>%. #* * LEISURE HOUR SERIES SKIRMISHING BY MRS.C.JENiaN Henry HoLT& Co. PuBLi SHE New York Pre sen Date r F)-um an At THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES GIFT OF The California ^tate Library ', pasted Seciion books issui Legislatur( If any per he shall fo three lime; warrant in Slate, for 1 ied that such member or oiTicernasrcturnea an oooKstaKen oui oi me i.iDrary by him, and has settled all accounts for injuring such books or otherwise. Sec. 15. Hooks may be taken from the Lil)rary by the mcmbersof the Legislature and its ofFicers during the session of the same, and at any lime by the Clovernor and the ofiiccrs of the Kxecutivc Department of this State who are required to keep their offices at the seat of government, the Justices of the Supreme Court, the Attorney-Lleneral and the Trustees j of the Library. Bfi^ JUST PUBLISHED: BUZZ A BUZZ; or, THE BEES. From the German of WiiHELM Buscii (Author of "Max and Maurice")- By Hezkkiah Watkins. With colorcil illustrations. 8vo, cloth, gilt back, ink and gold side stump. $1.50. "The book is one «( the best recipe* 'to laugh and grow fat' over that wo have seen for many a diiy." — Eveninij Mail. STRAUSS' THE OLD FAITH AND THE NEW. A Confession. By David Fuieduich Strauss. Authorized translation from the sixth edition. By Mathilde Blind. American edition. Two volumes in one. The translation revised and partly rewTittcn, and preceded by an American version of the author's "Prefatory Postscript." ISmo, §2.00. " I have never desired, nor do I now desire, to disturb tho contentment or the faith of any one. But where these are already shaken, I desire to point out the direction in which a firmer soil is to be found." — pp. *5, 10. ^ "An investigation of some of the most important questions that a candid mind cnn ask of the woricl. ... A boijk whiih we feel sure, both from the nature of the sub- jects treated, tho serious manner of discussion, and the deservedly great reputation cf j||j yie author, will make its mark upon the time, not so much as an attack upon what we |U venerate as an apology for those who honestly differ from tho majority of their [S brothers. — Atlantic Monthli/. ^,j, [j^ RECENT MUSIC AND mSi^ICIANS, as described in i the Diaries and Correspondence of Ignaz Moscheles. Selected by his wife, and [j adapted from the original German by A. D. COLEniDOE. 12mo, cloth, $2.00. »]1 "Not only musical enthusiasts, but every one who has the faintest glimmer of a love [jjj for music and art will welcome with delight this volume. It is a personal history of jijj nmsic for sixty years of this century — full of the names of artists and composcrfi, each nl of them a centre of pleasurable emotions." — Examiner. RU " Full of pleasant gossip. The diary and letters between th^m contain notices and |]| criticisms on almost every musical celebrity of the last half century." — Pall Mall HJ Gatette. Vm HAMMER AND ANVIL. By F. Spieuiagen. Household i Edition. lOmo. Uniform with "Problematic Characters" and "Through Night to {|j Light." $1.50. M "We have no hesit«tion in pronouncing 'Hammer and Anvil' one of the greatest M masterworks of fiction in any language of late years." — Evening Mail. M A TOUR THROUGH THE PYRENEES. By Hippo- LYTE Adolphe Taine, author of "A History of English Literature," "Travels in M Italy," etc." || Having sold before Christmas the entire edition of Taine's Pyrenees, illustrated by M Doro, the publishers will now inunediatcly publigh the text separately. It will be in a M library edition, something like the same author's " Notes on England," and will be sold VjAl at not over a'quarter the jirice of tho illustrated volume. It is remarkable that, in the llj illustrated edition, the work of the author has attracted possibly more attention than tho |f| embellishments of the artist and publishers. This fact indicates a large sale for tho [|jj library edition. U| HEl\/RY HOLT & CO., Publishers, New York. |j February \Uh, 1871. |{| '^ ^M BY THE SAME AUTHOR (Leisure Hour Series) JUPITKR'S DAUGHTERS. WHO liREAKS PAYS. SKIR.MISHINC;. MADAME DE BEAUPR15. A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY. p / LEISURE HOUR SERIES Skirmishing BY Mrs. C. Jrnkin AUTHOR OF "JUPITER'S DAUGHTERS," "WHO BREAKS- PAYS," "A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY," &c., &c. " Never repent of a kind action, however it turns out for yourself." Mrs. Lkscrimiere. NEW YORK HKNRY HOLT AND COMPANY 1874 p/? 1 CONTENTS. CHAP. PAOE. I. — Datur Hora Qaietl, . . ... 5 II. — Swallowing the lieek, . . . .11 m.— Dodge, ........ 18 IV. — Church-going and Hop-picking, . . . .25 ^„^--¥. — No Man or Woman can live longer at Peace than Neigh- bours will let them, . . . . . .46 VI.— The Lost Sheep, ...... 46 VII.— The Pyrola 53 VIII. — Chiaroscuro, ....... 57 IX.— "The Little Rift," 66 X.— One Tale is Good till another's Told, . . . .71 XI. — Woe to the Conquered, . . . . .79 XII — Tu Quoque, ....... 83 XIII— Why? 91 XIV. — Danger Fl;ig, ....... 97 XV. — The Shadow of Love, ...... 104 XVI. — A word Before is worth two After, .... no XVII. — Love's Curse, ....... 116 XVIII.— The two Sides of the Shield, . . . .123 XIX. — One Eye-witness is better than ten He.arsays, . . 128 XX. — 111 news Travels apace, ..... 138 XXI. — The Wound is Great, because it is so Small, . . 146 XXIL— Le Revenant, ....... 154 XXIII.— New Lights, 160 XXIV.—" Scattered Foam, that's her History," . . .165 XXV.— Gone, ........ 173 Tost Scriptum. " Quid Datur a Davis felicit optatina Hora?" . 183 ^1 SK:II^3yLIs:P3:Il^TGl- CHAPTER I. DATUR HORA QUIETI. IT -was the evening of the last Sunday in August; until after Whitsunday of the next year, there would be no more six o'clock services in the largest room of the white house on the top of the common. The curate and the rector's eldest daughter had walked back to the rectory together, over the fields and through the hop gardens; Maud Greatorex had a small bunch of early hops in her hand. Walter Escott, hot and wearied as he was by the duties of the day, lingered on the door- step, his eyes fixed on the home view before him. Not much wonder that he did pause, to enjoy the sight of the closing day. Low on the western sky was a space of luminous light, above which hovered little fleecy clouds with edges of purest gold color ; and higher still, was that tint which is not green nor yet blue — clearer, more transparent than any hue we can name, and peering through it a star, the first harbinger of night. The light was all behind the church and its broad old yews ; the church was of a uni- form ashy grey, the trees almost black. Caractacus, the roan pony, stood in a ruminating attitude in the glebe meadow, surrounded by a host of poultry intent on going to roost. A knot of sheep were huddled together under the poplar-trees, the quivering of the restless leaves quite visible against the radiant sky ; occasionally there was a distant dog's bark, or a few notes from some garrulous bird, before it decided to put its head under its wing : no other sounds. "You look very tired, Walter," said Maud. 1' (5) b SKIRMISHING. He turned his cj'es from the sky and the church to her face. " Only sufficiently so to double the enjoyment of this hour of quiet," he answered. The face he was looking at, suited the hour and scene : it was full of a tranquil joy; the black eyes were kind and grave, like those of a child ; the forehead, up to that instant unruffled by one painful thought, as smooth as when she was five years old ; the lips as even in line and color-^not the slightest distur- bance visible in any feature. It is the last time the curate will see it thus : life is about to write its experience on the fair surface. "Shall we walk to the summer-house?" asked the curate, on hearing a hubbub of boys' and girls' voices ; his betrothed's brothers and sisters were coming in at the gate. Escott moved on without waiting for an assent, so well used was he to find Maud ready to follow Avherever he led. They were soon out of reach of the noisy merry rogues, and pacing the neatly gravelled walk leading to what was considered as Maud's particular retreat. " Did you observe that both ]<]ben Hart and Jemima "White were at evening service ?" was how Maud broke the silence of their walk. Escott nodded. " I went to see Jemima yesterday," continued the young lady. " It is not true that she is untidy, one of the accusations, you know, which old Hart brings against her. She keeps her father's cottage as clean and nice as possible, and as for herself, she was a picture of neatness — her hair shone like glass. I have been so iiuligiuuit at the cool way in which ICben gave her u\) ; I could not help saying, I hoped she would show a proper womanly pride, and never speak to him again." " And what did Jemima say?" asked the curate, with a smile in liis eyes. • Oh ! she began to defend him directly, and laid all the lilame on his father, declaring roundly that neither she nor any one else ought to lilame Eben ; he was only obey- ing Ills parents. I said, ' I do believe, .leiiiinia. you would have him now if he asked you,' and she answered, ' 1 am afraid I would, miss. I never could care about another man ; wo have walked togetliiT. l''l)cn iind me. ever since 1 was twelve years old.'" DATUR IIORA QUIETI. 7 I was sure of it," exclaimed the curate ; " a true woman this Miss Wliite. And you were really surprised, Maud, that you could not make Jemima take part against the man she loves ?" Maud scarcely heard what Escott said, at least did not at that moment seize his meaning ; it was only the voice that spoke she heard, only the smile of the speaker that she saw. Some men have advantages far beyond mere regularity of feature, and Escott was one of these too favoured children of nature. Maud felt his voice and smile like a "silent caress," and her young heart grew too big for her bosom, as she stood beneath his gaze. She turned away with a wish to say something, and could find nothing better to remark than, " Ah ! there vanishes the sun for this day." Escott murmured to himself, — " The sun grew broader towards his death, and fell." The aptness of the image struck Maud, and not recog- nizing the quotation, she thought to herself, as indeed she did a hundred times between every morning and evening of the week, " How clever he is !" Presently he said, " Maud, I have been thinking lately of proposing to your father to let me exchange duties for a couple of months with some overworked London curate : there is a positive injustice in one man's enjoying, summer after summer, such sweet fresh air, comparative no work, and another slaving day and night in dark pestiferous alleys, exposed to every sort of bodily and mental infection. I should like to send some half-poisoned creature here, and while I was trying my hand at his task, to picture him to myself, lying on the cool grass under a tree, drinking in the healthy air, learning to distinguish between the whistle of the blackbird and the song of the thrush ; taking his Sunday evening rest, with his eyes fixed on such a sky as this, watching the stars as they twinkle into sight." " Ah, yes ! but you, Walter, " " I," he went on quickly, " I should learn to be more grateful for the blessings of my lot." Maud, as she. listened, felt as though every syllable be said was a little painful blow on her heart — she had lit- erally a physical sensation of pain. IIow easily he talked 8 SKIRIVUSHING. of going away, and without one allusion to any unwilling- ness to leave her ; and she, why she knew that, of her own free-will, she could never decide Qp a day's absence from him. She had it on her lips to say, '• If you cared for mc as I care for you, I am sure you would not want to go to London or anywhere else, or be thinking of any one's happiness but mine." She did not utter her thought, however, for when a first doubt of a friend presents itself to an untried mind, it meets with intuitive opposition — it is driven away Avith the contempt due to a slanderer. Escott, in the meantime, yielding to the influence of the hour, had fallen into a pleasant reverie, without the re- motest idea of the effect of his last speech — more the expression of a momentary feeling than of any serious in- tention. Both were startled out of their meditations by the sound close by of some one whistling a popular polka, and directly afterwards a boy, dressed something in the fashion of a German student on a pedestrian expedition, i. e., in a brown hollaud blouse, with a black leather belt round his waist, a smart little cap on one side of his head, swinging a light cane, stepped jauntingly along the sunken road which ran by the rectory grounds. " It is young Brown," said Maud. The curate's face darkened. As the lad came opposite to where the young lady was standing, he ceased his Avhistle, and lifted his cap, with a half mock reverential gesture, showing as he did so a pro- fusion of light, close-curling hair. ISlaud bowed slightly, but Escott turned his back. In another instant the ob- noxious whistle was again ringing through the air. "What a misfortune for us and the parish that such people as these Browns should have taken tlie JIatch," .sighed Escott. "They do help llie poor tliough," said Maud. " Yes, they ^ive away money, and set a bad example in pretty equal ])roportions. That boy undoes in the week all the pood llic- pjrls get on Sundays. T detest to go up 1o the (.'(inimdii, lie is for ever there, talking and joking with the 11 arts, nnd Whites, and Tyles^ they are ten times as liglil-headed as they were before ho came here. lie is on his wav now to Coidblows, and the whole even- HAT UK llORA QUIETI. 9 ing will be spent in idle talk aiul merriment, if not worse. Larry Earl has left otF coming to read with nie on Sun- days, and I have no hesitation in laying the blame on that young vagabond." " Perhaps," said Maud, "if the boy had some compan- ions of his own rank, he would behave better. Ma- demoiselle says that when she has met him at the Earls, though he is full of his nonsense, he is never rude or un- gentlemanly." " I am sorry your governess knows anything of him. I trust he will never be allowed to make his way into the rectory." Here the walk and the conversation ended. The village of Eden, of which Maud's father, Mr. Great- orex, is the rector, with its pleasant pastures, its hop- gardens, its bosky ravines, its hill-sides clothed with hanging woods, its quiet green lanes, and its neat scat- tered cottages, lies snugly folded away among " long- backed downs." No high road to anywhere passes through it, no railway-station makes it easy of access. There is in it only one house of any pretension to gentility besides the rectory, viz., the Hatch, which, with its bright green outside shutters and deep grey roof, resembles many of the small chateaux in the environs of French provincial towns. But the Hatch had, till within very lately, been empty for years ; its owners had gone abroad, leaving it furnished, in the hope of its being taken as summer quarters. Now, as the Greatorexes' nearest neighbours lived three miles off, it may be easily under- stood how lonely they had been since the departure of the family from the Hatch, and how excited they became — from the eldest to the youngest — when it was known that the Hatch had at last found a tenant. Master Charlie Greatorex, some three months before this particular August evening, returning from an expe- dition with his ferret, had been startled by the sight of the opened windows of the " house to let," and of a one-horse fly standing at the gate. Charlie had recog- nized the driver as one of the men from the inn where Mr. Greatorex put up his carriage when he went to Z , the nearest market town to Eden ; so Charlie had stopped and asked the driver whom he had brought over. 10 SKIRMISHING. The driver did not know the name — some people come over with Mr. Matthews to look at the house ; but Charlie seeing a hand-book lying on one of the carriage seats, with the daring of a young heir-apparent — Charlie had no equal in Eden — sprang into the fly and opened the book. Alas ! there was no name, only the initial F. B. Little as it was, it was great news for the rectory lunch-table. By dinner-time the rector knew that the Hatch was let, positively let to a Mrs. Brown, who had one son. Mrs. Brown had taken the house for a year, and was coming to it immediately. Then had followed suppositions and conjectuff^'^ innu- merable. Was she a widow ? Probably ; though she might, to be sure, be the wife of an officer on foreign service, or of some one in India, a civil servant, or indigo- planter. It would have been more satisfactory had there been a Mr. Brown instead of a Master Brown ; but there being no visible husband did not necessarily prove the lady to be a widow. At any rate, she must be tolerably well off to take the Hatch: no one could live there with- out four or live servants. Well, it was a blessing the house was taken. If her mother would have preferred that Mrs. Brown had had a husband instead of a son, Maud could have wished the boy had been a girl. On tlie whole, however, the rectory was in high spirits. One must have lived in such a place as Eden to understand the value of a house being occupied. The first Sunday after the arrival of Mrs. Brown at the Hatch, morning service was fully attended, which is only the case in country parishes on solemn occasions. The choir — tenor, counter, and bass — managed miracu- lously to have shaved in time, and were in their seats in the ciianccl. No strangers came to hear them either in the morning or afternoon ; the disappointment was as good as a sermon against making the cflort of shaving early to eoinc to cliiirch, iiicrciy to gratify curiosity and vanity. Neitlicr that Sunday nor ensuing Sundays did the ten- ants of llic Hatch appear in churcli. Tiie (Jrcatiircxcs had hesitated to call on them; jirimo, because they iiad ajjparcntly no more religion than stocks SWALLOWING THE LEEK. 11 or stones, tliougli of their cliarity there could be no doubt ; secundo, becuuse the rector and his lady were not sure of the Browns' position in life — indeed every one was puzzled how and where to class them. Instead of the regular quota of cook, house-nuiid, footman, and gar- dener, hitherto considered the smallest establishment possible at the Hatch, the strangers had but one servant of all work, or for all work, and that servant a man and a foreigner, in fact a grey-haired Oerman. Then Master Brown had got acciuainted with all the folks on the Com- mon, the least respectable part of the parish, and, as the curate had said, was almost every evening to Ijc met in the green lanes thereabouts, walking with half a dozen girls, keeping them in fits of laughter. It was through these acquaintances the boy heard of any case of distress, and his mother's hand was as open as the day. No deny- ing that. It is not in the country as it is in town, Avhcre you are supremely indifferent to your next-door neigh- bours, so that they neither practice the cornet-k-piston nor manufacture fireworks. But if in the country there is a greater spirit of inquiry, there is a more neighbourly kindness also. The question of calling at the Hatch was at the end of three months still in an unsettled state ; there was indeed a large party in favour of doing so, composed of the junior members of the family, headed by grandmamma, and probably it might have been already decided in the affirmative but for Walter Escott's taciturn opposition. Had he only joined in the discussions, his power would have been a balanced one ; but that silence, which argued nothing, yet implied so much, made the scale of the objectors kick the beam. CHAPTER II. SWALLOWING THE LEEK. WHEN Escott and Maud walked through the con- servatory into the drawing-room, they heard grand- mamma's strong clear voice saying, — " Go and see them ? to be sure you ought. It should have been done long ago : better late than never ; they 12 SKIRMISHING. are your parishioners — they're not mad — they won't bite you." These obnoxious Browns were again under discussion. That's one of the disadvantages of the country. The allowable nine days for any topic is multiplied by nine. " I am afraid, mother," replied Mrs. Greatorex, " if we do, of its ending in something like our experiment with the Dunstans." " But, grandmamma," .... began Maud, who. believ- ing that her future husband must always be right, did not care that her family should run counter to his opinion. "Hush, Maud," interrupted grandmamma, "you are a partisan, therefore whatever you say on this point goes for nothiitg. After all, you know nothing more, do you, against these Browns, except that they haven't an estab- lishment of smart servants as your father has, but only a round-shouldered, shabby-looking old German, for all their domesticity ? and when you have added that they are not Sabbatical, you have emptied your bag, I believe." (Within a parenthesis be it explained, that the lady speaking was the Avidow of a Monsieur de I'Escrimifere, and that her English mother had also married a French- man, an emigrant of '92. "Madame de I'Escrimifere," or, as she chose now to be called, Mrs. Lescrimifere. though able to speak English fluently, would occasionally use a French word or idiom, when cither best expressed her meaning. She was an oppositionist by nature, and education had made her an abhorrcr of all arbitrary social distinctions — all despotic authority, of whatever species.) Mrs. Lcscrimiferc went on : "They have come from the Continent, and we know such folks can't have the respectability and gentility of pure, untravellcd English — aware of my own imperfec- tions in that line, I am paid to be indulgent, and as for their not having come to church yet, they mayn't be tlie less good (,'liristians for that." Escott was about to speak — "Oh! my dear curate," she said, waving her hand, •' I know what you arc going to say, perfectly well. I SWALLOWING THE LEEK. 13 don't deny your reasons, only allow that I am reasonable also when I beg you to remember that there were Chris- tians — excellent, the best of Christians — before they had any church to go to. Ah! you don't forget, I am sure, that the Jews and Pagans persecuted and despised them for not going to their temples. Now don't all of you look as though I deserved to be packed up between two faggots, but listen to a story !" Mrs. Lescrimifere gene- rally had a story pat for every subject. ""When my father and mother married, or rather when my father ran away with my mother to Gretna Green, (they were mar- ried afterwards also by a priest,) they found a pretty cottage among the hills in Cumberland, and thought it would be a fine quiet haven to wait in until the storm about their elopement should have blown over. Ah ! my father did not go to the village church, for an essential reason : he had been baptized and brought up as a Catholic — a Roman Catholic, as it's the fashion to say — and of course he would have deemed it a sin to pray in a Protestant church. Protestants return the compliment to the Roman Catholic chapels ; besides, it was not much the habit among Frenchmen of that epoch to go to any place of worship. My mother either lacked courage to face an inquisitive rural congregation by herself, or pre- ferred doing as her husband did — girls in love have a logic of their own : however that might be, they did not either of them go to church. I give you my word of honour my parents were really estimable persons — full of good works, Mr. Escott — descendants in right line of the good Samaritan. AVell, first there was a whisper in the Cumberland parish, which grew and grew in strength till it might have been heard a league round. The French couple were Jews, Turks, Atheists ; they burned the Bible every Sunday ; then their windows were broken, and on their drawing-room carpet hopped frogs, and I might never have been hei*e to tell this story but for the rector of the village and his amiable wife, afterwards my godmother. Up to that time, they had not called on the Johnny Crapauds, just because of their not having made their appearance at church ; but when this sort of perse- cution began, they bravely came to the cottage and invited my father and mother to the parsonage, and the 14 SKIRMISHING. vfliispers, and the hubbub, aud the plague of frogs ceased And so you see that the mere fact of not going to the parish church, so long at least as one keeps one's feet from straying into opposition chapels," (this was a hit at the curate,) ''does not of necessity make Mrs. Brown a phenomenon of wickedness." Escott now came out of his corner to say, — " Indifierence to small neglects of dut}', leads to very serious errors ; and voluntarily to choose for one's ac- quaintance those of whose habits we do not approve, is a willing exposure of ourselves to temptation. Besides, what an example to the parish, to see the rector and his family calling on people who tiy in the face of our admo- nitions as to the necessity of coming to church !" "How can you tell that it may not be the means of bringing Mrs. Brown and her young Pickle into the right way ? People in health don't require the doctor's care, do they ?" asked Mrs. Lescrimiere. " And as for tempta- tion, my dear sir, if you don't go to it, it comes to you ; perch yourself on the top of the Yendomo column, or hide in the caves of Edom. temptation will find you out. You must go out of this world to avoid it, if you do even then, my dear friend." Escott moved his shoulders, a ))etulant movement, such as one remarks in spoiled children. 'I'liis old lady was a great trial to him, and a trial for which he was not at all thankful ; there was something about her which he quali- fied to liimsclf as "disorder." She hated routine, never would receive any notion on authority, and would insist on discussing its reasonableness, its credibility. She dis- turbed Escott in all the ideas and liabits in which he had been brought up ; she did not in the least amuse him as she did tiie equally pious but more tolerant Mr. (Ireatorcx ; she was, besides, always so possessed by her subject, that she seldom perceived that she was worrying or displeasing any of her hearers by her insistence. " Such a theory as yours, grandmamma " began Mr. (Jreatorex, who as yet luul taken no part in the discus- sion. "Never mind theories," iiroke in the wilful old lady, "let's stick to pracliee, and J j)rotest Mrs. Brown's prac- tice is good. She is far from rich, that is clear; yet SWALLOWING THE LEEK.. 15 wherever there's sickness or the want of a shilling or two, I find Mrs. Brown's meat or Mrs. Brown's money. She lives a life that would do honour to a nun, young and handsome as she is ; and yet we send her to Coventry as though she were a confessed criminal." ''It is exactly because she chooses to live so differently from other people that one hesitates whether to visit her or not," said Mrs. Greatorex. " Why does she seek such retirement? no letters even!" " Go and ask her why; that will be the shortest way of coming at the reason," replied Mrs. Lcscrimifere, laugh- ing ; then she added, " 1 suppose I may as well confess that my word is at stake. My dear Louisa, I have promised a visit to Mrs. Brown, and being in the scrape myself, I thought you might as well be my companion ; and so I told the boy you would do yourself the pleasure of calling on his mother." At this announcement Escott turned sharply on his heel, and went into the conservatory, Maud's eyes fixed themselves on the carpet, Mrs. Greatorex reddened and looked at her husband. There was such an exuberance of hearty kind feelings in Mrs. Lescrimifere, such a strength of desire to help every sort of suffering, such a tendency to take the part of the weak against the strong (she always believed the weaker of the two to be in the right) ; and once enlisted in favour of any one or anything, such an incapability of seeing the other side of the question, that this was by no means the first time that, through taking the initiative, she had entangled her daughter in. a delicate dilemma. It would take pages to describe Mrs. Lescrimiijre's admi- rable mistakes ; the wonder to her friends was, tliat after her sad experiences, she should be still so full of life, and hope, and what Escott denominated, speculative optim- ism. Common-place people called her ways of thinking and acting, affi'ctation or insanity ; wiser heads said, that the quickness of her circulation was at the root of it all. The measure of difference of views between motlier and daughter was that of a whole century. While Mrs. Les- crimifere had been roughing it through the world with a husband whose political opinions forced him to change his place of residence pretty frequently, Louisa, now Mrs. 1 6 SKIRMISHING. Greatorex, was being educated in a provincial town in England by a v.idowed aunt, on the walls of whose sitting- room hung engravings of George the Third, Queen Charlotte, and William Pitt : educated, that is, under the shadow of the unfolded standard of reverence for the divine right of kings, of social etiquettes, and of old systems. Reunited to her mother, Louisa's notions had been gradually somewhat modified, she had even learned that some of her gods were false gods, she had moments when she was as ready as her mother to be in- dignant over the good old times ; but then it was her heart, not her head, that was influenced ; no, under the surface of her charming gentleness and real simplicity, lurked the ineradicable Tory prejudices of her j'outh. She yielded to her mother from love, but her sympathies were with her intended son-in-law, a great stickler for au- thority in all things qiiand mhne. The dead silence of their elders made Carry, and Charlie, and "Willie, who had been busily talking over the pictures in the large Bible, cease their chatter, and begin to watch what was going on. Mr. Greatorex was the one who relieved Mrs. Lescri- mifere's embarrassment, for embarrassed she was in spite of liersclf; he said, "You have cut the Gordian knot, grandmamma — bravely come to the rescue of our curi- osity ; we could not have gone on much longer wondering about these neighbours of our. "Whatever conies it, we can now lay all the blame on you. I shall have interest- ing news for our next clerical meeting." "I thought you clericals never talked of anything but Greek," here put in Master Charlie. The Swiss governess frowned severely on the young gentleman. " But how did you come to speak to young Brown, mother?" asked Mrs. Greatorex. "I met the boy yesterday at Mrs. Green's, my dear ; he had been helping the poor old body to carry her pail of water, and he was sitting chatting with her when 1 went in. I could not pretend not to see him, and once having spoken, the, conNersation went on of itsell'. We walked down the hill together. 1 liked his keen relish of the bright sunshine, the llowers, the birds. ] liked the way SWALLOWING THE LEEK. 17 he avoided all hints or allusions to himself or us ; not a word as to its being dull here ; — that was a proof of self- respect, wasn't it ?'' All the good lady's usual brightness of eye and briskness of tone were merged into anxiety to mollify her auditors. Mr. Greatorex again took her part; he liked her smiles and her little brusqueric. "Well, well, grandmamma, we'll go and fulfil your promise ; when we have seen Mrs. Brown, and talked with her, we shall be able to judge with something of knowledge." Escott left the field to the conqueror. The summer twilight was over and night had arrived when the curate walked out of the rectory porch ; the stars glittered through the branches of the great cedar that stood to the right of the lawn, and made it look like a child's gigantic Christmas tree, hung with variegated crystal drops. Outside the gate, nothing of earth checked his view of heaven's great spangled arch. The pure light of the gleaming galaxy streamed into his soul and showed him how puerile the causes which had chafed his spirit. The stars called to him in the same voice in which they had called to the patriarchs and shepherds of ages past; they told him as they had told those of old, " To sing praises unto the Lord who sitteth in the heavens over all from the beginning." " Can any one with the power of thought be abroad on such a night in the quiet fields full of sheep, the valleys thick with corn so that they laugh and sing, and not have awakened within him a prophetic knowledge of God?" Escott was passing the llatch as he thus soliloquised. Out from the widely opened windows floated a rich volume of melody. A voice, ajDparently a woman's contralto, sung with merry vigour, " II scgreto per esscr felice." Escott stopped to listen, for the music and singing were exquisite ; yet impossible to have chanced on anything more jarring with the tone to which his meditations were pitched than the words of that song, familiar to him as to most people. " Unfortunate beings !" said the curate to himself, •' who, informed by an immortal soul, can fall so low as to take such joys as the secret of happiness !" Nevertheless, 18 SKIRMISHING. the strain held him entranced, and he had a painful double consciousness, as if something in himself answered to the dictum of the song. And where are we to find the per- son who has not often experienced a sudden inner reaction, from the noble to the mean ? where is the one who has never revolted against himself in acknowledging that ten- dency of his mind to gravitate towards low desires, as his feet to the earth ? CHAPTER III. DODGE. MES. GREATOREX believed that "those Browns" would be highly gratified by a call from the rectory. She felt in her heart that it was a condescension on her part, which ought to give pleasure. All over the civilized world is there not an anxiety to be visited by the right people ; that is, by our superiors ? Not by angels or archangels, understand, but by rank and fashion. And what a deal of trouble we take to accomplish this end ! We should be pretty sure of entering the gates of heaven, if we practiced the same humility, self-control, and self- sacrifice we do to get within the park gates of the greatest man within our reach. Not that this bastard sort of hero-worship makes us unnatural in our afl'ections or dis- torts us into monsters ; its worst eficct in general, being, the making us poor-folks forget, not our humble friends, but to cut our coat according to our cloth. Now Mrs. Greatorex, a lady whoso father belonged to one of those fine old French families designated, Les t/rands chcvaux de Lorraine, the wife of a reverend gen- tleman of family and fortune, imagined, and as tlic world goes, had a right to inuigino, she was about to confer a signal favour on a Mrs. Brown, who apparently had neither fortune nor friends. "1 think," mused Mrs. Greatorex, "that she is proba- bly a person who will l)e gratified if I go rather smart." It might be fur that reason Mrs. (jrcutorcx put on her newest bonnet and mantle, or it might be that she was DODGE. 19 unconsciously iufluenced by having heard, or read of, or felt by expericucc, the effect produced by fine feathers. As she walked along the pretty winding road across the Lea, leaning on her husband's arm, thoir younger chil- dren romping around them, making the "air vocal" with their merry voices, the pleasant day and her own pleasant sensations developed in the bosom of the rec- tor's wife a general good will, extending to the unknown neighbour she was going to visit. "If we find this Mrs. Brown presentable," said Mrs. Greatorex, "we might ask Mr. and Mrs. Lonsdale to meet her at our house. Mrs. Lonsdale likes strangers, and she does not see many people herself." Mr. and Mrs. Lonsdale were from Australia; compa- ratively, new arrivals in the neighbourhood, and just beginning in right of a good fortune to slip into country society. At much about the same moment Mrs. Greatorex was projecting to give Mrs. Brown a chance of more new acquaintances, Mrs. Brown was lamenting to Hans, in German, the probability of the visit, the menace of which George had brought her from Mrs. Lescrimifere. Hans, a feather brush in hand, was gravely marching about the room removing the dust from tables and chairs ; naturally, Hans being single-handed in the house, had to manage to keep it clean, when and how he could. He showed that he heard what his mistress was saying, by an occasional sympathizing smack of his protruded lips, or the holding of his brush interjectionally aloft. " All our quiet gone, and I thought myself so sure of being avoided if I did not go to church !" added Mrs. Brown with a sigh. Hans replied by putting up his shoulders and drawing down his head between them ; then with a " chut," pointed his brush towards the window, and hurried to open the door to the rector and his wife. The children were left on the lawn. The ladies made a nice contrast. Mrs. Greatorex, small, slight, with almost a girlish figure, a pretty bru- nette, with bright dark eyes, a light step (French in appearance in spite of her English education), and the manner of one accustomed to the first place. 20 SKIRMISHING. Mrs. Brown, tall, large, calm, rather indolent-looking, beautiful to a degree that startled her visitors ; — great beauty is a rare sight. As one freemason discovers a brother by signs unknown to the uninitiated, so does one woman instantly perceive when another belongs by right to the same class as herself. Mrs. Greatorex at once understood that Mrs. Brown was her equal, and further, she felt satisfied, as immediately, of her respectability; how or why she could not have demonstrated any more than she could have given reasons for detecting under downcast eyelids and faultless dress, the woman pas comme ilfaut. Habits of life and thought write on the human being, as the sun leaves its trace on everything it touches — it fades some and brightens others ; our daily habits do the same for our appearance. The impression Mrs. Brown received was agreeable and equally instantaneous ; while the usual phrases with which strangers begin to make acquaintance with one another were being interchanged, she was thinking "how well those two people suit each other, how her loveliness must relieve his soberness." Mrs. Greatorex, though, was less talkative than was her wont; she was pre-occupied by a mental calculation, Mrs. Brown's luxuriant blue black hair, her clear even complexion, her brilliant teeth, her smooth, well-coloured lips, belonging to a woman of fivc-and-twonty, rather than to one who was the mother of a lad of fifteen. Mrs. Greatorex, struggling with her computations, every now and then lapsed out of the conversation. Having at last settled the point that !Mrs. Brown could not be less than four or five-and-thirty, Mrs. Greatorex roused herself to take an active part in what was passing ; and the first thing she heard was the rector, hoping in a very sincere voice that Mrs. Brown might like Eden, " though it was f|uiet, it did not usually strike strangers as dull." How Mr. Greatorex is talking, just as if Mrs. Brown had been well recommended to him 1 and so she had. Mr. (Jrcat- orex's eyes had lieen busy with the titles of books lying on the table before him, and he felt almost as if Mrs. Brown had shown him excellent letters of introduc- tion. "We must not go too fast," thought Mrs. Greatorex. DODGE. 21 Mrs. Brown answered Mr. Greatorex, " I came here to be quiet. George needs country air." " I suppose your son has entirely left school," put in Mrs. Greatorex. " He has never been at school," returned Mrs. Brown ; paused, then continued, " George has had no regular education or training ; it was thought best to let him do only what he himself asked to do — he is quite untutored." "Is he under medical treatment?" asked Mrs. Great- orex ; great interest in her tone and look, but with the ease acquired by one who is much accustomed to go about among her poorer neighbours, and discuss with them their private concerns. Mrs. Brown answered gently, but with great decision, " He requires no other care than that of his mother." " He is a great musician, I hear," observed Mrs. Great- orex, her eyes on a grand piano. "We are all great lovers of music." Conversation languished so sadly that Mrs. Greatorex's eyes were beginning to seek those of her husband in con- sultation as to ending the visit, when Charlie, rushing across the lawn, called in at the ojien window, " Mother, mother, do come and see !" " I dare say Georgey is feeding the birds," said Mrs. Brown ; " that is it, is it not ?" and she smiled at Charlie, whose eyes were shining with eagerness. Mrs. Brown's voice and look were really captivating when she spoke to the boy. She liked children ; that was clear to Mrs. Greatorex. "Mamma may come, mayn't she, Mrs. Brown?" said Charlie, as if the lady had been an old friend of his. "Certainly;" and Mrs. Brown rose to lead the way, moving slowly, her hand on the little boy's shoulder, looking down on his handsome, upraised face, as he told her how he could scarcely believe his own eyes when he saw the birds out of the trees and hedges come flying at George's whistle. " You won't be offended, will you, Mrs. Brown, at my calling him George ; it would be so odd to call a fellow not much bigger than myself, Mr. Brown." " Call him George," said Mrs. Brown. They found the said George standing in one of the 22 SKIRMISHING. grass paths of the kitchen garden, Carry and TVillie, pictures of delighted amazement, staring with all their might at young Brown, who was throwing bird-seed into the air, which some dozen chafiSnches and sparrows, fluttering round him, caught ere it fell to the ground.* " How did you manage to tame the birds so ?" exclaimed Mrs. Greatorex, as the boy, after throwing one more handful to his pensioners, made a little bow to his mother's visitors. " That's my secret," replied George. " "Will you teach me, George ?" asked Charlie, adding, in a voice deprecatory of offence, "Mrs. Brown says I may call you George." " Your little brother," said George, with a dry laugh, and looking at the youngest boy, who, with his arms crossed, was still gazing at him with solemn admiration, " your little brother has just christened me afresh. He calls me Dodge." " Poor Willie cannot pronounce all his letters yet," explained Mrs. Greatorex. " Oh ! I don't at all object to being called Dodge ; indeed, I rather like and approve of it. I beg you will all call me Dodge in future." As Mr. and Mrs. Greatorex were taking leave of Mrs. Brown and her son, Hans came forward with a large nosegay of the commonest garden flowers, and presented it to the rector's wife with a profusion of bows and smiles. "A foreign custom," said Mrs. Brown. " Excuse the old man ; if there had been only daisies and poppies, he would have thought me disgraced had he let you quit the garden without a bouquet." "He has arranged it so well," said ISfrs. Greatorex, "that he has produced an admirable artistic effect. I wish he could impart some of his skill to us." Mrs. Brown turned and repeated this praise to Hans, who spluttered out in return an offer of his services. When they had left the Hatch some fifty yards behind, •Sorao persons having donMcd tlie posslWlity of this feat, flicy are hereby Inf^rmpd It may be soon performed In the gardens of the TullerleK, by a gentlemao who doeH not brook being interfered trlth when KO engaged. DODGE. 23 Mr. Greatorcx broke tlie silence with a " Well !" Mrs. Greatorex replied with another " Well !" one in which there was still more of interrogation than in that of her husband. " I think you must have been, as the saying is, agree- ably disappointed," said the rector. "She must have been beautiful," said the rector's lady. " She is beautiful, my dear," returned the gentleman. " Strange her coming here," observed the lady. " Stranger, than if she had been plain ?" asked the rector, slyly. " Frankly, I should not have thought it so odd had she been an ordinary-looking person," answered Mrs. Great- orex. She was silent for a little, then said, — "I suppose, though, she has really and truly come here on account of that odd boy; I decidedly don't like him. I hope he won't do Charlie any harm : by the way, where are the children ? I thought they had followed us." There was no trace of them. "They must have run back again," said Mr. Greato- rex. " Poor little souls, they are delighted with the novelty of such a young original as that Master Dodge; we can send for them if they don't come home soon." Maud had not accompanied her father and mother to the Hatch, out of deference to Escott's evident repug- nance to the Browns. " What had I better do, grandmamma ?" she had asked. Lately, that is, since she had loved Escott, Maud had taken the habit of rather consulting her grandmother on little difficulties of conduct, than her mother. Maud was incapable of imagining •' mamma" could be wrong ; it was not a preference, but an instinct which guided her to where she would have her newly-doveloped want of sym- pathy supplied. Mrs. Greatorex had never in her life, suSered — never had had any occasion to be uneasy as to how she should, or should not act, or been anxious as to the effect she might produce on others. She could not, of course, be blind or deaf to the existence of suffering in others ; nor was she unmerciful, or unwilling to help., but she always had a private belief that it was, on the whole, " people's own doing— people's own fault," Avhen they got 24 SKIRMISHING into trouble ; whereas, in Mrs. Lcscriniifere, there was a breadth and depth of sympathy, and pity, and forgiveness, quite out of the common — the misery or the anguish always hid from her the fault, if fault there was. "Whether great or small the distress, her ears, her heart, her judg- ment were ready for any applicant, and without any of that flattering complaisance sometimes mistaken for sym- pathy. " What shall I do, grandmamma ?" then had Maud inquired, in the certainty of her little dilemma being treated with attention. " It's always stupid," said Mrs. Lescrimifere, " to give unnecessary pain to one that loves us ; and it's not a matter of duty your calling on Mrs. Brown ? Escott has really a good heart, all his" — the old lady hesitated for a word — " hardness will vanish with more experience ; he is strong enough to grow more merciful, my dear ; yes, I am sure he will ; let's thank God, he is not weak :" and so Maud did not go to the Hatch. The children came home full of talcs of the delights of the Hatch, llans had made them the most delicious, tiny sugar-cakes. 'J'hey liked Mrs, Brown very much. In the course of the evening, Mr. Greatorex said to Escott, "We paid a visit to your bugbears to-day, and my wife found out two good qualities in Mrs. Brown." Mrs. Greatorex stared. The rector went on — " Mrs. Brown likes children and cleanliness. I saw how Mrs. Greato- rex looked over and under the furniture, and then nodded her head approvingly. I understand her ways. We like Mrs. Bromn." Escott, with a very grave face, said, " I am glad you liave been pleased ;" his voice sounded much more like, "I am sorry you have been pleased." Garry kept diligently by the curate's side; he was rather fonder of her than of the other young ones. " What do you want of ine. Carry ?" he said at last. " 1 have a secret to tell you," she answered ; "you must come into the torner, and not let any one hear." With lior fresh, rosy lips close to his car, she confided to him that she had told Dodge, CnURCII-QOING AND HOP-PICKING. 25 " That's young Mr. Brown, you know, Willie called him so, that he was naughty not to come to church." "Ay, and what did he say to that, Carry?" "He said he should go to sleep if he did; and I told him that didn't matter, for grandmamma always went to sleep in the sermon, and Willie snored quite loud some- times ; and so Dodge said I was a good little girl, and perhaps he might come next Sunday, to please me, if I promised you wouldn't frown at him ; and now, you won't look cross, will you, dear ?" and she kissed him. " I won't be bribed," said Escott. " Oh ! but you must ; do promise, that Dodge may learn to be good." "Very well. I will not even look at your new friend." "I say, mother," here cried out Charlie, "I forgot to tell you Dodge's father is dead." " How do you know anything about that ?" said hia mother. " Carry asked him where his father was, and he said he hadn't one." " Ah I well, I am very sorry for him, poor boy," replied Mrs. Greatorex ; and tlacn in a low voice to Mrs. Lescri- mifere, she said, " I am glad we know that much, however. It sets my mind at rest as to some things." CHAPTER IV. CBURCH-GOING AND HOP-PICKING. THE next Sunday, the curate and Maud were, as usual, following the school children into church, when they became aware by an unmistakeable laugh that young Brown was near. The boy was under one of the old yews with Larry Earl ; Escott remembering his promise to Carry, did not turn his head that way. The Hatch pew was close to the reading-desk, and the curate, who always read the morning prayers, saw that Mrs. JJrown was there. Dodge waited outside till the words " Dearly beloved," before he came with his jaunty step up the aisle, creating a general titter among the girls and boys as he did so. 3 26 SKIRMISHINa What better time than this to give a description of the Rev. AValter Escott? He never looks better than he does in his ample snovr-white surplice. He is of middle height, slight, with a thin, dark face ; his forehead well developed makes him seem older than he is ; his eyes are hazel ; his features are good ; his face full of expression. He possesses in perfection that summum bonum to a man whose duty it is to persuade hearts — a beautiful voice. "He draws the heart out of me," was how old Miss Earl described the effect he produced on her. " It was quite another thing," she averred, " to hear Mr. Greatorex read the prayers, or Mr. Escott." Curiously enough, the curate disliked to have his voice or delivery admired ; he did all in his power to be mono- tonous. Any c^uphasis or change of tone in reading the Scriptures or the Prayer-book, seemed to him a sort of sacrilege. He leaned to the opinion of the old dame who boxed her grandson's ears for not reading the Bible in his Bible voice, i. e., in a nasal, drowsy sing-song. How- ever, with the best will in the world, Walter Escott could not destroy the charm of his voice and accent ; and while the curate spoke, George Brown, whose strongest taste was for music, forgot to fidget and stare about him. He went into a sound sleep during Mr. Greatorex's sermon. The rectory was jubilant at this appearance of Mrs. Brown. Mrs. Greatorex, in particular, rejoiced as over a new convert, saying, — "I am glad we went to see her; now my mind is quite at rest. She has been so long out of England, that per- haps she thought it was etiquette not to come to church until we had called." Mrs. Greatorex was in that mood when wo arc ready to give to the person who has procured us a heartfelt satis- faction, an unlimited credit of good reasons for the con- duct tliat has iiithcrto dis])]oasod us. Even though neither Mrs. J5rowu nor Dodge attended afternoon ser- vice, Mrs. Greatorex again repeated that " her mind was now at rest." 'I'iio sinqile explanation was, that Mrs. Brown having found that staying from church was no safeguard from visitors, saw no reason why she sliould I'urtlier expose herself to the charge of being a lieathen, or worse. CHURCH-GOING AND HOP-PICKING. 27 Mrs. Greatorcx advised Escott to call at the Hatch. " I assure you, I think we shall find, at least, Mrs. Brown a pleasant neighbour; and there is no reason now to avoid her." Escott in his own mind said something not compli- mentary to the steadiness of woman's judgment : but on reconsidering the matter, he blamed himself for expect- ing that which nature had denied to the weaker sex : being of the nobler gender, this appearance at church had not diminished his antipathy. Nevertheless, as he had on the whole a respect for Mrs. Grcatorex, arising principally, it must be owned, from her opinions being much influenced by his, he condescended to her wishes ; and putting his card-case into his pocket, and trying to stifle his unneighbourly feelings, presented himself at the Hatch. Hans shook his head, explanatory of the cour- teous assurance given in German, "of his regret that no one was at home." Within a few days a card, M'ith Mr. George Brown written in a cramped hand, appeared on Escott's writ- ing-table. The day Mrs. Brown chose for returning Mrs. Greatorex's call and subsequent one from Mrs. Lescriraifere, it happened that all the rectory family had gone to Z . And at this point of interchange of visits, the intercourse between the Greatorexes and the Browns stopped ; greatly owing to Mrs. Brown's reserve and obstinate retirement, but partly due also to a new alarm taken by Mrs. Greatorex, as to the dangers for her children of any intimacy with George. This was how it was. Harvest was over, and merrymakings were the order of the season. " Many a youth and many a maid" passed the better part of the night in dancing, though they had to be a-field by cock-crow; and rumors reached the rector's lady, through the gossip of Eden ^jar excellence, that George Brown made one at these jocund meetings. This gossip, who had decided opinions as to the necessity of the use of the rod, put the query to Mrs. Greatorex whether she thought the young gentleman's mannna could be aware of such improper condescension. Mrs. Greatorex, in reporting the news to Mrs. Lescri- mifere, said, " Indeed, and she had more than half a mind 28 SKIRMISHING. to take the bull by the horns," (a flight of fancy on the fair speaker's part, for she was a timid woman, and terri- fied even for a cow,) " and go and talk to Mrs. Brown of those so-said misdemeanors of her son ; or, better still, if she could fall in with Master Dodge himself, she would give him a sound lecture, and ask him if he wanted com- panions or partners, why he did not rather seek them at the rectory." In thus finishing her sentence, Mrs. Greatorex's con- science gave her a little prick, and said very softly that she had not been very willing to afford the lad a choice of associates. "We do occasionally accuse folks of not benefiting by opportunities we have not given them. Mrs. Lescrimifere had answered, " When you come to inquire, my dear, you'll find this story only another of your gossip's bottle of smoke. The Italian proverb is safe to follow : ' Believe the half of the half of what you hear.' " Shortly after, Mrs. Greatorc.x had a chance meeting with George Brown in Farmer Earl's hop-garden. A hop-garden in a good year is a pretty sight : every woman and child in the parish goes hop-gathering; the money they thus gain provides them with clothing. Mothers carry with them their six -weeks' -old babies, and make beds for them on the ground close to their hop-baskets; boys and girls, from three years old and upwards, pick with all the might of their little fingers. Only so many men as are requisite to pull up the poles and supply the pickers with the hop-bind, are allowed in the garden. Hop-picking was a time of rejoicing for the rectory children, and all of them, under the charge of the gover- ness, had gone early to where the i)icking was going on. Airs. Greatorc.x and ]\laud went to join them later. George Brown's merry laugh reached the two ladies as they were seeking the children : there he was, behind Jemima AVhite, flirting vigorously with her, and Eben Hart dragging a loaded pole past tlieni, looking as ])lack as thunder. (Jeorgc was lu'li)ing Jemima to pull on a pair of gloves, to do wliich he was on his kMiees, with his arms round her waist. He nodded, in tlie most unabashed manner, to the rector's wife and daughter, who passed on with very still bows. CHURCH-GOING AND HOP-PICKING. 2S To explain George's action, it is necessary to state that hop-gatherers always beg for old gloves from the gentry in the vicinity, to save the skin of their hands Irom being stained or torn ; and young Brown had been giving away some cheap new gloves to most of the girls, at which generosity many of the older women shook their heads mournfully. " Dodge is going to give them all tea," cried Carry, running to her mother; "Mrs. Goodeve is getting it ready, and such lots of cakes." And before her mother could restrain her, Carry was by George's side. Pre- sently, there he was, with the help of the rectory young ones, carrying cups of tea to the elderly ladies he had so scandalized. " I cannot make that boy out," sighed Mrs. Greatorex ; " however, as he is doing a kindness, let us go and speak to him, Maud." As they were making their way over prostrate poles, wreathed with a more gracefully luxuriant vine than even that -which produces the grape, the ladies met Farmer Earl, girdled with long bits of narrow wood, like so many skewers. He was stooping before one group after another, and cutting notches on these tallies and corresponding ones on that, each hop-picker presented to him. Be it known to those who were never in a hop country, that the notches on the tallies were by way of a memorandum of the number of baskets filled by each individual. Far- mer Earl's appearance merits a line or two. It proclaimed him one of the lords of creation by nature's patent of nobility. A man hale and hearty, and though sixty, with eyes as bright, colour as fresh, step as firm as though he had been only thirty. His was an open, frank English face, a little, a very little irony lurked in the smile that lay habitually on his lips ; it was the sole outward mark left by the hardships and disappointments of life, which spare no class, lie was very popular among his labourers, saying " No," and acting as though he had said " Yes ;" in fact, unable to refuse help to any who asked it of him. As a matter of course, he was not a very prosperous man. Mr. Earl liked the rector's children, in right of having dandled them all when babies : in right of being one of 30 SKIRMISHING. the principal tithe-payers, and of liis office as parish church-warden, he was (though his heart inclined to him) always a little refractory with the rector himself. In fact. Farmer Earl held the proud position of leader of the opposition in Eden ; he would not be a less man than the carpenter, Stephen Amos, the parson's church-warden and prime minister. Eden, nevertheless, was a pattern parish for peace and goodwill. " A good year for hops, Mr. Earl," began Mrs. Greato- rex, as the farmer presented Miss Maud with a glorious bunch of hops. "Well, an' so it be, ma'am; but we are bound, you know, to be satisfied with the bad as well as the good. It all comes from the same hand. As I says, what's the use of complaining " — what a fine twang Eden folks be- stow on that word, letters won't give the sound — " com- plaining, it won't keep the honey, nor yet the fly from the hops, will it now ? if it wud, there'd be some advantage in flying out ; as it be, I sees none, no more I do, ma'am." '• I always say, you are one of the most reasonable men I know," said Mrs. Grcatorex, "and that is why I am about to ask you for your opinion. You sec young Brown very often. I want you to tell me what you think of him ; would he be a proper companion for Master Charles ?" Tlie smile on Earl's lips grew broader as he replied. " Law, bless you ! what a young gentleman for fun that be ; he'd make a cat split his sides with laughing, he would ; he ain't no harm in him, bless you, nothing worse anyhow than a lilllc quizzicalncss like as to some folk; it comes downright natural to the lad to laugh. I sees he can't help it ; he don't use bad language, never ; he don't drink, won't touch a drop of beer, let alone spirits ; he don't care for mucli as I makes out 'cept amusing hisself. My sister's terrible fond of him, sure." Here some urchins who had been waiting for the farmer to nick their tallies, at last succeeded in catching his eye. "Ah ! you have filled your basket, have you?" and he accepted the basket as full, which certainly was not so, and plnrod the stick so eagerly held up to liim against its fellow hanging to his girdle, and gave it the eagerly-de- sired notch. CHURCH-GOINQ AND HOP-PICKING. 31 Mrs. Greatorex did not feel justified in renewing the conversation about George, and walked on. Presently she observed to Maud, — " T begin to believe, putting one thing and another together, that that boy must be weak-minded ; that's the only way I can satisfactorily explain what looks so strange in mother and son." " I can't think so, mamma, he has such fine bright eyes,'* said Maud. " Oh ! my dear, fine eyes have nothing to do with san- ity. I don't mean to say he is exactly mad, only a little old ; a great many people who go loose about the world, would be the better for being undej" surveillance ; if they were, many crimes would never be committed that are committed. No reasonable mother would keep a boy of that age idle at home, unless there were some good cause." Maud made no answer. She knew, and every one inti- mate with INIrs. Greatorex knew, that it was her favou- rite theory that great criminals were mad, and that any conduct for which she could not find a reason, was the eflect of a disordered intellect. It was the shape the be- nevolence took, which she had inherited from her mother. Mrs. Lescrimifere would say, " one does not know what misfortune, or temptation, or indeed accident, may have led to error ; what fearful circumstance plunged a crea- ture into crime ; till I do, I don't judge, I grieve." Mrs. Greatorex could not suspend her judgment; with her, wrong was wrong, to be condemned and punished as such — temptation could always be overcome. St. Paul had said so. She crept out of the severe consequences of her own sentence by laying the blame on disease. Pre-occupied by her own supposition, Mrs. Greatorex sought George, and was so motlicrly and pleasant in her manner to him, that the mocking spirit by which he seemed possessed was for the present exorcised. A face shining with benevolence, and lips speaking kind words, are surer weapons against evil spirits than book, and bell, and holy water to boot. The rector's wife and George walked amicably through the hop-garden ; he talked to her pretty much as any rational boy of his age might have done. Mrs. Greato- 82 SKIRMISHING. rex, however, did not make use of this favorable oppor tunity for taking the bull by the horns, as she had declared she would ; she did — as most of us do, when the question is to repeat face to face, what we have said or heard behind backs, — executed some skilful passes of fence, by which she managed to extract from Master Dodge, for her own and the reader's satisfaction, that he had only been to the harvest homes of Farmer Earl and of Farmer Croft, who lived, indeed, on the other side of the ill-famed common, but on that occasion Hans had gone with his young master. Mrs. Greatores boasted not a little as to this matter, and of how she had carried off the youth from the aitrac- tions of hop-picking. "It all depends," she said, "on the way one takes. I remember an old Scotchman telling me that the worst method of doing good was that of always running counter to people's ideas or fancies ; it was like rubbing a cat's fur the Avrong way ; it made sparks fly out." "In other words, you recommend coaxing," said Mr. Greatorex, laughing. Mrs. Greatorex did not condescend to hear, but went on, — " When I am puzzled by what I see, I confess I can't rest till I have solved the difficulty. I believe Mrs. Brown is to be pitied, not blamed." " I confess," said Mrs. Lescrimifere, " the readiness with which good Christians suspect their neighbors does sur- prise me." "Come, come, grandmamma," interposed Mr. Greato- rex. "We are not pruliihited from using our judgment as to the words and actions of men. What we are for- bidden to do, is to attribute bad molives 1o what may not be clear to us, or to any act wliicli is undeniably good in itself." "'J'oo fine-drawn for my intellects, most reverend son ; it is said without any pros or cons. Judge not." "Shall I give you an exam])le of what I mean ?" asked Mr. (ireatorcx, his eye laughing roguishly. "Sonietliing at my expense, probably," returned Mrs Lescrimiijre ; " however, let us have it." "As when the other evening, you remember, you aa CHURCH-GOINQ AND HOP-PICKING. 33 cribed to Eiiffland as a motive for her noble war with France, a desire to destroy liberty in that country." " And did not the i:)olicy of England justify the impu tation ?" asked ]Mrs. Lescriniifere, boiling up directly. " You don't know what you are talking about. 1 recollect what you cannot. I am twenty or thirty years older than you. 1 heard things discussed in my childhood as daily matters of interest which you only know cursorily, and from English accounts of them. I say again, that England in setting herself against the desire of liberty in France, caused the Reign of Terror.'' " Grandmamma !" exclaimed Maud. " Yes, my dear, it's very shocking, and very true. It was the coalition of Europe against France which forced the French to raise fourteen armies, which, without bread or shoes, were victorious armies, that beat your coalition — it was the horrible pressure from without that brought forth the Reign of Terror, and all the other abominations of that period. If the poor French had been allowed to change their bad government for a good one, been allowed to obtain the freedom they wanted and had a right to, why we should not have had Napoleon the First, he grew out of that state of things. We should not have had the Peninsular war. I should not have been the daughter of one Frenchman and the wife of another ; nor you had your large black eyes, Miss Maud. Don't you side against France, child ; your best feature comes from thence." By this time Mrs. Lescrimi6re had lost all her heat, and laughed her own most charming laugh at her vehemence. In spite of the contending elements which it cannot be denied were to be found in the characters of Mrs. Lescri- mifere and the Oreatorexes, there could hardly have been discovered in all England a more sincerely united, amiable, and upright family. But a truce to panegyrics. It is the duty of the teller of a story to allow his principal per- sonages to develop themselves in action, and modestly confine himself to giving as agreeable a picture of their persons as is consistent with truth. Mrs. Greatorex has been already depicted: a pretty brunette, not above forty, and looking still younger. She liked to be told she was often mistaken for Maud's elder 34 SKIRMISHING sister. Of course there were ill-conditioned individuals who held that this was a weakness, and that to be thoroughly consistent with her position as the wife of an elderly rector, and the mother of a young lady on the eve of marriage, it would have been Mrs. Greatorex's duty to look as old as possible. To this view of her duty as a wife and mother, Mrs. Greatorex demurred. Maud was perhaps less French-looking than her mother, still her appearance also betrayed a foreign origin. Her large black eyes were fringed by lashes longer and thicker than is often seen round English orbs ; and she had also a trifle of the squareness of the French face. Her ex- pression was that of her father, the same placidity, the same smile, and also that which is very pretty in a woman, but odiously troublesome in a man, " A dimpled chin, Made for love to lodge in." Mrs. Greatorex was peculiarly graceful in all her move- ments, whereas iNlaud had occasionally a little rustic gaucherie about her, not uiipleasing, denoting as it did the never having been broken into the life of a fashion- able young lady. Maud was very pretty in her cvery-day dress ; she might have passed unnoticed in a ball-room. She had nothing of what her grandmotlicr called " tour- nure." Her parents thought her perfect, her brothers and sisters loved her, admired her, and plagued her in tolerably equal proportion ; the whole parish, school- children included, spoke well of Miss Maud. It was amid such genial surroulHlin^•s that Escott had seen and, ap- preciating her, had sought her liand. It was on that occasion that Mrs. Lescrimifere for the first time tliought hrr dear Maud no wiser than other girls. Mrs. Lescriniifcre had her theories about husbands, Escott his about wives, 'i'iiis was what passed between the grandmother and lover, when he was talifing over his happiness to the old lady. "Maud," he said lastly, " is indeed all that a man could desire in the woman lie selects to be the mother of his children. 1 am sure, that with her I shall have in my home an atmosphere of purity and peace, which will be as an elixir to re-invigorate my spirit, when it is fretted l)y that contact with folly and misery it is my business to seek." CHURCn-GOING AND HOP-PICKING. 35 It was an;ainst Escott's opinions as to the life of a clergyman, this falling in love and marrying, and he was, in thus speaking, not expressing his feelings, but making out a good case as to himself for himself. Mrs. Lcscri- mifere took him at his own word. If people only under- stood in time that they will often be judged rather by their silly words than their wise actions, it would save many a heartache. This, by the way, as Mrs. Lescrimifere did nothing further to show her disapproval of the man of her grand-daughter's choice than to say, somewhat testily, " What do you mean to provide Maud with, in return for the elixir she is always to be conjuring for you ?" " I hope to make her happy," returned Escott, taken aback. *' I don't ask you how," had retorted Mrs. Lescrimifere, "because if she sees you contented she'll be in the seventh heaven ; but be generous, Mr. Escott, do, pray do sometimes remember to be grateful for that said elixir." Mrs. Lescrimifere would have been vastly better pleased had Escott favoured her with the raptures of a young man's love ; but she was mistaken in believing him to be egotistical and cold-blooded. She had the warm tempera- ment of the south, and he the reserved nature of a thorough Briton. Independently of the peculiar ascetic notions above alluded to, he disliked and despised all shows of emotion, almost as much in women, as in men. He considered them, to say the least, tiresome, and he fell into the common error, that a strong expression of feeling was a proof that the feeling itself was superficial. He was, in truth, extremely fond of Maud, but he could not have endured to have that fact passing from lip to lip, universally commented on, universally joked about. The best jokes, or rather the easiest to make, the surest of provokiug a laugh, are they not on the most serious subjects ? He knew that he loved her, and she ought to be sure of that. Is not one heart aware of the tide of feeling rolling to it from another heart without words spoken ? There is a small person who must not be quite over- looked in any description of the inmates of the rectory ; 36 SKIRMISHING grandmamma's darling, papa's pet, eleven years old Carry — Carry of the dove-like eyes, blue eyes ■with large droop- ing lids. Often the mother would call the father to come and look at her asleep. There was always a smile on her face when she slept, as if the " Guardian Angel" (a large engraving representing one, hung at the head of Carry's bed), was speaking pleasant things to her in slumber. Of the rector himself any description may be spared. He is unremarkable in person, would not be out of place in a palace or in a cottage. So moderate in all his views and actions, doing his duty to his parishioners, his neigh- bours, and his family, so much, as a matter of course, having no consciousness of being better or wiser than his fellow-men, that no one supposes him to be so — he is taken at his own estimate. He does not even perceive that he is underrated ; therefore it is of no consequence that he is so. CHAPTER Y. NO MAN OR WOMAN CAN LIVE LONGER AT PEACE THAN NEIGHBOURS WILL LET THEM. EVERY one knows the fable of the sun, the wind, and the traveller. Every one knows the wager between the first and second as to the third, and which won it. Mrs. Brown could not help herself: she was compelled to drop her cloak, impossible to keep it on, under the warmth of attentions from the rectory. Mrs. Lescrimifere and her daughter were both service- able women ; the former needed no particular reason to make her kindly, the latter, the moment she believed she could be of use to any one, became interested in the person. Her prejudice against the Browns was fast changing, under the influence of her belief in Dodge's " oddness," into a predilection for mother and son. Scarcely a day that nurse and the children wore not charged with some commission for the Hatch — a new magazine, or a review, or a plant, or some fruit from the Lot-house. The Hatch was besieged. OUR QUIET DEPENDS UPON OUR NEIGHBOURS. 37 Mrs. Browu had maintained her reserve with the ladies, but it was difficult to resist the innocent confiding familiarity of the children. She began to watch for tho sound of their merry tongues, all going at once, and for the merry patter of their feet on the gravel walk below her windows ; and, after a little, she rarely held out against the tone of disappointment in Carry's voice when she exclaimed, " Mrs. Brown can't see us ; oh ! dear, I am sorry. Mademoiselle, please to tell Ilans so." Mrs. Brown was an object of supreme admiration to these little folks ; they really enjoyed staring at her, their enjoyment made more piquant by a mysterious feeling of curiosity, caught from their elders. Hans, also, with his sugar biscuits and his feather brush, was a mystery and delight. The rectory children vowed he was never seen without the brush. "You can tell when he is in good humour," said Charlie, " for then he carries it upright, like a musket ; when he is out of sorts he trails it after him, just as a fowl does his tail in wet weather ; and I can tell you that Hans scarcely ever speaks but when he is obliged. Mrs. Brown talks to him in German like anything, and how do you think he answers ? Why, by making such funny mouths ; he puts out his lips and pulls them in, and she seems quite to understand him, for she waits till he has done with his faces, and then goes on talking again. He always stays just outside the room door while we are there, and they keep the chain of the front door up, though I have told them there's no fear of thieves here." Charlie despised Dodge as a milksop, when he disco- vered that the young gentleman did not care for ferrets, and knew not how to manage either puppies or pigeons. The smaller boys and girls followed their born leader Charlie, all except Carry, who remained a constant friend to Dodge. The children, having thus made a breach in Mrs. Brown's wall of defence, Mrs. Greatorex one morn- ing, in a nice soft drizzle, made her great attack. Two visitors, a husband and wife, most unexpectedly came to the rectory; two most cruelly unamusing, uuamusable people. They were above or below every thing. They could not talk on politics, or religon, or literature ; on principle they would not play at whist, or ecart^, back 38 SKIRMISHING gammon, draughts, solitaire, squails, croquet, or aunt sally. The gentleman allowed of chess ; but there was no chess-board at the rectory, and, if there had been, no one there knew a bishop from a rook. Mr. Greatorex tired himself to death taking the husband over the church, and explaining that nobody could explain what a certain painted glass window meant, or how it came there, or indeed the church itself; there it was, nobody knew who had built it. This did seem a subject of inter- est to the guest, who, having heard that the Eomans had certainly been in that neighbourhood, though some time ago no doubt, expected to have seen at least concrete bricks — yes, he did confess to an interest in concrete bricks. That same evening Mr. Greatorex fell disgrace- fully asleep in a provokingly comfortable attitude, the visitors sitting bolt upright, unable to keep their eyes from the sleeping figure. It was these perfectly unex- ceptionable friends of the family, who drove Mrs. Great- orex to attempt to coax Mrs. Brown into accepting an invitation to tea, for herself and George. " It will be a doM'nright charity," said Mrs. Greatorex ; " the only diversion that animates my friends is a concert. Poor Maud is willing enough to play ; but they don't con- sider her music worth listening to. It would be so very kind of George to come and give them some of his charm- I can scarcely promise for Goorgey," returned Mrs. Brown. "Oh! I'll manage him," said Mrs. Greatorex, gaily. " I know he won't refuse me." Are people often right in the estimate of their personal influence ? " As for me," continued Mrs. Brown, " I really have no dress for an evening party," and the speaker's lovely clear complexion lost its transparency in a deep flush, produced I)y the struggle between an earnest desire not to accept the invitation, and an unwillingness to be diso- bliging to one who had been now for weeks showing kindly attentions. "Come as you arc, you can't be better," cried the rector's eager lady, "there will be no other ntrangers besides our two guests and Mr. Escott, and you know him. Now, then, we may consider the matter settled, — OUR QUIET DEPENDS UPON OUR NEIGHBOURS. 39 such a relief, most neighbourly of you indeed. If it con- tinues raining, we'll send the brougham for you." And muffling herself in the wraps, in which she ran about the parish on charitable errands, whatever the weather, Mrs. Greatorex hurried home to do that, which we have high authority for stating, is the hardest task one human being can inflict on another — to entertain those who can't be entertained. Now, it so happens that, often when we have obtained our wish, so far from resting satisfied, we constantly begin extending the limits of the same wish, or tacking on to the one with which we commenced other wishes, till the original stuff is so overlaid, we forget what it cost us to obtain our first desire, or how happy we were to have it granted. No sooner, then, had IMrs. Greatorex conquered Mrs. Brown's hesitation, and George's wilfulness, no sooner was she sure of amusement for the evening, than she made good the remark ventured on above. She was in her store-room when one or two extra wishes were hatched ; at the moment, indeed, she was giving out to the cook different articles that were most of them, Pro- teus-like, to change their shapes ere they re-appeared at a charming little supper, to be served at half-past ten that night. The pastry and confectionery, as well as the rectory hospitality, were renowned, and, as Mrs. Great- orex observed to the cook, " she really could not invite Mrs. Brown and her son for the first time to a mere tea and turn out." The cook answered, — " La, 'ra, what a pity to have everything so nice for so few." " So it is, Jane," replied the mistress, and fell into a reverie while opening the coffee canister and other recep- tacles of grocery. Then, presently staring absently at the cook, and speaking half to her, half in soliloquy, — "There's time for Charlie to ride to Belmont and back before three o'clock, and I am sure the Lonsdalcs would be glad to come, and what dilferonce can it make to Mrs. Brown whether she meets two strangers or four." The cook said, " What, indeed, she should like to tnow." Mrs. Greatorex, however, was not the woman first to to SKIRMISHING. do an imprudence, and then defend it. She was not at all one of the common run of her sex, so she consulted — no, so she told the rector what she was inclined to do. " Did you make any promise to Mrs. Brown, that there should be no one else asked, or did she make any condi- tions ?" inquired the husband. "Neither the one nor the other," replied the wife; "she made some excuse about her dress, that was all." "It's a case of conscience, I perceive," said the rector; " you must decide it for yourself, Louisa." Exactly what Mrs. Greatorex had expected him to aay ; now she was on safe ground, she knew what she was about. She had told Mr. Greatorex first, and, come what would, he could not say she had not spoken to him on the subject. And, then, he was not one to exult over the mistakes of his neighbour ; had he been one of those who aggravate one's self-reproach, Mrs. Greatorex would have acted with more circumspection. The ancients worshipped and offered sacrifices to Fear ; on what shrine do ?/;e oftenest lay our obedience in our domestic circles ? Charlie rode off full gallop with a note to Belmont ; he passed George Brown on the way with only a flourish of his whip. Charlie knew, as well as if his mother had confided it to him, that she would not wish the Browns to hear of the invitation to the Lonsdalcs. It's a curious and dangerous faculty that which children and servants have of guessing the secret thoughts and wishes of parents and masters ; if we look well about us for an instance in point, we may remember that e])isode in Henry the Second's life, which has to do with Thomas h Beckett. Before Charlie returned, ^Irs. Greatorex had decided she would be pleased whatever the answer scnj l;y the Lonsdalcs ; whether they came or not, it would be much the same thing, she should have returned f/icir last tca- l)arty, or as Mr. Lonsdale termed it, tea-fight. Charlie was later in coming liome than his mother had expected; he was radiant, he had had a famous game of croquet with two "such jolly girls," and a brother, who were staying at IJclinont. They were all cnniing, to be sure; lie had told them of George Brown's jjlaying. There was Mrs. Lonsdale's note. OUR QUIET DEPENDS UPON OUR NEIGHBOURS. 41 Mrs. Greatorex was vexed. " It's very provoking," she exclaimed. " Only two more ?" said the rector. "Yes, Mr. Greatorex, but two more, and two more make a difference ; men never understand lliese things." Mrs. Browu certainly had understood that the only strangers she should meet was the pair of petrifactions, who needed an Orpheus to animate them; but whatever her surprise, or annoyance, neither sensation appeared in her countenance. All the ladies, excepting Mrs. Les- crimifere, were very fine ; excusable where there were so few opportunities for wearing those best gowns which had to be provided for the one or two annual galas given by the Meml)er's or the Baronet's wife. Mrs. Lonsdale, a bulky woman, of age and features no way remarkable, was only smart in the way of jewellery ; she shone with gold wherever gold could be put : head, arms, neck, fingers, and waist. She and her husband had spent the best years of their life in Australia to some purpose : she was very suggestive of nuggets. The blonde young lady in hard bright blue, the brunette in hard bright maize silk, as they sat side by side, not like twin cherries or twin rosebuds, made the grave gentle- man's eyes water. The grave wife had unaccountable fringes dangling from unaccountable places, and even Mrs. Greatorex, though she carried off her finery with the air of a small queen, could have spared much of it, and the loss been a gain. Maud, not being responsible for her adornment, it shall be passed over in friendly silence. The little girls in short white frocks and long white stockings, pocket-handkerchief between finger and thumb, sat demurely on a settee, flanked by their little brothers in tunics, and belts, and knickerbockers. Charlie play(Hl the man, stretching his neck to look on a par with the Oxonian, the brother of the grown-up young ladies in blue and maize. The gentlemen, that is, Mr. Lonsdale, the unamusable guest, and Mr. Greatorex, stood on the rug, with their backs to tlie chimney. They were all grave as judges ; in country parsonages people don't dasli into any or all subjects, or make recklessly free with facts or persons. No, whatever is said, is said without that leaning to 4* 42 SKIRMISHING. pleasantry or wit, -which might end in what Solomon compares to the crackling of thorns. In great societies, wit is everything, truth nothing ; in small ones, the same results are arrived at, but differently. Escott, who had a horror of even harmless country tittle-tattle, had with- drawn into his favorite place, the hollow of the curve of the grand jjiano, with a book in his hand — a shallow pre- tence, used as a shield from conversation ; he saw and heard all that went on in every part of the room. Mrs. Brown was in the seat of honour, George behind her, in a recess. The silence that followed the Browns' arrival was like that described in the libretto of Le Dh- sert — to be seen and heard. Every one was scrutinizing Mrs. Brown, who in her plain black silk dress, looked something like a portrait by Vandyke, surrounded by pictures from a fashion-book. The grave lady wore an air of hostility — the look which generally welcomes a new arrival among men or beasts. Mrs. Ijonsdale's sharp small blue eyes became suspicious as well as curious. Mrs. Lonsdale had for twenty years needed to be on her guard, and habits are not easily broken. From the grave gentleman's face cleared away something of its fractious expression. Mr. Lonsdale, a tall, thin, handsome man (who, by-lhe-by, was addicted to the utterance of .^hort, unconnected sentences), desirous of notice, grew fidgety. Tea was got over in the long summer twilight ; when lamps and candles were brought, Mrs. Greatorex per- suaded the blonde and the hrnne to favour tlic company with a duet. The young hulies managed to accomplish one after the various common accidents on such occa- sions, such as i'alse starts, &:c., Szq. Mrs. Greatorex had, in the meantime, been whispering to every one what a treat was in store fur them in young Brown's ])laying. One must luivc lived in the dei)ths of the country to ap- preciate the full value of a novelty at a tea-drinking. George, however, liung back, both sulky and shy — a new phase, indeed, of his mental state. The excess of disap- ])fiiiit7nent visible in the face of the rector's wife, and tlic despair in lier voice, moved Mrs. Brown to remonstrate with George. He yielded, though with a l)ad grace ; all his saucincss had vanished; instead of his rpiick little OUR QUIET DEPENDS UPON OUR NEIGHBOURS. 43 step, he shuffled along to the piano with crimson flushed cheeks. "What an odd-looking boy," exclaimed Mrs. Lonsdale to the grave lady by whom she was seated ; " and what a theatrical dress — preposterous for a lad of that age." " The mother mu.st do it to make people think he is younger than he is," answered the grave lady. "What age do you suppose her to be?" asked Mrs. Lonsdale. " Mr. Lonsdale says one can never tell a woman's age by candle-light. I wonder what she can do?" "Do?" repeated the grave lady, adding, senten- tiously, " what does any pretty woman need to do but let herself be admired ?" George had been preluding with a little hesitation ; he now played, and astonished his hearers as much as Mrs. Greatore.x could have desired. " Depend on it," remarked the grave lady, " those people are professional. I know what playing is : my husband and I attend every concert in London during the season, and no one will ever make me believe that's amatuer playing," and the grave lady crossed her legs in an offended manner. Mrs. Lonsdale, having no appropriate speech of Mr. Lonsdale's to quote, was silent, uncertain whether the grave lady's speech meant censure or praise ; for, as far as she was concerned, she did not know " Kule Britan- nia," save by the words, from " Partant pour la Syrie." " I cannot let you get up yet," said Mrs. Greatorex to George. " Just once more — any thing you like — it is such a very great treat." George had recovered his sang-froid and petulance, and, Math them, the command of his fingers ; he played an Italian air so exquisitely, with such thrilling power, that Escott felt his heart pierced by the notes, and tears filled his eyes. The grave town lady gave the colonial one a significant side glance, and whispered. " Tell me that's a private performer, indeed !" When George left the piano and the Oxonian took his place, favouring the company with Negro songs, the whole party woke up to life. That was the great suc- cess of the evening, aurea mediocritas. Every one 44 SKIRMISHING. understood what was doing. Accident often accom- plishes more for us than foresight. It was not Ukely that Escott should have forgotten the voice he had stopped to listen to in passing the Hatch. During the evening he went with Mrs. Great- orex to beg Mrs. Brown to sing. " I played the eavesdropper once," he said ; " I will tell you even what I heard you sing, — ' E segreto per esser feli-ce.' " Mrs. Brown grew very red, and said, earnestly, and curtly — " I never sing to any one now ; I could not, indeed ; pray drop the subject." It was so evidently a disagreeable one, that to press the request further would have been uncourteous. After the Lonsdales and their guests were gone, Es- cott managed to get near George, who, imtil the Oxo- nian's departure, was not to be lured out of the corner behind his mother. " It is long," said the curate, " since I have had such a treat as your playing." " AVell, pcrhai)s it is a shade better than Larry Earle's squeaking on the fiddle," answered George, with mock gravity. He continued, — "I have such fun at Johr. Earle's on Sunday evenings. I set them to sing psalms^ iind it is so droll. I wish you would come and hear them, wouldn't it make you die of laughing." Dodge was dressed in a loose black velvet tunic, with a belt round his waist, and as the young scapegrace looked up roguishly in Escott's face, something in the attitude of the two figures reminded Mrs. Lescrimifere of one of (Javarni's sketches of the Carnival, — that one in which the girl, disguised as a boy, says to her com- panion, Je t'nnti'pafhe. Mrs. Lescrimiferc very nearly lauglicd aloud. The grave pair retired to their room as soon as Mrs. Brown and George were gone, and the family were at liberty to talk over the evening. As regarded Mrs. Brown's beauty, there was entire unanimity— entire unanimity also as to her looking too young to lie tlio mother of Dodge. Escott, who liad been pacing up and down the room OUR QUIET DEPENDS UPON OUR NEIGHBOURS. 45 a custom of his when in an intimate domestic circle, said with an animation that astonished Maud, — " The lady's quiet gi'ace is charming, and in my opin- ion more uncommon still than her beauty. It is the stranger," he added, " that she has not taught her son better mamiers." " I am more convinced than ever," said Mrs. Great- orex, " that the boy is not quite right in his mind, and she, poor thing, does her best, by not thwarting him, to prevent people from taking notice of his odd ways." "You may be right," said Escott, "though for my part, I think the young fellow more knave than fool." " You are tenacious of first impressions, I must say," observed Mrs. Lescrimifere. " To others. Dodge, as the children call him, seems merely somewhat silly, idle, and headstrong, not very different from many other boys left to a mother's sole management. The mother inter- ests me far more than her son ; she gives me the idea of a person imder a spell ; makes me think of the lady in Comus, or a nymph turning gradually into stone — of something neither living nor dead; something pagan, something supernatural." " Grandmamma, you make my flesh creep !" said Mr. Greatorcx. " It's very naughty of you to frighten us, after having led us, perhaps, mto the scrape of consort- ing with a Pixsie, or a Nixie, or " " No, no," interrupted Mrs. Lescrimifere, quite gravely, pre-occupied with her own thoughts. " I'll tell you what she looks to me, — what nobody else ever gave me the slightest conception of, — the impersonation of that ter- rible fable of a person, with a sword suspended over his head by a thread." " Dear grandmamma," said Mr. Greatorex, " which of us is not living under the suspended sword of an un known destiny? It's not right, nevertheless, to spoil the present by vain conjectures as to the past or the future. 'Let little joys refresh us,' says a wise man; and see how gloomy we all are, instead of rejoicing over a pleasant evening, during which, thanks to the Browns, no one has gone to sleep. Now, Escott, away with you, or you'll get into certain trouble with your land- lady." 46 SKIRMISHING. CHAPTER VI. THE LOST SHEEP. TWO fields behind the schoolhouse of Eden, is a tolera- bly high mound, surrounded by water. This rising ground goes by the sounding title of the Castle Hill, and is in all seriousness believed to have been a Roman forti- fication belonging to the period when, according to tradition, Julius Caesar planted nettles in the neighbour- hood to keep his soldiers warm. Tradition is silent as to how this was accomplished ; one thing is positive — the nettles all around Eden have the same air of grandeur as other Roman remains, and are equally enduring also. The table-land of Castle Hill is covered thickly with tall fir-trees ; the banks, sloping rapidly down to the water, are overgrown with a tangle of brush-wood, with here and there a willow-tree seeking the water ; a famous place in spring for primroses and wild anemones, and a sight to take the trouble to go to, when the hyacinths are in bloom. All below the fir-trees 'tis — "Blue as if the sky let fall Flowers from its cerulenn ■wall." As for the water, the willows searched for it with the perseverance of love, for it lay hidden (at least close to the foot of the mound) by tall sedges, with leaves like lances, and white flowers stained with purple; while on the side ne.xt the field it was covered with dark, glossy, small-leafed cress. , The rectory children were forbidden to play by themselves anywhere near this species of moat ; it was a dangerous place even in summer, when the water was comi)arativcly shallow ; for along its bed trailed long-armed weeds, and it was, besides, full of holes. In winter, swelled by the rains and the influx of many small tributaries, it became a deep, sullen, swifts flowing river, and at one point, where its bank had been purposely narrowed, it rushed impetuously into the mill- Btrcam. After having been to the school to give a lesson in THE LOST SHEEP. 4t geography, Escott passing through the Castle Hill field, came suddenly upon young Brown lying on the grass by the side of the water. He was in a half-reclining atti- "tude, leaning on his elbow. He might have easily heard Escott's steps, but he never turned his head. The curate stopped, and something in the smallness and childishness of the figure he was looking at made him exclaim, " Ridiculous !" half aloud, as he thought of his own ill- will and resentment to such a mere boy. It was one of those hot summer days, which subdues all nature except man. The leaves of the trees are lan- 'guidly silent, the birds do not sing, the cows hide their sides in the longest grass they can find, and the sheep lie under every ragged thornbush. Escott, passing close to where Dodge lay, stooped to see if he were asleep. " Wide awake, Mr. Escott," said Dodge, without mov- ing. " I am listening to the water." "You must be Fine Ear himself, if you catch any sound of its sluggish course," observed Escott, suspicious that the lad was trying to mislead him. " You would not say so, if you were to sit quietly by me for a while," returned Dodge. Escott sat down, out of curiosity. " Listen," went on Dodge, " and you will hear all sorts of pretty little noises. I can hear the click of the winged insects darting in and out among the leaves." The curate and the boy sat silent for a little, Escott puzzled by this sympathy with nature, in one whose habits had appeared to him so wanting in refinement. For the first time he took a good look of Dodge. Another puz- zle : this creature whom some thought crazy, and he him- self had stigmatized as knavish, struck him at that moment as having one of the most remarkable and pecu- liar countenances he had ever seen. 'J'he eyes were like those of his mother, only bright to an incredible degree ; indeed his whole face, transfigured by the ecstasy of his enjoyment, looked to Escott as though it were some transparent vase illuminated from within. "You don't hear musical sounds? I do," murmured Dodge, " like tiny harps. How sweet it all is ! Don't you feel as if »your heart were growing bigger and bigger, 4S SKIRMISHING. too big to stay in your body ? I do ; oh ! if I had wings to go up into that beautiful blue !" While Escott was listening, gazing and wondering, Dodge threw aside his cap, and, as ho did so, a ray of sunshine, flickering through the opposite trees, fell trem- ulously on his fair curls, turning them to the hue of gold. Was this really George Brown, that mischievous, tire- some sprite, or was Escott dreaming ? Before the curate got further in his conjectures, Dodge softly touched his arm, whispering, " Look there, at that beauty ;" and pointed to one of those gossamer insects with diaphanous blue and gold wings which was darting round and round George's head, as if sensible of his admiration. " How is it tliat you love nature so much, and the God who made it so little ?" asked Escott. The light faded from out of Dodge's face ; it took its usual hue of i)allor. "J low do you know what I feel ? 1 have never told you," said Dodge, with a proud, almost disdainful gesture of the head; then suddenly smiling, he added, "I am no worse, am I. than the birds and the flowers and the butter- flics? you don't lliink it wrong in them to enjoy the little time Ihey have to live, do you '?" There wore curiously caressing tones in the boy's voice which troubled Escott; he did not like to feel tiiat he was inclined to lie indulgent to the speaker; anytliing aj)- proaching to indulgence on this sul)ject was temporizing with actual wrong, so he said gravely, " God, in endowing human beings with the faculties to perceive and reflect on the wonders of His creation, ha.s in a manner given tliem a ladder to mount towards Him self, and " "Oh! don't, there's a good man, begin to sermonize and spoil my pleasure," interrupted George. " I was really very ha]ipy." Escott wdiilij have despised himself had he not i)er- sisted. " But I wish to increase your happiness." D(((lg(> here gave a low whistle. Escott got up. "Now I have oll'ended you," said Dodge. "I did not mean to d.o so. You vox me first, and then 1 vex you THE LOST SHEEP. 49 it is very odd how uucorafortable people always are together." " 1 am not vexed," said Escottin a tone that belied the assertion. " I cannot stay here any longer, I have a long walk before me." "Where are you g^pg?" asked Dodge, in atone of curiosity. " I am on my way to Dunleuce Wood, to seek for a rather rare flower." " A flower ? what is it like ? Perhaps I know it," said Dodge, " and can toll you where to find it." "Not probable, as I have for two summers sought in vain for a perfect specimen. It is a flower with three petals spreading out something like a wild rose ; it grows la shady places where there's moss." " I should like to see it. May I go with you ?" "Better not, it's not safe to do so without thick gaiters ; for the brown-striped adder often lies under its leaves, and is so like the ground it is not easily seen." " No, then 1 shan't try : I am horribly afraid of snakes ;" and Dodge perceptibly shuddered. " I suppose you want the flower for Miss Maud ? does she know you have to go among snakes to get it ?" " It is for myself," said Escott, stiffly. " And what's the name ?" asked Dodge. " Pyrola Rotundifolium." "What may that be in English? I don't understand Latin." Irritated by the off-hand way Dodge had questioned him, quite as if he had a right so to do, Escott's indulgent feelings of ten minutes ago vanished, and he answered sharply, " It would be better if, instead of idling about, you did study the Latin grammar : ask Charlie Greatorex to teach you ; ignorance is neither creditable nor agreeable at your age," and then the curate turned on his heel, without wait- ing to see the eflect of his reproof, lie could not so easily rid himself of the recollection as of the presence of Mas- ter Dodge. " Strange fitful boy, so repulsive at one mo- ment, at iuiolhcr almost — " Escott's thoughts halted before it added. •• attractive ;" he could find no other word. "And the mother, another enigma. Beautiful as she was, it was 50 SKIRMISHING. difficult to say whether the sensation she gave was not rather one of curiosity than of pleasure ; probably the mountain will bring forth a mouse, and we shall find out the cause of her retirement and reserve to be a very pro- saic one. In this age there are no sorcerers or witches to fear the faggot : on the contrary, mediums and spirits are in vogue : by-the-bye, that boy might be " Here Eiscott, nearly at the top of the field, was dis- turbed by a shout of his name, followed by a child's scream. He turned and saw Dodge stooping over the water, and a little boy by his side, wringing his hands. Escott ran back to see what had happened. " Make haste," cried Dodge, as soon as the curate waj within hearing, and stamping with impatience : " here's t poor lamb tumbled into the moat — widow Smith's lamb Do come fast." Dodge and the small shepherd had tried to hook ouC the poor animal, a half-grown sheep, with sticks, but i* had got fairly caught by some of the long-armed weeds of the muddy bed. " There's nothing to be done but to go after it," said Escott. He took off his coat and stepped into the water ; it was deeper than he had expected, far above his knees ; however, he reached the so-called lamb, and extricated it 'rom the net of withes in which it had been caught. " I dhall get out easier with the beast, if I go lower down," said Escott, " where it is narrower." " No, no, don't," exclaimed Dodge ; " this child says it's very deep there. Come back, do, Mr. Escott ; indeed you had better." " Nonsense," returned Escott to these entreaties, and. with the lamb in his arms, began to wade. " I declare you look like the pictures of St. John," cried Dodge. " Never mind what I am like, but reach or throw me that child's long stick." The weeds and Escott's weight were too much for the stick : it l)roki', and the curate only saved himself from nn awkward fall, by such a violent jerk of liis person backwards, and a snatch at the sedges, that Dodge could not restrain a laugh. The poor lamb was once more iu the water. THE LOST SHEEP. 51 " Ob ! pick it up, pick it up, please, sir," implored the little shepherd, beginning to blubber at the ominous frown on Escott's brow, caused by young Brown's untimely laugh. No man particularly enjoys being in an awkward position before witnesses, and Escott was among the most sensitive to ridicule. IJe made no answer to the entreaty, but waded again after the lamb, and this time, instead of approaching the bank on which the two boys were stand- ing, he made for the narrow outlet. They ran to meet him, Dodge carrying Escott's coat. As soon as the curate was near enough to the edge, he put down the lamb on the grass, scrambled out without appearing to notice the hand Dodge held out to him, taking his coat with a dry " thank you." The first thing the little shepherd did on seeing his lamb safe, was to give it a good blow. " You do that again," said Dodge, " and I'll throw your sheep back into the water ; take care, for I'll watch," and then Dodge ran after Escott, who had walked on without any ceremony of leave-taking. " Are you not going for the flower?" asked Dodge. " Not very possible, in this pickle," replied Escott, who was all slime and mud up to his knees. " And there are always adders near that flower ?" per- sisted Dodge. " I can't say, always ; but frequently." "And do people die of the bite, Mr. Escott?" " Seldom ; it depends on the state of the blood, but the bitten limb swells." " I once read a German story," said Dodge, " about a young man who could not be happy without going in search of some blue flower he had seen in his dreams. He met with all sorts of adventures I know, just as you did to-day, in saving the lamb." "What with his questions and his rambling talk George Brown was as vexing to Escott as a fly buzzing about his ears ; he had twenty minds to do to him what he would have done to the fly, — flap him away, if not with his handkerchief, with some more candid than polite rejoinder. But while striving against this inclination, the tormentor exclaimed, "We must run, there's a heavy shower coming." 52 SKIRMISHING. True enough : the sky was cloudlessly bright before them, but behind, great purple black clouds were rolling up quickly. Dodge went on, " Don't they look like those terrible genii who come out of a box, and spread and spread till you cannot see the end of them ?" Escott did not think it worth while to answer, and Dodge, looking in his face, could not mistake the meaning of its expression ; therefore, though he continued to walk in a line with Escott, he did not again speak, not until, as they Avere crossing the Lea, a distant growl of thunder was quickly followed by a tolerably loud clap ; then Dodge said, " Had we not better go under the trees ?" He had come close to the curate's side ; there was such a real fear in the voice that Escott glanced at the boy — he was white as paper. " Don't you know it is very dangerous to take shelter beneath trees in a thunder-storm ? they arc conductors of lightning. We must keep in the open ground." Another smart clap, then a loud crash, which made Dodge cling to Escott's arm. The curate said, as if to himself, ''God thundereth marvellously with his voice; great things doeth He which we cannot comprehend." WhtMi the storm had rolled away, Escott said, " Did you over hear tliose words before ?" " No, but you know already that I am very ignorant, Mr. Escott." The boy's head was turned so that Escott could not sec he was looking sad. " They are from a book 1 suspect you have studied very little," said Escott, severely enough; "a book written equally for the ignorant as the wise. T mean tlic Bible ;" and, as lie liiiislied speaking, he iiiade a motion which ri-inindod Dodge to drop tlie arm'he had sei/.od in his fri;;ht and was still holding. " You should try to strengthen your nerves," added the curate. When they reached the turning that led to the Hatch, Dod^-c i)o]it('!y asked lOscott to come home with liim and have his clothes dried. Escott j)0Hitivcly declined, saying he iirelerrcd goiug on to liis own lodgings. Just as they were parting, one of the school children THE PYROLA. 53 came running to Escott to tell him that Betsy Curtis was dying, and crying to see him. Escott turned at once to retrace some of the road he had just traversed. George Brown stood watching him till he was out of sight. CHAPTER VII. THE PYROLA. SITTING for hours, as he had done, in his wet clothes, while soothing Betsy Curtis's last hours in this world, had given Escott a severe feverish cold. Hitherto, Escott, a really excellent man, has not in these pages appeared in a pleasant light. For the real character of the curate, we must apply to the poor, the sick, the sorrow-stricken. They will tell you he never spares him- self, nor his purse, and by sick beds he is as gentle as a woman, ay, indeed, and will sit up night after night with any one, enemy or friend, if he thinks he can be of benefit or comfort. " Do you see that man ?" said the largest butcher of Z , pointing out Escott to a new customer. "He ain't over above well dressed, is he — his coat ain't new, nor his hat ? Well — you'd take him for a poor gentle- man — that man gives away, to my knowledge, five pounds a week to the poor. No fear of his example being followed ; but he'll get through the eye of the needle if any do." John Earl stood up for church and state, and nothing to do " with the Romans and their hosts," and conse- quently disapproved of the evening services on Saints* days, which Escott always performed. Nevertheless. John never used his influence to prevent the people attending those services after working hours. " It keeps the pence in their pockets," affirmed John Earl, " and that's one of the best miracles a Saint can work." The secret of Escott's influence in the parish was, that men saw that he was in earnest; they might think him severe, but they felt he was genuine. This is what makes a man a leader among his fellows. 54 SKIRMISHING. " Sweetness in temporal matters is deceitful ; it is a labour and a perpetual fear ; it is a dangerous pleasure, ■whose beginning is without providence, and whose end is not without repentance." Laying these words of St. Augustine to heart, (Escott studied the works of the early Fathers of the church,) the curate imposed fasts on his heart as well as on his body, and his keen sensibili- ties, curbed and cramped, revenged themselves by turn- ing a little acid ; and now we have the origin of that grain of harshness which marred the perfection of his character. Among the many essential difiFerences between town and country, is the anxiety country feels in the health of its neighbours. In a rural parish, an invalid, whether gentle or simple, forms a nucleus of interest. He or she is the topic, the only topic ; every one goes to inquire who can, and those who cannot insist on having a bulletin somehow. When, for instance, Mr. Breffet, the clerk, was laid up with a sprained foot, all the family at the rectory visited him daily, sent him newspapei-s, and coddled him as if he had been a pet child instead of a tall, gaunt man, who took a gloomy view of the affairs of this world and the ucKt. Imagine, then, the commotion in Eden when it was known that Mr. Escott could not ofliciate on Sunday. Mr. Breflet had it from Mr. Escott's own lips, and experienced as Mr. Breffet was as to Mr. Escott, " a man," he would say, " as never giv' in as long as he'd a leg to Stan' on," it was Mr. Brellet's opinion Mr. Escott must be in a bad way. " That voice now of his — where did one ever hear the like of it? — was enough for any man of observation to tell one all could not be right with Mr. Escott." Mrs. Breffet's prominent eyes and those of her five (laughters, Amelia, llosina, Philippa, Eleanora, and Sil)i'lla, (BrefTct was popularly bcliovccl to be a greater rcnidcr than rector or curate,) avoII, all those six ])air of prominent eyes filled with tears at this opinion of their I'ltpe. 'J'he elder girls, a usual case, worsliipix-d the handsome grave curate; the most disinterostotl of wor- ships, considering that they were delighted to liavo hira connected with Eden through his marriage with Mis3 THE PYK.OLA. 55 Aiaud. They should not altogether lose him. The parish churchwarden, the very head and front of the opposition in the vestry meetings, alarmed by Mr. Breflet's report, went in person to inquire for the curate. The rector's churchwarden and prime minister, not satisfied with inquiring, asked to see Mr. Escott. When told he might go in, Stephen Amos slipped off his thick shoes, and put- ting on a pair of yellow leather slippers, went on tip-toe into Escott's sitting-room. " Well, sure, sir, I'm glad to see you looking not so bad," said Amos, in the subdued voice he thought befitted the occasion. " I hcerd now you wer' very bad." " I dare say BrefTet has been looking out for a sung lying for me in the churchyard," said Escott; "but sit down, Stephen, and tell me all the news." Stephen laughed, such a laugh, a whisper of a laugh, like the noise children make when, with fast-clasped hands, they hit their knee, and cry, " Don't you hear the honey chink ?" " Thank you, sir," began Amos, sitting down uncom- fortably on the corner of a chair, a tacit acknowledgment of his superior's condescension ; " I hope not so bad as that yet, sir, but now, Mr. Escott, d'ye see, I have a book, I bought a lot, I'm sure I can't tell why, at old Sir Henry's sale, and when I brought 'em home I didn't know whatever to do with 'em, not I," here another of Stephen's laughs. "But, says I, as I hev' been and bought 'em, I may as well see what's in 'em, and that's how I came on one written by Agrippi; perhaps, sir, now, you may know what King Agrippa that waS ?" And Stephen, a hand on each knee, looked like one well pleased to have given another a hard nut to crack. " I am only familiar with one King Agrippa," said Escott, keeping his countenance, " and that's the Agrippa before whom St. Paul defended himself." " See that, now, if I didn't hit on the same," exclaimed the delighted carpenter ; " says I to my wife, ' Haryct, it must be King Agrippa, hun as was almost a Chris- tian.' " " I don't say that the King Agrippa of the Acts, and your author are one and the same," said Escott, " how- ever, let me hear what your book is about." 56 SKIRMISHING. " Now, sir, that's what I am coming to it's full ol conjuring and what not, and I lights on a /ecipe for a cold, and says I, ' Perhaps it maybe worth trying, seeing it be such an old one ;' this is it, sir," and Stephen read from a page of his memorandum book, " Take yoimg ash leaves, and dry 'em and pound 'era to dust, mix 'em with honey and adder's fat, and it's a infallible cure for lung complaints." " Thank you, Stephen, but the prescription does not persuade me." " I can't say I think much of it myself, sir ; but I thought as how I'd mention it." "I should like to see that book, Stephen, will you bring it to me ?" " So I will, sir; so I will," returned Amos, recovering from a temporary mortification. " But now. Mr. Escott, if you've no objection, I'll just do young Mr. Brown's commission," and opening the door just sufficiently to put his mouth and chin through, the carpenter called to Mrs. Slater to be so good as to hand him that 'ere trug.* Shutting the door as carefully as he had opened it, Ste- phen i)resented to Escott's astonished eyes a beautiful specimen of the Pyrola, one flower open; the whole plant had 1)(>en taken up carefully by the root. "Hiiw(lit when on her first visit to London ; that within six montjis of her marriage, this luisband disappeared— that she lias never been able to trace liiin— never lias known what became of liim. It appears that she waited some years, CHIAROSCURO. G5 and then married the baker Jonathan Gilbert, and what is the strang:cst of all, never seems troubled by any mis- givings of licr first husband's turning up, and the possi- ble conseq\iences to her." " And what would they be ?" asked Mrs. Brown. " I don't exactly know, whether there is a legal term for a man or woman's patience in waiting for their lost partner — but the law I believe is more lenient to a woman than to a man who conmiits bigamy. Mrs. Gilbert's case surely would be treated lightly — for she has been more sinned against than sinning. It is not like a case where a woman's happiness has been wrecked." " George," said Mrs. Brown, " Mr. Escott is very fond of music, go and play." "It was past eleven when the curate left the Hatch. His feelings were mixed ones as he pursued his way to his lodgings ; he had been pleased, displeased, then pleased again. Pleasure being the last emotion, was uppermost, and he was inclined to be merciful in his judgment of mother and son. " They have accepted shining fallacies for truth," mused he. " She has acquiesced in them because she was attached to the person who uttered them, the origin of most women's convictions — as for the poor boy, the grain of millet has been given to hun, instead of the diamond." The more Escott thought, the more impelled he felt to take some steps to bring Dodge to an understanding of the truth. It was a duty that lay straight in his path as a minister of the gospel ; he must neither shirk it from personal disinclination, nor blink it out of deference to the opinions of the father, as quoted by Mrs. Brown. And with this resolution Escott laid his head upon his pillow, and " sleep covered him with its cloak." e» 66 SKIRMISHING. CHAPTER IX. "the little rift." f E SCOTT had gone to sleep with the best mtentions. Let none of us, however, depend on the goodness of our intentions for keeping us clear of trouble or blame. Even should they not turn to paving stones down below, they are apt to form a very rough road for us here above. If our actions admit of two suppositions, we must submit to the necessity of the least pleasant being the one ac- cepted and adopted ; people always do, whatever the matter in doubt, be it love or war, or fortune or travelling, make choice of the most disagreeable hypothesis, to dwell upon. And of all those, who despair most of mankind's rectitude, who see naught but vanity and vexation in their neighbors' doings, commend me to a country gossip, male or female. It's no business of his or hers, and yet see, what watchings liy day, and by night — what wearied limbs and senses belong to such an individual. His or her inquisitive mind forces its way, even where eyes cannot see, or cars liear. Eden would not have been complete without its gossip, and it possessed a rare one. ]5efore ten o'clock the next morning, Maud knew that Mr. Escott had entered the Hatch at half-past four the day before, and remained thereuntil within an hour of midnight; knew that Mr. Escott had greatly enjoyed liiniself, and walked back as brisk as needs be to his lodgings — quite another man, one might say, to what lie had been in the morning. Bits out of real life, sound strangely exaggerated to inexperienced or unobserving jjcrsons — and yet who so happy as never to liave heard tliat formula, " It is said." Maud hearing this agreeable account of her betrothcd's health, liad a sudtlen curittus r|ualm ; it was just as if a black somctbiiig liad been held before bcr eyes, shutting out the l)less('(i siglit of day. Some iiisliiict, as strong as tliat of self-preservation in women, helj)ed Jier to main- tain a sliow of calmness, so long as slie was face to face with her informaut. She witlistood the strange and new "the little rift." 6t sensation which made her long to throw aside the work she was at that particular instant preparing for the school children, and which was indeed certain items of her trousseau. Maud had begun her preparations be- times, as she wished that every article that could be made in Eden should be made in Eden; it would be pleasant to think hereafter, that all that beautiful hem- ming and stitching had been done for her by friendly fingers. At last the gossip had carried away the cambric and lawn, and Maud might follow her inclination. She hid herself in her o^^ti room ; if Maud had done wrong herself, she could not have been more anxious to hide. She was sore and sad, she said in her heart, " that to be with him at any time, still more so, when they had been a fortnight separated, she would not have minded the noise of forty children, or the bustle of the General Post Office at six in the evening." Maud somehow thought of a picture she had seen representing that peculiar scone. Yery odd combinations of memory and ideas crowd upon one, in moments of trouble. Then arose an ardent desire that no one else in the house should know that Escott had dined at the Hatch, after refusing to do so at the rectory. We can better bear a grief to be handled, tlian a wound to our self-love ; so sincere was this feeling in Maud, that she at last came to the decision that she should not her- self much mind the crime, so that no one else was aware it had been committed. While thus cogitating, a little pebble struck her win dow ; she was pretty certain whose hand had thrown it : and suddenly she had her first, very first impulse to louder. Another pebble, hitting harder. Maud got up from her chair, opened the window and made a poor show of not guessing who had taken the liberty of claiming her attention so unceremoniously. Escott looked up, and waved to her to come down, with the im- perial gesture of a man who knows he is despotic monarch of the heart of the young lady at the window. lie had made his own reflections that morning, and felt that Maud and her family had some right to find fault with him, if they should hear that, refusing their invitation, he had afterwards accepted one from Mrs. Brown. Escott 68 SKIRMISHING. SO reflecting, bad set off to go and tell his own tale and confess to Maud that he was too apt to let trifles put him out of sorts. Escott and Maud had never had any of those " fallings out," which are the dulcamara of courtship ; yet Maud began this first one, as well as the greatest adept could have done. She walked majestically down the stairs; slowly, to the very last step, in spite of innocent Carry's hastening cry of, "Maud, Maud, don't you know ; Walter is in the garden !" Instead of the little hurrying trot, that had not an atom of dignity in it, this day Maud went to meet the curate with a full recollection of how to manage the goose-step so insisted on by drill sergeant Taterson — very upright she was, and in her slimncss and her auda- cious disregard of a hoop, looking wonderfully like the figure of the girl in Millais' picture of the Huguenot ; her eyes though, were not raised full of unspeakable love to the waiting lover. Escott understood what had happened; he thought he had never seen Maud look so piquantc ; it was his turn this morning to hasten to her. Had the smoothness of his course of love palled on him, that Maud's pouting so re-animatcd him ? well, everything in nature shows a dis- taste of monotony ; not two leaves on a tree alike— not the skies of two following days. "Maud!" he exclaimed, taking both her hands in his; she did not withdraw the pretty little dimpled hands, but she let them lie passively in his, as well as if she had done the same a hundred times before. But the voice of one who is loved is as potent over a heart as Joshua's trumpet 6'ver the walls of Jericho : three times Escott said, "Maud !"' smiling inwardly at the way the wavering colour in her check, and the obstinately downcast lid, betrayed that she was all but conquered. At the third summons she looked up ; he met her eyes, and watched the coming l)ack into them, of all tlioir usual joy and tenderness at sight of him. When he had seen that, he said, " Now, I insist on plenary absolution before confes- sion. T am very generous in tlius insisting, for otherwise you would have no merit." •' J'.iit 1 have made no accusation," began Maud, true to "the little rift." G9 lier sex, who cannot forgive half so well when asked, as unasked. " No accusation I" repeated Escott; "eyes, lips, feet, from the top of this little head to the sole of that little foot, you were one formal accusation against Walter Escott. H'm ! hasn't the second curate been here this morning ?" Second curate was the name John Earl had given to that wide-awake person, who overlooked the spiritual and temporal goings on of the Edenites. "And, didn't she tell you, how this your prisoner," and Escott put his arm within Maud's and walked her off across the lawn, through the golden sunshine to a more discreet distance from the rectory windows, " how this your prisoner dared to appease his hunger at the Hatch after saying you nay ?" " It was so silly of me," said Maud, viewing the matter with her arm squeezed against Escott's heart, quite dif- ferently from when she was having that disagreeable tite-dUete with herself in her own room. " Well ! I shall not dispute my judge's sentence," said Escott, resuming his supremacy; " and now that you are not angry " " Oh ! Walter," she interrupted, " angry is going too far." " What shall I call the feeling that made you hold up your head so becomingly ?" Maud said it was " only being a little put out," not anger, nor anything near anger ; she protested she did not want, she did not wish, she could not bear explana- tions — " pray don't, Walter, or I shall believe you think me very mean and foolish." "A truce to explanation then," as if he ,Avere very magnanimous ; it is alwaj-s so; the position the one gen- eral retires from, the other takes up. " But you won't refuse to hear my story." And Escott most conscientiously related how and why he had called at the Hatch ; how, being tired, he had lazily sat on ; how Mrs. Brown had not taken any pains to entertain him — he dwelt on that point ; — and how, when the old German had announced dinner, he had been so surprised it seemed almost a necessity that he should stay. He added that he had made an excellent dinner and should have left early, but for that odd boy. 70 SKIRMISHING. " He must bo a musical genius — his playing works on my feelings in a way no other music ever did. He makes the piano sing." "What did he play? Beethoven? That's the most difficult of all to play well," said Maud, whose idea of fine playing was the doing of that which she herself could not accomplish. " He did not say ; but whoever the composer, I know now, that music has a language transcending any I ever heard spoken." Escott was a little while silent, his own words had recalled some of the sounds which had so charmed him the night before, and some also of his own sensations. He started when Maud asked, " And what do you think of Mrs. Brown ?" " What I suppose every one must tliink — that she is beautiful, well-educated, and agreeable." " Did she say anything which made you understand why they came hei'C ?" " Not a word. After all, probably the reason she gave or implied to your mother is the true one — the health of her sou." " Then you are now reconciled to Mrs. Brown," said Maud, in a half-questioning tone. " I have not yet made up my mind," he answered smil- ing; "she is lady-like and pleasant, as I said before, and she has a charm one linds in few men or women : she speaks more of things than of persons. By and by, Maud, that's one of the rules we'll make and keep in our house." Maud's answer sounded as if she had no wish to follow Mrs. Brown's example. " That would be difficult in a clergyman's house, Walter." "We'll have special hours then for sitting in judg- ment, and after that — a forfeit for every name that is named." Iteconciliations show us the love that is in our own and others' hearts much as a magic lantern does the picture wliich it projects on a wall — making it seem for a moment larger and l)rigliti'r tlian tlic reality. Ileconciliations are pleasant, cortiiinly — yet they have a bitter sourer, and sometimes the after-taste smacks more of the origin than ONE TALE IS GOOD, TILL ANOTUER'S TOLD. 71 of the offspring. Let us see what Maud's sip of the dulcamara of peace-making did for her. It taught her no longer to go through the day placidly ; able to give her whole interest to the book she was reading, or the flowers she was cultivating, hapi)y when he came, not unhappy when he went, knowing that the morrow would bring him back. But now, often she did not understand what she read, or hear what was said to her ; she grew breathless for his coming, as one who doubts and fears. Maud's heart had been as tranquil as an unruffled lake — it was no longer a clear mirror; it was all rippling now with wavelets of quickened feelings. CHAPTER X. ONE TALE IS GOOD, TILL ANOTHER'S TOLD. EDEN, in these pages, has appeared as entirely cut off from general society, save for the infirm, tipsy old post-man, as though it had been surrounded by the four great rivers of its namesake. The Greatorexes, Mrs. Lescrimifere, Mrs. Brown, Dodge and Escott, and back again, Escott, Dodge, Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Lescrimifere and the Greatorexes — a gossip, and a family living in a Mud Castle ; just as if neither carriages nor saddle-horses ever entered the rectory gates ; as if there were no dinners given or gone to ; when all the while the whole sequence of social amenities and proprieties were observed by the Greatorexes and their neighbours. Mr. and Mrs. Lonsdale, the couple from Australia, were the nearest of these to Eden, and people who live within a certain distance of each other in the country, are always intimate, till they (piarrel. Thus though the Greatorexes quizzed the family from the colonics, and these last re- turned the compliment by laughing at French airs and graces, each party allowed the other some good qualities, and since the Hatch was let, the intimacy had redoubled. For Mrs. Lonsdale was as curious as Mrs. Greatorex as to Mrs. Brown and her son. There was not indeed a hypothesis applicable to a woman and a boy, that Mrs. 72 SKIRMISHING. Lonsdale had not put forward, and seriously speaking •without any ill-will to the objects of her doubts. Once she ventured on an act unparalleled since she became a wife — startled her husband out of his evening's slumbers by exclaiming, " I am sure this must be meant for Mrs. Brown." And she read from the second column of the first page of The Times, " Q — in the corner. — All safe. Forget me not." "What has that to do with Mrs. Brown?" asked Mr. Lonsdale, querulously. " Q — in the corner ! I am sure she is in a corner." Mr. Lonsdale muttered something not polite, and went to sleep again. Another time, Mrs. Lonsdale guessed that ISIrs. Brown was the famous Ij — M — waiting to return to Munich, and she wanted to send a groom over to offer to the sup- posed exile, her own saddle-horse, not up to her weight now. Then she remembered that Mrs. Brown had a son instead of a notoriously large dog, so that supposition had to be renounced. At first Mrs. Lonsdale's conjectures had amused her friends at the rectory, they were simply preposterous ; but she, growing tired of unsucccss, broke forth one day into moralizing on the subject, and of all tlie people in the world chose Mrs. Ijcscrimifere for auditor. " There must be something wrong, you know," began Mrs. Lonsdale, " wherever there's concealment, there must be wickedness. Every one agrees to that." " Whatever every body agrees to must be a lie," retorted Mrs. Lcscrimifere, "what truth has ever been universally acknowledged? Can you tell me, Mrs. Lons- dale ?" " Oh ! that's another matter, you know," said Mrs. Lonsdale, her colour deepened by fear of Mrs. Lescri- mifere, "I don't pretend to be wiser than other people, but Mr. lionsdale always says, that rigiit cun bear sun- light." " Truth, however, you may tell him, lies at tlio bottoir of a well, and lias successfully conceaUnl luu-self since the beginning of the world," said Mrs. Lescrimibre. 'i'liis skirmish silenced Mrs. Lonsdiih''s ([ucstion of "Who can she be?" for a considcralilc tinH>. ONE TALE IS GOOD, TILL ANOTHER'S TOLD. tS There were other potentates on the frontier of Eden who troubled themselves about Mrs. Brown's antece- dents. Now, why should people who would not have condescended to enter Mrs. Brown's doors, think about her at all, gratuitously talk scandal al)Out her ? They had no other reason to give, except that she had not chosen to publish her history for their curiosity to bat- ten on. "Well, then, the whole gamut of accusations had been run down, sotto voce, alta voce, and then suddenly popu- lar opinion veered round. Mr. and Mrs. Greatorex having called at the Hatch, were bound to defend their having done so ; and this they did by testifying to circum- stantial evidence in Mrs. Brown's favour. Mr. Escott's opinion — he having the reputation of being difficult to please — had double the weight of that of the good- natured rector and his wife. He declared he had dis- covered no cause of accusation against Mrs. Brown. As for Mrs. Lescrimifere, her word went for just nothing. Charity has only theoretically a wider sphere of influ- ence than justice. The ascending scale is far more difficult than the descending one. Catalan! said so. The decision applies to more things than the voice. To bowl down hill is easy— facilis descens^is Averni, &c., but starting from the Greatorexes' tea-party, the gamut of suppositions in favour of Mrs. Brown was slowly run up — and one of the first consequences was, that Mrs. Lonsdale went in her handsome new carriage to call on the supposed Q — in the corner. The heart of the lady from Australia, as she drove along, was full of some of that spirit of adven- ture which had expanded it, when some score of years ago, she had sailed across the ocean a bride. She intended to patronize as well as scrutinize her new acquaintance. Mrs. Brown was perfectly courteous to her unexpected visitor; so polished indeed that every eff"ort at eluci- dation or discovery made by Mrs. Lonsdale, slipped aside. Mrs. Lonsdale began : "You must find Eden very dull. Did you expect it tc be as quiet and as lonely as it is ?" 7 74 SKIEMISHING. Mrs. Brown had been aware of the fact tnat the Hatch was situated in a very secluded village. " The Greatorexes must be a great resource to you," went on Mrs. Lonsdale ; " it's a great comfort to them to have a decent tenant at the Hatch — not been always so ; it makes a great difference to them. The last people here were troublesome ; old Miss Earl, John Earl's sister, called them ' rebellious ladies.' " "Indeed!" Mrs. Brown had not heard anything of her predeces- sors. " I am sure T wonder how such a house lets at all," said Mrs. Lonsdale. " I should be afraid to live in it without a gentleman. When Mr. Lonsdale's away for a night I always make my maid sleep in the dressing-room with the door open between us ; to hear some one breath- ing, gives courage, you know." Mrs. Brown was not nervous, and was a good sleeper. " Lucky woman that you are !" exclaimed Mrs. Lons- dale, warming up into her own gossiping self ; " but then your nerves haven't been tried like mine, out in Australia, you know ; there wouldn't be a nerve in your body Avorth having if you had lived the best years of your life with your heart in your mouth." A chance shot oitcn hits the mark; but Mrs. Lonsdale, without observing either the smile or the sigh with which Mrs. Brown received her assertion, went on : "And your son, what does he do to amuse himself? He is a good player I know, but music is not enough for a boy. I hear ou7- curate says he is too fond of running about. Do you like Mr. Escott? Folks not a hundred miles off think a mighty deal of him ; he is one of the Escotts of Escott, only a younger son, thuiigh he gives himself the airs of a lord; but between you and me he is a horrid mufl'." As Mrs. Lonsdale paused, expecting sonu; reply, ]\Irs. Brown, who had no distinct idea how Mr. Escott could be a muO", ihougiit it safest to say she had only twice been in c()m))any witli tlie curate. " Jle's to marry Miss (Ireatorcx," said ^Irs. Lonsdale. People's word.s have often more than one meaning — Mrs. Brown must have understood, or else she was very ONE TALE IS GOOD, TILL ANOTHER'S TOLD. 15 cbtuse, that ]\[rs. Lonsdale pitied Miss Grcatorex for marrying Mr. Escott. Mrs. Lonsdale could not have given any other reason for her pity, save that she herself would not have liked to marry Mr. Escott. Tliough she called him " a muff," she had no ill-will towards him, it even flattered her when he talked to her. Mrs. Lons- dale's eyes were as busy as her tongue ; she was setting down in her memory, that Mrs. Brown's collar and sleeves were " lovely ;" perfectly absurd the wearing them at home in such a place as Eden, with no one to see them, for Mrs. Brown couldn't have guessed she was going to call. The fox who had lost his own tail made an oration to his brethren to cut off theirs. Mrs. Lonsdale spoke to her acquaintances of Mrs. Brown, she had been to the Hatch and she was glad she had been. Mrs. Brown was very pleasant, lady-like, and her devotion to her son was really very touching. Some of the lesser lights of twenty miles round, the one following the other, called on Mrs. Brown. There was the family who sat an hour without speaking; another who all spoke at once — there were some courteous, some brusque, all curious, and all hospi- tably inclined. Mrs. Brown at first refused all invitations, but kind- ness is difficult to resist, and when a friendly note came asking her to spend a quiet evening, accompanied by the promise of sending the pony-chaise or carriage to fetch her, she went, though with evident reluctance. 'She was so unassuming, that the ladies liked her, so handsome that the gentlemen could not but admire her ; they talked to her (men generally do to pretty women) and found that in spite of the beauty of her features and complexion, she was a sensible, accomplished woman. Escott enjoyed her conversation more perhaps than any of his elder confreres ; the key to the stores of his mind had not yet rusted in the lock, for want of use. Mrs. Lonsdale had a way of her own of viewing Escott's pleasure in Mrs. Brown's conversation. She had rigid notions of an engaged young lady's duties and rights, and very rigid ideas as to those of a lover. She felt for Maud on such occasions as she would have felt for herself; and in her sympathy at last, whispered to that young lady. 76 SKIRMISHING. " If I were you, I would not permit it, not I. I advise you, my dear, not to be so iutimate with Mrs. Brown ; women of that age are so deep. I know them." Maud's eyes dilated. "I don't mean anything," continued Mrs. lago ; " it's all friendship I know, only my opinion is and it was my mamma's before me, that a husband should have no lady friends, not if they were even grandmothers. Mr. Lonsdale never dared to talk to any lady but me after we were engaged. No, no ; no interlopers for me • — " a pause then, "what beautiful eyes she has, and she knows it." A deep-felt indignation emphasized Mrs. Lonsdale's sentence. Maud could not help looking with curiosity at Mrs. Brown and the curate. Certainly it was with decided admiration that Escott was regarding his fair companion ; he would not have been a man had he done otherwise ; but there was not a thought in his mind that could have offended Maud. Mixing with his admiration was a sort of wondering compassion that the l)Oiiuliful, gifted crea- ture talking to him, should be more like a neglected weed, than the carefully cherished flower of some manly heart, as it seemed natural to expect. But wliat is to be said of ^Irs. Lonsdale or any such, who sows the first suspicion in a youtliful mind ? Oh ! if we would only avoid silliness as sedulously as poverty. We hear it said by way of defence, for having a foolish accpiaintance, " she is silly, but there's no harm in her." Perhaps not, but a great deal of danger. There's a mon- strous difference between a probe in skilful or unskilful hands ; at any rate let us remember, that " lie wlio licks honey from tliorns will pay for it," and that, "The ass often treads down the most beaut ifiil llowcrs." Mrs. Lonsdale's stupid remarks did not apparently pro- duce any effect on Maud, but they had nevertheless sunk into her mind. At tlie moment, she answered, "Yes, Mrs. Brown has fine eyes: Dodge's are larger and brighter, sometimes painfully l)right." Mrs. Lonsdale, tapping her own forehead significantly, said, "Your mother thinks there is something wrong here. Where is he this evening?" " Ho will never come to us, if there's to l)c anybody ONE TALE IS GOOD, TILL ANOTHER'S TOLD. TT besides ourselves ; because then he won't see my sister Carry, the only one of us he cares much for : he grows shyer every day," said Maud. "His mother lets him have too much of his own way," said Mrs. Lonsdale. "I think she is afraid of drawing people's attention to his oddities," pleaded Maud. " She's a poor spiritless thing in my opinion, the sort of lackadaisical doll men admire, does nothing all day that I can find out, but read and work." Maud's account of George was exact — he refused every invitation, would not even take a bachelor's dinner with Escott, who repeatedly and with intention invited him. Indeed George went to no gentleman's house except to the rectory, and there only when there was no company. Mrs. Greatorex had taken him to task for his want of good-nature with his music, but failed after that first evening when he played for her unamusable guests, ever to make him yield a second time. He laughed at all her reasons, and told her he didn't mean to put on a coat for many a year, and perhaps never, and that in his velvet tunic he should be taken for a showman or strolling player; no, he would come and play as often as she liked when they were alone, but he neither could nor would in a party. He hated all he had heard of parties ; his mother said, they were insipid plays acted by stupid actors ; that every one was delighted when the curtain dropped, and they were at liberty to say, "They had been nearly suffo- cated by trying not to yawn." " Then your mother used to go to parties ?" asked Mrs Greatorex promptly. " She must," said George, with a great appearance of naivet6, "for she hates them." "You don't, then, remember her being so gay?" per- sisted Mrs. Greatorex. " It was when I was a child, I don't know anything about it." Mrs. Greatorex clung obstinately to her idea of George being of unsound mind ; she always called him " poor Dodge," and petted him, in spite of his resistance. It must be owned that he bore with the same equanimity — being quizzed by the children, coaxed or lectured by the 78 SKIRMISHING. elders, excepting indeed a word of reproof or satire from Escott. Then his eyes would flash and his nostrils dilate, and his whole look would be that of mad, helpless passion. One evening in particular, at the rectory, when Escott, to retaliate some slight of Dodge's to Maud, had been peculiarly sharp to him. Dodge had suddenly burst into tears and rushed out of the house. Escott, as he was going home an hour afterwards, caught sight of the short figure in a blouse sitting discon- solately on a gate by the roadside. " Come here, youngster," cried the curate, " while I give you a lesson you ought to have learned before this. Don't you know that it is a man's duty to behave cour- teously to women." " I am not a man," said Dodge, sulkily. " You are old enough, however," retorted Escott, " not to be treated as one would treat a child like Charles Greatorex, had he behaved as you have done to-night, and indeed on many other occasions, to Miss Greatorex. She is invariably kind to you, forbearing to a fault, and you almost always treat her with rough indiflerence. I will not describe"your manner by another name, because I am unwilling to think you have a bad heart." "I cannot pretend to like where I do not," answered Dodge, sullenly. " You ought to be ashamed of such an avowal with regard to one of God's best creatures," said Escott, hotly. There came no reply, and Escott, whose temper was ruffled first by the incident itself and then by Dodge's obstinacy, hurried on without saying good-night. Escott was by no means an attentive lover, he was reserved to an error, in all outward shows of tenderness, yet it was scarcely possible to anger him more than by any oversight or unki'ndness to Maud. Before he reaclu'd his lodgings his ire had cooled, and he reproacheil liiniself for not having made use of this chance meeting to say that, to young Brown which he had tried to make an ojiportunity for saying, by inviting him to dinner. And then Escott fell to speculating as to how so charming a motlu>r could have so wilful a child, lie was unwilling to be very hard on so agreeable a lady. lie had never before found any difficulty in deciding as to wliat he thought of his WOE TO THE CONQUERED. 79 acquaintances, and he had hitherto nevci* liked any one, without being certain that he also esteemed. Now, he did undoubtedly like Mrs. Brown, nay, he felt ready to do her any service in his power, yet really, except so far as her beauty, manners, and conversation went, he knew no good of her. Pious, she assuredly was not, as he compre- hended the word, and as a mother, visibly careless. Might he not venture to give her a hint or two on this last point? No, on further consideration, he would stick to his first plaa of speaking to the youth himself. CHAPTER XL WOE TO THK CONQUERED. THE leaves were yellow as gold on the tall poplars in the avenue leading to the Castle Hill, when Escott one day overtook George Brown there ; they had not met for a week, not since the night of the fracas noticed in the last chapter. The curate held out his hand in token of renewed amity, saying, — " I am going over the hill to Bowick, will you walk with me ?" George hesitated. " My good boy," went on Escott, " you must get rid as fast as you can of the childish habit of sulking ; in going through the world you must learn to take as well as to give ; if you offend, you must be ready to meet the consequences. If I was too harsh to you the other evening, the circumstances were aggravating. Let bygones be bygones ; come along with me. I want your com])any particularly to- day." George still hung his head, )jut kept by the curate's side. Escott was a first-rate walker, and urged by a sharp wind he stepped out smartly. Pursuing the same idea, he said, " Had you ever been to a public school, all nonsense would have been taken out of you long ago. You must try now and do that for yourself ; ah ! I see I am going to fast for your short legs." They were at that moment crossing " Eden Roughs ;" the ground was pierced in every direction with rabbit- holes; little grey-looking lumps with white scuts. 80 SKIRMISHING. bounded into life as the walkers came near, burrowing into the earth, or vanishing into the brake, with all the celerity of terror. " Fine fun for Master Charles Greatorex and his ferret here," began George, without any appearance of having heard what the curate had been saying to him. " I wonder you do not sometimes go out with Charlie," said Escott ; " he is not so old as you are, but he is au intelligent little fellow, and in my opinion a more suitable companion for your walks than some you choose." '•Perhaps, but not so agreeable," retorted George with a most provoking saucy air and smile. Escott, who had been seeking how most kindly to in- troduce the subject on which he wished to give advice, lost his patience and said sharply, " Foreign habits won't answer here. I am afraid you are far from being a good boy." George turned a face bubbling over with mischievous glee on his mentor, and asked, "What makes you think so ill of me, Mr. Escott? Fray explain what evil foreign habits I have imported into Eden." Escott had a temper that never brooked being defied; he knew his fault, and to keep it in check was a daily dis- cipline. Ife recovered his self-control in the minute George took to ask this question, and answered with calmness, " I allude to your constant practice of seeking the com- pany of the young girls of the village ; it is an odd taste in a young gentleman, who might have the society of his equals." " Ah ! the foreign habit you denounce," said Ceorge, interrupting Escott, " is, that I don't show a suflicient sense of my own snjieriority. You see I have not liad the advantage of being brought up in England. Where we lived before we came here, I was taught to treat the villagers as if they were of the same clay as myself. Que voulcz-vous? It is my misfortune not my fault, the not Imving more respectable ways." All mcrrinuMit had left George's face, and Escott was struck by a liauglitiness not without grace in the air of the boy's whole person. He looked like a little juincc rcbukintr some forward sub- ject. 'J'liey walked on for . so sure of their scholars, that they begged Mr. Broadwood to go on. Not one cliild appeared ever to have hoard of the Good Samaritan. In vain the Inspector promj)liMl them. " You, know, children, that travellers often meet with mishaps ; now what chanced to a certain man wlio was going from Jerusalem to Jericho ?" After a long silence one of the twins so dreaded ))y Miss Cox, stirred by the associations of ideas connected with Jericho, declared tliat the man l)lew a trumpet." " No, not exactly," said ISfr. Broadwood, " you arc lliinking of another event. This poor traveller fell in with thieves, and 11ii>n lie met, who? A long unbroken pause — you might have heard a pin dro]). (ireal l»eads of moi.sturc stood on Miss Cox's aching brows. " A Le- vitc," ])romi)ted Mr. l?roadwood, "a sort of clergyman." "A riiarisee," suggcslcd a boy. Mr. Broadwood was deaf. "And what did lie meet DANGER FLAG. 101 next ?" Then afraid of bis own question, he added, " I mean what sort of good man ?" " His neighbour," said a voice, timidly. " Very good, very good, a Samaritan who proved the neighbour to hira who fell among thieves." It was not only Miss Cox who had red cheeks by this time. " Who could imagine that those good-for-nothing chil- dren know the parables by heart?" whispered Mrs. Greatorex to Mrs. Brown. Maud could have beaten them all round, her particular class to have so disgraced itself. We will not inquire into what Escott would wil- lingly have awarded the delinquents. The sums fortunately went off satisfactorily, and the writing was deservedly praised. Mr. Broadwood under- stood the case ; he complimented poor Miss Cox (who now scarcely knew whether she had a head or not), and waggishly reproached the clergymen for having set him to do that, which was to show the children how easily an inspector might be puzzled. " I am sure you will have your certificate," said Maud, soothingly, to the schoolmistress, " as soon as it is all over, do go and lie down for an hour or two. Horrid little creatures ! they have given me a headache also." Mrs. Brown's appearance in the schoolroom had occa- sioned a shock of surprise to the rectory party. How extraordinary ! and she, always so disinclined to meeting strangers ! Miss Cox had never mentioned her visit to the Hatch ; indeed, after she had begged Mrs. Brown to come, she began to be afraid that Mrs. Greatorex might be displeased with her for having made the request, and therefore not only did Miss Cox not mention the proba- bility of Mrs. Brown's appearing, but by providing only five chairs, three for the rectory, one for the curate, and one for the inspector, threw off all suspicions from her- self of expecting a sixth visitor. Rectors' ladies have generally some fault to find with the schoolmistresses: "An excellent girl," they say, " but I do wish she managed the children better." The schoolmistress either overdrives, or does not drive enough ; and she in her turn, acknowledges the rector's lady or daughter, as it may be, to be very good and kind, but too 102 SKIRMISHING. interfering, and always patronizing tlie wrong pupils. The schoolmistress knows by intuition who the rectory prefers, and those are the persons she least likes. Miss Cox was aware that Mrs. Greatorex and Miss Maud were not so " taken up " with Mrs. Brown as they had been, and she therefore was inclined " to take up " Mrs. Brown ; but on second thoughts, self-interest conquered, and Miss Cox would rather not make visible her partisanship. So she left it to chance to reveal why Mrs. Brown came to the schoolhouse that particular day, when she had never done so before. "That power which erring men call chance," had surely inspired Miss Cox to persuade Mrs. Brown to come to the examination. It was the last of that poor lady's quiet days at the Hatch. Mr. Broadwood was to take an early dinner or lunch at the rectory ; and the rector whispered to his wife to ask Mrs. Brown to stop and jjartake of the meal. The same nnkown power worked on Mrs. Brown to believe that it would be churlish in her to refuse, though it really went sorely against her inclination to accept the invita- tion. There is truly a fate that overlays our purposes. An Alp does not arrest the conqueror's career, but a molehill does So is it with our precautionary measures ; it is the neglect of some trifle, which baffles all our pre- vious momentous successful eflbrts. The ladies took off their l)onuets before sitting down to table. Now, it is a remarkable fact that even wearied, spectacled, elderly inspectors of schools, like, as well as younger, idler men, to look at sweet faces, and our pre- sent inspector, all unfit to be admired himself, was the readier to admire, llis eye travelled from the still charming-looiit when we are uufommonly vexed and a triile frightened. "And," added \hv. lady, " wlial noed was there to trouble yon, when .Mr. Broadwood liad told wiicrc Mrs. Brown could 1)0 found ?" EYE-WITNESS IS BETTER THAN HEARSAY. 133 " If you could manage to 1)C a little reasonable, and ;i little patient, my dear, I would try to tell you what I gathered from Mr. T\^7ford." AVhcn Mr. Grcatorex used that form of speech, " my dear," his wife knew that she must not put his equani- mity to any further stretch. After pausing a moment to verify the chance of obtaining a fair hearing, the rector began — " The first thing Mr. Twyford wanted of me was the assurance that the person resembling the miniature he showed me, did live in the village, and also to make cer- tain of the denomination under which she was known. Broadwood had not been sure of either fact, any more than he had been able to recollect when here, where it was he had seen Mrs. Brown." " I don't see that you were obliged to answer such questions," interrupted Mrs. Lescrimifere. " If by doing so I had betrayed any confidence, cer- tainly I should not have done so," said the rector, " in- deed I heartily wish the alternative had not been placed in my power, for I am half afraid I yielded in some measure from a desire to avoid any chance of being put into that witness-box, Louisa so dreads, and which I must own, Mr. Twyford rather hinted at." " Perhaps you will not escape even now," sighed his wife. "I answered both queries," continued the rector; " I did not, in fact, see what reason I could give for a refusal. I added that nothing could have been more respectable or unoflending than Mrs. Brown's life, since she became my parishioner, Mr. Twyford said, he could quite believe it, from some letters he had read, written by that lady. Then I asked him to tell me (unless there was some paramount reason against it) what was Mrs. Brown's history, saying, that as the ladies of my own family were acquainted with her, I was doubly interested in tlie mat- ter. He answered that the story was already public property; that there had been a preliminary examination, reported as usual in the papers, and therefore the particu- lars were at my service. It seems that a certain Mr. Bouverie some score of years ago, when a young, dashing, handsome man, married a rich elderly spinster, a Miss Mil- 12 134 SKIRMISHING. ford, of course, every one but herself knew, for her money. After a very few years, she got uncomfortable and sus- picious of his frequent absences from home — he was bitten, it seemed, by a mania for travelling, and on one pretext or another disembarrassed himself of his wife's company. When he did live with her, he behaved kindly and thus maintained his influence over her affections. At last, one day, a letter addressed in pretty female writing, was for- warded to their country house ; he was not at home, and she, sheltering herself under the excuse of the word " immediate" on the cover, opened it ; there was an enclosure directed to Edward Brooke, and again the word " immediate." With a sharp instinct of a jealous woman and in spite of the change of name, Mrs. Bouvcrie broke the second seal, on which by-the-by was the name Felicia : the letter was from a wife to a husband — every word was proof of that, let alone the signature of 'Your own loving wife, Felicia' — there was in it a prayer to come to her directly as their darling was ill. There must have been allusions, conveying certainty to Mrs. Bouvcrie of the wrong tliat had been done her, for she proceeded at once to ransack her husband's desk and writing-table, and even broke open an escritoire in his dressing-room. In this last piece of furniture it was that she discovered a few faded letters and the miniature Twyford showed me. and which cannot have been painted long, it is so wonder- fully like the original. I don't know whether Mr. and Mrs. Bouvcrie met after her nuirauding, but'J'wyford told me, she went to her sister's son who is also her heir-at- law, gave him the letters and llie picture, saying that she trusted to him to see her righted and protected. Thi-a gentleman was nothing loth to act against the husband, whom he considered as his rival for his aunfs property. Twyford was consulted and the jxtlice were set to work. " You should have seen the old lawyer's face," said the rector, interrupting his narration, "his cheeks burned and his eyes glowed, as he described the way in which a cliain of evidence had been procured, he looked just as men do when recounting a good day's sport, lie went on to say, tliat they heUl the two ends of the tangled Bkein— the date of tlu> lirst letter from Penrith, and that of the last from Jleidelberg — strange, he said, liow men EYE-WITNESS IS BETTER THAN HEARSAY. 135 do keep proofs against themselves ; it's as if the father of crimes prompted them to their own undoing. 'JIad Mr. Bouvcrie destroyed that bit of paper, I don't see how we were to have traced out the marriage between an Edward Brooke and a Felicia lieaphy. The first letter was evidently one from a bride, and. with that as a clue, we found the register of a marriage at tlic parish church of Penrith between two persons of those names, repre- sented as bachelor and spinster, The clergyman who solemnized the marriage was dead and so were the clerk and the other witness. But through the day-books of a grocer for the same year as tlie marriage, we discovered where Mr. and Mrs. Brooke had lodged in Penrith. The landlady had also died in the interim, but her daughter remcmljercd hearing her mother talk about the runaway couple who had been married first at Gretna, and then afterwards by banns at Penrith.' " "An elopement!" exclaimed Mrs. Greatorex. "I was not so far wrong, you see, when I said there was always a fault somcAvhere in misfortune." " Louisa, for heaven's sake," said her mother ; " do you understand the spirit of the gospel you read so dili- gently ? Your proposition would lead to some strange results." " The imprudence of a young girl," observed Mr. Great- orex, " (and admitting Mrs. Brown to be the heroine of Mr. Twyford's story, she must have been very young at that date,) can scarcely deserve so harsh a sentence as yours, Louisa. Think also how many who have been highly esteemed members of society, committed the same error at the beginning of their career. However, let me finish what little more I have to say. The daughter of the landlady and the son of the defunct grocer, believed that after the lapse of more than sixteen years, they could still identify Mr. and Mrs. Brooke, and agreed to appear as witnesses whenever called upon. In the meantime, an agent had been dispatched to Heidelberg (from whence you recollect the letter marked '■iunnediate" was dated), and had no difficulty in finding the furnished villa that had been tenanted for a twelvemonth by a family of the name of Brooke. The agent managed to see and satisfy iiimself that Mrs. Brooke must be the original of the 136 SKIRMISHING. miniature. Mr. Brooke was not then at the villa. There appeared to be no mystery about the Brookes — the trades- people, as their bills were regularly paid, entertained no suspicions against their respectability. However, Twy- ford and the police considered that they had sufficient grounds to form a strong presumption that Bouverie and Brooke were one and the same, and they obtained a war- rant for Mr. Bouverie's apprehension. The same agent returned to Heidelberg to subpoena Mrs. Brooke and others, as witnesses to identify Mr. Bouverie. but between the agent's first and second visit, Mrs. Brooke had given up the villa, and she and her servants had gone no one knew whither. She was tracked as far as Frankfort, and there they lost all trace of her. " The witnesses from Penrith, as might have been ex- pected, could not swear to Mr. Bouverie's identity with Mr. Brooke — the grocer's son said the man he remem- bered was half a head taller than Mr. Bouverie, the Ger- mans could not agree as to Mr. Brooke's complexion. The one said he was dark, the other fair. There was the set-olT against these discrepancies of testimony, in the similarity between the usual writing of the accused, and that of the signature in the Penrith church register, and the facts of the possession of the miniature and the first letter. The magistrate refused to consider these as de- posits left by any ]'>dward Brooke, and Mr. Bouverie was committed for trial at the ensuing Michaelmas term ; but the case was adjourned to January, that is ne.xt month, to give the prosecution time to hunt up Mrs. Brooke. Twyford ended by saying, he was heginning to shake in his shoes, when Broadwood so providentially fell in with Mrs. Brown here and sup]>lie(l the missing link." "God bless me I" exclainuMl Mrs. Lescrimiere, "it puts me out of all patience to hear the use or rather abuse of that word providential. Your lawyer was nearer right when lie attributed such discoveries to diabolical malig- nity. I think it is rather hard, sup|)osiiig Mrs. Brown to be Mr. JJouverie's victim, they should insist on her coming forward to expose her own misfortune. I think she is f|uite right to keep out of the way, by any mean.s short of suicide." "You forget the cause of justice," said Mrs. Greatorex EYE-WITNESS IS BETTER Til AN HEARSAY. 137 ■' Injustice I call it," said the old lady," asking a woman in a manner to criminate hersell" — to hold up a picture of her agony to the public, and all to gratify another woman's pique. If it were to re-establish a fair fame, d la bonne heure ; my dear soul ! talk of law as much as you like — l)ut not of justice — ^justice belongs to a diviner tribunal than an eartlily one." " Her disappearing so opportunely tells vei-y much against Mrs. Jirown," observed Mrs. Greatorex, "and I confess I cannot bring myself to believe that any woman can have been deceived for sixteen or seventeen years." "Yet Mrs. Bouverie was," answered Mrs. Lescrimifere, quickly; "and sharp as she has since shown herself, you make no difhculty as to her." Mrs. Greatorex turned a deaf ear to this remark, and said, "Did Mr. Twyford say nothing about the boy?" "Well, lie knew there was a child, but he had fancied it was a girl." Mrs. Greatorex sat thoughtful for a moment, then said, " It's a queer mess altogether, but what is going to be done next?" "Mrs. Brown is to receive a subpoena to-morrow. It was to be quite sure of the name she now goes by, that ])rincipally brought Twyford to Eden. He must employ the Z police, it seems, in the matter." " She will never go," said Mrs. Lescrimifere. " I would not in her place." " I imagine there must be some way of c©mpelling a reluctant witness to appear," said the rector, " that is, if you once catch your hare." "You may take a horse to the water, but you can't force him to drink," returned Mrs. Lescrimifere pugna- ciously; "if she ever cared for the man, she won't speak against him, take my word for it — women are great fools, we all know." " I am not much of a lawyer," returned the rector, laughing at the old lady's admissions in the Iicat of argu- ment, she, who at other times defended with such vehe- mence the superiority of w'omen — " I am not much of a lawyer, but I know of cases, in which the witness refusing to answer before a judge or magistrate may be committed 12* 138 SKIRMISHING. to prison for contempt, and the imprisonment may be continued at the discretion of the judge until the witness yields." " Then I would stay there, till I died, before I yielded," said Mrs. Lescriniifere. " Mamma!" here interrupted Carry's voice. "Carry!" exclaimed father and mother in a breath; "how came you here ?" "Anne sent me to tell mamma, that dinner was go- ing in." "Why didn't you speak before ?" " I was waiting for papa and grandmamma to be done talking." None of them liked to ask her how much she had heard and understood ; whatever it was, it could not be helped now. CIIAFTER XX. ILL NEWS TRAVELS APACE DINNER was unusually silent ; the rector was exactly as James had described it, awfully put out — Mrs. Greatorex too engrossed by what she bad so recently licard and some ]irivate speculations of her own, to be inclined to talk of anything but Mrs. Brown's story, and so all the keeping up of appearances before the servants was left to Mrs. Lescrimifcre. She talked to INlaud, who us yet knew notliing of what had occurred. Charlie's first question at dessert was, "What did that queer old fellow want with you, i)apa?' "He came on business." "'J'cll us, mother, do," whispered Charlie, laying bia handsome head on his mother's arm. " Really, on business, child." "Yes, papa said tliat, but what business?" ' IJoys and girls simuld not be curious." " Should grown ])eople V" "Noii.sense, Cluirlie, you must learn patience." " lie quiet, Charles," said the rector. ILL NEWS TRAVELS APACE. 139 When papa callod him Charles, the boy knew he must obey, just as mamma did when she heard the ominous "my dear." As they wore going into the drawing-room, Escott came in, and Mr. and Mrs. Grcatorex took him and Maud into the library, that they might be made acquainted with what had happened, without danger of the children's sharp cars, hearing that which was not intended for them. Mrs. Lescrimiere remained in the drawing-room to read her paper ; Charlie, Carry and Willie were seated as usual round the centre table. Presently Mrs. Lcscrimifere was roused from a deeply interesting article on foreign policy, by a hubbub among the children, and Carry came to her saying, " Grandmamma, may I ask you a question ?" " To be sure." "Are Mrs. Brown and George wicked people ?" Carry's face was a deep red as she put her question. " My dear child, what can have put such an idea into your head ?" " Charlie says they are going to be taken up, and that only bad people are put in prison." " I don't know where Charlie got his information, my dear, but he is not right in what he supposes." " I told hiin, grandmamma, I heard papa saying Mrs. Brown was to get a summons to-morrow, and Charlie said he knew that meant the police taking up a person. Jim Stiles got a summons for stealing Mr. Earle's apples, and was put in prison." "Sometimes a summons does end in carrying people to prison. Carry — but often is only a way of asking some one to give information about a person that is suspected of having done wrong, do you understand ? I might have been summoned to tell of Jim Stiles if I had seen him actually taking the apples — Mrs. Brown is wanted to tell something she knows." " Then why did papa say, she might be put in prison?" " Because poor Mrs. Bro\\ni does not wish to tell tales of some one she cares about. You wouldn't like to tell anything that would have grandmamma or papa dread- fully punished, would you? You would rather go to prison yourself, 1 am sure." 140 SKIRMISHING. The little girl's lips quivered at the mere possibility of sucli terrible coiitiugencies. " Come here, boys," continued Mrs. Lescrimifere, " and I will tell you all a story of bow a good woman was put iu prison for doing a kind action." The children seated themselves on footstools in a semi- circle before their grandmother, and prepared for that supremest enjoyment of child-life — the being told a story. " When I was a little girl as young as Carry," began Mrs. Lescrimifere, " my mother wanted to go to Paris to join my father who had been obliged to stop there." '• Why ?" asked Charlie. " Because the emperor ordered him to do so — for you all know my father was a Frenchman — and it was very difficult for ns to go to him, for the same emperor who would not let hun come to England, would not let the English go to France." " The English licked the French though," again inter- rupted Charlie. "I sliall not go on," said Mrs. licscrimifere, "if 30U stop me again." " Charlie, be quiet, do" came from Carry and AVillie. "It was very difficult then," continued grandmamma, "for lis to pet to Paris — we went in a smuggling vessel first to Holland, and one of our fellow-passengers was a beautiful lady." " Just like Mrs. Brown I daresay," observed Carry in an aside. " This lady called herself Afadamc (iirard — we did not know her real name for a long time. Well, she contided to my motlier that she was carrying letters and money to Prince Pulignac, and this Prince was a great friend of tlic Bourbons, and an enemy to Napoleon. Madame Girard asked my mother to help her to hide some of the letters, and my mother said I was such a brave girl, that I wouldn't be afraid to carry one — and so they put it into the foot of tine of my stockings the morning we landed." " And what would those bad French have done to you, grandmamma, if they liad found you out ?" " Put my mother and myself in i)rison," was the reply Carry gave a nod full of meaning to Charlie. ILL NEWS TRAVELS APACE. 141 " Madame Girard did not travel with us," went on Mrs. Lescrimiferc, " but she had my father's directions in Paris, and she was to come and fetch her letters as soon as she knew we were there. Wc got to Boulogne very well — nobody troubled us on the road — but when we arrived there, a person came and told my mother she must go to the Hotel de Villc — the town-hall — and I was left all alone at the hotel. I had heard that many ladies and gentlemen had been called avay just as my mother had been — and that they had never come back, and I sat looking out of a window and thinking what I would do, if my mother didn't come back and if gendarmes were to take me to prison, and 1 wondered if I should be brave enough not to tell Madame Girard's secret. I thought I would rather die than be so cowardly — after all one can only die once. By-and-by my mother returned, she was very pale — all she told me then was, that we must stay at Boulogne for two days. At night, she whispered to me, .keeping her head and mine under the bed-clothes, that the police took her for some one else, and they wouldn't let her go, till they had heard from Paris. She bid me never ask questions, nor talk of our affairs, for that almost every servant in the hotel was a government spy. On the third day she went away again ; but this time it was all right, my father had interest with some great people and we were allowed to set off for Paris." " And were you always wearing the same stockings ?" " No, but I had the letter always in one of my stock- ings. Madame Girard came to see us immediately after we reached Paris — and we gave her the letters we had smuggled for her. She told us where she lived, but said it would perhaps be better if we did not visit one another. She kissed me, thanked my mother, and bid us good-by. " Well, it might have been a week after, there came a great ring at our house bell, and a man wlio looked like a giant to me, came into the room where my motlier was sitting. She was at that moment hearing my lessons. ' You are Madame I^ouise de Louricourt, I believe ?' were his first words to my mother. My father's brother was in the room also; he turned pale, for he believed she was going to be arrested. The tall stranger begged to s])eak to her alone, and she, I see her now, quite calmly nodded 142 SKIRMISHING. to my uncle and me, as much as to say, go — -which we did. Presently she came to my father's apartment where we were with him, and told us it was not an agent de police — I mean not a policeman, but a friend of Madame Girard, and he had come to ask my mother to try and warn Madame Girard that she was in danger, and had better get out of Paris and indeed of France as fast as possible. " ' And how are you to manage this, Louise V said my father to my mother. ' To begin with, I shall not allow you to go yourself — you are already suspected enough.' 'No,' answered my mother, 'to go myself would be running useless risks. I thought of sending Mathilde.' meannig me, explained Mrs. Lescrimifere. ' Can you, and will you, my little girl ?' asked my father, drawing me to his knee. ' There will be no danger to a child, and if you have courage to run in the dusk to Madame Girard you may save the poor lady from a prison.' " I was very proud to be trusted — and said I would go. So when it was nearly dark, my mother put me on my bonnet and my cloak, gave me the message to Madame Girard. making me repeat it several times, so as to be sure I should remember it, and then my father took his hat, and went down stairs with me and tlirough the front court, that the conciferge might not think it strange I should go out alone. Then he left me at the corner of our street, telling nic which way I was to turn. Madame Girard did not live far from us. I reached her safely — but there was a visitor with her. I said my mother had sent me to see her and sat down quietly by her side. The visitor did not speak to me, but 1 caught his eye on me every time I looked up. Madame Girard laughed and talked a great deal with him, and took no notice or very little of me, and I was beginning to be frightened that I should have to go home without giving her my message, when she turned round and saiil slie would take me to play with a neighbor's little girl, till my mother came to fetch mc. I thouglit she was making a pretence, you know, so I did not say my mother was not coramg. As soon a.s we were alone, she asked mo in (piite a whisper what it was, and 1 whispered back the words my mother had loid mc. She gave a great sigh and said—' Go home ILL NEWS TRAVELS APACE. 143 and tell your motlicr that I am sure the man you saw in my salon is a police agent — and if she hears no more of me, she may believe I am in prison.' " " And was she put in prison, gradmamma ?" burst from the three children. " Yes, and none of her friends allowed to see or even speak through a grating to her. She might have had her liberty if she would have told the names of those who had sent the letters and the money to the prince." " And did she never get out ?" asked Charlie. " Not for a very long while, and then her health was so broken, she very soon died." Grandmamma did not point the moral of her tale, but left it to work its o^vn way. That night. Carry, instead of falling asleep as soon as her head was on the pillow,lay awake, troubled by one great longing to do as grandmamma had done by the French lady, to go and warn poor Mrs. Brown, that she was to be taken up next day. Her fancy pictured the beautiful lady who had always been so kind to her, in a shocking prison with chains on. Carry remembered having seen a man who had just come out of jail, and he had had a red mark all round his head ; it was only the mark of a tight hat, but Carry had supposed it to be that of some iron ring to which he had been fastened ; this image became more vivid and distressing every moment. And then Dodge — Carry loved Dodge as truly and en- tirely as if she had been twenty instead of eleven ; for her he was the most perfect of boys, accomplished, handsome, above all, unhappy. Quite a woman in that, this last trait was the most attractive of all. Carry's heart swelled at the picture she drew for herself of George's grief and desolation at his mother's being taken to prison. What was to become of Dodge without a mother, it was ap- palling to think of; what a courageous little girl her grandmamma had been to go about a great town by her- self, streets had lamps to be sure, but the moon was so bright to-night. Carry had remarked it as she came up to bed — it was almost as bright as day. A great resolution was maturing in Carry's mind, a heoric resolution if her age and sex be considered. She got out of bed, huddling on her clothes as best she 144 SKIRMISHING. might ; she put on her cloak and hat, and then she knelt down to say a prayer, to beg God to spread his wings over her, tliis image suggested by the print of the guar- dian angel with the outstretched sheltering wings which hung opposite to Carry's bed. " There are no wild beasts in England, I know," solilo- quized the little girl as she crept down the back stairs. No one in the passages, the servants were at supper, and she could hear INIaud playing Mozart. Out into the backyard, here Hector, the big black Newfoundland left loose at night, nearly knocked her over by uncouth caresses. As soon as Carry opened the gate Hector dashed through, and went leaping and frolickinp' :'long the road. " Perhaps God has sent him to take care of me. I never thought pf him myself," said the little girl. AVhile Carry was in the road that skirted the rectory garden, she was not frightened ; it was difi'eront when she neared the old yew-trees, which even in the day made all about them gloomy — the grave-stones, too, showed so ghastly. "What was that dreadful black thing jumping in the churchyard ? she turned hot, then cold, and beads of moisture stood on her brow, the black thing was com- ing towards her — ah ! — why, it was only Hector. The church was passed and Carry was in the avenue of ash-trees, which runs across the I.iea. Here she be- gan to sing to herself in a low voice one of the Sunday hymns ; her voice was not very steady — there were so many sounds about,- so many more than in the day. The mere crack of a branch or a twirl along her path of a dried leal", or mutter of wind anuuig the hills, were soimds of menace and dread to the little heroine. Her heart grew fuller and fuller, her courage waxed fainter and fainter, but she persevered ; at last she saw the white palings of the Hatch garden — then she ran, ran until she stopped breathless at the door and rang the l)ell in her excitement, she did not know, how violently. It brought Mrs. IJrown, George, Hans, all into Die hall. "Don't open the door, Hans," cried the lady, turning the colour of ashes. "Ask first who is there." The door was always kept locked and the chain up. Hans luid therefore to unlock it; and tiien, without re moving the chain he opened the door about two inches ILL NEWS TRAVELS APACE. • 145 and showing the point of his long nose, asked in English that sounded like German, " Who is there ?" "It is only I, Mr. Hans," said a child's voice; "pray let nie in." " Gott im Hinimel !" cried the old man, " it is de Pfar- rer's little tochtcr," and he instantly undid the chain, and almost lifted Carry into the hall. " Was is de niatt'r, poor Kind ?" " Oh ! JNlrs. Brown," and here Carry's fortitude gave way and she began most unheroically to cry. '' I\Iy dear little friend, come and tell me what has brought you here to-ni^ht," and Mrs. Brown and George each taking one of her hands led Carry into the drawing- room. "A glass of orange-flow'r wat'r do her good," said Hans, " poor little FrJiulein." "She is shaking with cold," said Mrs. Brown, rubbing the frozen hands. " Come, Carry, and sit down on the fender stool with me," said George, and he drew her down beside him. " Now, off with the hat and let's hear the melancholy story." " Oh ! Dodge, Dodge," and her arms were round his neck, her words broken by sobs ; " they are coming to take your mamma to prison, an old man came and told papa so to-day — and oh! pray, Mrs. Brown, you must make haste and go away — they are coming to-morrow." George started to his feet, Mrs. Brown laid her finger on her lips. " And you came out alone at night without any one sending you to tell me this?" asked Mrs. Brown, kneeling down by the trembling child. " Yes," and Carry laid her own face against the pale beautiful one gazing at her so earnestly. " Grandmanuna was braver than me once." "God bless her and you. Carry. God make you like her, dear Carry, and then children will rise up and call you blessed also." " Trinken my little tear," urged Hans, who had brought her a glass of eau de fleur d'orangc. " I must go home," said Carry, " they will be frightened 13 146 SKIRMISHING. if they miss me. Oh ! I don't know what will you do. I am so sorry," and the tears began again to roll over her cheeks. " I can't bear Dodge to go away, indeed I can't." "Poor angel !" said Mrs. BroM^n softly; " you must go home, darling, and Hans shall go with you." " Will you be safe without him ?" asked Carry. " He won't be long," said Mrs. Brown, " and now, dear child, you will go away I am sure, for you know I must have a good deal to do." Mrs. BroM'n kissed her often ; the child clung in agony to Dodge, who rather j^ermitted than returned her parting embrace. Indeed ever since Carry had told her errand, he had remained like one petrified, — taking no part in the inquiries — not even bid- ding farewell to his little loving friend. Hans made Carry run almost all the way home, leaving her at the beginning of the rectory wall. As none of the doors were ever locked until the rector did so himself, the last thing before going to his bed. Carry had no diflSculty in gaining admittance by the back gate and door. When she went out, the servants were at supper; when she returned they were in the drawing-room at prayers — so she easily slipped up unobserved to her room. She was scarcely again in bed, before her mother came in, on her nightly round to see all her children. Carry had buried her head in her ])illow; she could not have met her mother's eye without confessing what she had done. " Dear me ! how untidy that Mary is," observed Mrs. Greatorex, "leaving all the child's clothes unfolded." CHAPTER XXI. TUK WOUND IS CHEAT, BECAUSE IT IS SO SMALL. ABOUT a quarter of an hour before the bell rang for morning prayers there was a little tap at I^fr. Great- orex's private study door, and Carry putting in her head asked, "May I come in, papa?" " Yes, my dear ; why, little woman, what is the mat- THE WOUND IS GREAT, BECAUSE SO SMALL. 141 ter ?" Carry was pale, heavy-eyed, and shaking from head to foot. " Oh I papa " and she -went and laid her head on his breast, " don't be angry with me. I went and told Mrs. Brown to go away." "No; did you really, my darling?" said the rector, looking quite pleased and speaking in a most satisfied voice. " Why, when did you manage that ?" " Last night, papa. I could not go to sleep for think- ing of poor Uodge if they took away his mother, so I got up and dressed, and ran there." At the recollection of the over-night's terrors and sorrows Carry's voice died away in a broken whisper. " There, there, don't cry, you did it for the best. But I say, Carry, what put it into your head to be in such a hurry ?" " I heard what you and grandmamma said about taking up Mrs. Brown, pupa, and Charlie said she was to be put in prison — and oh ! papa, I am so sorry . . ." Then in a very tremulous whisper, she added, " Dodge is to write to me, Mrs. Brown promised." Mr. Grcatorex thought his little girl was fretting lest she had done wrong, so waving that rather intricate ques- tion, he said rather in the tone of a fellow conspirator — " Do you think they can have got away, Carry ?" " I have not heard any carriage pass. Oh ! papa, do you think mamma will be angry with me ?" Carry knew without having been told that mamma was not inclined to be so kind to Mrs. Brown as papa was. " No, no, mamma won't be angry." Before he had time to say more, Charlie's voice was heard in the hall crying out, " Where's papa ?" " What do you want ?" asked the rector, appearing in the passage." " Here's a go," shouted master Charlie — " the Browns are off — no one left in the house but Hans, and he looked as fierce as an old white rat, I can tell you, when I went and asked for Dodge." " My dear boy," said Mr. Greatorex, " it's no business of ours what the Browns do, or where they go — for my part I would rather not know." The rector spoke so dis- 148 SKIRMISHING tinctly that the whole household now gathering together 'or prayers heard every word he said. "They got warning, you may depend on it," said Mrs. Oreatorex, after the servants had left the room, and her eyes glanced suspiciously at Mrs. Lescrimifere. Carry went up to her mother and said — " Mamma, I told Mrs. Brown and not grandmamma." " You— child— when ?" Mr. Greatorex came to the assistance of the abashed little heroine. After hearing the explanation, Mrs. Great- orex said rather severely, "Whenever you wish to conceal from your parents ■what you are going to do, you may be sure you are wrong. I trust you will never play such a trick again — it's very well nothing happened to you — " her mother's manner made Carry wince, made her feel as if she had been absurd instead of heroic. " I believe I must share in Carry's blame," said Mrs. Lescrimifere. " I dare say a story I told the children last evening put it into her head to go to the Hatch." Mrs. Greatorex did not say to her mother what she did afterwards to her husband, that she had been sure that her mother in one way or other had been the instigator of Carry's adventure. " Unconsciously perhaps, unconsciously, my dear," said the rector, "your mother is not one, to put on another person's shoulders, what she thinks ought to be done, and could herself do." Mrs. Greatorex began to dislike Mrs. Brown. Mother, husband, and child all taking her part — no one sympa- thizing in her view of the question — no, not even her intended son-in-law. Even he had been more inclined to pity, than censure INIrs. Brown for her misfortunes. Women, such as Mrs. (Jreatorex. wlio liave all their lives walked in a straight oi)cn ])ath, protected from all ambiguity by favouring circumstances, are apt to take fright nt, to be suspicions even of any one of their own SOX whose position is not so transparent as their own. They could pity, often befriend one who iiad been openly criminal; but to act as tlic English law commands, give credit for innocence till guilt be proved, is actually be- yond their power ; they shrink even from giving the THE WOUND IS GREAT, BECAUSE SO SMALL. 149 benefit of a doubt. Mrs. Greatorex had, in calling at the Hatch, yielded to the influence of her mother and hus- band ; but after the first enthusiasm created by Mrs. Brown's beauty and George's music had exhausted itself, Mrs. Greatorex returned to her first belief in the unad- visability of intimacy with Mrs. Brown. Maud's heart swelled with new-born joy when she was told that Mrs. Brown had left Eden ; she had struggled bravely against jealously, but she had scotched not killed the green-eyed monster, " Love's curse." She had the self-control not to join in any of the depreciatory remarks her mother made to Escott ; she could go no further than silence. She could not join in her grandmother's defence of Mrs. Brown, or respond to any appeal made in her behalf. The girl, so lately a type of happy tranquillity, had become a centre of agitation ; her faculties sharpened to a morbid extent. No alchemist seeking for the phi- losopher's stone ever strove to penetrate into Nature's mysteries, more perseveringly than did this young crea- ture into the heart of her promised husband. Not a fall of his eyelids, not a compression of his lips, not a sylla- ble he uttered, not a gesture passed unheeded — not one, but from which she drew some conclusion which cut her to the quick. She was not aware that to her own pre- occupied manner was greatly due Escott's continued estrangement ; an estrangement they both did their utmost to conceal from those around them, and so well did they succeed that her mother often said to Maud, "Enjoy the present, dear, they are the golden days of your life." Maud could have cried aloud, so deep was the pang given by these words so in contradiction to her feelings. She had not the resources of a passionate outbreak, which would have helped most women out of this sort of armed neutrality. Her own violent sensations were so new to her, that she was afraid of them ; and then the look of weary resignation which would come into Escott's face, if she began any allusion to his change of manner, always acted as a spell on her words. In fact Escott dreaded explanations ; it was his theory, that the only purpose they answer is, to throw down the dyke which has re- strained the floods of passion. 13* 150 SKIRMISHING. Maud at last submitted to his silent award that they should never talk of themselves. " There is no remedy for it but patience. Old Eschylus himself gave no other counsel by the lips of his Chorus to Prometheus on the rock. Squeeze all those beautiful verses and reduce them to their simple meaning, and you will have as the result, 'be patient.' Patience and cour- age, there is no difficulty out of which one does not find an issue with those two aids." Something to this effect Maud one day heard her grandmother saying ; the words were not addressed to her, but Maud felt them as so singularly apropos an answer to her own perplexity how to act with Escott, that she received them as an oracular message. Simple loving beings are inclined to be fatalists in moments of doubt looking for good or bad omens in all around them, even in thistle-down. " ITc loves me a little — a great deal," whispers the country girl, as she blows the light seed, and is comforted when the last pufF mates with passionately. That gooding day will be long remembered in Eden ; there had not Ijccn such a siirring day among its inhabi- tants since that on wliich the present rector brought home his beautiful " furrin " lady. First there was the agitation consequent on the discovery that Mrs. Brown and George had left the Hatch during the night — run away in fact. Secondly, there was the arrival of the police officer from Z , with the summons for Mrs. I3rown, a sufficient ex])lauation of her flight : for note well, every one in the village instantaneously believed t^ie worst of Mrs. Brown, were even wroth when any of the rectory servants, better informed, declared she was sought as a witness, not as a criminal. People did not go oil' in the niglit, did they, unless tliey had something to ))e afraid of for themselves ? The general excitement reached its height when, later in the day, it was found out that Hans had also disap- peared. This last event liccame known when one of the baker'.s sons ))roughta brown paper parcel containing the keys of the Hatch to the rector. "The old German,"- said tlic boy, " had given liim a penny to carry the parcel to the rectory." Inside were a few lines in crabbed THE WOUND IS GREAT, BECAUSE SO SMALL. 151 German which ISradenioipclle was called from the school- room to tlcciphcr, and which was to the effect that the half-year's rent for the Hatch had been paid in advance. Mr. Greatorex went at once to the Hatch accompanied by Escott and his churchw'arden, Stephen Amos, and affixed his seal to the different boxes, into which Hans had packed several movables belonging to his mistress, and also on the wardrobes and drawers which were still full of wearing apparel. Next morning all Eden was palpitating anew, and this time it was Mith a ghost-story. Young Earl protested that when he was returning home about eleven o'clock the night before, as he reached the bit of road between Mr. Escott's lodgings and the Hatch, just where two ash- trees in opposite hedges bent over and joined their branches, something fluttered past him, that it sounded like large wings, that he called out, and that though the moon was up and he could see fifty yards before and be- hind him, he was ready to take his Bible oath, not a creature, man or beast, was visible— that when he got near the Hatch he saw a light in the front of the house — he was sure it was outside not inside, for it was moving in mid-air — he protested that no living thing could have carried it, it spread and spread — he must have watched it for five minutes — all on a sudden it vanished, and he thought he heard the same fluttering sound, but it was far oif.' All the elder women in Eden knew what it was young Earl had witnessed — it was a " shell-light," and it pre- dicted a death. The consternation was general ; that of the lad who had had the visitation greatest of all. One dame remembered that Mrs. Stephen Iloghen when nursing her daughter, having occasion to leave the sick- room one night, had been surprised at secuig a light which spread before her, and then passed away she did not know liow or where, and very soon afterwards her daughter died. Another old lady related how her nephew when only eight years old, as he was coming home with his father who had been taken suddenly ill in the field, and was laid on a mattress in a cart, had been astonished at beholding a pale light all over his father, which lasted till they got to their own door, then passed away across 152 SKIRMISHING. the house, and the poor man died that same night. The boy had spoken of the Ught, wondering what it could be, but she had not told him it was a " shell light" till he was grown up. Young Earl's story put the climax to the agitation that had reigned since Mrs. Brown's disappearance. Not an invalid in the parish but felt worse that day, and Mrs. Greatorex was running from one to the other with the cordials of her own cheerfulness and bottles of wine. There was the old pair, Joe Noble and his wife, the former over ninety, tlae other in her eighty-ninth year — they certainly would not have survived the shock of the appearance of the "shell light" had Mrs. Greatorex not bolstered them up by the promise of plum-pudding on Christmas-day, and a bottle of old port. It was touch- ing to hear the old husband say, — " I hope it will please God to take me first, I dunna what I should do without her." The young people of the rectory had been also out all day on errands of kindness. As they were returning home l)etween three and four o'clock, they met Escott. He walked by Maud's side, taking from her a bundle of ivy and holly she was carrying. " You look very much fatigued," lie said. "Maud's always tired now," said Charlie; "she ain't half such a girl as she was." They were passing the castle hill at that moment. "What's that, Walter?" whispered Carry, in a tone of fear. " What's what ?" he asked. " Something moving among the trees," she said. " A sheep or a cow, I suppose," he answered. " I thought you had a brave spirit, Carry, did 1 not hear something of a little girl going out all by herself at night?" Carry did not say any thing more, but he felt that she was holding by his coat. Escott took leave of Maud at the rectory gate, saying, " I liave promised Stephen to help him this evening to hang the garlands in the church, so don't be astonished if you sec me again at tea-time." lie spoke clieerfully with one of his liright, beautiful smiles, and he could see that Maud walked up the car THE WOUND IS GREAT, BECAUSE SO SMALL. 153 riage-drive with a very different step from the languid, dragging one, which he had noticed when he overtook her. No words perhaps could have so touched Escott as the sight of the effect produced by his own manner. That man must have indeed a hard nature who resists the evi- dence of the happiness he can impart. Certainly Escott could not, but Maud had not divined that the smile, which so cheered her, was a forced one — that it M'as as- sumed to hide one of those sudden qualms which come over us, as in the sunniest hour a passing cloud warns us that the sun will not always shine. Some resemblance, fancied or not, with poor Charity AVood, over whom he had not long ago read the service for the dead, had made Escott feel as if stabbed to the heart. Maud's eye had surely the same wistful inquiring expression, her mouth the same droop, her lips the same dark purple line betraying inward fever. In such mo- ments of panic we realize what the world would be to us without that creature whom we may have been distrust- ing, or undervaluing, or on whom we have, may-be, been emptying the vials of our pent-up irritation ; in plain words, bullying. A great deal of bullying may be carried on under the shelter of quiet manners, and the show of politeness. By degrees half-summoned, half-intruding themselves, came recollections of Maud's girlish goodness, her girlish dependence on his judgment, her girlish fondness, betrayed most, when most attempted to be concealed. His pride said no, to the inner voice of accusation — but his heart cried yes. "I believe I have been a selfish brute," he at last exclaimed — he had a comfort in calling himself by a hard name. He half turned to go back to the rectory and taking Maud to his heart, tell her he considered him- self a prig and a goose, for having tried to hide from her how precious she was to him. But that shyness of demonstration so innate to his cha- racter, stopped him, and he walked on thinking, "I will take the first opportunity of clearmg away the cloud from between us." How strange, that we are more often ashamed of our good than of our bad impulses. 154 SIORMISHING Escott had by this time reached the Hatch palings, when something to his surprise he heard the voice of Stephen Amos (the rector's churchwarden) raised in ex- postulation. Raised, that is, as high as comported with tenderness for his lungs, which he persisted, in the face of facts to the contrary, in believing to be in a very pre- carious state. The curate turned iii at the gate, and saw Amos with bent back talking in at the front door key- hole, and in his hands crossed behind him, several iron tools. Leaning against the wall by his side was the old gun with which the churchwarden went rabbit-shooting. A little to the right, half hid by some laurels, was the rural policeman. CHAPTER XXn. LE EEVENANT. ** WnY. Stephen, what's the matter?" asked Escott. VY " ^'^A bless me, sir," said Amos, straightening his back with the caution befitting a man rendered care- ful by lumbago. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Escott, but you startled nie, sir." " I may rctiu-n the compliment, Stephen," said the curate. " Well, what's wrong ?" " AVhy you see, sir," Stephen began in his usual hoarse, familiar whisper, " why you see, sir, all of a heap at din- ner, it came into my head like a flash of lightning, sir, that them boy's stories about lights and what not, why, sir, that it might be — thieves ;" the last word hissed into Escott's ear. " So says I to my missus, says I. I ain't a going to see that poor, persecuted lady robbed afore my eyes, no I ain't, and says she — ' You ain't a going on no account without a policeman, I can't allow it,' says she — 'la,' says she, 'yon may come on a whole gang, you may.' AVell, sir, policeman warn't at home just then, no more was Mr. (Jrcalorex, and it don't answer allays to be goiii' agon advice though it be your Avife as gov' it" — here a sly chuckle — '• .^o 1 hed to bide a bit. AVe brought the keys, but dang it, all the l)t)l(s inside is drawn, and LE REVENANT. 155 the pantry winder's fastened as never was afore, becase, ye sec, sir, it was so small — now, sir, that couldn't be done by ghosts, could it, sir ?" and Amos waited for an answer. " Probabilities are against it," said Escott. " I've bawled in that I'll fire through the keyhole and burst the door— but not a bit a' use— now, sir, I'm glad you're come to tell us what's best to be done." "The policeman had better go and watch the back of the house, while you take out a pane of glass : if we can- not then open the shutter, you can cut through it." " Very well, sir, I did think of that, but it w^as a responsibility to take on one's own shoulders," said Amos, as with alacrity he set about obeying Escott's directions. When the curate had first given these orders, he had readily accepted Araos's notion of thieves ; but while waiting till the old carpenter had removed the glass, another idea struck him. Perhaps Hans had returned during the night, wishing quietly to remove some of the articles left behind. He communicated this conjec- ture to Amos ; biit Amos slowly shook his head. " He ain't the man to do it, sir, and lard ! he couldn't a pushed hisself through the pantry winder," and Amos having removed the pane of one of the dining-room win- dows, undid the sneck, and throwing up the sash, easily cut a hole through the shutter, which enabled him to push up the cross-bar with which it was secured. Escott stepped in at the window followed by Amos, the policeman still remaining on guard outside. " Take care what you are about with that noble gun of yours," said Escott, perceiving that the churchwarden had not neglected to be prepared for the worst. " Don't be in a hurry to use it — put it at half cock." There was nothing to be seen in the dining-room, the drawing-room door was fastened within. "There, sir, you see there's something wrong," said Amos. "No doubt," replied the curate — he rapped with his knuckles saying, " Whoever is inside, had better not give us the trouble of forcing an entrance — the policeman is outside, and we have fire-arms ; thei-efore if you are in your senses, open the door" — no answer : — " Very well, I 156 SKIRMISHING. shall count three aloud," went on Escott, " and if the door is not opened, take the consequences. One — two — now when I pronounce the last number it will be instantly followed by our firing through the keyhole. The person left in charge is determined to protect the property in this house — you are fairly warned — I am going to say — " The door slowly opened. " George Brown ! Master George !" burst simulta- neously from Escott and the churchwarden ; though the drawing-room shutters were closed and the light from the hall was faint, still there was no mistaking the small short figure, even wrapped as it was in a cloak. Amos first recovered his surprise. " Lor' bless us. Master George, whatever in the wide wurruld be you a doing here ?" "That's my business," answered George. " Now you have satisfied your curiosity, perhaps you will be good enough to allow me the use of my mother's house ?" " My dear boy," said Escott, good-humouredly, " what is the reason of your forcing us to play at hide-and-seek ?" George was in that state of mhul when any thing ap- proaching to a joke, sounds like an insult. " Upon my word, Mr. Escott," he answered, " I think that question would come best from me. I had as little idea as wish that you should play at lluit game." Escott was accustomed to hear vibrations of anger in George's tones, but what he plainly detected now in them, was the qilivcring of fear ; the voice itself was hoarse and unequal. "Some new misfortune has happened to these poor creatures," said Escott to himself; he was still under the influence of his softened feelings — then aloud — "Amos, you had better tell the policeman his services arc not furlher rcquirexl." Amos lifted his hat and rubbed behind his ear, a sign of enil)arrassnieiit witli him; sidling up to the curate he asked in a wliisper, "Shall 1 tell you the truth, sir?" An awkward query. " Not just now — give him my message and bid him call on me in an lujur, and Anius, 1 fancy Master George might prefer speaking to me alone. You can wait for us, how- ever, and by-thc-byc make the house safe again." LE REVENANT. 157 Turning to George, whose egress from the drawing- room he had purposely barred by standing in the door- way, Escott said — " Now you must take me into your confidence, for you cannot remain here alone — allow me to shut the door and open the shutters." Even while speaking the curate had gently compelled George to go farther into the centre of the room, and had opened the shutters. George seated himself on the sofa with his back to the window. Escott stood near him, leaning on the mantelpiece, trying to read George's face in the waning light. "Your mother '!" began the curate, " is she with you ?" " Thanks ; my mother was safely at Ostcnd the night before last." "And yon, what are you doing here ?" George hesitated, then replied abruptly, " I am not at liberty to tell you." " You may be sure I will not force myself on your con- fidence, but cannot I be of some service ; there will be no possibility of concealing your being here — the least dan- ger of what you think right to keep secret, being dis- covered, will be for you to come to my lodgings. I can give you a room." " You are very good — but your home would not suit me." George made a very good attempt to resume his former jaunty manner, still it was clear enough that it was assumed. " Surely I can be of some use to you — help you." " Past helping," said George ; the words were almost lost in a desperate struggle with a rising sob. " I see there's something very wrong with you," said the curate ; " come now, try to believe me an elder brothei • — forget our former little misunderstandings. Why, you know wo had grown to be very good friends, let us shake hands like honest comrades. You'll find, if you trust me, that I am no mere fairweather acquaintance." Escott held out his hand. "I can't take it," said Georgo. "You can't be my friend, you wouldn't be, if you knew the truth." Escott was perplexed; such a phrase will set the most indulgent imagination speculating on possible delinquen- 158 SKIRMISHING. cies. Then his eye travelling over the childish figure of the self-accuser, the curate thought, " What error caa this mere boy have committed ? — probably after all he would have merely to listea to a confidence of hobbety- boyhood love." " Mr. Escott," said George suddenly, " -will you do me one favour ?" " Certainly." " Leave me ; go away ; I can manage perfectly for myself, I assure you." Escott had not been prepared for the request ; he was a little hurt, and said, " Well, I won't refuse you what you so kindly call a favour, but first tell me have you money for present exigencies ?" " Yes, yes, don't tell any one I am here. I hate a fuss." " I am not prepared to make you a promise of conceal- ment, even were secrecy possible, which it is not, con- sidering that Amos knows of your being here, and that the policeman will also expect an explanation as to who had made a forcible entrance into the house. Besides the more I reflect on the matter, the less I feel inclined to trust you to your own guidance. I feel responsible to your mother for your safe keeping. I suspect," and Escott fixed his eye firmly on George, " I suspect that she knows nothing of your return here ; in fact," laying his hand heavily on George's shoulder, " you have run away from her?" Escott felt the boy tremble, but in an instant he shrunk from under the curate's hold. "By what right do you interfere with me?" asked George, in a fierce shrill voice. "You know that my mother never liked you to have anything to do with me." "That's true; and as you liave reminded me of tliat, 1 will not pursue my first plan of insisting on your going home with me; but whether it pleases you or not, I shall see you safely under Mr. Greatorex's protection before we part company." " Don't, don't persecute me, Mr. Escott." The phrase irritated Escott — it sounded so extravagant and absurd. LE REVENANT. 159 " Persecute ! nonsense — be reasonable and come with me quietly. No one, I promise you, •will ask you any questions as to how or why you came hither, and my advice to you is to set off to-morrow and rejoin your mother." " Ask Amos to let me go to his house," said George, " and I will gq away to-morrow." "You are wrong," returned Escott; " why avoid your equals ?" " Oh ! Mr. Escott, do not urge me so hard ; let me go my own way — it will be better for everybody." " T shall not give you further advice, but I shall keep an eye on you," and Escott, calling in Amos, mentioned G-corge's wish. " Well, sir, I'm sure, I'm agreeable ; but Master George would be a deal more comfortable with you, or at the rec- tory, than with us — the schoolmistress she have our big- gest room, and we've only a closet besides without a fire- place — but if it'll do, why, sir, there it is." " It will do," said George in a low voice. Escott, touched by George's dejected tone and look, and moved also by some of that regret with which we look for the last time even on those in whom we take but a trivial interest, said, " I shall be at the rectory in the evening, and should you change your mind and wish to see me, send a mes- sage and 1 will come to you." As Escott paused, George said, "Thank you." The curate went on, "Then, I shall not say good-bye, but only good afternoon." "Good afternoon, sir." Escott thinking he descried signs of yielding in the boy, and that it might be the best way of managing him, to leave him to the working of the feelings natural to his age, said " au revoir," and left the room. He was scarcely in the hall, before George called after him hur riedly, " Mr. Escott." Escott stopped directly, " Well, what is it ?" he said, with what he meant to be an encou- raging smile, but it produced the contrary effect, for George added, " No, I needn't trouble you. Good after- noon." " Remember I shall expect to see you again before you leave to-morrow," said Escott. 160 SKIRMISHING. George nodded. Escott walked slowly away, expecting to be again re- called. " We shall have the confession before bedtime," he thought ; more curious than he would have owned, to discover the reasons that had brought George back to Eden. Amos, who had been standing by, remained a minute or two patient, but seeing George continue in the same position, as if utterly forgetful that there was any one waiting his pleasure, the carpenter said, "Now, Master George, it be a'most tea-time, and the missus be terrible punctual. Why, Lor a mercy, whatever ails the lad?" The moment Ajuos spoke, George burst into a passion of tears. " Dearie me, dearie me, and there's Mr. Escott fairly gone. Come now, sir, boys never oughtn't to cry like that. I'll lay anything now you're a bit hungry. You'll feel no end better for a cup of tea. Come now, sir." George made no answer, but lifting his cap from a table close by, walked quickly out of the door, Amos following. The good-natured man tried hard to find amusing conversation for his self-invited guest — but not a syllable could he win from George. CHAPTER XXIII. NEW LIGHTS. THE excitement Escott's talc produced at the rectory was, to speak within the bounds of truth, immense. The effect was to make the elders of the family change characters. Mrs. Lescrimifere was struck dumb by surprise, while Mrs. (rreatorcx became unusually talkative and declared herself unable to believe her own ears. " You actually saw him, spoke to him ?" she asked over and over again. Mild Mr. Greatorcx said, "1 have a great mind to send for the policeman and have the young monkey brought here whether he likes it or not. A Itad boy to be adding to his poor raothcr'a troubles at this moment." NEW LIGHTS. 161 " But what can have brought him back, and how did he come, and how has he got anything to eat ?" went on Mrs. Greatorex. " Walter, what a pity you hadn't thought of asking him if he had had any food, it's enough to make him ill, if he has been fasting ever smce last night, for I suppose he will turn out to be the ghost of the Hatch." They were all still in the thick of conjectures when James the footman came into the room, and in the voice peculiar to the bearer of important news, informed Mrs. Greatorex that Mrs. Amos would be glad to say a few words to her. " Beg Mrs. Amos to go into the library," and away hurried Mrs. Greatorex, saying as she went, " Now we shall get at the truth about Master Dodge." " Well, Mrs. Amos," began the rector's lady, " I fancy you have had as great a start as the rest of us." Mrs. Amos was a tall, square, spare woman, nicely dressed in black, as became the station of a church-war- den's wife ; — her bonnet mdeed was in the height of the fashion. Her manner at all times was prim, such as you often find in women who have had no children to make them forget themselves. Mrs. Amos became doubly starched when nervous, and was so slow in delivering herself of what she had come to say, that she nearly made her present curious listener wring her hands with impatience. " Yes'm — of course it came on me quite sudden like, and as you knows, Mrs. Greatorex, it don't answer very well for me to get them starts. I don't get over it so easy as other folks — it's my constitution, my mother and me and all my family were the same — we couldn't stand being started," and here Mrs. Amos came to a full stop. " I wish Mr. Escott could have persuaded Master George to come to us," said Mrs. Greatorex, adding with resignation, " but sit down, Mrs. Amos ; I hope you have nothing worse to tell me of, than a boyish freak." Mrs. Amos took from her pocket a large linen pocket- handkerchief, and contemplating its hem, said very guttu- rally, " I ain't used to be taken so quick, and to speak my mind, Mrs. Greatorex, I don't think Amos, knowing me as he docs, ought to have done it ; but women ain't 14* 162 SKIRMISHING. prophets to find out all they'll have to bear when they marry, and a man somehow always do manage to worrft one's feelings." " Come, Mrs. Amos, I am sure you have no good reason to complain of your husband. Every one knows what a respect he has for your opinion, but now tell me if I can help you with your visitor ?" " That's what I am coming to, Mrs. Greatorex ; there's more wrong about this young gentleman coming here thdn we guesses at — he won't come into the parlour, nor swaller even a cup of tea, and when we listens at the door, we hears a noise as if he were crying with his head under the bed-clothes — it's a providence 'm there ain't nothing more nor a latch to the closet, so he can't lock himself in or he'd do it — and now 'm if you or the rector would step up and see what's to be done — it's a fine night sure, or 1 wouldn't bog it of you." " I'll ask -Mr. Greatorex what he thinks best," said the lady. When the rector had hoard Mrs. Amos's account he said, " I'll go myself and bring the young man here. I have no idea of our all yielding to his vagaries," and the rector put on his clerical hat, which he always did when he went to remonstrate with oflenders. Mr. Great- orex had a quiet way of carrying his point, when he thought it worth while, so no one doubted but George would return with him. In half an hour steps were heard in the hall, and a minute afterwards, Mr. Greatorex put in his head at the drawing-room door and said, " Grandmamma, you are wanted." When Mrs. Lcscrimibre obeyed the summons, the rector whispered, " He is in the dining-room, strike while the iron's hot. I have had a sore struggle to bring him here ; he has promised to tell you what's the matter with him." Mrs. Lcscrimiore fir.st shut the dining-room door, llicn ^aid in her most cordial voice, " "Why, Dodge, my dear boy, what makes you wish to keep out of our way ? AVhalever is wrong, will be <^asiei put to riglits willi llie help of friends than without;" she was now close to him. NEW LIGUTS. 16 o For one instant be stood motionless, then suddenly throwing his arms round her neck, he clung to her with the convulsive grasp of terror, saying, in a broken whisper, " Save me, save me." " Child, child, what have you done ? tell me ; we will protect you, but tell me truly what it is ?" Mrs. Lescrhnifere was obliged to use all her strength to support him, and then through chattering teeth, she heard his avowal. " Hush, hush — don't shake so — it's no crime," said Mrs. Lescrimifere, in a low tone. George had fainted. " Here's a pretty business," muttered the old lady to herself as she laid the senseless form on the floor, and ran to fetch her daughter. Within an hour every one in the rectory knew, even to the smallest child, that George Brown had turned out to be a young lady instead of a young gentleman. Mrs. Greatorex bore the shock of the discovery won- derfully well. We constantly see persons who are easily disturbed by petty annoyances, bear great ones with praiseworthy equanimity. This was pretty much the case with Mrs. Greatorex ; she felt herself now fairly caught in the net of misery and mischance entangling the Browns, and showed a placidity that none of the rest of her family could equal. Mr. Greatorex was more perturbed than he had ever been since his marriage — Maud half frightened, Escott in a boiling indignation ; he paced up and down the room, repeating again and again, — "It's unpardonable, the case must be indeed a desperate one which could excuse such a deception on us all." At last Maud took courage and said, — " AVe must remember that Mrs. Brown did all she could to avoid us, we intruded on her." " Maud," exclaimed Escott : " you are too good yourself, to understand how thoroughly wrong the conduct of these people has been ;" he added more to himself than her, " it is despairing to think how evil runs so closely alongside of our best efforts to do good." Mr. Greatorex, who had not heard what Escott was 164 SKIRMISHING. saying, observed that lie was very sorry that he had spoken so harshly that evening to the poor young thing, — "but how," added he, looking at his irate curate, — "how was I ever to imagine I was talking to a girl." " How indeed !" repeated Escott, and continued his quick step. " It's quite true what Maud said, we have only our- selves to blame — we must just accept the consequences," said the rector. An answer rose to Escott's lips, but he caught sight of Maud's anxious face and repressed it. Mrs. Greatorex presently came in to say, that she thought they had better send for Mr. Ilunt — " the poor girl's head was wandering." Mr. Greatorex agreed, and left the room to give the necessary orders, for Mr. Hunt, the surgeon of the Union, lived three miles off. " There must have been a motive for his coming back here — I mean her," said Escott, correcting himself. " I .«hall never be able to think of her but as George Brown. Do you know why she returned ?" Mrs. Greatorex hesitated, and turned away from Escott's inquiring look saying,- — "We shall find out by-and-by. I suppose I had better go and see what's doing upstairs," and left Maud and Escott to a (ete-d-tete. Escott had not addressed himself more than once to Maud, yet she knew perfectly well that they Avere friends again — nay, she was conscious of having gained a new power. She said to him with new-born frankness, — " You are too hard on the Browns." "Am I ?" he answered. " Well, if I am, forgive me for that and for many other hardnesses, will you Y" "Forgive you? Walter, you were quite right and 1 was quite wrong." He smiled : the smile was not free of sadness, and said, — '■ " Long may you look at mo througli tlie glasses you MOW wear, dear Maud — " and tlion their talk became only interesting to themselves. Escott (lid not leave the rectory till after the arrival of the medical man. Mr. Hunt depressed the ladies' spirits " SCATTERED FOAM, THAT'S IIER HISTORY." 165 to his heart's satisfaction, by allowing that he perceived incipient symptoms of brain fever, and then managed by dexterous questions to elicit much more of the Browns' story than Mrs. Greatorex wished to impart. Having prescribed, the surgeon rode off with an exhilarating dose of gossip for his next day's patients. Every one knows how rapidly news spreads — particu- larly sinister news. In a few minutes after the Due de Berri was assassinated, the fact was known at the other end of Paris ; and oh ! after Mr. Hunt's visit, what a tide of talk flowed through the parish, what a confusion of persons, and ideas, and names ! It was astonishing, if the speakers were to be believed, how many there were who had suspected the truth, "only it was not their way to trouble their heads about their neighbors' affairs ;" it sounded, however, vastly like prophesying after the fact. Mrs. Greatorex indeed, and she might be relied on, said she had had her suspicious excited by what Mr. Twyford had told her husband; her doubts, however, were not forty-eight hours old. Never had Escott felt more uncomfortable than when he left the rectory that night. He walked as men walk who carry an over-burden — he was indeed weighted by a thought which he resisted as one resists a bitter enemy — a thought born of Mrs. Greatorex's strange reticences when he pushed her on the subject of the return of the disguised girl to Eden, spurred by some recollections of his own. " This all comes," quoth he, " of leaving the safe and beaten paths traced by experience." CHAPTER XXI V^ " SCATTERED FOAM, THAT's HER HISTORY." IF any one had prophesied three days before to Mrs. Greatorex, that she would eagerly welcome Mrs. Brown, (so late the object of her suspicions,) as a guest at the rectory on Christmas Day, and that she would not close her eyes the night before from anxiety about George, 166 SKIRMISHING. I Mrs. Greatorcx would have set dovm such a prophet as a false one. Yet so it was. Early on Christmas morn- ing a fly stopped at the rectory gate, and out of it stepped Mrs. Brown, pale and fatigued, with that peculiar look of distress in her face, of disorder in her dress, which arises from a pressure of mental anxiety joined to a night passed in travelling. A very few lines will suffice to explain how Mrs. Brown and George had left Eden, and how it happened that the latter had been able to return thither. Long before dawn they had set off for the station, distance three miles, carrying a small bag, containing a few necessary articles; they had luckily met no one who could recognize them, and had been in time for one of the down trains to Dover. The Ostend steamer was to leave at four in the afternoon. Mrs. Brown got her passport vi's^d and then remained, she and the disguised George, in a qiiiet out of the way hotel till it was time to embark. Immediately on going on board, Mrs. Brown went down to the lady's cabin, and it was then that George managed to slip back on shore ; and Mrs. BroMTi was half way across, before she had the slightest suspicion of what had occurred — not indeed, till paying the steward for the two tickets, she had begged him to see after a short young gentleman with fair, curly hair, and to let her know how he was. The steward had returned in a few minutes to say, that he could find no young gontloman answering to that des- cription. The poor lady was half distracted ; she scarcely so much feared an accident, as that George had gone back to Eden; she had sufficient grounds for this conjecture. There was only one thing for her to do — at all risks she must return by the next boat — but the passage was longer than usual, and when she reached Ostend, the steamer for England was already out of harboi;r. By this unlucky delay of a d:iy she had missed finding Hans .still at the Jlalcli ; lie had left the evening before, as ])re- urranged, to join her at Ostend. Finding the Hatch locked up and too evidently empty, Mrs. Brown had then driven to John Earl's, lio))ing that (ieorge might liave taken refuge there. Kind Miss Earl had cniiglilened the poor motlier as to her child's safety, of lier being at tho rectory, and of the discovery that liad ensued. "scattered foam, that's her mSTORY." IGT Mrs. Greatorex actually kissed Mrs. Brown in the pas- sage before all the maids ; a greeting wliich went fur to satisfy their minds, that Mrs. Brown might be unfortu- nate, but could not have been guilty of any misdemeanor. " You must have a cup of tea before you see " Mrs. Greatorex paused— from habit she was going to say your son, but remembered in time that the son had become a daughter. " George, you would say," Mrs. Brown said. " Her name is Georgiana, but she has almost always gone by the name of George — it was begun in joke from her being such a romp ;" the poor mother sighed. "And I don't think we could ever learn a new name," said Mrs. Greatorex. "I am glad to give you a good report, she is doing as well as possible, only we must avoid agitation, for she was a little light-headed during the night." "I will do as you advise," replied Mr.^. Brown, and then Mrs. Greatorex began to understand that the poor woman's apparent calmness was the passiveness of ex- treme exhaustion. " I must take you in hand as a patient also," said the rector's wife ; " you must be sent to bed, after you have had some breakfast. In the meanwhile we will break the news of your arrival to Georgey." " Yes, I think that will be best," returned Mrs. Brown, too worn out for resistance. Mrs. Lescrimifere prepared Georgey as carefully as possible for seeing her mother. When Mrs. Brown ap- peared at the bed-side and stooped to kiss the poor little face eagerly turned to her, George exclaimed, " Oh ! mother, forgive me ; I have done wrong, but no harm has come to me." Mrs. Brown's very lips turned blue, but she shed no tear, uttered no word. " Mother, mother, don't look so," cried George, sitting bolt upright in the bed; "the wickedness is gone out of me." Mrs. Lescrimifere here interfered, and said that she could allow of no exciting conversations ; by-and-by there would be plenty of time for explanations. Mrs. Brown sat by the sleeping girl — there was no 168 SKIRMISHING. light in the room, save that from the fire ; shadows quivered over the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Some one, was it not David Scott ? painted a picture, representing a widow seated at the tomb of her husband, from out of which rose the ladder of memory, and on every rung or round the vision of some scene of the widow's past life. There was the first meeting, the betrothal, the marriage, the first-born, and so on until the last parting, lost in the pitying heavens. Mrs. Brown, as she kept lonely watch by her unhappy child's bed, was gazing at some similar phantoms. The past thrust itself forward on her (as it docs on us all one day or other), she saw plainly the first mistake which had coloured her life, without which she would not have had the trials that now afflicted her ; she saw (as we are all one day or other forced to do), how the false step might have been avoided, that she had erred (as we all do) through her own wilfulness, that the door of escape had been open, and then — she shrunk from further self-com- muning — for deep, deep, in the secret places of her soul was a diuilit, a doulit full of remorse, whctlior she entirely repented of, and regrelted that which had been. For she had been so happy ! A gleam from the golden past shone over her even now. She breathed again the perfumed air of the l)eautiful glen in which .'ilie had first met the man she had so truly, so constantly loved, she heard again his voice, his very words, and her whole be- ing thrilled, as though that tender whisper was even now spoken in lier ear. She felt the very touch of his hand, and a vivid, long unknown sensation of hnjipiness came over her. Tlie sudden opening of a door below, and the sound of children's merry voices brought her back to the dark present. In a few niinules, Mrs. Lescriniibre put her head into the sick-room, and perceiving that (jeorge was asleep, beckoned Mrs. IJrown away, saying, " We'll send Nurse to take ymir ])]aro. T have some thing to show yoii." Slie took Mrs. Brown into lier own room. "Sit down, my dear," began Mrs. LescrimitTC in u motherly tone; "and read this elliision. prudently ad- dressed to me ;" she Iiiindcd a note t(,i Mrs. I'rown. "scattered foam, that's her history." 169 It was written iu the schoolmistress's best hand, and ran as follows : — " Dear Madam, " I THINK it a duty to let some one at the rectory know what has come to my cars. As it has no reference to the school, I do not feel at liberty to address the Rev. Mr. Greatorex — nor perhaps Mrs. Greatorex ou this subject ; that is my reason for troubling you, madam. I have been reproached as the cause of all the late trouble to some persons lately residing in this parish, I need not say who. 80 as a christian, particularly at this holy season of the year, I shall try to return good for evil. It has been mentioned to me, on the best authority, that our police- man is going early to-morrow on business to Z . A word to the wise is enough. Be so obliging as only to speak of this note, to whom it concerns. " Your obedient servant, " Albinia Cox." " She means he is going for a summons for me," ex- claimed Mrs. Browni, starting to her feet. " Can they not leave me in peace even for one day ?" Mrs. Lescriraifere could scarcely recognize the voice and look with which these words were uttered, as those of the placid Mrs. Brown. It was in truth the cry of impatience extorted from one on the rack, by the sting of a gnat. "Do not agitate yourself unnecessarily," the old lady said soothingly, " if you are determined, really determined not to appear as a witness . . . ." " Quite — quite," interrupted Mrs. Brown ; " I could not do it — no one would ask me, who knew all — the whole world may blame him, I cannot — more, I will not." Mrs. Lescrimitre was going to speak, when Mrs. Brown continued with a rapidity quite startling, " I know he did wrong." " Been cruel and seltish ?" broke in Mrs. Lescrimiere. " No — not cruel to me— no, never, you don't know, how can you, how happy I have boon ; sixteen years of hap- piness, is that to count for nothing, to merit no gratitude — what was I, till I knew him ? I was not of his station " 15 170 SKIRMISHING. "Stop," said Mrs. Lescrimifere decidedly, "I beg youi pardou, my dear, for being so abrupt, but you are talking nonsense ; -whether you were princess or peasant, this Mr. Bouverie (it's no use keeping up the mystification), this Mr. Bouverie knew perfectly well, he was ruining your life, that of another woman who had trusted him, and also breaking the laws of his country I have no pity to spare for him. I only wish he had me to deal with. I would not sheRer him." " But I have loved him," said Mrs. Brown in her usually subdued tone, her hands over her face, " and I cannot in- jure him." " Well, I shall not dispute the point with yoii," said Mrs. Lescrimifere. "I have no right to dictate to you, nor to ask you to adopt my mode of thinking, but were I in your place, I would prove my own innocence, prove that I had been sinned against, not sinning." " And what would that do for me? Would it cancel the past — restore my heart to what it was when I first knew him — the world's good opinion cannot do that for me — God Himself cannot annihilate that which has once been. He can pardon, and make our crimson sins white as snow — but the sins have been — they are as imperisha- ble as our spirit." " Poor soul !" ejaculated Mrs. Lescrimifere, gently forcing Mrs. Brown to sit down again, and holding her band. " Poor soul I tell me what I can do to help you, and I will do it." "Dear, kind lady ! — get me out of England." " My son and daughter will, I am sure, let you have the carriage to take you to Dover — that will bo better than the railway for you." " 'J'hank you, thank you," then suddenly she added, "but Georgey, she cannot be moved yet." "Have you no friends who would take charge of her tor you — no one to apply to in thi.s hour of trouble?" Airs. Brown shook her lunid sadly. "1 was an ori)lian almost from my l)irlh, and Hie rela- tions who brought mc up and who provide me with my present means of subsistence, have my promise that I will never inflict on tbciii llic scandal of our ])resence, or be tlie means of bringing tlieir names associated with "scattered foam, that's her history." 171 mine before the public — they are severe, unrelenting, but they prevent our having the additional trial of actual poverty to contend with. I need scarcely say," added Mrs. Brown, a scarlet flush spreading itself over her face, "that since he confessed his real situation tome, all communication between us has ceased." " I believe in you thoroughly," said Mrs. Lescrimifere. " I will undertake the charge of Georgcy, and when she is able to travel I will send her with my maid to meet you wherever you write to say you will wait for her." "I never — no, never shall have any means of proving to you my undying gratitude," said Mrs. Brown — " but I am grateful." She sat silent a while, only a slight vibra- tion of the head evidencing her inward emotion. " Poor Georgey," she Ijegan. " I hope you will all forgive her; her disguise was not her own doing, it was advised as a means towards our escaping recognition. Sh-e was always of an ■excitable temperament, and I fear that her education fostered instead of correcting her faults — she was encouraged in boy's habits and amuse- ments. Poor child ! she was delighted at having a mys- terious part to play — and over acted it." " Georgey's faults are not those which prevent her being loved — we are all deeply interested in you both," said Mrs. Lescrimiiire. Mrs. Brown looked into the kind woman's face and said, " Don't think me cold, if I beg now to go away and remain alone with George." "You shall do as you like," said Mrs. Lescrimibre, "but if you would take my advice you would leave George to Nurse and try to have a quiet night." " I shall sleep best by her side, it will perhaps prevent bad dreams," said Mrs. Brown. When Mrs. Brown returned to the sick girl, ISIrs. Lescrimifere went to the drawing-room and told Mr. and Mrs. Greatorcx of the warning that she had received as to the policeman's movements, without betraying the source from whence derived, and also of her consequent promises in their name as to hospitality to George, and the loan of the carriage to take Mrs. Brown to Dover. 112 SKIRMISHING " Oh ! let her have the carriage certainly," said Mrs. Greatorex with undissembled alacrity, " and of course Georgey can stay here till she is able to travel." "My dear ladies," said Mr. Greatorex, "you are all alarming yourselves unnecessarily. I have been making inquiries as to the risks and perils of witnesses, and I find that even after a subpoena has been served on any one, the consequences are practically nil, unless the witness has already appeared before a magistrate and been bound over to appear on the trial. Mrs. Brown can stay here per- fectly well until her daughter is fit to be moved. Believe me, a witness cannot be carried off by force like a criminal ; our laws have an extreme tenderness for the liberty of the subject." "I do beg," said Mrs. Greatorex, turning to her hus- band, "that you will not interfere with Mrs.Brown's very natural wish to get away. I am sorry for her, still I must consider my own family. It is bad enough to have been already so mixed up in a most unpleasaut story, the sooner we extricate ourselves from it, the better; besides, it could answer no good purpose to detain her." "Well, well, let her go," replied Mr. Greatorex. "I hope we shall not be hauled over tlie coals for spiriting away witnesses," he added, laughing ; '• however, to do the thing handsomely, I had better go with lier and see her safely on board a steamer." "You ! !" exclaimed the rector's wife, in a tone of hor- rified astonishment. "You! go with Mrs. Brown? why just fancy how every one would talk." "And if they talked themselves to death, ray dear Louisa," said Mrs. Lescrimiere, " what harm could that do your kind husband?" "No, that is a thing I will not allow," continued Mrs. Greatorex, without replying to her mother. "AVe have, done quite enough; I am sure Mrs. Brown herself would object to such a proposal, or she is not as grateful as she professes to be. Oh, mother ! how imprudent you are ! when you know as well as I do, how ready every one is to throw stones at the church and the clergy. Just reflect, how it would look to see Mr. (Jreatorex travelling about the country lS(c-d-lStc with sucii a l)cautifnl woman as Mrs. J5rown, to whom besides such a story is atr tachcd." GONE. lis " How odd you should be my daughter !" ejaculated Mi"S. Lescrimifere. " Oh ! my dear mother, don't be too severe on me," exclaimed Mrs. Greatorex, warned by a spark in her mother's eye, and a certain rigidity in the lines ol" the mouth. Mrs. Lescrimifere took a long breath, and said, — " My dear, I'll be merciful — besides I believe you are right. I'll go myself, and Greatorex, comfort your wife in private, by telling her that every one knows my eccen- tricity, and no one doubts my respectability. Sleep well, my Louisa, you are a good daughter, good wife, good mother, don't deny yourself occasionally one of the best rewards of an unspotted life, that of holding out a pro- tecting hand to those who, from adverse circumstances, not guilt mind you, may require a moral support, and so good-night, and God bless you both." CHAPTER XXV GONE. MRS. LESCRIMIERE was as good as her word. She accompanied Mrs. Brown to Dover, and saw her safely on board the steamer for Ostend. Escott, who thought he understood, and certainly shared in Mrs. Brown's wish that they two should not meet, and had consequently kept away from the rectory since her ar- rival there, had by accident a sight of her as she and Mrs. Lescrimiferc drove out of Eden. The sharp way in which Mrs. Brown turned aside from his glance and bow con- firmed the curate in his suspicions as to the cause of Georgey's wild act. Yet the look of repugnance with which the beautiful, sorrowful face turned from him made Escott wince. " She is unjust !" he said to himself — " she is like a child who is wroth with the table against which it has struck its head. I was as innocent of all wish to harm her or hers, as any stock or stone. I meant well when, overcoming my repugnance, I strove to let in light oa the ifi* 114 SKIRMISHING. darkened soul of her child. It is I, who ought to resent the ridiculous situations in -n^hich I have been placed by such masquerading." Escott smarted under his first experience of being mis- judged, and by one on whom he had thought to have a claim for gratitude. He was keenly sensitive to blame, at the same time that he had in him the something of hardness which belongs to the young, strong, untried up- right man, who has never yet been taught gentleness, by having felt himself on the verge of falling. Yes, when we meet one who has a tender, generous indulgence for others, we may make sure that " he has suffered — being tempted." " He that works me good vrith unmoved face, does it but half, he chills me while he aids, my benefactor — not my brother man." In the " moved face" lies the secret of the success of the charity, or the consolations we offer to one another. Hitherto Escott had lived in a charmed circle of love and approbation, feeling no urgent need for sympathy — but as the bitter of olives improves the taste of the best wine, so did his present vexation make him sensible of the full sweetness of Maud's faith in him. Though all the world might misunderstand him, she would not. Once at this point he may be safely left to his tctc-dAete with nature. Far away reaching to an indefinite horizon rolled the vast relentless sea ; close by his side, the little clear spring which had bubbled up from beneath a cool mossy stone, went rippling merrily along, doing its modest duty by the pastures and the milky mothers. Sea and rivulet, fields and aromatic fir-woods, spoke to him in voices, " sent by some spirit to mortals good," conjuring away all the clinging cobwebs spun by mortified feelings. Now we must return to the rectory. Whatever face Mrs. Creatorex miglit wear to the world; however genuinely kind to the sick girl, she was not the less in a fever of anxiety to he quit of her guest. All sorts of reports had got abroad respecting the Browns, in which the Greatorexes figured projninently. Letters asking for explanations, letters epigrammatic, letters of condolence, ttowcd in, backed by visits par- GONE. n5 taking of the different characters of the letters. Mrs. Grcatorex had to defend herself both in writing and speaking. She was on her trial, it seemed. Mrs. Lons- dale was the flower of all her visitors. She came into the rectory drawing-room with a " Well, Mrs. Greatorex, a nice scrape you and I are in, every one is open-mouthed at our imprudence — it's fortunate, I say, that it's no worse — goodness, it might have been swindling or murder, or infanticide, you know — every one wonders how you and I ever called on a person that nobody knew anything about. I always say, I should never have done it, had you not introduced her to me. I am sure never was anything more like one of those stupid stories in a novel than this, which we know to be actually true. It is bigamy, isn't it ? I am dying to read the ,trial, it's to come on after the 11th, Mr. Lonsdale says. And the boy, oh ! heavens, I mean the girl — how well Willie's name for her suited — Dodge — capital — the cap fitted there. What does she look like dressed as a girl — I'd give anything to see her, do you think she would mind seeing me ?" " She is not able to bear any excitement," said Mrs. Greatorex, very coldly. "What on earth made her come back here? They say Mr. Escott was the one to discover where she was hidden — I suppose you know that it's against the law for a woman to dress herself in man's clothes ?" " A woman ! she's a mere child," replied Mrs. Great- orex, adding, in a severe tone, — " By-the-bye, Mrs. Lons- dale, what was your authority for telling Lady Marston that you wore sure a curate not a hundred miles off hadn't been so blind as the rest of us ?" " Authority ! my dear creature ! besides, I didn't say I was sure, I said I wondered if he had been taken in. Somebody told me he was very intimate at the Hatch, walking about with the youth and teaching him. You can't stop people's tongues — as for me I have always pro- tested I was not in the secret — that I took the Browns on trust, thinking I might, as I met them here. Lady Marston said it was well I had no young girls about me." " Fiddle-faddle !" exclaimed Mrs. Greatorex, roused to chow that she had inherited some of her mother's spirit ; " as if Lady Marston had never rubbed against some 176 SKIRMISHING. thing not half so good as Mrs. Brown. I hate such hy- pocrisy." " Well, for my part," said Mrs. Lonsdale, " I've no ill-will to Mrs. Brown — only it's imprudent to have any thing to do with people under a cloud." Here was Mrs. Greatorex's own argument presented to her, and very unpalatable it tasted. Mrs. Lonsdale went on, — " I shall come and congratulate you the day you get rid of the whole set. You can't imagine what jokes there are. Don't be afraid, I am not going to repeat them, only I warn you, Mr. Lonsdale says he heard a parcel of young men declare they should come ard take up their quartc'rs at Eden to get a sight of Miss George." Mrs. Greatorex immediately sent for Mr. Hunt, to ask if the young girl was not sufficiently convalescent to travel. Mr. Hunt was at a loss what to say on the subject; he acknowledged he could not account for such a jirostra- tion of strength — the amount of fever she had had did not, according to him, warrant her state of weakness. The two elder ladies could have enlightened him, but they contented themselves with hoping that Maud and Escott were as much in the dark as the doctor. It was a great deal of l)lindness to expect of Maud. Does not every woman who feels as Maud felt towards Escott, sus- pect every other single one of her sex of seeing with her eyes, and feeling with her heart ? The rector's lady being a prudent person, never rested till she had brought Mr. JIunt to agree that the time was come when cliange of air would benefit the invalid ; and accordingly Mrs. Lescrimii;re wrote to that effect to ]\Irs. Brown, Poste Kestante, Ostend, adding that they would hasten Georgcy's going, so that she might be out of Eng- land before tlie coming on of a certain case for trial. It was a delicate task to ])reparc Georgey for lier im- mediate departure; but Mrs. Lescrimi^re did so with every maternal ])recaution. To save her the pains of anticii)atiun, nothing was said till the morning of the day fixed for her leaving the rectory. Georgey remained silent for awhile after she understood the intimation. Mr.s. LescrimiJsrc continued speaking to GONE. nt her caressingly, passing her fingers through the fair curls clustering so thickly over the poor girl's head. Georgey at last drew down the kind hand, and holding it tightly between her own, said in a thick, tremulous voice, — " I want to tell you something before I go, don't let any one come in here." Mrs. Lescrimifere said, — " I'll lock the door, and, my dear, I am willing to listen to you, but pause and ask yourself if you have a right to say what you are desirous of saying." " Yes, yes, it's about myself," said Georgey, impatiently, and then lapsed again into silence, her rapid changes of colour showing a sharp inward struggle, — then she went on petulantly,^" I don't know where to begin, it's all such a confusion. I am not good, Mrs. Lescrimifere, and that's why I am so unhappy, I suppose. I hated Mr. Escott because he looked with such holy horror on me Avhencver I met him. I did all I could to vex him. When I first went to church it was to make game of him — for we never used to go to church — there were only Catholics where we lived, and my father said that the only sensible way to worship God was by loving and admiring His works. I hated Mr. Escott too, because he thought ill of my mother, and only on account of her not going to church ; he took care that every one in the village should know he thought ill of us. She read her Bible as much as any one, and tried to make me do so. I felt that she was better than he was, for when I told her what was said, she answered, that if she went against the habits of the persons she lived amongst, she must expect to be blamed. She had no objection to going to church, only perhaps by staying away, it might prevent our being visited, which was what she wished. Oh ! Mrs. Lescri- mifere, I did not hate him any more when I saw him go away, all wet as he was, to old Betsey Curtis, and then Charity Wood " Georgey hid her face in her hands. "There, never mind telling me any more," said Mrs. Lescrimiere, " I understand ; it was not very wonderful ; poor little girl, poor little girl." " Mamma wanted to go away — weeks ago — and I would not let her. I did not wish for anything, except that he should know I cared for him. I did not want him to care 178 SKIRMISHING. for me, I was not so bad as that — I felt as if then I could go away happy. I could not bear his indiffereut way of speaking to me, as if he tried to do me good just as he would Larry Earl, as a matter of duty, for his conscience' sake. I wished to do right, and yet, I can't tell how it was, I longed for something to happen that would let me do wrong." " Poor dear child ! poor dear child !" murmured Mrs. Lescrimifere. " Yes, yes," went on Georgey, with a dry sob checking her words, " I used to hide among the trees on the Castle Hill, and see him coming here and — and — it was like as if some evil spirit got into me. I could have killed him sometimes, and in my heart I wished evil to him and Miss Maud, and then 1 would cry and pray; yes, I did pray God to make him happy. I could not go away for ever with- out seeing him, 1 did not dare to go to his lodgings ; I believe I was half mad when I ran away from the steamer; I walked all the way back and I didn't feel tired. I met Larry Earl, and I frightened him with lucifcr matches to get rid of him, and then I went home. I knew the pantry window would not fasten, and I squeezed through it into the house. 1 did not sleep all night," — hero there came a breathless pause, then hastily — " I longed to do some- thing that would make him sufl'er." . . . Georgey lay back, f anting on the sofa on which she was resting, "and now, have disgraced myself for ever, and 1 can't bear any to look at me but you. Miss Maud is so good, so happy, I try not to mind, but it gives me pain to see her. Arc yon angry with me ?" she asked, as Mrs. Lescrimifere turned her head aside to wipe her eyes ; " pray don't be, I am not worth being angry with, no more than a poor worm." " Angry ! poor child," and Mrs. Lescrimifere put her arms round the small figure, smaller than ever now. "Don't let him hate me, don't, oh! pray don't," whis- pered Georgey; "tell liira 1 will romcmlnsr all he has said to me, I will go to church, I will try to be good, and then he will forgive mo." " There's no question of forgiveness between him and vou, (jeorgey ; he is grieved at your imprudence, but be nas never spoken of you save with kindness." " Thank you," said Georgey, very softly ; emotion had qnitc taken away her voice. GONE. 119 Mrs. Lescrimibrc perceived how well it was tliat Georgey was to leave Edea directly : with the caress of a tender mother she said cheerfully, " You will begin from to-day, from this moment to act so as to give Mr. Escott the best of rewards for the interest he has shown in you — tliat of knowing you are brave in well-doing, forgetting yourself to comfort your mother." Gcorgey's face lighted up at these words. "But how will he know?" she asked with the persis- tence of a child. Mrs. Lescrimifere was one who believed that our human affections are given us to lead us to spiritual love: further she thoaght that, in moral maladies, as in physical ones, the remedy may be found in a poison. So she replied with a yearning to give consolation, " But we are not going to lose sight of one another altogether. 1 shall write to you, and you will answer my letters, and whatever progress you tell me you have made, I will mention to your good friend." Georgcy's head drooped. The idea of absence so plainly stated was more than she could bear. " Now, dear love," went on Mrs. Lescrimifere, " we must think of setting off: the days are short, and I do not like travelling in the dark." " So soon ?" cried Georgey, with a gasp. " Courage, courage — come, begin your task of conquer- ing self at once." "I am so young, — only sixteen. I have been such a short time in the world, and it seems all over for me," said Georgey, with the piteous face of a sorrowful child. " Very short time indeed, dear," said Mrs. Lescrimifere, soothingly; it was not the moment while the wound was yet green, to speak of the possibility of happiness. " You have been a very short time in the world, and I have been a long time, yet I never knew but that doing wliat was right, brought peace." Georgey did not hear the old lady's words. " He is just come into the porch," she said, her eyes with eager pleading in tlicm fixed on Mrs. Lescrimitire. *' You would like to bid him good-bye, Georgey ?" The girl nodded. " "Well, make haste and put on your dress." 180 SKIRMISHING. Gcorgey stared — the few days slic had been up, she had lain on the sofa in a dressing-go'svn and covered with shawls. Now, one of jSlaud's dresses had been shortened for her to wear during her journey. " No, no, no — not dressed as a girl, let him come and saj^ good-bye, so," and she shrunk down among her heap of wraps. " Pray do, I want just to say thank you. You know you said yourself he had been kind to me. I'll go away quite quietly afterwards." " Very well, so be it," said Mrs. Lescriraifere ; she could not resist the anguish of the girl's look and voice. When Escott was told of Georgey's request, he said, — " I have a horror of leave-takings and scenes." " Don't refuse, Walter," said Maud. " Will you come with me ?" he asked. "I will be your chaperone," said Mrs. Ijcscrimifere. " Come, it will only be a disagreeable five minutes, and it will rid the child of the idea that vou are angrv with her." As they were going upstairs Escott said, "And what am 1 to call her. Miss George or Miss Ijrown ?" "You need not call her by any name," replied Mrs. Lcscrimifere ; "Ihc least said will be best. Tell lier you will not forget Ium- and that you hope to hear good news, shake hands and be oil'." Nothing but Georgey's head was visible when Escott went up to the sofa. "I ain come to wish you good-bye and a pleasant jour- ney," he said. yhc looked up quickly at him. She did nut know all that her eyes revealed. She did not speak. " Mrs. Lescrimi^rc has warned me tliat we are only to e.xchangc farewells," went on Escott, his heart as well as liis voice involuntarily softening at the sight of the small pale face upturned to him. "Wo shall often have good accounts of ynu 1 h(i]>e. 1 dare say some of your friendn here will send you in return a history of what's goinuf on in the parish. 1 am sure you will always care to hear ibout Eden." (jeorgey tried to smile. Ah ! whoever has seen such fv 'l)nsm of ])ain on a human countenance will understand what Hcnt Mrs. LcscrimiiTc to thi- wind-'w. GONE. 181 " Good-bye, George," said Escott moved, and in the liurry of new-bora pity, using the familiar name as he held out his hand. Georgey could hardly raise hers, it felt as heavy as lead, making a supreme effort she dropped it into his. " Good-bye, George." Iler eyes on him always, but no word ; he turned to look at her again as he reached the door, always her eyes on him — he bowed his head. A gasp from Georgey told Mrs. Lcscrimifere that Escott was gone — she drew the girl's head to her bosom. " It's all dark," muttered Georgey, " dark, I can't see." An hour after, the brougham was at the door, Georgey already in it, Mrs. Lescrimifere's foot on the step, when Charlie, hot and breathless, rushed in at the gate. " Stop, grandmamma !" he whispered to her, " the policeman is waiting just opposite the school-house. I'm sure it is for Georgey." " Ay, indeed," said Mrs. Lescrimifere, " well, we must take the top road," and then to the coachman, " go by the common, Thomas, as quickly as you can." Thomas understood, and made the old horse step out his best. Thus mother and daughter at last escaped unmolested. On that evening, Mr. Greatorex wound up his day's conversation by exclaiming, " Well, who would ever have dreamed of Eden being the scene of such adventures?" And his wife observed, " You see, mother, that, after all, I w-as right in my reluctance to make the acquaintance of the Browns." The case was very much against Mrs. Lescrimifere, and the rector felt for her ; but she was not beaten yet, she answered, "No, my dear, never repent of a kind action, however it turns out for yourself — never, under any circumstances, repent of having shown kindness to those more sinned against than sinning. Besides, who can say how much the unexpected sympathy and fellowship of the good, may do for people on the ' Edge of Dark,' as these unlucky 182 SKIRMISHING. Browus M-ere ? Think how Escott has l^ronght that poor little half-cracked lamb Georgey into the fold. No, no, never regret having done a kind action." The old lady had said this with her usual spirit until she spoke of Georgey — the thought of the poor heart-sore thing, made her eyes fill ; but she brisked up again and added, " I am rather of that Irishman's way of thinking, who said. ' "What's the use of standing up for a man when he's in the right — it's when he's wrong he needs you.' " This sally made every one laugh. Even Escott, had he thought her wrong, which he was not sure that he did, had no heart to argue with the kind woman. So once again granduiamma got the best of it in a skirmish. Though a fever of excitement continued to burn from the nursery down to the kitchen, it was nevertheless a dull Christmas at the rectory. There Avas no Twelfth Night party, for Mrs. Greatorex dreaded being catechized about the Browns, and then dear Carry was in no mood for fun. One evening, it might be a week or ten days after the Epi))hany, Mrs, Lescrimiere sitting at her own side of the lire, woke Mr. Greatorex out of a pleasant nap, and startled the children into silence by a vehement, "I thought it would be so," accompanied by a noise very like tlie stamp of a loot, "What's the matter?" asked the drowsy rector. "That man has actually escaped!" and Mrs. Lescri- mi^re significantly tapped her newspaper. Mr. (jlrealorex, aware that his mother-in-law had been watching for the Bouverie trial, guessed at once to whom she alluded, and o.xclaimed, " AVhat ? Mr. Bouverie ran aw.ay ?" " No, worse, the jirosecution is drop])od. the laws of England seem to be an ingenious contrivance for the escape of criminals. It's a wonder how any one is ever convicted in this country. All 1 have to say is, he would not liave been allowed to escape sc()t-fr(M> in France." " lOnglish laws, my dear madam," said the rector, "are framed rather for the protection of tlie innocent, than for lh« condemnation of the guilty." "1 am sure I am more thankful than I can say, that POST SCRIPTUM. 183 Mrs. Brown's story is not to go the round of the papers," here put in Mrs. Greatorex, adding quickly, with a shy glance at her mother, " it's a comfort to think that poor Mrs. Brown may go where she likes without fear of the police." " True, but the guilty has triumphed," retorted Mrs. Lescrimiere. No one took up the gage of battle. At evening prayers the Rector read the thirty-seventh Psalm, all of it most emphatically, but laying a still stronger emphasis on the seventh and eighth verses, and also on the following words : "/ tnyself have seen the ungodly in great power and flourishing like a green hay-tree. I went hy and lo ! he was gone : I sought him, but his place coidd nowhere he found." POST SCRIPTUM. QUID DATUR A DIVIS FELICI OPTATIUS HORA ? THE soldier falls, his place is filled at once, no gap is seen in the line. The vessel cleaves asunder the waves for a few seconds ; it passes, and the water flows on evenly as before. Separations occur, no break in our life appears ; stringent is the law which ordains that all emo- tions shall be transient, that only a short space shall be allotted to remembrance. Spring had returned, the crisp ground had grown yield- ing, the earth made all the brighter by the stern rule of winter. See here a bud, and there a bud, and now there are too many on the little ruby-colored twigs for us to count — and hark, the first hoarse, unpractised notes of birds, mingle with tlie lusty cry of the ploughman to his horses. Escott and Maud hold many a consultation in the garden, and presently they go to the copses and din- gles to see the greatest show of primroses ever seen : and after the primroses come the wood anemones and the delicate wood sorrel and the wonderfully blue hyacinths. Now, an exclamation of delight, now a silence — and then 184 SKIRMISniNG. broken talk containing more eloquence, and a great deal more to the point, than most of the speeches of the Par- liament then sitting. Green lanes are great promoters of confidence, and Maud yielding to their influence was gradually enlighten- ing Escott as to her doubts and fears during the last year. AVas she silly to let him thus see her innermost feelings ? The result was very agreeable at the moment : for he used the weapons she placed in his power with chivalrous generosity. One day, it was in the leafy month of June, she assured him he would find her a poor companion. " Every day, Walter," says she, " I am more and more shocked by my deficiencies." He begged her not to distrust his judgment as to what he himself preferred. Escott was leagues away from guessing to what point Maud was travelling. "I have just finished the Life of Schiller," she con- tinued ; " how clever all the women were that he knew. I seem scarcely to belong to the same species," and Maud sighed, and then blushed as she added with a certain inward trepidation, " I never saw any one like those des- criptions but Mrs. Brown." Hitherto as if by sonic agreement all mention of the Browns had been avoided between the betrothed pair — yet, Maud, though declaring to herself she had not the tiniest shred of jealousy of Mrs. Brown remaining in her possession, hud all along had an almost uncontrollable desire to come upon the tacitly tabooed topic, with p]scott. The name had come out with a jerk, and now she wished it unspoken. She was frightened lest Escott should, guess wliat had given rise to those doubts and fears ho had been just now so tenderly chiding as over humility ; siie fancied he must be able to read her folly in her face, and she nervously turned from him, burying tlie sharp end of her ])arasol in a tuft of speedwell, as if anxious for ncilhing else l)ut lo dig it up. " J'oor Mrs. JJrown !" said Escott breaking the silence, " I did not imagine any one could feel envy of her." " Not envy, oh, no! not envy, only one would like to be able to Hjicak ail tliose foreign languages and talk on Bubjects, — sensible subjects, as she did." POST SCRIPTUM. 185 " Why, my dear Maud, if at nineteen you had all the acquirements and experience of Mrs. Brown, you -would be a dreadful little alarming prodigy." •'But you lilvcd to talk to Mrs. Brown." " So I do sometimes to your grandmother, and Maud, dear, if you can't be as satisfied as I am with yourself as you are, I would rather you resembled your grandmother, than Mrs. Brown." " Oh ! Walter, I am so glad you do admire grand- mamma at last ; it makes me quite happy, to hear you speak so of her." Escott stooped and gathered the poor speedwell she had so ruthlessly attacked. As he gave it to her, he took both her hands in his, and said gravely and gently, " From the day I asked you to be my wife, I have felt it to be for life or death between us. Do you understand me, Maud ?" A shy and contrite " Yes," was the answer. And what had become of the Browns ? Mrs. Lescri- mifere had not left them unaided. Intimately acquainted with the Pastor of Kaiserswerth, she had obtained for the poor hunted down creatures a peaceful asylum in the institution he had founded. They were going through the training that was to fit them for the service of the sick and poor. Mrs. Brown had renounced all intercourse with the world beyond the precincts of Kaiserswerth, except in her calling as a sick nurse. Gcorgcy was Mrs. Lescrimifere's correspondent ; she wrote frankly of her own struggles to do right, and to remain firm to her good resolutions ; the letters were very touching and beautiful in their truthfulness. Mrs. Lescrimifere, however, only showed them to Mrs. Greatorex ; and the two ladies agreed that all that was necessary to tell the rest of the family was, that Georgey was going on as well as could be wished. It was in July that Mrs. Lescrimiferc wrote to inform Georgey of Maud's approaching marriage. In her answer Georgey begged to be told the day fixed for the wedding. Mr. had promised her that the blue flag of Kaisers- werth (the sign of a festival), should be hoisted in honour of the event. It was a simple little note, which could be shown to the bride and bridegroom elect — it ended, 16* 18G SKIRMISHING. • Pray, dear madame, thank everybody for the good they have done me. When I read of the blessings that God gives to those -who have been kind to the unfortunate, 1 always say over to myself all your names." Maud had received the very proof her girlish heart had fixed on as the touchstone of Escott's love. He had urged that, parsonage or no parsonage, they s;hould be married without further waiting. •• We shall have enough for bread and butter," said Mr. Escott, " and I assure you, Mrs. Slater does not cook ill — it's not an ugly place, is it, Maud ? In summer, the pond beneath the elms, and the cows looking at them- selves in it, is a pretty pastoral scene." '• And give up your fellowship before you have a liv- ing ? Oh, Walter, that is impossible." "You are very prudent, Maud," he said, half crossly. Wasn't this a delightful accusation horn him ? No coaxing could have been so charming as that crossness. Mrs. Greatorcx listened to Escott's proposition out- wardly, with appalling gravity; inwardly, she was charmed that her son-in-law had lost his reason. Mr. Grcatorex laughed and pooh-poohed the notion. Interest was made in the right quarter; even heads of colleges and stern university committees, lose some of their stoicism to mundane delights, Avhcn the dilemma of a young couple wishing to be married, and having noth- ing to marry on, is properly brought before their notice and properly backed. Escott was presented to a living on whicli he ran no risk of starving a faniily. Maud was married on a bright August day — it was a very pretty wedding. Garlands in tlie church, flowers on the paths thither. As the newly-wedded pair drove along the road skirting the rectory garden, on the way to their new home, Maud, almost blinded l>y the natural tears tliat lillfd licr eyes, sat forward in the carriage to see all tl)(! old well-known sights. Caractacus, the roan pony, was standing in the glebe meadow, surrounded by a host of poultry, intent on roosting, fleecy ])urple clouds were already gathering in the western sky, the light was bo- ll iiul the gray church, and the broad yews were nearly black. Suddenly some one whistled, and by an associfu tion of ideas bride and bridegroom remembered, Gcorgo IJrown. POST SCIUPTUM. 18*7 " Poor Georgey," said Maud, and the unshed tears having got just the little provocation they needed, rolled rapidly over her rosy cheeks ; a soft shower arising from all sweet womanly sympathies and emotions. Escott even, turned his head aside for an instant. The little iriiii figure once so familiar a daily object, seemed to rise up before him. " Poor George !" he repeated ; adding, " It is very awful to see how the sins of the father darken the life of the child. But, Maud," he went on, after a little thought, " why should we continue to call her ' poor Georgey ?' she is doing well, that we know, and she is so young, that I dare to hope, she may one day be as happy as we are. We must really break ourselves of the habit of calling her, poor Georgey." fE« END. CATALOGUE OF BOOKS PUB LI SUED BY Henry Holt & Co. (Late Holt & Williams), 25 BOND STREET, NEW YORK. Prices are for Cloth lettered, unless otherwise stated. The Catalogue of Messrs. Hknry Holt & Co.'s Publi- cations is arranged in. departments as follows : — /. Efiglish, pp. 1-26. //. German pp. 27-42, /// French^ pp. 43-68. IV. Italian.^ p. 69. V. Spanish a?id Portu- guese, p. 70. VI. Hebretv, pp. 71-72. To these are added lists of the Tauchnitz Books, pp. 73-83, and Asher Collec- tion, p. 84, for which Messrs. Henry Holt & Co. are Agents in the United States. PART I.— ENGLISH. ABOUT'S (E.) MAN WITH THE BROKEN EAR. The Man with the Broken Ear. 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Uniform with the class-room abridgment of Taine's English Literature. Large i2mo. $2.50. Any one who is desirous of forming an easy and pleasant acquaint- ance with the best works of German authors may be safely recom- mended to study it. The book gives a very complete view ol general literature from the earbcst times, ]>assing with judicious brevity over some of those works whicli have ratlier earned tlie respect of scholars than tlie esteem of general readers. . . . At the same time the authors have not shrunk from grajipUng witli German philosophy, although the sta])le of their work is of a more popular character. Tlicre is de- cided merit in many of the translations in verse. — Lomtoii Athcthnim. The modest title given to this volume scarcely conveys an adequate notion of its contents. The writers have not been satisfied with mak- ing use of the opinions and knowledge of their jiredeccssors, but have throughout the book exercised an inck-pcndent judgment, and on some subjects — as, for example, (Jerman theology and philosophy — much thought appears to have been usefully expended The book, though mainly serviceable for reference, is written in a style likely to attract tiie reader.— /'./// Maratio/t, December^ 1873). THOMPSON'S (EDITH) HISTORY OF ENGLAND. See Freeman's Historical Course. TYLOR'S (E. B.) PRIMITIVE CULTURE. Primitive Culture : Researches into the Development of Mytho- logy, Philosophy, Religion, Art, and Custom. First American from the Second London edition. 2 vols. 8vo. $5.00. " Those who have not read the earlier volume, and who know the author only by hearsay or not at all, have yet before them an intellec- tual feast the like of which they will have seldom enjoyed. 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