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OUT OF THE FOAM. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN ESTEN COOKE, 
 
 AUTHOR Or 
 
 'HILT TO HILT," " HAMMER AND RAPIER," "FAIRFAX," "SURRT OP 
 
 EAGLE'S NEST,*' ETC., ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 Carle ion. Publisher, Madisot} Square 
 
 LONDON I S. LOW, SON & CO. 
 MDCCCLXXI. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 
 
 GEOKGE W. CARLETON, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 Stereotyped at the 
 
 WOMEN'S PRINTING HOUSE, 
 
 Corner Avenue A and Eighth Street 
 
 New Tork. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAKT I. 
 
 THE ATTACK ON WESTBROOKE HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 I. The Beacon . . * . , 9 
 
 II. The Solitary Woman and her Visitor . 13 
 
 III. The Gypsy .., ->:,.. >... 19 
 
 IV. The Odor of Death . ,. . . * ._ . 26 
 
 V. The Rendezvous . , . ^ .; . 33 
 
 VL Sir Murdaugh's Midnight Visitor /. ^ J 41 
 
 VII. What Earle saw from his Hiding-place . 46 
 
 VIII. The Wolf -Hound ,.;%;-; ***-V*-~: ^ 
 
 IX. How Earle Staggered and Fell, Uttering 
 
 a Cry of Triumph . ;.. .- * . . 57 
 X. How the Sailor Earle became one of the 
 
 "Wolves" . * :w- .' , . C5 
 (v) 
 
 985799 
 
vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 XL Ellinor Maverick . . "'V^T 73 
 
 XII. " It is Time ! " . . '. * % * '* . 80 
 
 XIII. The Man in the Coach .... 84 
 
 XIV. The Night March, and its Object . . 91 
 
 XV. The Viscount Cecil 98 
 
 XVI. The Attack and Pursuit . . . .103 
 XVII. Goliath .... 112 
 
 PAET II. 
 
 THE BLOOD-HOUND. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 I. Hunted .118 
 
 IL The Baronet and the Solitary . . . 129 
 
 III. What One Woman is capable of toward 
 
 Another ' ;* . .. '-'*: * ? ' . . 142 
 
 IV. The Sailor and his Ship . -* -\ .-?'. . 149 
 V. Earle's Design . ,* : &i~:- ^.: : ;T ^ - . 154 
 
 VI. The Witness <*< .1**. <.<y* VT -V T^- ?. 158 
 
 VII. The Denunciation . : '&?. v .^ 11. 162 
 
 VIII. The Blood-Hound . ..-;-.*.-^ ^W- , . 170 
 
 IX. WhatFoUowed ^1^; . . . .177 
 
 X. The Flag with the Lilies . . . .181 
 
CONTENTS. vii 
 
 PART III. 
 
 BURIED ALIVE. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 I. Baron Delamere . . "* . . 189 
 
 II. The Mutilated Register . '.<'.' ' ' 198 
 
 III. The Revelation 'ff ;... J< *' *'' - . 203 
 
 IV. The Discovery . *l /"'. . . 207 
 V. The Blow of the Whip . . ."." , . ' . 213 
 
 VI. The Mad Dog . " . ' . . , . 219 
 
 VII. The Burial of the Wolf . *. . . 224 
 
 VHL The Chase' . .... .228 
 
 XL The Mystery of the Dead Bodies . . 233 
 
 X. The Den of the Wolf . ' ;:'. . 339 
 
 XI. Kidnapped . . . ' . * . .243 
 
 XII. Master and Man . .... 247 
 
 XIII. A Tigress . . . . ; ', . 251 
 
 XIV. The Intruder .... . '. .259 
 
 XV. The Rifled Grave . . . \ ,.- - . 269 
 
 XVI. The Attack of the Wolves .... . 277 
 
 XVII. The News from France . ; ,. V . 283 
 
 XVIII. The Crisis .- .... . 289 
 
 XIX. The Path to Wentworth Castle . . 293 
 
 XX. What the Gypsy Woman had Seen . . 299 
 
 XXL The Love of an Old Man for a Girl . , 304 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. 
 
 XXII. The Bludgeon and the Rope . . . 312 
 
 XXIII. The Maverick Vault " V* . ^ . ? . 317 
 
 XXIV. The Man from Wentworth Castle . . 323 
 XXV. The Wedding at Llangollen . . - . 326 
 
 XXVI. The Vengeance of a Blood-Hound . . 332 
 XXVII. The Wolves celebrate the Marriage of their 
 
 Chief . . 838 
 
OUT OF THE FOAM. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 THE ATTACK ON WESTBROOKE HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BEACON. 
 
 \N a stormy night of autumn, a boat, ap- 
 proaching from the open sea, drew rap- 
 idly near the coast of Pembrokeshire, the 
 most western of the shires of Wales. 
 The coast was wild, rock-bound, jutting out 
 into gigantic headlands, and lashed by the 
 restless surges of St. George's Channel, break- 
 ing with a hollow murmur on dangerous reefs. 
 At the point which the boat approached, the 
 loftiest of these headlands rose precipitously 
 from the foam ; at its foot grinned the jagged 
 teeth of rocks which had wrecked many a 
 vessel ; and in the cavernous recesses the long 
 bellow of the waves was mingled with the 
 shrill scream of the sea-fowl. 
 
 (9) 
 
10 THE BEACON. 
 
 The boat was rowed by four men, and in 
 the stern stood a fifth personage wrapped in a 
 cloak. 
 
 The stars, glittering from moment to mo- 
 ment, between the masses of black cloud, scarce 
 revealed the dusky figures; but all at once 
 there shot up from the headland, towering at 
 a dizzy height above, a pillar of flame, which 
 threw its crimson glare far out upon the waves 
 of the channel. 
 
 Every instant the fiery streamer grew more 
 brilliant. The wind began to blow big guns, 
 and the gigantic torch flickered in the gusts. 
 The boat flew on, was steered through the 
 threatening reefs by the man in the stern, 
 and finally shot straight toward the perpendic- 
 ular precipice, where it seemed impossible to 
 land. 
 
 The steersman, however, evidently knew the 
 locality. All at once, there appeared a sort 
 of indentation in the precipice, from which a 
 winding pathway was seen to ascend the cliff. 
 The boat touched land, or rather the rock ; the 
 man in the cloak leaped ashore, carrying under 
 his arm a black leather valise; and the boat, 
 without delay, returned toward the open chan- 
 nel. 
 
THE BEACON. 11 
 
 As it moved away, the man in the cloak said, 
 in the brief tone of command, 
 
 " Remember my orders, men. Return to this 
 spot every night, for ten nights, at this hour. 
 The corvette will stand for the coast of Ireland, 
 but regularly beat up again at nightfall. My 
 business may be finished in two days ; if not in 
 ten, I will be dead." 
 
 And the speaker rapidly ascended the cliff by 
 the rugged path, which, in twenty minutes, con- 
 ducted him to the plateau on which streamed 
 the beacon light. 
 
 It was a great bonfire in a fissure of rock, not 
 far from a sort of hut leaning against a mass of 
 granite. On a bench, in front of the hut, sat a 
 woman of about fifty, clad in sad-colored gar- 
 ments, and looking out thoughtfully upon the 
 channel. The face of this woman was pale and 
 emaciated ; her hair was sprinkled with gray ; 
 and from time to time she passed backward and 
 forward through her fingers the beads of a 
 Catholic devotee, attached to her girdle. Poor 
 as her dress and surroundings were, there was 
 something proud and imposing in her appear- 
 ance. In the full glare of the beacon light 
 every detail was plain. 
 
 The man drew near. At first the crackling 
 
12 THE BEACON. 
 
 of the fire and the dense smoke made the woman 
 unaware of his approach. All at once, however, 
 he stood beside her, and exclaiming " Edmond ! " 
 she rose to her feet. 
 
 " Mother ! " came in response, and a moment 
 afterwards she was locked in the man's embrace. 
 
 As he extended his arms his cloak fell, and 
 he was seen to be clad in the full uniform of a 
 captain of the French navy. 
 
 This scene took place nearly a century ago, 
 and England and France were then at war. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE SOLITARY WOMAN AND HER VISITOR. 
 
 HE young officer and the woman sat down, 
 side by side on the bench, in the full light 
 of the beacon fire. 
 
 The light revealed his face and figure 
 clearly. He was about twenty-five; of slight 
 figure, but evidently active and powerful. The 
 face was bronzed by sun and wind. In the 
 black eyes, keen and piercing, could be read 
 force of character, and a courage as cool as it 
 was reckless. 
 
 They talked long and earnestly. The sailor 
 seemed to be narrating his adventures. 
 
 " And now, mother," he at length said, "since 
 I have finished with myself, let us come to your- 
 self . You still keep up your beacon ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, my son ! " was the reply, in French, 
 
 (13) 
 
14: SOLITARY WOMAN. 
 
 the language of their conversation. " Alas ! it 
 is little to do in expiation of my sins." 
 
 "Your sins?" 
 
 " My great sins. Do not bring them to my 
 memory. That beacon, you know, warns ves- 
 sels approaching the reefs. It has saved many 
 lives." 
 
 " True, mother mine among the rest. I 
 dared not look for a pilot, and your beacon saved 
 the corvette last year." 
 
 " A whole year since your last visit ! " 
 
 She gazed at him tenderly as she uttered these 
 words. 
 
 " Could I help that, mother ? England and 
 France are enemies now, and the coast is 
 guarded. A frigate may blow my little cor- 
 vette out of the water at any moment." 
 
 " But you come " 
 
 " On secret service." 
 
 " Tell me of it." 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " That is impossible, mother." 
 
 " And yet I tell you all ! " 
 
 He looked at her with a smile, and then 
 shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " You tell me. nothing. What is it you have 
 ever told me ? Stay : what brought you hither, 
 
SOLITARY WOMAN. 15 
 
 many years since, to this solitary spot ? Why 
 did you leave beautiful France for this rock- 
 bound shore ? Why do you live the life of a 
 recluse, going to the fishing village beneath 
 only once in many months to buy scanty sup- 
 plies, with the poor little gold I brought ? " 
 
 Her head sank. 
 
 " True," she said, " I have preserved silence 
 as to all this, but only because I was compelled 
 to do so. Believe me, Edmond, I have good 
 reasons for my silence." 
 
 "And I too, my mother, for mine, namely, 
 my orders. So we will respect each other's se- 
 cret. Instead of speaking, I wish you to speak. 
 Is a certain Viscount Cecil in this neighborhood 
 now?" 
 
 " I do not know, my son." 
 
 " A certain Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke \ " 
 
 The woman turned her head suddenly. 
 
 " I believe so. But your business with him, 
 my son ? " 
 
 The sailor uttered a short laugh. 
 
 " Merely to have an interview with him, my 
 mother." 
 
 The woman shuddered. 
 
 " What is the matter, mother 2" 
 
 " Beware of this man, my son." 
 UNIVERSITY OF GALlFDttNIA LIBRARY 
 
16 SOLITARY WOMAN. 
 
 " Beware of Sir Murdangh Westbrooke ? " 
 
 " He is a terrible person, they say ; bloody and 
 cruel ; and strange stories are told of him." 
 
 "Ah! what stories?" 
 
 " Mysterious things are said to take place at 
 "Westbrooke Hall. People speak of singular 
 noises heard there, of groans ; of great hounds 
 prowling around ready to tear down intruders. 
 More still, it is said that a singular odor fills 
 the house." 
 
 " A singular odor ? " 
 
 " The smell of corpses." 
 
 And the woman crossed herself. 
 
 The young sailor repeated Ids short laugh. 
 
 " That is mysterious, and curious, and I will 
 go and see for myself. Groans hounds 
 noises the smell of corpses! That is queer, 
 and excites curiosity. But we have conversed 
 sufficiently of the excellent baronet. Besides, 
 I am in haste, my mother I must leave you. 
 First, however, here is some gold." 
 
 And he drew a heavily filled bag from his 
 yalise, and placed it in the lap of the recluse. 
 
 " Do not refuse it," he added ; " it is honestly 
 earned ; and money is a friend, mother one of 
 the best in the world, and we should not repulse 
 friends. Now I must hurry. I have some 
 
SOLITARY WOMAN. 17 
 
 distance to travel to-night, and must change my 
 costume." 
 
 "With these words the sailor raised the valise, 
 and entered the door of the hut, leaving the 
 solitary woman still seated on her bench, in the 
 light of the beacon fire. 
 
 This light streamed through the small win- 
 dow, and revealed a rush-clad floor, one hard 
 wooden chair, a low narrow bed, with a poor 
 but. neat covering, and several exquisite engrav- 
 ings of scenes in the lives of tlie saints. 
 
 In ten minutes the sailor reappeared. He 
 was scarce recognizable. His uniform had been 
 replaced by a handsome dark travelling suit of 
 English fashion ; in one hand he carried a small 
 travelling satchel, and in the other what appeared 
 to be a bundle of rods about three feet in length, 
 wrapped in shining oil-cloth. 
 
 "You behold, my mother, the gentleman 
 tourist, Mr. Delamere," he said, laughing. " Let 
 it be pardoned the captain, Edmond Earle, 
 sailor, if he adopts the name of Delamere 
 de la mer as that to which he is best entitled 
 after his own." 
 
 " And you will leave me, my son, so soon 
 after gladdening my poor old eyes with your 
 coming ? " 
 
 2 
 
18 SOLITARY WOMAN. 
 
 " I must, mother; but do not fear: I will soon 
 return." 
 
 " But the danger." 
 
 "" Danger! Well, we are old acquaintances, 
 this same danger and myself. "We have shaken 
 hands often, and I am not afraid of him." 
 
 " If they discover you " 
 
 "They will arrest and hang me as a spy? 
 Yes: but they will not probably discover me. 
 I speak English like a native ; and before they 
 hang me, the town yonder will be blown to 
 atoms by my cannon." 
 
 The recluse clasped her hands. 
 
 " Oh, my son ! do not go." 
 
 He laughed grimly. 
 
 "Be at rest, my mother: there is no danger; 
 and you will not behold that line spectacle from 
 your headland, the coast of this good Pem- 
 brokshire raked by the guns of my corvette. 
 See ! yonder is her light on the horizon. She is 
 standing out to sea. You do not see it ? I am a 
 sailor, and see far. And now, farewell, my 
 mother. I will revisit you to-morrow night, I 
 think. Embrace me." 
 
 And embracing the woman, the sailor set out 
 rapidly by a path which led down the mountain 
 side toward the interior. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE GYPSY. 
 
 MILE southward from the headland 
 which we have described, lay the fish- 
 ing village of Oldport, an assemblage of 
 huts, many of them consisting of the 
 overturned hulls of wrecked vessels, in which 
 lurked rather than lived openly a wild and law- 
 less class of men, half fishermen, half smugglers, 
 popularly known throughout the region as " The 
 Wolves." 
 
 In front of a building of somewhat greater 
 pretensions hung a rude sign depicting a cat 
 with a bell around her neck. This was the inn 
 of the Cat and Bell, and on the day after the 
 scenes just described, a rickety old road-wagon, 
 answering in place of a stage-coach, deposited 
 at the inn the disguised French officer who had 
 entered the vehicle at a town some miles distant. 
 
 (19) 
 
20 THE GYPSY. 
 
 Announcing himself as Mr. Delamere, tourist 
 and amateur trout-fisherman, he dined ; stated 
 that he expected to remain some days ; and 
 taking from the oil-cloth case a jointed fishing- 
 rod, fitted it together, and strolled through the 
 village. 
 
 From the huts of the " Wolves," curious and 
 threatening eyes were bent upon him, shining 
 under shaggy masses of hair. The wild animals 
 seemed to scent a popinjay in the well-clad 
 amateur of their own trade. 
 
 But Earle did not see the scornful glances, 
 or hear the threatening murmurs. He pro- 
 ceeded toward a body of wood, from which 
 rose in the distance a great mansion of dark- 
 colored stone ; gained the wood, through which 
 a stream ran, and rapidly following a path, 
 muttered, 
 
 " This leads to Westbrooke Hall - which is 
 my object, since the worthy Viscount Cecil is 
 not in the vicinity. I must reconnoitre. This is 
 the path, I think" 
 
 Suddenly he stopped. He had come upon a, 
 group of gypsies ; an old crone in a red cloak 
 bending over a blaze, two rougish-looking girls, 
 and a young man, black-eyed, black-haired, 
 lithe of figure, reclining at the moment between 
 
THE GYPSY. 21 
 
 the girls, and picking liis white teeth with a 
 straw. He was a handsome young vagabond, 
 and his ragged clothes did not conceal a grace- 
 ful and vigorous figure. 
 
 No sooner had Earle made his appearance, 
 than one of the girls rose and hastened to him. 
 
 " Shall I tell your fortune, handsome 
 stranger ? " she said. 
 
 Earle looked intently at the girl, shook his 
 head, and replied in a strange tongue which 
 seemed to produce an electric effect on the 
 group. The girls started, the old crone turned 
 her head, and the young man, rising to his feet, 
 exclaimed, 
 
 " How ! you speak the Rommanye Rye ! 
 You are a brother ? " 
 
 Earle replied in the same language, and the 
 young man looked at him with astonishment. 
 
 "You speak the pure unmixed Rommanye 
 Rye ! Where did you learn it, brother, and 
 who are you ? " 
 
 " I learned it in Portugal, brother," responded 
 Earle, " and am one of the tribe by adoption. 
 Who I am, beyond that, is not important." 
 
 The gypsy came up close to him. 
 
 " Yes, it is important," he whispered. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
22 THE GYPSY. 
 
 " Because, if you are really a brother of the 
 Kommanye Rye, and you needs must be, since 
 you speak our tongue, I have something on 
 hand in which you can help me, and yourself 
 too." 
 
 " What is it ? and how will it benefit me \ " 
 
 " There will be ten thousand guineas to 
 divide." 
 
 Earle looked sidewise at his companion. 
 
 " A robbery ? " he said, coolly. 
 
 The gypsy looked much shocked. 
 
 " Nothing of the sort, brother : the affair is a 
 strange one ; but no robbery." 
 
 Earle found his curiosity much excited by this 
 preamble, and said, 
 
 " Well, tell me about it. I may be able to 
 assist you." 
 
 The gypsy looked toward his companions, and 
 whispered, 
 
 " Not here or now." 
 
 " When and where, then \ " 
 
 "Do you see that spot yonder, where the 
 road skirts the dark pool, under the big rock, 
 covered with trailing vines, hanging down in 
 the water ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Meet me there at midnight to-night. I 
 
THE GYPSY. 23 
 
 swear, on the faith of the Rommanye Eye, that 
 no harm shall come to you ! " 
 
 Earle laughed. 
 
 " I am not afraid," he said, " and I know that 
 oath is sacred. I only demur to the time and 
 place. I am at Oldport, and that is miles dis- 
 tant. Midnight is the hour to sleep ; why not 
 earlier and in a less secluded spot ? " 
 
 " Because what I tell you must be told to you 
 alone ; and that spot is the place to tell it." 
 
 " Why \ " 
 
 " You will discover." 
 
 Earle looked keenly at his interlocutor. He 
 was evidently in earnest. 
 
 " You want my help ? " said Earle. 
 
 " I must have help. None of the brothers of 
 the Rommanye Rye are at hand. You are a 
 stranger, but a brother. I will trust you. 
 What do you say ? " 
 
 " I say I will be yonder, near the pool, at 
 midnight," was the reply. 
 
 And they returned to the group who had 
 been eyeing them with ill-dissembled curi- 
 osity. 
 
 "This is a brother," he said to the gypsy 
 girls. " There is no mistake about it." 
 
 The black-eyed houries showed their appreci- 
 
24 THE GYPSY. 
 
 ation of the visitor, thereupon, by coming up 
 to him, locking their arms, browned by the 
 sun, around his neck, and kissing him with 
 ardor. 
 
 The sailor laughed, and did not decline the 
 ruddy lips. He then made a confidential ges- 
 ture to the young gypsy, declined the offered 
 supper, and went on, intent, it seemed, on 
 making the circuit of the Westbrooke Park, 
 until he reached the gateway. 
 
 This he soon found, a huge arch, with 
 carved stone abutments, and, dragging open 
 the ponderous affair, he entered the grounds. 
 
 They had been splendid, but were now return- 
 ing to wilerdness. Hares ran across the road 
 in front of the pedestrian, a deer disappeared 
 in a tangled thicket, and no human being was 
 seen, to indicate that the spot was inhabited. 
 
 All at once, Earle came in sight of a great 
 building of age-embrowned stone, apparently 
 dug from the neighboring quarries, with lofty 
 gables, ivy-covered, and long rows of windows, 
 close-shut, and giving no indication that the 
 house was occupied by the living, whatever an- 
 tics the dead might cut up, at midnight, in its 
 suites of deserted chambers. The great front 
 door was as closely secured, and a huge knocker 
 
THE GYPSY. 25 
 
 in bronze scowled fiercely through cobwebs. 
 In the circle in front of the portico, whose tes- 
 selated floor was giving way, was a stone urn, 
 slowly crumbling. 
 
 Westbrooke Hall was not a cheerful spec- 
 tacle. 
 
 Earle was looking at it, leaning, as he did so, 
 against a tree, when a rough voice near him 
 said, in a threatening tone, 
 
 " Well, what is your business here ? " 
 
CHAPTEE IY. 
 
 THE ODOK OF DEATH. 
 
 'ARLE turned quickly. 
 
 Standing near him was a man of low 
 stature, but herculean limbs, with a 
 shaggy beard, bloodshot eyes, over 
 which the brows were bent in a dark scowl, 
 and holding in his hand, finger on trigger, a 
 heavy carbine. 
 
 Beside him stood two large wolf-hounds, 
 ready to spring. The man with this ferocious 
 body-guard seemed reluctant to await Earle's 
 reply before firing upon him. 
 
 The sailor exhibited little surprise and no 
 fear. 
 
 " My business here ? " he said. " Who are 
 you that ask that ? The gamekeeper ? " 
 
 " Yes who are you f I am told that sus- 
 (26) 
 
THE ODOR OF DEATH. 27 
 
 picious characters are prowling about. Your 
 name and business here, or I carry you before 
 Sir Murdaugh ! " 
 
 Earle reflected for a moment, muttering, 
 
 " That would not be so bad." 
 
 The gamekeeper cocked his gun, scowling 
 ferociously. 
 
 " Do you intend to answer me ? " 
 
 No." 
 
 " Then come along before his honor. He 
 will find out who is prowling around his 
 house." 
 
 Earle coolly nodded, and walked with the 
 man toward the mansion. Reaching the front 
 door, his companion drew from his pocket a 
 huge key, opened the ponderous door, which 
 grated on its hinges, and ushered Earle into a 
 funereal apartment, hung round with old por- 
 traits, after which he disappeared. 
 
 The furniture was ancient and mouldy ; and 
 to add to this depressing influence, Earle's at- 
 tention was speedily attracted by a peculiarly 
 acrid, offensive, and even sickening odor, which 
 he could compare to nothing but that issuing 
 from some vault or charnel-house. 
 
 In spite of his courage and buoyancy of tem- 
 perament, he shuddered. This funereal man- 
 
28 THE ODOR OF DEATH. 
 
 sion, full of shadows and mystery, affected un- 
 pleasantly even the rough sailor. The dim eyes 
 of the portraits followed him, the brows 
 scowled, the terrible odor, which he perceived 
 now, came to perfect the depressing and mel- 
 ancholy influence of the place. 
 
 " Really, I have blundered into a vault," he 
 muttered. " Some corpse is going to glide in 
 at that door there, and clutch me by the 
 hair!" 
 
 Suddenly a harsh and metallic voice, almost 
 beside him said, 
 
 " Your business here ? How did yon gain 
 entrance ? " 
 
 Earle turned and saw before him a strange 
 figure. In the new-comer's appearance there 
 was something at once grotesque ' and terrible. 
 He was a man of about sixty ; of great height : 
 gaunt, bony, with glittering eyes, deeply sunken 
 under heavy brows, and a nose resembling the 
 beak of a hawk. From the corners of a large 
 and sensual mouth, protruded two tusks, rather 
 than teeth. The result of this, was a perma- 
 nent and ghastly sneer, which put the finishing 
 touch to a physiognomy which excited at once 
 fear and disgust the sentiment of the ridicu- 
 lous and the terrible. 
 
THE ODOR OF DEATH. 29 
 
 He was clad in an old faded dressing-gown, 
 the sleeves of whicn were rolled up, and had 
 evidently not expected a visitor. 
 
 " Your business here ? " he repeated, in his 
 cold, forbidding voice, the muddy gray eyes 
 rolling in their cavernous sockets. 
 
 Earle gazed at him coolly, and replied, 
 
 " Your gamekeeper conducted me hither. I 
 say your gamekeeper, as I presume you are Sir 
 Murdaugh Westbrooke." 
 
 " I am." 
 
 As he spoke, the shaggy-headed Hercules 
 entered. His master turned to him with a 
 scowl. 
 
 " I ordered no one to be admitted here with- 
 out my knowledge why have you disobeyed 
 me ? " he said. 
 
 " It was long ago I was wrong Sir Mur- 
 daugh," stammered the man. 
 
 " In future obey me," grated the metallic 
 voice ; " who is this gentleman ? " 
 
 The word seemed forced reluctantly from 
 him. 
 
 " I am a tourist," said Earle, " travelling on 
 my own affairs. I came to look at Westbrooke 
 Park, and have been gratified with a view, also, 
 of the interior of your residence, sir, in the 
 
30 THE ODOR OF DEATH. 
 
 character of a vagrant brought up before jour 
 honor." 
 
 And Earle looked around him coolly. A 
 door led from the apartment toward the ser- 
 vants quarters' through folding doors, leading 
 to a second receiving room, a window was seen 
 open in rear, and through this window, the 
 foliage of the park. 
 
 " Good ! " muttered the sailor ; " that is all I 
 wanted to know." 
 
 He rose and bowed. 
 
 "If I am not to be committed as a vagabond, 
 1 will now take my leave, sir," he said. 
 
 Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, bowed stiffly. 
 
 " Before I take my departure, however, may 
 I ask one question, sir \ " said the sailor. 
 
 "Ask it," 
 
 " It may appear intrusive." 
 . " Ask it ! " grated the voice. 
 
 "Since you so politely permit me, I will 
 venture to ask," said the sailor, coolly, " what 
 the very peculiar odor I perceive here is due to, 
 Sir Murdaugh." 
 
 The baronet drew back and seemed to freeze. 
 Only his eyes burned in their bloodshot 
 recesses. 
 
 " Your question is offensive ! " he growled. 
 
THE ODOR OF DEATH. 31 
 
 " Then it resembles the smell I perceive." 
 
 And Earl snuffed up the air with manifest 
 disgust. 
 
 " I compliment you upon the power of your 
 imagination ! " sneered the baronet. 
 
 " My nose is the organ affected, and I should 
 say that you have a corpse for a visitor at 
 present, sir," said Earle. " But I grow really 
 intrusive now, and will take my leave. Good- 
 evening. Thanks for the hospitalities of West- 
 brooke Hall. We shall probably meet again." 
 
 And he bowed and left the apartment. As 
 he did so the baronet called, 
 
 "Wilde!" 
 
 The shaggy gamekeeper was at the door, and 
 quickly made his appearance. 
 
 " Follow that man and find out where he 
 goes, and who he is I do not like him. 
 There is something in his face and voice that 
 warns me to beware of him. Who is he? 
 You do not know ? Why do you not know ? 
 What do I employ you for? Go, I say, 
 and track him, and bring me word all about 
 him ! " 
 
 The man, sullen but cowed, went out, and the 
 baronet looked toward the door through which 
 Earle had disappeared. 
 
32 THE ODOR OF DEATH. 
 
 " If that man comes here again with his 
 talk about odors and corpses," he muttered in 
 his harsh voice, while the yellow tusks pro- 
 truded threateningly, " I will make a corpse of 
 him!" 
 
CHAPTER Y. 
 
 THE RENDEZVOUS. 
 
 T was nearly midnight: the moon had 
 risen about half an hour before, and its 
 pallid light revealed every feature of the 
 lonely and lugubrious locality fixed upon 
 by the gypsy for his rendezvous with Earle. 
 . Nothing more gloomy and forbidding than 
 the spot in question could be imagined. 
 
 The road, or rather bridle-path, indicated by 
 the gypsy, ran along the steep banks of the 
 stream we have spoken of, and near a dark and 
 sullen -looking pool above which rose a huge 
 rock, festooned with spectral-looking vines, and 
 covered nearly with dense foliage. The stream, 
 merrily brawling on elsewhere, here 'dragged 
 its black and sombre current slowly along, 
 and deposited its froth and scum. Above 
 3 (33) 
 
34 THE RENDEZVOUS. 
 
 the pool a dead bough, gnarled and abrupt, 
 resembled the gaunt arm of some fiend 
 stretched out beneath, 011 the sullen water, 
 the shadows assumed ghostly and threatening 
 outlines. 
 
 It was a spot to commit a murder, not to 
 hold a midnight interview in, save with the 
 hand upon some weapon. The very hooting of 
 a great- horned owl, buried in the leaves, sounded 
 unearthly. The spot seemed given up to gloom 
 and the recollection, by the very inanimate 
 objects, of some terrible tragedy. 
 
 Precisely at midnight, a figure wrapped in a 
 cloak approached the great gnarled tree near the 
 rock hanging over the pool, and the moonlight 
 clearly revealed the form of Earle. 
 
 " "Well, I am here," he muttered ; " where, I 
 wonder, is my friend of the black eyes?" 
 
 "Here!" came from the shadow of the 
 rock. 
 
 And the gypsy advanced into the moonlight. 
 
 Earle advanced in his turn. Under his cloak 
 his hand grasped the hilt of his poniard. 
 
 They faced each other directly opposite the 
 pool ; and the dark eyes of the gypsy, full of 
 wary cunning, were fixed upon the calm face of 
 Earle. 
 
THE RENDEZVOUS. 35 
 
 "I see you are a brave man, brother," he 
 said. 
 
 " How have I proved that ? " said Earle. 
 
 " By coming here at an hour like this, 
 alone." 
 
 " That is no proof of my courage. You are 
 but one man I am another." 
 
 The gypsy laughed. 
 
 " And a cool one. Others might have refused 
 this meeting. This spot has a black reputation 
 in the neighborhood." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "A man was tied to that tree, and lashed 
 nearly to death." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " And six feet from it, another was murdered, 
 and his body dragged to the pool yonder, where 
 it was thrown in, with weights to hold it 
 down." 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 " I saw it." 
 
 " You saw the murder ? " 
 
 The gypsy nodded. 
 
 " Why did you not denounce the murderer ? 
 But doubtless you did so." 
 
 The gypsy shook his head. 
 
 " I was too intelligent for that." 
 
36 THE RENDEZVOUS. 
 
 "Too intelligent?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Explain.' 
 
 The gypsy laughed again. It was a low, sub- 
 tle sound, like the hiss of a serpent. 
 
 "Why should I have informed on the mur- 
 derer?" he said. "No: I was too intelligent for 
 that ! A man is murdered ; his body concealed 
 in that black-looking pool ; no one knows of the 
 murder save the man or men who committed 
 it, and a wandering vagabond of a gypsy who 
 chanced to be in the copse yonder, and wit- 
 nessed all, and you ask now why the vaga- 
 bond did not go to a magistrate and tell all; 
 why he did not say, ( I saw another commit 
 this murder.' No I am acquainted with these 
 good English justices of the peace. They 
 demand a murderer where murder has been 
 done what more natural than the arrest of the 
 vagabond ? " 
 
 Earle nodded. 
 
 "You are right. And you held your 
 tongue ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Knowing all?" 
 
 "Yes."- 
 
 " Tell me what happened. There is nothing 
 
THE RENDEZVOUS. 37 
 
 like understanding all the particulars of a given 
 event." 
 
 " The story is short. I will conceal nothing 
 for you are a brother of the Rommanye Rye, 
 and the oath of the brotherhood seals the lips 
 ' you know that." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "What happened was this : There was a man 
 who had an enemy. That enemy met the man 
 one day at this spot, seized him with the aid of 
 a servant, bound him to that tree there, and 
 lashed him as men lash a hound. I do not 
 know why enough that he lashed him till 
 his flesh was bloody. Then the two went 
 away and left him tied ; when some passer-by 
 found him he was nearly dead." 
 
 " That is a strange story," said Earle ; " and 
 this led to the murder ? " 
 
 "Yes. The man who had been lashed got 
 well, and waited. One day he was riding 
 along this road just at dark with a mounted 
 attendant. He met his enemy the one who 
 had treated him as I have described. I was 
 yonder in that thicket, as I told you. The 
 enemies met face to face, and he who had been 
 lashed -smiled sweetly, held out his hand, and 
 said, ( I forgive you ; my punishment was 
 
38 THE RENDEZVOUS. 
 
 just.' At these words, the other held out his 
 hand in turn. A minute afterwards he fell 
 from his horse with a deep groan the man 
 whom he had : lashed had stabbed him to the 
 heart." 
 
 " Good ! " said Earle ; " there is a regular 
 murder." 
 
 " Yes. The man did not die at once, so his 
 enemy and the attendant dismounted and beat 
 out his brains. They then fastened rocks, with 
 their stirrup leathers, to the feet of the corpse , 
 and dragged it to the pool yonder, where they 
 threw it in, and it sunk to the bottom." 
 
 Earle listened with attention. 
 
 " And you saw all this \ " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And did not inform on the murderer ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then the murder remained unsuspected ? " 
 
 " On the contrary, it was discovered at once." 
 
 " How was that ? you interest me." 
 
 " The murdered man had been followed by 
 a very fine blood-hound, a pet dog with him. 
 "When he was stabbed, the dog leaped at the 
 throat of the murderer." 
 
 "Brave dog! and they did not kill him 
 too ? " 
 
THE RENDEZVOUS. 39 
 
 " No : he escaped, and led the way afterwards 
 to the spot where his master had been mur- 
 dered. The marks of a struggle were found 
 the blood-stains on the grass over which the 
 body had been dragged, and at last the body 
 itself, in the pool where it had been sunk/' 
 
 Earle reflected for some moments and then 
 said, 
 
 " That is a singular history you relate, 
 brother, and yet your voice tells me that it 
 is true. Now, what is your object ? To bring 
 the murderer to justice ? " 
 
 The gypsy smiled. 
 
 " I should like to do so if I could, brother ; 
 but I cannot, being a vagabond; and then, I 
 cannot afford it." 
 
 "Afford it?" 
 
 " The secret is worth much money. Listen : 
 I go that is, you and I go to the man who 
 committed that murder and say, " Your life is 
 in my hand ; you killed a man ; pay me ten 
 thousand guineas as the price of my secresy ?" 
 That is plain, is it not '? " 
 
 Earle nodded coolly. 
 
 " Then we will divide the sum he pays us," 
 said the gypsy. 
 
40 THE RENDEZVOUS. 
 
 " That would be liberal," returned Eaiie. 
 
 "You consent?" 
 
 " That depends. We have used no names ; let 
 us come to that. Who was the murdered man ?" 
 
 " Giles Maverick, a prominent gentleman of 
 Pembrokeshire." 
 
 " The murderer \ " 
 
 " Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke." 
 
CHAPTEK VI. 
 
 SIR MUKDAUGH S MIDNIGHT VISITOE. 
 
 had scarcely uttered the words, when a 
 low growl in the copse near them was 
 suddenly heard ; and an instant after- 
 wards the gypsy sprung in the direction 
 of the sound, which resembled the noise of 
 rapidly retreating footsteps. 
 
 The gypsy followed with long leaps, like a 
 wild-cat in pursuit of his prey ; but in spite of 
 all, the sounds became more and more indistinct, 
 and suddenly ceased. The concealed personage 
 had escaped. 
 
 Earle" had remained motionless, leaning 
 against the gnarled tree. 
 
 In ten minutes the gypsy returned to the spot, 
 breathing heavily from his exertion. 
 
 " We have been tracked," he said, hastily. 
 
 (41) 
 
4:2 THE MIDNIGHT VISIl^OR. 
 
 Earle nodded. 
 
 " I thought so," he said. 
 
 " You thought so \ " 
 
 " Yes ; that is to say, I feared as much." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " I was at Westbrooke Hall late this evening, 
 and had a conversation with Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke. As I went out, I heard him summon a 
 confidential servant, or gamekeeper, whose name 
 is Wilde. The man followed me, hung around 
 the tavern at the village for an hour, disappeared, 
 I thought : but now I find that he is a better 
 
 o / 
 
 hand at woodcraft than I am, a mere sailor. 
 He has tracked me, and overheard all." 
 
 The gypsy knit his brow. 
 
 " You take it coolly, brother." 
 
 u There is no reason why I should take it 
 otherwise." 
 
 " He will inform Sir Murdaugh." 
 
 " Of what ? " 
 
 " Of all he has heard." 
 
 " He has heard nothing." 
 
 " Nothing ! " 
 
 "We have been talking in the Eommanye 
 Eye," said Earle. 
 
 The gypsy looked at him with admiration. 
 
 " That is true, brother," he said ; " and yon 
 
THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR. 43 
 
 have, a long head on your shoulders. Now what 
 is to be done ? " 
 
 Earle reflected for an instant. 
 
 " The affair looks unpromising," he said ; 
 " but something may, perhaps, take place which 
 will guide you in your business. The night is 
 clear, we have some hours before us : r why not 
 pay a visit to the park of Westbrooke Hall, and 
 try to discover, for one thing, whether I am mis- 
 taken in thinking that the man Wilde has 
 
 O 
 
 tracked me ? If I am right, he will return to 
 make his report. Through a window chink we 
 may overhear something ; from a tree, which a 
 good sailor like myself can easily climb, we 
 may see something. Who knows \ Let us try, 
 at least." 
 
 And, followed by the gypsy, who evidently 
 regarded him with admiration, Earle set out 
 rapidly in the direction of Westbrooke Hall. In 
 half an hour, they were near the boundaries of 
 the park, which was encircled by a high wall. 
 
 As they drew nearer, they all at once discov- 
 ered a light vehicle, to which a single horse 
 was attached, standing in the shadow of the 
 wall, at a point where the stones had partially 
 fallen, and left a gap. 
 
 Through this gap two men were seen lifting 
 
4A THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR. 
 
 a third wrapped in a cloak, and apparently in 
 the last stages of intoxication. 
 
 " Stand up, my hearty ! " said one of the 
 men, with a low laugh ; " this way you have of 
 going and getting yourself as drunk as a beast 
 is not according to good morals, old fellow! 
 There ! use your legs and come on. Sir Mur- 
 daugh is waiting for you." 
 
 " Be quiet, and hush your gab, mate," said 
 the other ; " who knows who may be prowling 
 about?" 
 
 "After midnight?" 
 
 " Yes. There are the gypsy people." 
 
 "Well, they do hate Sir Murdaugh." 
 
 " There, again. I have often warned you 
 about calling names; stop it! Bear a hand 
 there." 
 
 " You are right, mate. Come on, aged ine- 
 briate ! " 
 
 And the two men half dragged, half carried 
 the third along a path through the shrubbery, 
 toward the hall. 
 
 Earle and the gypsy followed, walking noise- 
 lessly and keeping in the shadow. 
 
 As they approached the hall, a low growl from 
 a kennel, where a hound seemed to be chained, 
 greeted them, and a moment afterwards the 
 
THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR. 45 
 
 door of the hall opened slightly, and revealed 
 the figure of Sir Murdangh Westbrooke, clad in 
 his long dressing-gown, and holding a light in 
 his hand. 
 
 Earle and the gypsy had reached the thicket 
 near which the former had encountered the 
 gamekeeper. In this they ensconsed them- 
 selves, and could see everything. 
 
 Sir Hurdaugh shot a keen glance in the direc- 
 tion of the three figures. 
 
 " Make haste ! " he said, impatiently. 
 
 " Come on, old gentleman! " muttered one of 
 the men to the one between them. 
 
 The figure staggered, and would have fallen 
 had not the two men held it up by main force. 
 As it staggered, the hat fell off, the cloak 
 dropped to the ground ; and the light revealed 
 all. 
 
 The figure was clad in a shroud, and the jaw 
 had fallen. 
 
 It was a corpse. 
 
CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 WHAT EAKLE SAW FROM HIS HIDING-PLACE. 
 
 laid his hand upon the arm of 
 ' his companion. On the firm lips of the 
 young sailor the moonlight revealed a 
 sarcastic smile. 
 
 ""Look!" he whispered; "there is the sort of 
 goods in which our friend deals." 
 
 " Yes," said the gypsy, whose dark eyes were 
 fixed upon the face of the corpse. " Is it 
 another murder?" 
 "No." 
 "What?" 
 
 " I will tell you when there is less danger 
 of being overheard." 
 
 In fact, the two men carrying tne corpse 
 had paused to listen. Something seemed to 
 excite their suspicion. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " came in low, harsh 
 (46) 
 
WHAT EARLE SAW. 47 
 
 tones from the lips of Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke. 
 
 "I thought I heard a noise, sir," said one 
 of the men. 
 
 "A noise?" 
 
 "In the thicket there." And releasing the 
 arm of the corpse, the speaker took two steps 
 toward the spot where Earle and the gypsy 
 were concealed. 
 
 Earle laid his hand upon his poniard. The 
 hand of the gypsy in like manner stole be- 
 neath his ragged jacket and grasped some- 
 thing a knife, probably. There was no pos- 
 sibility of retreating. It was necessary, they 
 felt, to await the attack and defend them- 
 selves. 
 
 But the danger quickly passed. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " came in same low, harsh tones 
 from the baronet ; " all fancy ! There is no 
 one there. It is one in the morning. Bring in 
 that ! " 
 
 And with his long, lean linger he pointed 
 to the corpse. 
 
 The man returned, muttering something, 
 and again assisted his companion in dragging 
 for they rather dragged than carried the 
 body into the mansion. The lugubrious group 
 
48 WHAT EARLE SAW. 
 
 with their funereal burden passed through the 
 great doorway it closed save the glimmer 
 through one of the windows, there was now 
 no sign of life throughout the establishment. 
 
 " Well,'- said Earle, " we have stumbled upon 
 something like an adventure. We did well in 
 coming to visit the park. There is nothing 
 like knowing the private affairs of a man you 
 are to have dealings with ! " 
 
 " Hist ! " returned the gypsy suddenly. I 
 heard a noise ! " 
 
 "A noise? Where?" 
 
 " In the wood yonder, behind the house." 
 
 Both listened. All at once footsteps became 
 audible the firm tread of a man, walking on 
 the thick turf, which gave forth a muffled and 
 dull response. 
 
 " He has arrived ! " whispered Earle. 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 "The man who tracked me and overheard 
 what was said yonder Wilde ? " 
 
 " He will discover us ! " 
 
 " It is probable, as he has one of the hounds 
 with him." 
 
 "Where is the dog?" 
 
 As he spoke, Wilde appeared in the moon- 
 light, emerging from the shadow of the wood. 
 
WHAT EARLE SAW. 49 
 
 Beside him ran the great wolf-hound, nosing 
 and uttering suppressed growls. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " the man was heard 
 to say in a low voice ; " there is no one here, 
 Wolf" 
 
 The' dog continued his quest, uneasy, evi- 
 dently, and more suspicious than his master. 
 
 "Come here," said Wilde; "you are losing 
 your time. The first thing is to see Sir Mur- 
 daugh. Then we will come out and go the 
 rounds, Wolf." 
 
 With these words he called the dog to him, 
 and they disappeared behind the mansion. 
 
 " Now is the time to get off," whispered the 
 
 gypsy. 
 
 " No : now is the time to discover more," 
 returned Earle, coolly. "Go deeper into the 
 thicket ; no dog can find you there, if you lie 
 down and keep quiet. I am going to the main- 
 top to look out." 
 
 And with a short laugh, which revealed his 
 white teeth, the young sailor emerged from 
 covert, crossed the moonlit expanse in front 
 of the house, and, climbing with the agility of 
 a cat, an enormous oak whose foliage brushed 
 the walls of the house, concealed himself 
 among the leaves. 
 4 
 
50 WHAT EARLE SAW. 
 
 From the lofty perch which he had thus 
 reached, and where he sustained himself by a 
 firm grasp upon one of the lesser boughs, the 
 young man could see into the establishment, 
 one of whose window-shutters was open. 
 
 The apartment into which he looked was not 
 that which had witnessed the interview between 
 himself and Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke. It was 
 a much smaller room on the left, plainly fur- 
 nished. In the centre was a great arm-chair. 
 Seated bolt upright in this chair, with grinning 
 teeth, was t the corpse. 
 
 Sir Murdaugh was standing erect, candle in 
 hand. In his long dressing-gown, dark and 
 draping his person from head to foot, he re- 
 sembled a Roman augur, about to perform 
 some mysterious rite. His face was pallid, and 
 as he gazed at the body, the grin habitual 
 with him distorted his features, revealing 
 clearly the sharp tusks at the corners of his 
 mouth. His "sombre glance seemed to gloat 
 on the lugubrious object. Earle shuddered 
 almost. The effect produced by the expres- 
 sion of the pale face was that .of the presence 
 of one of the deadly cobras which the sailor 
 had seen in the tropics a mixture of fear 
 and loathing. 
 
WHAT EARLE SAW. 51 
 
 The two men had retreated, hat in hand, to 
 the door, and waited. 
 
 As Earle, from his hiding-place in the oak, 
 took in the details of this singular tableau, tire 
 door opened and Wilde entered, followed by his 
 wolfrhound. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE WOLF-HOUND. 
 
 'HE baronet and the shaggy Hercules 
 exchanged rapid glances. 
 
 Wilde made a slight movement of 
 the head in the direction of the two 
 men, and, as though comprehending at 
 once the meaning of this sign, Sir Murdaugh 
 Westbrooke pointed to the door, said something 
 to the men, and they disappeared. 
 
 Wilde then rapidly approached 'his master. 
 His face was dark and scowling. He spoke 
 rapidly, with animated gestures, pointing, as he 
 did so, in the direction of the pool near the 
 boundary of the park. 
 
 As he spoke, Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke's 
 face grew as black as night. His bushy brows 
 were knit over his snake-like eyes, and he lis- 
 tened with unconcealed emotion. 
 
THE WOLF-HOUND. 53 
 
 The sailor, in his oak, uttered a low laugh. 
 
 " The worthy pair are discussing things," he 
 said. "The man is telling his master of the 
 mysterious interview between the mysterious 
 stranger and the gypsy, at the pool. What will 
 result ? Let us look on, since it is impossible to 
 listen." 
 
 The interview continued for about half an 
 hour. Then the baronet was seen to point 
 through the window toward the front of the 
 house. 
 
 The sailor saw that gesture, and his marvel- 
 lous acumen told him that Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke was informing Wilde of the supposed 
 noise heard by the men when bringing in the 
 dead body. 
 
 The Hercules turned quickly toward the 
 door. As he did so, he made a sign to the 
 wolf-hound, and the animal, as though under- 
 standing perfectly, disappeared at a bound. 
 
 A -moment afterwards, Earle's attention was 
 attracted by a low and continuous growling 
 beneath the oak. He looked down and saw 
 the dog coursing to and fro, and nosing the 
 earth. 
 
 By a strange instinct, the wolf-hound paid no 
 attention to the traces left by the men and their 
 
54: THE WOLF-HOUND. 
 
 burden. Something seemed to draw him irre- 
 sistibly toward the oak, in which Earle was con- 
 cealed. Every circuit which he made brought 
 him nearer ; at last he reached the tree. His 
 nose rested for a moment upon the trunk, and 
 he snuffed at it in silence. Then his head rose, 
 his dark eye glittered in the moonlight. He 
 caught sight of Earle, half-lost in the foliage, 
 and uttered a long, continuous, and furious 
 bay. 
 
 As the deep and prolonged alarm issued 
 from the hound's lips, Earle felt that he was 
 lost. There was no possibility of remaining 
 undiscovered: the hound had descried him; 
 the hoarse bay could not be mistaken. It was 
 the sound uttered by animals who have dis- 
 covered their prey, and are furious to leap 
 upon it, and tear it limb from limb. Earle felt 
 that "VVilde and the baronet would understand 
 all in a moment, and throwing a rapid glance 
 through the window, he saw that his fears Avere 
 well founded 
 
 No sooner had the hoarse cry of the hound 
 reached his ear, than the man Wilde started 
 and turned toward the door. 
 
 Sir Murdaugh, who had gone toward the body, 
 turned as quickly. 
 
THE WOLF-HOUND. 55 
 
 Wilde pointed in the direction of the sound, 
 uttered some hasty words, and, drawing a hunt- 
 ing knife from his girdle, rushed from the 
 room. 
 
 Earle saw that all was lost, unless he acted 
 with decision. He did not hesitate. The in- 
 mates of Westbrooke Hall were persons, evi- 
 dently, who did not fear bloodshed, and were 
 apt to act without ceremony. His life would in 
 all probability pay the forfeit of his daring in- 
 vasion of the precincts, and without a moment's 
 hesitation Earle slid down the tree, passed from 
 bough to bough, let his body fall from the low- 
 est limb, and sprung upon the hound, who in 
 turn darted at his enemy's throat. 
 
 Earle felt the hot breath of the animal on 
 his face, and the sharp teeth touched his throat. 
 
 The struggle was desperate, but did not con- 
 tinue long. Before the teeth of the hound - 
 could close upqn the throat of Earle, he drew 
 his poniard, plunged it into the animal's body 
 behind the shoulder, and hurling the dog from 
 him, rushed into the thicket just as Wilde 
 reached the spot, attracted by the last cry of the 
 dying wolf-hound. 
 
 The Hercules uttered a growl so savage that it 
 resembled that of a tiger. Drawing his knife, 
 
56 % THE WOLF-HOUND. 
 
 lie hastened in the direction of a rustling which 
 he heard in the thicket. Head down, like a 
 mad bull, he burst through every obstacle, 
 breathing heavily, uttering curses, his eyes glar- 
 ing with rage. 
 
 But the noise receded ceased. Coming to 
 an open space, he saw through a vista two shad- 
 ows clear the park wall and vanish. 
 
 Earle and the gypsy had effected their escape, 
 and were lost in the great Westbrooke woods. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HOW EARLE STAGGERED AND FELL, TITTERING A 
 
 CRY OF TRIUMPH. 
 
 full of brilliant sunshine 
 succeeded the night in which the events 
 which we have just described took place. 
 It was one of those days of autumn 
 which seem to make of the dull earth a faiiy 
 realm, all splendor, glory, and delight ; when the 
 forests blaze in orange," purple, crimson, and all 
 colors of the rainbow ; when the blue sky bears 
 upon its bosom argosies of white-sailed clouds ; 
 and the sigh of the pines, the ^laughter of the 
 breeze, the long and musical murmur of the 
 waves, make up a symphony sweeter than ever 
 Mozart, Verdi, or Hossini dreamed. 
 
 From the fishing village of Oldport, St. 
 George's Channel was seen to roll its azure 
 
 (57) 
 
58 THE CRY OF TRIUMPH. 
 
 waves in the fresli breeze ; and these blue bil- 
 lows as they readied the rocks in the small har- 
 bor, and at the foot of the gigantic headland, 
 broke into snowy spray, which glittered in the 
 sunshine. 
 
 Dotting the restless surface, covered with 
 spangles, and growing more and more restless 
 and brilliant as the breeze freshened, were a 
 number of fishing-boats, with small triangular 
 sails, which the wind filled, driving the barks 
 rapidly before it. 
 
 As the morning drew on, the breeze fresh- 
 ened still more and more, and began to blow 
 a gale ; the fishing-boats were seen hastening 
 landward ; then as they approached they were 
 tossed dangerously aloft; as they reached the 
 shore, and were dragged up and rescued, 
 the roughest water-dogs of the coast were 
 evidently well pleased to be ashore, and not 
 exposed in their small skiffs to the gathering 
 tempest. , 
 
 One sail-boat alone was visible now, beating 
 up toward the headland. 
 
 This craft, even at a distance, was seen not 
 to be a fishing-smack, but a pleasure-boat, gayly 
 painted, and with ladies on board ; for, as the 
 boat veered and danced on the waves, her 
 
THE CRT OF TRIUMPH. 59 
 
 bright sides and the floating scarfs of women 
 were plainly visible. 
 
 The wind grew stronger every moment, and 
 in a group upon the strand, the rough " wolves," 
 as the fishermen were called, watched the boat, 
 which careened dangerously as it flew onward, 
 making straight for shore. 
 
 " That much sail is enough to sink her," said 
 a huge "wolf" in a ragged pea-jacket, and with 
 hair growing down nearly to his eyes. 
 
 " The rudder is gone," said a calm voice be- 
 hind the speaker. 
 
 The " wolf " turned round with a scowl. His 
 eyes fell upon the neatly-dressed figure of Mr. 
 Delamere, amateur fisherman. 
 
 " What are you a-saying there ? " he growled, 
 contemptuously. 
 
 " I say," said Delamere, otherwise our friend 
 the sailor, Earle, " that the rudder is gone, and 
 the man in that boat is a sailor, who is steering 
 her ashore with his brains, as he has nothing 
 else." 
 
 A low growl came from the " wolf." 
 
 " Look here, my hoppadandy," he said, turn- 
 ing to Earle and clenching his fist ; " who are 
 you that come here to larn old sailors their 
 business ? " 
 
60 THE CRY OF TRIUMPH. 
 
 He advanced threateningly upon the young 
 man as he spoke. Earle did not move, 
 
 " Who are you f " shouted the " wolf," raising 
 his arm to strike at him. "I'll smash your 
 headpiece if " 
 
 The sentence was not concluded. 
 * Earle planted his left foot three feet in ad- 
 vance of him, followed rapidly with his right, 
 and as the ball of the foot touched the earth 
 his right fist darted out, backed by the whole 
 weight of his body thrown with it, and struck 
 the giant exactly where the low shag of hair 
 terminated nearly between his eyes. 
 
 The "wolf" fell as though a battering-ram 
 had struck him. 
 
 But, rising, stunned and dizzy, he rushed at 
 his opponent. 
 
 In a minute he was down again. The rough 
 crowd, whose sympathies had all been with their 
 own representative, uttered a shout of admira- 
 tion at the amateur's science. It was plain in- 
 deed that the slight stranger was a perfect mas- 
 ter of the art of boxing, and his adversary, in 
 spite of his size, was hesitating whether he 
 should renew the attack or expend his remain- 
 ing energies in violent curses, when a cry 
 attracted the attention of every one a cry so 
 
THE CRY OF TRIUMPH. 61 
 
 shrill and piteous that it thrilled through the 
 roughest person present, 
 
 Earle glanced quickly in the direction of the 
 cry, that is, toward the sea. That glance told 
 him all. The sail-boat had run before the wind 
 with the rapidity of a dry leaf borne onward by 
 the breeze had nearly reached the land; but 
 at two hundred yards from shore had struck the 
 reef, capsized, and a man and two women were 
 seen clinging to the frail mast and the ropes, 
 which rose and fell and beat upon the threaten- 
 ing surge. 
 
 The cry had issued from the women, and the 
 crowd was instantly in commotion. 
 
 A boat was launched, and two of the "wolves" 
 sprung into it. At fifty yards from the shore 
 it capsized, and the men only reached land 
 again by vigorous swimming. 
 
 A second attempt was made. In this case the 
 boat swamped at twenty yards from shore. 
 
 A glance toward the overturned sail-boat 
 showed that the strength of the young ladies 
 for such they were now seen to be was rapidly 
 deserting them. The waves beat them cruelly 
 in the face, and tore at them. The wind roared 
 at them, nearly wrenching the frail hands from 
 the mast. The man, clinging to the gunwale, 
 
62 THE CRY OF TRIUMPH. 
 
 could afford them no assistance. In ten minutes, 
 it was plain, they would desert their hold, and 
 the surf would engulf them. 
 
 Suddenly, the crowd, who had been nearly 
 paralyzed, was seen to divide. 
 
 In the open space, Earle was seen, without hat, 
 coat, boots, waistcoat, or cravat, a sailor in shirt 
 and pantaloons, with a hatchet in his belt and 
 a rope the thickness of a man's linger tied 
 around his waist. 
 
 " Stand back ! " his clear voice rang out. 
 
 And throwing himself into the boiling mass, 
 he struck out vigorously for the wrecked boat. 
 
 As he rose and fell like a cork upon the 
 waves, the crowd shouted, following him with 
 eyes of admiration. Every instant they ex- 
 pected to see him disappear, and held their 
 breath as he sank in the hollows. As he rose 
 again, swimming like a giant, the roar of 
 voices sounded above the storm. 
 
 It is a splended spectacle to see man contend- 
 ing with the forces of nature. The sailor was 
 defying the sea lashed to fury. The waves 
 struck him with their huge hands, buffeting and 
 howling at him and he went on. The spray 
 cut his face and filled his eyes, blinding him 
 and he went on. Hurled into the hollows of 
 
THE CRY OF TRIUMPH. 63 
 
 the billows, lie rose like a leaf, cutting tlie 
 foam. The crowd hurrahed, and held their 
 breath, and ran into the sea, grasping the rope 
 affixed to the sailor's waist. 
 
 Suddenly a shout, which seemed to drown the 
 thunder of the wind, rose. 
 
 Earle had reached the boat and affixed the 
 rope to a ring in the ornamental headpiece. 
 Then he tore the rigging from the mast, bound 
 the young ladies by the body to the slight rail- 
 around the deck ; cut away the mast ; and, ris- 
 ing up in the water, waved his arm toward the 
 shore. 
 
 At that signal the crowd shouted, and began 
 to pull. The disabled craft obeyed the rope. 
 Rolling, tossing, rising, falling, groaning, creak- 
 ing in all its timbers, it approached the shore. 
 
 But the danger was coming. Within twenty 
 yards of land an enormous wave rushed at the 
 prey about to escape, and with one blow broke 
 the frail craft into a dozen pieces. 
 
 The young ladies disappeared, and a great 
 wave rolled over them. 
 
 Then they reappeared as suddenly. With 
 his hatchet Earle cut the ropes which secured 
 them to the pieces of wreck ; the man of the 
 boat seized one, and Earle seized the other; 
 
64 THE CRY OF TRIUMPH. 
 
 five minutes afterwards, the fishermen had res- 
 cued the former ; and then Earle appeared, 
 staggering, panting, struggling to reach dry 
 ground, the inanimate form of a girl clasped in 
 his arms. 
 
 The fishermen hastened tbward him. A 
 great wave hurled itself the last defiance of 
 the sea in their faces, and forced them back. 
 But that wave drove Earle onward. 
 
 As it receded, he was on firm earth. 
 
 With his left arm around the girl, he raised 
 his right aloft as though waving his hat, 
 uttered a low cry of triumph, and, staggering, 
 fell upon the sand, his head upon the bosom of 
 the girl. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 HOW THE SAILOR EARLE BECAME ONE OF THE 
 " WOLVES." 
 
 : IST the afternoon of the same day, Earle 
 was about to issue from the hostelry of 
 the Cat and Bdl, when a thundering 
 knock at his door made him turn quick- 
 ly toward a brace of pistols lying upon the 
 table. 
 
 " Has my good friend Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke perchance gained an inkling of my real 
 character, and of what is in store for him ? " 
 he muttered. And turning to the door, 
 " Come in ! " he said. 
 
 As he uttered the words, he cocked one of his 
 pistols, prepared for whatever was to come. 
 
 The door opened, and the huge " wolf " with 
 whom he had fought in the morning, entered. 
 5 (65) 
 
66 HOW EARLE BECAME A "WOLF." 
 
 His head nearly touched the low ceiling. 
 His countenance was a great mass of shaggy 
 hair. Low down on his forehead grew a similar 
 mass, and he resembled rather a wild animal 
 than a human being. 
 
 "I be come to see you, master," said the 
 wolf. 
 
 " And who are you ? " retorted Earle. 
 
 " My name be Goliath, master," returned the 
 Anak, " and the wolves are waiting to catch you 
 up and make you one of us." 
 
 Earle gazed at the speaker, and saw that this 
 man was a friend. If there was any doubt of 
 the fact, his next words removed it. 
 
 "I felt your hand to-day, master," said 
 Goliath : " it is heavy, but I want to feel it 
 again." 
 
 As he spoke, Goliath extended a paw as large 
 nearly as a ham, and half covered with hair. 
 
 " Good ! " said Earle ; " there it is." 
 
 And he reached out his own. It was small, 
 bronzed, and had the grasp of a vice. 
 
 The giant winced. 
 
 " It hits hard, and it hits fair," he said. " I be 
 sorry I quarrelled, master ; but I am going to 
 make up that." 
 
 Suddenly he turned up Earle's cuff. A blue 
 
HOW EARLE BECAME A "WOLF" 67 
 
 anchor was tattooed, sailor-fashion, on the white 
 wrist. 
 
 " I knew that," said Goliath ; " nobody but a 
 sailor would 'a' ventured as you did to-day." 
 
 " Well, I am a sailor." 
 
 " Which makes it all the better ; you knocked 
 me down, and after that I would 'a' fought you. 
 You went out in the surf and the 'longshore- 
 men are a-going to .make you a wolf !" 
 
 As he spoke a loud roar was heard in the 
 street without, evidently uttered by the 
 wolves. 
 
 Earle laughed, and muttered, 
 
 " A strange life this of mine ! to be made 
 a chief of the Iroquois in Canada, and one of 
 the wolves in Wales ! " 
 
 The roar was again heard. 
 
 " The wolves be waiting, master ! " said 
 Goliath. 
 
 " Keady ! " said Earle. 
 
 And walking beside the giant, he descended to 
 the street, where a great crowd of tattered, fierce- 
 looking arid shaggy-bearded 'longshoremen were 
 gathered with intent to do him honor. 
 
 " Stop your howling ! " shouted Goliath, 
 " and be orderly, will you ! " 
 
 The roar ceased for a moment, but was re- 
 
68 HOW EARLE BECAME A ''WOLF." 
 
 snmed an instant afterwards with fresh zest. 
 The noise seemed to excite the crowd. From 
 hoarse shouts they proceeded to action. Earle 
 suddenly found himself caught up, borne aloft 
 in triumph, and then his captors at the head of 
 whom was Goliath, surged into the low-pitched 
 common-room, of the inn, where Earle was 
 placed upon a table in the midst. 
 
 At his side, on the floor stood Goliah, one 
 hand on his shoulder. 
 
 "What be your name, master?" said the 
 giant. 
 
 A singular sentiment moved the sailor. Con- 
 tent to assume a false name with indifferent per- 
 sons or enemies, with these rough friends it 
 was different. Something uncontrollable within 
 him made him answer, 
 
 " Edmond Earle !" 
 
 At that reply a man who had been seated in 
 a dark corner started, rose suddenly, and went 
 out of the inn. As he disappeared, one of the 
 'longshoremen scowled after him and laid his 
 hand on his knife. The man who had gone out 
 was Wilde, the emissary of Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke ; and Earle, in thus uttering his real 
 name, had committed a terrible imprudence. 
 
 He did not see Wilde, however. The wolves 
 
HOW EARLE BECAME A "WOLF" 69 
 
 were admitting him, with rude ceremonies, into 
 the pale of their order. 
 
 A gigantic beaker of usquebaugh was first 
 raised to his lips ; each drank from it in turn, 
 and then the residue was poured upon the 
 floor. 
 
 As the liquor fell from the beaker, Goliath 
 exclaimed, in his voice of thunder, 
 
 " So the blood of all who hunt the wolves 
 shall J>e poured out ! " 
 
 And clapping Earle on the shoulder, 
 
 " From to-day you be a wolf, master ! " he 
 said. 
 
 T 
 
 The wolves roared in approbation. 
 
 " Join hands ! " thundered Goliath. 
 
 At the word the wild figures linked hands 
 and began to dance around the table. Earle 
 had never witnessed so strange a spectacle. 
 There was something at once ferocious and 
 grotesque in these ragged figures circling the 
 table in their mad dance. Three times they 
 thus whirled around him, and then the circle 
 broke and they again caught the sailor up on 
 their shoulders. All resistance was impossible. 
 He was borne forth and carried through the 
 streets in triumph. 
 
 When, an hour afterwards, he was realeased, 
 
70 HOW EARLE BECAME A "WOLF." 
 
 and woke as it were from this orgy of dream- 
 land, he saw Goliath standing beside him, and 
 heard the giant say, 
 
 " You be one of us now, master ; and woe be 
 to him who lays his hand on you ! " 
 
 At the same moment the man Wilde entered 
 Westbrooke Hall, and hastened to the baronet. 
 
 " Well ? " said the master. 
 
 "I have something terrible to report, sir!" 
 said the man. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 And the baronet rose, as if on steel springs. 
 
 " The person who visited you here last night, 
 sir " 
 
 Wilde paused. 
 
 " Speak ! " shouted the baronet, shaking him 
 by the collar. 
 
 " Is who would have believed it ! " 
 
 The baronet's hand passed to the man's 
 throat. 
 
 " Is is " muttered Wilde, in a half -stran- 
 gled voice " Edmond Earle ! " 
 
 The baronet turned ghastly pale, and stared 
 at the speaker with stupefaction. 
 
 "Edmond Earle !" he said in a low voice, 
 " the Edmond Earle ? " 
 
HOW EARLE BECAME A "WOLF" 71 
 
 " The same, sir. There was something famil- 
 iar in his look." 
 
 The baronet's eyes blazed. 
 
 " Then he is not dead, after all ! " 
 
 " No, since we have seen him sir, and I have 
 heard him give his name as Earle." 
 
 In a few words the man related what had 
 occurred at the inn. 
 
 "Yes I see now I was deceived," said 
 the baronet in a low tone. " He is here cool 
 and determined ready, and he knows my 
 secret. Fool ! from this moment he is dead ! 
 Dead men tell no tales.'* 
 
CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 ELLINOR MAVERICK. 
 
 I HEN broken in npon by the wolves, 
 Earle had been preparing to take a 
 ride. 
 
 An hour after the ending of the cere- 
 mony which inducted him into the band of 
 " wolves," he mounted a horse procured at the 
 inn, and set out on his ride. 
 
 As he went on, a singular emotion agitated 
 him. The occasion of this was the name of the 
 gentleman and ladies whom he had rescued. 
 This name was Maverick. 
 
 Maverick ! Could it then be the head of this 
 family whom Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke had 
 murdered? Had no steps been taken to dis- 
 cover the criminal ? Into what black mystery 
 was he, Edmond Earle, about to plunge ? He 
 
 (72) 
 
ELLINOR MAVERICK. 73 
 
 had received the warm thanks of the gentleman 
 and two young ladies whom he had rescued. 
 They had urged " Mr. Delamere," in the most 
 pressing manner, to visit them at their home, 
 "Maverick House." The road had been 
 pointed out to the sailor ; and, emerging from 
 the fishing village, he already saw the mansion 
 on its lofty hill, about a league distant. 
 
 He soon reached the great gate, and riding up 
 an avenue, dismounted and gave his bridle^ to a 
 servant. Maverick House was ancient, but 
 cheerful and inviting. Dogs were basking in 
 the sunshine on the long portico, where the light 
 nitrating through variegated foliage threw its 
 twinkling shadows; and on the steps stood, 
 smiling cordially and ready to welcome Earle, the 
 gentleman of the boat, Arthur Maverick. 
 
 Arthur Maverick was a young man of about 
 Earle's age; thin, pale, and sad-looking, but 
 courteous and cordial. He welcomed the sailor 
 warmly, and conducted him into the mansion, 
 whose appointments were at once substantial and 
 elegant. In a cage a linnet was singing ; old 
 dogs wandered about ; and a lapdog, small and 
 hideous, which made him immensely valuable, 
 ran yelping to announce the visitor to the two 
 young ladies whose lives he had saved. 
 
74 ELLINOR MAVERICK. 
 
 Ellinor Maverick, the eldest, was tall, with 
 raven hair and dark eyes, instinct with a subtle 
 fascination. The great eyes melted or fired ; the 
 red lips, full and moist, curled satirically or were 
 wreathed with dazzling smiles ; in every out- 
 line of her rounded and supple figure there was 
 the superb beauty of the animal the tigress 
 you were apt to think ; and with only a slight 
 effort of the imagination you might fancy the 
 beautiful creature " in act to spring." 
 
 Rose Maverick was altogether different. 
 About nineteen, Ellinor was older, slender, 
 brown-haired, with soft, violet eyes, and an ex- 
 quisite expression of candor and goodness, 
 Rose made children and old ladies love her, 
 and men take no notice of her. The latter went 
 crazy about Ellinor, and did not even look at 
 Rose. One was the dazzling sunlight, the other 
 the pensive moonlight. From the first moment 
 Earle's eyes were dazzled ; and on his return to 
 the inn that night, a strange throbbing of the 
 heart accompanied his recollection of the superb 
 Ellinor. 
 
 On the next day he went to Maverick House 
 again, and on the next, and the next. 
 
 He was fascinated. - That term best expresses 
 his sentiment towards Ellinor Maverick. It 
 
ELLINOR MAVERICK. 75 
 
 would be incorrect to say that he loved her ; 
 he was crazy about her, and the great melting 
 or blazing eyes had wrought the charm. 
 
 At times his neglect of the important object 
 which had brought him to the coast of Pem- 
 brokeshire weighed heavily upon his spirits. 
 Was he not criminally disobeying the orders 
 which he had received ? Was he not neglecting 
 his sworn duty 3 Would not the crew of the 
 corvette wonder what had become of their cap- 
 tain, and the boat at the secret rendezvous re- 
 turn nightly to find him still absent, paying no 
 attention to his appointment ? Earle asked 
 himself those questions, and gloomily shook his 
 head. Then he would find himself beside 
 Ellinor Maverick. All his depression would 
 disappear. Her golden smile would shine upon 
 him, and the dazzled moth would circle careless 
 around the light, drawing every moment nearer 
 to his fate. 
 
 It came at last. Nearly ten days had elapsed 
 since his first meeting with the young lady. 
 He had never spoken of his love in plain words, 
 for an instant, but now a little incident drove 
 him to that proceeding. 
 
 Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke was the occasion 
 of the denouement. Earle had well-nigh for- 
 
V6 ELLINOR MAVERICK. 
 
 gotten the baronet, and the strange history re- 
 lared by the gypsy. Was the " Giles Maverick, 
 Esquire," assassinated at the pool by him, a rel- 
 ative of the family at Maverick House ? He 
 -had intended, often, to ask that question, but 
 something had always prevented. Either the 
 occasion was wanting, or his interviews with 
 Arthur Maverick had been interrupted ; always 
 something had intervened to withhold him from 
 ascertaining the truth. 
 
 At last the opportunity came. He was con- 
 versing with Arthur Maverick one evening, 
 when the latter pronounced the name of Sir 
 Murdaugh Westbrooke. 
 
 Earle looked keenly at him. 
 
 " Are you acquainted with that gentleman ? " 
 he said. 
 
 " Very well," was the young man's reply. 
 
 "And he is a friend?" 
 
 Arther hesitated. 
 
 " No," he said, at length. 
 
 Earle observed a singular coldness in his com- 
 panion's tones, and said, 
 
 " You do not like the baronet ? " 
 
 " I feel some delicacy in replying to that 
 question," returned Arthur Maverick. 
 
 "Why? "said Earle. 
 
ELLINOR MAVERICK. 77 
 
 " Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke is a suitor for 
 the hand of my cousin." 
 
 Earle started, and looked at his companion in 
 utter astonishment. 
 
 u Your cousin ? Sir Murdaugh her suitor ? 
 Who is your cousin, my dear Mr. Maverick 2 " 
 
 " Ellinor. I thought you knew that she was 
 not my sister, Mr. Delamere. She is the daugh- 
 ter of my father's brother. On the death of 
 that gentleman she had no home, and came to 
 live with us here. You seem astonished." 
 
 " No, no," stammered Earle. " Sir Murdaugh 
 Westbrooke a suitor! and for the hand of 
 why, 'tis monstrous ! " And his face flushed. 
 " That is to say may I ask you a question, Mr. 
 Maverick ? You speak of your father's brother ; 
 he is dead, you say. Your father also is dead, 
 is he not ? " 
 
 " Some years since," was the reply, in a low 
 tone. 
 
 " May I ask the cause of his death ? " 
 
 Arthur Maverick's head sank. 
 
 " lie was cruelly murdered, Mr. Delamere ; 
 and in the most mysterious manner ! " 
 
 " Ah ! a murder, sir ! " 
 
 "An infamous murder, by whom we have 
 never discovered. lie left home one evening 
 
78 ELLINOR MAVERICK. 
 
 on horseback, and his dog returned some hours 
 afterwards without him. It was a very intelli- 
 gent blood-hound ; he is still living, old and al- 
 most blind ; and he led the way to a pool in the 
 woods, where my father's body was discovered." 
 
 Earle remained for some moments silent. 
 Then he said, 
 
 " And 110 clue has ever been discovered to the 
 murder ? " 
 
 " None whatever. It is still wrapped in the 
 profoundest mystery." 
 
 Earle nodded his head coolly, and said, 
 
 " Pardon my intrusive questions, Mr. Maver- 
 ick; I see they agitate you, and I regret them. 
 To return to the worthy Sir Murdaugh "West- 
 brooke, your cousin's suitor. Does she* smile 
 upon him ? " 
 
 " I am afraid so." 
 
 " You say that in the tone of one who regrets 
 a thing," said Earle, whose heart suddenly sank. 
 " Is it possible that the baronet, an aged and 
 not agreeable person, I think, has succeeded in 
 the role of a lover ? " 
 
 Arthur Maverick did not reply for an instant, 
 then he said, 
 
 " We are not wealthy, sir. Ellinor has 
 
ELLINOR MAVERICK. 79 
 
 nothing ; and Sir Murdaugh is a person of great 
 possessions." 
 
 " Ah ! and hence he succeeds ! Miss Maver- 
 ick barters her beauty against money. Pardon 
 my rudeness, sir ; I am a sailor, and speak 
 without ceremony. Her preferred suitor! It 
 is monstrous ! It cannot be ! I will know the 
 truth!" 
 
 And leaving his companion abruptly, Earle 
 went with pale face and glowing eyes toward 
 Ellinor Maverick, who was standing near one 
 of the great windows in the drawing-room. 
 
 Her golden smile said " Come ! you have 
 stayed away from me too long ! " Her glance 
 was magnetic, alluring, almost passionate, and 
 seemed to pierce through him. 
 
 " Is Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke your suitor ? " 
 he said. "Answer that question plainly, I pray 
 you." 
 
 Her silver laugh rang out. 
 
 " Yonder he comes ; why not ask him ? " she 
 said, pointing through the window. " Strange 
 that you and he have never met before, Mr. 
 Delamere ! " 
 
CHAPTEK XII. 
 
 "IT is TIME !" 
 
 FEW minutes afterwards Sir Murdaugli 
 Westbrooke entered, clad as became his 
 rank, and grinning in his most attract- 
 ive manner. 
 At sight of Earle, however, he suddenly grew 
 livid, and the grotesque grin was succeeded by 
 a glance full of menace. 
 
 For an instant their hostile glances flashed 
 and crossed like rapiers. Then Earle regained 
 his coolness, continued to converse with Ellinor 
 Maverick ; and that young lady's handsome 
 back was turned upon Sir Murdaugh. 
 
 The baronet's expression thereat grew veno- 
 mous. His demeanor toward Earle was a 
 mixture of apprehension and suppressed rage ; 
 but no one noticed it certainly not the fair 
 
 (80) 
 
"IT IS TIME!" 81 
 
 Ellinor, who leaned forward, resting her rosy 
 cheek upon her snowy hand, so as to exhibit 
 the charms of an exquisitely rounded arm, and 
 gazed at Earle with an air of deep and fascin- 
 ated interest. 
 
 That expression, in the eyes of a beautiful 
 woman, is dangerous. It had its full effect 
 upon the sailor. He felt his heart beat, and 
 the blood rushed to his cheeks. Through a sort 
 of haze he seemed to see an angel, or a devil, 
 he knew not which, whose eyes said to him, 
 " You did right to take me away from that 
 hideous satyr yonder. We are young. Love is 
 the only true life. Love me, and I will love 
 you, and be yours!" 
 
 When a commonplace question from Rose 
 Maverick broke the spell, Earle seemed to fall 
 suddenly from some fairy realm into the cold 
 world again. lie turned quickly. Sir Mur- 
 daugh Westbrooke was looking at him and 
 Ellinor with all the furies raging in his heart. 
 
 lie rose his visit had lasted less than an 
 hour, but it had seemed a century of torment. 
 Declaring stiffly that he had only ridden out to 
 take the air, and must now return, he bowed 
 low, shot a wrathful glance at Ellinor Maverick 
 and went Out, accompanied by Arthur Maverick, 
 
82 "IT 7S TIME!" 
 
 whose manner throughout the interview had 
 been perfectly courteous but also perfectly for- 
 mal. 
 
 Two hours afterwards, Earle in his turn 
 mounted and directed his way toward the Til- 
 lage. 
 
 His head was turning, almost, A passionate 
 scene had occurred between himself and the 
 fair Ellinor on the portico. She had magnetized 
 him, drawn him on, said " Come ! " with her 
 eyes, and when he poured out his passion, 
 quietly laughed at him. 
 
 Ten minutes afterwards, he was riding away ; 
 as he went he Inuttered to himself, 
 
 " So that folly ends, and the end is fortunate, 
 perhaps. Earle the sailor is not to cast anchor 
 yet so much the better ; the wind is fair, and 
 there is fighting and sailing to do. Fighting ? 
 Come ! I think there was some question of that 
 once ! I've been crazy, but am sane now; I was 
 dreaming, but am awake ! To work, laggard ! 
 and obey your orders. You came hither under 
 orders, and you are shirking your duty. Your 
 men await you nightly, yonder ; act this night, 
 and leave the accursed land where you've fallen 
 into a woman's toils ! Come ! to work ! Ah ! 
 Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, my clear assassin and 
 
"IT fS TIME!" 83 
 
 rival, beware! This very night I will lay a 
 heavy hand upon you ! " 
 
 He was passing, as he thus muttered, through 
 a dark hollow in the hills. 
 
 " It is time, brother ! " said a voice, " or lie 
 will lay his hand on you ! " 
 
 And the speaker advanced from the shadow 
 of a huge hemlock, beneath which he had been 
 concealed. 
 
 It was the gypsy. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE MAN EN" THE COACH. 
 
 1, startled for an instant in spite of 
 himself, by the apparition in his path, 
 quickly regained his coolness, and drew 
 rein to converse with his companion. 
 " You say ? " said Earle. 
 " That Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke is plotting 
 to destroy you," said , the gypsy. "I know it 
 from hearing the thing with my ears, brother." 
 " Tell me all about it." 
 
 And dismounting, Earle threw his bridle 
 over his arm, and walked on beside the gypsy. 
 
 " Well, I will do so, brother. Night is the 
 time to talk ; and I think the stars yonder are 
 friendly to the brethren of the Rommanye 
 Rye. Here is the way I discovered all. I had 
 been to make a visit to Westbrooke Hall " 
 (84) 
 
THE MAN- IN THE COACH. 85 
 
 " Not to converse with the baronet on that 
 business ? " interrupted Earl. 
 
 The gypsy smiled in a manner which dis- 
 played a double row of teeth. 
 
 " No, brother. To tell you the truth, I don't 
 like the thought of going there on that errand. 
 Some accident might happen to me ; I might 
 be set up in a chair, opposite that other grin- 
 ning i old gentleman,' in the grave-clothes ! " 
 
 " I understand," said Earle. 
 
 " I had other business, and I succeeded in it, 
 brother. I had made a little plot against the 
 other wolf-hound. Some day, I said, I may 
 have to visit Westbrooke Park. Then the 
 hound will prove an ugly customer, and give 
 the alarm. Better act in time, and pay my re- 
 spects to his honor, the wolf-hound ! " 
 
 " I understand, 2 ' repeated Earle. 
 
 " So I went to see this good watch-dog in his 
 kennel," continued the gypsy ; 6t and to make my 
 visit more acceptable, carried with me a piece 
 of fresh meat. This I threw to our friend, the 
 hound, just as he sprung out to give the alarm, 
 lie gobbled it up instead of barking. I hid in 
 the bushes near, and in about fifteen minutes 
 the dog seemed to grow sick. Then he bit the 
 ground and tugged at his chain, and ended by 
 
86 THE MAN IN THE COACH. 
 
 rolling on his back, beating the air with his 
 paws, and then lying cpiet." 
 
 " Poisoned ? " 
 
 " Yes, brother. He is not apt to trouble us 
 further. I saw that he was done for and has- 
 tened to retreat from the park. When I reach- 
 ed the great woods, I thought I was safe ; but as 
 I was gliding through a thicket skirting the 
 main road, I thought 1 heard footsteps in the 
 undergrowth, and lay down listening. The 
 steps came nearer. From my covert I saw a 
 man, with a gun on his shoulder, pass within 
 twenty feet of me, and as he approached the 
 road I could hear the hoof-strokes of a 
 horse." 
 
 "The baronet?" 
 
 " Yes. He was coming back, it seemed, from 
 a visit, as I soon found that he was in full 
 dress. The man who was his gamekeeper, 
 Yfilde, had chanced to be going his rounds and 
 met him. The baronet stopped, and I could 
 see, through an opening, by the starlight, that 
 his face was pale and full of anger at some- 
 thing." 
 
 Earle nodded. 
 
 " I can explain that. "Well, you saw, 
 doubtless you also heard." 
 
THE MAN IN THE COACH. 87 
 
 " Yes, brother, I was born with a great hank- 
 ering after finding out everything. I crawled 
 along, without making a noise, until I was 
 within a few yards of these good people, and 
 hiding in a clump of bush, listened. I had 
 torn my rags to worse rags, but what I heard 
 was worth the expense. I need not tell you 
 what they said ; it amounted to this that you 
 were to be waylaid and ' got rid of.' That was 
 the baronet's phrase. As to me, I was to be 
 treated in the same way. You see he knows 
 we Jmow his secret, and as long as we are alive 
 he is not safe. lie is in a violent rage with 
 you at something, besides, which occurred to- 
 night, it seems ; and, hearing the name, 
 1 Maverick House,' where, it appears, you 
 were on a visit, I thought I'd warn you in time, 
 brother." 
 
 " You did well, forewarned, forearmed," 
 said Earle. "Was anything more said between 
 the worthies?" 
 
 "They were interrupted." 
 
 "By whom?" 
 
 " As they were talking in low tones, on the 
 side of the road, within a few feet of me, a fine 
 coach, drawn by four horses, came along, going 
 toward the Hall, and, as it passed, a gentleman 
 
88 THE MAN IN THE COACH. 
 
 put his head out of the window, and said, c Is 
 not that Sir Murdaugli Westbrooke ? ' ' Yes,' 
 the baronet replied. ' I am the Viscount 
 Cecil,' said the man in the coach. And the 
 baronet bowed, came up, talked for some min- 
 utes, and at last got into the coach, which rolled 
 away toward the Hall, "Wilde having taken his 
 master's horse. Then I set off to find you ; the 
 grass has not grown under my feet. What will 
 you do, brother ? " 
 
 But Earle did not reply. A sudden glow had 
 come to his countenance. 
 
 " Are you sure you heard aright ? " he ex- 
 clainxed. "The man in the coach gave his 
 name as Viscount Cecil ? " 
 
 " I heard the name distinctly, brother. It 
 seems to interest you." 
 
 " It does, I swear to you ! And you heard 
 nothing more ?^" 
 
 " Only something about his having come 
 down to his estates, from Parliament, to see 
 the baronet on business, or something of the 
 sort." 
 
 " Good ! f Parliament,' that is enough ! 
 f Viscount Cecil,' there can be no doubt. It 
 is he ! " 
 
 " What do you say, brother ? " 
 
THE MAN IN THE COACH. 89 
 
 " Nothing. Ah, the man in the coach the 
 man in the coach ! That decides me. I might 
 have been weak this makes me resolute ! " 
 
 And turning to the gypsy, he added, 
 
 " I am about to leave this country, brother. 
 Do not count on my co-operation with you, and 
 look out for yourself. One thing only I can 
 promise you : I think that I will rid you of your 
 enemy, Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke. All is 
 ready ! To-night decides ! Farewell, brother ! 
 May the stars guide you ! " 
 
 lie uttered the last words in the gypsy 
 tongue, and made a salute peculiar to the fra- 
 ternity. 
 
 Then, putting spurs to his horse, he disap- 
 peared at full gallop in the darkness. 
 
 The gypsy gazed after him with an ex- 
 pression of wonder, and then began running 
 in the same direction ; that is, toward Oldport. 
 
 The village was not, however, Earle's destina- 
 tion now. Once out of sight of the gypsy, an 
 individual whom he seemed to decline trusting, 
 he turned to the right, rode rapidly toward the 
 coast, reached the -foot of the great headland, 
 on which we have witnessed his interview with 
 the sad-looking woman, and, dismounting, con- 
 cealed his horse in a thicket. 
 
90 THE MAN IN THE COACH. 
 
 He then advanced upon foot, without losing 
 a moment, toward the spot where he had dis- 
 embarked from the boat, and following a wind- 
 ing path, along narrow ledges of rock, came in 
 sight of the little indentation in the precipice. 
 
 The boat was awaiting him. There were 
 four men in it they seemed to have just 
 arrived. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 qi HE young sailor passed along the narrow 
 ledge, with the activity of a chamois, and 
 suddenly stood in presence of the boat's 
 crew. 
 
 All hands went to their hats. 
 " Welcome, Captain ! " said one whose tone 
 was that of an officer ; "you see we obey orders. 
 I was growing uneasy." 
 
 " Thanks, Dargonne! "Well, the time has 
 arrived. The affair will take place to-night. 
 Come ashore, order the men to follow us. I 
 see they are armed, as I ordered. Direct them 
 to make no noise and come on quickly, keeping 
 us in sight." 
 
 Lieutenant Dargonne, a small wiry-looking 
 
 (91) 
 
92 THE NIGHT MARCH. 
 
 personage, clad in plain clothes, like the men, 
 turned and communicated Earle's orders. 
 
 The men silently stepped from the boat: 
 attached it to a splintered rock by a chain, and 
 followed Earle and Dargonne, who passed back 
 along the narrow path by which Earle had 
 come. 
 
 Reaching the slope of the headland again 
 toward the interior, Earle went to the thicket 
 in which he had tethered his horse, untied the 
 animal, led him by the bridle, and, followed 
 by the sailors, made a circuit so as to avoid 
 Oldport, and approached Westbrooke Hall. 
 
 " The moment has come now, my dear Dar- 
 gonne," he said to his companion, "to tell you 
 my project. I have not done so before, in obe- 
 dience to orders. A few words will explain 
 everything. France and England are at war. 
 In America the war has been barbarous, they say, 
 on the part of England, and it seems growing 
 as barbarous here. The English admiralty 
 have issued orders to their cruisers to descend 
 upon the French coast, whenever an opportunity 
 offered, and carry off persons of position and 
 influence to be held as hostages. This policy 
 has been adopted in obedience to the wishes of 
 the English party in power, and this party is 
 
THE NIGHT MARCH. 93 
 
 led in Parliament by Viscount Cecil, who made 
 a violent oration urging the policy I speak of. 
 His oration was reported in the English journals ; 
 these were transmitted to His Majesty, King 
 Louis ; in consequence, the cruisers of His 
 Majesty have received orders to retort by de- 
 scending upon the English coast and carrying 
 off any persons of rank and importance whom 
 they can lay their hands oh." 
 
 Dargonne made a sign that he understood 
 perfectly. 
 
 " Blow for blow ! That is only fair," he 
 said. 
 
 " Entirely fair, my dear Dargonne ; and now 
 to come to the work before us. When I re- 
 ceived the general order to land at any point I 
 thought proper on the English coast for the 
 object in view, I decided to visit the coast of 
 Pembrokshire, hoping to seize the Viscount 
 Cecil himself. I had already visited this coast, 
 as you know ; and the viscount's large estates 
 lay near Old port. I might find him at home 
 after Parliament, and that would be superb. 
 So I came, but soon found that the viscount 
 was still in London ; then I planned the seizure 
 of a cousin of his, Sir Murdaugh TVestbrooke. 
 I visited Westbrooke Hall to reconnoitre, and 
 
94 THE NIGHT MARCH. 
 
 did so. Then the attack wo,tild Lave been 
 made it should have been but I have been 
 weak, Dargonne ! No more of that it is over! 
 I am Earle the sailor again, and will act like 
 him. I was to have made my attack on West- 
 brooke Hall to-night, my object being to carry 
 off the baronet, the viscount's cousin. ]3ut 
 suddenly an immense piece of good fortune has 
 happened to us. The viscount himself has 
 arrived ! " 
 
 "Viscount Cecil?" 
 
 "Himself to-night." 
 
 " The man who set the whole policy against 
 France in motion ! " 
 
 "The very man. And think we shall seize 
 him to-night ! He is at Westbrooke Hall ! " 
 
 Dargonne clucked his tongue in a rapturous 
 manner. 
 
 " Magnificent ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Is it not ? " said Earle, his eyes sparkling with 
 joy. "Such an opportunity to win rank and 
 distinction is seldom offered to a privateersman." 
 
 "Not in one hundred years, Captain ! It is 
 splendid unheard of. Viscount Cecil not 
 only a Lord, but the man His Majesty hates! 
 We will be presented thanked, at court. Jean 
 Bart will be forgotten ! " 
 
THE NIGHT MARCH. 95 
 
 Earle made a gesture checking his compan- 
 ion. 
 
 " The work is not done ; we may fail," he 
 said. 
 
 "Fail?" 
 
 " May not succeed in seizing his lordship and 
 the baronet, for I aim to secure both. All 
 human affairs are doubtful." 
 
 "This must succeed! What are the obsta- 
 cles ? Are there retainers to meet our cutlasses 
 dogs to alarm them ? " 
 
 "Fortunately no dogs. The only one was 
 poisoned to-night and will not be able to an- 
 nounce our approach. And as to retainers, they 
 are few. The viscount, and possibly the baro- 
 net, will, however, make resistance." 
 
 "A trifle." 
 
 " Let us undervalue nothing, Dargonne. I 
 have succeeded and failed ; but if I fail now, it 
 will be after exhausting every effort. The vis- 
 count is at Westbrooke Hall there it is through 
 the opening in the trees yonder ! We will ap- 
 proach without noise, and enter either by surprise 
 or escalade. If the viscount is captured, he will 
 be mounted on this horse the baronet on 
 another from his own stables, and they will 
 be conducted rapidly to the boat, thence to the 
 
96 THE NIGHT MARCH. 
 
 corvette; and we will make sail for France, 
 and be out of sight of the coast by daylight." 
 
 They had reached the wall of the park. 
 Earle threw the bridle of his horse over a bough 
 in a sheltered nook, and at one bound cleared 
 the wall, followed by Dargonne and the sailors. 
 
 As he did so, a shadow glided from beneath 
 an oak. At one bound Earle seized the shadow 
 it was the gypsy. 
 
 "You hurt my throat, brother," said the 
 
 gypsy- 
 
 " Ah, it is you ! How did you come here ? " 
 
 " I followed you, brother," returned the vaga- 
 bond coolly; "and if you are willing, I will 
 help you in your work." 
 
 Earle reflected for an instant. It was plain 
 that the gypsy had no motive to prove false to 
 him ; and the presence of the men made it im- 
 possible for him to escape and give the alarm if 
 he wished to do so. 
 
 " It is well, brother," said Earle ; " follow me 
 and obey my directions." 
 
 The gypsy fell back to the ranks of the 
 sailors. 
 
 " See that the men make no noise now, Dar- 
 goune," said Earle, " and above all, that no fire- 
 arms are used. The attack will be made from 
 
THE NIGHT MARCH. 97 
 
 the rear of the house, to prevent resistance and 
 an alarm. Let every one preserve silence and 
 follow me." 
 
 As he spoke, they came to the desolate-look- 
 ing expanse immediately in front of West- 
 brooke Hall. 
 
CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 THE VISCOUNT CECIL. 
 
 jET us precede the assaulting party, and 
 ascertain what was going on in West- 
 brooke Hall at the moment when they 
 silently followed the path through the 
 woods to seize the coveted prize. 
 
 In the large apartment where the interview 
 between Earle and the baronet had taken place, 
 Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke and the Viscount 
 Cecil were seated, coldly conversing. 
 
 The viscount was a gentleman of command- 
 ing appearance, and had once been handsome ; 
 ill health, or some other cause, however, had 
 reduced a frame once powerful. It was an 
 invalid, almost, who talked with the baronet, 
 but an invalid of superb and commanding ex- 
 pression and bearing. 
 
 (98) 
 
THE VISCOUNT CECIL. 99 
 
 " I have long desired to hold this interview, 
 but have been constantly prevented, sir," he said 
 to the baronet, in a cold tone. 
 
 " Its object, my lord ? " was the formal ques- 
 tion of the baronet. 
 
 " Family affairs ; and to propose to you an 
 arrangement which may prove agreeable to 
 us both." 
 
 Sir Murdaugh "Westbrooke became more for- 
 mal and stiff than before. Two icebergs seemed 
 to have encountered each other ; under the fro- 
 zen crust of these men's countenances no emo- 
 tion of any description was discernible. 
 
 " An < arrangement,' my lord ? you have an 
 arrangement to propose to me \ " said the baro- 
 net, with ill-concealed suspicion. " I listen, and 
 shall be glad to know of what character it is." 
 
 The "Viscount remained for a moment silent, 
 his eyes fixed upon the floor; then he raised 
 his head and said in measured and formal 
 tones, 
 
 " Permit me, in the first place, to state briefly 
 the relations we now sustain toward each other, 
 sir. That will lead to a clear understanding of 
 the offer I propose to make you. When the 
 last Lord Wentworth died, he was almost with- 
 out blood relations. Two young cousins, you 
 
100 THE VISCOUNT CECIL. 
 
 and myself, sir, were the nearest, and were se- 
 lected by him to be his heirs. By his will, you 
 were to have the great Westbrooke property 
 here ; I that upon which his lordship had resided 
 in this neighborhood. That is correct, is it 
 not, sir?" 
 
 "Wholly correct, my lord." was the cold 
 reply. 
 
 " I will proceed, then, sir. There was a pro- 
 viso in the will, that if either you or myself 
 died without issue, the survivor should inherit. 
 Thus the entire property of Lord Wentworth 
 would remain in his family. That also is cor- 
 rect, sir, is it not ? " 
 
 " Entirely, my lord." 
 
 " "Well, now for my proposition, sir. I do not 
 propose to marry, and think it improbable 
 that you design doing so. Thus you will in- 
 herit from me, or I will inherit from you : the 
 chance is even, perhaps. I am an invalid, but 
 one of those invalids who live longer than 
 strong men ; and your age is greater by some 
 years than mine in brief, I may survive 
 you." 
 
 "It is possible, as your lordship says," re- 
 turned the baronet, with his ghastly grin. 
 
 " Well, I propose a compromise ; and I will 
 
THE VISCOUNT CECIL. 101 
 
 be entirely frank, sir, in stating its object. A 
 great grief has rendered me lonely, the death 
 of rny wife, a fact of which you are aware. 
 I am solitary and crave affection ; thus I have 
 fixed my regards upon a young lady whom I 
 wish to adopt as my daughter. To this young 
 lady I wish to leave a portion of my property; 
 in fine, I propose, sir, to convey to you, now, 
 one-half my entire estate, if, in return, you 
 will execute an instrument settling the other 
 half on the young lady, to be her own at my 
 death." 
 
 "The name of the young lady, my lord, if 
 you please ? " said Sir Murdaugh, coldly. 
 
 " It is unimportant I will withhold it for 
 the present. What say you to my proposition, 
 sir ? " 
 
 Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke rose, with a grin 
 of unconcealed triumph. 
 
 " I say that circumstances render it impossi- 
 ble for me to accept it, my lord ! " 
 
 " Circumstances \ Of what nature, sir ? " 
 
 " I will be franker than your lordship. The 
 circumstance of my approaching marriage." 
 
 " Your marriage ? " 
 
 " Your lordship dwells upon the word 
 'your;' it is scarce polite." 
 
102 THE VISCOUNT CECIL. 
 
 The viscount suddenly grew freezing. 
 
 " Your pardon, sir. It was, indeed, scant 
 courtesy. I will not further trouble you, save 
 to congratulate you upon your approaching 
 nuptials." 
 
 The baronet bowed ironically. 
 
 " I can understand, sir," said the viscount, in 
 the same tone, " that your parental anticipations 
 quite overturn my own views. Your children 
 may inherit my estate : so be it, sir. God has 
 so decreed it." 
 
 Something like a convulsion passed over the 
 pale face. Then it resumed its expression of 
 lofty and commanding calmness, and the vis- 
 count said, 
 
 "Will you be good enough to order my 
 coach, sir ? I will sleep at my own home to- 
 night." 
 
 As he uttered the words, the window in the 
 adjoining room was driven in by a heavy blow, 
 the sash was thrown up, and Earle, at the head 
 of his men, leaped into the apartment. 
 
CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 THE ATTACK AND PURSUIT. 
 
 AELE advanced with drawn sword to- 
 ward the viscount and baronet. 
 
 " Surrender, or you are dead 1 " he 
 said, presenting the point to the vis- 
 count's heart. 
 
 The nobleman's reply was to draw his dress- 
 sword, and lunge straight at Earle's breast. 
 
 But the sailor was far too powerful for him. 
 With a whirl -of his weapon, he sent the dress- 
 sword of the viscount spinning across the 
 room. 
 
 In spite of his disarmed condition, the vis- 
 count continued to resist, and. was with diffi- 
 culty secured. 
 
 "No harm is designed your lordship," said 
 Earle. 
 
 (103) 
 
104 THE ATTACK AND PURSUIT. 
 
 And he wheeled round to seize Sir Murdaugh 
 Westbrooke. 
 
 The baronet had disappeared, the explana- 
 tion of which was simple. 
 
 Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, for reasons best 
 known to himself, had amused his leisure mo- 
 ments by constructing in the wall of the apart- 
 ment a secret door, which opened by means of 
 a spring and closed in the same manner. Was 
 the secret recess, or means of exit, intended to 
 be employed in the event of a sudden advance 
 by the officers of the law upon him ? It is 
 impossible to say, but there was the means of 
 safety at hand, and the baronet made use of it. 
 
 Finding that the viscount was in the power of 
 the midnight assailants, Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke determined to save himself. At one 
 bound he reached the wall, leaned against the 
 concealed knob, the door flew open, the baronet 
 passed through it, and the panel flew to again, 
 protecting, with its three inches of solid oak, 
 the fugitive from all further danger. 
 
 Thus the baronet had evaded him, but Earle 
 had secured the greater prize. The frightened 
 servants had fled at the first noise, and no oppo- 
 sition was made. 
 
 " Now to gain the boat," said Earle ; " no 
 
THE ATTACK AND PURSUIT. 105 
 
 time is to be lost, as the alarm may be 
 given ! " 
 
 He made a sign and the great front door was 
 thrown open. 
 
 " Your lordship will please go with us qui- 
 etly," he said to the nobleman. 
 
 And the party, with the viscount in charge, 
 passed out and hurried through the park. 
 They soon reached the spot where they had en- 
 tered, found the horse quietly awaiting them ; 
 and Earle, with perfect .courtesy, requested the 
 viscount to mount. He did so without uttering 
 a word. One of the sailors led the animal by 
 the bridle ; Earle and Dargonne walked on 
 each side. The rest followed, and the cortege 
 set out rapidly in the direction of the coast. 
 
 When they had gone a hundred yards, Earle 
 turned, to the viscount and said, 
 
 " I beg that your lordship will have no ap- 
 prehensions. No harm will be done you, if 
 you make no resistance." 
 
 " Very well, sir " was the viscount's reply, in 
 a cold and unmoved voice ; " that at least is 
 gratifying. You have not asked for my purse, 
 I observe." 
 
 Earle colored with anger, but suppressed this 
 emotion at once. 
 
106 THE ATTACK AND PURSUIT. 
 
 " We do not wish to inspect the contents of 
 your lordship's pockets," he said, stiffly. 
 
 " May I ask your object, then, sir, in com- 
 mitting this extraordinary outrage upon my 
 person ? " 
 
 " The object was to capture your lordship," 
 said Earle calmly. 
 
 " To capture me \ " 
 
 " Precisely." 
 
 " For what reason ? I am really curious to 
 ascertain the object which you have in view, 
 sir. You appear to be a person of good breed- 
 ing, if I may judge of your character by the 
 tones of your voice ; and I need not inform 
 you that curiosity is most painful when left 
 ungratified." 
 
 There was a coolness and nonchalance in the 
 viscount's tones which highly pleased Earle, 
 and made him respect his adversary. 
 
 " I compliment your lordship on your calm- 
 ness, and thank you for your good opinion 
 The object of this little night attack need 
 not remain a secret. It is now unimportant 
 whether your lordship knows or is ignorant of 
 the meaning of every thing. We shall carry 
 you off, it is probable at least, and I trust 
 that the safety of my men will not require me 
 
THE ATTACK AND PURSUIT. 107 
 
 to put your lordship to death. I should regret 
 that, and will not contemplate so painful a 
 catastrophe." 
 
 " You turn your sentences charmingly, sir ; 
 and now for your object in carrying me off? " 
 
 " It is my design to conduct you to France, 
 my lord." 
 
 " To France ? " 
 
 " To the court of his French majesty." 
 
 " A prisoner ? " 
 
 " Of state or war, as you choose." 
 
 " Ah ! I begin to understand. You retaliate 
 for the late order of the English admiralty 
 against French civilians I " 
 
 " Precisely, my lord." 
 
 " Then this affair assumes quite another 
 aspect. Your name and rank? you are a 
 French officer ? " 
 
 " I am, my lord. I have assumed the name 
 of Delamere, tut I am a captain in His Maj- 
 esty's navy, and my true name is Edmond 
 Earle." 
 
 The viscount bowed. 
 
 " All this changes things greatly, and no 
 blame whatever attaches to you, sir," he said 
 coldly. " I regarded you, very naturally, as a 
 bandit bent on plunder. I beg you to pardon 
 
108 THE ATTACK AND PURSUIT. 
 
 that injustice, since you are an officer acting in 
 obedience to orders. Thanks for the informa- 
 tion thus communicated. I do not care to 
 know anything further." 
 
 And the viscount relapsed into silence, busy, 
 it seemed, with his own thoughts. 
 
 Earle said no more, and the party proceeded 
 rapidly on their way. Following the road by 
 which they had come, they made the circuit of 
 Oldport ; and then Earle hastened still more, 
 expecting every moment to hear or see some- 
 thing that would give the alarm. Sir Mur- 
 daugh's first thought after the disappearance of 
 the assaliants would undoubtedly be to arouse 
 the country the audacious party might be fol- 
 lowed, and either captured or killed ; all de- 
 pended now upon expedition ; and Earle pressed 
 on at the head of his men toward the spot 
 where the boat had been left. 
 
 Suddenly the beacon light on the headland 
 shot up, and threw its ruddy glare around. 
 
 " What is that, pray ? " said the viscount, 
 coolly. 
 
 " A misfortune, my lord," said Earle ; " at 
 least to us, for it will dissipate the darkness." 
 
 And glancing at the beacon fire he 
 muttered, 
 
THE ATTACK AND PURSUIT. 109 
 
 " Why is that kindled to-night ? " 
 
 He looked up. The appearance of the 
 heavens explained all. Across the sky drifted 
 rapidly black masses of cloud ; and the hoarse 
 roar from the channel indicated that a storm 
 was approaching. Doubtless the solitary had 
 seen that, and kindled her beacon to warn ves- 
 sels off the headland. 
 
 Earle's brows were knit, and he hurried 
 on. 
 
 All at once, from an elevated point on the 
 coast south of Oldport, a piece of artillery 
 sent its long, hoarse thunder 011 the air. 
 
 " There is the alarm, my lord," said Earle. 
 " Sir Murdaugh has not spared horseflesh and, 
 the revenue station has given the alarm." 
 
 " Do you think there is a probability of my 
 rescue, sir ? " said the viscount, with great 
 coolness. 
 
 "None at all, I am pleased to say, my 
 lord." 
 
 " I will pay each one who takes part in 
 rescuing me, a thousand guineas," said the 
 viscount, looking at the sailors. 
 
 Earle laid his hand on his pistol and 
 frowned. 
 
 "Will your lordship be good enough to 
 
110 THE ATTACK AND PURSUIT. 
 
 forbear from further observations of that na- 
 ture ? " he said, sternly, " If my men are 
 tempted again, I will blow out your brains, 
 my lord!" 
 
 The Yiscount inclined his head, with un- 
 moved coolness. 
 
 " You are right " he said ; " it was an indis- 
 cretion under the circumstances ! I will there- 
 fore say no more, but await events." 
 
 " You will do well, my lord. You will now 
 dismount, if you please. "We are near the spot 
 where a boat awaits you. ' 
 
 The viscount dismounted without objection. 
 
 Earle then hastened at the head of his party 
 toward the narrow path along the ledge of 
 rocks, leading to the spot where the boat was 
 awaiting him. 
 
 All at once the noise of hoofs was heard in 
 the direction of Oldport. Lights danced to 
 and fro. The gun had given the alarm. 
 
 " "What noise, pray, is that ? " said the vis- 
 count, quietly. 
 
 "The mounted guard of the revenue 
 station they have ridden w T ell, and seem to 
 be piloted by some one ! " 
 
 " The affair grows interesting ! " said the 
 viscount, walking calmly beside Earle. 
 
THE ATTACK AND PURSUIT. Ill 
 
 1 1 think we'll get off with your lordship ! " 
 was the cool reply. And turning round, 
 
 " Lose not a moment ! " he said to the men ; 
 " the cavalry are on us ! " 
 
 The sudden smiting of hoofs within two 
 hundred yards came like an echo. 
 
 " To the ledge of rocks ! " cried Earle ; " once 
 there we are nearly safe ! " 
 
 The hoof-strokes were silent. 
 
 " Quick ! they are dismounting ! " cried Earle. 
 
 All at once the pursuers were seen passing 
 around a clump of bushes. They were follow- 
 ing on foot about ten men under an officer, 
 and the gigantic plume of fire on the headland 
 showed them their game. 
 
 Earle knit his brows savagely. 
 
 " We will reach the boat or die fighting ! " 
 he said. " Come, my lord ! " 
 
 And he dragged the viscount on. 
 
 "There is, then some hope of my escape?" 
 said the latter, coolly. 
 
 " None ! " was Earle's stern reply. " I shall 
 probably have the great honor of dying with 
 with your lordship ! " 
 
CHAPTER XYII. 
 
 GOLIATH. 
 
 sailor had scarcely uttered these 
 words when a sudden darkness spread 
 itself over the landscape. 
 
 The beacon fire disappeared as though 
 a tempest had extinguished it. Had the wind 
 blown it out, or had the recluse heaped fresh 
 wood upon it in such quantities as to tempora- 
 rily smother the blaze? It was impossible to 
 say, but the light suddenly disappeared. Earle 
 and his party were completly concealed from 
 his pursuers. 
 
 The sailor uttered an exclamation of triumph. 
 " We are saved if the darkness continues ! " 
 he said. 
 
 " The beacon seems extinguished, sir," said 
 the voice of the viscount in the darkness. 
 (112) 
 
GOLIATH. 113 
 
 "Yes, .my lord?" 
 
 " What does it mean? ' 
 
 "Fresh wood or the wind, probably." 
 
 "That is unfortunate." 
 
 "Or fortunate." 
 
 " You are right, sir. We look at things, very 
 naturally, in a different light. This path is 
 extremely narrow." 
 
 " Your lordship runs no danger, holding 
 my ann. Come ! our pursuers are nearly 
 upon us!" 
 
 " The revenue guard ? " 
 
 " Yes, my lord." 
 
 " They are pressing you close, captain. Is 
 it your intention, if I may ask, to blow out 
 my brains rather than lose me ? I ask from 
 mere curiosity ; only to know what is coming." 
 
 u You are a brave man ! " was Earle's re- 
 ply. " No ! a thousand times no ! I am ordered 
 to seize you, not to murder you ! " 
 
 The viscount nodded. 
 
 " You say I am brave I say that you . 
 are an officer and a gentleman. Now I will 
 await the sequel. I have little further so- 
 licitude." 
 
 " And yet you are in very great danger." 
 
 " What ? " 
 8 
 
114 GOLIATH. 
 
 " Your friends may tire on us, and kill you ! " 
 
 As Earle uttered the words a voice cried 
 " Halt ! " and a shot was heard. 
 
 The sailor staggered. 
 
 " You are struck ! " exclaimed the viscount. 
 
 " Yes, my lord and badly hurt, I think. 
 But no matter ! " 
 
 " I swear I regret it ! " 
 
 " Thanks ! " 
 
 " Surrender ! I give you my word of honor 
 you shall be treated as an officer captured on 
 honorable duty." 
 
 " Surrender ? never ! " gasped Earle ; " I will 
 die fighting before I will surrender ! " 
 
 And clutching the arm of the viscount, he 
 dragged him violently toward the boat. 
 
 The pursuers were rushing upon them with 
 loud shouts. The darkness hid them, but the 
 noise of their footsteps on the rocky ledge 
 betrayed them. 
 
 Earle dragged the viscount on. They reach- 
 ed the boat. 
 
 " Make haste ! make haste, Dargonne ! Every 
 instant counts ! " cried Earle. 
 
 And pushing the viscount without cere- 
 mony, 
 
 " Enter the boat, my lord," he said, sternly. 
 
GOLIATH. 115 
 
 " Then I am not to be rescued after all, it 
 seems," was the philosophic reply of the vis- 
 count as he stepped upon the boat. 
 
 The men leaped after him and Dargonne fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 " Come, Captain ! " shouted Dargonne. 
 
 As he spoke, the foremost pursuers rushed 
 on Earle. He felt a hand upon his throat. 
 Then something like a heavy thump was heard 
 in the darkness, and the man who had seized 
 Earle was hurled back as by the blow of a blud- 
 geon. 
 
 A second dull thump followed, and a second 
 was prostrated in the same manner. 
 
 Earle staggered to the boat which had not 
 moved. 
 
 " Put off, and return for me ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Never ! " Dargonne cried. 
 
 " Obey ! " said Earle, imperiously. " It is I 
 who give orders here ! " 
 
 Dargonne bowed his head. Discipline con- 
 quered. He made a sign, and the boat flew a 
 dozen yards from shore. 
 
 " Row, row ! " cried Earle ; " they are about 
 to fire on you ! " 
 
 A volley came like an echo, and one of the 
 oarsmen uttered a cry of pain. 
 
116 GOLIATH. 
 
 " Row ! " cried Earle a second -time ; and the 
 boat darted toward the open sea. 
 
 The sailor turned then to face his enemies, 
 resolved to die as he had promised he would. 
 But suddenly a voice near him said, 
 
 " I have knocked down the foremost ! Run 
 up yonder and you be safe, master ! " 
 
 It was the voice of Goliath, the " wolf." 
 
 "You? "said Earle. 
 
 " I came ahead, thinking it was smugglers, 
 meaning to fight for 'em, master. It be you, 
 which is better. You be a i wolf.' There is 
 the path." 
 
 He spoke hurriedly and pointed to the path 
 leading up the cliff. Suddenly, shouts close at 
 hand indicated that the main body of the pur- 
 suers had reached the spot. Earle had just time 
 to rush behind a rock and up the path when the 
 ledge swarmed with his enemies. 
 
 He hastened on up the steep path. His 
 wound was bleeding profusely, and already his 
 strength was nearly exhausted. 
 
 He tore open the bosom of his shirt, and 
 bound up the wound in the best manner possible. 
 But the linen was almost instantly saturated 
 with blood. 
 
 Earle staggered on. 
 
GOLIATH. 117 
 
 His head began to turn, and more than once 
 he came near falling. 
 
 Still he continued the painful ascent: the 
 strength of his powerful will alone seemed to 
 sustain him. 
 
 At length, he had nearly reached the summit, 
 where stood the hut of the recluse. The path 
 wound around a ledge jutting over the sea. 
 
 As Earle tottered along this path, on the very 
 edge of the dizzy precipice, the beacon fire shot 
 aloft suddenly a great pillar of flame. 
 
 Earle looked seaward. Half a mile from the 
 
 
 
 headland, the boat containing the viscount was 
 seen rapidly making for the open channel. 
 
 " Safe ! " the sailor muttered, " they will soon 
 reach the corvette." 
 
 And he tottered on up the broken pathway, 
 his bosom heaving, his sight failing him. 
 
 A few more steps, and he reached the sum- 
 mit. Before him was the beacon and the hut. 
 The solitary woman was seated on her bench. 
 
 Earle staggered toward her. 
 
 " Mother ! " came from him in a low murmur. 
 
 A moment afterwards he had fallen, lifeless, 
 nearly, upon the bosom of his mother. 
 
PART II. 
 
 THE BLOOD-HOUND 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HUNTED. 
 
 IJSTCE the events just related more than a 
 month had passed. 
 
 Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke was seated 
 in his library at Westbrooke Hall 
 cold, grim, gloomy, and knitting his brows, 
 under which rolled, in their cavernous sockets, 
 the threatening and bloodshot eyes. 
 
 " To think that he should have escaped !" he 
 
 muttered ; " and some day he will reappear 
 
 I feel it and destroy me by uttering one word. 
 
 What devilish accident ever threw him with 
 
 (118) - '- 
 
HUNTED. 119 
 
 that gypsy whom I have been hunting in 
 vain? That vagabond, no doubt, witnessed 
 what took place yonder, while prowling in the 
 woods." 
 
 He half shuddered. 
 
 " I am standing on a volcano ! " he added in 
 the same hoarse growl. " At any instant I may 
 be destroyed. Not by the gypsy : no one would 
 credit the statement of a worthless vagrant 
 against Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke ; but he his 
 statement that is- different. He is bold, deter- 
 mined ; a man of character, and can ruin me if 
 he chooses. He will return hither ; that girl has 
 made him her slave. Oh ! to find him ! to drive 
 a bullet through him ! to seal his lips by pistol 
 or poniard, and at one blow insure my safety, 
 and what is almost as important !" 
 
 He turned round suddenly. Hurried steps 
 were heard in the corridor. He started to his 
 feet, turned pale, and his eye fell upon a brace 
 of pistols lying on the table. 
 
 "Wilde entered, or rather rushed in. 
 
 "You?" 
 
 The baronet drew a long breath. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " 
 
 "Something important, your honor!" ex- 
 claimed the gamekeeper. 
 
120 HUNTED. 
 
 And in hurried words he explaimed the cause 
 of his abrupt entrance. We shall sum up his 
 communication in a few words. Knowing his 
 master's anxiety to ascertain all in reference to 
 Earle and the attack on the hall, he had exerted 
 himself to the utmost in his character of spy 
 and secret emissary. Lurking and listening at 
 the Cat and Bell, and keeping his eyes as well 
 as his ears open, he had managed on this day to 
 ascertain the fact that Earle was wounded on 
 the night of the attack. He had then examined 
 the ground where the embarkation on the boat 
 had taken place; observed the path up the 
 precipice ; ascended it ; concealed himself 
 behind a rock ; seen Earle through the window 
 of the hut, and hastened back to his master with 
 this highly important intelligence. 
 
 It acted like a blow. 
 
 The baronet started to his feet, and ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 " At last ! this removes every danger at 
 once ! " 
 
 " He is a desperate man, sir," said Wilde. 
 " We must take a party with us." 
 
 " Right. I'll send a note to the officer com- 
 manding at the revenue station." 
 
 And sitting down, he hurriedly wrote, 
 
HUNTED. 121 
 
 "Sra, Information has just reached me 
 that the leader of the party who attacked my 
 house some time since, and carried off the Vis- 
 count Cecil, is now lurking on the coast, at a 
 point not far from Oldport. 
 
 " As the attack on my house was a personal 
 grievance, and the abduction of my cousin, the 
 Viscount Cecil, another, I offer to take command 
 of a party to arrest the chief of the bandits. 
 If you approve of this, send the men to West- 
 brooke Hall without delay. Loss of time will 
 probably defeat the object in view." 
 
 This note he signed, sealed, and dispatched by 
 Wilde himself. 
 
 Three hours afterwards the man returned, at 
 the head of half a dozen mounted men. The 
 shades of evening approached. It was the best 
 hour for their .project. Without a word, Sir 
 Murdaugh Westbrooke mounted his horse, and 
 made a sign to Wilde to do likewise. Then 
 they set out, followed by the men, over nearly 
 the same path which Earle and his party had 
 pursued, which enabled them to avoid Oldport. 
 
 Wilde had made this suggestion. 
 
 "Better not pass through the village, sir," 
 he said; " the wolves do not like you, from your 
 
122 HUNTED. 
 
 activity in arresting their friends the smugglers. 
 More than this he is one of them. They 
 made him a wolf in regular form a month or 
 more ago. They will warn him or resist you ; 
 for they are capable of anything." 
 
 " You are right," returned Sir Murdaugh in 
 a low tone ; " lead the way by the safest road. 
 There must be no failure and listen, Wilde ! " 
 
 He sunk his voice still lower. 
 
 " This man must not be arrested ! " 
 
 Wilde returned the meaning glance. 
 
 " He must die ! " 
 
 The man nodded. 
 
 " I understand yon, sir ; better give your 
 orders." 
 
 The party were following a bridle-path 
 through the woods. Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke turned to the men. 
 
 " Let every man pay attention ! " 
 
 All eyes were bent on him. 
 
 " The man we are in pursuit of is a desperate 
 character. If he makes the least resistance, kill 
 him. You will know if he resists by my firing 
 upon him. At that signal, every man aim at his 
 heart ! " 
 
 The men were regular soldiers, and accus- 
 tomed to obey orders without dispute. Their 
 
HUNTED. 123 
 
 heads moved in assent ; and, directing them to 
 follow him at the distance of twenty yards, the 
 baronet rode on with Wilde. 
 
 " This is better, after all," he said in a low 
 tone, with a gloomy and lowering frown ; " this 
 man must die for more reasons than one. He 
 knows what will destroy both yon and me he 
 stands in my way yonder at Maverick House ; 
 and there is still another reason, as I need not 
 tell you, which makes his death necessary." 
 
 He paused a moment, and added in a still 
 lower tone. 
 
 " Let him die, then ! And there is no reason 
 to spare him. lie is an enemy of the country, 
 and has committed burglary and abduction. 
 His life is forfeited to the law. He will hang 
 for what he has done. But before he hangs he 
 will speak, Wilde ! he will speak, do you hear 3 
 And then it is you and I who will mount the 
 gallows after him." 
 
 Wilde's expression of countenance was one of 
 much disgust at this announcement. The word 
 "gallows" seemed to have a sickening effect 
 upon him. lie shuddered. 
 
 ** Your honor is right. There is nothing to 
 do but shoot him down. I have my carbine 
 ready ; and he will not get off." 
 
124 HUNTED. 
 
 "Good!" 
 
 And the baronet rode on in silence. The 
 party made the circuit of Oldport, keeping in the 
 shadow of the woods. Evening gradually drew 
 near, and just at sunset they reached the forest 
 on the slope of the headland, from which it was 
 easy to gain on foot the path leading up* the 
 precipice. 
 
 " Dismount and follow me," said the baronet, 
 addressing the men. 
 
 And they silently dismounted, tethered their 
 horses, and followed the baronet and Wilde. 
 
 The gamekeeper rapidly led the way along 
 the ledge to the spot where the boat had awaited 
 Earle. They did not look out toward the chan- 
 nel upon which the mists of night had descended. 
 Had they done so, they might have perceived a 
 small boat vigorously rowing towards the head- 
 land ; and on the horizon of water, a dusky sail 
 beating up in the same direction. 
 
 Both 'escaped the attention of Wilde and the 
 baronet. 
 
 " It was here that the viscount was brought," 
 said Wilde, " and our man escaped up that path. 
 Better tell the men to be quiet. I will lead 
 the way, your honor. 05 
 
 "Do so." 
 
HUNTED. 125 
 
 He followed Wilde, and was followed in 
 turn by the men. 
 
 As they ascended the steep and dangerous 
 path, the last red beams of the sun died away in 
 the channel mist ; and the moon, a great crim- 
 son wheel, was rolled into the eastern sky above 
 the fringe of the savage looking evergreens on 
 the horizon. 
 
 " Did he go up this path after being wounded ? 
 It is hard to believe that," muttered the baro- 
 net. 
 
 " There is the proof of it," 
 
 And Wilde pointed to blood-stains on a 
 rock. 
 
 " He must have leaned against that rock ; 
 and he went this way, or by some other, as I 
 saw him yonder." 
 
 " Yes, yes ! Come, we are losing time ! " 
 
 And he hastened after Wilde up the danger- 
 ous pathway. 
 
 " Who is this woman with whom he has taken 
 refuge ? " he panted. 
 
 " A strange character ; a sort of solitary." 
 
 " 1 have heard of her." 
 
 " You will see her soon. There is the hut." 
 
 And Wilde pointed to the cabin of the re- 
 cluse. 
 
126 HUNTED. 
 
 In a few minutes they had passed the dizzy 
 ledge near the summit, and just as the last light 
 of day was dying away from the headland, the 
 baronet, at the head of Wilde and the men, 
 rushed upon the hut. 
 
 In a moment they reached it, and the baronet, 
 pistol in hand, threw himself against the door. 
 
 It yielded and new open. The baronet raised 
 his weapon. 
 
 But all at once his arm fell, and he staggered 
 back as though a heavy blow had struck him. By 
 the last light of day, it could be seen that his face 
 had grown livid. Crouching, his mouth half 
 open, and displaying in full relief the hideous 
 tusks at each corner, with eyeballs starting from 
 his head almost, and a cold sweat bursting forth 
 upon his forehead, he was gazing at the solitary 
 woman, who, erect, cold, and with her eyes 
 fixed intently upon him, stood stiffly in the cen- 
 tre of the apartment. 
 
 " You ! " exclaimed the baronet, in a voice 
 nearly stifled by fear or astonishment. " You ! 
 Is it a corpse I see ? You ! Then you are not 
 dead ! " 
 
 " 1 am alive, as you see," returned the recluse, 
 in a cold and unmoved voice. 
 
 Sir Mnrdangli Yfestbrooke recoiled, gazing 
 
HUNTED. 127 
 
 at her with an air of stupefaction. In spite of 
 his self-possession, he trembled. 
 
 " You ! " he repeated. And he drew a long, 
 deep breath, as though something were pressing 
 heavily upon his breast. 
 
 " I, and I alone ! He whom you seek is not 
 here." 
 
 The baronet glanced around. It was utterly 
 impossible that any one could be concealed in 
 the cabin. 
 
 " Good ! " he said. " That matter can wait, 
 then. I see you know on what errand I came. 
 I, in my turn, wish to know how it is that you 
 are alive, and what brings you here ? " 
 
 lie turned to Wilde. 
 
 " Go with the men to their horses. I will 
 soon rejoin you." 
 
 Wilde inclined his head, and went with the 
 party in the direction indicated, only he took a 
 path leading down the slope toward the interior, 
 not that by which they had come. 
 
 " Now for much in a short space," said the 
 baronet, looking sidewise at the woman. 
 
 It was an evil look, and his hand was on his 
 pistol as he spoke. ' 
 
 " Neither of us know how long we may live," 
 added the baronet, with a gastly grin; " and be 
 
128 HUNTED. 
 
 fore we die it will be as well that we should 
 have a short talk together, madam." 
 
 " I listen, Sir Murdaugh AVestbrooke," said 
 the recluse, seating herself composedly. 
 
 " Your manners remain as lofty as ever, I 
 perceive, madam." 
 
 " It is natural, since I am Lady Westbrooke, 
 sir." 
 
 " True, madam," came with an ominous 
 scowl from the baronet, who remained standing. 
 " I had lost sight of or forgotten the fact that 
 you are my wife." 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE BARONET AND THE SOLITARY. 
 
 IIE solitary woman gazed at him with 
 perfect coolness and even with curiosity. 
 " You no doubt regret the fact that I 
 am Lady Westbrooke, sir," she said ; " but 
 that is the truth, nevertheless. It affords me 
 little gratification to claim the title, but I can- 
 not discard it. We meet to-night for the first 
 time for twenty years nearly ; and a bad errand 
 brings you hither. Better that you had not 
 come " 
 
 " And intruded myself upon your ladyship ! 
 Well, perhaps you are right ; but I have little 
 time at present. Answer me : how and when 
 and why did you come to live in this wild 
 spot? ' 
 
 " Many years since." 
 
 9 (129) 
 
130 BARONET AND SOLITARY. 
 
 "Your object?" 
 
 "To prevent yon from committing a great 
 sin." 
 
 " Thanks, madam, for your pious guardian- 
 ship ; but may I beg to be informed what sin 
 you allude to ? " 
 
 " A second marriage during my life the 
 life of your lawful wife," was the calm re- 
 sponse. 
 
 Sir Murdaugh AVestbrooke's countenance as- 
 sumed an expression utterly hideous at these 
 words. 
 
 " Ah ! that is the sin which you kindly pro- 
 pose to prevent me from committing, madam ? " 
 he growled. 
 
 It is." 
 
 " You are a hypocrite ! You came hither 
 with some other object ! " he half shouted. 
 
 This sudden rage brought a defiant flush to 
 the solitary's pale face. 
 
 " You charge me with lying, then ? " she said, 
 coldly. 
 
 " Yes : deception is your element." 
 
 " This to me, from you ! That is wonderful, 
 sir, and well-nigh surpasses belief." 
 
 The words seemed to still further increase 
 the rage of the baronet, and his glance grew 
 
BARONET AND SOLITARY. 131 
 
 terrible. More than once, a sudden clutch on 
 the weapon in his grasp seemed to indicate a 
 mad desire to remove then and there this obsta- 
 cle from his path. 
 
 But his fury had no effect upon the woman : 
 she remained cold and composed. 
 
 "Listen, Sir Murdaugh "Westbrook e," she 
 said. " You charge me with deceiving you, and 
 coming hither with some covert and unworthy 
 object. Do you think my past life an un- 
 happy life supports that idea ? What was 
 that life, and what did you make it? I was 
 a happy girl in the village of Martigny in Nor- 
 mandy, as gay as the roses blooming under our 
 bright French sun, when one day there came to 
 my father's house in the village, a young English- 
 man. Chance brought on this visit, and my 
 wretched beauty they said I was beautiful 
 did the rest. My father, an officer of the navy, 
 was absent, and my old aunt watched over me. 
 You were that young Englishman, sir. You 
 won over my aunt ; you became enamoured of 
 me ; you would have made me your victim, if 
 I had not been too ignorant even to understand 
 your base hints ; and in the end, when you found 
 that I was unassailable, you were mastered by 
 your passion for me you proposed for my 
 
132 BARONET AND SOLITARY. 
 
 Land, and my aunt forced me to marry yon. 
 The ceremony took place : I became Lady 
 Westbrooke." 
 
 The baronet grinned hideously. The yellow 
 teeth protruded like the tusks of a wild boar. 
 
 "You narrate with extreme clearness, mad- 
 am, and recall the happy days of my life. Yes, 
 I, an Englishman of rank, married the daugh- 
 ter of a poor sea-captain. He was lost at sea, 
 nearly at the moment I married you. Thus 
 you were a mere pauper, having nothing beside 
 his pay. Well, what next, madam ? " 
 
 The face of the solitary flushed hot. 
 
 " This it is to be a person of ' rank,' sir ! You 
 taunt a poor woman with her poverty you 
 hint that I was designing, sir. I loathed you 
 at the very .moment, when I placed my hand in 
 yours ; my aunt compelled me to marry you. 
 French girls have no word in these arrange- 
 ments. Yes, my poor father was dead would 
 he had appeared and forbidden the terrible 
 sacrifice I was forced to make." 
 
 A sneer settled on the baronet's face. 
 
 " Well, all this is interesting, madam," he 
 said, " but not very important. Oblige me by 
 coming to the events which brought Lady 
 Westbrooke to this crag on the coast of Wales." 
 
BARONET AND SOLITARY. 133 
 
 " I will gratify your curiosity, sir," the recluse 
 said, coldly, " and tell you everything without 
 reservation. You had married me for my face 
 merely, and six months afterwards were tired 
 of the face. You began to treat me badly 
 wearied of the quiet of the old house in Mar- 
 tigny where we had lived since the day we were 
 united. In the end you began to quarrel ; you 
 treated me cruelly, and laughed in my aunt's 
 face, when she wished you to take me to your 
 own house and acknowledge me publicly as 
 Lady Westbrooke. That enraged my aunt ; but 
 1 had a much greater ground for melancholy. 
 You were a Protestant, I a Catholic. I had 
 thus married a heretic, and the union, in my 
 eyes, was sinful." 
 
 " Which led you, my dear madam, to desert 
 me " 
 
 " Just as you were on the point of deserting 
 me. Yes, sir.? 
 
 " Well, you are right, madam ; I acknowledge 
 that my married life had grown cursedly weari- 
 some. I was thinking of leaving you and your 
 doll face, and had even prepared to do so. It 
 was a coincidence two fond spouses mutually 
 plotting in secret to desert each other." 
 
 The woman preserved a disdainful silence. 
 
134: BARONET AND SOLITARY. 
 
 " Think ! the affair was really comic ! " added 
 the baronet, grinning. " You watching me, 
 and I watching you ; each afraid that the other 
 would discover the secret ; each fearing detec- 
 tion, pursuit, and a renewal of the hateful union, 
 while each in reality thirsted for the separation." 
 
 "Have you finished, sir?" said the recluse, 
 coldly. " If so, I will continue." 
 
 " I have finished, madam," returned the bar- 
 onet, with a bow of mock respect, " and shall be 
 glad to hear the rest of your ladyship's interest- 
 ing narrative." 
 
 " It shall be communicated in few words, sir. 
 You were cruel to me; treated me with con- 
 tempt ; more than once were near striking me ; 
 in addition to which you were a heretic, and I 
 was perilling my soul's salvation by listening in 
 silence to your sneers at our holy church. 
 Then I prayed for guidence from heaven, and 
 something said to me, ' Leave him : he will 
 destroy you.' I accordingly fled from Mar- 
 tigny." 
 
 "And on the very day, that I went in the 
 opposite direction, as I afterwards learned, 
 madam ! " 
 
 A burst of sombre laughter accompanied 
 these words of the baronet. 
 
BARONET AND SOLITARY. 135 
 
 " It is well, sir," was his companion's reply ; 
 "then the sin I committed, if it be a sin, had 
 that palliation at least. I left yon, very mis- 
 erable, but carrying with me some consolation, 
 the child who had come to prove a solace to me 
 in my wretchedness. I went to a distant rela- 
 tive's ; the boy grew and loved me ; he was 
 placed in the marine, became a man, won his 
 way to the command of a ship by his courage 
 and high character ; then I came hither, fearing 
 that you would be led to commit a great sin, 
 the sin of marrying a second time during the 
 life of your lawful wife." 
 
 The baronet grinned. 
 
 "Why not, your ladyship? Intent makes 
 sin ; and I have not sinned in intent ! Did I 
 not believe that you and the boy were lost at 
 sea? That was your device, was it not? You 
 conveyed that intelligence to me ? " 
 
 " I did, sir.' It was a sin ; but committed to 
 avoid a greater one, that of remaining with 
 you; and had you believed me and the boy 
 alive, I feared you would pursue us, and force 
 us back." 
 
 " And destroy your soul's salvation, my pious 
 spouse." 
 
 "Yes; mine and the boy's. I did evil that 
 
136 BARONET AND SOLITARY. 
 
 good might come of it. Yon were a heretic 
 and a vicious man; yon blasphemed our holy 
 church ; had yon forced me to return, I should 
 have been compelled to listen to that daily, 
 and worse still, you would have corrupted and 
 poisoned the heart of the child. So I originated 
 and had conveyed to you that report of our 
 death. Years passed. I had lied to prevent a 
 terrible impiety; but then came the thought, 
 that my pious fraud would lead you to this sin. 
 You thought me dead ; you might marry again ; 
 it was my duty to prevent that. So I came 
 hither and watched you, sir ; not from love, 
 I never loved you, but from a sense of duty. 
 You did not suspect my presence here, but I 
 was near Westbrooke Hall and must have heard 
 of your intended marriage. I have lived poorly ; 
 have waited : but for accident you would not 
 have discovered me." 
 
 The voice was silent. 
 
 " Well, you have related an entertaining his- 
 tory, madam. A misalliance, desertion the soli- 
 tary life of a recluse on a storm-beaten crag, 
 where your only amusement, I am informed, is 
 to build beacon fires, in the intervals of watch- 
 ing over the morals of your dear spouse, what 
 . could be more romantic, more touching, and 
 
BARONET AND SOLITARY. 137 
 
 like the story-books! And may I ask your 
 future intentions^ madam '( " 
 
 " To remain where 1 am and live as I have 
 lived, sir." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 And the baronet's face grew dark. 
 
 "Suppose, in spite of all, I should contract 
 marriage with some second fair one ? " 
 
 " You dare not ! " 
 
 " Ah ! I warn you I am a tolerably daring 
 person, madam ! " 
 
 " You will not marry, because you would 
 thereby commit the legal offence of bigamy. 
 The law of God might not restrain you the 
 law of man would punish you." 
 
 " You round your sentences charmingly, 
 madam ; but I beg to remind your ladyship of 
 one fact, that you are supposed to be dead, 
 and even are such on your own authority. 
 Why, then, should I not marry? Widowers, 
 however sad, marry." 
 
 " You will not marry, for a good reason, 
 sir." 
 
 " What is that, madam, will you please in- 
 form me ? " 
 
 " Because the marriage of Marianne Earle 
 and Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, baronet, is re- 
 
138 BARONET AND SOLITARY. 
 
 corded in the parish register at Martigny, in 
 Normandy ! " 
 
 The baronet started, and turned pale. 
 
 " Fool that I was to forget that ! " he 
 muttered ; " it is incredible how men will 
 blunder!" 
 
 Then looking at his companion sidewise, and 
 with a wary glance, 
 
 " What you say is very true, madam, and I 
 have not the remotest intention of becoming 
 a bigamist," he said. 
 
 A keen glance accompanied the last words. 
 The recluse seemed neither to believe or dis- 
 believe them. 
 
 " And now to end our interesting conversation, 
 madam. You propose to remain here until I 
 marry ? " 
 
 Or I die." 
 
 " That would be sad ; and as a Catholic you 
 would doubtless confess yourself to a priest \ " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Revealing your true name ? " 
 
 " My name and whole life." 
 
 " So that if I should unfortunately be married, 
 my marriage would be shown to be illegal ? " 
 
 "Yes." * 
 
 " It is well," he said, with the spirit of mur- 
 
BARONET AND. SOLITARY. 139 
 
 der in his low voice ; " and now for a last point. 
 Where is that boy ? " 
 
 The recluse looked intently at him. 
 
 "Be at rest you mean him mischief, un- 
 natural father ! but he ?n beyond your reach." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " I will not reply I " 
 
 " Beware how you defy me ! " he said, ad- 
 vancing a step toward her. 
 
 " I fear you not ! " 
 
 " Answer ! " 
 
 " I will not ! " 
 
 He seized her wrists furiously. 
 
 'Keply! or !" 
 
 "Kill me, if you please!" said the woman, 
 coldly, and exhibiting no signs of pain. " Do 
 you think I value my life? I despise your 
 threats and violence, and will tell you nothing, 
 though you murder me ! " 
 
 She wrenched her hands from him. 
 
 " Go ! " she said, rising to her full height ; 
 "the boy has never wronged you. It is I, if 
 any one, who should suffer." 
 
 " And I swear you shall ! " howled the bar- 
 onet ; " at present I have that to attend to. I 
 will not give up the search yet. I go now, 
 but beware of me when I return ! " 
 
140 BARONET AND SOLITARY. 
 
 "With these words he hastened from the hut, 
 and rapidly descended the path taken by Wilde 
 and the men. 
 
 In ten minutes, such was his haste, he reached 
 the clump of trees in which they waited .beside 
 their horses. 
 
 "Mount ! " he ordered. 
 
 The men threw themselves into the saddle. 
 
 The baronet and Wilde rode in front, at full 
 gallop. 
 
 " lie is at Maverick House ! " said the former, 
 hoarsely ; " and to-night may end that matter, 
 Wilde. But I have other work for you ! Be 
 ready to set out for France at daylight." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " You were at Martigny with me you re- 
 member ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, listen now to my instructions, and see 
 that you, obey them to the letter. If you suc- 
 ceed a thousand pounds sterling ! If you fail, 
 find some other master. Now listen ! " 
 
 And in rapid words he gave the man his in- 
 structions as they went on at full gallop. 
 
 As the baronet ended, Maverick House glim- 
 mered before them in the moonlight a quarter 
 of a mile distant. 
 
BARONET AND SOLITARY.. 141 
 
 " The time is near ! " he said ; " no faltering 
 Wilde ! this man must die ! " 
 
 And turning to the men, 
 
 " The desperado we are in search of is here ! " 
 he said, " and ready to resist. At the signal 
 from me, fire on him ! Shoot him down a 
 hundred guineas to the man whn ViHo i^' t 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 WHAT ONE WOMAN IS CAPABLE OF TOWARD 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 hour or two before, Ellinor and Rose 
 Maverick had issued forth, and strolled 
 over the russet lawn, to enjoy the mild and 
 caressing airs of the autumn evening. 
 It was what is called " St. Martin's Summer." 
 The breeze was soft, and fanned their foreheads 
 like the zephyrs of spring. The cutting blasts 
 had not whirled the brown leaves from the 
 trees. The year was going to his death in his 
 trappings of golden sunsets ; mists curled 
 around the headlands ; the moonlight, mixing 
 with the orange tint in the west, slept serenely 
 on the charming landscape. 
 
 The two girls had wandered some distance in 
 the shrubbery. 
 
 (142) 
 
TWO WOMEN. 143 
 
 The superb beauty of Ellinor was unchanged. 
 Her dark eyes sparkled with satirical wit, her 
 lips curled with irony, and the magnetic glances 
 kept for the male sex had given way to an ex- 
 pression best described as " spiteful." 
 
 Hose was much altered. The delicate carna- 
 tion of her cheeks had disappeared. She walk- 
 ed over the russet turf with slow and languid 
 steps. It was the pale flower of autumn beside 
 the dazzling rose of summer, and the summer 
 flower seemed to be amusing herself at the ex- 
 pense of the autumn primrose. 
 
 " What a very romantic affair ! "Who would 
 ever have believed it \ " said Ellinor, satirically. 
 " The elegant and high-born Miss Rose Maver- 
 ick in a love-sick condition about an unknown 
 adventurer ! " 
 
 Hose turned her head impatiently, and a 
 slight color came to Her pale cheeks. 
 
 " I have already told you, Ellinor, that it was 
 unpleasant to me to be spoken to in that man- 
 ner," she said. 
 
 " I don't believe it ! " was the reply. It is not 
 unpleasant, my quiet little cousin ! You are 
 proud of your romance. Come, confess! are 
 you ashamed of your well, of your friend- 
 ship for the handsome Mr. Delamere ? " 
 
144 TWO WOMEN. 
 
 " I am not," said Rose, firmly. " He saved 
 my life, as he did yours. "We owe him friend- 
 ship, at least " 
 
 " And love ? Ah ! you wince, my pretty 
 cousin. Your blushes betray you." 
 
 Rose Maverick di#w herself up with some 
 hauteur, but made no reply. 
 
 " Oh ! there is your fine air again, my Lady 
 Disdain ! " snarled the fair Ellinor. " If you 
 are not in love with him, why have you drooped 
 like a flower when the frost comes, ever since 
 that night when he disappeared so mysteri- 
 ously ? Before, your spirits were excellent, and 
 1 think the goody old people, if not the men, 
 liked you much better than they liked me, pre- 
 ferring your "sweet smile, full of native good- 
 ness," one of them said, I remember, " to my 
 brilliant glances." Well, where is the sweet 
 smile ? Why do you sit for hours in sad mu- 
 sings ? Why have you lost all interest in your 
 flowers, and even forgot to feed your linnet 
 yesterday? I reply that you are in love in 
 love with the interesting unknown ! " 
 
 Rose had turned with an offended air to 
 re-enter the house. 
 
 Ellinor followed, goading and snapping at 
 her. 
 
TWO WOMEN. 145 
 
 " Deny it, if you dare, my romantic cousin ! " 
 she said. 
 
 Rose made no reply. She walked quietly to- 
 ward the house, her companion beside her, and 
 laughing maliciously. 
 
 " Now you really ought to have taken pattern 
 by my insignificant self," went on her torment- 
 or. " The late interesting Mr. Delamere had 
 the bad taste to prefer me to you. I am penni- 
 less, only a poor girl, but lie honored me by his 
 attentions ; in spite of which I remained quite 
 heart-whole and not in the least romantic about 
 the handsome stranger. Oh, he said a number 
 of things to me ! Did I never tell you that be- 
 fore ? He looked at me in such a way ! He 
 told me at last but here I am becoming in- 
 discreet. If he did not kiss my shoes, and lay 
 his neck down for me to place my foot upon, it 
 was only because he saw that T was too proper 
 a young lady to encourage a strange adven- 
 turer ! There is the blush again, and this time 
 it is an angry blush. Very well, but this is 
 true. He would have knelt down quickly 
 enough, if he had hoped I would raise him up 
 in my arms ! And what he did do was some- 
 thing! He " 
 
 " I am weary of all this," said Rose, stung to 
 10 
 
14:6 TWO WOMEN. 
 
 the quick. " I wonder you take such pains to 
 prove that you are heartless, Ellinor. You are 
 witty and brilliant, you think. Other persons 
 would call your wit ill-temper." 
 
 The words went home and aroused in the 
 ironical Ellinor a good old-fashioned tit of pure 
 anger. 
 
 " Ah, there you are, my fine cousin ! " she 
 cried. " You treat me, as usual, to moral and 
 scriptural abuse. Thank your ladyship ! But 
 'tis enough for the present. I'll go home now 
 and hear the rest of the sermon on another oc- 
 casion. Thank you ! I am ' ill-tempered ' ! 
 Oh, yes ! And all because I refer to what 
 everybody is speaking of ! I say what every- 
 body is speaking of, madam! your lovesick 
 state of mind all about this unknown stranger, 
 Mr. Delamere ! The very neighbors laugh at 
 it ! You have no pride, they say. They won- 
 der, as your family wonder, that you should 
 thus honor a person of unknown position and 
 blood, that ever since he disappeared in that 
 mysterious, and, I must say, very suspicious 
 manner, you should have mourned him and 
 cried about him, and loved the very chair he 
 sat in ! That is all I have to say, madam ! < Ill- 
 tempered ' ! " 
 
TWO WOMEN. 147 
 
 And the fair Ellinor tossed her head in su- 
 perb wrath. 
 
 " I'd like to know what I have said to expose 
 myself to that insult!" she added, "ail- 
 tempered ' ! and all because I laugh at your 
 infatuation about an adventurer ! " 
 
 "Mr. Delamere was not an adventurer!" 
 was Rose's cold response. 
 
 " What, then, was he ? this charming stranger, 
 whose amateur fishing excursions terminated so 
 mysteriously, and so very suspiciously." 
 
 " I see no mystery and no ground for suspic- 
 ion in his disappearance," was Hose Maverick's 
 response. " You know as well as 1 do, Ellinor, 
 that he has been missing since the night of the 
 attack on Westbrooke Hall, when the Yiscount 
 Cecil was carried off. It is nearly certain now, 
 as you know equally well, that this attack was 
 made by a party of Frenchmen from a vessel, 
 in the channel, and that their object was to ab- 
 duct persons of rank to hold as hostages." 
 
 " Pray what has that to do with it, if I may 
 address a question without offence to your 
 ladyship?" 
 
 " Simply this. Mr. Delamere was returning 
 from his visit here to Oldport, on the night of 
 the attack. On the next morning he had dis- 
 
148 TWO WOMEN. 
 
 appeared, and his horse was found grazing in the 
 fields. Nothing further is known ; but it is cer- 
 tainly reasonable to suppose that he too was car- 
 ried off, since his dress, demeanor, and all 
 connected with him, you will not deny, indi- 
 cated that he was a gentleman. As such he 
 was worth attention. He was seen no more. 
 Is it so improbable that the French people cap- 
 tured him?" 
 
 "A fine theory, indeed ! " 
 
 " It is at least more charitable than to con- 
 clude that he was an adventurer and disappeared 
 as he came, "mysteriously." 
 
 " You defend your protege well, madam." 
 
 " I take the part of the absent, who are de- 
 famed." 
 
 " And the absent thanks you ! " said a voice 
 in the shrubbery, very near them. 
 
 The young ladies recoiled, and uttering ex- 
 clamations, gazed with affright toward the 
 shadow. 
 
 A figure wrapped in a cloak advanced. The 
 face was pale, thin, and worn, but resolute and 
 stern. 
 
 It was Earle. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE SAILOR AND HIS SHIP. 
 
 SUDDEN and unexpected event was the 
 
 occasion of Earle's presence at Maverick 
 
 House. 
 
 He had remained prostrate on a couch 
 of illness for weeks after the night of the attack 
 on Westbrooke Hall the recluse watching 
 over him in the solitary hut with deep solici- 
 tude and tenderness. 
 
 At last the wound in his shoulder had healed. 
 He had left his sick bed. The fresh breeze 
 of the ocean infused new life into his frame ; 
 and seated for hours on the bench in front of 
 the rude cabin on the great headland, he had 
 looked through his glass out on the channel and 
 along the coast. 
 
 Where was the corvette? he asked himself. 
 
 (149) 
 
150 THE SAILOR AND HIS SHIP. 
 
 AVhat had become of his beloved craft ? The 
 sailor loves his ship, and the fate of the corvette 
 was ever on Earle's mind. Had she arrived 
 safely with her prize, the viscount, or had she 
 been chased and captured by some English 
 frigate ? "Was she riding in pride, or sunk 
 fathoms deep beneath the waves of St. George's 
 Channel \ 
 
 He had been seated in his customary seat on 
 that morning, gazing through his glass and 
 asking himself these questions, when all at once 
 the recluse saw him rise to his feet, and heard 
 him utter an exclamation, almost a cry, of joy. 
 
 The corvette was visible in the offing ! There 
 was no mistaking the object of his pride and 
 affection! The eye of the sailor knows his 
 craft, as the eye of the lover knows his mistress. 
 There was the corvette slowly beating up 
 toward the coast of Pembrokeshire ; and as his 
 mother hastened to his side, Earle pointed the 
 vessel out and exclaimed, 
 
 " There she is, mother !" 
 
 " Your ship, my son ? " said the poor recluse, 
 not sharing his joy. 
 
 " Yes, yes, mother ! My own corvette ! 
 coming to rescue her commander." 
 
 " Then you will leave me ? " 
 
THE SAILOR AND HIS SHIP. 151 
 
 He turned toward her, and looked at her with 
 great tenderness. 
 
 " See how strong the sailor spirit is in me : 
 I had not thought of that," he said. 
 
 " While I think first of it. You go, and I 
 shall be alone again." 
 
 Her voice was full of melancholy, and the 
 sailor's joy was dimmed. 
 
 " Come with me, my mother. Leave this 
 wild and lonely spot. Your native Normandy 
 is brighter than this land ; come ! Nothing 
 there shall ever part us." 
 
 " You say Normandy : how do you know 
 that ISTormandy is my birthplace?" said the 
 recluse, suddenly. 
 
 " From your missal, mother, the little book 
 you pray from. I found it on the table near 
 my sick couch, and opened it. On the first 
 leaf is written, l Marianne Earle, Martigriy, Nor- 
 mandy.' " 
 
 The recluse was silent. 
 
 " Until now I had thought you a native of the 
 South, mother, where^ we always lived ; but you 
 never told me any thing. There will be time, 
 to discuss all this, however. Now time is want- 
 ing. See ! look through my glass. There is a 
 man ; it is Dargonne, on the deck of the cor- 
 
152 THE SAILOR AND HIS SHIP. 
 
 vette. He has his glass, and is looking for me. 
 lie waves his handkerchief, and I reply." 
 - Earle waved his own handkerchief. 
 
 " You see, mother ! Get ready to come with 
 me." 
 
 " I cannot." 
 
 " Why not \ " 
 
 " I must remain here. Do not ask me why, 
 my son." 
 
 " And we shall part ! " 
 
 " It breaks my heart, hut I must remain, Ed- 
 mond. Ask me not why." 
 
 " Enough, my mother ; I will say no more. 
 "Women like yourself never yield. I must go ; 
 but I will return. My duty calls me now, but 
 we shall still love each other. See ! the signal 
 flags are run up. I read them as I read print." 
 
 "What do they say?" 
 
 Earle looked through his glass, and repeated 
 slowly as the fluttering signal flags syllabled the 
 message, 
 
 "Be at the old place to-night." 
 
 " The recluse sank upon the bench. 
 
 " Then it is ended all my happiness at see- 
 ing you near me, my child," she murmured. 
 
 And looking at him, she said to herself in a 
 low voice, 
 
THE SAILOR AND HIS SHIP. 153 
 
 " lie does not hear me ; lie is looking at his 
 vessel, waving liis handkerchief. That means 
 that he will be punctual. Oh ! why do we love 
 in this world? Why do we become wrapped 
 up in human beings until we are unhappy with- 
 out them ? Then they go we are alone our 
 very love works our woe. Alas! my child is 
 going to leave me, and I will be alone." 
 
 Earle turned toward her, joyously. 
 
 " See ! she understands my signal, mother. 
 She has tacked about, content is making for 
 the coast of Ireland but she will be here 
 without fail, again, to-night ! " 
 
CHAPTER Y. 
 
 EABLE'S DESIGN. 
 
 S evening approached, Earle dressed him- 
 self in his full uniform of a captain in 
 the French navy, buckled on his belt and 
 pistols, and, wrapping his cloak around 
 him, turned to the recluse. 
 
 "I am going to be absent for an hour, my 
 mother," he said. "A last duty makes this 
 necessary. Be not afraid : I will soon return, 
 and then I will renew my persuasions to induce 
 you to embark with me for France. Reflect that 
 it will make me very .happy, mother; and the 
 good God watch over you." 
 
 He left the hut. The recluse had made no 
 response. Bending down and weeping silently, 
 she presented an appearance of the deepest de- 
 jection. 
 
 (154) 
 
EARLESS DESIGN. 155 
 
 Earle threw a last tender glance toward her, 
 and disappeared in the dusk of evening. 
 
 He followed the path leading down the head- 
 land, in the direction of Maverick House ; and 
 just as Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, with his 
 part} 7 , left "Westbrooke Hall in pursuit of him, 
 entered the Maverick woods, half a league from 
 the mansion. 
 
 As he went on with firm tread, and an ex- 
 pression of stern resolution upon his features, he 
 muttered to himself,- 
 
 " Yes : this is a duty, and I will not leave the 
 country without performing it. Chance has 
 placed me in possession of a secret intimately 
 concerning Arthur Maverick, the man who has 
 called me friend, and his household ; a mur- 
 derer is about to enter that household as the 
 husband of one of the family whose head he 
 has assassinated. I alone, besides the gypsy, 
 who has disappeared, can warn the victim. I 
 swear I will do so, and from a sense of duty, 
 not in the least from a mean jealousy ; and then, 
 if the marriage takes place, let it take place." 
 
 He went on rapidly. Pale and thin as he 
 was, it w r as evident that his physical vigor was 
 nearly unabated. 
 
 "Jealousy!" he muttered as he proceeded 
 
156 EARLESS DESIGN. 
 
 beneath the huge boughs, toward Maverick 
 House, " jealousy ! oh, no ! I swear that I am 
 not in the least jealous. The love I had for 
 that woman is dead. She made me crazy for a 
 time; but I have become sane. I can see now 
 thanks to the hours of meditation and recollec- 
 on my sick couch that she is false, acted a 
 part with me, lured me on to gratify a poor 
 sentiment of vanity; and when she had en- 
 trapped me, and driven me to an avowal, threw 
 me away without a thought or care for me. 
 
 "Fool that I was to imagine that the poor 
 stranger could compete with the rich baronet in 
 madam's eyes. Fool, above all, to give my love 
 to a thing of deception, false as the sea. As 
 the sea? I do it wrong. It is changeable 
 and dangerous, but makes no protestations. 
 You embark on it with a knowledge of its 
 perils. This woman's glance and smile said, 
 ' There is no danger with me.' They fooled me. 
 I was her slave. I am free now ; and I am not 
 jealous. Were she to hold out her hand now, I 
 would not take it, for I know her. Fool ! to pass 
 by that pure flower, Arthur Maverick's sister, 
 and bestow my love upon this quicksand, Arthur 
 Maverick's cousin. But it is over all that 
 madness. I care not if she marry the assassin 
 
EARLESS DESIGN. 157 
 
 and monster. It is to save Arthur Maverick, 
 my friend, that I go to warn him, and to speak 
 in my own name and character. There is the 
 house, here is the wall : in ten minutes I shall 
 be there." 
 
 As he spoke, rapid steps were heard on the 
 path behind him, and he turned round. 
 
 Through the dim light a man was seen run- 
 ning towards him, and he drew his pistol. 
 
 " Don't shoot, brother. I arn a friend ! " 
 said the pursuer. 
 
 And the gypsy reached him. 
 
 " Take care, brother ! " he said ; " Sir Mur- 
 daugh Westbrooke is on your track ! " 
 
CHAPTEE YL 
 
 THE WITNESS. 
 
 '' ARLE gazed at the gypsy without exhibit- 
 ing the least emotion at these words. 
 
 " How do you know that ? " he said. 
 " But first tell me where you have been 3 ' 
 " I have been yonder in the woods, in the 
 great ravine beyond Maverick House. On the 
 night of the attack on "Westbrooke Hall, I went 
 with you as far as the ledge on the sea shore. 
 There my heart failed me. I heard the shouts 
 of the revenue guard. I was a coward, and 
 glided into the darkness." 
 
 " You did well. I have been wounded ; but 
 that is no matter. You say I am pursued ? " 
 
 " Yes, brother. I was at the revenue station 
 to-day, offering to tell fortunes. As I was tell- 
 ing that of the young officer in command, the 
 
 (158) 
 
THE WITNESS. 159 
 
 man "Wilde rode up hastily. He brought a 
 note. The officer read it half aloud, and I 
 heard it. It was from Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke, and asked for a party of men to arrest 
 you. You were lurking at a place on the coast 
 near the village of Oldport." 
 
 "Ah ! he has found out that ? And the men 
 were sent ? " 
 
 " Yes, brother. They were ordered out im- 
 mediately. Then I left in a hurry, and began 
 to run toward Oldport. As I went, I thought 
 of the hut on the headland, where the solitary 
 woman lives. You might be there, and I went 
 up the steep cliff by a path I found. You were 
 gone ; the woman said, had followed the path 
 toward Maverick House. I ran after you, and 
 here I am. The baronet is probably on your 
 track too." 
 
 Earle nodded coolly. 
 
 " It is well," he said. 
 
 He looked keenly at the gypsy, as though to 
 read him through. The look seemed to be un- 
 derstood by the vagabond. His face flushed, 
 and he said, 
 
 " You don't doubt me, brother? " 
 
 " No," said Earle, extending his hand ; " but 
 this deep interest you show in a stranger " 
 
160 THE WITNESS. 
 
 
 
 " You are no stranger, brother. You are one 
 of the Rommanye Rye. But there is more to 
 make me your friend. You have been kind to 
 me. You have not despised me. All the world 
 despises the gypsies. They are vagabonds and 
 thieves! At their appearance, the housewife 
 takes in her linen from the hedge. When they 
 camp in the woods near a homestead, the farmer 
 looks to his sheep and pigs. They are outcasts ; 
 all curse them ! I am one of them, and you 
 have been kind, not cruel. You are a gentle- 
 man, and have touched my hand and called the 
 poor gypsy ' brother.' That has moved him ; 
 he is your friend. 1 swear to watch over and 
 obey you, brother ! " 
 
 Earle saw that the speaker was in earnest, and 
 suddenly the thought came, " Here is the wit- 
 ness to the murder." 
 
 "You will do what I ask of you, then, 
 brother ? " he said. 
 
 " I swear it ; order me. I am yours ! " 
 
 " Then follow me. I am going to reveal 
 the murderer of Giles Maverick to his son 
 Arthur. .Remain concealed in the shadow 
 of the trees near the house. When I call you, 
 come quickly. See, we are near now. Here is 
 the wall ! " 
 
THE WITNESS. 161 
 
 - 
 
 They leaped into the park, and rapidly ap- 
 proached the house. 
 
 "Eemain here!" said Earle, pointing to a 
 spot in the shrubbery ; " and when you hear me 
 blow on my sailor's whistle, come quickly, and 
 give your testimony." 
 
 The gypsy made a sign of obedience. 
 
 " I will lose no time, brother ; and I advise 
 you to hasten. The baronet will not find you 
 on the coast, and will come straight here. I 
 warn you." 
 
 " Let him come ! " 
 
 And Earle rapidly 'made his way toward the 
 mansion. 
 
 Suddenly he heard the sound of voices, and 
 Rose and Ellinor passed in the moonlight. He 
 clearly distinguished what was said; heard the 
 taunts of Ellinor, the charge of loving him, 
 which she brought against her cousin ; and 
 heard, too, the"" defence made of him by Rose. 
 
 A moment afterward he stood before them. 
 11 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE DENUNCIATION. 
 
 wrapped his cloak around him so 
 as to conceal his uniform, and bowing 
 low to Rose, said, in his deep voice, 
 
 " Once more I thank you, madam. 
 You defend me. The attack is strange 1 " 
 He turned to Ellinor. 
 
 " I loved you once, or thought I did," he 
 said, coolly. " I love you no longer have 
 ceased for more than a month to care aught for 
 you. I shall see you no more before I go I 
 undeceive you on that point, if you have 
 deceived yourself.",, 
 
 Ellinor Maverick blushed crimson at the stern 
 and almost contemptuous words of the sailor. 
 Her pride was cruelly mortified, and anger 
 followed her eyes darted lightnings. 
 (162) 
 
THE DENUNCIATION. 163 
 
 Before she could speak, however, Earle had 
 turned his back upon her. He went to meet 
 Arthur Maverick, who, startled by the exclama- 
 tions of the ladies at Earle's appearance, 
 had hurried out to ascertain the- cause of 
 their agitation. 
 
 " In good time ! " said Earle ; " it is you 
 whom I come to see." 
 
 " Mr. Dclamere \ Is it possible that you are 
 alive, and not a prisoner either ? We thought 
 you had been captured." 
 
 " I will explain all, some day," was Earle's 
 reply ; " now there is no time. I came not to 
 explain this disapearance, but a much more 
 mysterious affair. My explanation must be 
 brief, the meaning of which statement you 
 willl soon discover, friend." 
 
 " Your words astound me ! " 
 
 " I am about . to astound you far more. The 
 object of my hurried visit to-night is to reveal 
 to you what I should have revealed long since." 
 
 "To reveal what?" 
 
 " The murderer of your father ! " 
 
 Arthur Maverick started, and almost recoiled. 
 
 "You know the mystery of that terrible 
 affair?" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
164 THE DENUNCIATION. 
 
 " Good heavens, Mr. Delamere ! Speak ! 
 "What frightful intelligence have you to com- 
 municate ? " 
 
 " Intelligence truly frightful ! for it reveals a 
 depravity almost incredible. Tell me, friend, 
 you are that to me, what think you of love and 
 murder mingled ? What would you say if I told 
 you that your father's murderer aspires to an al- 
 liance with one of your own family ! What if 
 the man whose hands reek with the blood of the 
 uncle, comes to ask the hand of the niece, hopes 
 to make Miss Ellinor Maverick his wife ? " 
 
 Arthur gazed at the speaker with distended 
 eyes. 
 
 Ellinor Maverick, as pale as death, now, 
 seemed about to faint. 
 
 "You would say you surely do not 
 mean 1 " Arthur said in a low and agitated 
 voice. > 
 
 " I mean that Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, of 
 Westbrooke Hall, is the murderer of Giles Mav- 
 erick, your father ! " 
 
 For a moment a deep silence reigned through- 
 out the entire group. The \vbrds seemed to 
 paralyze the listeners, and to deprive them of 
 the power of utterance. 
 
 The first person who spoke was Ellinor Mav- 
 
THE DENUNCIATION. 165 
 
 erick. She sprang forward with the fury of a 
 tigress. 
 
 "Who are you, sir?" she cried, white with 
 rage, " who bring this accusation ? who are you 
 the unknown adventurer who dare to assault 
 the character of a gentleman of rank ? Speak ! 
 I will defend Sir Murdaugh, if my cousin is too 
 cowardly to do so!" 
 
 Earle bowed with ironical ceremony. 
 
 " I compliment you, madam, upon yotfr chiv- 
 alric defence of the absent. It seems, then, that 
 you can defend as well as attack those who are 
 not present to take their own parts ! " 
 
 " Answer ! no evasion ! No trick to avoid a 
 reply to my question!" exclaimed the young 
 lady, stung to wild fury. 
 
 " Your question, madam ? " 
 
 "Who are you, I demand, who sneak here to 
 destroy a gentleman's character ? " 
 
 Earle threw back his cloak, and revealed his 
 full uniform of a French captain. 
 
 " I am Edmond Earle, of the French navy ; 
 an enemy, but an officer and a gentleman ! I 
 came to avow that; you hasten the avowal. 
 Yes," he said, turning to the astonished Arthur, 
 " I am not Mr. Delamere, but Captain Earle. I 
 
166 THE DENUNCIATION. 
 
 have assumed a part it was repugnant, but 
 it was done in compliance with orders. French 
 civilians were seized on the French coast I 
 came to seize English civilians on the English 
 coast ! It was I who attacked Westbrooke Hall 
 and, carried off the Viscount Cecil, it was I who 
 was pursued and wounded on the sea-shore. I 
 have remained here since that time ; my ship 
 has returned for me, and the boat is now wait- 
 ing; but I have come here, risking my life, 
 you see, with a mounted party on my track, 
 to say, ' Thanks for your hospitality friends ! 
 I never betrayed that. Before I go, I per- 
 form a duty ; act as your best friend would 
 act reveal the fact that a murderer, the 
 murderer of your own father, is about to enter 
 your family as the husband of a member of that 
 family.' " 
 
 Arthur Maverick looked and listened with 
 stupefaction. Words seemed to fail him. 
 
 " The avowal of my real character is danger- 
 ous, perhaps," said Earle ; " but I swore I would 
 make it. I am a French officer, and politically 
 your enemy ; but personally, my heart beats 
 with earnest affection for you. Do not remem- 
 ber that I am an enemy think one your 
 
THE DENUNCIATION. 167 
 
 friend. There is little time left. Let me 
 hasten and prove my charges." 
 
 He made the signal agreed upon, and the 
 gypsy appeared quickly. 
 
 " This man is a vagabond, and you may not 
 credit him," said Earle ; " but listen to his story 
 first, and form your opinion." 
 
 At a sign from Earle the gypsy rapidly 
 narrated the scene at the pool in the forest, 
 more than five years before. As he painted in 
 vivid colors the sombre event which he had 
 witnessed, the meeting of the enemies, the 
 apparently friendly greeting, the sudden stab, 
 the dog leaping at the murderer's throat, and 
 the murdered man beaten with fragments 
 of rock, and his body dragged to and sunken in 
 the pool, as this terrible scene was depicted in 
 the forcible words of the gypsy, Arthur Mave- 
 rick shuddered, and his face assumed the ashy 
 hue of a corpse. 
 
 " You do not believe that, perhaps," said Earle, 
 as the gypsy terminated his narrative. "You 
 may say that I am the rejected suitor of Miss 
 Maverick, and have suborned this man to perjure 
 himself, in order to ruin my rival. So be it ! 
 form that theory, and try this narrative by the 
 
168 THE DENUNCIATION. 
 
 strongest test. Believe nothing until it is ac- 
 counted for upon reasonable grounds ; and first, 
 was there no reason why Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke should hate your father ? " 
 
 " I know of none," said Arthur Maverick in 
 a stifled voice. 
 
 "/am better informed ! " 
 
 "You?" 
 
 " Your father bound and lashed the baronet 
 as men lash a dog ! Were you too young to 
 know that fact ? Interrogate your memory." 
 
 " Good heavens ! ' And it was my father, then, 
 who committed that terrible outrage, with which 
 the whole country rang ! Is it possible ? and 
 yet, it is incredible, but " 
 /"Had they not quarreled?" 
 
 " Yes, yes ! I now recall old stones of a vio- 
 lent scene between them. They were on a race- 
 course ; had an altercation ; my father gave Sir 
 Murdaugh the lie, and the baronet struck him 
 with his riding-whip. Before he could repeat 
 the blow, the bystanders interposed and forced 
 Sir Murdaugh from the ground ! " 
 
 " That is enough," said Earle, coolly ; " and the 
 chain of motive is perfect. Your father quar- 
 rels with the baronet, the baronet inflicts a terri- 
 
THE DENUNCIATION. 
 
 169 
 
 blc indignity upon Mr. Maverick ; the result is 
 that your father returns the insult in kind by 
 binding and lashing his adversary; and the 
 fifth act of the drama is the murder of your 
 father by that adversary." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE BLOOD-HOUND. 
 
 RTHUR Maverick's eyes were fixed 
 upon the ground. His expression of 
 horror and astonishment began to give 
 place to a gloomy rage. 
 " Then, if this be true, I have welcomed and 
 touched the hand of my father's murderer I 1 " 
 he muttered. 
 
 Before Earle could reply, Ellinor Maverick 
 bounded toward them. ^ 
 
 White with fury, chiefly from the undisguised 
 contempt of her former lover, she caught 
 Arthur by the arm, almost shook him in her 
 rage, and half hissed through her closed set 
 teeth, 
 
 " Do you believe that spy and liar ? " 
 (170) 
 
THE BLOOD-HOUND. 171 
 
 Arthur Maverick drew back and extricated 
 his arm from her grasp. 
 
 "Permit me to manage my own affairs 
 madam, and believe or disbelieve as seems good 
 to me," he said, coldly. 
 
 " Believe as you will, then ! " was the furious 
 response ; " disgrace your name if you will, by 
 giving credit to this convicted spy and adven- 
 turer! But you shall not poison my mind 
 against " 
 
 "Your uncle's murderer, madam? As you 
 will that is your affair. I arrogate no au- 
 thority over you. But listen to me. I am the 
 head of the house of Maverick in Pembrokshire ; 
 my father was murdered ; a man is charged with 
 the murder. I will pursue the inquiry to the 
 last limits. If true,' the guilty shall suffer. If 
 untrue, the innocent will be vindicated. Does 
 that suit your views, madam 2 If not, the fact 
 will not move me." 
 
 Ellin or was carried away by her rage. 
 
 " I say the very idea is an insult ! " 
 
 " So be it, madam. People will be insulted, 
 then." 
 
 " It is an outrage a thing unheard of, that 
 this unknown adventurer, this man who dared 
 to pay his addresses to me, whom I spurned 
 
172 THE BLOOD-HOUND. 
 
 and laughed at, and ordered to leave my pres- 
 ence, it is infamous that on his testimony a 
 gentleman of rank and character should be 
 suspected ! " 
 
 " She fights hard for her rich suitor ! " mut- 
 tered Earle, with stern irony. 
 
 And then raising his voice, 
 
 "May I call your attention to one fact, 
 madam ? " he said, coldly : " I have no testimony 
 to give." 
 
 " You have paid this vulgar wretch to blacken 
 Sir Murdaugh ! " 
 
 " I am too poor, madam ! " 
 
 He made her a mock inclination, and spoke 
 with an accent of such contempt that the lady 
 shuddered with rage, and with difficulty re- 
 frained from springing at him. 
 
 " To end this scene," said Earle, returning 
 to his gloomy tone, full of sternness and cold 
 resolution : " I expected this reception I 
 was thus prepared for it, and it does not 
 move me. I had my duty to perform, and 
 have performed it, at some risk, too," he said 
 to Arthur Maverick. " Do you doubt that ? 
 Listen!" 
 
 He raised his finger, arid there was dead 
 silence for a monent. 
 
THE BLOOD-HOUND. 173 
 
 In the midst of this silence rapid hoof -strokes 
 were heard on the road leading to the great 
 gate. 
 
 " Do you hear ? " said Earle, coolly. 
 
 " Yes ! " was Arthur Maverick's reply " the 
 meaning of that sound ? " 
 
 " Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke is coming hither 
 with a party to seize arid murder me." 
 
 "The baronet?" 
 
 " In person ! Can you not fancy the 
 worthy's motive? On the night when this 
 black mystery was revealed to me, he had me 
 tracked his secret emissary overhead all. Sir 
 Maudaugh knows that I know his good name 
 is threatened. I may send him to the gallows 
 he has doomed me and is coming to mur- 
 der me ! " 
 
 The hoof -strokes sounded nearer, and a shud- 
 der ran through Rose Maverick, who was stand- 
 ing pale but erect beside her brother. 
 
 u My sentence is already pronounced ; I am 
 to die," said Earle, coolly ; " and I lose my life 
 by coming hither to warn you of this man's 
 character! Does that prove, or does it not, 
 that / believe this gypsy's statement? He 
 alone can speak of that scene " 
 
 Earle suddenly stopped. 
 
174 THE BLOOD-HOUND. 
 
 The hoof -strokes clashed on the avenue. The 
 pursuers were nearly upon them. 
 
 "Yes, yes!" said Earle: "there is another wit- 
 ness and he is here ! the blood-hound ! you 
 informed me that he was still alive, old and 
 blind nearly. Send for the dog ! he will 
 know the murderer ! " 
 
 " I will go for him in person ! wait ! " 
 
 And Arthur Maverick disappeared at a 
 bound toward the rear of the mansion, where 
 the bloodhound dangerous in spite of his 
 great age was kept chained. 
 
 As his figure disappeared, Sir Murdaugh 
 Westbrooke, rushed toward the group. Behind 
 came his men, ready 'to obey his orders. 
 
 " There he is ! " shouted the baronet, " armed 
 and ready to resist ! " 
 
 Earle's pistol was indeed in his hand, and 
 unconsciously lie raised it. 
 
 " He is ready to fire ! Shoot him down ! " 
 cried the baronet furiously. 
 
 And he raised his own pistol, but suddenly 
 let it fall. 
 
 Rose Maverick had rushed between Earle and 
 the threatening muzzle. 
 
 " You dare not fire upon me ! " sjie exclaimed 
 disdainfully ; " if you dare fir/! " 
 
THE BLOOD-HOUND. 175 
 
 And beautiful, superb, her cheeks burning 
 with passionate feeling, 
 
 " I know now that you murdered my father ! " 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 Tne words were nearly drowned in a hoarse 
 and threatening roar; and an instant after- 
 wards an enormous blood-hound bounded down 
 the steps. 
 
 At sight of the dog, Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke uttered a hoarse cry and turned to fly. 
 
 It was too late. The dog had recognized 
 the murderer of his master. His bloodshot 
 eyes glared at the baronet for an instant ; his 
 huge mouth opened wide, displaying the jagged 
 teeth then with one bound the blood-hound 
 reached the spot and sprung at his enemy's 
 throat. 
 
 A second cry, hoarse and horror-stricken like 
 the first, came from the baronet. But this time 
 it was suddenly interrupted. The hound's teeth 
 were on his throat. A supernatural strength 
 seemed to animate the faithful animal the 
 baronet struggled in vain suddenly man and 
 dog fell beneath the trampling hoofs of the 
 horses, and Earle's voice was heard exclaim- 
 ing, 
 
 " Behold the murderer of Giles Maverick ! " 
 
176 THE BLOOD-HOUND. 
 
 As lie uttered the words the far boom of can- 
 non came from the channel. 
 
 Earle started. 
 
 It came a second time. The omnious sound 
 was unmistakable. 
 
 " The corvette ! she is attacked ! " cried 
 Earle. 
 
 And seizing the bridle of the baronet's horse, 
 he leaped into the saddle. 
 
 " Farewell, friends ! " he cried to Arthur and 
 Rose : " there are my cannon ! I know their 
 ring ! My corvette is fighting and I am absent ! 
 Farewell ! " 
 
 And charging, pistol in hand, the confused 
 revenue guard, he passed through them, fol- 
 lowed only by a few random shots, and then 
 disappeared toward the coast. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WHAT FOLLOWED. 
 
 ARLE went on at full speed. 
 
 The boat, he knew, awaited him at the 
 cove under the headland: to reach the 
 spot now without delay was the one 
 thought that possessed him. 
 
 The animal he bestrode was a powerful 
 hunter, of the purest blood and the highest 
 speed. At every bound he cleared ten feet. 
 Earle drove him on mercilessly. With erect 
 head, floating mane, and foam flying from his 
 jaws, he darted straight on toward the coast, 
 along whose headlands and rocky promontories 
 reverberated the hoarse boom of the cannon. 
 
 Suddenly another sound mingled with the far 
 ominous roar, the smiting of hoofs oil the 
 road behind. 
 
 12 (177) 
 
1' WHAT FOLLOWED. 
 
 Earle turned his head and listened. 
 
 ( They are following me," he muttered, dig- 
 ging the spur into his horse's sides. 
 
 lie was not mistaken. Sir Murdangh Yfest- 
 brooke was on his track. 
 
 A brief but fiery scene had followed the fall 
 of the baronet, in the clutch of the blood-hound. 
 His men ran to him, dragged off the dog, and 
 he rose to his feet, trembling, bleeding, and as 
 pale as a corpse. 
 
 " The meaning of this outrage ? " he 
 gasped. 
 
 " Ask your memory," was Arthur Maverick's 
 response, in a low, hoarse tone. 
 
 He advanced close to the baronet as he spoke, 
 and fixed his eyes upon him. 
 
 " You are the murderer of my father ! " came 
 in a low hiss through his pale lips. 
 
 The- baronet recoiled, and his eyes seemed 
 starting from their cavernous sockets. 
 
 " That hound convicts you ! See ! I have 
 only to step aside and he will tear you to the 
 earth a second time ! Wretch ! murderer ! con- 
 victed assassin ! your black crime shall not go 
 unpunished longer ! " 
 
 And catching the baronet by the throat, he 
 would have strangled him despite his great 
 
WHAT FOLLOWED. 179 
 
 strength, had not the men forcibly interposed, 
 and parted them instantly. 
 
 " It is well ! " gasped the baronet, stag- 
 gering back ; " you shall answer for this outrage. 
 I go now, but I return. My horse ! " 
 
 And turning, he caught almost mechanically, 
 the bridle of a horse which one of the men 
 hastened to lead forward. 
 
 The baronet mounted hastily, and made a 
 sign to his men to do likewise. 
 
 Arthur Maverick seemed to hesitate whether 
 he would attempt to retain him or not. 
 
 " Well, go ! " he said ; " but beware how you 
 set your foot here again. Return, as you say 
 you will, and you die by my hand." 
 
 The baronet looked at the speaker with eyes 
 full of indescribable rage, with which was 
 mingled no little trepidation. 
 
 " It is well ! " he said, in a low tone ; " but let 
 the son beware of the fate of the father." 
 
 As he spoke he turned his horse's head, and 
 struck the spur into the animal's sides. 
 
 " Come ! " he shouted in hoarse tones to the 
 men ; " we may catch up with the spy yet. A 
 hundred guineas for his head ! " 
 
 And he set out at full speed on the track of 
 
180 
 
 WHAT FOLLOWED. 
 
 Earle. The men followed, and the party disap- 
 peared like a whilwind. 
 
 The dismounted man, whose horse the bar- 
 onet rode, ran after them. 
 
 The gypsy had already disappeared. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE FLAG WITH THE LILIES. 
 
 continued his flight, making 
 straight for the coast. 
 
 The hunter cleared the earth with long 
 strides, and promised very soon to dis- 
 tance all pursuit and reach the strand. 
 
 Suddenly he staggered. A sharp stone had 
 entered his foot, and inflicted a deep wound. 
 Such was the pain that he was unable to keep 
 up his great speed ; his pace fell off ; he limped 
 terribly; and Earle heard behind him the 
 shouts of the pursuers, who every moment were 
 gaining upon him. 
 
 He turned and looked over his shoulder ; 
 then through the night mist toward the coast. 
 From the rear came threatening cries ; from the 
 
 (181) 
 
182 THE FLAG WITH THE LILIES. 
 
 front, the long reverberating boom of cannon 
 from the channel. 
 
 Behind that curtain of white mist wrapping 
 the shores and the great headlands, Earle felt 
 that a hard combat was going on between his 
 corvette and an English frigate probably. 
 
 The thought drove him to frenzy almost. 
 He struck the poor animal he rode, with his 
 clenched fist. 
 
 " Faster ! faster ! " he exclaimed. " I care 
 not for myself. But she is attacked yonder 
 iny corvette ! They are fighting, and I am not 
 there ! " 
 
 With, merciless spur, he drove the animal to 
 full speed, in spite of his wound ; and thus pur- 
 suers and pursued swept onward toward the sea. 
 
 It was now a race for life. The party com- 
 manded by Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke were 
 every moment gaining on the sailor. Either 
 they caught glimpses of him, or heard the sound 
 of his horse's hoofs. They^ came closer and 
 closer, and Earle heard them, and prepared for 
 the worst. 
 
 As his horse went on at full speed nearly, in 
 spite of the painful limp, the sailor slipped his 
 belt round, and placed the handle of his pistol 
 where he could easily grasp it. 
 
THE FLAG WITH THE LILIES. 183 
 
 " If they come up, I will fight them all," he 
 muttered, with his short, defiant laugh. " That 
 is not brave ; it is the only course ! If I am 
 arrested, I will die on the gallows. Yes, my 
 good Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, you play with 
 edged tools. You may come up with me, but 
 you come to your death ! " 
 
 A pistol-shot was heard, and a bullet whistled 
 by his head. He drew his own weapon, but 
 did not fire. 
 
 " I am too good a sailor to waste my shot," he 
 muttered. 
 
 And he went on, pursued by cries ; they evi- 
 dently saw him, and were gaining rapidly on 
 him. 
 
 The mist opening for a moment, gave him all 
 at once a full glimpse of the party. At their 
 head rode Sir Murdaugh, and Earle heard him 
 howl, 
 
 " Shoot him down ! Death to him ! " 
 
 Then the mist enveloped them. 
 
 But from this mist came, nearer and nearer, 
 the hoof-strokes and the cries. Earle's horse 
 staggered under him, and seemed about to fall. 
 
 From the front, as before, came the thunder 
 of cannon, and with this now mingled the hoarse 
 dash of the waves. 
 
184 THE FLAG WITH THE LILIES. 
 
 " The coast is near. I cannot see, but there 
 is the sound a sailor knows," muttered Earle. 
 
 The roll of the surf grew louder. With it 
 came now the confused sound of voices. 
 
 Earle's brows were heavily knit. 
 
 "I had forgotten that!" he exclaimed. 
 " While I am followed by this party, bent on 
 my death, another party awaits me yonder. Be- 
 tween the two I shall be crushed ! " 
 
 The wind whirled away the mist, and on the 
 strand were seen confused shapes, men run- 
 ning to and fro. 
 
 " I have mistaken my route, and am near 
 Oldport," muttered Earle. 
 
 Then gazing before him, 
 
 " If these people see me, I am lost ! " he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 As he spoke, the party behind rushed upon 
 him, with fierce shouts. From the mist emerged 
 a whirlwind of furious enemies, pistol in hand. 
 
 " Halt ! or you are dead ! " 
 
 Earle replied by firing at the baronet. 
 
 The bullet passed through his hat. Only a 
 moment afterwards a hail-storm of balls whis- 
 tled around the sailor. 
 
 His horse had struck his wounded foot, and, 
 half falling, saved the life of his rider. 
 
THE FLAG WITH THE LILIES. 185 
 
 The bullets passed over Earle's head, and the 
 baronet uttered a cry of rage. 
 
 " Ride him down ! See, his horse will carry 
 him no farther ! " 
 
 Earle drove the spur deep into his animal's 
 side. The only result was that the horse uttered 
 a groan, and nearly fell. 
 
 At the same moment violent hands caught 
 the bridle, and threw him on his haunches. 
 
 "Who be you ? " cried a voice the voice of 
 the man in front. 
 
 Earle recognized that voice. It belonged to 
 Goliath. 
 
 He threw himself from the saddle. 
 
 " I am one of the wolves ! " he said ; " and 
 they are after me ! " 
 
 " You !" exclaimed the giant, recognizing 
 him. 
 
 " Yes : listen ! Yonder are the men who are 
 hunting me down ! " 
 
 The baronet rushed on with his men, who 
 uttered shouts of triumph. 
 
 " Who be these \ " said Goliath. 
 
 " Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke and the revenue 
 guard !" 
 
 No sooner had Goliath heard Earle's reply, 
 than he drew a long knife. His next proceed- 
 
186 THE FLAG WITH THE LILIES. 
 
 ing was to utter a shrill and prolonged cry, re- 
 sembling the scream of the sea-gull. 
 
 At that cry, dusky shapes rushed toward him 
 from every direction. The wolves had evident- 
 ly recognized the signal, which meant, " One of 
 the wolves is in danger ! " 
 
 " You be safe, master," said Goliath. 
 
 Earle drew his second pistol. 
 
 " Go on, master ; where you be going? " 
 
 " I am not going anywhere ! " 
 
 As he spoke, the pursuers darted upon them. 
 
 " Kill him ! " exclaimed the baronet, " and all 
 who resist ! " 
 
 As he spoke he fired at Earle, and, riding at 
 him, levelled a blow at him with his pistol, 
 which was still smoking. 
 
 The sailor parried it, and fired on the baronet, 
 so close that the powder blackened his face. As 
 the weapon was discharged, the horse ridden by 
 the baronet took fright and wheeled. He was 
 not destined to bear off his rider, however, who 
 had remained uninjured. One of the wolves 
 caught the baronet by the throat and dragged 
 him down. Then the fight surged over him. 
 Quick pistol-shots, cries, the revenue guards 
 scattering and flying, hotly pursued, such 
 were the sounds and sights which greeted Sir 
 
Till FLAG WITH THE LILIES. 187 
 
 Murdau^h as he rolled to the earth, and a pow- 
 erful wolf placed his knee on him. 
 
 " Quick, master," said Goliath to Earle ; " the 
 fight be over ! take care of yourself ! " 
 
 " Thanks." 
 
 And Earle caught a horse and threw himself 
 into the saddle. 
 
 " Good-by, brother ! " he said, grasping the 
 huge hand of Goliath ; " you have saved my 
 life to-night, and I shall not forget that." 
 
 Goliath shook his head. 
 
 " ISTo need of thanking me, master. You be 
 a wolf, but look out ! " 
 
 Earle turned in the direction indicated by 
 the giant's finger. 
 
 The sound of cavalry coming on at full gal- 
 lop was heard. 
 
 " The revenue station people ! " 
 
 " They are too. late ! " 
 
 And with a last pressure of the hand, Earle 
 darted off along the shore toward the spot 
 where the boat awaited him. 
 
 In ten minutes he stopped, and threw him- 
 self to the earth. 
 
 Then he began to run along the narrow ledge 
 of rock, and disappeared in the shadow of the 
 headland. 
 
188 THE FLAG WITH THE LILIES. 
 
 Ten minutes afterwards the revenue\ guard 
 who had ridden down to the shore, might have 
 been heard uttering cries. 
 
 A boat had darted from the shadow of the 
 headland, above which suddenly soared the 
 beacon light. The gigantic torch lit up all. 
 The ruddy glare turned night into day. The 
 boat was rowed by four men, and another in 
 uniform stood erect in the stern. 
 
 A shower of bullets from the guard, who 
 rode down into the surf, greeted the boat. 
 
 The reply aroused furious shouts and more 
 shots. 
 
 It was simple. 
 
 The man in the stern unfurled a flag, and 
 waved his hat. 
 
 The glare of the beacon fell on the flag. 
 
 On its defiant folds were emblazoned the 
 lilies of France ; and, as though, to salute it, a 
 salvo of cannon roared from the channel. 
 
 Earle waved his hat a second time in triumph, 
 and in ten minutes the boat had disappeared in 
 the mist. 
 
PART III. 
 
 BURIED ALIVE. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BARON DELAMEEE. 
 
 -r 
 
 NTIL nearly midnight the cannon con- 
 tinued to roar from St. George's Chan- 
 nel ; then the dull sound receded, was 
 heard at intervals only ; then ceased. 
 Three days afterwards His French Majesty's 
 corvette the Solitaire, entered the port of Brest, 
 having in tow His Britannic Majesty's sloop-of- 
 war the Hornet, which had attacked the cor- 
 vette in St. George's Channel, off the coast of 
 Pembrokeshire, and very nearly succeeded in 
 sinking the Frenchman. 
 
 (189) 
 
190 BARON 1 DELAMERE. 
 
 In fact the fight was plainly going in favor of 
 tlie Hornet, and the corvette was trying to get 
 off, when a boat rowed by four sailors, with a 
 fifth person standing in the stern, was seen mak- 
 ing its way from shore, directly under the fire 
 of the Ilornetfs guns and this boat in the 
 midst of plunging shot, and a fire of musketry 
 directed at it, reached the corvette ; the person 
 in the stern leaping instantly upon deck, and, 
 as the English commander could see, taking 
 command. 
 
 From that moment the fight became far 
 more obstinate ; and it was soon obvious that 
 whoever the commanding officer of the corvette 
 might be, he had resolved to go to the bottom 
 rather than strike his flag. Success crowned 
 his hard work it was the sloop-of-war which 
 struck her flag, and the corvette sailed away 
 with her, managing to evade the English crui- 
 sers and reach Brest in safety. 
 
 Such had been the result of Earle's night 
 combat in St. George's Channel, victory over 
 a waspish craft manned by good men, and 
 commanded by a brave old sea-dog. He sailed 
 into Brest with colors flying, and was saluted 
 by the fortress with the roar of cannon. 
 
 An hour afterwards he had cast anchor. 
 
BARON DELAMERE. 191 
 
 His barge was manned, and he sprung into 
 it. The oars fell, the barge danced over the 
 waves, Earle touched shore ; and was soon 
 bowing, cocked hat in hand, in presence of 
 the great Due de Choiseul, prime minister, 
 who chanced, happily for the sailor's fortunes 
 to be on a visit to Brest, and to witness his 
 triumphal entry. 
 
 A week afterwards Captain Edmond Earle 
 was travelling post from Paris to the village 
 of Martigny. 
 
 The object of his visit was to procure a 
 copy of his baptismal register, and the formal 
 record of the marriage of his father and 
 mother. 
 
 These documents were necessary before he 
 could be created Baron Delamere. 
 
 That was the reward designed to be con- 
 ferred on the young sailor; and for the sug- 
 gestion he was indebted to no less a personage 
 than the Viscount Cecil. 
 
 A few words will place the reader in pos- 
 session of the details. Our history passes in 
 Wales, and only touches for a few moments 
 the French shore. 
 
 The capture of the viscount had pleased 
 everybody, and the court was thus in high 
 
192 BARON DELAMERE. 
 
 good humour. He was released at once on 
 parole; feted by the anti-war party; received 
 with great politeness by his grace the Due de 
 Choiseul, . whose word was law throughout 
 France; and one morning when he was 
 shown into the minister's cabinet he found 
 Earle in waiting. 
 
 " Ah ! you have returned then, my dear 
 Captain ? " he said. 
 
 " As you see, my lord," said Earle, bowing. 
 
 "And, I have heard, with a prize. What 
 ship had the bad luck to meet you ? " 
 
 " I was attaked by His Britannic Majesty's 
 sloop-of-war Hornet^ my lord." 
 
 "Commanded by Digby! You had a hard 
 fight ? " 
 
 " A very hard one, my lord. Captain Digby 
 did not seem to know when he ought to strike ! 
 A very brave man ! " 
 
 The Yiscount Cecil bowed. 
 
 "When one brave sailor speaks well of an- 
 other, we civilians should listen." 
 
 "Your lordship does me great honor." 
 
 " Not more than you deserve, sir. Come to 
 England I will have you made a peer ! " 
 
 The Due de Choiseul laughed. 
 
 " What say you, Monsieur le Capitaine 1 " 
 
BARON DELAMERE. 193 
 
 The sailor bowed. 
 
 " I have a flag, my lord. It is the flag of 
 the lilies ! " 
 
 The viscount approached the duke. 
 
 "See, mouse igneur! you have a nobleman 
 already made there." 
 
 " But you think, my Lord Viscount " said 
 Choiseul. 
 
 "That you should make him a baron, at 
 least, monseigneur." 
 
 Baron whom ? " 
 
 " Stay : I find you a name, monseigneur. 
 Delamere de-la-mer. He captured me while 
 bearing that name ; and I assure your lordship 
 that he will honor your patent." 
 
 The Due de Choiseul inclined politely. 
 
 " Will it oblige Monsieur le Yicopte ? " 
 
 " Very greatly, my lord. It is a great privi- 
 lege to be able .to reward merit I have en- 
 joyed it at times." 
 
 The duke took a large sheet of paper, wrote 
 some lines upon it, and then afiixed his seal 
 to it. 
 
 " Monsieur le Baron Delamere," he said, turn- 
 ing to Earle, " take this paper to the Bureau 
 of Record, which you will easily find, and 
 have all the formalities attended to by the 
 13 
 
194 BARON DELAMERE. 
 
 chief of the Bureau. You will then report in 
 fifteen days to the admiral at Brest for orders. 
 The Temeraire will await you there, and you 
 will take command of her ! " 
 
 Earle bowed low. The Temeraire was a 
 frigate of the first class ; and he was dizzy for 
 joy. He did not think of the paper in his 
 hand. But when he found himself in the 
 antechamber he glanced at it. 
 
 " Edmond Earle created by His Majesty 
 for important services Baron Delamere. 
 Choiseul." 
 
 Earle read something like that. The whole 
 affair astonished him. And he owed this latter 
 distinction to his brave enemy the viscount ! 
 
 As he walked on, in a dream as it were, he 
 felt a hand laid upon his arm. 
 
 He turned quickly. It was the Yiscount 
 Cecil. 
 
 " Farewell, baron ; I return to England to- 
 morrow," said the viscount. 
 
 " You are released, then, my lord ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I am overjoyed to be so informed. It was 
 by my act that you have been thus incon- 
 venienced and your revenge has been 
 princely, my lord." 
 
BARON DELAMERE. 195 
 
 The viscount took the sailor's arm, and they 
 walked on together. 
 
 " Listen, my dear Captain Earle for that 
 is your most honorable title," said Viscount 
 Cecil : " I am an old man now, and have seen 
 a great deal of the world. I never prided my- 
 011 many things, but I think I recognize a 
 gentleman whenever I meet one. Well, you 
 conducted yourself as such in capturing me, 
 and you beat Digby those two facts have 
 much impressed me. To day I found the 
 occasion his grace was in an excellent humor, 
 lie has made you a baron you deserve that, 
 sir; and when the war ends, come and see 
 me. I live at Wentworth Castle you will 
 always be welcome there. Farewell, Captain ! 
 There is the Bureau of Record." 
 
 And he held out his hand, which Earle 
 pressed warmly ., 
 
 " Thanks, my lord," he said. " The king en- 
 nobles me for a fight and a victory. But there 
 are others who do not require that, since they 
 are noblemen by nature." 
 
 And they parted, Earle entering the 
 Bureau. 
 
 He was ushered into an inner apartment, 
 where a dry-looking individual scowled at him. 
 
196 BARON" DELAMERE. 
 
 At sight of the paper in the writing of Choiseul, 
 however, this individual dissolved into profuse 
 politeness. 
 
 "Will Monsieur le Baron be seated?" he 
 said, bowing and pointing to a chair. " This 
 patent is in regular order. I congratulate Mon- 
 sieur le Baron. A few formalities only are nec- 
 essary, mere formalities ; namely, the full 
 name of Monsieur le Baron's father and mother, 
 and the date of their marriage ; also, the date 
 of Monsieur. le Baron's birth : that will be all. 
 Delighted to serve Monsieur le Baron ! " 
 
 And the functionary executed another bow. 
 
 Earle responded in the same manner, and 
 left the Bureau, with "Monsieur le Baron" 
 fairly ringing in his ears. 
 
 On the next morning he set out for Mar- 
 tigny, in Normandy, remembering the writing 
 in the recluse's missal. 
 
 Just at dusk he reached the village. 
 
 As he entered it in the post-carriage, a man 
 muffled in a heavy overcoat passed, running 
 rapidly. 
 
 The man seemed making for the sea-coast, a 
 mile or so distant, where some sail-boats were 
 seen. 
 
 Earle scarcely looked at him. He stopped 
 
BARON DELAMERE. 197 
 
 at the inn, and was directed to the house of 
 the cure. 
 
 " What is your pleasure, my son ? " said the 
 old priest, meeting him on the steps. 
 
 " To see your register, father, and find the 
 date of the marriage of the Temeraire ! 
 Pshaw! pardon, father! They have -given 
 me a frigate, and it has turned my head ! " 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 THE MUTILATED REGISTER. 
 
 r O hours before the appearance of Earle 
 at the village of Martigny, a man of 
 powerful frame, his face half-covered 
 by a heavy beard, had knocked at the 
 door of the old priest's house, and, receiving 
 the reply " Come in," had entered. 
 
 " You are the priest of this parish ? " said the 
 man, with a foreign accent. 
 " Yes, my son." 
 
 " And you have in your possession the record 
 of births in the parish?" 
 " Yes, my son." 
 
 " 1 wish to examine them, to find the reg- 
 istry of the birth of Jean Angely, cordwainer," 
 said the man. 
 
 The old priest mildly inclined his head. 
 (198) 
 
THE MUTILATED REGISTER. 199 
 
 " That will be easy, my son. But you know 
 we poor priests are very curious, having so 
 little to amuse us. The object of this inquiry, 
 my son ? " 
 
 " That Jean Angely may inherit property 
 left to him. His cousin, Guillaume Angely, 
 of Tours, leaves a farm to Jean Angely, born 
 at Martigny, and son of Robert Angely and 
 Suzanne, his wife. The fact of his birth 
 needs formal proof. The register will prove 
 it." 
 
 The priest inclined his head, and, after a mo- 
 ment's hesitation, opened a closet. From this 
 he took a large volume in black leather, and 
 laid it on the table. 
 
 " The date is about 17 , " said the man. 
 
 " An error of a year, my son." 
 
 " It may be." 
 
 And the man turned over the leaves, examin- 
 ing the register. 
 
 As he was thus engaged, a second knock 
 came at the door. 
 
 " Come in ! " repeated the old priest, and a 
 child entered. 
 
 " Well, my little one ?" 
 
 The child modestly held down his head and 
 said, 
 
200 THE MUTILATED REGISTER. 
 
 " Mother Francois is dying, and wishes to see 
 you, father." 
 
 " Mother Francois ! Dying ! Why, she was 
 scarcely ill ! " 
 
 lie rose quickly and put on his hat. Then 
 lie stopped, looking toward the man. 
 
 Compassion "conquered, however, and he 
 went toward the door. 
 
 " I will return speedily, my son. Await my 
 coming." 
 
 And he left the room. 
 
 As the door closed, the man turned round 
 and listened attentively. The priest's footsteps 
 receded. 
 
 " Good ! " he said ; " my little trap has caught 
 the old bird. I have ten minutes," 
 
 With a sharp knife he rapidly cut from the 
 volume one of the leaves. This he examined a 
 second time, to he sure that no mistake had been 
 made, folded, and placed in his pocket-book ; 
 returned the latter to his pocket; and, taking 
 pen, ink, and paper, carefully copied the entry 
 in the register, relating to Jean Angely, cord- 
 wainer. 
 
 He was thus occupied when the old priest 
 returned, red in the face, and looking much 
 mortified. 
 
THE MUTILATED REGISTER. 201 
 
 " These children ! these children ! " he mur- 
 mured: "to think of Emile Drouet playing a 
 trick on me." 
 
 The man raised his head. 
 
 " They played a trick, do you say \ " he in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Yes, yes, my son ; Mother Francois was 
 much better than when I saw her this morning, 
 and had never sent Emile. That child will 
 turn out badly." 
 
 " A young rascal ! " said the man. " "Well, I 
 have copied the entry I wish, and you can at- 
 test it." 
 
 " I will do so with pleasure, my son." 
 
 And comparing the copy of the entry, it was 
 found correct. The old priest then certified on 
 the paper that it was a true copy, signed his 
 name, and the man folded up the document, 
 and put it in his pocket. 
 
 " Is any fee to be paid ? " he asked. 
 
 " None, my son. It is my duty to keep the 
 register, and afford access to it. I can even 
 offer you a part of my poor dinner, if it please 
 you to share it." 
 
 This the man declined, and wrapping a great 
 overcoat around him, he straightway left the 
 priest's house. 
 
202 THE MUTILATED REGISTER. 
 
 He did not go to the inn, but out toward the 
 suburbs, in the direction of the coast. 
 
 Once in the suburbs, he began to run, mak- 
 ing for a clump of woods on a hill. 
 
 He saw a post-carriage driving rapidly into 
 Martigny from the direction of Paris. 
 
 He scarcely glanced at it, and reaching the 
 woods, disappeared. 
 
CHAPTER 
 
 THE REVELATION. 
 
 HE day seemed destined to be a busy 
 one for the good priest of Martigny. 
 
 The man who had called to examine 
 the record of the birth of Jean Angely, 
 had scarce left him, when another appeared, 
 anxious to know " the date of the marriage of 
 the Temeraire" 
 
 Earle laughed, and corrected himself. 
 "I mean the date of the marriage of one 
 who was probably a member of your flock, 
 father." 
 
 " Her name, my son \ " 
 " Marianne Earle." 
 The old priest looked up quickly. 
 " Marianne Earle, my son \ " he said. 
 " Yes, father. Did you not know her ?" 
 
 (203) 
 
204 THE REVELATION. 
 
 " As I should know my own child, had I en- 
 joyed the happiness of paternity." 
 
 "Then you loved her ?" 
 
 Tenderly." 
 
 Again the old priest looked intently at Earle. 
 
 "Well, father, then you will certainly be 
 pleased to aid me. I am her son." 
 
 " You the son of Marianne Earle ! " 
 
 The sailor nodded. 
 
 " Does that seem strange, father ? " 
 
 " And she sends you ? " 
 
 Earle shook his head. 
 
 '" Why, then, do you come ? " 
 
 Earle explained his object. 
 
 The old priest listened, quietly ; but it was 
 plain that he was weighing every word which 
 his companion uttered. 
 
 "Now you understand, father. Pray look 
 for your register. I wish to find the date of 
 my mother's marriage, and that of my birth 
 too." 
 
 The old priest did not move. 
 
 " In a moment, my son. Where is your mo- 
 ther now ? " 
 
 " In Wales." 
 
 " You have seen her lately ? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
THE REVELATION. 205 
 
 " And she could not inform you of the exact 
 date?" 
 
 " Doubtless ; but the occasion has just arisen ; 
 moreover, she has always preserved a singular 
 silence on these matters." 
 
 - "Her silence has been judicious, my son," 
 said the old priest, gravely ; " I know its cause, 
 and approve it." 
 
 " What is the cause ? " 
 
 " I will tell you frankly. She wishes to pre- 
 serve you from a knowledge of your father." 
 
 " Of my father ? Was he not her cousin, Ed- 
 mond Earle of the Marine ? " 
 
 The priest hesitated an instant, 
 
 " No," he said at length ; " he was a heretic." 
 
 " My father a heretic ! and not Edmond 
 Earle ! you astound me, father ! " 
 
 "I tell you the truth, my son; and your 
 mother had good reason to conceal all this. 
 She was one of my flock, and I knew every 
 thought of her heart. Every breath she drew 
 was purity itself, and she placed her religious 
 duties before all. Your father would surely 
 have corrupted you hence she fled to rescue 
 you. Now you come and ask me to tell you, in 
 effect the name of that father. Do you wonder 
 I hesitate ? " 
 
206 THE REVELATION. 
 
 Earle pondered with knit brow for a moment. 
 
 " No father but it is astounding ! Ed- 
 mond Earle not my father ? His name, then ! 
 his name ! Or rather let me see the register I " 
 
 The old priest said solemnly, 
 
 " Swear to me, that you will not be corrupted 
 by him, my son." 
 
 "Corrupted?" 
 
 " That you will not permit him to shake your 
 faith in the Holy Church." 
 
 " I swear it, father. I am a good Catholic, 
 and will die in the true faith ! Does that sat- 
 isfy you? My father's name now? " 
 
 " Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke." 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE DISCOVERT. 
 
 gave a violent start and turned so 
 pale that he seemed about to faint. 
 
 "Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke!" he 
 gasped, " that man my father 1 " 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " You laugh at me, old man ! My father 
 was a French sailor, Edmond Earle, a brave 
 man and a good Catholic." 
 
 "You are mistaken. Your father was an 
 Englishman, and I am sorry to say a heretic, 
 my son ! " 
 
 " Good heavens ! " 
 
 The old priest assumed an expression which 
 said, 
 
 " It is melancholy, but true ! " 
 Then he added in words, 
 " You doubtless have seen him ? " 
 
 (207) 
 
208 THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 "Yes," said the sailor, in a low voice; his 
 brows knit, his eyes fixed upon the carpet. 
 
 " Without knowing of the relationship ? " 
 
 " I never dreamed of it," said Earle, in the 
 same tone. 
 
 Then rising suddenly, and losing sight appar- 
 ently of the presence of the priest, he paced 
 hurriedly up and down the room, exclaiming at 
 intervals, 
 
 " That man my father ! the husband of my 
 mother, living there within sight of her; never 
 acknowledging, or perhaps not knowing her! 
 It is incredible, or it is infamous ! That mur- 
 derer .whom I have just renounced! that man 
 who has tracked, and hunted me to my death 
 well-nigh ! that assassin, that infamous excres- 
 cence of humanity, this wretch my father! 
 my own father ! " 
 
 He sank into a chair, and covered his face 
 with both hands. His breast shook, a deep sob 
 tore its way from his lips, and scalding tears 
 trickled between his fingers. 
 
 The old priest went to him, and said sooth- 
 ingly, 
 
 " Do not be so much moved, my son. No 
 human being can control his fate. It is not 
 your fault that you are this man's son. Dry your 
 
THE DISCOVERY. 209 
 
 tears ; seek consolation where alone it is to be 
 found, and all will once more grow peaceful in 
 your breast. Lift iip your heart ! " 
 
 The old man man raised his hand, and 
 pointed toward heaven. Earle slowly inclined 
 his head, and removed his hands. His face was 
 wet with tears. 
 
 " Enough, father," he said. " I was a child 
 for a moment, but I am a man again." 
 
 His face flushed. He rose to his feet. 
 
 " Yes, a man ! and my mother shall not suf- 
 fer!" 
 
 "Your mother?" 
 
 " She shall not be repudiated by that man ! 
 I know him too well ; he has acted infamously, 
 if he is my father ; he is bent on acting more in- 
 famously still." 
 
 " Tell me all, my son." 
 
 " He designs marrying a second time ; and 
 even now may be perfecting that crime in spite 
 of all I have done to destroy him ! " 
 
 " You ! a second marriage ! Why that would 
 be - no marriage, since your mother still lives, 
 you say. And you speak of attempting to des- 
 troy him ! How is all this, my son ? " 
 
 Earle grew calm, collected, and on his guard 
 all at once. The old priest's foible was evidently 
 14 
 
210 THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 curiosity ; but the sailor did not wish to gratify 
 this curiosity. A heavy weight was on his heart, 
 and he saw that there was no time to lose if he 
 meant to act. 
 
 " I am in haste now, father," he said, " and 
 must reserve my story for another occasion. 
 At present I request that you will exhibit to me 
 your register, and supply me with an attested 
 copy of the marriage record of Marianne Earle 
 and Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke. It is here 
 the register ? " 
 
 " Yes, my son ; there upon the table." 
 
 And the old priest approached the table, and 
 opened the volume bound in black leather. 
 
 "Another person has. just visited me, on an 
 errand similar to yours, my son. His object 
 was to procure a copy, attested, of a certain 
 birth entry. What you wish is further back. 
 It ought to be here," he added, stopping as he 
 turned over the leaves. 
 
 He examined the pages. 
 
 " Strange ! " he said. " I do not find it, and 
 
 yet" 
 
 He looked at the paging of the volume. At 
 a glance it was evident that one of the sheets 
 was missing, since page 39 followed page 36. 
 
 "Can it be?" 
 
THE DISCOVERY. 211 
 
 And the priest examined the volume more 
 closely. A sheet had been cut out. The nar- 
 row strip remained indicating the theft. 
 
 " It is incredible ! How was it possible ? Yes, 
 yes ! while I was absent ! That was a plan laid 
 to remove me. Not a doubt of it ! " 
 
 " What is the matter, father ? " exclaimed 
 Earle. 
 
 " It is gone, my son. The entry of your 
 father and mother's marriage has been stolen ! " 
 
 " Stolen ! By whom ? " 
 
 " By the man who was here an hour ago. " 
 
 " The man ! " 
 
 "An Englishman, as I conjectured from his 
 accent. He had me sent for on a false errand ; 
 remained here, and must have cut out this leaf." 
 
 Earle gazed in astonishment at the book, and 
 saw the narrow slip. 
 
 " What interest could any one have in " 
 
 Suddenly he stopped. 
 
 " An Englishman, did you say, father ? " 
 
 " As I supposed, my son." 
 
 " His appearance ? " 
 
 "A large man of great bulk and strength, 
 though not tall. He had a heavy black beard on 
 his face, and wore an English dreadnought 
 coat." 
 
212 THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 " It was Wilde ! " exclaimed Earle ; " and lie 
 was sent hither by his master. This proof of 
 the marriage with my mother existed. He is 
 bent on marrying again, and has abstracted it." 
 
 He turned quickly, and seized his hat. 
 
 " What route did the man take, father ? " 
 
 " I can tell you that, my son. He went 
 straight toward the coast." 
 
 Earle hastened toward the door. 
 
 " Farewell, father ! I am going to pursue 
 him. I have fifteen days' furlough ; this cloak 
 will conceal my uniform. From this moment 
 it is a struggle which of us shall reach England 
 first. I will have that paper, or the. life of the 
 man who carries it on his person. If he arrives 
 with it, all is lost ! If I come up with him all 
 is saved. Farewell, father ! Your blessing. I 
 go on- a dangerous journey." 
 
 And turning suddenly, the young man knelt 
 on one knee. 
 
 " Heaven bless and prosper you, my son ! " 
 
 A moment afterwards Earle had disappeared. 
 
CHAPTER Y. 
 
 THE BLOW OF THE WHIP. 
 
 T the moment when Earle left Paris, on 
 his way to Martigny, events of import- 
 ance to the personages of this history 
 were occurring in Pembrokeshire. 
 Arthur Maverick was seated in his library, 
 gloomily reflecting, when a servant entered and 
 announced Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke. 
 
 A moment afterwards the baronet entered. 
 His brow was as black as night, and there 
 was something venomous and yet apprehensive 
 in the glance shot sidewise from his deep-set 
 eyes. 
 
 Arthur Maverick rose quickly. . His whole 
 person seemed suddenly to have stiffened into 
 stone. 
 
 " Your pleasure, sir I " he said, in a voice 
 
 V'. v (213) 
 
214: THE BLOW OF THE WHIP, 
 
 which was scarcely recognizable. " What does 
 my father's murderer propose to himself in 
 coming to this house ? " 
 
 The young man's expression was sick and 
 scornful. It was plain that he tolerated the 
 presence of the baronet only by a strong effort. 
 
 " I came to speak of that," was the low reply 
 of Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke ; " to ascertain 
 if I am to suffer in the estimation of yourself 
 and the Misses Maverick from the testimony of 
 a vagabond and the attack of a mad dog." 
 
 Arthur looked at him fixedly. 
 
 " How do you know that the vagabond testi- 
 fied against you ? " he said. 
 
 Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke was caught. 
 
 " I thought as much. He is my enemy and 
 has endevored to extort money from me. He 
 made up the whole of this base charge. Your 
 father and myself never met after our quarrel 
 on the race-course." 
 
 " Not even when he bound you to a tree and 
 lashed you ? " 
 
 Sir Murdaugh quivered with rage at the 
 scornful glance of the young man. 
 
 " That is a lie, like the charge of murder. He 
 never so outraged me." 
 
 " And you think I will believe you you, the 
 
THE BLOW OF THE WHIP. 215 
 
 convicted liar and murderer!" exclaimed the 
 young man. " You suppose, then, that I am a 
 baby that because I have not arrested you, 
 you will go free. Undeceive yourself. Your 
 fate approaches. At the next assizes I lay an 
 information against you, and the gallows shall 
 avenge my father." 
 
 Sir Murdaugh rose in tremendous wrath. 
 
 " Then there are none but enemies here," he 
 growled. 
 
 " You have one friend at least," exclaimed a 
 voice at the door, and Ellinor bounded into, 
 rather than simply entered the apartment. 
 
 " Yes ! " she cried, " there is one person who 
 disbelieves this infamous fabrication, this slan- 
 der based on the testimony of spies and vaga- 
 bonds and dogs. My cousin there," and she 
 scornfully pointed towards Authur, "may be- 
 lieve as he chooses, and insult the guests in his 
 own house to his heart's desire ; but I, at least, 
 will not do that. I cling to " 
 
 " Your rich suitor, madam ? " 
 
 And with an expression of overpowering 
 scorn, Arthur Maverick made his cousin a low 
 bow. 
 
 The contempt of his voice and expression 
 seemed to sting the fair Ellinor into wild rage. 
 
216 THE BLOW OF THE WHIP. 
 
 " If I am to be insulted, I will leave this 
 bouse. I am not homeless; Lad} 7 Worsham 
 will protect me." 
 
 " As you please, madam," said the young man, 
 making her a second bow of profound cere- 
 mony. " You are welcome here as long as you 
 remain Miss Ellinor Maverick. If you design 
 becoming Lady Westbrooke, the ceremony will 
 not take place here." 
 
 The young lady could scarce contain her rage 
 at these words. 
 
 " Yery well, sir," she said, shooting a wrathful 
 glance at her cousin ; " will you have the good- 
 ness to order a carriage to take me to Lady 
 Worsham's?" 
 
 Arthur Maverick quietly rang a bell, and a 
 servant entered. 
 
 " The coach ! " he said. 
 
 The servant disappeared. 
 
 " I will not remain here an instant longer 
 than is necessary, sir." 
 
 And going out, the young lady banged the 
 door violently after her. 
 
 Sir Murdaugh had listened attentively. He 
 had supposed his suit at an end forever. Now 
 the unexpected turn of affairs showed him that 
 he might derive enormous advantage from 
 
THE BLOW OF THE WHIP. 217 
 
 Elliuor's continued adhesion to her engagement. 
 Who would be brought to believe that he was a 
 murderer, when Miss Maverick consented to be 
 come Lady Westbrooke? Would the niece 
 marry the murderer of her own uncle ? No one 
 would believe that. It was with a sudden senti- 
 ment of safety and triumph, therefore, that the 
 baronet prepared to depart. 
 
 " I will imitate Miss Maverick now, sir, and 
 rid you of my f urthur presence here," he said, 
 venomously. 
 
 " Do so," said Arthur Maverick, " and beware 
 how you return." 
 
 " And you, sir, beware how you insult me," 
 hissed the baronet. 
 
 " Insult you ? You are not worth insult." 
 
 "Beware!" 
 
 "This is my reply to you." 
 
 And seizing a riding-whip lying on the table 
 near, the young man, in a wild rage at the pres- 
 ence of his father's murderer, struck the baronet 
 a furious blow across the face. 
 
 In an instant they would have clutched each 
 other ; but the door suddenly flew open. 
 
 " The blood-hound, sir ! " exclaimed a servant, 
 rushing into the apartment. 
 
 "What of the hound?" said Arthur Mav- 
 
218 THE BLOW OF THE WHIP. 
 
 erick, pale with passion, and quivering in every 
 muscle. 
 
 " There at the door, sir. He has gone mad, 
 they say." 
 
 In spite of himself, the baronet turned pale. 
 
 " We meet again ! " he gasped, hoarsely, ad- 
 dressing Arthur Maverick. " You have struck 
 me, outraged me : you shall answer with your 
 life." 
 
 And seeing that the way was clear, he 
 hastened forth and mounted his horse. A mo- 
 ment afterward, he was going down the avenue 
 at full speed. 
 
 Suddenly a hoarse and prolonged bay was 
 heard in the grounds. Then a white object 
 darted swiftly from a mass of shrubbery on his 
 track. 
 
 The blood-hound had seen and was pursuing 
 him. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE MAD DOG. 
 
 HE baronet rode on at the full speed of 
 his horse. 
 
 That deep and ominous bay had 
 shown him his danger, and he had now 
 a double reason to fear the blood-hound. Not 
 only was the animal his sworn enemy as the 
 murderer of Giles Maverick, he was mad, and 
 his bite was mortal, no longer a mere wound. 
 
 Thus it was a race for life. As he went on 
 at headlong speed, he heard the hourid on his 
 track. 
 
 The dog had cleared the tall gate in the wall 
 enclosing the grounds, at one leap ; had plainly 
 descried the baronet going at full speed over 
 the high-road ; and now, with hanging tongue, 
 quick pants, and grinning mouth, he pursued 
 
 (219) 
 
220 THE MAD DOG. 
 
 him at a pace which promised to put his enemy 
 in his power in a few minutes. 
 
 Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke was brave, but his 
 heart sank within him as he drove his horse on. 
 The hoarse bay of the mad hound rang in his 
 ears like the trump of doom. Every instant he 
 seemed to be gaining on his enemy in the wild 
 race. 
 
 Suddenly his horse, into whose sides he had 
 driven the spur mercilessly, stumbled and half 
 fell. 
 
 With a curse, his rider dragged him up, and 
 again struck the spur into him. 
 
 But the instant thus lost was nearly fatal to 
 the baronet. The hound reached him and 
 sprung at his throat, his eyes glaring, his mouth 
 slavering. 
 
 But for the sudden grasp on the bridle, that 
 moment would have been the baronet's last. 
 The horse rose to his feet again, and the blood- 
 hound missed his spring. The sharp teeth, in- 
 stead of fixing themselves in the baronet's throat, 
 clutched his riding boot. 
 
 Death had grazed him thus, and he improved 
 the incident promptly. 
 
 "With a blow from his clenched hand, cased 
 in a heavy riding gauntlet, he hurled the hound 
 
THE MAD DOG. 221 
 
 from him. The animal rolled over on his back, 
 and again the baronet went on headlong, intent 
 on nothing now but escape. 
 
 All at once, however, the ominous bay was 
 again heard. "With a sudden chill at his heart, 
 he turned his head and looked back. The hound 
 was once more pursuing him, more resolute and 
 enraged than before. 
 
 At that spectacle the murderer felt a pang of 
 mortal fear. Despair clutched him, as he felt 
 the venomous teeth would soon do. The image 
 of the man whom he had assassinated rose and 
 " shook his gory locks at him." In the agony 
 of his soul he shouted, 
 
 " Help ! help ! that dog will murder me. 
 Help!" 
 
 Suddenly his horse shied violently. He had 
 nearly ridden over a man in the road. This 
 man was rudely clad, and shouted, 
 
 " What be the matter ? " 
 
 " The dog ! " gasped the baronet. 
 
 And he looked over his shoulder. 
 
 The mad blood-hound was within ten feet of 
 him. 
 
 " Ten guineas if you kill him ! " he gasped. 
 
 As he spoke, the hound sprung. But the 
 man had understood, and met him. 
 
222 THE MAD DOG. 
 
 They clutched and rolled on the road, locked 
 in a mortal hug. 
 
 The baronet did not wait. He put spur to his 
 horse and disappeared at headlong speed toward 
 "Westbrooke Hall. 
 
 He was saved. 
 
 An hour afterward one of the fraternity of 
 wolves entered Oldport, with his breast covered 
 with blood. 
 
 The blood flowed from a deep wound in his 
 throat, which had swelled suddenly. 
 
 When his brother wolves questioned him, he 
 said he had met a man chased by a dog, the man 
 had offered him ten guineas to kill the dog, and 
 he had killed him. 
 
 Then the " wolf " ceased speaking, and began 
 to snap at those around him. 
 
 Two days afterwards he was attacked with 
 convulsions, and four men were required to 
 hold him. 
 
 On the next day he was calmer, but suddenly 
 drawing up his limbs, expired. 
 
 The dead hound had been discovered on the 
 road to Maverick House. The " wolf " had sue- 
 
THE MAD DOG. 
 
 223 
 
 ceeded in strangling him, but the mortal poison 
 had been communicated. 
 
 He had died of the bite of the mad dog, in 
 place of the baronet, and even the ten guineas 
 were unpaid. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE BURIAL OF THE WOLF. 
 
 'HE wolves followed their dead companion 
 to the grave, with solemn ceremony. 
 
 The scene of sepulture was a wild spot 
 on the very brink of the sea, and the fish- 
 ermen had enclosed the space by piling up 
 masses of rock, which from the channel resem- 
 bled rough defences against cannon. 
 
 Up the rugged path which led to this burial 
 place they now bore the dead wolf, the rude 
 coffin enclosing his remains carried on the 
 shoulders of his brethren; and reaching the 
 wall, they lifted the coffin over, and carried it 
 to the side of the grave. 
 
 Then the ceremony of interring a member of 
 the fraternity of the wolves began. ISTo priest 
 of any denomination was present, and there was 
 something heathenish in the strange rites. 
 
 (224) 
 
THE BURIAL OF THE WOLF. 225 
 
 Hands were joined around the grave, the 
 wolves circled it slowly, beating the ground 
 with monotonous feet ; then a wild and melan- 
 choly chant rose, and was carried away by the 
 wind. 
 
 This lasted for half an hour. Then the hands 
 were unlocked and the coffin lowered into the 
 grave amid deep murmurs. 
 
 "Who is this we be a burying?" came in 
 hoarse tones from the gigantic Goliath. 
 
 " A wolf ! " was the muffled response from the 
 voices of all present. 
 
 Goliath extended his hand solemnly. 
 
 " So mote it be ! " he thundered ; " and cursed 
 be the man who moves the bones of a wolf ! " 
 
 As he spoke he took a handful of earth and 
 threw it on- the coffin. The men did likewise, 
 each in turn,. and the grave was speedily filled. 
 
 Then the wild-looking figures joined hands 
 and encircled the grave once more, beat the 
 ground with their feet, and repeated their 
 monotonous chant. 
 
 It ended at last. They left the burial ground, 
 and slowly wound down the hill toward the 
 coast. As they disappeared, night descended, 
 and the moon rose, throwing her pallid light on 
 land and sea. 
 15 
 
226 THE BURIAL OF THE WOLF. 
 
 Such had been the wolf's burial. 
 
 An hour past midnight, and a figure leaped 
 the wall, followed in a moment by another. 
 
 The moon revealed the faces of these men, 
 who carried picks and spades. They were the 
 two rough personages whom Earle and the 
 gypsy had encountered that night bearing the 
 corpse into Westbrooke Hall. 
 
 " This is the place, mate," said one of them ; 
 " it is easily found." 
 
 " By the fresh earth you are right." 
 
 " And now to work ; this job is dangerous." 
 
 "Dangerous?" 
 
 " This is one of the wolves, and I'm told they 
 are sworn to put a knife into whoever disturbs 
 one of 'em." 
 
 " Ough ! I never heard that." 
 
 " It makes the job worth five guineas more." 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 And without further words they proceeded 
 vigorously to work. 
 
 In an hour the coffin responded to the blow 
 of the pick. 
 
 "Take care, mate!" said one, as the dull 
 sound was heard. 
 
 " Eight." 
 
 And proceeding more carefully, they soon 
 
'THE BURIAL OF THE WOLF. 227 
 
 unearthed the long box without noise, and 
 wrenching off the lid, dragged forth the dead 
 body. 
 
 " He's a rough-looking one," muttered the 
 man who lifted the corpse, " and his neck is all 
 swollen." 
 
 " On account of the dog." 
 
 " Hurry up, mate." 
 
 And laying the body on the earth, they pro- 
 ceeded rapidly to fill up the grave again. 
 
 This was soon accomplished, and they then 
 lifted the body over the fence, and bore it on 
 their shoulders down the rough path leading 
 toward the interior. 
 
 In a clump of bushes a small vehicle was 
 waiting. Into this they pushed the corpse as if 
 it were the body of an animal. 
 
 " Come on, mate ; I don't like this job. Seems 
 to me they are a watching of us." 
 
 And the speaker hastily got into the wagon. 
 The other followed, and in a business-like way 
 took his seat on the corpse. 
 
 Then the single horse was whipped up, the 
 vehicle rolled away, and night swallowed it. 
 
 The grave of the wolf had been rifled. "Would 
 the curse descend ? 
 
CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 THE CHASE. 
 
 T was the night succeeding these events. 
 Darkness and storm had rushed down 
 simultaneously on the coast of Pem- 
 brokeshire. 
 
 The surges of St. George's Channel, lashed 
 to fury by the breath of a veritable hurricane, 
 broke in thunder on the jagged reefs and 
 ledges of rock jutting from the water, and 
 died away in the cavernous recesses beneath 
 the great headland near Oldport, like the 
 hoarse bellowing of bulls, or the dull boom of 
 artillery. 
 
 The coast was absolutely deserted. Scarce 
 a light glimmered in Oldport. On the head- 
 land, no beacon light warned barks off the per- 
 ilous reef. The light of the blood-red moon 
 (228) 
 
THE CHASE. 229 
 
 alone, shining through a rift in the black 
 clouds, toward the east, contended with the 
 ebon darkness, and revealed, in their full hor- 
 ror, the foam-capped reefs. 
 
 All at once a sail-boat might have been seen 
 darting toward land. It was a vessel of the 
 smallest size, and careened terribly under the 
 great pressure of canvas. 
 
 Clinging to the single mast was a man 
 wrapped in a dreadnought, and with his hand in 
 his breast. Three other men were on the bark, 
 but they were crouching, pale and sullen. 
 
 " We'll all go to the bottom ! " said one of 
 the men, who seemed to be the owner of the 
 boat. 
 
 " You are paid ! " was the gruff reply of 
 Wilde for he it was who stood erect, clinging 
 to the mast. 
 
 " What's pay if we go down ? "said the sullen 
 one. 
 
 " But we wont ! " 
 
 " Look at that reef ! Down with the helm ! " 
 
 And he started to his feet. 
 
 The vessel grazed a grinning reef, scraped, 
 and darted on. She was a 'mere cork the 
 winds drove her like a dry leaf of autumn over 
 the foaming waves. 
 
230 THE CHASE. 
 
 " If I only arrive," muttered Wilde, " I have 
 my fortune here ! " 
 
 And he clutched a package in his breast, 
 the pocket-book containing the stolen leaf from 
 the register at Martigny. 
 
 " Look ! " suddenly shouted the skipper of the 
 vessel. " There is that devilish craft following 
 us still ! " 
 
 And he pointed to a sail-boat similar to his 
 own, which was darting towards them. 
 
 Wilde uttered a curse. 
 
 " I thought you had got away from her ! " 
 
 " I thought so too ! But there she is, fol- 
 lowed us all the way from the coast of 
 France ! " 
 
 And, knitting his brows, he muttered, 
 
 " A sailor is on board of her ! I believe I'll 
 throw this Englishman overboard, and strike to 
 the craft that's been pursuing us ! " 
 
 Wilde heard the muttered words, and drew 
 a long knife from beneath his coat. 
 
 " Death to the man who touches me ! " he 
 growled, with the accent and "manner of a wild 
 animal. 
 
 " And death to the man who is running us 
 on these reefs to go to the bottom ! " 
 
 As he spoke, the Frenchman drew a knife in 
 
THE CHASE. 231 
 
 his turn, his companions exactly imitated him, 
 and they rushed straight on "Wilde. 
 
 It was too late. 
 
 Before they had reached him where he stood, 
 clinging with his left hand to the mast, a crash 
 like thunder was heard, the bark staggered, and 
 reeled backward. She had run right on a reef, 
 and two of the Frenchmen were hurled over- 
 board. 
 
 As they disappeared, a single cry cut the 
 darkness like a steel blade. An instant after- 
 wards the heads were engulfed and the men 
 dashed to pieces on the jagged rocks. 
 
 The third Frenchman uttered a shout of rage, 
 and struck at Wilde. 
 
 As he did so, his foot slipped. 
 
 An instant afterwards Wilde had seized him 
 and hurled him into the sea. 
 
 The craft grated with harsh thunder on the 
 rocks, and then darted ahead. 
 
 The momentary arrest of her progress had, 
 however, given her pursuers time to gain upon 
 her. 
 
 As she drove on now, the craft following 
 hovered above her, on the summit of a gigantic 
 wave and in the prow a man, wrapped in a 
 cloak, gazed eagerly toward her. 
 
232 THE CHASE. 
 
 " She struck, Captain ! " said one of the 
 men, " and look ! again ! " 
 
 In fact, the sail-boat containing Wilde, had 
 rushed straight on a still more dangerous 
 reef. 
 
 It finished her. The sharp teeth tore her 
 hull to shreds she burst in two, and her mast 
 sunk, dragging the sail like the wing of a 
 wounded sea-bird. Wilde was thrown into the 
 water, and struck out powerfully for the strand, 
 now not two hundred yards distant. 
 
 " He will escape ! " cried the man in the boat 
 in pursuit. 
 
 And without a moment's hesitation he threw 
 off his cloak, and plunged into the boiling 
 waves. 
 
 Then a tremendous contest took place be- 
 tween the adversaries. On one side was enor- 
 mous strength and great skill as a a swimmer ; 
 on the other, equal skill,- if not so much 
 strength, and a burning resolve to reach the 
 man he was in pursuit of, or die. 
 
 The wind howled ; the waves struck them ; 
 the moon was blotted out ; all was darkness. 
 Still Wilde darted on, pursued by Eaiie. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE MYSTEBY OF THE DEAD BODIES. 
 
 IIILE these events were occurring on 
 ^ ie s * orm -l asne( l coast of St. George's 
 Channel, a sombre scene might have 
 been witnessed at Westbrooke Hall. 
 In an apartment of the mansion, furnished 
 with only two or three chairs and a long pine 
 table, Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, clad in his 
 old dressing-gown, with the sleeves rolled up, 
 was dissecting a dead body. 
 
 The corpse was that of the " wolf," carried 
 off from the lonely spot near the sea ; and at the 
 door stood one of the rough persons who had 
 effected the robbery of the grave, thus pro- 
 viding the "subject" which the baronet was 
 engaged in dissecting. 
 
 Sir Murdaugh, with animated movements, 
 
 (233) 
 
234 MYSTERY OF THE DEAD BODIES. 
 
 and an expression of horrible avidity in Iris 
 eyes, cut away at the body: the man gazed at 
 him with interest and a curiosity which was 
 plain in his expression. 
 
 All at once the baronet turned, bloody scalpel 
 in hand, and grinned. His yellow tusks pro- 
 truded frightfully thereupon, and, to speak 
 plainly, he was extremely hideous. 
 
 "Gubbs!" he said. 
 
 The man thus addressed returned, 
 
 " Your honor " 
 
 "This seems a strange way of amusing my- 
 self, Gubbs?" 
 
 As the words were uttered in the tone of an 
 inquiry, the man said, 
 
 " Yes, your honor." 
 
 The baronet grinned again. The occupation 
 in which he was engaged always put him in a 
 good humor. To see the flesh of his dead sub- 
 jects divide at the application of the knife, 
 almost invariably communicated a singular 
 and repulsive cheerfulness to the baronet's 
 expression. 
 
 " You wonder, I suppose, Gubbs," he said, 
 " why I dissect. "Well, suppose I tell you. It 
 is simple, and easily explained. When I was a 
 young man, I acquired a taste for surgery in 
 
MYSTERY OF THE DEAD BODIES. 235 
 
 the great hospitals of Paris. I was poor was 
 then simple Mnrdaugh Westbrooke; studied 
 surgery. Afterwards I had no occasion to 
 enter the fraternity of leg and arm cutters ; but 
 I was as fond as ever of this 1 am fond of 
 it still; and so I amuse myself, you see, 
 Gubbs, in this highly scientific manner." 
 
 The tusks became the most prominent 
 features in the baronet's face as he spoke. 
 His yellow teeth came out too, jagged and 
 awry ; his eyes, bloodshot but glittering with 
 pleasure, rolled in their cavernous sockets. 
 
 " Other men like wine and cards and 
 women," said the baronet, plunging his knife 
 into the body, " I like this ! " 
 
 And with a keen stroke, he cut into the sub- 
 ject, making a clear circular incision which 
 nearly divided it. 
 
 " Every man 'to his taste ! this is mine.'' 
 
 And he eagerly repeated the stroke. As he 
 did so, the knife slipped, and inflicted a slight 
 wound upon his hand. 
 
 " Take care, your honor, " said the man, " I've 
 hearn that was dangerous." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " To cut yourself while you were carving 
 away at one of them." 
 
236 MYSTERY OF THE DEAD BODIES. 
 
 And lie pointed to the body. 
 
 " True, it is sometimes. But a little water 
 will prevent danger." 
 
 And going to a basin he washed his hands 
 and looked at it. 
 
 The knife had punctured the palm and blood 
 exuded. 
 
 " An ugly scratch ! " he muttered, " but no 
 harm can come of it now." 
 
 As he spoke, he bound a handkerchief around 
 the hand, and returned to his work. 
 
 " Anything further to do, to-night, your hon- 
 or ? " said the man. 
 
 "Nothing, but come ba.ck to-morrow." 
 
 All at once hurried steps were heard, and the 
 door was thrown open. 
 
 As it flew back, Wilde rushed in ; his face 
 flushed, his eyes sparkling, his clothes wet and 
 dripping. 
 
 " You have it ! " exclaimed the baronet. 
 
 " Yes, your honor, but I am nearly dead. 
 He that one pursued me ; both boats were 
 wrecked on the reef yonder. I swam ashore, 
 he after me, he clutched me just as I touched 
 land. I stabbed him, and got off in the dark." 
 
 The baronet had scarcely listened. 
 
 " The paper ! " he exclaimed. 
 
MYS7'ERY OF THE DEAD BODIES. 237 
 
 " Here it is, your honor." 
 
 And Wilde drew forth the leaf which he 
 had stolen from the register, the proof of Sir 
 Murdaugh's marriage with Marianne Earle. 
 
CHAPTEE X. 
 
 THE DEN OF THE WOLF. . '? 
 
 |ILDE had accurately narrated what had 
 taken place between himself and Earle. 
 The sailor by almost superhuman ef- 
 forts had succeeded in coming up with 
 his opponent just as Wilde emerged half dead 
 with cold and exhaustion from the blinding 
 surf ; had grappled with him, intent alone on 
 arresting his further progress ; and the power- 
 ful gamekeeper thus assailed by his mortal 
 foe, had just strength enough to draw his knife 
 and strike at Earle as the latter clutched him. 
 The knife passed through the fleshy part of 
 the sailor's arm, and inflicted a painful wound. 
 It was far from disabling him however, and 
 it was the darkness alone which saved Wilde. 
 He tore away from Earle as he struck, push- 
 (238) 
 
THE DEN OF THE WOLF. 239 
 
 ing back his opponent as he did so ; then, with 
 a single bound, he disappeared in the gloom, 
 running rapidly over the sandy shore, which 
 gave back no sound, and enabled him to evade 
 his pursuer. 
 
 Earle had rushed after him, but all was in 
 vain. Wilde had vanished, and no sound indi- 
 cated the direction in which he had gone. In 
 ten minutes the sailor gave up the pursuit, and 
 stopped, panting and nearly exhausted from the 
 blood which he had lost from his wound. 
 
 He looked around him.- All was dark. A 
 few lights glimmered in the village of Oldport. 
 He dared not venture there in his full uniform 
 of a captain in the French navy ; and looking 
 for the bark which had brought him, he could 
 nowhere discover it. 
 
 "One thing only is left," he muttered, "to 
 go to my mother." 
 
 And traversing the surge-lashed shore, along 
 the edge of the water, he reached the narrow 
 path running along the ledge of rocks then 
 that which wound up the preipice to the hut of 
 the recluse. 
 
 No one but a sailor, sure-footed and accus- 
 toned to work with hands and feet in the dark, 
 could have found his way safely up the dizzy 
 
240 THE DEN OF THE WOLF. 
 
 path toward the summit. More than once he 
 passed near the very brink of the precipice; 
 a step out of the pathway, would have hurled 
 him a thousand feet down into the boiling 
 abyss. But he went on safely. No chamois 
 could have traversed the narrow way more 
 rapidly and surely. Soon he reached the last 
 and most dangerous point ; passed it ; reached 
 the summit, and hastened to the hut of the 
 recluse. 
 
 No light was visible. The spot seemed de- 
 serted. 
 
 Earle struck the door with his clenched hand. 
 It flew open, but within all was darkness and 
 silence. 
 
 He entered. A strange sinking of the heart 
 suddenly assailed him. Where was his moth- 
 er ? Why this darkness and silence, instead of 
 her smile and warm greeting ? 
 
 He went toward the narrow bed, and felt for 
 his mother there. She might be asleep. 
 
 The bed was vacant. The cold pillow was 
 round and unpressed. 
 
 She was gone ! 
 
 Earle sat down, faint in body and mind. A 
 sombre foreboding siezed upon him. What was 
 the origin of this absence ? 
 
THE DEN OF THE WOLF. 241 
 
 Suddenly he rose with a hoarse cry. 
 
 " That man ! that wretch ! He has proba- 
 bly murdered her! He has discovered her! 
 He came here, I now remember, in search of 
 me ! He sent to France to steal that proof of 
 his marriage ! He has secured both obstacles 
 to his new marriage, the record, and the per- 
 son of the first wife ! " 
 
 Earle pressed both hands to his forehead, and 
 staggered. 
 
 "What should he do ? 
 
 With weak and uncertain steps, but a wild 
 excitement in his breast, he tottered out of the 
 hut, went toward the precipice, traversed the 
 dizzy brink with the instinct of a blind man, de- 
 scended the path, reached the shore, then, 
 scarce knowing what he did, he staggered on 
 toward the village. 
 
 All at once there rose before him in the dark- 
 ness a weird-looking object. 
 
 It was the hull of a wrecked vessel, turned 
 upward and fitted up as a rude dwelling. A 
 ray of moonlight as red as blood enabled him 
 to make out its surroundings. These were nets, 
 an old anchor, a coil of rope, and an old buoy. 
 The door was a hole scarce large enough for a 
 man to crawl into. It was open now, and Earle 
 16 
 
242 THE DEN OF THE WOLF. 
 
 saw crouching over a few embers, a gigantic 
 figure. 
 
 Something in this figure struck him as famil- 
 iar. He tottered forward and looked in. The 
 figure raised its head. By the glimmer of the 
 embers Earle recognized Goliath. 
 
 The next moment he staggered to the door- 
 way, uttered a low cry, and fell forward into 
 the arms of the chief of the wolves, who had 
 recognized him, and drew him into his rude 
 dwelling, radiant with joy at his return. 
 
 " You be come up out of the foam, master ! " 
 
 Earle tried to reply, but fainted. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 [N an upper room of Westbrooke Hall, 
 difficult of access, and almost unsuspect- 
 ed, so carefully was it concealed by jut- 
 ting gables and angles, sat the recluse 
 whom we left in her hut on the headland, when 
 Earle set out for Maverick House. 
 
 Two days before, she had been kidnapped. 
 This was very simply effected. The man 
 Gubbs, in the absence of Wilde, the baronet's 
 factotum, undertook the affair, went thither af- 
 ter midnight, simply seized and gagged the sol- 
 itary woman, forced her to enter a light car- 
 riage, and then drove off swiftly through wood- 
 land by-roads to Westbrooke Hall, which they 
 reached before daylight. 
 
 The recluse was then conducted to the apart* 
 
 (343) 
 
244 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 ment which we have spoken of above ; the door 
 was locked upon her ; she was left to her reflec- 
 tions ; and, whilst still engaged in this occupa- 
 tion, Sir Murdaugh had entered. 
 
 "Welcome to Westbrooke Hall, your lady- 
 ship ! " was his ironical greeting. " Can I do 
 aught to render your sojourn here more agree- 
 "able ? If the servants exhibit any neglect, pray 
 inform me of the fact, Charmed to see you, 
 my dear madam, really charmed, upon my 
 word!" 
 
 The recluse looked at him coldly. There 
 was not a particle of nervous trepidation in her 
 expression. 
 
 " You do not reply, my lady. Pray honor 
 me with a few words: your voice invariably 
 charms me." 
 
 " I do not reply because I have none to make, 
 sir," said the woman, with entire calmness. 
 " What response is necessary to an outrage 
 like this?" 
 
 " An outrage, madam ? " 
 
 " Is it not an outrage to send a wretch , 
 in your pay to seize an unprotected woman 
 and to drag her off thus to a place of conceal- 
 ment 3 " 
 
 " Well, it is irregular." 
 
KIDNAPPED. 245 
 
 The baronet grinned and was evidently enjoy- 
 ing himself. 
 
 "Your object?" 
 
 " Well, shall I be frank with you, madam ? " 
 
 " If you can." 
 
 " Shall I tell you my first plan, or my 
 second ? " 
 
 "Speak!" 
 
 "First, I thought I would well, would 
 murder you, my dear madam. That is an ugly 
 word, but you may retort that it suits me. Per- 
 haps it does. I am not a beauty, and my life, 
 tried by a strictly moral standard, may not be 
 beautiful morally. Yes ! I thought I would get 
 rid of you." 
 
 "Why have you not done so, then?" was the 
 cold inquiry. 
 
 The baronet's face grew dark. 
 
 " It is not too late," he said in a threatening 
 tone ; " beware how you defy me." 
 
 " Defy you ? Do you suppose I am afraid of 
 you? No! do as you will. Yes! I do defy 
 you." 
 
 And the woman rose to her full height. 
 
 "I never feared you," she said, looking at 
 him with superb scorn in her eyes. "I fled 
 from you to rescue a child from your poisonous 
 
246 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 association. That child is safe from you now. 
 You cannot harm him, for he knows you. As 
 to me, what care f, think you ? Nothing." 
 
 And she sat down again. 
 
 The baronet scowled at her with sudden 
 wrath. Then this changed to a sneer. 
 
 " Good, good ! " he said ; " the same spirit that 
 used to blaze out in Marianne Earle, twenty 
 years ago. Ah ! you look at me with your 
 fine disdain. You would say that I provoked 
 you then. Well, so be it; let that go. I am 
 here to speak of the present and future your 
 future. I will do so very briefly, madam. I 
 brought you here intending to get rid of you, if 
 necessary. It is not necessary. I will simply 
 send you to St. Domingo. My good servitor, 
 "Wilde, who is known to you, will accompany 
 your ladyship. He is absent now on important 
 business, but will soon return. Then I will call 
 on madam again." 
 
 And sneering, he went out abruptly. 
 
CHAPTEK XII. 
 
 MASTER AND MAN. 
 
 ITCH were the events which had occurred 
 during the brief absence of Earle and 
 Wilde. 
 
 We left the baronet and this latter 
 worthy in the apartment containing the corpse, 
 the eyes of Sir Murdaugh fixed joyfully on the 
 paper which Wilde had brought him. 
 
 "At last I have it," he exclaimed. "From 
 this moment I am safe." 
 
 Wilde glanced sidewise at the man, Gubbs, 
 and the baronet nodded. 
 
 "You can go now," he said to the man, who 
 at once left the apartment. 
 
 "And now to business, Wilde," added the 
 baronet. "Much has been done in your ab- 
 sence." 
 
 (247) 
 
248 MASTER AND MAN. 
 
 "What, your honor?" 
 
 " That woman is here, a prisoner in this house. 
 But, before I speak further of this, tell me all 
 about your journey." 
 
 " That I will do in few words, sir." 
 
 And Wilde narrated every thing, concluding 
 with the scene which had occurred on the beach. 
 
 "That man is an incarnate devil," growled 
 the baronet. "He is ever on my track. Not 
 content with denouncing me as a murderer, he 
 is now here again to thwart and endanger me." 
 
 " There is but one thing left your honor," said 
 Wilde in a low tone. 
 
 The baronet looked at him intently. 
 
 " I understand you yes," he said. 
 
 Compact of murder was never made more 
 clearly in fewer words. But the baronet 
 seemed determined that there should be no 
 doubt whatever. 
 
 " That man must die, Wilde ; no mincing of 
 words. We have gone too far to recede." 
 
 The words were uttered in a whisper. 
 
 " The thing is plain, sir," was the reply in the 
 same tone ; " while he is 'alive, you are in dan- 
 ger, to say nothing of me. I don't intend to 
 rest. Give your orders, sir. They shall be 
 obeyed." 
 
MASTER AND MAN. 249 
 
 The baronet sat down, and gazed at the floor. 
 " Where is he ? " he said suddenly ; " since 
 you stabbed him, he must be near Oldport. 
 "Was the wound dangerous \ " 
 
 " Only in the flesh of the arm." 
 
 " That is nothing ! Act promptly. Go and 
 look for him to-night! This is all the more 
 necessary, as he will come quickly to look for 
 us!" 
 
 " I understand, sir." 
 
 " She is here ! He will be on our track, 
 since he must suspect me of the abduction." 
 
 Wilde buttoned up his wet coat. 
 
 " I will take Gubbs, and hunt him to-night, 
 sir." 
 
 " Do so, and return before daylight. Things 
 are hurrying in many ways, Wilde. Listen ! I 
 am to be married in eight days. In three days 
 that woman must be out of England. If in 
 twenty-four hours he is dead we are safe, and 
 you will have earned one thousand pounds. If 
 he lives the gallows ! I am rich and in- 
 fluential, and may escape. You are poor and 
 nobody you will hang ! Go, now ! You 
 may find him in some corner, fainting and 
 weak from loss of blood. You are a man of 
 decision; you will not neglect that chance. 
 
250 
 
 MASTER AND MAN. 
 
 Go, go ! His death secures everything. Whilst 
 he lives, listen, Wilde, the halter is around 
 your neck ! " 
 
 " And yours ! " muttered the Hercules as he 
 hastened from the apartment. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A TIGBESS. 
 
 S Wilde disappeared, the baronet fixed 
 his eyes with avidity upon the paper in 
 his hand. 
 
 The actual entry I " he muttered ; 
 " Murdaugh Westbrooke to Marianne Earle, 
 Martigny, April 17 , signed by Father Am- 
 brose ; all in due form ! Decidedly, "Wilde is a 
 cool hand, and has effected all I hoped for. 
 Now to action ! But first to enjoy my little 
 treat ! " 
 
 He went out quickly, and ascending the 
 broad staircase, took a key from his pocket and 
 opened a door. Before him, in a bare apart- 
 ment, sat the recluse, pale but calm. 
 
 "I have come to call on you, madam," he 
 said, grinning. 
 
 (251) 
 
252 A TIGRESS. 
 
 The recluse coldly inclined her head. 
 
 " I have an interesting communication to 
 make, madam." 
 
 The recluse gazed at Jrim intently, but made 
 no reply. 
 
 "Your ladyship is silent this evening, but 
 no matter. I will talk myself. And first, I 
 beg to call your ladyship's attention to the 
 fact that this is the record of our marriage in 
 the village of Martigny brought for my 
 private perusal by our mutual acquaintance, 
 Mr. Wilde." 
 
 The baronet watched her closely. At these 
 words she turned suddenly pale. 
 
 " Doubtless a copy, sir ! " she said, coldly, 
 but with a sudden, eager glance. 
 
 The baronet burst out laughing. It was a 
 sombre and ghastly sound. . 
 
 " A copy ? By no means, madam. The orig- 
 inal paper ! I was too intelligent to care for 
 a copy. I wished to feast my eyes upon the 
 sole and only evidence of our connubial 
 bliss! What cared I for a copy? What I 
 wanted was the actual sheet from the record, 
 signed by the priest : here it is ; and from this 
 moment there is no proof whatever of our mar- 
 riage." 
 
A TIGRESS. 253 
 
 The recluse was pale, but her calmness had 
 returned. 
 
 "So you are bent on destroying all proof 
 that I am Lady Westbrooke ? " 
 
 The baronet bowed and said ironically, 
 
 " Madam is intelligent." 
 
 " You design marrying again ? " 
 
 " I do, madam." 
 
 " To commit bigamy ? " 
 
 " There is no bigamy where proof does not 
 exist of a former marriage." 
 
 The reclnse made no reply. With her eyes 
 fixed intently upon the baronet, she seemed to 
 listen coldly. 
 
 " Why make so much ado, my dear madam," 
 he said, with a sombre grin. " Are we so much 
 devoted to each other that we cannot bear to 
 ignore that former union ? Was it of hearts 
 or hands only ? ' I think it was merely the hand. 
 Well, I count that a sin. I design to unite my- 
 self now to a young creature who loves me ? " 
 
 No reply came from the recluse. The bar- 
 onet went on : 
 
 " Shall I tell you of my little affair ? The 
 fair one is called Ellinor Maverick. She is ex- 
 ceedingly handsome much more handsome, 
 I must say, than you ever were ; and she marries 
 
254 A TIGRESS. 
 
 me in defiance of the whole respectable Maver- 
 ick family." 
 
 The recluse had never removed her eyes 
 from the face of the baronet. 
 
 " Does she know that you have one wife liv- 
 ing ? " she said, calmly. 
 
 The words brought to the baronet's face the 
 eternal grin. 
 
 " I must confess she does not, madam ! 
 She is a tender lamb led to the slaughter. I 
 am a monster, you perhaps think, and I confess 
 I am not a saint. Bnt in this case the lamb is 
 tough ! Miss Maverick weds me for my estate, 
 not from the sympathetic impulse of her maiden 
 heart ! She calculates she does not gush 
 out ! I am Sir Ten Thousand a Year, rather 
 than Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke; and a few 
 little charges which have been brought against 
 me have had 110 influence on the sweet charmer 
 she is still determined to marry me." 
 
 "And you will ruin this young woman be- 
 cause she is worldly and ambitious ? " 
 
 " Ruin her, madam ? not at all ? How shall 
 I ruin her ? " 
 
 The recluse pointed coldly toward the paper 
 in his hand. 
 
 " Still harping upon this ! " the baronet said 
 
A TIGRESS. . 255 
 
 with a grin. " I will show you how I remove 
 that little difficulty in the simplest manner, 
 madam ? " 
 
 He caught the paper with both hands, and 
 was about to tear it in pieces. 
 
 " Forbear ! " cried the recluse, suddenly ris- 
 ing and confronting him. 
 
 " Forbear what ? " he growled. 
 
 "From the commission of the crime you 
 meditate ! " his companion said, with flushed 
 cheeks. " It is your soul's salvation you im- 
 peril ! I do not speak of the offence against 
 law ! Think, unhappy old man ! for you 
 are old now, as I am, think, God has for- 
 bidden this. You sin wilfully against his com- 
 mandments ! Stop now, on the threshold ! 
 repent ! a poor sinner urges that ! Abandon 
 this scheme ! remember that your lawful 
 wife still lives ! Give me the paper ! " 
 
 And before he divined her intention, she 
 grasped the paper and tore it from him. 
 
 The baronet uttered an enraged cry and 
 said, 
 
 " Beware ! give me back that writing ! " 
 
 " It is mine equally since it is the record 
 of my marriage ! " she exclaimed, recoiling, and 
 thrusting the paper into her bosom. 
 
256 A TIGRESS. 
 
 " Give me the writing !" 
 
 And he seized her by the wrist, with a 
 grasp of iron. 
 
 " Release me, sir ! " 
 
 " Give me the paper ! " 
 
 "I will not!" 
 
 He seized her by the throat. 
 
 " The paper or you are dead ! " 
 
 The hand grasped the white throat more 
 furiously. 
 
 u Kill me, then ! you may take it from my 
 dead body I will never surrender it ! " 
 
 He tore open her dress, and drew the paper 
 from its hiding-place. 
 
 "Coward!" she exclaimed, as he did so; 
 " wretch, to outrage me thus ! to lay the 
 hand of violence where you once laid your 
 head ! Oh ! I could tear the very flesh 
 which was so profaned once ! coward ! " 
 
 And with flaming eyes she confronted him, 
 eyes full of superb wrath. 
 
 " Insult, outrage, murder me if you will ! " 
 she cried, in her rage and scorn. " There is 
 one person who is safe from you your 
 child ! whom you aimed to murder ! un- 
 natural and monstrous ! Of what race do you 
 
A TIGRESS. 257 
 
 come ? You would . slay your own child ! 
 but he at least is safe from you ! " 
 
 The baronet had retreated a step as she con- 
 fronted him with blazing eyes. In spite of 
 himself, he shrunk before the scorn of his 
 companion. Now, however, his sneer returned 
 
 the ghastly grin distorted his ugly mouth. 
 
 " Ah ! you think that whelp is safe^ do you, 
 madam ? You are mistaken. Wilde stabbed 
 him to-night ! " 
 
 " You lie he is in France ! " 
 
 " I do not lie, madam he is in Pem- 
 brokeshire." 
 
 The woman looked at him; as she did so 
 the flush died out of her cheeks. 
 
 " Where is he ? " 
 
 " I will not tell you I " 
 
 She trembled. 
 
 " For pity's sake ! " 
 
 And suddenly submissive she clasped her 
 hands. 
 
 "Do not harm him! He has not wronged 
 you ! Why do you thus hate him ? " 
 
 " Because he hates me, and will destroy me 
 
 if I do not destroy him ! Cease your prayers, 
 then they are vain ! His doom is sealed 
 Wilde is now tracking him ! " 
 
 17 
 
258 A TIGRESS. 
 
 "That wretch? Oh, it is infamous! He 
 will murder him ! Let me go and save him ! " 
 
 The baronet thrust her back violently, and 
 went toward the door. 
 
 " It is too late ! he is doomed ! " 
 
 And he reached the door and opened it. 
 
 Suddenly the woman threw herself upon 
 him, and seized his throat with both hands. 
 
 " Give me my child ! " she cried, with the 
 rage of a tigress robbed of her young. 
 
 His reply was to hurl her from him, and she 
 fell at full length on the floor. A moment 
 afterwards the baronet had passed through the 
 door and closed and locked it. 
 
 As the key turned in the lock, the door 
 shook under the grasp of the poor mother. 
 
 " My child ! my child ! Give me my child ! " 
 she moaned, shaking the door. 
 
 A laugh replied ; and the baronet's footsteps 
 receded. A moment afterwards a body fell 
 heavily in the apartment which he had left. 
 
 The recluse had fainted. 
 
CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 THE INTRUDER. 
 
 R MUEDAUGH WESTBEOOKE de- 
 scended to his sitting-room. 
 
 The grin had disappeared from his 
 lips and there was no longer the former 
 expression of hideous triumph in his eyes. 
 
 He sat down, and gazed for fully a quarter of 
 an hour into the, fire, which was dying down 
 now. 
 
 " How will this end ? " he muttered. " I am 
 knee-deep in blood, and am going in waist- 
 deep! Am I then a wretch unable to with- 
 hold myself from crime? Why do I venture 
 on this marriage. Why do I plan that boy's 
 destruction? Is the Devil my prompter? 
 Doubtless, since he has just made me outrage 
 
 (259) 
 
260 THE INTRUDER. 
 
 a woman cut her to the heart inflict per- 
 sonal violence upon her ! " 
 
 He knit his brow, and his lips writhed. 
 
 " I am a lost soul, I think ! " 
 
 And he rose to his feet. 
 
 " She cowed me yonder to-night when yes, I 
 was a coward to outrage that bosom ! It was 
 Marianne Earle's once I loved her have 
 never loved any one else! Yes, yes, I was a 
 coward ! And I aim to prove myself a worse 
 coward still ! " 
 
 He looked at the paper which he held in his 
 hand. "Marianne Earle, Martigny, April 17, 
 ," seemed burnt in flame upon it. 
 
 " She was beautiful then ! the only dream 
 of my life ! " he muttered. I loved her could 
 have died for her for six months!" he added, 
 with a cruel sneer. 
 
 And leaning against the tall carved mantel- 
 piece, he pondered, his face gradually growing 
 dark. 
 
 " No ! it is too late to recede and to defy 
 that boy Arthur is delicious ! This marriage is 
 necessary it removes suspicion ! It ties their 
 hands, for I will be the husband of Ellinor Mav- 
 erick, their own blood ! Then then, with 
 this woman and that other enemy gotten rid of 
 
THE INTRUDER. 261 
 
 with no fears any longer, and the failing 
 health of the Viscount Cecil to count on ! " 
 
 He slowly tore the paper in pieces and threw 
 it into the fire. 
 
 " The die is cast ! " he muttered ; " my senti- 
 mental mood is over ! Sentiment for me ! I 
 was an innocent man once, now I am what ? 
 "What have I to do with sentiment? Can the 
 wolf that is hunted find time to snivel and wipe 
 his eyes ? Away with such imbecility ! I am 
 a man again, and will ride over all enemies. 
 Aid me, Devil ! if there be a Devil ! " 
 
 And, with a face distorted into a hideous grin, 
 the baronet took from the table the only light 
 in the apartment, slowly crossed the drawing- 
 room, opened and passed through the door, 
 and then his steps were heard slowly ascending 
 the staircase. 
 
 Ten minutes after his disappearance, a slight 
 sound might have been heard at the rear win- 
 dow. 
 
 This window opened, as the reader will 
 remember, directly on the park ; and for more 
 than a half an hour a man standing on -the 
 ledge beneath it had been watching the baronet, 
 his eyes on a level with the window-sill. 
 
 As the figure of the baronet disappeared now, 
 
262 THE INTRUDER. 
 
 a dusky arm suddenly rose from without. As 
 the arm rose, the moon came out, and revealed a 
 man's head and shoulders above the sill. Then 
 the hand stealthily passed through a broken 
 pane in the window the bolt was silently shot 
 back a moment afterwards the sash was 
 raised and, silent as a shadow, the man stood 
 in the room. 
 
 It was the gypsy : his countenance expressed 
 mingled curiosity and apprehension. The 
 swarthy face was plain in a vagrant gleam from 
 the dying fire, and toward the fire he now moved 
 with a cautious and stealthy step. 
 
 " That paper ! why did he look at it so 
 closely and then tear it?" muttered the 
 gypsy. " I see it is not burned only one of the 
 pieces is destroyed ! ' 
 
 He stooped and raised the fragments, joining 
 them together, and closely scanning them. 
 
 " Murdaugh Westbrooke Marianne Earle ; 
 Martigny. Why this is a marriage record ! " he 
 murmured. " And to think that the good Sir 
 Murdaugh has already been married ! " 
 
 He looked again at the paper. The name of 
 the woman seemed to strike him for the first 
 time. 
 
 " Marianne Earle ! " he said, knitting his 
 
THE INTRUDER. 263 
 
 brows, and evidently lost in reflection, " Mari- 
 anne Earle! Earle! there is some mystery 
 here ! " 
 
 And his quick mind went back to his associa- 
 tion with the sailor. Twice he had heard Earle 
 repeat his own name, once when carrying off 
 the viscount, in reply to a question from the 
 nobleman, and again during the interview with 
 Arthur Maverick on the night of his escape. 
 
 " Earle ! " he muttered ; " this baronet married 
 Marianne Earle, then ! Who was she ? was she 
 related to him my brother of the Rommanye 
 Eye 2" 
 
 His eyes distended suddenly. The vaga- 
 bond's enormous acuteness had placed him on 
 the track of the mystery. The woman on the 
 headland was Earle's mother. He had divined 
 that when he went to warn Earle on that last 
 night of his stay in Pembrokeshire. 
 
 " Aha ! Here is something ! " he muttered. 
 " It will pay better even than my knowledge of 
 the murderer of Giles Maverick ! I am lucky ! 
 I came for the baronet's silver: I find out 
 something far more valuable than silver, I 
 think." 
 
 And folding up the pieces of paper, he 
 placed them carefully in his ragged pocket. 
 
264: THE INTRUDER. 
 
 Then he looked around warily. There was 
 no silver of any description visible. 
 
 " The skinflint ! " he muttered, with a grim- 
 ace; "not to leave a spoon, even, for a poor 
 
 gypsy ! " 
 
 "With stealthy steps he went toward the door 
 which opened on the hall. Not a sound was 
 heard in the funereal mansion but the measured 
 ticking of an enormous clock, which rose, ghost- 
 like, in the corner of the hall. 
 
 " Shall I venture farther ? It is dangerous, 
 but I will try it. I may find something," he 
 muttered. 
 
 The gypsy placed his foot upon the staircase. 
 In the darkness he had not seen the door lead- 
 ing into the room containing the corpse. The 
 terrible odor, however, filled the air, and for an 
 instant his heart failed him. 
 
 " What devilish smell is that ? " he mur- 
 mured. " I had best get out of this place." 
 
 He turned to go back, but at that moment a 
 stifled groan reached his ears. It died away, 
 then was repetead, then died away again. 
 
 The gypsy was even more curious, by nature, 
 than cautious of- his personal safety. The 
 muffled sounds roused his -curiosity to the 
 highest pitch. 
 
THE INTRUDER. 265 
 
 " Something horrible is going on here ! " he 
 said, in a low voice. " Shall I try to find what 
 it means? I can gain the window again in 
 two minutes, and neither Wilde nor his hounds 
 are here to follow me ! " 
 
 He placed his foot once more on the stair: 
 the solid oak did not creak. The second step 
 was as firm ; and, rapid and noiseless as a cat, 
 the gypsy reached the second floor. 
 
 As he did so the groans were again heard, 
 apparently from an apartment at the end of a 
 dark side passage. The moonlight half-illu- 
 mined the corridor ; he stealthily glided toward 
 the sound. 
 
 It grew plainer as he advanced. He reached 
 the door from behind which it issued, and, 
 stooping down, applied his eye to the keyhole in 
 which the key had been left. 
 
 What he saw made him hold his breath for 
 a moment. 
 
 A woman, clad in a dark dress, was kneeling 
 and praying, with clasped hands, and eyes 
 raised to heaven. A ray of moonlight fell 
 upon her face. The gypsy recognized the 
 mother of Earle. 
 
 For a moment his heart stood still. A vague 
 idea of the truth came to him. The woman 
 
266 THE INTRUDER. 
 
 was a prisoner Earle's mother. Was she the 
 Marianne Earle of the marriage record ? 
 
 The gypsy's face flushed hot, and, turning his 
 head, he listened. The stifled groans were only 
 heard as the poor woman prayed. 
 
 " Now, or never, if I mean to act as Ms 
 friend ! " he said to himself. 
 
 And silently unlocking the door, he stood be- 
 fore the woman. 
 
 She uttered a low exclamation, and shrunk 
 back as he approached. 
 
 " Hush ! " he whispered, " I am a friend, I 
 will take you to your son. Listen ! His name is 
 Edmond Earle. It was I who came to warn 
 him, you remember, of the baronet's pursuit of 
 him. I understand all. You are a prisoner 
 here. Come with me and make no noise." 
 
 She had listened with a nervous tremor in 
 her frame, but this suddenly ceased. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I feel that you are a friend. Let 
 us hasten to leave this place." 
 
 "Come, then!" 
 
 And the gypsy rapidly led the way from the 
 room to the corridor. 
 
 " Make haste now ! " he whispered. " The 
 baronet has not yet retired. There is his cham- 
 
THE INTRUDER. 267 
 
 ber. See the glimmer of the light through the 
 keyhole!" 
 
 Suddenly the voice of the baronet cried, 
 
 " Who is there ? Who is stirring ? " 
 
 " Run ! Make haste down the stairs ! " ex- 
 claimed the gypsy. 
 
 And he pushed the woman toward the stair- 
 case. 
 
 Her foot had scarce touched the top step 
 when Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke's door opened 
 violently. 
 
 " Who is there ? " he shouted, raising a heavy 
 pistol, cocked and ready. 
 
 The gypsy's reply was prompt. lie threw 
 himself upon the baronet and hurled him 
 back, knocking up the weapon just as the re- 
 port of the pistol rang out. 
 
 A moment afterwards he had wrenched it 
 from the baronet, and dealt him a heavy blow 
 in the face. Then he gained the door at 
 one bound ; closed it violently and turned the 
 key in the lock ; hastily descended the stairs ; 
 and taking the woman by the arm, drew her 
 quickly to the window, through which he as- 
 sisted her to pass, just as the sleepy and 
 frightened servants rushed in to find the mean- 
 ing of the pistol-shot. 
 
268 THE INTRUDER. 
 
 Once in the park, the gypsy cried, 
 
 "To the woods! to the woods!" 
 
 'But my son! where is my son!" 
 
 " He is in France." 
 
 " God be thanked I " she exclaimed. " Then 
 that wretch wilfully lied ! He is safe ! Then 
 all is well." 
 
 And she followed the gypsy, who hastened 
 on. 
 
 In ten minutes the shadows of the forest 
 had swallowed the two figures. 
 
CHAPTER XY. 
 
 THE RIFLED GRAVE. 
 
 iE left Earle in the den of the chief of 
 the wolves. 
 
 "You be come up out of the foam, 
 master ! " the gigantic Goliath had ex- 
 claimed ; whereupon, overcome by weakness 
 from the wound in his arm, and exhaustion, 
 Earle had fainted. 
 
 "Wlien he opened his eyes the giant was 
 bending over and bandaging his arm. He 
 performed this office with rough tenderness, 
 and as the young man looked up, said, in gut- 
 tural tones, 
 
 "You be safe here, master ! " 
 " Ah ! " murmured Earle. 
 "You be French the nag you run out 
 when they fired on you told that ; but French 
 
 (269) 
 
270 THE RIFLED GRAVE. 
 
 or no French, you be a wolf, and you be safe 
 here." 
 
 Earle quietly extended his hand 'and grasped 
 the huge paw of the wolf. 
 
 " Thanks ! " he said. " Yes, I need a refuge, 
 and your help ! " 
 
 "My help?" 
 
 " The help of the wolves, perchance the 
 whole fraternity. I will tell you more of that." 
 
 And rising slowly to his feet, he looked 
 through the low port-hole serving as a window, 
 arid said, 
 
 " Is it near daylight, brother ? " 
 
 The reply of the wolf was, that it was scarce 
 midnight. 
 
 " Then I will sleep : wake me at daylight ! " 
 said Earle. 
 
 And stretching himself before the fire, he 
 fell asleep almost instantly. 
 
 The giant gazed at him for some moments 
 with a strange expression of solicitude on his 
 face; sat down on a rough stool, having first 
 hung an old blanket before the door; and 
 soon the nods of his huge head indicated that 
 he too slumbered. 
 
 It was long hours after midnight, when all 
 at once the gigantic Goliath stirred and mut- 
 
THE RIFLED GRAVE. 271 
 
 tered in his sleep. The vague sense of im- 
 pending peril seemed to render him uneasy. 
 
 Suddenly the influence appeared to master 
 him, and he rose quickly, and went to the door. 
 
 As he did so, two shadows which had hov- 
 ered near the port-hole window, shrunk back 
 into the darkness behind the overturned hull, 
 and all was quiet. 
 
 Goliath muttered some guttural words, shook 
 his head, and returned to his stool. With a 
 glance at Earle, on whose face the glimmering 
 light of the embers fell, he kicked the brands 
 together, wrapped an old pea-jacket around 
 him, and in a few minutes was nodding, sound 
 asleep, beside his companion. 
 
 For half an hour nearly, the silence remained 
 unbroken save by the whistle of the wind, 
 and the long roll of the surf, falling with 
 monotonous beat upon the sands. Then cautious 
 steps might have been heard two figures em- 
 erged from the shadows of the hull, and one of 
 these figures, placing his eye at a crevice, mut- 
 tered, 
 
 " It is our man ! " 
 
 For more than a minute he remained silent 
 and motionless, with his hand extended warn- 
 ingly toward his companion behind him. 
 
272 THE RIFLED GRAVE. 
 
 Then he drew a pistol from his breast, and 
 directed the muzzle toward Earle. 
 
 His companion pulled him back almost vio- 
 lently. 
 
 " You will get yourself and me killed ! " he 
 said, in a hurried whisper. 
 
 " Killed ? " said the man, impatiently. 
 
 " The wolves will swarm at the sound of 
 your shot ! " 
 
 And Gubbs for it was that worthy looked 
 at Wilde with horror-struck eyes. 
 
 "You don't know 'em the wolves," added 
 Gubbs, in the same hurried whisper. " They 
 sleep with one eye open ; and this man is one 
 of them, you know, Wilde," 
 
 " Yes, curse him ! " growled Wilde, lowering 
 his pistol, u you are right." 
 
 Goliath started and rose to his feet. 
 
 " I swear I heard something," he cried, draw- 
 ing a long knife. 
 
 The movement was followed by the unmis- 
 takable sound of steps retreating rapidly. Go- 
 liath rushed from the hut; but only in time to 
 see two shadows disappear behind some bushes. 
 
 He darted on their track ; reached the bushes, 
 and stopped to listen for a moment not a 
 sound. The mysterious figures had vanished, 
 
THE RIFLED GRAVE. 273 
 
 and with, muttered imprecations Goliath turned 
 back. 
 
 He saw Earle coming to meet him. 
 
 " What is the matter, brother ? " said the sailor. 
 
 In a few words, Goliath informed him of this 
 incident. 
 
 Earle reflected with a knit brow, for an in- 
 stant. 
 
 " Those men were sent here to murder me, 
 brother," he said, " but their hearts failed them ; 
 we are safe at present. ISow for other matters. 
 Is it near day ? " 
 
 The giant pointed to a yellow streak in the 
 east. 
 
 Earle nodded. 
 
 " Come, then, brother. A sailor's first thought 
 is of his craft. I wish to mount that height 
 yonder, and look out for the sail-boat that 
 brought me last night." 
 
 " Right, master ! You be a sailor true. If 
 she be wrecked " 
 
 "I shall see her. If she rode through the 
 storm, I shall see her.' 
 
 And he led the way toward the height. 
 
 " When that is done, we will talk, brother," 
 he said, walking slowly and painfully. " See, 
 we mount ! we will soon arrive. 
 18 
 
274: THE RIFLED GRAVE. 
 
 And lie went on, followed by Goliath, and 
 finally reached the summit of the height. 
 
 It was the wild and lonely spot used as a 
 place of sepulture for the dead wolves. The 
 rough wall of piled-up rock was clearly seen in 
 the gray light of dawn ; and mounting to the 
 top, Earle gazed out on the channel, from which 
 the mists were slowly rising. As he did so, the 
 sun rose, and the curtain of vapor was swept 
 away as if by enchantment. 
 
 The sailor uttered an exclamation. 
 
 " Look ! there she is, brother ; she is making 
 for the coast -of France." 
 
 In fact the sail-boat, which had brought 
 Earle, known easily by her peculiar rigging, 
 was seen scudding before a fresh breeze in the 
 offing, toward the south. 
 
 The gigantic Goliath had heard the excla- 
 mation of his companion, but had made no 
 reply. 
 
 Earle looked round. Goliath was crouching 
 over the rifled grave of the wolf whom he had 
 assisted in burying. 
 
 " What is the matter, brother ? " said Earle. 
 
 Goliath uttered the growl of a wild animal, 
 and seized a board wliich protruded from the 
 hastily filled grave. 
 
THE RIFLED GRAVE. 275 
 
 " This be the matter, master," he muttered in 
 a low and fierce tone. 
 
 And exerting his herculean strength, he 
 dragged the entire end of the coffin from the 
 grave. It was empty. 
 
 " Look ! " said the wolf. " We buried him, 
 and his grave be robbed." 
 
 As he spoke, he bounded toward the wall. 
 A part of the shroud had been torn torn off by 
 a sharp fragment. 
 
 " They went this way," he growled. 
 
 And following the foot-prints rapidly, he 
 reached the spot where the wagon had waited. 
 Here the footprints stopped, and nothing was 
 left but to follow the marks of the wheels, and 
 the horse's feet. 
 
 These led towards Westbrooke Hall, and Go- 
 liath was about to hasten in the direction thus 
 indicated, when the hand of Earle was laid on 
 his shoulder, and the sailor said, 
 
 " A moment, brother." 
 
 The giant turned impatiently. 
 
 u I be on the track woe, to the man who 
 disturbed a wolf." 
 
 " I can help you," said Earle. 
 
 " You, master ? " 
 
 " By leading you to the body." 
 
276 THE RIFLED GRAVE. 
 
 "You?" 
 
 " My interest is to do so. I myself need the 
 help of the wolves." 
 
 " For what, master \ " 
 
 " To attack AVestbrooke Hall, where my 
 mother is a prisoner; to release her at the same 
 moment when you recapture our dead brother's 
 body." 
 
 The wolf started back, in astonishment. 
 
 : At Westbrooke Hall ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes ! my mother, and all that is left of 
 our dead brother, who has been carried off ! 
 Come, no time is to be lost ! I am a wolf ! 
 I make the signal! to my help, wolves! to my 
 help!" 
 
 " That is enough, master ! " 
 
 And they hurried down the steep pathway, 
 toward the haunts of the wolves. 
 
CHAPTEK XYI. 
 
 THE ATTACK OF THE WOLVES. 
 
 T an hour past noon on the same day 
 which witnessed the discovery of the 
 rifled grave, a singular scene took place 
 at Westbrooke Hall. 
 Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke was pacing up 
 and down his library, with hurried steps, his 
 face bruised, and swollen, his eyes glaring with 
 rage, when suddenly there came to his ears a 
 strange sound ' from the park without, the 
 sound of furious shouts, hurrying feet, and that 
 muffled and threatening hum, which rises from 
 a mass of men bent upon mischief. 
 
 At that sound, the baronet suddenly stopped, 
 and turned his head. 
 
 " What is that ? " he muttered, with an ex- 
 pression of rage and apprehension mingled. 
 
 (277) 
 
278 ATTACK OF THE WOLVES. 
 
 He hastened to the window. The spectacle 
 which saluted him made him recoil. 
 
 In front of the hall was a confused and 
 furious crowd of outlandish figures, ragged, 
 with glaring eyes, fierce grins, brandished arms, 
 who were hurrying towards the great door, 
 shouting ferociously as they came ; and in front 
 of them, beside the enormous Goliath, who led 
 the attack, the baronet recognized the pale face 
 *>f Earle, who wore his full uniform. 
 
 "What devil has brought these wretches to 
 attack and perhaps sack my house ? " cried the 
 baronet. 
 
 Suddenly his face grew pale. 
 
 " Has she found him and told him all, and 
 has he come to murder me ? " 
 
 He rushed to the door, and violently called 
 out, 
 
 "Wilde!" 
 
 The man had his hand on the door as the 
 baronet opened it. He was trembling. 
 
 "Mount and ride to the revenue station, 
 Wilde ! Say I am attacked by these assassins 
 the wolves ! Kill my best horse, if neccessary ! 
 Hide, and come back with the guard at a 
 gallop ! " 
 
 Wilde ran from the library, and disappeared 
 
ATTACK OF THE WOLVES. 279 
 
 at a side door. The baronet hastened to the 
 front door of the mansion, where a loud knock- 
 ing was heard. 
 
 " Open ! " cried twenty voices. 
 
 And the door shook under the pressure of 
 huge shoulders. 
 
 The baronet replied by drawing a massive 
 chain across the door, and dropping a heavy bar. 
 The door was already locked it was thus 
 triply guarded. 
 
 " Open ! " howled the wolves. 
 
 " Who are you ? " cried the baronet. 
 
 " Open the door ! or " 
 
 A tremendous rush was made at the oak. 
 
 " I warn you to desist ! " shouted the bar- 
 onet, in a hoarse and trembling voice. " Who 
 comes to invade the privacy and violate 
 the " 
 
 A howl drowned the rest of the sentence. 
 
 " I am a magistrate ! " 
 
 " Open ! " 
 
 "This is a felony!" 
 
 The door cracked. 
 
 "I have sent for the revenue guard. Be- 
 ware ! Disperse, before they charge and fire 
 on you ! " 
 
 As he spoke, the wolves, in one huge mass 
 
280 ATTACK OF THE WOLVES. 
 
 of shoulders, backs, and arms, rushed against 
 the door. 
 
 It gave way, the bar snapped, the chain was 
 torn from its fastenings, the lock was shattered ; 
 in a moment the wolves had poured in, irresist- 
 ible as a surge of the ocean, and furious voices 
 shouted, 
 
 " Our brother ! where is the wolf, our 
 brother ! " 
 
 Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke, staggered back, 
 as pale as death and trembling in every limb. 
 
 " The meaning of this violence ? " he mut- 
 tered. " Who is your brother ? " 
 
 A howl answered him. 
 
 He looked round, expecting every moment to 
 be torn to pieces. His eye fell upon Earle, 
 who, pale and still, was looking at him. 
 
 " You too ! " gasped the baronet, " what 
 brings you f " 
 
 " Where is my mother ? " 
 
 The baronet grew livid, and made no reply. 
 
 " Where is my mother, and the record of her 
 marriage which you had stolen at Martigny ?" 
 
 The young man's face suddenly . flushed. 
 Rage was gaining the mastery witli him. 
 
 " I know nothing of her, or the record ! " 
 
 Earle's teeth were heard grinding together. 
 
ATTACK OF THE WOLVES. 281 
 
 " Where is my mother, and that paper ? " he 
 exclaimed, advancing as though about to throttle 
 the baronet. " Answer ! Dare to trifle with me, 
 and, by heaven! though you be my father, I 
 will slay you as I would slay a venemous rep- 
 tile!" 
 
 The baronet shrunk back, pale and trembling. 
 
 At the same instant, a tremendous shout was 
 heard. It issued from the side apartment, 
 where the wolves had discovered the corpse, 
 and they were seen now, pouring out, the 
 corpse, in its shroud, borne on their brawny 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Death ! death ! " they cried hoarsely. 
 
 And they rushed on the baronet. 
 
 As he staggered back, a loud shout was heard 
 without, and the clash of hooves. 
 
 " They are coming !, if I can gain a few min- 
 utes ! " muttered the baronet, as pale as death. 
 
 And recoiling from the mad crowd, 
 
 " Beware how you outrage a magistrate ! " he 
 gasped. 
 
 The hoof -strokes came on like thunder, and 
 men were heard leaping to the ground. 
 
 " Wilde has met a party going the rounds : 
 I am saved ! " 
 
 And the baronet broke from his enemies. 
 
282 
 
 ATTACK OF THE WOLVES. 
 
 As he did so, a party of the revenue guard 
 entered the great doorway, with drawn pistols. 
 At their head, tall and commanding, advanced 
 the Yiscount Cecil. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE NEWS FROM FEANCE. 
 
 'HE viscount entered the hall slowly, and 
 his calm eyes surveyed the confused mass 
 of wolves, without apparent emotion. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this out- 
 rage ? " he said ; " and that corpse there what 
 does this mean \ " 
 
 The baronet hastened toward his kinsman. 
 " It means that I am attacked and outraged, 
 as you were here, once ; and that wretch takes 
 part again in the attack." 
 
 The viscount turned suddenly; at sight of 
 Earle he could not conceal his surprise. 
 
 " You, sir ! " he said ; " is it possible that you 
 are here "and thus engaged \ " 
 
 " It is possible, my lord, since you see me," 
 returned Earle, in a gloomy voice ; " and as to 
 
 (283) 
 
284: THE NEWS FROM FRANCE. 
 
 my errand, I am not ashamed of it a matter 
 I will explain to your lordship." 
 
 " It is well, sir," returned the viscount, in a 
 freezing tone. "Wonders never are to cease, 
 then ; and life is a play ! I leave you in France, 
 and come to England ; am riding out, and meet 
 a guard going to protect this gentleman, and 
 take command of it; I reach the scene of the 
 outrage, and lo ! the Baron Delamere com- 
 mands the insurgents the terrible mob ! " 
 
 There was an imperceptible shade of irony, 
 in the nobleman's tones. One thing at least was 
 plain the outrage to the baronet did not vio- 
 lently enrage him. 
 
 " And now a truce to all this," he said. " The 
 cause of this outbreak ? Why are these men 
 here?" 
 
 " I will explain in one word, my lord ! " said 
 Earle. 
 
 And he narrated every thing, connected with 
 the robbery of the grave. 
 
 " Your lordship understands now," he added, 
 " why these men are enraged. Sir Murdaugh 
 Westbrooke has violated one of their most 
 deeply rooted prejudices. They look upon one 
 of their fraternity, when dead, as sacred. Sir 
 Murdaugh Westbrooke has violated the grave 
 
THE NEWS FROM FRANCE. 285 
 
 of one of them, and the wolves rescue their dead 
 brother, my lord ! " 
 
 The viscount coldly inclined his head. 
 
 " And the wolves are right ! " he replied. 
 
 He turned round to the guard. 
 
 " Put up your weapons, and mount your 
 horses." 
 
 Then turning to the wolves, 
 
 " Go home with your dead brother," he said. 
 " You know me, and will not disobey me. Re- 
 bury that body. If I have power in Pembroke- 
 shire, no others shall be thus outraged." 
 
 A hoarse murmur rose from the wolves ; but 
 it was plain that they did not design resistance. 
 In fact the Viscount Cecil was as popular with 
 them as Sir Murdaugh was unpopular; and at 
 the word of the high dignitary and manorial 
 lord they bowed their heads in submission. 
 
 Goliath went out first, and as he passed before 
 the viscount, doffed his seal-skin cap, and said, 
 
 " You be right, my lord." 
 
 " Go, and cease these outrages, Goliath. You 
 are the master ! " 
 
 Goliath went out, overwhelmed with pride at 
 this recognition. 
 
 " Come on, there ! " he growled to the fierce 
 water-dogs, who were muttering hoarsely. 
 
THE NEWS FROM FRANCE. 
 
 At the word from their chief, they moved to- 
 ward the door. On their shoulders they bore the 
 corpse, and as the heavy feet struck the floor, 
 the monotonous chant of the burial service rose. 
 
 Then the wolves, no longer a mob, but in sol- 
 emn procession, left Westbrooke Hall. 
 
 Earle alone remained; his arms folded, his 
 face pale and stern. He was clad in his full 
 uniform, and as the baronet glanced at it, his 
 swollen face was full of satisfaction. 
 
 " Well, the insurrection is quelled ; the mob 
 has dispersed ! " said the Yiscount Cecil, with 
 covert irony. "Pray what do you propose fur- 
 ther, my good Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke ? " 
 
 The baronet bounded with rage nearly, at the 
 ill-suppressed satire of the speaker's tones. 
 
 " I propose to arrest this person as a French 
 spy, and have him hanged ! " he shouted. 
 
 "Arrest whom?" 
 
 " That wretch ! " 
 
 And he pointed with a furious gesture at 
 Earle. 
 
 "Ah! The Baron Delamere! And as a 
 French spy, do you say ? " 
 
 " As a spy ! whoever he may be." 
 
 " You cannot, my dear Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke." 
 
THE NEWS FROM FRANCE. 287 
 
 "Cannot?" 
 
 " For the very simplest reason in the world. 
 Spies ply their trade only when two countries 
 are at war. Now France and England have 
 agreed on the preliminaries of a treaty of peace, 
 hostilities are at an end ; and Monsieur le Baron 
 Delamere, there, is on a visit simply to Wales." 
 
 He turned and bowed to Earle. 
 
 " When in France, I offered you the hospital- 
 ities of Wentworth Castle, Monsieur le Baron," 
 he said : " I beg you will do me the honor, now, 
 to accept them." 
 
 Earle bowed low, but shook his head. His 
 lips moved; he seemed vainly attempting to 
 speak. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " exclaimed the vis 
 count, for the young man had grown suddenly 
 white. 
 
 " Thanks, my lord," came from the sailor, in 
 a low weak voice ; " but I came hither* to I 
 must " 
 
 He tottered. 
 
 The viscount hastened to him, and caught him 
 as he was falling. 
 
 " My mother ! That paper ! " 
 - And letting his head fall on his shoulder, suf- 
 fused with blood, Earle lost consciousness. 
 
288 THE NEWS FROM FRANCE. - 
 
 Fifteen minutes afterwards he was in the 
 Viscount Cecil's chariot, which was rolling 
 towards Wentworth Castle. The viscount had 
 been riding out in it, when he met the party of 
 guards, and had directed it to follow ; he him- 
 self mounting the horse of one of his outriders. 
 
 As Earle fainted, he bore him out. They en- 
 tered the chariot, and it went on its way. 
 
 Between the viscount and the baronet not a 
 single word had been exchanged. 
 
 So the strange scene ended. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE CRISIS. 
 
 O sooner had the chariot disappeared with 
 the viscount and Earle, than Sir Mur- 
 daugh Westbrooke fell into a chair, and 
 called, in a hoarse and broken voice, 
 "Wilde!" 
 
 The Hercules hastened to his master. He had 
 kept in the background hitherto, but now ap- 
 peared, like a bird of ill-omen swooping down 
 on the field of conflict after the departure of the 
 combatants. 
 
 " Wilde ! " the baronet exclaimed, " we must 
 go to work ; not a moment must be lost now. 
 Where is that woman ? " 
 
 " She must be in the woods somewhere, with 
 that gypsy rascal, your honor," growled the 
 Hercules. 
 
 19 (289) 
 
290 THE CRISIS. 
 
 " Search for her instantly, with Gubbs ; she 
 must be recaptured before she gives the alarm." 
 
 " Yes, your honor." 
 
 " Then to work ; all is ready. In your absence 
 every arrangement has been made. At the port 
 of Roche, two or three leagues down the coast, 
 the bark Fly-ty-Niglit is moored, and the captain 
 is in my pay. He will sail for St. Domingo, as 
 soon as his, passenger arrives. You understand ? 
 He is paid five hundred pounds to conduct a 
 mad woman to St. Domingo. The money will 
 close his ears, her ravings will pass unheeded. 
 You will go with her, and see her beyond seas, 
 when you will return and make your report to 
 me. A thousand pounds will await you. Do 
 you understand all now ? " 
 
 "Wilde flushed with joy and cupidity. 
 
 " Yes, your honor ; at your honor's orders." 
 
 "But first to find her! to find her! That 
 cursed gypsy has overturned all my plans. Two 
 things are necessary now, Wilde; let me talk 
 plainly ; no ceremony is necessary with you. In 
 a few days I am to be married, but before that 
 day two things must be accomplished. This 
 woman must be out of the country, and that 
 man Earle must be - " 
 
 He stopped and looked at "Wilde significantly. 
 
THE CRISIS. 291 
 
 The eyes of master and man met. Their 
 glances were dark and meaning. 
 
 " Yes, your honor." 
 
 " He knows all ; can send me and you to the 
 gallows. She is the other obstacle : she can in- 
 terpose, and forbid the bans on my marriage 
 day. One course only is left. She must be 
 sent away, and he well, one thing only will 
 silence him" 
 
 And in a low voice he added, 
 
 " You understand ? " 
 
 " I understand," growled Wilde. " The woman 
 first ; that is the pressing thing." 
 
 " Yes : go, now. Take the wagon. Find her, 
 and send her to the ship with Gubbs. Then re- 
 turn here ; I will give you my further orders." 
 
 "Wilde grunted obedience and hurried from 
 the room. 
 
 "Things are hastening," muttered the bar- 
 onet, " and all depends on prompt action. That 
 cursed dead body that brought about all this 
 discovery, that led the wolves to attack me, and 
 brought the viscount here, would it had been 
 sunk fathoms deep in the waters of the channel, 
 ere I meddled with it. And then this cut ? Is 
 there no danger? " 
 
 He looked at his hand, punctured by the knife 
 
292. THE CRISIS. 
 
 during the process of dissection. It was swollen, 
 and lie had bandaged it carefully. 
 
 " No : it is a trifle. I have more important 
 matters to think of," he said. 
 
 And rising, he paced to and fro, his brows 
 knit, his lips muttering. 
 
 "Well, all is touch and go now. A short 
 time will decide all. If I can get her out of 
 the country, and close his lips forever, then 
 safety, security, a bonny bride, and triumph 
 over my enemies. If I fail but I'll not think 
 of that ; the thought is too horrible ! Now to 
 make my toilet carefully and repair to lady 
 "Worsham's. There my beautiful young bride 
 awaits impatiently her devoted lover." 
 
 A sneer passed over his lips, and the yellow 
 tusks were thrust out. 
 
 A moment afterwards he had left the apart- 
 ment. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE PATH TO WENTWOKTH CASTLE. 
 
 'HE chariot containing Earle and the vis- 
 connt rolled on toward Wentworth Cas- 
 tle, a great feudal pile crowning an emi- 
 nence above the channel, a few miles 
 south of Oldport. 
 
 The scene through which they passed was 
 wild and full of majestic beauty. Dense forests 
 covered the slopes of the great headlands to the 
 right, and from the wall of dark evergreens on 
 their left issued a mountain torrent, which 
 rushed with a sound like thunder beneath a 
 stone bridge which spanned the gulf beneath. 
 
 As the chariot reached this point, the castle 
 was seen near at hand, raising its mighty walls 
 above the foliage of its oaks. It was one of 
 these old feudal piles like Caernarvon or Dal- 
 
 (293) 
 
294 PATH TO WENTWORTH CASTLE. 
 
 bardon, which render Wales so attractive in the 
 eyes of the historical antiquary. All around it 
 brought back the past and excited the imagina- 
 tion, Even weak and burnt up with fever as he 
 was, Earle seemed deeply impressed with the 
 scene. 
 
 " I see you are struck with my old castle," 
 said the viscount ; " and it is a true relic of an- 
 tiquity. Edward I. spent a night here, and his 
 son, Edward II., came near being born here in- 
 stead of at Caernarvon. Even this stone bridge 
 over the torrent dates back two hundred years." 
 
 Earl murmured something that was inaudi- 
 ble. 
 
 The viscount gazed at his pale face with at- 
 tention. The dreamy eyes of the young man 
 surveyed the bridge, the torrent, a path leading 
 to it from the forest, and suddenly he said, in a 
 low voice, with a strange and startled look, 
 
 " I have been here before ! " 
 
 The baronet looked at him curiously. 
 
 " You ? Well that is possible, sir. But doubt- 
 less you recall the occasion?" 
 
 " I do not," murmured Earle ; " it is strange. 
 But all is familiar to me." 
 
 He gazed around him with profound astonish- 
 ment depicted upon his flushed face. 
 
PATH TO WENTWORTH CASTLE. 295 
 
 " That path ! I know that path. Stay, my 
 lord : there is a stone cross in the wood yonder." 
 
 And he pointed up the steep path. 
 
 " True ! "What does this mean ? " muttered the 
 viscount. 
 
 " I know not, my lord." 
 
 " There is the cross ! See, through the foli- 
 age. It is built above a well in the forest." 
 
 "The Hart's Well?" 
 
 The nobleman started. 
 
 " You astound me ! Then you have really 
 been here in the grounds of Wentworth Castle?" 
 
 " I know not. I am in a dream," murmured 
 Earle. " Is there a previous existence ? I do 
 not believe it ; but all here is familiar. I seem 
 to have traversed that path but yesterday, and 
 to have heard some one utter that name the 
 ' Hart's Well.' " 
 
 He stopped, looking with amazement around 
 him. 
 
 " Let us alight, if it please you, my lord." 
 
 "Alight?" 
 
 " I would ascend that path, and approach the 
 figure in stone of an armed knight through the 
 double row of evergreens ! " 
 
 The viscount gazed at the speaker with un- 
 bounded astonishment. 
 
296 PATH TO WENTWORTH CASTLE. 
 
 " The stone figure of the armed knight ! the 
 double row of evergreens !" he said, " then you 
 have visited my house before. What mystery 
 is concealed under all this, sir ? " 
 
 The nobleman's tones had grown cold and 
 formal. Was this unknown Frenchman some 
 charlatan, then ? Had he acted a part in pre- 
 tending that he liad never visited Pembroke- 
 shire before this autumn ? 
 
 " Truly, something deeply mysterious, to my- 
 self, at least, is under this strange recognition," 
 murmured Earle ; " but will your lordship per- 
 mit me to walk \ I am strong enough, I think. 
 If my strength fails me, I will sit down and rest 
 on the granite seat, with the Wentworth arms 
 cut in the stone back of the bench." 
 
 The viscount gazed at him without speaking. 
 Then he muttered, 
 
 " I will discover the meaning of this ! " 
 
 Without further words, he stopped the coach, 
 and directed the watchman to proceed to the 
 castle by the main carriage road. With Earle, 
 he struck into the path, supporting the young 
 man, who walked with difficulty, looking around 
 him with strange curiosity as he advanced. 
 
 Half-way up the height they came to a foun- 
 tain surmounted by a cross. 
 
PATH TO WENTWORTH CATSLE. 297 
 
 u Here is the well I have often drunk from," 
 murmured Earle, pale and faint. 
 
 And he walked on, with the same dreamy 
 and vacant expression in his eyes. 
 
 All at once the viscount felt him stagger. 
 
 " You are faint ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " It is nothing, my lord. Let us go on. 
 If I am weary, I will rest on the stone bench. 
 See, it is yonder, with the Wentworth arms." 
 
 And he tottered forward to the broad seat, 
 upon which he fell, half exhausted. 
 
 The viscount no longer said anything. Sur- 
 prise seemed to have rendered him speechless. 
 
 Earle rose after resting for some moments. 
 
 " I am weak to-day. My wound has 
 drained my blood, he murmured. " But we 
 will soon reach home now ; there are the two 
 rows of evergreens. And look, there is the 
 armed knight ; the stone is discolored since I 
 was here last." 
 
 He went on, unaware that the viscount guided 
 his steps, and kept him from falling. 
 
 " The old firs ! How ..well I remember them. 
 There is the one that had an eagle's nest in it ! " 
 
 The viscount was speechless. The sailor was 
 recalling things which he himself remembered 
 clearly. 
 
298 PATH TO WENTWORTH CASTLE. 
 
 They passed through the double row of ever- 
 greens toward the huge pile. 
 
 " Here is the knight ! One of his spurs used 
 to be broken, and I found and played with it 
 one day ! " 
 
 The viscount turned pale, and glanced at 
 the statue, which rose from a massive block of 
 granite, in a grass-plat. One of the spurs had 
 been broken off he had never observed it be- 
 fore. 
 
 He looked at Earle with distended eyes. 
 Something strange seemed going on in the 
 young man. 
 
 " Why, there is home ! " he exclaimed ; " one 
 half the great door is open, as always ! Is the 
 picture grasping the battle-axe, hanging on the 
 right of the door? And the lady with the 
 blue mantle nearly opposite is she there ? 
 And the fountain, in the small court, with the 
 water spouting from the tritons ? " 
 
 Earle staggered, and a mist seemed to pass 
 before his eyes. He turned faintly toward the 
 viscount. 
 
 "What does this mean? Where am 
 I ? Why, this is home ! home ! home ! " 
 
 And he fainted in the arms of the viscount, 
 who was near fainting in his turn. 
 

 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 WHAT THE GYPSY WOMAN HAD SEEN. 
 )- 
 
 T was not until the next night that Wilde 
 made his reappearance. 
 
 He then entered the library where 
 Sir Murdaugh was feverishly pacing up 
 and down ; and from the haggard appearance of 
 the man's face, and his jaded expression, it was 
 plain that he had just undergone great fatigue. 
 The baronet stopped and turned around 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Well ? " he exclaimed. 
 " I have caught her at last, your honor ! " 
 " Good ! where is she \ " 
 " On her way to the coast in the wagon with 
 Gubbs." 
 
 The baronet uttered an exclamation of satis- 
 faction. 
 
300 WHA T THE G YPS Y 
 
 " That is well ! " he said. 
 
 Wilde made no reply. The baronet glanced 
 at him. lie was gloomy and dispirited. 
 
 "What is the matter? Has anything oc- 
 cured ? Where did you find her ? Has any- 
 thing taken place ? " 
 
 " Something unlucky enough, your honor. 
 I will begin and tell you every thing. I fol- 
 lowed their steps her, and that gypsy scoun- 
 drel, in the woods, till I lost them. Gubbs was 
 as much at fault as I was ; but we inquired 
 of an old woodman, got on the trail of the 
 gypsies, who have been camping about in the 
 woods, and found 'em at last in the big forest 
 behind Maverick House, where they have been 
 laying low, to keep out of the way." 
 
 " Make haste ! Come to the point ! " cried 
 the baronet, impatiently. 
 
 " In a minute, your honor. Well, we came 
 on 'em at last. I heard 'em, and crawled 
 through the brush till I got a sight of 'em, 
 there close to me. An old hag in a red cloak 
 was watching a pot boiling over a fire on two 
 forked sticks; and that gypsy scoundrel was 
 talking to her, while she the woman we were 
 after was listening. As I got to my hiding- 
 place, I heard the old hag call my name ; the 
 
WOMAN HAD SEEN. 301 
 
 next thing she said was that she could get you 
 and me into trouble, and then that gypsy dog, 
 who can never rest till he finds out every thing, 
 plied her with questions till she let out " 
 
 Wilde stopped. 
 
 " Let out what 1 Speak ! " exclaimed the 
 baronet, wrathfully. 
 
 " What she had seen near the bridge leading 
 to Wentworth Castle twenty years ago ! " said 
 Wilde, sullenly. 
 
 The baronet turned pale. 
 
 "She saw you 2" 
 
 " Yes, your honor. How could I help that ? 
 I had my orders from you, and obeyed 'em ! 
 and now I am to get into trouble." 
 
 " Cease that growling ! She saw " 
 
 " Well, she saw me steal the child of Yis- 
 count Cecil!" said Wilde, "the son of his 
 wife who died twenty years ago." 
 
 The baronet gnawed his lip, and his face 
 grew livid. 
 
 " You paid me to do it, and I lurked round 
 the castle till I did it," growled the Hercules. 
 " I saw the child come tottering down the path 
 to the bridge, to look at the water. How he 
 came to stray away from his nurse I never 
 knew ; but he was there, and I caught hold of 
 
302 WHAT THE GYPSY 
 
 him, and lifted him on my black horse, and 
 made through the woods at a gallop, carrying 
 him before me ! " 
 
 "And this hag !" 
 
 " Saw me ! She was prowling in the brush 
 to steal fowls or any thing. I nearly rode over 
 her, and knew she had seen me. I ought to have 
 killed her, but blood is dangerous ! I paid her 
 ten guineas, and afterwards ten more when she 
 met me and knew me for the man that stole the 
 child ! Then she went away, and I thought 
 she was dead. I had carried the child to 
 France, you were at Martigny and I saw 
 no more of her. Kow she has told that gypsy 
 and that woman the whole, that the Yiscount 
 Cecil's child was not drowned in the torrent as 
 all thought, but carried off by me. They know 
 that he lives is Edmond Earle ! " 
 
 The baronet drew a long, deep breath. 
 Something seemed crushing his breast. 
 
 "Well," he said, "what followed?" 
 
 " Why, Gubbs came up, and we jumped into 
 'em!" was the reply. "I knocked the gypsy 
 rascal on the head, and Gubbs seized hold of 
 the woman. He dragged her off then, and put 
 her in the wagon, where she was gagged, and is 
 now on her way to the Fly-fy- Night" 
 
WOMAN HAD SEEN. 303 
 
 " That, at least, is gained," muttered the 
 baronet ; " and now for the other part. No 
 one will believe the charge of -that old gypsy 
 hag that I stole a child; many will believe 
 Edmond, son of the Viscount Cecil, when he 
 brands me as a murderer ! " 
 
 He stopped. The sound of horses' hoofs 
 was heard without. 
 
 " He must die ! How to compass that ! " said 
 the baronet, in a low voice. 
 
 As he spoke, steps approached, the door 
 opened, and Earle entered, pale and tottering. 
 
CHAPTEK XXI. 
 
 THE LOVE OF AN OLD MAN FOR A GIEL. 
 
 'O explain the young man's presence at 
 Westbrooke Hall, it will be necessary 
 to return to Wentworth Castle for a 
 brief space. 
 Earle had fainted in the arms of the Vis- 
 count Cecil, as we have sen, and it was only 
 with the assistance of several servants, who ran 
 out, that he was borne into the castle. 
 
 The viscount, pale and lost in wonder at the 
 strange scene he had witnessed, saw to all his 
 wants, and a sound night's rest seemed to re- 
 store the young man to his senses. 
 
 He descended on the next morning and man- 
 aged to swallow a little food, but it was plain 
 that he was laboring under fever. The vis- 
 count endeavored to prevail on him to go to his 
 (304) 
 
AN OLD MAWS LOVE. 305 
 
 chamber and lie down, but lie refused, and in 
 the midst of his host's urging, a carriage drove 
 up to the door, from which descended Arthur 
 Maverick and his sister Rose. 
 
 Rose entered, pale and pensive, and the vis- 
 count hastened forward to greet her. 
 
 " My dear child ! " he said, " and you must 
 permit your old cousin to thus address you ! 
 what has become of your roses? Your ap- 
 pearance distresses me ! " 
 
 Rose smiled. All at once she saw Earle and 
 turned crimson. 
 
 " You, sir, you here ! " she faltered. 
 
 The young man bowed, and his face flushed 
 too. 
 
 " You did not know that my poor face would 
 meet your eyes here, 'Miss Maverick ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; but I rejoice to see you " 
 
 There she stop'ped with a deep blush. 
 
 " And I to see you again," he said, in a low 
 tone, with much emotion. " I remember that 
 night what you said have thought of it 
 often ! On the ocean in my hours of musing 
 in France, and everywhere, I have seen your 
 beautiful face and heard your voice ! " 
 
 The young girl blushed crimson. The vis- 
 count, busy in greeting Arthur, had heard 
 20 
 
306 AN OLD MAN'S LOVE. 
 
 nothing. Now he turned and saw Kose and 
 Earle conversing like old friends. 
 
 " You know my friend, then, the Baron Dela- 
 mere, my dear Kose ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Yery well, cousin that is yes, we know 
 Mr. Delamere." 
 
 " And are glad to call him our friend," said 
 Arthur, cordially pressing his hand. 
 
 Turning to the viscount as he spoke, he 
 explained how their acquaintance had taken 
 place. 
 
 " You saved Kose, then," said the viscount to 
 Earle, with deep emotion. " For that alone 
 you deserve and have my gratitude my very 
 profound gratitude, sir. This young lady is my 
 cousin, and all I love upon earth very nearly. 
 My life has been sad, sir, her smiles have 
 brightened it. She would live here at Wentworth 
 Castle, as its mistress, after my death, if I could 
 compass that. I cannot. This property goes 
 to a personage very distasteful to me, Sir Mur- 
 daugh Westbrooke. Thus, my very dear Rose," 
 he said, turning with a tender smile toward the 
 girl, " you will remain poor in comparison with 
 what you would be, had I my will ! And now, 
 the news ! I am just from France, you know ! 
 How is Miss Ellinor Maverick ? " 
 
AN OLD MAWS LOVE. 307 
 
 And the viscount suddenly cooled. 
 
 " That young lady is not a favorite with 
 me, to be frank ; but she is your relative, 
 Arthur," he added. 
 
 " I am sorry for it," said the young man. 
 
 And he narrated every thing relating to the 
 young lady, winding up with the statement 
 that in three or four days she was to be mar- 
 ried to Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke. 
 
 The viscount knit his brows. 
 
 " I had heard something of this ! But so 
 soon ! Then she, instead of Rose, will be 
 mistress here ! " 
 
 All eyes were directed toward the viscount 
 with surprise. 
 
 u You do not know tne tenor of Lord Went- 
 worth's will, I see," he said, gloomily. " In case 
 of my death without issue, Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke inherits my estate, as, in the case of his 
 death without issue, I would inherit his. Well, 
 my child," he said to Rose, " he is about to 
 marry, and is younger than I am. Thus he and 
 his children will possess this castle after my 
 death. I attempted to secure you one-half, in 
 consideration of relinquishing to the baronet the 
 other half now. He refused. There all ends. 
 Would to God my poor son had " 
 
308 AN OLD MAWS LOVE. 
 
 lie stopped suddenly. 
 
 " Your son, sir ? " said Earle, looking at him. 
 
 "I had a son. I have been married, sir. 
 Lady Cecil died early, and my poor child 
 strayed away and was drowned. We followed 
 his footprints to that torrent yonder, and he was 
 never more heard of . But this is sorrowful, 
 let me try not to cloud your smiles, my dear 
 Rose." 
 
 As he spoke a servant entered, and presented 
 a note on a silver salver. 
 
 The viscount looked at it, and an expression 
 of vexation came to his face. 
 
 " A meeting of magistrates on a matter of 
 importance. My presence is indispensable," he 
 said. " But you will stay and dine with me, 
 my dear Rose and Arthur." 
 
 "I regret to say 'tis impossible, my lord. 
 You will come soon to see us." 
 
 " Very soon ; but remain and entertain my 
 friend, the Baron Delamere. I beg you to do 
 so. You are my own family." 
 
 And, with a courteous smile, the viscount 
 took his departure. 
 
 Rose and Arthur remained until evening. 
 "With every passing moment, Earle found him- 
 self gazing with deeper tenderness ,pn the beau- 
 
AN OLD MAWS LOVE. . 309 
 
 tif ul girl. His wild passion for Ellinor seemed 
 to have merely smoothed the way for this new 
 emotion, as profound and durable as the first 
 was transient, as serenely tender as the former 
 was passionate. 
 
 For the first time Earle felt that he loved in- 
 deed; and when at last the young lady rose, 
 and took her departure with her brother, Earle 
 felt as though the sunlight had suddenly disap- 
 peared from the earth with her smile and the 
 light of her eyes. He fell back into despon- 
 dency. 
 
 The coach, containing Arthur and Rose, 
 rolle^ away just as night descended upon Went- 
 worth Castle. 
 
 The viscount r^ad not yet returned, and Earle 
 sat down, gloomy and lonely. Then all the 
 violent passions, which the presence of the girl 
 had banished, began to tear him once more. 
 He rose and paced the floor, burnt up by the 
 one thought of his mother. Finally a fever 
 seized him ; he felt as though his head were 
 burning, and going to a bell, rang it violently. 
 
 A servant hastened in. 
 
 " My horse ! " said Earle, feverishly. 
 
 The servant hesited, looking with astonish- 
 ment at his flushed face. 
 
310 AN OLD MAWS LOVE. 
 
 " Well, niy horse ! My horse, I say ! Sad- 
 dle my horse, without delay ! " 
 
 The servant bowed and went out, reduced to 
 submission by the authoritative voice. 
 
 Earle then coolly descended, put on his hat 
 and gloves, and went to the great door. 
 
 A horse, saddled and bridled, already awaited 
 him. At Wentworth Castle the master never 
 waited. 
 
 " Inform the viscount that I have gone out to 
 take a short ride," he said, getting into the 
 saddle. 
 
 And leaving the groom gazing with amaze- 
 ment on his^agitated face, like the first servant, 
 Earle rode down the great avenue, and, crossing 
 the bridge, went straight on. 
 
 What was his destination ? He scarce knew. 
 His brain was reeling, and he was burnt up by 
 fever. Only a vague sensation of rage and 
 thirst for revenge upon the baronet possessed 
 him. His mother that paper Sir Mur- 
 daugh Westbrooke such were the thoughts 
 that flitted through his weak brain. And set- 
 ting spur to his horse, he rode toward West- 
 brooke Hall. 
 
 The animal broke into a gallop, and it was a 
 miracle almost that Earle kept his seat as the 
 
AN OLD MAWS LOVE. 311 
 
 horse sped on through the darkness. He tot- 
 tered from side to side, his eyes half -closed, his 
 bosom heaving. With heated brain and burn- 
 ing cheeks, which only rendered more shocking 
 and terrible his death-like pallor, he went on 
 at at full speed, clinging to his animal rather by 
 the instinct of excellent horsemanship than any 
 thing else ; and so, feeble, reeling, fever- 
 stricken, out of his senses nearly, reached West- 
 brooke Hall, and stood before Sir Hurdaugh 
 "VVestbrooke the moment after he had uttered 
 the words in reference to Earle, 
 "He must die! 57 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE BLUDGEON AND THE EOPE. 
 
 T sight of Earle, the baronet recoiled 
 and shook in every limb. Then a dia- 
 bolical joy shone in his bloodshot eyes, 
 and his mouth slowly expanded into 
 the hideous grin which was habitual with 
 him. 
 
 For a moment, neither of the adversaries 
 spoke. The baronet looked keenly at his in- 
 tended victim. 
 
 Earle was as thin as a ghost, and frightfully 
 pale, except in the centre of his cheeks. There 
 a hectic flush burned, like a red-hot coal. As 
 he had advanced he had staggered. As he 
 looked at the ' baronet now, his eyes showed 
 plainly that the young man was approaching a 
 paroxysm of fever ; that the wound inflicted by 
 (312) 
 
BLUDGEON AND ROPE. 313 
 
 Wilde had at last worked its results, and 
 strength of mind and body were leaving him 
 together. 
 
 The expression of diabolical joy in the bar- 
 onet's face deepened. But, spite of this feel- 
 ing, the face of Earle seemed to cow him. 
 
 " What is your pleasure ? " he stammered. 
 " What brings you to this house ? " 
 
 " To slay you, if necessary, as you slew Giles 
 Maverick ! " shouted Earle, " unless you tell me 
 where I may find my mother ! " 
 . The baronet recoiled. 
 
 " My mother ! " shouted Earle, his hand going 
 to his empty belt, " or, by heaven, I'll have 
 your blood, were you fifty times my father ! " 
 
 " Then he does not know yet ! " came in low, 
 muttered tones from the baronet, as, with his 
 eyes on the young man's hot face, he retreated 
 toward the right-hand apartment. 
 
 " My mother ! where is my mother ? and 
 that marriage-record you stole at Martigny ? " 
 
 As he spoke in his hoarse voice, strident and 
 metallic from the effect of fever, Earle ad- 
 vanced on the baronet, who continued to retreat 
 before him. 
 
 In the baronet's eyes there was something 
 frightful, a venom which may be seen in the 
 
314 BLUDGEON AND ROPE. 
 
 eyes of the cobra, when lie raises his deadly 
 crest and is about to spring. 
 
 " Your mother ? I know nothing of her," 
 he said, watching Earle warily, and continuing 
 to retire. 
 
 " Murderer ! !N"o ! You shall not escape 
 me ! You are my father, but " 
 
 He staggered. But for the table which stood 
 near him, he would have fallen to the earth. 
 He leaned upon it, and passed his other hand 
 over his brow as though to clear his vision. 
 
 " My mother ! " he murmured, faintly. 
 
 His doom had, in that moment, been pro- 
 nounced. 
 
 The baronet had turned and whispered a few 
 hurried words to "Wilde. The latter had dis- 
 appeared at one bound. 
 
 Suddenly Earle seemed to recover his 
 strength, as though by a miracle. On the wall 
 hung a sword. He caught it down and rushed 
 on the baronet, 
 
 " Speak ! Tell me where to find my mother 
 and that paper," he shouted, " or I will tear you 
 in pieces, whether you be my father or not ! 
 Answer, monster that you are, where have you 
 hidden my mother? You murdered Giles 
 Maverick the very dog who saw it rose to 
 
BLUDGEON AND ROPE. 315 
 
 convict you ! You robbed the register at Mar- 
 tigny like a felon and a thief ! Last, my 
 mother disappears you may have murdered 
 her, as you would murder me if you dared ! " 
 
 " I dare ! " came in a deep and sombre voice 
 from the baronet. 
 
 As he spoke the door of the secret closet in 
 the wall flew open: the figure of Wilde ap- 
 peared in the opening like a hideous picture in 
 its frame ; a bludgeon rose, descended, and fell 
 upon Earle's right temple, and he fell forward 
 at full length, deprived of consciousness, it 
 seemed of life. 
 
 " Now for the rope ! the rope ! " shouted the 
 baronet, hoarsely. 
 
 Wilde rushed into the apartment, and threw 
 a rope around the young man's shoulders. 
 Then, at a signal from the baronet, he wrapped 
 and re-wrapped his arms, thus rendering him 
 entirely powerless, even if he recovered his 
 senses. 
 
 " What next, sir ? " growled the Hercules, 
 breathing heavily, and gazing with knit brows 
 on the prostrate figure. 
 
 " Death ! " came in a low tone from the bar- 
 onet, whose face resembled that of a corpse. 
 " Death ! He has forced this on me ! Death ! 
 
316 BLUDGEON AND ROPE. 
 
 and death in presence of the dust of Giles 
 Maverick ! " 
 
 The Hercules started and turned pale. Hough 
 and unscrupulous as he was, the words of the 
 baronet horrified him. 
 
 " You don't mean " 
 
 "Yes," came in the same low voice from 
 the lips of Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke. " What 
 is the difference? It must not take place 
 here ! He must be lost sight of, or you and I 
 mount the gallows ! He must die that I may 
 live ! He shall not first put the rope around 
 my neck, and then, as the son of the Yiscouiit 
 Cecil, inherit this estate ! He shall die, and 
 yonder ! He has made himself the champion 
 of Giles Maverick! Let him wake to find 
 himself close to him in the vault ! Say 
 nothing ! I have resolved on it ! Refuse to 
 aid me, and you hang ! Two horses ! quick ! 
 and tools to open the Maverick vault ! Once 
 shut up there, he will not trouble us ! the 
 dead tell no tales 1 " 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE MAVEKICK VAULT. 
 
 hour afterwards, a strange, and terrible 
 scene took place at Llangollen church- 
 yard, a wild and secluded spot in the 
 hills, a league from Westbrooke Hall, 
 'he church, ancient and weather-beaten, 
 rose in the midst of a ghostly array of tomb- 
 stones ; and the- shadows of the sombre ever- 
 greens growing thickly along the rude stone 
 wall around the grounds, danced fantastically, 
 as a chill wind agitated their boughs, and 
 sobbed onward. 
 
 It was a weird and lugubrious night. The 
 moon was sailing through long streaks of ebon 
 clouds, reaching from horizon to horizon. At 
 one instant the lonely edifice, and the tombs 
 around it came out with sudden brilliance. 
 
 (317) 
 
318 THE MAVERICK VAULT. 
 
 Then the moon disappeared and all was 
 wrapped in gloom again, a gloom which the 
 sobbing wind rendered ghastly and funereal. 
 
 All at once, as the moon soared forth, light- 
 ing up the sombre tombstones and family 
 vaults, for Llangollen was the place of sepul- 
 ture for the gentry of the neighborhood, two 
 figures, carrying between them something which 
 they half supported and half dragged, got 
 over the wall, and rapidly approached a huge 
 stone set in the side of a knoll. This stone was 
 evidently the door to a large vault, and was se- 
 cured by an iron fastening. Over- it, cut in 
 rude letters on the coping was the single word 
 
 " Maverick." 
 
 The figures came on rapidly with their bur- 
 den, which, silent and insensible, resembled a 
 dead body. 
 
 " It is here," said one of the men. " Where 
 are the tools ? Wrench off the fastening." 
 
 The other obeyed the order, and, inserting an 
 instrument, succeeded in forcing the vault. 
 
 " Open ! " came from the other. 
 
 A huge shoulder was placed against the stone 
 and it slowly revolved, grating on its hinges. 
 
 Suddenly the neigh of a horse, from beyond 
 the wall, rang out. 
 
THE MAVERICK VAULT. 319 
 
 The two men started and trembled. 
 
 " It is nothing, only the horses ; quick, help 
 me to carry him in ! " came in a guttural whis- 
 per from the lips of Sir Murdaugh "VVestbrooke. 
 
 Wilde, panting and shaking in all his limbs, 
 obeyed. The body of Earle was lifted and 
 borne down the few steps into the vault. 
 
 " He will not live here ten minutes," mut- 
 tered Wilde, staggering back. "The air is 
 death to breathe." 
 
 " So much the better come ! " 
 
 And leaping out of the vault, the baronet 
 gained the open air. Wilde hastily followed 
 him, and, at a sign from his master, closed the 
 huge door. It went to with a dull clash. The 
 Hercules shuddered. 
 
 "Fasten the iron." 
 
 With a trembling hand, Wilde obeyed ; and 
 in a few moments the vault was heavily se- 
 cured. The baronet looked on with the expres- 
 sion of a fiend, during the work. 
 
 " And now, come," he said ; " but what is 
 that?" 
 
 And he pointed to a shadow, passing rapidly 
 beneath the evergreens. As he uttered the 
 words, the shadow darted toward the wall near 
 the horses. 
 
THE MAVERICK VAULT. 
 
 " A man ! some one has seen us." 
 
 The words escaped the baronet in a horrified 
 cry. He shuddered, and exclaimed. 
 
 "Pursue him ! he must die, or we are lost." 
 
 Wilde had not waited for the order. With 
 one bound he reached the wall ; as he cleared 
 it, a dark figure crossed the expanse without at 
 a run. Wilde followed ; the figure stumbled ; 
 a moment afterwards, they had clutched. 
 
 " You ! " cried Wilde, recognizing the gypsy. 
 
 The vagabond made no reply. 
 
 "You saw, then ?" gasped Wilde. 
 
 The words were followed by a cry from the 
 Hercules. The gypsy had drawn his knife, and 
 plunged it into the gamekeeper's heart 
 
 " Ah ! " groaned Wilde staggering back, " I 
 am dead ! but " 
 
 And suddenly wrenching the knife from the 
 gypsy, he drove it into his breast. 
 
 The weapon disappeared to the hilt, which 
 struck heavily against the gypsy's breast-bone. 
 
 " We die together at least," gasped Wilde, in 
 a broken voice. 
 
 And he fell, dragging the gypsy. 
 
 A moment afterwards, as the baronet hastened 
 to the spot, he half rose. 
 
 " I die," muttered Wilde " but he too ! " 
 
THE MAVERICK VAULT. 
 
 321 
 
 He pointed to the body of the gypsy, lying 
 on its back with the knife buried in the breast. 
 
 As Wilde spoke, his head drooped, the death- 
 rattle issued from his throat, and falling back, 
 he uttered a last groan and expired. 
 21 
 

 CHAPTEK XXIY. 
 
 THE MAN FROM WENTWOKTH CASTLE. 
 
 ) 
 
 T was nearly midnight. 
 
 Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke was sitting 
 in his library at Westbrooke Hall. 
 
 He seemed to have grown ten years 
 older since the morning, and was livid. 
 
 At every instant he looked over his shoulder, 
 and listened. 
 
 " Folly ! " he suddenly exclaimed, rising and 
 uttering a short, harsh laugh ; " am la baby to 
 start at shadows ! All is safe now ! discovery 
 is impossible. My plans succeed nothing 
 fails ! That woman is safe on board the Fly-by 
 Night now, and the marriage record is burned ! 
 That man is " 
 
 He stopped. In spite of himself a tremor 
 agitated him. 
 
 (322) 
 
MAN FROM WENTWORTH CASTLE. 323 
 
 " lie too has disappeared ! Thus nothing pre- 
 vents my marrying Ellinor Maverick 011 the 
 day after to-morrow ; and he will not be present 
 any more than that woman to convict me ! 
 Yes all is safe. I marry and I inherit the 
 Wentworth property. The obstacles have dis- 
 appeared even Gubbs and Wilde, my tools. 
 Gubbs will go to St. Domingo, and never more 
 be heard of; Wilde is yonder in the wood 
 where I dragged him and the dead gypsy. 
 When they are found, there will be no questions. 
 My gamekeeper has fought with a poacher, 
 and in the affray they have both been killed ! " 
 
 He sat down, pale and breathing heavily, des- 
 pite his reassuring reflections. 
 
 " And yet I tremble ! " he muttered ; " I start 
 at every sound ! " 
 
 The hoofs of a horse were heard without. 
 A mounted man was evidently approaching 
 rapidly. 
 
 The baronet started up. 
 
 " Who can that be ! " 
 
 As he spoke, a knock was heard at the front 
 door, and then silence followed. 
 
 The baronet seemed paralyzed. What to do ? 
 Should he secrete himself? Who was this mid- 
 night visitor ? 
 
324 MAN FROM WENTWORTH CASTLE. 
 
 " I am a coward ! shadows fright me ! I 
 will face all!" 
 
 And he went and opened the front door of 
 the house. It was necessary that he should do 
 so/ Beside Wilde there had been for weeks 
 only an old deaf crone of a servant at the 
 hall. 
 
 A serving man was seen at the door. 
 
 ' Well ? " said the baronet in a low tone. 
 
 The man's hand went to his hat. 
 
 " Has Captain Earle been here, your honor ? 
 I was sent by his lordship to ask, and say that 
 Captain Earle, who is staying at the castle, went 
 out for a short ride this evening, and an hour 
 or two afterwards his horse came back without 
 any rider. His lordship thought he might have 
 had an accident, and something might be known 
 of him here." 
 
 The baronet responded in a low tone. 
 
 "Why here?" 
 
 " His lordship did not say, your honor." 
 
 " Say to his lordship that I have seen nothing 
 of Captain Earle." 
 
 The servant touched his hat and retired. 
 
 The baronet closed the door, and staggered 
 rather than walked back to the library. 
 
 " Peril surrounds ine on every side I The 
 
MAN FROM WENTWORTH CASTLE. 325 
 
 gliost of that boy rises to point to the spot where 
 he is entombed alive ! Was I mad to do that ? 
 Am I then the monster of monsters ? " 
 
 He fell into a seat. 
 
 " Doubtless, since I do this monstrous thing ! 
 "Well, let me act out my character ! I will go 
 through now to the end ! Once married, I will 
 go abroad and only return when the viscount is 
 dead ! Dead ? If he were only dead now, all 
 were well ! " 
 
 A cry of pain followed the words. 
 
 He had violently clenched his hands. The 
 movement of that upon which the dissecting 
 knife had inflicted the wound, causetl him acute 
 agony. 
 
 " I had forgotten that ! " he muttered, gazing 
 at the slight puncture, from which he had long 
 removed the bandage ; " who would have be- 
 lieved that a scratch would cause so much pain ? " 
 
 He pondered for more than an hour. Then 
 he suddenly rose. 
 
 " The die is cast ! Why draw back now ! " 
 he muttered. "All is decided. In two days I 
 shall be married and on my way to France ! " 
 
 A smile of ghastly triumph distorted his lips 
 as he spoke, and, taking a light from the table, 
 he went to his chamber. 
 
CHAPTEK XXV. 
 
 THE WEDDING AT LLANGOLLEN. 
 
 T was two days after these scenes. 
 
 The coast of Pembrokeshire was 
 bathed in a flood of brilliant sunshine. 
 The great headland above Oldport 
 rose like a giant in the fresh light. The foam 
 danced and sparkled ; and even the sombre 
 firs of the hills seemed more cheerful for 
 this illumination, driving away the mists of 
 autumn. 
 
 At Llangollen church in the hills, a large 
 crowd had assembled. It was the day of Sir 
 Murdaugh "Westbrooke's marriage to Miss 
 Ellinor Maverick. 
 
 The selection of Llangollen church as the 
 scene of the marriage ceremony had been made 
 at the last moment, and in spite of the baronet's 
 (326) 
 
THE WEDDING AT LLANGOLLEN. 327 
 
 persistent objections. The fair Ellinor, how- 
 ever, had not been his opponent in the discus- 
 sion. The old dowager, Lady Worsham, at 
 whose house the young lady had " taken 
 refuge," as she said, had been seized with a fit 
 of piety or religious etiquette, it seemed ; and 
 under the influence of this sentiment she had 
 obstinately announced that the wedding feast 
 might be at her house, but the ceremony must 
 be at Llangollen church. 
 
 The old dowager had triumphed. The bar- 
 onet found her immovable, and with fear and 
 trembling yielded. 
 
 " After all," he said to himself, " what have 
 I to fear ? A ghost ? men do not live two 
 days in " 
 
 The words died away in his throat. 
 
 " So be it, madam," he said. 
 
 And bowing .sullenly, he went to make his 
 preparations. 
 
 The morning came, and the announcement 
 of the intended ceremony had drawn a great 
 crowd, both of the gentry and the plainer peo- 
 ple. Chariots stopped at the gate, and dis- 
 charged their burdens of lord and lady. A 
 crowd watched there, moving unquietly to and 
 fro in front of the gateway. Among the crowd 
 
328 THE WEDDING AT LLANGOLLEN. 
 
 were seen many of the fraternity of the wolves, 
 rough figures, brought thither by some 
 stronger sentiment, it seemed, than curiosity, 
 and whose eyes were fixed on the pageant with 
 ill-concealed hostility. 
 
 At last the chariot of Lady "Worsham, con- 
 taining the dowager, Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke, and Miss Ellinor Maverick drove up to 
 the gateway. 
 
 From it issued, first, the baronet, clad with 
 unusual splendor, but as pale as death. Then 
 came the ladies : they entered the church, 
 and a great crowd surged in after them. 
 
 In front of the altar stood the priest in his 
 black canonicals. The bridal party if that 
 could be called a party consisting of but two 
 or three persons ascended the aisle, took 
 their positions before the priest, and the cere- 
 mony was about to begin. ' 
 
 From the body of the church, gloomy, in 
 spite of the sunshine, a great crowd followed 
 the details of the scene, with varied emotions. 
 
 Many were there from simple curiosity. 
 Others came from want of means to otherwise 
 kill the time. Others, and they were num- 
 erous gazed with ill-concealed hostility on 
 the pale bridegroom. Never popular, or per- 
 
THE WEDDING AT LLANGOLLEN. 329 
 
 sonally attractive, the baronet had now few 
 well-wishers, and was so livid as to appear 
 hideous. 
 
 One thing about him everybody observed 
 his head hung down, and moved from side to 
 side. As it thus moved, wary and fearful 
 glances shot from beneath his gray eyebrows; 
 more than once he looked furtively over his 
 shoulder as though fearful of something. As 
 he took his place beside the beautiful Ellinor, 
 he was observed to shudder. 
 
 She was radiant, and her splendid costume 
 set off her dazzling and magnetic beauty. It 
 was plain that no doubts or misgivings affected 
 her. She was about to become the wife of a 
 man of great wealth and high rank her 
 worldly ambition was soon to be fully grati- 
 fied ; and in the dark eyes of the fair Ellinor, 
 as she rustled up to the chancel, in her grand 
 white satin, could be read haughty triumph, 
 and the fruition of all her hopes. 
 
 The ceremony began. As it did so, a mur- 
 mur issued from the crowd. They were saying 
 to each other, " How beautiful ! " and " How 
 hideous ! " 
 
 But Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke did not hear 
 them. All his powers seemed to be concen- 
 
330 THE WEDDING AT LLANGOLLEN. 
 
 trated into the one faculty of listening. His 
 face resembled the drawn and parchment-like 
 outlines of a corpse. lie plainly feared some- 
 thing some miracle, it might be the invis- 
 ible fate seemed approaching. 
 
 It came. 
 
 The priest proceeded with the ceremony, and 
 reached the passage. 
 
 "Into this holy estate these two persons 
 present come now to be joined." 
 
 He looked up from the book. 
 
 " If any man can show just cause why they 
 may not lawfully be joined together, let him 
 now speak, or hereafter forever hold his peace." 
 
 As the words issued from the priest's lips, a 
 woman in a black dress advanced slowly up the 
 aisle. All saw her coming, and a hundred eyes 
 were directed toward her. 
 
 The priest gazed at her in utter astonishment. 
 The hand containing the prayer-book sunk to 
 his side. 
 
 The woman came on, slow, silent, with the 
 noiseless tread of a ghost. 
 
 Suddenly the baronet raised his head. His 
 startled eyes roamed from side to side. He 
 glanced over his shoulder. As he did so, he 
 uttered a low cry. 
 
THE WEDDING AT LLANGOLLEN". 331 
 
 " There is just cause," said the recluse, in a 
 low, clear voice, u why Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke should not marry. I am Lady West- 
 brooke. Here is the record of my marriage." 
 
 And she extended toward the priest the frag- 
 ments of the leaf of the marriage register stolen 
 from Martigny. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE VENGEANCE OF A BLOOD-HOUND. 
 
 IR MUKDAUGH WESTBROOKE 
 tottered, and leaned on the chancel 
 railing. 
 
 Ellinor Maverick uttered a low scream, 
 and fell back fainting in the arms of Lady 
 "Worsham. 
 
 The crowd in the body of the church rose, 
 and towering above them could be seen the 
 commanding figure of the Viscount Cecil, who 
 made a gesture to some one and said coldly, 
 " The moment lias come ! " 
 Then a shudder ran through the assembly. 
 It opened right and left, and through the 
 space thus made advanced a procession of the 
 wolves, bearing on their shoulders 
 EAELE ! 
 
 (332) 
 
VENGEANCE OF A BLOOD-HOUND. 333 
 
 The young man was wasted to a shadow. 
 His face was paler than ashes. His eyes were 
 sunken and bloodshot. He lay on the brawny 
 shoulders of his brother wolves, as weak as a 
 sick child, and as he was borne up the aisle 
 fixed his eyes on the baronet, and whispered 
 rather than said, 
 
 " That is he." 
 
 The priest advanced hurriedly. 
 
 " What means this scene ? Who is this sick 
 man?" 
 
 " Ask the witness I have brought here." 
 said the viscount 
 
 And he pointed to the rear of the strange 
 procession. 
 
 Supported between two of the wolves, was 
 seen the gypsy, as pale and wasted as Earle. 
 His eyes alone seemed alive as he staggered on 
 between his two supporters, and those eyes, dark 
 and fiery, were fixed upon the countenance of 
 the baronet. 
 
 The priest uttered an exclamation. 
 
 "My lord! the meaning of all this!" he 
 faltered. 
 
 "It means that the person whom you see 
 there, has attempted both bigamy and murder," 
 said the viscount. 
 
334 VENGEANCE OF A BLOOD-HOUND. 
 
 And with his arm extended at full length, he 
 pointed straight toward Sir Murdaugh West- 
 brooke. 
 
 " Do you doubt ? look at him ! " 
 
 And his extended arm remained motionless. 
 
 " Did I need the testsmony of his face, that 
 would convict him ! " said the viscount slowly 
 and solemnly. " But that is not needed. 
 There are witnesses, Listen ! people of Pem- 
 brokeshire ! " 
 
 And turning to the crowd, 
 
 " Sir Murdaugh "VYestbrooke married . in 
 France and there is his wife. He attempts 
 to marry again, and has stolen the record 
 there it is. He stole my child the only child 
 of my poor wife who, died twenty years since 
 to inherit from me, and buried that child alive 
 there he is ! But two days since all this was 
 arranged, as he supposed, securely. The first 
 wife was sent toward the coast to be carried 
 abroad, and I met and was appealed to by 
 her. The child my child was knocked 
 down and dragged to this very spot, and buried 
 alive in the Maverick vaults, by the murderer 
 of Giles Maverick ; and a poor gypsy who 
 saw the infamy, and was left as they thought 
 dead, dragged his bleeding body to Oldport, 
 
VENGEANCE OF A BLOOD-HOUND. 335 
 
 where he gave the alarm to the brave chief of 
 the wolves there. They came and rescued him, 
 almost dying ! There he is ! " 
 
 He pointed to Earle. 
 
 An immense shout rose from the assembly. 
 
 " Death ! death to him ! " cried the wolves ; 
 " he tried to murder a wolf ! Death to the 
 murderer ! " 
 
 As they spoke, they rushed straight on the 
 baronet, Goliath at their head. 
 
 " Death ! death ! " rose in hoarse thunder 
 from the ferocious crowd. 
 
 And they were about to tear the baronet to 
 pieces. 
 
 Suddenly Goliath recoiled, and the crowd 
 behind him, felt the pressure of his huge bulk. 
 
 " Look at him ! look at the murderer ! " he 
 growled in terrified tones, pointing to the bar- 
 onet. 
 
 The sight was terrible indeed. 
 
 Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke foamed at the 
 mouth, and his huge red tongue was hanging 
 out. His eyes glared around him with a vacant 
 and animal expression. All at once he began 
 to pant quickly, as a dog does when he is heated, 
 then he snapped, uttered a growl, which ended 
 in a sound like a bark, and rushed straight upon 
 
336 VENGEANCE OF A BLOOD-HOUND. 
 
 the crowd, who gave way with terror, as he 
 came. 
 
 " The mad dog ! He was bitten ! his bite 
 is deadly ! " 
 
 Some one uttered those words. 
 
 Their effect was instant. 
 
 The crowd recoiled, and leaped over the 
 backs of the seats, to avoid him. 
 
 He did not attempt to follow them. They 
 seemed to have disappeared from his view. 
 The wretched man, who had inoculated his 
 blood with the mad dog's virus, when he 
 punctured his hand, in dissecting the corpse, 
 bitten by the animal, was now fully mastered 
 by the poison, and turned into a beast. Hydro- 
 phobia that most awful of human scourges 
 had clutched him. He saw nothing, heard 
 nothing, rushed on, he knew not whither, snap- 
 ing, and uttering hoarse cries. When he was 
 followed into the churchyard, it was seen that 
 he made for the Maverick vault. 
 
 " There are two men murdered here ! One 
 is alive ! " he growled, tearing at the huge 
 stone. 
 
 Four men threw themselves upon him, and 
 seized him. They were scarce able to hold 
 him. Tetanus had set in with mortal violence ; 
 
VENGEANCE OF A BLOOD-HOUND. 337 
 
 and he was borne foaming, raving,, and strug- 
 gling to Westbrooke hall. 
 
 Three more paroxysms assailed the miserable 
 man before midnight. 
 
 As the last died away, he fell back a corpse 
 in the arms of his attendants. 
 
 The dog of the murdered man, Giles Mav- 
 erick, had avenged his master. He had bitten 
 and poisoned the wolf ; and the dead wolf had 
 poisoned the murderer. 
 
 The gallows was spared the trouble. Hydro- 
 phobia ended all. 
 23 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE WOLVES CELEBRATE THE MARRIAGE OF 
 THEIR CHIEF. 
 
 UR narrative might here appropriately 
 end, but a few words more may interest 
 the reader. 
 
 As the baronet rushed from Llangollen 
 Church, Ellinor Maverick was borne out faint- 
 ing, by Lady "Worsham; and a month after- 
 wards they went abroad, returning only some 
 years afterwards to Pembrokeshire. 
 
 Earle, his mother, and the gypsy were led 
 forth in triumph by the wolves and as the 
 young man raised his head in the fresh sun- 
 shine, he felt his father's arms around him. 
 Thereat the wolves uttered a shout. 
 "It be his son! the son of the good vis- 
 (338) 
 
MARRIAGE CELEBRATION. '. 339 
 
 count ! he be the chief of the wolves ! " shouted 
 Goliath. 
 
 And again they caught up Earle and bore 
 him to the viscount's coach, on their shoulders, 
 in triumph. 
 
 " You be the chief, master, remember ! " re- 
 peated Goliath. , 
 
 And he uttered a second shout. The wolves 
 howled in response, and the sound rang through 
 the hills like thunder. 
 
 It was still reverberating in the fir-clad 
 gorges, when the chariot with Earle, his moth- 
 er, the gypsy, and the viscount, disappeared. 
 
 In an hour they were at Wentworth Castle. 
 
 A year after these events, Edmond, son of the 
 Viscount Cecil, was married to Rose Maverick, 
 at Maverick House. 
 
 Lady Westbrooke remained at "Wentworth 
 Castle. Nothing could induce her to inhabit 
 her dower estate of Westbrooke Hall. 
 
 Arthur Maverick remained unmarried. Elli- 
 nor returned only some years afterwards, and 
 never appeared in society; dedicating her time 
 to Lady Worsham, from whom she expected to 
 inherit an estate. 
 
 The gypsy, promoted to the post of head 
 
3iO MARRIAGE CELEBRATION. 
 
 gamekeeper at Wentworth Castle, lived and 
 died, loved and trusted by Earle. 
 
 So terminated the drama such were the 
 fates of the personages. 
 
 The Yiscount Cecil seemed, more than all 
 others, content with the denouement. He had 
 regained his son, arid that son was married to 
 his favorite Rose. 
 
 The wedding was a grand one. No less a 
 person than Lieutenant Dargonne made his ap- 
 pearance, and laughed and drank his old cap- 
 tain's health. Then the cortege set out from 
 Maverick House for Wentworth Castle. As it 
 approached Oldport, an ovation awaited it. The 
 wolves attacked it all at once, with loud cries. 
 
 The horses were taken from the chariot con- 
 taining Earle an^L his blushing bride ; brawny 
 hands seized the vehicle and drew it on amid 
 cries of rejoicing. And above the ferocious 
 crowd, with bearded faces and brandished arms, 
 rose the shout of Goliath, 
 
 "He be the chief of the wolves ! " 
 
 THE END. 
 
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985799 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY