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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mithode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 THE REPROACH Of ANNESLEY BT MAXWELL GRAY AUTHOR OF "THE SILENCE OF DEAN MAITLAND," ETC TORONTO: WILLIAM BRYCE, PUBLISHER. PR l^o 13 ^7 p^^^ Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Cana-la In the yoar one thoiwaiid eight hundred and eighty-nine by Wii^UAM DMYcii, at the Uu^)artuieut of Agriculture. 890155 CONTENTS. PARTL CHAP. PAoa. I.- -Footsteps 1 II —Fire-light 10 HI.— Shadows 20 IV.— The Meet 29 v.- Spring Flowers , 38 VI.— Thorns 47 PART II. I. — Apple Blossoms 56 II. — Archery 02 III. — Sunset on Arden Down 68 M ♦ ( — irS-x^rrrrta. ^' itvTvii c«ts\t ivtvn x.nctxi , ••■• ••••••••••••••••■• fXj v.— Storm ■ 84 CONTENTS. PART III. CHAP. p^Ol. I. — Light and Shatle 92 II.— Over the Hills and Far Away .• 104 III. — On the Balcuny 113 IV. — Unspoken Thouglits 122 v. — What the Pine Saiijjr 130 VI. — The Inheritaiicu 139 VII.— Bythe River I44 PART IV. I. —Sheep-shearing 151 II. — The Question I59 III. — At Sunset Igy IV. — Conflict 176 V. — A Verdict I84 VI.— Predictions 192 VII.— The Squire of Gledoswortli 201 PART V. I. — An English Triumph 210 II. — By the Hearth 219 III. -Sibyl 228 IV. — Spirits 237 V. — The Vacant Chair. 244 VI. — Benediction 249 PART VI. I. — On the Brink 266 II. — Buried Alive 264 III.— The Wedding Dress 274 IV. — Face to Face 283 V . — ix.es lOiation 290 VI. — Conclusion 30q By THE 8 AMI AUTHOR. THE SILENCE OF DEAN MAITLAND. author. PRI388 NOTIOB3S ' Kwnarkable and provokluff book -rKlili i ... ^ dreadful vicarious gutterlL must affect thS ^1^ i. *.„• J, ^^T' %«rd, wtjoge chanioter worthily drawS ; «^ Liifai. Lrir.^wi"-^t°*^^''*K*' "^*'"' '" ""oble and loviiiB Kvcranl i« «n~w «„= i. »£. 'L 'i*?™**'"*'' *"* **>« woman loved by t«mp^r^^ove;iS!"-Z?JLr female character, drawn b, any coiJ anai;Bi'B''Ae*i:S*LTof f^llfdlfh:,n'e*^vwhr^^^^^ f." ,"•* "«"'»'« """"'^y <" the ^imlj-gla ot tenor wMcHi^^^Z ^iT, u 1m" *«"j*f' »"«> '» "tt^rly mast^ originality. "-6«,./dw^ • . . ihe norel has the merit* ^ «. Jring power and deBcriptiouBof BceLiTMtath^delSC; ^J"',.'"''"/*'' *?'^ "^ "»»«'' «» '«> "'^ thisnoveHBuncomm^^l'^ce^^^^^^^ respect, indeed. martyrdom^^'po^r Kfe/Ja Cvril'Maitlan!."""','^''' varied and dramatic, and the Is real f«elin» in the relXn'ofthlrpfi^r J """"'. P°*erf""y (lencribed. There which he lias 1^1 unscathed • f„ Jof /k °l ^l"^"^ *'««»> t^e prison life, through average, "-i/^^ unscathed , in fact, the boolc is, from end to end, far above the exce^lonaUraS'^^rlSd i;&th"rlhS!?n??"i *"*".? f^'li' " '» » -»"^ «" an.i has in it the essence of he nobl^t kind of^^^^^^ It 88 a sensational novel merelv Mrt «im,?il » */• ' r • ^^ *•*•** ^^o read provides pleasure of rver^SZ Wnd"^ ^I*i d.^'or.^"^*"* *" **•« '«'"'• «* The Ktory is of intense lnteiestTh«pwr;*«- """^i??..?* '* <'°°* P"« »"* Ich. kind that fascinate It Si fSdlof tSuiw?„";*,^„f * '*^f^, POrt«yed. wd are of • of most moving pathos/'-So^^nT^ incident, powerful deMriptlon, ud loene^^ TORONTO : WILLIAM BRYOE. PUBLISHER. -•M Their Wt ii M. Dr. Morse's Indian Root i'ills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morses Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Mors'i's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills Cured of Indigestion and Htadache. St. Andrew %, Que.,— March 31, 18B7. W. II. CoMsiotK. Dkvk Sih,-Moh8k's Indian Root I'li.US have briirtitcd nie wonderfully. l-'i>r moiith-i I suffered from Indlgeition and headache, was rekties-. ul night and had a bad taste hi my inuutli every tnorniniri after taking out- box of the PilU, all thcKe trouble, disappeared, my fond digested well and my ftlcep wa. refrcthing. My health is now guud. Danikl IIokan. What Morie's PUli are thought of at Riverbaak, Ont. Rivcrbank, Jan. 31, 18S7. Mr. Comstock. Dear Sir,— I write to tell you in thin section of the country Dk. Mohsf.'si Indian Root Pills have a good name. I will give you the names of one or two persons who have used them and are loud in their praises. Mr. Robt. Smith who has been an invalid for many years has tried many medicines for regulating the bowels, but none suited him till he tried MoKSK's Indian Root Fills. Ho says that there was no unpleasant effects after t.iking them, the action t>eirf fh«^Koiu,^„j Ti__-r.. •. ^"""7 *""vc inc human ---_...., „v....^w....6 i..a^^ juse siicnuy ana swittly a green turf bnrH.r .f the chalk road. Beneath it appeared face, ne of a nii fully ou Hew keen wii blink, ii fair hail round tl stepping gazing s from be latter. and wall his foots then rcj self, " E Soon panting, the road and mui motionle but one and dart imitators who looi spectral! sheep-do, wind, an( uttered s the right on the pj of their the flock grumblini the bewil occasiona his maste behind h gent activ [ gave little with a sl( his long which bl< I creatures. it was with mtrees, and little circle ky. It ter- hitls, inter- sea, and on liar outline, m the leep leir contour It. On the these little imit a curv- ing the dim itly through } the bleak ign of life; , unearthly- t far above ceiving the hus making e plain and the silence e summons make the storm bent 1 branches ace; cows- )rt turf on I sheltered isive faces, iady built ; js beneath -time ; the le robe of >pses were ill seemed ;red in the md golden }uld those FOOTSTEPS. I face, next a pair of broad shoulders, and finally the whole figure of a man emerged, as if from the heart of the earth, and stood fully outlined agamst the chill sky. He was young, and strop ly rather than ;racefully built: the keen wmd, from which he did not flinch by so much as an eye- blmk imparted a healthy pink to his clear complexion. His fair hair was crisped by the wind, and his grey eyes looked all round the wide scene, on which his back had been turned while stepping lightly up the down, in a singular manner. Instead of gazing straightforward like other people's they looked downwards from beneath his eyelids, as if he had difficulty in raising the latter. Having rapidly surveyed earth, sea and sky, he turnef' and walked westwards along the ed-e of turf by the road, so that his footsteps still made no sound, drew a watch from his pocket sdf""Tarl''' "» ^"^^'*^ ^^ ^^'"^ overcoat, muttering to him- Soon he heard a sound as of a multitudinous scraping and panting above which tinkled a bell; a cloud of dust rose from the road, showing as it parted the yellow fleeces and black lees and muzzles of a flock of Southdown sheep. He stood aside motionless upon the turf, to let them pass without hindrance; but one of the timid creatures, nevertheless, took fright at him and darted down the slope, followed by an unreasoning crowd of irnita ors. It did not need a low faint cry from the shepherd, who loomed far behind above the cloud of white dust, himself spectral-looking in his long, greyish-white smock-frock, to send the sheep-dog sweeping over the turf, with his fringes floating in the wind, and his tongue hanging from his formidable jaws, while he uttered short angry barks of reproof, and drove the truants into the right path again. But again and yet again some indiscretion on the part of the timid little black-faces demanded the energies of their lively and fussy guardian, who darted from one end of the flock to the other with joyous rapidity, hustling this sheep. grumbling at that, barking here, remonstrating there, and driving the bewildered creatures hither and thither with a zeal that was occasionally in excess, and drew forth a brief monosyllable from his master, which caused the dog to fly back and walk sedately behind him with an instant obedience as delightful as his intelli- gent activity. The actual commander of this host of living things gave httle sign of energy, but walked heavily behind hU charges with a slow and slouching gait, partially supporting himself on his long crooked stick. anH rarrwinrr ..„H'»- «-•" »-'' > u _,L,;-i, ui ^ J • , "' '■•j—a '<"Uvi tii3 icii aim a iamb whicii bleated m the purposeless way characteristic of these creatures. Yet the shepherd's gaze was everywhere, and he, 1—3 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. like his zealous lieutenant, the dog, could distinguish each of these numerous and apparently featureless creatures from the other, and every now and then a slight motion of his crook, or some inarticulate sound, conveyed a whole code of instructions to the eager watchful dog, who straightway acted upon them. AH this the young man motionless on the turf watched with interest, as if a flock of sheep were something uncommon or worthy of contemplation ; and when they had all gone by, and the shepherd himself passed in review, his yellow sun-bleached beard shaken by the keen wind he was facing, he transferred his attention to him. " Blusterous," said the shepherd, making his crook approach his battered felt hat, when he came up with him. "Very blusterous," answered the gentleman, nodding in a friendly manner and going on his way. This was their whole conversation, and yet the shepherd pon- dered upon it for miles, and recounted it to his wife as one of the day's chief incidents. "And I zes to 'n, 'Blusterous* — I zes; and he zes to me, 'Terble blusterous,' he zes. Ay, that's what 'ee zed, zure enough," he repeated, with infinitesimal variations, while smoking his ai'ter-supper pipe in his chimney-corner. Thus, you see, human intercourse may be carried on in these parts of the earth with a moderate expenditure of words. Gervase Rickman went his way pondering upon the shepherd and his flock. How foolishly helpless and helplessly foolish the bleating innocent-faced sheep looked, as they blundered aimlessly out of the road, one bhndly following the next in front with such lack of purpose, that the wonder was that here and there a solitary sheep should have sufficient intellect to strike on a fresh path and mislead his fellows. And how abject they were to the superior intellect and volition of the dog; how lumultuously they fled before him, thus involving themselves in fresh disorder j how tamely they yielded to his behests, when so small an exercise of will on the part of each might have baffled him, in spite of his terrible fangs; above all, how like, how very like the mass of mankind, " the common herd," as they were so aptly called, they seemed to his musing fancy ! With what a sheep-like fidelity do men follow the few who from time to time blunder upon original paths, how blindly do they pursue them to unknown goals, and how abjectly do multitudes permit themselves to be swayed by the will of one with sufficient daring, energy, and intellect to dominate them ! The mass needs a man, a strong personality, a powerful volition FOOTSTEPS. $ guish each of ures from the f his crook, or of instructions d upon them. watched with uncommon or gone by, and f sun-bleached transferred his rook approach nodding in a shepherd pon- wife as one of he zes to me, 'ee zed, zure while smoking ed on in these ivords. 1 the shepherd sly foolish the lered aimlessly rent with such i and there a rike on a fresh ey were to the lultuously they disorder ; how an exercise of in spite of his e the mass of tly called, they ' the few who ow blindly do V abjectly do he will of one >minate them! werful volition to lead it; it bows to the strongest, to a Moses, a Caesar, a Gregory, a Charlemain, a Cromwell or a Napoleon ; democracy is but the shadow of a shade — the aimless revolt of the aimless many against shackles that have been silently forged in the pro- cess of the ages — a revolt ending in the incoherence of anarchy, weltering helplessly on till one is born strong enough to lead and create anew ; then the centuries solder and cement his work, and give it a fleeting permanence, and thus a civilization is born. Or the centuries refuse their sanction, and the work slowly resolves itself again to chaos. So Gervase Rickman mused. But he was not of the herd ; he would follow none. He felt within himself an intensit' -^f purpose, and a passion of con- centration, together with ^ crength of intellect that must lift him above his fellows. So he thought and mused, not knowing what was within him and into what channels the current of his character would set. He went on his way, still keeping to the turf, and thus still silently, for it was his habit to move with as little sound as pos- sible, until a barrow rose steeply before him and compelled him to take the road. He was now approaching the end of the down road, at the extremity of which, where the thorn hedge ended, there stood a little lonely inn in an empty courtyard, fenced by a low stone wall. On one side of the small house was a tree, bending as usual to the north-east, and imparting that air of perfect loneliness which the presence of a single tree invariably gives to an isolated building. The inn proclaimed itself the " Traveller's Rest " by a sign over its low porch and closed door. There were no flowers in the little court, though it faced the south ; neither tree nor vegetable grew in the barren enclosure, which was tenanted solely by a large deer-hound stretched in a watchful attitude before the porch. Mr. Rickman did not look at the inn, though a side glance of his eyes took in the dog with a sparkle of satisfaction ; while the dog on hearing his footsteps, which were also faintly audible to two women in an upper room, slightly pricked his ears and looked at him with an indifferent air, dropping his muzzle com- fortably on to his fore-paws again when he had passed. Another road crossed the level chalk road at right angles just beyond the solitary inn. Opposite the inn-front on the turf was a stagnant pond, the milky water of which was crisped to ripples by the keen wind, and in the angle' formed by two roads stood a wooden sign-post. When he reached the sign-post, Gervase Rickman leant against it with his back towards the inn, which was now some distance I 6 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. S.°.'^*''?V^*^^^''^*i °''^'' *^^ ^""^^d ^''Panse of level champain to f„ 1 1 ^K ^^ "^'1-"?^ ^PP'^"" *° "^^"^ t'^e ^'"d, Which caught him ^l'''w^,^'^\''}^^^^^''^^ '■"ffled his hair, a^d obliged him t^ press his low felt hat more firmly over his brows; the sou^d I made among the withered stalks above the sward pleased him and he mused and mused in the stillness, an image of peacefu centaXowV"' ''^ "'"^' '^^^"^^^ ^"^ '^^ °^ ^^ '"- nfK^ he was thus musing, his quick ears caught the sound of footsteps m the distance behind him; but he did not turn ?nter.^fv^°' ^^\^°°e^^P« ^^^^ those of a Stranger and coud no" interest him, so he thought. They were the firm elastic steps o a man in the flower of life, they smote the hard road with an even joyous rhythm, and were accompanied by the clear cheery tones of a voice smgmg, ^"ccijr lones "As we lay, all the day, In the Bay of Biscay, O f * in Sfi^ s°"g^a"d footsteps penetrated to the quiet upper chamber m the inn, where two women sat together, on2 wasted with mortal sickness and wearing the unnatural rose of fever in her facT the other radiant with youth and health. The latter paused in her reading and looked up as the strain of manly song broke upon L'^rr i^Ve^att^r,^ "^^ ^-^^"^'^ ^-^ ^^'•^^-^^' -<^ '^^ gentI^man/'^°°'^ ''°''^'" "^'^ *^^ '■^^^^'' "^"^ ^^^ ^°i^« ^^ a w Jn I ''"^^' r"* joyously on his way, and paused in his sons C^^ ' ^^\'^' motionless figure at the foo? of the sign-Jost tte dark^ni."''A '''" Sf^^^ dreamily away over the vflley to aLT^ ^ ™^'' ^^' ^"^ to P"'"Pose a thing strongly to gam his purpose, he was thinking; fate is but the Ihadow of an siw tKn.'^J'T '^ "^!?'' "^^ ^^ ^" ^'' °^" '^^"ds. In fancy he wX k!.2 u^'^u'^^^P ?"''^" o'^ ^^^ 0" along the dusty high- way by the shepherd, whose figure suggested all sorts of Ufes to his mmd save the august image of the Shepherd of mankfnd " To Medmgton four-and-a-half miles," was written on one of the arms of the sign-post above his head, and the pedestrian reading this, paused a moment and looked at the sikn? figure beneath which with averted 'gaze appeared unconscloii of h I « M ^'''V^^ °"^y """^^ *° Medington ? » he asked. No ; there are four," repUed Rickman, facing about, but not 'el champain to t shadows were lich caught him obliged him to i ; the sound it d pleased him, ige of peaceful : of quiet con- ight the sound did not turn r and could not elastic steps of d with an even r cheery tones jpper chamber 2d with mortal 1 her face, the paused in her g broke upon :ened, and she le voice of a d in his song the sign-post, the valley to I strongly to shadow of an In fancy he ; dusty high- rts of images of mankind, in on one of »e pedestrian silent figure icious of his •out, but not FOOTSTEPS. m SSon*' ^^''"^ ^' °^ *^' ''""^''■' ^' ^^ ^^P"«..<.-.. one to discover that hidden grace. For each face has its own charm, the magic of which has different power over different \, echoing in a the wind is FOOTSTEPS, g people, and enchants many or few, according to its own intrinsic potency. The two yalked on together at Alice's brisker pace, talking with the uncfcnstraint of familiar friends ; Alice involved in the glory of the warm sun-rays, while a deeper rose bloomed in her face as the fresh a-r touched it, and her blood warmed with the exercise; Gervase for the most part listening, and monosyllabic. They passed a large deserted chalk quar.y, its steep cliff-sides looking ghost-hke save where a stray sunbeam shot its long gold lustre upori them, and then they came round the shoulder of the down and saw, nestling beneath it, a church with a low square, grey tower and a gabled stone house sheltered from the south-west by a row of weather-beaten Scotch firs; lower down along the valley ran a straggling village, all thatch and greenery. cT?r i I ^^* J^^ ''^^^^' ^""^ "^'PP^^ '"*° ^ deep sandy lane with steep banks and overhangmg hedges, and here in sheltered nooks finy'StoTe light"' '''''' '"*'' ^"' ^'°^^'^ ^^'^ ^^^'^^ "But not a violet is out yet," said Alice. This was the moment of Gervase's triumph. He took from a deep pocket a something carefully folded in a leaf, and uncovering it presented to his companion, with a quiet smile, a iideSTeal"'"' "°^''^' ^'^'-^^^P^^' ^"^ ''' - ^ ^"-^"g her^fresJtr^ ^n'*\*? T^^i"f.^»0" ^^ Pleasure, and lifted it to her fresh tace to inhale its delicate fragrance. "To think that you should find the first ! » she said, half jealously. He was in the seventh heaven, but said nothing He had wX^i^f^'^'n'^ 't ^"^'^"S °f *hose violets for f week, and now hi t7v '^""''^.y ^° ^^'^'' '^'"^ ^°^ her that afternoon and now he had his reward w seeing her caress the flowers and talk of them for a good five minutes till the sound of hoofs alone the lane behind them made her look up. ^ CHAPTER IL ii III FIRE-LIGHT. The rapid beat of hoofs and the roll of wheels drew nearer and nearer, and a dog-cart drawn by a serviceable cob flashed down the hill towards the pedestrians with many a scattered pebble and spark of fire, for the dusk was now falling. On reaching them, the driver pulled up the cob, gave the reins to the groom, sprang to the ground, all in a flash of time, and was shaking hands with Gervase and Alice, and walking by their side almost before they had time to recognize him. Alice gave him a frank smile of welcome, and Gervase smiled too, but he murmured something inaudibly to himself that was not flattering to the new comer. The latter was a young man, with a dark, strong, intelligent tace, which had just missed being handsome. He walked well, dressed well, and had about him a certam air which would have challenged attention anywhere. He did not look Tfke a parish doctor. " And how are they all at Arden ? " he asked, in a full cordial voice. "Where did you get those violets? It is enough to make a man mad. I thought these were the first." And he drew a second little bunch of white violets from his breast-pocket and gave them to Alice, who received them with another frank smile. " How kind of you to think of me ! " she said. " Gervase found these, but he was only five minutes ahead of you." Gervase smiled inwardly; the new-comer's face darkened and he silently returned the rude observation the former had made upon him a moment before ; and then comforted himself by the reflection, " Gervase is nobody." " So you have been visiting my patients again. Mips Lingard," he said aloud ; " you must not go about making people well in this reckless way. How are we poor doctors to live ? " " Did you find Ellen any better ? ■" she asked, " She was wonderfully perked up, as the cottagers say ; I knew you had been there, without any telling. We must try to get her FIRE-LIGHT. If through the spring winds. I say, Rickman, you haven't seen such a thing as a stray cousin anywhere about, have you ? " "I did catch sight of such a creature half-an-hour since," he rephed. " He asked me the way to Medington by Arden Manor, where one Paul, it appeared, had agreed to meet him." " A tall, good-looking fellow with a pleasant face " " And a beautiful voice," interrupted Alice. " It must be the gentleman I heard singing past the ' Traveller's Rest,' Gervase. I was just going to ask if you had seen him." " He sings like a nightingale. Yes ; that was no doubt Ted. Oh ! you will all like him. I shall bring him over to the Manor, if I can. I don't say if I may," he added with a smile. " Because you know we are always pleased to see your friends," returned Gervase. " But your cousin is an old friend of ours, Annesley, and evidently remembered us. He asked if a queer old fellow named Rickman lived in Arden Manor down there." " The rascal ! Did you tell him he was speaking to the queer old fellow's son ? " on " Not I. I wanted to hear what he would say about us." "What a shame ? " said Alice ; " those are the bad underhand ways Sibyl and I are always trying to overcome in you. Well, Dr. Annesley, here is Arden Cross, but no cousin, apparently " ' "He would be well over St. Michael's Down by this time" added Gervase. " But who is this, coming down the lane ? " ' Two figures emerged from the deeply-shadowed lane which led from the down to the paler dusk of the cross-roads, and discovered themselves to be an elderly labouring man and a youth, who touched their hats and then stopped. " Evening, miss; evening, sir. Ben up hoam, Dacter? Poor E-ln was terble bad 's marning," said the elder, who was no other than the host of the "Traveller's Rest," Jacob Gale. '•Ellen was better," replied the doctor cheerfully. "Oh ! yes ; she was really quite bright when I saw her," added Alice, m a still more encouraging voice. The man shook his head. " She won't never be better " he growled, " though she med perk up a bit along of seeing you, miss. I ve a zin too many goo that way to be took in, bless your heart. How long do ye give her, Dacter? I baint in no hurry vur she to goo, as I knows on," he added, with a view to contradict erroneous impressions. The doctor rpnl if H that !<■ """' Jtyts"'— ji»'- */- -«=- = =k • i.i ,, --X- — ^ *- ""^ xmpuooiuic tO say; she miKnt anger for months, or she might go that night. *. 1^^®^ all goos the zame way," continued the man, "one after tether, nothun caint stop em. There was no pearter mayde 12 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. about than our Eln a year ago come Middlemass, a vine-growed mayde she was as ever I zeen," he repeated in a rough voice, through which the very breath of tragedy sighed ; " zing she 'ood like a thrush, and her chakes like a hrose. A peart mayde was our Eln, I war'nt she was." " She is very happy ; she is willing to go," said Alice, trying to comfort him. " Ah ! they all goos off asy. My missus she went fust ; a vine vigure of a ooman, too. Vive on 'em lies down Church-lytten there, Miss Lingard, and all in brick graves, buried comfortable. They've a got to goo and they goos. Hreuben here, he'll hae to go next. There's the hred in 's chakes, and he coughs terble aready." Reuben smiled pensively ; he was a handsome lad, with dark eyes .;nd a delicate yet brilliant pink-and-white complexion. " Nonsense," interposed Paul, " Reuben's well enough. Yoti shouldn't frighten the boy. Give him good food, and his cough will soon go. Don't you believe him, Reuben. You are only growing fast." " He'll hae to goo long with t'others," continued the father, "dacters ain't no good agen a decline. A power of dacter's stuff ben inside of they that's gone. They've all got to goo, all got to goo." " Reckon I'll hae to goo," added Reuben, in a more cheerful refrain to his father's melancholy chant. Alice tried in vain to reason the pair into a more hopeful frame of mind, and then scolded them, and finally bid them good-night, and they parted, the heavy boots of the two Gales striking the road in slow funereal beats as they trudged wearily up-hill, the lighter steps of the gentlefolk making swift and merry music downwards. " Oh, Paul ! " said Alice, turning to him after a backward glance at the father and son, "we muse save Reuben j we cannot let him die ! " " My dear Alice, you must not take all the illnesses in the parish to heart," interposed Gervase; "the boy will be all right, as Annesley told him. Why try to deprive Gale of his chief earthly solace ? The old fellow revels in his own miseries. It is a kind ■;f distinction to that class of people to have a fatal disease in :lieir family." "Hereditary too," added Paul'j "as respectable as a family ^,host in higher circles." " Or the curse of Gledesworth. I am glad the curse does not blight the tenants as well as the landlord," continued Gervase. For Arden Manor belonged to the Gledesworth estate. *» FIRE-LIGHT. (3 « Or the Mowbray temper," lau-hed Paul. " Nay, dear Miss Lingard, do not look so reproachiul. I am doing my best for Keuben. But he is consumptive, and I doubt if he will stand another wmter, though his lungs are still whole. We must try to accept facts. Why, we poor doctors would be fretted to fiddle- stnngs m a month if we did not harden our hearts to the inevitable " • /'?"'i^ ,^^/f inevitable?" asked Alice, with an earnest gaze into his dark-blue eyes that set his heart throbbing. " Need this bnghr young life be thrown away ? I know how good your heart IS, and how you often feel most when you speak most roughly, liut If Reuben were Gervase, you know that he would not have to die. " You mean that I should order Gervase to the South. Doubt- less. " Very well. And if we set our wits to work we may expatriate Ktuben. W- must. Gervase, you are great at schemes. Scheme Keuben into a warm climate before next winter." "We have received our orders, Annesley,"' replied Gervase. laughing, as they turned up a broad lane, at the end of which the grey manor house, with its gables and mullioned windows, loomed massive in the dusk-a dusk deepened on one side by the row of wind-bowed firs. ' Paul accompanied them, as a matter of course, though he had turned quite out of his homeward way ; while his servant, without asking or receiving orders, drove the dog-cart round to the stable- fn^;/^''^^' '^'-"^^ :°"'^ ^^'^ f°""^ his way alone, so accus- tomed was he to its welcome hospitality. ainl«°"^!! t'^^g^teway, with its stone piers topped by stone globes, and up the drive bounded by velvet turf of at least a cen! tury's groWlh, the three walked in the deepening dusk, and saw a ruddy glow in the uncurtained windows of the hall, round the porch l7^1 'nyr^le grew mingled with ivy and roses. Gervase opened i.L^oK^'J.K^^^"'^'^'^ ^ 'P^^'°"^ '^^'l wainscotted in oak, carved about the doorways and the broad chimney-piece, beneath which, on the open hearth, burnt a fire of wood. Th^ leS Sfn. f r'"''""'y?u*?^ P^^'''^^^ ^^"^' on a broad staircasf shining and slippery with beeswax and the labour of generations! se"ttLlTnd^.hP •''"'?' 'T' ''''^^'^' °f ^™°"^ ^"d «ome oaken fhP S^K *^^^'" .°[^" old quaint fashion ; and upon a table near the^ hearth, on which a tea-service was set out. nf th! fi • ^"l' u'*^"^'' ^° ^ ^^* ^'"ing bolt uprighi in front orade .ST "I^^"^ '^ stared, as if inquiring of sime poten oracle, and sometime rning its head nth a blissful wink, in 14 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. yw response to its mistress's voice. This lady was small and slight, with a rosy, unwrinkled face, grey hair, and an expression so inno- cent and sweet as to be almost childlike, yet she resembled Gervase sufficiently to prove herself his mother. Mrs. Rickman's gram- mar was hazy and her spelling uncertain ; she was not srre if metaphysics were a science or an instrument; she habitually curtsied to the new moon, and did nothing important on a Friday (which sometimes caused serious domestic inconvenience) ; but her manners were such as immediately put all who addressed her at their ease, and her pleasant uncritical smile encouraged, even invited, people to tell her their troubles and confess their mis- doings. "Come, children," she said cheerily, rising when the door opened to busy herself at the table, " here is tea just made. What, Paul ? I did not see you in the dusk. We have not seen you for an age, three days at least. Gervase, throw me on a fresh log, my dear." •' We certainly deserve no tea at this time of night," said Alice, who was busy laying aside her hat and furs. " Come, Hubert, leave the doctor alone and lie down by Puss." The deer-hound, who had been fawning on Paul, stretched himself on the rug on one side of the fire, not daring to take the middle, since Puss disdained to move so much as a paw to make way for the new-comer. Alice took the chair Gervase placed for her, and began showing Mrs. Rickman her two bunches of violets, one of which she put in water, and the other (Paul observed with a thrill that it was his) in her dress. " And where are Mr. Rickman and Sibyl ?" he asked, flushing with a secret joy, while Gervase was deeply ponde?ing the dis- position of the violets, and persuading himself that his bunch was the more cherished, since it was secured from fading, and yet not quite sure on the point. " Sibyl is at the parsonage practising with the choir," said Mrs. Rickman. "Mr. Rickman is on the downs examining some barrows which have just been opened, and no one knows when he will be back. Alice, my dear child, what a fearful state your hair is in ! " Alice put up her hands with a futile attempt to smooth her curly wind-blown hair. « It doesn't matter in the firelight," she replied. " Miss Lingard is quite right about the firelight," said Paul, in his stately manner. " An elegant negligence suits best with this idle moment in the dusk. Yes, if you forgive my saying so, Alice, FIRE-LIGHT. ■s you make a delightful picture on that quaint settle, with the hound at your knee, and the armour above your head, and the hearth blazing beneath that splendid old chimney near." He did not add what he thought, that the grace with which she sat half-reclined in the cross-legged oaken scat, and the sweet ex- pression of her face lighted by the flickering flames, made the chief charm of the picture. " Dr. Annesley," replied Alice, meeting his gaze of earnest and respectful admiration, " you are becoming a courtier. I do not recognize my honest old friend, Paul, with his blunt but wholesome rebuff's." " It is I who am rebuff"ed now," he replied, singularly discom- posed by the gravity of her manner. " Nonsense, Paul," interrupted Mrs. Rickman. " Alice can only be pleased by such a pretty compliment. You ought to be of Gervase's profession." "Yes; I always maintained that Annesley would make a first-rate lawyer," added Gervase. " Heaven forbid ! " exclaimed Annesley, with a fervour that was almost religious. Gervase laughed, and rose to settle a half-burnt log which threatened to fall when burnt asunder, thus ruining a fire land- scape on which Alice had been dreamily gazing. " How cruel you are— you have shattered the most romantic vision of crags and castles I" she said. " And you have destroyed the poetry of the hour, for I must light these candles." " Were you seeing your future in the fire ? " Paul asked, light- ing the candles she brought forward, thrilling with delicate emotion when he touched her hand accidentally, and caught the play of the candle-light on her features. Gervase watched them narrowly, though furtively, with a secret pity for Paul, for a vision less keen than his might detect a total absence of response on her part to the young doctor's unspoken feeling ; and then he thought of his own future, which he read in the dull red glow of the fire, while the others kept up a desultory conversation in which their thoughts did not enter. He had drifted, he scarcely knew how, into the office of Whe- well and Son, solicitors. His mind in those early days had taken no bent sufficiently strong to make him resist his father's desire that he should follow law, since he declined the paternal profession of ohvsic. a nrofpssinn whif'h Mr P;^Vrr>o« „ i r.^A 1 — :_: with a fair practice, had early left because he said he could not endure the whims of sick people, but really because, having a com- petency, he wished to pursue his favourite studies in the quiet of i6 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. I'v; Arden, where oibyl was born when Gervase was about nine years old. But once in the office, he found much to interest him, and after making progress from a desire to do his duty and please hia parents, whose hopes all rc-ted on their only son, ambition av.o'(.e in him, and he decided to in vice himself the head of the firm, :;nd the firm the head of the protession in the county. Th.' j, at eight- and-twenty, he had accomplished. Whewell and Son w .' now Whewell and Rickman. The younger Whewell had renounced a profession that wearied him, and the elder was at an age when love of ease is stronger than love of power, and it was well known that the junior partner was the soul of the business, which daily in- creased. As far as a country solicitor could rise, Gervase Rickman intended to rise, and then he intended to enter Parliament, where he felt his powers would have an opportunity of develop- ing. This purpose he had as yet confided to no one, though he was daily feeling his way and laying the foundations of local popularity. A. man who makes himself once heard in the House of Commons has, he knew, providing he possesses the genius of a ruler of men, a destiny more brilliant than that of any sovereign in the civilized world, and Gervase, looking at the burning brands and listening to the harmonious blending of Paul's deep voice with Alice's pure treble, saw such magnificent prospects as the others did not dream him capable of entertaining. And through all those princely visions Alice moved with an imperial grace. •* But what has become of your cousin all this time ? " Alice was asking the doctor. " Over the downs and in Medington by this time. We don't dine till half-past seven, so my mother will have a good hour to purr over the fellow and make mu;lt o< biru. Ned iiwayswas a lucky fellow, if you remember, \m. Ui'-'!man. P> lad the knack of making friends." " He was a winning and well-behaved boy, I remember," she replied. " How fond Sibyl was of him I " " It is just the same now, or rather it was at school. What- ever Ned did, people liked him. If he neglected his lessons, he always got off in class by means of lucky shots. Other fellows' shots failed. Born under a happy star." " Yet he must inherit the curse of Gledesworth," Alice said. " (}: ! that is at an end. Reginald Annesley, being in a lunatic asylum, fulfils the conditions of the distich, " Whanne ye lorde ys mewed in stonen celle, Gledesworth thanne ahalle brake hys spelle." FIR -UGHT.' \t It nine years •'since the to his son. Reginald is "Facts seem against the theory," Gervase said, estate cannot now pass from Reginald Anneuley By the way, have you not heard, Paul? Young dead, killed while elephant-hunting' in South Africa." "Captain Annesley ? Reginald? Dead?" cried Paul, with excitement. " We heard he was in Africa, and his wife and baby came home. Are you sure ? Is it not some repetition of poor Julian's story ? " " It is perfectly true," replied Gervase, who was agent to the Glcdesworth estate; "the news arrived yesterday." Paul Annesley's father was first cousin to the Annesley who owned the estate, and who was only slightly acquaint J with him. Paul did not even know any of those Annesley.s, and the mad Annesley having had three sons, one of whom was married, and all of whom had grown to manhood, the prospect of inli riting the family estates had never entered his wildest dreams. But now only two lives stood between him and that rich inheritance; the life of an elderly maniac and that of an infant. No one knew better than he how large a percentage of male infants dit " It is terribly sad," he said. " Oh ! it does seem as curse was a reality, and worked still." " I never believed in the curse," said Mrs. Rickman ; ' disbelieve it still. People die when the Almighty sees fit, \\ for us to ask why." But Alice was a firm believer in the curse of Gledeswort and defended its morality stoutly. Why, if blessings are attach d to birth, should not pains and penalties cling to it as well ? she a ked. Was it worse to be a doomed Annesley than the offspring )f a criminal or the inheritor of fatal disease, like the family at the " Traveller's Rest ? " " I think I would rather be an Annesley," she added, turn ng to Paul with a smile that seemed to reach the darkest recesses of his heart, and kindle a glow of vital warmth within him. Then they fell to discussing the Gledesworth legend. In the days of King John a lord of Gledesworth died, leaving one young son, and the dead lord's brother, not content with seizing the lands, drove the idow and orphan from his door. One day in the har i winter weather, the widow appeared in want at the usurper's gatt ; and begged bread for the starving child. And because she wa- importunate, the wicked baron set his hounds upon them and they killed the heir. Then xht- wiHnw r-nrcA/i *»,o ^«,«>» h ned into the forest and was seen no more. But from that hour Gledesworth lane's never descended to the eldest son; so surely as a man owned Gledesworth, sorrow of some kind befeU him • if the and I is not It 1' s ill II THE S^PSOACH OF ANNESLBY. suffered from, he c„TsaU%paT„t '""'^"' """' ""^ ge. .hr.s,o„en SMt?"' '"'"'^" ^"'" ^'^ "^"'^'^ y" '».. chlngeTforl'sto^Tu'trfanr"/' '^'f^^<'»^ '*" to ex- "Vmi "" ™™<^«''.areaU his descendants to be doomed?" e«errSrernS=47h'feS.so?''''r«°°'' »"'"''■ world," Alice said ' rudimentary and finite .heV?m^r4'''''ifke«3't'he fr"'?^ *Sl««" "f'"'™ f' though only a Gid of rSuri™ "^ "' k °^ •"^'"^ «"»'' "•'"d^ Mrs. lUckiianrkind heart ,rn,?huw ""if ="«!<>» "Wch cheered Annesleys sceptic "in andSI? J^f ^' J "^ ^' "^ ""»""« «' all lost ihemXes S Ae oW i«, ■" t'f ^^'^ " "Wch they ofEvii, the um;?o?^St?inVrtt?sr^s"4nLns and was durscoWed for v^r„„o ^ "'j"" ^" «"= afternoon, lived in thatVuseC h^" SeeS t^fT^' ^^^ ^ placedtherebyhersuardian, rt,n I yfj being an orphan from each other" Sv and ,x t\"'^ f^''^ ™8ht benefit together 50 haroiyXtAlSh„„?Ht'' r*^'^". ^-d g™wn up of her own liufi'fi.r,'^;- LTctt^^^^^^^ later'Sfe :a3Tbo" t .^1^.°'^rr^^t^'^\^'^7^'^^^ are not tired, I should likeTou to let ^, rS """'"''• " y"" the Liberal i^eeting next week » """"■'^ ""^ '^^'^ "« tota"fS Sib^K:r'<'' "'" ^^'^ 'f " would no. be better .wo";e!re"att'/;„\tt t'Js u'ifi;' "sfat'''^^^''"" "-•«> •" hall furthest frira the sL "case ' hth r 1" '" ""' '°™" "' *« -ched the landing, SSX^^'^^tSr.,^^^'^.^..^^ lamp m tts centra and by the fitful r^lotf ^^^^^SS* FIRE-LIGHT. 19 iften observed, fatal line, was ig the wicked t victims who h likes to ex- i>e doomed ? " 3d and for ill tary and finite seen ; but not a gesture or look of Gervase could escape her, and she was surprised when, taking a roll of notes from his pocket, his form dilated, his eyes kindled as they took a com- manding glance of the wide space before him, and he sent his voice, which in conversation was harsh, echoing through the hall with a power which she had never suspected, and invested the political common-places which he uttered with a certain dignity. The cat sprang up in alarm ; Hubert rose and sat listening at his mistress's feet with a critical air ; Alice cried " Hear, hear ! " and « No, no I " at intervals, for a good half-hour. Then the door opened, and Sibyl returned from her choir practice and made an addition to the audience. "And did you ever hear such rubbish in your life, Sibyl?", Alice asked, laughing. "No," she replied, "I was never at a political meeting before." 'SI m .A CHAPTER IIL {^ in ' M' SHADOWS. Edward Annesley, finding no trace of his cousin at Arden Cross, took the path indicated to him over the next link in the chain of downs, dismissing Gervase Rickman from h'? mind with a dim momentary remembrance of having seen and a.jliked him before. Thus every day we pass men and women whose hearts leap and ache like our own, taking no more count of them than of the stones along our path, though any one of these may turn the current of our destiny and alter our very nature. The setting sun was now breaking through the splendour of the shifting clouds and lighting up, like a suddenly roused memory, the once-famihar but half-forgotten landscape, with its limits of hill and sea, its lake-like sheet of slate roofs down in the hollow where the confluence of two slow streams formed the River Mede. a The lake of blue roofs, brooded over by a dim cloud of misty I smoke, out of which rose the tall white church tower, its western ^ face touched by the sun's fleeting glow, was Medington, the town in which he had passed many a school-boy's holiday. AH was now familiar : the furze in which he and Paul once killed snakes and looked for rabbit-holes j the copses where they gathered nuts and blackberries ; and the hamlet with the a stone bridge over its mirror-like stream, widening into a pond at I the foot of the hill, which fell there in an abrupt steep, down I which the cousins had made many a rapid descent, tobogganing ] in primitive fashion. There stood the mill with its undershot I wheel ; the plaintive cry of the moor-hen issued from the dry I sedge rustling m the March wind ; all sorts of long-forgotten ob>ects appeared and claimed old acquaintance with him. The m chimes of the church clock came floating through the dim grey 1 air like a friendly voice from far-off boyhood, and after a little ^ musical melancholy prelude, struck six deep notes. He took the old field-nath. fhinkinrr nf tKi««^ ~~a _;,-_i- r__ ... 1 \, 1 1. ---J '''"••o •'• tx.siigo ana people lui- gotten for years, and reflected that the two boys who played in those fields and who afterwards passed a year or two at a French school SHADOWS. 31 together, were now men, partly estranged by the exigencies of life, tntil he found himself in the clean, wind-swept streets of the town, |vhere the lamps were every moment showing tiny points of [rellow fire in the dusk, and the shop-windows were casting pale and scant radiance upon the almost deserted pavement ; for even In the High Street there were few passengers at this hour, and little was heard save the cries of children at play, and the occa- sional rumble of a cart and still more occasional roll of a carriage. No one knows what becomes of the inhabitants of small country towns when they are not going to church or to market ; the houses stand along the streets, but rarely give any sign of life ; khe shops offer their merchandise apparently in vain. I He stopped before a large red-brick house, draped with grace- ful hangings of Virginia creeper, now a mass of bare brown branches rattling drily in the wind; a house which withdrew itself, as if in aristocratic exclusiveness, some yards back from the line of houses rising flush with the street, and was fenced from Intruders by a high iron railing, behind which a few evergreens rew, half stifled by the thick coating of dust upon their shining leaves. There were three doors, one on each side, and one approached by a flight of steps in the middle j on one of the Bide doors the word " Surgery," was painted, and upon the tailings was a brass plate, with ** Paul Annesley, Surgeon, &c," pgraved upon it. He was admitted by the central door into a large hall sccupying the whole depth of the house, and having a glass garden-door on, its opposite side. He had scarcely set foot vithin it when a door on his right opened, and from its bomparative darkness there issued into the radiance of th^ lamp- lit hall a tall and stately woman, with snow-white hair, and large ^right, blue eyes. Save her snowy hair, she showed no sign of ■%t ; her step was elastic, her figure erect as a dart. " How do you do. Aunt Eleanor ? " said Edward, going up to ber and kissing the still blooming cheeks offered for his salute. " I missed Paul, as you see. How well you are looking ! " Mrs. Annesley held his hands and looked into his face with a leraphic smile, while she replied to his salutations, and said, Vith formal cordiality — "Welcome, dear nephew, welcome to our dwelling. Paul Ihould have been here to receive you, but his medical duties Vive doubtless detained him. You know what martyrs to 3iity medical men are. You rnay rciucmbcr your dear uncle's Ife with its constant interruptions." " Yes, I remember," returned Edward, not dreaming that his 22 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. '^^"^^^^^'^^tli^^^f '"^"-"^ --i^ted in drinking tea slowXU ,uSvte"fs fnlrttr -^"^ ^^"^'"^ ^^^ « darkened by heavy cfiftains fn Thf ^^^^ ^'■^^'"g-room, which was by the mfuf gleam'of thTfiVe " iXT'' '"I?."^"' ""'^ "^^ted sad and solitary but for fhi i, • ^^^.^' "^^ '^^^ ^0"'^ be very my dearest S is oft ^^uchr' to' hif fl,r "^^ *" ^^''^'^ ^^^^ dear Edward, is mv tn-^,7«c. , • ^ ^e"ow-creatures. That with the a r o? HaSdv fm'°"'°''''°-"-" ^"- ^nnesley sank throne-like arm cha L Jy^heTT and ^TT^ .^^'"^ "P°» h"' sweetly as she arranged the whl;. ."^^^.^ softly and smiled cap, which bore buJ^a traditila l\ " m""^' °^ ^^' ^^J^^^te cap she had long since'dSS as SoS *' ''' ^'°^'^ ^^^^^T^^l^l^ ^^^^^^^ took his seat on women conscious ofT ^'.^r^to ^h^rr^^. '"^ '"'^^' ^^^ ^^^ there was old rich hcei7hJ ™, ^^^^""^ °" s"ch trifles • costly jewels, old friends of f/'^>"^ *^°"^ ^^^"^^k; a l?w -s on her hand, thTSl°ond^sr;h^h"e^^^^^^^^ 'Z fi'^ ""^ broke It mto a thousand tiny fierce flam^.T ^u ^'^^'^ht and well formed lips showed a C of nerfer T. ? ^^^e^™"^^. her imposing, as well as a handsome IJrT ^ ''^'' ^^" '^^^ ^" weS^nTntr^Shl^dl^^^^^^^^^ T^ ^^' '^^"^ ^^e and sisters, and telling him^var ou hS; . "^ '^J7 ^^^ "^^^^^^^ while the firelight played unonTh J 1 '^J"' of famUy news: Vou don't look a dryolderftanv™'' ""^ "''"''">"« "«"• nothing bu.,d„ire yo'u ?oftl,et" CZL?' ' ""' ""^ nrarhco «« ..„.,_ _, , ' " '" miuw now to flatter. TTJa «,, .- j^oar uiu aunt I And nnv >,r>,., ^ """ J'""' '" kave you bereaved of their hearts in' Si mann^rT- '""*"« "*" SHADOWS. 83 (( I am not a lady-killer. I am "None," he replied, laughing, put down as a slow fellow." "Nay, my dear kinsman; I cannot believe that the ladies of these days have such bad taste. You have grown into such a tall fellow, you remmd me of my sainted husband " My mother thinks me like my Uncle Walter," he reolied wondermg by what process his lamented uncle Ld been canonized after death, since during his life his iniured wffe rwrcrSranXr^Jr^'^'""^^'^ me witn cruel candour. Here comes a carriage Is it Paiil'«! > » m some men would have been undignified, but in Sni only gave assurance of boundless vitality, and came in brinSng a breath of ^J^io^^^if^t^^^^^^^^^^ ^ -^^^^^^- ^' ^-^^^^ mfnh1,oVaX;' The cousins met with less of the savage indifference which fSs'ThV^hooi: f "I; ^' *° 'T^' '^ welco^ their'S even said thL^° ^"'^r T'l" *^^" °"^^' ^"^ smiled. Paul even said that he was delighted to see his dear Ted that it felt e%t T:^:„Tthl^ l°"f '^^^^ ^h^' ^^ hoped he iould oe aoie to extend the brief visit he purposed makine • while faurl.lTf J^"' '' ^^ ^'™ g°°d t° see hfs lear oM so tllv Then fh "^'\^^^ ? ^"^ '^^ °^d f^»°^ loo'=ng so jolly. Then they shook hands a?ain, and the firpi.aht danced upon Paul's irregular features and dark iry blue e/es and^brought mto unusual prominence a white scar 'beneatffi chins:uti7ovTr'him' '°" ^^"' ^°* ''''' ^^' ^^ '^'^ -'<^ to nffin^vf ""^ K ""'^^^y ^^'P °^ ^'^ *^o"si"'s hand, Paul turned '"s mother, who presented each cheek to him as she had done o Edward, and solemnly blessed him, as if he had been absent IHan' u^oTif ^ Th' ' l^T" ^°" -^"--^ti^ histS c^r-f y^^" "PO" It- Then Paul enquired with an air of deen ot":t?n?^Tr t' ^^'"P^^'"^ "^*h which she appea e5 had h?nnn ^^f!'^ '" *^^ "'^''^^^a and was informed that all had happily yielded to treatment, save one. I still have that dreadful feeline of constrir^inn aero- mv eyes^ She said, in a tone of mournful resignation: ^ Have you, indeed ? » returned Paul, earnestly. « Perhaos a little wine and your dinner may remote it If^not, I wT ^ve 24 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. i :i you a draught. I will take Ned at once to his room, and then we can dine without delay." Edward's surprise at finding his comely aunt the victim of so many dreadful pains was forgotten in the lively chat of the dinner-table, as well as in the great satisfaction that meal afforded him after his long walk. "Your renown has already preceded you, Edward," Paul observed. " Arden is already full of your arrival." " Arden ? Why I saw no soul there ! " " No ? Have you forgotten the sign-post ? " " What ! was that squint-eyed fellow an acquaintance of yours ? " he asked. "What do you think of that, mother, as a description of Gervase Rickman ? " said Paul. "You don't mean to say that was Gervase Rickm.an?" exclaimed Edward. " I thought I had some faint remembrance of him. Heaven only knows what I said about his father ! If he recognized me, why on earth couldn't he say so ? " " He was not sure till he described you to' me. By the way, mother, I forgot to say why I was late. I met Rickman, and had to turn in at Arden." It is thus that Love demoralizes ; nothing else would have made Paul Annesley invent lies, especially useless ones. His mother looked amused at his demure face, then she glanced at Edward and laughed. " And how was dear Sibyl ? " she asked with satirical gravity. " Sibyl ? oh ! I believe she was very well. She was out. You remember little Sibbie, Ned ? " Paul said, tranquilly. " A little mischievous imp who was always teasing us ? Oh ! yes, I daresay I should scarcely recognize her now. Is she grown into a beauty ? " " Are not all ladies beautiful ? " returned Paul. " You shall go over and judge for yourself before long:" • " I heard a sad piece of news at Arden," he continued ; " Captain Annesley is dead." " Who was he ? " asked Edward, indifferently. " There is an Annesley in the looth Hussars ; I never met him." Mrs. Annesley flushed deeply and said nothing for a few moments. Paul looked at her, and the unspoken thought flashed from one to the other, " this brings us very near the Gledesworth inheritance." " How very sad I " she said at last, in rather a hard voice, while Paul bit his lips and then drank som - wine, half ashamed at the interpretation of the swift glance. SHADOWS. 25 Z'n.v.T^' . ^l^^'^f'^' a "I'nute, " because after me, you are the next heir to the infant son he leaves." ^^a'^^a 'l^'^^stly; the idea of my being your heir!" replied sht'Ind^'^^ "'^^ 'P?^'ly enlightened as to^he exact relat on sh.p, and properly refreshed on the subject of the half-forgotten egend, m which he apparently took but a languid intere^ anS the conversation presently drifted to other topics ..n/lnnl'""^' ^V'-u^""'''^y P'^'^y^^ «""^^ ^o'^-^tas, and Edward sang some songs to her accompaniment till Paul, who had been s7umbl"''Th'e''otT' '".' " ^'^ T"" ^' ^" ^^y' sank ?nto a sweet describ np M<: Hf ' ^""^ '^n "''""'"S in low tones, Edward describing his life as an artillery officer in a seaport town not pTofVs at'wonf h-^hanc- of promotion and his'next bro?he ° progress at Woolwich, and hearing of Paul's position, which was not a happy one. Dr Walter Annesley's partn^er, who hid carried on the business since his death, unluckily died soon after Paul began to practise with him, thus leaving Paul to make his wav • Slo'tt?- th^""'^ ''^^^"^'^' '^^ '°"*h and we'nt to'oS Sed and th^"^' T'^ "^^^ ,^°'"S ^' ^™°°'hly as could be So thev ph.tt^H ?n'!i'' '"^'■""'y P^'^ ^""''« P^^«°"^J expenses, bo they chatted till the servants appeared, and Mrs. Anneslev Ss\ S?af ef h'I'k^ ''^"^ I'- '/^''^ ^^"^^ *« Performingihe' task himself after his labours, which he did not .u °Tj^i°^! ''^"^ smoke," said Paul with alacrity, when his mother had bidden them good-night. " I smoke in the^consuUin^ •| Why there ? " asked Edward, doubtfully. whe,? se.n feu '^he' -patients' tt^ '^ "°* ^-""^'^ T' tion, and recdve^ti'e^ T^ sHT^^T /taJ ?avoun'' ""' ^"' '■'''P'^°" °^ ^°"' ^"*' I ^^^ y°" -^^ in hTgh frn3^' f' "''i'^''!'u -y ^''§^^^^'" ^^P"^^ E:.>! I' ' \ 26 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. "Certainly," repliid Paul in some trepidation, and his mother entered. " I will not intrude, dear children," she said ; ** I merely come to tell Edward on no account to rise for our early breakfast unless he feels quite rested, and to bring him this little gift of my working." She vanished with a "God bless you, dear boys," before her nephew had time to thank her, after which both young men breathed more freely, and Edward took an embroidered tobacco- pouch from his parcel. "Poke the fire, Ned," Paul said cheerfully, when the door closed after her. Then he opened a closet where stood a skeleton partially draped in a dressing-gown, which the fleshless arm, ex- tended as if in declamation, threw back from the ghastly figure, and crowned by a smoking-cap rakishly tipped on one side on its skull. " Let's be jolly for once, * have a rouse before the morn.' " He transferred the dressing-gown from the bare bones to his own strong young shoulders, and the cap from the grinning skull to his dark-curleJ brow, beneath which the cruel scar showed. Per- haps it was Edward's fancy, excited by the suggestive revelation of the skeleton, which made the scar appear unusually distinct and livid ; perhaps it was only the light. " How kmd of my aunt to make this," he said, looking at the pouch. " She is kind," commented Paul, his temporary gaiety vanish- mg as quickly as it came; "no woman has a more heavenly dis- position than my dear mother when free from those attacks, which are probably the result of some cerebral lesion." "Perhaps," Edward suggested hopefully, "she may grow out of them with advancing years." " Perhaps," sighed Paul. "But all the Mowbrays are the same, you know. It is in the blood. My uncle Ralph Mowbray was offended with my father once, and he laid awake at nights for six weeks concocting the most stinging phrases he could think of for a letter he wrote him. I'll show you that letter some day." " Well ! I hope it will never break out in you, Paul," said Edward, incautiously. "I, my dear fellow ? " replied Paul, with his good-tempered smile, " there is no fear for me. I am a pure- bred Annesley." I* Ah ! " said Edward, looking reflectively at the fire. " There has not been a serious explosion since New Year's Eve," continued Paul, clasping his hands above his head, and lookmg at the chimney-piece, which was adorned with a centre- piece of a skull and cross-bones, flanked by several stethoscopes and other mysterious and wicked-looking instruments, and above SHADOWS. „ which was the smiling portrait of a lovely little girl, with a strorur PsychT o? Thorwald"''.^- "^°" '"°" ^°^ ' -'"^^ ^he Parian t^gH^bo^hrdfand mnZl h^a^th^^'- ^^' '^ ^'^ roip^'-t^risl^Ssr^ & s;;:lj^%s on y sister Nellie, whose end had been so tragic ' ^^ And what did you do ? " he asked. Paul "soVrav ri'^'.^'^^ °!'^> tea-service after it," replied « CK n "1°" * "°*'*^^ 'he absence of either." th.ftSfJ ?/^V^^"f'''^^'" s^^d Edward, inwardly thankful tha the fiery Mowbray blood did not flow in his veins was sTaS'v dLT'^'" fJ' P^"'..P-"-vely. " And the deed was scarcely done, when the door is opened, and in wilks fhn vicar and stares aghast at the Lares and Penates shattered on tt drawing-room hearth. My mother turns to h m w h the^o^t heavenly smile and tishes him a Happv New Year ' AnH^n!! see what that clumsy boy of mine ha^s'^'done/ The adds auiitlv ErS • ''' '^^^"^"'^- ' Q"''^ ^ ^--« fortps:?^nVthrng5 ountiL'W* ^ \^'^ something fall,' replies the innocent vicar quoting the line about ' mistress of herself though China faH' ?empe° "''''"''''"^ ""' °" ^^^'"^ a mother with'such .sweet Edward mused for some time on the misery of his cousin's lif^ thk^nTJ' ' h"''' *\^y^^"> himself. Td any Eon ?o Which on Edward's part he would have deeolv resent^H H» u^Xi'hlm JlftilS r' '^ P^TI!^ heavit fS'hirtSus'io d"' TmS? h'mself and he suggested that he should marry and have Kas noTv'et° n'a "''v' ^° ^'^^^ ^^"^ ^^P'^^^ mourn'fuSy, that < tI "^^y?* J" ^ position to set up housekeeping. ^^ Though indeed—" he added, and suddenly ftopped. "an?y'et— '° ^'"''' *° '''"^^ °" ^ ^^^^'^ ^^^^h," he replied; ^^^^ "- ^eing "'" p u "*^ smilea mysteriously. '° " Who knoLT ??T \" "' '^'■'^^" ^ " Edward added. t\fU^u °^^ "^ ^"* ^ have never yet spoken. I am not en titled by my prospects to do so. I ion't^ kr^y, i^ Th^e Z iiifs IM !M 28 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. smallest chance. And when you see her, Ned," he added, with some hesitation, " perhaps you will remember " Edward burst out laughing and grasped his cousin's hand. •* Don't be afraid," he replied, " I am not a lady's man ; and if I were, Aphrodite herself would not tempt me to spoil other people's little games. " " Remember your promise," said Paul solemnly, and they separated for the night, Edward wishing his cousin success, and thinking as he took his way upstairs that wh ivover Miss Sibyl Rickman's character might be, the Rickman blood was reputed to be an eminently mild and tranquil fluid, well calculated to temper the fire of such of the terrible Mowbrr.y strain as might have been transmitted to PuuL .1 'l CHAPTER IV, THE MEET. Y)^,^ Paul Annesley appeared at breakfast next morning he had a heavy look, and yawned a good deal, for which he apologized observing, casua ly, that he had been called up at two in the morning, and only got home at six. Mrs Annesley's comment upon this was a tran(iuil remark that It usually occurred three nights running; but Edward whose roufed r^'" Sf^ ^T '"^^^^^ °"^^ -^-'^ by sounds whkh Isieen in th '"^''!?L'^ '° '^^^'^ ^'"^ ^""^^^ '^ he had fallen fhif ? u *h^gyard-house, questioned his cousin, and learned that he had ridden five miles on the cob he had used the day a fnn?' H ' ^J"T V" ^ ^^"' ^hich could be approached only by a foo path ; that he had tied the Admiral to a gate in a field and left him while he visited the patient, who died. ' In the meantime, the horse had broken loose, and, after a long and tantalizing chaste round the field, Paul dropped and brokf b.s lantern, wandered knee-deep into a pool of wi ter, and slipped ?he da^r^T T' '' '^''' ^'^•^^ ^' ^''^^'^^ *° ^^^'k home th oSgh fate This nrovl "^r'"^'u?""^"S the provoking steed to his tur;H nf h! f Zu \^^ "°^^'"S more dreadful than being cap- iSn l&^^.l^^ '^^ P""'"'"' husband, and led back to Med- Sfnl ^ noH >w^^^ for various sad necessities. He now stood, with the animal before the door even while the cousins were talking, a picture of homely traged;. to tL'Cf these nocturnal adventures, Paul was bent on going nn, .^'^i' "^^'^^ "^^^ ^^ the "Travellers' Rest" on Arden Down that day; he was further bent on Edward's accompanying Taun old pi.!tP7'^"?-Tu^."°'^^"S b^"^^ than an immense gaunt old chestnut, which had once seen good davs leauirinp r;^T^fA-i:-?°-"'^- ^-^ ^Itha tWhti^m^an? he'ioveH 'liL / "t m" T °^3,^"tic Ihorough-bred, Diana, whom declined inH L '^ '■ ^"' ^^"^^'^^ ^'^h scarcely less heroism aI thL . ^^/^"^^'"'f ^t^^ted off on their dissimilar steeds. As they trotted quietly along, Paul stopping occasionally to f ! ■ ? '■ k THE REPROACH OF AN NFS LEY. visit a patient, Edward thou},'ht a good deal about him and his mother. What a good fellow he was, how cheerfully he faced the hardships of his lot, and, above all, what an excellent son he was to that very trying mother ! p'ew sons were so much loved as he, and his affection for his mother was deep and strong. He must have been very desperate when he smashed the tea-service ; It was the sole passionate outbreak on his part of which he had heard. He thought of his own kind and sweet-tempered mother, also a widnw, and to whom his conscience told him he was not as dutiful as Paul to his wayward parent, and wondered how it would have fared with himself, had his father married EUanor Mowbray, as family tradition, confirmed by gentle Mrs. Edward Annesley's severe strictures on Mrs. Walter, reported that he had wished to do. Over the chimney-piece in his bed-room at Medington was a portrait of Eleanor Mowbray which haunted him. It was taken at the time of her marriage, and represented a lovely girl in the childish costume of early Victorian days, with arch blue eyes peeping out from between two bunches of curls in front of the cheeks. He had gazed fascinated upon it, vainly trying to detect the lurkmg demon behind the angel semblance. He was on a visit to Medington when Nellie's death occurred. The child, then twelve years old, on being severely and unduly scolded for some slight fault by her mother, who was chasing her from place to place, harassed at last beyond endurance, had turned, seized a brush from the hall table, and thrown it at Mrs. Annesley. Edward was standing by. " Unc itiful child ! You have killed me ! You are unfit to live. Never let me see you again 1 " the mother burst out with fierce vehemence. The child took her at her word, and ran out of the garden door ; Edward never would forget her white face as she turned before disappearing. Next morning he saw her slight body borne drowned into that hall. She had not been missed; being in disgrace, she was supposed to be hiding about the house somewhere, until she was found by the river side, and thus tragically brought home. Were there other demons lurking unseen behind other angel faces ? he wondered. Did Eleanor Annesley in those innocent bridal days dream of what shp wns rnnnhiA? a\a ru^ ^v°« ~<>ar realize the horror of the thing which at times possessed her ? PauL though he had "sent the tea-service after" the Psyche, did not dream that the curse of the Mowbmys had fallen on himself; THE MEET, „ u- k I y . ."^^^ ^^°"* °" every s de by impassible limiN wh.ch obscure his nature almost as effectually as SiSvid^s S kappe. or Cloak of Darkness, did the her^ Kd^y pg ence but what.s stiU stranger, each is an insoluble mystery to himself No they must be, which prompted thoso d«ds f ' " raul m the meantime was haunted by the vision of Allrf .inin. in the carved oak seat beneath the «mour wkh the ho,,n^ "? "Exrept I be by Sylvia in the night, There IS no music in the nightinL'ale ; Unless I look on Sylvia in the day. X here IS no day for me to look upon » Then he mused upon the news he heard there and thonal,* how It would have been with him. had ReginaMTbaby not b^^^^^ born. His prospects were so dark, he could not help thinkinrof Edward's happier circumstances, his more agreeable life !nd comparative wealth. «*grccaoie uie and Now the chestnut pricked up his ears and looked about him "^our TaI ''?''"'^ ^^'^^ "-"^d DianaWn yoithS ardour, and they knew that the hounds were near • Paul Dressed "s naS ief ^^^^?^°-"g «^^^-^ of horses anTckrriagesTo s^^^ nis patient, leaving his cousin to follow at leisure all bu?near obfecfs'^^th" '5^ ""f '^'''^ "^^'^^ ^'^''^^ich obscited wL buirrnnt°T ''' ^^\ "^^.'"^^^^ ^P°t °" Which the lonely inn was Duilt looked gay and animated this mornine In front li th« ^L; ^ ■ \°f^ *he huntsman on his bright bav his s^^rl^t coat emphasized by the grey background of the nn tL w^ STw'oVof ^-^-',«PL-didly -ountefar-brig'hty'XS, o'ace' r?t°!.^!iie" h'\ b^°-' --«. exchanging politf co'mmon- the 'dav'wnnlH hl"r'' '"•"","''' °J ''^*"'" his expressions later in liLr. ^^. °^ ^^^^ ^'^^^ aiid more forcible. The ma« of £^iSe:rro.e-pis-'tetrr£S^^ u 3* THE REPROACH OF ANNESLSY. Hi I' of their own breeding, two or three beautifully equipped county gentlemen, a few ladies, some half-dozen nondescript riders, in- cluding a clergyman, who said he was only looking on, a rabble of boys, with half-a-dozen officers from regiments stationed near, made up the field. A barouche, two landaus, three waggonettes, a few phaetons, gigs and dogcarts, an empty coal-waggon and a butcher's cart, were drawn up in the road, and Edward vainly scanned the ladies in these vehicles in search of the object of Paul's affection. Then he glanced at the solitary inn, and thought of the suffer- mg that a thin wall separated from the animated group of pleasure- seekers. Reuben Gale was walking Diana up and down, and exchanging pleasantries with the Whip. His father was leaning on the low wall, with an empty pewter-pot in his hand, enjoying the scene just as if his daughter were not dying and he had not all those graves down in Arden churchyard. People were laughing, chattmg and smoking; horses were champing their bits, and sidhng and stamping with the exultation of the coming hunt. The warm, damp air was laden with the scent of opening buds, tram])!ed turf and trodden earth ; the luscious flute-notes of thrushes, and the tender coo-coo of wood-pigeons came from the , copses below and mingled with the occasional neigh of a horse or whine of a hound. There was a joyous thrill of expectancy that made Edward forget his steed's shortcomings, and neither he nor any one else thought of the background of tragedy which shadowed every human being present. « Among the horses was a beautiful white Arab, easily distin- guished by the characteristic spring of the tail from the haunches, and Edward observed the animal with such interest that he did not notice the rider. The latter, however, pressed his knees into the Arab, and sprang forward so suddenly that the excited La^y backed into an unpretending phaeton, containing an old geiftleman and a young lady. He caught the flash of a pair of dark eyes, as he turned after gettinc; free, and apologized, and then found himself accosted by the Arab's rider, a Highland officer of his acquaintance, who bestowed some ironical praise upon the unlucky Larry. Edward laughed, and explained that it was Hobson's choice. Captain Mcllvray regretted that he had not known in time to offer him a mount. "But, my dear fellow," he added in his affected drawl, " you said you were staying at Medington." "Yes, I am staying with some friends who live there." "Really," returned the Highlander, "do you mean to say that anybody lives in that beastly hole ? " THE MEET. 33 " Some few thousand people live there, I believe.* " Ah ! you mean, Annesley, that they don't quite die there, eh ? " he askedj not at once seeing the rebuke. " I mean that they live pleasant and profitable lives there," he replied, wondering if Paul's life were either pleasant or profitable. Captain Mcllvray appeared to muse in some wonder upon this assertion, while a humorous twinkle in his eye showed that he was conscious of his own affectation and of Edward's irritation over it. But he did not yet see that he had been rude. "And who are the virtuous people who live the supewior lives m the stweets of Medington?" he continued, determined not to be put down, and thus emphasizing the first discourtesy. "Paul Annesley, my cousin, a doctor," Edward answered, in the neutral tones which best rebuke rudeness; "that brown mare with black points is his ; he is visiting a patient in the inn there," he added, seeing that Captain Mcllvray perceived at last that he had made'k mistake. " He doesn't pretend to hunt, but .says he can't help it if the hounds will run in front of him." "Vewy good weasoning, vewy clever mare," the Highland officer said. " No idea you had friends there. Thought it was an inn." Then he asked to be introduced to the cousin, just as Paul came up on Diana, and Edward introduced them. "And now, Edward," said Paul, after a few words, "I must re-mtrbduce you to some old friends." And, turning, he led him up to the very phaeton into which the chestnut had just backed, and the owner of the dark eyes, who had unavoidably heard every word that had passed between the two officers, proved to be no other than Sibyl Rickman. " I should never have known you for our old friend, Sibbie," he said with unaffected admiration. Then the pack moved off to the copse below the inn, and the phaeton was drawn with the two horsemen into the moving stream which followed it, so that he had only time to observe a pretty voice and laugh, an animated face and an easily excited blush, as the charms which won Paul's heart. But Sibyl, having overheard his conversation with the Highland officer, formed an estimate of his character which she never altered. She mused on it while talking at the cover-side to Paul, when Edward was renewing his,acquaintance with Mr. Rickman. It seemed to the dreamy imaginative Sibyl that so fine a vision of young manhood had never before been revealed to her. Hi" very gesture when he patted the neck of the despised old horse went to her heart, and remained there for ever. The air was now alive with expectation \ the eager cry ot a ■•:• ( I i I ' I' I 34 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. across the fie dt 1h '"'""'"", " ''"''"'''• '"ms streaming be'auseTsm,ir;JJ^.,'i?'™«'' ?'""« ""^ »"'«' high-road! whS:rcaroLi';tm ftot^e fe™^d'et^L'"^'■^ ^ behind him w.th /c • -? ^'"® °*^ *"^ coppice, looking w«dVjcro„"rhu\°rd r«r HrfiTd rfT.'-^'' s:i."'t;^^et::;erfacT hr-^^l °' >^"-^ denunciations arLlonHflH ^^^"'^ "^'^^ ^'"^'h and his aU Ui,„,shed, and once spotless breeches stained with mud. There THE MEET. 35 IS a cry of "Ware wheat ! » that cunning Uttle brown beast has bolted straight across a field of young corn. On he dashes, less hindered by obstacles than any other member of the hunt, which perhaps makes him grin so sardonically as he flies. The carriages see most of the fun from the high road ; but now the hunt has vanished from their view, and spectators can only form shrewd guesses as to the whereabouts of the pack, and tyros are begmning to find that hunting is more complicated than it seems. Paul and Diana have gone as straight as any bird ; only once did they swerve aside, and that was to avoid over-riding Captain Mcllvray, whom they observed sitting with an air of bewilder- ment in the middle of a field, whither his horse (who, after coming down on his nose, was now picking himself up and continuing his course riderless and undaunted) had pitched him while taking a stiff fence. Nothing but delight reigns now in Paul's breast : neither the shadow of the Mowbray temper nor the glory of Alice Lingard's presence in the fire-lit hall affects him, and when he sees another man flying out of his saddle he is half angry lest he should have contrived to break some bone and so need his aid. But the man knows how to fall, and is soon mounted again, followed by Mcllvray, who has escaped with a few bruises, on his recaptured Arab. • "^u 5*^ ¥"^' ^^ ^"^ ^^^ "'^^'" ^^^'^^ ^°''go* ^>s advanced age in the first burst of joyous excitement, and pounded over a field or two, taking a moderate fence, with the best. But at the second fence, a good strong bullfinch, horse and rider, dreadfully mixed up, came rolling down the opposite bank together, and Edward had to execute a vigorous roll of his own devising to get free of Larry's hoofs. The old horse appeared none the worse for his tumble, and the rider, finding that his own bones were intact, went on with moderate ardour, seeking gates and gaps in fences'. What with these delays, and the necessity of going softly lest Larry should come down again, Edward was more than once thrown out, finding the trail agaip by dint of observation and surmise, and finally found himself a solitary rider on the slope of the down, with a spent horse, and the hounds nowhere. " Poor old fellow ! " he said, patting Larry's hot wet neck, as he walked quietly along, " I doubt if any horse has done so gallantly as you to-day. You gave me the best you could, and now we will jog quietly home." ■* ^ But the thing was to find a road ; and they went through a couple of fields without seeing a living creature or discovering any means of reaching the high-road Edward knew to lie along the valley. The ram had cleared off, the breath of primroses and 3-a ■i :| 36 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. left arm a wooden bS of ni. ' v! ^ "-^^ ^^*""g «" hS tinually dipped his riSlnH ?!?"¥[ ^hape into which he con- move JenrrhyS^^^^^^ -f an indescribably graceful scattered a shower of seed^om over V. ™°*'°/ °^ ^'^ «*^P«' delightful to watch this man T hL i^? f ^'"^ ^"'■'■°^«' ^^ wa scious dignity, strid n? S swi^^- ^ '^'^"^'^ '"^ """°"- of the rigi a.m up an^d do^rtfeX^f^-'"^ '^'^S^^^'^ ^^^^P h.s golden rain wiJi strenuTs but "etlated'tdf"'^"^ *'^°^'"S rrll sTcTS;^,^ u^p^Khl h ^^ '-^^ ^-^et followed by a counif of horses L5.' ^"? '^^'"'^^ ««■ again, the seed into the oil T?,rman nfo^'J ""''^ f ■^'''''^ *° '^ke his whip cheerily, and whis led^rn^^n ""^'^ !'''"''^'y' ^^^cked strange sounds to i^ hor^ L^'"7J?°*^^^^ "ot uttering nearest way to Medfngton ' °^ ^'"^ ^^^^'^""^ ^sked thi har?ow"cius"dts' stds" o If '7^°^'- '^^ ^* -th the burying his finge in hFs curl looked' '>k"^ °^ ^^^ ^^^p and Edward. ^ '^°'^" '"'° the high-road then!" asked «cZr<,r4rwrh tT;:aTctrd 'Slt- '^"-'-^ *- the remote regions of his brain "S v * i^f ';° Penetrate to agen you medVo along dorhroS" '" *'''^^ '^^"^'^- ^hen am no g^fint^^l^'road P^^'' "° ^''^' ^^^ ^^^^-i "but how to g^^^'toTr^fd ? »' "^"'^^^' ^^^--"g ^he sower, "howbehe fiel^sVet'en^hiL^V';?^^^,^^^^^^^^ '^^^^ at the ma^e of "Ay." replied the sower who 1 ' J^'^ ^" '^^ valley, out his dinner from a bundTe " vou'Il''''"^ ''^Z' ""^ ^ri^g'^g athirt them turmuts ; there' 'a LZn"''''V'^ ^'- Goo%n pomted his thumb vn^u'ifoVe- h- h Id ^^^^■"'''•" And he sow'^e: ron:id:!;eT" 5« fe^^^^^ ^"--g that the over there, with a westward direction of the THE MEET. air, and the 37 thumb, sufficient indication of the whereabouts of America, found a gate, and at last came upon a steep furzy slope the other side of the turnip- field. The ground gradually became rougher and steeper, and suddenly he found himself rapidly descending an almost perpendicular slope which the curve of the ground had hidden from him. He was just going to dismount, when he was relieved from that necessity by the sudden collapse of Larry, who stumbled over a rabbit-hole, and came crashing down head over heels, and rolled in a most complicated manner to the bottom : while Edward, on finding himself shot over Larry's head, instinctively guided his own rolls out of the horse's orbit, and,' arriving at the bottom by a separate track, kept his bones un- broken. The chestnut, less fortunate than his rider, was cut on his shoulder and knee, and presented a melancholy spectacle when he scrambled to his feet, and set about to console himself by browsing on the short turf near him ; and Edward, reflecting that hun'.ng on a worn-out hack has its drawbacks, began to wonder what was to be done next s. ' fM f ;: '■ 1 ' 1 i \\ 1 rg'|:i ' i . I^^H 1 1 i I CHAPTER V. ' ' 11^^ SPRING FLOWERS. He found the high-road at last and a cottage, where he turned , n and washed and bandaged Larry's knee. Then he set off on the road to Medington on foot, as fast as the woful limp of the unlucky chestnut would permit, with the bridle over his arn. and cheerily trolhng out reminiscences of the Bay of Biscay' The road was long, the Bay of Biscay came to an end. and Larry heard with interest all about Tom Bowling, whose "soul is gone Presently they reached a little village of thatched cottages in gardens dotted on either side of the road, and there beneath the aT °^ the down Edward recognized the low square tower of Arden Church, with the manor house just beyond it, and burst out lustily with « 'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay." "For England, Home, and Beauty," repeated the singer in f? ^J'^^K*^"' ^°'^^e/ing if the "Golden Horse," picturesquely shaded by a row of sycamore-trees, furnished good ale (for it was now quite hot and the sun was struggling through the Clouds), when he saw a phaeton approaching the turning to the Manor, and recognized the dark flash of Sibyl Rickman's eyes. 1 he phaeton pulled up. Mr. Rickman condoled with him upon his melancholy plight, and bade him turn in to Arden at once ; to which Edward at first demurred, averring that he was not presentable. That difficulty was soon got over. Larry was comfortably stabled; it was agreed that his owner should send for him later A httle soap and water and a borrowed coat, made Edward quite presentable, and his host, surveying him with satisfaction, and cbservmg that he had grown a good deal since he last saw him condticted him along a panelled corridor to the drawing-room, a cheerful apartment in white painted wainscot, with an oriel window looking southward on a sunny old-fashioned eard^n which was even now bright with early spring flowers. ° '"' The sun had at last burst through the clouds, and, as the drawing-room door opened, a flood of sunshine poured through SPRING FLOWERS. 39 the oriel upon his face, half blinding him for a moment. Then he saw Mrs. Ri Icman at work in an easy- chair by the fire, and near her Sibyl with a book, looking, now that she had put off her wraps, the pretty graceful creature she was. Having spoken to Mrs. Rickman, he turned once more to the light, vaguely conscious of a disturbing presence in that direction, and there, rismg from her seat beneath the glowing oriel window at a table on which she was arranging some flowers in vases, with the rich sunshine caUing out all the gold tints in her brown hair, and making a tiny halo about her head, he saw Alice Lingard. He stood still, and fixed a long earnest gaze upon her, not at first noticing Mrs. Rickman's introduction of "Miss Lingard, our adopted daughter," while a sudden light irradiated Alice's eyes and a warm glow suff'used her face. In one hand she held some daffodils ; as she rose, she overturned a basketful at her feet, and from the folds of her dress there glided primroses, violets and other spring flowers, of which the bowls and vases on the table before her were full. " O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon ! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty ; violets, dim* But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength." They were all there, those delicate flowers of hope and spring for which Perdita longed, to give to her young prince; they made a fit setting for the young and gracious creature who rose from their midst, scattering them as she rose. Her clear, tranquil gaze met the stranger's frankly for a moment, while a slight tremor made the slender daffodils quiver in her hand ; but his long and silent glance in no way offended her, nor did it strike any one else as disrespectful. It was as if he had been gazing all his life at that sweet vision among sun- shine and flowers ; yet everything within him seemed to die and be born again as he gazed ; life became glorious and full of dim delicious mystery in the sudden stir of intense feeling. He did not say, " This woman shall be mine," for he felt that she was his and he was hers for ever and ever. Then he became aware that in rising she had over-turned the basket of flowers, and after the silent reverence which he made ;u ' h 40 THk REPROACH OF ANNESLEY, I (I J! ! Nil! iif I on being introduced, his first action was to kneel before her and restore the scattered flowers to llieir places. "It is a sudden leap from winter to spring, from the wet morning with the hounds to all these flowers and sunshine," he said, as he handed her a mass of blue violets. '■Yes, the spring always comes suddenly upon us, when it does come," Alice replied, grouping the violets. " But, unluckily, it does not always stay," broke in Mr. Rick- man, in his rough voice, which resembled the rasping of a chair drawn over a stone floor; "even the Italians, who know what sprmg really means, the spring northern poets dream about and never see, have a proverb to that effect ; about the first swallow, Sibbie, my dear." "Nobody wants our musty old proverbs, papa," replied Sibyl, with a graceful impertinence that always pleased her indulgent father, " Mr. Annesley would far rather have some dinner." " Perhaps he would like some violets as a welcome bac^ to Arden, Alice," suggested Mrs. Rickman. " Those grey Neapo- htans are the sweetest. I can scarcely believe this is little Ned Annesley shot up so tall." " There, Mr. Annesley," Alice said, handing him a bunch of the double violets, " I present you with the freedom of Arden. Miss Rickman should have done it as the real daughter of the house." She looked up with a frank smile, which made him feel as we do in dreams when we light upon some long-lost treasure and imagine that an end has now come to all care. Mr. Rickman began to discourse, in his harsh yet kindly voice, upon the extensive use of flowers in the religious and civil life of ihe ancient Greeks, and Edward smiled to himself when he recalled Gervase's schemes in school-boy days to start his father on an absorbing monologue, and so divert his attention at critical moments. Mr. Rickman had not changed in the least; his small keen blue eye was just as bright, his face as dried-up and lined, his slight wiry figure had the same scholar's stoop, and his manner was as absent and dreamy as in those boyish days. Soon they found themselves at table in the dark oak-panelled dining-room, but it seemed less dark than when Edward had last seen it; the pictures, with their fine mellow gloom, still hung dusky in the darkness ; but some silver sconces and bits of old china brightened the walls ; a vase holding daffodils made a lustre against a black panel and harmonized with a blue china bowl of the same flowers on the table. Yet not these trifles alone brightened the darkness of that familiar old room. ♦' Yes," replied Mr. Rickman, when Annesley said something SPRING FLOWERS, 4» about the unaccustomed brightness the flowers wrou!:,'ht; "the feminine eye is ever seeking the ornamental. My daughters are occupied froni morning till night in trying to beautify every- thing. Happily they do not seek to improve my appearance " — this was too evident — "and respect the sanctity of my study " " The dirt of his den," interrupted Sibyl. "The whole of human history is permeated by this peculiarity of the female mind," continued Mr. Rickman, abstractedly gazing into space ; "all legend is pervaded by it. I purpose one day to bring out a paper on the ' Influence of the Feminine Love of Ornament upon the Destinies of the Human Race.' My paper will embrace a very wide range of thought. I suppose there is no period of human history when the feminine desire to wear clothes did not manifest itself; the passion for improving upon the workmanship of nature by art is evinced to-day in the rudest savage tribes as well as in the highest circles of European fashion. A necklace has in all nations been the most elementary article of female attire ; a woman paints her face and tattoos her body long before she arrives at the faintest rudiment of a petticoat. I need not remind my readers, — I mean you, my dears, and Annesley — of the part a necklace played in the tremendous drama of the French Revolution, and there are numerous episodes in that sanguinary tragedy " " But we can't dine on a sanguinary tragedy, papa," said Sibyl ; for, having started himself upon a congenial topic, her father had laid down his knife and fork, and with folded hands was placidly contemplating the joint rapidly cooling before him. "True, my dear, very true, I had forgotten the dinner," he replied, with his accustomed meekness, while hastening to carve the joint ; " the female mind— but perhaps, Annesley, the female mind may not interest you. At all events you can read my notes upon the subject later, and you may be able to furnish me with the results of your own experience in that branch of study." In spite of his pedantry, Mr. Rickman was in Annesley's dazzled eyes a charming and interesting old man, with his stores of out-of-the-way knowledge and his simplicity concerning the things of every-day life. Mrs. Rickman seemed the most loveable old lady, as she truly was, and Sibyl the wittiest and prettiest of sprightly maidens : the simple food before him might have been a banquet, the Arden home-brewed ale was a drink for gods. It is difficult for cold blood to realize the enchantment that fell upon him, the kind of enchantment that makes everything around one charming, oneself included. He could not tear himself away. After dinner his host, finding ■'. (.! 43 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. li'lin him so good a listener, took him ♦o his study and showed him his treasures— coins, gems and antiquities; but when these were exhausted, he lingered still as if spell-bound, apparently listening to the notes of a piano sounding through the house. Some instinct told him that Alice's hand was evoking the solemn harmony. She continued to play when he entered the drawing-room whither his host led him, looking up to ask if they " minded the music." He took a seat by Sibyl, his eyes following the slender fingers which drew the living music from the passive keys, and his mind full of jnspeakable thoughts. Then she s;.ng the beautiful song, — ° " Tell me, my heart, why morning's prime - Looics like the fading «ve," — which is like the long-drawn sigh of an excessive happiness, and he listened m ever-growing delight. Sibyl looked at him once durmg the music and a strange feeling came over her ; his face was like that of a St. George she had seen pictured somewhere, so rapt and earnest. Then, at Mrs. Rickman's request, Sibyl sang, to Alice's accom- paniment, the following sons : • Once have I seen and shall love her for ever ; For the soul that glanced from her eyes .o mine Is lovely and sweet as its delicate shrine ; But once have I seen and must love her for ever, All my heart to her resign ; Thoujjh never for me her eyes may shine. Though never perchance may I divine How 'tis when lives together twine, Since once I have seen I must love her for ever." Still he lingered, though the afternoon, which grew more balmy and beautiful towards its close, was wearing away, and one of the girls opened the window wide to let in the sunny air, and he knew that he ought to go. "And is Raysh Squire alive ? " he asked, seeking some excuse for hngenng. " I should like to see the old fellow again." " You may hear him at the present moment, ringing your poor cousin's knell," said Sibyl, calling his attention to the tolling from the steeple near, which had not ceased since he approached the village, though it had been but faintly heard through the rlnspd windows, and Mr. Rickman suggested' that the ladies should take their guest to the belfry and reintroduce him, a proposition Edward eagerly seconded. SPRING FLOWERS. 4S :e s accom- Even while they spoke, Raysh Squire came to the end of his monotonous and melancholy office in the chill belfry, and went out into the afternoon sunshine, stretching his stiffened arms and yawning. As he did so, he saw a figure in shirt-sleeves by a barrow on the other side of the churchyard wall in the vicarage grounds, stretching his arms and yawning with ecjual intensity, and since nothing fosters friendship like a community of interests and occupation, this sympathetic sight moved him to drag his slow steps across the mounded turf to that quarter, and, resting his arnris on the wall, to look over it, just as the figure in shirt-sleeves, which was that of a young and stalwart man, executed a final yawn of surpassing excellence, and seating himself on the barrow, began to fill a short pipe. " Warm," said the sexton, a long wiry, bony figure, with a fleshle-'S face, black hair, and whiskers touched with grey. " Warmish," replied the gardener, slowly, without raising his eyes from the turf on which he was gazing, while he kindled the pipe he held in the hollow of his hands. Then the sexton, turning round towards his cottage, which stood at the churchyard gate, beckoned to his grandchild to bring him the mug she held in her hand, which contained his ** four o'clock," a modest potation of small beer. "Buryen' of mankind. Josh Baker," said the sexton, after applying himself to this refreshing cup, and thus concealing his features for some moments, "is a dryen traade." " Ay," returned the gardener, after slowly and solemnly sur- veying the sexton's withered features for some time, "you looks dried, Raysh Squire." Then he withdrew his gaze and puffed with long, slow puffs at his pipe, bending forwards, his arms resting on his legs, which were stretched out apart before him, and his hands clasped together. "Buryen' of mankind," continued Raysh, after a thoughtful pause, during which he sought fresh inspiration from the " four o clock," " IS a ongrateful traade. Vur why ? Volk never thanks anybody fur putting of 'em underground." Josh pushed his felt hat back on his yellow curls, and ap- parently made a strong effort to take in this strikingly new idea for a moment or two, after which he replied, " I never yeard o' nobody returning thanks vur the buryen', not as I knows on. I haint." "No, Josh Baker, and I war'nt you never will, wuld boans as you med niake. A ongrateful traade is buryen', a ongrateful traade." I hreckon you've put a tidy lot underground, Master Squire,', said the gardener, after a pause. ■' % w v. \\ (I , I •;• If ? i 44 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY t' "Hreckon, I hev, Josh," returned the sexton, with a slow lateral extension of the lines in his withered face, resembling a smile. " Hreckon I've a putt more underground than you ever drawed out on't, aye, or ever wull. IVe putt a power o* quality underground, let alone the common zart. Wuld passon, I buried he, and the Lard knows wiiere I be to putt this here one, the ground's that vuU. Eln Gale, she's a gwine up under tree there. I shown her the plaace ; ' And I'll do ee up comfort- able, Eln,' I zays. ' Thankee kindly, Master Squire,' zes she • •you allays stood my vriend,' she zays. 'Ay, and I allays ool, hln,^ zays I, 'and I'll do ee up proper and comfortable, and won t putt nobody long zide of ee this twenty year to come.' 'Thankee kmdly, Master Squire,' she zes, "tis pleasant and heartsome up under tree when the pimroses blows, and you allays stood my vnend.' There aint a many like Eln. A ongrateful traade is buryen' and a dryin' traade." J' You aint ben' burying of this yer Capen Annesley, Raysh," objected the gardener after some thought. " How be urn to bury he, if so be as he's yet by a elephant ? " " Hreckon they'll hae to bury the elephant. Josh Baker, if so be they haes Christian buryen' in they outlandish plaaces o' the yearth. I've been a hringen of en' out vur dree martial hours, and I ve a done what I could vor 'n. I caint do no more I hringed 's grandfather out and 's brothers, hringed 'em out me- zelf, and terble dry work 'twas. Av, I've pretty nigh hringed em all out. Annesleys is come to their last end." He illustrated this melancholv assertion by a final application to the "four o'clock," having \ rought which to ..s last end he handed tlie mug to the little uide-eyed grandchild, who trotted off with It. " This yere doctor o' ourn's*a Annesley; there's he left " ob- jected the gardener. ' "There's Annesleys, and there's Annesleys, Josh Baker. Zame as wi apples, there's Ribstone Pippins and there's Codlings They Medington Annesleys is a common zart," said the sexton' his voice conveying severe rebuke for the gardener's ignorance' mingled with compassion for his youth. "Ay, Josh E iki r li.is yere's a knowledgeable world, terble knowledgeable world 'tis to be zure. The gardener was too much crushed by this combination of axiom and illustration to make anv renlv. hpvnnd ^/.nKff.,n„ nazardmg the observation, " Codlings biles well," which was frowned down, so he continued to smoke steadily with his eyes fixed on three daisies before him, while the scent of his tobacco, SPRING FLOWERS, 49 which was a doubtful odour, mingled with the scent of the mown grass in his barrow with most agreeable results. The sexton meantime leant upon the mossed stone wall, en- joying the double pleasure of successful controversy within and the warmth of the March sunbeams without, and listened with vague delight to the rich flute-notes of a blackbird near, till the click of the churchyard-wicket made him turn his head in that direction and walk slowly thither, while the gardener still more slowly rose and wheeled his barrow with its fragrant burden to its destination. "Afternoon," growled Raysh, pulling his hair slightly as he approached the ladies from the Manor, and looking at them as much as to say, " What do you want now? " "You may as well look pleasant, if you can, Raysh," said Sibyl ; "we have only brought you an old friend." "You don't remember me. Master Squire, I daresay," said Annesley. " I was here as a boy with Mr. Gervase Rickman and my cousin, Paul Annesley." " I minds ye well enough," replied Raysh. " Master Eddard you be, and a terble bad buoy you was to be zure. You uid t'others, between ye, ptetty nigh gallied me to death. Not as I bears no malice, I ' ee. Buoys is made a purpose to tarment mankind, zani is malleyshags* and vlays, and buoys they'll be till kingdom come, 1 hreckon." •' I fear we did lead you a life of it. I seem to remember get- ting into the tower and ringing the bells at some unholy hour." " D'ye mind how I whacked ye vor't ? " replied the old man, brightening at the recollection. "You minds, Miss Sibyl; you zeen me laying the stick athirt the shoulders of en' and you zinged out to me to let en off, and I let en off. I'd gin en a pretty penneth avore you come," he added, wit! satisfaction. "And I had forgotten this service, Miss Rickman," said Annesley, laughing. " Perhaps some day I may repay the debt, though not in kind. Can we get into the chur* h, Raysh?" " You med get into church if you'd got ar a kay," replied the old man ; " but if you aint got ar a kay you'll hae to wait till I vetches one vor 'ee." " He gets more arbitrary every day of his life," explained Sibyl laughing ; " and we spoil him more and more." Alice stopped at the churchyard gate to see the sexton's ailing wife, and this circumstance caused Annesley to hurry through the church with only half an interest m the tombs of his ances- tors who were buried there, and the humours of his old friend * Caterpillars. jl f V ] I'll li: .4llM 46 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. latter and Queen vfctoria hSn^" 7.°k '°"'' ^"^ "^""S ^^ ^^e that neither of fhL?' • "^f°™ed them, evidently thinkine sceL without his a?d ^^^^^^'^^^ ^^^'^ have quitted tLs mortal wu^^^%'b'e' tdT^t^o/f '-Zr^^^ °' '^""^^"' -"d well nesley.aJants to' d^al f ^i-^^^^et^V^^^^^^^^ ^^^"■ d'L'^tVt-n;;^^^^^^^^^^^ they publican doos Th^^ ^ '°7'^l ^' ^^^ ^^^^ o' my hand, you b^egins zettrng dovvnVhat 1^^ ^^''l ^ ^^''^ vor'tf when never knows wherf 'fwll? end Thih •^'^•> "?^1^ '^'g^' y°" lucy ve a zet me down long wi the lav vnit 00 *u i^i nar a bit better than thev A^ Ml ? ' ^l^^^ough I wasn't Ay, that's how ,H *; rough^"'™'- "°"'"° "°*ink,'zes they! sealad this asseS by tte SsSre of'aTr P<'''"?i^"..»°''. having fleshless palm, came o'u. of T chSrch thusleS T ^^^""'^ pression upon the old spvfnn ,„!,,!'• ^ l '^^'"8 a good im- belfty befo'ie fcaUyto'ktgr door"''' '"'""' '° ""^ "P'"' CHAPTER VL i THORNS. It would have been better if Edward Annesley had resisted the spell which kept him chained to the spot that afternoon ; but he did not. He lingered outside the sexton's cottage, waiting for Alice, and talking to Sibyl of the days when they were children. " We were such extremely tiresome children," Sibyl said, "that I can't help hoping that we have a chance of growing into at least average Christians." Then it was that some demon inspired him with the notion of forwarding Paul's suit by proxy, and he replied that one of them, namely Paul, had matured into something far beyond the human average, and that all he wanted to bring him to absolute perfec- tion was a good wife. When he said this he looked straight into Sibyl's bright eyes, but without evoking the embarrassment he expected. Then he blundered further into some observations upon the wisdom of marrying a friend known from childhood, and said finally that he thought such a friendship the best feeling to marry upon. ' " Do you think so ? " she returned wistfully, and with the self- forgetfulness which lent such a charm to all she said: "I can't help thinking that /should like a little love." "A little," he echoed, looking with warm admiration at the bright face still so unconscious of itself; "oh I Miss Rickman, it IS not a little, but a great deal of love that such a face as yours commands !"— He broke off, feeling that he had blundered seriously. Sibyl bent over a honey plant encrusted with pink- scented blossom, about which the bees from Raysh Squire's hives were humming— an old-fashioned cottage plant, the scent of which ever after stirred unspeakable feelings within her— for a moment, and then, quickly regaining her composure, replied What rubbish we are talking ! we want Gervase to nut us down with one or his little cynical speeches." " Has Gervase grown into a cynic ? " he asked, wondering how great an ass he had made of himself, and greatly relieved when ii i 1 i] 1 1 I ■ ''■■•M ! m ' i m ; i ! I 48 THE REPROACH OF ANN ES LEY. "'"■ f the long recital of Grandmother Squire's woes being at last ended Ah^ce came out from the honeysuckled porch. ' Siby?'sSeS''''«??f ' ^' ^" the loveliest frame of mind to-day, hi hi She said. Sure enough, Miss Lingard,' she told me « we but wh^. r° P"'i "P ^"'^. P'-o^idence. hreumatics and alL^ Not whl if ^^ ^ '?^d,"^e^^'es. There was the twins took off. and what we yarned m the chollery.' " ' the' co^t'.^^ '°? ■' " f'^™^'?t^d Sibyl, as they turned away from /eLrSav^\2h j/h'r"'''"l ^°l^ '^>' ^^'- ^he said only yesterday, Raysh is bad enough, and I've a put up with he this b"ss un ! '!^VhT'' ^^^ ^^^^'^ ^^' "°^'-g t'oleumahc;' mess un! Oh! Sybil's gay voice suddenly changed to a shriek of terror-«« He will be killed ! " she cried and flfwdnwn t'^f ^^^ *° the high-road, preceded by Tnne ley. who leLfT ' AVsiU?c°rvTH?H°P^"'-"'"^ ^^'^ ^^" to^aU Raysh' ^ro„ i^ ^^\' ^^^ *^^ grating sound of an overturned vehicle dragged over the gravel, the others turned their faces to the high-road, where they saw a half-shattered dog-cart, olted alon^ by a powerful iron-,^ey horse, which was kickingSns tt rub at his heels and maddening himself afresh at evlr^ ck At the horse's head, and holding him with a grasp of iroZwas Gervlse R ckman, hatess, and in imminent peril in his backwad course but making his weight tell fully against the plunging horse whose ' I^'had%°T'r^ ^^^-«t-d altogether for f ^foment '' friSf.npH "r'd^f tly been struggling for some time with the frightened animal ; his face was pale with fatigue, and his hair damp with sweat. At some distance further up the Sad kv the unfortunate groom who had been thrown out by the overturn of the venicle, and who occasionally got up and tried to wa L and then throwing up his arms in agony, fell again, hur° i^the leg ' helD SoZ'' '^'"^^^"^ P^"^^"y °"' "°^ ^"d then cal ing fL' help Some women came out into the cottage-gardens and shouted the first male name that occurred to thf m Toshua Baker came pounding heavily over the vicarage lawn, with widi spread arms and an action like that of a runaway ^rt-horsl Raysh issued from the churchyard with a lengthened but certainly not hurried stride, and arrived in time to bestow h"s the1po?fiTst°Sibv1 '"!JT °/ ^'^^ ^^' ^'^^P- Annesley Reached rnfnSr Vj' '« ^^ ^""^ J°'^ ^^'^ ^ 8°°^ sccond, and in a few minutes the first-comers had cut away the wreck and set the heff i^smW h-' ?"^"^ ''''■ ^J-g-ggaSy\Mhe" a t's neaa, m spite of his indignation with Sib"! n-hc *r:'-H t- ^-i u away from the horse, until the creature, released from the T' THORNS, 49 clattering encumbrance at his heels, gradually quieted down, snorting and quivering less and less. By that time the owner of the equipage came running up from a house beyond the village, where he had been visiting a patient, while the unlucky groom, having dozed off in the afternoon still- ness, had been taken by surprise when some pigeons flew suddenly up under the horse's nose and started him off. Before the frightened lad could get the reins properly in hand, the head- long course was terminated by a cannon against the bank at the corner, and he was pitched out. In a very few minutes the wreck was cleared from the road, the runaway led off, the injured lad taken into the " Golden Horse," and attended to by his master, for whom a four-wheel had been got ready and the Manor party moved off slowly homewards. /"r.r ley forgot his prejudice against the "squint-eyed fellow" of • ;. evious day ; he could not have renewed his acquaintance w»Lu iuckman, whom he had last seen a lad in his teens, under better circumstances. His heart warmed towards the sturdy figure he had seen putting out all its strength against the great horse, with eyes glowing with courage and determination and every nerve mstinct with vigour and gallantry. " Well, Annesley," Gervase said, with a careless laugh, when they had reached the house, " perhaps you ought to know that you have been playing the Good Samaritan to Paul's most deadly foe. You may have heard of some of the misdoings of Davis. No ? Then you will before long." "I thought I knew the man," Annesley replied. "What I not the son of old Dr. Davis, he looks too old ? Why does Paul dislike him ? He seemed a good fellow." " That old look is the head and front of his offending. He gets all Paul's patients by it. It is hard upon Annesley, who has twice his brains and education. He studied at Paris, as you know, after walking the London hospitals, while Davis scrambled through his course as best he could, and took a second-rate Scotch degree. Yet Davis succeeds ; he so thoroughly looks the family doctor, and was an aged man in his teens. Paul is rich in legends of the atrocities committed by Davis *Jirough Ignorance and stupidity." Annesley replied that Paul's youthful looks did not seem a sufficent set-off against skill and science ; but Rickman explained that other things were against Paul. " You may have noticed," he aaded, " that he has an unlucky habit of speaking the truth; he has never mastered the truism that language is given us to conceal our thoughts." I !■-; 'A CO THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY, ^^^^^r^^^^^^t:^^^^ '^' ^abit, but did not .ee ohse^l6LVZ'tlL\1:r:^i r' "^"^ ^^-'^ •'^ - odds with Davis,- "Wl^rje^'j^^^^^^^^^^^^ I should like you to observe wsuanv :;;;;/" '^^ Mowbrays are. you met a delightful felLw named ^avTsrHd^'h" ,^'!, ^"^T' '^^' ts:^i> "- ^"' '^- ^-not^Snrnorrth^ei^^^^^^^ that grain of salt witJ your slTsSeme„t! "'"'"' ^'^^^^^ *^^ "ButS^;.tMr'^,^"^^^^^^^^^ she replied, cousm-yes, and on Mrs. Anneslev S 5^'''' ^^*' ^^ yo" people who are intimate witrtheA^i^f/ 'f 'f^ *?" ^ ^""' ^^d set, and the Davis set do^t mi^S T/a°"^ t' ' *^^ »^^« medical profession is a jea'ous one '^ ^' ^"""'^"^^ ^^^- The himagtifd::i^X',^^ ^oesn. look a da/c^dt\ha^nTeX?r!1^o''^^^^^^^^^ ^^ ^^ ine old rascal wear «tso. b«i„ .hat keep. tZ^J^' SS .T.t:±,^.^.'SM ^;i^r>- -^ '^'^ «% «.an I ever' heid 't^-"^^ ^^^ THORNS, 5» you I only to do, "Why, Gervase, he is a rank Tory," cried Sibyl, "and are a Liberal ! How can you agree with him ? " " Innocent child 1 Who said that I agreed with him ? said he talked sense in politics, which I take care never because people would never listen to me if I did." 'J Really, Gervase," said Alice, "I cannot understand your politics. With us you always talk like a Conservative, and yet whenever you write or speak in public you express the most extreme Liberal opinions." "Party government," replied Gervase slowly, "is a useful machine, but it has its drawbacks. (3ne is, that it obliges men to adopt a certain formula of clap-trap and stick to it." "Just so," said Annesley, rising to take his leave. '*If you want to keep your hands clean, you must leave politics alone." " I don't believe it," cried Ahce warmly. " I cannot believe that honour and honesty are not necessary in the government of a great nation. Men are so weak" before evil, so ready to bow down before the mean and base. If they had but the courage to stand up before Wrong and say, ' We will not bow down to it, we do not believe in this god ; Right is stronger than Wrong,' what a different world it would be ! " "It would indeed," replied the young men simultaneously, but each with different meaning, and Gervase explained that he v/as not speaking of ideal politics but of party government— a very different matter. Then Edward took his way homeward, musing upon the sudden fire in Alice, and stirred by her words, though he seemed to listen to Gervase, who walked part of the way with him. Paul Annesley did not appear until dinner was served; he had been in at the finish of the best run of the season, and on his return had to make another journey. He was fagged and half-stupid, in poor condition to entertain the small dinner-party before him, which was to be augmented later on by a contingent of young people to tea. " For Heaven's sake, Ned," he managed to whisper to his cousin, " entertain all these solemnities for me ! I am dead-beat, and as stupid as an owl." An order that Edward received and carried out literally. For a full hour after dinner the wearied doctor could do nothing but yawn, until in desperation he went out of the room and got himself some strong coffee, while his cousin took his place. Medington parties were not very brilliant, as a rule; the same set of people transplanted from house to house, and going through 4— a m * ! ,; ■ ■ \ ' J' llj Sa THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. whpn K ""^t ''^"^^ °"* ^g^'" J"st after his dose of coffee and amusin. ;r'"'i^ '"^ '"^^^^^ '^^ ^°°"^ unnoticed,°o find people (IS ^' ^"*^ ^'^ ^°"S'" q^ite at home in his place a auepr feehng came over him. He sat silent and gloom^f n a remnfl corner, mentally recalling all Edward's past mTsdeeds and dts paragmgly criticizing his present demeanL. '"''''^^'''' ^"^ ^'^• stances Indt'^T f ^^^"^^^'L^r' stronger, in better circum- renoSi? f ^ P'-ofession that he had himself most regretfully T^ZtilZV'Txxt ^"^^'/^l-?' though perha'ps PaU was Sot thf ^onH in ^".h^'^off 'ously thought was that Edward up to^he mS /h °'' ^^ ^^^ ^^^"' ^'^ '"^""^^ ^as "Ot quite h?|affy%rs'or^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^o- ^^-Vt r.oc • "u^- ^^f ^ ^l^^'^y reflections, his cou' .n observed to him in S; he' went '°"'""^ '^ *" '^^^ ^^ ^°^ ^h^^' ^' d' ^boVe^^! Then he heard his mother request his cousin to do some HttlP se mce that should have fallen to himself, and again be^n men hi^eflSrol^"' T'^ '5 ^°°'^^. "P '^y cha'nceani caught farted with^ 1 ^^^'^'^Sgard scowling face in a mirror, and W^gL"r;ier^htTeV''^" °' '^' °"" ^^^^""^^^ ^^^^^ made niJhi^Sw^!^ ^1g'"^ r^^* f '•'^"^^ ''^^^ done without you to- «&^ .?' ,^/'- A?"es'ey said when the people were gone Paul was utterly fagged and stupid. Another time it would be better for you to leave the room altogether. Paul." „^-*r '"® ^^1^"S "^^"' t^a* cousin of yours," said an elderlv gentleman whom Paul was helping into his coat in the halP tht .1, ° '? ^""' ^^l*^"^^^ ^^ "^'^^ t° look in." wS i possfble eel n.s'r ^^^7^^^'"^' ^°"'^ ^^^ ^° ^^^ -<^^rbity of Paul's reelings? He would have scouted the idea. he had S^^^f *" ''"'5 ^' -^^ ^^'' ^^ ^°^ld "°t go to bed until he had had a few words with his cousin, whom he tonk to h^' room to smoke. ' "' '" " "I think," he began, after a few fierce puffs at his pipe, " that «» THORNS, S3 you might have waited for me before calling on the Rickmans. As I told you, I had arranged my work on purpose to have a spare morning to-morrow, and meant to drive you over to luncheon." He was only half mollified when Edward recounted his mis- adventures with the chestnut, and his accidental meeting with the Rickmans at their door. " You military fellows never suffer from want of assurance," he grumbled ; " you seem to have made yourself pretty well at home at the Manor." " It was not due to personal merit ; I was received as your cousin," he replied. " I say, Paul, I congratulate you on your choice. I am glad you forewarned me ; such a charming girl, and so clever as well as pretty ! " Paul's eyes flat-ned ; he could scarcely bear even to hear her admired by another, and the word " pretty " seemed so inade- quate to express the lofty charm that made a sort of paradise about Alice. " And do you suppose," he replied in his haughtiest manner, '' that my choice would be less than the very highest ? No mere prettiness would attract me. I may never win her, I may never even have the right to speak to her. But I shall never decline upon a meaner choice." " Oh! you will win her, never fear," replied Edward, on whom this arrogant tone jarred. " But why not drive over all the same to-morrow ? It would only be civil to thank Mr. Rickman for stabliri^ the unlucky chestnut." **It would be more military than civil," returned Paul with asperity. " If you begin an acquaintance by coming two days following to lunch, hoy on earth you are to carry it on. Heaven only knows ! " It must have been the iced pudding, Edward thought ; some- thing has disagreed with him. " You did not tell me," he added aloud, after long and silent reflection on the face he had seen in the sunny oriel among the flowers that morning, " how Miss Lingard came to form one of the Arden family. Has she been with them long ? " "When Sibyl was about thirteen they advertised for a girl of the same age to educate with her. Then Miss Lingard's guardians placed her there. She has no ties of her own, and having become attached to them, and they to her, she now considers Arden her settled home." " They all appear fond of her, even Gervase," returned Edward. "She treats him quite as a brother — — " !-.! m 1 1 '\k S-^ 54 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY, i «"Sk^ ^h^t strike you? " interrupted Paul. Oh I yes, she scolded him just as my sisters do me. And she picked u], his hat and dusted it in the most matter-of-fact way and he took it without a word of thanks. How pluckilv he TX^^aa'}"' ^''^''^ ^'''' ■ ^ ^''^' ^'^'^«^^"- I iS^e them all, he added warmly. " Such genial people, so clever, and yet so homely m their ways. I like homely way^. I like the dear Old house. It seemed all sunshine and music and flowers I » .hh:f:erf4iS:.' '"'''' '"' ''^ ^^^^ ^^^^^ ^° '^^^^ *»^« vioIe^J?'^ ^ ''"°'''" ^^ ^^°"^^'' " ^^"'" ^^ 8°* *h°«^ confounded c./?""' f^a'"^ *° ^^^^ ^'^ ^°"^*" '" his room just before dinner, the scent of flowers attracted him, and he saw a bunch of doub'e grey yolets in water on a table. He knew his habits well, and buying flowers was not among then. ; so he laughed and came to his own ' thTfiir"'--,, K^°"^' ^''^ ^^'' ^™ "-'« ^i°J^ts, I'll wager? anS the fellow will be sentimental for about half an hour ovir them " But, now he knew that Edward had been to Arden, where in a warm nook beneath the south oriel those double violets grew a spasm clutched at his heart. ^ ' « v"^ !°.^^^^,^.^''^ y°" violets?" he said, tranquilly, "Violets? What violets?" asked the other with an i,n successful effort to appear indifferent. ' """ '' Those in your room. They scent the house. Love and a fire cannot be hid, neither can violets." "They were given me by the ladies of Arden," «Edward explained, with an nbarrassed and almost apologetic air wakedt't T^''"" r-'"J' ''' ^"'^^^ ^«"^«- Then he rose and walked to tne closet which contained the skeleton, and opening nw ?°°'"',f °°^ h'« ^'} ^' the grinning skull within uttering in f low tone the sole word « Damnation ! " Then he returned to the fireside much refreshed, and quite unnoticed by his cousin, whosi shght natural powers of observation were now totally obscured by the circumstance of his having fallen head-ovei^ears in love • J?^ ^°u"^*^^ *^'^ "°* SO to Arden next day, but on the follow- •ng day the Rickmans dined with the Annesleys, and aU exceDl .ng Gervase, arrived early in the afternoon, mking Jie house according to their custom, their headquarters while carrying on an extensive shopping campaign. ^ ^ Perhaps it was odd that Edward Annpslpv «,!,« «,»,. ^-* :u,- fjaying billiards at the club opposite thrBVrlini^oolTho^rsrS' after long reconnoitring at the wind6w, bethink him that Mrs. Annesley had lamented having come to the end of her knittb^ THORNS. ss I cotton, and straightway sally forth and enter the fancy-work shop, where he appeared as much surprised to find the Arden ladies as they were to see him. " I want— ah ! — some cotton- -to knit with," he explained in answer to the shopwoman, when Sibyl told him that she had thought knitting as a means to kill time was confined to the lower ranks of the army, and was not affected by officers. "Officers," he replied with solemnity, "are always delighted to be useful — when they can." " A capital proviso," replied Sibyl. " I should have thought being ornamental exhausted their energies." " Do not heed that mad girl," said Alice, smiling indulgently ; "she is out for a holiday." But he heard a great many more teasing remarks that afternoon from Sibyl, whose grace and dainty manner carried her safely through much that in others might have seemed pert, and the end of it was that Paul, who came in to tea on purpose to meet the Arden ladies, was scandalized to see the two younger walking leisurely up the street, accompanied by his cousin, laden with books from the library. Mrs. Annesley laughed when she heard of her nephew's civility in buying cotton for her ; but Paul looked very grim, and watched him closely all the evening. Edward sang to Sibyl's accompaniment, and turned her leaves for her when she sang, and then he sat by her side and talked ; while Alice played to Gervase's violin, and the elders, including the watchful Paul, played whist. No word or movement on Alice's part escaped Edward's notice ; but something, which was partly the chivalry of deep feeling, and partly the perverse fate which besets lovers, made him careful to conceal his interest in her, and appear more occupied with Sibyl whom he cordially liked. Thus Paul was put on a wrong scent, and was more genial to him that night than ever. " Sibyl is undoubtedly the attraction," he thought li r: 'I :| II I H. PART II CHAPTER L APPLE- BLOSSOMS. A FEW weeks after Edward Annesley left Medington, which he did without again meeting the Manor family, Paul unexpectedly arrived at the garrison town in which his cousin was quartered and spent some days with him, in a dejected frame of mind! Before returning to Medington, he reminded Edward of his promise given on his first evening at Medington, to the effect that he would not spoil his chance of success at Arden Manor, which the latter renewed, laughing at his cousin's seriousness. Paul then spoke of his wishes with regard to Alice Lingard, whose name he did not mention, and of the pecuniary difficulties which prevented him from asking her to marry him. But he did not say that he was actually in debt, having lost heavily through running Diana in a steeplechase, nor did he say that he was in the habit of associating with men of ample means, rK)tably the Highland officers to whom Captain Mcllvray had introduced him, and sharing m amusements that he could not afford "Dont you t'.ank," Edward said, "that your mother would furnish funds for the marriage ? She must know that marriage is an advantage to a doctor, and she is very fond of you." "She is the best of mothers ; but she would never see that we could not all Uve under one roof. And I would never subiect any girl to that. The fact is," he broke out after a gioomy pause my life is wretched. But when I think of her "—here his face changed and his eyes kindled,—" it is all different : there is something to live for. It is maddening that I dare not speak yet. Heaven only knows when I shall be in a position to do so, and in the meantime there she is in her youth and beauty exposed to the attentions of every chance comer. And it cannot go on for *>v^r 1 hate every man who goes to that house ; I feel th"at unless T ani quick, the fated man must come at last, I tell you, Ned. it is the torture of hell." APPLE BLOSSOMS. 57 His cousin advised him to end his suspense at once. "You stand upon a fanciful punctilio, Paul," he said, "and for that you may spoil her life as well as your own. Speak to her and ask her to wait for you. You have a profession and a fair start in it, not to speak of the Gledcsworth contingency, and hope will give you courage to win > ir way. If she hjves you, she will be glad to wait ; and if she oes not, why the sooner you know it the sooner you will get over it and form other ties." " Get over it I " cried Paul, looking up. '« A man does not gel over such a passion as this. Certainly not a man of my paste. Why only to see her is heaven, and to be without her, hell. The Mowbrays never do anything by halves." " Then do not do this by halves," returned Edward cheerily. " Lpy siege to her affections at once, and make up your mind to win her. And if you had not a penny in the world, is it a light thing to offer a heart like yours ? I hear men talk of women, and I hear them speak of their sweethearts and wives, but I never hear men speak as you do. I believe, Paul, that a deep and venous passion is a very rare gift from Heaven. And I believe there is nothing like it in the whole world. Nothing so lifis a man from earth and reveals Heaven to him, nothing so makes him hate and despise his meaner self, nothing " "By Jove," interrupted Paul, with a genial laugh, "the youngster has got the complaint himself I" Edward replied that he might take a worse malady, and re- iterated his advice with regard to decisive measures, and they parted, Edwaid marvelling at Paul's dejection and discontent. He did not know how deeply Paul had yearned for a military life, and what it had cost him to obey his mother's wishes in renouncing it, nor did he know why Paul had taken that little holiday and fled to Portsmouth. It was because the demon had once more entered into Mrs. Annesley. " What a sweet woman dear Mrs. Annesley is I " the curate's wife was saying at the Dorcas meeting on the very afternoon of Paul's flight. " I wonder what keeps her away from us to-day ? " She little dreamt that it was the devil himself. It was now mid-April, and at last there was respite from the bitter sting of the east wind ; every day seemed more lovely than Its fellow ; in warnri still nights, from the copses by the brook, charmed silence and echoing through the dreams of sleepers in Arden Manor. No one there ever referred to their chance visitor of the early spring except Ell§n Gale, who, when Alice paid her ,1:: S8 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. ui arcustomed visits, would sometimes allude to the voice they had hfard singing past the window. " And you were right, miss j you said it was a gentleman's voice," she often repeated. "Yes, Ellen, and the voice of a good man," Alice would reply. ■There is so much in a voice." " Yes, miss ; yours quiets me down my worst days." Alice and Sibyl were in the music-room on one of these golden afternoons, surrounded by books, easels, and other evidences of their daily employments. Sibyl's cat was roiled on the wide cushioned window-seat beneath the open la ice, through which a flood of sunshine poured; the deer-hound lay stretched on a bearskin beneath it, sleeping with one eye, and with the other lazily watching his mistress, who sat listlessly at the piano, im- provising in minor keys. The melancholy of spring was upon Alice, that strange com- pound of unspeakable feelings ; the strenuous life of the natural world, its beauty and its melody, stirred depths in her heart that she was too young to understand ; when some bird-note came with unexpected passion upon the silence, she felt as if her heart were being torn asunder and the old orphaned feeling of her childhood rushed back upon her. The simple interests of her quiet life now failed her, former occupations grew stale, there was a hardness and want of she knew not what in the brilliant sunshine and cloudless sky. She wondered if after all it were true that life, to all but the very young, is a grey and joyless thing. Hitherto the future had seemed so full of dim splendour, so pregnant with bright possibility, all of which had unaccountably faded. As she sat at the instrument playing dreamy music, she mused upon that day of transient spring, set like a pearl in a long row of chill sullen days, when she sat busied with her flowers in the oriel and the door opened and Edward Annesley appeared. What a bright world it was into which he stepped ! How long it seemed since then ! He had vanished out of their life as quickly as he had entered it ; no one ever mentioned him now. Perhaps he would never come again.. The thought struck chill to Alice's heart, the colour faded fiom her face, while the music died away beneath her nerveless fingers. After a brief pause she be^^an to play again, and sang with Sibyl the following duet : "The Coming." " i lic UUI5ICS icii a trc—iDie, Their tips with ciimson glowed, When they hastened to asse'mble In troops to line his road ; S9 APPLE BLOSSOMS, •iTie daisies fall • tremble And bow beneath his feet A§ they would fain dissemble Their joy bis eyes to meet ; " I'he roses hang to listen From the briar across the way, Where the r^r minR; dews still glisten, /or thr i r»t wo\h he shall say ; "And the ' ttic breezt bringing Song > nd < nent anr feathered seed, Are glad k>\' ,ft his '^.iging Across thi urr.'' jiead. ^'' " He cannot heed the daisies, The roses or the breeze ; He is here— among the mazes Of the orchard's friendly trecf." They sang the first four verses to an even-flowing melody in a major key, but the last to a more powerful measure, accompanied by mmor chords which resolved themselves into exultant maior harmonies to burden the phrase "he is here," which was taken up alternately by the two voices and repeated by them in different musical intervals m the manner of a fugue, so that the words "he IS here flew hither and thither, and chased each other above the harmony m a rapture that seemed as if it would never end, until ha^rmoiier^ rounded off the song in a joyous melody with major Scarcely had they made a silence, through which the song of a blackbird pulsed dehciou'Jy from the orchard hard by, when they were startled by the sound of a man's voice crying, " Thank vou » from beneath the window. ^ ' Hubert started up with pricked ears, and the two girls went to he open lattice and looked out. Just beneath the window on the broad urf walk .vas a garden-seat lightly shaded by a tall apple-tree, leafless to-day, but ethereally beautiful with crimson iin.H !J! ^'■^^'^f «.0Pen blossoms of shell-like grace, which out- lined the boughs m purest red and white on the pale blue sky bit ing there was Mrs. Rickman, and standing by her side looking upwards with a spray of the blossoms just touching his crisp-curled hair, was Edward Annesley. ^ Alice flushed brightly; Sibyl turned pale. riuoeri »iood beside his mistress, almost as tall as she, with \l^»r °" * • ^ window-sill and wagged his tail with a whine of a?e.S/fi?°n-°"/ i^^"' ^P ^'^ '^"g"^g«' ^^ courteously re- quested the ladies to descend and welcome the new-comer ' 6o THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. . i| I IJ " We were half afraid to speak," the latter said from below. '* Do, please, go on singing." But the singers were effectually silenced, and presently came into the garden, and chairs were fetched and a circle formed be- neath the glancing shadows of the apple-tree. " Mr. Annesley has walked seven miles to see us," Mrs. Rick- man said; "we must make him welcome." "You are welcome, Mr. Annesley," Alice replied, with her exquisite smile and tranquil voice. "Oh ! yes j we are glad to see you," added Sibyl in her light treble; "it is not everyday that people trouble themselves to walk seven miles to see us." Then Edward said that he would not have accepjted his invita- tion to stay with his friends, had they not lived within a walk of Arden, and as soon as he had said it, he knew that he had gone too far, and every one except Mrs. Rickman, who had a happy knack of seeing nothing that was not delightful, sav/ it too. "Then," asked this innocent lady, " why not spend a few days with us ? " This was exactly what he longed to do, but he was too confounded by his bare-faced hint to reply at first. " What a clown she must think me ! " was his inward reflection. Then Mr. Rickman came out with the half-waked air with which he usually regarded the outer world, and having with difficulty detached his mind to some extent from the considera- tion of a human bone, that was probably pre-Adamite, and fixed it on his guest, added his hospitable entreaties to those of Mrs. Rickman. Finally it was decided that Annesley should take up his quarters there and then at the Manor, sending a messenger, with explanations, for his portmanteau. Alice looked down on Hubert, whose graceful head lay on her knee, during this discussion ; but Edward watched her face and thought he saw a pleased look steal over it when the decisiori was finally reached, anu just then she looked up and met his earnest gaze, and all the beauty of the spring rushed into these two young hearts. In the meantime Paul Annesley, who had now recovered from the temporary despondency which drove him away from home, was enjoying that lovely April afternoon with the intensity that he was wont to throw into everything, and was at that very moment driving along the dusty high-road as fast as the Admiral couid trot, in tus direction oi rxtuen. n. set Oi arcusry materials had arrived at the Manor, and he had received instructions to come over as soon as he could find" time, to help the ladies learn shooting ; not that he waited for invitations to that house, but 9, APPLE BLOSSOMS. 6i valid excuse for wasting an hour there was extremely pleasant. He drove into the stable yard on reaching the Manor, and, hear- ing that the family were all in the garden, took his way thither without ceremony, and when he issued from the dark yew walk which opened into the lowest terrace saw a tableau which struck him dumb. At the top of the long and broad turf walk wat; a target ; down against the house stood Alice in the act of drawing a bow ; her hands were being placed in the right position by Edward, whom he had every reason to suppose miles away. Sibyl, leaning upon a i)ow at some distance, was looking on, and teasing Alice for her want of skill. Mr. and Mrs. Rickman were atching the' scene from beneath the apple-tree, and Hubert, sitting very straight on his tail, was gazing intently before him, evidently turning over in his mind whether he ought to permit so great a liberty to be taken with his mistress, Alice drew her bow, the arrow flew singing towards the target, the extreme edge of which it just grazed. Edward uttered a word of applause, which Sibyl joyously echoed ; nobody heard Paul's quick footfall upon the turf walk, except Hubert, who rose and thrust his muzzle into his hand, so that he stood for some moments silently watching the progress of the shooting with a deadly conviction that he was not wanted there. Perhaps Edward looked a little guilty when he saw his cousin, and took some quite needless trouble to explain how he came to be there, but perhaps it was only Paul's fa:icy. "You have'been before mc, Ned," he said, after he had been duly welcomed, and in reply to these laboured explanations ; " I came to start the shooting. You appear to be a past master in the craft." " Oh ! yes. We have a good deal of archery. I believe you are a good shot. Now we can have a regular match." But Paul's pleasure in the pastime was gone, he scarcely knew why. He had a great mind to go away and say he was engaged, but on reflecting that this vengeance would fall only on himself, thought better of it and remained, apparently in the happiest muod. \n ( u I If ■n CHAPTER It ARCHERY. " And what do 'em call this yere sport ? " asked Raysh Squire> who was helping the gardener in an extra spell of work at a little distance from the archers, and, having now finished setting in a row of young plants along a taut string, was pausing to contem- plate his work with an admiring eye. " Zimple it looks ; mis'able zimple." " Archardry, they calls it," replied Jabez, finishing his own line of plants, and unbending his body slowly till he reached his nor- mal height ; " calls it archardry, along o' doing, it nigh a archard. Poor sport, I 'lows ; give me skittles or quoits." " Tis poor sport, Jabez," returned Raysh, impressively, " vur the likes of we. But I hreckon it 's good enough vur gentry. Mis'able dull they be, poor things, to be zure. My wuld ooman, she zes to me, * Lard, how I pities they poor gentlefolk, Raysh. ' she zes ; ' vorced to zet wi' clane hands from morning to night athout zo much as a bit of vittles to hready,'she zes. Terble hard putt to they be to beat out the time athout siling their hands. Archardry 's good enough vur they, Jabez Young. But Ive me agaameof bowlsand a mug of harvest ale." And Raysh majestically bent his long body till he reached his line of string, which he pulled up and posted further on, when he dibbled a second row of holes along its conrse, Jabez, a stout fellow in the prime of life, looking on admiringly till Raysh was half-way down his row, when it oc- curred to him to pull up his own line and post it afresh. " I dunno," Jabez observed, when he had planted half this line, " but what I'd as zoon hae nothen to do mezelf." " Ah, you dunno what's good vor 'ee," returned Raysh, with tolerant contempt ; " you ain't never ben tried that way, Jabez ; your calling is entirely gineral. So zoon as you putts zummat into ground, zummat comes out on't, and you never zets down, zo to zay. Now buryen 's entirely different." " You med zay zo, Raysh Squire," said Jabez j " what you putts into ground bides a powerful long time there, I 'lows." " I lows it do, Jabez, when putt in in a eddicated way. I've ARCHERY. «3 a-knowed they as turns over coffins what ain't more than a score years old. Buryen of mankind, Jabez Young, is a responsive traade ; tamt everybody, mind, what's equal to it. You med take your oath of that. You minds when the Queen zent vor me to Belmmster about that there bigamy job, when Sally White vound out Jim had had two missuses aready ? Passun and me sweared- we married 'em regular. Pretty nigh drove me crazy, that did. There they kept me two martial days athout zo much as a bell to pull or a church to clane. Two martial days I bid about they there streets till I pretty nigh gaped my jaws out o' jint. Ida give vive shiln if I could a brought my church and chuichyard along wi' me, or had ar' a babby to christen, or so much as a hrow of taties to dig. « Missus,' I sez to the ooman what kept the house we bid in, 'wullee let me chop a bit o' vire- ood vor ee ? I be that dull,' I zes. ' Iss, that I ool ! ' she zes. And the moor you chops the better you'll plaze me,' she zes. and she laffed, I 'lows that ooman did laff. Zimmed as though I'd a lost iTiezelf 'Where's Raysh Squire?' I zimmed to zay inzide o mezelf all day long. But zo zoon as I heft that ar chopper 1 zimmed to come right agen. ' I minds who I be now,' sez L 1 be Raysh Squire, clerk and zexton o' Arden perish, aye, that I be, and dedn't I chop that ar ooman's ood I " "I never ben to Belminster ; mis'able big plaace, bent it?" Big enough, but ter'ble dull; nothen to zee but shops aud churches over and over agen. Jim White, he took me along to see the plaace. We went and gaped at the cathedral : powerful big he was— I 'lows you'd stare if you zeen he. Jim, he shown me a girt vield wi' trees in it outside of 'en, and girt houses pretty nigh so big as the Manor yender \\\ hround. ' This here's the Close,' he zes. * But where be the beastes ? ' zes I. ' Beastes? ' a zes, « Goo on wi' ye, ye girt zote,' a zes ; ' there baint no beastes in this yer Close. 'Tis passuns they keeps here, taint beastes ! ' Zure enough, there was passuns gwine in and out o' they housen and a girt high wall ail hround to pen 'em in. Ay, they keeps em there avore they makes em into bishops," he explained, with a mag- nihcent air of wisdom, fully justified in this instance by his eccle- siastical profession, as Jabez reflected while slowly digesting this piece of information. The old-fashioned garden lay on a slope, the vegetable portion being only separated from the flower-borders on either side the o* jT J — .""""■ '^•.■■— ' ««t,vxatv,icu 11, uy cspaucTiruii-irees, now studded with the crimson silk balls of the apple, or veiled with the fragrant snow of the pear, so that the archerv party on the turf were well seen by the labourers on the soil, and vice versd. Jabei ft^ 1 1 \ ■ 3 1 * 1 '^1 1 1 . i ■ I 64 THE REPROACH OF ANNE S LEY. went on planting another row in meditative silence, until an un- usually wild shot from Sibyl sent an arrow over the flower-border through some lines of springing peas, into a potato-bed, when he stopped and called out in loud reproof. '• You med so well hae the pegs in if you be gwine on like that there," he growled, when he had found the arrow and brought it back ; " the haulm's entirely broke, Miss Sibyl, that 'tes." " Never mind, Jabez," she replied soothingly, " it is the nrst tmie ; " and she added something about wire-netting. " Vust time 1 " he grumbled, returning to his cabbages, " A on- believen young vaggot I I never zee such a mayde vur mischief. Miss Alice, she never doos like that." " Ay, Jabez Young, Miss Alice is a vine-growed mayde and well-mannered as ever I zee," returned Raysh, •* but she's powerful high. She doos well enough Zundays and high-days when there's sickness or death, but I 'lows she's most too high vur work-i-days. Give me tother one work-a-days." "Ay, Raysh, you was always zet on she." "I warnt I was. I warnt I be terble zet on that ar mayde, I be. I mmds her no bigger than six penneth o' hapence, a jumping into a grave alongside o' dear wuld Raysh, a hiding from her governess ; well I minds she. I couldn't never abide buoys, but that ar mayde, I was terble zet on she. I warnt I was. She caint do nothun athout Raysh, 'tes Raysh here and Raysh there. She's growed up mis'able pretty. All the young chaps is drawed after she, 'tother one's too high vor em. She aint vur work-a-days, Miss Alice aint. She thinks a powerful dale of me, too, do Miss Alice, she always hev a looked up to me, zame as Miss Sibyl there. Never plays nothen on the organ, athout I likes. Its ' How do that goo, Raysh ? ' or • Baint that slow enough, Raysh ? ' Ay, they thinks a powerful lot of me, they maydes." "Miss Alice is the prettier spoke," said Jabez. "Ah 1 there goos that young vaggot again 1 Hright athirt my beans ! Take em all hround, I 'lows you won't find two better-mannered young ladies than ourn in all the country zide." " I warnt you wunt, Jabez Young, or two what shcv.c more res- pect to they as knows better than theirselves. T n : ;r wouldn't hae no zaace from en when they was little. A power ,:• thought I've a giv' to they maydes' manners, to be zure, a power of thought Mr. Gervase too, as onbelievin a buoy as ever 1 zee and that vore- right he couldn't hardly hold hisself together, and a well-spoken young veilow he's growed up. Our Mr. Horace wont be nothen to he. Passun he spared the hrod and I 'lows he've a spiled the child, as is hwrote in the Bible." And he bent over the fragrant . * ARrHER\. •5 earth again with a slow smile of complacency extending the wrinkles of his face laterally, unconsciously cheered as he worked by the merry call of a cuckoo, the melody of the song-birds, the voices of the archers and the frequent and musical laugh of Sibyl. " There never was such a mayde for laughen 1 " Raysh observed of his favourite, "that open-hearted ! " Alice laughed more rarely, though she, too, could laugh musi- cally. It is odd that only women and children laugh gracefully ; grown men, if they venture beyond a restrained chuckle, bluster out into an absurd crowing falsetto or a deep blatant haw-haw, infectious, mirth provoking, but utterly undignified. Gervase Rickman knew this, and since the loss rf his boy-voice had not laughed aloud, excc^it at public meetinj^ j, when he produced an ironical laugh of practised excellence, which was calcuk^ed to dis- comfit the most brazen-nerved speaker. When he came home that evenSg and heard his sister's pretty laugh wafted across the sunny flowery garden, amid the music of the blackbirds and the cooing of the far-oft' doves, something in it — it may have been the certainty that it was too joyous to last, it may have been the tragic propinquity of deep joy to sorrow — touched his heart with vague pain. For Sibyl was the darling of his heart ; he was proud of her beauty and talents, and cherished for her schemes and visions which he was too wise to give voice to. He too was disma> at the untixpected apparition of the younger Annesley, but he did not realize the full horror of the situation, since he naturally concluded that he had come in Paul's train, and would leave with him before long. He declined to shoot, with the remark that lookers-on see most of the game, and sat beneath the apple-tree with his father, on whom the pleasantness of the scene and the unusual beauty of the day had prevailed over the charms of the pre-Adamite bone for an hour or tw^ and his mother, who had fallen completely into the womanly groove of enjoying life at s "ond-hand. Though they looked upon the same scene, the son and the parents saw each a different picture. It was a pleasant scene in its way. The old-fashioned garden, with its banr'L of deep velvet turf, its fairy troops of tall narcissus drawn up in the borders, their slender green lances firmly poised, their shining flower-faces turned as if in sympathy with their youth and beauty to the young people near them; with the evening stnbeams touching the living snow of pear and cherry blossom :>. the net-work of fruit-trees with a glow as ethereal as that which departing day kindles on Alpine summits ; and with the stern grey ridge of the downs outlined against the sky in the background. The square 'I %\ m V: « THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. massive tower cattlung the warm sunlight on t;,?. iighi. and th^ a pretty betting for ihe group of archers or. the green beneath thp crimson apple^bloom. Such was .he actual ylcfure but Hcave„ onlykfiowswhatGervi ; sawbvs,' 3. , uui nv,avtn Nor could any one guess what visions, hope?^, ambitions in.> restless schemes passed through hi. br.Jy brain a? he sTro?M about wuh a tranquil, thoughtful air. Iv/r Jid anT.J' fuTpec^ fiS Ttn M^ ^ u'S''^ "P°" ?^"^ ' '^^'"■'■^" '^*^^-' ^-^^ flashing fiti.. .. m ..iis dark-bine eyes, the occasional spasms of anguish l.r K^: ' ^""^ S" ^^'■"Sg^^ *^^' ^aged within him, or the deep feehng^h. gave Edward's features a more spiritu;i beauty, o? of Ihe' '' •'?' f ""^^nscious passion that Imrnt on the ai a?s ot the iv'o girls' hearts. A!ke^ had forgotten her recent melancho! • and when she remembered It later, thought it only natural lu'at the Arrival of an unexpected guest and the interest of tht archery should whllibvl^whT""^ ^'°"' ^"^ P"^ ^^^ ^" ---• ^ r!Sed^Sjn!??h ^' ""°'^ introspective and who sometimes rtfjelled against the monotony of their simple life, was conscious of a tranquil expectancy that cast a glamour over everytS and gave the very apple-blossoms a new beauty. ^^^^^^"'"8 the few words which passed between Edward and Paul Annesiey that evening were of such a nature that the former came do.. '^^S"'"^.'^" that something must have disagreed wUh t^e the flii' 'f^r'''°" of Sibyl and succeeded for a time in^sSmng ^J.T ^ ^^?. uncomfortable passion, when a trivial incident made the smouldering fire blaze up with redoubled fury Alice, wearing some narcissus in her dress, was bendine o pick up her glove, when she dropped a flower Without perSng U Edward who was just behind her, stooped as she paLed on and with a rapid dexterity which must h ,v. baffled any ?n hi ^'ott'^o^.r • 7^ j^^^°"^r' T^"' "P "^'^^^'^ and hid" t m his coat, occupied apparently all the time ir, -- ai.ging a bow Only Paul ., w the flower episode; . and feU ai^ turned pale, : , nptom of mental periu ■■ . wh^^h di-' not escape Gervus. .uckman, who pondfered u.c ir ^°^ hiiS'Jrn™ II?/^' ^^ these jealous feelings, P. il could not tear lumself from the scene which constantly reuu.v< i ,13 sufferings, ARCHERY. «r but lingered till the twilight, when it was still so warm that Gervase's violin was brought out and part-songs were sung, till a nightingale began its golden gurgle hard by and charmed them all into silence. Perhaps it was something in Sibyl's face, upturned with a rapt look towards the ruddy mass of apple-bloom, as she listened to the splendid song, which enlightened her brother, and so wrought upon him that he drew his bow fiercely across the strings of the violin, and, using a minor key, played with such pathos that it seemed as if he were touching the sensitive chords of his own heart and thus wrought upon those of his listeners. He knew now why Sibyl was so deeply interested in military things and had of late made such martial poems, why she had enquired specially into the functions of artillery and the degree of peril to which artillery officers are exposed when in action, and he saw through the innocent artifice which assigned reasons for this sudden interest and made her avoid the most casual reference to one particular artillery soldier. Then he thought of Edward's evident admira- tion for Sibyl, and the attentions he had paid her, and resolved that Edward should marry her, a consummation that, as he thought, his strong will and subtle brain could certainly bring about. There was nothing on earth so dear to him as Sibyl's happiness, he imagined, scarcely even his own ; and his melodies grew wilder and more heart-piercing, as he thought these things. " I never remember such weather for April," Sibyl said later, feeling vaguely that a day so exceptional could not be repeated. "There has been no such April since you were born," her father replied. ** Too good to last.'' Yet it lasted through the three idyllic days that Edward Annesley spent at Arden, : ( ii\ f-« ■I i CHAPTER III. SUNSET ON ARDEN DOWN. Footsteps were so rare on the lonely road which led past the "Traveller's Rest," that it was scarcely possible ."or any to pass unheard by at least one of the inmates of that solitary dwelling. Ellen Gale had listened for them as a break in life's monotony when m health and actively employed, and now, in the long solitary silences of her fading life, they had become the leading events of day and night, and much practice had taught her to discnmmate them with such nicety that she could tell from their peculiar ring on the hard road whether they were those of youth or age, man or woman, gentle or simple. Sometimes on a Sunday afternoon there would be a double footfall, light, yet lingering, and she knew that sweethearts were passing, and wondered what . the end of their wooing might be. And then at times some memory stabbed her to the heart, and she turned her face to the wall "Quanti dolci pensier, quanto disio Meno costoro " cried Dante, his pity mingled with something akin to envy, when he met the lovers of Rimini, united for ever in the terrible tempestuous hell, whither so many sweet thoughts had brought them. ® Sitting at the window one bright April evening, Ellen heard the heavy, dragging steps of a labouring man whose youth was worn out of him, and she knew by their ring that they were those of Daniel Pink, the shepherd. "You goo on, Eln," cried her father, sceptically, when she told him who was coming, " you caint tell by the sound." •* I warnt she can," corrected Mam Gale, Jacob's mother, who was moving about before the hearth-fire, busy with ironina "terble keen of hearing i«e be, to be zure." Ellen smiled with innocent tri^imph when she perceived the weather-beaten form of the shepherd turn in at the wicket and clank with a heavy angular gait over the large flints with which the court was pitched, followed by his shaggy dog. SUNSET ON ARDEN DOWN 6q "Ay, here ee be, zurely, Jacob," said Mam Gale, lookine up from her ironing with a slow smile. "Come on in, Dan'l, she added, raising her voice to a shrill pitch. " How be ye ? " "Evening," said the shepherd, stumbling heavily over the flagged floor of the kitchen, and dropping himself on to a settle by the fire, while Jacob Gale, briefly acknowledging his entrance by a sullen nod, and a " Warm 's ev'nen," kept his seat on the opposite side of the fire, and smoked on. " How d'ye zim, Eln ? " asked the shepherd, after some minutes' silence, during which the click of Mam Gale's iron and the song of the kettle on the fire were heard. Ellen replied cheerfully that she was better, and hoped to get out in a day or two ; and she looked yearningly out of the window, where she could see the blue sky and some martins, who were busy building a nest in the thatched eave above with much happy twittering and fuss. " They be allays like that in a decline, when they be took for death," said Mam Gale, lugubriously, " poor things, towards the end they perks up. The many I've zeen goo, shepherd." " When be ye gwine to 'Straylia, Reub ? " asked the shepherd. " Not avore Ellen's took," he replied. "And he baint agwine then, Dan'l," added Mam Gale, sus- pending her ironing. " What call have he to goo vlying in the vaace o' Providence, when's time's come vor'n to goo ? Down- right wicked I calls it." "Zims as though you rned zo well hae a chance to live, Reub," suggested the shepherd, taking the tankard Reuben brought him, and applying his bearded face to it ; after which he paused, smacking his lips and pondering deeply upon the flavour of the draught. " I med so well live," repeated Reuben wistfully. " Everythink's upside down out there," said Mam Gale, con- temptuously; "the minister he zes to me, ee zes, volks walks along head downwards over there, ee zes." "And that's what Willum Black zes, zure enough," echoed Jacob, solemnly, " 's brother went out 'Straylia ; ee zes as how the zun hrises evenings when volks wants to go to bed, and goes down ageo rnornings when 'tis time to get up, out there." "Zo tl' y zes," added Mam Gale, dubiously. "Voik there's w.'nter bright in the middle o' summer there." " How do the cam srow if they ^ets winter weather in zummer- time ? " asked the shepherd, after profound meditation. Reuben supposed that it grew in the winter, and silent medi- tation f: '.ow«l, broken only by Mam Gale's reiterated assertions zays fell ; i - / 'ii .11 90 l^fi^ ii^^PROACH OF ANNESLEY. to the -^ companiment of the clicking iron that "volk med zo wel be buned comfortable in Arden church lytten, L goHbo^ head downwards out there." > » «"" "uout Then the shepherd, seizing an opportunity for which he had ong been waiting, and diving deep into the recesses of his gar- men s for something which he extracted with difficuity?produfed two large ripe oranges. ^* P'uuucea "My missus zeen em in Medington, and she minded ve» he In^A "".'^u^ propinquity to it were almost as warm as fhe good fellow's heart ; "taint only dreppence, she zaid, and El en Gale med so well hae em whe-^ she can get em " "It was very kind," rejUed Ellen ; and the shepherd nk into a pleased silence, and gazed steadily at the jetty fading 4l and at the oranges on the window-sill before he} besfde tl e Vunch of rntlance''' P^^y^^t^us he had silently placed there on his " Mis'ble zet on vlowers, my missus is," he continued. " « Let the vlowers hide longside of the taaties,' shr ^es, 'vlowers don't ate nothing' Taaties is viower enough vur me " "Flowers don't do here." Ellen saic. "it is too keen The chest°e's."'''' ''' ''^^ ''''" '' "^"' '^"* healthy for sound "Some thihw Dr. Annesley aint wold enough for his work" the shepherd said; "Davis is the man for they.'' ^ rS Y^^ r'"* """^'f '"°"Sh Thready, he never ■,iil be, Dan'l Pink." off? dnir."^.'" T ^'''^^°" ." "^'^^ ' helped dree on us off. I don't hold with new-vang d things. Give lue a dactor what hev zeen all our volks off cor , .uabfe." "Davis hev buried a tidv lot,'' urged the shepherd. "Come to that, he and his vather e ' have helped o many under ground as Anne ley and h atl put together " . -You med truk, Dan'l i k," i. orted Mam Gaic, tossi. her ironed linen aside with scurn, "but you wunt - ! a cleverer dacter than ourn in a week o' Zundays. 'S vather, wold Annesley. was cleverer drunk than any of t'others sober " "You may say that, mother," added Jacob, returning: "you . .7' V "" ■ "'"^ '" ""^ ""=' '-^^y ^"" cirinkea a pint ot best spirits straight off. Zes to me, when he went away, he zes Don t you never marry a 'ooman with a tongue, Jacob Gale, or SUNSET ON ARDEN DOWN. 71 fou med want to wet yourn with sum mat stronger than water.' Didn't zim no drunker than Dan'l there, that a didn't." •' I never yeard the wold chap drinked avore," said Daniel meditatively. ' «i"^ij^**^'^'* knowed not to zay in a general way," added Jacob, wold chap knowed how to carr 's liquor and a didn't drink reg lar. Married the wrong ooman, that's whore 'twas." "She was a vast too good vor 'n," added Mam Gale ; " her family was high and her ways was high, and he knowed he wasn't the biggest man in 's owr louse. That's the way with men. They cain't abide to be zecond best indoors, whatever they med be outdoors." ^ ' Zure enough, a ooman didn't ou^''U to be better than a man, t aint natural like," commented Jacob. " It's agen the Bible : vur why ? Eve yet the apple, and Adam he thought he med so well jine in." " Let he alone vur that when ee zeen 'twas hripe un," com- mented Mam Gale with severity. The shepherd was so struck by Jacob's observation, that he remained silently gazing at the window, through which the clones of an April sunset could be seen diffused over the wide reach of sky, for five full minutes, while his rough-coated dog who d followed him in and lain tranquilly dozing at his feet' rou; y the thoughtful look on his master's face, sat up and watchcu hiir , hoping for a signal to move. While the shepherd gazed thus, he observed a change in Ellen's face, which was just before him— a change like that in the sky when the red flush of sunset spread across it a moment before, a brightening of hue and a sublimation of expression whi h filled him with awe. «' She's a thinking of kingdom com., where she's bound before long," he reflected. But it was a more tangible gladness, though it partook of the deepest charm of that undiscovered land, the joy in what is higher and dearer than self, which thus transfigured Ellen's pretty hectic face j it was the sight of two figures whose out- lines were traced upon the pink flushed sky, two young figures followed by a hound ; they talked as they went, their faces lighted with the changing rose-tints of the tranqi. i evening. " Miss Lingard ! so late I " exclaimed Ellen. "And young Mr. Ann sir / 'Ion;' with her," commented Reu- ben, rising and lookii,^ out "I hreckon she've vound somebody to keep company with at last, added Mam Gale, comprehending the situation at a glance. Personable she be and pleasant spoke as ever I known. But i ri ; i:> n THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY, t'other one ^ vs all the sweethearts. Mcnvolk never knowi what's what." Little did Alice imagine the construction that would be put uron this innocent evening stroll. Reuben's disinclination, or rather that of his friends, to tin- emigration scheme Paul and Alice had arranged together, had been discussed in family con- clave that day, and Edward had again brought forward his sugges- tion that Reuben, if still sound, should enlist in an India-bound regiment and thus get the benefit of a ic^' warm winters. Alice had just started to broach the subject that evening, when Sibyl suddenly suggested that Edward had better follow her, and thus ex|)lain clearly what he intended. " A capital idea," added innocent Mrs. Rickman. " You will soon overtak*.' her if you make haste." He did not wait for a second bidding, and Alice had not crossed the first field before Edward was by her side. He was to leave Arden next morning, and the consciousness of this brought something into his manner that he would not other- wise have suffered. He spoke of his prospects, the earliest date at which he hoped to be promoted, and the chances of remunera- tive employment open to him, and Alice listened with a courteous attention, beneath which he hoped rather than saw something warmer. He referred to the Swiss tour projected by the Rick- mans for the autumn, and to his own intention, favoured by Mrs. Rickman, of making the same tour at the same time, and they both agreed that, to make the excursion perfect, Paul, whose mother was to be of the party, should manage to be with them. Nothing more of a personal nature was said, but they each felt that this evening walk made a change in their lives, putting a barrier between all the days which went before and all that were to follow after. They strolled slowly along in the delicious air, pausing to see the purple hills dark against the translucent western sky, the colouring of which spread upwards, first gold, then primrose and pale green edged with violet, to clearest blue, just flecked by little floating clouds like cars of gold and pearl ; pausing to look eastward across the plain to the line of grey-blue sea, and to listen to some deeper burst of melody from the woods and sky ; pausing, above all, at the chalk quarry, a mysterious melancholy place, haunted by legends and traditions. Standing, as they did, on the high-road leading past the wide entrance to it, they saw a broad level of white chalk, broken here and there by a milky pool, a small tiled hut anr dark shadow-like spots upon which a slow accretion of mouU. had encouraged a faint green growth, half moss, half grass, and surrounded by an almost SUNSET ON ARDEN DOWN. rs semicircular wall of grey chalk cliff with a narrow dark outline of turf, drawn with sharp accuracy between it and the sky. This cold pale cliff was shaded and veined here and there, where no quarrying had been recently done, by such beginnings of vegetation as clouded the ground, and was broken further by one or two black spots, which were caves. Some ravens flew croaking from their holes m the cliff-face with a grim effect, which the swallows darting about in the sunshine and the larks singina above could not wholly neutralize. Perhaps it was the sense of contrast between themselves and this desolate scene that made them linger in fascinated silence before it, and while they lingered, the light changed, the sinking sunbeams filled the sky with molten gold, and the rampart of cliff turned from ghastly grey to warm yellow ; then it glowed deep orange, and at last it blushed purest rose. "I shall never forget this," Edward said, when they turned and he saw the face of Alice suffused with rose-light against the rose- red cliffs. i A few more steps took them to the inn on the crest of the hill. The shepherd rose and left at their approach, and the new-comers entered the kitchen, which seemed dark after the brightness outside. Mam Gale's wrinkled bronzed face, surrounded by a white-friUed cap tied under her chin, beamed with welcome ; her purple-veined, labour-darkoned hands and arms, which were always visible below the small plaid shawl pinned tightly over her bowed shoulders, ceased to ply the iron, and she came for- wards to hand chairs to the visitors. The dull glow from the hearth emphasized rather than dispersed the gloom of the low smoke-browned kitchen, so that it was scarcely possible to see even the shining crockery on the black oak dresser, the two great china dogs and brass candlesticks on the high chimney-piece and the gaily coloured prints on the walls, and the eye turned with relief to the small window, where the fading light came through the tiny leaded panes and centred itself on the face of Ellen, turned towards the sky as 'f awaiting a benediction, while the men's faces were in shadow. Alice went to the window and kissed Ellen's too brightly tinted face, her own looking more healthy by contrast, and the sight of the two young women, illumined by the last fading rays of light, touched Edward and made a picture that long afterwards he liked to dwell upon. He remained silent, while Alice took the chair offered her and plunged at once into the subject of Reuben's enlistment, a proposal received at first with stupefied dismay. Mam Jale dropped thunderstruck upon a chair, regardless of l^r f 74 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. the pile of freshly ironed caps she crushed beneath her «n.,r ^::l^^:'^'^^^^^'i;^^ -d when Sgn'Sn at?as the Comra;.dn!^; st Ou Sen S V""^ ^"^'* ^^^" SSfe^"'!^' ^°k'" ^' '° ^^^ ">i shThad heard ° espec." Ellen s"X un"? ' TK ',^' '^•'■? °^"^' ' ™ ""^d °« °f mv V ro.e'S.e^L™wTed?C^P::,rS,rci'"^ i»r^'.T'^' ^^ "■' we .„„s. no. take up .Kc^^Js ttae " '' ^'^^■'""' ^''^''' SS- ^^^JP^ ^ c'c-uldTale" if'Z Jw''e:.SSet'L^:,e«°ii5.^,n-„d-e^- SUNSET OM ARDEN DOWN. 7$ spectres. A figure springing up behind a heap of stones by the road made the Admiral shy violently, and though it proved to be only that of a loitering child, Thomas, the groom, trembled all over and was bathed in a cold perspiration, for he knew that ghosts haunted the pit. As for his master, he punished the Admiral's mistake with such severity that the horse tore do»vn the hill like a whirlwind, jerking the light dog-cart from side to side, and obliging the frightened Thomas to cling on with his hands, while the white-heat ot passion kept his master firm, so firm that he was able to turn his head aside and gaze steadily across the dewy hedge-rows at the two figures walking throu-^h the fields to the Manor, uutii the bend of the road hid them from his sight./ ill n.i -\i\ M'H m M tii « ! \: i» 1? If it CHAPTER IV. MESSRS. WHEWELL AND RICKMAN. The Streets of Medington were all alive one siinnv «««*«„ Tsrip ZZ:"\tl '" '"' ■"arkefsquarplaTg^Sf lor sneep and pig, ; shopkeepers were turning their warps nut of d"c oX"y "' """^^"^ ^^^"^ °" '"^^ pavfmentsZthe gre^ discomfort of passengers; carts-laden with wicker baskets whence issued mournful cackles and quacks of remons^ranS from victims unconscious of their doom^nd all sorts^? coZrv produce, including stout market-women-dolled sbwly imo S SufTs" Iw^n^'n'"' '°""' ^""^ ventured u^Jfnrstep ml.u f .-^ pondering its advisability; small flocks of meekly protesting yet docile sheep, and disorde ly herds of loud?v rebellious and recalcitrant pigs, were beginning to enter the streets from divergent country roads ; housemaids, givb.Jhebdl pulls an extra Saturday cleaning, loitered over S ^ork and rrcSiS^ihis^r--^^^^--^^-^^^ seizing every opportunity for blundering into fafse poSns to an extent that almost deprived Rough fhe dog Treason in fh^ passionate indignation it aroused in\is shaggy bre^r dJi^I laid his crook in this direction and that, and fpread on his arms and grunted to his four-footed lieutenant, and was so LTrossTd in taking his charges safely past the vehicles and Li!f ^ through which thev were eager to dart thit Ifil h ^ ''°°''' distance past he forgot to lo^as^utl'^'^AuTAnn^s^-: Zr' ^ see If cherry-cheeked Martha, his daughter, was on' the look: out. Then he threw the blinch of flowers he had carried in ?nr ^.^J''\r^ ^'Vi!'' '^' ^^"Sht it just in time S prevent U !ni InV^'i'"" °^^"': '^^''''' ^ho opened the door bEd h« and to her dire confusion came out J th.t ^J. ^ "^» ""rsaTi'l'^n H^'r"" things to'cK;; brass with, fie said, >vuh a good-tempered smile; and he stepped eh MESSRS. IVHEWELL AND RICK MAN, 71 briskly down the street, his face darkening when he remembered the scene at the " Traveller's Rest " the night before. The shepherd had been thinking of the same scene as he came along, Ke had related the conversation to his wife on his return to his lonely cottage, so that they had remained up beyond their usual hour talking over the dying fire ; Mrs. Pink would for many days declare in the same words her conviction that it was better to die right side uppermost in England than to tempt Providence by journeying to a world in which everything was upside down, and the very Commandments were probably by analogy reversed ; while Daniel would as frequently observe that they raised a "terble lot of ship" out there, that he had once known a steady youth who enlisted when crossed in love, and that Ellen might possibly see the harvest carried home. After the last saying he would generally be silent for some time, wondermg to what unknown land Ellen would journey then. A great part of Daniel Pink's time was spent in wondering; the few events of his own and other lives, however deeply pondered upon, were soon exhausted, and then there weie long lonely hours in sunshine and storm, on the wide windy downs, under the shelter of a bent thorn or a wind-bowed hedge, in the silent nights when great flocks of stars passed in orderly procession over the vast black chasms of space above him, or the hurtling storm swept round him— long empty hours that had to be filled with thoughts and imaginings of some voiceless kind. And sometimes the musings of simple shepherds are grander, and their unspoken sense of the mystery and beauty which enfolds their obscure lives is deeper, than we imagine. Gervase Rickman on his way to his ofiice through the market, nodded condescendingly to the well-known vireather-beaten figure standmg annng the pens. If he thought of him at all, it was as a slightly superior animal. Who expects to find a poet or a prophet beneath a smock frock or fustian jacket ? Gervase hurried along to his office, which stood just off the market-square, full of thoughts, for the most part common-place, even sordid, principally concerning the business affairs of half the county. He was later than he intended to be, and found the day's work in full swing when he stepped into the outer office, whose occupants suddenly became very diligent on his entrance. He took in every detail as he passed swiftly through, and sprang up the stairs to his own private room, followed by the white-headed ." '■• ••••■: •"■- vu-jiii^icmiui 3u; vuiii,, anu, uy Virtue oi nis service, master, of the firm of Whewell and Rickman since before Oervase was born. M 7^ THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. NHIi croTsed the Hi^^^h^:^ bow-wmdow, giving upon a street which nf hn?h f? ^^ f^'^^1 ^} "Sht angles, and commanding a view ™s window h'^'h"?^ ''^'^^"^ market-place at their junction. U wasZlcTlv H^ 'T. '^"^^ "'""^ '° ^"^y^^«' offices because n f m^H ^^ t^^\ ^l^ '^' transparent panes were obscured only he rrm''thon H ^^' ^^ ^f'^ ^^•"^' '^^"^P^^^nt to those within rS^rlA^y. u^ °P -"^"^ ^'P'" '^'*'^°"*- Rickman's desk was so fh^f i ^.h'le^i"f g/t it he could, if so minded, observe all No th^ IT""^ 'V^^ ?f"^ °^ *°^" "f^ ^>^"^^th this window. Not that he enjoyed such leisure as to need window-gazing to fill I aS'y XTn ^^^TSl^ '°"' " ''^^ ^ow-windowed roo'm than nn? c^nf "^"^"^ ^^ ^f "^ ^ ^'"'^ ^^^^ °" ^^is bustling market-day, and still more vexed at the cause of his delay, which was a woman. He hastened to look at the letters befor^e him while his roving glance swept the street as he listened to the old c erk's communications. ^ "he^n„M"n'f ^' """t^^^ u"^ ^''' "'"'^ P"* ''"t'" the latter said ; he could not wait, as he was starting on his country rounds He wrote this note." The note was brief. ^ " r must luive that money, no matter at what interest," it ran "Coulc' T toldV-P. a":-" ''" GIedes.vorth prospects ? Call befori' "o"' leave «ti! rjI^^ ^?u'^ ^^1'°"^' .'^''y '''^" y°" "^''^ ^'th rich and idle men ?" Rickman thought to himself. his"Jo^rt* TnH "Ik' ""^^'''-i' ^^ '^'^' ^"^ ^^^^ °'^ ^'^^k left him to his work, and there was silence m the rocm, broken only by the rapid course of the lawyer's pen. \.J^!aT "^^'r ^1^^^ ^'^^ '^'■^' ^"^ h^ ^^s »°t fl"'te so sure as he had been of he potency of human will, and especially of his nHrH n ^''^ Alice Lingard had given him t^o days before hurid nn^°7' •"'•'''" ^' ^'"^ ^2™""y ^^'^^d her to marry him, to FdlrH A T ' T '"""'"'■"' ''>' '^^ "^^^^^"y of putting a sto^ easv^n hi r^'l' apparent designs, was severe and far less .nnW, than he hac- anticipated- for he was too good an observer not to have known that Alice would never accept his firstoffer; he relied upon time and circumstance, the power of "wdl itdeLrtf wTher" °' ""' '^'"^^^ ^'^^^^^ ^^^' ^^ " My mother," he reflecte'd, while another portion of his arfiv^ Mx^,v. was occupied wuh the subject beneath his pen, ^'i7'the most amiable of human beings, but siie is the most simple and MESSRS. IVHEWELL AND RICK MAN. 79 unobservant. My father has talents, but with regard to all that concerns human life and conduct he is an infant in arms. How on earth Sibyl and I came by our brains, Heaven alone knows ; on the whole we should be thankful that we have any. If that stupid little Sib would but take a fancy to Paul she might catch him at the rebound. And Paul has expectations. Paul saw them together last night and enjoyed it as much as I did. But women are so unreliable, they upset all one's calculations, one never knows what they will do next. As for that good-looking fool " Gervase sighed and paused in his work ; he did not like to admit to himself that he had made too light of him, yet he feared it, and when he thought of Sibyl's secret he burned with hatred for the man who had so deeply touched her heart. He looked out upon the thickening stream of passengers in the street and saw one of whom he made a mental note, and went on writing with the under-current thought that nothing was any good without Alice, and that the very strength of his desire for her love was sufficient warrant for his winning it. "And what a man she might make of me ! " he thought, perhaps with some dim deeply hidden notion of propitiating Providence with the promise of being good if he could but get his coveted toy. While his pen flew over the paper he recalled the beginning of this attachment, now fast developing into a passion. It was Alice's seventeenth birthday, and he was talking to his father about her affairs, when the latter remarked that she had now grown a tall young woman. " And we shall lose her, Gervase," he added. " She will marry early. Besides her good looks, she has what men value more, money." Then Gervase thought how convenient her little fortune would be lo a man in his position, and reflected further that, ambitious as he was, he could not reasonably expect to find a better match. While thus uiusing, he strolled out into the garden and saw Alice, yesterday one of "tne children," an overgrown girl, an encumbrance r*- a toy, sccording to the humour of the moment, gathering flowev^^ ? re;? ibcious of his observation. It was a dif- ferent Alice rh:,t he saw that day ; the child was gone, giving place to a young creatarr) who compelled his homage. He offered her his birthday i 'n'erp'.ulations with deference, his manner had a new reserve' " She shall be my wife,' he said to himself with a beating heart. Then came the chf^ck on Arden Down. This occurred at gipsying excursion by the Manor party, during which he found MH Ill" i im i ::::! 80 TJ/E REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. hlrsut t^vf^ Yl- "," i'"^^ '^''' '' ^'' '«« ^'-^r'y to press hl^. suit, but Edward Annesley's visit forced his hand. thirviewoT?hI.y '•'''' ^"V^P^^^i^g f^"^yand tried to impress inis view of the affair upon hitn. " You are niakine a mistakr " ambhbn Ct "°f ""^ ?^ ^^^^^ ^''^ ^'- ^ "'- - -e„ leTve Imi Yl "' ^""'^^"^ i^'*^' ^^'^'' ^^'^^^^^- Otherwise I must !s my only horS:^' ^°" "" "°^ '"^^ "^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^rden. It nioTi'^^i'^l^^ Standing by a gate on the down, looking over the iSalt^'the M^'^'k'^.T^' "'^^ "^ ^"^^'"g '^'^^ half'veUed in hfi^ .K '''"^ ^'^'^ °^ '^^ ' ^•^"'^"Ps "O'lded in the hedge near them ; the great spring chorus of birds was borne faintly from the h.^f K^\u ""'^ '.*'°^^^ '^'■^'g'^t into Alice's eyes and fascinated a po:L''b:ySrr^ir ''""-• -" "-^ "^-'^ - '^ --"^' And'l wiir»?'"'''"''» I;" '"j* , " ■^O" "^ *e one woman for me, "?,„,, L '"""•I ""^ "'*<''"* '" <''=«P. almost menacins tones Yel inUloT/olSf.. ""' ' ""™ '""' > '^'' -»™- frorK^iit;rv'irwl''t^;;,'-;V:srsis "T'r if; "" '"^'"■' If P^'"f""y; ^^^as on .he verge oSs anlde t hT™ "TJ^^''"/' '^<^ ^"-""oned aU her forces .0 mee miL.itr^'bts'rS'o.t^^oTgf^rSe'i^sr"'^^- gently, when she turned away ,,^K bot'o? cV" I wa caS?^^^^ Then tears came to her relief. She quietly checked them smiled once more, and there was peace between them Aftw linJ' "^' r'f"' '" ^"W""' "'' "■'"'='^= of theiov^ in W manner, and she was gradually reassured. He was also Sreful to draw her observation to the attentions which Edward iSev Weared to pay to Sibyl, ..d to confide .0 her his :^;rova? of Ih'e .hJ"!" E<'»'?«'.»'as winning AUce's heart was bitter to Gervase • that hewaswrnmng Sibyl's, and threate.ning to spoil her lifeTas almost more bitter. He resolved that Sibyl's life should not he ZflL^/S:;±f^^A^^^y -o boot andl„rhfm^ the nro.rsub¥e-uea.me«r..;^ sV.;^'4;rmisZ^ I I MESS US. WHEWELL AND RICK MAN. 8t Besides, he feured to precipitate whatever designs Ann'jslev mitrht have with regard to Alice, by pr.unature interference, and con- tented himself with being at Arden ns much as possible durinji Edwards visit, and making arrangements to keep him apart from Alice during his absence, in which small schemes he w^ eieatlv aided by the transparent simplicity of his mother. Truly this unfortunate young man had more than enough to burden his active brain, and just when it was important, in view ot the approaching county election, to give his mind entirely to political affairs. Women seemed to be made expressly to torment and perplex mankind, as Raysh Squire observed of boys. If Sibyl, whom he loved with an instinctive clinging affection almost as deep as his self love, had been but a mar But then, be reflected, « perhaps we ehould have wanted the same woman. That fatal sex would still have ruined all " He had hitherto said that he would not live withoiit Alice • now he found that he could not. Wealth, success, power and position, things that he had yearned for and purposed to win by the strength of his mtellect and energy, suddenly lost all value m themselves ; without Alice they were nn good "I must and I will have her/' he muttered, dashing his pen fiercely into the ink bottle, at the conclusion of his task? His reflections were disturbed bv the opening of the door • the not very usual sound of a lady's dress rtstlinp over the matting was heard, and Mrs. Annesiey met Gervase's fierce intense gaze with one of her seraphic smiles. In an instant the young lawyer's glance fell, and changed to Its everyday suavity as he rose with a smile, in which surprise and welcome were equally blended, to receive his unexpected visitor. i'v.i-i.cu "You are doubtless surprised, Mr. Rickman," she said, taking the chair he placed tor her, "that I should visit you instead of sending for you as usual, I have a reason "' •' Thrxt is of course," replied Gervase. " You know I am always at your service at any moment." ;' I thought your country clients would scarcely have arrived at this early hour, and I might therefore seize the opportunity of cahmg on you on my way home from morning prayers without difficuE attention at home. My beloved son is, I fear, in sad "Indeed," returned Gervase, with a look of surprised interest. .....^^ „^ =:t...r-u a i--a£.w2 suiiiy uvcF rauls note, " i am sorry for *• Is it possible," continued Mrs. Annesiey, studying his face 83 THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEY. with an astonished air, " that my dfcar boy has not consulted even you upon the subject ?" "My dear Mrs. Annesley," returned Gervase, laughing, "do you suppose that we lawyers discuss our client's affairs even to their nearest friends ? " •"True," she replied, annoyed at herself. "I had forgotten Mr. Rickman for the moment, and was thinking of my young friend, Gervase. It is most probable that you know more of these unfortunate complications than I do, for my child I cannot tell why," she added, applying her handkerchief to her eyes, has not honoured me with his confidence. I feel this. Mr. Kickman, as only a sensitive and devoted woman can." Doubtless, he said, with courteous patience. " Hane the woman why m the world does she come here plaguing me with her feehngs ? " he thought.-" You have reason, thfn, t? Tuppo e that Paul IS in difficuhies of some kind upon ;hich he haV not consulted you ? " he added. • "^'■•Annesley,' she continued witl severe dignity, "has incurred debts of honour, which he doe. not find himself in a position to discharge without serious inconvenience. I need fnfnffi^ *f"/°"' ^'' R'^kman, that my son's income is most tastes. His insufficient for a young man of his birth and msies. his professional success has not as yet been by any means oro- portioned to his talents and ener/y. His youth is'a^.bst hT^ It naturally prejudices those who have every confidence in his skil . My son is proud ; he prefers to make his own way, and no longer accepts an allowance from me, as you are aware I .nH°"'^5" independence, but "-here she dropped her dignity, and suddenly became natural in a burst of real feeling,-" I do think he might come to me in his trouble." "I daresay," Gervase said soothingly, while Mrs. Annesley daintily dried her tears, " that if he is, as you think, hard up he sees h.s way out of the scrape, and does not wish to worry you if he can possibly help himself." / .r u " .fill '!^l'f ■' ■*"'* 7^* hurts me, Gervase," replied Mrs. Annesley, fr H?. v°"' ^l-^"' ^TS"''y- "He might know that I would grudge him nothing. It is hard that a man like Paul should never mdulge in the tastes and amusements natural to his a-^e tlrJj\'^''^l' ^' ^! ""'^^^ ^"°^' '° ^"^"'" ^"y sacrifice "to extricate him. I would rather live in a hovel than see my son unable to meet debts of honour." ^ "We all know what a devoted mother he has." said the monT .V''*"*^ "^ '''^"^'' ^^^'^ ^^^^ yo" ^ish to find him the MESSRS. U' HE WELL AND RICK MAN. 83 "Exactly, dear Gervase; with your accustomed penetration you go straight to the |)oint." "Well, then," said Gervase, glancing unobserved at his watch, why don t you mortgage some of your house-property? Ihat would be better than selling stock just now. How much do.s he want ? " "That I beligve you are in a better position to say than I am." she replied, with a dry little smile. Gervase also smiled, and said that the mortgage should be effected at once, since he knew where to find the money, and in a surprisingly short time he contrived to get the whole of Mrs. Annesley s wishes expressed, and learnt that Paul was to be kept in doubt until the transaction was effected and the money m his mothers hands, when she intended to surprise him ' Excellent young man," thought Mrs. Annesley, as she swept down the stairs and through the outer office, where the busy clerks inspired her with no more fellow-feeling than the sheep in the pens outside. " He has never given his mother a moment's anxiety. I suppose nothing would have induced him to run a horse unless he were quite sure of being able to pay the con- sequences. Quiet and prudent, the son of a mere physician, how different from my brilliant Paul ! The blood of the Mowbrays is not in his veins." She forgot that Paul was not even the son of a physician, since Walter Annesley had been but a country doctor, whose untimely death had not improved his son's prospects. She walked joyously home through the ever-thickening stream ot vans and carts, considering what expenses she could cut down to meet the interest of the mortgage, really f^'-d that a load of care would be lifted from Paul's heart, but anxious that he should acknowledge and admire her sacrifice; few thing; uleased her so much as to be considered a martyr ; she was a u c.man who could not exist without a grievance. She wondered how Heaven came to afflict her with such a son. though she knew very well that she would not have loved him halt so well had be been steadier and less extravagant. Destiny had evidently made a mistake in setting a man of his mould to wield the lancet; perhaps that view had also occurred to Destiny and resulted in the recent removal ot Reginald Annesley from the Gledesworth succession. 6-2 i t'il ) i I; il i ■ on SatiM they V : macuiiiif: was the CHAPTER V. ^ STORM. Full of these thoughts, ^[rs. Annesley entered her house and went though her usual iraii(|uil occupations, all of wl ch, however homely in themselves, were character zed by a certam elegance peculiar to herself. The maids trembled when summorw-d one by one to her presence to be called to account for the various doings and mis- doings of the week, and were equally awed by reproof ur com- mendation, though, being human, they preferred the latter. Certain -Ujjfjty dustings of bric-k-brac by her own hands ocrurred l-ivs, and the subsidiary dustings and cleanings of which ihe crown and summit, were truly awful in their im- ;>eifection. She ai ranged fresh flowers, and terrible fatti of that maid who brought an imperfectly-cleaned vase for their reception, or spilled the water required for them. These vveekly duties were all completed, and Mrs. Annesley, arrayed in fresh laces, was sitting in the drawing-room with some elegant trifle representing neodle-work in her hand, when about one o'clock the Rickmans' phaeton drove up to th( door with Edward Annesley, whom she expected to lunch with her on his way from Arden. Paul had returned from his country round, and was watching the arrival of the phaeton from the window of his consulting-room with an eager intensity strangely disproportioned to the event. The grey mare trotted in her leisurely fashion up to the door, totally ignoring the unusual stimulus of the whip, which Sibyl applied smartly, in the vain hope of infusing some dasn into her paces. Mrs. Rickman occupied the front seat by her daughter's side, and was protesting against her cruelty ; but the grey mare might have been a flying dragon, and these ladies harpies, for all Paul caied; his fiery glance was concentrated on the back seat^ in which were Alice Lingard and his cousin. The latter was on the pavement before the vehicle had stopped. His farewells were soon said, and the phaeton drove off with the nearest approach to dash ever made by the grey mare, i*'. response to an STORAf. 8 J unusually sharp cut of Sibyl's whip. Edward stood on the pave- ment looking for some moments after the vanishing carriage, with an expression that was not lost upon Paul. Then he slowly turned, crosscil the pavement, turning once more in the direction of the carnage, now lost to view, and finally went up the steps and rang the bell. Paul felt that he w 'ill looking in the direction taken by the phaeton, though i aid no longer see him. He had seen what passed between Rd^.ard and Alice at part- ing ; only the lifting of Alice's ga^^ to Edward's when he wished her good-bye, but with a look so luminous that it went like a stab to Pail s heart. These things so wrought upon him, that he seized ust of Galen from a bracket by the wall and dashed it to pieces on the ground. He had scarcely done this, when a patient was announced and condoled with him upon the accident. Paul smiled grimly in response, and proceeded to his business, a small, but delicate operation on the eye, which he effected with a steady and skilful hand. No one in Medington knew what a skilful surgeon he was; even his mother did not credit him with professional excellence. They were already at table when he went in to luncheon : Edward, quite unconscious of the storm he had set raging in his cousin's breast, seemed unusually friendly and pleased to see him. I was afraid I might miss you. after all," he said, rising and grasping his hand in a grip so warm that he did not perceive the coldness with which it was received. " I know what a chance it IS to catch you at luncheon, especially on a market-day." " Not when I have guests," replied Paul, with an extra stateli- ness, which Edward would have been incapable of perceivin'^, even if his mind had been less pre-occupied ; " only the most important cases keep me from home under such circumstances." He never suffers the professional man to obscure the gentle- man," said Mrs. Annesley. "He would not be your son if he did," Edward returned Mrs. Annesley was so light of heart in consequence of her morning exploit, that she chatted away most graciously and gaily, and set Edward on the congenial theme of his visit to Arden, and the virtues of the Rickman family. Paul observed with ever-deepening gloom that he did not mention Alice, he only named Sibyl when speaking of the ladies. After luncheon there was still an h r to waste before Edward's train was due, and he was yet unconscious of anything unusual in I'aul, when the latter asked him to go out in the garden with •fii IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // O ^ ^.; '-f^ ^ ^ 11.25 6" us ^^ MM m m U 116 -•• fi: rfl — I Ui^ niuiQgidpiUt; _Sdences Corporation 33 WIST MAIN STRilT WIBSTIR.N.Y. )4SM (716)072-4503 ,^ n^^