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Las diagrammes suiwants illustrent la mAthoda. 1 MICROCOPY rtESOlUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) I.I 1 50 ™==- i" illM If IllM ISO Z5 2.2 2.0 1.8 A APPLIED IM^GE Inc 165J East Main Street Rochester, New York 14609 USA (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone (716) 288 - 5989 - Fax (I / H^ ■a _j i THE CASTLE INN # ThU Edition is intended for Circulation only in India and the British Colonics. i idia X 2 fNX: Ui m # THE CASTLE INN BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN AUTHOR OP " A GEHX1EMA5 OF FRANCE," " TJNDBR THE RED ROBB,' " THB HOUSE OF THE WOIF, " ETC. WITH A FRONTISPIECE * ,^i * *.. ^t « ' # Eavanta THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LIMITED It f 0^ ^ * if A * PI TI AC TH CONTENTS. — ♦ CHAPTER I. A KNIGHT ERRANT .... '"'^"f CHAPTER II. A MISADVENTURE .... CriAPTER III. TUTOR AND PUPILS— OLD STYLE jg CHAPTER IV. PEEPING TOM OF WALLINGFOED gj, CHAPTER V. THE MEETING CHAPTER VI. A FISH OUT OF WATER. ,, 51 CHAPTER VII, ACHILLES AND BRISEIS g2 CHAPTER VIII. THE OLD BATH ROAD . . ' * • • • • • 74 ^ I,. ^* CONTENTS. CHAPTER IX. 8T. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON. . ''*°" ' ' • • • 87 CHAPTER X. MOTHER AND SON . 97 CHAPTER XI. DR. ADDING TON . 103 CHAPTER XII. TDLIA . 114 CHAPTER XIII. A SPOILED CHILD V 124 CHAPTER XIV. A GOOD MAN'S DILEMMA 135 CHAPTER XV. AMORIS INTEr-itATIO 113 CHAPTER XVI. THE BLACK FAN 153 CHAPTER XVII. MB. FISHWICK, THE ARBITER 161 CHAPTER XVIII. THE PURSUIT . . • 168 CHAPTER XIX. AH UM^'ILLING ALLY 178 CONTENTS. yli CHAPTER XX. THE EMPOY POST-CHAISE *'*'"' . . 188 CHAPTEli XXI. IN THE CAEEIAQi: Iflg CHAPTER XXII. FACILIS DESCENSUS ... „., CHAPTER XXIII. BULLY POMEEOy ... „oi CHAPTER XXI V^ CUTTING FOB THE QUEEN OSI CHAPTER XXy. LOBD ALMEUIC'S SUIT . . <>.„ CHAPTER XXVI. BOON COMPANIONS CHAPTER XXVII. un. PISH wick's discovery . „-- CHAPTER XXYIII. A BOUGH AWAKENING 2_g CHAPTER XXIX. MB. pomeeoy's plan 2g„ CHAPTER XXX. A GEEEK GIFT . qon , -v. f r viii CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXXI. THE INN AT CHIPPENHAM . 'Iff'f • . . 304 CHAPTER XXXII. CHANCE MEDLEY . ' • 314 CHAPTER XXXIII. IN THE CARBIAOE • 324 CHAPTER XXXIV. BAD NEWS . 333 CHAPTER XXX\. DORMITAT HOMEBUS .... CHAPTER XXXVI. THE ATTOENEY SPEAKS 319 CHAPTER XXXV 1 1. A HANDSOME ALLOWANCE . . ' • • • . 3jG CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE CLERK QP THE LEASES 3u7 THE CASTLE INN. CHAPTER I. A KNIGHT-ERRANT. About a hundred and thirty years ago, when the third George, whom our grandfathers knew in his blind dotage, was a. young and sturdy bridegroom ; when old Q., whom' 1810 found peering from his balcony in Piccadilly, deaf, toothless, and a skeleton, was that gay and lively spaii, the Earl of March ; when bore and boreis/t were words of 'hatd ton, unknown to the vulgar, and the price of a borough was 5,000/. ; when gibbets still served for sign-posts, and railways were not and highwaymen were— to be more exact, in the early spring of the year 1707, a travelling chariot-and-four drew up about five in the evening before the inn at Wheatley Bridge, a short stage from Oxford on the Oxford road. A gig and a couple of post-chaises, attended by the customary group of stablemen, topers, and gossips already stood before the house, but these were quickly deserted in favour of the more important equipage. The drawers in their aprons trooped out, but the landlord, foreseeing a rich harvest, was first at the door of the carriage, and opened it with a bow siioJi as js rarely seen in these days. " WiU your lordship please to alight > " he said O.I. ^ ■ g THE CASTLE INN. cried one of those Avithln. "Shut the "No, rascal!" door I " " You wish fresh horses, my lord ? " tha «k.. • rephed. "Of course. TheyXl be—'' '^'''"' ^^"^' Sh!,\Ti! I'*" "'''\'"^'^' ''"' '^'' ^'''^^ «"«^ve, " DVe hear ? Shut the door, and -o to the devil I " ^ '^ were beat,-,,, tho,> hal'l^^: Xr l";,::"" ■^"l' evenin^Mvas chill. *« wt,„. .- ..^ ""'»^', lor the March What is np, j,'oritl(.inen ? " l,c said.' w J Thl ^"^ ^'''' '"'^ "" "'^''•"''^^ '^^'^ ^'oad, the dice roll " was the answer. " The v will fini«>. ^i • , """^ "'^*^ ro"» Thitk^iii T 1 -""^y^vj'i nnish tlieu- game hi ouiet mat IS all. Lord, how your folks stare I IT-iv. fi seen a lord before ? " ^ ^raie i lla^e they never " Who is it V " the landlord asked eajrerlv - J thn. i f t knew his Grace's face " ^' thought I whose shaped ridin-r-c™,. foiiT 7 u . ' ^"""^ ■"*" botra,ed-U,at he 1 dl ; „ th ^ "u",""™ ""^ stepped down " A ,-„^n: , "^ '"''-'" "^ fchion- oeL. ;v^ndhiT:::LX?o'.-'''^»-'-." immediate 1 7. mv lorr^ Tk;„ -p-...-Ha^^,o^rtir:.2,z:r.- ^o-"- c"ri«fty, the run. noon n ', "•""" '"''" ''''" '""«"« into the hou»7 ° '^ • ^°"''«'' ''J' * """Pa-'ion. loun^eM A KNIGHT-ERRANT. The third traveller — for three there were— by a gesture directed the servant to close the carria{.je door, and, keeping his seat, j^azed sleepily through the window. The loitering crowd, standing at a respectful distance, returned his glances with interest, nntil an empty post-chaise, approaching from the direction of Oxford, rattled up noisily and split the group asunder. As the steaming horses stopped within a few paces of the chariot, the gentleman seated in the latter saw one of the ostlers go up to the post-chaise and heard him say, "Soon back, Jimmie ? " "Ay, and I ha' been stopped too," tlie postboy answered as he dropped his reins. " No ! " in a tone of surprise. " Was it Black Jack ? " " Not he. 'Twas a woman I " A murmur of astonishment greeted the answer. The post- boy grinned, and sitting easily in his pad prepared to enjoy the situation. " Ay, a woman ! " he said. " And a rare pair of eyes to that. What do you think she wanted, lads ? " "The stuff, of course." " Not she. Wanted one of them \ took "—and he jci'ked his elbow contemptuously in the direction whence he had come—" to fight a duel i'or her. One of they ! Said, wua he Mr. Berkeley, and would he risk his hfe for a woman." The head ostler stared. "Lord ! and who was it he was to fight ? " he asked at last. " She did not say. Her spark maybe, that has jilted her." *' And would they, Jimmie ? " "They? Shoo! They were Methodists," the postboy answered contemptuously, " Scratch wigs and snufl'-colour. If she had not been next door to a Bess of Bedlam and in a main tantrum, she would have seen that. But ' Are you Mr. Berkeley ? ' she says, all on fire like. And * Will you srinei the door on them. But I tell you she was a pretty piece as B U I THE CASTLE INN. Haifa mile this side of Oxford, your w^rshin " n . boy answered, knuckling l.is forehe'ul . ^''"P; ^^^« P^^^- Bho was a play actrcHs S n hnf i * '"'"'^^ ^'^ ^^' «'"•'. . The .e;.,:.a?::dd.' :^ zrvi ""V' '''-" nisht hati so far set ,„ (1,„, , '\ . , >vm.,, n' IJ^'' •■ «"= "-vcl with a showe,- horses started forward md ^ ^ "'"f"^ ""'"' "'"P'^' ",„ car™™ ,.„ii„^ '.!'•'■ "'"^ """J » slu-dl hu, rah „,v l„rd'^ " -'-0- -"iia akaj from lue door. ' " A KNIGHT-ERRANT. " Now, who casts?" the peer cried briskly, arranginfr him- Bcif ill his seat. •* George, Til set you. The old stakes ? " "No, I -m done for to-night," Sir George answered yawning »»'' ,t disguise. "Wtiiit! crabbed, dear lad ? " •' Ay, set Berkeley, ray lord. He's a bettor match for ynu." " And be robbed by the first highwayman we meet r No, no ! T told you, if I was to jjo down to tliis damp holo of mine— fancy living a hundred miles from White's I 1 should die if I could not game every day— you were to play with me, and Berkeley was to ensure my purse.'" "He would as soon take it," Sir George answered languidly, gazing thrfuigh the glass. " Sooner, by ! " cried the third traveller, a aturnine, dark-faced man of thirty- four or more, who sat with his back to the horses, and toyed with a pistol at lay on the Beat beside him. "I'm content if your lordsl is." "Then have at you ! Call the main, Colon... Y< i may be the devil amoi g the highwaymen— that war joke, was it not ?— ut Til see the colour of yoi "Beware of him He dvved March," Sir indifferently. " He won't strip m " cried the young lord. " I main. Five to four he i irows crabs ! AYill y(.u take. Soane did not answer, and the two, absorbed in of the dice a)id the turn.s of their beloved hazard, forgot him ; his lordship being the deepest player in London and as fit a successor to he luckless Lord ^lountforc s one drop of water to anoth^ r. Thus left to himself, an " as eifectually screened froni remark as if he sat alone, Sir George devoted himself i an eager scrutiny of the nii;ht, looking first through ont window and then through the other; in which he persev red tliongh darkness had fallen so completely that only the ledges showed in the lamplight, Selwyn's rge said ve is the ■rge?" lattlo Htly THE CASTLE INN. Klidins giddily by in cdless walk of white. On a saddm 1.0 d.^pod the gta with an o..cIan,ation, and th™t fu" "Pull up !" ho cried. "I want to descend." The young lord uttered a peevish e.«l«matio„. " What j^ to do ? he coutmued, .Wancing round , then Ztlw otunnng to the dice, " if it i, ,„y p„^ theyCt ^^J oack .Ion- the road to a spot where a fi.ruro, cloaked nnd .coded was just visible, lurking on the fdnge o ttu'^ l.;,'I^t. As he approached it, he raised hi^ hat wi^ u oxag-cralion of poh'teness. '^" "Madam," he said, '« you asked for me, I be.eve p " ^:ffr;;r^'" "= ""^-^'' »•"" --'..oe a„d " ^V ho killed tlie hi"-]iwaviiiin nf tt, mas ?" s!ie cried. ° ^'^'"'" ""^ ^^^^^"«'^^v last CLrist- " The same, madam." 1^' And shot Farnham Joe at Roehampton ? " ^^ Yes, madam. Ami much at your service." "Atl:';lr;;^:;i:^^^^^^ a.^.;^wil,m.toH;k.r^^^^^^^^^ And the sake of your /.m.a i/eux, madam ? " he auswered a laugh m Ins voire. *'Yes." "^-'lusuticd, " You mean ic ? " A KNIGHT-ERRANT. 7 " Prove me," he ans\\<>red. His tone was light ; but the woman, who seemed to labour under strong eraotion, cither failed to notice this or was content to put up with it. *' Then send on your carriage," she said. His jaw fell at that, and had there been light by which to see him he would have looked foolish. At last, " Are we to walk ? " lie said. "Those are the lights of Oxford," she answered. "We shall be there in ten minutes." " Oh, very well," he said. " A moment, if you please." She waited while he went to the carriage and told the astonished servants to leave his baggage at the Mitre ; this understood, he put in his head and announced to his host that he would come on next day. "Your lordship must excuse me to-night," he said. " What in up ? " my lord asked, without raising his eyes or turning his head. He had taken the box and thrown nicks three times running, at live guineas the cast ; and was in the seventh heaven. " Ha ! five is the main. Now you are in it. Colonel. What did you say, George ? Not coming ! What is it ? " " An adventure." " What ! a petticoat ? " "Yes," Sir George answered, smirking. " Well, you find 'em in odd places. Take care of your- self. But shut the door, that is a good fellow. There is a d d draught." Sir George complied, and, nodding to the servants, walked back to tao woman. As he reached her the carriage with its lights whirled away, and left them in darkness. Soanc wondered if he were not a fool for his pains, and advancec- a step nearer to conviciiou when the wouuui with an impatient " Come I " started along the road ; moving at i i n 8 THE CASTLE INN. nothing eo bel^e , „ "n ! f ■™' '"' "^'"■■""' ^^e"; :>:ort^tre,;! t £:?„ri" ^"- '^^ '^"^' Sir George, no e.ce nfo, (o M \ T^ "'"' Pictnresqne. round. H be^™ to vL '■"''' '^'""""^ '' '"' '«'""=d join that n.iniatei--f„r n -..-ntiLnn tl """"''''''°'" '"'J' 'o crippled and impaired ,4' ,t I J °'''""'' "'""Sh had 8uliered, mi^^ht M „'t irr ' ■""' "'"'' "'"'™ ''' -he beo-an to reZ T / ., i^ '^ f""'""' •"• ■"''"'■"^ ? a pcor^rh a d 'o dt": „:;"" ""T '" "^""'^""^ woman-, heels ,™ a folirS r^:^,;-,""'' "'"'"'^ "' ' than a man of his vear, N„7, , k ," " ''°^ "' '"'""'' a- to contemplate rthil I ' '"i"''" '*™ ^^ '^''W entertained tri \ ! "°"' ' "■■ '''""' ""' «"' had unknown cat tLT '""""" "' "''»"''"« '" «" and ho doZd if '^JTZ:tXrr '''■"" '"■" = only adventure he l,ad pl'o , ed ^^'n' ,:",, rt^""- -^^ was one of ffallanfcrv • i> una n , ^ cariiage, vo.ue. AntTZ^ t^.as the only adventure then fa " to. tna., now the tune was come, and the A KNIGHT-ERRANT. 9 incognita and he were as much alone as the most ardent lover could wish, he felt singularly disinclined. True, the outline of her cloak, and the indications of a slender, well-formed shape which it permitted to escape, satisfied him that the postboy had nob deceived him ; bub that his companion was both young and handsome. And with this and his bargain it was to be supposed he would be content. But the pure matter-of-factncss of the girl's manner, her silence, and her uncompromising attitude, as she walked by his side, cooled whatever ardour her beauty and the reflection that he had jockeyed Berkeley were calculated to arouse ; and it was with an effort that he presently lessened the distance between them. " Et vera incessu patuit dea ! " he said, speaking in the tone between jest and earnesb which he had used before. " ' And all the goddess in her step appears.' Which means that you have the prettiest walk in the world, my dear— bub whither are you taking me ? " She went steadily on, not deigning an answer. *'But, my charmer, let us parley," he remonstrated, striving to maintain a light tono. " In a minute we shall be in the town and " " I thought that we understood one another," she answered curtly, still conl>iniiing to walk, and to look straight before her ; in which position her hood hid her face. "I am taking you where I want you." " Oh, very well," he said, shrugging his shoulders. But under his breath he muttered, " By heaven, I believe that the pretty fool really thinks— that I am going to fidit for her ! " To a man who liad supped at White's the night before, and knew his age to be the age des phi/osophes, it seemed the But to wildest fancy in the world. And big distaste "rew. break off and leave her—at any rate until he had put it 10 THE CASTLE INN. w b.T0„d question that she had „„ undcrthoaght-to break .t.d cuoatcd a d<.n-o ,„ 8„l,j„,,ato her. RohcLth ZI fore, he continued to walk beside her. over Ma.-d»I™ .! f -died e,u,, ,1 : • „, 'h rr :.,!'r;'? .-^ "'^'^° vnte,r,ty „!■ thi« Venns-,valk. his impatience 're 'M^ was not far fn,„, b„rstin. f„r„. whi i .,ddc tur'^ -.-py ,nt„ „n alley behind the cathcd^C a d X Ihe place, though poor and narrow, w,m not so, nin * stood a^^^^^^ dclcenee, and cnrs.ng the folly that had hron.dit In-n, nto such a , lace and situation, wondering what S e th al n>ea,it or in what it would end. he f^lcv,^ h' " A KNIGHT-ERRANT. 11 She opened a door on the right-hand side of the narrow passage, and led the way into a long, low room. For a moment he saw no more than two lights on a distant table, and kneeling at a chair beside them a woman with grey dishevelled hair, who seemed to be praying, her face hidden. Then his gaze, sinking instinctively, fell on a low bed between him and the woman ; and there rested on a white sheet, and on the solemn outlines — so certain in their rigidity, so unmistakable by human eyes — of a body laid out for burial. f CHAPTER II. A MISADVENTURE. abashed, tJie iatter to n«L- n.-M ? ° ^'^'^"^ ^'^^^^ and had beo'n b^^^!: To tr tr "S't 7T ^'7 '"' instinct prevailed But .JTu ^^'^ ^'^"<^^ ^ower that the sirl had Irf, hi, .i ^j '^ '™P"' ">« fo»»i of the at on^whiet'r"'"",'"'''";'' '^"'^"^"■"1 ">.* no answer, on wl c h the g,rl, w,tl, a gesture as simple as it mm 00k ed at ,,„• George. " fi„," she said ; but he s,.w that e tears were welling up in her eyes, and that her fr me was hegnnnng to tremble. " G„ ! I „.as not mysei™ Mmcd by the abrupt chan.ge, as well as by her beauty S Uorge bngered; .nuttering th.t perhaps he could help Wl '.,M "t"'''"'"'^ ™P«<="°S 'he grief which had th lat ° ' : "'■"''" ""'' ''^ '"""'i ^--J. «<% lifting tlio latch, went out into the court e ceD tie J , '"!'"'"'"' "»"'i"?»t "f H.0 common except the girl. The mother, the furniMmv the vcrv bed ou which the dead man lay, all were'uppr^prLtZ A MISADVENTURE. 15 and such aa he would expect to f.nd in the house of his under-stcward. But the girl? The girl was gloriously liandsorae ; and as eccentric aa she was beautiful. Sir George's head turned and his eyes glowed as he thought of her. He considered what a story he could make of it at White's ; and he put up his spying-glass, and looked through it to sec if the towers of the cathedral still over- hung the court. " Gad, sir ! " he said aloud, rehearsing the story, jxs much to get rid of an unfashionable sensation ho had in his throat as in punj whimsy, " I was surprised to find that it was Oxford. It should have been Granada, or Bagdad, or Florence ' I give you my word, the houris that the Montagu saw in the Hammam at -Stamboul were nothing to her ! " The persons through whom he had passed on his way to the door were still standing before the house. Glancing back when he had reached the mouth of the court, he saw that they were watching him ; and, obeying a sudden impulse of curiosity, he turned on liis heel and signed to the nearest to come to him. "Here, my man," he said, " a word with yon," The fellow moved towards him rcluccantij. and with suspicion. "Who is it lies dead tlierc ? " Sir George asked. " Your honour knows," the man answered cautiously. " No, I don't." " Then you will be the only one in Oxford that docs not," the fellow replied, eyeing him oddly. " Maybe," Soane answered with impatience. " Take it so. and answer the question." " It is Masterson, that was the porter at Pembroke." "Al And how did ne die ? " '■ That is asking," the man .answered, looking shiftily ^bout. " And it is an ill busiuessj and 1 want no trouble. 16 THE CASTLE INN. Oh, well"— he continued, as Sir George pat something in his hand—" thank your honour, I'll drink your health. Yes, it is Mustcrson, poor man, sure enough ; and two days ago he was as well as you or I — saving your presence. lie was on the gate that evening, and thero was a supper on one of the staircases : all the bloods of the College, your honour will understand. About an hour before midnight the Master sent him to tell the gentlemen he could not sleep for the noise. After that it is not known just what happened, but the party had him in and gave him wine ; and whether he went then and returned again when the company were gone is a question. Any way, he was found in the morning, cold and dead at the foot of the stairs, and his neck bro^ien. lb is said by some a trap was laid for him on the staircase. And if it was," the man continued, after a pause, his true feeling finding sudden vent, " it is a black shame that the law does not punisu it ! But the coroner brought it in an accident." Sir George shrugged his shoulders. Then, moved by curiosity and a desire to learn something about the girl, " His diuighter takes it hardly," he said. The man grunted. " Ah," he said, " maybe she has need to. Your honour does not come from him ? " " F '( m whom ? I come from no one." " To he sure, sir, I was forgetting. But, seeing you with her — but there, you are a stranger." Soane would have liked to ask him his meaning, but felt that he had condescended enough, lie bade the man a curt good-night, therefore, and turning away passed quickly into St. Aldate's Street. Thence it was but a'step to the Mitre, where he found his baggage and servant awaiting him. In those days distinctions of dross were still clear and unmistnkalilo. Between the peruke — often forty guineas' worth— the tie-wig, the scratch, and the man who went A auaADxiiNTl lE. 17 content with a little p« vder, the i rvals were mcasntable. Ruffles cost five pou i pair ; u,,d velvet- and silks, cut probably in Paris, were morinn- " Mr. Thomasson rose. 'M\'hat-what is it, I wondcr'v " he said, a trifle nervously. A dull sound, as of a hive of bees stirred to anger, was becoming audible. " Devil if I know ! " Sir George answered. " Open the window." But the Reverend Frederick, after approaching the wmdow with the intention of doing so, seemed disinclined to go nearer, and hovered about it. " Really," he said, no longer hiding his discomposure, '* I fear that it is somethin<>-- something in the nature of a riot. I fear that that which I anticipated has happened. If my lionourable friend had only taken my advice and remained here I " And he wrun^ his hands without disguise. *^ " Why, what has he to do u-ifh ,•*• s » Qoiiia o-i-;! curiously. 24> THE CASTLE INN. "He-he had an accident the other night," Mr. Thomas- son answered. "A monstrous nuisance for him. He and his noble friend, Lord Almeric Doyley, played a little trick on a— on one of the College servants. The clumsy fellow- it is marvellous how awkward that class of persons is— fell down the stairs and hurt himself." " Seriously ? " "Somewhat. Indeed— in fa3t he is dead. And now there is a kind of feeling about it in the town. I persuaded Mr. Dunborough to take up his quarters here for the night, but he is so spirited he would dine abroad. Xow, I fear, I really fear, he may be in trouble ! " " If it is he they are hooting in St. Aldate's," Sir George answered drily, " I should say he was in trouble ! But tn my time the gownsmen would have sallied out and brought him oir before this. And given those yelpers a cracked crown or two ! " The i-oar of voices in the iian-ow streets was growin^r clearer and more threatening. - Ye-es ? " said the Reverend Frederick, moving about the room, distracted between his anxiety and his ret-pect for his companion. " Perhaps so. But thire is a monstrous low, vulgar sec in College nowa- days ; ji man of spirit lias no chance with them. Yesterday they had the insMlencc to break into my noble friend's rooms and throw his furniture out of window ! And, I vow, would have gone on to but Lord ! this is frightful ! \Vhat a shocking howling! My dear sir, my very dear Sir George," Mr. Thomasson continued, his voice tremulous and his fat cheeks grown on a sudden loose and flabby, "do you think that there is any danger ?'" "Danger?" Sir George answered, with cruel relish— he had gone to the window, and was looking out. "AVell, I should say that ]\radam Venus there would certainly have to stand shot. Tf vmi nvp u'iop vr\'i —in ~-^ -^ £ *" *• ''^ "^"^ ^oa iiiii jjui/ out some of TUTOR AND PUPILS—OLD STYLE. 25 those candles. Thev are pn^Prlno- fi,^ i m ., , •' ^'^^ eriLeiing the lane now. Garl IZZo! ' *'"' 'r '"' "' "P'™ '» •-^- 1 ""'"not give much for your window-giasa ! " Mr. Thou,as5on, wl,o l.ad hastened to talce the advice he If r1 "',' "" ^""<^'™ "■■' »-• ">»' -*- ? foraref ''»'''"^««. " "">? '- L^nd., and .noaneS co:;*:v"Vh':e'r't;:e!:i'" s:'-d " "T "?■ '"» dreadful I " "''• <■«"■' '■'="'•' "^^ i' And certainly, even in a man of firmer coura™ a little trepidation might have Ixen pardoned. As tl!e ui n cro>^ struggling and Jostling, poured from the roIi: ^ of sonifdt 7. '.1 ""'?"■ ™"""^^ "f I'"^^'"'- Lane, the sound of lis hooting gathered sudden volume, and from an : :t;. tif™"'"'"'- "■' 1 " '-'""'^ ^™' ^-"'^ '" ^ «-- h, k, as nothing ,s so pitiless, not g ,o unreasoning, s„ Uie sound of its voice is a note that appals all hut" the Ludiest, Soanc was no coward. A year before he had been present at the siege of Bedford House by t le Spital- piU d, while the gentlemen of the clubs and colTee-lionseB looked on as at a play , but even he felt a slackening of the p.. se M he istened. And with the Reverend Ficfei ck sm K ! 1 • ' ° r ""' '''"""' f"^ <'-'S"-- ^"len the smoking glare of the links which the ringleaders carried abt^l m T ""'. r'^^ "" "" ""»»"» ''"•■«-. l'^ 'ookcd ow d L f •■' "I ' '''' "■"' ''«<> »"■»■'>■ '«k«' '«o steps towards the door, when it opened yol"er"'on'l'!?i """! "^""' ^''' ^'""'''' "8^' " » ""'« juiiiigei. une. after o-iwnino- v-^,vi-i - -, - i u • ^ > thowm,^^^ 11 ," ,° ° louiij, passed hurriediy to the window and looked out ; the other sank into the nearest If; 26 THE CASTLE INN. chair, and, fanning himself with his hat, muttered a querulous oath. " My dear lord ! " cried the Reverend Frederick, hastening to iiis side— and it is noteworthy t!iat he forgot even hia panic in the old habit of reverence— " What an escape I To think that a life so valuable as your lordship's should lie at the mercy of those wretches ! I shudder at Lne thought of what might have happened." " Fan me, Tommy," was the answer. And Lord Almeric, an excessively pale, excessively thin young man, handed hia hat with a gesture of exhaustion to the obsequious tutor. " Fan me ; that is a good soul. Positively I am suffocated with the smell of those creatures ! AVorse than horses, I assure you. There, again ! What a pother about' a common fellow! 'Pou honour, I don't know what the world is coming to I " "Nor I," liv. Thomasson answered, hanging over him with assiduity and concern on his countenance. "It is not to be comprehended." '• No, 'pou honour it is not ! " my lord agreed. And then, feeling a little, recovered, " Dunborough," he asked, "what are they doing ? " " Hanging you, my dear fellow ! " the other answered from the window, where he had taken his place within a pace of Soane, but without discovering him. He spoke in the full boisterous tone of one in perfect health and spirits, perfectly satisfied with himself, and perfectly heedless of others. "Oh, I say, you are joking.?" my lord answered. " Hanging me ? Oh, ah ! I see. In effigy ! " " And your humble seiTant," said Mr. Dunborough. " I tell you, Tommy, we had a near run for it. Curse their impudence, they made us sweat. For a very little I would give the rascals something to howl for." f M TUTOE AKD PUPILS— OLD STYLE. 27 Perhaps he meant no more tlian to put a bold face on it before his creature.-. But unhickily the rabble, ^^1lich had come provuled with a cart and gallows, a him^nv.n, and a paunchy, red-faced follow iu canonicals, and which hitherto had busied itself with the mock execution, found leisure at this moment to look up at the window Catchmg Bight of the object of their anger, they vented their rage in a roar of execration, so much louder than all that had gone before that it brought the sentence which Mr. Thomasson was uttering to a quavering end. But the demonstration, far from intimidating Mr. Dunborough, pro- voked him to fury. Turning from the sea of brandished hands and upturned faces, he strode to a tal-Ie, and in a moment returned. The window was open, he flung it wider, and stood erect, in iull view of the mol). The sight produc(d a momentary silence, of which he took advantage. "Now, you traitors, begone!" ho cried harshly. " To your hovels, and leave gentlemen to tlicir wine, or it will be the worse for yon. Come, march ! We have had enough of your fooling, and arc tired of it." The answer was a shout of "Cain ! " and "Murderer ' " One voice cried "Ferrers!" and this caught the fancy of the crowd. In a moment a hundred were crying, "Ay, Ferrers ! Come down, and we'll Ferrers you ! " He stood a moment irresolute, glaring at them ; then something struck and shattered a pane of the window beside him, and the fetid smell of a bad egg filled the room At the sound Mr. Thomasson uttered a cry and shrank farther into the darkness, while Lord Almeric rose hastily and looked about for a refuge. But Mr. Dunborough did not flinch. " D~n you, you rascals, you will have it, will you ? " he cried : nnd in thp f^.ll•lr,,'^"" « ~i,_^_ -i- i u ^ sr — Ill n;e u,hn.ntno a. aunvp Click was heard. He raised his hand. A shriek in the street below answered the 28 THE CASTLE INN. movement ; some wlio stooil nearest saw that he hold a Ijistol and gave the in formation to otliers, and there was a wild rush to escape, ihit before the hamnif .• droppei], a hand closed on his, and Soane, crying, " Are yo i mad, sir ? " dragged him back, Dunborough liad not entertained the least idea that any one stood near him, and the surprise was as complete as the check. After an instin-ctive attempt to wrench away his hand, he stood glaring at the person who held him. " Curse you ! " he said. " Who are you ? And what do you mean ? " " Not to sit by and see murder done," Sir George answered firmly. " To-morrow you will thank me." " For the present I'll thank you to release my hand, ' the other retorted in a freezing tone. Nevertheless, Sir George thought that the delay had sobered him, and complied. "Much obliged to you," Dunborough continued. "Now perhaps you will walk into the next room, where there is a light, and we can be free from that scum." Mr. Thomasson had already set the example of a prudent retreat thither; and Lord Almeric, with a feeble, '* Lord, this is very surprising ! But I think that the gentleman is right, Dunny," was hovering in the doorway. Sir George signed to Mr. Dunborough to go first, but he would not, and Soane, shrugging his shoulders, preceded him. The room into which they all crowded was no more than a closet, containing a dusty bureau propped on three legs, a few books, and Mr. Thomasson's robes, boots, and wig-stand. It was so small that when they were all, in it, they stood perforce close together, and had the air of persons sheltering from a storm. Thi^ nearnesp, the glare of the lamp on their faces, and the mean surroundings gave a kind of added force to Mr. Dunborough 's rage. For a moment after entering he could not speak ; he had dined largely, and sat long after IS a TDTOR AND PUPILS-OLD STYLE. 29 dmner ; a„2,^Ti;;:rLit;^irifLr: known to you. Permit „e to iutmluce him." '" soa„: r '■: • : r ::;* :^ ^ -"■!' «-«» stin.'k Si,. r„„. ."^ ' ""* "J"''''' »s thought he tte fl ''■ "■'" "" "' ^"'''™ -"" I"". >%l.tly in so.!' siHn:':sr' ""^ '" "■" '='™*°"- - ^•'"> ■"- ^^ "Is not that cnouffh?" m'Pfl f>m r^M i Mr. an,^ •> ,'' ^'^®^' '"6 other, drown n<' LoHi poteaon'ohbr "''"'""" 1 "°'™-^"^ '-" ^'"- • .no:p„jr7t,:e:rn:-:^,^^^^^^^^^^^^ him"' '^^^Mf n'T' '•': ''■■'""™™ '■'« f»=» «» 'f it stun, h m. Mr. Dunboi-oagh," he said tremblin..-but it ,v„. w,th pass,on, " if I thought jou were sober °„d >• uld no repent to-morrow what you have done to-ni.d,t_° n,lL7 , ', '" ^■'""' ""I'^'inonoe ! You have you fgi";;." "^' ""' ^-^ »-' -™'™' i'- Must ; st'L finely '""Hviirr' ^°;; '°"?''^''^" "^ •^^"■■s^ »"««™<' n'miy. 1 will be neither Lord Byron nor his victim These gentlemen will bear me out so far. For he r st ^f Jou are of the same mind to-morrow i, „• n K- foT, ' ' 1 not for you to ask a meeting" " ' fof ™" u.id 80 THE CASTLE INN. "At your service, sir," Mr. Dunborouj^h gaid, with a sarcastic bow. *' But suppose, to save trouble in the morninj^, we fix time uud ])]Hce now." "Ei,t,dit— in jraj,nlaIoii Fields," Soa;:o answered curtly. "If I do not hear from you, I am staying at the Mitre Inn. i\[r. Tiiouiasjon, I bid you gooJ-niglit. My lord, your sorvaiit." And with that, and though Mr. Thomasson, wringing his liands over what had occurred and the injury to himself that might comt of it, attempted some feeble remonstrances, Sir George bowed sternly, took his hat and went down. He found his chair at the foot of the stairs, but in considera- tion of the crowd he would not use it. The college porters, indeed, pressed him to wait, and deuiurred to opening even the wicket. But he had carried forbearance to the verge, and dreaded the least appearance of timidity ; and, insisting, got his way. The rabble admired so fine a gentleman, and so resolute a bearing, gave place to him with a jest, and let him pass unmolested down the lane. It was well that they did, for he had come to the end of liis patience. One man stops out of a carriage, picks up a handkerchief, and lives to wear a Crown. Auother takes the same step ; it lands him in a low squabble from which he may extricate himself with safety, but scarcely with an accession of credit. Sir George belonged to the inner circle of fashion, to which neither rank nor wealth, nor parts, nor power, of necessity admitted. In the sphere in which he moved, men seldom quarrelled and as seldom fought. Of easiest habit among themselves, they left bad manners and the duello to political adventurers and cubbish peers, or to the gentlemen of the quarter sessions and the local ordinary. It was with a mighty disgust, therefore, that Sir George considered ahke the predicament into which a caprice had harried him, and the insuiTcrablo young Hector whoin fate TUTOR AND I'UPILS— OLD STYLE. 81 had made Lis nntn-onist. Thoy would laugli at White's ai.o)Mvonld make a jest of it over the cakes and fruit at Betty s. Sehvyn wcul.l turn a quip. And yet the thiuL^ was beyond a joke, lie n.ust he a tar^^efc ii,st, u„d a butt after- wards— if any after wai-ds tlicre wore. As he en^,ered the Mitre, sick wi'th chagrin, and telliucj hinisolt he might have known that somcthin- of this kind ;vould come of stoopin- to vulvar couipany; he bethought 1: a— lor tlie first tune in an liour— of the girl " Lord I " he said, thinkingof her request, her passion, and her splendid eyes ; and he stood. Fur the age dcs phi/osoj>h,s, destiny seemed to be taking too large a part in the play. This must he the very man with whom she had striven to embroil hun! His servant's voice broke in on his thoughts. "At what hour will your honour please to be called? "he asked as he carried off the laced coat and wig. Soane stifled a groan. " Called ? '' he said. " At half-past SIX. Don't stare, booby ! Half-past six, I said. And do you go now, ni shift for myself. But first put out mv despatch-case, and see there is pen and ink. It's done'^ Then be off, and when you come in the morning bring the landlord and another with you." The man lingered. "Wiiryour honour want horses?" lie said. "I don't know. Yes! No! Well, not until noon. And where is my sword." " I was taking it down to clean it sir " "Then don't take it ; I will look Jo it' myself. And mind you, call me at the time I said.*' i CHAPTER IV. PEKPINQ TOM OF WALLINGFORD. To be an attorncy-at-law, avid of practice and p.ttiug none ; to he called Peepinrr Tom of Wallin,!,^ford, in the place wliere yoii would fain trot about ])nsy and respected ; to be the sole support of an old mother, 'and to be come almost to the toe of the stockiiifr-these circumstances nii^ht seem to indicate an existence and prospects bare, not to say arid. Eventually they presented themselves in 'that light to the person most nearly concerned— by name Mr. Peter Fishwiclc ; and movinp; him to grasp at the forlorn hope presented by a vacant stewardship at one of the collegea, brought him by coach to Oxford. There he spent three days and his penultimate guineas in canvassing, begging, bowing, and smirking ; and on the fourth, which happened to be tlie very day of Sir George's arrival in the city, was duly and Jiandsomely defeated without the honour of a vote. Mr. Fishwick had expected no other resulc ; and so far all was well. But he had a mother, and that mother enter- tained a fond belief that local jealousy and nothing else kept down her son in the place of his birtli. She had built high hopes on this expedition ; she had thought that the Oxford gentlemen would be prompt to recognise his merit ; and for her sake the sharp-featured lawyer went back to the Mitre a rueful man. He had taken a lodging there with intent to dazzle the town, and not because his means were equal to it ; and already the bill wfio-hprl iir,r.T, ^,-,« «„ T)., ^J PEEPING TOM OF WALLINGFORD. 33 nature as cheerful a frossip as ever wore a scratch wi- and hvcd to be inquisitive, he sat nmui throu-h the cvenin- and hardy h'stened while the huidlcrd talked big of his .ruost upsti'irs, his curricle and fashion, the sums he lost at White's and the plate in his dressinj^-cnsc. ' Nevertheless, the lawyer would not have been Peter Fishwick If ho ha.l not presently felt the stirrin-s of curiosity, or, thus incited, failed to be on the move between the stairs and the landing when Sir George came in and passed up. The attorney's ears were as sharp as a ferret's nose, and he was notably long in lighting his humble dip at a candle which by chance stood outside Sir George's door Hence it happened that Soane-who after dismissing his servant had gone fur a moment into the adjacent chamber- heard a slight noise in the room he had left ; and, returning quickly to learn what it was, found no one, but observed the outer door shake as if some one tried it. His suspicions aroused, he was still staring at the door when it moved again, opened a very little way, and before his astonished eyes admitted a small man in a faded black suit, who as soon as he had squeezed himself in, stood bowing with a kir" of desperate audacity. iallo ! " said Sir George, staring anew. '« "Vyimt do vou want, my man ? " The intruder • Ivanced a pace or two, and nervously crumpled his hat in his hands. " If your honour pleases,'' he said, a smile feebly propitiative appearing in his faco " I shall be glad to be of service to you." * " WT» ''' ' " '"^^ ^^ ^'"'^'' ''"''"= ''" perplexity. ;an the way of my profession," the little man answered fixing Sir George with two eyes as bright as birds' ; which eyes som^^what adeemed his small keen features, "Your ponoui v,m about to make your will." C.I. D 34 THE CASTLE INN. " My will ? " Sir Georj?e cried, amazed ; « I was about to " and then in an outburst of rage, *' and if I was what the devil business is it of yours ? '' he cried. " And who are you, sir ? " The little man spread out his hands in deprecation. ''I ?" he said. " I am an attorney, sir, and everybody's business is my business." Sir George gasped. " Yon are an attorney ! '' he cricrt, "And— and everybody's business is your ousincas ! By God, this IS too much ! " And seizing the bell-rope he was about to overwhelm the man of law with a torrent of abuse, before ho had him put out, when the absurdity of the appeal and perhaps a happy touch in Peter's last answer struck him ; he held his hand, and hesitated. Then, <' What is your name, sir ? " he said sternly. " Peter Fishwick," the attorney answered humbly. "And how the devil did you know— that I wanted to make a will ? " "I was going upstairs," the lawyer explained. "And the door was ajar." " And you listened ? " " I wanted to hear," said Peter with simplicity. " But what did yon hear, sir ? " Soane retorted, scarcely able to repress a smile. " I heard your honour tell your servant to lay out pen and paper, and to bring the landlord and another upstairs when he called you in the morning. And I heard you bid him leave your sword. And putting two and two together, respected sir," Peter continued manfully, "and kr.owing that It is only of a will you need three witnesses, I said to myself, being an attorney " "And everybody's business being your business/' Sir George muttered irritably. e, sir— it is a will, I said, he is for making. " To be sur jusiness PEEPING TOM OF WALLINGFORB. 35 And with your honour's leave," Peter conchided with SDirit, "111 make it." " "Confound your impudence," Sir George answered, and stared at him, marvelling at the little man's shrewdness Peter smiled in a sickly fashion. - If your honour would but a low me ? " he said. He saw a great chance slipping irom him, and his voice was plaintive. It moved Sir George to compassion. "Where is your practice ? " he asked ungraciously. The attorney felt a surprising inclination to candour. "At Walhngford," he said, « ,t should be. But " and there he stopped, shrugging his shoulders, and leaving the rest unsaid. ° " Can you make a will ? " Sir George r.-torted "No man better," said Peter with confidence ; and c" he instant he drew a chair to the table, seized the pen, and bent the nib on his thumbnail ; then Le said brisklv " I wait your commands, sir." Sir George stared in some embarrassment-he had not expected to be taken so literally ; but, after a moment's hesi- tation, reflectmg that to write down his wishes with his own hand would give him more trouble, and that he might as well t lust this stranger as that, he accepted the situation. - Take down ^ hat I wish, then," he said. « Put it into form after- wards, and bring ,t to me when I rise. Can you be secret ? " iryme, Peter answered with enthusiasm. "Forajrood client I would bite ofiF my tongue." ^ "Very well, then, listen !" Sir George said. And pre- sently, after some humming and thinking, "I wish to leave all my real property to the eldest son of my uncle, Anthony ooane," he continued. ^ n^^t^": ^^'^"Id already in existence, I presume? Not " But~?''""'"^ ijecessary,- the attorney continued glibly. D 2 36 THE CASTLE INN. ' ' " I do not know," said Sir George. " Ah ! " said the lawyer, raising his pen and knitting his brows while he looked very learnedly into vacancy. " The child is expected, but you have not yet heard, sir, that " " I know nothing about the child, nor whether there is a child," Sir George answered testily. " My uncle may be dead, unmarried, or alive and married — what difference does it make ? " " Certainty is very necessary in these things," Peter replied severely. The pen in his hand, he became a diiTerent man. " Your uncle, Mr. Anthony Soane, as I understand, is alive ? " " He disappeared in the Scooch troubles in '45," Sir George reluctantly explained, " was disinherited in favour of my father, sir, and has not since been heard from." The attorney grew rigid with alertness ; he was like nothing so much as a dog, expectant at a rat-hole. " Attainted ? " he said. "No!" said Sir George. " Outlawed ? " " No." The attorney collapsed : no rat in the hole. •* Dear me, dear me, what a sad story ! " he said ; and then remembering that his client had profited, " but out of evil — ahem ! As I uuderetand, sir, you wish all your real property, including the capital mansion house and demesne, to go to the eldest eon of your uncle IVIr. Anthony Soane in tail, remainder to tlie second sou in tail, and, failing sons, to daughters — the usual settlement, in a word, sir." "Yes." " No exceptions, sir." "None." " A^ery good," the attorney answered with the air of a man t; « n a a ai As I PEEPING TOM OF WALLINGFORD. 37 satisfied so far. "And failing issue of your uncle? To whom then, Sir George ? " " To the Earl of Chatham." Mr. Fishwick jumped in his seat ; then bowed profoundly " Indeed ! Indeed ! How very interesting ! " he murmured under h,8 breath. " Very remarkable ! Very remarkable, and flattering." Sir George stooped to explain. " I have no near relations " he said shortly. "Lord Chatham-he M-as then Mr Pitt -was the executor of my grandfather's will, is connected with me by marriage, and at one time acted as my guardian." •' Mr. Fishwick licked his lips as if he tasted somethino- reiy good. This was business indeed ! These were names with a vengeance ! His foce shone with s,.tisfaction ; he acquired a sudden stiffness of the spine. "Very good, sir," he said. \ e-ry good," he said. " In fee simple, I understand ? " "Ye^." "Precisely. Precisely ; no uses or trusts .? No. Unneces- sary, of courso. Then as to p^^rsonalty, Sir George ? " "A legacy of five hundred guineas to George Augustus Sdwyn, Esquire, of Mi-tson, Gloucestershire. One of the same amount to Sir Cliarles Bunbury, Baronet. Five hundred gumeas to each of my executors ; and to each of these four a mourninjr rino-. And Mr. Fish- " Certainly, sir. All very nob'e gifts ! " wick smacked his lips. For a moment Sir George looked his offence ; then seeino. that the attorney's ecstasy was real and unaffected, he smiled! io my land-steward two hundred guineas," he said ; "to niy houscsteward one hundred guineas, to the housekeep,o paces. " Stay, sir," he repeated ; *• I owe you a sliot ! Prime afresh. Reload, sir, and " But Dunborough, blind and deaf with passion, broke in on him unheeding, and as if he carried no weapon ; and crying furiously, "Guard yourself!" plunged his half- shortened sword at the lower part of Sir George's body. The spectators held their breath and winced ; the assault was so sudden, so determined, that it seemed that nothing could save Sir George from a thrust thus delivered. He did escape, however, by a bound, quick as a cat's ; but the point of Duuborough's weapon ripped up his breeches on the hip, the hilt rappod against the bone, and the two men came together bodily. For a moment they wrestled, and seemed to be going to fight like bea^^ts. Then Sir George, his left forearm under t..e other's chin, flung him three paces away ; and shifting his sword into his right hand — hitherto he had been unable to change it — he stopped Duuborough's savage rush with the point, and beat him ^flP.. „,1 1 J. vii aiivi xvcpi, ijim uu — paiijili^ iiiS iUiigca, UiiU uOlug IJIS utmost the while to avoid dealing him a fatal wound. Soane I li I'i I 46 THE CASTLE INN. was so much the better swordsman — as was immediately apparent to all the onlookers— that ho no longer feared for himself ; all his fears were for his opponent, the firo and fury of whoso attacks he could not explain to himself, until he found thoni fl:i«r,i?ing; and fla<,'nrin,ir f^o fast that he sought a reason. Then Dunboroutrh's point beginning to waver, and liis foet to slip, Sir dcorgr's eyes were opened; he discerned a crimson patch spread and spread on the other's aide— wlicrc unnoticed Dunborough had kept his hand— and with a cry for help he sprang forward in time to catch the falling man in his arms. As the others ran in, the surgeons quickly and silently. Lord Almeric more slowly, and with exclamations. Sir George lowered his burden gently to the ground. The instant it was done, Morris touched his arm and signed to him to stand back. "You can do no good. Sir George," he urged. " He is in skilful hands. He would have it ; it was his own fault. I can bear witness that you did your best not to touch him." " I did not touch him," Soauc muttered. The second looked his astonishment. " How ? " he said. "You don't mean to say that he is not wounded? See there ! " And he pointed to the blood which dyed the shirt. They were cutting the linen away. " It was the pistol," Sir George answered. Major Morris's face fell, and he groaned. " Good G— d ! " he said, staring before him. " What a position I am in I I suppose— I suppose, sir, his pistol was not primed ? " " I am afraid not," Soane answered. He was still in his shirt ,and bareheaded ; but as he spoke one of several onlookers, whom the clatter of steel had drawn to the spot, brought his coat and waistcoat, and held them while he put them on. Another handed his hat and wig, a third brought his shoes and knelt and buckled them ; a THE MEETING, 47 fourth his kerchief. All these services he accepted freelv and was unconscious of thcm-as unconscious ns he wns of the enger deference, the rn(.rl,id interest, ^vi(l, which they waited on him, eyed him, and Ktarcd at him. His oun thoughts, eyes, attention, were fix-.l on the .roup about the fallen man ; and when the elder mugeon glauccd over his shoulder, as wanting help, hu sf'^Jo to them. " If we had a chair here, and could move him at one- " the smug gentlomm whispered, " 1 think we might do " ' ;; I have a chair. It is at the gate," h.s colleague answered. Have you ? A good thought of youiH ! " "The credit should lie-witl: .ly employer," the youncrer man answered in a low voicP. " h >,vas his thought ; here It comes. Sir George, will you be good enough " But then, seeing the baronet's look of mute anxiety, he broke off ^^ It IS dangerous but there is hope-fan- hope," he answered' Do you, my dear sir, go to your .ni., and I will send thither when he is safely housed. You ca;,> do no good here and your presence may excite him when he recovers from' the swoon." Sir George, seeing the wisdom of the advice, nodded assent ; and remarking for the first time the sensation of which he W'as the centre, was glad to make the host of his way towards the gates. He had barely readied them- hung on his footsteps-when Lord Almeric, breathless and agitated, came up with him. And then, without waiting for an answer : - What would rnwT'ii'i'\''''^^'^^^'^^- "E*^? What do yo thmk ? It will be the devil and all for me, you know."' Sir George looked askance at nim, contempt m his eye. 1 cannot aAviae vn., " k« «„: j .c-c- ^ ^ remain heve? ' " ' "^ ' ^'' "^^ ^""''^ ""^ '^•'^' ^ 48 THE CASTLE INN. Il ' His lordship was quite taken aback. " No, you don't ? " he said. " Remain here ! — You don't mean it." " I usually mean — what I say," Soaue answered in a tone that he thou<^lit must close the conversation. But Lord Almcric kept up with him. "Ay, but will you ? " he babbled in vacuous admiration. " Will you really stay here ? Now that is uncommon bold of you ! I should not have thought of that — of staying here, I mean. I should go to France till the thing blew over. I don't know that I shall not do so now. Don't you think I should be wise, Sir George ? j\Iy position, you know. It is uncommon low, is a trial, and " Sir George halted so abruptly that will-he, nill-he, the other went on a few paces. '• My lord, you sliould know your own affairs besi," he said in a freezing tone. "And, as I desire to be alone, I wish your lordship a very good day." My lord had never been so much astonished in his life. " Oh, good morning," he said, staring vacantly, " good morning ! " but by the time he had framed the words, Sir George was a dozen paces away. It was an age when great ladies wept out of wounded vanity or for a loss at cards — yet made a show of their children lying in state ; when men entertained the wits and made their wills in company, before they bowed a graceful exit from the room and life. Doubtless people felt, feared, hoped, and perspired as they do now, and had their ambi- tions apart from Pam and the loo table. Nay, Rousseau was printing. But the " Nouvelle lleloise," though it was beginning to be read, had not yet set the mode of sensibility, or sent those to rave of nature who all their lives had known nothing but art. The suppression of feeling, or rather the cultivation of no feeling, was still the mark of a gentleman ; his maxim ; honoured alike at Medmcnham and Marly, to pninv — tf> cniov. ho. fclie cost to others whi>t it miirlih. >,4 THE MEETING. 49 Bred in such a school, Sir George should have vieu-cd what had happened with polite iudiflerence, and put himself ou no further than was courteous, or might serve to set him ngh w, h a jury, ,f the worst came to the worst. But whether because he was of a kindlier stuff than the common' 8or of fashionables, or was too young to be quite spoiled, he took the th.ng that had occurred with unexpected heavi- ness ; and, reaching his inn, hastened to Ins room to escape alike the cunos.ty that dogged him and the syn.pathy th.'t, for a faie gentleman, is never far to seek. To do him ius- tice, lus anxiety was not for himself, or the consequence to hnnself wh.eh at the worst were not likely to exceed a nonnnal erdict of manshuighter, and at the best would be an acquittal ; the former had been Lord Byron's h.t, the at er Mr. Brown's, and ea.h had killed his man. Sir Geor4 had more savoir-faire than to trouble himself about this ; but about .,s opponent and his fate he felt a hauuting-and, as Lord Almenc would have said, a low-concern that would ct him neither rest nor sit. In parti.udar, when he remoni- bered the trifle from which all had arisen, he felt remorse and sorrow ; which grew to the point of horror when he recaled the last look which Dunborough, swooning and helpless, had cast in his face. In one of these paroxysms he was walking the room when the elder surgeon, who had attended his opponent to the •;;d, wa. announced. Soane still retained so much of his le hah, as to show an unmoved front; the man of the alpe houg t him hard and fdt himself repelled ; and hough he had come from the sick-room hot-foot and laden " Hut 1 thought that you might like to hear, sir," he con- tinued, nursing bis hat. and sp-akn- -. if th' Zn fif i.Khv .. ~^ . . ' r'-"^''o "S 11 tnc matter were of .t le „,„u.o„., .. that Mr. I1u„boro„Rl, i, „s-„s n-cll «, E 50 THE CASTLE INN. I B ! II f i < »t can be expected. A serious case— I might call it a most serious case," he continued, puffing out his cheeks. '■' But with care— with care I think we may restore him. I cannot say more tlmn that." " Has the ball been extracted ? " *' It hjus, and so fur well. And the chair beiug on the spot, Sir George, so that he was moved without a inoment's delay— for which I believe we have to thank Mr.— Mr. - " Fishwick," Soanc suggested. "^To be sure— M«^ is so much gaine.l. Which reminds me," tlie smug geutleuum continued, " that Mr. Attorney begged me to convey his duty and inform you that he had made the needful arrangements and provided bail, so that you are at liberty to leave, Sir George, at any hour." " Ah ! " Soane said, marvelling somewhat. " I shall stay here, nevertheless, until I hear that Mr. Dunborou^h is out of danger." ° "An impulse that does you credit, sir," the surgeon said impressively. - These aUairs, alas ! are very greatly to be "They are d d inconvenient," Sir George drawled. He IS not out of danger yet, I suppose ? " The surgeon stared and puffed anew. "Certainly not sir," he sai... " Ah ! And where have you placed him ? " " The Honourable Mr. , the sufferer ? " " To be sure ! Who else, man ? " Soane asked impatiently. "In some rooms at Magdalen," the doctor answered breathing hard. And then, " Is it your wish that I should report to you to-mor^-ow, sir ? " " You will oblige me. Thank you. Good-day." CHAPTER VI. A FISH OUT OP WATER. Sir George spent a hnrr day in his own company, and heedless that ou the surgeon's authority he passed abroad for a hard man and a dashed unfeehiig fellow, dined on Lord Lyttelton's " Life of King Henry the Second," which was a new book in those days, and the fashion ; and supped on gloom and good resolutions. He proposed to call and inquire after his antagonist at a decent hour in the morning, and if the report proved favourable, to go on to Lord -% in the afternoon. But his suspense was curtailed, and his inquiries were converted into a matter of courtesy, by a visit wliich he received after breakfast from Mr. Thomasson. A glance at the tutor's smiling, unctuous face was enough. Mr. Thomasson also had had his dark hour— since to be mixed up with a fashionable fracas was one thing, and to lose a valuable and iuflueutial pupil, the apple of his mother's eye, was another ; but it was past, and he gushed over with gratulations. " My dear Sir George," he cried, running forward and extendmg his hands, " how can I express ray thankfulness for your escape ? I am told that the poor dear fellow fought with a iury perfectly superhuman, and had you given ground must have run you through a dozen times. Let us be thankful that the result waa otherwise." And he cast un his eyes, " E 2 1 1 52 THE CASTLE INN. « I an. Sir George said, regarding him rather grimly. I^do not know that Mr. Dunborongh shares the feeling/ The dear man ! " the tutor answered, not a whit tde bail and pronounces him oat of daziger." " lam ghid to hear it," Soane answered heartily. '« Then now I can get away." ^ ' "^lolo.fer cried Mr. Thomasson in his happiest vein And then with a roguish air, which some very young men found captivating, but which his present' companln Btomached with difficulty, " I will not say that yon hTve come-off the better, after all, Sir George," L ^^tZl ' "No," said the tutor roguishly. "Tut-tut. These 'T' T"^i- I''' ''' ^^ ^ ^^-^--^ 'y hook or crook " stance/" ' ''^' '""^ ''^^^'^'- "^"^ ^^^ ^^'''^ '^^' •'His Chloe-and a very obdurate, disdainful Chloe at ihat-has come to nurse him," the tutor answered grin sL\ '^^'\rT'' ^"■^^■^^^pp'"^ piece yo:"';r; Sir Gcorge-tiiat I will swear !-and would do you no d Z But"^;?" J' ''-''''' '^^^^ ^-^ -"^h -terTo see C ail Jr ^^^\?" ^' '^'"^^' ^' ^''^ '^«t h^r for good and all-there was that accident, you understand. And now a httle blood lost-and she is at his pillow ' " Sir George reddened at a sudden thought he had. " And her father unburicd!" he cried, rising to his feet. Tl^ Macarom was human after ail. Mr Thomasson stared in aster ishment. - You know ' " alieady ? F,e ! tie ! And all London to choose from ' " bn.t! l!?::'^' ''''^'y '-''^''•'^'^ "^^"d her father not 'And This not A PISH OUT OF WATER. 53 " Yes," M V. Thomnsson answered with siinph'oity " Hp was buried this morning. Oh, that is all right " "This morning? And the girl went from that- Dunborough's bedside?" Sir George exclaimed in indignation. "It was a piece of the oddest luck," Mr. Thomasson answered, smirking and not in the leost comprehending the others fooling. «' He was lodged in Magdalen yesterday • Ihis morning a messenger was despatched to Pembroke fo^ nursed in lombroke, and they sent for her to help. But she was thac minute homo from the burial, and would not go. 1 hen up steps the girl and ' I'll go,' says she-heaven know« why or what took hor, except the contrariness " Moman. However, there she is! D'ye see?" And Mr. Thomasson winked. voZ77'" ''"'^ '^''; *^™'*'"^' ''"'•'■"« "' '"'». " I ^'^ that you re a d d rnscal ! " The tutor, easy a„d smiling, protested. "Fie Sir core-ft." ho cni'ri "ithout acbate J, protest. ^«w ,t di..gusted bin,. "Faugh raani" ctszL ■ " "?r 'r ' ^"» ''"•<™ - «» -0 i I! (II ■''■'It, n- If 54 THE CASTLE INN. But Mr. Thomasson, who had borne abuse of himself with Christian meekness, could not hear that unmoved. "My dear Sir George, my dear friend," he urged very seriously, and with a shocked face, "you should not say things like that of his lordship. You really should not I My lord is a most excpli.'nt and " " Pure ass ' '' said So&ne with irritation. «' And I wish you would go and livort him instead of boring me,' " Dear, d<''!r, Sir George ! " Mr. Thomasson wailed. " But yon do not mean it ? And I brought you such good iiews, as I thouf^ht. One might— one really might suppose that Tou wi'ihed our poor friend the worst." '♦ I with him no ^vorse a friend ! " Sir George responded shar['.ly ; and then, heedless of his visitor's protestations and excuses ana ofiers of assistance, would see him to the door. It was more easy, however, to be rid of him— the fine gentleman, of the time standing on scant ceremony with his inferiors- -than of the annoyance, the smart, the vexation, his news l.ft behind him. Sir George was not in love. He would have laughed at the notion. The girl was absolutely and immeasurably below him ; a girl of the people. He had seen her once only. In reason, therefore— and polite good breeding enforced the demand— he should have viewed Mr. Dunborongirs conquest with easy indifference, and com- plimented him with a jes^t founded on the prowess of Mars and the smiles of Venus. But tiie girl's rare beauty had caught Sir George's fancy ; the scene in which ho had taken part with her had captivated an imagination not easily inveigled. On the top of these impressions had come a period of good resolutions prescribed by inmiinent danger ; and on the top of that twenty-four hours of solitude— a thing rare in the life he '"^ A PISH OUT OF WATER. 65 '♦And I ■ boring led. Result, that Sir George, picturing the girl's fate, her proud, passionate face, and her future, felt a sting at once selfish and unselfish, a pang at once generous and vicious. Perhaps at the bottom of his irritation lay the feeling that if she was to be any niau's prey she might be his. But on the whole his feelings were surprisingl, honest ; they had their root in a better nature, that, de. p sunk under the surface of breeding and habit, had been wholesomely stirred by the events of the last few days. Still, the good and the evil in the man were so far in conBict that, had he been asked as he walked to Magdalen what he proposed to do should he get speech with the girl, it is probable he would not have known what to answer. Courtesy, nay, decency requircl that he slionld inquire after his antagonist. If he saw the girl-and he had a sneaking desire to see her— well. If he did not see her— still well • there was an end of a foolish imbroglio, which had occupied him too long already. In an hour he could be in his post- chaise, and a mile out of town. As it chanced, the surgeons in attendance on Dunboroufrh had enjoined quiet, and forbidden visitors. The staircase on which the rooms lay— a bare, dusty, unfurnished place-was deserted ; and the girl herself opened the door to him, her finger on her lips. He looked for a blush and a glance of meaning, a little play of conscious eyes and hands, a some- thmg of remembrance and coquetry ; and had his hat ready m his hand and a smile on his lips. But she had neither smile nor blush for him ; on the contrary, when the dim light that entered the dingy staircase disclosed who awaited her she drew back a pace with a look of dislike and embarrassment. "My good girl," he said, speaking on the spur of the moment— for the reception took him aback— "what is it? Wiiat Ik the matter?" 56 ! i THE CASTLE INN. She did not answer, but louked at him with solonm eyes condeniniiif^ him. ' Even so Sir George was not blind to the whiteness of her throat, to the heavy coils of her dark hair, and the smooth beauty of her brow. And suddenly he thougl)t he understood ; and a clnll ran through him. " My G-d ! " he said, startled : "he is not dead.?" Slie closed the door behind her, and stood, her hand on the latch. " No, he is not dead," she said stiffly, voice and look alike repellent. " But he has not you to thank for that." "How can you come here with that face," she continued with sudden passion-and he began to find her eyes intoler- able-" and ask for him ? Ycu who-fie, sir. Go home I Go home and thank God that you have not his blood upon your hands— you—who might to-day be Cain I " He gasped. « Good Lord ! " he said unaffectedly. And then " AVhy, you are the girl who yesterday would have me kill him!" he cried with indignation ; "who came out of town to meet me, brought me in, and would have matched me with him as coolly as ever sportsman set cock in pit ! Ay, you ! And now you blame me ! My girl, blame your- self ! Call yourself Cain, if you phhuo I " "I do," she said nnblenchiug. " But I have my excuse. God forgive me none the less ! " Her eyes filled as she said It. " I had and have my excuse. But you-a gentleman ! \\ hat i)art had you in this ? Who were you to kill your fellow-creature- at the word of a distraught girl ? " ^^ Sir George saw his o])ening and jumped for it viciously. Hear you honour me too much," he said, in the tone of elaborate politeness, which was most likely to embarrass a woman in her position. - Most certainly you do, if you are really under the impression that I fought Mr. Dunborou-h on your account, my girl ! " A FISH OUT OF WATER. 57 _ ''Did you not ? " she stammered ; and the new-born doubt in her eyes betrayed her trouble. ''Mr Dunborough struck me, because I would not let him fire on the crowd," Sir George explained, blandly raisin.^ his qmzzmg g ass, but not using it. " That was why I foLhl him. And that is my excuse. You see, my dear," he con- " ^^hy do you call me that ? " she exclaimed ; distress and shame at the mistake she had made contending with her anger ^^ Because, my pretty Methodist," lie answered coolly, your hate and your love are too near neighbours. Cursing and nursing k.lhng and billing, come not so nigh one another fct/' ''• ' "'''' ^^■«— «-- --«^--it is ^^ Hercheeks burned with shame, but her eyes flashed passion. JLl Ti" ^ ^'•'^'' '''''^' ''"' ''''' ^''' ^"t intense, "you would not dare to insult me." "If you were a lady," he retorted with easy insolence, '« I ^ould kiss you and make you my wife, my dear. I„ the meantime, and asyn.are not-give up nursing young sparks and go home to your .lother. Don't roan^the i^oads at night, and ayo.d travelling-chariots as you would the devil thing ruder than— Captain lierkoley ! " " You are not Captain Berkeley ? " "No." ^' She stared at him, breathing hard. Then, - 1 was a fool and I pay for it in insult." she said. ' resZdVvf. "' ^'"'■"" 'iT"'" ''' ''''''''^' ^^''« good-humour resfcor d by he success of his badinage ; "and no man will have the right to insult yon, ma heller "I will never give you the riHit'" -h^ —■ ■- •• intention. J -^^ Honc- =iie uucu witu 58 THE CASTLE INN. i 1:1:1 " It is rather a question o. Mr. Dunborough," he answered, Bniiling superior, and fiirtinjif \m spy-glass to and fro with his fingers. " Say the Panic to him, and — but are you going, my queen ? What, without ceremony ? " " I am not a lady, and noblesse oblige does not apply to rac," she cried. And she closed the duor in his face — sharply, yet without noise. He went down the stairs a step at a time— thinking. " Now, I wonder where slie got that I " he muttered. ''NohUssc oblige! And well applied too ! " Again, "Lord, what beasts we men are ! " he thought. " Insult ? I suppose I dill insult her ; but I had to do that or kiss ker. And she earned it, the little firel>rand ! " Then standing and looking nlong the High— he had reached the Colli>ge gates—" D n Bunborongh ! She is too good for him I For a very little — it would bemoan, it would be low, it would be cureed low — but for two pence I would speak to her mother and cheat liim. She is too good to be riiimd by that coarse-tongued boaf^ior ! Though I sujjpose she faucie-i him. I suppose ho is an Adonis to her ! Faugh ! Tommy, my lord, and Dunborough ! What a crew ! " The good and evil, spleen f id patience, which he had displayed in his interview with f" girl rode him still ; for at the door of the Mifro he pausct;, went in, came cut, and paused again. He seeiHcd to be un ■ le to decide what he would do ; but in the end he pn; acd hi« way along the street with a clouded brow, and ii. five ni' -s f.uud him- self at the door of the mean house in the c.. ,. "''once the porter of Pe ibroke had gone out night and mornirig. Here he knocked, and stoofi In a moment the door was opened, but to his astonishment by Mr. Fishwick. Either the attorney shared his surpris?, or had another and more sorioi^s cause for emotion ; for his perky face turneti red, a,-; i mg manner as he stuod iioldin'f the door i A PISH OUT OF WATER. 59 answered, fro with ou going, ',' to me," arply, yet thinking, muttered. 1, "Lord, I suppose And she d looking ' n n 'ery little ii*8ed low nJ cheat -tongned ippose he ord, and 1 he had still ; for cnt, and what he ilong the uid him- lenco the ig. Here } opened, another rky face the door half-open, and gaping at the visitor, was that of a man taken in the act, and tlioroughly ashamed of himself. Sir George might have wondered what was afooi, if ho had not espied over the lawyer's shoulder a round wooden tahie littered with papers, and guessed that Mr. Fishwi-k wns doing the widow's business— a theory which Mr. Fishwick's first words, on recovering hinis. If, bore out. "I am here— on bii iiess." ho said, cringing and rnbbing his bands. "I don't--! , „'• think that you can object, Sir George." ^ "I?" said Soane, staring at him in astonishment and some contempt. " My good man, what has it do with me ? You got my letter ? " "And the dnift, Sir George I " Mr. Fishwick bo' ^d low. "Certainly, certainly, sir. Too much honoured. V* jiioL, aa I understood, put mu end to any— I mean it rot ofFonsively, honoured sir— to any cui nection between us ? " Sir George nodded. " I have my own lawyers in London " he said stiffly. " I thought I made ic clear that 1 did not need your services furth'T." Mr. Fishwick rubbed his hands. " I have that from your own lips, Sir George," he said. " Mrs. Jfasterson, my good woman, you heard that ? " Sir George glowered at him. "Lord, man?" he said "Why so much about nothing? What on earth has this woman to do with it ? " Mr. Fi^hwick tniuhled with excitement. "Mrs. Muster- son, you will not answer," he stammered. Sir George fi.^r stared, then cursed his impudence ; tl en remembering tha. after all this was vot his business, or tluit on whi' '' be had come, and being one of those obstinates whom upposi^' ; but precipitates to their ends, "Hark ye, man, auuui aside." ho sfiir! « T fiiM «^^ "orr" i — to tuik to you. And do you, my good woman, attend 60 THE CASTLE INN. to me a moment. I have a word daujrliter." to say about your I "^ofc a word! Mr^. Masterson." the attorney cried, his eyes uhnost bursting? from Ms Jiead with excitement. Sir Geor-o was thunderstruck. " Is the man an idiot ? '♦ he e.xclaimcd, staring at hi:n. And then, "I'll tell you what It is, Mr. Fishwick, or wh rercr your name is-a little more of this, and I shall lay my cano across your back." "I am in my duty," the attorney answered, dancincr on his feet. ® -Then you will suiFer in it!" Sir George retorted. ^^ ith belter men. So do nob try me too far. I am here to say a word to this woman which I would rather say alone." ^ ^.j," !".''"''" ^""'^ "'" attorney, bubbling. " with my good Soane lost patiiiice at tiiat. " D n you ' " he cried ••Will you be quiet?" And made a cut at him with his cane Fortunately the lawyer evaded it with nimbleness ; and having escaped t.^ a safe distance hastened to cry "No malice ! I bear you no malice, sir ! " with so little breath and so much good-nature that Sir George recovered liis balance. "Confound you, man ! " he continued. "Why am I not to speak ? I came here to tell this good woman that If she has a care for this girl th<- sooner she takes her from where she is the better ! And you cannot let me put a word in." •* You came for that, sir ? " '• For what else, fool ? " "I was wrong," said the attorney humbly. "I did not undersfand. Allow me to say, Bir, that I am entirely of your opmion. The young hay- 1 ^ean she shall be removed to-morrow. It-the whole arrungemont is improper — uigtily improper." A FISH OUT OF WATER. 61 "Why, yoii go as fast now as you • eiit, »)owly before" Sir Gcoige said, observing him curiousK. Mr. Fishwick smiled after a sickly fashion. " I did not undei-stand. sir," he said. " But it is most unsuitable, most unsuitable. She sliall return to-morrow at the latest " Sir George, who had said what he hud to say. nodded, grunted, and went away ; feeling that he had pei-funned aa unpleasant -and somewhat doubtful - duty under most adv-erse circumstances. Ho could not in the least com- prehend the attorney's strange behaviour ; but after some contemptuous reflection, of which nothing came, he dis- missed ,t as one of the low things to which he had exposed himself by venturing out of the charmed circle in which he lived. He hoped that the painful series was now at an end stepped into his postchaise, amid the reverent salaams of the M.tre, the landlord holding the door ; and in a few minutes had rattled over Folly Bridge, and left Oxford behind him. CHAPTER Vir. ACHILLES AND BULSEIS. The honourable Mr. Dunborougirs colhipse arising rather from loss of blood than from an injury to a vital part, he was sufficiently recovered even on the day after the meeting to appreciate his nurse's presence. Twice he was heard to chuckle without apparent cause ; once he strove, but failed, to detain her hand ; while the feeble winks which from time to time he bestowed on Mr. Thoraasson when her back was towards him were attributed hy that gentleman, who should have known the patient, to reflections closely connected with her charms. His rage was great, therefore, Avhen three days after the duel, he awoke, missed her, and found in her place the seniur bed maker of Magdalen — a worthy woman, learned in simples and with hands of horn, but far from beautiful. Tiiis good person he saluted with a vigour which proved liim already far on the mad to recovery ; and when he was tired of swearing, he we[)t and threw his nightcap at her. Finally, between one and the other, and neither availing to bring back his IJriseis, ho fell inio a fever; which, as he was kept luq.pi'd up in a box-bed, in a close room, with every window nhut and every draught kept off by stuffy curtains— such was the fate of sick men then— bade fair to postpone his lecovery to a distant date. In this plight he sent one day for Mr. Thomasson, who had the nominal care of the young gentleman ; and th^ ACHILLES AND BRISEIS. 63 tutor being brounrlit from the ciiio tavern in the Corn Market which he occasionally condescended to frequent, the iuvahd broke to him Lis rcsohition. "See here, Tommy," ho Siiid, in a voice weak but vicious " You have got to got lier back. I will not be poisoned by this musty old witch any longer." "But if she will not come?" said Mr. Thomasson sadly. "The little fool threw up the sponge when she came before," the patient answered, tossing restlessly. " And she will come again, with a little pressure. Lord, I know the women ! So should you." *' She came beibre because— well, I do not quite know why she came," Mr. Thomasson confessed. " Any way, you have gut to get her back." The tutor remonstrated. •' My dear good man," he said unctuously, " you don't think of my position. I am u man of the world, I know " " All of it, my Macaroni ! " " But I cannot be— be nnxed up in such a matter as this my dear sir." ' "All llio same, you have got to get her," was the Btubborn answer. " Or I write to my lady and tell her you kept mum about my wound. And you will not like that my tulip." ' On that point he was right ; for if there was a person in the world of whom Mr. Thomasson s^ood in esjiecial awe, It was of Lady I)unl)orough. My lord, the author of "Pomana Britannioa" and "The Elegant Art of I'umi- culture as applied to Landscape Oardening," was a quantity he could safely neglect. Beyond his yew-walks and his orchards his lordship was a cipher. Ho had proved too resuectahlfi fiwn fnr fj>n »va«»„^^ . j ..i« i ^ i i , , ,: ' ■"- F'-'-^«o= i auu o-i iULc naa cheer- fully resigned all his affairs into the baMds of his wife, 64 THE CASTLE INN. §1 formerly the Lady Michal M'Intosh, a penniless beauty with the pride of a Scotchwoman and the temper of a Hervey' Her enemies said that my lady had tripped in the meriy days of George the Secoml, and now made up for past easiness by present hardness. Her friends-but it must be confessed her ladyship had no friends. Be that as it might, Mr. Thomasson had refrained from summoning her to her son's bedside; partly because the surgeons had quickly pronounced the wound a trifle much more because the little he had seen of her ladyship hSid left him no taste to see more. He knew, however, that the omission would weigh heavily against him were it known • and as he had hopes from my lady's aristocratic connections' and need in certain ditlicidties of all the aid he could muster, he found the threat not one to be sneezed at. His laugh betrayed this. However, he tried to put the best face on the matter. You won t do that," he said. '• She would spoil sport, my friend. Her ladyship is no fool, and would not suffer your little amusements. " She is no fool," Mr. Dunborough replied, with emphasis 'As you will find, Tommy, if she comes to Oxford, and earns certain things. It will be farewell to your chance of having that milksop of a Marquis for a pupil ! " Now, it was one of Mr. Thomasson's hiffhest ambitions at this lime to have the young Marquis of Carmarthen o..Jn.sU.d to him ; and La.ly Dunborough was connected witii the family, and, it was said, had interest there. He was silent. " You see," Mr. Dunborough continued, marking with a chuckle the ellect his words had produced, - you have got to get her." '^ Mr. Thomasson did m.t admit that that was so, but he v.rithcu in h:^ clmiv ; and pnsently he took his leave and ACHILLES AND BRI8EIS. 65 went a«'ay his plump pale face gloomy and the crow's feot showing plain at the corners of his eves He h JT was Mr. Fishwiek's answer, and tlie lawyer but w,>h «ll humility, made as if he would enter. ' '" The tutor, however, barred the wav " T xvJcJ,^ i . Mrs MftHfrrsnn " k^ -1 1 •, ^' 1 ^Mshed to see .__'^ Oa her bel.ulf ? " said Mr. Thompson stiffly. " I« „|,o " ^?' '"' ^ '^" ""' '^"O" ""t she is ill " tl.o property of the colWe ? A^k 1 1 1? ,"^ " T'"^'" the collcKo will ? " " '" '"' '""''"«' "■" »' ''H may be BO," said the attorney. «l.en Xled" blT' """fi' 'r'.° ""^"''"^ "^ >>- "O'™- attend?" ^ "" "' *" ''°"°™ -f ">« '""ege to " i am here to represent her," ,„id Mr. Fiahwick. F 66 THE CASTLE INN. *• Represent her I Represent a college laundress 1 Pooh I I never heard of such athin^." " But, sir, I am her legal adviser, and " " Legal adviser ! " ]\Ir. Thomasson retorted, turning purple — he ^vas really puzzled. *' A bcdmaker with a legal adviser 1 It's the height of impudence I Begone, sir, and take it from me, that the best advice you can give her is to attend me within the hour," Mr. Fishwick looked rather blue. " If it has nothing to do with her property," he said reluctantly, and as if he had gone too far. " Property ! " said Mr. Thomasson, gasping. " Or her affairs." " Affairs ! " the tutor cried. " I never heard of a bed- maker having affaira." *' Well," said the lawyer doggedly, and with the air of a man goaded into telling what he wished to conceal, " she is leaving Oxford. That is the fact." " Oh ! " said Mr. 'J'homasson, falling on a sudden into the minor key. "And her daughter ? " "And l)er daughter." " That is unfortunate," the tutor answered, thoughtfully mbbing his hands. "The truth is — the girl proved so good a nurse in the case of my noble friend who was injured the other day — my lord Viscount Dunborough's son, a most valuable life — that since she absented herself, he has not made the same progress. And as I am responsible for him " " She sliould never have attended him 1 " the attorney answered with unexpected sharpness. " Indeed ! And v.hy not, may I ask ? " the tutor inquired. Mr. Fishwick did not answer tlie question. Instead, " She would not have gone to him in the first instance," he Kiiu, "but that she wae under a miBapprehension." Pooh I ACHILIES AND BBISEIS. 67 "A misappreheneion ? " " She Uionght that the duel ky at her door," the attorney rp^fTr^.^"""''^"-- «o-tio, but a .oat ^,^'^ Improper ! " said the tutor, much ruffled. "And why, likl toe' "V^'" "r """"'^ '^P™"^'^ "' » ^-T. •"■'inoB,. „lV . /, '"''™^« """ tlio Kcntleman had for w fa past pa,d her atteutione which, hi/statiou coubI kr d ^oahl ™iy be houourable, and of which she had Te than once expressed lier dislike. Under those circnm 2"^; '0 expose her to his suit-but no mo™ needTe" eaid the attorney added, breaking olT and lak^n" a pmch^of snuff with great enjoyment: "as she ist::Wng Mr. Thomosson had much ado to mask his chagrin under a show of contemptuous incredulity. " The wencf ha, too fine a conce.t of herself 1 " he blurted out. " Hark von «r-th,s ,s a fable ! I wonder you dare to p„ Tabr' A gentleman of the station of my lord Dunborou 'l,', s"l' does not condescend to the gutter I " """"o" s son "I will convey the remark to my client" «iid il,„ attorney, bristling all over. ' ^ "'" ral^^'t'fh'' "■■;, '^l'r'«»'' retorted, trembling will, BeZ s r7 V '" '■^, ™"'' '""^"^ ? Client I I-b„\ PWor/:r:Lii!:;^!"-r^^^^^^^^^ pays you Fell for your services 1 " v^iuu^u F 2 68 THE CASTLE INN. "You — insolent rascal !" the tutor stammered, losing in a moment all his dignity and becoming a pale, flabby man, with the spite and the terror of crime in his face. " You — begone ! Begone, sir," "Willingly," said the attorney, swelling with defiance. " You may tell your principal that when he means marriage, he may come to us. Not before. I take my leave, sir. Good-morning." And with that he sti-utted out and marched slowly and majestically down the stairs. He bore off the honours of war. Mr. Thomasson, left among his Titian copies, his gleaming Venuses, and velvet curtains, was a sorry thing. The man who preserves a cloak of outward decency has always this vulnerable spot ; strip him, and he sees himself as others see or may see him, and views his ufjliness with griping qualms. Mr. Thomasson bore the expopure awhile, sitting white and shaking in a chair, seeing himself and seeing the end, and, like the devilK, believing and trembling. Then he rose and stag- gered to a little cupboard, the door of which Wi« adorned with a pretty Greek motto, and a hovering Cnpid painted in a blue sky ; whence he filled himself a glass of cordial. A second glass followed ; this restored the colour to his cheeks and the brightness to his eyes. He shivered ; tlien smacked his lips and 'jegan to reflect what face he should put upon it when he went to report to his pupil. In deciding that point he made a mistake. Unluckily for himself and others, in the version which he chose he was careful to include all matters likely to arouse Dunborough's resentment ; in particular he laid malicious stress upon the attorney's scornful words about a marriage. This, however — and perhaps the care he took to repeat it^ — had an unlooked-for result. Mr. Dunborough began by cursing the rorue's impudence, and did it with all the heat his Ijest friend could desire. But, being confined to his room. ACHILLES AKD BRISEIS. 69 sir. haunted by the vision of his flame, and yet debarred from any attempt to Bee her, his mood presently changed ; his heart became as water, and he fell into a maudlin state about her. Dwelling constantly on memories of his Briseis —whose name, by the way, was Julia— having her shape and complexion, her gentle touch and her smile, always in his mind, while he was unable in the body to see so much OS the hem of her gown, Achilles grew weaker in will as he grew stronger in body. Headstrong and reckless by nature, unacoustomed to thwart a desire or deny himself a gratin- cation, Mr. Dunborough began to contemplate paying even the last price for her ; and one day, about three weeks after the duel, dropped a word which frightened Mr. Thomasson. He was well enough by this time to be up, and was looking through one window while the tutor lounged in the seat of another. On a sudden " Lord ! " said he, with a laugh that broke off short in the middle. " What was the queer catch that fellow sang last night ? About a bailiff's daughter. Well, why not a porter's daughter ? " " Because you are neither young enough, nor old enough, nor mad enough ! " said Mr. Thomasson cynically, suppos- ing the other meant nothing. " It is she that would be mad," the young gentleman answered, with a grim chuckle. "1 should take it out of her sooner or later. And, after all, she is as good as Lady Macclesfield or Lady Falmouth! As good? She is better, the saucy baggage ! By the Lord, I have a good mind to do it ! " Mr. Thomasson sat dumbfounded. At length, "You are jesting ! You cannot mean it," he said. *' If it is marriage or nothing— and, hang her, she is as cold as a church pillar-I do mean it," the gentleman answered viciously ; "and so would you if you were not an old inR(>nRihU> oinnr.f I cni,:„l. ^x- 1 11 . ,„. . . .•"" "■' • -»^"J"f' -^wicT jiiiKic, man i Tijijik of her waist ! I never saw a waist to compare with itj TO THE CaSTLE inn. :| 'I 'iv ' :! ; I Even iu the Uavanna ! She is a pearl 1 She is a jewel I She is incomparahle ! " " And a porter's daughter I " •* Faiigli, I don't believe it," And ho took his oath on the point. " Yon make mo sick ! " Mr. Thomasson said ; and meant it. Then, *' My dear friend, I seo how it is," he continued. " You have the fever on you ctill, or you would not dream of such things. " " But I do dream of her — every night, confound her ! " Mr. Dunborough said ; and ho groaned like a love-sick boy. *• Oh, hang it, Tommy," ho continued plaintively, " she has a kind of look in her eyes when she is pleased — that makes you think of dewy mornings when you were a boy and went iisbing." " It 18 the fever ! " Mr. Thomasson Sfu'd, with conviction. " It is heavy on him still." Then, more seriously, " My very dear sir," he continued, " do you know that if you had your will you would be miserable within the week. Remember — 'Tis tumult, (lisonlor, 'tis loathing and hate ; Caprice gives it birth, ami contempt is its fate ! '" " Cad, Tommy ! " said ]\lr. Dunborough, aghast with admiration at the aptness of the lines. " That is uncommon clever of you ! ]5nt I shall do it all the same," ho con- tinued, in a tone of melancholy foresight. "I know I shall. 1 am a fool, a particular fool. But I shall do it. Marry in haste and repent at leisure ! " " A porter's daughter become Lady Dunborough ! " cried Mr. Thomasson with scathing sarcasm. "Oh yes, my tulip," Mr. Dunborough answered with gloomy meaning. "But there have been worse. 1 know what I know. See Collins's Peerage, volume 4, page 2i2 : 'Married firstly Sarah, widow of Colonel John Clark, of %* ACHILLES AND BRISEIS. 71 Exeter, in tlie county of Devon ' — all a hum, Tommy 1 If tlicy had said spinster, of Bridewell, in the county of Middlesex, 'twould have been as true ! I kuow what I know." After that Mr. Thomasson went out of Maj^dalen, feeling that the world was turning round with him. If Dunborough were capable of such a step as this — Dunborough, who had seen life and service, and of whose past he knew a good deal — where was he to place dependence ? How was he to trust even th3 worst of his acquaintances ? The matter shook the piliara of the tutor's house, and filled him with honest disgust. Moreover, it friglitened him. In certain circumstances ho might have found his advantage in fostering such a mcsaUiance. But here, not only had he reason to think himself distasteful to the young lady whose elevation was in prospect, but he retained too vivid a recollection of Lady Dunborough to hope that that lady would forget or forgive him ! Moreover, at the present moment he was much straitened for money ; difficulties of long standing were coming to a climax. VenusLS and Titian copies have to be paid for. The tutor, scared by the prospect, to wliicli he had lately opened his eyes, saw in early preferment or a wealthy pupil his only way of escape. And in Lady Dunborough l:iy his main ho])e, wliich a catastrophe of this nature would inevitably shatter. That evening he sent his servant to learn what he could of the Mastersons' movements. The man brought word that they had left the town that morning ; that the cottage was closed, and the key had been deposited at the college gates. "Did you Icai-n their destination?" the tutor asked, trimming his finger-nails with an appctirancc of indilference. The servant said he had not ; and after adding the common gossip of the court, that SlasLcrson had left money, and the widow had gone to her own people, concluded, «w 78 THE CASTLE INN. MB ^ if t i. "lint they were very close after Masfcerson's death, and the nciyhboiiis saw little of thom. There was a ! wyer in and out, a stranger; and it is thou(,'ht he was to marry the girl, and that that had set them a bit ab ve their position, sir. ' "That will do," mid the tutor. "I want t-o hear no gossip." And, hidinp: his y,y, he wtrt, off hot-foot to communicate the news to his pupil. But Mr. l)unborouf,'h laughed in his face « Pooh I " he said. " I know where they are." " You know ? Then where are tin y ? " Thomasson asked. "Ah, my good Tommy, that is telling." " Well," Mr. Thomasson answered, with an assumption of dignity. " At any rate they are gone. And you must allow me to say thiU I ai ,i,dad of it— for your sake I " " That is as may be," Mr. I Mmborough answered. And he took his first airing in a seduu next day. Aftc 'hat he grew so reticent about his alliiii s and so truculent when the tutor tried to sound him, that Mr. Thomasson was at his wits' end to discern what was aioot. For some time, however, he got no clue. Then, going to Dunborough's rooms one day, he found them empty, and, bribing the servant, learned that his master had gone to AVallingford. And the man told him his suspicions. Mr. Thomasson was aghast ; and by that day's post— after much searching of heart and long pondering into which scale he should throw his weight— he despatched the following letter to Lady Dunborough : " Honoured Madam,— The peculiar care I have of that distinguished and excellent gentleman, your son, no less than the profound duty I owe to my lord and your ladyship, induces mo to a step which I cannot regard without mis- giving; since, once known, it must deprive me of the influence with Mr. Dunborough which 1 have now the ACHILLES AND BRISEIS. 73 felicifv to enjoy, and whinli. heiVhtcncd by the affection lie is BO ^ a. to bestow OH '10, renders his society the most agix^e; 16 in the world. Nev. tholcss, and though con- Bideri..ioiis of this sort cannot out have wci^'ht with me, I am not able to be silent, nor allow your i)onoured repose among the storied oaks of Papworth to be roughly shattered by a blow that may still be averted by skill and conduct. " For par i.lare, Madam, the young gentleman— I say it with regi-et—liia of lato been drawn into a connection with a ^'irl of low origiu and suitable behaviour. Not that your Imlysi ip is to think me so wanting in saroir-faire as to 'ble your cari with this, were it all ; but the i^ci-sou orned— who (I need scarcely tell one so fauiiiiar with .ar. Dunborough's oniiable disposition) is solely to blumo— has the wit to affect virtue, and by means of this pretence, often resorted to by creatures of that class, has led my generous but misguided pupil to the point of matrimojiy Your ladyship shudders ? Alas! it is so. 1 have learned within the hour that he has followed her to AValliuf^furd whither she has witlidrawn herself, doubtless to augment his passion ; I am forced to conclude that iiothiug short of your ladyship's presence and advice can now stay his purpose. In that belief, and ^\ith the most profound regret, I pen these lines; and respectfully awaiting the favour of your ladyship's communds, which shall ever evoke my instant compliance, " I Imvc the honour to be while I live, Tiladam, " Your ladyship's most humble obedient servant, " FllEDEUICK TlIOMAS.^ON. . " ^'''^ hene.-l do not commend tiic advantage of silence 's sagacity.' . J ^ , . -"vv. i.in.mjtttge ui silence m refrard to this rnTnninnicahV>n fi.;- i. ,.;..- ,--j. . 1 J ; . , — ".uuKi., liiio buiiii: patunc to your ladyship'p oocro^ f„ »» ° ^ -^ **' MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) I.I 1^ 2.8 3.2 ^ m 2.5 22 2£ 1.8 ^ /APPLIED IIVMGE Inc 1653 East Moin Street Rocheslei. New York 14609 USA (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone (716) 288 - 5989 - Fax HI -i CHAPTER VIII. THE OLD BATH ROAD. In the year 1757— to go back ten years from the spring with which we are dealing — the ordinary Englishman was a Balbus despairing of the State. No phrase was then more common on English lips, or in English ears, than the -state- ment that the days of England's greatness were numbered, and were fast running out. Unwitting the wider sphere about to open before them, men dwelt fondly on the glories of the past. The old babbled of Marlborough's wars, of the entrance of Prince Eugene into London, of choirs draped in flags, and steeples reeling giddily for Ramillics and Blenb jim. The young listened, and sighed to think that the da; had been, and was not, when England gave the law to Europe, and John ChurchiU's warder set troops moving from Hamburg bo the Alps. On the fop of such triumphs, and the famous reign of good Queen Anne, had ensued forty years of peace, broken only by one inglorious war. The peace did its work : it settled the dynasty, and filled the purse ; but men, con- sidering it, whispered of effeminacy and degeneracy, and the like, as men will to the end of time. And when the clouds, long sighted on the political horizon, began to roll up, they looked fearfully abroad and doubted and trembled; and doubted and trembled the more because in home affairs all patriotism, all party-spirit, all thought of things higher than ribbon or place or pension, seemed to be dead among public THE OLD BATH BOAD. 75 men. The Tories, long deprived of power, and discredited by the taiat or suspicion of Jacobitisra, counted for nothing. The Whigs, agreed on all points of principle, and split into sections, the Ins and Outs, solely by the fact that all could not enjoy places and pensions at once, the supply being unequal to the demand— had come to regard politics as purely a game ; a kind of licensed hazard played ^or titles, oriers, and emoluments, by certain families who had the mb-ee to the public table by virtue of the part they had played in settling the succession. Into the midst of this state of things, this world of de- spondency, mediocrity, selfishness, and chicanery, and at the precise crisis when the disasters which attended the opening campaigns of the Seven Years' War-and particularly the loss of Minorca— seemed to confirm the gloomiest prognosti- cations of the most hopeless pessimists, came William Pitt ; and in eighteen months changed the face of the world, not for his generation only, but for ours. IndifTerent as an administrator, mediocre as a financier, passionate, haughty, headstrong, with many of the worst faults of an orator, he was still a man with ideals— a patriot among placemen, pure where all were coiTupt. And the effect of his touch was magical. By infusing his own spirit, his own patriotism, his own belief in his country, and his own belief in himself, into those who worked with him-ay, and into the better half of England— he wrought a seeming miracle. See, for instance, what Mr. Walpole wrote to Sir IToraco Mann in September, 1757. " For how many years," he says, "have I been telling you that your country was mad, that your country was undone ! It docs not grow wiser, it does not grow more prosperous! . . . How do you behave on these amentable occasions ? Oh, believe me, it is comfortable to ha — ' ■ ' ' ■ ■ ■ • •- ".I . lunu. tu muu uuu a neaa ni ! Again he writes in the same month, <'It is time for England to if' i Si' SI 1^ 76 THE CASTLE INN. Blip her own cables, and float away into some unknown ocean." With these compare a letter dated :November, 1759. " Indeed," he says to the same correspondent, " one Ia forced to ask every morning what victory there is, for fear of missing one." And he wrote with reason. India, Canada, Belleisle, the Mississippi, the Philippines, the Havanna, Martinique, Guadaloupe— there was no end to our conquests, Wolfe fell in the arms of victory, Clive came home the satrap of sovereigns ; but day by day ships sailed in and couriers spurred abroad with the news that a new world and a nascent empire were ours, until men's heads reeled and maps failel them, a£ they asked each morning, " What new land to-day ?" until those who had despaired of England awoke and rubbed their eyes— awoke to find three nations at her feet, and the dawn of a new and wider day breaking in ^hc sky. And what of the minister ? They called him the Great Commoner, the heaven-born statesman ; they showered gold boxes upon him ; they bore him through the city, the centre of frantic thousands, to the effaccment even cf the sovereign. Where he went all heads were bared ; while he walked the rooms at Bath and drank the water, all stood ; his very sedan, built with a boot to accommodate his gouty foot, was a show followed and watched wherever it moved. A man he had never seen left him a house a"d three thousand pounds a year ; this one, that one, the otl .le, legacies. In a word, for a year or two he was the iiloi of the nation— the first preat People's Minister. Then, the crisis over, the old system lifted its head again ; the mediocrities returned ; and, thwarted by envious rivals and a jealous king, Pitt placed the crown alike on his services and his popularity by resigning power when he could no longer dictate the policy which he knew to be right. Nov were events slow to prove his wisdom. The war with Spain which K THE OLD BATH ROAD. 77 unknown 2r, 1759. i 'lA forced f missing Belleisle, trfcinique, ►Volfe fell satrap of couriers a nascent tps failei ;o-day?" d rubbed and the Jc Great jred gold le centre •vertign. Iked the •y sedan, IS a show he had 5 a year ; rd, for a St proat I again ; 18 rivals services longer or were a which he would have declared, Spain declared. The treasure fleet which he would have seized, escaped us. Finally, the peace when it came redounded to his credit, for in the main it secured his conquests— to the disgrace of his enemies, e-.nce more might have been obtained. Such was the man who, restored to office and lately created an earl by the title of Chatham, lay ill at Bath in the spring of 'G7. The passage of time, the course of events, the ravages of gout, in a degree the acceptance of a title, had robbed hia popularity of its first gloss. But his name was still a name to conjure with in England. He was still the idol of the City. Crowds still ran to see him where he passed. His gaunt ficrure racked with gout, his eagle nose, his piercing eyes, were'stiU England's picture of a minister. His curricle, his troop of servants, the veiy state he kept, the ceremony with which he travelled, all pleased the popular fancy. When it was known that he was well enough to leave Bath, and would lie a night at the Castle Inn at Marlborough, his suite requiring twenty rooms, even that great hostelry, then reputed one of the best, as It was certali ;y the most splendid in England, and capable, It was said, of serving a dinner of twenty-four covers on silver, was in an uproar. The landlord, who knew the tastes of half the peerage, and which bin Lord Sandwich preferred and which Mr. Rigby, in which rooms the Duchess or Lady Betty liked to lie, what Mr. Walpole took with his supper, and which shades the Princess Amelia preferred for her card- table— even he, who had taken his glass of wine with a score of dukes, from Cumberland the Great to Bedford the Little, was put to it ; the notice being short, and the house some- what full. Fortunately the Castle Inn, on the road between London and the west, was a place of call, not of residence. Formerly a favourite residence of the Seymour family, and built, if tradition does not lie, by a pupil of Inigo Jones, it stood— t i 78 THE CASTLE INN. 1' I ■■'*' ^i and for the house, still stands-in a snug fold of the downs, at the end of the long High Street of Marlborough ; at the precise point where the route to Salisbury debouches from the Old Bath Road. A long-fronted, stately mansion of brick, bosomed in trees, and jealous of its historic past— it had sheltered William of Orange-it presented to the north and the road, from which it was distant some hundred yards a grand pillared portico flanked by projecting wings. At that portico, and before those long rows of shapely windows, forty coaclies, we are told, changed horses every day. Beside the western wing of the house a green sugarloaf mound, reputed to be of Druidical origin, rose above the trees ; it was accessible by a steep winding path, and crownod at the date ot this story by a curious summer-house. Travellers from the west who merely passed on the coach, caught, if they looked back as they entered the town, a glimpse of groves and lawns laid out by the best taste of the day, between the southern front and the river. To thtse a doorway and a flight of stone steps, corresponding in position with the portico in the middle of the north front, conducted the visitor, who, if a man of teeling, was equally surprised and charmed to find in these shady retreats, stretching to the banks of the Kenn' t a silence and beauty excelled in few noblemen's gardens. In a word, while the north front of the house hummed with the revolving wheels, and echoed the chatter of half the fashion- able world bound for the Bath or the great western port of Bristol, the south front reflected the taste of that Lady Hertford who had made these glades and trim walks her principal hobby. With all its charms, however, the traveller, as we have said, stayed there but a night or so. Those in the house, therefore, would naove on, and so room could be made. And so room was made ; and two days later, a little after sunset, amid a spasm 01 final preparation, and with a great parade of arrival, THE OLD BATH EOAD. 79 he downs, 1 ; at the 5 from the of brick, '' — it had lorth and yards, a At that >ws, forty eside the , reputed it was the date from the y looked id lawns southern of stone B middle man of in these inn :fc, a as. In vith the rashion- port of t Lady Iks her ve said, srefore, room amid a arrival, the earl's procession, curricle, chariot, coaches, chaises, and footmen, rolled in from the west. In a trice lights flashed everywhere, in the road, at the windows, on the mound, among the trees ; the crowd thickened — eveiy place seemed peopled with the Pitt liveries. Women, vowing that they were cramped to death, called languidly for chaise-doors to be opened ; and men who ha^^ already descended, and were stretching their limbs in tuu xoad, ran to open them. This was in the rear of the procession ; in front, where the throng of townsfolk closed most thickly round the earl's travelling chariot, was a sudden baring of heads, as the door of the coach was opened. The landlord, bowing lower than he had ever bowed to the proud Duke of Somerset, offered his shoulder. And then men waited and bent nearer ; and nothing happening, looked at one another in surprise. Still no one issued ; instead, something which the nearest could not catch was said, and a tall lady, closely hooded, stepped stiffly out and pointed to the house. On which the land- lord and two or three servants hurried in ; and all was expectation. The men were out again in a moment, bearing a great chair, which they sot with nicety at the door of the carriage. Th^s done, the gapers saw what they had come to see. For an instant, the face that all England knew and all Europe feared— but blanched, strained, and drawn with pain- showed in the opening. For a second the crowd was gratified with a glimpse of a gaunt form, a star and ribbon ; then, with a groan heard far through the awestruck silence, the invalid sank heavily into the chair, and was borne swiftly and silently into the house. Men looked at one another ; but the fact was better than their fears. My lord, after leaving Bath, had had a fresh attack of the gout ; and when he would be able to proceed on his journey only Dr. Addington, his physician, whose gold- Ul i a I. m w I 80 THE CASTLE INN. headed cane, p^reat wig, and starclicd asj^ect did not foster curiosity, could pretend to say. Perhaps Mr. Smith, the landlord, was as much concerned as any ; when he learned the state of tlie case, he fell to mental arithmetic with the assistance of his fingers, and at times looked blank. Counting np the earl and his gentleman, and his gentleman's gentle- man, and his secretary, and his private secretary, and his physician, and his three friends and their gentlemen, and my lady and her woman, and the children and nurses, and a crowd of others, he cou.Jnot see where to-morrow's travellers were to lie, supposing the minister remained. However, in the end, he set that aside as a question for to-morrow ; and having seen Mr. lligby's favourite bin opened (for Dr. Addington was a connoisseur), and reviewed the cooks dish- ing up the belated dinner— which an endless chain of servants carried to the different apartments— he followed to the principal dining-room, where the minister's company were assembled ; and between the intervals of carving and seeing that his guests ate to their liking, enjoyed the conversation, and, when invited, joined in it with tact and self-respect. As became a host of the old school. By this time lights blazed in every window of the great mansion ; the open doors emitted a fragrant glow of warmth and welcome ; the r-.ctle of plates and hum of voices could be heard in the road a hundred paces away. But outside and about the stables the hubbub had somewhat subsided, the road had grown quiet, and the last townsfolk had withdrawn, when a little after seven the lamps of a carriage appeared in the High Street, approaching from the town. It swept round the church, turned the flank of the house, and in a twinkling, drew up before the pillars. " Hilloa ! House ! " cried the postillion. " House ! " And,, cracking his whip on his boot, he looked up at the rows of lighted windows. THE OLD BATH ROAD. 81 not foster 5mith, the he learned I with the Counting I's gentlc- f, and hig in, and my ses, and a I travellers 3\vever, in row ; and (for Dr. ooks dish- f servants d to the )any were .nd seeing versation, If-respect. the great f warmth ces could itside and , the road wn, when id in the pt round iwinkliug: i!" And,, I rows of A man and a maid who travelled outside climbed down. As the man opened the carriage door, a servant bustled cut of the house. '* Do you want fresh horses ? " said he in a kind of aside to the footman. ' "No— rooms ! " the man answered bluntly. Before the otli.r could reply, " AVhat is this ?" cried a shrewish voice from the interior of the carriage. " Iloity- toity I This is a nice way of receiving compnuy ? Yon, fellow go to your master and say that I am here." ' " Say that the Lady Dunborough is here," an unctuous voice repeated, "and requires rooms, dinners, firo, and the best he has. And do you be quick, fellow ! " The speaker was Mr. Thomasson, or rather Mr. Thomasson puis the importance which comes of travellino- with a viscountess. This, and perhaps the cramped state of his limbs, made hiin a little long in descending. "AYiil your ladyship wait ? or will you allow me to have the honour of assisting you to descend ? " he continued, shivering- sli-htlv from the cold. To tell the truth, he was not enjoying his honour on cheap terms. Save the last hour, her ladyship's tongue had gone without ceasing, and Mr. Thomasson was sorely in need of refreshment. " Descend ? No ! " was the tart answer. - Let the man come! Sho ! Tunes are changed since I was here last. I had not to v.a.t then, or break my shins in the dark ! Has the impudent fellow gone in ? " He. had, but at this camo out again, bearing lights before his master. The host, Wul. the civility which marked landlords in those dajs-the halcyon days of inns-hurried down the steps to the carriaoo - Dear me ! Dear me ' I am most unhappy I " be exclaimed. - Had I known your ladyship was travelling, some arrangement should have been nv.de. I declare, my lady, I would not have had this hannen lor t\\ en Ly pounds! But- " '''' C.I. G 82 THE CASTLE INN. , 1 ' Ml i^ " But what, man ! What is tlie man mouthing about ? " bIio cried impatiently. " I am full," he said, extending his palms to express his despair. " The Earl of Chatham and his lordship's company travelling from Bath occupy all the M'cst wing and the greater part of the house ; and I have positively no rooms fit for your ladyship's use. I am grieved, desolated, to have to SJiy this to a person m your ladyship's position," he continued glibly, "and an esteemed customer, but " and again he extended his hands. " A fig for your desolation I " her ladyship cried rudely " It don't help me, Smith." " But your ladyship sees how it is." " I am hanged if I do ! " she retorted, snd used an expression too coarse for modern print. " But I suppose that there is another liouse, man." "Certainly, my lady— several," the landlord answeicd, with a gesture of deprecation. " But all full. And the accommoJation not of a kind to suit your ladyship's tastes." "Then— what are we to do?" she asked with angry shrillness. "We have fresh horses," he ventured to suggest. " The road is good, and in four hours, or four and a half at the most, your ladyship might be in Bath, where there is an abuudauce of good lodgings." "Bless the man!" cried the angry peeress. "Does he think I have a skin of leather to stand this joltino- and shaking? Four hours more! I'll He i^ my carriage first!" ^ ^'^um^e A small rain was beginning to fall, and the night promised to be wet as well as cold. Mr. Thomasson, who had spent the last hour, while his companion slept, in visions of the sumptuous dinner, neat wines, and good beds that awaited him at the Castle Inn, cast a despairino- ^^^^ maid causing her gloves and scent-bottle behind her. The tutor, who wore no gloves, was a. Uttie i-n— Pr- H-i- -. washed his hands ata p„„p i„ the souUetrand d*d tS G 2 m 84 THE CASTLE INN. ■ .'• on a rollcr-towcl — with no scnso that the apparatus waa deficient— ho tucked his hat under his arm and, handling liis sniiir-box, tripped after her as hastily as vanity and an o^i^'ant demeanour permitted. He fbuud her in the act of joining', with an air of vast condescension, a party of three ; two of whom her stately sahitc had ah-eady irozen in tiiei- places. These two, a sliglit perky niiin of middle age, and a frightened rustic- looking woman in homely black— who, by the way, sat with her mouth open and her knife and fork resting points upward on the table— could do nothing but stare. The third, a handsome girl, very simply dressed, returned her ladyship's gaze with nu"ngled interest and timidity. My lady noticed this, and the girl's elegant air and shape, and set down the other two for her duenna and her guardian's man of business. Aware that Sir George Soano had no sister, she scented scandal, and lost not a moment in opening the trenches. "And how far have you come to-day, child ? " she asked with condescension, as soon as she had taken her seat. " Prom Heading, madam," the girl answered in a voice low and restrained. Her manm^r was somewhat awkward, and she had a shy air, as if her surroundings were new to her. But Lady Dunborough was more and more impressed with her beauty, and a natural air of refinement that was not to be mistaken. "The roads are insufferably crowded," said the peeress " They are intolerable ! " " I am afraid you suffered some inconvenience," the girl answered timidly. At that moment l\rr. Thomasson entered. He treated the strangers to a distant bow, and, without looking at them, took his seat with a nonchalant ease, becoming a man who travelled with viscountesses, and was at liome in the best THE OLD BATH ROAD. 85 reorgc Soano I moment in company. Tlio tabic had his first linnfriy glance. Tie espied roast and cold, a pair of smoking ducklings just set on, a dish of trout, a round of beef, a pigeon pie, and hot rolls. Relieved, he heaved a sigh of satisfaction. " Ton honour, this is not so bad I " ho said. " It is not what your ladyship is accustomed to, but at a pinch it will do. It will do ! " He was not unwilling that tlie strangers should know his companion's rank, and he stole a glance at them, as he spoke, to sec what inpression it made. Alas I the deeper impvcssion was made on himself. For a moment ho stared ; the next lie sprang to his feet with an oath plain and strong.' *' Drat the man ! " cried my lady in wrath. He had come near to oversetting her pl-te. '' What flea has bitten you now ? " "Do you know— who these people arc ■ " Mr. Thomasson stammered, trembling with rage ; and, resting both hands on the back of his chair, he glared now at them and now at Lady Dunborough. He could be truculent where he had nothnig to fear ; and he was truculent now. " Those people ? " my lady drawled in surprise ; and she mspected them through her quizzing-glass as coolly as if they were specimens of a rare order submitted to her notice. " Not in the leas^ my good man. Who are they ? Should I know them ? " " They arc " But the little man, whose scat happened to be opposite the tutor's, had risen to his feet by this time ; and at that word cut him short. "Sir!" he cried m a flutter of agitation. '« Have a care ! Have a care what you say 1 1 am a lawyer, and I warn you that anything defamatory will— will be- " ^ *'" ^^^^- -"wiKissuii. "i/onc try to browbeat me, sir. These persons are impostors, Lady Dunborough I 86 THE CASTLE INN. Ill 1 i Impostors!" he contiimcd. "In t\ik house, at any rate. They have no right to be here I " "Yor shall pay for this!" shrieked Mr. Fiahwick. For he it was. "I will ring the bell," the tutor continued in a high tone, "and have them removed. They have no more to do with Sir George Soane, whose name they appear to have taken, than your ladyship has.'- " Have a care ! Have a care, sir," cried the lawyer, trembling. " Or than T have ! " persisted Mr. Thomasson hardily, and with his head in the air ; " and no right or title to be anywhere but in the servants' room. That is their proper place. Lady Dunborough," ho continued, his eyes darting severity at the three culprits, "are you aware that this young person whom you have been so kind as to notice is — is " "Oh, Gadzooks, man, come to the point!" cried her ladyship, with one eye on the victuals. "No, I will not shame her publicly," said Mr. Thomasson swelling with virtuous self-restraint. " But if your ladyship would honour me with two words apart ? " Lady Dunborough rose, muttermg impatiently; and Mr. Thomasson, with the air of a just man m a parable, led her a little aside; but so that the three who remained at the table might still feel that his eye and his reprehensicn rested on them. He spoke a few words to her ladyship • whereon she uttered a faint cry, and stiffened. A moment and she turned and came back to the table, her face crimson, her headdress nodding. She looked at the girl, who had just risen to her feet. « You baggage 1 " she hissed, - begone ! Out of this house! How dare you sit in my presence?" And she pointed to the door. it any rate, iwick. For I high tone, i to do with bave taken, the lawyer, on hardily, r title to be heir proper yes darting that this 3 to notice cried her ^homasson, ir ladyship ntly ; and larable, led remained prehension ladyship ; A. moment her face the girl, t of this And she CHAPTER iX. ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON. The scene presented by the room at this moment was sufficiently singular. The waiters, drawn to the spot by the fury of my lady's tone, peered in at ths half-opened door, and asking one another what the fiacas was about, thought so ; and soitly called to ethers to witness it. On one side of the table rose Lady Dunborough, giim and venomous ; on the other the girl stood virtually alone— for the eld< roman had fallen to weeping helplessly, and the attorney seemed to be unequal to this new combatant. Even BO, and though her face betrayed trouble and some irresolu- tion, she did not blench, but faced her accuser with a slowly rising passion that overcame her shyness. " Madam," she said, " I did not clearly catch your name. Am I right in supposing that you are Lady Dunborough ? " The peeress swallowed her rage with difficulty. " Go I " she cried, and pointed afrish to the door. " IIow dare you bandy words with me ? Do you hear me ? Go ! " "I am not going at your bidding," the girl answered slowly. *' Why do you speak to me like that ? " And then, "You have no right to speak to me in that way .'"she continued, in a flush of indignation. " You impudent creature ! " Lady Dunborough cried. "You shameless, abandoned baggage! Who brought you in out of the streets ? You, a kitchen-wench, to be sitting at this table smiling at your betters 1 I'll Ring the 88 THE CASTLE INN. bell ! Ring the bell, fool ! " slie continued impetuously, and scathed Mr. Thomasson with a look. " Fetch the land- lord, and let me see this impudent hussj thrown out ! Ay, madam, I sui)pose you are here waiting for my son ; but you have cauglit me instead, and I'll be bound I'll 1" "You'll disgrace yourself," the girl retorted with quiet pride. But slie was very white. " I know nothing of your son." " A fig for the lie, mistress ! " cried the old harridan ; and added, as was too much the fashion in those days, a word we cannot print. The Duchess of Northumberland had the greater name for coarseness ; but Lady Dunborough's tongue was known in town. "Ay, that smartens you, does it?" she continued with cruel delight ; for the girl had winced as from a blow. "But here conies the landlord, and now oufc you go. Ay, into the streets, mistress ! Hoity-toity, that dirt like you should sit at tables ! Go wash the dishes Bhlt ! " There was not a waiter who saw the younger woman's shame who did not long to choke the viscountess. As for the attorney, though he had vague fears of privilege before his eyes, and was clogged by the sex of the assailant, he could remain silent no longer. "My lady," he cried, in a tone of trembling desperation, "you will— you will repent this! You don't know what you are doing. I tell you, that to-morrow " "What is this .?" said a quiet voice. It was the land- lord's ; he spoke as he pushed his way through the group at the door. " Has your ladyship some complaint to make ? " he continued civilly, his eye taking in the scene-even to the elder woman, who through her tears kept muttering, " Deary, we ougho not to have come here I I told him we ought not to come liere ! " And then, before her ladyship could reply, "Is this the party-that have Sir ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON. 89 George Soane's rooms?" he continued, turning to the nearest servant. Lady Dunborongh answered for the man. " Ay » " she eaid, pitiless in her triumph. "They are ! And know no more of Soane than the hair of my head ! They are a party of fly-by-nights ; and for this fine madam, she is a kitchen dish-washer at Oxford I And the commonest, lowest slut that • " " Your ladyship has said enough," the landlord interposed moved by p.ty or the girl's beauty. « I know already that there has been some mistake here, and that these persons have no right to the rooms they occupy. Sir George Soane has alighted within the last few minutes " "And knows nothing of them ! » my lady cried, clapping her hands m triumph. " That is so," the landlord answered ominously. Then turning to the bewildered attorney, « For you, sir " he said "if you have anything to say, be good c'nou-h to speak On the face of it, this is a dirty trick you have played me." " Trick .?" cried the attorney. "Ay, trick, man. But before I send for the con- stable " "The constable?" shrieked Mr. Fishwick. Truth to tell. It had been his own idea to storm the splendours of the Castle Inn ; and for certain reasons he had carried it in the teeth of his companions' remonstrances. Now between the suddenness of the onslaught made on them, the strangeness of the surroundings, Sir George's inopportune arrival, and the scornful grins of the servants who thronged the doorway he was cowed. For a moment liis wonted sharpness deserted ^im ; he faltered and changed colour. " I don'f, kn^w v^hat you mean," he said. " I gave-I gave the name of Soane ; and you — you assigned me the rooms. I thought it 90 THE CASTLE INN. : particularly civil, sir, and was even troubled about the expense " " Is your name Soane ? " Mr. Smith asked with bluntness ; he grew more suspicious aa the other's embarrassment increased. " No," Mr. Fishwick admitted reluctantly. " But this young lady's name " "Is Soane?" " Yes." Mr. Thomasson stepped forward, grim as fate. " That is not true," he said coldly. "I am a Fellow of Pembroke College, Oxford, at present in attendance on her ladyship ; and I identify this person "—he pointed to %e girl—" as the daughter of a late servant of the College, and this woman as her mother. I have no doubt that the last thing they expected to find in this place was one who knew them." The landlord nodded. "Joe," he said, turning to a servant, "fetch the constable. You will find him at the Falcon." " That is talking ! " cried my lady, clapping her hands gleefully. "That is talking!" And then addressing the girl, "Now, madam," she said, "I'll have your pride pulled down ! If I don't have you in the stocks for this, tease my back ! " There was a snigger at that, in the background, by the door ; and a crush to get in and see how the rogues took their exposure ; for my lady's shrill voice could be heard in the hall, and half the inn was running to listen. Mrs. Masterson, who had collapsed at the mention of the con- stable, and could now do nothing but moan and weep and the attorney, who spluttered vain threats in a voice quavering between fear and passion, evoked little sympathy. But the cirl. who Mivonn-h nil vptnoinnrl ojlrtiif nT}.i'fn ".vl defiant, who faced all, the fingers of one hand drumming on t ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON. 91 the table before her, and her fine eyes brooding scornfully on the crowd, drew from more than one the compliment of a quicker breath and a choking throat. She was the handsomest piece they had seen, they muttered, for many a day— as alien from the other two as light from darkness ; and It IS not in man's nature to see beauty humiliated and feel no unpleasant emotion. If there was to be a scene' and she did not go quietly— in that case more than one in the front rank, who read the pride in her eyes, wished he were elsewhere. Suddenly the crowd about the door heaved. It opened slowly, and a voice, airy and indifferent, was heard remarking, " Ah I These are the people, are they .? Poor devils ! "' Then a pause ; and then, in a tone of unmistakable sur- prise, " Hallo ! " the newcomer cried as he emerged and stared at the scene before him, " What is this ? " The attorney almost fell on his knees. " Sir Geor<^e ' " he screamed. " My dear Sir George ! Honoured sir,\elievc me I am innocent of any ill-meaning." "Tut-tut ! " said Sir George, who might have just stepped out of his dressing-closet instead of his carriage, so perfect was his array, from the ruffles that fell gracefully over his wrists to the cravat that supported his chin. " Tut-tut ! Lord, man, what is the meaniug of this .? " "We are going to see," the landlord answered drily, fore- stalling the lawyer's reply. " I have sent for the cous'table, Sir George." "But, Sir George, you'll speak for us?" Mr. Fish wick cried piteously, cutting the other short in his turn. '« You will speak for us ? You know me. You know that I am a respectable man. Oh, dear me, if this were told in Walling- ford ! ' he continued ; *« and I have a mother aged seventy ! ji- iH a mistake— a pure mistake, as I am prepared to prove. X appeal to you, sir. Both I and my friends " 92 THE CASTLE INN. in PI I J He wiis stopped on tliafc word ; and very stranfrdy. Tlie }■ irl turned on him, lier clieeks scarlet. " Tor shame ! " slie cried witli indignation that seemed to lier hearers inexpli- ^.able. " Be silent, will you ? " Sir George stared with tlie others. " Oh ! " said Lady Dunborongh, "so you have found your voice, have you, miss — now tliat there is a gentleman here ? " " But— what is it all about ? " Sir George asked. "They took your rooms, sir," the landlord explained respectfully. ^" Pooh I is that all?" Soane answered contemptuously. What moved him he could not tell ; but in his mind he had chosen his side. He did not like Lady Dunborongh. " But they are not," the landlord objected, " they are not the persons they say they are, Sir George." " Chut ! " said Soane carelessly. " I know this pereon, at any rate. He is respectable eno.igh. I don't understand It at all. Oh, is that you, Thrmasson ? " Mr. Thomasson had fallen back a pace on Sir George's entrance ; but being recognised he came forward. " I think that you will acknowledge, my dear sir," he said persuasively— and his tone was very different from that which he had taken ten minutes earlier—*' that at any rate —they are not proper persons to sit down with her ladyship." " But why should they sit down with her ? " said Sir George tlie fashionable, slightly raising his eyebrows. " Hem— Sir George, this is Lady Dunborough," replied Mr. Thomasson, not a little embarrassed. Soane's eyes twinkled as he returned the viscountess's glance. But he bowed profoundly, and with a sweep of his hat that made the rustics stare. " Your ladyship's most humble servant," he said. "Allow me to hope that Mr. Dunborough is perfectly recovered. Believe me, I greatly regretted his mischance." ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON. 93 But Lady Dunborough was not so foolish as to receive his overtures accordinj,' to the letter. She saw jjlainly that he had choscu his side— tlio impertinent fop, with his airs and graces !— and she was not to bo propitiated. " Prtiy leave my son's name apart," she answisred, tossing her head contemptuously. "After what Las happened, sir, I prefer not to discuss him with you." Sir George raised his eyebrows, and bowed as profoundly as befure. " That is entirely as your ladyship pleases," he said. Nevertheless he was not accustomed to be snubbed, and he set a trifle to her account. " But for that creature," she continued, trembling with passion, " I will not sleep under the same roof with her." " Sir George simpered. " I am sorry for that," he said. " For I am afraid that the Falcon in the town is not the stamp of house to suit your ladyship." The viscountess gasped. " I should like to know why you champion her," she cried violently. " I suppose you came here to meet her." " Alas, madam, I am not so happy," he answered — with such blandncss that a servant by the door choked, and had to be hustled out in disgrace. "But since Miss— er — Masterson is here, I shall be glai to place my rooms at her — mother's disposal." " There are no rooms," said the landlord. Between the two he was growing bewildered. " There are mine," said Sir George drily. " But for yourself. Sir George ? " •' Oh, never mind me, my good man. I am here to meet Lord Chatham, and some of his people will accommodate me." "Well, of course," Mr. Smith answered, rubbing his hands dubiously— for he had sent for tlic coiistable— "of course. Sir George— if you wish it. I did not understand f m'i 94 THE CASTLE INN. for wh..n the rooms were ordered, or-or this unpleasant- ness would not have arisen." •' To be sure," Sir George drawled good-natured! j. " Give the constable half-a-crown, Smith, and charge it to me." An 1 he turned on his heel. But at this appearance of a happy issue, Lady Dun- borough's rage and chagrin, Aviiich had been rising higher and higher with eacli word of the dialogue, could no longer be restrained. In an awful voice, and with a port of such majesty that an ordinary man must have shaken in his shoes before her towering headdress, '* Am I to understand " she cried, "that, after all that has been said about these persons, you propose to harbour them ? " The landlord looked particularly miserable ; luckily he was saved from the necessity of replying by an unexpected intervention. " We are much obliged to your ladyship," the girl behind the table said, speaking rapidly, but in a voice rather sarcastic than vehement. "There were reasons why I thought It impossible that we should accept this gentleman's offer But the words you have applied to me, and the spirit in which your ladyship has dealt with me, make it impossible for us to withdraw and lie under the-the vile imputations, you have chosen to cast upon mo. For that reason," she continued with spirit, her face instinct with indignation, "I do accept from this gentleman-and with grafcitude-what I ^vould fuin refuse. And if it be any matter to your ladyship, you have only your unmannerly words to thank for it. « r ^^ ' ^^^ ' " ^^'^ viscountess cried in affected contempt. Are we to be called in question by creatures like those ? lou vixen ! I spit upon you ! " Mr. Thomasson smiled in a sickly fashion. For one thing, he .egan to feci hungry; he had not supped. For another, ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON. 95 he wished that he had kept his mouth shut, or had never left Oxford. With a downcast air, " I think it might be better," he said, -if your ladyship were to withdraw from this company." But her ladyship was at that moment as dangerous as a tigress. " You think ?" she cried. "You think? I think you are a fool ! " A snigger from the doorway gave point to the words ; on which Lady Dunborough turned wratlif ully in that direction. But the prudent landlord had slipped away, Sir George also had retired, and the servants and others, concluding the sport was at an end, were fast dispersing. She saw that redress was not to be had, but that in a momont she would be eft alone with her foes ; and though she was bursting with spite, the prospect had no charms for her For the tune she had failed ; nothing she could say would now alter that Moreover, her ladyship was vaguely conscious that lu the g.rl, who still stood pitilessly behind the table, as expecting her to withdraw, she had met her match. The beautiful face and proud eyes that regarded her so steadfastly had a certain terror for the battered great lady, who had all to lose in a conflict, and saw dimly that coarse words had no power to hurt her adversary. So Lady Diinborough, after a moment's hesitation, deter- mined to yield the field. Gathering her skirts about her with a ast gesture of contempt, she sailed towards the door, resolved not to demean herself by a single word. But half- way across the room her resolution, which had nearly cost her a fit, gave way. She turned, and withering the three travellers with a glance, " You-you abandoned creature ! " Bhe cried. " m see you in the stocks yet ! " And she •swept from the room. Alas ! the girl laup-hnd •- and m^ l-r^" h—^ v- • i'3rhaps It was that ; perhaps it was the fact that she had 06 THE CASTLE INN. t not dined, and was leaving her supper behind her ; perhaps it was only a general exasperation rendered her ladyship deaf. From one cansc or another she lost something whioh her woman said to her — with no small appearance of excite- ment—as they crossed the hall. The maid said it again, but Avith no better siuicess ; and pressing nearer to say it a third time, when they were half-way n}) the stairs, she had the mis- fortune to step on her mistress's train. The viscountess turned in a fury, and slapped her check. •' You clumsy slut ! " she cried. •' Will that teach you to be more careful ? " The woman shrank away, one side of her face deep red, her eyes glittering. Doubtless the pain wjis sharp ; and thougli the thing had happened before, it had never hap- pencd in public. But she suppressed her feelings, and answered whimpering, " If your ladyship pleases, I wished to tell you that Mr. Dunborough is here."/ " Mr. Dunborough ? Here ? " the viscountess stammered. " Yes, my lady. I saw him alighting as we passed the door." er ; perhaps her ladyship !thin;i which ce of excite- it again, bub iiiy it a third had the mis- viscuuiitesa teach you to iCe deep red, sharp ; and never hap- !elinp;s, and !S, I wished stammered, passed the CIIArTER X. MOTUER AND SON. Lady Dunrorougii stood, as if turned to stone by the news. In the great halJ below, a throng of servants, tlie Pitt h'very prominent among them, were hnirying to and fro, with a clatter of dishes and plates, a ceaseless calling of orders, a buzz of ^ talk, and now and then a wrangle. ]5ut the lobby and staircase of the west wing, on the first floor of which she stood— and where the great man lay, at the end of a softly lighted passage, his door guarded by a man and a woman seated motionless in chairs beside it— were silent by comparison ; the bulk of the guests were still at supper or busy in the cast or inferior wing ; and my lady liad a moment to think, to trace the consequences of this inoppor- tune arrival, and to curse, now more bitterly than before, the failure of her attempt to eject the girl from the house. ' However, she was not a woman to lie down to her antago- nists, and in the depth of her stupor she liad a thought. Her brow relaxed ; she clutched the maid's arm. " Quick," she whispered, "go and fetcli Mr. Thomasson-he is some- where below. Bring him here, but do nob let Mr. Dun- borough sec you as you pass ! Quick, woman— run ! " The maid flew on her errand, leaving her mistress to listen and fret on the stairs, in a state of suspense almost unbearable. She caught her son's voice in the entrance hiilK from whicu stately arched doorways led to the side lobbies ; but happily he was still at tlie door, engaged in 08 THE CASTLE INN. m i'ti m m Hi railing at a servant ; and so far all was well. At any moment, however, ho might stride into the middle of the '"^y group in the hall ; and then if he saw Thomnsson bofoi-o the tutor had had his lesson, the trick, if not the game, uas lost. Her ladyship, i.turcely bieathing, hung over the balustrade, and at length had the satisfaetion of sceinc. Ihomusson and tlic woinun enter the lobby at the foot ol" fi^e stairs. In a trice the tutor, looking scared, and a trifle sulky-for he had been taken from his meat-stood at her side. Lady Dunborough drew a breath of rdief, «nd by a si-n bade the maid begone. - You know who is belon ? " she whispered. Mr Thomasson nodded. "I thoug'at it was what you wished he said, with something in his tone as near mutiny as he dared venture. " I understood that your ladyship desired to overtake him and reason with him " " But with the girl here ? " she muttered. And yet it was rue. Before she had seen this girl, she had fancied the task of turning her son to be well within her powers. Now she gravely doubted the issue; nay, was inclined to think a I lost ,f the pair met. She told the tutor this, in curt phrase ; and continued : - So, do you go down, man, at once, and meet him at the door ; and tell him that 1 am here-lie will discover that for hiinself-but that the hussy 18 not here. Say she is at Bath or~or anywhere you please." w wi TT '"''''^''^^- " ^^' ^'^^^ ''' ^^^'V' he said. Why should he see her ? " niy lady retorted. - The House is full. He must presently go elsewhere. Put him on a false scent, and he will go after her hot-foot, and not nnd her. And in a week ho will be wiser " "It is dangerous," Mr. Thomasson f.u.ered, his eyes wandering uneasily. ^ - So am L" the viscountess answered in a passion. - And Mother and son. 'cll. At any iiiddle of tlio kv Thomusson k, if not the ig, hung over ion of scciujr t the foot of 1, and a trifle ■stood at her nd by a m^n. )elo\v ?" she as what you near mutiny 3ur ladyship ad yet it was fancied the )\ver8. Now led to think his, in curt ni, man, at I that 1 am it the hussy you please." " ho said, ted. " The Put him ot, and not 3, his eyes on, " And 99 ni.nd you, Thomas;: .. she continued fiercely, "you have got to sKlo with me now ! Cross mc, and you shall have noitlior the living nor my good word ; and without my word vou may u 1. -tie for your sucking lord : But do my bidding he p me to ciiecknin^e this baggage, and I'll see you haxo both. V, hy, man, rather tii.m let him marry her, Vd pav you to nmrry her! I'd rather pay down a conj v of housand pounds, and the living too. D'ye hear mo> But It won't come to that if yva do my biddincr." Still Mr. Thomasson hesitated, shrinking from ''the task proposed, not because he must lie to execute it, but because he must he to Dunboroiigh, and would snftcr for it wer. ,■ found out. On the other hand, the bribe was larg ; the I gabled house, set in its little park, and as good as . squire , the hundred-acre glebe, the M tithes and Easter ducs-to say nothing of the promised ntipil and freedom from hi« money troubles-tempted him sorely. He paiised ; and Mlule he hesitated he was lost. For Mr. Dunboiough, with the landlord beside him, entered tli ' side-hall, booted, spurred, and in his horseman's coat; and 1, >ked up and saw the pair at the head of the staircase. His '"ace, gloomy and discon- tented before, grew darker. He ^ 'appcd his mud^v boot with his whip, and, quitting the landlcrd without cenmony, in three strides was up the stairs. 1 le did not condescend to Mr. lliomasson, but turned to the viscountess. " Well, madam," he said with a sneer. " Your humble servant This is an unforeseen honoi M I did not expect to meet you here." "I_ expected to meet ijou^ mj i^dy answered with meaning. " Glad to give you the pleasure," he f- id, sneering again. He was evidently in the worst of temj irs. -May I ask What has set i/nu travelliup- ? " he continu d "Why, napght but your folly ! " the viscountess cried. H 3 100 THE CASTLE INN m^- " Thank you for nothing, my lady," he said. « I suppose your spy there"— and he scowled at the tutor, whose knees shook under him-" has set you on this. Well, there is time. I'll settle accounts with him by-and-by." " Lord, my dear sir," Mr. Thomasson cried faintly, « you don't know your friends ! " "Don't I ? I think I am beginning to find them out," Mr. Dunborongh answered, slapping his boot ominously, and my enemies ! " At whicli the tutor trembled afresh "Never mind him," quoth my lady. "Attend to me, Dunborough. Is it a lie, or is it not, that you are going to disgrace yourself tiie way I have heard ? " "J)isgracc myself?" cried Mr. Dunborough hotly. *' Ay, disgrace yourself." " I'll flay the man that says it ! " " You can't flay me," her ladyship retorted with corre- spondmg spirit. " You impudent, good-for-nothing fellow I D you hear me ? You are an impudent, good-for-nothing fellow, Dunborough, for all your airs and graces I Come you don't swagger over me, my lad ! And as sure as you do this that I hear of, you'll smart for it. There are Lorton and Swanton-my lord can do as he pleases with t/iem, and they II go from you ; and your cousin Meg, ugly and long in the tooth as she is, shall have them ! You may put this beggar's wench in my chair, but you shall smart for it as long as you hve ! " " I'll marry whom I like ! " he said. J^Then you'll buy her dear," cried my lady, ashake with "Dear or cheap, I'll have her.! " he answered, inflamed by opposition and the discovery that the tutor had betrayed him. " I shall go to her now ! She is here." '' That is a lie ! " cried Lady Dunborough. " Lie number one. MOTHEE AND SON. 101 " I suppose i'hose knees II, there is ntly, « you ;heni out," ominously, ed afresh, nd to me, 'e going to ith corre- \g fellow I •r-nothing ! Come, re as you re Lorton i/iem, and and long 7 put this for it as lake with inflamed betrayed numbev " She is in the house at this moment 1 " he cried obstinately. " And I shall go to her." "She is at Bath," said my lady, unmoved. "Ask Thomasson, if you do not believe me." ' " She is not here," said the tutor with an effort. " Dunborough, you'll outface the devil when you meet him ! " my lady added— for a closing shot. She knew how to carry the war into the enemy's country. He glared at her, uncertain what to believe. " I'll see for myself," he said at hist ; but sullenly, and as if he foresaw a check. He was in the act of turning to carry out his intention, when Lady Dunborough, wiLh great presence of mind, called to a servant who was passing the foot of the stairs. The man came. " Go and fetch tliis gentleman the book," she said imperiously, " with the people's names. Bring it here. I want to see it." _ The man went, and in a moment returned with it. She signed to him to give it to Mr. Dunborough. "See for yourself," she said contemptuously. ^ She calculated, and very shrewdly, that as the lawyer and his companions had given tlie name of Soane and taken possession of Sir George's rooms, only the name of Soane would appear in the book. And so it turned out. Mr. Dunborough sought in vain for the name of Masterson or for a party of three, resembling the one he pursued ; he found only the name of Sir George Soane entered when the rooms were ordered. •' Oh I " he said with an execration. " He is here, is he ? Wish you joy of him, my lady I Very well, I go on. Good night, madam ! " The viscountess knew that opposition would stiffen him. " Stop !" she cried. But he was already in the hall, ordering fresh saddle-horses 1 I nil 102 THE CASTLE INN. for himself and Iiis roan. My lady heard the order and stood listening. Mr. Thomasson heard it, and stood quaking. At any moment the door of the room in which the girl was supping might open-it was adjacent to the hall-and she come out, and the two would meet. Nor did the suspense last a moment or two only. Fresh horses could not be ready in a minute, even in those times, when day and night post-horses stood harnessed in the stalls Even Mr. Dnnborough could not be served m a moment, bo he roared for a pint of claret and a crust, sent one servant flying this way, and another that, hectored up and down the entrance, to the admiration of the peeping chambermaids ; and for a while added much to the bustle Once m those minutes the fateful door did open, but it emitted only a waiter. And in the end, Mr. Duuborou-h's horses being announced, he strode out, his spurs ringing on the steps, and the viscountess heard him clattpr away into the night, and drew a deep breath of relief. For a day or two, at any rate, she was saved. For the time, the machina- tions of the creature below stairs were baffled. ;he order, and stood in which mt to the Nor did !sh horses lies, when ;ho stalls. moment. sent one stored up 3 peeping le bustle, n, but it Dorougli's nging on iway into a day or machina- CHAPTER XI. DR. ADDINGTON. It did not occur to Lady Dnnborough-.to ask herself seriously how a girl in the Mastcrsons' position came to be in such quarters as the Castle Inn, and to have a middle- aged and apparently lespcctaUe attorney for a travellino- companion. Or, if hor ladyship did ask herself those questions, she was content with the solution, which tlio tutor :ut of his knowledge of human nature had suggested; namely, that the girl, wily as she was beautiful, knen^that a retreat in good order, flanked after the fashion of her betters by duenna and man of business, doubled her virtue ; and by so much improved her value, and her chance of catching Mr. Dunborough and a coronet. There was one in the house, liowever, who did set himself these riddles, and was at a loss for an answer. Sir Gcor'ro Soane, supping with Dr. Addington, the earl's physician, found his attention wander from the conversation, and uioi'c than once came near to staling the problem which troubled him. The cosy room, in which the two sat, lay at the bottom of a snug passage leading off the principal corridor of the west wing ; and was as remote from the stir and bustle of the more public part of the house as the silent movements of Sir George's servant were from the clumsy haste of the helpers whom the pressure of the moment had compelled the landlord to call in. The physician had taken his supper earlier, but was ''[11 : .1 I 104. THE CASTLE INN. gourmet cnoiigli to follow, now with an approving word, and now with a sigh, the different stages of Sir George's meal. In pnbHc, a starched, dry man, the ideal of a fashionable London doctor of the severer type, he was in private a benevolent and easy friend ; a judge of port, and one who commended it to others; and a man of some weight in the political world. In his early days he had been a mad doctor ; and at Batson's he could still dis- concert the impertinent by a shrewd glance, learned and practised among those unfortunates. With such qualifications, Dr. Addington was not slow to perceive Sir Geoige's absence of mind ; and presuming on old friendship-he had attended the younger man from boyhood— he began to probe for the cause. Raisin^ his half-filled glass to the light, and rolling the last moulhfnl on his tonnrne, , no, Sir 1 heartily, must do feet, and panion. well what oission to at be too rn, might !uce. Sir ing peers gesture of and ruin ncr hang ;h, or put 100 "God forbid ! " eaid the doctor solemnly Sir George shrugged his shoulders, but little by little his face los Its hardness. "Yes, God forbid," he said gently. It 1 r « ii , , , "'*!>- "'" "ere, ana i sent the mtasuKe to his apartments by one of the men." " Well " said Dr. Addington in his' coldest manner, " what has that to do with this gentleman » " » IV'^^i™" "" r"'"^"' "™''«" '"-J' •■"'crvening with a mile '. Ti, party have the rooms that were reserud lor me. And doubtless by an error the message whioli was intended for me was delivered to him." " Ah ! '• said Dr. Addington grnlBy. " I understand." Alas I poor Mr. Fishwiek understood too; and his face, 1 : "■""• '^'"'"i '" ''™' >™^ »'- of tl.0 most comica ight, ever seen. A nervous, sanguine man, the attorney had been immensely elated by the honour paid to him ■ he had thought his cause won and his fortune made. Th downfall was proportionate : in a second his pomp and mportance were gone, and he stood before them tfmidly rubbing one hand on another. Yet even in the ridiculous and w, h all his heroics wasted-he retaiued a sort of manlf- ncss. Dear me, dear me," he said, his jaw fallei "I- jour most humble servant, sir I I offer a thousand ap'ologies for the intrusion ! But having business with his lordshin aid receiving the message,- he ccntinued in a tone of pathetic regret, "it was natural I should thh.k it w^ o™ y^r :;; ,e" '"'"'"""" "" ^""' '"'™»'"" s-"-™' tll' "^'".'.''S""' ''^"•'^d «'iffly ■■ he was not the man to little L h '. " ™''''' ""' "•^f™'" f'-»» I'-ki-'S 'he httle man who so strangely haunted his steps. There was a span glass on the table. fT„ „,„hcd -t ,-1 il, i ™ towards Mr. Fishwiek ""' ^ ""^ ■""" 112 THE CASTLE INN. li; •• There is no harm done," lie said kindly. " A glass of wine with you, cir." Mr. Fishwick, in his surprise and nervousness, dropped hia hat, picked it up, and dropped it again ; finally he let it. lie while he filled his glass. His hand shook ; he was unaccountably agitated. But he managed to acquit himself fairly, and with a " Greatly honoured, Sir George. Good- niglit, gontleracn," he disappeared, "Wliat is in's business with Lord Chatham?" Dr. Addington asked rather coldly. It was plain that he did not approve of Sir George's C( n lescension. " I have no notion," Soane answered, yawning. " But ho has got a very pretty girl with him. Whether she is laying traps for Dunborough " " The viscountess's son ? " " Just so— I cannot say. But that is the old harridan's account of it." " Is she here too ? " " Lord, yes ; and they had no end of a quarrel downstairs. There is a story about the girl and Duuborough. I'll tell it you some time," *' I began to think— he was here on your business," said the doctor. " He ? Oh, no," Sir George answered without suspicion, and turned to look for his candlestick. "I suppose that be is in the case I am in— wants something and comes to the fountain of honour to get it." And, bidding the other good-night, he went to bed ; not to sleep, but to lie awake and reckon and calculate, and add a charge here to interest there, and set both against income, and find nothing remain. He had sneered at the old home because it had been in his family only so many generaiions. But there is this of evil in an old house — it is bad to live in, but worse to part fiuiu t= I DR. ADDINGTON. 113 Sir L.„i'ge, straininjOf his eyes in the darkness, saw the long avenue of elms and the rooks' nests, and the startled birds circling overhead ; and at the end of the vista tlie wide door- way, aed. temp. Jac. 1— saw it all more lucidly than he had seen it since the September morning when ho traversed it, a boy of fourteen, with his first gun on his aiTO. Well, it was gone ; but he was Sir George, macaroni and fashionable, arbiter of elections at Wiiite's, and great at Almack's, more powerful in his sphere than a belted earl ! But, then, that was gone too, with the money— and— and what waa ieft ? Sir George groaned and turned on his pillow and thought of Bland and Fanny Braddock. He wondered if any one had ever left the castle by the suicide door, and, to escape his thoughts, lit a candle and read **La Belle Heloise," which he had in his mail. m O.I. J ft' III i CHAPTER Xir. JULL\. It is certain that if Sir Georg3 Soane had borne any other name, the girl, after tlie conversation which had taken place be ween them on the dingy staircase at Oxford, must have hated him. There is a kind of condescension from man to woman, in which the man says, « My good girl, not for me- bnt do take care of yourself," which a woman of the least pride finds to be of all modes of treatment the most shamsful and the most humiliating. The masterful over- ures of such a lover as Dunborough, who would take all by storm, are still natural, though they lack respect ; a woman would be courted, and sometimes would be courted in the old rough fashion. But, for the other mode of treat- ment, she may be a Grizel, or as patient-a short course of that will sharpen not only her tongue, but her finger-nails ^ Yet this, or something like it, Julia, who was far from being the most patient woman in the world, had suffered at bir George s hands ; believing at the time that he was some one else, or, rather, being ignorant then and for just an hour afterwards that such a person as Sir George Soane existed. li.n ightened on this point and on some others connected with It (which a sagacious reader may divine for himselO the girl's first feeling in face of the astonishing future opening before her had been one of spiteful exultation. She hated him, and he would suffer. She hated him with all her heart and strength, and he would suffer. There were •'"<•* onttt oa-.iciiaeLiuii m the tuoughfc. JULIA. 115 any other ikon place aiust have in man to ; for me — the least the most rful over- 1 take all spect ; a e courted of troat- Dourse of f-nails. far from iffered at pas some ) an hour I existed. 3nnected himself) E? future )n. She with all ere were But presently dwellmg on the matter, she began to relent. The very completeness of the revenge which she had in prospect robbed her of her satisfaction. The man was so dependent on her, so deeply indebted to her, must suffer so much by reason of her, that the maternal instinct, which is said to be developed even in half-grown girls, took him under its protection ; and when that scene occurred in the public room of the Castle Inn and he stood forward to shield her (albeit m an arrogant, careless, half-insolent way that must have wounded her in other circumstances), she 4 not content to forgive him only-with a smile ; but long after her companion had fallen asleep, Julia sat brooding over the fire her arms clasped about her knees ; now rcadin<. the embers with parted lips and shining eyes, and now sighing gently-for la femme propose, mais Dieu dispose." And nothing is certain. After this, it may not have been pure accident that cast lier in Sir George s way when he strolled out of the house next morning. A coach had come in, and was changing horses be ore the porch. The passengers were moving to and fro before the house, grooms and horse-boys Mere shouting and hissing, the guard was throwing out parcels. Soane passed through the bustle, and, strolling to the end of the High Street, saw the girl seated on a low parapet of the bridge that, near the end of the inn gardens, carries the Salisbury road over the Kennet. She wore a plain riding- coat such as ladies then affected when they travelled and won d avoid their hoops and patches. A little hood covered beh,n7' J'^' Tfr''^ ""'^ unpowdered, hung in a club and the's^n "^ ' ^''''' ^'" ^'^'''''" ^'' complexion th^^\T' ^^'"""^^ ^"''^ ^"^ ''"^'^^ ^'^^ the bustle-for "^Salisbury road is the ksn f^-equcnted of the two roads- waa m view of the gates leading to the inn ; and her I 2 116 THE CASTLE INN. extreme beauty, which was that of expression as well a^ feature, made her a mark for a dozen furtive eyes, of which slie affected to be unconscious. But aa soon as Sir George's gaze fell on her, her look met his frankly and she smiled • and then agam her eyes dropped and studied the road before her and she blushed in a way Soane found enchanting. He had been going into the town, but he turned and went to her and sat down on the bridge beside her, ahnost with the air of an old acquaintance. He opened the conversation by saynig that it was a prodigious fine day ; she agreed. That the Downs were uncommonly healthy ; she said the same. And then there was silence. ." w 1! IVV'''^ ''^'' ^ ''^''^^ ' ^^^d J^« looked at her. Well . she answered in the same tone. And she looked at him over the edge of her fan, her eyes laughing. ^^ How did you sleep, child ? " he asked ; while he thought, -Lord ! How handsome she is ! " "Perfectly, sir," she answered, "thanks to your excel- lency's kindness." Her voice as well as her eyes laughed. He stared at her, wondering at the change in her. "You are lively thi mormng," he said. ^ "I cannot say the same of you. Sir George," she answered. When you came out, and before you saw u.e, your face was as long as a coach-horse's." ocen. iliat ^as before I saw you, child," he said. ** In your company ." Do you flatter yourself you are ? " l,ii',"'°;f ™' """■"■''"^'J- He ™ aware that the gul a<)ked neither w,t nor quickness , but hitherto he ha*- -i-'j r fan, " and of her wit, ce. " Miss . "Will you , you might until I was r money to school ? " sk." t children, ray father it, as this ned. And le mystery, m's child ! iniied with I might be sertainly I is better :ed at her eastwards attention, He was ange girl, -TTUtii; UIU JULIa. 121 It matter ? If the best he had to expect was exile on a pittance, a consulship at Genoa, a governorship at Guade- loupe, where would he find a more beautiful, a wittier a gayer companion ? And for her birth— a fico I His great- grandfather had made money in stays ; and the money was gene ! No doubt there would be gibing at White's, and shrugging at Almack's ; but a fico, too, for that-it would not hurt him at Guadeloupe, and little at Genoa. And then on a sudden the fortune of which she had talked came into his head, and he smiled. It might be a thousand ; or two three, four, at most five thousand. A fortune ! He smiled and looked at her. He found her gazing steadily at him, her chin on her hand. Being caught, she reddened and looked away. He took the man's privilege, and continued to gaze, and she to flush . and presently, "What are you looking at?" she said, moving uneasily. _ "A most beautiful face," he answered, with the note of sincerity m his voice whicii a worn m's car never fails to appreciate. She rose and curtsied lou-, perhaps to hide the tell-tale p ensure in her eyes. " Thank you, sir," she said. And plic^drcw back as if she intended to leave him. II But you are not— you are not oflTendcd, Julia ? " " Julia ? " she answered, smiling. " No, but I think it is tune I relieved your highness from attendance. For one thing, I am not quite sure whether that pretty flattery was addressed to Clarissa-or to Pamela. And for another," she contmued more coldly, seeing Sir George wince under this first stroke-he was far from having his mind made up—" I see Lady Dunborough watching us from the windows a« the comer of the house. And I would not for worlds rehcye her ladyship's anxiety by seeming unfaithful to her son." a IZZ THE CASTLE INN. ''You can be spiteful, tlien ?" Soane said, laughing "I can-and grateful," she answered. "In proof of which I am going to make a strange request, Sir George Do not misunderstand it. And yet- it is only that before* you leave hcre-wiiatever be the circumstances under which you leave— you will see me for five minutes." Sir George stared, bowed, and muttered "Too happy" Then obrerving, or fancying he observed, that she was anxious to be rid of him, he took his leave and went into the house. For a man who had descended the stairs an hour before hipped to the last degree, with his mind on a pistol, it must be confessed that he went up with a light step ; albeit, in a mighty obfuscatlon, as Dr. Johnson might have put it. A kinder smile, more honest eyes he swore he had never seen, even in a plain face. Her very blushes, of which the memory .e^, his blase blood dancing to a faster time, were a charaeler in themselves. But-he wondered. She had made such advances been so friendly, dropped such hints-he wondered. He was fresh from the masquerades, from Mrs. Cornelys assemblies, Lord March's converse, the Chudleighs fantasies; the girl had made an appointment — he wondered. For all that, one thing was unmistakable. Life, as he wont up ihe staira, had taken on another an,', a brighter colour ; was fuller, brisker, more generous. From a spare gariet witli one poor easement it had grown in an hour into a palace, vague indeed, but full of rich vistas and rosy dis- ances and quivering delights. The corridor upstairs, which at his going out had filled him with distaste-there we; boots m It, and water-cans-was now the Passage Beautiful , for had lam before him dull and mouotonous-sinee Lord Chatham was too ill to ace him, and he had.uo one with JULIA. 123 whom to game-was now full-furnished with interest, and hung with recollections-recollections of conscious eyes and the .^eetest hps in the world. In a word, Julia had -u^ceeded in that which she had sot herself to do. Sir Geor.Te might wonder. He was none the less in love ■■;i li CHAPTER XIII. A SPOILED CHILD. Julia was riglifc in fancying tiiat she saw Lady Dunboroiifrh's face at one of the windows in the south-east corner of^the house Ihose winilows commanded both the Marlborough High Street and the Salisbury road, welcomed alike the London and the Salisbury coach, overlooked the loungers at the entrance to the town, and supervised most details of the incoming and outgoing worlds. Lady Dunborough had not been up and about half an hour before she remarked these advantages. In an hour her ladyship was installed in that suite, which, though in the east wing, was commonly reckoned to be one of the best in the house. Heaven knows how she did it. There is a pertinacity, shameless and violent, AWuch gains its ends, be the crowd between never so dense. It is possible that Mr. Smith would have ousted her had he dared. It is possible he had to pav forfeit to the ngbttul tenants, and in private cursed her for an old jade ancl a brimstone. But when a viscountess sits herself down in the middle of a room and declines to budge, she cannot with decency be taken up like a sack of hops and dumped m the passage. Her ladyship, tliercfore, won, and had the pleasure of viewing from the coveted window the scene between Julia and Sir George ; a scene which gave her the profoundest satisfaction. What she could not see-her eyes were no imagined. In five -onger all that they had been — shu A SPOILED CHILD. 125 iborongh's ncr of the irlborougb alike the )ungers at ails of the h had not 'kcd these 3d in that jommonly 'en knowa eless and !cn never ve ousted 'eit to the old jade ielf down le cannot dumped jasure of 3en Julia •foundest were no In live minutes she had torn up the last rag of the girl's character and proved her as bad as the worst woman that ever rode down Cheapside in a cart. Lady Dunborough was not mealy-mouthed nor one of those who mince matters. What d,d I tell you ?" she cried. "She will be on with that stuck.np before night, and be gone with morniu-r If Dunborough oomos back he may whistle for her ' " " Mr Thomasson did not doubt that her ladyship u-as right Bu he spoke with indilTercnt spirit. He had had a bud night, had lum anywhere, and dressed nowhere, ond was on ly and unkempt. Apart from the awe in which he stood of her ladyship, he would have returned to Oxford by the first coach that morning. "Dear me!" Lady^Dunborough announced presently. I declare he ,s eavmg her ! L^rd, how the slut ogles him r She IS a shameless baggage if ever there was one; and ruddled to the eyes, as I can see from here. I hope the white may kill her! Well, I'll be bound it won't be long before he is to her again I My fine gentleman is like the rest of them— a damned impudent fellow ' " J!l' ^^^.T'Z ^T'^ "^ ^'' '^'''- ''^^'''^ ™ some- thmg a little odd-does not your lady think so ? "-he ventured to say, "in her taking possession of Sir George's rooms as she did." v^eoi^^e s '^ Did I not say so ? Did I not say that very thin- ? " It seems to prove an understanding between themVefore they met here last night." "I'll take my oath on it ! " her ladyship cri.d with energy. Then in a tone of exultation she continued, « Ah • here he IS again as I thought ! And come round by the str ' to mask the matter! He has down beside her agan Oh loi her spyiug-glass, that she mi-ht mi«s nn " making. ^*' of the love- 126 THE CASTLE INN. N The tutor waa all ^... ladyship's stratagem," he said uight." complacence. "It proves that your was to the point last "Oh Dunborongh will live to thank mo for that ' " sho answered. " Gadzooh, he will ! It is first come first'served w,th_ these madams. This will open his eyes if anything " Still-it is to be hoped she will leare before he returns," Mr. Thomasso,, sa,d, with a slight shiver of antieipation. Ho knew Mr. Duuborough's temper. „„?'"-'^'" '"^ 'f^"",'""""- "^"^ <^™ if she does not There she broke off, and stood peering throngh ";:i;:;t«;isr''*^ The fury of her tone, no less than the cxpletive-wbieh we h ve ventured to 8„ften-st,,rtlcd Mr. 'Th„nK,ss„n to M feet. Approaehmg the window in Cepidation-for her h. • Bring him np, do yon b™,- "" '^ "'" """^ " "»"'• quLkir •' I ? •' ' " '"" "'■• '''''°""^°"' '"■» ^^^"t" »«"•"«? " Yes, you ! ff lio else ? " t}J' ?,7i''~''°'; ■°^' ''"'■"' ''"'^' '"= '■'-h'' <=»!. be very violent " ^^ -id be bette,., eieHn'^:;\tzr::^:!!.r^^^^ «T« 1 , • 'o.e. n,y ,,.dy , mJ t^^L^ ^T" 7'""'' accepted him ?» ^tJiusta iiim ! She has not NevertS':i™ ',l.':t .?""^''^°"^'> »>-•»'«<■ - -0.U Bo8l,,man!" ^•'"''''"'- "^'" '"^^''PW liim ? t»t« B™d ''"IL''' rr'^ '" "^^ b^f°«?" the 'feoescea. lhere~oh, he is f^nminn. ,-», » ri„ u-_ iic has Seen us." a "- • ^-ic uua — i"" 128 THE CASTLE INN. It was too true. Mr. Dimborough, approaching the door with a lowering face, had looked up as if to see what witnesses there were to his discomfiture. His eyes met his mother's. She shook her fist at him. " Ay, he has/' sho said, her tore more moderate. " And, Lord, it must be as you say I He is in a fine temper, if I am any judge." " I think," said Mr. Thomasson, looking round, " I had better — better leave — your ladyship to see him alone." " No," said my lady firmly. " But— but Mr. Danborough," the tutor pleaded, " may like to see you alone. Yes, I am sure I had better go." " No," said my lady more decisively ; and she laid her hand on the hapless tutor's arm. " But— but if your ladyship is afraid of— of his violence," Mr. Thomasson stuttered, " it will be better, surely, for me to call some — some of the servants." " Afraid ? " Lady Dunborough cried, supremely con- temptuous. " Do you think I am afraid of my own son ? And such a son I A poor puppet," she continued, purposely raising her voice as a step sounded outside, and Mr. Dunborough, flinging open the door, appeared like an angry Jove on the threshold, "who is fooled by every ruddled woman he meets 1 Ay, sir, I mean you ! You ! Oh, I am not to be browbeaten, Dunborough ! " she went on ; "and I will trouble you not to kick my furniture, you unmannerly puppy. And out or in 's no matter, but shut the door after you." Mr. Dunborough was understood to curse everybody i after which he fell into the chair that stood next the door, and, sticking his hands into his breeches-pockets, glared at my lady, his face flushed and sombre. " Hoity-toity 1 are these manners ? " said she. " Do you see this reverend gentleman ? " " Ay, and G d him 1 " crind Mr. Dnnbftmiifrli ig the door ) see what res met hia 3 has," sho must be as cige." id, " I had one. 5» led, "may ir go.' le laid her violence," ely, for me inely con- own son ? , purposely and Mr. 3 an angry y ruddled 1 ! Ob, I went on ; iture, you ', but shut ^erybody ; the door, , glared at " Do you A SPOILED CHILD. 129 With a very strong expletive; "but I'll make him smart for It by-anri-by. You have ruined me among you " " Saved you, you mean," said Lady Dunborough with complacency, " if you are worth saving-which, mind you I very much doubt, Dunborough." ' "If I had seen her last night," he answered, drawing a long breath. "It would have been different. For that I have thank you two. You sent me to lie at Bath, and tl)ought you had got rid of me. But I am back, and I'll remember it, my lady I I'll remember you too, y'ou lying " You common, low fellow ! " said my lady. at tht^fl t^\ T^ ; •' 'f ^' ' '''^ '''^" "^ '^'''' b^^t stared at he floor before him, his jaw set, and his brow as black as a under-cloud. He w. a powerful man, and, ^ith that face, a dangerous man. For he was honestly in love • the love was coarse, brutal, headlong, a passion to curse' the Oman who accepted it ; but it wa. not the less love for with fi,? 1 T ''^' '' ""'' ''''^ ^ ^'''' '' fi^I« the veins ^ith fire, and drives a man to desperate things : as was proved by his next words. ^ and l^n" 'if'fr '™'"^ y^"'" ^' «^^d' ^^' tone dull las? S' T ' "':' "'" ^" ^"•^'^- " If I '^-^ «een her Zt «lf. \Z ^""' J"^'P^^ '' '^' You tell me why not » cJi 1 ^^'^f «"\this morning. There is a change L heV Gad, my lady," with a bitter laugh, " she is a. Ja<] , wi as you, and better I And I'd have^^d t^ ^^tr .^o f [ shall carrv her off \r,A ie «!,„ ^ handsome neck r "''''' "^ ' ''''' ^^"^^ ^-• It is noticeable that he did not adduce anv reason whv the nigh had changed her. Only he had got "it firmly in o his head that, but for the delay thev UA LJJlTJl'" be well, ^-othing could move him fromThi; '* '"^ ''""^" K 130 THE CASTLE INN. i< , "Now I Ghall run away with her," he repeated *' She won't go with you," my lady cried with scorn. I shant ask her," ho answered. "When there is no choice she will come to it. I tell you I shall carry her off. And If I am taken and hanged for it, I'll be hanged at Papworth— before your window." fatheT "' ^°'' '™P^^^°°'" sl^e' said. - Go home to your " All right, my lady," he answered, without liftin- his eyes from the carpet. "Now you know. It will be°yonr 1 win I. t' T' '." ^^'' ^"' '' ' ^- ^^^ken and hanged night, but I'll take pams to-day. If I don't nave her I shall never have a wife. But I will have her " " Fools cry for the moon," said my lady. " Auy way, get m of my room You are a fine talker, but I warrant ^u will take care of your neck." "I shall carry her off and marry her," he repeated, his pockeT "'' ' ^'"' '^'"^ '"''^'°^ '^' '^''''y i^ 1^'« " It is a distance to Gretna," she answered. « You'll be nearer ,t outside my door, my lad. So be stepping, will you ?^ And If you take my advice, you will go t my "All right; you know," he said sullenly. "For that sneak there, if he comes in my way, I'll break every hone m his body Good-day, my lady. When I see you agaL I will have Miss with me." ^ " Like enough ; but not Madam," she retorted. "You are That was her parting shot ; for all the feeling she had shown, from the opening to the close of the intefv ew she might have been his worst enpmv Y^t ,f.., , r_V ' , J . . ..[. tiit^r a iushion, and to your A SPOILED CHILD. jgj J no crestfallen tutor conlrl nnf ;„ of a .o.o„d ™com,ta' ''° *™ "■•■"' '''^ 'i^'' " ^ f'"™'' l""i." the viscountess answered " Sn ^. go and find this baggage, and drop a wo d to he.- toj"^ company you understand. Lord I he ra "h m J . ^°, " way yet. For onee away she "ould "ave l 1^ \'."'*' It 8 trod s mercy and her madness " miMh t-i, • Piou^y^ "Shemayyet. AndTw'onJ ht\r ^l^: Pi-omiaed all alon. .Zi Tn '- - '°^ ^"^ ^''" remote and imnossihl^ ' r^ ^^ ^^'^"''^ °«^' » impossible contingency was attached to it. K 2 132 THE CASTLE INN. fit Alas ! the tutor saw very clearly that my lady's promises were pie-crust, made to be broken. She caught the look, but attributed it to another cause. " What do you fear, man ? " she said. " She ! he is out of , the house by this time." Mr. Thomasson would not have ventured far on that assurance, but he had liimself seen Mr. Dunborough leave the house and pass to the stables ; and anxious to escape for a time from his terrible patroness, he professed himself ready. Knowing where the rooms, which the girl's party occupied, lay, in the west wing, he did not call a servant, but went through the house to them and knocked at the door. He got no answer, so gently opened the door and peeped in. He discovered a pleasant airy apartment, looking by two windows over a little grass plot that flanked the house on that side, and lay under the shadow of the great Druid mound. The room showed signs of occupancy— a lady's cloak cast over a chair, a great litter of papers on the table. But for the moment it was empty. He was drawing back, satisfied with his survey, when he caught the sound of a heavy tread in the corridor behind him. He turned ; to his horror he discerned Mr. Dunborough striding towards him, a whip in one hand, and in the other a note ; probably the note was for this very room. At the same moment Mr. Dunborough caught sight of the tutor, and bore down on him with a view halloa. Mr. Thomas- son's hair rose, his knees shook under him, he all but sank down where he was. Fortunately at the last moment his better angel came to his assistance. His hand was still on the latch of the door ; to open it, to dart inside, and to siioot the bolt were the work of a second. Trembling he heard Mr. Dunborough come up and slash the door with his — ^.. an., ...en, (.ujii.^iiLta niLu EuiB iiuuiuiibDraGion pass on, A SPOILED CHILD, 133 after Aoutmg thrcngh the panels that the tutor need not flatter himself-he would catch him by-and-by Mr. Thomasson devoutly hoped he would not , and 8weat.ng at every pore, sat down to recover himself.' Though all was quiet, he suspected the enemy of lyino- in wait; and rather than run into his arms was prepare! to rtay where he was at any risk of discovery by the occupants. Or there might be another exit. Going to one of the windows to ascertain this, he found that there was, an outside staircase of stone alTordiug egress to the grass plot. He m^ht go that way ; but no !-at the base of the Druid mound he perceived a group of townsfolk and ruslics Btarmg at the Bank of the building-staring apparently a" him. He recoiled ; then ho remembered that Lord Chatham's rooms lay m that wing, and also looked over the gardens Doubt ess the countiyfolk were watching i„ the hope tlmt he great man would show himself at a window, or that, at IthTLdld.'^'' "' *^ ""* '"^^^ '""^ ^ ^'"^- nnhlti' ''!™.';7°f '"•" '^'='<=™™ he espied three people strolling at their leisure, their backs towards hira His fffl urin'^V"" ^»^^ ""borough's, and he had no dithculty m making out the three to be Julia, her mother Freed fro?tn- ^/^^—ing towards the Ba^ o^: Freed from the fear of mtemiption, he heaved a sigh of relief and hoosmg the most comfortable chair, sat dofn on been tul ''"?? "" """'' ="'" <"' "^ ^^"^' - ^'- elbow rste^n " ™' f " "f P'P™- M^- Thomasson's eioow rested on one. He went to move it ; in the act he mel- 'Vr''"°7 "?'' '■' '"« '^' -" -" "-^-"0 .■rthriit;':ff ^^' '"'"'^' ''™"»'' "^ ^^'-""^^ "-". 134 THE CASTLE INN. Tut- ut! said the tutor. "That is not Soane's will, that IS his grandfather's." And between idleness and curiosity, not unmiugled with surprise, he read the will to the end. Beside it lay three or four narrow slips ; he examined these, and found them to be extracts from a register Apparently some one was trying to claim under the will ; but Mr. Thomasson did not follow the steps or analyse the pedigrce-his mind was engrossed by perplexity on another point. His thoughts might have been summed up in the lines— "I^'ot that the things themselves are rich or rare, The wonder's how the devil they got there "--' in a word, how came the papers to be in that room ? Ihese must be Soane's rooms," he muttered at last, looking about him. « And yct-that's a woman's cloak. And that old cowskin bag is not Sir George's. It is odd. Ah! What IS this ? ^ Tiiis was a papor, written and folded brief-wise, and indorsed : " Statement of the Claimant's case for the wor- shipful consideration of (ho Kight Honourable the Earl of ^.hatham and others the trustees of the Estcombe Hall Estate. Witliout Prejudice." "So! "said the tutor. "This may be intelligible." And hav.ng assui-e.l himself by a furtive glance through the V ^i-^;^ that the owners of the room were not returuiug, he settled himself to peruse it. When he again looked up, which was at a point about one-third of the way through the document, his face wore a look of r.pt, incredulous, latuous astonishmanfc. CHAPTER XIV. A GOOD man's dilemma. Ten minutes later Mr. Thomasson Blid back the bolt, and opening the door, glanced furtively up and down the passage beeiug no one, he came out, closed the door behind him, and humming an air from the " Buona Figliuola," which was then the fashion, returned slowly, and with apparent de- liberation, to the cast wing. There he hastened to hide himself in a small closet of a chamber, which he had that morning secured on the second floor, and having bolted the door behind him, he plumped down on the scanty bed, and stared at the wall. He was the prey of a vast amazement. "Jupiter ! " he muttered at last, " what a-a Pactolus I have missed I Three months ago, two months ago, she would have gone on her knees to marry me ! And with all that money-Lord ! I would have died Bishop of Oxford lh!^k7T'^' ' ^'''"''^^' ^ '"" ^' '" ^'^^ '"^^'^^ ^'^^^ I* He paused awhile to roll the morsel on the palate of his rniagmation, and found that the pathos of it almost moved n orP n T'l "' ^'^''' ^'""^ ^' ^'^^ ^''"^ the clouds to niore practical matters. The secret was his, but what was he going to do with it ? Where make his market of it ? Une by one he considered all the persons concerned. To »egm with, there was her ladvshin. B"t fhp ^n-'I-dc^- ^-^ not greatly affect the viscountess,\nd he did not tr^usTber" 136 THE CASTLE INN. Z h. t ",7^;="'f ' """"y '"■ "° '"°"oy was all one to i im, ho would take the girl ,f he eouhl got her. IFc «.,3 dismissed „. equally hopeleas. Soane came n.U; but S George e.ther knew the seeret, or must know it sJon , and nrnfofl L™' "fr^'V""' ""■"l™'! '""S. '■« discerned the end Sir George too was set aside There remained only the Buona Figliuola-the girl herself I m.ght pay my court to her," the tutor though", " b t she won d have a spite against me for last nightWork a d I doubt 1 could not do much. To be sure, I might put L Ztlif't" r="™' !""'^"'™""' »"^ '™^' '» he'rg.rtu but .t « to, ,, one she would not believe me. Or I could lot h,m play i„s trick-if he is fool enough to nut his n Z ^'Z7r' '''" " "".' ""'' "^'- ■'" '"» '«•'' -"" "' Ah . Ml. Ihomasson continued, looking up to the ceihnir ma flabby ecstasy of appreciation, "If uZ the ' i . i That were a game to play indeed, Frederick Thomasson "" ' t was but ,t was hazardous , and the schemer rose ind ht dat ^fT' '° "r™' " ^"'»' '"""' «f f-d =' his claim. He found none, however ; and presently with I m f-c, lie took out ., letter which he had'S „ the eve of his departure from O.vford-a letter ma din threatening process and arrest. The sum was on"w",id a tne receipt of the letter the tutor, long familiar with em barrassment, had taken the matter lightly. But the IcZ was to the point, and meant business-a spungi g hout and the Fleet, and with the cold shade of the Eules^ nmediate prospect, Mr. Thomasson saw himself at h wits" Liim'i'stitrr ^'''' -' '•^--"^ '-^'^^^ ^^ It was the all one to He was ; ; but Sir ioou ; and discerned e had not net ; so in irl herself. " but she rk, and I t put her ratitudc ; I' I could his neck moment, e ceiling- 2onr ■' "'en he went .entlLanhadlSf BS'^^tt'T"' "'=" '^"^ middling black temn-r " fj^ ., P°*'-<-'l«'w. " In a revereno'Csene™.' • '' ™"" ^^^'^' "»""g y°« mi "at ascertained, the tutor needed no more. He knew 'i 138 THE CASTLE INN. tliat Dunborough, on his way to foreign service, had hu'n ton (lays in Bristol, whistling fur a wind ; that he had landed tiiore also on his return, and made— on his own authority- some queer friends there. Bristol, too, was the port for tlie plantations ; a slave-mart under the rose, with the roughest of nil the English seatown populations. There were houses at Bristol where crimping was the least of the crimes com- mitted ; in the dofiks, where the great ships, laden Avith sugar and tobacco, sailed in and out in their seasons, lay sloops and skippei-s, ready to carry all comci-s, criminal and victim alike, beyond the reach of the law. The very name gave Mr. Thoraasson pause ; he could have done with Gretna —which Lord Hardwicke's Marriage Act had lately raised to importance— or Berwick, or Harwich, or Dover. But Bristol had a grisly sound. From Marlborough it lay no more than forty miles away by the Chippenham and Marsh- field road ; a post-chaise and four stout horses might cover the distance in four hours. He felt, as he sneaked into the house, that the die was cast. The other intended to do it then. And that meant— " Oh, Lord," he muttered, wiping his brow, " I shall never dare I If he is there himself, I shall never dare I " As he crawled upstairs he went hot one moment and shivered the next ; and did, not know whether he was glad or sorry that the chance would be his to take. Foilunately, on reaching the first floor he remembered that Lady Dunborough had requested him to, convey her compliments to Dr. Addington, with an inquiry how Lord Chatham did. The tutor felt that a commonplare inter- view of this kind would settle his nerves ; and having learned the position of Dr. Addington's apartments, he found his way down the snug passage of which we know and knocked at the door. A voice, disagreeably raised, was speaking on the other side of the door, but paused at l»l > d lain ton ad landed ithority— rt for the •' roughest re houses racs coni- deii Avith asons, lay linal and cry name bh Gretna sly raised 'er. But it lay no i Marsh- jht cover die was meant — all never ' Ashe ered the jrry that embered ivey her )w Lord ;e inter- having snts, he 'e know raised, -used at A GOOD man's dilemma. l.jf) the sound of his knock. Some one said " Come in," and he entered. lie found Dr. Addington standing on the hearth, stiff as a poker and swelling with dignity. Facing him stood Mr Fishwick. The attorney, flustered and excited, cast a look at Mr. Thomasson as if his entrance were an added grievance ; but that done, went on with his complaint ;i tell you, sir," he said, "I do not understand this. His lordship was able to travel yesterday, and last evening he was well enough to see Sir George Soane." "He did not see him," the physician answered stifTy. There 18 no class which extends less indulgence to another than the higher grade of professional men to the lower grade While to Sir George Mr. Fishwick was an odd little man.' comic, and not altogether inestimable, to Dr. Addin-ton he was an anathema. '^ "I said only, sir, that he was well enough to see him," he lawyer retorted querulously. " Be that as it may, his lordship was not seriously ill yesterday. To-day I haA-e business of the utmost importance with him, and am wiUinc. to wait upon him at any hour. Nevertheless you tell m^ that I cannot see him to-da3s nor to-morrow 1" Jinly! '" '" P'*^^^^^"^^ the next day," the doctor answered nexfda"^^^^^^ "" ^''"^^^ '^ ^ ^^-^- ^'^or the "No, nor the next day, so far as I can judge." But I must see him I I tell you, sir, I must^ see him," withZ" '?"''''''• " ' '"'^ ^'^ "^^^^ '-P-^-t I'— " The most important ? " " The most important I " "My dear dr," Dr. Addington said, raisins hi« hu.A .^^ clearly aeur the end of his patience, - my ans;er" isThat ^ou II I'^O THE CASTLE INN. i shall see him-when he is well enough to be seen, and chooses to see you, and not before ! For myself, whether you see him now or never sec him, is no business of mine. But It IS my business to be sure that his lordship dors not risk a life which is of incstimablo value to his country." " But— but yesterday he was well enough to travel I " murmured the lawyer, somewhat awed. « I- 1 do not like this 1 " The doctor looked at the door. I— I believe I am being kept from his lordship I " Mr. Fishwick persisted, stuttering ncrvoudy. •' And there are people whose interest it is to keep me from his lordship I warn you, sir, that if anything happens in the mean- time " The doctor rang the bell. " I shall Jiold you responsible ! " Mr. Fishwick cried passionately, " I consider this a most mysterious illness. I repeat, I " But apparently that was the last straw. " Mysterious ? " the doctor cried, his face purple with indignation. " Leave the room, sir ! You are not sane, sir ! By God, you ought to be shut up, sir ! You ought not to be allowed to go about. Do you think that you are the only person who wants to see His Majesty's Minister ? Here is a courier come to-day from His Grace the Duke of Grafton, and to- morrow there will be a score, and a king's messenger from His Majesty among them— and all this trouble is given by a miserable, little, paltry, petti Begone, sir, before I say too much I " he continued trembling with anger. And then to the servant, "John, the door! the door! And see that this person does not trouble me again. Be good enough to communicate in writing, sir, if you liave anythin<^ to say." ^ "^ With which poor Mr. Fishwick was hustled out' ■ ) ■ ■ I A GOOD man's dilemma. 141 seen, and f, whether 1 of mine, t dors not ntrj." travel I " ) not like lip 1 " Mr. there are lordship. le meau- ick cried 18 illness. erious .'' " " Leave jfod, you lowed to rson who a courier , and to- ?cr from given by before I T, And r I And Be good mything ed out' protesting but not convinced. It is seldom, the better side of human nature that lawyers see ; nor is an attorney's omce or a barrister's chamber, the soil in which a luxiirlj ,c crop of confidence is grown. In common with manv persons of warm feelings, but narrow education, Mr. i.shwick was ready to believe on the smallest evidence—or on no evi- dence at ail-that the rich and powerful were leagued against hjs client ; that justice, if he were not very sharp, would be denied him ; that the heavy purse had a knack of out- weighing the righteous cause, even in England ^nd in the eighteenth century. And the fact that all hi, ».. pes were zt^kcd on this case, that all his resources were embarked in It, tiia^ it had fallen, as it were, from heaven into his hands— where; re the greater the pity if things went amins- 1 under 1 him peculiarly captious and impracticable. Jf U-r ■ us every day, nay, every hour, that passed without bringiutr him to Lord ri.af ham's presenr ■ augmented his suspense and doubled his anxiety. To be put off, not one day, but two days, three days-what might not happen in three days I-was a thing intolerablo, insufferable ; a thing to bring the heavens down in pity on his head ! What wonderif he rebelled hourly ; and being routed, as we have seen him routed, muttered dark hints in Julia's ear, and snubbed in that quarter also, had no resource but to shut Himself up m his sleeping-pluce, and there brood miserably over his suspicions and surmises ? Even when the lapse of twenty-four hours brought the 8«-arm of couriers, messengers, and expresses which Dr Addington had foretold ; when the High Street of Marl- borongh-a name henceforth written on the page of history -became but a slowly moving line of coaches and chariots bearing the select of the county to wait on the grout Mmister ; when the little town itself began to throb with uuusuai me, and to take on airs of fashion, by reason uz THE CASTLE INN. Of the crowd that lay in it ; when the Duke of Grafton him- self was reported to be but a stage distant, and there detained bj the Earl s express refusal to see him ; when tlie veij KIiVG It was rumoured, was coming on the same business ; when in a word, It became evident that the eyes of half England were turned to the Castle Inn at Marlborough, where England's great statesman lay helpless, and gave no sign, though the wheels of state creaked and all but stood still-even then Mr Fishwick refused to be satisfied, declined to be com- forted. In place of viewing this stir and bustle, this comin- and going as a perfect confirmation of Dr. Addington's statement, and a proof of his integrity, he looked askance at It. He saw m it a demonstration of the } owers ranked against him and the principalities he had to combat ; he felt, m face of it, how weak, how poor, how insignificant he was ; and at one time despaired, and at another \vas m a irenzy, at one time wearied Julia with pro- phecies of treachery, at another poured his forebodings mto the more sympathetic bosom of the elder woman. The reader may laugh ; but if he has ever staked his all on a cast. If he has taken up a hand of twelve trumps, only to hear the ominous word - misdeal ! " he will find something in Mr. Fishwick's attitude neither unnatural nor blame" worthy. ji CHAPTER XV. AMOHIS INTi;GRATrO. During the early days of tl.c Minister's illness, when as wc hmo seen all the political world of England were turning their coaches-and-six towards the Castle Inn, it came to be the custom for Julia to go every morning to the little brido-e over the Kennct, thence to M-utch the panorama of depar- tures and an-ivals; . ,d for Sir George to join her there vithout excuse or explanation, and as if, indeed, nothino- in he world were more natural. As the Earl's illness con- tinued to detain all who desired to see him~from the Duke ot Grafton's parliamentary secretary to the humhlost aspirant to a tide-waitership-Soanewas not the only one who had time on his hands, and sought to while it awav in the com- pany of the fair. The shades of Preshute' churchyard, f om the Castle Inn and hard by the Kennet, formed the chosen haunt of one couple. A second pair favoured a sea situate on the west side of the Castle Mound, and well "hers' ''"'' "'" ''' '"" '' "" ^"^^"^•- ^"^ ^'-- These Corydons, however, were at ease ; they backed free from care ,n the smiles of their Celias. But Soaie, , his philandernig, had to do with black care that wouk be ,log his thoughts, and draw a veil before the future. The 144 THE CASTLE INN. i i prospect of losinf? Estcombe, of ssei'ug the family Lares broken and cast out, and the family stem, tender and young, yet not ungracious, snapped off short, wrung a heart that belied his cold exterior. Moreover, when all these had been sacrificed, he was his own judge how far he could without means pursue the life which he was living. Suspense, anxiety, sordid calculation were ever twitching his sleeve, and would have liis attention. Was the claim a valid claim,' and must it prevail ? If it iirovailed, how was he to live ; and where, and on what ? Would the Minister grant his suit for a place or a pension ? Should he prefer that suit, or might he still by one deep night and one great hand at hazard win back the thirty thousand guineas he had lost in five years ? Such qucsti(nis, troubling him whether he would or no, and forcing themselves on his attention when thoy were least welcome, ruffled at last the outward composure on which as a man of fashion he plumed himself. He would fall silent in Julia's company, and turning his eyes from her, in unworthy forgetful ness, would trace patterns in the dust with his cane, or stare by the minute together at the quiet stream that moved sluggishly beneath them. Oil these occasions she made no attempt to rouse him. But when he again awukc to the world, to the coach passing in its cloud of dust, or the gaping urchin, or the clang of the distant dinner-bell, he would find her considering him with an enigmatical smile, that lay in the region between araiiscmont and jjity ; her shapely cnin resting on her hand, and the lace falling from the ^ iiitest wrist in the world.' One day the smile lasted so long, was so strange and dubious, and &o full of a weird intelligence, that it chilled him ; it crept to his bones, disconcerted him, and set him wonde-ing. The uneasy questions that had haunted him at the first, recurred. Why was tliis girl so facile, who liad seemed so AMOEIS INTEaRATIO. 145 his ThL , 1 ""■ "'"■"P''^' ''"I'l'ng iior cjes with What docs jour smil„ ,„ean, I'ulehcrrima ? " .hea.,^^,^,rt,::rSt^tf^«'^°-^^^^^^ ^_Im^s„bIo!"hosaid. "Ivow.JuIit^,, uont vow," she answered nuicklv <'a,.„i -some other time-I may not bo ,ll / ,, • "" ''"" ^^ were not thinking of meSi! r . ''"''"'= ^°° ' Y»n the avenue o rtlch "a t' d I'T'AT "' '""' '"•«'». "-d rooks lived, and the rive rt whilv 'T '" "'''"'' '^» were wondering to whom thw w^ T """^ '" ^'^- ^"^ possess them, and who Zld I T ^- ^°,' "'"' "*» ''"M you were horn, andTtu^J rin'tu """ !" ^''■«'' your father died." ° "o"' ■" which fac7" "^ ' """'' ■' " *■« ^M'-Pa^o. of pain crossing his ^proving yonr mannem. Sir G o?^e V " ^ "'" Pohte.thatpresentl^ou^iUeontrm;"''™ "" "'"' '" tbe^srtrp::::ei:7:^'^'«.' ■«»»« -t h,™ „„ «*% the oath o?-tr:r;i!r »^ -' ■"■^'='"°" L !i (I 146 THF. CASTLE INN. p curiosity, and kept him amused. " Suppose I consult you now ?" he said. She swiino^ her fan to and fro, playing with it childishly, looking at the light through it, and again dropping it until it hung fi-om her wrist by a ribbon. "As your highness pleases," she said at last. " Only I wai-n you, that I am not the Bottle Conjuror." •' No, for you are here, and he was not there," Sir George answered, affecting to speak in jest. " But tell me ; what shall I do in this case ? A claim is made against me.' "It's the bomb," she said brightly, "that burst, Sir George, is it not ? " " The same. The point is, shall I resist the claim, or shall I yield to it ? What do you say, ma'am ? " She tossed up her fan and caught it deftly, and looked to him for admiration. Then, " It depends," she said. " Is it a large claim ? " " It is a claim — for all I have," he answered slowly. It was the first time he had confessed that to any one, except to himself in the night watches. If he thought to touch her, he succeeded. If he had fancied her unfeeling before, he did so no longer. She was red one minute and pale the next, and the tears came into her eyes. " Oh," she cried, her breast heaving, " you should not have told me 1 Oh, why did you tell me ? " And she rose hurriedly as if to leave him ; and then sat down again, the fan quivering in her hand. " But you said ;-ou would advise me ! " he answered in surprise. " I ! Ob, no 1 no I " she cried. "But you mu«!t ! " he persisted, more deeply moved than he would show. " I want your advice. I want to know how the case looks to another. It is a simple question. ri- AMORIS INTEGRATIO. 147 " Fight or yield ? " she said, her voice broken by agita- tion. " Shall you fight or yield ? You ask me ? " " Yes." "Then fight! Fight!" she answered, with surprising emotion : and she rose again to her feet. And again sat down. " Fight them to the last, Sir George ! " she cried breathlessly. "Let the creatures have nothing! Not a penny ! Not an acre ! " " But— if it is a righteous claim ? " he said, amazed at her excitement. "Righteous ? " she answered passionately. " How can a claim be righteous that takes all that a man has ? " He nodded, and studied the road awhile, thinking less of her advice than of the strange fervour with which she had given it. At the end of a minute he was surprised to hear her laugh. He felt hurt, and looked up to learn the reason ; and was astounded to find her smiling at him as lightly and gaily as if nothing had occurred to interrupt her most whimsical mood ; as if the question he had put to her had not been put, or were a farce, a jest, a mere pastime ! " Sho, Sir George," she said, " how silly you must think me to proffer you advice ; and with an air as if the sky were falling ? Do you forgive me ? " " I forgive you that,'' Sir George answered. But, poor fellow, he winced under her sudden change of tone. " That is well," she said confidently. '« And there again, do you know you aic changed ; you would not have said that a week ago. I have most certainly improved your manners." Sir George made an effort to answer her in the same strain. " Well, I should improve," he said. " I come very regularly to school. Do you know how many days we have Eat here, ma helle ? " A faiut colouf tinged her cheek. '• If I do not, that dreadful L 2 1^-' ■'«!! :* § 148 THE CASTLE INN. Mr. Thomasson does," she answered. "I believe he never lets me go out of his sight. And for what you say about days— what are days, or even weeks, when it is a question of reforming a rake, Sir George ? Who was it you named to me yesterday," she continued archly, but with her eyes on the toe of her shoe which projected from her dress, " who carried the gentleman in,'::) the country when he had lost I don't know how many thousaud pounds ? tind kept him there out of harm's way ? '" " It was Lady Carlisle," Fir George answered drily ; " and the gentleman was her husband." It was Jnifa's turn to draw figures in the dust of the loadway, which she did very indusiriougly ; and the two were dlent for qui(« a lung time, while some one's heart bumped as if it would boke her. At length—" He was not quite ruined, was bo ? '' she t^*".d, with elaborate careless- ??38s ; her voice was a little thick— perhaps by reason of the bumping. " Lord, no ! " said Sli George. " And I am, you see." "While I am not your wife ! " she answered ; and flashed her eyes on him in sua len petulance ; and then, " Well, perhaps if my lady had her choice— to be wife to a rake can be no bed of roses, Sir George ! While to be wife to a ruined rake— perhaps to be wife to a man who, if he were not ruined, would treat you as the dirt beneath his feet, beneath his notice, beneath " She did not seem to be able to finisli the sentence, but rose choking, her face scarlet. He rose more slowly. "Lord 1 " he said humbly, looking at her in astonishment,* "what has come to you suddenly ? What has made you angry with me, child ? " " Child ? " she exclaimed. " Am I a child ? You play with me as if I were I " «< Plow TOi'fV. TT,Mi 5 »' oj- n ouiix, auiuDiouiided ; he was AMORIS INTEGRATIO. 149 , '» quite taken aback by her sudden vehemence. " My dear girl, 1 cannot understand you. I am not playing with you. If any one is playing, it is you. Sometimes— I wonder whether you hate me or love me. Sometimes I am happy enough to think the one ; sometimes— I think the other " " It has never struck you," she said, speaking with her head high, and in her harshest and most scornful tone, " that I may do neither the one nor the other, but be pleased to kill my time with you— since I must stay here until my lawyer has done his business ? " " Oh ! " said Soanc, staring helplessly at the angry beauty, "if that be all " ^ " That is all 1 " she cried. « Do you understand ? That is all." He bowed gravely. " Then I am glad that I have been of use to you. That at least," he said. " Thank you," she said drily. « I am going into the house now. I need not trouble you farther." And sweeping him a curtsey that might have done honour to a duchess, she turned and sailed away, the picture of dis- dain. But when her face was safe from his gaze and he could no longer see them, her eyes filled with tears of shame and vexation ; she had to bite her trembling lip to keep them back. Presently she slackened her speed and almost stopped— then hurried on, when she thought that she heard him following. But he did not overtake her, and Julia's step grew slow again, and slower until she reached the portico. ^ Between love and pride, hope and shame, she had a hard fight ; happily a coach was unloading, and she could stand and feign interest in the passengers. Two young fellows fresh from Bnfh font «"« "«^ k— ^ „■ u • i ■"■ '"^ "'^ nci -ejus; uuc one who stared too markedly she withered with a look, and, if the truth be 160 THE CASTLE INN. 1:4-' i 'I H told, her fingers tingled for his ears. Her own ears were on the alert, directed backwards like a hare's. Would he never come ? Was he really so simple, so abominably stupid, so little versed in woman's ways ? Or was he playing with her ? Perhaps, he had gone into the town ? Or trudged up the Salisbury road ; if so, and if she did not see him now, she might not meet him until the next morning ; and who could say what might happen in the interval ? True, he had promised that he would not leave Marlborough without seeing her ; but things had altered between them since then. At last — at last, when she felt tliat her pride would allow her to stay no longer, and she was on the point of going in, the sound of his step cut short her misery. She waited, her heart beating quickly, to hear his voice at her elbow. Presently she heard it, but he was speaking to another ; to a coarse rough man, half servant half loafer, who had joined him, and was in the act of giving him a note. Julia, out- wardly cool, inwardly on tenterhooks, saw so much out of the corner of her eye, and that the two, while they spoke, were looking at her. Then the man fell back, and Sir George, purposely averting his gaze and walking like a man heavy in thought, went by her ; he passed through the little crowd about the coach, and was on the point of disappearing through the entrance, when she hurried after him and called his name. He turned^ between the pillars, and saw her. " A word with you, if you please," she said. Her tone .was icy, her manner freezing. Sir George bowed. " This way, if you please," she con- tinued imperiously ; and preceded him across the hall and through the opposite door and down the steps to the gardens, that had once been Ladv Hertford's delii'ht. Nor did she pause or look at him until they were half-way across the i were on he never tupid, so ring with r trudged tiini now, and who True, he I without 2m since aid allow going in, lited, her r elbow, ther ; to id joined Lilia, out- h out of py spoke, and Sir je a man )ugh tlie point of ied after * A word icy, her she con- hall and gardens, !* did she ;ros8 the AMORIS INTEGRATIO. 151 lawn, then she turned, and with a perfect change of face and manner, smiling divinely in the sunlight, " Easy her motioa seemed, serene her air," she held out her hand. •' You have come — to beg my pardon, I hope ? " she said. Tiic smile she bestowed on him was an April smile, the I'lightcr for the tears that lurked behind it ; but Soane did not know that, nor, had he known it, would it have availed him. He was ntterly dazzled, conquered, subjugated by her beauty. " Willingly," he said. *' But for what ? " " Oil, for — everything ! " she answered with supreme assunmcc. "1 ask your divinity's pardon for everything," he said obediently. '* It is granted," she answered. " And — I shall see you to-morrow, Sir George ? " " To-morrow ? " he said. " Alas, no ; I shall be away to-morrow." He had eyes ; and the startling fashion in which the light died out of her face, and left it groy and colourless, was not lost on him. But her voice remained steady, almost indifferent. " Oh ! " she said, *' you are r'oing ? " And she raised her eyebrows. " Yes," he answered ; " I have to go to Estcombe." She tried to force a laugh, but failed. " And you do not return ? We shall not see you again ? " she said. " It lies with you," he answered slowly. " I am returning to-morrow evening by the Bath road. Will you come and meet me, Julia — say, as far as the Manton turning ? It's on your favourite road. I know yon •troll there every evening. I shall be there a little after live. If you come to-morrow, I shall know that, notwithstanding your hard f. hm H I li% THE CASTLE INN 111 iA i ! i'Stt^ k t*;;. PI words, yon will take m hand the reforming of a rako — and a ruined rake, Julia. If you do nof come -" lie hesitated. She had to turn away her head that he mij^'ht not see fhe light that had rttiirned to her eyes. ,* Well, what then ? " she said softly. '* I do not know.'' " But Lady Carlisle was his wife," she whispered, with a swift sidclonnr shot from eyes instantly a rted. " And— you remember what you said to me— at Oxford ? That if I were a lady, you would make me your wife. I am not a ladv ^:rr!~„. ft/' '■ 1 did not say that," Sir George answered quickly. "No^ What then?" " You know very well," he retorted with malice. All of her cheek and neck that he could see turned scarlet. " Well, at any rate," she said, " let us be sure now that you are talking not to Clarissa but to Pamela." "I am talking to neither," he answered manfully. And he stood erect, his hat in his hand ; they were almf st of a height. " I am talking to the most beautiful woman in the world," he said, " whom I ilso believe to be the most virtuous— and whom I hojit^ to make my wife. Shall it be so, Julia ? " She was trembling excessively ; she sed her fan f^at he might not see how lier hand shook. " 1— I will tel' , ou to- morrow," she muriii Tod breathlessly. " At Mant( !orner "Now ! Now!" he siid. But he cried " No, to-morrow, and fled from him into the Ik ^e, deaf, ns she passeii through the hall, to th( clatter of dishes and the cries of the waiters u al the ratiie of ordera ; for she had the singing of larks in her cars, and her heart rose on the throb oi' the song, rose nntil she felt that she must either cr> or die — of very happiness. CHAPTER XVI. THE BLACK FAN. I BELIEVE that Sir George, riding snbcrly to Estcombe in the morning, was not guiltless of looking back in spirit. I'lobably there arc few men who, when the binding word haa been said and the final step taken, do not feel a revulsion of mind, and for a moment question the wisdom of their choice. A more beautiful wife he could not wish ; shf^ was fair of face and lultless in shape, as beautiful as a Churchill or a Gunning. And in all honesty, and in spite of the undoubted advances she had made to him, he believed her to be [_- xl nnd vir- tuous. But her birth, her quality, or rather her lack of quality, her connections, these were things to cry him pause, to bid him reflect ; until the thought— mean and unworthy, but not unnatural— that he was ruined, and what did it matter whom he wedded ? came to him, and he touched his horse with the spur and cantered on by upland, down and clump, by Avebury, and Yatcsbury, and Compton Bassetfc, until he came to Iha home. Returning in the afternoon, sad at starting, but less sad with every added mile that separated him from the house to which he had bidden farewell in lis heart— and which, much as he prized it now, he had not \ isited twice a year while it was his— it was anoth. atter. He thought little of the future ; of the past not all, le present was sufficient for --im. In an honr, in half nn hour, in ten nr-UiLes, he wouid see her, would hold her hands in his, would hear her say !-■ ]54 THE CASTLE INN. 4' ! J" - i that slie loved him, would look unreproved into the depths of her proud eyes, would see them sink before his. Not a regret now f. r White's ! Or the gaming table I Or Mrs. Cornclys' and Betty's I Gone the h.ase insouciance of St.' James's. The whole man wjis set on his mistress. Ruined, he had naugjit but her to look forward to, and he hungered • for her. Ua cantered through Avebury, ix miles short of Marlborough, and saw not one house. Through West Kennet, where his shadow went long and thin before him ; through Fyficld, where ho well-nigh ran into a post-chaise! which seemed to be in as grout a hurry to go west as he was to go east ; under the Devil's Den, and by Clatford (toss- lanes, nor drew rein until— as the sun sank finally behind him, leaving the downs cold and grey— he came in sight of Man ton Corner. Then, that no look of shy happin- ., no downward quiver of the maiden eyelids might be lost-for the morsel, now it was within his grasp, was one to linger over and dwell on— Sir George, his own eyes shining with eagerness, walked his hoi-se forward, his gaze greedily Peeking the flutter of her kerchief or the welcome of her hand. Would she be at the meeting of the roads— shrinking aside behind the bend, her cycH laughing to greet him ? No, he saw as ho drew nearer that she was not there. Then he knew where she would be ; she would be waiting for him on the footbridge la the lane! fifty yards from the high-road, yet within sight of it. She would have her lover come so far— to win hn: The subtlety was like her, and pleased him. But she was not there, nor was she to be seen elsewhere in the lane ; for this descended a gentle slope until it plunged, still under his eyes, among the ^hatched roofs and quaint cottages of the village, whence t>e smoke of the evening meal rose blue among the trees. Soane's eves roiiirned to the main road ; he expected to hear her laugh. THE BLACK FAN. 155 le depths . Not a Or Mrs. ice of St. Ruined, hungered short of gh West ore him ; st -chaise, iH he was rd eross- y behind sight of d quiver 1, now it r^cll on — liked his r of her )e at the end, her IV nearer )uld be ; 'he lane, b. She subtlety scwhero until it ofs and of the s's eyes ■ laugh. and SCO her emerge at liis elbow. But the length of Qio highway lay empty before, and empty behind ; and ;'i. ,vas silent. lie began to look Wank. A Holitary houKo, which had been an inn, but was now unoccupied, stood in the angle formed by Manton Lane and the road ; he scrutinised it. The big doors leading to the stable-yard were ajar ; but ho looked in and she was not there, though he noted that horses had stood there lately. For the rest, the house was closed and shuttered, as he had seen it that morning, and every day for days past. Was it possible that she had changed her mind ? That she had played or was playing him false ? His heart said no. Nevertheless he felt a chill and a degree of disillusion as he rode down the lane to the footbridge, and over it, and on as far as the first house of the village. Still he saw nothing of her ; and he turned. Riding back his search was rewarded with a discovery. Beside the ditch, at the corner where the road and lane met, and lying in such a position that it was not visible from the highway, but only from the lower ground of the lane, lay a plain black fan. Sir George sprang down, picked it up, and saw that it was Julia's ; and still possessed by the idea that she was playing him a trick he kissed it, and looked sharply round, hoping to detect her laughing face. Without result ; then at last he began to feel misgiving. The road under the downs was growing dim and shadowy ; the ten minutes he had lingered had stolen away the warmth and colour of t le day. The camps and tree-clumps stood black on the hilli-, the blacker for the creeping mist that stole beside the river where ho stood. In another ten minutes night would fall in the valley. Sir George, his heart sinking under those xagae and apparently foolish alarms which are among the penal- tics of affection, mounted his hurse, stood in his siirrnps, and called her name—" Julia ! Julia I "—not loudlv, but v.\.l 156 THE CASTLE INN. li sojhat if she were within fifty yards of ln,n she must He listened. His car eaught a confused babel of Toices m the direction of Marlborough ; but only the empty house echoing " Julia I " answered him. Not that he w'aifed long for an answer ; something in the dreary asix-ct of the even,ng struck cold to his bo„rt, „nd touching his horse with the spur, be dashed olf at a ,d-gallop. Meeting the Bristol night-wagon beyond the tend of the road he was by tll^ T ,'^''-™'-""=''»«- "'<= boils ringing at the horses' necks, the crackmg whips, the tilt lurching white through th dnsk somewhat reassured liini. Keducing his pace, and a little ashamed of his fears, he entered the inn grounds by he stable entrance, threw liis reins to a man-who seemed to have s<,raeth,ng to say, but did not say it-and walked off to he porch He bad been a fooi to entertain such tears ; in a minute he would see Julia Even a, he tbouglit these tboiigbts, he might have seen- ■ad he ooked that way-half a ,I,...„ „e„ on foot and Horseback biisthug out with lanterns through the great ga es. Their voices readied him mellowed by distant hut immersed ,n thinking where bo should find Julia a^d what be should say to her, he crosse.1 the roadway rthout heding a commotion which in such a place was not unusual On the contrary, the long lighted front of the house the hum life that rose from it, the sharp voices of T k, 'ot Tf men who stood a little on one side, arguing eagerly a d al a once, wen fi,r to dissipate such of hi, Lr, a, Uie pace of b,s horse had left. li.yond ,loul,t Julia, fiiidin. Lf,d m aoitude, lu.d g|.„.„ „,a™,„a „„,, ,,„,, ,.,; ^^^ Inm late ; perhaps pouting bex-ause he had not forestalled th! But the moment he passed through the doorway his ear cauffbt that hu»» nf ovi-itml V-,-- - ■ -■ ""'"''J'""'™' ,, j_.. or excited Voices, rniiiea lu all parte and in THE BLACK FAN. 157 every key, that betokens disaster. And with a sudden chill at his heart, as of a cold hand gripping it, he stood, and looked down the haU. It was well perhaps that he had that moment of preparation, those few seconds in which to steady himself, before the full sense of what had happened struck him. "^ The lighted hall was thronged and in an uproar. A busy place, of much coming and going it ever was. Now the floor was crowded in every part with two or three score persons, all speaking, gesticulating, advising at once. Here a dozen men were proving soniothing ; there another group were controverting it ; while twice as many listened, wide- eyed and open-mouthed, or in their turn dashed into the babel. That something very serious had happened Sir George could not doubt. Once he caught the name of Lord Chatham, and the statement that he was worse, and he fancied that that was it. But the next moment the speaker added loudly, " Oh, he cannot be told I He is not to be told ! The doctor has gone to him ! I tell you, he 18 woi^e to-day !" And this, giving the lie to that idea, revived his fears. His eyes passing quickly over the crowd, looked everywhere for Julia ; he found her nowhere. He touched the nearest man on the arm, and asked him what had happened. The person he addressed was about to reply when an agitated figure, wig awry, cravat loosened, eyes sta.-ino- force^d itself through the crowd, and, flinging itsdf on Kiir ueorge, clutched him by the open l)rea8t of his grctu ndmg-coat. It was Mr. Fishwick, but Mr. I'^isluvick trans- hgured by a great fright, his face grey, his cheeks trembling. *or a moment such was his excitement he could not speak. Ihen "Where is she?" he stuttered, almost shaking Sir George on his feet. " What have you done with her, you- Jt\n Trill...'.. ?m * } J -"^ fn I i 158 THE CASTLE INN. Soanc, with misgivings gnawing ut his heart, was in no patient mood. In a blaze of passion he flung the attorney from him. "You madman 1" he said; "what idiocy is this?" Mr. Fish wick fell heavily against a stout gentleman in splashed boots and un old-fashioned Ramillies, who for- tunately for the attorney, blocked the way to the wall. Even so the shock was no light one. But, breathless and giddy as he was the lawyer returned instantly to the charge. " I denounce you ! " he cried furiously. " I denounce this man ! You, and you," he continued, appealing with frantic gestures to those next him, '* mark what I say ! She is the claimant to his estiitos— estates he holds on sulFerance I To-morrow justice would have been done, and to-night he has kid- napped her. All he has is hers, I tell you, and he has kidnapped her. I denounce him ! I " " What Bedlam stall' is this ? " Sir George cried hoarsely ; and he looked round the ring of curious starers, the sweat standing on his brow. Every eye in the hall was upon him, and there was a great silence ; for the accusation to which the lawyer gave ton^i^nic had been buzzed and bruited since the first cry of alarm roused the house. "What stuff is this ?" he repeated, his head giddy with the sense of that which Mr. Fishwick had said. " AVho— who is it has been kidnapped ? Speak I I) n you 1 Will no one speak ?" " Your cousin," the lawyer answered. " Your cousin, wlio claims " " Softly, man— softly," said the landlord, coming forward and laying his hand on the lawyer's shoulder. **And we shall the sooner know what to do. Briefly, Sir George," he continued, " the young lady who has been in your company the last day or two was seized and carried off in a post-chaise lialf an hour ago, as I am told— maybe a little more— from Manton Corner. For the rest, which this gentleman savs. i V in THE BLACK FAN. 159 about who she is and her claim— which it does not seem to me can be true and your honour not know it— it is news to me. But, as I understand it, Sir George, he alleges that the young lady who has disappeared lays claim to your honour's estates at Estcombe." "AtEstcombe?" " Yes, sir." Sir George did not reply, but stood staring at the man, his mind divided between two thoughts. The first that this was the solution of the many things that had puzzled him in Julia ; at once the explanation of her sudden amiability, her newborn forwardness, the mysterious fortune into which she had come, and of her education and her strange past. She was his cousin, the unknown claimant ! She was his cousin, and He awoke with a start, dragged away by the second thuught— hard following on the first. "From Mantou Corner .?" he cried, his voice keen, his eye terrible. " Who saw it ? " " One of the servants," the landlord answered, " who had gone to the top of the Mound to clean the mirrors in the Bummerhousc. Iler , you," he continued, beckoning to a man who limped forward reluctantly from one of the side passages in which he had been standing, " show yourself, anil tell this gentleman tlie story you told me." " If it i)lease your honour," the fellow whimpered, " it was no fault of mine. I ran down to give the alarm as soon as I saw what was doing— they were forcing her into the carriage then— but I was in such a hurry I fell and rolled to the bottom of the Mouud, and was that dazed and shaken it was five minutes before I could find any one." " How many were there ? " Sir George asked. There was an ugly light in his eyes and his cheeks burned. But he Bpoke with calmness. 160 THE CASTLE INN. ! : •Two I saw, and there may have been more. The chaise had been waiting in the yard of the empty house at the comer, the old Nag's Head. I saw it com*e out. That was the first thing I did see. And then the lady." "Did she seem to be unwilling.?" the man in the Ramillies asked. " Did she scream ? " "Ay, she screamed right enough," the fellow answered lumpishly. « I heard her, though the noise came faiut-Iike. It is a good distance, your honour'll mind, and some would not have seen what I saw." "And she struggled .?" "Ay, sir, she did. They were having a business with her when I left, I can tell you." The picture was too much for Sir George. Gripping the landlord's shoulder so fiercely that Smith winced and cried out, "And you have heard this man," he said, "and you chatter here ? Fools ! Thiti is no matter for words, but for horses and pistols ! Get me a horse and pistols— and tell my servanf,. Are you so many dolls ? 1) n you, sir " —this to Mr. Fishwiok— " stand out of my way ! " CHAPTER XVII. MR. FISHWICK, THE ARBITER. ToMj'Ti? • "''° '""' "^PI*'^ '°™"'d wi'h " vague notion of detammg hira, fell back. Sir George's stem a,peetwh,oh bor. witness to the passions tharil^ed L" heart at that moment cruelly divided, did not eneonrage interference , and though one or two muttered, no one ourwi'thl 'd ," '"* '"*' """ "" "»"W ha; paZ out without delay, mounted, and gone in pursuit-wi*h what result in the direction of allering the issue ft t unt^ssiWe to state-it „„ obstacle had'not been c'a in his way by an unexpected hand. In every crowd, the old proverb haa it, ther« arc a knave and a f„oI. Between Sir George bursting with passion, and Sr,wA "t"™^''- ^'' '-^^^'P ^'^ been one o lawvef »:]« n "^"""f ■■««™»-'">'3 ««'"«g aside the lawyer a„d Sir George-she was of all present the person most powerfully aifeeted by the news of the ontrage.'^rt he had succeeded in concealing alike her fears and her it audhaVr'r;'"™'"'* ««'— -«.er more no" ess , and had hinted, in common with three-fourths of the Mies present, that the minx's cries were forced, and her ionm fortune sufficiently to her mind. In a „„M Z M^ comported herself so fitly that if there was onepei«m"in M 162 THE CASTLE INN. the hall whose opinion was likely to cany weight, as being coolly and impartially formed, it was her ladyship. When she stepped forward therefore, and threw herself between Sir George and the door— still more when, with an intrepid gesture, she cried " Stay, sir ; we have not done with you yet," there was a sensation. As the crowd pressed up to see and hear what passed, her accusing finger pointed steadily to Sir George's breast. " What is that you have there ? " she continued. " That which peeps from your breast pocket, sir ? " Sir George, who, furious as he was, could go no farther without coming in contact with her ladyship, smothered an oath. " Madam," he said, *' let mc pass." " Not until you explain how you came by that fan," she answered sturdily ; ard held her ground. " Fan ? " he ciicd savagely. " What fan ? " Unfortunately the passions that had swept through his mind during the last few minutes, the discovery he had made, and the flood of pity that would let him think of nothing but the girl— the girl carried away screaming and helpless, a prey to he knew not whom— left in his mind scant room fur trifles. He had clean forgotten the fan. But the crowd ga^e him no credit for this; and some murmured, and some exchanged glances, when he asked "What fan?" Still more when my lady rejoined, "The fan in your breast," and drew it out and all saw it, was there a plain and general feeling against him. Unheeding, he stared at the fan with grief-stricken eyes. " I picked it up in the road," he muttered, as much to him- self as to them. "It is hers.?" "Yes," he said, holding it reverently. " She must have dropped it— in the struggle !" And then '* My God !" he continued fiercely, the sight of the fan brinuing fclie truth MR. FISmvICK, THE ARBITER. 1(J3 more vividly before him, " Let me pass ! Or I shall be doin- some one a mischief ! Madam, let me pass, I say » " His tone was such that an ordinary woman must have given way to him ; but the viscountess had her reasons for being staunch. "No," she said stoutly, "not until these gentlemen have heard more. You have her fan, which she took out an hour ago. She went to meet you-that we know from this jxirson "-she indicated Mr. Fishwick • "and to meet you at your request. The time, at sunset, the* place, tne corner of Manton Lane. And what is the upshot i At that corner, at sunset, persons and a carriage were waitin- to carry her off. Who besides you knew that she would be there?' Lady Dunborough continued, driving home tho point with h,er finger. " Who besides you knew the time ? And that being so, as soon as they arc safely away with her, you walk in here with an innocent face and her fan in your pocket, and know naught about it I For sbanie ' fcr shame ! Sir George ! You will have us think we sec I he Cock Lane Ghost next. For my part," her ladyship continued ironically, "I would as soon believe in the rabbit-woman." "Let me jvisa, madam," 8ir George cried between his teeth. "If you were no, a woman " "You would do something dreadful," Lady Dunborough answered mockingly. «' Nevertheless, I shall be much mis- taken, sir, if some of these gentlemen have not a word to Hay m the matter." Hor ladyshii.'s glance fell, as she spoke, on the stout red- Jaccd gentleman in the splashed boots and Ramillies, who had asked two qu. stions of the servant ; and who, to jud^'c by the attention wirli which he followed my lady's word's, was not proof agiiinst the charm which invests a viscountess! if she looked at iiim with intention, she reckoned well ; for,' as neatly as if the matter had been concerted between '^-- •pped A.rward and took up the ball. M 2 If, I .; M . Ml ■ ii .11 164 The castle inn* i "Sir George," he said, puffing out his checks, "hef ladyship is quite riglit. I— I am sorry to interfere, but you know me, and what my position is on the Kota. And I do not think I can stand by any longer— which might be adhm-ei-e culpm. This is a serious case, and I doubt I shall not be justified in allowing yon to depart without some more definite explanation. Abduction, you know, is not bailable. You are a Justice yourself. Sir George, and must know that. If this person therefore— who I understand is an attorney— desires to lay a sworn iulbrmation, I must take it." '• In heaven's name, sir," Soane crial desperately, " take it ! Take what you please, but let me take the road." "Ah, but that is what I doubt, sir, I cannot do," the Justice answered. " Mark you, there is motive. Sir George, and prccsentia in loco;' he continued, swelling with his owii learning. ''And you have a parlem ckUcti on you. And, moreover, abduction is a special kind of case, seeing that if the pardrijws criminis are free the femrne sole, some- times called the fcmina cnpta, is in greater danger. In fact, it is a continuing crime. An information being sworn therefore " "It has not been sworn yet !" Sir George retorted fiercely. " Aud I warn you that anyone who lays a hand on me shall rue It. God, man 1 " he continued, horror in his voice, "cannot you understand that while you prate here they are carrying her off, and that time is everything ?" "Some persons have gone in pursuit," the landlord answered with intent to soothe. "Just so; some persons have gone in pursuit," the Justice echoed with dull satisfaction. "And you, if you went, could do no more than they can do. Besides, Sir George, the law must be obeyed. The sole point is"— he turned to Mr. Fiaiiwick, who through all had stood by, his i l| • MR. FISHWICK, THE ARBITER. 165 face distorted by grief and perplexity-" do you wish, sir, to swear the information?" Mrs. Mastcrson had fainted at the first alarm and been carried to her room. Apart from her, it is probable hat only Sir George and Mr. Fishwick really entered into the horror of tl-.e girl's position, realised the possible value ot minutes or felt genuine and poignant grief at what had occiiiTod. On the decision of one of these two the freedom of the other now depended, and the conclusion seemed foregone. J en minutes earlier, Mr. Fishwick, carried away l.y the first s.giit of Sir George, and by the rage of an honest man who saw a helpless woman ruined, had been violent enough ; Soane's possession of the fan-not then known to hmi-was calculated to corroborate his suspicions. The Justice in appealing to him felt sure of support ; and was much astonished when Mr. Fishwick, in place of assenting, passed iHS han.l across his brow, and stared at the speaker as If he had suddenly lost the power of speech. Ill truth, the hnvyer, harried by the expectant gnze of the room and the .Tustice's in)patiouce, was divided between a natural genorosify, which was one of his oddities, and a suspicion born of his profession. He liked Sir Georo-c • his snmller manhood went out in adminUion to the other's splend.d personality. On tlio oth .• hand, he had viewed Soane s approaches to his client with misgiving. He had scouted a trap here and a bait there, and a dozen times, delt T 'T °" ^;'' ,^^^^'"«^ton's postponements and delajs, I had accused the two of collusion and of some deep-laul chicanery. Between these feelings he had now to decide, and to decide i.i such a tumult of anxiety and dismay ns almost deprived him of the power to think. ^_ Un the one hand, the evidence and inferences against "■" -^'^-^'S^ pressed him strongly. On the other, he had seen enough of the futile haste of the ostlers and stable- 160 THE CASTLE INN. helps, wlio had gouo in purauifc, to hope lii ic from them ; whilo from Sir Geor^'e, were he honest, everything wa8 to be expected. In his final decision we may believe what he said aftemurds, that h- wm dctorniinod by neither of these considerations, hut by ),is (u se as they I other five d hanging 'istol — was the lamps ' had just 'ay. Sir md hailed 3-and-foui' d, looking reorge, "I beg your honour's pardon," he said. « Here, Jeremy," to the guard— while the stable-man and helpers paused to listen or stared at the heaving flanks of the riders' horses - " did we meet a closed chaise-and-four to-night ? " "We met a chaise-and-four at Cold Aston," the guard answered, ruminating. "But 'twas Squire Norris's of Sheldon, and there was no one but the Squire in it. And a chaise-and-four at Maishfield, but that was a burying party from Bathcaston, going liome very m.. . No other', closed or open, that I can mind, sir, this side of Dungeon Cross, and that is but two miles out of Bristol." "They arc an hour and a half in front of us !" Sir George cried eagerly. «' Will a guinea improve your memory ? " "Ay, sir, but'twon't make it," the coachman answered, gnnning. "Jeremy is right. T mind no others. What will your honour want with them ? " "They have carried off a young lady!" Mr. Fishwick cried shrilly. " Sir George's kinswoman ! " "To be sure ? " ejaculated the driver, amid a murmur of astonishment ; and the crowd which had grown since their arrival pressed nearer to listen. " Where from, sir, if I may make so bold ? " "^ " From the Castle at Marlborough." " Dear me, dear me, there is audaciousness, if you like 1 And you ha' followed them so far, sir ? " Sir George nodded and turned to the crowd. « A guinea for news ! " he cried. « Who saw them go through Chip- penham ! " ^ f He had not long to wait for the answer. " They never went through Chipnam I " a thick voice hiccoughed from the rear of the press. _ "They came this way out of Calne," Sir George retorted, Binjrhncr the srRRter ont R^ri "'"■■•n'-irr x- j-i i . , ' -r — ^'^ ^"^* ^^^'^ o^o^ing Lu Liic people do make Way that he might get at him. 174 THE CASTLE INN. "Ay, but they never— cairc to Chipnara," the fellow answered, leering at hiai with drunken wisdom. " D'you Bee that, master ? " " Which way, then ? " Soane cried impatiently. " Which way did they go ? " But the man only lurched a step nearer. "That's telling ! " he said with a beery rtmilc. " You want to be — as wise as I be ! " Jeremy, the guard, seized him by the collar and shook him. " You drunken fool ! " he said. " D'ye know that this is Sir George Soane of Estcombe ? Answer him, you swine, or you'll be in the cage in a one, two ! " "You let me be," the man whined, struggling to release himself. " It's no business of yours. Let me be, master!" Sir George raised his whip in his wrath, but lowered it again with a groan. "Can no one make him speak ? " he said, looking round. The man was staggering and lurching in the guard's giaso. " llis wife, but she is to Marshfield, nursing her sister," answered one. "But give him his guinea, Sir George. 'Twill save time maybe." Soane flung it to him. "There!" he said. "Now speak ! " " That'sh better," the man muttered. " That's talking ! Now I'll tell you. You go back to Devizes Corner — corner of the road to De-vizes — you understand ? There was a car— car — carriage there without lights an hour back. It was waiting under the hedge. I saw it, and I— I know what's what ! " Sir George flimg a guinea to the guard, and wheeled his horse about. In the act of turning his eye fell on the lawyer's steed, which, chosen for sobriety rather than staying powers, was on the point of foundering. "Get another," he cried, " and follow I " ml THE PURSUIT. 176 he fellovr " D'you "Which "That's ant to be ind shook enow that him, you to release master ! " lowered it 3ak?" he I hu'ching iv sister," ' George. . "Now talking ! r — corner }re was a back. It —I know leeled his II on the tier than :. " Get Mr. Fishwick uttered a wail of despair. To be left to follow— to follow alone, in the dark, through unknown roads, with scarce a clue and on a strange horse— the prospect migh'j have appalled a hardier soul. lie was saved from it by Sir George's servant, a stolid silent man, who might be warranted to ride twenty miles without speaking. "Here, take mine, sir," he said. "I must stop to get a lanthorn ; we shall need one now. Do you go with his honour." Mr. Fishwick slid down and was hoisted into the other's saddle. By the time this was done Sir George was almost lost in the gloom at the farther end of the street. But any- thing rather than be left behind. The lawyer laid on his whip in a way that would have astonished him a few hours before, and overtook his leader as he emerged from the town. They rode without speaking until they had retraced their steps to the foot of the hill, and could discern a little higher on the ascent the turn for Devices. It is possible that Sir George hoped to find the chaise still lurking in the shelter of the hedge ; for as he rode up to the corner he drew a pistol from his holster, and took his horse by the head. If so, he was disappointed. The moon had risen high and its cold light disclosed the whole width of the roadway, leaving no place in which even a dog could lie hidden. Nor as far as the eye could travel along the pale strip of road that ran southward was any movement or sign of life. Sir George dropped from his saddle, and stooping, sought for proof of the toper's story. He had n difficulty in finding it. There were the deep narrow ruL;- which tie wheels of a chaise, long stationary, had made in the turf at the side of the road ; and south of them was a plat of poached ground where the hoi-ses had stood and s^liifted their feet uneasily. He walked forward, and by the moDu- > V t. .{ ;- 176 THE CASTLE INN. I !: i ! ^1 light traced the dusty indents of the wheels until they exchanged the sward for the hard road. There they were lost in other tracks, but the inference was plain. The chaise had gone south to Devizes. For the first time "iir George folt the full horror of uncer- tainty. He climbed into his saddle and sat looking across the waste with eyes of misery, asking himself whither and for what ? Whither had they taken her, and why ? The Bristol road once lefl, his theory was at fault ; he had no clue, and felt, where time was life and more than life, the slough of horrible conjecture rise to his very lips. Only one thing, one certain thing remained— the road ; the pale ribbon running southward under the stars. He must cling to that. The chaise had gone that way, and though the double might be no more than a trick to throw pursuers oflF the trail, though the first dark lane, the first roadside tavern, the first farmhouse among the woods might have swallowed the unhappy girl and the wretches who held her in their power, what other clue had he ? What other chance but to track the chaise that way, though every check, every minute of uncertainty, of thought, of hesitation— and a hundred such there must be in a tithe of the miles— racked him with fears and dreadful surmises ? There was no other. The wind sweeping across the hill on the western extremity of which he stood, looking over the lower ground about the Avon, brought the distant howl of a dog to his ears, and chilled his blood heated with riding. An owl beating the coverts for mice sailed overhead ; a hare rustled through the fence. The stars above were awake ; in the intense silence of tho upland he could almost hear the great spheres throb as they swept through space I But the human world slept, and while it slept what work of darkness might not be doing? That scream, shrill and ear-piercing, that suddenly rent the night— thank God, it THE PURSUIT. 177 wns only a rabbit's death-cry, but it left the sweat on his brow ! After that he could, he would, wait for nothing and no niun. Lanthorn or no lanthorn, ho must be moving He raised bis whip, then let it full a-ain as his car caught far away the first faint hoof-bcais of a horse travellin^r the road at headlong speed. ^ Tiic sound was very distant at first, but it grew rapidly and presently filled the night. It came from the direction of CiMppcaham. Mr. Fishwick, who had not dared to inLerrnpt his compan'on's calculations, licird the sound with relief ; and looking for the first gleam of the lanthcrn uonderen'^p to n°o *^"m i-o - — nu ' i i — — 1. !„!, (,v ui^L tutZii, u.e wuUiu nave leu the forlornest of hopes, charged a battery, or fired a 1 hi 182 THE CASTLE INN. magazine. But the species of danger in which he now found himself— with a gallows and a silk rope in prospect, his fate to be determined by the very scoundrels he had hh-ed— shook even his obstinacy. He looked about him ; Sir George's servant had come up and was waiting a little apart. Mr. Dunborough found his lips dry, his throat husky. •'What do you want?" he muttered, his voice changed. "I have told you all I know. Likely enough they have taken her back to get themselves out of the scrape." " They have not," said the lawyer. " We have come that way, and must have met them." " They may be in Chippenham ? " " They are not. We have inquired." "Then they must have taken this road. Curse you, don't you see that I cannot get out of my saddle to look ? " ho continued ferociously. "They have gone this way. Have you any devil's shop —any house of call down the road ? " Sir George asked, signing to the servant to draw nearer. "Not I." *' Then we must track them. If they dared not face Chippenham, they will not venture through Devizes. It is possible that they are making for Bristol by cross-roadn. There is a bridge over the Avon near Laycock Abbey somewhere on our right, and a road that way throu-h Pewsey Forest. " _" That will be it," cried Mr. Dunborough, slapping his thigh. « That is their game, depend upon it." Sir George did not answer him, but nodded to the servant. "Go on with the light," he said. "Try every turning fur wheels, but lose no time. This gentleman will accompany us, but I will wait on him." The man obeyed quickly, the lawyer going with him. AN UNWILLING ALLY. 183 The other two brought up the rear, and in that order they started, riding in silence. For a mile or more the servant held i) -^ road at a steady trot ; then signing to those behind hiiii lalt, he pulled up at the mouth of a by-road leading west v\ tii'ds from the highway. He moved the light once cr twice across the ground, and cried that the wheels had gone that way ; then got briskly to his saddle and swung along the lane at a trot, the others following in single file, Sir George last. So far they had maintained a fair pace. But the party had not proceeded a quarter of a mile along the lane before the trot became a walk. Clouds had come over the face of the moon ; the night had gi'own dark. The riders were no longer on the open downs, but in a narrow by-road, rimniiig across wastes and through thick coppices, the ground slopit;g sharply to the Avon. In one place the track w'as so closely shadowed by trees as to be as dark as a pit. In anotlier it ran, unfenced, across a heath studded wiLh water-pools, whence the startled moor-fowl squattcred up unseen. Everywhere they stumbled : once a horse fell. Over such ground, founderous and scored knee-deep with ruts, it was plain that no wheeled carriage could move at speed ; and the pursuers had this to cheer them. But the darkness of the night, the dreary glimpses of wood and v.ater, which met the eye when the moon for a moment emerged, the solitude of this forest tract, the muffled tread of the honses' feet, the very moaning of the wind among the trees, suggested ideas and misgivings which Sir George strove in vain to suppress. Why had the scoundrels gone this way ? Were they really bound for Bristol ? Or for some den of villainy, some thieves' house in the old forest ? At times these fears stung him out of all patience, and he cried to the man with the light to go faster, faster ! -^gam, the whole seemed unreal, and the Baauowy Vvoods ' i '■^M ^m M ^m f,. ? 184 THE CASTLE INN. and gleaming water-pools, the stumbling horses, the fear the danger, gvm to be the creatures of a disordered fancy' It was an immense joy to him when, at the end of an hour the lawyer cried, " The road ! the road ! " and one by one the nders emerged with grunts of relief on a sound causeway.' To make sure that the pursued had nou-here evaded them, the tracks of the chaise-wheels were sought and found, and forward the four went again. Presently they plunged hrough a brook, and this passed, were on Laycock hrld^e before they knew it, and across the Avon, and mounting, the slope on the other side by Laycock Abl)ey. There were houses abutting on the road here, black over- hanging masses against a grey sky, and the riders looked wavered and drew rein. Before any spoke, however, an cTd" Hallo !''"'"' ''"' ""' ' ''''' '''"^ ^^^ ^^^^^•^-- Sir George found speech to answer. *' Yes " ho siid ;' what is it ?; The lawyer was out of breath, aid clingin!: to the mane in sheer weariness. "Be you after a chaise driving to the devil ? " "Yes, yes," Sir George answered eagerly. "Has it passed, my man ? " "Ay, sure, Corsham way, for Bath most like. I knew twould be followed. Is't a murder, gentlemen ? " "Yes,'' Sir George cried hurriedly, "and worse! How far ahead are they ? " "About half an hour, no more, and whipping and spurring as if the old one was after them. My old woman's Bick, and the apothecary from " " Is it straight on ? " "Ay, to be sure, straight on-and the apothecary from Corsham, as I was saying, he said, said he, as soon as he saw her " But his listeners were away again ; the old man's words I I AN UNWILLING ALLY. 185 I \n were lost in tlio scramble and olattcr of the liorses' shoes as they sprang forward. In a moment the stiUness and the dark shapes of the houses were exchanged for the open country, the rudi of wind ,n the riders' faces, and tiie pounding of hoofs on tlic hard road. For a brief Avhile the sky cleared and the moon shone out, and thcv rode as easily as m the day. At the pace at which they were moving Sir George calculated that they must come up with the fugitives in an hour or less ; but the reckoning was no sooner made than the horses, jaded by the heavy ground through which they had struggled, began to flag and droop their heads ; the pace grew less and less ; and thouo-h Sir George whipped and spurred, Corsham Corner was reached and Pickwick Village on the Bath road, and still they saw no chaise ahead. It was past midnight, and it seemed to some that they had been riding an eternity ; yet even these roused at sight of the great western highway. The night coaches had long gone eastwards, and the road, so busy by day, stretched before them dim, shadowy, and empty, as solitary in the darkness as the remotest lane. But the knowledge that Bath lay at the end of it— and no more than nine miles away— and that there they could procure aid, fresh horses, and willing helpers, put new life even into the most weary! Even Mr. Fishwick, now g voaning ,vith fatigue and now crying ''Oh dear ! oh dear ! " as he bumped, in a way that at another time must have drawn laughter from a stone took heart of grace ; ^rhile Sir George eettled down to a dogged jog that had something ferocious in its determina- tion. If lie could not trot, he would amble ; if he could not amble, he would walk ; if his horse could not walk he f™r/? ''''• ^'' ^''^' ^"^ "''" ^^^^ ^^^ ^""^ ^^^' ^^""^ orward, but m effect he had given up hope of overtaking the quarry before it reached Bath ; and he was taken by rfiiii ■ ! l,.i i I fill it' 186 THE CASTLE INN. surprise when the servant, who rode first and had eased his horse to a wallc at the foot of Haslebury Hill, drew rein and cried to the others to Hsten. For a moment the heavy breathing of the four horses covered all other sounds. Then in the darkness and the distance, on the summit of the rise before them, a wheel creaked as it grated over a stone. A few seconds and the sound was repeated ; then all was silent. The chaise ha.l passed over the crest and was descending the other side. Oblivious of everything except that Julia was within his reach, forgetful even of Dunborough by whose side he had ridden all night— in silence but with many a look askance —Sir George drove his horse forward, scrambled and trotted desperately up the hill, and, gaining the summit a score of yards in front of his companions, crossed the brow aiul drew rein to listen. He had not been mistaken. He could hear the wheels creaking, and the wheelers stumbling and slipping in the darkness below him ; and with a cry he launched his horse down the descent. AVhether the people with the chaise heard the cry or not, they appeared to take the alarm at that moment. He heard a whip crack, the carriage bound forward, the horses break into a reckless canter. But if they recked little he recked less ; already he was plunging down the hill after them, his bea.^t almost pitching on its head with every stride. The huntsman knows, however, that many stumbles go to a fall. The bottom was gained in safety by both, and across the flat they went, the chaise bounding and rattling behind the scared l^orses. Now Sir George had a glimpse of the black mass through the gloom, now it seemed to be gaining on him, now it was gone, and now again he drew up to it, and the dim outline bulked bigger and plainer, and bigger and plainer, until he was close upon it, and the cracking whips and the shouts of the postboys rose above the din of hoofs AN UNWILLINO ALLY. ]8'' i eased his drew rein four horses ss and the n, a wheel Js and tho chaise hu.l ir side. witiiiu his ide he had )k askauco md trotted a score of brow and He coukl bliug and a cry he ■ry or not, He heard break into 3ked less ; his beast huntsman fail. The IS the flat jhiud the tlie black ainins: on to it, and igger and ing whips of hoofs and wheels. The carriage was swaying perilously, but Sir George saw that the ground was rising, and that up the hill he must win ; and, taking his horse by the head, he lifted it on by sheer strength until his stirrup was abreast of the hind wheels. A moment, and he made out the bobbing figure of the leading post-boy, and, drawing his pistol, cried" to him (o stop. The answer was a blinding flash of light and a shot. Sir George's horse swerved to the right, and plunging headlong into the ditcli, flung its rider six paces over its head. The servant and Mr. Dunborongh were no more than forty yards behind him when he fell ; in five seconds tho ri.'in had sprung from his saddle, let his horse go, and was at his master's side. There were trees thero, and the darkness in the shadow, where Sir George lay across the roots of one of them, was intense. The man could not see his face, nor how he lay, nor if he was injured ; and calling and getting no answer, he took fright and cried to Uv. Dunborongh to get help. But Mr. Dunborough had ridden -traight on without pausing or drawing rein, and the nuui, finding himself deserted, wrung his hands in terror. He hud only Mr. Fish- wick to look to for help, and he was some way behind. T.'embling, the servant knelt and groped for his master's face ; to his joy, before he had found it. Sir Gcurge gasped, moved, and sat up ; and, muttering an incoherent word or two, in a minute had recovered himself sudicie.itly to rise with help. He had fallen clear of the horse on the edge of the ditch, and the shock had taken his breath ; otherwise he was rather shaken than hurt. As soon as his wits and wind came back to him, "Why- why have you not followed ? " he gasped. " 'Twill be all right, sir. All right, sir," the servant answered, thinking only of him. 188 THE CASTLE INN. " But after the-^, man, after them. Where is Fishwick ? " " Coming, sir, . is coming," the man answered, to soothe him ; and remained where he was. Sir George was so shaken that he could not yet stand alone, and the servant did not know what to think. " Are you sure you are not hurt, sir ? " he continued anxiously. " No, no 1 And Mr. Dunborough ? Is he behind ? " " He rode on after them, sir." " Rode on after them ? " " Yes, sir, he did not stop." ♦' He has gone on— after them ? " Sir George cried. " But " and with that it flashed on him, and on the servant, and on Mr. Fishwick, who had just jogged up and dismounted, what had happened. The carriage and Julia- Julia still in the hands of her captors— were gone. And with them was gone Mr. Dunborough ! Gone far out of hearing ; for as the three strod together in the blackness of the trees, unable to see one another's faces, the night was silent rouud them. The rattle of wheels, the hoof-beats of horses had died away in the distance. |i t CHAPTER XX. THE EMPTY POST-CHAISE. It was one of those positions which try a man to the utter- most ; and it was to Sir George's credit that, duped and defeated, astonisliingly tricked in the moment of success, and physically shaken by his fall, he neither broke into execra- tions nor shed unmanly tears. He groaned, it is true, and his arm pressed more heavily on the servant's shoulder, as he listened and listened in vain for sign or sound of the ninaways. But he still commanded himself, and in face of hoAV great a misfortune ! A more futile, a more wretched end to an expedition it was impossible to conceive. The villains had out-paced, out-fought, and out-manoeuvred him ; and even now were rolling merrily on to Bath, while he, who a few minutes before had held the game in his hands, lay belated here without horses and without hope, in a wretched phght, his every moment embittered by the thought of his mistress's fate. In such crises — to give the devil his due — the lessons of the gaming-table, dearly bought as they are, stand a man in stead. Sir George's fancy pictured Julia a prisoner, trembUng and dishevelled, perhaps gagged and bound by the coarse hands of the brutes who had her in their power ; and the picture was one to drive a helpless man mad. Had he dwelt on it long and done nothing it must have crazed him. But in his life he had lost and won great sums at a coup, and learned to do the one and the other with the same smile — it pw^ t it 190 THE CASTLE INN. !'. waB the point of pride, the form of his time and class. ■\Vhile Mr. Fi.shwick, therefore, wrung his hands and hiincntcd, and the servant swore, Sir Georfifc's heart bled indeed, but it was silently and inwardly ; and meanwhile he thought, calculated the odds, and the distance to Bath and the distance to Bristol, noted the time ; and finally, and with sudden enerc:y, called on the men to be moving. '« We must get to Bath," he said. " We will be upsides with the villains yet. But we must get to Bath. What horses have we ? " Mr. Fishwick, who up to this point had played his part like a man, wailed that his horse was dead lame and could not stir a step. The lawyer was sore, stiff, and beyond belief weary ; and this last mishap, this terrible buffet from the hand of Fortune, left him cowed and spiritless. " Horses or no horses, we must get to Bath," Sir George answered feverishly. On this the servant made an attempt to drag Sir George's mou'it from the ditch, but the poor beast would not budge, and in the darkness it was impossible to discover whether it was wounded or not. Mr. Fish wick's was dead lame ; the man's had wandered away. It proved that there was nothing for it but to walk. Dejectedly, the three took the road and trudged wearily through tlie darkness. They would reach Bathford village, the man believed, in a mile and a half. That settled, not a word was said, for who could give any comfort ? Now and then, as they plodded up the hill beyond Kingsdown, the servant uttered a low curse and Sir George groaned, while Mr. Fishwick sighed in sheer exhaustion. It was a strange and dreary position for men whose -ordinary lives ran through the lighted places of the world. The wind swept sadly over the dark fields. The mud clung to the squelching, dragging boots ; now Mr. Fishwick was within an ace of the ditch on one side, now on the other, and now he brought up heavily against one of his companions. At THE EMPTY POST-CHAISE. J 91 length tiie servant gave him an arm, and thus hnked together they reached the crest of the liill, and after taking a moment to breathe, began the descent. They were within two or three hundred paces of Bathford and the bridge over the Avon when the servant cried out that some one was awake in the village, for he saw a h'ght. A little nearer, and all saw the light, which grew larger as they approached but was sometimes obscured. Finally, when they were within a hundi-ed yards of it, they dis- covered that it proceeded not from a window but from a lanthorn set down in the village street, and sun-ounded by five or six pei-sons whose movements to and fro caused the temporary eclipses they noticed. What the men were doing vras not at once clear ; but in the background rose the dark mass of a post-chaise, and seeing that — and one other thing— Sir George uttered a low exclamation and felt for his hilt. Tlie other thing was Mr. Dtinborough, who, seated at his ease on the step of the post-chaise, appeared to be telling a story, while he nursed his injured arm. His audience, who seemed to have been lately roused from their beds— for they were half-dressed — were so dcei)ly engrossed in what he was narrating that the approach of our party was unnoticed ; and Sir George was in the middle of the circle, his liand on the speaker's shoulder, and his point at his breast, before a man could move in his defence. " You villain ! " Soane cried, all the misery, all the labour, all the fears of the night turning his blood to lire, "you shall pay me now ! Let a man stir, and I will spit you like the dog you are ! Where is she ? Where is she ? For, by Heaven, if you do not give her up, I will kill you with my own hand ! " Mv T^nnKnrniifvVi h'a AVAfi nr\ fhfi nhhpr'fi face, lauffhed. That laugh startled Sir George more than the fiercest 1 1 , 102 THE CASTLE INN. movement, the wildest oath. His point wavered and dropped. "My Godl" he cried, staring at Dunborough. " VVhuh is it ? Wliat do you mean ? " "Tl.?it is better," Mv. Diinl-orough said, nodding compla- cently but not moving a finger. " Keep to that and we shall deal." " What is it, man ? What docs it mean ? ' Sir George repc-atcd. JIc was all of a tremble and could scarcely stand. "Better av^ better," said Mr. Dunborough, nodding his approval. ♦' Keep to that, and your month shut, and you shall know all that I know. It is precious little at best. I spurred and they spurred, I spurred and they spurred— there you have it. AVhen I got up and shouted to them to stop, I suppose they cook mc for you and thought I should stick to them and take them in Bath. So they put on the piife a bit, and drew ahead as they came to the houses here, and then began to pull in, recognising me as I thought. But when I came up, fit and ready to curse their heads off for giving me so much trouble, the fools had cut the leaders' traces and were off with them, and left me the old rattle-trap there." Sir George's face lightened ; he took two steps forward and laid his hand on the chaise door. " Just so," said j\rr. Dunborough, nodding coolly. " That was my idea. I did the same. But, Lord, what their game is I don't know ! It was empty." " Empty ! " Sir George cried. "As empty as it is now," Mr. Dunborough answered, shrugging his shoulders. '« As empty as a bad nut I If you are not satisfied, look for yourself," he continued, rising that Sir George might come at the door. Soane with a sharp movement plucked the door of the chaise open, and called hoarsely for a light. A big dingy man in a wrap rascal coat, whic^i ''eft his brawnj neck m '•Wfi THE EMPTY POST-CHAISE. 193 exposed and betrayed that under the coat he wore only his shirt, held up a huithorn. Its liph^ was scarcely needed. Sir George's hiv 1, not loss than h -t ev , told him that the carriaf^o, a big roomy post-chaise, weli-cushioncd and paddeu, was empty. Aghast and incrednlonH. Soano turned on Mr. Dun! orough. "You know 111 Iter," ho said furiously. "She was hero, and you sent her on with thorn ! " Mr. Dunborough pd iitod to the man in tho wrap-rascal. " That man was up as soon as I was," he said. " A^k him, if you don't believe me. lie opened the chaise door." Sir George turned to the man, who, removing the shining leatlior cap that marked him for a smith, slowly scratched his head. The other men pressed up behind him to hear, the group growing larger every moment as one and another, awakened by the light and hubbub, came out of his house and joined it. Even women wore beginning to appear on the outskirts of the crowd, their heads mutll d in hoods and mobs. " The can-iago Avas empty, sure enough, yoii'- honour," the smith said ; " there is no manner of doubt n out that. I heard the wheels coming, and looked out and s. ^y it stop and the men go oDP. There was no woman with thcrn." " How many were they ? " Soane asked sliarpb . The man seemed honest. " Well, there were two went off with the b n-scs," the smith answered, " and two again slipped off on )ot by the lane 'tween the houses there. I saw no more, yo ir honour, and there were no more." "Are you sure," Sir George asked eagerly, "th. t no one of the four was a woman ? " The smith grinned, " How am I to know ? " he ; nswered with a chuckle. " Tliat's none of my business. A 1 C.I. o n. 'n ^jsJi 194 THE CASTLE INN. say is, they were all dressed man fashion. And they all went willing, for they went one by one, as you may say." " Two on foot ? " " By tlie lane there. I never said no otherwise. Seemingly they were the two on the carriage." " And you saw no lady ? " Sir George persisted, still incredulous. " There was no lady," the man answered simply. " I came out, and the gentleman there was swearing and trying the door. I forced it with my chisel, and you may see the mark on the break of the lock now." "Then we have been tricked," Sir George cried furiously. " "VVe have followed the wrong carriage." *' Xot you, sir," the smith answered. " 'Twas fitted up for the job, or I should not have had to force the door. If 'twere not got ready for a job of this kind, why a half-inch shutter inside the canvas blinds, and the bolt outside, 's well as a lock ? Mark that door ! D'you ever see the like of that on au honest carriage ? Why, 'tis naught but a prison ! " He held up the light inside the carriage, and Sir George, the crowd pressing forward to look over his shoulder, saw that it was as tb^ man said. Sir Geoi-ge saw something more —and pounced on it greedily. At the foot of the doorway, between the floor of the carriage and the straw mat that covered it, the corner of a black silk kerchief showed. How it came to be in that position, whether it had been kicked thither by accident or thrust under the mat on purpose, it was impossible to say. lUit there it was, and as Sir George held it up to the lanthorn — jealously interposing himself between it and the curious eyes of the crowd — he felt some- thing hard inside the folds and saw that the coi-ners were knotted. He uttered an exclamation. *' More room, good people, more room I " he cried. THE EMPTY POST-CHAISE. 195 n " Your honour ha' got something ? " said the smith ; and then to the crowd, " Here, you — keep back, will you ? " he continued, " and give the gentleman room to breathe. Or will you ha' the constable fetched ? " *' I be here ! " cried a weakly voice from the skirts of the crowd. " Ay, so be Easter," the smith retorted gruffly, as a puny atomy of a man with a stick and lauthorn was pushed with difficulty to the front. " But so being you are here, sup- posing you put Joe Hincks a foot or two back, and let the gentleman have elbow-room." There was a laugh at this, for Joe Hincks was a giant a little taller than the smith. None the less, the hint had the desired ellect. The crowd fell back a little. Meanwhile, Sir George, the general attention diverted from him, had untied the knot. When the smith turned to him again, it was to find him staring with a blank face at a plain black snuff-box, which was all he had found in the kerchief. *' Sakes ! " cried the smith, " whose is that ? " " I don't know," Sir George answered grimly, and shot a glance of suspicion at Mr. Dunborough, who was leaning against the fore- wheel. But that gentleman shrugged his shoulders. "You need not look at me," he said. " It is not my box ; I have mine here." " Whose is it ? " Mr. Dunborough raised his eyebrows and did not answer. " Do you know ? " Sir George persisted fiercely. " No, I don't. I know no more about it than you do." " Maybe the lady took snuff ? " the smith said cautiously. Many ladies did, but not this one ; and Sir George sniffed his contempt. He turned the box over and over in his hand. It was a plain black box, of smooth enamel, about two inches long. H 196 THE CASTLE INN. ii! "I believe I have seen one like it," said Mr. Dunborongh, yawning. " But I'm hanged if I can tell where." "Has your honour looked inside?" the smith asked. *' Maybe there is a note in it." Sir George cut him short with an exclamation, and held the box up to the light. " There is something scratched on it," he said. There was. When he held the box close to the lanthorn, words rudely scratched on the enamel, as if with the point of a pin, became visible ; visible, but not immediately legible, so scratchy were the lettere and imperfectly formed the strokes. It was nor. until the fourth or fifth time of reading that Sir George made out the following scrawl : " Take to Fishwick, Castle, Marlboro'. Help ! Julia." Sir George swore. The box, with its pitiful, scarce articu- late cry, brought the girl's helpless position, her distress, her terror, more clearly to his mind than all that had gone before. Xor to his mind, only, but to his heart ; he scarcely asked himself why the appeal was made to another, or whence carrH- this box— which was plainly a man's, and still had snuff in it— or even whither she had been so completely spirited away that there remained of her no more than this, and the black kerchief, and about the carriage a fragrance of her— per- ceptible only by a lover's senses. A whirl of pity and rage —pity for her, rage against her captors— swept such questions from his mind. He was shaken by gusty impulses, now to strike Ur. Dunborough across his smirking face, now to give some frenzied order, now to do some foolish act that must expose him to disgrace. He had much ado not to break into hysterical weeping, or into a torrent of frantic oaths. The exertions of the night, following on a day spent in the saddle, the tortures of fear and suspense, this last disappointment, the shock of his fall— had all told on him ; and it was well that at this crisis Mr. Fishwick was at his elbow. THE EMPTY POST-CHAISE. 197 For the lawyer saw his face and read it aright, and inter- posing suggested an adjournment to the inn ; adding that while they talked the matter over and refreshed themselves, a messenger could go to Bath and bring back new horses \ in that way they might still be in Bristol by eight in the mornmg " Bristol ! " Sir George muttered, passing his hand across his brow. " Bristol ! But— she is not with them. We don't know where she is." Mr. Fishwick was himself sick with fatigue, but he knew what to do and did it. He passed his arm through Sir George's, and signed to the smith to lead the way to the inn. The man did so, the crowd made way for them, Mr. Duuborough aud the servant followed ; in less than a minute the three gentlemen stood together in the sanded tap-room at the tavern. The landlord hurried in and hung a lamp on a hook in the whitewashed wall ; its glare fell strongly on their features, and for the first time that night showed the three to one another. Even in that poor place, the light had seldom fallen on pei-sons in a more pitiable plight. Of the three, Sir George alone stood erect, his glittering eyes and twitching nostrils belymg the deadly pallor of his face. He was splashed with mud from head to foot, his coat was plastered where he had fallen, his cravat was torn and open at the throat. He still held his naked sword in his iiand ; apparently he had for- gotten that he held it. Mr. Dunborough was in scarce better condition. White and shaken, his hand bound to his side, he had dropped at once into a chair, and sat, his free hand plunged into his breeches pocket, his head sunk on his breast. Mr. Fishwick, a pale image of himself, his knees trembling with exhaustion, leaned against the wall. The adventures of the night had let none of the travellers escape. The landlord and his wife could be heard in the kitchen ^ki ^i 198 THE CASTLE INN. drawing ale and clattering plates, while the voices of the constable and his gossips, drawling their wonder and sur- mises, filled the passage. Sir George was the first to speak. " Bristol ! " he said dully. " Why Bristol ? " "Because the villains who have escaped us here," the lawyer answered, " we shall find there. And they will know what has become of her." "But shall we find them?" "Mr. Dnnborough will find them." " Ha ! " said Sir George, with a sombre glance. " So he will." Mr. Dunborough spoke with sudden fury. "I wish to Heaven," he said, " that I had never heard th^^ girl's name. How do I know where she is ! " "You will have to know," Sir George muttered between liis teeth. " Fine talk ! " Mr. Dunborough retorted, with a faint attempt at a sneer, " when you know as well as I do that I have no more idea where the girl is or what has become of her than that snuff-box. And d n me ! " he continued sharply, his eyes on the box, which Sir George still held in his hand, " whose is the snuff-box, and how did she get it ? That is what I want to know ? And why did she leave it in the carriage ? H we had found it dropped in the road now, and that kerchief round it, I could understand that ! But in the carriage. Pho ! I believe I am not the only one in this ! " i the CHAPTER XXI. IN THE CARRIAGE. The man whose work had takon him that evening to the summit of the DrnicFs ]\Iound, and whose tale roused the Castle Inn ten minutes later, had seen aright. But he had not seen all. Had he waited another minute, he would have marked a fresh actor appear at Manton Corner, would have witnessed the denouement of the scene, and had that to tell when he descended, which must have allayed in a degree, not only the general alarm, but Sir George's private apprehensions. It is when the mind is braced to meet a known emergency that it falls the easiest prey to the unexpected. Julia was no coward. But as she loitered along the lane beyond Pi'e- shute churchyard in the gentle hour before sunset, her whole being was set on the coming of the lover for whom she waited. As she thought over the avowal she would make to him, and conned the words she would speak to him, the girl's checks, though she believed herself alune, burned with happy blushes ; her breath came more quickly, her body swayed involuntarily in the direction whence he, who had chosen and honoured her, would come ! The soft glow which overspread the heights, as the sun went down and left the vale to peace and rest, was not more real or more pure than the happiness that thrilled her. Her heart overflowed in a tender ecstasy, as she thanked God, and her lover. In the peace that lay around her, she who had flouted Sir George, not once or 200 THE CASTLE INN. P'" % !■ Ik » twice, who had mocked and tormented him, in fancy kissed his feet. In such a mood as this she had neither eyes nor ears for aught but the coming of her lover. When she reached the corner, jealous that none but he should see the happy shining of her eyes— nor he until he stood beside her— she turned to walk back ; in a luxury of anticipation. Her lot was wonderful to her. She sang in her heart that she was blessed among women. And then, without the least warning, the grating of a stone even, or the sound of a footstep, a violent grip encircled her waist from behind ; something thick, rough, suffocating, fell on her head and eyes, enveloped and blinded her. The shock of the surprise was so great that for a moment breath and even the instinct of resistance failed her ; and she had been forced several steps, in what direction she had no idea, before sense and horror awoke together, and wresting herself, by the supreme effort of an active girl, from the grasp that confined her, she freed her mouth sufficiently to scream. Twice and shrilly ; then, before she could entirely rid her head of the folds that blinded her, a remorseless grip closed on her neck, and another round her waist ; and choking and terrified, vainly struggling and fighting, she felt herself pushed along, Coarse voices, imprecating vengeance on her if she screamed again, sounded in her ears ; and then for a moment her course was stayed. She fixucied that she heard a shout, the rush and scramble of feet in the road, new curses and imprecations. The grasp on her waist relaxed, and seizing her opportunity she strove with the strength of despair to wrest herself from the hands that still held the covering over her head. Instead, she felt herself lifted up, soraethiug struck her sharp])- on the knee ; the next moment she fell violently and all huddled up on— it might have been it IN THE CARRIAGE. 201 the ground, for all she knew ; it really was the seat of a carriage. The shock was no slight one, but she struggled to her feet, and heard, as she tore the covering from her head, a report as of a pistol shot. The next moment she lost her footing, and fell back. She alighted on the place from which she had raised herself, and was not hurt. But the jolt, which had jerked her from her feet, and the subsequent motion, disclosed the truth. Before she had entirely released her head from the folds of the cloak, she knew that ohe was in a carriage, whirled along behind swift horses ; and that the peril was real, and not of the moment, momentary I This was horror enough. But it was not all. One wild look round, and her eyes began to penetrate the gloom of the closely shut carriage — aud she shrank into her corner. She checked the rising sob that preluded a storm of rage and tears, stayed the frenzied impulse to shriek, to beat on the doors, to do anything that might scare the villains ; she sat frozen, staring, motionless. For on the scat beside her, almost touching her, was a man. In the dim light it was not easy to make out more than his figure. He sat huddled up in his corner, his wig awry, one hand to his face ; gazing at her, she fancied, between his fingers, enjoying the play of her rage, her agitation, her disorder. He did not move or speak when she discovered him, but in the circumstances that he was a man was enough. The violence with which she had been treated, the audacity of such an outrage in daylight and on the highway, the closed and darkened carriage, the speed at which they travelled, all were grounds for alarm as serious as a woman could feel ; and Julia, though she was a brave woman, felt a Budden horror come over her. None the less was her mind made up ; if the man moved nearer to her, if he stretched out so much as his hand towards her, she would tear his face .Ant ^K N 1 9t Bi &■' Hj ' t ffljjj ■ 1' - T: Ui'^ ii if !j)i !li: SEi».-{U ! 'I I : i 202 THE CASTLE INN. with her fingers. She sat with them on her lap and felt them as steel to do her hidding. The carrifigo rumbled on, and still he did not move. Frnm hpv corner she watched him, her eyes glittering with excitement, her breath coming quick and short. Would he never move ? In truth not three minutes had elapsed since she discovered him be>ido her ; but it seemed to her that she had sat there an age watching him ; ay, three ages. The light was dim and untrustwortliy, steaHng in through a crank hero and a crevice there. The carriage swayed and shook with the speed at which it travelled. More than once she thought that the man's hand, v/hich rested on the seat beside him, a fat white h .id, hateful, dubious, was moving, mo7ing slowly and stealthily along the cushion towards her; and she waited shuddering, a scream on her lips. The same terror which, a while before, had frozen the cry in her throat, now tried her in another way. She longed to speak, to shriek, to stand up, to break in c^o way or any way the hideous silence, the spell that bound her. Every moment the Bti'ain on her nerves grew tenser, the fear lest she should swoon, more immediate, more appalling; and still the man sat in his corner, motionless, peeping at her through his fingers, leering and biding his time. It was horrible, and it seemed endless. If she had had a weapon it would have been better. But she had only her bare hands and her despair ; and she might swoon. At last the carriage swerved sharply to one side, and jolted over a stone ; and the man lurched nearer to her, and — and moaned ! Julia drew a deep breath and leaned forward, scarcely able to believe her ears. But the man moaned again ; and then, as if the shaking had roused him from a state of stupor, sat up slowly in his corner ; she saw, peering more closely at him, that he had been strangely huddled before. At last he lowered his hand from his face and disclosed his $§'■ IN THE CARRIAGE. 203 and felt Dt move. ing with Vould he sed since • that she 08. The irough a ayed and ban once the seat moving, ards her ; rhe same J in her to speak, ' way the moment le should the man ough his ad had a only her At last 3d over a moaned ! scarcely ain ; and state of ing more i before, [osed his features. It was — her astonishment was immense — it was Mr. Thomasson ! In her surprise Julia uttered a cry. Tiie tutor opened his eyes and looked languidly at her ; muttered something inco- herent about his head, and shut his eyes again, letting his chin fall on his breast. But the girl was in a mood only one degree removed from frenzy. She leaned forward and shook his arm. ♦' Mr. Thomasson ! " she cried. *' Mr. Thomosson ! " Apparently the name and the touch were more effectual. He opened his eyes and sat up with a start of recognition, feigned or real. On his temple, just under the edge of his wig, which was awry, was a slight cut. lie felt it gingerly with his fingers, glanced at them, and fnulhig them stained with blood, shuddered. "I am afraid— I am hurt," he muttered. His languor and her excitement went ill together. She doubted he was pretending, and had a hundred ill- defined, half-formed suspicions of him. Was it possil.)le that ho — he had dared to contrive this? Or was he employed by others— by another ? " Who hurt you ? " she cried, sharply, kt least she was not afraid of him. He pointed in the dii'ection of the horses. "They did," he said stupidly. " I saw it from the lane and ran to help you. The man I seized struck me — here. Then, I suppose, they feared I should raise the country on thum. And they forced me in — I don't well remember how." "And that is all you know ? " she cried, imperiously. His look convinced her. "Then help me now ! " she replied, rising impetuously to her feet, and steadying herseb y setting one hand against the back of the carriage. " Shout ! Scream ! Threaten them 1 Dun't you see that every yard we are carried puts us farther in their power ? Shout !— do you hear ? " I 204 THE CASTLE INN. "They will murder us I " he protested faintly. His cheeks were pale; his face wore ii scared look, and he trembled visiblj-. " Let them ! " she answered, passionately, beating on the nearest door. " Better that than be in their hands. Help I Help I Help here ! " Her shrieks rose above the rumble of the wheels and the steady trampling of the horses; she added to the noise by kickmg and beating on the door with the fury of a mad woman. Mr. Thomasson had had enough of violence for that day; and shrank from anything that might brim,' on hnn the fresh wrath of his captors. But a moment's reHec- tion showed him that if he allowed himself to be carried on he would, sooner oi- later, find himself face to face with Mr. Dunborough ; and, in any case, that it was now his interest to stand by his comp.inio:i ; and presently he too tell to shout- ing and drumming on the panels. There was a quaver, indeed, in his "Help! Help!" that a littlo betrayed the man ; but in the determined clamour which she raised and continued to maintain, it passed well enough. "If we meet any one— they must hear us ! " she gasped, presently, pausing a moment to take breath. " Which way are we going ? " "Towards Calne, I think," he answered, continuing to drum on the door in the intervals of speech. " In the street we must be heard." " Help ! Help ! " she screamed, still more recklessly. She was growing hoarse, and the prospect terrified her. "Ho you hear ? Stop, villains I Help ! Help ! Help ! "• "Murder ! " Mr. Thomasson shouted, seconding her with voice and fist. " Murder ! Murder ! " But in the last word, despite his valiant determination to throw in his lot with her, was a sudden, most audible, quaver- The carriage was beginning to draw up, and that which he WPm^^ IN THE CARRIAGE. 05 1 had impcviously dornaiulod a moment ,e, lie m>.. as urjrcntly dreaded. Not so Julia ; her natural courage h .d returned, and the moment the vehicle came to a standstill and the door was opened, she flunjr herself towards it. The next instant she was pushed forcibly Imek by the muzzle of a huge horso-pistol which a man outside clapjied to her breast ; while the glare of the bull's-eye lanthorn which he thrust in her face blinded her. The man uttered the most horrid imprecations. " You noisy slut," he growlco, shoving his face, hideous in its crape mask, into the coach, and speaking in a voice husky with liquor, "will you stop your whining? Or must I blow you to pieces with my Toby ? For you, you white- livered sneak," he continued, addressing the tutor, "give me any more of your piping and I'll cut out your tongue I Who is hurting you, I'd like to know ! As for you, my fine lady, have a care of your skin, for if I pull you out into the road it will be the worse for you ! D'ye' hear me ?" he continued, with a volley of savage oaths. " A little more of your music, and I'll have you out and strip the clothes off your back ! You don't hang me for nothing. D n vou, we are three miles from anywhere, and I have a mind to gag you, whether or no ! And I will too, if you so much as open your squeaker again ! " " Let me go," she cried faintly. « Let me go." " Oh, you will be let go fast enough— the other side of the water," he answered, with a villainous laugh. "I'm bail to that. In the meantime keep a still tongue, or it will be the worse for you ! Once out of Bristol, and you may pipe as you like ! " The girl fell back in her corner with a low wall of despair. The man, seeing the efiecb he had produced, laughed his triumph, and in sheer brutality passed his light once or twice across her fiice. Then he closed the door with jiii 4^ i ■\ I £06 THE CASTLE INN. a crash auJ mounted ; the carriage boimded forward again, and in a trice was travelHng onward as rapidly as hofore. Night had Bet in, and darlmess, a darkness that could almost he felt, reigned in the interior of the chaise. Neither of the travellers could now see the otiier, though they sat within arm's length. The tutor, as soon as they were well started, and his nerves, sliaken by the man's threats, per- mitted him to think of anything save his own safety, began to wonder that his companion, who had been so forward before, did not now speak ; to look for her to speak, and to find the darkness and this silence, \\h\d\ left him to feed on his fears, strangely uncomfortable. He could almost believe that she was no longer there. At length, unable to bear it longer, he spoke. " I suppose you know," he said— he was growing vexed with the girl who had brought him into this peril — " who is at the bottom of this ? " She did not answer, or rather she answered only by a sudden burst of weeping ; not the light, facile weeping of a woman crossed or over- fretted, or frightened ; but the convulsive heart-rending sobbing of utter grief and aban- donment. The tutor heard, and was at first astonished, then alarmed. "My dear, good girl, don't cry like that," he said awkwardly. " Don't ! I — I don't understand it. You— you frighten me. You — }'ou really should nut. I only asked you if you knew whose work this was." " I know 1 I know only too well ! " she cried pas- sionately. " God help mc ! God help all women ! " Mr. Tliomasson v/ondered whether she referred to the future and her cwn fate. In that case, her complete surrender to despair seemed strange, seemed even inex- plicable, in one who a few minutes before had shown a f IN THE CARRIAGE. 207 Ipirit above a woman's. Or did she know something that he did not know ? Something that caused this sudden collapse. The ,:iaU{?ht increased his uneasiness; the coward dreads everything, and liis nerves were shaken. " Pish ! pish ! " he said pettishly. •' You should not give way like that 1 You should not, you must not give ^vayI" "And why not?" she cried, arresting her sobs. There was a ring of ex[)ectation in her voice, a hoping against hope. He fancied that she had lowered her hands and was peering at him. "Because we — we may yet contrive something," ho answered lamely. "• We — we may be rescued. Indeed— I am sure we shall be rescued," he continued, fighting his fears as well as hers. •' And what if we are ? " she cried with a passion that took him aback. «• What if we are ? What better am I if we are rescued ? Oh, I would have done anything for him ! I would have died for him ! " she continued wildly. "And he has done this for me. I would have given him all, all freely, for no return if he would have it so ; and this is his requital ! This is the way he lias gone to get it. Oh, vile ! vile ! " Mr. Thomasson started. Metaphorically, he was no longer in the dark. She fancied that Sir George, Sir George whom she loved, was the contriver of this villainy. She thought that Sir George — Sir George, her cousin— was the abductor ; that she Avas l)eing carried off, not for her own sake, but as an obstacle to be removed from his path. The conception took the tutor's breath away ; he was even staggered for the moment, it agreed so well with one part of the facts. And when an instant later his own certain information came to his aid and showed him its unreality, and he would have blurted out the truth — lie hesitated. The .'lisj ttri .JIL- -. . 208 THE CASTLE INN. words were on the tip of his tongue, the sentence was arranged, but he hesitated. Why? Simply because he was Mr. Thomasson, and it was not in his nature to do the thing tliat lay before him until he had eousidered whether it might not profit him to do something else. In this case the bare statement that Mr. Dunborough, and not Sir George, was the author of the outrage, would go for little with her. If he proceeded to his reasons he might convince her ; but he would also fix himself Avith a fore-knowledge of the danger — a fore-knowledge which he had not imparted to her, and which must sensibly detract from the merit of the service he had already and undoubtedly per- formed. This was a risk ; and there was a farther consideration. AVhy give Mr. Dunborough new ground for complaint by discovering him ? True, at Bristol she would learn the truth. But if she did not reach Bristol ? If they were overtaken midway ? In that case the tutor saw possibili- ties, if he kept his mouth shut — possibilities of profit at Mr. Dunborougli's hands. In intervals between fits of alarm — when the carriage seemed to be about to halt — he turned these things over. He could hear the girl weeping in her corner, quietly, but in a heart-broken manner ; and continually, while he thouglit and she wept, and an impenetrable curtain of darkness hid the one from the other, the chaise held on its course up-hill and down-hill, now bumping and rattling behind flying horses, and now rumbling and straining up Yatesbury Downs. At Inst he broke the silence. '* What makes you think," he said, " that it is Sir George has done this ? " She did not answer or stop weeping for a while. Then, "He was to meet me at sunset, at the Corner," she IN THE CARRIAGE. 200 said. "Who else knew that I should be there? Tell mo that." "Bub if he is at the bottom of this, where is he?" he hazarded. '* If he would play the villain with you " " He would play the thief," she cried passionately, "as he has played the hypocrite. Oh, it is vile ! vile I " "But — I don't understand," Mr. Thomasson stammered ; he was willing to hear all he could. "His fortune, his lands, all he has in the world are mine ! " she cried. " Mine ! And he goes this way to recover them ! But I could forgive him that, ah, I could forgive him that, but I cannot — forgive him " « What ? " he said. " His love ! " she cried fiercely. " That I will never forgive him ! Never ! " He knew that she spoke, as she had wept, more freely for the darkness. He fancied that she was writhing on her scat, that she was tearing her handkerchief with her hands. " But — it may not be he," he said after a silence broken only by the rumble of wheels and the steady trampling of the horse.*. " It is ! " she cried. " It is ! " " It may not " " I say it is ! " she repeated in a kind of fury of rage, shame, and impatience. " Do you think that I who loved him, I whom he fooled to the top of my pride, judge him too harshly ? I tell you if an angel from heaven had witnessed against him I would have laughed the tale to scorn. But I have seen — I have seen with my own eyes. The man who came to the door and threatened us had lost a joint of the fore-finger. Yesterday I saw that man with him ; I Ea>v the hand that held the pistol to-day give him a note yesterday. I saw him read the note, and T saw hi in Point me out to the man who bore it — that he might know to-day whom he was to seize I O.I. P •ii 210 THE CASTLE INN. Oh shame ! Shame on him ! " And she burst into fresh weeping. At that moment the chaise, which had been proceeding for some time at a more sober pace, swerved sharply to one side ; it appeared to sweep round a corner, jolted over a vough patch of ground, and came to a stand. nto fresh "oceeding ly to one d over a CHAPTER XXII. I «> FACILIS DESCENSUS. Let not those who would judge her harshly forget that Julia, to an impulsive and passionate nature, added a special and notable disadvantage. She had been educated in a sphere alien from that in which she now moved. A girl, brought up as Sir George's cousin and among her equals, would have known him to be incapable of treachery as black as this. Such a girl, certified of his love, not only by his words and looks but by her own self-respect and pride, would have shut her eyes to the most pregnant facts and the most cogent infer- ences ; and scorned all her senses, one by one, rather than believe him guilty. She would have felt, rightly or wrongly, that the thing was impossible ; and would have believed everything in the world, yes, everything, possible or impossible— yet never that he had lied when he told her that he bved her. But Julia had been bred in a lower condition, not far removed from that of the Pamela to whose good fortune she had humbly likened her own ; among people who regarded a Macaroni or a man of fashion as a wolf ever seeking to devour. To distrust a gentleman and repel his advances had been one of the first lessons instilled into her opening mind ; nor had she more than emerged from viildliood before she knew that a laced coat forewent destruction, and held the wearer of it a cozener, who in ninety-nine c^ses P 3 212 THE CASTLE INN. jli: 7i out of a hundred kept no faith with a woman beneath him, but lived only to break hearts and bring grey hairs to the grave. Out of this fixed belief she had been jolted by the upheaval that placed her on a level with Sir George. Per- suaded that the convention no longer applied to herself, she had given the rein to her fancy and her giilish romance, no less than to her generosity ; she had indulged in delicious visions, and seen them grow real ; noi' probably in all St. James's was there a happier woman than Julia when she found herself possessed of this lover of the prohibited class ; who to the charms and attractious, the niceness and refine- ment, which she had been bred to consider beyond her reach, added a devotion, the more delightful — since he believed her to be only what she seemed — as it lay in her power to reward it amply. Some women wauld have swooned with joy over such a conquest eHected in such circumstances. What wonder that Julia was deaf to the warnings and sur- mises of Mr. Fishwick, whom delay and the magnitude of the stakes rendered suspicious, as well as to the misgivings of old Mrs. IVIasterson, slow to grasp a new order of things ? It would have been strange had she listened to either, when youth, and wealth, and love all beckoned one way. But now, now in the horror and darkness of the post- chaise, the lawyer's warnings and the old woman's misgivings returned on her with crushing weight ; and more and heavier than these, her old belief in the heartlessness, the perfidy of the man of rank. At the statement that a man of the class with whom she had commonly mixed could so smile, while he played the villain, as to deceive not only her eyes but her heart— she would have laughed. But on the mind that lay behind the smooth and elegant mask of a genUemans face she had no lights ; or only the old lights ■t f FACILIS DESCENSUS. 213 which showed it desperately wicked. Anplyinsr these to the circumstances, what a hirid glare tliey shed on his behaviour ! How quickly, how suspiciously quickly, had he succumbed to her charms ! How abruptly had his insou- ciance changed to devotion, his impertinence to respect ! How obtuse, how strangely dull had he been in the matter of her claims and her identity t Finally, with what a smiliug visage bad he lured her to her doom, showed her to his tools, settled to a nicety the least detail of the crime ! More weighty than any one fact, the thing he had said to her on the staircase at Oxford came back to her mind. " If you were a lady," he had lisped in smiling insolence, " I would kiss you and make you my wife." In face of those words, she had been rash enough to think that she could bend him, ignorant that she was more than she seemed, to her purpose. She had quoted those very words to him when she hnd had it in her mind to surrender— the sweetest surrender in the world. And all the time he had been fooling her to the top of her bent. All the timft he had known who she was and been plotting against hci' devilishly— appointing hour and place and — and it was all over. It was all over. The sunny visions of love and joy were done ! It was all over. When the sharp, fierce pain of the knife had done its worst, the consciousness of that remained a dead weight on her brain. When the paroxysm of weeping had worn itself out, yet brought no relief to her passionate nature, a kind of apathy succeeded. She cared nothing where she was or what became of her ; the worst had happened, the worst been suffered. To be betrayed, cruelly, heartlessly, Avithout scruple or care by those we love —is there a sharper pain than this ? She had suffered that, she was suffering it still. What did the rest matter ? Mr. Thomasson might have undeceived her, but the Ai 214 THE CASTLE INN. "f f. UHSiL. sudden stoppai^e of the chaise had left no place in the tutor's mind for ano;ht but terror. At any moment, now the chaise was at a stand, the door mij^Wit open and he be hauled out to meet the fury of his pupil's eye, and feel the smart of his brutal whip. It needed no more to sharpen Mr. Thomasson's long ears— his eyes were useless ; but for a time crouchinf^ in his corner and scarce daring to breathe, he heard only the confused muttering of several men talking at a distance. Presently the speakers came nearer, he caught the click of flint on steel, and a bright gleam of light entered the chaise through a crack in one of the shutters. The men had lighted a lamp. It was only a slender shaft that entered, but it fell athwart the girl's face and showed him her closed eyes. She lay back in her corner, her cheeks colourless, an expression of dull, hopeless suffering stamped on her features. She did not move or open her eyes, and the tutor dared not speak lest his words should be heard outside. But he looked, hav'ng nothing to check him., and looked ; and in spite of his fears and his preoccupation, the longer he looked the deeper was the impression which her beauty made on his senses. He could hear no more of the men's talk than muttered grumblings plentifully bestrewn with curses ; and wonder what was forward and why they remained inactive grew more and more upon him. At length he rose and applied his eyes to the crack that admitted the light ; but he could distinguish nothing outside, tl:e lamp, which was close to the window, blinding him. At times he caught the clink of a bottle, and fancied that the men were supping ; but he knew nothing for certain, and by-and-by the light was put out. A brief — and agonising— period of silence followed, during which he thought that he caught the distant tramp of horses ; but he had heard the same sound before, it lU- III FACILI3 DESCENSUS. 215 might be the beating of his heart, and before he could decide, oaths and exclamations broke the silence, and there was a sudden bustle. In less than a minute the chaise hirched forward, a whip cracked, and they took the road again. The tutor breathed more freely, and, rid of the fear of being overheard, regained a little of his unctuousncss. "My dear good lady," he said, moving a trifle nearer to Julia, and even making a timid plunge for her hand, " you must r tgive way. I protest you must not give way. Depend on me ! Depend on me, and all will be well. I— oh dear, what a bump ! I "—this as he retreated precipitately to his corner — " I fear we are stopping ! " They wore, but only for an instant, that the lamps might be lighted. Then the chaise rolled on again, but from the way in which it jolted and bounded, shaking its passengers this way and that, it was evident that it no longer kept the main road. The moment this became clear to Mr. Thomas- son his courage vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. " Where are they taking us ? " he cried, rising and sitting down again ; and peering first this way and then the other. i'MyG d, we are undone ! We shall be murdered — I know we shall ! Oh dear ! what a jolt ! They are taking us to some cut-throat place ! There again ! Didn't you feel it ? Don't you understand, woman ? Oh, Lord," he continued, piteously wringing his hands, "why did I mix myself up with this trouble ? " She did not answer, and enraged by her silence and insensibility, the cowardly tutor could have found it in his heart to strike her. Fortunately the ray of light which now penetrated the carriage suggested an idea which he hastened to carry out. He had no paper, and, given paper, he had no ink ; but falling back on what he had, he lugged out his snuff-box and pen-knife, and holding tlie box in the ray of :[ ! 216 THE CASTLE INN. !f I WgU, and himself as still as the road permitted, he set to work, laboriously and with set teeth, to scrawl on the bottom of the box the message of which we know. To address it to Mr. Fishwick and sign it Julia were natural precautions, since he knew that the girl, and not he, would be the object of pursuit. When he had finished his task, which was no light one — the road growing worse and the carriage shaking more and more— ho went to thrust the box under the door, which fitted ill at the bottom. But stooping to remove the straw, he reflected that probably the road they were in was a country lane, where the box would be difficult to find ; and in a voice trembling with fear and impatience, he called to the girl to give him her black kerchief. She did not ask him why or for what, but complied with- out opening her eyes. No words could have described her state more eloquently. He wrapped the thing loosely in the kerchief— which he calculated ^.■ou]d cnfcli the passing eye more easily than the box — and knotted the ends together. But when he went to push the package under the door, it proved too bulky ; and, with an exclamation of rage, he untied it, and made it up anew and more tightly. At last he thought that he had got it right, and he stooped to feel for the crack ; but the carriage, which had been travelling more and more heavily and slowly, came to a sudden standstill, and in a panic he sat up, dropping the box and thrusting the straw over it with his foot. He had scarcely done this when the door was opened, and the masked man, who had threatened them before, thrust in his head. " Come out ! " he said curtly, addressing the tutor, who was the nearer. " And be sharp about it ! " But Mr. Thomasson's eyes, peering through the doorway, sought in vain the least siffn of house or village. Revond the yellow glare cast by the lamp on the wet road, he' saw FACILIS DESCENSUS. 217 the nothing but darkness, night, and the gloomy shapes of trees ; and he hung back. "No," he said, his voice quavering with fear. " I— my good man if you will promise " The man swore a frightful oath. " None of your t 'ngue ! " he cried, " V i out with you unless you want your throat cut. You cursed, whining, psalm-singing sniveller, you don't know when you are well off ! Out with you ! " Mr. Thomasson waited for no more, but stumbled out, shaking with fright. " And you ! " the ruffian continued, addressing the girl, " unless you want to be thrown out the same way you were thrown in ! The sooner I see your back, my sulky Madam, the better I shall be pleased. No more meddling with petticoats for me ! This comes of working with fine gentle- men, say I ! '■ Julia was but half roused. " Am I— to get out ? " she said dully. " Ay you are ! By G— d, you are a cool one ! " the man continued, watching her in a kind of admiration, as she rose and stepped by him like one in a dream. " And a pretty one for all your temper ! The master is not here, but the man is ; and if " " Stow it, you fool ! " cried a voice from the darkness, *' and get aboard ! " "Who said anything else?" the ruffian retorted, but with a look that, had Julia been more sensible of it, must have chilled her blood. " Who said anything else ? So there you are, both of you, and none the worse, I'll take my davy ! Lash away, Tim ! Make the beggars fly ! " As he uttered the last words he sprang on the wheel, and before the tutor could believe his good fortune, or feel assured that there was not some cruel deceit playing on him, the carriage splashed up the mud, and rattled a^ay. In a trice the lights grew small and were gone, and the two r I' 1 218 THE CASTLE INN. were left stnnrling side by side in the darkncsi?. On one hand ft mass of trees rose ]n\'h above them, blotting out the grey sky ; on the other the faint oiith'ne of a low Avail appeared to divide tlic lane in whioh they stood — the mud rising rapidly about their shoes— from a flat aguish expanse over which the night hung low. It was a strange position, but neither of the two felt this to the full ; Mr. Thomassou in his thankfulness that at any cost he had eluded Mr. Dunboroijh's vengeance, Julia because at the moment she cared not what became of her. Naturally, however, Mr. Thomasson, whose satisfaction knew no drawback save that of their present condition, and who had to congratulate himself on a risk safely run, and a good friend gained, was the first to speak. " My dear young lady," he said, in an insinuating tone, very diiferenfc from that in which he had called for her ker- chief, " I vow I am more thfinkfal than I can s:iy, that I was able to come to.yonr assistance ! I shudder to thiuk what those ruffians might not have done had you been alone, and —and unprotected ! Xow I trust all danger is over. We have only to find a house in which we can pass the niglit, and to-morrow we may laugh at our troubles ! " She turned her head towards him. " Laugh ? " she said, and a sob took her ir> the throat. He felt himself sec back ; then remembered the delusion under which she lay, and went to dispel it— pompously. But his evil angel was at his shoulder ; again at the last moment he hesitated. Something in the despondency of the girl's figure, in the hopelessness of her tone, in the intensity of the grief that choked her utterance, wrought with the remembrance of her beauty and her disorder in the coach, to set his crafty mind working in a new direction. He saw that she was for the time utterly hopeless ; utterly heedless what became of herself. That would not last ; f." ? FACILIS DESCENSUS 219 but Ilia cunnini? told him tlmt Avith rcturiiinj,' sensibility would come pique, resentmcut, the desire to be avenj,'cd. In such a case oue man was sometimes us good as another. It was impossible to say what she mij,dit not do or be induced to do, if full advantapje were taken of a moment so exceptional. Fifty thousand pounds ! And her fresh young beauty I What au opening it was ! The way lay far from clear, the me as were to find; but faint heart never won fair lady, and ]Mr. Thomasson had known strange things come to pass. He was quick to choose his part. " Come, child," he said, assuming a kind of paternal authority. " At least we must find a roof, AVe cannot spend the night here." " Xo," she said dully, " I suppose not." " So — shall we go this way ? " " As you please," she answered. They started, but had not moved far along the miry road before she spoke again. " Do you know," she asked drearily, " why they set us down ? " He was puzzled himself as to that, but, "They may have thought that the pursuit was gaining on them," he answered, " ar d become alarmed." Which was in pare the truth ; though Mr. Dunborough's failuretoappear at the rendezvous bad been the main fector in determining the men. " Pursuit ? " she said. " Who would pursue us ? " " Mr. Fishwick," he suggested. **Ah!" she answered bitterly; "he might. If I had listened to him 1 If I had — but it is over now." " I wish we could see a light," Mr. Thomasson said, anxiously looking into the darkness, "or a house of any kind. I wonder where we are." She did not speak. "I do not know— even what time it is," he continued pettishly ; and he shivered. " Take care ! " She had i 220 : ii Hi i 2 i THE CASTLE INN. Stumbled and nearly fallen. " Will you be pleased to take iny arm, and we snull bo able to proceed more quickly I am afraid that your feet are wet." Absorbed in her thoure found to proceed from two windows in the «:round floor of a large house. Tiie travellers had not advanced many paces towards them heforc the jKaks of three gjihks rose above them, vandyking the sky and docking the last sparse brunches of the elms. Mr. Thomassou's exclamation of relief as he surveyed the building, was cut short by the harsh rattle of a chain, followed by the roar of a watch-dog, as it bounded from the kennel ; in a second a horrid raving and baying, as of a score of hounds, awoke the night. 'J'he startled tutor came near to dropping his companion's hand, but fortunately the thresnold, dimly pillared and doubtfully Palladian, was near, and resisting the impulse to put himself back to back with the girl— for the protection of his calves rathe:- than her skirts— the reverend gentleman hurried to occupy it. Once in that coign of refuge, he hammered on the door with the energy of a frightened man. When his anxiety permitted him to pause, a voice aade Itself heard within, cursing * dogs and roaring for Jarvey. A line of a hunting song, bawled at the top of a musical voice and ending in a shrill "View Halloa ! " "ollowed ; then "To theui, beauties; to them!" and tne crash of an overxiirned chair. Again the house echoed with '• Jarvey, Jarvey ! " on top of which the door opened and an elderly manservant, with h- wig set on askew, his waistcoat unbuttoned, and his mouth twisted into a tipsy smile confronted the wanderers. * :M M. ,-il CHAPTER XXIII. BULLY POMEEOx. The man held a candle in a hand that wavered and strewed tallow broadcast ; the light from this for a moment dazzled the visitors. Then the draught of air extinguished it, and looking over the servant's shoulder— he was short and squat — Mr.^Thomasson's anxious eyes had a glimpse of a spacious old-fashioned hall, panelled and furnished in oak, with here a blazon, and there antlers or a stuffed head. At the farther end of the hall a wide easy staircase rose, to branch at the first landing into two flights, that returning formed a gallery round the apartment. Between the door and the foot of the staircase, in the warm glow of an unseen fire, stood a small heavily-carved oak table, with Jacobean legs, like stutfed trunk hose. This was strewn with cards, liquors, glasses, and a china punch-bowl ; but especially with cards, which lay everywhere, not only on the table, but in heaps and batches beneath and around it, where the careless hands of the players had flung them. Yet, for all these cards, the players were only two. One, a man something under forty, in a peach coat and black satin breeches, sat on the edge of the tal)le, his eyes on the door and his chair lying at his feet. It was his voice that had shouted for Jarvey and that now saluted the arrivals with a boisterous " Two to one in guineas, it's a catchpoll ! D'ye take mc, my lord?"— the while he drnmmed merrily with his heels on a leg of the table. His companion, an 3ULLY POMEROY. 223 exhausted young man, thin and pale, remained in his chair, which he had tilted on its hinder feet ; and contented liimself with staring at the doorway. The latter was our old friend, Lord Almeric Doyley ; but neither he nor Mr. Thomasson knew one another, until the tutor had advanced some paces into the room. Then, as the gentleman in the peach coat cried, "Curse me, if it isn't a parson ! The bet's off ! Off I " Lord Almeric dropped his hand of cards on the table, and opening his mouth gasped in a paroxysm of dismay. "Oh, Lord," he exclaimed, at last. "Hold me, some one ! If it isn't Tommy ! Oh, I say," he continued, rising and speaking in a tone of querulous remonstrance, " you have not come to tell me the old man's gone ! And I'd pitted him against Bedford to live to — to — but it's like him ! It is like him, and monstrous unfeeling. I vow and protest it is ! Eh ! oh, it is not that ! Hal — loa ! " He paused there, his astonishment greater even than that which he had felt on recognising the tutor. His eye had lighted on Julia, whose figure was now visible on the threshold. His companion did not notice this. He Avas busy identifying the tutor. " Gad ! it is old Thomasson ! " he cried, for he too had been at Pembroke " And a petticoat ! And a petticoat ! " he repeated. "Well, I am spun ! " The tutor raised his hands in astonishment. " Lord ! " he said, with a fair show of enthusiasm, " do I really see my old friend and pupil, Mr. Pomcroy of Bastwick ? " "Who put the cat in your valise? 'When you got to London— kittens ? You do, Tommy." " I thought so ! " Mr. Thomasson answered efl'usively. " I was sure of it ! I never forget a face when my — my heart has once gone out to it ! And you, rijy dear, my ve^ dear Lord Almeric, there is no danger I shall ever " i M 224 THE CASTLE INN. " But, crib me, Tommy," Lord Almeric shrieked, cutting him short without ceremony, so great was his astonishment, " it's the Little Masterson ! " " You old fox ! " Mr. Pomeroy chimed in, shaking his finger at the tutor with leering solemnity ; he, belonging to an older generation at the College, did not know her. Then, " The Little Masterson, is it ? " he continued, advancing to the girl, and saluting her with mock ceremony. "Among friends, I suppose? Well, my dear, for the future be pleased to count me among them. Welcome to my poor house ! And here's to bettering your taste — for, fie, my love, old men are naughty. Have naught to do with them ! " And he laughed wickedly. He was a tall, heavy man, with a hard, bullying, sneering face ; a Dunborough grown older. " Hush ! my good sir. Hush ! " Mr. Thomasson cried anxiously, after making more than one futile effort to stop him. Between his respect for his companion, and the deference in which he held a lord, the tutor was in agony. " My good sir, my dear Lord Almeric, you are in error," he continued strenuously. "You mistake, I assure you, you mistake " " Do we, by Gad ! " Mr. Pomeroy cried, winking at Julia. "Well, you and I, my dear, don't, do we? We understand one another very well." The girl only answered by a fierce look of contempt. But Mr. Thomasson was in despair. "You do not, indeed!" he cried, almost wringing his hands. "This lady has lately come into a — into money, she tells me, and to-night was carried off by some villains from the Castle Inn at Marlborough in a — in a post-chaise. I was fortu- nately on the spot to give her such protection as I could, bub the villains overpowered me, and to nreveut m.y wiving the alarm, as I take it, bundled me into the chaise with her," H1 BULLY POMEROY. 22i you " You dou't " Every word " Oh, come," said Mr. Pomcroy, grinning expect us to swallow that ? " " It is true, as I live." the tutor protested, of it." " Then how come you here ? " " Not far from your gate, for no reason that I can under- stand, they turned us out, and made off." "Honest Abraham?" Lord Almeric asked; he had listened open-mouthed. " Every word of it," the tutor answered. "Then, my dear, if you have a fortune, sit down," cried Mr. Pomeroy; and seizing a chair he handed it with exaggerated gallantry to Julia, who still remained near the door, frowning darkly at the trio; neither ashamed nor abashed, but proudly and coldly contemptuous. "Make yourself at home, my pretty," he continued familiarly, " for if you have a fortune it is the only one in this house, and a monstrous uncommon thing. Is it not, my lord ? " "Lord! I vow it is!" the other drawled; and then, taking advantage of the moment when Julia's attention was engaged tlsewhcre— she dumbly refused to sit, "Where is Duiiborough ? " my lord muttered. " Heaven know.s" Mr. Thomasson whispered, with a wink that postponed inquiry. " What is more to the purpose," he continued aloud, " if I may venture to make the sug- gestion to your lordship and Mr. Pomeroy, Miss Masterson has been much distressed and fatigued this eveniug. If there is a respectable elderly woman in the house, therefore, to whose care you could entrust her for the night, it were well." "There is old Mother Oliiey," Mr. Pomeroy answered, assenting with a readier grace than the tutor expected, " who locked lierself up an hour ago ior fear of us young bloods. She should be old and ugly enough ! Here you° C.I. Q '1' f' f If iMSkSM 226 THE CASTLE INN. Jarvey, go and kick in her outworks, and bid her come down." "Better still, if I may suggest it," said the tutor, who was above all things anxious to be rid of the girl before too much was said—" Might not your servant take Miss above stairs to this good woman— who will doubtless see to her comfort ? Miss Masterson has gone through some sur- prising adventures this evening, and I think it were better if you allowed her to withdraw at once, Mr. Pomeroy." " Jarvey, take the lady," Mr. Pomeroy cried. "A sweet pretty toad she is. Here's to your eyes and fortune, child ! " he continued with an impudent grin ; and filling his glass he pledged her as she passed. After that he stood watching while Mr. Thomasson opened the door and bowed her out ; and this done and the door closed after her, " Lord, what ceremony ! " he said, with f-n ugly sneer. " Is't real, man, or are you bubbling her ? And what is this Cock-lane story of a chaise and the rest? Out with it, unless you want to be tossed in a blanket." " True, upon my honour ! " Mr. Thoma^sson asseverated. " Oh, but 'J'ommy, the fortune ? " Lord Almeric protested seriously. " I vow you are sharping us." " True too, my lord, as I hope to be saved ! " " True ? Oh, but it is too monstrous absurd," my lord wailed. "The Little Masterson? As pretty a httle tit as was' to be found in all Oxford. The Little Masterson a fortune ? " "She has eyes and a shape," Mr. Pomeroy admittea generously. "For the rest, what is the figure, Mr. Thomasson?" he continued. "There are fortunes and fortunes." Mr. Thmnapsnn looked at the gallery above, and thence, and slyly, to his companions and back again to the gallery ; r come or, who fore too iS above '. to her lie sur- •e better A sweet child ! " lis glass omasson and the he said, bubbling 1 and the 3ed in a erated. protested my lord little tit isterson a admittea are, Mr. mes and i thence, 3 gallery ; BULLY POMEROY. 227 and swallowed something that rose in his throat. At length he seemed to make up his mind to speak the truth, though when he did so it was in a voice little above a whisper. "Fifty thousand," he said, and looked guiltily round him. Lord Aim ^rio rose from his chair as if on springs. " Oh, I protest ! " he said. " You are roasting us. Fifty thousand ! It's a bite ? " But Mr. Thomasson nodded. "Fifty thousand," he repeated softly. " Fifty thousand." " Pounds ? " gasped my lord. " The Little Masterson ? " The tutor nodded again ; and without asking leave, with a dogged air unlike his ordinary bearing when he waa in. the company of those above him, he drew a decanter towards him, and filling a glass with a shaking hand raised it to his lips and emptied it. The tiiree were on their feet round the table, on which several candles, luridly lighting up their faces, still burned ; while others had flickered down, and smoked in the guttering sockets, among the empty bottles and the litter of cards. In one corner of the table the lees of wine had run upon the oak, and dripped to the floor, and formed a pool, in which a broken glass lay in fragments beside the overturned chair. An observant eye might have found on the panels below the gallery the vacant nails and dusty lines whence Lelys and Knellers, Cuyps and Houdekoeters had looked down on two genera- tions of Pomeroys. But in the main the disorder of the scene centred in the small table and the three men standing round it ; a lighted group, islanded in the shadows of the hall. Mr. Pomeroy waited with impatience until Mr. Thomasson Then, '' Let us have the etory," he said. :na orange the fool is trickJRg us." his head, and turned to Lord Almerio, Q 2 lowered his glass m ii 'X2S THE CASTLE INN. *' You know Sir George Soane," he said. " Well, my lord, she is his cousin." ** Oh, tally, tally ! " my lord cried. " You— you are romancing, Tommy ! " " And under the will of Sir George 's grandfather she takes fifty thousand pounds, if she make good her claim wit hin a certain time from to-day." " Oh, I say, you are romancing I " my lord repeated, more feebly. " You know, you rea Uy should not ! It is too uncommon absurd, Tommy." " It's true ! " said Mr. Thomasson. " What ? That this porter's wench at Pembro ke has fifty thousand pounds ?" cried Mr. Pomeroy. " She is the porter's wench, isn't she ?" he continued. Something had sobered him. His eyes shone, and the veins stood out on his forehead. But his manner was concise and harsh, and to the point. Mr. Thomasson glanced at him stealbhily, as one gamester scrutinises another over the cards. ' ' She is Masterson, the porter's, foster-child," he said. " But is it certain that she has the money ? " the other cried rudely. '* Is it true, man ? How do you know ? Is it public property ? " "No," Mr. Thomasson answered, "it is not public property. P 't is certain and it is true ! " Then, after a moment's he ition, " I saw some papers — by accident," he said, his eyes on the gallery. " Oh, d n your accident 1 " Mr. P omeroy cried brutally. *' You are very line to-night. You were not used to be a Methodist ! Hang it, man, we know you," he continued violently, " and this is not all ! This does not bring you and the girl tramping the country, knocking at doors at midnight with Cock-lane stories of chaises and abductions. Come to it, man, or "' r II J BULLY POMEROY. 229 " Oh, I sny," Lord Almeric protested weakly, " Tommy is on lioncRt man iu his way, and you are too stiff with him." " D n him ! my lord ; let him come to the point then," Mr. Pomeroy retorted savagely. "Is she in the way to got the money ? " " She is,' ' said the tutor sullenly. " Then what brings her here — with you, of all people ? " " I will tell you if you will give me time, Mr. Pomeroy," the tutor said plaintively. And he proceeded to describe in some detail all that had happened, from ih^fonset origomali — Mr. Bunborough's passion for the girl — to the stay at the Castle Inn, the abduction at ]\lanton Corner, the strange night journey in the chaise, and the stranger release. When he had done, * ' Sir George was the girl's fancy-man, then ? " Pomeroy said, in the harsh overbearing tone he had suddenly adopted. The tutor nodded. " And she thinks he has tricked her ? " " But for that and the hrmcurshe is in," Mr. Thomasson answered, with a subtle glance at the other's face, "you and I might talk here till Doomsday, and be none the better, Mr, Pomeroy." H is frankn ess provoked Mr. Pomeroy to greater frank- ness. *' Consume your impertinence ! " he cried. " Speak for yourself," " She is not that kind of woman," said Mr. Thomasson firmly. "Kind of woman? "cried Mr. Pomeroy furiously. "I am this kind of man. Oh, d n you ! if you want plain speaking you shn 11 have it! She has fifty thousand, and she is in my hous e ; well, I am this kind of man ! I'll not let that money go out of the house Tvithout having a iiing at it ! It is the devil's luck has sent her here, and it will be m I' •'« m It. I (J , •i! ^ 230 THE CASTLE INN. ray folly will send her away— if she goes. Which she does not if I am the kind of man I think I am. So there for you 1 There's plain speakinj?." "You don't know her," Mr. Thomasson answered doggedly. " Mr. Dunborough is a gentleman of mettle, and he could not bend her." " She was not in his house ! " the other retorted, with a grim laugh. Then, in a lower, if not more amicable tone, " Look here, man," he continued, " d'ye mean to say that you had not something of this kind in your mind when you knocked at this door ? " " I ! " Mr. Thomasson cried, virtuously indignant. " Ay, you ! Do you mean to say you did not see that here was a chance in a hundred ? In a thousand ? Ay, in a million ? Fifty thousand pounds is not found in the road any day ? " Mr. Thomasson grinned in a sickly fashion. " I know that," he said. " Well, what is your idea ? What do you want ? " The tutor did not answer on the instant, but after stealing one or two furtive glances at Lord Almeric, looked down at the table, a nervous smile distorting his mouth. At length, " I want— her," he said ; and passed his tongue furtively over his lips. " The girl ? " "Yes." " Oh Loru . " said Mr. Pomeroy, in a voice of disgust. But the ice broken, Mr. Thomasson had more to say. *' Why not ? " he said plaintively. " I brought her here- with all submission. I know her, and — and am a friend of hers. If she is fair game for any one, she is fair game for me. I have run a risk for her," he continued pathetically, and touched his brow, where the slight cut he had received iu the struggle with Dunborough's men showed below the BULLY POMEROY. 231 border of his wig, " and — and for that matter, Mr. Pomcroy is not the only man who has hailifrs to avoid." "Stuff me, Tommy, if I am not of your opinion ! " cried Lord Ahneric. And he struck tlie table with unusual energy. Pomeroy turned on ,him in surprise as great as his dis- gust. *' What ? " he cried. " You would give the girl and her money — fifty thousand — to this old hunks I " " I ? Not I ! I would have her myself 1 " his lordship answered stoutly. " Come, Pomeroy, you have won three hundred of me, and if I am not to take a hand at this, I shall think it low ! Monstrous low I shall think it ! " he repeated in the tone of an injured person. " You know, Pom, I want money as well as another — want it devilish bad " "You have not been a Sabbatarian, as I was for two months last year," Mr. Pomeroy retorted, somewhat cooled by this wholesale rising among his allies, " and walked out Sundays only for fear of the catchpolls." "No, but " " But I am not now, either. Is that it ? Why, d'y-e think, because I pouched six hundred of Flitney's, and three of yours, and set the mare going again, it will last forever ? " " No, but fair's fair, and if I am not in this, it is low. It is low, Pom," Lord Ahneric continued, sticking to his point with abnormal spirit. " And here is Tommy will tell you the same. You have had three hundred of me " " At cards, dear lad ; at cards," Mr. Pomeroy answered easily. " But this is not cards. Besides," he continued> shrugging his shoulders and pouncing on the argument, " we cannot all marry the girl ! " " I don't know," my lord answered, passing his fingers tenderly through his wig. " I — I duu t commit mvself to that." r 232 THE CASTLE INN. "Well, at any rate, wc cannofc all liavc the money!" Pomeroy replied with sufTioiont impatience. " But we can all try I Cau'fc we, Tommy ? " Mr. Thomasson's face, when the question was pat to him in that form, was a curious study. Mr. Pomeroy had spoken aright when he called it a cliance in a hundred, in a thousand, in ii million. It was a chfinf^e, at any rate, that was not likely to come in Mr. Thomasson's way again. True, he appreciated more cor.3ctly than the others the obstacles in the way of success— the girl's strong will and wayward temper ; but he knew also the humour which had now taken liolrl of her, and how likely it was that it might lead her to strange lengths if the right man spoke at the right moment. The very fact that Mr. Pomeroy had seen the chance and gauged the possibilities, gave them a more solid aspect and a greater reality in the tutoi's mind. Each moment that passed left him less willing to resign pretensions which were no longer the shadowy creatures of the brain, but had accjaired the aspect of solid claims— claims made his by skill and exertion. But if he defied Mr. Pomeroy, how would he stand ? The girl's position in this solitary house, apart from her friends, was half the battle ; in a sneaking way, though he shrank from facing the fact, he knew that she was at their mercy ; as much at their mercy as if they had planned the abduction from the first. AVithout Mr. Pomeroy, therefore, the master of the house and the strongest spirit of the three-- — He got no farther, for at this point Lord Almerio repeated his question ; and the tutor, meeting Pomeroy's bullying eye, found it necessary to say something, " Cer- tainly," he stammered at a venture, " wc can all try, my lord. Why not ? " *' Ay, why not ? " said Lord Almeric. " Why not try ? " BULLY POMEROY. 233 " Try ? But how are yon going to try ? " Mr. Pomoroy re5=pon(k-(l with a jc( ring lauoh. " I tell you, we cannot all marry the girl." Lord Alincric burst into a sndtlen fit of chuckling. " 1 vow and protest I have it ! " he cried. •* We'll i)l!iy for her ! Don't yon see, Pom .> "WVil cut for her! llu! ha! That is surpiising clever of me, don't yon think ? We'll nlav for her J" ^ ^ m Ill i k 11 CHAPTER XXIV. CUTTING FOR THE QUEEN. It was a suggestion so purely in the spirit of a day when men betted on every coutiugcncy, public or private, decorous or the reverse, from the fecundity of a sister to the longevity of a sire, that it sounded less indecent in the ears of Lord Almeric's companions than it dees in ours. Mr. Thomasson indeed, who Avas only so far a gamester as every man who had pretensions to be a geiuieman was one at that time, and who had seldoui, since the days of Lady Harrington's fiiro bank, staked mon; than he could aftbrd, hesitated and looked dubious. But Mr. Pomeroy, a reckless and hardened gambler, gave a boisterous assent, and in the face of that the tutor's objections went for nothing. In a trice, all the cards and half the glasses were swept pell-mell to the floor, a new pack was torn open, the candles were suulfed, and Mr. Pomeroy, smacking him on the back, was bidding him draw up. " Sit down, man I Sit down ! " cried that gentleman, who had regained his jovial humour as quickly as he had lost it, and whom the prospect of the stake appeared to intoxicate. "May I burn if I ever played for a girl before ! Hang it ! man, look cheerful. We'll toast her first— and a daintier bit never swam in a bowl— and play for her afterwards ! Come, no heel-taps, my lord. Drink her! Drink her! Here's to the Mistress of Bastwick ! " " Lady Ahneric Doyley ! " my lord erica, rising, and CUTTING FOii THE QUEEN. 235 bowinpf with his hand to his heart, while he ogled the door through wliich slie had disappeared. " I drink you ! Here's to your pretty faee, ray dear 1 " "Mrs. Thoinassoii ! " cried the tutor, "I driuk to you. But ' *• But what shall it be, you meau ? " Pomeroy ciiod briskly. " Loo, Quinze, Faro, Lansquenet ? Ur cribbage, all-fours, put, Mr. Parson, if you like ! It's ail one to me. Name your game and I am your man ! " " Then let us shuffle and cut, and the higlicst takes," suid the tutor " Sho I man, where is the sport in that ? " Pome .oy cri<;J, receivin:.' div -iiggcstion with disgust "It is what Lord Almeric proposed," Mr. Thomasson answeisd. The wo glasses of wine he Lad taken had given him com \ta — ovfr ijis CHAPTER XXV. LORD ALIIERIC'S SUIT. When Julia awoke in the morning, without start or shock, to the dreary consciousness of all she had lost, she was still under the influence of the despair which had settled on her spirits overnight, and had run like a dark stain through her troubled dreams. Fatigue of )3ody and lassitude of mind, the natural consequences of the passiou and excitement of her adventure, combined to deaden her faculties. She rose aching in all her limbs — yet most at heart — and wearily dressed herself ; but neither saw nor heeded the objects round her. The room to which poor puzzled Mrs. Olneyhad hastily con- signed her looked over a sunny strctcli of park, sprinkled with gnarled thorn-trees that poorly filled the places of the oaks and chestnuts which the gaming-table had consumed. Still, the outlook pleased the eye, nor was the chamber itself lacking in liveliness. The panels on the walls, wherein needle- work cockatoos and flamingoes, wrought under Queen Anne, strutted in (he care of luiedlework blackboys, were faded and dull ; but the [(kasant white dimity with which the bed waa hung relieved aud lightened thenj. Te Julia it was all one. Wrapped in bitter thoughts and reminiscences, her bosom heaving from time to time with ill-restrained grief, she gave no thought to such things, or even to her position, until Mrs. Olney appeared aud informed her that breakfast awaited her in another room. Then, "Can I not take it here ?" she asked, shrinking painfully liom the prospect of meeting any one. B 2, 244 THE CASTLE INN. '1 Vi -4 1 *'Here?" Mrs. Olney repeated. The housekeeper never closed her month, except when she spoke ; for which reason, perhaps, hor face faithfully mirrored the weakness of her mind. "Yes," said Julia. "Can I not take it here, if you plense ? I suppose — wc shall have to start by-and-by ? " she added, shivering. " By-and-by, ma'am ?" Mrs. Olncy answered. " Oh, yes." "Then I can have it here." " Oh, yes, if you please to follow me, ma'am." And she held the door open. Julia shrugged her shoulders, and, contesting the matter no further, followed the good woman along a corridor and through a door which shnt off a second and shorter passage. From this three doors opened, apparently into as many apartments. Mrs. Ohioy threw one wide and nshered her into a room damp-smelling, and hung with drab, but of good size and otherwise comfortable. The windows looked over a neglected Dutch garden, which was so rankly over- grown that the box hedges scarce rose above the wilderness of parterres. Beyond this, and divided from it by a deep- sunk fence, a pool fringed with sedges and marsh-weeds carried the eye to an alder thicket that closed the prospect. Julia, in her relief on finding that the table was laid for one only, paid no heed to the outlook or to the bars that crossed the windows, but sank into a chair and mechanically ate and drank. Apprised after a wlh.o that Mrs. Olney had returned and was watching her with fatuous good-nature, she asked her if she knew at what hour she was to leave. " To leave ? " said the housekeeper, whose almost invari- able custom it was to repeat the last words addressed to her. " Oh, yes, to leave. Of course." "But at what time?" Julia asked, wondering whether the woman was as dull as she Fcemed. m.i -Hi LORD ALMERIc's SUIT. 215 " Yes, at what timo ? " Then after a pause and with a plionomenal ell'ort, "I will go and see— if joii please." She returned presently. ♦' There are no horses," she said. " When they are ready the gentleman will let you know." " They have sent for some ? " "Sent for some," repeated Mrs. Olney, and nodded, but whether in assent or imbecility it was hard to say. After that Julia troubled her no more, but rising from h:r meal had recourse to the window and her own thou farther and fare worse 1 Lord, 1 LORD ALMERIC'S SUIT. 251 " Lord it. " I rd ! you id then, !iirt was of it as lassoii — "he said I kind to II be my ivith the e Kind's lieu you ;cci) your lali, " he laughs best who laughs hist. But there, you arc not afraid of me, pretty ? You'll let me buss you ? " But Julia, Willi a face grown suddenly white, shrank back and held out her hand. " Sukes ! but to seal the bargain, child," he remonstrated, trying to got near her. 'Sho i'urcvd a I'aiiit smile and, Htill retreating, gave him her han.l to kiss. "Seal it on thai," she said graciously. Then, " Vour lunhihip will piir(h)n me, I am sure. I am not very well, and— and yesterday liar shaken me. Will yuu be so good as to leave me now, until to-morrow ? " " To-morrow ! " ho cried. " To-morrow 1 Why, it ia an age ! Au eternity ! " But she was determined to have until to-moiTOW— God 1.,., ,,.» ,.,i.v A Mil ivifV. u littli. Hfinm>KH. she persuaded him, and lie went. ' that a ce." B much Vhat ! " hat you It? Do ipy-gl;i88 , "Yes, ic mind, skipping ly lady ! t to kill ive done seventh comical jhs last. 11 let me ink back nstrated, ^uve hi in •acioiisly. L\ I am e. Will V ?" hy, it is ow — God ulod him. CHAPTER XXYl BOON COAI PAN IONS. Loud Almeric flew down the stairs on the win-s of triumph reiiearsing at eacli corner the words in which he would announce his con R 256 THE CASTLE INN. thousand pounds, " you make me infinitely happy. You do indeed ! I {jive your lordship joy ! I assure you that it will ever be a matter of the deepest satisfaction to me that I was the cause under Providence of her presence here ! A fine woman, my lord, and a— a commensurate fortune ! " " A fine woman ? Gad ! you'd say so if you had held her in your arms ! " cried my lord, strutting and lying. ♦* I am sure," ^Ir. Thomasson hastened to say, " your lordship is every way to be congratulated." " Gad 1 you'd 8;iy so, Tommy ! " the other reix;ated with a wink, lie was in the seventli heaven of delight. So far all went swimmingly, neither of them remarking that Mr. Tomeroy kept silence. But at this point the tutor, whose temper it was to be uneasy unless all were on his side, happened to turn, saw that he kept his scat, and was struck with the blackness of his look. Anxious to smooth over any unpleasantness, and to recall him to the requirements of the occasion, "Come, :Mr. Pomeroy," he cried jestingly, "shall wo drink her ladyship, or is it too early in the day ? " Bully Pomeroy thrust his hands deep into his breeches pockets and did not budge. " 'Twill be time to drink her wlien the ring is on ! " he said, with an ugly sneer. " Oh, I vow and protest that's ungcnteel," my lord com- pliiined. " 1 vow and protest it is ! " he repeated querulously. " See here, Poin, if you had wou her, I'd not treat you like this ! " " Your lordship has not won her yet," was the churlish answer. " But she has said it, I tell you. She said she'd have mo." "She won't be the rnvt woman has altered her mind, nor the last," Mr. Pomeroy retorted with an oath. "You may be amazing sure of that, my lord." And muttering some- thing about a woman and a fori being near akin, he spurnec^ BOON COMPANIONS. 257 You do u that it me that icre ! A me ! " [ held her )% "your ated with c marking the tutor, 1 his side, as struck )oth over ements of jestingly, ly in the i hreedies drink her lord com- lerulously. It you like le churlish have mo." mind, nor 'You may Y\r\^ some- he spurnecl a dog out of his way, overset a chair, aud strode cursing from the room. Lord Almeric stared after him, his face a queer mixture of vanity and dismay. At last, " Strikes me, Tommy, he's uncommon hard hit," he said, with a simper. " He must have made surprising sure of her. Ah ! " he continued with a chuckle, as he passed his hand delicately over his well-curled wig, and glanced at a narrow hlack-framed miiTor that stood between the windows. " He is a bit too old for the women, is Pom. They run to something lighter in hand. Besides, there's a— a way with the pretty creatures, if you take nu\ and Pom has not got it. Now I flatter myself I have, Tommy, and Jiiliu— it is a sweet name, Julia, don't you think ?— Julia is of that way of thinking. Lord I I know women," his lordship continued, beaming the happier the longer he talked. " It is not what a man has, or what he has done, or even his taste in a coat or a wig— though, mind you, a French friseur does a deal to help men to bonties forfunes~hnt it is a sort of a way one has. The silly creatures cannot stand against it." Mr. Thomasson hastened to agree, and to vouch her future ladyship's flame in proof of my lord's prowess. But the tutor was a timid, far-seeing man ; aud the more perfect the contentment with which he viewed the turn things had taken, a?id the more nearly within his grasp seemed his five thousand, the graver was the misgiving with which he regarded Mr. Pojjeroy's attitude. He had no notion what shape that gentleman's hostility might take, nor how far his truculence might aspire. But he guessed that Lord Almeric's victory had convinced the elder man that his task would have been easy had the cards favoured him ; and when a little later in the day he saw Pomeroy walking in the park in tiic urcnchmg rahi, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of bis wrap-rascal, and his chin bent on his breast, he C.I, y d I 258 THE CASTLE INN. trembled. He knew that when men of Mr. Pomeroy's class take to thinkinj?, some one is likely to lose. At dinner the tutor's fears were temporarily lulled. Mr. Pomeroy put in a sulky appearance, but his gloom, it was presently manifest, was due to the burden of an apology ; which, being lamely offered and readily accepted, he relapsed into his ordinaiy brusque i.nd reckless mood, swearing that they would have the lady down and drink her, or, if that were not pleasing, '* Banime, we'll drink her any way ! " he continued. " I was a toad this morning. No offence meant, my lord. Lover's license, you know. You can afford to be generous, having won the pool." "And the maid," my lord said, with a simper. "Burn me ! yon are a good fellow, Pom. Give nic your hand. You shall see her after dinner, She said to-morrow ; but. hang me ! I'll to her this evening." Mr. Pomeroy expressed himself properly gratified, adding demurely that he would i)lay no tricks. " No, hang me ! no tricks ! " my lord cried, somewhat alarmed. " Not that " "Not that I am likely to displace your lordship, her affections onco gained," said Mr. Pomeroy. He lowered his face to hide a smile of bitter derision, but he might have spared his pains ; for Lord Almeric, never very wise, was blinded by vanity. " No, I should think not," he said, with a conceit which came near to deserving the other's contempt. " 1 should think not, Tommy. Give me twenty minutes of a start, as Jack Wilkes says, and you may follow as you please. I rather fancy I brought down the bird at the first shot ? " " Certainly, my lord." " I did, didn't I ? " " Host certainly, your lordship did," repeated the obse- quious tutor ; who, basking in the smiles of his host 'a ly's class ed. Mr. n, it was apology ; relapsed ring that ', if that ay!" he 3e meant, ord to be " Bnrn dd. You )iit. hang ], adding lomewhat 5hip, her ision, but ric, never ink not," A'ing the Give nic you may lown the the obse- 118 llOfit'lc) BOON COMPANIONS. £59 good-humour, began to ti.ink that things ^ould run smoothly after all. So the lady nas toasted, and toasted again Nay 80 great w,i8 Mr. Po.neroy's complaisance, and so easy his mood^hc must needs have up three or four bottles of Brooks aa:/ Helhor that had lain in the cellar half a century-the last of a l.atch-and give her a third time in bumpci-s and no heel-taps. ^ But that opened Mr. Thr-masson's eyes. He saw that Poraeroy had reverted to his idea of the night before, and was bent on making the young fop drunk, and exposing him m that state to l.is mistress ; perhaps had the notion of pushing him on some rudeness that, unless she proved very compliant indeed, must r.iin him for ever with her Three was their dinner-hour ; it was not yet four, yet already the young lord was flushed and a little flustered, talked fast swore at Jarvey, and bragged (.f the girl lightly and with' out reserve. By six o'clock, if something were not done, he won Id be unmanageable. The tutor stood in no little awe of his host. He had tremors down his back when he thought of his violence • nor was this dogged persistence in a design, as cruel as it was c.inn,ng calculafcd to I.sscii the feeling. But he had hvo thousand pounds at stake, a fortune on which he had been pluming himself since noon ; it was no time for hesitation. They were dining in the hall at the table at which they had piayo.l card, the night before, Jarvey and Lord Almenc s servant attending them. Between the table and the staircase was a screen. The next time Lord Almencs glass was filled, the tutor, in reaching somethin-, upset the glass and its contents over his own breeches, nnd amid the laughter of the other tw„ retired behind the screen to bo wiped. There he slipped a crown into the servant's hand, and whispered him to keep his master sober and he snoiiKi have another. S Z 260 THE ^ASTLB INN. Mr. Pomeroy saw nothing and heard nothing, and for a time suspected iv Uung. The -rvaut was a crafty fellow, a London meal, dctl ut whippiu;^ away full bottles. Ho was an age finding a clean glass, and slow in drawing the next cork He filled the host's bumper, and Mr. Ihomasso.iH, and had but hull a glass for his manner. The next bottle he impudently pronounced corked, and when Pomeroy cursed him for a liar, brought him some in an unwashed glass that had been used for Bordeaux The wine was condemned, and went out ; and though Pomeroy. ^v.th unflag-ing spirits, roared to Jarv-y to open the other bottles^ the butler had got the ofhce. and vas slow to bring them. The cheese came and went, and left Lord Alnieno cooler than it found him. The tutor w^ overjoyed at the success of his tactics. But when the board wtvs cleared, and the oottles were set on, and the men withdrawn, Bully Pomeroy b- gan to push what remained of the Brooks and llellicr after a fashion that boded an early defeat to the tutor's precautions. It was in vain Thomasson clang to the bottle and sometimes returned it Hertfordshire fiisbion. The only result waa that Mr. Pomeroy s.nelt a rat, gave Lord Almeric a back-hander, and sent the bottle on a^ain. with a gnn that told the tutor he was undei"stood. -w „ After that Uv Thomasson had the choice between sitting still and taking his own part. It was neck or nothing Lord Almeric was already hiccoughing and would soon be talking thickly. The next time the bottle came round, the utor retained it, and when Lord Almeric reached for it, ^o, my lord," he said, laughing ; " Venus first a.id Bacchus afterwards. Your lordship has to wait on the lady When you come down, with Mr. Pomeroy's leave, well crack another bottle." ,u^ ^^Uc.^ My lord withdrew his hand more readily than the other If i- BOON COMPANIONS. 261 J," he paid. " I'll wait till I had hoped. "Right, T ■omodown. What's. song, ' Eich the troasn re, sweet the pk-asure, sweet i pleasure after pjiin ' ? Oh, no, daniTnel I don't mean that," he continiud. '• Xo. How does it go ? " Mr. Pomoroy tlirnst the bottle into his hrinds, lookincr daggers the while at the tiito "Take another glass," he cried boisterously. " 'Swounds, the girl will like you the better for it." " T)'ye think so, Pom ^ Honest ? " " Sure of i>. i| give you spirit, my lord." " So it will." " At her and k ner ! Are you going to be governed all your life by that whey-faced old Methodist ? Or be your own man ? Tell me that." "My lord, there's fifty thousand pounds upon it," Thomasson said, his face red. And he pushed back the bottle. The setting sun, peeping a moment through the ram clouds and the low-browed lattice windows, fluncr an angry yellow light on the board and the three Hushed faces rouLd it. "Fifty thousand pounds," repeated Mr. Tho nasson firmly. " Damme I so there is ! " my lord answered, settling his chm m his cravat and dusting the crumbs from his breeches. " I'll take no more. So there 1 " "I thought your lordship was a good-humoured man and no flincher," Mr. Pomeroy retorted with a sneer. "Oh, I vow and protest-if you put it that way," the weakling answered, once more extending his hand, the fingers of which closed lovingly round the bottle, " I cannot retuse. Positively I cannot." Bho'ufdere '^^"'^""^ ^"''^' • " ^^^ ^"^0^ ^a''^' shrugging his Lord Ahneric drew back his hand. MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 m 1^ 2.8 3.2 II 3.6 114.0 1.4 2.5 2.2 1.6 ^ /APPLIED IM/1GE Inc 1653 East Main Street Roctiesler, New York 14609 (716) 482 -0300 - Phone (716) 288 - 59S9 - Fox USA ill 262 THE CASTLE INN. «Why, she'll like you the better 1" ^omeroy cried n^^^^^^^^ as he tLst the bottle ^o hm. a^-. D y^^^^^^^^^^ woman doesn't love an easy husband ? And Nvouia have a good fellow than a thread-paper ." 'nrPomeroy! Mr. Pomeroy !" the tutor said. Such vrords used of a lord shocked him. - A milksop I A ihing- of curd, and whey . • „c, " fiip Hifor muttered, pitcumg "After marriage, yes, the tutor mui. , ^-.r,^^^ W» voico Cevoriy in Lovd f-'" ;i;t"t "' ': ir iX aU'To' abst": oC night_iy, suve, SrCitl : Lu thing to do for a tine woman and a ■"' h:^« ntc ! so it is t" I,..rd Almeric -7™^- J J™ „. . ,oo^d friend to n., iW A;;^ ej™.^;^/;;: crashing into tlie brep ace. M 1 om , yo own head in a glass. Yon don't bite me. ^ Pomerov with a face lilte thunder, did not answer , ana li Zed: walking a little nn,teadi,y, -nt '0 the do r md a moment later became visible through one of the «in ts HTstood awhile, his back towards them, now smih g tteevening air, and now, with due regard to hrs mued sdk "^1i;i:stf h": iXt beating, wished he had i.ad tl« co^age to go Jith him. But this would have been Clwith hi host beyond mendings and it w^ now » to He was still seeking a propitiatory phi-ase with wh oh to break the oppressive silence, when Pomeroy ant.cpated him. « You think yourself vastly clever, Mr. Tutor," he growled, mi ^ m 'I BOON COMPANIONS. 268 his voice hoarse with anger. " You think a bird in the liand is worth two in the bush, I see.'* " Ten in the bush," Mr. Thomasson answered, aiTectiofj an easiness he did not feel. " Ten fives are fifty." " Two in the bush, I said, and two in the bush, I mean," the other retorted, his voice still low. " Take it or leave it," he continued, with a muttered oath and a swift side glance at the windows, through which Lord Almeric was still visible, walking slowly to and fro, and often standing. •' If you want it firm, I'll put it in black and white. Ten thousand, or security, the day after we come from church." The tutor was silent a moment. Then, " It is too far in the bush," he answered in a low voice. " I am willin? enough to serve you. Mr. Pomeroy. I assure yuu, my dear sir, I desire nothing better. But if— if his lordship were dismissed, you'd be as far off as ever. And I should lose my bird in hand." " She took him. Why should she not take me ? " " He has — no offence— a title, Mr. Pomeroy." " And is a fool." Mr. Thomasson raised his hands in deprecation. Such a saying, spoken of a lord, really oflended him. But his words went to another point. " Besides, it's a marriage- broeage contract, and void," he muttered. "Void in law." " You don't trust me ? " '• 'Twould be of no use, Mr. Pomeroy," the tutor answered, gently shaking his head, and avoiding the issue presented to him. "You could not persuade her. Khe was in ouch a humour to-day, my lord had special advantages. Break it off between them, and she'll come to herself. And she is wilful— Lord ! you don't know her ! Petruchio could not tame her." "I know nothing about Petruchio," Mr. Pomeroy i 1.'' i : A ,. k jut 2Q4, THE CASTLE INN. Uli\i answered grimly. "Nor ^vho the genteman was. I've ways of my own. You can leave that to me. But Mr. Thomasson, who had only parleyed out of com- pliance, took fright at that, and rose from the table, shakmg his head. . « You won't do it ? " Mr. Pomeioy said. The tutor shook his head again, with a 8ickly smile. « 'Tis too far in the bush," he said. " Ten thousand," Mr. Pomeroy persisted, his eyes on the other's face. "Man," he continued forcibly, " Do you think YOU will ever have such a chance agam ? len thousand : my, 'tis eight hundred a year. 'Tis a gentle- man's fortune. mi v, ♦■ For a moment Mr. Thomasson did waver. Then he put the temptation from him, and shook his head. "You must pardon me, Mr. Pomeroy," he said. "I cannot do it "Will nit! "Pomeroy cried harshly. "Will not I" And would have said more, but at that moment Jarvey entered behind him. , •. j n "Please, your honour," the man said, "the lady would see my lord." , . . « Oh ' " Pomeroy answered coarsely, " she is impatient, is she? Devil take her for me ! And him too!" And he sat sulkily in his place. But the interruption suited Mr. ^^ .asson perfectly. He went to the outer door, and, openin:' it, called Lord Almeric, who, hearing what was afoot, hurried m. " Sent for me ! " he cried, pressing his hat to his breast. "Dear creature ! " and he kissed his fingers to the gallery. "Positively she is the daintiest, sweetest morsel ever wore a petticoat 1 I vow and protest I am in love with her I It were brutal not to be, and she so fond 1 I'll to her at once ! _ ,. . T 1- • 1 -^"" ir>v " dos^ ^f hfirfifaniot. and 1 am Teli iier I ny ; x ataj lor « u^s -— „ with her ! " BOON COMPANIONS. 265 B. Bab of corn- shaking y smile. 3 on the Do you ? Ten a gentle- " I thought tliat you were going to take u? with you," said Mr. Pomeroy, watching him sourly. " I will ! Ton honour, I will I " replied the delighted beau. " But she will soon find a way to dismiss you, the cunning baggage ! and then, ' Sweet is pleasure after pain.' Ha ! Ha ! I have it aright this time. Sweet is Plea oh 1 the dot'ng rascal ! But let us to her ! I vow, if sha is not civil to you, I'll— I'll be cold to her ! " f 1 he put iTou must ► it." il" And y entered ,dy would impatient, ' And he perfecHy. illed Lord his breast, he gallery, ver wore a 1 her ! It ler at once ! , and I am rt ii CHAPTER XXYII. MR. FISHWICK'S discovery. We left Sir George Soane and his companions stranded in the little alehouse at Bathford, waiting through the smal honrs of the night for a conveyance to carry them forward to Bristol. Soap and water, a good meal, and a brief dog s sleep, in which Soane had no share-he spent the night walking up and down-and from which Mr. Fishwick was continually starting with cries and meanings, did something to put them in better plight, if in no better temper >\ hen the dawn came, and with it the chaise-and-four for which thev had sent to Bath, they issued forth haggard and unshaven, but resolute ; and long before the shops in Bristol had begun to look for custom, the three, with Sir George s servant? descended before the old Bush Inn, near the The attorney held strongly the opinion that they should not waste a second before seeking the persons whom Mr Dunborough had employed ; the least delay, he urged, and the men might be gone into hiding. But on this a wjangle took place, in the empty street before the half-roused mn ; with a milk-girl and a couple of drunken sailors for witnesses Mr. Dunborough, who was of the party will-he, nill-he, and asked nothing better than to take out in churlishness the pressure put upon him, stood firmly to it, he would take no more than one person to the men. He wouia laiiu bu George, if he pleased, but he would take no one eise. m MR. FISHWICK S DISCOVERY. 267 mded in he Bmall forwarii ief dog's be nighfc svick was Dinething •, When ■or which »ard and in Bristol ' George's near the ey should vhom Mr. irged, and a wrangle used inn ; ' witnesses, lill-he, and shness the Id take no i take Sir ^Ise. " I'll have no lawyer to make evidence ! " he cried boast- ftilly. " And I'll take no one but on terms. I'll have no Jemmy Twitcher with me. That's flat." Mr. Fishwick in a great rage was for insisting ; but Sir George stopped him. " On what terms ? " he asked the other' " If the girl be unharmed, we go unb- ned. One and all ! " Mr. Dunborough answered. " Damme ! " he continued with a great show of bravado, " do you think I am going to peach on 'em ? Not I. There's the ofi'er, take it or leave it." Sir George might have broken down his opposition by the same argumeutH addressed to his safety which had brought him so far. But time was everything, and Soane was on fire to knovv the l/est or worst, " Agreed ! " he cried. " Lead the way, sir ! And do you, Mr. Fishwick, await me here." *'We must have time," Mr. Dunborough grumbled, hesitating, and looking askance at the attorney — he hated liim. " I can't answer for an hour or two. I know a place, and I know another place, and there is another place. And they may be at one or another, or the other. D'you see ? " " I see that it is your business," Sir George answered with a glance, before which the other's eyes fell. "Wait unlii noon, Mr, Fishwick. If we have not returned at that houi', be good enough to swear an information against this gentle- man, and set the constables to work." Mr. Dunborough muttered that it lay on Sir George's head if ill came of it ; but that said, swung sidkily on his heel. Mr. Fishwick, when the two were some way down the street, ran after Soane, and asked in a whisper if his pistols were primed ; when he returned satisfied on that point, the servant, whom he had left at the door of the inn, had vanished. The lawyer made a shrewd guess that he would have an eye to his master^s safety, and retired into the house with less misgiving. 268 THE OASTLE INN. He got hia breakfast early, and afterwards dozed awhile, resting his aching bones in a corner of the coffee-room. It was nine and after, and the tide of life was roaring through the channels of the city when he roused himself, and to divert his suspense and fend off his growing stiffness went out to look about him. All was new to him, but he soon wearied of the main streets, where huge drays laden with puncheons of rum and bales of tobacco threatened to crush him and tarry seamen, their whiskers hauging in ringlets, jostled him at every crossing. Turning aside into a quiet court he stood to stare at a humble wedding which was leaving a church. He watched the party out of sight, and then, the church-door standing open, he took the fancy to stroll into the building. He looked about him at the maze of dusty green-cushioned pews with little alleys winding hither and thither among them ; at the great three-decker with its huge sounding-board ; at the royal escutcheon, and the faded tables of the law, and was about to leave as aimlessly as he had entered, when he espied the open vestry door. Popping in his head, his eye fell on a folio bound in sheepskin, that lay open on a chest, a pen and ink beside it. „ . c v. 3 a The attorney was 'n that state of fatigue of body and languor of mind in which the least trifle amuses. He tip- toed in, his hat in his hand, and licking his lips as he thought of the law-cases that lay enshrined between those covers, he perused a couple of entries with a kind of pro- fessional enthusiasm. He was beginning a third, which, bein'^ by a different hand, was a little hard to decipher, when a black gown that hung on a hook over against him swung noiselessly outward from the wall, and a little old man emerged from the doorway which it masked.^ The lawyer, who was stooping over the register, raised himself guiltily. " Hallo ! " he said, to cover his confusion. MR. FI8HWICK 8 DISCOVERY. 269 awhile, lom. It through and to ess went he soon ien with to crush ringlets, a quiet hich was ight, and fancy to the maze winding 'ee-decker heon, and leave aa the open »n a folio n and ink body and He tip- lips as he ,reen those id of pro- rd, which, 1 decipher, jainst him i little old confusion. was " Hallo ! " the old man answered with a wintry smile, shilling, if you please." And he held out his hand. '* Oh ! " said Mr. Fishwick, much chap-fallen, " I only just — looking out of curiosity." " It is a shilling to look," the new-comer retorted with a chuckle. " Only one year, I think ? Just so, anno domiiii seventeen hundred and sixty-seveu. A shilling, if you please." Mr. Fishwick hesitated, but in the end professional pride swayed him, he drew out the coin, and grudgingly handed it over. "Well," he said, "it is a shilling for nothing. But, I suppose, as you have caught me, I must pay." " I've caught a many that way," the old fellow answered as he pouched the shilling. " But there, I do a lot of work upon them. There is not a better register kept anywhere than that, nor a parish clerk that knows more about his register than I do, though I say it that sliould not. It is clear and clean from old Henry Eighth, with never a break except at the time of the siege, and, by the way, there is an entry about that that you could see for another shilling. No ? "Well, if you would like to see a year for nothing No ? Now, I know a lad, an attorney's clerk here, name of Chatterton, would give his ears for the off'er. Perhaps your name is Smith ? " the old fellow continued, looking curiously at Mr. Fishwick. " If it is, you may like to know that the name of Smith is in the register of hv ''^Is just three hundred and eighty-three times — was last ri day ! Oh, it is not Smith ? Well, if it is Brown, it is there two hundred and seventy times — and one over ! " "That is an odd thought of yours," said the lawyer, staring at the conceit. " So many have said," the old man chuckled. " But it is \VT5 ? .Tonps r#rhsi-!s ? That comes two hundred W-'\ aud- ones, perhsps ? Oh, it is not Jones ? ' : n ihl '(I I m pi ■ ^ 270 THE CASTLE INN. " It is a name you won't be likely to have onoe, let alone four hundred times ! " the lawyer answered, with a little pride— heaven knows why. "What may it bo, then ? " the clerk asked, fairly put on his mettle. And he drew out a pair of slasses, and Fettling them on his forehead looked fixedly at his companion. " Fishwick." " Fishwick ! Fishwick ? Well, it is not a common name, and I cannot speak to it at this moment. But if it is here, I'll wa^cr I'll tiud it for you. D'ycu see, I have them here in alphabet order," ho continued, bustlincr with an important air to a cupboaid in the wall, whence he produced a thick folio bound in rou.cjhenod calf. "Ay, here's Fishwick, in the burial book, do you see, volume two, pas^e seventeen, anno domini 1750, seventeen years gone, that is. Will you see it ? 'Twill be only a shilling. There's many pays out of curiosity to sec their names." Mr. Fishwick shook his head. " Dods ! man, you shall ! " the old clerk cried gcnorously ; and turned the pnges. " You shall see it for wiiat you have paid. Here you are. 'Fourteenth of September, William Fishwick, aged eighty-one, harher, West Quwi, died the eleventh of tfie, month: No, man, you are looking too low. Higher on the page ! Here 'tis, do you see ? Eh-what is it ? What's the matter with you ? " "Nothing," Mr. Fi?hwick muttered. But he continued to stare at the page with a face struck suddenly sallow, while the hand that rested on the corner of the book shook as with the ague. " Nothing ? " the old man said, staring suspiciously at him. " I do believe it is something. I do believe it ii money Well, it is five shillings to extract. So there !" q-'^f^t Rpomed to change Mr. be money," he confessed, still speaking Fishwick's view thickly It might and as if his MR. FISHWICK's discovery. 271 tono^ne were too large for his mouth. " It might be," ho repeated. "But— I am not very well this morning. Do you think you could get me a glass of water ? " "None of that!" the old man retorted sharply, with a sudden look of alarm. " I would not leave you alone with that book at this moment for ;.ll the shillings I have taken ! So if you want water, you've got to get it." " I am better now," Mr. Fishwick answered. But the sweat that stood on his brow went far to belie his words. " I— yes, I think I'll take an extract. Sixty-one, was he ? " " Eighty-one, eighty-one, it says. There's pen and ink, but you'll please to give me five shillings before you write. Thank you kindly. Lord save ua, but that is not the one. You're taking out tlio one above it." "I'll have 'em all— for identification," Mr. Fishwick replied, wiping his forehead nervously. " She ! You have no need." " I think I will." "What, all?" " Well, the one before and the one after." "Dods! man, but that will be fifteen shillings!" the clerk cried, aghast at such extravagance. " Y(;u'll only charge for the entry I want .' " the lawyer said with an effort. " Well— we'll say five shilUngs for the other two." Mr. Fishwick closed with the offer, and with a hand which was still unsteady paid the money and extracted the entries. Then he took his hat, and hurriedly, his eyes averted, turned to go. " If it's money," the old clerk said, staring at him as if he could never satisfy his inquisitiveness, " you'll not foi'get me?" " If it's money," Mr. Fishwick said with a ghastly smile, " it shall be some in your pocket." i t.r* 272 THE CASTLE INN. Now who you were " Thank you kindly. Thank you kindly, sir ! would luv' thought when you stepped in here stepping into fortune, so to speak ? " "Just 80," Mr. Fiahwick answered, a spasm distorting his face. " Who'd have thought it ? Good morning ! " " And good-luck ! " the clerk bawled after him. ^- make some :ew motherly, more than I :o her. The it taught the 8 people— she •e are French he had no kin born, and she g, as he had ; and when she glued to the IS bringing the :h her. 'Twas* got its death ,w. It is true 1 J. " lean ? " good-tempered on't know that, him better, and hire way. But n foreign parts, ad my husband, J or two— more's hehad with him ,8 man in such a >t his, but one he ■1 had adopted to serve a gentleman in trouble ; and because his wife had none. Any way, it was buried along with my lodger, and nothing would serve but he must adopt the child she had left. It seemed ordained-like, they being of an age, and all. And I had two children to care for, and was looking for another that never came ; and the mother had left no more than buried her with a little help. So he took it with him, and we heard from him once or twice, how it fared, and that his wife took to it, and the like ; and then —well, writing's a burden. But," with renewed interest, " she's a well-grown girl by now, I guess ? " "Yec," the attorney answered absently, "she — she's a well-grown girl." " And is poor Jim's wife alive ? " " Yes." " Ah," the good -oman answered, looking thoughtfully into the street. "±c dhe were not — I'd think about taking to the girl myself. It's lonely at times without chick or child. And there's the shop to tend. She could help with that." The attorney winced. He was looking ill ; wretchedly ill. But he had his back to the light, and she remarked notliing save that he seemed to be a sombre sort of body and poor company. " What was the Frenchman's name ? " he asked after a pause. '* Parry," said she. And then, sharply, " Don't they call her by it ? " " It has an English sound," he said doubtfully, evading her question. " That is the way he called it. But it was spelled Pare, just Pare." "Ah," said Mr. Fishwick. " That explains it." He wondered jniserably w)iy he had asked what did not in the *ca3t matter ; since, if she were not a Soane, it mattered not 276 THE CASTLE INN. !i "hi ^vho Bhe w£.s. After an interval he recovered himsell with asiVh. "Well, thank you," he continued, M am mucli obliged to you. And now-for the moment-good-niorniug, ma'am. 1 must wish you good-morning," he repeated, hurriedly ; and took up his snuff. " But that is not all ? " the good woman exclaimed m astonishment. " At any rate you'll leave your name ." ^ Mr Fishwick pursed up his lips and stared at her gloomu) . " Name ? " he said at last. " Yes, ma'am, certanily. Brown. Mr. Peter Brown, the— the Poultry " " The Poultry 1 " she cried, gaping at him helplessly. "Yes, the Poultry, London. Mr. Peter Brown, the Poultry, London. And now I have other busmess and shall-shall return another day. I must wish you good- morning, ma'am. Good-morning." And thrusting his fa^ into his hat, Mr. Fishwick bundled precipitately into the street, and with singular recklessness made haste to plunge into the thickest of the traffic, leaving the good woman in a state of amazement. Nevertheless, he reached the inn safely. When Mr. Dunborough returned from a futile search, his failure m which condemned him to another twenty-four hours m that company, the firbt thing he saw was the attorney's gloomy face awaiting them in a dark corner of the coffee-room. The sight reproached him subtly, he knew not why ; he was in the worst of tempers, and, for want of a better outlet, he vented his spleen on the lawyer's head. u D n you ! " he cried brutally. " Your hang-dog phiz is enough to spoil any sport ! Hang me if I believe that there is such another mumping, whining, whimpering sneak in the 'varsal world ! D'yoa think any one will have luck with your tallow face within a mile of him ? ihen Ijiigiug, but not daring, to turn his wrath on Sir George, *' What do you bring him for t he cried.. iseir with [im much ■morning, repeated, lainicd in nc ? " • gloomily. {. Brown. essly. •town, the siness and you good- ng his face ly into the I to plunge voman in a When Mr. failure in mrs in that ey's gloomy 3oifee-room. hy ; he was iv outlet, he ing-dog phiz believe that )ering sneak ill have luck 1 ? " Then Sir George, MR. FISHWICK'S discovery. 277 *'; iJi- my convenience," Sir George retorted, with a look of contempt that for the time silenced the other. And that said, Soane proceeded to explain to Mr. Fishwick, who had answered not a word, that the rogues had got into hiding ; but that by means of persona known to Mr. Dunborough it was hoped that they would be heard from that evening or the next. Then, struck by the attorney's sickly face, " I am afraid you are not well, Mr. Fishwick," Sir George continued more kindly. "The night has been too much for you' I would advise you to lie down for a few hours and take some rest. If anything is heard I will send word to you." Mr. Fishwick thanked him, without meeting his eyes ; and after a minute or two retired. Sir George looked after him, and pondered a little on the change in his manner. Through the stress of the night Mr. Fishwick had shown himself alert and eager, ready and not lacking in spirit ; now he had depression written large on his face, and walked and bore himself like a man sinking under a load of despondency. All that day the messenger from the slums was expected but did not come ; and between the two men, who sat downstairs, strange relations prevailed. Sir George did not venture to let the other out of his sight ; yet tliere were times when they came to the verge of blows, and nothing but the knowledge of Sir George's swordsmanship kept Mr. Dunborough's temper within bounds. At dinner, at which Sir George insisted that the attorney should sit down with them, Dunborough drank his two bottles of wine, and in his cups fell into a train peculiarly provoking. "Lord! you make me sick," he said. "All this pother about a girl that a month ago your high mightiness would not have looked at in the street. You are vastly virtuous now, and sneer at me ; but, damme ! which of us loves the IH 878 THE CASTLE INN. pH best ? Take away her money and wffl you marry her ? I'll -a done it, without a rag to her tack But take away It monev and will yon do the same, Mr. Virtuous ? srwiBtening darkly, and putting a great restramt on hUelf, d d not answer. Mr. Fishwick wa.ted a momenl, « up suddenly, and hnrried from the room-w.th a lovelent l abrupt that he left his wine-glass m iragments on the floor. CHAPTER XXVIII. A ROUGH AWAKENING. Lord Almeric continued to vapour and romance as he mounted the stairs, Mr. Pomeroy attended, sneering, at his heels. The tutor followed, and longed to separate them. He had his fears for the one and of the other, and was relieved when his lordship at the last moment hung back, and with a foolish chuckle proposed a plan that did more honour to liis vanity than his taste. " Hist ! " he whispered " Do you two stop outside a mmute, and you'll hear how kind she'll be to me ! I'll leave the door ajar, and then in a minute do you come in and roast her ! Lord, 'twill be as good as a play ! " Mr. Pomeroy shrugged his shoulders. " As you please," he growled. " But I have known a man go to shear and be shorn ! " Lord Almeric smiled loftily, and waiting for no more, winked to them, turned the handle of the door, and simpered in. Had Mr. Thomasson entered with him, the tutor would have seen at a glance that he had wasted his fears ; and that whatever trouble threatened brooded m a diiferent quarter- The girl, her face a blaze of excitement and shame and eagerness, stood in the recess of the farther window seat, as far from the door as she could go ; her attitude the attitude of one driven into a corner. And from that alone her lover should have taken warning. But Lord I «i t. ) 't I 280 THE CASTLE INN. Alraeric Si. "v notliing, feared notliinp:. Crying " Most lovely Julia!" Ik tripped forward to embrace her, and, the wine emboldening him, was r.bout to clasp her in his arms, when she checked him by a gesture unmistakable even by a man in his flustered state. « My lord," she said hurriedly, yet in a tone of pleading —and her head hung a little, and her cheeks began to flame. "I ask your forgiveness for having sent for you. Alas, I have also to ask your forgiveness for a more serious fault. One— one which you may And it less easy to pardon," she added, her courage failing. " Try me ! " the little beau answered with ardour ; and he struck an attitude. "What would I not forgive to the lovehest of her sex ? " And under cover of his words he made a second attempt to come within reach of her. She waved him back. " No ! " she said. "You do not understand me." "Understand?" he cried effusively. "I understand enough to— but why, my Chloe, these alarms, this bashful- ness ? Sure," he spouted, " How can I see yon, and not love, While yon as Opcninj? East are fair ? While coid as Northern Blasts yon prove, How can I love and not despair ? " And tlien, in wonder at his own readiness, " S'help me I that's uncommon clever of me," he said. " But when a man is in love with the most beautiful of her sex " "My lord!" she cried, stamping the floor in her impatience. "I have something serious to say to you. Must I ask you to return to me at another time ? Or will you be good enough to listen to me now ? " uau^ JP -nn njqb it •'•^il'l " h^ said ho-htlv. takinjl out his snuff-box. " And to be sure there is time enough. But between us two, sweet ' A ROUGH AWAKENING. 281 " Tlierc is nothing between ns ! " she cried, impetuously snatching at the word. *' That is what I wanted to tell you. I made a mistake when I said that there should be. I'was mad ; I was wicked, if you like. Do you hear me, my lord ? " she continued passionately. " It was a mistake. I did not know what I was doing. And, now I do under- stand, I take it back." Lord Alraeric gasped. He heard the words, but the meaning seemed incredible, inconceivable ; the misfortune, i'" he heard aright, was too terrible ; the humiliation too overwhelming ! He had brought listeners— and for this I " Understand ? " he cried, looking at her in a confused, chap-fallen way. " Hang me if 'l do understand I You don't mean to say Oh, it is impossible, stufiF me ! it is. You don't mean that— that you'll not have me ? After all that has come and gone, ma'am ? " She shook her head ; pitying him, blaming herself, for the plight in which she had placed him. " I sent for you, my lord," she said humbly, " that I might tell you at once. I could not rest until I had told you. I did what I could. And, believe me, I am very, very sorry." " But do you mean —that you— you jilt ^ ; ? " he cried, still fighting off the dreadful truth. "Not jilt ! " she said, shivering. " That you won't have me ? " She nodded. " After— after saying you would ? " he wailed. " I cannot," she answered. Then, " Cannot you under- stand ? " she cried, her face scarlet. " I did not know until— until you went to kiss me." ** But— oh, I say— but ycu love me ? " he protested. "No, my lord," she said firmly. "No. And there, you must do me the justice to acknowledge that I never said I d-d." Iti" I; ■ V- j ij 282 THE CASTLE INN. ij ^^^^^^Lu a H^Hk i ^^M^ i i ! 3 * 1 ' I . } ^■1 ' • i • [| '\ He dashed his hat on the floor : he was almost weeping. "OK damme!" he cried, "a woman should not-should not treat a man like this. It's low. It's cruel ! It's- " A knock on the door stopped him. Recollection ot the listeners, whom he had momentarily forgotten, revived, .^nd overwhelmed him. With an oath he sprang to shut the door, but before he could intervene Mr. Pomeroy appeared smiling on the threshold ; and behind him the reluctant tutor. Lord Almeric swore, and Julia, affronted by the presence of strangers at such a time, drew back, frowning. But Bully Pomeroy would see i othmg. '' A thousand pardons if I intrude," lie said, bowing this way and that, that he might hide a lurking gnn. " But his lordship was good enough to say a while ago, that he would present us to the lady who had consented to make him happy. We little thought last night, ma'am, that so much beauty and so much goodness were reserved for one of us." Lord Almeric looked ready to cry. Julia, darkly red, was certain that they had overheard ; she stood glarmg at the intruders, her foot tapping the floor. No one answered, and Mr. Pomeroy, after looking from one to the other in assumed surprise, pretended to hit on the reason. "Oh, 1 see • 1 spoil 'sport ! " he cried with coarse joviality. "Curse me if 1 meant to ! 1 fear we have come mal a pro]^os, my lord, and the sooner we are gone the better. " ' And though she found his usage rough, Yet in a man 'twas well enough ! '" he hummed, with his head on one side and an impudent leer. " We are interrupting the turtledoves, Mr. Thoraasson, and had better be gone." » Curse you ! Why did you ever come ? " my lord cried A ROUGH AWAKENING 283 furiously. " But she won't have me. So there ! Now you know." Mr. Pomeroy struck an .attitude of astonishment. " Won't have you ? " he cried, " Oh, stap me ! you are biting us." " I'm not ! And you know -t ! " tlie poor little blood answered, tears of vexation in his eyes. " You Know It, and you are roasting me ! " " Know it ? " Mr. Pomeroy answered in tones of righteous indignation. '* I know it ? So far from knowing it, my dear lord, I cannot believe it ! I understood that the .ady had given you her word." "So she did." "Then I cannot believe that a lady would anywhere, much less under my roof, take it back. Madam, there must be some mistake iiere," Mr. Pomeroy continued warmly. "It is intolerable that a man of his lordship's rank should be so treated. I'm forsworn if he has not mistaken you." " He does not mistake me now," she answered, trembling and blushing painfully. "What error there was I have explained to him." " But, damme " " Sir ! " she said with awakening spirit, her eyes sparkling. "What has happened is between his lordship and myself. Interference on the part of any one else is an intrusion, and I shall treat it as such. His lordship understood " " Curse me ! He does not look as if he understood," Mr. Pomeroy cried, allowing his native coarseness to peep through. " Sink me, ma'am, there is a limit to prudishness. Fine words butter no parsnips. You plighted your troth to my guest, and I'll not see him thrown over 1' this fashion. Th aces are oui; oi piacc. i suppose a man. has some rights under his own roof, and when his guest is i^ii |:i ! 284 THE CASTLE INN, jilted before his eyes" — here Mr. Pomeroy frowned like Jove — " it is well you should know, ma'am, that a woman no more than a man can play fast and loose at pleasure." She looked at hira with disdain. "Then the sooner I leave your roof the better, sir," she said. "Not so fivst there, either," he answered with an unpleasant smile. " You came to it when you chose, and you will leave it when we choose ; and that is flat, my girl. This morning, when my lord did you the honour to ask you, you gave him your word. Perhaps to-morrow morning you'll be of the same mind again. Any way, you will wait until to-morrow and see." " I shall not wait on your pleasure,'' she cried, stung to rage. '* You will wait on it, ma'am ! Or 'twill be the worse for you." Burning with indignation she turned to the other two, her breath coming quick. But Ih: Thomasson gazed gloomily at the floor, and would not meet her eyes ; and Lord Almeric, who had thrown himself into a chair, was glowering sulkily at his shoes. " Do you mean," she cried, " that you will dare to detain me, sir ? " "If you put it so," Pomeroy answered, grinning, "1 think I dare take it on myself." His voice full of mockery, his insolent eyes, stung her to the quick. " I will see if that be so," she cried, fearlessly advancing on him. " Lay a fi;iger on me if you dare ! I am going out. Make way, sir." " You are not going out ! " he cried between his teeth. And held his ground in front of her. She advanced until she was within touch of him, then her courage failed her ; they stood a second or two gazing at one another, the girl with heaving breast and cheeks burning with indignation, the man with cynical watchful- A ROUGH AWAKENING. 286 ness. Suddenly, shrinking from actual contact with him, she sprang aside, and was at the door before he could intercept her. But with a rapid movement he turned on his heel, seized her round the waist before she could open the door, dragged her shrieking from it, and with an oath— and not without an effort— flung her panting and breathless into the window-seat. " There ! " he cried fei-ociously, his blood fired by the strugirle ; " lie there ! Au.l behave your- self, my lady, or I'll find means to quiet you. For you," he continued, turning fiercely on the tutor, whose face the sudden scuffle and the girl's screams had blanched to the hue of paper, " did you never hear a wonuiu squeak before ? And you, my lord ? Arc you so dainty ? But, to be sure, 'tis your lordship's mistress," he continued ironically. "Your pardon. I forgot that. I should not have handled her so roughly. However, she is none the worse, and 'twill bring her to reason." But the struggle and the girl's cries had shaken my lord's nerves. " D n you ! " he cried hysterically, and with a stamp of the foot, "you should not have done that." " Pooh, pooh," Mr. Pomeroy answered lightly. " Do you leave it to me, my lord. She does not know her own mind. 'Twill help her to find it. And now, if you'll take my advice, you'll leave her to a night's reflection." But Lord Almcric only repeated, " You should not have done that." Mr. Pomeroy's face showed his scorn for the man whom a cry or two and a struggling woman had frightened. Yet he affected to see art in it. " I understand. And it is the rigut line to take," he said ; and he laugiied unpleasantly. "No doubt it will be put to your lordship's credit. But now, my lord," he continued, "let us go. You will see she will have come to her senses by to-morrow." Ihe girl had remained passive since her defeat. But at .1; m 286 THE CASTl.R INN. ^ n i ^'4 • '( * I In iihe rim from the window-seat where she had crouched, slayin.? fchcm witli furious ^'lances. "My lord," she cried passionately. " if you are a man, if you arc a gentleman- you'll not Buffer thiH." But I.^n-d Almcrie, who had recovered from his temporary p mic, m^ was aa anj^ry with her as with Pomeroy, ahrugfjed his shouklciH. -Oh, I don't know," he said resentfully. " Ic has nan^ht to do with me, ma'am. I don't want you kept, but you have behaved uncommon low to me ; uncommon low. And 'twill do you good to think on it Stap me, it will ! " And he turned on his heel and sneaked out. Mr. Pomeroy laughed insolently. " There is st^l) Tommy," he said. " Try him. Sec what he'll say to you. It amuses mc to hear you plead, my dear ; you put so much spirit into it. Ah my lord said, before we came in, 'tis as good as a i)lay." _ She flung him a look of scorn, but did not answer, lor Mr. Thomasson, he ahuftted his feet uncomfortably. "There are no horses," he faltered, cursing his indiscreet companion. '' Mr. Pomeroy means well, I know. And as there are no horses, even if nothing prevented you, you could not go to-night, you seo." Mr. Pomeroy burst into a shout of laughter md clapped the stammering tutor (fallen miserably between two stools) on the back. "There's a champion for you!" he cried. *' Beauty in distress ! Lord ! how it fires- his blood and turns his look to flame ! What ! going. Tommy ? " he continued, as Mr. Thomasson, unable to bear his raillery or the girl's fiery scorn, turned n^.d fled ignobly. "Well, my pretty d(^ar, I see we are to be- loft alone. -And, dammo ! quite' right too, for we arc tlie only man una the only woman of the party, and should come to an under- standing." Iff' • I ill \ih A ROUGH . V.KENING. 287 Julia 'ooked at him with Hhuddovinir abhorrence They were aloue ; the Bound of the tutor's retreating foofcetepa was f/rnvving fainl, 8iie pointed to the door. " If you do not go,' aho cried, her voice shaking with m{^Q, 'M will rouse the house ! I will cull your ]vople I Dm you hear me? I will so cry to your servants that you shall not for slmmc dare to keep niu ! I will break this window and cry for help ? " "And what do you think I should bo doing meanwhile v" ho retorted with an u-ly luer. '* I thought I had show.i you that two could play at that game. Rut there, child, I hko your spirit ! I love you for it ! You are a girl after my own heart, and, > last. " Is it a bargain ? And see here. His lordship has gone jh better, and from here." y. cried with a ?et her here." are no wiser, d the woman ihing before, d to see the ng very deep. " No part in iswered with down again. ler to escape, tell her that •. You'll bid and have a e chaise will be house. I ay," he said, as he filled h a pistol if lymph ; and ou'U be free s eyes moist. ^lip has gone MR. POMEROY's plan. 293 silly on the girl. You can tell him before he leaves what you are going to do. He'll leave easy, and you'll have an evidence —of your good intentions I " Mr. Pomeroy added with a chuckle. " Is it a bargain ? " " I'll not do it ! " Mr. Thomasson cried faintly. " I'll not do it 1 " But he sat down again, their heads came together across the table ; they talked long in low voices. Presently, Mr. Pomeroy fetched pen and paper from a table in one of the windows ; where they lay along with one or two odd volumes of Crebillon, a tattered Hoyle on whist, and Foote's jest book. A note was written and handed over, and the two rose. Mr. Thomasson would have hked to say a word before they parted as to no violence being contemplated or used ; some- thing smug and fair-seeming that would go to show that his right hand did not understand what his left was doing. But even his impudence was unequal to the task, and with a shamefaced good-night he secured the memorandum in his pocket-book and sneaked up to bed. He had every opportunity of carrying out Pomeroy's suggestion to make Lord Almeric his confidant. For when he entered the chamber which they shared, he found his lordship awake, tossing and turning in the shade of the green moreen curtains ; in a pitiable state between chagrin and rage. But the tutor's nerve failed him. He had few scruples it was not that ; but he was weary and sick at heart, and for that night he felt that he had done enough. So to all my lord's inquiries he answered as sleepily as consisted with respect, until the effect he did not wish to produce was pro- duced. The young roup's suspicions were aroused, and on a sudden he sat up in bed, his nightcap quivering on his head. " Tommy ! " he cried feverishly. " What is afoot down- stairs ? Now, do you tell me the cruth." -I If! ! Hi' 204 THE CASTLE INN. ♦' Nothing," Mr. Thomasson answered soothingly. " Because — well, she's played it uncommon low on me — uncommon low she's played it," my lord complained patheti- cally ; " but fair is fair, and willing's willing ! And I'll not see her hurt. Pom's none too nice, I know, but he's got to understand that. I'm none of your Methodists, Tommy, as you are aware, no one more so ! But, s'help me ! no one shall lay a hand on her against her will ! " " My dear lord, no one is going to ! " the tutor answered, quaking in his bed. " That is understood, is it ? Because it had better be ! " the little lord continued with unusual vigour. " I vow I have no cause to stand up for her. She's a d d saucy baggage, and has treated me with — with d d disrespect. But, oh, Lord I Tommy, I'd have been a good husband to her. I would indeed. And been kind to her. And now — she's made a fool of me ! She's made a fool of me I " And my lord took oflF his nightcap, and wiped his eyes with it. CHAPTER XXX. A GREEK GIFT. Julia, left alone, and locked iu the room, passed such a night as a girl instructed in the world's ways might have been expected to pass in her position, and after the rough treatment of the afternoon. The room grew dark, the dismal garden and weedy pool that closed the prospect Lded from sight ; and still as she crouched by the barred window, or listened breathless Pt the door, all that part of the house lay silent. Kot a sound of life came to the ear. By turns she resented and welcomed this. At one time, pacing the floor in a fit of rage and indignation, she was' ready to da^h herself against the door, or scream and scream and scream until some one came to her. At another the recollection of Pomeroy's sneering smile, of his insolent grasp, revived to chill and terrify her ; and she hid in the darkest corner, hugged the solitude, and, scarcely daring to breathe, prayed that the silence might endure for ever. But the hours in the dark room were long and cold ; and at times the fever of rage and fear left her in the chill. Of this came another phase through which she passed, as the night wore on and nothing happened. Her thoughts reverted to him who should have been her protector, but had become her betrayer— and by his treachery had plunged her into this misery ; and on a sudden a doubt of his i>-uilt flashed into her mind and blinded her by its brilliance. Had she done him an injustice ? Had the abdnotion been, uitei- all, conoertid not by him but by Mr. l^homasson and his 296 THE CASTLE INN. confederates ? The setting down near Pomeroy's gate, the reception at his house, the rough, hasty suit paid to her— • were these all parts of a drama cunningly arranged to mystify her? And was he innocent? Was he still her lover, true, faithful, almost her husband ? If she could think so ! She rose, and softly walked the floor in tho darkness, tc .rs raining down her face. Oh, if she could be sure of it ! At the tlionght, the thought only, she glowed from head to foot with happy shame. And foar ? If this were so, if his love were still hers, and hers the only fault — of doubting .im, she feared nothing ! Nothing ! She felt her way to a tray in the corner where her last meal remained un tasted, and ate and drank humbly, and for him. She might need her strength. She had finished, and was groping her return to the window-seat, when a faint rustle af ^f some one moving on the other side of the door caught her ear. She had fancied herself brave enough an instant before, but in the darkness a great horror of fear came on her. She stood rooted to the spot ; and heard the noise again. It was followed by the sound of a hand passed stenlthily over the panels ; a hand seeking, as she thought, for the key : and she could have shrieked in her helplessness. But while she stood, her face turned to stone, came instant relief. A voice, subdued in fear, whispered, " Hist, ma'am, hist ! Are you asleep ? " She could have fallen on her knees in her thankfulness. " No ! no ! " she cried eagerly. " Who is it ? '' " It is me — Olney ! " was the answer. " Keep a heart, ma'am ! They are gone to bed. You are quite safe." " Can you let me out ? " Julia cried. " Oh, let me out ! " " Let you out ? " " Yes, yes 1 Let me out ? Please let me out ? " " God forbid, ma'am ! " was the horrified answer. " He'd kill me. And he has the key. But " s gate, the d to her — •ranged to e still her ,valked the ce. Oh, if »ught only, ime. And id hers the Nothing ! ' hisfc moiil id for him. irn to the moving on lad fancied le darkness oted to the ved by the is ; a hand jonld have d, her face lubdned in deep ? " ankfulness. p a heart, ife." me out ! " A GREEK GIFT. 297 )" r. He'd " Yes ? yes ? " *' Keep your heart up, ma'am, for Jarvey '11 not sec you hurt ; nor will I. You may sleep easy. And good-night ! " She stole away before Julia could answer ; but she left comfort. In a glow of thankfulness the girl pushed a chair against the door, and, wrapping herself for warmth in the folds of the shabby curtains, lay down on the window seat. 8he was willing to sleep now, but the agitation of her thoughts, the whirl of fear and hope that prevailed in them, as she went again and again over the old ground, kept her long awake. The moon had risen and run its course, decid- ing the old garden with a solemn beauty as of death, and was beginning to retreat before the dawn, when Julia slept at last. When she awoke it was broad daylight. A moment she gazed upwards, wondering where she was ; the next a harsh grating sound, and the echo of a mocking laugh brought her to her feet in a panic of remembrance. The key was still turning in the lock — she saw it move, saw it withdrawn ; but the room was empty. And while she stood staring and listening heavy footsteps retired along the passage. The chair which she had set against the door had been pushed back, and milk and bread stood on the floor beside it. She drew a deep breath ; he had been there. But her worst terrors had passed with the night. The sun was shining, filling her with scorn of her gaoler. She panted to be face to face with him, that she might cover him with ridicule, overwhelm him wir the shafts of her woman's wit, and show him how little she feared, and how greatly she despised him. But he did not appear, the hours passed slowly, and with the afternoon came a clouded sky, and weariness and reaction of Rnin't.n • faHrrno nf ^y^Atr nnA a^tn'^t-hi--^"- l''-- -ll-a — - -- ^ on that a great terror. If they drugged her in her food ? .i' 1 1 II! in THB OASTLE INN. ?:il The thought was like a knife in the girl's heart, and while eiie still writhed on it, her ear caught the creak of a board in the passage, and a furtive tread that came, and softly went again, and once more returned. She stood, her heart beating ; and fancied she heard the sound of breathing on the other side of the door. Then her eye alighted on a some- thing white at the foot of the door, that had not been there a minute earlier. It was a tiny note. While she gazed at it the footsteps stole away again She pounced on the note and opened it, thinking it might be from Mrs. Olney. But the opening lines smacked of otiier modes of speech than hers ; and though Julia had no experience of Mr. Thomasson's epistolary style, she felt no surprise when she found the initials F. 1. appended to the message. "Madam," it ran. "You are in danger here, and I in no less of being held to account for acts which my heart abhors. Openly to oppose myself to Mr. P. — the course my «oul dictates — were dangerous for us both, and another must be found. If he drink deep to-night, I will, heaven assist- ing, purloin the key, and n 1 Ase you at ten, or as soon after m may be. Jarvey, who is iionest, and fears the turn things are taking, will liave a carriage waiting in the road. Be ready, hide this, and when you are free, though I seek no return for services attended by much risk, yet if you desire to find one, an easy way may appear of requiting, *' Madam, your devoted, obedient servant, F. T." Julia's face glowed. " He cannot do even a kind act as it should be done," she thought. " But once away it will be easy to reward him. At worst he shall teli me how I cams to be set down here." She spent the rest of the day divided between anxiety on that point — for Mr. Thomasson's intervention went 8ome way to weaken the theory she had built up witk ko A OREBK GIFT. 999 ind while f a board ind softly her heart athing on )n a Bome- een there gazed at f it might lacked of ia had no le felt no ed to the and I in my heart sourse my ther must en assiat- oon after rn things oad. Be [ seek no ou desire F. T." nd act as it will be w I came I anxiety on went I witk Ko much joy— and impatience for night to come and put m end to her suspense. She was now as much concerned tu escape the ordeal of Mr. Pomeroy'a visit as she had been earlier in the day to see him. And she had her wish. He did not come ; she fancied he might be wilhng to let the dulness and loneliness, the monotony and silence of her prison, work their ehcct on her mind. Night, as welcome to-day as it had been yesterday unwelcome, fell at last, and hid the dingy familiar room, the worn furniture, the dusky outlook. She counted the minutes, and befoi'o it was nine by the clock was the prey of impatience, thinking the time past and gone and the tutor a poor deceiver. Ten was midnight to her; she hoped against hope, walking her narrow bounds in the darkness. Eleven found her lying on her face on the floor, heaving dry sobs of despair, her hair dishevelled. And then, on a sudden she sprang up ; the key was grating in the lotk ! While she stared, half demented, scarcely believing her happiness, Mr. Thomasson appeared on the threshold, his head— he wore no wig— muffled in a woman's shawl, a shaded lanthorn in his hand. " Come 1 " he said. " There is not a moment to be lost." " Oh ! " she cried hysterically, yet kept her shaking voice low ; " I thought you were not coming. I thought it was all over." " I am late," he answered nervously ; his face was pale and damp, his shifty eyes avoided hers. " It is eleven o'clock, but I could not get the Key before. Follow me closely and silently, child ; i nd in a few minutes you will be safe." " Heaven bless you ! " she cried, weeping. And would have taken his hand. But at that he turned abruptly from her— so abruptly that Sii8 marveiieu, for she had not judged him a man averse from thanks. But getting his manner down to the ^1 'J il iSi ■m m 300 THE CASTLE INN. it iiN danger and tlio need of haste, she took the hint and, con- trolling her feelings, prepared to follow him in silence. Holding the lanthorn so that its lif,Mit fell on the floor he listened an instant, then led the way on tip-toe down the dim corridor. The house was hushed round them ; if a board creaked under their feet, ii seemed to her scared ears a pistol-shot. At the entrance to the gallery, which was partly illumined by liglits still burning in the hall below, the tutor paused afresh to listen, then turned ({uickly from it, and by a naiTow passage on the right gained a back staircase. Descending the steep stairs he guided her by devious turnings through dingy offices and servants' quarters until they stood in safety before an outer door. To with- draw the bar that secured it, while she held the lanthorn, was for the tutor the work of an instant. They passed through, and he closed the door softly behind them. After the confinement of her prison, the night air that blew on her temples was rapture to Julia ; for it breathed of freedom. She turned her face up to the dark boughs that met and interlaced above her head, and whispered her thankfulness. Then, obedient to Mr. Thomasson's impatient gesture, she hastened to follow him along a dank narrow path that skirted the wall of the house for a few yards, then turned ofT among the trees. They had left the wall no more than a dozen paces behind them, when Mr. Thomasson paused, as in doubt, and raised his light. They were in a little beech-coppice that grew close up to the walls of the servants' offices. The light showed the dark shining trunks, running in solemn rows this way and that ; and more than one path trodden smooth across the roots. The lanthorn disclosed no more, but apparently this was enough for Mr. Thomasson. He pur- walking brought them to the avenue. A GREEK GIFT. 801 and, con- ill silence. Iio floor lie ; down the hem ; if a scared cars which was hall below, lickly from led a back ied her by ts' quarters To with- e lanthorn, hey passed 3m. ht air that it breathed irk boughs ispered her s impatient ink narrow yards, then aces behind and raised that grew The light olemn rows den smooth more, but . He pur- a minute's Julia drew a breath of relief and looked behind and before "Where is the carriage?" she whispered, shivering with excitement. The tutor before lie answered raised his lanthorn thrice to the level of his head, as if to make sure of his position. Ihcn, "In the ruud," he answered. - And the sooner you are in it the better, child, for I must return and replace tlio key before he sobci-s. Or 'twill be worse for me," he added snappishly, " than for you." ''You are not coming wi(h me?" she exclaimed in surprise. ^^ " iNo, I— I can't quarrel with him," he answered hurriedly. "I- 1 am under obligations to him. And once in tii" carriage you'll bo safe," "Then please to tell me this," Julia rejoined, her breath a little short. "Mr. Thomusson, did you know anythin- of my being carried off before it took place ? " " " I ? " he cried effusively. " Did I know .? " "I mean- were you employed— to bring me to Mr Pomeroy's ? " "I employed to bring you to Mr. Pomeroy's? Good heavens ! ma'am, what do you take me for v " the tutor cried m righteous indignation. - No, ma'am, cei fainly not ' 1 ami not that kind of man ! " And then blurt-ng out the truth m his surprise, MVhy, 'twas Mr. Dunborough !" he said. " And like him too I Heaven keep us from him ! " " Mr. Dunborough ? " she exclaimed. "Yes, yes." " Oh," she said, in a helpless, foolish kind of way " It was Mr. Dunborough, was it ? " And she begged his pardon. And did it too, so humbly, in a voice so broken by revokfd''''''^ g^'atitude, that, bad man as he was, his soul t^^A ^ "•■7"''" ^^*^'^^ ^^ ^^ "P"*^ 5 ^^^ ^^^' ^" instant be stood still, the lanthorn swinging in his hand. 302 THE CASTLE INN. r,tf m 5' ' She misinterpreted the movement. " Are we rij^ht ? " she said anxiously. "You don't think that vve are out of the road?" Though the night was dark, and it was difficult to discern anything beyond the circle of light thrown by the Ian thorn, it struck her that the avenue they were traversing was not the one by which she had approached the house two nights before. The trees seemed to stand farther from one another and to be smaller. Or was it her fancy ? But it was not that had moved him to stand ; for in a moment, with a curious sound between a groan and a curse, he led the way on, without answering her. Fifty paces brought them to the gate and the road. Thomasson held up his lanthorn and looked over the gate. '< Where is the carriage ? " she whispered, startled by the darkness and silence. " It should be here," he answered, his voice betraying his perplexity. "It should be here at this gate. But I — I don't see it." " Would it have lights ? " she asked anxiously. He had opened the gate by this time, and as she spoke they pnssed through, and stood together looking up and down the road. The moon was obscui-ed, and the lanthorn's i"ays were of little use to find a carriage which was not tliere. " It should be here, and it should have lights,'' he said in evident dismay. *' I don't know what to think of it. I— ha I What is that ? It is coming, I think. Yes, I hear it. The coachman must have drawn oil a little for Fome reason, and now he has seen the lanthorn." He had only the sound of wheels to go upon, but lie proved to be right ; she uttered a sigh of relief as the twin lights of a carriage apparently approaching round a bend of iha rrtoA hrnlro virion thcin Th" l1Cfh^s d^AW nPHr and " '""' --•■•'-»" i' " - - . - — -J-J -_.. ^ - — nearer, and the tutor waved his lamp. For a second the A GREEK GIFT. 803 ght ? " she iVQ ont of tid it was e of light /enue thev approached d to stand was it her ; for in a nd a curse, Fifty paces lasson held tied by the traying his But I— I V. He had they passed u the road. \ys were of ' he said in of it. I— 28, I hear it. ome reason, pon, but h.c as the twin id a bend of V near and second the driver appeared to be going to pass them; then, as Mr Thomasson again waved his lanthorn and shouted he drew up, " Halloa ! " he said. Mr. Thomasson did not answer, but with a trembling hand opened the door and thrust the girl in. " God bless you ' " she murmnred ; " and " He slammed the door, cutting short the sentence. ^ "Well ? " the driver said, looking down at him, his face m shadow ; " I am " "Go on 1 " Mr. Thomas,=on cried peremptorily, and wa vin- his lanthorn again, startled the horses ; which plunged awav wildly the man tugging vainly at the reins. The tutor tancied that, as it started, he caught a faint scream from the inside of the chaise, but he set it down to fright caused by the sudden jerk, and, after he had stood long enough to assure himself that the carriage was keeping the road, he turned to retrace his steps to the house. He was feeling for the latch of the gate-h'B thoughts no pleasant ones, for the devil pays scant measure-when his ear was surprised by a new sound of wheel, approaching from the direction whence the chaise had come He stood to listen, thinking he heard an echo ; but in a second or two he saw lights approaching through the night precisely a^ the other hghts had approached. Once seen they came on swiftly, and he waa still standing gaping in wonder when a camage-and-pair, a postboy riding and a servant sitting outside, swept by, dazzling him a moment ; the next it was gone, whirled away into the darkness. i CHAPTER XXXI. ; 1 ! I THE INN AT CHIPPENHAM. The roiid which passed before the gates at Bastwick was not a highway, and Mr. Thomasson stood a full minute, staring after the carriage, and wondering what chance brought a traveller that way at that hour. Presently it occurred to him that one of Mr. Pomeroy's neighbours might have dined abroad, have sat late over the wine, and be now returning ; and that so the incident might admit of the most innocent explanation. Yet it left him uneasy. Until the last hum of wheels died in the distance he stood listening and thinking. Then he turned from the gate, and with a shiver betook himself towards the house. He had done his part. Or had he ? The road was not ten paces behind him, when a cry rent the darkness, and he paused to lis- n. He caught the sound of hasty footsteps crossing the open ground on his right, and apparently drawing near ; and he raised his lanthom in alarm. The next moment a dark form vaulted the railings that fenced the avenue on that side, sprang on the affrighted tutor, and, seizing him violently by the collar, shook him to and fro as a terrier shakes a rat. It was Mr. Pomeroy, beside himself with rage. " What have you done with her?" he cried. "You treacherous hound ! " Done— done with whom ? " the tutor gasped, striving to THE INN AT CHIPPENHAM. 305 ifcwick was U minute, at chance "esently it leighboura wine, and ght admit im uneasj. le he stood the gate, ouse. He hind him, LS'/n. He the open r ; and he nt a dark le on that izing him B a terrier I. "What reacheroua striving to free himself. " Mr. Pomeroj, : am nofc-what docs this — mean ? " " With her ? With the girl ? " "She is— I have put Ijcr in ihc carria<;(« : I swear I have I Oh I " he shrieked, m l\Ir. Pomcroy, in a fresh access of passion, gripped his throat and squeezed it "I have put her in the carriage, I toll you ! I have done everything you told nie ! " " In the carriage ? mrai carriage ? In ^vllat furri.igo ? " " The one that was there." "At the gate?" " Yes, yes." " You fool ! You imbecile ! " m. Pomeroy roared, as he shook him with all his strength. -The carriage is at the other gate." Mr. Thomasson gasped, partly with surprise, partly under the influence of Pomeroy's violeuce. " At the other gate ? ' he faltered. " But— there was a carriage here. I saw it. I put her in it. Not a minute ago ! " "Then, by heaven, it was your carriage, and you have betrayed me," Pomcroy retorted ; and shook his trembling victim until his teeth chattered and his eyes protruded. "I thought I heard wheels and I came to see. If you dou't tell me the truth this iustant," he continued furiouslr, 'Til have the Hfe out of you." " It is the truth," Mr. Thomasson stammered, blubbering with fright. " It was a carriage that came up— and stopped! I thought it was yours, and I put her in. And it went on." "A lie, man— a lie ! " " I swear it is true ! I swear it is ! If it were not should I be going back to the house ? Should I be going to face you ? " Mr. Thomasson protested. The argument impressed Pomeroy; his grasp relaxed. >' The devil is in it, then 1 " he inuttercd. ^" For no one C.I. ^ iu; adhimBMm -'■t i' ».:ii m 306 THE CASTLE INN. else could have set a carriage at that gate at that minate ! \nv \x\Y I'll l^no\Y. Come ou ! " he continued recklessly, snatching up the lanthorn, which iuid lallen on its side and was not extinguished. MVe'U after her ! By^ the Lord, we'll after her ! They don't trick me so easily ! The tutor ventured a terrified remonstrance, ])ut Mr. Pomcroy, doaf to his entreaties rmd nrg^inioi.ts binidled him over the fence, and, gripping his arm, hurried him as fast as his feet would carry him across tlie sward to the other gate. A carriage, ils lamps burning brightly, stood in the road. Mr. Pomeroy exchanged a few curt words with the driver, thrust in the tutor, and folL^wed himself. On the instant the vehicle dashed away, the coachman cracking his whip and shouting curses at his horses. The hed<-es flew by, pale glimmering walls in the larap- liaht ; the mud flew up and splashed Mr. Pomeroy's face ; still he hung out of the window, his hand on the fastening of the door, and a brace of pistols on the ledge before him ; while the tutor, shuddering at these preparatmns, hoping ao-ainst hope that they would overtake no one, cowered in the farther corner. With every turn of the road or swerve of the horses Pomcroy expected to see the fugitives lights. Unaware or oblivious that the carriage he was pursuing had the start of him by so much that at top speed he could scarcely look to overtake it uml, r the hour, his rage increased with every disappointment Aichuugh the pace at wlu^n they travelled over the rough ro;id was sich as to hll the tutor with instant terror and urgent thoughts ot aeat,i- aU'^on-h fuvst one lamp wa^. extinguished and then another, and the carriage swung so violently as from moment to moment to threaten an overturn, Mr. Pomeroy never ceased to hang out of the window, to y.ll at the horses and upbraid the driver. And with all the labour seemed to be wasted. Witti THE INN AT CHIPPENHAM. 307 ■3 i wrath and a volley of oaths he saw the lights of Chippeii .1 appear in front, and still no signs of the pursued. Five minutes later tho carriage awoke the echoes in the main street of the s'ee'ung town, and Mr. Thomasson drew a deep breath or rsHer as it came to a stand. Not so Ml'. Pomeroy. He dashed the door open and sprang out, prepared to overwhelm the driver with reproaches. The man anticipated him. "They are here," he said with a sulky gesture. "Here? Where?" A man in a watchman's coat, and carrying a staff aud lanthorn — of whom the driver had already asked a question — came heavily round Iroin the off-side of the carriage. "There is a ciiaisc-and-pair jast come in from the Melk- sham road," ho said, "and gone to the Angel, if that is what you want, your honour." " A lady with them ? " " I saw none, but there might be." '• How long ago ? " " Ten mmutes." "We're right ! " Mr. Pomeroy cried with a jubilant g . 11, and turning back to the door of the carriage, slipped the pistols into his skirt pockets. " Come," he said to Thomasson. " And do you," he continued, addressing his driver, who was no other than the respectable Tamph'::, "follow at a walking pace. Have they ordered on? iio asked, slipping a crown into the night-watchman's hand. " I think not, your honour," the man answered. *' I believe they are staying." With a word of satisfaction Mr. Pomeroy hurried his unwilling companion towards the inn. The streets were dark ; only an oil lamp or two burned at distant points. But the darkness of the town was noon-day lij^ht in coiv,- parison of the gloom which reigned in Mr. Thomasson's X 2 i} 308 THE CASTLE INN. mind. Ill the grasp of this headstrorg man, whose temper rendered him blind to obstacles and heedless of danger, the tutor felt himself swept along, as incapable of resistance as tlie leaf that is borne upon the stream. It was not until they turned into the open space before the Angel, and perceived a light in the doorway of the inn that despair gave him courage to remonstrate. Then the risk and folly of the course they were pursuing struck him so forcibly that he grew frantic. He clutched Mr. Pomeroy's sleeve, and dragging him aside out of earshot of Tamplin, who was following them, " This is madness ! " he urged vehemently. " Sheer madness ! Have you considered, Mr. Pomeroy ? If she is here, what claiin have we to interfere with her ? What authority over her ? What title to force her away ? If we had overtaken her on the road, in the country, it might have been one thing. But here " " Here ? " Mr. Pomeroy retorted, his face dark, his undcr- jaw thrust out hard as a rock. " And why not here ? " " Because — why, because she will appeal to the people." " What people ?" " The people who have brought her hither." " And what is their right to her ? " Mr. Pomeroy retorted, with a brutal oath. "The people at the inn, then." "Well, and what is their right ? But— I gee your point, parson ! Damme, you are a cunning one. I had not thought of that. She'll appeal to them, will ahe ? Then Bhe shall be my sister, run off from her home ! Ha ! Ha ! Or no, my lad," he continued, chuckling savagely, and slapping the tutor on the back ; " they know me here, and that I have no sister. She shall be your daughter 1 " And while Mr. Thomasson stared asfhast. Pomeroy laufhed recklessly. " She shall be your daughter, man 1 My guest, whose temper of danger, the resistance as was not until Angel, and that despair ivere pursuing He clutched aside out of im, " This is dness ! Have *e, what claiju ity over her ? overtaken her in one thing. irk, his undcr- t here ? " the people." eroy retorted, ;e your point, I had not ahe ? Then i! Hal Ha! lavagely, and ow me here, r daughter ! " leroy laucfhed I My guest, THE INN AT CHIPPENHAM. 809 Oh, by Gad, we'll nick and run off with an Irish ensign ! her ! Come on ! " Mr. Thomasson shuddered. It seemed to him the wildest scheme— a folly beyond speech. Resisting the hand with which Pomeroy would have impelled him cowards the lighted doorway, " I will have nothing to do with it ! " he cried, with all the firmness he could muster. " Nothing ! xNothing I " " A minute ago you might have gone to the devil ! " Mr. Pomeroy answered grimly, " and welcome ! Now, I want you. And, by heaven, if you don't stand by me I'll break your back ! Who is there here who is likely to know you ? Or what have you to fear ? " " She'll expose us ! " Mr. Thomasson whimpered. " She'll tell them ! " " Who'll believe her ? " the other answered with supreme contempt. *' Which is the more credible story— hers about a lost heii', or ours ? Come on, I say ! " Mr. Thomasson had been far from anticipating a risk of this kind v.'Iien he entered on his cai-eer of scheming. But he stood in mortal terror of his companion, whose reckless passions were fully aroused; and after a brief resistance he succumbed. Still protesting, he allowed him- self to be urged past the open doors of the inn-yard— in the black depths of which the gleam of a lanthorn, and the form of a man moving to and fro, indicated that the strangers' horses were not yet bedded— and up the hospitable steps of the Angel Inn. A solitary candle burning in a room on the right of the hall, guided their feet that way. Its light disclosed a red-curtained snuggery, well-fiirnished with kegs and jolly- bodied jars, and rows of flasks ; and in the middle of this cheerful profi-,ion the landlord himself, stooping over a bottle of port which he was lovingly decanting. His array. I .■J il 810 THE CASTLE INN. a horseman's coat worn over night-gear, with bare feet thrust into slippers, proved him newly risen from bed ; but the hum of voices and clatter of plates which came from the neighbouring kitchen were signs that, late as it was, the good inn was not caught napping. The host heard their steps behind him, but crying, " Commg, gentlemen, coming ! " finished his task before ho turned. Then " Lord, save ns ! " he ejaculated, staring at them— the empty bottle in one hand, the decanter in the other. " Why, the road's alive to-night ! I bog your honour's pardon, I am sure, and yours, sir ! I thought 'twas or -• :,f the gentlemen that arrived awhile ago — come down < . see why supper lagged. Squire Pomeroy, to be sure ! What can I do for you, gentlemen ? The fire is scarce out in • ■■'^. Hertford, and shall be rekindled at once ? " £.T. Poruaroy silenced him by a gesture. "No," he said; "we are not staying. But you have some guests here, who arrived half an hour ago ? " To be sure, your honour. " Is there a young lady with them ? " The landlord looked hard at him. " A young lady ? " he said. " Yes I Are you deaf, man ? " Pomeroy retorted wmth- fuUy, his impatience getting the better of him. "Is there a young lady with them ? That is what I asked." But the landlord still stared ; and it was only after an appreciable interval that he answered cautiously : " Well, to be sure, I am not— I am not certain. I saw none, sir. But I only saw the gentlemen when they had gone upstairs. William admitted them, and rang up the stables. A young lady ? " he continued, rubbing his head as if the question perplexed liim. " May I ask, is't some one your honour is " Damme, man, should I ask if it weren't ? " Mr. Pomeroy The same I was naming.' re feet thrust led ; but the me from the 3 it was, the but crying]:, isk before ho id, staring at ;auter in the I beg j'onr thought 'twas — coiuo down , to be sure ! is scarce out . "No," he some guests 3 naming." oung lady ? " itorted wi'ath- 1. '*l8 there ed." only after an y : " AVell, to one, sir. But jone upstairs, es. A young the question our honour is ' Mr. Pomeroy THE INN AT CHIPPENHAM. 811 retorted angrily. *' If you must know, it is this gentleman's daughter, who has run away from her friends." "Der, :ear!" " And taken up with a beggarly Irishman ! " Tiie landlord stared from one to tiie other in great perplexity. '' Dear me ! " he said. " That is sad I The gentleman's daughter ! " And lie looked at Mr. Thomasson, whose fat sallow face was sullenness itself. Then, remem- bering his manners, " Well, to be sure, I'll go and learn," he conthuied briskly. " Charles ! " to a half-dressed waiter, who at thai inoincnt iippourcd at the loot of the stairs, " sot lights in the Yarmouth, and draw these gentlemen what they require. I'll not be many minutes, Mr. Pomeroy." He hurried up the narrow staircase, and an instant later appeared on the threshold of a room in which sat two gentle- men, facing one another in silence before a hastily-kindled fire. They had travelled together from Bristol, cheek by jowl in a post-chaise, exchanging scarce as many words iis they had traverse] miles. But patience, whether it be of the sullen or the dignified cast, has its limits ; and these two, their tempers exasperated by a chilly journey taken fasting, had come very near to the end of sufferance. Fortunately, at the moment ]\Ir. iJunborough — for he was the one— made the discovery that he could not endure 8ir George's impassive face for so much as the hundredth part of another minute — and, in consequence, was having recourse to his invention for the most brutal remark with which to provoke him — the port and the landlord arrived together ; and William, who had carried up the cold beef and stewed kidneys by another staircase, was heard on the landing. The host helped to place the dishes on the table. Then he shut out his assistant. " By your leave. Sir George," he said diffidently, " Bat the young lady you were inquiring for ? Might I ask ? " ].; i m JIL^i^. t 'J 312 THE CASTLE INN. He paused as if he feared to give offence. Sir fieoruvi laid down his knife and fork and looked at him. Mr. Dunborongh did the sume. " Yes, yes, man," Soane said. ** Have you heard anything ? Out with it ! " ""Well, sir, it is only I was going to ask if her father lived in these parts." " Her father ? " « Yes, sir." Mr. Dunborongh burst into rude Inughtor. *' Oh, Lor'd ! '» he said. " Are we grown so proper of a sudden ? Her father, damme ! " Sir George shot a glance of disdain at him. Then, "My good fellow," he said to the host, " her father has been dead these fifteen years." The landlord reddrned, annoyed by the way Mr. Dunborough had taken him. ''The gentleman mistakes me, Sir George," ho said stiffly. "I did not ask out of curiosity, as yon, who know me, can guess ; but to be plain, your honour, there are two gentlemen below stairs, just come in ; and what beats me, though I did not tell them so, they are also in search of a young lady." " Indeed ? " Sir George answered, looking gravely at him. " Probably they are from the Castle Inn at Marlborough, and are inquiring for the lady we are seeking." " So I should have thought, sir," the landlord answered, nodding sagely ; " but one of the gentlemen says he is her father, and the other " Sir George stared. "Yes?" he said. "What of the other ? " " Is Mr. Pomeroy of Bastwick," the host replied, lowering his voice. " Doubtless your honour knows him ? " " By name." " He has naught to do with the young lady ? " " Nothing in the world." THE INN AT CHIPPENHAM. 313 lim. Mr, Soane siiid. ask if her h, Lo^-d ! '' en ? Her 'hen, " My been dead way Mr. I mistakes >sk out of 3 be ])Iain, just come 01 so, they ily at him. rlborongh, answered, I he is her at of the , lowering " I ask because well, I don't like to speak ill of the quality, or of those by whom one lives, Sir George ; but he has not got the best niuno in the county ; and there have been wild doings at Bastwick of late, and writs and bailifl's, and worse. So I did not up and toll him all I knew." On a sudden D nl .rough spoke. " lie was at College, at Pembroke," he said. " Doyley knows him. He'd know Tommy too ; and we know Tommy is with the giil, and that they were both dropped Laycock way. Hang me, if I don't think there is something in this ! " ho continued, thrusting his feet into slippers : his boots were drying on the hearth. " Thomasson is rogue enough for anything ! See here, man," he went on, rising and Hmging down hi« napkin ; " do you go down and draw them into the hall, so that I can hear their voices. And I will come to the head of the stairs. Where is Bastwick ? " " Between here and Melkshani, but a bit off the road, sir." " It would not bo far from Laycock ? " " No, your honour ; I should think it would be within two or three miles of it. They are both on the flat t'other side of the river." " Go down ! go down ! " Mr. Dunborough answered "And pump him, man! Set him talking. I believe we have run the old fox to earth. It will be our fault if we don't find the vixen ! " w ;. * Mi i ■lit CHAPTER XXXII. CHANCE MKDLKY. By this time the ai'rivil of a sccoii.l piir of travellers hard on the heels of the first had roused the iiiu to lull activity. Half-dressed servants flitted this way and thtifc through the narrow passages, sotting nightcaps in the chiii!il)ers. or bringing up clean snutfers and siiult' ti'ays. One was away to the buttery, to di'aw ale for the drivei", ai'othor to the kitchen with William's orders to the cook. Ijights began to shine in the hall and behind tlvj (liaiiviTid panes of the low-browed windows ; a pleasant hum, a subdued bustle, filled the hospitable house. On entering the Yarmouth, however, the hindiord was surprised to find only the clergyman awaiting him. Mr. Pomeroy, irritated by liis long alisciice, had gone to the stables to learn what he could from the pcstboy. The land- lord was nearer, indeed, than he knew to finding no one ; for when he entered, Mr. Thomasson, unable to su})pro8S his fears, was on his feet ; another ten seconds,- and the tutor would liave fled panic-stricken from the house. The host did ! ot suspect this, but Mv. Thomasson thought he did ; and the thought added to his confusion. '* I — I was coming to ask what had happened to you," he stammered. " You will understand, I am very nnxions to get news." " To be sure, sir," the landlord answered comfortably. " "Will you step this way, and I think wo shall be able to ascertain something for certain ? " CHANCE MEDLEY. 816 jllors hard 11 activity, irongh the 11!) hers, or was away hor to the iits began IK'S of the led hustle, Nriord was him. Ml". )iic to the The laiul- g: no one ; ippress his the tutor )u thought 1. '* I— I taramcred. lews." mforfcably. be able to But the tutor did not like his tone ; moreover, he felt Bafer in the room than in the public hall. He shrank back. " I_I think I will wait here until Mr. Pomeroy returns," he said. The landlord raised his eyebrows. " I thougiit you were anxious, sir," ho retorted, '* to get news ? " '* So I am, very anxious ! " Mr. Thomasson icplifd, with a touch of the stilTness that nuirked his manner to those below him. " Still, I think I had hotter wait here. Or, no I " he cried, afraid to stand out, " I will Cdiue with you. But, you see, if she is not here, I am anxious to go in search of ber as quickly as possible, wheie — wherever she is." "To be sure, that is natural," the landlord answered, holding the dour oim\ that the chrgymnn might pass cut, "seeing that you are her father, sir. 1 think you said you were her father ? " he continued, as Mr. Thomiisson, with a scared look round the hall, emerged from the room. " Ye — yes," the t itor faltered ; and wished himself in the street. " At leas' -I am her step-father." " Oh, her step .her ! " " Yes," Mr. Thomasson answered, faintly. How he cursed '>e folly that had put him in ids false position! How much more strongly he would have cursed it, had he known what it was cast that dark shadow, as of a lurking man, on the upper part of the stairs ! " Just so," the landlord answered, as he paused at the foot of the staircase. "And, if you please—what might your name be, sir ? " A cold sweat roae on the tutor's brow ; he looked help- lessly towards the do'>r. If he gave his name and the matter were followed up, he would be traced, and it was impossible to say what mi^dit not come of it. At last, " Mr. Thomas," he said, with a sneaking guiit-look. " Mr. Thomas, your reverence ? " 316 THE CASTLE INN. "Yes." " And the young iady s name would be Thomas, then ? " " N— no," Mr. Thomasson faltered. " No. Her name— you see," he continued, nith a sickly smile, " she is my step- daughter." " To be sure, your reverence. Sc I understood. And her name ? " The tutor glowered at his persecutor. " I protest, you are monstrous inquisitive," he said, with a sudden sorry air of offence. " But, if you must know, her name is Masterson ; and she has left her friends to join— to join a— an Irish adventurer." It was unfortunately said ; the more as the tutor, in order to keep his eye on the door, by which he expected Mr. Pomeroy to re-enter, had turned his back on the staircase. The lie was scarcely off his lips when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and, twisting him round with a jerk, brought him face to face with an old friend. The tutor's eyes met those of Mr. Dunborough, he uttered one low shriek, and turned as white as paper. He knew that Nemesis had over- taken him. But not how heavy a Nemesis ! For he could not know that the landlord of the Angel owned a restive colt, and no farther back than the last fair had bought a new whip ; nor that that very whip lay at this moment where the landlord had dropped it, on a chest so near to Mr. Dunborough's hand that the tutor never knew how he became possessed of it. Only he saw it imminent, and would have fallen in sheer terror, his coward's knees giving way under him, if Mr. Dunborough had not driven him back against the wall with a violence that jarred the teeth in his head. "You liar!" the infuriated listener cried; "you lying toad ! " and shonk him nfrpah ^xr\^h «n«Vi c^^i-^^^^ " She has run away from her friends, has she ? With an Irish CHANCE MEDLEY. 317 k3ue adventurer, eh ? And you are her father ? And your name is Thomas ? Thomas, eh ! Well, if you do nob this instant tell me where she is, I'll Thomas you ! Now, come I One ' Two! Three!" In the last words seemed a fuiut promise of mercy ; alas ' it was fallacious. Mr. Thomasson, the lash impending over him, had time to utter oue cry ; no more. Then the laud- lord's supple cutting-whip, wielded by a vigorous haud, wound round the tenderest part of his legs— for at the critical instant Mr. Dunborough dragged him from the wall —and with a gasping shriek of pain, pain such as he had not felt since boyhood, Mr. Thomasson leapt into the air. After that, his breath returning, he strove frantically to throw himself down ; but strnggle as lie might, pour forth screams, prayers, execrations, as lie mighi, all was vain- The hour of requital had come. The cruel lash fell again and again, raising great wheals on his pampered body ; now he clutched Mr. Dunborough's arm, only to be shaken off • now he grovelled on the floor ; now he was plucked up again, now an ill-directed cut marked his cheek. Twice the landlord, in pity and fear for the man's life, tried to catch Mr. Dunborough's arm and stay tlie punishment ; once William did the same— for ten seconds of this had filled the hall with staring servants. But Mr. Dunborough's arm and the whirling whip kept all at a distance ; nor was it until a tender-hearted housemaid ran in at risk of her beauty, and clutched his wrist and hung on it, that the executioner tossed the instrument away, and allowed Mr. Thomasson to drop, a limp, moaning rag, on the floor. " For shame ! " the girl cried hysterically. " You black- guard ! You cruel blackguard ! " "'Tis he's the blackguard, my dear!" the Honourable Mr. Dnnhnrnncrli nnoTn-ni'/^fl -r^^^i.: u.-i •.<■•. „ o" •■* T.-i^(.t, pauuijg, Out in the oest of tempers. "Bring me a tankard of something; and put 318 THE CASTLE INN. iHi : \4' id He has got no more than I , that rubbish outside, landlord he deserved, my dear." Mr. Thomasson uttered a moan, and one of the waiters stooping over him asked him if he could stand. He answered only by a faint groan, and the man raising his eyebrows, looked gravely at the landlord ; who, recovered from the astonishment into which the fury and suddenness of the assault had thrown him, turned his indignation on Mr. Dunborough. " I am surprised at you, sir," he cried, rubbing his hands with vexation. "I did not thmk a gentleman in Sir George' company would act like this ! And in a respect- able house ! For shame, sir ! For shame ! Do, some of you," he continued to the servants, '* take this gentleman to his room and pat iiim to bed. And softly with him, do you hear? " " I think he has swooned," the man answered, who had stooped over him. The landlord wrung his hands. " Fie, sir — for shame ! " he said. " Stay, Charles ; I'll fetch some brandy." He bustied away to do so, and to acquaint Sir George ; who, through all, and though from his open door he had gathered what was happening, had resolutely held aloof. The landlord, as he went out, unconsciously evaded Mr. Pomeroy, who entered at the same moment from the street. Innocent of what was forward — for his companion's cries iiad not reached the stables — Pomeroy advanced at his ease and was surprised to find the hall, which he had left empty, occupied by a chattering crowd of half-dressed servants ; sume standing round the prostrate man with lights, some muttering their pity or suggesting remedies ; while others again glanced askance at the victor, who, out of bravado lather than for any better reason, maintained his place at the foot of the stairs, and now and then called to them " to rub him — they would not rub that off! " CHANCE MEDLEY. 819 Mr. Pomeroy did not at first see the fallen man, so thick was the press round him. Then some one moved, and he did ; and the thing that had happened bursting on him, his face, gloomy before, grew black as a thunder-cloud. He flung the nearest to either side, that he might see the better ; and, as they recoiled, " Who has done this ? " he cried in a voice low but harsh with rage. " Whose work is this ? " And standing over the tuLor he turned himsclr', looking from one to another. For a moment no one answered him ; the servants knew his reputation, and shrank panic-stricken. Then Mr. Dunborough, who, whatever his faults, was not a coward, took the Avord. " Wliose work is it ? " he replied with assumed carelessness. "It is my work. Have you any fault to find with it ? " " Twenty, puppy ! " the elder man retorted, foaming with rage. And then, " Have I said enough, or do you want me to say more ? " he cried. " Quite enough," Mr. Dunborough answered calmly. He had wreaked the worst of his rage on the unlucky tutor. " Wheu you are sober I'll talk to you." Mr. Pomeroy, with a frightful oath, cursed his impu- dence. *' I believe I have to pay you for more than this ! " he panted. " Is it you wlio decoyed a girl from my house to-night ? " Mr. Dunborough laughed aloud. "No, but it was I sent her there," he said. He liad the advantage of knowledge. "And if I had brought her away again, it would have been nothing to you." The answer staggered Bully Pomeroy in the midst of his rage. " Who are you ? " he cried. *'Ask vour friend tliere ! " Dnnbovor.o'h retorted with disdain. " I've written my name on him ! It should be !S 1 f: I '620 III , -J i THE CASTLE INN. pretty plain to read " ; and he turned on his heel to go upstairs. Pomeroy took two steps forward, laid his hand on the other's shoulder, and, big man as lie was, turned him round. " Will you give me satisfaction ? " he cried. Dunborough's eyes met his. " So that is your tone, is it ? " he said slowly ; and he reached for the tankard of 'ale that had been brought to him, and that now stood on a chest at the foot of the stairs. But Mr. Pomeroy's hand was on the pot first ; in a second its contents were in Dunborough's face and dripping from his cravat. " Now will you fight ? " Bully Pomeroy cried ; and as if he knew his man, and that he had done enough^ he turned his back on the stairs and strode first into tlie Yarmouth. Iwo or three women screamed as they saw the liquor thrown, and a waiter ran for the landlord. A second drawer, more courageous, cried, " Gentlemen, gentlemen— for God's sake, gentlemen ! " and threw himself between the younger man and the door of the room. But Dunborough, his lace flnsiied with anger, took him by the shoulder, and sent him spinning ; then with an oath he followed the other into the Yarmouth, and slammed the door in the faces of the crowd. They heard the key turned. "My God ! " the \ .titer who had interfered cried, his face white, "there will be murder done ! " And he sped away for the kitchen poker that he might break in the door. He had known such a case before. Another ran to seek the gentleman upstairs. The others drew round the door and stooped to listen ; a moment, and the sound they feared reached their ears— the grinding of steel, the trampling of leaping feet, now a yell and now a taunting laugh. The sounds were too much for ono of tli^ mon wK/^ v,«n..;i *v. he beat on the door with his fists. " Gentlemen ! " he cried, CHANCE MEDLEY. 821 heel to go nd on fche liin round. ir tone, is :ar(i of alo Lood on a n a second ping from foy cried ; .Q enough, b into the he liquor id drawer, for God's 3 younger I, his fiace sent him ' into the he crowd. , his face ped away oor. He seek the door and !y feared ipling of :h. The i-t tiic.u ; he cried, his voice quavering, " for the Lord's sake, don't, gentlemen I Don't ! " On which one of the women who had shrieked fell on the floor in wild hysterics. That brought to a pitch the horror without the room, where lights shone on frightened faces and huddled forms! In the height of it the landlord and Sir George appeared. The woman's screams were so violent that it was rather from the attitude of the group about the door than from anything they could hear that the two took in the position. The ■instant they did so Sir George signed to the servants to stand aside, and drew back to hurl himself against the door. A cry that the poker was come, and that with this they could burst the lock with ease, stayed him just in time— and fortunately ; f«r as they went to adjust the point of the tool between the lock and the jamb the nearest man cried " Hush I " and raised his hand, the door creaked, and in a moment opened inwards. On the threshold, supporting himself by the door, stood Mr. Dunborough, his face damp and pale, his eyes furtive and full of a strange horror. He looked at Sir George. " He's got it ! " he muttered in a hoarse whisper. " You had better— get a surgeon. You'll bear me out," he con- tinued, looking round eagerly, '* he began it. He flung it in my face. By God— it may go near to hanging me ! " Sir George and the landlord pushed by him and went in. The room was lighted by one candle, burning smokily on the high mantelshelf; the other lay overturned and ex- tinguished in the folds of a tablecloth which had been dragged to the floor. On a wooden chair beside the bare table sat Mr. Pomeroy, huddled chin to breast, his left hand pressed to his side, his right still resting on the hilt of his small-sword. His face was the colour of chalk, and a little 1....,,, „,,,ocl Oh nis iipa ; bub ins eyes, turnea siighLly up- wards, still followed his rival with a grim, fixed stare. Sir C«I» Y ! i 322 THE CASTLE INN. George marked the crimson stain on his lips, and raising his hand for silence — for the servants were beginning to crowd in with exclamations of horror— knelt down beside the chair, ready to support him in case of need. "They are fetching a surgeon," lie said. " He will be here in a minute." Mr. Pomeroy's eyes left the door, through which Dun- borough had disappeared, and for a few seconds they dwelt unwinking on Sir George : but for a while he said nothing. At length, " Too late," he whispered. " It was my boots, I slipped— or I'd have gone through him. I'm done. Pay Tamplin — five pounds I owe him." Soane saw that it was only a matter of minutes, and he signed to the landlord, who was beginning to lament, to be fiilent. *' If you can tell me where the girl is— in two words," he said gently, " will you try to do so ? " The dying man's eyes roved over the ring of faces. " I don't know," he whispered, so faintly that Soane had to bring his ear very near his lips. " The parson— was to have got her to Taraplin's— for me. He put her in the wrong carriage. He's paid. And— I'm paid." With the last word the small-sword fell clinking to the floor. Thn dying man drew himself up, and seemed to press h uind more and more tightly to his side. For a brief second a look of horror—as if the consciousness of his position dawned on his brain— awoke in his eyes. Then he beat it down. " Tamplin's staunch," he muttered! " I must .stand by Tamplin. 1 owe— pay him five pounds for " A gush of blood stopped his utterance. He gasped and with a groan but no articulate word fell forward in Soane's arms. Bully Pomoroy had lost his last stake ! Not this time the spare thousauds the old squire, good laving man, had left on bond and mortgage ; not this timo CHANCE MEDLEY. 823 raising his ? to crowd ! the chair, "C fetching lich Dun- hey dwelt I nothing. y boots, I 3iie. Pay the copious thousands he had raised himself for spendthrift uses : nor the old oaks his great-grandsire had planted to ^celebrate His Majesty's glorious Restoration: nor the Lelys and Knellers that great-grandsire's son, shrewd old connoisseur, commissioned : not this time the few hundreds liardly squeezed from charge und jointure, or wrun<»- fruiu the unwilling hands of friends-but life; hfe, and who shall say what besides life ? s, and he ent, to be raids," he ices. ** I le had to IS to have he ^vrong ig to the semed to s. For a usness of his eyes, nuttered. 3 pounds :li jped and I Soane's re, good ihis timo Y 2 gl't I i jIt CHAPTER XXXIII. It! ^^-^ i i: ■; iiiflga IN THE CARllIAGE. Mr. TiiOiiASSON was mistaken in supposing? that it was the jerk, caused by the horses' start, which drew from Julia the scream he heard as the carriage bounded forward and whirled into the night. The girl, indeed, was in no mood to be lightly scarel ; she had gone through too much. But as, believing herself alone, she sank b\ck on the seat — at the moment that the horses plunged forward — her hand, extended to save herself, touched another hand : and the sudden contact in the dark, conveying to her the certainty that she had a companion, with all the possibilities the fact conjured up, more than excused an involuntary cry. The answer, as she recoiled, expecting the worst, was a sound between a sigh and a grunt ; followed by silence. The coachman had got the horses in hand again, and was driving slowly ; perhaps he expected to be stopped. She sat as far into her corner as she could, listening and staring, enraged rather than frightened. The lamps shed no light into the interior of the carriage, she had to trust entirely to her ears ; and, gradually, while she sat shud- dering, awaiting she knew not what, there stole on her senses, mingling with the roll of the wheels, a sound the least expected in t4ie world— a snore ! Irritated, puzzled, she stretched out a hand and touched a sleeve, a man's sleeve ; and at that, remembering how she had sat and wasted fears on Mr. Thomasson before she IN THE CARRIAGE. 326 it was the I'om Julia •ward and no mood ucli. Bat 3 seat — at hei' li:md, : and the I certainty ;s the fact y- rst, waa a >y silence. 1, and was ped. She miiig and imps shed i to trust sat sliud- le on her sound the d touched ering how before she knew who he was, she pave herself entirely to anj^er. "Who is it?" she cried sharply. "What are you doing here?" The snoring ceased, the man turned himself in his corner. " Are we there ? " he murmured drowsily ; and, before she could answer, was asleep again. The absurdity of the position pricked her. Was she always to be travelling in dark carriaj^cs beside men Avho mocked her ? In her impatience she shook the man violently. "AYlio are you? What arc you doing here?" she cried again. The unseen roused himself. " Eh ? " he exclaimed. " Who — who ppoke ? I — oh, dear, dear, I must have been dreaming. I thought I heard " " Mr. Fishwick ! " she cried ; her voice breaking between tears and laughter. " Mr. Fishwick ! " And she stretched out her hands, and found his, and shook and held them in her joy. The lawj'er heard, and felt ; but, newly roused from sleep, unable to see her, unable to understand how she came to be by his side in the post-chaise, he shrank from her. He was dumbfounded. His mind ran on ghosts and voices ; and he was not to be satisfied until he had stopped the carriage, and with trembling fingers brought a lamp, that he might see her with his eyes. That done, the little attorney faiily wept for joy. " That I should be the one to find you ! " he cried. "That I should be the one to bring you back ! Even now I can hardly believe that you are here ! Where have you been, child ? Lord bless us, we have seen strange things ! " " It was Mr. Dunborough ! " she cried with indignation. "I know, I know," he said. "He is behind with Sir George Soane. Sir George and I followed you. We met him, and Sir George compelled him to accompany us." see THE CASTLE INN. H- • "i 1 " Compelled him ? " she said. "Ay, with a pistol to his head," the lawyer answered; and chuckled and leapt in his scat — for he had re-entered the carriage — at the remembrance. " Oh, liord, I declare I have lived a year in the last two days. And to think that I should 1)0 the one to bring you back ! " he repeated. •* To bring you back ! But there, what happened to you ? I know tlirit they set you down in the road. We learned that at Bristol this af'tenioon from tl;e villains who carried you oH'." She told him how they had found Mr. Tomeroy's house, and had taken shelter there, and " " Yoa have been there until now ? " he said in amaze- ment. " At u gentleman's hou. e ? But did you not think, ch.ild, that we should be anxious ? Were there no horres ? No servants? Didn't you think of sending word to Marlborough ? " " He was a villain," she answered, shuddering. Brave as she was, Mr. Pomeroy had succeeded in frightening h.r. "He would not let me go. And if Mr. Thomasson had not stolen the key of the room and released nie, and brought me to the gate to-night, and put me in with you " •' But how did he know that I was passing ? " Mr. Fish- wick cried, thrusting back his wig and iubbit,g his head in perplexity. He could not yet believe that it was chance, and chance only, that brought them together. - And she was equally ignorant. "I don't know," she said. " He only told m —that he would ' waiting at tlie gite." "And why did he not come with yoa ? " •* He said — I think he said he was under obligations to Mr. Pomeroy." " Pomeroy ? Pomeroy ? " the lawyer repeated slowly. 'But sure, my dear, if he was a villain, still having :he it've a carnage mswered ; rc-entcre-i declaro I hink t!i:it ted. "To yoa ? I ed that at you off." y's house, 11 amazG- lot think, 3 horrc's ? word to Bravo as ling h r. Lssou had me, and in wi:h ^r. Fis!i- head in ; chance, 3W," she carriage iticris to slowly. »'iug he IN THE CARRIAGE. 827 clergyman with you you should have been safe. This Mr. Pomeroy was not in the sumo case as Mr. Dunborough. He could not have been deep in love after knowing tou a dozen hours." " I think," she said, but mechanically, as if her mind ran on something else, " that he knew who I was, and wished to make me marry him." "Who you were !" Mr. Fishwick repeated ; and-and he groaned. The sudden check was strange, and Julia should have remarked it. But she did not ; and after a short silence. How could he know ? " Mr. Fishwick asked faintly. "I don't know," she answered, in the same abs-mt manner. Then with an effort which was apparent in her tone, " Lord Almeric Doyley was there," she said. " He was there too." "Ah!" the lawyer replied, accepting the fact with remarkable apathy. Perhaps his thoughts also were fur away. " He was there, was he ? " "Yea," she said. «'He was there, and he " then in a changed tone, "Did you say that Sir George was behind us ? " & "He should be," he answered : and, occu])i(d as she was with her own trouble, she was struck with the gloom of the attorney's tone. "We settled," he continued, "as soon as we learned where the men had left you, that I should start tor Calne and make inquiries there, and they should start an hour later f< v Chippenham and do the same there. Which reminds me that we should be nearing Calne. You would like to rest there ? " "I would rather go forward to Marlborough," she answered feverishly, "if you could send to Chippenham to .•e.. them I am sufe ? I would rather go back at once, and quietly." 828 THE CASTLE INN. w. u i i M "i 1 3i 4 'i kilM "To be sure," he pnid, patting her hand. " To be sure, to be sure," he repeated, his voice phaking as if he wrestled with some emotion. "You'll bo glad to be with — with your mother." Julia wondered a little at his tone, bnt in the main ho had described her feelings. She had gone through so many things that, courageous as she was, kIic longed for rest and a little time to think. She absented in silence therefore, and, wonderful to relate, he fell silent t'^o, and remained so until they reached Calne. There the inn was roused ; a messenger was despatched to Chippenham ; and while a relay of horses was prepared he made her enter the house and eat and drink. If ad he stayed at that, and preserved when he re-entered th' jnrringe the discreet silence he had maintained before, it is probable that she would have fallen asleep in sheer weariness, and deferred to the calmer hours of the morning the problem that occupied her. But as they settled themselves in their corners, and the carriage rolled out of the town, the attorney muttered that ho did not doubt Sir George would be at Marlborough to breakfast. This set the girl's mind running. She move 1 restlessly, and presently, " When did you hear what had happened to me ? " she asked. " A few minutes after you were carried off," he answered ; " but until Sir George appeared, a quarter of an hour later, nothing was done." " And he started in pursuit ? " To hear it gave her a delicious thrill between pain and pleasure. •'Well, at first, to confess the truth," Mr. Fishwick answered humbly, " I thought it was his doing, and " " You did ? " bhe cried in surprise. " Yes, I did ; even I did. And until we met Mr. Dun- borough, and Sir George got the truth from him — I had no certainty. More shame to me !" IN THE CARRIAGE. 329 'o be sure, le wrestled ?ith — with 3 main ho h 80 many >r rest and tlicreforc, imaincd so roused ; a d while a tlie liQuso preserved •e he had lave fallen nier lionrs ut as they ige rolled e did not breakfast, lessly, and I to me ? » mswered ; lOur later, ave her a Fish wick ,nd " Mr. Dun- -I had no She bit her lips to keep back the confession that rose to them, and for a little while was silent. Then, to his astonishment, " Will ho ever forgive mc ?" she cri'«rl, her voice tremulous. " ilow shall [ tell him ? I was mad— I must have been mad." " My dear child," tlio attorney answered in alarm, "com- pose yourself. What i? it? What is the matter ? " " I, too, thought it was he ! I, even I. 1 thought that he wanted to rid himself of me," pho cried, j^nuring forth her confeFsion in shame and abasement. "Vhore! I ciin hardly bear to tell you in the dark, and how sl.'nU i >ell him iu the light ? " *' I.H-tut ! " i\rr. Fish wick answered. " What need to tell an.' one ? Thoughts are free." "Oh; but "—she laughed hystcricfdly— " I was not five, ■ id 1— what do you think I did ? " Slie was growing more and more excited. " Tuc-t'it ! " the lawyer said. " What matter ? " " I promised— to marry some one else." " Good Lord ! " he said. The words were forced from him. " Some one else ! " she repeated, " I was asked to be my lady, and it tempted mc ! Think ! It tempted me," she continued with a second laugh, bitterly contemptuous. " Oh, what a worm— what a thing I am ! It tempted me. To be my lady, and to have my jewels, and to go to Raiie- lagli and the mnsqueradcs 1 To have my box at the King's House and my frolic in tlie pit I And my woman as ugly as I liked— if he might have my lips 1 Think of it, think of it I That any one should be so low ! Or no, no, no I " she cried in a different tone. " Don't believe me ! I am not that ! I am not so vile ! But I thought he had tricked me, I thought he had ehoatcd mo, I thought that this was his work, and I was mad 1 I think I was mad." 830 THE CASTLE INN. I m nBs.a..i« « Dear, dear," Mr. Fishwick said, rubbing his head. His tone was sympathetic ; yet, strange to relate, there was no real smack of sorrow in it. Nay, an acute ear might have caught a note of relief, of hope, almost of eagerness. " Dear, dear, to be sure I " he continued ; " I suppose— it was Lord Almeric Doyley, the nobleman I saw at Oxford ? " u Yes ! " "And you don't know what to do, child ?" "To do? "she exclaimed. " Which— I mean which you sliall accept. Really," Mr. Fishwick continued, his brain succumbing to a kind of vertigo as he caught himself balancing the pretensions of Sir George and Lord Almeric, "it i. a very remarkable position for any young lady to enjoy, however "born. Such a choice " «« Choice!" she cried fiercely, out of the darkness. ♦^ There is no choice. Don't you understand ? I told him No, no, no, a thousand times No 1 " Mr. Fishwick sighed. "But I understood you to say," he answered meekly, " that you did not know what to do." " How to tell Sir George I How to tell him." Mr. Fishwick was silent a moment. Then he said earnestly, " I would not tell him. Take my advi.-e, cliild. No harm has been done. You said No to the other." " I said Yes," she retorted. " IJut I thought " "And then I suid No," she cried, between tears and foolish laughter. "Cannot you understand ? " Mr. Fishwick could not ; but, "Any way, do not tell him," he said. "There is no need, and before marriage men think much of that at which they laugh afterwards." " And much of a woman of whom they think nothing afterwards," she answered. " Yet do not tuli him," he pleaded. From the sound of IN THE CAERIAGE. 331 his Toice she knew that he was leaning forward. " Or at least wait. Take the advice of one older than you, who knows the world, and wait." "And talk to him, listen to him, smile on his suit with a lie in my heart ? Never I " she cried. Then with a new strange pride, a faint touch of stateliness in her tone, "You forget who I am, Mr. Fishwick," she said. " I am p.a much a Soane as he is, and it becomes me to— to remember that. Believe me, I would far rather resign all hope of entering his house, though I love him— t'an enter it with a secret in my heart." Mr. Fishwick groaned. He told himself that this wonl 1 be the last straw. This would give Sir George the han;lle he needed. She would never enter that house. " I have not been tme to iiim," she said. " But I will be true now." "Tlie truth is— is very costly," Mr. Fishwick murmured almost under his breath. " I don't know that poor people can ahva\s afford it, child." " For shame ! " she cried hotly. « For shame ! But there," she continued, " I know you do not mean it. I know that what you bid me do you would not do yourself. AVould you have sold my cause, would you have hidden the truth for thousands? If Sir George had come to you to bribe you, would y(»u have taken anything ? Any sum, however large ? I know you would not. My life on it, you would not. You arc an honest man," she cried warmly. The homst n;an was silent awhile. Presently he looked out of the carriage. The moon had risen over Savcrnake ; by its light he saw that they were passing Man ton village. In the vale on the right tlie tower of Preshute Church, lifting its head from a dark bower of trees, spoke a solemn language, seconding hcvB. " God bless vou i " he said in a low voice. " God bless you." 332 THE CASTLE INN. A minute later the horsos swerved to the right, and half a dozen lights keeping vigil in the C.istle Inn gleamed out along the dark front. The post-chaise rolled across the open, and drew up before the door. Julia's strange journey was over. Its stages, sombre in the retrospect, rose before her as she stepped from the carriage ; yet, had she known all, the memories at which she shuddered would have worn a darker hue. But it was not until a late hour of the following morning that even the lawyer heard what had happened at Chippenham. iM ■' J , and half amed out cross the e journey )se before le known lave worn ur of the what had CHAPTER XXXIV. BAD NEWS. The attorney entered the Mastersons' room a little before eleven next morning ; Julia was there, and Mrs. Masterson. The latter on seeing him held up her hands in dismay. *' Lord's sakes, Mr. Fishwick ! " the good woman ericd, " why, you are the ghost of yourself ! Adventuring does not suit you, that's certain. But I don't wonder. I am sure I have not slept a wink these three nights that I have not dreamt of Bessy Canning and that horrid old Squires; which, she did it without a doubt. Don't go*to say you've bad news this morniug." Certain it was that Mr. Fishwick looked woefully depressed. The night's sleep, which had restored the roses to Julia's cheeks and the light to her eyes, had done nothing for him ; or perhaps he had not slept. His eyes avoided the girl's look of inquiry. " I've no news this u:orning," he said awkwardrly. " And yet I have news." '*Bad ? " the girl said, nodding her comprehension; and her colour slovvlv faded. " Bad," he said gravely, looking down at the table. Julia took her fostermother'shatid in hers, and patted it ; they were sitting side by side. Tlie elder woman, whose face was still furrowed by the tears she had shed iu her bereavement, began to tremble. "Tell us," the girl said bravely. " What is it ? " ♦•God help me," Mr. Fishwick answered, his face quivering. 334 THE CASTLE INN. .Jj, '' ! ^HBIHl^s i "iWi '3;'%' III jmis " I don^t know liow I shall tell you. I don't indeed. But I must." Then, in a voice harsh with pain, " Child, I have made a mistake," lie cried. " I am wrong, I was wrong, I liave been wrong from the beginning. God help me ! And God help us all ! " The elder woman broke into frightened weeping. The younger grew pale and paler : grew presently whire to the lips. Still her eyes met his, and did not flinch. "Is it —about our case ? " she whispered. " Yes ! Oh, my dear, will you ever forgive me ? " " About my birth ? " He nodded. " I am not Julia Soane ? Is that it ? " He nodded again. "Not a Soane— at oil ?" "No ; God forgive me, no ! " She continued to hold the w. cping woman's hand in hers, and to look at him ; but for a long minute she seemed not even to breathe. Then in a voice that, notwithstanding the effort she made, sounded harsh in his ears, "Tell me all," she muttered. *l suppose— you have found something ! " ''I have," he said. He looked old, and worn, and shabby; and was at once the surest and the saddest corroboration of his own tidings. "Two days ago, I found, by accident, in a church at D>istol, the death certificate of the— of the child." " Julia Soane ? " " Yes." "Uut thou— who am I.--" she asked, her eyes growing wild : the world was turning, turning with her. "Her husband," he auhwered, nuddiug towards Mrs. Masterson. '• «dont<'d u diiiii in Tii...... ..v *i,.. j...j ...j i- ' i'lw.v vx lU-c ucau UUC, tiliU said nothing. Whether he intended to pass it off for the BAD NEWS. 836 But have ug, I And Mrs. child entrusted to him, I don't know. He never ma^le any attempt to do so. Perhaps," the lawyer continued drearily, he had It in his mind, and when the time came his heart lulled hira." *' And I am that child ? " Mr Fishwick looked away guiltily, passing his ton^-uo over his ips. He was the picture of shame and remorse! ' Yes, he said. "Your fath..- and mother were French He was a teacher of French at Bristol, his wife French from Canterbury. No relations are known." "My name .? " she asked, smiling piteously. _ " Par6," he said, spelling it. And he added, « They call it Parry." *' She looked round the room in a kind of terror not unmixed with wonder. To that room they had retired to review their plans on their first arrival at the Castle Inn- when all smiled on them. Thither they had fled for refuge f i^' ''^■"'^^ '''^^^ Lady Dunborough and the rencontre uith Sir George. To tiiat room she had betaken herself in the first flush and triumph of Sir George's suit ; and there surrounded by the same objects on which she now gazed' she had sat, rapt in rosy visions, through the livelong day preceding her abduction. Then she had been a gentle- woman, an heiress, the bride in prospect of a gallant gentleman. Now ? What wonder th-it, as she looked round in dumb misery recognising these t iings, her eyes grew wild again ; or that the shrinking lawyer expected an outburst. It came, but from another quarter. The old woman rose and, trembling pointed a palsied finger at him. " Yo' eat your words ' "' Bhe said. "Yo' eat your words and seem to like them But didn't yo' t^ll me no farther back than thi. day five "•• - .:;a. Liiu iiiw was cieur f Didn't yo' tell m» ^ wiis certain ? Yo' tell me that 1 " 336 THE CASTLE INN. "I did! God forgive mc," Mr. Fishwick murmured from the depths of his abasement. " Didn't yo' tell me fifty tirnea, and fifty times to that, that the ease was clear ? " the old wohm coiHmi.ed relent- lessly. "That there were thousands and tliouBar.fai to be had for the asking? Ai^d her sig^it Itesidcs., tb it. no one could cheat her of, rio more than ine of the things my man left me ? " " I diu, God foj;r ■^•v me ! " the lawyer said. " Rut yo' did cheat me ! " she continued with quavering insistence, 1; ^r withered ilice faintly pink. *' Where is the home yo' ha' broken up ? V'aere ure the things my man left me? Where's the bit that should ha' kept me from the narish ? Where's the fifty-two pounds yo' sold all for and isa' spent on us, living whore's no place for us, at our betters' table ? Yo' ha' broki u my heart ! Yo' ha' laid up sorrow and sullering for the gui that is dearer to me than my heart. Yo' ha' done all tliat, and yo' can come to me smoothly, and tell Uie yo' ha* wade a mistake. Yo' are a rogue, and, what maybe is worse, I mistrust me yo' are a fool!" " Mother ! mother ! " the girl cried. •' He is a fool ! " the old woman repeated, eyeing him with a dreadful sternness. "Or he would ha' kept his mistake to himself. AVho knows of it ? Or why should he be telling them ? 'Tis for them to find out, not for him ! Yo' call yourself a lawyer ? Yo' are a fool ! " And she sat down in a palsy of senile passion. " Yo' are a fool ! And yo' ha' ruined us ! " Mr. Fishwick groaned, but made no reply. He had not the spirit to defend himself. But Julia, as if all through which she had gone siuce the day of her reputed father's ^nofh had led her to this r>oiiit» only that she might show the stuff of which she was wrought, rose to the emergency. BAD NEWS. 337 aurmured 8 to that, id relent- ^{ii!: to be it no one ; my man [quavering lere is the my man i from the [I for and s, at our la' laid up me than me to me Yo' are a yo' are a feing him kept his should he b for him ! ad she sat ol! And 3 had not 1 through d father's i^ht show mergency. "Mother," ghe said firmly, her hand resting on the older woman's shoulder, "you are wrong — you are quite wrong. He would have ruined us indeed, he would have ruined us hopelessly and for ever, if he had kept silence ! He has never been so good a friend to us as lie has shown himself to-day, and I thank him for his courage. And I honour him ! " She held out her hand to Mr. Fishwick, who having pressed it, his face working ominously, retired to the window. " But, my deary, what will yo' do ? " Mrs. Masterson cried peevishly. " He ha' ruined us ! " " What I should have done if we had never made this mistake," Julia answered bravely ; though her lips trembled and her face was white, and in her heart she knew that hers was but a mockery of courage, that must fail her the moment she was alone. " "We are but fifty pounds worse than we were." " Fifty pounds ! " the old woman cried aghast. " Yo talk easily of fif y pounds. And, Lord knows, it is soon spent here. But where will yo' get another ? " " Well, well," the girl answered patiently, " that is true. Yet we must make the best of it. Let us make the best of it," she continued, apiiealing to them bravely, yet with tears in her voice. " We are all losers together. Let us bear it together. I have lost most," she continued, her voice trembling. Fifty pounds? Oh, God! what was fifty pounds to what she had lost. " But perhaps I deserve it. I was too ready to leave you, mother. I was too ready to — to take up with new things and — and richer things, and forget those who had been kin to me and kind to me all my life. Perhaps this is my punishment. You have lost your all, but that we will get agam. And our friend here ?»--j I'w"^-, iittc xuci;, Mr. Fishwick, standing, dogged and downcast, by tke C.I. z 838 THE CASTLE INI^. ■Ml it 'it ■window, did not Bay what he had lost, but his thoughts went to his old mother at Wallingford and the empty stocking, and the weekly letters he had sent her for a month past, letters full of his golden prospects, and the great case of Soane v. Soane, and the grand things that were to come of it. What a home-commg was now in store for him, his last guinea spent, his hopes wrecked, and Wallingford to be faced ! There was a brief silence. Mrs. Masterson sobbed querulously, or now and again uttered a wailing complaint : the other two stood sunk in bitter retrospect. Presently, "What must we do ?" Julia asked in a faint voice. " I mean, what step must we take ? Will you let them know ? " " I will see them," Mr. Fishwick answered, wincing at the note of pain in her voice. "I — I was sent for this morning, for twelve o'clock. It is a quarter to eleven now." She looked at hira, startled, a spot of red in each ciieek. " We must go away," she said hurriedly, " while we have money. Can we do better than return to Oxford ? " The attorney felt sure that at the worst Sir George would do something for her : that Mrs. Masterson need not lament for her fifty pounds. But he had the delicacy to ignore this. "I don't know," he said mournfully. "I dare not advise. You'd be sorry. Miss Julia — any one would be sorry who knew what J have gone through. I've suffered— I can't tell you what I have suffered — the last twenty-four hours ! I shall never have any opinion of myself again. Never ! " Julia sighed. " We must cut a month out of our lives," she murmured. But it was something else she meant — a month out of her heart I thoughts le empty her for a and the lings that w in store 3ked, and 1 sobbed omplaint : Presently, oice. " I Q know ? " wincing at t for this ven now." ich cheek. 3 we have • >rge would need not lelicacy to fully. "I —any one igh. I've —the last Dpinion of Dur lives," meant — a CHAPTER XXXV. DORMITAT IIOMERUS. IP Julia's return in the middle of the night balked the curiosity of some who would fain have had her set down at the door that they might enjoy lier confusion as she passed through the portico, it had the advanta;;c, appreciated by others, of leaving room for conjecture. Before breakfast her return was known from one end of the Castle Inn to the other ; within half an hour a score had i>;ivatc infor- mation. Sir George had brought her b;ick, after marrying her at Salisbury. The attorney had brought her back, and both were in custody, charged with stealing Sir George's title-deeds. Mr. Thomasson had brought her Ijack ; he had wedded her at Calne, the reverend geni.tiuan himself performing the ceremony with a curtain-i-ing at a (piartcr before midnight, in the presence of two chauibermaids, in a room hung with drab moreen. Sir George's servant had brought her back ; he was ttie rogue in the play ; it was Lady Harriet Wentworth and footman Sturgeon over again. She had come back in a Flemish hat and a white cloth Joseph with black facings ; she had come back in her night- rail ; she had come back in a tabby gai:.i:;, with a lace head and lappets. Nor were there wanting other rumours, of an after-dinner Wilkes-and-Lord-Sandwich flavour, which we refrain from detailing ; but which the Castle Inn, after the mode of the eighteenth century, discussed with freedom in a mixed company. Z 2 J;'40 THE CASTLE INN. Uj, Of nil these reports and the excitement wliich they created in iin assemblage weary of ^Yaiting on the great i.i.^n'd rocoveiy and in strnits for entertainment, tlio attorney incw nothing until he net forth to k' cp the appointment in Lord Chatham's apartments, which, lonpr the object of desire, now set his teeth on edge. Nor need ue have learned much of them then ; for he had only to cross the bbby of the east wing, and was in view of the hall barely three secoi- ^i.i, unlii'-kily, Lady Dunboroiigh, r';u'kling shrewishly with a kindred dowager, caught sight of him as he passed ; and in a Lrioc her old limbs bore her iu pursuit. Mr. Fishwick heard liis name called, had the weakness to turn, and too late found that he had fallen into the clutches of his ancient enemy. Tlie absence of her son's name from the current rumours had relieved the Viscountess of her worst fears, and left her free to enjoy herself. Seeing his dismay, "La, man ! I am not goirg to eat you ! " she cried ; for the lunver, nervous and profoundly dispirited, r"n'^;, shrank before Iier. " So you have brought back your fine madam, I henr ? And made an honest woman of li r ! " Mr. Fishwick glared at her, but did nt L answer. " I knew what would come of pushing out of you place, my lad!" she conmiued, nodding complacent.^. "Ii, wasn't likely sli 'd behave herself. When the master is away tl man will play, an: the maid too. I mind me perfect i^> of the groom. A saucy fell-w and a match for her ; 'tis to bo hoped he'll beat some beuse into her. "Was she tied po at Calnr '" *' No ! Mr. Fishwick blurted, wincing under her words ; which hurt him a hundred times more sharply than if the girl had been wh; ' he had thought her. Then he might ha.> ' vu-f^ od at the snc '• and the suite that dictated it Nov st .hing like tbib all the world would say. vhich they 1 the great ho attorney ppointuieiit e object of ave learned the bbhy )arely throe , cackling ?ht of him •ore lier iu }, had the fallen into Qi rumours ind left her nan ! I am cr, nervous ]icr. mr? "So And r. you ice, master is ' mind me match for her. Was ler words ; !ian if the he might .ict&fcsd it. DORMITAT H0ME11U8. 341 The "Viscountess eyed him cunnin?;ly, her head on one side. "Was it at Salisbury, then ? " who cried " AVlierover 'twas, I hear she had need of haste. Or wn.s it at Hristol ? I) 'you hear me speak to you, man ? " she continued impatiently, " Out with it." "At neither," he cried. My lady's eyes sparkled with rage. •' Iluity-toity ! " she answered. " D'you say No to me in that fashion ? I'll thank you to mend your manners, Fisliwiek, and remember to whom you are speaking. Ilurk ye, sirrah, is she Sir George's cousin or is she not ? " ''She is not, my lady," the attorney muttered mieerably. "But she is married ?" "No," he said ; and with that, unable to bear more, he turned to fly. She caught him by the sleeve. " Not married ? " she cried, grinning with ill-natured glee. " xXot marri* d ? And been oif three days with a man ! Lord, 'tis a story as bald as Granby ! She ought to be whipped, the hussy ! Do you hear ? She ought to the Roundhouse, and you with her, sirrah, for passing her olFou us ! " But that was more than the attorney, his awe of the peerage notwithstanding, could put up with. " God for/^^ive you!" he cried. "God forgive y* u, ma'am, your hard heart ! " She was astonished, " Y. n impudent fellow ! " she exclaimed. "Wuat do you km of God ? And how dare you name Him in the i- ime breath with mc ? D'yoi, think He'd have people of qu ay ^f Methodists and live as the like of you ? God, indeed Jang your impudence ! I say, she should to the Roundhouse — and von, too, for a vagabond ! And so you shall ! " Tlie lawyer ah' k with rage '• The less ^our ladyship tulkfl of the Roundhouse," he answer 1, his voica tremuling, * » 842 'rflfi uASTLE INN. "tlie better ! Thcro'M ono is in it now \\\n may go farther and fnro worse — to your so? row, my lady ! " " Yoii rogue ! " she cried. '• Do you threaten me ? " ** I threaten no one," he answered. " jlufc } ur son, Mr. Diinborjiij^h, killud a man last night, and liod in custody at Chippcuham at this very time ! I sny no more, my lady ! " Ke had «aid enough. My huly glared; then began to »hako in Iilu turr>. Yet her spirit was not easily quelled ; and "You lie!" she cried shrilly, the f-tick, with which she vainly strove to steady herself, rattling on the floor. "Who dares to say that my son has killed a man ? " " It is known," the attorney answered. "Who— who is it ?" "Mr. Pomeroy of Bastwick, a gentleman living near Calne." "In a duel! 'Twas in a duel, vou lying fool!" sho retorted lioarsely. "You are trying to scare me! Say 'twas in a duel and I— Fil forgive you." " They phut tlicmselvea up in a roDm, and there were no seconds," tha lawj-er answcre 1, beginning to pity her. " I believe that Mr. Pomeroy gave the provocation, and that may bring your ladyship's son off. But, on the other hand " "On the other hand, what ? Wiuit ? " she mntterfni " Mr. Dunborough had horsewhipped a man that was in the other's company." "A man?" " It was Mr. Thomasson." Her ladysliii/s hands went up. Perhaps she remembered that but for her the tutor would not have been there. Then " Sink you ! I wi^h he had flogged you all ! " she shrieked, t\T\i.. ..nrnsTig Svitny, "he wcsu mumbsing aiiu cursing uowb the stairs, the luce lappets of her head trembling, and her DORMITAT HOMERUS. ^4.3 gold-headed cano now thumping tho floor, now wavinp- uncertainly in tho air. A qnnrter of an hour earlier, in the apartments for which ^fr. Fifiliwick was bound when her iadyshi?) intercepted him, two men stood talking at a window. The room was the best in the Castle Inn— a lofty pnnelled chamber with a southern aspect looking upon the smooth sward and sweet- briar hedges of Lady Hertford's terrace, and commanding beyond these a distant view of the wooded slopes of Savernake. The men spoke in subdued tone?, and more than once looked towards the door of an adjacent room, as if they feared to disturb some one. "Uy dear Sir George," the elder said, after he had listened patiently to a lengthy relation, in the course of which he took snufF a dozen times, "your mind is quite made up, I suppose ? " "Absolutely." " Well, it is a remarkable series remarkable series," Dr. Addington fessional gravity. "And certainly, if the lady is all you paint her — and she seems to set you young bloods on fire — no ending could well be more eatisfactory. With the addition of a comfortable place in the Stamps or the Pipe Office, if we can take his lordship the right way— it should do. It should do handsomely. But," with a keen glance at his companion, " even without that— you know that he is still far from well ? " " I know that all the world is of one of two opinions," Sir George answered, smiling. " The first, that his lordship ails nothing save politically ; the other, that he is at death's door and will not have it known." The physician shrugged his shouldere contemptuously. of events; a— most answered with pro- 344 THE CASTLE INN. :^ 11 'I it ^' ■■ ,,, > n " Neither is true," he said. " The simple fact is, he has the gout ; and the gout is an odd thing, Sir George, as you'll know one of these days," with another sharp glance at his corapauion. "It flies here and there, and every- where." " And where is it now ? " Soane asked innocently. " It has gone to his head," Addington answered, in a tone so studiously jejune that Sir George glanced at him. The doctor, however, a{)peared unaware of the look, and merely continued : " So, if he does not take things quite as y Du wish. Sir George, you'll— but here his lordship comes ! " The doctor thought that he had sufficiently prepared Soane for a change in his patron's apiiearance. Neverthe- less, the younger man was greatly shocked when through the door, obsequiously opened — and held open while a man might count fifty, so that eye and mind grew expectant— the great statesman, the People's Minister, at length appeared. For the stooping figure that moved to a chair only by virtue of a servant's arm, and seemed the taller for its feebleness, for dragging legs and shrunken frame and features sharpened by illness and darkened by the great peruke it was the Earl's fashion to wear, he was in a degree prepared. But for the languid expression of the face that had been so eloquent, for the lack-lustre eyes and the dulness of mind that noticed little and heeded less, he was not prepared ; and these were so marked and so unlike the great minister — " A daring pilot in extremity Pleased with the danger when the waves went high " —so unlike the man whose eagle gaze had fluttered Courts and imposed the law on Senates, that it was only the presence of Lady Chatham, who followed her lord, a book and cushion in her hands, that repressed the exclamation Tti.iV*. ■ Vw vv ^Jli \jt-- — ll]j ■^ COmpictO Was tiiv chuiigQ I is, he has leorge, as arp glance ,nd every- sred, ill a d at him. look, and :s quite as I comes ! " prepared Nevcrthe- 1 through ile a man pectant— appeared. ' by virtue eebleness, sharpened the Earl's it for the quent, for it noticed liese were id Courts only the i, a book ilamation DORMITAT HOMERUS. 345 indeed that, as far as the Earl was concerned, he might have uttered it ! His lordship, led to the head of the table, sank without a word into the chair placed for him, and propping bis elbow on the table and his head on liis hand, groaned aloud. Lady Chatham compressed hei* lips with evident annoy- ance as she took her stand behind her husband's chair ; it was plain from the glance she cast at Soane that she resented the presence of u witness. Even Dr. Addington, with his professional sang-froid and his knowledge of the invalid's actual state, was put out of countenance for a moment. Then he signed to Sir George to be silent, and to the servant to withdraw. At last Lord Chatham spoke. " Tiiis business ?" he said in a hollow voice and without uncovering his eyca, "is it to be settled now ? " " If your lordship pleases," the doctor answered in a subdued tone. " Sir George Soane is there ? " " Yes." " Sir George," the Earl said with an evident effort, " I am sorry I cannot receive you better." •* My lord, as it is I am deeply indebted to your kind- ness." "Dagge finds no flaw in their case," Lord Chatham continued apathetically. *' Her la.lyship has read his report to me. If Sir George likes to contest the claim, it is his right." " I do not propose to do so." Sir George had not this time subdued his voice to tiie doctor's pitch ; and the Earl, whose nerves seemed alive to the slightest sound, winced visibly. ♦' That is your affair," he answered querulously. - At any rate the trustees do not propose to do so," 346 THE CASTLE INN. Sir George, speaking with more caution, replied that he acquiesced ; and then for a few seconds there was silence in the room, his lordship continuing to sit in the same attitude of profound melancholy, and the others to look at him with compassion , which they vainly strove to dissemble. At last m a voice little above a whisper, the Earl asked if the man was there. " He waits your lordship's pleasure," Dr. Addington answered. "But before he is admitted," the physician continued diffidently and with a manifest effort, " may I say a word, my lord, as to the position in which this places Sir George Soane ? " _ "I was told this morning," Lord Chatham answered, in the same muffled tone, "that a match had been arranged between the parties, and that things would remain as they were. It seemed to me, sir, a prudent arrangement." Sir George was about to answer, but Dr. Addington made a sign to him to be silent. "That is so," the physician replied smoothly. " But your lordship is versed in Sir George Soane's affairs, and knows that he must now go to his wile almost emi)ty-handed. In tiiese circumstances it has occurred rather to his frieiids than to himself, and indeed I speak against his will and by sulfeiance only, that— that in a word, my lord " ' Lord Ciiatham lowered his iiand as Dr. Addington paused. A faint flush darkened his lean aquiline features, set a ."wTf,.''?"''' ^^ t'»« "^^"1^1 "f J^opeless depression. Whati' he said. And he raised himself sharply in his chair. " What has occurred to his friends ? " '* That some provision might be made for him, my lord." " From the public purse ? " the Earl cried in a startling tone. '• Is that your meaning, sir ? " And, with the look m am eyes which had Iccu more dreaded by the Kigbys ' DORMITAT HOMERUS. 347 d that he silence in e attitude him with At last, the man ddincfton physician nay I say 'laces Sir .nswored, ad been s Avould prudent on made hysician 1 in Sir w go to les it has indeed I ■that, in paused. ?, set a •ression. i in his y lord." tartling he look Kigbys i and Dodingtons of his party than the most scathing rebuke from the lips of another, he fixed the unlucky doctor where he stood. "Is that your proposal, sir ? " ho repeated. The physician paw too late that ho had ventured farther than his interest would support him ; and he quailed. On the other hand, it is possible he had been neither so confident before, nor was so entirely crushed now, as api)eared. "Well, my lord, it did occur to mo," he stammered, " as not inconsistent with the public wellare." "The public welfare!" the minister cried in biting accents. " The public plunder, sir, you mean ! It were not inconsistent with that to quarter on the nation as many mined gentlemen as you please ! But you mistake if you bring the business to me to do— you mistake. I have dispersed thirteen millions of His Majesty's money in a yoni-, and would have spent us much again and as much to that, had the affairs of this nation required it ; but the gentleman is wrong if he thinks it has gone to my friends. My hands are clean," his lordship continued with an expressive gesture. «« I have said, in another place, none of it sticks to them. Vivtule me inrolvo I " And then, in a lower tone, but stilH with a note of austerity in 'his voice, "I rejoice to think," he continued, "that the gentleman was not himself the author of this application. I rejoice to think that it did not come from him. These things have been done freely ; it concerns me not to deny it; but since I had to do with His Majesty's exchequer, less freely. And that only concerns me ! " Sir George Soane bit his li[). He felt keenly the humiliation of his position. But it was so evident that the Earl was not himself— so evident that the tirade to which he had just listened vvas one of tho'.c outbursts, noble in sentiment, but verging on the impracticable and 348 THE CASTLE INN. the ostentatiouB, in which Lord Chatham was prone to indulge in his weaker moments, that he felt little incli- nation to resent it. Yet to let it pass unnoticed was impossible. " My lord," he said firmly, but with respect, " it is per- mitted to all to make an application which the custom of the time has sanctioned. That is the extent of my action— at tho hi<,'hest. The propriety of granting such requests is another matter and rests with your lordship. I have nothing to do with that." The Earl appeared to be as easily disarmed as he had been lightly aroused. «' Good hid ! Good lad ! " he muttered. " Addington is a fool !" Then drowsily, as his head sunk on his hand again, " The man may enter. I will tell him ! " prone to ttle incli- ticed was it is per- iUBtom of 1 action — Dquests is I have 18 he had ad!" he ily, as his T. I will CHAPTER XXXVI. THE ATTORNEY SI'EAKS. It was into an atmospliere highly charged, therefore, in which the lightning had scarcely ceased to play, and miglit at any moment dart its fires anew, that Mr. Fisliwick was introduced. The lawyer did not know this ; yet it was to be expected that without that knowledge lie would bear himself but ill in the company in which he now found him- self. But the task which he had come to perform raised him above himself ; moreover, tiiere is a point of depression at which timidity ceases, and he had reached this point. Admitted by Dr. Addington, he looked round, bowed stiffly to the physician, and lowly and with humility to Lord Chatham and her ladyship ; then, taking his stand at the foot of the table, he produced his papers with an air of modest self-possession. Lord Chatham did not look up, but he saw what vas passing. '« We have no need of documents," he said in the frigid tone which marked his dealings with all save a very few. « Your client's suit is allowed, sir, so far as the trustees are concerned. Timt is all it boots me to say." " I humbly thank your lordship," the attorney answered, speaking with an air of propriety which surprised Sir George. *' Yet I have with due submission to crave your lordship's leave to say somewhat." •Thore is no need," the Earl answered, ''the claim Ici^g aU:.w-t' There was a prolonged silence. •' Sir ' " Lord rh=,i„ Ba,d at l„.t_.Sir George Soauo, with hi ^-es on 2 fl " mi a deep flush on his face, seemed to he U „„I " Lk by this sudden change of front-" it appear .„ ,,,p ,k' , " ^ a Tcry honest man ! Yet let me aTk vou DM f " "" occur to you to conceal the factT" ^ " " "'''' Lheru';d,Ls, t«:;,.S;tputm::i"^ :."""« -"^ And I was afraid." ^ '^^^ '° ""« P°»«'''' "Don't put molasses in the punch t •• his Ior,l.l>;„ „• lated, with a liiely ciDro«,i.m „f . ' ■ T '°™'"P «Jaon- mad, sir ? " '■^1"^"»'<«» "f astmishment "Are you h»iy"^!;itrr„^c:: fi!i«"".'?^ — ^ can very wcU help itseirThe'-tiiin;';:: t^^grmtL^J 352 THE CASTLE INN. lord, nnd my client too honest. T thonglU, if it came out afterwards, the last state might be worse than the first. And — T could not see my way to keep it from her ; and that is the truth," he added candidly. The statesman nodded. Then, " D'usimulare etiam $prra»ti, perjidi^ tanfiim Posse nefas, tadtusquc meam subducerc tervam?" lie muttered in low yet sonorous tones. Mr. Fishwick stared. •' I beg your lordship's pardon," ho said. " I do not quite understand." " There is no need. And that is the whole truth, sir, is it?" "Yes, my lord, it is." " Very good. Vei-y good," Lord Chatham replied, pushing away the pajjcrs which the attorney in the heat of his argu- ment had thrust before liim. " Then there is an end of the matter as far as the trustees are concerned. Sir George, you have nothing to say, I take it ? " "No, I t'iank you, my lord— nothing here," Soane answered vaguely. His face continued to weir the dark flush which had overspread it a few minutes before. " This, I need not say, u an absolute surprise to me," he added. "Just so. It is an extraordinary story. Well, good- morning, sir," his lordship continued, addressing the attorney. " I believe you have done your duty. I believe yon have behaved very honestly. You will hear from me." Mr. Fishwick knew tliat he was dismissed, but after a glance aside, which allowed him Sir George standing in a brown study, he lingered. " If your lordship," he said desperately, " could see your way to do anything—for my client?" " For your client ? Why ? " the Earl cried, with a sudden return of uis gouty pccvialmcss. " Why, sir — why ? " came out the first. ; and that n nodded. ardon," he ith, sir, is 1, pushing ' his argu- Bnd of the iiorge, you J," Soane the dark }. "This, added. all, good- ising the I believe rom me." U after a ling in a he said — for my 1 a sudden THE ATTORNEY SPEAKS. 353 « She has been drawn," the lawyer muttered, " out of the position in which she lived, by an error, not hci lord own. my jurs t'» " Yes, my lord." "And why drawn ? " the Earl conlinued, rcgardinc- him severely. - 1 will toll you, sir. liccause you were no't con. tent to await the result of investi-ation, but must needs tiirust yourself iu the public eye ! You must needs assume a position before it was granted ! No, 8ir, I allow you honest ; I allow you to be well-meaning ; but your conduct lias been ludiscrcef, and your client must pay f ,r it. ]\r„re. over, I am in the position of a trustee, and can do nothin-r. You may go. sir." ° Mr. Fisinvick had after that no choice but to withdraw He did so ; and a moment later 8ir Cieorge, after paving his respects, followed him. Dr. Addington was clcar.'si.^hted enough to fear that his friend Imd gone after the lawyer, and as soon as he decently could, he wont hims.ilf in pursuit' lie was relieved to Jind Sir CIcorge alone, pacing the lloorof the room they shared. The idiysician took care to hide his real motive and his distrust of Soaue's discretion under a show of heartiness. My dear Sir George, I congratulate you!" he cried shaking the other eirusively by the hand. -Believe me, 'tis by lar the complotest way out of the dilliculty ; and tliou-h 1 am sorry for the-for the young lady, wlu seems to have behaved very honestly well, time brings its repentances as we 1 as its revenges. It is possible tlie match would hwe done tolerably well, assuming you to be equal in birth and lortnne But even then 'twas a risk ; 'twas a risk, my dear sir! And now " ^ it It is not to be thou'^htof, I and he looked at the other interrogatively, 8up!)ose ? " Sir George said O.I A A t..M. di)4 THE ('.laXLE INN. M t i l^Li& J "Good Lord, no!" tho pliysiciaii answered. "No, no, no ! '' ho uddcd v.ti^ihtily. Sir Goori(o Uvjddt'd, and, iirn'nj?, looked tliuu^htfdlly L!ii(>iij,'li the window. His face still wore a flush. " Yet, — souictliin;^ must be done fur her," he said in a low voice. *' I can't let her— hero, lead that.'' Dr. Addington took the opuu letter the other handed to him, antl, eyt'in;>' it with a frown while he lixed his glasses, ailerwards proceeded to peruse it. " Sir," it ran — it was i)itifully Bh< rt — " when I sought you I deemed myself olhcr than I am. Were 1 to seek yon now I should be other than I deem mysdf. We uict abruptly, and can part after the same fashion. This from one who claims to be no more than yuur wellwi.-hei. — JiUA." The doctor laid it down and took a pinch ofsnii''" "Good girl ! " he muttered. " Good girl. That— thai conlirms me. You must do something for her, Sir George. 11 .s she — how did you get that, by the way ? " " I found it on the table, f made inquiry, and heard that she left Marlboro' i.,i hour gone." " For ? " " I could not learn." "Good girl ! Good girl! Yea, certainly you must do something fur her." ** You think so ? " Sir George said, with a isuddeu queer look at the doctor. " Even you ? " " Even I ! An allowance of I was going to sugge8^. tilty guineas a year," Dr. Addington continued impulsively. " Now, after reading that letter, 1 say a hundi'ed. It is not too much, Sir George ! 'Fore Gad, it is not too much. But " " But what ? " The physician paused to take an elaborate pinch of snuff. "You'll furgive me/' !je answered. *' But before this ab-out ■■L "No, no, )n];htfiilly "Yol - low voice. bmidcJ to is glasses, ought } ou ^ou uow I iptly, and ho claims ^ "Good linns ine. she— how icardtimfc must do leu queer ' 8ugges^. nilsively. it isuot )o much. T THE ATTORNEY SPEAKS. 355 her bulh came out, i ,at yon were dolug, or going about to do the gul no . 1. Now, „,y dear Sir f: .r^o I am nut strnit-hiced," the U(x-(or continued, dustini,^ the sniiir Irom the lai.|>ct8 of his coat, « and I know v.i n well what your fnend, my Lonl March, would do In the cir'cumBtances And you have lived much with him, and think yonra-lf I dare mv. ar, no better. Hut you .ro. my dear nir-you are. though you imy not know it. You are wondering what I am at ? Inclined to take ojlence, eh ? Well, she's a good -irl Sir George "-he -npod the letter, which lav on the t^ible beside Inm-.- to, for that ! ,\„d you'll not lay it on your conscience, ^>o." " I will not," Si, George said quietly. " Good lad ! " Dr. Addington muttered, in the tone Lord Chatham had used ; for it is hard to be n)uch with the great without trying on their shoes. " Good lad ! Good hid ! " Soano did not appear to notice the tune. '• You tliink au allowance of a hundred guineas enough > " he said and looked at the other. ' "I think it very handsome." the doctor answered. D (J handsome." "Good!" Sir George rejoined. "Then Phe shall have that a lowance " ; nnd alter staling awl.il. ut the table he nodded assent to his thoughts and went out. of snuff. i.;« ,^u^.,t A A 2 MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 I4i I 5° III 2.8 IIIIM IIIM m 1.4 m 1 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.6 ^ /APPLIED IM/1GE Inc 1653 East Main Street Rochester. New York 14609 USA (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone (716) 288 - 5989 - Fax CHAPTER XXXVII. ' it 'vt A HANDSOME ALLOWANCE. The physician might not have deemed his friend so sensible —or so insensible— had he known that the young man pro- posed to make the offer of that allowance in person. Nor to Sir George Soane himself, when he alighted five days later before the George Inn at Wallingford, did the otfer seem the light and easy thing, " Of smiles and tears compuct," it had appeared at Marlborough. He recalled old clashes of wit, and here and there a spark struck out between them, that, alighting on the flesh, had burned him. Meanwhile the arrival of so flue a gentleman, travelling in a post-chaise and four, drew a crowd about the inn. To give the idlers time to disperse, as well as to remove the stains of the road, he entered the house, and, having bespoken dinner and the best rooms, inquired the way to Mr. Fishwick the attorney's. By this time his servant had blabbed his name ; and the story of the duel at Oxford k'ing known, with some faint savour of his fashion, the landlord was his most obedient, and would fain have guided his honour to the place cap in hand. Hid of him, and informed that the house he sought was neighbour, on tue farther side, of the Throe Tuns, near the bridge, Sir George strolled down the long clean street that leads paat Blackstone's Church, then in the building, to thq A HANDSOME ALLOWANCE. 357 so sensible f maa pvo- ■son. Nor five days L the otter Did clash 68 ween them, Meanwhile post-chaise 13 the idlers )f the road, ler and the attorney's. 2 ; and the some faint it obedient, jlacc cap in sought was IS, near the street that diug, to the river; Sinodun Hill and the Berkshire Downs, speakincj evening peace, behind him. Tie paused before a dozen neat houses with brass knockers and painted shutters, and took each in turn for the lawyer's. But when he came to tlie real Mr. Fishwick's, and found it a mere cottaj^e, white and decent, but no more than a cottage, he thought that he was mistaken. Then the name of "Mr. Peter Fishwick, Attorney- at-Law," not in the glory of brass, but painted iu white letters on the green door, undeceived him ; and, opening the wicket of the tiny garden, he knocked with the head of his cane on the door. The appearance of a stately gentleman in a laced coat and a sword, wailing outside Fishwick's, opened half the doors in the street ; but not that one at which Sir George stood. He had to knock again and again before he heard voices whispering inside. At last a step came tapping down the bricked passage, a bolt was withdrawn, tind an old woman, in a coarse brown dress and a starched mob, looked out. She betrayed no surprise on seeing so grand a gentleman, but told his honour, before he could speak, that the lawyer was not at home. "It is not Mr. Fishwick I want to see," Sir George answered civilly. Tlirough the brick passage he had a ghmpse, as through a funnel, of green leaves climbing on a tiny treillage, and of a broken urn on a scrap of sward. You have a young lady staying here ? " he continued. The (Id woman's stiff grey eyebrows grew together. "No ! " she said diarply. " Nothing of the kind ! " " A Miss Masterson." " No ! " she snapped, her face more and more forbidding. " "We have no Misses here, and no baggages for fine gentle- men ! You have come to the wrong house ! " And she tried to shut the door in his face. He was puzzled and a little affronted ; but he set his « 858 THE CASTLE INN. foot between the door aucl the post, and balked her. " One moment, my good woman," lie said. " Tliis is Mr. Fish- wick's, is it not ? " "Ay, 'tis," she answered, breathing hard with indig- nation. " But if it is him your honour wants to see, yon must come when he is at home. He is not at home to-day." "I don't want to see him," Sir George said, "i want to speak to the young lady who is staying here." '* And I tell you that there is no young lady staying here ! " she retorted wrathfu'ly. *' There is no sonl in the house but me and my scrviiig-girl, and she's at the wasli- tub. It is more like the Three Tuns you want ! There's a flaunting gipsy-girl there if you like— but the less said about lier tlie better." Sir George stood and stared at the woman. At last, on a sudden suspicion, " Is your servant from Oxford ? " he said. She seemed to consider him before she answered. '* Well, if she is ? " she said grudgingly. " What then ?" " Is her name Masterson ? " Again she seemed to hesitate. At last. " May be and may be not ! " she snapped, with a suiif of contempt. lie saw that it was, and for an instant the hesitation was on his side. Then, '• Let me come in ! " he said abruptly. " You arc doing your son's client little g-" '' by this ! " And when she had slowly and grudgingly Je way for him to enter, and the door was shut behind him '' Where is she ? " he asked almost savagely. ** Tiike me to her ! " The old dame muttered something unintelh'gible. Then, " She's in the back part," she feuid, ** but she'll not wish to see you. Don't blame me if she pins a clout to your skirts." Yet she moved aside, and the way lay open — down the brick passage. It must be confessed that for an instant, just one instant, Sir George wavered, his face hot j for the A HANDSOME ALLOWANCE. 359 Mr. Fish- :h indig- ) see, you ; to-day." "i want y staying ml in tliC the wiuli- Thore's less said last, on a " 1e said. . "Well, ly be and 3t. ation was abruptly , ly this !*" 13 way for ' Where is 'er ! " e. Then, :)t wish to t to your ■down the m instant, t ; for the third part of a second the dread of the ridiculous, the temptation to turn and go as he had come were on liim. Nor need he, for this, forfeit our sympathies, or cease to be a hero. It was the age, be it remembered, of the artificia!. Nature, swathed in perukes and ruffles, powder and patche?, and stifled under a hundred studied airs and grimaces, had much ado to breathe. Yet it did breathe ; and Sir George, after that brief hesitation, did go on. Thre.^ steps carried him down the passage. Another, and tiic broken urn and tiny treillage brought him up short, but on the grecnsw^ard, in the sunlight, with the air of heaven lanning his brow. The garden was a very duodecimo ; a singl;! glance sliowcd him its whole extent — and Julia. She was nob at