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FAITH HARROWBY.
FAITH HARROWBY
OR,
CIjx Smugglers' Cafo.
BY
SARAH DOUDNEY,
Author of " The Beautiful Island" " Under Grey Walls" &c.
LONDON :
SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION,
56, OLD BAILEY, E.C.
NEW YORK:
THOMAS NELSON AND SONS,
42, Bleecker Street.
1871.
LONDON :
J. AND W. KIDFK, PH1NTEBS,
BABTHOLOMEW CLOSE.
■PR
Contents.
4
CHAPTER I.
PAGR
THE DISCOVERY 1
CHAPTER II.
AN ADVENTURE 6
CHAPTER III.
MARGARET HOLT'S STORY . . . . . . .11
CHAPTER IV.
PERPLEXITY. — THE FALSE ACCUSATION 17
CHAPTER V.
CONFESSION. — A WRETCHED SUNDAY.— RELIEF AT HAND . 24
CHAPTER VI.
THE CLOUD PASSES AWAY 33
CHAPTER VII.
sir oscar's parteidges 43
737591
VI 11 CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VIII.
PAGE
THK TEXT ON THE TOMB 48
CHAPTER IX.
THE NETLEYS 53
CHAPTER X.
AN OLD FRIEND 60
CHAPTER. XL
THE SQUIRE OF MARKSBOURNE 66
CHAPTER XII.
violet's wedding 73
CHAPTER XIII.
sir oscar's intentions 78
CHAPTER XIV.
troubled waters 84
CHAPTER XV.
IN THE NET 90
CHAPTER XVI.
FAITH BREAKS THE NET 96
CHAPTER XVII.
MRS. NETLEY GOES HOME 101
CHAPTER XVIII.
"FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH" 107
CHAPTER XIX.
NOT DIVIDED 117
FAITH HAEEOWBY;
OK,
&\t Smugglers' Cabe.
CHAPTEE I.
THE DISCOVEEY.
ES," said Faith Harrowby, "aunt
Dorcas is very harsh in her judg-
ments — very harsh indeed."
Faith was fourteen years of age,
a clever, clear-headed girl, with a
warm heart and a strong will of her own.
There was a determined look in her deep-
set, dark eyes, and an expression of quiet
resolution about the outlines of her mouth
and chin. And as she spoke, her handsome
brown face was flushed with suppressed
feeling.
"Of course poor Tom was greatly to
blame," said Violet, who was two 'years
younger than her sister ; " he oughtn't to
have touched his master's money."
" Oh no, I don't mean to excuse the
theft, for it was a theft, although he in-
tended to restore the sum ; but it was his first offence,
B
FAITH HAEROWBY ; OR,
and I think aunt Dorcas need not have spoken of it so
harshly to the poor fellow's own mother !"
" That's just her way," rejoined Violet ; " she has a
fashion of stiffening her face when she's going to reprove
anybody. If she only knew how dreadfully hard and
unpleasant she looked at such times she'd never do it
again."
"She doesn't care about her looks," said Faith, sagely;
" she's gone past all that sort of thing."
The two girls were walking rapidly over a wide com-
mon, covered with short, thymy grass, which made the
turf elastic under foot. A few cattle were scattered
browsing here and there, but there was no human
habitation in sight, although one or two charred and
blackened spots on the sod betokened the recent en-
campment of gipsies. They went their way silently,
absorbed in thinking about Tom Warner and his diffi-
culties.
Tom was a fine, intelligent lad, the brother of their
own maid Eliza. He had lately obtained a situation as
junior clerk in a merchant's office, and appeared at first
to have given much satisfaction to his employer. But
trouble came to the Warners in the person of John, the
eldest son, who was the black sheep of the family. This
scapegrace, after causing his friends great uneasiness,
finally enlisted, and having taken the Queen's shilling,
instantly repented of the freak. And foolish Tom,
anxious to get his brother out of the scrape, took his
master's money to buy John's release, intending to pay
back the sum.
Perhaps, in the end, it was well for Tom that this, his
THE SMUGGLERS CAVE. 6
first act of dishonesty, was discovered ; his punishment
was just, but severe, for although his employer refrained
from prosecuting him, he was summarily dismissed, and
branded as a thief. Mrs. Warner came to tell Eliza the
bad news, and had ventured to ask aunt Dorcas to say
a word in the boy's favour. But this Miss Harrowby
refused to do, at the same time giving utterance to such
hard things, that the poor widow went away weeping,
and Faith was filled with burning indignation.
The common terminated abruptly, leading off upon a
white and dusty high road, furrowed deeply with the
tracks of wheels. Along the road-side the footpath
gradually rose higher and higher, until it ceased to run
parallel with the main way, ascending the steep sides of
a range of chalk hills. The girls climbed this path,
following it as far as it went, and then pursued their
course up the downs, with the strong, fresh breeze
blowing full into their faces.
Far beneath them, the feet of the hills were girdled
with fertile fields, varying from shades of rich green to
the golden brown of the newly turned soil ; the after-
noon sunshine lay there, warm and still, and the
floating cloud-shadows crossed them at intervals ; there
was nothing to break their absolute quiet and repose.
Farther off were scattered villages and farms, and the
spires of three churches rose above the trees ; then
came the wide blue expanse of the sea, and the faint
line between sky and ocean.
" I like it very much," said Violet, when she had
gazed for some moments. "But I think I prefer the
other side of this hill, Faith."
4 FAITH HARROWBY; OK,
"All, yes, you are so fond of looking at the old
castle," rejoined her sister, rising. " Let us go and sit
where we can see it."
They walked across the summit of the hill, a broad,
level platform covered with springy turf. From this
point the horizon line was formed by a long reach of land,
with the sea washing its sides, and midway between
this distant boundary and the shores nearest to them
stood a ruined castle, rising apparently out of the water.
" I wish I knew the history of that old place," re-
marked Violet.
There was a pause which lasted for some minutes,
and then Faith roused herself from a fit of musing, and
came suddenly back to the subject.
" I can tell you something about that castle, Violet.
It was once the favourite haunt of a party of smugglers,
who managed for a Ions; while to defeat the vigilance of
the coastguard. In those clays the water used to come
almost to the base of this hill, for the sea, you know, is
always giving and taking."
" But the smugglers ? "
" Well, it is said that they used to hide their booty
somewhere among these hills, until they could seize an
opportunity of conveying it to the castle. The coast-
guard would try to intercept them before they reached
their principal stronghold, and then they had desperate
encounters, like those which Sir Walter Scott describes
in ' Guy Mannering.' "
"But how could they hide their plunder here?"
" They dug caves in the chalk, and buried their stores
of rum and brandy in them, closing up the entrances
THE SMUGGLERS CAVE.
5
with turf, and leaving some clue by which they might
know the spot again."
"And don't those caves exist still ?"
" Yes, Mr. Brixton says that the lime-burners have
come upon them sometimes, and that relics of the smug-
glers have been found in them."
"What relics?"
" Nothing of value, only empty casks and the like."
CHAPTEK II.
AN ADVENTURE.
Jj. HE afternoon was on the wane, and the
f\\ girls began to think of turning their steps
homewards, but the cool, fragrant air, and
lovely landscape tempted them to linger,
and they strayed hither and thither about the hills,
FAITH HARROWBY; OE, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 7
running races down their sides. At last, Violet, who
was usually the first to tire of sport, flung herself
down in a sheltered spot between two stunted bushes
of gorse, and declared that she could not attempt the
homeward walk without a few minutes' rest.
" Well, don't stay too long," said Faith.
Violet, still panting and exhausted, leaned back upon
the turf, resting her whole weight upon one elbow.
Behind her the hill-side rose abruptly to a considerable
height, and at her feet was a smooth piece of level
ground ; it was altogether as comfortable a resting-
place as she could have desired.
"Faith," she cried, suddenly, "what's this? My
arm is sinking into the sod !"
She raised herself as she spoke, showing that the
turf behind her was pressed inwards. Faith instantly
stooped down, and doubling her fist, thumped the in-
dented spot lustily, until the ground gave way before
her blows, affording a glimpse of a dark cavity.
" Eeally," she said, " I think we have made a dis-
covery."
" Don't put your hand into the hole," pleaded Violet,
in some alarm, "something may seize it !"
"Nonsense !" returned Faith, stoutly; and she broke
away piece after piece of turf, until the opening increased
in size, and was large enough to admit a man's head.
" It's perfectly dark inside," she remarked, after at-
tempting to peer into the obscurity, " but I believe that
we've found a veritable smugglers' cave. We can't stop
to explore it now, that's certain, and we couldn't see the
inside of it without a candle. But w r e'll come here
8 FAITH HARKOWBY; OR,
again to-morrow, and I'll bring some matches and a
little wax taper with me."
They gathered together the loose bits of turf, and
laid them lightly over the aperture, to conceal it from
any chance passer by. This done, they set off at full
speed on their way home, anticipating a scolding from
aunt Dorcas for being late.
But happily for her nieces, Miss Harrowby had been
entertaining visitors during the whole of the afternoon,
and she and Madame D'Arville were occupied in dis-
cussing the news they had heard, and the dress and
manners of those who had called upon them.
Eliza lost no time in assisting her young ladies to
remove their walking garb, and put on the pretty lace-
trimmed silk frocks that were laid out on the beds in
readiness for the wearers ; but while her nimble fingers
were busy with Faith's raven braids, those quick, dark
eyes were studying the reflection of the maid's face in
the looking-glass, and taking note of the fact that she
had been recently crying.
" I hope there's no fresh trouble, Eliza ? " she inquired,
kindly.
" No, miss, thank you ; it's only the old grief about
Tom, but your aunt has been speaking of it again to
me, and she says such bitter things."
She drew her breath quickly to keep back a sob, and
again the deep flush mounted into Faith's cheeks as she
repeated, indignantly, "Aunt Dorcas is very harsh in
her judgments !"
Eeleased from their studies on the next day, their out-
of-door attire was donned with all speed; and then Faith
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 9
with a slight air of mystery, went to her desk, unlocked
it, and took from a certain compartment half a dozen
wax matches and a little taper.
" And now," she said, in her decided tone, " let us be
off."
The glorious month of May was drawing to a close,
and already the orchards were covered with a snowy
carpet of fallen blossoms. There were spots of brilliant
colour in the garden beds, and from the meadows came
the fresh, delicious odour of the long grass ready for the
scythe. Yet never before had the road to the hills
seemed so long; the common appeared interminable,
and when at last it was crossed, and they began to
ascend the winding hill-side path, their hearts were
throbbing fast with excitement and impatience.
And now they had come in sight of the two stunted
bushes, and were drawing near the spot where their
discovery had been made.
They stood before the place eager and breathless, and
then a cry of surprise burst from the lips of each. The
turf which had concealed the entrance of the cavity was
broken away, and the loose pieces had been apparently
heaped together to form a sort of barrier. It was evi-
dent that some one else had found out their secret, and
they stood still for some moments in silent wonder.
" I don't care," said Faith, resolutely, "I'm determined
to see what's in there."
"But if some one should be hiding?" suggested
Violet, drawing back.
" That's not in the least likely. I suspect that some
shepherd, or may be one of the lime-burners, passed the
10 FAITH HARROWBY; OR, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE.
spot after we had left it, and seeing the turf was dis-
turbed, had the curiosity to make investigations. Come,
don't turn coward, but help me to remove this heap of
clods."
They went to work in right earnest, and soon cleared
the opening. It was considerably larger than it had
been on the preceding evening, and they could squeeze
themselves through it without difficulty. But before
entering, Faith produced her matches and lit her taper.
"Now," she said, jestingly, "keep up your courage,
and let us explore the Smugglers' Cave. Here goes ! "
and she crept through the aperture, taking care that her
taper should not be extinguished.
" What's it like ? " asked her sister from without.
"A charming place," — Faith's voice had a muffled
sound, — " walls encrusted with diamonds and glittering
with golden ore, and "
" Don't tell stories !" cried Violet, reproachfully.
" Well, then, come and see for vourself."
11
CHAPTER III.
MARGARET HOLT'S STORY.
Willi'- H-^ younger girl after a moment's
| hesitation timidly entered the hole,
and then her first sensations were
those of disappointment. She
found herself standing in a nar-
row passage rudely cut in the
solid chalk, and the light of the
taper showed nothing but the rug-
ged masses of yellowish white on either
side.
"There's nothing here," she said im-
patiently. " Let's come out, Faith."
" No ; I'm determined to go on and find
the end of it." They had not far to go ; the
passage suddenly widened and terminated
in a sort of chamber, of the size of which
they could not judge without closely in-
specting it, for their light only shone a
little way into the gloom. Then Faith, who was press-
ing boldly forwards, suddenly struck her foot against
something which returned a ringing sound.
12 FAITH HARROWBY; OR,
"Now for the treasure!" she cried, laughing, and
stooping down to bring her taper to bear upon the object.
"What have you found ?" asked Violet from behind.
Her laugh rang louder. "It's nothing but an old
lantern," she exclaimed, raising herself. "I suppose
the smugglers "
But her sentence was left unfinished, for when she held
up her light again, its rays fell directly upon a human
face, which was confronting her with wild, glittering eyes.
For a moment the girl's high courage failed, her
heart seemed to stop beating, and a cold dew broke out
upon her forehead. Involuntarily she started back a
few paces, and Violet, who had not caught a glimpse of
the strange face, clung to her skirts and shared her
sudden terror without knowing its cause.
" Don't be afraid of me !" cried a voice piteously,
" I'm only a poor wretched girl."
Violet's answer was a loud scream, but all Faith's
self-control came back at once.
"Hush!" she said, speaking authoritatively to her
sister. " Nothing will hurt you." And she advanced
nearer to the unknown speaker, holding her light close
to the countenance whose sudden appearance had
caused her. such alarm. It was the face of a girl about
a year older than herself.
" Are you here alone?" was Faith's first question.
" Yes, yes ; but you won't tell any one that you've
found me ? I'm a poor hunted creature."
"I am not going to betray you," was the steadfast
answer, " I'm not hard-hearted. Come to the entrance
of the cave, and- let me look at you."
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 13
" Is there anybody there ? I must keep myself
hidden, I must indeed !"
" No ; my sister and I came here alone ; we very
seldom meet a single person on these hills ; I'm sure
you won't be seen."
" I'll trust you," said the stranger after a pause, " I
don't think you'll be cruel enough to deceive me."
And she followed them towards the place where the
daylight streamed into the gloomy cave. The sisters
emerged from the strange hiding-place with a sense of
infinite relief. But their new acquaintance cowered
timidly behind the dwarfed bushes, close to the opening.
" What makes you afraid ? " demanded Faith ; " have
you done anything wrong?"
" Oh yes, something very, very wrong !"
"Tell me all about it," said Faith, "I'll promise to
keep your secret and to help you if I can ; and you'll
do the same, won't you?" she added, turning to her
sister.
Violet readily assented, drawing near the stranger
with an air of shy kindness, which the forlorn creature
understood at once. Then, after casting an anxious
glance over the quiet downs, she began to tell her story
in a low unsteady tone.
" My name is Margaret Holt, and I was born in a little
village on the cliffs, many miles off. The place is called
Seawall, and they are mostly fisher-folk who live there.
My father was a fisherman, an honest hard-working
man, who saved his earnings, and he and mother put
me to school, for I was an only child, and they made
much of me. But when I was just thirteen, poor
14 FAITH HARROWBY; OR,
father died, and then all our troubles came upon us.
Mother was a timid soul, who always needed somebody
to take care of her, and she was persuaded to marry
again. There was no peace for us after that day.
" It's hard to tell, but it was much harder to bear.
James Harker, that was his name, was disappointed
when he found that mother's savings were so small:
and then he began to beat and ill-use us both. More
than once the neighbours came in and took our part, or
he would have murdered us. Our life grew worse and
worse, and we were well-nigh worn out with wretched-
ness, until one day there came an end to it all. We
were sitting at work in our little kitchen, and fretting
over our troubles, as we always did, when Harker
opened the door and walked in, looking like a fiend.
First he asked mother for money, and when the poor
thing told him she had none to give him, he lit a lucifer
match and set fire to her gown. Ah, I thought I should
have gone mad when I saw the flames mounting up
higher and higher ; and when I ran to help her he held
me back — it's the truth I tell you. But just then a
fisherman named Sam Brock, who had been a comrade
of poor father's, was passing by the door and heard our
screams. He rushed in, tearing off his rough jacket, and
wrapped it round my mother to smother the fire, and
she was saved. I told him then whose doing it was,
and he dragged Harker outside the cottage and gave
him a terrible beating ; for Brock was a big strong
fellow, and as bold as a lion."
" I'm glad of it," cried Faith, with flashing eyes, " it
was nobly done."
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 15
" Mother was taken to an hospital some miles away,
and careful nursing soon healed her burns. I got some
rough work to do, and took a poor lodging in Eedport,
that I might go to see her constantly, and the people of
the place were very kind to us.
"There were some good ladies who used to come
and visit the patients ; and one day when I was sitting
by mother's bedside, they took notice of me, and
after hearing my story, offered to get me a situation.
So it was all settled, and I was to go back to Seawall
to put my things together. I had a long way to go, for
Eedport is nearly seven miles away from our village ; but
I was too happy to feel tired, and thought nothing about
the distance. Well, I chose the path that leads along
the cliffs — a rough way, and dangerous in some places
where it comes near the edge, for there is no railing put
up to keep one from falling over ; but I'm well used to
those parts, and never felt afraid.
" I was just within half a mile from Seawall, when I
saw a man rise up from the pathway on the side nearest
the edge of the cliffs ; he'd been crouching there among
some loose stones, and I recognised him at once when
he stood up, — it was my mother's wicked husband who
was waiting for me. There was nothing to be gained
by turning back, so I just went straight on, and some-
thing seemed to give me strange courage. I passed
him by without turning my head to look into his evil
face. lie followed me and savagely clutched my
shoulder, threatening to kill me. I can't describe what
I felt at that moment — all the pent-up passion within
me struggled to get free, and I let it have its way.
16 FAITH HARROWBY; OR, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE.
There must have been a look in my eyes which made
him quail, for as I turned and faced him, he stepped
backwards and dropped the hand that was raised to
strike me. I thought of all the injuries he had done
us ; I thought of my mother lying burnt and scarred in
the hospital ward ; and then I rushed at him headlong,
dealing him a blow with all my force. He was un-
prepared for it ; he staggered, reeled, and fell sheer over
the cliff. Ah, his fearful cry rings in my ears now !
There was a heavy splash in the sea, far, far below, and
then all was silent. Suddenly I saw two men coming
up from the village at full speed ; they were near
enough to have seen what had happened, and I knew
that I must fly for my life. I ran wildly back along the
road by which I came, hearing their shouts behind me.
And thus I made my way to these hills, always fearing
that I should be overtaken and captured, but as yet I
have escaped. I was roaming about here last evening
when I discovered this spot where the earth had been
broken away, and I forced an entrance into the cave,
lying down at last to sleep without fear."
-»«<;-
17
CHAPTER IV.
PERPLEXITY. — THE FALSE ACCUSATION.
DEEP silence followed Margaret Holt's
last words ; her story was so strange and
terrible, that her hearers appeared to be
struck dumb.
" How long ago was this ?" Faith asked.
" A fortnight," replied Margaret.
The unhappy girl had leaned back upon
the sod with closed eyes. Faith regarded
her with the utmost pity, and her next
question was very gently spoken.
"Have you eaten anything lately ?"
"Not since yesterday morning; then I begged a
slice of bread from a woman who was standing at a
cottage door."
Violet instantly began to turn out her pocket. " Oh,
how fortunate," she exclaimed, "that cook happened
to give me some gingerbread cakes ! I declare I had
forgotten them until this moment."
She gave the cakes to Margaret, who strove to utter
her thanks, but burst forth into loud sobs instead. It-
was some minutes before tears came too, but when they
c
18 FAITH HARROWBY; OR,
did flow, the poor girl's full heart was relieved, and
Faith set to work to comfort her.
" You shall stay here and rest as long as you like,"
said she, "and we'll bring you food to-morrow after-
noon ; we can't come to you sooner, I wish we could.
And we'll consider what's best to be done for you, but
I think you would be quite safe if you could leave the
country."
"I've thought of that," said Margaret eagerly; "I
know I dare not remain in England, but if I could
reach America or some far-off place, perhaps I could
get a living, and might find means to let mother know
something of me."
Again Faith promised to think over the matter, and
then prepared to leave the spot. They wished Margaret
a kindly good-bye, and she crept timidly back into the
cave, to forget her sorrows in sleep.
That night, when the sisters went up to their chamber,
they desired to be alone together that they might talk
over the great event of the day. But Eliza was there,
helping them to undress, and they waited until she had
left the room before a word respecting their secret was
spoken between them. Then, when the sound of her
footsteps had died away in the passage, Faith jumped
out of her little white-curtained bed and crossed the
room to Violet.
"Violet," she whispered, "how much money have
you ? "
" I have two whole sovereigns in my drawer," replied
the little girl.
" And I have three in my desk ; five pounds wouldn't
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 19
be enough to take Margaret Holt to America, but I
have thought of another plan; what do you say to
sending her to France ? "
" That wouldn't be far enough away, would it ?"
" I think she could not easily be traced there ; she
might take another name and be a servant in one of
the large hotels. I have heard that they are glad to
engage a chambermaid who speaks English."
" But how could she manage to cross the water ? "
" There would be risk, certainly ; but I believe it
could be done. We must find some means of dressing
her decently, and she might then make her way to
Greybeach, from whence there are always vessels start-
ing for the French coast. For a trifling sum the
captain of one of these would take her to Boulogne
or some other seaport ; but if the police are looking
out for her, she will have great difficulty in escaping."
" Don't you think we ought to tell aunt Dorcas ?"
" No," said Faith, sternly, " we don't want this girl
to be hanged ; we wish her to spend a useful life, full of
repentance and good deeds. Aunt Dorcas would give
her up at once to the police authorities ; if she could
say such severe things about Tom Warner's little
offence, how would she treat Margaret Holt's great
crime ? "
She turned to the window, putting back the muslin
curtains and drawing up the blind : it was a fair, still
night, a young moon sailed along the dusky purple of
the sky, and a few silvery clouds trailed their white
skirts after her.
" Her provocation was very great," she said, softly.
20 FAITH HARROWBY; OR,
" All, how good God is to me ! He has not suffered me
to be tried and tempted ! Had I been in her place I
might have done just the same."
The younger girl was already fast asleep, but long
after Faith had shut out the sight of the dim hills, and
sought her dainty little bed, she did not close her eyes.
" Why, Faith, how pale you are ! " said Violet, on the
next day, as her sister stood before the glass, hurriedly
arranging her hat and jacket.
"I don't feel comfortable," was the answer. "I'm
going to do a dishonourable action, and I dislike it
very much."
" What do you mean ? "
" Have you forgotten that we must take some food to
Margaret ? Well, there's a veal pie in the larder, and
I intend to steal it presently. And she will want some
water."
" Let us take one of the empty stone jars from the
cellar," suggested Violet : " and we can get water from
the brook on our way to the hills."
Fortune seemed to favour their plans that afternoon,
for cook was asleep in the kitchen, while Eliza and
the housemaid were in the garden gathering fruit and
flowers for dessert, and chatting with the gardener.
Violet easily made her way to the cellar unobserved, and
returned with the jar, with which she stole cautiously
out at the back door, and then hiding herself behind
the stable wall stood waiting for her sister. Faith's
task was more difficult ; she had to glide with noiseless
footsteps through the long stone passage leading to the
pantry, passing the open door of the kitchen on her
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 21
way. If she should happen to awaken cook, her chance
was lost. But the good woman's slumbers were sound,
and Faith's stealthy movements did not disturb them.
She achieved her purpose and rejoined Violet, carrying
the pie covered with her handkerchief.
" Give me the jar," Faith said ; " the pie is not so
heavy as that."
They hurried on, stopping at the brook to fill the jar
with the cool sparkling water, and then Violet trium-
phantly showed a small milk -jug of delicate china
which Margaret could use as a drinking-cup.
" It belongs to my own little tea-service, yon know,"
said she, " so that I may do with it as I please."
Once or twice they sat down by the wayside to rest,
for their burdens were heavy, and Violet wondered
more and more at her sister's grave pale face. The
truth was that Faith heartily despised the mean action
which she had just committed ; it went sorely against
her proud and upright nature to steal a pie from her
aunt's pantry, and the sense of self-degradation was
infinitely painful to her.
But the first glimpse of Margaret's worn face and
eager eyes stirred up her compassion again, and her
self-reproaches were silenced for a time. The poor girl
devoured the food like one half famished, and spoke
her thanks so eloquently that Violet turned aside to
hide her tears. Then they began to speak of the plans
they had formed on her behalf, how she was to be
provided with one of Faith's dresses, and furnished
with the sum of five pounds ; how she was to make her
way to Greybeach, and from thence take her departure
22 FAITH HARROWBY: OR
in a French vessel. Once away from England, they
believed that she would not be pursued.
Their schemes were romantic and ill-constructed, yet
Margaret listened to them as to words of wisdom. But
l er
fear and fatigue had so exhausted her strength that
it seemed uncertain whether she could undertake the
journey to Grey beach until she was sufficiently rested.
Her limbs were stiff and weary, her feet sore and blis-
tered, Greybeach was more than twelve miles away;
and so, after a long conference, it was decided that for
the next two or three days she should remain where
she was.
The sisters left her, promising to return on Monday
afternoon with a fresh supply of food. And no sooner
had they turned their backs upon the hills than all
Faith's qualms of conscience came back, added to the
certainty that the loss of the pie would have been
discovered during their absence.
" How angry aunt Dorcas would be if she knew it !"
said Violet.
They reached the house and lingered on the door-
steps, unwilling to enter, although the warning soimd
of a bell within told them that the dinner hour was
fast approaching. And scarcely had they set foot
within the pretty chamber when a new cause of dismay
presented itself; for there, sitting on the floor with her
face buried in her hands, and her whole frame quiver-
ing with suppressed sobs, was Eliza.
" Oh, Miss Faith," she began, as she raised herself
from the floor, " it seems as if I'm never to know a day's
peace again ; one trial follows another, that it does !"
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 23
" What is it, Eliza ? Sit down and tell me all about
it," said Faith, kindly.
"Well, miss, my poor mother came to see me this
afternoon. She stayed about an hour, and after she
was gone I was standing in the kitchen saying a few
words to cook, when mistress came down-stairs. She
began to tell cook that some ladies were coming to
lunch here on Monday, and asked what there was in
the larder. And cook said that there was a veal pie "
Violet uttered a little cry of horror, but her sister
gave her a warning glance.
" Mistress followed cook into the pantry," continued
Eliza, who was too much excited to notice the inter-
ruption, " and presently cook came out again with a
scared sort of look. ' The pie's gone,' said she, ' 'twas
a lovely pie too, — I made it this morning.' Then your
aunt declared that somebody must have stolen it, and
she asked if we'd seen any tramps or gipsies about the
house. ' No, ma'am,' says cook, ' not a soul has been
here to-day but Eliza's mother.' "
"You know that mistress is very hard sometimes,"
the girl went on, " and she actually said she believed
that mother had stolen the pie. Cook spoke up and
said that Mrs. Warner was as honest a woman as ever
breathed ; but your aunt brought up that matter of
poor Tom, saying she thought he wouldn't have gone
wrong if he'd had a good example at home. It was too
much for me, Miss Faith, it was indeed ; — I was hot, I
know ; — I flashed out at mistress like fire, and she gave
me warning."
CHAPTER V.
CONFESSION. — A WRETCHED SUNDAY. — RELIEF AT HAND.
AITH went up to the weeping servant,
and laying her hands upon the girl's
shoulders, said firmly, —
" Eliza, you shall not go ; I know where
that pie went, for I took it myself, and
J I shall tell aunt Dorcas so."
FAITH HARROWBY; OR, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 25
The maid stared at her in astonishment. " Took it
yourself, miss ! " she repeated, incredulously.
"Yes, it is quite true. And now, Eliza, please get
us ready for dinner, for I am quite impatient to clear
Mrs. Warner to my aunt."
" But, Miss Faith, what made you "
" You mustn't ask me a single question about it ; I
shall not tell any one why I took the pie."
Eliza knew that when Miss Faith spoke in that tone
she must be obeyed, and she proceeded at once with the
young ladies' toilet in silence. She was convinced,
however, that they would get into trouble with Miss
Harrowby, who always required that her nieces should
make her acquainted with all their actions. Neither of
the girls spoke another word, and when the dinner-bell
rang, they walked down-stairs arm in arm to the dining-
room.
There was a shade upon their aunt's face when they
entered. She was chafing inwardly at the unpleasant
course which things had taken, when Faith, instead of
going to her usual seat at the table, marched deliberately
up to her, and said quietly, —
" Aunt Dorcas, it was I who took the pie ; I am very
sorry that poor Mrs. Warner should have been unjustly
accused."
" You took the pie ! " echoed Miss Harrowby, in a
bewildered tone ; " what do you mean, Faith ? Are you
crazy ? "
" I took it," repeated her niece, steadily. " I am
stating the simple truth."
" Did you eat it ? " was the next question.
26 FAITH HARROWBY ; OR,
" No."
" Then why did you take it ? Come, you had better
make an open confession. What foolish thing have you
been doing? "
"Aunt Dorcas/' said Faith, speaking with a great
effort, " I know I did very wrong to take your pie, it
was a deliberate theft ; but pray do not ask me what I
did with it, for I cannot tell you."
" But you must and shall tell me, child ! I don't care
about the pie, but I will not allow you to have secrets
from me."
" This is the first time, aunt, that I have ever con-
cealed anything from you."
" Violet, come here directly," called Miss Harrowby.
" Do you know why your sister stole the pie ? "
" She does know," replied the elder girl, answering for
her, " but the blame rests entirely with me."
" Now, Violet, tell me all about it," said her aunt.
But the younger sister stood firm ; she glanced im-
ploringly at Faith once or twice, and seeing no sign of
relenting in the other's dark eyes and compressed lips,
she persisted in keeping the secret.
" Go out of my sight, both of you," exclaimed aunt
Dorcas, whose patience was now completely exhausted ;
" I shall send your dinner into the schoolroom. I
declare, Faith, I had no idea that you were such a
wicked, obstinate girl, and you have positively made
your sister as bad as yourself. I must write to your
father about you."
The girls left the room in utter silence, but the last
thrust had gone home. Their father was in India, and
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 27
he had consigned his motherless daughters to his sister's
care.
" We must confess now — we can't help it," pleaded
Violet.
"No, we must not, we dare not betray Margaret;
perhaps her life depends on our silence, and whatever
happens to us, we must be true to her."
The day passed on, bedtime came, and when Violet
had cried herself to sleep, Faith sat for hours at the
window, looking out into the moonlight, and trying to
decide for herself betwixt right and wrong. Violet's
nature was so pliant, and her confidence in Faith was
so absolute, that the girl's responsibilities were doubled
by this close companionship. She knew that Violet's
character would be a reflection of her own, only that in
the younger sister's case the lights would be paler and
the shadows fainter, but there would be the same out-
lines — the same general details. In going wrong herself
she would spoil both her father's children ; it was a
terrible thought, and she pondered over it until her
powers of thinking almost failed.
She awoke in the morning with a vague conscious-
ness of something having gone amiss. Eliza came to
the bedside, and stood looking at her anxiously, reading
the signs of mental suffering in her pale face and weary
eyes.
"Are you rested sufficiently, Miss Faith?" she asked,
" or would you like to lie still a little longer ? Miss
Violet is up and dressed."
" I will get up directly. Ah ! it is Sunday, I had
almost forgotten that."
28 FAITH HARROWBY; OR,
She was feeling strangely languid and unlike her
usual self as she proceeded down-stairs to the breakfast-
room, where the household were already assembled for
prayers.
Aunt Dorcas took no notice of her entrance ; Madame
D'Arville's greeting was as distant as possible, and she
slipped into a chair next to Violet. It was all new and
strange and wretched.
They walked to church as usual, making a little pro-
cession; the two girls going first, wearing their pretty
fresh muslin dresses and delicate mauve bonnets, and
then came Aunt Dorcas and Madame, while Eliza and
the page carrying the books, brought up the rear.
The sisters scarcely exchanged a sentence during their
walk, but both were conscious of a sense of relief when
they came out of the broad sunshine and into the sub-
dued light of the beautiful old church. Faith remem-
bered how, as a little child, she had gazed at the mag-
nificent colours of the east window with a kind of awe-
struck admiration, and had watched the many-tinted rays
casting faint gleams over the cold white face of the
crusader whose tomb stood close by the vestry door.
There he lay, the old knight in his panoply of mail,
looking as still and peaceful as ever ; and she recollected
wondering in those childish days if he ever got up and
wandered up and down the deserted aisles, returning to
the stony pillow at cockcrow.
Mr. Brixton was one of the curates of St. Philip's,
and Faith had alluded to him, when, on that memorable
day on the hills, she had told Violet about the smug-
glers and their former haunts.
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 29
He had first given her information on this, as well as
on many other subjects, encouraging her to talk freely
and ask him questions whenever they met. It so
happened that he occupied the pulpit this morning, and
preached, as he always did, so simply and clearly, that
the youngest child in the congregation could understand
much of what was said.
" Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain
thee," — so ran his text; and he went on to show, in a
few plain words, the folly and the ingratitude of those
who persisted in carrying their own burdens, when there
was such a mighty Hand stretched out to help them.
Such persons, he said, must fall fainting by the wayside,
for their mere human strength was unequal to the load
they bore ; and then, earnestly and affectionately, he
invited all those who were " weary and heavy laden,"
to come unto Him who alone could give them rest.
Faith listened eagerly, for somehow both text and ser-
mon seemed specially intended for her ; and gradually
she began to realize that she had been carrying her
burden herself, instead of casting it upon the Lord.
And when the service was over, she knelt down and
simply asked Him in her heart to take this heavy weight
and bear it for her ; and having done this, she left the
church with an easier mind.
Miss Harrowby always dined early on Sundays ; and
again the girls were banished to the schoolroom, Eliza
bringing them their dinner as on the preceding day.
The long golden hours of the afternoon dragged heavily
by, and the bells chimed out again, sweetly and solemnly,
bringing a message of peace and hope to many weary
30 FAITH HARROWBY; OR,
hearts who listened to their music. But although it
was time to get ready for evening service, Faith never
stirred from her seat.
" I think she is sullen," said Aunt Dorcas to Madame.
" She may stay at home if she likes. I have no objec-
tion."
She did remain at home, and her sister kept her com-
pany. They sat together in the schoolroom until the
day closed in. And then the feeling of languor in-
creased ; her head ached sadly, and she crept up-stairs
to bed.
In the morning it became evident to the whole house-
hold that Faith was really ill; but, although Miss
Harrowby desired Madame to excuse her lessons, she
did not soften in her manner towards her nieces : ill or
well, she wished them to feel that they were still under
the ban of her displeasure. Faith lay upon a little
couch in her own room and thought of Margaret. The
girl's stock of provisions would be exhausted, and she
would look eagerly for the return of her friends. She
resolved to persuade Violet, when she came from the
schoolroom, to take her afternoon walk alone, first
desiring her to go into a cottage and purchase a loaf of
bread. At last her welcome footstep was heard outside
the door, but when she appeared it was with a downcast
face.
" Oh ! Faith," she whispered, " Madame says that we
are not to go beyond the garden until we have confessed
what became of that horrid pie. We are to be kept as
prisoners, and a watch will be set upon our actions.
What is to become of Margaret ? "
THE SMUGGLEKS CAVE. 31
" I don't know," said Faith, brokenly ; * I haven't
any strength of mind left, and my head gets confused
whenever I think of her."
But relief was nearer to them than they expected,
and it came in the person of Mr. Brixton.
Mr. Brixton's visit was intended specially for Miss
Harrowby's nieces, and he explained its object to the
elder lady in the drawing-room. The parish attached
to St. Philip's was a large and scattered one, including
not only the substantial farms with their well-to-do
tenants, but extending to the poverty-stricken dwellings
on the sea-shore. There, while the fishermen pursued
their calling, their wives and children made and sold
fishing-nets, clothes-pegs, and other coarse articles of
home manufacture ; but generally speaking they had a
hard time of it. Mr. Brixton's sympathies on behalf of
these poor folks were thoroughly aroused, the more so
when he found that this part of the parish had been
much neglected. Having obtained his rector's leave, he
set about building a large school-house which would
stand among their own habitations. But funds were
needed to complete this undertaking, and the curate
hoped to obtain aid from the young ladies in the neigh-
bourhood. He thought that by a sale of fancy work a
considerable sum might be raised, and he had called
that day to solicit the services of Faith and Violet.
" Can I see and speak with the young ladies myself ? "
said Mr. Brixton.
"Oh yes, certainly," rejoined Aunt Dorcas; "Faith
was slightly indisposed this morning, but I dare say she
is sufficiently recovered to come down-stairs." Not for
32 FAITH HARROWBY; OR, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE.
the world would the lady have had the clergyman sus-
pect that there had been any interruption to the harmony
of her household !
Presently Eliza tapped at their chamber door, an-
nouncing that Mr. Brixton was in the drawing-room,
waiting to see them ; and at the mention of his name
a light seemed to break in upon Faith.
" I will tell him everything," she exclaimed suddenly ;
" he is a good and just man, and I'm sure we may trust
him; but then," she added, as her countenance fell,
" how shall I contrive to see him alone ? I dare not
speak before Aunt Dorcas."
" Slip a note into his hand, and ask him to call to-
morrow while aunt is taking her drive," suggested
Violet, who was burning to get rid of the troublesome
secret.
No better idea presented itself, so Faith scribbled her
note. But her mental disquiet had wrought a striking
change in her appearance, and Mr. Brixton was grieved
and astonished to see her bright face so altered. Auut
Dorcas, too, felt a pang of uneasiness when her niece
entered, and began to wish that she had been more
patient with her.
CHAPTER VI.
THE CLOUD PASSES AWAY.
RESPITE the anxiety under which
she was labouring, Faith listened
with deep interest while the curate
unfolded his schemes.
" Oh ! I am so glad to do some-
thing for those poor fisher-folk,"
she exclaimed. " I have wished to
go and visit them, but my aunt did
not think "
" They are such a rough set of people,"
interposed Miss Harrowby, apologetic-
ally, "and Faith is very young and
enthusiastic, you know, Mr. Brixton."
" They are rough, it is true," returned the
clergyman, "but there is a great deal of
good feeling amongst them, plenty of soil
which will bear an excellent harvest by
and by. A most singular proof of this came
to my knowledge on Saturday."
" Flease tell us about it," said Faith.
" I am glad to see I have awakened your interest,"'
I)
34 FAITH HAKEOWBY ; Oil, THE SMUGGLER'S CAVE.
lie replied, with a smile. " "Well, there is one fisherman,
just come to settle among them, to whom I have taken
a strong liking. He is not a very polished specimen of
humanity, I admit ; a great burly fellow, with a round
red face, and a fist as heavy as a sledge-hammer ; but
that big man's heart is in the right place. In addition
to his own family — and he has seven or eight little lads
and lasses — he has taken under his protection the wife of
a former comrade of his, a poor ill-used creature nearly
crazed with trouble. It seems that she had an only
child, a daughter, who had always striven to shield her
from the brutality of the man she had married, and
according to my informant's description, he must have
been an atrocious character. Against this girl her step-
father conceived a special hatred. I won't sadden you
now with the shocking details of his conduct ; it is suffi-
cient to say that his unfortunate wife was obliged to be
sent to the hospital in consequence of injuries sustained
at his hands, the daughter having done all in her power
to defend her. I am told that the girl came constantly
to see her mother, and that her affectionate disposition
and quiet manners were noticed by the nurses and
doctors, and some charitable ladies who were visiting the
patients volunteered to find her a situation. This offer
was thankfully accepted, and she went back to her home
in a little fishing village for the purpose of collecting her
clothes and other belongings, before entering upon her
new duties. My fisher-frieud, Sam Brock by name, had
himself been to Seawall that very morning, and was
returning along the cliffs with a companion, when they
witnessed a terrible scene. First thev observed the
m& \>' ti
FAITH HAEROWBY; OK, THE SMUGGLERS CAVE. 3i
figure of a young girl coming along at a rapid pace, and
thensawamanrushing after her with threatening gestures.
They hastened their steps, and recognised at a glance that
the two persons before them were poor Mrs. Harker's
daughter, and her brutal husband. The girl seemed, as
Sam Brock said, to be seized with sudden frenzy ; goaded
on, doubtless, by her step-father's menaces, she sprang at
him, str ikin g a violent blow which sent him backwards
over the cliff. He disappeared with a loud cry, and she
stood apparently horrified at her own action. There was
a splash in the water following the cry, and then, seeing
the two men advancing towards her, she flung up her
arms wildly, and sped off like a frightened deer. But
her mother's husband was not killed, he was not even
injured "
" Not killed !" shrieked Faith, in a voice that caused
Mr. Brixton to start to his feet, Madame D'Arville and
Aunt Dorcas hurried towards her and caught her in
their arms, for she had fallen back on her seat in a faint-
ing fit ; the strain on her nerves — the keeping of Mar-
garet's secret, had tried her strength severely, and she
could not bear the strong shock of that sudden joy.
"Oh, Mr. Brixton," cried Violet, "you have cleared
up everything. It was for Margaret Holt that Faith
stole the veal pie and made aunt Dorcas so angry;
Margaret Holt is hiding in the smugglers' cave!"
The curate drew her to a corner of the room, and found
a way to soothe her excitement before he extracted the
particulars of the strange story from her. And all the
while Aunt Dorcas was crying over Faith, and Madame
and Eliza were using means to restore her to conscious-
38 FAITH harkowby; or,
ness. "When she did come to herself, her first inquiry
was for Mr. Brixton.
" Don't let him go yet. I want to tell him everything,"
she said. The clergyman would not let her agitate
herself any more about the matter, however. He as-
sured her that Violet had already told him all. And
then it was arranged that he should start off at once to
the cave, taking Violet as a guide, and that she should
break the good news to the poor girl before he revealed
himself, lest the sudden appearance of a stranger might
alarm her.
In the meanwhile, a great change for the better had
been stealing over Margaret Holt ; the mercy and com-
passionate kindness of the two sisters had softened her
heart, and other and more subtle influences were at
work also. She resolved that when her kind friends
returned to her she would set aside all their offers of
helping her to leave the country, and go back at once to
her mother to confess everything, and be dealt with as
the law should decide. It was in this altered frame of
mind that Violet found her on the memorable Monday
afternoon when she brought her the tidings that James
Harker was living still.
She was told afterwards how it had happened : he
had stumbled backwards over the edge of the cliff, it is
true ; but then a broad ledge received him, and he soon
recovered his footing ; the splash in the water, which had
seemed to Margaret's ears to seal his fate, was caused
by a large fragment of chalk, loosened by his fall, rolling-
down into the sea. The two men had shouted to her to
turn back, but she had fled onwards in her wild terror
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 30
fancying herself pursued. Then an unsuccessful search
had been made for her, and honest, tender-hearted Sam
Brock had taken her mother into his care.
Mr. Brixton and Violet brought her back with them
to Miss Harrowby's house, and there her soiled and
tattered garments were exchanged for clean and comfort-
able attire, and a substantial meal was spread before
her. Aunt Dorcas was the first to speak a kind word
to her, for the old lady's heart was deeply touched
by the story of her sufferings, and I think it likely
that her conscience reproached her for the indifference
she had so long manifested towards her poorer neigh-
bours. " Well, it is never too late to mend," she said
to herself, and before Margaret quitted her roof she
put a sovereign into her hand " to buy comforts for her
poor mother."
On the following day Mr. Brixton called to tell all the
particulars of Mrs. Barker's meeting with her lost
< laughter. No further molestation was to be appre-
hended from James Harker ; he had been committed to
prison for being concerned in a robbery, and on his release,
means would be taken to insure his wife's safety. Faith
listened to all these details, lying on a couch in the
drawing-room, and before he took his departure the
cm-ate found an opportunity for a little quiet conversa-
tion with her.
" Miss Faith," ho said gently, " hasn't this affair taught
you that your own strength is perfect weakness ? "
" Oh yes," she answered. " I can't tell you how
heavy my burden was when I came to church on Sunday
morning. I think I had been trusting too much in
40 FAITH habrowby; or,
myself, relying too much on my own judgment, and I
feel so humble and sorry. I see now that I was doing-
just the worst thing in the world for Margaret in keep-
ing her secret. And yet, how could I betray her ?"
" Your case was a difficult one, but the best way
would have been to induce her not to continue con-
cealed. If that bad man Harker had really perished by
his fall, Margaret could not have been convicted of a
murder. She turned on him, in the first place, in self-
defence, and the blow she struck was not intended to put
an end to his life. Mind, 1 am not justifying her out-
burst of passion ; — it was a sin, and she has been
severely punished for it."
" No one would think, to look at Margaret, that she
could be roused into fury ; her face is so gentle in its
expression, isn't it ?"
" Ah, Miss Faith, we never know what is lurking in
our natures until circumstances call it forth. Who
would have supposed that the apostle Peter would have
denied his Lord ? This old saint failed on the very point
on which he deemed himself strongest, and perhaps that
was just why he failed. We cannot tell how much we
owe to the restraining grace of God."
Mr. Brixton went his way, and Faith pondered deeply
over what he had said to her. The good seed had been
sown in her heart, and had taken root. It flourished
and brought forth fruit in due season.
Afterwards, there was a long quiet talk between aunt
Dorcas and her elder niece, in which the latter frankly
owned herself in fault and craved forgiveness, and the
former, when she granted it, dropped a hint that there
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 41
would henceforth be a better understanding between
them. Violet was intensely happy in the improved
state of things, and even Eliza came in for her share of
gladness ; for the curate had volunteered to call on Tom's
former master, and persuade him to give the lad another
trial. So the clouds of reserve and ill-humour passed
away from the household, never to return and over-
shadow it again.
Down on the pebbly beach, where the fishermen's
cottages are scattered at intervals, three persons are
standing, watching the sunset flushing over the sea and
reddening the sails of the returning boats. Those two
tall young ladies are Faith and Violet Harrowby, and the
clergyman with whom they are talking is the rector of
the parish, Mr. Brixton. Seven years have come and
gone since the day when he brought comfort to the
sisters in their trouble ; and when the old rector of
Marksbourne died he was appointed to the vacant living,
much to the gratification of the parishioners, amongst
whom he had laboured so earnestly.
High up on the shore, beyond the reach of the sea-
spray, stands the school-house — a strong, substantial
brick building, with a picturescpae belfry, and one or two
hardy creepers clinging to its walls; the interior of the
porch is gay with scarlet geraniums in pots, and the
schoolmistress stands at the door with her sewing, en-
joying the time of rest after the day's toil.
"Dear old Marksbourne," says Faith, suddenly, "how
sorry I should be to leave it 1 "
42 FAITH HARKOWBY; OK, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE.
" You are not going away from us, Miss Faith ? " asks
the rector. " Surely your father will be induced to settle
here, instead of taking you from all your old friends."
" I can't tell anything about his plans yet. It will
be a hard trial for us if we have to say good-bye to our
old home and go among strangers."
" We can't spare you. Miss Faith ; — there is no one
who could fill your place."
" It's very kind of you to say so ; — I love the people,
and the work that is going on here, — my heart is in it.
But if I do indeed go away, there will be great comfort
in thinking that all those in whom I have taken an in-
terest are happy. Tom Warner and Margaret Holt have
made quite a model couple, and their cottage is the
prettiest I have ever seen ; poor Mrs. Harker, once more
a widow, is the best of grandmothers to the little ones;
Sam Brock and his new boat are prospering bravely, and
there is a wonderful change for the better in the con-
dition of our poor fisher-folk. Ah, how it would grieve
me to part from them all ! "
" I don't think we shall have to do that," said Violet,
cheerfully ; " I'm not half so useful as you are, Faith, but
I love Marksbourne quite as dearly, and I mean to coax
papa to stop in it. Hark! do you hear the singing of
the fishermen ? How softly their voices come to us,
mingling with the murmur of the surf at our feet !
everybody seems to be happy this evening ; let us be
happy too."
CHAPTER VII.
sir oscah's partridges.
SN'T it rather a gloomy time of year for
a wedding, Faith ? I should like to
have "been married in the spring."
" My dear, I can't think how you can
i ZX.V&® ca u it gloomy! This is only the firsl
44 FAITH HAEROWBY ; OK,
of September ; and there are all the lovely golden days
to come, — it's the season which I prefer above all others."
Violet Harrowby turned towards the bed, whereon her
wedding attire was laid out for her inspection. There
was the crown of orange blossoms resting on the veil of
filmy lace ; there were the little white gloves and boots,
and above all, the robe of pearly satin. The bride elect
stroked its soft, lustrous folds with an air of cruiet satis-
faction.
"Eliza says it is a dress fit for a princess," she
remarked, after a pause, " and certainly nothing could
be handsomer ; well, one ought to look one's best. I
shouldn't like to be a dowdy bride. Why, Faith, what
are you staring at ? " For the elder sister was standing
at the window, gazing far' out upon some distant point in
the landscape. She had gone thither for the purpose of
drawing up the blind, that the morning sunlight might
shine in freely upon the bridal array; and then she
paused, as if her eye were suddenly arrested by some
object of intense interest. The scene was fair enough to
have kept her glance wandering over its details if they
had been unfamiliar to her. There were peaceful pasture
lands, and broad harvest-fields newly reaped ; rich, dark
masses of wood here and there, and a range of low-lying
hills on the left, while on the right lay the wide expanse
of ocean, with white sails glimmering on its dim, blue-
grey waters. But Faith's gaze took no note of any of
these features. Her look was fixed steadfastly upon a
tall, slender spire, which rose above a thick cluster of
trees. She turned her head, smiling at her sister's
question, and was about to speak, when the creaking of
THE SMUGGLERS CAVE. 4o
the heavy gate, and the sound of footsteps crunching on
the gravel of the carriage drive, interrupted her.
" Here comes Sir Oscar," exclaimed Violet, drawing a
step nearer to the open window. " Look, he's bringing
some partridges."
A tall athletic man, clad in a shooting costume, was
approaching the hall door, swinging a couple of brace of
birds in his hand. But at the sight of him the smile
suddenly died away from Faith's lips.
" Is papa at home ? " asked Violet.
" Yes, he said he shouldn't go out this morning."
Just then, Eliza, the lady's-maid, tapped at the door.
" If you please, Miss Faith, Sir Oscar Northwood has
called, and the Colonel lias sent me to ask you to go
down."
"Didn't you say I was engaged with Miss Violet 3
Eliza ? "
" The Colonel spoke in such a positive way, Miss
Faith, that I couldn't say a word."
"There's no help for it then!" said Violet; and her
sister silently quitted the room.
She went slowly down the old-fashioned staircase,
touching the heavy oaken balustrade with her hand. At
the foot of the stairs she came to a sudden halt, grasping
the handrail tightly, while a strange, defiant expression
settled on her features. And I am bound to say that no
one who saw Faith Harrowby at that moment would
have admitted that she had any sort of claim to beauty.
Voices came towards her from the open door of the
breakfast-room, and thither she bent her steps. There
were Colonel Harrowby and his visitor chatting together
40 FAITH HARROWBY ; OR,
and both looked at her scrutinizingly as she entered.
Sir Oscar came forward to meet her.
" Good morning, Miss Faith ; I've brought yon some
birds, the very first I have shot this season."
" Thank you," said Faith, simply, and she was about
to add something more, when a low growl behind her
caused her to turn sharply round. There was her enor-
mous St. Bernard's dog, which had followed her
unobserved, preparing to do battle with the baronet's
retriever.
"Be quiet, B olio !" she exclaimed; but the dog was
not easily silenced, and it was with considerable difficulty
that his mistress succeeded in coaxing him out of the
room.
There was an ominous shade upon the Colonel's brow
when she returned and made her quiet apologies to Sir
Oscar; and the dread of an outburst of her father's
wrath caused poor Faith's manner to be more than
usually stiff and constrained. But if Sir Oscar observed
her want of cordiality, he did not appear to be in the
least degree affected by it. He was to be one of the
guests at Violet's wedding, and he displayed a marked
interest in the coming event.
" Brigham has some flowers ready for you, Miss Faith ;
he will cut them on Wednesday evening. One can't
have too many flowers at a wedding, you know."
" You are very kind ; our conservatory plants have
not flourished this year. "
" Let Brigham come and look at them ; he is reckoned
clever at that sort of thing. It is really a pity that he
should waste his talents on my greenhouses, as there's
the smugglers' cave. 47
no one to admire them but myself. I get dreadfully
lonely and moped at the Abbey, Miss Faith."
At these words an uncomfortable flush came into her
cheeks, and her face grew quite forbidding in its stern-
ness. She understood his tone well enough, and she
could not help resenting it. He did not make a long-
stay, and no sooner had the hall door closed behind him
than the storm which she had feared broke forth.
"Do you keep that savage brute, Rollo, on purpose
to insult my friends?" demanded Colonel Harrowby,
furiously.
" Oh, papa, you know I couldn't help it ! I am so
sorry that he should have followed me into the room."
"You behaved shamefully," he went on; "your manner
to Sir Oscar wasn't decently civil. You are the most
perverse and undutiful girl I ever saw in my life. Why
don't you copy Violet's meekness and gentleness? SJi<
has never given me the slightest trouble. But I sup-
pose I am only to have comfort in one of my children."
He fairly talked himself hoarse ; and then Faith, who
had listened to his tirade in utter silence, slipped out of
the room and betook herself up-stairs to her own cham-
ber. There she shut and locked the door, and going to
the bedside, fell upon her knees and wept bitterly.
48
CHAPTER VIII.
THE TEXT ON THE TOMB.
W^JjF^ii U-^ heroine thought of many things
^t^iZ&k w hil e her tears were flowing, and
some of these thoughts made her
sobs come thicker and faster. Me-
mories of past childish days swept
across her mind, — recollections of
the time when she and Violet had lived with
Aunt Dorcas Harrowby, and had. looked
forward to the period of their father's re-
turn from India with such eager hope and
longing. She remembered how as she
grew up into womanhood, she had learned,
to love and understand Aunt Dorcas better,
for the rough edges of the old lady's cha-
racter had worn smooth, and a strong
bond of sympathy drew the aunt and niece
closely together. And then the thought of
Colonel Harrowby's coming home had be-
come blended with the dread of leaving
Marksbourne, with its old familiar scenes and friends ;
and its ancient parish church, wherein she had learned
FAITH HARROWBY; OE, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 49
the one great lesson of life. She recalled the first meeting
with her father, and the vague sense of disappointment
with which she hardly dared admit to herself. But it was
with gratitude that she looked hack to the single instance
in which his will had yielded to the united entreaties of
his children, — for their sakes alone he had consented to
remain in the place they loved so well. Then came
the gaieties of two seasons in London, the pomp and
glitter of the great world of fashion, the new ideas and
experiences which had seemed to put the simplicity of
girlhood so far away from her. And this was followed
by Violet's engagement, and her own introduction to
Sir Oscar Northwood. It had been a restless, unsatis-
factory life which she had led since she had quitted the
shelter of Aunt Dorcas's home ; her only intervals of
peace were spent in Marksbourne, among her old haunts,
where the poor, who had learned to love her, gladly
welcomed her visits. Here alone she was able to gather
together all the scattered threads of her existence, and
to go on weaving them into the pattern she loved best.
But now she feared that this sanctuary of hers, with its
simple enjoyments and its quiet work, was to be in-
vaded. Sir Oscar Nbrthwood was the owner of Marks-
bourne Abbey and the squire of the place; he was
beginning to intrude himself into her arrangements,
and to be a frequent visitor, at the house ; and these
unwelcome attentions of his were sowing the seeds of
strife between her father and herself.
At length she lifted her pale, tear-stained face from
her hands, and pushed back the hair from her forehead
with a heavy sigh. Mechanically her eyes wandered
E
50 FAITH HARKOWBY ; OR,
round the pretty room, with its various tokens of com-
fort and refinement, until her glance rested on an illu-
minated text which hung upon the wall, exactly opposite
to the foot of the bed; and the well-known words
flashed into her darkened heart like a ray of sunshine, —
" Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a
crown of life."
Faith rose from her knees, and her hopeless, troubled
look gradually passed away. That text was found in
half-defaced letters on an ancient tomb in Marksbourne
Church, — the tomb of a knight who lay sleeping peace-
fully with hands crossed upon his breast, and the soft
colours from the high-arched chancel windows falling
around him. She had loved in her childhood to look
upon the still marble figure, and had wondered and
speculated about it in a silent fashion, until Mr.
Brixton had shown her the words, and helped her to
decipher them. He had talked to her, not so much of
the knight's history — for that was buried in oblivion —
as of the history of every true soldier of Christ who had
vowed " manfully to fight under His banner, against sin,
the world, and the devil." He spoke of those enemies
who always beset the Christian's path, and of the snares
which were spread for him on every side ; and he told
her, too, how his worst foes were the traitors within his
own bosom, — the evil thoughts, and the doubts and
misgivings, which, if he yielded to them, would render
his arm weak and powerless to wield the sword. And
then he had described to her the never-ceasing love and
watchfulness of the great Captain for every soldier in
His army ; how He was ever at hand to help those that
THE SMUGGLERS CAVE. 51
were ready to fall, if they called upon Him in their time
of need. And he had made her clearly understand that
in this great warfare there was no neutral ground, — no
space where one might stand to watch the contending
forces as a mere spectator, for he who was not on the
Lord's side was against Him — fighting with the devil
and his angels. And when he had pictured to her the
hardships of the conflict, he went on to speak of the
eternal rest that lay "beyond the strife ; of the song of
triumph, and the crown of victory. From that time
Faith had ceased to indulge in vague dreams and
fancies about the marble knight, but rather chose to
look upon him as a type of God's warrior whose work
was done, and who was waiting calmly until the morn-
ing of the resurrection. And then she had illuminated
the text in letters of scarlet and blue and gold, that it
might be always before her eyes in her own room. " I
must endure to the end," she said softly to herself.
" I must be faithful unto death. It is only for a little
while — this striving and righting, — and then there will
be the everlasting peace."
She smoothed her hair, washed away the traces of her
tears, and went quietly into her sister's chamber again,
to renew their broken talk. But as the door opened,
X'Lolet sprang up from the silks and laces, and came
anxiously towards her.
" Oh, Faith, you have been getting into a scrape with
] >apa ! I heard him storming at you. What was it
about, dear ?"
" Eollo followed me into the breakfast-room and
growled at Sir Oscar's dog ; — there would have been
52 FAITH HAKKOWBY; OR, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE.
a fight if I hadn't coaxed him away ; and papa was
very angry."
" Was that all?"
" Not quite ; he was displeased at something in my
manner to Sir Oscar."
" Ah, I thought that was at the bottom of it. It's a
sad pity ; — how pale and sorrowful you look, Faith !"
"My head aches, and if you don't want me after
luncheon, Violet, I think I'll take a walk to Netley's
cottage."
"Do go ; you'll feel all the better for it. I shall be
writing letters until dinner-time."
" Yes, and I'll carry one of Sir Oscar's birds to poor
Mrs. Netley," said Faith, brightening with the idea.
" Her appetite is very bad, and perhaps a plump
partridge may tempt her to eat."
The remainder of the morning was spent over the
trousseau, until the luncheon-bell summoned them down-
stairs, where they found the colonel in that morose
humour which always followed a violent outbreak of
temper. There was a gloom over all three while they
sat at the table, for even Violet was awed and frightened
by her father's forbidding aspect; so that the meal
passed over in silence.
When she was once more at liberty, Faith put on her
walking dress ; and having deposited the partridge and
a mould of calves' feet jelly in a basket, sallied forth,
attended by Eollo, on her way to Netley's cottage.
CHAPTEE IX.
THE NETLEYS.
NDEEW NETLEY'S cottage was situ-
ated on the outskirts of Sir Oscar North-
wood's covers, and the squire looked
• *""^s<s ~^ 7 upon him with no favouring eye. If
the said cottage had been the property
54 FAITH HARROWBY; OR,
of the baronet, Netley would not have been suffered to
remain in it another day; but it stood just within the
boundaries of Mr. Hazelhurst's land, and Mr. Hazel-
hurst did not choose to turn out his tenant. Some four
or five years before the date of my story, Netley had
. been strongly suspected of implication in a serious
poaching affray; but the charge was not substantially
proved against him, and the magistrates dismissed him
with a caution. From that time Sir Oscar had cherished
a grudge against the man, and this was increased by the
impossibility of removing him from his little domicile.
And then, too, he fancied that Andrew's bearing towards
him, although scrupulously respectful, was not un-
mingled with a spice of secret triumph.
But the baronet's animosity was both unjust and
unreasonable ; for Andrew Netley had long ago repented
heartily of those misdeeds into which he had been led
by evil companions. Mr. Brixton believed the man to be
sincerely penitent, and did all in his power to help him
in earning an honest livelihood. But, unfortunately,
poor Andrew had sustained an injury to the knee which
caused an incurable lameness. The rector had freely
spent money to obtain for him the best advice and sur-
gical skill, but all in vain ; and Netley had to support
himself and his sick wife by doing any light work
which came in his way. Mrs. Netley had been for
some years a cripple from chronic rheumatism ; and of
all the poor people in the parish, Faith loved her the
best. The sweet patience with which she bore her
burden of constant pain and helplessness was a beauti-
ful example ; and Mr. Brixton was wont to say that he
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 55
had learned many a useful lesson in that humble
cottage.
The " golden days " of which Faith had spoken had
not set in yet. The trees kept all the glory of their
summer garb, and although the lavish bloom of the
flowers was past, the garden beds were still bright with
flashes of rich colour. The mountain-ash showed
clusters of coral berries, and the brier bush flaunted its
glistening scarlet fruit. There were thick spots of
amethyst heather on the roadside banks, over which the
brown bees and butterflies hummed and fluttered ; but
as yet the year betrayed no tokens of decay.
Rollo, happily unconscious of the storm he had raised
in the earlier part of the day, kept up a steady trot by
his mistress's side, and carried her basket carefully in
his mouth. To Faith the bright sunshine and soft
fragrant air brought infinite comfort and relief ; and she
walked with the light, firm step and erect carriage
which had been peculiar to her from childhood. Now,
too, the rich blood had returned to her clear brown
cheeks, — there was an unconscious smile on her full red
lips, and a tender lustre in her dark eyes. Her straw
hat with its small bouquet of poppies and corn-flowers,
and airy veil of black lace, sat gracefully upon the
head and glossy coils of ebon hair ; and she was
altogether a different being from the pale stern-faced
girl who had gone so unwillingly that morning to
receive an unwelcome visitor.
Netley's cottage — a thatched, low-roofed dwelling,
with yellow walls and tiny latticed windows — stood
enclosed in a small piece of garden ground, and was
56 FAITH harrowby; or,
only separated from Sir Oscar's covers by a narrow
footway. A huge walnut tree shaded it in front, and
the trim flower beds and borders showed signs of care
and neatness. The door was on the latch, and Faith
and Rollo, having traversed the little path, entered
without further ceremony.
" I'm so glad to see you, Miss," said a soft voice from
the chimney corner; and Mrs. Netley's faded face
brightened as she spoke. Faith shook hands with her,
and Eollo, wagging his great tail, deposited the basket
at her feet.
" He knows that there's something for you in it,
Mrs. Netley. He has carried it very carefully all the
way from home."
" He's as sensible as a Christian. Please, Miss, take
that chair. I like to look at you while you talk, if
you've no objection."
Faith smiled as she took her seat at the opposite
corner of the fireplace.
The interior of the cottage was as picturesque as the
outside. The walls were covered with a gay paper, a
little the worse for wear; there was a fair show of
crockery on the dresser, and the brick floor was
scrupulously clean. The low ceiling was supported by
a heavy wooden beam, and two stout iron hooks driven
into it, held the gun which had so nearly involved its
owner in serious mischief in years gone by. One side
of the room was occupied by a four-post bedstead with
curtains of faded chintz, for Mrs. JSTetley's infirmity
prevented her from ascending the stairs which led to
the upper chamber.
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 57
" You're very good to me, Miss Faith," said the poor
woman, affectionately. " I get a little downcast some-
times, and whenever that happens to be my case, either
you or the rector are sure to look in and cheer me up."
"The 'cheering up' isn't all on one side, Mrs.
Netley ; you don't know how often I have benefited by
your example of fortitude and patience. And I think
that must be your special mission, to set us a pattern
of Christian endurance."
Mrs. Netley's mild eyes sought the speaker's face
with a wistful look. More than once of late she had
detected something in the young lady's tone which
seemed to indicate that all was not going smoothly with
her. It is often hard for the poor to understand that
the rich can have any but imaginary troubles; they
think that those who have " food and raiment " ought
to "be therewith content." But there was in this
woman an innate sensitiveness for others which enabled
her to comprehend the more subtle sorrows of those in
a higher rank of life. She knew, too, that it must be a
real and heavy trial that could weigh down Faith's
buoyant spirit.
" I always believe, Miss " she said, quietly, " that we
women are specially called upon to endure. It's just
the work which God has given us to do for Him ; and
sometimes it doesn't seem like work at all, but only
waiting, — waiting for light. May be it's the hardest
kind of work after all, but He knows best, ' Weeping
may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.'"
" Isn't it a long night to you, Mrs. Netley ? You are
never free from pain, and you are always helpless too.
58 FAITH HARROWBY; OK,
Don't you look back sometimes to the days when you
were well and strong ?"
" I do look back to those days, Miss Faith, but I
don't want to live them again ; they are over and done
with, and they had their sorrows too. I'm not saying
that I shouldn't be glad to get back some of the old
strength and ease; and yet I'd rather have an aching
body than an aching heart."
" And your heart doesn't ache now ? "
" Very seldom ; — never as it used in my youth. I
was passionate when I was young, and impatient too. I
wanted to have everything my own way. And I was
proud of being a smart, active girl, and a brisk house-
wife. So you see, Miss, that the very things on which
I prided myself, my smartness and activity, are taken
away. And yet my heart is at rest."
Faith wondered how it could be. And she wondered,
too, if such calm repose of mind would ever have come to
her if she had been in Mrs. Netley's place. The idea of
being confined to one room, — never taking a step across
the floor without crutches, — never going to church, nor
even into the road outside the cottage door, was intoler-
able to her. And then there was the wearying pain to
be borne, sometimes becoming such agony that the poor
swollen limbs could scarcely bear the lightest touch.
And as if this were not enough, there was the difficulty
of getting the common necessaries of life, — daily food,
and fuel for winter use. Yet Mrs. Netley could say,
" My heart is at rest."
Andrew's halting footstep was heard without, and in
another moment he stood within the room. Rollo rose
THE SMUGGLES S CAVE.
59
up from his mistress's side to greet him in canine
fashion, for Netley and the dog thoroughly understood
each other. And Faith had a smile ready for him, for
she liked the man, and respected him for his tenderness
towards his invalid wife. He was tall and powerfully
made, with a handsome bronzed face, frank dark eyes,
and grizzled hair and whiskers. He had already passed
his sixtieth year, but in spite of trials and privations he
retained much of the fire and vigour of youth ; and
there was in his aspect such a blending of strength and
gentleness that even strangers were generally favourably
impressed by him. Yet this was the man against whom
Sir Oscar nourished a dislike wdiich almost amounted
to hatred.
60
CHAPTER X.
AN OLD FRIEND.
'VE brought a partridge for your
wife, Netley," said Faith. " I
know you are a capital cook
and you'll dress it for her,
won't you ? "
" That I will, Miss," he replied, tak-
ing the bird in his hand. " Did this
come from Sir Oscar's covers, Miss,
if I may make so bold as to ask the
question ? "
" Yes ; he brought a couple of brace
our house this morning."
"And little enough he thought that one
'em would find its way into my cottage,"
Netley, with a sparkle of fun in his eyes.
" It's rather a dangerous meal to cook before
a poor man's fire, Miss."
"Not dangerous when honestly obtained,"
rejoined Eaith, smiling. "But if I were the squire,
Netley, you should all have as much game as you
liked."
FAITH HABKOWBY; OK, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 61
" You've "been better to my wife and me than fifty
squires," exclaimed the man, heartily. "But I don't
want Sir Oscar's game, Miss ; and what surprises me is
that a rich gentleman like him should be so dead set
against a poor fellow like me."
"There, never mind it, Netley, let the matter rest,"
gently interposed his wife. And Faith, knowing that
this old grievance was a standard topic of conversation
with Andrew, and having many times listened to all he
had to say on the matter, rose to take her departure.
She bade good-bye to Mrs. Netley, placed the jelly upon
the table within her reach, and went out, respectfully
attended by Andrew to the garden gate.
The day was beginning to wane, and soft crimson
clouds, touched here and there with pale gold, were
blending with the pure blue of the sky. There was a
tender light over all the landscape; a faint purple
haze enfolded the hills, and the air was so still that
scarce a breath stirred the thick foliage of Sir Oscar's
woods.
Faith walked on, musing over her own shortcomings
and Mrs. Netley's excellences, until a turn in the road
brought her in sight of the rector of Marksbourne, who
had just crossed a stile and stepped into the path before
her. Instantly a glow of light and colour flashed into
her face as he came at once to her side. She had been
wont to meet him with that same radiant look years ago,
when he was the curate and she was a little girl under
the care of aunt Dorcas. In those early days Faith had
instinctively recognised in Mr. Brixton "a kindred
spirit ;" and although that familiar phrase has been sadly
62 FAITH HARROWBY; OK,
hackneyed and misused, it yet contains a fund of deep
meaning. For it is this mysterious kinship of souls
which creates the highest and purest kind of enjoyment
that can be known on earth, and affords us, even in this
life, a faint glimpse of that perfect " communion of
saints " which is reserved for us in the life everlasting.
The first greetings which passed between them were
few and brief ; their friendship was of such old standing,
and their mutual acquaintance so thorough, that there
was no need for mere prefatory chit-chat before the real
business of conversation began. And Faith, according to
her usual fashion when the rector was her companion,
at once laid open to him the subject that was uppermost
in her mind.
" I have been to Netley's cottage, Mr. Brixton, learn-
ing some of the old lessons there, and thinking over
them as I came along."
" Did you stand especially in need of those lessons
to-day ? "
"Indeed I did. And Mrs. Netley is an admirable
teacher."
" What has she been teaching you, Miss Faith ? "
"Mainly the lesson of endurance. She thinks that
endurance is often the special work which God gives us
women to do for Him ; and I am sure it's quite true."
" But don't you think that we men have to take our
share of endurance also ? " asked the clergyman, with a
quiet smile.
" Yes, sometimes. However, I believe that we have
the greater need of patience. You can forget — or, at
least, mitigate your troubles in the stirring business of
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 63
an active life ; whereas we can do nothing but just sit
still and endure ; and that, as Mrs. Netley says, is the
hardest work of all."
"You haven't tried our kind of work, Miss Faith;
and you can't possibly judge from your point of view of
our hardships and temptations. Perhaps, if you could
take my place for a time, and be in the thick of the
conflict, you'd be glad to get back to your old wprk of
sitting still."
" I don't think so, Mr. Brixton. I'd rather a thousand
times have been Ulysses, struggling and fighting and
getting shipwrecked, and meeting with perils that
seemed endless, than have waited in Ithaca like poor
Penelope, pestered by those hateful suitors, and working,
working at the tapestry which she never meant to
finish. Wouldn't you ? "
The rector laughed outright, a clear, genial laugh
which was pleasant to hear.
'■' We may not choose our own lot," he said, when his
mouth had settled into its usual grave lines ; " and if we
could, I doubt if we should be satisfied with it. The
chief thing is ' to do our duty in that state of life into
which it hath pleased God to call us.' The faithful ser-
vant shall in no wise lose his reward. Even in the old
Greek story, you remember that Penelope's troubles
had a happy ending. But sometimes the happy ending
doesn't come in this life ; and that, perhaps, is the worst
tiling about novels in general, — they teach the young to
expect that virtue will always be rewarded and vice
punished in this present world."
" It seems hard that it shouldn't be so," remarked Faith.
64 FAITH HARKOWBY; OR,
" I know that it does ; but then we must recollect
that our present existence is in fact only the first page
of our history ; the rest of the volume will be read by
and by, and then it will be seen that there was no
injustice done to the chief character because his wrongs
were not righted in that first page."
They walked on in silence for some paces, until they
came to another turning, which led off from the main
road into a narrow woody lane. And here the rector
stopped suddenly.
" I should like to have walked home with you, Miss
Faith," he said, extending his hand, " but I must go
down here to see poor old Miles. We shall meet on
Thursday, of course, at your sister's wedding breakfast."
Faith's bright face grew cloudy. She had been
debating within herself whether or no she should tell
Mr. Brixton about her own special trial. She had
always been accustomed to confide her earlier sorrows to
him, but now that she had grown up into womanhood
their respective positions were not precisely the same.
And then, too — as she reflected sadly, — it was easier to
speak of the griefs of the child than of the troubles of
the woman. Yet at that moment it seemed so exceed-
ingly hard to bear the full weight of her cross alone,
that she had much ado to keep back the tears.
" Good-bye," she said, quietly, giving him her hand.
" Why, what ails you, my child? "
The question was put quickly and in an altered tone.
" Oh, Mr. Brixton, I wish I were a little girl again ! I
have a heavy burden to carry, and sometimes I think
that it will break my spirit."
THE SMUGGLEKS' CAVE. 65
" Can you tell me what it is ? "
" I don't know how to do so ; and yet I wish you
knew it."
" Well, there's one thing I can do for you, even if I
cannot soothe your sorrow, and I need not say what that
is. But I am so grieved for you, my poor child ! I
thought you had been thoroughly enjoying your life.
Those London seasons are what most young folks
delight in."
" I detested them," said Faith, with sudden energy ;
" one week in Marksbourne is better than a year in
London. But now the cloud has followed me home."
" Cheer up I there may be a bright light behind it."
The rector's voice and smile were full of encourage-
ment, and Faith began to take heart. She parted with
him and wended her way home, feeling all the better for
that talk with her old friend and counsellor. So Eollo
went round to his house near the stables, w r ell satisfied
with his ramble ; and his mistress repaired to her own
room, in improved spirits, to dress for dinner.
66
CHAPTER. XL
THE SQUIRE OF MAKKSBOURNE.
you feel as if you could pick
a bit of that partridge, missus? "
asked Andrew Xetley of his
wife. She was feeling weaker
than usual ; it had been one of
her " dark days," as she phrased
it, and the wearisome pain had
left her faint and exhausted.
" Yes, Netley, I think I'll try to eat;
I'm a little easier now."
It was the evening of the day which
followed Faith's visit. The little cot-
tage room looked neat and cosy, as
usual. The door was shut now, and a
lighted candle stood upon the table, for it
was eight o'clock. Andrew rose from his
seat, and laying aside his pipe, bestirred
himself with hearty good-will, and went
rattling about among the cooking utensils. The bird
had already been plucked, and after trussing it, he
fastened a piece of string to an iron hook fixed into
FAITH HARROWBY; OK, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 69
the chimney-piece, and thus suspended the delicate
morsel in front of the fire.
" Miss Faith is very good to me," said Mrs. Netley,
as she watched her husband's proceedings. " I do hope
and pray that she may have a happy life," she added,
musingly; "she's got her trials, I'm afraid."
" Brigham — he's the head gardener at the abbey,
missus — told John Stone 'twas his belief the squire was
after Miss Faith."
"But it takes two to make a bargain, Netley; and
Miss Faith isn't one to be easily caught."
"She won't be a happy woman if she marries Sir Oscar,"
remarked Andrew, who never had a good word to say for
the squire. " He's no friend to the poor, that he isn't;
and he'd just break her heart with his evil temper."
" Well, well, don't say hard things of him," said the
wife, softly. " And as to Miss Faith — bless her heart, —
there's One above who will look after her."
The partridge was beginning to smell savoury ; and
Andrew, his face red with stooping over the fire, was
carefully basting it, when the sound of footsteps
approaching the door made him pause. Then there was
a sharp knock, and he went to withdraw the bolt, still
holding the basting-spoon in his hand.
A tall dark figure was standing on the threshold, and
a stern voice said abruptly," 1 want to have a word with
you, Netlev."
Andrew knew the tones at once. " Come in, Sir
( ►scar," he replied civilly, and he held the door wide
(•pen that the squire might enter. The unexpected
visitor strode into the little room, scarcely deigning to
70 FAITH HARROWBY; OH,
respond to Mrs. Netley's respectful salutation ; and his
first glance fell upon the half-roasted bird.
" You rascal ! " he broke out furiously. " I always
believed you were in league with a gang of poachers,
and now I've positive proof of it ! I'll have you
transported, I swear I will!"
A dark flush of anger dyed Netley's face, but he kept
down his just indignation by a mighty effort.
" You're mistaken, Sir Oscar," he began, in a quiet tone ;
but the other roughly interrupted him.
"I suppose you'll tell me I can't believe my own
eyes !" he cried, scornfully. "Perhaps you'll say that's
a leg of mutton roasting before your fire, and not one of
my partridges."
" No, Sir Oscar, I shan't tell no lies," replied Andrew,
sturdily. " It be a partridge sure enough : but it was a
free gift to my missus yonder."
" I'll have you convicted as a receiver of stolen goods,"
said the excited squire.
" You can't do that, Sir Oscar, 'cause it weren't stolen.
Miss Faith Harrowby brought it to my missus, her own
self."
" I don't believe you," returned the baronet. " Your
trumped-up stories won't go down with me. Young
ladies who are charitably disposed give away gruel and
beef tea, and that sort of thing, not partridges."
" You've got no right, Sir Oscar, to come here insulting
me, even though I am a poor man," said Andrew,
beginning to lose self-command. "I'm speaking the
plain truth, and if you don't believe me, I'll take the
liberty of telling you to walk out of my cottage \"
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 7L
' : 01i, don't, Netley!" moaned his wife, who was
quaking in every limb.
But her pleading voice was drowned by a volley of
oaths from Sir Oscar. She sank back in her chair,
shuddering and hiding her face, while the baronet raged
and stamped like one possessed.
"I won't put up with this," cried Netley, stepping
close up to the squire. " I won't have my wife frightened
to death with your bad language. Come, sir, I've told
you the truth about the bird, and I can't say no more.
♦So, now, there's the door."
Something in the expression of Andrew's eyes warned
Sir Oscar not to provoke him farther. His own figure,
although well formed enough, was no match for the man's
powerful frame, and he did not care to hazard a struggle.
He turned towards the door, muttering, " You'll repent
this," and left the cottage as suddenly as he had entered it.
Andrew closed and bolted the door behind him, and
then addressed himself to the task of soothing his poor
wife, who was making great efforts to suppress her
hysterical sobs. Mrs. Netley 's nerves were weakened by
long-continued pain and ill-health, and the squire's out-
burst of wrath had terrified her exceedingly. She had
dreaded too, knowing her husband's high spirit, lest
angry words might lead to blows, and then she shuddered
to think of the consequences of such a fray.
" 1 >on't take on so, missus," said Netley, tenderly .
" there's no harm done, you know. We've got the right
on our side."
" Yes, yes," she sobbed, " but he frightened me with
his violence. Never mind me, I shall soon be better."
72 FAITH HAEROWBY; OK, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE.
" I wish I'd given him a tap over the head with this
here iron spoon!" exclaimed Andrew, his indignation
vising again.
"Thank God yon didn't! Oh, Netley, promise me that
if ever you've the chance of doing that man a good turn,
you'll do it!"
" That's too hard, missus. The most I can promise '11
be to let him alone ; and I knows that won't be easy."
His wife was calm now, although her pale face and
trembling hands bore witness to the shock she had re-
ceived. Her voice was steady and very gentle when she
spoke again.
"Husband," she said, " won't you try to overcome evil
with good ? It's the only way in which evil ever can be
overcome. It's no use fighting against evil with evil
weapons ; you may cut it down for a time, but it would
be sure to come up again. And if you give good deeds
for hard words, you'll soon find out what strength they
bring you."
" But, missus, I don't see what I could do to serve the
squire, even if I wanted to do him a good turn."
" Your time may come, Netley, and when it does, re-
member who said, ' Do good unto them which despitefully
use you.' Let us pray for Sir Oscar to-night ; we'll ask
(rod to take away his heart of stone, and give him a
heart of flesh."
Andrew listened gravely, turning the words over and
over in his mind. A clean cloth was spread upon the
little round table, and the partridge was served up in
excellent style ; but Mrs. Netley's appetite was not equal
to the occasion.
73
CHArTER XII.
VIOLETS W E D I) I N G.
IOLET stood before the looking-
glass clad in her snowy bridal
garments, and Faith and Eliza, one
on either side, put the finishing
touches to her attire. She was a
very lovely bride, her fair face re-
tained its old childlike expression of sweet-
ness and simplicity, and in character she was
still the timid, confiding Violet of days gone
by. To-day her cheeks were a shade paler
than usual, and she looked, as her sister
thought, like a lily in her rich white dress.
The bouquets had been sent, as promised, from
Sir Oscar's conservatories, and even Faith
could not repress her admiration at the sight
of them. She was to be the only bridesmaid,
albeit a large party of friends, young and
old, were invited to witness the ceremony, and to be
present at the breakfast.
The sisters wisely forbore to touch upon their
approaching separation ; for Violet's tears were very near
FAITH HARROWBY ; 01!,
the brim, and Faith scarcely dared to trust her voice. So
the fair bride swept down the stairs, leaning on her
father's arm, and passed through the little throng of
admiring servants, almost in silence. Faith followed in
another carriage with Aunt Dorcas, and the well-known
drive along the country road to church seemed but as
part of a strange dream. The old lady spoke little as
the carriage rolled along, but she held her niece's small
white-gloved hand firmly in her own, and understood
quite well what was passing in her heart. But when at
length they came in sight of the grand old church, the
bridesmaid drew her breath quickly to keep clown a sob.
AVithin those walls, she and Violet had knelt side bv
side at their confirmation, and there they had commemo-
rated the Saviour's dying love. It was strange that at
such a time as this, the past should seem more real to
her than the present, and yet as she walked quietly up
the stately aisle, and lifted her eyes to the glories of the
east window, she was thinking chiefly of those old days.
The rector's voice, reading the opening words of the
solemn service, broke the spell, and she began to watch
the bride with an anxious look. She saw how the
flowers trembled in Violet's bouquet,and how faint lines of
softly coloured light slanted downwards on her trailing
white garments. It was soon over, — Violet Harrowby
and Charles Redwyn were made one, and then there were
the customary adjournment to the vestry, the usual con-
gratulations, and the signing of the register with unsteady
fingers. After that, the bridal party passed down to the
west door, while flowers were strewn before the bride's
footsteps, and the organ pealed forth the Wedding March.
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 75
Then came the wedding breakfast, with its trying
ordeal of speeches ; and the chief actors on the occasion
rejoiced when it came to an end. The bride and bride-
groom had wisely arranged to take their departure early,
and the real trial of parting was got over quickly by the
sisters, up-stairs. In the presence of the guests no tears
were shed either by Faith or Violet ; and only the rector
caught the look in Faith's face when the carriage drove
away. It was a look that touched him to the heart.
She made her way to aunt Dorcas's side, and as the
guests were chatting sociably among themselves, she was
permitted to have a few quiet moments. Only a very
few, however, for an incident occurred which effectually
roused her from her musings, and forced her to bestir
herself.
Sir Oscar Northwood, Mr. Hazelhurst, and another
gentleman were standing in a little group near her seat,
talking to Colonel Harrowby, and occasionally a word or
two of their conversation reached her ears, although she
gave small heed to what they were saying. At last, the
tone of Sir Oscar's voice, speaking almost excitedly,
caught and fixed her attention.
" These poaching fellows must be kept down," he
said ; " and I'll tell you, Hazelhurst, who is the coolest
hand among them, and that's the rascal Netley, who lives
in one of your cottages."
" I can scarcely think it," answered Mr. Hazelhurst ;
" he's a civil, industrious fellow, and lame too ! 1 fancy
you're mistaken."
" Mistaken ! " echoed Sir Oscar. " Well, you shall
hear how I caught him out. I went to his cottage last
(0 FAITH HARROWBY; OR,
night to ask him a few questions. I've always been
sure he must hear something of the poachers as he lives
so near the covers, and secretly I believed him to be in
league with them, although I had no actual proof of
the fact. He seemed awfully taken aback when he
opeued the door to me ; and that arrant hypocrite, his
wife, saluted me in an obsequious manner as I came in.
And what do you suppose was roasting before his fire ?
Why, as I live, there was a plump partridge !"
" Scandalous !" exclaimed the colonel, who was a strong-
advocate for keeping down the lower classes.
"But how did he come by it?" asked the more tem-
perate Hazelhurst.
" He owned that it came from my covers," Sir Oscar
replied, and he told me a cock-and-bull story of its being
given to his wife by Miss Faith Harrowby "
Faith prevented the conclusion of the sentence by
coming forward, and standing before the speaker.
" ISTetley told you the truth, Sir Oscar," she said, quiet lv-
" I carried one of those birds which you brought me, to
his wife, hoping that it might tempt her to eat. And
you must pardon me for saying that she is no hypocrite."
"But, Miss Faith," rejoined the baronet, softening his
voice when he spoke to her, " don't you think it likely
that these people are too deep for you ? You are so un-
suspicious that I fear your good nature is often imposed
upon."
" You must have a very bad opinion of my pene-
tration," Faith said, with a smile. " But I can assure
you that I have known the Netleys for a long time, and
have proved them to be honest and trustworthy."
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 77
"Pshaw, Faith!" put in the colonel, impatiently.
" You are not up to the tricks of the lower orders. And
[ greatly disapprove of your feeding them with dainties ;
it's a bad system, and won't answer at all."
" Surely, colonel," interposed the rector, good-
humouredly, " you don't object to an occasional dainty
bein£ uiven to a sick woman."
" But these sort of folks, rector, are always sham-
ming ; — it's their way," said the colonel.
" Pardon me," returned Mr. Brixton, in a more decided
manner, " it is my business as a clergyman to go about
among them ; and I am bound to say I find but little
shamming. Patience, courage, and endurance I do find,
and I have seldom seen a better example of Christian
fortitude than manifested by Mrs. Netley."
Colonel Harrowby was silent, and then the conver-
sation took another turn. But Sir Oscar sought Faith's
side, and strove to do away with the unfavourable im-
pression he had made. The rector, quietly using his
eyes, discovered many things that morning, andamongsl
other matters, he found out what that trouble was which
Faith could not tell him.
^^^^M^
SW^^
CHAPTER XI IT.
SIR OSCAR'S INTENTIONS.
OLONEL HAEROWBY had insisted
that his daughter's wedding day should
J be brought to a close by a ball, to
which all the county families were
invited.
FAITH HAKROWBY; OK, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 70
It was weary work, however, and "before the festivities
were half over, Faith found herself longing ardently
for a few quiet hours of rest and solitude. It was,
moreover, a great annoyance to find that Sir Oscar
managed to keep close by her side, despite her efforts to
free herself from his society. And the guests were not
slow in remarking his attentions, and in commenting
on them among themselves. The baronet was fully
aware that his manner of speaking of the Xetleys had
not raised him in Faith's estimation, and he now strove
steadfastly to gain her good opinion by every means in
his power.
"You were angry with me this morning, Miss Faith,"
he said, gently, when he found an opportunity of
speaking to her apart. " You may be sure I did not
know that those Xetleys were proteges of yours, or I
would have let them alone if they had left my covers
bare."
"That wouldn't have pleased me, Sir Oscar," Faith
answered, simply; "if a man is a poacher he deserves
punishment. But I think you have misjudged Andrew
Netley."
"Perhaps I have. I have often thought of late that
I ought to take more interest in the poor people of
Marksbourne. Can't you teach me to understand them
better, and to be of use to them, Miss Faith ? "
" The rector will tell you exactly what is needed," she
replied. " He is intimately acquainted with all their
requirements, and I know he will be heartily glad of
your aid."
" Oh, I don't care about working with clergymen !
80 FAITH HAKROWBY; OR,
They are so insufferably conceited," exclaimed Sir Oscar,
his natural temper getting the mastery over his desire
to please.
" What's that about clergymen ? " asked Ada Hazel-
hurst, coming up at the moment. " We know you don't
like them, Sir Oscar, for we never see you inside a
church."
Faith gladly took the opportunity to move off in
another direction ; and at length the ball, so wearisome
to her, came to a close. She was free then to seek her
own chamber, to strip off her jewels, and take the rest
for which she had longed. But before she laid her head
on the pillow she knelt and prayed earnestly for strength
to tread the difficult path which lay before her. She
asked that light from above might shine upon the rugged
road to make the way plain. And then, rising from her
knees, she looked up again at the text upon the wall,
and went to sleep with those words upon her lips, —
" Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a
crown of life."
Sir Oscar Northwood left Colonel Harrowby's house
fuming with ra<>e. He was always, as he told himself,
making false steps, and losing ground with Faith,
instead of gaining it. His unreasonable hatred of
Andrew Netley was doubled and trebled now, — the
Netleys would doubtless give their own version of the
partridge story to their benefactress, and she would
dislike him for his unjustifiable conduct towards those
who had no means of retaliation. Sir Oscar's life had
been an unbroken stream of prosperity, he had never
known what it was to have a desire thwarted or a com-
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 81
raand disobeyed ; and parents, guardians, tutors, and
servants, had all combined to spoil him. He was left
fatherless at the age of fourteen, and very soon he suc-
ceeded in getting the upper hand of his gentle, feeble-
minded mother, who died a few years later. And then
came a desultory, irregular course of education, for the
boy ran away from school, and contrived fairly " to get
the bit between his teeth," as the old coachman was
wont to say of him. His mother's maiden sister, Lady
Harriet Churton, came down to Marksbourne Abbey to
preside over her nephew's establishment, and keep the
wild young baronet himself in check, as far as she was
able. She played her part with considerable skill, and
as years passed on, Sir Oscar might be said to have
settled clown. But the ungovernable temper, the frantic
impatience of restraint, and selfish determination to
gratify his own desires at any cost, — these charac-
teristics remained unchanged in him. Good influence
and careful training might have done much to eradicate
his faults, but I scarcely think that the wisest tuition
in the world could have made him an amiable or a
lovable man. His utter contempt of religion scanda-
lized even Lady Harriet, who was not herself over-
particular in such matters. She generally ordered the
carriage and drove to church once on a Sunday in fine
weather, but if the day chanced to be too hot or too
cold, or if the clouds threatened rain, she made a point
of remaining at home. But she would have preferred
that her nephew should sometimes accompany her
instead of spending his Sunday mornings in reading
the newspapers, or idling away the time with his horses
82 faith ilvrrowpv; or,
and dogs. She was not present at Violet's wedding,
neither did she attend the ball which followed it, for a
slight cold had confined her to the house. But she
had sent her congratulations and a graceful present to
the bride, and she began to question Sir Oscar about
the festivities, when they sat together at lunch on the
following day.
" And how did the ball go off, Oscar ? " she asked, as
she contemplated her nephew's moody face.
" Just the same as any other ball," he answered.
" But who were there ? "
" Oh, all the county, — too many people for the rooms,
— a great crush."
" Ah, that was a mistake. And was Faith Harrowby
looking her best ? That girl requires careful dressing,
with her dark complexion, but I must do her the justice
to say that she really gets herself up very creditably."
"She looked very well. But the fact is that she's
spoiled, — absolutely. spoiled! She's got into the habit
of poking about among the cottages like a Methodist.
Besides the absurdity of the thing, she is constantly
getting deceived ; she listens to the cant of a pack of
poachers and their wives, and is led to believe the most
preposterous nonsense. It's a pity, — a very great pity !"
"There must have been something defective in her
education," said Lady Harriet. " Her father was abroad
in India for many years ; who had the care of her ? "
" That old lady, Miss Harrowby. She must have let
the girl have her own way completely," replied Sir
Oscar, musingly, " and that's about the worst thing in
the world for a woman."
THE SMUGGLERS CAVE. 8.5
An amused smile rippled across Lady Harriet's well-
preserved face for a moment ; it was something new to
hear Sir Oscar moralize, and she felt half disposed to
ask him if having one's own way was bad only for
women. But she saw that his temper was chafed, and
wisely refrained from irritating him.
" She gives herself airs," he went on, after a pause,
"and puts on a sort of superiority which doesn't suit
me at all."
"She'd be all the better for a little good advice, I
dare say. But you haven't said one word about the
other girls who were there, Oscar."
" I don't believe I took much notice of them. The
truth is, Aunt Harriet, that Faith Harrowby would
please me very well indeed if she wasn't so awfully
spoiled. And in short, — I "
" Yes, Oscar, I perfectly understand," interposed Lady
Harriet, coming to her nephew's assistance ; " and I
shouldn't think there would be any difficulty about the
matter. Shall I invite her to stay with me ? You may
be sure that her father is your ally."
" Yes, that's a very good idea ; and if we can get her
here, you'll do your best to improve her, and talk her
out of her absurdities."
" Very well," said Lady Harriet, " the thing shall be
done." She was already growing tired of her life at
Marksbourne Abbey. And as she had lately inherited
an independent fortune, she was quite ready to set up
an establishment of her own, and to resign her post to a
new comer.
CHAPTEE XIV.
TROUBLED WATERS.
HEEE was daily need of all Faith's strength
and patience, for Colonel Harrowby was
terribly exacting and imperious ; and now
$fc% that Violet was gone, she had to bear the
burden alone. A heavy burden it was, for the colonel
FAITH HAREOWBY; OR, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 85
was in a chronic state of resentment ; Faith's coldness
to Sir Oscar North wood was a perpetual source of irrita-
tion to him, and the more he encouraged the baronet's
visits, so much the more did Faith discourage his
attentions. In all other matters she was dutiful and
obedient ; the household affairs were well regulated, and
all his peculiar tastes and fancies were scrupulously
studied and gratified. Yet she got no credit for these
things, — the colonel was ever on the watch for some-
thing to grumble at, and she found that, with all her
care, he would not be pleased.
" Sir Oscar rode over here this afternoon," he said to
her, as they sat at dinner one evening. " You were out
as usual, — you always do contrive to be out when it is
my particular wish that you should be at home."
" I had gone to see Aunt Dorcas, papa."
" It doesn't matter where you were gone, — you ought
to have been in the house when you were wanted. Sir
Oscar brought a note for you from Lady Harriet. Have
you read it yet ? "
"No, papa; I have not had time to open it. You
know I only came in, just before dinner."
"You are always in a hurry," growled the colonel.
And then the dessert was placed upon the table, and the
servants withdrew. " You can read your note now," he
said, as she helped herself to fruit. " You don't seem
anxious to learn its contents."
Faith left her fruit untasted, and obediently proceeded
to open the delicate envelope which bore the stamp
of a coronet. Her father closely scrutinized her face
while her eyes were fixed on the tiny sheet of paper,
86 FAITH IIAEROWBY; OK,
and he saw her dark brows contract once or twice as
she read.
"Well?" he asked, eagerly, when she had laid it
quietly beside her plate ; "what do you say to it?"
" It is an invitation to stay at the Abbey, papa."
" I know it is ; and of course you will accept it, Faith."
" I had rather not, papa,"
" But I have already accepted it for you ; I told Sir
Oscar you would go."
Faith's colour rose, and the old fire began to sparkle
in her eyes, but she controlled herself, and answered
quietly :
" I am sorry for that, papa ; because I very much wish
to decline."
"And why should you wish to decline?" cried the
colonel, becoming excited, " Why should you seek occa-
sion to insult your father's friends ? Is that behaving
like a dutiful daughter?"
She was silent.
"Come, Faith, I will have a reply. Why do you
object to go to the Abbey ? "
" Well, papa, I will answer you straightforwardly. I
do not care about Lady Harriet Churton ; I could not
make a friend of her."
"She is a very agreeable woman," said the colonel;
" there is no earthly reason why you should shun her
acquaintance, saving that I wish you to cultivate it. It
seems to me, Faith, that it is only for me to express a
wish and you instantly oppose it."
" Papa, I wish you wouldn't say so. I really do strive
to please you."
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 87
" Only to a certain extent ; but you are never willing
to gratify me at the expense of your own inclinations."
There was a degree of cunning in this speech which
was hard to deal with. He knew that Faith dared not
give him her chief reason for shunning the Abbey and
its inmates, — dared not admit to him that she was striv-
ing to ward off that declaration which she could see that
►Sir Oscar intended to make. Again she had recourse to
silence.
" Now, Faith," he continued, pursuing his advantage,
" I ask you just for once to yield your wishes to mine.
Even if you don't like Lady Harriet, you might accept
her invitation, to please your father."
"Dear papa, can't you ask me to do anything else ?"
" No ; surely, it is a very simple request, and it doesn't
involve a great amount of self-sacrifice."
" Don't urge me, papa," she pleaded, desperately.
" I don't want to go there, — indeed, I can't go."
She was answered, as she had expected, by a storm of
passionate reproaches, during which she sat white and
trembling. She felt then that she must give in, there
Mas no help for it, and she waited until the colonel
paused for breath, to say in a low unsteady tone :
"Very well, papa, I will obey you; but remember
that I have done my utmost to escape this visit." And
with these words she retreated from the room.
A sleepless night followed this stormy scene, and when
Faith rose in the morning she felt that mind and body
were severely taxed. She took her place at the break-
fast-table with a pallid face and heavy eyes ; but the
colonel had the satisfaction of seeing a note addressed to
88 FAITH HARKOWBY; OB,
Lady Harriet given to the groom, who was bidden to ride
over with it to the Abbey. He was kinder than usual
to his daughter during the morning meal, but she seemed
to be too weary and heart-sick to respond to his efforts
at conversation. He began to fear that he had gone too
far.
" You had better take a ride this morning, Faith," he
said, in a softer tone than he generally used.
" No thank you, papa, I prefer walking."
Shortly afterwards she left the house, unattended this
this time by Eollo, and made her way into the turnpike
road, — the same road which the wedding carriages had
taken a fortnight before. It was another genial, quiet
day, the landscape wore its softest colours, and the sky
was calm and bright. All over hill and lowland there
were delicate lights and varied shadows, and the faint
tinkle of the sheep-bells came drifting down from the
distant slopes. But Faith's tears flowed fast as she
walked along, for the peaceful aspect of the scene re-
minded her of the days when she had carried a lighter
heart over that well-known road, and had loved to
watch the mellow tints of September stealing over the
old woods.
Two miles were traversed before she reached the
church. She knew that the early morning service would
be over before she got there, but her home-ties rendered
it impossible for her to attend it. She had come with
the intention of spending a little time alone in that
sacred place; longing for the peace and quiet which
reigned within its walls.
She found the west door left unfastened, and went in,
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 8[>
with noiseless steps, that awakened no echoes in the
empty aisles. It was very still, and grand, and solemn ;
the tall white arches were touched here and there with
coloured light, and the marble floor of the chancel was
strewn with shifting tints, like fragments oi' a rainbow.
Faith walked straight up to the knight's tomb, and stood
looking down at the quaint sculptured warrior, through
her tears. She put out her hand and touched those cold
stony hands, as she had often done in her childish days,
and then she began to think about " the rest that remain-
eth to the people of God/' When she had first put on
the Christian's armour, resolving, with the Holy Spirit's
aid, that she would be a faithful soldier of the Cross, she
had not expected the strife would be so fierce. In the
day of peace she had taken up the Christian's weapons,
and should she lay them down in the day of battle ?
Never ! while she had strength to use them ; never, until
the Angel of Death came to tell her that the conflict
was ended, and the victory won.
The tears that she wept now did her good ; and she
was still standing by the tomb, her face hidden in her
hands, when a voice pronounced her name ; and looking
up, she saw Mr. Brixton.
CHAPTER XV.
IN THE NET.
^ Y poor child, what ails you ? "
It was not easy to answer the
question, and for some seconds Faith
\ could find no voice to speak at all;
FAITH IIARROWBY; OK, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 91
but at last, calming herself with a great effort, she said
in a whisper, —
" Home trials."
The rector's mind went back to the day when he had
seen the same face looking pale and distressed with the
burden of Margaret Holt's secret. He thought of the
unselfish although mistaken firmness, with which Faith
had stood her ground on that occasion ; and he remem-
bered his old conviction that such a strong will would
have strong trials. But how much easier it was for
him to help and direct the child than to advise the
woman !
" Is it impossible to speak of these trials, Miss Faith?"
he asked.
" I think I must speak of them now, Mr. Brixton ; I
can't keep them to myself any longer."
" Are they connected in any way with Sir Oscar
Northwood ? "
" In every way," Faith answered ; " he is the root of
this evil."
" But what brought you here to weep alone ? "
She told him the truth simply enough, — how she was
to be forced into paying that hated visit to Marksbourne
Abbey, and how intensely she dreaded its results.
" I don't see how you can help going there," he said,
after a pause ; " and as to the results, — you will have to
meet them. You must be firm and steadfast ; the storm
will pass over."
" But it will be so terrible," said Faith ; " and you do
not know how determined papa is, Mr. Brixton."
" You must not suffer anything to drive you into an
92 FAITH HARROWBY ; OR,
unsuitable marriage, Miss Faith. You have a battle to
fight, but you know Who is on your side."
She did know that, and the thought brought her hope
and comfort. They left the church and came into the
quiet graveyard. The soft September air, sweet with
the breath of the late roses which were planted around
the graves, fanned their faces as they stood together
at the gate."
" Good-bye, my child," said the rector ; " do not be
troubled about the future. The Lord will lift up the
light of His countenance upon you, and give you peace."
So Faith went her way homeward again ; and on the
next day Lady Harriet drove over from the Abbey to
fetch her guest.
Eliza had a grave face while she packed her young
lady's box, for, accustomed as she had been to attend
on Faith since her early girlhood, she could not help
seeing that the visit was distasteful to her. Often in
her heart of hearts Eliza had wished that the colonel
had remained in India, and that Miss Faith had been
left in the safe hands of Aunt Dorcas. It vexed her to
see her dear mistress so sorely worried and distressed.
She was standing with the key in her hand when
Faith entered the room to equip herself for the drive ;
and as their eyes met, each seemed to read the other's
thoughts. Then breaking through her usual habits,
Eliza spoke out with sudden earnestness.
" Dear Miss Faith, you'll be firm, won't you ? You
must forgive me for speaking so freely, but I do beg and
pray of you never to be talked into marrying Sir Oscar !"
" You don't like him, Eliza ? " said Faith, inquiringly.
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 93
" Like liim ! No Miss Faith, that's impossible. And
mark my words, he's got a spite against Andrew Netley,
and he'll have him turned out of his cottage yet."
" I hope not, Eliza ; Mr. Hazelhurst owns that cottage,
and he is favourably disposed towards the Netleys."
She tried hard to conquer the feeling of resentment
against the colonel when he handed Lady Harriet and
herself to the carriage ; and she did her best to chat
sociably with her companion as they drove on towards
the abbey. But her task of self-control was no easy one,
and there was a weight upon her spirit which she could
not shake off.
The road led them past Netley's cottage, and there
was Andrew himself at work in the little garden. He
raised his head as the carriage rolled by, and his quick
eye recognised Faith, even through her thick veil. His
face darkened for an instant, but he saluted the ladies
respectfully, and Faith nodded in her usual cordial
manner. Lady Harriet, however, did not vouchsafe him
any notice.
" That man is a poacher," she remarked, with an air of
conviction.
" No, Lady Harriet, I am sure he is not ; I have known
him for many years," said Faith, firmly.
Here was an opportunity for Sir Oscar's aunt to talk-
Faith out of those notions which were so objectionable
to the baronet, and she seized it at once.
" My dear child," she began, affectionately, " I know
how charitably disposed you are, and every one must
admit that charity is a sweet womanly quality, but it
should be kept within proper bounds. Now you really
94 FAITH HARROWBY; OR,
should not visit those Netleys, they are bad people, and
are linked in with a sadly low set,"
" Supposing that they are bad people, Lady Harriet,
is that a good reason why they should never be
visited?"
" Of course, my dear, the rector or the curate can go
and see them, and give them tracts, and that sort of
thing. But there really is no reason why a young lady
should deal with such dreadful persons."
Faith smiled. " You don't know the Netleys as I do,"
she said quietly. " But I can't quite agree with you in
thinking that the clergy ought to do all the visiting
work. And I believe that there are some of those
' dreadful people ' who would shut up their hearts against
a clergyman just because he comes to them in his official
capacity, while they would open them to a woman who
does not appear in the character of an authorized
instructor. And surely it is only right to help God's
ministers as much as we can ; there is always a lack of
labourers, although the harvest is plenteous."
Lady Harriet set Faith down as an unmanageable
girl, but she held her peace.
The carriage rolled under the great gateway built of
massive grey stone, and on into the Abbey grounds, until
it drew up before the front entrance of the magnificent
old pile. Until the reign of Henry VIII. Marksbourne
Abbey had been occupied by a company of Cistercian
monks, but this religious community shared the fate of
others, and their place of abode having passed into the
King's hands, was afterwards bestowed by him upon Sir
Oscar Northwood's ancestors. The Abbey church had
THE SMUGGLERS CAVE.
91
perished long ago, but much of the original monastery
remained ; there was still the dormitory, a long room
divided into separate cells, which were now principally
used as store-rooms ; and the refectory. There might
also be seen the ancient chapter-house, enriched with
curiously carved devices, and having a ceiling which was
a marvel of quaint fretted stonework.
But Faith was in no mood to appreciate the antiquities
of the Abbey that evening. "When she went in to dinner,
with her hand resting reluctantly upon Sir Oscar's arm,
she felt as if the meshes of a net were being gathered
closer and closer around her, and knew she must make
a vigorous dash to break through them.
^MkMm,
- rjp^i v _V~ r^S^f — ^rr"-~^l —
CHAPTER XVI.
FAITH BREAKS THE NET.
T dinner, Sir Oscar gave Faith a piece of
information. He mentioned carelessly
that he had purchased Netley's cottage
of Mr. Hazelhurst.
7i<X A « i thought that Mr. Hazelhurst had
refused to sell it," said Lady Harriet.
FAITH HAKROWBY ; OR, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 97
" So lie did ; but I've persuaded him to let me have
it."
Faith listened, and held a debate within herself. She
greatly disliked the idea of asking any favour of Sir
Oscar, and yet she could not think without pain of poor
Mrs. Net-ley being forced to leave the home she loved so
well, and which had been hers ever since her marriage.
She recalled all the little arrangements for his wife's
comfort which Andrew had made with his own hands,
and felt that in the poor woman's ailing condition it
would indeed be an act of cruelty to remove her to
another place. And she resolved to lay the matter
before the baronet when she could obtain a fitting oppor-
tunity, and plead with him for her humble friends. In
Lady Harriet's presence she determined not to open
her lips on the subject.
It had been decided that Faith was to spend a week
at the Abbey, and no amount of pressing could induce
her to lengthen the term of her visit. She had arrived
on Friday evening, and Saturday morning was spent in
exploring all the most ancient portions of the house ;
she was shown those parts which had been occupied by
the monks, and the antique beauty of the chapter-house
interested and delighted her. Sir Oscar himself cared
nothing at all for these matters, but he was not slow to
affect an interest which he did not feel, in order to give
Faith pleasure. He found that her cold manner thawed
a little when he discoursed with her of the relics of
bygone times, and he racked his brains to recall the
old legends of the Abbey which he had heard from his
father's lips. Then they repaired to the library, and he
H
98 FAITH HARROWBY; OR,
made unwonted researches among the family papers to
gain information respecting the early days of his ancient
domicile. It was such a rare thing to see him taking
the trouble to gratify any human being save himself,
that Lady Harriet looked on in utter amazement, and
decided that her nephew must be very much in earnest
indeed.
But when Sunday morning came, the baronet brought
his aunt's astonishment to a climax by stating his in-
tention of going to church. And the open carriage with
its superb pair of chestnuts drove away from the Abbey
with Lady Harriet and Faith in it side by side, while
Sir Oscar occupied the seat opposite to them. I think it
was the most uncomfortable Sunday morning service
that Faith had ever gone through. Prayers and psalms
and lessons failed to awaken any feeling of devotion,
and as far as she was concerned, the curate's sermon
was preached to deaf ears. Strive as she would against
the feeling, she could not divest herself of the wretched
consciousness that the baronet was by her side, and
that folks would put their own constructions on the
fact. The net had been subtly woven, and the fine
meshes encompassed her round about.
" How silly I am !" she said to herself as she went
to her chamber on her return from church. " I'm a
free English girl, and nobody can compel me to do
anything against my will. But it is always hateful to
be placed in a false position." And then she found
herself wondering what Mr. Brixton had thought of
Sir Oscar's appearance in the pew with her that day.
"He can't misunderstand it, that's certain," she re-
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 99
fleeted. " He knows that it was only to pacify papa
that I came here at all."
Thursday evening came at last, and Faith congra-
tulated herself that the dreaded ordeal was nearly over.
Lady Harriet's maid dressed her hair before dinner, and
while the girl's skilful fingers braided the heavy silken
tresses, Faith's thoughts wandered to her own bedroom
at home. There the old thoughts would come back to
her, and she could read the old devotional books in
peace and security. Her spirits rose, and her face
brightened with the sense of coming freedom, and when
her toilette was completed she went down with a light
step into the drawing-room.
Sir Oscar was there alone. He stood at the window,
half concealed by the light shadow of the muslin cur-
tain, but he turned instantly when Faith entered.
" Come and look at the sky, Miss Faith," he said,
" the sun has just gone down."
She crossed the room and stood beside him, watching
the soft crimson glow flushing the western heavens. A
low wind crept whispering through the shrubs, and
stirred the clustering leaves of the Virginia creepers
that festooned the window, but there was no other
sound, the room was quite still.
Faith suddenly remembered the Netleys and their
cottage. Here was a good opportunity for preferring
her request to Sir Oscar.
" I have a favour to ask you," she began ; " I want you
to promise me, please, Sir Oscar, that you won't turn
the Netleys out of their old home."
He did not immediately reply, and in the hush that
100 FAITH HARROWBY; OR, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE.
succeeded her words, she could hear him draw his
breath quickly. Then he drew a step nearer to her side.
" You shall do as you like with that cottage and
everything else," he answered, " if you will give yourself
to me."
Faith trembled. She had hoped to escape this.
He took advantage of her silence to speak earnestly
and with that eloquence which anxiety often gives. He
set before her the power that he could put into her
hands, — power to help the poor and sick, and to set
on foot many schemes of usefulness. He pleaded for
himself, — asking her to be to him the counsellor and
companion he so sorely needed. And last of all, he
told her that the colonel's consent had already been
willingly granted, and that in refusing hers, she was
thwarting the strongest wish of her father's life.
Before he had finished, Faith had grown calm and
firm. Courteously, and as one who had a due sense of
the honour done her, she spoke her quiet negative.
Lady Harriet's entrance at the moment put a stop to
anything more that the baronet might have intended to
say. But she had done her best to make him under-
stand that her answer was a final one ; and it was with
a sense of infinite relief that she felt she had broken
through the net.
•**£$£*
101
CHAPTER XVII.
MRS. NETLEY GOES HOME.
t<4
NDREW NETLEY received a
week's notice to quit his cottage.
He was only a weekly tenant, as
many of the Marksbourne peasants
were, and Sir Oscar had taken
advantage of this to compel him to
leave his old home in seven days.
It was a cruel and an unjustifiable
the baronet's part, but the power was
hands and he did not scruple to use
Mrs. Netley's health had been failing percep-
tibly for some months, and both Faith and Mr.
Brixton had felt convinced that her life of
p patient suffering was drawing near its close.
It was not easy for Andrew to find another
{ place of abode in such a short space of time,
f and feeling that his poor wife was ill-fitted for
a rough lodging, he went to the rector in his trouble, and
consulted him as to what he should do. And the rector
persuaded his gardener (who was a single man) to receive
the Netleys for a while.
102 FAITH HAKKOWBY; OR,
In the meantime, Faith's path did not lie among
roses ; for the colonel was enraged beyond measure at
the failure of his hopes. His daughter at last, worn out
with his reproaches, went to Aunt Dorcas and entreated
her to come and reason with him. So Miss Harrowby
presented herself one morning at her brother's house,
and informed him that she intended to spend a few days
under his roof. The colonel welcomed her, as in duty
bound, although he strongly suspected her of conniving
at Faith's obstinacy. They talked the affair over, calmly
at first, and then the colonel's temper got the better of
him, as it usually did, and he raved and stormed after
his ordinary fashion. But Aunt Dorcas was a match for
him, and she persisted in being heard. She set his con-
duct before him in its true colours, and succeeded in
reducing him to silence. After her visit was over, he
still continued harsh and gloomy, but there were no
more violent outbreaks, and Faith was devoutly thank-
ful for the comparative peace.
Sir Oscar was growing more and more unpopular
among his poorer tenantry, and Eliza appeared to take
pleasure in recounting to her mistress all the hard things
that were said of him. Faith did her best to check these
tales, but they only convinced her that she had been
right in the step she had taken. She seldom saw
anything of Lady Harriet Churton, and to her great relief,
the baronet had never crossed her path since her visit to
the Abbey.
One afternoon, somewhere about the end of October,
Faith and Eollo set out on a visit to Mrs. Netley.
Yellow leaves drifted about their footsteps, and the
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 103
autumn wind sighed mournfully through the faded trees.
There was a grey sky flecked with silvery clouds, and
the rooks flapped their sable wings over the brown and
furrowed fields, breaking the stillness with their loud
clamour. Thinking, as she often did, of summers past
and gone, and musing a little over those lessons which
the dying year never fails to teach, Faith walked on
rapidly, folding her shawl closely round her, as the chill
breeze came moaning by.
The gardener's cottage, wherein the Netleys were now
lodged, stood close by the rectory grounds, and thither
she directed her steps. She passed the church, which
looked grey and solemn in the subdued light of that
autumn day, — passed also the iron gates of the rectory,
and caught a glimpse of the quaint, many-gabled house
half hidden by trees. And then turning down into a
shadowy lane, she stopped before a tiny thatched
cottage, and knocked softly at the door.
It was opened by Andrew, whose face brightened at
the sight of his visitor.
" Come in, Miss, come in," he said, eagerly. " She'll
be glad enough to see you ; poor thing, she has been
hoping that you would call to-day."
Faith followed him into a little prim parlour, and
through a door leading to a small bedchamber. She
stepped gently to the side of the bed, and drawing back
the curtain, bent down over the pillow, while Andrew
withdrew.
" So glad !" whispered Mrs. Netley's weak voice, and
the wasted hand held Faith's in a feeble clasp.
" Are you much worse to-day?" Faith asked, tenderly.
104 FAITH HAKROWBY; OR,
" Not worse, Miss, only I feel that I'm drawing near
home."
" Don't you think you will rally again yet, and stay
with us a little longer ? "
" No ; you're so good to me, — you and the rector, —
but you can't keep me here now. And I should be glad
to go, Miss Faith, if it wasn't for leaving my husband."
" Dear Mrs. Netley, we won't forsake him."
" Thank you, Miss Faith. He'll listen to you when
I'm gone, and I want you to charge him to carry out my
wish, I "
Her breath failed when she spoke earnestly, and she
paused to gain strength. Faith brought her some wine
(for the rector had sent all necessary nourishments), and
held the glass to her lips.
" You'll tell Andrew, Miss," she continued, " that he
must forgive Sir Oscar. He's terribly bitter against him
now, and says it's the squire's fault that I'm dying.
But anyhow, I shouldn't have lived long, and oh ! he
must forgive him !"
" I'll talk to him about it, Mrs. Netley. Don't let that
disturb your peace."
" Tell him, Miss Faith, that if he ever loved his poor
wife, he will do Sir Oscar a good turn for her sake.
Tell him to watch for an opportunity of returning good
for evil."
" I will do so, I promise."
" It may be only the fancy of a sick woman, and yet
I believe that the opportunity will come. I think that
somehow — I can't tell in what way — Andrew may be
of service to Sir Oscar."
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 105
She was silent for a time, but her face wore a calmer
look, and Faith knew that it had relieved her to speak
as she had done.
"The light has come to me now, Miss Faith," she
whispered, presently. " I waited for it long. And
you'll be firm and patient,won't you ? After all, it's only
for a little while, — the weary waiting-time, — and then
He shall wipe away all tears/'
For an instant Faith could not reply, save by a
pressure of the hand she held. And just then the rector
quietly entered the room.
He greeted Faith with a few brief words, and turning
to the dying woman, he spoke to her in a low tone.
He said but a few sentences, but they brought a bright
smile into her fading face ; and he knelt by the bedside
to repeat one or two of the old familiar prayers she loved
so well. And when they were ended, Faith bent down
to say good-bye.
" Good-bye," Mrs. Netley said, in a clearer voice than
before ; " God bless you, dear Miss Faith ; good-bye."
She knew then, that she had seen Mrs. Netley for the
last time, and she went out of the cottage with a full
heart,
The shadowy lane was filled with the splendour of the
sunset. The church walls glowed in the crimson light,
and the west window glittered as if it had been set on
fire. The tall spire stood bathed in glorious colour,
pointing far upwards to the deep rose-tinted clouds ; and
all over the quiet graves lay the strangely solemn
radiance. Faith stood still, and looked around through
her tears.
106 FAITH HARROWBY; OR, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE.
Mr. Brixton came up the lane to her side, and they
walked forwards some paces without uttering a word.
Then they talked calmly of the mysteries of Life and
Death, and of her who was nearing the very gates of
Paradise.
Homeward over the fast-darkening roads they went
together, and did not part unti] they reached the gates
of Colonel Harrowby's house. Then the rector retraced
his steps, and Faith went indoors, feeling soothed and
quieted.
And that morning, just at daybreak, Mrs. Netley
died.
107
CHAPTER XVIII.
FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.
3EEKS passed on, and Christmas
was drawing near. Faith had not
failed to tell Andrew of his wife's
last injunctions to her, and he had
solemnly promised to obey her
wish if ever he had power to do so.
" Not that I think such a chance
will come in my way, Miss," he said.
" But I'll strive to forgive the squire, since
she wished it. It was a cruel thing, though,
to turn a dying woman out of her home."
" Never mind, Andrew ; she has gone to
those ' many mansions ' where none can
disturb her peace."
Early in December, Faith found herself
confronted by an old trouble, — Sir Oscar
came to Colonel Harrowby and formally
renewed his suit.
All the former thorny path had to be
traversed over again, and Faith begau to grow utterly
weary and heart-sick. The Colonel gave her no peace
108 FAITH HARROWBY; OR,
now ; day after day the storms of fury broke upon her
head ; and even Aunt Dorcas's influence ceased to be
of any avail. It was a period of constant trial, never to
be forgotten.
Meanwhile the poachers were making daring raids
upon the baronet's covers, and he, thwarted in his chief
desire, and exasperated by every fresh annoyance,
became perfectly frantic in his rage against the ma-
rauders. More than once Mr. Hazelhurst gave him a
friendly word of warning, speaking to him frankly of
the disaffection which his harshness created among his
poorer tenantry ; but all in vain. Sir Oscar's excited
imagination saw a poacher in every labourer on his estate,
and the peasants were continually provoked by ground-
less accusations. At last a man was really taken red-
handed by the keepers, and was duly committed for trial.
Unfortunately, he rented a cottage on the baronet's land,
and had a wife and a large family of young children.
For these helpless creatures the rector and several kind-
hearted persons interceded, but without success. They
were turned out of their poor home, and forced to seek
shelter in the workhouse.
But after that, there was more poaching than ever, and
one night Lady Harriet's nerves were much shaken by
an announcement from her nephew. He intended, he
said, to " accompany the keepers to the covers, and look
after the rascals for himself." His aunt protested, but
he refused to draw back, — he had told the men he
would go with them, and he should" enjoy the excitement."
"Supposing you should get hurt, Oscar?" argued
Lady Harriet.
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 109
" No fear of that," he answered ; " I'm well armed,
and shall be a match for any fellow."
But it was with real uneasiness that her ladyship saw
him depart.
It was a clear, frosty night, and the dry leaves crackled
under the keepers' heavy tread, as Sir Oscar followed
them through the dark wood paths to one of their
lodges. He had consumed more than his usual quantity
of wine at dinner, and when he reached the lodge he
deemed it necessary to take a sup or two out of his
brandy flask. He had also liberally provided the men
with spirits, and they, following their master's bad
example, drank to excess.
The distant church clock chimed eleven, and through
the still night air Andrew Netley heard the musical
strokes distinctly, as he was passing by the place where
his old cottage stood. It was seldom, indeed, that
Andrew was out at such a late hour as this. He had
taken up his abode with the rector's gardener, and suc-
ceeded in getting sufficient employment to support him-
self, living a steady, temperate life, and cherishing with
faithful love the memory of his lost wife. And now he
was returning from the neighbouring seaport town,
whither he had gone to see a sailor nephew whose ship
had come in that very morning. It was his intention to
return to Marksbourne by the carrier's cart, but he had
somehow missed that conveyance, and had to perform the
whole distance on foot. At first this had appeared to him
as a serious hardship, for his injured knee greatly im-
peded his walking powers, but before that night was over,
he thanked God that matters had fallen out as they had.
110 FAITH HARROWBY; OR,
" Eleven ! " said Andrew to himself as he counted the
strokes. "Ah, what an old slow-coach I be !"
He sighed as his eyes rested on his old cottage, and
stood still for a few minutes to contemplate the poor
little place, and think of the happy days once spent
within its walls. Then he drew nearer to the garden
gate, and remained motionless, leaning against the
walnut tree. He remembered the day when he had first
brought his wife to her home ; he thought of the time
when their little child was born — the baby that only
lived a few short weeks, and then went back again to
God. Tears rolled fast down his cheeks, and he forgot
his own weariness — forgot the keen night air. They —
the wife and child — were taken, and he was left. He
never knew how long he stood there, like a statue, under
the bare boughs of the old tree ; but the sound of a
hoarse voice, speaking in subdued tones, brought him
back to the present. And those muttered words kept
Andrew still rooted to the spot, a silent listener.
"I tell 'ee I means to do for 'im. Han't he sent
my sister and her children to the work'us ? Han't
he been a-hunting the poor as if they was wild
beasts ? "
" Yes, it's all true enough," returned a second voice,
which sounded clearer than the first. " But he's a rich
man, and — you'd swing for it, you know."
" I don't care much if I do. But there ain't no fear
of that. Who's to swear to me, when there's a lot of us
scufflin' about together like ? And my face is covered
up with this here black stuff ! "
" It don't matter to me what happens to him," rejoined
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. Ill
the second speaker ; " if he wants to keep a whole skin
he'd better stay in his big house and drink his wine,
instead of troubling himself to hunt for poachers. But
p'r'aps we shan't come across him, after all."
• " I tell 'ee I means to come across 'un," said the other,
doggedly.
Then there was silence, broken only by a cautious
rustling in the underwood, as if some persons were
creeping stealthily through the brambles and leafless
branches. Andrew shivered as he stood listening, and a
great horror fell upon him, for he fancied that he could
understand the meaning of the words. Did they not
apply to Sir Oscar Northwood ?
fie looked again at his old home, and with that look
came the recollection of his wife's earnest entreaty ;
bidding him do Sir Oscar a good turn if he ever had the
chance. Was that chance coming now ? Was there to
be granted to him an opportunity of rewarding evil with
good ? And as he thought of this a great struggle began
in his soul, — a struggle of two natures warring one
against the other ; — there, in the winter darkness and
stillness, the angels of God and the emissaries of the
devil encompassed him round about, and without him
and within him the mysterious battle went on. Should
he peril his own life for Sir Oscar's sake ? Or should he
leave the man who had so cruelly injured him to his
fate ?
It was soon over, and then he covered his face for an
instant and prayed God to strengthen him. After that
he crept with quiet steps towards a gate which led into
the covers, and softly tried its fastenings, but they were
112 FAITH HARROWBY; OR,
firm, so that he continued to crouch along in the shadow
of the hedge, seeking for a gap. He found one at last
and forced his way through it, dragging his stout cudgel
after him. Once within the woods, he resolved to bend
his steps towards the keepers' lodge, and give them
warning that mischief was intended. If, as he suspected,
Sir Oscar himself was with them, he determined to tell
him frankly of the threats he had overheard.
He was making up his mind as to what he should say
when he first presented himself before a man who would
probably swear at him and' suspect him ; when the
report of a gun echoed sharply through the woods.
Then there were shouts, cries for help, and sounds of
struggling, all strangely blended together ; and the
noises proceeded from the very quarter towards which
he was hastening. He redoubled his speed now, and
firmly grasping his trusty stick he went crashing
through the underwood as fast as his lameness would
permit. The cries still continued, and more shots were
fired, but Andrew was little prepared for what was to
follow.
Shaking himself free of the clinging brambles, he
dashed out into a side-path where the ground was com-
paratively clear. Here it was not so dark, and the
bright stars might be seen overhead. But what was
this ? A tall figure muffled oddly about the throat
and face, stood directly in front of Andrew, striking
heavy blows upon something which lay upon the ground.
Netley was still a powerful man, and he felt that he
had need of all his strength at that moment. Over the
prostrate body of Sir Oscar, lying motionless among the
FAITH HARROWBY; OR, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 115
dry leaves and dead boughs, a hand-to-hand fight took
place. But the victory was on Andrew's side, and
swiftly and surely he forced the desperate ruffian
farther and farther from the place Avhere his victim
lay. Then the two men closed with each other, wrest-
ling, and straining, and grappling with all their might.
They fell, rolling over and over on the path, but still
clinging together, until at last the iron grasp round
Andrew's waist relaxed, — he was uppermost, and he
i'elt that the mastery was his. But suddenly a sharp
pang — a strange stinging pain — shot through his side.
With some difficulty he raised himself from the body
of his fallen foe, and shouted for help, while he dealt
the man another blow to keep him quiet.
Assistance was not far off, and several keepers rushed
to the spot, for the other poachers had gone off. Some
of them lifted up Sir Oscar and bore him away, while
one or two others gathered round the baronet's assailant,
raising him less gently from the ground.
" You've fought like a man," said one of them to
Netley. " Can't ye lend a hand with him now ?"
" I think I'm 'most done," replied Andrew quietly,
and they saw him press his hand hard upon his side.
I )lher men were forthcoming, and an old neighbour of
Andrew's took him by the arm and led him to the
keeper's lodge.
There was much confusion in the Abbey that night.
Servants were running to and fro, and an eminent sur-
geon was summoned from the nearest town to examine
Sir Oscar's injuries. And when the cold grey dawn
stole in through the little casement of the lodge, it fell
116 FAITH HARROWBX ; OR, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE.
upon Andrew's patient face as he lay on the brick floor,
with the village doctor's assistant stooping over him,
and the rector by his side.
"It's all right," he whispered with a smile. "I've
saved his life, and — I'm going home, — home to her.
The fellow stabbed sharp, doctor, — sharp and deep."
The rector bent his head nearer to the dying man,
and clasped the chill fingers in his own, while he spoke
in a low voice, — telling him of the Life Everlasting.
" You'll give my love and duty to Miss Faith, sir,"
said Andrew, " and you'll tell her that all the revengeful
feelings are gone, — I'm quite happy and contented.
And God bless you, sir, a thousand times, for coming to
me now !"
His life was fast ebbing away, for the wound was
bleeding inwardly. He lay still and tranquil — his head
resting on the rector's arm, and his eyes fixed on the
kind face that bent over him. And just as the wintry
morning sunshine began to send feeble shafts of light
into the deep shadows of the woods, the Angel of Death
came and whispered "Peace."
Mr. Brixton gently laid back the lifeless head, and
rose from his knees. And then, looking down for the
last time on that quiet figure, he was reminded of the
knight who slept so peacefully in the chancel of his old
church ; and instinctively he uttered the words, " Faith-
ful unto death."
CHAPTER XIX.
NOT DIVIDED.
HE winter was over and gone, and the time
of the singing of birds had come again. All
the orchards were full of bloom, and the haw-
thorn covered the hedges. It was May, soft
and balmy, and the country side was fragrant with flowers.
118 FAITH HAIillOWBY ; 01!,
Sir Oscar was still an invalid, just able now to creep
about the Abbey grounds, leaning on his servant's arm.
The rector had told him of Andrew Netley's end, simply
giving him the story, without any comments of his own,
and leaving him to think over it. Sir Oscar did think*
but he could scarcely realize that the man to whom he
had been such a bitter enemy had saved his life. And
he who had dealt Andrew his death-blow was sentenced •
to transportation for life.
Marksbourne was quiet now ; the covers were un-
troubled by poachers, and the poor tenantry were at
peace. Sir Oscar's bailiff was a merciful man, and as
the baronet's strength returned but slowly, the manage-
ment of the estate was left to him.
Faith and Violet were together again, for Charles
Eedwyn had brought his wife to stay at her father's
home. Faith's heart was lighter now that Violet was
in the house, and even the colonel's habitual grimness
relaxed under her influence. She — the young bride —
was so happy, so thoroughly was she contented with her
lot, that it was a pleasure to be in her company. As
yet not a single shadow had fallen across her path, and
Faith was never weary of listening to her descriptions of
her pretty home in the north. Charles, too, was every-
thing that could be desired ; just the protector and com-
panion for gentle, timid Violet. So the time passed
swiftly and pleasantly enough; but a day was coming
which should stir all these hearts to their depths, and
bring about results of which they little dreamed.
" Charlie, won't you take us out on the sea to-day ?"
asked Violet, as they sat at the breakfast-table on a cer-
THE smugglers' cave. 119
tain fair May morning - . " You know I'm longing to get
a whiff of the dear old briny breezes, and so is Faith."
" Yes, I'm ready to go," answered her husband ; " and
as soon as you have finished your breakfast we'll drive
down to the shore, and find Sam Brock."
The plan was carried out, and stores of good things
were packed in hampers for the impromptu water-picnic.
The three — Faith, Violet, and Charles — set off in high
spirits, leaving the colonel at home to do battle with his
old enemy, the gout. Eliza, too, formed one of the little
party, and on that day she had confided a secret to her
mistress, — she was going to be married. Boor Eliza •'
she almost wished afterwards that she had kept the fact
to herself.
It occurred to them on their way to the shore that the
Hazelhursts might be glad to join in the excursion. Mr.
Hazelhurst's house lay directly in their route, so the car-
riage was stopped at the door, and Ada, Kate, and Julia
agreed to follow their friends to the sea-side. Then thev
drove on, and soon came in sight of the school-house,
and the scattered cots of the fisher-folk, all looking better
and neater than they had done in years gone by. But
here a slight disappointment awaited them, for Sam
Brock, on whose company they had reckoned, was absent
from home.
" There's Harry Gower, sir, as is a new comer," said
a little fellow who was mending nets on the shingle.
" He've got a pretty little craft as ever you see. Shall
I fetch him to you, sir ? "
Charles assented, and followed the urchin along the
beach, while Faith and Violet were soon surrounded by
120 FAITH HAKROWBY; OK,
a group of their old acquaintances. Margaret Warner, a
handsome, dark-eyed matron, was spending a day or two
with her mother in Brock's cottage, and she came forward
with her rosy baby in her arms to give them an affection-
ate greeting. And just then, Faith caught sight of the
rector's figure emerging from one of the poorer dwellings.
He was looking pale and worn, as both the sisters saw
at a glance when he joined them.
"You are overworking yourself, Mr. Brixton," said
Violet, with real concern ; " you look so tired. And now
I must insist that you come with us for a sail ; you won't
refuse me, will you ? It will do you no end of good."
The rector was weary in body and mind, and he
knew that the brief respite from active duties would
be of real benefit to him. It was a rare thing for him
to join in a pleasure-party, nevertheless on this occasion
he yielded without much pressing, sending a messenger
to the rectory to give notice that he should not return
to lunch. His ready compliance surprised as well as
pleased the whole party, for by this time the Hazelhursts
had put in an appearance, bringing with them their
youngest brother, a schoolboy of twelve years old.
Then Charles came back with the tidings that Harry
Gower's craft was highly satisfactory, and they all set
off together to the water's edge, where a very small boat
was waiting to convey them out to the tiny yacht which
danced upon the bright waves.
"What a wee boat, Charlie!" said Violet, as she
stepped in. " Why, it won't hold us all !"
" No," returned her husband ; " it will have to make
two voyages."
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 121
The pretty "yacht" (for such its owner persisted in
styling it) reminded them all of a child's toy, so gaily
was it painted and decorated. A fresh breeze was
blowing, but it was a favouring wind, and no shadow of
doubt crossed their minds as to the safety of their fairy
vessel. She cut her way through the clear green billows
like a living thing, sometimes sending a shower of
glistening spray over her merry crew ; but this only
caused fresh bursts of mirth, for the party were in high
glee. Even Mr. Brixton's gravity seemed to have passed
away, and he entered into the spirit of the hour. Faith
was perhaps the quietest of them all.
"Isn't this splendid ?" said the rector, coming to her
side. " Just look at the coast-line, Miss Faith ; we are
putting plenty of space between that and us. Doesn't
the sea air invigorate you ? "
It did after a while. On and on they sped, impelled
by that strong breeze, until the morning hours passed
into noontide, and their provisions were spread tempt-
ingly on the deck, when they partook of some refresh-
ment.
Somewhere about the middle of the afternoon the
strong wind died, and they began to think of returning.
That would be slower work, the waterman told them ;
but they were in no haste to bring the day's pleasure to
an end.
"I don't care about going back," said Ada Hazel-
hurst, gaily. Just think how dull and prosaic the land
will seem ! I'm half inclined to envy the mermaids,
aren't you, Violet ?"
"There are no such things as mermaids," exclaimed
122 FAITH HAEROWBY; OK,
Frank, her schoolboy brother ; " and if there are, their
company wouldn't suit you, Ada. How do you suppose
you would get on under the sea, with no circulating-
library, no dressmakers and milliners, and knickknacks
and fal-lals?"
The laugh at Ada's expense was checked midway by
an exclamation from Harry Gower. He called out, in
a voice, which startled his hearers by its unnatural
sound, " We're sinking fast ! she has sprung a leak !"
His words were followed by a loud cry from some of
the terrified girls, and Mr. Brixton and Charles Eedwyn
came hastily forward to examine the hold. It was too
true, the boards had parted, and the little vessel was
rapidly filling with water. Vainly they looked around
for some means of stopping the leak, but this was
already beyond their power ; and they gazed into each
other's faces with unspeakable horror.
"Oh, do save us!" cried poor Ada, clasping her
hands. " It will break their hearts at home to lose
us. Oh, poor papa and mamma ! "
" Hush !" said the rector, gently. " There's the boat,
you know."
" Yes, yes ! Oh, let us have it lowered at once. Please
don't delay, or we shall all be drowned !"
The boat was got ready, and the young ladies were
with difficulty restrained from upsetting it in their
eagerness to crowd in. Faith alone remained calm,
although her face was very pale, and Eliza stood
silently by her side.
" It won't hold us all," said Charles, hoarsely. "What's
to be done?"
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 123
" Some of us must remain here," returned the rector,
in a qiuet tone ; " and I will be one."
" No, Mr. Brixton," exclaimed Charles, " that mustn't be."
" Make haste, make haste !" pleaded the girls' voices.
" Let lis all try to get in."
"That's impossible !" resumed the rector, as he helped
Violet into the boat wherein the three Hazelhursts and
their brother were already seated.
" That little cockle-shell won't hold more than six
persons !" groaned Gower.
Violet's face became absolutely livid as she stretched
out her arms to her husband.
" Oh, Charlie, you will come !"
"One man must go to take the sculls," said the
rector, " and that must be you, Mr. Eedwyn. But " —
and he glanced around as he spoke — " the boat will
only hold six besides little Frank."
The only two women remaining on the deck were
Faith and Eliza.
"Come, Miss Faith." The rector took her hand as
he spoke ; but she held back.
" Go on, Eliza," she said, in her clear firm tones ; " I
shall stay here."
The rector's hands tightened on hers with a con-
vulsive grasp, and a wild cry burst from Violet.
" No, no, dear Miss Faith !" pleaded Eliza; "let me
stay. Go, please go, and save yourself."
But Faith laid her disengaged hand on the faithful
woman's shoulder, and pushed her forward, saying, —
" Kemember what you told me this morning, Eliza.
I have no ties ; I am quite free."
124 FAITH HARROWBY; 01!,
"Faith, this is madness!" cried Charles, trembling
with impatience.
" No, it isn't madness, dear Charlie ; I'm not afraid
to die."
Once more the rector, white and speechless now, tried
to force her into the boat, and once more she resisted him.
"Make haste!" she entreated, "yon know I never
swerve. Get in, Charlie, row as fast to land as you
can, and send some one to rescue us."
She knew that this was only a delusive hope. Their
vessel would sink before aid could reach them from the
distant shore. But it served to soothe Violet and the
other girls. Trembling and reluctant, Eliza stepped in,
and Charles followed.
"Good-bye, my darling," said Faith, bending down
and speaking to her sister with a strange bright smile.
" Good-bye. God bless you for ever and ever."
" Oh, not good-bye," moaned Violet, while her husband
laboured at the oars, and the laden boat moved slowly
away. The three who remained, watched it for some
moments in utter silence ; but at last the rector turned
almost sternly towards Faith.
" What have you done ? " he asked. " Oh, Faith, why
didn't you save yourself ? "
" And leave another to perish ? " she returned.
" Would that have been well, Mr. Brixton ? "
He did not reply, although his lips moved as if he
would fain have spoken.
Poor Harry Grower was making efforts to bale out the
water, but the sea came in too fast for that and Faith
watched the receding boat with earnest eyes.
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 125
" Thank God that Violet and Charlie are safe ! " she
murmured ; and then her glance came back to Mr.
Brixton's face, and she drew nearer to him.
" Oh, you will be so sadly missed! " she said. "Who
will go on with your work, or do what you have done ?
Mine is only a poor, useless little life ; but yours "
" I am not troubling about myself," he answered ;
" I have never counted my life dear. It is for you, my
child."
" But why grieve about me ? Violet and Charlie will
take care of papa, and comfort aunt Dorcas ; — I have
few ties."
" Oh, Faith," he whispered, " it is a strange time to
speak of earthly love when death is so near. But I
have loved you always, always "
They drew closer together, and the sea gurgled and
murmured around ; and the water surged over the deck,
circling and splashing about their feet.
" There will be no parting for us," she said, softly.
"None. And perhaps it is better as it is for us both.
We are looking forward to something brighter than this
present world, Faith ; and in our death we shall not be
divided."
Faster and faster the cruel sea made its way through
the planks. The boat could no longer be seen, and the
salt waves saturated Faith's dress. But the two who stood
clinging together on that sinking vessel were at peace.
W ^ TP W Tt" TP
One morning in early June, when the birds were
twittering and chirping around the nests that lay so
cunningly concealed amid the thick ivy, and the white
12(3 FAITH HARROWBY; OK,
roses were swayed by the softest of summer winds,
Faith awoke from a loncc dream.
She was lying in her own bed. The chintz curtains
were drawn back, and the window had been opened a
little way, so that the bird-notes and flower-scents
drifted into the room together. But the Venetian blind
was partly closed, and the familiar objects in the cham-
ber could be seen but dimly in the subdued light. Yet
Faith could distinguish her Bible, and prayer-book, and
hymnal, placed as usual on the small table, and there
were the illuminated letters of the well-known text upon
the wall. She looked languidly about her, conscious of
a curious sensation in her head which warned her in-
stinctively that she must not try to realize her own
position ; and above all, she did not dare to think over
that strange dream that was past now.
It had been indeed a strange and terrible dream.
She had stood with the rector on the deck of a sinking
vessel, feeling the chill water creep higher and higher,
and knowing that in a little while even Mr. Brixton's
strong arm would be unable to hold her head above
those pitiless waves. She remembered vaguely how he
had spoken of the land where there shall be no more
sea, and how he had prayed that One who once walked
upon the troubled waves of Galilee might be with them
in their hour of need. And then it had seemed to her
as if the ocean murmurs were drowned in the rich, deep
music of the organ, and instead of the waste of waters
the grand white arches of the ancient church encom-
passed them on every side. There were the glorious
windows, burning with purple and crimson, green and
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. 127
"old, — there were the sculDtured forms of saints and
angels, — there was the marble knight upon his chancel
tomb. And again and again rose the burst of Alle-
luia, — the Easter anthem of thanksgiving and praise.
What part of this was real, and what was unreal, she
was totally unable to decide. She felt that she had
been very ill, — that it would be quite impossible even
to raise herself from the pillows without assistance.
But she longed just to ask one or two questions, and
then to fall asleep.
Presently Eliza crept softly to the bedside, and Faith
tried to speak, but her words were so low and faint that
the faithful servant only guessed at their meaning. She
rightly divined, however, what it was that her mistress
wanted to know, and whispered in return, " It's all well,
be quiet now, and you shall know everything by and by.
But all's well."
"All's well." Faith gratefully rested her heart upon
the words. And after that came Violet, but she did not
speak, — she only laid her fair face close to her sister's
and soothed her to repose.
At last the day came when Faith was able to be pil-
lowed up in bed, and to hear the story of her great peril
and deliverance from Violet's lips. With returning
strength her memory came back to her, and she knew
that the sinking ship had been a reality. But how had
she been saved, and the rector, and Harry Gower ?
Then Violet told her, speaking with grateful tears,
that honest Sam Brock had been cruising about in his
fishing-boat, and had heard Harry Gower's desperate
shout of distress. He was but just in time to rescue
128 FAITH HARROWBY; OR, THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE.
them, for the rector was clinging to the mast with one
arm, and holding Faith with the other. Of the gladness
and thankfulness of those on shore, when their friends
were restored to them, Violet could say little, her voice
failed, and she could only lay her head oh her sister's
pillow and weep.
During Faith's illness, Colonel Harrowby had been
like one distracted. He knew that the long course of
trial and persecution which she had undergone had
enfeebled her nerves, so that when fever attacked her,
it found an easy prey. For weeks he dared not rejoice
that she had been saved from drowning, for it seemed
that she was only given back to him to be taken away
again. Poor Aunt Dorcas, herself overcome with sorrow,
did her best to soothe him, but it was to the rector that
he turned chiefly for sympathy and comfort. And long
before Faith was able to leave her sick chamber the
colonel and Mr. Brixton were made friends.
And here I would fain bring my story to an end, but
for the overweening curiosity of those who would be
ill satisfied with such a termination. For their sakes,
therefore, I will add that about six months after Faith's
complete recovery there was another marriage in Marks-
bourne church. I cannot tell you what a happy wed-
ding it was, — I have no words for that. But I know
that the beautiful old church was crowded from west to
east, and that the best of all the bridal gifts were the
prayers and blessings of the poor.
And Colonel Harrowby went to live at the rectory.
J. AND W. RIDER, PRINTERS, LONDON.
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