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CoPVRIOHT, 1897, BT OSAKLES SCRIBNER'S SONS TROW OmtCTORY MINTING *»iO BOOkBlKOlNQ CCMP«NT NEW TORK EDITORIAL NOTE T... following talo wa« taken down from Mr. Stoven«on'« dicta, tlon Uy ,.,. .top-daughtor and amanuensis, Mrs. Stron,., at interval* j^.2-21,,, 21..), .24, im and .50). About «. week« before his deat). I bud he story a^ide to take up Weir of Ifernnston. The thirty chapters revi! ,fr r " ''' """'" <'^' '"^* '^"- «^ "'^"> "PP'^'^'ntly un- rev sed) brought the tale within sight of its conclusion, and the in- teaded course of the remainder was known in outline to Mrs. Strong. Kor the benefit of those readers who do not like a story to be left unf>n.shed, the delicate task of supplying the n.issing dmpter a been mtrusted to Mr. QuiUer-Coucb. whose work begins at Cblpte; £S. C.J HCcvSOO i CONTENTS CHAPTKB I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. I.\'. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. A Tat.e or A Lion Kampant, A Talk of a Paih of Scissors, . Major Ciikvenix Co.mes Into the Story Goouelat Goes Olt, .... St. Ives Get.'^ a Hundle of Bank Notes, St. Ives is Shown a House, The Escape, Swanston Cottage, The IIen-hoise, TlIKEB IS Co.MPANV, AND FoL'H NoNE, . TlIH DitOVEltS, TiiE Great North Hoad, .... I Follow a Covered Cart Nearly to Destination, I JIeet Two of My Countrymen, Travels of the Covered Cart, The Adventure of the Attorney's Clerk, The Home-coming of Mr Rowley's Viscount. The Despatch rox, FAGE 1 16 AND Ml 24 36 45 54 G5 73 8i 95 107 119 132 142 150 1G8 177 VI CBAFTXR XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. XXVII. XXVIII. XXIX. XXX. XXXI. XXXII. XXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. CONTENTS PAGE Mr. Romaine Calls Me Names, .... 187 The Devil and All at Amersiiam Tlace, . . 198 After the Storm, 210 I Become the Owner of a Claret coloured Chaise, 221 Character and Acquire.ments of Mr. Kowley,. 231 The Adventure o" the Ki naway Coui'le, . . 241 The Inn-keeper of Kirkby-Lonsdale, . . . 254 I Meet a Cheerful Extravagant, . . . 263 The Cottage at Night, 271 The Sabbath Day, 282 Events of Monday: The Lawyer's Party^ . . 294 Events of Tuesday : The Toils Closing, . . 310 Events of Wednesday; The University of Cramond, 324 Events of Thursday: The Asskmhly Ball, . 337 Events of Friday Morning : The Cutting of the Gordian Knot, 355 " The Incomplete Aeronauts," .... 369 " Captain Colenso," ;;i)0 In Paris— Alain Plays His Last Card, . . 410 I go to Claim Flora, ...... 427 ST. IVES ST. IVES CHAPTER I A TAI.E OF A LION IIAMPANT ,, ^l 7u ';■ ■"'! "°""' "' ^^"^ ^"'^ 'hat I was so unlucky as to fail at last mto the Lands of the enemy. Mv knowl odgeo, the EnglM, language had marked'me out or t oertam emp oyment. Though I eannot conceive a sold er ofus.ng to ,ne„r the risk, yet to be hanged for a spy is a 'l.sg„.tM,g lu,smess ; and I was ■•elievcd io be held a prist oner „ war Into the Castie of Edinburgh, standing n he .nulst of tl,at e ty on the suu,mit „, an° extraordtaa ^ lock, I was cist with several hundred fellow-snflerer, all privates l,ke .nyself, and the more part of them, by rL dent, very Ignorant, phaiu fellows. My Enrfish "vwd had brought me into that scrape, now'helpfd me v ry matenally to bear it. I had a thousand advantage, r was ten called to play the part of an intorpre r,^^^. of orders or complaints, and thus brougl t in reLtiou, omot.mes of mirth, sometimes almost of f riendsh n wUh the omcers ,u charge. A young lieutenant singkd ^ « ' be h,s adversary at chess, a game in which I wl e' tremely proficient, and would reward me for mv Jambit lr:^"Fr'enTr- '"" T" °' *» "atSL^Hot lehhons ot iUench from me. w i le af hm-.l-fn^f i -retimes so obliging ,,,, to l.J.I^'tti^l Z 2 ST. IVES meal. Chcvcnix was liis name. IIo was stiff as a drum- major and sollisli as an Englishman, but a fairly conscien- tious i)uj)il and a fairly upright man. Little did I sup- pose that his ramrod body and frozen face would, in the eml, step in between me and all my dearest wishes ; that ui)on this preeise, regular, icy soldier-man my fortunes should so nearly shipwreck ! I never liked, but yet I trusted him ; and though it may seem but atrille, I found his snulT-box with the bean in it come very welcome. For it is strange how grown men and seasoned soldiers can go back in life ; so that after but a little while in prison, which is after all the next thing to being in the nursery, they grow absorbed in the most pitiful, childish interests, and a sugar biscuit or a pinch of snuff become things to follow after and scheme for ! We made but a poor show of prisoners. The olficers had been all offered their parole, and had taken it. They lived mostly in suburbs of the city, lodging with modest families, and enjoyed their freedom and sui)ported the almost continual evil tidings of the Emperor as best they might. It chanced I Avas the only gentleman among the privates who renuiined. A great part were ignorant Ital- ians, of a regiment that had suffered heavily in Catalonia. The rest were mere diggers of the soil, treaders of grapes or hewers of wood, who had been suddenly and violently preferred to the glorious state of soldiers. We had but the one interest in common : each of us who had any skill with his fingers passed the hours of his captivity in the making of little toys and articles of Paris; and the prison was daily visited at certain hours by a concourse of people of the country, come to exult over our distress, or— it is more tolerant to suppose— their own vicarious triumph. Some moved among us with a decency of shame or sym- pathy. Others were the most offensive personages in the ; / A TALE Of A LION IlAMl'ANT 3 worl,! gapcl ,>t „s as if wo ha,! I,cc>i baboons, songl.t to ova„gol,»o us to thoir rustic, uortl.cu roligio,, „s t!„„gh wo had bocn savagos, or tortarod us with intolligouco of fthl '"'""„"' '•'"'"™- •■°°"' '«" '""' i"'«'fo'- >.s,tors ; for ,t was tho praotioo of almost all to purohase somo spccnon of our ru,lo handiwork. This led, an,„„g I t^.o pr,souors to a stroug spirit of co.ap.titiok. So™ a « js d,s ,„g„,shcd) could placo apou sale little miracle! of dexterity aud t,Uite. Some had a .norc engaging ap- pearauce ; line features were found to do as lell as fine pealed to the scnt.n.ent of pity in our visitors) to he a wi I'ul,: l" ' ''"'r "'"" ^"J">^" -■'■ -'I'aint' c with the language, and were able to recommend tho more i^roeably to purchasers such trifles as they had to so IT, he first of these advantages I could lay „o claim, f„r ,„v Lngers were all thumbs. Some at leiL of the o her I l.os.,esse,I ; and finding much entertainment in our om ">erce, I did not suiter my advantages to rust. have bo,^t that every Frenchman should excel. For the an- n umer: Tf°"""' T'''' "' ''''""'■ ' "»J a par uW me, of address and even of appearance, which I could oadily assume and change on the occasion rising. I never OS an opportunity to flatter either the person "ot n,y vis- ■toi. If It should be a lady, or, if it should be a man the m'ItT °l,'"».™'>""-y "' --• And in case my mp ments should miss their aim, I was always ready to cover mlker r „ "7.' " "'""«'' ' ™' "" k't-'-nded a toy- make,, I made out to be rather a succes.sful merchant ; and ST. IVES fouiul means to pi-ociiro pumv ]iffln ,i.r • 1 urn scarcely drawiuff the i)nrh-.,;f ..p ' which I iirst found my JlflV^T ?"'^'"^ ^^^^'^ asluiraod to sav it hiTt r f . ' ' ""' "'""»»' fortress, uTphcedZ T ," "'"' '''""^ "«""'^"'l pacts „ t ^ 7overia m Z™"''"? f^'™"'""-^ Pe- nally over the tllo o"] T "' "'"""I'^^S"' l^'t »ct. "iliabitauts andat„,>l,f 1 ^'"'"S "™>"' "^ ""> i" mass, not only co v t b r"'r;' "" ' """' '° •"''""l ".e children in'oS;' e : '''■'n,f,;;r-- """ -'eu Juint ffenius h-irl fnn,J ^^"°^'''- -^ ^'""k some mulig- "t l>omt tlie insult of the travestv A„,l T , *;;o .lay. when I .o. the ooarbti h^ 4 L^rf 7 ic^sea than m one particular of our disoinlinp • i\.L w. .4thr;::atda;r:r„2' -""' "- -'--' - " ST. IVES Vemis ; and the mere privilege of beliolding a comeJy woniati IS wortli paying for. Our visitors, upon tlie wliolo were not much to boast of; and yet, sitting in a corner and very mucli asliamed of myself and my absurd appear- iince, I have again and again tasted tlie finest, tlie rarest Hiid the uu.)st ethereal pleasures in a glance of an eye that 1 should never see again— and never wanted to. The flower of tlio hedgerow and the star in Jieaven satisfy and delight us : how much more the look of that exquisite bei ug who was created to bear and rear, to madden and re- joice, mankind ! There was one voung lady in particular, about cigliteen or nineteen, tall, of a gallant carriage, and with a profu- sion of hair in which the sun found threads of gold. As soon as she came in the courtyard (and she was a rather Iro'iucnt visitor) it seemed I was aware of it. She had i'n air (,f angelic candour, yet of a higli spirit ; she stepped like a Diana, every movement was noble and free. Oue day there was a strong east wind ; the banner was strainin signify; but her eyes had met mine, and the fire they had kindled burned inextinguishably in my veins. I loved her ■• and 1 did not fear to hope. Twice 1 had spoken with her ; und in both interviews 1 had been well inspired, J had en- gaged hor sympathies, ^I had found words that she must remember, that would ring in hor ears at uiglit upon her bed. What mattered if I were half shaved and my clothes a caricature ? I was still a man, and I had drawn my im- age on her memory. I was still a man, and, as I trernbled to realise, she was still a woman. Many waters cannot quench love ; and love, which is the law of the world, was on my side. I closed my eyes, and she sprang up on the background of the darkness, more beautiful than in life. "Ah I" thought I, "and you too, my dear, you too must carry away with you a picture, that you are still to behold again and still to embt:ish. In the darkness of night, in the streets by day, still you are to have my voice and face, whispering, making love for me, encroaching on your shy heart. Shy as your heart is, it is lodged there—/ am lodged there ; let the hours do their office— let time con- tinue to draw me ever in more lively, ever in more insidious colours." And then I had a vision of myself, and burst out laughing. A likely thing, indeed, that a beggar-mai. private sol- i: i(| 12 ST. IVES dior, u prisoner in a yellow travesty, was to awake the in- terest of this fair girl ! I would not despair ; but I saw tiie game must be played fine and close. It must be mv policy to hold myself before her, always in a pathetic or pleasing attitude ; never to alarm or startle her ; to keci) my own secret locked in my bosom like a story of disgrace and let hers (if she could be induced to have one), grow at Its own rate ; to move just so fast, and not by a hair's- breadth any faster, than the inclination of her heart 1 was the man, and yet I was passive, tied by the foot in prison. I could not go to her ; I must cast a spell upon lier at each visit, so that she should return to me ; and this was a matter of nice management. I had done it the last time-it seemed impossible she should not come again after our interview ; and for the next I had speedily ripened a tresh plan. A prisoner, if he has one great disability for a lover, has yet one considerable advantage : there is nothing to distract him, and he can spend all his hours ripening his love and preparing its manifestations. I had been then some days upon a piece of carving,-no less than the em- blem of Scotland, the Lion Rampant, l^his I proceeded to finish with what skill I was possessed of; and when at last I could do no more to it (and, you may be sure, was already regretting I had done so much), added on the base the following dedication :— A LA i3ELLE FLORA LE PKISONNIER RECONA^AISANT A. D. St. Y. d. K. I put my heart into the carving of these letters. What was done with so much ardour, it seemed scarce possible that any should behold with indiflFerence -: and the initinl^ would at least suggest to her my noble birth. I thought A TALE OF A LION RAMPANT 13 it better to suggest : I felt that mystery was my stock-in- trade ; tlie contrast betweoi my rank and manners, be- tween my speech and my clothing, and the fact that she could only think of me by a combination of letters, must all tend to increase her interest and engage her heart This done, there was nothing left for me but to wait and to hope. And there is nothing further from my character • in love and in war, I am all for the forward movement ; a.id these days of waiting made my purgatory. It is a fact that I loved her a great deal better at the end of them, for ove comes, like bread, from a perpetual rehandling. And besides, I was fallen into a panic of fear. How, if she came no more, how was I to continue to endure my empty days ? how was I to fall back and find my interest in the major's lessons, the lieutenant's chess, in a twopenny sale in t^ie market, or a halfpenny addition to the prison fare ^ Days went by, and weeks ; I had not the courao-e to cal- culate and to-day I have not the courage to remember ; but at last she was there. At last I saw her approach me m the company of a boy about her own age, and whom I divined at once to be her brother. I rose and bowed in silence. ''This is my brother, Mr. Ronald Gilchrist," said she. ' I have told him of your sufferings. He is so sorry for you ! -^ "It is more than T have the right to ask," I replied • -but among gentlefolk these generous sentiments are nat- ural. It your brother and I were to meet in the field, we should meet like tigers ; but when he sees me here dis- armed and helpless, he forgets his animosity." (At which us I had ventured to expect, this beardless champion CO oured to the ears for pleasure.) - Ah, my dear young ady, I continued, " there are many of your countrymen languishing in my country even as I do here. I can but i 1 14 ST. IVES II! ■■• I i liope there is found some Frejich lady to convoy to each of tliem the priceless consolation of her sympathy. You have given me alms; and more than alms— hope; and while you were absent I was not forgetful. Suifer me to be able to tell myself that I have at least tried to make a return ; and for the prisoner's sake deign to accept this trifle." So saying, I offered her my lion, which she took, looked at in some embarrassment, and then, catching sight of the dedication, broke out with a crv. "Why, how did you know my name ?" she exclaimed. " When names are so appropriate, they should be easily guessed," said I, bowing. " But indeed there was no magic in the matter. A lady called you by name on the day I found your handkerchief, and I was quick to remark and cherish it." "It is very, very beautiful," said she, "and I shall bo always proud of the inscription. Come, Ronald, we must be going." She bowed to me as a lady bows to her equal, und passed on (I could have sworn) with a heightened colour. I was overjoyed : my innocent ruse had succeeded ; she had taken my gift without a hint of payment, and she would scarce sleep in peace till she had made it up to me. No greenhorn in matters of the hciirt, I was besides aware that I had now a resident ambassador at the court of my lady. The lion might be ill chiselled ; it was mine. My hands had made and held it ; my knife— or, to speak more by the mark, my rusty nail— luid traced those letters ; and simple as the words were, they would keep repeating to her that I was grateful and that I found her fair. The boy had looked like a gawky, and blushed at a compliment ; I could see besides that he regarded me with considerable suspicion ; yet ho made so manly a figure of a lad. that I could not withhold from him my sympathy. And as for A TALE OF A LION RAMPANT 16 the impulse that had miide lier bring and introduce him, I could not sufficiently admire it. It seemed to me finer than wit, and more tender than a caress. It said (plain as language), " I do not and 1 cannot know you. ilore is my brother— you cau know him ; this is tlie way to me— follow it/' !;i CHAPTER II A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSORS I WAS Still plunged in these thoughts when the bell was rung that discharged our visitors into the street. Oar lit- tle market was no sooner closed than we were summoned to the distribution and received our rations, which we were then allowed to eat according to fancy in any part of our quarters. I have said the conduct of some of our visitors was un- bearably offensive ; it was possibly more so than they dreamed-as the sight-seers at a menagerie may offend in a thousand ways, and quite without meaning it, the noble and unfortunate animals behind the bars ; and there is no doubt but some of my compatriots were susceptible bevond reason. Some of these old whiskerandos, originally peas- ants, trained since boyhood in victorious armies, and accus- tomed to move among subject and trembling populations, could ill brook their change of circumstance. There was one man of the name of Goguelat, a brute of the first v/nter, who had enjoyed no touch of civilisation beyond the military discipline, and had risen by an extreme heroism of bravery to a grade for which he was otherwise unfitted -that of marechal des logis in the 22nd of the line In so far as a brute can be a good soldier, he was a good sol- dier ; the cross was on his breast, and gallantly earned ; but m all things outside his line of duty the rnau was no other than a brnvling, bruising, ignorant pillar of low pot- 16 A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSORS 17 houses. As a gentleman by birth and a scholar by taste and education, I was the type of all that he least under- stood and most detested ; and the mere view of our visitors would leave him daily in a transport of annoyance, which he would make haste to wreak on the nearest victim, and too often on myself. It was so now. Our rations were scarce served out, and I had just withdrawn mto a corner of the yard, when I perceived him drawing near. He wore an air of hateful mn-th ; a set of young fools, among whom he passed for a wit, followed him with looks of expectation ; and I saw I was about to be the object of some of his insuiferable pleas- antries. He took a place beside me, spread out his rations, drank to me derisively from his measure of prison beer, and began. What he said it would be impossible to print ; but his admirers, who believed their wit to have surpassed him- self, actually rolled among the gravel. For my part, I thought at first 1 slionld have died. I had not dreamed the wretch Avas so observant ; but hate sharpens the ears, and he had coi iited our interviews and actually knew Flora by her name. Gradually my coolness returned to me, accompanied by a volume of living anger that surprised myself. " Are you nearly done ? " I asked. - Because if you are, I am about to say a word or two myself." " Oh, fair play ! " said he. " Turn about ! Tlie Mar- quis of Carabas to the tribune." - Very well," said I. - 1 b^ve to inform you that I am a gentleman. You do not know what that means, hey ? Well, I will tell you. It is a comical sort of animal ; springs from another strange set of creatures they call an- cestors ; and in common with toads and other vfirmin has a thing that he calls feelings. The lion is a gentleman ; he will not touch carrion. I am a gentleman, and I can- 8 I: \ 18 ST. IVES not bear to soil my fingers with such a Inmp of dirt. Sit still, Philippe Goguelat ! sit still and do not say a word, or I shall know you are a coward ; the eyes of our guards are upon us. Here is your health ! " said I, and pledged him in the prison beer. " You have chosen to speak in a certain way of a young child," I continued, 'Mvho might be your daughter, and who was giving alms to me and some others of us mendicants. If the Emperor "—saluting— " if my Emperor could hear you, he would pluck off the cross from your gross body. I cannot do that ; I cannot take aAvay what his Majesty has given ; but one thing I promise you— I promise you, Goguelat, you shall be dead to-night." I had borne so much from him in the past, I believe he thought there was no end to my forbearance, and he was at first amazed. But I have the pleasure to think that some of my expressions had pierced through his thick hide ; and besides, the brute was truly a hero of valour, and loved fighting for itself. Whatever the cause, at least, he had soon pulled himself together, and took the thing (to do him justice) handsomely. " And I promise you, by the devil's horns, that you shall have the chance ! " said he, and pledged me again ; and again I did him scrupulous honour. The news of this defiance spread from prisoner to pris- oner with the speed of wings ; every face was seen to be il- luminated like those of the spectators at a horse-race ; and indeed you must first have tasted the active life of a sol- dier, and then mouldered for a while in the tedium of a jail, in order to understand, perhaps even to excuse, the delight of our companions. Goguelat and I slept in the same squad, which greatly simplified the business ; and a com- mittee of honour was accordingly formed of our shed-mates. They chose for president a sergeant-major in the 4th Dragoons, ,a greybeard of the army, an excellent military A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSOHS 19 subject, iind a good num. lie took tlie most serious view of his functions, visited us botli, and reported our replies to tlie committee. Mine was of a decent firnmess. I told him the young hidy of whom Goguelat had spoken had on several occasions given me alms. 1 reminded liim that, if we were now reduced to iiold out our hands and sell pill- boxes for charity, it was something very new for soldiers of the Empire. We had all seen bandits standing at a corner of a wood truckling for copper halfpence, and after their benefactors were gone spitting out injuries and curses. *'But," said 1, "I trust that none of us will fall so low. As a Frenchman and a soldier, I owe that young child grati- tude, and am bound to protect her character, and to sup- port that of the army. You are my elder and my superior : tell me if I am not right." He was a quiet-mannered old fellow, and patted me with three fnigers on the back. " C'est Men, moii enfant," says he, and returned to his committee. Goguelat was no more accommodating than myself. '' 1 do not like apologies nor those that make them," was his only answer. And there remained nothing but to arrange the details of the meeting. So far as regards place and time, we had no choice ; we must settle the dispute at night, in the dark, after a round had passed by, and in the open middle of the shed under which we slept. Tlie ques- tion of arms was more obscure. We had a good many tools, indeed, which we employed in the manufacture of our toys ; but they were none of them suited for a single com- bat between civilised men, and, being nondescript, it was found extremely hard to equalise the chances of the com- batants. At length a pair of scissors was unscrewed ; and a couple of tough wands being found in a corner of th courtyard, one blade of the scissors was lashed solidly to each with resined twine — the twine coming I know not whence. 20 ST. IVES li.-l but the resin from the green pillars of tlie shed, whioli still sweated from the axe. It was a strange thing to feel in one's hand this weapon, which was no heavier than a rid- ing-rod, and which it was difficult to suppose would prove more dangerous. A general oath was administered and taken, that no one should interfere in the duel nor (sup- pose it to result seriously) betray the name of the survivor. And with that, all being then ready, we composed ourselves to await the moment. The evening fell cloudy ; not a star was to be seen when the first round of the night passed through our shed and wound off along the ramparts ; and as we took our places, we could still hear, over the murmurs of the surrounding city, the sentries challenging its further passage. Leclos, the sergeant-major, set us in our stations, engaged our wands, and left us. To avoid blood-stained clothing, my adversary and I had stripped to the shoes ; and the chill of the night enveloped our bodies like a wet sheet. The man was better at fencing than myself ; he was vastly taller than I, being of a stature almost gigantic, and proportionately strong. In the inky blackness of the shed, it was impos- sible to see his eyes ; and from the suppleness of the wands, I did not like to trust to a parade. I made up my mind accordingly to profit, if I might, by my defect ; and as soon as tne signal should be given, to throw myself down and lunge at the same moment. It was to play my life upon one card : should I not mortally wound him, no de- fence would be left me ; what was yet more appalling, I thus ran the risk of bringing my own face against his scissor with the double force of our assaults, and my face and eyes are not that part of me that I would the most readily expose. " Allez ! " said the sergeant-major. Both lunged in the same moment with an equal fury, A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSORS 21 and but for my mananivre both had certainly been spitted. As it was, he did no more tlian strike my slioulder, while my scissor plunged below the girdle into a mortal par^ ; and that great bulk of a man, falling from his whole height, knocked me immediately senselcos. When I came to myself, I was laid in my own sleeping- place, and could make out in the darki-C!^-: the outline of l)crhaps a dozen heads crowded around me. I sat up. "What is it?" I exclaimed. " Hush ! " said the sergeant-major. " Blessed be (iod, all is well." I felt him clasp my hand, and there were tears in his voice. '' 'Tis but a scratch, my child ; here is papa, who is taking good care of you. Your shoulder is bound up ; we have dressed you in your clothes again, and it will all be well." At this I began to remember. ** And Goguelat ? " I gasped. " He cannot bear to be moved ; he has his bellyful ; 'tis a bad business," said the sergeant-major. The idea of having killed a man with such an instru- ment as half a pair of scissors seemed to turn my stomach. I am sure I might have killed a dozen with a firelock, a sabre, a bayonet, or any accepted weapon, and been visited by no such sickness of remorse. And to this feeling every unusual circumstance of our rencounter, the darkness in which we had fought, our nakedness, even the resin on the twine, appeared to contribute. I ran to my fallen adversary, kneeled by him, and could only sob his name. He bade me compose myself. " You have given me the key of the fields, comrade," said he. " Sans rancnne ! " At this my horror redoubled. Here had we two expa- triated Frenchmen engaged in an ill-regulated combat like the battles of beasts. Here was he, who had been all his life great a ruffian, dying in a foreign land of this igno- 22 ST. IVES be injury, and meeting doatli with something of tlie spirit of a Bayard. I insisted that tlie gnards should be sum- .none.1 and a doctor brought. - It may still be possible to save hini, ' 1 cried. The sergeant-major reminded me of our engagement. If you Inid been wounded," said he, "you must have hiin there tdl the patrol came bv and found you It han pens to be (Jogueiat-and so must he ! Conie, child, time to go to by-by. And as I still resisted, '« Champdivers ! " Jie saui, " this is weakness. Y^ou pain nic." -Ay, off to your beds with you .'"said fioguelat, and named us in a company with one of his jovial gross e])ithets. ° Accordingly the squad lay down in the dark and simu- lated, what they certainly were far from ex])eriencing, s eep. It was not yet late. The city, from Iv below and all around us, sent up a sound of wheels and feet and lively voices. Yet awhile, and the curtain of the cloud was rent across, and in the space of sky between the eaves of the shed and the irregular outline of the ramparts a mu titude of stars apj.eared. Meantime, in the midst of us lay Goguelat, and could not always withhold himself irom groaning. We heard the round far off; heard it draw slowly nearer. Last of all, it turned the corner and moved into our field of vision : two file of men and a corporal with a lantern, which he swung to and fro, so as to cast its light in the recesses of the yards and sheds. "Hullo!" cried the corporal, pausing as he came by Goguelat. '' He stooped with his lantern. All our hearts were fly- ing. J J' What devil's work is this ?" he cried, and with a star- tling voice summoned the guard. li A TALE OF A PAIK OF SCISSORS 23 We were all afoot upon tlio instant ; more lanterns and soldiers crowded in front of the shed ; an officer elbowed his way in. In the midst was the big naked body, soiled with blood. Some one had covered him with his blanket ; but as he lay there in agony, he had partly thrown it off. '* This is murder ! " cried the officer. " You wild beasts, you will hear of this to-morr. •." As Goguelat avus raised and laid upon a stretcher, he cried to us a cheerful and blasphemous farewell. CHAPTER III MAJOR CHEVENIX COMES INTO THE STORY, AND GOGUB- LAT GOES OUT There was never any talk of a recovery, and no time was lost in getting the man's deposition, lie gave but the one account of it : that he had committed suicide because he was sick of seeing so many Englishmen. The doctor vowed it was impossible, the nature and direction of the wound forbidding it. Goguelat replied tliat he was more ingenious than the other thought for, and had propped up the weapon in the ground and fallen on the point— "just like Nebuchadnezzar," he added, winking to the assistants. The doctor, who was a little, spruce, ruddy man of an im- patient temper, pished and pshawed and swore over his patient. " Nothing to be made of him ! " lie cried. " A perfect heathen. If we could only lind the weapon ! " But the weapon had ceased to exist. A little resined twine was perhaps blowing about in the castle gutters ; some bits of broken stick may have trailed in corners ; and behold, in the pleasant air of the morning, a dandy prisoner trim- ming his nails with a pair of scissors ! Finding the wounded man so firm, yon may be sure the authorities did not leave the rest of us in peace. No stone was left unturned. We were had in again and again to be examined, now singly, now in twos and threes. We were threatened with all sorts of impossible severities and tempted with all maimer of improbable rewards. I sup- 24 MAJOR CHEVENIX COMES INTO THE STOKY 2."5 poso I was five times inturroguted, and came off from eueh witli flying colours. I am like old Souvaroff, 1 cannot understand a .s(jldier being taken aback by any question ; he should answer as lie marclies on the fire with an instant briskness and gaiety. I may have been short of bread, gold or grace ; I was never yet found wanting in an an- swer. My comrades, if they were not all so ready, were none of them less staunch ; and I may say here at once that the inquiry came to nothing at the time, and the death of Goguelat remained a mystery of the prison. Such were the veterans of France ! And yet I should be disingenuous if 1 did not own this was a case apart ; in ordinary circumstances, some one might have stumbled or been intimidated into an admission ; and what bound us together with a closeness beyond that of mere comrades was a secret to which we were all committed and a design in which all were equally engaged. No need to inquire'as to its nature : there is only one desire, and only one kind of design, that blooms in prisons. And the fact that our tunnel was near done supported and inspired us. I came off in public, as I have said, witli Hying colours ; the sittings of the court of inquiry died away like a tune that no one listens to ; and yet I was unmasked— I, whom my very adversary defended, as good as confessed, as good as told the nature of the quarrel, and by so doing prei)arod for myself in the future a most anxious, disagreeable ad- venture. It was the third morning after the duel, and (Toguelat was still in life, when the time came round for me to give Major Clieveuix a lesson. I was fond of this occupation ; not that he paid me much— no more, indeed, than eighteenpence a month, the customary figure, being a miser in the grain ; but because I liked his breakfasts and (to some extent) himself. At least, he was a man of edu- cation ; and of the others with whom I had any opportunity 26 ST. IVES I! of speech, those that would not have held a book upside- down would have torn the pages out for pipelights. For I must repeat again that our body of prisoners was excep- tional : there was in Edinburgh Castle none of that educa- tional busyness that distinguished some of the other prisons, so that men entered them unable to read, and left them fit for high employments. Chevenix was handsome, and sur- prisingly young to be a major : six feet in his stockings, well set up, with regular features and very clear grey eyes. It was impossible to pick a fault in him, and yet the sum- total was displeasing. Perhaps he was too clean ; he seemed to bear about with him the smell of soap. Cleanli- ness is good, but I cannot bear a man's nails to seem ja- panned. And certainly he was too self-possessed and cold. There was none of the fire of youth, none of the swiftness of the soldier, in this young officer. His kindness was cold, and cruel cold ; his deliberation exasperating. And per- haps it was from this character, which is very much the opposite of my own, that .even in these days, when he was of service to me, I approached him with suspicion and re- serve. I looked over his exercise in the usual form, and marked six faults. "Il'm. Six," says he, looking at the paper. "Very annoying ! I can never get it right." " Oh, but you make excellent progress ! " I said. I would not discourage him, you understand, but he was congeni- tally unable to learn French. Some fire, I think, is need- ful, and he had quenched his fire in soapsuds. He put the exercise down, leaned his chin upon his hand, and looked at me with clear, severe eyes. "I think we must have a little talk," said he. " I am entirely at your disposition," I replied ; but I quaked, for I knew what subject to expect. MAJOR CHEVENIX COMES INTO THE STORT 27 " You have been some time giving me these lessons," he went on, "and I am tempted to think rather well of yon. I believe yon are a gentleman." " I have that honour, sir," said I. " You have seen me for the same period. I do not know how I strike you ; but perhaps you will be prepared . o be- lieve that I also am a man of lionour," said he. " I require no assurances ; the thing is manifest," and I bowed. ' " Very Avell, then," said he. " What about this Gogue- lat ? " " You heard me yesterday before the court," I began. " I was awakened only " " Oh yes ; I ' heard you yesterday before the court,' no doubt," he interrupted, *' and I remember perfectly that you were 'awakened only.' I could repeat the most of it by rote, indeed. But do you suppose that I believed you for a moment ? " " Neither would you believe me if I were to repeat it here," said I. " I may be wrong — we shall soon see," says he ; "but my impression is that you will not 'repeat it here.' My impression is that you have come into this room, and that you will tell me sometliing before you go out." I shrugged my shoulders. *' Let me explain," he continued. " Your evidence, of course, is nonsense. I put it by, and the court put it by." " My compliments and thanks !" said I. " You must know — that's the short and the long," he proceeded. "All of you in Shed B are bound to know. And I want to ask you where is the common sense of keep- ing up this farce, and maintaining this cock-and-bull story between friends. Come, come, my good fellow, own your- self beaten, and laugh at it yourself." 28 ST. IVES '• Wt-bit in my hand, he left me X should have had that twopenny framed to hang upon 34 ST. IVES the wall, for it was the man's one act of charity in all my knowledge of him. Instead of that, I stood looking at it in my hand and lauglied out bitterly, as I realised his mis- take ; then went to tlie ramparts, and flung it far into the air like blood money. The night was falling ; through an embrasure and across the gardened valley I saw the lamp- lighters hasting along Princes Street with ladder and lamp, and looked on moodily. As I was so standing a hand was laid upon my shoulder, and I turned about. It was Major Chevenix, dressed for the evening, and his neckcloth really admirably folded. I never denied the man could dress. " Ah ! " said he, " I thought it was you, Champdivers. So he's gone ? " I nodded. "Come, come," said he, *'you mufit cheer up. Of course it's very distressing, very painful ,' ndall that. But do you know, it ain't such a bad thing either for you or me ? What with his death and your visit to him I am enti rely rea ssu red . " So I was to owe my life to Goguelat at every point. "1 had rather not discuss it," said I. "Well," said he, "one word more, and I'll agree to bury the subject. What did you fight about ?" " Oh, what do men ever fight about ?" I cried. " A lady ?" said he. I shrugged my shoulders. " Deuce you iid ! " said he. "I should scarce have thought it of him." And at this my ill-humour broke fairly out in words. " He ! " I cried. " He never dared to address her — only to look at her and vomit his vile insults ! She may have given him sixpence : if she did, it may take him to heaven yet!" MAJOR CIIEVENIX COMES INTO THE STOKY 35 At this I became aware of his eyes set upon me with a considering look, and brouglit u]) sharply. " Vv'ell, well," said he. ''Good night to you, Champ- divers. Come to me at breakfust-time to-morrow, and we'll talk of other subjects." I fully admit the man's conduct was not bad : in writing it down so long after the events 1 can even see that it was good. 'TEfTT- -rrTr- I- irimwi CHAPTER IV ST. IVES GETS A BUNDLE OF BANK NOTES I WAS surprised one morning, shortly after, to fiiKl my. self tlie object of marked consideration by a civilian and a stranger. This was a man of the middle age ; ho liad a face of a mulberry colour, round black eyes, comical tufted eyebrows, and a protuberant forehead ; and was dressed in clothes of a Quakerish cut. In spite of his plainness, he li:id that inscrutable air of a man well-to-do in his affairs. I conceived lie had been some while observing me from a distance, for a sparrow sat betwixt us quite unalarmed on the breech of a piece of cannon. So soon as our eyes met, he drew near and addressed me in the French language, which he spoke with a good fluency but an abominable accent. *• 1 have the pleasure of addressing Monsieur le Vicomte Anne de Kiiroual de Saint- Yves ?" said he. " Well." said I, " I do not call myself all that ; but I liave a right to, if I chose. In tlie meanwhile I call myself phiin Champdivers, at your disposal. It was my mother's name, and good to go soldiering with." *' I think not quite," said he ; '* for if I remember i'iglitly, your mother also had the particle. Her name was Florimonde de Champdivers." " Right again ! " said I, *' and I am extremely pleas-d to meet a gentleman so well informed in my quarterings. Is monsieur Born himself ? " This I said with a great air of 86 i ST. IVKS GETS A BUNDLK OF BANK NOTKS 37 assumption, partly to conceul the degree of curiosity with Mlueli my visitor hud itiHpired me, and in pjirt because it (Struck mo na higlily incongruous and comical in my prison giirb and on thc^ Iij)s of a private soldier. lie seemed to think so too, for he laughed. " Xo, sir," lie returned, speaking this time in English ; "I am not ' /yo/v/,' as you cull it, and must content myself with 'fi/inff, of which r am eciuully susceptible with the best of you. lAIy name is Mr. Komaino— Daniel Komaine —a solicitor of London Ci<:y, at your service ; and, wliat will perhai)s interest you rrore, I am here at the requesi f.f your great-uncle, the Count." " What ! " I cried, '^ does M. do Keroual do Saint-Yves remember the existence of such a person as myself, and will he deign to count kinship with a soldier of Napoleon ?'* " You speak English well," observed my visitor. " It has been a second language to me from a child," siiid I. "I had an English nurse ; my father spoke Eng- lish with me ; and I was finished by a countryman of youra and a dear friend of mine, a Mr. Vicary." A strong expression of interest came into the lawyer's face. " What ! " he cried, " you knew poor Vicary ?" "For more than a year," said I; "and shared his hid- ing-place for many months." " And I was his clerk, and have succeeded him in busi- ness," said he. " Excellent man ! It was on the affairs of M. de Keroual that he went to that accursed country, from which he was never destined to return. Do you chance to know his end, sir ? " " I am sorry," said I, " I do. He perished miserably at the hands of a gang of banditti, such as we call chaufeurs. In a word, he was tortured, and died of it. See," I added, kicking off one shoe, for I had no stocking ; " J was no 88 ST. IVKS I'll more tlian a child, and seo how thoy had begun to treat myself." Ho looked at the mark of my old burn with a rertain shrinkiiiff. "Beastly people!"! heard him mutter to himsoir. " The English may say so with a good grace," I observed politely. Such speeches were the < oin in which I paid my way among this credulous race. Ninety per cent, of our vis- itors would have accepted tho remark as natural \n itself and creditable to my powers of judgment, but it appeared my lawyer was more acute. ** You arc not entirely a fool, I perceive," said he. "No," said I ; " not wholly." *• And yet it is well to l)vMvare of the ironical mood," ho continued. " It is a dangerous instrument. Your grcat- nnclo has, I believe, practised it very much, until it is now become a problem what ho means." " And that brings me back to what yon will admit is a most natural inquiry," said I. "To Avhat do I owe tho pleasure of this visit ? how d'u] you recognise me ? and how did you know I was hero ?" Carefully separating his coat skirts, tho lawyer took a seat beside me on tlic edge of the Hags. "It is rather an odd story," says he, "and, with your leave, I'll answer the second question first. It was from a certain resemblance you bear to your cousin, M. le Vi- comte." "I trust, sir, that I resemble him advantageously?" said I. *' I hasten to reassure yon." was the reply : "you do. To my eyes, M. Alain de St.-Y'ves has scarce a pleasing ex- terior. *T.iiu yet, wlicu I kiiCv." you were hctc, and. was actually looking for you — why, the likeness helped. As ST. IVErf OKTH A BUNDLK OF liANK NOTES 89 for how I carno to know your wliereiil)out8, by an odd vnoujrh cIiHTice, it \» ii^Min M. Aluiu wo have to thiuik. I Hlioiild toll you, h(^ lijiH for soino timo iiuidu it Iub liUHinoHs to koop M. deK(;rouiil iufonued of your ciirocr ; with wluit l)ur])osc 1 leave you to judge. When he lirst brought the newsof your— that you were Kerviug Jiuoiui])arte, it Heemed it might bo the death of tiie old gentlenuin, so liot was'liis resontuient. Jiut from one thing to another, nuitters have a little changed. Or 1 should rather say, not a little. We learned you were under orders for the I 'en insula, to fight the English ; then that you had been commissioned for a piece of bravery, and were again reduced to the ranks. And from one thing to another (as I say), M. do Keroual became used to the idea that you were his kinsman and yet served with Buonaparte, and filled instead with wonder that he should have another kinsman who was so remark- ably well informed of events in France. And it now be- came a very disagreeuLlo question, whether the young gen- tleman was not a spy ? In short, sir, in seeking to disserve you, he had accumulated against liimself a load of sus- picions. My visitor now paused, took snuff, and looked at me with an air of benevolence. " Good God, sir ! " says I, " tliis is a curious story." " You will say so before I have done," said he. *' For there have two events followed. The first of tliese was an encounter of 71. de Keroual and M. de Mauseant." " I know the man to my cost," said I : "it was through him I lost my commission." " Do you tell me so ? " he cried. " Why, here is news ! " " 0, I cannot complain ! " said I. " I was in the wrong. I did it with my eyes open. If a man gets a pris- oner to guard and lets him go, tlic least he can expect is to be degraded." 40 ST. IV E8 ! ; «■ 'You will be paid for it/' said he. "You did well for yourself and better for your king." " If I had thought I was injuring my emperor/' said I, " I would have let M. de Mauseant burn in hell ere I had helped him, and be sure of that ! I saw in him only a pri- vate person in a difficulty : I let him go in private charity ; not even to profit myself will I suffer it to be misunder- stood." " Well, well," said the lawyer, " no matter now. This is a foolish warmth — a very misplaced enthusiasm, believe me ! The point of the story is that M. de Mauseant spoke of you with gratitude, and drew your character in such a manner as greatly to affect your uncle's views. Hard upon tlie back of which, in came your humble servant, and laid before him the direct proof of what we had been so long suspecting. There was no dubiety permitted. M. Alain's expensive way of life, his clothes and mistresses, his dicing and racehorses, were all explained : he was in the pay of Buonaparte, a hired spy, and a man that held the strings of what I can only call a convolution of extremely fishy enterprises. To do M. de Keroual justice, he took it in the best way imaginable, destroyed the evidences of the one great-nephew's disgrace — and transferred his interest wliolly to the other." " What am I xo understand by that ? " said I. " I will tell you," says he. " There is a remarkable in- consistency in human nature which gentlemen of my cloth have a great deal of occasion to observe. Selfish persons can live without chick or child, they can live without all mankind except perhaps the barber and the apothecary ; but when it comes to dying, they seem physically unable to die without an heir. You can apply this principle for yourself. Viscount Alain, though he scarce guesses it, ia no longer in the field. Remains, Viscount Anne." ST. IVES GETS A BUNDLE OF BANK NOTES 41 " I see," said I, " you give a very unfavourable impres- sion of my uncle, the Count." "I had not meant it," said he. "He has led a loose life— sadly loose— but he is a man it is impossible to know and not to admire ; his courtesy is exquisite." ''And so you think there is actually a chance for me ?" I asked. ''Understand," said he : "in saying as much as I have done, I travel quite beyond my brief. I have been clothed with no capacity to talk of wills, or heritages, or your cousin. I was sent here to make but the one communica- tion : that M. de Keroual desires to meet his great- nephew." " Well," said I, looking about me on the battlements by which we sat surrounded, " this is a case in which Mahomet must certainly come to the mountain." "Pardon me," said Mr. Romaine, "you know already your uncle is an aged man ; but I have not yet told you that he is quite broken up, and his death shortly looked for. ls"o, no, there is no doubt about it— it is the moun- tain that must come to Mahomet." " From an Englishman, the remark is certainly signifi- cant," said I ; " but you are of course, and by trade, a keeper of men's secrets, and I see you keep that of Cousin Alain, which is not the mark of a truculent patriotism, to say the least." " I am first of all the lawyer of your family !" says he. " That being so," said I, "I can perhaps stretch a point myself. This rock is very liigh, and it is very steep ; a man might come by a devil of a fall from almost any part of it, and yet I believe I have a pair of wings that might carry me just so far as to the bottom. Once at the bottom I am helpless." "And perhaps it is just then tliat I could step in," re- 42 ST. IVK8 I i turned tlie lawyor. ** Siipiioso by some contingoncy, at wliicli 1 imike no guoss, and on which 1 olTor no opin- ion Hut horo I intcrruptod him. " Ono word ero you go further. 1 am under no parole," saiil 1. ** 1 understood ko nnu-h," he replied, " althougli some of you French gentry lind their word sit lightly on them." •* Sir, 1 am not one of those," said I. *' To do you plain justice, I do not think you one," said lie. " Suppose yourself, tlien, set free and at the bottom of the rock," ho continued, " although 1 nuiy not be able to do much, I believe I can do something to help you on your road. In the first place 1 would carry this, Avhether in an inside pocket or my shoe." And he passed me a bundle of bank notes. " No harm in that," said I, at once concealing them. " In the second place," he resumed, " it is a great way from here to where yonr uncle lives— Amersham l*lace, not far from Dunstable ; you have a great part of Britain to get through ; and for the first stages, I must leave you to your own luck and ingenuity. I have no accpuiintance here in Scotland, or at least "(with a grimace) "no dis- honest ones. But farther to the south, about Wakefield, 1 am told there is a gtntlcnnin called Burchell Fenn, who is not so particular a: sonie others, and might be willing to ffive von a cast forward. In fact, sir, I believe it's the man's trade : a piece of knowledge that burns my mouth. But that is what you get by meddling with rogues ; and perhaps the biggest rogue now extant, M. de Saint-Yves, is your cousin, M. Alain." '• If this be a man of my cousin's," I observed, ** I am perhaps better to keep clear of him ? " •* It was through some papers of your cousin's that we came across his trail," replied the lawyer. " But I am in- i ■1 ST. IVES GETS A BUNDLE OF BANK NOTES 43 dined to think, so far as anytliing is safe in sncli a nasty biisincsH, you may apply to the man Fcnn. Von might even, I tiiink, use the Viscount's name ; and the litthi trick of family resemblance might come in. How, for in- stance, if you wore to call yourself his brother ?" " rt might be dono,"said 1. " JJut look here a moment ' You propose to mo a very diHicult game: I have appar- ently a devil of an o[)|)onent in my cousin ; and being a lu-isoner of war, I can scarce be said to hold good cards. For what stakes, then, am I playing ? " ■'Tiiey are very large," said he. - Your great-uncle is mu!,:>nsely rudi— immensely rich. Ifo was wise in time • no smelt the revolution long before ; sold all that he could' and had all that was movable transported to Enghuni through my firm. There are considerable estates in En-- lund ; Amersham Place itself is very fine ; and he has much money, wisely invested. He lives, i.uleed, like a prince. And of what use is it to him ? He has lost all that was worth living for-his family, his country; he has seen his king and queen murdered ; he has seen all these miseries and infamies," pursued the lawyer, with arising inflection and a heightening colour; and then broke sud- den y off,-" In short, sir, he has seen all the advantages of i. at government for which his nephew carries arms, and ho has the misfortune not to like them." " You speak with a bitterness that I suppose I must ex- cuse," said I ; -yet which of us has the more reason to be bitter? Ihis man, my uncle, M. do Keroual, fled. Mv parents, who were less wise perhaps, remained. In the beginning, they were even republicans; to the end, they could not be persuaded to despair of the people. It was a glorious folly, for wliich, as a son, I reverence thorn. First one and then the other perished. If J have any mark of a gentleman, all who taught me died upon the scaffold 44 ST. IVES and my lust school of manners was the prison of the Ab- baye. Do you think you can teach bitterness to a man with a history like mine ? " " I have no wish to try," said he. " And yet there is one point I cannot understand : I cannot understand thsit one of your blood and experience should serve the Corsican. I cannot uno -rstand it : it seems as though everything gen- erous in you must rise against that — domination." " And perhaps," I retorted, *' had your cliildhood passed among wolves, you would have been overjoyed yourself to see the Corsican Shepherd." *' Well, well," replied Mr. Romaine, '* it may be. There are things that do not bear discussion." And with a wave of his hand he disappeared abruptly down a flight of steps and under the shadow of a ponder- ons arch :1 \ CHAPTER V i I ST. IVES IS SHOWN A HOUSE The lawyer was scarce gone before I remembered many omissions , and chief among these, that I had neglected to get Mr. Burcliell Fenn's address. Here was an essential point neglected ; and I ran to the head of the stairs to find myself already too late. The lawyer was beyond my view ; iu the archway that led downward to the castle gate, only tlie red coat and the bright arms of a sentry glittered in the shadow ; and I could but return to my place upon the ram- parts. I am not very sure that I was properly entitled to this corner. But I was a high favourite ; nc' an officer, and scarce a private, in the castle would have turned me back, except upon a thing of moment ; and whenever I desired to be solitary, I was suffered to sit here behind my piece of cannon unmolested. The cliff went down before me almost sheer,. but mantled with a thicket of climbing trees ; from farther down, an outwork raised its turret ; and across the valley I had a view of that long terrace of Trinces Street whicl) serves as a promenade to the fashionable Inhabitants of Edinburgh. A singularity in a military prison, that it should command a view on tJie chief thoroughfare ! It is not necessary that I should trouble you with the train of my reflections, which turned upon the interview I liad just concluded and the hopes that were now openin" before me. AVhat i.s more essential, my eye (even while I 45 46 ST. IVES tliouj,^lit.) kc,)t following tlio niovonuMit of tho i)iis8('"gorfl on Prinoos Street, as they passi-d briskly to uiid fro—met, f^reeted. and bowed to oaeh otIuM--— or entiM'ed and loft the sliops, which are in that (juarter, and, for a town of tho Mritannic- ])rovin("eH. partieuhirly fino. My miiid b(.inu\ CO ST. JVES II before a friend alone ; before my assembled comrades the thing liad to go handscnely. It was then my time to come on the stage ; and 1 hope I took it handaomelv. *' Now, gentlemen/' said I, " if the rope is ready, hero is the criminal ! " The tunnel was cleared, tlic stake driven, the rope ex- tended. As I moved forward to the place, many of my comrades caught me by the hand and wr uig ;fc, nn atten- tion I could well ha\e done witliout, " Keep m eye on Olausel !" I whispered to Lad.>,s; ai.d with that, got down on my elbows and knees, took Ll.c rope in both haids, and worked myself, feet foremost, through the tinsne]. When the earth failed under my feet, I thought ^!:\^; bearr, would have stopped; and a mo- ment after I waa demeaning myself in mid-air like a drunken jumping-jack. I have nevei' been a model of piety, but at this juncture prayers and a cold sweat burst from me simultaneously. The line was knotted at intervals of eighteen inches ; and to the inexpert it may seem as if it should have been even easy to descend. The trouble was, this devil of a piece of rope appeared to be inspired, not with life alone, but with a personal malignity against myself. It turned to the one side, paused for a moment, and then spun me like a toasting-jack to the other ; slipped like an eel from the clasp of my feet ; kept me all the time in the most out- rageous fury of exertion; and dashed me at intervals against the face of the rock. I had no eyes to see with ; and I doubt if there was anything to see but darkness. I must occasionally have caught a gasp of breath, but it was quite unconscious. And the whole forces of my mind were so consumed with losing hold and getting it agrin, that I could scarce have told whether I was going : oi coming dovvn. L'SpJ THE ESCAPE 61 ail Of a sudden I knocked against the cliff witli such a thump as alniost bereft me of my sense ; and, as reason twinkled back, I was amazed to find that I was in a state of rest, that the face of the precipice here inclined out- wards at an angle which relieved me almost wholly of the burthen of my own weight, and that one of my feet was safely planted on a ledge. I drew one of the sweetest breaths in my experience, hugged myself against the rope, and closed my eyes in a kind of ecstasy of relief. It occurred to me next to see how far I was advanced on my unlucky journey, a point on which I had not a shadow of a guess I looked up : there was nothing above me but the blackness o± the night and the fog. I craned timidly forward and looked down. There, upon a floor of darkness, I beheld a certain pattern of hazy lights, some of them aligned as in thoroughfares, others standing apart as in solitary houses ; and before I could well realise it, or had in the least esti- mated my distance, a wave of nausea and vertigo warned me to he back and close my eyes. In this situation I had really but the one wish, and that was something else to think of ! Strange to say, I got it : a veil was torn from my mind, and I saw what a fool I was-what fools we had all been_and that I had no business to be thus dangling between earth and heaven by my arms. The only thino- to have done was to have attached me to a rope and lowered me, and I had never the wit to see it till that moment ' 1 filled my lungs, got a good liold on my rope, and once more launched myself on the descent. As it chanced, the worst of the danger was at an end, and I was so fortunate as to be never again exposed to any violent concussion, boon after I must have passed within a little distance of a bush of wallflower, for the scent of it came over me with that impression of reality which characterises scents in darkness. This made me a second landmark, the ledge f if 62 ST. IVES lu-niK nij (irsf,. I boKiUi acconlingly to computo inti-rvnls of turn : 80 iHuch to tho liMlge. ho inu.^li ngam to tl.o wall- llowor, ao inucl. m,,,-,. below. If I woro not at the bottom of tho rock. I caloulatcd 1 imist, bo noar indood to tiic oiul of tho ropo. and thoro was no doubt that I was not far from tho ond of my own resonroos. I bo^un to bo li|,'ht-h(i entirely exhausted, and, what with tho long straii. and tho sudden relief, my limbs shook under nu^ with more than tho violence of ague, and 1 was glad to clii.«,r to tho rope. But this was no time (o give way. 1 had (by (Jod's sin- gle mercy) got myself alive out of that fortress ; and now 1 had to try to get the others, my comrades. 'Inhere was about a fathom of rope to spare ; I got it by tho end, and searched the whole ground thoroughly for anything to make it fast to. In vain : the ground was broken and stony, but there grew not there so much as a bush of furze. "Now then," thought I to myself, -here begins a new lesson, and I believe it will prove richer than the tirst. I am not strong enough to keep this roi)e extended Jf I do not keep it extended the next man will be dashed against the precipice. There is no reason why he should have my extravagant good luck. 1 see no reason why lio sliould not fall— nor any place for him to fall on but my head." From where I was now standing there was occasionally visible, as tlie fog lightened, a lamp in one of the barrack windows, which gave me a measure of the height he had to fall and the horrid force that he luusL strike me with TFIK BHOAPB 6H WImf, >VHH .y,,f, wor«n. wo had a^n,o,l in ,Io witl.o.H H,VnuI« • :;:t:;;;::;-r;r:;:;;rv;" fP'^ .sain. I ba,„ ,L .o'^mlSli^: 'j; S^ ,t of Ins fall was alrcmly remarked, and tho acntincls at thi' 1 eronnd however, went by, and nothing wa, di«. , 01 course, child s play; and before there 64 ST. IVES lli were tea of us collertcd, it .....oeJ to me tliat, without tho least Hijust.ce to my com.udcd, I miglit proceed to take care of myself. I knew thoir plan : they had a map and an al.nanack, and dos^rncl for Grangemouth, where they were to steal a ship. Suppose them to do so, I )• , ^ '3,1 they were qnalihed to manage it after it .vas stolen. Tiieir whole escape, indeed, was the most haphazanl thing imaginahl. • onythn.a.patienco of captives and the ignorance of pri- vate so.liers wonhl have entertained so mishegotten a device; and though I played the good conn-a.le and worke.l with them upon the tunnel, but for the lawyer's message I should have let them go without me. Well, now they vvoro beyond my help, as they had always been beyond my coun- fl^^iaf' " '^^'""^ '""'^^ ''"^^ °'' ^^^^^« <^'^'^'cn, I stole out of the lit le crowd. It is true I would rather have waited to shake hands with Laclas, but ui the last man who had descended I thought I recognised Clauscl, and since the seen, in the shod my distrust of Clausel was perfect. I believed the man to be capable of any infamy, and event. have since shown that I was right. CHAPTER VII 8WANST0N COTTAGE I HAD two vipws. The first was, naturally, to get clear of Edinbnrgli Custle and tin' town, to say nothing of my fellow-prisoners ; the second to work to the southward so long as it was night, and bo near Swanston Cottage by morning. What I should do there and then, I had no guess, and did not greatly care, being a devotee of a couple of divinities called Ciiance and Circumstance. Prepare, if possible; where it is impossible, work straight forward, and keep your eyes open and your ton-ue oiled. Wit and I good exterior— there is all life in a nutshell. I had at first a rather chequered journey : got involved in gardens, butted into houses, and had once even the mis- fortune *o awake a sleeping family, the father of which, as I snpp menaced me from the window with a blunder- buss. Altogether, though I had been sonic time gone from my companions, I was still at no great distance, when a miserable accident put a period to the escape. Of a sudden the night was divided by a scream. This was followed by the sound of someOiing falling, and that again by the reporr, of a musket from the Castle battlements. It was str .Mge to hear the alarm spread through the citv. In the fortre!ss drums were beat and a bell rung backward. On all hands the watchmen sprang their rattles. Even in that limbo or no-man's-land where I was wandering, lights were made in thf^ houses ; sashes were nung up ; I coulu hear neighbour- 5 65 ^ !| BT. IVES 4 ing families coiivorso from wIthIow to win(lo^v and af length I WHS clifillouL'CMl myself ' * ""^ Whit's that ? " .Tied n big voice. cap, leaning Irom u one-pair window ; an.l as I wi n t oabrea^ofhisho^ s^ver. Mils was not the t ivst time I h-id l...,i f^ i ^ bier «i,„„i,,. i.„iii„g „,.„,„„, „„ „ ,„,.j J „,; t; , 'f ; "r.t7r " ::^rr" ^"^" -^ -" --nit:;;^ ''What liko'8 all this collioshangie ?" said he 1 had never heard of a collieshangie in my days hnt wifl. "Bedamned!" sayshe. "0, sir they will be soon taken," I replied • "it h.. been found in time. Good morning, sir r '' ' ^ ^'' 'le walk late, sir?" he added. "0 surely not," said I, with a langh. " Earlvish if almos ,„,„,„diately through a piece of rtree The e open r^ /„ ''""I " "•""' P"''' "' "'"> '"'"'<'»'» would b Th a kM :/f7'^' '" l'"/°--'» »f "igl't gear, talking witn a kmd of tragic gusto from one to another. Here the r«tle all the >vh.Ie .onnding nearer; but as I was noi I I 8WANST0N COTTAGE 67 I' walking iiiordinatuly (jnick, us I spoke like a gentlornan, and tho lamps wore too cliin to show my dress, I carried it olT once more. One person, indeed, inquired where I was oir to at that hour. I replied vaguely and cheerfully, and as I escaped at one end of this diuigerous pass I could see the watclinum's lan- tern entering by the other. I was now safe on a dark coun- try highway, out of sight of lights and out of the fear of watchmen. Ami yet I had not gone above a hundred yards before a fellow nuidean ugly rush at me from the roadside. I avoided him with a leap, and stood on guard, cuirsing my empty hands, wondering whether I had to do with an otti- cer or a mere footpad, and scarce knowing which to wish. My assailant stood a little ; in tho thick darkness I could see him bob and sidle as though he were feinting at me for an advantageous onfall. Then lie spoke. " My goo' f rien'," says he, and at the first word T pricked my ears, " my goo' frien', will you oblishe me with lil uesh- ary infamation ? AVhish roa' t' Cramoiid ? " I laughed out clear and loud, stepi)ed up to the convivi- alist, took him by the shoulders aiul faced him about, " My good friend," said I, " I believe I know what is beat for you much better than yourself, and may (iod forgive you the fright you have given me ! There, get you gone to Edinburgh ! " And I gave him a shove, which he obeyed with the passive agility of a ball, and disappeared incon- tinently in the darkness down the road by wliich I liad myself come. Once clear of tliis foolish fellow, I went on again up a gradual hill, descended on the other side tlirough the houses of a country village, and came at last to the bottom of the main ascent leading to the Pentlands and my des- tination. J. nixs some "way lip when the fog began to lighten ; a little farther, and I stepped by degrees into a 68 ST. IVES clear starry night, and saw in front of me, and quite dis^ tinct, the summits of the Pentlands, and behind, the val- ley of the Forth and the city of my late captivity buried under a lake of vapour. I liad but one encounter-that of a farm-cart, which I heard, from a great way ahead of me creakmg nearer in tlie night, and wliich passed me about the point of dawn like a thing seen in a dream, with two silent figures in the inside nodding to the horse's steps I presume they were asleep; by the shawl about her head and shoulders, one of them should be a woman. Soon by concurrent steps, the day began to break and the fog to subside and roll away. The east grew luminous and was barred with chilly colours, and the Castle on its rock, and the spires and chimneys of the upper town, took gradual shape, and arose, like islands, out of the recedino- cloud All about me was still and sylvan ; the road mounting and winding, with nowhere a sign of any passenger, the birds chirping, I suppose for warmth, the boughs of the trees knocking together, and the red leaves falling in the wind It was broad day, but still bitter cold and the sun not up' when I came in view of my destination. A sino-le gable and chimney of the cottage peeped over the shoulder of the 1"! ; not far off, and a trifle liigher on the mountain, a tall oh whitewashed farmliouse stood among trees, beside a lulling brook ; beyond were rough hills of pasture. I be- tliought me tliat shepherd folk were early risers, and if I were once seen skulking in that neighbourhood it might prove the ruin of my prospects ; took advantage of a line of hedge, and worked myself up in its shadow till I was come under tlie garden wall of my friends' house The cottage was a little quaint place of many rough-cast gables and grey roofs. It had something the air of a ramblin- in» finitesimal cathedral, the body of it rising in the midst^wo storeys higli, with a steep-pitched roof, and sending out If SWANSTON COTTAGE 69 upon all hands (as it were chapter-houses, chapels, and transepts) one-storeyed and dwarfish projections. To add to this appearance, it was grotesquely decoriitt'd witli crockets and gargoyles, ravislied from some niedia>val church. The place seemed hidden away, being not only concealed in the trees of the garden, but, on the side on which I api)roached it, buried as high as the caves by the rismg of the ground. About the walls of the garden there went a line of well-grown elms and beeches, tlic first entirely bare, the last still pretty well covered with red leaves, and the centre was occupied with a thicket of laurel and holly, in which I could see arches cut and paths winding. I was now within hail of my friends, and not much the better. The house appeared asleep ; yet if I attempted to wake any one, I had no guarantee it might not prove either the aunt with the gold eyeglasses (whom I could only re- member with trembling), or some ass of a servant-maid who should burst out screaming at sight of me. Higher up I could hear and see a shepherd shouting to his dogs and striding on the rough sides of the mountain, and it was clear I must get to cover without loss of time. No doubt the holly thickets would have proved a very suitable retreat, but there was mounted on the wall a sort of sign- board not uncommon in the country of Great Britain, and very damping to the adventurous: "Spring Guns and Man-Traps was the legend that it bore. I have learned since that these advertisements, three times out of four, were in the nature of Quaker guns en a disarmed batterv, but I had not learned it then, and even so, the odds would not have been good enough. For a choice, I would a hun- dred times sooner be returned to Edinburgh Castle and mv corner in the bastion, than to leave my foot in a steel tn:i> or have to digest the contents of an automatic blunderbuf.J. There was but one chance left-thet Ronald or Flora might 70 ST. IVES 5! t' ■ii be the first to come abroad ; and in order to profit by this chance if it occurred, I got me on the cope of the wall in a place where it was screened by the thicli branches of a beech, and sat there waiting. As the day wore on, the sun came very pleasantly oat. I had been awake all night, I had undergone the most vio- lent agitations of mind and body, and it is not so much to be wondered at, as it was exceedingly unwise and fool- hardy, that I should have dropped into a doze. Troni this I awakened to the characteristic sound of digging, looked down, and saw immediately below me the back view of a gar- dener in a stable waistcoat. Now he would appear steadilylm- mersed in his business ; anon, to my more immediate terror, he would straighten his back, stretch his arms, gaze about tlio otherwise deserted garden, and relish a deep pinch of snulf. It was my first thought to drop from the wall upon the other side. A glance sufficed to show me that even the way by which I had come was now cut off, and the field behind me already occupied by a couple of shepherds' assistants and a score or two of sheep. I have named the talismans on which I habitually depend, but here was a conjuncture in which both were wholly useless. The copestone of a wall arrayed with broken bottles is no favourable rostrum and I might be as eloquent as Pitt, and as fascinating as Richelieu, and neither the gardener nor the shepherd lads would care a halfpenny. In short, there was no escape possible from my absurd position : there I must continue to sit until one or other of my neighbours should raise his eyes and give the signal for my capture. The part of the wall on which (for my sins) I was posted could be scarce less than twelve feet high on the inside • the leaves of the beech which made a fashion of sheltering me were already partly fallen : and I was thus not only perilously exposed myself, but enabled to command some SWANSTON COTTAGE 71 part of the garden walks and (under an evergreen arch) the front lawn and windows of the cottage. For long nothing stirred except my friend with the spade ; then I heard the opening of a sash ; and presently after saw Miss Flora ap- pear in a morning wrapper and come strolling hitherward between the borders, pausing and visiting her flowers— her- self as fair. There was a friend; here, immediately beneath nie, an unknown quantity— the gardener : how to commu- nicate with tlie one and not attract the notice of the other? To make a noise was out of the question ; I dared scarce to breathe. I held myself ready to make a gesture as soon as she should look, and she looked in every possible direction but the one. She was interested in the vilest tuft of chick- weed, she gazed at the summit of the mountain, she came even immediately below me and conversed on the most fas- tidious topics with the gardener ; but to the top of that wall she would not dedicate a glance ! At last she began to retrace her steps in the direction of the cottage ; where- upon, becoming quite desperate, I broke off a piece of plaster, took a happy aim, and hit her with it in the nape of the neck. She clapped her hand to the place, turned about, looked on all sides for an explanation, and spying me (as indeed I was parting the branches to make it the more easy), half uttered and half swallowed down again a cry of surprise. The infernal gardener was erect upon the instant. " What's your wull, miss ? " said he. Her readiness amazed me. She had already turned and was gazing in the opposite direction. " There's a child among the artichokes," she said. " The Plagues of Egyp' ! Vll see to them \ " cried the gardener truculently, and with a hurried waddle disap- peared among the evergreens. That moment she turned, she came running towards me, 72 ST. IVES i: .! ;■■; §■ her arms stretcAed out, lier face incarnaained for the one moment with heavenly blushes, the next pale as death. " Monsieur de Saint-Yves ! " she said. "My dear young lady," I said, ''this is the damnedest liberty — I know it ! But what else was I to do ? " " You have escaped ? " said she. "If you call this escape/^ I replied. " But you cannot possibly stop tliere ! " she cried. "I know it," said I. " And where am I to go ?" She struck her hands together. "I have it !" she ex- claimed. "Come down by the beech trunk — you must leave no footprint in the border — quickly, before Robie can get back ! I am the hen-wife here : I keep the key ; you must go into the hen-house — for the moment." I was by her side at once. Both cast a hasty glance at the blank windows of the cottage and so much as was visible of the garden alleys ; it seemed there was none to observe us. She caught me by the sleeve and ran. It was no time for compliments ; hurry breathed upon our necks ; and I rail along with her to tlie next corner of the garden, where a wired court and a board hovel standing in a grove of trees advertised my place of refuge. She thrust me in witliout a word ; the bulk of the fowls were at the same time emitted ; and I found myself the next moment locked in alone with half a dozen sitting hens. In the twilight of the place all fixed their eyes on me severely, and seemed to upbraid me with some crying impropriety. Doubtless the hen has always a puritanic appearance, although (in its own behaviour) I could never observe it to be more partic- ular than its neighbours. But conceive a British hen ! J CHAPTER VIII THE HEN-HOUSE I WAS half an hour at least in the society of these dis- tressing bipeds, and alone with my own reflections and necessities. I was in great pain of my flayed hands, and had nothing to treat them with ; I was hungry and thirsty, and had nothing to eat or to drink ; I was thor- oughly tired, and there was no place for me to sit. To be sure there was the floor, but nothing could be imag- ined less inviting. At the sound of approaching footsteps, my good-humour was restored. The key rattled in the lock, and Master Konald entered, closed the door behind him, and leaned his back to it. • "I say, you know ! " he said, and shook a sullen young head. "I know it's a liberty," said I. " It's infernall;y awkward ; my position is infernally em- barrassing," said he. '* Well," said I, ''and what do you think of mine ? " This seemed to pose him entirely, and lie remained gaz- ing upon me with a convincing air of youth and inno- cence. I could have laughed, but I was not so inhumane. "I am in your hands," said I, with a little gesture. " You must do with me what you think right." " Ah, yes I " he cried : " if I knew ! " " You see/' said I, " it would be different if you had r«= 73 f 74 ST. IVES ceived your commission. Properly speaking, you are not yet a combatant ; I have ceased to bo one ; and I think it arguable that we are just iu the position of one ordinary gentleman to another, where friendship usually comes be- fore the law. Observe, I only say arguable. For God's sake, don't think 1 wish to dictate an opinion. These are the sort of nasty little businesses, inseparable from war, which every gentleman must decide for himself. If I were in your place " " Ay, what would you do, then ? " says he. ''Upon my word, I do not know," said I. " Hesitate, as you are doing, I believe." "I will tell you," he said. "I have a kinsman, and it is what ?ie would think, that I am thinking. It is General Graham of Lynedoch— Sir Thomas Graham. I scarcely know him, but I believe I admire him more than I do God." "I admire him a good deal myself," said I, '' and have good reason to. I have fought with him, been beaten, and run away. Veni, vicfns stim, evasi." " What ! " he cried. " You were at Barossa ? " " There and back, which many could not say," said I. " It was a pretty affair and a hot one, and the Spaniards behaved abominably, us they usually did in a pitched field ; the Marshal Duke of Belluno made a fool of himself, and not for the first time ; and your friend Sir Thomas had the best of it, so far as there was any best. He is a brave and ready officer." " Now, then, you will understand ! " said the boy. '' I wish to please Sir Thomas : what would he do ?" " Well, I can tell you a story," said I, " a true one too, and about this very combat of Chiclana, or Barossa as you call it. I was in the Eighth of the Line ; we lost the eagle of the First Battalion, more betoken, but it cost you THE IIEN-HOUSE 76 dear. Well, we had repulsed more charges than I care to count, when your 87th Ilegiment came on at a foot's pace very slow but very steady ; in front of them a mounted' officer, his hat in his hand, white-haired, and talking very quietly to the battalions. Our Major, Vigo-Roussillon, set spurs to ins horse and galloped out to sahre him, but see- ing him an old man, very handsome, and as composed as if he were in a coffee-house, lost heart and galloped back agu.... Only, yon see, they had been very close together for the moment, and looked each other in the eyes. Soon after the Major was wounded, taken prisoner, and carried into Cadiz. One line day they announced to him the visit of the General, Sir Thomas Graham. ' Well, sir,' said the General, taking him by the hand, ^ I think wo were face to face upon the fieM.' Ir was the white-haired officer ! " " Ah !'-' cried the boy,_his eyes were burning. 'MVell, and here is the point," I continued. '-'Sir Thomas fed the Major from his own table from that day, and served him with six covers." ^^ " Yes, it is a beautiful— a beautiful story," said Ronald. " And yet somehow it is not the same— is it ? " " T admit it freely," said I, The boy stood awhile brooding. " Well, I take my risk of it," he cried. " I believe it's treason to my sovereign— I believe there is an infamous punishment for such a crime —and yet I'm hanged if I can give you up.'' I was as much moved as he. " I could almost beg you to do otherwise," I said. " I was a brute to come to you, a brute and a coward. You are a noble enemy ; you will make a noble soldier." And with rather a happy idea of a compliment for this warlike youth, I stood up straight and gave him the salute. .c^^u"^^ ^""^ * moment confused; his face flushed. Well, well, I must be getting you something to eat, but 76 8T. IVES II •} it will not be for six," he added, with a smile : "only what we can get smuggled out. Tlicre is my aunt in the road, you see," and he locked me in again witli the indignant hens. I always smile when I recall that young fellow ; aniii ? I am afraid "—she gave a pretty break of laughter— "I am afraid they would be daft- like!" ''Well, and am I not daft ? " I asked her. "I do begin to think you are," said she. " There it is, then ! " said I. " I have been long enough a figure of fun. Can you not feel with me that perhaps the bitterest thing in this captivity has been the clothes ? Make me a captive— bind me with chains if you like— but let me be still myself. You do not know what it is to be a walking travesty— among foes," I added, bitterly. " 0, but you are too unjust ! " she cried. " You speak as though any one ever dreamed of laughing at you. But no one did. We were all pained to the heart. Even my aunt —though sometimes I do think she was not quite in good THE HEN-HOUSE 79 taste— you should have seen her and heard her at home ! She took so much in f oresf Every patch in your clothes made us sorry ; it should have been a sister's work." "That is what I never had—a sister," said I. "But since you say that I did not make you laugh " " 0, Mr. St. Ives ! never ! " she exclaimed. "Not for one moment. It was all too sad. To see a leman " ,^nug ? " I sug- " In the clothes of a harlequin, and gested, " To see a gentleman in distress, and nobly supporting it," she said. " And do you not understand, my fair foe," said I, " that even if all were as you say— even if you had thought my travesty were hecoming— I should be only the more anx- ious, for my sake, for my country's sake, and for the sake of your kindness, that you should see him whom you have helped as God meant him to to seen ? that you should have something to remember him by at least more charac- teristic than a misfitting sulphur-yellow suit, and half a week's beard ? " " You think a great deal too much of clothes," she said. " I am not that kind of girl." " And I'm afraid I am that kind of a man," said I. " But do not think of me too harshly for that. I talked Just now of something to remember by. I have many of them myself, of these beautiful reminders, of these keep- sakes, that I cannot be parted from until I lose memory and life. Many of them are great things, many of them are high v ' tues— charity, mercy, faith. But some of them are trivial enough. Miss Flora, do you remember the day that I first saw you, the day of the strong east wind ? Miss Flora, .shall I tell you what you wore ? " We had both risen to our feet, and she had her hand already on *he door to go. Perhaps this attitude embol- IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^A M/.. ^ A. ^.iL. 1.0 I.I 11.25 ■ 50 i^ m^ Z us 2.0 1.8 U 11.6 PhotDgraphic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 # rO^ \ :\ V \ ^q) V M 6^ 4f^ U.i 80 ST. IVES dened me to profit by the last seconds of our interview ; and It certainly rendered her escape the more easy. ''0, you are too romantic!" she said, laughing; and with that my sun was blown out, my enchantress had fled away, and I was again left alone in the twilight with the lady hens. ly I w ; and f ; and id fled fch the CHAPTER IX THREE 13 COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE The rest of the day I slept in the corner of the hen- house upon Flora's shawl. Nor did I awake until a light shone suddenly in my eyes, and starting up with a gasp (for, indeed, at the moment I dreamed I was still swinging from the Castle battlements) I found Ronald bending over me with a lantern. It appeared it was past midnight! that I had slept about sixteen hours, and that Flora had returned her poultry to the shed and I had heard her not I could not but wonder if she had stooped to look at me as 1 slept. The puritan hens now slept irremediably ; and being cheered with the promise of supper I wished them an ironical good-night, and was lighted across the garden and noiselessly admitted to a bedroom on the ground floor of the cottage. There I found soap, water, razors-^, offered me diffidently by my beardless host-and an out- fit of new clothes. To be shaved again without depend- ing on the- barber of the gaol was a source of a delicious, if a childish joy. My hair was sadly too long, but I was none so unwise as to make an attempt on it myself. And in- deed, I thought it did not wholly misbecome me as it was being by nature curly. The clothes were about as good as 1 expected. The waistcoat was of toilenet, a pretty piece the trousers of fine kerseymere, and the coat sat extraor' dinanly well. Altogether, when I beheld this changeling m the glass, I kissed my hand to him. 6 81 82 ST. IVES " My dear fellow/' said I, " have you no scent V " Good God, no ! " cried Ronald. " What do you want with scent ? " " Capital thing on a campaign/' said I. " But I can do without." I Avas now led, with the same precautions against noise, into the little bow-windowed dining-room of the cottage. The shutters were up, the lamp guiltily turned low ; the beautiful Flora greeted me in a whisper ; and when I was set down to table, the pair proceeded to help me with pre- cautions that might have seemed excessive in the Ear of Dionysius. " She sleeps up there,'' observed the boy, pointing to the ceiling ; and the knowledge that I was so imminently near to the resting-place of that gold eyeglass touched even myself with some uneasiness. Our excellent youth had imported from the city a meat pie, and I was glad to find it flanked with a decanter of really admirable wine of Oporto. While I ate, Ronald en- tertained me with the news of the city 'ch had naturally rung all day with our escape : troop .d mounted mes- sengers liad followed each other forth at all hours and in all directions ; but according to the last intelligence no recapt- ure had been made. Opinion in town was very favourable to us, our courage was applauded, and many professed regret that our ultimate chance of escape should be so small. The man who had fallen was one Sombref, a peasant ; he was one who slept in a different part of the Castle ; and I was thus assured that the whole of my former companions had at- tained their liberty, and Shed A was untenanted. From this we wandered insensibly into other topics. It is impossible to exaggerate the pleasure I took to be thus sitting at the same table with Flora, in the clothes of a gentleman, at liberty and in the full possession of my THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE 83 if spirits and resources ; of all of which I had need, because it was necessary that I should support at the same time two opposite characters, and at once play the cavalier and lively soldier for the eyes of Konald, and to the ears of Flora maintain the same profound and sentimental note that I had already sounded. Certainly there are days when all goes well with a man ; when his wit, his diges- tion, his mistress are in a conspiracy to spoil him, and even the weather smiles upon his wishes. I will only say of my- self upon that evening that I surpassed my expectations, and was privileged to delight my hosts. Little by little they forgot their terrors and I my caution ; until at last we were brought back to earth by a catastrophe that might very easily have been foreseen, but was not the less aston- ishing to us when it occurred. I had filled all tlie glasses. " I have a toast to propose,'' I whispered, " or rather three, but all so inextricably in- terwoven tha. they will not bear dividing. I wish first to drink to the health of a brave and therefore a generous en- emy. He found me disarmed, a fugitive and helpless. Like the lion, he disdained so poor a triumph ; and when he might have vindicated an easy valour, he preferred to make a friend. I wish that we should next drink to a fairer and a mor<^ tender foe. She found me in prison ; she cheered me with a priceless sympathy ; what she has done since, I know she has done in mercy, and I only pray — I dare scarce hope — her mercy may prove to have been merciful. And I wish to conjoin with these, for the first and perhaps the last time, the health— and I fear I may already say the memory— of one who has fought, not always without success, against the soldiers of your nation ; but who came here, vanquished already, only to be van- quislied again by the loyal hand of the one, by the unfor- gettable eyes of the other." 84 ST. IVES It is to be feared I may have lent at times a certain resonancy to my voice ; it is to be feared that Ronald, who was none the better for his own hospitality, may ha^ .* set down his glass with something of a clang. Whatever may have been the cause, at least, I had scarce finished my compliment before we were aware of a thump upon the ceiling overhead. It was to be thought some very solid body had descended to the floor from the level (possibly) of a be^:. I have never seen consternation painted in more lively colours than on the faces of my hosts. It was pro- posed to smuggle me forth into the garden, or to conceal my form under a horsehair sofa which stood against the wall. For the first expedient, as was now plain by the ap- preaching footsteps, there was no longer time ; from the second I recoiled with indignation. " My dear creatures," said I, " let us die, but do not let us be ridiculous." The words were still upon my lips when the door opened and my friend of the gold eyeglass appeared, a memorable figure, on the threshold. In one hrnd she bore a bedroom candlestick ; in the other, with the steadiness of a dra- goon, a horse-pistol. She was wound about in shawls which did not wholly conceal the candid fabric of her nightdress, and surmounted by a nightcap of portentous architecture. Thus accoutred, she made her entrance ; laid down the candle and pistol, as no longer called for ; looked about the room with a silence more eloquent tlian oaths ; and then, in a thrilling voice—" To whom have I the pleasure ? " she said, addressing me with a ghost of a bow. " Madam, I am charmed, I am sure," said I. " The story is a little long ; and our meeting, however welcome, was for the moment entirely unexpected by myself. I am sure " but here I found I was quite sure of nothing, and tried again. "I have the honour," I began, and found I had THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE 85 the honour to be only exceedingly confused. With that, I threw myself outright upon her mercy. " Madam, I must be more frank with you," I resumed. " You have already proved your charity and compassion for tlie French pris- oners. I am one of these ; and if my appearance be not too much changed, you may even yet recognise in me that Oddity who had the good fortune more than once to make you smile." Still gazing upon me through her glass, she uttered an uncompromising grunt ; and then, turning to her niece— " Flora," said she, " how comes he here ? " The culprits poured out for a while an antiphony of ex- planations, which died out at last in a miserable silence. " I think at least you might have told your aunt," she snorted. *' Madam, *' I interposed, " they were about to do so. It is my fault if it be not done already. But I made it my prayer that your slumbers might be respected, and this nec- essary formula of my presentation should be delayed until to-morrow in the morning." The old lady regarded me with undissembled incredulity, to which I was able to find no better repartee than a pro- found and I trust graceful reverence. " French prisoners are very well in their place," she said, '' but I cannot see that their place is in my private dining-room." " Madam," said I, '' I hope it may be said without of- fence, but (except the Castle of Edinburgh) I cannot think upon the spot from which I would so readily be absent." At this, to my relief, I thought I could perceive a ves- tige of a smile to steal upon that iron countenance and to be bitten immediately in. "And if it is a fair question, what do they call ye ?" she asked. 86 ST. IVES yonr service, the Vicomte Anne de St. -Yves," "At said I. ** Mosha the Viscount/' said she, " I am afraid you do us plain people a great deal too much honour," " My dear lady," said I, " let us be serious for a moment. What was I to do ? Where was I to go ? And how can you be angry with these benevolent children, who took pity on one so unfortunate as myself ? Your humble ser- vant is no such terrific adventurer that you should come out against him Avith horse-pistols and"— smiling— ''bed- room candlesticks. It is but a young gentleman in ex- treme distress, hunted upon every side, and asking no more than to escape from his pursuers. I know your char- acter, I read it in your face"— the heart trembled in my body as I said these daring words. " There are unhappy English prisoners in France at this day, perhaps at this hour. Perhaps at this hour they kneel as I do ; they take the hand of her who might conceal or assist them ; they press it to their lips as I do " " Here, here ! " cried the old lady, breaking from my solicitations. " Behave yourself before folk ! Saw ever any one the match of that ? And on earth, my dears, what are we to do with him ?" " Pack him off, my dear lady," said I : " pack off the impudent fellow double-quick ! And if it may be, and yonr good heart allows it, help him a little on the way he has to go." " What's this pie ? " she cried stridently. " Where iai this pie from, Flora ? " No answer was vouchsafed by my unfortunate and (I may say) extinct accomplices. "Is that my port?" she pursued. "Hough! Will' somebody give me a glass of my port wine ? " I made haste to serve her. THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE 87 She looked at me over the rim with an extraordinary ex- pression. " I hope ye liked it ?" said she. ** It is even a magnificent wine," said I. "Awell, it was my father laid it down," she said. ** There were few knew more about port wine than my father, God rest him ! " She settled herself in a chair with an alarming air of resolution. " And so there is some par- ticular direction that you wish to go in ? " said she. " 0," said I, following her example, *' I am by no means such a vagrant as you suppose. I have good friends, if I could get to them, for which all I want is to be once clear of Scotland ; and I have money for the road." And I produced my bundle. " English banknotes ? " she said. " That's not very handy for Scotland. It's been some fool of an Englishman that's given you these, I'm thinking. How much is it?" "I declare to heaven I never thought to count !" I ex- claimed. ** But that is soon remedied." And I counted out ten notes of ten pound each, all in the name of Abraham Newlands, and five bills of country bankers for as many guineas. "One hundred and twenty-six pound fi\ . ' cried the old lady. *' And you carry such a sum about you, and have not so much as counted it ! If you are not a thief, yon must allow you are very thief -like." " And yet, madam, the money is legitimately mine," said I. She took one of the bills and held it up. ** Is there any probability, now, that this could be traced ? " she asked. ** None, I should suppose ; and if it were, it would be no matter," said I. " With your usual penetration, you guessed right. An Englishman brought it me. It reached me, through the hands of his English solicitor, from my 88 ST. IVES great-uncle, the Comte de Keroual de Saint- Yves, I be- lieve the richest emigre in London.'* "I can do no more than take your word for it," said slie. ''And I trust, madam, not less,'' said I. " Well," said she, ''at this rate the matter may be feasi- ble. I will cash one of these five-guinea bills, less the exchange, and give you silver and Scots notes to bear you as far as tlie border. Beyond that, Moslia the Viscount, you will have to depend ujion yourself." I could not but express a civil hesitation as to whether the amount would suffice, in my case, for so long a journey. "Ay," said she, " but you havenae heard me out. For if you are not too fine a gentleman to travel with a pair of drovers, I believe I have found the very thing, and the Lord forgive me for a treasonable old wife ! There are a couple stopping up by with the shepherd-man at the farm ; to-morrow they will take the road for England, probably by skriegh of day— and in my opinion you had best be travelling with the stots," said she. " For Heaven's sake do not suppose me to be so effemi- nate a character ! " I cried. " An old soldier of Napoleon is certainly beyond suspicion. But, dear lady, to what end ? and how is the society of these excellent gentlemen supposed to help me ?" "My dear sir," said she, "you do not at all understand your own predicament, and must just leave your matters :u the hands of those who do. I daresay you have never even heard tell of the drove-roads or the drovers ; and lam certainly not going to sit up all night to explain it to you. Suffice it, that it is me who is arranging this affair— tha more shame to me !— and that is the way ye have to go. Ronald," she eontinuud, " away up-by to the sheplierds ; THKEE IS COMPANY, AND FOUli NONE 89 rowst them out of their beds, and imiko it pei-rectly dis- tinct that Sim is not to leave till he has seen me." Konald was notliing loath to escape from his aunt's neiglibourhood, and left the room and tiie cottage with a silent expedition that was more like flight than mere obedience. Meanwhile the old lady turned to her niece. " And I would like to know what we are to do with him the night ! " she cried. "Ronald and I meant to put him in the hen-house/' said the encrimsoned Flora. " And I can tell you he is to go to no such a place," re- plied the aunt. " Ilen-house, indeed ! If a guest he is to be, he shall sleep in no mortal hen-house. Your room is the most fit, I think, if he will consent to occupy it on so great a suddenty. And as for you, Flora, you shall sleep with me." I could not help admiring the prudence and tact of this old dowager, and of course it was not for me to make objec- tions. Ere I well knew how, I was alone with a flat candle- stick, which is not the most sympathetic of companions, and stood studying the snuff in a frame of mind between triumph and chagrin. All had gone well with my flight : the masterful lady who had arrogated to herself tiie arrange- ment of the details gave me every confidence ; and I saw myself already -a .iving at my uncle's door. But, alas ! it WHS another story with my love affair. I had seen and spoken with her alone ; I had ventured boldly ; I had been not ill received ; I had seen her change colour, had enjoyed the undissembled kindness of her eyes; and now, in a moment, down comes upon the scene that apocalyptic fig- ure with the nightcap and the horse-pistol, and with the very wind of her coming behold me separated from my love ! Gratitude and admiration contended in my breast with the extreme of natural rancour. My appearance in 90 ST. IVES her honse at past midnight had an air (I could not disguise It rom mysel ) that was insolent and underhand, and fould Ld Lk™ "r ,1 '"r,"'" """'' '"'Viohn^. And the old lad, qnestion than hor courage, and I was afraid that her " telhgence would be found to nu.tch. Certainly Miss ...d been rouble.1. I could see but the one way before me ■ to proflt by an exeelleut bed, to try to sleep soon to be 8 .mug early, and to hope for some renewed oZ'i™ in the monnng. To have said so much and yet to sr Z ".ore, to go out into the world upon so half-hearted a part" .ug, was more than I could accept ^ It Is ray belief that the benevolent fiend sat up all night to oaulk me. She was at my bedside with a candle W "tdte'dt tl "° '';":'' '"^ ""•" («■'"«•' «re wholly Misuited to ho journey) in a bundle. ,Sore grudgiuir I ■ZclclZ: i" r 'f "i """^ ^""""■^ fabric! as lllitt .iss.ckcloth and about as becoming as a sl.roud • and nn oom,„g fortl,, found the dn.gon had prepa d for i™ out the tea, and entertained me as I ate with a great deal of good sense and a conspicuous lack of charm. iC often dul I not regret the change !_how often compare hir, and But if my entertamer was not beautiful, she had certainly eatio, with ray destnied fellow-travellers ; and the device on wh.ch she had struck appeared entirely suitable I was a young Engl shman who had outrun the constable ; wir rante were out against me in Scotland, and it bad beelrae prTvaWy ""^^ *' """" """'■'* '»'■ <" «- »»^ i THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE Jl -wifipirn ^'''" ' ^^'•y good account of you," s.id she, wh.cli I hope you may justify. I told them there was nothing against yo.i beyond the fact that you were put to the haw (,f fhat is the right word) for debt " s.id \'"'"T.?'l ^'" 1'"'' ^^'' cx,>ression incorrectly, ma'am," H.X I. [do not g,ve myself out for a person easily "iH.mod ; bu you must adn.it there isson.ething barbarous and medueval .n the sound well cpudilied to startle a poo foreigner. '■ " It is the name of a process in Scots Law, an.l need H arm no honest man," saiII to tho aunt, kissin.r hor hiind. I did tho liko— but with how diir.Mvnta passion '— to hor niooo ; as for tho boy, I look him to ,uy arms and embraood him with a oordialily that soomod to striko him spooohloss. - I<^irowoll ! " and •' Karowoll ! " I said. - I sluul novor forgot my frionds. Koop mo somotimos in n.omory. Farowoll!" With that I turnod my baok und bogan to walk aw:.y ; and had sciuro dono so. whon 1 hoard tho door i„ iho hij,), ^vall cjoso bohind mo Of oonrso this was tho aunt's doing; and of courso. if I know anything of human oharactor, she won hi not lot mo go without somo tart oxprossions. I doolaro. ovon if I had iH^urd thom. 1 should not havo mindod in the least, for I was (piKo persuaded that, whateveradmirors 1 might be leavin.r behind mo in Swauston Cottage, the aunt was not tho leasl sincere. I) CriAPTKR X T rr !•; r) ito v lo iih It took- in(' .'i lil.llo olTorl, to (ioirio nhwmt of my now (-om- piuiion; for tlioii^'li lio w.-ilkcd with mi ugly roll uiui no grcHt iippc'ii-iUKro of Hp(,,M|, ho coiiid oovop tho ground at a good rut(! whon ho wiuilod to. l-koli lookod at tlu; othor : I with natural curiosity, ho with a groat apj)oaranoo of (listasto. I havo hoard sinoo th.-it hi.s heart was cmtiroly sot against mo; ho had soon mo knool to the ladioH, and diiignosod n.o for a " gostorin' oodiot." " So, yo'ro for England, aro yo ?" said he. I told him yos. "Wool, thoro's wanr places, I beliovo," was liis reply; and he relapsed i?ito a silonco which was not broken during a (piarter of an hour of steady walking. 'riiis i^itorval brought us to tho foot of a biiro }jrrcen val- ley, which wound upwards and i)ackwards among the hills. A little stream came down the midst and made a succes- sioti of clear pools; near by tho lowest of which I was aware of a drove of shaggy cattle, and a man who see/nod the very counterpart of Mr. 8im making a breakfast upon bread and cheese. This second drover (whose name proved to be Candlish) rose on our approach. " Jlore'a a mannie that's to gang tlirough with uh," .said Sim. "It was tbe auld wife, Gilchrist, wanted it."' "Aweel, aweel," said the other; and presently, romem- 85 'M) .ST. IVES luM-inij: l»is nmnnors, and looking; on mo with a solemn grin, •* A (inn day ! " say8 ho. r iii;ro(Hl with him, iind iiskod him Iiow lio did. " Hniwly," WHS tho roply ; Jind without, fiirfchoroivilitioa, tho pair procooiiod to ^ot tiie ojittlo under way. 'Phis, aa well as almost all tho hording, was tho work of a pair of 0(»moly and intolliojent don> l.-:.|"'«lllnvo n..>noul..r I he Iu-hMmu- • w.. I'.'« .;<.-.nv luu,. lo .vl (., onr fcrl, h.-fon- w,. u.-r. usHuilnl • ;'•'•''•'•■' '''■'•''•'''^ ^^'''-iMMUM.r ns w;,s rn«.^...| ,vilh un uH- orsm-y wlmn, ( ..> .Uv|MM,in^^ • wiliKl.l, s,.uv,. imm-mmILmI hin, l,HMI.s,,nlinollMM-<,n,,.U.r.s.,unin no I'os.hon lo .losrnho. TIm> rof^M... Ilntl, loll to n.y Hha.v was ox.w.l.n^y .^ilo.n,lox,uM-|, will, Lis woa,.o.;; |.a.| un.l •^>1'« "u. Hi a .l.sa,lvMnlM«o fn.n, I ho li.-s|,„,s,snnll, ; fon',.,! n,o o K'vogronnd conlinnally. and al, last, in m.no solf-do- onoo to lot Inn, havo tho point. It sl.-nrk hi,,, i„ ,,|„ tlm..t. an.l ho went down like u ninopin an.l ...ovcmI no n >^oon,od this was the sional for tho on^.,^nMnont to ho «l«s.'ont.nno,l. Tho otho,- .-ondrntants soparatod at onoo • oMi- foos wore snlTorod. wilhont n.olostation. to lift ni, an, l)oar awuv thoir f.Ilon .'oniPulo : so that I porooivod this sor of war to bo not wholly withont laws of ohivalry. and 1HM-In,ps rathor to par.ako of thoohurm-tor of a tonrnann-nt >an of a hattlo ,} outnmre. Tln>,-o was no donbfc, at loast, null 1 was supposed to have i»nshod tho alTair toosorionsly. Our fnonds tho onon,y ron.ovod thoir woundod companion Mithiuuhsgu.sod oonstornatiou; and thoy woro no sooner over tho top of tho brao, than Sim and Candlish loused ui, their weaned drove and set, forth on a night march. •* I m blinking Faa's unco bad," said tho ono. "Ay," said tlio other, " ho lookit dooms ijash " *' He did that." said the first. And tlieir weary sileuco fell upou them again. I' TIIK DROVKKft 103 iVowtnMy Him ttirnod to mo. " YcVo iinco nwly with tlio Htidit," Hiiid ho. " Too n^udy, I'm afraid," Hiiid f. •' I am afraid Mr. Vim (if that ho liiH name) haH ^'ot hin f^'nicl." " Wcol, I woidddao woii(h'r," rcplic^d Sim. " And what iu likoly to happoii ? " \ iiKjiiirod. " Awoci." Haid Sim, Hiinnin/r |irof«»iiiidly, " if I w«'ro to conion, it W(»nld not l»(; (:(»iiHcicritionH. l-'or th(! plain far;' in. Mr. St. Ivy, tliat I div not ken. Wo havo had (•ra(d Gilchrist. You "My good man," said I, ^ac allow myself to be 106 placed ST. IVES snch ridicnlc position.' Mrs. Gilchrist is nothing to me, and I refuse to be her debtor." " I dinna exactly see wliat way ye're gann to help it," observed my drover. "By paying you here and now," said I. " Tliere's aye twa to a bargain, Mr. St. Ives," said he. " You mean that you will not take it ? " said I. "There or thereabout," said hn. " Forbye, that it would set ye a heap better to keep your siller for them you a^e it to. Ye're young, Mr. St. Ivy, and thoughtless; but it's my belief that, wi' care and circumspection, ye may yet do credit to yoursel'. But just you bear this in mind : that him that awes siller sliould never gie siller." Well, what was there to say ? I accepted his rebuke, and bidding the pair farewell, set off alone upon my south- ward way. "Mr. St. Ivy," was the last word of Sim, " I was never muckle ta'eu up in Englishry ; but I think that I really ought to say that ye seem to me to have the makings of quite a daceut lad." i CHAPTER XI THE OREAT NORTH ROAD It diancod that as I went down the hill these last words of my friend the drover echoed not unfruitfnlly in my head. I had never told these men the least particnlars as to my race or fortnne, as it was v. part, and the best part, of their civility to ask no questions : yet they had dubbed me without hesitation English. Some strangeness in the accent they had doubtless thus explained. And it occurred to me, that if I could pass in Scotland for an Englishman, I might be able to reverse the process and pass in England for a Scot. I thought, if I was pushed to it, I could make a struggle to imitate the brogue ; after my experience with Candlish and Sim, I had a rich provision of outlandish words at my command ; and I felt I could tell the tale of Tweedie's dog so as to deceive a native. At the same time, I was afraid my name of St. Ives was scarcely suitable ; till I remembered there was a toAvn so called in the province of Cornwall, thought I might yet be glad to claim it for my place of origin, and decided for a Cornish family and a Scots education. For a trade, as I was equally ignorant of all, and as the most innocent might at any moment be the means of my exposure, it was best to pretend to none. And I dubbed myself a young gentleman of a sufficient fortune and an idle, curious habit of mind, rambling the country at my own charges, in quest of health, informa- tion, and merry adventures. 107 308 ST. IVES At Newcastle, whicli wus tlie first town I roacliod, I com- pletcd my i)repiiriitions for the part, before going' to the inn, by the purciiase of a knapsack and a pair of leathern gaiters. My plaid I continued to wear from sentiment. It was warm, useful to sleep in if I were again benighted, and I had discovered it to be not unbecoming for a man of gallant carriage. Thus cquii)i)ed, I supported my charac- ter of the light-hearted pedestrian not amiss. "Surprise was indeed expressed that I should have selecited such a season of the year ; but I pleaded some delays of business, aiKl smilingly claimed to be an eccentric. The devil wiis in it, I would say, if any season of the year was not good enough for me ; I was not made of sugar, I was no molly- coddle to be afraid of an ill-aired bed or a sprinkle of snow ; and I would knock upon the table with my list and call for t'other bottle, like the noisy and free-hearted young gentle- man I was. It was my policy (if I may so express myself) to talk much and say little. At the inn tables, the coun- try, the state of the roads, the business interest of those who sat down with me, mid the course of public events, afforded me a considerable field in which I might discourse at large and still communicate no information about my- self. There was no one with less air of reticence ; I plunged into my company up to the neck ; and I had a long cock- and-bull story of an aunt of mine which must have con- vinced the most suspicious of my innocence. " What ! " they would have said, "that young ass to be concealing anything ! Why, he has deafened me with an aunt of his until my head aches. He only wants you should give him a line, and he would tell you his whole descent from Adam downward, and Jiis whole private fortune to the Inst shil- ling." A responsible solid fellow was even so much moved by pity for my inexperience as to give me a word, or two of good advice : that I was but a young man after all— I had \ THE GREAT NOUTII IIOAD 109 \ I at this time Ji deceptive air of youtli tliiit made me easily pass for oiie-and-twenty, and was, in tlje eircumstanccs, worth a fortune— that the company at inns was very min- Khid, tliat I should do well to be more careful, and the like ; to all which I made answer that I meant no harm myself and expected none from others, or the devil was in it. " You are one of tliose d d prudent fellows that I could never abide with," said I. " You are the kind of man that has a long head. That's all the world, my dear sir : the long-heads and the short-horns ! Now, I am a short-horn." - I doubt," says he, - that you will not go very far without getting sheared." I offered to bet with him on that, and he made oif, shaking his head. But my particular delight was to enlarge on politics und the war. None damned the French like me ; none was more bitter against the Americans. And when the north- bound mail arrived, crowned with holly, and the coachman and guard hoarse with shouting victory, I went even so far as to entertain the company to u bowl of punch, which I compounded myself with no illiberal hand, and doled out to such sentiments as the following : " Our glorious victory on the Nivelle ! " " Lord Well- ington, God bless him ! and may victory ever attend upon his arms ! " and, " Soult, poor devil ! and may he catch it again to the same tune ! " Never was oratory more applauded to the echo— never any one was more of the popular man tlian I. I promise you, we made a night of it. Some of the company sup- ported each other, with the assistance of boots, to their respective bed-chambers, while the rest slept on tlie field of glory where we had left them ; and at the breakfast table the next morning there was an extraordinarv assem- blage of red eyes and shaking fists. I observed patriotism to burn much lower by daylight. Let no one blame me 110 HT. IVKS If !?:«' U>\' lUHOUMilulily lo Iho rt'V(M-M(>s of Kniiico I (j.mI knowH lu)\v m,v lioarl. r.Mgv.l. ll„\v I longvd (o full oii lluil, l.cnl of swino !ni(l Ixnock (licir Iic-uIm lop-llicr in llic niomctil, of ihoir rovolrv I Mul voii iin> I,. ,>,>iiMi,l,.r mv own Miliiiitioii ini.l i(M lu'.vssilics: iilMo a .vrliiin liKliHinii'lcdiioHH. .Miii- ncMlIy (liilli,-. whi.'h r.MniM a IcM.liiii; (mil in my i'liiiniclcr, jm.l loads n\.' lo Ihrow inysoli' iiilo new oiiviimslancpM wilh 111.' spirit of a s.'hoollMy. H, is |,ossil.l.> llmi I s..ni.<|im( furl lior than ^mmmI taslo approves ; ami I was .vrlaiiily piiiiishod (ov il ,.,„•('. 'I'liiswasiii thcopisoopal oily of Durham. Wo sal. down, a oonsidorahlooompany. lodimior. mosi o\' us lino old vullod Ktiglish lorios ,d' Ihal olass whioh is ol'ioii so oiilhusiaslio un <>; ''«' inarlioulalo. I look ami hold I ho load from tlio bo- jri'ining ; and. iho lalk liavini,' luniod on Iho l-'ronoh in Iho IVninsida. I i^avo Mioni MnMionliodolails(oi» Mn«aiilJior- i(y of a oonsin of mino. an onsi^n) of o(>rlain oannihal ori>ios in (Jalioia. in whioh no loss a, porson Mian (J(>n<-r(il CalTarolIi had lakon a part. I always dislikod thai com- niandor. who onoo ordorod mo nndor arrost for insnhordi- natioti : and il is possihio Ihal a spioo of vonm-anoo addod lo Iho vxixowr of my piolnro. I have foryollon Iho d(>lails ; tio donhl thoy woro hioh-oolonrod. NodonM I rojoiood |,i fool (hoso joltor-hoads ; and nodoidil |,h(> sonso of soonriTv that I drank from Ihoir dnll. sraspiniv fao,«s onoonra^^'od mo lo prooood oxtronudy far. .Vnd for my sins. thor(> was ()m> piloni litllonianat tahlo who look my story at Iho trno valuo. It was from no sonso (>f luimonr. to whioh ho was quito doad. It w.-is from no partionlar intolliuonoo. for lio had not any. Tho bond of sympatliy, of all things in tlio world, had rondorod liini olairvoyant. IVhuior was no sooner done than I atrolled forth into tlio stroo-ts witii some design of viewing the eatiiedral ; and the little man was silently at my heels. A few doors from the 'HMO UKKA'I' NOII'III UOAI) J I I iim. ill II. (Idrk pliicin (»f \.\w Hlnvl,. I wjih awarn of a ioiuili on my aim. (.niiind Hii(|ry ofyoiiiH wm |"ii*'i«''"lHily ri'li. Ilf li(> ! l'a,il.i(Milarly racy.'' nai(| lio. " I (.(ill y(»ii, Hir, ( (nll.' a, very <'(.nirortalilc place. They draw good al(^ my. Would y(»n he ho «'ond('HC(>iidin^' m l.o alian! a pot, wilh nui?" Tlioro wan Honmlliiii/r k(» a,mhi;rnonn and Kccrct. in Iho liU.lo nian'H porpcd.nal ni;^f|ia,lliii;j;, Mial. I ron.'cKH my (inrirmity waH iiincli aroiiHcid. I'daniin^r myHnll', <.vcn aH I did ho, f(,r Mm indiHcrclion, I (-mhractcd liin proponal, and W(! werc! Koon fa.(!(i l.o I'aco ov(!r a Lankan! of mulled ah;, lie lowonid liin voico to Urn JcaHl. alteniialion of a whinper. " Here, nir," Haid he, " \h l.o the (Jroat, Man. I l.liink yon lake mo ? No ?" Il(^ Icaimd forward l.ill onr nowiH almf-si, lomduMi. '• |Icr(! in (,o l,li(> I'lmpiiror ! " Haid ho. I *va.H nxl.rmnely omharraH,4cd, and, in Hpil.o of t.ho ercul,- iiro*H iiuKMumI, appearanco, monj than half alarmed. I Uionj^lit him too inf/otnioiiH, and, indeed, too daring for a si)y. Yot if ho vvcro lionoHt he miiHt ho a man of (-xtra- ordinary indiHcretion, and therefore very unfit to he on- ooura,^'ed by an OHeaped [)riHoner. I took a half eonrKc, accordingly -Hicoop ted his toaHt in Hilonce, and drank it witliont onlhiiHiaHtn. Ifo proceed('d to aOonnd in the praisoHof Napoleon, Hnch m I had never heard in France, or at least only on the lips of ollicials |)ai(l to olTijr tlnnn. "And tliiH Cairarelli, now," ho pursued : " he isaHpIen- did fellow, too, iw ho not ? I have not heard vastly much of him myHelf. No details, sir— no details ! We labour under huge difficulties here as to unbiassed information." 112 ST. IVK8 _ I boliovo I havp hennl iho mmo complaint in othor ro„n- ncs, I could not help ronnirkin^^. '• I}„t a, to OulVurdli, .0 .8 ne.t or lan.o nor blind, ho has two logs, and u noso ■nthcnnddoofh.sfaoo. And I ...ro ,.,s nuu-h about him !is you earo for tho doad body of Mr. iV-rooval ! " Ho studied me with gN)wiiig oyos. "You cannot decoivo moJ '* ho cried. "Yon Jmvo sorved under him. Vou are a French.nan ! I hohl by tlio I'and. at Ia«t. one of tluit noble raee. the pioneers of tho jonous principles of liberty and br„thcrhoo,i. Hush ' No, It IS all right. 1 thought there had b,>en somebody at the door In this wretched, enslaved country we daro not even call our souls our own. The sj^y and tho hangn.an, .r-tho spy ami the hangman ! And yet thero isa candle ''"'•"."g, t.o. The good leaven is woi-king, sir-work .' -HJornea h. Even in this town there a?o a few brav^ spirits, who moot every Wednesday. You must stay over a day or so, a,id join us. Wo do not use this house. An- other a.,d a quieter They draw fine alo, liowovor-fair, o L^ y'" "; /'"'^ ^'""''"'^ ""^"^ ^'•'^"'^«' --'-^ OS d ■" ^"^^^'"^— "^^ very daring sentiments cZ piessed ho cried, expanding his small chest. -Mon- archy Chnstianity-all the trappings of a bloated past- the liee Confraternity of Durham and Tvneside deride " Here was a devil of a prospect for a gentleman whoso whole design was to avoid observation !^ The Free Con! 110 pait of my baggage ; and I tried, instead, a little cold . "You seem to forget, sir, that my Emperor has re-estab- lished Christianity," I observed. "Ah. sir, but that was policy ! " ],e exclaimed. "You no not nndo'vtand N'ii)oU>nn t i * u i , . PRrPPr T -'-""' •^.•'l'^^^^^"- 1 iwive followed his whole career. I can explain Ins policy from first to last. Now THE OKKATNOHTir ROAD 113 for instanoo in the Poninst.la, on which yon woro bo very un.ufiy ,f yon will como to a friend's house who has a map of Simm, 1 can make the whole conrso of the war quite clear to yon, I venture to say, in half an hour." ihis was intolerable. Of the two extremes, 1 found 1 I)referrc ^ • t r ^ , kT,nwr, n^ ^"'"-"'•'^- -'f com 30 I apologiscd. I luid not known Ihe devil was in it if a soldier had not a right to the best in England. And with that sentiment, which was 8 114 ST. IVKS loudly ii|)|)lim(Io(l, I found a roruor of a Ikmu-Ii, and awaifod, with sotno Iiopcs of ontortaininout, tlio roturn of tliP horo. llo proved, of couiho, I<» ho a privato HoMior. I Kay of course, hccausc no ollicor oouhl posHihly on joy .siu-h lKMjj;ht,s of popiihirity. llo had hoon wounded hoforo San Schastian, and still wcn-o his arm in a isling. What was a groat deal worso for him, ovory inond)or of tlio (M»mpanv had hoon plying him with drink. His honost yokel's oountonaneo hlazod as if with fever, his eyes wore glared and looked the two ways, and his foot stundthMl as. amidst a nuirnuir of ajtplauvso, ho rolurnod t) the midst of his admirers. Two Miijjutos afterwards I was .ngain posting in the dark along the highway ; to explain which sudden movomoid, of retreat 1 must trouhletho reader with a rominisoonooof my servioes. I lay one night with the out-piekcts in Castile. Wo 'Voro in close touch M'ith the enemy ; the usual orders had hoon issued against smoking, tires, and talk, and hoth armies lay as quiet as mice, when I saw tho Knglish aenti- nel «ipposito making a signal hy holding up his musket. I repeated it, and wo hoth crept together in the dry hod of a stream, which mudb tho donuvrcation of tho armies. It was wine ho wanted, of which wo had a good provision, and the English had quite run out. IIo gave mo tho money, and I, as was the custom, left him my firelock in i)ledge, and set olT for the canteen. When I returned with a skin of wine, behold, it had pleased sonio uneasy dovil of an English ofllcer to withdraw the outposts ! Here was a situation with a vengeance, and I looked for nothing but ridicule in the present and punishment in the future. Doubtless our officers winked pretty hard at this inter- cli.inge of courtcsioB, but doubtless it would be impossible to wink at so gross a fault, or rather so pitiable a misad- THE (HtKAT NOUTM K(»AI) iir. Wo voiiiiiro ii« mine; iitid yon ani In cohchmvo mo wundf-rin/r ill Mio pliiiiiH of (IfiHtilc. Iicniglilcd, (;lmrjr(.(| wit.li u wiiid- Hkiii for wlii(!li I liiid no uhc, iind with no knowl('(|^f(. wliiit,- cvcr of tlio wliorcjiboul.H of my miiHkot, lioyond t,Iml, it, wm Homcwhon) in my lic.rd VV«'Iliiijr(,un'H urmy. I'.iit, mv Kn;,'- liHlimiin wiiH ('il,li(>r ii very lioncMt, fellow, (»r el.so extremely iliirHl.y, and ut, IiihI, contrived (,o udvcMtiw! iim; of liiw new position. Now. tlie Kn-rlisli wentry in (UihUU'. and llio wounded lioro in tlu! Durham puhlie-lioii.so worn one and the same jJerHon ; and if he had heen a littjo Iohh drunk, or myself h-ss lively in g(atin<,'away, ilio travels of M. St. Iv(-s mijrlit have eonu' to an untimely end. I suppose this woke mo up ; it stirnid in me besides a s|)irit of opposition, and in s|Ht(( of cold, darkness, the hi<,diwaymen and the footpads. I determinful i,o walk rif^'ht on until break fast-ti>ne : a happy n'solution, which emibled mc to observe one of those trait,s of manners which at once depict a country ami (!(»ndemn it. It was near fnidni^dit when I saw, a p^reat way ahead of me, the li-r|,t of many tondios ; presentrly after, the sound of wlu^els reached mo and tho slow tread of feet, and soon I had joined myself to the rear of a sordid, silent, and lu^'u])rioiis ])rocession, su(!li as we see in dreams. (!lose on a huf.dred persotis marched by tonddight in unbroken silenco ; in their midst a cart, and in the cart, on an imdined platform, Dw, dead body of a man— the centre-piece of this solemnil,y, the Ikm-o whoso obsecjuies we were come forth at this unusual liour to cole- brate. It was but a plain, dingy old f(dlow of fifty or sixty, his throat out, liis shirt turned over as though to show the wound. Blue trousers and brown socks com- pleted his attire, if we can talk so of the dead. He had a horrid look of a waxwork. In the tossing of the lights he seemed to make faces and mouths at us, to frown, and to be at times upon the point of speech. The cart, with this 110 HT. IVKS Hlrnbhy iUMl tm-i,^ f.vi-hl, and Hun-otituliHl l.y its siUMit cs- (H)rt, iin.l l,n-ht t,orcI„.s. ..ontimunl f,,,- soino .li.stancc t,,. lieve it imist have bee. at my next Htaf,'e, for I reinernber {r„i„^r to bed extremely «>arly, that f eanio to tlio model of a ^'ood old-fa.shioned Mn^diHh inn, and was at- tended on l)y the pieturc of a pretty (diambermaid. Wo had a pood many pleasant |)assageH an Kho waited taldc or warmed my bed for me with a devil of a brass warming- pan, fnlly hirger tlian lierself ; and as she was no less pert than she was pretty, she may Ije said to have piven rather hotter tiian she took. I cannot tell why (unless it were for the sake of her saiuiy eyes), but I made her my confidante, told lier I was attached to a youn-r lady in Scotland, and received the oneouragemont of lior sympathy, mingled and connected with a fair amount of rustic wit. While I 8lei)t the down-mail stopped for supper ; it chanced that one of tlie passengers left beliind a copy of the Edinburyh Cou- m)ti, and tlic next morning my pretty chambermaid set the paper before mo at breakfast, with the remark that there was some news from my lady-love. Ltook it eagerly, hop- ing to find some farther word of our escai)e, in which I was disappointed ; and I was about to lay it down, when my eye fell on a paragraph immediately concerning me. Faa was in hospital, grievously sick, and warrants were out for the arrest of Sim and Candlish. 'Jliesc two men had shown themselves very loyal to me. This trouble emerging, the least I could do was to be guided by a similar loyalty to them. Suppose my visit to my uncle crowned with some success, and my finances re-esta1)lished, I determined I should immediately return to Edinburgh, put their case in the hands of a good lawyer, and await events. So my mind 118 ST. IVES was very lightly mado nn to what proved a mip;hty scri'ons matter. CaiuUisli and Sim were all very well in their way, and I do sincerely trust I should have heen at some pains to help them, had there heen nothing else. But in truth my eyes and my heart were set on quite another matter, and r reeeived the news of their trihulation almost with joy. That is never a bad wind that blows whore wo want to go, and you may be sure there was nothing unweleomo in a circumstance that carried me ba(!k to Kdinburgh and Flora. From that hour I began to iiululge myself with the making of imaginary scenes and interviews, in which 1 con- founded the aunt, llattered Itonald, and now in the witty, now in the sentimental manner, declared my love and received the assurance of its return. Hy means of this ex- ercise my resolution daily grew stronger, until at last I had piled together such a mass of obstinacy as it would have taken a cataclysm of nature to subvert. " Yes," said I to the chambermaid, " here is news of my lady-love indeed, and very good news too." All that day, in the teeth of a keen winter wind, I hugged myself in my plaid, and it was as though her arms were flung around me. CHAPTER XII I FOLLOW A COVEIIED CAKT NEARLY TO MY nESTINATION At lust I began to draw near, by reasonable stages, to tlie neighbouriiood of Wakefield ; and tlie name of Mr. Burcliell Fenn came to the top in my memory. Tiiis was the gentleman (the reader may remember) who made a trade of forwarding the escape of Frencli prisoners. How lie did so : whether he had a signboard, Escupes for- warded, apply within; what he charged for his services, or whether they Wire gratuitous and charitable, were all matters of whioh I was at once ignorant and extremely curious. Thanks to my proficiency in English, and Mr. Romaine's bank-notes, I was getting on swimmingly with- out him ; but the trouble was that I could not be easy till I had come at the bottom of those mysteries, and it was my difficulty that I knew nothing of him beyond the name. I knew not his trade — beyond thpt of Forwarder of Es- capes — whether he lived in town or country, whether he were rich or poor, nor by what kind of address I was to gain his confidence. It would have a very bad appearance to go along the highwayside asking after a man of whom I could give so scanty an account ; and I should look like a fool, indeed, if I were to present myself at his door and find the police in occupation ! The interest of the conun- drum, however, tempted me, and I turned aside from my direct road to pass by Wakefield ; kept my ears pricked as I went for any mention of his name, and relied for the rest 119 120 ST. IVES on ray good ,„rt„„c. „ i,,,^,, („,,„ ,„„^j mmc) favoiucl mo as &r ,is to tlirow mo in t.hr m.,,,' I should owo th„ l,;d, a oaudio ; i, not I , rvoTy oS ccsok m,solf. In this o.ponmonta'l h„mo n'ni wi^^h htt to help me, it ™ a miraole that I should have r. ra-clouds that had hognn to assemble in the north- ves^ and from that quarter invaded the whole wid th „ th ' arai^s ts ;a':: ;:,d7i„rdr s ttd';;;^^^ »' dint of fl,!^ ", • ' " ™"'''' °' "'" ™"'' ""J l-y "'e la^t t at 1 thought I had never seen before, preceding mc at the foofs paoe of jaded horses. Anjthi .g is interelin" to l^otlZ "'",' 7T '"'" ■'"" '» '"■■s«' "■« ■"^- o' iook thr::,;iet '°""^' •^'^^^ ""^ s''"""""'^ «-- The nearer I came, the more .t puzzled mc. It was much such a cart as I am told the calico printers u mo" 2 ri e? ''S in:"" '"T^'f ''"" " -■" "' '-"»" ness to eontom a good load of calico, or (at a pinch and if .t were necessary) four or five persons. But Meed f human be.ngs were meant to travel there, t^; had my P'ty! They must travel in the dark, for thefe was Z 1 I FOLLOW A COVERED CART 121 like a phial of doctor's stuff, for the cart was not only un! gainly to look at-it was besides very imperfectly balanced Altoll'"' -n'/^, ^'^''^'' "^^^ P'^^^^^^ unconscionably. Altogether, if I liad any glancing idea that the cart was really a carriage, I had soon dismissed it ; bnt I was still inquisitive as to what it should contain, and where it had come from Wheels and horses were splashed with many different colours of mud, as thougli they had come far and across a considerable diversity of country. The driver con tinually and vainly plied his whip. It seemed to follow they had made a long, perhaps an all-night, stage; and that the driver, at that early hour of a little after eight in the morning, already felt Iiimself belated. I looked for the name of the proprietor on the shaft, and started outright, fortune had favoured the careless : it was Burchell Fonn ' A wet morning, my man," said I. The driver, a loutish fellow, shock-headed and turnip- faced, returned not a word to my salutation, but savagefy flogged his horses. The tired animals, who could JaZ crno V "' '? ^''r '''' °""^'' P^'^ "« attention to his cruelty ; and I continued without effort to maintain my position alongside smiling to myself at the futility of his att mpts, and at the same time pricked with curfosity a to wliy he made them. I made no such formidable a fig- uie as that a man should flee when I accosted him ; and my conscience not being entirely clear, I was more accus- tomed to be uneasy myself than to see others timid. Pre - Te'J^f"''''^' '"^ ^^"' ""''^ ^"^ ^^"P i^ the holster with the air of a man vanquished. " So you would run away from me ? " said I. " Come come, that's not English." ' '* Beg pardon, master : no offence meant." he said, tounh- mg his hat. 122 ST. IVES ! " cried I. " All I dosiro is a little "And none taken gaiety by the way." I undorstood him to aay he did.i't '• take with ^^aiety." ** Then I will try yon with something else," said I " I can he all things to all men, like the apostle ! I dare to say I have travelled with heavier fellows than yon in my time, and done famonsly well with them. Are yon going " Yes, I'm a goin' home, I am," he said. "A very fortunate cireumstanee for me ! " said T «' At this rate we shall see a good deal of each other, going the same way ; and, now I come to think of it, why should you not giv^ me a cast ? There is room beside yon on the bench." With a sudden snatch, he carried the cart two yards into the roadway. The horses i,lung,.d and eanie to a stop, ^o. you don't ! " he said, menacing me with the whip. "Noneo' that with me." " None of what ? " said I. " I asked yon for a lift, but 1 inive no idea of taking one by force." 'MVell, I've got to take oare of the cart and 'orses, I have, says lie. " I don't take up with no runagate va'^a- bones, yon see, else." '^ ;' I ought to thank you for your touching confidence,'* said 1. approaching carelessly nearer as I spoke. ''But I admit the road is solitary hereabouts, and no doubt an ac- cideut soon happens. Little fear of anything of the kind with you ! I like yon for it, like your prudence, like that pastoral shyness of disposition. Hut why not put it out of my power to hurt ? Why not open the door and bestow me here m the box, or whatever you please to call it?" And I laid my hand demonstratively on the body of the cart. *^ He had been timorous before; bnt at this, lie seemed to f \ I FOLLOW A COVERED CART 123 lose tho power of speech a moment, and stared at me in a perfect enthusiasm of fear. "Why not?" I continued. "Tho idea is good. I should bo safe in there if I were tho monster Williams Inmsoir The great thin, is to have mo un.ler lock Z key. l^or it ^^ewlapped like a bull unci led as u harvest moon ; and in his jockey can bh.e The pair continued to speak as I came up the approach said l!'''''' ^''' ^'''''"''' ""^ '''^'^'''''^''S Mr. Burchell Fenn ? " - The same, sir," replied Mr. Fenn, taking off his jockev cap m answer to my civility, but with the distant Took and the tardy movements of one who continues to think of sometlung else '' And who may you be ? " he asked! Isluill tell you afterwards,'^ said I. -Suffice it in the meantime, that I come on business." ' gapmg. Ins httle eyes never straying from my face. buffer me to point out to you, sir," I resumed, -that 1. s IS a devil of a wet morning ; and that the chimney hXir' '°""'^ ' '"''' ^' ^^"^^^'-^ ^^^^ - clearly Indeed, the rain was now grown to be a debge ; the gut- ers of the house roared ; the air was filled Jtl the Sn- tnuous, strident crash. The stolidity of his face, on whicli the rain streamed, was far from reassuring me On the contrary, I was aware of a distinct qualm of apprehension which was not at all lessened I a view of the driver, c an! ng from his perch to observe us with the expression of a fascinated bird. So we stood silent, when Ihe prisone again began to sneeze from tlie body of the cart and I the sound, prompt as a transformation, the dii;erhad shipped up his horses and was shambling off and he corner of the house, and Mr. Fenn, recovering Zw with a gulp, had turned to the door behind him 126 ST. IVES " Come in, come in, sir/' he said, sir; tlie lock goes a trifle liartl." (( beg your pan] on, Indeed, it took him a surprising time to open the door which was not only locked on the outside, but the lock seemed rebellious from disuse ; and wiien at last he stood back and motioned me to enter before him, I was greeted on the threshold by that peculiar and convincing sound of the ram echoing over empty chambers. The entrance hall in which I now found myself, was of a good size and good proportions ; potted plants occupied the corners • the paved floor was soiled with muddy foo! -n-ints and encum- bered witli straw ; on a mahogany hall table, which was the only furniture, a candle had been stuck and suffered to burn down—plainly a long while ago. for the gutteriiiffs were green with mould. My mind, under these new iin- pressions, worked with unusual vivacity. I was here shut off with Fenn and his hireling in a deserted house, a neg- lected garden, and a wood of evergreens : the most oli-ible theatre for a deed of darkness. There camo to mo a vfsion of tvyo flags raised in the hall floor, and the driver putting in the rainy afternoon over my grave, and the prospect displeased me extremely. I felt I had carried my pleasantry as far as was safe ; I must lose no time in declaring my true character, and I was even choosing the words in which I was to begin, when the hall door was slammed to behind me with a bang, and I turned, dropping my stick as I did so, m time— and not any more than time— to save my life The surprise of the onslaught and the huge weight of my assailant gave him the advantage. He had a pistol in his right hand of a portentous size, which it took me all my strength to keep deflected. With his left arm he strained me to his bosom, so that I thought I must be crushed or stifled. His mouth was open, his face crimson and he panted aloud with hard animal sounds. The affair I 1 FOLLOW A COVERED CART 127 was as brief as it was liot and sudden. The potations which had swelled and bloated his carcase had already weakened the springs of energy. One more huge effort, that came near to ovcrpouer me, and in wiiich the pistol happily ex- ploded, an.l J felt his grasp slacken and weakness conic on Ins joints; his logs succumbed under his weight, and he grovelled on his knees on tiio stone floor. - Spare me ' " he gasped. I had not only been abominably frightened; I was shocked besides: my delicacy was in arms, like a lady to whom violence should have been offered by a similar mon- ster. I plucked myself from his horrid contact, I snatched the pistol-even discharged, it was a formidable weapon-- and menaced him with the butt. " Spare you ! " I cried • *' you beast \" ' His voice died in his fat inwards, but his lips still vehe- mently framed the same words of supplication. My anger began to pass off, but not all my repugnance ; the picture he made revolted me, and I was impatient to be spared the further view of it. "Here/' said I, "stop this performance : it sickens me 1 am not going to kill you, do you hear ? I have need of you. A look of relief, that I could almost have called beauti- ful, dawned on his countenance. " Anything-anythinir you wish," said he. '= J b Anything is a big word, and his use of it brought me for a moment to a stand. - Why, what do you mean ? " I asked. '* Do you mean that you will blow the gaff on the whole business?" He answered me Yes with eager asseverations. "I know Monsieur de Saint= Yves is in it ; it was through his papers we traced you," I said. - Do you consent to make a cle^n breast of the others ?" 1!^ ST, IVES I do-I Will !" he cried. -The 'ole crew of 'em ; there s good names among 'em. I'll be king's evidence " " So that all shall hang except yourself ? You damned villain ! I broke out. - Understand at once that I am no spy or thief-taker. I am a kinsman of Monsieur de St Yves-here in his interest. Upon my word, you have put your foot in it prettily, Mr. Burchell Fenn I Come stand up ; don't grovel there. Stand up, you lump of iniquity! ^ He scrambled to his feet. He was utterly unmanned, or It migh have gone hard with me yet ; and'l considered him hesitating, as, indeed, there was cause. The man was had first baffled his endeavours and then exposed and in- mercy? With his help I should doubtless travel more quickly; doubtless also far less rgreeably; and there was everything to show that it would be at a greater risk. In short, I should have washed my hands of him on the spot, but for the temptation of the French officers, whom I knew to be so near, and for whose society I felt so great and nat- nral an impatience. If I was to see anything of my coun- trymen, it was clear I had first of all to mtke my peace with Mr. Fenn ; and that was no easy matter. To make friends with any one implies concessions on both sides • and what could I concede ? AVhat could I say of him, but that he had proved himself a villain and a fool, and tho worse ma'- ? ^' Well," said I, -here has been rather a poor piece of business, which I daresay you can have no pleasure in call- ing to mind ; and, to say truth, I would as readily forget It myself. Suppose we try. Take back your i^istoL which smells very ill ; put it in your pocket or wherever yon had if. onnnoolorl Til ? -ht. ■, . . jv^iia\.t. It concealed, There! Now let us meet for the first lb time. — I FOLLOW A COVERED CART 129 Give yon good morning, Mr. Fenn ! I hope you do very well. I come on the recommendation of my kinsman, the Vicomte de St. Yves." " Do you mean it ? " he cried. - Do you mean you will pass over our little scrimmage ? " - Why certainly ! " said I. « It shows you are a bold fellow, who may be trusted to forget the business when it comes to the point. There is nothing against you in the little scrimmage, unless that your courage is greater tluui thaTiJ dT"^^'' ^'" """' "'^ '" ^'""^ "' ^'" ""'^ "'^'•«' " f ^A ^ ^'^ ""^ y°"' '"■' ^^°"'t betray me to the Vis- count, he pleaded. - Fll not deny but what my ^eart failed me a trifle ; but it was only a word, sir, what any- body might have said in the 'eat of the moment, and over with it. - Certainly," said I. " That is quite my own opinion." Ihe way I came to be anxious about the Vis-count " he continued, - is that I believe he might be induced to form an asty judgment. And the business, in a pecuniary point of view, is all that I could ask ; only trying sir- very trying It's making an old man of mo before my time You might have observed yourself, sir, that I 'aven't got the knees I once 'ad. The knees and the breathing, tlieiVs where it takes me. But I'm very sure, sir, I address a gen- frieTd^s "' ^' *^' ^""'^ ^"^ "^^^^ ^'°"^^" ^'^^'^'' <'ll Tv, TUT- ^"^ """ °^ "'^'^ *^^^" J"«*^<^e^" S'^^id I ; and I shall think it quite unnecessary to dwell on any of these passing circumstances in my report to the Vicomte " Which you do favour him (if you'll excuse me being ^o bold as to mention it) exac'ly ! " said he. - 1 should have known you anywheres. May I ofPer you a pot of 'ome- brewed ale, sir ? By your leave ! This way, if you please. 180 ST. IVES f.iiio« ; i , *^ 'i&bamc, anu alrcut.v he hut] Mien into an obsequious, wheedling fa„,ili,„.it/,ii' ^.^^^ blunderbuss, ci ^ed „ L „ ' utl Z f T" '"" " '""" a piece ol field artillery Ho ™J heldf '1 7°" "*" attention ; and now, as'we came trth t-' I,!'';'" ^f "" con,e,ortbr:Tr.'^rti: 'r,:Sd rr^r;' paHo,se..t„„ which Ibadalread^aLttodlirinfe:' I need not detain the reader verv lonir wJfi, ^ ' in.pudeitTh:t":i::rnti:-f»j^^^^ conquered animosity. I took aTnV^,, { '°™ He wa« ^ood .nTh o dron t ^r^™'? '^ '°"'*''^■•• temn, .e how the ^ fn"^iro/t C S'^ I FOLLOW A COVERED CART 181 p s had provecl a disappointment ; how there was "a sight of cold wet hind as you come along the 'igh roads- how the wnuls and rains and the seasons had been misdi-' re ted It seemed ''o'purpose"; how Mrs. Fenn had died- wnJr '^'',7"^";S f7 y-^^' ^Sone; a remarkable fine woman my old girl, sir! if you'll excuse xne/' he added, ..th a burst of humility. In short, he gave me an oppoi unity of steadying John Hull, as I may say, stuffed naS- h.s greed, his usuriousness, his hypocrisy, his perfidy of the back-stairs, all swelled to the superlative-3uch as was well worth the htt.e disarray and fluster of our passage in * 4 i 1 MKKT TWO (»K Mv COl'NTnYMRN" As soon ,.s I j.ul.0.1 it s;.f... an.l (l.ut wuh not bcforo ; -> ' 1 ^>to ^.,,..1 nnnonr. I ,,,.oiu.so,l |,o hI.ouI.I inlrodnco "" <^'"'^' '"••^'"'•1' oHi.vrs. lu>n,rr,.i(I, (o iKvun. n.v fel- ^»^v-pas.sonj;ors. Thoro w.ro t woof llu-.u. it a,,,,..a.v,i. ,mmI I .(.. ,ou. Alhu.u whon. I iKul just luvn st.ulyin. ^hvo "Mhos n>M.vrx.vst for n.y Mlow-countryn.on. Icoukl And all (he t.n.e I wa8 uo.nj,. (ou disappointniont it was in a spaoioiis and low r.io,,,, „itli an onllook on c.u.t. that I fonnd ,lK.n bo^towed. In th;;!!: .^^ hat honse (1,0 upartn.ont had prohahly served as a H- . or thoro wore traoos of shelves alon.^ the wainscot. 'c.u. o hve niat tresses lay on the Hoor in a eorner. with u f'wsy heap o bedding; near by V as a basin and a. ^^ n? . ■ ''"' = ""' ^''^" '-^'^'"^ ^^-^^^ ilhuninalod by no less than fonr windows, and wunned by a little crazy sidelong grate, propped up with bricks in the ven 7^ ho^ab^ecnnnoy, in which a pile of coals snu.lj;: d.S ously and gave out a few starveling flan.es. An old fnu wlnte-han-ed officer sat in one of%he chairs, wl i i he had drawn close to this apology for a lire. lie was wrapped m a camlet douk-. of which the collar was tiurd m I MKI'IT TWO o|' MV <()irNritYlMKri i:n »il», IiiH kmry Hrnokn. iid.l y<'(. 1m* Hliivcr.-.f f(,r <(.|.|. Tlio Hoc- <»ii.l- II, l.iV, (iHri.l. (i,,,. ;,„iriiul (.r !i in;in, wli.wc .w.-ry gonl,- '"•" l"l'<'ll<"l l>ini (he rnrk of ||„. walk m.kI lUr .Mltniruticm of (ho liidi.'H—lmd iipi.Hicnlly <|..s|,air(..| <»f ll,,, li,,., ,u„| now Mlrcl,. ii|, .,,.:! .|(,wii. Hrico/.in^r |,unl, |,ii,(,.,|y I.N.wiii- liiH noHc. iiii.l piolToriiij; 11 conUmml Htmimof hliistctr, con,'- J)|jiitil, iiiul haiTuck-rooMi otdhn. I'Vim sIi()\v(mI iik, in, with (he hricf form of iii(n,(Iii,.f,i„M- "(Iruilvuwn ull, l.hiH huin'M aiioUior fuin ! " and wuh ^rom, IIKlllll ill, once. Tho old lllilll KilVO MIO hiil, l,ho OMO ghui.H! out, ofluck-histro oyos; and ovoii m ho looked n HJiivor took him us sharp as a hiocoii^r|,. ij,,,, ,1,^ „,j„.,.^ ^^j,,^ ,.,.j,_ ivsoi.I.mI (., admiralimi tho ])i<-tiiro of a Hoaii in a (Jatarrh, aturod at mo arr()<,Mii(,Iy. "And whoaroyoii.'Hir?" ho askod. I inado the militar.v Haliito to my Hiiporiorn. "Champ.hvers, privato, Eighth of tlio Lino," Haid 1. I roU.v Imsincss ! " said ho. - A.ul you arc going on with us I hrco m a cart. at,d a great troiloping private at that . And who Ih to pay for yon. my lino follow ?" He iiiijuircd. ;' If inonsiour comes to that," I answered oivilly, « who paid for him?" ^' " 0, if yon choose to play tho wit I " .aid he,-and be- gan o rail at largo upon his destiny, the weather, the cold, the danger and tho expense of tho osc.pe, and above all, he cooking of tho accursed English, ft scorned to annov him particularly that 1 should have joined their part^. If you knew what you wore doing, thirty thousand mill- lODB of pigs ! you would keep yourself to yourself ! The horses can't drag the cart; the roads am all ..,t.s o.-i swamps. No longer ago than last night the Colonel and I had to march half the way-tliunder of God !-half the 134 ST. IVES way to the knees in mnd-and I with this infernal cold- and the danger of detection ! Happily we met no one : a desert-a real desert-like the whole abominable country r Nothmg to eat-no, sir, there is nothing to eat but raw cow and greens boiled in water-nor to drink but Worces- tershire sauce ! Now I, with my catarrh, I have no ap, - tite ; IS It not so ? Well, if I were in France, I should hl^e a good soup with a crust in it, an omelette, a fowl in rice a partndgem cabbages-things to tempt me, thunder of n M \ ^^r«-day of God I-what a country ! And cold too ! They talk about Russia-this is all tl^ cold I want! And the people-look at them! What a rl\ mver any handsome men ; never any fine officers ! "-and he looked down complacently for a moment at his waist- And the women-what faggots ! ^^o, that is one point clear, I cannot stomach the English ! " There was something in this man so antipathetic to me, as sent the mustard into my nose. I can never bear you; bucks and dandies, even when they are decent-looking und well dressed ; and the Major-for that was his rank- was the image of a flunkey in good luck. Even to be in acrrec- ment with h.^ or to seem to be so, was more than I could make out to endure. -You could scarce be expected to stomach them," said 1, civilly, "after having just digested your parole." He whipped round on his heel and turned on me a coun- tenance which I daresay he imagined to be awful ; but an- lenXftTcr^"^^"' '^"^ '' ''' ^^^ -"^^ -- ^^- -I have not tried the dish myself," I took the opportu- find it'so ? " " " '"' '' '' nnpalatable. Did monsieur With surprising vivacity the Colonel woke from his lethargy. He was between us ere another word could pass. J I MEET TWO OF Mt COUNTRYMEN 135 " Shame, gentlemen ! " he said. « Is this a time for Frenchmen and fellow-soldiers to fall out ? Wo are in the midst of our enemies ; a quarrel, a loud word, may suffice to plunge us back into irretrievable distress. 3Ionsieur h Commaiidant, you have been gravely offended. I make it my request, I make it my prayer— if need be, I give you my orders— that the matter shall stand by until we come safe to France. Then, if you please, I will serve you in any capacity. And for you, young man, you have shown all the cruelty and carelessness of youth. This gentleman IS your superior ; he is no longer young"— at which word you are to conceive the Major's face. - It is admitted he has broken his parole. I know not his reason, and no more do you. It might be patriotism in this hour of our country's adversity, it might be humanity, necessity; you know not what in the least, and you permit yourself to re- flect on his honour. To break parole may be a subject for pity and not derision. I have broken mine— I, a colonel of the Empire. And why? I have been years negotiating my exchange, and it cannot be managed ; those who have influence at the Ministry of War continually rush in be- fore me, and I have to wait, and my daughter at home is in a decline. I am going to see my daughter at last, and It IS my only concern lest I should have delayed too long. She IS ill, and very ill,-at death's door. Nothing is left me but my daughter, my Emperor, and my honour ; and 1 give my honour, blame me for it who dare I " At this my heart smote me. " For God's sake," I cried, - think no more of what I have said ! A parole ? what is a parole against life and death and love ? I ask your pardon ; this gen tie man's also. As long as I shall be with you, you shall not have cause to complam of me again, I pray God you will find your daughter alive and restored." 136 ST. IVES " That is past praying for," said the Colonel ; and im- mediately the brief fire died out of him, and returning to the hearth, he relapsed into his former abstraction. But I was not so easy to compose. Tlie knowledge of the poor gentleman's trouble and the sight of his face had filled me with the bitterness of remorse ; and I insisted upon shaking hands with the Major (which he did with a very ill grace), and abounded in palinodes and apologies. *' After all," said I, " who am I to talk ? I am in the luck to be a private soldier ; I have no parole to give or to keep ; once I am over the rampart, I am as free as air. I beg you to believe that I regret from my soul the use of tliese ungenerous expressions. Allow me .... Is there no way in this damned house to attract attention ? Where is this fellow, Fenn ? " I ran to one of the windows and threw it open. Fenn, who was at the moment passing below in the court, cast up his arms like one in despair, called to me to keep back, plunged into the house, and appeared next moment in the doorway of the chamber. *' 0, sir ! " says he, " keep away from those there win- dows. A body might see you from the back lane." "It is registered," said I. " Henceforward I will be a mouse for precaution and a ghost for invisibility. But in the meantime, for God's sake, fetch us a bottle of brandy ! Your room is as damp as the bottom of a well, and these gentlemen are perishing of cokL" So soon as I luid paid him (for everything, I found, must be paid in advance), I turned my attention to the fire, and whether because I threw greater energy into the business, or because the coals were now warmed and the time ripe, I soon started a blaze that made the chimney roar again. The shine of it, in that dark, rainy day, seemed to reanimate the Colonel like a blink of sun. I MEET TWO OF MY COUNTRYMEN 137 With the outburst of the flames, besides, a drauglit was established, which immediately delivered us from the plague of smoke ; and by the time Feiin returned, carry- ing a bottle under his arm and a single tumbler in his hand, there was already an air of gaiety in the room that did the heart good. I poured out some of the brandy. "Colonel," said I, " I am a young man and a private soldier. I have not been long in this room, and already I have shown the petulance that belongs to the one char- acter and the ill manners that you may look for in the other. Have the humanity to pass these slips over, and honour me so far as to accept this glass." "My lad," says he, waking up and blinking at me with an air of suspicion, " are you sure you can afford it ? " I assured him I could. "I thank you, then: I am very cold." He took the glass out, and a little colour came in his face. " I thank you again," said he. " It goes to the heart." The Major, when I motioned him to help himself, did so with a good deal of liberality ; continued to do so for tlie rest of the morning, now with some sort of apology, now with none at all ; and the bottle began to look fool- ish befoi^e dinner was served. It was such a meal as he had himself predicted : beef, greens, potatoes, mustard in a teacup, and beer in a brown jug that was all over hounds, horses, and hunters, with a fox at the far end and a gigantic John Bull— for all the world like Fenn— sitting in the midst in a bob-wig and smoking tobacco. The beer was a good brew, but not good enough for the Major; he laced it with brandy— for his cold, he said; and in this curative design the remainder of the bottle ebbed away. He culled my attention repeatedly to the circumstance ; helped me pointedly to the dregs, threw ^38 ST. IVES the bottle in the air and played tricks with it ; and at last, having exhausted his ingenuity, and seeing me remain quite blind to every hint, he ordered and paid for another himself. As for the Colonel, he ate nothing, sat sunk in a muse, and only awoke occasionally to a sense of where he was, and what he was supposed to be doing. On each of these occasions he showed a gratitude and kind courtesy that endeared him to me beyond expression. " Champdivers, my lad, your health ! " he would say. " The Major and I had a very arduous march last night, and I positively thought I should have eaten nothing, but your fortu- nate idea of the brandy has made quite a new man of me — quite a new man." And he would fall to with a great air of heartiness, cut himself a mouthful, and before he had swallowed it, would have forgotten his dinner, his company, the place where he then was, and the escape he ' was engaged on, and become absorbed in the vision of a sick room and a dying girl in France. The pathos of this continual preoccupation, in a man so old, sick, and over- weary, and whom I looked upon as a mere bundle of dying bones and death-pains, put me wholly from my victuals : it seemed tiiere was an element of sin, a kind of rude bra- vado of youth, in the mere relishing of food at the same table with this tragic father ; and though I was well enough used to the coarse, plain diet of the English, I ate scarce more than himself. Dinner was hardly over before he succumbed to a lethargic sleep ; lying on one of the mattresses with his limbs relaxed, and his breath seem- ingly suspended— the very image of dissolution. This left the Major and myself alone at the table. You must not suppose our ttle-a-tUe was long, but it was a lively period while it lasted. Ho drank like a fish or an Englishman ; shouted, beat the table, roared out songs, I MEET TWO OF MY COUNTRYMEN 139 quarrelled, made it up again, and at last tried to throw the dinner-plates through the window, a feat of which ho was at that time quite incapable. For a party of fugitives, condemned to the most rigorous discretion, there was never seen so noisy a carnival ; and through it all the Col- onel continued to sleep like a child. Seeing the Major so well advanced, and no retreat possible, 1 made a fair wind of a foul one, keeping liis glass full, pushing him with toasts ; and sooner than I could have dared to hope, he became drowsy and incoherent. With the wrong-head- edncss of all such sots, he would not be persuaded to lie down upon one of the mattresses until I had stretched myself upon another. But the comedy was soon over ; soon he slept the sleep of the just, and snored like a mil- itt*vy music ; and I might get up again and face (as best I could) the excessive tedium of the afternoon. I luid i)assed the night before in a good bed ; I was de- nied the resource of slumber ; and there was nothing open for me but to pace the apartment, maintain the fire, and brood on my position. I compared yesterday and to- day — tlie safety, comfort, jollity, open-air exercise and pleasant roadside inns of the one, with the tedium, anx- iety, and discomfort of the other. I remembered that I was in the hands of Fenn, who could not b«^ more false — though he m.ight be more vindictive — than I fancied him. I looked forward to nights of pitching in the cov- ered cart, and days of monotony in I knew not what hiding-places ; and my heart failed me, and I was in two minds whether to slink off ere it was too late, and return to my former solitary way of travel. But the Colonel stood in the path. I had not seen much of him ; but al- ready I judged him a man of a childlike nature — with that sort of innocence and courtesy that, I think, is only to be found in old soldiers or old priests — and broken with years ;1i ■r n 140 ST. IVES and sorrow. I conld not turn my back on his distress ; could not leave him alone with the seliish trooper who snored on the next mattress. " Champdivers, my lad, your health ! " said a voice in my ear, and stopped me — and there arc few things I am more glad of in the retrospect than that it did. It must have been about fou" in the afternoon — at least the rain had taken olT, and the sun was setting Avith some wintry pomp — when the current of my reflections was ef- fectually changed by the arrival of two visitors in a gig. They were farmers of the neighbourhood, I suppose — big, burly fellows in great-coats and top-boots, mightily flushed with liquor when they arrived, and before they left, in- imitably drunk. They stayed long in the kitchen with BurchcU, drinking, shouting, singing, and keeping it up ; and the sound of their merry minstrelsy kept me a kind of company. If it was scarce tuneful, it was at least more so than the bestial snoring of the Major on the mattress. The night fell, and the shine of the fire brightened and blinked on the panelled wall. Our illuminated windows must have been visible not only from the back Hue of which Fenn had spoken, but from the court where the farmers' gig awaited them. When they should come forth, they must infallibly perceive the chamber to be tenanted ; and suppose them to remark upon the circumstance, it be- came a question whether Fenn was honest enough to wish to protect us, or would have sense enough left, after his long potations, to put their inquiries by. In the far end of the firelit room lay my companions, the one silent, the other clamorously noisy, the images of death and drunken- ness. Little wonder if I were tempted to join in the cho- ruses below, and sometimes could hardly refrain from laughter, and sometimes, I believe, from tears — so unmiti- gated was the tedium, so cruel the suspense, of this period. I MEET TWO OF MY COUNTRYMEN 141 At last, about six at night, T should fancy, the noisy minstrels appeared in the court, headed by Fenn with a lantern, and knocking together as they came. The vis- itors clambered noisily into the gig, one of them shook the reins, and they were snatched out of sight and hearing with a suddenness that partook of the nature of prodigy. I am well aware there is a Providence for drunken men, tliat holds the reins for them and presides over their trou- bles ; doubtless he had his work cut out for him with this particular gigful ! Fenn rescued his toes with an ejacu- lation from under the departing wheels, and turned at once with uncertain steps and devious lantern to the far end of the court. There, through the open doors of a coach-house, the shock-headed lad was already to be seen drawing forth the covered cart. If I wished any private talk with our host, it must be now or never. Accordingly I groped my way downstairs, and came to him as he looked on at and lighted the harnessing of the horses. " The hour approaches when we have to part," said I ; "and I shall be obliged if you will tell your t.rvant to drop me at the nearest point for Dunstable. I am de- termined to go so far with our friends. Colonel X and Major Y, but my business is peremptory, and it takes me to the neighbourhood of Dunstable." Orders were given, to my satisfaction, with an obsequi- ousness that seemed only inflamed by his potations. CHAPTER XIV TRAVELS OF THE COVERED CART My companions were aroused with difficulty : the Colonel poor old gentleman, to a sortof permanent dream, in which you could say of him only that he was very deaf and anx- iously pohte ; the Major still maudlin drunk. We had a dish of tea by the fireside, and then issued like criminals into the scathing cold of the night. For the weather had 111 the meantime changed. Upon the cessation of the rain a strict frost had succeeded. The moon, being young, was already near the zenith when we started, glittered every- Avhere on sheets of ice, and sparkled in ten thousand icicles A more unpromising night for a journey it was hard to conceive. But in the course of the afternoon the horses had been well roughed ; and King (for such was the name o± the shock-headed lad) was very positive that he could drive us without misadventure. He was as good as his word ; indeed, despite a gawky air, he was simply invalu- able in his present employment, showing marked sagacity m all that concerned the care of horses, and guiding us by one short cut after another for days, and without a fault. The interior of that engine of torture, the covered cart, was fitted wi . a bench, on which we took our places ; the door was shut ; in a moment, the night closed upon us solid and stifling ; and we felt that we were being driven carefully out of the courtyard. Careful was the word all niglit, and it was an alleviation of our miseries that we did 142 TRAVELS OF THE COVERED CART 143 not often enjoy. In general, as we were driven the oetter part of the night and day, often at a pretty quick puce and always through a labyrinth of the most infamous country lanes and by-roads, we were so bruised upon the bench, so dashed against the top and sides of the cart, that we reached the end of a stage in truly pitiable case, sometimes flung ourselves down without tiio formality of eaiing, made but one sleep of it until the hour of departure returned, and were only properly awakened by the first jolt of the re- newed journey. There were interruptions, at times, that we hailed as alleviations. At times the cart was bogged, once it was upset, and we must alight and lend the driver the assistance of our arms ; at times, too (as on the oc- casion when I had first encountered it), the horses gave out, and we had to trail alongside in mud or frost until the first peep of daylight, or the approach to a hamlet or a high road, bade us disappear like ghosts into our prison. The main roads of England are incomparable for ex- cellence, of a beautiful smoothness, very ingeniously laid down, and so well kept that in most weathers you could take your dinner off any part of them witliout distaste. On them, to the note of the bugle, the mail did its sixty miles a day; innumerable chaises whisked after the bobbing postboys ; or some young blood would flit by in a curricle and tandem, to the vast delight and danger of the lieges. On them, the slow-pacing waggons made a music of bells, and all day long the travellers on horseback and the travellers on foot (like happy Mr. St. Ives so little a while before !) kept coming and going, and baiting and gaping at each other, as though a fair were due, and they were gathering to it from all England. No, nowhere in the world is travel so great a pleasure as in that country. But unhappily our one need was to be secret ; and all this rapid and animated picture of the road swept quite apart 144 ST. IVES from us, as wc lumbered up hill and down dale, under hedge and over stone, among circuitous byways. Only twice did I receive, as it were, a whii! of the higliway. The first reached my curs alone. I miglit have been any- where. I only knew I was walking in the dark night and among ruts, when I heard very fur off, over the silent country that surrounded us, the guard's horn wailing its eignul to the next post-house for a change of horses. It was like the voice of the day heard in darkness, a voice of the world heard in prison, the note of a cock crowing in the mid-seas— in short, I cannot tell you what it was like, you will have to fancy for yourself— but I could have wei)t to hear it. Once we were belated : the cattle could hardly crawl, the day was at hand, it was a nipping, rigorous morning, King was lushing his horses, I was giving an arm to the old Colonel, and the Major was coughing in our rear. I must suppose that King was a thought careless, being nearly in desperation about his team, and, in spite of the cold morning, breathing hot with his exertions. We came, at last, a little before sunrise to the summit of a hill, and saw the high-road passing at right angles through an open country of meadows and hedgerow pollards ; and not only the York mail, speeding smoothly at the gallop of the four horses, but a post-chaise besides, with the post- boy titupping briskly, and the traveller himself putting his head out of the window, but whether to breathe the dawn, or the better to observe the passage of the mail, I do not know. So that we enjoyed for an instant a picture of free life on the road, in its most luxurious forms of despatch and comfort. And thereafter, with a poignant feeling of contrast in our hearts, we must mount again into our wheeled dungeon. We came to our stages at all sorts of odd hours, and they were in all kinds of odd places. I may say at once that TKAVHiLS OF THE COVKllKD CAUT 145 my first exporienco was my best. Nowliere again wore wo so well entertained as at ]iureliell Fenn's. And this, I suppose, was natural, and indeed inevitable, in so long and secret a journey. The first stop, wo lay six hours in a barn standing by itself in a poor, marshy orciiard, and l)acked with hay ; to make it more attractive, wo were told it had been the scene of an abominable murdir, and was now haunted. But the day was beginning to break, and our fatigue was too extreme for visionary terrors. The second or third, we .dighted on a barren heath about midnight, built a flro to warm uf? um^er the shelter of some thorns, supped like beggars on bread and a piece of cold bacon, and slept like gipsies with our feet to the fire. In the meanwhile, King was gone with the cart, 1 know not where, to get a change of horses, and it was late in the dark morning when he returned and we were able to re- sume our journey. In the middle of another night, we came to a stop by an ancient, whitewashed cottage of two stories; a privet hedge surrounded it; the frosty moon shone blankly on the upper windows ; but through those of the kitchen the firelight was seen glinting on the roof and reflected from the dishes on the wall. Here, after much hammering on the door, King managed to arouse an old crone from the chimney-corner chair, Avhcre she had been dozing in the watch ; and we were had in, and enter- tained with a dish of hot tea. Tliis old lady was an aunt of Burchell Fenn's— and an unwilling partner in his danger- ous trade. Though the house stood solitary, and the hour was an unlikely one for any passenger upon the road, King and she conversed in whispers only. There was something dismal, something of the sick-room, in this perpetual, guarded sibilation. Tiie apprehensions of our liostess in- sensibly communicated themselves to every one present. We ate like mice in a cat's ear ; if one of us jingled a tea- 10 140 ST. IVES spoon, all would start ; and when the hour canio to tuko tiie roud again, wo drew a long breath of relief, and climbed to our places in the covered cart with a positive sense of escape. The most of our meals, however, were taken boldly at hedgerow alehouses, usually at untimely hours of the day, when the clients were in the tield or the farmyard at labour. 1 shall have to tell present ! y of our last ex- perience of the sort, and how unfortunately it miscarried ; but as that was the signal for my separation from my fellow- travellers, I must first Ihiish with them. I had never any occasion to Avavcr in my first judgment of the Colonel. The old gentleman seemed to me, and still seems in the retrospect, the salt of the earth. I had occasion to see him in the extremes of hardship, hunger and cold ; he was dying, and he looked it ; and yet I can- not remember any hasty, harsh, or impatient word to have fallen from his lips. On the contrary, he ever showed himself careful to please ; and even if ho rambled in his talk, rambled always gently — like a humane, half-witted old hero, true to his colours to the last. I would not dare to say how often he awoke suddenly from a lethargy, and told us again, as though we had never heard it, the story of how he had earned the cross, how it had been given him by the hand of the Emperor, and of the innocent — and, indeed, foolish — sayings of his daughter when he returned with it on his bosom. He had another anecdote which he was very apt to give, by way of a rebuke, when the Major wearied us beyond endurance with dispraises of the Eng- lish. This was an account of the braves gens Avith whom he had been boarding. True enough, he was a man so simple and grateful by nature, that the most common civilities were able to touch liim to the heart, and would remain written in his memory ; but from a thousand in- considerable but conclusive indications, I gathered that TRAVELS OF THE COVERED CART 147 \ this family had really loved him, and loaded him with kindness. They made a fire in his bedroom, which the sons and daughters tended with their own hands ; letters from France were looked for with scarce more eagerness by himself than \)j ihc io alien sympathisers; when they came, he would r«ad th.^n aloud in the parlour to the assembled family, v unalut/ngas he wont. The Colonel's English was elenu tary; liis daughter not in the leas^. likely to be an amus;iig correspondent ; and, as I conceived these scenes in the parlour, I felt sure the interest centred in the Colouid himself, and I thought I could feel in my own heart that mixture of the ridiculous and the pathetic, the contest of tears and laughter, which must have shaken the bosoms of the family. Their kindness had continued till the end. It appears they were privy to his flight, the camlet cloak had been lined expressly for him, and he was the bearer of a letter from the daugliter of the house to his own daugliter in Paris. Tiie last evening, when the time came to say good-night, it was tacitly known to all that they were to look upon his face no more. He rose, plead- ing fatigue, and turned to the daughfrv, who had been his chief ally :.'*You Avill permit me, my dear— to an old and very unhappy soldier— and may Cod bless you for your goodness !" The girl threw her arms about his neck and sobbed upon his bosom ; the lady of the house burst into tears ; " ef je rous hjure, le pere semovchait ! " quoth the Colonel, twisting his moustaches with a cavalry air, and at the same time blinking the water from his eyes at the mere recollection. It was a good thought to me that he had found these friends in captivity ; that he had started on this fatal jour- ney from so cordial a farewell. He had broken his parole for his daughter : that he should ever live (o reach her sick bed, that he could continue to endure to an end the 148 ST. IVES hardships, the crushing fatigue, the savage cold, of our pilgnmage, I had early ceased to hope. I did for him what I was able,-„„rsed him, kept him covered, watched over h,s slumbers, sometimes held him iu my ar^s at he " ™t at"^"' "" T'- " «>™P'«vers, Ae once sa yoil are hke a son to me-like a son." It is good to re member, though at the time it put me on the Sck AM was to no purpose. Fast as we' were travel ingtowa^ wr^bailvT '"™"'"« '-'- '"" t» -'O'hef desti* t on. Daily he grew weaker and more indifferent. An old rustic accent of Lower Normandy reappeared in Z speech, from which it had long been banished, and grew ronger; old words of tU patois, too: ouisleha,„^,Z tr„Me and others, the sense of which we were sometimes unable to guess On the very last day he began aga 1 eternal story of the cross and the Emperor. SheXio who was parbcularly ill, or at least particularly cro^ut: red some angry words of protest. " PanlonneLoi, ,, . ZodV'"'^ 'r" "'"'* ^"""- "«««'■""■/' said the Coonel. "Monsieur has not yet henrd the circumstance and IS good enough to feel an interest." Presently, aft ' however, he began to lose the thread of his narrative .nd a las : " Quetuefai? Je n^e,„lroume ! " says he, "C' nt: smaUdonm, ,t Bmihe en ttait iicn conienfe" It stutir d°:^r """^ -' '-^ "'--'^ - ^-^^ -^-'-^ ■" «- Sure enough, in but a little while after, he fell into a sleep a, gentle as an infant's, which insensibly clmfged m to the sleep of death. I had my arm about his My at the time and remarked nothing, unless it were that he once s retched himself a little, so kindly the end came o that disastrous life. It was only at our evening C^i'^, the Major and I discovered we were travelling lone wUh the poor clay. That night we stole a spade from a fldd- TRAVELS OF THE COVERED CART 149 I think near Market Bosworth-and a little farther on in a wood of young oak trees and by the liglit of King's Ian tern, we buried the old soldier of the Empire with both prayers and tears. We had needs invent Heaven if it Lad not been revealed to us ; there are some things that fall so bitterly ill on this side Time ! As for the Major, I have long since forgiven him. He broke the news to the poor Colonel's daughter • I am told he did it kindly ; and s re, nobody could have done It without tears ! His share of Purgatory will be brief ; and in this world, as I could not very well praise him, I have suppressed his name. The Colonel's also, for the sake of his parole. Requiescant. and CHAPTER XV THE ADVENTUUE 01-' THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK I HAVE nitMitioncd our usiuil course, wliicli was to eat in incon.«uIcrable wayside liostelrios, known to King. It was a dangerous business : we wont daily under lire to satisfy our appetite, and put our head in the lion's mouth for a piece of bread. Sometimes, to minimise the risk, we would all dismount before we came in view of tiie house straggle in severally, and give what orders we pleased, like disconnected strangers. In like manner we departed, to imd the cart at an appointed place, some half a mile bo^ yond. The Colonel and the Major had each a word or two of English,— (Jod help their pronunciation ! Jiut they did well enough to order a rasher and a pot or call a mck- omng ; and, to say truth, these country folks did not give themselves the pains, and liad scarce the knowledge, to be critical. About nine or ten at night the pains of hunger and cold drove us to an alehouse in the flats of Bedfordshire, not far from P-Mlford itself. In the inn kitchen Mas a long, lean, characteristic-looking fellow of perhaps forty, dressed in bhack. He sat on a settle by the fireside, smoking a long' pipe, such as they call a yard of clay. His hat and wig were hanged upon the knob behind him, liis head as bald as a bladder of lard, and his expression very shrewd, cantan- kerous, and inquisitive. He seemed to value himself above his company, to give himself the airs of a man of the world 150 ADVENTURK OP THE ATTORNEY'S CLSRK IHl among that rustic herd ; whicli was often no more thtui his due ; being, as I afterwards discovoi-ed, an attorney's clerk. I took upon myself the more ungrateful part of ar- riving last ; and by tlie time I entered on the scene the Major was already rved at a side taijle. Some general conversation must liave passed, and I smelled danger in the air. The Major looked llustered, the afctorney's°clerk triumphant, and the three or four peasants in smock- frocks (who sat about the fire to play chorus) liad let their pipes go out. "Give you good evening, sir!" said the attorney's clerk to me. "The same to you, sir," said I. " I think this one will do," quoth the clerk to the yokels with a wink ; and then, as soon as I had given my order, " Pray, sir, whither are you bound ? " he added. " 8ir," said I, '^ am not one of those who speak either of their business or their destination in houses of public entertainment." " A good answer," said he, " and an excellent principle. Sir, do you speak P'rench ? " "Why, no, sir," said I. "A little Spanish at your service. " " But you know the French accent, perhaps ?" said the clerk. " Well do I do that ! " said I. " The French accent ? Why, I believe I can tell a Frenchman in ten words." " Here is a puzzle for you, then ! " he said. " I have no material doubt myself, but some of these gentlemen are more backward. The lack of education, you know. I make bold to say that a man cannot walk, cannot hear, and cannot see, without the blessings of education." He turned to the Major, whose food plainly stuck in his throat. 162 ST. IVES I " Now, sir," pursued tlie clerk, " let me have the pleas- ure to licar your voice again. Whei'c are you goiuff did you say ? " » e> " Sare, I am go— ing to Lon— don," said the Major I could liave flung my plate at him to be such an ass and to have so little a gift of languages where that was the essential. "What think ye of that ?" said the clerk, '^s that French enougli ?" - Good God ! " cried I, '- .,^.ng up like one who should suddenly perceive an acquamlance, " is this you, Mr. Du- bois ? Wh3', who would have dreamed of encountering you so far from home ? " As I spoke, I shook hands with the Major heartily ; and turning to our tormentor " sir, you may be perfectly reassured ! This is a very honest fellow, a lute neighbo a- of mine in the city of Carlisle." I tho'ight tlie attorney looked put out ; I knew little the man ! "But he is French," said he, "for all that ?" " Ay, to be sure ! " said I. " A Frenchman of the emi- gration ! None of your Buonaparte lot. I will warrant lus views cf politics to be as sound as your own." " What is a little strange," said the clerk quietly, " is that Mr. Dubois should deny it." I got it fair in the face, and took it smiling ; but the shock was rude, and in the course of the next words I contrived to do what I have rarely done and make a slip in iny English. I kept my liberty and life by my proficiency all these months, and for once timt I failed, it is not to be supposed that I would make a public exhibition of the de- tails Enough, that it was a very little error, and one that might have passed ninety-nine times in a hundred. But my limb of the law was as swift to pick it up as though he had been by trade a master of languages. ADVENTUKI5 OF TilK ATTOKNEY's CLKKK W'S "Aha! "cries he; -and you are French, too! Your tongue bewrays you. Two Fronclunen coming into an ale- house, several y and accidentally, not knowing each other, at ten of the clock at night, in tlie middle of Bedfordshire > No, sir, that shall not pass ! You are all prisoners escap- ing, If you are nothing worse. Consider yourselves under arrest I have to trouble you fo- your papers." Where is your warrant, if you come to that ?" said I My papers ! A likely thing that I would show my pa^ Eousef" '^''''"'' "' "^ ""'"°"" '^"^" '"^^-^g« " Would you resist the law ? " says he -Not the law, sir," said I. - 1 hope I am too good a ubject for that. But for a nameless fellow with a bald head and a pair of gingham small-clothes, why, certainly ! lis my birthright as an Englishman. Where's Magna (Jliarta, else ? " ^ ^ " VYe will see about that," says he ; and then, address- ing the assistants, '' where does the constable live V" ''Lord love you, sir !" cried the landlord, -what are you tlunking of ? The constable at past ten at night ! VV iiy, he s abed and asleep, and good and drunk two hours agone ! " "Ah, that a' be ! " came in chorus from the yokels. ihe attorney's clerk was put to a stand. lie could not think of force ; there was little si.-, of martial ardour about the landlord, and the peasaiM ■: were inditferen - they only listened, and gaped, and now scratched a head Hud now would get a light to their pipes from the embers on the hearth. On the other hand, the Major and I put a bold front on the business and defied him, not without some ground of law. In this state of matters he proposed , 1 should go along with him to one Squire Merton, a great man of tlie neighbourhood, who was in the commission of 154 ST. IVKS the peace, and the ^-nd of hif). avenue but three hines away. I told liim I would uot stir u loot for him if it were to Ra\b liis soul. Next he proposed I .should sta> all night where 1 was, and i!ie consta,ble could see to my affair in Uie morn- ing, when lie was sober. I replied i siioidd go when and v.here T pleased ; that we were lawful travellers in the fear of fk>d itnd the kiug, and I for one would suffer myself to be atav'^il Ijy nobody. At the same time, I was thinking the ni!i(ter had lasted altogether too long, and I determined to bring it to an end at once. "See here," said I, getting up, for t'll now I had re- mained carelessly seated, "there's only oiie way to decide a thing like this — only one way that's right English — and tliat's man to man. 'J'ake off' your coat, sir, and these gen- tlemeii shall see fair play." At this there came a look in his eye that 1 could not mis- take. His education had been neglected in one essential and eminently British particular : he could not box. No more could I, you may say ; but then I had the more im- pudence — and I had made the proposal. " He says I'm no Englishman, but the proof of the pud- ding is the eating of it," I continued. And here I stripped my coat and fell into the proper attitude, which was Just about all I knew of this barbarian art. "Why, sir, you seem to me to hang back a little," said I. " Come, I'll meet you ; I'll give yon an appetiser— though hang me if I can understand the man that wants any enticement to hold up his hands." I drew a bank-no ait of my fob and tossed it to the landlord. " There ,, . the stakes," said I. • .'11 fight you for first b'.v. ;1 ce you seem to make so ■ ; ;h work about it. If Vi>;i tu^- my claret first, there are five guineas for you, and I U go with you to any squire you choose to mention. If I tajt y-nrs, you'll per- haps let on that I'm the better man, anu -'iow me to go ADVENTUIIE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 155 about my lawful business at my own time and convenience, by God ! Is that fair, my lads ?" says J, ai)pealing to the company. " %> ay/' said the chorus of chaAvbacons ; " he can't say no fairer nor that, lie can't. Take thy coat off, master ! " The limb of the law was now on the wrong side of public opinion, and, what heartened me to go on, the position was rapidly changing in our fiivour. Already the Major was paying his shot to the very indifferent landlord, anil 1 could sec the white face of King at the back door, mak- ing signals of haste. " Oho ! " quoth my enemy, *' you are as full of doubles as a fox, arc you not ? But I see through you ; I see tii rough and through you. You would change the venue, would you ? " "I may be transparent, sir," says I, "but if you'll do me the favour to stand up, you'll find I can hit damn hard." '* Which is a point, if you will observe, that I have never called in question," said he. " Why, you ignorant clowns," ho proceeded, addressing the company, "can't you see the fellow is gulling you before your eyes ? Can't you see that he's changed the point upon me ? I say he's a French prisoner, and he answers tliat he can box ! What has that to do with it ? I would not wonder but what he can dance, too— they're all dancing masters over there. I say, and I stick to it, that he's a Frenchy. He says ho isn't. Well, then, let him out with his papers, if he has them ! If he had, would he not show them ? If he had, would he not jump at the idea of going to Squire Merton' a man you all know ? Now, you're all plain, straightfor- ward Bedfordshire men, and I wouldn't ask a better lot to appeal to. You're not the kind to be talked over with any French gammon, and he's plenty of that. But let me tel} im ST. IVES him, he can take his pigs to another market ; they'll never do here; they'll never go down in Bedfordshire. Why, look at the man ! Look at his feet ! Has anybody got a foot in the room like that ? See how he stands ! do iiriy of you fellows stand like that ? Does the landlord, there ? Why, he has Frenchman wrote all over him, as big as a sign-post ! " This was all very well ; and in a different scene, I miglit even have been gratified by his remarks ; but I saw clearly, if I were to allow him to talk, he might turn the tables on me altogether, lie might not be much of a hand at box- ing ; but I was much mistaken, or he had studied forensic eloquence in a good school. In this predicament, I could think of nothing more ingenious than to burst out of the house, under the pretext of an ungovernable rage. It was certainly not very ingenious— it was elementary ; but I had no choice. " You white-livered dog ! " I broke out. '* Do yon dare to tell me you're an Englishman, and won't fight ? But I'll stand no more of this ! I leave this place, where I've been insulted! Here! what's to pay? Pay yourself!" I went on, offering the landlord a handful of silver, " and give me back my bank-note ! " The landlord, following his usual policy of obliging everybody, offered no opposition to my design. The posi- tion of my adversary was now thoroughly bad. He had lost my two companions. He was on the point of losing me also. There was plainly no hope of arousing the company to help ; and, watching him with a corner of my eye, I saw him hesitate for a moment. The next, he had taken down his hat and his wig, which was of black horsehair ; and I saw him draw from behind the settle a vast hooded great- coat and a small valise. •'•'The devil!" thought I: "is the rascal going to follow me ? " ADVENTUKK OF THK ATTOKNKY's CLERK 157 I was scarce clear of tlie inn before the limb of the law was at my heels. I saw his face plain in the moonlight; M the most resolute purpose showed in it, along with an unmoved composure. A chill went over me. " This is no common adventure/' thinks I to myself. '' You have got hold of a man of character, St. Ives ! A bite-hard, a bull- dog, a weasel is on your trail ; and how are you to throw him oif ?" Who was he ? By some of his expressions I judged he was a hanger-on of courts. But in what charac- ter had he followed the assizes ? As a simple spectator, as a lawyer's clerk, as a criminal himself, or— last and worst supposition— as a Bow-street "runner" ? The cart would wait for me, perhaps, half a mile down our onward road, which I was already following. And I told myself that in a few minutes' walking, Bow-strept "runner" or not, I should have him at my mercy. A;,d then reflection came to me in time. Of all things, one was out of the question. Upon no account must this obtrusive fellow see the cart. Until I had killed or shook him off, I was quite divorced from my companions— alone, in the midst of England, on a frosty by-way leading whither I knew not, with a sleuth-hound at my heels, and never a friend- but the holly-stick ! We came at the same time to a crossing of lanes. The branch to the left was overhung with trees, deep] • ?irr,ken and dark. Not a ray of moonlight penetrated its recesses ; and I took it at a venture. The wretch followed my ex- ample in silence ; and for some time we crunched together over frozen pools without a word. Then he found his voice, with a chuckle. " This is not the way to Mr. Morton's," said he, '* No ? " said I. " It is mine, however." " And therefore mine," said he. Again we fell silent ; and we may thus have covered half >M^^t'm^ im ST. IVES l!:i' a nnle before the lane, taking a sud.len turn, brouglit us for 1, apun into the moonshi.ie. With his hooded great-coat on his back. Ins valiso in hi« huud, his black wig adjusted, and footing it on the ice with a sort of sober dogc^edness of manner n.y onemy was changed almost beyond recognition • changed ,n everything but a certain dry, polemical, pedan- tic air, that spoke of a sedentary occupation and high stools. I observed, too that his valise was heavy ; and, putting this and that together, hit upon a i)lan. '; A seasonable night, sir," said I. - What do you say to a bit of running ? The frost has me by the toes." '' With all the pleasure in life," says'he. His voice seemed well assured, which pleased -le little However, there was nothing else to try, except violence, for which It would always be too soon. I took to my heels accordingly, he after me ; and for some time the slappincr of our foet on the hard road might have been heard a mile away. He had started a pace behind me. and he Hnislied in l.e same position. For all his extra years and the weight ot his valise, he Jiad not lost a hair's breadth. The devil might race him for me- had enough of it ! And, L ides, tu run so lust was contrary to my interests. We could not run long without arriving somewhere. At any moment ve miglit turn a corner • nd find ourselves at the lodge-gate of some Squire Merton, in the midst of a vil age whose constable was .ober, or in the bauds uf a patrol. Ihere was no h^lp fe: .t-1 must finish with him on the spot, as long as il . possible. I looked about me, and the place seemed su .ie .ever a light, never a hou. o- nothing butstubble-t. .ds, fahows, and a feu stunted trees. 1%P'^ ^"^ '^"'^ ^""^ '^ *''e moonlight with an angry stare ''Enough of this foolery ! " said I. « J' ^^e. ^ He had turned, and now faced mc full, very pale, but With no sign of shrinking. ^ ADVKNTUIJE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLEUK 159 ''I am qiiito of your opinion," said he. "You huvo tried mo at the running ; you can try me next at tlie high jump. It will be jill the same. It must end the one way." I made my holly whistle about my head. "I believe you know wiiat way!" said I. "We are alone, it is night, and I am wholly resolved. Are you not frightened?" " Ko," he huid, " not in the smallest. I do not box, sir ; but I am not a coward, as you may have supposed. Per- haps it will simplify our relations if I tell you at the outset that I walk armed." Quick as lightning I made a feint at his head ; as quickly he gave ground, and at the same time I saw a pistol glitter in his hand. " No more of that, Mr. French-Prisoner ! " he said. "It will do mo no good to luive your death at my door." " Faith, nor mo either ! " said I ; and I l(>wered my stick and considered the man, not without a twinkle of admira- tion. " You SCO,'" I said, " there is one consideration that you appear to overlook : there are a great many chances that your pistol may miss fire." " I have a i)air," he returned. " Never travel without a brace of barkers." " I make you my compliment," saul I. •■ You are able to take care of youi'self, and that is a ghud trait. But, my good man ! lot us look at this mutter dispassionately. You are not a coward, and no more am I ; we aie both men of excellent sense ; I have good reason, whatever it may be, to keep my concerns to myself and to u alk alone. Now. I put it to you pointedly, am I likely to stand it ? Am I likely to put up with your continued and— excuse me— highly impu'.ent inc/rrcnce ijit<. my private afTairs ?" " Another French word," says he composedly. 160 AT. IVES ••Oldrrun your I'Vendi words !" cried I. " Yon soem to bo Ji Frencliniiui yourself !" *• I hiivf had many oi)i)ortunitio8, l)y wliich 1 Imvo profltoil," he o.xpluiued. '• Few men are bettor acquainted with tiie HunilaritiesanddilTerences, whetiier of idiom or accent, of the two languages." '* You are a jwinpous fellow, too ! " aaid I. "0, I can niako distinctions, sir," says he. "I can talk with Medfordahire peasants; and 1 can express nysclf becomingly. 1 hope, in the company of a gentleman of edu- cation like yourself." '•if you set up to be a gentleman " I began. •' Pardon mo," he interrupted : " 1 make no such claim I only see tlio nobility and gentry in the way of business. 1 am quite a phun person." " For the Lord's sake," I exclaimed, ''set my mind at rest upon one point. In the name of mystery, who and wJiatare you "i" *' I have no cause to bo ashamed of my name, sir," said he, - nor yet my trade. I am Tliomas Dudgeon, at your service, clerk to Mr. Daniel Komaine, solicitor of London: iligJi llolborn is our a(hlress, sir." It was only by the ecstasy of the relief that I knew how horribly I had been frightened. I flung my stick on the road. "Komaine?" I cried. -Daniel Romaine .? An old hunks with a red face and a big head, and got up like a Quaker ? My dear friend, to my arms ! " " Keep back, I say ! " said Dudgeon weakly. I would not listen to him. With the end of my own alarm, I felt as if I must infallibly be at the end of all dangers likewise ; as if the pistol that he held in one hand were no more to be feared than the valise that he carried with the other, and now put up like a barrier against my advance. I ADVKNTUIIE OF TIIK ATTOUNEY'S CLEHK 161 "Keep back, or I deolure I will fire," ho wus crying. " Have a caro, for God'a nnko ! My pistol " Ho might scream a8 ho pleased. Willy nilly, I folded him to my breast, I pressed him there, 1 kissed his ugly mug as it had never been kissed before and would never be kissed again ; and in the doing so knocked his wig awry and his hat oil. Ho bleated in my embrace ; so bleats the fiheep in the arms of the butcher. The whole thing, on looking back, appears incomparaldy reckless and absurd ; I no better than a madman for olfcring to advance on Dudgeon, and he no better than a fool for not shooting me wbilo I was about it. JJut all's well that ends well ; or, as the ])eoplo in these days kept singing and whistling oil the streets : — " There's a sweet little clierub tiiat sits up aloft, And looks out for the life of poor Jack." ** There ! " said I, releasing him a little, but still keep- ing my hands on his shoulders, "./c vans ai bel et Men em- bmssc-^ml, as you would say, there is another French word With his wig over one eye, he looked incredibly rueful and put out. - Cheer up, Dudgeon ; the ordeal is over, you shall be embraced no more. JJut do, first of all, for God's sake, put away your pistol ; you handle it as if It were a cockatrice ; some time or other, depend upon it. It will certainly go oflF. Here is your hat. No, let me put It on square, and the wig before it. Never suffer any stress of circumstances to come between you and the duty you owe to yourself. If you have nobody else to dress for, dress for God : Put your wig straight On your bald pate, Keep your <-hin scraped, And your figure draped. 11 162 ST. IVES Can you match me that ? The wliolo duty of man in a quatrain ! And remark, I do not set up to be a profes- sional bard ; these are the outpourings of a dilettante." " But, my dear sir ! " he exclaimed. ''But, my dear sir \" I echoed, "I will allow no man to interrupt tlie flow of my ideas. Give me your opinion on my quatrain, or I vow we shall have a quarrel of it." " Certainly you are quite an original," he said. " Quite," said I ; "and I believe I have my counterpart before me." " Well, for a choice," says he, smiling, "and M'hether for sense or poetry, give me " ' Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow : The rest is all but leather and pruuello.' " " 0, but that's not fair — that's Pope ! It's not origi- nal. Dudgeon. Understand me," said I, wringing his breast-button, " the first duty of all poetry is to be mine, sir — mine. Inspiration now swells in my bosom, because — to tell you the plain truth, and descend a little in style — I am devilish relieved at the turn things have taken So, I daresay, are you yourself, Dudgeon, if you would only allow it. And a propos, let me ask you a home question. Between friends, have you ever fired that pis- tol?" "Why, yes, sir," he replied. "Twice— at hedgespar- rows." " And you would have fired at me, you bloody-minded man ?" I cried. " If you go to that, you seemed mighty reckless with your stick," said Dudgeon. " Did I indeed ? Well, well, 'tis all past history ; ancient as King Pharamond — which is another French word, if you cared to accumulate more evidence," says I. ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 163 "But liapiDily we are now the best of friends, and have all our iiiterests in common." " You go a little too fast, if you'll excuse me, Mr. : I do not know your name, that I am aware," said Dud- geon. " :N'o, to be sure ! " said I. " Never heard of it ! " '' A word of explanation " he began. '' No, Dudgeon ! " I interrupted. - Be practical ; I know what you want, and the name of it is supper. Rie?i ne creuse comme Vemotion. I am lumgry myself, and yet I am more accustomed to warlike palpitations than you, who are but a hunter of hedgesparrows. Let me look at your face critically : your bill of fare is three slices of cold rare roast beef, a Welsh rarebit, a pot of stout, and a glasp or two of sound tawny port, old in bottle— the right milk of Englishmen." Melhought there seemed a brightening in his eye and a melting about his mouth at this enum^'era- tion. "The night is young," I continued; ''not much past eleven, for a wager. Where can we lind a good inn ? And remark that I say good, for the port must be up to the oc- casion — not a headache in a pipe of it." " Eeally, sir," he said, smiling a little, '' you have a way of carrying things " " Will nothing make you stick to the subject ? " T cried ; '' you have the most irrelevant mind ! How do you expect to rise in your profession ? The inn ? " "Well, I will say you are a facetious gentleman !" said he. "You must have your way, I see. We are not three miles from Bedford by this very road." " Done ! " cried I. " Bedford be it ! " T tucked his arm under mine, possessed myself of the valise, and walked him uif unresisting. Presently we came to an open piece of count'.-y lying a thought down hill. 1G4 ST. IVES The road was smooth and free of ice, the moonshine thin and briglit over the meadows and the leafless trees. I was now lionestly done with tlie purgatory of the covered cart ; I was close to my great-uncle's ; I had no more fear of Mr i:>udgeon; which were all grounds enough for jollity. And I was aware, besides, of us two as of a pair of tiny and solitary dolls under the vast frosty cupola of the midnight • the rooms decked, the moon burnished, tlie least of the stars lighted, the floor swept and waxed, and nothing want- ing but for the band to strike up and tlie dancing to be- gni. In the exhilaration of my heart I took the music on myself — » Merrily danced the Quaker's wife, And merrily danced the Quaker." I broke into that animated and appropriate air, clapped mv arm about Dudgeon's waist, and away down the hill at a dancing step ! He hung back a little at the start, but the impulse of the tune, the night, and my example, were not to be resisted. A man made of putty must have danced, and even Dudgeon showed himself to be a human boincr Higher and higher were the capers that wo cut ; the mooll repeated in shadow our antic footsteps and gestures • and It came over my mind of a sudden-really like balm-what appearance of man I was dancing with, what a long bilious countenance he had shown under his shaven pate, and what a world of trouble the rascal had given me in the imme- diate past. Presently we began to see the lights of Bedford. My Puritanic companion stopped and disengaged himself. " This is a trifle infra dig., sir, is it not ? " said he.' " A party might suppose we had been drinking." '* And so ynn sliall be, Dudgeon," said I. " You shall not only be drinking, you old hypocrite, but you shall be My ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 165 drunk— dead drunk, sir— and the boots shall put you to bed ! We'll warn him when we go in. Never neglect a pre- caution ; never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day ! " But ho had no more frivolity to complain of. We finished our stage and came to the inn-door with decorum to find the house still alight and in a bustle with many late arrivals ; to give our orders with a prompt severity which ensured obedience, and to be served soon after at a ^ide table, close to the fire and in a blaze of candle-light, with such a meal as I had been dreaming of for days past. For days, you are to remember, I had been skulking in the covered cart, a prey to cold, hunger, and an accumulation of discomforts that might have daunted the most brave • and the wliitc table napery, the bright crystal, the rever- beration of the fire, the red curtains, the Turkey cari)et, tlie portraits on the coffee-room wall, the placid faces of the two or three late guests who were silently prolonging the pleasures of digestion, and (last, but not by any means least) a glass of an excellent light dry port, put me in a humour only to be described as heavenly. The thought of tlic Colonel, of how he would have enjoyed this snug room and roaring fire, and of his cold grave in the wood by Market Bosworth, lingered on my palate, a mari aliqua, like an after-taste, but was not able— I say it with shame- entirely to dispel my self-complacency. After all, in this world every dog hangs by its own tail. I was a free ad- venturer, who had Just brought to a successful end-or at least, within view of it— an adventure very difficult Ind alarming ; and I looked across at Mr. Dudgeon, as the port rose to his cheeks, and a smile, that was semi-confidential and a trifle foolish, began to play upon liis io..,t}iery feat ures not only with composure, 'but with a 'suspicion of feindness. The rascal had been brave, a quality for which 166 ST. IVES I would value the devil ; and if l,e had been pertinacious m^the begm„.„g, ho had ,„,re than ,„ado up L- it befo"e '• And now Dudgeon, to explain," I began. ' I know '•Oho!" quoth Dudgeon, ■• I begin to see." I ■■"" ';f tily glad of it," said I, passing the bottle because that ,s about all I can tell yo yl, n„,.7 LI H ;:: d»^^ i'et,Tr""T- ■ ^^^^^'^'^^^^"^ ow to il,gh Holborn, and confront rao with Mr Eomai,,,. • • rkfti; ,°',"'f.' "",' '"^ '" -'y-^iMatr St-" d o malse the hol.est disorder in your master's plans If I i„d<^" you anght (for I fl„d you a shrewd fellow' thi^ w" n tt at all to your m.nd. You know what a subordinate ^ets Ix^ notTtTl'Th;; 'r\ t"f ""^ """""■■^' °"J «-^S h^ not at all the face that I should care to see in anger • and I venture to predict surprising results upon you ^ ek,' salary_,f you are paid by the week, tha is. In short let do7°a dVs'td" "V"""'"'^ -""-^ take^TL™! oon, and tis only a beginning-and, by my ouinion „ " And?, t '""""• ^™ '="" "-^ y°" choice' "' And that IS soon taken," said he. " Go to Amerslnm to-morrow, or go to the devil if you nrefer /","'"" hands of you and the whole tranrtioT k^ yl^ don( find me pnttmg my head in between Eomaine and Icl n ' f.S^nh:'s:x=i^;j^:x— -^^ '' That reminds me," said I. « T havp .. „-„„+ ,-.._-• ., -a you oau satisfy it. Why .erey^uso-f.;^^*;"^ ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 167 with poor Mr. Dubois ? Why did yon transfer your atten- tions to me ? And generally, what induced you to make yourself such a nuisance ?" He blushed deeply. '' Why, sir," says he, '' there is such a thing as patriot- ism, I hope." CHAPTER XVI THE HOME-COMING OF MR. KOWLEY's VISCOUNT By eight the next morning Dudgeon and I had made our parting. By that time we had grown to be extremely famihar ; and I would very willingly have kept him by me, and even carried him to Amersham Place. But it appeared he was due at the public-house whore we had met, on some aifairs of my great-uncle the Count, who had an outlying estate in tluit part of the shire. If Dud- geon had liad his way the night before, I should have been arrested on my uncle's land and by my uncle's agent, a culmination of ill-luck. ^ ' nf n ^^"|\f *"^,r°" ^ started, in a hired chaise, by way o Dunstable. The mere mention of the name Ameisham Place made every one supple and smiling. It was plainly a great house, and my uncle lived there in style. The fame of it rose as we approached, like a chain of moun- they crawled upon their bellies. I thought the landlady would have kissed me ; such a flutter of cordiality, such smiles, such affectionate attentions were called forth, and the good lady bustled on my service in such a pother of ringlets and with such a jingling of keys. <' You're prob- ably expected, sir, at the Place ? I do trust you may ave better accounts of his lordship's 'elth, sir. We unde- stood that his lordship, Mosha de Carw^ll, wag m-^ had Ha, sir. we shall all feel his loss, pooi.; dear, noble gen-' 168 ^ li MR. Rowley's viscount 169 *■ tleman ; and I'm sure nobody more polite ! They do say, sir, his wealth is enormous, and before the Revolution quite a prince in his own country ! But I beg your paiv don, sir ; 'ow I do run on, to be sure ; and doubtless all beknown to you already ! For you do resemble the fam- ily, sir. I should have known you anywheres by the like- ness to the dear viscount. Ha, poor gentleman, he must ave a eavy 'eart these days." In the same place I saw out of the inn windows a man- servant passing in the livery of my house, which you are to think I liad never before seen worn, or not that I could remember. I Imd often enough, indeed, pictured myself advanced to be a Marshal, a Duke of the Empire, a Grand Cross of the Legion of Honour, and some other kick- shaws of the kind, with a perfect rout of flunkeys correctly dressed in my own colours. But it is one thing to im- agine and another to see ; it would be one thing to have these liveries in a house of my own in Paris-it was quite another to find them flaunting in the iieart of hostile Eng- lana ; and I fear I should have made a fool of myself if the man had not been on the other side of the street, and I at a one-pane window. There was something illusory in this transplantation of the wealth and honours of a family n thing by its nature so deeply rooted in the soil; some- tliing ghostly in this sense of home-coming so far from From Dunstable I rode away into a crescendo of similar impressions. There are certainly few things to be com- pared with these castles, or rather country seats, of the English nobihty and gentry ; nor anything at all to equal tiie servility of the population that dwells in their neigh- bourhood. Though I was but driving in a hired chaise, ^vord of my destination seemed to have gone abroad, and the women curtseyed and the men louted to me by the 170 ST. IVES wayside. As I came near, I began to appreciate the roots of this widespread respect. The look of my uncle's park wall, even from the outside, had something of a princely character ; and when I came in view of the house itself, a Kort of madness of vicarious vain-glory struck me dumb and kept nie staring. It was about the size of the Tuile- ries. It faced due north ; and the last rays of the sun, that was setting like a red-hot shot amidst a tumultuous gath- ering of snow clouds, were reflected on nhe endless rows of windows. A portico of Doric columns adorned the front, and would have done honour to a temple. The servant who received me at the door was civil to a fault— I had al- most said, to offence ; and the hall to which he admitted me through a pair of glass doors was warmed and already partly lighted by a liberal chimney heaped with the roots of beeches. " Vicomte Anne de St. Yves," said I, in answer to the man's question ; whereupon he bowed before me lower still, and stepping upon one side introduced me to the truly aw- ful presence of the major domo. I have seen many digni- taries in my time, but none who quite equalled this emi- nent being; who was good enough to answer to the unassuming name of " Mr." Dawson. Froin him I learned that my uncle was extremely low, a doctor in close attend- ance, Mr. Romaine expected at any moment, and tha' my cousin, the Yicomte de St. Yves, had been sent for the same morning. *' It was a sudden seizure, then ? " I asked. Well, he would scarcely go as far as that. It was a de- cline, a fading away, sir ; but he was certainly took bad the day before, had sent for Mr. Romaine, and the major domo had taken it on himself a little later to send word to the Viscount. "It seemed to me. mvlord." said h.ft " as if this was a time when all the fambly should be called together." MR. ROWLEY' b TSCOUNT 171 I approved him with my lips, but not in my heart. Dawson was plainly in the interests of my cousin. " And when can I expect to see my great-uncle, tiie Count ? " said I. In tiie evening, I was told ; in the meantime he would show me to my room, which had been long prepared for me, and I should be expected to dine in about an hour witli the doctor, if my lordship had no objections. My lordship had not the faintest. "At the same time," I said, "I have had an accident • I have unhappily lost my baggage, and am here in what I stand in. I don't know if tlie doctor be a formalist, but it IS quite impossible I should ai>pear at table as I ought." He begged me to be under no anxiety. " We have been long expecting you," said he. " All is ready." Such I found to be the trutli. A great room had been prepared for me ; through the mullioned windows the last flicker of the winter sunset interchanged with the reverber- ation of a royal fire ; the bed was open, a suit of evening clothes was airing before the blaze, and from the far corner a boy came forward with deprecatory smiles. The dream in which I had been moving seemed to have reached its pitch. I might have quitted this house and room only the night before ; it was my own place that I had come to • and for the first time in my life I understood the force of the words home and welcome. "This will be all as you would want, sir ?" said Mr Dawson. - This 'ere boy, Rowley, we place entirely at your disposition. 'E's not exactly a trained vallet, but Mossho Fowl, the Viscount's gentleman, 'ave give him the benefick of a few lessons, and it is 'oped that he may give sitisfection. Hanythink that you may require, if vou will be so good as to mention the same to Eowley, I will make it my business myself, sii, to see you satisfied." 172 8T. IVE3 So saying, the eminent and already detested Mr. Dawson took his departure, and I was left alone with Rowley. A man who may be said to have wakened to consciousness in the prisoii of the Abbiujc, among those ever graceful and ever tragic figures of the bravo and fair, awaiting tlie hour of the gnillotine and denuded of every comfort, I had no\ or known the luxuries or the amenities of nr. rank in life. To be attended on by servants I had only been accustomed to in inns. My toilet had long been military, to a moment, at the note of a bugle, too often at a ditch-side. And it need not be wondered at if L looked on niy new valet with a certain difhdence. But I remembered that if lie was my iirst experience of a valet, I was his first trial of a master. Chn red by which consideration, I demanded my bath in a 8tv]c. of good assurance. There was a bath-rooni contig- nmA; in an incredibly short space of time the hot water wn« roady ; and soon after, arrayed in a shawl dressing- gowii, and in a luxury of contentment and comfort, I was reclined in an easy-chair before the mirror, while Rowlev, with a mixture of pride and anxiety which 1 could well understand, laid out his razors. "Hey, Rowley.?" I asked, not quite resigned to go under fire with such an inexperienced commander. " It's all right, is it ? You feel pretty sure of your weapons ? " " Yes, my lord," he replied. " It's all right, I assure your lordship." " I beg your pardon, Mr. Rowley, but for the sake of shortness, Avould you mind not belording me in private ? " said I. " It will do very well if you call me Mr. Anne. It is the way of my country, as I daresay you know." Mr. Rowley looked blank. " But you're just as much a Viscount as Mr. Fowl's, are you nut ? " he said. " As Mr. Fowl's Viscount ? " said I, laughing. " 0, 11 V" MU. ROWLEY'S VISCOUNT 173 keep yonr mind easy, Mr. Kowley's is every bit as good. Only, you see, as I am of the younger line, I bear my Cl.ristuin name along with the title. Alain is the Viscount- i am the \ iscount Anne. A. , giving me the name of Mr. Anne, I assure you you v, oe quite regular," " Yes, Mr. Anne,'' said the docile youth. - But about the shaving, sir, you need be under no alarm. Mr. Fowl says 1 ave excellent dispositions." '' Mr. Poul V " said I. - That doesn't seem to me very like a I rench name." "No, sir, indeed, my lord," said he, with a burst of conhdence. - No. indeed, Mr. Anne, and it do not surely. 1 sJiould say now, it was more like Mr. Pole." "And Mr. Powl is the Viscount's man ?" " Yes. Mr. Anne," said he. - He 'ave a hard billet, he clo. Ihe \ iscount is a very particular gentleman. I don't think as you'll be, Mr. Anne?" he added, with a con- ndential smile in the mirror. He was about sixteen, Avell set up, with a pleasant, merry, freckled face, and a pair of dancing eyes. There was an air at once deprecatory and insinuating about the rascal that I thought I recog.iised. There came to me trom my own boyhood memories of certain passionate ad- mirations long passed away, and the objects of them long ago discredited or dead. I remembered how anxious I had 1 ^en to serve those fleeting heroes, how readily I told my- self I would have died for them, how much greater and handsomer than life they had appeared. And looking in the mirror, it seemed to me that I read the face of Row- ley, like an echo or a ghost, by the light of my own youth 1 tave always contended (somewhat against the opinion of my friends) that T am first of .,11 an economist ; and the last thing tliut I would care to throw away is that very val- uable piece of property—a boy's hero-worship. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) #/. :/. f/. 1.0 I.I 11.25 u US - 1^ ill 10 Li •^ I. 1.4 6" 18 1.6 ^1 °> > Hiotographic Sdences Corporation V 4^ •i>^ :\ \ ^o. ^1? o^ "W 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 174 ST. IVES " Why," said I, " you shave like an angel, Mr. Row- ley ! " " Thank you, my lord," said he. " Mr. Powl had no fear of me. You may be sure, sir, I should never 'ave had this berth if I 'adn't 'ave been up to Dick. We been ex- pecting of you this moutli back. My eye ! I never see such preparations. Every day the fires has been kep' up, the bed made, and all ! As soon as it was known you were coming, sir, I got the appointment ; and I've been up and clown since then like a Jack-in-the-box. A wheel couldn't sound in the avenue but what I was at the window ! I've had a many disappointments ; but to-night, as soon as you stepped out of the shay, I knew it was my — it was yon. 0, you had been expected ! AVhy, when I go down to supper, I'll be the 'ero of the servants' 'all : the 'ole of the staff is that curious ! " *' Well," said I, " I hope you may be able to give a fair account of me — sober, steady, industrious, good-tempered, and with a first-rate character from my last place ? " He laughed an embarrassed laugh. " Your hair curls beautiful," he said, by way of changing the subject. " The Viscount's the boy for curls, though ; and the rich- ness of it is, Mr. Powl teils me his don't curl no more than that much twine — by nature. Gettin' old, the Viscount is. He 'ave gone the pace, 'aven't "e, sir ? " " The fact is," said I, " that I know very little about him. Our family has been much divided, and I have been a soldier from a child." **A soldier, Mr. Anne, sir?" cried Rowley, with a sudden feverish animation. " Was you ever wounded ?" It is contrary to my principles to discourage admiration for myself ; and, slipping back the shoulder of the dres ;• ing-gown, I silently exliibited the scar which I had re- ceived in Edinburgh Castle. He looked at it with awe. MR. Rowley's viscount 175 " Ah, well !" he continued, "there's where the differ- ence comes in ! It's in the training. The other Viscount have been horse-racing, and dicing, and carrying on all his life. All right enough, no doubt ; but what I do say is, that it don't lead to nothink. Whereas "• " Whereas Mr. Rowley's ? " I put in. " My Viscount ? " said he. " Well, sir, I did say it ; and now that I've seen you, I say it again !" I could not refrain from smiling at this outburst, and the rascal cauglit me in the mirror and smiled to me again. " I'd say it again, Mr. Hanne," he said. "I know which side my bread's buttered. I know when a gen'Ieman's a gen'loman. Mr. Fowl can go to Putney with his one ! Beg your pardon, Mr. Anne, for being so familiar," said he, blushing suddenly scarlet. " I was especially warned against it by Mr. Fowl." " Discipline before all," said I. " Follow your front- rank man." With that, we began to turn our attention to the clothes. I was amazed to find them fit so well : not a la diable, in the haphazard manner of a soldier's uniform or a ready- made suit ; but with nicety, as a trained artist might re- joice to make them for a favourite subject. "'Tis extraordinary," cried I : " these thing's lit me per- fectly." " Indeed, Mr. Anne, you two be very much of a shape," said Rowley. "Who? What two ?" said I. " The Viscount," he said. " Damnation ! Have I the man's clothes on me, too ? " cried I. But Rowley hastened to reassure me. On the first word of my coming, the Count had put the matter of my ward- robe in the hands of his own and my cousin's tailors ; and 176 ST. IVES on the rumour of our resemblance, my clothes had been made to Alain's measure. " But they were all made for you express, Mr. Anne. You may be certain the Count would never do nothing by» 'alf : fires kep' burning ; the finest of clothes ordered, Fm sure, and a body-servant being trained a-purpose." " Well," said I, " it's a good fire, and a good set-out of clothes ; and what a valet, Mr. Rowley ! And there's one thing to be said for my cousin — I mean for Mr. Fowl's Viscount — he has a very fair figure." " 0, don't you be took in, Mr. Anne," quoth the faith- less Rowley : ** he has to be hyked into a pair of stays to get them things on ! " " Come, come, Mr. Rowley," said I, " this is telling tales out of school ! Do not you be deceived. The greatest men of antiquity, including C^sar and Hannibal and Fope Joan, may have been very glad, at my time of life or Alains', to follow his example. 'Tis a misfortune common to all ; and really," said I, bowing to myself before t' irror like one who should dance the minuet, '*when t suit is so successful as this, who would do anything but applaud ? " My toilet concluded, I marched on to fresh surprises. My chamber, my new valet and my new clothes had been beyond hope : the dinner, the soup, the whole bill of faro was a revelation of the powers there are in man. I had not supposed it lay in the genius of any cook to create, out of common beef and mutton, things so different and dainty. The wine was of a piece, the doctor a most agreeable com- panion ; nor could I help reflecting on the prospect that all this wealth, comfort and handsome profusion might still very possibly become mine. Here were a change in- deed, from the common soldier and the camp kettle, the prisoner and his prison rations, the fugitive and the hojv rors of the covered cart ! I CHAPTER XVII THE DESPATCH-BOX The doctor had scarce finislied his meal before he has- tened with an apology to attend upon his patient; and almost immediately after, I was myself summoned and usliered up the great staircase and along interminable cor- ridors to the bedside of my grp;it-uncle the Count. You are to think that up to the present moment I had not set eyes on this formidable personage, only on the evidences of his wealth and kindness. You are to think besides that I had heard him miscalled and abused from my earli- est childhood up. The first of the emigres could never expect a good word in the society in which my father moved. Even yet the reports I received were of a doubt- ful nature ; even Romaine had drawn of him no very amiable portrait ; and as I was ushered into the room, it was a critical eye that I cast on my great-uncle. He lay propped on pillows in a little cot no greater tlian a camp- bed, not visibly breathing. He was about eighty years of age, and looked it ; not that his face was much lined, but all the blood and colour seemed to have faded from his body, and even his eyes, wliicli last he kept usually closed as though the light distressed him. There was an un- speakable degree of slyness in his expression, which kept me ill at ease ; he seemed to lie there with his arms folded, like a spider waiting for prey. His speech was very de- liberate and courteous, but scarce louder than a sigh, W 177 178 ST. IVES " I bid you welcome, Monsieur le Vicomte Anne," said he, looking at mo hard with his pale eyes, but not moving on his pillows. " I have sent for you, and I thank you for the obliging exi)edition you have shown. It is my misfortune that I cannot rise to receive you. I trust you have been reasonably well entertained ? " " Monsieur mon ancle " I said, bowing very low, ''I am come at th summons of the head of my family." " It is well," he said. " Be seated. I should be glad to hear some news— if that can be called news that is al- ready twenty years old— of how I liave the pleasure to see you here." By the coldness of his address, not more than by the nature of the times that he bade me recall, I was plunged in melancholy. I felt myself surrounded as with deserts of friend lessness, and the delight of my welcome was turned to ashes in my mouth. ** That is soon told, monseiffneur," said I. " I under- stand that I need tell you nothing of the end of my un- happy parents ? It is only the story of the lost dog." " You are right. I am sufficiently informed of that de- plorable affair; it is painful to me. My nephew, your father, was a man who would not be advised," said he. " Tell me, if you please, simply of yourself." " I am afraid I must run the risk of harrowing your sensibility in the beginning," said I, with a bitter smile, "because my story begins at the foot of the guillotine. When the list came out that night, and her name was there, I was already old enough, not in years but in sad experience, to understand the extent of my misfortune. She " I paused. " Enough that she arranged with a friend, Madame de Chasserades, that she should take charge of me, and by the favour of our jailors I was suf- fered to remain iu the shelter of the Abbaye. That was THE DESPATOII-IU)X 179 my only refuge ; tliere was no corner of France tlnit I could rest the sole of my foot upon except tlie prison. Monsieur le Comte, you are as well aware as I can be what kind of a life that was, and how swiftly death smote in that society. I did not wait long before the name of Madame de ChasseradOs succeeded to that of my mother on the list. She passed me on to Madame de Noytot ; she, in her turn, to Mademoiselle de Braye ; and there were others. I was the one thing permanent; they were all transient as clouds ; a day or two of their care, and then came the last farewell and— somewhere far off in that roar- ing Paris that surrounded us— the bloody scene. I was the cherished one, the last comfort, of these dying women. 1 have been in pitched fights, my loi-d, and I never knew such courage. It was all done smiling, in the tone of good society ; heUe maman was the name I was taught to give to each ; and for a day or two the new 'pretty mamma' would make much of me, show me off, teach me the min- uet, and to say my prayers ; and then, with a tender em- brace, would go the way of her predecessors, smiling. There were some that wept too. There was a childhood ! All the time Monsienr de Culemberg kept his eye on me, and would have had me out of the Abbaye and in his own protection, but my ' pretty mammas ' one after another resisted the idea. Where could I be safer ? they argued ; and what was to become of them without the darling of the prison ? Well, it was soon shown how safe I was ! The dreadful day of the massacre came ; the prison was overrun ; none paid attention to me, not even the last of my ' pretty mammas,' for she had met another fate. I was wandering distracted, when I was found by some one in the interests of Monsieur de Culemberg. I understand he was sent on purpose ; I believe, in order to reach the in- terior of the prison, he had set his hand to nameless bar- 3 '■■ i I' 180 ST. IVES Imritios : snch was tlie price pjiid for my worthless, wliini- pering little life ! He gave me his hand ; it was wet, and mine was reddened J,.V,V. ...V. ...» ...vw». , he led me nnrcsisting. I remember but the one circumstance of my ilight — it was my last view of my last pretty mamma. Shall 1 describe it to you ?" 1 asked the Count, with a sudden fierceness. "Avoid unpleasant details," observed my great-uncle, gently. At these words a sudden peace fell upon me. I had been angry with tlie man before ; I had not sought to spare him ; and now, in a moment, I saw that there was nothing to spare. Whether from natural heartlessness or extreme old age, the soul was not at home ; and my benefactor, who had kept the fire lit in my room for a month past — my only relative except Alain, whom I knew already to be a hired spy — had trodden out the last sparks of hope and interest. " Certainly," said I ; "and, indeed, the day for them is nearly over. I was taken to Monsieur de Culemberg's, — I presume, sir, that you know the Abbe de Culemberg?" He indicated assent without openuig his eyes. " He was a very brave and a very learned man " "And a very holy one," said my uncle civilly. "And a very holy one, as you observe," I continued. " He did an infinity of good, and through all the Terror kept himself from the guillotine. He brought me up, and gave me such education as I have. It was in his house in the country at Dammarie, near Melun, that I made the acquaintance of your agent, Mr. Vicary, who lay there in hiding, only to fall a victim at the last to a gang of chauffeurs." " This poor Mr. Vicary ! " observed my uncle. " He had been many times in my interests to France, and this was his first failure. Qicel charmunt homme, n'est-cejjas?" THE DESPATOH-BOX 181 " Infinitely so," said I. " But I would not willingly detain you any farther with a story, the details of which it must naturally bo more or less unpleasant for you to hear. Suffice it that, by M. do Culcmberg's advice, I said fare- well at eighteen to that kind preceptor and his books, and entered the service of France ; and have since then carried arms in such a manner as not to disgrace my family." " You narrate well; voiis avcz la voix cliandc," said my uncle, turning on his pillows as if to study me. «* I have a very good account of you by Monsieur do Mauseant, whom you helped in Spain. And you had some education from the Abbe de Culemberg, a nuiu of a good house ? Yes, you will do very well. Yon luive a good manner and a handsome person, which hurts nothing. We are all handsome in the family ; even I myself, I have had my successes, the memories of which still charm me. It is my intention, my nephew, to make of you my heir. I am not very well content with my other nephew, Monsieur le Vicomte : he has not been respectful, which is the flattery due to age. And there are other matters." I was half tempted to throw back in his face ilat in- heritance so coldly offered. At the same time I had to consider. that he was an old man, and, after all, my rela- tion ; and that I was a poor one, in considerable straits, with a hope at heart which that inheritance might yet en- able me to realise. Nor could I forget that, however icy his manners, he had behaved to me from the first with the extreme of liberality and— I was about to write, kindness, but the word, in that connection, would not come. ^ I really owed the man some measure of gratitude, which it would be an ill manner to repay if I were to insult him on his deathbed, " Your will, monsieur, must ever be my rule," said I bowing. ' 1^ 182 ST. IVES **Yon have wit, monsieur mon neven" sqid he, "the best wit — the wit of silence. Many iniglit have deafened me with their gratitude. Gratitude !" he repeated, with a peculiar intonation, and lay and smiled to himself. " But to approach what is more important. As a prisoner of war, will it be possible for you to bo served lieir to English es- tates ? I have no idea : long as I have dwelt in England, I have never studied what they call their laws. On the other hand, how if Romainc should come too late ? I have two pieces of business to be transacted — to die, and to make my will ; and, however desirous I may be to serve you, I can- not postpone the first in favour of the second beyond a very *pw hours." '*Weil, sir, I must then contrive to be doing as I did before," said I. " Not so," said the Count. " I have an alternative. I have just drawn my balance at my banker's, a considerable sum, and I am now to place it in your hands. It will bo so much for you and so much less " he paused, and smiled Avith an air of malignity that surprised me. ** But it is necessary it should be done before witnesses. Mon- sieur le Vicomte is of a particular disposition, and an unwitnessed donation may very easily be twisted into a theft." He touched a bell, which was answered by a man having the appearance of a confidential valet. To him he gave a key. " Bring me the despatch-box that came yesterday. La Ferri^re," said he. " You will at the same time present my compliments to Dr. Hunter and M. TAbbe, and re- quest them to step for a few moments to my room." The despatch-box proved to be rather a bulky piece of baggage, covered with Russia leather. Before the doctor and an excellent old smiling priest it was passed over into THE DESPATCir-KOX 183 •my hands with a very clear statement of the disposer's wishes ; unmediately after which, though the witnesses re- mained behind to draw up and sign a joint note of the transaction. Monsieur de Keroual dismissed me to my own room. La Ferrit^re following with the invaluable box At my chamber door I took it from him with thanks, and entered alone. Everything had been already disposed for the night, the curtains drawn and the fire trimmed- and Rowley was still busy with my bedclothes. He turned round as I entered with a look of welcome that did mv heart good. Indeed, I had never a much greater need of human sympathy, however trivial, than at that moment when I held a fortune in my arms. In my uncle's room I had breathed the very atmosphere of disenchantment. He liad gorged my pockets ; he had starved every dignified or affectionate sentiment of a man. I had received so chill- mg an impi-ession of age and experience that the mere look of youth drew me to confide in Rowley : he was only a boy, his heart must beat yet, he must still retain some innocence and natural feelings, he could blurt out follies with his mouth, he was not a machine to utter perfect fCn f t " ''"^ '^■^'' ^ ^^^ ^^^^"^"^g t- outgrow the painful impressions of my interview; my spirits were beginning to revive ; and at the jolly, empty looks of Mr. Rowley, as he ran forward to relieve me of the box St Ives became himself again. ' " Now. Rowley, don't be in a hurry," said I. '' This is a momentous juncture. Man and boy, yon have been in my service about three hours. You must already have ob- served that I am a gentleman of a somewhat morose dis- position, and there is nothing that I more dislike than the smallest appearance of familiarity. Mr. Pole or Mr Fowl probably in the spirit of prophecy, warned you against thi; 184 ST. IVES m " Yes, Mr. Anne," said Rowley blankly. "Now there has just arisen one of those rare cases, in which I am willing to depart from my principles. My uncle has given me a box— what you would call a Christ- mas box. I don't know what's in it, and no more do you : perhaps I am an April fool, or perhaps I am already enor- mously wealthy ; there might be five hundred pounds in this apparently harmless receptacle ! " ** Lord, Mr. Annt ! " cried Rowley. " Now, Rowley, hold up your right hand and repeat the words of the oath after me," said I, laying the despatch- box on the table. " Strike me blue if I ever disclose to Mr. Fowl, or Mr. Fowl's Viscount, or anything that is Mr. Fowl's, not to mention Mr. Dawson and the doctor, the treasures of the following despatch-box ; and strike me sky- blue scarlet if I do not continually maintain, uphold, love, honour and obey, serve, and follow to the f ^ur corners of the earth and the waters that are under the earth, the hereinafter before mentioned (only that I find I have neg- lected to mention him) Viscount Anne de Kcroual de St. -Yves, commonly known as Mr. Rowley's Viscount. So be it. Amen." He took the oath with the same exaggerated seriousness as I gave it to him. " Now," said I. " Here is the key for you ; I will hold the lid with both hands in the meanwhile." He turned the key. " Bring up all the candles in the room, and range them alongside. What is it to be ? A live gorgon, a Jack-in-the-box, or a spring that fires a pistol ? On your knees, sir, before the prodigy ! " So saying, I turned the despatch-box upside down upon the table. At sight of the heap of bank paper and gold • that lay in front of us, between the candles, or rolled upon the floor alongside, I stood astonished. •II thp: despatch-box 18fi I I ■3 ** Lord ! " cried Mr. Rowley ; " Lordy, Lordy, Lord ! " and he scrambled after the fallen guineas. ''O my, Mr. Anne ! what u sight o' money ! Why, it's like a bl'eased story-book. It's like the Forty Thieves." "Now, Rowley, let's be cool, let's be businesslike," said I. " Riches are deceitful, particularly when you haven't counted them ; and the first thing we have to do is to ar- rive at the amount of my— let me say, modest competency. If I'm not mistaken, I have enough here to keej) you in gold buttons all the rest of your life. You collect the gold, and I'll take the i)aper." Accordingly, down we sat together on the hearthrug, and for some time there was no sound but the creasing of bills and the jingling of guineas, broken occasionsdly by the exulting exclamations of Rowley. The arithmetical oper- ation on which we were emburked took long, and it might have been tedious to others ; not to me nor to my helper. " Ten thousand pounds !" I ann.. unced at last. " Ten thousand ! " echoed Mr. Rowley. And we gazed upon each other. The greatness of this fortune took my breaib away. With that sum in my hands, I need fear no enemies. Peo- ple are. arrested, in nine cases out of ten, not because the police are astute, but because they themselves run short of money ; and I had here before me in the despatch-box a succession of devices and disguises that insured my liberty. Not only so ; but, as I felt with a sudden and overpower- ing thrill, with ten thousand pounds in my hands I was become an eligible suitor. What advances I had made in the past, as a private soldier in a military prison, or a fugi- tive by the wayside, could only be qualified or, indeed, ex- cused as acts of desperation. And now, I might come in by the front door ; I migiit approach the dragon with a lawyer at my elbow, and rich settlements to offer. The poor French 186 ST. IVES prisoner, Champdivers, might be in a perpetual danger of arrest ; but the rich travelling Englishman, St. Ives, in his post-chaise, with his despatch-box by his side, could smile at fate and laugh at locksmiths. I -repeated the proverb, exulting. Love laughs at locksmiths! In a moment, by the mere coming of this money, my love had become pos- sible— it had come near, it was under my hand— and it may be by one of the curiosities of human nature, but it burned that instant brighter. " Rowley," said I, "your Viscount is a made man." " Why, we both are, sir," said Rowley. "Yes, both," said I ; "and you shall dance at the wed- ding ; " and I flung at his head a bundle of bank notes, and had just followed it up with a handful of guineas^ when the door opened, and Mr. Romaine appeared upoii the threshold. CHAPTER XVIII MR. ROMAIKE rvLLS ME NAMES visitor wolcorao. He ,li"y gave it „,„ „ o„H,r» ' i :: ;: Xi^irf ' '■" "" marked i„ a ,t,.o„g decree ITl™ °°^'' "" "<'■ ^"^ "So, sir, I find yfuTe '. ™7™ »'• '"verity. -=. .ooked at .„ w,;:, — :::i„r:t:;:::'3 "-^ «^- have prepared for nf T ''"'^ ^^-fficnlties that voii begin' rwi,;:is\rben "^f'^-^-^^ri:^ all, this paragraph "An^^^^^^ ^ f." ''^""'^ '''^' ^'^' ^^ paper. ^ ^ ^ ^- ^"^ ^^ handed over to me a news- The paragraph in question was brief Tf «. recapture of one of the nv^J It announced the Edinburgh Caste glrelfisrirrT^"?^ '^'^'^ f-- he had entered int^ t'e p i^ " ^ ^T ' "'r''"^ ^'^^^ mnrder in the CastJe J^ri f ^'^ '^"^^"^ revolting L-astle, and denounced the murderer :_ "It is a oonimon soldipr callf.,1 oi.o ;■ n^wved m the common Hte of 1,1, 188 ST. IVES comra.los Tnspuoof ti.e activity along all tl.o Forth and th. East Coast, notlnng has yet hoen soon of the sloop which those dcspcTa.loos seized at (iranKon.outh, and it is now aliyost certain that thoy have founda watery grave." i;^ ^ l^etter unnwer that question ^ !' h'^ ^'''^''''^'' ^ ''•■^*' of the facts ?" ^ '^ i*"*^'"^' >'«" '■'' Possessio,. ''1 think so, indeed," said he. -■"--y face i t„n,"lt.:;rr;;.,:;"""' '"'^^"■^' '- clone! """'""' '""^ """^ ^- :"'-M I.e, wta Ihad '• r.!',r'r °°"°I"'''' ""■' """vie'v," said I. tlmt 1 foel „,^,Sf woil I " U, .V ,T ""' "'"J«'«'""a your acoo„„t-ll,„t you I „ M,'::' "'. '•-1""-Wlit, „„ Tl.oro a,.o «erif„., l.orsl^'t^^r'Mri:, ,;?' ''«-:';oy •' VCTcly. "A capital char..e and t,,., If ', " '""' *<'- tor and will, si„i.„l.,r?, f °' " ''"''y ''"""I oliarac- «.o n,a„ cz: r xtr t'°'"'''' "-"—or ■-tuatod by sentiments „,,:'f.:/Hr "1"'"" "' ''> '^ «>vear bla.k white- all the n *^ . ^' ""'' l"'"!""-"! to reH.aps drowned a el I T '"",""''■'"'>' '"^""'"•«<' ""d total for yonr lawyer to con ler ' d "" " ''■''""^ soned by the incurable folly rdievi 'If ^ "" ""■""' '■='■ sition." ' " ''""'y "f your own dispo- '■ I beg your pardon ! " said I. " 0, my expressions have hem m1„„4 i . - --.oatbei.eartbrug;^^g,ir:x'Li":i;r: I 190 ST. IVES servant, wore yon not, and tlie floor all scattered with gold and bank ps:per ? There was a tablean for yon ! It was I who came, and you were lucky in that. It might have been any one — your cousin as well as another." "You have me there, sir," I admitted. "I had neg- lected all precautions, and you do right to be angry. Apropos, Mr. Komaine, how did you come yourself, and how long have you been in the house ?" I added, surprised, on the retrospect, not to have heard him arrive. " I drove up in a chaise and pair," he returned. " Any one might have heard me. But you were not listening, I suppose ? being so extremely at your ease in the very house of your enemy, and under a capital charge ! And I have been long enough here to do your business for you. Ah, yes, I did it, God forgive me !— did it before I so much as asked yon the explanation of the paragraph. For some time back the will has been prepared ; now it is signed ; and your uncle has heard nothing of your recent piece of activity. Why ? Well, I had no fancy to bother him on his death-bed : you might be innocent ; and at bottom I preferred the murderer to the spy." No doubt of it but the man played a friendly part ; no doubt also that, in his ill-temper and anxiety, he expressed himself unpalatably. " You will perhaps find me over-delicate," said I. "There is a word you employed " " I employ the words of my brief, sir," he cried, strik- ing with his hand on the newspaper. " It is there in six letters. And do not be so certain — you have not stood your trial yet. It is an ugly affair, a fishy business. It is highly disagreeable. I would give my hand off— I mean I would give a hundred pound down, to have nothing to do with it. And, situated as we are, we must at once t^ke action. There is here no choice. You must first of all i MR. ROMAINE CALLS ME NAMES 191 '_' There may be two words to that," said I. place yourself, all that is to mJ,Z o \TZ ""Z' '° may come when we shall be able to do b tter ^^it t . be now : now it would be the gibbet '• ''"™' est intention of leaving tl . , ' T ""' "'' ^''«'"- self extremely. I Tave a^ood a d '■'' """.' P'^"^" "'^- should not be abW lie n f,''™"''^ »• St. Ives While the antht;:,:; ^ir^z.'j'^t^^^fi; ^^Z^'"-' '- ' - -eLorbXet "Tht'is'tl MnT' Sre""t''; "'°"^' ''°'""-- TT„ 1 "®^® ''^ '^^le tongne of the buoVlp " tott:?'"". A^f ?7^'™-" He ,it „p histir:; ■ exclaimed ' " " "«<"•' ^'"'' >" « '"""'elf ! " he atihiT/^ra^rtrhoir'trr^"""''''™-^^ the curtains, we heh d the amos 1 ' '"« °'" ''^'^^™ ascent. ^^ s''™niing on the smooth "4y,"saidEomaine, wiping the window-pane that he 193 ST. IVES might 800 more clonrly. " Ay, that is ho, by the driving ! So ho 8(|uan(ier8 inonoy along the king's highway, tiio triple idiot ! gorging every man ho moots with gold for the pleasure of arriving — whore ? Ah, yes, where but a debtor's jail, if not a criminal prison ! " ** Is ho that kind of a man ? " I asked, staring on these lamps as though I could deci])lior in them the secret of my cousin's character. " You will find him a dangerous kind," answered the lawyer. " For you, those are the lights on a loo shore ! I find 1 fall in a nniso when I consider of him ; what a for- midable being ho oiu'o was, and what a personable ! and how near he draws to the monuMit that must break him utterly ! We none of us like him here ; we hate him, rather ; and yet I have a sense — I don't think at my time of life it can be pity — but a reluctance rather, to break anything so big and figurative, as though ho were a big porcelain pot or a big picture of high price. Ay, there is what I was waiting for ! " he cried, as the lights of a sec- oiul chaise swam in sight. " It is he beyond a doubt. 'J'he first was the signature aiui the next the flourish. Two chaises, the second following with the baggage, which is always copious aiul ])onmn"ous, and one of his valets : ho cannot go a stop without a valet." "I hoar you repeat the word big," said I. **Bnt it cannot be that ho is anything out of the way in stature." '• No," said the attorney, " About your lieight, as I guessed for the tailors, and I see nothing wrong with the result. But, somehow, he commands an atmosphere ; ho has a spacious manner ; and he has kept up, all through life, such a volume of racket about his personality, with his chaises and his racers and his dicings, and I know not what — that somehow he imposes ! It seems, when the farce is done, and he locked in the Fleet prison — and no- 1 Mli. KOMAINK CALLS MK NAMES 103 110 ] body loff, hilt Honapiirto and Lord Wellington and tlio Ilctman Platolf to make a work about— the world will bo in a comparison qiiito tranrnijl. lint this is beside the mark," he addocl, with an (^ITort, turning again from the window. "We are now under fire, Mr. Aiiik!, as you soldiers would say, and it is high time we should pn^pare to go into action. Ho must not see you ; that would be fatal. All that ho knows at present is tliat you reseniblo him, and that is mindi more than enough. If it were pos- sible, it would be well ho should not know you were in tiio house." " Quite impossible, do])cnd upon it," said I. " Home of the servants are directly in his interests, perhaps in his pay : Dawson, for an example." ♦* My own idea ! " cried liomaino. " And at least," ho added, as the first of the cluiisos drew up with a dash iu front of the portico, " it is now too late. Here he is." We stood listening, with a strange anxiety, to the vari- ous noises that awoke in the silent house : the sound of doors opening and closing, the sound of feet near at hand and fartlicr oif. It was plain the arrival of my cousin wa;i a matter of moment, almost of parade, to the household. And suddenly, out of this confused and distant bustle, a rapid and light tread became distinguishable. We heard it come upstairs, draw near along the corridor, pause at the door, and a stealthy and hasty rapping succeeded. *'Mr. Anno— Mr. Anne, sir! Let me iu!" said the voice of Rowley. We admitted the lad, and locked the door again behind him. " It's him, sir," he panted. '' Ile've come." " You mean the Viscount ? " said I. " So we supposed. But come, Rowley— out with the rest of it I You have ^lore to tell us, or your face belies you ! " 13 il 194 ST. IVES " Mr. Anne, I do/' he said " Mr p«,„ • a friend of his, uin't you ? " ^'"'^'"'' '"' >'«"'''« '' yes, Oeorge, I am a friend of hi. " «.,iH 7? • •.oen at ,„o - It's 'tl'^ t I, ':'?7'''^: f""" '-'' took it, so I did 1 s(,.it„ ' ; " s"""'" ■■ •''"«] I j"g 0, the i:rit ei:,: fl"r t:'ir ■■■■ '"r- from the look of an accomplice to th.t of ••"';'"■.';''"?- ^-«.at moment he .ecaL:,:^:!d:;oV;r.2iS deS; ? '" ""*' • " '''"'"'^^ "- '->-. .. Is the f„„, ^^.;;No,"saidI; " he is onl, reminding me o,.„me- " ^yell-and I believe the fellow will bo faithfnl » . ■ i ;;if you please, sir," said Rowley. -. s;::r :i^^r:et:;tr;f ■• "^•" " comes of honest oeo.,?^ w ,> ^ '° '^ '""'^*'- "'' embrace some eariv oL'^ ^ ^""^'' ^"^'^'y'' '"'S^'' by telling Mr S S"""""^' '» »«™ 'hat half-g„i„t„, till noon to morrow f ^"^ '"'^'" ^■" "»' ''»™ '«'■ to morrow, ,t he go even then. Tell him there MR. ROMAINE CALLS ME NAMKS 195 5'J", you're IJoniiiino. slioiilder. *o\vl Jiavt! le Wiis at ' lio was iprs ! Jiiit, hear all give j)i(! "iiiul I siiys 1 10, ' looked 10 knew Jie paps- ydUng — it ; and -drilled the fool some- /' said ?" ho but it i. Ho might ainea, I hero there are a hundred things to be done here, and a hundred more that can only be done properly at my ofiice in llolborn. Come to think of it— we liad better see to that first of all," he went on, unlocking the door. " CJet hold of Fowl, and see. And be quick back, and clear me up this mess." Mr. Ilowley was no sooner gone than the lawyer took a pinch of snuff, and regarded me with somewhat of a more genial expression. " Sir," said he, " it is very fortunate for you that your face is so strong a letter of recommendation. Here am I, a tougli old practitioner, mixing myself up with your very distressing business ; and here is this farruer's lad, who has the wit to take a bribe and the loyalty to come and tell you of it — all, I take it, on the strength of your appearance. 1 wish I could imagine how it would impress a jury I " says lie. "And how it would affect the hangman, sir ?" I asked. " Absit omen!" said Mr. Romaine devoutly. We were just so far in our talk, when I hoard a sound that brought my heart into my mouth : the sound of some one slyly trying the handle of the door. It had been pre- ceded by no audible footstep. Since the departure of Row- ley our wing of the house had beer entirely silent. And we had every right to suppose ourselves alone, and to con- clude that the new-comer, whoever he might be, was come on a clandestine, if not a hostile, errand. " Who is there ? " asked Romaine. " It's only me, sir," said the soft voice of Dawson. " It's the Viscount, sir. He is very desirous to speak with you on business." " Tell him I shall come shortly, Dawson," said the law- yer. "I am at present engaged." " Thank yon, sir ! " said Dawson. And we heard his feet draw off slowly along the corridor, 190 ST. IVES "I thmk there was indeed!" said I. "And wl„.t roubles me-I am not sure that the oth;r has l,e n .rely away. By the tin.o it got the length of LTloi the stair the tread ,m plainly si.i-le " •• Ahem-bloekaded ?" asked the lawyer. A siege Mi-ijrZe.'" I exclaimed. " Let us come farther from the door " ».,:,l p "and reconsider this damnable ,„siti„7' WU of, 7'^' Alan, was this moment at the doo He h' ° L""""' and get a view of you. as if by aeddent bI'] ITJ ;:;'rf Se'iiT''' »■■ - "^ ..ntcd ua'r z:^;:; " Himself, beyond a doubt," said I ''And v«f f^ i ^ end He eunnot think to p.s the „\ht U^ere P '' "'^^ maine 'T,tT ' ' wf ^' '' ^'"^^ "^ ^'^^^^ ' " «"»^^ ^r. Ro- t on W . ' '' *^'' ^^''"^'^^^^ ^^-^^^^^^^k of your posi- ad l.n! r '"^ '"' °^ ^^"^ ^^^"^^ ^^' s..izabirgoods ^»d how am I to set about it with a sentiuel planned L' your very door?" ^"''^iiei planted at ;; There is no good in being agitated/' said I. it i^wl ' n ' '^V'''"'^^°^^^' " ^''^' «ome to think of momenf "'"7-^^' '^''' ^ ^'^^"^^ ^^^^^ been that very ruTe Lr""*"'^ '" ^"" P^^-«^"^^ appearance, when your cousin came upon this mission. I was savins if 1,! remember, that your face was as good orrtteTtlfan a if ter of recommendation. I wonder i- M Ti ^^'^''^Vf like thp r^af r.t T *^^naer u M. Alam would be iike^the rest of us-I wonder what he would think of maintain- is another A-nd what i gone en- lie head of Mlt. KOMAINE CALLS MK NAMES VJ7 hearthrug and beginning mechanically to pick up the scat- tered bills, when a honeyed voice joined suddenly in our conversation. " He thinks well of it, Mr. Romaine. He begs to join himself to that circle of admirers which you indicate to ex- ist already." Romaine, ut doubt, 1 to enter 1 in this, 1 here by t to what Mr. Ro- our posi- ggle you e goods ; mted at think of bat very e, when , if you in a let- )uld be link of ith his on the !l I * CHAPTER XIX THE DEVIL AND ALL AT XMKHSUAM PLACE Never did two luu.mn .Tcutures got to their feet with mo- ^tl-nty than the h.wyer an.l m^. w. ,,1" .md Imrred the main gates of the eit-ul.>I • I.. * , -' l>a,I left open the bath.-oon s ut .-'t " ,.;;';'"^^''"^^ n ent with . kind of pathos, as who sliould say, - J)on'( hit a man Avhen lie's down." Then I t.-.n.f...... / to my enemy. ^ ti.in^ferred my eyes He had his hat on, a little on one side • it wo, o v. , u liat, raked extremely 'uu] h-ul .. ,. " .. '^^^'^ ^'^" ^ ,, "'^v"'"'^"'i" I can scarce wonder," said he. - In truth it has been a singular business, and we are very fortunate to be out of It so well, let it was not treachery : no, no, Mr. Anne It was not treachery ; and if you will do me the favour to isten to me for the inside of a minute, I shall demonstrate the same to you beyond cavil." lie seemed to wake up to ins ordinary briskness. - You see the point ? " he be'an He had not yet read the newspaper, but who could^ell when he might ? He might have had that damned iour- nal in his pocket, and how should we know ? We were— I may say we are-at the mercy of the merest twoi)ennv accident. -' " Why, true," said I : '' J had not thought of that " -I warrant you," cried Romaine, "you had supposed it was nothing to be the hero of an interesting notice in the journals ! You had supposed, as like as not, it was a form of secrecy ! But not so in the least. A part of England 18 already buzzing witli the name of Champdivers ; a day or two more and the mail will have carried it everywhere' 'SI AFTER THE STORHl 213 088 ugiiinst And is it 1)00 r (lovil : such pur- littlo need ainst him? iiinition in in— it will -lie is fiiri- prod, iin- :!liind me ; ng myself ' jest, and ihery ?" t has been be out of Ir. Anne, favour to monstrate ake up to he began, ^ould tell lied jour- '^e were — iwopenny hat." pposed it 36 in tlie IS a fcrni England s ; u day y where • so wonderfnl a machine is this of ours for disseminating intelligence I 'riiink of it ! When my father was born but that is another story. To return : wo had here the elements of suc^h a combustion as I dread to tliink of — your cousin and the journal. Lot him but glance an eye upon that (jolumn of print, and where were we ? It is easy to ask ; not so easy to answer, my young frien°I»'-»nd walking ;; Yo„ approve it, Llr'laiiL '''''''■ """'"^ '" "0, approve!" sjiid hp • ff+i,„„ • proval. There is o v n.!' /' "° '1"''^^°^ ^^ ^P" -«.at™rt;::;;rc::i::r\ir"^ " N™, L'ir! "tfj'if'Tr^' "' '^"^' ■ " I '""'""ted. Plied "rn ' ""''' "<" "'""'"• " I did," ho re- AndIa,nttCti:;t ™' Sf" "" ""^'""^ '"■^"- • course th„ b^,: . /"'V" ' "'" »»- ''-'S-- by that bed and fall ,s 2,7 l ^ , "'*"<"'™»"' time to get to walk, as t r,™ ■„ ° l-,V-"'y oros.road\„<, morning take a c'Cis „ taic 1 e tdlL" '"'''' '" "" tinue yonr journey with all tl '"'"''" !'''"'»»'■''. and con- wbieh^ousL,, be-f:;;!;,:4awe""°™"' ""' "^^"^ »' '• I am taking the picture in," I said. " Give me ti,.-, lis the (out ensemble I must see • tl,„ „,i, t " tiie details. " ' "^ ''''»''' «« "PPosed to "Mountebank!" he mnrmured. and\i:^i:r,tt:vie;:"sairr^="* ^'"''---'' So as to have one more lint T,r,-fK gested the lawyer. « V^'/.liltei:;";/"" """'^ ' " '"^- to last for thir ;;:'•. I rn"or,"'*"''"'f"'"""' "' living granite for the™ kt'nlfrl 1^'"'""' ''" "'" i"g picture-seen, adS 'an g n l^XZ'~\^'; an eye. Whnt i« w-.n+.i • , ^ "^ *"® ^'»^k of =>.ai/be g!;re::u;rS' .^.t < trrr '''^'■^ """ not so.?" "^"^^ ^' ^n "lu- is it ^ .'.A.. AFTER THE STORM i217 1 ; you your- -and walking ed by your— ed, indeed ! " 3stion of ap- uld approve, substituted, did," he re- 1 argument, 'ger by tliat me to get to 3s-road and lit. In the i*e, and con- reserve of e me Hhq, opposed to a servaut. le."^ sug- ixclaimed. :eptifin fit ce in the nt — a fly- B wink of I'ceil that lu ; is it # ''It is, and tlie objection holds. Rowley is but another danger,'- said Roniaine. "Rowley," said I, -will pass as a servant from a dis- tance—as a creature seen poised on the dicky of a boulin-r chaise. He will pass at liand as the smart, civil fellow out meets in the inn corridor, and looks back at, and asks, and IS told, ' Gentleman's servant in iS'umber 4. ' He will pass, in fact, all round, except with his personal friends ! '.My dear sir, pray what do you expect ? Of course, if we meet my cousin, or if we meet anybody who took part in the judicious exhibition of this evening, we are lost ; and who's denying it ? To every disguise, however good and safe, there is always the weak point ; you must always take (let us say— and to take a simile from your own waistcoat pocket) a snuff-box-full of risk. You'll get it just as small with Rowley as with anybody else. And the long and short of It IS, the lad's honest, he likes me, I trust him ; he is my servant, or nobody." " He might not accept," said Romaine. " I bet you a thousand pounds he does ! " cried I. " But no matter; all you have to do is to send him out to-night on this cross-country business, and leave the thing to me I tell you, he will be my servant, and I tell you, he will do well." I had crossed the room, and was already overhauling my wardrobe as I spoke. "Well," concluded the lawyer, with a shrug, "one risk with another : h la guerre comme a lagnerre, as you would say. Let the brat come and be useful, at loast.'' And he was about to ring the bell, when his eye was caught by my researches in the wardrobe. "Do not fall in love with tliese coats, waistcoats, cravats, and other panoply and ac- coutrements by which you are now surrounded. You must not run the post as a dandy. It is not the fashion, even ' 218 ST. IVES " You are pleased to be facetious, sir," said I ; " and not according to knowledge. These clothes are my life, they are my disguise ; and since I can take but few of them, I were a fool indeed if I selected hastily ! Will you under- stand, once and for all, what I am seeking ? To be in- visible, is the first point ; the second, to be invisible in a post-chaise and with a servant. Can you not perceive the delicacy of the quest ? Nothing must be too coarse, noth- ing too fine ; riende voyant, Hen quitUtonne; so that I may leave everywhere the inconspicuous image of a hand- some young man of a good fortune travelling in proper style, whom the laiullord will forget in twelve hours— and the chambermaid perha})s remember, God bless her ! with a sigh. This is the very fine art of dress." " I have practised it with success for fifty years," said Romaine, with a chuckle. '' A black suit and a clean shirt is my infallible recipe." ''You surprise me ; I did not think you would be shal- low!" said I, liagering between two coats. "Pray, Mr. ' Romaine, have I your head ? or did you travel post and with a smartish servant ?" " ]S"either, I admit," said he. " Which changes the whole problem," I continued. " I have to dress for a smartish servant and a Russia leatlier despatch-box." That brouglit me to a stand. I came over and looked at the box with a moment's hesitation. " Yes," I resumed. " Yes, and for the despatch-box ! It looks moneyed and landed ; it means I have a lawyer. It is an invaluable property. But I could have wished it to hold less money. The responsibility is crushing. Should I not do more wisely to take five hundred pounds, and entrust the remainder Avitli you, Mr. Romaine ? " *' If you are sure you will not want it," answered Romaine. ** I am far from sure of that," cried I. *'In the fiist ■a' I' T "J ; "and not y life, they of them, I you under- To be in- visible in a lerceive the )iirse, noth- • so tliat I of a liand- j in proper lours — and her ! with ears," said clean shirt d be shal- Pray, Mr. 1 post and tiued. " I 5ia leather came over . "Yes," It looks It is an it to hold Diild I not id entrust Romaine. 1 the fiist AFTER THE STORM 219 place, as a philosopher. This is the first time I have been at the head of a largp sum, and it is conceivable— who knows himself .»— tlmt I may make it fly. In tlie second place, as a fugitive. Who knows what I may need ? The whole of it may be inadequate. But I can always write for more/' ** You do not understand," he rc])lied. " I break off all communication with you here aiul now. You must give me a power of attorney ere you start to-niglit, and then be done with me troncliantly until better days." I believe I offered some objection. "Think a little for once of me !" said Romaine. "I must not have seen you before to-niglit. To-night we are to have had our only interview, and you are to have given me the power ; and to-night I am to have lost sight of you again— I know not whither, you were upon business, it was none of my affairs to question you ! And this, you are to remark, in the interests of your own safety much more than inine." " I am not even to write to you ?" I said, a little be- wildered. " I believe I am cutting the last strand that connects you with common sense," he replied. " But that is the plain English of it. You are not even to write ; and if you did, I would not answer." "A letter, however " I began. " Listen to me," interrupted Romaine. " So soon as your cousin re:.ds the paragraph , what will he do ? Put the police upon looking into my orrespondence ! So soon as you write to me, in short, you write to Bow Street ; and if you will take ray advice, you will date that letter from France." " The devil ! " said I, for I began suddenly to see that this might put me out of the way of my business, " What is it now ? " says he. 220 ST. IVES " There will be more to be done, then, before we can part," I answered. "I give you the whole night," said he. "So long as you arc off ere daybreak, I am content." " in short, Mr. Komaine," said I, " I have had so much benefit of your advice and services that I am loath to sever the connection, and would even ask a substitute. 1 would be obliged for a letter of introduction to one of your own cloth in Edinburgh— an old man for choice, very experi- enced, very respectable, and very secret. Could you favour me with sucli a letter ?" "Why, no," said he. "Certaii.ly not. I will do no such thing, indeed." " It would be a great favour, sir," I pleaded. "It would be an unpardonable blunder," he replied. " What ? Give you a letter of introduction ? and when the police come, I suppose, I must forget the circumstance ? No, indeed. Talk of it no more." " You seem to be always in the right," said I. "The letter would be out of tlie question, I quite see that. But the lawyer's name might very well have dropped from you in the way of conversation ; having heard him mentioned, I might profit by the circumstance to introduce myself ; and in this way my business would be the better done, and you not in the least compromised." " What is this business ? " said Eomaine. " I have not said that I had any," I replied. " It might arise. This is only a possibility that I must keep in view." " Well," said he, with a gesture of the hands, "I men- tion Mr. Robbie ; rnd let that be an end of it !— Or wait ! " he added, " I have it. Here is something that will serve you for an introduction, and cannot compromise me." And he wrote his name and the Edinburgh lawyer's address on a piece of card and tossed it to me. tre we can So long as id so much th to sever . 1 would your own 3ry experi- you favour tvill do no 16 replied, and when afnstance ? I. "The ihat. But from you nentioned, !e myself ; done, and ' It might ) in view." "I men- Orwait!" will serve nise me." r's address CHAPTER XXI I BECOME THE OWXER OF A CLARET-COLOURED CHAISE What with packing, signing papers, and partaking of an excellent cold supper in the lawyer's room, it was past two m the morning before we were ready for the road Komame himself let us out of a window in a part of the house known to Rowley : it appears it served as a kind of postern to the servants' hall, by which (when they were in tlie mind for a clandestine evening) they would come regu- larly in and out ; and I remember very well the vinegar aspect of the lawyer on the receipt of this piece of infor- matioii-how he pursed his lips, jutted his eyebrows, and kept repeating, "This must be seen to, indeed ! this shall be barred to-morrow in the morning !" In this preoecu- pation, I believe he took leave of me without observing it • our things were handed out ; we heard the window shut behind us ; and became instantly lost in a horrid intricacy of blackness and the shadow of woods. A little wet snow kept sleepily falling, pausing, and fall- ing again ; it seemed perpetually beginning to snow and perpetually leaving off ; and the darkness was intense. lime and again we walked into trees; time and again found ourselves adrift among garden borders or stuck like a ram in the thicket. Rowley had possessed himself of the matches, and he was neither to be terrified nor softened. ^o, I will not, Mr. Anne, sir," he would reply. " You know he tell mt to wait till we were over the 'ill. It's only 231 232 ST. IVES a little way now. Why, and I thought yon was a soldier, too ! " I was at least a very glad soldier when my valet consented at last to kindle a thieves' match. From this, we easily lit the lantern ; and thenceforward, through a labyrinth of woodland paths, wore conducted by its uneasy glimmer. Both booted and great-coated, with tall hats much of a sliape, and laden with booty in the form of the despatch -box, a case of pistols, and two plump valises, I thought we had very much the look of i" pair of brothers returning from the sack of Amersham Place. We issued at last upon a country by-road wliere we might walk abreast and without precaution. It was nine miles to Aylesbury, our immediate destination ; by a watch, which formed part of my new outfit, it should be about half -past three in the morning ; and af, we did not choose to arrive before daylight, time could lot be said to press. I gave the order to march at ease. " Now, Rowley," said I, " so far so good. You have come, in the most obliging manner in the world, to carry these valises. The question is, what next ? What are we to do at Aylesbury ? or, more particularly, what are you ? Thence, I go on a journey. Are you to accompany me?" He gave a little chuckle. " That's all settled already, Mr. Anne, sir," he replied. '* Why, I've got my things here in the valise — a half a dozen shirts and what not ; I'm all ready, sir : just you lead on ; you'll see." •' The devil you have ! " said I. " You made pretty sure of your welcome." **If you please, sir," said Rowley. He looked up at me, in tlie light of the lantern, with a boyish shyness and triumph that awoke my conscience. I could never let this innocent involve himself in the perJls and difficulties that beset my course, without 3ome hint of ;i_ a soldier, my valet roin this, ;hrougli a its uneasy tall hats •m of the valises, I I brothers we might e miles to eh, which : half-past ! to arrive ;. I gave You have I, to carry What are what are ,ccompany d already, ny things not ; I'm ide pretty rn, with a cience. I the perils ne hint of m I BECOME THE OWNEU OF A CHAISE 223 warning, which it was a matter of extreme delicacy to make plain enough and not too plain. " No, no," said I ; " you may think you have made a choice, but it was blindfold, and you must nuike it over again. The Count's service is a good one ; what are you leaving it for ? Are you not tlironiug au'ay tlie substance for the shadow ? No, do not answer me yet. You iimig- inc tluit I am a prosperous nobleman, just declared m^y uncle's heir, on tlie threshold of tlie beat of good fortune, and from the point of view of a judicious servant, a jewel of a master to serve and stick to? Well, my boy, I am nothing of the kind, nothing of the kind." As I said the words, I came to a full stop and held up the lantern to his face. He stood before me, brilliantly illuminated on tlie background of impenetrable night and falhng snow, stricken to stone between his double burden like an ass between two panniers, and gaping at me like a blunderbuss. I had never seen a face so predestined to be astonished, or so susceptible of rendering the emotion of surprise ; and it tempted me as an open piano tempts the musician. "Nothing of the sort, Eowley," I continued, in a church- yard- voice. - These are appearances, pretty appearances. 1 am in peril, homeless, hunted. I count scarce any one in England who is not my enemy. From this hour I drop my name, my title ; I become nameless ; my name is pro- scribed. My liberty, my life, hang by a hair. The des- tiny which you will accept, if you go forth with me, is to be tracked by spies, to hide yourself under a false name, to tollow the desperate pretences and perhaps share the fate ot a murderer with a price upon his head." His face had been hitherto beyond expectation, passing from one depth to another of tragic astonishment, and really worth paying to see ; but at this, it suddenly cleared. m I 224 ST. IVES ♦*0, I ain't afraid!" he said; and then, choking into hiugliter, '' why, I see it from the first ' " I could have beaten him. But I had so grossly overshot the mark that I suppose it took me two good miles of road and half an hour of elocution to persuade him I had been in earnest. In the course of which, I became so interested in demonstrating my present danger that I forgot all about my future safety, and not only told him the story of Gosuelat, but threw in the business of the drovers as well, and ended by blurting out that I was a soldier of Nf.po- leon's and a prisoner of war. This was far from my views when I began ; and it is a common complaint of me that I have a long tongue. I believe it is a fault beloved by fortune. AVhich of you con- siderate fellows would have done a thing at once so fool- hardy and so wise as to make a confidant of a boy in his teens, and positively smelling of the nursery ? And when had I cause to repent it ? There is none so apt as a boy to be the adviser of any man in difficulties such as mine. To the beginnings of virile common sense he adds the last lights of the child's imagination ; and he can fling himself into business with that superior earnestness that properly belongs to play. And Rowley was a boy made to my hand. He had a high sense of romance, and a secret cultus for all soldiers and criminals. His travelling library consisted of a chap-book life of Wallace and some sixpenny parts of the 'Old Bailey Sessions Papers' by Gurney the shorthand writer ; and the choice depicts his character to a hair. You can imagine how his new prospects brightened on a boy of this disposition. To be the servant and companion of a fugitive, a soldier, and a murderer, rolled in one — to live bv p.trataicrems, dis""uises, and false names, in an atmosphere of midnight and mystery so thick that you could cut it with a knife— was really, I believe, more dear to him than si '4^ Ing into overshot s of road lad been iterostcd ill a])oiit story of I as well, if Nf.po- i it is a igue. I you con- I so fool- oy in his nd when a boy to line. To the last T himself properly iiy hand. us for all isisted of rts of the horthand air. You a boy of lion of a > — to live tnosphere Id cut it him than i-i I BECOME THE OWNER OF A CHAISE 226 his meals, though he was a great trencherman, and some- thing of a glutton besides. For myself, as tlie peg ly which all this romantic business hung, I was simply idolised f-om that moment ; and he would rather have sacrificed his hand than surrendered the privilege of serving me We arranged the terms of our campaign, trudging ami- cablyinthesnow, which now, with the approach of morn- ing, began to fall to purpose. I chose the name of Ra- mornie, I imagine from its likeness to Komaine ; Row- ley, from an irrisistiblo conversion of ideas, I dubbed Gammon. His distress was laughable to witness : his own choice of an unassuming nickname had been Claude Duval ' We settled our procedure at the various inns where we should alight, rehearsed our little manners like a piece of drill until It seemed impossible we should ever be taken unprepared ; and in all these dispositions, you may be sure the despatch-box was not forgotten. Who was to pick it up, who was to set it down, who was to remain beside it, who was o sleep with it-there was no contingenc; omitted, all was gone into with the thoroughness of a drill-sergeant on the one hand and a child with a new play, thing on the other. ^ ^ ;7 «^y. wouldn't it look queer if you and me was to come to the post-house witli all this luggage ? " said Rowley. ^ I daresay, I replied. " But what else is to be done ? " Well now, sir-you hear me," says Rowley. " I think It would look more natural-like if you was to come to the post-house alone, and with nothing in your 'ands-more Ike a gentleman, you know. And you might say that your 1 r 1 1''''^' """^ """^^"^^ ''' ^'^^ "P ^he road' I think I could manage, somehow, to make a shift with all them, dratted thiuf^s— le'istw-iv if v^ / ■ , J . , V " 'e.i&tUci_yo It you was to ffive me a and up with them at the start." " And I wonld see you far enough before I allowed you to 226 ST. IVE8 try, Mr. Rowley !" I cried. "Why, you would bo quite defeueeless ! A footpad that was an infant child could rob you. And I shoidd probably come driving by to find you in a ditch with your tiiroat cut. But there is somethinir m your idea, for all that; and I pro])ose we put it in exe- cution no farther forward than the next corner of a lane." Accordingly, instead of continuing to aim for Aylesbury, we headed by cross-roads for some i)oint to the northward of it, whither I might assist Rowley with the l)aggage, and where I might leave him to await my return in the post- chaise. It was snowing to purpose, the country all white, and ourselves walking snowdrifts, when the first glimmer of the morning showed us an inn upon the highway side. Some distance otf, under the shelter of a corner of the road and a clump of trees, T loaded Rowley with the whole of our possessions, and watched him till he staggered in safety into the doors of the Green Dragon, which was the sign of the house. Thence I walked briskly into Ayles- bury, rejoicing in my freedom and the causeless good spirits that belong to a snowy morning; though, to 1)0 sure, long before I had arrived th ■ snow had again ceased to fall, and the eaves of Aylesbury were smoking in the level sun. There was an accumulation of gigs and chaises in the yard, and a great bustle going forward in the coffee- room and about the doors of the inn. At these evidences of so much travel on the road I was seized with a misffiv- ing lest it should be impossible to get horses and I should be detained in the precarious neighbourhood of my cousin. Hungry as I was, I made my way first of all to the post- master, where he stood— a big, athletic, horsey- looking man, blowing into a key in the corner of the yard. On my making my modest request, he awoke from his indifference into what seemed passion. ■i and I BKCOME TIIR OWNKR OF A CHAISE 227 " A po^-shiiy and oases ! " ho med. '• J)o I look as if I 'ud a po'-shuy and osses ? Daiim me, if I 'ave such a tliiu- on tlie preni ses. I don't make 'osses and oluiises— I 'ire 'cm. Von luight be God Alinigl.ty !" said lie; and in- stantly, as if ne had observed me for the first time, he broke off, and lowered his voice into the confidential. " Why, now that I see you are a gentleman," said ho " I'll tell you what ! If you like to bui/, I have the article to fit you. Second-'and shay by Lycett, of London. Latest style ; good as new. Superior fittin's, net on the roof baggage platform, pistol 'olstcr;^— the most com-])Iete and the most gen-teel turn-out 1 ever see! 'i^he 'ole for seventy-five pound ! It's as good as givin' her away ! " "Do you propose I should trundle it myself, like a haw- ker's barrow ?" said I. - Why, my good man, .f I have to stop h an\ A-dy, I should prefer to buy a liouse and garden ! " Como and look at her ! " he cried ; and. with the word, links his arm in mine and carries m^ to the out-house where the chaise was on view. It was just the sort of chaise that I had dreamed of for my purpose : eminently rich, inconspicuous, and genteel ; for, though I thought the postmaster no great authority I was bound to agree with him so far. The body was painted a di.rk claret, and the wheels an invisible green. The lamp and glasses were bright as silver; and the whole equipage had an air of privacy and reserve that seemed to repel in- quiry and disarm suspicion. With a servant like Rowley " and a chaise like this, I felt that I could go from the Land's Lnd to John o' Groat's House amid a population of bow- mg ostlers. And I suppose I betrayed in my manner the •-tCgree in vvhieh the r>argain tempted me. "Come," cried the postmaster-- I'll make it seventy, to oblige a friend ! " *^ 228 ST. IVES " The point is : the horses," said I. " Well," said he, consulting his watch, " it's now gone the 'alf after eight. What time do you want her at the door? " " Horses and all ? " said I. " 'Osses and all ! " says he. *'One good turn deserves another. You give me seventy pound for the shay, and I'll 'oss it for you. I told you I didn't make 'osses ; but I can make 'em to oblige a friend." What would you have ? It was not the wisest thing in the world to buy a chaise within a dozen miles of my uncle's house ; but in this way I got my horses for the next stage. And by any other, it appeared that I should have to wait. Accordingly, I paid the money down — perhaps twenty pounds too much, though it was certainly a well- made and well-appointed vehicle — ordered it round in half an hour, and proceeded to refresh myself with breakfast. The table to which I sat down occupied the recess of a bay-window, and commanded a view of the front of the inn, where I continued to be amused by the successive de- partures of travellers— the fussy and the offhand, the nig- gardly and the lavish— all exhibiting their different char- acters in that diagnostic moment of the farewell : some escorted to the stirrup or the chaise door by tlie chamber- lain, the chambermaids and the waiters almost in a body, others moving off under a cloud, without human counte- nance. In the course of this I became interested in one for whom this ovation began to assume the proportions of a triumph ; not only the under-servants, but the barmaid, the landlady, and my friend the postmaster himself, crowd- ing about the steps to speed his departure. I was aware, at the same time, of a good deal of merriment, as though the traveller were a man of a ready wit, and not too digni- fied to air it in that society. I leaned forward with a lively curiosity ; and the next moment I had blotted myself \ I BPJCOME THE OWNER OF A CHAISE 229 behind the teapot. The popiihir traveller had turned to wave a farewell ; and behold ! he was no other than my cousin Alain. It was a change of the sharpest from the angry, pallid man I had seen at Amersham Place. Ruddy to a fault, illuminated with vintages, crowned with his curls like Bacchus, he now stood before me for an in- stant, the perfect master of himself, smiling with airs of conscious popularity and insufferable condescension. He reminded me at once of a royal duke, of an actor turned a little elderly, and of a blatant bagman who should have been the illegitimate son of a gentleman. A moment after he was gliding noiselessly on the road to London. I breathed again. I recognised, with heartfelt grati- tude, how lucky I had been to go in by the stable-yard instead of the hostelry door, and what a fine occasion of meeting my cousin I had lost by the purchase of the claret- coloured chaise ! The next moment I remembered that there was a waiter present. No doubt but he must have observed me when I crouched behind the breakfast equi- page ; no doubt but he must have commented on this un- usual and undignified behaviour ; and it was essential that I should do something to remove the impression. *' Waiter ! " said I, " that was the nephew of Count Car- well that just drove off, wasn't it ? " "Yes, sir : Viscount Carwell we calls him," he replied. " Ah, I thought as much," said I. " Well, well, damn all these Frenchmen, say I ! " "You may so indeed, sir," said the waiter. "They ain't not to say in the same field with our 'ome-raised gentry." " Nasty tempers ? " I suggested. "Beas'ly temper, sir, the Viscount 'ave," said the waiter with feeling. "Why, no longer agone than this morning, he was sitting breakfasting and readiL ' in his 230 ST. IVES paper. I suppose, sir, he come on some pilitical informa- tion, or it might be about 'orses, but he raps his 'and upon the table sudden and calls for curagoa. It gave me quite a turn, it did ; he did it that sudden and 'ard. Now, sir, that may be manners in France, but hall I can say is, that Tm not used to it." " Reading the paper, was he ? " said I. " What paper, eh ?" ** Here it is, sir," exclaimed the waiter. *' Seems like as if he'd dropped it." And picking it off the floor, he presented it to me. I may say that I was quite prepared, that I already knew what to expect ; but at sight of the cold print my heart stopped beating. There it was : the fulfilment of Romaine's apprehension was before me ; the paper was laid open at the capture of Clausel. I felt as if I could take a little cura- 90a myself, but on second thoughts called for brandy. It was badly wanted ; and suddenly I observed the waiter's eye to sparkle, as it were, with some recognition; made certain he had remarked the resemblance between me and Alain ; and became aware — as by a revelation — of the fool's part I had been playing. For I had now managed to put my identification beyond a doubt, if Alain should choose to make his inquiries at Aylesbury ; and, as if that were not enough, I had added, at an expense of seventy pounds, a clue by which he might follow me through the length and breadth of England, in the shape of the claret-coloured chaise ! That elegant equipage (which I began to regard as little better than a claret-coloured ante-room to the hangman's cart) coming presently to the door, I left my breakfast in the middle and departed ; posting to the north as diligently as my cousin Alain was posting to the south, and putting my trust (such as it was^ in an o^josite direction and equal speed. I CHAPTER XXII CHARA.CTER AND ACQUIREMENTS OF MR. ROWLEY I AM uot certain tliat I had ever really appreciated be- fore that hour the extreme peril of the adventure on which I was embarked. The sight of my cousin, the look of his face— so handsome, so jovial at the first sight, and branded with so much malignity as you saw it on the second— with his hyperbolical curls in order, with liis neckcloth tied as if for the conquests of love, setting forth (as I had no doubt in the world he was doing) to clap the Bow Street runners on my t/ail, and cover England witli handbills', each dangerous as a loaded musket, convinced mo for the first time that the affair was no less serious than death. I believe it came to a near touch whether I sliould not turn the horses' heads at the next stage and make directly for the coast. But I was now in the position of a man who should have thrown his gage into the den of lions ; or, better still, like one who should have quarrelled overnight under the influence of wine, and now, at daylight, in a cold win- ter's morning, and humbly sober, must make good his words. It is not that I thought any the less, or any the less warmly, of Flora. But, as I smoked a grim segar that morninj in a corner of the chaise, no doubt I considered,- in the first place, that the letter post had been invented, and admitted privately to myself, in the second, that it would have been highly possible to write her on a piece of paper, seal it, and send it skimming by the mail, instead of -"ttmm-am III 232 ST. IVES going personally into these egregious dangers and through a country that I beheld crowded with gibbets and liow Street officers. As for Sira and Cundlish, I doubt if they crossed my mind. At the Green Dragon Rowley was waiting on the door- steps witli the luggage, and really was bursting with un- jjalatable conversation. " Who do you think we've 'ad 'ere, sir ? " he began breath- lessly, as the chaise drove off. "Red Breasts''; and he nodded his head i)ortentously. "Red Breasts?"! repeated, for I stupidly did not un- derstand at the moment an expression I had often heard. " Ah ! " said he. " Red weskits. Runners. Bow Street runners. Two on 'em, and one v/as Lavender himself ! I hear the other say quite plain, 'Now, Mr. Lavender, if you're ready.' They was l)reakfasting as nigh me as I am to that post-boy. They're all right ; tliey ain't after us. It's a forger ; and I didn't send them off on a false scent— no ! I thought there was no use in having them over our way ; so I give them ' very valuable information,' Mr. Lavender said, and tipped me a tizzy for juyself ; and they're off to Luton. They showed me the 'andcuffs, too — the other one did — and he clicked the dratted things on my wrist ; and I tell you, I believe I nearly went off in a swound ! There's something so beastly in the feel of them ! Begging your pardon, Mr. Anne," he added, with one of his delicious changes from the character of the confidential schoolboy into that of the trained, respectful servant. Well, I must not oe proud ! I cannot say I found the imlrject of handcuffs to my fancy ; and it was with more Hsperity than was needful that I reproved him for the slip .ibout the name. " Yes, Mr. Ramornie," says he, touching his hat. -1^ " Beg- CHARACTER OP MR. ROWLEY 2o6 s Beg. ging your pardon, Mr. Kamornie. But I've been very piticular, sir, up to noiv ; and you may trust me to be very piticular in the future. It were only a slip, sir." " My good boy," said I, with the most imposing severity, " there must be no slips. Be so good as to remember that my life is at stake." I did not embrace the occasion of telllr.g liim how many I had made myself. It is my principle that an officer must never be wrong. I have seen two divisions beating their brains out for a fortnight against a worthless and quite im- pregnable castle in a pass : I knew we were only doing it for discipline, because the General had said so at first, and had not yet found any way out of his own words ; and I highly admired his force of character, and throughout these operations thought my life exposed in a very good cause. AVith fools and children, which included Kowley, the necessity was even greater. I proposed to myself to be infallible ; and even when he expressed some wonder at the purchase of the claret-coloured cL vise, I put him promptly in his place. In our situation, I told him, everything had to be sacrificed to appearances ; doubtless, in a hired chaise! we should have had more freedom, but look at the dignity, I was so positive, that I had sometimes almost convinced myself. Not for long, you may be certain ! This detest- able conveyance always appeared to me to be laden with Bow Street officers, and to have a placard upon the back of it publishing my name and crimes. If I had paid seventy pounds to get the thing, I should not have stuck at seven hundred to be safely rid of it. And if the chaise was a danger, what an anxiety was the despatch-box and its golden cargo ! I had never had a care but to draw my pay and spend it ; I had lived happily in the regimeut, as in my father's house, fed by the great Emperor's commissariat as by ubiquitous doves of Elijah— 234 ST. IVES Pl^' i ! or, my faith! if anything went wrong with the commis- sariat, helping myself with the best grace in the world from the next peasant ! i^nd now I began to feel at the same time the burthen of riches and the fear of destitution. There were ten thousand pounds in the despatch-box, but I reckoned in French money, and had two hundred and fifty thousand agonies; I kept it under my hand ail day, I dreamed of it at night. In the inns, I was afraid to go to dinner and afraid to go to sleep. When I walked up a hill, I durst not leave the doors of the claret-coloured chaise. Sometimes I would cliange the disposition of the funds : there were days when I carried as much as five or six thou- sand pounds on my own jDerson, and only the residue contin- ued to voyage in the treasure chest— days when I bulked all over like my cousin, crackled to a touch with bank paper, and had my pockets weighed to bursting point with sov- ereigns. And there were other days when I wearied of the thing— or grew ashamed of it— and put all the money back where it had come from : there let it take its chance, like better people ! In short, I set Rowley a poor example of consistency, and in philosophy, none at all. Little he cared ! All was one to him so lf- gentleman. 1 have said they were man and woman I «1,„„M i. sa.d man and child. She was oertainTy^ot Lthan "' :rr;nT&i-tirsSzrbrrr^^^^^ e^ror;hX?e---,e^t3'«T' ? ventuie upon life^ , the company of a half-bred hawbuck • and she was already not only resrettin.. if h„t " . ' her regret with point and pm'X ^ "' """ ''P^^'^^S air^oVbl^!:"; *'"' ''^"' P"'^"' ™"" «•"' "nmistakable air of being interrupted in a scene. I uncovered t„7t,! lad", and placed my services at their dispral. ' It was the man who answered. "There'. n„ „.. • shamming, sir," said he. "This ladv and i 1 a,e rn? aw.y, and her father's after «s : road to" Gretna! ^ Z ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 243 here have these nincompoops spilt us in the ditch and smashed the chaise ! " ''Very provoking," said I. *' I don't know when I've been so provoked ! " cried he, with a glance down the road of mortal terror. "The father is no doubt very much incensed ?" I pur- sued, civilly. " God ! " cried the hawbuck. *' In short, you see, we must get out of this. And I'll tell you what — it may seem cool, but necessity has no law — if you would lend us your chaise to the next post-house, it would be the very thing, sir." " I confess it seems cool," I replied. " AVhat's that you say, sir ?" he snapped. " I was agreeing with you," said I. " Yes, it does seem cool ; and what is more to the point, it seems unnecessary. This thing can be arranged in a more satisfactory manner otherwise, I think. You can doubtless ride ? " This opened a door on the matter of their previous dis- pute, and the fellow appeared life-sized in his true colours. " That's what I've been telling her : that, damn her ! she must ride !" he broke out. "And if the gentleman's of the same mind, why, damme, you shall !" " As lie said so, he made a snatch at her wrist, which she evaded with horror. I stepped between them. " No, sir," said I, "the lady shall not." He turned on me raging. " And who are you to inter, fere ? " he roared. " There is here no question of who I am," I replied. " I may be the devil or the Archbishop of Canterbury for what you know, or need know. The point is that I can help you — it appears that nobody else can ; and I will tell you how I propose to do it. I will give the lady a seat in my 244 ST. IVES 1 ) chaise, if jrou will return the compliment bv .1T„„- servant to ride one of your horses " ^ "^ "^ I thought he would have sprung at my throat. ..ereK:a-;:;--i^/eforey„u:to -rth'^rSet^t-uJ:,-' -'-■-— ,00. he:aidrwX.f;i'l ^U""^ '- ^-^ ■»-" o".«ed to you,- oha'ifrH'oTle7g'ri;,;':! -""■'f '^"Wrdinto the behind us ■ the'two iZf iT '"'' ° °»'' '='"^'"1 ««' ^oor and laughedtud^r '^r™ Ti:! r"'"^'^ °"^'"^ urged his horses at once i to t rlltii * 7 T ''°'''''™ I was supposed bv all t„ I ! '« *''°'- " ™' P'"™ ravished'tltid^ ^"« tt^rer" "^^^ ""^"'"^ ""'' """ ^r rstrSh::iui;t:^^^ ■•^- , «■■» on her lap in her black lace nSs ' ''" "'"^ '''"»'' Madam " J began. wiry^l^itiZf r-""'- "'*« ■- ™'-: "0. wil'^rsTe:;:;!'':*!^'' "^ «^""^"'™ """''^' wish I could teuL TJ, -nziocence in distress ? I fa«>er, I thint 'If 'us' ;. Ztt '7"^" '," ^■»- a smile. " But I will t.l '' , ™"''nu«'. with which ..ght t:'do :"ei a rto's™ t;;:?,t"5 "'^■^"" rest n mv society I om „ i J ' ''"'" '""'■' at for I am "fe n ed to 'i?m "■• ''T' '"^ " "^ "'^^^'f- I am a true love, There ' "'°f "' '" *^"S"''l'-"'='t obey; she is no^; goTrt;! ^sl': iJ^itifuT'-rh''^"^' here, she would take you to her arms Zl^^J.f^^:;'^ aent me-.hat she has sa,d to me, < Go, be hc^knightl' " \ ADVENTURE OF TJIE RUNAWAY COUPLE 245 "0, I know she must bo sweet, I know she must be worthy of you ! " cried the lit Je lady. - She would never forget female deoorum-aor make the terrible erratum 1 ve done ! And at this she lif od up her voice and wept This did not forward matters : it was in vain that I begged her to be more composed and to tell me a plain consecutive tale of her misadventures; but slie continued instead to pour forth the most extraordinary mixture of the correct school miss and the poor untutored little piece of womanhood in a false j)osition-of engrafted pedantry and incoherent nature. "I am certain it must have been judicial blindness," she sobbed. - I can^t think how J didn't see it, but I didn't • anu he isn't, is lie ? And then a curtain rose . O, what a moment was that ! But I knew at once that yon were; you had but to appear from your carriage, and 1 knew it. 0, she must be a fortunate young lady ' And 1 have no fear with yon, none-a perfect confidence." " Madam," said I, " a gentleman." u r ^A^f^ "^^f ^ ^ mean-a gentleman," she exclaimed. And he-and that-he isn't. 0, how shall I dare meet tatJier ! And disclosing to me her tear-stained face, and opening her arms with a tragic gesture : " And I am quite disgraced before all the young ladies, my school compan- ions!" she added. ^ '' 0, not so bad as that ! " I cried. -Come, come, you exaggerate my dear Miss ? Excuse me if I am too lamiliar : I have not yet heard your name.'* -My name is Dorothy Greensleeves, sir : why should I conceal it ? I fear it will only serve to point an adage to future generations, and I had meant so differently ' There was no young female in the county more emulous to be thought well of than I. And what a fall was there ! « ■: ill 246 ST. IVES dear me, what a wicked, piggish donkey of a girl I have made of myself, to be sure ! And there is no hope ' O Ml " ^ ■ * And at that she paused and asked my name. ^ am not writing my eulogium for the Academy ; I will admit it was unpardonably imbecile, but I told it her. If you had been there— and seen her, ravishingly pretty and httle, a baby in years and mind— and heard her talking like a book, with so much of schoolroom propriety in her manner, with such an innooput despair in the matter— you would probably have tok .^i- yours. She repeated it after me. " I shall pray for you all my life," she said. "Every night, when I retire to re3t, the last thing I shall do is to remember you by name." Presentl) I succeeded in winning from her her tale which was much what I had anticipated : a tale of a schooihouse, a walled garden, a fruit-tree that concealed a bench, an impudent raff posturing in church, an exchange of flowers and vows over the garden wall, a silly schoolmate for a confidante, a chaise and four, and the most immedi- ate and perfect disenchantment on the part of the little lady " And there is nothing to be done ! " she wailed in conclusion. " My error is irretrievable, I am quite forced to that conclusion. 0, Monsieur de Saint-Yves ' Who would have thought that I could have been such a blind wicked donkey ! " ' I should have said before-only that I really do not know when it came in— that we had been overtaken by the two post-boys, Rowley and Mr. Bellamy, which was the hawbuck s name, bestriding the four post-horses ; and that these formed a sort of cavalry escort, riding now before now behind the chaise, and BolLuny occadoimlly posturing at the window and obliging us with some of his conversa- 0, ADVENTURE OF THE RUNA v^AY COUPLE 247 tion He was so ill received that I declare I was tempted to pity him remembering from what a height he had fallen and how few hours ago it was since the lady had herself fled to his arms, all blushes and ardour. WeH these gi-eat strokes of fortune usually befall the unworthy; and Bellamy was now the legitimate object of my com! miseration and the ridicule of his own post-boys t "Miss Dorothy," said I, "you wish to be ' delivered from this man ?" uenvtieu leiice^'' '^ '* ''''''' ^'''''^^'' ■ " '^'^ '''"'^'^* " ^"^- "^*^ ^y ^'^0- thin^^'i! i^f ^'''w ''^' '"'''"''" ^ ''^'^''^- " The simplest Wi'ArT'u'';'/"'^' "^" ^°* «^^^ dream it! W ith all his faults, I know he is not fhat." . '' "^"^ri' ^'''' "' ^^'' ™''^ "' *^'^^ aflfair-on the wrong side of the law, call it what you please," said I ; and with that, our four horsemen having for the moment headed us by a considerable interval, I hailed my post-boy and inquired who was the nearest magistrate and where he lived. Arch- deacon Clitheroe, he told me, a prodigious dignitary, and one who lived but a lane or two back, and at the distance of on y a mile or two out of the direct roa.l. I showed him the king's medallion. " Take the lady there, and at full gallop," I cried - Kight sir ! Mind yourself," says the postilion. ' And before I could have thought it possible, he had turned the carnage to tlie right-about and we were gallop- ing south. gaiiup Our outriders were quick to remark and imitate the mancBuvre, and came flying after us with a vast deal of indiscriminate sliouting ; so that the fine, sober picture of a carnage and escort, that we had presented but a moment :' l' 248 ST. IVES back, was tranaformed in the twinklijig of tm ey,; into tha image of a noisy fox-chase. The two postilions and rny own saucy rogue were, of course, disinterested actors in the comedy ; t)iey rodo /or the mere sport, keeping in a body, their mouths full of laughter, wavLig their lats aa they came on, and cryiri^ (u„ the fancy struck them) •'Tally-ho!" '' Stop thief !" 'A highwayman! A liigh- wayman ! " It was otherguess -voi-k with Bellamy. Tiiat gentleman no sooner observed our change of direction than he turned his horse with so much violence that the poor :«ii!nul was almost cast upon its side, and launched her in in) mediate and desperate pursuit. As he approached I iiow that his face was deadly whiti^ and that he carried a drawn pistol in his hand. I turneO at once to the poor little bride that was to have been, and now was not to be ; she, upon her side, deserting the other window, turned as if to meet me. "0, 0, don't let him kill me ! " she screamed. " Never fear," I replied. Her face was distorted with terror. Her hands took hold upon me with the instinctive clutch of an infant. The chaise gave a flying lurch, which took the feet from under me and tumbled us anyhow upon the seat. And almost in the same moment the head of Bellamy appeared in the window which Missy had left free for him. Conceive the situation ! The little lady and I were fall, ing— or had just fallen— backward on the seat, and offered to the eye a somewhat ambiguous picture. The chaise was speeding at a furious pace, and with the most violent leaps and lurches, along the highway. Into this bounding receptacle Bellamy interjected his : r d, his pistol arm, and his pistol ; and since his own he -as travelling still fastc^. ban the chaise, he mus^ 'itb. xw all of them again in tl... .^side of the fraction of >, miaute. He did so, but )'':■ into the [18 and Any i actors in Beping in a eir lats m uck them) ! A liigh- my. Tliat jction than t the poor heel her in )roached I i carried a ) the poor not to be ; turned as took hold ant. The ;'om under almost in ed in the were fall- nd offered 'he chaise st violent bounding stol arm, jlling still lem again id so, but ADVENTURE OP THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 249 he left the charge of the pistol behind him— whether by design or accident I sliall never know, and 1 daresay he has forgotten ! Probably he had only meant to threaten, in hopes of causing us to arrest our flight. In the same moment came the explosion and a pitiful cry from Missy ; and my gentleman, making certain he had struck her, went down the road pursued by the furies, turned at the first corner, took a flying leap over the thorn hedge, and disappeared across country in the least possible time. Rowley was ready and eager to pursue ; but I withheld him, thinking we were excellently quit of Mr. Bellamy, at no more cost than a scratch on the forearm and a bullet- hole in the left-hand claret-coloured panel. And accord- ingly, but now at a more decent pace, we proceeded on our Avay to Archdeacon Clitheroe's. Missy's gratitude and ad- miration were aroused to a high pitch by this dramatic scene, and what she was pleased to call my wound. She must dress it for mo with her handkerchief, a service wliich she rendered me even with tears. I could well have spared them, not loving on the whole to be made ridiculous, and the injury being in the nature of a cat's scratch. In- deed, I would have suggested for her kind care rather the cure of my coat-sleeve, which had suffered worse in the encounter; but I was too wise to risk the anti-climax. That she had been rescued by a hero, that the hero should have been wounded in the affray, and his wound bandaged with her handkerchief (which it could not even bloody), ministered incredibly to the recovery of her self-respect ; and I could hear her relate the incident to " the young • ladies, my school-companions," in the most approved man- ner of Mrs. Radcliffe ! To have insisted on the torn coat- sleeve would have been unmannerly, if not inhuman. Presently tlio residence of the archdeacon began to heave in sight. A chaise and four smoking horses stood by the 250 ST. IVES Steps and made way for us on our approach ; and even as we alighted there appeared from the interior of the house a tall ecclesiastic, and beside him a little, headstrong ruddy man, m a towering passion and brandishing over his head a roll of paper. At sight of him Miss Dorothy flung herself on her knees with the most moving adjura- tions calling him fatlier, assuring him she was wholly cured and entirely repentant of her disobedience, and en- treating forgiveness ; and I soon saw that she need fear no great severity from Mr. Greensleoves, who showed himself extraordinarily fond, loud, greedy of caresses and prodigal To give myself a countenance, as well as to have all ready for the road when I should find occasion, I turned to quit scores with Bellamy's two postilions. They had not tlie least claim on me, but one of which they were quite ignorant-tliat I was a fugitive. It is the worst feature of that false position that every gratuity becomes a case of conscience. You must not leave behind vou any one discontented nor any one grateful. But the wliole business had been such a - hurrah-boys" from the begin- ning, and had gone off in the fifth act so like a melodrama, in explosions reconciliations, and tlie rape of a post-horse, that It was plainly impossible to keep it covered. It was plain It would have to be talked over in all the inn-kitchens for thirty miles about, and likely for six months to come. It only remained for me, therefore, to settle on that gratuity which should be least conspicuous~so large that nobody could grumble, so small that nobody would be tempted to boast. My decision was liastily and not wisely taken. The one fellow spat on his tip (so he called it) for luck ; the other, developing a sudden streak of piety, prayed God bless me with fervour. It seemed a demon! stration was brewing, and I determined to be off at once ■4 s nd even as the house eadstrong, ihing over s Dorothy ig adjura- as wholly 3, and en- ed fear no 'd himself I prodigal have all I turned rhey had they wei'e lie worst )ecomcs a you any lie whole lie begin- lodrama, •st-horse, It was kitchens io come, on that rge that 'ould be )t wisely d it) for f piety, demon- [it ouce. ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 251 Bidding my own post-boy and Rowley be in readiness for an immediate start, I reascended the terrace and presented myself, hat in hand, before Mr. Grcensleeves and the arch- deacon. '' You will excuse me, I trust," said I. " I think shame to interrupt tliis agreeable scene of family effusion, which I have been privileged in some small degree to bring about." And at these words the storm broke. " Small degree ! small degree, sir ! " cries the father ; " that shall not pass, Mr. St. Eaves ! If I've got my darling back, and none the worse for that vagabone rascal, I know whom I have to thank. Shake hands with me— up to the elbows, sir ! A Frenchman you may ,'. e, but you're one of the right breed, by God ! And, by Gnd, sir, you may have anything you care to ask of me, do vu to Dolly's hand, by God ! " All this he roared out in a voice surprisingly powerful from so small a person. Every word was thus audible to the servants, who had followed them out of the house and now congregated about us on the terrace, as well as to Rowley and the five postilions on the gravel sweep below. The sentiments expressed were popular ; some ass, whom the devil moved to be my enemy, proposed three r^bpors, and they were given with a will. To hear my o^\ ^\:iii,e res(Jundingamid acclamations in the hills of Westmoreland was flattering, perhaps ; but it was inconvenient at a mo- ment when (as I was morally persuaded) police handbills were already speeding after me at the rate of a hundred miles a day. :^r was that the end of it. The archdeacon must pre- sent his compliments, and press upon me some of his West India sherry, and I was carried into a vastly fine library, where I was presented to his lady wife. While ikm 252 ST. IVES we were at sherry in tiie library, ale was handed ronnd upon the terrace. Speeclies were made, hands were shak- en, Missy (at her hO. ' est) kissed me farewell, and the whole party roaccoinpanied me to tlie terrace, where tliey stood waving hats and handkerchiefs, and crying fare- wells to all the echoes of the mountains until the chaise had disappeared. The echoes of the mountains were engaged in saying to me privately : - You fool, you have done it now ! " " They do seem to have got 'old of your name, Mr Anne, ' said Kowley. - It weren't my fault this time." "It was one of those accidents that can never be fore- seen," said I, aifectin^ a dignity that I was far from feel- "ig. " Some on^ recognised me." "Which on 'em, Mr. Anne ?" said the rascal. "That is a senseless question; it can make no differ- ence who it was," I returned. "No, nor that it can't !" cried Rowley. "I say Mr Anne sir, it's wh.t you would call a jolly mess, ain't it ? looks like 'clean bowled out in the middle stump/ don't It i "I fail to nnderstaial you, Rowley." "Well, what I mean is, what are we to do about this one ? pointing to the postilion in front of us, as he al- ternately hia and reveale^l his patched breeches to the trot of his horse. " He see you gel in this morning under Mr Kamornie-I was very i,: euLar to Mr. Mamonne you, if you remember, sir- nd he see you get in again under Mr. Saint Eaves, and - ,te r's he going to see you get out • under ? that s wh. .von. s me, sir. It don't seem to me like as if the position was what you call .uatetegic ! " ''ParrrbJeu! will you let me be !" I crieu,' <'l have to think ; you cannot imagine how your constant idiotic prattle annoys me." led ronnd i^ere shak- iwell, and ce, where ying fare- he chaise saying to ime, Mr. time." r be foro- rom feel- 10 difTer- say, Mr. lin't it ? p/ don't out this 18 he al- the trot der Mr. you, if der Mr. fret out u to me I have idiotic ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 263 "Beg pardon, Mr. Anne," said he; and the next mo- ment, " You wouldn't like for us to do our French now Avould you, Mr. Anne ? " ' " Certainly not," said I. <' Play upon your flageolet." The which he did, with what seemed to me to be irony. Conscience doth make cowards of us all ! I was so downcast by my pitiful mismanagement of the morning's business, that 1 slirank from the eye of my own hired in- fant, and read offensive meanings into his idle tootling. I took off my coat, and set to mending it, soldier-fash- ion, with a needle and thread. There is nothing more conducive to thought, above all in arduous circumstances ; and as I sewed, I gradually gained a clearness upon my affairs. I must be done with the claret-coloured chaise at once. It should be sold at the next stage for what it would bring. Rowley and I must take back to the road on our four feet, and after a decent interval of trudging, get places on some coach for Edinburgh again under' n'ew names ! So much trouble and toil, so much extra risk and expense and loss of time, and all for a slip of the tongue to a little lady in blue 1 '■^} t il Hi CHAPTER XXIV THE INN-KEEPER OF KIHKBY-LONSDALE I HAD liitherto conceived and partly carried out an ideal that was dear to my lieart. Kowley and I descended hum our claret-coloured chaise, a couple of correctly dressed, brisk, bright-eyed young fellows, like a j)air of ari.^ocratic mice ; attending singly to our own affairs, communicating solely with each other, and that with tiie niceties and civ- ilities of drill. We would pass through the little crowd before the door with high-bred preoccupation, inoffensively haughty, after the best English pattern ; and disappear within, followed by the envy and admiration of the by- standers, a model master and servant, i)oint-device in every part. It was a heavy thought to me, as we drew up before the inn at Kirkby-Lonsdale, that this scene was now to be enacted for the last time. Alas ! and had I known it, it was to go off with so inferior a grace ! I had been injudiciously liberal to the post-boys of the chaise and four. My own post-boy, he of the patched breeches, now stood before me, liis eyes glittering with greed, his hand advanced. It was plain he anticipated something extraordinary by way of a pourhoire ; and con- sidering the marches and counter-marches by which I had extended the stage, the military character of our affairs with Mr. Bellamy, and the bad example I had set before him at the archdeacon's, something exceptional was cer- tainly to be done. But these ne always nice questions, to 254 THE INN-KEEPER OF KIKKI3Y-L0N.SDALE 255 a foreigner above all ; a shade too little will suggest nig- gurdliness, a shilling too much smells of hush-money. Fresh from the scene at the archdeacon's, and flushed by the idea that 1 was now nearly done with the rcsponsibil- ities of the claret-coloured chaise, I put into his hands five guineas ; and the amount served only to waken his cupiility. " 0, come, sir, you ain't going to fob me off with this ? Why, I seen fire at your side !" he cried. It would never do to give him more ; I felt I should become the fable of Kirkby-Lonsdale if I did ; and I looked him in the face, sternly but still smiling, and addressed him with a voice of uncon^jromising firmness. " If you do not like it, give it back," said I. lie pocketed tiie guineas with the quickness of a con- jurer, and like a base-born cockney as he was, fell instantly to casting dirt. '"Ave your own way of it, Mr. Ramornie— leastways Mr. St. Eaves, or whatever your blessed name may be. Look 'ere "—turning for sympathy to the stable-boys— " this IS a blessed business. Blessed 'ard, I calls it. 'Ere I takes up a blessed son of a pop-gun what calls hisself any- thing you care to mention, and turns out to be a blessed iiioNHseer at the end of it ! 'Ere 'ave I been drivin' of him up and down all day, a-carrying off of gals, a-shootin' of pistyds, and a-drinkin' of sherry and hale ; and wot does he up and give me but a blank, blank, blanketing blank !" The fellow's language had become too powerful for re- production, a\K\ I pass it by. Meanwhile I observed Rowley fretting visibly at the bit • another moment, and he would have added a last touch of the ridiculous to our arrival by coming to his hands with the postilion. " Rowley ! " cried I reprovingly. 1 ;i i i^ .1 j r i 1 1 ■ i I i 256 ST. IVES Strictly it should have been Gammon ; but in the hurry of the moment, my fault (I can only hope) passed unper- ceived. At the same time I caught the eye of the post- master. He was long and lean, and brown and bilious ; he had the drooping noso of the humourist, and the quick at- tention of a man of parts. He read my embarrassment in a glance, stepped instantly forward, sent the post-boy to the right-about with half a word, and was back next mo- ment at my side. *' Dinner in a private room, sir ? Very well. John, No. 4 ! What wine would you care to mention ? Very well, sir. AVill you please to order fresh horses ? Not sir ? Very well." Each of these expressions was accompanied by something in the nature of a bow, and all were prefaced by something in the nature of a smile, which I could very well have done without. The man's politeness was from the teeth outwards ; behind and within, i was conscious of a perpet- ual scrutiny : the scene at his doorstep, the random con- fidences of the post-boy, had not been thrown away on this observer ; and it was under a strong fear of coming trouble that I was shown at last into my private room. I was in half a mind to have put off the whole business. But the truth is, now my name had got abroad, my fear of the mail that was coming, and the liandbills it should contain, had waxed inordinately, and I felt I could never eat a, meal in peace till I had severed my connection with the claret- coloured chaise. Accordingly, as soon as I had done with dinner, I sent my compliments to the landlord and requested he should take a glass of wine with me. He came ; we exchanged the nec- essary civilities, and presently I approached my business. "By-the-bye," said I, " we had a brush down the road to-day. 1 dare say you may have heard of it ? " the hurry 3d unper- the post- lious ; he quick at- isment in ist-boy to lext nio- . John, ? Very ? Not, mething mething ell have le teeth t perpet- om con- ' on this trouble [ was in But the the mail lin, had meal in claret- sent my lid take the nec- siness. he road THE INN-KEEPER OF KIRKBY-LONSDALE 257 He nodded. " And I was so unlucky as to get a pistol ball in the panel of my chaise," I continued, " which makes it simply useless to me. Do you know any one likely to bny ? " " I can well understand that," said the landlord. " I was looking at it just now ; it's as good as ruined, is tiiut chaise. General rule, people don't like chaises with bullet holes." "Too much Romance of the Forest?" I suggested, re- calling my little friend of the morning, and what I was sure had been her favourite reading — Mrs. Radcliffe's novels. *' Just so," said he. " Tliey may be right, they may be wrong ; Fm not the judge. But I suppose it's natural, after all, for respectable people to like things respectable about them ; not bullet holes, nor puddles of blood, nor men with aliases." I took a glass of wine and held it up to the light to show that my hand was steady. " Yes," said I, " I suppose so." "You have papers, of course, showing you are the proper owner ? " he inquired. " There is the bill, stamped and receipted," said I, tossing it across to him. He looked at it. " This all you have ? " he asked. " It is enough, at least," said I. "It shows you where I bought and Avhat I paid for it." " Well, I don't know," he said. " You want some paper of identification." " To identify the chaise ?" I inquired. " Not at all : to identify you," said he. "My good sir, remember yourself!" said I. "The title-deeds of my estate are in that despatch-box ; but you do not seriously suppose that I should allow you to ex- amine them ?" 17 258 ST. IVES i : i .1 ! " That-full weT„tdT„?ttVh "?""■'' "" '°"°- you are Mr. Ram„r„fe .° ' '"""'"'^ '» l"'"™ '» ">« ".at "Fellow!" cried I. thing I will ,-„ b'i for H ' ''™"' "'''• ■' ™'' »>»•■ to go\e,„re .Cg- IV.' t;^ ^rtlS"' n^ "[ fine e,,„„gl,, I hope the n,agi.strates are." ' "' """ My good man," I stainnierc.1, tor thourf, I \„a t , my vo.ee, I could scarce be s-,i< t„ \. """'' wi^^ •• this is ,„„st unusual ; 're ;: 1^^"' "^ iliJit depends/ siiid lie '' Whm, -f' ^^'^^^a. gentlemen are spies it \ L ! ^ ' «"«pected that I^tnopistoSstiVS::^^^^^^^^^ Mirely, sir, you do nie strange injustice '^' .n,-^ t the master of myself " Vnn c "'J";^^!^^ 1 said I, now "^ent of tranon 11 ?f. n. r J"' '^**'"^ ^''''' ^ ^o""- -^t nmbnlgiiryo^" ' ' ""' ' '^^^"^"^^ towine with- ouf some „i :l lo 1>?"" ""/'. ''''' ^'^ '"^'"^- wnuH not car f T V ^ '" oapitnlate. At least. I not capitulate one moment too soon, B Mr. Ra- lie fellow, o me that " Fellow, m fellow, on like — 5 ; I hear getting and one fht when lort, sir, 't know ipers, or I'm not 1 found red my custom I ?" ed that custom nake a eman ! I. now monu- i with- in, no siness aat, J I THE INN-KEEPER OP KIRKBY-LONSDALE 259 *' Am I to take that for no 9 " he asked. "Referring to your former obliging proposal ?" said I. *' My good sir, you are to take it, as you say, for ' No.' Certainly I will not show you my deeds ; certainly I will not rise from table and trundle out to see your magistrates. I have too much respect for my digestion, and too little curiosity in justices of tlie peace." He leaned forward, looked me nearly in the face, and reached out one hand to the bell-rope. " See here, my fine fellow ! " said he. " Do you see that bell-rope ? Let me tell you, there's a boy waiting below : one jingle, and he goes to fetch the constable." "Do you tell me so?" said I. "Well, there's no accounting for tastes ! I have a prejudice against the society of constables, but if it is your fancy to have one in for the dessert " I shrugged my shoulders lightly. "Really, you know," I added, "this is vastly entertaining. I assure you, I am looking on, with all the interest of a man of the world, at the development of your highly origi- nal character." He continued to study my face without speech, his hand still on the button of the bell-rope, his eyes in mine ; this was the decisive heat. My fac,' seemed to myself to dislimn under his gaze, my expression to change, the smile (with which I had begun) to degenerate into the grin of the man upon the rack. I was besides harassed with doubts. An innocent man, I argued, would have resented the fellow's impudence an hour ago ; and by my continued endurance of the ordeal, I was simply signing and sealing my confes- sion ; in short, I had reached the end of my powers. " Have you any objection to my putting my hands in my breeches pockets ? " I inquired. " Excuse me mentioning it, but you showed yourself so extremely nervous a moment back.'* 260 ST. IVES li-: My TOice was not all I could have wished bnt it =„ffi j or'ueT " ir'"" ""' '"^ '"<''°* '™;t:M not. He turned away and drew a Ion- breatl, „,L ° ...ay be sure I was quio-. to follow his e.^n^^r ' ' '"" said he" ''Al ''""," "* '''"''' "■"' """'^ "«. =».■' I like " ake it M r" '*:'"" >'"" P''^''^''' I'" deal square. 1% formo'/LX'"'™'" '°™''' '"'""^ "■>•'"««' V this '^to*'", tiua you know you numf o-pf if ..«; your hunds somehow " ^ * '* ^^ =:::;reott?ir»'''"^f'''" This I did wi . H ? ^''''' '"' *'•" ^"^^'^^^•'^'^ to laugh. J-nisi did with the most complete abandonment fill ihL tears ran down n.y cheeks ; and ever and 2,1 e fi abated, I would get another view of the lanXn'f go off into another paroxysm. ^ ' ^''''' ^^"^ I Pn-5''"!'^'^" ''^^*"'''' ^'°" "''" ^« tl^e death of me vet ' " 1 cried, drying my eyes. ^^*^ ' My friend was now whollv disconnp,-fa,i . i , where to look, nor yet what l^T^tJ:^^Zrl tnne to conceive it possible he was mistake^ '"' « You seem rather to enjoy a langh, sir," said he. agai"' ^ "'" '^""' "" ""S"'"''" I ■■"Pli^d, and laughed Presently, in a changed voice he nff„».l pounds for the chnicp ■ r i '"' ™® '""^'J Ised with the otr ; ,,'.'"' "^ '" '«'.'.V-five, and ....j :" ; ! '. .°"'" • ".deed, I was glad to irct™vH,;„„ . «a .. . nagg,ea, u was not ,n the d«,ire of gainrbuTw'ilh THE INN-KEEPER OE KIRKBY-LONSDALE 261 the view at any price of securing a safe retreat. For, although hostilities were suspended, he was yet far from satisfied ; and I could read his continued suspicions in the cloudy eye that still hovered about my face. At lust they took shape in words. " This is all very well," says he : " you carry it off well ; but for all that, I must do my duty." I had my strong effect in reserve ; it was to burn my ships with a vengeance ! 1 rose. " Leave the room," said I. '' This is insufferable. Is the man mad ?" And then, as if already half ashuuied of my passion : " I can take a joke as well as any one," 1 added ; "but this passes measure. Send my servant and the bill." When lie luid left me alone, I considered my own valour with amazement. I had insulted him. ; I had sent him away alone ; now, if ever, lie would take what was the only sensible resource, and fetch the constable. But there was something instinctively treacherous about the man, which shrank from plain courses. And, witli all his cleverness, he missed the occasion of fame. Kowley and I were suffered to walk out of his door, with all our baggage, on foot, with no destination named, except in the vague statement that we were come "to view the lakes"; and my friend only watched our departure with his chin in his hand, still moodily irresolute. I think tliis one of my great successes. I was exposed, unmasked, summoned to do a perfectly natural act, which must prove my doom and which I had not the slightest pretext for refusing. J kept my head, stuck to my guns, and, against all likelihood, herf- } was once more at liberty and in the king's higliway. This was a strong lesson never to despair ; and at the same time, how maiiy hints to be ^H*4ons : aad what a perplexed and dnbious buBJness the whole question of my escape now appeared ! That I should I I t I 262 ST. IVES suffered myself to be d™ ' , tl™ '■ ""^ " ' '""■ "°' inn of Kirkhv r In Ji , t . " " '""^" "° '"•""« at the promised :;y^''™lff„t,'T?"'""" '" "^"■■'' """ none of my business to T,Za * k "I"'" '''^''"'"^- " ™» wrecked traveUe s T I / , ■"'"'" '■'"""=' »■■ *'P- ill fcion of a ' that per- lie initial ■t had not iences to 3le at the 5art, and !• It M'as or ship- my own i natural CHAPTER XXV I MEET A CHEERFUL EXTRAVAGANT I PASS over tlie next fifty or sixty leagues of our journey without comment. The reader must be growing weary of scenes of travel ; and for my own part I have no cause to recall those particular miles with any pleasure. We were mainly occupied with attempts to obliterate our trail, which (as the result showed) were far from successful ; for on my cousin following, he was able to run me home with the least possible loss of time, following the claret-coloured chaise to Kirkby-Lonsdale, where I think the landlord must have wept to learn what he had missed, and t.-acing us thereafter to the doors of the coach office in Edinburgh witiiout a single check. Fortune did not favour me, and why should I recapitulate the details of futile precautions wliicii deceived nobody, and wearisome arts which proved to be artless ? The day was drawing to an end when Mr. Rowley and I bowled into Edinburgh, to the stirring sound of the guard's bugle and the clattering team. I was here upon my field of battle ; on the scene of my former captivity, escape and exploits ; and in the same city with my love. My heart expanded ; I have rarely felt more of a hero. All down the Bridges, I sat by the driver with my arms folded and my face set, unflincliingly meeting every eye, and prepared every moment for a cry of recognition. Hundreds of the population were in the habit of visiting the Castle, where S63 j I H 264 ST. IVES it was my practice (before the clays of Flora) to make my- self conspicuous among tlie prisoners ; and I think it an ex- tr ordinary thing that I should have encountered so few to recognise me. But doubtless a clean chin is a disguise in itself ; and the change is great from a suit of sulphur yel- low to fine linen, a well-fitting mouse-coloured great-coat furred in black, a pair of tight trousers of fashionable cut, and a hat of inimitable curl. After all, it was more likely that I should have recognised our visitors, than that they should have identified the modish gentleman with the mis- erable prisoner in the Castle. I was glad to set foot on the flagstones, and to escape from the crowd that had assembled to receive the mail. Here we were, with but little daylight before us, and that on Saturday afternoon, the eve of the famous Scottish Sabbath, adrift in the New Town of Edinburgh, and over- laden with baggage. We carried it ourselves. I would not take a cab, nor so much as hire a porter, who might afterwards serve as a link between my lodgings and the mail, and connect me again with the claret-coloured chaise and Aylesbury. For I was resolved to break the chain of evidence for good, and to begin life afresh (;^o far as re- gards caution) with a new character. The first step was to find lodgings, and to find them quickly. This was the more needful as Mr. Rowley and I, in our smart clothes and with our cumbrous burthen, made a noticeable appearance in the streets at that time of the day and in that quarter of the town, v^hich was largely given up to fine folk, bucks and dandies and young ladies, or respectable professional men on their way home to dinner. On the north side of St. James's Square I was so happy as to spy a bill in a third-floor window. I was equally in- different to cost and couvcniencc in my choice of a lodging — " any port in a storm " was the principle on Avhich I was I MEET A CHEERFUL TRAVAGANT 265 make my- k it an ex- [ so few to iisguise in Ipliur yel- great-coat liable cut, lore likely that they 1 the mis- to escape the mail. and that Scottish and over- I would ho might and the red chaise J chain of far as re- ;ep was to i was the othes and jpearance luarter of Ik, bucks ofessional so happy ^ually in- a lodging lich I was I i'. prepared to act ; and Rowley and I made at once for the common entrance and scaled the stair. We were admitted by a very sour-looking female in bom- bazine. I gathered she had all her life been depressed by a series of bereavements, the last of which might very well have befallen her the day before ; and I instinctively low- ered my voice when I addressed her. She admitted she had rooms to let— even showed them to us— a sitting-room and bedroom in a suite, commanding a fine prospect to the Firth and Fifcshire, and in themselves well proportioned and comfortably furnished, with pictures on the wall, shells on the mantelpiece, and several books upon the table, which I found afterwards to be all of a devotional charac- ter, and all presentation copies, " to my Christian friend," or "to my devout acquaintance in the Lord, Bethiah McRanken." Beyond this my " Christian friend " could not be made to advance : no, not even to do that which seemed the most natural and pleasing thing in the world— I mean to name her price— but stood before us shaking her head, and at times mourning like the dove, the picture of depression and defence. She had a voice the most querulous I have ever heard, and with this she produced a .whole regiment of difficulties aiul criticisms. She could not promise us attendance. ''Well, madam," said I, "and what is my servant for ? " " Ilim ? " she asked. " Be gude to us ! Is he your ser- vant ? " " I am sorry, ma'am, he m-ets with your disapproval." "Na, I never said that. But he's young. He'll be a great breaker, Fm thinkin'. Ay ! he'll be a great respon- sibeolity to ye, like. Does he attend to his releegion ? " " Yes. m'm," returned Rowley, with admirable promp- titude, and, immcdi;^^elJ -losing his eyes, as if from habit, 266 ST. IVE8 repeated the following distich with more celerity thau fervour r — " Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, Bless the bed that I lie on ! " "Nhm!" said the lady, and maintained an awful si. lence. ''Well, ma'am," said I, -it seems we are never to hear the heginning of your terms, let alone the end of them. Come~u good movement ! and let us he either off or on " _ She opened her lips slowly. " Ony rufereuceb ? " she mquired, in a voice like a bell. I opened my pocket-book and showed her a handful of bank-bills. " I think, madam, that these are unexception- abic/' ;.,aid I. ^ '' Ye'll be wantin' breakfast late ? " was her reply. ''7iadam,we want breakfast at whatever hour it suits you to give it, from four in the morning till four in the afternoon !" I cried. " Only tell us your figure, if your mouth be large enougli to let it out ! " ^1 1 couldnae give ye supper the nicht," came the echo. " We shall go out to supper, you incorrigible female ! " I voweil, between laughter and tears. " If ere— this is going to end ! I want you for a landlady-let me tell you that .'—and I am going to have my way. You won't tell me what you charge ? Very well ; I will do without ! I can trust you ! You don't seem to know when you liave a good lodger; but I know perfectly when I have an honest landlady ! Rowley, unstrap the valises ! " Will it be credited ? The monomaniac fell to rating me for my indiscretion ! But the battle was over ; these were Jier last guns, and more in the nature of a salute than of renewed hostilities. And presently phe condescended on very moderate terms, and Rowley and I were able to escape I MEET \ CHEERFUL EXTRAVAGANT 267 in qiiost of supper. Much time had, however, been lost ; the sun was long down, the himps glimmered along tho streets, and the voice of a watchman already resounded in the neighbouring Leith Road n our first arrival I had observed a place of entertain. . not far off, in a street behind tbc Register House. Thither we found our way, and sat down to a late dinner alone. But we had scarce given our orders before the door oi)eiu-(l, and a tall young fellow entered with something of a lurch, looked about him, and approached the same table. "Give you good evening, most grave and reverend se- niors ! " said he. " Will you permit a wanderer, a pilgrim —the pilgrim of love, in short— to come to temporary anch- or under your lee ? I :are not who knows it, but I have a passionate aversion from the bestial practice of solitary feeding ! " " You are welcome, sir," said I, " if I may take upon me so far to play the host in a public place." He looked startled, and fixed a hazy eye on me, as he sat down. " Sir," said he, " you are a man not without some tinct- ure of letters, 1 perceive ! What shall we drink, sir ? " ■I mentioned I had already called for a pot of porter. " A modest pot— the seasonable quencher ? " said he. " Well, I do not know but what I could look at a modest pot myself ! I am, for the moment, in precarious health. Much study hath heated my brain, much walking wearied my — well, it seems to be more my eyes ! " " You have walked far, I daresay ? " I suggested. " Not so much far as often," he replied. '' There is in this city— to which, I thiiik, you are a stranger ? Sir, to your very good health, and our better acquaintance !- there is, m tnis city of Dunedin, a certain implication of Streets which rejects the utmost credit on the designer and IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 1.25 IIIM 12.2 1.1 I -^ IIIM 1.4 1.8 1.6 <^ /a Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 m \ c\ \ <^- 6^ <^s % 268 ST. IVES the publicans— at every hundred yards is seated the Judi- cious Tavern, so that persons of contemplative mind are secure, at moderate distances, of refreshment. I have been doing a trot in that favoured quarter, favoured by art and nature. A few chosen comrades — enemies of publicity and friends to wit and wine— obliged me with their society. 'Along the cool, sequestered vale of Register Street we kept tlic uneven tenor of our way,' sir." " It struck me, as you came in " I began. " 0, don't make any bones about it ! " he interrupted. " Of course it struck you ! and let me tell you, I was dev- ilish lucky not to strike myself. When I entered this apartment I shone ' with all the pomp and prodigality of brandy and water,' as the poet Gray has in another place expressed it. Powerful bard. Gray ! but a niminy-piminy creature, afraid of a petticoat and a bottle — not a man, sir, not a man ! Excuse me for being so troublesome, but what the devil have I done with my fork ? Thank you, I am sure. Temuhntia, quoad me ipsum, brevis colligo est. I sit and eat, sir, in a London fog. I should bring a link- boy to table with me ; and I would too, if the little brutes were only washed ! I intend to found a Philanthropical Society for Washing the Deserving Poor and Shaving Sol- diers. I am pleased to observe that, although not of an unmilitary bearing, you are apparently shaved. In my calendar of the vi.tues, shaving comes next to drinking. A gentleman may be a low-minded ruffian without six- pence, but he will always be close shaved. See me, with the eye of fancy, in the chill hours of the morning, say about a quarter to twelve, noon — see me awake ! First thing of all, without one thought of tlie plausible but un- satisfactory small beer, or the healthful though insipid soda-water, I take the deadly razor in my vacillating grasp ; I proceed to skate upon the margin of eternity. I MEET A CHEERFUL EXTRAVAGANT 2C9 Stimulating thought ! I bleed, perliaps, but with medica- ble Avounds. The stubble reaped, I pass out of my cham- ber, calm but triumphant. To employ a hackneyed phrase, I would not call Lord Wellington my uncle ! I, too, luive dared, perhaps bled, before the imminent deadly sliaving table." In this manner the bombastic fellow continued to enter- tain me all through dinner, and by a common error of drunkards, because ho had been extremely talkative him- self, leaped to the conclusion tliat he had chanced on very genial company. He told me his name, his address ; he begged we sliould meet again ; fiiudly he proposed that I should dine with him in the country at an early date. "The dinner is official," he explained. "The office- bearers and Senatus of the University of Cramond— an educational institution in which I have the honour to be Professor of Nonsense— meet to do honour to our friend Icarus, at the old-established houf\ Cramond Bridge. One place is vacant, fascinating stranger,— I offer it to you I" "And who is your friend Icarus ?" I asked. " The aspiring son of Da3dalus ! " said he. <' Is it pos- sible that you have never heard the name of Byfield ? " " Possible and true," said I. ^ "And is fame so small a thing ?" cried he. '■ Byfield, sir, is an aeronaut. He apes the fame of a Lunardi, and IS on the point of offering to the inhabitants— I beg your pardon, to the nobility and gentry of our neighbou^rliood —the spectacle of an ascension. As one of the gentry concerned, I may be permitted to remark that I am un- moved. I care not a Tinker's Damn for his ascension. No more— I breathe it in your ear— does anybody else The business is stale, sir, stale. Lunardi did it, and over- did It A whimsical, fiddling, vain fellow, by all accounts —for I was at that time rocking in my cradle. But once 270 ST. IVES was enough. If Lunardi went up and came down, there was the matter settled. We prefer to grant the point. We do not want to see the experiment repeated ad nau- seam by Byfield, and Brown, and Butler, and Brodie, and Bottomley. Ah ! if they would go up and not come down again ! But this is by the question. The University of Cramond delights to honour merit in the man, sir, rather than utility in the profession ; and Byfield, though an ignorant dog, is a sound, reliable drinker, and really not amiss over his cups. Under the radiance of the kindly * jar, partiality might even credit him with wit." It will be seen afterwards that this was more my busi- ness than I thought it at the time. Indeed, I was im- patient to be gone. Even as my friend maundered ahead, a squall burst, the jaws of the rain were opened against the coffee-house windows, and ut that inclement signal I remembered I was due elsewhere. CHAPTER XXVI THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT At the door I was nearly blown back by the nnbridled violence of the squall, and Kowley and I must shout our parting words. All the way along Princes Street (whither my way led) the wind hunted me behind and screamed in my ears. The city was flushed with bucketfuls of rain that tasted salt from the neighbouring ocean. It seemed to darken and lighten again in the vicissitudes of the gusts Aow you would say the lamps had been blown out from end to end of tiie long thoroughfare ; now, in a lull, they would revive, re-multiply, shine again on the wet pave- ments, and make darkness sparingly visible. By the time I liad got to the corner of the Lothian Road there was a distinct improvement. For one thing, I had now my shoulder to the wind ; for a second, I came in the lee of my old prison-house, the Castle ; and, at any rate, the excessive fury of the blast was itself moderating. The thought of what errand I was on re-awoke within me, and I seemed to breast the rough weather with increasing ease. \Mth such a destination, what mattered a little buffeting of wind or a sprinkle of cold water ? I recalled Flora's image I took her in fancy to my arms, and my heart throbbed. And the next moment I had recognised the in- anity of that fool's paradise. If I could spy her taper as she went to bed, I might count myself lucky. I hud about two leagues before me of a road mostly un- 271 ^ ^ 272 ST. IVES ,.'! I hiil, and now deep in mire. So soon as I was clear of the last street lamp, darkness received me — a darkness only pointed by the lights of occasional rustic farms, where the dogs howled with uplifted heads as I went by. The wind continued to decline : it had been but a squall, not a tem- pest. The rain, on the other hand, settled into a steady deluge, which had soon drenched me thoroughly. I con- tinued to tramp forward in tlie night, contending with gloomy thougiits and accompanied by the dismal ululatioii of the dogs. What ailed them that tliey should have been thus wakeful, and perceived the small sound of my stei)s "mid the general reverberation of the rain, was more than I (!Ould fancy. I remembered tales with which I had been entertained in childhood. I told myself some mur- derer was going by, and the brutes perceived upon him the faint smell of blood ; and the next moment, with a physi- cal sliock, I had applied the words to my own case ! Here was a dismal disposition for a lover. '"Was ever lady in this humour wooed ?" I asked m3^self, and came near turning back. It is never wise to risk a critical in- terview when your spirits are depressed, your clothes muddy, and your hands wet ! But the boisterous night was in itself favourable to my enterprise : now, or perhaps never, I might find some way to have an interview with Flora; and if I had one interview (wet clothes, low spirits and all), I told myself there would certainly be another. Arrived in the cottage garden, I found the circumstances mighty inclement. From the round holes in the shutters of the parlour, shafts of candle-light streamed forth ; else- where the darkness was complete. The trees, the thickets, were saturated ; the lower parts of the garden turned into a morass. At intervals, when the wind broke forth again, there passed overhead a wild coil of clashing branches ; and between whiles the whole enclosure continuously and I I • THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT 273 stridently resounded with the rain. I advanced close to the window and contrived to read the face of my watch. It was half-past seven ; they would not retire before ten, they might not before midnight, and Mie prospect was un- pleasjint. In a lull of the wind I could hear from the in- side the voice of Flora reading ahKid ; the words of course inaudible— only a flow of undecipherable speecb, quiet, cor- dial, colourless, more intimate and witining, more elorpient of her personality, but not less beautiful than song. And the next moment the clamour of a fresh squall broke out about the cottage ; the voice was drowned in its bellowing, and I was glad to retreat from my dangerous post. For three egregious hours I must now suffer the ele- ments to do tlieir worst upon me, and continue to hold my ground in patience. I recalled the least fortunate of my services in tlie field : being out-sentry of the pickets in weather iio less vile, sometimes unsuppered and with noth- ing to look forward to by way of breakfast but musket- balls ; and they seemed light in comparison. So strangely are we bnilt : so much more strong is the love of woman than the mere love of life. At last my patience was rewarded. The light disap- peared from the parlour and reap])eared a moment after in the room above. I was pretty well informed for the en- terprise that lay before me. I knew the lair of the dragon —that which was just illuminated. I knew the bower of my Kosamond, and how excellently it was placed on the ground level, round the flank of the cottage and out of earshot of her formidable aunt. Nothing was left but to apply my knowledge. I was then at the bottom of the garden, whither I had gone (Heaven save the mark !) for warmth, that I might walk to and fro unheard and keep myself from perishing. The night had fallen afcill, the wind ceased ; the noise of the rain had much lightened if 18 lii 1 t 274 ST. IVES it had not stopped, and was succeeded by the dripping of the garden trees. In the midst of this lull, and as I was already drawing near to the cottage, I was startled by the sound of a window-sash screaming in its channels ; and a step or two beyond I became aware of a gush of light upon the darkness. It fell from Flora's window, which slie had flung open on the night, and where she now sat, rosoute and pensive, in the shine of two candles falling from be- hind, her tresses deeply embowering and shading her ; the suspended comb still in one hand, tlie other idly clinging to the iron stanchions with which the window was barred. Keeping to the turf, and favoured by the darkness of the night and the patter of the rain which was now return- ing, though without wind, I approached until I could almost have touched her. It seemed a grossness of which I was incapable to break up her revorie by speech. I stood and drank her in with my eyes ; how the light made a glory in her hair, and (what I have always thought the most ravishing thing in nature) how the planes ran into each other, and were distinguished, and how the hues blended and varied, and were shaded off, between the cheek and neck. At first I was abashed : she wore her beauty like an immediate halo of refinement ; she discouraged me like an angel, or what I sus]>ect to be the next most dis- couraging, a modern lady. But as I continued to gaze, hope and life returned to me ; I forgot my timidity, I for- got the sickening pack of wet clothes with which I stood burdened, I tingled with new blood. Still unconscious of my presence, still gazing before her upon the illuminated image of the window, the straight shadows of the bars, the glinting of pebbles on the path, and the impenetrable night on the garden and the hills beyond it, she heaved a deep breath that struck upon my heart like an appeal. I M THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT 275 If " Why does Miss Gilchrist sigh ? " I whispered. '' Does she recall absent friends ? " She turned her head swiftly in my direction ; it was the only sign of surprise she deigned to make. At the same time I stepped forward into tlie light aiid bowed pro- foundly. "You!" she said. "Ilere.^" " Yes, I am here," I replied. " I have come very far, it may be a hundred and fifty leagues, to see you. I have waited all this night in your garden. Will Miss Gilchrist not offer her hand—to a friend In trouble ? " She extended it between the bars, and I droi)pod ui)on one knee on the wet path, and kissed it twice. At the second it was withdrawn suddenly, niethought with more of a start than she had hitherto displayed. 1 regained my former attitude, and we were both silent awhile. My timidity returned on me tenfold. I looked in her face for any signals of anger, and seeing her eyes to waver and fall aside from mine, augured that all was well. " You must have been mad to come here ! " she broke out. " Of all places under heaven, this is no place for vou to come. And I was just thinking you were si; • 'n France ! " ** You were thinking of me ! " I cried. <' Mr. St. Ives, you cannot understand your danger," she replied. '* I am sure of it, and yet I cannot find it in my heart to tell you. be persuaded, and go ! " " I believe I know the worst. But I was never one to set an undue value on life, the life that we share with beasts. My university has been in the wars, not a famous place of education, but one where a man learns to carry his life in his hand as lightly as a glove, and for his lady or his honour to lay it as lightly down. You appeal to m^ fears, and you do wrong. I have come to Scotland with my eyes 276 ST. IVES M;! quite open, to sec you and to spe.'ik with you— it may bo for the last time. With my eyes quite open, I say ; and if I did not hesitate at tlie beginning, do you think tliat I wouhl draw back now ? " "You do not know !" she cried, with rising agitation. " This country, even this garden, is deatli to you. Tliey all believe it ; I am the only one that does not. If they hear you now, if they lieard a whisper— I dread to think of it 0, go, go this instant. It is my prayer." " Dear lady, do not refuse me what I have come so far to seek ; and remember that out of all the millions in En"'- land there is no other but yourself in whom i can dare confide. I have all the world against me ; you are my only ally ; and as I have to speak, you have to listen. All is true that they say of me, and all of it false at the same time. I did kill this man Goguelat— it was that you meant ?" She mutely signed to me that it was ; she had become deadly pale. " But I killed him in fair fight. Till then, I had never taken a life unless in battle, which is my trade. But I was grateful, I was on fire with gratitude, to one who had been good to me, who had been better to me than I could have dreamed of an angel, who had come into the darkness of my prison like sunrise. The man Goguelat insulted her. 0, he had insulted me often, it was his favourite pastime, and he might insult me as he pleased- for who was I ? But with that lady it was different. I could never forgive myself if I had let it pass. And we fought, and he fell, and I have no remorse." I waited anxiously for some reply. The worst was now out, and I knew that she had hear I of it before; but it was impossible for me to go on with my narrative without some shadow of encouragement. " You blame me ? " THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT 277 it may "bo ly ; and if Ilk that I agitation. 'U. Tliey If tliey to think } so far to i in Eng- can dare e my only I. All is ime time. ant?" i become lad never But I was had been mid have I'kness of ilted her. pastime, was I ? :r foi-give 1 he fell, was now ! ; but it I without " No, not at all. It is a point I cannot speak on— I am only a girl. I am sure you were in the right : I have always said so— to Ronald. Not, of course, to my aunt. I am afraid I let her speak as she will. Vou must not think me a disloyal friend; and even with the Miijor— [ did not tell you he had become quite a friend of ours— Major Chevenix I mean-he has taken such a fancy to Konald ! It was he that brought the news to us of tiuit hateful Clausel being captured, and all that he was raying. I was indignant with Iiim. I said— I daresay I said too much— and I must say he was very good-natured. He said, * You and I, who are his friends, knoiv that Champ- divers is innocent. But what is the use of saying it?' All this was in the corner of the room, in what they call an aside. And then he said, 'Give me a chance to speak to you in private, I have much to tell you.' And he did. And told me just what you did— that it was an affair of honour, and no blame attached to you. 0, I must say I like that Major Chevenix ! " At this I was seized with a great pang of jealousy. I remembered the first time that he had seen her, the inter- est that he seemed immediately to conceive ; and I could not but admire the dog for the use he had been ingenious enough to make of our p.-naintance in order to supplant me.. All is fair in love a;irt war. For all that, I was now no less anxious to do the speaking myself than I had been before to hear Flora. At least, I could keep clear of the hateful image of Major Chevenix. Accordingly I burst at once on the narrative of my adventures. It was the same as you have read, but briefer, and told with a very dif- ferent purpose. Now every incident had a partfcular bearing, every by-way branched off to Rome-and that was Flora. When I had begun to speak, I had kneeled upon the 278 ST. IVES gravel M'ithoutsi.le the low window, rested my arms ui.on tlio sill, and lowered my voice to the most ooiifideutial whisper. Flora herself must kneel upon the other side and this brought our heads upon a level, with oidy the bars between us. So placed, so separated, it seemed that our in-oximity, and the continuous and low sounds of my pleading voice, worked progressively and powerfully on her heart, and i)erhaps not less so on my own. For these spells are double-edged. The silly birds may be chamied with the pij.o of the fowler, which is but a tube of reeds Not so with a bird of our own feather ! As I went on" and my resolve strengthened, and my voice found new modulations, and our faces were drawn closer to the bars and to oach other, not only she, but I, succumbed to the fascination and were kindled by the charm. We make love, and thereby ourselves fall the deeper in it. It is with the heart only that one captures a heart. " And now," I continued, - I will tell you what you can still do for me. I run a little risk just now, a ad you see for yourself how unavoidable it is for any man of honour But if-but in case of the worst, I do not choose to enrich either my enemies or the Prince Regent. I have here the bulk of what my uncle gave me. Eight thousand odd pounds. Will yon take care of it for me ? Do not think of It merely as money ; take and keep it as a relic of your friend or some precious piece of iiim. I may have bitter need of it ere long. Do you know the old country story of the giant who gave his heart to his wife to keep for him thinking it safer to repose on her loyalty than his owii strength ? Flora, I am the giant-a very little one • will you be the keeper of my life ? It is my heart I offer you in this symbol. In the sight of God, if you will have it, I give you my name, I endow you with my money. If the worst come, if I may never hope to calf you wife, let me THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT 279 'ms u])Oii iifideiitial lior side, only tlio mod tliMt, lis of my •fully on 'or tlieso (!lm«'nu'd of reeds, vent on, ind now the bars d to tlio ^e nijiko . It is you can you see lionour. enrich liere the ind odd it think of your e bitter ry story 'or him, lis own le : will Ter you ive it, 1 If the let me at least think that you will use my uncle's legacy as n.v widow." ■^ "No, not that," she said. " Never that." " What then ? " I said. - What else, my angel ? What nre words to me ? There is but one name that I care to know you by. Flora, my love ! " " Anno ! " she said. What sound is so full of music as one's own name uttered for the first time in the voice of her wo love ? "My darling! "said I. The jealous bars, set at the top and bottom in stone and lime, obstructed tlio rapture of the moment ; but I took her to myself as wholly us they allowed. 8he did not shun my hps. My arins were wound round her body, which yielded itself generously to my embrace. As we so re- mained, entwined and yet severed, bruising our faces un- consciously on the cold bars, the irony of the universe- or as I prefer to say, envy of some of the gods-ugain stn-red up the elements of tliat stormy ni lit. The wind blew again in the tree-tops ; a volley of cold sea-rain deluged the garden, and, as the deuce would Inve it a gutter which had been hitiun-to choked up. began sudden' y to play upon my head and shoulders vvitli the vivacity of a fountain. We parted with a sliook ; I sprang to my feet and -she to hers, as though we had been discovered. A moment after, but now both standing, we had again ap- preached the window on either side. " Flora," I said, " this is but a poor offer I can make you." She took my hand in hers and clasped it to her bosom "Rich enough for a queen !" she said, with a lift in her breathing that was more eloquent than words " Anne my brave Anne ! I would be glad to be your maidservant '; I could envy that boy Rowley. But, no ! " she broke otf, "I envy no one—I need not— I am yours." 280 ST. IVES I I iHBS&'3l 1 ' ^^S^'<^ 1 ' H'%' 1 ^^^^w^ K' K^ ^j I" ^s ^i r R i , li i: " Mine," said I, " for ever ! By this and this, mine ! "All ever ! " of me," she repeated. " Altogether, and for And if the god were envious, he must have seen with mortification how little he could do to mar the happiness of mortals. I stood in a mere waterspout ; she herself was wet, not from my embrace only, but from the splashing of the storm. The candles had gutted out ; we were in dark- ness. I could scarce see anything but the shining of her eyes in the dark room. To her I must have appeared as a silhouette, haloed by rain and the spouting of the ancient Gothic gutter above my head. Presently we became more calm and confidential ; and when that squall, which proved to be the last of the storm, had blown by, fell into a talk of ways and means. It seemed she knew Mr. Robbie, to whom I had been so slenderly accredited by Romaine — was even invited to his house for the evening of Monday, and gave me a sketch of the old gentleman's character, which implied a great deal of penetration in herself and proved of great use to me in the immediate sequel. It seemed he was an enthusiastic antiquary, and in particular a fanatic of heraldry. I heard it with delight, for I was myself, thanks to M. de Culemberg, fairly grounded in that science, and acquainted with the blazons of most families of note in Europe. And I had made up my mind — even as she spoke it was my fixed determination, though I Avas a hundred miles from 3aying it — to meet Flora on Monday night as a fellow-guest in Mr. Robbie's house. I gave her my money — it was, of course, only paper I had brought. I gave it her, to be her marriage portion, I declared. " Xot so bad a marriage portion for a private soldier," I told her, laughing, as I passed it through the bars. THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT 281 3, mine ! " r, and for seen with i happiness herself was plashing of ire in dark- ling of her peared us a ;he ancient " 0, Anne, and where am I to keep it ? " she cried. "If my aunt should find it ! What would I say ! " "Next your heart," I suggested. " Then you will always be near yonr treasure," she cried, "for you are always there !" We were interrupted by a sudden clearness that tell upon the night. The clouds dispersed ; the stars shone in every part of the heavens ; and, consulting my watch, I was startled to find it already hard on five in the morning. ntial ; and the storm, means. It id been so ited to his a sketch of great deal e to me in iithusiastic iraldry. I i to M. de acquainted ope. And is my fixed rom 3aying Licst in Mr. oaper I had portion, I e soldier," bars. i CHAPTER XXVII THE SABBATH DAY bnfwW T^'''^!''f *'"^? I «^^°"1^^ J^e gone from Swanston ; but what I was to do in the meanwlulo was another ques Uon. Row oy had received his orders last night : he was to say tlutt I had met a friend, and Mrs. MeRankine wa not o expect me before n.orning. A good enough Z^tu Itself; but lie dreadful i,iekle I was in made it out of the question. I could not go home till I had found harbou agt a fire to dry my clothes at, and a bed where I might lie till they were ready. ^ Fortune favoured me again. I had scarce got to the top of the first hill when I spied a light on my feft -^o t ;t furlong away. It might be a case ^f sickne^ ' w h.; ^ ' It was hkely to be-in so rustic a neighbourhood a da ;:: v";f •"? "t f ^'^^ -o-mg-was beyoi;:^^':; f.tncj . A famt sound of singing became audible, and grad- ua ly swellecl as I drew near, until at last I cmild mala, out he words which were singularly appropriate bo ho the hour and to the condition of the singers «' The cock may craw, the day may daw," they sang and sang i such a.ity both in time and tune, and such sentimental complaisance ni the expression, as assured me they had o far into LI.e third bottle at least. ^ ^ caHecrdoiblf "\r'''''-''""«' ^^ '^'' ^^^>'^'^«' ^^ the sort called double, with a signboard over the door • and the hght^within streaming forth and somewhat mitigjl^ the THE SABBATH DAT 283 wanston ; ler ques- •• lie was tine was li tale in It of the liarbour- I might t to the t, about 'liat else , and at )ncl my iJ grad- J make both to lie cock it with mental lud got he sort id, the ing the I! darkness of the morning, I was enabled to decipher the in- scription : " The Hunters' Tryst, by Alexander Hendry. Porter, Ales, and British Spirits. Beds." My first knock put a period to the music, and a voice challenged tipsily from within. " Who goes there ?" it said ; and I replied, '' A lawful traveller." Immediately after, the door was unbarred by a couipany of the tallest lads my eyes had ever rested on, all astonish- ingly drunk and very decently dressed, and one (who was perhaps the drunkest of tlie lot) carrying a tallow candle, from which he impartially bedewed the clothes of the whole company. As soon as I saw them I could not help smiling to myself to remember the anxiety with which I had approached. They received me and my hastily-con- cocted story, that I had been walking from Peebles and had lost my way, with incoherent benignity ; jostled me among them into the room where they had been sitting, a plain hedge-row alehouse parlour, with a roaring fire in the chimney and a prodigious number of empty bottles on the floor ; and informed me that I was made, by this re- ception, a temporary member of the Six-Feet-High Club, an athletic society of young men in a good station, who made of the Hunters' Tryst a frequent resort. They told me I had intruded on an " all-night sitting," following upon an ^'all-day Saturday tramp" of forty miles; and that the members would all be up and " as right as ninepence " for the noonday service at some neighbouring church— Col- lingwood, if memory serves me right. At this I could have laughed, but the moment seemed ill chosen. For, though six feet was their standard, they all exceeded that measurement considerably ; and T tasted again some of the sensations of childhood, as I looked up to all these lads from a lower plane, and wondered what they would do 284 ST. IVES iii il! next. But the Six-Footcrs, if thoy were very cl,.,„>l< b3 ...itui, 1 gift or acquired habit, tliey eould suHer nandc- Z'Zl'TfT "''"'"""""' >■«' "^ ™'^«"^' of th,l ™ "" '"""'""'•■^' only ".at the som.d of the.r monng rose and fell ceaselessly, like the dro„e o a bagp,,,e. Here the Six-Footors invaded them_i„ their e.tadel,sotospeak; counted the hunks and the s epts proposed to put me in bed to one of the lasses, pr„p3 o h», oue of the lasses out to make room for me. feU ov cla, s ,,ud made noise enough to waken the dead • the whole dlnm.nated by the same young torch-bea or but now w,th two candles, and rapidly beginning toToi: like a man m a snowstorm. At last a bed was fo™d for me my clothes wero hung out to dry before the parlou fl"e and I was mercifully left to my repose ' I awoke about nine with the sun shining in my eves The land ord came at my summons, brought me my cloM es dned and decently brushed, and gave me the g„« new hat the S.x-Feet-High Club were all abed and sfeen „g off f"r'breakft/r™ '^ """"" "'"S"''''^" Pateh waiting to. breakfast) I came on a barn door, and, looking in saw all the red faces mixed in the straw like ^lums in ^ cake Quoth the stalwart maid who brought me my porridge a„d bade me "eat them while they were hot," " Av, thev ww theT'l LT"'"".,"""™"*-' "™'-' "'W-reflnelaran, they 11 be nane the waur of it. Forby Parbes's eojt • I dmrra see wha's to get the ereish off ihat ! "he added be rer^r" V',', "'™"' '""""^^'"^ ^"^''^ - '"« 'orct Dearer, I mentally joined. It was a brave morning when T took the road : the sun ehone, spring seemed in the air, it smelt like April or May! I THE SABBATH DAY 285 and some over-venturous birds sang in tlie coppices us I went by. I hud plenty to think of, plenty to be gruteful for, thut gullunt morning ; and yet i hud u twitter at my heart. To enter the city by daylight might be compared to marching on a battery ; every face that 1 confronted would threaten me like the muzzle of a gun ; and it cunie into my lieud suddenly with how much better a coun- tenance I should be able to do it if 1 could but improvise u companion. Hard by Merchiston, I was so fortunate as to observe a bulky gentleman in broadcloth and gaiters, stooping with his head almost between his knees before a stone wall. Seizing occasion by the forelock, I drew up as I came alongside and inquired what he had found to interest him. He turned upon me a countenance not much less broad than his back. " Why, sir," he replied, " I was even marvelling at my own indefeasible stupeedity : that I should walk this way every week of my life, weather permitting, and should never before have not t iced that stone," touching it at the same time with a goodly oak staff. I followed the indication. The stone, which had been built sideways into the wall, offered traces of heraldic sculpture. At once there came a wild idea into my mind : his appearance tallied with Flora's description of Mr. Rob- bie ; a knowledge of heraldry would go far to clinch the proof; and what could be more desirable than to scrape an informal acquaintance with the man whom I must approach next day with my tale of the drovers, and whom I yet washed to please ? I stooped in turn. "A chevron," I said; ''on a chief three mullets? Looks like Douglas, does it not ? " " Yes, sir, it does ; you are right," said he : " it does look like Douglas ; though, without the tinctures, and the 286 ST. IVES m '• ! whole thing being so battered and broken up, who shall venture an opinion ? But allow me to be more personal, sir. In these degenerate days I am astonished you siiould display so much proficiency." " 0, I was well grounded in my youth by an old gentle- man, a friend of my family, and I may say my guardian," said I; "but I have forgotten it since. God forbid 'l should delude you into thinking me a herald, sir ! I am only an uugrammatical amateur." "And a little modesty does no harm even in a herald," says my new acquaintance graciously. In short, we fell together on our onward way, and main- tamed very amicable discourse along what remained of the country road, past the suburbs, and on into the streets of the New Town, which was as deserted and silent as a city of the dead. The shops were closed, no vehicle ran, cats sported in the midst of the sunny causeway ; and onr steps and voices re-echoed from the quiet houses. It was the high-water, full and strange, of that weekly trance to M the city of Edinburgh is subjected : the apotheosis of the Scmbath ; and I confess the spectacle wanted not grandeur, however much ifc may have lacked cheerfulness. ihere are few religious ceremonies more imposing. As we thus walked and talked in a public seclusion, the bells, broke out ringing through all the bounds of the city, and the streets began immediately to be thronged with decent church-goers. "Ah !" said my companion, "there are the bells f Now sir, as you are a stranger, I must offer you the hospitality of my pew. I do not know whether you are at all used with- our Scottish form ; but in case you are not, I will find your places for you ; and Dr. Henry Gray, of St. Mary's, (under whom I sit), is as good a preacher as we have^ta show you." THK SA15BATII DAY 287 am This put me in a quaiularj. It was a degree of risk I was scarce prei)ared for. Dozens of people, who might pass me by in tlie street with no more than a second look, would go on from tlie second to the third, and fi-om that to a final recognition, if I were set before them, immobil- ised in a pew, during the whole time of service. An un- lucky turn of the head would suffice to arrest their attention. '• Who is that 'i" they would think : -Surely, I should know him !" and, a church being the place in all the world where one has least to think of, it was ten to one they would end by remembering me before the bene- diction. However, my mind was made up : J thanked my obhgmg fri<3nd, and placed myself at his disposal. Our way now led us into the north-east quarter of the town, among pleasant new faubourgs, to a decent new churcli of a good size, where I was soon seated by the side of my good Samaritan, and looked upon by a whole con- gregation of menacing faces. At first the possibility of danger kept me awake ; but by the time I had assured my- self there was none to be apprehended, and the service was not in the least likely to be enlivened by the arrest of a French spy, I had to resign myself to the task of liateninff to Dr. Henry Gray. As we moved out, after this ordeal was over, my friend was at once surrounded and claimed by his acquaintance of the congregation ; and I was rejoiced to hear )iim ad- dressed by the expected name of Robbie. So soon as we were clear of the crowd—" Mr. Robbie ?" said I, bowing. " The very same, sir," said he. " If I mistake not, a lawyer ? " "A writer to his Majesty's Signet, at your service." " It seems we were predestined to be acquaintances 1 " I exclanned. "I have here a card in my pocket intended 288 ST. IVES for you. It IS from my family lawyer. It was his last word, as I was leaving, to sisk to be remembered kindly iind to trust you would pass over so informal an introduc- tion." And I offered him the card. "Ay, ay, my old friend Daniel ! " says he, looking on the card. '' And how does my old friend Daniel .' " I gave a favourable view of xMr. Komaine's health. Well, tliis is certainly a whimsical incident," he con- tmued. -And since we are thus met already— and so much to my advantage !— the simplest thing will be to prosecute the acquaintance instantly. Let me propose a snack between sermons, a bottle of my particular green seal-and when nobody is looking, we can talk blazons Mr. Dulcie ! "-wliich was the name I then used and had already mcidentally mentioned, in the vain hope of pro- voking a return in kind. *' I beg your pardon, sir : do I understand you to invite me to your house ?" said I. "That was the idea I was trying to convey," said he. ' We have the name of hospitable people up here, and I would like you to try mine." "Mr. Robbie, I shall hope to try it some day, but not yet, I replied. - 1 hope you will not misunderstand me. My business, which brings me to your city, is of a peculiar kind, iill you shall have heard it, and, indeed, till its issue is known, I should feel as if I had stolen your invitation." "^ ''Well, well," said he, a little sobered, "it must be as you wish, though you would hardly speak otherwise if you had committed homicide I Mine is the loss. I must eat alone ; a very pernicious thing for a person of mv habit of body, content myself with a pint of skinking claret, and meditate the discourse. But about this business of yours ; THE SABBATH DAY 289 if it is so parteicnlar as all that, it will doubtless admit of no delay." "I must confess, sir, it presses," I acknowledged. "Then, let us say to-morrow at half-past eight in tho morning," said he ; "and I hope, when your mind is at rest (and it does you much honour to take it as you do), that you will sit down with mo to tlie postponed meal, not forgetting the bottle. You have my address ? " he added, and gave it me— which was the only thing I wanted. At last, at the level of York Place, we parted with mutual civilities, and I was free to pursue my way, through the mobs of people returning from church, to my lodgings in St. James's Square. Almost at tho house door, whom should I overtake ?ut my landlady in a dress of goi-geous severity, and dragging a prize in her wake : no less than Rowley, with the cockade in his hat, and a smart pair of tops to his boots ! When I . said he was in the lady's wake, I spoke but in metaphor. As a matter of fact, he was squiring her, with the utmost dignity, on his arm ; and I followed them up the stairs, smiling to myself. Botli were quick to salute mo as soon as I was perceived, and Mrs. McRankine inquired where I had been. I told her boastfully, giving her the name of the church and the divine, and ignorantly supposing I should have gained caste. But she soon opened my eyes. In the roots of the Scottish character there are knots and contortions that not only no stranger can understand, but no stranger can fol- low ; he walks among explosives ; and his best course is to throw himself upon their mercy— "Just as I am, without one plea," a citation from one of the lady's favourite hymns. Tho sound she made was unmistakable in meaning, though it was impossible to be written down : and I at once executed the manoeuvre I have recommended 19 290 ST. IVES _ "You must remember, I am a perfect stranger in your city," said I. " If I Jiave done wrong, \i was in mere ig- norance, my dear lady ; and this afternoon, if you will be so good as to take me, I shall accompany yon." But she was not to be pacified at the moment, and de- parted to her own quarters murmuring. "AVell, Kowley," said Ij "and have you been to church ?" " If you please, sir," he said. " Well, you have not been any less unlucky than I have," I returned. ''And how did you get on with the Scottish form ?" " Well, sir, it was pretty 'ard, the form was, and reethcr narrow," he replied. - I don't know w'y it is, but it seems to me like as if things were a good bit changed since Will- iam Wallace ! That was a main queer church she took me to, Mr. Anne ! I don't know as I could have sat it out, if slio 'adn't V give me peppermints. She ain't a bad one at bot- tom, the old girl ; she do pounce a bit, and sho do worry, but, law bless you, Mr. Anne, it ain't nothink really— she don't mean it. W'y, she was down on mo like a 'u ml red weight of bricks this morning. You see, last night she 'ad me in to supper, and, I beg your pardon, sir, but I took the freedom of playing her a chune or two. She didn't mind a bit ; so this morning I began to play to myself, and she flounced in, and flew up, and carried on no end about Sunday ! " ''You see, Rowley," said I, ''they're all mad up here, and you have to humour them. See, and don't quarrel with Mrs. McRankine ; and, above all, don't argue with her, or you'll get the worst of it. W^hatever she says, touch your forelock and say, 'If you please !' or 'I beg pardon, ma'am.' And let me tell you one thing : I am sorry, but you have to go to church with her again this afternoon. That's duty, my boy 1 " m TIIK SABBATH DAY 291 As I had foreseen, the bells had scarce begun before Mva. McRunkine presented lierself to be onr escort, ui)on whicli I spnmg up with readiness and offered her my arm. Row- ley followed behind. I was beginning to grow accustomed to the risks of my stay in Edinburgn, and it even amused me to confront a new churchf ul. I confess the amusement did not last until tlio end ; for if Dr. Gray were long, Mr. McCraw was not only longer, but more incoherent, and the matter of his sermon (which was a direct attack, ajjpar- ently, on all the Churches of the world, my own among the number), where it had not the tonic quality of personal insult, rather inclined me to slumber. But I braced my- self for my life, kept up Rowley with the end of a pin, and came through it awake, but no more. Bethiah was quite conquered by this "mark of grace," though, I am afraid, she was also moved by more worldly considerations. The first is, the lady had not the least objection to go to church on the arm of an elegantly dressed young gentleman, and be followed by a spruce servant with a cockade in his hat. I could see it by the way she took possession of us, found us the places in the Bible, whis. pered to me the name of the minister, passed us lozenges, which I (for my part) handed on to Rowley, and at each fresh attention stole a little glance about the church to make sure she was observed. Rowley was a pretty boy ; you will pardon me, if I also remembered that I was a favourable- looking young man. When we grow elderly, how the room brightens, and begins to look as it ought to look, on the entrance of youth, grace, health, and comeliness ! You do not want them for yourself, perhaps not even for your son, but you look on smiling ; and when you recall their images— again, it is with a smile. I defy you to see or think of them and not smile with an infinite and intimate, but quite impersonal, pleasure. Well, either I know nothing 293 ST. IVES of women, or tliat was tlie ci***e with Bethiali McHankine. Mie \uul been to church with a cockade behind Jier, on the one hand ; on the other, lier liouse was briglitcned by the presence of a pair of good-looking young fellows of the other sex, who were always pleased and deferential in hor society and accepted her views as final. These were sentiments to be encouraged ; and, on the way home from church— if church It could be called— I adopted a most insidious device to magnify her interest. I took her into the confidence, that is, of my love affair, and I had no sooner mentioned a young lady with whom my affections were engaged than she turned upon me a face of awful gravity. " Is she bonny ? " she inquired. I gave her full assurances upon that. " To what denoamination does she beloang ? " came next and was so unexpected as alnio .1 to deprive me of breath ' " Upon my word, ma'am, I have never inquired," cried I • "I only know that she is a heartfelt Christian, and that is enough." " Ay! " she sighed, - if she has the root of the maitter ! iheres a remnant practically in most of the denoamina- tions. There's some in the McGlashanites, and some in the Wassites, and mony in the McMillanites, and there's a ieeven even in the Estayblishment." "I have known some very good Papists even, if yon go to that," said I. j s> "Mr. Dulcie, think shame to yoursel' !" she .'ried " Why, my dear mada.^i ! I only " I began. " You shouldnae jest in sairious maitters," she inter- rupted. ^ the whole, she entered into what I chose to tell her of ou. . '• .; wiU, avidity, like a cat licking her whiskers over H. t, -. ..f cream ; and, strange to say-and so expan- i^ IJiinkine. ?r, oil the erl by the ws of the al in her 1, on the called — I terest. I ffair, and 'horn my a face of THE SABBATH DAY 3S8 8lv6 a pa«.,on„ that of love !-tl,„t I ,lerivert a „erlm„s -qnal s„t,rfaol,„n from ,.o„fi,li„g ,•„ t|,„t breast of i'ron ma. a„ „„„,e,l,„te b„,„I : fro,,, ti,„t 1,„„, „., ,,.„„„, ,„ , , wc cle,l ,„t„ „ fa„,ilj. party; a„d I |,a,l litlle ,li„i I , i r ..,«., ng her to join „s a„,l t„ p,.osi,l„ over o„r lea-ta ,1... A ... JIc a„k„,e, a,,,) the Vbeo„„t A„„e ! Ii„t I „,„ i he Apos Ic s way, w.th a .liffercce , all things to all won,! en; When J finnnnf »^l«o^„ . ^ cravat I iTri T ■ "" ''""'«« lo ail worn- \yien I cannot please a woman, hang me in my me next, breath. ' cried I ; d that is maitter ! oamina- le in the here's a L yoii go id. B inter- tell her 'hiskera expan- i!n % ft i CHAPTER XXVIII EVENTS OF MONDAY : THE LAWYErV, PARTY By half-past eight o'clock on the next morning, I was ringing tlic bell of the lawyer's office in Castle Street, where I found him ensconced at a business table, in a room sur- rounded by several tiers of green tin cases. He greeted me like an old friend. " Come aAvay, sir, come away ! " said he. '< Here is the dentist ready for you, and I think I can promise you that the operation will be practically painless." "I am not so sure of that, Mr. Robbie," I replied as I shook hands with him. - But at least there shall be no time lost with me." I had to confess to having gone a-roving with a pair of drovers and their cattle, to having used a false name, to havmg murdered or half-murdered a fellow-creature in a scuffle on the moors, and to having suffered a couple of quite innocent men to lie some time in prison on a charge trom which I could have immediately freed them. All tins I gave him first of -11, to be done witli the worst of it • and all this he took with gravity, but without the least appearance of surprise. "Now, sir," I continued, " I expect to have to pay for my unhappy frolic, but I would like very well if it could be managed without my personal appearunco or even the mention of my real name. I liad so much wisdom as to sail under false colours in this foolish j.-y^nt of mine j my 291 EVENTS OF MONDAY 295 LRTY ing, I was reet, wliere I room sur- ie greeted lere is the ie you that plied, as I liall be no I a pair of name, to iture in a couple of 1 a charge lem. All jrst of it ; the least 3 pay for it could even the om as to line ; my family would be extremely concerned if they had wind of It ; but at the same time, if the case of this Faa has ter- minated fatally, and there are proceedings against Todd und Candhsh, I am not going to stand by and see them vexed, far less punished ; and I autliorise you to give me up for trial if you think that best-or, if you tiiink it un- necessary, m the meanwhile to make preparations for tlieir defence. I hope, sir, that I am as little anxious to be (.Quixotic, as I am determined to be just." "Very fairly spoken," said Mr. Ko"bbio. -It is not much in my line, as doubtless your friend. Mr. liomaim-, will have told you. I rarely mix myself up witli auythin- on the criminal side, or approaching it. However, for a young gentleman like you, I may stretch a point, and I daresay I may be able to accomplisli more than j.erJiaps another. I will go at once to the Procurator Fiscal's office and inquire." "AVait a moment, Mr. Robbie," said I. -You for-ret the chapter of expenses. I had thouglit, for a beginning, ot placing a tiiousand pounds in your hands." "My dear sir, you will kindly wait until I render you mv bill, said Mr. Robbie severely. "It seemed to mo," I protasted, - tliat, coming to you almost as a stranger, and placing in vour liands a piece of business so contrary to your habits, some substantial guar- antee of my good faith " _ " Xot the way that we do business in Scotland, sir " he interrupted, with an air of closing the disi)ute "And yet, Mr. Robbie," I continued, -'I must ask you to allow me to proceed. I do not merely refer to the ex- penses of the case. I have my eye besides on Todd and Camlhsh. They are thoroughly deserving fellows : they have boon subjected through me to a considerable term of imprisonment; and I suggest, sir, that you should not ill!< 296 ST. IVES If if !|: III J IUjI m I. spare money for tlieir iiidemnificiition. This will explain/' I added, smiling, " my offer of the thousand pounds. It Avas in the nature of a measure by which you should judge the scale on which I can afford to have this business carried through.'" "I take you i)crfectly, Mr. Ducie," said he. "But the sooner I am off, the better this affair is like to be guided. My clerk will show you into the waiting-room and give you the day's Caledonian Mercury and the last Register to amuse yourself with in the interval." I believe Mr. Robbie was at least three hours gone. I saw him descend from a cab at the door, and almost im- mediately after I was shown again into his study, where the solemnity of his manner led me to augur the worst. For some time he had the inhumanity to read me a lecture as to the incredible silliness, " not to say immor- ality," of my behaviour. " I have the more satisfaction in telling you my opinion, because it appears that you are going to get off soot free," he continued, where, indeed, I thought he might have begun. "The man, Faa, has been dischairged cui-ed ; and the two men, Todd and Candlish, would have been leeberated long ago, if it had not been for their extraordinary loyalty to yourself, Mr. Ducie — or Mr. St. Ivey, as I believe I should now call you. Never a word would either of the two old fools volunteer that in any manner pointed at the existence of such a person ; and when they Avere confronted with Faa's version of the affair, they gave accounts so entirely discrepant with their own former declarations, as well as with each other, that the Fiscal was quite non- plussed, and imaigined there was something behind it. Vou may believe I soon laughed him out of that ! And I had the satisfaction of seeing your two friends set free, and very glad to be on the causeway again." EVENTS OF MONDAY ill explain/' pounds. It hould judge iness carried " But the be guided. uidgive you Register to rs gone. I almost ini- tudy, where the worst. read me a say immor- tisfaetion in hafc you are ire, indeed, d ; and the I leeberated lary loyalty I believe I :her of the nted at the ! confronted iiccounts so arations, us quite non- behind it. at ! And I is set free, 297 "0, sir," I cried, ''you should have brought them here." *'No instructions, Mr. Ducie ! " said he. "How did I know you wished to renew an acquaintance which you had just terminated so fortunately ? And, indeed, to be frank with you, I should have set my face against it, if you had ! Let them go ! They are paid and contented, and have the liighest possible opinion of Mr. St. Ivey ! When I gave them fifty pounds apiece— which was rather more than enough, Mr. Ducie, whatever you may think—the man Todd, who has the only tongue of the party, struck his staff on the ground. ' Weel,' says he, ' I aye said he was a gentleman ! ' ' Man Todd,' said I, ' that was just what Mr. St. Ivey said of yourself ! ' " " So it was a case of ' Compliments fly when gentlefolk meet.'" " Xo, no, Mr. Ducie, man Todd and man Candlish are gojie out of your life, and a good riddance ! They are fine fellows in their way, but no proper associates for the like of yourself ; and do you finallyagree to be done with all eccentricity— take up with no more drovers, or rovers, or tnikers, but enjoy the naitural pleesures for which your age, your Avcaltii, your intelligence, and (if I may be allowed to say it) your appearance so completely fit you. And the lirsfc of these," quoth he, looking at his watch, " will be to step through to my dining-room and share a bachelor's luncheon." Over the meal, which was good, Mr. Robbie continued to develop the same theme. "You're, no doubt, what they call a dancing-man ? " said he. " Well, on Thursday night there is the Assembly Ball. You must certainly go there, and you must permit me besides to do the honours of the ceety and send you a ticket. I am a thorough believer m a young man being a young man-but no more 'jM. 298 ST. IVES 4 ■! Mi 1! drovers or rovers, if you love me ! Talking of which puts me in mind that you may be short of partners at the Assembly-O, I have been young myself !-and if ye care to come to anything so portentiously tedious as a tea-partv at the house of a baclielor lawyer, consisting mainly of his nieces and nephews, and his grand-nieces and grand- nephews, and his wards, and generally the whole clan of the descendants of his clients, you might drop in to-niaht towards seven o'clock. I think I can show you one or Two that are worth looking at, and you can dance with them later on at the Assembly." He proceeded to give me a sketch of one or two eligible young ludies whom I might expect to meet. " And then there s my parteecular friend. Miss Flora/' said he. - But 1 11 make no attempt of a description. You shall see her for yourself.-" It will be readily supposed that I accepted his invitat.'on • and returned home to make a toilette worthy of her I was to meet and the good news of which I was the bearer. The toile te, I have reason to believe, was a success. Mr. Row- ley dismissed me with a farewell: -Crikey! Mr Anne but you do look prime ! " Even the stony Bethiah was- how shall I say ?-dazzled, but scandalised, by my appear- ance ; and while, of course, she deplored the vanity that led to it, she could not wholly prevent herself from admir- mg the result. '; Ay Mr. Ducie, this is a poor employment for a way- fanng Christian man !" she said. - Wi' Christ despised and rejectit in all pairts of the world, and the flag of the Covenant flung doon, you will be muckle better on your knees However, I'll have to confess that it sets you weel. And It 1 s the lassie ye're gaun to see the nicht, I suppose 1 11 just have to excuse ye ! Bairns maun be bairns ! " slie __•! •!! . , " -'"WWII uv^ wmiia ; said, with a sigh. -I mind when Mr. McRaukine came EVENTS OF MONDAY 299 The conrtin', and that's lang by-gane— I mind I had a green gown, passementit, that was thocht to become me to admi- ration. I was nae Just exactly what ye would ca' bonny ; but I was pale, penetratin', and interestin'." And she leaned over the stair-rail with a candle to watch my descent as long as it should be possible. It was but a little party at Mr. Robbie's— by which, I do not so much mean that there were few people, for the rooms wore crowded, as that there was very little attempted to entertain them. In one apartment there were tables set out, where the elders were solemnly engaged uiion whist ; in the other and larger one, a great number of youth of both sexes entertained themselves languidly, the ladies sitting upon chairs to be courted, the gentlemen standing about in various attitudes of insinuation or indifference. Conversation appeared the sole resource, except in so far as it was modified by a number of keepsakes and annuals which lay dispersed upon the tables, and of which the young beaux displayed the illustrations to the ladies. Mr. Robbie himself was customarily in the card-room ; only now and again, when he cut out, he made an in- cursion among the young folks, and rolled about jovially from one to another, the very picture of the general uncle. It chanced that Flora had met Mr. Robbie in the course of the afternoon. " ^^ow. Miss Flora," he had said, " come early, for 1 have a Phoenix to show you~one Mr. Ducie, a new client of mine that, I vow. I have fallen in love with " ; and he was i,o good as to add a word or two on my appear- ance, from which Flora conceived a suspicion of the truth. She had come to the party, in consequence, on the knife- edge of anticipation and alarm ; had chosen a place by the door, whore I found her, on aiy arrival, surrounded by a posse of vapid youths ; and, when I drew near, sprang 300 ST. IVES np to meet me in the most natural manner in the world and, obviously, with a prepared form of words. '* How do you do, Mr. Dneie ?" she said. "It is quite an age since I have seen you ! " "I have much to tell" you. Miss Gilchrist," I replied "May I sit down ?" ^ For the artful girl, by sitting near tlie door, and the judicious use of her shawl, had contrived to keep a chair empty by her side. She made room for me, as a matter of course, and the youths had the discretion to melt before us. As soon as I was once seated her fan flew out, and she whispered behind ''Are yon mad?" "Madly in love," I replied ; "but in no other sense." '' I have no patience ! You cannot understand what I am suffering ! " she said. " What are you to say to Ron- aid, to Major Chevenix, to my aunt ? " " Your aunt ? " I cried, with a start. " Peccavi! is she here ?" " She is in the card-room at whist," said Flora. "Where she will probably stay all the evening?" I sug- gested. ^ " She may," she admitted ; " she generally does ! " "Well, then, I must avoid the card-room," said I "which is very much what I had counted upon doing I did not come here to play cards, but to contemplate a cer- tain young lady to my heart's content— if it can ever be contented !— and to tell her some good news." "But there are still Ronald and the Major!" she per- sisted. " They are not card-room lixtures ! Ronald will ' be coming and going. And as for Mr. Chevenix, he " " Always sits with Miss Flora ? " I interrupted. "And they talk of poor St. Ives ? I had gathered as much,' my EVENTS OF MONDAY 301 dear; and Mr. Ducie has come to prevent it ! But pray dismiss these fears ! I mind no one hut your aunt." "Why my aunt?" " Because your aunt is a hidy, my dear, and a very clever lady, and, like all clever ladies, a very rasli lady," said I. " You can never count upon them, unless you are sure of getting them in a corner, as I have got you, and talking them over rationally, us I am just engaged" on with yourself ! It would be quite the same to your aunt to make the worst kind of a scandal, witii an equal indiffer- ence to my danger and to the feelings of our good host ! " " Well," she said, "and what of Ronald, tlien? Do you think he is above making a scandal ? You must know him very little ! " " On the other hand, it is my pretension that I know him very well!'' I replied. "I must speak to Ronald first — not Ronald to me— that is all ! " " Then, please, go and speak to him at once ! " she pleaded. " He is there— do you see ?— at the upper end of the room, talking to that girl in pink." " And so lose this seat before I have told you my good news?" I exclaimed. " Catch me ! And, besides, my dear one, think a little of me and my good news ! I thouo-ht the bearer of good news was always welcome ! I hoped he might b9 a little welcome for himself ! Consider ! I have but one friend ; and let me stay by her ! And there is only one thing I care to hear ; and let me hear it ! " '0, Anne," she sighed, "if I did not love you, why should I be so uneasy ? I am turned into a coward, dear ! Think, if it Avere the other way round— if you were quite safe and I was in, such danger ! " She had no sooner said it than I was convicted of being a dullard. " God forgive me, dear ! " I made haste to re- J)ly, " I never saw before that there were two sides to 802 ST. IVES this ! " And I told her my tale as briefly as I could, and rose to seek Ronald. " You see, my dear, you are obeyed," I said. She gave me a look that was a reward in itself ; and as I turned away from her, with a strong sense of turning away from the sun, I carried that look in my bosom like a caress. The gir' in pink was an arch, ogling person, with a good deal of eyes and teeth, and a great play of shoulders and rattle of conversation. There could be no doubt, from Master Konald's attitude, that he worshipped the very chair she sat on. But I was quite ruthless. I laid my hand on his shoulder, as he was stooping over her like a hen over a chicken. "Excuse me for one moment, Mr. Gilchrist ! '' said I. lie started and span about in answer to my touch, and exhibited a face of inarticulate wonder. "Yes ! " I continued, " it is even myself ! Pardon me for interrupting so agreeable a telc-d-llte, but you know, my good fel'ow, we owe a first duty to Mr. Robbie. It would never do to risk making a scene in the man's draw- ing-room ; so the first thing I had to attend to was to have you warned. The name I go by is Ducie, too, in case of accidents." " I— I say, you know ! " cried Ronald. ** Deuce take it, what are you doing here ? " " Hush, hush ! "■ said I. " Not the place, my dear fellow —not the place. Come to my rooms, if you like, to-night after the party, or to-morrow in the morning, and we can talk it out over a cigar. But here, you know, it really won't do at all." Before he could collect his mind for an answer, I had given him my address in St. James's Square, and had again mingled with the crowd. Alas ! I was not fated to get back to Flora so easily I Mr. Robbie was in the path : EVP:NTS of MONDAr 803 he was insatiably loquacious ; and as ho continued to pala- ver I watolied the insipid youtlis gather again about my idol, and cursed my fate and my host. He romeuibered suddenly that I was to attend the Assembly Ball on Thurs- day, and had only attended to-night by way of a prepara- tive. This put it into his bead to present nie to anotber young lady ; but I managed tins interview with so much art that, while I was scrupulously polite and even cordial to the fair one, I contrived to keep Robbie beside me all the time and to leave along with him when the ordeal was over. We were just walking away arm in arm, when I spied my friend the Major approaching, stiff as a ramrod and, as usual, obtrusively clean. " ! there's a man i want to know," said I, taking the bull by the horns. " Won't you introduce me to Ma- jor Chevenix ? " "At a word, my dear fellow," said Robbie ; and " Ma- jor ! " he cried, " come here and let me present to you my friend Mr. Ducie, who desires the honour of your ac- quaintance." The Major flushed visibly, but otherwise preserved his composure. lie bowed very low. "I'm not very sure," he said : " I have an idea we have met before ?" " Informally," I said, returning his bow; "and I bave long looked forward to the pleasure of regularising our ac- quaintance." " You are very good, Mr. Ducie," he returned. " Per- haps you could aid my memory a little ? Where was it that I had the pleasure ? " "0, that would be telling tales out of school," said I, with a laugh, " and before my lawyer, too !" "I'll wager," broke in Mr. Robbie, "that, when you knew my client, Chevenix, the past of our friend Mr. Duci( is an obscure chapter full of horrid secrets. I'll 304 ST. IVES wager now you knew ]mn as St. Ivey/' .ays he, nndging me violently. ^ *' llV^T^r "°*^' ''"'" '""''^ ^''^ '^^''J°'^ ^'^'^ P"ichecl lips. VVell, I wish he may prove all right ! " continued the lawyer, with certainly the worst-inspired jocularitv in the world. "I know nothing by him! lie may be a swell mobsman for me with his aliases. You must put your memory on the rack, Major, and when ye've remembered when and where ye mot him, be sure ye tell me " "I will not fail, sir," said Chcvenix. "Seek to him l" cried Robbie, waving his hand as he departed. The Major, as soon as we were alone, turned upon me nis impassive countenance. " AVell," he said, "you have courage." "It is undoubted as your honour, sir,'' I returned, bowuig. ' " Did you expect to meet me, may I ask ?" said he said T" ''''''' ""^ ^^''^^' ^^'''^ ^ """''^^'^ ^^'^' Pi-esentation," " And you were not afraid ? " said Chevenix. ''I was perfectly at ease. I knew I was dealing with a gentleman. Be that your epitaph." '' Well, there are some other people looking for you " he said -who will make no bones about the point of hon- ''"f; A J't P,°^'f ' "^^ '^^'"' '"■' ^'^ '™P'y ''Sog about you.- And I think that that was coarse," said I. _ "You have seen Miss Gilchrist ?" he inquired, chang- ing the subject. ^ _ " With whom, I am led to understand, we are on a foot- "ig of rivalry ? " I asked. - Yes. I have seen her." " And I was just seeking her," he replied. I was conscious of a certain thrill of temper; so, I sup. Jose, was he. We looked each other up and down. EVENTS OP MONDAY 805 *' The situation is original," he resumed. " Quite," said I. "But let me tell you frankly you are blowing a cold coal. I owe you so much for your kind- ness to the prisoner Champdivers." "lAIeaning that the lady's affections are more advan- tageously disposed of ?" he asked, with a icer. '• Thank you, I am sure. And, since you have given me a lead, just hear a word of good advice in your turn. Is it fair, is it delicate, is it like a gentleman, to compromise the young lady by attentions which (as you know very well) can come to nothing ? " I was utterly unable to tind words in answer. "Excuse me if I cut this interview short," he went on. " It seems to me doomed to come to nothing, and there is more attractive metal." "Yes," I replied, "as you say, it cannot amount to much. You are impotent, bound hand and foot in honour. You know me to be a man falsely accused, and even if you did not know it, from your position as my rival you have only the choice to stand quite still or to be infiimoiis." "I would not say that," he returned, with another change of colour. " I may hear it once too often." With which he moved off straight for where Flora was sitting amidst her court of vapid youths, and I had no choice but to follow him, a bad second, and reading my- self, as I went, a sharp lesson on the command of tem- per. It is a strange thing how young men in their teens go down at the mere wind of the coming of men of twenty- five and upwards ! The vapid ones fled without thought of resistance before the Major and me; a few dallied awhile in the neighbourhood— so to speak, with their fingers in their months— but presently these also followed the rout, and we remained face to face before Flora. There was a 20 me ST. IVES (Imuglit 111 tliat corner by tl,o door ; she had thrown her pehs^oovor her bare urms and neck, and the dark fur of the trimnnng set them off. She shone by contrast ; the light phiyed on lier smootli skin to admiration, and tlio colour clianged in her excited face. For the least fraction of a second she looked from one to the other of her pair of rival swains, and seemed to hesitate. Then she addressed Uneven IX : — "You are coming to the Assembly, of course, Major Chevenix ?" said she. '' " I fear not ; I fear I shall be otherwise engaged," he replied. -Even the pleasure of dancing with you, Miss i'iora, must give way to duty." For awhile the talk ran liarmlessly on the weather, and then branched off towards the war. It seemed to be by no one s fault ; it was in the air, and had to come. - "Good news from the scene of operations," said the Major. "Good news while it lasts," I said. -But will Miss Uilchrist tell us her private thought upon the war ? In her admiration for the victors, does not there mingle some pity for the vanquished ?" "Indeed, sir," she said, with animation, - only too much of It War IS a subject that I do not think should be talked of to a girl. I am, I have to be-what do you call It —a non-combatant ? And to remind me of what others nave to do and suffer : no, it is not fair ! " "Miss Gilchrist has the tender female heart," said Chev- enix. "Do not be too sure of that!" she cried. "I would love to be allowed to fight myself !" "On which side?" I asked. _J^'Can you ask?" she exclaimed. -I am a Scottish EVENTS OF MONDAY 307 "She is a Soottiah girl !" repcuted the Major, Iookiii„' lit me. " And no one griulgerf you her pity ! " " And I glory in every grain of it she has to spare," said I. " Pity is akin to love." "Well, and let us put that question to Miss Gilchrist. It is for her to decide, and for us to bow to the decision. Is pity. Miss Flora, or is admiration, nearest love ?" " 0, come," said I, *• let us be more concrete. Lay be- fore the lady a complete case : describe your man, then I'll describe mine, and Miss Flora shall decide." " I think I see your meaning," said he, " and I'll try. You think that pity — ami the kindred sentiments — have the greatest power upon tlie heart. I think more nobly of women. To my view, the man they love will first of all command their respect ; he will be steadfast— proud, if you please; dry, possibly— but of all things steadfast. They will look at him in doubt ; at last they will see that stern face which he presents to all the rest of the world soften to them alone. First, trust, I say. It is so that a woman loves who is worthy of heroes." "Your man is very ambitious, sir," said I, "and very much of a hero ! Mine is a humbler, and, I would fain think, a more human dog. He is one with no particular trust in himself, with no superior steadfastness to be ad- mired for, who sees a lady's face, who hears her voice, and, without any phrase about the matter, falls in love. \\ hat does he ask for, then, but pity ? — pity for his weakness^ pity for his love, which is his life. You would make women always the inferiors, gaping up at your imaginary lover ; he, like a marble statue, with his nose in the air ! But God has been wiser than you ; and the most steadfast of your heroes may prove human, after all. We appeal to the queen for judgment," I added, turning and bowing before Flora. ■i if mil m m 308 ST. IVES *'And how shall the queen judge?" she asked. «I must give you an answer that is no answer at all. ' The wind bloweth where it listeth ' : she goes where her heart goes." Her face flushed as she said it ; mine also, for I read in It a declaration, and my heart swelled for joy. But Chev- enix grew pale. " You make of life a very dreadful kind of a lottery ma am," said he. - But I will not despair. Honest and unornamental is still my choice." And I must say he looked extremely handsome and very umusmgly like the marble statue with its nose in the air to which I had compared him. " I cannot imagine how we got upon this subject," said -b lora. "Madam, it was through the war," replied Chevenix *' All roads lead to Rome," I commented. " What else would you expect Mr. Chevenix and myself to talk of ?" About this time I was conscious of a certain bustle and niovement in the room behind me, but did not pay to it that degree of attention which perhaps would have been wise. There came a certain change in Flora's face : she signalled repeatedly with her fan ; her eyes appealed to me obsequiously ; there could be no doubt that she wanted something-as well as I could make out, that I should go away and leave the field clear for my rival, which I had not the least idea of doing. At last she rose from her chair with impatience. "I think it time yon were saying good-night, Mr. Ducie!" she said. I could not in the least see why, and said so. Whereupon she gave me this appalling answer <' My aunt IS coming out of the card-room." ' In less time than it takes to tell, I had made my bow EVENTS OF MONDAY isked. « I all. ' The her lieart r I read in But Chev- a lottery, honest and 309 and my escape. Looking back from the doorway, I was privileged to see, for a moment, the august profile and gold eyeglasses of Miss Gilchrist issuing from the card-room ; and the sight lent me wings. I stood not on the order of my going ; and a moment after, I was on the pavement of Castle Street, and the lighted windows shone down on me, and were crossed by ironical shadows of those who had re- mained behind. ;a«! J and very the air to ject," said evenix. iVhat else Ik of ? " ustle and pay to it lave been face ; she led to me 3 wanted should go t had not her chair ^ht, Mr. I r, ''My my bo\r ^■m^ « ; CHAPTER XXIX :i ' EVENTS OF TUESDAY : THE TOILS CLOSING This day begun with a suriirise. I found a letter on my breakfast-table addressed to Edward Ducie, Esquire ; and at first I was startled beyond measure. " Cor science doth make cowards of us all ! " When I had opened it, it proved to be only a note from the lawyer, enclosing a card for the Assembly Ball on Thursday evening. Shortly after, as I was composing my mind with a cigar at one of the windows of the sitting-room, and Rowley, having finished the light share of work that fell to him, sat not far off tootling with great spirit and a marked preference for tlie upper octave, Ronald was suddenly shown in. I got him a cigar, drew in a chair to the side of the fire, and installed him there— I was going to say, at his ease, but no expres- sion could be fartlier from the truth. He was plainly on pins and needles, did not know whether to take or to re- fuse the cigar, and, after he had taken it, did not know whether to light or to return 't. I saw he had something to say ; I did not think it was his own something ; and I was ready to offer a large bet it was really something of Major Chevenix^s. *' Well, and so here you are ! " I observed, with pointless cordiality, for I was bound I should do nothing to help him out. If he were, indeed, here running errands for my rival, he might have a fair field, but certainly no favour. " The fact is," ho began, *•' I would rather see you alone.* 310 EVENTS OP TUESDAY 311 jtter on my quire ; and Mence doth uied it, it sing a card ortly after, one of the ig finished act far off ace for the I got him d installed no expres- plainly on B or to re- not know something ng ; and I lething of 1 pointless ig to help ids for my favour, ou alone.* ''Why, certainly," I replied. "Rowley, you can step into the bedroom. My dear fellow," I continued, "this sounds serious. Nothing wrong, I trust." " Well, I'll be quite honest," said he. " I am a good deal bothered. " And I bet I know why !" I exclaimed. " And I bet I can put you to rights, too ! " " What do you mean ? " he asked. "You must be hard up," said I, "and all I can say is, you've come to the right place. If you have the least use for a hundred pounds, or any such trifling sum as that, please mention it. It's here, quite at your service." "I am sure it is most kind of you," said Ronald, "and tlie truth is, though I can't think liow you guessed it, that I really am a little behind board. But I haven't come to talk about that." " No, I daresay ! " cried I. " Not worth talking about ! But remember, Ronald, you and I are on different sides of tiie busiriess. Remember that you did me one of those services that make men friends for ever. And since I have had the fortune to come into a fair sluire of money, just oblige me, and consider so much of it as your own." " No," he said, " I couldn't take it ; I couldn't, really. Besides, the fact is, I've come on a very different matter. It's about my sister, St. Ives," and he shook his head men- acingly at me. " You're quite sure ? " I persisted. " It's here, at your service— up to five hundred pounds, if you like. Well, all right ; only remember where it is, when you do want it." " 0, please let me alone ! " cried Ronald : " I've come to say something unpleasant ; and how on earth can I do it, if you don't give a fellow a chance ? It's about my sis- ter, as I said. You can see for yourself that it can't be allowed to go on. It's compromising ; it don't lead to % w lil : 1,1 1! I^ 312 ST. IVES anything ; and yon're not the kind of man (yon must feel it yourself) that I can allow my female relaUves to have anything to do with. I hate saying this, St. Ives ; it looks like hitting a man when he's down, you know ; I told the Major 1 very much disliked it from the first. However, it had to be said ; and now it has been, and, between gentle- men, it shouldn't be necessary to refer to it again." " It's compromising ; it doesn't lead to anything ; not the kind of man," I repeated thoughtfully. " Yes, I be- lieve I understand, and shall make haste to put myself en regie." I stood up, and laid ray cigar down. ''Mr. Gil- christ,'' said I, with a bow, " in answer to your very natu- ral observations, J beg to offer myself as a suitor for your sister's hand. I am a man of title, of which we think lightly in France, but of ancient lineage, which is every- where prized. I can display thirty-two quarterings with- out a blot. My expectations are certainly above the aver- age : I believe my uncle's income averages about thirty thousand pounds, though I admit I was not careful to in'- form myself. Put it anywhere between fifteen and fifty thousand ; it is certainly not less." " All this is very easy to say," said Ronald, with a pity- ing smile. " Unfortunately, tiiese things are in the air." "Pardon me,- -in Buckinghamshire," said I, smiling. " Well, what 1 mean is, my dear St. Ives, that you can't prove them," he continued. ''They might just as well not be : do you follow me ? Yon can't bring us any third party to back you up." " 0, come ! " cried I, springing up and hurrying to the table. " You must excuse me ! " I wrote Romaine's ad- dress. " There is my reference, Mr. Gilchrist. Until you have written to him, and received his negative ai ^wer, I have a right to be treated, and I shall see that you treat me, as a geutlen;au." EVENTS OF TUESDAY 313 must feel !S to have ; it looks I told the owever, it m gentle- i." ling ; not Yes, I be- nyself en 'Mr. Gil- 3ry natu- for your we think is every- igs with- the aver- ut thirty ful to in- and fifty h a pity- ;he air." niling. fou can't as well -ny third ig to the ine's ad- Fntil you t 'wer, I ou treat He was brought up with a round turn at that. **I beg your pardon, St. Ives," said he. " Believe me, I had no wish to be offensive. But there's the difficulty of this affair ; I can't make any of my points witliout offence ! You must excuse me, it's not my fault. But, at any rate, you must see for yourself this proposal of mar- riage is — is merely impossible, my dear fellow. It's non- sense ! Our countries are at war ; you are a prisoner." "My ancestor of the time of the Ligue," I replied, *' married a Huguenot lady out of the Saintonge, riding two hundred miles through an enemy's country to bring off his bride ; and it was a happy marriage." " Wei' ! " he began ; and then looked down into the fire, and became silent. " Well ? " I asked. " Well, there's this business of — Goguelat," said he, still looking at the coals in the grate. " What ! " I exclaimed, starting in my chair. " What's that you say ? " " This business about Goguelat," he repeated. *' Ronald," said I, " this is not your doing. These are not your own words. I know where they came from : a coward put them in your mouth." " St. Ives ! " he cried, " why do you make it so hard for me ? and where's the use of insulting otlie people ? The plain English is, thiit I can't hear of any \ oposal of mar- riage from a man under a charge like that. You must see it for yourself, man ! It's the most absurd thing I ever heard of ! And you go on forcing me to argue with you, too ! " '• Because I have had an affair of honour which termi- nated unhappily, you — a young soldier, or next-dooi to it — refuse my offer ? Do I understand you aright ? " said I. "My dear fellow ! " he wailed, " of course you can twist my words, if you like. You sai/ it was an affair of honour. 'n 314 ST. IVES Well, I can't, of course, toll you tliat— I can't I mean, you must see that that's just the point ! Was it ? I don't know." " I have the honour to inform you," said I. '' Well, other people say the reverse, you see ! " " They lie, Ronald, and I will prove it in time." " The short and the long of it iy, that any man who is so unfortunate as to have such things said about him is not the man to be my brother-in-law ! " he cried. " Do you know who will be my first witness at the court ? Arthur Chevenix ! " said I. " I don't care !" he cried, rising from his chair and be- ginning to pace outrageously about the room. " What do you mean, St. Ives ? What is this about ? It's like a dream, I declare ! You made an offer, and I have refused it. I don't like it, I don't want it ; and whatever I did, or didn't, wouldn't matter— my aunt wouldn't hear of it anyway ! Can't you take your answer, man ? " " You must remember, Ronald, that we are playing with edged tools," said I. " An offer of marriage is a deli- cate subject to handle. You have refused, and you have justified your refusal by several statements. First, that I was an impostor ; second, that our countries were at war ; and third No, I will speak," said I ; "you can an- swer when I have done,— and third, that I had dishonoura- bly killed — or was said to have done so — the man Gogue- lat. Now, my dear fellow, these are very awkward grounds to be taking. From any one else's Hps I need scarce tell you how I should resent them ; but my hands are tied. I have so much gratitude to you, without talking of the love I bear your sister, that you insult me, when you do so, under the cover of a complete impunity. I must feel the pain— and I do feel it acutely— I can do nothing to protect myself." EVENTS OF TUESDAY 315 the He had been anxions enough to interrupt me in the be- ginning ; but now, and after I had ceased, he stood a long while silent. "St. Ives," ho said at last, "I think I had better go away. This has been very irritating. I never at all meant to say anything of the kind, and I apologise to you. I have all the esteem for you that one gentleman slioiild have for another. I only meant to tell you-to show you what had influenced my mind ; and that, in short, the thing was im- possible. One thing you may be quite sure of : / shall do nothing against you. Will you shake hands before I go away ? " he blurted out. _ "Yes," said I, "I agree with you— the interview has been irritating. Let bygones be bygones. Good-bye, Ronald." "Good-bye, St. Ives!" he returned. " Fm heartily sorry. " "^ And with that he was gone. The windows of my own sitting-room looked towards the north ; but the entrance passage drew its light from the direction of the square. Hence I was able to observe Ron- aid s departure, his very disheartened gait, and the fact that he jas joined, about half-way, by no less a man than Major Chevenix. At this, I could scarce keep from smil- ing ; so unpiilatable an interview must be before the pair of them, and I could hear their voices, clashing like crossed swords, m that eternal antiphony of "I told you," and "I told you not." AVithout doubt, they had gained very little by their visit ; but then I had gained less than nothing, and had been bitterly dispirited into the bargain. Ronald liad stuck to his guns and refused me to the last. It was no news ; but, on the other hand, it could not be contorted into good news. I was now certain that during my tempo- rary absence in France, all irons would be put into the fire and the world turned upside down, to make Flora disown m .-%■ - - I . '' ' I' I I 316 ST. IVES the obtrusive Frenchman and accept Chevenix. Without doubt she would resist these instances ; but the tliought of tliem did not please me, and I felt she should be warned and prepared for the battle. It was no use to try to see her now, but I promised myself early that evening to return to Swaiiston. In the meantime I had to make all my preparations, and look tlie coming journey in the face. Here in Edinburgh I was within four miles of tlie sea, yet the business of approach- ing random fishermen with my hat in the one hand and a knife in the other, appeared so desperate, that I saw noth- ing for it but to retrace my steps over the northern coun- ties, and knock a second time at the doors of Birchell Fenn. To do this, money would be necessary ; and after leaving my paper in the hands of Flora I had still a bal- ance of about fifteen hundred pounds. Or -ather I may say I had them and I had them not ; for after my lunch- eon with Mr. Robbie I had placed the amount, all but thirty pounds of change, in a bank in George Street, on a deposit receipt in the name of Mr. Rowley. This I had designed to be my gift to him, in case I must suddenly depart. But now, thinking better of the arrangement I despatched my little man, cockade and all, to lift the fif- teen hundred. He was not long gone, and returned with a flushed face and the deposit receipt still in his hand. " No go, Mr. Hann," says he. "Ho^v's that?" I inquired. " Well, sir, I found the place all right, and no mis- take said he. -But I tell you wot gave me a blue fright I There was a customer standing by the door, and I reckonised him ! Who do you think it was, Mr. Anne : Wy, that same Red-Breast-him I had breakfast with near Aylesbury." EVENTS OF TUESDAY 317 " You are sure yon are not mistaken r " I asked -Certain sure," he replied. - Not Mr. Lavender I don t mean, sir ; I mean the otlier party. ' Wot's he doin' liere ? says I. ' It don't look right.' " " Not by any means," I agreed. I walked to and fro in the apartment reflecting This particular Bow Street runner might be here by accident : but It was to imagine a singular play of coincidence that he who had met Rowley and spoken with him in the Green Dragon," hard by Aylesbury, should be now in Scotland where he could have no legitimate business, and by the doors of the bank where Rowley kept his ac- cou n t. " Rowley," said I, - he didn't see you, did he ^ " " Never a fear," quoth Rowley. - W'y, Mr. Anne, sir, Jf he ad you wouldn't have seen me any more ! I ain't a iiass, sir ! " " Well, my boy, you can put that receipt in your pock- et. You 11 have no more use for it till you're quite clear of me Don't lose it, though ; it's your share of the t hnstmas-box : fifteen hundred pounds all for vour- self," . "^ " Begging your pardon, Mr. Anne, sir, but wot for ^" said Rowley. " To set up a public-house upon," said I. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I ain't got any call to set up a public-house, sir," he replied stoutlv. '' And 1 tell you wot, sir, it seems to me I'm reether "young for the billet I m your body servant, Mr. Anne, or else I'm nothink " "Well, Rowley," I said, - I'll tell you what it's for. It 8 for the good service you have done me, of which I don t care-and don't dare-to speak. It's for vonr InvaUv and cheerfulness, my dear boy. I had meant it for you"; but to tell you the truth, it's past mending now-it has li 318 ST. IVES to be yours. Since that man is waiting by the banl-, the money can't be touched until I'm gone." " Until you're gone, sir ? " re-echoed Rowley. '' You don't go anywheres without me, I can tell you that, Mr. Anne, sir ! " " Yes, my boy," said I, " we are going to part very soon now ; probably to-morrow. And i'.'s for my sake, Rowley ! Depend upon it, if there was any reason at al! for that Bow Street man being at the bank, he was not there to look out for you. How they could have found out about the account so early is more than I can fathom ; some strange coincidence must have played me false ! But there the fact is ; and, Rowley, I'll not only have to say farewell to you presently, I'll Imve to ask you to stay in- doors until I can say it. Remember, my boy, it's only so that you can serve me now." " W'y, sir, you say the word, and of course I'll do it ' " he cried. " ' Nothink by 'alves,' is my motto ! I'm your man, through thick and thin, live or die, I am ! " In the meantime there was nothing to be done till towards sunset. My only chance now was to come again as quickly as possible to speech of Flora, who was my only practicable banker; and not before evening was it worth while to think of that. I might compose myself as well as I was able over the Caledonian Mercury, with its ill news of the cam- paign of France and belated documents about the retreat from Russia ; and, as I sat there by the fire, I was some- times all awake with anger and mortification at what I was reft-ding, and sometimes again I would be three parts asleep as I dozed over the barren items of home intelligence. " Lately arrived "-this is what I suddenly stumbled on— "at Dumbreck's Hotel, the Viscount of Saint- Yves." (( Rowley," said I. EVENTS OF TUESDAY 319 "If you please, Mr. Anne, sir/' answered the obsequi- ous, lowering his pipe. ^ - Come and look at this, my boy," said I, holding out the paper. b "ut ;; My crikey ! " said he. - That's 'im, sir, sure enough ! " Sure enough, Rowley," said I. -lie's on the trail. He has fairly caught up with us. He and this Bow Street ma) have come together, I would swear. And now here IS he whole field, quarry, hounds and hunters, all to- gether in this city of Edinburgh." "And wot .ire you goin' to do now, sir ? Tell yon wot, let me take it in 'and, please ! Gimme a minute, and I'll disguise myself, and go out to this Dum-to this hotel leastways, sir-and see wot he's up to. You put your trust m me, Mr. Anne: I'm fly, don't you make no mi. ake about it. I'm all a-growing and a-blowing, I am. ^' " J^ot one foot of you," said I. - Yon are a prisoner, Kowley, and make up your mind to that. So am I, or next door to It. I sliowed it you for a caution ; if you go on the streets, it spells death to me, Kowley." " If you please, sir," says Rowley. " Come to think of it," I continued, - you must take a cold or something. No good of awakening Mrs. McRan- kine's suspicions." -A cold ?" he cried, recovering immediately from his depression. " I can do it, Mr. Anne." And he proceeded to sneeze and cough and blow his nose, till I could not restrain myself from smiling. " 0, I tell you, I know a lot of them dodges," he ob- served proudly. ^ " Well, they come in very handy," said I. T ^l^'u ^^\^^l ^"^ ^* '^'"''^ ^""^ '^°^ '^ to <^he old gal, 'adn't If he asked. B30 ST. IVES I told liim, by all mciins ; and he was gone upon the in- stant, gleeful as thougji to a game of football. I took up the paper and read carelessly on, my thoughts engaged with my immediate danger, till I struck on the next paragraph : — "In connection with the recen^ horrid murder in the Castle, we are desired to make public the following intelli- gence. The soldier, Chainpdivers, is supposed to be in the neighbourhood of this city, lie is about the middle height or rather under, of a pleasing; appearance and highly genteel address. When last heard of he wore a fashion- able suit of pearl-grey, and boots with fawn-coloured tops. He is accompanied by a servant aLout sixteen years of age, speaks English without any accent, and passed under the alias of Ramornie. A reward is offered for his appre- hension." In a moment I Avas in the next room, stripping from mo the pearl-coloured suit ! I confess I was now a good deal agitated. It is difficult to watch the toils closing slowly and surely about you, and to retain your composure ; and I was glad that Rowley was not present to spy on /ny confusion. I was flushed, my breath came thick ; I cannot remember a time when I was more put out. And yet I must wait and do Jiothing, and partake of my meals, and entertain the ever-garrulous Rowley, as though I were entirely my own man. And if I did not require to entertain Mrs. McRankine also, that was but another drop Oi bitterness in my cup ! For what ailed my landlady, that 3he should hold herself so severely aloof, that she should refuse conversation, that her eyes should be red- dened, that I should so continually hear the voice of her private supplications sounding through the house ? I was much deceived. ir she had read the insidious paragraph EVENTS OF TUESDAY 821 and recognised the comminated pearl-grey suit. I re- membered now a certain air \\itli which she had laid the paper on my table, and a certain sniff. Ix'tween sympathy and defiance, with which she had announced it : " There's your Jfercii>->f for ye ! " In this direction, at least, T saw no pressing danger ; her tragic countenance betokened agitation ; it was plain she was wrestling with her conscience, and the battle still hung dubious. The question of what to do troubled me extremely. I could not venture to touch such an intricate and mysterious piece of nuichinery as my landlady's spirit- ual nature ; it might go off at a word, and in any direction, like a badly-made firework. And while I i)raised myself extremely for my wisdom in the past, that I had made so much a friend of her, I was all ab/'>ad as to my conduct in the present. Tiiere seemeu .ui equal danger in i)ressing and in neglecting tli. .ciistoiued marks of familiarity. The one extreme looked like impudence, and might an- noy ; the other was a practical confession of guilt. Alto- gether, it was a goc.l hour for me when the dusk began to fall in earnest on the streets of Edinburgh, and the voice of an early wntchman bade me set forth. I reached the neighbourhood of the cottage before seven ; and as I breasted the steep ascent which leads to the gar- den wall, I was struck with surprise to hear a dog. Dogs I had heard before, but only from the hamlet on the hill- side above. IS'ow, this dog was in the garden itself, M'here it roared aloud in paroxysms of fury, and I could hear it leaping and straining on the chain. I waited some while, until the brute's fit of passion had roared itself out. Then, with the utmost precaution, I drew near again, and finally approached the garden wall. So soon as I had clapped my head above the level, however, the barking broke forth again with redoubled energy. Almost at the same time^, 21 m *^p«nmnBVMMH 322 ST. IVKS the door of the cottage opened, iind Eonald and the Major appeared upon the threshold with a lantern. As they so stood, they were almost immediately below me, strongly illuminated, and within easy earshot. The Major paci- fied the dog, who took instead to low, uneasy growling in- termingled witli occasional yelps. '' Good thing I brought Towzer ! " said Chevenix. ''Damn him, I wonder where he is !" said Ronald ; and he moved the lantern up and down, and turned the night into a shifting puzzle-work of gleam and shadow. "I think I'll make a sally." " I don't think you will," replied Chevenix. " When I agreed to come out here and do sentry-go, it was on one condition. Master Ronald : don't you forget that ! Mili- tary discipline, my boy ! Our beat is this path close about the house. Down, Towzer ! good boy, good boy-gently, then ! he went on, caressing his confounded monster. " To think ! The beggar may be hearing us this min- ute ! " cried Ronald. "Nothing more probable," said the Major. "You there, St. Ives ?" he added, in a distinct but guarded voice. - 1 only want to tell you, you had better go home. Mr. Gilchrist and I take watch and watch." The game was up. '' Beaucouji de plaisir ! " I replied in the same tones. "II fait un jpeu froid pour veiller] yardez-vous des engelnres ! " I suppose it was done in a moment of ungovernable rage ; but in spite of the excellent advice he had given to Ronald the moment before, Chevenix slipped the chain, and the dog sprang, straight as an arrow, up the bank. I stepped back, picked up a stone of about twelve pounds weight, and stood ready. With a bound the beast landed on the cope-stone of the wall ; and, almost in the same in- stant, my missile caught him fair in the face. He gave a EVENTS OF TUESDAY 823 stifled cry, went tumbling back where he had come from, and I could hear tlie twelve-pounder accompany him in his fall. Chevenix, at the same moment, broke out in a roar- ing voice : " The hell-hound ! If he's killed my dog ! " and I judged, upon all grounds, it was as well to be off. I! f'iiifl 1 ' 11. I CHAPTER XXX EVENTS OF WEDNESDAY ; THE UNIVERSITY OF CRAMOND I AWOKE to mucli diffidence, even to a feeling that might be called the beginnings of panic, and lav for hours in my bed considering the siiuation. Seek wliere I pleased there was nothing to encourage me and plenty to appal' 1 hey kept a close watch about the cottage; they had a beast of a watcli-dog-at least, unless I had settled it; and If I had, I knew its bereaved master would only watch the more indefatigably for the loss. In the pardonable osten- tation of love I had given all the monev I could spare to J^lora; I had thought it glorious that the hunted exile should come down, like Jupiter, in a shower of gold, and pour thousands in the lap of the beloved. Theia had in un hour of arrant folly buried what remained to me in a bank m George Street. And now I must get back the one or the other ; and which ? and how ? As I tossed in my bed, I could see three possible courses all extremely perilous. First, Rowley might have bee/i mistaken ; the bank might not be watched ; it might still be possible for him to draw the money on the deposit re- ceipt. Second, I might apply again to Robbie. Or, third 1 might dare everything, go to the Assembly Ball, and speak with Flora under the eyes of all Edinbur-h This last alternative, involving as it did the most horrid risks, and the delay of forty-eight hours, I did but glance at with an averted head, and turned again to the consideration of 824 EVENTS OF WEDNESDAY 325 the others. It was the likeliest thing in the world that Eobbie had been warned to have no more to do with me. The whole policy of the Gilchrists was in the hands of Chevenix ; and I thought this was a precaution so elemen- tary that he was certain to have taken it. If he had not, of course I was all right : Kobbie would manage to communi- cate with Flora; and by four o'clock I might be on the south road and, I was going to say, a free man. Lastly, I must assure myself with my own eyes whether the bank 'in George Street were beleaguered. I called to Ro\, ley and questioned him tightly as to the appearance e Bow Street officer. " What ,; of looking man is he, Eowley ? " I asked, as I began to dress. "Wot sort of a looking man he is Y" repeated Rowley. " Well, I don't very well know wot you would say, Mr. Anne. He ain't a beauty, any'ow." " Is he tall ? " " Tall ? Well, no, I shouldn't say Ml, Mr. Anne." " Well, then, is he short ? " ''Short ? No, I don't think I would say he was what you would call short. No, not i)iticular short, sir." "Then, I suppose, he must be about the middle height ?" " Well, you might say it, sir ; but not remarkable so." I smothered an oath. " Is he clean-shaved ?" I tried him again. "Clean-shaved?" he repeated, with the same air of anxious candour. " Good heaven, man, don't repeat mv words like a par- rot I " I cried. " Tell me what the man was like : it is of the first importance that I should be able to recof^nise him." ° " Vm trying to, Mr. Anne. But clean shaved? I don't 826 ST. IVES \4 i M I'm Is' ■I if- - 1,11 seem to rightly get hold of that p'int. Sometimes it might appear to me like as if he was ; and sometimes like as if he wasn t. No, it wouldn't surprise me now if you was to tell me he 'ad a bit o' whisker.'' "Was the man red-faced ?" I roared, dwelling on each syllable. "I don't think you need go for to get cross about it, Mr. Anne said he. " I'm tollin' you every blessed thmg I see ! Red-faced ? Well, no, not as you would re- mark upon." A dreadful calm fell upon me. " Was he anywise pale ? " I asked. " Well, it don't seem to me as though he were. But I tell you truly, I didn't take much heed to that." " Did he look like a drinking man ? " "Well, no. If you please, sir, he looked more like an eatmg one. " 0, he was stout, was he ? " "No, sir. I couldn't go so far as that. No, he wasn't not to say sioui. If anything, lean rather." I need not go on with the infuriating interview. It ended as It began, except that Rowley was in tears, and that I had acquired one fact. The man was drawn for me as being of any height you like to mention, and of any de- gree of corpulence or leanness ; clean shaved or not, as the ease might be; the colour of his hair Rowley -could not take It upon himself to put a name on" ; that of his eyes he thought to have been blue-nay, it was the one point on which he attained to a kind of tearful certainty. " I'll take my davy on it," he asseverated. They proved to have been as black as sloes, very little and very near together, bo much for the evidence of the artless ! And the fact, or rather the facts, acquired ? Well, they had to do not with the person but with his clothing. The man wore knee- Biit I an EVENTS OF WEDNESDAY 327 breeches and white stockings ; his coat wa. "some kind of a lightish colour-or betwixt that and dark " ; and he woroa .-moleskin weskit." As if this were not enough he presently haled me from my breakfast in a prodS; fl tter, and showed me an honest and rather venefab citizen passing in the square. ''That's him sir," he cried, "the very moral of him ! Well tins one is bettor dressed, and pYaps a trifle taller nd m the aoc he don't favour iiim noways atall, ir No' it X' ™"''' '"" ^^"'"' "'■""■' -^""'»'''™" "Jackass ! " said I, and I think the greatest stickler for manners will admit the epithet to havclen Justified Meanwhile the appearance of my landlady added a great oad of anxiety to what I already suffered: It was pla liat she had not slept ; equally plain that she had wep c piously She sighed, she groaned, she drew in ll brea h, she shook ker head, as she waited on table In short, she seemed in so precarious a state, like a petard t ree fines charged with hysteria, that I did not dare to- address her ; and stole out of the house on tiptoe ai cl actually ran downstairs, in the fear tliat she might call ne ittlong ™^""" *'"'«"' degree of tension°could,ro: It was my first care to go to George Street whi. ■ I sTlt' V '"'^ "' " ""^ "^ takiig drn\,;t;,k shutteis. A man was conversing with him ; he had white ^t ckmgs and a moleskin >vaistc„at, and wa; as ill-look I'g a rogue as you would want to see in a day's journev This seemed to agree fairly well with Rowley's .i„.,.« „,; ' tlw I'f .?)''"'"°--'"y (if you rc:„c„,ber), and had r,vari;: '^. "■" '"^ -^-^ -^ '^^ «-' ^-v^^ Thence I made my way to Mr. Robbie's, where I i....<. ■ 'm 'mj 328 ST. IVES the bell. A servant answered the summons, and told me the lawyer was engaged, as I had half expected. "Wha shall I say was callin' ?" she pursued ; and when I had told her " Mr. Ducie," " I think this'll be for you, then ? " she added, and handed me a letter from the hall table. It ran : " Dear Mr. Ducie, "My single advice to you is to leave quam prih.um for the South. "Yours, T. Robbie." That was short and sweet. It emphatically extinguished hope in one direction. No more" was to be gotten of Robbie ; and I wondered, from my heart, how much had been told him. Not too much, I hoped, for I liked the lawyer who had thus deserted me, and I placed a certain reliance in the discretion of Chevenix. He would not be merciful ; on the other hand, I did not think he would be cruel without cause. It was my next affair to go back along George Street, and assure myself whether the man in the moleskin vest was still on guard. There was no sign of him on the pavement. Spying the door of a common stair nearly op- posite the bank, I took it in my head that this would be a good point of observation, crossed tlie street, entered with a businesslike air, and fell immediately against the man in the moleskin vest. I stopped and apologised to him ; he replied in an unmistakable English accent, thus putting the matter almost beyond doubt. After this encounter I must, of course, ascend to the top story, ring tlie bell of a suite of apartments, inquire for i\Ir. Vavasour, learn (with no great surprise) that he did not live there, come down again and, again politely saluting the man from Bow Street, make my escape at last into the street. I was now driven back upon the Assembly Ball. Robbie EVENTS OF WEDNESDAY 829 had failed me. The bank was watched ; it would nevor do to risk Rowley in that neighbourhood. All I could do was to wait until the morrow evening, and present myself at the Assembly, let it end as it might. But I must say 1 came to this decision with a good deal of genuine fright • and here I came for tlio first time to one of those places whei-e my courage stuck. I do not mean that mv courage boggled and made a bit of a bother over it, as it did ovtr the escape from the Castle ; I mean, stuck, like a stoi)ped watch or a dead man. Certainly I would go to tlie ball • certainly I must see this morning about my clothes That was all decided. But the most of the shops were on the other side of the valley, in the Old Town ; and it was now my strange discovery that I was physically unable to cross tlie North Bridge ! It was as though a precipice had stood between us or the deep sea had intervened. Nearer to tlie i^astle my legs refused to bear me. I told myself this was mere superstition ; I made wao-ers with myself-and gained them ; I went down on the* es- planade of Princes Street, walked and stood there, alone and conspicuous, looking across the garden at tlie old grey bastions of the fortress, where all these troubles had be- gun. I cocked my hat, set my hand on my hip, and swa- gered on the pavement, confronting detection. And^'l found I could do all this with a sense of exhilaration that was not unpleasing, and with a certain cranerie of manner that raised me in my own esteem. And yet there was one thing I could not bring my mind to face up to, or my hmbs to execute ; and that was to cross the valley into the Old iown. It seemed to me I must be arrested immedi- ately It I had done so ; I must go straight into the twi- light of a prison cell, and pass straight thence to tl.P gross and final embraces of the nightcap and the hal- ter. And yet it was from no reasoned fear of the con- i N i i, I 3 ,:,.ii 330 ST. IVES I was unable. My hoise lit € ' i sequences that I could not go. baulked, and there was an end ! My nerve was gojie : here was a discovery for a man in such imminent peril, set down to so desperate a game, which I could only hope to win by continual hick and un- flagging effrontery ! The strain had been too long con- tinued, and my nerve was gone. I fell into what they call panic fear, as I have seen soldiers do on the alarm of a night attack, and turned out of Princes Street at random as though the devil were at my heels. In St. Andrew's Square, I remember vaguely hearing some one call out. I paid no heed, but pressed on blindly. A moment after, a hand fell heavily on my shoulder, and I thought I had fainted. Certaiidy the world went black about me for some seconds ; and when that spasm passed I found myself standing face to face with the "cheerful extravagant," in what sort of disarray I really dare not imagine, dead white at least, shaking like an aspen, and mowing at the man with speechless lips. And this was the soldier of Napoleon, and the gentleman who intended going next night to an Assembly Ball ! I am the more particular in telling of my breakdown, because it was my only experience of the sort ; and it is a good tale for officers. I will allow no man to call me coward ; I have made my proofs ; few men more. And yet I (come of the best blood in France and inured to danger from a child) did, for some ten or twenty minutes, make this hideous exhibition of myself on the streets of the New Town of Edinburgh. With my first available breath I begged his pardon. I was of an extremely nerviis disposition, recently increased by late hours ; I could noc bear the slightest start. He seemed much concerned. " You must be in a devil of a state ! " said he ; " though of course it was my fault —damnably silly, vulgar sort of thing to do ! A thousand EVENTS OP WEDNESDAY 331 apologies ! Bat you really must be ruu clown ; you should consult a medico. My dear sir, a hair of the c o^ h't b t you ,s clearly indicated. A touch of Blue R^ln now ' Or, come: it's early, but is man the slave of hours v wlTai do you say to a chop and a bottle in Dumbrock's Hotel '■' " I refused all false comfort ; but >vhen he wont on to ro- -nd me that this was the day when the University of Cranioud met; and to propose a five-mile walk into the hnn^^elf, I began to think otherwise. I had to wait until to-morrow evening, at any rate ; this might serve as well a^^any thing else to bridge the dreary hours. The county sedative for the nerves. Kemembering poor Kowley, feign- n g a cold in our lodgings and immediately under tlie gfn.s of the ormidable and now doubtful Bethiah, I asked if I Texplai^ef ""^ ''''''"^* " ^'''' "^'"'^ ' '^ '' ^^"^^ ^"' ^'""''^ «.r!iJ r "^''/!^"\«^'"^ '' "merciful to his ass," observed my sententious friend. - Bring him by all means ! ^ ' The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy ; ■ and I have no doubt the orphan boy can get some cold victuals in the kitchen, while the Senatus dhies " Accordingly, being now quite recovered from my un- manly condition, except that nothing could yet induce me °slZ"in Lef rt ^^'^? ' ™"^^^ ''' - ball diSs a a shop in Leith Street, where I was not served ill, cut out Rowley from his seclusion, and was ready along ;ith him at the trysting-place, the corner of Duke'street^ald York entdinV ''"i ''*" *"" ^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^ -« -pt .ented ni force : eleven persons, including ourselves, Byfieid the aeronaut, and the tall lad, Forbes, whom I had met on !%■. m] '■m 333 ST. IVES he Sunday morn,„s, bedowed with tallow, at the •• H»n. ta . Heat." I wa, .ntroducod ; ami wo sH oft by way of Nowhaven and tl.o soa beach ; at first tI,r„„gl/,,San country road,, and afterwards along a succes J, J^Z u airyhke prettlness, to o„r destinal.V.n-Cran.ond o K Ahnond-ahttlo hamlet on a litUo river, ond.over 1 , wood.,, a.Hl ooking forth over a great flat of ,,„iek J,nd o »■ --0 a l.ttle islet stood planted in the sea. wn,! mtnre .eenery, but eharnnng of its kind. The a™f „ good Lebrnary afternoon was braeing, b„t not eold A the way my comjianions were skylarking, icstin.^ „„ l n..ak„,g puns and I felt a, if a loadl.d bee , 1 e^j/my ^yfleld I observed, beeanse I had heard of him before and seen h,s advertisements, not at all because I wafd ' posed to fee mterest in the man. He was dark and lio »nd very s, lent ; frigid in his manners, but burning in ternally w.th a great fire of excitement; and he waVso good as to bestow a good deal of his compmy and conver sat,on (snoh as it was) upon myself, who was not in tto least grateful. If I had known how I was to be connee d Tot X'" '"' '"""'''-'' '"""'■ ' ""'«'" "- "» In the hamlet of Cramond there is a hostelry of no verv prom,smg appearance, and here a room had been prepared for us, and we sat down to table Pr-paied tarti?or^°",T-" I"**, "" ^""""S <"• g<'™andising, no turtle or mght.ngales' tongues," said the extravagant whose name, by the way, was Dalmuhoy. " The dS' High ktki^g.r^''^ °' '---' ■■' «»■■" ^«« ' Grace was said by the Professor of Divinity, in a maoa iiear it ihjmud, and I^guessed it to be more witty thai^ w.i EVENTS OP WRDNESDAY 333 reverent. After which the .Se,mlm Aeademicm ,at down to rough plenty in the sl,..,,„ „f ri.,„M , j iJl''™^ hcotaid. Iho (Uniior was imlwd down ,vith hn.wn » ont ,„ bottle, and a, ,oon as the cloth w s LIT gtaes, bod,ng water, sugar, and whisky were set "uto; he mannfactnre of toddy. I played a g,;„d knifo .nj L'k .not .hun the bowl, and took part, so fa,- as I wa We' seasoned. Croatly daring, I vontnred, bei.rc all these Seo s,,H,„, to tell .Sim's Tale of Tweedie^s dog ^^ I w Chai^ ot W . "'" '"""""""^'y «"«J into tl« Idiau ol Scots, and became, from that moment a full member of the University of Cran.oed. A littl kfte, found myself entertaining then, with a song; and a it'tl ter perhaps a little in conseq„ence_it „e''c n-ed to n liat I had had enough, and would be verv well insni ed ^^ take French leave. It was not ditBcult iZvThv it ;™aht Id b""ri '° *""^ '"y --:::;:; ;i:;! viviality had banished suspicion I got easily forth of the cha'.nbor, which reverberated wth he voices of these merry and lear„e,l g nU me, and b,-eathed a long b,-„ath. I had pa,ssed an ^.e Ue afte; AI..S ! when I looked into the kitchci, (here was mv monkey, ,lr„nk as a lo„l, toppling on the e Ke ^f Zl dresser, and performing on the' flageolet to „ audien e o the house lasses an.l .some neighbouring ploughmen I routed him promptly from his perch studc his hat on Sit rTTs Vl\':;r;t>r T" ^'^"^ '- dives, and set him eontmually on his legs again. At 3M ST. IVES I first lie sang wildly, with occasional outbursts of ouuselosg Itiuglitor. Grudimlly an inurliculato ineliiiioholy succeeded ; he wept gently at times ; would stop in the middle of the' road, say firmly - No, no, no," and then fall on his back • or else address me solemnly as " M'lord," and full on his face by way of variety. I am afraid I was not always so gentle with the little pig as I might have been, but really the position was unbearable. We made no headway at all, and I suppose we were scarce gotten a mile away from Cra- mond, when the whole Senaiiis Academicus was heard hailing, and doubling the pace to overtake m. Some of them were fairly presentable ; and tliey were all Christian martyrs compared to Rowley : but thev were in a frolicsome and rollicking humour that promise'l danger as we approached the town. They sang songs, they ran races, they fenced with their walking-sticks and umbrellas ; and, in spite of this violent exercise, the fun grew only the more extravagant with the miles they traversed. Their drunkenness was deep-seated and permanent, like fire in a peat ; or rather—to be quite just to them-it was not so much to be called drunkenness at all, as the effect of youth and high spirits-a fine night, and the night young, a good road under foot, and the world before you ! I had left them once somewhat unceremoniously ; I could not attempt it a second time ; and, burthened as I was with Mr. Rowley, I was really glad of assistance. But I saw the lamps of Edinburgh draw near on their hill-top with a good deal of uneasiness, which increased, after we had entered the lighted streets, to positive alarm. All the passers-by were addressed, some of them by name. A worthy man was stopped by Forbes. " Sir," said he, '' in the name of the Senatus of the University of Cramond, I confer upon you the degree of LL.D.,"and with the words hi bonneted liim. Conceive the predicament of St. Ires, EVENTS OK WKDNKSDAY 336 committed to the society of these outrageous youtlis, in u town wlioro the police and liis cousin were botli looiiing for lum . So fur, we imd pursued our way unniojostcd, ulthou.rh raising a chimour fit to wake the dead ; but at last hi Abercromby Place, I believe- ■ V^st it was a eresceni of Jiighly respectable houses f-onting .n a garden-Hylield and I, having fallen somew uc: in th rear with Kowlev came to a simultaneous halt. ^ur ruMans were beginning to wrench off bells and door-pl r s ; :' ^' ^ «fy •' " says IJyfield, - tliis is too murh of a good thing ! Confound it, I'm a respectable man-a public character, by George ! 1 can't afford to get taken up by the i)olice." '^ ^ " My own case exactly," said I. " Here, let's bilk them," said he. And we turned back and took our way down hill again It was none too soon : voices and alarm-bells sounded • watchmen here and there began to spring their rattles ; it was plain the University of Cramond would soon be at blows with the police of Edinburgh ! liyfidd and I run^ ning the semi-inanimate Rowley before us, made good de- spatch, and did not stop till we were several stn.cs away and the hnbbub was already softened by distance. " Well, sir," said he, " we are well out of that ! Did ever any one see such a pack of young barbarians ?" -We are properly punished, Mr. Byfield ; we had no business there," I replied. "No, indeed, sir, you may well say that ! Outrageous ' And my ascension announced for Friday, you know ' " cried the aeronaut. "A pretty scandal ! Byfield the aero- naut at the police-court ! Tut-tut ! Will you be able to get your rascal home, sir ? Allow me to offpr vnu m- n^,.^ 1 am staying at Walker and Poole's Hotel/sir, where I should be pleased to see you." tK \ n- 336 ST. IVES " The pleasure wonld be mutual, sir," said I ; but I must ^^^J^V. ^^'''* '^''^ """'^ '" ""^ ^°^^«' ^"d '-IS I watched Mr Byfield departing, I desired nothing less than to pursue tlie acquaintance. One more ordeal remained for me to pass. I carried my senseless load upstairs to our lodging, and was admitted by the landlady in a tall white nightcap and with an expres- sion singularly grim. She lighted us into the sittiiic.- room ; where, when I had seated Rowley in a chair, site dropped me a cast-iron courtesy. I smelt gunpowder on the woman. Her voice tottered with emotion M give ye nottice, Mr. Ducie," said she. -Dacent loJks houses . . ." And at that apparently temper cut off her utterance, and she took herself off without more words. I looked about me at the room, the goggling Rowley, the extmguislied fire ; my mind reviewed the laughable in- cidents of the day and night ; and I laughed out loud to myselt— lonely and cheerless laughter ! [At this point the story as written hy Mr. Stevenson breaks off, and the remaining chapters are the ivork of Mr. Quiller- Couch.] I I' 'III CHAPTER XXXI EVENTS OF THURSDAY : THE ASSEMBLY BALL But I awoke to tlie chill reminder of dawn, and found myself no master even of cheerless mirth. I had snpiDcd Avith the Senatus Acadcmimis of Cramond : so much my head informed me. It was Thursday, the day of the Assembly Bull. But the ball was fixed by the card for 8 P.M., and I had, therefore, twelve mortal hours to wear through as best I could. Doubtless it was this reflection which prompted me to leap out of bed instanter and ring for Mr. Rowley and my shaving Avater. Mr. Rowley, it appeared, was in no such hurry. I tugged a second time at the bell-rope. A groan answered me : and there in the doorway stood, or rather titubated, my paragon of body-servants. He was collarless, unkempt ; his face a tinted map of shame and bodily disorder. His hand shook on the hot-water can, and spilled its contents into his shoes. I opened on him with a tirade, but had no heart to continue. The fault, after all, was mine : and it argued something like heroism in the lad that he liad fought his nausea down and come up to time. ''But not smiling," I assured him. " please, Mr. Anne. Go on, sir ; I deserve it. But I II never do it again, strike me sky-blue scarlet 1" " In so far as that differed from your present colouring, I believe," said 1, " it would be an improvement.'' »8 337 Hit] 338 ST. lYES " Never again, Mr. Anne." "Certainly not, Rowley. Even to good men this rnav ^i^' •■ '''''''' '''''' ^^^^^— «^-d- off "Z " Yessir.** "You gave a good deal of trouble last night I hav,. J-ot to meet JIi-s. McEankiuo." ;■ As for that, Mr. Anne," said he, with an incongruous twn.kle in his bloodshot eye, " she've been up with a tmv « and a pot o, t.. The old gal'sCir: e swlred™ ^'"""^ """ '"*'" ''' J'"'' ^^' *™»''ls." I »n- One thing is certain. Eowley, that morning, should not be entrusted with a razorand the handling oft; hi" I sent h,n, baek to his bed, with orders not t! rise Lm u without p„rnr,ss,on; and went about my toilette .1010 I enjoyed it so little, indeed, that I fell to poking the s.t „,g-roo,n Are when she entered with the mZII^ and read the J/„«.^ assiduously while she brongh I,', LTd.afle!;;;.'""' ™ ""■ '"P'- '- -'-'"ttitndo breath. " Well, Mrs. McKankine ? " I be^an nnfnrnm„ o i, critical eye from the newspaper! "P^^^^^^g ^ ^ypo- '" Well,' is it ? Nhm!" ''Rowley was very foolish last night," I remarked with a discnminating stress on the name ™aiked, with , "'The ass knoweth his muster's crib.'" She pointed EVENTS OF TIIUn^DAY 339 T have an- to the herring. " It's all ye'II get. Mi.— Dncie, if that's your name." " Matlatii "—I lield out the fish at the end of my fork— "you drag it across the track of ai, ipology." I set it back on the disli and replaced tiie cover. " It is clear that you wish us gone. Well and good : grant Rowley a day for recovery, and to-morrow you shall be quit of us." I reached for my hat. '* Whaur are ye gaun ? " ** To seek other lodgings " " I'll no say Man, man ! have a care ! And me but to close an eye the nicht ! " She dropped into a chair. "Nay, Mr. Ducie, ye daurna! Think o' that innocent lamb!" " That little pig." " He's ower young to die," sobbed my landlady. **In the abstract I agree with you : but I am not aware that Rowley's death is required. Say rather that he is ower young to turn King's evidence." I stei)ped back from the door. "Mrs. McRankine," I said, "I believe you to be soft-hearted. I know you to be curious. You will be pleased to sit perfectly still and listen lo me." And, resuming my seat, I leaned across the corner of the table and put my case before her without suppression or extenuation. Iler breatiiiiig tightened over my sketch of the duel with Gognelat ; and again more sharply as I told of my descent of the rock. Of Alain sh<^ said, " I ken his sort," and of Flora twice, " I'm wonderin' will I have seen her ?" For the rest, she heard me out in silence, and rose and walked to the door without a word. There she turned. " It's a verra queer tale. If McRankine had told me the like, I'd have gien him the lie to his face." Two minutes later I heard the vials of her speech un- Bealed above stairs, with detonations that shook the house. ' 'il 1 I 340 ST. IVES iandlad/;,;b,.4lU sifted ST' ,""'/"/'"" '" "^^ by one Tavlor. D D T/,^ I',. , n ' ^'■'*'"'«' •Sim, *" pacing i,;'o"r^ T,:itu:in. :;■''''■"""" ' '^■" t^.gs of Latin vo,.o conoen tog wl fc ^ to, rT""'?"' long ago assured me, •■ JIv son w I ^ulomberg l,ad «onic day they will comfCv '°'',"°' "''"="•''"' ;viti. ohaL."' ooodii'ii;,^:" ;:;'-'- '\"'" Honu'e's Alcaics V,rfu.^ j / . *"^ ^^^'Pet to raro antecedentem scelestum ^eseruit pede Panel claudo. J paused by the windo\>/ r.. fi.,-. fi for a cold drizzle .a^ led t n , '"r,™ ™""l'-™«on ; «part„,entdi„,„,ed thei,- htr:,^,:;" ™"""' "'"'^ «.e'd™p£::" ''"'"'"'" "'^ «"«"'■ '-ed tl,e words on e«™diun:rir;zr:,:;'ir;dtr«:;\.' — ohve-greeu cout witli ^[\t buttons .nw'i f • 1 ^'^ feui Duuons and facings of watered Events of Thursday 341 silk, olive-green pantaloons, white waistcoat sprigged with blue and green forgot-nie-nots. The survey carried mo on to midchiy and the midday meal. Tlie ministry of meal-time is twice blest : for prisoners and men without appetite it punctuates and makes time of eternity. I dawdled over my chop and pint of brown stout until Mrs McRankine, after twice entering to clear away, with the face of a Cuma^an sibyl, so far relaxed the tension of unnatural calm as to inquire if I meant to be all night about it. The afternoon wore into dusk ; and with dusk she reap- peared with a tea-tray. At six I retired to dress. Behold me now issuing from my chamber, conscious of a well-fitting coat and a sliapely pair of logs ; the dignified simplicity of my tournure (simplicity so proper to the scion of an exiled house) relieved by a dandiacal hint of shirt- fnll, and corrected into tenderness by tlie virgin waistcoat sprigged with forget-me-nots (for constancy), and buttoned with pink coral (for hope). Satisfied of the effect, I sought the apartment of Mr. Rowley of the Rueful Countenance, and found him less yellow, but still contrite, and listening to Mrs. McRankine, who sat with open book by his bedside, and plied him with pertinent dehortations from the Book of Proverbs. He brightened. " My heye, Mr. Hann, if that ain't up to the knocker ! " Mrs. McRankine closed the book, and conned me with austerer appro va?. " Ye carry it well, I will say." *' It fits, I think." I turned myself complacently about. "The drink, I'm meaning. I kenned McRankine." " Shall we talk of business, madam ? In the first place, the quittance for our board and lodging." '[ 342 SI. IVES , >> 'M milk' it out on Saturdays.' "Do so; and deduct it out of tlii« " t i, j ■ , Ave of my guinea, into her k.°uiZ^ nJl^ 'T"'^" and a erown piece in my noeVe ^'t "" "","' "™ tats, will serve for RoVCVL. .,ud\n r™' "''"° " Before lorigUio,,,, 1,, „,.;„ lif,, "' e-vwiisfs. «•■- >;a«k at"hi., ivi': a'riTe'i::^::""''"^^' ''■""" "- ^" ber ; "-tor !,e „•■,<, ,, , , ■ ' , ^' """"'I'lme, remem- theu-" Y„, , '""''"""g '« 'oap out of bed there and -.' yourself ::, at"^ 'ctM:1 "„', r' T" ^^^- Strcet, or Mi«. 'r,„,, Gikhrisf'of's^: » Co',';'^"° "=^'it:;:r^i;t-r-'-e::r^::s: '"!;; «-*>• -need. ?• I,, t!^ L f o'^m L"^ "'■""'• My dear woman " -^ ^ * cieaJthekll:,"™'" '™'' '"" •»'""»' -"* 1-11 do to i-tsTuhle::;::!!^'."--, '-."-"■•"-^^ '^e ,ad to her forth „,,on the raiu-swepi street ""^""'""'' -"-d :r/''Br:tfr:r°-'^ -' "r.trd'a'i^'e.! 'ft. -Deneacu the awning a pane] nf Urri^f e n plushy pavement. Already L ^3,0!. •'" ' ' whipped in briskly, pre.-^uted mf n ^ ? ''"'''"^" ^ staircase deeorated^vUh f ^ p^^ ''^' '"^ ^^^^^'^ ^^^ « blems. A vpnerablo f n ' '" ''''f ''''''' ^nd natio uii tm- " '''''''^ ^^"'^"^^ ^^-a^ted for me at thesir it a ip a EVENTS OF THURSDAY 343 " Cloak lobby to the left, sir/' I obeyed, and exchanged my overcoat and goloslies for a circular metal ticket '^ What name, sir ?" he purred over my card, as I lingered in the vestibule for a moment to scan the ball-room and my field of action : then, having cleared his throat, bawled suddenly, " Mr. Ducie ! " It might have been a stage direction. < A tucket sounds. Enter the Vicomte, disguised: To tell the truth this entry was a daunting business. A dance had just come to an end ; and the musicians in the gallery had fallen to tuning their violins. The chairs arrayed along the walls were thinly occupied, and as yet the social temperature scarce rose to thawing-point. In fact, the second-rate people had arrived, and from the far end of the room were nervously watching the door for notables. Consequently my entrance drew a disquieting fire of observation. The mirrors, reflectors, and girandoles had eyes for me ; and as I advanced up the perspective of waxed floor, the very boards winked detection. A little Master of Ceremonies as round as the rosette on his lapel, detached himself froni the nearest group, and approached with something of a skater's motion and an insinuating smile. " Mr.-a-Ducie, if I heard aright ? A stranger, I be- lieve, to our nortliern capital, and I hope a dancer V I bowed. -Grant me the pleasure, Mr. Ducie, of finding you a partner." "If," said I, ''you would present me to tlie young lady yonder, beneath the musician's gallery " For I recog- nised Master Ronald's flame, the girl in pink of Mr. Rob- bie's party, to-night gowned in apple-green. "Miss McBean-Miss Camilla McBean ? With pleas- ure. Great discrimination you show, sir. Be so good as to follow me." I was led forward and presented. Miss McBean re- m :: c";;''T/°" ■'"' '''^' « "- geour ha^ edged ,cr Cbi.,.? ' "•'"■' """ "'"^^ ^crym- "•^'VsiioiJ in Prinees S ree vJ; r^""™ ^'"' '" ">■«* '"e botto,,,, and tl ee t IC ' ' ''''^""^ >""* »' l-erbapsyou cau tell me Vr n *:'. ■''°""'' "'« ''"'"''e. ribbon trLmings a e"; /J"™; " f ' '■^'^"^ '"'^ "'a' year ?" ° ' '"'*''' '" London and Batli tbis c;™nia't:varti::r "!«:;' ' r' '"^ ""-'^""=" wore kind euougl, to olnH , \ '""''' "" '"'"''^^ ("'bo -ffered tbemselve tof ' ^ "he";' "'"^■■""•""-o) t"ne the arrivals were follnl^, fa-room. By tbis and, standing M^tt ;k^'T 1'"'' """'' "'"' '»^'^ vociferated artl,e ball. 1;"!;^''^;'''' "=""« """r "«.,e " loom doo„ kit never tbe name my EVENTS OF THURSDAY and in 345 nerves were on tlie strain to eclio. Surely Flora would come • surely none of her guardians, natural or officious, would expect to find me at the ball. But the minutes passed, and I must convey Mrs. and Miss Mclioan back to tlieir seats beneath the gallery. ';Mrs. Gilchrist- Miss Gilchrist- Mr. Ronald Gil- christ ! Mr. Robbie ! Major Arthur Chevenix ! " The first name plumped like a shot across my bows, and brought me up standing-for a second only. Before the catalogue was out, I had dropped the McBeans at their moorings and was heading down on my enemies' line of battle. Their faces were a picture. Flora's cheek flushed, and her lips parted in the prettiest cry of wonder. Mr. Robbie took snuff. Ronald went red in the face, and Ma- jor Chevenix white. The intrepid Mrs. Gilchrist turned not a hair. "What will be the meaning of this?" she demanded, drawing to a stand, and surveying me through her gold- nmmed eyeglass. " Madam," said I, with a glance at Chevenix, - you may call it a cutting-out expedition." "Mrs. Gilchrist," he began, "you will surely not " But Iwas too quick for him. "Madam, since when has the gallant Major superseded Mr. Kobbie as your family adviser ? " " H'mph ! " said Mrs. Gilchrist ; which in itself was not reassuring. But she turned to the lawyer. "My dear lady," he answered her look, "this very im- prudent young man seems to have burnt his boats, and no douU recks ve^y Httle if, in that heroioal conflagration, he burns^our finge^ Speaking, however, as your family ad- viser -and he laid enough stress on it to convince me that there was no love lost between him and the interloping Chevenix-" I suggest that we gain nothing by protracting I M 846 ST. IVES but nonplussed. ""'' «'"™' ""<' ">« Major pale " ^O'"' 'I'om six leaves two " sni,! I . j gaged Flora', arm and towe,l l ' "'' f"'"'Vay en- batteries, "■ '"' """'J" '■■«» 'he silenced ehai.t"'' iwwittm' ! '"'"'' °' '^^ ^'"'■"' "™ -"'"'ed fo.- the flr t or se on i „e -r™ 'r'"^'' "'" "'^ '^"^-""t so, N„,v listen ' s A, '"'• ''""' ^o'"- '— D.™breok.s Hotel. 'CZ^; i':,,'" ^"'""-gb, at -i"> bim, and likely e ™ I at,, " ''™"S",^^»- S'--«ot are .nsaokin, t„e olt, bottt ;^„;— *« ™-- ,.„,,, ,„ ■"■'d ! Anne, why wi,i ,.„„ ,,^ ^^ I blfk^lrStrr '^."' ' ""^ ''^^' '»»"' - dear, the hanK is w„tel , ,st In:! '" '""""' •^"-'' ™' «ontl,. Therefore I n,Lt ',' Z^^'"."'"' "V ™.V you were lind enoiK^h to la.m, ,- . '"" "'« ""i''^ and And yon nndersn i e ;',cL ?" '" '"""*"" ■'" animal called Towzer Z °',^'"=™"'-^ ' l'l'™-to.l l,v the way. I, so trZ'n ^T" '"" '"<■" '''""'"■r, by ,1 .1 , ' "ansported to an . il i ^ I'.ortly have the faithfnl Chevenix to "^^ '" "'"^ I grow tired of Olieveni.x » company. sbf:is star^';X;';-r™T ''-^ •™'' '■■'-■■'».■ -"d reproach in h °r h^.ti",,, C" '' """ " ''"'" °^ »^"- "Andllooked„ptho„otosathometo-nig„t-,vhenl EVENTS OF THURSDAY 347 hI?M n 'V^ ,^']^r*^' ^''^ *'"^^ '^'^y ''^^'^ left '"y heart ! 0, false !-faIse of trnst that I am ' " " Why, dearest, that is not fatal, I hope. You reach hon.o to-night-yon slip them into some hiding-say in the corner of the wall below the garden " "Stop: lot mo think." She ..eked „p her fan again, and behind It her eyes darkened ui.ile I wat-'hed and she consKlered. " Yon know the hill we pass before we read, bw.inston? it has a clump of Hrs above it, like a fin. There IS a quarry on the east slope. If you will be there at eight -I can manage it, I tliink, and bring tlie money." " But why should you run the risk ?" -Please, Anue-0, please let me do something' If ynu knew what it is to sit at home while your-your dearest " '' •' "" lE Viscount of Saint- Yves I" The namr >. shouted from the doorway, rang down her faltering S( ace as with the clash of an alarm bell I saw Ronald-in talk with Miss McBean but a few yards away-spin round on his heel and turn slowly back on me with a face of sheer bewilderment. There was no time to conceal myself. To reach eitlu t the tea-room or the card- room, I must travei-e twelye feet of open floor. AVe sat in clear view of the main entrance; and there already, with eyeglass lifted, raffish, flnmboyant, exuding pomades and bad style, stood my detestable cousin. He saw us at once • wheeled right-about-face, and spoke to some one in the vestibule ; wheeled round again, and bore straight down a full swagger varnishing his malign triumph. Flora caught her breath as I stood up to accost him. "Good evening, my cousin : The nowspaper told me yon were favouring this citv with a stay." ^'At Dumbreck's Hotel: where, my dear Anne, you have not yet done me the pleasure to seek me out." i'ln 'H8 PT. IVES " I gutheml," said T " M,,.^ Lis list of l,,uh. 1 ,''?""' '"" » Slancoovor I'«".v. cousin." ' ' '° ■* "'™ "I'o.it ,„y c«,„. Ass that I \vnncl, us ,. thougl,'. """^ «"-^"' ""» ->''>'io"« danger thoVtrtT" ' '"'™ *™ ""» <" ^""■- l^"««t intimate, abont He oyc.1 me, ami ansivereil, witli i M„(r i , ^ 0" gavo US the very .levil of , i '"'S''- " All ! l-e-'-Vune, to have a hat' , ,; ^ llTfo,/"" "^1'-, m, traoks. And begad, I don't >3e 'II H "'!"""' '" ^■'""• og mg Flora >vith an insolent stare ' '" '""""^ "l'- of "sle°:'s! ""°""' ""™ "•""^'' -^ -ent alono. lie reeked I' l]^'fsGnt me, Monimve." * i Jl 1)0 shot if I do " m,;;""""" ""^ ■•"^•'"'' *''»' I-'ivilege for soldiers," he on;fe':oTd"lIe";:i,tr„:-'""'f " '— - I-"ed.,p P'"7 the game „„ " wt ^le ""'!', ^^''^ ' ™""' "' '-t <•»«/'•''-*».<. will bogiu n e e, r .■ ' '"" ^' " " Alain strike jou ? " j asked ^ ^ ^"^ ^^^ ^oes He is a handsome nvm " r,i n had treats, him diCnt;;-, itrhv!:!!!:./'" ^°" -,e bot.ee;/ge':'t'i:::r:r. zr ""^ -- ■'■■'«' -^i. ^ " """"'"J-master I A posture , EVENTS OF TIIUUSDAY 349 or two, and you interpret worth. My dear girl— that fel- low ! " She was silent. I have since learned why. It seems, if .von please, that the very same remark had })eeu made' to her by tiiat idiot Chevenix, upon me I AVe were close to the door : we pa.^sed it, and I (Iihk' u glance into the vestibule. Tliere, sure enough, at the liead of the stairs, was posted my friend of the moleskin waistcoat, in talk with a confederate by some shades ngher than himself— a red-headed, loose-legged scoundrel in cinder-grey. I was fairly in the tnip. I turned, and between the moving crowd caught Alain's eye and his evil smile. Ife had found a partner : no less a personage than Lady Fra- zer of the lilac sarsnet and diamond bandeau. For some unaccountaljle reason, in this infernal impasse my spirits began to rise, to soar. I declare it : I led Flora forward to the set with a gaiety which may have been un- mitural, but was certainly not factitious. A Scotsman would have called me fey. As the song goes-aud it matters not if I luid it then, or read it later in my wife's library — -, " Sae rantingly, sae wantonly « Sae (launtingly gnod he ; He played a spring and danced it round Beneath " never mind what. The band plnyed the spring and I danced it round, wliile my cousin eyed me with extorted approval. The quadrille includes an absurd figure-called I think, La PastourcUe. You take a ladv with either hand and jig them to and fro, for all the world like an English- man of legend parading a couple of wives for sale at Smith- field ; while tiie other male, like a timid purchaser, backs and advances with his arms dangling. I i ^ 350 ST. IVES ■ I've lived a life of sturt and strife, i die by treacherie— " desert Lady Frazer on a Lun-i^r ' °'"'- *'""" ^ ™^ him '0 satisfy ,,i,„o„ tl,a W : rtef ' "" '^^'^ *^ "»»' iwoEo^v street runners.- ■it you luive seen i driT-,^ i k.ck .tau-s .' " sho 4'" '"^ '"«'" '" » S'" •' '• The " Tliej will 1,0 watched too TK,.t i . crossed to the tea-,oo,p •„ °i „ ' '«'■« make sure." I ''i..i aside. Was there i',' "'"'"""'^'■■"e a waiter, drew "e could „„t t , iTe \™;:'' '^"'^■!""S 'l.e back e„tr;„: T lie 'vent aud, returned ]:\:j^Tt "■"'"'' ''« fl"d out ? ''«s a constable bclo„- •■ r '""""'■■• ^'^' "'ere l«-'Put to the haw for debt " I '" , " *'"""« So'lcmau to ''-»"« and, to mors l^„,r''"'°"'','-^"'"'"g"'C bar. ^i";"".«," re„lied the „ite,' "'""« "'"»*• -I'"' >.o A made niv wiv )i.i..i. i ''% clear Mi.s F on .^'^ "nconscion.bla Ol.evenix. ^vas pale enough, poo d j, , w """''" •'" ^^^^^^^J. «i'e ;^i"beswoon^g^.:::^ ;- ^-^^n^^ ''Major,,. loom, quick ! wJiile I fetch M r-'., /'^ ^'^' *° ^'^^ tea- taken home." ' ^^''- ^^^c^linst. 8he mu.t he " It is notliiuir " s1)p p.,u„ - ■■'Yes,yes.- Iwill|w,,re.'' '""«'" '">' ""=»""'?• ■•"»«' A?iui''t;',Tt::™/;t* n'';'"'^'' '° "—•<'- cf '■i'ih.g from tiK. sro „ to, ! ' ,"'". "'''.''""^ "'"'^ '" the act "■ •"""«"• ; '"■d I saw (and ai'ta-.'^ .H EVENTS OF THURSDAY 351 blessed my star for tl,e first time that night) the little heap ol silver which told tliat she had been Avinning hZ^^f'n ^^'''^''"■'■'^'" ^ ^^1^'^Pered, - Miss Flora is faint : the neat of the room ' pairfelt-"'^ '""''''''^ '^' '^^^'' ^^"tilation is considered " She wishes to be taken home." With fine composure she counted back her money, piece by piece, into a velvet reticule. ^ "Twelve and sixpence," she proclaimed. " Ye hold good cards, Mr. JJohbie. Well, Moshu tiie N^iscount, w 'II go and see about it." I led her to the tea-room : Mr. Ifobbie followed. Flora os.ed on a sola in a truly dismal stute of collapse, while the Major fussed about her witli a cup of tea. "I have sent Konald for the carriage," he announced. "Hm,'\said Mrs. (Jilchrist, eyeing him oddly, "well it s your nsk. YeM best hand me the teacup, and get ou shawls from the lobby. You have the ticketk fif leadv .'v>r ns at the top of the stairs." No soonei- M-as the Major gone than, keeping an eye on her niece this imperturbable lady stirre.l the tea and d-ank I down lierself. As she draine.l the cup-her back for the moment being turned on Mr. Hobbic-I was aware of a facial contortion. Was the tea (as children say) going the wrong way ? ^ b"'"fe ''"t. No : I believe-aid me Apollo and the Nine ! I believe -though 1 have never dared, and shall never dare to ask -thar, Mrs. Gilchrist was doing her best to wink ' On the instant entered Master Ronald with word that the carnage was ready. I slipped to the door and recon- oitred. The crowd was thick in the ball-room ; a dance n full swing ; my cousin gambolling vivaciously, and, for the moment, with his back to us. Flora leaned on Ron- a. ! , 352 ST. IVES cloak.. ' '" '^'''""« «'»«! "-ith «„ urmf,,! „f said u,r„;;rL,T"<':l :",""'™ -<• -i">- jcrseives,- .a stilt cnrtsev, •' Good „i,,U ' '^''^''''''e"' »'""e with your service.; Or . to,"- '? ! ' """ ' '"" <""'>•' '- yo'n be .o ki,K,, Mli, i: ";?;..n^;;:;»,;:;" «;;-'»-> -f .you V wraps. " "^'^"'* ye-ctill some of Mj eyes did not dare to bless hpr w stairs-M,.,s. Gilchrist lead in. P * • ' "^"'"'^ '^'''^ "^« brotl^er and Mr. Robbie 'Vf ?"^^°'^'^^ ^^ ^''' descended tlie first stln '!T ''^^^ ^ '^^^'^"d" ^s I move forward. T 1 f , 'l/'^^-''^'^^^^^ -""-r made a tern of Mrs. GUcl^X J7" ^ touch n.y arm. Y ^^ r "u^-^, f/,"^''^ ' -^ ^^is finger The other man-M oLk ' ' 'f f ' ^ ^^ ^'"^'^ ^'^ ^^^^ "•«»• ^vhispered. TJ>ey . v 27 "' '''^ ^^'"^ '^^^ ^''^ ^^^m : they seeing the ladies to their carri-L i?' "naware ; was They let n.e pass. '^' ' ^'°"'^ ^^ ^^"rse return. si.Wt;;:t,;::!^~-^'^^arted round to theda^^ Floraisfaint.1 t fsT ^""'""'•' ^^^'^-)- '' Miss back under the awni^V" 'A tU:! ?" ' ". "^ ^'^^^^^^ • called up from the other sidt !^T,^ "'^ '' ''''''' '■ " '^e z:zt'-' *^ '=^' ™' -'^°- ^'^ "«'•-' wiii'lb'!^"'""^""' "" '"""'^' °' "™ ™"'»'es_if y„„ I stretched out a protesting hand. In tlie darknes, it For five, ton beatific seconds our pulses sang together <' I love j™, ! I love yo„ . " i„ the stuffy silence rPIn™ ' ,!1"' 7™^ ■'" ■'P"'"' "P --"loliberate voice and ta I of y„ ,r busn,ess-snp|„«ing it to have a modicum of head, winch I doubt^it appears to n.e that I have iu t done yon ji serv k^p • -nul ih-^i , j ■ • -= J y <- ^civi.ii , ana tiiat makes twice. " A service, madam, 1 shall ever remember." 354 ST. IVES I'll Cllj scl\ mce tliafc, sir ; if ye'Jl k i"(Hy not forget your- with a elattor, nd i " ^' w t V'' ' '' ''"" ''' "^'^ forth into the night. '""^ ^"^ mumelone cap "Ivobio !" Robie piiiJed up. " 'J'lie gcntleniiii. will alight '' I" tho uct of su,j,„i„g fort,, I !;,,„„ ''^'"":','-'=l'««' x'-e. "itli Kl„,,., a.„l „ y foot caLl ," '""' ''"'"'''''"ko it ont upon „,„ J,'°° ^..^ j to'r"l T^ """ "'-"SS"' tlio door liang ,,y ,„j, e„r ^ '""'' " "»' "'"i I'^aiJ " Mad.'ini — vour shawl ' " ™e'!•'':„d^^::tf'':;■:,';.T;,.'°'■7»'■''^ "- "'..eei, .p,as„o„ ^^^ sUmling, alone on tl,e iucleinct liigl,- roaii, towards Edinbumh Tl ^ ™ ''■>'" "i""" "'<= 'o Plnngo aside, to Ic t L.o 2 r-'"''' ,''"'^ ^^'S'' and tliei-e I crouel.ed tL f rai'i-soaked pasture ; of flogging drivers, two l^l^tne rr "' "f " *^"'"''"'' gallop. nacsney carnages pelted by at a _.^t I'get youv' mile and a fi the sash clone cap nston. I I ; and I >lied she. nidsliako dragged id heard splashed lit high- vehicle, ding (,f )on the enough isture ; r danc- :limpse jy at a CHAPTER XXXII EVENTS OF FRIDAY MOIUNING : THE CUTTING OF THE GOUDIAN KNOT I PULLED out my watch. A fickle ray-the merest filtration of moonlight-glimmered on the dll. Fomteen hehu ■). -r 'f ^'''' ^""^'^'^'^ «^' the watchman as e had called it on the night of .M.r escape from the Cas- t e-its very tones : and this echo of memory seemed to « rdnfe nal Castle-still hnnted by the law-with possibly a .smaller chance than ever of escapc-the cockshy oftL elements-with no shelter for my head but a l^aisley sha of violent pattern. 1 1 occurred to me that I iiad tmv I d that matched ncUher it nor the climate of the Pentlands. Ihe exhilaration of the ball, the fightinjr spirit tlie 1-is^ communicated th.U of Flora', hand! died out :fm:: Jn^ the thickening envelope- of sea fog J felt like a squirrel in a rotatory cage. That was a lugubrious hour. _ 10 speak precisely, those were seven lugubrious hours • mice Flora would not U due before ei.ht .,t r ^"Pl'oso that I found it (and tiie oianocs m that fog were iierhaps against mo) would Alexander Hendry, aroused from l,is b^l, be liki T x t :;' "'V''7'"";'^ '" " "■-oiler with no more ulge I bad borne ,t down the staircase under the eyes of the .unners and the pattern was bitten upon my Clin was doubtless unique in the district, and familiar : ™ o, 1 Z: T" 7T !""■""■ "' ^"■'■^ "'■«•"- ""•'■■''■ ■«" lustnict of ai.tagomsni. Patently it formed no n.,rt of my proper wardrobe : hardly eouli it be explain^ a, a me ,l-u,uour. Eeoentrie hunters trysted under Sndr" roof : the S.x.Foot Club, for instanee. But a hun e in at:;„fw':;rbn;;;;'o,,''ed.™'"'^''- ''''"''■ ^™-^ '•°"- Tlieendwas that I wore through the remaining honrs O 1 ., t ! Po.ded m the mantle of that Spa.tan dame • mldld upon a boulder, while the rain dJsoended upon »1 oe , and nsumated a playful trickle down the ridge of ■ny spnie ; I |,„gged the lacerating fox of self-renroaeh and ugged it again aud ,,et n,y tc'eth as it bit p' ,r ; it a?"irV', T"' V'y "" ---'S--'" to heaven' was as ,f I had pulled the string of a douche-bath Ileaven flooded the fool with gratuitous tears ^aml -L UK, IMC- tin>e lucrciruiiy M-iied that Ik u re of abatement ; and I will lift but a corner of ti>e sheet EVENTS OF FRIDAY MORNING 357 "Wind in hidden gullies, uud tlie talk of lapsing waters on the hillside, filled all the spaces of the night. The high road lay at my feet, fifty yards or so below my boul- der. Soon after two o'clock (as I made it) lamps appeared in the direction of Swanston, and drew nearer ; and two hackney coac - passed me at a jog-trot, towards the opa- line haze into which the fog had subdued the lights of Edinburgh. I heard one of the drivers curse as he went by, and inferred that my open-handed cousin had shirked the weather and gone comfortably from the Assembly Ilooms to Dumbreck's Hotel and bed, leaving the chase to his mercenaries. After this you are to believe that I dozed and woke by snatcihes. 1 watched the moon descending in her foggy circle ; but I saw also the mulberry face and minatory forefinger of Mr. Romaine, and caught myself explaining to him and Mr. Robbie that their joint proposal to mort- gage my inheritance for a flying broomstick took no ac- count of the working model of the whole Rock and Castle of Edinburgh, which I dragged about by an ankle-chain. Anon I was pelting with Rowley in a claret-coloured chaise through a cloud of robin-redbreasts ; and with that I awoke to the veritable chatter of birds and the white light of dawn upon the hills. The truth is, I had come very near to the end of my en- durance. Cold and rain together, supervening in that hour of the spirit's default, may well have made me light- headed ; nor was it easy to distinguish the tooth of bclf- reproach from that oi genuine hunger. Stiff, qualmish, vacant of body, heart and brain, I left my penitential boulder and crawled down to the road. GliiJ)cing along it for sight or warning of the runners, I spied, at two gun- shots' distance or less, a milestone with a splash of white upon it — a draggled placard. Abhoi'rent thought ! Did ii ■^iil I ■it 358 ST. IVES i ^M^TJ^ "1" "r ^'" '''''' '' Champdivcrs ? myse f LtTh r^ 7 !^ hirn"_thi; I told myseli but that which tugged at nij feet was the b-isor fascination of fri^"" ^«««P«J tJienv" said I ^-r frock and sluuv-r er sho t o'" S ""' '"'~'"^^ "" inilking at six and T fnli , ^^'/°''- ^''^ goes out to the They 4 hS:" ' ' '""' ''''• 1^^-- '^^1- i'og helped me. ,',' They are, niy dear. Chevenix " 1 mean these clothes An,i t ... +i • i • poor cows." ^ ^ '''" thinking, too, of the ^^'^iie insti... ,f animals " I lifted my glass But, Anne, we must not waste time. Thev are n n "gm'^t you, and so near. 0, be serious " ' ° '"""^ __ ^ow you are talking lilte Mr. Komaine." them h, ?• """'' ''""■ '■ " '''" "'"^l*" ''^'- '"»"1^- I took She wM!^' ^"" '"" *'''''^ "^^ ^^^^'^ to l"t it." id, " It es- ko sugar." our faces t, and one upon the dl. siking pre- l— lent me >ut to the elj)e(l me. 00, of the tiy glass, -e of two h one of it came, so many I took I them, •s " lears, I for the to the iket of EVENTS OF FKIBAY MOKNING 301 ''I think nothing teaches you," sighed she. She had sewn them tightly in a little bag of 3 • oiled tl;;^ "''^'' '\' ^^'^'-"'^^"^ l-yoJngLom, a^d tuined ,t over in my hand, I saw that it was embroidered in scarlet thread with the one wonl -Anne" beneath the L on Kampant of Scotland, in imitation of the poor toy I had carved for her-it seemed, so long ago ! "I wear the original," she murmured.'' bofV'lfnf ^^'' P'^'fJ'^^' "^y J^^-east pocket, and, taking Intones '^''"' '" "'^ ^"''' ^'^"^'^ ^'' ^^ t'^^ *' Flora—my angel ! my heart's bride ! " "Hush ! " She sprang away. Heavy footsteps were connng up the path. I had just time enough to fling Mrs. Gilchrist's shawl over my head and resume my seat, when a couple of buxom country wives bustled past the mouth of the quarry. They saw «s, beyond a doubt : indeed hey stared hard at us, and muttered some comment a they went by and left us gazing at each other, ihey took us for a picnic," I whispered. S ^.'^^^"!?,y *'""?'" «^'^^ Flora, -is that they were not surprised. The sight of you " -Seen sideways i. this shawl, and with my legs hidden jlmketeif""' ' '^'^^'' ^''' '"' '"^ ^^^^^'^^^ ^^^^^^ /'This is scarcely the hour for a picnic," answered my wise girl, - and decidedlv not the weather " The sound of another footstep prevented my reply. Ihis time the wayfarer was an old farmer-looking fellow m a^shcphc,^l3 plaid and bonnet powdered with mist. He halted before us and nodded, leaning rheumatically on 1 1 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 I.I :^ 1^ 12.0 IL25 ■ 1.4 1.6 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 a>' \ iV :\ \ %^ a^ u. ^ i .11 I! i iii 362 ST. IVES "A coarse moarnin'. Ye'll be from Leadbum, Pm thinkin'?" " Put it at Peebles/' said I, making shift to pull the shawl close about my damning finery. " Peebles ! " he said reflectively. " I've ne'er ventured so far as Peebles. I've contemplated it ! But I was none sure whether I would like it when I got thero. See here : I recommend ye no to be lazin' ower the meat, gin ye'd drap in for tlie fun. A'm full late, mysel' ? " He passed on. What could it mean ? We hearkened after his tread. Before it died away, I sprang and caught Flora by the hand. " Listen ! Heavens above us, what is that ? " " It sounds to me like Gow's version of The Caledonian Hunt's Delight, on a brass band." Jealous powers ! Had Olympus conspired to ridicule our love, tliat we must exchange our parting vows to the public strains of The Caledonian Hunt's Delight, in Gow's version and a semitone flat ? For three seconds Flora and I (in the words of a later British bard) looked at er.ch other with a wild surmise, silent. Then she darted to the path, and gazed along it down the hill. " We must run, Anne. There are more coming ! " We left the scattered relics of breakfast, and, taking hands, scurried along the path northwards. A few yards, and with a sharp turn it led us out of the cutting and upon the open hillside. And here we pulled up together with a gasp. Right beneath us lay a green meadow, dotted with a crowd of two or three hundred people ; and over the nu- cleus of this gathering, wiiere it condensed into a black swarm, as of bees, there floated, not only the dispiriting music of Tlte Caledonian Huufs Delight, but an object of size and shape suggesting the Genie escaped, from the EVENTS OF FRIDAY MORNING 363 Fisherman's Bottle as described in M. Galland's ingenious Thousand and One Nights. It was Byfield's balloon—the monster Lnnardi—'m process of inflation. " ConlouiKl Bylield ! " I ejaculated in my haste. " Who is Byfield ?" " An aeronaut, my dear, of bilious humour ; which no doubt accounts for his owning a balloon striped alternately witli liver-colour and pale blue, and for his arranging it and a brass band in the very lino of my escape. That man dogs me like fate." I broke olf sharply. '• And after all, why not ?" I cried. The next instant I swung round, as Flora uttered a piteous little cry; and there, behind us, in the outlet of the cutting, stood Major Chevenix and Ronald, The boy stepped forward, and, ignoring my bow, laid a hand on Flora's arm. " Yon will come home at once." I touched his shoulder. "Surely not," I said, "seeing that the spectacle apparently wants but ten minutes of its climax." He swung on me in a passion. "For God's sake, St. Yves, don't force a quarrel now, of all moments ! Man, haven't you compromised my sister enough ? " " It seems to me that, having set a watch on your s^bter at the suggestion and with the help of a casual Major of Foot, you might in decency reserve the word 'compro- mise ' for home consumption ; and further, that against adversaries so poorly sensitive to her feelings, your sister may be pardoned for putting her resentment into action." "Major Chevenix is a friend of the family." But the lad blushed as he said it. " The family ? " I echoed. " So ? Pray did vour aunt invite his help ? Ko, no, my dear Ronald ; you cannot answer that. And while you play the game of insult to k 364 ST. IVES i your sister, sir, I „iU ,ee ttat you eat the discredit of '■As^nZZU'T''"'"^"'^ ^'''°'' '''PV'ng forward. Miss Gilchrist lias been traced to tlio hill i ! ' occurred to n. fl.of fi " ' ^"^ »« it secretly ™ j; :r r:= Sd^; 'r £™-. r cried, and flung out „ i,a„d. "" ' ''" I looked up Sure enough, at that instant a grey-coatcd n.y friend of the molesic „ taistcoa ani T "*'^ '^ sidling down the slope towards t ' "" ^'^ ^"™ thI,ks°""Y"'"'>i'* '' "" "PP^™ 'hat I owe you my thanks Your stratagem in any case was kindly ,„ea™t " stiffly" ™ """ ''""''™' '» ^o-'dor," said'tho M "y ae qZt' pth' ' "j *"*• f • ^'^^ • ^""'^ » <"•«» back "Th^lr ^ ^ , "'■'''"'* ^ <•<"»'' hinder." T ...n ™^7°','' ,'">'''■'«"<'.■ I have another notion Flora " Jrtrterw -sCcr r r "-t ■^''"" ' your thoughts go with t TiStcof : ^^^^ ''''-' ' ^^ hof htdt:; s^ngtr tSr ^ '-*-• ^ -^^-^ I heard a shout behind me; and, glancing back, saw my EVENTS OF FRIDAY MORNING 3(15 pursuers— three now, with my full-bodied cousin for wliip- per-in— change their course as I leapt a brook and headed for tlie crowded inclosure. A somnolent fat man, bulging, like a feather-bed, on a three-legged stool, dozed at tire re- ceipt of custom, with a deal table and a bowl of sixpences before him. I dashed on him with a crown-piece. "No change given," he objected, waking up and fum- bling with a bundle of pink tickets. " None required." I snatched the ticket and ran through the gateway. I gave myself time for another look before mingling with the crowd. The moleskin waistcoat was leading now, and had reached the brook ; with red-head a yard or two behind, and my cousin a very bad third, panting-.-it pleased me to imagine how sorely- across the lower slopes to the east- ward. The janitor leaned against his toll-bar and still followed me with a stare. Doubtless by my uncovered head and gala dress he judged me an all-night reveller— a strayed Bacchanal fooling in the morroAv's eye. Prompt upon the inference came inspiration. I must win to the centre of the crowd, and a crowd is invariably indulgent to a drunkard. I hung out the glaring sign- board of crapulous glee. Lurching, hiccupping, jostling, apologising to all and sundry with spacious incoherence, I plunged my way through the sightseers, and they gave me passage with all the good-humour in life. I believe that I descended upon that crowd as a godsend, a dancing rivulet of laughter. They needed entertain- ment. A damper, less enthusiastic companv never gath- ered to a public show. Though the rain had ceased, and the sun shone, those who possessed umbrellas were not to be coaxed, but held them aloft with a settled air of gloom which defied the lenitives of nature and the spasmodic cajolery of the worst band in Edinburgh. " It'll be near 366 ST. IVES p m' III' II fulJ, Jock?" ''It Willi" -iTp'in , .• , " Aiblius hn wnll " 'will f, ^V^'"'^"^ in a meenit ?" I"--?" ''I shla wo l'^\V:'^'^;"^^'^'^^-- ^ad we come to bury Byfield not to 'l^- '' "^^ '^''' l^ave displayed a blitlerttetst '''"'' ^""^ ^^^ "^^"g^^^ proceedings witli a mien of , tn! "^ ^'""^ '''™'''' «'« »ay have been ea.ol ^glh" " i:;''™"'','''''''""- "« ""> front, l,is imder.,ngs„re shift,';, ^^ "'"*'='"' «" veyed the hvdi-ogen ..■,? 1^^^!.^ V * ' '"'* '''"■'■'' <^»"- »' it« ropes. .sCc;;'tratS'tr'™'r'' ^""">- «toggmng into the eloa/s,,acob;„fath "'"'' '"" "'" ^__ And ho,.„ a voice hailed and fetohedmo up ,v,-tha,.on„d '' Oucie, by all that's friend I v r pi and prop o,„,^,,,, ,;::;::;^,;„„,']^-'e,f ». .outh ™'"'^S Wamtus ; and, witiAl.S 'itVj ^ , 7f f "'« hydrogen^ ladder and fixed it .„„! I " ^''"''"n down a rone ;;Cut the r^of;""' ' ""^ '^'■™''ling up li,»ard., heaved myself over the -Recovei-iiig mvsplf ^n *i ■ , »y tongue a ..eaffairel f r^tin''/ f^ "'''■ "»" »„ dred upturned and contorted ft" '"""«''">''' b""- »'«bt- There had Iain my reaf „??'''"''' ""' "" « "o^- boast rage now suddenly baffled r' '" J'"" '-ddenwild- Pnnt, and sickened. Kor™ a,' • '"^ "' "^ olear as My kick had sent Moleski; flWnt !"V" "iT '"'' '» "='on. to earth, prone beneath tte 2el '' f '"'" ' """^ ''""'O retainer he lay with ha, I '^f ""'""'on' bnlk of his -d nose buriod'in the ^^y sj^ ""'^ " -'« Hi rope- CHAPTER XXXIII "THE UNCOMPLETE AERONAUTS" n.mbli„g bass, l^^' 'Zl,:i ^^^P^," .'° « >ow, voice caught iin thp <,.,.„„, '"'""J'' ™'^ "xlgo of the floor. and uplifted a strained, .vliite face. it tovv- piist it like a pendulum, caught it ig cu„c and missed again. At the third attemnt ho blundered nght against it, and flnng an arm overT, l , t.^tThrd'."'"^'""" '" ' '"•— - -»«■■«'.;•. voll'l e."*''"' """^ '"''°""- "' ™ !""« "«>' ""defeatedly Thank vo : fi ? ""J ■"'*"" '■•■'™ '«^" "■'"■•'' too Ihank you, Byfield my boy, I will : two fingers onlv-a harmless steadier." " onij— a, He took tlie flask and was lifting it. Bnt his ,W dropped and hi, hand Inmg arrested ■" II He's going to faint," I eried. " The strain " btram on yonr grandmother, Ducie ! What's /hat 9" He was star.ng past my shoulder, and on the in to t. was aware of a voieo-not the .oronaut's-speak ng be hind me and, as it were, out of the clouds,- ^ "I take ye to witness. Mister Byflcld— L" Consider if yon please. For si.x days I had been oseil- h t ng w, h,n a pretty eomplete eircumferenee of aC nice a pnot I quivered and swung to this new apprehen sion like a needle in a compass box apprehen- On the floor of the car, at my feet, lay a heap of plaid rugs and overcoats, from which, successively and paWulIv here emerged first a hand clutching a rusty beaver hat' next a mildly indignant face in specLles, aifd flnl Iv tt rearward of a very small man in a seedy suit of black He rose on his knees, his finger-tips resting on the floo , and (( THE INCOMPLETE AEliONAUTS " 371 jaw contemplated the uerouuut over liis glasses with a world of reproach. " 1 take ye to witness, Mr. By field ! " Byfield mopped a perspiring brow. " My dear sir/' he stammered, "nil a mistake-no fanlt of mme-explain presently" ; tlien, as one catcliing at an inspiration, "Allow me to introduce you. Mr. Dahnahoy Mr. " ■" "My name is Sheepshanks," said the little man stiffly *' But you'll excuse me " " Mr. Dalmahoy interrupted with a playful cat-call - Hear, hear ! Silence ! ' His name is Sheepshanks. On the Grampian Hills his father kept his flocks-a thou- sand sheep '-and, I make no doubt, shanks in proportion. Lxcuse you. Sheepshanks ? My dear sir ! At this alti- tude one shank was more than we had a right to expect • the pluml multiplies the obligation." Keeping a ti^ht hold on his hysteria, Dalmahoy steadied himself by a roi)e and bowed. '■ -And I, sir,^'_as Mr. Sheepshanks' thoroughly bewil- dered gaze travelled around and met mine-- 1 sir -im tiie Vicomte Anne de Keroual deSt. Yves, at your service. 1 haven t a notion how or why ,v y. come to bo hineltTr,-o™ar";:d'i;ie"'™';^;'; " ^'"«"-" »■■» » « concave, ite horizons o„„T„"t, life \l r' '^''™' «''°"'' bowl_a bowl hoined in „ • yj. ° ""' "' "■ •'''■'"o'v our eyes X IZ , 'do,ic::f ^ d dl f " ""■'"=' ""' '» syllabub of snow uZTTiu . 'f}'"^ '" " '"'Wed balloon became ; sSiow „ . f" ""'" ''"^""- »' *^ might call it) miJd „f !^> ■"" ' "" '""otliyst (you rather by tl^ p„.„^L ''"''"' ""^ "° P"™ptible wind, J mc jjuaSg or tne sun .s rfl,v<^ flio f„^^u ^ , parted ; and then behold, deep i , ^t ' .^ ■°°'' '""' "nd shining, an acre or tvo oTt e et^, ^"''.7"'"^'' "THE INCOMPLETE AEK0NAUT8 " 373 waved it • f n 1 ■ !^^T '^' «'^ tJ^e bruve Imud tliat n^.u.ir in many things, she was at one with (1... ,.,... f .- s. .„ ,t. „,aive ana incrable distn.t:n;,::;^„ I::,:! Either I faile 1 i '™ rt„ ".f ^"'^.'-"'e.. growth, .ny descent of the ''Dovr«'l^^l' ' ".,"''' """"°"^ "^ th;. I .. a oh..e„rr'X:,rtr^j,ri rollinff stoi.P . in.. • *^^ *^"'^"^' '^''^e of a to the q„1 fle Zmm It "' "'" """• ^™» wa*, a:dT.«:St'^^f "',"" ^"'"'^*' "-'^O "P- on.y V .oadi^tho b:i:t: rttr ir-'-, paper overboard, could we tell tl,.,rtl u^ "P* °' all. No. and agaia we iZMw ly To Bvlld"™' "' pass nformed us hi,t f„,. „ , ^ ' "yndd's com- it. Of diz. „e,s I felt ,0 r ' ™' " '""* ™™'- S-^^^ed 1 1 fMJ 874 ST. IVES TZTJl' ""'"'^ ™'»' "-< -ot been le. original sin conscious of ie But look here, you kn puteme,„adeviLbawktrf^Uit'„""''^^' and this ooitdoes/'I ao-,.eo,j ** Vr... , .• Byfiold began to in-itat ^ f t„ IdlT"?' '""■•" "Perhaps /'said I, .<„r. Sheepilrtil' It '™'- I paid in advanop " Mr qi! i , t)xpuin. -ize tl opening™ Ited- 'TZu^T' '''"' '" man.'^ "^^^^ ^^^^ ^s, I'm a married Proctttr '™ P"'"" ^"" '>^- "» -<'™"'age of n, na™o^Mr."!!L^°°'' ^™"«'' J^' »»- '» give n,o your ;'The Vicomte Anne de Kiironal de St. Yves " Mr. Sheepshank, harked bacf at'"' "" ™«^-" and-d'ye see '-Vr, SI,L i , " ""arried man, ''»s no sympathy wh h 7 '"'' "' ■'"" ""«''* =«y of Dumfries "^ balloon.ng. She was a Guthri ;; Whieh aceonnts for it, to be snre," said I beenana,Li:;;^::^;'^»-^r;te?t'"'' "7 'T even, I sav fpvm a- i-u ■ ' ^' ' I might eyes'shoneMSd',, tiirr "f- rV""-". ",'' '""" an ascension there in October '85. He came d„™ i -^■■'^'Miia.iia-^iYini»iinnii.iiiiii mjn i, ■. . nscious of Id at my and this '•selfasol- iirof ns." last mo- ted for." towaway. Tl." eager to married e of us. Qe your til have )yage." (3 man, it say, Juthrie 5 long might i mild incent en ho down "the incomplete Ai'KONAUTS" 376 at Cupar. The Society of Gentleman Golfers at Cupar presented him with an address ; and at Edinburgh he was udmitted Knight Companion of the Beggar's Benison, a social company, or (as I may say) crew, since defunct, 'a tlnn-faced man, sir. He wore a peculiar bonnet, if I may use the expression, very much cocked up behind. The sliape became fashionable. He once pawned his watch with me, sir ; that being my profession. 1 regret to say he redeemed it subsequently ; othe le I might have the pleasure of showing it to you. yes, the theory of ballooning lias long been a passion with me. But in deference to Mrs. Sheepshanks I have abstained from tlie actual practice— until to-day. To tell you the truth, my wife believes me to be brusliing off the cobwebs in the Kylesof Bute." "Are there any cobwebs in the Kyles of Bute ? " asked Dalmahoy, in a tone unnaturally calm. "A figure of speech, sir— as one might say, holiday- keeping there. I paid Mr. Bytield five pounds in advance. I hiive his receipt. And the stipulation was that I should be concealed in the car and make the ascension with liim alone." " Are we then to take it, sir, that our company offends you ?" I demanded. _ He made haste to disclaim. " Not at all : decidedly not in the least. But the chances were for far less agreeable associates." I nodded. " And a bargain's a bargain," he wound up. -So it is," said I. -Byfield, hand Mr. Sheepshanks back his five pounds." "0, come now!" the aeronaut objected. "And who may you be to be ordering a man about ?" '•I believe 1 have already answered that question twice in your hearing." m 376 kill. ST. IVES "Mosha the Visconnf ti • other ? I dare say I' ^^""g^^^y de Soinething-or- ,';^^^®y<^u any objection ? - JNot the smallest. For '.11 t . Burns, or Kapoleon Buonaml ' ^^" ^'^ ^^^^^t Mother of the Grace n to BaT'!^ 7 "'^^^^^"^ f^'°«i the first as Mr. Ducie and v ' ^''' ^"* ^ ^"^w you Don't see.>' H Veaehe/" "? *f ' ^' '^^^* ^'- ^^- string. ^'^''^ "^ ^ ^^a^d towards the valve- II What ?_baek to the enclosure ? - curreS a^rlTlli^^^^^^^^^ 'T ^^^"^^ ^ ^^^^^^^ hour, perhap . Thatt Z ^ t '^*' '^ *^'^^^ °^"es an make it out." ''' ^^'^^ ^^^ *« ^he south of us, as I " But why descend at all ? '^ title, f„,. that Ltt'rwS d IV™" ' .'^'"^'^ • -d % a I took it at the time for acl, u - T"'' '''"' " ^^oimt." Imve my strong doTbtr" ' '""'' ' ■"" ' '"'gi" to The fellow was danaeroiK T .*„„ j pretence of piclciu. up TdIm V ? ^n^'-Iantly, „„ terlj- cold of a sudfe/ '^ ^ ' '" "'' "'^ '""^ t"med bit- "*.'f 't;;Cid he7^ '"■.'•™'» -' " ^O" -"•» We leaned to««,er over ;,k'''""^ "'" ™'™-=tri„g. I mistalce not ?' I saM ""'.''.'•'"'='™' »' tl^e car. « i, Champdiver"" ' "^'"'""^ '""' "'h" »ame was He nodded. " The gentleman who raised ihoi- v ^^ ^ . "f/;-^ was nry own eou'r^e ^ii^^tV''^"''"^ .'ve ,o„ my word of ironour to that." oLelvi^^IhaJ THE INCOMPLETE AEKONAUTS '617 this staggered liim, I added, mighty slyly, " I suppose it doesn't occur to you now that the whole affair was a game for a friendly wager ? " " No," he answered, brutally, " it doesn't. And what's more, it won't go down." "In that respect," said I, with a sudden change of key, " it resembles your balloon. But I admire the obstinacy of your suspicions; since, as a matter of fact, I am Champdivers." " The mur " " Certainly not. I killed the man in fair duel." "Ha!" He eyed me witli sour distrust. "That is ■what you have to prove." " Man alive, you don't expect me to demonstrate it up here, by the simple apparatus of ballooning ! " "There is no talk of 'up here,'" said he, and reached for the valve-string. " Say ' down there ' then. Down there it is no business of the accused to prove his innocence. By what I have heard of the law, English or Scotch, the boot is on the otlier leg. But I'll tell you what I can prove. I c'an prove, sir, that I have been a deal in your company of late ; that I supped with you and Mr. Dalmahoy no longer ago than Wednesday. You may put it that we three are here together again by accident ; that you never sus- pected me ; that my invasion of your machine was a com- plete surprise to you, and, so far as you were concerned, wholly fortuitous. But ask yourself what any intelligent jury is likely to make of that cock-and-bull story." Mr. Byfield was visibly shaken. "Add to this," I proceeded, " that you have to explain Sheepshanks ; to confess that you gulled the public by advertising a lonely ascension, and haranguing a befooled multitude to the same intent, when, all the time, you had a companion concealed in the 378 ST. IVES I least charitable olloMs^^^^r'"' ^■'"'"''' "P™ "« g"rae ill Edinburgh is „„ ' ti,» f'n'-''''", ""^ ""'» y""' ■'»d yc. ascension, "f aii^'Z ^ .'it'^ohl"'™' °' ^™ crowd con hi liave told von 'rh! " '" '""''"y's you in the face; and next tn,,. '"' '™' "'"'•" »'""'« ■"•«t leoognise t. cCid I'^T T' '""•'"'"' ™""y g"i»easf„rtheeo„ven°e,,celf\ r'T ^■°" '"•" '""'<'™' tl.at offer „„ conditio" t!^ ?V""'' '*'."''""• ' '«>"' ''»"1'1« t.-ip, and that y , p, , teTt°'''V''-?'"" ''"""S "'i^ '" By all means " T I , sfcammered. M,-. Sheepshanks to ^^'ac^c:;: b!^ ™^' "^ ""'^'"^ iJns will be whiskey," the htiU nounced: ''three bottlp. \t ^''^/'"'^ pawnbroker an- der, ye'll find wb" k '^t,, ^^i ! -'^^^ 'S-ely, Elshen- will/ said I, ' but Fm JT ^ ^''""- ' ^'^ ^^^"bt I «nd it's a 4 s en' r ,-r^ confident of its quality; planned from GrT;„ock'to Jh!?; '''; ''''^^"^'^'^^^' -' ^^nd thence coastwLeTs^J^.^^f"^ ^"*« ^"^ back, told l-r,ifshe l^afan.^^^^^^^^^^ I l^er letter to the c.re of ?^ communicate, to address - care of .he postmaster, Ayr-ha, ha I" (( THE INCOMPLETE AERONAUTS" 379 lie broke off nnd gazed reproiichfully into Dalmalioy's im- passive face. "Ayr— air," he explained : "a little play upon words." "8kyo would have heen better," suggested Dalniahoy, without moving an eyelid. "Skye? Dear me -capital, capital I Only you see," lie urged, " she wouldn't expect me to be in Skye." A minute later he drew me aside. " Excellent company your friend is, sir ; most gentlemanly manners; but at times, if I may say so, not very gleg." My hands by this time were munb with cold. We had been ascending steadily, and Byficld's English thermom- eter stood at thirteen degrees. I borrowed from the heap a thicker overcoat, in the pocket of which I was lucky enough to find a pair of furred gloves ; and leaned over for another look below, still with a corner of my eye for the aeronaut, who stood biting his nails, as far from me as the car allowed. The sea-fog had vanished, and the south of Scotland lay spread beneath us from sea to sea, like a map in monotint. :N'ay, yonder was England, with the Solway cleaving the coast— a broad, bright spearhead, slightly bent at the tip —and the fells of Cumberland beyond, mere hummocks on the horizon ; all else flat as a board or as the bottom of a saucer. White threads of high-road connected town to town : the intervening hills had fallen down, and the towns, as if in fright, had shrunk into themselves, con- tracting their suburbs as a snail his horns. The old poet was right who said that Olympians had a delicate view. The lace-makers of Valenciennes might have had the trac- ing of those towns and high-roads ; those knots of guipure and ligatures of finest meaw-work. And when I consid- ered that what I looked down on— this, with its arteries and nodules of public traffic— was a nation j that each 380 ST. IVES "en-roost ; it o,,mo i to 1 m Z,"', ''" ^''°'"'™^'' -^ blem was the bee, and tlZZ"! "l"' '"^ ^'"I'oror's e„,. onough. "'" ^"t""' 'I'e spider's web, sure it- It'^acrstpostt::!:^:"""" y" »«". and accept "ow ,nade ,„e ..ffj;."! groVr.,".";';.', ^o" r"'^^ ^•-' eo.ve „ part of tbera to be trae ' a '"■"''' """ ' P^'- amb,tion-how can i,e help it t, ''"?"'">'' «'■■. has papers feed it for a while -til' f! ''^''''"'' ""^ ""s- Plaud him. But i„ its h^i H, ""',?■"" *"""•' ""'^ »P- the mountebank, and se™,'t ?".""= ™"''^ ''™ « h ««d of his tricks. Twl'! rf. '" '*™P "■» "hen sometimes ? p„r i„ ,, o™.! , " '■■" '"' '"S''^ 'his tebank-„o, by God, he islot I " * '" '' ""' ■""»•">- Jhe man spoke With gennine passion, j ,,„„„, ^^ ""o*;f/t:f;trmrk. ""^ ""•"• ' "^^ ^»" w". He shook his hpnr? ffnu that is.- '''^- ^^^^ ^^^-e true, sir ; partly true, "I am not so sure A h^iir. to discover, may alte; the per letive of'" ^"'.'"' ' ^^^>" Here are the notes ; and on thetorA?"'^'' ' ambitions, ^vord that you are not It „^'^ ^^ them I give you my should the Zunardi be able ! ?^ ^^y'^'nal- How long " I have never tr ed it h f t 'T*'"^ ^^^^^^ '" «>"r ? " -say twenty.four :; a pi^eh " "'"^^^^ "^ ^^"^^ ^^-s " We will test it. Thecurrpnf t or from that to .orth-by^t^ti IS ^e^ r*"^"'' "the incomplete AEliOXAUTS" 381 accept He consulted the barometer. "Something under three miles." Dulmahoy heard and whooped. " Hi ! you fellows, come to lunch! Sandwiches, shortbread, and cleanest (ilenlivet— Elshender's Feast :— ' Let old Tomotheua yield the prize, Or both divide the crown ; He raised a mortal to the skies * Sheepshanks provided the whiskey. Rise, Elshender observe that you have no worlds left to conquer, and hav- ing shed the perfunctory tear, pass the corkscrew. Come along, Dueie ; come my Daedalian boy ; if you are not hungry, I am, and so is— Sheepshanks— What the dickens do you mean by consorting with a singular verb ? Ver- bum cum nominativo—l should say, so are slicepshanks." Byfield produced from one of the lockers a pork pie and a bottle of sherry (the viaticum in choice and assortment almost explained the man) and we sat down to the repast. Dalmahoy's tongue ran like a brook. He addressed Mr. Sheepshanks with light-hearted impartiality as Philip's royal son, as the Man of Ross, as the divine Clarinda. He elected him Professor of Marital Diplomacy to tlie Univer- sity of Cramond. He passed the bottle and called on him for a toast, a song— "Oblige me, Sheepshanks, by making the welkin ring." Mr. Slieepslianks beamed, and g:ive us a sentiment instead. Tlie little man was enjoying iii.nself amazingly. "Fund of spirits your friend lias, to be sure, sir, quite a fund." Either my own spirits were running low or the bitter cold had congealed them. I was conscious of my thin ball suit, and moreover of a masterful desire of sleep. I felt no inclination for food, but drained hnlf a tumblerful of the Sheepshanks' whiskey, and crawled beneath the pile S^e 382 ST. IVKS ""certainty in my tS ""■" """«'" "'""' ««cent of dreams I l,eai-d n.,l„, i '*>'"' "'" "'tornoo,). I„ voices i„ ri° :; ;;f :; t?''^"^"^ "■«"« *" 'i: that they were growing t'pro" „,L T, '""f '"'"^ "^•■"•e Po>.tt,Iati„g,„pp,„„„t|;i,'l;'°;' »■«• I I'eard Byfiold ex- timt Slieepshanlis liad stum r, ' """^ '''^' *» A"'' with an empty bottle th'mn, T "''"'= '"'"^"■'"i"g. " Oid Hielaid spo ts " xnlZTn f *"'™« *''« ™'«'r Of vain langLter": " hi:t Ll"; ^if^'s""?? "="" iw=,I,-„ ,.„.. ...'."-"'r^s out m the Porty-five. Sorry'to ^ eTo rDtJ^'-f'f T "" '" "" It did not occnr to me to sn,!t^ 7 ""'' ™^ ''"'«' ■" I turned over and d" ed a'aif '"'^" '" """ '°™'«»'«'7- It seemed but a mimue later that -Lh, ■ ■ woke me ; with a stab of pat ■ tl ™ '® " '">' "'•"•» l-omg split with a wedge of/, ^^ "'^ """I*''^* ""■■0 name cried aloud, and sat m, t" r , '""'"" ' '"»"•'' ™y broad flood of moonhV^ "' ' "' "'^''"^^ '''"'Wnjr in a Dalraahoy. ^'" ''™'' ''g'""^' "'o agitated fa'ce oit iapse"dTkZre''tttro!it mtr";;' '"•' "' ""^ ''^'' »>- a-^play. Across bis leg" " ' ' '' "■'"' '"8^ """ a™s 'oci^er, reclined Sheepsbfn'k ''d ' f^'^"'^ '«'""«' « approving smile. " aX ,',r f ^ '' ,"''"'""'^ '""' an ■nahoy, between gasps s TY ""''^'"""^ ^al- can't carry his liqSor^l ke a .^e 2' """' ,"""'"""«'"">'« i both of ns pitcl! out ball' sf:r,- "™'«l" i' f"""/ «rst thing in the world ote th^i I -T ''" '""P^^' aWe to reason. No holdi„. «, j* f .P"''" "'J'*"' 'n>™- *■ Sheepshanks ; Byfleld got him >> THE INCOMPLETE AERONAUTS " 383 down ; too late : faint. Sheepshanks wants ring for 'shist- ance : i^ulls string : breaks. When the string breaks Lii- nanli won't fall— tlia's the devil of it." " With my tol-de-rol," Mr. Sheepshanks murmured. "Pretty— very pretty." I cast a look aloft. Tiie Lunnrdi was transformed : every inch of it frosted as with silver. All the ropes and cords ran with silver too, or liquid mercury. And in the midst of this sparkling cage, a little below the hoop, and five feet at least above reach, dangled the broken valve-string. "Well," I said, "you have made a handsome mess of it. Pass me the broken end, and be good enough not to lose your head." "I wish I could," he groaned, pressing it between his palms. " My dear sir, I'm not frightened, if that is your meaning." I was, and horribly. But the thing had to be done. The reader will perhaps forgive me for touching shyly on the next two or three minutes, which still recur on the smallest provocation and play bogey with my dreams. To balance on the edge of night, quaking, gripping a frozen rope ; to climb and feel the pit of one's stomach slipping like a bucket in a fathomless well~I suppose the intolerable pains in my head spurred me to the attempt— these and the nrgent shortness of my breathing-much as a toothache will drive a man up to the dentist's chair. I knotted the broken ends of the valve-string and slid back into the car : then tugged the valve open, wliile with my disengaged arm I wiped the sweat from my for-head. It froze upon the coat-cuff. In a minute or so the drumming in my ears grew less violent. Dalmahoy bent over the aeronaut, who was bleed- ing at the nose, and now began ic- breathe stertorously. N^heepshanks had fallen into placi(. amber. I ke the ! \\ i ■ 384 va]ve ST. IVES m of fog_ I'Jsen : the coat of silver. By.„„d Z ' ,.r "' '" "= oongelatod 1"" «^ «.e fog, an'd 1^^^:Zu^!J'"f ^' "^™ rcsonmg solitary serans .,,,,1 .1!. . "^ '""'"""' "«. oy- opened and sl,„t onT:Z'ljoT:- ^'""^ ""^ oh'mneys, more and more uZZt T f r V" ^'""'"■•f P»ss. Our course lav soiUlT / '.""'"''' "'« "»»'- "bouts ? Dalmahoy i^ei,r»L { Jf'- ""' °"'- ''l""'"- »d thencefor>vard'i le Si f '"CT'' '"'"«"- I pulled out mv ivatol, „ , t , ^ "''''' """""l on. and found it ru^d w1 ' T "t ' '"V'-S""- '» ''-I ; »te past four. DrvLht , ' ?'' "' '"''""^ ""'' Eighteen hours-sa/twfat; 2 7;^'?, T' "^ '^ «"• «n™oasti.°z„,jste;fT;;,:oi: t^;:""! -^--d and Its voice faded back with tl„ '""gmg surf, M.ing haven. ' "'" S"'"""^'- »' a white-washed ::i^'.eB„gti?ci.:X„'ar-^" 1 saj — are jou sure ? " ward^wiih'aX™::' ^^«^'^' «■"»« "P and coming for- " The Engl'ish Chan-^-] " J^Tke French flddiestiei," said he with o,ual prompt- TIIK INCOMPLETE AEUONAUTS " 885 It was not worth " 0, ]iavo it as you please ! " I retorted, arguing with the man. "What is the hour?" I told him tliat my watch had run down. His hud done the same. Dulmalioy did not carry one. We searched the still prostrate Sheepshanks : his had stopped af ten min- utes to four. Byfield replaced it and underlined his dis- gust with a kick. ** A nice lot/' ho ejaculated. " I owe you my thanks, Mr. Ducie, all the same. It was touch and go with us, and my head's none the better for it." *' But I say," expostulated Dalmahoy. " France I This is getting past a joke." "So you are really beginning to discover that, are you ? " Byfield stood, holding by a rope, and studied the dark- ness ahead. Beside him I hugged my conviction-iiour after hour, it seemed : and still the dawn did not come. He turned at length. *' I see a coast line ii the south of us. This will be the Bristol Channel, and the balloon is sinking. Pitch out some ballast, if these idiots have left any." I found a couple of sandbags and emptied thom over- board. The coast, as a matter of fact, was close :it liand. But the Lunardi rose in time to clear the cliff barrier by some hundreds of feet. A wild sea ran on it : of its surf, as of a grey and agonising face, we caught one glimpse as we hurled high and clear over the roar: and, a minute later, to our infinite dismay were actually skimming the surface of a black hillside. -Hold on ! " screamed By- field, and I had barely time to tighten my grip when-crash ! the car struck the turf and pitched us together in a heap on the floor. Bump ! the next blow shook us like peas iu a bladder. I drew my legs up and waited for the third. 26 1*1 386 ST. IVES None Woiie came. Tlie cur o-i.,..,f a back to equilibnun, 7^!^^ rS^:^ ^^nn, s^o.^y Z^; '"n^r::;^''^' 1-"-....,, piekea ourselves up, tossed "gain. TJie chine of tl.o tall h ruga, ill. <'verbourd, and niounroti I^'^ck and was lost, and ve s on^'f ''""'l'^'."«-'^'«'''k, fell shadowy. "^ ^''^''i"^ ^o'*^v'ard into formless ^^^^;;Confound it I >' said Byfield, ^^ the land can't be nnin- ■■s. For o,.e good l,„, 1 t !u ""°" '""•abandoned tuneless I„meni°i„„ ^ sTJ ?' /'"■""S'' "'■''°» '» ">o '- oollar-bono >™ broken '"'"'"'''' "''° "'^'""^ that 'lay was trembling si, ; !. , r*' " i''""' "' "'^ ™""l'. -eendod upon us f ntil i onT! 'i':''' " ^l'""" and do- and these, cnt by ,, m „ l"' " '"""" ^'"■■S^ °' ^''is, de;dy with streams of edlol. ™"'« "'"' ""«" ='«!■ " Over with the ffrannel • " n.ra 1 1 rt"'--r and pnlledranTfhe Jfu'^esI'^rrV" "T l^'"" towards us. '-''""ieiess earth rushed up aomo i"oaic!,iabie':s:vr;ot.r.'':'! '"/r"^' •"" with anchored s„.>,p7„^ '"t„|, 'f'''^ ^^'""■•y^ popalons curve „i the westeramost ..ni , 1 *!'*''' "' »'' '» ^^ -erside..terraee:t,i-lV4^S-:--™- (( THE INCOMPLETE AiiuONAUTS " 387 in aij arapliitheatro; its cliinmeys lifting tlioir smoke over jvgni.ist tlie thiwiu The tiers curved uwiiy soiithwiinl to u round castle and a spit of rock", off whicli a bri<,' under white canvas stood out for the lino of tlie open sea. We swept across tiie roadstead towards tlie town, trailing our grapnel as it were a liooked lisii, a bare liundred fee't above the water. Faces stared u]) at us from the siiips' decks. Tlie crew of one lowered a boat to pursue ; wo were half a mile away before it touched the water. Should wo clear the town ? At JJylield's orders we stripped otT our overcoats and stood ready to lighten ship : but seeing that the deflected wind in the estuary was carrying us towards the suburbs and the harbour's mouth, he changed his mind. "It is devil or deep sea," ho announced. " We will try the grapnel. Look to it, Ducie, while I take the valve." lie pressed a clasp-knife into my hand. " Cut, if I give the word." We descended a few feet. Wo were skimming the ridge. The grapnel touclied, and in the time it takes you to wink, had ploughed through a kitchen garden, uprooting a regi- ment of currant hushes ; had leaped clear, and was caught in the eaves of a wooden ou 'louse, fetching us up with a dislocating shock. I heard a rending noise and picked myself up in time to see the building colhi])se like a house of cards and a pair of demented pigs emerge from the ruins and plunge across the garden beds. And with that I was pitched off my feet again as the hook caught in an iron che^mux-de-frise, and held fast. " Hold tight ! " shouted Byfield, as the car luv^hed and struggled, careening desperately. "Don't c. man' What the devil ! " Our rope had tautened over the coping of a high stone wall ; and the straining Lunardi—a very large and hand- El I ■ i M 388 some blossom, bend gravelled ST. IVES ing on a very thin stalk-overhung the yard ; and lo ! from the centre of it stared 13,7 '""'''"'"^t: 'he faces of a squad red-coats up at of British form brought my knife d at abhorred own upon the ropt. In uni- for a second wind I struck in : ^^ ^"^ " ^^''' fy^^^'^> yo» open the wrong valve We driff n. I say 'soused," for I confess that the shock belied the promise of our easy descent Ti.n r ^-l it also drove beforeihe w nd A . T^f' ^'''^'^ '' ^"* „4!^- -^ ,-, "^^"^'^ ''"G wind. And as it dmo-ffed tliP n..v hoop, th„ „etti„g-„ay, dug their uail^iuto tlfe oiM silk n THE INCOMPLETK Ai-UOXAUTB ?> 389 In its new element the balloon became inspired with a sudden infernal malice. It sank like a pillow if we tried to climb it : it rolled us over in the brine ; it allowed us no moment for a backward glance. I spied a small cutter- rigged craft tacking towards us, a mile and more to leeward, and wondered if the captain of the brig had left our rescue to it. He had not. I heard a shout behind us; a rattle of oars as the bowmen shipped them ; and a liaiid gripped my collar. So one by one we Avere plucked— uncommon specimens ! — from the deep; rescued from what Mr. Sheepshanks, a minute later, as he sat down on a thwart and wiped his spectacles, justly termed " a predicament, sir, as disconcerting as any my experience supplies." \i )| CHAPTER XXXIV CAPTAIN COLENSO" "o'^sZlZLlr '" '" ""'" '"^ -""oon.sir." the and not to be lifted At ol ,'„ T "'""'^ """""'S^i became ,„a„..geHblo ; a,„, Ting ropTu?"''*"*^ "■"' astern, the crew fell to their oars. " ""S"''"" My teeth were chatterino- 'ri,'„ 'laU taken time, and uZ. ^'T^ZT""' "' ^"'""S-^ -me to cover the distance betweent , "7''.^"'"»able ay hove-to, her maintopsail abaek i ^'l'* "^ '^' drawing. ^ ''"acK and her head-sails " *'««'s like towing a whalo ,!,■ " n me panted. ' ^"' "« oarsman behind tiiSnVfrof tr-rrrr ™^ *"^ '— tbe voice English, of a sort utl f! ° T ""'' ^'^"'-"d "« ! recognised for Englisr The f n ' "° P""^™ ">at I peas, as like as the two droveff ^ ''""' "' '*^ ^ '»■» "captain colenso" 301 repeated their elders' features and build ; the gaunt frame, the long, serious face, the swarthy complexion and medi- tative eye— in sliort, Don Quixote of la Mancha at various stages of growth. Men and lads, I remarked, wore silver earrings. I was speculating on this likeness when we shipped oars and fell alongside the brig's ladder. At the head of it my hand was taken, and I was helped on deck with cere- mony by a tall man in loose blue jacket and duck trousers : an old man, bent and frail ; by his air of dignity tlie master of the vessel, and by his features as clearly the patriarch of the family. He lifted his cap and addressed us with a fine but (as I now recall it) somewhat tired courtesy. ' ' An awk ward adveutu re, gentlemen. " We thanked him in proper form. " I am pleased to have been of service. The pilot-cutter yonder could hardly have fetched you in less than twenty minutes. I have signalled her alongside, and she will con- vey you back to P'almouth ; none the worse, I hope, for your wetting." "A convenience," said I, ''of which my friends will gladly avail themselves. For my part I do not propose to return." He paused, weighing my words ; obviously puzzled, but politely anxious to understand. His eyes were grey and honest, even childishly honest, but dulled about the rim of the iris and a trifle vacant, as though the world with its train of affairs had passed beyond his active concern. I keep my own eyes about me when I travel and have sur- prised just such a look, before now, behind the spectacles of very old men who sit by the roadside and break stones for a living. " I fear, sir, that I do not take you precisely." 392 ST. IVES 11 11 'mltVLf1;a%T "" "«'*/'"' J"^' ™"^- She "le anu under private commission." "A privateer ?" " You may oall it tliat." "Colenso." ter'j^T ''^■"•'''' "''"- "Your notes? The salt wa- stoZr."™'""'" '"' "'"'" » -"'^^ '» -Mity of the '•' fW ''° \,"' r'" "'" """M^oe of your stomach ' " ..ied hvTsm:;; 'h,""?;'""''^ "" "»"™™" ""-compa. -ur,;:t' h7so:ti„;;„t't?^^- ^^'-"»^' ^ p--e, not'so^rMrTfr';"' 'rr^" "■^- '"^'-v wi„ o'v, I'". 1 ..all return to them. Of their grudged 'CAPTAIN COLENSO" 393 His pension I have eighteen pence in my pocket. Bnt I pro- pose to travel with Sheepshanks, and raise the wind by showing his tricks. He shall toss the caber from Land's End to Forthside, cheered by the plaudits of the interven- ing taverns and furthered by their bounty." *' A progress which we must try to expedite, if only out of regard for Mrs. Sheepshanks." I turned to Captain Colenso again. " Well, sir, will you accept me for your passenger ? " "1 doubt that you are joking, sir." " And I swear to you that I am not." He hesitated ; tottered to the companion, and called down, " Susannah ! Susannah ! a moment on deck, if you please. One of these gentlemen wishes to ship as passen- ger." A dark-browed woman of middle age thrust her head above the ladder aid eyed me. Even so might a ruminat- ing cow gaze over her hedge upon some posting wayfarer. " What's he dressed in ?" she demanded abruptly. "Madani, it was intended for a ball suit." " You will do no dancing here, young man." "My dear lady, I accept tiuit and every condition you may impose. Whatever the discipline of the ship " She cut me short. " Have you told him, father ? " " Why, no. You see, sir, I ought to tell you that this is not an ordinary voyage. " " Nor for that matter is mine." "You will be exposed to risks," " In a privateer that goes without saying." "The risk of capture." '^'^ mtundly ; though a bravo captain will not dwell on it." And I bowed. " But I do dwell on it," he answered earnestly, a red 394 •^•T. IVES i "sa, ooL,:'/o",:,2 n. 's ";t,r ^"-^'^ -""'=•" do le?' \l'" r^, Tl !"•?"■''""■ I <^»™ot i„ conscience ".damn your conscience!" tliouirlit T m„ .. i. ns ng n contcmnf f„„ n ■ , , , ""s"t -1, my stomach fainA^eanrpXtsr h™, "we fall in ,vith a Frencliman „,'■ l„f ^"'^ an Amoncan ; that is o,„. object eh'" " "'''''°''~ J,P """' "" ^"''™»''- That is om- object, to be TuTt^T ' ™™"' "' ^'™ '■* «<""' "«™'">t of ourselves ■I ut, tut, man-an ex-pacl(et captain ' " I pulled up in sheer wonder at the lunacy of our disnnt. and the side he was forcing me to take' hTc^^ ' I harangmng a grey-headed veteran on his own qua er^j^^ck «d exhortmg him to valour I In a flash I saw myself be fooled tr,cked into playing the patronising amate^ om And Captam Colenso, who aimed but to be rid of me was ^ nglnng ,n his sleeve, no doubt. In a minute ev^n teTo bl ; "T'!? ?'°' "'^ ^'''- ^O"' I <'° "oral ; men but t f^ "\' " """^ "^ disciplinary for most men, but it turns me obstinate. peSctit ^tZT f T-\ T'' ^^^^^"^'^^^^ ^"^ "^"-th to nia H' J ?^ ^'^"'^^ ^^^ '^''^''^ ^'^"^ ^^ to Susan- nah and back was eloquent of senile indecision. 1 cannot explain to you, sir. The consequences-I lie broke off and appealed to me. I would rather jou did press'"?' ' "^'^'^ ''''''' • ' --^ ^^^ y-^ - 'n^t t "But I do press it," I answered, stubborn as a mule. (( CAPTAIN COLENSO 5» 395 be *' I tell you that I am ready to accept all risks. But if you want me to return with my friends in the cutter, you must summon your crew to pitch me down the ladder. And there's the end on't." *' Dear, dear ! Tell me at least, sir, that you are an Unmarried man." " Up to now I have that misfortune. I aimed a bow at Mistress Susannah ; but that lady had turned her broad shoulders and it missed fire. Wliich reminds me/' I continued, " to ask for the favour of pen, ink and paper. I wish to send a letter ashore to the mail." She invited me to follow her ; and I descended to the main cabin, a spick-and-span apartment, where we sur- prised two passably good-looking damsels at their house- work, the one polishing a mahogany swing-table, the other a brass door-handle. They picked up their cloths, dropped me a curtsey apiece, and disappeared at a word from Susannah, who bade me be seated at the swing-table and set writing materials before me. The room was lit by a broad stern window, and lined along two of its sides with mahogany doors leading, as I supposed, to sleeping cabins ; the panels — not to speak of the brass handles and finger-plates — shining so that a man might have seen his face in them to shave by. ''But why all these women on board a privateer ? " thought I, as I tried a quill on my thumb-nail and embarked upon my first love-letter. I' 'i *' Dearest : " This line with my devotion to tell you that the balloon has descended •afely, and your Anne finds himself on board " " By the way. Miss Susannah, what is the name of this ship?" "She is called the Lady Nepean; and I am a married woman and the mother of six." I 396 ST. IVES lis ' ' ^^:;i felicitate y„„, „,,,„.„ J ,„^^^^ _^__^ ^^^___^^^ ^^^ •■ You believe ? " ""''"^'"■^«"'- ' Relieve." She iioc'ded <' v«,.„ you'JI go buck;" "^ "^'"' '^ ^°"'JJ take my advice, escZif r/' f ''"';^'«^-^^^^ «» a sudden impulse - T escaped French prisoner.- And wifl, fi . u ^ ^"^ «» n^y cap over the mills (as thev slvf , ' % ^"^^ ^'"''"^ -ttee, and we regarded e ^01 r ""' ^' "^ *''« contmned, still with my eves on ). . "^ ^'"^^^^ '" J money, but minus my heit J \ ''"'^ " ''^^' of daughter of Britain who has 't inl '"T '^'' '^ '^' ^^'^ what have you to say ?'> '^ ^^'' ^^^i^^"^- And now . "Ah, well! "she mused "tb« t ^. «Pea^ in enigmas. ^Ic^,;*-;:^^:^^^ America, .,;„:^VCe:: n^:r::r^"\^" *^^ ^^i-d St^es Of Though you have news, dear osf f "''' '° ^*''^'' "">« *« France -hile. Yet and though ;ou hi e no °""*' '""" ^'^-'' '"e for a Anne,' write it and con.',° ,'"; ^ TW" ^"'^^ ^"«" ' ' '«- /ou^ Mr Romaine, who in turn may find an. "' "'' ""' ^""^^^^ ^t to to Paris, Rue du Fouarre le' UsloZX''' ''' '' «-«^^Ied through Juplle, to be called for by the corpor "l , ""''''''''^ '' *^« Widow She Will remember ; and in truthama: '''^'.^'f^' ^-r ' vin blanc.' >t deserves remembrance as 7ngrr\m" 1"" ^^"^^^^ *° P^-«e Should a youth of the name of RowL ^^ *'' '"^^^^ «^ ^'•anee. •you may trust his fidelity abso uter m ""■"'"* '"™«elf before you, -ce the boat waits to take th I '^,'; C"" ^'^ ''''' ^* ^"- And sj «cnbe myself-untii I come to oLZ TT "^ ^^'"^^' «°<3 «ub. i»er^mo«m ""^^"^ ^^^» a«d afterwards to eternity- AjTNfl. " (( my CAPTAIN COLENSO 1) 897 r had, m fact, a second reason for abbreviating this letter and seahng it in a liurry. The movements of the bri^ thougli shght, wore perceptible, and in the close air of tl^ main cabin my head already began to swim. I hastened on deck in time to shake hands witli my companions and confide the letter to Byfield with instructions for postin- It. - And if your share in our adventures should come into pubhc question," said I, -you must apply to a Major Chevenix, now quartered in Edinburgh Castle, who has a fair inkling of the fucts, and as a man of honour vvil not decline to assist you. You have Dalmahoy, too to back your assertion that you knew me only as Mr Ducie Upon Dalmahoy I pressed a note for his and Mr. bheepshanks' travelling exj)enses. ''My dear fel low," he protested, "I couldn't dream~ii yon are sure It won t mconvenieuce . . . merely as a loan . . and deuced handsome of you, I will say." He kept the cutter waiting while he drew up an I. 0. U. in which I figured as Bursar and Almoner {hoHoris causa) to the feenatus Academicus of Cramond-on-Almond. Mr Sheep- shanks meanwhile shook hand with me impressively. " It has been a memorable experience, sir. I shall have much to tell my wife on my return." It occurred to me as probable that the lady would have even more to say to him. lie stepped into the cut- ter and, as they pushed off, was hilariously bonneted by Mr. Dalmahoy, by way of parting salute. -Starboard after braces !" Captain Colenso called to his crew. The yards were trimmed and the Lady Xepean slowly gath- ered way, while I stood by the bulwarks gazing after my friends and attempting to persuade myself that the fresh air was doing me good. Captt 1 Colenso perceived my uneasiness and advised me to seek my berth and lie down ; and on my replying ^1 if 398 ST. IVES '! »■"' in that seclt,si„Vi ™; 'it ,^ ,""" "" '"""'<''"'".; Nor at the end oM rT ■ "'"' " '''*"»"' '™e- covered appeti T, ZS'll TT " """""^ - tickled my palate ivifl MI ^ ""' *'P ""raed me, -pectf,,, sXZ; '^^ - '»;;cW their caps with kind, but taciturn to a d tree bevf iT r ^''t''^"'''^ mystery hung and deepened abo.TM ''^ ^ '°« »' f ;-»«, and I crept abo the , k ^" !"?■ "" ^""^ ilream, entangling mvself ,„ ; ■ ? continuous evil gin with, there were ivi f '"i"'^'''"^ "'dories. Tobe- to be rc^ucii ,r: ,rf ::,:t" "■; ''"'" •■ " ■""""<■■ ^^ or .on.. Wives or grandX^^L'^r 'TSi; c' ,*"'^'''"" tlie men-twenty-throe in ,11 « ? Colenso. Of Colonso were caL p'n "„ ' 1' t ?V'f' ""' "'■'""l landsmen by their bilio^f.i^ '. ™' "' """" convicted raents ; men fre , f™ ' tl!"" ""'r''™" ""h^dy move- -■"> no ruddy im Xf" .d^.'^t 'th^ "'"' ^J"'' ^^' Twice every dav nnJ fi *"® ^P^" air. binary compl/'^td^^radtrt^t "'""''""■ religions service which it would C,^^ ? P°°P '<"• " '■c. It began decorously Z^JImT '° °"" ''™- tonof some portion of hXwhk ^""™"°« ""P'^i" But by-and-bve fand TL n .^^ "^""''"n Colenso. listeners kindkd " .-» i^ "', *" """"e office) his Are of " Amens " Thrn'^ ."". l'™ ''''"' " =''i™i3hing .they broke into crielo ;,r. '^ ''«™' '<""' «'"-y! agcment ; they ll^l^j tr" t'^i^ftrt 7 T' '""'■'^ pounder swivel) • and fh«n o i ^f "^ ^^ ^^"g nine- - .oni-s e.eii;n-r:::„r ™reL^-r.si: "captain colenso" 399 others sobbed, exhorted, even leaped in the air. " S tronger, brother!!! 'Tis working, 'Lis working!!! deliv- erance ! ! ! streams of redemption ! " For ten minutes vor a quarter of an hour maybe, tlie ship was a Babel, u Hodhim. And tiien the tumult would die down as sud- denly as it luid arisen, and, dismissed bv the old man, the crew, witii faces once more inscrutable , it twitching with spent emotion, scattered to their usual tasks. Five minutes after these singular outbreaks it was diffi- cult to believe in them. Captain Colenso paced the quar- ter-deck once more with his customary shuffle, his hands beneath his coat-tails, his eyes conning the ship with their usual air of mild abstraction. Now and again he paused to instruct one of his incapables in the trimming of a brace, or to correct the tie of a knot. He never scolded ; seldom lifted his voice. By his manner of speech and the ease of Ins authority he and his family might have belonged to separate ranks of life. Yet I seemed to detect method in their obedience. The veriest fumbler went about his work with a concentrated gravity of bearing as if he fulfilled a remoter purpose, and understood it while he tied his knots into "grannies" and generally mismanaged the job in hand. Towards the middle of our second week, we fell in with a storm— a rotatory affair, and soon over by reason that we struck the outer fringe of it— but to a landsman sufficiently daunting while it lasted. Late in the afternoon I thrust my head up for a look around. We were weltering along in horrible forty-foot seas, over which our bulwarks tilted at times until from the companion hatchway, I stared plumb into the grey sliding chasms, and felt like a fly on the wall. The Lady Nepean hurled her old timbers along under close-reefed maintopsail and a raff of a fore- sail only. The captain had housed top-gallant masts and h 400 ST. IVB8 wore desolate b„ f^ ' m 'T """''-"^'^''"A docks. Ii.e^, poop: the mJJZ"ITZ T ''°'"""""- "■« tlio H,,okcs jiluckilv, but Wit, ™°"°-''"'l'"l "lid gn|,,,i„„ """•«!. In. e,o,, »■• ,■! , ' ",'';f' r "''''^'' '"'"'''"' '■'" "" 'I'e i„fcn,al sc-l 1 ^'^ """""' '"" '"""I -d "il^kinH, to,ve , Zw fcl'l ''™'' '""' '" ««"-'"'»'» ->" »"■• l.o,„n, I took ocJl-onT," r ""'''^™'° '"«™ ^';;'y A>.««'. bcbavioTr <=<""Pl">.ent him „,. tbo " Ay," said be, abstractedly- "ihonM •. good weatbor of it ! " ^ ' "'" fi"' """'e pretty dZrT'' "' ""^ "^^ - -'-' 3-o„ would call real sh.r that carries n,y honour" " rl' """ ""' '■■"'^ «'« ' over this, be cba„ied b,° t™. " f o'u?,,"" '""^'» P"-'^ arra,^l'' I""""'' ^■"••^'y demands it s n " ■■ "'n'T''" ariant landsman could hire r„„ •, V , ' '• Only an -aft with any idea of'pH • e ™ "".''t^^/ " '-''0™/o,d "leory, and I clung to it ' """ ^'" ""^ <>nh ;;We shall not need to test her." care -:"ish;r„7t"hr"Tbf " •'" ' ""' °^-™« 'be l*ethedoor-platefinbe»Ze:Sr' "^'' ""' »'™- 'captain colenso »> 401 Why as to that," lie answered evasively, "I've had to e now. The last voyage I couinuuulod her—it was bef just after the war broke out with America— wo fell in with a schooner olf the Banks ; we were outward bound for llaU ifux. She carried twelve nine-pounder earronades and two long nines, besides a big fellow on a traverse ; and wo had tlie guns you see— eigiit nine-i)ounder8 and one chaser oi the same calibre— 2)ost-otlice guns, we call them. But we beat her olf after two hours of it." "And saved the mails ?" He rose abrui)tly (we had seated ourselves on a couple of hen-coops under the break of the poop). '* You will ex- cuse me. 1 have an order to give" ; and he hurried up the steps to the quarter-deck. It must have been ten days after this that he stopped me in one of my eternal listless promenades and invited mo to sit beside him again. " I wish to take your opinion, Mr. Ducie. You have not, I believe, found salvation ? You are not one of us as I may say ? " ' '* Meaning by ' us ' ? " " I and mine, sir, are unworthy followers of the Word as preached by John Wesley." " Why no, that is not my religion." " But you are a gentleman ?" I bowed. '' And on a point of honour-do you think, sir, that as a servant of the King one should obey his earthly master even to doing what conscience forbids ? " " That might depend " " But on a point of honour, sir ? Suppose that you had pledged your private word, in a just, nay, a generous bar- gain, and were commanded to break it. Is there anythin^y could override that ? " ^ o I thought of my poor old French colonel and his broken 402 ST. IVES ill, AfeL-.^H 'I am not a ffentlem-.n «;,. r i •] "v '"s pocket. gfitloman would look at t» V""'""''",'"""' '"" » eldest son, a„J acting mate tft h i ' t '", ^°'"'^°' '"^ door with news of a ^luT fl '"''""" '"^'' '" "' "« two'^iies dis't,!: llTt Sir",'" r^™"' - A' ->^ that she i,oistedBrit-sheVo;" ""' *" "'"'"^-I Colons':' „"' s:;:,;;::^,' "■ ^-S'^n^/'Captain cheeks, nsnally t wld [ °T ''' S'^^^' ^is age, we..e i„,sLd ^^^ !'Z'ZL:;:^Z/TT '° ?" suppressed excitement i„ all hi crew V ""^ " =tTh:r:t^-rd s^^^^^^^^^^ •-, ..deed „, j-trr - ix::L"r:; "captain colenso" 403 cir- took no single step to clear the Lachj Kepean for ac- tion or put his men in figliting trim. The most of them were gathered about the fore-hatch to the total neglect of their guns, vvliich they had been cleaning assiduously all tiie morning. On we stood without shifting our course by a point, and were within range when the schooner ran u^) the Stars-and-Stripes and plumped a round shot ahead of us by way of hint. I stared at Captain Colenso. Could he mean to surren- der without one blow ? He had exchanged his glass f(,r a speaking-trumpet, and waited, fumbling with it, his fate twitching painfully. A cold dishonouring suspicion gripj)cd me. The man was here to betray his Hag. I glanced aloft; the British ensign flew at the peak. And as 1 turned my head I felt rather than saw the flash, heard tlie shattering din as the puzzled American luffed up and let fly across our bows with a raking broadside. Doubtless she, too, took note of our defiant ensign and leaped at the nearest guess, that we meant to run her aboard. Now, whether my glance awoke Captain Colenso, or this was left to the all but simultaneous voice of the guns, 1 know not. But as their smoke rolled between us I saw him drop his trumpet and run with a crazed face to the taffrail, where the hallyards led. The traitor had forgot- ten to haul down his flag ! It was too late. While he fumbled with the hallyards, a storm of musketry burst and swept the quarter-deck. He flung up both hands, spun round upon his heel, and pitched backwards at the helmsman's feet, and the loosened ensign dropped slowly and fell across him, as if to cover his shame. Instantly the firing ceased. I stood there between com- passion and disgust, willing yet loathing to touch the pitiful corpse, when a woman — Susannah — ran screaming 404 ST. IVES omwied along ti.e plank h to 0/!^' "' "'" ''"S- It here to an o.ld)y-sl, ,j,oj mJ r 1, l",*""' ""J B''"^' thought it re,na,-kabJy liL L "''=''/<' "■ I» «hai,c. I became aware that .omo on L""'' °' ''''■■''■■"l- And X looted up to find a leanTnd •!„ ''"""""S '» "«'. ""d «hoard and .tandingt'tX tl^dtr^""' ^"^™''" -"- Are you anywise Jiard of he-mncr ., I ™o ,„„ «.at this iiok.tr4h rs" • ^' "-' „ The rV't' "" ""' '"^P-'i-g il ilr'" 1 thought a:L,crD'eid: LvV'w ,','"; •:?'" y™"-? dead, though I'd have entvcd t'.,. ,' ^""^ ''^'*'"- *% "^^^^y> brought the rr,r7., at ™d Co,nmodor? Eodl-f^o ft,^^""' "»'° "'^^^ ™te,-s, »d. by all accounts. Helt "T"^ """' «'""-' w' *t post „,ig„ ,„„ jtid i'g tri^^rr ^■"' Uarn »«, but yoa have fem.,l„. all-flred packet ? ■ndeed there were three pofo-e":.'?'',"" 'r' '" P"'' ci-oonmgover the dead captain T '"''"« """' ™d -they had no arn.s to ZTLJ" T"'"'' -"■'eudercd the waist, „„der g„ard 1 ""T"'"' ^''o oollected in lay senseless on deck ad too, I °' ^''"■'^«"^- "'- splinter wounds; for , '° "™f "''"■'' "'''^«''"« f'"". lower by a foot » two t ...fT'''' ''" '""^"''-^^ '-in.. ^^^--^ had done tolei "t o,! T'V'f^ °' "- ^-'4 wounds in our hull might bT °"''' "'""«'"- the the *r«:;':',;:Z"!'r^- ^'f-us Q. Socco.be, of "Well, then, CapuinSeecon,be, I am a passenger on aw a trickle le flag. It I, and grew In sliupe I d. And I me, and ricau come Or must 1 yonder? 3tter stay minutes" 5 waters, liole U\. e. And packet ? J" For 'o\v and endered 'cted iu 5- One g from being 'er the ibe, of rer on ** CAPTAIN COLENSO" 495 board this ship and know neither her business here nor why slie has behaved in a fashion that makes me bh.sh ^.^:J^'^' '' '''' ''''' ' ^-- --^ — to - 0, come now ! You're trying it on. It's a yard-arm matter and I don't blame you, to be sure. Cap'n sank the " There were none to sink, I believe." He conned me curiously. " You don't look like a Britisher, either." "I trust not. I am the Viscount Anne de Keroiial de bt. Ives, escaped from a British war-prison." , " ^"?'' !f' l^"" '^ ^^^" 1»'°^« it. We'll get to the bot- tom of this. He faced about and called, - Who's the first officer of this brig ? " Reuben Colenso was allowed to step forward. Blood from a scalp-wound had run and caked on his right cheek, but he st<3pped squarely enough. ^^ -Bring him below," Captain Seccombe commanded. And you, Mr. What's-your-name, lead the way. It's one or the other of us will get the hang of this affair." He seated himself at the head of the table in the main cabin^ and spat ceremoniously on the floor. "Now, sir, you are, or were, first officer of this brig ? " The prisoner, standing between his two guards, gripped his stocking-cap nervously. - Will you please to tell me. sir, if my father is killed ? " ''Seth, my lad, I want room." One of the guards, a strappmg youngster, stepped and flung open a pane of the stem window. Captain Seccombe spat out of it with non- chalant dexterity before answering : " I guess he is. Brig's name ? " " The Lady Nepean," " Mail packet ? " 406 ST. IVES h'V i " ^'6s, sir— leastways - maj save yo„ some sunerfl o ,. "'"/"■'I-'™, aud it ■n A„g„st i,.,t ^^ t e z",^ v^'"*'' " ' ''" 3-ou tl.at Colenso, „,u,vard bound fo.tw'"""' '"'"'""' '^''r""" pnvatee,-, otf tl,e Great ]! .If v\""" "'" •'«'^'«»<^^', her off ,.fter t.o UoZ t^l ""t;*""'""'".!, and bea her?" "Sl't'-'g- iou were ou board of _" I ;-'Kled the stern gnn." Vfciy good ' l^ha i. J f fell in with Com„,o7or tZi ''"'"^ f" °" "'" Ba.>ks, "■'gate P„,,v„,,, and surrent^r'f' f- "'" ^""«' «'"'» ;; We sank the mails." '" '"" "«''t away." hei'rtld Veit S"yo,f :i:,;'';;,':r 'f ^''''"'' "-' "- horn son of freedom." Can ■ , v ^'"■h«™ice of „ true- omtorical roll. .< h, ^^'P™ ' '"==«ombo's voice took an 3'our fr,ay. He fed yo^, ! -"'f ' >'"' "■"■■<= bleeding from -' -ffor ,V0„ t Td el'^nf^^""''^ he'woZ 'Vhat did be promise .'-!b™ t s , '"'■•'' "■"'"• ^'-J- <«'>' and pas.,engers back tl P , /°'"' *'"""• "■"• h^ on their swcari.g „ncn the ,• "^^;"' " ""'"■ »>"' «!"!' -'a™ to Boston'h S,r XTf "T" """ ="» «"°"W oan prisoners from Enghnd V ^"f ""'"'"^'- »' A»'eri. "Ponthe01dandNewSmenH°"'' '""r ^»™^ '» "'at ana «,e Z,,, ,,,^^„,, sated :m;r'"^^T' ™"^'°"'"^'^ " '".'"'^ fr™' the wolf's iaws witf "" ""'W '*« «er .nside of her. And CIaZ '"'«'" American offi. nient receive this noble '„ ff ^°"'' ''''^-•''""ned govern- -nld have brongh 'a w:r''to"tr ' , 'V ™^' «''' '"" CAPTAIN COLENSO" 407 nso, junior, '"■ni, and it '11 you that et, Cuptuin Hitchcock, 1. and beat 11 board of >lie Banks, ited States away." that lion- 3f a true- e took an "^^^g from be would e. Kay, and his kvn sliip, le should -' Ameri. to that 1 jointly; I'ld like can offi- govern- ir, that iv-dowu )r of a §h seas fiyrmi- dons went back on tlieir captain's oatli, and kept the brig ; and the American officer came home empty-hantlod. You r father was told to resume his duties, immortal souls beiiK' cheap in a country whei-e they press seamen's bodies. And now, Mister First Officer Colenso, perhaps you'll explain how he had the impudence to come within two hundred miles of a coast where his name smelt worse than vermin." " He was coming back, sir." " Hey ? " " Back to Boston, sir. You see, Cap'n, father wasn't a rich man, but he had saved a trifle. He didn't go back to the service though told that he might. It preyed on his mmd. We was all very fond of father, being all one fam- ily, as you might say, though some of us had wives and families, and some were over to Redruth to the mines " "Stick to the point." "But this is the point, Cap'n. He was coming back, you see. The Lady Nepean wasn't fit for much after the handling she'd had. She was going for twelve hundred pounds. The Post Office didn't look for more. We got her for eleven hundred with the guns, and the repairs may have cost a hundred and fifty ; but you'll find the account books in the cupboard there. Father had a matter of five hundred laid by and a little over." Captain Seccombe removed his legs from tho cabin-table, tilted his chair forward, and half rose in his seat "You houglit her?" "That's what I'm telling you, sir; though father'd have put it much clearer. You see, he laid it before the Lord ; and then he laid it before all of us. It preyed on his mind. My sister Susannah stood up and she said, * I reckon I'm i;he most respectably married of all of you, having a farm of my own ; but we can sell up, and all the world's a home to them that fears the Lord. We can't 408 ST. IVES stock np with American prisoners, bnt we can r«-o/e; but whether when the war ended they returned to England or took oath as American citizens, I liave not learnt. I was luckier. The Commodore allowed Captain Seccombe to detain me while the French consul made inquiry into my story; and during the two months which the consul thought fit to take over it, I was a guest in the captain's house. And here, I made my bow to Miss Amelia Sec- combe, an accomplished young lady, " who," said her dot- ing father, "has acquired a considerable proficiency in French and will be glad to swop ideas with you in that language." Miss Seccombe and I did not hold our com- munications in French ; and, observing his disposition to substitute the warmer language of the glances, i took the bull by the horns, told her my secret and rhapsodised on Flora. Consequently no Nausicaa figures in this Odyssey of mine. Nay, the excellent girl flung herself into my cause, and bombarded her father and the consular office, with such effect that on February 2, 1814, I waved farewell to her from the deck of the barque Shawmui, bound from Boston to Bordeaux. : CHAPTER XXXV IN PARIS—ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD On the lOth of Marcli at sunset the Shatvmut passed the Pointe de Grave fort and entered the moutli of tlie Gironde, and at eleven o'clock next morning dropped anchor a little below Blaye, under the guns of the Regulus, 74. We were just in time, a British fleet being daily ex- pected there to co-operate with the Due d'Angouleme and Count Lynch, who was then preparing to pull the tricolor from his shoulder and betray Bordeaux to Btresford, or, if you prefer it, to the Bourbon. News of his purpose had already travelled down to Blaye, and therefore no sooner were my feet once more on the soil of my beloved France, than I turned them towards Libourne, or rather, Fronsac, and the morning after my arrival there, started for the capital. But so desperately were the joints of travel dislocated, (the war having deplenished the country alike of cattle and able-bodied drivers) and so frequent were the breakdowns by the way, that I might as expeditiously have trudged It. It cost me fifteen good days to reach Orleans, and at Etampes (which I reached on the morning of the 30th), the driver of the tottering diligence flatly declined to pro- ceed. The Cossacks and Prussians were at the gates of Paris. "Last night we could see the fires of their bivouacs. If Alonsieur listens he can hear the firing." ,The Empress had fled from the Tuileries. Whither ? The 410 IN PARIS— ALAIN PLATS HIS LAST CARD 411 driver, the aubcrgiste, the disinterested crowd, shrugged their shoulders. "To Rfimbouiller, probably." God knew what was liappening or what would happen. The Em- peror was at Troyes, or at Sens, or else as near as Fontaine- bleau, nobody knew for certain which, lint the fugitives from Paris had been pouring in for days, and not a cart or four-footed beast was to be hired for love or money, though I hunted Etampes for hours. At length, and at nightfall, I ran against a bow-kneed grey mare and a cabriolet de place, which by its label be- longed to Paris ; the pair wandering the street under what It would be flattery to call the guidance of an eminently drunken driver. I boarded him ; he dissolved at once into maudlin tears and prolixity. It appeared that on the 29th he had brought over a bourgeois family from the capital and had spent the last three days in perambulating Etampes, and the past three nights in crapulous slumber within his vehicle. Here was my chance, and I demanded to know if for a price he would drive me back with him to Paris. He declared, still weeping, that he was fit for any thing. 'Tor ipy part, I am ready to die, and Monsieur knows that we shall never reach." "Still anything is better than Etampes." For some inscrutable reason this struck him as exces- sively comic. He assured me that I was a brave fellow, and bade me jump up at once. Within five minutes we were jolting towards Paris. Our progress was all but inappre- ciable, for the grey mare had come to the end of her powers, and her master's monologue kept pace with hers His anecdotes were all of the past three days. The iron of Etampes apparently had entered his soul and efifaced all memory of his antecedent career. Of the war, of any recent public events, he could tell me nothing. I had half expected-supposing the Emperor to be near 413 ST. IVES Fontainebleau—to happen on his vedettes, but we had the road to ourselves, and reached Longjumean a little before daybreak without having encountered a living creature Here we knocked up the propnetor of a cabaret, who assured us, between yawns, that we were going to our doom • and after baiting the grey and dosing ourselves with execra' ble brandy, pushed forward again. As the sky grew pale about us, I had my ears alert for the sound of artillery But Pans kept silence. We passed Sceaux, and arrivod at length at Montrouge and the barrier. It was open- abandoned— not a sentry, not a douanicr visible. "Where will Monsieur be pleased to descend?'^ my driver enquired, and added with an effort of memory, that he had a wife and two adorable children on a top floor in the Rue du Mont Parnasse, and stabled his mare handy by. I paid, and watched him from the deserted pavement as he drove away. A small child came running from a doorway behind me, and blundered against my legs I caiight him by the collar and demanded what had happened to Paris. - That I do not know,- said the child, "but mamma is dressing herself to take me to the Review Tenez," he pointed, and at the head of the long street I saw advancing the front rank of a blue-coated regiment of Prussians, marching across Paris to take up position on the Orleans road. The murder vas out. I had entered Paris from the south just m time, if I wished, to witness the entry of His Majesty the Emperor Alexandre from the north. Soon I found myself one of a crowd converging towards the bridges, to scatter northward along the line of His Maj- esty's progress, from the Barri^re de Pontin to the Champs Elys^es, where the grand review was to be held. I chose this for my objective, and making my way along the Quays, found myself shortly before ten o'clock in the IN PARIS— ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CAUD 413 Place de la Concorde, where a singular little scene brought nie to a halt. About a score of young men— aristocrats by their dress and carriage— were gathered about the centre of the square. Each wore a white scarf and the Bourbon cockade in his hat ; and their leader, a weedy youth with hay- coloured hair, had drawn a paper from his pocket, and was declaiming its contents at the top of a voice by several si.es too big for him : — " For Paris is reserved the privilege, under circumstances now existing, to accelerate the dawn of Universal Peace. Her suffrage is awaited with the interest whicli so im- mense a result naturally inspires." Et cetira. Later on, I possessed myself of a copy of the Prince of Schwarzenberg's proclamation, and identi- fied the wooden rhetoric at once. " Parisians ! you have the example of Bordeaux before you*' ... Ay, by the Lord, they had— right under their eyes ! The hay-coloured youth wound up his read- ing with a " Vive le roi! " and his band of walking-gentle- men took up the shout. The crowd looked on impassive ; one or two edged away ; and a grey-haired, soldierly horse- man (whom I recognised for the Due de Choiseul Praslin) passing in full tenure of Colonel of the National Guard, reined up, and addressed the young men in a few words of grave rebuke. Two or three answered by snapping their fingers, and repeating their '' Vive le roi" with a kind of embarrassed defiance. But their performance, be- fore so chilling an audience, was falling sadly flat when a dozen or more of young royalist bloods came riding up to reanimate it— among them M. Louis de Chateaubriand, M. Talleyrand's brother, Archambaut de Perigord, the scoundrelly Marquis de Maubreuil— yes, and my cousin, the Vicomte de Keroual de Saint Ives. r 414 ST. IVES Iho ,,.. ..ccn,.y, U,o c.vn.cal ,n,d „„ke,I impudence of it toolt mc 1,I.-d, I saw that he lt>d ollowed l,e declasse Maubreuil's example and decorated th brutes tad with a Cross or the Legion of Honour II at brought my teeth together, and I stood my ground. V,m lero,!" " n,c„l Ic: Ilo,u-io,.s ! " "A ha.le wttebT ^.'""■7" '""' "'■""«'" " "-kct tu lo witbm sards and cockades, and the gallant horseman be- frowd A*^ ?';""' ''?" "'™' "'""■ "'« ""'-esponsive ciowd Ala,u held one of the badges at arm's length as he His arm with the riding-switch and laced Imndkorchiet went up as though he had been stung. Bef ,re it could aiounl l,m understanding nothing, but none the loss a estiou 1 , ,™ ""' ""'• ■ " ^ ''<""•™^^'' '"to ""> ■•escue, and Alain's reply, that.'' ' -^ ' '"■''°'' *" "=''»»<' "'« time for I took this for a splutter of hatred, and even found it laughable as I made n,y escape good. At the same til " ''"■- aieuutof numour for gaping at IN PARIS-ALAIN PLAYS IIIS LAST CARD 415 the review, unci I tunie.l buck u.ul rocrosscl t\o river to seek the Rue du Foiiurre uiul the Widow Junillo Now the Rue dn Foutrre, though once u very fumous hcroughfure, is to-duy perhups us squulid as uny that drains its refuse by u single gutter into the Seine, and the widow hud been no beauty even in the days when she fol- h-ved ..0 lOfJth of the line us vivundiere and before she weddod .Sergeant Jupille of thut regiment. Hut she und I had struek upu friendship over a flesh wound whieh I re- fo.wuidl taught myself to soften the edge of her white wine by the remembered virtues of her ointment, so that when Sergeant Jupille wus cut of! by u grape-shot in front of Salumuncu, und his Philomene retired to take churge of h.s mohers w.ne-shop in the Rue du Fouurre, she hud cniolled iny nume high on Liu list of her prospective pa- trons. I felt myself, . ,o speak, u purt in the goodwill of her house und Il.aven knows tliought I, as I threaded tlie insalubrious street, it is something for a soldier of the i^..np,re to count even on this much in Paris to-chiy. U.i aliqmd, quocunque loco, quocunqmmcello. Madame Jupille knew me at once, and we fell (figura- tively-speaking) upon each other's neck. Her shop was empty, the whole quarter hud trooped off to th. review. After mingling our tears (again figuradvelv) over the fickleness of the capital, I enquired if she hud any letters " Why, no, comrade.'* *^'None ?" I exclaimed with a very blank face. 1. ,7^^"^" 5 Madame Jupille eyed me archly, and re- Jented, the reason being that Mademoiselle is too dis- CrGGtt " Ah \" I heaved a big sigh of rcliof. woman, tell me what you mean by that ? >j 'ou provoking 416 §':mv 'J ST. IVES o.^^ y ' ""T' \ ""^^ ^^"^^ ^'^"^ *'^ ^^y« ^go "^»^fc a stranger called in and asked if I had any news of the Corporal who praised my white wine. 'Have I any news/ said I 'of a needle in a bundle of hay. They all praise it.-> (0, Madame Jupille.) -The Corporal I'm speaking of/ said he, 'IS or was called Champdivers.' ' Was.' 1 cried You are not going to tell me that he's dead?' and I de- clare to you, comrade, the tears came into my eyes ' No he IS not,' said the stranger, and the best proof is ihat he will be here enquiring for letters before long. You are to tell him that if he expects one from '-see, I took the name down on a scrap of paper, and stuck it in the wine-glass here-; from Miss Flora Gilchrist, he will do well toLit m Paris until a friend finds means to deliver it by hand. And If he asks more about me, say that I come from '-- tenezH wrote the second name underneath-yes, that is It — Mr. Komaine. " "Confound his caution," said I. " What sort of man was this messenger ? " ''0, a staid-looking man, dark and civil spoken. You might call him an upper servant, or perhaps a notary's clerk ; very plainly dressed, in black." " He spoke French ? " " Parfaitement. What else ? " "And he has not called again ? " " To be sure, yes, and the day before yesterday, and seemed quite disappointed. ' Is there anything Monsieur would like to add to his message ?' I asked. ' No ' said he, 'or stay, tell him that all goes well in the North, but iie must not leave Paris until I see him.' " ^ You may guess how I cursed Mr. Romaine for this beat- ing about the bush. If all went well in the North, what possible excuse of caution could the man have for holding ^agk Floras letter ? And how, in any case, could it com- IN PARIS— ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 417 promise me here in Paris. I had half a mind to take the bit in my teeth and post off at once for Calais. Still, there was the plain injunction, and the lawyer doubtless had a reason for it hidden somewhere behind his tiresome cir- cumambulatory approaches. And his messenger might be back at any hour. Therefore, though it went against the grain, I thought it prudent to take lodgings with Madame Jupille and possess my soul in patience. You will say that it should not have been difficult to kill time in Paris between the 31st of March and the 5th of April, 1814. The entry of the Allies, Marmont's great betrayal, the Emperor's abdi- cation, the Cossacks in the streets, the newspaper offices at work like hives under their new editors, and buzzing con- tradictory news from morning to night ; a new rumour at every cafe, a scuffle, or the makings of one, at every street corner, and hour by hour a steady stream of manifestoes, placards, handbills, caricatures, and broad sheets of oppro- brious verse— the din of it all went by me like the vain noises of a dream as I trod the pavements, intent upon my own hopes and perplexities. I cannot think that this was mere selfishness ; rather, a deep disgust was Aveaning me from my country. If this Paris, indeed, were the reality, then was -I the phantasm, the revenant : then was France —the France for which I had fought and my parents gone to the scaffold— a land that had never been, and our patriot- ism the shadow of a shade. Judge me not too hardly if in the restless, aimless perambulations of those five days 1 ' crossed the bridge between the country that held neither kin nor friends for me, but only my ineffectual past, and the country wherein one human creature, if only one, had use for my devotion. On the sixth day -that is, April 5th — my patience broko down. I took my resolution over lunch and a bottle of 87 418 ST. IVES Beaujolais, and walked straifflit hnolr fr««, *i, that two gentlemen desired to see m I,'" "r"""""" -id I, „,ing down ,n, pen witTaToaping tlrt^'^d''; bes.de,. t, and Wsg,ove. (after Wowing 'nt tq'Vt^': to hunt." '* "''"'' y" "S' ''amned e,.sy I. had risen. " T fnlfP if ,7«„ u ^peak of, sinee amid "r ateTnoiilLr'"^ '""'^^^ '» have been at pains to se I me o ,t I t TT'-"" ^°" beb.-ief." KmeoLt. If so, I will ask you to " No pains at all, "lie corrected iff-,hl„ «ti all the time that yo„ were here I , i^f' I it'f ,""" some while before von arriv».l . I ''^P<"='«d you with a message." ^ ''"' '""' "<"" "y «"'". Paul, "A message ?" " T-hen it was not ■" wiZ^;?.''"^'!^^^ '' ^"^ "^^^^'•- Komaine, to whom^' with another glance at the letter--! perceive 1, ! 7 writing for explanations. And since vnT ^ ' ^"'^ ask how on earth I traced vouto t T ''"'' ^''P'""^ *« permit me to inform vou ^'" *" *^'l^^*'^«'' unsavoury den. HKoim jou that a b - spells ' ab/ and that ■estaiirani; for pen, Komaine 5n within en there nonnced lem up," ; and in in. Jhension lie table ) beside r agility led easy ness to ns you you to known id you Paul, You m"~ 3 only ng to ' den, that IN PARIS—ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 419 Bow Street, when on the track of a criminal, does not neg- lect to open his correspondence." I felt my hand tremble as it gripped the top rail of my chair, but I nuinaged to command my voice to answer, coldly enough : " One momejit, Monsieur le Vicomte, before I do my- self the pleasure of pitching you out of the window. You have detained me these five days in Paris, and have done so, you give me to understand, by the simple expedi- ent of a lie. So far, so good. Will you do me the favor to complete the interesting self-exposure, and inform me of your reasons '' With p" he pleasure in life. My plans were not ready— a .itij« detail wanting, that is all. It is now sup- plied." He took a chair, seated himself at the table, and drew a folded paper from his breast-pocket. " It will be news to you, perhaps, that our uncle— our lamented uncle, if you choose— is dead these three weeks." " Rest his soul ! " " Forgive me if I stop short of that pious hope." Alain hesitated, let his venom get the better of him, and spat out an obscure curse on his uncle's memory, which only betrayed the essential weakness of the man. Recovering himself, he went on : "I need not recall to you a certain scene (I confess too theatrical for my taste) arranged by the lawyer at his bedside ; nor need I help you to an inkling of the contents of his last will. But possibly it may have slipped your memory that I gave Romaine fair warning, I prom- ised him that I would raise the question of undue influ- ence, and that I had my Avitnesses ready. I have added to them since, but I own to you that my case will be the stronger when you have obligingly signed the paper which I have the honmir to submit to you." Aad ho tossed it, unopened, across the table. 420 ST. IVES I picked it np and unfolded it :— I, the Viscount Anne de Keroual ^a <3«;„* v under the name of Champdivers^ th! H ' ^^'""'"'^ ^^"'""^ under that name a prisonTofw .' ^. ^"""'ipartist army, and later state that I had nl^I^Z^^::/::^^'^ t '''^.'"^^'^' '''-'' Saint Yves, nor expectations from , ^"""' ^' ^"«"^' ^e sought out by Mr iSrI >""' ""^ -«« o-nod by him, until supplied with m n yT™ Hv^o^ ''""?' ^''"""^^^"' '^^ '»'" s-uggled at nightfa'lltrim eir^^^^^^^^^ ^ f '"™. ^'""'"""^'^ evening I had never set pvoTI r ? ' * "^^l^er, that until that since; 'that he ^^^edr de' ."n I « h' "" ''^^'^ "^* ^^^"« ^^ '"- last stage of senile decav And T . ^^"'' ""' "P^^''^""^ '" ^l^^ Ron,aine did not full/iSm ;:im o h7ci:rstarst ^'^ "" ^^^• and particularly of my concern in the death of a tn "^ '"'"P"' O^uelat, formerly a marechal ^^:^^:'::S:: ^^J^ suffice '^ C^ndlo'end fr-^ !^— * let a sa.ple ;nentsi.pi.a;ed^.:n;ir:i:;~^^ tln-ough, and let it drop on tJie table. '="''*'""'• ^ ^^^^ '^ "I beg your pardon," said I '' bnt wTiof ^^ todoM'ithit?" outwhatdoyouwishme '■'Sign it/' said he. yol 1* a,:'?,7„,<, spent . long .„ee b^woLtg » trof IN PARIS— ALAIN PLAYS IILS LAST CARD 421 my temper. I kept a steady eye on him. and considered • and the longer I considered the better assured was I that his game must have a disastrously weak point somewhere, which it was my business to find. "'ifou have reminded me of your warning to Mr. Ko- maine. Tlie subject is an ugly one for two of our family to touch upon ; but do you happen to recall Mr. Eomaine s counter-threat?" " Bluff ! my young sir. It served his purpose for the moment, I grant you. I was unhinged-the indignity, the very monstrosity of it, the baselessness staggered reason." " It was baseless, then ? " " The best proof is, that in spite of his threat, and my open contempt and disregard of it, Mr. Romaine has not stirred a hand." " You mean that my uncle destroyed the evidence ?" " I mean nothing of the kind," he retorted hotly, - for 1 deny that any such evidence at any time existed " I kept my eye on him. " Alain," I said quietly, " you are a liar." j> j A flush darkened his face beneath its cosmetics, and with an oath he dipped finger and thumb into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a dog-whistle. " No more of that," said xie, "or I whistle up the police this minute." " Well, well, let us resume the discussion. You sa- this man Clausel has denounced me ? " He nodded. ^1 Soldiers of the Empire are cheap in Paris just now." bo cheap that public opinion would be content if all the Messieurs Champdivers were to kill all the Messieurs (xoguelat and be shot or guillotined for it. I forget which your case demands, and doubt if public opinion would enquire." " And yet," I mused, " there must be preliminaries, some 422 ST. IVES beyond r tzv::^ ti """^^'^ ""»-' -<• i >ook that a British j„ ! wH ]''/„? 7/ ''"''' "'" »^ P"""*"" prisoner „!,„ l,a, stood hL trial Z T"^""^ B"onaparti.st radea^ received tlAtr, t Z^^'^ °' » — -o.'t%Tt;r,!;:;ir;'d:"r' ""'-''" you ont-at least not iuJ v„ ' ?.""' P™?"*'' '» "i"? ■ tell jou the tr, «°Vo:?n 'LtTh'' ' '^ '" '^^^"P^' ''^^ air. And now, Mons ™^v„ ' """" "' " ""l" '''"'^l' i^nave in your hand W,l then IT"!-""' ^°" '»" "'« your foolish paper „„ let ™1 ,; ^ ^ '"'"• ^^'<"* I tear federate." I stopp d t„'' i™!''^" " '°°'' »' y»"r con- stairs, "Madame Jupille b 1 T'^ '""'='' '^°>''" "'» visitor to ascend." «°°'' "" '" '^l' "y other looking oS:lp™rfo„ltf''7^^''''' "■"• ^'""O «-re some fye-worksat ifrttd oJ t °"^"'"'' "'"'''« »' down to the Seine TJjL *''' f ^<«=' '»""<1 it« way footsteps monnttag the stats "^ '"'' '''"'' ""^ ^P^-^'^d ::?,:™^^/™«". Monsieur, forthis intrusion." into m/back. : couirn„t\ ^'"' " "'""•«'' »' »hot fired sudden!,. "M. Se' ™ '^''" '""'"' °" *- ■»»- aoo^artnd t?:hl%;Vro ttT '''° "'°°'' - «^^ stared at him with th. Kl V u "' '""'» '' ^lain or I lieve there 1 ign fl Tt liiler '"™'''' "'""8" I be- " Monsieur the vlscou^? .-tMT' •" °" """P'e^ions. cent,, effected an eX^. Tht^tkef ™'1-f ' "'^■ effect another, and have left Mr. ClausJrSUlS^ t'o" even pos- tid I look i probable he Cornte •napartist >f a corn- inch or 3 to fling 3ape. To tie fresii lold the re I tear 5ur con- >wn the y other d there jf use of its way ^pected I si on/' t fired 1 more in the or I ilbe- xions. . *'re- rty to ngto IN PARIS-ALAIN PLAFS HIS LAST CAIID 423 some arguments which are being addressed to him by Mr Dudgeon, my confidential clerk. I think I may promise " -withachuckle-'^hey will prove effectual/ TyTur faces gent emen, I see that you regard my appearance as Ztt It? " I'TuV' ' ™"-^^^^ ^^'' Monsieurle Vi ! sTmnt r ' ''r"^', "^l^-^^^-^S by this time that it is the simples , most natural affair in the world. I engaged mv word sir, to have you watched. Will it be setXn"! more than ordinary astuteness that, finding you in nego- tiations for the exchange of the prisoner Ckusel-we kept an eye upon him also-that we followed him to Dover, aifd hough unfortunate in missing the boat, reached Par s n time to watch the pair of you leave your lodgings I i^ rlXdV;'' *^;f^^--"^' -J^'ther you were bound, w reached the Rue du Fouarre in time to watch you making your dispositions ? But I run on too fast, Mr. Anne ; I am entrusted with a letter for you. When, with Mr. Alain^ Sn"' '"^ '"' "^' ''' ''' "'" ^^^"-^ -- kittle 0011- wh!i^ wtt ""'^^^ ''"'' '"^ ''""^^'^ '' '^'^ fir^Pl-^e^ ma iff .h^ ? ''P^'"''^' ^^"'^ ^^^'^ 'y^' ^""^ like a mastiff about to spring. I broke open my letter and stooped to pick up a small enclosure which fell fl^m it. My Dearest Anne, " "e dl ntr T"'',""''' ""'' '" ' "'* •■"" 'Oil vou w.«. we ■>>, at'., you let. u, I „.d . ..,k „,u, Major n„.,ed,, anjlri 424 ST. IVES well, and would p^ov i7 UesSu H "'" ''"' ^^''^ '^^ ^^'^^ ™<^ one for the military authoride/al .k ''.^' "^"'°'* ^"" "^« ^^^^''^ «ure that you badV^d 1 t nto^l.^l,'^. '''^^ """"^ ^^^ ^^^'^^ which ^^as quite a differentrir f "° "" ^"'""^ "-^ ^««°«'> could not only n^ake an affidavL ' " ?"' '"''' '"'''' """^ '^^^ he account, ^^ntL:.lZTo7 Zl T^'^^'^^ «" '^^^ -« the truth. AVhich he dfd t.l ^'''"''' '« '"'^'^'^ '"^ ^'"nfess and Mr. Robbie 1 a el f IZ' "'',* ''""'^ ''''' '"^'^ ^lausel sign it; with thia to Mr. Ronmirfn r . ' f "''"'"' "'"^^' ''' '« «««ding ley (who is a dea^ircon^: over 1 '" ""* '^ '''^ "'^^°" ^"^ «-'- write these hurried linos He I T '' T"'""^ "^ "'^ ^^■^^•^'^'" while I just in time, since Cl^ud'srS' ' ""' '"'^''^ ^'"^'"^'"^ ^^ -'^ and he is gJing back : F Lef "1? 't ^f ?" -^-'-"^^ ^- l^in' ^ laute. And so in haste I write myself. Your sincere friend, You told oe to „„,e „, „„j .„ i „„„ , „ j ,^^^^^^^ ^^_^^ ,, anJ™ :"""' "- """'o ™ " large and unformed hand, »EAu Mu. Anne, Respected Sir, Thia i, to tell j„„ Mr, MacE T, ''"""""-'"'i ClauMl ha. contest. n.e. Mi.s Flora »,. , hoTn. pu, m"1 "'Jr-"'" "'•"'m her, „„, «n. e,.e hut . „ /aea. .eeX'^ r Lt^r.^:.;: r"" Yours Respectfully, Jas. Rowly. Having read these otters throiiffh I nl^np^ fi, • n>a;„e, ..! ^ZITI^T^^Z,^:^^^ '" ^'- «°- wmch (,no. ol J as a matter of generosity, or, say. told him 80) e wislied me was really for feeling of honour^ md that he 3n his own im confess isel sign it ; is sending why Kow- len while I c was only ro for him, self, d, Flora. a. u, Anne." d hand. ent, all ia I confest. an which her, not is some- ir; in mv Plain's r. Ro- liscnss f, say, IN PAKLS-ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 425 Mr. ^A\^lT °^ ^'"' ^'"''^ '"'' ^' ^'""''^'^ ^^ ^^^"-*° '' You forget Clausel, I think/' snarled my cousin. to ZT: I ^ll^^^f **«^ <=^'1^"^«1-" Mr. Romaine stepped M T '^''"'' ^"^ ''^"^^ ^^0^^"' -Dudgeon '" Mr Dudgeon appeared, and endeavoured to throw info the stiffness of his salutation a denial that he had ever waltzed with me m the moonlight. ''Where is the man Clausel ?" * of the rete d'Or at the top or the bottom of tliis street ; F pi-esume the bottom, since the sewer runs in that direction. At a_ll events Mr Clausel disappeared about two minutes ago in the other. ' Alain sprang up, whistle in hand. "Put it down," said Mr. Romaine ; " the man was cheat- ing you. I can only hope,'' he added with a sour smile. mat you paid him on account with an I U " But Alain turned at bay. - One trivial pdnt seems to have escaped you, Master Attorney, or your courage is more than I g,ve you credit for. The English are none too popular ,n Paris as yet, and this is not the most scrunii- lous quarter One blast of this wliistle, a cry of " bJiou anylais," and two Englishmen " " Say three," Mr. Romaine interrupted, and strode to ::;i:;;air::'^^"^^ And here let me cry " Halt ! " There are things in thi. woid-or that IS my belief-too J^itiful to be set down in writing and of these Alain's collapse was one. It mly be "he nV -/r"'"' ^''''^''' --.'l^teousness accllti rathei ill with the weapon he used so unsparingly. Of J^ennlneed on y sav tbnt fbo ln'-ir,i. >. i /- . f}iv,>nrri. fi 1 "^ , ^"^cious I'ogue shouMerod thiough the doorway as though he had a public duty to 426 ST. IVES ) !■ eager to denoMco his fe low ra'itu nfr' "''^fT™'"'^ pulsion, l,e would 11 fZ > , ^ '^ " '''°'J'"»» ing that ho would certativ r" '",^"f''""J ' ^ut see- twentv.four hours of h^i^. "f?!''''' ^"^ "'"W ""hin ..nneo'essa" "* "' ^'"""'' ^ "'™«l>t 'his But I was silent. CHAPTER XXXVI I 00 TO CLAIM FLORA Behold me now speeding northwards on the wings of love, ballasted b> Mr. Roniaine. BuL indeed, :hat worthy man climbed into the cal(^che witli something lesh. than his habitual gravity. He was obviously and pardonabl / flushed with triumph. I observed that now and again ho smiled to himself in the twilight, or drew in his breath and emitted it with a martial pouf ! And when he began to talk— which he did as soon as we were clear of the Saint Denis barrier-the points of the family lawyer were un- trussed. He leaned back in the cah^che with the air of a man who liad subscribed to the Peace of Europe and dined well on top of it. He criticised the fortifications with a wave of his toothpick, and discoursed derisively and at large on the Emperor's abdication, on the treachery of the JJuke of Ragusa, on the prospects of the Bourbons, and on the character of M. Talleyrand, with anecdotes which made up in racmess for what they lacked in authenticity. We were bowling through La Chapelle svhen he pulled out his snuff-box and proffered it. " You are silent, Mr. Anne." "I was waiting for the chorus," said I. " 'Rule, Britan- ma . Britannia rules the waves : and Britons never never, never—' Come, out with it ! " ;' Well," he retorted, -and I hope the tune will come 4Aaiurai co you before long." 437 428 RT. IVKS -HI, ti,o cr„r;r. „" w^ ':ri "™"'*° """^ "-"- "7-0 f,...„ „, „„ ,::,:"„vr -,'"'";"," '° """" "- w//e of tho Onoi-i n^n f^ ^"'^toiiiu. I luive seen t|,o tl.c bet blood in I'wei''" '7,™''"" ''''''"' "'»■''"' by gr„,..s^ot, ™.rt lel/ef :' l'"'r '''°'"' "°"" for Fmnce ™d the little mantn "J , "'^°" '" <=''»■■ m^inc, no doubt my niemorJ wili^ ^i " '"""' ^'- «»■ tl'oir betters, and tLTZlLT T'l"" '^""^ '"''» '""' '^'Ov^m, just ast Se no d ,.T ' '"i,''""' ■" "'°-'"« tiee of the Peace and Bom,tv Li, t "'" ' "'"' •"^^"« J- B'-kinghan.. I «„, cC;,f,^;tX "" '''"' »' mo, and, on my faith she 1,„! oounti'y, as you remind the sake of her I a™ 71,1 , "" F'^" '" '"»• ""' for give me time." '^'" "™ ' ™Poat, you must f«t.'^™ ""<• ^''^"-™'' Mr! A„,i:'^''vo„ ilr;;:: As we approached Saint Deni« tb« «„ . , . sensibly slackened, and a mrii ^ T °' *"' ''''™""« olling-cap over his ears and tn^^"'"'' ''" P""'"^ '"« "-"v- wide-awake beside him The" ",'° ''"""'^'■- ' »"' oWll in it, and the bmatlfof """f "'«'" '""• " "">* «' upon the lamps of the « thl IZ '"•''"""« """"' t;veen me an'd the posSrtb:::tld'"''''^^ black spires of the poplar avennp« ^r • ''''^'' ^^'^ moved in parade, m/ ,e ?? ' ?' ^'^g'^ents of stars i' '^^ • -^^ ^'""t "P to the ensign of their I GO TO CLAIM FLORA 420 noiseless evolntions, to tho pole-star, mid to Cassiopeia swiuging beneath it, low in the north, over my Flora's nil- low— mi/ pole-star and jonrney's end. Under this soothing refl-\v.. I composed myself to slumber, and awoke, to my surprise and annoyance, in a miserable flutter of the ne- v(. • Afi<; this fretfulness in- creased with the hours, soih.-.: fro! : Amiens to tiie coast Mr. Romaine must have had :- 3 devil of a time with me. I bolted my meals at the way-houses, chafing' .,11 the while at the business of the relays. I popped up and down in the caleche like a shot on a hot shovel. I cursed our pace. I girded at the lawyer's snuff-box and could have called him out upon Calais sands, when we reached them, to jus- tify his vile, methodical use of it. By good fortune we arrived to find the packet ready with her warps, and bun- dled ourselves on board in a hurry. AVe sought separate cabins for the night, and in mine, as in a sort of moral bath, the drastic cross seas of the Channel cleansed me of my irritable humour and left me like a rag beaten and hung on a clothes-line to the winds of heaven. In the grey of the morning Ave diseml)arked at Dover and hei-eMr. Romaine had -prepared a surprise for me For as Ave drew to the shore and the throng of porters and waterside loafers, on what should my gaze alii,dit but the beaming countenance of Mr. Rowley ! I declare it com- municated a roseate flush to the pallid cliffs of Albion I could have fallen on his neck. On his side the honest lad kept touching his hat and grinning in a speechless ecstasy. As he confessed to me later, -It was either hold my tongue, sir, or call for three cheers." He snatched my valise and ushered us through the croAvd to our hotel brejikfast. And it seemed he must have filled up his tim « at LJover with trumpetings of our importance, for the lai-d- lord welcomed us on the perron, obseiuiously cringing 430 ST. IVES «is (,race of Wellington himseH ; and the waiters T ho l.eve, wonld have gone on all four^ bnt for tie d fflouUv' 2l ,if/ ^ ? " ^'^'^"■'"g* ; " great English landowner and did my best to eommand the mien proper to tl at trl' bot^MTb:""' '""T' "-P^'^'-o/w:' a^ t Z^Tjy. '"''"' '""^ '» "'^ "«- -here our ehaise Eowvl'""" '" "'" ' "' ^'s" °' ■'■ »" »y ^^0 -.gM ordlfff '°®/°'"' P""'''"''' ='■■' >"" I '»»k it on myself to order the colonr, and hoping it wasn't a liberty." ^ b«l.et-r„i: Anting "'"^ '""'~'' '^"''■-'^' •""* '- » An'3' '* ' "*""'' "'' '" '" '» '^^ »° »J »™ hook, Mr. •' We fight under the old colours, my lad." Wh^ n '"5 ",■"*/"' "™ '""^' ^'■•' strike me lacky!" Mr RoL i1 "'■'"'« "'' ''"■^'^'"g" to^rds London- upon tricw' rold':; *r ^'"'^ "" ««'^IP--ohed Ai.bur;:f^j;rLr^s;:^^^^^^^ ffood.hpirfori lo/i J 1 1 ^owiey ot yours seems a next time I have to travel post with an impatient lover Fll take a lea out of his book and buy me a flageolet." feir, it was ungrateful of me " "Tut tut, Mr. Anne. I was fresh from mv little tv\ ror a word of approb...,on-a little pat on the back a, T may say. It ,s not often that I have felt the need of it twice or thnce in m- life, perhaps; not often enouth^ justify my anticipating your example and seeking a wi I GO TO CLAIM FLORA 431 r« betimes, for that is a man's one chance if he wants another to taste his success." "And yet I dare swear you rejoice in mine, unselfishly enough." " Why, no, sir ; your cousin would have sent me .0 the right-about within a week of his succession. Still, I own to you that he offended something at least as deep as self- interest ; the sight and scent of him habitually turned my gorge ; whereas "—and he inclined to me with a Avy smile — " your unwisdom at least was amiable, and—in short, sir, though you can be infernally provoking, it has been a pleasure to serve you." You may be sure that this did not lessen my contrition. We reached London late that night, and here Mr. Romaine took leave of us. Business waited for him at Amersham Phice. After a few hours' sleep, Rowley woke me to choose between two post-boys in blue jackets and white hats and two in buff jackets and black hats, who were competing for the honour of conveying us as far as Barnet, and having de- cided in favour of the blue-and-white, and solaced the buff- and-black with a pour-boire, we pushed forward once more. We were now upon the Great North Road, along which the York mail rolled its steady ten miles an hour, to the waftod niusic of tlie guard's bugle— a rate of speed which, to the more Dorian mood of Mr. Rowley's flageolet, I proposed to better by one-fifth. But first, having restored the lad to his old seat beside me, I must cross-question him upon his aavcntures in Edinburgh and the latest news of Flora and her aunt, Mr. Robbie, Mrs. McRankine, and the rest of my friends. It came out that Mi. Rowley's surrender to my dear girl had been both instantaneous and complete. " Slie is a floorer, Mr. Anne. I suppose now, sir, you'll be standing up for that knock-me-down kind of thing ?" " Explain yourself, my lad." 432 ST. IVES s.v'lif"^ ,T' '""■''°"' '"■ """" 'hoy eall love at first )) << --''iV/j oil- Tl|e Queen of Navarre, Mr. Rowley " Mf:VeL::,.t'z:''rf "^ ^ '"'"-p^-it took l'"".!. She toM ,;le so » ' ^ "'""' *" ''^'- ^""^ '"■«■ M^^^L^r™^^^- ^— -^et „.. to cM^^t t ,e note „, ,t-bj;t .,„e ..v^o't T„' "'' " ^°" amnsement f • ' e v . m t," "''" ""' in<='-ednlons ion a„c, a n.omJZ"-^"^'^ "" ' S'"-""-"- ery, and tl,e tnulitio, : " ody-servic '111' "" '"" '"■"'- «-t when thegent,e„.a„ ^^^IZZ^l^^tl' a sympathetic wound. Wlnt tor ^^^'/^^^^'^^^^ ^'I'^ll t'-^I^o than that a gentleman of K.) ^ ? 1^ ^' more nutnn.I fifty for his frrsesTintloT^ '^^'"^^ '^^^^^'^ ^^^^^^ «f Mcknldne ! ^^ ^'"'^'' P''^^^^^"' StiH-Bethiuh I kept my countenanrn y^[^\^ «, , r. nr t> , , ;aid I. .. if „„,ie be ti,e food of ^ I „ on"" T'f ' Rowley ffjive *' The rirl u tu r, V ' ^ ^ ' ^"^ ^^^- b"t a,f„r. ^4h te^rifl ' e p";: i„"f 'l*'"*^'r' "'■■'^' slight "Hei.'ho I" i., , f*'™- He broke off with a " But now r„, hound for Brighton camp- K„ul !H..von then pr.y guide a.e, And send me safely back again To the Girl I left behind ine I" I GO TO CLAIM FLORA 433 Thenceforward that not nninspiriting air became the motif of our progress. We never tired of it. Whenever our conversation flagged, by tacit consent Mr. Rowley p.ieced his flageolet together and stnrted it. The horses lilted it out in their gallop : the harness jingled, the pos- tilions tittuppcd to it. And the presto with which it wound up as we came to a post-house and a fresh relay of horses, had to be heard to be believed. So with the chaise windows open to the vigorous airs of spring, and my own breast like a window thing wide to youth and health and happy expectations, I rattled homo- wards ; impatient as a lover should be, yet not too im- patient to taste the humour of spinning like a lord, with a pocketful of money, along the road which the ci-devant M. Champdivers had so fearfully dodged and skirted in Bur- chell Fenn's covered cart. And yet so impatient, that when we galloped over the Calton Hill and down into Edinburgh by the new London road, with the wind in our faces and a sense of April in it, brisk and jolly, I must pack off Rowley to our lodgings with the valises, and stay only for a wush and breakfast at Dumbreck's before posting on to Swanston olone. " Whene'er my steps return that way, Still faithful sliall whe find me. And never more again I'll stray From the Girl I loft behind me." Where the gables of the cottage rose into view over the hill's shoulder I dismissed my driver and walked forward, whistling the tune : but fell silent as I came under the lee of the garden wall, and sought for the exact spot of my old escalade. I found it by the wide beechen branches over the road, and hoisted myself noiselessly up to the coping, where, as before, they screened me— or would have screened me had I cared to wait. 88 434 ST. IVES kp of her morning i;„Z, f r?""' *"''» ™d "« '"S her, witli his biicic 't,.«-,J' ?"■ ^"'^ confront- between tho „rn,l,o et o 1 i :;"i i'" ".■™"'»>''ered patch gardener rested boU la^k o , f.'""''-'^»'«'™'"> Bobie the "But Hike to , kTy uls'r'' ="■' ^^P»«tal''ted. " Aweel, miss • it', nT '^^ ""' "' " ""• ^obie I" say to yon." ' "' "''""' ™""" ^o bulbs, that's all I And that was all I waited to hear A, 1,. l, . resumed his digging I shooV ,1 , *""'* °''<"' »"<• both hands and s!t ft Ltif, ^l"", "' '^ ''^-'' '"tb glaneed "P and, spying nefite,^ '"'''• *'"" ""="" ""« " What ails re, S'" ' r!k " ?"?'"« '""'' »'7- stanter ; but she !?,?,' , • f '" '"''•"gbtened himself in- gazing t;w::ds «,e' kftltfSrde?''-'''""' '""» »" ™ I rn'olfp'S'"' " "'"'" "™"g "'^arti-the strawberry-beds, '".ipsSaU^^eVr/aTf,™- ^"^ '-™<>et the and her heavenly bL'sh a ' ^t st't TT' "^ °'«''"'"'^-' tbat now my arms\^:"ZreSd7„T* "'^ "'^"^"^^ "Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. . » ■ -rii!:diin:x^:ttr:r "■■'^^^ '^^ ^^" :„'a'tr ranTrf h^t"^"- =^^^ «!- to wune. otr emCl '""' "™''' ""^ J- ' " I GO TO CLAIM FLORA 435 e, not fif- ^ goddsss, hine and and the h flowers ionf rent- ed patcli obie tlie stulated. hie I " t's all I ver and 3h with tie and cry. self in- id was '^-beds, et the dness, ms to rence • the •lleo- Light it iu "The good Lord behear!" ho exclaimed, stood stock- still for a moment, and waddled olf at top speed towards tlie back door. " We must tell Aunt at once ! She will— why, Anne, where are you going?" She caught my sleeve. " To the h' u-house, to be sure," suid I. A moment later, with peals of happy laughter we had taken hands and were running along the garden allevs tow- ards the house. And I remember, as we ran, finding it somewhat singular that this should be the first time I had ever invaded Swanston Cottage by way of the front door. We came upon Mrs. Gilchrist in the breakfast-room. A pile of linen lay on the horse-hair sofa, and the good lady, with a measuring-tape in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other, was walking around Ronald, who stood on the hearthrug in a very manly attitude. She regarded me over her gold-rimmed spectacles, and, shifting the scissors into her left hand, held out her right. "H'm/'said she; "I give ye good-morning, Mosha. And what night you be wanting of us this time ?" " Madam," I answered, " that I hope, is fairly evi- dent." ■ ^ Ronald came forward. ''I congratulate you, Saint- Yves, with all my heart. And you may congratulate me :. I have my commission." " Nay, then," said I, " let me rather congratulate Frnnce that the war is over. Seriously, my dear fellow, I Aiah you joy. Vrhat's the regiment ?" '' The 4th." " Chevenix's ! " "Chevenix is a decent fellow. He has behaved very well, indeed he has." " Very well indeed," said Flora, nodding her head. ST, IVES "He has the knack Ti i- •* any the better for it-l_- ^°" ^""P""* "^^ to like h'm f «or,." Sho opened and C L '" """" "' " f" »' An the evfuiinf" nr *' ^ u ,. ' Edinburgh bj so;,r „ ;; ^'d "? ' '""^^"^ ''■'"^ *» »y feet tonched earth wh „ trdt " '° ™^ '""S"'*'"- »"<1 Bethiah McEanki„e. °°' "'" °P™<«" '" me by "But where is Eowley ?» r „,wj „ 'ng round my sitting-room "'""™' '"'«•' >»"''- ■■■ the wind^ And'ha-s „ bS thi^r' '"■"" '" ""^ '™"^'^<1 *"I 0, pepper„.int in hia littl wl '™" ''"' '""' ^ ^P«- nretol t^^^IS^^'' *'- -' '- upon the advent- I^'lora and I wero nvn-.M-^^ i . settled for little overjx nlZ'^ '".f '™' »'' ''«' ''een Amersham Place JL "'T^" """/ "'" =Pl«.do„r, „, -'ape from Elba. Th™,; o .t t e"e?' "" ^™1'-'"'^ - e.':ouraio„s of the HunS , ' ^'^'equent alarums and "amed them for „s) i have ^ i"' ''" ^'"'»'"' ' Anne sat still and wanii,-!.^'^^^ "»' *« Vicon ^ ^'ear, Anne eat still and wnn,,M, ""'^<''" "'»' the To be sure, Napoton lit '■""'' "' "'" >^"»^^'- tor the .<,;„.r ™ t "■7,7"--'--.a"dIImd ;: ,, ">-dy, in legal bJ^^eeu^^ll^rV" f f '^^^ •'"' I'iiidhe, a "naturaiJKod" I GO TO CLAIM FLORA 437 ^ like him Jier most ^ g™vely a fine figure thc-o. An 11 "' k'/." "■"."""'" '" '"""^ ;ia eyes rested on Flora I Z,,,'^™ »''«'«: '" -hile thml company, where Knsign I onaM , r'r'' °' "'-^ bes.de the tattered o„l„„r.s, with 1 , held T" """■'='""' colour on his y„„„g ^heek „„d a 1 VT^ " ' ""^ " '"«'' passed us. " "P '""' quivered as ho "God bless you, Ronald!" Left u'hnpl r " Ti,., I, 1 H swung routd 'the I teHnji' h «''^°' "•^'"^ "«»»" '•earraukandthe.adiut"nth. 1, , ^""K" ^'^et ; the Market. Our drivt^^'ttoSif '' "Tf "'' ""^ i"" when Flora's hand stolel o " e' VTrT\*^ ">"^-. own conflicting thoughts to co« fort ter " '™'" "^ band, rose nd gravely fc Jie made for while E?'ir of the ' marched nd a high 3red as he ig behind reet; the he Lawn o follow, from my ^P^