UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES 
 
 i , -- - 

 
 SHORT STORIES 
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE — THE HOUSE ON 
 THE BEACH — FARINA — THE CASE OF 
 GENERAL OPLE AND LADY CAMPER 
 
 IT 
 
 GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 • 
 
 REVISED EDITION 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 1917 
 
 4 • 
 
 c 3 o
 
 COPYRIGHT. 1898, BY 
 GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
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 CONTENTS 
 
 V » 
 
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 FAGK 
 
 THE TALE OP CHLOE 3 
 
 I 
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 69 
 
 FARINA 159 
 
 i 
 
 i THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE AND LADY CAMPER ... 261 
 
 )
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 A.N EPISODE IN THE HISTORY OF BEAU BEAMISH
 
 •v.
 
 SHORT STORIES 
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE — THE HOUSE ON THE 
 
 BEACH — FARINA — THE CASE OF GENERAL 
 
 OPLE AND LADY CAMPER

 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 " Fair Chloe, we toasted of old, 
 
 As the Queen of our festival meeting ; 
 Now Chloe is lifeless and cold ; 
 
 You must go to the grave for her greeting. 
 
 Her beauty and talents were framed 
 
 To enkindle the proudest to win her; 
 Then let not the mem'ry be blamed 
 
 Of the purest that e'er was a sinner ! " 
 
 Captain Chanter's Collection. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A proper tenderness for the Peerage will continue to 
 pass current the illustrious gentleman who was inflamed 
 by Cupid's darts to espouse the milkmaid, or dairymaid, 
 under his ballad title of Duke of Dewlap : nor was it the 
 smallest of the services rendered him by Beau Beamish, 
 that he clapped the name upon her rustic Grace, the young 
 duchess, the very first day of her arrival at the Wells. 
 This happy inspiration of a wit never failing at a pinch 
 has rescued one of our princeliest houses from the assaults 
 of the vulgar, who are ever too rejoiced to bespatter and 
 disfigure a brilliant coat-of-arms ; insomuch that the 
 ballad, to which we are indebted for the narrative of the 
 meeting and marriage of the ducal pair, speaks of Dewlap 
 in good faith : 
 
 O the ninth Duke of Dewlap I am, Susie dear! 
 
 without a hint of a domino title. So likewise the pictorial 
 historian is merry over " Dewlap alliances " in his descrip-
 
 4 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 tion of the society of that period. He has read the ballad, 
 but disregarded the memoirs of the beau. Writers of 
 pretension would seem to have an animus against individ- 
 uals of the character of Mr. Beamish. They will treat of 
 the habits and manners of highwaymen, and quote obscure 
 broadsheets and songs of the people to colour their story, 
 yet decline to bestow more than a passing remark upon our 
 domestic kings : because they are not hereditary, we may 
 suppose. 
 
 The ballad of "The Duke and the Dairymaid," ascribed 
 with questionable authority to the pen of Mr. Beamish 
 himself in a freak of his gaiety, was once popular enough 
 to provoke the moralist to animadversions upon an order 
 of composition that "tempted every bouncing country lass 
 to sidle an eye in a blowsy cheek" in expectation of a 
 coronet for her pains — and a wet ditch as the result ! We 
 may doubt it to have been such an occasion of mischief. 
 But that mischief may have been done by it to a nobility- 
 loving people, even to the love of our nobility among the 
 people, must be granted; and for the particular reason, 
 that the hero of the ballad behaved so handsomely. We 
 perceive a susceptibility to adulteration in their worship 
 at the sight of one of their number, a young maid, sud- 
 denly snatched up to the gaping heights of Luxury and 
 Fashion through sheer good looks. Remembering that 
 they are accustomed to a totally reverse effect from that 
 possession, it is very perceptible how a breach in their 
 reverence may come of the change. 
 
 Otherwise the ballad is innocent; certainly it is inno- 
 cent in design. A fresher national song of a beautiful 
 incident of our country life has never been written. The 
 sentiments are natural, the imagery is apt and redolent of 
 the soil, the music of the verse appeals to the dullest ear. 
 It has no smell of the lamp, nothing foreign and far-fetched 
 about it, but is just what it pretends to be, the carol of the 
 native bird. A sample will show, for the ballad is much 
 too long to be given entire : 
 
 Sweet Susie she tripped on a shiny May morn, 
 Ab blithe as the lark from the green-springing corn, 
 When, hard by a stile, 't was her luck to behold 
 A wonderful gentleman covered with gold i
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 5 
 
 There was gold on his hreeches and gold on his coat, 
 His shirt-frill was grand as a fifty-pound note; 
 The diamonds glittered all up him so bright, 
 She thought him the Milky Way clothing a Sprite! 
 
 " Fear not, pretty maiden," he said with a smile ; 
 " And, pray, let me help you in crossing the stile." 
 She bobbed him a curtsey so lovely and smart, 
 It shot like an arrow and fixed in his heart. 
 
 As light as a robin she hopped to the stone, 
 But fast was her hand in the gentleman's own ; 
 And guess how she stared, nor her senses could trust, 
 When this creamy gentleman knelt in the dust ! 
 
 With a rhapsody upon her beauty, he informs her of his 
 rank, for a nourish to the proposal of honourable and 
 immediate marriage. He cannot wait. This is the fatal 
 condition of his love: apparently a characteristic of amor- 
 ous dukes. We read them in the signs extended to us. 
 The minds of these august and solitary men have not yet 
 been sounded; they are too distant. Standing upon their 
 lofty pinnacles, they are as legible to the rabble below as a 
 line of cuneiform writing in a page of old copy-book 
 roundhand. By their deeds we know them, as heathen- 
 dom knows of its gods ; and it is repeatedly on record that 
 the moment they have taken fire they must wed, though 
 the lady's finger be circled with nothing closer fitting than 
 a ring of the bed-curtain. Vainly, as becomes a candid 
 country lass, blue-eyed Susan tells him that she is but a 
 poor dairymaid. He has been a student of women at 
 Courts, in which furnace the sex becomes a transparency, 
 so he recounts to her the catalogue of material advantages 
 he has to offer. Finally, after his assurances that she is 
 to be married by the parson, really by the parson, and a 
 real parson — 
 
 Sweet Susie is off for her parents' consent, 
 
 And long must the old folk debate what it meant. 
 
 She left them the eve of that happy May morn, 
 
 To shine like the blossom that hangs from the thorn ! 
 
 Apart from its historical value, the ballad is an example 
 to poets of our day, who fly to mythological Greece, or a 
 fanciful and morbid medievalism, or — save the mark 1 —
 
 6 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 abstract ideas, for themes of song, of what may be done to 
 make our English life poetically interesting, if they would 
 but pluck the treasures presented them by the wayside; 
 and Nature being now as then the passport to popularity, 
 they have themselves to thank for their little hold on the 
 heart of the people. A living native duke is worth fifty 
 Phoebus Apollos to Englishmen, and a buxom young lass 
 of the fields mounting from a pair of pails to the estate of 
 duchess, a more romantic object than troops of your vision- 
 ary Yseults and Guineveres. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A certain time after the marriage, his Grace alighted 
 at the Wells, and did himself the honour to call on Mr. 
 Beamish. Addressing that gentleman, to whom he was 
 no stranger, he communicated the purport of his visit. 
 
 "Sir, and my very good friend," he said, "first let me 
 beg you to abate the severity of your countenance, for if I 
 am here in breach of your prohibition, I shall presently 
 depart in compliance with it. I could indeed deplore the 
 loss of the passion for play of which you effectually cured 
 me. I was then armed against a crueller, that allows of 
 no interval for a man to make his vow to recover ! " 
 
 "The disease which is all crisis, I apprehend," Mr. 
 Beamish remarked. 
 
 "Which, sir, when it takes hold of dry wood, burns to 
 the last splinter. It is now" — the duke fetched a tender 
 groan — " three years ago that I had a caprice to marry a 
 grandchild! " 
 
 "Of Adam's," Mr. Beamish said cheerfully. "There 
 was no legitimate bar to the union." 
 
 " Unhappily none. Yet you are not to suppose I regret 
 it. A most admirable creature, Mr. Beamish, a real 
 divinity! And the better known, the more adored. 
 There is the misfortune. At my season of life, when the 
 greater and the minor organs are in a conspiracy to tell
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 7 
 
 me I am mortal, the passion of love must be welcomed as 
 a calamity, though one would uot be free of it for the 
 renewal of youth. You are to understand, that with a 
 little awakening taste for dissipation, she is the most 
 innocent of angels. Hitherto we have lived ... To her 
 it has been a new world. But she is beginning to find it 
 a narrow one. No, no, she is not tired of my society. 
 Very far from that. But in her present station an inclina- 
 tion for such gatherings as you have here, for example, is 
 like a desire to take the air: and the healthy habits of my 
 duchess have not accustomed her to be immured. And in 
 fine, devote ourselves as we will, a term approaches when 
 the enthusiasm for serving as your wife's playfellow all 
 day, running round tables and flying along corridors before 
 a knotted handkerchief, is mightily relaxed. Yet the 
 dread of a separation from her has kept me at these pas- 
 times for a considerable period beyond my relish of them. 
 Not that I acknowledge fatigue. I have, it seems, a 
 taste for reflection; I am now much disposed to read and 
 meditate, which cannot be done without repose. I settle 
 myself, and I receive a worsted ball in my face, and I am 
 expected to return it. I comply; and then you would 
 say a nursery in arms. It would else be the deplorable 
 spectacle of a beautiful young woman yawning." 
 
 "Earthquake and saltpetre threaten us less terribly," 
 said Mr. Beamish. 
 
 " In fine, she has extracted a promise that this summer 
 she shall visit the Wells for a month, and I fear I cannot 
 break my pledge of my word; I fear I cannot." 
 
 "Very certainly I would not," said Mr. Beamish. 
 
 The duke heaved a sigh. "There are reasons, family 
 reasons, why my company and protection must be denied 
 to her here. I have no wish . . . indeed my name, for 
 the present, until such time as she shall have found her 
 feet . . . and there is ever a penalty to pay for that. 
 Ah, Mr. Beamish, pictures are ours, when we have bought 
 them and hung them up; but who insures us possession of 
 a beautiful work of Nature ? I have latterly betaken me 
 to reflect much and seriously. I am tempted to side with 
 the Divines in the sermons I have read; the flesh is the 
 habitation of a rebellious devil."
 
 8 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 "To whom we object in proportion as we ourselves 
 become quit of him," Mr. Beamish acquiesced. 
 
 "But this mania of young people for pleasure, eternal 
 pleasure, is one of the wonders. It does not pall on 
 them; they are insatiate." 
 
 " There is the cataract, and there is the cliff. Potentate 
 to potentate, duke — so long as you are on my territory, 
 be it understood. Upon my way to a place of worship 
 once, I passed a Puritan, who was complaining of a butter- 
 fly that fluttered prettily abroad in desecration of the Day 
 of Best. ' Friend, ' said I to him, ' conclusively you prove 
 to me that you are not a butterfly.' Surly did no more 
 than favour me with the anathema of his countenance." 
 
 "Cousin Beamish, my complaint of these young people 
 is, that they miss their pleasure in pursuing it. I have 
 lectured my duchess " 
 
 "Ha!" 
 
 "Foolish, I own," said the duke. "But suppose, now, 
 you had caught your butterfly, and you could neither 
 let it go nor consent to follow its vagaries. That poses 
 you." 
 
 "Young people," said Mr. Beamish, "come under my 
 observation in this poor realm of mine — young and old. 
 I find them prodigiously alike in their love of pleasure, 
 differing mainly in their capacity to satisfy it. That is , 
 no uncommon observation. The young have an edge 
 which they are desirous of blunting; the old contrariwise. 
 The cry of the young for pleasure is actually — I have 
 studied their language — a cry for burdens. Curious! 
 And the old ones cry for having too many on their shoul- 
 ders : which is not astonishing. Between them they make 
 an agreeable concert both to charm the ears and guide the 
 steps of the philosopher, whose wisdom it is to avoid their 
 tracks." 
 
 " Good. But I have asked you for practical advice, and 
 you give me an essay." 
 
 " For the reason, duke, that you propose a case that 
 suggests hanging. You mention two things impossible to 
 be done. The alternative is, a garter and the bed-post. 
 When we have come upon crossways, and we can decide 
 neither to take the right hand nor the left, neither forward
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE P 
 
 nor back, the index of the board •which would direct us 
 points to itself, and emphatically says, Gallows." 
 
 "Beamish, I am distracted. If I refuse her the visit, I 
 foresee dissensions, tears, games at ball, romps, not one 
 day of rest remaining to me. I could be of a mind with 
 your Puritan, positively. If I allow it, so innocent a 
 creature in the atmosphere of a place like this must suffer 
 some corruption. You should know that the station I 
 took her from was ... it was modest. She was abso- 
 lutely a buttercup of the fields. She has had various 
 masters. She dances . . . she dances prettily, I could say 
 bewitchingly. And so she is now for airing her accom- 
 plishments: such are women ! " 
 
 " Have you heard of Chloe ? " said Mr. Beamish. 
 " There you have an example of a young lady uncorrupted 
 by this place — of which I would only remark that it is 
 best unvisited, but better tasted than longed for." 
 
 " Chloe ? A lady who squandered her fortune to redeem 
 some ill-requiting rascal: I remember to have heard of 
 her. She is here still ? And ruined, of course ? " 
 
 "In purse." 
 
 "That cannot be without the loss of reputation." 
 
 "Chloe's champion will grant that she is exposed to the 
 evils of improvidence. The more brightly shine her 
 native purity, her goodness of heart, her trustfulness. 
 She is a lady whose exaltation glows in her abasement." 
 
 "She has, I see, preserved her comeliness," observed 
 the duke, with a smile. 
 
 "Despite the flying of the roses, which had not her 
 heart's patience. J Tis now the lily that reigns. So, 
 then, Chloe shall be attached to the duchess during her 
 stay, and unless the devil himself should interfere, I 
 guarantee her Grace against any worse harm than experi- 
 ence; and that," Mr. Beamish added, as the duke raised 
 his arms at the fearful word, "that shall be mild. Play 
 she will; she is sure to play. Put it down at a thousand. 
 We map her out a course of permissible follies, and she 
 plays to lose the thousand by degrees, with as telling an 
 effect upon a connubial conscience as we can produce." 
 
 "A thousand," said the duke, "will be cheap indeed. I 
 think now I have had a description of this fair Chloe, and
 
 10 THE TALE OP CHLOE 
 
 from an enthusiast; a brune ? elegantly mannered and of 
 a good landed family; though she has thought proper to 
 conceal her name. And that will be our difficulty, cousin 
 Beamish." 
 
 "She was, under my dominion, Miss Martinsward," 
 Mr. Beamish pursued. " She came here very young, and 
 at once her suitors were legion. In the way of women, 
 she chose the worst among them; and for the fellow 
 Caseldy she sacrificed the fortune she had inherited of a 
 maternal uncle. To release him from prison, she paid all 
 his debts; a mountain of bills, with the lawyers piled 
 above — Pelion upon Ossa, to quote our poets. In fact, 
 obeying the dictates of a soul steeped in generosity, she 
 committed the indiscretion to strip herself, scandalizing 
 propriety. This was immediately on her coming of age; 
 and it was the death-blow to her relations with her 
 family. Since then, honoured even by rakes, she has lived 
 impoverished at the Wells. I dubbed her Chloe, and man 
 »r woman disrespectful to Chloe packs. From being the 
 victim of her generous disposition, I could not save her; 
 I can protect her from the shafts of malice." 
 
 " She has no passion for play ? " inquired the duke. 
 
 "She nourishes a passion for the man for whom she 
 bl")d, to the exclusion of the\other passions. She lives, 
 and I believe I may say that it is' the motive of her rising 
 and dressing daily, in expectation of his advent." 
 
 "He may be dead." 
 
 " The dog is alive. And he has not ceased to be Hand- 
 some Caseldy, they say. Between ourselves, duke, there 
 is matter to break her heart. He has been the Count 
 Caseldy of Continental gaming tables, and he is recently 
 Sir Martin Caseldy, settled on the estate she made him 
 free to take up intact on his father's decease." 
 
 "Pah! a villain!" 
 
 " With a blacker brand upon him every morning that he 
 looks forth across his property, and leaves her to languish ! 
 She still — I say it to the redemption of our sex — has 
 offers. Her incomparable attractions of mind and person 
 exercise the natural empire of beauty. But she will none 
 of them. I call her the Fair Suicide. She has died for 
 love; and she is a ghost, a good gnost, and a pleasing 
 ghost, but an apparition, a taper." 
 
 V
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 11 
 
 The duke fidgeted, and expressed a hope to hear that 
 she was not of melancholy conversation; and again, that 
 the subject of her discourse was not confined to love and 
 lovers, happy or unhappy. He wished his duchess, he 
 said, to be entertained upon gayer topics: love being a 
 theme he desired to reserve to himself. "This month!" 
 hp oairt, prognostically shaking and moaning. "I would 
 this month were over, and that we were well purged of it." 
 
 Mr. Beamish reassured him. The wit and sprightliness 
 of Chloe were so famous as to be considered medical, he 
 affirmed; she was besieged for her company; she composed 
 and sang impromptu verses, she played harp and harpsi- 
 chord divinely, and touched the guitar, and danced, danced 
 like the silvery moon on the waters of the mill pool. He 
 concluded by saying that she was both humane and wise, 
 humble-minded and amusing, virtuous yet not a Tartar; 
 the best of companions for her Grace the young duchess. 
 Moreover, he boldly engaged to carry the duchess through 
 the term of her visit under a name that should be as good 
 as a masquerade for concealing his Grace's, while giving 
 her all the honours due to her rank. 
 
 "You strictly interpret my wishes," said the duke; "all 
 honours, the foremost place, and my wrath upon man or 
 woman gainsaying them! " 
 
 "Mine! if you please, duke," said Mr. Beamish. 
 
 "A thousand pardons! I leave it to you, cousin. I 
 could not be in safer hands. I am heartily bounden to 
 you Chloe, then. By the way, she has a decent respect 
 for age ? " 
 
 "She is reverentially inclined." 
 
 "Not that. She is, I would ask, no wanton prattler of 
 the charms and advantages of youth ? " 
 
 " She has a young adorer that I have dubbed Alonzo, 
 whom she scarce notices." 
 
 "Nothing could be better. Alonzo: h'm! A faithful 
 swgin ? " 
 
 tfljife is his tree, upon which unceasingly he carves his 
 mJstress's initials-" 
 
 " She should~-&ot be too cruel. I recollect myself for- 
 merly: I was . . . Young men will, when long slighted, 
 transfer their affections, and be warmer to the second flame
 
 12 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 ish&n to the first. I put you on your guard. He fol- 
 lows her much? These lovers' pantings and puffings in 
 the neighbourhood of the most innocent of women are 
 contagious." 
 
 " Her Grace will be running home all the sooner." 
 
 "Or off! — may she forgive me! I am like a King 
 John's Jew, forced to lend his treasure without security- 
 What a world is ours! Nothing, Beamish, nothing desir- 
 able will you have which is not coveted! Catch a prize, 
 and you will find you are at war with your species. You 
 have to be on the defensive from that moment. There is 
 no such thing as peaceable possession on earth. Let it be 
 a beautiful young woman ! — Ah ! " 
 
 Mr. Beamish replied bracingly, " The champion wrestler 
 challenges all comers while he wears the belt." 
 
 The duke dejectedly assented. "True; or he is chal- 
 lenged, say. Is there any tale we could tell her of this 
 Alonzo ? You could deport him for the month, my dear 
 Beamish." 
 
 "I commit no injustice unless with sufficient reason. It 
 is an estimable youth, as shown by his devotion to a peer- 
 less woman. To endow her with his name and fortune is 
 his only thought." 
 
 "I perceive; an excellent young fellow! I have an 
 incipient liking for this young Alonzo. You must not 
 permit my duchess to laugh at him. Encourage her rather 
 to advance his suit. The silliness of a young man will be 
 no bad spectacle. Chloe, then. You have set my mind at 
 rest, Beamish, and it is but another obligation added to 
 the heap; so, if I do not speak of payment, the reason is 
 that I know you would not have me bankrupt." 
 
 The remainder of the colloquy of the duke and Mr. 
 Beamish referred to the date of her Grace's coming to the 
 Wells, the lodgement she was to receive, and other minor 
 arrangements bearing upon her state and comfort; the 
 duke perpetually observing, "But I leave it all to you, 
 Beamish," when he had laid down precise instructions in 
 these respects, even to the specification of the shopkeepers, 
 the confectioner and the apothecary, who were to balance 
 or cancel one another in the opposite nature of their 
 supplies, and the haberdasher and the jeweller, with
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 13 
 
 whom she was to make her purchases. For the duke had 
 a recollection of giddy shops, and of giddy shopmen too; 
 and it was by serving as one for a day that a certain great 
 nobleman came to victory with a jealously guarded dame 
 beautiful as Venus. "I would have challenged the god- 
 dess! " he cried, and subsided from his enthusiasm plain- 
 tively, like a weak wind instrument. "So there you see 
 the prudence of a choice of shops. But I leave it to you, 
 Beamish." Similarly the great military commander, 
 having done whatsoever a careful prevision may suggest to 
 insure him victory, casts himself upon Providence, with 
 the hope of propitiating the unanticipated and darkly 
 possible. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 The splendid equipage of a coach and six, with foot- 
 men in scarlet and green, carried Beau Beamish five miles 
 along the road on a sunny day to meet the young duchess 
 at the boundary of his territory, and conduct her in state 
 to the Wells. Chloe sat beside him, receiving counsel with 
 regard to her prospective duties. He was this day the 
 consummate beau, suave, but monarchical, and his manner 
 of speech partook of his external grandeur. " Spy me the 
 horizon, and apprise me if somewhere you distinguish a 
 chariot," he said, as they drew up on the rise of a hill 
 of long descent, where the dusty roadway sank between 
 its brown hedges, and crawled mounting from dry rush- 
 spotted hollows to corn fields on a companion height 
 directly facing them, at a remove of about three-quarters 
 of a mile. Chloe looked forth, while the beau pass- 
 ingly raised his hat for coolness, and murmured, with 
 a glance down the sultry track : " It sweats the eye 
 to see ! " 
 
 Presently Chloe said, "Now a dust blows. Something 
 approaches. Now I discern horses, now a vehicle ; and it 
 is a chariot ! " 
 
 Orders were issued to the outriders for horns to be 
 sounded.
 
 14 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 Both Chloe and Beau Beamish wrinkled their foreheads 
 at the disorderly notes of triple horns, whose pealing made 
 an acid in the air instead of sweetness. 
 
 " You would say, kennel dogs that bay the moon ! " said 
 the wincing beau. " Yet, as you know, these fellows have 
 been exercised. I have had them out in a meadow for 
 hours, baked and drenched, to get them rid of their native 
 cacophony. But they love it, as they love bacon and 
 beans. The musical taste of our people is in the stage of 
 the primitive appetite for noise, and for that they are 
 gluttons." 
 
 "It will be pleasant to hear in the distance," Chloe 
 replied. 
 
 " Ay, the extremer the distance, the pleasanter to hear. 
 Are they advancing ? " 
 
 " They stop. There is a cavalier at the window. Now 
 he doffs his hat." 
 
 " Sweepingly ? " 
 
 Chloe described a semicircle in the grand manner. 
 
 The beau's eyebrows rose. " Powers divine ! " he mut- 
 tered. " She is let loose from hand to hand, and midway 
 comes a cavalier. We did not count on the hawks. So I 
 have to deal with a cavalier ! It signifies, my dear Chloe, 
 that I must incontinently affect the passion if I am to be 
 his match : nothing less." 
 
 " He has flown," said Chloe. 
 
 "Whom she encounters after meeting me, I care not," 
 quothed the beau, snapping a finger. " But there has been 
 an interval for damage with a lady innocent as Eve. Is 
 she advancing ? " 
 
 " The chariot is trotting clown the hill. He has ridden 
 back. She has no attendant horseman." 
 
 "They were dismissed at my injunction ten miles off: 
 particularly to the benefit of the cavaliering horde, it would 
 appear. In the case of a woman, Chloe, one blink of the 
 eyelids is an omission of watchfulness." 
 
 " That is an axiom fit for the harem of the Grand 
 Signior." 
 
 "The Grand Signior might give us profitable lessons for 
 dealing with the sex." 
 
 "Distrust us, and it is a declaration of war! "
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 15 
 
 "Trust you, and the stopper is out of the smelling- 
 bottle." 
 
 "Mr. Beamish, we are women, but we have souls." 
 
 " The pip in the apple whose ruddy cheek allures little 
 Tommy to rob the orchard is as good a preservative." 
 
 " You admit that men are our enemies ? " 
 
 " I maintain that they carry the banner of virtue." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Beamish, I shall expire." 
 
 "I forbid it in my lifetime, Chloe, for I wish to die 
 believing in one woman." 
 
 " No flattery for me at the expense of my sisters ! " 
 
 " Then fly to a hermitage ; for all flattery is at some- 
 body's expense, child. 'T is an essence — extract of human- 
 ity ! To live on it, in the fashion of some people, is bad — 
 it is downright cannibal. But we may sprinkle our hand- 
 kerchiefs with it, and we should, if we would caress our 
 noses with an air. Society, my Chloe, is a recommence- 
 ment upon an upper level of the savage system ; we must 
 have our sacrifices. As, for instance, what say you of 
 myself beside our booted bumpkin squires ? " 
 
 " Hundreds of them, Mr. Beamish ! " 
 
 "That is a holocaust of squires reduced to make an 
 incense for me, though you have not performed Druid rites 
 and packed them in gigantic osier ribs. Be philosophical, 
 but accept your personal dues. Grant us ours too. I have 
 a serious intention to preserve this young duchess, and I 
 expect my task to be severe. I carry the banner aforesaid ; 
 verily and penitentially I do. It is an error of the vulgar 
 to suppose that all is dragon in the dragon's jaws." 
 
 " Men are his fangs and claws." 
 
 " Ay, but the passion for his fiery breath is in woman. 
 She will take her leap and have her jump, will and will! 
 And at the point where she will and she won't, the dragon 
 gulps and down she goes ! However, the business is to 
 keep our buttercup duchess from that same point. Is she 
 near ? " 
 
 " I can see her," said Chloe. 
 
 Beau Beamish requested a sketch of her, and Chloe 
 began: "She is ravishing." 
 
 Upon which he commented, "Every woman is ravishing 
 at forty paces, and still more so in imagination."
 
 16 THE TALE OP CHLOE 
 
 "Beautiful auburn hair, and a dazzling red and white 
 complexion, set in a blue coif." 
 
 " Her eyes ? " 
 
 " Melting blue." 
 
 "T is an English witch! " exclaimed the beau, and he 
 compassionately invoked her absent lord. 
 
 Chloe's optics were no longer tasked to discern the fair 
 lady's lineaments, for the chariot windows came flush 
 with those of the beau on the broad plateau of the hill. 
 His coach door was opened. He sat upright, levelling 
 his privileged stare at Duchess Susan until she blushed. 
 
 "Ay, madam," quoth he, "I am not the first." 
 
 " La, sir ! " said she ; " who are you ? " 
 
 The beau deliberately raised his hat and bowed. " He, 
 madam, of whose approach the gentleman who took his 
 leave of you on yonder elevation informed you." 
 
 She looked artlessly over her shoulder, and at the beau 
 alighting from his carriage. " A gentleman ? " 
 
 "On horseback." 
 
 The duchess popped her head through the window on an 
 impulse to measure the distance between the two hills. 
 
 " Never ! " she cried. 
 
 "Why, madam, did he deliver no message to announce 
 me ? " said the beau, ruffling. 
 
 "Goodness gracious! You must be Mr. Beamish," she 
 replied. 
 
 He laid his hat on his bosom, and invited her to quit her 
 carriage for a seat beside him. She stipulated, " If you are 
 really Mr. Beamish ? " He frowned, and raised his head 
 to convince her; but she would not be impressed, and he 
 applied to Chloe to establish his identity. Hearing 
 Chloe's name, the duchess called out, "Oh! there, now, 
 that 's enough, for Chloe 's my maid here, and I know 
 she 's a lady born, and we 're going to be friends. Hand 
 me to Chloe. And you are Chloe ?" she said, after a frank 
 stride from step to step of the carriages. "And don't mind 
 being my maid? You do look a nice, kind creature. And 
 I see you 're a lady born ; I know in a minute. You 're 
 dark, I'm fair; we shall suit. And tell me — hush! — 
 what dreadful long eyes he has ! I shall ask you presently 
 what you think of me. I was never at the Wells before.
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 17 
 
 Dear me ! the coach has turned. How far off shall we hear 
 the bells to say I 'm coming? I know I 'm to have bells. 
 Mr. Beamish, Mr. Beamish! I must have a chatter with 
 a woman, and I am in awe of you, sir, that I am, but men 
 and men I see to talk to for a lift of my finger, by the 
 dozen, in my duke's palace — though they 're old ones, 
 that 's true — but a woman who 's a lady, and kind enough 
 to be my maid, 1 have n't met yet since I had the right to 
 wear a coronet. There, I '11 hold Chloe's hand, and that '11 
 do. You would tell me at once, Chloe, if I was not dressed 
 to your taste; now, wouldn't you? As for talkative, 
 that 's a sign with me of my liking people. I really don't 
 know what to say to my duke sometimes. I sit and think 
 it so funny to be having a duke instead of a husband. 
 You 're off!" 
 
 The duchess laughed at Chloe's laughter. Chloe excused 
 herself, but was informed by her mistress that it was what 
 she liked. 
 
 "For the first two years," she resumed, "I could hardly 
 speak a syllable. I stammered, I reddened, I longed to 
 be up in my room brushing and curling my hair, and was 
 ready to curtsey to everybody. Now I 'in quite at home, 
 for I 've plenty of courage — except about death, and I 'm 
 worse about death than I was when I was a simple body 
 with a gawk's ' lawks! ' in her round eyes and mouth for 
 an egg. I wonder why that is ? But is n't death horrible? 
 And skeletons! " The duchess shuddered. 
 
 "It depends upon the skeleton," said Beau Beamish, who 
 had joined the conversation. "Yours, madam, I would 
 rather not meet, because she would precipitate me into 
 transports of regret for the loss of the flesh. I have, how- 
 ever, met mine own and had reason for satisfaction with 
 the interview." 
 
 "Your own skeleton, sir! " said the duchess wonderingly 
 and appalled. 
 
 " Unmistakably mine. I will call you to witness by an 
 account of him." 
 
 Duchess Susan gaped, and, "Oh, don't!" she cried 
 out; but added, "It 's broad day, and I 've got some one 
 to sleep anigh me after dark ; " with which she smiled on 
 Chloe, who promised her there was no matter for alarm.
 
 18 THE TALE OP CHLOE 
 
 "I encountered my gentleman as I was proceeding to 
 my room at night," said the beau, "along a narrow corri- 
 dor, where it was imperative that one of us should yield 
 the pas ; and, I must confess it, we are all so amazingly 
 alike in our bones, that I stood prepared to demand place 
 of him. For indubitably the fellow was an obstruction, 
 and at the first glance repulsive. I took him for anybody's 
 skeleton, Death's ensign, with his cachinnatory skull, and 
 the numbered ribs, and the extraordinary splay feet — in 
 fact, the whole ungainly and shaky hobbledehoy which 
 man is built on, and by whose image in his weaker 
 moments he is haunted. I had, to be frank, been dancing 
 on a supper with certain of our choicest Wits and Beauties. 
 It is a recipe for conjuring apparitions. Now, then, thinks 
 I, my fine fellow, I will bounce you; and without a saluta- 
 tion I pressed forward. Madam, I give you my word, he 
 behaved to the full pitch as I myself should have done 
 under similar circumstances. Ketiring upon an inclina- 
 tion of his structure, he draws up and fetches me a bow of 
 the exact middle nick between dignity and service. I 
 advance, he withdraws, and again the bow, devoid of 
 obsequiousness, majestically condescending. These, thinks 
 I, be royal manners. I could have taken him for the 
 Sable King in person, stripped of his mantle. On my 
 soul, he put me to the blush." 
 
 "And is that all?" asked the duchess, relieving herself 
 with a sigh. 
 
 "Why, madam," quoth the beau, "do you not see that he 
 could have been none other than mine own, who could 
 comport himself with that grand air and gracefulness when 
 wounded by his closest relative ? Upon his opening my 
 door for me, and accepting the pas, which I now right 
 heartily accorded him, I recognized at once both him and 
 the reproof he had designedly dealt me — or the wine 
 supper I had danced on. perhaps I should say ; and I pro- 
 test that by such a display of supreme good breeding he 
 managed to convey the highest compliment ever received 
 by man, namely, the assurance, that after the withering 
 away of this mortal garb, I shall still be noted for urbanity 
 and elegancy. Nay, and more, immortally, without the 
 slip I was guilty of when I carried the bag of wine."
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 19 
 
 Duchess Susan fanned herself to assist her digestion of 
 he anecdote. 
 
 " Well, it 's not so frightful a story, and I know you are 
 the great Mr. Beamish," she said. 
 
 He questioned her whether the gentleman had signalled 
 him to her on the hill. 
 
 " What can he mean about a gentleman ? " she turned 
 to Chloe. "My duke told me you would meet me, sir. 
 And you are to protect me. And if anything happens, it 
 is to be your fault." 
 
 "Entirely," said the beau. "I shall therefore maintain 
 i vigilant guard." 
 
 "Except leaving me free. Oof! I've been boxed up so 
 long. I declare, Chloe, I feel like a best dress out for a 
 holiday, and a bit afraid of spoiling. I'm a real child, 
 more than I was when my duke married me. I seemed to 
 go in and grow up again, after I was raised to fortune. 
 And nobody to tell of it! Fancy that! For you can't talk 
 to old gentlemen about what 's going on in your heart." 
 
 " How of young gentlemen ? " she was asked by the beau. 
 
 And she replied, "They find it out." 
 
 "Not if you do not assist them," said he. 
 
 Duchess Susan let her eyelids and her underlip half 
 drop, as she looked at him with the simple shyness of one 
 of nature's thoughts in her head at peep on the pastures 
 of the world. The melting blue eyes and the cherry lip 
 made an exceedingly quickening picture. "Now, I wonder 
 if that is true ? " she transferred her slyness to speech. 
 
 "Beware the middle-aged! " he exclaimed. 
 
 She appealed to Chloe. " And I 'm sure they 're the 
 nicest." 
 
 Chloe agreed that they were. 
 
 The duchess measured Chloe and the beau together, with 
 a mind swift in apprehending all that it hungered for. 
 
 She would have pursued the pleasing theme had she not 
 been directed to gaze below upon the towers and roofs of 
 the Wells, shining sleepily in a siesta of afternoon Sum- 
 mer sunlight. 
 
 With a spread of her silken robe, she touched the edifice 
 of her hair, murmuring to Chloe, " I can't abide that powder 
 You shall see me walk in a hoop. I can. I 've done it
 
 20 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 to slow music till my duke clapped hands. I 'm nothing 
 sitting to what I am on my feet. That 's because I 
 have n't got hue language yet. I shall. It seems to come 
 last. So, there 's the place. And whereabouts do all the 
 great people meet and prommy — ? " 
 
 "They promenade where you see the trees, madam," said 
 Chloe. 
 
 " And where is it where the ladies sit and eat jam tarts 
 with whipped cream on 'em, while the gentlemen stand 
 and pay compliments ? " 
 
 Chloe said it was at a shop near the pump room. 
 
 Duchess Susan looked out over the house-tops, beyond 
 the dusty hedges. 
 
 " Oh, and that powder! " she cried. " I hate to be out of 
 the fashion and a spectacle. But I do love my own hair, 
 and I have such a lot, and I like the colour, and so does 
 my duke. Only, don't let me be fingered at. If once I 
 begin to blush before people, my courage is gone; my 
 singing inside me is choked; and I 've a real lark going on 
 in me all day long, rain or sunshine — hush, all about love 
 and amusement." 
 
 Chloe smiled, and Duchess Susan said, "Just like a 
 bird, for I don't know what it is." 
 
 She looked for Chloe to say that she did. 
 
 At the moment a pair of mounted squires rode up, and 
 the coach stopped, while "Beau Beamish gave orders for 
 the church bells to be set ringing, and the band to meet 
 and precede his equipage at the head of the bath avenue : 
 "in honour of the arrival of her Grace the Duchess of 
 Dewlap." 
 
 He delivered these words loudly to his men, and turned 
 an effulgent gaze upon the duchess, so that for a minute 
 she was fascinated and did not consult her hearing; but 
 presently she fell into an uneasiness; the signs increased, 
 she bit her lip, and after breathing short once or twice, 
 " Was it meaning me, Mr. Beamish ? " she said. 
 
 "You, madam, are the person whom we delight to 
 honour," he replied. 
 
 " Duchess of what ? " she screwed uneasy features to 
 hear. 
 
 "Duchess of Dewlap," said he.
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 21 
 
 "It 's not my title, sir." 
 
 "It is your title on my territory, madam." 
 
 She made her pretty nose and upper lip ugly with a 
 sneer of "DeAV — ! And enter that town before all those 
 people as Duchess of . . . Oh, no, I won't; I just won't! 
 Call back those men, now, please; now, if you please. 
 Pray, Mr. Beamish! You'll offend me, sir. I'm not 
 going to be a mock. You '11 offend my duke, sir. He 'd 
 die rather than have my feelings hurt. Here 's all my 
 pleasure spoilt. I won't and I sha'n't enter the town as 
 duchess of that stupid name, so call 'em back, call 'em 
 back this instant. I know who I am and what I am, 
 and I know what 's due to me, I do." 
 
 Beau Beamish rejoined, " I too. Chloe will tell you I am 
 lord here." 
 
 "Then I '11 go home, I will. I won't be laughed at for 
 a great lady ninny. I 'm a real lady of high rank, and 
 such I ; 11 appear. What 's a Duchess of Dewlap ? One 
 might as well be Duchess of Cowstail, Duchess of Mops- 
 end. And those people ! But I won't be that. I won't be 
 played with. I see them staring! No, I can make up my 
 mind, and I beg you to call back your men, or I '11 go back 
 home." She muttered, " Be made fun of — made a fool of! " 
 
 "Your Grace's chariot is behind," said the beau. 
 
 His despotic coolness provoked her to an outcry and 
 weeping: she repeated, "Dewlap! Dewlap!" in sobs; she 
 shook her shoulders and hid her face. 
 
 " You are proud of your title, are you, madam ? " said 
 he. 
 
 "I am." She came out of her hands to answer him 
 proudly. "That I am! " she meant for a stronger affirma- 
 tion. 
 
 "Then mark me," he said impressively; "I am your 
 duke's friend, and you are under my charge here. I am 
 your guardian and you are my ward, and you can enter the 
 town only on the condition of obedience to me. Now, 
 mark me, madam ; no one can rob you of your real name 
 and title saving yourself. But you are entering a place 
 where you will encounter a thousand temptations to tar- 
 nish, and haply forfeit it. Be warned: do nothing that 
 will."
 
 22 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 " Then I 'm to have my own title ?" said she, clearing up. 
 
 " For the month of your visit you are Duchess of 
 Dewlap." 
 
 "I say Isha'n't!" 
 
 "You shall." 
 
 "Never, sir! " 
 
 "I command it." 
 
 She flung herself forward, with a wail, upon Chioe's 
 bosom. "Can't you do something for me?" she 
 whimpered. 
 
 "It is impossible to move Mr. Beamish," Chloe said. 
 
 Out of a pause, composed of^sobs and sighs, the duchess 
 let loose in a broken voice : 'Clhen I 'm sure I think — I 
 think I 'd rather have met — have met his skeleton} " 
 
 Her sincerity was equal to wit. 
 
 Beau Beamish shouted. He cordially applauded her, 
 and in the genuine kindness of an admiration that sur- 
 prised him, he permitted himself the liberty of taking and 
 saluting her fingers. She fancied there was another 
 chance for her, but he frowned at the mention of it. 
 
 Upon these proceedings the exhilarating sound of the 
 band was heard; simultaneously a festival peal of bells 
 burst forth; and an admonishment of the necessity for 
 concealing her chagrin and exhibiting both station and a 
 countenance to the people, combined with the excitement 
 of the new scenes and the marching music to banish the 
 acuter sense of disappointment from Duchess Susan's 
 mind; so she very soon held herself erect, and wore a face 
 open to every wonder, impressionable as the blue lake- 
 surface, crisped here and there by fitful breezes against a 
 level sun. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 It was an axiom with Mr. Beamish, our first, if not our 
 only philosophical beau and a gentleman of some thought- 
 fulness, that the social English require tyrannical govern- 
 ment as much as the political are able to dispense with it: 
 and this he explained by an exposition of the character of
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 23 
 
 a race possessed of the eminent virtue of individual self- 
 assertion, which causes them to insist on good elbow-room 
 wherever they gather together. Society, however, not 
 being tolerable where the smoothness of intercourse is dis- 
 turbed by a perpetual punching of sides, the merits of the 
 free citizen in them become their demerits when a frater- 
 nal circle is established, and they who have shown an 
 example of civilization too notable in one sphere to call for 
 eulogy, are often to be seen elbowing on the ragged edge of 
 barbarism in the other. They must therefore be reduced 
 to accept laws not of their own making, and of an extreme 
 rigidity. 
 
 Here too is a further peril; for the gallant spirits distin- 
 guishing them in the state of independence may (he fore- 
 saw the melancholy experience of a later age) abandon 
 them utterly in subjection, and the glorious boisterousness 
 befitting the village green forsake them even in their 
 haunts of liberal association, should they once be thor- 
 oughly tamed by authority. Our " merrie England " will 
 then be long-faced England, an England of fallen chaps, 
 like a boar's head, bearing for speech a lemon in the 
 mouth: good to feast on, mayhap; not with! 
 
 Mr. Beamish would actually seem to have foreseen the 
 danger of a transition that he could watch over only in his 
 time; and, as he said, "I go, as I came, on a flash; " he 
 had neither ancestry nor descendants : he was a genius ; he 
 knew himself a solitary, therefore, in spite of his efforts 
 to create his like. Within his district he did effect some- 
 thing, enough to give him fame as one of the princely 
 fathers of our domestic civilization, though we now appear 
 to have lost by it more than formerly we gained. The 
 chasing of the natural is ever fraught with dubious 
 hazards. If it gallops back, according to the proverb, it 
 will do so at the charge: commonly it gallops off, quite 
 off; and then for any kind of animation our precarious 
 dependence is upon brains: we have to live on our wits, 
 which are ordinarily less productive than land, and cannot 
 be remitted in entail. 
 
 Rightly or wrongly (there are differences of opinion 
 about it) Mr. Beamish repressed the chthonic natural 
 vith a rod of iron beneath his rule. The hoyden and the
 
 24 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 bumpkin had no peace until they had given public imita- 
 tions of the lady and the gentleman; nor were the lady 
 and the gentleman privileged to be what he called "free 
 flags." He could be charitable to the passion, but he bel- 
 lowed the very word itself (hauled up smoking from the 
 brimstone lake) against them that pretended to be shame- 
 lessly guilty of the peccadilloes of gallantry. His famous 
 accost of a lady threatening to sink, and already perform- 
 ing like a vessel in that situation — " So, madam, I hear 
 you are preparing to enrol yourself in the very ancient 
 order ? " . . . (he named it) — was a piece of insolence 
 that involved him in some discord with the lady's husband 
 and "the rascal steward," as he chose to term the third 
 party in these affairs : yet it is reputed to have saved the 
 lady. 
 
 Furthermore, he attacked the vulgarity of persons of 
 quality, and he has told a fashionable dame who was in- 
 dulging herself in a marked sneer of disdain, not improving 
 to her features, "that he would be pleased to have her 
 assurance it was her face she presented to mankind : " a 
 thing — thanks perhaps to him chiefly — no longer possible 
 of utterance. One of the sex asking him why he addressed 
 his persecutions particularly to women: "Because I 
 fight your battle," says he, "and I find you in the ranks 
 of the enemy." He treated them as traitors. 
 
 He was nevertheless well supported by a sex that com- 
 pensates for dislike of its friend before a certain. age by a 
 cordial recognition of him when it has touched the period. 
 A phalanx of great dames gave him the terrors of Olympus 
 for all except the natively audacious, the truculent and 
 the insufferably obtuse; and from the midst of them he 
 launched decree and bolt to good effect: not, of course, 
 without receiving return missiles, and not without subse- 
 quent question whether the work of that man was bene- 
 ficial to the country, who indeed tamed the bumpkin squire 
 and his brood, but at the cost of their animal spirits and 
 their gift'of speech; viz. by making petrifactions of them. 
 In the surgical operation of tracheotomy, a successful treat- 
 ment of the patient hangs, we believe, on the promptness 
 and skill of the introduction of the artificial windpipe; 
 and it may be that our unhappy countrymen when cut off
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 25 
 
 from the source of their breath were not neatly handled; 
 or else that there is a physical opposition in them to any- 
 thing artificial, and it must be nature or nothing. The 
 dispute shall be left where it stands. 
 
 Now, to veuture upon parading a beautiful young 
 Duchess of Dewlap, with an odour of the shepherdess 
 about her, notwithstanding her acquired art of stepping 
 conformably in a hoop, and to demand full homage of re- 
 spect for a lady bearing such a title, who had the intoxi- 
 cating attractions of the ruddy orchard apple on the tree 
 next the roadside wall, when the owner is absent, was 
 bold in Mr. Beamish, passing temerity; nor would even 
 he have attempted it had he not been assured of the sup- 
 port of his phalanx of great ladies. They indeed, after 
 being taken into the secret, had stipulated that first they 
 must have an inspection of the transformed dairymaid; 
 and the review was not unfavourable. Duchess Susan 
 came out of it more scatheless than her duke. She was 
 tongue-tied, and her tutored walking and really admirable 
 stature helped her to appease the critics of her sex; by 
 whom her too readily blushful innocence was praised, with 
 a reserve, expressed in the remark, that she was a mon- 
 strous fine toy for a duke's second childhood, and should 
 never have been let fly from his nursery. Her milliner 
 was approved. The duke was a notorious connoisseur of 
 female charms, and would see, of course, to the decorous 
 adornment of her person by the best of modistes. Her 
 smiling was pretty, her eyes were soft; she might turn out 
 good, if well guarded for a time; but these merits of the 
 woman are not those of the great lady, and her title was 
 too strong a beam on her character to give it a fair chance 
 with her critics. They one and all recommended powder 
 for her hair and cheeks. That odour of the shepherdess 
 could be exorcised by no other means, they declared. Her 
 blushing was indecent. 
 
 Truly the critics of the foeman sex behaved in a way to 
 cause the blushes to swarm rosy as the troops of young 
 Loves round Cytherea in her sea-birth, when, some soar- 
 ing, and sinking some, they flutter like her loosened zone, 
 and breast the air thick as flower petals on the summer's 
 breath, weaving her net for the world. Duchess Susan
 
 26 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 might protest her inability to keep her blushes down ; that 
 the wrong was done by the insolent eyes, and not by her 
 artless cheeks. Ay, but nature, if we are to tame these 
 men, must be swathed and concealed, partly stifled, abso- 
 lutely stifled upon occasion. The natural woman does not 
 move a foot without striking earth to conjure up the horrid 
 apparition of the natural man, who is not as she, but a 
 cannibal savage. To be the light which leads, it is her 
 business to don the misty vesture of an idea, that she may 
 dwell as an idea in men's minds, very dim, very powerful, 
 but abstruse, unseizable. Much wisdom was imparted to 
 her on the subject, and she understood a little, and echoed 
 hollow to the remainder, willing to show entire docility as 
 far as her intelligence consented to be awake. She was in 
 that stage of the dainty, faintly tinged innocence of the 
 amorousness of themselves when beautiful young women 
 who have not been caught for schooling in infancy deem 
 it a defilement to be made to appear other than the blessed 
 nature has made them, which has made them beautiful, 
 and surely therefore deserves to be worshipped. The lec- 
 tures of the great ladies and Chloe's counsels failed to per- 
 suade her to use the powder puff-ball. Perhaps too, as 
 timidity quitted her, she enjoyed her distinctiveness in 
 their midst. 
 
 But the distinctiveness of a Duchess of Dewlap with the 
 hair and cheeks of our native fields, was fraught with 
 troubles outrunning Mr. Beamish's calculations. He had 
 perceived that she would be attractive ; he had not reck- 
 oned on the homogeneousness of her particular English 
 charms. A beauty in red, white, and blue is our goddess 
 Venus with the apple of Paris in her hand; and after two 
 visits to the Pump Room, and one promenade in the walks 
 about the Assembly House, she had as completely divided 
 the ordinary guests of the Wells into male and female in 
 opinion as her mother Nature had done it in sex. And 
 the men would not be silenced; they had gazed on their 
 divinest, and it was for the women to succumb to that 
 unwholesome state, so full of thunder. Knights and 
 squires, military and rural, threw up their allegiance right 
 and left to devote themselves to this robust new vision, 
 and in their peculiar manner, with a general View-halloo,
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 27 
 
 and Yoicks, Tally-ho, and away we go, pelt ahead! Un- 
 exampled as it is in England for Beauty to kindle the 
 ardours of the scent of the fox, Duchess Susan did more — 
 she turned all her followers into hounds ; they were mad- 
 men: within a very few days of her entrance bets raged 
 about her, and there were brawls, jolly flings at her char- 
 acter in the form of lusty encomium, givings of the lie, 
 and upon one occasion a knock-down blow in public, as 
 though the place had never known the polishing touch of 
 Mr. Beamish. 
 
 He was thrown into great perplexity by that blow. 
 Discountenancing the duel as much as he could, an affair 
 of the sword was nevertheless more tolerable than the 
 brutal fist: and of all men to be guilty of it, who would 
 have anticipated the young AIodzo, Chloe's quiet, modest 
 lover! He it was. The case came before Mr. Beamish for 
 his decision; he had to pronounce an impartial judgement, 
 and for some time, during the examination of evidence, he 
 suffered, as he assures us in his Memoirs, a royal agony. 
 To have to strike with the glaive of Justice them whom 
 they most esteem, is the greatest affliction known to kings. 
 He would have done it: he deserved to reign. Happily 
 the evidence against the gentleman who was tumbled, Mr. 
 Ealph Shepster, excused Mr. Augustus Camwell, otherwise 
 Alonzo, for dealing with him promptly to shut his mouth. 
 
 This Shepster, a raw young squire, "reeking," Beau 
 Beamish writes of him, " one half of the soil, and t' other 
 half of the town," had involved Chloe in his familiar 
 remarks upon the Duchess of Dewlap; and the personal 
 respect entertained by Mr. Beamish for Chloe so strongly 
 approved Alonzo's championship of her, that in giving 
 judgement he laid stress on young Alonzo's passion for 
 Chloe, to prove at once the disinterestedness of the assail- 
 ant, and the judicial nature of the sentence: which was, 
 that Mr. Ralph Shepster should undergo banishment, and 
 had the right to demand reparation. The latter part of 
 this decree assisted in effecting the execution of the 
 former. Shepster declined cold steel, calling it murder, 
 and was effusive of nature's logic on the subject: 
 
 " Because a man comes and knocks me down, I 'm to go 
 up to him and ask him to run me through ! "
 
 28 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 His shake of the head signified that he was not such a 
 noodle. Voluble and prolific of illustration, as is no one 
 so much as a son of nature inspired to speak her words of 
 wisdom, he defied the mandate, and refused himself satis- 
 faction, until in the strangest manner possible flights of 
 white feathers beset him, and he became a mark for per- 
 secution too trying for the friendship of his friends. He 
 fled, repeating his tale, that he had seen "Beamish's 
 Duchess," and Chloe attending her, at an assignation in 
 the South Grove, where a gentleman, unknown to the 
 Wells, presented himself to the adventurous ladies, and 
 they walked together — a tale ending with nods. 
 
 Shepster's banishment was one of those victories of jus- 
 tice upon which mankind might be congratulated if they 
 left no commotion behind. But, as when a boy has been 
 horsed before his comrades, dread may visit them, yet is 
 there likewise devilry in the school; and everywhere over 
 earth a summary punishment that does not sweep the place 
 clear is likely to infect whom it leaves remaining. The 
 great law-givers, Lycurgus, Draco, Solon, Beamish, sor- 
 rowfully acknowledge that they have had recourse to 
 infernal agents, after they have thus purified their circle 
 of an offender. Doctors confess to the same of their 
 physic. The expelling agency has next to be expelled, and 
 it is a subtle poison, affecting our spirits. Duchess Susan 
 had now the incense of a victim to heighten her charms ; 
 like the treasure-laden Spanish galleon for whom, on her 
 voyage home from South American waters, our enterpris- 
 ing light-craft privateers lay in wait, she had the double 
 attraction of being desirable and an enemy. To watch 
 above her conscientiously was a harassing business. 
 
 Mr. Beamish sent for Chloe, and she came to him at once. 
 Her look was curious ; he studied it while they conversed. 
 So looks one who is watching the sure flight of an arrow, 
 or the happy combinations of an intrigue. Saying, " I am 
 no inquisitor, child," he ventured upon two or three 
 modest inquisitions with regard to her mistress. The 
 title he had disguised Duchess Susan in, he confessed to 
 rueing as the principal cause of the agitation of his princi- 
 pality. "She is courted," he said, "less like a citadel 
 waving a flag than a hostelry where the demand is for
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 29 
 
 sitting-room and a tankard! These be our manners. Yet, 
 I must own, a Duchess of Dewlap is a provocation, and 
 my exclusive desire to protect the name of my lord stands 
 corrected by the perils environing his lady. She is other 
 than I supposed her; she is, we will hope, an excellent 
 good creature, but too attractive for moat and drawbridge 
 and the customary defences to be neglected." 
 
 Chloe met his interrogatory with a ready report of the 
 young duchess's innocence and good nature that pacified 
 Mr. Beamish. 
 
 " And you ? " said he. 
 
 She smiled for answer. 
 
 That smile was not the common smile; it was one of 
 an eager exultingness, producing as he gazed the twitch of 
 an inquisitive reflection of it on his lips. Such a smile 
 bids us guess and quickens us to guess, warns us we burn 
 and speeds our burning, and so, like an angel wafting us 
 to some heaven-feasting promontory, lifts us out of our- 
 selves to see in the universe of colour what the mouth has 
 but pallid speech to tell. That is the very heart's lan- 
 guage ; the years are in a look, as mount and vale of the 
 dark land spring up in lightning. 
 
 He checked himself : he scarce dared to say it. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 "You have seen the man, Chloe ?" 
 
 Her smiling broke up in the hard lines of an ecstasy 
 neighbouring pain. "He has come; he is here; he is 
 faithful; he has not forgotten me. I was right. I knew! 
 I knew! " 
 
 " Caseldy has come ? " 
 
 "He has come. Do not ask. To have him! to see him! 
 Mr. Beamish, he is here." 
 
 "At last!" 
 
 "Cruel!" 
 
 " Well, Caseldy has come, then ! But now, friend Chloe, 
 you should be made aware that the man " 
 
 She stopped her ears. As she did so, Mr. Beamish 
 observed a thick silken skein dangling from one hand. 
 Part of it was plaited, and at the upper end there was a 
 knot. It resembled the commencement of her manufac- 
 tory of a whip: she swayed it to and fro, allowing him to
 
 30 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 catch and lift the threads on his fingers for the purpose of 
 examining her work. There was no special compliment to 
 pay, so he dropped it without remark. 
 
 Their faces had expressed her wish to hear nothing 
 from him of Caseldy and his submission to say nothing. 
 Her happiness was too big; she appeared to beg to lie 
 down with it on her bosom, in the manner of an outworn 
 young mother who has now first received her infant in, 
 her arms from the nurse. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Humouring Chloe with his usual considerateness, Mr. 
 Beamish forebore to cast a shadow on her new-born joy, 
 and even within himself to doubt the security of its foun- 
 dation. Caseldy's return to the Wells was at least some 
 assurance of his constancy, seeing that here they appointed 
 to meet when he and Chloe last parted. All might be well, 
 though it was unexplained why he had not presented him- 
 self earlier. To the lightest inquiry Chloe's reply was a 
 shiver of happiness. 
 
 Moreover, Mr. Beamish calculated that Caseldy would 
 be a serviceable ally in commanding a proper respect for 
 her Grace the Duchess of Dewlap. So he betook himself 
 cheerfully to Caseldy's lodgings to deliver a message of 
 welcome, meeting, on his way thither, Mr. Augustus 
 Camwell, with whom he had a short conversation, greatly 
 to his admiration of the enamoured young gentleman's 
 goodness and self-compression in speaking of Caseldy and 
 Chloe's better fortune. Mr. Camwell seemed hurried. 
 
 Caseldy was not at home, and Mr. Beamish proceeded to 
 the lodgings of the duchess. Chloe had found her absent. 
 The two consulted. Mr. Beamish put on a serious air, 
 until Chloe mentioned the pastrycook's shop, for Duchess 
 Susan had a sweet tooth; she loved a visit to the pastry- 
 cook's, whose jam tarts were dearer to her than his more 
 famous hot mutton pies. The pastrycook informed Mr. 
 Beamish that her Grace had been in his shop, earlier than
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 81 
 
 usual, as it happened, and accompanied by a foreign- 
 looking gentleman wearing moustachios. Her Grace, the 
 pastrycook said, had partaken of several tarts, in common 
 with the gentleman, who complimented him upon his 
 excelling the Continental confectioner. Mr. Beamish 
 glanced at Chloe. He pursued his researches down at the 
 Pump Room, while she looked round the ladies' coffee 
 house. Encountering again, they walked back to the 
 duchess's lodgings, where a band stood playing in the road, 
 by order of her Grace ; but the duchess was away, and had 
 not been seen since her morning's departure. 
 
 " What sort of character would you give mistress Susan 
 of Dewlap, from your personal acquaintance with it?" 
 said Mr. Beamish to Chloe, as they stepped from the door. 
 
 Chloe mused and said, "I would add 'good ' to the un- 
 kindest comparison you could find for her." 
 
 "But accepting the comparison ! " Mr. Beamish nodded, 
 and revolved upon the circumstance of their being very 
 much in nature's hands with Duchess Susan, of whom it 
 might be said that her character was good, yet all the 
 more alive to the temptations besetting the Spring season. 
 He allied Chloe's adjective to a number of epithets equally 
 applicable to nature and to women, according to current 
 ideas, concluding: "Count, they call your Caseldy at his 
 lodgings. ' The Count he is out for an airing.' He is 
 counted out. Ah ! you will make him drop that l Count ' 
 when he takes you from here." 
 
 "Do not speak of the time beyond the month," said 
 Chloe, so urgently on a rapid breath as to cause Mr. 
 Beamish to cast an inquiring look at her. 
 
 She answered it, "Is not one month of brightness as 
 much as we can ask for ? " 
 
 The beau clapped his elbows complacently to his sides in 
 philosophical concord with her sentiment. 
 
 In the afternoon, on the parade, they were joined by 
 Mr. Camwell, among groups of fashionable ladies and their 
 escorts, pacing serenely, by medical prescription, for an 
 appetite. As he did not comment on the absence of the 
 duchess, Mr. Beamish alluded to it; whereupon he was 
 informed that she was about the meadows, and had been 
 there for some hours-
 
 32 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 "Not unguarded," he replied to Mr. Beamish. 
 
 "Aha!" quoth the latter; "we have an Argus!" and as 
 the duchess was not on the heights, and the sun's rays 
 were mild in cloud, he agreed to his young friend's pro- 
 posal that they should advance to meet her. Chloe 
 walked with them, but her face was disdainful; at the 
 stiles she gave her hand to Mr. Beamish; she did not 
 address a word to Mr. Camwell, and he knew the reason. 
 Nevertheless he maintained his air of soldierly resignation 
 to the performance of duty, and held his head like a gen- 
 tleman unable to conceive the ignominy of having played 
 spy. Chloe shrank from him. 
 
 Duchess Susan was distinguished coming across a broad 
 uncut meadow, tirra-lirraing beneath a lark, Caseldy in 
 attendance on her. She stopped short and spoke to him; 
 then came forward, crying ingenuously, " Oh, Mr. Beamish, 
 is n't this just what you wanted me to do ? " 
 
 "No, madam," said he, "you had my injunctions to the 
 contrary." 
 
 "La! " she exclaimed, "I thought I was to run about in 
 the fields now and then to preserve my simplicity. I know 
 I was told so, and who told me ! " 
 
 Mr. Beamish bowed effusively to the introduction of 
 Caseldy, whose fingers he touched in sign of the renewal 
 of acquaintance, and with a laugh addressed the duchess : 
 " Madam, you remind me of a tale of my infancy. I had a 
 juvenile comrade of the tenderest age, by name Tommy 
 Plumston, and he enjoyed the privilege of intimacy with a 
 component urchin yclept Jimmy Clungeon, with which 
 adventurous roamer, in defiance of his mother's interdict 
 against his leaving the house for a minute during her 
 absence from home, he departed on a tour of the district, 
 resulting, perhaps as a consequence of its completeness, 
 in this, that at a distance computed at four miles from the 
 maternal mansion, he perceived his beloved mama with 
 sufficient clearness to feel sure that she likewise had seen 
 him. Tommy consulted with Jimmy, and then he sprang 
 forward on a run to his frowning mama, and delivered 
 himself in these artless words, which I repeat as they 
 were uttered, to give you the flavour of the innocent babe : 
 he said, ' I frink I frought I hear you call me, ma! and
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 33 
 
 Jimmy dungeon, lie frought he frink so too!' So, you 
 see, the pair of them were under the impression that they 
 were doing right. There is a delicate distinction in the 
 tenses of each frinking where the other frought, enough in 
 itself to stamp siucerity upon the statement." 
 
 Caseldy said, "The veracity of a boy possessing a 
 friend named Clungeon is beyond contest." 
 
 Duchess Susan opened her eyes. "Four miles from 
 home! And what did his mother do to him?" 
 
 "Tommy's mama," said Mr. Beamish, and with the re- 
 splendent licence of the period which continued still upon 
 tolerable terms with nature under the compromise of 
 decorous "Oh-fie! ", flatly declared the thing she did. 
 
 "I fancy, sir, that I caught sight of your figure on the 
 hill yonder about an hour or so earlier," said Caseldy to 
 Mr. Gamwell. 
 
 " If it was at the time when you were issuing from 
 that wood, sir, your surmise is correct," said the young 
 gentleman. 
 
 " You are long-sighted, sir 1 " 
 
 " I am, sir." 
 
 "And so am I." 
 
 " And I," said Chloe. 
 
 "Our Chloe will distinguish you accurately at a mile, 
 and has done it," observed Mr. Beamish. 
 
 " One guesses tiptoe on a suspicion, and if one is wrong 
 it passes, and if one is right it is a miracle," she said, and 
 raised her voice on a song to quit the subject. 
 
 "Ay, ay, Chloe; so then you had a suspicion, you rogue, 
 the day we had the pleasure of meeting the duchess, had 
 you ? " Mr. Beamish persisted. 
 
 Duchess Susan interposed. " Such a pretty song ! and 
 you to stop her, sir ! " 
 
 Caseldy took up the air. 
 
 " Oh, you two together ! " she cried. " I do love hearing 
 music in the fields ; it is heavenly. Bands in the town 
 and voices in the green fields, I say ! Could n't you join 
 Chloe, Mr. . . . Count, sir, before we come among the 
 people, here where it 'sail so nice and still. Music! and 
 my heart does begin so to pit-a-pat. Do you sing, Mr. 
 Alonzo ? "
 
 34 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 "Poorly," the young gentleman replied. 
 
 "But the Count can sing, and Chloe's a real angel when 
 she sings ; and won't you, dear ? " she implored Chloe, to 
 whom Caseldy addressed a prelude with a bow and a 
 flourish of the hand. 
 
 Chloe's voice flew forth. Caseldy's rich masculine 
 matched it. The song was gay ; he snapped his finger at 
 intervals in foreign style, singing big-chested, with full 
 notes and a fine abandonment, and the quickest suscepti- 
 bility to his fair companion's cunning modulations, and 
 an eye for Duchess Susan's rapture. 
 
 Mr. Beamish and Mr. Camwell applauded them. 
 
 "I never can tell what to say when I'm brimming;" 
 the duchess let fall a sigh. " And he can play the flute, 
 Mr. Beamish. He promised me he would go into the 
 orchestra and play a bit at one of your nice evening de- 
 licious concerts, and that will be nice — Oh ! " 
 
 "He promised you, madam, did he so ?" said the beau. 
 " Was it on your way to the Wells that he promised you ? " 
 
 " On my way to the Wells ! " she exclaimed softly. 
 "Why, how could anybody promise me a thing before 
 ever he saw me ? I call that a strange thing to ask a 
 person. No, to-day, while we were promenading ; and I 
 should hear him sing, he said. He does admire his Chloe 
 so. Why, no wonder, is it, now ? She can do everything ; 
 knit, sew, sing, dance — and talk ! She 's never uneasy 
 for a word. She makes whole scenes of things go round 
 you, like a picture peep-show, I tell her. And always 
 cheerful. She has n't a minute of grumps ; and I 'm some- 
 times a dish of stale milk fit only for pigs. With your 
 late hours here, I 'm sure I want tickling in the morning, 
 and Chloe carols me one of her songs, and I say, ' There 's 
 my bird ! ' " 
 
 Mr. Beamish added, " And you will remember she has 
 a heart." 
 
 " I should think so ! " said the duchess. 
 
 " A heart, madam ! " 
 
 " Why, what else ? " 
 
 Nothing other, the beau, by his aspect, was constrained 
 to admit. 
 
 He appeared puzzled by this daughter nf nature in a
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 35 
 
 coronet ; and more on her remarking, " You know about 
 her heart, Mr. Beamish." 
 
 He acquiesced, for of course he knew of her lifelong 
 devotion to Caseldy ; but there was archness in her tone. 
 However, he did not expect a woman of her education to 
 have the tone perfectly concordant with the circumstances. 
 Speaking tentatively of Caseldy's handsome face and figure, 
 he was pleased to hear the duchess say, " So I tell Chloe." 
 
 " Well," said he, "we must consider them united; they 
 are one." 
 
 Duchess Susan replied, " That 's what I tell him ; she 
 will do anything you wish." 
 
 He repeated these words with an interjection, and de- 
 cided in his mind that they were merely silly. She was 
 a real shepherdess by birth and nature, requiring a strong 
 guard over her attractions on account of her simplicity; 
 such was his reading of the problem ; he had conceived it 
 at the first sight of her, and always recurred to it under 
 the influence of her artless eyes, though his theories upon 
 men and women were astute, and that cavalier perceived 
 by long-sighted Chloe at Duchess Susan's coach window 
 perturbed him at whiles. Habitually to be anticipating 
 the simpleton in a particular person is the sure way of 
 being sometimes the dupe, as he would not have been the 
 last to warn a neophyte ; but abstract wisdom is in need 
 of an unappeased suspicion of much keenness of edge, if 
 we would have it alive to cope with artless eyes and our 
 prepossessed fancy of their artlessness. 
 
 " You talk of Chloe to him ? " he said. 
 
 She answered, " Yes, that I do. And he does love her ! 
 I like to hear him. He is one of the gentlemen who don't 
 make me feel timid with them." 
 
 She received a short lecture on the virtues of timidity 
 in preserving the sex from danger ; after which, consider- 
 ing that the lady who does not feel timid with a particular 
 cavalier has had no sentiment awakened, he relinquished 
 his place to Mr. Camwell, and proceeded to administer the 
 probe to Caseldy. 
 
 That gentleman was communicatively candid. Chloe had 
 left him, and he related how, summoned home to England 
 and compelled to settle a dispute threatening a lawsuit, he
 
 36 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 had regretfully to abstain from visiting the Wells for a 
 season, not because of any fear of the attractions of play 
 — he had subdued the frailty of the desire to play — but 
 because he deemed it due to his Chloe to bring her an un- 
 troubled face, and he wished first to be the better of the 
 serious annoyances besetting him. For some similar rea- 
 son he had not written ; he wished to feast on her surprise. 
 "And I had my reward," he said, as if he had been the 
 person principally to suffer through that abstinence. "I 
 found — I may say it to you, Mr. Beamish — love in her 
 eyes. Divine by nature, she is one of the immortals, both 
 in appearance and in steadfastness." 
 
 They referred to Duchess Susan. Caseldy reluctantly 
 owned that it would be an unkindness to remove Chloe 
 from attendance on her during the short remaining term 
 of her stay at the Wells ; and so he had not proposed it, 
 he said, for the duchess was a child, an innocent, not stupid 
 by any means ; but, of course, her transplanting from an 
 inferior to an exalted position put her under disadvantages. 
 
 Mr. Beamish spoke of the difficulties of his post as 
 guardian, and also of the strange cavalier seen at her 
 carriage window by Chloe. 
 
 Caseldy smiled and said, " If there was one — and Chloe 
 is rather long-sighted — we can hardly expect her to con- 
 fess it." 
 
 " Why not, sir, if she be this piece of innocence ? " Mr. 
 Beamish was led to inquire. 
 
 " She fears you, sir," Caseldy answered. " You have 
 inspired her with an extraordinary fear of you." 
 
 " I have ? " said the beau : it had been his endeavour to 
 inspire it, and he swelled somewhat, rather with relief at 
 the thought of his possessing a power to control his deli- 
 cate charge, than with our vanity ; yet would it be auda- 
 cious to say that there was not a dose of the latter. He 
 was a very human man; and he had, as we have seen, his 
 ideas of the effect of the impression of fear upon the hearts 
 of women. Something, in any case, caused him to forget 
 the cavalier. 
 
 They were drawn to the three preceding them, by a 
 lively dissension between Chloe and Mr. Camwell. 
 
 Duchess Susan explained it in her blunt style: "She
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 37 
 
 wants him to go away home, and he says he will, if she '11 
 give him that double skein of silk she swings about, and 
 she says she won't, let him ask as long as he pleases ; so 
 he says he sha'n't go, and I 'm sure I don't see why he 
 should ; and she says he may stay, but he sha'n't have her 
 necklace, she calls it. So Mr. Oamwell snatches, and Chloe 
 fires up. Gracious, can't she frown ! — at him. She never 
 frowns at anybody but him." 
 
 Caseldy attempted persuasion on Mr. Cam well's behalf. 
 With his mouth at Chloe's ear, he said, " Give it ; let the 
 poor fellow have his memento ; despatch him with it." 
 
 "I can hear ! and that is really kind," exclaimed Duchess 
 Susan. 
 
 " Rather a missy-missy schoolgirl sort of necklace," Mr. 
 Beamish observed ; " but he might have it, without the dis- 
 missal, for I cannot consent to lose Alonzo. !No, madam/' 
 he nodded at the duchess. 
 
 Caseldy continued his whisper: "You can't think of 
 wearing a thing like that about your neck?" 
 
 " Indeed," said Chloe, " I think of it." 
 
 " Why, what fashion have you over here ? " 
 
 "It is not yet a fashion," she said. 
 
 "A silken circlet will not well become any precious pen- 
 dant that I know of." 
 
 " A bag of dust is not a very precious pendant," she said. 
 
 "Oh, a memento mori! " cried he. 
 
 And she answered, "Yes." 
 
 He rallied her for her superstition, pursuing, "Surely, 
 my love, 'tis a cheap riddance of a pestilent, intrusive 
 jaloux. Whip it into his hands for a mittimus." 
 
 " Does his presence distress you ? " she asked. 
 
 " I will own that to be alwaj's having the fellow dogging 
 us, with his dejected leer, is not agreeable. He watches 
 us now, because my lips are close by your cheek. He 
 should be absent ; he is one too many. Speed him on his 
 voyage with the souvenir he asks for." 
 
 "I keep it for a journey of my own, which I may have 
 to take," said Chloe. 
 
 " With me ? " 
 
 "You will follow; you cannot help following me, 
 Caseldy."
 
 38 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 He speculated on her front. She was tenderly smiling. 
 
 " You are happy, Chloe ? " 
 
 "I have never known such happiness," she said. The 
 brilliancy of her eyes confirmed it. 
 
 He glanced over at Duchess Susan, who was like a sun- 
 flower in the sun. His glance lingered a moment. Her 
 abundant and glowing young charms were the richest fas- 
 cination an eye like his could dwell on. " That is right," 
 said he. "We will be perfectly happy till the month ends. 
 And after it ? But get us rid of Monsieur le Jeune ; toss 
 him that trifle ; I spare him that. 'T will be bliss to him, 
 at the cost of a bit of silk thread to us. Besides, if we 
 keep him to cure him of his passion here, might it not be 
 — these boys veer suddenly, like the winds of Albion, from 
 one fair object to t' other — at the cost of the precious and 
 simple lady you are guarding ? I merely hint. These two 
 affect one another, as though it could be. She speaks of 
 him. It shall be as you please; but a trifle like that, my 
 Chloe, to be rid of a green eye ! " 
 
 " You much wish him gone ? " she said. 
 
 He shrugged. " The fellow is in our way." 
 
 " You think him a little perilous for my innocent lady ? " 
 
 "Candidly, I do." 
 
 She stretched the half -plaited silken rope in her two 
 hands to try the strength of it, made a second knot, and 
 consigned it to her pocket. 
 
 At once she wore her liveliest playfellow air, in which 
 character no one was so enchanting as Chloe could be, for 
 she became the comrade of men without forfeit of her 
 station among sage sweet ladies, and was like a well-man- 
 nered sparkling boy, to whom his admiring seniors have 
 given the lead in sallies, whims, and flights ; but pleasanter 
 than a boy, the soft hues of her sex toned her frolic spirit ; 
 she seemed her sex's deputy, to tell the coarser where they 
 could meet, as on a bridge above the torrent separating 
 them, gaily for interchange of the best of either, unfired 
 and untempted by fire, yet with all the elements which 
 make fire burn to animate their hearts. 
 
 "Lucky the man who wins for himself that life-long 
 cordial ! " Mr. Beamish said to Duchess Susan. 
 
 She had small comprehension of metaphorical phrases, but
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 39 
 
 she was quick at reading faces ; and comparing the enthu- 
 siasm on the face of the beau with Caseldy's look of 
 troubled wonderment and regret, she pitied the lover con- 
 scious of not having the larger share of his mistress's 
 affections. When presently he looked at her, the tender- 
 hearted woman could have cried for very compassion, so 
 sensible did he show himself of Chloe's preference of the 
 other. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 That evening Duchess Susan played at the Pharaoh 
 table and lost eight hundred pounds, through desperation 
 at the loss of twenty. After encouraging her to proceed 
 to this extremity, Caseldy checked her. He was conduct- 
 ing her out of the Play room when a couple of young 
 squires of the Shepster order, and primed with wine, 
 intercepted her to present their condolences, which they 
 performed with exaggerated gestures, intended for broad 
 mimicry of the courtliness imported from the Continent, 
 and a very dulcet harping on the popular variations of her 
 Christian name, not forgetting her singular title, "my 
 lovely, lovely Dewlap ! " 
 
 She was excited and stunned by her immediate experi- 
 ence in the transfer of money, and she said, " I 'm sure I 
 don't know what you want." 
 
 " Yes ! " cried they, striking their bosoms as guitars, and 
 attempting the posture of the thrummer on the instru- 
 ment; "she knows. She does know. Handsome Susie 
 knows what we want." And one ejaculated, mellifluously, 
 " Oh ! " and the other " Ah ! " in flagrant derision of the 
 foreign ways they produced in boorish burlesque — a self- 
 consolatory and a common trick of the boor. 
 
 Caseldy was behind. He pushed forward and bowed to 
 them. " Sirs, will you mention to me what you want ? " 
 
 He said it with a look that meant steel. It cooled them 
 sufficiently to let him place the duchess under the protec- 
 torship of Mr. Beamish, then entering from another room
 
 40 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 with Chloe ; whereupon the pair of rustic bucks retired to 
 reinvigorate their valiant blood. 
 
 Mr. Beamish had seen that there was cause for gratitude 
 to Caseldy, to whom he said, "She has lost?" and he 
 seemed satisfied on hearing the amount of the loss, and 
 commissioned Caseldy to escort the ladies to their lodgings 
 at once, observing, " Adieu, Count ! " 
 
 " You will find my foreign title of use to you here, after 
 a bout or two," was the reply. 
 
 " No bouts, if possibly to be avoided ; though I perceive 
 how the flavour of your countship may spread a wholesome 
 alarm among our rurals, who will readily have at you with 
 fists, but relish not the tricky cold weapon." 
 
 Mr. Beamish haughtily bowed the duchess away. 
 
 Caseldy seized the opportunity while handing her into 
 her sedan to say, " We will try the fortune-teller for a 
 lucky day to have our revenge." 
 
 She answered: "Oh, don't talk to me about playing 
 again ever ; I 'm nigh on a clean pocket, and never knew 
 such a sinful place as this. I feel I've tumbled into a 
 ditch. And there 's Mr. Beamish, all top when he bows to 
 me. You're keeping Chloe waiting, sir." 
 
 " Where was she while we were at the table ? " 
 
 " Sure she was with Mr. Beamish." 
 
 " Ah ! " he groaned. 
 
 " The poor soul is in despair over her losses to-night," he 
 turned from the boxed-up duchess to remark to Chloe. 
 " Give her a comfortable cry and a few moral maxims." 
 
 " I will," she said. "You love me, Caseldy ? " 
 
 " Love you ? I ? Your own ? What assurance would 
 you have ? " 
 
 " None, dear friend." 
 
 Here was a woman easily deceived. 
 
 In the hearts of certain men, owing to an intellectual 
 contempt of easy dupes, compunction in deceiving is dimin- 
 ished by the lightness of their task; and that soft confi- 
 dence which will often, if but passingly, bid betrayers 
 reconsider the charms of the fair soul they are abandoning, 
 commends these armom-ed knights to pursue with redoubled 
 earnest the fruitful ways of treachery. Their feelings are 
 warm for their prey, moreover j and choosing to judge their
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 41 
 
 victim by the present warmth of their feelings, they can at 
 will be hurt, even to being scandalized, by a coldness that 
 does not waken one suspicion of them. Jealousy would 
 have a chance of arresting, for it is not impossible to tease 
 them back to avowed allegiance; but sheer indifference also 
 has a stronger hold on them than a dull, blind trustfulness. 
 They hate the burden it imposes ; the blind aspect is only 
 touching enough to remind them of the burden, and they 
 hate it for that, and for the enormous presumption of the 
 belief that they are everlastingly bound to such an imbecile. 
 She walks about with her eyes shut, expecting not to stum- 
 ble, and when she does, am I to blame ? The injured man 
 asks it in the course of his reasoning. 
 
 He recurs to his victim's merits, but only compassion- 
 ately, and the compassion is chilled by the thought that she 
 may in the end start across his path to thwart him. Thereat 
 he is drawn to think of the prize she may rob him of ; and 
 when one woman is an obstacle, the other shines desirable 
 as life beyond death ; he must have her ; he sees her in the 
 hue of his desire for her, and the obstacle in that of his 
 repulsion. Cruelty is no more than the man's effort to win 
 the wished object. 
 
 She should not leave it to his imagination to conceive 
 that in the end the blind may awaken to thwart him. 
 Better for her to cast him hence, or let him know that she 
 will do battle to keep him. But the pride of a love that 
 has hardened in the faithfulness of love cannot always 
 be wise on trial. 
 
 Caseldy walked considerably in the rear of the couple of 
 chairs. He saw on his way what was coming. His two 
 young squires were posted at Duchess Susan's door when 
 she arrived, and he received a blow from one of them in 
 clearing a way for her. She plucked at his hand. " Have 
 they hurt you ? " she asked. 
 
 " Think of me to-night thanking them and heaven for 
 this, my darling," he replied, with a pressure that lit the 
 flying moment to kindle the after hours. 
 
 Chloe had taken help of one of her bearers to jump out. 
 She stretched a finger at the unruly intruders, crying 
 sternly, " There is blood on you — come not nigh me ! " 
 The loftiest harangue would not have been so cunning to
 
 42 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 touch their wits. They stared at one another in the cleai 
 moonlight. Which of them had blood on him ? As they 
 had not been for blood, but for rough fun, and something to 
 boast of next day, they gesticulated according to the first 
 instructions of the dancing master, by way of gallantry, 
 and were out of Caseldy's path when he placed himself at 
 his liege lady's service. "Take no notice of them, dear," 
 she said. 
 
 " No, no," said he ; and " What is it ? " and his hoarse 
 accent and shaking clasp of her arm sickened her to the 
 sensation of approaching death. 
 
 Upstairs Duchess Susan made a show of embracing her. 
 Both were trembling. The duchess ascribed her condition 
 to those dreadful men. " What make's them be at me so ? " 
 she said. 
 
 And Chloe said, " Because you are beautiful." 
 
 " Am I ? " 
 
 " You are." 
 
 "I am?" 
 
 " Very beautiful ; young and beautiful ; beautiful in the 
 bud. You will learn to excuse them, madam." 
 
 " But, Chloe " The duchess shut her mouth. Out 
 
 of a languid reverie, she sighed : " I suppose I must be ! 
 My duke — oh, don't talk of him. Dear man ! he's in bed 
 and fast asleep long before this. I wonder how he came to 
 let me come here. I did bother him, I know. Am I very, 
 very beautiful, Chloe, so that men can't help themselves ? " 
 
 " Very, madam." 
 
 " There, good-night. I want to be in bed, and I can't 
 kiss you because you keep calling me madam, and freeze 
 me to icicles ; but I do love you, Chloe." 
 
 " I am sure you do." 
 
 " I 'in quite certain I do. I know I never mean harm. 
 But how are we women expected to behave, then? Oh, 
 I 'm unhappy, I am." 
 
 " You must abstain from playing." 
 
 "It's that! I've lost my money — I forgot. And I 
 shall have to confess it to my duke, though he warned me. 
 Old men hold their fingers up — so ! One finger : and you 
 never forget the sight of it, never. It's a round finger, like 
 the handle of a jug, and won't point at you when they're
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 43 
 
 lecturing, and the skin 's like an old coat on gaffer's shoul- 
 ders — or, Chloe ! just like, when you look at the nail, a 
 rumpled counterpane up to the face of a corpse. I declare, 
 it's just like ! I feel as if I didn't a bit mind talking of 
 corpses to-nigbt. And my money's gone, and I don't much 
 mind. I 'm a wild girl again, handsomer than when that 
 
 he is a dear, kind, good old nobleman, with his funny 
 
 old finger : ' Susan ! Susan ! ' I 'm no worse than others. 
 Everybody plays here ; everybody superior. Why, you 
 have played, Chloe." 
 
 " Never ! " 
 
 " I 've heard you say you played once, and a bigger stake 
 it was, you said, than anybody ever did play." 
 
 " Not money." 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 « My life." 
 
 "Goodness — yes! I understand. I understand every- 
 thing to-night — men too. So you did ! — They 're not so 
 shamefully wicked, Chloe. Because, I can't see the wrong 
 of human nature — if we 're discreet, I mean. Now and 
 then a country dance and a game, and home to bed and 
 dreams. There's no harm in that, I vow. — And that's 
 why you stayed at this place. You like it, Chloe ? " 
 
 " I am used to it." 
 
 " But when you 're married to Count Caseldy you '11 go ? " 
 
 " Yes, then." 
 
 She uttered it so joylessly that Duchess Susan added, 
 with intense affectionateness, " You 're not obliged to marry 
 him, dear Chloe." 
 
 " Nor he me, madam." 
 
 The duchess caught at her impulsively to kiss her, and 
 eaid she would undress herself, as she wished to be alone. 
 
 From that night she was a creature inflamed.
 
 44 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 The total disappearance of the pair of heroes who had 
 been the latest in the conspiracy to vex his delicate charge, 
 gave Mr. Beamish a high opinion of Caseldy as an assistant 
 in such an office as he held. They had gone, and nothing 
 more was heard of them. Caseldy confined his observations 
 on the subject to the remark, that he had employed the 
 best means to be rid of that kind of worthies ; and whether 
 their souls had fled, or only their bodies, was unknown. 
 But the duchess had quiet promenades with Caseldy to 
 guard her, while Mr. Beamish counted the remaining days 
 of her visit with the impatience of a man having cause 
 to cast eye on a clock. For Duchess Susan was not very 
 manageable now ; she had fits of insurgency, and plainly 
 said that her time was short, and she meant to do as she 
 liked, go where she liked, play when she liked, and be an 
 independent woman — if she was so soon to be taken away 
 and boxed in a castle that was only a bigger sedan. 
 
 Caseldy protested he was as helpless as the beau. He 
 described the annoyance of his incessant running about at 
 her heels in all directions amusingly, and suggested that 
 she must be beating the district to recover her "strange 
 cavalier," of whom, or of one that had ridden beside her 
 carriage half a day on her journey to the Wells, he said she 
 had dropped a sort of hint. He complained of the impossi- 
 bility of his getting an hour in privacy with his Chloe. 
 
 "And I, accustomed to consult with her, see too little of 
 her," said Mr. Beamish. " I shall presently be seeing 
 nothing, and already I am sensible of my loss." 
 
 He represented his case to Duchess Susan : — that she 
 was for ever driving out long distances and taking Chloe 
 from him, when his occupation precluded his accompanying 
 them ; and as Chloe soon was to be lost to him for good, 
 he deeply felt her absence. 
 
 The duchess flung him enigmatical rejoinders : " You 
 can change all that, Mr. Beamish, if you like, and you 
 know you can. Oh, yes, you can. But you like being a 
 butterfly, and when you 've made ladies pale you 're happy :
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 45 
 
 and there they 're to stick and wither for you. Never ! — 
 I 've that pride. I may be worried, but I '11 never sink to 
 green and melancholy for a man." 
 
 She bridled at herself in a mirror, wherein not a sign of 
 paleness was reflected. 
 
 Mr. Beamish meditated, and he thought it prudent to 
 speak to Caseldy manfully of her childish suspicions, lest 
 she should perchance in like manner perturb the lover's mind. 
 
 " Oh, make your mind easy, my dear sir, as far as I am 
 concerned," said Caseldy. " But, to tell you the truth, I 
 think I can interpret her creamy ladyship's innuendos a 
 little differently and quite as clearly. For my part, I pre- 
 fer the pale to the blowsy, and I stake my right hand on 
 Chloe's fidelity. Whatever harm I may have the senseless 
 cruelty — misfortune, I may rather call it — to do that 
 heavenly-minded woman in our days to come, none shall 
 say of me that I was ever for an instant guilty of the base- 
 ness of doubting her purity and constancy. And, sir, I will 
 add that I could perfectly rely also on your honour." 
 
 Mr. Beamish bowed. " You do but do me justice. But, 
 say, what interpretation ? " 
 
 " She began by fearing you," said Caseldy, creating a 
 stare that was followed by a frown. " She fancies you 
 neglect her. Perhaps she has a woman's suspicion that 
 you do it to try her." 
 
 Mr. Beamish frenetically cited his many occupations. 
 "How can I be ever dancing attendance on her?" Then 
 he said, " Pooh," and tenderly fingered the ruffles of his 
 wrist. " Tush, tush," said he, " no, no : though if it came 
 to a struggle between us, I might in the interests of my 
 old friend, her lord, whom I have reasons for esteeming, 
 interpose an influence that would make the exercise of 
 my authority agreeable. Hitherto I have seen no actual 
 need of it, and I watch keenly. Her eye has been on Colo- 
 nel Poltermore once or twice — his on her. The woman is a 
 rose in June, sir, and I forgive the whole world for looking 
 — and for longing too. But I have observed nothing 
 
 serious." 
 
 " He is of our party to the beacon-head to-morrow," said 
 Caseldy. " She insisted that she would have him ; and at 
 least it will grant me furlough for an hour."
 
 46 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 "Do me the service to report to me," said Mr. Beamish. 
 
 In this fashion he engaged Caseldy to supply him with 
 inventions, and prepared himself to swallow them. It was 
 Poltermore and Poltermore, the Colonel here, the Colonel 
 there, until the chase grew so hot that Mr. Beamish could 
 no longer listen to young Mr. Camwell's fatiguing drone 
 upon his one theme of the double-dealing of Chloe's be- 
 trothed. He became of her way of thinking, and treated 
 the young gentleman almost as coldly as she. In time he 
 was ready to guess of his own acuteness that the " strange 
 cavalier " could have been no other than Colonel Polter- 
 more. When Caseldy hinted it, Mr. Beamish said, " I 
 have marked him." He added, in highly self-satisfied style, 
 " With all your foreign training, my friend, you will learn 
 that we English are not so far behind you in the art of 
 unravelling an intrigue in the dark." To which Caseldy 
 replied, that the Continental world had little to teach Mr. 
 Beamish. 
 
 Poor Colonel Poltermore, as he came to be called, was 
 clearly a victim of the sudden affability of Duchess Susan. 
 The transformation of a stiff military officer into a nimble 
 Puck, a runner of errands and a sprightly attendant, could 
 not pass without notice-. The first effect of her discrimi- 
 nating condescension on this unfortunate gentleman was to 
 make him the champion of her claims to breeding. She 
 had it by nature, she was Nature's great lady, he would 
 protest to the noble dames of the circle he moved in ; and 
 they admitted that she was different in every way from a 
 bourgeoise elevated by marriage to lofty rank : she was 
 not vulgar. But they remained doubtful of the perfect 
 simplicity of a young woman who worked such changes in 
 men as to render one of the famous conquerors of the 
 day her agitated humble servant. By rapid degrees the 
 Colonel had fallen to that. When not by her side, he was 
 ever marching with sharp strides, hurrying through rooms 
 and down alleys and groves until he had discovered and 
 attached himself to her skirts. And, curiously, the object 
 of his jealousy was the devoted Alonzo ! Mr. Beamish 
 laughed when he heard of it. The lady's excitement and 
 giddy mien, however, accused Poltermore of a stage of 
 success requiring to be combated immediately. There was
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 47 
 
 mention of Duchess Susan's mighty wish to pay a visit to 
 the popular fortune-teller of the hut on the heath, and Mr. 
 Beamish put his veto on the expedition. She had obeyed 
 him by abstaining from play of late, so he fully expected 
 that his interdict would be obeyed ; and besides the 
 fortune-teller was a rogue of a sham astrologer known to 
 have foretold to certain tender ladies things they were only 
 too desirous to imagine predestined by an extraordinary 
 indication of the course of planets through the zodiac, thus 
 causing them to sin by the example of celestial conjunctions 
 — a piece of wanton impiety. The beau took high ground 
 in his objections to the adventure. Nevertheless, Duchess 
 Susan did go. She drove to the heath at an early hour of 
 the morning, attended by Chloe, Colonel Poltermore, and 
 Caseldy. They subsequently breakfasted at an inn where 
 gipsy repasts were occasionally served to the fashion, and 
 they were back at the Wells as soon as the world was 
 abroad. Their surprise then was prodigious when Mr. 
 Beamish, accosting them in full assembly, inquired whether 
 they were satisfied with the report of their fortunes, and yet 
 more when he positively proved himself acquainted with 
 the fortunes which had been recounted to each of them 
 in privacy. 
 
 "You, Colonel Poltermore, are to be in luck's way up to 
 the tenth milestone, — where your chariot will overset and 
 you will be lamed for life." 
 
 "Not quite so bad," said the Colonel cheerfully, he 
 having been informed of much better. 
 
 "And you, Count Caseldy, are to have it all your own 
 way with good luck, after committing a deed of slaughter, 
 with the solitary penalty of undergoing a visit every night 
 from the corpse." 
 
 "Ghost," Caseldy smilingly corrected him. 
 
 " And Chloe would not have her fortune told, because 
 she knew it ! " Mr. Beamish cast a paternal glance 
 at her. "And you, madam," he bent his brows on 
 the duchess, "received the communication that 'All for 
 Love ' will sink you as it raised you, put you down 
 as it took you up, furnish the feast to the raven 
 gentleman which belongs of right to the golden eagle — ■ 
 ha?"
 
 48 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 " Nothing of the sort ! And I don't believe in any of 
 their stories," cried the duchess, with a burning face. 
 
 " You deny it, madam ? " 
 
 " I do. There was never a word of a raven or an eagle, 
 that I '11 swear, now." 
 
 " You deny that there was ever a word of ' All for 
 Love. ' ? Speak, madam." 
 
 "Their conjuror's rigmarole!" she murmured, huffing. 
 " As if I listened to their nonsense ! " 
 
 " Does the Duchess of Dewlap dare to give me the lie ? " 
 said Mr. Beamish. 
 
 " That 's not my title, and you know it," she retorted. 
 
 " What 's this ? " the angry beau sang out. " What stuff 
 is this you wear ? " He towered and laid hand on a border 
 of lace of her morning dress, tore it furiously and swung a 
 length of it round him : and while the duchess panted and 
 trembled at an outrage that won for her the sympathy of 
 every lady present as well as the championship of the gentle- 
 men, he tossed the lace to the floor and trampled on it, mak- 
 ing his big voice intelligible over the uproar: "Hear what 
 she does ! 'T is a felony ! She wears the stuff with Betty 
 Worcester's yellow starch on it for mock antique ! And 
 let who else wears it strip it off before the town shall say 
 we are disgraced — when I tell you that Betty Worcester 
 was hanged at Tyburn yesterday morning for murder ! " 
 
 There were shrieks. 
 
 Hardly had he finished speaking before the assembly 
 began to melt ; he stood in the centre like a pole unwinding 
 streamers, amid a confusion of hurrying dresses, the sound 
 and whirl and drift whereof was as that of the autumnal 
 strewn leaves on a wind rising in November. The troops 
 of ladies were off to bereave themselves of their fashionable 
 imitation old lace adornment, which denounced them in 
 some sort abettors and associates of the sanguinary loathed 
 wretch, Mrs. Elizabeth Worcester, their benefactress of the 
 previous day, now hanged and dangling on the gallows- 
 tree. 
 
 Those ladies who wore not imitation lace or any lace in 
 the morning, were scarcely displeased with the beau for 
 his exposure of them that did. The gentlemen were con- 
 founded by his exhibition of audacious power. The two
 
 THE TALE OP CHLOE 49 
 
 gentlemen nighest upon violently resenting his brutality to 
 Duchess Susan, led her from the room in company with 
 Chloe. 
 
 "The woman shall fear me to good purpose," Mr. 
 Beamish said to himself. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Mr. Camwell was in the ante-room as Chloe passed out 
 behind the two incensed supporters of Duchess Susan. 
 
 "I shall be by the fir-trees on the Mount at eight this 
 evening," she said. 
 
 " I will be there," he replied. 
 
 "Drive Mr. Beamish into the country, that these gentle- 
 men may have time to cool." 
 
 He promised her it should be done. 
 
 Close on the hour of her appointment, he stood under the 
 fir-trees, admiring the sunset along the western line of hills, 
 and when Chloe joined him he spoke of the beauty of the 
 scene. 
 
 " Though nothing seems more eloquently to say farewell," 
 he added, with a sinking voice. 
 
 "We could say it now, and be friends," she answered. 
 
 " Later than now, you think it unlikely that you could 
 forgive me, Chloe." 
 
 " In truth, sir, you are making it hard for me." 
 
 " I have stayed here to keep watch ; for no pleasure of 
 my own," said he. 
 
 " Mr. Beamish is an excellent protector of the duchess." 
 
 "Excellent; and he is cleverly taught to suppose she 
 fears him greatly ; and when she offends him, he makes 
 a display of his Jupiter's awfulness, with the effect on a 
 woman of natural spirit which you have seen, and others 
 had foreseen, that she is exasperated and grows reckless. 
 Tie another knot in your string, Chloe." 
 
 She looked away, saying, "Were you not the cause? 
 You were in collusion with that charlatan of the heath,
 
 50 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 who told them their fortunes this morning. I see far, both 
 in the dark and in the light." 
 
 "But not through a curtain. I was present." 
 
 " Hateful, hateful business of the spy ! You have worked 
 a great mischief, Mr. Camwell. And how can you reconcile 
 it to your conscience that you should play so base a part ? " 
 
 "I have but performed my duty, dear madam." 
 
 " You pretend that it is your devotion to me ! I might 
 be flattered if I saw not so abject a figure in my service. 
 Now have I but four days of my month of happiness 
 remaining, and my request to you is, leave me to enjoy 
 them. I beseech you to go. Very humbly, most earnestly, 
 I beg your departure. Grant it to me, and do not stay to 
 poison my last days here. Leave us to-morrow. I will 
 admit your good intentions. I give you my hand in grati- 
 tude. Adieu, Mr. Camwell." 
 
 He took her hand. " Adieu. I foresee an early separa- 
 tion, and this dear hand is mine while I have it in mine. 
 Adieu. It is a word to be repeated at a parting like ours. 
 We do not blow out our light with one breath ; we let it 
 fade gradually, like yonder sunset." 
 
 " Speak so," said she. 
 
 " Ah, Chloe, to give one's life ! And it is your happiness 
 I have sought more than your favour." 
 
 "I believe it; but I have not liked the means. You 
 leave us to-morrow ? " 
 
 " It seems to me that to-morrow is the term." 
 
 Her face clouded. "That tells me a very uncertain 
 promise." 
 
 " You looked forth to a month of happiness — meaning 
 a month of delusion. The delusion expires to-night. You 
 will awaken to see your end of it in the morning. You 
 have never looked beyond the month since the day of his 
 arrival." 
 
 " Let him not be named, I supplicate you." 
 
 " Then you consent that another shall be sacrificed for 
 you to enjoy your state of deception an hour longer ? " 
 
 " I am not deceived, sir. I wish for peace, and crave it, 
 and that is all I would have." 
 
 " And you make her your peace-offering, whom you have 
 engaged to serve! Too surely your eyes have been open
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 51 
 
 as well as mine. Knot by knot — I have watched you — 
 where is it ? — you have marked the points in that silken 
 string where the confirmation of a just suspicion was too 
 strong for you." 
 
 " I did it, and still I continued merry ? " She subsided 
 from her scornfulness on an involuntary " Ah ! " that was 
 a shudder. 
 
 " You acted Light Heart, madam, and too well to hood- 
 wink me. Meanwhile you allowed that mischief to pro- 
 ceed, rather than have your crazy lullaby disturbed." 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Cam well, you presume." 
 
 " The time, and my knowledge of what it is fraught 
 with, demand it and excuse it. You and I, my dear and 
 one only love on earth, stand outside of ordinary rules. 
 We are between life and death." 
 
 " We are so always." 
 
 " Listen further to the preacher : We have them close on 
 us, with the question, Which it shall be to-morrow. You 
 are for sleeping on, but I say no ; nor shall that iniquity 
 of double treachery be committed because of your desire to 
 be rocked in a cradle. Hear me out. The drug } t ou have 
 swallowed to cheat yourself will not bear the shock await- 
 ing you to-morrow with the first light. Hear these birds! 
 
 When next they sing, you will be broad awake, and of 
 
 me, and the worship and service I would have dedicated to 
 you, I do not ... it is a spectral sunset of a day that was 
 never to be ! — awake, and looking on what ? Back from 
 a monstrous villany to the forlorn wretch who winked at 
 it with knots in a string. Count them then, and where 
 will be your answer to heaven ? I begged it of you, to 
 save you from those blows of remorse ; yes, terrible ! " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " 
 
 " Terrible, I say ! " 
 
 " You are mistaken, Mr. Camwell. It is my soother. I 
 tell my beads on it." 
 
 " See how a persistent residence in this place has made 
 a Pagan of the purest soul among us ! Had you . . . but 
 that day was not to lighten me ! More adorable in your 
 errors that you are than others by their virtues, you have 
 sinned through excess of the qualities men prize. Oh, you 
 have a boundless generosity, unhappily enwound with a
 
 52 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 pride as great. There is your fault, that is the cause of 
 your misery. Too generous ! too proud ! You have trusted, 
 and you will not cease to trust ; you have vowed yourself 
 to love, never to remonstrate, never to seem to doubt; it 
 is too much your religion, rare verily. But bethink you 
 of that inexperienced and most silly good creature who is 
 on the rapids to her destruction. Is she not — you will 
 cry it aloud to-morrow — your victim ? You hear it within 
 you now." 
 
 " Friend, my dear, true friend," Chloe said in her deeper 
 voice of melody, " set your mind at ease about to-morrow 
 and her. Her safety is assured. I stake my life on it. 
 She shall not be a victim. At the worst she will but have 
 learnt a lesson. So, then, adieu! The West hangs like 
 a garland of un watered flowers, neglected by the mistress 
 they adorned. Remember the scene, and that here we 
 parted, and that Chloe wished you the happiness it was 
 out of her power to bestow, because she was of another 
 world, with her history written out to the last red streak 
 before ever you knew her. Adieu ; this time adieu for 
 good ! " 
 
 Mr. Camwell stood in her path. "Blind eyes, if you 
 like," he said, " but you shall not hear blind language. 
 I forfeit the poor consideration for me that I have treas- 
 ured ; hate me ; better hated by you than shun my duty ! 
 Your duchess is away at the first dawn this next morn- 
 ing; it has come to that. I speak with full knowledge. 
 Question her." 
 
 Chloe threw a faltering scorn of him into her voice, as 
 much as her heart's sharp throbs would allow. " I question 
 you, sir, how you came to this full knowledge you boast of ? " 
 
 " I have it ; let that suffice. Nay, I will be particular ; 
 his coach is ordered for the time I name to you ; her mai(J 
 is already at a station on the road of the flight." 
 
 " You have their servants in your pay ? " 
 
 "For the mine — the countermine. We must grub dirt 
 to match deceivers. You, madam, have chosen to be deli- 
 cate to excess, and have thrown it upon me to be gross, and 
 if you please, abominable, in my means of defending you. 
 It is not too late for you to save the lady, nor too late to 
 bring him to the sense of honour."
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 53 
 
 "I cannot think Colonel Poltermore so dishonourable." 
 
 "Poor Colonel Poltermore! the office he is made to fill 
 is an old one. Are you not ashamed, Chloe ? " 
 
 " I have listened too long," she replied. 
 
 " Then, if it is your pleasure, depart." 
 
 He made way for her. She passed him. Taking two 
 hurried steps in the gloom of the twilight, she stopped, 
 held at her heart, and painfully turning to him, threw her 
 arms out, and let herself be seized and kissed. 
 
 On his asking pardon of her, which his long habit of 
 respect forced him to do in the thick of rapture and repeti- 
 tions, she said, " You rob no one." 
 
 "Oh," he cried, "there is a reward, then, for faithful 
 love. But am I the man I was a miuute back ? I have 
 you ; I embrace you ; and I doubt that I am I. Or is it 
 Chloe's ghost?" 
 
 " She has died and visits you." 
 
 " And will again ? " 
 
 Chloe could not speak for languor. 
 
 The intensity of the happiness she gave by resting mutely 
 where she was, charmed her senses. But so long had the 
 frost been on them that their awakening to warmth was 
 haunted by speculations on the sweet taste of this reward 
 of faithfulness to him, and the strange taste of her own 
 unfaithfulness to her. And reflecting on the cold act of 
 speculation while strong arm and glowing mouth were 
 pressing her, she thought her senses might really be dead, 
 and she a ghost visiting the good youth for his comfort. 
 So feel ghosts, she thought, and what we call happiness in 
 love is a match between ecstasy and compliance. Another 
 thought flew through her like a mortal shot: "Not so 
 with those two ! with them it will be ecstasy meeting 
 ecstasy ; they will take and give happiness in equal por- 
 tions." A pang of jealousy traversed her frame. She 
 made the shrewdness of it help to nerve her fervour in 
 a last strain of him to her bosom, and gently releasing her- 
 self, she said, "No one is robbed. And now, dear friend, 
 promise me that you will not disturb Mr. Beamish." 
 
 " Chloe," said he, " have you bribed me ? " 
 
 " I do not wish' him to be troubled." 
 
 " The duchess, I have told you "
 
 54 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 " I know. But you have Chloe's word that she will 
 watch over the duchess and die to save her. It is an oath. 
 You have heard of some arrangements. I say they shall 
 lead to nothing: it shall not take place. Indeed, my friend, 
 I am awake ; I see as much as you see. And those . . . 
 after being where I have been, can you suppose I have a 
 regret ? But she is my dear and peculiar charge, and if 
 she runs a risk, trust to me that there shall be no catas- 
 trophe ; I swear it ; so, now, adieu. We sup in company 
 to-night. They will be expecting some of Chloe's verses, 
 and she must sing to herself for a few minutes to stir the 
 bed her songs take wing from ; therefore, we will part, 
 and for her sake avoid her ; do not be present at our table, 
 or in the room, or anywhere there. Yes, you rob no one," 
 she said, in a voice that curled through him deliciously by 
 wavering ; " but I think I may blush at recollections, and 
 I would rather have you absent. Adieu ! I will not ask for 
 obedience from you beyond to-night. Your word ? " 
 
 He gave it in a stupor of felicity, and she fled. 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Chloe drew the silken string from her bosom, as she 
 descended the dim pathway through the furzes, and set her 
 fingers travelling along it for the number of the knots. " I 
 have no right to be living," she said. Seven was the num- 
 ber ; seven years she had awaited her lover's return ; she 
 counted her age and completed it in sevens. Fatalism had 
 sustained her during her lover's absence ; it had fast hold 
 of her now. Thereby had she been enabled to say, " He 
 will come ; " and saying, "He has come," her touch rested 
 on the first knot in the string. She had no power to dis- 
 place her fingers, and the cause of the tying of the knot 
 stood across her brain marked in dull red characters, legible 
 neither to her eye nor to her understanding, but a reviving 
 of the hour that brought it on her spirit with human dis- 
 tinctness, except of the light of day : she had a sense of 
 having forfeited light, and of seeing perhaps more clearly. 
 

 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 55 
 
 Everything assured her that she saw more clearly than 
 others ; she saw too when it was good to cease to live. 
 
 Hers was the unhappy lot of one gifted with poetic 
 imagination to throb with the woman supplanting her, and 
 share the fascination of the man who deceived. At their 
 first meeting, in her presence, she had seen that they were 
 not strangers; she pitied them for speaking falsely, and 
 when she vowed to thwart this course of evil it was to save 
 a younger creature of her sex, not in rivalry. She treated 
 them both with a proud generosity surpassing gentleness. 
 All that there was of selfishness in her bosom resolved 
 to the enjoyment of her one month of strongly willed 
 delusion. 
 
 The kiss she had sunk to robbed no one, not even her 
 body's purity, for when this knot was tied she consigned 
 herself to her end, and had become a bag of dust. The 
 other knots in the string pointed to verifications; this first 
 one was a suspicion, and it was the more precious, she felt 
 it to be more a certainty ; it had come from the dark world 
 beyond us, where all is known. Her belief that it had 
 come thence was nourished by testimony of the space of 
 blackness wherein she had lived since, exhausting her 
 last vitality in a simulation of infantile happiness, which 
 was nothing other than the carrying on of her emotion of 
 the moment of sharp sour sweet — such as, it may be, the 
 doomed below attain for their knowledge of joy — when, at 
 the first meeting with her lover, the perception of his 
 treachery to the soul confiding in him, told her she had 
 lived, and opened out the cherishable kingdom of insensi- 
 bility to her for her heritage. 
 
 She made her tragic humility speak thankfully to the 
 wound that slew her. " Had it not been so, T should not 
 have seen him," she said : — Her lover would not have 
 come to her but for his pursuit of another woman. 
 
 She pardoned him for being attracted by that beautiful 
 transplant of the fields : pardoned her likewise. " He 
 when I saw him first was as beautiful to me. For him I 
 might have done as much." 
 
 Far away in a lighted hall of the West, her family raised 
 hands of reproach. They were minute objects, keenly dis- 
 cerned as diminished figures cut in steel. Feeling could
 
 56 I'HE TALE OF CHLOB 
 
 not be very warm for them, they were so small, and a sea 
 that had drowned her ran between ; and looking that way 
 she had scarce any warmth of feeling save for a white 
 rhaiadr leaping out of broken cloud through branched 
 rocks, where she had climbed and dreamed when a child. 
 The dream was then of the coloured days to come ; now 
 she was more infant in her mind, and she watched the 
 scattered water broaden, and tasted the spray, sat there 
 drinking the scene, untroubled by hopes as a lamb, different 
 only from an infant in knowing that she had thrown off life 
 to travel back to her home and be refreshed. She heard her 
 people talk ; they were unending babblers in the waterfall. 
 Truth was with them, and wisdom. How, then, could she 
 pretend to any right to live ? Already she had no name ; 
 she was less living than a tombstone. For who was Chloe ? 
 Her family might pass the grave of Chloe without weeping, 
 without moralizing. They had foreseen her ruin, they had 
 foretold it, they noised it in the waters, and on they sped 
 to the plains, telling the world of their prophecy, and mak- 
 ing what was untold as yet a lighter thing to do. 
 
 The lamps in an irregularly dotted line underneath the 
 hill beckoned her to her task of appearing as the gayest of 
 them that draw their breath for the day and have pulses for 
 the morrow. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 At midnight the great supper party to celebrate the recon- 
 ciliation of Mr. Beamish and Duchess Susan broke up, and 
 beneath a soft fair sky the ladies, with their silvery chatter 
 of gratitude for amusement, caught Chloe in their arms to 
 kiss her, rendering it natural for their cavaliers to exclaim 
 that Chloe was blest above mortals. The duchess preferred 
 to walk. Her spirits were excited, and her language smelt 
 of her origin, but the superb fleshly beauty of the woman 
 was aglow, and crying, " I declare I should burst in one of 
 those boxes — just as if you'd stalled me!" she fanned a 
 wind on her face, and sumptuously spread her spherical 
 skirts, attended by the vanquished and captive Colonel
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 57 
 
 Poltermore, a gentleman manifestly bent on insinuating sly 
 slips of" speech to serve for here a pinch of powder, there a 
 match. " Am I ? " she was heard to say. She blew pro- 
 digious deep-chested sighs of a coquette that has taken to 
 roaring. 
 
 Presently her voice tossed out : " As if I would ! " These 
 vivid illuminations of the Colonel's proceedings were a 
 pasture to the rearward groups, composed of two very 
 grand ladies, Caseldy, Mr. Beamish, a lord, and Chloe. 
 
 " You man ! Oh ! " sprang from the duchess. " What 
 do I hear ? I won't listen ; I can't, I must n't, I ought n't." 
 
 So she said, but her head careened, she gave him her coy 
 reluctant ear, with total abandonment to the seductions of 
 his whispers, and the lord let fly a peal of laughter. It 
 had been a supper of copious wine, and the songs which 
 rise from wine. Nature was excused by our midnight 
 naturalists. 
 
 The two great dames, admonished by the violence of the 
 nobleman's laughter, laid claim on Mr. Beamish to accom- 
 pany them at their parting with Chloe and Duchess Susan. 
 
 In the momentary shuffling of couples incident to adieux 
 among a company, the duchess murmured to Caseldy: 
 " Have I done it well ? " 
 
 He praised her for perfection in her acting. "I am at 
 your door at three, remember." 
 
 " My heart 's in my mouth," said she. 
 
 Colonel Poltermore still had the privilege of conducting 
 her the few farther steps to her lodgings. 
 
 Caseldy walked beside Chloe, and silently, until he said, 
 " If I have not yet mentioned the subject " 
 
 " If it is an allusion to money let me not hear it to-night," 
 she replied. 
 
 " I can only say that my lawyers have instructions. But 
 my lawyers cannot pay you in gratitude. Do not think me 
 in your hardest review of my misconduct ungrateful. I 
 have ever esteemed you above all women ; I do, and I 
 shall; you are too much above me. I am afraid I am a 
 composition of bad stuff ; I did not win a very particularly 
 good name on the Continent; I begin to know myself, and 
 in comparison with you, dear Catherine " 
 
 " You speak to Chloe," she said. " Catherine is a buried
 
 58 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 person. She died without pain. She is by this time 
 dust." 
 
 The man heaved his breast. " Women have not an idea 
 of our temptations." 
 
 "You are excused by me for all your errors, Caseldy. 
 Always remember that." 
 
 He sighed profoundly. "Ay, you have a Christian's 
 heart." 
 
 She answered, " I have come to the conclusion that it is 
 a Pagan's." 
 
 "As for me," he rejoined, "I am a fatalist. Through 
 life I have seen my destiny. What is to be, will be ; we 
 can do nothing." 
 
 " I have heard of one who expired of a surfeit that he 
 anticipated, nay proclaimed, when indulging in the lasV 
 desired morsel," said Chloe. 
 
 " He was driven to it." 
 
 "From within." 
 
 Caseldy acquiesced ; his wits were clouded, and an illus- 
 tration even coarser and more grotesque would have won a 
 serious nod and a sigh from him. "Yes, we are moved by 
 other hands ! " 
 
 " It is pleasant to think so : and think it of me to- 
 morrow. Will you ? " said Chloe. 
 
 He promised it heartily, to induce her to think the same 
 of him. 
 
 Their separation was in no way remarkable. The pretty 
 formalities were executed at the door, and the pair of 
 gentlemen departed. 
 
 "It's quite dark still," Duchess Susan said, looking up 
 at the sky, and she ran upstairs, and sank, complaining of 
 the weakness of her legs, in a chair of the ante-chamber of 
 her bedroom, where Chloe slept. Then she asked the time 
 of the night. She could not suppress her hushed " Oh ! " 
 of heavy throbbing from minute to minute. Suddenly she 
 started off at a quick stride to her own room, saying that it 
 must be sleepiness which affected her so. 
 
 Her bedroom had a door to the sitting-room, and thence, 
 as also from Chloe's room, the landing on the stairs was 
 reached, for the room ran parallel with both bed-chambers. 
 She walked in it and threw the window open, but closed it
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 59 
 
 immediately ; opened and shut the door, and returned and 
 called for Chloe. She wanted to be read to. Chloe named 
 certain composing books. The duchess chose a book of 
 sermons. " But we 're all such dreadful sinners, it 's better 
 not to bother ourselves late at night." She dismissed that 
 suggestion. Chloe proposed books of poetry. "Only I 
 don't understand them except about larks, and buttercups, 
 and hayfields, and that's no comfort to a woman burning," 
 was the answer. 
 
 "Are you feverish, madam?" said Chloe. And the 
 duchess was sharp on her : " Yes, madam, I am." 
 
 She reproved herself in a change of tone : " No, Chloe, 
 not feverish, only this air of yours here is such an exciting 
 air, as the doctor says ; and they made me drink wine, and 
 I played before supper — Oh ! my money ; I used to say 
 I could get more, but now ! " she sighed — " but there 's 
 better in the world than money. You know that, don't you, 
 you dear ? Tell me. And I want you to be happy ; that 
 you '11 find. I do wish we could all be ! " She wept, and 
 spoke of requiring a little music to compose her. 
 _ Chloe stretched a hand for her guitar. Duchess Susan 
 listened to some notes, and cried that it went to her heart 
 and hurt her. " Everything we like a lot has a fence and 
 a board against trespassers, because of such a lot of people 
 in the world," she moaned. "Don't play, put down that 
 thing, please, dear. You 're the cleverest creature anybody 
 
 has ever met ; they all say so. I wish I Lovely women 
 
 catch men, and clever women keep them : I 've heard that 
 said in this wretched place, and it 's a nice prospect for me, 
 next door to a fool! I know I am." 
 
 "The duke adores you, madam." 
 
 " Poor duke ! Do let him be — sleeping so woe-begone 
 with his mouth so, and that chin of a baby, like as if he 
 dreamed of a penny whistle. He shouldn't have let me 
 come here. Talk of Mr. Beamish. How he will miss you, 
 Chloe!" 
 
 " He will," Chloe said sadly. 
 
 " If you go, dear." 
 
 " I am going." 
 
 "Why should you leave him, Chloe?" 
 
 " I must."
 
 60 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 "And there, the thought of it makes you miserable! " 
 
 "It does." 
 
 " You need n't, I 'm sure." 
 
 Chloe looked at her. 
 
 The duchess turned her head. " Why can't you be gay, 
 as you were at the supper-table, Chloe ? You 're out to 
 him like a flower when the sun jumps over the hill ; you're 
 up like a lark in the dews ; as I used to be when I thought 
 of nothing. Oh, the early morning ; and I 'm sleepy. What 
 a beast I feel, with my grandeur, and the time in an hour 
 or two for the birds to sing, and me ready to drop. I must 
 go and undress." 
 
 She rushed on Chloe, kissed her hastily, declaring that she 
 was quite dead of fatigue, and dismissed her. " I don't want 
 help, I can undress myself. As if Susan Barley could n't 
 do that for herself ! and you may shut your door — I sha'n't 
 have any frights to-night, I 'm so tired out." 
 
 " Another kiss," Chloe said tenderly. 
 
 "Yes, take it" — the duchess leaned her cheek — "but 
 I 'm so tired I don't know what I 'm doing." 
 
 " It will not be on your conscience," Chloe answered, 
 kissing her warmly. 
 
 With those words she withdrew, and the duchess closed 
 the door. She ran a bolt in it immediately. 
 
 " I 'm too tired to know anything I 'm doing," she said to 
 herself, and stood with shut eyes to hug certain thoughts 
 which set her bosom heaving. 
 
 There was the bed, there was the clock. She had the 
 option of lying down and floating quietly into the day, all 
 peril past. It seemed sweet for a minute. But it soon 
 seemed an old, a worn, an end-of-autumn life, chill, without 
 aim, like a something that was hungry and toothless. 
 The bed proposing innocent sleep repelled her and drove 
 her to the clock. The clock was awful : the hand at the 
 hour, the finger following the minute, commanded her to 
 stir actively, and drove her to gentle meditations on the bed. 
 She lay down dressed, after setting her light beside the 
 clock, that she might see it at will, and considering it 
 necessary for the bed to appear to have been lain on. 
 Considering also that she ought to be heard moving about 
 in the process of undressing, she rose from the bed to
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 61 
 
 make sure of her reading of the guilty clock. An hour and 
 twenty minutes ! she had no more time than that : and it was 
 not enough for her various preparations, though it was 
 true that her maid had packed and taken a box of the 
 things chiefly needful ; but the duchess had to change her 
 shoes and her dress, and run at bo-peep with the changes 
 of her mind, a sedative preface to any fatal step among 
 women of her complexion, for so they invite indecision to 
 exhaust their scruples, and they let the blood have its way. 
 Having so short a space of time, she thought the matter 
 decided, and with some relief she flung despairing on the 
 bed, and lay down for good with her duke. In a little 
 while her head was at work reviewing him sternly, 
 estimating him not less accurately than the male moralist 
 charitable to her sex would do. She quitted the bed, with a 
 spring to escape her imagined lord ; and as if she had felt 
 him to be there, she lay down no more. A quiet life like 
 that was flatter to her idea than a handsomely bound big 
 book without any print on the pages, and without a picture. 
 Her contemplation of it, contrasted with the life waved to 
 her view by the timepiece, set her whole system raging ; 
 she burned to fly. Providently, nevertheless, she thumped 
 a pillow, and threw the bedclothes into proper disorder, 
 to inform the world that her limbs had warmed them, and 
 that all had been impulse with her. She then proceeded to 
 disrobe, murmuring to herself that she could stop now, and 
 could stop now, at each stage of the advance to a fresh dress- 
 ing of her person, and moralizing on her singular fate, in the 
 mouth of an observer. " She was shot up suddenly over 
 everybody's head, and suddenly down she went." Susan 
 whispered to herself : "But it was for love ! " Possessed by 
 the rosiness of love, she finished her business, with an atten- 
 tion to everything needed that was equal to perfect serenity 
 of mind. After which there was nothing to do, save to sit 
 humped in a chair, cover her face and count the clock- 
 tickings, that said, Yes — no ; do — don't ; fly — stay ; fly 
 — fly ! It seemed to her she heard a moving. Well she 
 might with that dreadful heart of hers! 
 
 Chloe was asleep, at peace by this time, she thought; 
 and how she envied Chloe ! She might be as happy, if she 
 pleased. Why not ? But what kind of happiness was it ?
 
 62 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 She likened it to that of the corpse underground, and 
 shrank distastefully. 
 
 Susan stood at her glass to have a look at the crea- 
 ture about whom there was all this disturbance, and she 
 threw up her arms high for a languid, not unlovely yawn, 
 that closed in blissful shuddering with the sensation of 
 her lover's arms having wormed round her waist and 
 taken her while she was defenceless. For surely they 
 would. She took a jewelled ring, his gift, from her 
 purse, and kissed it, and drew it on and off her finger, 
 leaving it on. Now she might wear it without fear of 
 inquiries and virtuous eyebrows. O heavenly now — if 
 only it were an hour hence, and going behind galloping 
 horses ! 
 
 The clock was at the terrible moment. She hesitated 
 internally and hastened; once her feet stuck fast, and 
 firmly she said, "No;" but the clock was her lord. The 
 clock was her lover and her lord; and obeying it, she 
 managed to get into the sitting-room, on the pretext that 
 she merely wished to see through the front window whether 
 daylight was coming. 
 
 How well she knew that half-light of the ebb of the 
 wave of darkness. 
 
 Strange enough it was to see it showing houses regaining 
 their solidity of the foregone day, instead of still fields, 
 black hedges, familiar shapes of trees. The houses had no 
 wakefulness, they were but seen to stand, and the light 
 was a revelation of emptiness. Susan's heart was cunning 
 to reproach her duke for the difference of the scene she 
 beheld from that of the innocent open-breasted land. Yes, 
 it was dawn in a wicked place that she never should have 
 been allowed to visit. But where was he whom she looked 
 for? There! The cloaked figure of a man was at the 
 corner of the street. It was he. Her heart froze; but 
 her limbs were strung to throw off the house, and reach 
 air, breathe, and (as her thoughts ran) swoon, well- 
 protected. To her senses the house was a house on fire, 
 and crying to her to escape. 
 
 Yet she stepped deliberately, to be sure-footed in a 
 dusky room; she touched along the wall and came to the 
 door, where a foot-stool nearly tripped her. Here hei
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 63 
 
 touch whs at fault, for though she knew she must be close 
 by the door, she was met by an obstruction unlike wood , 
 and the door seemed neither shut nor open. She could not 
 find the handle ; something hung over it. Thinking coolly, 
 she fancied the tiling must be a gown or dressing-gown ; it 
 hung heavily. Her fingers were sensible of the touch of 
 silk; she distinguished a depending bulk, and she felt at it 
 very carefully and mechanically, saying within herself, in 
 her anxiety to pass it without noise, " If I should awake 
 poor Chloe, of all people! " Her alarm was that the door 
 might creak. Before any other alarm had struck her brain, 
 the hand she felt with was in a palsy, her mouth gaped, 
 her throat thickened, the dust-ball rose in her throat, and 
 the effort to swallow it down and get breath kept her from 
 acute speculation while she felt again, pinched, plucked 
 at the thing, ready to laugh, ready to shriek. Above her 
 head, all on one side, the thing had a round white top. 
 Could it be a hand that her touch had slid across? An arm 
 too! this was an arm! She clutched it, imagining that it 
 clung to her. She pulled it to release herself from it, 
 desperately she pulled, and a lump descended, and a flash 
 of all the torn nerves of her body told her that a dead 
 human body was upon her. 
 
 At a quarter to four o'clock of a midsummer morning, as 
 Mr. Beamish relates of his last share in the Tale of Chloe, 
 a woman's voice, in piercing notes of anguish, rang out 
 three shrieks consecutively, which were heard by him at 
 the instant of his quitting his front doorstep, in obedience 
 to the summons of young Mr. Camwell, delivered ten 
 minutes previously, with great urgency, by that gentle- 
 man's lacquey. On his reaching the street of the house 
 inhabited by Duchess Susan, he perceived many night- 
 capped heads at windows, and one window of the house in 
 question lifted but vacant. His first impression accused 
 the pair of gentlemen, whom he saw bearing drawn swords 
 in no friendly attitude, of an ugly brawl that had probably 
 affrighted her Grace, or her personal attendant, a woman 
 capable of screaming, for he was well assured that it could 
 not have been Chloe, the least likely of her sex to abandon 
 herself to the use of their weapous either in terror or in
 
 64 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 jeopardy. The antagonists were Mr. Camwell and Count) 
 Caseldy. On his approaching them, Mr. Camwell sheathed 
 his sword, saying that his work was done. Caseldy was 
 convulsed with wrath, to such a degree as to make the part 
 of an intermediary perilous. There had been passes be- 
 tween them, and Caseldy cried aloud that he would have 
 his enemy's blood. The night-watch was nowhere. Soon, 
 however, certain shopmen and their apprentices assisted 
 Mr. Beamish to preserve the peace, despite the fury of 
 Caseldy and the provocations — "not easy to withstand," 
 says the chronicler — offered by him to young Camwell. 
 The latter said to Mr. Beamish: "I knew I should be no 
 match, so I sent for you," causing his friend astonish- 
 ment, inasmuch as he was assured of the youth's natural 
 valour. 
 
 Mr. Beamish was about to deliver an allocution of re- 
 proof to them in equal shares, being entirely unsuspicious 
 of any other reason for the alarum than this palpable out- 
 break of a rivalry that he would have inclined to attrib- 
 ute to the charms of Chloe, when the house-door ■ swung 
 wide for them to enter, and the landlady of the house, 
 holding clasped hands at full stretch, implored them to 
 run up to the poor lady: "Oh, she's dead; she's dead, 
 dead!" 
 
 Caseldy rushed past her. 
 
 "How, dead! good woman?" Mr. Beamish questioned 
 her most incredulously, half-smiling. 
 
 She answered among her moans : " Dead by the neck ; off 
 the door.— Oh!" 
 
 Young Camwell pressed his forehead, with a call on his 
 Maker's name. As they reached the landing upstairs, 
 Caseldy came out of the sitting-room. 
 
 " Which ? " said Camwell to the speaking of his face. 
 
 " She ! " said the other. 
 
 "The duchess?" Mr. Beamish exclaimed. 
 
 But Camwell walked into the room. He had nothing to 
 ask after that reply. 
 
 The figure stretched along the floor was covered with a 
 sheet. The young man fell at his length beside it, and his 
 face was downward.
 
 THE TALE OF CHLOE 65 
 
 Mr. Beamish relates: "To this day, when I write at an 
 interval of fifteen years, I have the tragic ague of that hour 
 in my blood, and I behold the shrouded form of the most 
 admirable of women, whose heart was broken by a faithless 
 tnan ere she devoted her wreck of life to arrest one weaker 
 than herself on the descent to perdition. Therein it was 
 beneficently granted her to be of the service she prayed to 
 be through her death. She died to save. In a last letter, 
 found upon her pin-cushion, addressed to me under seai 
 of secrecy toward the parties principally concerned, she 
 anticipates the whole confession of the unhappy duchess. 
 Nay, she prophesies: ' The duchess will tell you truly she 
 has had enough of love ! ' Those actual words were reiter- 
 ated to me by the poor lady daily until her lord arrived to 
 head the funeral procession, and assist in nursing back 
 the shattered health of his wife to a state that should fit 
 her for travelling. To me, at least, she was constant in 
 repeating, ' No more of love ! ' By her behaviour to her 
 duke, I can judge her to have been sincere. She spoke of 
 feeling Chloe's eyes go through her with every word of 
 hers that she recollected. Nor was the end of Chloe less 
 effective upon the traitor. He was in the procession to her 
 grave. He spoke to none. There is a line of the verse 
 bearing the superscription, ' My Reasons for Dying, ' that 
 shows her to have been apprehensive to secure the safety 
 of Mr. Cam well : 
 
 I die because my heart is dead : 
 
 To warn a soul from sin I die : 
 
 I die that blood may not be shed, etc. 
 
 She feared he would be somewhere on the road to mar the 
 fugitives, and she knew him, as indeed he knew himself, 
 no match for one trained in the foreign tricks of steel, 
 ready though he was to dispute the traitor's way. She 
 remembers Mr. Camwell's petition for the knotted silken 
 string in her request that it shall be cut from her throat 
 and given to him." 
 
 Mr. Beamish indulges in verses above the grave of 
 Chloe. They are of a character to cool emotion. But 
 when we find a man, who is commonly of the quickest 
 susceptibility to ridicule as well as to what is befitting,
 
 66 THE TALE OF CHLOE 
 
 careless of exposure, we may reflect on the truthfulness of 
 feeling by which he is drawn to pass his own guard and 
 come forth in his nakedness; something of the poet's 
 tongue may breathe to us through his mortal stammering, 
 even if we have to acknowledge that a quotation would 
 scatter pathos.
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 A REALISTIC TALE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 The experience of great officials who have laid down their 
 dignities before death, or have had the philosophic mind 
 to review themselves while still wielding the deputy 
 sceptre, teaches them that in the exercise of authority over 
 men an eccentric behaviour in trifles has most exposed 
 them to hostile criticism and gone farthest to jeopardize 
 their popularity. It is their Achilles' heel; the place 
 where their mother Nature holds them as she dips them 
 in our waters. The eccentricity of common persons is the 
 entertainment of the multitude, and the maternal hand is 
 perceived for a cherishing and endearing sign upon them; 
 but rarely can this be found suitable for the august in 
 station ; only, indeed, when their sceptre is no more fearful 
 than a grandmother's birch ; and these must learn from it 
 sooner or later that they are uncomfortably mortal. 
 
 When herrings are at auction on a beach, for example, 
 the man of chief distinction in the town should not step in 
 among a poor fraternity to take advantage of an occasion 
 of cheapness, though it be done, as he may protest, to 
 relieve the fishermen of a burden ; nor should such a dig- 
 nitary as the bailiff of a Cinque Port carry home the spoil 
 of victorious bargaining on his arm in a basket. It is not 
 that his conduct is in itself objectionable, so much as that 
 it causes him to be popularly weighed; and during life, 
 until the best of all advocates can plead before our fellow 
 Englishmen that we are out of their way, it is prudent to 
 avoid the process
 
 70 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 Mr. Tinman, however, this high-stepping person in 
 question, happened to have come of a marketing mother. 
 She had started him from a small shop to a big one. He, 
 by the practice of her virtues, had been enabled to start 
 himself as a gentleman. He was a man of this ambition, 
 and prouder behind it. But having started himself precipi- 
 tately, he took rank among independent incomes, as they 
 are called, only to take fright at the perils of starvation 
 besetting one who has been tempted to abandon the source 
 of fifty per cent. So, if noble imagery were allowable in 
 our time in prose, might alarms and partial regrets be 
 assumed to animate the splendid pumpkin cut loose from 
 the suckers. Deprived of that prodigious nourishment of 
 the shop in the fashionable seaport of Helmstone, he 
 retired upon his native town, the Cinque Port of Crikswich, 
 where he rented the cheapest residence he could discover 
 for his habitation, the House on the Beach, and lived 
 imposingly, though not in total disaccord with his old 
 mother's principles. His income, as he observed to his 
 widowed sister and solitary companion almost daily in 
 their privacy, was respectable. The descent from an alti- 
 tude of fifty to five per cent, cannot but be felt. Never- 
 theless it was a comforting midnight bolster reflection for a 
 man, turning over to the other side between a dream and 
 a wink, that he was making no bad debts, and one must 
 pay to be addressed as esquire. Once an esquire, you are 
 off the ground in England and on the ladder. An esquire 
 can offer his hand in marriage to a lady in her own right; 
 plain esquires have married duchesses ; they marry baro- 
 nets' daughters every day of the week. 
 
 Thoughts of this kind were as the rise and fall of waves 
 in the bosom of the new esquire. How often in his Helm- 
 stone shop had he not heard titled ladies disdaining to talk 
 a whit more prettily than ordinary women; and he had 
 been a match for the subtlety of their pride — he understood 
 it. He knew well that at the hint of a proposal from him 
 they would have spoken out in a manner very different to 
 that of ordinary women. The lightning, only to be warded 
 by an esquire, was in them. He quitted business at the 
 age of forty, that he might pretend to espousals with a 
 born lady; or at least it was one of the ideas in his mind.
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 71 
 
 And here, I think, is the moment for the epitaph of 
 anticipation over him, and the exclamation, alas ! 1 would 
 not be premature, but it is necessary to create some interest 
 in him, and no one but a foreigner could feel it at present 
 for the Englishman who is bursting merely to do like the 
 rest of his countrymen, and rise above them to shake them 
 class by class as the dust from his heels. Alas! then — 
 and undertaker's pathos is better than none at all — he was 
 not a single-minded aspirant to our social honours. The 
 old marketing mother, to whom he owed his fortunes, was 
 in his blood to confound his ambition; and so contradictory 
 was the man's nature, that in revenge for disappointments, 
 there were times when he turned against the saving spirit 
 of parsimony. Readers deep in Greek dramatic writings 
 will see the fatal Sisters behind the chair of a man who 
 gives frequent and bigger dinners, that he may become 
 important in his neighbourhood, while decreasing the 
 price he pays for his wine, that he may miserably indem- 
 nify himself for the outlay. A sip of his wine fetched the 
 breath, as when men are in the presence of the tremendous 
 elements of nature. It sounded the constitution more 
 darkly-awful, and with a profounder testimony to stubborn 
 health, than the physician's instruments. Most of the 
 guests at Mr. Tinman's table were so constructed that 
 they admired him for its powerful quality the more at his 
 announcement of the price of it; the combined strength 
 and cheapness probably flattering them, as by another 
 mystic instance of the national energy. It must have been 
 so, since his townsmen rejoiced to hail him as head of their 
 town. Here and there a solitary esquire, fished out of the 
 bathing season to dine at the house on the beach, was 
 guilty of raising one of those clamours concerning subse- 
 quent headaches, which spread an evil reputation as a pall. 
 A resident esquire or two, in whom a reminiscence of 
 Tinman's table may be likened to the hook which some old 
 trout has borne away from the angler as the most vivid 
 of warnings to him to beware for the future, caught up the 
 black report and propagated it. 
 
 The Lieutenant of the Coastguard, hearing the latest con- 
 scious victim, or hearing of him, would nod his head and 
 say he had never dined at Tinman's table without a head-
 
 72 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 ache ensuing and a visit to the chemist's shop; which, he 
 was assured, was good for trade, and he acquiesced, as it 
 was right to do in a man devoted to his country. He dined 
 with Tinman again. We try our best to be social. For 
 eight months in our year he had little choice but to dine 
 with Tinman or be a hermit attached to a telescope. 
 
 " Where are you going, Lieutenant ? " His frank reply 
 to the question was, "I am going to be killed;" and it 
 grew notorious that this meant Tinman's table. We get 
 on together as well as we can. Perhaps if we were an 
 acutely calculating people we should find it preferable both 
 for trade and our physical prosperity to turn and kill Tin- 
 man, in contempt of consequences. But we are not, and so 
 he does the business gradually for us. A generous people 
 we must be, for Tinman was not detested. The recollection 
 of "next morning " caused him to be dimly feared. 
 
 Tinman, meanwhile, was awake only to the circumstance 
 that he made no progress as an esquire, except on the 
 envelopes of letters, and in his own esteem. That broad 
 region he began to occupy to the exclusion of other inhab- 
 itants; and the result of such a state of princely isolation 
 was a plunge of his whole being into deep thoughts. 
 From the hour of his investiture as the town's chief man, 
 thoughts which were long shots took possession of him. 
 He had his wits about him; he was alive to ridicule; he 
 kuew he was not popular below, or on easy terms with 
 people above him, and he meditated a surpassing stroke as 
 one of the Band of Esq., that had nothing original about it 
 to perplex and annoy the native mind, yet was dazzling. 
 Few members of the privileged Band dare even imagine 
 the thing. 
 
 It will hardly be believed, but it is historical fact, that 
 in the act of carrying fresh herrings home on his arm, he 
 entertained the idea of a visit to the First Person and 
 Head of the realm, and was indulging in pleasing visions 
 of the charms of a personal acquaintance. Nay, he had 
 already consulted with brother jurats. For you must know 
 that one of the princesses had recently suffered betrothal 
 in the newspapers, and supposing her to deign to ratify the 
 engagement, what so reasonable on the part of a Cinque 
 Port chieftain as to congratulate his liege mistress, her
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 73 
 
 illustrious mother ? These are thoughts and these are 
 deeds which give emotional warmth and colour to the 
 electer members of a population wretchedly befogged. 
 They are our sunlight, and our brighter theme of conversa- 
 tion. They are necessary to the climate and the Saxon 
 mind; and it would be foolish to put them away, as it is 
 foolish not to do our utmost to be intimate with terrestrial 
 splendours while we have them — as it may be said of 
 wardens, mayors, and bailiffs — at command. ' Tinman was 
 quite of this opinion. They are there to relieve our 
 dulness. We have them in the place of heavenly ; and he 
 would have argued that we have a right to bother them too. 
 He had a notion, up in the clouds, of a Sailors' Convales- 
 cent Hospital at Crikswich to seduce a prince with, hand 
 him the trowel, make him "lay the stone," and then — 
 poor prince ! — refresh him at table. But that was a 
 matter for by and by. 
 
 His purchase of herrings completed, Mr. Tinman walked 
 across the mound of shingle to the house on the beach. He 
 was rather a fresh-faced man, of the Saxon colouring, and 
 at a distance looking good-humoured. That he should 
 have been able to make such an appearance while doing 
 daily battle with his wine, was a proof of great physical 
 vigour. His pace was leisurely, as it must needs be over 
 pebbles, where half a step is subtracted from each whole 
 one in passing; and, besides, he was aware of a general 
 breath at his departure that betokened a censorious assem- 
 bly. Why should he not market for himself ? He threw 
 dignity into his retreating figure in response to the inter- 
 nal interrogation. The moment was one when conscious 
 rectitude requires that man should have a tail for its just 
 display. Philosophers have drawn attention to the power 
 of the human face to express pure virtue, but no sooner 
 has it passed on than the spirit erect within would seem 
 helpless. The breadth of our shoulders is apparently 
 presented for our critics to write on. Poor duty is done 
 by the simple sense of moral worth, to supplant that 
 absence of feature in the plain flat back. We are below 
 the animals in this. How charged with language behind 
 him is a dog! Everybody has noticed it. Let a dog turn 
 away from a hostile circle, and his crisp and wary tail not
 
 74 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 merely defends him, it menaces; it is a weapon. Man has 
 no choice but to surge and boil, or stiffen preposterously. 
 Knowing the popular sentiment about his marketing — for 
 men can see behind their backs, though they may have 
 nothing to speak with — Tinman resembled those persons 
 of principle who decline to pay for a " Bless your honour! " 
 from a voluble beggar-woman, and obtain the reverse of it 
 after they have gone by. He was sufficiently sensitive to 
 feel that his back was chalked as on a slate. The only 
 remark following him was, "There he goes! " 
 
 He went to the seaward gate oi the house on the beach, 
 made practicable in a low flint wall, where he was met by 
 his sister Martha, to whom he handed the basket. Appar- 
 ently he named the cost of his purchase per dozen. She 
 touched the fish and pressed the bellies of the topmost, it 
 might be to question them tenderly concerning their roes. 
 Then the couple passed out of sight. Herrings were soon 
 after this despatching their odours through the chimneys 
 of all Crikswich, and there was that much of concord and 
 festive union among the inhabitants. 
 
 The house on the beach had been posted where it stood, 
 one supposes, for the sake of the sea-view, from which it 
 turned right about to face the town across a patch of grass 
 and salt scurf, looking like a square and scornful corporal 
 engaged in the perpetual review of an awkward squad 
 of recruits. Sea delighted it not, nor land either. Marine 
 Parade fronting it to the left, shaded sickly eyes, under a 
 worn green verandah, from a sun that rarely appeared, as 
 the traducers of spinsters pretend those virgins are ever 
 keenly on their guard against him that cometh not. Belle 
 Vue Terrace stared out of lank glass panes without reserve, 
 unashamed of its yellow complexion. A gaping public- 
 house, calling itself newly Hotel, fell backward a step. 
 Villas with the titles of royalty and bloody battles claimed 
 five feet of garden, and swelled in bow-windows beside 
 other villas which drew up firmly, commending to the 
 attention a decent straightness and un intrusive decorum in 
 preference. On an elevated meadow to the right was the 
 Crouch. The Hall oi Elba nestled among weather-beaten 
 dwarf woods further toward the cliff. Shavenness, feature- 
 lessness, emptiness, clamminess, scurfiness, formed the
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 75 
 
 outward expression of a town to which people were rea- 
 sonably glad to come from London in summer-time, for there 
 was nothing in Crikswich to distract the naked pursuit of 
 health. The sea tossed its renovating brine to the deter- 
 minedly sniffing animal, who went to his meals Avith an 
 appetite that rendered him cordially eulogistic of the place, 
 in spite of certain frank whiffs of sewerage coming off an 
 open deposit on the common to mingle with the brine. 
 Tradition told of a French lady and gentleman entering 
 the town to take lodgings for a month, and that on the 
 morrow they took a boat from the shore, saying in their 
 faint English to a sailor veteran of the coastguard, whom 
 they had consulted about the weather, "It is better zis 
 zan zat," as they shrugged between rough sea and corpse- 
 like land. And they were not seen again. Their meaning 
 none knew. Having paid their bill at the lodging-house, 
 their conduct was ascribed to systematic madness. Eng- 
 lish people came to Crikswich for the pure salt sea air, and 
 they did not expect it to be cooked and dressed and 
 decorated for them. If these things are done to nature, it 
 is nature no longer that you have, but something Frenchi- 
 fied. Those French are for trimming Neptune's beard! 
 Only wait, and you are sure to find variety in nature, more 
 than you may like. You will find it in Neptune. What 
 say jou to a breach of the sea-wall, and an inundation of 
 the aromatic grass-flat extending from the house on the 
 beach to the tottering terraces, villas, cottages, and public- 
 house transformed by its ensign to Hotel, along the front- 
 age of the town ? Such an event had occurred of old, and 
 had given the house on the beach the serious shaking great 
 Neptune in his wrath alone can give. But many years had 
 intervened. Groynes had been run down to intercept him 
 and divert him. He generally did his winter mischief od 
 a mid and salt marshes lower westward. Mr. Tinman had 
 always been extremely zealous in promoting the expendi- 
 ture of what moneys the town had to spare upon the 
 protection of the shore, as it were for the propitiation or 
 defiance of the sea-god. There was .a kindly joke against 
 him on that subject among brother jurats. He retorted 
 with the joke, that the first thing for Englishmen to look 
 t*> w«*6 England's defences.
 
 76 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 But it will not do to be dwelling too fondly on our eras 
 of peace, for which we make such splendid sacrifices. 
 Peace, saving for the advent of a German band, which 
 troubled the repose of the town at intervals, had imparted 
 to the inhabitants of Crikswich, within and without, the 
 likeness to its most perfect image, together, it must be con- 
 fessed, with a degree of nervousness that invested common 
 events with some of the terrors of the Last Trump, when 
 one night, just upon the passing of the vernal equinox, 
 something happened. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A carriage stopped short in the ray of candlelight that 
 was fitfully and feebly capering on the windy blackness 
 outside the open workshop of Crickledon, the carpenter, 
 fronting the sea-beach. Mr. Tinman's house was inquired 
 for. Crickledon left off planing; at half-sprawl over the 
 board, he bawled out, "Turn to the right; right ahead f 
 can't mistake it." He nodded to one of the cronies intent 
 on watching his labours : " Not unless they mean to be 
 bait for whiting-pout. Who's that for Tinman, I won- 
 der ? " The speculations of Crickledon's friends were lost 
 in the scream of the plane. 
 
 One cast an eye through tne door and observed that the 
 carriage was there still. " Gentleman 's got out and 
 walked," said Crickledon. He was informed that some- 
 body was visible inside. " Gentleman's wife, mayhap," 
 he said. His friends indulged in their privilege of think- 
 ing what they liked, and there was the usual silence of 
 tongues in the shop. He furnished them sound and mo- 
 tion for their amusement, and now and then a scrap of 
 conversation ; and the sedater spirits dwelling in his im- 
 mediate neighbourhood were accustomed to step in and see 
 him work up to supper-time, instead of resorting to the 
 more turbid and costly excitement of the public-house. 
 
 Crickledon looked up from the measurement of a thumb- 
 line. In the doorway stood a bearded gentleman, who
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 77 
 
 announced himself with the startling exclamation, "Here's 
 a pretty pickle ! " and bustled to make way for a man 
 well known to them as Ned Crummins, the upholsterer's 
 man, on whose back hung an article of furniture, the con- 
 dition of which, with a condensed brevity of humour 
 worthy of literary admiration, he displayed by mutely 
 turning himself about as he entered. 
 
 " Smashed ! " was the general outcry. 
 
 "I ran slap into him," said the gentleman. "Who the 
 deuce ! — no bones broken, that 's one thing. The fellow 
 . . . there, look at him : he 's like a glass tortoise." 
 
 "It's a chiwal glass," Crickledon remarked, and laid 
 finger on the star in the centre. 
 
 " Gentleman ran slap into me," said Crummins, deposit- 
 ing the frame on the floor of the shop. 
 
 "Never had such a shock in my life," continued the 
 gentleman. " Upon my soul, I took him for a door : I did 
 indeed. A kind of light flashed from one of your houses 
 here, and in the pitch dark I thought I was at the door 
 of old Mart Tinman's house, and dash me if I did n't go 
 in — crash ! But what the deuce do you do, carrying that 
 great big looking-glass at night, man ? And, look here : 
 tell me ; how was it you happened to be going glass fore- 
 most when you 'd got the glass on your back ? " 
 
 "Well, 't ain't my fault, I knows that," rejoined Crum- 
 mins. "I came along as careful as a man could. I was 
 just going to bawl out to Master Tinman, 'I knows the 
 way, never fear me ' ; for I thinks I hears 'n call from his 
 house, ' Do ye see the way ? ' and into me this gentleman 
 runs all his might, and smash goes the glass. It was just 
 ten steps from Master Tinman's gate, and that careful, I 
 reckoned every foot I put down, that I was ; I knows I 
 did, though." 
 
 " Why, it was me calling, ' I 'm sure I can't see the way.' 
 You heard me, you donkey ! " retorted the bearded gentle- 
 man. " What was the good of your turning that glass 
 against me in the very nick when I dashed on you ? " 
 
 " Well, 't ain't my fault, I swear," said Crummins. "The 
 wind catches voices so on a pitch dark night, you never can 
 tell whether they be on one shoulder or the other. And if 
 I 'm to go and lose my place through no fault of mine "
 
 78 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 " Have n't I told you, sir, I 'm going to pay the damage ? 
 Here," said the gentleman, fumbling at his waistcoat, 
 "here, take this card. Read it." 
 
 For the first time during the scene in the carpenter's 
 shop, a certain pomposity swelled the gentleman's tone. 
 His delivery of the card appeared to act on him like the 
 flourish of a trumpet before great men. 
 
 "Van Diemen Smith," he proclaimed himself for the 
 assistance of Ned Crummins in his task ; the latter's look 
 of sad concern on receiving the card seeming to declare an 
 unscholarly conscience. 
 
 An anxious feminine voice was heard close beside Mr. 
 Van Diemen Smith. 
 
 " Oh, papa, has there been an accident ? Are you hurt ? " 
 
 " Not a bit, Netty ; not a bit. Walked into a big look- 
 ing-glass in the dark, that 's all. A matter of eight or ten 
 pound, and that won't stump us. But these are what I 
 call queer doings in Old England, when you can't take a 
 step in the dark on the seashore without plunging bang 
 into a glass. And it looks like bad luck to my visit to old 
 Mart Tinman. Can you," he addressed the company, " tell 
 me of a clean, wholesome lodging-house ? I was thinking 
 of flinging myself, body and baggage, on your mayor, or 
 whatever he is — my old schoolmate; but I don't so much 
 like this beginning. A couple of bed-rooms and sitting- 
 room ; clean sheets, well aired ; good food, well cooked ; 
 payment per week in advance." 
 
 The pebble dropped into deep water speaks of its depth 
 by the tardy arrival of bubbles on the surface, and, in like 
 manner, the very simple question put by Mr. Van Diemen 
 Smith pursued its course of penetration in the assembled 
 mind in the carpenter's shop for a considerable period, 
 with no sign to show that it had reached the bottom. 
 
 "Surely, papa, we can go to an inn? There must be 
 some hotel," said his daughter. 
 
 "There's good accommodation at the Cliff Hotel hard 
 by," said Crickledon. 
 
 " But," said one of his friends, " if you don't want to 
 go so far, sir, there 's Master Crickledon's own house next 
 door, and his wife lets lodgings, and there 's not a better 
 cook along this coast."
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 79 
 
 " Then why did n't the man mention it? Is he afraid 
 of having me?" asked Mr. Smith, a little thunderingly. 
 " I may n't be known much yet in England ; but I '11 tell 
 you, you inquire the route to Mr. Van Diemen Smith over 
 there in Australia " 
 
 "Yes, papa," interrupted his daughter, " only you must 
 consider that it may not be convenient to take us in at 
 this hour — so late." 
 
 "It's not that, miss, begging your pardon," said Crickle- 
 don. "I make a point of never recommending my own house. 
 That's where it is. Otherwise you're welcome to try us." 
 
 " I ivas thinking of falling bounce on my old schoolmate, 
 and putting Old English hospitality to the proof," Mr. 
 Smith meditated. "But it's late. Yes, and that con- 
 founded glass ! No, we '11 bide with you, Mr. Carpenter. 
 I '11 send my card across to Mart Tinman to-morrow, and 
 set him agog at his breakfast." 
 
 Mr. Van Diemen Smith waved his hand for Crickledon 
 to lead the way. 
 
 Hereupon Ned Crummins looked up from the card he 
 had been turning over and over, more and more like one 
 arriving at a condemnatory judgment of a fish. 
 
 " I can't go and gi'e my master a card instead of his 
 glass," he remarked. 
 
 " Yes, that reminds me ; and I should like to know 
 what you meant by bringing that glass away from Mr. Tin- 
 man's house at night," said Mr. Smith. " If I'm to pay 
 for it, I 've a right to know. What 's the meaning of mov- 
 ing it at night? Eh, let's hear. Night's not the time 
 for moving big glasses like that. I 'm not so sure I have n't 
 got a case." 
 
 " If you '11 step round to my master along o' me, sir," 
 said Crummins, " perhaps he'll explain." 
 
 Crummins was requested to state who his master was, 
 and he replied, " Phippun and Company ; " but Mr. Smith 
 positively refused to go with him. 
 
 "But here," said he, "is a crown for you, for you're a 
 civil fellow. You '11 know where to find me in the morn- 
 ing ; and mind, I shall expect Phippun and Company to 
 give me a very good account of their reason for moving a 
 big looking-glass on a night like this. There, be off."
 
 80 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 The crown-piece in his hand effected a genial change in 
 Crummins' disposition to communicate. Crickledon spoke 
 to him about the glass ; two or three of the others present 
 jogged him. " What did Mr. Tinman want by having the 
 glass moved so late in the day, Ned ? Your master was n't 
 nervous about his property, was he ? " 
 
 " Not he," said Crummins, and began to suck down his 
 upper lip and agitate his eyelids and stand uneasily, glim- 
 mering signs of the setting in of the tide of narration. 
 
 He caught the eye of Mr. Smith, then looked abashed 
 at Miss. 
 
 Crickledon saw his dilemma. " Say what 's uppermost, 
 Ned; never mind how you says it. English is English. 
 Mr. Tinman sent for you to take the glass away, now, 
 did n't he ? " 
 
 " He did/' said Crummins. 
 
 " And you went to him." 
 
 « Ay, that I did." 
 
 " And he fastened the chiwal glass upon your back." 
 
 " He did that." 
 
 " That 's all plain sailing. Had he bought the glass ? " 
 
 " No, he had n't bought it. He 'd hired it." 
 
 As when upon an enforced visit to the dentist, people 
 have had one tooth out, the remaining offenders are more 
 willingly submitted to the operation, insomuch that a poeti- 
 cal licence might hazard the statement that they shed them 
 like leaves of the tree, so Crummins, who had shrunk from 
 speech, now volunteered whole sentences in succession, and 
 how important they were deemed by his fellow-townsman, 
 Mr. Smith, and especially Miss Annette Smith, could per- 
 ceive in their ejaculations, before they themselves were 
 drawn into the strong current of interest. 
 
 And this was the matter : Tinman had hired the glass 
 for three days. Latish, on the very first day of the hiring, 
 close upon dark, he had despatched imperative orders to 
 Phippun and Company to take the glass out of his house 
 on the spot. And why ? Because, as he maintained, there 
 was a fault in the glass causing an incongruous and absurd 
 reflection ; and he was at that moment awaiting the arrival 
 of another cheval-glass. 
 
 " Cut along, Ned," said Crickledon.
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 81 
 
 " What the deuce does he want with a cheval-glass at 
 all?" cried Mr. Smith, endangering the flow of the story 
 by suggesting to the narrator that he must " hark back," 
 which to him was equivalent to the jumping of a chasm 
 hind ward. Happily his brain had seized a picture : 
 
 "Mr. Tinman, he's a-standin' in his best Court suit." 
 
 Mr. Tinman's old schoolmate gave a jump; and no 
 wonder. 
 
 " Standing ? " he cried ; and as the act of standing was 
 really not extraordinary, he fixed upon the suit : " Court ? " 
 
 " So Mrs. Cavely told me, it was what he was standin' 
 in, and as I found 'n I left 'n," said Crummins. 
 
 " He 's standing in it now ? " said Mr. Van Diemen Smith, 
 with a great gape. 
 
 Crummins doggedly repeated the statement. Many 
 would have ornamented it in the repetition, but he was 
 for bare flat truth. 
 
 "He must be precious proud of having a Court suit," 
 said Mr. Smith, and gazed at his daughter so glassily that 
 she smiled, though she was impatient to proceed to Mrs. 
 Crickledon's lodgings. 
 
 "Oh! there's where it is?" interjected the carpenter, 
 with a funny frown at a low word from Ned Crummins. 
 " Practicing, is he ? Mr. Tinman 's practicing before the 
 glass preparatory to his going to the palace in London." 
 
 " He gave me a shillin'," said Crummins. 
 
 Crickledon comprehended him immediately. "We 
 sha'n't speak about it, Ned." 
 
 What did you see ? was thus cautiously suggested. 
 
 The shilling was on Crummins' tongue to check his 
 betrayal of the secret scene. But remembering that he had 
 only witnessed it by accident, and that Mr. Tinman had 
 not completely taken him into his confidence, he thrust his 
 hand down his pocket to finger the crown-piece lying in 
 fellowship with the coin it multiplied five times, and was 
 inspired to think himself at liberty to say : " All I saw 
 was when the door opened. Not the house-door. It was 
 the parlour-door. I saw him walk up to the glass, and 
 walk back from the glass. And when he 'd got up to jhe 
 glass he bowed, he did, and he went back'ards just so." 
 
 Doubtless the presence of a lady was the active agent
 
 82 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 that prevented Crummins from doubling his body entirely, 
 and giving more than a rapid indication of the posture of 
 Mr. Tinman in his retreat before the glass. But it was a 
 glimpse of broad burlesque, and though it was received 
 with becoming sobriety by the men in the carpenter's shop, 
 Annette plucked at her father's arm. 
 
 She could not get him to depart. That picture of his 
 old schoolmate Martin Tinman practicing before a cheval- 
 glass to present himself at the palace in his Court suit, 
 seemed to stupefy his Australian intelligence. 
 
 " What right has he got to go to Court ? " Mr. Van 
 Diemen Smith inquired, like the foreigner he had become 
 through exile. 
 
 " Mr. Tinman 's bailiff of the town," said Crickledon. 
 "And what was his objection to that glass I smashed? " 
 " He 's rather an irritable gentleman," Crickledon mur- 
 mured, and turned to Crummins. 
 
 Crummins growled : " He said it was misty, and gave 
 him a twist." 
 
 " What a big fool he must be ! eh ? " Mr. Smith glanced 
 at Crickledon and the other faces for the verdict of Tin- 
 man's townsmen upon his character. 
 
 They had grounds for thinking differently of Tinman. 
 " He 's no fool," said Crickledon. 
 Another shook his head. " Sharp at a bargain." 
 " That he be," said the chorus. 
 
 Mr. Smith was informed that Mr. Tinman would prob- 
 ably end by buying up half the town. 
 
 " Then," said Mr. Smith, " he can afford to pay half the 
 money for that glass, and pay he shall." 
 
 A serious view of the recent catastrophe was presented 
 by his declaration. 
 
 In the midst of a colloquy regarding the cost of the 
 glass, during which it began to be seen by Mr. Tinman's 
 townsmen that there was laughing-stuff for a year or so in 
 the scene witnessed by Crummins, if they postponed a bit 
 their right to the laugh and took it in doses, Annette induced 
 her father to signal to Crickledon his readiness to go and 
 see the lodgings. No sooner had he done it than he said, 
 " What on earth made us wait all this time here ? I'm 
 hungry, my dear ; I want supper."
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 83 
 
 "That is because you have had a disappointment. 1 
 know you, papa," said Annette. 
 
 "Yes, it's rather a damper about old Mart Tinman," 
 her father assented. " Or else I have n't recovered the 
 shock of smashing that glass, and visit it on him. ]>ut, 
 upon my honour, he 's my only friend in England, I have n't 
 a single relative that I know of, and to come and find your 
 only friend making a donkey of himself, is enough to make 
 a man think of eating and drinking." 
 
 Annette murmured reproachfully: "We can hardly say 
 he is our only friend in England, papa, can we ? " 
 
 "Do you mean that young fellow? You'll take my 
 appetite away if you talk of him. He's a stranger. I 
 don't believe he 's worth a penny. He owns he 's what 
 he calls a journalist." 
 
 These latter remarks were hurriedly exchanged at the 
 threshold of Crickledon's house. 
 
 " It don't look promising," said Mr. Smith. 
 
 "I didn't recommend it," said Crickledon. 
 
 "Why the deuce do you let your lodgings, then ? " 
 
 " People who have come once come again." 
 
 " Oh ! I am in England," Annette sighed joyfully, feel- 
 ing at home in some trait she had detected in Crickledon. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 The story of the shattered cheval-glass and the visit of 
 Tinman's old schoolmate fresh from Australia, was at 
 many a breakfast-table before Tinman heard a word of it, 
 and when he did he had no time to spare for such inci- 
 dents, for he was reading to his widowed sister Martha, in 
 an impressive tone, at a tolerably high pitch of the voice, 
 and with a suppressed excitement that shook away all 
 things external from his mind as violently as it agitated 
 his body. Not the waves without but the engine within it 
 is which gives the shock and tremor to the crazy steamer, 
 forcing it to cut through the waves and scatter them to 
 spray ; and so did Martin Tinman make light of the ex-
 
 84 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 ternal attack of the card of Van Diemen Smith, and 
 its pencilled line: "An old chum, of yours, eh, matey?" 
 Even the communication of Phippun & Co. concerning the 
 cheval-glass, failed to divert him from his particular task. 
 It was indeed a public duty ; and the cheval-glass, though 
 pertaining to it, was a private business. He that has 
 broken the glass, let that man pay for it, he pronounced : 
 ao doubt in simpler fashion, being at his ease in his home, 
 but with the serenity of one uplifted. As to the name 
 Van Diemen Smith, he knew it not, and so he said to 
 himself while accurately recollecting the identity of the old 
 chum who alone of men would have thought of writing : 
 eh, matey? 
 
 Mr. Van Diemen Smith did not present the card in 
 person. "At Crickledon's," he wrote, apparently expecting 
 the bailiff of the town to rush over to him before knowing 
 who he was. 
 
 Tinman was far too busy. Anybody can read plain pen- 
 manship or print, but ask anybody not a Cabinet Minister 
 or a Lord-in- Waiting to read out loud and clear in a Palace, 
 before a Throne. Oh ! the nature of reading is distorted 
 in a trice, and as Tinman said to his worthy sister: "I 
 can do it, but I must lose no time in preparing myself." 
 Again, at a reperusal, he informed her : " I must habitu- 
 ate myself." For this purpose he had put on the suit 
 overnight. 
 
 The articulation of faultless English was his object. 
 His sister Martha sat vice-regally to receive his loyal 
 3ongratulations on the illustrious marriage, and she was 
 pensive, less nervous than her brother from not having to 
 speak continuously, yet somewhat perturbed. She also 
 had her task, and it was to avoid thinking herself the 
 Person addressed by her suppliant brother, while at the 
 same time she took possession of the scholarly training 
 and perfect knowledge of diction and rules of pronuncia- 
 tion which would infallibly be brought to bear on him in 
 the terrible hour of the delivery of the Address. It was 
 no small task moreover to be compelled to listen right 
 through to the end of the Address, before the very gentlest 
 word of criticism was allowed. She did not exactly com- 
 plain of the renewal of the rehearsal : a fatigue can be
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 85 
 
 endured when it is a joy. What vexed her was her failing 
 memory for the points of objection, as in her imagined 
 High Seat she conceived them ; for, in painful truth, the 
 instant her brother had finished she entirely lost her acute- 
 ness of ear, and with that her recollection : so there was 
 nothing to do but to say : "Excellent! Quite unobjection- 
 able, dear Martin, cpiite : " so she said, and emphatically ; 
 but the addition of the word " only " was printed on her 
 contracted brow, and every faculty of Tinman's mind and 
 nature being at strain just then, he asked her testily : 
 "What now? what's the fault now?" She assured him 
 with languor that there was not a fault. " It 's not your 
 way of talking," said he, and what he said was true. 
 His discernment was extraordinary ; generally he noticed 
 nothing. 
 
 Not only were his perceptions quickened by the prepara- 
 tions for the day of great splendour : day of a great furnace 
 to be passed through likewise ! — he was learning English 
 at an astonishing rate into the bargain. A pronouncing 
 Dictionary lay open on his table. To this he flew at a 
 hint of a contrary method, and disputes, verifications and 
 triumphs on one side and the other ensued between brother 
 and sister. In his heart the agitated man believed his 
 sister to be a misleading guide. He dared not say it, he 
 thought it, and previous to his African travel through the 
 Dictionary he had thought his sister infallible on these 
 points. He dared not say it, because he knew no one else 
 before whom he could practice, and as it was confidence 
 that he chiefly wanted — above all things, confidence — 
 and confidence comes of practice, he preferred the going on 
 with his practice to an absolute certainty as to correctness. 
 
 At midday came another card from Mr. Van Diemen 
 Smith bearing the superscription : alias Phil R. 
 
 " Can it be possible," Tinman asked his sister, " that 
 l'hilip Ribstone has had the audacity to return to this 
 country ? I think," he added, " I am right in treating 
 whoever sends me this card as a counterfeit." 
 
 Martha's advice was, that he should take no notice of 
 the card. 
 
 " I am seriously engaged," said Tinman. With a " Now,, 
 then, dear," he resumed his labours.
 
 86 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 Messages had passed between Tinman and Phippun; 
 and in the afternoon Phippun appeared to broach the 
 question of payment for the cheval-glass. He had seen 
 Mr. Van Diemen Smith, had found him very strange, rather 
 impracticable. He was obliged to tell Tinman that he 
 must hold him responsible for the glass ; nor could he send 
 a second until payment was made for the first. It really 
 seemed as if Tinman would be compelled, by the force of 
 circumstances, to go and shake his old friend by the hand. 
 Otherwise one could clearly see the man might be off : he 
 might be off at any minute, leaving a legal contention 
 behind him. On the other hand, supposing he had come 
 to Crikswich for assistance in money ? Friendship is a 
 good thing, and so is hospitality, which is an essentially 
 English thing, and consequently one that it behoves an 
 Englishman to think it his duty to perform, but we do not 
 extend it to paupers. But should a pauper get so close to 
 us as to lay hold of us, vowing he was once our friend, 
 how shake him loose ? Tinman foresaw that it might be 
 a matter of five pounds thrown to the dogs, perhaps ten, 
 counting the glass. He put on his hat, full of melancholy 
 presentiments ; and it was exactly half-past five o'clock of 
 the spring afternoon when he knocked at Crickledon's door. 
 
 Had he looked into Crickledon's shop as he went by, he 
 would have perceived Van Diemen Smith astride a piece 
 of timber, smoking a pipe. Van Diemen saw Tinman. 
 His eyes cocked and watered. It is a disgraceful fact to 
 record of him without periphrasis. In truth, the bearded 
 fellow was almost a woman at heart, and had come from 
 the Antipodes throbbing to slap Martin Tinman on the 
 back, squeeze his hand, run over England with him, treat 
 him, and talk of old times in the presence of a trotting 
 regiment of champagne. That affair of the cheval-glass 
 had temporarily damped his enthusiasm. The absence of 
 a reply to his double transmission of cards had wounded 
 him ; and something in the look of Tinman disgusted his 
 rough taste. But the well-known features recalled the days 
 of youth. Tinman was his one living link to the country 
 he admired as the conqueror of the world, and imagina- 
 tively delighted in as the seat of pleasures, and he could 
 not discard the feeling of some love for Tinman without
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 87 
 
 losing his grasp of the reason why he had longed so fer- 
 vently and travelled so breathlessly to return hither. In 
 the days of their youth, Van Diemen had been Tinman's 
 cordial spirit, at whom he sipped for cheerful visions of 
 life, and a good honest glow of emotion now and then. 
 Whether it was odd or not that the sipper should be obliv- 
 ious, and the cordial spirit heartily reminiscent of those 
 times, we will not stay to inquire. 
 
 Their meeting took place in Crickledon's shop. Tinman 
 was led in by Mrs. Crickledon. His voice made a sound of 
 metal in his throat, and his air was that of a man buttoned 
 up to the palate, as he read from the card, glancing over 
 his eyelids, "A — Mr. Van Diemen Smith, I believe." 
 
 " Phil Ribstone, if you like," said the other, without 
 
 rising. 
 
 " Oh, ah, indeed ! " Tinman temperately coughed. 
 
 " Yes, dear me. So it is. It strikes you as odd ? " 
 
 "The change of name," said Tinman. 
 
 " Not nature, though ! " 
 
 " Ah ! Have you been long in England ? " 
 
 " Time to run to Helmstone, and on here. You 've been 
 lucky in business, I hear." 
 
 " Thank you ; as things go. Do you think of remaining 
 in England ? " 
 
 " I 've got to settle about a glass I broke last night." 
 
 "Ah ! I have heard of it. Yes, I fear there will have to 
 be a settlement." 
 
 " I shall pay half of the damage. You '11 have to stump 
 up your part." 
 
 Van Diemen smiled roguishly. 
 
 " We must discuss that," said Tinman, smiling too, as a 
 patient in bed may smile at a doctor's joke ; for he was, as 
 Crickledon had said of him, no fool on practical points, and 
 Van Diemen's mention of the half-payment reassured him 
 as to his old friend's position in the world, and softly thawed 
 him. " Will you dine with me to-day ? " 
 
 " I don't mind if I do. I 've a girl. You remember 
 little Netty ? She 's walking out on the beach with a 
 young fellow named Fellingham, whose acquaintance we 
 made on the voyage, and has n't left us long to ourselves. 
 Will you have her as well ? And I suppose you must ask
 
 88 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 hiin. He's a newspaper man; been round the world; seen 
 a lot." 
 
 Tinman hesitated. An electrical idea of putting sherry 
 at fifteen shillings per dozen on his table instead of the 
 ceremonial wine at twenty-five shillings, assisted him to 
 say hospitably, " Oh ! ah ! yes ; any friend of yours." 
 
 "And now perhaps you'll shake my fist," said Van 
 Diemen. 
 
 "With pleasure," said Tinman. "It was your change of 
 name, you know, Philip." 
 
 " Look here, Martin. Van Diemen Smith was a convict, 
 and my benefactor. Why the deuce he was so fond of that 
 name, I can't tell you; but his dying wish was for me to 
 take it and carry it on. He left me his fortune, for Van 
 Diemen Smith to enjoy life, as he never did, poor fellow, 
 when he was alive. The money was got honestly, by hard 
 labour at a store. He did evil once, and repented after. 
 But, by Heaven!" — Van Diemen jumped up and thun- 
 dered out of a broad chest — " the man was one of the 
 finest hearts that ever beat. He was ! and I 'm proud of 
 him. When he died, I turned my thoughts home to Old 
 England and you, Martin." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Tinman ; and reminded by Van Diemen's 
 way of speaking, that cordiality was expected of him, he 
 shook his limbs to some briskness, and continued, " Well, - 
 yes, we must all die in our native land if we can. I hope 
 you're comfortable in your lodgings ?" 
 
 " I '11 give you one of Mrs. Crickledon's dinners to try. 
 You're as good as mayor of this town, I hear ?" 
 
 " I am the bailiff of the town," said Mr. Tinman. 
 
 "You're going to Court, I 'm told." 
 
 " The appointment," replied Mr. Tinman, " will soon be 
 made. I have not yet an appointed day." 
 
 On the great highroad of life there is Expectation, and 
 there is Attainment, and also there is Envy. Mr. Tinman's 
 posture stood for Attainment shadowing Expectation, and 
 sunning itself in the glass of Envy, as he spoke of the 
 appointed day. It was involuntary, and naturally evanes- 
 cent, a momentary view of the spirit. 
 
 He unbent, and begged to be excused for the present, 
 that he might go and apprise his sister of guests coming.
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 89 
 
 " All right. I daresay we shall see enough of one an- 
 other," said Van Dienien. And almost before the creak of 
 Tinman's heels was deadened on the road outside the shop, 
 he put the funny question to Crickledon, " Do you box ? " 
 
 "I make 'em," Crickledon replied. 
 
 " Because I should like to have a go in at something, my 
 friend." 
 
 Van Die men stretched and yawned. 
 
 Crickledon recommended the taking of a walk. 
 
 "I think I will," said the other, and turned back 
 abruptly. " How long do you work in the day ? " 
 
 "Generally, all the hours of light," Crickledon replied; 
 "and always up to supper-time." 
 
 " You 're healthy and happy ? " 
 
 "Nothing to complain of." 
 
 " Good appetite ? " 
 
 "Pretty regular." 
 
 " You never take a holiday ? " 
 
 " Except Sundays." 
 
 " You 'd like to be working then ? " 
 
 " I won't say that." 
 
 "But you're glad to be up Monday morning ?" 
 
 "It feels cheerfuller in the shop." 
 
 " And carpentering 's your joy ? " 
 
 " I think I may say so." 
 
 Van Diemen slapped his thigh. " There 's life in Old 
 England yet!" 
 
 Crickledon eyed him as he walked away to the beach to 
 look for his daughter, and conceived that there was a touch 
 of the soldier in him. 
 
 CHAPTEE IV 
 
 Annette Smith's delight in her native England made her 
 see beauty and kindness everywhere around her ; it put a 
 halo about the house on the beach, and thrilled her at Tin- 
 man's table when she heard the thunder of the waves hard 
 by. She fancied it had been a most agreeable dinner to 
 her father and Mr. Herbert Fellingham — especially to the
 
 90 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 latter, who had laughed very much ; and she was astonished 
 to hear them at breakfast both complaining of their even- 
 ing. In answer to which, she exclaimed, " Oh, I think the 
 situation of the house is so romantic ! " 
 
 " The situation of the host is exceedingly so," said Mr. 
 Fellingham; "but I think his wine the most unromantic 
 liquid I have ever tasted." 
 
 "It must be that!" cried Van Diemen, puzzled by novel 
 pains in the head. " Old Martin woke up a little like his 
 old self after dinner." 
 
 " He drank sparingly," said Mr. Fellingham. 
 "I am sure you were satirical last night," Annette said 
 reproachfully. 
 
 "On the contrary, I told him I thought he was in a 
 romantic situation." 
 
 " But I have had a French mademoiselle for my govern- 
 ess and an Oxford gentleman for my tutor ; and I know 
 you accepted French and English from Mr. Tinman and 
 his sister that I should not have approved." 
 
 "Netty," said Van Diemen, "has had the best instruction 
 money could procure ; and if she says you were satirical, you 
 may depend on it you were." 
 
 " Oh, in that case, of course ! " Mr. Fellingham rejoined. 
 "Who could help it?" 
 
 He thought himself warranted in giving the rein to his 
 wicked satirical spirit, and talked lightly of the accidental 
 character of the letter H in Tinman's pronunciation; of 
 how, like somebody else's hat in a high wind, it descended 
 on somebody else's head, and of how his words walked 
 about asking one another who they were and what they 
 were doing, danced together madly, snapping their fingers 
 at signification ; and so forth. He was flippant. 
 
 Annette glanced at her father, and dropped her eyelids. 
 Mr. Fellingham perceived that he was enjoined to be on 
 his guard. 
 
 He went one step farther in his fun ; upon which Van 
 Diemen said, with a frown, " If you please ! " 
 Nothing could withstand that. 
 
 "Hang old Mart Tinman's wine ! " Van Diemen burst out 
 in the dead pause. " My head 's a bullet. I'm in a shock- 
 ing bad temper. I can hardly see. I 'm bilious."
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 91 
 
 Mr. Fellingham counselled his lying down for an hour, 
 and he went grumbling, complaining of Mart Tinman's 
 incredulity about the towering beauty of a place in Aus- 
 tralia called Gippsland. 
 
 Annette confided to Mr. Fellingham, as soon as they were 
 alone, the chivalrous nature of her father in his friendships, 
 and his indisposition to hear a satirical remark upon his 
 old schoolmate, the moment he understood it to be satire. 
 
 Fellingham pleaded : " The man 's a perfect burlesque. 
 He 's as distinctly made to be laughed at as a mask in a 
 pantomime." 
 
 "Papa will not think so," said Annette; "and papa has 
 been told that he is not to be laughed at as a man of 
 business." 
 
 " Do you prize him for that ? " 
 
 "I am no judge. I am too happy to be in England to be 
 a judge of anything." 
 
 " You did not touch his wine ! " 
 
 " You men attach so much importance to wine ! " 
 
 "They do say that powders is a good thing after Mr. 
 Tinman's wine," observed Mrs. Crickledon, who had come 
 into the sitting-room to take away the breakfast things. 
 
 Mr. Fellingham gave a peal of laughter; but Mrs. 
 Crickledon bade him be hushed, for Mr. Van Diemen Smith 
 had gone to lay down his poor aching head on his pillow. 
 Annette ran upstairs to speak to her father about a doctor. 
 
 During her absence, Mr. Fellingham received the popular 
 portrait of Mr. Tinman from the lips of Mrs. Crickledon. 
 He subsequently strolled to the carpenter's shop, and en- 
 deavoured to get a confirmation of it. 
 
 " My wife talks too much," said Crickledon. 
 
 When questioned by a gentleman, however, he was natu- 
 rally bound to answer to the extent of his knowledge. 
 
 " What a funny old country it is !" Mr. Fellingham said 
 to Annette, on their walk to the beach. 
 
 She implored him not to laugh at anything English. 
 
 "I don't, I assure you," said he. "I love the country, 
 too. But when one comes back from abroad, and plunges 
 into their daily life, it 's difficult to retain the real figure of 
 the old country seen from outside, and one has to remember 
 half a dozen great names to right oneself. And English-
 
 92 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 men are so funny! Your father comes here to see his old 
 friend, and begins boasting of the Gippsland he has left 
 behind. Tinman immediately brags of Helvellyn, and they 
 fling mountains at one another till, on their first evening 
 together, there 's earthquake and rupture — they were 
 nearly at fisticuffs at one time." 
 
 " Oh ! surely no," said Annette. " I did not hear them. 
 They were good friends when you came to the drawing- 
 room. Perhaps the wine did affect poor papa, if it was bad 
 wine. I wish men would never drink any. How much 
 happier they would be." 
 
 "But then there would cease to be social meetings in 
 England. What should we do?" 
 
 " I know that is a sneer ; and you were nearly as enthu- 
 siastic as I was on board the vessel," Annette said, sadly. 
 
 "Quite true. I was. But see what quaint creatures Ave 
 have about us ! Tinman practicing in his Court suit before 
 the cheval-glass ! And that good fellow, the carpenter, 
 Crickledon, who has lived with the sea fronting him all his 
 life, and has never been in a boat, and he confesses he has 
 only once gone inland, and has never seen an acorn !" 
 
 "I wish I could see one — of a real English oak," said 
 Annette. 
 
 " And after being in England a few months you will be 
 sighing for the Continent." 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 " You think you will be quite contented here ? " 
 
 " I am sure I shall be. May papa and I never be exiles 
 again ! I did not feel it when I was three years old, going 
 out to Australia ; but it would be like death to me now. 
 Oh ! " Annette shivered, as with the exile's chill. 
 
 " On my honour," said Mr. Fellingham, as softly as he 
 could with the wind in his teeth, " I love the old country 
 ten times more from your love of it." 
 
 "That is not how I want England to be loved," returned 
 Annette. 
 
 " The love is in your hands." 
 
 She seemed indifferent on hearing it. 
 
 He should have seen that the way to woo her was to 
 hamour her prepossession by another passion. He could 
 feel that it ennobled her in the abstract, but a latent spite
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 93 
 
 at Tinman on account of his wine, to which he continued 
 angrily to attribute an unwonted dizziness of the head and 
 slight irascibility, made him urgent in his desire that she 
 should separate herself from Tinman and his sister by the 
 sharp division of derision. 
 
 Anuette declined to laugh at the most risible caricatures 
 of Tinman. In her antagonism she forced her simplicity 
 so far as to say that she did not think him absurd. And 
 supposing Mr. Tinman to have proposed to the titled widow, 
 Lady Ray, as she had heard, and to other ladies young and 
 middle-aged in the neighbourhood, why should he not, if he 
 wished to marry ? If he was economical, surely he had a 
 right to manage his own affairs. Her dread was lest Mr. 
 Tinman and her father should quarrel over the payment for 
 the broken cheval-glass : that she honestly admitted, and 
 Fellingham was so indiscreet as to roar aloud, not so very 
 cordially. 
 
 Annette thought him unkindly satirical ; and his thoughts 
 of her reduced her to the condition of a commonplace girl 
 with expressive eyes. 
 
 She had to return to her father. Mr. Fellingham took a 
 walk on the springy turf along the cliffs ; and " certainly 
 she is a commonplace girl," he began by reflecting, with a 
 side eye at the fact that his meditations were excited by 
 Tinman's poisoning of his bile. "A girl who can't see the 
 absurdity of Tinman must be destitute of common intelli- 
 gence." After a while he sniffed the fine sharp air of 
 mingled earth and sea delightedly, and he strode back to 
 the town late in the afternoon, laughing at himself in scorn 
 of his wretched susceptibility to bilious impressions, and 
 really all but hating Tinman as the cause of his weakness 
 — in the manner of the criminal hating the detective, 
 perhaps. He cast it altogether on Tinman that Annette's 
 complexion of character had become discoloured to his 
 mind; for, in spite of the physical freshness with which 
 he returned to her society, he was incapable of throwing 
 off the idea of her being commonplace; and it was with 
 regret that he acknowledged he had gained from his walk 
 only a higher opinion of himself. 
 
 Her father was the victim of a sick headache, and lay, 
 a groaning man, on his bed, ministered to by Mrs. Crickle'
 
 94 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 don chiefly. Annette had to conduct the business with 
 Mr. Phippun and Mr. Tinman as to payment for the 
 cheval-glass. She was commissioned to offer half the price 
 for the glass on her father's part; more he would not pay. 
 Tinman and Phippun sat with her in Crickledon's cottage, 
 and Mrs. Crickledon brought down two messages from her 
 invalid, each positive, to the effect that he would fight with 
 all the arms of English law rather than yield his point. 
 
 Tinman declared it to be quite out of the question that 
 he should pay a penny. Phippun vowed that from one or 
 the other of them he would have the money. 
 
 Annette naturally was in deep distress, and Pellingham 
 postponed the discussion to the morrow. 
 
 Even after such a taste of Tinman as that, Annette could 
 not be induced to join in deriding him privately. She 
 looked pained by Mr. Fellingham's cruel jests. It was 
 monstrous, Pellingham considered, that he should draw on 
 himself a second reprimand from Van Diemen Smith, 
 while they were consulting in entire agreement upon the 
 case of the cheval-glass. 
 
 "I must tell you this, mister sir," said Van Diemen, "I 
 like you, but I '11 be straightforward and truthful, or I 'm 
 not worthy the name of Englishman; and I do like you, 
 or I should n't have given you leave to come down here after 
 us two. You must respect my friend if you care for my 
 respect. That 's it. There it is. Now you know my 
 conditions." 
 
 "I 'm afraid I can't sign the treaty," said Fellingham. 
 
 "Here 's more," said Van Diemen. "I 'm a chilly man 
 myself if I hear a laugh and think I know the aim of it. 
 I '11 meet what you like except scorn. I can't stand con- 
 tempt. So I feel for another. And now you know." 
 
 " It puts a stopper on the play of fancy, and checks the 
 throwing off of steam," Fellingham remonstrated. "I 
 promise to do my best, but of all the men I 've ever met in 
 my life — Tinman! — the ridiculous! Pray pardon me; 
 but the donkey and his looking-glass! The glass was 
 misty ! He — as particular about his reflection in the glass 
 as a poet with his verses! Advance, retire, bow; and such 
 murder of the Queen's English in the very presence! If 
 I thought he was going to take his wine with him, I 'd 
 have him arrested for high treason."
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 95 
 
 "You 've chosen, and you know what you best like," said 
 Van Diemen, pointing his accents — by which is produced 
 the awkward pause, the pitfall of conversation, and some- 
 times of amity. 
 
 Thus it happened that Mr. Herbert Fellingham journeyed 
 back to London a day earlier than he had intended, and 
 without saying what he meant to say. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A month later, after a night of sharp frost on the verge of 
 the warmer days of spring, Mr. Fellingham entered Criks- 
 wich under a sky of perfect blue that was in brilliant har- 
 mony with the green downs, the white cliffs and sparkling 
 sea, and no doubt it was the beauty before his eyes which 
 persuaded him of his delusion in having taken Annette for 
 a commonplace girl. He had come in a merely curious 
 mood to discover whether she was one or not. Who but a 
 commonplace girl would care to reside in Crikswich, he 
 had asked himself; and now he was full sure that no 
 commonplace girl would ever have had the idea. Exqui- 
 sitely simple, she certainly was; but that may well be a 
 distinction in a young lady whose eyes are expressive. 
 
 The sound of sawing attracted him to Crickledon's shop, 
 and the industrious carpenter soon put him on the tide of 
 affairs. 
 
 Crickledon pointed to the house on the beach as the place 
 where Mr. Van Diemen Smith and his daughter were 
 staying. 
 
 "Dear me! and how does he look ? " said Fellingham. 
 
 "Our town seems to agree with him, sir." 
 
 "Well, I must not say any more, I suppose." Felling- 
 ham checked his tongue. "How have they settled that 
 dispute about the cheval-glass?" 
 
 "Mr. Tinman had to give way." 
 
 "Really!" 
 
 "But," Crickledon stopped work, ■ Mr. Tinman sold him 
 a meadow." 
 
 "I see."
 
 96 THE HOUSE OIS THE BEACfa 
 
 "Mr. Smith has been buying a goodish bit of ground 
 here. They tell me he 's about purchasing Elba. He has 
 bought the Crouch. He and Mr. Tinman are always out 
 together. They 're over at Helmstone now. They 've 
 been to London." 
 
 " Are they likely to be back to-day ? " 
 
 "Certain, I should think. Mr. Tinman has to be in 
 London to-morrow." 
 
 Crickledon looked. He was not the man to look artful, 
 but there was a lighted corner in his look that revived 
 Fellingham's recollections, and the latter burst out: — 
 
 "The Address? I 'd half forgotten it. That 's not over 
 yet ? Has he been practicing much ? " 
 
 "No more glasses ha' been broken." 
 
 " And how is your wife, Crickledon ? " 
 
 "She 's at home, sir, ready for a talk, if you 've a mind 
 to try her." 
 
 Mrs. Crickledon proved to be very ready. " That Tin- 
 man," was her theme. He had taken away her lodgers, 
 and she knew his objects. Mr. Smith repented of leaving 
 her, she knew, though he dared not say it in plain words. 
 She knew Miss Smith was tired to death of constant com- 
 panionship with Mrs. Cavely, Tinman's sister. She gener- 
 ally came once in the day just to escape from Mrs. Cavely, 
 who would not, bless you! step into a cottager's house 
 where she was not allowed to patronize. Fortunately 
 Miss Smith had induced her father to get his own wine 
 from the merchants. 
 
 " A happy resolution, " said Fellingham; "and a saving 
 one." 
 
 He heard further that Mr. Smith would take possession 
 of the Crouch next month, and that Mrs. Cavely hung 
 over Miss Smith like a kite. 
 
 "And that old Tinman, old enough to be her father!" 
 said Mrs. Crickledon. 
 
 She dealt in the flashes which connect ideas. Felling- 
 ham, though a man, and an Englishman, was nervously 
 wakeful enough to see the connection. 
 
 "They '11 have to consult the young lady first, ma'am." 
 
 "If it 's her father's nod she'll bow to it; now mark me," 
 Mrs. Crickledon said, with emphasis. "She's a young
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 97 
 
 lady who thinks for herself, but she takes her start from 
 her father where it 's feeling. And he ; s gone stone-blind 
 over that Tinman." 
 
 While they were speaking, Annette appeared. 
 
 "I saw you," she said to Fellingham, gladly and openly, 
 in the most commonplace manner. 
 
 "Are you going to give me a walk along the beach?" 
 said he. 
 
 She proposed the country behind the town, and that was 
 quite as much to his taste. But it was not a happy walk. 
 He had decided that he admired her, and the notion of 
 having Tinman for a rival annoyed him. He overflowed 
 with ridicule of Tinman, and this was distressing to 
 Annette, because not only did she see that he would not 
 control himself before her father, but he kindled her own 
 satirical spirit in opposition to her father's friendly senti- 
 ments toward his old schoolmate. 
 
 "Mr. Tinman has been extremely hospitable to us," she 
 said, a little coldly. 
 
 " May I ask you, has he consented to receive instruction 
 in deportment and pronunciation ? " 
 
 Annette did not answer. 
 
 "If practice makes perfect, he must be near the mark by 
 this time." 
 
 She continued silent. 
 
 "I dare say, in domestic life, he 's as amiable as he is 
 hospitable, and it must be a daily gratification to see him 
 in his Court suit." 
 
 "I have not seen him in his Court suit." 
 
 "That is his coyness." 
 
 "People talk of those things." 
 
 " The common people scandalize the great, about whom 
 they know nothing, you mean! I am sure that is true, 
 and living in Courts one must be keenly aware of it. But 
 what a splendid sky and sea ! " 
 
 "Is it not?" 
 
 Annette echoed his false rapture with a candour that 
 melted him. 
 
 He was preparing to make up for lost time, when the 
 wild waving of a parasol down a road to the right, coming 
 from the town, caused Annette to stop and say, —
 
 98 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 "I think that must be Mrs. Cavely. We ought to meet 
 her." 
 
 Fellinghani asked why. 
 
 "She is so fond of walks," Annette replied, with a tooth 
 on her lip. 
 
 Fellingham thought she seemed fond of runs. 
 
 Mrs. Cavely joined them, breathless. "My dear! the 
 pace you go at!" she shouted. "I saw you starting. I 
 followed, I ran, I tore along. I feared I never should 
 catch you. And to lose such a morning of English scenery ! 
 Is it not heavenly ? " 
 
 "One can't say more," Fellingham observed, bowing. 
 
 "I am sure I am very glad to see you again, sir. You 
 enjoy Crikswich ? " 
 
 "Once visited, always desired, like Venice, ma'am. 
 May I venture to inquire whether Mr. Tinman has pre- 
 sented his Address ? " 
 
 "The day after to-morrow. The appointment is made 
 with him," said Mrs. Cavely, more officially in manner, 
 "for the day after to-morrow. He is excited, as you may 
 well believe. But Mr. Smith is an immense relief to him 
 — the very distraction he wanted. We have become one 
 family, you know." 
 
 "Indeed, ma'am, I did not know it," said Fellingham. 
 
 The communication imparted such satiric venom to his 
 further remarks, that Annette resolved to break her walk 
 and dismiss him for the day. 
 
 He called at the house on the beach after the dinner- 
 hour, to see Mr. Van Diemen Smith, when there was liter- 
 ally a duel between him and Tinman; for Van Diemen's 
 contribution to the table was champagne, and that had been 
 drunk, but Tinman's sherry remained. Tinman would 
 insist on Fellingham's taking a glass. Fellingham parried 
 him with a sedate gravity of irony that was painfully per- 
 ceptible to Annette. Van Diemen at last backed Tinman's 
 hospitable intent, and, to Fellingham's astonishment, he 
 found that he had been supposed by these two men to be 
 bashfully retreating from a seductive offer all the time that 
 his tricks of fence and transpiercings of one of them had 
 been marvels of skill. 
 
 Tinman pushed the glass into his hand.
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 99 
 
 "You have spilt some," said Fellingham. 
 
 "It won't hurt the carpet," said Tinman. 
 
 "Won't it?" Fellingham gazed at the carpet, as if 
 expecting a name to arise. 
 
 He then related the tale of the magnanimous Alexander 
 drinking off the potion, in scorn of the slanderer, to show 
 faith in his friend. 
 
 " Alexander — Who was that ? " said Tinman, foiled in 
 his historical recollections by the absence of the surname. 
 
 "General Alexander," said Fellingham. "Alexander 
 Philipson, or he declared it was Joveson; and very fond 
 of wine. But his sherry did for him at last." 
 
 "Ah! he drank too much, then," said Tinman. 
 
 "Of his own!" 
 
 Annette admonished the vindictive young gentleman by 
 saying, " How long do you stay in Crikswich, Mr. Felling- 
 ham ? " 
 
 He had grossly misconducted himself. But an adversary 
 at once offensive and helpless provokes brutality. Annette 
 prudently avoided letting her father understand that satire 
 was in the air; and neither he nor Tinman was conscious 
 of it exactly : yet both shrank within themselves under the 
 sensation of a devilish blast blowing. Fellingham accom- 
 panied them and certain jurats to London next day. 
 
 Yes, if you like : when a mayor visits Majesty, it is an 
 important circumstance, and you are at liberty to argue at 
 length that it means more than a desire on his part to show 
 his writing power and his reading power: it is full of 
 comfort tc f lie people, as an exhibition of their majesty 
 likewise ; and it is aj encouragement to men to strive to 
 become mayors, jailiffs, or prime men of any sort; but a 
 stress in the reporting pf it — the making it appear too 
 important a circumstance — will surely breathe the intima- 
 tion to a politically-minded people that satire is in the 
 air, and however dearly they cherish the privilege of 
 knocking at the first door of the kingdom, and walking 
 ceremoniously in to read their writings, they will, if they 
 are not in one of their moods for prostration, laugh. They 
 will laugh at the report. 
 
 All the greater reason is it that we should not indulge 
 them at such periods ; and I say woe 's me for any brother
 
 100 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 of the pen, and one in some esteem, who dressed the report 
 of that presentation of the Address of congratulation by 
 Mr. Bailiff Tinman, of Crikswich! Herbert Fellingham 
 wreaked his personal spite on Tinman. He should have 
 bethought him that it involved another than Tinman — 
 that is to say, an office — which the fitful beast rejoices to 
 paw and play with contemptuously now and then, one may 
 think, as a solace to his pride, and an indemnification for 
 those caprices of abject worship so strongly recalling the 
 days we see through Mr. Darwin's glasses. 
 
 He should not have written the report. It sent a titter 
 over England. He was so unwise as to despatch a copy 
 of the newspaper containing it to Van Diemen Smith. 
 Van Diemen perused it with satisfaction. So did Tinman. 
 Both of these praised the able young writer. But they 
 handed the paper to the Coastguard Lieutenant, who asked 
 Tinman how he liked it; and visitors were beginning to 
 drop in to Crikswich, who made a point of asking for a 
 sight of the chief man ; and then came a comic publication, 
 all in the Republican tone of the time, with Man's Dignity 
 for the standpoint, and the wheezy laughter residing in old 
 puns to back it, in eulogy of the satiric report of the famous 
 Address of congratulation of the Bailiff of Crikswich. 
 
 "Annette," Van Diemen said to his daughter, "you'll 
 not encourage that newspaper fellow to come down here 
 any more. He had his warning." 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 One of the most difficult lessons for spirited young men 
 to learn is, that good jokes are not always good policy. 
 They have to be paid for, like good dinners, though dinner 
 and joke shall seem to have been at somebody else's 
 expense. Young Fellingham was treated rudely by Van 
 Diemen Smith, and with some cold reserve by Annette: 
 in consequence of which he thought her more than ever 
 commonplace. He wrote her a letter of playful remon- 
 strance, followed by one that appealed to her sentiments.
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 101 
 
 But she replied to neither of them. So his visits to Criks- 
 wich came to an end. 
 
 Shall a girl who has no appreciation of fun affect us ? 
 
 Her expressive eyes, and her quaint simplicity, and her 
 enthusiasm for England, haunted Mr. Fellingham; being 
 conjured up by contrast with what he met about him. But 
 shall a girl who would impose upon us the task of hold- 
 ing in our laughter at Tinman be much regretted ? There 
 could be no companionship between us, Fellingham 
 thought. 
 
 On an excursion to the English Lakes he saw the name 
 vf Van Diemen Smith in a visitors' book, and changed his 
 .deas on the subject of companionship. Among moun- 
 tains, or on the sea, or reading history, Annette was one in 
 a thousand. He happened to be at a public ball at Helm- 
 stone in the Winter season, and who but Annette herself 
 jame whirling before him on the arm of an officer! Fel- 
 lingham did not miss his chance of talking to her. She 
 greeted him gaily, and speaking with the excitement of the 
 dance upon her, appeared a stranger to the serious emotions 
 he was willing to cherish. She had been to the Lakes 
 and to Scotland. Next summer she was going to Wales. 
 All her experiences were delicious. She was insatiable, 
 7et satisfied. 
 
 "I wish I had been with you," said Fellingham. 
 
 "I wish you had," said she. 
 
 Mrs. Cavely was her chaperon at the ball, and he was 
 not permitted to enjoy a lengthened conversation sitting 
 with Annette. What was he to think of a girl who could 
 je submissive to Mrs. Cavely, and danced with any number 
 of officers, and had no idea save of running incessantly 
 over England in the pursuit of pleasure ? Her tone of 
 saying, "I wish you had," was that of the most ordinary 
 of wishes, distinctly, if not designedly different from his 
 own melodious depth. 
 
 She granted him one waltz, and he talked of her father. 
 Amid his whimsical vagrancies of feeling he had a posi- 
 tive liking for Van Diemen, and he sagaciously said so. 
 Annette's eyes brightened. "Then why do you never go 
 to see him? He has bought Elba. We move into the 
 Hall after Christmas. We are at the Crouch at present
 
 102 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 Papa will be sure to make you welcome. Do you not know 
 that he never forgets a friend or breaks a friendship ? " 
 
 "I do, and I love him for it," said Fellinghain. 
 
 If he was not greatly mistaken a gentle pressure on the 
 fingers of his left hand rewarded him. 
 
 This determined him. It should here be observed that 
 he was by birth the superior of Annette's parentage, and 
 such is the sentiment of a better blood that the flattery 
 of her warm touch was needed for him to overlook the 
 distinction. 
 
 Two of his visits to Crikswich resulted simply in inter- 
 views and conversations with Mrs. Crickledon. Van 
 Diemen and his daughter were in London with Tinman 
 and Mrs. Cavely, purchasing furniture for Elba Hall. 
 Mrs. Crickledon had no scruple in saying, that Mrs. Cavely 
 meant her brother to inhabit the Hall, though Mr. Smith 
 had outbid him in the purchase. According to her, Tinman 
 and Mr. Smith had their differences; for Mr. Smith was a 
 very outspoken gentleman, and had been known to call 
 Tinman names that no man of spirit would bear if he was 
 not scheming. 
 
 Fellingham returned to London, where he roamed the 
 streets famous for furniture warehouses, in the vain hope 
 of encountering the new owner of Elba. 
 
 Failing in this endeavour, he wrote a love-letter to 
 Annette. 
 
 It was her first. She had liked him. Her manner of 
 thinking she might love him was through the reflection 
 that no one stood in the way. The letter opened a world 
 to her, broader than Great Britain. 
 
 Fellingham begged her, if she thought favourably of him, 
 to prepare her father for the purport of his visit. If 
 otherwise, she was to interdict the visit with as little 
 delay as possible and cut him adrift. 
 
 A decided line of conduct was imperative. Yet you 
 have seen that she was not in love. She was only not 
 unwilling to be in love. And Fellingham was just a trifle 
 warmed. Now mark what events will do to light the fires. 
 
 Van Diemen and Tinman, old chums re-united, and both 
 successful in life, had nevertheless, as Mrs. Crickledon 
 said, their differences. They commenced with an opposi*
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 103 
 
 tion to Tinman's views regarding the expenditure of town 
 moneys. Tinman was ever for devoting them to the 
 patriotic defence of "our shores;" whereas Van Dicmen, 
 pointing in detestation of the town sewerage reeking across 
 the common under the beach, loudly called on him to 
 preserve our lives, by way of commencement. Then Van 
 Diemen precipitately purchased Elba at a high valuation, 
 and Tinman had expected by waiting to buy it at his own 
 valuation, and sell it out of friendly consideration to 
 his friend afterwards, for a friendly consideration. Van 
 Diemen had joined the hunt. Tinman could not mount a 
 horse. They had not quarrelled, but they had snapped 
 about these and other affairs. Van Diemen fancied Tin- 
 man was jealous of his wealth. Tinman shrewdly suspected 
 Van Diemen to be contemptuous of his dignity. He suf- 
 fered a loss in a loan of money; and instead of pitying 
 him, Van Diemen had laughed him to scorn for expecting 
 security for investments at ten per cent. The bitterness of 
 the pinch to Tinman made him frightfully sensitive to 
 strictures on his discretion. In his anguish he told his 
 sister he was ruined, and she advised him to marry before 
 the crash. She was aware that he exaggerated, but she 
 repeated her advice. She went so far as to name the 
 person. This is known, because she was overheard by her 
 housemaid, a gossip of Mrs. Crickledon's, the subsequently 
 famous "Little Jane." 
 
 Now, Annette had shyly intimated to her father the 
 nature of Herbert Fellingham's letter, at the same time 
 professing a perfect readiness to submit to his directions; 
 and her father's perplexity was very great, for Annette 
 had rather fervently dramatized the young man's words at 
 the ball at Helmstone, which had pleasantly tickled him, 
 and, besides, he liked the young man. On the other hand, 
 he did not at all like the prospect of losing his daughter, 
 and he would have desired her to be a lady of title. He 
 hinted at her right to claim a high position. Annette 
 shrank from the prospect, saying, "Never let me marry 
 one who might be ashamed of my father!" 
 
 "I shouldn't stomach that," said Van Diemen, more 
 disposed in favour of the present suitor. 
 
 Annette was now in a tremor. She had a lover; he was
 
 104 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 coming. And if he did not come, did it matter ? Not so 
 very much, except to her pride. And if he did, what was 
 she to say to him ? She felt like an actress who may in a 
 few minutes be called on the stage, without knowing her 
 part. This was painfully unlike love, and the poor girl 
 feared it would be her conscientious duty to dismiss him 
 — most gently, of course; and perhaps, should he be im- 
 petuous and picturesque, relent enough to let him hope, 
 and so bring about a happy postponement of the question. 
 
 Her father had been to a neighbouring town on business 
 with Mr. Tinman. He knocked at her door at midnight; 
 and she, in dread of she knew not what — chiefly that the 
 Hour of the Scene had somehow struck — stepped out to 
 him trembling. He was alone. She thought herself the 
 most childish of mortals in supposing that she could have 
 been summoned at midnight to declare her sentiments, 
 and hardly noticed his gloomy depression. He asked her 
 to give him five minutes; then asked her for a kiss, and 
 told her to go to bed and sleep. But Annette had seen 
 that a great present affliction was on him, and she would 
 not be sent to sleep. She promised to listen patiently, to 
 bear anything, to be brave. "Is it bad news from home ?" 
 she said, speaking of the old home where she had not left 
 her heart, and where his money was invested. 
 
 "It 's this, my dear Netty," said Van Diemen, suffering 
 her to lead him into her sitting-room; "we shall have to 
 leave the shores of England." 
 
 "Then we are ruined." 
 
 "We're not; the rascal can't do that. We might be 
 off to the Continent, or we might go to America; we 've 
 money. But we can't stay here. I '11 not live at any 
 man's mercy." 
 
 "The Continent! America!" exclaimed the enthusiast 
 for England. "Oh, papa, you love living in England so!" 
 
 "Not so much as all that, my dear. You do, that I 
 know. But I don't see how it 's to be managed. Mart 
 Tinman and I have been at tooth and claw to-day and half 
 the night; and he has thrown off the mask, or he 's dashed 
 something from my sight, I don't know which. I knocked 
 him down." 
 
 "Papa!"
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 1CK/ 
 
 "I picked him up." 
 
 "Oh," cried Annette, "has Mr. Tinman been hurt?" 
 
 "He called me a Deserter! " 
 
 Annette shuddered. 
 
 She did not know what this thing was, but the name of 
 it opened a cabinet of horrors, and she touched her father 
 timidly, to assure him of her constant love, and a little to 
 reassure herself of his substantial identity. 
 
 "And I am one," Van Diemen made the confession at 
 the pitch of his voice. "I am a Deserter; I'm liable to 
 be branded on the back. And it 's in Mart Tinman's power 
 to have me marched away to-morrow morning in the sight 
 of Crikswich, and all I can say for myself, as a man and 
 a Briton, is, I did not desert before the enemy. That I 
 swear I never would have done. Death, if death 's in front; 
 but your poor mother was a handsome woman, my child, 
 and there — I could not go on living in barracks and leav- 
 ing her unprotected. I can't tell a young woman the tale. 
 A hundred pounds came on me for a legacy, as plump in 
 my hands out of open heaven, and your poor mother and I 
 saw our chance ; we consulted, and we determined to risk 
 it, and I got on board with her and you, and over the seas 
 we went, first to shipwreck, ultimately to fortune." 
 
 Van Diemen laughed miserably. "They noticed in the 
 hunting-field here I had a soldier-like seat. A soldier-like 
 seat it '11 be, with a brand on it. I sha'n't be asked to take 
 a soldier-like seat at any of their tables again. I may at 
 Mart Tinman's, out of pity, after I 've undergone my 
 punishment. There 's a year still to run out of the twenty 
 of my term of service due. He knows it; he 's been 
 reckoning; he has me. But the worst cat-o'-nine-tails for 
 me is the disgrace. To have myself pointed at, ' There 
 goes the Deserter! He was a private in the Carbineers, 
 and he deserted! ' No one '11 say, ' Ay, but he clung to the 
 idea of his old schoolmate when abroad, and came back- 
 loving him, and trusted him, and was deceived.' " 
 
 Van Diemen produced a spasmodic cough with a blow on 
 his chest. Annette was weeping. 
 
 "There, now go to bed," said he. "I wish you might 
 have known no more than you did of our flight when I got 
 you on board the ship with your poor mother; but you 're
 
 106 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 a young woman now, and you must help me to think of 
 another cut and run, and what baggage we can scrape 
 together in a jiffy, for I won't live here at Mart Tinman's 
 mercy." 
 
 Drying her eyes to weep again, Annette said, when she 
 could speak : " Will nothing quiet him ? I was going to 
 bother you with all sorts of silly questions, poor dear 
 papa; but I see I can understand if I try. Will nothing — 
 Is he so very angry ? Can we not do something to 
 pacify him ? He is fond of money. He — oh, the thought 
 of leaving England! Papa, it will kill you; you set your 
 whole heart on England. We could — I could — could I 
 not, do you not think ? — step between you as a peace- 
 maker. Mr. Tinman is always very courteous to me." 
 
 At these words of Annette's, Van Diemen burst into 
 a short snap of savage laughter. " But that 's far away 
 in the background, Mr. Mart Tinman!" he said. "You 
 stick to your game, I know that; but you '11 find me flown, 
 though I leave a name to stink like your common behind 
 me. And," he added, as a chill reminder, "that name the 
 name of my benefactor. Poor old Van Diemen! He 
 thought it a safe bequest to make." 
 
 "It was; it is! We will stay; we will not be exiled," 
 said Annette. "I will do anything. What was the 
 quarrel about, papa ? " 
 
 " The fact is, my dear, I just wanted to show him — and 
 take down his pride — I'm by my Australian education a 
 shrewder hand than his old country. I bought the house 
 on the beach while he was chaffering, and then I sold it 
 him at a rise when the town was looking up — only to 
 make him see. Then he burst up about something I said 
 of Australia. I will have the common clean. Let him 
 live at the Crouch as my tenant if he finds the house on 
 the beach in danger." 
 
 "Papa, I am sure," Annette repeated — "sure I have 
 influence with Mr. Tinman." 
 
 "There are those lips of yours shutting tight," said her 
 father. "Just listen, and they '11 make a big O. The 
 donkey ! He owns you 've got influence, and he offers he '11 
 be silent if you '11 pledge your word to marry him. I 'm 
 not sure he did n't say, within the year. I told him to
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 107 
 
 iook sharp not to be knocked down again. Mart Tinman 
 for my son-in-law! That 's an upside down of my expec- 
 tations, as good as being at the antipodes without a second 
 voyage back! I let him know you were engaged." 
 
 Annette gazed at her father open-mouthed, as he had 
 predicted; now with a little chilly dimple at one corner of 
 the mouth, now at another — as a breeze curves the leaden 
 winter lake here and there. She could not get his meaning 
 into her sight, and she sought, by looking hard, to under- 
 stand it better; much as when some solitary maiden lady, 
 passing into her bedchamber in the hours of darkness, 
 beholds — tradition telling us she has absolutely beheld — 
 foot of burglar under bed; and lo! she stares, and, cun- 
 ningly to moderate her horror, doubts, yet cannot but be- 
 lieve that there is a leg, and a trunk, and a head, and two 
 terrible arms bearing pistols, to follow. Sick, she palpi- 
 tates; she compresses her trepidation; she coughs, per- 
 chance she sings a bar or two of an aria. Glancing down 
 again, thrice horrible to her is it to discover that there is 
 no foot ! For had it remained, it might have been imag- 
 ined a harmless, empty boot. But the withdrawal has a 
 deadly significance of animal life. . . . 
 
 In like manner our stricken Annette perceived the object; 
 so did she gradually apprehend the fact of her being asked 
 for Tinman's bride, and she could not think it credible. 
 She half scented, she devised her plan of escape from 
 another single mention of it. But on her father's remark- 
 ing, with a shuffle, frightened by her countenance, " Don't 
 listen to what I said, Netty. I won't paint him blacker 
 than he is " — then Annette was sure she had been pro- 
 posed for by Mr. Tinman, and she fancied her father might 
 have revolved it in his mind that there was this means of 
 keeping Tinman silent, silent forever, in his own interests. 
 
 "It was not true, when you told Mr. Tinman I was 
 engaged, papa," she said. 
 
 " No, I know that. Mart Tinman only half — kind of 
 hinted. Come, I say! Where's the unmarried man 
 would n't like to have a girl like you, Netty ! They say 
 he 's been rejected all round a circuit of fifteen miles ; and 
 he 's not bad-looking, neither — he looks fresh and fair. 
 But I thought it as well to let him know he might get me
 
 108 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 at a disadvantage, but he could n't you. Now, don't think 
 about it, my love." 
 
 "Not if it is not necessary, papa," said Annette; and 
 employed her familiar sweetness in persuading him to go 
 to bed, as though he were the afflicted one requiring to 
 be petted. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Round under the cliffs by the sea, facing South, are 
 warm seats in winter. The sun that shines there on a day 
 of frost wraps you as in a mantle. Here it was that Mr. 
 Herbert Fellingham found Annette, a chalk-block for her 
 chair, and a mound of chalk-rubble defending her from the 
 keen-tipped breath of the east, now and then shadowing th« 
 smooth blue water, faintly, like reflections of a flight o* 
 gulls. 
 
 Infants are said to have their ideas, and why not young 
 ladies ? Those who write of their perplexities in descrip- 
 tions comical in their length are unkind to them, by mak- 
 ing them appear the simplest of the creatures of fiction ; 
 and most of us, I am sure, would incline to believe in them 
 if they were only some bit more lightly touched. Those 
 troubled sentiments of our young lady of the comfortable 
 classes are quite worthy of mention. Her poor little eye 
 poring as little fishlike as possible upon the intricate, which 
 she takes for the infinite, has its place in our history, nor 
 should we any of us miss the pathos of it were it not that so 
 large a space is claimed for the exposure. As it is, one 
 has almost to fight a battle to persuade the world that she 
 has downright thoughts and feelings, and really a super- 
 human delicacy is required in presenting her that she may 
 be credible. Even then — so much being accomplished — 
 the thousands accustomed to chapters of her when she is 
 in the situation of Annette will be disappointed by short 
 sentences, just as of old the Continental eater of oysters 
 would have been offended at the offer of an exchange of 
 two live for two dozen dead ones. Annette was in the 
 grand crucial position of English imaginative prose. 1
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE HEACH 109 
 
 recognize it, and that to this the streamlets flow, thence 
 pours the flood. But what was the plain truth ? She had 
 brought herself to think she ought to sacrifice herself to 
 Tinman, and her evasions with Herbert, manifested in 
 tricks of coldness alternating with tones of regret, ended, 
 as they had commenced, in a mysterious half-sullenness. 
 She had hardly a word to say. Let me step in again to 
 observe that she had at the moment no pointed intention of 
 marrying Tinman. To her mind the circumstances com- 
 pelled her to embark on the idea of doing so, and she saw 
 the extremity in an extreme distance, as those who are 
 taking voyages may see death by drowning. Still she had 
 embarked. 
 
 " At all events, I have your word for it that you don't 
 dislike me ? " said Herbert. 
 
 " Oh ! no," she sighed. She liked him as emigrants the 
 land they are leaving. 
 
 "And you have not promised your hand? " 
 
 " No," she said, but sighed in thinking that if she could 
 be induced to promise it, there would not be a word of 
 leaving England. 
 
 " Then, as you are not engaged, and don't hate me, I have 
 a chance ? " he said, in the semi-wailful interrogative of an 
 organ making a mere windy conclusion. 
 
 Ocean sent up a tiny wave at their feet. 
 
 " A day like this in winter is rarer than a summer day," 
 Herbert resumed encouragingly. 
 
 Annette was replying, "People abuse our climate " 
 
 But the thought of having to go out away from this climate 
 in the darkness of exile, with her father to suffer under it 
 worse than herself, overwhelmed her, and fetched the 
 reality of her sorrow in the form of Tinman swimming 
 before her soul with the velocity of a telegraph-pole to the 
 window of the flying train. It was past as soon as seen, 
 but it gave her a desperate sensation of speed. 
 
 She began to feel that this was life in earnest. 
 
 And Herbert should have been more resolute, fierier. 
 She needed a strong will. 
 
 But he was not on the rapids of the masterful passion. 
 For though going at a certain pace, it was by his own im- 
 pulsion; and I am afraid I must, with many apologies,
 
 110 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 compare him to the skater — to the skater on easy, slippery 
 ice, be it understood ; but he could perform gyrations as he 
 went, and he rather sailed along than dashed; he was care- 
 ful of his figuring. Some lovers, right honest lovers, never 
 get beyond this quaint skating-stage ; and some ladies, a 
 right goodly number in a foggy climate, deceived by their 
 occasional runs ahead, take them for vessels on the very 
 torrent of love. Let them take them, and let the race con- 
 tinue. Only we perceive that they are skating ; they are 
 careering over a smooth icy floor, and they can stop at a 
 signal, with just half-a-yard of grating on the heel at the 
 outside. Ice, and not fire nor falling water, has been their 
 medium of progression. 
 
 Whether a man should unveil his own sex is quite an- 
 other question. If we are detected, not solely are we done 
 for, but our love-tales too. However, there is not much 
 ground for anxiety on that head. Each member of the 
 other party is blind on her own account. 
 
 To Annette the figuring of Herbert was graceful, but it 
 did not catch her up and carry her ; it hardly touched her. 
 He spoke well enough to make her sorry for him, and not 
 warmly enough to make her forget her sorrow for herself. 
 
 Herbert could obtain no explanation of the singularity of 
 her conduct from Annette, and he went straight to her 
 father, who was nearly as inexplicable for a time. At last 
 he said — 
 
 " If you are ready to quit the country with us, you may 
 have my consent." 
 
 "Why quit the country?" Herbert asked, in natura 1 
 amazement. 
 
 Van Diemen declined to tell him. 
 
 But seeing the young man look stupefied and wretched 
 he took a turn about the room, and said : " I have n'1 
 robbed," and after more turns, " I have n't murdered." 
 He growled in his menagerie trot within the four walls : 
 " But I 'm in a man's power. Will that satisfy you ? 
 You '11 tell me, because I 'm rich, to snap my fingers. I 
 can't. I 've got feelings. I 'm in his power to hurt me 
 and disgrace me. It 's the disgrace — to my disgrace I say 
 it — I dread most. You 'd be up to my reason if you had 
 ever served in a regiment. I mean, discipline — if ever
 
 THE HOTTSE ON THE BEACH 111 
 
 you'd known discipline — in the police if you like — any- 
 thing — anywhere where there's what we used to call 
 spiny de cor. I mean, at school. And I 'in," said Van 
 Diemen, "a rank idiot double D. dolt, and flat as a pan- 
 cake, and transparent as a pane of glass. You see through 
 me. Anybody could. I can't talk of my botheration with- 
 out betraying myself. What good am I among you sharp 
 fellows in England ? " 
 
 Language of this kind, by virtue of its unintelligibility, 
 set Mr. Herbert Fellingham's acute speculations at work. 
 He was obliged to lean on Van Diemen's assertion, that he 
 had not robbed and had not murdered, to be comforted by 
 the belief that he was not once a notorious bushranger, or 
 a defaulting manager of mines, or any other thing that is 
 naughtily Australian and kangarooly. 
 
 He sat at the dinner-table at Elba, eating like the rest 
 of mankind, and looking like a starved beggarman all the 
 while. 
 
 Annette, in pity of his bewilderment, would have had 
 her father take him into their confidence. She suggested 
 it covertly, and next she spoke of it to him as a prudent 
 measure, seeing that Mr. Fellingham might find out his exact 
 degree of liability. Van Diemen shouted ; he betrayed 
 himself in his weakness as she could not have imagined 
 him. He was ready to go, he said — go on the spot, give 
 up Elba, fly from Old England : what he could not do was 
 to let his countrymen know what he was, and live among 
 them afterwards. He declared that the fact had eternally 
 been present to his mind, devouring him ; and Annette 
 remembered his kindness to the artillerymen posted along 
 the shore westward of Crikswich, though she could recall 
 no sign of remorse. Van Diemen said: "We have to do 
 with Martin Tinman ; that 's one who has a hold on me, 
 and one 's enough. Leak out my secret to a second fellow, 
 you double my risks." He would not be taught to see 
 how the second might counteract the first. The singularity 
 of the action of his character on her position was, that 
 though she knew not a soul to whom she could unburden 
 her wretchedness, and stood far more isolated than in her 
 Australian home, fever and chill struck her blood in con- 
 templation of the necessity of quitting England.
 
 112 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 Deep, then, was her gratitude to dear good Mrs. Cavely 
 for stepping in to mediate between her father and Mr. 
 Tinman. And well might she be amazed to hear the 
 origin of their recent dispute. 
 
 " It was/' Mrs. Cavely said, " that Gippsland ! '' 
 
 Annette cried : « What ? " 
 
 " That Gippsland of yours, my dear. Your father will 
 praise Gippsland whenever my Martin asks him to admire 
 the beauties of our neighbourhood. Many a time has Martin 
 come home to me complaining of it. We have no doubt on 
 earth that Gippsland is a very fine place ; but my brother 
 has his ideas of dignity, you must know, and I only wish 
 he had been more used to contradiction, you may believe 
 me. He is a lamb by nature. And, as he says, ' Why un- 
 derrate one's own country ? ' He cannot bear to hear 
 boasting. Well ! I put it to you, dear Annette, is he so 
 unimportant a person? He asks to be respected, and 
 especially by his dearest friend. From that to blows ! 
 It 's the way with men. They begin about trifles, they 
 drink, they quarrel, and one does what he is sorry for, and 
 one says more than he means. All my Martin desires is 
 to shake your dear father's hand, forgive and forget. To 
 win your esteem, darling Annette, he would humble him- 
 self in the dust. Will you not help me to bring these two 
 dear old friends together once more ? It is unreasonable 
 of your dear papa to go on boasting of Gippsland if he is 
 so fond of England, now is it not ? My brother is the 
 offended party in the eye of the law. That is quite certain. 
 Do you suppose he dreams of taking advantage of it ? He 
 is waiting at home to be told he may call on your father. 
 Bank, dignity, wounded feelings, is nothing to him in 
 comparison with friendship." 
 
 Annette thought of the blow which had felled him, and 
 spoke the truth of her heart in saying, " He is very 
 generous." 
 
 " You understand him." Mrs. Cavely pressed her hand. 
 "We will both go to your dear father. He may," she 
 added, not without a gleam of feminine archness, "praise 
 Gippsland above the Himalayas to me. What my Martin 
 so much objected to was, the speaking of Gippsland at all 
 when there was mention of our Lake scenery. As for me,
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 113 
 
 I know how men love to boast of things nobody else has 
 seen." 
 
 The two ladies went in company to Van Diemen, who 
 allowed himself to be melted. He was reserved neverthe- 
 less. His reception of Mr. Tinman displeased his daughter. 
 Annette attached the blackest importance to a blow of the 
 fist. In her mind it blazed fiendlike, and the man who 
 forgave it rose a step or two on the sublime. Especially 
 did he do so considering that he had it in his power to 
 dismiss her father and herself from bright beaming Eng- 
 land before she had looked on all the cathedrals and 
 churches, the sea-shores and spots named in printed poetry, 
 to say nothing of the nobility. 
 
 "Papa, you were not so kind to Mr. Tinman as I could 
 have hoped," said Annette. 
 
 " Mart Tinman has me at his mercy, and he '11 make me 
 know it," her father returned gloomily. " He may let me 
 off with the Commander-in-chief. He '11 blast my reputa- 
 tion some day, though. I shall be hanging my head in 
 society, through him." 
 
 Van Diemen imitated the disconsolate appearance of a 
 gallows body, in one of those rapid flashes of spontaneous 
 veri-similitude which spring of an inborn horror painting 
 itself on the outside. 
 
 " A Deserter ! " he moaned. 
 
 He succeeded in impressing the terrible nature of the 
 Bti'gma upon Annette's imagination. 
 
 The guest at Elba was busy in adding up the sum of his 
 own impressions, and dividing it by this and that new cir- 
 cumstance; for he was totally in the dark. He was at- 
 tracted by the mysterious interview of Mrs. Cavely and 
 Annette. Tinman's calling and departing set him upon 
 new calculations. Annette grew cold and visibly distressed 
 by her consciousness of it. 
 
 She endeavoured to account for this variation of mood. 
 " We have been invited to dine at the house on the beach 
 to-morrow. I would not have accepted, but papa ... we 
 seemed to think it a duty. Of course the invitation ex- 
 tends to you. We fancy you do nob greatly enjoy dining 
 there. The table will be laid for you here, if you prefer." 
 
 Herbert preferred to try the skill of Mrs. Crickledon.
 
 114 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 Now, for positive penetration the head prepossessed by 
 a suspicion is unmatched ; for where there is no daylight, 
 this one at least goes about with a lantern. Herbert begged 
 Mrs. Crickledon to cook a dinner for him, and then to give 
 the right colour to his absence from the table of Mr. Tin- 
 man, he started for a winter day's walk over the downs — 
 as sharpening a business as any young fellow, blunt or 
 keen, may undertake; excellent for men of the pen, 
 whether they be creative, and produce, or slaughtering, 
 and review; good, then, for the silly sheep of letters and 
 the butchers. He sat down to Mrs. Crickledon's table at 
 half-past six. She was, as she had previously informed 
 him, a forty-pound-a-year cook at the period of her court- 
 ing by Crickledon. That zealous and devoted husband had 
 made his first excursion inland to drop over the downs to 
 the great house, and fetch her away as his bride, on the 
 death of her master, Sir Alfred Pooney, who never would 
 have parted with her in life ; and every day of that man's 
 life he dirtied thirteen plates at dinner, nor more, nor less, 
 but exactly that number, as if he believed there was luck 
 in it. And as Crickledon said, it was odd. But it was 
 always a pleasure to cook for him. Mrs. Crickledon could 
 not abide cooking for a mean eater. And when Crickledon 
 said he had never seen an acorn, he might have seen one 
 had he looked about him in the great park, under the oaks, 
 on the day when he came to be married. 
 
 " Then it 's a standing compliment to you, Mrs. Crickle- 
 don, that he did not," said Herbert. 
 
 He remarked with the sententiousness of enforced phi- 
 losophy, that no wine was better than bad wine. 
 
 Mrs. Crickledon spoke of a bottle left by her summer 
 lodgers, who had indeed left two, calling the wine invalid's 
 wine ; and she and her husband had opened one on the 
 anniversary of their marriage day in October. It had the 
 taste of doctor's shop, they both agreed ; and as no friend 
 of theirs could be tempted beyond a sip, they were advised, 
 because it was called a tonic, to mix it with the pig-wash, 
 so that it should not be entirely lost, but benefit the consti- 
 tution of the pig. Herbert sipped at the remaining bottle, 
 and finding himself in the superior society of an old Man« 
 zanilla, refilled his glass.
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 115 
 
 "Nothing I knows of proves the difference between 
 gentlefolks and poor persons as tastes in wine," said Mrs. 
 Crickledon, admiring him as she brought in a dish of cut- 
 lets, with Sir Alfred Pooney's favourite sauce Soubise, 
 wherein rightly onion should be delicate as the idea of love 
 in maidens' thoughts, albeit constituting the element of 
 flavour. Something of such a dictum Sir Alfred Pooney 
 had imparted to his cook, and she repeated it with the 
 fresh elegance of such sweet sayings when transfused 
 through the native mind : 
 
 " He said, ' Like as it was what you would call a young 
 gal's blush at a kiss round a corner.' " 
 
 The epicurean baronet had the habit of talking in that 
 way. 
 
 Herbert drank to his memory. He was well-filled; he 
 had no work to do, and he was exuberant in spirits, as 
 Mrs. Crickledon knew her countrymen should and would 
 be under those conditions. And suddenly he drew his hand 
 across a forehead so wrinkled and dark, that Mrs. Crickle- 
 don exclaimed, " Heart or stomach ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," said he. " I 'm sound enough in both, I hope." 
 
 "That old Tinman's up to one of his games," she 
 observed. 
 
 " Do you think so ? " 
 
 " He 's circumventing Miss Annette Smith." 
 
 "Pooh! Crickledon. A man of his age can't be seri- 
 ously thinking of proposing for a young lady." 
 
 " He 's a well-kept man. He 's never racketed. He 
 had n't the rackets in him. And she may n't care for him. 
 But we hear things drop." 
 
 " What things have you heard drop, Crickledon ? In a 
 profound silence you may hear pins ; in a hubbub you may 
 hear cannon-balls. But I never believe in eavesdropping 
 gossip." 
 
 " He was heard to say to Mr. Smith," Crickledon pur- 
 sued, and she lowered her voice, "he was heard to say, it 
 was when they were quarrelling over that chewal, and they 
 went at one another pretty hard before Mr. Smith beat him 
 and he sold Mr. Smith that meadow ; he was heard to say, 
 there was worse than transportation for Mr. Smith if he 
 but lifted his finger. They Tinmans have awful tempers.
 
 116 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 His old mother died malignant, though she was a saving 
 woman, and never owed a penny to a Christian a hour 
 longer than it took to pay the money. And old Tinman's 
 just such another." 
 
 "Transportation!" Herbert ejaculated, "that's sheer 
 nonsense, Crickledon. I 'm sure your husband would tell 
 you so." 
 
 "It was my husband brought me the words," Mrs. 
 Crickledon rejoined with some triumph. " He did tell me, 
 I own, to keep it shut : but my speaking to you, a friend of 
 Mr. Smith's, won't do no harm. He heard them under the 
 battery, over that chewal glass: 'And you shall pay,' says 
 Mr. Smith, and ' I sha'n't,' says old Tinman. Mr. Smith 
 said he would have it if he had to squeeze a deathbed con- 
 fession from a sinner. Then old Tinman fires out, 'You!' 
 he says, ' you ' and he stammered. ' Mr. Smith,' my hus- 
 band said — and you never saw a man so shocked as my 
 husband at being obliged to hear them at one another — 
 'Mr. Smith used the word damn.' You may laugh, sir." 
 
 ; ' You say it so capitally, Crickledon." 
 
 " And then old Tinman said, And a D. to you ; and if I 
 lift my finger, it 's Big D. on your back.' " 
 
 " And what did Mr. Smith say, then ? " 
 
 "He said, like a man shot, my husband says he said, 
 'My God!'" 
 
 Herbert Fellingham jumped away from the table. 
 
 " You tell me, Crickledon, your husband actually heard 
 that — just those words ? — the tones ? " 
 
 "My husband says he heard him say, 'My God!' just 
 like a poor man shot or stabbed. You may speak to 
 Crickledon, if you speaks to him alone, sir. I say you 
 ought to know. For I 've noticed Mr. Smith since that day 
 has never looked to me the same easy-minded happy 
 gpntlftinan he was when we first knew him. He would have 
 had me go to cook for him at Elba, but Crickledon thought 
 I'd better be independent, and Mr. Smith said to me, 
 * Perhaps you 're right, Crickledon, for who knows how long 
 I may be among you ? ' " 
 
 Herbert took the solace of tobacco in Crickledon's shop. 
 Thence, with the story confirmed to him, he sauntered 
 «*Quud the house on the beach.
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 117 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 The moon was over sea. Coasting vessels that had run 
 into the bay for shelter from the North wind lay with their 
 shadows thrown shoreward on the cold smooth water, 
 almost to the verge of the beach, where there was neither 
 breath nor sound of wind, only the lisp at the pebbles. 
 
 Mrs. Crickledon's dinner and the state of his heart made 
 young Fellingham indifferent to a wintry atmosphere. 
 It sufficed him that the night was fair. He stretched him- 
 self on the shingle, thinking of the Manzanilla, and 
 Annette, and the fine flavour given to tobacco by a dry still 
 air in moonlight — thinking of his work, too, in the back- 
 ground, as far as mental lassitude would allow of it. The 
 idea of taking Annette to see his first play at the theatre — 
 when it should be performed — was very soothing. The 
 beach rather looked like a stage, and the sea like a ghostly 
 audience, with, if you will, the broadside bulks of black 
 sailing craft at anchor for representatives of the newspaper 
 press. Annette was a nice girl; if a little commonplace 
 and low-born, yet sweet. What a subject he could make of 
 her father ! " The Deserter " offered a new complication. 
 Fellingham rapidly sketched it in fancy — Van Diemen, as 
 a Member of the Parliament of Great Britain, led away 
 from the House of Commons to be branded on the back! 
 What a magnificent fall ! We have so few intensely 
 dramatic positions in English real life that the meditative 
 author grew enamoured of this one, and laughed out a royal 
 " Ha ! " like a monarch reviewing his well-appointed 
 soldiery. 
 
 " There you are," said Van Diemen's voice ; " I smelt your 
 pipe. You're a rum fellow, to be lying out on the beach on 
 a cold night. Lord ! I don't like you the worse for it. I 
 was for the romance of the moon in my young days." 
 
 " Where is Annette ? " said Fellingham, jumping to his 
 feet. 
 
 " My daughter ? She 's taking leave of her intended." 
 
 " What 's that ? " Fellingham gasped. " Good heavens, 
 Mr. Smith, what do you mean ? "
 
 118 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 "Pick up your pipe, my lad. Girls choose as they 
 please, I suppose." 
 
 "Her intended, did you say, sir? What can that 
 mean ? " 
 
 " My dear good young fellow, don't make a fuss. We 're 
 all going to stay here, and very glad to see you from time 
 to time. The fact is, I ought n't to have quarrelled with 
 Mart Tinman as I 've done ; I 'm too peppery by nature. 
 The fact is, I struck him, and he forgave it. I couldn't 
 have done that myself. And I believe I 'm in for a head- 
 ache to-morrow ; upon my soul, I do. Mart Tinman would 
 champagne us ; but, poor old boy, I struck him, and I 
 could n't make amends — did n't see my way ; and we 
 joined hands over the glass — to the deuce with the glass ! 
 
 — and the end of it is, Netty — she did n't propose it, but 
 as I 'in in his — I say, as I had struck him, she — it was 
 rather solemn, if you had seen us — she burst into tears, 
 and there was Mrs. Cavely, and old Mart, and me as big a 
 fool — if I 'm not a villain ! " 
 
 Fellingham perceived a more than common effect of Tin- 
 man's wine. He touched Van Diemen on the shoulder. 
 "May I beg to hear exactly what has happened?" 
 
 "Upon my soul, we're all going to live comfortably in 
 Old England, and no more quarrelling and decamping," 
 was the stupid rejoinder. " Except that I did n't exactly 
 
 — I think you said ' exactly ' ? — I did n't bargain for old 
 Mart as my — but he 's a sound man ; Mart 's my junior ; 
 he's rich. He's eco . . . he's eco . . . you know — my 
 Lord ! where 's my brains ? — but he 's upright — 'nomieal ! " 
 
 " An economical man," said Fellingham, with sedate 
 impatience. 
 
 " My dear sir, I 'm heartily obliged to you for your assist- 
 ance," returned Van Diemen. "Here she is." 
 
 Annette had come out of the gate in the flint wall. She 
 started slightly on seeing Herbert, whom she had taken for 
 a coastguard, she said. He bowed. He kept his head 
 bent, peering at her intrusively. 
 
 " It 's the air on champagne," Van Diemen said, calling 
 on his lungs to clear themselves and right him. " I was n't 
 a bit queer in the house." 
 
 "The air on Tinman's champagne!" said Fellingham.
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 119 
 
 " It must be like the contact of two hostile chemical 
 elements." 
 
 Annette walked faster. 
 
 They descended from the shingle to the scant-bladed 
 grass-sweep running round the salted town-refuse on to- 
 ward Elba. Van Diemen sniffed, ejaculating, " I '11 be best 
 man with Mart Tinman about this business! You'll stop 
 with us, Mr. — what 's your Christian name ? Stop with us 
 as long as you like. Old friends for me ! The joke of it 
 is that Nelson was my man, and yet I went and enlisted in 
 the cavalry. If you talk of chemical substances, old Mart 
 Tinman was a sneak who never cared a dump for his coun- 
 try ; and I 'm not to speak a single sybbarel about that . . . 
 over there . . . Australia . . . Gippsland! So down he 
 went, clean over. Very sorry for what we have done. 
 Contrite. Penitent." 
 
 " Now we feel the wind a little," said Annette. 
 
 Fellingham murmured, " Allow me ; your shawl is flying 
 loose." 
 
 He laid his hands on her arms, and, pressing her in a 
 tremble, said, " One sign ! It 's not true ? A word ! Do 
 you hate me ? " 
 
 " Thank you very much, but I am not cold," she replied, 
 and linked herself to her father. 
 
 Van Diemen immediately shouted, "For we are jolly 
 boys ! for we are jolly boys ! It 's the air on the cham- 
 pagne. And hang me," said he, as they entered the ground? 
 of Elba, " if I don't walk over my property." 
 
 Annette interposed ; she stood like a reed in his way. 
 
 " No ! my Lord ! I '11 see what I sold you for ! " he 
 cried. " I 'm an owner of the soil of Old England, and care 
 no more for the title of squire than Napoleon Bonaparty. 
 But I '11 tell you what, Mr. Hubbard : your mother was 
 never so astonished at her dog as old Van Diemen would 
 be to hear himself called squire in Old England. And a 
 convict he was, for he did wrong once, but he worked his 
 redemption. And the smell of my own property makes me 
 feel my legs again. And I '11 tell you what, Mr. Hubbard, 
 as Netty calls you when she speaks of you in private : 
 Mart Tinman's ideas of wine are pretty much like his ideas 
 of healthy smells, and when I 'm bailiff of Crikswich, mind,
 
 120 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 he '11 find two to one against him in our town-o»tuncil. 1 
 love my country, but hang me if I don't purify it , fl 
 
 Saying this, with the excitement of a high resi We upon 
 him, Van Diemen bored through a shrubbery-biake, and 
 Fellinghani said to Annette : " Have I lost you ? " 
 
 " I belong to my father," said she, contracting and dis- 
 engaging her feminine garments to step after him in the 
 cold silver-spotted dusk of the winter woods. 
 
 Van Diemen came out on a fish-pond. 
 
 " Here you are, young ones ! " he said to the pair. " This 
 way, Fellowman. I 'm clearer now, and it 's my belief I 've 
 been talking nonsense. I 'm puffed up with money, and 
 have n't the heart I once had. I say, Fellowman, Fellow- 
 bird, Hubbard — what 's your right name ? — fancy an old 
 carp fished out of that pond and flung into the sea. That 's 
 exile ! And if the girl don't mind, what does it matter ? " 
 
 " Mr. Herbert Fellingham, I think, would like to go to 
 bed, papa," said Annette. 
 
 "Miss Smith must be getting cold," Fellingham hinted. 
 
 " Bounce away indoors," replied Van Diemen, and he led 
 them like a bull. 
 
 Annette was disinclined to leave them together in the 
 smoking-room, and under the pretext of wishing to see her 
 father to bed she remained with them, though there was a 
 novel directness and heat of tone in Herbert that alarmed 
 her, and with reason. He divined in hideous outlines what 
 had happened. He was no longer figuring on easy ice, but 
 desperate at the prospect of a loss to himself, and a fate 
 for Annette, that tossed him from repulsion to incredulity, 
 and so back. 
 
 Van Diemen begged him to light his pipe. 
 
 " I 'm off to London to-morrow," said Fellingham. " I 
 don't want to go, for very particular reasons ; I may be of 
 more use there. I have a cousin who 's a General officer 
 in the army, and if I have your permission — you see, 
 anything 's better, as it seems to me, than that you should 
 depend for peace and comfort on one man's tongue not 
 wagging, especially when he is not the best of tempers — 
 if I have your permission — without mentioning names, of 
 course — I '11 consult him." 
 
 There was a dead silence.
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE UEACH 121 
 
 " You know you may trust me, sir. I love your daughter 
 with all my heart. Your honour and your interests are 
 mine." 
 
 Van Diemen struggled for composure. 
 
 " Netty, what have you been at ? " he said. 
 
 " It is untrue, papa ! " she answered the unworded 
 accusation. 
 
 " Annette has told me nothing, sir. I have heard it. 
 You must brace your mind to the fact that it is known. 
 What is known to Mr. Tinman is pretty sure to be known 
 generally at the next disagreement." 
 
 " That scoundrel Mart ! " Van Diemen muttered. 
 
 " I am positive Mr. Tinman did not speak of you, papa," 
 said Annette, and turned her eyes from the half-paralyzed 
 figure of her father on Herbert to put him to proof. 
 
 " No, but he made himself heard when it was being dis- 
 cussed. At any rate, it's known; and the thing to do is 
 to meet it." 
 
 " I 'm off. I '11 not stop a day. I 'd rather live on the 
 Continent," said Van Diemen, shaking himself, as to pre- 
 pare for the step into that desert. 
 
 "Mr. Tinman has been most generous!" Annette pro- 
 tested tearfully. 
 
 " I won't say no : I think you are deceived and lend 
 him your own generosity," said Herbert. "Can you sup- 
 pose it generous, that even in the extremest case, he should 
 speak of the matter to your father, and talk of denouncing 
 him ? He did it." 
 
 " He was provoked." 
 
 " A gentleman is distinguished by his not allowing him- 
 self to be provoked." 
 
 " I am engaged to him, and I cannot hear it said that he 
 is not a gentleman." 
 
 The first part of her sentence Annette uttered bravely; 
 at the conclusion she broke down. She wished Herbert 
 to be aware of the truth, that he might stay his attacks 
 on Mr. Tinman ; and she believed he had only been guess- 
 ing the circumstances in which her father was placed; but 
 the comparison between her two suitors forced itself on 
 her now, when the younger one spoke in a manner so self- 
 contained, brief, and full of feeling.
 
 122 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 She had to leave the room weeping. 
 
 " Has your daughter engaged herself, sir ? " said Herbert. 
 
 " Talk to me to-morrow ; don't give us up if she has — 
 we were trapped, it's my opinion," said Van Diemen. 
 " There 's the devil in that wine of Mart Tinman's. 
 I feel it still, and in the morning it'll be worse. What 
 can she see in him ? I must quit the country ; carry 
 her off. How he did it, I don't know. It was that 
 woman, the widow, the fellow's sister. She talked till 
 she piped her eye — talked about our lasting union. On 
 my soul, I believe I egged Netty on ! I was in a molli- 
 fied way with that wine ; all of a sudden the woman joins 
 their hands ! And I — a man of spirit will despise me ! 
 — what I thought of was, ' now my secret 's safe ! ' You 've 
 sobered me, young sir. I see myself, if that 's being sober. 
 I don't ask your opinion of me ; I am a deserter, false to 
 my colours, a breaker of his oath. Only mark this : I was 
 married, and a common trooper, married to a handsome 
 young woman, true as steel ; but she was handsome, and 
 we were starvation poor, and she had to endure persecution 
 from an officer day by day. Bear that situation in your 
 mind. Providence dropped me a hundred pounds out of 
 the sky. Properly speaking, it popped up out of the earth, 
 for I reaped it, you may say, from a relative's grave. 
 Rich and poor's all right, if I'm rich and you're poor; 
 and you may be happy though you 're poor ; but where 
 there are many poor young women, lots of rich men are 
 a terrible temptation to them. That 's my dear good wife 
 speaking, and had she been spared to me I never should 
 have come back to Old England, and heart's delight and 
 heartache I should not have known. She was my back- 
 bone, she was my breast-comforter too. Why did she 
 stick to me ? Because I had faith in her when appearances 
 were against her. But she never forgave this country the 
 hurt to her woman's pride. You '11 have noticed a squarish 
 jaw in Netty. That 's her mother. And I shall have to 
 encounter it, supposing I find Mart Tinman has been play- 
 ing me false. I 'm blown on somehow. I '11 think of what 
 course I '11 take 'twixt now and morning. Good night, 
 young gentleman." 
 
 " Good night, sir," said Herbert, adding, " I will get
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 123 
 
 information from the Horse Guards ; as for the people 
 knowing it about here, you 're not living much in 
 society " 
 
 "It's not other people's feelings, it's my own," Van 
 Diemen silenced him. "I feel it, if it's in the wind; 
 ever since Mart Tinman spoke the thing out, I 've felt on 
 my skin cold and hot." 
 
 He flourished his lighted candle and went to bed, mani- 
 festly solaced by the idea that he was the victim of his 
 own feelings. 
 
 Herbert could not sleep. Annette's monstrous choice 
 of Tinman in preference to himself constantly assailed and 
 shook his understanding. There was the " squarish jaw " 
 mentioned by her father to think of. It filled him with a 
 vague apprehension, but he was unable to imagine that a 
 young girl, and an English girl, and an enthusiastic young 
 English girl, could be devoid of sentiment ; and presuming 
 her to have it, as one must, there was no fear that she 
 would persist in her loathsome choice when she knew her 
 father was against it. 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Annette did not shun him next morning. She did not 
 shun the subject, either. But she had been exact in 
 arranging that she should not be more than a few minutes 
 downstairs before her father. Herbert found, that com- 
 pared with her, gi Is of sentiment are commonplace indeed. 
 She had conceived an insane idea of nobility in Tinman 
 that blinded her to his face, figure, and chai-acter — his 
 manners, likewise. He had forgiven a blow ! 
 
 Silly as the delusion might be, it clothed her in whimsical 
 attractiveness. 
 
 It was a beauty in her to dwell so firmly upon moral 
 quality. Overthrown and stunned as he was, and reduced 
 to helplessness by her brief and positive replies, Herbert 
 was obliged to admire the singular young lady, who spoke, 
 without much shyness, of her incongruous, destined mate
 
 124 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 though his admiration had an edge cutting like irony. 
 While in the turn for candour, she ought to have told him, 
 that previous to her decision she had weighed the case of 
 the diverse claims of himself and Tinman, and resolved 
 them according to her predilection for the peaceful resi- 
 dence of her father and herself in England. This she had 
 done a little regretfully, because of the natural sympathy 
 of the young girl for the younger man. But the younger 
 man had seemed to her seriously -straightforward mind too 
 light and airy in his wooing, like one of her waltzing 
 officers — very well so long as she stepped the measure 
 with him, and not forcible enough to take her off her feet. 
 He had changed, and now that he had become persuasive, 
 she feared he would disturb the serenity with which she 
 desired and strove to contemplate her decision. Tinman's 
 magnanimity was present in her imagination to sustaip 
 her, though she was aware that Mrs. Cavely had surprised 
 her will, and caused it to surrender unconsulted by he* 
 wiser intelligence. 
 
 " I cannot listen to you," she said to Herbert, after 
 listening longer than was prudent. " If what you say of 
 papa is true, I do not think he will remain in Crikswich, 
 or even in England. But I am sure the old friend we used 
 to speak of so much in Australia has not wilfully betrayed 
 him." 
 
 Herbert would have had to say, " Look on us two ! " to 
 proceed in his baffled wooing ; and the very ludicrousness 
 of the contrast led him to see the folly and shame of 
 proposing it. 
 
 Van Diemen came down to breakfast looking haggard 
 and restless. " I have n't had my morning's walk — I can't 
 go out to be hooted," he said, calling to his daughter for 
 tea, and strong tea ; and explaining to Herbert that he 
 knew it to be bad for the nerves, but it was an antidote to 
 bad champagne. 
 
 Mr. Herbert Fellingham had previously received an invi- 
 tation on behalf of a sister of his to Crikswich. A dull 
 sense of genuine sagacity inspired him to remind Annette 
 of it. She wrote prettily to Miss Mary Fellingham, and 
 Herbert had some faint joy in carrying away the letter of 
 her handwriting.
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 125 
 
 "Fetch her soon, for we sha'n't be here long," Van 
 Dienien said to him at parting. He expressed a certain 
 dread of his next meeting with Mart Tinman. 
 
 Herbert speedily brought Mary Fellingham to Elba, and 
 left her there. The situation was apparently unaltered. 
 Van Diemen looked worn, like a man who has been feeding 
 mainly on his reflections, which was manifest in his few 
 melancholy bits of speech. He said to Herbert: "How 
 you feel a thing when you are found out ! " and, " It 
 does n't do for a man with a heart to do wrong ! " He 
 designated the two principal roads by which poor sinners 
 come to a conscience. His own would have slumbered but 
 for discovery ; and, as he remarked, if it had not been for 
 his heart leading him to Tinman, he would not have fallen 
 into that man's power. 
 
 The arrival of a young lady of fashionable appearance 
 at Elba was matter of cogitation to Mrs. Cavely. She was 
 disposed to suspect that it meant something, and Van 
 Diemen's behaviour to her brother would of itself have 
 fortified any suspicion. He did not call at the house on 
 the beach, he did not invite Martin to dinner, he was rarely 
 seen, and when he appeared at the Town Council he once or 
 twice violently opposed his friend Martin, who came home 
 ruffled, deeply offended in his interests and his dignity. 
 
 " Have you noticed any difference in Annette's treatment 
 of you, dear ? '' Mrs. Cavely inquired. 
 
 " No," said Tinman ; " none. She shakes hands. She 
 asks after my health. She offers me my cup of tea." 
 
 "I have seen all that. But does she avoid privacy 
 with you ? " 
 
 "Dear me, no! Why should she? I hope, Martha, I 
 am a man who may be confided in by any young lady in 
 England." 
 
 " I am sure you may, dear Martin." 
 
 " She has an objection to name the . . . the day," said 
 Martin. " I have informed her that I have an objection to 
 long engagements. I don't like her new companion. She 
 says she has been presented at Court. I greatly doubt it." 
 
 " It 's to give herself a style, you may depend. I don't 
 believe her ! " exclaimed Mrs. Cavely, with sharp personal 
 asperity.
 
 126 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 Brother and sister examined together the Court Guide 
 they had purchased on the occasion at once of their largest 
 outlay and most thrilling gratification ; in it they certainly 
 found the name of General Fellingham. "* But he can't be 
 related to a newspaper-writer," said Mrs. Cavely. 
 
 To which her brother rejoined, " Unless the young man 
 turned scamp. I hate unproductive professions." 
 
 "I hate him, Martin." Mrs. Cavely laughed in scorn 
 " I should say, I pity him. It 's as clear to me as the sub 
 at noonday, he wanted Annette. That 's why I was in 
 a hurry. How I dreaded he would come that evening to 
 our dinner ! When I saw him absent, I could have cried 
 out it was Providence ! And so be careful — we have had 
 everything done for us from on High as yet — but be care- 
 ful of your temper, dear Martin. I will hasten on the 
 union ; for it 's a shame of a girl to drag a man behind her 
 till he 's old at the altar. Temper, dear, if you will only 
 think of it, is the weak point." 
 
 "Now he has begun boasting to me of his Australian 
 wines ! " Tinman ejaculated. 
 
 " Bear it. Bear it as you do Gippsland. My dear, you 
 have the retort in your heart : — Yes ! but have you a 
 Court in Australia ? " 
 
 " Ha ! and his Australian wines cost twice the amount 
 I pay for mine ! " 
 
 " Quite true. We are not obliged to buy them, I should 
 hope. I would, though — a dozen — if I thought it neces- 
 sary, to keep him quiet." 
 
 Tinman continued muttering angrily over the Australian 
 wines, with a word of irritation at Gippsland, while prom- 
 ising to be watchful of his temper. 
 
 " What good is Australia to us," he asked, " if it does n't 
 bring us money ? " 
 
 " It 's going to, my dear," said Mrs. Cavely. " Think of 
 that when he begins boasting his Australia. And though 
 it 's convict's money, as he confesses " 
 
 "With his convict's money!" Tinman interjected trem- 
 blingly. " How long am I expected to wait ? " 
 
 "Rely on me to hurry on the day," said Mrs. Cavely. 
 "There is no other annoyance?" 
 
 " Wherever I am going to buy, that man outbids me ! —
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 127 
 
 and then says it 's the old country's want of pluck and 
 dash, and doing things large-handed ! A man who 'd go 
 on his knees to stop in England! " Tinman vociferated in 
 a breath; and fairly reddened by the effort: "He may 
 have to do it yet. I can't stand insult." 
 
 "You are less able to stand insult after Honours," his 
 sister said, in obedience to what she had observed of him 
 since his famous visit to London. "It must be so, in 
 nature. But temper is everything just now. Remember, 
 it was by command of temper, and letting her father put 
 himself in the wrong, you got hold of Annette. And I 
 would abstain even from wine. For sometimes after it, 
 you have owned it disagreed. And I have noticed these 
 eruptions between you and Mr. Smith — as he calls himself 
 — generally after wine." 
 
 " Always the poor ! the poor ! money for the poor ! " Tin- 
 man harped on further grievances against Van Diemen. 
 "I say doctors have said the drain on the common is 
 healthy; it 's a healthy smell, nourishing. We 've always 
 had it and been a healthy town. But the sea encroaches, 
 and I say my house and my property is in danger. He 
 buys my house over my head, and offers me the Crouch to 
 live in at an advanced rent. And then he sells me my 
 house at an advanced price, and I buy, and then he votes 
 against a penny for the protection of the shore! And 
 we 're in Winter again! As if he was not in my power! " 
 
 " My dear Martin, to Elba we go, and soon, if you will 
 govern your temper," said Mrs. Cavely. " You 're an angel 
 to let me speak of it so, and it 's only that man that irritates 
 you. I call him sinfully ostentatious." 
 
 "I could blow him from a gun if I spoke out, and he 
 knows it! He's wanting in common gratitude, let alone 
 respect," Tinman snorted. 
 
 "But he has a daughter, my dear." 
 
 Tinman slowly and crackingly subsided. 
 
 His main grievance against Van Diemen was the non- 
 recognition of his importance by that uncultured Austra- 
 lian, who did not seem to be conscious of the dignities and 
 distinctions we come to in our country. The moneyed 
 daughter, the prospective marriage, for an economical
 
 128 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 man rejected by every lady surrounding him, advised him 
 to lock up his temper in submission to Martha. 
 
 "Bring Annette to dine with us," he said, on Martha's 
 proposing a visit to the dear young creature. 
 
 Martha drank a glass of her brother's wine at lunch, and 
 departed on the mission. 
 
 Annette declined to be brought. Her excuse was her 
 guest, Miss Fellingham. 
 
 "Bring her too, by all means — if you '11 condescend, I 
 am sure," Mrs. Cavely said to Mary. 
 
 "I am much obliged to you; I do not dine out at 
 present," said the London lady. 
 
 " Dear me ! are you ill ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Nothing in the family, I hope?" 
 
 "My family?" 
 
 "I am sure, I beg pardon," said Mrs. Cavely, bridling 
 with a spite pardonable by the severest moralist. 
 
 " Can I speak to you alone ? " she addressed Annette. 
 
 Miss Fellingham rose. 
 
 Mrs. Cavely confronted her. "I can't allow it; I can't 
 think of it. I 'm only taking a little liberty with one I 
 may call my future sister-in-law." 
 
 " Shall I come out with you ? " said Annette, in sheer 
 lassitude assisting Mary Fellingham in her scheme to show 
 the distastefulness of this lady and her brother. 
 
 "Not if you don't wish to." 
 
 "I have no objection." 
 
 "Another time will do." 
 
 " Will you write ? " 
 
 "By post indeed! " 
 
 Mrs. Cavely delivered a laugh supposed to be peculiar to 
 the English stage. 
 
 "It would be a penny thrown away," said Annette. "I 
 thought you could send a messenger." 
 
 Intercommunication with Miss Fellingham had done 
 mischief to her high moral conception of the pair inhabit- 
 ing the house on the beach. 
 
 Mrs. Cavely saw it, and could not conceal that she 
 6marted. 
 
 Her counsel to her brother, after recounting the offensive
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 129 
 
 scene to him in animated dialogue, was, to give Van 
 Dieinen a fright. 
 
 "I wish I had not drunk that glass of sherry before 
 starting," she exclaimed, both savagely and sagely. "It 's 
 best after business. And these gentlemen's habits of 
 yours of taking to dining late upset me. I 'm afraid I 
 showed temper; but you, Martin, would not have borne 
 one-tenth of what I did." 
 
 "How dare you say so! " her brother rebuked her indig- 
 nantly; and the house on the beach enclosed with difficulty 
 A storm between brother and sister, happily not heard 
 outside, because of loud winds raging. 
 
 Nevertheless Tinman pondered on Martha's idea of the 
 wisdom of giving Van Dieinen a fright. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 The English have been called a bad-tempered people, but 
 this is to judge of them by their manifestations; whereas 
 an examination into causes might prove them to be no 
 worse tempered than that man is a bad sleeper who lies in 
 a biting bed. If a sagacious instinct directs them to dis- 
 countenance realistic tales, the realistic tale should justify 
 its appearance by the discovery of an apology for the tor- 
 mented souls. Once they sang madrigals, once they danced 
 on the green, they revelled in their lusty humours, without 
 having recourse to the pun for fun, an exhibition of hun- 
 dreds of bare legs for jollity, a sentimental wailing all in 
 the throat for music. Evidence is procurable that they 
 have been an artificially-reared people, feeding on the 
 genius of inventors, transposers, adulterators, instead of 
 the products of nature, for the last half century ; and it is 
 unfair to affirm of them that they are positively this or 
 that. They are experiments. They are the sons and 
 victims of a desperate Energy, alluring by cheapness, 
 satiating with quantity, that it may mount in the social 
 scale, at the expense of their tissues. The land is in a
 
 130 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 state of fermentation to mount, and the shop, which has 
 shot half their stars to their social zenith, is what verily 
 they would scald themselves to wash themselves free of. 
 Nor is it in any degree a reprehensible sign that they 
 should fly as from hue and cry the title of tradesman. It 
 is on the contrary the spot of sanity, which bids us right 
 cordially hope. Energy, transferred to the moral sense, 
 may clear them yet. 
 
 Meanwhile this beer, this wine, both are of a character 
 to have killed more than the tempers of a less gifted people. 
 Martin Tinman invited Van Diemen Smith to try the 
 flavour of a wine that, as he said, he thought of "laying 
 down." 
 
 It has been hinted before of a strange effect upon the 
 minds of men who knew what they were going to, when 
 they received an invitation to dine with Tinman. For the 
 sake of a little social meeting at any cost, they accepted 
 it; accepted it with a sigh, midway as by engineering 
 measurement between prospective and retrospective; as 
 nearly mechanical as things human may be, like the Mus- 
 sulman's accustomed cry of Kismet. Has it not been re- 
 lated of the little Jew babe sucking at its mother's breast 
 iu Jerusalem, that this innocent, long after the Captivity, 
 would start convulsively, relinquishing its feast, and in- 
 dulging in the purest Hebrew lamentation of the most 
 tenacious of races, at the passing sound of a Babylonian 
 or a Ninevite voice ? In some such maimer did men, 
 unable to refuse, deep in what remained to them of nature, 
 listen to Tinman; and so did Van Diemen, sighing heavily 
 under the operation of simple animal instinct. 
 
 "You seem miserable," said Tinman, not oblivious of his 
 design to give his friend a fright. 
 
 " Do I ? No, I 'm all right, " Van Diemen replied. " I 'm 
 thinking of alterations at the Hall before Summer, to 
 accommodate guests — if I stay here." 
 
 "I suppose you would not like to be separated from 
 Annette." 
 
 "Separated? No, I should think I shouldn't. Who'd 
 doit?" 
 
 "Because I should not like to leave my good sister 
 Martha all to herself in a house so near the sea-"
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 131 
 
 " Why not go to the Crouch, man ? " 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 " No thanks needed if you don't take advantage of the 
 offer." 
 
 They were at the entrance to Elba, whither Mr. Tinman 
 was betaking himself to see his intended. He asked if 
 Annette was at home, and to his great stupefaction heard 
 that she had gone to London for a week. 
 
 Dissembling the spite aroused within him, he postponed 
 his very strongly fortified design, and said, "You must be 
 lonely." 
 
 Van Diemen informed him that it would be for a night 
 mly, as young Fellingham was coming down to keep him. 
 company. 
 
 "At six o'clock this evening, then," said Tinman. 
 "We're not fashionable in Winter." 
 
 "Hang me, if I know when ever we were! " Van Diemen 
 rejoined. 
 
 " Come, though, you 'd like to be. You 've got your 
 ambition, Philip, like other men." 
 
 " Respectable and respected — that 's my ambition, Mr. 
 Mart." 
 
 Tinman simpered : " With your wealth ! " 
 
 " Ay, I 'm rich — for a contented mind." 
 
 "I 'm pretty sure you '11 approve my new vintage," said 
 Tinman. " It 's direct from Oporto, my wine-merchant tells 
 me, on his word." 
 
 " What 's the price ? " 
 
 "No, no, no. Try it first. It 's rather a stiff price." 
 
 Van Diemen was partially reassured by the announce- 
 ment. " What do you call a stiff price ? " 
 
 "Well!— over thirty." 
 
 "Double that, and you may have a chance." 
 
 "Now," cried Tinman, exasperated, "how can a man 
 from Australia know anything about prices for port? You 
 can't divest your ideas of diggers' prices. You 're like an 
 intoxicating drink yourself on the tradesmen of our town. 
 You think it fine — ha! ha! I daresay, Philip, I should 
 be doing the same if I were up to your mark at my 
 banker's. We can't all of us be lords, nor baronets." 
 
 Catching up his temper thus cleverly, he curbed that
 
 132 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 habitual runaway, and retired from his old friend's pres- 
 ence to explode in the society of the solitary Martha. 
 
 Annette's behaviour was as bitterly criticized by the 
 sister as by the brother. 
 
 " She has gone to those Fellingham people ; and she may 
 be thinking of jilting us," Mrs. Cavely said. 
 
 " In that case, I have no mercy," cried her brother. " I 
 have borne" — he bowed with a professional spiritual 
 humility — "as I should, but it may get past endurance. 
 I say I have borne enough ; and if the worst comes to the 
 worst, and I hand him over to the authorities — I say I 
 mean him no harm, but he has struck me. He beat me as 
 a boy and he has struck me as a man, and I say I have no 
 thought of revenge, but I cannot have him here; and I 
 say if I drive him out of the country back to his Gipps- 
 laud » 
 
 Martin Tinman quivered for speech, probably for that 
 which feedeth speech, as is the way with angry men. 
 
 " And what ? what then ? " said Martha, with the tender 
 mellifluous aess of sisterly reproach. " What good can you 
 expect of letting temper get the better of you, dear ? " 
 
 Tinman did not enjoy her recent turn for usurping the 
 lead in their consultations, and he said, tartly, " This good, 
 Martha. We shall get the Hall at my price, and be Head 
 People here. Which," he raised his note, "which he, a 
 Deserter, has no right to pretend to give himself out to be. 
 What your feelings may be as an old inhabitant, I don't 
 know, but I have always looked up to the people at Elba 
 Hall, and I say I don't like to have a Deserter squandering 
 convict's money there — with his forty-pound-a-year cook, 
 and his champagne at seventy a dozen. It 's the luxury of 
 Sodom and Gomorrah." 
 
 "That does not prevent its being very nice to dine 
 there," said Mrs. Cavely; "and it shall be our table for 
 good if I have any management." 
 
 "You mean me, ma'am," bellowed Tinman. 
 
 "Not at all," she breathed, in dulcet contrast. "You 
 are good-looking, Martin, but you have not half such pretty 
 eyes as the person I mean. I never ventured to dream of 
 managing you, Martin. I am thinking of the people at 
 Elba."
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 133 
 
 "But why this extraordinary treatment of me, Martha ? " 
 
 "She 's a child, having her head turned by those Felling- 
 hams. But she's honourable; she has sworn to me she 
 would be honourable." 
 
 " You do think I may as well give him a fright ? " Tin- 
 man inquired hungrily. 
 
 "A sort of hint; but very gentle, Martin. Do be gentle 
 — casual like — as if you didn't want to say it. Get him 
 on his Gippsland. Then if he brings you to words, you 
 can always laugh back, and say you will go to Kew and 
 see the Fernery, and fancy all that, so high, on Helvellyn 
 or the Downs. Why " — Mrs. Cavely, at the end of her 
 astute advices and cautionings, as usual, gave loose to her 
 natural character — " Why that man came back to England 
 at all, with his boastings of Gippsland, I can't for the life 
 of me find out. It 's a perfect mystery." 
 
 "It is," Tinman sounded his voice at a great depth, re- 
 flectively. Glad of taking the part she was perpetually 
 assuming of late, he put out his hand and said: "But it 
 may have been ordained for our good, Martha." 
 
 "True, dear," said she, with an earnest sentiment of 
 thankfulness to the Bower which had led him round to 
 her way of thinking and feeling. 
 
 CHABTEK, XI 
 
 Annette had gone to the big metropolis, which burns in 
 colonial imaginations as the sun of cities, and was about to 
 see something of London, under the excellent auspices of 
 her new friend, Mary Fellingham, and a dense fog. She 
 was alarmed by the darkness, a little in fear, too, of 
 Herbert; and these feelings caused her to chide herself for 
 leaving her father. 
 
 Hearing her speak of her father sadly, Herbert kindly 
 proposed to go down to Crikswich on the very day of her 
 coming. She thanked him, and gave him a taste of bitter- 
 ness by smiling favourably on his offer; but as he wished 
 her to discern and take to heart the difference between one
 
 134 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 man and another, in the light of a suitor, he let her per- 
 ceive that it cost him heavy pangs to depart immediately, 
 and left her to brood on his example. Mary Fellingham 
 liked Annette. She thought her a sensible girl of uncul- 
 tivated sensibilities, the reverse of thousands ; not common- 
 place, therefore; and that the sensibilities were expanding 
 was to be seen in her gradual unreadiness to talk of her 
 engagement to Mr. Tinman, though her intimacy with 
 Mary warmed daily. She considered she was bound to 
 marry the man at some distant date, and did not feel un- 
 happiness yet. She had only felt uneasy when she had to 
 greet and converse with her intended; especially when the 
 London young lady had been present. Herbert's departure 
 relieved her of the pressing sense of contrast. She praised 
 him to Mary for his extreme kindness to her father, and 
 down in her unsounded heart desired that her father 
 might appreciate it even more than she did. 
 
 Herbert drove into Crikswich at night, and stopped at 
 Crickledon's, where he heard that Van Diemen was dining 
 with Tinman. 
 
 Crickledon the carpenter permitted certain dry curves to 
 play round his lips like miniature shavings at the name of 
 Tinman ; but Herbert asked, " What is it now ? " in vain, 
 and he went to Crickledon the cook. 
 
 This union of the two Crickledons, male and female, was 
 an ideal one, such as poor women dream of; and men 
 would do the same, if they knew how poor they are. Each 
 had a profession, each was independent of the other, each 
 supported the fabric. Consequently there was mutual 
 respect, as between two pillars of a house. Each saw the 
 other's faults with a sly wink to the world, and an occa- 
 sional interchange of sarcasm that was tonic, very strength- 
 ening to the wits without endangering the habit of affection. 
 Crickledon the cook stood for her own opinions, and directed 
 the public conduct of Crickledon the carpenter; and if he 
 went astray from the line she marked out, she put it down 
 to human nature, to which she was tolerant. He, when 
 she had not followed his advice, ascribed it to the nature 
 of women. She never said she was the equal of her hus- 
 band; but the carpenter proudly acknowledged that she 
 (was as good «*,s a man, and he bore with foibles rathei
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 135 
 
 derogatory to such high stature, by teaching himself to 
 observe a neatness of domestic and general management 
 that told him he certainly was not as good as a woman. 
 Herbert delighted in them. The cook regaled the car- 
 penter with skilful, tasty, and economic dishes; and the 
 carpenter, obedient to her supplications, had promised, in 
 the event of his outliving her, that no hands but his should 
 have the making of her coffin. "It is so nice," she said, 
 " to think one's own husband will put together the box you 
 are to lie in, of his own make!" Had they been even a 
 doubtfully united pair, the cook's anticipation of a com- 
 fortable coffin, the work of the best carpenter in England, 
 would have kept them together; and that which fine cookery 
 does for the cementing of couples needs not to be recounted 
 to those who have read a chapter or two of the natural 
 history of the male sex. 
 
 " chickledon, my dear soul, your husband is labouring 
 with a bit of fun," Herbert said to her. 
 
 " Hfe would n't laugh loud at Punch, for fear of an 
 action," she replied. "He never laughs out till he gets to 
 bed, and has locked the door; and when he does he says 
 1 Hush ! ' to me. Tinman is n't bailiff again just yet, and 
 where he has his bailiff's best Court suit from, you may 
 ask. He exercises in it off and on all the week, at night, 
 and sometimes in the middle of the day." 
 
 Herbert rallied her for her gossip's credulity. 
 
 " It 's truth," she declared. " I have it from the maid of 
 the house, little Jane, whom he pays four pound a year for 
 ail the work of the house : a clever little thing with her 
 hands and her head she is ; and can read and write beau- 
 tiful; and she 's a mind to leave 'em if they don't advance 
 her. She knocked and went in while he was full blaze, 
 and bowing his poll to his glass. And now he turns the 
 key, and a child might know he was at it." 
 
 " He can't be such a donkey! " 
 
 " And he 's been seen at the window on the seaside. 
 ' Who 's your Admiral staying at the house on the beach ? ' 
 men have inquired as they come ashore. My husband has 
 heard it. Tinman 's got it on his brain. He might be 
 cured by marriage to a sound-headed woman, but he '11 
 soon be wanting to walk about in silk legs if he stops a
 
 136 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 bachelor. They tell me his old mother here had a dress 
 value twenty pound; and pomp's inherited. Save as he 
 may, there 's his leak." 
 
 Herbert's contempt for Tinman was intense ; it was that 
 of the young and ignorant who live in their imaginations 
 like spendthrifts, unaware of the importance of them as 
 the food of life, and of how necessary it is to seize upon 
 the solider one among them for perpetual sustenance when 
 the unsubstantial are vanishing. The great event of his 
 bailiff's term of office had become the sun of Tinman's 
 system. He basked in its rays. He meant to be again 
 the proud official, royally distinguished; meantime, though 
 he knew not that his days were dull, he groaned under the 
 dulness; and, as cart or cab horses, uncomplaining as a 
 rule, show their view of the nature of harness when they 
 have release to frisk in a field, it is possible that existence 
 was made tolerable to the jogging man by some minutes of 
 excitement in his bailiff's Court suit. Keally to pasture 
 on our recollections we ought to dramatize them. There is, 
 however, only the testimony of a maid and a mariner to 
 show that Tinman did it, and those are witnesses coming 
 of particularly long-bow classes, given to magnify small 
 items of fact. 
 
 Un reaching the hall Herbert found the fire alight in the 
 smoking-room, and soon after settling himself there he 
 heard Van Diemen's voice at the hall-door saying good 
 night to Tinman. 
 
 "Thank the Lord! there you are," said Van Diemen, 
 entering the room. "I couldn't have hoped so much. 
 That rascal ! " he turned round to the door. " He has been 
 threatening me, and then smoothing me. Hang his oil! 
 It 's combustible. And hang the port he 's for laying 
 down, as he calls it. ' Leave it to posterity, ' says I. 
 ' Why ? ' says he. ' Because the young ones '11 be better 
 able to take care of themselves,' says I, and he insists on 
 an explanation. I gave it to him. Out he bursts like a 
 wasp's nest. He may have said what he did say in temper. 
 He seemed sorry afterwards — poor old Mart ! The scoun- 
 drel talked of Horse Guards and telegraph wires." 
 
 "Scoundrel, but more ninny," said Herbert, full of his 
 contempt. "Dare him to do his worst. The General tells
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 137 
 
 me they 'd be glad to overlook it at the Guards, even if 
 they had all the facts. Branding 's out of the question." 
 
 " I swear it was done in my time," cried Van Diemen, all 
 on tire. 
 
 " It 's out of the question. You might be advised 
 to leave England for a few months. As for the society 
 here " 
 
 " If I leave, I leave for good. My heart 's broken. I 'm 
 disappointed. I 'm deceived in my friend. He and I in 
 the old days! What's come to him? What on earth is 
 it changes men who stop in England so ? It can't be 
 the climate. And did you mention my name to General 
 FelHngham ? " 
 
 "Certainly not," said Herbert. "But listen to me, sir, 
 a moment. Why not get together half-a-dozen friends of 
 the neighbourhood, and make a clean breast of it. English- 
 men like that kind of manliness, and they are sure to ring 
 sound to it." 
 
 " I could n't ! " Van Diemen sighed. " It 's not a natural 
 feeling I have about it — I 've brooded on the word. If I 
 have a nightmare, I see Deserter written in sulphur on the 
 black wall." 
 
 "You can't remain at his mercy, and be bullied as you 
 are. He makes you ill, sir. He won't do anything, but 
 he '11 go on worrying you. I 'd stop him at once. I 'd 
 take the train to-morrow and get an introduction to the 
 Commander-in-Chief. He 's the very man to be kind to 
 you in a situation like this. The General would get you 
 the introduction." 
 
 "That's more to my taste; but no, I couldn't," Van 
 Diemen moaned in his weakness. "Money has unmanned 
 me. I wasn't this kind of man formerly; nor more was 
 Mart Tinman, the traitor! All the world seems changeing 
 for the worse, and England is n't what she used to be." 
 
 " You let that man spoil it for you, sir." Herbert related 
 Mrs. Crickledon's tale of Mr. Tinman, adding, "He's an 
 utter donkey. I should defy him. What I should do 
 would be to let him know to-morrow morning that you 
 don't intend to see him again. Blow for blow, is the thing 
 he requires. He '11 be cringing to you in a week." 
 
 "And you'd like to marry Annette," said Van Diemen,
 
 138 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 relishing, nevertheless, the advice, whose origin and object 
 he perceived so plainly. 
 
 "Of course I should," said Herbert, franker still in his 
 colour than his speech. 
 
 " I don't see him my girl's husband." Van Diemen eyed 
 the red hollow in the falling coals. " When I came first, 
 and found him a healthy man, good-looking enough for a 
 trifle over forty, I 'd have given her gladly, she nodding 
 Yes. Now all my fear is she 's in earnest. Upon my soul, 
 I had the notion old Mart was a sort of a boy still ; play- 
 ing man, you know. But how can you understand ? I 
 fancied his airs and stiffness were put on; thought I saw 
 him burning true behind it. Who can tell ? He seems to 
 be jealous of my buying property in his native town. 
 Something frets him. I ought never to have struck him ! 
 There 's my error, and I repent it. Strike a friend! I 
 wonder he did n't go off to the Horse Guards at once. I 
 might have done it in his place, if I found I couldn't lick 
 him. I should have tried kicking first." 
 
 "Yes, shinning before peaching," said Herbert, aston- 
 ished almost as much as he was disgusted by the inveterate 
 sentimental attachment of Van Diemen to his old friend. 
 
 Martin Tinman anticipated good things of the fright he 
 had given the man after dinner. He had, undoubtedly, 
 yielded to temper, forgetting pure policy, which it is so 
 exceeding difficult to practice. But he had soothed the 
 startled beast; they had shaken hands at parting, and 
 Tinman hoped that the week of Annette's absence would 
 enable him to mould her father. Young Fellingham's 
 appointment to come to Elba had slipped Mr. Tinman's 
 memory. It was annoying to see this intruder. "At all 
 events, he 's not with Annette," said Mrs. Cavely. "How 
 long has her father to run on ? " 
 
 " Five months," Tinman replied. " He would have com- 
 pleted his term of service in five months." 
 
 "And to think of his being a rich man because he de- 
 serted," Mrs. Cavely interjected. "Oh! I do call it im- 
 moral. He ought to be apprehended and punished, to be 
 an example for the good of society. If you lose time, my 
 dear Martin, your chance is gone. He 's wriggling now. 
 And if I could believe he talked us over to that young
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 139 
 
 impudent, who has n't a penny that he does n't get from his 
 pen, I 'd say, denounce him to-morrow. I long for Elba. 
 I hate this house. It will be swallowed up some day ; I 
 know it; I have dreamt it. Elba at any cost. Depend 
 upon it, Martin, you have been foiled in your suits on 
 account of the mean house you inhabit. Enter Elba as 
 that girl's husband, or go there to own it, and girls will 
 crawl to you." 
 
 "You are a ridiculous woman, Martha," said Tinman, 
 not dissenting. 
 
 The mixture of an idea of public duty with a feeling of 
 personal rancour is a strong incentive to the pursuit of a 
 stern line of conduct; and the glimmer of self-interest 
 superadded does not check the steps of the moralist. 
 Nevertheless, Tinman held himself in. He loved peace. 
 He preached it, he disseminated it. At a meeting in the 
 town he strove to win Van Diemen's voice in favour of a 
 vote for further moneys to protect ' our shores." Van 
 Diemen laughed at him, telling him he wanted a battery. 
 "No," said Tinman, " I 've had enough to do with soldiers." 
 
 " How 's that ? " 
 
 " They might be more cautious. I say, they might learn 
 to know their friends from their enemies." 
 
 "That's it, that's it," said Van Diemen. "If you say 
 much more, my hearty, you '11 find me bidding against you 
 next week for Marine Parade and Belle Vue Terrace. 
 I 've a cute eye for property, and this town 's looking up." 
 
 " You look about you before you speculate in land and 
 house property here," retorted Tinman. 
 
 Van Diemen bore so much from him that he asked him- 
 self whether he could be an Englishman. The title of 
 Deserter was his raw wound. He attempted to form the 
 habit of stigmatizing himself with it in the privacy of his 
 chamber, and he succeeded in establishing the habit of 
 talking to himself, so that he was heard by the household, 
 and Annette, on her return, was obliged to warn him of his 
 indiscretion. This development of a new weakness exas- 
 perated him. Rather to prove his courage by defiance than 
 to baffle Tinman's ambition to become the principal owner 
 of houses in Crikswich, by outbidding him at the auction 
 for the s.-\le of Marine Parade and Belle Vue Terrace, V*»*.
 
 140 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 Diemen ran the houses up at the auction, and ultimately 
 had Belle Vue knocked down to him. So fierce was the 
 quarrel that Anuette, in conjunction with Mrs. Cavely. 
 was called on to interpose with her sweetest grace. "My 
 native place," Tinman said to her; "it is my native place. 
 I have a pride in it; I desire to own property in it, and 
 your father opposes me. He opposes me. Then says I 
 may have it back at auction price, after he has gone far 
 to double the price ! I have borne — I repeat I have borne 
 too much." 
 
 "Aren't your properties to be equal to one ?" said Mrs. 
 Cavely, smiling mother-like from Tinman to Annette. 
 
 He sought to produce a fondling eye in a wry face, and 
 said, "Yes, I will remember that." 
 
 "Annette will bless you with her dear hand in a month 
 or two at the outside," Mrs. Cavely murmured, cherish- 
 ingly. 
 
 "She will ?" Tinman cracked his body to bend to her. 
 
 "Oh, I cannot say; do not distress me. Be friendly 
 with papa," the girl resumed, moving to escape. 
 
 "That is the essential," said Mrs. Cavely; and continued, 
 when Annette had gone, " The essential is to get over the 
 next few months, miss, and then to snap your fingers at 
 us. Martin, I would force that man to sell you Belle Vue 
 under the price he paid for it, just to try your power." 
 
 Tinman was not quite so forcible. He obtained Belle 
 Vue at auction price, and his passion for revenge was 
 tipped with fire by having it accorded as a friend's favour. 
 
 The poisoned state of his mind was increased by a 
 December high wind that rattled his casements, and warned 
 him of his accession of property exposed to the elements. 
 Both he and his sister attributed their nervousness to the 
 minister behaviour of Van Diemen. For the house on the 
 beach had only, in most distant times, been threatened by 
 the sea, and no house on earth was better protected from 
 man, — Neptune, in the shape of a coastguard, being paid 
 by Government to patrol about it during the hours of 
 darkness. They had never had any fears before Van 
 Diemen arrived, and caused them to give thrice their ordi- 
 nary number of dinners to guests per annum. In fact, 
 before Van Diemen came, the house on the beach looked
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 141 
 
 on Crikswich without a rival to challenge its anticipated 
 lordship over the place, and for some inexplicable reason 
 it seemed to its inhabitants to have been a safer as well as 
 a happier residence. 
 
 They were consoled by Tinman's performance of a clever 
 stroke in privately purchasing the cottages west of the 
 town, and including Crickledon's shop, abutting on Marine 
 Parade. Then from the house on the beach they looked at 
 an entire frontage of their property. 
 
 They entered the month of February. No further time 
 was to be lost, " or we shall wake up to find that man has 
 fooled us," Mrs. Cavely said. Tinman appeared at Elba to 
 demand a private interview with Annette. His hat was 
 blown into the hall as the door opened to him, and he 
 himself was glad to be sheltered by the door, so violent was 
 the gale. Annette and her father were sitting together. 
 They kept the betrothed gentleman waiting a very long 
 time. At last Van Diemen went to him, and said, 
 " Netty '11 see you, if you must. I suppose you have no 
 business with me ? " 
 
 "Not to-day," Tinman replied. 
 
 Van Diemen strode round the drawing-room with his 
 hands in his pockets. "There 's a disparity of ages," he 
 said, abruptly, as if desirous to pour out his lesson while 
 he remembered it. "A man upwards of forty marries a 
 girl under twenty, he 's over sixty before she 's forty; he 's 
 decaying when she 's only mellow. I ought never to have 
 struck you, I know. And you're such an infernal bad 
 temper at times, and age doesn't improve that, they say; 
 and she 's been educated tip-top. She 's sharp on grammar, 
 and a man may n't like that much when he 's a husband. 
 See her, if you must. But she doesn't take to the idea; 
 there 's the truth. Disparity of ages and unsuitableness 
 of dispositions — what was it Fellingham said ? — like two 
 barrel-organs grinding different tunes all day in a house." 
 
 "I don't want to hear Mr. Fellingham's comparisons," 
 Tinman snapped. 
 
 "Oh! he's nothing to the girl," said Van Diemen. 
 "She doesn't stomach leaving me." 
 
 " My dear Philip ! why should she leave you ? When we 
 have interests in common as one household "
 
 142 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 "She says you're such a damned bad temper." 
 
 Tinman was pursuing amicably, "When we ure 
 
 united " But the frightful charge brought against his 
 
 temper drew him up. "Fiery I may be. Annette has 
 seen I am forgiving. I am a Christian. You have pro- 
 voked me; you have struck me." 
 
 " I '11 give you a couple of thousand pounds in hard 
 money to be off the bargain, and not bother the girl," said 
 Van Diemen. 
 
 "Now," rejoined Tinman, "I am offended. I like 
 money, like most men who have made it. You do, Philip. 
 But I don't come courting like a pauper. Not for ten 
 thousand; not for twenty. Money cannot be a compensa- 
 tion to me for the loss of Annette. I say I love Annette." 
 
 "Because," Van Diemen continued his speech, "you 
 trapped us into that engagement, Mart. You dosed me 
 with the stuff you buy for wine, while your sister sat 
 sugaring and mollifying my girl ; and she did the trick in 
 a minute, taking Netty by surprise when I was all heart 
 and no head; and since that you may have seen the girl 
 turn her head from marriage like my woods from the 
 wind." 
 
 " Mr. Van Diemen Smith ! " Tinman panted ; he mastered 
 himself. "You shall not provoke me. My introductions 
 of you in this neighbourhood, my patronage, prove my 
 friendship." 
 
 " You '11 be a good old fellow, Mart, when you get over 
 your hopes of being knighted." 
 
 " Mr. Fellingham may set you against my wine, Philip. 
 Let me tell you — I know you — you would not object to 
 have your daughter called Lady." 
 
 "With a spindle-shanked husband capering in a Court 
 suit before he goes to bed every night, that he mayn't 
 forget what a fine fellow he was one day bygone ! You 're 
 growing lean on it, Mart, like a recollection fifty years 
 old." 
 
 "You have never forgiven me that day, Philip! " 
 
 "Jealous, am I ? Take the money, give up the girl, and 
 see what friends we '11 be. I '11 back your buyings, I '11 
 advertise your sellings. I '11 pay a painter to paint you in 
 your Court suit, and hang up a copy of you in my dining- 
 room."
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 143 
 
 "Annette is here," said Tinman, who had been showing 
 ^Etna's tokens of insurgency. 
 
 He admired Annette. Not till latterly had Herbert 
 Fellingham been so true an admirer of Annette as Tinman 
 was. She looked sincere and she dressed inexpensively. 
 For these reasons she was the best example of womankind 
 that he knew, and her enthusiasm for England had the 
 sympathetic effect on him of obscuring the rest of the world, 
 and thrilling him with the reassuring belief that he was 
 blest in his blood and his birthplace — points which her 
 father, with his boastings of Gippsland, and other people 
 talking of scenes on the Continent, sometimes disturbed in 
 his mind. 
 
 "Annette," said he, "I come requesting to converse with 
 you in private." 
 
 "If you wish it — I would rather not," she answered. 
 
 Tinman raised his head, as often at Helmstone when 
 some offending shopwoman was to hear her doom. 
 
 He bent to her. "I see. Before your father, then! " 
 
 "It isn't an agreeable bit of business to me," Van 
 Diemen grumbled, frowning and shrugging. 
 
 " I have come, Annette, to ask you, to beg you, entreat 
 — before a third person — laughing, Philip ?" 
 
 " The wrong side of my mouth, my friend. And I '11 tell 
 you what : we 're in for heavy seas, and I 'm not sorry 
 you 've taken the house on the beach off my hands." 
 
 "Pray, Mr. Tinman, speak at once, if you please, and I 
 will do my best. Papa vexes you." 
 
 "No, no," replied Tinman. > 
 
 He renewed his commencement. Van Diemen inter- 
 rupted him again. 
 
 " Hang your power over me, as you call it. Eh, old 
 Mart ? I 'm a Deserter. I '11 pay a thousand pounds to 
 the British army, whether they punish me or not. March 
 me off to-morrow." 
 
 "Papa, you are unjust, unkind." Annette turned to him 
 in tears. 
 
 "No, no," said Tinman, "I do not feel it. Your father 
 has misunderstood me, Annette." 
 
 "I am sure he has," she said fervently. "And, Mr. 
 Tinman, I will faithfully promise that so long as you are
 
 144 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 good to my dear father, I will not be untrue to my engage- 
 ment, only do not wish me to name any day. We shall be 
 such very good dear friends if you consent to this. Will 
 you?" 
 
 Pausing for a space, the enamoured man unrolled his 
 voice in lamentation: "Oh! Annette, how long will you 
 keep me ? " 
 
 "There, you'll set her crying!" said Van Diemen. 
 "'Now you can run upstairs, Netty. By jingo! Mart 
 Tinman, you 've got a bass voice for love affairs." 
 
 "Annette," Tinman called to her, and made her turn 
 round as she was retiring. " I must know the day before 
 the end of winter. Please. In kind consideration. My 
 arrangements demand it." 
 
 " Do let the girl go," said Van Diemen. " Dine with me 
 to-night, and I '11 give you a wine to brisk your spirits, old 
 boy." 
 
 " Thank you. When I have ordered dinner at home, 
 I and my wine agrees with me" Tinman replied. 
 
 " I doubt it." 
 
 " You shall not provoke me, Philip." 
 
 They parted stiffly. 
 
 Mrs. Cavely had unpleasant domestic news to communi- 
 cate to her brother, in return for his tale of affliction and 
 wrath. It concerned the ungrateful conduct of their little 
 housemaid Jane, who, as Mrs. Cavely said, "egged on by 
 that woman Crickledon," had been hinting at an advance of 
 wages. 
 
 " She did n't dare speak, but I saw what was in her when 
 she broke a plate, and wouldn't say she was sorry. I 
 know she goes to Crickledon and talks us over. She 's a 
 willing worker, but she has no heart." 
 
 Tinman had been accustomed in his shop at Helmstone — 
 where heaven had blessed him with the patronage of the 
 rich, as visibly as rays of supernal light are seen selecting 
 from above the heads of prophets in the illustrations to 
 cheap holy books — to deal with willing workers that have 
 no hearts. Before the application for an advance of wages 
 — and he knew the signs of it coming — his method was to 
 calculate how much he might be asked for, and divide the 
 estimated sum by the figure 4; which, as it seemed to
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 145 
 
 come from a generous impulse, and had been unsolicited, 
 was often humbly accepted, and the willing worker pur- 
 sued her lean and hungry course in his service. The treat- 
 ment did not always agree with his males. Women it 
 suited, because they do not like to lift up their voices 
 unless they are in a passion ; and if you take from them 
 the grounds of temper, you take their words away — you 
 make chickens of them. And as Tinman said, " Gratitude 
 I never expect ! " Why not ? For the reason that he 
 knew human nature. He could record shocking instances 
 of the ingratitude of human nature, as revealed to him in 
 the term of his tenure of the shop at Helmstone. Blest 
 from above, human nature's wickedness had from below 
 too frequently besulphured and suffumigated him for his 
 memory to be dim ; and though he was ever ready to own 
 himself an example that heaven prevaileth, he could cite 
 instances of scandalmongering shop-women dismissed and 
 working him mischief in the town, which pointed to him 
 in person for a proof that the Powers of Good and 
 Evil were still engaged in unhappy contention. Witness 
 Strikes! witness Revolutions! 
 
 "Tell her, when she lays the cloth, that I advance her, 
 on account of general good conduct, five shillings per 
 annum. Add," said Tinman, " that I wish no thanks. It 
 is for her merits — to reward her; you understand me, 
 Martha ? " 
 
 " Quite ; if you think it prudent, Martin." 
 
 "I do. She is not to breathe a syllable to cook." 
 
 "She will." 
 
 " Then keep your eye on cook." 
 
 Mrs. Cavely promised she would do so. She felt sure 
 she was paying five shillings for ingratitude ; and, there- 
 fore, it was with humility that she owned her error when, 
 while her brother sipped his sugared acrid liquor after 
 dinner (in devotion to the doctor's decree, that he should 
 take a couple of glasses, rigorously as body-lashing friar), 
 she imparted to him the singular effect of the advance of 
 wages upon little Jane — " Oh, ma'am ! and me never 
 asked you for it!" She informed her brother how little 
 Jane had confided to her that they were called "close," 
 and how little Jane had vowed she would — the willing
 
 146 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 little thing ! — go about letting everybody know theii 
 kindness. 
 
 " Yes ! Ah ! " Tinman inhaled the praise. " No, no ; I 
 don't want to be puffed," he said. "Remember cook. I 
 have," he continued, meditatively, "rarely found my plan 
 fail. But mind, I give the Crickledons notice to quit 
 to-morrow. They are a pest. Besides, I shall probably 
 think of erecting villas." 
 
 " How dreadful the wind is ! " Mrs. Cavely exclaimed. 
 "I would give that girl Annette one chance more. Try 
 her by letter." 
 
 Tinman despatched a business letter to Annette, which 
 brought back a vague, unbusiness-like reply. Two days 
 afterward Mrs. Cavely reported to her brother the presence 
 of Mr. Fellingham and Miss Mary Fellingham in Crikswich. 
 At her dictation he wrote a second letter. This time the 
 reply came from Van Diemen : — 
 
 " My dear Martin, — Please do not go on bothering my 
 girl. She does not like the idea of leaving me, and my 
 experience tells me I could not live in the bouse with you. 
 So there it is. Take it friendly. I have always wanted to 
 be, and am, " Your friend, 
 
 "Phil." 
 
 Tinman proceeded straight to Elba; that is, as nearly 
 straight as the wind would allow his legs to walk. Van 
 Diemen was announced to be out ; Miss Annette begged to 
 be excused, under the pretext that she was unwell; and 
 Tinman heard of a dinner-party at Elba that night. 
 
 He met Mr. Fellingham on the carriage drive. The 
 young Londoner presumed to touch upon Tinman's private 
 affairs by pleading on behalf of the Crickledons, who were, 
 he said, much dejected by the notice they had received to 
 quit house and shop. 
 
 " Another time," bawled Tinman. " I can't hear you in 
 this wind." 
 
 "Come in," said Fellingham. 
 
 "The master of the house is absent," was the smart 
 retort roared at him ; and Tinman staggered away, enjoying 
 it as he did his wine.
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 147 
 
 His house rocked. He was backed by his sister in the 
 assurance that he had been duped. 
 
 The process he supposed to be thinking, which was the 
 castigation of his brains with every sting wherewith a 
 native touchiness could ply immediate recollection, led him 
 to conclude that he must bring Van Diemen to his senses, 
 and Annette running to him for mercy. 
 
 He sat down that night amid the howling of the storm, 
 wind whistling, water crashing, casements rattling, beach 
 desperately dragging, as by the wide-stretched star-fish 
 fingers of the half-engulphed. 
 
 He hardly knew what he wrote. The man was in a 
 state of personal terror, burning with indignation at Van 
 Diemen as the main cause of his jeopardy. For, in order 
 to prosecute his pursuit of Annette, he had abstained from 
 going to Helmstone to pay moneys into his bank there, and 
 what was precious to life as well as life itself, was imper- 
 illed by those two — Annette and her father — who, had 
 they been true, had they been honest, to say nothing of 
 honourable, would by this time have opened Elba to him as 
 a fast and safe abode. 
 
 His letter was addressed, on a large envelope, 
 
 " To the Adjutant-General, 
 
 "Horse Guards." 
 
 But if ever consigned to the Post, that post-office must 
 be in London ; and Tinman left the letter on his desk till 
 the moruing should bring counsel to him as to the London 
 friend to whom he might despatch it under cover for post- 
 ing, if he pushed it so far. 
 
 Sleep was impossible. Black night favoured the tearing 
 fiends of shipwreck, and looking through a back window 
 over sea, Tinman saw with dismay huge towering ghost- 
 white wreaths, that travelled up swiftly on his level, and 
 lit the dark as they flung themselves in ruin, with a gasp, 
 across the mound of shingle at his feet. 
 
 He undressed. His sister called to Trim to know if they 
 were in danger. Clothed in his dressing-gown, he slipped 
 along to her door, to vociferate to her hoarsely that she 
 must not frighten the servants ; and one fine quality in the
 
 148 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 training of the couple, which had helped them to prosper, 
 a form of self-command, kept her quiet in her shivering 
 fears. 
 
 For a distraction Tinman pulled open the drawers of his 
 wardrobe. His glittering suit lay in one. And he thought, 
 " What wonderful changes there are in the world ! " mean- 
 ing, between a man exposed to the wrath of the elements, 
 and the same individual reading from vellum, in that suit, 
 in a palace, to the Head of all of us ! 
 
 The presumption is, that he must have often done it 
 before. The fact is established, that he did it that night. 
 The conclusion drawn from it is, that it must have given 
 him a sense of stability and safety. 
 
 At any rate, that he put on the suit is quite certain. 
 
 Probably it was a work of ingratiation and degrees ; a 
 feeling of the silk, a trying on to one leg, then a matching 
 of the fellow with it. you Kevolutionists ! who would 
 have no state, no ceremonial, and but one order of galli- 
 gaskins ! This man must have been wooed away in spirit 
 to forgetfulness of the tempest scourging his mighty neigh- 
 bour to a bigger and a farther leap ; he must have obtained 
 from the contemplation of himself in his suit that which 
 would be the saving of all men, in especial of his country- 
 men — imagination, namely. 
 
 Certain it is, as I have said, that he attired himself in 
 the suit. He covered it with his dressing-gown, and he lay 
 clown on his bed so garbed, to await the morrow's light, 
 being probably surprised by sleep acting upon fatigue and 
 nerves appeased and soothed. 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 Elba lay more sheltered from South-east winds under the 
 slopes of dowA than any other house in Crikswich. The 
 South-easter struck off the cliff to a martello tower and 
 the house on the beach, leaving Elba to repose, so that 
 the worst wind for that coast was one of the most comfort- 
 able for the owner of the hall, and he looked from his
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 1-19 
 
 upper window on a sea of crumbling grey chalk, lathed 
 unremittingly by the featureless piping gale, without feai 
 that his elevated grounds and walls would be open at high 
 tide to the ravage of water. Van Diemen had no idea of 
 calamity being at work on laud when he sat down to break- 
 fast. He told Herbert that he had prayed for poor fellows 
 at sea last night. Mary Fellingham and Annette were 
 anxious to finish breakfast and mount the down to gaze on 
 the sea, and receiving a caution from Van Diemen not to 
 go too near the cliff, they were inclined to think he was 
 needlessly timorous on their account. 
 
 Before they were half way through the meal, word was 
 brought in of great breaches in the shingle, and water cov- 
 ering the common. Van Diemen sent for his head gar- 
 dener, whose report of the state of things outside took the 
 comprehensive form of prophecy ; he predicted the fall of 
 the town. 
 
 " Nonsense ; what do you mean, John Scott ? " said Van 
 Diemen, eyeing his orderly breakfast table and the man in 
 turns. " It does n't seem like that, yet, does it ? " 
 
 " The house on the beach won't stand an hour longer, 
 sir." 
 
 " Who says so ? " 
 
 " It 's cut off from land now, and waves mast-high all 
 about it." 
 
 " Mart Tinman ! " cried Van Diemen. 
 
 All started ; all jumped up ; and there was a scampering 
 for hats and cloaks. Maids and men of the house ran in 
 and out confirming the news of inundation. Some in terror 
 for the fate of relatives, others pleasantly excited, glad of 
 catastrophe if it but killed monotony, for at any rate it was 
 a change of demons. 
 
 The view from the outer bank of Elba was of water cov- 
 ering the space of the common up to the stones of Marine 
 Parade and Belle Vue. But at a distance it had not the 
 appearance of angry water; the ladies thought it pictur- 
 esque, and the house on the beach was seen standing firm. 
 A second look showed the house completely isolated ; and 
 as the party led by Van Diemen circled hurriedly toward the 
 town, they discerned heavy cataracts of foam pouring down 
 the wrecked mound of shingle on either side of the house.
 
 150 THE HOUSE ON" THE BEACH 
 
 "Why, the outer wall 's washed away," said Van Dieinen. 
 
 " Are they in real danger ? " asked Annette, her teeth 
 chattering, and the cold and other matters at her heart 
 precluding for the moment such warmth of sympathy as 
 she hoped soon to feel for them. She was glad to hear her 
 father say: 
 
 " Oh ! they 're high and dry by this time. We shall 
 find them in the town. And we '11 take them in and com- 
 fort them. Ten to one they have n't breakfasted. They 
 sha'n't go to an inn while I 'm handy." 
 
 He dashed ahead, followed closely by Herbert. The 
 ladies beheld them talking to townsfolk as they passed 
 along the upper streets, and did not augur well of their 
 increase of speed. At the head of the town water was 
 visible, part of the way up the main street, and crossing it, 
 the ladies went swiftly under the old church, on the tower 
 of which were spectators, through the churchyard to a high 
 meadow that dropped to a stone wall fixed between the 
 meadow and a grass bank above the level of the road, 
 where now salt water beat and cast some spray. Not less 
 than a hundred people were in this field, among them 
 Crickledon and his wife. All were in silent watch of the 
 house on the beach, which was to east of the field, at a dis- 
 tance of perhaps three stonethrows. The scene was wild. 
 Continuously the torrents poured through the shingle-clefts, 
 and momently a thunder sounded, and high leapt a billow 
 that topped the house and folded it weltering. 
 
 "They tell me Mart Tinman's in the house," Van Die- 
 men roared to Herbert. He listened to further informa- 
 tion, and bellowed : " There 's no boat ! " 
 
 Herbert answered : " It must be a mistake, I think ; 
 here 's Crickledon says he had a warning before dawn and 
 managed to move most of his things, and the people over 
 there must have been awakened by the row in time to 
 get off." 
 
 _ " I can't hear a word you say ; " Van Diemen tried to 
 pitch his voice higher than the wind. "Did you say a 
 boat ? But where ? " 
 
 Crickledon the carpenter made signal to Herbert. They 
 stepped rapidly up the field. 
 
 " Women feels their weakness in times like these, my
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 151 
 
 dear," Mrs. Crickledon said to Annette. " What with our 
 clothes and our cowardice it do seem we 're not the equals 
 of men when winds is high." 
 
 Annette expressed the hope to her that she had not lost 
 much property. Mrs. Crickledon said she was glad to let 
 her know she was insured in an Accident Company. " But," 
 said she, "I do grieve for that poor man Tinman, if alive 
 he be, and comes ashore to find his property wrecked by 
 water. Bless ye ! he would n't insure against anything less 
 common than fire; and my house and Crickledon's shop 
 are floating timbers by this time ; and Marine Parade and 
 Belle Vue are safe to go. And it'll be a pretty welcome 
 for him, poor man, from his investments." 
 
 A cry at a tremendous blow of a wave on the doomed 
 house rose from the field. Back and front door were 
 broken down, and the force of water drove a round volume 
 through the channel, shaking the walls. 
 
 "I can't stand this," Van Diemen cried. 
 
 Annette was too late to hold him back. He ran up the 
 field. She was preparing to run after when Mrs. Crickle- 
 don touched her arm and implored her : " Interfere not 
 with men, but let them follow their judgements when it 's 
 seasons of mighty peril, my dear. If any one 's guilty it 's 
 me, for minding my husband of a boat that was launched 
 for a life-boat here, and would n't answer, and is at the 
 shed by the Crouch — left lying there, I've often said, as 
 if it was a-sulking. My goodness ! " 
 
 A linen sheet had been flung out from one of the win- 
 dows of the house on the beach, and flew loose and flapping 
 in sign of distress. 
 
 " It looks as if they had gone mad in that house, to have 
 waited so long for to declare theirselves, poor souls," Mrs. 
 Crickledon said, sighing. 
 
 She was assured right and left that signals had been seen 
 before, and some one stated that the cook of Mr. Tinman, 
 and also Mrs. Cavely, were on shore. 
 
 " It 's his furniture, poor man, he sticks to : and noth- 
 ing gets round the heart so!" resumed Mrs. Crickledon. 
 "There goes his bed-linen." 
 
 The sheet was whirled and snapped away by the wind ; 
 distended, doubled, like a flock of winter geese changeing
 
 152 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 alphabetical letters on the clouds, darted this way and that, 
 and finally outspread on the waters breaking against Marine 
 Parade. 
 
 " They cannot have thought there was positive danger 
 in remaining," said Annette. 
 
 "Mr. Tinman was waiting for the cheapest Insurance 
 office," a man remarked to Mrs. Crickledon. 
 
 " The least to pay is to the undertaker," she replied, 
 standing on tiptoe. " And it 's to be hoped he '11 pay more 
 to-day. If only those walls don't fall and stop the chance 
 of the boat to save him for more outlay, poor man ! What 
 boats was on the beach last night, high up and over the 
 ridge as they was, are planks by this time and only good 
 for carpenters." 
 
 " Half our town 's done for," one old man said ; and 
 another followed him in a pious tone : " From water we 
 came and to water we go." 
 
 They talked of ancient inroads of the sea, none so serious 
 as this threatened to be for them. The gallant solidity 
 of the house on the beach had withstood heavy gales : it 
 was a brave house. Heaven be thanked, no fishing boats 
 were out. Chiefly well-to-do people would be the suffer- 
 ers — an exceptional case. For it is the mysterious and 
 unexplained dispensation that: "Mostly heaven chastises 
 we." 
 
 A knot of excited gazers drew the rest of the field to 
 them. Mrs. Crickledon, on the edge of the crowd, reported 
 what was doing to Annette and Miss Fellingham. A boat 
 had been launched from the town. " Praise the Lord, 
 there 's none but coastguard in it ! " she exclaimed, and 
 excused herself for having her heart on her husband. 
 
 Annette was as deeply thankful that her father was not 
 in the boat. 
 
 They looked round and saw Herbert beside them. Van 
 Diemen was in the rear, panting, and straining his neck to 
 catch sight of the boat now pulling fast across a tumbled 
 sea to where Tinman himself was perceived, beckoning 
 them wildly, half out of one of the windows. 
 
 " A pound apiece to those fellows, and two if they land 
 Mart Tinman dry ; I 've promised it, and they '11 earn it. 
 Look at that ! Quick, you rascals ! "
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 153 
 
 To the east a portion of the house had fallen, melted 
 away. Where it stood, just below the line of shingle, it 
 was now like a structure wasting on a tormented submerged 
 reef. The whole line was given over to the waves. 
 
 " Where is his sister ? " Annette shrieked to her father. 
 
 " Safe ashore ; and one of the women with her. But 
 Mart Tinman would stop, the fool! to — poor old boy! — 
 save his papers and things ; and has n't a head to do it, 
 Martha Cavely tells me. They 're at him now ! They 've 
 got him in! There's another? Oh! it's a girl, who 
 would n't go and leave him. They '11 pull to the field here. 
 Brave lads ! By jingo, why ain't Englishmen always in 
 danger ! — eh ? if you want to see them shine ! " 
 
 " It 's little Jane," said Mi-s. Crickledon, who had been 
 joined by her husband, and now that she knew him to be 
 no longer in peril, kept her hand on him to restrain him, 
 just for comfort's sake. 
 
 The boat held under the lee of the house-wreck a minute ; 
 then, as if shooting a small rapid, came down on a wave 
 crowned with foam, to hurrahs from the townsmen. 
 
 " They 're all right," said Van Diemen, puffing as at a 
 mist before his eyes. " They '11 pull westward, with the 
 wind, and land him among vis. I remember when old Mart 
 and I were bathing once, he was younger than me, and 
 could n't swim much, and I saw him going down. It 'd 
 have been hard to see him washed off before one's eyes 
 thirty years afterwards. Here they come. He 's all right. 
 He 's in his dressing-gown ! " 
 
 The crowd made way for Mr. Van Diemen Smith to 
 welcome his friend. Two of the coastguard jumped out 
 and handed him to the dry bank, while Herbert, Van 
 Diemen, and Crickledon took him by hand and arm, and 
 hoisted him on to the flint wall, preparatory to his descent 
 into the field. In this exposed situation the wind, whose 
 pranks are endless when it is once up, seized and blew 
 Martin Tinman's dressing-gown wide as two violently flap- 
 ping wings on each side of him, and finally over his head. 
 
 Van Diemen turned a pair of stupefied flat eyes on 
 Herbert, who cast a sly look at the ladies. Tinman had 
 sprung down. But not before the world, in one tempestu- 
 ous glimpse, had caught sight of the Court suit.
 
 154 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 Perfect gravity greeted him from the crowd. 
 
 "Safe, old Mart! and glad to be able to say it," said 
 Van Diemen. 
 
 " We are so happy," said Annette. 
 
 "House, furniture, property, everything I possess!" 
 ejaculated Tinman, shivering. 
 
 "Fiddle, man; you want some hot breakfast in you. 
 Your sister has gone on to Elba. Come you too, old 
 Mart; and where 's that plucky little girl who stood by 
 you ? " 
 
 " Was there a girl ? " said Tinman. 
 
 " Yes, and there was a boy wanted to help." Van Diemen 
 pointed at Herbert. 
 
 Tinman looked, and piteously asked, "Have you exam- 
 ined Marine Parade and Belle Vue? It depends on the 
 tide!" 
 
 " Here is little Jane, sir," said Mrs. Crickledon. 
 
 "Pall in," Van Diemen said to little Jane. 
 
 The girl was bobbing curtseys to Annette, on her 
 introduction by Mrs. Crickledon. 
 
 "Martin, you stay at my house; you stay at Elba till 
 you get things comfortable about you, and then you shall 
 have the Crouch for a year, rent free. Eh, Netty ? " 
 
 Annette chimed in: "Anything we can do, anything. 
 Nothing can be too much." 
 
 Van Diemen was praising little Jane for her devotion to 
 her master. 
 
 " Master have been so kind to me," said little Jane. 
 
 " Now, march ; it is cold," Van Diemen gave the word, 
 and Herbert stood by Mary rather dejectedly, foreseeing 
 that his prospects at Elba were darkened. 
 
 " Now then, Mart, left leg forward," Van Diemen linked 
 his arm in his friend's. 
 
 " I must have a look," Tinman broke from him, and cast 
 a forlorn look of farewell on the last of the house on the 
 beach. 
 
 "You've got me left to you, old Mart; don't forget 
 that," said Van Diemen. 
 
 Tinman's chest fell. "Yes, yes," he responded. He 
 was touched. 
 
 " And I told those fellows if they landed you dry they
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 15& 
 
 should have — I *d give them double pay ; and I do believe 
 they 've earned their money." 
 
 " I don't think I 'm very wet, I 'm cold," said Tinman. 
 
 " You can't help being cold, so come along." 
 
 " But, Philip ! " Tinman lifted his voice ; " I 've lost 
 everything. I tried to save a little. I worked hard, I 
 exposed my life, and all in vain." 
 
 The voice of little Jane was heard. 
 
 " What 's the matter with the child ? " said Van Diemen. 
 
 Annette went up to her quietly. 
 
 But little Jane was addressing her master. 
 
 " Oh ! if you please, I did manage to save something 
 the last thing when the boat was at the window, and if 
 you please, sir, all the bundles is lost, but I saved you a 
 paper-cutter, and a letter Horse Guards, and here they are, 
 sir." 
 
 The grateful little creature drew the square letter and 
 paper-cutter from her bosom, and held them out to Mr. 
 Tinman. 
 
 It was a letter of the imposing size, with The Horse 
 Guards very distinctly inscribed on it in Tinman's best 
 round hand, to strike his vindictive spirit as positively 
 intended for transmission, and give him sight of his power 
 to wound if it pleased him ; — as it might. 
 
 " What ! " cried he, not clearly comprehending how much 
 her devotion had accomplished for him. 
 
 " A letter to the Horse Guards ! " cried Van Diemen. 
 
 " Here, give it me," said little Jane's master, and grasped 
 it nervously. 
 
 " What 's in that letter ? " Van Diemen asked. " Let 
 me look at that letter. Don't tell me it's private corre- 
 spondence." 
 
 " My dear Philip, dear friend, kind thanks ; it 's not a 
 letter," said Tinman. 
 
 " Not a letter ! why, I read the address, ' Horse Guards.' 
 I read it as it passed into your hands. Now, my man, one 
 look at that letter, or take the consequences." 
 
 " Kind thanks for your assistance, dear Philip, indeed ! 
 Oh! this ? Oh ! it 's nothing." He tore it in halves. 
 
 His face was of the winter sea-colour, with the chalk- 
 wash on it-
 
 156 THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH 
 
 " Tear again, and I shall know what to think of the 
 contents," Van Diemen frowned. " Let me see what you 've 
 said. You 've sworn you would do it, and there it is at 
 last, by miracle ; but let me see it and I '11 overlook it, and 
 you shall be my house-mate still. If not ! " 
 
 Tinman tore away. 
 
 "You mistake, you mistake, you 're entirely wrong," he 
 said, as he pursued with desperation his task of rendering 
 every word unreadable. 
 
 Van Diemen stood fronting him ; the accumulation of 
 stores of petty injuries and meannesses which he had en- 
 dured from this man, swelled under the whip of the con- 
 clusive exhibition of treachery. He looked so black that 
 Annette called "Papa!" 
 
 " Philip," said Tinman. " Philip! my best friend ! " 
 
 "Pooh, you're a poor creature. Come along and break- 
 fast at Elba, and you can sleep at the Crouch, and good- 
 night to you. Crickledon," he called to the houseless 
 couple, "you stop at Elba till I build you a shop." 
 
 With these words, Van Diemen led the way, walking 
 alone. Herbert was compelled to walk with Tinman. 
 
 Mary and Annette came behind, and Mary pinched An- 
 nette's arm so sharply that she must have cried out aloud 
 Viad it been possible for her to feel pain at that moment, 
 tnstead of a personal exultation, flying wildly over the 
 diash of astonishment and horror, like a sea-bird over the 
 foam. 
 
 In the first silent place they came to, Mary murmured 
 the words : " Little Jane." 
 
 Annette looked round at Mrs. Crickledon, who wound 
 up the procession, taking little Jane by the hand. Little 
 Jane was walking demurely, with a placid face. Annette 
 glanced at Tinman. Her excited feelings nearly rose to 
 a scream of laughter. For hours after, Mary had only to 
 say to her : " Little Jane," to produce the same convulsion. 
 It rolled her heart and senses in a headlong surge, shook 
 her to burning tears, and seemed to her ideas the most 
 wonderful running together of opposite things ever known 
 on this earth. The young lady was ashamed of her laugh- 
 ter ; but she was deeply indebted to it, for never was mind 
 made so clear by that beneficent exercise.
 
 FARINA
 
 FARINA 
 
 THE WHITE ROSE CLUB 
 
 In those lusty ages when the Kaisers lifted high the golden 
 goblet of Aachen, and drank, elbow upward, the green-eyed 
 wine of old romance, there lived, a bow-shot from the bones 
 of the Eleven Thousand Virgins and the Three Holy 
 Kings, a prosperous Rhinelander, by name Gottlieb Gro- 
 schen, or, as it was sometimes ennobled, Gottlieb von 
 Groschen ; than whom no wealthier merchant bartered for 
 the glory of his ancient mother-city, nor more honoured 
 burgess swallowed impartially red juice and white under 
 the shadow of his own fig-tree. 
 
 Vine-hills, among the hottest sun-bibbers of the Eheingaw, 
 glistened in the roll of Gottlieb's possessions ; corn- 
 acres below Cologne ; basalt-quarries about Linz ; mineral- 
 springs in Nassau, a legacy of the Romans to the genius 
 and enterprise of the first of German traders. He tjould 
 have bought up every hawking crag, owner and all, from 
 Hatto's Tower to Rheineck. Lore-ley, combing her yellow 
 locks against the night-cloud, beheld old Gottlieb* e rafts 
 endlessly stealing on the moonlight through the iron pass 
 she peoples above St. Goar. A wailful host were tbe 
 wives of his raftsmen widowed there by her watery music ! 
 
 This worthy citizen of Cologne held vasty manuscript 
 letters of the Kaiser addressed to him: 
 
 -< Dear Well-born son and Subject of mine, Gottlieb ! " 
 and he was easy with the proudest princes of the Holy 
 German Realm. For Gottlieb was a money-lender and an 
 honest man in one body. He laid out for the plenteous 
 harvests of usury, not pressing the seasons with too much
 
 160 FARINA 
 
 rigour. "I sow my seed in winter," said he, "and hope 
 to reap good profit in autumn ; but if the crop be scanty, 
 better let it lie and fatten the soil." 
 
 " Old earth 's the wisest creditor," he would add ; " she 
 never squeezes the sun, but just takes what he can give 
 her year by year, and so makes sure of good annual interest." 
 
 Therefore when people asked Gottlieb how he had risen 
 to such a pinnacle of fortune, the old merchant screwed his 
 eye into its wisest corner, and answered slyly, "Because 
 I 've always been a student of the heavenly bodies ; " a 
 communication which failed not to make the orbs and 
 systems objects of ardent popular worship in Cologne, 
 where the science was long since considered alchymic, 
 and still may be. 
 
 Seldom could the Kaiser go to war on Welschland with- 
 out first taking earnest counsel of his Well-born son and 
 Subject Gottlieb, and lightening his chests. Indeed the 
 imperial pastime must have ceased, and the Kaiser had 
 languished but for him. Cologne counted its illustrious 
 citizen something more than man. The burghers doffed 
 when he passed; and scampish leather-draggled urchins 
 gazed after him with preternatural respect on their hanging 
 chins, as if a gold-mine of great girth had walked through 
 the awe-struck game. 
 
 But, for the young men of Cologne he had a higher claim 
 to reverence as father of the fair Margarita, the White Rose 
 of Germany ; a noble maiden, peerless, and a jewel for 
 princes. 
 
 The devotion of these youths should give them a name in 
 chivalry. In her honour, daily and nightly, they earned 
 among themselves black bruises and paraded discoloured 
 countenances, with the humble hope to find it pleasing in 
 her sight. The tender fanatics went in bands up and down 
 Bhineland, challenging wayfarers and the peasantry with 
 staff and beaker to acknowledge the supremacy of their 
 mistress. Whoso of them journeyed into foreign parts, 
 wrote home boasting how many times his head had been 
 broken on behalf of the fair Margarita; and if this hap- 
 pened very often, a spirit of envy was created, which 
 compelled him, when he returned, to verify his prowess on 
 no less than a score of his rivals. Not to possess a beauty-
 
 THE WHITE ROSE CLUB 161 
 
 scar, as the wounds received in these endless combats were 
 called, became the sign of inferiority, so that much volun- 
 tary maiming was conjectured to be going on; and to obviate 
 this piece of treachery, minutes of fights were taken and 
 attested, setting forth that a certain glorious cut or crack 
 was honourably won in fair field ; on what occasion ; and 
 from whom ; every member of the White Eose Club keep- 
 ing his particular scroll, and, on days of festival and 
 holiday, wearing it haughtily in his helm. Strangers 
 entering Cologne were astonished at the hideous appearance 
 of the striplings, and thought they never had observed so 
 ugly a race ; but they were forced to admit the fine influence 
 of beauty on commerce, seeing that the consumption of beer 
 increased almost hourly. All Bavaria could not equal 
 Cologne for quantity made away with. 
 
 The chief members of the White Eose Club were Berthold 
 Schmidt, the rich goldsmith's son ; Dietrich Schill, son of 
 the imperial saddler ; Heinrich Abt, Franz Endermann, and 
 Ernst Geller, sous of chief burghers, each of whom carried 
 a yard-long scroll in his cap, and was too disfigured in 
 person for men to require an inspection of the document. 
 They were dangerous youths to meet, for the oaths, cere- 
 monies, and recantations they demanded from every way- 
 farer, under the rank of baron, were what few might 
 satisfactorily perform, if lovers of woman other than the 
 fair Margarita, or loyal husbands ; and what none save 
 trained heads and stomachs could withstand, however 
 naturally manful. The captain of the Club was he who 
 could drink most beer without intermediate sighing, and 
 whose face reckoned the proudest number of slices and 
 mixture of colours. The captaincy was most in dispute 
 between Dietrich Schill and Berthold Schmidt, who, in the 
 heat and constancy of contention, were gradually losing 
 likeness to man. " Good coin," they gloried to reflect, 
 "needs no stamp." 
 
 One youth in Cologne held out against the standing 
 tyranny, and chose to do beauty homage in his own fashion, 
 and at his leisure. It was Farina, and oaths were registered 
 against him over empty beer-barrels. An axiom of the 
 White Eose Club laid it down that everybody must be 
 baamoured of Margarita, and the conscience of the Club 
 
 U
 
 162 FARINA 
 
 made them trebly suspicious of those who were not 
 members. They had the consolation of knowing that 
 Farina was poor, but then he was affirmed a student of 
 Black Arts, and from such a one the worst might reason- 
 ably be feared. He might bewitch Margarita! 
 
 Dietrich Schill was deputed by the Club to sound the 
 White Rose herself on the subject of Farina, and one 
 afternoon in the vintage season, when she sat under the 
 hot vine-poles among maiden friends, eating ripe grapes, up 
 sauntered Dietrich, smirking, cap in hand, with his scroll 
 trailed behind him. 
 
 " Wilt thou ? " said Margarita, offering him a bunch. 
 
 " Unhappy villain that I am!" replied Dietrich, gesticu- 
 lating fox-like refusal ; " if I but accept a favour, I break 
 faith with the Club." 
 
 "Break it to pleasure me," said Margarita, smiling 
 wickedly. 
 
 Dietrich gasped. He stood on tiptoe to see if any of the 
 Club were by, and half-stretched out his hand. A mocking 
 laugh caused him to draw it back as if stung. The grapes 
 fell. Farina was at Margarita's feet offering them in 
 return. 
 
 " Wilt thou ? " said Margarita, with softer stress, and 
 slight excess of bloom in her cheeks. 
 
 Farina put the purple cluster to his breast, and clutched 
 them hard on his heart, still kneeling. 
 
 Margarita's brow and bosom seemed to be reflections of 
 the streaming crimson there. She shook her face to the 
 sky, and affected laughter at the symbol. Her companions 
 clapped hands. Farina's eyes yearned to her once, and 
 then he rose and joined in the pleasantry. 
 
 Fury helped Dietrich to forget his awkwardness. He 
 touched Farina on the shoulder with two fingers, and 
 muttered huskily: "The Club never allow that." 
 
 Farina bowed, as to thank him deeply for the rules of 
 the Club. "I am not a member, you know," said he, and 
 strolled to a seat close by Margarita. 
 
 Dietrich glared after him. As head of a Club he under- 
 stood the use of symbols. He had lost a splendid oppor- 
 tunity, and Farina had seized it. Farina had robbed 
 him.
 
 THE WHITE ROSE CLUB 163 
 
 "May I speak with Mistress Margarita?" inquired the 
 White Rose chief, in a ragged voice. 
 
 "Surely, Dietrich! do speak," said Margarita. 
 
 "Alone?" he continued. 
 
 "Is that allowed by the Club ?" said one of the young 
 girls, with a saucy glance. 
 
 Dietrich deigned no reply, but awaited Margarita's 
 decision. She hesitated a second; then stood up her full 
 height before him ; faced him steadily, and beckoned him 
 some steps up the vine-path. Dietrich bowed, and pass- 
 ing Farina, informed him that the Club would wring satis- 
 faction out of him for the insult. 
 
 Farina laughed, but answered, "Look, you of the Club! 
 beer-swilling has improved your manners as much as 
 fighting has beautified your faces. Go on ; drink and fight ! 
 but remember that the Kaiser 's coming, and fellows with 
 him who will not be bullied." 
 
 " What mean you ? " cried Dietrich, lurching round on 
 his enemy. 
 
 "Not so loud, friend," returned Farina. "Or do you 
 wish to frighten the maidens ? I mean this, that the Club 
 had better give as little offence as possible, and keep their 
 eyes as wide as they can, if they want to be of service to 
 Mistress Margarita." 
 
 Dietrich turned off with a grunt. 
 
 " Now ! " said Margarita. 
 
 She was tapping her foot. Dietrich grew unfaithful 
 to the Club, and looked at her longer than his mission 
 warranted. She was bright as the sunset gardens of the 
 Golden Apples. The braids of her yellow hair were bound 
 in wreaths, and on one side of her head a saffron crocus was 
 stuck with the bell downward. Sweetness, song, and wit 
 hung like dews of morning on her grape-stained lips. She 
 wore a scarlet corset with bands of black velvet across her 
 shoulders. The girlish gown was thin blue stuff, and fell 
 short over her firm-set feet, neatly cased in white leather 
 with buckles. There was witness in her limbs and the way 
 she carried her neck of an amiable, but capable, dragon, 
 ready, when aroused, to bristle up and guard the Golden 
 Apples against all save the rightful claimant. Yet her 
 nether lip and little white chin-ball had a dreamy droop;
 
 164 FARINA 
 
 her frank blue eyes went straight into the speaker: the 
 dragon slept. It was a dangerous charm. " For," says the 
 minnesinger, "what ornament more enchants us on a 
 young beauty than the soft slumber of a strength never 
 yet called forth, and that herself knows not of! It sings 
 double things to the heart of knighthood ; lures, and warns 
 us; woos, and threatens. 'Tis as nature, shining peace, 
 yet the mother of storm." 
 
 "There is no man," rapturously exclaims Heinrich von 
 der Jungferweide, "can resist the desire to win a sweet 
 treasure before which lies a dragon sleeping. The very 
 danger prattles promise." 
 
 But the dragon must really sleep, as with Margarita. 
 "A sham dragon, shamming sleep, has destroyed more 
 virgins than all the heathen emperors," says old Hans 
 Aepfelmann of Dlisseldorf. 
 
 Margarita's foot was tapping quicker. 
 " Speak, Dietrich ! " she said. 
 
 Dietrich declared to the Club that at this point he mut- 
 tered, " We love you. " Margarita was glad to believe he 
 had not spoken of himself. He then informed her of the 
 fears entertained by the Club, sworn to watch over and 
 protect her, regarding Farina's arts. 
 " And what fear you ? " said Margarita. 
 "We fear, sweet mistress, he may be in league with 
 Sathanas," replied Dietrich. 
 
 "Truly, then," said Margarita, "of all the youths in 
 Cologne he is the least like his confederate." 
 
 Dietrich gulped and winked, like a patient recovering 
 wry-faced from an abhorred potion. 
 
 " We have warned you, Fraulein Groschen ! " he ex- 
 claimed. "It now becomes our duty to see that you are 
 not snared." 
 
 Margarita reddened, and returned: "You are kind. But 
 I am a Christian maiden and not a Pagan soldan, and I do 
 not require a body of tawny guards at my heels." 
 
 Thereat she flung back to her companions, and began 
 wtaining her pretty mouth with grapes anew.
 
 THE TAPESTRY WORK 165 
 
 THE TAPESTRY WORK 
 
 Fair maids will have their hero in history. Siegfried 
 was Margarita's chosen. She sang of Siegfried all over 
 the house. " O the old days of Germany, when such a hero 
 walked ! " she sang. 
 
 "And who wins Margarita," mused Farina, "happier 
 than Siegfried, has in his arms Brunhild and Chrimhild 
 together ! " 
 
 Crowning the young girl's breast was a cameo, and the 
 skill of some cunning artist out of Welschland had wrought 
 on it the story of the Drachenfels. Her bosom heaved the 
 battle up and down. 
 
 This cameo was a north star to German manhood, but 
 caused many chaste expressions of abhorrence from Aunt 
 Lisbeth, Gottlieb's unmarried sister, who seemed instinc- 
 tively to take part with the Dragon. She was a frail- 
 fashioned little lady, with a face betokening the perpetual 
 smack of lemon, and who reigned in her brother's house- 
 hold when the good wife was gone. Margarita's robust- 
 ness was beginning to alarm and shock Aunt Lisbeth's 
 sealed stock of virtue. 
 
 " She must be watched, such a inadl as that," said Aunt 
 Lisbeth. " Ursula! what limbs she has! " 
 
 Margarita was watched; but the spy being neither foe 
 nor friend, nothing was discovered against her. This did 
 not satisfy Aunt Lisbeth, whose own suspicion was her 
 best witness. She allowed that Margarita dissembled well. 
 
 "But," said she to her niece, "though it is good in a girl 
 not to flaunt these naughtinesses in effrontery, I care for you 
 too much not to say — Be what you seem, my little one! " 
 
 " And that ami!" exclaimed Margarita, starting up and 
 towering. 
 
 "Bight good, my niece," Lisbeth squealed; "but now 
 Frau Groschen lies in God's acre, you owe your duty to 
 me, mind ! Did you confess last week ? " 
 
 "From beginning to end," replied Margarita.
 
 166 FARINA 
 
 Aunt Lisbeth fixed pious reproach on Margarita's cameo. 
 
 " And still you wear that thing '! " 
 
 u Why not ? " said Margarita. 
 
 "Girl! who would bid you set it in such a place save 
 Satan ? Oh, thou poor lost child ! that the eyes of the idle 
 youths may be drawn there! and thou become his snare to 
 others, Margarita! What was that Welsh wandering jug- 
 gler but the foul fiend himself, mayhap, thou maiden of 
 sin! They say he has been seen in Cologne lately. He 
 was swarthy as Satan and limped of one leg. Good Master 
 in heaven, protect us! it was Satan himself I could 
 swear!" 
 
 Aunt Lisbeth crossed brow and breast. 
 
 Margarita had commenced fingering the cameo, as if to 
 tear it away; but Aunt Lisbeth's finish made her laugh 
 outright. 
 
 "Where I see no harm, aunty, I shall think the good 
 God is," she answered; "and where I see there 's harm, I 
 shall think Satan lurks." 
 
 A simper of sour despair passed over Aunt Lisbeth. She 
 sighed, and was silent, being one of those very weak reeds 
 who are easily vanquished and never overcome. 
 
 "Let us go on with the Tapestry, child," said she. 
 
 Now, Margarita was ambitious of completing a certain 
 Tapestry for presentation to Kaiser Heinrich on his entry 
 into Cologne after his last campaign on the turbaned 
 Danube. The subject was again her beloved Siegfried 
 slaying the Dragon on Drachenfels. Whenever Aunt 
 Lisbeth indulged in any bitter virginity, and was over- 
 matched by Margarita's frank maidenhood, she hung out 
 this tapestry as a flag of truce. They were working it in 
 bits, not having contrivances to do it in a piece. Mar- 
 garita took Siegfried and Aunt Lisbeth the Dragon. They 
 shared the crag between them. A rough ish gleam of the 
 Rhine toward Nonnenwerth could be already made out, 
 Roland's Corner hanging like a sentinel across the chanting 
 island, as one top-heavy with long watch. 
 
 Aunt Lisbeth was a great proficient in the art, and had 
 taught Margarita. The little lady learnt it, with many 
 other gruesome matters, in the Palatine of Bohemia's 
 family. She usually talked of the spectres of Hollen-
 
 THE TAPESTRY WORK 167 
 
 bogenblitz Castle in the passing of the threads. Those 
 were dismal spectres in Bohemia, smelling of murder and 
 the charnel-breatb of midnight. They uttered noises that 
 wintered the blood, and revealed sights that stiffened hair 
 three feet long; ay, and kept it stiff! 
 
 Margarita placed herself on a settle by the low-arched 
 window, and Aunt Lisbeth sat facing her. An evening sun 
 blazoned the buttresses of the Cathedral, and shadowed 
 the work-frames of the peaceful couple to a temperate 
 light. Margarita unrolled a sampler sheathed with twists 
 of divers coloured threads, and was soon busy silver- 
 threading Siegfried's helm and horns. 
 
 "I told you of the steward, poor Kraut, did I not, 
 Child?" inquired Aunt Lisbeth, quietly clearing her 
 throat. 
 
 " Many times ! " said Margarita, and went on humming 
 over her knee: 
 
 " Her love was a Baron, 
 A Baron so bold ; 
 She loved him for love, 
 He loved her for gold." 
 
 "He must see for himself, and be satisfied," continued 
 Aunt Lisbeth; "and Holy Thomas to warn him for an 
 example! Poor Kraut!" 
 
 " Poor Kraut ! " echoed Margarita. 
 
 " The King loved wine, and the Knight loved wine, 
 And they loved the summer weather: 
 They might have loved each other well, 
 But for oue they loved together." 
 
 " You may say, poor Kraut, child ! " said Aunt Lisbeth. 
 "Well! his face was before that as red as this dragon's 
 jaw, and ever after he went about as white as a pullet/s 
 egg. That was something wonderful!" 
 
 " That was it ! " chimed Margarita. 
 
 " the King he loved his lawful wife, 
 The Knight a lawless lady : 
 And ten on one made ringing strife, 
 Beneath the forest shady." 
 
 "Fifty to one, child! " said Aunt Lisbeth. "You forget 
 the story. They made Kraut sit with them at the jabber-
 
 168 FARINA 
 
 ing feast, the only mortal there. The walls were full of 
 eye-sockets without eyes, but phosphorus instead, burning 
 blue and damp." 
 
 " Not to-night, aunty dear! It frightens me so," pleaded 
 Margarita, for she saw the dolor coming. 
 
 "Night! when it's broad mid-day, thou timid one! 
 Good heaven take pity on such as thou! The dish was 
 seven feet in length by four broad. Kraut measured it 
 with his eye, and never forgot it. Not he! When the 
 dish-cover was lifted, there he saw himself lying, boiled ! 
 
 " ' I did not feel uncomfortable then, ' Kraut told us. ' It 
 seemed natural.' 
 
 " His face, as it lay there, he says, was quite calm, only 
 a little wrinkled, and piggish-looking-like. There was the 
 mole on his chin, and the pucker under his left eyelid. 
 Well! the Baron carved. All the guests were greedy for a 
 piece of him. Some cried out for breast; some for toes. 
 It was shuddering cold to sit and hear that! The Baroness 
 said, 'Cheek!'" 
 
 "Ah!" shrieked Margarita, "that can I not bear! I 
 will not hear it, aunt; I will not!" 
 
 "Cheek!" Aunt Lisbeth reiterated, nodding to the floor. 
 
 Margarita put her fingers to her ears. 
 
 "Still, Kraut says, even then he felt nothing odd. Of 
 course he was horrified to be sitting with spectres as you 
 and I should be ; but the first tremble of it was over. He 
 had plunged into the bath of horrors, and there he was. 
 I 've heard that you must pronounce the names of the 
 Virgin and Trinity, sprinkling water round you all the 
 while for three minutes ; and if you do this without inter- 
 ruption, everything shall disappear. So they say. ' Oh! 
 dear heaven of mercy ! ' says Kraut, ' what I felt when 
 the Baron laid his long hunting-knife across my left 
 cheek!'" 
 
 Here Aunt Lisbeth lifted her eyes to dote upon Marga- 
 rita's fright. She was very displeased to find her niece, 
 with elbows on the window-sill and hands round her head, 
 quietly gazing into the street. 
 
 She said severely, " Where did you learn that song you 
 were last singing, Margarita ? Speak, thou girl! " 
 
 Margarita laughed.
 
 THE TAPESTRY WORK 169 
 
 " The thrush, and the lark, and the hlackbird, 
 They taught me how to sing : 
 And O that the hawk would lend his eye, 
 And the eagle lend his wing." 
 
 "1 will not hear these shameless songs," exclaimed Aunt 
 Lisbeth. 
 
 "For I would view the lands they view, 
 And be where they have been* 
 It is not enough to be singing 
 Eor ever in dells unseen ! " 
 
 A voice was heard applauding her. " Good ! right good ! 
 Carol again, Gretelchen ! my birdie ! " 
 
 Margarita turned, and beheld her father in the doorway. 
 She tripped towards him, and heartily gave him their 
 kiss of meeting. Gottlieb glanced at the helm of Siegfried. 
 
 "Guessed the work was going well; you sing so light- 
 somely to-day, Grete! Very pretty! And that's Drach- 
 enfels ? Bones of the Virgins ! what a bold fellow was 
 Siegfried, and a lucky, to have the neatest lass in Deutsch- 
 land in love with him. Well, we must marry her to Sieg- 
 fried after all, I believe ! Aha ? or somebody as good as 
 Siegfried. So chirrup on, my darling!" 
 
 "Aunt Lisbeth does not approve of my songs," replied 
 Margarita, untwisting some silver threads. 
 
 "Do thy father's command, girl! " said Aunt Lisbeth. 
 
 " And doing his command, 
 
 Should I do a thing of ill, — 
 I 'd rather die to his lovely face, 
 Than wanton at his will." 
 
 "There — there," said Aunt Lisbeth, straining out her 
 fingers; "you see, Gottlieb, what over-indulgence brings 
 her to. Not another girl in blessed Rhineland, and 
 Bohemia to boot, dared say such words ! — than — I can't 
 repeat them! — don't ask me! — She 's becoming a Frank - 
 ish girl ! " 
 
 " What ballad 's that ? " said Gottlieb, smiling. 
 
 "The Ballad of Holy Ottilia; and her lover was sold to 
 darkness. And she loved him — loved him — " 
 
 " As you love Siegfried, you little one ? " 
 
 "More, mv father; for she saw Winkried, and I never
 
 170 FARINA 
 
 saw Siegfried. Ah! if I had seen Siegfried! Never mind. 
 She loved him ; but she loved Virtue more. And Virtue is 
 the child of God, and the good God forgave her for loving 
 Winkried, the Devil's son, because she loved Virtue more, 
 and He rescued her as she was being dragged down —down 
 
 — down, and was half fainting with the smell of brimstone 
 
 — rescued her and had her carried into His Glory, head and 
 feet, on the wings of angels, before all men, as a hope to 
 little maidens. 
 
 " And when I thought that I was lost, 
 I found that I was saved, 
 And I was borne through blessed clouds, 
 Where the banners of bliss were waved." 
 
 "And so you think you, too, may fall in love with Devils* 
 sons, girl ? " was Aunt Lisbeth's comment. 
 
 "Do look at Lisbeth's Dragon, little Heart! it's so 
 like!" said Margarita to her father. 
 
 Old Gottlieb twitted his hose, and chuckled. 
 
 "She 's my girl! that may be seen," said he, patting her, 
 and wheezed up from his chair to waddle across to the 
 Dragon. But Aunt Lisbeth tartly turned the Dragon to 
 the wall. 
 
 " It is not yet finished, Gottlieb, and must not be looked 
 at," she interposed. "I will call for wood, and see to a 
 fire: these evenings of Spring wax cold: " and away whim- 
 pered Aunt Lisbeth. 
 
 Margarita sang : 
 
 " I with my playmates, 
 In riot and disorder, 
 Were gathering herb and blossom 
 Along the forest border." 
 
 "Thy mother's song, child of my heart! " said Gottlieb; 
 " but vex not good Lisbeth : she loves thee ! " 
 
 " And do yon think she loves me ? 
 And will you say 't is true ? 
 O, and will she have me, 
 When I come up to woo ? " 
 
 " Thou leaping doe ! thou chattering pie ! " said Gottlieb.
 
 THE TAPESTRY WORK 171 
 
 " She shall have ribbons and trinkets, 
 And shine like a morn of May, 
 When we are off to the little hill-church. 
 Our flowery bridal way." 
 
 " That she shall ; and something more!" cried Gottlieb. 
 "But, hark thee, Gretelchen; the Kaiser will be here in 
 three days. Thou dear one! had I not stored and hoarded 
 all for thee, I should now have my feet on a hearthstone 
 where even he might warm his boot. So get thy best 
 dresses and jewels in order, and look thyself, proud as any 
 in the land. A simple burgher's daughter now, Grete; 
 but so shalt thou not end, my buttei-fly, or there 's neither 
 worth nor wit in Gottlieb Groschen ! " 
 
 "Three days! " Margarita exclaimed; "and the helm not 
 finished, and the tapestry-pieces not sewed and joined, and 
 the water not shaded off. — Oh ! I must work night and 
 day." 
 
 "Child! I'll have no working at night! Your rosy 
 cheeks will soon be sucked out by oil-light, and you look 
 no better than poor tallow Court beauties — to say nothing 
 of the danger. This old house saw Charles the Great 
 embracing the chief magistrate of his liege city yonder. 
 Some swear he slept in it. He did not sneeze at smaller 
 chambers than our Kaisers abide. No gold ceilings with 
 cornice carvings, but plain wooden beams." 
 
 " Know that the men of great renowu 
 Were men of simple needs : 
 Bare to the Lord they laid them down, 
 And slept on mighty deeds.'' 
 
 " God wot, there 's no emptying thy store of ballads, 
 Grete: so much shall be said of thee. Yes; times are 
 changeing. We 're growing degenerate. Look at the men 
 of Linz now to what they were ! Would they have let the 
 lads of Andernach float down cabbage-stalks to them with- 
 out a shy back ? And why ? All because they funk that 
 brigand-beast Werner, who gets redemption from Laach, 
 hard by his hold, whenever he commits a crime worth 
 paying for. As for me, my timber and stuffs must come 
 down stream, and are too good for the nixen_ under Rhine, 
 or think you I would acknowledge him with a toll, the
 
 172 FARINA 
 
 hell-dog? Thunder and lightning! if old scores could be 
 rubbed out on his hide! " 
 
 Gottlieb whirled a thong-lashing arm in air, and groaned 
 of law and justice. What were they coming to! 
 
 Margarita softened the theme with a verse : 
 
 " And tho' to sting his enemy, 
 Is sweetness to the angry bee, 
 The angry bee must busy be, 
 Ere sweet of sweetness hiveth he." 
 
 The arch thrill of his daughter's voice tickled Gottlieb. 
 "That's it, birdie. You and the proverb are right. I 
 don't know which is best — 
 
 " Better hive 
 And keep alive 
 Than vengeance wake 
 With that you take." 
 
 A clatter in the cathedral square brought Gottlieb on his 
 legs to the window. It was a company of horsemen spark- 
 ling in harness. One trumpeter rode at the side of the 
 troop, and in front a standard-bearer, matted down the 
 chest with ochre beard, displayed aloft to the good citizens 
 of Cologne, three brown hawks, with birds in their beaks, 
 on an azure star-dotted field. 
 
 " Holy Cross ! " exclaimed Gottlieb, low in his throat ; 
 " the arms of Werner ! Where got he money to mount his 
 men ? Why, this is daring all Cologne in our very teeth ! 
 'Fend that he visit me now ! Ruin smokes in that ruffian's 
 track. I 've felt hot and cold by turns all day." 
 
 The horsemen came jingling carelessly along the street 
 in scattered twos and threes, laughing together, and sin- 
 gling out the maidens at the gable-shadowed windows with 
 hawking eyes. The good citizens of Cologne did not look 
 on them favourably. Some showed their backs and gruffly 
 banged their doors : others scowled and pocketed their fists : 
 not a few slunk into the side alleys like well-licked curs, 
 and scurried off with forebent knees. They were in truth 
 ferocious-looking fellows these trusty servants of the rob- 
 ber Baron Werner, of Werner's Eck, behind Andernach. 
 Leather, steel, and dust, clad them from head to foot; big 
 and black as bears ; wolf -eyed, fox-nosed. They glistened
 
 THE TAPESTRY WORK 173 
 
 bravely in the falling beams of the sun, and Margarita 
 thrust her fair braided yellow head a little forward over her 
 father's shoulder to catch the whole length of the grim 
 cavalcade. One of the troop was not long in discerning 
 the young beauty. He pointed her boldly out to a com- 
 rade, who approved his appetite, and referred her to a 
 third. The rest followed lead, and Margarita was as one 
 spell-struck when she became aware that all those hungry 
 eyes were preying on hers. Old Gottlieb was too full of 
 his own fears to think for her, and when he drew in his 
 head rather suddenly, it was with a dismal foreboding that 
 Werner's destination in Cologne was direct to the house of 
 Gottlieb Groschen, for purposes only too well to be divined. 
 
 "Devil's breeches!" muttered Gottlieb; "look again, 
 Grete, and see if that hell-troop stop the way outside." 
 
 Margarita's cheeks were overflowing with the offended 
 rose. 
 
 "I will not look at them again, father." 
 
 Gottlieb stared, and then patted her. 
 
 "I would I were a man, father! " 
 
 Gottlieb smiled, and stroked his beard. 
 
 "Oh! how I burn!" 
 
 And the girl shivered visibly. 
 
 "Grete! mind to be as much of a woman as you can, and 
 soon such raff as this you may sweep away, like cobwebs, 
 and no harm done." 
 
 He was startled by a violent thumping at the street-door, 
 and as brazen a blast as if the dead were being summoned. 
 Aunt Lisbeth entered, and flitted duskily round the room, 
 crying : 
 
 "We are lost: they are upon us! better death with 
 a bodkin! Never shall it be said of me; never! the 
 monsters ! " 
 
 Then admonishing them to lock, bar, bolt, and block up 
 every room in the house, Aunt Lisbeth perched herself 
 on the edge of a chair, and reversed the habits of the 
 screech-owl, by being silent when stationary. 
 
 " There 's nothing to fear for you, Lisbeth," said Gottlieb, 
 with discourteous emphasis. 
 
 " Gottlieb ! do you remember what happened at the siege 
 of Mainz ? and poor Marthe Herbstblum, who had hoped to
 
 174 FAKINA 
 
 die as she was; and Dame Altknopfchen, and Frau 
 Kaltblut, and the old baker, Hans Topf ' s sister, all of thern 
 as holy as abbesses, and that did not save them ! and noth- 
 ing will from such godless devourers." 
 
 Gottlieb was gone, having often before heard mention 
 of the calamity experienced by these fated women. 
 
 "Comfort thee, good heart, on my breast," said Marga- 
 rita, taking Lisbeth to that sweet nest of peace and 
 fortitude. 
 
 "Margarita! 'tis your doing! have I not said — lure 
 them not, for they swarm too early upon us! And here 
 they are! and, perhaps, in five minutes all will be over! 
 Herr Je ! — What, you are laughing ! Heavens of good- 
 ness, the girl is delighted ! " 
 
 Here a mocking ha — ha! accompanied by a thundering 
 smack at the door, shook the whole house, and again the 
 trumpet burst the ears with fury. 
 
 This summons, which seemed to Aunt Lisbeth final, 
 wrought a strange composure in her countenance. She 
 was very pale, but spread her dress decently, as if fear 
 had departed, and clasped her hands on her knees. 
 
 "The will of the Lord above must be done," said she; 
 " it is impious to complain when we are given into the 
 hand of the Philistines. Others have been martyred, and 
 were yet acceptable." 
 
 To this heroic speech she added, with cold energy : " Let 
 them come ! " 
 
 "Aunt," cried Margarita, "I hear my father's voice with 
 those men. Aunty ! I will not let him be alone. I must 
 go down to him. You will be safe here. I shall come to 
 you if there's cause for alarm." 
 
 And in spite of Aunt Lisbeth's astonished shriek of 
 remonstrance, she hurried off to rejoin Gottlieb,
 
 THE WAGER 175 
 
 THE WAGER 
 
 Ere Margarita had reached the landing of the stairs, she 
 repented her haste and shrank back. Wrapt in a thunder 
 of oaths, she distinguished: "'Tis the little maiden we 
 want; let 's salute her and begone! or cap your skull with 
 something thicker than you 've on it now, if you want a 
 whole one, happy father ! " 
 
 "Gottlieb von Groschen I am," answered her father, 
 "and the Kaiser " 
 
 "'S as fond of a pretty girl as we are! Down with her, 
 and no more drivelling! It's only for a moment, old 
 Measure and Scales ! " 
 
 "I tell you, rascals, I know your master, and if you 're 
 not punished for this, may I die a beggar! " exclaimed Gott- 
 lieb, jumping with rage. 
 
 "May you die as rich as an abbot! And so you will, if 
 you don't bring her down, for I 've sworn to see her; 
 there 's the end of it, man ! " 
 
 "I'll see, too, if the laws allow this villany!" cried 
 Gottlieb. " Insulting a peaceful citizen ! in his own house ! 
 a friend of your emperor! Gottlieb von Groschen! " 
 
 "Groschen? We 're cousins, then! You would n't shut 
 out your nearest kin? Devil's lightning! Don't you 
 know me? Pfennig? Von Pfennig! This here 's Heller: 
 that 's Zwanziger : all of us Vons, every soul ! You 're not 
 decided ? This '11 sharpen you, my jolly King Paunch ! " 
 
 And Margarita heard the ruffian step as if to get swing 
 for a blow. She hurried into the passage, and slipping in 
 front of her father, said to his assailant: 
 
 " You have asked for me ! I am here ! " 
 
 Her face was colourless, and her voice seemed to issue 
 from between a tightened cord. She stood with her 
 left foot a little in advance, and her whole body heaving 
 and quivering : her arms folded and pressed hard below her 
 bosom : her eyes dilated to a strong blue : her mouth ashy 
 white. A strange lustre, as of suppressed internal fire, 
 flickered over her.
 
 176 FARINA 
 
 " My name 's Schwartz Thier, and so 's my nature ! " 
 said the fellow with a grin; "but may I never smack lips 
 with a pretty girl again, if I harm such a young beauty as 
 this! Friendly dealing 's my plan o' life." 
 
 "Clear out of my house, then, fellow, and here 's money 
 for you, " said Gottlieb, displaying a wrathf ully -trembling 
 handful of coin. 
 
 " Pish! money ! forty times that would n't cover my bet! 
 And if it did? Shouldn't I be disgraced ? jeered at for a 
 sheep-heart? No! I'm no ninny, and not to be diddled. 
 
 I '11 talk to the young lady! Silence, out there! all 's 
 
 going proper : " this to his comrades through the door. 
 "So, my beautiful maiden! thus it stands: We saw you 
 at the window, looking like a fresh rose with a gold crown 
 on. Here are we poor fellows come to welcome the 
 Kaiser. I began to glorify you. ' Schwartz Thier! ' says 
 Henker Rothhals to me, ' I '11 wager you odds you don't 
 have a kiss of that fine girl within twenty minutes, count- 
 ing from the hand-smack! ' Done! was my word, and we 
 clapped our fists together. Now, you see, that 's straight- 
 forward! All I want is, not to lose my money and be 
 made a fool of — leaving alone that sugary mouth which 
 makes mine water;" and he drew the back of his hand 
 along his stubbled jaws: "So come! don't hesitate! no 
 harm to you, my beauty, but a compliment, and Schwartz 
 Thier 's your friend and anything else you like for ever 
 after. Come, time's up, pretty well." 
 
 Margarita leaned to her father a moment as if mortal 
 sickness had seized her. Then cramping her hands and 
 feet, she said in his ear, " Leave me to my own care ; go, 
 get the men to protect thee ; " and ordered Schwartz Thier 
 to open the door wide. 
 
 Seeing Gottlieb would not leave her, she joined her hands, 
 and begged him. "The good God will protect me! I will 
 overmatch these men. Look, my father! they dare not 
 strike me in the street : you they would fell without pity. 
 Go! what they dare in a house, they dare not in the 
 street." 
 
 Schwartz Thier had opened the door. At sight of Mar- 
 garita, the troop gave a shout. 
 
 "Now! on the door-step, full in view, my beauteous one!
 
 THE WAGER 177 
 
 that they may see what a lucky devil I am — and have no 
 doubts about the handing over." 
 
 Margarita looked behind. Gottlieb was still there, 
 every member of him quaking like a bog under a heavy 
 heel. She ran to him. " My father! I have a device! wilt 
 thou spoil it, and give me to this beast? You can do noth- 
 ing, nothing ! protect yourself and save me ! " 
 
 " Cologne ! broad day ! " muttered Gottlieb, as if the 
 enormity had prostrated his belief in facts; and moved 
 slowly back. 
 
 Margarita strode to the door-step. Schwartz Thier was 
 awaiting her, his arm circled out, and his leering face 
 ducked to a level with his victim's. This rough show of 
 gallantry proved costly to him. As he was gently closing 
 his iron hold about her, enjoying beforehand with grim 
 mouthridges the flatteries of triumph, Margarita shot past 
 him through the door, and was already twenty paces 
 beyond the troop before either of them thought of pursu- 
 ing her. At the first sound of a hoof, Henker Rothhals 
 seized the rider's bridle-rein, and roared: "Fair play for a 
 fair bet ! leave all to the Thier ! " 
 
 The Thier, when he had recovered from his amazement, 
 sought for old Gottlieb to give him a back-hit, as Margarita 
 foresaw that he would. Not finding him at hand, out lum- 
 bered the fellow as swiftly as his harness would allow, 
 and caught a glimpse of Margarita rapidly fleeting up the 
 cathedral square. 
 
 "Only five minutes, Schwartz Thier! " some of the troop 
 sung out. 
 
 "The devil can do his business in one," was the retort, 
 and Schwartz Thier swung himself on his broad-backed 
 charger, and gored the fine beast till she rattled out a blast 
 of sparkles from the flint. 
 
 In a minute he drew up in front of Margarita. 
 
 "So! you prefer settling this business in the square. 
 Good ! my choice sweetheart ! " and he sprang to her 
 side. 
 
 The act of flight had touched the young girl's heart with 
 the spirit of flight. She crouched like a winded hare under 
 the nose of the hound, and covered her face with her two 
 hands. Margarita was no wisp in weight, but Schwartz
 
 178 FARINA 
 
 Thier had her aloft in his arm as easily as if he had tossed 
 up a kerchief. 
 
 " Look all, and witness ! " he shouted, lifting the other 
 arm. 
 
 Henker Rothhals and the rest of the troop looked, as 
 they came trotting to the scene, with the coolness of 
 umpires: but they witnessed something other than what 
 Schwartz Thier proposed. This was the sight of a formid- 
 able staff, whirling an unfriendly halo over the head of the 
 Thier, and descending on it with such honest intent to 
 confound and overthrow him, that the Thier succumbed to 
 its force without argument, and the square echoed blow 
 and fall simultaneously. At the same time the wielder of 
 this sound piece of logic seized Margarita, and raised a 
 shout in the square for all true men to stand by him in 
 rescuing a maiden from the clutch of brigands and rav- 
 ishers. A crowd was collecting, but seemed to consider 
 the circle now formed by the horsemen as in a manner 
 charmed, for only one, a fair slender youth, came forward, 
 and ranged himself beside the stranger. 
 
 "Take thou the maiden: I'll keep to the staff," said 
 this latter, stumbling over his speech as if he was in a 
 foreign land among old roots and wolf pits which had 
 already shaken out a few of his teeth, and made him 
 cautious about the remainder. 
 
 "Can it be Margarita! " exclaimed the youth, bending to 
 her, and calling to her : "Margarita! Fraulein Groschen! " 
 
 She opened her eyes, shuddered, and said: "I was not 
 afraid! Am I safe?" 
 
 "Safe while I have life, and this good friend." 
 
 " Where is my father ? " 
 
 "I have not seen him." 
 
 " And you — who are you ? Do I owe this to you ? " 
 
 "Oh! no! no! Me you owe nothing." 
 
 Margarita gazed hurriedly round, and at her feet there 
 lay the Thier with his steel-cap shining in dints, and three 
 rivulets of blood coursing down his mottled forehead. She 
 looked again at the youth, and a blush of recognition gave 
 life to her cheeks. 
 
 "I did not know you. Pardon me. Farina! what 
 thanks can reward such courage ' Tell me ! shall we go ? "
 
 THE WAGER 179 
 
 The youth eyed her an instant, but recovering himself, 
 took, a rapid survey, and called to the stranger to follow 
 and help give the young maiden safe conduct home. 
 
 Just then Henker Rothhals bellowed, "Time's up!" 
 He was answered by a chorus of agreement from the troop. 
 They had hitherto patiently acted their parts as spectators, 
 immovable on their horses. The assault on the Thier was 
 all in the play, and a visible interference of fortune in 
 favour of Henker Rothhals. Now general commotion 
 shuttled them, and the stranger's keen hazel eyes read their 
 intentions rightly when he lifted his redoubtable staff in 
 preparation for another mighty swoop, this time defensive. 
 Rothhals, and half-a-dozen others, with a war-cry of curses, 
 spurred their steeds at once to ride him down. They had 
 not reckoned the length and good-will of their antagonist's 
 weapon. Scarce were they in motion, when round it 
 whizzed, grazing the nostrils of their horses with a precision 
 that argued practice in the feat, and unhorsing two, Roth- 
 hals among the number. He dropped heavily on his head, 
 and showed signs of being as incapable of combat as the 
 Thier. A cheer burst from the crowd, but fell short. The 
 foremost of their number was struck flat to the earth by a 
 fellow of the troop. 
 
 Calling on St. George, his patron saint, the stranger 
 began systematically to make a clear ring in his path for- 
 ward. Several of the horsemen essayed a cut at his arm 
 with their long double-handed swords, but the horses could 
 not be brought a second time to the edge of the magic 
 circle; and the blood of these warriors being thoroughly 
 up, they now came at him on foot. In their rage they 
 would have made short work with the three, in spite of 
 the magistracy of Cologne, had they not been arrested by 
 cries of " Werner ! Werner ! " 
 
 At the South-west end of the square, looking Rhine- 
 wards, rode the marauder Baron, in full armour, helm and 
 hauberk, with a single retainer in his rear. He had 
 apparently caught sight of the brawl, and, either because 
 he distinguished his own men, or was seeking his nata^l 
 element, hastened up for his share in it, which was usually 
 that of the king of beasts. His first call was for Schwartz 
 Thier. The men made way, and he beheld his man in no
 
 180 FAKINA 
 
 condition to make military responses. He shouted for 
 Henker Rothhals, and again the men opened their ranks 
 mutely, exhibiting the two stretched out in diverse direc- 
 tions, with their feet slanting to a common point. The 
 Baron glared ; then caught off his mailed glove, and thrust 
 it between his teeth. A rasping gurgle of oaths was all 
 they heard, and presently surged up, — 
 
 " Who was it ? " 
 
 Margarita's eyes were shut. She opened them fasci- 
 nated with horror. There was an unearthly awful and comic 
 mixture of sounds in Werner's querulous fury, that was 
 like the noise of a complaining bear, rolling up from 
 hollow-chested menace to yawning lament. Never in her 
 life had Margarita such a shock of fear. The half gasp of 
 a laugh broke on her trembling lips. She stared at Wer- 
 ner, and was falling; but Farina's arm clung instantly 
 round her waist. The stranger caught up her laugh, loud 
 and hearty. 
 
 "As for who did it, Sir Baron," he cried, in a cheery 
 tone, " I am the man ! As you may like to know why — 
 and that 's due to you and me both of us — all I can say is, 
 the Black Muzzle yonder lying got his settler for merry- 
 making with this peaceful maiden here, without her con- 
 sent — an offence in my green island they reckon a crack 
 o' the sconce light basting for, I warrant all company 
 present," and he nodded sharply about. "As for the other 
 there, who looks as if a rope had been round his neck once 
 and shirked its duty, he counts his wages for helping the 
 devil in his business, as will any other lad here who likes 
 to come on and try." 
 
 Werner himself, probably, would have given him the 
 work he wanted; but his eye had sidled a moment over 
 Margarita, and the hardly -suppressed applause of the crowd 
 at the stranger's speech failed to bring his ire into action 
 this solitary time. 
 
 " Who is the maiden ? " he asked aloud. 
 
 "Fraulein von Groschen," replied Farina. 
 
 "Von Groschen! Von Groschen! the daughter of Gottlieb 
 Groschen? — Rascals!" roared the Baron, turning on his 
 men, and out poured a mud-spring of filthy oaths and 
 threats, which caused Henker Rothhals, who had opened
 
 THE WAGER 181 
 
 his eyes, to close them again, as if he had already gone to 
 the place of heat. 
 
 "Only lend me thy staff, friend," cried Werner. 
 
 "Not I! thwack 'em with your own wood," replied the 
 stranger, and fell back a leg. 
 
 Werner knotted his stringy brows, and seemed torn to 
 pieces with the different pulling tides of his wrath He 
 grasped the mane of his horse and flung abroad handfuls, 
 till the splendid animal reared in agony. 
 
 "You shall none of you live over this night, villains! 
 I '11 hang you, every hag's son ! My last orders were, — 
 Keep quiet in the city, ye devil's brood. Take that! and 
 that!" laying at them with his bare sword. "Off with 
 you, and carry these two pigs out of sight quickly, or I '11 
 have their heads, and make sure o' them." 
 
 The latter injunction sprang from policy, for at the head 
 of the chief street there was a glitter of the city guard, 
 marching with shouldered spears. 
 
 "Maiden," said Werner, with a bull's bow, "let me 
 conduct thee to thy father." 
 
 Margarita did not reply; but gave her hand to Farina, 
 and took a step closer to the stranger. 
 
 Werner's brows grew black. 
 
 "Enough to have saved you, fair maid," he muttered, 
 hoarsely. "Gratitude never was a woman's gift. Say to 
 your father that I shall make excuses to him for the con- 
 duct of my men." 
 
 Whereupon, casting a look of leisurely scorn towards the 
 guard coming up in the last beams of day, the Baron 
 shrugged his huge shoulders to an altitude expressing the 
 various contemptuous shades of feudal coxcombry, stuck 
 one leather-ruffled arm in his side, and jolted off at an easy 
 pace. 
 
 "Amen!" ejaculated the stranger, leaning on his staff. 
 "There are Barons in my old land; but never a brute beast 
 in harness." 
 
 Margarita stood before him, and took his two hands. 
 
 " You will come with me to my father ! He will thank 
 you. I cannot. You will come ? " 
 
 Tears and a sob of relief started from her. 
 
 The city guard, on seeing Werner's redoubtable back
 
 182 FARINA 
 
 turned, had adopted double time, and now came panting 
 up, while the stranger bent smiling under a fresh overflow 
 of innocent caresses. Margarita was caught to her father's 
 breast. 
 
 "You shall have vengeance for this, sweet chuck," cried 
 old Gottlieb in the intervals of his hugs. 
 
 " Fear not, my father; they are punished:" and Margarita 
 related the story of the stranger's prowess, elevating him 
 into a second Siegfried. The guard huzzaed him, but did 
 not pursue the Baron. 
 
 Old Gottlieb, without hesitation, saluted the astonished 
 champion with a kiss on either cheek. 
 
 "My best friend! You have saved my daughter from 
 indignity ! Come with us home, if you can believe that a 
 home where the wolves come daring us, dragging our dear 
 ones from our very doorsteps. Come ! that we may thank 
 you under a roof at least. My little daughter! Is she 
 not a brave lass ? " 
 
 "She's nothing less than the white rose of Germany," 
 said the stranger, with a good bend of the shoulders to 
 Margarita. 
 
 " So she 's called," exclaimed Gottlieb; "she 's worthy to 
 be a man ! " 
 
 " Men would be the losers, then, more than they could 
 afford," replied the stranger, with a ringing laugh. 
 
 "Come, good friend," said Gottlieb; "you must need 
 refreshment. Prove you are a true hero by your appetite. 
 As Charles the Great said to Archbishop Turpin, ' I con- 
 quered the world because Nature gave me a gizzard; for 
 everywhere the badge of subjection is a poor stomach.' 
 Come, all! A day well ended, notwithstanding!"
 
 THE SILVER ARROW 183 
 
 THE SILVER ARROW 
 
 At the threshold of Gottlieb's house a number of the 
 chief burgesses of Cologne had corporated spontaneously 
 to condole with him. As he came near, they raised a hub- 
 bub of gratulation. Strong were the expressions of abhor- 
 rence and disgust of Werner's troop in which these 
 excellent citizens clothed their outraged feelings ; for the 
 insult to Gottlieb was the insult of all. The Rhine- 
 stream taxes were provoking enough to endure; but that 
 the licence of these free-booting bands should extend to the 
 homes of free and peaceful men, loyal subjects of the 
 Emperor, was a sign that the evil had reached from pricks 
 to pokes, as the saying went, and must now be met as 
 became burgesses of ancient Cologne, and by joint action 
 destroyed. 
 
 " In! in, all of you! " said Gottlieb, broadening his smile 
 to suit the many. " We '11 talk about that in-doors. Mean- 
 time, I 've got a hero to introduce to you : flesh and blood ! 
 no old woman's coin and young girl's dream-o'-day: the 
 honest thing, and a rarity, my masters. All that over 
 some good Rhine-juice from above Bacharach. In, and 
 welcome, friends ! " 
 
 Gottlieb drew the stranger along with him under the 
 carved old oak-wood portals, and the rest paired, and 
 reverentially entered in his wake. Margarita, to make up 
 for this want of courtesy, formed herself the last of the 
 procession. She may have had another motive, for she 
 took occasion there to whisper something to Farina, bring- 
 ing sun and cloud over his countenance in rapid flushes. 
 He seemed to remonstrate in dumb show; but she, with 
 an attitude of silence, signified her wish to seal the conver- 
 sation, and he drooped again. On the doorstep she paused 
 a moment, and hung her head pensively, as if moved by a 
 reminiscence. The youth had hurried away some strides. 
 Margarita looked after him. His arms were straightened 
 to his flanks, his hands clenched, and straining out from 
 the wrist. He had the aspect of one tugging against the
 
 184 FARINA 
 
 restraint of a chain that sullenly let out link by link to 
 his whole force. 
 
 "Farina! " she called; and wound him back with a run. 
 "Farina! You do not think me ungrateful? I could not 
 tell my father in the crowd what you did for me. He shall 
 know. He will thank you. He does not understand you 
 now, Farina. He will. Look not so sorrowful. So 
 much I would say to you." 
 
 So much was rushing on her mind, that her maidenly 
 heart became unruly, and warned her to beware. 
 
 The youth stood as if listening to a nightingale of the 
 old woods, after the first sweet stress of her voice was in 
 his ear. When she ceased, he gazed into her eyes. They 
 were no longer deep and calm like forest lakes ; the tender- 
 glowing blue quivered, as with a spark of the young girl's 
 soul, in the beams of the moon then rising. 
 
 "Oh, Margarita!" said the youth, intones that sank to 
 sighs: "what am I to win your thanks, though it were my 
 life for such a boon ! " 
 
 He took her hand, and she did not withdraw it. Twice 
 his lips dwelt upon those pure fingers. 
 
 " Margarita: you forgive me ? I have been so long with- 
 out hope. I have kissed your hand, dearest of God's 
 angel 
 
 i » 
 
 She gently restrained the full white hand in his pres- 
 sure. 
 
 " Margarita ! I have thought never before death to have 
 had this sacred bliss. I am guerdoned in advance for 
 every grief coming before death." 
 
 She dropped on him one look of a confiding softness 
 that was to the youth like the opened gate of the inno- 
 cent garden of her heart. 
 
 " You pardon me, Margarita ? I may call you my be- 
 loved ? strive, wait, pray, hope, for you, my star of life ? " 
 
 Her face was so sweet a charity ! 
 
 "Dear love! one word! — or say nothing, but remain, 
 and move not. So beautiful you are ! Oh, might I kneel 
 to you here; dote on you; worship this white hand for 
 
 ever." 
 
 The colour had passed out of her cheeks like a blissful 
 western red leaving rich paleness in the sky; and with
 
 THE SILVER ARROW 185 
 
 her clear brows levelled at him, her bosom lifting more and 
 more rapidly, she struggled against the charm that was on 
 her, and at last released her hand. 
 
 "I must go. I cannot stay. Pardon you ? Who might 
 not be proud of your love ! — Farewell ! " 
 
 She turned to move away, but lingered a step from him, 
 hastily touching her bosom and either hand, as if to feel 
 for a brooch or a ring. Then she blushed, drew the silver 
 arrow from the gathered gold-shot braids above her neck, 
 held it out to him, and was gone. 
 
 Farina clutched the treasure, and reeled into the street. 
 Half-a-dozen neighbours were grouped by the door. 
 
 " What 's the matter in Master Groschen's house now ? " 
 one asked, as he plunged into the midst of them. 
 
 " Matter ?" quoth the joy-drunken youth, catching at the 
 word, and mused off into raptures ; " there never was such 
 happiness! 'Tis paradise within, exile without. But 
 what exile ! A star ever in the heavens to lighten the road 
 and cheer the path of the banished one; " and he loosened 
 his vest and hugged the cold shaft on his breast. 
 
 "What are you talking and capering at, fellow?" ex- 
 claimed another. "Can't you answer about those shrieks, 
 like a Christian, you that have just come out of the 
 house ? Why, there 's shrieking now ! It's a woman. 
 Thousand thunders! it sounds like the Frau Lisbeth's 
 voice. What can be happening to her?" 
 
 " Perhaps she 's on fire," was coolly suggested between 
 two or three. 
 
 " Pity to see the old house burnt," remarked one. 
 
 " House ! The woman, man ! the woman ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " replied the other, an ancient inhabitant of Co- 
 logne, shaking his head, " the house is oldest ! " 
 
 Farina, now recovering his senses, heard shrieks that he 
 recognized as possible in the case of Aunt Lisbeth dreading 
 the wickedness of an opposing sex, and alarmed by the 
 inrush of old Gottlieb's numerous guests. To confirm him, 
 she soon appeared, and hung herself halfway out of one of 
 the upper windows, calling desperately to St. Ursula for 
 aid. He thanked the old lady in his heart for giving him a 
 pretext to enter Paradise again ; but before even love could 
 speed him, Frau Lisbeth was seized and dragged remorse*
 
 186 FARINA 
 
 lessly out of sight, and he and the rosy room darkened 
 together. 
 
 Farina twice strode off to the Khine-stream ; as many 
 times he returned. It was hard to be away from her. It 
 was harder to be near and not close. His heart flamed 
 into jealousy of the stranger. Everything threatened to 
 overturn his slight but lofty structure of bliss so suddenly 
 shot into the heavens. He had but to remember that his 
 hand was on the silver arrow, and a radiance broke upon 
 his countenance, and a calm fell upon his breast. "It 
 was a plight of her troth to me," mused the youth. " She 
 loves me ! She would not trust her frank heart to speak. 
 Oh, generous young girl! what am I to dare hope for such 
 a prize ? for I never can be worthy. And she is one who, 
 giving her heart, gives it all. Do I not know her ? How 
 lovely she looked thanking the stranger ! The blue of her 
 eyes, the warm-lighted blue, seemed to grow full on the 
 closing lids, like heaven's gratitude. Her beauty is won- 
 derful. What wonder, then, if he loves her ? I should 
 think him a squire in his degree. There are squires of 
 high birth and low." 
 
 So mused Farina with his arms folded and his legs crossed 
 in the shadow of Margarita's chamber. Gradually he fell 
 into a kind of hazy doze. The houses became branded with 
 silver arrows. All up the Cathedral stone was a glitter, and 
 dance, and quiver of them. In the sky mazed confusion of 
 arrowy flights and falls. Farina beheld himself in the ser- 
 vice of the Emperor watching these signs, and expecting 
 on the morrow to win glory and a name for Margarita. 
 Glory and the name now won, old Gottlieb was just on the 
 point of paternally blessing them, when a rude pat aroused 
 him from the delicious moon-dream. 
 
 " Hero by day ! house-guard by night ! That tells a 
 tale," said a cheerful voice. 
 
 The moon was shining down the Cathedral square and 
 street, and Farina saw the stranger standing solid and ruddy 
 before him. He was at first prompted to resent such familiar 
 handling, but the stranger's face was of that bland honest 
 nature which, like the sun, wins everywhere back a reflec- 
 tion of its own kindliness. 
 
 " You are right," replied Farina ; " so it is ! "
 
 THE SILVER ARROW 187 
 
 "Pretty wines inside there, and a rare young maiden. 
 She has a throat like a nightingale, and more ballads at 
 command than a piper's wallet. Now, if I had n't a wife 
 at home " 
 
 "You're married?" cried Farina, seizing the stranger's 
 hand. 
 
 " Surely ; and my lass can say something for herself on 
 the score of brave looks, as well as the best of your Ger- 
 main maids here, trust me." 
 
 Farina repressed an inclination to perform a few of those 
 antics which violent joy excites, and after rushing away 
 and back, determined to give his secret to the stranger. 
 
 "Look," said he in a whisper, that opens the private 
 doors of a confidence. 
 
 But the stranger repeated the same word still more 
 earnestly, and brought Farina's eyes on a couple of dark 
 figures moving under the Cathedral. 
 
 "Some lamb's at stake when the wolves are prowling," 
 he added : " 't is now two hours to the midnight. I doubt 
 if our day's work be over till we hear the chime, friend." 
 
 " What interest do you take in the people of this house 
 that you watch over them thus ? " asked Farina. 
 
 The stranger muffled a laugh in his beard. 
 
 " An odd question, good sooth. Why, in the first place, 
 we like well whatso we have done good work for. That 
 goes for something. In the second, I 've broken bread in 
 this house. Put down that in the reckoning. In the third ; 
 well ! in the third, add up all together, and the sum total 's 
 at your service, young sir." 
 
 Farina marked him closely. There was not a spot on 
 his face for guile to lurk in, or suspicion to fasten on. He 
 caught the stranger's hand. 
 
 " You called me friend just now. Make me your friend. 
 Look, I was going to say : I love this maiden ! I would die 
 for her. I have loved her long. This night she has given 
 me a witness that my love is not vain. I am poor. She is 
 rich. I am poor, I said, and feel richer than the Kaiser 
 with this she has given me ! Look, it is what our German 
 girls slide in their back-hair, this silver arrow ! " 
 
 "A very pretty piece of heathenish wear!" exclaimed 
 the stranger.
 
 188 FARINA 
 
 " Then, I was going to say — tell me, friend, of a way to 
 win honour and wealth quickly ; I care not at how rare a 
 risk. Only to wealth, or high baronry, will her father give 
 her ! " 
 
 The stranger buzzed on his moustache in a pause of cool 
 pity, such as elders assume when young men talk of con- 
 quering the world for their mistresses : and in truth it is a 
 calm of mind well won ! 
 
 " Things look so brisk at home here in the matter of the 
 maiden, that I should say, wait a while and watch your 
 chance. But you 're a boy of pluck : I serve in the Kaiser's 
 army, under my lord : the Kaiser will be here in three days. 
 If you're of that mind then, I doubt little you may get 
 posted well : but, look again ! there 's a ripe brew yonder. 
 Marry, you may win your spurs this night even; who 
 knows? — 'Slife! there's a tall fellow joining those two 
 lurkers." 
 
 "Can you see into the murk shadow, Sir Squire ?" 
 
 " Ay ! thanks to your Styrian dungeons, where I passed 
 a year's apprenticeship: 
 
 'I learnt to watch the rats and mice 
 At play, with never a candle-end. 
 They play'd so well ; they sang so nice ; 
 
 They dubh'd me comrade ; called me friend ! ' 
 
 So says the ballad of our red-beard king's captivity. All 
 evil has a good : 
 
 ' When our toes and chins are up, 
 Poison plants make sweetest cnp : * 
 
 as the old wives mumble to us when we 're sick. Heigho ! 
 would I were in the little island well home again, though 
 that were just their song of welcome to me, as I am a 
 Christian." 
 
 " Tell me your name, friend," said Farina. 
 
 " Guy 's my name, young man : Goshawk 's my title. Guy 
 the Goshawk ! so they called me in my merry land. The 
 cap sticks when it no longer fits. Then I drove the arrow, 
 and was down on my enemy ere he could ruffle a feather. 
 Uow, what would be my nickname ?
 
 TIIE SILVER ARROW 189 
 
 ' A change so sad, and a change so had, 
 
 Might set both Christian and heathen a-sighing: 
 Change is a curse, for it 's all for the worse : 
 Age creeps up, and youth is flying ! ' 
 
 and so on, with the old song. But here am I, and yonder 'a 
 a game that wants harrying ; so we '11 just begin to nose 
 about them a bit." 
 
 He crossed to the other side of the street, and Farina 
 followed out of the moonlight. The two figures and the 
 taller one were evidently observing them; for they also 
 changed their position and passed behind an angle of the 
 Cathedral. 
 
 " Tell me how the streets cross all round the Cathedral ; 
 you know the city," said the stranger, holding out his 
 hand. 
 
 Farina traced with his finger a rough map of the streets 
 on the stranger's hand. 
 
 "Good! that's how my lord always marks the battle 
 field, and makes me show him the enemy's posts. For- 
 ward, this way ! " 
 
 He turned from the Cathedral, and both slid along close 
 under the eaves and front hangings of the houses. Neither 
 spoke. Farina felt that he was in the hands of a skilful 
 captain, and only regretted the want of a weapon to make 
 harvest of the intended surprise ; for he judged clearly that 
 those were fellows of Werner's band on the look-out. They 
 wound down numberless intersections of narrow streets with 
 irregular-built houses standing or leaning wry-faced in row, 
 here a quaint-beamed cottage, there almost a mansion with 
 gilt arms, brackets, and devices. Oil-lamps unlit hung at 
 intervals by the corners, near a pale Christ on crucifix. 
 Across the passages they hung alight. The passages and 
 alleys were too dusky and close for the moon in her bright- 
 est ardour to penetrate ; down the streets a slender lane of 
 white beams could steal: "In all conscience," as the good 
 citizens of Cologne declared, " enough for those heathen 
 hounds and sons of the sinful who are abroad when God's 
 own blessed lamp is out." So, when there was a moon, the 
 expense of oil was saved to the Cologne treasury, thereby 
 satisfying the virtuous. 
 
 After incessant doubling here and there, listening to
 
 190 FARINA 
 
 footfalls, and themselves eluding a chase which their sus- 
 picious movements aroused, they came upon the Ehine. A 
 full flood of moonlight burnished the knightly river in 
 glittering scales, and plates, and rings, as headlong it rolled 
 seaward on from under crag and banner of old chivalry and 
 rapine. Both greeted the scene with a burst of pleasure. 
 The gray mist of flats on the south side glimmered delight- 
 ful to their sight, coming from that drowsy crowd and press 
 of habitations ; but the solemn glory of the river, delaying 
 not, heedless, impassioned — pouring on in some sublime 
 conference between it and heaven to the great marriage of 
 waters, deeply shook Farina's enamoured heart. The youth 
 could not restrain his tears, as if a magic wand had touched 
 him. He trembled with love ; and that delicate bliss which 
 maiden hope first showers upon us like a silver rain when 
 she has taken the shape of some young beauty and plighted 
 us her fair fleeting hand, tenderly embraced him. 
 
 As they were emerging into the spaces of the moon, a 
 cheer from the stranger arrested Farina. 
 
 "Seest thou? on the wharf there! that is the very one, 
 the tallest of the three. Lakin ! but we shall have him." 
 
 Wrapt in a long cloak, with low pointed cap and feather, 
 stood the person indicated. He appeared to be meditating 
 on the flow of the water, unaware of hostile presences, or 
 quite regardless of them. There was a majesty in his 
 height and air, which made the advance of the two upon 
 him more wary and respectful than their first impulse 
 had counselled. They could not read his features, which 
 were mantled behind voluminous folds : all save a pair of 
 very strange eyes, that, even as they gazed directly down- 
 ward, seemed charged with restless fiery liquid. 
 
 The two were close behind him : Guy the Goshawk pre- 
 pared for one of those fatal pounces on the foe that had 
 won him his title. He consulted Farina mutely, who 
 nodded readiness ; but the instant after, a cry of anguish 
 escaped from the youth : — 
 
 " Lost ! gone ! lost ! Where is it ? where ! the arrow ! 
 The Silver Arrow ! My Margarita ! " 
 
 Ere the echoes of his voice had ceased lamenting into 
 the distance, they found themselves alone on the wharf.
 
 THE LILIES OP THE VALLEY 191 
 
 THE LILIES OF THE VALLEY 
 
 " He opened like a bat! " said the stranger. 
 
 "His shadow was red ! " said Farina. 
 
 " He was off like an arrow ! " said the stranger. 
 
 " Oh ! pledge of my young love, how could I lose thee ! " 
 exclaimed the youth, and his eyes were misted with tears. 
 
 Guy the Goshawk shook his brown locks gravely. 
 
 " Bring me a man, and I '11 stand up against him, who- 
 ever he be, like a man ; but this fellow has an ill scent and 
 foreign ways about him, that he has ! His eye boils all 
 down my backbone and tingles at my finger-tips. JesUj 
 save us ! " 
 
 " Save us ! " repeated Farina, with the echo of a deadened 
 soul. 
 
 They made the sign of the Cross, and purified the place 
 with holy ejaculations. 
 
 " I 've seen him at last ; grant it be for the last time ! 
 That 's my prayer, in the name of the Virgin and Trinity," 
 said Guy. "And now let's retrace our steps: perchance 
 we shall hunt up that bauble of yours, but I'm not fit 
 for mortal work this night longer." 
 
 Burdened by their black encounter, the two passed again 
 behind the Cathedral. Farina's hungry glances devoured 
 each footmark of their track. Where the moon held no 
 lantern for him, he went on his knees, and groped for his 
 lost treasure with a miser's eager patience of agony, draw- 
 ing his hand slowly over the stony kerb and between the 
 interstices of the thick-sown flints, like an acute-feeling 
 worm. Despair grew heavy in his breast. At every turn- 
 ing he invoked some good new saint to aid him, and ran 
 over all the propitiations his fancy could suggest and his 
 religious lore inspire. By-and-by they reached the head of 
 the street where Margarita dwelt. The moon was dipping 
 down, and paler, as if touched with a warning of dawn. 
 Chill sighs from the open land passed through the spaces 
 of the city. On certain coloured gables and wood-crossed 
 fronts, the white light lingered; but mostly the houses
 
 192 FARINA 
 
 were veiled in dusk, and Gottlieb's house was confused in 
 the twilight with those of his neighbours, notwithstanding 
 its greater stateliness and the old grandeur of its timbered 
 bulk. They determined to take up their position there 
 again, and paced on, Farina with his head below his shoul- 
 ders, and Guy nostril in air, as if uneasy in his sense of 
 smell. 
 
 On the window-ledge of a fair-fitted domicile stood a 
 flower-pot, a rude earthen construction in the form of a 
 river-barge, wherein grew some valley lilies that drooped 
 their white bells over the sides. 
 
 The Goshawk eyed them wistfully. 
 
 "I must smell those blessed flowers if I wish to be 
 saved ! " and he stamped resolve with his staff. 
 
 Moved by this exclamation, Farina gazed up at them. 
 
 "How like a company of maidens they look floating in 
 the vessel of life ! " he said. 
 
 Guy curiously inspected Farina and the flower-pot, 
 shrugged, and, with his comrade's aid, mounted to a level 
 with it, seized, the prize and redescended. 
 
 " There," he cried, between long luxurious sniffs, " that 
 chases him out of the nostril sooner than aught else, the 
 breath of a fresh lass-like flower ! I was tormented till 
 now by the reek of the damned rising from under me. 
 This is heaven's own incense, I think ! " 
 
 And Guy inhaled the flowers and spake prettily to them. 
 
 "They have a melancholy sweetness, friend," said Farina. 
 " I think of whispering Fays, and Elf, and Erl, when their 
 odour steals through me. Do not you ? " 
 
 " Nay, nor hope to till my wits are clean gone," was the 
 Goshawk's reply. " To my mind, 't is an honest flower, and 
 could I do good service by the young maiden who there set 
 it, I should be rendering back good service done; for if 
 that flower has not battled the devil in my nose this night, 
 and beaten him, my head 's a medlar! " 
 
 " I scarce know whether as a devout Christian I should 
 listen to that, friend," Farina mildly remonstrated. " Lilies 
 are indeed emblems of the saints ; but then they are not 
 poor flowers of earth, being transfigured, lustrous unfad- 
 ingly. Oh, Cross and Passion ! with what silver serenity 
 thy glory enwraps me, gazing on these fair bells ! I look
 
 THE LILIES OF THE VALLEY 193 
 
 on the white sea of the saints. I am enamoured of fleshly 
 anguish and martyrdom. All beauty is that worn by wan- 
 smiling faces wherein Hope sits as a crown on Sorrow, and 
 the pale ebb of mortal life is the twilight of joy everlasting. 
 Colourless peace ! Oh, my beloved ! So walkest thou for 
 my soul on the white sea ever at night, clad in the straight 
 fall of thy spotless virgin linen ; bearing in thy hand the 
 lily, and leaning thy cheek to it, where the human rose is 
 softened to a milky bloom of red, the espousals of heaven 
 with earth; over thee, moving with thee, a wreath of 
 sapphire stars, and the solitude of purity around ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed the Goshawk, dandling his flower-pot ; 
 "the moon gives strokes as well 's the sun. I' faith, moon- 
 struck and maid-struck in one ! He '11 be asking for his 
 head soon. This dash of the monk and the minstrel is a 
 sure sign. That 's their way of loving in this land : they 
 all go mad, straight off. I never heard such talk." 
 
 Guy accompanied these remarks with a pitiful glance at 
 his companion. 
 
 " Come, Sir Lover ! lend me a help to give back what 
 we 've borrowed to its rightful owner. 'S blood ! but I feel 
 an appetite. This night-air takes me in the wind like a 
 battering ram. I thought I had laid in a stout four-and- 
 twenty hours' stock of Westphalian wurst at Master 
 Groschen's supper-table. Good stuff, washed down with 
 superior Ehine wine ; say your Liebfrauenmilch for my 
 taste ; though, when I first tried it, I grimaced like a 
 Merry-Andrew, and remembered roast beef and Glo'ster 
 ale in my prayers." 
 
 The Goshawk was in the act of replacing the pot of lilies, 
 when a blow from a short truncheon, skilfully flung, struck 
 him on the neck and brought him to the ground. With 
 him fell the lilies. He glared to the right and left, and 
 grasped the broken flower-pot for a return missile ; but no 
 enemy was in view to test his accuracy of aim. The deep- 
 arched doorways showed their empty recesses : the windows 
 slept. 
 
 " Has that youth played me false ? " thought the dis- 
 comfited squire, as he leaned quietly on his arm. Farina 
 was nowhere near. 
 
 Guy was quickly reassured. 
 
 13
 
 194 FARINA 
 
 " By my fay, now ! that 's a fine thing ! and a fine 
 fellow ! and a fleet foot ! That lad '11 rise ! He '11 be a 
 squire some day. Look at him. Bowels of a'Becket ! 'tis 
 a sight! I'd rather see that, now, than old Groschen's 
 supper-table groaning with wurst again, and running a 
 river of Riidesheimer ! Tussle on ! I '11 lend a hand if 
 there 's occasion ; but you shall have the honour, boy, an 
 you can win it." 
 
 This crying on of the hound was called forth by a chase 
 up the street, in which the Goshawk beheld Farina pursue 
 and capture a stalwart runaway, who refused with all his 
 might to be brought back, striving every two and three of 
 his tiptoe steps to turn against the impulse Farina had 
 got on his neck and nether garments. 
 
 " Who 'd have thought the lad was so wiry and mettle- 
 some, with his soft face, blue eyes, and lank locks ? but a 
 green mead has more in it than many a black mountain. 
 Hail, and well done ! if I could dub you knight, I would : 
 trust me !" and he shook Farina by the hand. 
 
 Farina modestly stood aside, and allowed the Goshawk to 
 confront his prisoner. 
 
 " So, Sir Shy-i'the-dark ! gallant Stick-i'tke-back ! Squire 
 Truncheon, and Knight of the noble order of Quicksilver 
 Legs! just take your stand at the distance you were off me 
 when you discharged this instrument at my head. By'r 
 lady ! I smart a scratch to pay you in coin, and it 's lucky 
 for you the coin is small, or you might reckon on it the 
 same, trust me. Now, back ! " 
 
 The Goshawk lunged out with the truncheon, but the 
 prisoner displayed no hesitation in complying, and fell 
 back about a space of fifteen yards. 
 
 ''I suppose he guesses I've never done the stupid trick 
 before," mused Guy, " or he would not be so sharp." 
 Observing that Farina had also fallen back in a line as 
 guard, Guy motioned him to edge off to the right more, 
 bawling, " Never mind why ! " 
 
 " Now," thought Guy, " if I were sure of notching him, 
 I'd do the speech part first; but as I'm not — throwing 
 truncheons being no honourable profession anywhere — I '11 
 reserve that. The rascal don't quail. We '11 see how long 
 he stands firm."
 
 THE LILIES OF THE VALLEY 195 
 
 The Goshawk cleared his wrist, fixed his eye, and swung 
 the truncheon meditatively to and fro by one end. He 
 then launched off the shoulder a mighty down-fling, calmly, 
 watching it strike the prisoner to earth, like an ox under 
 the hammer. 
 
 "A hit !" said he, and smoothed his wrist. 
 
 Farina knelt by the body, and lifted the head on his 
 breast. " Berthold ! Berthold ! " he cried ; " no further 
 harm shall hap to you, man ! Speak ! " 
 
 " You ken the scapegrace ? " said Guy, sauntering up. 
 
 " 'T is Berthold Schmidt, son of old Schmidt, the great 
 goldsmith of Cologne." 
 
 " St. Dunstan was not at his elbow this time ! " 
 
 " A rival of mine," whispered Farina. 
 
 " Oho ! " and the Goshawk wound a low hiss at his 
 tongue's tip. " Well ! as I should have spoken if his ears 
 had been open : Justice struck the blow ; and a gentle one. 
 This comes of taking a flying shot, and not standing up 
 fair. And that seems all that can be said. Where lives 
 he?" 
 
 Farina pointed to the house of the Lilies. 
 
 " Beshrew me ! the dog has some right on his side. 
 Whew ! yonder he lives ? He took us for some night- 
 prowlers. Why not come up fairly, and ask my business ? 
 Smelling a flower is not worth a broken neck, nor defending 
 your premises quite deserving a hole in the pate. Now, 
 my lad, you see what comes of dealing with cut and run 
 blows ; and let this be a warning to you." 
 
 They took the body by head and feet, and laid him at 
 the door of his father's house. Here the colour came to 
 his cheek, and they wiped off the streaks of blood that 
 stained him. Guy proved he could be tender with a fallen 
 foe, and Farina with an ill-fated rival. It was who could 
 suggest the soundest remedies, or easiest postures. One 
 lent a kerchief and nursed him; another ran to the city 
 fountain and fetched him water. Meantime the moon had 
 dropped, and morning, gray and beamless, looked on the 
 house-peaks and along the streets with steadier eye. They 
 now both discerned a body of men, far down, fronting 
 Gottlieb's house, and drawn up in some degree of order. 
 All their charity forsook them at once.
 
 196 FAMNA 
 
 "Possess thyself of the truncheon," said Guy: "you 
 see it can damage. More work before breakfast, and a 
 fine account I must give of myself to my hostess of the 
 Three Holy Kings!" 
 
 Farina recovered the destructive little instrument. 
 
 " I am ready," said he. " But hark ! there 's little work 
 for us there, I fancy. Those be lads of Cologne, no grunt- 
 ers of the wild. 'T is the White Rose Club. Always too 
 late for service." 
 
 Voices singing a hunting glee, popular in that age, 
 swelled up the clear morning air ; and gradually the words 
 became distinct. 
 
 The Kaiser went a-hunting, 
 A-hunting, tra-ra : 
 With his hugle-horn at springing morn, 
 The Kaiser trampled bud and thorn : 
 
 Tra-ra ! 
 And the dew shakes green as the horsemen rear, 
 And a thousand feathers they flutter with fear ; 
 And a pang drives quick to the heart of the deer; 
 For the Kaiser 's out a-hunting, 
 Tra-ra ! 
 Ta, ta, ta, ta, 
 
 Tra-ra, tra-ra, 
 Ta-ta, tra-ra, tra-ra! 
 
 The owner of the truncheon awoke to these reviving 
 tones, and uttered a faint responsive " Tra-ra ! " 
 
 " Hark again ! " said Farina, in reply to the commen- 
 dation of the Goshawk, whose face was dimpled over with 
 the harmony. 
 
 The wild boar lay a-grunting, 
 A-grunting, tra-ra ! 
 And, boom ! comes the Kaiser to hunt up me ? 
 Or, queak ! the small birdie that hops on the tree ? 
 
 Tra-ra ! 
 O birdie, and boar, and deer, lie tame ! 
 For a maiden in bloom, or a full-blown dame, 
 Are the daintiest prey, and the windingest game. 
 When Kaisers go a-hunting, 
 Tra-ra ! 
 Ha, ha, ha, ha, 
 
 Tra-ra, tra-ra, 
 Ha-ha, tra-ra, tra-ra f
 
 THE MISSIVES 197 
 
 The voices held long on the last note, and let it die in a 
 forest cadence. 
 
 " 'Fore Gad ! well done. Hurrah ! Tra-ra, ha-ha, tra-ra ! 
 That 's a trick we 're not half alive to at home," said Guy. 
 "I feel friendly with these German lads." 
 
 The Goshawk's disposition toward German lads was that 
 moment harshly tested by a smart rap on the shoulder from 
 an end of German oak, and a proclamation that he was 
 prisoner of the hand that gave the greeting, in the name of 
 the White Rose Club. Following that, his staff was wrested 
 from him by a dozen stout young fellows, who gave him no 
 time to get his famous distance for defence against num. 
 bers; and he and Farina were marched forthwith to the 
 chorusing body in front of Gottlieb Groschen's house. 
 
 THE MISSIVES 
 
 Of all the inmates, Gottlieb had slept most with the day on 
 his eyelids, for Werner hung like a nightmare over him. 
 Margarita lay and dreamed in rose-colour, and if she thrilled 
 on her pillowed silken couch like a tense-strung harp, and 
 fretted drowsily in little leaps and starts, it was that a bird 
 lay in her bosom, panting and singing through the night, 
 and that he was not to be stilled, but would musically utter 
 the sweetest secret thoughts of a love-bewitched maiden. 
 Farina's devotion she knew : his tenderness she divined : 
 his courage she had that day witnessed. The young girl no 
 sooner felt that she could love worthily, than she loved 
 with her whole strength. Muffled and remote came the 
 hunting-song under her pillow, and awoke dreamy delicate 
 curves in her fair face, as it thinned but did not banish her 
 dream. Aunt Lisbeth also heard the song, and burst out of 
 her bed to see that the door and window were secured 
 against the wanton Kaiser. Despite her trials, she had 
 taken her spell of sleep ; but being possessed of some mys- 
 tic maiden belief that in cases of apprehended peril from 
 man, bed was a rock of refuge and fortified defence, she 
 crept back there, and allowed the sun to rise without her.
 
 198 FARINA 
 
 Gottlieb's voice could not awaken her to the household 
 duties she loved to perform with such a doleful visage. 
 She heard him open his window, and parley in angry tones 
 with the musicians below. 
 
 " Decoys ! " muttered Aunt Lisbeth ; " be thou alive to 
 them, Gottlieb!" 
 
 He went downstairs and opened the street-door, where- 
 upon the scolding and railing commenced anew. 
 
 " Thou hast given them vantage, Gottlieb, brother mine," 
 she complained ; " and the good heavens only can say what 
 may result from such indiscreetness." 
 
 A silence, combustible with shuffling of feet in the pas- 
 sage and on the stairs, dinned horrors into Aunt Lisbeth's 
 head. 
 
 "It was just that sound in the left wing of Hollenbogen- 
 blitz," she said : " only then it was night and not morning. 
 Ursula preserve me ! " 
 
 " Why, Lisbeth ! Lisbeth ! " cried Gottlieb from below. 
 " Come down ! 't is full five o' the morning. Here 's com- 
 pany ; and what are we to do without the woman ? " 
 
 " Ah, Gottlieb ! that is like men ! They do not consider 
 how different it is for us ! " which mysterious sentence 
 being uttered to herself alone, enjoyed a meaning it would 
 elsewhere have been denied. 
 
 Aunt Lisbeth dressed, and met Margarita descending. 
 They exchanged the good morning of young maiden and 
 old. 
 
 " Go thou first," said Aunt Lisbeth. 
 
 Margarita gaily tripped ahead. 
 
 " Girl ! " cried Aunt Lisbeth, " what 's that thing in thy 
 back hair ? " 
 
 " I have borrowed Lieschen's arrow, aunt. Mine has had 
 an accident." 
 
 " Lieschen's arrow ! An accident ! Now I will see to 
 that after breakfast, Margarita." 
 
 " Tra-ra, ta-ta, tra-ra, tra-ra," sang Margarita. 
 
 " The wild boar lay a-grunting, 
 A -grunting, tra-ra." 
 
 " A maiden's true and proper ornament ! Look at mine, 
 child ! I have worn it fifty years. May I deserve to wear
 
 THE MISSIVES 199 
 
 it till I am called ! Margarita ! trifle not with that 
 symbol." 
 
 " ' O birdie, and boar, and deer, lie tame ! ' 
 
 I am so happy, aunty." 
 
 "Nice times to be happy in, Margarita." 
 
 " ' Be happy in Spring, sweet maidens all, 
 For Autumn's chill will early fall.' 
 
 So sings the Minnesinger, aunty ; and 
 
 ' A maiden in the wintry leaf 
 Will spread her own disease of grief.' 
 
 I love the Minnesingers ! Dear, sweet-mannered men they 
 are ! Such lovers ! And men of deeds as well as song : 
 sword on one side and harp on the other. They fight till 
 set of sun, and then slacken their armour to waft a ballad 
 to their beloved by moonlight, covered with stains of battle 
 as they are, and weary ! " 
 
 " What a girl ! Minnesingers ! Yes ; I know stories of 
 those Minnesingers. They came to the Castle — Margarita, 
 a bead of thy cross is broken. I will attend to it. Wear 
 the pearl one till I mend this. May'st thou never fall in 
 the way of Minnesingers. They are not like Werner's 
 troop. They do not batter at doors : they slide into the 
 house like snakes." 
 
 " Lisbeth ! Lisbeth ! " they heard Gottlieb calling impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 "We come, Gottlieb!" and in a low murmur Margarita 
 heard her say : " May this day pass without trouble and 
 shame to the pious and the chaste." 
 
 Margarita knew the voice of the stranger before she had 
 opened the door, and on presenting herself, the hero gave 
 her a guardian-like salute. 
 
 "One may see," he said, "that it requires better men 
 than those of Werner to drive away the rose from that 
 cheek." 
 
 Gottlieb pressed the rosy cheek to his shoulder and patted 
 her. 
 
 " What do you think, Grete ? You have now forty of the 
 best lads in Cologne enrolled to protect you, and keep
 
 200 FARINA 
 
 guard over the house night and day. There ! What more 
 could a Pfalzgrafin ask, now ? Aud voluntary service ; all 
 to be paid with a smile, which I dare say my lady won't 
 refuse them. Lisbeth, you know our friend. Fear him 
 not, good Lisbeth, and give us breakfast. Well, sweet 
 chuck, you 're to have royal honours paid you. I warrant 
 they 've begun good work already in locking up that idle 
 moony vagabond, Farina " 
 
 " Him ? What for, my father ? How dared they ! What 
 has he done ? " 
 
 " 0, start not, my fairy maid ! A small matter of break- 
 age, pet ! He tried to enter Cunigonde Schmidt's chamber, 
 and knocked down her pot of lilies : for which Berthold 
 Schmidt knocked him down, and our friend here, out of 
 good fellowship, knocked down Berthold. However, the 
 chief offender is marched off to prison by your trusty guard, 
 and there let him cool himself. Berthold shall tell you the 
 tale himself : he '11 be here to breakfast, and receive your 
 orders, mistress commander-in-chief." 
 
 The Goshawk had his eye on Margarita. Her teeth were 
 tight down on her nether lip, and her whole figure had a 
 strange look of awkwardness, she was so divided with anger. 
 
 " As witness of the affair, I think I shall make a clearer 
 statement, fair maiden," he interposed. " In the first place, 
 I am the offender. We passed under the window of the 
 Fraulein Schmidt, and 't was I mounted to greet the lilies. 
 One shoot of them is in my helm, and here let me present 
 them to a worthier holder." 
 
 He offered the flowers with a smile, and Margarita took 
 them, radiant with gratitude. 
 
 "Our friend Berthold," he continued, "thought proper 
 to aim a blow at me behind my back, and then ran for his 
 comrades. He was caught, and by my gallant young hero, 
 Farina ; concerning whose character I regret that your 
 respected father and I differ : for, on the faith of a soldier 
 and true man, he 's the finest among the fine fellows I 've 
 yet met in Germany, trust me. So, to cut the story short, 
 execution was done upon Berthold by my hand, for an act 
 of treachery. He appears to be a sort of captain of one of 
 the troops, and not affectionately disposed to Farina ; for 
 the version of the affair you have heard from your father is
 
 THE MISSIVES 201 
 
 a little invention of Master Berthold's own. To do hirn 
 justice, he seemed equally williug to get me under the cold 
 stone ; but a word from your good father changed the cur- 
 rent ; and as I thought I could serve our friend better free 
 than behind bars, I accepted liberty. Pshaw ! I should 
 have accepted it any way, to tell the truth, for your German 
 dungeons are mortal shivering ratty places. So rank me 
 no hero, fair Mistress Margarita, though the temptation to 
 seem one in such sweet eyes was beginning to lead me 
 astray. And now, as to our business in the streets at this 
 hour, believe the best of us." 
 
 " I will ! I do ! " said Margarita. 
 
 " Lisbeth ! Lisbeth ! " called Gottlieb. " Breakfast, little 
 sister ! our champion is starving. He asks for wurst, milk- 
 loaves, wine, and all thy rarest conserves. Haste, then, for 
 the honour of Cologne is at stake." 
 
 Aunt Lisbeth jingled her keys in and out, and soon that 
 harmony drew a number of domestics with platters of 
 swine flesh, rolls of white wheaten bread, the perpetual 
 wurst, milk, wine, barley-bread, and household stores of 
 dainties in profusion, all sparkling on silver, relieved by 
 spotless white cloth. Gottlieb beheld such a sunny twinkle 
 across the Goshawk's face at this hospitable array, that he 
 gave the word of onset without waiting for Berthold, and 
 his guest immediately fell to, and did not relax in his exer- 
 tions for a full half-hour by the Cathedral clock, eschewing 
 the beer with a wry look made up of scorn and ruefulness, 
 and drinking a well-brimmed health in Khine wine all 
 round. Margarita was pensive : Aunt Lisbeth on her guard. 
 Gottlieb remembered Charles the Great's counsel to Arch- 
 bishop Turpin, and did his best to remain on earth one of 
 its lords dominant. 
 
 " Poor Berthold ! " said he. " 'T is a good lad, and deserves 
 his seat at my table oftener. I suppose the flower-pot busi- 
 ness has detained him. We '11 drink to him : eh, Grete ? " 
 
 " Drink to him, dear father ! — but here he is to thank 
 you in person." 
 
 Margarita felt a twinge of pity as Berthold entered. The 
 livid stains of his bruise deepened about his eyes, and gave 
 them a wicked light whenever they were fixed intently ; 
 but they looked earnest ; and spoke of a combat in which
 
 202 FAKINA 
 
 he could say that he proved no coward and was used with 
 some cruelty. She turned on the Goshawk a mute reproach ; 
 yet smiled and loved him well when she beheld him stretch 
 a hand of welcome and proffer a brotherly glass to Berthold. 
 The rich goldsmith's son was occupied in studying the 
 horoscope of his fortunes in Margarita's eyes ; but when 
 Margarita directed his attention to Guy, he turned to him 
 with a glance of astonishment that yielded to cordial 
 
 greeting. . 
 
 " Well done, Berthold, my brave boy ! All are friends 
 who sit at table," said Gottlieb. "In any case, at my 
 table : — 
 
 "T is a worthy foe 
 Forgives the blow- 
 Was dealt him full and fairly,' 
 
 says the song ; and the proverb takes it up with, * A gen- 
 erous enemy is a friend on the wrong side ; ' and no one 's 
 to blame for that, save old Dame Fortune. So now a bumper 
 to this jovial make-up between you. Lisbeth! you must 
 drink it." 
 
 The little woman bowed melancholy obedience. 
 
 "Why did you fling and run?" whispered Guy to 
 Berthold. 
 
 "Because you were two against one." 
 
 " Two against one, man ! Why, have you no such thing 
 as fair play in this land of yours ? Did you think I should 
 have taken advantage of that ? " 
 
 "How could I tell who you were, or what you would 
 do ? " muttered Berthold, somewhat sullenly. 
 
 " Truly no, friend ! So you ran to make yourself twenty 
 to two ? But don't be down on the subject. I was going 
 to say, that though I treated you in a manner upright, 't was 
 perhaps, a trifle severe, considering your youth : _ but an 
 example's everything; and I must let you know in confi- 
 dence, that no rascal truncheon had I flung in my life 
 before; so, you see, I gave you all the chances." 
 
 Berthold moved his lips in reply; but thinking of the 
 figure of defeat he was exhibiting before Margarita, caused 
 him to estimate unfavourably what chances had stood in 
 his favour.
 
 THE MISSIVES 203 
 
 The health was drunk. Aunt Lisbeth touched the smoky- 
 yellow glass with a mincing lip, and beckoned Margarita to 
 withdraw. 
 
 " The tapestry, child ! " she said. " Dangerous things are 
 uttered after the third glass, I know, Margarita." 
 
 " Do you call my champion handsome, aunt ? " 
 
 " I was going to speak to you about him, Margarita. If I 
 remember, he has rough, good looks, as far as they go. Yes : 
 but thou, maiden, art thou thinking of him ? I have thrice 
 watched him wink ; and that, as we know, is a habit of 
 them that have sold themselves. And what is frail woman- 
 kind to expect from such a brawny animal ? " 
 
 " And oh ! to lace his armour up, 
 And speed him to the field ; 
 To pledge him in a kissing-cup, 
 The knight that will not yield ! 
 
 I am sure he is tender, aunt. Notice how gentle he looks 
 now and then.' 5, 
 
 " Thou girl ! Yes, I believe she is madly in love with 
 him. Tender, and gentle! So is the bear when you're 
 outside his den ; but enter it, maiden, and try ! Thou good 
 Ursula, preserve me from such a fate." 
 
 " Fear not, dear aunt ! Have not a fear of it ! Besides, 
 it is not always the men that are bad. You must not 
 forget Dalilah, and Lot's wife, and Pfalzgrafin Jutta, and 
 the Baroness who asked for a piece of poor Kraut. But, 
 let us work, let us work ! " 
 
 Margarita sat down before Siegfried, and contemplated 
 the hero. For the first time, she marked a resemblance in 
 his features to Farina : the same long yellow hair scattered 
 over his shoulders as that flowing from under Siegfried's 
 helm ; the blue eyes, square brows, and regular outlines. 
 " This is a marvel," thought Margarita. " And Farina ! it 
 was to watch over me that he roamed the street last night, 
 my best one ! Is he not beautiful ? " and she looked closer 
 at Siegfried. 
 
 Aunt Lisbeth had begun upon the dragon with her usual 
 method, and was soon wandering through skeleton halls of 
 the old palatial castle in Bohemia. The woolly tongue of 
 the monster suggested fresh horrors to her, and if Margarita
 
 204 FAEINA 
 
 had listened, she might have had fair excuses to forget her 
 lover's condition ; but her voice only did service like a 
 piece of clock-work, and her mind was in the prison with 
 Farina. She was long debating how to win his release; 
 and meditated so deeply, and exclaimed in so many bursts 
 of impatience, that Aunt Lisbeth found her heart melting 
 to the maiden. 
 
 " Now," said she, " that is a well-known story about the 
 Electress Dowager of Bavaria, when she came on a visit to 
 the Castle ; and, my dear child, be it a warning. Terrible, 
 too ! " and the little woman shivered pleasantly. " She 
 had — I may tell you this, Margarita — yes, she had been 
 false to her wedded husband. — You understand, maiden ; 
 or, no ! you do not understand : I understand it only partly, 
 mind. False, I say " 
 
 "False — not true: go on, dear aunty," said Margarita, 
 catching the word. 
 
 " I believe she knows as much as I do ! " ejaculated Aunt 
 Lisbeth ; " such are girls nowadays. When I was young 
 — oh ! for a maiden to know anything then — oh ! it was 
 general reprobation. No one thought of confessing it. 
 We blushed and held down our eyes at the very idea. 
 Well, the Electress! she was — you must guess. So she 
 tailed for her caudle at eleven o'clock at night. What do 
 you think that was ? Well, there was spirit in it : not to 
 say nutmeg, and lemon, and peach-kernels. She wanted 
 me to sit with her, but I begged my mistress to keep me 
 from the naughty woman : and no friend of Hilda of 
 Bayern was Bertha of Bohmen, you may be sure. Oh ! the 
 things she talked while she was drinking her caudle. Isen- 
 trude sat with her, and said it was fearful ! — beyond 
 blasphemy ! and that she looked like a Bible witch, sitting 
 up drinking and swearing and glaring in her nightclothes 
 and nightcap. She was on a journey into Hungary, and 
 claimed the hospitality of the Castle on her way there. 
 Both were widows. Well, it was a quarter to twelve.. The 
 Electress dropped back on her pillow, as she always did 
 when she had finished the caudle. Isentrude covered her 
 over, heaped up logs on the fire, wrapped her dressing-gown 
 about her, and prepared to sleep. It was Winter, and the 
 wind howled at the doors, and rattled the windows, and
 
 THE MISSIVES 205 
 
 shook the arras — Lord help us ! Outside was all snow, 
 and nothing but forest ; as you saw when you came to me 
 there, Gretelchen. Twelve struck. Isentrude was dozing; 
 but she says that after the last stroke she woke with cold. 
 A foggy chill hung in the room. She looked at the Elec- 
 tress, who had not moved. The fire burned feebly, and 
 seemed weighed upon : Herr Je ! — she thought she heard 
 a noise. No. Quite quiet ! As heaven preserve her, says 
 she, the smell in that room grew like an open grave, 
 clammily putrid. Holy Virgin ! This time she was cer- 
 tain she heard a noise ; but it seemed on both sides of her. 
 There was the great door leading to the first landing and 
 state-room ; and opposite exactly there was the panel of the 
 secret passage. The noises seemed to advance as if step by 
 step, and grew louder in each ear as she stood horrified on 
 the marble of the hearth. She looked at the Electress 
 again, and her eyes were wide open ; but for all Isentrude's 
 calling, she would not wake. Only think ! Now the noise 
 increased, and was a regular tramp-grate, tramp-screw 
 sound — coming nearer and nearer : Saints of mercy ! The 
 apartment was choking with vapours. Isentrude made a 
 dart, and robed herself behind a curtain of the bed just as 
 the two doors opened. She could see through a slit in the 
 woven work, and winked her eyes — which she had shut 
 close on hearing the scream of the door-hinges — winked 
 her eyes to catch a sight for a moment — we are such sinful, 
 curious creatures ! — What she saw then, she says she shall 
 never forget ; nor I ! As she was a living woman, there she 
 saw the two dead princes, the Prince Palatine of Bohemia 
 and the Elector of Bavaria, standing front to front at the 
 foot of the bed, all in white armour, with drawn swords, and 
 attendants holding pine-torches. Neither of them spoke. 
 Their vizors were down ; but she knew them by their arms 
 and bearing : both tall, stately presences, good knights in 
 their day, and had fought against the Infidel. So one of 
 them pointed to the bed, and then a torch was lowered, and 
 the fight commenced. Isentrude saw the sparks fly, and 
 the steel struck till it was shattered; but they fought on, 
 not caring for wounds, and snorting with fury as they grew 
 hotter. They fought a whole hour. The poor girl was so 
 eaten up with looking on, that she let go the curtain and
 
 206 FARINA 
 
 stood quite exposed among them. So, to steady herself, 
 she rested her hand on the bed-side ; and — think what she 
 felt — a hand as cold as ice locked hers, and get from it 
 she could not! That instant one of the princes fell. It 
 was Bohmen. Bayern sheathed his sword, and waved his 
 hand, and the attendants took up the slaughtered ghost, 
 feet and shoulders, and bore him to the door of the secret 
 passage, while Bayern strode after " 
 
 " Shameful ! " exclaimed Margarita. " I will speak to 
 Berthold as he descends. I hear him coming. He shall 
 do what I wish." 
 
 " Call it dreadful, Grete ! Dreadful it was. If Berthold 
 would like to sit and hear — Ah ! she is gone. A good girl ! 
 and of a levity only on the surface." 
 
 Aunt Lisbeth heard Margarita's voice rapidly addressing 
 Berthold. His reply was low and brief. " Refuses to listen 
 to anything of the sort," Aunt Lisbeth interpreted it. Then 
 he seemed to be pleading, and Margarita uttering short 
 answers. " I trust 't is nothing a maiden should not hear," 
 the little lady exclaimed with a sigh. 
 
 The door opened, and Lieschen stood at the entrance. 
 
 "For Fraulein Margarita," she said, holding a letter 
 half-way out. 
 
 " Give it," Aunt Lisbeth commanded. 
 
 The woman hesitated — " 'T is for the Fraulein." 
 
 "Give it, I tell thee ! " and Aunt Lisbeth eagerly seized 
 the missive, and subjected it to the ordeal of touch. It 
 was heavy, and contained something hard. Long pensive 
 pressures revealed its shape on the paper. It wis an 
 arrow. 
 
 " Go ! " said she to the woman, and, once alone, began, 
 bee-like, to buzz all over it, and finally entered. It con- 
 tained Margarita's Silver Arrow. "The art of that girl! " 
 And the writing said : 
 
 " Sweetest Maiden ! 
 
 "By this arrow of our betrothal, I conjure thee to meet 
 me in all haste without the western gate, where, burning to 
 reveal to thee most urgent tidings that may not be confided 
 to paper, now waits, petitioning the saints, thy 
 
 " Farina."
 
 THE MISSIVES 207 
 
 Aunt Lisbeth placed letter and arrow in a drawer e f locked 
 it; and "always thought so." She ascended the stairs to 
 consult with Gottlieb. Koars of laughter greeted her just 
 as she lifted the latch, and she retreated abashed. There 
 was no time to lose. Farina must be caught in the act of 
 waiting for Margarita, and by Gottlieb, or herself. Gottlieb 
 was revelling. "May this be a warning to thee, Gottlieb," 
 murmured Lisbeth, as she hooded her little body in Mar- 
 garita's fur-cloak, and determined that she would be the 
 one to confound Farina. 
 
 Five minutes later Margarita returned. Aunt Lisbeth 
 was gone. The dragon still lacked a tip to his forked 
 tongue, and a stream of fiery threads dangled from the 
 jaws of the monster. Another letter was brought into 
 the room by Lieschen. 
 
 " For Aunt Lisbeth," said Margarita, reading the address. 
 " Who can it be from ? " 
 
 " She does not stand pressing about your letters," said the 
 woman ; and informed Margarita of the foregoing missive. 
 
 " You say she drew an arrow from it ? " said Margarita, 
 with burning face. " Who brought this ? tell me ! " and 
 just waiting to hear it was Farina's mother, she tore the 
 letter open, and read : — 
 
 " Dearest Lisbeth ! 
 
 " Thy old friend writes to thee ; she that has scarce 
 left eyes to see the words she writes. Thou knowest we 
 are a fallen house, through the displeasure of the Emperor 
 on my dead husband. My son, Farina, is my only stay, 
 and well returns to me the blessings I bestow upon him. 
 Some call him idle: some think him too wise. I swear to 
 thee, Lisbeth, he is only good. His hours are devoted to 
 the extraction of essences, — to no black magic. Now he 
 is in trouble — in prison. The shadow that destroyed his 
 dead father threatens him. Now, by our old friendship, 
 beloved Lisbeth! intercede with Gottlieb, that he may 
 plead for my son before the Emperor when he comes " 
 
 Margarita read no more. She went to the window, and 
 saw her guard marshalled outside. She threw a kerchief 
 over her head, and left the house by the garden gate.
 
 208 FAEINA 
 
 THE MONK 
 
 By this time the sun stood high over Cologne. The market- 
 places were crowded with buyers and sellers, mixed with a 
 loitering swarm of soldiery, for whose thirsty natures wine- 
 stalls had been tumbled up. Barons and knights of the 
 empire, bravely mounted and thickly followed, poured 
 hourly into Cologne from South Germany and North. 
 Here, staring Suabians, and round-featured warriors of the 
 East Kingdom, swaggered up and down, patting what 
 horses came across them, for lack of occupation for their 
 hands. Yonder, • huge Pomeranians, with bosks of beard 
 stiffened out square from the chin, hurtled mountainous 
 among the peaceable inhabitants. Troopers dismounted 
 went straddling, in tight hose and loose, prepared to drink 
 good-will to whomsoever would furnish the best quality 
 liquor for that solemn pledge, and equally ready to pick 
 a quarrel with them that would not. It was a scene of 
 flaring feathers, wide-flapped bonnets, flaunting hose, blue 
 and battered steel plates, slashed woollen haunch-bags, 
 leather-leggings, ensigns, and imperious boots and shoul- 
 ders. Margarita was too hurried in her mind to be con- 
 scious of an imprudence ; but her limbs trembled, and she 
 instinctively quickened her steps. When she stood under 
 the sign of the Three Holy Kings, where dwelt Farina's 
 mother, she put up a fervent prayer of thanks, and breathed 
 freely. 
 
 "I had expected a message from Lisbeth," said Frau 
 Farina ; " but thou, good heart ! thou wilt help us ? " 
 
 "All that may be done by me I will do," replied Mar- 
 garita ; " but his mother yearns to see him, and I have 
 come to bear her company." 
 
 The old lady clasped her hands and wept. 
 
 " Has he found so good a friend, my poor boy ! And 
 trust me, dear maiden, he is not unworthy, for better son 
 never lived, and good son, good all ! Surely we will go to 
 him, but not as thou art. I will dress thee. Such throngs
 
 THE MONK 209 
 
 are in the streets: I heard them clattering in early this 
 morning. Rest, dear heart, till 1 return." 
 
 Margarita had time to inspect the single sitting-room in 
 which her lover lived. It was planted with bottles, and 
 vases, and pipes, and cylinders, piling on floor, chair, and 
 table. She could not suppress a slight surprise of fear, for 
 this display showed a dealing with hidden things, and a 
 summoning of scattered spirits. It was this that made his 
 brow so pale, and the round of his eye darker than youth 
 should let it be ! She dismissed the feeling, and assumed 
 her own bright face as Dame Farina reappeared, bearing on 
 her arm a convent garb, and other apparel. Margarita 
 suffered herself to be invested in the white and black robes 
 of the denial of life. 
 
 " There ! " said the Frau Farina, " and to seal assurance, 
 I have engaged a guard to accompany us. He was sorely 
 bruised in a street combat yesterday, and was billeted 
 below, where I nursed and tended him, and he is grateful, 
 as man should be — though I did little, doing my utmost — 
 and with him near us we have nought to fear." 
 
 " Good," said Margarita, and they kissed and departed. 
 The guard was awaiting them outside. 
 
 "Come, my little lady, and with thee the holy sister! 
 'T is no step from here, and I gage to bring ye safe, as sure 
 as my name 's Schwartz Thier ! — Hey ? The good sister 's 
 dropping. Look, now ! I '11 carry her." 
 
 Margarita recovered her self-command before he could 
 make good this offer. 
 
 " Only let us hasten there," she gasped. 
 
 The Thier strode on, and gave them safe-conduct to the 
 prison where Farina was confined, being near one of the 
 outer forts of the city. 
 
 "Thank and dismiss him," whispered Margarita. 
 
 " Nay ! he will wait — wilt thou not, friend ? We shall 
 not be long, though it is my son I visit here," said Frau 
 Farina. 
 
 "Till to-morrow morning, my little lady! The lion 
 thanked him that plucked the thorn from his foot, and the 
 Thier may be black, but he J s not ungrateful, nor a worse 
 beast than the lion." 
 
 They entered the walls and left him.
 
 210 FARINA 
 
 For the first five minutes Schwartz Thier found employ- 
 ment for his faculties by staring at the shaky, small-paned 
 windows of the neighbourhood. He persevered in this, 
 after all novelty had been exhausted, from an intuitive 
 dread of weariness. There was nothing to see. An old 
 woman once bobbed out of an attic, and doused the flints 
 with water. Harassed by increasing dread of the foul 
 nightmare of nothing-to-do, the Thier endeavoured to 
 establish amorous intelligence with her. She responded 
 with an indignant projection of the under-jaw, evanishing 
 rapidly. There was no resource left him but to curse her 
 with extreme heartiness. The Thier stamped his right leg, 
 and then his left, and remembered the old woman as a 
 grievance five minutes longer. When she was clean for- 
 gotten, he yawned. Another spouse of the moment was 
 wanted, to be wooed, objurgated, and regretted. The 
 prison-gate was in a secluded street. Few passengers went 
 by, and those who did edged away from the ponderous, 
 wanton-eyed figure of lazy mischief lounging there, as 
 neatly as they well could. The Thier hailed two or three. 
 One took to his legs, another bowed, smirked, gave him 
 a kindly good-day, and affected to hear no more, having 
 urgent business in prospect. The Thier was a faithful 
 dog, but the temptation to betray his trust and pursue 
 them was mighty. He began to experience an equal dis- 
 position to cry and roar. He hummed a ballad : — 
 
 " I swore of her I 'd have my will, 
 And with him I 'd have my way : 
 I learn'd my cross-bow over the hill : — 
 Now what does my lady say 1 
 
 Give me the good old cross-bow, after all, and none of these 
 lumbering puff-and-bangs that knock you down oftener 
 than your man! — 
 
 " A cross stands in the forest still, 
 
 And a cross in the churchyard gray : 
 My curse on him who had his will, 
 And on him who had his way ! 
 
 Good beginning, bad ending ! 'T is n't so always. ' Many 
 a cross has the cross-bow built,' they say. I wish I had 
 mine, now, to peg off that old woman, or somebody. I'd
 
 THE MONK 211 
 
 swear she's peeping at me over the gable, or behind some 
 cranny. They 're curious, the old women, curse 'eml 
 And the young, for that matter. Devil a young one here. 
 
 " When I 'm in for the sack of a town, 
 What, think ye, I poke after, up and down ? 
 Silver and gold I pocket in plenty, 
 But the sweet tit-bit is my hiss under twenty. 
 
 I should like to be in for the sack of this Cologne. I 'd 
 nose out that pretty girl I was cheated of yesterday. Take 
 the gold and silver, and give me the maiden ! Her neck 's 
 silver, and her hair gold. Ah ! and her cheeks roses, and 
 her mouth — say no more! I'm half thinking Werner, 
 the hungry animal, has cast wolf's eyes on her. They say 
 he spoke of her last night. Don't let him thwart me. 
 Thunderblast him ! I owe him a grudge. He 's beginning 
 to forget my plan o' life." 
 
 A flight of pigeons across the blue top of the street 
 abstracted the Thier from these reflections. He gaped 
 after them in despair, and fell to stretching and shaking 
 himself, rattling his lungs with loud reports. As he threw 
 his eyes round again, they encountered those of a monk 
 opposite fastened on him in penetrating silence. The 
 Thier hated monks as a wild beast shuns fire ; but now 
 even a monk was welcome. 
 
 " Halloo ! " he sung out. 
 
 The monk crossed over to him. 
 
 "Friend!" said he, "weariness is teaching thee wanton- 
 ness. Wilt thou take service for a night's work, where the 
 danger is little, the reward lasting ? " 
 
 " As for that," replied the Thier, " danger comes to me 
 like greenwood to the deer, and good pay never yet was 
 given in pi-omises. But I'm bound for the next hour to 
 womankind within there. They 're my masters ; as they 've 
 been of tough fellows before me." 
 
 "I will seek them, and win their consent," said the 
 monk, and so left him. 
 
 " Quick dealing ! " thought the Thier, and grew brisker. 
 " The Baron won't want me to-night : and what if he 
 does ? Let him hang himself — though, if he should, 't will 
 be a pity I 'm not by to help him."
 
 212 FARINA 
 
 He paced under the wall to its farthest course. Turn- 
 ing back, he perceived the monk at the gateway. 
 
 "A sharp hand! " thought the Thier. 
 
 " Intrude no question on me," the monk began ; " but hold 
 thy peace and follow : the women release thee, and gladly." 
 
 "That's not my piano' life, now! Money down, and 
 then command me : " and Schwartz Thier stood with one 
 foot forward, and hand stretched out. 
 
 A curl of scorn darkened the cold features of the monk. 
 He slid one hand into a side of his frock above the girdle, 
 and tossed a bag of coin. 
 
 " Take it, if 't is in thee to forfeit the greater blessing," 
 he cried contemptuously. 
 
 The Thier peeped into the bag, and appeared satisfied. 
 
 "I follow," said he; " lead on, good father, and I'll be in 
 the track of holiness for the first time since my mother was 
 quit of me." 
 
 The monk hurried up the street and into the market- 
 place, oblivious of the postures and reverences of the 
 people, who stopped to stare at him and his gaunt attend- 
 ant. As they crossed the square, Schwartz Thier spied 
 Henker Rothhals starting from a wine-stall on horseback, 
 and could not forbear hailing him. Before the monk had 
 time to utter a reproach, they were deep together in a 
 double-shot of query and reply. 
 
 " Whirr ! " cried the Thier, breaking on some communica- 
 tion. " Got her, have they ? and swung her across stream ? 
 I 'm one with ye for my share, or call me sheep ! " 
 
 He waved his hand to the monk, and taking hold of the 
 horse's rein, ran off beside his mounted confederate, heavily 
 shod as he was. 
 
 The monk frowned after him, and swelled with a hard 
 sigh. 
 
 " Gone ! " he exclaimed, " and the accursed gold with 
 him ! Well did a voice warn me that such service was 
 never to be bought ! " 
 
 He did not pause to bewail or repent, but returned 
 toward the prison with rapid footsteps, muttering: "I 
 with the prison-pass xor two ; why was I beguiled by that 
 bandit ? Saw I not the very youth given into my hands 
 there, he tlw-t was with the damsel and the aged woman ? "
 
 THE RIDE AND THE RACE 213 
 
 THE RIDE AND THE RACE 
 
 Late in the noon a horseman, in the livery of the Kaiser's 
 body-guard, rode dry and dusty into Cologne, with tidings 
 that the Kaiser was at Hammerstein Castle, and command- 
 ing all convocated knights, barons, counts, and princes, to 
 assemble and prepare for his coining, on a certain bare 
 space of ground within two leagues of Cologne, thence to 
 swell the train of his triumphal entry into the ancient city 
 of his empire. 
 
 Guy the Goshawk, broad-set on a Flemish mare, and a 
 pack-horse beside him, shortly afterward left the hotel of 
 the Three Holy Kings, and trotted up to Gottlieb's door. 
 
 "Tent-pitching is now my trade," said he, as Gottlieb 
 came down to him. " My lord is with the Kaiser. I must 
 say farewell for the nonce. Is the young lady visible ? " 
 
 " Nor young, nor old, good friend," replied Gottlieb, with 
 a countenance somewhat ruffled. " I dined alone for lack 
 of your company. Secret missives came, I hear, to each of 
 them, and both are gadding. Now what think you of this, 
 after the scene of yesterday ? — Lisbeth too! " 
 
 " Preaches from the old text, Master Groschen ; ' Never 
 reckon on womankind for a wise act.' But farewell ! and 
 tell Mistress Margarita that I take it ill of her not giving 
 me her maiden hand to salute before parting. My gravest 
 respects to Frau Lisbeth. I shall soon be sitting with you 
 over that prime vintage of yours, or fortune 's dead against 
 me." 
 
 So, with a wring of the hand, Guy put the spur to his 
 round-flanked beast, and was quickly out of Cologne on the 
 rough roadway. 
 
 He was neither the first nor the last of the men-at-arms 
 hastening to obey the Kaiser's mandate. A string of horse 
 and foot in serpentine knots stretched along the flat land, 
 flashing colours livelier than the spring-meadows bordering 
 their line of passage. Guy, with a nod for all, and a greet- 
 ing for the best-disposed, pushed on toward the van, till 
 the gathering block compelled him to adopt the snail's pace
 
 214 FARINA 
 
 of the advance party, and gave him work enough to keep 
 his two horses i'rom being jammed with the mass. Now 
 and then he cast a weather-eye on the heavens, and was 
 soon confirmed in an opinion he had repeatedly ejaculated, 
 that " the first night's camping would be a drencher." In 
 the West a black bank of cloud was blotting out the sun 
 before his time. North-east shone bare fields of blue lightly 
 touched with loose-floating strips and flakes of crimson 
 vapour. The furrows were growing purple-dark, and grad- 
 ually a low moaning obscurity enwrapped the whole line, 
 and muffled the noise of hoof, oath, and waggon-wheel in one 
 sullen murmur. 
 
 Guy felt very much like a chopped worm, as he wriggled 
 his way onward in the dusk, impelled from the rear, and 
 reduced to grope after the main body. Frequent and deep 
 counsel he took with a trusty flask suspended at his belt. 
 It was no pleasant reflection that the rain would be down 
 before he could build up anything like shelter for horse 
 and man. Still sadder the necessity of selecting his post 
 on strange ground, and in darkness. He kept an anxious 
 look-out for the moon, and was presently rejoiced to behold 
 a broad fire that twinkled branchy beams through an east- 
 hill orchard. 
 
 " My lord calls her Goddess," said Guy, wistfully. " The 
 title 's outlandish, and more the style of these foreigners : 
 but she may have it to-night, an she '11 just keep the storm 
 from shrouding her bright eye a matter of two hours." 
 
 She rose with a boding lustre. Drifts of thin pale upper- 
 cloud leaned down ladders, pure as virgin silver, for her to 
 £lirnb to her highest seat on the unrebellious half-circle of 
 heaven. 
 
 "My mind 's made up! " quoth Guy to the listening part 
 of himself. " Out of this I '11 get." 
 
 By the clearer ray he had discerned a narrow track run- 
 ning a white parallel with the general route. At the ex- 
 pense of dislocating a mile of the cavalcade, he struck into 
 it. A dyke had to be taken, some heavy fallows crossed, 
 and the way was straight before him. He began to sneer at 
 the slow jog-trot and absence of enterprise which made the 
 fellows he had left shine so poorly in comparison with the 
 Goshawk, but a sight of two cavaliers in advance checked
 
 THE RIDE AND THE RACE 215 
 
 his vanity, and now to overtake them he tasked his fat 
 Flemish mare with unwonted pricks of th3 heel, that made, 
 her fling out and show more mettle than speed. 
 
 The objects of this fiery chase did not at first awake to 
 a sense of being pursued. Both rode with mantled visages, 
 and appeared profoundly inattentive to the world outside 
 their meditations. But the Goshawk was not to be denied, 
 and by dint of alternately roaring at them and upbraiding 
 his two stumping beasts, he at last roused the younger of 
 the cavaliers, who called to his companion loudly : without 
 effect it seemed, for he had to repeat the warning. Guy 
 was close up with them, when the youth exclaimed : 
 " Father! holy father! 'T is Sathanas in person! " 
 The other rose and pointed trembling to a dark point in 
 the distance as he vociferated : 
 
 "Not here! not here; but yonder! " 
 Guy recognized the voice of the first speaker, and cried : 
 " Stay ! halt a second ! Have you forgotten the Goshawk ? " 
 "Never! " came the reply, "and forget not Farina!" 
 Spur and fleeter steeds carried them out of hearing ere 
 Guy could throw in another syllable. Farina gazed back 
 on him remorsefully, but the Monk now rated his assistant 
 with indignation. 
 
 "Thou weak one! nothing less than fool! to betray thy 
 name on such an adventure as this to soul save the saints! " 
 Farina tossed back his locks, and held his forehead to 
 the moon. All the Monk's ghostly wrath was foiled by 
 the one little last sweet word of his beloved, which made 
 music in his ears whenever annoyance sounded. 
 
 "And herein," say the old writers, "are lovers, who love 
 truly, truly recompensed for their toils and pains ; in that 
 love, for which they suffer, is ever present to ward away 
 suffering not sprung of love : but the disloyal, who serve not 
 love faithfully, are a race given over to whatso this base 
 world can wreak upon them, without consolation or com- 
 fort of their mistress, Love ; whom sacrificing not all to. 
 they know not to delight in." 
 
 The soul of a lover lives through every member of him 
 in the joy of a moonlight ride. Sorrow and grief are slow 
 distempers that crouch from the breeze, and nourish their 
 natures far from swift-moving things. A true lover is not
 
 216 FARINA 
 
 one of those melancholy flies that shoot and maze over 
 muddy stagnant pools. He must be up in the great air. 
 He must strike all the strings of life. Swiftness is his 
 rapture. In his wide arms he embraces the whole form 
 of beauty. Eagle-like are his instincts ; dove-like his de- 
 sires. Then the fair moon is the very presence of his 
 betrothed in heaven. So for hours rode Farina in a silver- 
 fleeting glory ; while the Monk, as a shadow, galloped 
 stern and silent beside him. So, crowning them in the 
 sky, one half was all love and light; one, blackness and 
 fell purpose. 
 
 THE COMBAT ON DRACHENFELS 
 
 Not to earth was vouchsafed the honour of commencing 
 the great battle of that night. By an expiring blue-shot 
 beam of moonlight, Farina beheld a vast realm of gloom 
 filling the hollow of the West, and the moon was soon ex- 
 tinguished behind sluggish scraps of iron scud detached 
 from the swinging bulk of ruin, as heavily it ground on the 
 atmosphere in the first thunder-launch of motion. 
 
 The heart of the youth was strong, but he could not view 
 without quicker fawning throbs this manifestation of im- 
 measurable power, which seemed as if with a stroke it was 
 capable of destroying creation and the works of man. The 
 bare aspect of the tempest lent terrors to the adventure 
 he was engaged in, and of which he knew not the aim, nor 
 might forecast the issue. Now there was nothing to il- 
 lumine their path but such forked flashes as lightning threw 
 them at intervals, touching here a hill with clustered cottages, 
 striking into day there a May-blossom, a patch of weed, a 
 single tree by the wayside. Suddenly a more vivid and 
 continuous quiver of violet fire met its reflection on the 
 landscape, and Farina saw the Rhine-stream beneath him. 
 
 " On such a night," thought he, " Siegfried fought and 
 slew the dragon! " 
 
 A blast of light, as from the jaws of the defeated dragon 
 in his throes, made known to him the country he traversed. 
 Crimsoned above the water .glimmered the monster-haunted
 
 THE COMBAT ON DBACHENFELS 217 
 
 rock itself, and mid-channel beyond, flat and black to the 
 stream, stretched the Nuns' Isle in cloistral peace. 
 
 "Halt!" cried the Monk, and signaled with a peculiar 
 whistle, to which he seemed breathlessly awaiting an an- 
 swer. They were immediately surrounded by long-robed 
 veiled figures. 
 
 " Not too late ? " the Monk hoarsely asked of them. 
 
 " Yet an hour ! " was the reply, in soft clear tones of a 
 woman's voice. 
 
 " Great strength and valour more than human be mine," 
 exclaimed the Monk, dismounting. 
 
 He passed apart from them ; and they drew in a circle, 
 while he prayed, kneeling. 
 
 Presently he returned, and led Farina to a bank, drawing 
 from some hiding-place a book and a bell, which he gave 
 into the hands of the youth. 
 
 " For thy soul, no word ! " said the Monk, speaking down 
 his throat as he took in breath. "Nay! not in answer to 
 me ! Be faithful, and more than earthly fortune is thine ; 
 for I say unto thee, I shall not fail, having grace to sustain 
 this combat." 
 
 Thereupon he commenced the ascent of Drachenfels. 
 
 Farina followed. He had no hint of the Monk's mission, 
 nor of the part himself was to play in it. Such a load of 
 silence gathered on his questioning spirit, that the outcry 
 of the raging elements alone prevented him from arresting 
 the Monk and demanding the end of his service there. 
 That outcry was enough to freeze speech on the very lips 
 of a mortal. For scarce had they got footing on the wind- 
 ing path of the crags, when the whole vengeance of the 
 storm was hurled against the mountain. Huge boulders 
 were loosened and came bowling from above : trees torn 
 by their roots from the fissures whizzed on the eddies of 
 the wind : torrents of rain foamed down the iron flanks of 
 rock, and flew off in hoar feathers against the short pauses 
 of darkness : the mountain heaved, and quaked, and yawned 
 a succession of hideous chasms. 
 
 " There 's a devil in this," thought Farina. He looked 
 back and marked the river imaging lurid abysses of cloud 
 above the mountain-summit — yea! and on the summit a 
 flaming shape was mirrored.
 
 218 FARINA 
 
 Two nervous hands stayed the cry on his mouth. 
 
 " Have I not warned thee ? " said the husky voice of the 
 Monk. "I may well watch, and think for thee as for a 
 dog. Be thou as faithful ! " 
 
 He handed a flask to the youth, and bade him drink. 
 Farina drank and felt richly invigorated. The Monk then 
 took bell and book. 
 
 " But half-an-hour, " he muttered, " for this combat that 
 is to ring through centuries." 
 
 Crossing himself, he strode wildly upward. Farina saw 
 him beckon back once, and the next instant he was lost 
 round an incline of the highest peak. 
 
 The wind that had just screamed a thousand death- 
 screams, was now awfully dumb, albeit Farina could feel 
 it lifting hood and hair. In the unnatural stillness his 
 ear received tones of a hymn chanted below; now sinking, 
 now swelling; as though the voices faltered between 
 prayer and inspiration. Farina caught on a projection of 
 crag, and fixed his eyes on what was passing on the 
 height. 
 
 There was the Monk in his brown hood and wrapper, 
 confronting — if he might trust his balls of sight — the 
 red-hot figure of the Prince of Darkness. 
 
 As yet no mortal tussle had taken place between them. 
 They were arguing: angrily, it was true: yet with the first 
 mutual deference of practiced logicians. Latin and Ger- 
 man was alternately employed by both. It thrilled 
 Farina's fervid love of fatherland to hear the German Satan 
 spoke : but his Latin was good, and his command over that 
 tongue remarkable; for, getting the worst of the argument, 
 as usual, he revenged himself by parodying one of the 
 Church canticles with a point that discomposed his adver- 
 sary, and caused him to retreat a step, claiming support 
 against such shrewd assault. 
 
 ' The use of an unexpected weapon in warfare is in itself 
 half a victory. Induce your antagonist to employ it as a 
 match for you, and reckon on completely routing him . . . ' 
 says the old military chronicle. 
 
 "Come!" said the Demon with easy raillery. "You 
 know your game — I mine ! I really want the good people 
 to be hapoy; dancing, kissing, propagating, what you
 
 THE COMBAT ON DRACHENFELS 219 
 
 will. We quite agree. You can have no objection to me, 
 but a foolish old prejudice — not personal, but class; an 
 antipathy of the cowl, for which I pardon you ! What I 
 should find in you to complain of — 1 have only to mention 
 it, I am sure — is, that perhaps you do speak a little too 
 much through your nose." 
 
 The Monk did not fall into the jocular trap by retorting 
 in the same strain. 
 
 1 Laugh with the Devil, and you won't laugh longest, 7 
 says the proverb. 
 
 Keeping to his own arms, the holy man frowned. 
 
 " Avaunt, Fiend ! " he cried. " To thy kingdom below ! 
 Thou hast raged over earth a month, causing blights, hur- 
 ricanes, and epidemics of the deadly sins. Parley no 
 more ! Begone ! — " 
 
 The Demon smiled : the corners of his mouth ran up to 
 his ears, and his eyes slid down almost into one. 
 
 " Still through the nose ! " said he reproachfully. 
 
 " I give thee Five Minutes ! " cried the Monk. 
 
 " I had hoped for a longer colloquy, " sighed the Demon, 
 jogging his left leg and trifling with his tail. 
 
 "One Minute! " exclaimed the Monk. 
 
 "Truly so! " said the Demon. "I know Old Time and 
 his habits better than you really can. We meet every 
 Saturday night, and communicate our best jokes. I keep 
 a book of them Down There ! " 
 
 And as if he had reason to remember the pavement of 
 his Halls, he stood tiptoe and whipped up his legs. 
 
 "Two Minutes!" 
 
 The Demon waved perfect acquiescence, and continued : 
 ''We understand each other, he and I. All Old Ones do. 
 As long as he lasts, I shall. The thing that surprises 
 me is, that you and I cannot agree, similar as we are Y 
 temperament, and playing for the long odds, both of us. 
 My failure is, perhaps, too great a passion for sport, ahai 
 Well, 't is a pity you won't try and live on the benevolent 
 principle. I am indeed kind to them who commiserate my 
 condition. I give them all they want, aha! Hem! Try 
 and not believe in me now, aha! Ho! . . . Can't you? 
 What are eyes ? Persuade yourself you 're dreaming. 
 v ou can do anything with a mind like yours, Father
 
 220 FARINA 
 
 Gregory! And consider the luxury of getting me out of 
 the way so easily, as many do. It is my finest suggestion, 
 aha! Generally I myself nudge their ribs with the capital 
 idea — You 're above bribes ? I was going to observe — " 
 
 "Three!" 
 — "Observe, that if you care for worldly honours, I can 
 smother you with that kind of thing. Several of your 
 first-rate people made a bargain with me when they were 
 in the fog, and owe me a trifle. Patronage they call it. 
 I hook the high and the low. Too-little and too-much 
 serve me better than Beelzebub. A weak stomach is cer- 
 tainly more carnally virtuous than a full one. Conse- 
 quently my kingdom is becoming too respectable. They 've 
 all got titles, and object to being asked to poke the fire 
 without — Honourable -and- with - Exceeding - Brightness- 
 Beaming Baroness This! Admirably -Benignant-Down- 
 looking Highness That! Interrupts business, especially 
 when you have to ask them to fry themselves, according 
 to the rules . . . Would you like Mainz and the Bheingau ? 
 . . . You don't care for Beauty — Puella, Puellse ? I have 
 plenty of them, too, below. The Historical Beauties 
 warmed up at a moment's notice. Modern ones made 
 famous between morning and night — Fame is the sauce 
 of Beauty. Or, no — eh ? " 
 
 "Four!" 
 
 " Not quite so fast, if you please. You want me gone. 
 Now, where 's your charity ? Do you ask me to be always 
 raking up those poor devils underneath ? While I 'm here, 
 they 've a respite. They cannot think you kind, Father 
 Gregory ! As for the harm, you see, I 'm not the more 
 agreeable by being face to face with you — though some 
 fair dames do take to my person monstrously. The secret 
 is, the quantity of small talk I can command : that makes 
 them forget my smell, which is, I confess, abominable, 
 displeasing to myself, and my worst curse. Your sort, 
 Father Gregory, are somewhat unpleasant in that partic- 
 ular — if I may judge by their Legate here. Well, try 
 small talk. They would fall desperately in love with 
 polecats and skunks if endowed with small talk. Why, 
 they have become enamoured of monks before now I If 
 skunks, why not monks ? And again — "
 
 THE COMBAT ON DRACHENFELS 221 
 
 "Five!" 
 
 Having solemnly bellowed this tremendous number, the 
 holy man lifted his arms to begin the combat. 
 
 Farina felt his nerves prick with admiration of the 
 ghostly warrior daring the Second Power of Creation on 
 that lonely mountain-top. He expected, and shuddered at 
 thought of the most awful fight ever yet chronicled of those 
 that have taken place between heroes and the hounds of 
 evil : but his astonishment was great to hear the Demon, 
 while Bell was in air and Book aloft, retreat, shouting, 
 "Hold!" 
 
 " I surrender," said he, sullenly. " What terms ? " 
 
 " Instantaneous riddance of thee from face of earth." 
 
 "Good! — Now," said the Demon, "did you suppose I 
 was to be trapped into a fight ? No doubt you wish to 
 become a saint, and have everybody talking of my last 
 defeat. . . . Pictures, poems, processions, with the Devil 
 downmost! No. You 're more than a match for me." 
 
 "Silence, Darkness!" thundered the Monk, "and think 
 not to vanquish thy victor by flatteries. Begone! " 
 
 And again he towered in his wrath. 
 
 The Demon drew his tail between his legs, and threw the 
 forked, fleshy, quivering end over his shoulder. He then 
 nodded cheerfully, pointed his feet, and finicked a few 
 steps away, saying: "I hope we shall meet again." 
 
 Upon that he shot out his wings, that were like the fins 
 of the wyver-fish, sharpened in venomous points. 
 
 " Commands for your people below ? " he inquired, leer- 
 ing with chin awry. "Desperate ruffians some of those 
 cowls. You are right not to acknowledge them." 
 
 Farina beheld the holy man in no mood to let the Enemy 
 tamper with him longer. 
 
 The Demon was influenced by a like reflection; for, 
 saying, "Cologne is the city your Holiness inhabits, I 
 think ? " he shot up rocket-like over Rhineland, striking 
 the entire length of the stream, and its rough-bearded 
 castle-crests, slate-ledges, bramble-clefts, vine-slopes, and 
 haunted valleys, with one brimstone flash. Frankfort and 
 the far Main saw him and reddened. Ancient Trier and 
 Mosel; Heidelberg and Neckar; Limberg and Lahn, ran 
 guilty of him. And the swift artery of these shining
 
 222 FARINA 
 
 veins, Rhine, from his snow cradle to his salt decease, 
 glimmered Stygian horrors as the Infernal Comet sprung 
 over Bonn, sparkled a fiery minute along the face of the 
 stream, and vanished, leaving a seam of ragged flame 
 trailed on the midnight heavens. 
 
 Farina breathed hard through his teeth. 
 
 "The last of him was awful," said he, coming forward to 
 where the Monk knelt and grasped his breviary, " but he 
 was vanquished easily." 
 
 "Easily?" exclaimed the holy man, gasping satisfac- 
 tion : " thou weakling ! is it for thee to measure difficulties, 
 or estimate powers ? Easily ? thou worldling! and so are 
 great deeds judged when the danger 's past! And what am 
 I but the humble instrument that brought about this won- 
 drous conquest! the poor tool of this astounding triumph! 
 Shall the sword say, This is the battle I won! Yonder the 
 enemy I overthrew! Bow to me, ye lords of earth, and 
 worshippers of mighty acts ? Not so! Nay, but the sword 
 is honoured in the hero's grasp, and if it break not, it is 
 accounted trusty. This, then, this little I may claim, that 
 I was trusty ! Trusty in a heroic encounter ! Trusty in a 
 battle with earth's terror! Oh! but this must not be said. 
 This is to think too much! This is to be more than aught 
 yet achieved by man ! " 
 
 The holy warrior crossed his arms, and gently bowed 
 his head. 
 
 "Take me to the Sisters," he said. "The spirit has 
 gone out of me ! I am faint, and as a child ! " 
 
 Farina asked, and had, his blessing. 
 
 " And with it my thanks ! " said the Monk. " Thou hast 
 witnessed how he can be overcome! Thou hast looked 
 upon a scene that will be the glory of Christendom! Thou 
 hast beheld the discomfiture of Darkness before the voice 
 of Light! Yet think not much of me: account me little in 
 this matter! I am but an instrument! but an instrument! 
 — and again, but an instrument! " 
 
 Farina drew the arms of the holy combatant across his 
 shoulders and descended Drachenfels. 
 
 The tempest was as a forgotten anguish. Bright with 
 maiden splendour shone the moon; and the old rocks, 
 cherished in her beams, put up their horns to blue heaven
 
 THE COMBAT ON DRACHEKFELS 223 
 
 once more. All the leafage of the land shook as to shake 
 off a wicked dream, and shuddered from time to time, 
 whispering of old fears quieted, and present peace. The 
 heart of the river fondled with the image of the moon in 
 its depths. 
 
 "This is much to have won for earth," murmured the 
 Monk. " And what is life, or who would not risk all, to 
 snatch such loveliness from the talons of the Fiend, the 
 Arch-foe ? Yet, not I! not I! say not, 'twas I did this! " 
 
 Soft praises of melody ascended to them on the moist 
 fragrance of air. It was the hymn of the Sisters. 
 
 "How sweet! " murmured the Monk. "Put it from me! 
 away with it! " 
 
 Kising on Farina's back and stirruping his feet on the 
 thighs of the youth, he cried aloud : " I charge ye, whoso 
 ye be, sing not this deed before the emperor! By the 
 breath of your nostrils, pause! ere ye whisper aught of 
 the combat of Saint Gregory with Satan, and his vic- 
 tory, and the marvel of it, while he liveth; for he would 
 die the humble monk he is." 
 
 He resumed his seat, and Farina brought him into the 
 circle of the Sisters. Those pure women took him, and 
 smoothed him, lamenting, and filling the night with 
 triumphing tones. 
 
 Farina stood apart. 
 
 "The breeze tells of dawn," said the Monk; "we must 
 be in Cologne before broad day." 
 
 They mounted horse, and the Sisters grouped and rever- 
 enced under the blessing of the Monk. 
 
 "No word of it! " said the Monk warningly. 
 
 "We are silent, Father!" they answered. 
 
 "Cologne-ward!" was then his cry, and away he and 
 Farina flew.
 
 224 FARINA 
 
 THE GOSHAWK LEADS 
 
 Morning was among the gray eastern clouds as they rode 
 upon the camp hastily formed to meet the Kaiser. All 
 there was in a wallow of confusion. Fierce struggles for 
 precedence still went on in the neighbourhood of the 
 imperial tent ground, where, under the standard of Ger- 
 many, lounged some veterans of the Kaiser's guard, calmly 
 watching the scramble. Up to the edge of the cultivated 
 land nothing was to be seen but brawling clumps of war- 
 riors asserting the superior claims of their respective lords. 
 Variously and hotly disputed were these claims, as many 
 red coxcombs testified. Across that point where the green 
 field flourished, not a foot was set, for the Kaiser's care of 
 the farmer, and affection for good harvests, made itself 
 respected even in the heat of those jealous rivalries. It 
 was said of him, that he would have camped in a bog, or 
 taken quarters in a cathedral, rather than trample down 
 a green blade of wheat, or turn over one vine-pole in the 
 empire. Hence the presence of Kaiser Heinrich was 
 never hailed as Egypt's plague by the peasantry, but wel- 
 come as the May month wherever he went. 
 
 Father Gregory and Farina found themselves in the cen- 
 tre of a group ere they drew rein, and a cry rose, " The good 
 father shall decide, and all's fair," followed by, "Agreed! 
 Hail and tempest! he 's dropped down o' purpose." 
 
 " Father, " said one, " here it is ! I say I saw the Devil 
 himself fly off Drachenfels, and flop into Cologne. Fritz 
 here, and Frankenbauch, saw him too. They '11 swear to 
 him: so '11 I. Hell's thunder! will we. Yonder fellows 
 will have it 't was a flash o' lightning, as if I did n't see 
 him, horns, tail, and claws, and a mighty sight 't was, as 
 I'm a sinner." 
 
 A clash of voices, for the Devil and against him, burst 
 on this accurate description of the Evil spirit. The Monk 
 sank his neck into his chest. 
 
 "Gladly would I hold silence on this, my sons," said 
 he, in a supplicating voice.
 
 THE GOSHAWK LEADS 225 
 
 "Speak, Father," cried the first spokesman, gathering 
 courage from the looks of the Monk. 
 
 Father Gregory appeared to commune with himself 
 deeply. At last, lifting his head, and murmuring, "It 
 must be," he said aloud: 
 
 " 'T was verily Satan, O my sons! Him this night in 
 mortal combat 1 encountered and overcame on the summit 
 of Drachenfels, before the eyes of this youth; and from 
 Satan I this night deliver ye! an instrument herein as 
 in all other." 
 
 Shouts, and a far-spreading buzz resounded in the camp. 
 Hundreds had now seen Satan flying off the Drachenstein. 
 Father Gregory could no longer hope to escape from the 
 importunate crowds that beset him for particulars. The 
 much-contested point now was, as to the exact position of 
 Satan's tail during his airy circuit, before descending into 
 Cologne. It lashed like a lion's. 'Twas cocked, for cer- 
 tain ! He sneaked it between his legs like a lurcher ! He 
 made it stumpy as a brown bear's ! He carried it upright 
 as a pike! 
 
 " my sons ! have I sown dissension ? Have I not given 
 ye peace ? " exclaimed the Monk. 
 
 But they continued to discuss it with increasing frenzy ._ 
 
 Farina cast a glance over the tumult, and beheld his 
 friend Guy beckoning earnestly. He had no difficulty in 
 getting away to him, as the fetters of all eyes were on the 
 Monk alone. 
 
 The Goshawk was stamping with excitement. 
 
 "Not a moment to be lost, my lad," said Guy, catching 
 his arm. " Here, I 've had half-a-dozen fights already for 
 this bit of ground. Do you know that fellow squatting 
 there ? " 
 
 Farina beheld the Thier at the entrance of a tumble-down 
 tent. He was ruefully rubbing a broken head. 
 
 "Now," continued Guy, "to mount him is the thing; 
 and then after the wolves of Werner as fast as horse-flesh 
 can carry us. No questions ! Bound, are you ? And 
 what am I ? But this is life and death, lad! Hark! " 
 
 The Goshawk whispered something that sucked the 
 blood out of Farina's cheek. 
 
 "Look you — what's your lockjaw name? Keep good
 
 126 FARINA 
 
 faith with me, and you shall have your revenge, and the 
 shiners I promise, besides my lord's interest for a better 
 master: but, sharp! we won't mount till we're out of 
 sight o' the hell-scum you horde with." 
 
 The Thier stood up and staggered after them through the 
 camp. There was no difficulty in mounting him: horses 
 were loose, and scamperiDg about the country, not yet 
 delivered from their terrors of the last night's tempest. 
 
 " Here be we, three good men ! " exclaimed Guy, when 
 they were started, and Farina had hurriedly given him the 
 heads of his adventure with the Monk. " Three good men! 
 One has helped to kick the devil: one has served an 
 apprenticeship to his limb : and one is ready to meet him 
 foot to foot any day, which last should be myself. Not a 
 man more do we want, though it were to fish up that 
 treasure you talk of being under the Rhine there, and 
 guarded by I don't know how many tricksy little villains. 
 Horses can be ferried across at Linz, you say ? " 
 
 "Ay, thereabout," grunted the Thier. 
 
 " We ' re on the right road, then ! " said Guy. " Thanks to 
 you both, I 've had no sleep for two nights — not a wink, 
 and must snatch it going — not the first time." 
 
 The Goshawk bent his body, and spoke no more. Farina 
 could not get a word further from him. By the mastery he 
 still had over his rein, the Goshawk alone proved that he 
 was of the world of the living. Schwartz Thier, rendered 
 either sullen or stunned by the latest cracked crown he had 
 received, held his jaws close as if they had been nailed. 
 
 At Linz the horses were well breathed. The Goshawk, 
 who had been snoring an instant before, examined them 
 keenly, and shook his calculating head. 
 
 "Punch that beast of yours in the ribs," said he to 
 Farina. "Ah! not a yard of wind in him. And there's 
 the coming back, when we shall have more to carry. Well : 
 this is my lord's money; but i' faith, it's going in a good 
 cause, and Master Groschen will make it all right, no doubt; 
 not a doubt of it." 
 
 The Goshawk had seen some excellent beasts in the 
 stables of the Kaiser's Krone; but the landlord would 
 make no exchange without an advance of silver. This 
 done, the arrangement was prompt.
 
 THE GOSHAWK LEADS 227 
 
 " Schwartz Thier ! — I 've got your name now," said Guy, 
 as they were ferrying across, "you're stiff certain they 
 left Cologne with the maiden yesternoon, now ? " 
 
 " Ah, did they ! and she 's at the Eck safe enow by this 
 time." 
 
 " And away from the Eck this night she shall come, trust 
 me!" 
 
 " Or there will I die with her ! " cried Farina. 
 
 "Fifteen men at most, he has, you said," continued 
 Guy. "Two not sound, five true as steel, and the rest 
 shilly-shally. 'Slife, one lock loose serves us; but two 
 saves us : five we 're a match for, throwing in bluff Baron ; 
 the remainder go with victory." 
 
 " Can we trust this fellow ? " whispered Farina. 
 
 " Trust him ! " roared Guy. " Why, I 've thumped him, 
 lad; pegged and pardoned him. Trust him? trust me! 
 If Werner catches a sight of that snout of his within 
 half-a-mile of his hold, he'll roast him alive." 
 
 He lowered his voice : " Trust him ? We can do nothing 
 without him. I knocked the devil out of him early this 
 morning. No chance for his Highness anywhere now. 
 This Eck of Werner's would stand a siege from the Kaiser 
 in person, I hear. We must into it like weasels; and out 
 as we can." 
 
 Dismissing the ferry-barge with stern injunctions to be 
 in waiting from noon to noon, the three leapt on their 
 fresh nags. 
 
 " Stop at the first village, " said Guy ; " we must lay in 
 provision. As Master Groschen says, ' Nothing 's to be 
 done, Turpin, without provender. ' " 
 
 " Goshawk ! " cried Farina ; " you have time ; tell me how 
 this business was done." 
 
 The only reply was a soft but decided snore, that spoke, 
 like a voluptuous trumpet, of dreamland and its visions. 
 
 At Sinzig, the Thier laid his hand on Guy's bridle, with 
 the words, "Feed here," a brief, but effective, form of 
 signal, which aroused the Goshawk completely. The sign 
 of the Trauben received them. Here, wurst reeking with 
 garlic, eggs, black bread, and sour wine, was all they 
 could procure. Farina refused to eat, and maintained hi,s 
 resolution, in spite of Guy's sarcastic chiding.
 
 228 FARINA 
 
 "Rub down the beasts, then, and water them," said the 
 latter. " Made a vow, I suppose, " muttered Guy. " That 's 
 the way of those fellows. No upright manly take-the- 
 thing-as-it-comes; but fly -sky-high whenever there 's a dash 
 on their heaven. What has his belly done to offend him ? 
 It will be crying out just when we want all quiet. I 
 would n't pay Werner such a compliment as go without a 
 breakfast for him. Not I ! Would you, Schwartz Thier ? " 
 
 " Henker! not I! " growled the Thier. "He '11 lose one 
 sooner." 
 
 "First snatch his prey, or he '11 be making, God save us! 
 a meal for a Kaiser, the brute." 
 
 Guy called in the landlady, clapped down the score, and 
 abused the wine. 
 
 "Sir," said the landlady, "ours is but a poor inn, and 
 we do our best." 
 
 "So you do," replied the Goshawk, softened; "and I 
 say that a civil tongue and rosy smiles sweeten even 
 sour wine." 
 
 The landlady, a summer widow, blushed, and as he was 
 stepping from the room, called him aside. 
 
 "I thought you were one of that dreadful Werner's 
 band, and I hate him." 
 
 Guy undeceived her. 
 
 "He took my sister," she went on, "and his cruelty 
 killed her. He persecuted me even in the lifetime of my 
 good man. Last night he came here in the middle of the 
 storm with a young creature bright as an angel, and 
 sorrowful 
 
 a 
 
 1 He 's gone, you 're sure ? " broke in Guy. 
 
 " Gone ! Oh, yes ! Soon as the storm abated he dragged 
 her on. Oh ! the way that young thing looked at me, and 
 I able to do nothing for her." 
 
 "Now, the Lord bless you for a rosy Christian! " cried 
 Guy, and, in his admiration, he flung his arm round her 
 and sealed a ringing kiss on each cheek. 
 
 "No good man defrauded by that! and let me see the 
 fellow that thinks evil of it. If I ever told a woman a 
 secret, I 'd tell you one now, trust me. But I never do, so 
 farewell ! Not another ? " 
 
 Hasty times keep the feelings in a ferment, and the
 
 WERNER'S ECK 22* 
 
 landlady was extremely angry with Guy and heartih for- 
 gave him, all within a minute. 
 
 "No more," said she, laughing: "but ivaitj I have 
 something for you." 
 
 The Goshawk lingered on a fretting heel. She was 
 quickly under his elbow again with two flasks leaning from 
 her bosom to her arms. 
 
 " There ! I seldom meet a man like you ; and, when I do, 
 I like to be remembered. This is a true good wine, real 
 Liebfrauenmilch, which I only give to choice customers." 
 
 "Welcome it is!" sang Guy to her arch looks ; "but I 
 must pay for it." 
 
 "Not a pfennig! " said the landlady. 
 
 "Not one?" 
 
 " Not one ! " she repeated, with a stamp of the foot. 
 
 "In other coin, then," quoth Guy; and folding her waist, 
 which did not this time back away, the favoured Goshawl 
 registered rosy payment on a very fresh red mouth, receiv 
 ing in return such lively discount, that he felt himsek 
 bound in conscience to make up the full sum a secoml 
 time. 
 
 " What a man ! " sighed the landlady, as she watched the 
 Goshawk lead off along the banks ; " courtly as a knighv, 
 open as a squire, and gentle as a page ! " 
 
 WERNER'S ECK 
 
 A league behind Andernach, and more in the win»ry 
 circle of the sun than Laach, its convenient monastic 
 neighbour, stood the castle of Werner, the Robber Baron. 
 Far into the South, hazy with afternoon light, a yellow 
 succession of sandhills stretch away, spouting fire against 
 the blue sky of an elder world, but now dead and barren of 
 herbage. Around is a dusty plain, where the green blades 
 of spring no sooner peep than they become grimed with 
 sand and take an aged look, in accordance with the ungen- 
 erous harvests they promise. The aridity of the prospect 
 is relieved on one side by the lofty woods of Laach,
 
 230 FARINA 
 
 through which the sun setting burns golden-red, and on the 
 other by the silver sparkle of a narrow winding stream, 
 bordered with poplars, and seen but a glistening mile of 
 its length by all the thirsty hills. The Eck, or Corner, 
 itself, is thick-set with wood, but of a stunted growth, and 
 lying like a dark patch on the landscape. It served, how- 
 ever, entirely to conceal the castle, and mask every move- 
 ment of the wary and terrible master. A trained eye 
 advancing on the copse would hardly mark the glimmer of 
 the turrets over the topmost leaves, but to every loophole 
 of the walls lies bare the circuit of the land. Werner 
 could rule with a glance the Rhine's course down from the 
 broad rock over Coblentz to the white tower of Andernach. 
 He claimed that march as his right; but the Mosel was no 
 hard ride's distance, and he gratified his thirst for rapine 
 chiefly on that river, delighting in it, consequently, as 
 much as his robber nature boiled over the bound of his 
 feudal privileges. 
 
 Often had the Baron held his own against sieges and re- 
 strictions, bans and impositions of all kinds. He boasted 
 that there was never a knight within twenty miles of him 
 that he had not beaten, nor monk of the same limit not in 
 his pay. This braggadocio received some warrant from 
 his yearly increase of licence; and his craft and his castle 
 combined, made him a notable pest of the region, a scandal 
 to the abbey whose countenance he had, and a frightful 
 infliction on the poorer farmers and peasantry. 
 
 The sun was beginning to slope over Laach, and threw 
 the shadows of the abbey-towers half-way across the blue 
 lake-waters, as two men in the garb of husbandmen emerged 
 from the wood. Their feet plunged heavily and their heads 
 hung down, as they strode beside a wain mounted with 
 straw, whistling an air of stupid unconcern; but a close 
 listener might have heard that the lumbering vehicle 
 carried a human voice giving them directions as to the 
 road they were to take, and what sort of behaviour to 
 observe under certain events. The land was solitary. A 
 boor passing asked whether toll or tribute they were con- 
 veying to Werner. Tribute, they were advised to reply, 
 which caused him to shrug and curse as he jogged on. 
 Hearing him, the voice in the wain chuckled grimly.
 
 Werner's eck 231 
 
 Their next speech was with a trooper, who overtook them, 
 and wanted to know what they had in the wain for Werner. 
 Tribute, they replied, and won the title of "brave j>igs " 
 for their trouble. 
 
 " But what 's the dish made of ?" said the trooper, stirring 
 the straw with his sword-point. 
 
 "Tribute," came the answer. 
 
 "Ha! You've not been to Werner's school," and the 
 trooper swung a sword-stroke at the taller of the two, 
 sending a tremendous shudder throughout his frame; but 
 he held his head to the ground, and only seemed to betray 
 animal consciousness in leaning his ear closer to the wain. 
 
 "Blood and storm! Will ye speak ?" cried the trooper. 
 
 "Never talk much; but an ye say nothing to the Baron," 
 — thrusting his hand into the straw — "here's what's 
 better than speaking." 
 
 " Well said! — Eh ? Liebfrauenmilch ? Ho, ho! a rare 
 bleed!" 
 
 Striking the neck of the flask on a wheel, the trooper ap- 
 plied it to his mouth, and ceased not deeply ingurgitating 
 till his face was broad to the sky and the bottle reversed. 
 He then dashed it down, sighed, and shook himself. 
 
 "Bare news! the Kaiser's come: he '11 be in Cologne by 
 night; but first he must see the Baron, and I 'm post with 
 the order. That 's to show you how high he stands in the 
 Kaiser's grace. Don't be thinking of upsetting W T erner 
 yet, any of you; mind, now! " 
 
 "That's Blass-Gesell," said the voice in the wain, as 
 the trooper trotted on : adding, " 'gainst us." 
 
 "Makes six," responded the driver. 
 
 Within sight of the Eck, they descried another trooper 
 coming toward them. This time the driver was first to 
 speak. 
 
 "Tribute! Provender! Bread and wine for the high 
 Baron Werner from his vassals over Tonnistein." 
 
 " And I 'm out of it! fasting like a winter wolf," howled 
 the fellow. 
 
 He was in the act of addressing himself to an inspection 
 of the wain's contents, when a second flask lifted in air, 
 gave a sop to his curiosity. This flask suffered the fate of 
 the former.
 
 132 FARINA 
 
 " A Swabian blockhead, are n't you ? " 
 
 "Ay, that country," said the driver. "May be, Henker 
 ftothhals happens to be with the Baron ? " 
 
 " To hell with him ! I wish he had niy job, and I his, of 
 watching the yellow-bird in her new cage, till she 's taken 
 out to-night, and then a jolly bumper to the Baron all 
 round." 
 
 The driver wished him a fortunate journey, strongly 
 recommending him to skirt the abbey westward, and go by 
 the Ahr valley, as there was something stirring that way, 
 and mumbling, " Makes five again, " as he put the wheels 
 in motion. 
 
 "Goshawk!" said his visible companion; "what do you 
 say now ? " 
 
 " I say, bless that widow ! " 
 
 " Oh ! bring me face to face with this accursed Werner 
 quickly, my Gocl ! " gasped the youth. 
 
 "Tush! 'tis not Werner we want — there's the Thier 
 speaking. No, no, Schwartz Thier! I trust you, no 
 doubt ; but the badger smells at a hole, before he goes in- 
 side it. We 're strangers, and are allowed to miss our way." 
 
 Leaving the Avain in Farina's charge, he pushed through 
 a dense growth of shrub and underwood, and came crouch- 
 ing on a precipitous edge of shrouded crag, which com- 
 manded a view of the stronghold, extending round it, as if 
 scooped clean by some natural action, about a stone's-throw 
 distant, and nearly level with the look-out tower. Sheer 
 from a deep circular basin clothed with wood, and bottomed 
 with grass and bubbling water, rose a naked moss-stained 
 rock, on whose peak the castle firmly perched, like a spy- 
 ing hawk. The only means of access was by a narrow 
 natural bridge of rock flung from this insulated pinnacle 
 across to the mainland. One man, well disposed, might 
 have held it against forty. 
 
 "Our way's the best," thought Guy, as he meditated 
 every mode of gaining admission. "A hundred men an 
 hour might be lost cutting steps up that steep slate ; and 
 once at the top we should only have to be shoved down 
 again." 
 
 While thus engaged, he heard a summons sounded from 
 the castle, and scrambled back to Farina.
 
 wern rail's ECK 233 
 
 "The Thier leads now," said he, "and who leads is cap- 
 tain. It seems easier to get out of that than in. There 's 
 a square tower, and a round. I guess the maiden to be 
 in the round. Now, lad, no crying out — You don't come 
 in with us ; but back you go for the horses, and have them 
 ready and fresh in yon watered meadow under the castle. 
 The path down winds easy." 
 
 " Man ! " cried Farina, " what do you take me for ? — go 
 you for the horses." 
 
 "Not for a fool," Guy rejoined, tightening his lip; "but 
 now is your time to prove yourself one." 
 
 " With you, or without you, I enter that castle ! " 
 
 " Oh ! if you want to be served up hot for the Baron's 
 supper-mess, by all means." 
 
 "Thunder!" growled Schwartz Thier, "aren't ye 
 moving ? " 
 
 The Goshawk beckoned Farina aside. 
 
 "Act as I tell you, or I 'm for Cologne." 
 
 "Traitor! " muttered the youth. 
 
 " Swearing this, that if we fail, the Baron shall need a 
 leech sooner than a bride." 
 
 "That stroke must be mine! " 
 
 The Goshawk griped the muscle of Farina's arm till the 
 youth was compelled to slacken it with pain. 
 
 "Could you drive a knife through a six-inch wood-wall ? 
 I doubt this wild boar wants a harder hit than many a best 
 man could give. 'S blood! obey, sirrah. How shall we 
 keep yon fellow true, if he sees we 're at points ? " 
 
 "I yield," exclaimed Farina with a fall of the chest; 
 "but hear I nothing of you by midnight — Oh! then think 
 not I shall leave another minute to chance. Farewell! 
 haste! Heaven prosper you! You will see her, and die 
 under her eyes. That may be denied to me. What have 
 I done to be refused that last boon ? " 
 
 "Gone without breakfast and dinner," said Guy in 
 abhorrent tones. 
 
 A whistle from the wain, following a noise of the castle- 
 gates being flung open, called the Goshawk away, and he 
 slouched his shoulders and strode to do his part, without 
 another word. Farina gazed after him, and dropped into 
 the covert.
 
 234 FABINA 
 
 THE WATER-LADY 
 
 'Bird of lovers! Voice of the passion of love! Sweet, 
 deep, disaster-toning nightingale!' sings the old minne- 
 singer; ' who that has not loved, hearing thee is touched 
 with the wand of love's mysteries, and yearneth to he 
 knoweth not whom, humbled by overfulness of heart; but 
 who, listening, already loveth, heareth the language he 
 would speak, yet faileth in; feeleth the great tongueless 
 sea of his infinite desires stirred beyond his narrow bosom ; 
 is as one stript of wings whom the angels beckon to their 
 silver homes : and he leaneth forward to ascend to them, 
 and is mocked by his effort : then is he of the fallen, and 
 of the fallen would he remain, but that tears lighten him, 
 and through the tears stream jewelled shafts dropt down 
 to him from the sky, precious ladders inlaid with amethyst, 
 sapphire, blended jasper, beryl, rose-ruby, ether of 
 heaven flushed with softened bloom of the insufferable 
 Presences: and lo, the ladders dance, and quiver, and 
 waylay his eyelids, and a second time he is mocked, aspir- 
 ing: and after the third swoon standeth Hope before him 
 with folded arms, and eyes dry of the delusions of tears, 
 saying, Thou hast seen! thou hast felt! thy strength hath 
 reached in thee so far! now shall I never die in thee! ' 
 
 i For surely, ' says the minstrel, ' Hope is not born of 
 earth, or it were perishable. Rather know her the offspring 
 of that embrace strong love straineth the heavens with. 
 This owe we to thy music, bridal nightingale ! And the 
 difference of this celestial spirit from the smirking phan- 
 tasy of whom all stand soon or late forsaken, is the differ- 
 ence between painted day -with its poor ambitious snares, 
 and night lifting its myriad tapers round the throne of the 
 eternal, the prophet stars of everlasting time! And the 
 one dieth, and the other liveth ; and the one is unregretted, 
 and the other walketh in thought-spun raiment of divine 
 melancholy; her ears crowded with the pale surges that 
 wrap this shifting shore; in her eyes a shape of beauty
 
 THE WATER-LADY 235 
 
 floating dimly, that she will not attain this side the water, 
 but broodeth on evermore. 
 
 ' Therefore, hold on thy cherished four long notes, which 
 are as the very edge where exultation and anguish melt, 
 meet, and are sharpened to one ecstasy, death-dividing 
 bird! Fill the woods with passionate chuckle and sob, 
 sweet chaplain of the marriage-service of a soul with 
 heaven! Four out thy holy wine of song upon the soft- 
 footed darkness, till, like a priest of the inmost temple, 
 'tis drunken with fair intelligences!' 
 
 Thus the old minstrels and minnesingers. 
 
 Strong and full sang the nightingales that night Farina 
 held watch by the guilty castle that entombed his living 
 beloved. The castle looked itself a denser shade among 
 the moon-thrown shadows of rock and tree. The meadow 
 spread like a green courtyard at the castle's foot. It was 
 of lush deep emerald grass, softly mixed with gray in the 
 moon's light, and showing like jasper. Where the shadows 
 fell thickest, there was yet a mist of colour. All about 
 ran a brook, and babbled to itself. The spring crocus 
 lifted its head in moist mid-grasses of the meadow, rejoiced 
 with freshness. The rugged heights seemed to clasp this 
 one innocent spot as their only garden-treasure; and a 
 bank of hazels hid it from the castle with a lover's arm. 
 
 "The moon will tell me," mused Farina; "the moon will 
 signal me the hour! When the moon hangs over the round 
 tower, I shall know 't is time to strike." 
 
 The song of the nightingales was a full unceasing throb. 
 It went like the outcry of one heart from branch to branch. 
 The four long notes, and the short fifth which leads off to 
 that hurried gush of music, gurgling rich with passion, 
 came thick and constant from under the tremulous leaves. 
 
 At first Farina had been deaf to them. His heart was in 
 the dungeon with Margarita, or with the Goshawk in his 
 dangers, forming a thousand desperate plans, among the 
 red-hot ploughshares of desperate action. Finally, with- 
 out a sense of being wooed, it was won. The tenderness 
 of his love then mastered him. 
 
 " God will not suffer that fair head to come to harm ! " 
 he thought, and with the thought a load fell off his breast.
 
 236 FARINA 
 
 He paced the meadows, and patted the three pasturing 
 steeds. Involuntarily his sight grew on the moon. She 
 went so slowly. She seemed not to move at all. A little 
 wing of vapour flew toward her ; it whitened, passed, and 
 the moon was slower than before. Oh ! were the heavens 
 delaying their march to look on this iniquity ? Again 
 and again he cried, " Patience, it is not time ! " He flung 
 himself on the grass. The next moment he climbed the 
 heights, and was peering at the mass of gloom that fronted 
 the sky. It reared such a mailed head of menace, that his 
 heart was seized with a quivering, as though it had been 
 struck. Behind lay scattered some small faint-twinkling 
 stars on sapphire fields, and a stain of yellow light was in 
 a breach of one wall. 
 
 He descended. What was the Goshawk doing ? Was 
 he betrayed? It was surely now time? No; the moon 
 had not yet smitten the face of the castle. He made his 
 way through the hazel-bank among flitting night-moths, 
 and glanced up to measure the moon's distance. As he 
 did so, a first touch of silver fell on the hoary flint. 
 
 "Oh, young bird of heaven in that Devil's clutch! " 
 
 Sounds like the baying of boar-hounds alarmed him. 
 They whined into silence. 
 
 He fell back. The meadow breathed peace, and more 
 and more the nightingales volumed their notes. As in a 
 charmed circle of palpitating song, he succumbed to lan- 
 guor. The brook rolled beside him fresh as an infant, 
 toying with the moonlight. He leaned over it, and thrice 
 waywardly dipped his hand in the clear translucence. 
 
 Was it his own face imaged there ? 
 
 Farina bent close above an eddy of the water. It whirled 
 with a strange tumult, breaking into lines and lights a face 
 not his own, nor the moon's ; nor was it a reflection. The 
 agitation increased. Now a wreath of bubbles crowned the 
 pool, and a pure water-lily, but larger, ascended wavering. 
 
 He started aside; and under him a bright head, garlanded 
 with gemmed roses, appeared. No fairer figure of woman 
 had Farina seen. Her visage had the lustrous white of 
 moonlight, and all her shape undulated in a dress of flash- 
 ing silver-white, wonderful to see. The Lady of the 
 Water smiled on him, and ran over with ripples and dim-
 
 THE WATER-LADY 237 
 
 pies of limpid beauty. Then, as he retreated on the 
 meadow grass, she swam toward him, and taking his hand, 
 pressed it to her. After her touch the youth no longer 
 feared. She curved her finger, and beckoned him on. All 
 that she did was done flowingly. The youth was a shadow 
 in her silver track as she passed like a harmless wave over 
 the closed crocuses; but the crocuses shivered and swelled 
 their throats of streaked purple and argent as at delicious 
 rare sips of a wine. Breath of violet, and ladysmock, and 
 valley-lily, mingled and fluttered about her. Farina was 
 as a man working the day's intent in a dream. He could 
 see the heart in her translucent, hanging like a cold dingy 
 ruby. By the purity of his nature, he felt that such a pres- 
 ence must have come but to help. It might be Margarita's 
 guardian fairy ! 
 
 They passed the hazel-bank, and rounded the castle-crag, 
 washed by the brook and, beneath the advancing moon, 
 standing in a ring of brawling silver. The youth with his 
 fervid eyes marked the old weather-stains and scars of long 
 defiance coming into colour. That mystery of wickedness 
 which the towers had worn in the dusk, was dissolved, and 
 he endured no more the almost abashed sensation of com- 
 peting littleness that made him think there was nought to 
 do, save die, combating single-handed such massive power. 
 The moon shone calmly superior, like the prowess of 
 maiden knights; and now the harsh frown of the walls 
 struck resolution to his spirit, and nerved him with hate 
 and the contempt true courage feels when matched against 
 fraud and villany. 
 
 On a fallen block of slate, cushioned with rich brown 
 moss and rusted weather-stains, the Water-Lady sat, and 
 pointed to Farina the path of the moon toward the round 
 tower. She did not speak, and if his lips parted, put her 
 cold finger across them. Then she began to hum a soft 
 sweet monotony of song, vague and careless, very witching 
 to hear. Farina caught no words, nor whether the song 
 was of days in dust or in flower, but his mind bloomed 
 with legends and sad splendours of story, while she sang 
 on the slate-block under sprinkled shadows by the water. 
 
 He had listened long in trance, when the Water-Lady 
 hushed, and stretched forth a slender forefinger to the
 
 238 FARINA 
 
 moon. It stood like a dot over the round tower. Farina 
 rose in haste. She did not leave him to ask her aid, but 
 took his hand and led him up the steep ascent. Half-way 
 to the castle, she rested. There, concealed by bramble- 
 tufts, she disclosed the low portal of a secret passage, and 
 pushed it open without effort. She paused at the entrance, 
 and he could see her trembling, seeming to wax taller, till 
 she was like a fountain glittering in the cold light. Then 
 she dropped, as drops a dying jet, and cowered into the 
 passage. 
 
 Darkness, thick with earth-dews, oppressed his senses. 
 He felt the clammy walls scraping close on him. Not the 
 dimmest lamp, or guiding sound, was near; but the lady 
 went on as one who knew her way. Passing a low-vaulted 
 dungeon-room, they wound up stairs hewn in the rock, and 
 came to a door, obedient to her touch, which displayed a 
 chamber faintly misted by a solitary bar of moonlight. 
 Farina perceived they were above the foundation of the 
 castle. The walls gleamed pale with knightly harness, 
 habergeons gaping for heads, breast-plates of blue steel, 
 halbert, and hand-axe, greaves, glaives, boar-spears, and 
 polished spur-fixed heel-pieces. He seized a falchion 
 hanging apart, but the lady stayed his arm, and led to 
 another flight of stone ending in a kind of corridor. Noises 
 of laughter and high feasting beset him at this point. 
 The Lady of the Water sidled her head, as to note a 
 familiar voice; and then drew him to a looped aperture. 
 
 Farina beheld a scene that first dazzled, but, as it grew 
 into shape, sank him with dismay. Below, and level with 
 the chamber he had left, a rude banqueting-hall glowed, 
 under the light of a dozen flambeaux, with smoking boar's 
 flesh, deer's flesh, stone-flagons, and horn-beakers. At 
 the head of this board sat Werner, scarlet with furious 
 feasting, and on his right hand, Margarita, bloodless as a 
 beautiful martyr bound to the fire. Retainers of Werner 
 occupied the length of the hall, chorusing the Baron's 
 speeches, and drinking their own healths when there was 
 no call for another. Farina saw his beloved alone. She 
 was dressed as when he parted with her last. The dear 
 cameo lay on her bosom, but not heaving proudly as of old. 
 Her shoulders were drooped forward, and contracted her
 
 THE "WATER-LADY 239 
 
 bosom in its heaving. She would have had a humbled 
 look, but for the marble sternness of her eyes. They were 
 fixed as eyes that see the way of death through all earthly 
 objects. 
 
 " Now, dogs ! " cried the Baron, " the health of the night! 
 and swell your lungs, for I '11 have no cat's cry when Wer- 
 ner's bride is the toast. Monk or no monk's leave, she 's 
 mine. Ay, my pretty one ! it shall be made right in the 
 morning, if I lead all the Laach rats here by the nose. 
 Thunder! no disrespect to Werner's bride from Pope or 
 abbot. Now, sing out! — or wait! these fellows shall 
 drink it first." 
 
 He stretched and threw a beaker of wine right and left 
 behind him, and Farina's despair stiffened his limbs as he 
 recognized the Goshawk and Schwartz Thier strapped to 
 the floor. Their beards were already moist with previous 
 libations similarly bestowed, and they received this in 
 sullen stillness; but Farina thought he observed a rapid 
 glance of encouragement dart from beneath the Goshawk's 
 bent brows, as Margarita momentarily turned her head 
 half-way on him. 
 
 " Lick your chaps, ye beasts, and don't say Werner stints 
 vermin good cheer his nuptial-night. Now," continued the 
 Baron, growing huskier as he talked louder: "short and 
 ringing, my devil's pups: — Werner and his Bride! and 
 may she soon give you a young baron to keep you in better 
 order than I can, as, if she does her duty, she will." 
 
 The Baron stood up, and lifted his huge arm to lead the 
 toast. 
 
 " Werner and his Bride ! " 
 
 Not a voice followed him. There was a sudden intima- 
 tion of the call being echoed ; but it snapped, and ended 
 in shuffling tones, as if the hall-door had closed on the 
 response. 
 
 " What 's this ? " roared the Baron, in that caged wild' 
 beast voice Margarita remembered she had heard in the 
 Cathedral Square. 
 
 No one replied. 
 
 "Speak! or I '11 rot you a fathom in the rock, curs! " 
 
 "Herr Baron!" said Henker Rothhals impressively; 
 'the matter is, that there 's something unholy among us."
 
 240 FARINA 
 
 The Baron's goblet flew at his head before the words 
 were uttered. 
 
 "I '11 make an unholy thing of him that says it," and 
 Werner lowered at them one by one. 
 
 " Then I say it, Herr Baron ! " pursued Henker Both- 
 hals, wiping his frontispiece. "The Devil has turned 
 against you at last. Look up there — Ah, it 's gone now; 
 but where 's the man sitting this side saw it not ? " 
 
 The Baron made one spring, and stood on the board. 
 
 " Now ! will any rascal here please to say so ? " 
 
 Something in the cruel hang of his threatening hatchet 
 jaw silenced many in the act of confirming the assertion. 
 
 " Stand out, Henker Bothhals ! " 
 
 Kothhals slid a hunting-knife up his wrist, and stepped 
 back from the board. 
 
 " Beast ! " roared the Baron, " I said I would n't shed 
 blood to-night. I spared a traitor, and an enemy " 
 
 " Look again ! " said Bothhals ; " will any fellow say he 
 saw nothing there ? " 
 
 While all heads, including Werner's, were directed to the 
 aperture which surveyed them, Bothhals tossed his knife to 
 the Goshawk unperceived. 
 
 This time answers came to his challenge, but not in con- 
 firmation. The Baron spoke with a gasping gentleness. 
 
 " So you trifle with me ? I 'm dangerous for that game. 
 Mind you of Blassgesell ? I made a better beast of him by 
 sending him three-quarters of the road to hell for trial.'' 
 Bellowing — " Take that ! " he discharged a broad blade, 
 hitherto concealed in his right hand, straight at Bothhals. 
 It fixed in his cheek and jaw, wringing an awful breath of 
 pain from him as he fell against the wall. 
 
 " There 's a lesson for you not to cross me, children ! " said 
 Werner, striding his stumpy legs up and down the crashing 
 board, and puffing his monstrous girth of chest and midriff. 
 " Let him stop there awhile, to show what comes of thwart- 
 ing Werner ! — Fire-devils ! before the baroness, too ! — 
 Something unholy is there ? Something unholy in his jaw, 
 I think ! — Leave it sticking ! — He 's against me at last, is 
 he ? I '11 teach you who he 's for ! — Who speaks ? " 
 
 All hung silent. These men were animals dominated fry 
 a mightier brute.
 
 THE 11ESCUE 241 
 
 He clasped his throat, and shook the board with a jump, 
 as he squeaked, rather than called, a second time — " Who 
 spoke ? " 
 
 He had not again to ask. In this pause, as the Baron 
 glared for his victim, a song, so softly sung that it soin 
 remote, but of which every syllable was clearly rounded, 
 swelled into his ears, and froze him in his angry posture. 
 
 " The blood of the barons shall turn to ice, 
 And their castle fall to wreck, 
 When a true lover dips in the water thrice, 
 That runs round Werner's Eck. 
 
 " Round Werner's Eck the water runs ; 
 The hazels shiver and shake : 
 The walls that have blotted such happy suns, 
 Are seized with the ruin-quake. 
 
 " And quake with the ruin, and quake with rue, 
 Thou last of Werner's race ! 
 The hearts of the barons were cold that knew 
 The Water-Dame's embrace. 
 
 " For a sin was done, and a shame was wrought, 
 That water went to hide : 
 And those who thought to make it nought, 
 They did but spread it wide. 
 
 " Hold ready, hold ready to pay the price, 
 And keep thy bridal cheer : 
 A hand has dipped in the water thrice, 
 And the Water-Dame is here." 
 
 THE RESCUE 
 
 The Goshawk was on his feet. " Now, lass," said he to 
 Margarita, "now is the time ! " He took her hand, and led 
 her -to the door. Schwartz Thier closed up behind her. 
 Not a man in the hall interposed. Werner's head moved 
 round after them, like a dog on the watch ; but he was 
 dumb. The door opened, and Farina entered. He bore a 
 sheaf of weapons under his arm. The familiar sight re- 
 lieved Werner's senses from the charm. He shouted to bar
 
 242 FARINA 
 
 the prisoners' passage. His men were ranged like statues 
 in the hall. There was a start among them, as if that ter- 
 rible noise communicated an instinct of obedience, but no 
 more. They glanced at each other, and remained quiet. 
 
 The Goshawk had his eye on Werner. "Stand back, 
 lass !" he said to Margarita. She took a sword from Farina, 
 and answered, with white lips and flashing eyes, "I can 
 fight, Goshawk ! " 
 
 " And shall, if need be ; but leave it to me now," re- 
 turned Guy. 
 
 His eye never left the Baron. Suddenly a shriek of steel 
 rang. All fell aside, and the combatants stood opposed on 
 clear ground. Farina took Margarita's left hand, and 
 placed her against the wall between the Thier and himself. 
 Werner's men were well content to let their master fight it 
 out. The words spoken by Henker Rothhals, that the Devil 
 had forsaken him, seemed in their minds confirmed by the 
 weird song which every one present could swear he heard 
 with his ears. "Let him take his chance, and try his own 
 luck," they said, and shrugged. The battle was between 
 Guy, as Margarita's champion, and Werner. 
 
 In Schwartz Thier's judgement, the two were well matched, 
 and he estimated their diverse qualities from sharp experi- 
 ence. "For short work the Baron, and my new mate for 
 tough standing to't!" Farina's summary in favour of the 
 Goshawk was, " A stouter heart, harder sinews, and a good 
 cause." The combat was generally regarded with a pro- 
 fessional eye, and few prayers. Margarita solely there 
 asked aid from above, and knelt to the Virgin ; but her, 
 too, the clash of arms and dire earnest of mortal fight 
 aroused to eager eyes. She had not dallied with heroes in 
 her dreams. She was as ready to second Siegfried on the 
 crimson field as tend him in the silken chamber. 
 
 It was well that a woman's heart was there to mark the 
 grace and glory of manhood in upright foot-to-foot en- 
 counter. For the others, it was a mere calculation of lucky 
 hits. Even Farina, in his anxiety for her, saw but the 
 brightening and darkening of the prospect of escape in 
 every attitude and hard-ringing blow. Margarita was pos- 
 sessed with a painful exaltation. In her eyes the bestial 
 Baron now took a nobler form and countenance ; but the
 
 THE RESCUE 243 
 
 Goshawk assumed the sovereign aspect of old heroes, who, 
 whether persecuted or favoured of heaven, still maintained 
 their stand, remembering of what stuff they were, and who 
 made them. 
 
 'Never,' say the old writers, with a fervour honourable 
 to their knowledge of the elements that compose our being, 
 1 never may this bright privilege of fair fight depart from 
 us, nor advantage of it fail to be taken ! Man against man, 
 or beast, singly keeping his ground, is as fine rapture to the 
 breast as Beauty in her softest hour affordeth. For if 
 woman taketh loveliness to her when she languisheth, so 
 surely doth man in these fierce moods, when steel and iron 
 sparkle opposed, and their breath is fire, and their lips 
 white with the lock of resolution ; all their faculties knotted 
 to a point, and their energies alive as the daylight to prove 
 themselves superior, according to the laws and under the 
 blessing of chivalry.' 
 
 'For all,' they go on to improve the comparison, 'may 
 admire and delight in fair blossoming dales under the blue 
 dome of peace; but 'tis the rare lofty heart alone com- 
 prehendeth, and is heightened by, terrific splendours of 
 tempest, when cloud meets cloud in skies black as the 
 sepulchre, and Glory sits like a flame on the helm of 
 Ruin.' 
 
 For a while the combatants aired their dexterity, con- 
 tenting themselves with cunning cuts and flicks of the 
 sword-edge, in which Werner first drew blood by a keen 
 sweep along the forehead of the Goshawk. Guy had al- 
 lowed him to keep his position on the board, and still 
 fought at his face and neck. He now jerked back his body 
 from the hip, and swung a round stroke at Werner's knee, 
 sending him in retreat with a snort of pain. Before the 
 Baron could make good his ground, Guy was level with 
 him on the board. 
 
 Werner turned an upbraiding howl at his men. They 
 were not disposed to second him yet. They one and all 
 approved his personal battle with Fate, and never more 
 admired him and felt his power ; but the affair was excit- 
 ing, and they were not the pillars to prop a falling house.
 
 244 FARINA 
 
 Werner clenched his two hands to his ponderous glaive, 
 and fell upon Guy with heavier fury. He was becoming 
 not unworth the little womanly appreciation Margarita was 
 brought to bestow on him. The voice of the Water-Lady 
 whispered at her heart that the Baron warred on his des- 
 tiny, and that ennobles all living souls. 
 
 Bare-headed the combatants engaged, and the head-piece 
 was the chief point of attack. No swerving from blows 
 was possible for either : ward, or take ; a false step would 
 have ensured defeat. This also induced caution. Many a 
 double stamp of the foot was heard, as each had to retire 
 in turn. 
 
 " Not at his head so much, he '11 bear battering there all 
 night long," said Henker Bothhals in a breathing interval. 
 Knocks had been pretty equally exchanged, but the Baron's 
 head certainly looked the least vulnerable, whereas Guy ex- 
 hibited several dints that streamed freely. Yet he looked, 
 eye and bearing, as fresh as when they began, and the calm, 
 regular heave of his chest contrasted with Werner's quick 
 gasps. His smile, too, renewed each time the Baron paused 
 for breath, gave Margarita heart. It was not a taunting 
 smile, but one of entire confidence, and told all the more on 
 his adversary. As Werner led off again, and the choice 
 was always left him, every expression of the Goshawk's 
 face passed to full light in his broad eyes. 
 
 The Baron's play was a reckless fury. There was noth- 
 ing to study in it. Guy became the chief object of specu- 
 lation. He was evidently trying to wind his man. He 
 struck wildly, some thought. Others judged that he was a 
 random hitter, and had no mortal point in aim. Schwartz 
 Thier's opinion was frequently vented. "Too round a 
 stroke — down on him ! Chop — not slice ! " 
 
 Guy persevered in his own fashion. According to 
 Schwartz Thier, he brought down by his wilfulness the 
 blow that took him on the left shoulder, and nigh broke 
 him. It was a weighty blow, followed by a thump of 
 sound. The sword-edge swerved on his shoulder-blade, or 
 he must have been disabled. But Werner's crow was short, 
 and he had no time to push success. One of the Goshawk's 
 swooping under-hits half severed his right wrist, and the 
 blood spirted across the board. He gasped and seemed to
 
 THE RESCUE 245 
 
 succumb, but held to it still, though with slackened force. 
 Guy now attacked. Holding to his round strokes, he 
 accustomed Werner to guard the body, and stood to it so 
 briskly right and left, that Werner grew bewildered, lost 
 his caution, and gave ground. Suddenly the Goshawk's 
 glaive flashed in air, and chopped sheer down on Werner's 
 head. So shrewd a blow it was against a half-formed de- 
 fence, that the Baron dropped without a word right on the 
 edge of the board, and there hung, feebly grasping with his 
 fingers. 
 
 " Who bars the way now 1 " sang out Guy. 
 
 No one accepted the challenge. Success clothed him 
 with terrors, and gave him giant size. 
 
 "Then fare you well, my merry men all," said Guy. 
 "Bear me no ill-will for this. A little doctoring will right 
 the bold Baron." 
 
 He strode jauntily to the verge of the board, and held his 
 finger for Margarita to follow. She stepped forward. The 
 men put their beards together, muttering. She could not 
 advance. Farina doubled his elbow, and presented sword- 
 point. Three of the ruffians now disputed the way with 
 bare steel. Margarita looked at the Goshawk. He was 
 smiling calmly curious as he leaned over his sword, and 
 gave her an encouraging nod. She made another step in 
 defiance. One fellow stretched his hand to arrest her. All 
 her maidenly pride stood up at once. "What a glorious 
 girl!" murmured the Goshawk, as he saw her face sud- 
 denly flash, and she retreated a pace and swung a sharp 
 cut across the knuckles of her assailant, daring him, or one 
 of them, with hard, bright eyes, beautifully vindictive, to lay 
 hand on a pure maiden. 
 
 " You have it, Barenleib ! " cried the others, and then to 
 Margarita : " Look, young mistress ! we are poor fellows, 
 and ask a trifle of ransom, and then part friends." 
 
 " Not an ace ! " the Goshawk pronounced from his post. 
 
 " Two to one, remember." 
 
 " The odds are ours," replied the Goshawk confidently. 
 
 They ranged themselves in front of the hall-door. In- 
 stead of accepting this challenge, Guy stepped to Werner, 
 and laid his moaning foe lengthwise in an easier posture. 
 He then lifted Margarita on the board, and summoned them
 
 246 FARINA 
 
 with cry of " Free passage ! " They answered by a sullen 
 shrug and taunt. 
 
 " Schwartz Thier ! Kothhals ! Farina ! buckle up, and 
 make ready then," sang Guy. 
 
 He measured the length of his sword, and raised it. The 
 Goshawk had not underrated his enemies. He was tempted 
 to despise them when he marked their gradually lengthen- 
 ing chaps and eyeballs. 
 
 Not one of them moved. All gazed at him as if their 
 marrows were freezing with horror. 
 
 <• What 's this ? " cried Guy. 
 
 They knew as little as he, but a force was behind them 
 irresistible against their efforts. The groaning oak slipped 
 open, pushing them forward, and an apparition glided past, 
 soft as the pallid silver of the moon. She slid to the 
 Baron, and put her arms about him, and sang to him. 
 Had the Water-Lady laid an iron hand on all those ruffians, 
 she could not have held them faster bound than did the 
 fear of her presence. The Goshawk drew his fair charge 
 through them, followed by Farina, the Thier, and Rothhals. 
 A last glimpse of the hall showed them still as old cathe- 
 dral sculpture staring at white light on a fluted pillar of 
 the wall. 
 
 THE PASSAGE OF THE RHINE 
 
 Low among the swarthy sandhills behind the Abbey of 
 Laach dropped the round red moon. Soft lengths of misty 
 yellow stole through the glens of Rhineland. The nightin- 
 gales still sang. Closer and closer the moon came into the 
 hushed valleys. 
 
 There is a dell behind Hammerstein Castle, a ring of 
 basking sward, girdled by a silver slate-brook, and guarded 
 b} 7 four high-peaked hills that slope down four long wooded 
 corners to the grassy base. Here, it is said, the elves and 
 earthmen play, dancing in circles with laughing feet that 
 fatten the mushroom. They would have been fulfilling 
 the tradition now, but that the place was occupied by a
 
 THE TASSAGE OF THE RHINE 247 
 
 sturdy group of mortals, armed with staves. The intrudi 
 were sleepy, and lay about on the inclines. Now and then 
 two got up, and there rang hard echoes of oak. Again all 
 were calm as cud-chewing cattle, and the white water ran 
 pleased with quiet. 
 
 It may be that the elves brewed mischief among them ; 
 for the oaken blows were becoming more frequent. One 
 complained of a kick : another demanded satisfaction for a 
 pinch. " Go to," drawled the accused drowsily in both 
 cases, "too much beer last night! " Within three minutes, 
 the company counted a pair of broken heads. The East 
 was winning on the West in heaven, and the dusk was 
 thinning. They began to mark, each, whom he had cudg- 
 elled. A noise of something swiftly in motion made them 
 alert. A roebuck rushed down one of the hills, and scam- 
 pered across the sward. The fine beast went stretching so 
 rapidly away as to be hardly distinct. 
 
 " Sathanas once more ! " they murmured, and drew 
 together. 
 
 The name passed through them like a watchword. 
 
 "Not he this time," cried the two new-comers, emerging 
 from the foliage. " He 's safe under Cologne — the worse 
 for all good men who live there ! But come ! follow to the 
 Rhine ! there 's work for us on the yonder side, and sharp 
 work." 
 
 " Why," answered several, " we 've our challenge with 
 the lads of Leutesdorf and Wied to-day." 
 
 " D' ye see this ? " said the foremost of the others, point- 
 ing to a carved ivory white rose in his cap. 
 
 " Brothers ! " he swelled his voice, " follow with a will, 
 for the White Rose is in danger! " 
 
 Immediately they ranked, and followed zealously through 
 the buds of young bushes, and over heaps of damp dead 
 leaves, a half-hour's scramble, when they defiled under 
 Plammerstein, and stood before the Rhine. Their leader 
 led up the river, and after a hasty walk, stopped, loosened 
 his hood, aud stripped. 
 
 " Now," said he, strapping the bundle to his back, " let 
 me know the hound that refuses to follow his leader when 
 the White Rose is in danger." 
 
 " Long live Dietrich ! " they shouted. He dropped from
 
 248 FARINA 
 
 the bank, and waded in. He was soon supported by the 
 remainder of the striplings, and all struck out boldly into 
 mid-stream. 
 
 Never heard history of a nobler Passage of the Rhine 
 than this made between Andernach and Hammerstein by 
 members of the White Rose Club, bundle on back, to relieve 
 the White Rose of Germany from thrall and shame ! 
 
 They were taken far down by the rapid current, and 
 arrived panting to land. The dressing done, they marched 
 up the pass of Tonnistein, and took a deep draught at the 
 spring of pleasant waters there open to wayfarers. Arrived 
 at the skirts of Laach, they beheld two farmer peasants 
 lashed back to back against a hazel. They released them, 
 but could gain no word of information, as the fellows, after 
 a yawn and a wink, started off, all heels, to make sure of 
 liberty. On the shores of the lake the brotherhood descried 
 a body of youths, whom they hailed, and were welcomed 
 to companionship. 
 
 " Where 's Berthold ? " asked Dietrich. 
 
 He was not present. 
 
 " The more glory for us, then," Dietrich said. 
 
 It was here seriously put to the captain, whether they 
 should not halt at the abbey, and refect, seeing that great 
 work was in prospect. 
 
 " Truly," quoth Dietrich, " dying on an empty stomach 
 is heathenish, and cold blood makes a green wound gape. 
 Kaiser Conrad should be hospitable, and the monks honour 
 numbers. Here be we, thirty and nine ; let us go ! " 
 
 The West was dark blue with fallen light. The lake- 
 waters were growing gray with twilight. The abbey stood 
 muffled in shadows. Already the youths had commenced 
 battering at the convent doors, when they were summoned 
 by the voice of the Goshawk on horseback. To their con- 
 fusion they beheld the White Rose herself on his right 
 hand. Chapfallen Dietrich bowed to his sweet mistress. 
 
 " We were coming to the rescue," he stammered. 
 
 A laugh broke from the Goshawk. " You thought the 
 lady was locked up in the ghostly larder ; eh ? " 
 
 Dietrich seized his sword, and tightened his belt. " The 
 Club allow no jesting with the White Rose, Sir Stranger." 
 
 Margarita made peace. " I thank you all, good friends
 
 THE PASSAGE OF THE RHINE 2l!> 
 
 But quarrel not, I pray you, with thein that save ine at the 
 risk of their lives." 
 
 " Our service is equal," said the Goshawk, flourishing — 
 "Only we happen to be beforehand with the Club, for 
 which Farina and myself heartily beg pardon of the entire 
 brotherhood." 
 
 "Farina!" exclaimed Dietrich. "Then we make a 
 prisoner instead of uncaging a captive." 
 
 " What 's this ? " said Guy. 
 
 " So much," responded Dietrich. " Yonder 's a runaway 
 from two masters : the law of Cologne, and the conqueror 
 of Satan ; and all good citizens are empowered to bring him 
 back, dead or alive." 
 
 "Dietrich! Dietrich! dare you talk thus of the man who 
 saved me ? " cried Margarita. 
 
 Dietrich sullenly persisted. 
 
 " Then, look ! " said the White Kose, reddening under the 
 pale dawn ; " he shall not, he shall not go with you." 
 
 One of the Club was here on the point of speaking to the 
 White Rose, — a breach of the captain's privilege. Dietrich 
 felled him unresisting to earth, and resumed : " It must 
 be done, Beauty of Cologne ! the monk, father Gregory, is 
 now enduring shame and scorn for lack of this truant 
 witness." 
 
 " Enough ! I go ! " said Farina. 
 
 " You leave me ? " Margarita looked tender reproach. 
 Weariness and fierce excitement had given a liquid flame to 
 her eyes and an endearing darkness round their circles that 
 matched strangely with her plump youth. Her features 
 had a soft white flush. She was less radiant, but never 
 looked so bewitching. An aspect of sweet human lan- 
 guor caught at the heart of love, and raised tumults. 
 
 " It is a duty," said Farina. 
 
 " Then go," she beckoned, and held her hand for him to 
 kiss. He raised it to his lips. This was seen of all the 
 Club. 
 
 As they were departing with Farina, and Guy prepared 
 to demand admittance into the convent, Dietrich chanced to 
 ask how fared Dame Lisbeth. Schwartz Thier was by, and 
 answered, with a laugh, that he had quite forgotten the 
 little lady.
 
 250 FARINA 
 
 "We took her in mistake for you, mistress! She was a 
 one to scream! The moment she was kissed — mum as a 
 cloister. We kissed her, all of us, for the fun of it. No 
 harm — no harm ! We should have dropped her when we 
 found we had the old bird 'stead of the young one, but 
 reckoned ransom, ye see. She 's at the Eck, rattling, I 's 
 wager, like last year's nut in the shell!" 
 
 " Lisbeth ! Lisbeth ! poor Lisbeth ; Ave will return to her. 
 Instantly," cried Margarita. 
 
 " Not you," said Guy. 
 
 "Yes! I!" 
 
 "No!" said Guy. 
 
 " Gallant Goshawk ! best of birds, let me go ! " 
 
 "Without me or Farina, never! I see I shall have no 
 chance with my lord now. Come, then, come, fair Irresis- 
 tible! come, lads. Farina can journey back alone. You 
 shall have the renown of rescuing Dame Lisbeth." 
 
 " Farina ! forget not to comfort my father," said Margarita. 
 
 Between Margarita's society and Farina's, there was little 
 dispute in the captain's mind which choice to make. Fa- 
 rina was allowed to travel single to Cologne ; and Dietrich, 
 petted by Margarita, and gently jeered by Guy, headed the 
 Club from Laach waters to the castle of the Robber Baron. 
 
 THE BACK-BLOWS OF SATHANAS. 
 
 Monk Gregory was pacing the high road between the 
 Imperial camp and suffering Cologne. The sun had risen 
 through interminable distances of cloud that held him 
 remote in a succession of receding mounds and thinner veils, 
 realm beyond realm, till he showed tireless, like a phantom 
 king in a phantom land. The lark was in the breast of 
 morning. The field-mouse ran along the furrows. Dews 
 hung red and gray on the weedy banks and wayside trees. 
 At times the nostril of the good father was lifted, and he 
 beat his breast, relapsing into sorrowful contemplation. 
 Passed any citizen of Cologne, the ghostly head slunk into 
 its cowl. " There 's a black raven ! " said many. Monk
 
 THE BACK-BLOWS OF SATHANAS -•">! 
 
 Gregory heard them, and murmured, " Thou hast me, Evil 
 one! thou hast me! " 
 
 It was noon when Farina came clattering down from the 
 camp. 
 
 " Father," said he, "I have sought thee." 
 
 " My son ! " exclaimed Monk Gregory with silencing 
 hand, " thou didst not well to leave me contending against 
 the tongues of doubt. Answer me not. The maiden ! and 
 what weighed she in such a scale ? — No more ! I am 
 punished. Well speaks the ancient proverb: 
 
 ' Beware the back-blows of Sathanas ! ' 
 
 I, that thought to have vanquished him! Vanity has 
 wrecked me, in this world and the next. I am the victim 
 of self-incense. I hear the demons shouting their chorus — 
 ' Here comes Monk Gregory, who called himself Conqueror 
 of Darkness! ' In the camp I am discredited and a scoff; 
 in the city I am spat upon, abhorred. Satan, my son, 
 fights not with his fore-claws. 'T is with his tail he fights, 
 Farina! — Listen, my son! he entered to his kingdom 
 below through Cologne, even under the stones of the 
 Cathedral Square, and the stench of him abominably re- 
 maineth, challenging the nostrils of holy and unholy alike. 
 The Kaiser cannot approach for him ; the citizens are out- 
 raged. Oh! had I held my peace in humbleness, I had 
 truly conquered him. But he gave me easy victory, to 
 inflate me. I shall not last. Now this only is left, my 
 son ; that thou bear living testimony to the truth of my 
 statement, as I bear it to the folly ! " 
 
 Farina promised, in the face of all, he would proclaim 
 and witness to his victory on Drachenfels. 
 
 "That I may not be ranked an impostor!" continued 
 the Monk. " And how great must be the virtue of them 
 that encounter that dark spirit! Valour availeth nought. 
 But if virtue be not in ye, soon will ye be puffed to burst- 
 ing with that devil's poison, self-incense. Surely, my son, 
 thou art faithful, and for this service I can reward thee. 
 Follow me yet again." 
 
 On the road they met Gottlieb Groschen, hastening to 
 the camp. Dismay rumpled the old merchant's honest 
 jowl. Farina drew rein before him.
 
 252 FARINA 
 
 " Your daughter is safe, worthy Master Groschen," said he, 
 
 « Safe ? " cried Gottlieb ; " where is she, my Grete ? " 
 
 Farina briefly explained. Gottlieb spread out his arms, 
 and was going to thank the youth. He saw Father Gregory, 
 and his whole frame narrowed with disgust. ■ 
 
 " Are you in company with that pestilent animal, that 
 curse of Cologne! " 
 
 " The good Monk ," said Farina. 
 
 "You are leagued with him, then, sirrah! Expect no 
 thanks from me. Cologne, I say, is cursed! Meddling 
 wretches ! could ye not leave Satan alone ? He hurt us 
 not. We were free of him. Cologne, I say, is cursed! 
 The enemy of mankind is brought by you to be the deadly 
 foe of Cologne." 
 
 So saying, Gottlieb departed. 
 
 " Seest thou, my son," quoth the Monk, "they reason 
 not!" 
 
 Farina was dejected. Willingly would he, for his part, 
 have left the soul of Evil a loose rover for the sake of some 
 brighter horizon to his hope. 
 
 No twinge of remorse accompanied Gottlieb. The Kaiser 
 had allotted him an encampment and a guard of honour 
 for his household while the foulness raged, and there Gott- 
 lieb welcomed back Margarita and Aunt Lisbeth on the 
 noon after his meeting with Farina. The White Eose had 
 rested at Laach, and was blooming again. She and the 
 Goshawk came trotting in advance of the Club through the 
 woods of Laach, startling the deer with laughter, and send- 
 ing the hare with her ears laid back all across country. 
 In vain Dietrich menaced Guy with the terrors of the Club : 
 Aunt Lisbeth begged of Margarita not to leave her with 
 the footmen in vain. The joyous couple galloped over the 
 country, and sprang the ditches, and leapt the dykes, up 
 and down the banks, glad as morning hawks, entering An- 
 dernach at a round pace ; where they rested at a hostel as 
 capable of producing good Rhine and Mosel wine then as 
 now. Here they had mid-day's meal laid out in the garden 
 for the angry Club, and somewhat appeased them on their 
 arrival with bumpers of the best Scharzhofberger. After 
 a refreshing halt, three boats were hired. On their passage 
 to the river, they encountered a procession of monks headed
 
 THE BACK-BLOWS OF SATIIANAS 253 
 
 by the Archbishop of Andernach, bearing a small figure of 
 Christ carved in blackthorn and varnished: said to work 
 miracles, and a present to the good town from two Hun- 
 garian pilgrims. 
 
 " Are ye for Cologne ? " the monks inquired of them. 
 
 " Direct down stream ! " they answered. 
 
 " Send, then, hither to us Gregory, the conqueror of 
 Darkness, that he may know there is gratitude on earth 
 and gratulation for great deeds," said the monks. 
 
 So with genuflexions the travellers proceeded, and 
 entered the boats by the Archbishop's White Tower. 
 Hammerstein Castle and Kheineck they floated under; Sal- 
 zig and the Ahr confluence ; Eolandseck and Nonnenwerth ; 
 Drachenfels and Bonn ; hills green with young vines ; dells 
 waving fresh foliage. Margarita sang as they floated. 
 Ancient ballads she sang that made the Goshawk sigh for 
 home, and affected the Club with delirious love for the 
 grand old water that was speeding them onward. Aunt 
 Lisbeth was not to be moved. She alone held down her 
 head. She looked not Gottlieb in the face as he embraced 
 her. Nor to any questioning would she vouchsafe reply. 
 From that time forth, she was charity to woman ; and the 
 exuberant cheerfulness and familiarity of the men toward 
 her soon grew kindly and respectful. The dragon in Aunt 
 Lisbeth was destroyed. She objected no more to Marga- 
 rita's cameo. 
 
 The Goshawk quickly made peace with his lord, and 
 enjoyed the commendation of the Kaiser. Dietrich Schill 
 thought of challenging him; but the Club had graver 
 business: and this was to pass sentence on Berthold 
 Schmidt for the crime of betraying the White Kose into 
 the hands of Werner. They had found Berthold at the 
 Eck, and there consented to let him remain until ransom 
 was paid for his traitorous body. Berthold in his mad 
 passion was tricked by Werner, and on his release, by 
 payment of the ransom, submitted to the judgement of the 
 Club, which condemned him to fight them all in turn, and 
 then endure banishment from Rhineland ; the Goshawk, fof 
 his sister's sake, interceding before a harsher tribunal.
 
 254 FARINA 
 
 THE ENTRY INTO COLOGNE 
 
 Seven days Kaiser Heinrich remained camped outside 
 Cologne. Six times in six successive days the Kaiser 
 attempted to enter the city, and was foiled. 
 
 " Beard of Barbarossa ! " said the Kaiser, " this is the 
 first stronghold that ever resisted me." 
 
 The warrior bishops, electors, pfalzgrafs, and knights of 
 the Empire, all swore it was no shame not to be a match 
 for the Demon. 
 
 " If," said the reflective Kaiser, " we are to suffer below 
 what poor Cologne is doomed to undergo now, let us, by all 
 that is savoury, reform and do penance." 
 
 The wind just then setting on them dead from Cologne 
 made the courtiers serious. Many thought of their souls 
 for the first time. 
 
 This is recorded to the honour of Monk Gregory. 
 
 On the seventh morning, the Kaiser announced his 
 determination to make a last trial. 
 
 It was dawn, and a youth stood before the Kaiser's tent, 
 praying an audience. 
 
 Conducted into the presence of the Kaiser, the youth, 
 they say, succeeded in arousing him from his depression, for, 
 brave as he was, Kaiser Heinrich dreaded the issue. 
 Forthwith order was given for the cavalcade to set out 
 according to the rescript, Kaiser Heinrich retaining the 
 youth at his right hand. But the youth had found occa- 
 sion to visit Gottlieb and Margarita, each of whom he 
 furnished with a flask, curiously shaped, and charged with 
 a distillation. 
 
 As the head of the procession reached the gates of 
 Cologne, symptoms of wavering were manifest. 
 
 Kaiser Heinrich commanded an advance, at all cost. 
 
 Pfalzgraf Nase, as the old chronicles call him in their 
 humour, but assuredly a great noble, led the van, and 
 pushed across the draw-bridge.
 
 THE ENTRY INTO COLOGNE 255 
 
 Hesitation and signs of horror were manifest in the 
 assemblage round the Kaiser's person. The Kaiser and the 
 youth at his right hand were cheery. Not a whit drooped 
 they ! Several of the heroic knights begged the Kaiser's 
 permission to fall back. 
 
 "Follow Pfalzgraf Nase!" the Kaiser is reported to 
 have said. 
 
 Great was the wonderment of the people of Cologne to 
 behold Kaiser Heinrich riding in perfect stateliness up the 
 main street toward the Cathedral, while right and left of 
 him bishops and electors were dropping incapable. 
 
 The Kaiser advanced till by his side the youth rode sole. 
 
 " Thy name ? " said the Kaiser. 
 
 He answered : " A poor youth, unconquerable Kaiser ! 
 Farina I am called." 
 
 " Thy recompense ? " said the Kaiser. 
 
 He answered : " The hand of a maiden of Cologne, most 
 gracious Kaiser and master ! " 
 
 " She is thine ! " said the Kaiser. 
 
 Kaiser Heinrich looked behind him, and among a host 
 grasping the pommels of their saddles, and reeling van- 
 quished, were but two erect, a maiden and an old man. 
 
 " That is she, unconquerable Kaiser ! " Farina continued, 
 bowing low. 
 
 " It shall be arranged on the spot," said the Kaiser. 
 
 A word from Kaiser Heinrich sealed Gottlieb's com- 
 pliance. 
 
 Said he : " Gracious Kaiser and master ! though such a 
 youth could of himself never have aspired to the possession 
 of a Groschen, yet when the Kaiser pleads for him, objec- 
 tion is as the rock of Moses, and streams consent. Truly 
 he has done Cologne good service, and if Margarita, my 
 daughter, can be persuaded — " 
 
 The Kaiser addressed her with his blazing brows. 
 
 Margarita blushed a ready autumn of rosy-ripe acquies- 
 cence. 
 
 "A marriage registered yonder!" said the Kaiser, point- 
 ing upward. 
 
 " I am thine," murmured Margarita, as Farina drew near 
 her. 
 
 "Seal it! seal it!" quoth the Kaiser, in hearty good
 
 256 FARINA 
 
 humour; "take no consent from man or maid without a 
 seal." 
 
 Farina tossed the contents of a flask in air, and saluted 
 his beloved on the lips. 
 
 This scene took place near the charred round of earth 
 where the Foulest descended to his kingdom below. 
 
 Men now pervaded Cologne with flasks, purifying the 
 atmosphere. It became possible to breathe freely. 
 
 " We Germans," said Kaiser Heinrich, when he was again 
 surrounded by his courtiers, " may go wrong if we always 
 follow Pfalzgraf Nase ; but this time we have been well 
 led." Whereat there was obsequious laughter. 
 
 The Pfalzgraf pleaded a susceptible nostril. 
 
 " Thou art, I fear, but a timid mortal," said the Kaiser. 
 
 "Never have I been found so on the German Field, 
 Imperial Majesty ! " returned the Pfalzgraf. " I take glory 
 to myself that this Nether reek overcomes me." 
 
 "Even that we must combat, you see ! " exclaimed Kaiser 
 Heinrich ; " but come all to a marriage this night, and take 
 brides as soon as you will, all of you. Increase, and give 
 us loyal subjects in plenty. I count prosperity by the 
 number of marriages in my empire ! " 
 
 The White Rose Club were invited by Gottlieb to the 
 wedding, and took it in vast wrath until they saw the 
 Kaiser, and such excellent stout German fare present, 
 when immediately a battle raged as to who should do the 
 event most honour, and was in dispute till dawn : Dietrich 
 Schill being the man, he having consumed wurst the length 
 of his arm, and wine sufficient to have floated a St. Goar 
 salmon ; which was long proudly chronicled in his family, 
 and is now unearthed from among the ancient honourable 
 records of Cologne. 
 
 The Goshawk was Farina's bridesman, and a very spirit- 
 ing bridesman was he! Aunt Lisbeth sat in a corner, 
 faintly smiling. 
 
 t " Child ! " said the little lady to Margarita when they 
 kissed at parting, " your courage amazes me. Do you think ? 
 Do you know ? Poor sweet bird, delivered over hand and 
 foot ! " 
 
 "I love him! I love him, aunty! that's all I know," 
 said Margarita: "love, love, love him!"
 
 CONCLUSION 257 
 
 "Heaven help you!" ejaculated Aunt Lisbeth. 
 
 " Pray with me," said Margarita. 
 
 The two knelt at the foot of the bride-bed, and prayed 
 very different prayers, but to the same end. That done, 
 Aunt Lisbeth helped undress the White Rose, and trembled, 
 and told a sad nuptial anecdote of the Castle, and put her 
 little shrivelled hand on Margarita's heart, and shrieked. 
 
 " Child ! it gallops ! " she cried. 
 
 " 'T is happiness," said Margarita, standing in her hair. 
 
 " May it last only ! " exclaimed Aunt Lisbeth. 
 
 " It will, aunty ! I am humble : I am true ; " and the 
 fair girl gathered the frill of her nightgown. 
 
 " Look not in the glass," said Lisbeth ; " not to-night ! 
 Look, if you can, to-morrow." 
 
 She smoothed the White Rose in her bed, tucked her up, 
 and kissed her, leaving her as a bud that waits for 
 sunshine. 
 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 The shadow of Monk Gregory was seen no more in Cologne. 
 He entered the Calendar, and ranks next St. Anthony. 
 For three successive centuries the towns of Rhineland 
 boasted his visits in the flesh, and the conqueror of Dark- 
 ness caused dire Rhenish feuds. 
 
 The Tailed Infernal repeated his famous Back-blow on 
 Farina. The youth awoke one morning and beheld ware- 
 houses the exact pattern of his own, displaying flasks 
 shaped even as his own, and a Farina to right and left of 
 him. In a week, they were doubled. A month quadrupled 
 them. They increased. 
 
 "Fame and Fortune," mused Farina, "come from man 
 and the world. Love is from heaven. We may be worthy, 
 and lose the first. We lose not love unless unworthy. 
 Would ye know the true Farina ? Look for him who walks 
 under the seal of bliss : whose darling is for ever his young 
 sweet bride, leading him from snares, priming his soul with 
 celestial freshness. There is no hypocrisy can ape that 
 
 17
 
 2ft 8 F AKIN A 
 
 aspect. Least of all, the creatures of the Damned! By 
 this I may be known." 
 
 Seven years after, when the Goshawk came into Cologne 
 to see old friends, and drink some of Gottlieb's oldest 
 Rudesheimer, he was waylaid by false Farinas ; and only 
 discovered the true one at last, by chance, in the music- 
 gardens near the Rhine, where Farina sat, having on one 
 hand Margarita, and at his feet three boys and one girl, 
 over whom both bent lovingly, like the parent vine fondling 
 its grape bunches in summer light.
 
 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE AND 
 LADY CAMPER
 
 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE AND 
 LADY CAMPER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 An excursion beyond the immediate suburbs of London, 
 projected long before his pony-carriage was hired to con- 
 duct him, in fact ever since his retirement from active 
 service, led General Ople across a famous common, with 
 which he fell in love at once, to a lofty highway along the 
 borders of a park, for which he promptly exchanged his 
 heart, and so gradually within a stone's-throw or so of 
 the river-side, where he determined not solely to bestow 
 his affections but to settle for life. It may be seen that 
 he was of an adventurous temperament, though he had 
 thought fit to loosen his sword-belt. The pony-carriage, 
 however, had been hired for the very special purpose of 
 helping him to pass in review the lines of what he called 
 country houses, cottages, or even sites for building, not too 
 remote from sweet London: and as when Coelebs goes 
 forth intending to pursue and obtain, there is no doubt of 
 his bringing home a wife, the circumstance that there 
 stood a house to let, in an airy situation, at a certain dis- 
 tance in hail of the metropolis he worshipped, was enough 
 to kindle the General's enthusiasm. He would have taken 
 the first he saw, had it not been for his daughter, who 
 accompanied him, and at the age of eighteen was about to 
 undertake the management of his house. Fortune, under 
 Elizabeth Opie's guiding restraint, directed him to an 
 epitome of the comforts. The place he fell upon is only to 
 be described in the tongue of auctioneers, and for the first 
 week after taking it he modestly followed them by terming 
 it bijou. In time, when his own imagination, instigated by
 
 262 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 a state of something more than mere contentment, had 
 been at work on it, he chose the happy phrase, "a gentle- 
 manly residence." For it was, he declared, a small estate. 
 There was a lodge to it, resembling two sentry-boxes forced 
 into union, where in one half an old couple sat bent, in the 
 other half lay compressed ; there was a back-drive to dis- 
 coverable stables ; there was a bit of grass that would have 
 appeared a meadow if magnified ; and there was a wall 
 round the kitchen-garden and a strip of wood round the 
 flower-garden. The prying of the outside world was im- 
 possible. Comfort, fortification, and gentlemanliness made 
 the place, as the General said, an ideal English home. 
 
 The compass of the estate was half an acre, and perhaps 
 a perch or two, just the size for the hugging love General 
 Ople was happiest in giving. He wisely decided to retain 
 the old couple at the lodge, whose members were used to 
 restriction, and also not to purchase a cow, that would have 
 wanted pasture. With the old man, while the old woman 
 attended to the bell at the handsome front entrance with 
 its gilt-spiked gates, he undertook to do the gardening ; a 
 business he delighted in, so long as he could perform it in 
 a gentlemanly manner, that is to say, so long as he was not 
 overlooked. He was perfectly concealed from the road. 
 Only one house, and curiously indeed, only one window of 
 the house, and further to show the protection extended to 
 Douro Lodge, that window an attic, overlooked him. And 
 the house was empty. 
 
 The house (for who can hope, and who should desire a 
 commodious house, with conservatories, aviaries, pond and 
 boat-shed, and other joys of wealth, to remain unoccupied) 
 was taken two seasons later by a lady, of whom Fame, 
 rolling like a dust-cloud from the place she had left, re- 
 ported that she was eccentric. The word is uninstructive : 
 it does not frighten. In a lady of a certain age, it is 
 rather a characteristic of aristocracy in retirement. And 
 at least it implies wealth. 
 
 General Ople was very anxious to see her. He had the 
 sentiment of humble respectfulness toward aristocracy, 
 and there was that in riches which aroused his admi- 
 ration. London, for instance, he was not afraid to say he 
 thought the wonder of the world. He remarked, in addi*
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 263 
 
 tion, that the sacking of London would suffice to make 
 every common soldier of the foreign army of occupation an 
 independent gentleman for the term of his natural days. 
 But this is a nightmare ! said he, startling himself with an 
 abhorrent dream of envy of those enriched invading officers : 
 for Booty is the one lovely thing which the military mind 
 can contemplate in the abstract. His habit was to go off in 
 an explosion of heavy sighs, when he had delivered himself 
 so far, like a man at war with himself. 
 
 The lady arrived in time : she received the cards of the 
 neighbourhood, and signalized her eccentricity by paying 
 no attention to thein, excepting the card of a Mrs. Baerens, 
 who had audience of her at once. By express arrangement, 
 the card of General Wilson Ople, as her nearest neighbour- 
 followed the card of the rector, the social head of the 
 district ; and the rector was granted an interview, but 
 Lady Camper was not at home to General Ople. She is of 
 superior station to me, and may not wish to associate with 
 me, the General modestly said. Nevertheless he was 
 wounded : for in spite of himself, and without the slightest 
 wish to obtrude his own person, as he explained the mean- 
 ing that he had in him, his rank in the British army forced 
 him to be the representative of it, in the absence of any 
 one of a superior rank. So that he was professionally hurt, 
 and his heart being in his profession, it may be honestly 
 stated that he was wounded in his feelings, though he said 
 no, and insisted on the distinction. Once a day his walk 
 for constitutional exercise compelled him to pass before 
 Lady Camper's windows, which were not bashfully with- 
 drawn, as he said humorously of Douro Lodge, in the 
 seclusion of half-pay, but bowed out imperiously, militarily, 
 like a generalissimo on horseback, and had full command 
 of the road and levels up to the swelling park-foliage. He 
 went by at a smart stride, with a delicate depression of his 
 upright bearing, as though hastening to greet a friend in 
 view, whose hand was getting ready for the shake. This 
 much would have been observed by a housemaid ; and con- 
 sidering his fine figure and the peculiar shining silveriness 
 of his hair, the acceleration of his gait was noticeable. 
 When he drove by, the pony's right ear was flicked, to the 
 extreme indignation of a mettlesome little animal. It
 
 264 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 ensued in consequence that the General was borne flying 
 under the eyes of Lady Camper, and such pace displeasing 
 him, he reduced it invariably at a step or two beyond the 
 corner of her grounds. 
 
 But neither he nor his daughter Elizabeth attached im- 
 portance to so trivial a circumstance. The General punc- 
 tiliously avoided glancing at the windows during the passage 
 past them, whether in his wild career or on foot. Eliza- 
 beth took a side-shot, as one looks at a wayside tree. Their 
 speech concerning Lady Camper was an exchange of com- 
 monplaces over her loneliness : and this condition of hers 
 was the more perplexing to General Ople on his hearing 
 from his daughter that the lady was very fine-looking, and 
 not so very old, as he had fancied eccentric ladies must be. 
 The rector's account of her, too, excited the mind. She 
 had informed him bluntly, that she now and then went to 
 church to save appearances, but was not a church-goer, 
 finding it impossible to support the length of the service ; 
 might, however, be reckoned in subscriptions for all the 
 charities, and left her pew open to poor people, and none 
 but the poor. She had travelled over Europe, and knew 
 the East. Sketches in water-colours of the scenes she had 
 visited adorned her walls, and a pair of pistols, that she 
 had found useful, she affirmed, lay on the writing-desk in 
 her drawing-room. General Ople gathered from the rector 
 that she had a great contempt for men : yet it was curiously 
 varied with lamentations over the weakness of women. 
 " Eeally she cannot possibly be an example of that/*' said 
 the General, thinking of the pistols. 
 
 Now, we learn from those who have studied women on 
 the chess-board, and know what ebony or ivory will do 
 along particular lines, or hopping, that men much talked 
 about will take possession of their thoughts; and certainly 
 the fact may be accepted for one of their moves. But the 
 whole fabric of our knowledge of them, which we are 
 taught to build on this originally acute perception, is shat- 
 tered when we hear, that it is exactly the same, in the same 
 degree, in proportion to the amount of work they have to 
 do, exactly the same with men and their thoughts in the 
 case of women much talked about. So it was with General 
 Ople, and nothing is left for me to say except, that there is
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 265 
 
 broader ground than the chess-board. I am earnest in pro- 
 testing the similarity of the singular couples on common 
 earth, because otherwise the General is in peril of the accu- 
 sation that he is a feminine character; and not simply was 
 he a gallant officer, and a veteran in gunpowder strife, he 
 was also (and it is an extraordinary thing that a genuine 
 humility did not prevent it, and did survive it) a lord and 
 conqueror of the sex. He had done his pretty bit of mis- 
 chief, all in the way of honour, of course, but hearts had 
 knocked. And now, with his bright white hair, his close- 
 brushed white whiskers on a face burnt brown, his clear-cut 
 features, and a winning droop of his eyelids, there was 
 powder in him still, if not shot. 
 
 There was a lamentable susceptibility to ladies' charms. 
 On the other hand, for the protection of the sex, a re- 
 mainder of shyness kept him from active enterprise and in 
 the state of suffering, so long as indications of encourage- 
 ment were wanting. He had killed the soft ones, who 
 came to him, attracted by the softness in him, to be killed: 
 but clever women alarmed and paralyzed him. Their apt- 
 ness to question and require immediate sparkling answers ; 
 their demand for fresh wit, of a kind that is not furnished 
 by publications which strike it into heads with a hammer, 
 and supply it wholesale ; their various reading ; their power 
 of ridicule too ; made them awful in his contemplation. 
 
 Supposing (for the inflammable officer was now thinking, 
 and deeply thinking, of a clever woman), supposing that 
 Lady Camper's pistols were needed in. her defence one 
 night : at the first report proclaiming her extremity, valour 
 might gain an introduction to her upon easy terms, and 
 would not be expected to be witty. She would, perhaps, 
 after the excitement, admit his masculine superiority, in 
 the beautiful old fashion, by fainting in his arms. Such 
 was the reverie he passingly indulged, and only so could he 
 venture to hope for an acquaintance with the formidable 
 lady who was his next neighbour. But the proud society 
 of the burglarious denied him opportunity. 
 
 Meanwhile, he learnt that Lady Camper had a nephew, 
 and the young gentleman was in a cavalry regiment. Gen- 
 eral Ople met him outside his gates, received and returned 
 a polite salute, liked his appearance and manners, and
 
 266 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 talked of him to Elizabeth, asking her if by chance she had 
 seen him. She replied that she believed she had, and praised 
 his horsemanship. The General discovered that he was an 
 excellent sculler. His daughter was rowing him up the river 
 when the young gentleman shot by, with a splendid stroke, 
 in an outrigger, backed, and floating alongside presumed to 
 enter into conversation, during which he managed to express 
 regrets at his aunt's turn for solitariness. As they be- 
 longed to sister branches of the same Service, the General 
 and Mr. Reginald Holies had a theme in common, and a 
 passion. Elizabeth told her father that nothing afforded 
 her so much pleasure as to hear him talk with Mr. Rolles 
 on military matters. General Ople assured her that it 
 pleased him likewise. He began to spy about for Mr. 
 Rolles, and it sometimes occurred that they conversed across 
 the wall ; it could hardly be avoided. A hint or two, an 
 undefinable flying allusion, gave the General to understand 
 that Lady Camper had not been happy in her marriage. 
 He was pained to think of her misfortune ; but as she was 
 not over forty, the disaster was, perhaps, not irremediable ; 
 that is to say, if she could be taught to extend her forgive- 
 ness to men, and abandon her solitude. " If," he said to 
 his daughter, " Lady Camper should by any chance be in- 
 duced to contract a second alliance, she would, one might 
 expect, be humanized, and we should have highly agreeable 
 neighbours." Elizabeth artlessly hoped for such an event 
 to take place. 
 
 She rarely differed with her father, up to whom, taking 
 example from the world around him, she looked as the 
 pattern of a man of wise conduct. 
 
 And he was one; and though modest, he was in good 
 humour with himself, approved himself, and could say, 
 that without boasting of success, he was a satisfied man, 
 until he met his touchstone in Lady Camper.
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 267 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 This is the pathetic matter of my story, and it requires 
 pointing out, because he never could explain what it was 
 that seemed to him so cruel in it, for he was no brilliant 
 son of fortune, he was no great pretender, none of those 
 who are logically displaced from the heights they have 
 been raised to, manifestly created to show the moral in 
 Providence. He was modest, retiring, humbly contented; 
 a gentlemanly residence appeased his ambition. Popular, 
 he could own that he was, but not meteorically; rather by 
 reason of his willingness to receive light than his desire to 
 shed it. Why, then, was the terrible test brought to bear 
 upon him, of all men ? He was one of us ; no worse, and 
 not strikingly or perilously better ; and he could not but 
 feel, in the bitterness of his reflections upon an inexpli- 
 cable destiny, that the punishment befalling him, un- 
 merited as it was, looked like absence of Design in the 
 scheme of things Above. It looked as if the blow had 
 been dealt him by reckless chance. And to believe that, 
 was for the mind of General Ople the having to return to 
 his alphabet and recommence the ascent of the laborious 
 mountain of understanding. 
 
 To proceed, the General's introduction to Lady Camper 
 was owing to a message she sent him by her gardener, 
 with a request that he would cut down a branch of a wych- 
 elm, obscuring her view across his grounds toward the 
 river. The General consulted with his daughter, and 
 came to the conclusion, that as he could hardly despatch a 
 written reply to a verbal message, yet greatly wished to 
 subscribe to the wishes of Lady Camper, the best thing for 
 him to do was to apply for an interview. He sent word 
 that he would wait on Lady Camper immediately, and 
 betook himself forthwith to his toilette. She was the 
 niece of an earl. 
 
 Elizabeth commended his appearance, "passed him," as 
 he would have said; and well she might, for his hat, 
 surtout, trousers and boots, were worthy of an introduction
 
 268 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 to Royalty. A touch of scarlet silk round the neck gave 
 him bloom, and better than that, the blooming conscious- 
 ness of it. 
 
 "You are not to be nervous, papa," Elizabeth said. 
 
 "Not at all," replied the General. "I say, not at all, 
 my dear," he repeated, and so betrayed that he had fallen 
 into the nervous mood. "I was saying, I have known 
 worse mornings than this." He turned to her and smiled 
 brightly, nodded, and set his face to meet the future. 
 
 He was absent an hour and a half. 
 
 He came back with his radiance a little subdued, by no 
 means eclipsed ; as, when experience has afforded us matter 
 for thought, we cease to shine dazzlingly, yet are not 
 clouded; the rays have merely grown serener. The sum 
 of his impressions was conveyed in the reflective utterance 
 — "It only shows, my dear, how different the reality is 
 from our anticipation of it ! " 
 
 Lady Camper had been charming; full of condescension, 
 neighbourly, friendly, willing to be satisfied with the 
 sacrifice of the smallest branch of the wych-elm, and only 
 requiring that much for complimentary reasons. 
 
 Elizabeth wished to hear what they were, and she thought 
 the request rather singular; but the General begged her to 
 bear in mind, that they were dealing with a very extraor- 
 dinary woman; "highly accomplished, really exceedingly 
 handsome," he said to himself, aloud. 
 
 The reasons were, her liking for air and view, and desire 
 to see into her neighbour's grounds without having to 
 mount to the attic. 
 
 Elizabeth gave a slight exclamation, and blushed. 
 
 " So, my dear, we are objects of interest to her ladyship," 
 said the General. 
 
 He assured her that Lady Camper's manners were de- 
 lightful. Strange to tell, she knew a great deal of his 
 antecedent history, things he had not supposed were 
 known; "little matters," he remarked, by which his 
 daughter faintly conceived a reference to the conquests of 
 his dashing days. Lady Camper had deigned to impart 
 some of her own, incidentally; that she was of Welsh 
 blood, and born among the mountains. "She has a 
 romantic look," was the General's comment; and that hex
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 260 
 
 husband had been an insatiable traveller before he became 
 an invalid, and had never cared for Art. " Quite an 
 extraordinary circumstance, with such a wife!" the Gen- 
 eral said. 
 
 He fell upon the wych-elm with his own hands, under 
 cover of the leafage, and the next day he paid his respects 
 to Lady Camper, to inquire if her ladyship saw any further 
 obstruction to the view. 
 
 "None," she replied. "And now we shall see what the 
 two birds will do." 
 
 Apparently, then, she entertained an animosity to a pair 
 of birds in the tree. 
 
 "Yes, yes; I say they chirp early in the morning," said 
 General Ople. 
 
 "At all hours." 
 
 "The song of birds ? . . ."he pleaded softly for nature. 
 
 "If the nest is provided for them; but I don't like vaga- 
 bond chirping." 
 
 The General perfectly acquiesced. This, in an engage- 
 ment with a clever woman, is what you should do, or else 
 you are likely to find yourself planted unawares in a high 
 wind, your hat blown off, and your coat-tails anywhere; 
 in other words, you will stand ridiculous in your bewilder' 
 ment; and General Ople ever footed with the utmost 
 caution to avoid that quagmire of the ridiculous. The 
 extremer quags he had hitherto escaped; the smaller, 
 into which he fell in his agile evasions of the big, he 
 had hitherto been blest in finding none to notice. 
 
 He requested her ladyship's permission to present his 
 daughter. Lady Camper sent in her card. 
 
 Elizabeth Ople beheld a tall, handsomely -mannered lady, 
 with good features and penetrating dark eyes, an easy 
 carriage of her person and an agreeable voice, but (the 
 vision of her age flashed out under the compelling eyes of 
 youth) fifty if a day. The rich colouring confessed to it. 
 But she was very pleasing, and Elizabeth's perception 
 dwelt on it only because her father's manly chivalry had 
 defended the lady against one year more than forty. 
 
 The richness of the colouring, Elizabeth feared, was 
 artificial, and it caused her ingenuous young blood a 
 shudder. For we are so devoted to nature when the dame
 
 270 THE CASE OF GENEEAL OPLE 
 
 is flattering us with her gifts, that we loathe the substitute, 
 omitting to think how much less it is an imposition than 
 a form of practical adoration of the genuine. 
 
 Our young detective, however, concealed her emotion of 
 childish horror. 
 
 Lady Camper remarked of her, " She seems honest, and 
 that is the most we can hope of girls." 
 
 "She is a jewel for an honest man," the General sighed, 
 " some day ! " 
 
 " Let us hope it will be a distant day." 
 
 "Yet," said the General, "girls expect to marry." 
 
 Lady Camper fixed her black eyes on him, but did not 
 speak. 
 
 He told Elizabeth that her ladyship's eyes were exceed- 
 ingly searching: "Only," said he, "as I have nothing to 
 hide, I am able to submit to inspection;" and he laughed 
 slightly up to an arresting cough, and made the mantel- 
 piece ornaments pass muster. 
 
 General Ople was the hero to champion a lady whose airs 
 of haughtiness caused her to be somewhat backbitten. He 
 assured everybody, that Lady Camper was much misun- 
 derstood; she was a most remarkable woman; she was a 
 most affable and highly intelligent lady. Building up her 
 attributes on a splendid climax, he declared she was pious, 
 charitable, witty, and really an extraordinary artist. He 
 laid particular stress on her artistic qualities, describing 
 her power with the brush, her water-colour sketches, and 
 also some immensely clever caricatures. As he talked 
 of no one else, his friends heard enough of Lady Camper, 
 who was anything but a favourite. The Pollingtons, the 
 Wilders, the Wardens, the Baerens, the Goslings, and 
 others of his acquaintance, talked of Lady Camper and 
 General Ople rather maliciously. They were all City 
 people, and they admired the General, but mourned that 
 he should so abjectly have fallen at the feet of a lady 
 as red with rouge as a railway bill. His not seeing it 
 showed the state he was in. The sister of Mrs. Pollington, 
 an amiable widow, relict of a large City warehouse, named 
 Barcop, was chilled by a falling off in his attentions. His 
 apology for not appearing at garden parties was, that he 
 was engaged to wait on Lady Camper.
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 271 
 
 And at one time, her not condescending to exchange 
 visits with the obsequious General was a topic fertile in 
 irony. But she did condescend. 
 
 Lady Camper came to his gate unexpectedly, rang the 
 bell, and was let in like an ordinary visitor. It happened 
 that the General was gardening — not the pretty occupation 
 of pruning, he was digging — and of necessity his coat was 
 off, and he was hot, dusty, unpresentable. From adoring 
 earth as the mother of roses, you may pass into a lady's 
 presence without purification; you cannot (or so the Gen- 
 eral thought) when you are caught in the act of adoring 
 the mother of cabbages. And though he himself loved the 
 cabbage equally with the rose, in his heart respected the 
 vegetable yet more than he esteemed the flower, for he 
 gloried in his kitchen-garden, this was not a secret for the 
 world to know, and he almost heeled over on his beam ends 
 when word was brought of the extreme honour Lady 
 Camper had done him. He worked his arms hurriedly into 
 his fatigue jacket, trusting to get away to the house and 
 spend a couple of minutes on his adornment; and with any 
 other visitor it might have been accomplished, but Lady 
 Camper disliked sitting alone in a room. She was on the 
 square of lawn as the General stole along the walk. Had 
 she kept her back to him, he might have rounded her like 
 the shadow of a dial, undetected. She was frightfully 
 acute of hearing. She turned while he was in the agony 
 of hesitation, in a queer attitude, one leg on the march, 
 projected by a frenzied tiptoe of the hinder leg, the very 
 fatallest moment she could possibly have selected for 
 unveiling him. 
 
 Of course there was no choice but to surrender on the 
 spot. 
 
 He began to squander his dizzy wits in profuse apologies. 
 Lady Camper simply spoke of the nice little nest of a 
 garden, smelt the flowers, accepted a Niel rose and a 
 Rohan, a Celine, a Falcot, and La France. 
 
 "A beautiful rose indeed," she said of the latter, "only 
 it smells of macassar oil." 
 
 " Really, it never struck me, I say it never struck me 
 before," rejoined the General, smelling it as at a pinch of 
 /»nuff. "I was saying, I always ..." And he tacitly,
 
 272 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 with, the absurdest of smiles, begged permission to leave 
 unterminated a sentence not in itself particularly difficult. 
 
 "I have a nose," observed Lady Camper. 
 
 Like the nobly-bred person she was, according to General 
 Ople's version of the interview on his estate, when he 
 stood before her in his gardening costume, she put him at 
 his ease, or she exerted herself to do so; and if he under- 
 went considerable anguish, it was the fault of his excessive 
 scrupulousness regarding dress, propriety, appearance. 
 
 He conducted her at her request to the kitchen-garden 
 and the handful of paddock, the stables and coach-house, 
 then back to the lawn. 
 
 "It is the home for a young couple," she said. 
 
 "I am no longer young," the General bowed, with the 
 sigh peculiar to this confession. " I say, I am no longer 
 young, but I call the place a gentlemanly residence. I 
 was saying, I . . ." 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " Lady Camper tossed her head, half closing 
 her eyes, with a contraction of the brows, as if in pain. 
 
 He perceived a similar expression whenever he spoke of 
 his residence. 
 
 Perhaps it recalled happier days to enter such a nest. 
 Perhaps it had been such a home for a young couple that 
 she had entered on her marriage with Sir Scrope Camper, 
 before he inherited his title and estates. 
 
 The General was at a loss to conceive what it was. 
 
 It recurred at another mention of his idea of the nature 
 of the residence. It was almost a paroxysm. He deter- 
 mined not to vex her reminiscences again ; and as this reso- 
 lution directed his mind to his residence, thinking it 
 pre-eminently gentlemanly, his tongue committed the error 
 of repeating it, with "gentlemanlike" for a variation. 
 
 Elizabeth was out — he knew not where. The house- 
 maid informed him, that Miss Elizabeth was out rowing on 
 the water. 
 
 " Is she alone ? " Lady Camper inquired of him. 
 
 "I fancy so," the General replied. 
 
 "The poor child has no mother." 
 
 "It has been a sad loss to us both, Lady Camper." 
 
 " No doubt. She is too pretty to go out alone." 
 
 "I can trust her."
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 273 
 
 "Girls!" 
 
 "She has the spirit of a man." 
 
 "That is well. She has a spirit; it will be tried." 
 
 The General modestly furnished an instance or two of 
 her spiritedness. 
 
 Lady Camper seemed to like this theme; she looked 
 graciously interested. 
 
 "Still, you should not suffer her to go out alone," she 
 said. 
 
 "I place implicit confidence in her," said the General; 
 and Lady Camper gave it up. 
 
 She proposed to walk down the lanes to the river-side, 
 to meet Elizabeth returning. 
 
 The General manifested alacrity checked by reluctance. 
 Lady Camper had told him she objected to sit in a strange 
 room by herself; after that, he could hardly leave her to 
 dash upstairs to change his clothes; yet how, attired as he 
 was, in a fatigue jacket, that warned him not to imagine 
 his back view, and held him constantly a little to the rear 
 of Lady Camper, lest she should be troubled by it; — and 
 he knew the habit of the second rank to criticise the front 
 — how consent to face the outer world in such style side 
 by side with the lady he admired ? 
 
 "Come," said she; and he shot forward a step, looking 
 as if he had missed fire. 
 
 "Are you not coming, General ? " 
 
 He advanced mechanically. 
 
 Not a soul met them down the lanes, except a little, one, 
 to whom Lady Camper gave a small silver-piece, because 
 she was a picture. 
 
 The act of charity sank into the General's heart, as any 
 pretty performance will do upon a warm waxen bed. 
 
 Lady Camper surprised him by answering his thoughts. 
 
 "No; it 's for my own pleasure." 
 
 Presently she said, "Here they are." 
 
 General Ople beheld his daughter by the river-side at 
 the end of the lane, under escort of Mr. Keginald Rolles. 
 
 It was another picture, and a pleasing one. The young 
 lady and the young gentleman wore boating hats, and were 
 both dressed in white, and standing by or just turning from 
 the outrigger and light skiff they were about to leave in
 
 274 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 charge of a waterman. Elizabeth stretched a ringer at 
 arm's-length, issuing directions, which Mr. Rolles took up 
 and worded further to the man, for the sake of emphasis ; 
 and he, rather than Elizabeth, was guilty of the half-start 
 at sight of the persons who were approaching. 
 
 " My nephew, you should know, is intended for a work- 
 ing soldier," said Lady Camper; "I like that sort of 
 soldier best." 
 
 General Ople drooped his shoulders at the personal 
 compliment. 
 
 She resumed. "His pay is a matter of importance to 
 him. You are aware of the smallness of a subaltern's 
 pay." 
 
 "I," said the General, "I say I feel my poor half -pay, 
 having always been a working soldier myself, very impor- 
 tant, I was saying, very important to me." 
 
 " Why did you retire ? " 
 
 Her interest in him seemed promising. He replied con- 
 scientiously, " Beyond the duties of General of Brigade, I 
 could not, I say I could not, dare to aspire; I can accept 
 and execute orders; I shrink from responsibility." 
 
 "It is a pity," said she, "that you were not, like my 
 nephew Reginald, entirely dependent on your profession." 
 
 She laid such stress on her remark, that the General, 
 who had just expressed a very modest estimate of his 
 abilities, was unable to reject the flattery of her assuming 
 him to be a man of some fortune. He coughed, and said, 
 "Very little." The thought came to him that he might 
 have to make a statement to her in time, and he empha- 
 sized, "Very little indeed. Sufficient," he assured her, 
 "for a gentlemanly appearance." 
 
 "I have given you your warning," was her inscrutable 
 rejoinder, uttered within earshot of the young people, to 
 whom, especially to Elizabeth, she was gracious. The 
 damsel's boating uniform was praised, and her sunny flush 
 of exercise and exposure. 
 
 Lady Camper regretted that she could not abandon her 
 parasol: "I freckle so easily." 
 
 The General, puzzling over her strange words about a 
 warning, gazed at the red rose of art on her cheek with 
 an air of profound abstraction.
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 275 
 
 "I freckle so easily," she repeated, dropping her parasol 
 to defend her face from the calculating scrutiny. 
 
 "I burn brown," said Elizabeth. 
 
 Lady Camper laid the bud of a Falcot rose against the 
 young girl's cheek, but fetched streams of colour, that over- 
 whelmed the momentary comparison of the sun-swarthed 
 skin with the rich dusky yellow of the rose in its deepen- 
 ing inward to soft brown. 
 
 Reginald stretched his hand for the privileged flower, 
 and she let him take it; then she looked at the General; 
 but the General was looking, with his usual air of satis- 
 faction, nowhere. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 "Lady Camper is no common enigma," General Ople 
 observed to his daughter. 
 
 Elizabeth inclined to be pleased with her, for at her sug- 
 gestion the General had bought a couple of horses, that she 
 might ride in the park, accompanied by her father or the 
 little groom. Still, the great lady was hard to read. She 
 tested the resources of his income by all sorts of instigation 
 to expenditure, which his gallantry could not withstand; she 
 encouraged him to talk of his deeds in arms ; she was friendly, 
 almost affectionate, and most bountiful in the presents of 
 fruit, peaches, nectarines, grapes, and hot-house wonders 
 that she showered on his table; but she was an enigma in 
 her evident dissatisfaction with him for something he 
 seemed to have left unsaid. And what could that be ? 
 
 At their last interview she had asked him, " Are you sure, 
 General, you have nothing more to tell me ? " 
 
 And as he remarked, when relating it to Elizabeth, " One 
 might really be tempted to misapprehend her ladyship's 
 ... I say one might commit oneself beyond recovery. 
 Now, my dear, what do you think she intended ? " 
 
 Elizabeth was ' burning brown, ' or darkly blushing, as 
 her manner was. 
 
 She answered, " I am certain you know of nothing that 
 would interest her; nothing, unless ..."
 
 276 THE CASE OF GENEKAL OPLE 
 
 " Well ? " the General urged her. 
 
 " How can I speak it, papa ? " 
 
 "You really can't mean ..." 
 
 " Papa, what could I mean ? " 
 
 "If I were fool enough!" he murmured. "No, no, I 
 am an old man. I was saying, I am past the age of 
 folly." 
 
 One day Elizabeth came home from her ride in a 
 thoughtful mood. She had not, further than has been 
 mentioned, incited her father to think of the age of folly; 
 but voluntarily or not, Lady Camper had, by an excess of 
 graciousness amounting to downright invitation ; as thus, 
 " Will you persist in withholding your confidence from me, 
 General?" She added, "I am not so difficult a person." 
 These prompting speeches occurred on the morning of the 
 day when Elizabeth sat at his table, after a long ride into 
 the country, profoundly meditative. 
 
 A note was handed to General Ople, with the request 
 that he would step in to speak with Lady Camper in the 
 course of the evening, or next morning. Elizabeth waited 
 till his hat was on, then said, " Papa, on my ride to-day, 
 I met Mr. Rolles." 
 
 "I am glad you had an agreeable escort, my dear." 
 
 "I could not refuse his company." 
 
 " Certainly not. And where did you ride ? " 
 
 " To a beautiful valley ; and there we met ..." 
 
 "Her ladyship?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " She always admires you on horseback." 
 
 " So you know it, papa, if she should speak of it." 
 
 "And I am bound to tell you, my child," said the 
 General, "that this morning Lady Camper's manner to 
 me was ... if I were a fool ... I say, this morning I 
 beat a retreat, but apparently she ... I see no way out 
 of it, supposing she ..." 
 
 "I am sure she esteems you, dear papa," said Elizabeth. 
 
 " You take to her, my dear ? " the General inquired anx- 
 iously; "a little ? — a little afraid of her ?" 
 
 "A little," Elizabeth replied, "only a little." 
 
 "Don't be agitated about me." 
 
 "No, papa j you are sure to do right."
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 277 
 
 *But you are trembling." 
 
 "Oh! no. I wish you success." 
 
 General Ople was overjoyed to be reinforced by his 
 daughter's good wishes. He kissed her to thank her. He 
 turned back to her to kiss her again. She had greatly 
 lightened the difficulty at least of a delicate position. 
 
 It was just like the imperious nature of Lady Camper to 
 summon him in the evening to terminate the conversation 
 of the morning, from the visible pitfall of which he had 
 beaten a rather precipitate retreat. But if his daughter 
 cordially wished him success, and Lady Camper offered 
 him the crown of it, why then he had only to pluck up 
 spirit, like a good commander who has to pass a fordable 
 river in the enemy's presence; a dash, a splash, a rattling 
 volley or two, and you are over, established on the opposite 
 bank. But you must be positive of victory, otherwise, 
 with the river behind you, your new position is likely to 
 be ticklish. So the General entered Lady Camper's 
 drawing-room warily, watching the fair enemy. He knew 
 he was captivating, his old conquests whispered in his ears, 
 and her reception of him all but pointed to a footstool at 
 her feet. He might have fallen there at once, had he not 
 remembered a hint that Mr. Reginald Rolles had dropped 
 concerning Lady Camper's amazing variability. 
 
 Lady Camper began. 
 
 " General, you ran away from me this morning. Let me 
 speak. And, by the way, I must reproach you ; you should 
 not have left it to me. Things have now gone so far that I 
 cannot pretend to be blind. I know your feelings as a 
 father. Your daughter's happiness ..." 
 
 " My lady, " the General interposed, " I have her distinct 
 assurance that it is, I say it is wrapt up in mine." 
 
 " Let me speak. Young people will say anything. Well, 
 they have a certain excuse for selfishness ; we have not. I 
 am in some degree bound to my nephew; he is my sister's 
 son. " 
 
 " Assuredly, my lady. I would not stand in his light, 
 be quite assured. If I am, I was saying if I am not mis- 
 taken, I . . . and he is, or has the making of an excellent 
 soldier in him, and is likely to be a distinguished cavalry 
 officer."
 
 278 THE CASE OF GENEKAL OPLE 
 
 "He has to carve his own way in the world, General." 
 
 " All good soldiers have, my lady. And if my position 
 is not, after a considerable term of service, I say if . . ." 
 
 "To continue," said Lady Camper: "I never have liked 
 early marriages. I was married in my teens before I knew 
 men. Now I do know them, and now ..." 
 
 The General plunged forward: "The honour you do us 
 now: — a mature experience is worth: — my dear Lady 
 Camper, I have admired you : — and your objection to early 
 marriages cannot apply to . . . indeed, madam, vigour, 
 they say . . . though youth, of course . . . yet young 
 people, as you observe . . . and I have, though perhaps 
 my reputation is against it, I was saying I have a natural 
 timidity with your sex, and I am grey-headed, white- 
 headed, but happily without a single malady." 
 
 Lady Camper's brows showed a trifling bewilderment. 
 "I am speaking of these young people, General Ople." 
 
 "I consent to everything beforehand, my dear lady. 
 He should be, I say Mr. Rolles should be provided for." 
 
 "So should she, General, so should Elizabeth." 
 
 "She shall be, she will, dear madam. What I have, 
 with your permission, if — good heaven! Lady Camper, I 
 scarcely know where I am. She would ... I shall not 
 like to lose her : you would not wish it. In time she will 
 . . . she has every quality of a good wife." 
 
 "There, stay there, and be intelligible," said Lady 
 Camper. " She has every quality. Money should be one 
 of them. Has she money ? " 
 
 "Oh! my lady," the General exclaimed, "we shall not 
 come upon your purse when her time comes." 
 
 " Has she ten thousand pounds ? " 
 
 " Elizabeth ? She will have, at her father's death . . . 
 but as for my income, it is moderate, and only sufficient to 
 maintain a gentlemanly appearance in proper self-respect. 
 I make no show. I say I make no show. A wealthy mar- 
 riage is the last thing on earth I should have aimed at. i 
 prefer quiet and retirement. Personally, I mean. Thai 
 is my personal taste. But if the lady : I say if it should 
 happen that the lady . . . and indeed I am not one to 
 press a suit: but if she who distinguishes and honours me 
 should chance to be wealth/, all I can do is to leave her
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 279 
 
 wealth at her disposal, and that I do: I do that unre- 
 servedly. I feel I am very confused, alarmingly confused. 
 Your ladyship merits a superior ... I trust I have not 
 ... I am entirely at your ladyship's mercy." 
 
 "Are you prepared, if your daughter is asked in mar- 
 riage, to settle ten thousand pounds on her, General 
 Ople ? " 
 
 The General collected himself. In his heart he thor- 
 oughly appreciated the moral beauty of Lady Camper's 
 extreme solicitude on behalf of his daughter's provision; 
 but he would have desired a postponement of that and other 
 material questions belonging to a distant future until his 
 own fate was decided. 
 
 So he said : " Your ladyship's generosity is very marked. 
 I say it is very marked." 
 
 "How, my good General Ople! how is it marked in any 
 degree ? " cried Lady Camper. " I am not generous. I 
 don't pretend to be ; and certainly I don't want the young 
 people to think me so. I want to be just. I have assumed 
 that you intend to be the same. Then will you do me the 
 favour to reply to me ? " 
 
 The General smiled winningly and intently, to show her 
 that he prized her, and would not let her escape his 
 eulogies. 
 
 "Marked, in this way, dear madam, that you think of 
 my daughter's future more than I. I say, more than her 
 father himself does. I know I ought to speak more 
 warmly, I feel warmly. I was never an eloquent man, 
 and if you take me as a soldier, I am, as I have ever been 
 in the service, I was saying I am Wilson Ople, of the grade 
 of General, to be relied on for executing orders; and, 
 madam, you are Lady Camper, and you command me. I 
 cannot be more precise. In fact, it is the feeling of the 
 necessity for keeping close to the business that destroys 
 what I would say. I am in fact lamentably incompetent 
 to conduct my own case." 
 
 Lady Camper left her chair. 
 
 "Dear me, this is very strange, unless I am singularly 
 in error," she said. 
 
 The General now faintly guessed that he might be in 
 error, for his part.
 
 280 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 But he had burned his ships, blown up his bridges; 
 retreat could not be thought of. 
 
 He stood, his head bent and appealing to her side-face, 
 like one pleadingly in pursuit, and very deferentially, with 
 a courteous vehemence, he entreated first her ladyship's 
 pardon for his presumption, and then the gift of her lady- 
 ship's hand. 
 
 As for his language, it was the tongue of General Ople. 
 But his bearing was fine. If his clipped white silken hair 
 spoke of age, his figure breathed manliness. He was a 
 picture, and she loved pictures. 
 
 For his own sake, she begged him to cease. She dreaded 
 to hear of something " gentlemanly." 
 
 " This is a new idea to me, my dear General," she said. 
 " You must give me time. People at our age have to think 
 of fitness. Of course, in a sense, we are both free to do as 
 we like. Perhaps I may be of some aid to you. My pref- 
 erence is for absolute independence. And I wished to talk 
 of a different affair. Come to me to-morrow. Do not be 
 hurt if I decide that we had better remain as we are." 
 
 The General bowed. His efforts, and the wavering of 
 the fair enemy's flag, had inspired him with a positive re- 
 awakening of masculine passion to gain this fortress. He 
 said well : " I have, then, the happiness, madam, of being 
 allowed to hope until to-morrow?" * 
 
 She replied, " I would not deprive you of a moment of 
 happiness. Bring good sense with you when you do 
 come." 
 
 The General asked eagerly, " I have your ladyship's per- 
 mission to come early ? " 
 
 " Consult your happiness," she answered ; and if to his 
 mind she seemed returning to the state of enigma, it was 
 on the whole deliciously. She restored him his youth. 
 He told Elizabeth that night, he really must begin to think 
 of marrying her to some worthy young fellow. " Though," 
 said he, with an air of frank intoxication, " my opinion is, 
 the young ones are not so lively as the old in these days, or 
 I should have been besieged before now." 
 
 The exact substance of the interview he forbore to re- 
 late to his inquisitive daughter, with a very honourable 
 discretion.
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 281 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Elizabeth came riding home to breakfast from a gallop 
 round the park, and passing Lady Camper's gates, received 
 the salutation of her parasol. Lady Camper talked with her 
 through the bars. There was not a sign to tell of a change 
 or twist in her neighbourly affability. She remarked sim- 
 ply enough, that it was her nephew's habit to take early 
 gallops, and possibly Elizabeth might have seen him, for 
 his quarters were proximate; but she did not demand an 
 answer. She had passed a rather restless night, she said. 
 " How is the General ? " 
 
 "Papa must have slept soundly, for he usually calls to me 
 through his door when he hears I am up," said Elizabeth. 
 
 Lady Camper nodded kindly and walked on. 
 
 Early in the morning General Ople was ready for battle. 
 His forces were, the anticipation of victory, a carefully 
 arranged toilette, and an unaccustomed spirit of enterprise 
 in the realms of speech ; for he was no longer in such awe 
 of Lady Camper. 
 
 " You have slept well ? " she inquired. 
 
 "Excellently, my lady." 
 
 "Yes, your daughter tells me she heard you, as she went 
 by your door in the morning for a ride to meet my nephew. 
 You are, I shall assume, prepared for business." 
 
 "Elizabeth? ... to meet? . . ." General Ople's im- 
 pression of anything extraneous to his emotion was feeble 
 and passed instantly. " Prepared ! Oh, certainly ; " and 
 he struck in a compliment on her ladyship's fresh morning 
 bloom. 
 
 " It can hardly be visible," she responded; "I have not 
 painted yet." 
 
 "Does your ladyship proceed to your painting in the 
 very early morning?" 
 
 " Rouge. I rouge." 
 
 " Dear me ! I should not have supposed it." 
 
 "You have speculated on it very openly, General. I 
 remember your trying to see a freckle through the rouge ; 
 but the truth is, I am of a supernatural paleness if I do not
 
 282 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 rouge, so I do. You understand, therefore, I have a false 
 complexion. Now to business." 
 
 " If your ladyship insists on calling it business. I have 
 little to offer — myself!" 
 
 "You have a gentlemanly residence." 
 
 "It is, my lady, it is. It is a bijou." 
 
 "Ah! " Lady Camper sighed dejectedly. 
 
 " It is a perfect bijou ! " 
 
 "Oblige me, General, by not pronouncing the French 
 word as if you were swearing by something in English, 
 like a trooper." 
 
 General Ople started, admitted that the word was French, 
 and apologized for his pronunciation. Her variability was 
 now visible over a corner of the battlefield like a thunder- 
 cloud. 
 
 "The business we have to discuss concerns the young 
 people, General." 
 
 "Yes," brightened by this, he assented: "Yes, dear 
 Lady Camper ; it is a part of the business ; it is a secon- 
 dary part ; it has to be discussed ; I say I subscribe before- 
 hand. I may say, that honouring, esteeming you as I do, 
 and hoping ardently for your consent . . ." 
 
 "They must have a home and an income, General." 
 
 " I presume, dearest lady, that Elizabeth will be welcome 
 in your home. I certainly shall never chase Reginald out 
 of mine." 
 
 Lady Camper threw back her head. " Then you are not 
 yet awake, or you practice the art of sleeping with open 
 eyes ! Now listen to me. I rouge, I have told you. I 
 like colour, and I do not like to see wrinkles or have them 
 seen. Therefore I rouge. I do not expect to deceive the 
 world so flagrantly as to my age, and you I would not 
 deceive for a moment. I am seventy." 
 
 The effect of this noble frankness on the General was to 
 raise him from his chair in a sitting posture as if he had 
 been blown up. 
 
 Her countenance was inexorably imperturbable under his 
 alternate blinking and gazing that drew her close and shot 
 her distant, like a mysterious toy. 
 
 "But," said she, "I am an artist; I dislike the look of 
 extreme age, so I conceal it as well as I can. You are very
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 283 
 
 kind to fall in with the deception: an innocent and, I 
 think, a proper one, before the world, though not to the 
 gentleman who does me the honour to propose to me for 
 my hand. You desire to settle our business first. You 
 esteem me ; I suppose you mean as much as young people 
 mean when they say they love. Do you ? Let us come to 
 an understanding." 
 
 " I can," the melancholy General gasped, " I say I can — 
 I cannot — I cannot credit your ladyship's . . ." 
 
 " You are at liberty to call me Angela." 
 
 "Ange . . ." he tried it, and in shame relapsed. 
 "Madam, yes. Thanks." 
 
 " Ah," cried Lady Camper, " do not use these vulgar con- 
 tractions of decent speech in my presence. I abhor the 
 word 'thanks.' It is fit for fribbles." 
 
 "Dear me, I have used it all my life," groaned the 
 General. 
 
 "Then, for the remainder, be it understood that you 
 renounce it. To continue, my age is . . ." 
 
 " Oh, impossible, impossible," the General almost wailed ; 
 there was really a crack in his voice. 
 
 "Advancing to seventy. But, like you, I am happy to 
 say I have not a malady. I bring no invalid frame to an 
 union that necessitates the leaving of the front door open 
 day and night to the doctor. My belief is, I could follow 
 my husband still on a campaign, if he were a warrior in- 
 stead of a pensioner." 
 
 General Ople winced. 
 
 He was about to say humbly, "As General of Bri- 
 gade ..." 
 
 "Yes, yes, you want a commanding officer, and that I 
 have seen, and that has caused me to meditate on your 
 proposal," she interrupted him ; while he, studying her 
 countenance hard, with the painful aspect of a youth who 
 lashes a donkey memory in an examination by word of 
 mouth, attempted to marshal her signs of younger years 
 against her awful confession of the extremely ancient, the 
 witheringly ancient. But for the manifest rouge, manifest 
 in spite of her declaration that she had not yet that morning 
 proceeded to her paint-brush, he would have thrown down 
 his glove to challenge her on the subject of her age. She had
 
 284 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLB 
 
 actually charms. Her mouth had a charm ; her eyes were 
 lively ; her figure, mature if you like, was at least full and 
 good ; she stood upright, she had a queenly seat. His men- 
 tal ejaculation was, " What a wonderful constitution ! " 
 
 By a lapse of politeness, he repeated it to himself half 
 aloud ; he was shockingly nervous. 
 
 " Yes, I have finer health than many a younger woman," 
 she said. "An ordinary calculation would give me twenty 
 good years to come. I am a widow, as you know. And, 
 by the way, you have a leaning for widows. Have you 
 not ? I thought I had heard of a widow Barcop in this 
 parish. Do not protest. I assure you I am a stranger to 
 jealousy. My income . . ." 
 
 The General raised his hands. 
 
 "Well, then," said the cool and self-contained lady, 
 "before I go farther, I may ask you, knowing what you 
 have forced me to confess, are you still of the same mind 
 as to marriage ? And one moment, General. I promise 
 you most sincerely that your withdrawing a step shall not, 
 as far as it touches me, affect my neighbourly and friendly 
 sentiments ; not in any degree. Shall we be as we were ? " 
 
 Lady Camper extended her delicate hand to him. 
 
 He took it respectfully, inspected the aristocratic and 
 unshrunken fingers, and kissing them, said, "I never with- 
 draw from a position, unless I am beaten back. Lady 
 Camper, I . . ." 
 
 " My name is Angela." 
 
 The General tried again : he could not utter the name. 
 
 To call a lady of seventy Angela is difficult in itself. It 
 is, it seems, thrice difficult in the way of courtship. 
 
 " Angela ! " said she. 
 
 " Yes. I say, there is not a more beautiful female name, 
 dear Lady Camper." 
 
 "Spare me that word 'female' as long as you live. 
 Address me by that name, if you please." 
 
 The General smiled. The smile was meant for propitia* 
 tion and sweetness. It became a brazen smile. 
 
 "Unless you wish to step back," said she. 
 
 "Indeed, no. I am happy, Lady Camper. My life is 
 yours. I say, my life is devoted to you, dear madam." 
 
 " Angela ! "
 
 AND LADY CAMTER 285 
 
 General Ople was blushingly delivered of the name. 
 
 "That will do," said she. "And as I think it possible 
 one may be admired too much as an artist, I must request 
 you to keep my number of years a secret." 
 
 " To the death, madam," said the General. 
 
 "And now we will take a turn in the garden, Wilson 
 Ople. And beware of one thing, for a commencement, for 
 you are full of weeds, and I mean to pluck out a few: 
 never call any place a gentlemanly residence in my hearing, 
 nor let it come to my ears that you have been using the 
 phrase elsewhere. Don't express astonishment. At pres- 
 ent it is enough that I dislike it. But this only," Lady 
 Camper added, "this only if it is not your intention to 
 withdraw from your position." 
 
 "Madam, my lady, I was saying — hem! — Angela, I 
 could not wish to withdraw." 
 
 Lady Camper leaned with some pressure on his arm, 
 observing, " You have a curious attachment to antiquities." 
 
 " My dear lady, it is your mind ; I say, it is your mind : 
 I was saying, I am in love with your mind," the General 
 endeavoured to assure her, and himself too. 
 
 " Or is it my powers as an artist ? " 
 
 " Your mind, your extraordinary powers of mind." 
 
 "Well," said Lady Camper, "a veteran General of 
 Brigade is as good a crutch as a childless old grannam can 
 have." 
 
 And, as a crutch, General Ople, parading her grounds 
 with the aged woman, found himself used and treated. 
 
 The accuracy of his perceptions might be questioned. 
 He was like a man stunned by some great tropical fruit, 
 which responds to the longing of his eyes by falling on his 
 head ; but it appeared to him, that she increased in bitter- 
 ness at every step they took, as if determined to make him 
 realize her wrinkles. 
 
 He was even so inconsequent, or so little recognized his 
 position, as to object in his heart to hear himself called 
 Wilson. 
 
 It is true that she uttered Wilsonople as if the names 
 formed one word. And on a second occasion (when he 
 inclined to feel hurt) she remarked, "I fear me, Wilsonople, 
 if we are to speak plainly, thou art but a fool." He, per-
 
 286 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 haps, naturally objected to that. He was, however, giddy, 
 and barely knew. 
 
 Yet once more the magical woman changed. All sem- 
 blance of harshness, and harridan-like spike-tonguedness, 
 vanished when she said adieu. 
 
 The astronomer, looking at the crusty jag and scoria of 
 the magnified moon through his telescope, and again with 
 naked eyes at the soft-beaming moou, when the crater- 
 ridges are faint as eyebrow-pencillings, has a similar sharp 
 alternation of prospect to that which mystified General 
 Ople. 
 
 But between watching an orb that is only variable at our 
 caprice, and contemplating a woman who shifts and quivers 
 ever with her own, how vast the difference ! 
 
 And consider that this woman is about to be one's wife ! 
 
 He could have believed (if he had not known full surely 
 that such things are not) he was in the hands of a witch. 
 
 Lady Camper's "adieu" was perfectly beautiful — a kind, 
 cordial, intimate, above all, to satisfy his present craving, 
 it was a lady-like adieu — the adieu of a delicate and ele- 
 gant woman, who had hardly left her anchorage by forty 
 to sail into the fifties. 
 
 Alas ! he had her word for it, that she was not less than 
 seventy. And, worse, she had betrayed most melancholy 
 signs of sourness and agedness as soon as he had sworn 
 himself to her fast and fixed. 
 
 "The road is open to you to retreat," were her last 
 words. 
 
 " My road," he answered gallantly, " is forward." 
 
 He was drawing backward as he said it, and something 
 provoked her to smile. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 It is a noble thing to say that your road is forward, and it 
 befits a man of battles. General Ople was too loyal a gen- 
 tleman to think of any other road. Still, albeit not gifted 
 with imagination, he could not avoid the feeling that he had 
 set his face to Winter. He found himself suddenly walk-
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 287 
 
 ing straight into the heart of Winter, and a nipping Winter. 
 For her ladyship had proved acutely nipping. His little 
 customary phrases, to which Lady Camper objected, he 
 could see no harm in whatever. Conversing with her in 
 the privacy of domestic life would never be the flowing 
 business that it is for other men. It would demand 
 perpetual vigilance, hop, skip, jump, flounderings, and 
 apologies. 
 
 This was not a pleasing prospect. 
 
 On the L'ther hand, she was the niece of an earl. She 
 was wealthy. She might be an excellent friend to Eliza- 
 beth ; and she could be, when she liked, both command- 
 ingly and bewitchingly ladylike. 
 
 Good ! But he was a General Officer of not more than 
 fifty-five, in his full vigour, and she a woman of seventy ! 
 
 The prospect was bleak. It resembled an outlook on 
 the steppes. In point of the discipline he was to expect, 
 he might be compared to a raw recruit, and in his own 
 home ! 
 
 However, she was a woman of mind. One would be 
 proud of her. 
 
 But did he know the worst of her ? A dreadful presenti- 
 ment, that he did not know the worst of her, rolled an 
 ocean of gloom upon General Ople, striking out one 
 solitary thought in the obscurity, namely, that he was 
 about to receive punishment for retiring from active ser- 
 vice to a life of ease at a comparatively early age, when 
 still in marching trim. And the shadow of the thought 
 was, that he deserved the punishment ! 
 
 He was in his garden with the dawn. Hard exercise is 
 the best of opiates for dismal reflections. The General 
 discomposed his daughter by offering to accompany her on 
 her morning ride before breakfast. She considered that 
 it would fatigue him. " I am not a man of eighty ! " he 
 cried. He could have wished he had been. 
 
 He led the way to the park, where they soon had 
 sight of young Holies, who checked his horse and spied 
 them like a vedette, but, perceiving that he had been 
 seen, came cantering, and hailing the General with hearty 
 wonderment. 
 
 " And what 's this the world says, General ? " said he.
 
 288 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 " But we all applaud your taste. My aunt Angela was the 
 handsomest woman of her time." 
 
 The General murmured in confusion, " Dear me ! " and 
 looked at the young man, thinking that he could not have 
 known the time. 
 
 "Is all arranged, my dear General ?" 
 
 " Nothing is arranged, and I beg — I say I beg ... J 
 came out for fresh air and pace." 
 
 The General rode frantically. 
 
 In spite of the fresh air, he was unable to eat at break- 
 fast. He was bound, of course, to present himself to Lady 
 Camper, in common civility, immediately after it. 
 
 And first, what were the phrases he had to avoid utter- 
 ing in her presence ? He could remember only the " gentle- 
 manly residence." And it was a gentlemanly residence, he 
 thought as he took leave of it. It was one, neatly named 
 to fit the place. Lady Camper is indeed a most eccentric 
 person! he decided from his experience of her. 
 
 He was rather astonished that young Holies should have 
 spoken so coolly of his aunt's leaning to matrimony ; but 
 perhaps her exact age was unknown to the younger mem- 
 bers of her family. 
 
 This idea refreshed him by suggesting the extremely 
 honourable nature of Lady Camper's uncomfortable con- 
 fession. 
 
 He himself had an uncomfortable confession to make. 
 He would have to speak of his income. He was living 
 up to the edges of it. 
 
 She is an upright woman, and I must be the same ! he 
 said, fortunately not in her hearing. 
 
 The subject was disagreeable to a man sensitive on the 
 topic of money, and feeling that his prudence had recently 
 been misled to keep up appearances. 
 
 Lady Camper was in her garden, reclining under her 
 parasol. A chair was beside her, to which, acknowledging 
 the salutation of her suitor, she waved him. 
 
 "You have met my nephew Reginald this morning, 
 General ? " 
 
 " Curiously, in the park, this morning, before breakfast, 
 I did, yes. Hem! I, I say I did meet him. Has your 
 ladyship seen him ? v
 
 AND LADY CAMBER £U) 
 
 " No. The park is very pretty in the early morning.* 
 
 " Sweetly pretty." 
 
 Lady Camper raised her head, and with the mildness of 
 assured dictatorship, pronounced : " Never say that before 
 me." 
 
 " I submit, my lady," said the poor scourged man. 
 
 "Why, naturally you do. Vulgar phrases have to be 
 endured, except when our intimates are guilty, and then 
 we are not merely offended, we are compromised by them. 
 You are still of the mind in which you left me yesterday ? 
 You are one day older. But I warn you, so am I." 
 
 " Yes, my lady, we cannot, I say we cannot check time. 
 Decidedly of the same mind. Quite so." 
 
 " Oblige me by never saying < Quite so.' My lawyer says 
 it. It reeks of the City of London. And do not look so 
 miserable." 
 
 " I, madam ? my dear lady ! " the General flashed out 
 in a radiance that dulled instantly. 
 
 " Well," said she, cheerfully, " and you 're for the old 
 woman?" 
 
 " For Lady Camper." 
 
 "You are seductive in your flatteries, General. Well, 
 then, we have to speak of business." 
 
 " My affairs " General Ople was beginning, with 
 
 perturbed forehead ; but Lady Camper held up her finger. 
 
 " We will touch on your affairs incidentally. Now listen 
 to me, and do not exclaim until I have finished. You know 
 that these two young ones have been whispering over the 
 wall for some months. They have been meeting on the 
 river and in the park habitually, apparently with your 
 consent." 
 
 "My lady!" 
 
 " I did not say with your connivance." 
 
 " You mean my daughter Elizabeth ? " 
 
 " And my nephew Reginald. We have named them, if 
 that advances us. Now, the end of such meetings is mar- 
 riage, and the sooner the better, if they are to continue. 
 I would rather they should not ; I do not hold it good for 
 young soldiers to marry. But if they do, it is very certain 
 that their pay will not support a family ; and in a marriage 
 of two healthy young people, we have to assume the ex-
 
 290 THE CASE OF GENEEAL OPLE 
 
 istence of the family. You have allowed matters to go so 
 far that the boy is hot in love ; I suppose the girl is, too. 
 She is a nice girl. I do not object to her personally. But 
 I insist that a settlement be made on her before I give my 
 nephew one penny. Hear me out, for I am not fond of 
 business, and shall be glad to have done with these expla- 
 nations. Reginald has nothing of his own. He is my 
 sister's son, and I loved her, and rather like the boy. He 
 has at present four hundred a-year from me. I will double 
 it, on the condition that you at once make over ten thou- 
 sand — not less ; and let it be yes or no ! — to be settled 
 on your daughter and go to her children, independent of 
 the husband — cela va sans dire. Now you may speak, 
 General." 
 
 The General spoke, with breath fetched from the deeps : 
 " Ten thousand pounds ! Hem ! Ten ! Hem, frankly 
 
 — ten, my lady ! One's income — I am quite taken by 
 surprise. I say Elizabeth's conduct — though, poor child! 
 it is natural to her to seek a mate, I mean, to accept a mate 
 and an establishment, and Reginald is a very hopeful fellow 
 
 — I was saying, they jump on me out of an ambush, and I 
 wish them every happiness. And she is an ardent soldier, 
 and a soldier she must marry. But ten thousand! " 
 
 " It is to secure the happiness of your daughter, General." 
 
 " Pounds ! my lady. It would rather cripple me." 
 
 " You would have my house, General ; you would have 
 
 the moiety, as the lawyers say, of my purse ; you would 
 
 have horses, carriages, servants ; I do not divine what more 
 
 you would wish to have." 
 
 "But, madam — a pensioner on the Government! I can 
 look back on past services, I say old services, and I accept 
 my position. But, madam, a pensioner on my wife, bring- 
 ing next to nothing to the common estate! I fear my self- 
 respect would, I say would . . ." 
 
 " Well, and what would it do, General Ople ? " 
 "I was saying, my self-respect as my wife's pensioner, 
 my lady. I could not come to her empty-handed." 
 
 11 Do you expect that I should be the person to settle 
 money on your daughter, to save her from mischances ? 
 A rakish husband, for example ; for Reginald is young, 
 and no one can guess what will be made of him."
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 291 
 
 " Undoubtedly your ladyship is correct. We might try 
 absence for the poor girl. I have no female relation, but 
 I could send her to the sea-side to a lady-friend." 
 
 "General Ople, I forbid you, as you value my esteem, 
 ever — and I repeat, I forbid you ever — to afflict my ears 
 with that phrase, ' lady-friend! ' " 
 
 The General blinked in a state of insurgent humility. 
 
 These incessant whippings could not but sting the hum- 
 blest of men ; and " lady-friend," he was sure, was a very 
 common term, used, he was sure, in the very best society. 
 He had never heard Her Majesty speak at levees of a lady- 
 friend, but he was quite sure that she had one ; and if so, 
 what could be the objection to her subjects mentioning it 
 as a term to suit their own circumstances ? 
 
 He was harassed and perplexed by old Lady Camper's 
 treatment of him, and he resolved not to call her Angela 
 even upon supplication — not that day, at least. 
 
 She said, " You will not need to bring property of any 
 kind to the common estate ; I neither look for it nor desire 
 it. The generous thing for you to do would be to give 
 your daughter all you have, and come to me." 
 
 " But, Lady Camper, if I denude myself or curtail my 
 income — a man at his wife's discretion,. I was saying a 
 man at his wife's mercy! . . ." 
 
 General Ople was really forced, by his manly dignity, 
 to make this protest on its behalf. He did not see how 
 he could have escaped doing so; he was more an agent 
 than a principal. " My wife 's mercy," he said again, but 
 simply as a herald proclaiming superior orders. 
 
 Lady Camper's brows were wrathful. A deep blood- 
 crimson overcame the rouge, and gave her a terrible stormy 
 look. 
 
 " The congress now ceases to sit, and the treaty is not 
 concluded," was all she said. 
 
 She rose, bowed to him, "Good morning, General," and 
 turned her back. 
 
 He sighed. He was a free man. But this could not be 
 denied — whatever the lady's age, she was a grand woman 
 in her carriage, and when looking angry, she had a queen- 
 like aspect that raised her out of the reckoning of time. 
 
 So now he knew there was a worse behind what he had
 
 292 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 previously known. He was precipitate in calling it the 
 worst. " Now," said he to himself, " I know the worst! " 
 
 No man should ever say it. Least of all, one who has 
 entered into relations with an eccentric lady. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Politeness required that General Ople should not appear 
 to rejoice in his dismissal as a suitor, and should at least 
 make some show of holding himself at the beck of a recon- 
 sidering mind. He was guilty of running up to London 
 early next day, and remaining absent until nightfall ; and 
 he did the same on the two following days. When he 
 presented himself at Lady Camper's lodge-gates, the as- 
 tonishing intelligence, that her ladyship had departed for 
 the Continent and Egypt, gave him qualms of remorse, 
 which assumed a more definite shape in something like 
 awe of her triumphant constitution. He forbore to men- 
 tion her age, for he was the most honourable of men, but 
 a habit of tea-table talkativeness impelled him to say and 
 repeat an idea that had visited him, to the effect, that Lady 
 Camper was one of those wonderful women who are com- 
 parable to brilliant generals, and defend themselves from 
 the siege of Time by various aggressive movements. Fear- 
 ful of not being understood, owing to the rarity of the 
 occasions when the squat plain squad of honest Saxon 
 regulars at his command were called upon to explain an 
 idea, he re-cast the sentence. P>ut, as it happened that 
 the regulars of his vocabulary were not numerous, and not 
 accustomed to work upon thoughts and images, his repe- 
 titions rather succeeded in exposing the piece of knowledge 
 he had recently acquired than in making his meaning 
 plainer. So we need not marvel that his acquaintances 
 should suppose him to be secretly aware of an extreme 
 degree in which Lady Camper was a veteran. 
 
 General Ople entered into the gaieties of the neighbour- 
 hood once more, and passed through the Winter cheerfully. 
 In justice to him, however, it should be said that to the
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 293 
 
 intent dwelling of his mind upon Lady Camper, and not to 
 the festive life he led, was due his entire ignorance of his 
 daughter's unhappiness. She lived with him, and yet it 
 was in other houses he learnt that she was unhappy. 
 After his last interview with Lady Camper, he had in- 
 formed Elizabeth of the ruinous and preposterous amount 
 of money demanded of him for a settlement upon her : and 
 Elizabeth, like the girl of good sense that she was, had 
 replied immediately, "It could not be thought of, papa." 
 He had spoken to Reginald likewise. The young man 
 fell into a dramatic tearing-of-hair and long-stride fury, 
 not ill becoming an enamoured dragoon. But he main- 
 tained that his aunt, though an eccentric, was a cordially 
 kind woman. He seemed to feel, if he did not partly 
 hint, that the General might have accepted Lady Camper's 
 terms. The young officer could no longer be welcome at 
 Douro Lodge, so the General paid him a morning call at 
 his quarters, and was distressed to find him breakfasting 
 very late, tapping eggs that he forgot to open — one of 
 the surest signs of a young man downright and deep in 
 love, as the General knew from experience — and sur- 
 rounded by uncut sporting journals of past weeks, which 
 dated from the day when his blow had struck him, as 
 accurately as the watch of the drowned man marks his 
 minute. Lady Camper had gone to Italy, and was in com- 
 munication with her nephew: Reginald was not further 
 explicit. His legs were very prominent in his despair, 
 and his fingers frequently performed the part of blunt 
 combs; consequently the General was impressed by his 
 passion for Elizabeth. The girl who, if she was often 
 meditative, always met his eyes with a smile, and quietly 
 said "Yes, papa," and "No, papa," gave him little concern 
 as to the state of her feelings. Yet everybody said now 
 that she was unhappy. Mrs. Barcop, the widow, raised 
 her voice above the rest. So attentive was she to Eliza- 
 beth that the General had it kindly suggested to him, that 
 someone was courting him through his daughter. He 
 gazed at the widow. Now she was not much past thirty; 
 and it was really singular — he could have laughed — 
 thinking of Mrs. Barcop set him persistently thinking of 
 Lady Camper. That is to say, his mad fancy reverted
 
 294 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 from the lady of perhaps thirty -five to the lady of seventy! 
 Such, thought he, is genius in a woman! Of his neigh- 
 bours generally, Mrs. Baerens, the wife of a German 
 merchant, an exquisite player on the pianoforte, was the 
 most inclined to lead him to speak of Lady Camper. She 
 was a kind prattling woman, and was known to have been 
 a governess before her charms withdrew the gastronomic 
 Gottfried Baerens from his devotion to the well-served City 
 Club, where, as he exclaimed (ever turning fondly to his 
 wife as he vocalized the compliment), he had found every 
 necessity, every luxury, in life, " as you cannot have dem 
 out of London — all save de female!" Mrs. Baerens, a 
 lady of Teutonic extraction, was distinguishable as of that 
 sex; at least, she was not masculine. She spoke with 
 great respect of Lady Camper and her family, and seemed 
 to agree in the General's eulogies of Lady Camper's consti- 
 tution. Still he thought she eyed him strangely. 
 
 One April morning the General received a letter with the 
 Italian postmark. Opening it with his usual calm and 
 happy curiosity, he perceived that it was composed of pen- 
 and-ink drawings. And suddenly his heart sank like a 
 scuttled ship. He saw himself the victim of a caricature. 
 
 The first sketch had merely seemed picturesque, and he 
 supposed it a clever play of fancy by some travelling 
 friend, or perhaps an actual scene slightly exaggerated. 
 Even on reading, " A distant view of the city of Wilson- 
 ople," he was only slightly enlightened. His heart beat 
 still with befitting regularity. But the second and the 
 third sketches betrayed the terrible hand. The distant 
 view of the city of Wilsonople was fair with glittering 
 domes, which, in the succeeding near view, proved to have 
 been soap-bubbles, for a place of extreme flatness, begirt 
 with crazy old-fashioned fortifications, was shown ; and in 
 the third view, representing the interior, stood for sole 
 place of habitation, a sentry-box. 
 
 Most minutely drawn, and, alas ! with fearful accuracy, 
 a military gentleman in undress occupied the box. Not a 
 doubt could exist as to the person it was meant to be. 
 
 The General tried hard to remain incredulous. He 
 remembered too well who had called him Wilsonople. 
 
 But here was the extraordinary thing that sent him over
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 295 
 
 the neighbourhood canvassing for exclamations: on the 
 fourth page was the outline of a lovely feminine hand, 
 holding a pen, as in the act of shading, and under it these 
 words: " What I say is, I say I think it exceedingly 
 unladylike." 
 
 Now consider the General's feelings when, turning to 
 this fourth page, having these very words in his mouth, 
 as the accurate expression of his thoughts, he discovered 
 them written! 
 
 An enemy who anticipates the actions of our mind has a 
 quality of the malignant divine that may well inspire 
 terror. The senses of General Ople were struck by the 
 aspect of a lurid Goddess, who penetrated him, read him 
 through, and had both power and will to expose and make 
 him ridiculous for ever. 
 
 The loveliness of the hand, too, in a perplexing manner 
 contested his denunciation of her conduct. It was ladylike 
 eminently, and it involved him in a confused mixture of 
 the moral and material, as great as young people are known 
 to feel when they make the attempt to separate them, 
 in one of their frenzies. 
 
 With a petty bitter laugh he folded the letter, put it in 
 his breast-pocket, and sallied forth for a walk, chiefly to 
 talk to himself about it. But as it absorbed him entirely, 
 he showed it to the rector, whom he met, and what the 
 rector said is of no consequence, for General Ople listened 
 to no remarks, calling in succession on the Pollingtons, 
 the Goslings, the Baerens', and others, early though it 
 was, and the lords of those houses absent amassing hoards ; 
 and to the ladies everywhere he displayed the sketches he 
 had received, observing, that Wilsonople meant himself; 
 and there he was, he said, pointing at the capped fellow 
 in the sentry-box, done unmistakably. The likeness 
 indeed was remarkable. "She is a woman of genius," he 
 ejaculated, with utter melancholy. Mrs. Baerens, by the 
 aid of a magnifying glass, assisted him to read a line under 
 the sentry-box, that he had taken for a mere trembling 
 dash; it ran, A gentlemanly residence. 
 
 "What eyes she has! " the General exclaimed; "I say it 
 is miraculous what eyes she has at her time of ... I was 
 saying, I should never have known it was writing."
 
 296 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 He sighed heavily. His shuddering sensitiveness to 
 caricature was increased by a certain evident dread of the 
 hand which struck; the knowing that he was absolutely 
 bare to this woman, defenceless, open to exposure in his 
 little whims, foibles, tricks, incompetencies, in what lay 
 in his heart, and the words that would come to his tongue. 
 He felt like a man haunted. 
 
 So deeply did he feel the blow, that people asked how it 
 was that he could be so foolish as to dance about assisting 
 Lady Camper in her efforts to make him ridiculous; he 
 acted the parts of publisher and agent for the fearful cari- 
 caturist. In truth, there was a strangely double reason for 
 his conduct; he danced about for sympathy, he had the 
 intensest craving for sympathy, but more than this, or 
 quite as much, he desired to have the powers of his enemy 
 widely appreciated; in the first place, that he might be 
 excused to himself for wincing under them, and secondly, 
 because an awful admiration of her, that should be deep- 
 ened by a corresponding sentiment around him, helped him 
 to enjoy luxurious recollections of an hour when he was 
 near making her his own — his own, in the holy abstract 
 contemplation of marriage, without realizing their probable 
 relative conditions after the ceremony. 
 
 "I say, that is the very image of her ladyship's hand," 
 he was especially fond of remarking, " I say it is a beauti- 
 ful hand." 
 
 He carried the letter in his pocket-book; and beginning 
 to fancy that she had done her worst, for he could not 
 imagine an inventive malignity capable of pursuing the 
 theme, he spoke of her treatment of him with compassion- 
 ate regret, not badly assumed from being partly sincere. 
 
 Two letters dated in France, the one Dijon, the other 
 Fontainebleau, arrived together; and as the General knew 
 Lady Camper to be returning to England, he expected that 
 she was anxious to excuse herself to him. His fingers were 
 not so confident, for he tore one of the letters to open it. 
 
 The City of Wilsonople was recognizable immediately. 
 So likewise was the sole inhabitant. 
 
 General Ople's petty bitter laugh recurred, like a weak- 
 chested patient's cough in the shifting of our winds 
 eastward.
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 297 
 
 A faceless woman's shadow kneels on the ground near 
 the sentry-box, weeping. A faceless shadow of a young 
 man on horseback is beheld galloping toward a gulf. The 
 sole inhabitant contemplates his largely substantial full 
 fleshed face and figure in a glass. 
 
 Next, we see the standard of Great Britain furled ; next, 
 unfurled and borne by a troop of shadows to the sentry- 
 box. The officer within says, "I say I should be very 
 happy to carry it, but I cannot quit this gentlemanly 
 residence." 
 
 Next, the standard is shown assailed by popguns. 
 Several of the shadows are prostrate. "I was saying, I 
 assure you that nothing but this gentlemanly residence 
 prevents me from heading you," says the gallant officer. 
 
 General Ople trembled with protestant indignation when 
 he saw himself reclining in a magnified sentry-box, while 
 detachments of shadows hurry to him to show him the 
 standard of his country trailing in the dust; and he is 
 maliciously made to say, "I dislike responsibility. I say 
 I am a fervent patriot, and very fond of my comforts, but 
 I shun responsibility." 
 
 The second letter contained scenes between Wilsonople 
 and the Moon. 
 
 He addresses her as his neighbour, and tells her of his 
 triumphs over the sex. 
 
 He requests her to inform him whether she is a " female, " 
 that she may be triumphed over. 
 
 He hastens past her window on foot, with his head bent, 
 just as the General had been in the habit of walking. 
 
 He drives a mouse-pony furiously by. 
 
 He cuts down a tree, that she may peep through. 
 
 Then, from the Moon's point of view, Wilsonople, a 
 Silenus, is discerned in an arm-chair winking at a couple 
 too plainly pouting their lips for a doubt of their inten- 
 tions to be entertained. 
 
 A fourth letter arrived, bearing date of Paris. This one 
 illustrated Wilsonople's courtship of the Moon, and ended 
 with his "saying," in his peculiar manner, " In spite of her 
 paint I could not have conceived her age to be so enormous." 
 
 How break off his engagement with the Lady Moon ? 
 Consent to none of her terms!
 
 298 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 Little used as he was to read behind a veil, acuteness o$ 
 suffering sharpened the General's intelligence to a degree 
 that sustained him in animated dialogue with each suc- 
 ceeding sketch, or poisoned arrow whirring at him from 
 the moment his eyes rested on it; and here are a few 
 samples : — 
 
 " Wilsonople informs the Moon that she is ' sweetly 
 pretty.' 
 
 He thanks her with ' thanks ' for a handsome piece of 
 lunar green cheese. 
 
 He points to her, apparently telling some one, ' my lady- 
 friend. ' 
 
 He sneezes ' Bijou! bijou! bijou! ' " 
 
 They were trifles, but they attacked his habits of speech; 
 and he began to grow more and more alarmingly absurd in 
 each fresh caricature of his person. 
 
 He looked at himself as the malicious woman's hand had 
 shaped him. It was unjust; it was no resemblance — and 
 yet it was ! There was a corner of likeness left that leav- 
 ened the lump; henceforth he must walk abroad with this 
 distressing image of himself before his eyes, instead of the 
 satisfactory reflex of the man who had, and was happy 
 in thinking that he had, done mischief in his time. Such 
 an end for a conquering man was too pathetic. 
 
 The General surprised himself talking to himself in 
 something louder than a hum at neighbours' dinner-tables. 
 He looked about and noticed that people were silently 
 watching him. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Lady Camper's return was the subject of speculation in 
 the neighbourhood, for most people thought she would 
 cease to persecute the General with her preposterous and 
 unwarrantable pen-and-ink sketches when living so closely 
 proximate; and how he would behave was the question. 
 Those who made a hero of him were sure he would treat 
 her with disdain. Others were uncertain. He had been
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 299 
 
 so severely hit that it seemed possible he would not show 
 much spirit. 
 
 He, for his part, had come to entertain such dread of 
 the post, that Lady Camper's return relieved him of his 
 morning apprehensions; and he would have forgiven her, 
 though he feared to see her, if only she had promised to 
 leave him in peace for the future. He feared to see her, 
 because of the too probable furnishing of fresh matter for 
 her ladyship's hand. Of course he could not avoid being 
 seen by her, and that was a particular misery. A gentle- 
 manly humility, or demureness of aspect, when seen, 
 would, he hoped, disarm his enemy. It should, he thought. 
 He had borne unheard-of things. No one of his friends 
 and acquaintances knew, they could not know, what he 
 had endured. It had caused him fits of stammering. It 
 had destroyed the composure of his gait. Elizabeth had 
 informed him that he talked to himself incessantly, and 
 aloud. She, poor child, looked pale too. She was evidently 
 anxious about him. 
 
 Young E-olles, whom he had met now and then, persisted 
 in praising his aunt's good heart. So, perhaps, having 
 satiated her revenge, she might now be inclined for peace, 
 on the terms of distant civility. 
 
 "Yes! poor Elizabeth!" sighed the General, in pity of 
 the poor girl's disappointment; "poor Elizabeth! she little 
 guesses what her father has gone through. Poor child! 
 I say, she has n't an idea of my sufferings." 
 
 General Ople delivered his card at Lady Camper's lodge 
 gates, and escaped to his residence in a state of prickly 
 heat that required the brushing of his hair with hard 
 brushes for several minutes to comfort and re-establish 
 him. 
 
 He had fallen to working in his garden, when Lady 
 Camper's card was brought to him an hour after the 
 delivery of his own; a pleasing promptitude, showing signs 
 of repentance, and suggesting to the General instantly 
 some sharp sarcasms upon women, which he had come 
 upon in quotations in the papers and the pulpit, his two 
 main sources of information. 
 
 Instead of handing back the card to the maid, he stuck 
 it in his hat and went on digging.
 
 300 THE CASE OF GENEEAL OPLE 
 
 The first of a series of letters containing shameless real- 
 istic caricatures was handed to him the afternoon follow- 
 ing. They came fast and thick. Not a day's interval of 
 grace was allowed. Niobe under the shafts of Diana was 
 hardly less violently and mortally assailed. The deadli- 
 ness of the attack lay in the ridicule of the daily habits of 
 one of the most sensitive of men, as to his personal appear- 
 ance, and the opinion of the world. He might have con- 
 cealed the sketches, but he could not have concealed the 
 bruises, and people were perpetually asking the unhappy 
 General what he was saying, for he spoke to himself as if 
 he were repeating something to them for the tenth time. 
 
 "I say," said he, " I say that for a lady, really an edu- 
 cated lady, to sit, as she must — I was saying, she must 
 have sat in an attic to have the right view of me. And 
 there you see — this is what she has done. This is the 
 last, this is the afternoon's delivery. Her ladyship has 
 me correctly as to costume, but I could not exhibit such a 
 sketch to ladies." 
 
 A back view of the General was displayed in his act of 
 digging. 
 
 "I say I could not allow ladies to see it," he informed 
 the gentlemen, who were suffered to inspect it freely. 
 
 " But you see, I have no means of escape ; I am at her 
 mercy from morning to night," the General said, with a 
 quivering tongue, " unless I stay at home inside the house ; 
 and that is death to me, or unless I abandon the place, 
 and my lease ; and I shall — I say, I shall find nowhere in 
 England for anything like the money or conveniences such 
 a gent — a residence you would call fit for a gentleman. I 
 call it a bi ... it is, in short, a gem. But I shall have 
 to go." 
 
 Young Kolles offered to expostulate with his aunt 
 Angela. 
 
 The General said, "Tha ... I thank you very much. 
 I would not have her ladyship suppose I am so susceptible. 
 I hardly know," he confessed pitiably, "what it is right 
 to say, and what not — what not. I — I — I never know 
 when I am not looking a fool. I hurry from tree to tree 
 to shun the light. I am seriously affected in my appetite. 
 I say, I shall have to go."
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 301 
 
 Reginald gave him to understand that if he flew, the 
 shafts would follow him, for Lady Camper would never 
 forgive his running away, and was quite equal to publish- 
 ing a book of the adventures of Wilsonople. 
 
 Sunday afternoon, walking in the park with his daugh- 
 ter on his arm, General Ople met Mr. Rolles. He saw that 
 the young man and Elizabeth were mortally pale, and as 
 the very idea of wretchedness directed his attention to 
 himself, he addressed them conjointly on the subject of 
 his persecution, giving neither of them a chance of speak- 
 ing until they were constrained to part. 
 
 A sketch was the consequence, in which a withered 
 Cupid and a fading Psyche were seen divided by Wilson- 
 ople, who keeps them forcibly asunder with policeman's 
 fists, while courteously and elegantly entreating them to 
 hear him. "Meet," he tells them, "as often as you like, 
 in my company, so long as you listen to me ; " and the 
 pathos of his aspect makes hungry demand for a sympa- 
 thetic audience. 
 
 Now, this, and not the series representing the martyr- 
 dom of the old couple at Douro Lodge Gates, whose rigid 
 frames bore witness to the close packing of a gentlemanly 
 ^residence, this was the sketch General Ople, in his mad- 
 ness from the pursuing bite of the gadfly, handed about at 
 Mrs. Pollington's lawn-party. Some have said, that he 
 should not have betrayed his daughter ; but it is reasonable 
 to suppose he had no idea of his daughter's being the 
 Psyche. Or if he had, it was indistinct, owing to the vio- 
 lence of his personal emotion. Assuming this to have 
 been the very sketch ; he handed it to two or three ladies 
 in turn, and was heard to deliver himself at intervals in 
 the following snatches : "As you like, my lady, as you like; 
 strike, I say strike; I bear it; I say I bear it. . . . If her 
 ladyship is unforgiving, I say I am enduring. ... I may 
 go, I was saying I may go mad, but while I have my 
 reason I walk upright, I walk upright." 
 
 Mr. Pollington and certain City gentlemen hearing the 
 poor General's renewed soliloquies, were seized with dis- 
 gust of Lady Camper's conduct, and stoutly advised an 
 application to the Law Courts. 
 
 He gave ear to them abstractedly, but after pulling out
 
 302 THE CASE OF GENEEAL OPLB 
 
 the whole chapter of the caricatures (which it seemed that 
 he kept in a case of morocco leather in his breast-pocket), 
 showing them, with comments on them, and observing, 
 " There will be more, there must be more, I say I am sure 
 there are things I do that her ladyship will discover and 
 expose," he declined to seek redress or simple protection; 
 and the miserable spectacle was exhibited soon after of this 
 courtly man listening to Mrs. Barcop on the weather, and 
 replying in acquiescence : " It is hot. — If your ladyship 
 will only abstain from colours. Very hot as you say, 
 madam, — I do not complain of pen and ink, but I would 
 rather escape colours. And I dare say you find it hot 
 too ? " 
 
 Mrs. Barcop shut her eyes and sighed over the wreck of 
 a handsome military officer. 
 
 She asked him : " What is your objection to colours ? " 
 
 His hand was at his breast-pocket immediately, as he 
 said: "Have you not seen ?" — though but a few minutes 
 back he had shown her the contents of the packet, includ- 
 ing a hurried glance of the famous digging scene. 
 
 By this time the entire district was in fervid sympathy 
 with General Ople. The ladies did not, as their lords did, 
 proclaim astonishment that a man should suffer a woman 
 to goad him to a state of semi-lunacy; but one or two con- 
 fessed to their husbands, that it required a great admira- 
 tion of General Ople not to despise him, both for his 
 susceptibility and his patience. As for the men, they knew 
 him to have faced the balls in bellowing battle-strife; 
 they knew him to have endured privation, not only cold 
 but downright want of food and drink — an almost unimag- 
 inable horror, to these brave daily f easters ; so they could 
 not quite look on him in contempt; but his want of sense 
 was offensive, and still more so his submission to a scourg- 
 ing by a woman. Not one of them would have deigned to 
 feel it. Would they have allowed her to see that she could 
 sting them ? They would have laughed at her. Or they 
 would have dragged her before a magistrate. 
 
 It was a Sunday in early Summer when General Ople 
 walked to morning service, unaccompanied by Elizabeth, 
 who was unwell. The church was of the considerate old- 
 fashioned order, with deaf square pews, permitting the
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 303 
 
 mind to abstract itself from the sermon, or wrestle at 
 leisure with the difficulties presented by the preacher, as 
 General Ople often did, feeling not a little in love with his 
 sincere attentiveness for grappling with the knotty point 
 and partially allowing the struggle to be seen. 
 
 The Church was, besides, a sanctuary for him. Hither 
 his enemy did not come. He had this one place of refuge, 
 and he almost looked a happy man again. 
 
 He had passed into his hat and out of it, which he 
 habitually did standing, when who should walk up to 
 within a couple of yards of him but Lady Camper. Her 
 pew was full of poor people, who made signs of retiring. 
 She signified to them that they were to sit, then quietly 
 took her seat among them, fronting the General across 
 the aisle. 
 
 During the sermon a low voice, sharp in contradistinc- 
 tion to the monotone of the preacher's, was heard to repeat 
 these words: "I say I am not sure I shall survive it." 
 Considerable muttering in the same quarter was heard 
 besides. 
 
 After the customary ceremonious game, when all were 
 free to move, of nobody liking to move first, Lady Camper 
 and a charity boy were the persons who took the lead. 
 But Lady Camper could not quit her pew, owing to the 
 sticking of the door. She smiled as with her pretty hand 
 she twice or thrice essayed to shake it open. General 
 Ople strode to her aid. He pulled the door, gave the 
 shadow of a respectful bow, and no doubt he would have 
 withdrawn, had not Lady Camper, while acknowledging 
 the civility, placed her Prayer-book in his hands to carry at 
 her heels. There was no choice for him. He made a sort 
 of slipping dance back for his hat, and followed her lady- 
 ship. All present being eager to witness the spectacle, the 
 passage of Lady Camper dragging the victim General be- 
 hind her was observed without a stir of the well-dressed 
 members of the congregation, until a desire overcame them 
 to see how Lady Camper would behave to her fish when 
 she had him outside the sacred edifice. 
 
 None could have imagined such a scene. Lady Camper 
 was in her carriage; General Ople was holding her 
 Prayer-book, hat in hand at the carriage step, and he
 
 304 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLB 
 
 looked as if he were toasting before the bars of a furnace; 
 for while he stood there, Lady Camper was rapidly pencil- 
 ling outlines in a small pocket sketch-book. There are 
 dogs whose shyness is put to it to endure human observa- 
 tion and a direct address to them, even on the part of their 
 masters; and these dear simple dogs wag tail and turn 
 their heads aside waveringly, as though to entreat you not 
 to eye them and talk to them so. General Ople, in the 
 presence of the sketch-book, was much like the nervous 
 animal. He would fain have run away. He glanced at 
 it, and round about, and again at it, and at the heavens. 
 Her ladyship's cruelty, and his inexplicable submission to 
 it, were witnessed of the multitude. 
 
 The General's friends walked very slowly. Lady Cam- 
 per's carriage whirled by, and the General came up with 
 them, accosting them and himself alternately. They 
 asked him where Elizabeth was, and he replied, "Poor 
 child, yes ! I am told she is pale, but I cannot believe I 
 am so perfectly, I say so perfectly ridiculous when I join 
 the responses." He drew forth half a dozen sheets, and 
 showed them sketches that Lady Camper had taken in 
 church, caricaturing him in the sitting down and the stand- 
 ing up. She had torn them out of the book, and presented 
 them to him when driving off. " I was saying, worship in 
 the ordinary sense will be interdicted to me if her lady- 
 ship . . .," said the General, woefully shuffling the sketch- 
 paper sheets in which he figured. 
 
 He made the following odd confession to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Gosling on the road : — that he had gone to his chest, and 
 taken out his sword-belt to measure his girth, and found 
 himself thinner than when he left the service, which had 
 not been the case before his attendance at the last levee of 
 the foregoing season. So the deduction was obvious, that 
 Lady Camper had reduced him. She had reduced him as 
 effectually as a harassing siege. 
 
 "But why do you pay attention to her? Why! . . ," 
 exclaimed Mr. Gosling, a gentleman of the City, whose 
 roundness would have turned a rifle-shot. 
 
 "To allow her to wound you so seriously! " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Gosling. 
 
 "Madam, if she were my wife," the General explained,
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 305 
 
 "I should feel it. I say it is the fact of it; I feel it, if I 
 appear so extremely ridiculous to a human eye, to any one 
 eye." 
 
 " To Lady Camper's eye ! " 
 
 He admitted it might be that. He had not thought 
 of ascribing the acuteness of his pain to the miserable 
 image he presented in this particular lady's eye. No; it 
 really was true, curiously true : another lady's eye might 
 have transformed him to a pumpkin shape, exaggerated 
 all his foibles fifty-fold, and he, though not liking it, of 
 course not, would yet have preserved a certain manly 
 equanimity. How was it Lady Camper had such power 
 over him ? — a lady concealing seventy years with a rouge- 
 box or paint-pot! It was witchcraft in its worst character. 
 He had for six months at her bidding been actually living 
 the life of a beast, degraded in his own esteem; scorched 
 by every laugh he heard; running, pursued, overtaken, 
 and as it were scored or branded, and then let go for the 
 process to be repeated. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Our young barbarians have it all their own way with us 
 when they fall into love-liking; they lead us whither they 
 please, and interest us in their wishings, their weepings, 
 and that fine performance, their kissings. But when we 
 see our veterans tottering to their fall, we scarcely consent 
 to ? e dhtj having a wish ; as for a kiss, we halloo at them 
 if we discover them on a byway to the sacred grove where 
 such things are supposed to be done by the venerable. 
 And this piece of rank injustice, not to say impoliteness, 
 is entirely because of an unsound opinion that Nature is 
 not in it, as though it were our esteem for Nature which 
 caused us to disrespect them. They, in truth, show her 
 to us discreet, civilized, in a decent moral aspect: vistas 
 of real life, views of the mind's eye, are opened by their' 
 touching little emotions; whereas those bully youngsters 
 who come bellowing at us and catch us by the senses 
 
 SO
 
 306 THE CASE OP GENERAL OPLE 
 
 plainly prove either that we are no better than they, or 
 that we give our attention to Nature only when she makes 
 us afraid of her. If we cared for her, we should be up 
 and after her reverentially in her sedater steps, deejay 
 studying her in her slower paces. She teaches them 
 nothing when they are whirling. Our closest instructors, 
 the true philosophers — the story-tellers, in short — will 
 learn in time that Nature is not of necessity always roar- 
 ing, and as soon as they do, the world may be said to be 
 enlightened. Meantime, in the contemplation of a pair of 
 white whiskers fluttering round a pair of manifestly 
 painted cheeks, be assured that Nature is in it: not that 
 hectoring wanton — but let the young have their fun. Let 
 the superior interest of the passions of the aged be con- 
 ceded, and not a word shall be said against the young. 
 
 If, then, Nature is in it, how has she been made active ? 
 The reason of her launch upon this last adventure is, that 
 she has perceived the person who can supply the virtue 
 known to her by experience to be wanting. Thus, in the 
 broader instance, many who have journeyed far down the 
 road, turn back to the worship of youth, which they have 
 lost. Some are for the graceful worldliness of wit, of 
 which they have just share enough to admire it. Some 
 are captivated by hands that can wield the rod, which in 
 earlier days they escaped to their cost. In the case o\ 
 General Ople, it was partly her whippings of him, partly 
 her penetration; her ability, that sat so finely on a 
 wealthy woman, her indifference to conventional manners, 
 that so well beseemed a nobly-born one, and more than all, 
 her correction of his little weaknesses and incompetencies, 
 in spite of his dislike of it, won him. He began to ib-1 a 
 sort of nibbling pleasure in her grotesque sketches of his 
 person; a tendency to recur to the old ones while dreading 
 the arrival of new. You hear old gentlemen speak fondly 
 of the swish; and they are not attached to pain, but the 
 instrument revives their feeling of youth; and General 
 Ople half enjoyed, while shrinking, Lady Camper's fore- 
 gone outlines of him. For in the distance, the whip's-end 
 may look like a clinging caress instead of a stinging flick. 
 But this craven melting in his heart was rebuked by a very 
 worthy pride, that flew for support to the injury she had
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 307 
 
 done to liis devotions, and the offence to the sacred edifice. 
 After thinking over it, he decided that he must quit his 
 residence; and as it appeared to him in the light of duty, 
 he, with an unspoken anguish, commissioned the house- 
 agent of his town to sell his lease or let the house fur- 
 nished, without further parley. 
 
 From the house-agent's shop he turned into the chem- 
 ist's, for a tonic — a foolish proceeding, for he had received 
 bracing enough in the blow he had just dealt himself, but 
 he had been cogitating on tonics recently, imagining cer- 
 tain valiant effects of them, with visions of a former care- 
 less happiness that they were likely to restore. So he re- 
 quested to have the tonic strong, and he took one glass of 
 it over the counter. 
 
 Fifteen minutes after the draught, he came in sight of 
 his house, and beholding it, he could have called it a gen- 
 tlemanly residence aloud under Lady Camper's windows, 
 his insurgency was of such violence. He talked of it 
 incessantly, but forbore to tell Elizabeth, as she was 
 looking pale, the reason why its modest merits touched 
 him so. He longed for the hour of his next dose, and for 
 a caricature to follow, that he might drink and defy it. 
 A caricature was really due to him, he thought; otherwise 
 why had he abandoned his bijou dwelling ? Lady Camper, 
 however, sent none. He had to wait a fortnight before 
 one came, and that was rather a likeness, and a handsome 
 likeness, except as regarded a certain disorderliness in 
 his dress, which he knew to be very unlike him. Still it 
 despatched him to the looking-glass, to bring that verifier 
 of facts in evidence against the sketch. While sitting 
 there he heard the housemaid's knock at the door, and the 
 strange intelligence that his daughter was with Lady 
 Camper, and had left word that she hoped he would not 
 forget his engagement to go to Mrs. Baerens' lawn-party. 
 
 The General jumped away from the glass, shouting at 
 the absent Elizabeth in a fit of wrath so foreign to him, 
 that he returned hurriedly to have another look at himself, 
 and exclaimed at the pitch of his voice, " I say I attribute 
 it to an indigestion of that tonic. Do you hear?" The 
 housemaid faintly answered outside the door that she did, 
 alarming him, for there seemed to be confusion some*
 
 308 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 where. His hope was that no one would mention Lady 
 Camper's name, for the mere thought of her caused a rush 
 to his head. "I believe I am in for a touch of apoplexy," 
 he said to the rector, who greeted him, in advance of the 
 ladies, on Mr. Baerens' lawn. He said it smilingly, but 
 wanting some show of sympathy, instead of the whisper 
 and meaningless hand at his clerical band, with which the 
 rector responded, he cried, "Apoplexy," and his friend 
 seemed then to understand, and disappeared among the 
 ladies. 
 
 Several of them surrounded the General, and one in- 
 quired whether the series was being continued. He drew 
 forth his pocket-book, handed her the latest, and remarked 
 on the gross injustice of it; for, as he requested them to 
 take note, her ladyship now sketched him as a person 
 inattentive to his dress, and he begged them to observe 
 that she had drawn him with his necktie hanging loose. 
 " And that, I say that has never been known of me since 
 I first entered society." 
 
 The ladies exchanged looks of profound concern ; for the 
 fact was, the General had come without any necktie and 
 any collar, and he appeared to be unaware of the circum- 
 stance. The rector had told them, that in answer to a hint 
 he had dropped on the subject of neckties, General Ople 
 expressed a slight apprehension of apoplexy; but his care- 
 less or merely partial observance of the laws of buttonment 
 could have nothing to do with such fears. They signified 
 rather a disorder of the intelligence. Elizabeth was con- 
 demned for leaving him to go about alone. The situation 
 was really most painful, for a word to so sensitive a man 
 would drive him away in shame and for good; and still, to 
 let him parade the ground in the state, compared with his 
 natural self, of scarecrow, and with the dreadful habit of 
 talking to himself quite raging, was a horrible alternative. 
 Mrs. Baerens at last directed her husband upon the Gen- 
 eral, trembling as though she watched for the operations of 
 a fish torpedo; and other ladies shared her excessive anx- 
 iousness, for Mr. Baerens had the manner and the look 
 of artillery, and on this occasion carried a surcharge of 
 powder. 
 
 The General bent his ear to Mr. Baerens, whose German-
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 309 
 
 English and repeated remark, "I am to do it wid deli- 
 cassy," did not assist his comprehension; and when lie 
 might have been enlightened, he was petrified by seeing 
 Lady Camper walk on the lawn with Elizabeth. The great 
 lady stood a moment beside Mrs. Baerens; she came 
 straight over to him, contemplating him in silence. 
 
 Then she said, "Your arm, General Ople," and she 
 made one circuit of the lawn with him, barely speaking. 
 
 At her request, he conducted her to her carriage. He 
 took a seat beside her, obediently. He felt that he was 
 being sketched, and comported himself like a child's fiat 
 man, that jumps at the pulling of a string. 
 
 " Where have you left your girl, General ? " 
 
 Before he could rally his wits to answer the question, 
 he was asked: 
 
 "And what have you done with your necktie and 
 collar ? " 
 
 He touched his throat. 
 
 "I am rather nervous to-day, I forgot Elizabeth," he 
 said, sending his fingers in a dotting run of wonderment 
 round his neck. 
 
 Lady Camper smiled with a triumphing humour on her 
 close-drawn lips. 
 
 The verified absence of necktie and collar seemed to be 
 choking him. 
 
 "Never mind, you have been abroad without them," said 
 Lady Camper, "and that is a victory for me. And you 
 thought of Elizabeth first when I drew your attention to it, 
 and that is a victory for you. It is a very great victory. 
 Pray, do not be dismayed, General. You have a handsome 
 campaigning air. And no apologies, if you please; I like 
 you well enough as you are. There is my hand." 
 
 General Ople understood her last remark. He pressed 
 the lady's hand in silence, very nervously. 
 
 "But do not shrug your head into your shoulders as if 
 there were any possibility of concealing the thunderingly 
 evident," said Lady Camper, electrifying him, what with 
 her cordial squeeze, her kind eyes, and her singular lan- 
 guage. "You have omitted the collar. Well? The 
 collar is the fatal finishing touch in men's dress; it would 
 make Apollo look bourgeois."
 
 310 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 Her hand was in his : and watching the play of her fea- 
 tures, a spark entered General Ople's brain, causing him, 
 in forgetfulness of collar and caricatures, to ejaculate, 
 " Seventy ? Did your ladyship say seventy ? Utterly 
 impossible! You trifled with me." 
 
 " We will talk when we are free of this accompaniment 
 of carriage-wheels, General," said Lady Camper. 
 
 "I will beg permission to go and fetch Elizabeth, 
 madam." 
 
 "Kightly thought of. Fetch her in my carriage. And, 
 by the way, Mrs. Baerens was my old music-mistress, and 
 is, I think, one year older than I. She can tell you on 
 which side of seventy I am." 
 
 "I shall not require to ask, my lady," he said, sighing. 
 
 "Then we will send the carriage for Elizabeth, and have 
 it out together at once. I am impatient; yes, General, 
 impatient: for what? — forgiveness." 
 
 "Of me, my lady ? " The General breathed profoundly. 
 
 "Of whom else? Do you know what it is? — I don't 
 think you do. You English have the smallest experience 
 of humanity. I mean this : to strike so hard that, in the 
 end, you soften your heart to the victim. Well, that is 
 my weakness. And we of our blood put no restraint on 
 the blows we strike when we think them wanted, so we 
 are always overdoing it." 
 
 General Ople assisted Lady Camper to alight from the 
 carriage, which was forthwith despatched for Elizabeth. 
 
 He prepared to listen to her with a disconnected smile 
 of acute attentiveness. 
 
 She had changed. She spoke of money. Ten thousand 
 pounds must be settled on his daughter. "And now," 
 said she, "you will remember that you are wanting a 
 collar." 
 
 He acquiesced. He craved permission to retire for ten 
 minutes. 
 
 " Simplest of men ! what will cover you ? " she exclaimed, 
 and peremptorily bidding him sit down in the drawing- 
 room, she took one of the famous pair of pistols in her 
 hand, and said, "If I put myself in a similar position, and 
 make myself decolletee too, will that satisfy you ? You see 
 these murderous weapons. Well, I am a coward. I dread
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 311 
 
 fire-arms. They are laid there to impose on the world, 
 and I believe they do. They have imposed on you. 
 Now, you would never think of pretending to a moral 
 quality you do not possess. But, silly, simple man that 
 you are! You can give yourself the airs of wealth, buy 
 horses to conceal your nakedness, and when you are taken 
 upon the standard of your apparent income, you would 
 rather seem to be beating a miserly retreat than behave 
 frankly and honestly. I have a little overstated it, but 
 I am near the mark." 
 
 " Your ladyship wanting courage ! " cried the General. 
 
 " Refresh yourself by meditating on it," said she. " And 
 to prove it to you, I was glad to take this house when I 
 knew I was to have a gallant gentleman for a neighbour. 
 No visitors will be admitted, General Ople, so you are bare- 
 throated only to me : sit quietly. One day you speculated 
 on the paint in my cheeks for the space of a minute and a 
 half: — I had said that I freckled easily. Your look sig- 
 nified that you really could not detect a single freckle for 
 the paint. I forgave you, or I did not. But when I found 
 you, on closer acquaintance, as indifferent to your daugh- 
 ter's happiness as you had been to her reputation ..." 
 
 "My daughter! her reputation! her happiness!" Gen- 
 eral Ople raised his eyes under a wave, half uttering the 
 outcries. 
 
 "So indifferent to her reputation, that you allowed a 
 young man to talk with her over the wall, and meet her 
 by appointment: so reckless of the girl's happiness, that 
 when I tried to bring you to a treaty, on her behalf, you 
 could not be dragged from thinking of yourself and your 
 own affair. When I found that, perhaps I was predis- 
 posed to give you some of what my sisters used to call my 
 spice. You would not honestly state the proportions of 
 your income, and you affected to be faithful to the woman 
 of seventy. Most preposterous ! Could any caricature of 
 mine exceed in grotesqueness your sketch of yourself ? 
 You are a brave and a generous man all the same : and I 
 suspect it is more hoodwinking than egotism — or extreme 
 egotism — that blinds you. A certain amount you must 
 have to be a man. You did not like my paint, still less 
 did you like my sincerity; you were annoyed by my cor-
 
 312 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 rections of your habits of speech ; you were horrified by the 
 age of seventy, and you were credulous — General Ople, 
 listen to me, and remember that you have no collar on! 
 — you were credulous of my statement of my great age, or 
 you chose to be so, or chose to seem so, because I had 
 brushed your cat's coat against the fur. And then, full of 
 yourself, not thinking of Elizabeth, but to withdraw in 
 the chivalrous attitude of the man true to his word to the 
 old woman, only stickling to bring a certain independence 
 to the common stock, because — I quote you ! and you have 
 no collar on, mind — ' you could not be at your wife's mercy, ' 
 you broke from your proposal on the money question. 
 Where was your consideration for Elizabeth then ? 
 
 "Well, General, you were fond of thinking of yourself, 
 and I thought I would assist you. I gave you plenty of 
 subject matter. I will not say I meant to work a homoeo- 
 pathic cure. But if I drive you to forget your collar, is it 
 or is it not a triumph ? 
 
 "No," added Lady Camper, "it is no triumph for me, 
 but it is one for you, if you like to make the most of it. 
 Your fault has been to quit active service, General, and 
 love your ease too well. It is the fault of your country- 
 men. You must get a militia regiment, or inspectorship 
 of militia. You are ten times the man in exercise. Why, 
 do you mean to tell me that you would have cared for 
 those drawings of mine when marching?" 
 
 "I think so, I say I think so," remarked the General 
 seriously. 
 
 "I doubt it," said she. "But to the point; here comes 
 Elizabeth. If you have not much money to spare for her, 
 according to your prudent calculation, reflect how this 
 money has enfeebled you and reduced you to the level of 
 the people round about us here — who are, what ? Inhab- 
 itants of gentlemanly residences, yes ! But what kind of 
 creature ? They have no mental standard, no moral aim, 
 no native chivalry. You were rapidly becoming one of 
 them, only, fortunately for you, you were sensitive to 
 ridicule." 
 
 "Elizabeth shall have half my money settled on her," 
 said the General ; " though I fear it is not much. And if 
 I can find occupation, my lady ..."
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 313 
 
 "Something worthier than that," said Lady Camper, 
 pencilling outlines rapidly on the margin of a book, and 
 he saw himself lashing a pony; "or that," and he was 
 ] ducking at a cabbage; "or that" and he was bowing to 
 three petticoated posts. 
 
 "The likeness is exact," General Ople groaned. 
 
 "So you may suppose I have studied you," said she. 
 "But there is no real likeness. Slight exaggerations do 
 more harm to truth than reckless violations of it. You 
 would not have cared one bit for a caricature, if you had 
 not nursed the absurd idea of being one of our conquerors. 
 It is the very tragedy of modesty for a man like you to 
 have such notions, my poor dear good friend. The modest 
 are the most easily intoxicated when they sip at vanity. 
 And reflect whether you have not been intoxicated, for 
 these young people have been wretched, and you have not 
 observed it, though one of them was living with you, and 
 is the child you love. There, I have done. Pray show a 
 good face to Elizabeth." 
 
 The General obeyed as well as he could. He felt very 
 like a sheep that has come from a shearing, and when 
 released he wished to run away. But hardly had he 
 escaped before he had a desire for the renewal of the opera- 
 tion. "She sees me through, she sees me through," he 
 was heard saying to himself, and in the end he taught 
 himself to say it with a secret exultation, for as it was 
 on her part an extraordinary piece of insight to see him 
 through, it struck him that in acknowledging the truth of 
 it, he made a discovery of new pow r ers in human nature. 
 
 General Ople studied Lady Camper diligently for fresh 
 proofs of her penetration of the mysteries in his bosom ; 
 by which means, as it happened that she was diligently 
 observing the two betrothed young ones, he began to watch 
 them likewise, and took a pleasure in the sight. Their 
 meetings, their partings, their rides out and home fur- 
 nished him themes of converse. He soon had enough to 
 talk of, and previously, as he remembered, he had never 
 sustained a conversation of any length with composure 
 and the beneficent sense of fulness. Five thousand pounds, 
 to which sum Lady Camper reduced her stipulation for 
 Elizabeth's dowry, he signed over to his dear girl gladly,
 
 314 THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE 
 
 and came out with the confession to her ladyship that a 
 well-invested twelve thousand comprised his fortune. She 
 shrugged: she had left off pulling him this way and that, 
 so his chains were enjoyable, and he said to himself: "If 
 ever she should in the dead of night want a man to defend 
 her!" He mentioned it to Eeginald, who had been the 
 repository of Elizabeth's lamentations about her father 
 being left alone, forsaken, and the young man conceived a 
 scheme for causing his aunt's great bell to be rung at mid- 
 night, which would certainly have led to a dramatic issue 
 and the happy re-establishment of our masculine ascend- 
 ancy at the close of this history. But he forgot it in his 
 bridegroom's delight, until he was making his miserable 
 official speech at the wedding-breakfast, and set Elizabeth 
 winking over a tear. As she stood in the hall ready to 
 depart, a great van was observed in the road at the gates 
 of Douro Lodge ; and this, the men in custody declared to 
 contain the goods and knick-knacks of the people who had 
 taken the house furnished for a year, and were coming in 
 that very afternoon. 
 
 "I remember, I say now I remember, I had a notice," 
 the General said cheerily to his troubled daughter. 
 
 " But where are you to go, papa ? " the poor girl cried, 
 close on sobbing. 
 
 " I shall get employment of some sort," said he. "I was 
 saying I want it, I need it, I require it." 
 
 'You are saying three times what once would have 
 sufficed for," said Lady Camper, and she asked him a few 
 questions, frowned with a smile, and offered him a lodge- 
 ment in his neighbour's house. 
 
 " Really, dearest Aunt Angela ? " said Elizabeth. 
 
 "What else can I do, child? I have, it seems, driven 
 him out of a gentlemanly residence, and I must give him 
 a ladylike one. True, I would rather have had him at 
 call, but as I have always wished for a policeman in the 
 house, I may as well be satisfied with a soldier." 
 
 "But if you lose your character, my lady?" said 
 Reginald. 
 
 "Then I must look to the General to restore it." 
 
 General Ople immediately bowed his head over Lady 
 Camper's fingers.
 
 AND LADY CAMPER 315 
 
 "An odd thing to happen to a woman of forty-one! " she 
 said to her great people, and they submitted with the best 
 grace in the world, while the General's ears tingled till he 
 felt younger than Reginald. This, his reflections ran, or 
 it would be more correct to say waltzed, this is the result 
 of painting! — that you can believe a woman to be any age 
 when her cheeks are tinted ! 
 
 As for Lady Camper, she had been floated accidentally 
 over the ridicule of the bruit of a marriage at a time of life 
 as terrible to her as her fiction of seventy had been to 
 General Ople ; she resigned herself to let things go with 
 the tide. She had not been blissful in her first marriage, 
 she had abandoned the chase of an ideal man, and she had 
 found one who was tuneable so as not to offend her ears, 
 likely ever to be a fund of amusement for her humour, 
 good, impressible, and above all, very picturesque. There 
 is the secret of her, and of how it came to pass that a simple 
 man and a complex woman fell to union after the strangest 
 division.
 
 / 
 
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