UC-NRLF 
 
 Efl? 5S5 
 
 
 ' 
 
 1 : ' 
 
 iV. \\VVY. J: 
 
. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CaU of tf)e Coton, 
 
 FOUNDED ON 
 
 A CERTAIN INTERESTING FACT. 
 
 BY JOHN GALT, ESQ. 
 
 AUTHOR 01 " THE AYRSHIRE LEGATEES," " ANNALS OF THE 
 PAHISH," " LAWRIE TOD," ETC. 
 
 LONDON: 
 SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL. 
 
 1833. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE object of this Work is to describe the expres- 
 sion of natural feeling in situations not common ; 
 yet the story is founded on fact, and more inge- 
 nuity has, in consequence, been necessarily ex- 
 erted to conceal circumstances than would have 
 been requisite had the tale been entirely derived 
 from invention. 
 
 As in all the works of the Author, he has endea- 
 voured to give portraits in his principal charac- 
 ters, and he does not think he has failed in the 
 likenesses in this volume, though the public may 
 have a different opinion, not knowing the originals. 
 
 The incidents may be fictitious they are not 
 intended to be altogether so ; and certainly some 
 attention will be paid to ascertain, hereafter, how 
 far criticism may be correct in its views concerning 
 them. 
 
 VOL. IV. 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 Many years ago, when examining the Elgin 
 Marbles with the late Mr. West, it was the opinion 
 of that eminent artist that they were imitations of 
 natural subjects, and he thought the Cartoons of 
 Raphael of the same description. 
 
 This opinion, in unison with an inference drawn 
 from the works of Homer and Shakspeare, con- 
 vinced the Author that he could follow no better 
 rule than the President himself had deduced. He 
 has done so, and it has been some gratification to 
 have heard gentlemen express themselves convinced 
 of the fact from his productions, even when they 
 could not trace any adventures of the originals. 
 These he always used, as in the present case, but 
 as models, and placed them in situations which 
 were likely to call out the latent biases of their 
 
 characters. 
 
 J. G. 
 March 26th. 
 
THE 
 
 STOLEN CHILD. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 PAUT I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IT is not requisite to tell when Mr. Mordant, the 
 barrister, flourished ; few of his years and of his 
 age promised to excel him in ability ; all his 
 friends looked forward to his attainment of the 
 most splendid eminences of the profession ; and 
 he was not more admired for his talents than be- 
 loved for his virtues. The only fault that could 
 be ascribed to him was an occasional absence of 
 mind, which wiped out from his memory impres- 
 sions which to others would have been indelible. 
 
 He married early in life a lady to whom he was 
 as much attached as it was possible for an ambi- 
 tious man to be ; and to his studies he was de- 
 voted. He had no enjoyment but in her company, 
 out of his library, and in it he was wholly absorbed 
 in the most recondite researches of the law. With 
 her the cup of domestic felicity could hold no 
 more ; but in the long bright vista of his profes- 
 sional career he saw before him every thing to 
 
 VOL. iv. B 
 
A THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 stir emulation, and he studied in the lives of his 
 predecessors those incidents in their conduct crown- 
 ed with renown and success. 
 
 While he was yet a young man, his lady bore 
 him two sons, in whom the fondest affections of 
 both parents were wrapped up ; but before the 
 youngest was a year old, the health of the mother 
 began to break, and she became so delicate as to 
 be often confined to the house. But for her de- 
 licate state the happiness of Mr. Mordant was un- 
 mingled with alloy : it is not, however, ordained 
 for man to taste of unadulterated pleasure. 
 
 It happened one day that the two boys, with 
 the hilarity of childhood, were riding on sticks, and, 
 the weather being fine, their mother, delighted too 
 with their artless gaiety, ordered the hall door to 
 be left open, that the children might amuse them- 
 selves on the pavement in front of the house. 
 
 She sat at the parlor window, and dreaded no 
 harm, as they were constantly in sight. 
 
 The house, situated in Southampton-row, then 
 a quiet place, was not exposed to the visitation of 
 vagrants. In this situation she had not sat long 
 when she missed her eldest boy : he had gone, in 
 his buoyancy, down the street, and it was not till 
 he had disappeared some time that she sent the 
 servant to bring him back. 
 
 He was not, however, to be seen in the street, 
 and no tidings of him could be obtained. A fear- 
 ful apprehension seized her ; the boy to her was 
 lost for ever. 
 
 The agitation which the event caused her to 
 suffer, soon, in her invalid condition, terminated 
 fatally. Mordant grieved for her with such ardent 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD, 3 
 
 regard, that he forgot the cause which had so un- 
 timely brought her to her grave. He lamented 
 but for her ; sorrow sat down upon his heart so 
 . implacably that he neglected even his beloved stu- 
 dies, and mourning for her alone, was soon laid 
 beside her, leaving his second son, Augustus, to 
 inherit his fortune : his reputation, many of his 
 friends rightly said, he could not bequeath. He 
 had struck out for himself a new course in the 
 law which no one, with inferior talent and less as- 
 siduity, could resume. 
 
 I shall not, however, dwell on the accomplish- 
 ments of this admirable young man ; his place was 
 long fragrant with the sweet odour of his name, 
 and many of his apophthegms are still repeated 
 among the gentlemen of the bar, with expressions 
 of regret that one so young should have been cut 
 off so early. 
 
 His father, the honorable and reverend Mr. Mor- 
 dant, being a widower, took the orphan home, and 
 brought him up as his own son. 
 
 The old gentleman was the younger brother of 
 a peer, and owed his ecclesiastical promotion to 
 the influence of his family. He was, however, a 
 good easy man, naturally extremely indolent, but 
 in other respects kind and blameless. Three elder 
 brothers cut him off from the probability of at- 
 taining his eldest brother's title, nor to him was 
 this a subject of regret ; perhaps, had his son 
 lived, he might have felt more : but he saw him cut 
 down in the blossoms of fame, and grief only aug- 
 mented his habitual disregard of all things. 
 
 At first the little orphan Augustus, who had 
 many childish blandishments, won upon his heart, 
 B 2 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 and for a while allured him into more activity ; 
 but gradually the predilection of his nature re- 
 turned, insomuch that he sank into such apathy 
 as to utterly neglect the unfortunate Jboy ; so that 
 the child, before he had attained his tenth year, 
 was only known to his household as an orphan 
 heir. Could the other boy have been discovered, 
 Augustus would not have stood in this predica- 
 ment ; but the memory of his loss was faded to the 
 servants, and Augustus was regarded by them as 
 the representative of his father and the grandson 
 of their master. 
 
 We have been thus particular because it was not 
 till many years after the death of the old man 
 that the effects of his extreme indolence began to 
 colour the fortunes of Augustus ; not indeed till 
 then was Augustus aware of the fate of his brother. 
 He believed that he had died in childhood, and, 
 of course, never made any enquiry concerning him. 
 Nor was his grandfather, if he ever observed his 
 error, disposed to set him right, but resided on his 
 living, a retired and peaceful man, and, at a late 
 period of old age, bade the world quietly adieu. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN the course of the same afternoon on which Ed- 
 ward Mordant so strangely disappeared, Doctor 
 Wycombe was taking his evening walk on the 
 common, adjoining to which stood his academy. It 
 was the custom of this personage to enjoy the 
 breezes of the downs as often as he allowed his 
 schoolboys to play, and in consequence, notwith- 
 standing his sedentary occupation, he was a hale 
 and active carle. 
 
 His proficiency in classical knowledge was un- 
 doubted, but in other branches of education he 
 was not eminent ; indeed it was objected to him by 
 many parents, that he paid too little attention to 
 the inculcation of useful knowledge; but never- 
 theless, the repute of his academy was extensive, 
 and at this time it received an accession of cele- 
 brity, chiefly on account of a benevolent action, of 
 which he was at some pains to spread abroad ,the 
 renown. 
 
 It happened, as we have said, that he was taking 
 his customary exercise on the common, when his 
 attention was roused by the cries of a child. It 
 
6 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 was not in the Doctor's nature to pay much atten- 
 tion to an incident of this kind ; but the evening 
 was gusty and gloomy, and the forlorn little fellow 
 uttered his disconsolate moan in a low and touch- 
 ing strain, insomuch that Dr. Wy combe could not 
 leave him alone with any credit to himself. He, in 
 consequence, turned his steps towards the boy, but 
 he could make no other meaning from his grief, 
 than the expression of a desire to be carried to his 
 own home. " Carried" was a word which the good 
 Doctor thought ill applied by one of his appear- 
 ance, for the boy's apparel was mean and ragged, 
 and he was altogether of the stamp of a mendi- 
 cant's brat, yet his countenance was open and con- 
 ciliatory. 
 
 After some fruitless attempts to make out his 
 story, the Doctor saw that there was no alternative 
 that evening, but to desire the shabby urchin to 
 follow him, promising him a snug corner in the 
 school-room, where he would pass the night in 
 comfort and shelter. 
 
 Whether the child understood his words, uttered 
 with considerable elocution, is not told ; but he 
 trotted after the important Doctor, and at his school 
 largely partook of all he had promised, with a cup 
 of bread and milk, which the other boys, by a vo- 
 luntary contribution levied on their suppers, pro- 
 vided for him ; but when the hour arrived that he 
 was to stretch himself, dog-like, on the school- 
 room floor, he in the most obstinate manner utterly 
 refused. 
 
 Some of the bigger boys remonstrated with him 
 on this folly, and assured him that the Doctor 
 would not provide him with better lodging ; but all 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 7 
 
 would not serve ; the boy was refractory, and would 
 go only to his own bed. 
 
 Mrs. Cleanse, the housekeeper, protested that 
 his obstinacy betokened he was accustomed to fare 
 better ; but his duds were a woeful contradiction 
 to her partiality; the boys also thought he had 
 been used to better things, and sympathised with 
 his grief; but lie down he would not, and the con- 
 troversy on this thesis lasted so long, that Mrs. 
 Cleanse deemed it expedient to inform her master 
 of his wilfulness. 
 
 Doctor Wycombe had finished his supper when 
 she brought him this intelligence ; he was sitting 
 at a comfortable fire, in an easy chair, with the 
 knees unbuttoned of his black inexpressibles, his 
 grey worsted stockings loose about his legs, and 
 on his feet a dingy pair of red morocco slippers. 
 What he was thinking of we have never ascer- 
 tained ; but he was in the full enjoyment of otium 
 cum dignitate, and rose exceedingly disturbed by a 
 varlet to whom he had been so charitable ; at the 
 same time he seized a birchen rod which was lean- 
 ing against the mantel-piece, and with stately 
 strides and lowering brows took his way to the 
 school-room, where he found the boys assembled 
 and the little foundling protesting that he would 
 not sleep upon the floor. But the moment that 
 the awful visage of the Doctor was descried looming 
 through the mirk, an instantaneous change took 
 place : nearly all the boys scampered off, leaving 
 our hero to the mercy of the pedagogue, and the 
 remonstrances of three or four of the elder school- 
 boys who remained with him. 
 
 Dr. Wycombe was in all his actions methodical 
 
8 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 and self-collected ; he did not lack in knowledge 
 of human nature, and he had discernment enough 
 to perceive that the foundling had interested the 
 sympathy of all the other children : to have ap- 
 plied the birch as he had intended, in such cir- 
 cumstances would have roused the indignation of 
 the whole school. Although therefore disposed to 
 vindicate his authority, he saw that it would not be 
 allowed without some commotion ; accordingly, 
 with the address for which he was famous, he plau- 
 sibly enquired into the case, and thinking that 
 there might be something not far from truth in the 
 representations of the other boys, he deemed it 
 would be advantageous to the reputation of his feel- 
 ings, if he allowed the boys who remained behind 
 to take the obstreperous urchin to their dormitory, 
 since no better could be made of it. Thus it hap- 
 pened, that Edward was taken awa"y in triumph, 
 and next morning being Sabbath, the Doctor was 
 moved, by various tales which the little fellow had 
 told his companions, very imperfectly, to institute 
 a more minute enquiry into the causes which had 
 led him to be so destitute and late on the common. 
 It happened, however, that just at the time of 
 church-going, a terrible shower of rain and hail 
 came on, which prevented the worthy Doctor and 
 his pupils, from going to church, and in the end, 
 the day turned out so exceedingly wet, that they 
 were compelled to abide in the house. In a great 
 measure owing to this circumstance, the Doctor 
 learned the little he was able to collect from Ed- 
 ward ; but he was not altogether satisfied with the 
 child's story, for his habiliments contradicted the 
 narrative of his adventures ; and the description he 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 9 
 
 gave of his father's house and servants was alto- 
 gether irreconcileable with the condition of his ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 There are persons in the world who, in spite of 
 this discrepancy, would have imagined that the 
 child's narrative was deserving of more minute in- 
 vestigation ; but Dr. Wycombe was not one of 
 those ; he made his own comment on what he heard, 
 and the result did not augment to any great degree 
 the real state of the little orphan in his estimation ; 
 but Providence never makes a bane without at the 
 same time preparing its antidote. 
 
 Mrs. Cleanse was a sound-headed woman, of 
 a good motherly heart, though she was not a mo- 
 ther ; and she represented to the Doctor, on that 
 wet Sunday evening, that they should keep the 
 foundling till he was enquired for. 
 
 " His meat," said she, " will never be missed 
 among us ; and whether what he has told of him- 
 self be true or false, no harm can come to us by 
 having been kind to him." 
 
 The Doctor did not quite relish this suggestion, 
 but he consented to it, for his establishment was 
 large, and he y felt the truth of the good woman's 
 representation. 
 
 Thus it came to pass that the boy remained for 
 some days in the Doctor's house, until the acci- 
 dent, by which he had been taken there, was well 
 noised abroad in the neighbourhood. He was 
 much commended by all his parishioners of a cer- 
 tain class for his great humanity ; those of the 
 lower order were not so loquacious of this, for 
 somehow with them he was not held in much re- 
 verence ; and with the usual detraction of those 
 
10 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 who, by their wants, have a keen sense of humane 
 feelings, they were somehow of opinion that he 
 was a proud and greedy character, and but little 
 disposed to chasten adversity when she appeared 
 among the lowly. But in the more respectable 
 class, the charity of his disposition was duly appre- 
 ciated, and particularly by an old gentleman of 
 the name of Pearl, who had spent much of his 
 life abroad in some public capacity, in which he 
 had made a moderate fortune. 
 
 In the close of his career Mr. Pearl had returned 
 to his native parish with the intention of enjoying 
 the evening of life in the tranquillity of the setting 
 sun ; but he had outlived all whom he had known 
 in early youth, and he could scarcely have come 
 to a spot so sad and barren as the green fields of 
 his home. Even his name was not known in his 
 native place when he took up his abode in it on 
 his return, and he lived, in consequence, a solitary 
 life in a lone white house, which stood on the edge 
 of the common about half a mile from the Doctor's 
 academy. By this man the benevolence of Dr. 
 Wycombe towards the poor child was highly ap- 
 plauded, and on the following Sunday, as he was 
 returning from church, he called to learn the par- 
 ticulars, and to ascertain if the report was correct. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 11 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MR. PEARL was a good, rather than a clever 
 old bachelor, his vocation abroad was strictly offi- 
 cial, and he was more famous in it for the exacti- 
 tude with which, in the routine, he adhered to the 
 precedents of his predecessors, than for his dispo- 
 sition to improve them, although it was thought by 
 many that they were not perfect; all his days 
 accustomed to office, he had but little experience 
 of the world, and his failings in consequence leant 
 to the side of virtue. He was good-natured, and 
 the blandishments of that indulgent spirit made 
 all things appear to him with innocence, even to 
 such a degree as to be almost beautiful. He was, 
 in short, a very amiable person, and it augured well 
 for our little hero that so excellent an old man 
 had taken so early and so ardent an interest in 
 his welfare ; yet in this it may be thought Mr. 
 Pearl was not altogether disinterested. He was, 
 some years turned of three score ; he wearied 
 that the employment was at an end, in which he 
 had so long been engaged, and he sighed in his 
 father's house that all the companions of his youth 
 
12 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 were gone, and his native parish was as lonely to 
 him as the wildest region where his fortune had 
 been cast. 
 
 From the moment that he heard of our hero, 
 to whom the name of Edward Troven had been 
 given by the boys of Doctor Wy combe's school, 
 he felt himself greatly excited, and resolved, not- 
 withstanding the kindness of the doctor left no 
 doubt of his willingness to take care of the boy, 
 that he would relieve him from the expense. 
 
 " I have," said the old man to himself, as he 
 went to church, " more than enough for all my 
 wants, and in the solitude of this world it will 
 serve to vary the monotony of old age, if I bring 
 this boy to reside with me : like him, I am forlorn 
 in the world ; I know not whom to call a friend, 
 but I have no enemies." 
 
 The sermon of the Doctor was in unison with 
 this frame of mind, it was correctly written, a little 
 too Johnsonian in the turns of the periods, but it 
 was delivered with great solemnity, and to the 
 heart and mind of Mr. Pearl sounded as some- 
 thing emphatical and fine. He listened with atten- 
 tion ; the sonorous phraseology was congenial to 
 the best feelings of his humane disposition, and be- 
 fore the conclusion he was resolved to execute his 
 design. 
 
 Accordingly, when the congregation was dis- 
 missed, Mr. Pearl in his way homeward joined the 
 Reverend Doctor on the road, and went with him 
 to the Academy-House. Their talk of course 
 was on the season of the year, the precarious state 
 of the weather, and of the humanities which the 
 topic was well calculated to inspire. The obser- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 13 
 
 vations of the Doctor were delivered with choice 
 emphasis ; an ora rotunda echoing of his discourse 
 was mingled with aphorisms and quotations from 
 the classics, which Mr. Pearl not understanding, 
 could not sufficiently admire. The only difference 
 between him and the Doctor was owing to a very- 
 trivial circumstance ; Doctor Wycombe was eloquent 
 on the destitute condition of the poor, the house- 
 less wanderer, and all that ; but Mr. Pearl thought 
 it was the duty of those who could afford it, to 
 mitigate the pressure of distress, and declared that 
 his mite of contribution for this object was at all 
 times in readiness. 
 
 From less to more, they began to speak of the 
 circumstances in which our hero was found, and 
 the Doctor gave a pathetic recital of the whole 
 incident, and the more particularly, as he had a 
 willing auditor. Mr. Pearl was moved to tears 
 when the Doctor described the poor child weeping 
 in destitution, his story confused with sighs and 
 sobs, his shoeless feet red with cold, and en- 
 larged on the voracity of his hungry appetite. 
 
 By the time they had reached the gate of the 
 Academy the sadness was all rehearsed, and Mr. 
 Pearl had disclosed his intention to his Reverend 
 friend, who applauded it greatly, especially when 
 the old gentlemen intimated that although the boy 
 should reside with him, he yet intended that he 
 should attend the school of the benevolent Doctor. 
 In truth, the Doctor, though well spoken of by 
 all his respectable neighbours, was yet liked by 
 few; for which we never heard a better reason 
 assigned than that he had a something prominent 
 about his cheekbones which was not handsome. 
 
14 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 Mr. Pearl, in consequence of a lowering squall 
 in the north-west, did not enter, as he had pro- 
 posed, into the house, but hurried home to his 
 own, after parting with the Doctor, as quickly as 
 possible, leaving till Monday the final arrangements. 
 
 It could not be said of this gentleman that he 
 enjoyed a religious temperament, but he was a 
 strict observer of fasts and holidays, not knowing 
 in what he might offend by neglecting to keep any 
 of them: the consecration of the Sabbath he justly 
 regarded, as it always ought to be. Abroad in his 
 office, he revered it as a division of time, as natural 
 as the day and the night, the seasons and their 
 changes, the new and waning moon. Thus it 
 came to pass, that he would have done no more 
 upon the blessed day than he did do, in announc- 
 ing his gentle intention ; but he was actuated on 
 this occasion by another motive : he had not 
 divulged his humane design to Mrs. Servit, his 
 housekeeper, on whose opinion he had great reli- 
 ance, and whom it was his greatest pleasure to 
 consult. 
 
 Mrs. Servit was of a matronly altitude of years, 
 but nevertheless considerably his junior : of her 
 birth, parentage and education, we have no very 
 perfect account; her accent, however, betrayed her 
 Scottish origin, and yet she did not exactly speak 
 the language of that country, though with a few 
 deviations she evinced a perfect mistressy of its 
 most recondite and common idioms. She was above 
 the rank of a servant, in as much as she shared 
 the meals of Mr. Pearl, and in every other respect 
 did the honours of his house and table; yet she 
 was on a salary, and considered it her duty, 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 15 
 
 as she said, " on no pretence to avoid a turn of 
 work." 
 
 She was early a widow, and obliged from the 
 pecuniary straitness of the circumstances in which 
 she was left, to have recourse to this way of life, 
 for she had no very near relations to assist her, 
 although it must be acknowledged, that like her 
 countrywomen in general, she had a distant view 
 of brilliant cousins, that raised their bright heads 
 afar off like the snowy tops of their native mountains. 
 
 In many points Mrs. Servit had really a great 
 deal of merit : no person could have made a more 
 accurate gauge of her situation ; for, although her 
 virtues were of a homely and domestic kind, she 
 was yet shrewd and discerning, and experience had 
 taught her to trust much to her own exertions. 
 Early in life she had married a young man to whom 
 she was much attached, and whose singular talents 
 promised them a prosperous career; but the seeds 
 of a mortal disease lurked in his blood, of which he 
 died in the course of the first year, bequeathing his 
 widow to Providence, and the tender mercies of the 
 world. 
 
 That she was disappointed in her fortune, cannot 
 be. denied, and pined for some time for the loss of 
 an accomplished young man, with whom she anti- 
 cipated encreasing prosperity ; but finding soon that 
 " tears were not tarts," she boldly abandoned the 
 Scottish metropolis, the seat of her hopes, and with 
 an alacrity that bespoke decision and independence 
 of character, became the companion of an old En- 
 glish lady, who believed that Scotland produced 
 nothing but geniuses, and was desirous of being 
 able to read the poems of Burns with fluency and 
 
16 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 propriety. The Edinburgh Review was not then 
 published. 
 
 Mrs. Servit heard of the situation, and was soon 
 installed in all its anxieties and emoluments, in the 
 enjoyment of which she continued several years, 
 conducting herself so well, that when the old lady 
 died, and could therefore make no further use of her 
 income, she had the kindness to leave her indefatiga- 
 ble companion an annuity of no less than thirty 
 pounds a-year. 
 
 To pass from the situation she had occupied with 
 so much distinction into another similar, was not so 
 difficult as the transition she had already undergone, 
 and accordingly she found herself soon the compa- 
 nion of a lame lady, with whom she remained with- 
 out much happiness a long period of years, until, 
 indeed, she heard that Mr. Pearl required a house- 
 keeper of a certain age, and who would enjoy with 
 him all the appliances that we have enumerated. 
 
 In process of time she became to him so conveni- 
 ent and necessary, that he did nothing but what 
 she approved ; and experience had taught her that 
 it was always the most agreeable course to advise 
 him to adopt whatsoever he appeared most inclined 
 to. It is, however, only doing this commendable 
 woman justice to acknowledge, that in this she was 
 more influenced by a wish to see others happy, than 
 to attain any ascendancy. The course of fortune 
 had taught her that life is short, and is a succession 
 of vicissitudes often bitter enough naturally, without 
 people taking the trouble of making them more so ; 
 no doubt her cheerful spirit extracted pleasure from 
 all innocent things, and habitude made her sensible 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 17 
 
 that in the indulgence of this humour lay the only 
 sweetness that could appease the acids of life. 
 
 Such was the character Mr. Pearl found himself 
 obliged to consult before he ventured to adopt the 
 foundling ; and few but himself could have appre- 
 hended a veto on his paternal design. 
 
 VOL. IV 
 
18 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BY the time Mr. Pearl had reached his own gate, 
 the squall which he had observed in the sullen 
 north-west was raging in the trees, and sowing 
 around the showers with which it was loaded ; but 
 he reached the door before he was much harmed, 
 and Mrs. Servit was ready to let him in. 
 
 She had prepared for him his accustomed meal ; 
 but, what he valued above good living, she had 
 also prepared a blazing fire, whose flickering flames 
 gave, in such a day, a cheerful welcome. Having 
 dried the damp from his shoes and stockings, din- 
 ner was served, and he partook of a frugal repast 
 without much talk ; his mind was, indeed, laden 
 with an important subject, and a person of less 
 discernment than his notable housekeeper might 
 have seen that he was big with serious thought. 
 
 When the cloth was removed, and the decanters, 
 with their frugal dessert, were set upon the table, 
 he put his hand behind the back of his head, and, 
 having ascertained that his slender tie was safe, 
 he said to Mrs. Servit, as he filled her glass with 
 wine 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 19 
 
 "It is all true : the Doctor has the foundling 
 in his house, poor orphan ! it is a very little child, 
 though I have not yet seen it, and there is good 
 reason to believe that it was destined to a happier 
 lot." 
 
 " I always thought so," replied the considerate 
 Mrs. Servit ; " and I have no doubt it will be a 
 credit to the Doctor, when the rights of the case 
 are understood by the stripling's relations." 
 
 " Stripling ! bless you, it is but a child turned 
 of three years or so ; helpless it is, and they had 
 hard hearts who abandoned it upon the common." 
 
 " So I think ; they could never have been its 
 parents," she added, " who were guilty of such a 
 step-mother-like act." 
 
 " You are always very kind," replied Mr. Pearl ; 
 " I have seldom met with a person who had clearer 
 ideas of those who are left to desolation than your- 
 self." 
 
 " It ought to be no gift to brag of," replied the 
 lady ; " for what could a babe or suckling do for 
 itself, left like this poor laddy in a howling wilder- 
 ness ?" 
 
 " I have been grieved," said Mr. Pearl, " to 
 think of it ; and I have taken a project into my 
 head, which I hope you will approve." 
 
 " You are a considerate man," said the lady ; 
 " and no project can enter your head concerning 
 such a heart-cutting business that does not deserve 
 a blessing." 
 
 o 
 
 " I am very glad, Mrs. Servit, to hear you say 
 so ; but the worst of it is, that it cannot be carried 
 into execution without increasing your trouble." 
 
 " That's what you aye say, when you have a 
 c 2 
 
20 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 pleasure in hand for me : what is this scheme 
 now ?" 
 
 " I have been thinking," said the old gentleman, 
 u that we have more bed-rooms in this house than 
 there are sleepers for them ; and it has occurred to 
 me that one of them might be put to worse ser- 
 vice than in being made a domicile for this Ed- 
 ward Troven, which they have baptized the child 
 anew." 
 
 " That's just my opinion," said Mrs. Servit ; 
 " but I knew it was a thought that would come 
 into your own head, and little is it my business to 
 forestall the natural working of goodness in a kind 
 bosom." 
 
 " And you really, Mrs. Servit," said Mr. Pearl, 
 " would take it no trouble if I brought the destitute 
 orphan home with me ?" 
 
 " Trouble !" she exclaimed ; " it is my duty to 
 do every lawful thing that you require, and surely 
 I have given no testimony, in the four years that 
 I have been in this house, to cause you to ever 
 suspect that I would hesitate to be art and part 
 in an action of Christian charity." 
 
 " But our housemaid," said the old gentleman ; 
 " what will she say? it will bring a great increase 
 of toil on her." 
 
 " Who would think of that ?" replied Mrs. 
 Servit; " she must just do as she is bidden, and 
 her darg is very easy/' 
 
 In this manner the way was paved for the recep- 
 tion of the foundling in the house of Mr. Pearl ; 
 and next morning the old gentleman, betimes, 
 went over for him to the academy, and returned 
 with the jocund urchin, holding him by the fore- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 21 
 
 finger. Mrs. Servit received the boy with un- 
 affected pleasure, made much of him, comfbrted 
 him with apples, and suggested that a tailor should 
 be sent for to the village, to make him a suit of new 
 clothes, all which was accordingly done ; and the 
 boy, being of a sprightly temper, his presence 
 greatly enhanced the enjoyment of the good old 
 man. 
 
 In the mean time, whether Mr. Mordant, in 
 London, had caused any search for him to be 
 made, has not been ascertained ; on the contrary, 
 there is some reason to fear, from his occasional 
 absence of mind, that the infant was soon forgotten, 
 so much was he entranced with the affliction of 
 his beloved and delicate lady. The remainder of 
 the story has been already told. She died soon 
 after the event, and he sunk himself with grief 
 to the grave, leaving his second son, Augustus, to 
 the care of his father, an opulent clergyman, a 
 member of a noble family, and but in the fourth 
 degree removed from the barony. As his native 
 character had prevented the old gentleman from 
 holding much intercourse with his brothers, for a 
 number of years he had, without any quarrel, held 
 none, for his church preferment was in a remote 
 part of the kingdom, and he rarely stirred from 
 home. 
 
 The peer, at this time, was well stricken in years, 
 unmarried, and had acquired some reputation for 
 the service he had done the state. The other three 
 brothers, according to the fashion of that corrupt 
 age, held public employments, in which they re- 
 spectively performed their duty with as -much 
 credit as could reasonably be expected ; but though 
 
22 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 married, none of them had a son to succeed him : 
 the one next to the peer, however, had a daughter, 
 and, failing the descendants of the clergyman, she 
 would succeed to the vast inheritance of the fa- 
 mily. 
 
 Such was the state of things in which our story 
 commences ; but in a short time, the third son of 
 the four brothers, who were older than the clergy- 
 man, happened to die, without occasioning much 
 remark, and, in the course of two years after, the 
 clergyman also quitted this earthly scene, be- 
 queathing his grandson to his elder brother, the 
 peer ; in doing so he neglected, or forgot to men- 
 tion, the predicament in which the child stood with 
 the unknown fate of his elder brother. It thus came 
 to pass that Augustus was transferred to the care 
 of his noble uncle, without being aware himself 
 of the situation in which he stood, or the peer of 
 his doubtful pretensions ; indeed, his claim to suc- 
 ceed to the title was rendered uncertain by the wife 
 of the youngest of the three brothers unexpectedly 
 becoming pregnant just at this time : nor were the 
 habits of the peer such as led the family to look 
 for much attention from him to his heirs, for he 
 was an official man, fond of place, delighted with 
 its cares, and, childless himself, he thought but 
 little of who should succeed him. He only knew 
 that Augustus was the grandson of his younger 
 brother, and he believed him to be the presumptive 
 heir to his title and domains. Thus, more by the 
 influence of personal character, than even the ex- 
 traordinary event of which we are the historians, 
 a noble family deeply connected with the admi- 
 nistration of the state, grew into such ignorance 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 23 
 
 of themselves, that they gave rise to a romance of 
 real life which has few parallels. 
 
 In giving birth to a child, the lady and her hus- 
 band were grievously disappointed. They ex- 
 pected a son, and largely counted on his inherit- 
 ance ; but it was a daughter, and the mother was 
 so shaken in the birth that she fell into bad health 
 and never recovered. Augustus was thus con- 
 sidered .by all his uncles as the heir of the family, 
 and treated as such accordingly. 
 
 In the course of a short time the peer died, and 
 was successively succeeded by his two surviving 
 brothers, neither of whom was long-lived ; inso- 
 much, that Augustus, while yet far in his minority, 
 attained the barony as a matter of course, and was 
 brought up as a young nobleman of ancient lineage 
 and great inheritance. 
 
 It is needless to pursue, at present, his history 
 further : his education was, in all respects, be- 
 fitting his prospects, and it could not be said to be 
 uncommon. 
 
 Our hero is, however, Edward Troven, whose 
 singular fate it is the purpose of these pages to re- 
 cord ; and we shall, therefore, bid adieu for a 
 while to his younger brother, and return to him 
 who, considering the strangeness of his lot, was, in 
 some measure, singularly compensated for it by the 
 kind-heartedness of Mr. Pearl, and the maternal 
 dispositions of his housekeeper, Mrs. Servit. 
 
24 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 FROM the moment that Troven was received into 
 the house of Mr. Pearl, he was, as a matter of 
 course, considered as one of the family, and the 
 house-maid, without instructions, marked a place 
 for him, young as he was, at the table where the 
 master and Mrs. Servit usually dined. This cir- 
 cumstance, at the moment, excited some enquiry 
 with certain interjectional exclamations of the 
 worthy lady. It is true that she herself had me- 
 ditated the same thing, and the old gentleman 
 confessed that he had brought him for a toy, but 
 how the damsel should have thought and acted as 
 
 o 
 
 she did, furnished conversation for the remainder of 
 I lie <lay. This no doubt was owing to something 
 in the stars of the child, for his rags betokened 
 that he would have been fortunate had he been 
 brought up in the kitchen ; but as Mrs. Servit said, 
 on observing what the maid had done : 
 
 "It's all right; who would treat a foundling 
 like a common wean ? who knows what nest he 
 belongs to, what song he '11 sing, and what'na 
 bough of the fragrant tree he 's ordained to chirp 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 25 
 
 from ? For my part, if he was not made one of our- 
 selves, my conscience concerning him would not 
 be very peaceable ; for it runs before me that the 
 upshot of his life is to be a grand thing for us all, 
 and Molly has been impelled by a feedum out of 
 the common to do what she has done/' 
 
 " Indeed/' quoth Mr. Pearl : " when I saw her 
 lay a dessert knife and fork, and a dessert spoon for 
 the child, I thought, Mrs. Servit, that she was only 
 fulfilling an invention of yours, and gave you to 
 her great credit for the device; but I was really 
 confounded when she told me that you had no hand 
 in the job, and that it all came of her own fore- 
 thought, which you will allow is a very extraordi- 
 nary thing; for although she has been a long time 
 with us, I never saw the dinner rightly served since 
 she came, and therefore I say with you, that out of 
 her own head to lay a place for the child is most 
 miraculous." 
 
 When dinner was brought up, with equal as- 
 tonishment to both the gentleman and lady, the 
 merry boy seemed to know his own place. 
 
 " He is something," said Mrs. Servit, when she 
 saw him looking about him for his high befitting 
 seat. 
 
 " In truth," said the old man ; " he is, and it was 
 very considerate of you to take off his rags and 
 dress him in clean things of your own ; to be sure 
 they don't fit quite so well as I hope his new clothes 
 will, but they are better than those filthy rags 
 which he had on, and which made him seem a true 
 beggar-boy." 
 
 " Yes," replied Mrs. Servit ; " if his present 
 cleading does not sit so well upon him as the royal 
 
26 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 robes do upon the king, he is more becoming to the 
 station of life that he is ordained to be brought up 
 in, than in yon filthy duds : preserve us ! I was glad 
 to get them off ; but the lasses have carried their 
 whigmalleery too far ; for there was no need to put 
 one of my night-mutches on him, and really I must 
 say that his red cockade, like a peony-rose, is just 
 like what old Mr. Goul, the minister of the parish 
 that I came frae, called a work of supererogation : 
 but sit down, or the dinner will grow cold. Neddy, 
 my man, climb to your seat and behave yourself." 
 
 The conversation while they remained at table 
 was most edifying, for the foundling was none in- 
 commoded by his new situation : once he expressed 
 some wonder at what had become of John, the foot- 
 man ; but it was a mere expression ; it called how- 
 ever, from Mrs. Servit a " Ha, sir, did ye hear 
 that ?" and presently she added, " as sure as a gun, 
 he has been something." 
 
 Mr. Pearl said that he had no doubt in his mind 
 on the subject, only he was surprised that no 
 enquiry had been set on foot for a lost child ; but fate, 
 fortune, or providence was at the bottom of the plot. 
 
 " He will, ye see, be left with us till he has 
 gathered our affections, and then he will be taken 
 from us ; I wish we had never seen him, if that's to 
 be the case." 
 
 " 'Deed, Mr. Pearl, if we are ordained to bear 
 such a calamity, what I'm sure you are minded to 
 do for the blithe bairn had better no be done, unless 
 you lend an hearing ear to my counsel." 
 
 " I cannot refuse that," said the old gentleman ; 
 " for ye never give an advice but it is well worth 
 the taking." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 27 
 
 " Ah, sir, many a time ye say the same thing; 
 but like the rest of mankind, you will have a will 
 of your own." 
 
 " I am, my dear Mrs. Servit, not an obstinate 
 man ; I have only a salutary respect for what is 
 right, and every proper regard for your opinion and 
 experience, what would you advise ?" 
 
 " Well, if you will not be angry with me, and 
 start out at the door like a bristled pea, I think I 
 
 could say anent Oh, Neddy, you rascal, you 
 
 have broken the handle of my best china poury ; 
 really a man would have to hae a good fortune, I 
 trow, to bring up such a ramplor laddy." 
 
 " Well, but Mrs. Servit, what advice do you 
 give ?" 
 
 " I'm in such a fluster that I can give none at 
 all. Only think, this poury is now a cumberer of 
 the ground, and unless it be to hold lilies and 
 tulips on the mantel-piece, its jurisdiction is gone 
 for ever. But what I was going to say anent Ed- 
 ward. If he would be a well behaved bairn, and 
 no a rank ringing enemy to keep the house in hot 
 water, I would keep him in the way that you in- 
 tend, and never say a word about how he was got- 
 ten, or take any step either to send the bell about 
 the parish, or to stick hand-bills on the doors of 
 the kirk and market." 
 
 " That's just what I was thinking," said Mr. 
 Pearl ; " but you must put your china in places 
 beyond his reach ; for the breaking of it all chil- 
 dren you know, my dear Mrs. Servit, are much 
 given to, especially when it is very good. I re- 
 member myself, that my grandmother had a beau- 
 tiful green Mandarin standing at the front of her 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 cupboard, with a provoking smile, which made 
 me and my companions (alas they are all dead and 
 gone now !) resolve to punish it with walnuts. 
 One day after dinner, we went to take our revenge, 
 but there was some mistake in our aim, for as I had 
 the first shy, I missed the image, and brought down 
 a tier of jelly-glasses, which had stood in the upper 
 shelf as long as I remembered, and the use of 
 which my worthy ancestors could not tell, but said 
 that somebody once borrowed them to hold sylla- 
 bles." 
 
 " Ah !" said Mrs. Servit, " great is the odds be- 
 tween gets that are of the male sex, and mim well- 
 bred misses ; but I remember in my younger day, 
 this world was not without sin ; one fast, I mind it 
 as well as yesterday, a pea was put in the stroup 
 of our best tea-pot, by a hand that shall be name- 
 less, and twelve month good after, my mother hap- 
 pened to discover the misdeed, and I trow she too 
 well knew where to lay her angry hand ; but really, 
 Mr. Pearl, we are forgetting, that as the old cock 
 crows the young cock learns, and I was going to 
 say, that if this mischief would settle himself, we 
 could afford to keep him very well ; but he must 
 give up this handling of valuables if we do." 
 
 " Then," replied Mr. Pearl, " you think that 
 we might do worse than keep the boy altogether ?" 
 
 " Worse !" exclaimed the good lady, " it would 
 be an almous deed to do so, especially as we read 
 every week in the news how men are put to death 
 by the war in High Germany, to say nothing of the 
 crowded state of the parish workhouse, and the 
 swarms of pocket pickers in London town, that 
 have hands like tongs and fire-shovels ; but, sir, 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 29 
 
 these are not all the reasons that spring up in my 
 mind like hemp stalks, when I think of it : what 
 would you say if our foundling was a lord's son ?" 
 
 The old man shook his head, and gravely con- 
 fessed that his thoughts did not run so high : 
 "I am a moderate man in all things," said Mr. 
 Pearl ; " but for the sake of conversation, sup- 
 pose that the rags were his own clothes, and his 
 parentage no better than it should be." 
 
 " Did I ever hear the like of that !" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Servit : " had Neddy raxed over the table 
 and gripped a potatoe in an unmannerly paw, like 
 a grumphie, there might be some sense in the ob- 
 serve ; but after seeing him with your own eyes 
 dining like a judge or a provost, such a speech, 
 you will excuse me, shows the frailty of your un- 
 derstanding. I wonder how a man of your discre- 
 tion should let such words fall out of his head.' 7 
 
 " I confess," said Mr. Pearl, " that as you have 
 put the proposition, my inattention deserves the re- 
 buke ; nothing can be clearer than that little 
 Neddy is no vulgar boy ; and as I find that idle 
 time sits upon me with the loose entanglement of a 
 giant's mantle, I think he will help me to make a 
 good habit of it." 
 
 "'Can you have a misdoubt?" said Mrs. Servit; 
 " he will be a pleasure to you, and give all the 
 comfort that a parent enjoys, and not have troubled 
 you with the pains of child-birth." 
 
 To this effect, while they sat after dinner, the 
 good and kind lady and gentleman, with that free- 
 dom with which they were in the custom of prac- 
 tising towards each other, thus severally discussed 
 whether Edward Troven should remain with them; 
 
30 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 and, in the end, the question was settled between 
 them in the affirmative : we have, in consequence, 
 an agreeable task to execute, namely, the details of 
 our hero's education, and that love and care which, 
 as he grew to maturity, served to make him answer 
 all the purposes of a true son to Mr. Pearl and 
 Mrs. Servit. 
 
 In adopting him, however, the neighbourhood 
 very sapiently expressed their disapprobation of 
 the kindness. They foresaw from the ill-judged be- 
 nevolence of the act, an increase of the poor-rates : 
 and Miss Priscilla Gadfly, in taking tea one even- 
 ing with Mrs. Wycombe, made a point of hearing 
 the doctor on the subject ; and he agreed, that how- 
 ever commendable the act might be in an indivi- 
 dual sense, yet in a general, it was ill-timed, inex- 
 pedient, and could not be sufficiently reprobated. 
 
 " That, Doctor," replied Miss Priscilla, " is just 
 the echo of my own thoughts ;" for she was an 
 old maid past bearing, who looked upon children 
 as living nuisances, going before her to church, 
 becking their heads and mimicking her gait. 
 
 Hearing the Doctor so decided in his opinion of 
 the ill example which Mr. Pearl's soft-heartedness, 
 as he said, set to the rest of the world, she in- 
 quired if there were no law by which the found- 
 ling might be taken from him, and the parish bea- 
 dles instructed to convey the astonishment and 
 surprise of the whole neighbourhood at his unjus- 
 tifiable conduct. Dr. Wycombe was a prudent 
 man, and made no answer to the lady ; but, rising 
 from his seat beside her, he went to another part 
 of the room, leaving her to descant on thoughtless 
 and charitable delinquency. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 31 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 NOTHING occurred particularly during the educa- 
 tion of our hero. Before going to the school of 
 Dr. Wycombe, he was only remarkable for his good 
 nature and sprightliness, with now and then a 
 streak of something singular, that at times seemed 
 like the endowment of genius. At school he was 
 not distinguished from the other boys ; he learned 
 his lessons as well, not better ; but he took appa- 
 rently little interest in their pastimes, and yet he 
 was the best beloved of the school. Nature had 
 given him the disposition, at that early age, of being 
 uncommonly obliging : of all his qualities, he 
 was chiefly eminent for the willing cheerfulness 
 with which he undertook and performed every 
 thing that was required of him, innocent in itself 
 and required with deference, for pride was a very 
 obvious ingredient in his character not an over- 
 vreaning pride, that made him think himself better 
 than others, but an independence of spirit, that 
 kept him from consenting to do what his mind did 
 not approve. To his benefactor and Mrs. Servit 
 he was an acquisition, and the light which shone 
 
32 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 around him was an ample return for their kind- 
 ness. Before he was brought to the house, their 
 life was monotonous ; it was not certainly shaded 
 with any hue of sadness, but it was dull and uni- 
 form. Mr. Pearl, after consuming his best years 
 in the routine of office, often felt it tedious ; the 
 prankful childhood of Troven, however, diversified 
 its current, and made it brighter and apparently 
 gayer. 
 
 After spending the usual time at school, our 
 hero declared his intention to study the law, in- 
 duced by an impressive elocution in which his 
 school-fellows acknowledged his superiority. 
 
 When the time arrived that he should attend 
 the university, Mr. Pearl, to whom he was become 
 almost necessary, consented to the separation with 
 reluctance. He was then, indeed, become very 
 infirm, but he possessed a competency of good 
 sense that kept his innocent peculiarities from 
 being obtrusive. Age and inclination would have 
 made him retain Troven with himself, but he saw 
 that it would be for the advantage of the young 
 man to support him at college, and, accordingly, 
 with the same willingness that he had borne the 
 cost of keeping him for many years, he contributed 
 with pleasure to his further education. 
 
 The removal from Mr. Pearl's house to the mo- 
 nasteries of Oxford, was the era of a change in the 
 life of our hero. Under the wing of his protector, 
 it had passed with mirth and happiness ; his play- 
 ful temper lent a sparkling animation to every thing, 
 which increased the pleasures of Mr. Pearl's life ; 
 and there was something in the maternal assiduities 
 of Mrs. Servit, in excellent harmony at all times 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 33 
 
 with the hilarity of his spirits ; but it was re- 
 marked, after his arrival at Oxford, that he became 
 more thoughtful, as if a sterner quality were added 
 to his other gifts, and the change undoubtedly 
 partook of that nature. This alteration, which 
 was soon visible, was the effect of reflections on his 
 foundling condition. With Mr. Pearl he had no 
 experience, or rather he was not sensible of any 
 essential change from what he had been accus- 
 tomed to in his father's house ; but at the uni- 
 versity he felt his own nothingness, and his reflec- 
 tions on it was that hardening of character to which 
 we have alluded ; in other respects he did not ap- 
 pear in any degree altered ; he pursued, with the 
 same constancy, his studies, and held the same 
 rank, as to ability, which he did at Dr. Wycombe's 
 school in the latter time. He was spoken of some- 
 what, however, more decidedly as a man of ge- 
 nius, and, from the regularity of his conduct, it 
 was inferred that he would be a distinguished cha- 
 racter, but his talents were under-rated ; in fact, 
 Troven was one of that kind of young men in 
 whom the intellectual development is slow and 
 long, but the extent to which it may reach is sel- 
 dom ascertained ; for their progress is to the end 
 of life, and never interrupted but by the accident 
 of disease. 
 
 In the beginning of life conduct is of more im- 
 portance than talent ; and it was from the augury 
 formed on his manners, more than on his superior 
 endowments and attainments that his success was 
 predicted. He was still, however, a remarkable 
 young man, and had that air and predilection 
 about him by which, unconscious to himself, 
 
 VOL. IV. D 
 
34 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 he formed his intimates among the students of 
 rank. 
 
 At that time his brother, who had succeeded to 
 the title of Lord Buyborough and the inheritance 
 of the Mordant family, was at Oxford, and more 
 esteemed for the qualities of his heart than his head, 
 but nevertheless a good plain character one 
 distinguished rather for honesty and sincerity than 
 talents or loftier virtues. Between his lordship 
 and our hero some accidental acquaintanceship 
 arose, but it was followed by no particular inti- 
 macy ; all that can properly be said of it was that 
 they were known to each other just as we some- 
 times see in society men meet one another with a 
 readier recognition, who are still not particularly 
 acquainted. Of their mutual relationship they 
 had, of course, not the slightest conception ; and 
 the term passed with both in this ignorance. At 
 the close of it his lordship retired to his friends 
 and greatness ; and our hero to the house of his 
 benefactor, which he considered his home, and in 
 which he never missed the lack of any circumstance 
 which renders home agreeable. Mrs. Servit, it is 
 true, was a little vexed to observe the change in 
 his character, which, however, she kindly attributed 
 to some occult influence of the college, for which 
 she entertained a very reverential opinion ; but 
 when, at last, the first impression wore off, and 
 she perceived that it was an addition more than 
 an alteration that made him so sedate, she recon- 
 ciled herself to the change by ascribing it to his 
 advance in life. 
 
 Mr. Pearl was not so observant as the worthy 
 matron : at no time very sharp, the decay of age 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 35 
 
 had blunted his faculties, but all his feelings were 
 absorbed in the pleasure of seeing our hero again. 
 When setting life, however, had given forth its 
 fading glow, he sunk back into the lethargy from 
 which he only now and then, as it were, awoke. 
 His situation was not, indeed, calculated to brighten 
 the reflections of our hero, for every thing about 
 him showed that he was on the shore of time, and 
 could not have long to live. 
 
 All day Mr. Pearl sat drowsy in his easy chair 
 by the fire, whose vigour was regulated by the 
 weather, and spoke little, but still it was to the 
 purpose ; and what he said showed that his re- 
 collection was unimpaired ; but while Troven re- 
 mained with him, he took, after the first evening, 
 no notice of him, and, in consequence, perhaps 
 the time was duller than its wont. At last it was 
 necessary that Troven should return to college, and 
 he bade adieu to the helpless old man with a pang 
 that did credit to his nature. He saw that his days 
 would not be long in the land, and felt that, when 
 he was gone, all around him would be a desola- 
 tion ; but the buoyancy of youth was still in his 
 bosom, and he returned to the scehe of his studies 
 with mingled sadness, resolution and courage. 
 
 On the day subsequent to his departure, Mrs. 
 Servit remarked, that Mr. Pearl was greatly ex- 
 cited ; his bed was restless, and in his easy chair 
 he had no repose. A change, she apprehended, 
 was about to manifest itself, and she was touched 
 with anxiety and alarm, but her fears were not of 
 long duration. The old man brightened up, and 
 for several days seemed to recover his wonted 
 strength, like that second growth with which, at the 
 D 2 
 
36 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 fall of the year, trees and shrubs sometimes shoot 
 forth in leaves of a brighter green. He spoke to 
 her of making his will, and of inviting, for that 
 purpose, a relation, Mr. Ezra Pearl, an attorney 
 settled in the next market town. 
 
 As he mentioned his intention to Mrs. Servit, 
 she was greatly startled at hearing of this remote 
 cousin, but she only signified that she heard his 
 intention. However, Mr. Ezra was sent for, and 
 received the old man's instructions, completing the 
 will without Mrs. Servit being consulted as to any 
 of its provisions a circumstance which was ex- 
 ceedingly discomfortable to her, for she thirsted to 
 know the legacies, and to whom left, and parti- 
 cularly the amount bequeathed to Troven. 
 
 Previous to this time, knowing Mr. Pearl had 
 no near relations, she had built an airy castle that 
 he would be the inheritor, and herself allowed to 
 superintend his domicile after the death of his be- 
 nefactor. But all her phantom fabric was destined 
 to be dissolved. She bore, however, the trial with 
 equanimity, and her rectitude prevented her cu- 
 riosity from attaining that ascendancy which a 
 surreptitious inspection of the document would 
 have produced. We, however, must return to 
 our hero, and describe what passed with him be- 
 fore we have again occasion to advert to this inv- 
 portant transaction. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 37 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE natural aristocracy of our hero's manner, 
 which Mrs. Servit ascribed to college learning, 
 continued to increase, and he had not been long at 
 Oxford for the second time, when his distinguished 
 air attracted universal attention. Whether it arose 
 from the intensity of his reflections about himself, 
 or was a development of his corporeal appearance, 
 would lead us into too nice a discussion were we 
 to attempt to ascertain, nor would it much amuse 
 or instruct the reader if we did ; let it suffice then 
 that we merely mention the fact. 
 
 This peculiarity and some secret affinity, led him 
 among other young men who were esteemed of a 
 higher rank, and as his company was agreeable to 
 them, he was much thought of at their parties ; 
 the consequence was, that although Mr. Pearl's al- 
 lowance was as liberal to him as to a son, he soon 
 found it inadequate to enable him to keep this sort 
 of society, and saw if he exceeded what his gene- 
 rous friend so freely gave, he might incur his dis- 
 pleasure before he was prepared to take a place in 
 the business of the world ; he might feel, in conse- 
 
38 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 quence, all the calamities of his unfortunate found- 
 ling condition. This gave rise to thoughts gravi- 
 tating towards independence. He soon perceived 
 that his studies, except for the flourish of quotations 
 in speeches, were not likely to be of much use 
 in his professional researches : at Dr. Wycombe's 
 school he had acquired a tolerable knowledge of 
 the classics, and attendance at lectures, hearing 
 prayers and solitary reading, constituted his em- 
 ployment at the University. All he learned there that 
 would be useful to him afterwards, he saw, might 
 as well be acquired in one of the inns of court of 
 London as in Oxford ; accordingly, he wrote to Mr. 
 Pearl how the case stood, and entreated that he 
 might be permitted to enter himself at once in the 
 Temple, adding, that if his allowance were not suffi- 
 cient for a residence in London, he would endea- 
 vour, by literary pursuits, to supply what would 
 be wanted, while it would remove him from those 
 acquaintances with whom he was convinced his cir- 
 cumstances did not justify him in associating. 
 
 The old man received his letter with pleasure ; 
 he was at no time of a discerning spirit, but he 
 saw in this request, a consciousness of possessing a 
 brave ability to encounter the world, and a feeling 
 of independence, which could not be sufficiently 
 applauded. Mrs. Servit did all she could to en- 
 hance this impression, it was to her as a fulfilment 
 of a prophecy, which she had herself long pre- 
 dicted. Her joy at seeing her favorite so soon 
 among the lights of the world can be better ima- 
 gined than described. 
 
 The permission was readily granted, and the 
 preparations for a final settlement in London, were 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 39 
 
 so quickly undertaken by Troven, that in a few 
 days before he intended to leave the University, it 
 was known to his companions that he would soon 
 remove, and one of them, we forget his name, a 
 young gentleman commoner, the heir to a consi- 
 derable estate, gave an entertainment of wine and 
 a dessert, in his chambers, in honour of his depar- 
 ture. At this party was a Mr. Bradford, who, 
 though very intimate with the host, was not much 
 acquainted with our hero, for he did not like Tro- 
 ven, and, in consequence, cared little for his com- 
 pany. 
 
 Mr. Bradford was one of those characters which, 
 luckily for the world, are of a bifold nature. He 
 was endowed with more talent than most men, but 
 he was extremely jealous of a superior ; and the 
 effect of this was disagreeably encreased even to a* 
 morbid degree, when, by any accident, his opinions 
 were not received with that deference to which he 
 considered them entitled. With his inferiors he 
 was much esteemed ; they acknowledged his ability, 
 and he felt his superiority ; with his equals he was 
 captious and disagreeable ; and towards those who 
 were his undoubted superiors, he was sullen and 
 detractive, nor did his manners mitigate his conceit 
 of himself. He was an only son ; his father was 
 dead, and his mother, under whose eye he had 
 been entirely educated till he came to college, was 
 a vain, capricious woman, from whom he inherited 
 an uncertain temper, that made him often appear 
 very unamiable. This defect was united to a 
 vulgar person, and a physiognomy not prepossess- 
 ing. 
 
 That Mr. Bradford was not, in any respect, our 
 
40 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 hero's equal, was very obvious. In person it would 
 have been absurd to compare them : in acquire- 
 ments Troven was greatly his master, and his high- 
 born air, and the beautiful melody of his elocution, 
 were such as are seldom met with. In the party 
 Bradford . was not content ; the lustre of Troven 
 was, to his, as the diamond to the garnet ; and, as 
 the wine kindled his feelings, he became more and 
 more excitable. He felt that he was but secondary 
 to Troven, and, before the evening was half spent, 
 he regarded him with ill-concealed antipathy. 
 
 We shall not describe all the workings of this 
 irksome sentiment, but, in the course of conversa- 
 tion, some debate arose how a particular passage of 
 an ancient oration should be delivered. Different 
 gentlemen illustrated their opinions by repeating 
 the passage, and among others our hero. His fine 
 appearance, and the eloquence of his voice, were 
 so manifestly superior, that his version was ad- 
 mitted by acclamation to be the best. But Brad- 
 ford remained silent; his ungainly figure and 
 husky voice, made him far below the level of Tro- 
 ven ; and, undoubtedly by the influence of the 
 wine, he, with more acrimony than was necessary, 
 pronounced the whole affair as a silly exhibition of 
 spouting. 
 
 The greatest weakness in the character of Troven 
 lay in the belief of his superior elocution, and he 
 was nettled to hear a person speak so lightly of the 
 art, especially as that person was , by nature inca- 
 pable of excellence in it. He said, however, no- 
 thing offensive, intending to let the subject pass, 
 but he looked at the spiteful Bradford with ineffa- 
 ble scorn ; and, to save the recital of details, his 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 41 
 
 look was instantly noticed. A violent altercation 
 ensued, to which Bradford, incensed by drink and 
 passion, concluded with demanding satisfaction or 
 an apology. 
 
 Troven refused both in the most decided manner, 
 and proved to the satisfaction of the other gentle- 
 men present, that he was not the insolent aggressor. 
 In doing this, he conducted himself at once with 
 so much hauteur and propriety, that the company, 
 with the exception of Bradford, unanimously ac- 
 quitted him of any wrong, on which the envious 
 young man shrunk out of the room so meanly, that 
 he was sent to Coventry, by the resolution of the 
 whole party, at the recommendation of their host. 
 
 This affair made much noise at the time, and had 
 the effect of rendering Troven better known ; for, 
 this hauteur, of which every one spoke, was so well 
 tempered with propriety in his expressions, that his 
 good sense and just indignation were universally 
 admired, and he received many congratulations and 
 good wishes on his departure. Among others, his 
 brother, Lord Buyborough, was one of the fore- 
 most to stretch out to him the hand of friendship, 
 but as he remained at college he soon forgot him. 
 
 On arriving in London, with the natural promp- 
 titude of his character, Troven entered himself of 
 the Temple. Mr. Pearl had recommended him to 
 some of his friends to assist in the work, and re- 
 mitted to him a sum of money to furnish a set of 
 chambers. In this he was particularly fortunate ; 
 he fourld a set almost ready to receive him ; they 
 had been occupied by a gentleman who had lately 
 been called to the bar ; and who, though hampered 
 in his circumstances, was foolish enough to hire 
 
42 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 other rooms on the faith of the briefs he would re- 
 ceive as a barrister. His old apartments were, in 
 consequence, empty, and while they remained so 
 he incurred a heavier rent than he could afford ; 
 and, like all who are pinched for ready money, he 
 was obliged to make a sacrifice. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 43 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OUR hero was endowed from nature with a bright 
 and elastic spirit, which no grief could sully, nor 
 the weight of any care he had yet borne en- 
 tirely depress. But when he went to the chambers 
 he had rented, to take up his abode, a passing 
 shadow overcame him like that of the wrack, which 
 momentarily darkens the sunny field, and without 
 being able to assign any cause for his sadness, being 
 alone, he fell into a pensive reverie. 
 
 For almost the first time he became impressed 
 with his own situation : with Mr. Pearl and his 
 notable housekeeper he had passed a happy youth ; 
 they had never allowed him to recollect how friend- 
 less he was ; and the worthy old man himself 
 cheered his departure from his only home with joy- 
 ous anticipations of success and fame. But a 
 thought, rising like a vapour from an abyss, tainted 
 his reflections with distrust, and affected all his 
 cogitations with solemnity. 
 
 After yielding for some time to this brown study, 
 he suddenly roused himself from it, and condemned 
 a despondency never felt before, and which his 
 
44 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 judgment regarded as a mere cloud that would soon 
 pass away. 
 
 In the effort to escape from this momentary de- 
 pression into which he had fallen, he happened to 
 observe paper and writing materials on his table, 
 and being, as we have already said, innately cheer- 
 ful and alert, he turned towards them instinctively, 
 and gave vent to his feelings in the following verses, 
 mingling the characteristics of his gaiety with the 
 hue of his spirit. 
 
 TO THE MUSE. 
 
 Sweet sorceress ! in whose haunted bower 
 My youth has lavished many an hour ; 
 No more avails thy pleasing art, 
 The charm dissolves, and we must part. 
 
 No more shall I at blush of morn 
 Find iu the spider-woven thorn, 
 Extended film, or nectar bell, 
 Ingredients for thy midnight spell. 
 
 No more reclined at blazing noon, 
 Lulled by the roving bee's bassoon ; 
 See round my head thy menial sprites 
 Glance from their wings prismatic lights. 
 
 Nor, when the evening curtains fall, 
 And shadows walk the moonlight wall, 
 Shall I their sable forms detain, 
 To swell thy visionary train. 
 
 For care, the wrinkled hag abhorred, 
 
 Doth sadly change my bosom's lord ; > 
 
 And for thy bright enchanting dreams 
 
 Brings sordid, vain, alchemic schemes. 
 
 In composing these verses he felt a relief as if 
 the thoughtfulness in which he had indulged had 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 45 
 
 been a morbid load thrown off by the effort, but 
 his reflections of that time were the parents of a 
 long line. He never, after he had entered those 
 lugubrious chambers in the Temple, was altogether 
 the same man ; so much do trivial accidents affect 
 us. To strangers he presented, perhaps, the same 
 aspect, but to intimates he was evidently altered. 
 A deeper seriousness could be discovered by them 
 at the bottom of his gaiety, and accordingly the 
 quality for which he had hitherto been distinguish- 
 ed and beloved, became secondary and subordinate 
 in the development of more grave endowments. 
 
 It is however certain, that he himself was not 
 exactly sensible of the nature of the change. He 
 ascribed it to the influence of the dull domicile 
 which his circumstances had obliged him to choose, 
 and to his habits being formed in the freedom of a 
 country life. It is thus that we deceive ourselves : 
 we suspect not how much moral causes affect us, 
 and often ascribe to the impression of external cir- 
 cumstances the effects of the sediment of feelings 
 which lie heavy and deep on our own hearts. 
 
 For some time after Troven had settled himself 
 in his chambers, and delivered the two letters of 
 introduction which he had brought to the agents of 
 Mr. Pearl, he thought himself, without reason, idle 
 and restless. The forenoon was spent in aimless 
 rambles among the curiosities of London, and 
 every thing he had heard spoken of as such, he in- 
 dustriously endeavoured to see. He kept terms 
 assiduously in the hall ; but his evenings were often 
 consumed in his chambers, and alone ; occasionally 
 he went to the play, particularly on the evenings in 
 which Quin performed ; for there was in the style 
 
46 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 of that actor something more forensic than in that 
 of Garrick, at the same time he readily acknow- 
 ledged the superiority of the latter. 
 
 " In delivering the bursts of feeling and pas- 
 sion," said he, " Garrick excels all men ; but he 
 affects the emotions of an individual under the 
 calamities of private life : the public orator has to 
 sway others. In Garrick we see how a man would 
 act and feel in situations when he forgot that there 
 were lookers on, and grief was unsheathed ; but in 
 Quin there is ever the decorum which a pleader 
 should be capable of showing when he would bend 
 others to his purpose. The former is out of all 
 sight the best actor, but the latter presents a model 
 which the orator can never study too much." 
 
 In the evenings at home, Troven employed him- 
 self in reading for a certain time the literature of 
 his profession ; but he ever returned at the expiry 
 of that time to works emphatically considered as 
 those of genius ; for there was an innate quality of 
 elegance about him which rendered works of taste 
 more acceptable than those studies which a sense 
 of duty imperiously imposed. 
 
 This way of life did not, however, last ; he began 
 in the hall to form some acquaintance with the stu- 
 dents he met at dinner, and first he attracted their 
 notice by the gaiety and good humour with which 
 he afflicted some of those odd and singular charac- 
 ters who may still be found in the halls of the inns of 
 court : but this was an amusement which with such 
 a character could not long prevail ; the conceited, 
 the droll, and the eccentric, except where their pre- 
 dominant qualities are distinguished by an union 
 of talent, only afford recreation for a vacant hour ; 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 47 
 
 and in the end he attached himself almost ex- 
 clusively to one individual, a Mr. Villiers, who was 
 keeping commons, although far advanced in life, 
 and who seemed to shun every other acquaintance. 
 He was indeed a recluse man, and apparently mys- 
 terious, at least so much so, that he could not be 
 seen without awakening the curiosity of the spec- 
 tator. 
 
 At first Mr. Villiers shunned the advances of our 
 hero ; it perhaps could not be said that he declined 
 his acquaintance, but he evinced singular caution, 
 and slowly unfolded himself. 
 
 This reservation had the effect for some time of 
 making Troven very circumspect in what he said, 
 and wary in that silent solicitation which marks a 
 suitor for friendship ; but we must also add, that it 
 whetted his curiosity. The constancy of his at- 
 tentions, however, was soon rewarded ; he dis- 
 covered the symptoms of a thaw towards him, 
 which redoubled his anxieties to become more in- 
 timate with so cool and sequestered a character : 
 in the end he had the happiness to find his en- 
 deavours crowned with success. 
 
 One .exceedingly wet evening, when the rain 
 dashed from roofs and gutters, and the streets were 
 nearly deserted, he left the hall with Villiers, who 
 in a cursory manner invited him to come to his 
 chambers hard by. Glad of the invitation in such 
 a night, and still more to have subdued the pre- 
 judices of so extraordinary a man, he accepted the 
 invitation. 
 
 " You will only get a cup of coffee," said Mr. 
 Villiers, in a tone as if he repented the invitation he 
 had given. 
 
48 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 "It is double," was the answer, " to what I 
 should find at home; I shall have your company 
 and the coffee-pot more than I expect in my own 
 chambers." 
 
 There was nothing very brilliant in this expres- 
 sion, but it had the effect of better than wit on 
 Mr. Villiers, who indulged in a louder laugh than 
 was his wont, and added 
 
 " You have indeed suggested a very disconsolate 
 picture of a young templar's life, who intends one 
 day to be eminent." 
 
 By this time they had reached the bottom of the 
 stair which led to Villiers' chamber, where, direct- 
 ing our hero to follow, he ascended to the attics. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 49 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ON arriving at the chambers, Troven saw by the 
 order in which things were arranged, that it was 
 customary for Villiers' laundress, when he was 
 absent at the hall, to set out his coffee equipage, 
 for he had only, on this occasion, to place an ad- 
 ditional cup, which he did before sitting down. 
 
 During the time coffee was preparing, and in 
 the process of being drank, there was nothing re- 
 markable in their conversation ; it was trivial, 
 without being gay, and consisted of that sort of 
 topics which are often repeated and never recol- 
 lected. 
 
 As they finished, the woman entered, and, re- 
 moving the tray, left them to themselves without 
 speaking one word ; a short pause then ensued, 
 which Villiers broke by observing that he seldom 
 invited any body to his chambers, but he had long 
 intended to ask Troven. 
 
 " I have," said he, " resolved to make a friend 
 of you, if you will permit me." 
 
 " The favour," replied our hero, " is done to 
 me ; I have long desired to obtain your confi- 
 
 VOL. IV. E 
 
50 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 dence, but feared, from your manner, that in pre- 
 suming to do so, I had somehow, though uncon- 
 sciously, given you cause of dislike." 
 
 " My declaration/' said Villiers, " is an as- 
 surance sufficient to convince you of the contrary ; 
 but disappointments and misfortunes have made 
 me seem sullen when my heart is palpitating with 
 far other sentiments. From the moment I first 
 observed you at our table, I wished to become ac- 
 quainted with you, for I like that air of simplicity, 
 blended with superior talent, which every one that 
 sees you will recognize at a glance." 
 
 Troven bowed respectfully, for there was a tone 
 of kindness in the speech which at once awed and 
 pleased him. 
 
 Some interchange of civil expressions then passed, 
 and Villiers, without giving any formal account of 
 himself, said 
 
 " I dare say you are surprised that one of my 
 years should appear to be keeping terms ; but 
 though I dine often with the society, I am too old 
 to do so ; too old to begin a profession : the most 
 essential quality to success, ambition, is in me 
 quenched. The only desire that I have now re- 
 maining, is a lambent curiosity to view the budding 
 and blossoming of the rising generation. I have 
 been more than two years engaged in this pursuit, 
 but till I saw yourself it has been thriftless." 
 
 " You excite my curiosity," said Troven ; " for 
 when I first saw you in the hall you attracted my 
 attention, and every day subsequently the interest 
 has increased. It is but acknowledging a truth 
 to say that your age, your taciturnity, and ,some- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 51 
 
 thing like a sequestration from all others, have ap- 
 peared to me extraordinary." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so/' said Mr. Vil- 
 liers, " because it proves to me that I have awa- 
 kened your curiosity. I should have been mortified 
 to have found that you had regarded me as a com- 
 mon acquaintance ; not that I am in any respect 
 different from other men, but there is a moral 
 affinity which gratifies one's self-love to discover." 
 
 " Without flattering your vanity," replied Tro- 
 ven, " you cannot be seen by a stranger without 
 inspiring more curiosity than most men. I have 
 remarked, that some days you enter the hall, dine, 
 and retire without uttering a word ; conduct of 
 this kind is not, I believe, often met with." 
 
 Villiers smiled and said, " It may not be very 
 often met with ; but does it seem to you to arise in 
 me from nature or habit." 
 
 " In truth," replied Troven, " I cannot give you 
 an explicit answer ; sometimes I think it proceeds 
 from an innate feeling, at others it looks like the 
 effect of resolution, but undoubtedly there is much 
 of manner in it." 
 
 " I am obliged to you for your candour; what 
 you have said is not far from the truth. There 
 may have been originally about me some peculiarity 
 of character, which circumstances have modified, 
 but I am not sure of being actuated by any resolu- 
 tion. It may be, however, that I am ; for we often 
 flatter ourselves that we are unremarkable, even 
 with great singularities ; but this conversation is on 
 my part too egotistical, and I entreat you to forgive 
 me for making it so." 
 
 E 2 
 
52 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 Troven assured him that all apology was unne- 
 cessary ; for in his situation the acquisition of any 
 gentleman's friendship was a stroke of good fortune, 
 far more so than the generality of the world could 
 believe. 
 
 "Then/' replied Villiers, "you will not wince 
 at a little stipulation I would make in our inti- 
 macy ; perhaps but for that observation I should 
 not have made it at all." 
 
 " Let me hear what it is ?" 
 
 " Why, it is rather an eccentric emanation, I 
 am most happy to make your friendship, and to 
 give you, with sincerity, all that you may require 
 of mine ; but the condition is, that you do not 
 endeavour to search out more concerning me than 
 I may be myself disposed to communicate ; what 
 you learn by accident I cannot object to, but I 
 hate to be sifted. In truth I have not much to 
 tell ; I am what the world calls a disappointed 
 man, but more sinned against than sinning." 
 
 " I am glad," said Troven, " that you make the 
 stipulation ; I have, in fact, no curiosity about 
 your adventures or vicissitudes, but a great deal 
 about yourself." 
 
 " Some time," said Villiers after a pause, " I 
 may tell you what I am ; but, in the mean time, 
 believe that my reservation does not arise from the 
 singularities I have to tell it is the fruit of my 
 reminiscence. I have no pleasure in thinking of 
 the past, and because I cannot talk of it without 
 pain, I prefer to remain silent." 
 
 " I have no desire," interrupted Troven, " to 
 afflict you with any questions ; let us live together 
 as men are born into the world ; we have met, but 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 53 
 
 ^e know nothing of the places whence we have 
 come, nor of those to which we go." 
 
 " There is something in the observation/' replied 
 Villiers, " which falls in with my own humour ; 
 but you are a young man ; your adventures in life 
 are only beginning : mine are, in a great measure, 
 closed ; Experience has taught me ; and I may be 
 of use to you in sharing her councils with you 
 when doubt or difficulties arise." 
 
 In conversation to this effect the two friends 
 passed the evening together. In the ingenuous- 
 ness of Troven, Villiers found his misanthropy ap- 
 peased ; indeed, it was with him more habit than 
 passion, and he only required to be withdrawn 
 from the acrimony of his own thoughts, to be, with 
 all his peculiarities, a companionable man. But 
 as the friendship which thence grew up between 
 them had a material effect on the fortunes of our 
 hero, we are obliged at the hazard of being, by 
 some of our readers, deemed a little prolix, to give 
 in the next chapter, something more of what then 
 passed. 
 
54 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MR. VILLIERS continued, " but whatever may have 
 been the influence of incidents on myself, I have 
 learnt one lesson from them and the testimony of 
 years namely, that however much we may dislike 
 to acknowledge it to ourselves, we become at last 
 persuaded, if not convinced, that the Fate of the 
 inert atheist is, whatever he may imagine to the 
 contrary, but another epithet for that which the 
 sensitive man calls Providence. A man's visible 
 fortunes are but part and parcel of his whole lot. 
 If his cicumstances are to the world disastrous, de- 
 pend upon it those of his private life are no better." 
 
 " I understand you," replied Troven ; " you 
 would have me infer the general character of your 
 life from the sample." 
 
 " Even so : I regard myself as one of the un- 
 fortunate, and what I do not choose to disclose is 
 implied in what I have to tell He has a morbid 
 mind who seeks for sympathy by making the public 
 his confidant; nor does a discreet man pry into 
 the domestic condition of his neighbour. He ob- 
 serves the colour of the events in which he is en- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 55 
 
 gaged, and infers from it the complexion of his 
 private life." 
 
 Troven made no answer ; he sat ruminating for 
 some time. The remark seemed new ; and to con- 
 vey with delicacy that Villiers had not been more 
 felicitous in his other affairs than in those of public 
 concern. 
 
 Villiers also remained silent, and at last said 
 with pensive gaiety " You have happily used the 
 word sample ; to afford a fair criterion it must be 
 drawn from the heart ; but do you think that my 
 career has not been sufficiently dismal to justify 
 the recluse and solitary life I lead?" 
 
 " I have meant," cried Troven, " only that I hope 
 it has not been so cheerless as to account for the 
 repulsive I use the word in its gentlest sense 
 sequestration in which you dwell." 
 
 " True," said Villiers, " it may not ; I hope you 
 are mistaken ; but it is of no common texture, and 
 from what I have said you might have inferred as 
 much ; however, as we are on something like a 
 subject of fatalism, I would venture to say that I 
 have seen the forehead mark of those destined to 
 misfortune legibly upon them. There was always, 
 however, comfort in the observation ; for I have 
 remarked that those who had it, conducted them- 
 selves rather by rule than impulse mistaking the 
 desire to be good and great, without possessing the 
 endowment of talent requisite ; their life was one 
 continued series of attempts, and each a failure, 
 till disappointment begat melancholy 'that be- 
 came a habitude. But it is not of such I speak ; 
 all I would say is, that the world is governed by 
 good and ill fortune, independently of ought in 
 
56 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 conduct which an individual has the power of regu- 
 lating-. It is not revealed to us wherefore this is ; 
 and our human eyes may see in it only a blas- 
 phemous caprice ; but another state of being will 
 correct the hallucinations of the earth." 
 
 " I hope it will," said Troven ; " but I have had 
 no experience of the ills of life ; my days hitherto 
 have been cloudless, and I have never tasted mis- 
 fortune, nor ever heard a story calculated to breed 
 despondency." 
 
 " How !" exclaimed Villiers, " have I not been 
 told aright, that you were a foundling ?" 
 
 " I am ; but in being so I am not at this mo- 
 ment sensible of having suffered harm. I was 
 found a child, weeping on a common the tears 
 forgot as soon as shed. My rags were so very 
 poor that they wakened a suspicion of my hav- 
 ing been garnished with other clothing ; but 
 as no search was ever made for me, this notion 
 melted away, and in the kindness of the old gen- 
 tleman that brought me up, I knew not that pa- 
 rental love could have been sweeter ; all in my 
 path was bright ; and when I heard of others over- 
 whelmed with disasters, it was as the far-off sound 
 of the hoarse sea-shore." 
 
 " Then rejoice," cried Villiers, " your fate seems 
 to be happily cast; as it has been, so it is probable 
 it may be." 
 
 " Amen," said Troven, adding in a less solemn 
 tone, " you are a fortune-teller. Although I have 
 had my fancies about you, I never yet imagined 
 you were so." 
 
 " No," said Villiers gravely, " it was not likely 
 from the easy, good-natured characters with whom 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD 57 
 
 you were brought up, that you would give credit to 
 so much prescience. 
 
 " Then you knew them," replied Troven ; " they 
 were indeed excellent persons. Mr. Pearl is, I 
 think, exactly what a man should be, only he takes 
 too good-natured a view of the world ; and as 
 for Mrs. Servit, she is the paragon of animals, 
 blithe and obliging, and yet with a strength of 
 character not often seen." 
 
 Villiers smiled at this eulogium, and seemed for 
 a moment to regard our hero with benignity. " In 
 sooth," said he " I shall be a sorcerer next in your 
 opinion, for I have never seen your friends, nor 
 have I heard whence you came or where they re- 
 side ; but I am taught to believe, as I have said, 
 that fortune is all of a piece, and I infer from the 
 blandishments of early life you so gratefully ac- 
 knowledge, that it was in all things accordant and 
 auspicious to your future career. 
 
 Troven, very much affected by the manner in 
 which this was uttered, could not at once make any 
 reply ; but soon after he recovered his self-pos- 
 session, and said jocularly in manner, but really 
 with seriousness : 
 
 " Then I may think, notwithstanding the sun- 
 shine in which my youth was spent, that I am des- 
 tined to no common career, for, to the happiness I 
 have enjoyed, I have to reckon the friendship of a 
 very singular man." 
 
 " Yes," said Villers emphatically, " and his first 
 advice to you is, never attempt to guide the stream 
 of your fortunes, heaven will do that for its own 
 purposes, but in every situation do your utmost 
 and your best, leaving the result to providence." 
 
58 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 Troven saw that Villiers was not altogether the 
 kind of person he had imagined ; instead of the 
 sour and misanthropical character for which he had 
 set him down, he found a shrewd and practical 
 man, one who had retired from the world, not en- 
 tirely with disgust, but who had tasted its bitterness 
 and felt that he was unable with equanimity to 
 swallow the contents of his allotted chalice. There 
 was no doubt something about him which appeared 
 a little inexplicable, namely, those disasters which 
 made his domestic life partake of the lees which 
 embittered his public fortune ; but he spoke of 
 them unaffectedly, and, without specifying the rule 
 by which he was governed, made his auditor sen- 
 sible that they could not be described without a 
 violation of propriety. 
 
 This circumstance dwelt on his mind, and before 
 his departure for the night, he enquired hesitatingly, 
 why private cares should be withheld from public 
 sympathy. 
 
 Villiers, before giving any answer, looked at him 
 severely ; he was not offended at the question, but 
 evidently thought it impertinent, and said, with an 
 accent of sternness, 
 
 " Do you ask that question from curiosity, or do 
 you wish to learn a rule that all wise men observe ? 
 as you speak frankly so shall be my answer. " 
 
 Troven was abashed by his fervency, but seeing 
 at once the justness of his determination, replied, 
 
 " How can I hope to make you believe me ? If 
 I say from motives of curiosity, I will justly merit 
 almost the forfeiture of that friendship which 1 
 hope will in future exist between us ; and if I tell 
 the truth, will you believe me ? At the risk of both 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 59 
 
 of these painful alternatives, I confess that I am 
 actuated by the desire of knowing what you think 
 entitles domestic circumstances to be more hallowed 
 than others." 
 
 " I believe you," said Villiers ; " and I say so 
 with energy. It is because in domestic circum- 
 stances the game is not equal. In the first place 
 man has to deal with a weaker vessel, and his chil- 
 dren, where there is no delinquency, are called to 
 respect their mother quite as much as their father. 
 It does not follow, where the worth is undisputed, 
 they should know any cause of difference. House- 
 hold happiness does not rest on attachment, nor its 
 reverse arise from delinquency. It is a thing of taste 
 and humours, and the operation of its bane can 
 only be mitigated by a forbearance which cannot be 
 taught ; by a natural tact which no effort can ac- 
 quire, and without which no virtues can assuage 
 the troubles of life." 
 
60 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 NEXT morning Troven received a letter sealed with 
 black wax, and, by the superscription, he saw it 
 was from Mrs. Servit, and augured, from its ap- 
 pearance, that it contained no good intelligence. 
 When he opened it his worst fears were confirmed. 
 It announced to him the sorrowful news that his 
 benefactor, Mr. Pearl, was no more ; but we shall 
 give the good matron's own account of the event, 
 and offer no comment on her sad tale, premising 
 only that her letter affords a very fair specimen of 
 the literary accomplishment which prevailed at 
 that time among her class in the well educated 
 regions of Scotland. 
 
 " MY DEER MR. EDWARD, 
 
 " This comes hoppin you r very wel and in 
 elth, to let you know that Mr. Pearl my kine freen 
 an yoor's is, efter a sour strugle, in A-braw-ham's 
 buzom in Pairadice. He had bean komplanen for 
 sum days afore but was better, thank God for it, 
 and bein a vast dale empruvd he kame doun stirs 
 to take a dish of tee with i, and we was most 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 61 
 
 jokoz in the old wey, when he gav a lood skreeh 
 and fel bak in his share. I lokit in a frite at him, 
 he was a dreedful site to behold, his heed hangin 
 bac and his muth open, with his upre teeth stanin 
 out in a tereebel menre. I seaing this kryd to the 
 lasses, an they kame ring-in their hans wen they 
 sa im. So i sint Mollie for the potty kary and the 
 ministre Dr. Why come, thincken he was in a fight, 
 an note in the jas of deth wich we must all bend 
 our riees to in God's good tim. The pottycarie he kam 
 runingwith his lance in his han and too bottles o purg 
 in his pocket, but Dr. Whycom he sade to Mollie 
 it was of no yoos for im to go, if Mr. Pearl was 
 dead, an if he was stil aliv he might get better an 
 show us all what it is in the power of Providence 
 to doo, speshalie as the nite was wet an most un- 
 shootabel for a Kristian to poot his nozz out in. 
 
 " I hav ritten to Mr. Ezra Pearl the lawer that 
 mad the wil, of the Lord's dooing here, an in the 
 meen tim I have with witnesces seeld every drar 
 and disque heed in the hos with peppers til efter 
 the funerall, at wich I expec yoo, an no dout yoo 
 wil be greeved to heer al this, for it is a warrnin 
 an munishon to us to thinck of oor lattre en wich 
 no man can yskap from whoo dras the breth of 
 lyf in this orld. 
 
 " Wen al is ovre an he is led in the churchy ird 
 mools, it is my intent to go amung my freens in 
 Scotland, where I will spen the rezedoo of my 
 pyllcramach, butt I wil sea yoo her and we sal 
 dizcoors anent it, for I luk to yoo as a sun 
 an air. 
 
 " Dr. Whycom lukit ovre this mournin, and he 
 was to al intents and porpusses seeminlye a most 
 
62 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 affected man, and said a paternoster wen he saw 
 the corp that was very pityful to heer, butt if he 
 is a senseer man Heeven nos tho I hav a missdoot 
 on that heed. 
 
 " Wen yee com doun I wish yoo wood bring me 
 a pes of bumbeseen, for there is noon but a coorss 
 sort here in the villach, wich to be shoor is an 
 oongry place to by any thing in for an okashon. 
 
 " The funorall is to be on Tysday, I was for 
 Foorsday, butt it was the pinion of Mrs. Why- 
 come and other credditabel leddies that oor deer 
 deperted freen wood not keep so Ion, wich was 
 the because of my fixen on the erlier day, therefore 
 I expec yoo by the coch on Sattreday nite, an 
 yoo wil find the blew rume reddy for yoo, which 
 yoo hav a good rite to as I herd oor benifaktre 
 say not long before the spirrit left his boddy sittin 
 in the postre I have told yoo he dyed in. No 
 more at pressent, for my pepper is dun and my 
 pen is a very bad speller, so adoo. Your loving 
 friend till death, JANET SERVIT." 
 
 Troven, when he read this epistle, in spite of the 
 spelling, was deeply grieved ; his regret for Mr. 
 Pearl was very sincere, habit had knit him in 
 affection to the mild old man, and reason con- 
 firmed that he owed him much. He lost no time, 
 in consequence, in preparing for the journey ; and 
 as Mrs. Servit anticipated, he was set down at the 
 gate. She received him with her accustomed 
 gladness, softened, however, by a constrained de- 
 corum which death in the house obliged her to 
 assume ; but it went off, in a great measure, in 
 the course of the evening, and he endured her con- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 63 
 
 gratulations on a legacy with a moderation of satis- 
 faction that became the general cheerfulness of his 
 character. 
 
 But he spent the night wakefully. The amount 
 of Mr. Pearl's fortune was not known; rumour 
 spoke of it as large, and our hero set it down as a 
 competency to an old man who had but himself 
 to provide for. He, therefore, regarded it as not, 
 by the amount that would come to him, likely to 
 alter his predetermined course of life, while he 
 would be enabled probably to pursue his profession 
 without enduring those cramps and hamperings 
 which were, to one in his circumstances, inevitable. 
 
 He rose betimes, and leisurely, before Mrs. Servit 
 was stirring, walked out to view the scenes of his 
 childhood, and the dreary wilds of the common 
 on which he had been found a forlorn child ; but, 
 whatever at any other time these things were cal- 
 culated to have made him feel, they recalled only 
 pleasurable emotions, and, without a sentiment of 
 gaiety, he was far from being sad. 
 
 He renewed in memory the sportive feats in 
 which he had contended with youthful companions 
 whom he might never meet again ; but it was 
 pleasant to think that they were then striving for 
 the goal of fortune, and he amused himself with 
 wondering what might be their different lots. A 
 light and bounding joy for a time filled all his 
 thoughts ; for he was but a young man at the 
 starting post of his career, and disappointment of 
 any kind had not taught him to moralize on the 
 evanescence of hope, or to lament that those whom 
 he had seen jocund and playful were driven by 
 adversity into the shadows and chill places of life. 
 
64 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 On the common, however, his reflections were 
 more serious ; he thought of his abandoned in- 
 fancy, how much he owed to Mr. Pearl, whose 
 kindness could be no longer of any avail, and that, 
 but for his post obit generosity, which he was now 
 led to expect in a legacy, how bleak and shelter- 
 less his outset in the world had been. 
 
 His loneliness had never so affected him before. 
 He felt for himself; and, for the first time too, he 
 was sensible, like Mr. Villiers, that talents are only 
 blessed with half their efficiency when they are 
 without patronage and the heralding of connections 
 who feel their own interests involved in the result. 
 
 In this frame of mind, he walked desultory and 
 alone on the common, musing on his prospects and 
 ruminating on the past. It was a bright and 
 breezy day ; the birds of song carolled as in a gayer 
 season, but the wind swept coldly along the open 
 fields, and hissed, as it were, in the furze, which 
 rose in golden knolls around him. 
 
 In an open space, where the village-maidens 
 were in the practice of bleaching and sunning their 
 linen, he met Dr. Wycombe, who was then return- 
 ing from his morning walk : their encounter was 
 pleasant, our hero forgot, in the moment, his dis- 
 like of the Doctor's cold pomposity ; and the Doc- 
 tor at that time, to do him justice, had but a faint 
 recollection that Troven was only a foundling. 
 They greeted each other with warmth and cor- 
 diality, and the Reverend Doctor condoled with 
 him for the loss sustained by the neighbourhood in 
 the death of Mr. Pearl. 
 
 " But," said he, " the old man has, I under- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 65 
 
 stand, died without near relations ; however, we 
 shall soon know all the truth. Mr. Ezra Pearl, 
 who is but a third cousin, has been invited to the 
 funeral, and will read the will after we have seen 
 the interment. He speaks of it as a document 
 that reflects honour on the feelings of his relation, 
 and has never scrupled to mention with what 
 kindness all the friends abroad have been recol- 
 lected ; I hope he has fulfilled his promise to me 
 that he would bequeath a legacy for the re-edifi- 
 cation of the parish church." 
 
 In discourse of this kind the Doctor and Troven 
 returned home ; before parting, after a few suit- 
 able reflections, the Doctor invited our hero to 
 dinner, remarking that, although he did not that 
 day intend to go to church, he might come to din- 
 ner ; but, by this time, the dislike of Troven to 
 the arrogant and self-sufficient Dominie had re- 
 turned with all its force, and he declined the in- 
 vitation. At the same time he thought afterwards 
 on the familiarity of the Doctor as something un- 
 common, which he could not well explain : it made 
 him feel, in the instant, as if he had been treated 
 by his Reverence with greater equality and free- 
 dom than he had ever experienced from him 
 before. 
 
 " Deuce take mankind," said he, " if a little 
 more gilded trash can produce such changes ;" 
 for he ascribed the seeming cordiality of the Doctor 
 to a belief that he was left a legacy, and he had 
 long before noticed the sordid bias of his disposi- 
 tion. 
 
 VOL. IV. 
 
66 'THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 TROVEN, unable to divine the cause which induced 
 Mrs. Servit to summon him to be at Mr. Pearl's 
 house on the Saturday night, was, merely from that 
 circumstance, restless and uneasy; his walks on 
 Sunday had satisfied all his longings to visit his 
 only home, and there was nothing either in the man- 
 ner or information of Dr. Wy combe that in the 
 slightest degree interested him; for, although he 
 had been many years the pupil of that gentleman, 
 in whom he had discernment to see, before he en- 
 tered the world, that he was more indebted to the 
 regularity with which nature worked in him consti- 
 tutionally, than to the conclusions of an under- 
 standing pitched on an agreeable key, he yet never 
 regarded him with confidential feelings. Of the 
 other neighbours he knew little ; they were com- 
 mon-place kind of people, who had their best dinner 
 on Sunday, and no variety in their conversation 
 all the week. In consequence, he found himself 
 under no obligation to wait upon them, nor was it 
 the practice at that time for such a methodical 
 race to wait upon him. Sunday, accordingly, 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 67 
 
 passed in quietude with Mrs. Servit ; but, whether 
 the collision of London, or a slight inflection of his 
 own character, produced by a different mode of life 
 since he left home, we shall not venture to say, 
 while obliged to confess he thought that matronly 
 lady somewhat changed in her manners, and not to 
 any advantage. In truth, his residence in the me- 
 tropolis, where he was planted among strangers, and 
 all things around him were strange, had hastened 
 the development of his character ; he was himself 
 altered without being conscious of it, and thought 
 the good lady had suffered some deterioration 
 which was rather felt than susceptible of being 
 conveyed in words ; but she had undergone no mu- 
 tation ; she was in all things the same that he had 
 left, and the coarser lineaments which he now dis- 
 covered, were only the effects of a discernment that 
 a greater knowledge of the world enabled him to 
 exercise. 
 
 On the Monday morning, he was, however, still 
 convinced that she was actuated by some purpose 
 in asking him to come so long before the funeral ; 
 her silence during Sunday did not surprise him, 
 he recollected her Scottish habitual respect for the 
 Lord's day, and to it ascribed her abstinence from 
 temporal talk. On Monday she appeared less 
 scrupulous, and with nods and becks, and wreathed 
 smiles, she showed by her looks, though there was 
 a dead body, as she said, in the house, that her 
 mind was pregnant. Something in her manner at 
 breakfast, on the first day of weekly labour, con- 
 vinced him of this; but, suspecting after all, that 
 it could not be very vital to him whether he knew 
 the secret or not, he seemed more insensible to her 
 
 F2 
 
68 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 hints, than he altogether felt. At last, unable to 
 contain herself longer, she proposed that he should 
 marry her niece, to whom she intended to bequeath 
 her gathering ; and, to render the proposition more 
 acceptable, she allowed him to infer how instru- 
 mental she had been in convincing Mr. Pearl that 
 the residue of his fortune, after his numerous testi- 
 monials to old friends, could not be better bestowed 
 than on one to whom he had been so kind, and 
 whose boyish pranks and sprightly youth had 
 contributed so essentially to sweeten his latter 
 days. 
 
 Before Troven could make any reply to her pro- 
 position, Mr. Ezra Pearl came in, the same whom 
 we have mentioned as the attorney who had made 
 the will. Though far removed, he was yet the 
 nearest kinsman of the deceased, and he had in- 
 terred from Mrs. Servit's message, asking him in 
 so particular a manner to attend the funeral, that 
 she had seen the will and approved of its provisions : 
 a very short conversation however, convinced him 
 of his mistake ; she appeared only to know that the 
 deceased had intended to leave legacies of remem- 
 brance to his friends abroad. 
 
 Mr. Ezra Pearl was a little disappointed on ob- 
 serving her understanding of the document, but he 
 said nothing, nor did he afterwards affect any pri- 
 vilege arising from a kinsman to the dead. Mr. 
 Ezra Pearl merits, however, a more particular de- 
 scription, both on account of the part he played 
 among our dramatis persona*, and the high pedes- 
 tal on which he stood in his own opinion. 
 
 He was a corpulently inclined elderly man, with 
 a tye-wig powdered, Ionic curls over his ears, a 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 69 
 
 silk handkerchief round his throat over his neck- 
 cloth, and with a saturine complexion was a re- 
 spectable person for his years. It was impossible, 
 however, though dressed in black, to mistake his 
 profession ; we know that there are light-minded 
 people in the world, apt to think there is not that 
 professional air to which we allude, but we consider 
 them who think so as shallow observers. Nothing 
 is more obvious in the city of London, for example, 
 than that merchants and solicitors as they are called, 
 are marked as two separate races. It is not easy 
 to tell the difference between them, and yet it is 
 very palpable. They both wear broad-cloth, and 
 the latter, somewhat of a grave cut and colour, do 
 for the most part take snuff. There is, however, that 
 between them which is still more distinguishing, 
 and yet in what it consists the keenest observer 
 cannot exactly tell. 
 
 It thus happened that our hero, at the first 
 glance j recognised the profession of the unintro- 
 duced guest, and, without being able to explain 
 how such an untimely apparition should have mo- 
 lested him, he was molested ; and yet there was 
 nothing in the conversation of Mr. Ezra Pearl 
 likely to have given him the least alarm ; alarmed, 
 however, he was, or perhaps it would be more con- 
 sistent to say disturbed, and Mrs. Servit was no 
 less so ; but Mr. Ezra Pearl conducted himself 
 with the greatest propriety, and exceedingly re- 
 gretted lest he had come a day too soon ; but, 
 said he, " the weather this morning was so fine." 
 
 It was showery and dank, however, as far back 
 as Mrs. Servit and our hero could recollect, and 
 that was till daylight, a small mistake which 
 
70 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 he accidentally committed, and which, in no slight 
 degree, added to the perplexity that his first ap- 
 pearance had so inexplicably occasioned. 
 
 But Mr. Ezra Pearl was a sensible man ; he 
 made many observations that partook of this qua- 
 lity ; what he said might not be new or brilliant ; 
 we will not undertake to avouch it was, but the 
 day passed with him pleasantly, and he could re- 
 hearse much of the last gazette. Upon the whole 
 he proved a conversable companion ; Mrs. Servit, 
 however, did not expect him till the funeral day, 
 and was rather incommoded by his presence, which 
 materially interfered with her household thrift, and 
 could have been dispensed with. 
 
 Our hero was still more incommoded ; the visit 
 was ill-timed, and there was something which he 
 could not name that made him dissatisfied with 
 the visitor especially as he talked of many things ; 
 but of the will which he had himself made, he 
 opened not his mouth ; indeed, if words were al- 
 ways proofs of a profession, Mr. Ezra Pearl spoke 
 much more like a clergyman than a limb of the 
 law ; he said so many fine things concerning the 
 dispensations of providence ; the lot of humanity 
 and all that, which is so edifying to hear. At last 
 the day ran down, and he could not but be invited 
 to remain all night ; to do him justice, he plainly 
 expected it, for he never declined the offer ; and, 
 a clear proof of his predetermination, even before 
 the invitation was given, he had intimated that his 
 boots pinched, and that his feet would be the bet- 
 ter when they were set at liberty. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 71 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE longer we live, and the more we know of 
 the world, some say our misanthropy encreases; as 
 wine becomes flat and acid by exposure. Experi- 
 ence, however, teaches the reverse ; we grow, per- 
 haps, more hard-hearted, and encase ourselves, as 
 it were, in a shell ; grow more testaceous, as the 
 naturalists say, and act on the defensive ; but we 
 discern that it is not so much against man we need 
 protection, as from the necessity by which he is 
 driven. Human nature is individually better than 
 we are disposed to think, notwithstanding its col- 
 lective character requires all our art to ward off 
 its remorseless assaults. We do not, by age or 
 knowledge, sour into misanthropy ; we only come 
 to know man better, and see clearer how much he 
 is the agent of circumstances, ordained in their 
 order by fate or Providence. But it is time to re- 
 turn to our narrative, although sepulture is a 
 solemn subject, and calls forth moral reflections. 
 
 At the hour appointed, the interment of Mr. 
 Pearl took place, and with the exception of our 
 hero there were none of the burial guests who felt 
 
72 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 with sincerity his loss. They were all that day, 
 good easy men, to whom the calamities of life that 
 touched not themselves, passed as things of course; 
 every one of them knew that death was the lot of 
 all, and if he did not feel it was his, he had the 
 good sense to pretend he did, and " assumed a 
 virtue though he had it not." 
 
 When the ceremony was over, a few selected 
 friends were invited to see the seals with which 
 Mrs. Servit had carefully secured the drawers and 
 escrutoires broken, and to hear the will read. No 
 great number was assembled, but the parlour pre- 
 sented a solemn scene. The lady was weeping, at 
 least she held a cambric handkerchief to her face ; 
 Dr. Wycombe was grimly serious ; Troven thought 
 of the obligation he owed to his old friend ; and 
 Mr. Ezra Pearl, by whom the will was drawn, was 
 as a man in whose face the world might see strange 
 matters. He was not particularly at any time talk- 
 ative, on this occasion he was taciturn beyond his 
 nature ; and being professional, was scrupulous 
 that every thing should be suitable and done in 
 order. 
 
 When the guests had reposed the proper time, 
 and refreshed themselves after their duties in the 
 churchyard, Mr. Ezra Pearl signified, by a bow to 
 Dr. Wycombe, our hero, and another gentleman, 
 that it was time to proceed to business ; accord- 
 ingly, they went together with Mrs. Servit, to the 
 old genteman's private apartment, and beheld 
 monuments of her care in large patches of sealing- 
 wax on every door and drawer, some with long 
 legs run from them had the shape of semibreves. 
 
 The gentlemen had not to search long : in the 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 73 
 
 escrutoire which was first opened they found the 
 will, and returned at once into the room where the 
 other guests were waiting, and resumed their seats 
 with awe and silence. This being done, Mr. Ezra 
 Pearl remarked, that as the nearest of kin, it was 
 his painful duty to read the document, adding 
 
 " I believe myself already thoroughly acquaint- 
 ed with its contents, but it is proper that all the 
 law requires should be fulfilled." 
 
 Accordingly, he sedately put on his spectacles, 
 on the instrument for which we wear spectacles, 
 and began 
 
 The preamble of the will was in the usual style ; 
 it related that the testator was in good health, but 
 it also adverted to the uncertainty of life, and how 
 all men are bound to think of its transitory nature. 
 It was very affecting to Mrs. Servit, and she gave 
 a loud sob, and pressed her cambric handkerchief 
 to dry her watery eyes. 
 
 After some other unimportant remarks, the be- 
 queathing of the legacies succeeded ; the list of 
 friends abroad to whom tokens of kindness were 
 left, was very considerable ; none of these, how-, 
 ever, exceeded fifty pounds ; and though the list 
 showed a kind remembrance, the legacies severally 
 were, to the different gentlemen mentioned, not im- 
 portant. Then came a provision for an annual 
 sum to Mrs. Servit, which bespoke a good opinion 
 of the manner she had performed her tasks and 
 duties. All present congratulated her on this tes- 
 timony to her worth, but she herself was so affect- 
 ed, that she could only weep and sob in a very 
 audible manner. 
 
 Mr. Ezra Pearl, when a necessary pause had 
 
74 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 been allowed, resumed the reading without chang- 
 ing his voice, and read of a legacy to himself of 
 double the amount of those to the other legatees, 
 with the exception of the annuity to Mrs. Servit. 
 This, all observed, was very judiciously done, and 
 Dr. Wycombe pronounced a just eulogium on the 
 deceased. Then the attorney read the clause that 
 was so important to our hero ; an acquittal of all 
 the expenses of his education, &c. was freely 
 given. Dr. Wycombe said it was most extraordi- 
 nary generosity, and expressed his astonishment 
 when he heard immediately after the same legacy 
 bequeathed to him that had been to Mr. Ezra 
 Pearl. 
 
 " That/' said the legal instrument, " is all that 
 is said here, and of course I am the heir at law, 
 and entitled to the residue. " 
 
 At this it was observed, that Mrs. Servit took 
 the handkerchief from her eyes, and looking at him 
 curiously from beneath her brows, said 
 
 " Ye had better read likewise the codicil over 
 the leaf, as Mr. Pearl himself laid to with his own 
 hand that outshot." 
 
 Mr. Ezra Pearl changed colour at this ; his 
 sallow complexion took the hue of paleness ; how- 
 ever, he turned over the leaf, and read in the same 
 tone, but in a tremulous voice, a codicil in the 
 handwriting of the deceased, declaring that it was 
 his intention, after giving a specific legacy to the 
 young man, Edward Troven, who was well known 
 as his true-hearted friend, to make him his resi- 
 duary legatee ; that, contrary to his instructions, 
 the clause had been omitted by Mr. Ezra Pearl, 
 who drew up the will, and that he was constrained 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 75 
 
 in this manner to make his intention known, and, 
 with his own holograph, to bequeath the residue 
 to the aforesaid young' man. 
 
 At this crisis, Mrs. Servit, who was looking 
 stedfastly at the attorney, gave a great shout, 
 clapping her hands. He fell back in his chair 
 smitten with consternation, but in a few minutes 
 recovered, and, rumpling up the parchment on 
 which the will was drawn, showed that the desire 
 to destroy it was kindled in his heart. It deserves 
 to be recorded, that it was at his suggestion that 
 the document, to increase the price, was written on 
 vellum instead of paper. However, his astonish- 
 ment did not last long, for Dr. Wycombe rose 
 from his seat and snatched the important docu- 
 ment from his grasp ; but he was none daunted, 
 and said, as it was taken from him, with an affec- 
 tation of coolness 
 
 " It is of no consequence ; I deny that the writing 
 is my kinsman's ; it bears, no doubt, something of 
 his character, and I will not, if there be law in 
 England, give up my right." 
 
 1 The gentlemen present heard this declaration, 
 and looked at one another, but the Doctor was the 
 first who broke silence. He rose with the will in 
 his hand, and, stepping forward two paces, pre- 
 sented it to our hero, and, with well accentuated 
 phraseology, congratulated him on his good luck 
 in succeeding to an inheritance which placed him 
 at once in moderate independence. 
 
 While he was speaking, the attorney also rose, 
 and huffily quitted the room, with all the airs of 
 a person justly offended. Mrs. Servit, no less ar- 
 dent than the Reverend Doctor in her congra- 
 
76 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 tulations, told our hero, before the whole assem- 
 blage, that he might thank her ; for, on the night 
 that her old friend died, a misgiving arose in her 
 mind respecting the will, and she advised him, 
 when he mentioned that he had never read it, to 
 look it carefully over. Giving her the key of his 
 deskhead, she brought it to him, and lo and be- 
 hold, he saw that the clause, which bequeathed 
 the residue of his fortune, was left out. " An 
 angry man was he, as the song sings," said she ; 
 " and I, bringing him pen and ink, he wrote the 
 just Nota Bene which we have all heard this day." 
 The fact was as the worthy lady stated, and was 
 the cause of those important looks which our hero 
 had noticed, and the secret reason, besides par- 
 tiality, which had induced her to offer him her 
 niece in marriage. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 77 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MR. EZRA Pearl was one of those demi-aclroit 
 men who abound in the world, and of whom the 
 more knowing say, their knavery only over-reaches 
 themselves. Before the event which we have re- 
 lated, he enjoyed a respectable reputation, and, 
 though not much liked, he possessed an extensive 
 good character, with, however, a slight flaw that 
 was obvious to the eyes of reflection. 
 
 From the time his kinsman returned from abroad 
 he accounted himself his heir, and, inconsequence, 
 paid him those attentions with assiduity which be- 
 came his situation ; but, although the old man took 
 his character from report, he never much relished 
 his company : they became acquaintances indeed, 
 but never intimates. 
 
 Among many unwise transactions in which Ezra 
 Pearl engaged after the arrival of his kinsman, was 
 a liberal settlement made on the marriage of his 
 son, on the faith of his inheritance ; and this was 
 the cause and temptation which led him into the 
 commission of a deception which the good-natured 
 world could never sufficiently condemn. 
 
78 THE STOLEN CPIILD. 
 
 One bad act is the forerunner of another ; he 
 saw that his character was gone if he submitted to 
 acknowledge the authenticity of the codicil : no 
 doubt he would have proved himself a wiser man 
 had he done so, but his settlement on his son was 
 more than he could afford from his own means, 
 and he was driven, in consequence of the failure of 
 his hope, to act as he did. By one ill deed he 
 was led to worse ; and, accordingly, before the 
 gentlemen who had attended to hear the will read 
 had departed, he retired to the neighbouring inn 
 from which, with his own hand, he wrote to Troven 
 his intention to throw the whole business at once 
 into Chancery, and to dispute the validity of the 
 codicil. 
 
 He expected by this promptitude to rescue his 
 reputation and to evince his suspicion of a fraud ; 
 but haste is not always speed ; Mrs. Servithad, be- 
 fore his letter arrived, told her story, and the con- 
 sequence was, that a strong prejudice was excited 
 against him, and which his letter, instead of soften- 
 ing only, served to make more austere. His cha- 
 racter at the moment was gone, and Dr. Wycombe 
 shook his head ; but in the course of a few minutes 
 the reverend Doctor changed his mood, and with- 
 out speaking, recollected that our hero had come 
 longer before the funeral than was necessary, and 
 had declined his hospitable invitation on Sunday, 
 all which were ominous circumstances as he 
 thought, which should be well considered, before 
 the character of a man who had reached so far in 
 life with an unblemished reputation, should be 
 wrecked. 
 
 When the Doctor went home and told the result 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 79 
 
 to his wife, he added, that a great deal might be 
 said on both sides of the question, and was curious 
 to know what had induced Troven, who was so 
 little acquainted with the way in which the will 
 was drawn up, as not to know it, to be on the spot 
 two days before the seals were opened. 
 
 To Troven himself the discovery of the attorney's 
 baseness, inhanced as it was by many circumstances 
 which Mrs. Servit related, appeared unequivo- 
 cal, at the same time the uncertainty of the law 
 rendered the threat a serious molestation. All the 
 brilliant hopes which had blazed up when the will 
 was read were suddenly quenched ; brief as the 
 flames which a breath extinguishes, or as the blight 
 withers a garland plucked from the spray, or as the 
 glow of the cloud at the moment when the sun sets, 
 or as the beam of the meteor that expires in the 
 sky, or as the melody that ends with the diapason, 
 or as the fragrance of the lily that perishes with 
 the flower, or as the blossom that never sets in 
 fruit, and all the hopes of man that are never rea- 
 lized ; or, as Burns says more picturesquely of 
 pleasure : 
 
 " Pleasure is like poppies spread ; 
 We seize the flower, the bloom is shed ; 
 Or like the Borealis race, 
 That flit ere we can point the place ; 
 Or like the snow-flake in the river, 
 A moment white and gone for ever ; 
 Or like the rainbow's lovely form, 
 Evanishing amidst the storm." 
 
 The remainder of the day was the most unhappy 
 Troven had yet endured ; he had no fortune to 
 
80 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 withstand the attorney ; independence seemed 
 flourishing in his reach, but it was removed, like 
 the feast of Tantalus, in the tasting. 
 
 We shall not attempt to describe how he spent 
 the time. Mrs. Servit was neither to bind nor to 
 hold ; she saw, wherever she turned her eyes, but 
 monuments of man's roguery, and her unceasing 
 complaints would have been almost ludicrous, had 
 she not pathetically recollected the needs of old 
 age, the fruitlessness of her life, and the price, in 
 cheerful toil, which she had paid for the food and 
 raiment that she was never to attain. 
 
 It occurred to our hero, in the midst of his dole- 
 ful ruminations, that he ought to take no step 
 without friendly advice ; but, in all the inhabit- 
 ants of what he considered his native place, there 
 was not one to whom he could apply. As a found- 
 ling they deemed him greatly fortunate in obtain- 
 ing the patronage of Mr. Pearl, and it was natural 
 to imagine that his kinsman had a better right to 
 inherit the fortune : he was again, as he exclaimed 
 to himself, forsaken on a dreary common, and, 
 unless Providence was pleased to send help, he 
 was alone, defenceless, and in danger. But just 
 as these words escaped him, he recollected Villiers, 
 and, with the wonted alacrity of his character, he 
 resolved to return to London and to lay his case 
 and situation openly before that remarkable man. 
 
 Resolution and action with Troven always went 
 together. The same evening he watched for the 
 coach, and returned with it to London. Early in 
 the morning he arrived and went directly to his 
 own chamber, where he expected to refresh him- 
 self with sleep before waiting on Villiers, but he 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 81 
 
 could not close his eyes : he tossed on his couch 
 in such a manner that he scared it from settling on 
 his eyelids. He thought of his situation and of the 
 wealth he might possess by incurring a little out- 
 lay ; but where was the amount of that outlay to 
 come from. In all the wide earth he saw not one 
 to whom he could apply for assistance, and the 
 fortune before him seemed of such stuff as dreams 
 are made of a luminous phantom that vanished 
 from his grasp. 
 
 But time never stopped, and the hour arrived in 
 its appointed course in which he had determined to 
 see Villiers ; he rose, feverish and in some degree 
 ghastly with the fatigue of his night-travelling and 
 the irksome hours in which he had in vain solicited 
 sleep. 
 
 It was a grey and louring day, and its aspects 
 were not enlivened within the courts of the Tem- 
 ple ; all things seemed to partake of the gloom 
 and settled sadness of his mind ; " And yet/' said 
 he to himself as he walked towards Villiers' cham- 
 bers, " why should I feel so depressed ? my condi- 
 tion is no worse than if the old man had longer 
 lived; and though I acknowledge the kindness of 
 his intentions, in what am I less able to bear this 
 disappointment than if he had not made me his heir? 
 I ought to have rejoiced when I heard that he ac- 
 counted the expense I had incurred but as a gift, and 
 his specific legacy was more than I could have ex- 
 pected ; and yet I am grieved and smitten with an 
 unwholesome mourning because he has left me all : 
 a few trivial bequests to others mark the greatness 
 of his regard for me." 
 
 By this time he had reached Villiers' door ; and, 
 
 VOL. IV. G 
 
82 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 with a knock to give signal within, he pushed it 
 open and at once entered. Villiers was at break- 
 fast, and, surprized at his appearance, rose abruptly 
 to welcome him ; but his looks were so altered that 
 he forgot his intention and received him with a so- 
 lemnity that was impressive. 
 
 " You are much changed ;" said he, "I trust it 
 is nothing of the mind that affects you." 
 
 Troven took hold of his hand and said, with a 
 smile that made his words emphatic. 
 
 " It is of the mind: strange things have come 
 to pass since we parted, and I am here to ask your 
 advice." 
 
 Villiers made no reply ; but pointing to a chair, 
 requested Troven to be seated, and invited him to 
 partake of his breakfast. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 83 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 OUR hero related all the incidents of his excursion 
 with a degree of calmness honorable to his self- 
 possession ; when, however, he described the read- 
 ing of the will, a slight degree of emotion was dis- 
 cernible in his voice. At the conclusion he said 
 abruptly, " What am I to do ?" 
 
 Villiers made no answer for some time ; he sat 
 evidently ruminating, much distressed ; and at last 
 enquired whether he wanted a legal opinion or 
 a moral one; " for," said he, "what is legally 
 right may be morally wrong, and I do not feel 
 myself very well qualified to be your counsellor in 
 this matter." 
 
 "I do not ask you," said Troven, "professionally; 
 but I am friendless, and I know not whose advice I 
 should follow ; of this I am certain, that whether Mr. 
 Ezra Pearl did act rightly or wrongly, he knows now 
 that he deserves from me no forbearance, because he 
 not only endeavoured to deprive me of my fortune, 
 but also to blight my character : the one cannot be 
 withheld in the case between us, without the other 
 becoming tainted." 
 
 G 2 
 
84 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 Villiers took no notice of this, but enquired 
 what sort of person Mrs. Servit was. 
 
 Troven gave a true sketch of her history, her 
 character, and her honesty. 
 
 " Very well;" replied Villiers, "and you believe 
 that she was incapable both from principle and abi- 
 lity of forging the codicil ?" 
 
 " I do !" said Troven a little more than firmly, 
 because the question implied a doubt of her inte- 
 grity, of which, never in many years had she given 
 him reason to entertain any." 
 
 " This is a bad business," said Villiers, " but do 
 not let it vex you too much. On the law of the case 
 trust not to me ; choose one better informed ; but I 
 c.an give you advice that may be adopted as to the 
 moral." 
 
 Our hero said that his poverty did not allow him 
 to enter the lists of a law-suit ; moreover, Mr. Ezra 
 Paul had a priori, a better right to the inherit- 
 ance. 
 
 " So says the law, I believe," said Villiers, " but 
 I think otherwise ; your old friend went into the 
 world pennyless, he had inherited nothing, and all 
 he ultimately possessed grew from himself, and was 
 righteously his own. This attorney, who has marred 
 for the present his kind intentions, he knew not, as 
 you have told me, till his return; it, therefore, 
 seems very clear to me, that no obligation existed 
 or was implied, that he should leave him any part 
 of his fortune : that, I believe, is a fair moral esti- 
 mate of the case ; therefore, give yourself no unea- 
 siness about it, but consider how you can best 
 wrestle with the law." 
 
 " How can I ?" cried Troven. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 85 
 
 " I cannot well advise you on that score," said 
 Villiers, " but it is very clear that a little art is 
 wanted to effectually resist a great deal, and that 
 you must practise." 
 
 " How ! if Mr. Ezra Pearl act fraudulently, is it 
 any warranty for me to do the same ?" 
 
 " No, certainly," replied his companion ; " but I 
 would have you appear in this business more as a 
 man of the world than you seem at present dis- 
 posed from your temperament to be." 
 
 ' '" Tell me," said Troven, " all you would advise, 
 and I shall be the better able to say how I can 
 follow your advice." 
 
 " Well, then," cried Villiers, " I will do so, and 
 trust that you will listen to me patiently. No ob- 
 jection, as you have said, was made to any of the 
 provisions of the will, till Mrs. Servit disclosed the 
 unexpected codicil." 
 
 " Even so," said Troven ; " and she was only led 
 to speak of it by an assurance received from the old 
 man himself, that the important clause in my favor 
 had been omitted in the document." 
 
 " This is something," said Villiers. " What I think 
 you are called upon by justice to do is this : pro- 
 pose to Mr. Ezra Pearl that all the legacies should 
 be settled, and the authenticity of the codicil made 
 the only question ; he will then stand precisely after 
 this settlement as he does now." 
 
 " I would do it gladly," said Troven, " but will 
 he?" 
 
 "I think he will," replied Villiers, solemnly. 
 "The legacies must be settled in that way, whatever 
 becomes of the codicil ; and depend upon it, I have 
 not read the volume of the human heart with pro- 
 
86 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 per judgment if he do not, for, by so doing, he 
 will bespeak golden opinions of all sorts of men ; 
 and he is not one, who, from your description, 
 does not know the value of a good opinion. Do 
 this, and when you have received your answer I 
 shall be in a condition to give you more advice, 
 but, mind, I do not offer it as sound law." 
 
 The same day our hero made the proposition to 
 Mr. Ezra Pearl, every word of his letter was weigh- 
 ed and well chosen, and when it was finished he 
 submitted the draft to Villiers, who greatly ap- 
 plauded the temper and style. 
 
 In the meantime the attorney was exceedingly 
 busy : he knew something of the pecuniary stake 
 at issue in the game he was playing, and he had 
 also heard that swift-winged rumours were spread 
 abroad, and babbled of his character. On receipt 
 of the letter he was greatly surprised, and swallow- 
 ed with avidity the bait which was thrown to him ; 
 he perceived at once all the advantages of com- 
 pliance which Mr. Villiers apprehended, and by 
 the return of the post he wrote a " Dear Sir" an- 
 swer, assenting with frankness to what was pro- 
 posed. 
 
 Troven was surprised that Villiers had so well 
 guessed the result, and carried to him the answer, 
 requesting his further advice. That shrewd man 
 read it carefully over, and smiled sardonically at 
 the warmth of the expression ; he then folded it 
 carefully up, and returned it, saying drily 
 
 " Now, by this post you will inform this de- 
 ceitful man how much his ready acquiescence has 
 given you pleasure, and advise him that you have 
 drawn this day, this very day, for your legacy." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 87 
 
 "I am in your hands," said our hero, " and 
 will implicitly follow your advice." 
 
 He accordingly drew the bill, wrote as he had 
 been prompted, and in two days more he was in 
 possession of his legacy, with which in his hand, 
 he waited again on Villiers. 
 
 " This," said the man of experience, " has been 
 brought about in a very satisfactory manner ; but 
 wait till you have heard that the other bequests are 
 equally as well settled, then come to me again and 
 we shall see what is to be done." 
 
 Mr. Ezra Pearl was an active man of business, 
 and did not allow the grass to grow beneath his 
 tread ; the other legacies were soon paid off, and 
 Mrs. Servit's annuity formally recognized ; nor 
 was it in this stage of the business possible to give 
 the indefatigable attorney ought but unqualified 
 praise. 
 
 As soon as it was ascertained that the will which 
 he had drawn was punctually carried into effect, 
 and nought remained with him but to prove the 
 forgery of the codicil, Troven called on Villiers. 
 
 " All goes well, and as I would wish," said Vil- 
 liers ; " you are now master of a sum of money ; 
 it will enable you to pay a solicitor and counsel ; 
 go to the best you know, tell them your case, and 
 resolve to challenge to the uttermost this Ezra 
 Pearl." 
 
 " Can I do that?" cried Troven " can I fight 
 him with his own money ?" 
 
 " My young friend," replied his companion, 
 " you labour under a mistake ; it is not his money 
 you have received, it is a part of Mr. Pearl's for- 
 tune, to which no one ever made any objection to 
 
88 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 pay you ; it is your own money, and respecting it, 
 now that it is in your possession, you require no 
 advice. Do as I bid you, and*prove if you can, the 
 authenticity of the codicil." 
 
 " Had you told me," said Troven, " all this pro- 
 cess at once, I might not have followed your ad- 
 vice ; but I acknowledge its wisdom, and yet, to 
 confess the truth, I am not very well satisfied with 
 what I have done." 
 
 " Is any man wronged by what you have done ?" 
 
 " No," replied Troven, " and what I have re- 
 ceived was my own, whether he can prove the for- 
 gery or not." 
 
 " Then trouble yourself no more about it. Had 
 there been any thing of wrong or guilt in what you 
 have done, your own breast, my young friend, 
 would be the first to upbraid you ; be content, 
 you have only made yourself master of the vantage- 
 ground, and if your measures are well directed, if 
 your assurances are to be credited, you cannot 
 miss your aim." 
 
 In this manner Troven, by the advice of Villiers, 
 was raised into a condition to contend for his right : 
 in the end his right to be acknowledged as the 
 residuary legatee was confirmed with the usual ex- 
 pedition for which a chancery suit is so celebrated, 
 and, therefore, that we may not have occasion 
 again to speak on the subject, he died in old age, 
 and about twenty years after his decease his heirs 
 became invested in the rights which belonged to 
 him. 
 
 In the mean time his condition was not im- 
 proved. While keeping terms, he applied his 
 legacy in prosecuting his suit, and maintained him- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 89 
 
 self, like many other students, by his literary con- 
 tributions to the periodicals : but in this pursuit 
 his friend Villiers acknowledged himself incapable 
 of affording him equal efficient advice. " The 
 author of what I have written," said he, " is un- 
 known, and so shall remain ; for hitherto I have 
 withstood the calls of vanity to reveal myself, and 
 laboured not for fame, but bread. My hopes of 
 this world are done ; year after year those that 
 were my friends became rarer ; the aspect of things 
 is no longer the same that I worshipped in youth ; 
 I merely endure to live, because I do not yet know 
 the purpose for which I am here. In my dreams I 
 thought myself destined for a bright career ; but 
 every effort has been ineffectual, and I am weary 
 of disappointments which must end as they began." 
 Troven heard this lamentation with regret ; but 
 what could he say to make a faded man cherish 
 gayer hopes. He returned very sad in conse- 
 quence to his own chambers, where, as he sat ru- 
 minating some time, the disconsolate words still 
 ringing in his ears, he recollected that one of his 
 publishers had apprised him that a tale or essay 
 was expected from his pen. He had prepared him- 
 self with no theme : in the transaction which we 
 have recorded, his attention was too much engaged 
 to afford him leisure for his wonted studies ; but 
 time pressed, and his ruminations were disturbed 
 by the entrance of a sharp boy, bearing a note 
 from his publisher, written on an uncomely piece 
 of paper, reminding him that he could wait no 
 longer. Troven, with his usual confidence in him- 
 self, requested the little messenger to call again in 
 the morning as early as he pleased, and the paper 
 
90 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 would be ready. The boy however said, that he 
 was ordered to get it that night. " But you can- 
 not/' said Troven, " so go away and go to bed, that 
 you may be the earlier here to take it from me in 
 the morning/' This was enough ; the boy turned, 
 and drawing the door behind him, thoughtlessly 
 whistled as he descended the stair. 
 
 This incident, seemingly so trivial, had a deeper 
 effect on our hero than we shall attempt to de- 
 scribe. He had just parted from Villiers, whose 
 talents and sagacity seemed to grow greater as 
 they were better known ; and the circumstances 
 with which he longed to be at rest, afforded such a 
 contrast to the cheerfulness of the light-hearted 
 boy, that they produced a current of thought at 
 once pleasing and sorrowful. The bookseller's note 
 was lying on the table, and to fulfil his promise, 
 he drew his writing materials towards him, repeat- 
 ing as he placed them in order, a part of the ex- 
 ordium to the Castle of Indolence, as he prepared 
 to write the story subjoined. 
 
 Oh, mortal man, thatliveth here by toil, 
 Do not complain of this th y hard estate : 
 That like an emmet thou must ever moil, 
 Is a sore sentence of an ancient date, 
 And certes there is for it reason great. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 91 
 
 THE DREAM. 
 
 AMIDST the mountains of the " north countrie"* is 
 an extensive blue lake, on which, at noon, no shadow 
 can be traced ; the hills and uplands, by which it 
 is surrounded, all present their brightest sides to 
 its beautiful waters, and, for upwards of an hour, 
 it then appears as a mirror on which the sun shines 
 with peculiar lustre. 
 
 The streams, which rush into this crystalline 
 basin, are clear, cool and picturesque ; several, 
 on account of their romantic features, are visited 
 by young travellers, and persons accustomed to 
 indulge in the reveries of imagination ; but there 
 is one sylvan rivulet more deserving of attention 
 than them all, and which, from its quiet flow and 
 sequestered course, is seldom noticed. From a 
 remote rock leaps in it a south running spring, 
 which, from that circumstance, is much frequented 
 on Hallow-eve by the swains and maidens who dwell 
 in the neighbourhood, repairing to its banks to per- 
 form their divinations. 
 
 * See Beattie's Minstrel. 
 
92 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 The effusion from this natural fountain is mi- 
 neral and tepid : it sends a slight aromatic fragrance, 
 and possesses the power of producing sleep, in 
 which the dreams are wonderfully consistent with 
 themselves and delightful in their incidents ; but 
 it is thought to have some intoxicating quality, 
 and, in consequence, is but seldom tasted. 
 
 One summer's day a shepherd boy, belonging 
 to the adjacent hills, had strayed into the glen in 
 which this forbidden water descends. He was, in 
 many respects, a singular stripling, and had a 
 strange pleasure in lone places, and where, in an- 
 cient times, poets would have seen nymphs and 
 fauns pursuing their innocent gaieties. His father, 
 a village schoolmaster, had given him the romantic 
 name of Driades, and delighted in filling his fancy 
 with recitals of courtly pageants and fantastical 
 adventures. Thus, without endeavour on the 
 boy's part, he was unlike the other lads of the 
 village, and yet withal, more gentle, good, and 
 simple, than any of the other boys that might 
 have been his companions. 
 
 Driades, finding himself alone in the green 
 hollow where the spring gushed odoriferously from 
 the rock, sat himself down. He had never been 
 there before, and the leaves of the birch and hazel 
 shed into the sultry air their sweetest perfume. 
 On all sides rocks and cliffs and feathery trees 
 hung above him, and no sound molested the calm 
 that breathed there but the falling waters and the 
 occasional call of the merle to her mate. It was 
 a warm and soft day, and all around were images 
 of peace and rest. Confidence was vocal in the 
 bowers, and the genius of the place whispered 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 93 
 
 tranquillity to the blameless and unguarded Dria- 
 des. 
 
 Overpowered by his previous journey and the 
 warmth of the day, he approached the enticing 
 waters. He had never heard of their qualities, 
 and, allured by their brightness, drank of them 
 freely : surprised at tasting them tepid, and yet 
 leaping from the rock, he renewed his draught to 
 assure his palate that he was not mistaken. In 
 doing this he discovered their faint and delicious 
 odour, and tasted again and again, until he had 
 inadvertently indulged in a more copious draught 
 than those acquainted with the spring would have 
 ventured to take. 
 
 In the course of a few minutes the intoxicating 
 influence of the waters began to prevail, and he 
 stretched himself upon the green sward and sur- 
 rendered his senses to sleep. The day, the place, 
 and the thoughtlessness of Driades were propitious 
 to his slumber, and he continued, for several hours, 
 in unmolested repose ; but late in the afternoon, 
 near the time that the sun was setting, a stranger, 
 who had taken up his abode for a short time on 
 the banks of the lake, happened to explore the un- 
 trodden margin of the rill into which the medi- 
 cinal water was flowing. Seeing the entranced 
 youth lying in defenceless sleep in the sylvan dells, 
 he went towards him and awakened him. 
 
 Driades, in rising from his couch, stretched 
 out his arms, and, yawning with pleasure, re- 
 proached the stranger mildly for disturbing a dream, 
 the pleasantest he had ever enjoyed. 
 
 Surprised by the look and expression of the boy, 
 the stranger paused beside him, and enquired of 
 
94 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 what his dream had consisted. After a short ex- 
 planation they seated themselves together on the 
 embroidered turf, and Driades thus related the 
 story of the vision which had so charmed his 
 slumber : 
 
 " I thought myself," said Driades, " in a grand 
 and gorgeous metropolitan city ; all around me 
 were lofty structures and solemn temples, pinna- 
 cles crowned with gold, vast colonnades, stairs 
 and sculptured palaces, triumphal arches and 
 surpassing domes. I beheld objects of wealth 
 and dominion, and on every side I heard the 
 buzz of a great multitude, and saw chariots and 
 horsemen and nobles in all the pomp of honours, 
 antiquity, and power. Presently, from a stupen- 
 dous portico, heralds and trumpeters issued forth, 
 and, with a flourish, announced the great king : all 
 the crowd of spectators knelt at the sound, and in 
 due time, I beheld, after a retinue of officers clothed 
 with oriental splendour, the monarch, borne on a 
 golden throne, into the midst of them. Of the ce- 
 remonies that were then performed, and the de- 
 crees he issued, I cannot speak ; but the plaudits 
 which his wisdom received were loud and long, 
 and he was hailed by the vast multitude that filled 
 the spacious courts of the palace with demonstra- 
 tions of praise and joy. 
 
 " When this resplendent scene had lasted some 
 time, the king retired into his interior halls ; his 
 attendants followed, and the crowd dispersed. All 
 went away, and I was left alone ; but at last I too 
 moved from my situation, and began to examine 
 more in detail the edificial grandeur of that Baby- 
 lonian town : wherever I turned, my sight was per- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 95 
 
 plexed with new wonders ; pleasure sparkled in 
 every visage, and methought the New Jerusalem 
 could present no superior splendour and happi- 
 ness. 
 
 " But I was alone : in all the tides of that mul- 
 titude I saw no friend ; I heard no congratulations, 
 I was sad, I knew not for what ; I wandered along, 
 a lonely and destitute boy. 
 
 " For a time my disconsolate feelings were pain- 
 fully awake ; I desired to participate in the revels 
 that rung around me, and I longed to share the 
 feats and renown of those that the king delighted 
 to honour. 
 
 " While I was standing in this state, a venera- 
 ble old man addressed me ; his locks were of a 
 snowy whiteness bound with a golden fillet, and 
 his loose dark brown robes, though in colour and 
 form betokening simplicity and riches, showed that 
 he was no common man. 
 
 " He enquired from what part of the mountains 
 I had arrived what I knew, and my objects in 
 visiting the metropolis. 
 
 " I replied to his questions with humility and 
 candour. I told how my youth had been spent, and 
 how I had strayed into that wonderful city, nor did 
 I conceal from him my friendlessness and the fears 
 which weighed upon my heart. 
 
 "Pleased with my replies and interested in my 
 forlorn situation, he invited me to follow him to 
 his house, and promised me a refuge among his 
 servants. 
 
 " I obeyed this benevolent old man, and followed 
 him to his dwelling. It was a noble building, con- 
 structed of the richest materials and in a manner 
 
96 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 that showed the taste and the opulence of the pos- 
 sessor. At the magnificent portal he committed 
 me to the care of his steward, a person whose ap- 
 pearance was calculated to ensure esteem, and I 
 was soon after enrolled among the number of his 
 household. 
 
 " Delighted to have found, so early, a patron so 
 estimable, I strove to attract in my servitude, the 
 notice of the steward, nor was I in this ineffectual. 
 He saw my industry, he praised my intelligence, 
 and my heart beat with happiness without pride. 
 
 " In the course of a short time after this fortu- 
 nate overture, one of the principal servants of the 
 establishment happened to die, and the steward, 
 notwithstanding my youth, spoke to his venerable 
 master in my behalf, and recommended me as a 
 fit person to be the successor of the dead. I was 
 accordingly promoted, and the increase of the 
 cares of my trust made me more ardent in my de- 
 sire to give satisfaction. Every thing prospered 
 with me ; the steward exulted in having recom- 
 mended me, our master was content with my ef- 
 forts, and I was untired myself in my solicitude to 
 merit attention. 
 
 " I had not been long in the enjoyment of this 
 felicity when another vacancy occurred in the 
 household by the death of a clerk who was em- 
 ployed in the land office of our master. It had 
 been observed that, during the intervals of my 
 particular vocation, I had engaged myself in arith- 
 metical studies, which the good-natured steward 
 had observed, and had told his master that I be- 
 longed to another class than the menial order to 
 which I was consigned. The old man acknow- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 97 
 
 ledged that he had himself noticed me, and said, 
 if the steward deemed me fit for the clerkship, he 
 had his full consent to remove me into the office. 
 
 " This was an era in my existence : I was raised 
 from servility to an honourable station, in which 
 there was no limit to the elevation I might obtain ; 
 instead, therefore, of giving my leisure, like the 
 other young men, to revelry and ease, I redoubled 
 my industry. Every moment was precious, and 
 every hour, when I might have been idle, was 
 spent in the attainment of some new accomplish- 
 ment. The steward deemed his duty well per- 
 formed in facilitating my rise, and our master was 
 pleased often to converse with me, and to show 
 the preference which my assiduity had inspired. 
 Thus, step by step, I was promoted in that house- 
 hold, and, perhaps, might have reached to great 
 eminence ; but it was thought my merits were 
 so superior that my services should be devoted to 
 the king : accordingly, one day our excellent mas- 
 ter spoke to me on the subject, and enquired how 
 I would like the service of the state. So great an 
 honour I had never dreamt of ; but I replied that, 
 in whatever situation it should please heaven to 
 place me, I would endeavour to do my duty, as the 
 best means in my possession, to prove my grati- 
 tude to my friends. 
 
 " The old man was pleased with my answer, and 
 procured me, in the course of the same day, em- 
 ployment with the ministers of the crown. 
 
 " In a few years my success surprised myself. I 
 was not only promoted by the routine of accidents, 
 but chosen for merit ; and I rose in time to fill an 
 office of important trust. 
 
 VOL. IV. H 
 
98 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 " In this situation, honoured by the king and es- 
 teemed by his subjects, I gathered wealth and 
 found myself in the ranks of those who wear the 
 decorations of renown. 
 
 16 At this juncture a great calamity overtook 
 my old master, a fearful inundation ravaged his 
 lands, his cattle perished in the deluge, and his 
 vines, fig-trees and olives, were swept away. In 
 the midst of this desolation I beheld the misery to 
 which he was reduced ; my heart yearned with the 
 remembrance of his kindness, and I mourned to 
 think that one, who had been accustomed to such 
 opulence, should, in his old age, be so exposed to 
 the stings of poverty. I called also to mind, with 
 a softer sentiment, that he had an only child 
 a daughter who must share his distress ; and the 
 fortune I had made by this time was sufficient 
 to mitigate the pangs of their unmerited loss. 
 
 " I went to him, and said that all I possessed 
 he was welcome to, and, to prove the sincerity of 
 my offer, I proposed to wed his daughter. He 
 made no answer, but went into the apartment 
 where she was sitting, and repeated what I had 
 said ; tears rushed into her eyes, and she came at 
 once to me with outstretched hands, and became my 
 wife. 
 
 " In the course of time the old man died, and 
 she was the inheritrix of all his vast domains, 
 which more propitious seasons began to renovate. 
 With her I had many children, our daughters, good 
 and fair, were selected for wives by the primates 
 of the land ; and our seven sons maintained the 
 character which their father had earned with the 
 public. All around was green and fertile ; ho- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 99 
 
 nours were at my acceptance ; abundance poured 
 
 her horn at my feet; and But you awoke 
 
 me at this moment." 
 
 " Ah !" said the stranger, " yours, Driades, 
 has been a common dream : youth is beguiled by 
 many such fancies ; after a long life, such as you 
 have described, he awakes to his real condition, 
 and finds that all which he deemed so bright and 
 fair was but a vision." 
 
 H 2 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 PAUT II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TROVEN, as he said, experienced in his life no very 
 striking adventures, and yet to most men it would 
 have been extraordinary. It is, however, we 
 apprehend, a common thing with those who pass 
 through surprising accidents greatly to under-rate 
 them. 
 
 After the death of Mr. Pearl, who intended to 
 act towards him so kindly, he felt his means 
 quickly circumscribed, nor was it long until they 
 were entirely dried up ; for although his energies 
 were none impaired, and his knowledge fresh and 
 unexhausted, his booksellers began to let him un- 
 derstand that he had written or wrote too much. 
 For some time this intelligence depressed the elas- 
 ticity of his spirit ; it even weighed upon the efforts 
 of his genius, and sorrow produced the same effect 
 as if he was, like Samson, shorn of his locks and 
 subjected to derision. 
 
 His friend Villiers was out of town when this 
 H 3 
 
102 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 happened, and no other in whom he had equal 
 confidence was near indeed, in no other had he 
 equal confidence and he was not expected to re- 
 turn for some time. 
 
 It would not be easy to describe what Troven ex- 
 perienced . H is money was expended ; his best friend 
 and patron long dead ; himself involved in an ex- 
 pensive lawsuit, of which the issue was doubtful ; 
 his literary labours no longer a resource on which 
 he could rely, and all his circumstances were full 
 of trouble, darkened with dismay, and far beyond 
 the reach of any hope that he could throw out. 
 Like the mariner whose bark has been driven upon 
 a lea and rocky shore, he saw before him but in- 
 evitable destruction. To remain as he was ensured 
 an equal fate ; to attempt a landing was to plunge 
 into desperation, and the cliffs over which the salt 
 sea-spray was tremendously dashing, no boat, nor 
 raft, nor spar, nor plank, could reach in safety, or 
 if reached, the impetuous waves rolled with a rage 
 that nothing could withstand, and in which every 
 thing must perish. 
 
 On the evening of that day he was sitting alone 
 in his chambers, meditating in his utmost need on 
 whom of all he knew he could apply to for assist- 
 ance ; but there was not one. 
 
 His last candle was burned to the socket ; he had 
 not means enough to renew the light ; his fire was 
 low and lugubrious; the flame that cheered the 
 hearth had departed, and the embers, red and lurid, 
 were smouldering away into cold and darkness ; 
 slight shadows waned on the walls of the room, 
 but his bosom was more dismal. 
 
 As he was leaning forward with his feet on the 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 103 
 
 fender, ruminating on his forlorn condition and his 
 cheerless prospects, a soft tapping was heard at 
 the door, and he rose from his inclined posture to 
 enquire who was the stranger. Much to his sur- 
 prise, his old friend, Mrs. Servit, was there, who 
 knew his voice in the dark, and loudly expressed 
 her joy at finding him at home. 
 
 She came forward unbidden, and seating herself 
 in a chair near the half-extinguished fire, without 
 hearing what he had to say, began to tell him of 
 the disappointment she had suffered in Scotland, 
 when she returned to her native place. 
 
 " Oh," said she, " Mr. Edward, alteration has 
 been busy yonder ; none are now alive that I cared 
 for, and all the living are strangers to me. I tholed 
 with them as long as I could, but, alas ! yon is not 
 the land that I left. The summers have less heat, 
 and the winters are colder ; they have no more the 
 bright and jocund days that I knew in auld lang 
 syne. So I have come to spend the lees of life 
 where I am better known, and before doing so I 
 could not but first and foremost see you ; but this 
 is a coldrife fire ; get me a candle, and let us have 
 a comfortable cup of tea, and I'll tell you all 
 about it." 
 
 To repair the fire was beyond our hero's means ; 
 to procure a candle was equally impossible ; and 
 his tea was no more. At first he began to tell her, 
 grateful and amazed that so kind a friend should 
 have been sent to him at that extremity ; but his 
 tongue faltered, and he suddenly burst into a laugh 
 so wild, so loud, so, in its rattle, unearthly, that in 
 alarm Mrs. Servit started from her seat, and ex- 
 claimed 
 
 H4 
 
104 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 " In the name of all that's good, is he a bed- 
 lamite ?" 
 
 And overtaken by the flood of her heart, she 
 wept, unable to restrain her grief, sorrowful she 
 knew not wherefore. 
 
 This led to an unavoidable pause, which enabled 
 her to control her sudden affliction, and Troven to 
 recover the mastery of himself; when he frankly 
 told her she had come to him in the very crisis 
 when fortune had fled. In a word, he confessed 
 his friendless and pennyless condition. 
 
 " Be thankful," replied she, " that for this night 
 you have a roof to shelter you, and that I have 
 been sent to quench your present suffering. It 
 often flitted across my brain, after I heard of Ezra 
 Pearl's knavery, that ye might be in scant and 
 want, while I had a good income to share with 
 you. That was the cause of my coming the night 
 here. Had I found you blithe and bien I would 
 have said nothing ; but to find you reduced to the 
 selvage, is in its way a special blessing, and from 
 this hour we shall never part, till I have seen you 
 round the corner of your difficulties, and flourish- 
 ing on the other side, like 
 
 ' A green bay tree, 
 
 Near planted by a river, 
 
 Which in the season yieldeth fruit, 
 
 And its leaf fadeth never.' " 
 
 When the good lady had made an end, her do- 
 mestic indefatigability returned, and she lost no 
 time in supplying the desiderata so much wanted. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Edward," she added, " you must 
 allow me to take an authority in your house. Oh, 
 well-a-day ! little did them that's away think of 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 105 
 
 the blackness of this hour you must not be 
 
 molested with my freedom heigh ho ! When I 
 first took you in my arms, ye were a wee, wee 
 baby ; but he who brought you up as his own is 
 now away, and what he thought would make a 
 man of you, is swallowed up in that nook, at the 
 mouth of a place that I will not name, called the 
 Court of Chancery." 
 
 By this time the laundress had come to receive 
 her mandates for the evening and the morning, 
 which Mrs. Servit took it upon her to give, telling 
 her to be sure and have a pot of cream for break- 
 fast, for she understood, unless she gave a par- 
 ticular order, she was credibly informed, that 
 the Londoners would serve them with chalk and 
 water. She then sat down while the laundress 
 got the tea-things ready, and said, that she would 
 stay for that night at the White Horse in Fetter- 
 lane, adding, " And Mr. Edward, you will not be 
 surprised to hear that I have taken a lodging in 
 London, and from this town move will I not, till I 
 have seen an end of your dolorosity." 
 
 " In truth," said he, remembering her kindness 
 of old, with a glowing and affectionate heart, and 
 something also of her bustling character, " I have 
 too long experienced your motherliness to offer 
 any objection to your will ; do as you please, and 
 you will give me only pleasure ; but I should have 
 thought that a country life was but an ill prepara- 
 tion for a residence in town." 
 
 66 You may say so," said she ; " but all the 
 world is alike to me, after the disappointment that 
 I have suffered by going back to Scotland. There 
 I found every thing changed. The very house of 
 
106 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 God was pulled down that I well mind I used to 
 go to with my granny, and a new big and gawky 
 edifice built in its place. No, Mr. Edward, I have 
 seen enough to keep me in London." And in say- 
 ing these words her heart filled full, and she ex- 
 claimed with tears in her eyes, " I am, in a sense, 
 almost as friendless as yourself." 
 
 Very little more passed with our hero : he had 
 found himself on the edge of a precipice, and still 
 trembled when he thought of the danger from 
 which he had been so unexpectedly rescued, by 
 one to whom of all living he was most attached. 
 
 His immediate wants were relieved, but he ex- 
 pressed his apprehensions that he would be a bur- 
 then where he had hoped soon to be a friend. Mrs. 
 Servit was, however, peremptory : she would not 
 permit him to think so ; on the contrary, with the 
 feeling and spirit of true kindness, she enlarged 
 on the obligations he had laid her under for the 
 annuity she had inherited from Mr. Pearl ; and 
 with characteristic warmth said, with a sentiment 
 of visible pleasure, that she would do with her 
 own as she liked. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 107 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TRIVIAL as the event may seem to many readers, 
 the arrival of Mrs. Servit in London at the junc- 
 ture mentioned, was important. Our hero stood 
 on the edge and extremity of his circumstances ; his 
 resources had all run dry, and he could perceive 
 nothing but immediate ruin. In a very short time 
 it would have been necessary, for mere existence, 
 to have submitted to the mortification of pledging 
 his clothes and valuables, and, when these were 
 gone, he had no friend to whom he could apply. 
 
 That his thoughts in consequence were gloomy, 
 need not be described ; but it would be doing his 
 fortitude injustice to say that he felt them with 
 more dismay than became a man who had confi- 
 dence in his fortune, or, that he estimated below its 
 worth, the incident of finding such a friend in such 
 an extremity as he had reason to believe Mrs. Servit 
 to be. His situation, indeed, deserved sympathy, 
 for he had not before him any chance of recovering 
 from the mendicant situation with which he was 
 threatened ; and, perhaps, there is not in all the 
 calamities of life, a more affecting spectacle than 
 
108 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 that of a young man who sees himself exposed to 
 sink in the world, when life, ability, and hope, war- 
 rant him to cherish more lofty expectations. 
 
 But the arrival of Mrs. Servit, dictated by affec- 
 tion, had its full influence in dissipating his fears ; 
 there was, it is true, nothing in the event which 
 greatly changed his lot, for, however kind her in- 
 tentions, her income was small, and she had it not 
 in her power very essentially to serve him ; still her 
 residence at hand cheered his situation, and pre- 
 vented him from suffering that desolate feeling 
 which had begun to intrude, like the dry-rot, into 
 the very core of his heart. 
 
 Not more than half his terms were at this time 
 ate through, and he beheld before him a long dreary 
 vista of difficulties between him and those sunny 
 fields, where a conscious strength of talent flattered 
 him with the dream of distinction. The utmost 
 economy was resolved upon, not as a matter of 
 choice but of necessity, for he saw that by attend- 
 ing to it he must forego the acquaintanceship he 
 had formed with various characters whom he 
 thought likely to promote his professional views. 
 
 But an event at this time occurred in the general 
 world, which tended to soften the asperities with 
 which he was surrounded. 
 
 Public taste, which had hitherto preferred essays 
 of research and learning, took a sudden turn ; 
 works of imagination and general disquisition suc- 
 ceeded in popularity graver topics. This change 
 was advantageous to Troven ; it suited better his 
 talent and the bent of his mind, but his natural 
 pride prevented him from reaping all the benefits 
 to which it was contributary. He had, from an in- 
 
THE STOLEN" CHILD. 109 
 
 nate sensibility, a dislike to making bargains for 
 himself, and the different publishers by whom he 
 was engaged to write, had shrewdness enough to 
 see this weakness and to make their own terms. 
 Thus, while the world revelled on the fruits of his 
 genius, and the publishers exulted in their profits, 
 he derived comparatively but little advantage from 
 his productions ; that little to his rigid system 
 of saving, was of great importance. It enabled 
 him to retain his caste with society, and to appear 
 unblemished in his garments : the last sign that 
 betrays the mutation of an altered fortune. 
 
 In this corrosive predicament he occasionally met 
 with adventures ; some of them were light and gay, 
 and furnished him with many a cheerful hour that 
 would have passed darkly ; others were of a dif- 
 ferent kind, and drew largely on his compassion 
 for those who are made to suffer the ails that flesh 
 is heir to ; but none led him to so curious a view 
 of human nature as a species of profitable employ- 
 ment in which he was sometimes engaged. 
 
 Men of rank and fortune find themselves some- 
 times constrained by fate to publish pamphlets ; 
 but, unfortunately, fate, which gives the impulse, 
 gives not with it ability sufficient to make the book 
 deserving attention. The booksellers see this, but 
 an intercourse with literary characters teaches a 
 distinct lesson, and in cases such as we allude to, 
 authors come often to request the advice of 
 such men as our hero. For their assistance the 
 parties in general pay well, particularly for com- 
 piling books of travels. Many are those who 
 carry a high and flourishing head with their names 
 on the title-pages of volumes, who have had no more 
 
110 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 to say in their fabrication than they have to the 
 workmanship of their own clothes. It is true that 
 some to whom their calibre is known, express 
 themselves surprised that they were capable of 
 putting things together so well ; but, innocent 
 souls ! they know not the devices of vanity, nor 
 the tricks that Satan or the world plays with rich 
 incapables. 
 
 Although this sort of trade often moved the 
 spleen and indignation of Troven, even while he 
 was obliged to have recourse to it to eke out his 
 narrow livelihood, it led him into interesting ad- 
 ventures ; for it was known to the publishers that 
 he was available to this sort of business, and they, 
 in consequence, consulted him respecting the 
 merits of books offered by unknown authors. 
 
 On one occasion they sent a lady with a volume 
 which they thought above par ; but the fair au- 
 thor wanted an immediate payment for the manu- 
 script, and that mode of doing business did not 
 suit them. The work, however, appeared to have 
 merit, and if he, upon looking it over carefully, 
 would recommend them to give a small sum for 
 the manuscript, perhaps they would deal with 
 her. 
 
 Mrs. Halden, as we shall call her, to conceal a 
 meritorious woman from the prying inquisition of 
 the world, brought this letter with the manuscript 
 to him one morning while he was yet at break- 
 fast. 
 
 Her appearance bespoke a widow ; she was 
 about the middle of life, and her husband had 
 been an officer. Something in her air and manner 
 announced that her best days had gone by, yet 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. Ill 
 
 still she was fashionably dressed, though her clothes 
 were faded from their propriety. Her appear- 
 ance, while Troven read the note, was impressive, 
 and her silence and attitude indicated how much 
 store she set by the manuscript. He could not 
 possibly mistake these signs of an early and fa- 
 vourable decision being important. He, therefore, 
 requested her to call the day after the next, when 
 he would have formed some opinion of the book, 
 and regretted that he could not give her an earlier 
 answer. 
 
 With unchanging good breeding she rose and 
 bade him good morning ; but, in turning round 
 to the door of his chamber, he accidentally per- 
 ceived that, beneath her garments, she was lite- 
 rally clothed in rags. He took no notice of this, 
 however, but added, as on second thoughts, that if 
 she would call next day he would try if it was 
 possible then to give her an answer. The poor 
 woman, unable to speak, turned round, and looked 
 at him for a moment, and, giving a deep sigh, has- 
 tily withdrew. 
 
 An incident of this kind could not but make a 
 deep impression. As soon as his chambers were 
 put in order he began to read the book, equally 
 surprised at the pathos and elegance with which 
 it was written : no work of greater taste had been 
 ever before submitted to him, and he read on with 
 delight and satisfaction. As he read, he frequently 
 said to himself, that it was just such a work as the 
 lady he had seen was likely to have produced ; 
 altogether, the book and the author were in strange 
 unison. Pleased to have discerned this resem- 
 
112 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 blance, and also that her production was superior 
 to most things of the kind, he continued to read 
 unremittingly, and, by dinner time, had carefully 
 perused all the manuscript. 
 
 With a knowledge of the contents, however, the 
 interest excited did not end ; the rags and the rai- 
 ment, and the sigh and the look of Mrs. Halden, 
 dwelt on his recollection, and bespoke a wish that 
 his opinion might prove useful, nor could he get 
 rid of the impression which her appearance had 
 made. 
 
 He conjectured she was a mother, and the acci- 
 dental sight of her rags convinced him she was in 
 great poverty. Her manners, however, indicated 
 that she had been bred a gentlewoman, and had 
 been habituated to the etiquettes of polished life ; 
 still the sigh rung in his heart, and he wished that 
 he had said at once he would immediately read 
 what she had written, that she might without de- 
 lay make a bargain with the bookseller. 
 
 In this frame of mind he sat down and wrote an 
 answer, that no time might be lost next morning 
 when she again called, but still he was haunted by 
 her sorrowful image and the air of distress which 
 she evidently wore. 
 
 When he had finished his letter he went to din- 
 ner, but in every thing he saw her image ; it was 
 not, however, that omnipresent thing which lovers 
 see, but something more akin to a vision. He 
 was greatly molested and also displeased with 
 himself that he had exchanged so few words 
 with one so accomplished and in such distress ; 
 for he could not conceal from himself that she 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 113 
 
 was in profound affliction ; perhaps his bounty, 
 little as it might be, would have mitigated her 
 suffering but he had forgot to ask for her address 
 and he knew not where to seek for her that night, 
 or to direct the generous Mrs. Servit to seek out 
 her abode to alleviate such misery. 
 
 It is thus that the warm hearted ever experience 
 the pangs of guiltless remorse, as if they had been 
 accessaries to those distresses which in their inat- 
 tention they neglect to allay. 
 
 VOL. iv. 
 
114 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE following day when Mrs. Halden called, Tro- 
 ven, who was anxiously expecting her, had the 
 manuscript and his letter for the booksellers made 
 up. He recommended, in strong terms, her pro- 
 duction, as possessed of great merit, and one that 
 they should not allow to slip through their fingers 
 for a trifle. He would have been more particu- 
 lar, but the author and the work had enlisted his 
 feelings, and he was afraid of saying more than 
 he could justify if the verdict of the public were 
 unfavourable afterwards. 
 
 He was sitting idle, expecting her, and reflecting 
 on her concealed distress and singular talents : 
 wondering to himself how it happened that female 
 writers seldom possessed humour to any great de- 
 gree, while many of them excelled in pathos and 
 delicacy ; but she interrupted his meditations. 
 
 On her entrance he lifted the book and letter, 
 which he almost immediately put into her hands, 
 complimenting her, at the same time, on the 
 taste and genius which her work exhibited. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 116 
 
 " Then you think," replied she, " that it will 
 be accepted ?" 
 
 " It should," said Troven ; " my opinion is very 
 favourable : and," he added, with an inflection of 
 voice, looking, at the same time, very earnestly at 
 her, " I have strongly recommended it." 
 
 Her complexion, as he said this, changed co- 
 lour quickly, and she appeared greatly agitated, 
 exclaiming, in a very touching manner, " God 
 bless you ! the fatherless will pray for you." 
 
 The tone and energy with which this burst of 
 feeling was uttered, convinced him, if he had any 
 doubt, that the price of the manuscript would be 
 to her of eminent importance, but for some time 
 he did not presume to enquire. Her emotion, 
 however, necessarily obliged him to take some no- 
 tice of her empassioned sorrow, for she presently 
 added, "It is all I have :" and the tears which 
 she had hitherto repressed, flowed fast as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " Alas ! madam," said he, " literature is but a 
 precarious resource ; and, unless an author has 
 some other standby, success in it is often but a 
 Will o' the Wisp that leads to poverty." 
 
 " I have no standby," exclaimed Mrs. Halden, 
 " but I had hoped, while I could write, our situ- 
 ation was not desperate." 
 
 " Then you have a family," said Troven, pen- 
 sively. 
 
 " I have that misfortune, if I may dare to say 
 so : alas ! they are too young to be of any use to 
 themselves, and the sense was not given with them 
 to their penniless mother to behold their craving 
 with impunity, what would become of them were 
 
116 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 I dead. If for this I obtain a few pounds, it will 
 enable us to continue our journey to my father's." 
 
 " By that expression," said our hero, " the old 
 gentleman then is still alive." 
 
 She made no answer, but appeared very sor- 
 rowful, saying 
 
 " Yes, sir, and he is at once my only comfort 
 and the cause of my grief: he is a clergyman, the 
 son of another from whom he inherited no fortune. 
 His living is respectable in the north ; but he has 
 had a large family, and his income was too little 
 to bring his children up as we were educated. 
 Without portion I married a young officer, with 
 his consent, who had as little, but the remote 
 prospect of succeeding to a considerable inherit- 
 ance. I went with my husband abroad to a co- 
 lony where his regiment was stationed. He died, 
 and I have returned home with two children. We 
 are in great want, and have been landed in Lon- 
 don, where we have no friend, and are without the 
 means of reaching my poor father's. The hope of 
 raising the means by this is all my confidence in 
 this world ; unless I sell it to day, God only knows 
 what will become of us." 
 
 Troven was much disturbed by her recital: it 
 was given without the slightest endeavour to in- 
 terest him, and seemed in affecting unison with the 
 simplicity that pervaded her volume. He found 
 that he could not carry his questions further, and 
 her tact enabled her to discern that she should no 
 longer stay ; but a momentary pause enabled him 
 to request that, when she had seen the booksellers, 
 to come and let him know. At the same time he 
 thought of Mrs. Servit's kind-heartedness, and re- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 117 
 
 joiced that, although he could not help the sad 
 widow to overcome her difficulties, perhaps he 
 might soften to her the edge of grief. 
 
 Almost immediately after Mrs. Halden went 
 away, promising to return when she had completed 
 her business, and he resumed his daily studies. 
 
 She had not left him long when she returned 
 and told him how greatly she was obliged to him, 
 for that the publishers had, on his recommendation, 
 taken the manuscript and paid her liberally ; but, 
 upon enquiry, he found that their completion of 
 the bargain was only to a moiety of what he had 
 supposed : she was however happy and content, for 
 necessity made her receive a little as a great deal. 
 
 He then gave the address of Mrs. Servit, re- 
 questing her to call at once upon her, assuring her 
 that she would find one who would partake of her 
 sufferings. 
 
 Shortly after this brief interview, the discon- 
 solate lady retired, and he prepared himself to 
 visit Mrs. Servit, to acquaint her with something 
 of Mrs. Halden's story ; but he could not help re- 
 flecting, as he dressed himself, that her case was 
 more distressing than his had been in the crisis of 
 his fortune, and relieved almost as unexpectedly. 
 
 Thoughts of this kind were to him beneficial, 
 and served as a species of education which ge- 
 nerally can only be acquired in society, making 
 his fortitude firmer, without impairing his sensi- 
 bility. But he was soon destined to experience an 
 inconceivable grief. On his arrival at Mrs. Ser- 
 vit's lodgings he told her Mrs. Halden's story ; 
 spoke in the highest terms of her talents, and ex- 
 pressed his conviction of her virtues and truth. 
 
118 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 While he was speaking, she came in considerably 
 before the time she was expected, and her appear- 
 ance betokened the wildness of a grief that had 
 pierced her heart. 
 
 A short conversation ensued, the result of which 
 was inexpressibly painful. Mrs. Halden, soon 
 after leaving his chambers, she had no imagination 
 where, had her pocket cut away. The money re- 
 ceived from the publishers was gone, and she was 
 in a worse condition than before, as the manuscript 
 was sold. 
 
 It happened that, in relating her misfortune, 
 despair took the accent and look of levity, and she 
 spoke of what had befallen her with a degree of 
 wildness which terrified our hero, but which had a 
 very opposite effect on Mrs. Servit, who was led to 
 cbnclude that Mrs. Halden was no other, as she 
 said, than a trooper of London, and was loth to 
 afford her any assistance ; nor was she very diffi- 
 dent in expressing this opinion. The widdw looked 
 on vacancy as she spoke, and our hero sat in silent 
 consternation. There was something about the 
 poor woman that assured him she had told only 
 the truth ; and the purity and excellence of her 
 work were additional evidence that she practised no 
 deception. The prejudices, however, of Mrs. Ser- 
 vit, were all awake and up in arms ; her language 
 was barely civil, and her manners certainly rude ; 
 but Mrs. Halden bore all her inuendos with a sad 
 composure, or rather her mind was so engrossed 
 with her calamity, that she heard not a word of all 
 Mrs. Servit was saying. 
 
 When some time had elapsed, the landlady 
 came into the room : she had been in the city, 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 119 
 
 and, in coming along, had encountered a mob at 
 Newgate, conveying, as she said, a street thief 
 to the prison, on whom, in searching his per- 
 son on account of a recent enterprise, a sum of 
 money had been found, of which he could give no 
 satisfactory account. The notes were new, evi- 
 dently, by their appearance, had not been long in 
 circulation ; and it should have been in his power 
 to have said from whom they were received, but 
 he could not. 
 
 The landlady could give no more particular ac- 
 count of the matter ; but Mrs. Halden wildly^ de- 
 clared they were hers. Mrs. Servit was shaken by 
 her earnestness in her notion ; and our hero, while 
 the women were talking, lifted his hat and went 
 straight to the prison to ascertain the numbers of 
 the notes, and such other details as might elucidate 
 a transaction which was, in its nature and disco- 
 very, so singular and affecting. 
 
120 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BY this time the evening was merging into night; 
 the lamps were lighted, the shop-windows beamed 
 in every direction like new-born stars, and the orbs 
 of heaven began to glitter with their wonted lustre, 
 the streets were less crowded, many had retired 
 from them to their lodgings : the music of the 
 organist and street-minstrel rose above the mur- 
 murs of the multitude ; and the drays disencum- 
 bered of their loads were hastening homeward. It 
 was that hour in which labour resigns his toil, and 
 guilt rouses himself for enterprise. 
 
 But our hero, unaffected by these signs, hasten- 
 ed on towards the prison, his mind was engrossed 
 with the distress of Mrs. Halden, and grieved that 
 circumstances were so much against her as, in the 
 opinion of Mrs. Servit, entitled her to no com- 
 miseration. He was not himself in the slightest 
 degree disturbed in the opinion he had formed; 
 but he knew that, with all her goodness of heart, 
 Mrs. Servit was full of prejudice, and had taken 
 up an ill opinion of the unhappy woman. 
 
 When he arrived at Newgate, some little time 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 121 
 
 elapsed before he could obtain admission. It was 
 near the hour when the prison gates are shut for 
 the night to visitors ; but as he enquired for the 
 numbers of the notes which had been found upon 
 the young man, he was at last admitted. 
 
 During the time he stood at the door explaining 
 the object and nature of his visit to the man sta- 
 tioned there, a woman also sought entrance ; she 
 was very meanly and dirtily dressed ; her tall 
 gaunt figure was wrapped in a cloak that possibly 
 once had been red ; she wore a tattered straw hat, 
 and two wretched bundlings of rags instead of 
 shoes ; yet she had earrings, and was altogether a 
 deplorable picture of one declined from opulence 
 to squalid beggary. 
 
 The man at the door at last consented to admit 
 Troven, and at the same time this outcast woman, 
 with whom he seemed to have some acquaintance. 
 At an inner door stood another man, and with him 
 an old grey headed inmate of the prison, who led 
 Troven to a room where he said the culprit, whom 
 he sought, was giving some account of himself to a 
 lawyer. Troven followed without speaking, shud- 
 dering with dismay as he heard around the shut- 
 ting of heavy doors, with mirthless laughter and 
 the clank of fetters. 
 
 After giving a small gratuity to his guide, he 
 went in and was followed by the woman, who, how- 
 ever, kept a little behind him, as if she avoided the 
 eyes of the lawyer. 
 
 The back of the culprit, who stood at the end of a 
 table, was towards our hero, in whom Troven beheld 
 with surprise, an exceedingly well-dressed young 
 man ; nothing in his appearance bespoke his igno- 
 
122 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 minious profession, but his language was low and 
 mean, such as the vulgar make use of. In all other 
 respects his phisiognomy was mild, his manners good, 
 and his whole deportment not unbecoming his dress. 
 
 In the meantime the woman had also been look- 
 ing at the young man, and, suddenly, forgetful of 
 the place, she gave a loud scream, and declared 
 herself his mother. 
 
 The lateness of the hour rendered this interrup- 
 tion of the proceedings so far important that the 
 lawyer shut his book, postponing all further en- 
 quiries till next morning ; and, without observing 
 our hero in the room, went away By this opportu- 
 nity Troven was left with the mother and son and 
 two others, who were spectators as well as himself. 
 
 A scene of recrimination between the mother and 
 son then ensued ; she blamed him for his clumsi- 
 ness in the work he had undertaken, in coarse un- 
 sparing language, and he retaliated by accusing 
 her of bringing him up in a life of hazards to which 
 his heart never lay. 
 
 There was something so frightful in their alterca- 
 tion, that the feelings of our hero, had he obeyed 
 them, would have prompted him to quit the apart- 
 ment, but he was fascinated to the spot by the 
 dread and novelty of their situation, and he forgot to 
 inquire about Mrs. Maiden's notes. Indeed there was 
 something in the bickering of the woman that more 
 nearly interested himself ; she spoke of the trouble 
 which her son had given her from his youth, and 
 particularly of the obstinacy he had shown in 
 childhood, when she had stripped the son of some 
 gentlefolks to supply him with new clothes. 
 
 Troven, on looking at the blighted youth before 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 123 
 
 him, saw that he appeared nearly of his own age ; 
 and he had heard from Mrs. Servit, by whom his 
 rags were preserved, all the circumstances in which 
 he had himself been found, but at this moment it 
 was announced that the hour had expired when vi- 
 sitors must quit the prison, and he was constrained, 
 before he thought of the notes, to retire with the 
 woman and the rest of the party to the door. 
 
 When they had reached the outside of the jail it 
 was quite dark, but he saw by the lights which 
 gleamed in the street, the abandoned woman walk- 
 ing before him. 
 
 He would have shrunk from her company, but 
 something like a spell was upon him, and he could 
 not. At last he addressed her ; expressing his sur- 
 prise that she should have brought up her son in 
 such a way of life and being so vexed at his jeo- 
 pardy. 
 
 " What could I else?" said she, " was not I, his 
 mother, an outcast a convict, that had beaten 
 hemp a hundred times till her hands were blistered ? 
 Was such a woman in a condition to teach her son 
 to be an honest man ? No, no, Sir ; you are a 
 green-horn, I could only make him a thief; but he 
 ought by this time to have been more clever at the 
 trade, for his 'prenticeship began before he was 
 three years old/* 
 
 Troven little heeded her frantic words ; they in- 
 duced him however to question her as they went 
 along, what she meant by accusing the young man 
 of that reluctance to receive the new clothes of 
 which she had stripped another child. 
 
 " Ah !" cried she "it is an old story, but if you 
 will treat me to a quartern of gin I '11 tell you it 
 
124 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 all, for it is now too long in the devil's belly to be 
 cast up against me/' 
 
 Troven, however, declined her proposition ; but 
 he gave her some money, and said, that if she 
 would walk with him towards Pentonville, and tell 
 him the story, he would give her more. 
 
 This proposition was too good to be resisted, and 
 they walked on together, when resuming her trou- 
 bled and guilty tale, she related to him, with some- 
 thing like an air of triumph, in what manner she 
 had seized a little boy while he was riding on a 
 stick, and carried him off from Southampton-row, 
 to where she lodged, in a beggarly den, and after- 
 wards stripped him of his clothes for her reprobate 
 son as she called him. 
 
 Our hero, almost unable to suppress the agita- 
 tion into which he was thrown by this recital, and 
 which the darkness of the night concealed, eagerly 
 bade her make haste. But the courteous reader 
 must supply his amazement, when she continued 
 
 " Scarcely had I niftered the rags for the fine 
 clothes, when I was seized with a terrible fright. 
 The child cried ; I thought of what had been done, 
 and being fresh at the business, I left my own son 
 alone in our lodgings, and bore like a desperate 
 fugitive the urchin I had plundered, to a long 
 distance from London, without halting. Towards 
 evening we were not far from a village by the side 
 
 of a common in shire ; there wearied and tired 
 
 of my occasional burthen, I sat down. It appeared 
 to me, then, that my greatest danger arose from 
 the brat being in my possession ; and the devil 
 tempted me ; but I was not all good ; for though 
 God kept my hands clean of blood, I left the boy 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 125 
 
 upon the common, and made the best of my way 
 by another route to town." 
 
 Troven was inexplicably affected by this story. 
 It seemed so like what he had himself suffered, and 
 answered in so many essential points to his own 
 case, that he could not but believe he was him- 
 self no other than the victim of her criminal pur- 
 pose ; but he said nothing, except enquiring if she 
 had never heard the fate of the child she had so 
 trepanned : her answer was short. 
 
 tc Never," said she; " but somehow his doom 
 lies heavy on my conscience, and I have never for- 
 gotten him ; I see him yet, when in the intervals 
 of crying he piteously implored me to take him 
 home." 
 
 Troven having in this accidental way obtained a 
 clue, as he believed, to his parentage, he requested 
 her address, and told her where his chambers were, 
 bidding her call in the morning. 
 
126 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BY the time that Troven reached the lodgings of 
 Mrs. Servit, her antipathies to Mrs. Halden were 
 greatly appeased ; like in the fable of the lion in 
 love with a country lass, her kindness had drawn 
 the fangs and talons of prejudice, but for consis- 
 tency she still pretended to have doubts on the 
 subject. The despondent lady had, in the ab- 
 sence of our hero, made her acquainted with the 
 principal incidents of her story, and had won her 
 kindness by her unaffected relation. They had 
 taken tea together, and were sitting in expectation 
 of his return. The first words on his entering the 
 room, even before he had time to address them, 
 were an eager exclamation from Mrs. Halden, if 
 her orphan's money had been found. 
 
 Events, as we have already mentioned, of nearer 
 concernment, had made him think of its import- 
 ance as a secondary thing; perhaps he suffered at 
 the time, something of his hereditary absence of 
 mind, for he looked startled and aghast at her 
 question and his reply was not satisfactory, but he 
 added, that the examination of the culprit for his 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 127 
 
 justification was incomplete, it would however be 
 finished next morning. 
 
 " Alas !" said the unhappy lady, " is it not yet 
 ascertained whether all my poor babies have lost 
 may yet be recovered ?" 
 
 Troven, not knowing what exactly to say, turned 
 to Mrs. Servit and enquired if she recollected the 
 day on which he was found on the common by Dr. 
 Wycombe ; for whenever he could speak of that 
 event before strangers he never failed to do so, in 
 the hope by that freedom he might be led into the 
 path of discovering his family. 
 
 The answer was more to the point than he ex- 
 pected ; she declared that at the moment she did 
 not recollect, but she had written it in her Bible, 
 were it still might be seen. 
 
 Mrs. Halden, wholly engrossed with her own 
 situation, cried with some impatience, " I beseech 
 you inform me if there be any hope of recovery*" 
 
 " Nothing will be wanting," cried Mrs. Servit, 
 mistaking the drift of her interrogation, " on my 
 part to make the right plain if it were to come to an 
 issue, which I hope it is every day drawing nearer; 
 the day and date are written by my own hand on 
 the cover of the Word of God, and the rags are in 
 a sealed-paper parcel at the bottom of my trunk." 
 
 " Oh!" cried Mrs. Halden, with a wild accent, 
 " is there nothing between my children and star- 
 vation." 
 
 " Dear me," said Mrs. Servit, " were the notes 
 all the money you had ?" 
 
 Mrs. Halden by this time, could only sob out 
 " Yes, yes, we have but the goodness of Providence 
 between us and want; and sad experience has 
 
128 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 taught me that our trust may be fallacious, for It 
 suits Its great plan of blessings to afflict with 
 manifold misfortunes; and she added, starting from 
 her seat, to cast down the worthy and overwhelm 
 the innocent." 
 
 Mrs. Servit, who in all her life had never seen 
 such an impassioned spectacle of grief, rose also 
 from her seat, in sympathy and silence, wringing 
 her hands and looking with flowing eyes on the 
 afflicted mother. 
 
 Troven was pierced to the heart; his means 
 afforded him no paliative for her distress ; and he 
 felt for the first time that anguish which is ashamed 
 of sorrow ; but Mrs. Servit soon recovered from her 
 weeping astonishment, and with the presence of 
 mind which never deserts the benevolent in the hour 
 of need, took Mrs. Halden by the hand, and re- 
 placing her on the chair, said, " Out of this house 
 you shall not go this night, without carrying com- 
 fort to your family ; and come to me with your 
 weans in the morning and you may be sure that I 
 will not in the meantime forget to think of the 
 misfortune that has befallen you." 
 
 Over what ensued we must draw a veil, and 
 Only add, when Mrs. Halden's tears were in some 
 degree assuaged, she went away, and our hero tar- 
 ried behind to communicate to Mrs. Servit the par- 
 culars of the extraordinary conversation he had 
 held with the mother of the thief. He spoke of it 
 sedately as a man speaks of imminent business in 
 which all he is possessed of is at stake, and with 
 but a feeble hope that the result may be different 
 from his fears. 
 
 Mrs, Servit was one of those characters on whom 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 129 
 
 visible objects make a deep impression. The man- 
 ner and attitude of despair, with which the hopeless 
 widow uttered her exclamation, continued to fill 
 the retina of her mind. She could not even think 
 of what Troven related of his own case, much as 
 undoubtedly she was attached to him; indeed for 
 some time she could only give vent to the vague 
 vapour of her feelings, while he could scarcely 
 acquit himself of negligence in a mission which he 
 had undertaken voluntarily, prompted solely by a 
 wish to lessen the pressure of distress. 
 
 By-and-bye, however, they both became some- 
 what more calm and collected. Mrs.'Servit was 
 then all sympathy for Mrs. Halden ; her preju- 
 dices were gone which had risen without the 
 slightest reason, except indeed that Troven in in- 
 troducing her had spoken of her as a poetess, to 
 secure a larger share of Mrs. Servit's good nature, 
 but which had made her regard her as a damaged 
 character. She saw, now, she was quite the reverse, 
 and beheld in her only an unfortunate woman, 
 on whom the hand of adversity had pressed with 
 terrible effect ; and her wishes far outran the means 
 to which her generosity was ardently prompted. 
 
 When she had exhausted the terms of her voca- 
 bulary in condolence for the calamities which Mrs. 
 Halden had met with, and told our hero that in in- 
 troducing her as a poetess, she thought he meant 
 to put her on her guard against a play-actress, 
 or some other such like cattle, she suddenly, 
 without any connecting expression, turned on him 
 concerning his own case, and again required him 
 to go over, with question and answer, his conversa- 
 
 VOL. iv. K 
 
130 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 tion with the woman in the red cloak, inquring, 
 when he had done, if he did not ask her name. 
 
 " I am not sure," said he, smitten with a consci- 
 ousness of being quite overwhelmed with the know- 
 ledge he had acquired, " if I did ask her, but the 
 name of her son was Jasper Tomlins." 
 
 "That's a very romantic name," cried Mrs. 
 Servit. " Gracious me ! I knew a servant that was 
 called Jasper Tomlins in the household of the ne- 
 phew of the old lady that I was companion to be- 
 fore I undertook to keep Mr. Pearl's house : what 
 became of him I cannot tell, but he was a ram- 
 plor ne'er-do-well, and no far short of the hue of a 
 blackguard. Jasper Tomlins it could not be him, 
 for it is more than five-and-twenty years since I 
 knew him, and he was then a tempestuous kena- 
 quawhat, and the good was not in him." 
 
 " But," said our hero, " it might be his son." 
 
 " Aye, that 's very true, I never thought of that ; 
 for his fine name was a clear proof that he was not 
 come of an honest parentage ; and it was a clish- 
 me-claver among the other servants that he was 
 surely a gentleman's get, for he was found when 
 an infant, in gay apparel, lying at a dyke side, with 
 a cabbage-blade on his mouth to keep away the 
 flies." 
 
 " He was a foundling," said Troven with a sigh. 
 
 " Oh, my tongue," cried Mrs. Servit, " you 
 know of the old, is apt to run away with the sense. 
 I did not mean a right sort of a foundling clothed 
 in rags, with other certainties of his being born in 
 a mysterious manner, like one of high degree, but 
 just a laddy bairn, laid forlorn at a dyke-side, like 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 131 
 
 Moses in the bulrushes : but I am to blame to 
 liken the likes of him to Moses, who had a king's 
 daughter for his step-mother, and smote the house 
 of Pharaoh with ten plagues, and afterwards 
 drowned every skin of them in the Red Sea ; 
 Goodness me ! what would this world have been 
 had they got to the other side in safety ?" 
 
 Troven was too much accustomed to her man- 
 ner, to take amiss any lapsus lingua that fell from 
 her garrulity in the course of conversation, and he 
 was always amused at her shifts to get out of a 
 scrape. On this occasion he remarked that he had 
 never before thought of Moses having been a 
 foundling. 
 
 " If you did not, you ought," replied the lady ; 
 " for before you were sent to Dr. Wy combe's 
 school, I mind very well teaching you all about 
 him on the Sunday evenings. And, Mr. Edward, 
 I would not undertake to say that you were then a 
 prime scholar : ye had no a right reverence for the 
 snuffers, the golden candlesticks and shovels of 
 Israelitish worship in the wilderness." 
 
 " Oh, you know," cried Troven, in the same 
 key, " what was meant by those things." 
 
 " Were they not ordained ?" cried Mrs. Servit, 
 glad to escape from her inadvertency about the 
 foundling ; " and is it not in a sense rank blas- 
 phemy to doubt of their ordination ; but Mr. Edward, 
 ye are no so orthodox as I could wish, and therefore 
 I will never dispute the point with you ; but who 
 ever heard of tongs and shovels, and candlesticks, 
 made of gold, ay, of fine gold too, that were kit- 
 chen furniture ?" 
 
 In such loose talk as the foregoing, Mrs. Servit 
 K 2 
 
132 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 very inartificially endeavoured to change the 
 conversation ; but the incidents of the evening 
 made it as absurd as it was disagreeable to our 
 hero ; his own case furnished sufficient for him to 
 think about, even without the painful reflections 
 that arose when he thought of Mrs. Halden ; and 
 he was exasperated when he called to mind in what 
 manner both for her and himself he had so incon- 
 clusively acted. We have no excuse to make for 
 him, but the robbery of Mrs. Halden had greatly 
 disturbed him, and the extraordinary incidents 
 which had succeeded, troubled his self-possession. 
 Finding the omission could not be recalled, and 
 that the ideas of Mrs. Servit were completely scat- 
 tered abroad, he rose, and, as the night was wear- 
 ing late, bade her adieu, intimating that he would 
 see her in the course of the forenoon next day. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 133 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ON the return of Troven to his chambers, he found, 
 by a note in his letter-box, that Villiers had come 
 to town an event which gave him great plea- 
 sure, as he was involved in different circumstances, 
 which his feelings told him were full of difficul- 
 ties, and requiring the advice of a friend. 
 
 Notwithstanding by this time it was late, he felt 
 no inclination to go to sleep ; for, all the day, and 
 particularly the evening, he had been raised to 
 a high state of excitement. Mrs. Halden, her 
 misfortunes and her family, had interested him 
 beyond expression. Her reception by Mrs. Servit, 
 though in the end indemnified, was a disappoint- 
 ment, and tried his feelings while it moved his 
 mirth. The scene in the prison was new and dis- 
 agreeable to recollect. It was the first time he 
 had ever seen evil the good of any one ; and his 
 mind, which was pitched to a high key, vibrated 
 with anguish when he thought of a mother up- 
 braiding her son for not being expert enough in 
 thievery. Above all, he thought deeper and dreader 
 of the woman's tale of crime, and the possibility 
 
134 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 that he might be himself the destitute victim of her 
 unfeeling dishonesty. 
 
 He sat down at the window of his apartment : 
 it was high, and overlooked the southern buildings 
 of the Temple. The night was calm and clear ; 
 the stars glittered with unwonted brilliancy, and 
 the constellations of the earth, which shone from 
 the town on the opposite banks of the river, had a 
 salutary influence in lifting his imagination from 
 low cares and sordid fears. Only an occasional 
 cry was heard, and the noises of the vast city 
 around were sunk into a murmur, sometimes broken 
 by silence. 
 
 He called to mind every thing that he could re- 
 member of himself from the earliest moment ; but 
 memory could not transport him further back than 
 his residence in the house of Mr. Pearl. He had 
 some recollection of being found wandering on the 
 common by Dr. Wycombe ; but the reminiscence of 
 that event was hazy and obscure, and he was not 
 quite certain whether it was from remembrance 
 or an often-told tale that the circumstance re- 
 mained with him. Before that event a confused 
 accumulation of indistinct images rested, beyond 
 which he could see nothing of any form. It was a 
 mass of darkness, streaked with light ; but he could 
 give no name to the elegance which, as often as 
 he reverted to that beginning of memory, floated 
 past, and was all the evidence he possessed of 
 having been familiar with grandeur before he was 
 found in rags. 
 
 When he had indulged in the kind of reverie 
 which the stillness and beauty of the night inspired , 
 with the joining of himself by a very slender 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD 135 
 
 thread to various events, it seemed to him that the 
 story, which he had heard from Mrs. Tomlins the 
 preceding evening, could only apply to himself. 
 He framed doubts of its truth ; but there was 
 something in his own mind which strangely corro- 
 borated her narration ; and he determined to pur- 
 sue the enquiry, with strictness, farther. 
 
 In the morning, after a night of restless ecstacy, 
 he snatched a hasty breakfast, and went to Mr. 
 Villiers, to whom he related the extraordinary 
 transactions of the past day, and particularly the 
 tale which interested himself. 
 
 Villiers listened to the latter with profound at- 
 tention : he never interrupted the relation with one 
 word of remark, but leant forward with his lips 
 firmly closed, and his eyes betokening the most 
 intense thoughtfulness. Even after the tale was 
 told, he remained some time in this attitude with- 
 out speaking, and then said 
 
 " The story of Mrs. Halden is a common one 
 many more affecting may be heard of among the 
 distresses of the world : it is common-place, and 
 the only remarkable feature about it is the rob- 
 bery ; but that it too, belongs to the ordinary pro- 
 babilities of life, my experience does not enable 
 me to say. What to think of the scene between 
 the mother and the son I know not ; but, according 
 to books, the bad never lose sight of virtue ; your 
 story shows the reverse, and, therefore, I should 
 say it is, begging your pardon, a little apocryphal, 
 or my reading of such things has been in books 
 of that kind ; but the oddest part is that in which 
 you are most interested. You are the child I am 
 sure you are otherwise it could not possibly 
 
136 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 have happened that your recollection, vague as it 
 is, could have, in so many incidents, coincided 
 with the woman's tale." 
 
 Troven then told him that he had made an ap- 
 pointment for that morning with the mother of the 
 delinquent, Tomlins, and requested him to adjourn 
 to his chambers. As they went thither, he men- 
 tioned that, among other expedients, he intended 
 to put an advertisement in the newspapers, noti- 
 fying the substance of what he had learned con- 
 cerning the foundling. 
 
 Villiers decidedly approved of this project, and 
 could not refrain from remarking, that one of the 
 most striking features of his case was the inatten- 
 tion with which it had been marked, towards all 
 those means calculated to excite attention. 
 
 u But," said he, " a sudden turn has taken 
 place in your fortunes an accident, a miracle ; and 
 it gives an assurance of better hope than we have 
 entertained ; of one thing you cannot but be certain 
 your parents miss you as much as you do them." 
 
 " Yes," said Troven, " if they are alive ; but " 
 
 " Ah !" interrupted Villiers, " I did not con- 
 sider that : the careless manner in which the loss 
 of you has been slurred over is, however, a proof 
 that you are not an elder son." 
 
 " I think," replied our hero, " we may leave 
 that question to be settled hereafter; my whole 
 mind is occupied with the woman Tomlins* story, 
 and I can think of nothing else. It has burst 
 upon me like a new creation of light. I was in 
 darkness and conjecture when it broke, nor can I 
 credit myself as one awake when I think of what 
 she has related." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 137 
 
 " It is very extraordinary," said Villiers, " that, 
 after so many years when you have been lost, as 
 it were, in oblivion, that you have stumbled on 
 such a likeness of truth ; but a man does not re- 
 quire to grow grey-haired in the world, to see that 
 the most improbable discoveries are brought about 
 by the easiest means. What do you intend to 
 make of the woman's confession ?" 
 
 " I know not/' said Troven ; " I am perplexed. 
 It is plain, that if she suspects the motive by which 
 I am actuated, she is quite capable of having re- 
 course to her invention for the facts that may be 
 requisite to substantiate the proofs." 
 
 " Ay/' said Villiers ; " doubtless, if she could 
 attach you to a respectable family." 
 
 " She would not attempt that," said our hero, 
 " unless she could make it good." 
 
 " A priori," exclaimed Villiers, " so much seems 
 probable ; but if she attach you to a base pa- 
 rentage, she may hope to wrench from yourself a 
 sufficient reward." 
 
 " You have an ill opinion of the world," said 
 Troven thoughtfully ; " surely there is not such 
 wickedness in the human heart as that for gain she 
 would plunge me into such a depth." 
 
 " It is not credible," said Villiers ; but we know 
 that mankind often do worse deeds for small gains. 
 By your description of the woman, she is of a 
 bad kind." 
 
 " She is," said Troven ; " but there is a wildness 
 about her which seems more akin to madness than 
 to guilt. The story she has told me is, in itself, 
 incredible, and would to you, or any other person, 
 have so seemed ; but to me it had a meaning quite 
 
138 THE STOLEN CHILD, 
 
 miraculous. I have not been myself since she 
 made the disclosure, and yet there are few but my- 
 self who would have listened to the ravelled tale." 
 " Have you told Mrs. Servit what you heard ?" 
 " I have : but till she coolly thinks of what I 
 said, it is not safe to listen to her, especially when 
 the narrative does not chime in with her habitual 
 belief.'* 
 
 By this time they were ascending, in a desultory 
 manner, the stairs which led to Troven's cham- 
 bers, and, without being under the least restraint, 
 they were both disturbed in mind. Troven was 
 absent and agitated ; his thoughts were scattered, 
 and he was as one who had heard strange tidings 
 which involved all his fortune. Villiers was no 
 less abstracted ; but there was a kind of wonder- 
 ment and confusion about him as perplexing to 
 himself as the more troubled emotion of his friend. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 139 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IT turned out that the examination of Jasper Tom- 
 lins in the morning, terminated fortunately for him. 
 The gentleman on whose pocket he had made the 
 attempt, and on whose alarm he had been seized, 
 declined to prosecute him ; in consequence, he was 
 almost immediately set at liberty ; for, that morn- 
 ing the sessions ended, and no one appeared against 
 him : but his mother was at his elbow, and urged 
 him to demand the restitution of the money, which 
 could not be refused. The young man himself, 
 from an inherent bashfulness that leant to the side 
 of virtue, would not have been so bold. 
 
 Owing to the necessary delay on his account, 
 she was later of appearing at our hero's chambers 
 than he expected ; and when she did come, the 
 liberated culprit came with her, but stopped at the 
 foot of the stairs while she ascended. 
 
 The night he had passed in Newgate, and the 
 verge of conviction on which he had stood, had 
 wrought with him a great change. He deter- 
 mined to quit his hazardous way of life, and be- 
 
140 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 come a sailor. Nature had, indeed, no hand in 
 making him what he was ; for he had in him the 
 seeds of good qualities, with an integrity that had 
 been injured, but not crushed, by his mother's ne- 
 farious instruction. Of his father nothing was 
 known ; but singular enough, it was in the end 
 ascertained, that he was no other than the reckless 
 individual whom Mrs. Servit had formerly known. 
 
 While the woman was upstairs, contrition was 
 still at work within him ; and among other acts of 
 repentance, he resolved to seek out Mrs. Halden, 
 and restore to her the notes. He had seen her 
 come out of one of the Temple gates, and con- 
 jectured that she was probably known to some- 
 body within. Accordingly, he stepped over to a 
 wig-maker's shop, opposite to the foot of the stairs 
 at which he was standing, and requested him to 
 put a bill in his window, that such a sum of money 
 had been found the preceding day at the Temple- 
 gate, and would be restored to the owner, on 
 giving a description of the notes, and a small 
 gratuity to the finder. 
 
 This was not exactly the truth, and the stipula- 
 tion for a reward not in the highest style of honour. 
 But we must not question the motives of the peni- 
 tent too narrowly. He conceived himself doing a 
 very meritorious action, and well entitled to a re- 
 ward. Many in the world do worse, and yet 
 proudly pocket their recompense as easily won. 
 But we have no time to moralize on the subject ; 
 for scarcely was the bill pasted on the pane, when 
 his mother appeared, and required his attendance 
 also in Troven's chambers. 
 
 On going there with her, Troven and Villiers 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 141 
 
 were expecting him. His mother had already told 
 the story of the stolen child ; she had also told, as 
 she called it, the acquittal of her son, and had 
 acknowledged that he was again in possession of 
 all the money which had been taken from him, 
 and that he was then waiting for her at the foot of 
 the stairs. 
 
 Without exactly making his friend acquainted 
 with his motive, Villiers, in an easy manner re- 
 quested to see the young man ; and as we have re- 
 lated, she brought him before them. 
 
 Among the peculiarities of Mr. Villiers, was a 
 strong belief in the truth of physiognomy, and 
 probably he had never a better subject before him, 
 for Jasper Tomlins had a prepossessing counte- 
 nance, his features were handsome, and there was 
 a gentleness in his look to which his deplorable 
 career had given only a cast of thought. He was 
 as like an honest man as one by profession a rogue 
 could be ; one, in short, in whom fortune was 
 wholly to blame in placing him in a situation where 
 he could be no other. So that the exhortation 
 with which Villiers had prepared himself to urge 
 the restoration of the money, was, he saw, un- 
 necessary ; but with a kind of gentle persuasion, 
 he mentioned the distress of Mrs. Halden, and 
 hoped, that in token of his escape, he would give 
 her back the money. 
 
 His astonishment was, in consequence, very 
 great, when the ill-fated young man replied, that 
 he had already done all in his power, by procuring 
 the notice to be placed on the hair-dresser's 
 window. 
 
 The triumph of Villiers at this incident was ex- 
 
142 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 cessive ; his belief in the truth of physiognomy 
 was strengthened, and perhaps his exultation on 
 that head was not less than his humanity. But, 
 with the exception of this agreeable occurrence, 
 the visit tended little to soothe the anxieties of our 
 our hero. The story in which he was so much in- 
 terested, was repeated by the woman to Villiers, 
 and varied in no particular from her recital the 
 preceding evening. Villiers then admonished the 
 young man to quit his dishonest courses, and 
 heard, with equal surprise and pleasure, that it 
 was his determination to leave London, and go at 
 once to sea. 
 
 During the conversation between Villiers and 
 her son, the woman stood by in silence ; and when 
 she heard this, she began to sob and weep bitterly. 
 Troven, softened by her manner, thought this a 
 sign of contrition, and spoke kindly to her ; but 
 Villiers, more experienced, was not so soon de- 
 ceived ; for, at something which Troven said, her 
 ire could no longer be restrained, and she vented 
 her indignation, by turning on her son, and with 
 all manner of unfeminine abuse, called him a 
 craven and a coward for deserting his colours so 
 basely. 
 
 Had she been permitted, perhaps the scene of 
 recrimination which had amazed our hero the pre- 
 ceding evening, would have been renewed ; but 
 Villiers interfered to prevent it, and the penitent 
 was not so easily provoked ; he only replied to 
 many of her intemperate sallies with an unintelli- 
 gible churme, that was often pathetic, and con- 
 cluded by saying 
 
 " Gentlemen, I was never taught but to do ill." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 143 
 
 An expression that quite drove his mother into 
 frenzy. She actually danced with rage ; and ex- 
 tending her arms, grinned with inexpressible pas- 
 sion. Troven, however, calmly requested the young 
 man to go away, and return in a few minutes, 
 when she would be quieter. Villiers, with more 
 experience of the fluctuations of the human will, 
 requested him to leave the money ; and the scene 
 that ensued baffled all description. The frantic 
 woman could with difficulty be held from snatch- 
 ing the notes, when she saw them, and in other 
 respects behaved with uncontrollable violence, in- 
 somuch that it was necessary to call in assistance, 
 and to give her into the custody of a con- 
 stable. 
 
 The hideous spectacle which her ungovernable 
 rage exhibited, at once awed, and was salutary to 
 her son. It rivetted his resolution, to withdraw 
 from the hazard of such sights, and it made him 
 feel some touch of shame and remorse, as he re- 
 tired from the chambers. 
 
 He lingered about the Temple till he saw her 
 depart, and then, with a humble and modest air, 
 went up to Mr. Villiers, and 'reminded him, that 
 in giving the money, he had given him all he 
 had ; saying, he ought to get a reward ; for if 
 he did not, he had no alternative but to steal 
 again. 
 
 Villiers gave him one of the notes ; and be- 
 coming interested in him, requested him to call the 
 following morning. 
 
144 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OUR hero took Villiers with him, with the intention 
 of calling at Mrs. Servit's, in hopes of meeting 
 there with Mrs. Halden, to restore to her the 
 money ; but, instead of going straight on, they 
 turned westward to procure the insertion of the 
 advertisement, and from the newspaper office they 
 walked towards Southampton-row, Bloomsbury a 
 metaphysical device of Villiers, who fancied that 
 Troven might recognise his father's house ; for he 
 had heard of instances in which younger children 
 than he was when he was stolen, had shown as 
 great a fidelity of memory ; but when they arrived 
 there, the place was undergoing a variety of 
 changes, and no longer appeared the same. 
 
 The Duke of Bedford's house, which stood in 
 that neighbourhood, was not then taken down, but 
 all about was laid waste for the new improvements 
 where Russell-square now stands, and the west side 
 of Southampton-row was then being built upon : it is 
 not, therefore, surprising that he did not recognize 
 where he was when on the scene of his youthful 
 gambols ; but in returning down the west side of 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 145 
 
 the Row, and looking towards the houses on the 
 east, something like a reminiscence broke upon his 
 mind ; it was, however, so indistinct and vague, 
 that without some limning of the imagination he 
 could not safely say that he had ever seen it before. 
 They then proceeded to Mrs. Servit 's lodgings, 
 where, as they expected, Mrs. Halden and her two 
 children were waiting. 
 
 We shall not describe what ensued, nor the 
 thankfulness with which the widow received back 
 her money, at the same time acknowledging that 
 Mrs. Servit's generosity had superseded the impor- 
 tance of the restoration, and had enabled her to ar- 
 range for setting out in the afternoon to her father's. 
 
 Hitherto, Villiers had been so much occupied 
 all the morning with Troven's case and the unhappy 
 lot of Jasper Tomlins, that he had no time to en- 
 quire very particularly respecting Mrs. Halden, 
 and knew no more about her than her name ; but, 
 after sitting some time, he casually remarked that 
 the eldest of the children bore a strong resemblance 
 to some one that he had formerly known. 
 
 At the observation, the mother became very 
 much agitated, and burst into tears, from which 
 she was some time of recovering ; and Mrs. Servit, 
 surprised as well as the gentlemen at the sudden- 
 ness of her grief, led her into another room. After 
 some time, Mrs. Servit returned, and mentioned, 
 that surely the end of the world was at hand, for 
 witnesses were witnessing one against another in an 
 improbable manner ; and, turning towards Mr. 
 Villiers, enquired if he was ever resident with Mr. 
 Ash ton, in Yorkshire ? 
 
 " Ashton," said he ; " yes my youth was spent 
 
 VOL. iv. L 
 
146 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 in his house ; it was the happiest period of my life. 
 Ah ! well do I recollect when I was there a strip- 
 ling : the dark side of the world has been towards 
 me ever since." 
 
 " Then/' cried Mrs. Servit, " you will have a 
 remembrance of the Rev. Mr. Horncastle, who was 
 the minister of the parish ?" 
 
 66 Ah ! the Rector/' said he ; "I knew him well, 
 and all his family : he had eleven children, and the 
 nine eldest were daughters." 
 
 " And what did they call the youngest?" said 
 she. 
 
 " Come, come," cried Troven, interrupting her, 
 " don't be going about the bush in that way ; I 
 know you of old ; when you have got a secret, you 
 never hide the candle under a bushel, but set it on 
 the top of the bottom, that every body may see it 
 burning. Tell us what you wish to know." 
 
 But before she could make any answer, Villiers 
 clapped his hands, and cried, 
 
 " It is Mary Horncastle that the child resem- 
 bles." 
 
 " You are a witch of a guesser," said Mrs. Servit; 
 " she is perhaps not far off." 
 
 " Is it possible?" said he; "is Mrs. Halden 
 her?" 
 
 " I'll tell you without a fee," replied the matron; 
 " she is no other, and the child is said to be as like 
 her at her age as a kitten is like a cat." 
 
 Upon this, Mrs. Halden was called in, and a 
 mutual recognition between her and Villiers imme- 
 diately took place. She had from the first known 
 him, but soon perceived he had no recollection of 
 her : she was much younger, and had outgrown the 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 147 
 
 image in his memory ; but when he recognized the 
 likeness in the child, she could no longer repress 
 her tears, nor the flood of tenderness which rushed 
 upon her heart, with the sudden reminiscences of 
 the long-forgotten, but, when remembered, the 
 bright and beloved past. 
 
 With many persons, especially with those des- 
 tined to misfortune, the scenes of the past are per- 
 manent pictures in the memory ; but with others of 
 a more varied life, they are shifting shadows that 
 come and go unexpectedly like the mirroring of the 
 camera lucida. Mrs. Halden had been for many 
 years so subject to an eventful life, that she had 
 but little time to think of her childhood ; but the 
 sight of one whom she had known in happier days 
 a spruce and sprightly young man, on whose fore- 
 head was now impressed the mark of age, suddenly 
 affected her, and brought on that paroxysm which 
 she could not controul. 
 
 After some time had passed in conversation, 
 Troven remarked that they stood at the confluence 
 of many events, " especially," said he, " Mrs. Hal- 
 den and myself. I was never so near the brink of 
 destruction before never so near the discovery of 
 what I am ; and certainly it is not common that so 
 many persons connected with the fate of each other 
 should happen thus to meet." 
 
 Villiers shook his head. " That remark," said 
 he, " shows your age, Mr. Troven; as you grow 
 older, you will be less surprised at more extraordi- 
 dinary conjunctures. When I read of improbabi- 
 lities, it sets me a thinking, especially if they are 
 each such as would be deserving of notice in the 
 course of a long life. If they happen together, I 
 
 L2 
 
148 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 say to myself, had these things chanced far apart, 
 would there have been any thing wonderful about 
 them ? But coming all at once, they seem the 
 more improbable. Surely it is no very wonderful 
 thing that I should meet in after-life, in London, 
 with Mary Horncastle, whom I knew a mere child ; 
 and surely it is no such extraordinary thing to meet 
 with a thief just relieved from jail, and so contrite 
 for being there as to give up stolen property ; but 
 that it should belong to one that I have so known 
 makes the matter seem improbable. We grow less 
 credulous as we grow old, and meet also with fewer 
 miracles. " 
 
 Turning to Troven, he added curiously, as if he 
 meant to give him instruction, " Whenever you 
 hear a critic loquacious about the improbabilities 
 of a story, rely upon it he is a greenhorn, and has 
 walked to little purpose over the earth. If we 
 could live long enough, and eternity is not wanted, 
 we should soon discern that a finite being is not 
 able to imagine a possibility without violating the 
 established routine of nature. Our sphere is cir- 
 cumscribed, life short, and our world is only older 
 than ourselves ; we cannot say it is much more 
 durable ; all around us is brief and transient, and 
 we assume too much when we think of improbable 
 things. Improbability in its widest sense is only a 
 bringing together of circumstances which, if apart, 
 would not be very striking. In your case, Mr. 
 Troven, I should be rather afraid, judging from the 
 past, and after what has happened to you within 
 these few days, that you were on the borders of one 
 of Time's deserts. You have much to travel before 
 you come to an oasis ; for if you do soon, depend 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 149 
 
 upon it, it will be something more improbable than 
 you have yet met with : my experience would lead 
 me to fear, however, that you have a long way of 
 dullness before you." 
 
 It was so, for his advertisement was followed by 
 no seeming effect : as for the other things, they 
 belonged to the common course of events. Mrs. 
 Halden went to her father's, and little more was 
 heard of her for some time ; Jasper and his mo- 
 ther ceased for a while to be of any importance ; 
 Villiers, however, procured the lad a voyage to 
 India as a sailor, which took him from the road 
 to temptations in London. 
 
150 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 VILLIERS was right : day after day passed ; no no- 
 tice was taken of the advertisement, and our hero 
 quietly ate his way to the bar in comparatively 
 great penury. He was not, however, pinched into 
 such desperation, as when his allowance from Mr. 
 Pearl ceased ; but still he was extremely poor, and 
 often submitted to feel the pressure of poverty ra- 
 ther than apply to Mrs. Servit, who resided in 
 London solely on his account, and whose little 
 income was entirely at his disposal till he was 
 called to the bar. But his intimacy continued to 
 ripen more and more into friendship with Villiers, 
 whose peculiar character improved as he was better 
 known, and his stingless misanthropy was always 
 interesting and often amusing, as he had predicted ; 
 however, the confluence of events, which had so 
 surprised Troven, passed into a slower and easier 
 stream ; but there was a mystery about the man 
 which could never be fathomed. 
 
 During term-time he regularly attended the hall, 
 although he declared that he never intended to be 
 called to the bar. Sometimes, on the evening of 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 151 
 
 the last day of term, he went out of town, in what 
 direction was never mentioned ; and, although with 
 Troven, when in town, he was a constant companion, 
 he never asked him to come with him. 
 
 He confessed that his circumstances were straight- 
 ened, and that he was of no trade or profession, 
 yet he pursued no business which occupied his 
 leisure. All about his conduct was impenetrable ; 
 but in his chambers in town he was superior to 
 most men ; even in his eccentricities there was a 
 show of rational purpose that made him distin- 
 guished as at once an odd and far- forecasting per- 
 son. Troven frequently sought his company for 
 his good sense, though tinged with melancholy. 
 
 From one of those undivulged excursions, to 
 which we have alluded, he returned unexpectedly 
 to his chambers several days before the approach- 
 ing term, and, during the intervening time, he was 
 more than ordinarily moody and thoughtful : towards 
 Troven, with whom he was almost constantly, he 
 was, however, unchanged. It was palpable that 
 his mind was absorbed in something of an uncom- 
 mon nature, and disagreeable to think of ; but 
 as he showed no disposition to divulge what it was, 
 our hero took no notice of it certain that if it 
 could be told with propriety, he was sure, in the 
 end, to hear of it ; and that, if it was a secret 
 which he ought not to know, it would be foolish 
 and impertinent to yearn for the knowledge. 
 
 Whatever it was, when the term commenced, his 
 diurnal routine was renewed ; the cloud passed 
 from his brow, and he was again the old man. 
 
 Troven, who perceived this mutation of his mind, 
 was glad to observe the gloom pass away, and pur- 
 
152 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 sued his studies with undismayed assiduity. It is 
 true that occasionally, as a young man, he did find 
 this constancy of toil irksome, and now and then 
 vented a querulous ban against fortune and his own 
 helplessness ; but it was only occasionally that he 
 gave way to these short fits of spleen, and, when 
 he was tired of the law, he betook himself to those 
 tasks of literature on which much of his livelihood 
 depended. In one of those temporary revulsions 
 against his profession, he had abjured Blackstone, 
 or some of the other tomes which he had been 
 reading, and refreshed his wearied spirit with a 
 more congenial study, by embodying his vague 
 thoughts in poetical composition ; but his verse 
 flowed in a rugged channel, and bespoke the de- 
 sultory nature of his attempt ; it was as follows : 
 
 THE EDUCATION OF MEDEA. 
 
 Medea read with rapt enquiring eye, 
 While yet a child, the aspects of the sky ; 
 Marked, as the stars renewed and dimmed their glow, 
 What fruits and blossoms earth disclosed below, 
 What scaly tribes came numerous to the shore, 
 As village maids the rose or daisy wore ; 
 How, as the moon her varying light displayed, 
 The virgin's cheek was wont to flush or fade ; 
 And saw the sight of scars, on shield or mail, 
 Controul the tenor of the warrior's tale. 
 
 As reason ripen'd, and experience taught 
 To sift the fancy from the juster thought, 
 She traced her tablet with some curious sign, 
 Index of truth or harmony divine ; 
 And, strange enthusiast ! oft with fervent zeal 
 Before night-worship'd Hecate would kneel : 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 153 
 
 Her glowing breast was by this vigil charmed, 
 Amazement thrilling as devotion warmed. 
 
 Mauvra, high priestess, sternest of the train, 
 That fired the altars for the midnight slain, 
 With awful lore and mystic lecture strove 
 To win her service for the sacred groye. 
 
 When Thetis barred the golden gates of light, 
 And all the troubled Euxine rolled in night, 
 Rapt in her tower, which crowned a lofty steep, 
 And far o'erlooked the dark wreck-tossing deep, 
 The fraudful Mauvra taught the royal maid 
 Appalling rites that guilty spirits aid ; 
 And ever, as the mariners afar 
 Beheld her light, a red malignant star, 
 They smote their bosoms, and despairing cried, 
 " To-night for us the wave-horsed furies ride !" 
 For still the sorceress, deep in omens versed, 
 Her spells before impending storms rehearsed. 
 
 With grief Aetas saw his pensive child 
 Estrang'd from all by sapience dark and wild, 
 And calFd Kalos, a sage of gentle art, 
 To check the petrifaction of her heart. 
 
 By him informed, she learns with new surprise, 
 How moral nature forms the social ties 
 From sensual instincts, thus Kalos would say : 
 " Affection flows and virtue claims her sway. 
 The tender mother by her babe caress'd, 
 Part of herself, holds fondly to her breast ; 
 Pleased with his lactile food, the infant clings 
 To his first paradise, and drinks the springs. 
 With opening ray his mind discerning soon 
 That smiling woman yields the soothing boon ; 
 The sex alike his infant transport share, 
 Nor knows his mother till he feels her care. 
 The fears and pains that tender care allays, 
 His filial worship to her heart repays ; 
 In graver kindness is the father shown, 
 And hence the reverent friendship of the son. 
 
154 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 " Low at the hearth, with playful children round, 
 Where lays delight, and mystic tales astound, 
 Justice unsought the luscious wealth divides, 
 And confidence, with open breast presides ; 
 The quick-revenged and soon-forgotten wrong 
 But twine the cords that join the joyous throng ; 
 And love fraternal, ere the world can harm, 
 Deep in the bosom nestles close and warm. 
 
 " The slighter intimates of riper age 
 In due degrees the partial heart engage ; 
 For man, a being finite, frail, and vain, 
 Can few within his small embrace contain ; 
 And oft, by gusts of furious passion driven, 
 Breaks from the blest gregarian chain of heaven. 
 Hence public law, the comprehensive plan, 
 Drawn from the hearth, would link the race of man ; 
 But curs'd or honouc'd with a double life, 
 The mental and corporeal still at strife, 
 We draw the maxims with a false pretence, 
 Still for the pleasures of the corporal sense, 
 Still to uphold the gorgeous dome secure, 
 The cause which makes and tempts to guilt the poor." 
 
 So taught the sage ; but oft the musing maid, 
 By the strange genius of her childhood swayed, 
 With wayward questions marred his thought and theme, 
 Nor mark'd the use while pondering on the scheme. 
 Thus to herself, perplexed in thought she says, 
 " Why reigns this concord, and what influence sways 1 
 All things seem part of one consistent plan 
 All but the mind, the mental part of man ; 
 The self-same instinct that Kalos reveals 
 The homeless prowler of the desert feels ; 
 The fiercest tiger o'er her brindled young 
 As kindly purs as e'er fond mother sung, 
 And all the progenies of savage blood 
 As joyous gambol as the human brood ; 
 Yet when matured, to vague adventures prone, 
 They part, and each to each no more is known. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 155 
 
 But why should man alone so strangely prove, 
 The sense of justice and enduring love 1 
 'T is thought, that energy which nothing bounds, 
 Which gives a god-like power to breathe sounds, 
 Fixed in the breast, it yet expanding flies, 
 Ranges the earth, and mounts into the skies 
 Mysterious faculty ! when fails the frame, 
 Dost thou depart, as from the lamp the flame 1" 
 
 One sunny morning, as she chanced to rove 
 Beneath the aisles and arches of a grove, 
 Beside the margin of a brook that played 
 Through tangling brambles devious in the glade, 
 She saw intent an ancient beldame view 
 The mossy fringe for simples fresh with dew ; 
 Her rustic garb, though homely tissue, showed 
 Superior art, and pure as winter glowed ; 
 The broidered hem, enrich'd with tinting juice, 
 Shone bright and various from the floral hues ; 
 A basket pendant from a bough obtains 
 The fragrant antidotes of ails and pains. 
 Pleased with Yebrika's mild maternal air, 
 And neat attire, advanced the enquiring fair. 
 
 From her she learnt the aspects of disease 
 To know the crisis, and what plants appease ; 
 For yet by words of unimpressive breath 
 She knew of sickness and all-hushing death ; 
 But now with sad anxiety desires 
 To see the moment when the life retires 
 How fades the ray in the soul-lighted eye, 
 When age or anguish heaves the final sigh. 
 
 With pride Yebrika leads, her skill to show, 
 Medea, trembling, to the house of woe. 
 
 Stretched on his couch, and mournful friends around, 
 With life's last lingering throe a youth she found ; 
 On his pale cheek a rosy hectic plays, 
 His eye slow-setting glitters as it rays : 
 
156 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 One wasted hand lies powerless by his side, 
 
 Grasped is the other by his widowed bride, 
 
 With sorrow frantic ; still she strives to gain 
 
 One conscious look of love, but strives in vain. 
 
 With folded hands the mourning mother near, 
 
 " My last, my all !" exclaims, nor sheds a tear : 
 
 The father, calmly bending o'er the head, 
 
 Weeps as he gazes on the stiffening dead : 
 
 The princess kneeling at the feet appears, 
 
 In her right hand a shining lamp appears, 
 
 The steady flame her ruby left conceals, 
 
 And with soft shade her eager visage veils. 
 
 Apart Yebrika marks with awed surprise 
 
 The searching ardour of Medea's eyes ; 
 
 A feeble sigh conveys the soul away ; 
 
 Death takes possession of the conquered clay, 
 
 And the sad relatives in silence led, 
 
 With covered faces leave the dismal bed : 
 
 Medea rising, smiles content, serene, 
 
 Resigns her lamp, and passes from the scene ; 
 
 All night she walks ; and wakeful round the hearth 
 
 Her maids sit wondering, and refrain from mirth ; 
 
 Nor, when the morning with its cheerful light 
 
 Broke up the dull monotony of night, 
 
 Were hushed her steps, but oft they, curious, heard 
 
 Her breathing short by rapture strangely stirred. 
 
 " Ye parted spirits of mankind," she cried, 
 
 " Where in what region do you now reside 1 
 
 Or haunt ye, viewless, still the stage of life, 
 
 And see our sin, our sorrow, and our strife 1 
 
 In social intercourse, say, do you move, 
 
 Or all in solitary silence rove ! 
 
 Or rise ye brightening to the blest abodes, 
 
 Forget the world and mingle with the gods? 
 
 O, that some gentle messenger would come 
 
 To tell your office and reveal your home ! 
 
 Is there no art, no pharmacy sublime, 
 
 To charm a parted spirit back to time 1 
 
 To mend the ruins of the mortal cell ! 
 
 And with sweet incense lure it back to dwell V 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 157 
 
 As when a youth, in some green vale remote, 
 First climbs the mountains round his native cot, 
 Surprised, he sees the opening view unfold, 
 Towers perched on cliffs, and steeples tipped with gold ; 
 The palace-dome white o'er the dusky wood, 
 Towns gaily mirrored in the bridged flood ; 
 The spiry city in the sunshine bright, 
 And the blue ocean boundless to the sight, 
 Where stately vessels, wafted by the gale 
 To climes unknown beyond the headland sail ; 
 Quick beats his bosom, and delighted still, 
 He climbs untired the world-disclosing hill ; 
 So on Medea widening knowledge wrought, 
 And each new wonder new incitement brought. 
 
 As he finished his poem, Mr. Villiers entered. It 
 was at an unusual hour, but, considering their in- 
 timacy, not particularly remarkable. There was 
 on his aspect, however, an ominous cloud ; and 
 although his speech announced nothing of what it 
 boded, still he could not be seen without awaken- 
 ing an apprehension of fear and curiosity. 
 
 Troven, although awed by his appearance, did 
 not affect to notice the gloom in his look, but gave 
 the manuscript into his hand, and requested him 
 to look at it. 
 
 "It is but a trifle/' said he ; " but as I must 
 now soon be called to the bar, it is necessary to 
 provide for that event as well as I can." 
 
 " Poetry !" said Villiers, taking the manuscript, 
 " I fear you will reap but a scanty harvest if you 
 cultivate that field ; poetry belongs to the age of 
 acrostics and strange tricks, in overcoming the 
 difficulties of using words in rhyme ; for at least 
 the half of my life I have looked at verse-making 
 
158 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 as an art analogous to arranging figures in arith- 
 metic, of which the sum may be predicted. It is 
 a thriftless art ; nothing can be said in it better 
 than in prose, and the artificial twang twang of the 
 verse belongs to a fashion that I suspect has gone 
 by. No lady now sews the likeness of tapestry, 
 and I am inclined to think they are but secondary 
 characters who trouble themselves with versifica- 
 tion. How long would you have been writing the 
 thoughts in this poem, had you made use of prose 
 and refrained from seeking rhymes ?" 
 
 " It is not," said Troven, " very easy to answer 
 that question ; I do not think the subject could at 
 all have been treated otherwise than in verse ; it 
 would have been stale, flat, and unprofitable, had 
 it been written in prose/' 
 
 " Unprofitable, I believe you," said Mr. Villiers; 
 " but if it could not have been treated in prose, it 
 was not worth the time you have spent on it. 
 Every theme that deserves attention, is fitted for 
 prose : it is only a substitution of words for 
 thoughts, when you prefer verse : prose is more- 
 over, the touchstone of all subjects : ideas may 
 seem very well in verse, but they are fused when 
 put into prose, and the dross floats uppermost : 
 not that I object to poetry, though I do to verse. 
 Poetry is a gift from heaven ; an endowment from 
 nature ; something high and refined, like the view- 
 less perfume of the rose, or the strain of melody : 
 but verse-grinding is a mechanical art. I would 
 as soon believe it to be the beautiful and holy es- 
 sence of divine poesy, the voice and accent of 
 angels, as the turning of a hand organ the faculty 
 and skill of Mara." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 159 
 
 " Come, come/' said Troven, " a truce, at pre- 
 sent with these reflections, something has set your 
 mind awry, and you will see, while the fit lasts, 
 nothing excellent in nature." 
 
 " You are right," said Villiers : " nothing in 
 this world gives me much pleasure, though we are 
 all formed to be of it. Ah, yes, there is a degree 
 of light that gives me pleasure, more dazzles, and 
 less is uncertain. What a pity that such delicious 
 splendour is ever precarious." 
 
 " I do not exactly understand you," said Tro- 
 ven, " you speak as mystically as a prophetess, and 
 yet there is no meaning in the oracle." 
 
 " It may be so," said Villiers; " perhaps it is; 
 but to pass that topic by. Have you seen the 
 woman Tomlins of late, and is your faith unshaken 
 in what she told you ?" 
 
 " Not very lately ; but I am still disposed to 
 credit much of her story." 
 
 " Do you not credit it all ?" 
 
 " Why, I should say that I have no reason to 
 doubt any part of it, but I cannot say upon re- 
 flection it sounds all solid." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so ; you will be the 
 less disappointed if it should turn out false." 
 
 " What makes you say so ?" 
 
 " If you had seen her lately I do not know," 
 said Villiers, " how I should have felt ; but pardon 
 me, I will tell you something." 
 
 Troven, at this, stooped eagerly forward, while 
 the other said 
 
 " Is it not singular that no answer of any kind 
 was sent to your advertisement." 
 
 " I own it is, very ; and my mind has had mis- 
 
160 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 givings ; it was in consequence of them that I gave 
 you such a guarded answer. But what is the drift 
 of your questions ?" 
 
 " We have but reached," said Villiers, " the 
 proper time to reply. I met the woman this after^ 
 noon ; she did not appear at first to recollect me ; 
 but I stopped her, and made myself known." 
 
 " Well ; and what then ?" 
 
 " Her conduct was very strange ; she appeared 
 to have little recollection of her son, who, by-the- 
 bye, must now be coming home ; and yet she had 
 a very distinct recollection of you ; and then she 
 began to tell your story, in which she wandered far 
 from the point, and related a tale, that in many of 
 its incidents bore no resemblance to her former 
 confession." 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " In sooth, Troven, I am sadly shaken in my 
 faith in her ; I suspect that much of the story was 
 a fabrication." 
 
 " It may have been," replied Troven, thought- 
 fully ; " but I was certainly left on the common 
 as she described." 
 
 " True," replied Villiers ; " in that there is no 
 change ; but her narrative is obscure, and not at 
 all so consistent as her former tale." 
 
 Troven added, as it were, in soliloquy 
 
 " Why do I believe in this uncertainty ? Why 
 am I thus prompted to a vain pursuit ? If those 
 who are interested in me felt as I feel, they would 
 be as eager to have their curiosity gratified as I am." 
 
 He then turned round to Villiers, and said, as if 
 he mocked his peculiar lore but he was at the 
 time greatly serious 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 161 
 
 " All day I have had a sense upon me of some 
 impending misfortune. Nothing has touched me 
 yet ; but the shadow of the lowering falls black 
 and cold upon my sense, and I have struggled to 
 escape from the fancies it has given rise to." 
 
 " I am, my dear Troven, greatly concerned for 
 you," cried Villiers : " you are involved in a di- 
 lemma that is almost a misfortune ; but be yet of 
 good cheer. It is, however, very strange that your 
 advertisement fell still-born from the press, and it 
 is afflicting, yea alarming, that the woman so pre- 
 varicates in her story. I have thought much about 
 you, and I see nothing in your power to do, but 
 to suspend all other cares, and devote yourself to 
 discover what is concealed by the mystery around 
 you." 
 
 " If it were worth while," said Troven ; " but 
 my relatives, whoever they are, care little for me, 
 and I begin to think I should be equally careless 
 about them." 
 
 " That," said Villiers, " is only a passing cloud; 
 you could not, if you would, resign the anxiety 
 which you suffer. The truth is the truth ; and be- 
 cause its doubtfulness occupies so much of your 
 reflections, the sooner it is ascertained the better." 
 
 " There is something good in that," said Troven; 
 " but I do not perceive in what way any enquiry 
 will serve me now." 
 
 " Now," cried Villiers, " would it not serve you 
 to find your friends, and them in opulence, and 
 willing to help you ?" 
 
 " Yes," said he, " that would be a great dis- 
 covery, and appease many an hour of sore anxiety ; 
 but if the discovery should lead me to ascertain 
 
 VOL. IV. M 
 
162 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 that I am in truth no better than the beggar brat 
 who was found upon the common " 
 
 " Hope better things," said Villiers ; " that sen- 
 timent belongs to me, and but for your thought- 
 fulness I would have used it. But tell me why you 
 say now ?" 
 
 " Did I say so ? then it was my spirit that spoke 
 unconsciously. I have no more cause to use that 
 word than I have ever had ; but it is late, Mr. 
 Villiers ; I will see you early in the morning, and 
 shall have reflected by then on what I ought to 
 do." 
 
 Villiers rose, at these words, from his seat, and 
 shook him with more than ordinary cordiality by 
 the hand ; but Troven remarked that he was still 
 invested with that air of dismay which he had first 
 noticed ; and as he bade him good night, he ex- 
 claimed to himself as he shut the doors 
 
 " Gracious ! what can have been the prevarica- 
 tion of that woman ? for it is only her speech that 
 has so affected him." 
 
 He then returned to his chair ; and after sitting 
 some time in silence, retired for the night, 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 163 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 SLEEP fled from the pillow of Troven, and he could 
 not controul his thoughts, which were all the night 
 busy with conjectures. An apparition of Mrs. 
 Tomlins haunted him : her story was singular, but 
 it tallied with his ; nothing, in all his life, had so 
 disturbed him ; for, although Mr. Villiers had 
 spoken of it as no very extraordinary thing, there 
 was an impression upon him which she had as- 
 sisted in producing, at once solemn and discon- 
 solate. It is thus that at times we are affected 
 with our own efforts to discover the truth, and 
 they never fail to make us in the end dissatisfied : 
 we feel, as it were, like a dog on the outside of a 
 glass window - we see all within, yet we conceive 
 ourselves under an interdict of the nature of a 
 charm. 
 
 Immediately after breakfast he went to Mr. Vil- 
 liers' chambers, and told him very frankly how 
 restless had been the night, and his groping after 
 conjectures that eluded his grasp. 
 
 " I do not say," he exclaimed, " that I have 
 wasted my strength in a vain endeavour to catch 
 M 2 
 
164 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 the truth, but I am laden with a depressing pre- 
 sentiment." 
 
 Villiers, by this time, was more master of him- 
 self than he appeared on the preceding evening. 
 
 " I will not disguise from you," said he, " that 
 I was exceedingly molested last night. That 
 odious woman called on me in the evening with 
 an unmotherly obscurity in her remembrance of 
 her poor son, and had exceedingly provoked me. 
 How she imagined that I would exercise any influ- 
 ence over you for her behoof, cannot be divined ; 
 but she told me an unintelligible story, which she 
 meant I should substitute for the tale she had re- 
 lated to you, and, if I had been less interested in 
 the event, perhaps I might have done so, only 
 there was an effort to make out that she was more 
 your friend than we have any reason to believe ; 
 and stated that the child, being left alone on the 
 common, was an accident never intended, and has, 
 ever since, sat heavy on her conscience : from 
 which I infer, that she has obtained some know- 
 ledge that you are no other than the stolen child, 
 and that she deprecates your resentment." 
 
 " It is an entangled story," said our hero, 
 " and conjecture leads to no issue ; but I agree 
 with you that she must have heard something of 
 what you say, and is paving the way to fasten her- 
 self upon me. What can she have heard? All 
 that I can make out from her tale is, that some 
 other person of her sordid rank is acquainted with 
 my story !" 
 
 " I think so too," said Villiers : " who can it 
 be ? But take courage from it, for it brings you 
 nearer the goal of your wishes. We must find 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 165 
 
 out how she has imagined that you are the child 
 she wandered on the common." 
 
 Villiers would have said more, but he was inter- 
 rupted by a knocking at the door, and, rising to 
 see who was there, ushered in a portly, good-con- 
 ditioned parson. As soon as he came to the light, 
 Troven sprung up and exclaimed, " Dr. Wy- 
 combe !" 
 
 Mutual greetings then took place ; he was in 
 search of our hero's chambers, and, by mistake, 
 had come to the door of Villiers, but the encounter 
 set all right. 
 
 After enquiries and congratulations, the old man 
 seemed a little restrained and awkward, and, at 
 last, he proposed to call at another hour, when he 
 and Troven could be together. 
 
 Troven, who had never any particular predilec- 
 tion for the Doctor, said at once that Villiers was 
 his friend. 
 
 At all times very stately in his phraseology, the 
 Doctor delivered a compliment to Mr. Villiers in 
 terms that would have done honour to Dr. John- 
 son, and, turning to Troven, said 
 
 " It will surprise you, Mr. Troven, although these 
 are the holidays, that I should confess my main er- 
 rand, in coming now to the metropolis, has been to 
 see you. Do you know Mr. Troven, that, within these 
 few days, five is the utmost, I have been molested, 
 astonished, and am beginning to be confounded 
 by a strange woman, asking amazing interrogations 
 at our door. She was not a lady I should be 
 most blameable to assert that she had aught of that 
 consequence about her : she wore a straw bonnet 
 deteriorated by age ; a red cloak, which bore the 
 
166 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 marks of a gift about it ; shoes that were in a state 
 of dilapidation ; and stockings, if I do not mistake, 
 she had none at all." 
 
 " It is Mrs. Tomlins," said Villiers ; " her bonnet 
 and her cloak attest the fact." 
 
 " You are right," replied the Doctor; " Tom- 
 lins is her name, and she is addicted to snuff." 
 
 " My dear Doctor," saidTroven, " what has all 
 this to do with me ?" 
 
 " Patience, young man, patience ; I will relate 
 the whole as it happened, but give me time. This 
 woman enquired if I had any recollection of a 
 child being many years ago found wandering on 
 the heath. At that instant a flash of light burst 
 into my brain, and I thought of you. Then I told 
 her who was sobbing very audibly as she put the 
 question, that I had found you myself; that you 
 had been educated at the expense of Mr. Pearl, 
 who had completed your education at Oxford ; 
 that you were now in London studying the law ; 
 and that, if you could afford it, you would make 
 a handsome compliment to whomsoever would dis- 
 close your parentage. But just as I enunciated 
 these truths, somehow she, with a strange evasion, 
 escaped out of the room, and I have searched in 
 vain to find in what direction the apparition has 
 fled ; for, as it happened to be a wet day, I was 
 sitting in my slippers, and, before I could get my 
 shoes, she was off, and for ever evaded." 
 
 Troven made no answer to this oration, but 
 looked expressively to Villiers, and the Doctor 
 proceeded 
 
 " After a vain attempt to find why she had fled, 
 I became, on your account, much perplexed, and 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 167 
 
 Mrs. Wycombe, calling to mind that it was the 
 holidays, suggested to me that I ought to go to 
 you at once in London and communicate what I 
 had discovered." 
 
 " I am," replied Troven, who was acquainted 
 with the pompous nothings in which the Doctor in- 
 dulged "I am greatly obliged to you ; and what 
 is the discovery that you have made ?" 
 
 Villiers could scarcely preserve his gravity, and 
 turned aside to conceal his disposition to laugh ; 
 but the Doctor reddened at the question, and 
 said 
 
 ^ You are, I see, the same youth you were of 
 old ; what could you expect after eighteen years 
 a woman with a mantle of scarlet enquiring for 
 you at my door ? Depend upon 't it was a porten- 
 tous sight, and betokened something that is to 
 come to pass." 
 
 Troven saw that he had trodden with more se- 
 verity than he intended on the Doctor's corns, and 
 backed out as well as he could, saying- 
 
 " Your information, Doctor, is the more worthy 
 of attention, as it coincides with some intelligence 
 that has been puzzling us exceedingly ; last night 
 the self-same woman, whom you have described, 
 called on my friend Mr. Villiers here, and surprised 
 him by her knowledge of me. We could not con- 
 jecture where she had received her intelligence, 
 which was greatly to the point." 
 
 The air in which this was said had the effect of 
 alleviating the Doctor's bristles, and he con- 
 tinued 
 
 " Upon the counselling of Mrs. Wycombe came 
 I to London ; for clear it is, that the discovery of 
 
168 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 yourself is near at hand, and fitting it is that I 
 should be upon the spot : for if it chance that 
 you are proved to be one whom we all have 
 ever thought, nothing less could be expected from 
 me." 
 
 The Doctor, having delivered himself, had very 
 little to say more. Troven, however, was obliged 
 to him ; for, in this instance, he had shown more 
 heart and disinterested activity than he had given 
 him credit for ; and concluded by proposing that 
 they should meet in the afternoon, at the Mitre and 
 dine together. 
 
 " I shall just," said he, " step to my book- 
 seller's in the Row, and order the books wanted 
 in the school next year ; for I have heard that two 
 or three new ones have been printed, and I have 
 come to London to see if they will suit." 
 
 Thus cancelling the obligation he had con- 
 ferred, by forgetting that he had just before said 
 it was only on Troven's account he had come to 
 London. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 169 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 IN the interval between the time when Dr.Wycombe 
 had called at Mr. Villiers's chambers and the hour 
 appointed for dinner at the Mitre, our hero went to 
 Mrs. Servit's. He always felt towards her a filial 
 respect, and he had much to communicate con- 
 cerning himself and the arrival of the Doctor in 
 town. 
 
 On reaching her lodgings, he found her dressed , 
 and preparing to go to his chambers ; but on seeing 
 him she desisted. 
 
 " Come away," said she; "I have been just out 
 of the body to see you, and could no more sit still 
 on my seat than a pea remain quiet in a frying-pan. 
 Do you know that there has been a randy woman 
 in a red cloak, well-awaying, as she said, with an 
 awakened conscience ; and, as sure as the sun's in 
 the heavens, she has had some hand in wandering 
 you when you were a helpless bairn." 
 
 " Indeed," said Troven, desirous to hear what 
 she had to say, and affecting no knowledge of the 
 woman, though the red cloak settled her identity. 
 
 "Aye," said Mrs. Servit ; " and she came to this 
 
170 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 house, little dreaming who was in it, and told her 
 tale in a very penitent manner." 
 
 "What did she say?" replied Troven ; " and 
 how came she here ?" 
 
 " As for her coming here," said Mrs. Servit, 
 " that's a question among divines ; but what she 
 said had really something very like a slake of truth 
 in it ; and if it be not true, I know not what a 
 matter of fact is. Howsomever, seeing her in great 
 distress, and pricked in the conscience, I invited 
 her into the room, never letting wot who I was, 
 and had a very solid and satisfactory conversation 
 with her. Hech, sirs ! but they have a sore time 
 o't who have a troubled conscience." 
 
 " And what did she tell you ?" 
 
 " Tell me ! I'm no sure that I heard with my own 
 ears; but she told me, as sure as death, that on the 
 day and date that Dr. Wycombe found you cast 
 away on our common, she left, by need of straits, 
 a neighbour's child upon the heath ; and, once 
 away, always away she could not recover it, 
 though she had been down in the country to see if 
 it was a thing held in remembrance there ; for her 
 conscience was as if it had been threshed with a 
 rod of iron. Now, was it not a very wonderful 
 thing how, in all this town of London, she was di- 
 rected to me ? The hand of Providence is plainly 
 in it, otherwise that could never have been." 
 
 " If it was by chance," said Troven, " it is very 
 wonderful." 
 
 " Can you doubt it ?" said Mrs. Servit ; " there 
 was she sobbing and sighing, and pat to the point 
 in every thing she said." 
 
 " But how did it all end ?" 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 171 
 
 " I was in a fluster/' said Mrs. Servit, " from the 
 moment she spoke of our village and the wandered 
 bairn ; and I know not very well what I said ; but, 
 quo' she, a reverend doctor told her all about it, 
 and how the child, meaning you, was learning law 
 in this town, which was most distinct, was it not?" 
 
 " Well, but what was the result ?" said Troven, 
 beginning, by this time, to be a little impatient. 
 
 " I'll tell you : seeing the woman of a contrite 
 spirit, I told her to come back in the evening, 
 when I would have more leisure ; but I said nothing 
 of you, for in this jeopardy I thought that I should 
 keep my thumb upon that till I heard what you 
 would advise." 
 
 It requires no particular exposition to show that 
 Mrs. Tomlins was now eager in the pursuit of the 
 parentage of the child whom she had herself stolen. 
 
 Observant men have noticed the providential 
 coming together of persons interested in the doom 
 of one another, by which curious issues are brought 
 about. Life, indeed, consists of numberless dramas, 
 each of which is winded up by the fate of some in- 
 dividual ; all play not first-rate parts, but are sub- 
 servient to the fortunes of those that do ; and it 
 may be of some use to such as do not look much 
 at the real world to know the existence of this cu- 
 rious arrangement. 
 
 But to resume our story. There was no acci- 
 dent, as Mrs. Servit had conceived, in Mrs. Tom- 
 lins calling upon her ; she had learned, in the ex- 
 pedition which terminated in her interview with 
 Dr. Wycombe, that the child she was in quest of 
 had been brought up by Mr. Pearl, and that, al- 
 though he was dead, yet Mrs. Servit was alive and 
 
172 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 residing in London. This led her to obtain the 
 address, and accounts for the interview of which 
 Mrs. Servit has related the particulars. But the 
 sudden alertness of the woman in her pursuit of 
 the stolen child was inexplicable. From the period 
 that she left it on the common, she had never 
 thought of it till after the arrest of her son, and it 
 could not be traced in what manner, by that inci- 
 dent, she was induced to make any enquiry. Yet 
 we find she did : we find also that she did not ap- 
 pear to feel as mothers do for her son ; she up- 
 braided him, even in prison, for his inexpertness as 
 a thief, and she again reverted to the same awk- 
 wardness when before Troven at his chambers. 
 When Villiers procured him a situation on ship- 
 board, she parted with him without regret, or ra- 
 ther with a grudge, that by leaving the country he 
 would be no longer useful to her as an agent. 
 She was, indeed, a depraved woman, and had 
 spent her life in a state that may be described as 
 made up only of different shades of iniquity, like 
 some females that may be met with in London, 
 who, after the bloom of beauty has departed, sur- 
 vive in wretchedness, but know not the stings of 
 misery. 
 
 Her origin was not known, but her education 
 had evidently been conducted with care : she spoke 
 a language far above her condition, and amidst the 
 moral garbage, as it may be called, of her conduct, 
 a degree of taste sometimes glittered out from 
 among a deplorable mixture of the coarsest associ- 
 ations. She was, indeed, a lost one ; how she 
 came to be such an outcast, could not be known ; 
 and, in consequence, there was a mystery about 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 173 
 
 her, arising solely from the silence which she pre- 
 served respecting her early life, that could never 
 be fathomed a blot upon the world, as much as 
 human nature could be a dreadful being ; for it 
 was sometimes traced in her conduct that she was 
 actuated by an intent to be worse than she could 
 be. But still, with all this, she was human not 
 more so, however, than in appearance she resem- 
 bled the virtuous and the fair who adorn society. 
 
 Soon after the departure of her son, she was 
 seized with the mania to discover Troven, in the 
 manner described. Whether it was to supply 
 some want she felt in the absence of him who as- 
 sisted to provide for her by his dishonest courses, 
 or from that self-indulgence which prompted her 
 to many unaccountable things, cannot now be as- 
 certained ; but it so happened, that at this very 
 time she was so seized induced by the sudden 
 hunger of curiosity, part of that impetuous cha- 
 racter which led her in all things to the immediate 
 gratification of her desires. Indeed, with this un- 
 fortunate woman actions sprung not from motives, 
 but from impulses she did not consider the effect 
 of her conduct, but only her own enjoyment in 
 the act. 
 
 Beyond the discovery of what had become of the 
 child, she had at first no other purpose to serve 
 than to satisfy a longing desire. She as suddenly 
 gave up the pursuit. She was, in fact, one of 
 those persons who, whatever their pursuit may be, 
 act with surprising fervour, and obtain a credit for 
 zeal, although it is a blind animal impulse. It 
 does not often happen that persons of a wild and 
 reckless disposition show themselves in this light ; 
 
174 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 but, nevertheless, they may be seen, and busy 
 about the attainment of that which, when they 
 possess, they appear to set no value upon. It is, 
 however, no part of our intricate story to speak of 
 Mrs. Tomlins' aberrations ; she is but an incidental 
 character ; nor would it much delight the reader, 
 pleased to contemplate the sunny side of human 
 nature, to record her errors. Let it, therefore, 
 suffice, that, whether from disease or passion, her 
 mind was in everlasting thrall ; and, perhaps, on 
 some other occasion, we may have an opportunity 
 of depicting one as much under the influences of 
 sense, and yet seemingly as much governed by the 
 influences of the understanding. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 175 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IT was now evident that at this juncture there was 
 a strange tendency in many things, to effect the 
 discovery of Troven's birth, and we pass over in 
 a hasty manner, amusing occurrences, that but for 
 the pressure of these circumstances, we should re- 
 joice to relate. Among others, therefore, that we 
 can only allude to in our rapid narrative, is the 
 dinner at the Mitre with Dr. Wycombe, from which, 
 owing to the incidents of the day, our hero and 
 Villiers prematurely found it necessary to rise and 
 go to the chambers of the latter, where they ex- 
 pected the outcast to call. 
 
 It was a drizzly evening, not exactly a wetting 
 palpable rain, but one in which no person stirs 
 abroad who is not incited by business or care ; 
 the sky was hazy, and the smoky canopy of Lon- 
 don made the air opaquely obscure ; the spirits par- 
 took of the universal dullness of nature, and the 
 conversation between our hero and Villiers, while 
 waiting for Mrs. Tomlins, was heavy and with no 
 particular object. At last a gentle knocking was 
 heard at the door. 
 
176 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 " Here she is," said Villiers, rising to give ad- 
 mission ; but on opening it, instead of Mrs. Tom- 
 lins, a much older person, small of stature, and of a 
 grotesque appearance, surprized him in her place. 
 
 " I come/' said she, "from Mrs. Tomlins, whose 
 illness has encreased, and the night being unwhole- 
 some, she cannot wait upon you, and, therefore, 
 would be glad if you would come to her." 
 
 The messenger, aged and singular, would have 
 attracted attention, even had she not delivered her 
 message with a degree of neatness that was in strik- 
 ing contrast with the meanness of her dress. 
 
 Instead of immediately answering, Villiers looked 
 round to Troven, who, with a glance expressed his 
 surprise, and especially at the bold equality of the 
 request. Villiers then desired the old woman to 
 walk into the room and sit down, but she declined 
 the invitation with an air of some dignity, notwith- 
 standing her small stature and beggarly appear- 
 ance. 
 
 " Has Mrs. Tomlins," said Villiers, " been long 
 unwell ?" 
 
 The old woman replied, " For some time before 
 she went into the country ; and her disease has 
 been growing ever since." 
 
 " Where does she live ?" said Troven. 
 
 " I have come to conduct Mr. Villiers to her 
 lodgings, for without a guide he would not easily 
 find them." 
 
 " This gentleman," said Villiers, pointing to 
 Troven, " will go with me, and we will accompany 
 you immediately." 
 
 Instead of making him any answer, the old wo- 
 man really graciously signified her acquiescence ; 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 177 
 
 and immediately the gentlemen went with her, a 
 good deal amazed at the style of her behaviour, 
 which was that of a lady at once easy and 
 guarded. In fact the old woman had been origi- 
 ginally in a sphere that seemed to preclude the 
 humiliation into which she had fallen. In her 
 youthful years she had been the very minion of her 
 society, but she had stooped to folly ; and having 
 long survived all attractions and beauty, was now 
 the landlady of the outcast. 
 
 She conducted Villiers and Troven to a wretched 
 ruinous dwelling, in the neighbourhood of where 
 Hungerford-market now stands ; and having shown 
 them into a sorry garret where, on a humble pal- 
 let, the invalid was lying, she, with equal tact and 
 superiority withdrew, leaving them with Mrs. Tom- 
 lins. 
 
 The gloom of the apartment prevented them 
 from being very distinctly seen, but the sick wo- 
 man, raising herself on her bed, enquired of Mr. 
 Villiers, who went straight towards her, who it 
 was he had brought with him. Perhaps most peo- 
 ple in this situation, would have equivocated in the 
 answer, but he replied at once, with his character- 
 istic frankness, that it was Mr. Troven, whom she 
 had been so anxious to see. She then added, 
 
 " You have done well to bring him, for I fear 
 that I have not long to live, a change has been 
 working with me for some time, and cannot long be 
 withstood. I loath myself, but I must suppress the 
 feeling." 
 
 Something in the tone with which she said this, 
 was exceedingly affecting, and Villiers, without 
 very exactly estimating his own words ? replied, 
 
 VOL. IV. N 
 
178 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 that he was sorry to see her so ill, but hoped that 
 her indisposition was only temporary. 
 
 She said : 
 
 " You speak the parlance of the world ; you 
 have no hope in the matter ; how should you ? 
 What is there in the world to me that I should 
 have any desire to live ?" 
 
 Villiers said nothing, but sat down on a chair 
 at her pillow, and our hero drew another to the 
 foot of the bed, and sat down also. The little 
 bustle which this movement occasioned interrupted 
 her, but when the gentlemen were seated, she 
 resumed : 
 
 " You have not come to a penitent," said she, 
 " for what is the use of that ? Can any repentance 
 restore me to what I was ? No, I am a wretch ! 
 and such I will die." 
 
 Villiers, with somewhat more levity in his accent 
 than Troven was quite prepared for, said, 
 
 " I have not come to be a father confessor : tell 
 what you have to say that you think interesting 
 to me ; I have brought Mr. Troven to hear it." 
 
 " Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. Tomlins, "have you had 
 such experience of life, that you make so light of 
 existence ?" and giving a kind of convulsive sob, 
 she wildly added, 
 
 " I was first sickened at the moral leprosy with 
 which I am encrusted, by seeing that my son 
 would, but for my lessons, have been a good man. 
 His natural virtue put my depravity to shame'; had 
 he been a bold, free-hearted, reprobate, his mother 
 would have jbeen pleased ; but I saw in him, living 
 still, the seeds of good, and for that I began to 
 hate him." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 179 
 
 "This is wild discourse;" said Villiers, "what 
 have you to tell me ?" 
 
 " Nothing, nothing, of what I was, but this : I 
 would have quenched all good, because nought of 
 it could again be mine. That poltroon ! but I will 
 not speak of him to you. Oh, Sir ! I have a 
 mother's heart, but it is in the devil's grasp." 
 
 In uttering these words she bent her face upon 
 his hand, and gave way to a feminine and mater- 
 nal flood of tears, after which she exclaimed : 
 
 " I will no longer with my fate contend : there is 
 a spring in this cold, rocky, breast a living water 
 bursting forth : from the hour my son upbraided 
 me as the parent of his guilt, I have struggled to 
 resist the truth, and tried to pluck his image from 
 my heart, but disease has softened my nature and 
 made it human. I would not now be damned/' 
 
 Mr. Villiers seemed more affected by her ex- 
 pression than could have been expected from his 
 equanimity, and endeavoured to soothe her ; but it 
 was not until he had long solicited her to composure, 
 that she seemed to feel any disposition to revert 
 again to the fate of Troven, although it was on that 
 business she had required his presence. Whether 
 actual indisposition, or that sudden perturbation of 
 feeling, which sometimes breaks ; upon the most 
 hardened when they are least prepared, had 
 fastened upon this unhappy woman, cannot be de- 
 termined ; but it was quite dark before she was in a 
 condition to speak of Troven's fate, and her disease 
 had encreased so much, that she was often inca- 
 pable of renewing the disclosure. In this pre- 
 dicament both the gentlemen became alarmed, lest 
 in her weakness and agitation she would become 
 N 2 
 
180 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 unable to repeat her confession ; and Villiers, in 
 haste, requested Troven to go for other witnesses, 
 while he took it down in writing. It was fortu- 
 nate that he acted thus ; for before other witnesses 
 could be obtained, she was very ill : however, when 
 they came she understood their purpose, and en- 
 deavoured to repeat the story she had in the first 
 burst of her contrition told to Troven himself. Her 
 mind, however, wandered ; the rack and delirium of 
 incoherent thought took such possession of it, that 
 no consistent narrative could be framed from her 
 raving ; and her disease seemed to augment with 
 her mental convulsions, for her distress deserves 
 no lighter epithet. 
 
 The gentlemen and the witnesses stood round 
 the bed with awe and a feeling of horror, as the 
 light which the old landlady brought into the room 
 revealed the ghastly countenance of the invalid 
 
 Seeing no abatement in the paroxysm they went 
 away, Troven and Villiers intending to call next 
 morning, but when they did, she was no more ; and 
 they were frustrated of the clue which they ex- 
 pected might lead to a discovery. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 181 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE sudden and dismal death of the outcast, be- 
 fore any authentic memorial of the story that she 
 told could be obtained, filled our hero with inex- 
 pressible grief. Even the cheerful temperament of 
 Mrs. Servit was deeply dismayed, and Villiers, 
 though he said nothing, sympathised with her 
 sorrow. 
 
 Much appeared in the narrative of Mrs. Tom- 
 lins, that had inspired them with high hopes ; but 
 these were blighted, and there was in her prevari- 
 cation with Villiers something that barbed to him 
 the pain of disappointment. For some time, in- 
 deed, there was little to be envied in the fate of 
 Troven. His law-suit continued ; but as far as 
 friends taking an interest in his life and endea- 
 vours, his lot was mitigated by the affectionate old 
 lady, and the austere, but increasing, kindness of 
 Villiers. 
 
 At last the time arrived, when Troven could be 
 called to the bar. The only diffidence he felt in 
 taking a step that was to lead to the gates of for- 
 tune and fame, many have experienced, but few so 
 
182 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 keenly. Our hero felt all the peculiar humiliations 
 of his situation with inexpressible anguish. Hope 
 was eclipsed by fear ; and although he did not 
 actually despond, yet the apprehension of being 
 obliged to retire from the portal was ever pre- 
 sent in his mind. To Villiers his painful anxiety 
 was disclosed ; but from others it was concealed, 
 as if too sacred to be profaned. It were, however, 
 a digression from our story to descant on his feel- 
 ings at this time ; the reader can only conceive 
 them who has himself felt them. 
 
 Some time before the eventful day arrived, Vil- 
 liers called on Mrs. Servit, apprehensive that his 
 friend might not have courage to disclose to her 
 how much then her friendship would avail, and told 
 the facts of the case, which however, her kindness 
 had in some degree resolved to anticipate, but she was 
 not aware of the amount required. Villiers himself 
 acknowledged to her his own poverty, but he offer- 
 ed to contribute, as far as his means permitted, to- 
 wards the formation of a sum of money adequate 
 to supply the professional necessities of Troven. 
 She, however, on hearing the amount mentioned, 
 cheerfully undertook the whole, saying 
 
 " I hope he has more sense than to forget how 
 much he is dependent on strangers. What I have 
 he shall freely share ; and if he is prosperous, or 
 discover that he is come of the rich and great, he 
 will repay me ; if he does not thrive, he will also 
 have from me a tear." 
 
 Thus, before the time arrived, the good-hearted 
 Mrs. Servit, seeing him one evening pensive, 
 thought that his condition occupied his medita- 
 tions, and to cheer him disclosed her benevolent 
 
r THE STOLEN CHILD. 183 
 
 intentions. It thus came to pass, that he was 
 quietly called to the bar, and entered upon his 
 professional career. 
 
 But, as it was naturally expected, he had a steep 
 and barren hill to climb. Without connexions he 
 could find no briefs ; and though his literary la- 
 bours found employment for his pen, day after day 
 passed without his legal studies yielding any fruit. 
 He was known, however, in the courts as a young 
 man of superior acquirements ; and -though he was 
 none employed, there was a persuasion in the minds 
 of many, that he was destined to eminence, and 
 his general deportment encreased this presentiment, 
 insomuch, that at last it began to be remarked, with 
 wonder, that he had never made an appearance in 
 any cause. 
 
 We are not sure that in this respect he stood 
 alone ; but certainly there was no one so highly 
 thought of who had so little to do ; but still he 
 wore a cheerful aspect, and all about him bore an 
 impress of worth that fortune could not long with- 
 stand. 
 
 One evening, when he was sitting in his cham- 
 bers alone, in little disposition at the time to write, 
 and ruminating on his friendless condition, which 
 at times he began to think of with more and more 
 sadness, a solicitor in the neighbourhood called 
 upon him abruptly. 
 
 " Mr. Troven," said he, " I have come to you in 
 a way that requires an apology, and yet I know 
 not how to make it. I will tell you, however, the 
 case, and you shall judge of the difficulties in 
 which I am placed." 
 
 " He then related to him the particulars of a 
 
184 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 Chancery suit that had long been existing between 
 two opulent families. 
 
 " Neither of them," said he, " now care much 
 about the result ; but the law-suit is an heir-loom, 
 which they both make a point of honour, without 
 heat, of carrying on to the ultimate decision of the 
 House of Peers. Now, the junior counsel for the 
 defendant is in precarious health ; the case is to 
 be finally heard in the House very soon, and from 
 the state he is in, I am afraid he will be unable to 
 attend there. In this dilemma it has suddenly oc- 
 curred to me, and I have spoken of the matter to 
 him, that we should employ another junior counsel 
 in case of need, but with the understanding, that 
 unless the need arise, he will not be called upon 
 to take any part in the proceedings. With this 
 idea your image was presented to my mind, not as 
 one who would be likely to accept of such an 
 extra-professional engagement, but as the one we 
 ought to try to have." 
 
 " I see," said Troven, " your situation ; and 
 perhaps, if I had more to do, I should be less 
 candid in my answer : in fact, I am sick of hope 
 deferred, and would do any thing not disgrace- 
 ful to get employment, or rather let me say freely, 
 to know what a fee is made of; and, to save you 
 from what I know must be your awkwardness, I 
 say at once that I shall be very glad to be engaged 
 as you propose, and I will not consider the engage- 
 ment of quite so light a nature as your candour 
 leads me to think you expect. I will do my ut- 
 most to make myself master of the case, and will 
 consider it a god-send to be brought forward : so 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 185 
 
 say no more about it, or about the violation of 
 etiquette I am ready, and your man. 
 
 The solicitor was gratified by his alacrity, and 
 doubled the intended fee, carrying with him an 
 agreeable impression of the manners and talents 
 of Troven, regarding which he delighted afterwards 
 to speak : thus from a slight inflection, as it may 
 be called, of professional consequence, Troven 
 secured at once an influential friend, to whom he 
 became subsequently indebted for many favours. 
 
 Soon after the solicitor left him, Villiers called 
 and found him in high spirits with this omen of 
 success. It had been the practice of that way- 
 ward but sterling character to look frequently in 
 upon Troven, and never to part from him without 
 regret that one so endowed by nature, and enriched 
 by study, should pine in neglect, 
 
 " And waste his sweetness on the desert air." 
 
 Troven told him what had happened, and was 
 about to express the mortification that he felt in 
 consenting, in all probability, to play a cipher to 
 one who, though a rising personage, he regarded 
 in many respects as his inferior. 
 
 " Don't fret/' said Villiers, " but thank heaven 
 that your circumstances have constrained you to 
 do a very wise thing. You have been long enough 
 at the bar to know that the world is less guided by 
 ability than interest, and to ascertain that you 
 have nothing to rely upon from connexions. It 
 has so happened, that you have obliged, by your 
 frankness, a very powerful man. This, which was 
 from necessity, had it been from policy, would 
 have been very masterly. Now, all that I have to 
 
186 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 say is, never for a moment think you may not be 
 called upon to speak. Study till your brains, if I 
 may say so, be turned into oil, till you have made 
 yourself master of the case. Think every thing at 
 stake, and leave no stone unturned till you feel 
 yourself in a condition to snap your fingers in the 
 face of the Lord Chancellor : do that, and leave 
 the upshot to Providence ; on my life you will not 
 then fail." 
 
 Troven expressed heartily his thanks for this ju- 
 dicious advice, promising to follow it to the syl- 
 lable. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD, 187 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 BUT although the solicitor treated the cause with 
 indifference, it embraced many interesting points 
 which required skill and eloquence to set forth 
 properly : nor must his conduct be ascribed to in- 
 attention. The parties opposed to each other in 
 the suit were nearly connected, and their efforts 
 were paralyzed by a doubt in their own minds if 
 they were the true heirs. Their luke-warmness in- 
 fected their men of business, and long litigation 
 with their friendly reciprocity had cooled in them, 
 if they had ever felt it, the fervency of enmity ; 
 but from the moment that Troven was so acciden- 
 tally employed in it, it was destined to undergo a 
 change. 
 
 As we have said, he had but little to do : with- 
 out fortune and connections in the world, he had 
 only talents to befriend him : his taste and genius 
 would have led him to cultivate the belles lettres, 
 but studies of that kind were not the fashion of the 
 age ; Hume, and Robertson, of Scotland, had set 
 an example which every one followed, and histo- 
 
188 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 rical disquisitions were the general rage. In this 
 department our hero had so distinguished himself, 
 that he was in great request by the publishers of 
 ephemeral works ; and his natural ability was sa- 
 crificed in the pursuit of studies which, had he 
 been allowed to follow his own bent, would have 
 been but secondary. 
 
 But although his .name is not radiant in the class 
 of literature in which, by endowment, he was cal- 
 culated to shine, the prevalent fashion had given 
 him habits of research which were favourable to 
 his professional career. The studies in which he 
 had found most profit induced predilections that 
 made him an excellent antiquary, and had sharp- 
 ened his faculty of discovering truth when it was 
 deepest hid amidst extraneous rubbish. He there- 
 fore brought to the case a mind prepared with 
 shrewd intelligence, and a patience of disposition, 
 the result of a necessary discipline. 
 
 As this cause was the first in which he had ever 
 been engaged, he resolved, as Villiers had advised, 
 to make himself master of all its incidents, and to 
 find the law which governed them. He was not, 
 however, entirely actuated by professional ambition ; 
 his taste led him to do so judiciously, as he was 
 aware of the value that might arise from his exer- 
 tions. Indeed, the case throughout had been so 
 negligently treated, that its true merits were not 
 known among the lawyers, and Troven himself had 
 no spur to his efforts from celebrity. However, 
 when he received the briefs, and particularly some 
 papers which he required, and which no one before 
 had ever sought, he saw it in a different light. He 
 applied himself, therefore, to the whole subject in 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 189 
 
 an assiduous manner, that can only be accounted 
 for by previous habits, his genius, and the interest 
 of the different circumstances which he had to 
 develope. 
 
 Being* employed for the defendant, his assiduity 
 and enquiries were first directed to investigate 
 the grounds on which the other party conceived 
 they could establish their claim ; and he soon dis- 
 cerned, that his client, without having a clear 
 right to the matter in litigation, had unquestion- 
 ably a colouring from law for the possession he 
 retained; but the claimant, he also soon perceived, 
 had not so good a claim as a third unknown party ; 
 and accordingly he set himself patiently and sharply 
 to prove, that whatever were the defects in the 
 cause of his client, the plaintiff had not a shadow 
 of right to the property while that unknown party 
 was not heard. 
 
 This view of the question had never occurred to 
 any one before ; the parties, the solicitors and the 
 lawyers, thought only of the case before the Court ; 
 none of them considered, at least none of the pro- 
 fessional gentlemen, that the interest of a third 
 party might be a bar to all proceedings. 
 
 Troven having ascertained that a superior right 
 to that by which the defendant held and the plain- 
 tiff drew, might be established by a third party, 
 set his whole mind to work, and interested by so 
 remarkable an incident, collected arguments and 
 illustrations, more than was necessary, not only to 
 a demonstration of the truth, but the fullest satis- 
 faction of feeling. 
 
 With all this labour, which was of the most ab- 
 struse and yet pathetic kind, he had little hope of 
 
190 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 being required to speak. The superior counsel was 
 a man high in the profession, and the junior counsel, 
 though no less able, was, as we have stated, in 
 precarious health ; but Troven found himself greatly 
 excited by the subject; its impressive incidents 
 awakened his attention, and before it was to be 
 heard at the bar of the House of Lords, he had 
 made himself acquainted with its true character, 
 and the infirmities of the opposite party's case. 
 
 At last the day for the hearing came on, and there 
 was a considerable assemblage of Peers on the oc- 
 casion ; for a divorce cause was to be tried after 
 counsel had been heard in the case in which our 
 hero was engaged. Among others present, was 
 Lord Buyborough, the brother of our hero ; and it 
 happened, as it has done in similar cases, that no- 
 thing could be more propitious than the business 
 of the day to attract an intelligent crowd, for it is 
 a curious circumstance, that a divorce case has the 
 effect of bringing down to the House the most re- 
 fined, sentimental, and intelligent part of it. But 
 there seemed no chance that Troven would be af- 
 forded an opportunity of being heard ; the other 
 two counsellors with which he was united, were 
 both there, and the gentleman whose place, in case 
 of accident, he was engaged to supply, seemed in 
 glee and health ; just, however, as he stepped for- 
 ward to the bar to make his statement, he was 
 seized, as with a touch, by a sudden illness, which 
 obliged him to be removed from the House of 
 Lords into another room. 
 
 Troven was greatly agitated by this incident, 
 especially when it was proposed that the case 
 should be adjourned ; but still he mustered self- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 191 
 
 possession enough to inform the solicitor that he 
 had prepared himself for the accident, and requested 
 that he might take the place of his unfortunate 
 friend ; a proposition to which the solicitor readily 
 assented, for he did not, as we have mentioned, 
 think the case of that importance which a patient 
 man of genius had discovered. 
 
 Troven, when he appeared at the bar, was en- 
 tirely unknown ; the Lord Chancellor had seen his 
 face before in Court, but did not recollect his name. 
 This circumstance, as well as the sudden illness of 
 his colleague, his youth also, created a great stir 
 in his favour; and, before he began to speak, 
 there was a degree of silence and attention 
 throughout the house, that showed their Lordships 
 really could listen to counsel below the bar. Lord 
 Buyborough was particularly excited ; it does not 
 admit of explanation why he was so, but the air of 
 Troven attracted his notice ; and, on understanding 
 the cause of his appearance, his Lordship be- 
 came interested in his boldness, from which, with 
 many others, he augured favourably. Troven him- 
 self, could with difficulty repress his emotion ; it 
 was visible to all ; and the Chancellor, like the 
 rock in the desert, smitten by the rod of Moses, 
 yielding to the humanity of the moment, encou- 
 raged him to proceed. 
 
 At first our hero was low, tremulous, and a little 
 confused, but there was a melody in his tones, and 
 a latent strength in his voice disclosed, as he pro- 
 ceeded, which gradually procured him more and 
 more attention. He began with a brief, and upon 
 the whole clear statement of the case, which was 
 exceedingly satisfactory to the solicitor, who ob- 
 
192 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 served to a by-stander, that the sick man himself 
 could not have done better. 
 
 When Troven had made his statement, which he 
 did tolerably well, and his auditors understood 
 that there was a third party not in court, whose 
 right was, above all question, preferable to that of 
 the plaintiff, he secured the most solemn attention ; 
 every word that he uttered resounded with elo- 
 quence through the hall, and the ears of the Peers 
 were rivetted with attention. Had he been content 
 with the effect of this he would have defeated the 
 plaintiff, but he was now determined on complete 
 victory. Gathering all his energies, he hurled with 
 indignation an exposure of the plaintiff's conduct, 
 founded on circumstances that he should have 
 known ; many present sympathised to such a degree, 
 in the generosity of his rage, that they started 
 from their seats. 
 
 The solicitor chuckled with delight, for the cause 
 was won with triumph and glory ; several of the 
 peers came below the bar and sought the personal 
 friendship of the eloquent orator ; among others 
 Lord Buyborough, who shook him by the hand, 
 and, renewing their Oxford acquaintanceship, in- 
 vited him to dine at his mansion on the following 
 Sunday. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AT the time appointed, Troven went to Lord Buy- 
 borough's mansion to dinner, pleased with the in- 
 vitation, and with his professional prospects ; for 
 his success was marked by the receipt of several 
 briefs an earnest to himself of a prosperous ca- 
 reer. 
 
 On approaching the house, he felt himself un- 
 accountably agitated : a glow of surprise, as it 
 were, was excited, and yet he could not explain 
 the obtuse sense of gratification by which he was 
 so affected. The same feeling rose more vividly 
 when he entered the hall, in which, though he had 
 no distinct recollection of having ever been, every 
 object appeared familiar ; for in his childhood he 
 was often there ; and though he retained no con- 
 sciousness of the impression which they had made, 
 he yet knew them again. 
 
 When he entered the drawing-room, this emo- 
 tion, to him inexplicable, grew still more vivid ; 
 
 VOL. iv. o 
 
194 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 and as there was nobody in the room, he examined 
 different articles of the furniture and ornaments 
 with awe and curiosity, endeavouring in vain to 
 remember when and where he had seen the things 
 they so dreamily resembled. The likeness, how- 
 ever, seemed so vague, that it never crossed 
 his mind he was amidst old and well-known ob- 
 jects ; he only thought that he had seen some- 
 thing like the same apartment before. But his 
 reverie was soon interrupted by the entrance of 
 Lord Buyborough with his lady, the eldest of their 
 cousins, whom he had married. The younger of 
 the two followed, an extremely beautiful and de- 
 licate creature, whose surpassing grace and bloom 
 dissolved at once all the imaginings which the 
 local genius had so magically renewed. Several 
 strangers then came in, and the whole party was 
 of that quiet, easy kind, which, without obtrusion, 
 exists only in refined society, where brilliancy of 
 talent is not remarkable, and where the discipline 
 of manners subdues the varieties of character. It 
 was, however, agreeable to the state of Troven at 
 that time ; for, from the period of his splendid ap- 
 pearance at the bar of the House of Lords, various 
 accidents had kept him in a state of acute excite- 
 ment, insomuch, that the equanimity of the com- 
 pany afforded to him repose, even enjoyment. 
 Perhaps a curious metaphysician might say, that 
 this was equally owing to the influence of the 
 tacit objects around, as to the smooth and re- 
 ciprocal courtesies which prevailed between the 
 members of the family and the guests. 
 
 When he withdrew for the evening, in analysing 
 his own feelings as he walked homeward, he could 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 195 
 
 not but acknowledge to himself that he retained 
 a livelier sentiment towards the accomplished Al- 
 thea Mordant than he had expected. He regarded 
 the invitation of Lord Buyborough but as an in- 
 dication on the part of his Lordship to renew their 
 Oxford acquaintance ; and though he felt the dis- 
 tinction as propitious, he had yet obeyed the in- 
 vitation, more as a matter of that kind, than with 
 any hope of particular pleasure. But he could 
 not afterwards reflect on the incidents of his emo- 
 tion as less than an era in his life. 
 
 The happy feeling which had taken sudden pos- 
 session of his mind, as he had approached the 
 mansion, and the delight he felt when he entered 
 it, before seeing any of the family, he regarded 
 but as that anticipation of passing a cheerful after- 
 noon, which sometimes a man experiences as a 
 predisposition to find all in unison with himself. 
 But the impression which he had received from 
 the beauty and intelligence of his fair cousin, was 
 more ardent than even that predisposition war- 
 ranted. In it, the unconscious remembrance which 
 had quickened his emotion was absorbed, and he 
 could only think of her. She was, indeed, one 
 who could not be seen without emotion ; for her 
 exquisite beauty was illuminated from within with 
 a glow of intellectual light. The purity of her 
 mind, and the surprising elegance of her appear- 
 ance, justified the comparison of her mental and 
 corporeal charms to that of the dew-drop on the 
 .rose. To some occult spell in the air, with which 
 she was surrounded, he ascribed the felicity he 
 had enjoyed. There was a predominance in her 
 image, in consequence, which reduced all other 
 o2 
 
196 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 recollections into minor importance ; but he con- 
 sidered himself as actuated in this homage by her 
 superiority, and gave the name of admiration to a 
 sentiment that was nearer allied to love. 
 
 When he returned to his chambers, he was in a 
 gayer frame of mind than he had almost ever felt, 
 and sat down by his fire with a degree of happi- 
 ness which he had rarely experienced. He had 
 not, however, been long in this agreeable state of 
 rumination, when Mr. Villiers entered. It was 
 rather late, and his visit produced the greater sur- 
 prise, as he mentioned, that he had only come 
 from his own chambers. 
 
 " What,'' cried Troven, " has happened in my 
 absence to break in so upon your accustomed 
 tranquillity ?" 
 
 " Nothing/' replied Villiers, " nothing : but I 
 consider this visit as auspicious to your future 
 success, and I am interested, perhaps foolishly, to 
 know how it has gone off." 
 
 Troven then told him that he had rarely enjoyed 
 a pleasanter day. 
 
 " I was more at home," said he, " than I can 
 describe ;" and then he became eloquent with the 
 praise of Althea Mordant, during which he per- 
 ceived a cloud, thickening on the visage of Villiers. 
 and it had a hue of sadness in it that attracted his 
 notice. He said 
 
 " Why does all this so affect you? you look 
 as if it gave you no pleasure." 
 
 "It should, though," cried the other with 
 energy ; " for there is no one in whom I feel so 
 much interest and fear." 
 
 " Fear ! Villiers," exclaimed Troven ; " why do 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 197 
 
 you make use of that expression ? Permit me to 
 add, that I have observed for some time that you 
 do not look upon me with your old cordiality." 
 
 " In truth, my young friend," replied Villiers, 
 " your situation is never out of my mind; you 
 have all about you that can command honour, 
 esteem, and whatevei attaches friends. But what 
 may you yourself be destined to suffer, should the 
 discovery of your birth be different from my 
 hopes.'* 
 
 " It is singular that you should make that re- 
 mark on this evening/' cried Troven ; " there must 
 be a cause for it -what have you heard V 9 
 
 Villiers evaded a direct answer, by saying, that 
 he could hear nothing that would make him 
 change his opinion of one so highly endowed, and 
 possessed of so much worth. 
 
 " You shall not escape by that flattery," inter- 
 rupted Troven. " Come, tell me at once your 
 news, unless it is something very bad : the day's 
 enjoyment has strengthened me to sustain it." 
 
 " I have no news," was the reply ; " but do 
 you recollect that evening when we expected the 
 woman Tomlins here, and afterwards went to her 
 lodgings ; that I was troubled with the thought of 
 the manner in which she had prevaricated in her 
 story ?" 
 
 " Yes, I remember it too well ; it has come 
 often between me and the light, and overshadowed 
 my hopes when they might have been cheerful." 
 
 " Then," said Villiers, " since you have re- 
 marked the effect, I ought no longer, as your 
 friend, to hesitate in communicating my appre- 
 hensions." 
 
198 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 " Apprehensions! apprehensions! what did 
 she say, and why have I been so long of hear- 
 ing it ?" 
 
 " Compose yourself," cried Villiers ; " I have 
 no evidence, but only apprehensions." 
 
 " For God's sake tell me at once, that I may 
 know why you make use of that frightful word." 
 
 " Then," said Villiers, " how would you endure 
 to ascertain that your origin was low ?" 
 
 " I hope that I can withstand that." 
 
 " But how could you withstand, if it were 
 proved that you, and not the poor penitent lad, 
 were the son of Mrs. Tomlins?" 
 
 Troven started up with amazement at this ; but 
 he presently resumed his seat, and Villiers con- 
 tinued. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 199 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN the course of a short time Villiers, seeing our 
 hero become again master of himself, continued : 
 
 " I have no fear of you, but I have my doubts 
 of human nature. It is easy to say that a high or 
 low condition can make no difference to you now ; 
 that you stand upon your own merits, and by them 
 must stand or fall." 
 
 " Villiers, you are not so plain as usual speak 
 out, man. Do you imagine that all this time I have 
 never thought of my origin being base think 
 better of me, and believe me that ever since the 
 discovery of it has seemed probable, I have feared 
 to think that it might be base. But what cause 
 have you for those apprehensions which you say, 
 and I believe, enter like iron into your soul : and 
 wherefore is it, that on this night, of all that we 
 have passed together, you have thought it right to 
 warn me of this painful possibility?" 
 
 " I will be explicit with you," said Villiers, se- 
 dately, even with some degree of solemnity in his 
 voice. " I have no specific cause from the woman 
 Tomlins herself, to believe you were a surreptitious 
 
200 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 child, but the idea shot into my mind when I de- 
 tected her prevaricating, especially when she spoke 
 with indifference of the unfortunate young man 
 that is now abroad, and with solicitude of you ; 
 doubtless it is not inconsistent with the depravity 
 which may corrupt even a feminine heart to care 
 little for her own offspring and sordidly attach her- 
 self to one more in a condition to assist. But I 
 am loth to think so ill of any shape that resembles 
 woman, yet this thought troubled me, and the 
 more, when I reflected on the impression it might 
 produce on you." 
 
 " But she is dead," said Troven, "it matters 
 not whether her intention was true or but to be- 
 guile she can harm me no more : and she has 
 left no evidence that can do me good or ill. What, 
 however, to night has put this mystery in your 
 mind ? why, more than yesterday, do you think it 
 possible that I may be basely born has any 
 thing, tell me frankly, occurred in the interval." 
 
 " You press me close," cried Villiers, " and I 
 dare no longer equivocate with your questioning." 
 
 " Tell me out-right what has happened." 
 
 Villiers gave a sigh, and added, pathetically, 
 " I might tell and truly, that nothing new has 
 come to my knowledge ; but there has been, this 
 afternoon, an incident that has wakened my wild- 
 est fears. You remember Mrs. Halden the lady 
 with whose genius you were so interested ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes ; what of her how could I ever for- 
 get the singular distress in which she was placed ?" 
 
 " I found on my table to night," said Villiers, 
 " when I returned to my chambers, a letter from 
 her, by which she informs me that the relation of 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 201 
 
 her children, from whom they expected a rich in- 
 heritance, is dead, and that she is no longer ex- 
 posed to a recurrence of that destitution in which 
 we saw her." 
 
 " The news," exclaimed Troven, " is good; but 
 in what way does it concern me? If she has an- 
 other book of poetry, it might, for her writing is 
 like fire, it grows by what it feeds on." 
 
 "I am glad," replied Villiers, " to hear you 
 make so merry a remark ; but the purport of her 
 letter is striking she mentions you, and says, that 
 the bearer was the servant of her children's kins- 
 man, who, in consequence of a small annuity left 
 him by his master, goes to London in search of a 
 wife and child, whom he left, many years ago, in 
 consequence of the ignominious courses to which 
 the wife was addicted." 
 
 " Did she not mention the bearer's name ?" said 
 Troven emphatically." 
 
 " Yes, and thereby hangs a tale. Who do you 
 think it was ?" 
 
 " How should I know ? You vex me by these 
 interrogatories." 
 
 " Why, Jasper Tomlins !" 
 
 " Jasper Tomlins !" 
 
 " Aye, the father of the lad that has been, I 
 trust, so rescued." 
 
 " Say rather, mine, as you apprehend." 
 
 " I have but told you," said Villiers, "my fears ; 
 he is the husband of that deplorable combination 
 of grovelling vice and shattered elegance, that we 
 have seen." 
 
 " Does Mrs. Halden say so ?" 
 
 " No : and therein lies the wonder ; for I was not 
 
202 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 at home when he left the letter ; but in the even- 
 ing, the old woman, in whose room the outcast 
 died, called, " 
 
 "Well, I grow impatient." 
 
 " And, without much preface, she told me that 
 the man, Jasper Tomlins, had been at her house, 
 and requested that she would inform me of his in- 
 tention to see me in the morning, and begged to 
 know at what hour he should come." 
 
 " It is a strange and awful coincidence, as I feel 
 it," said Troven ; " how did he go to her ?" 
 
 " That," said Villiers, " I never enquired ; he 
 may have known that his wife knew her, and may 
 have gone to her house ; but I was so struck with 
 the incident, that I could find no other reply ready, 
 but only to fix the hour when he should come." 
 
 " I do not see in all this," said Troven, " how 
 it advances my anxious enquiry in any degree." 
 
 " It does not ; but the old woman's comment 
 has disturbed me ; it would seem from what she 
 gropingly guesses, that you are the child that the 
 man is in quest of." 
 
 How I !" cried Troven. 
 
 " Of her own accord," replied Villiers, " she 
 began to speak of the deceased and of her son, of 
 whom she knew nothing ; but she heard you men- 
 tioned, and her conjectures took their bias from 
 that." 
 
 " Are you not, Villiers," said our hero, " in this, 
 yielding to your fancy and your fears over-much ? 
 Your tidings do surprise me ; but I feel no alarm. 
 At what hour did you fix with her for Tomlins to 
 call ?" 
 
 " At nine ; will you be present ?" 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 203 
 
 " Had you not asked the question, I would have 
 offered but why does all this, my friend, so 
 molest you ? If he be my father, I cannot too soon 
 know him ; his master's annuity speaks for his 
 
 character, and his long absence from that I 
 
 will not think she was my mother no, Villiers, 
 my heart recoils from the thought ; but what you 
 have said gives but a slender warranty for your 
 apprehension." 
 
 " Thoughts," replied Villiers, " come not of no- 
 thing ; I would not have imagined you were her 
 son had I not some cause to fear it." 
 
 " You think so shrewdly !" exclaimed Troven. 
 " I see in your tale sufficient to make me inquisi- 
 tive, nothing that alarms me." 
 
 By this time it was wearing late, and Villiers re- 
 peating that he expected to see him at nine next 
 morning, rose to go away, none vexed at the man- 
 ner in which his communication had been received ; 
 but the austerity with which he regarded the work- 
 ings of human-nature, made him ascribe the latter 
 behaviour of Troven to the manner in which he had 
 so contentedly passed the day. It may be that 
 he had not told all the grounds he had for his sus- 
 picion, or not told them sufficiently clearly to in- 
 spire him with the fear that he himself suffered ; for 
 certainly, there was a degree of passion and ar- 
 dour sometimes in the enquiries of Troven, becom- 
 ing his anxiety on the subject ; and he said, after 
 wishing him good night, that in the morning he 
 might feel different. 
 
 After his departure, Troven, as he sat down by 
 his fire and pondered on the past, became more 
 and more grieved. He could not allow himself for 
 
204 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 a moment to think that there was any ground for 
 the strange suspicion with which Villiers was af- 
 fected. He regarded it as engendered by the 
 harsh interpretation which he put upon the actions 
 of mankind ; but the poison was swallowed, and he 
 could not reason himself out of its effect. Ever 
 and anon when he felt the thing improbable, his 
 fancy returned to the events of the day, and he 
 thought with complacency of Althea Mordant, but 
 it was only to be sensible to sharper pangs. 
 
 Whether Villiers did right or wrong in commu- 
 nicating his mortifying apprehension, we shall not 
 determine, but the sting that he had left behind, 
 had all the poignancy of malice. Perhaps a man 
 who thought better of his kind, would have locked 
 the thought in his own bosom till he had stronger 
 evidence ; but we are to recollect that Villiers 
 was, to a certain degree, a misanthropist ; his 
 habits, with all his virtues, made him prone to the 
 sinister pleasure which is often enjoyed by the ma- 
 lignant and the thoughtless, in telling distressing 
 news to those who are deepest interested in the 
 worst result. Be this, however, as it may, sleep 
 that night was scared away from the couch of 
 Troven, and every hour, that the night dragged 
 wearily through, was less and less tinged with the 
 happiness of the day, and grew more and more dis- 
 mal, dark, and heavy. Nor, when the morning 
 peeped into his room, did its light bring any solace 
 to his joyless anticipations. Ere the sun rose 
 he could think of nothing but of the doom that 
 awaited him, if Villier's fears should prove well 
 founded. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 205 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN the mean time, Jasper Tomlins, the elder, who 
 had been the servant to the relation of Mrs. Hal- 
 den's children, when he sent the old woman to Mr. 
 Villiers's chambers, went himself to Mrs. Servit's 
 with a letter ; on the delivery of which a mutual 
 recognition of each other took place, he having 
 been a groom in a family related to the old lady 
 with whom she had formerly lived as a companion. 
 
 He told her the object which had brought him 
 to London, and of his imprudent marriage when a 
 young man, and how the vices of his wife had 
 induced him, soon after the birth of their son, 
 to desert her. He then rehearsed what Mrs. 
 Halden had told him concerning her robbery, and 
 how his unfortunate offspring was rescued from 
 London and ruin by the humanity of Mr. Villiers. 
 
 To all this Mrs. Servit listened with a curious 
 kind of sagacity, as if she heard a second version 
 of a tale which she had before known ; and, with 
 that Scottish peculiarity which at once is guarded 
 and easy, without saying she knew, she enquired 
 what tidings he had received of his wife. 
 
206 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 " She is dead," said he, " and the world is well 
 rid of her ; for when I knew her, though she was then 
 much older than me, she was a flower of brimstone." 
 
 " Aye," said Mrs. Servit, " then it was a 
 thoughtless marriage ; but as it was the means of 
 settling you, ye ought to be thankful that it was 
 ordained to come to pass." 
 
 He then told her of the letter which he had from 
 Mrs. Halden to Villiers for the purpose of intro- 
 ducing him to Troven, whose history answered to 
 many points that might have been his son's. 
 
 " But," said he, " the old woman in whose house 
 my wife died, says that Villiers himself is more 
 probably my son ; for, on her death-bed, my wife 
 sent for him, and that she herself brought him to 
 her bedside, and when he went away, the dying 
 wretch was in the dead throes." 
 
 " I'll ne'er deny," replied Mrs. Servit, " that 
 what the woman told may be true, if it was in the 
 course of nature for a young man to be father to 
 an old one ; but as that is not the case, I have my 
 doubts on the subject." 
 
 " Then," exclaimed Jasper Tomlins, " you are 
 of opinion, with Mrs. Halden, that Troven may be 
 my son?" 
 
 " The heavens forbid !" exclaimed Mrs. Servit. 
 
 " Ah, mem," said the man, somewhat discon- 
 certed, " I am not now the rantipole that you once 
 knew. Since the day that my wife disgusted me, 
 and I fled from London, I have turned over a new 
 leaf ; and the best proof that I can give that my 
 son would have no cause to be ashamed of his fa- 
 ther is for a servitude of nineteen years with my 
 late master, he has left me my wages for life." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 207 
 
 " That," said Mrs. Servit, " is, to be sure, some- 
 thing ; but Mr. Troven, whom I know very well is 
 a proper brought-up gentleman, and has had the 
 best of educations : he can never be your son, 
 man ; he was at the college, and is a most extra- 
 ordinary lawyer." 
 
 " But, for all that, he may be my son ; for Mrs. 
 Halden told me that you told her how he was 
 found wandering on the common all in rags." 
 
 "True," said Mrs. Servit, " vera true; but did 
 you keep a footman, that was yourself but an 
 under-groom ? and did you bring up your family with 
 all their ayes and nays, like Valentine andOrson ?" 
 
 " Why do you ask that question, mem ?" 
 
 " Is'nt it," replied she, " a gospel truth ? did'nt 
 he wonder what was become of John, the footman, 
 and behave at the table, the first day, like a wee 
 princie? Na, na ! you're all off your eggs Mr. 
 Troven is no get of yours, or my Christian name 
 is not Janet !" 
 
 " Well," said Jasper, " I have been on a wrong 
 scent : who is Mr. Troven ?" 
 
 " Haven't I told you ? It's very impudent, and 
 shows the old leaven of your character, to contra- 
 dict my word, looking in my face." 
 
 Poor Tomlins was a little taken aback by this 
 answer ; and, with a pacifying humility in his ac- 
 cent, said he did not mean to contradict her, 
 and that it was only a construing of the words 
 which caused the misunderstanding. 
 
 " Well, well," said she, " I forgive you, for you 
 were never a particular lad : but do not blow 
 yourself up with the notion that ever Mr. Troven 
 will acknowledge you as his father. Dear me ! 
 
208 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 the thing 's no possible Mr. Troven is topping in 
 the law, and 
 
 " But he can't, if he would," interrupted Tom- 
 lins, " deny the fact, if so be I am his father." 
 
 " Miracles will never cease," said the good lady ; 
 " and much is in the power of Providence to do ; 
 but I have good reason to know that Mr. Troven 
 is" 
 
 " Mem," cried Tomlins, " don't harass me with 
 trifling : if the lad Troven be my son, what's the 
 use of denying it ?" 
 
 " But," said she, " if he is not, what's the use 
 of acknowledging it ?" 
 
 After a short pause, he replied, disappointed, 
 and, as it were, helplessly 
 
 " So I have got only my journey to London for 
 my pains. Well my resolution to bring him well 
 up when I got my independence is all smoke !" 
 
 Mrs. Servit was touched a little by the tone and 
 accent in which this was said ; and, to soften the 
 misfortune, she added 
 
 " Mrs. Halden is a poetical woman ; she does 
 not know the way of the world like her elders, or 
 she would have instructed you better ; for, surely, 
 me that brought up Mr. Troven, should know best 
 who he is." 
 
 " Certainly," said Tomlins, " that's but justice, 
 and all right you should but who is his father?" 
 
 " Not you, take my word for it, Jasper." 
 
 " But if you know," cried the man, waxing a 
 little impatient, " can't you satisfy a father's appe- 
 tite ?" 
 
 "That," replied the lady, "is a cormorant ques- 
 tion, that I did not think you would have had the 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 209 
 
 composity to ask; and I would give you an answer, 
 of you would tell me what reason you have for put- 
 ting me so into a corner. No, no, Jasper ; I know 
 you of the old, and you must not now expect to 
 bamboozle my discernment. " 
 
 " Gracious !" exclaimed he ; " can I give better 
 proof that I have seen a new light, than that I 
 have come to London to find my son? and I am 
 met on the threshhold by you with a no." 
 
 " But you say Mr. Troven is your son/' 
 
 " I was led to hope he was." 
 
 " Oh ! that is speaking in moderation. If you 
 had begun in that manner, I would have been very 
 explicit, and given you all manner of satisfaction ; 
 but plump you came upon me with ' Mr. Villiers 
 is my son ;' and when I told you that he was a 
 much older man, whom I knew perfectly, ' Then/ 
 says -you, ' Mr. Troven is my son/ Credit me, 
 Jasper, Mr. Troven is no more your son than I am, 
 who am but an old woman. However, this I will 
 say, that it will give me no small pleasure to hear 
 you have found your son. But, Jasper ! Jas- 
 per ! none of your tricks upon travellers. I am 
 too old a crow to be catched with havres. No, 
 Jasper ! your son was ta'en up for a thief, and if 
 it had not been for the skilful handling of Mr. 
 Troven and Mr. Villiers, it might have gone hard 
 with him. But, to make short of a long tale, he 
 was sent by Mr. Villiers to the East Indies ; and 
 you will hear all the particulars when you see that 
 gentleman. I see, however, ye're in a state of 
 dolorosity, and would be none the worse of a dram 
 to keep up your spirits." 
 
 VOL. iv. p 
 
210 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IN the morning, Troven went at the hour appointed 
 to Villiers's chambers, and had scarcely seated 
 himself, when Jasper Tomlins, the father, came to 
 the door. The moment he entered, such was the 
 emotion of Troven, that he started up from his 
 chair ; but presently he acquired the masterdom of 
 himself, in consequence of seeing a striking resem- 
 blance of some peculiarity that he had observed in 
 the young man who had been sent abroad. It 
 was not so striking, however, as to attract the at- 
 tention of Villiers, who became grave and appre- 
 hensive. 
 
 After some short conversation, Villiers mentioned 
 that Mrs. Halden had requested him to make him 
 acquainted with Troven ; and, turning to our hero, 
 immediately added that he was present. 
 
 It was in unison with the warm unchecked feel- 
 ings of Jasper Tomlins to burst into tears at the 
 sight of one whom he believed his son, and about 
 whom he was so anxious. Troven said nothing ; 
 but a slight surprise was visible in his countenance 
 when he saw Tomlins' emotion. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 211 
 
 Villiers was affected by the scene, but he changed 
 the current of both their feelings, by saying to 
 Tomlins, that he was apprised of the object for which 
 he had come to London, and added, that the mo- 
 tive did credit to his feelings ; but he apprehended 
 that Mrs. Halden had formed a hasty opinion in 
 imagining there was any probability of Troven 
 proving to be his son. 
 
 Whether the appearance of Troven had any ef- 
 fect in making Tomlins wish that her conjectures 
 were true, we do not undertake to determine ; but 
 with Villiers he excited a mortifying astonishment, 
 when, in answer to what he was saying, he ex- 
 pressed his conviction that Troven was his son. 
 On Troven himself, his words left no impression ; 
 for the resemblance to the rescued delinquent, 
 which he had noticed at his entrance, made him 
 comparatively easy, and he said, without agitation, 
 
 " What is your reason for thinking so ?" 
 
 Tomlins then repeated what he had heard of the 
 way in which he was found by Dr. Wycombe, and 
 particularly the anxiety of his wife to see him on 
 her death-bed. 
 
 Without changing his manner, Troven replied, 
 
 " What you have said would be plausible, if 
 there were not another young man in the case." 
 
 " Yes," said Tomlins ; u but Mrs. Sabine has 
 told me that my wife said nothing of the one you 
 believe was her son ; and that, had he been so, it 
 was not natural that a mother should forget, at 
 such a time, her own offspring/' 
 
 " Did she believe," said Troven, " that she was 
 then dying ?" 
 
 " I should think," said the father, without no- 
 p2 
 
212 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 ticing the extreme shrewdness of the question, 
 " that she could not but know her own state." 
 
 " Much depends upon that," replied Troven. 
 
 Villiers, excited by the observation, turned 
 quickly round, and observed, 
 
 66 If she did not feel that she was dying, you 
 think, Troven, she might still have been guilty of 
 equivocation ?" 
 
 " Yes, I do ; because, unless she had the inward 
 admonition of present death, there was about her 
 a tenacity of purpose which would make her cling 
 to the deception she intended to practise." 
 
 " Are you afraid," said Tomlins, " that I am 
 your father ?" 
 
 " I should do great injustice," replied Troven 
 emphatically, " to my own reason if I said so. 
 The testimony of your master's regard is a proof 
 that you are entitled to respect ; and, while there 
 is a doubt upon my origin, I ought to be thankful 
 that one who has been found so worthy, claims 
 me for his child ; but this is a serious matter. 
 To you it is of great importance, for there is ano- 
 ther living that has always believed you were his 
 parent." 
 
 " Would that he were here !" cried Villiers ; 
 " we are fishing in troubled waters, and may be 
 long of attaining the truth." 
 
 " Do you not," exclaimed Tomlins with a tone 
 of disappointment, " then believe that this gen- 
 tleman is my son ?" 
 
 " I can give no answer," said Villiers thought- 
 fully, " to that question :" and he turned his eyes 
 on Troven, who, noticing the manner in which 
 he looked, said 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 213 
 
 " Do you not see some resemblance between 
 this man and the lad abroad V 
 
 Villiers looked at Tomlins steadily for some 
 time, and then said " No," in a grave and im- 
 pressive accent. 
 
 Troven added " You disturb me ; for I thought 
 the resemblance at first sight very striking." 
 
 Tomlins hastily, and with some sharpness in his 
 tone, interrupted him. 
 
 " I see/' said he, " that you do not wish to own 
 me for your father." 
 
 Troven replied " What I have said are my 
 true sentiments ; and in such a case I ought not 
 to be blamed for being cautious." 
 
 " I beg pardon," replied Tomlins, with a soften- 
 ing in his voice that was almost contrite, " I ought 
 to have sought for my son before he was grown so 
 old and grand as to be ashamed of me." 
 
 " You mistake," interposed Villiers ; " it has 
 not been proved yet that Mr. Troven is your son 
 and this is not a time for self-upbraiding. It does 
 credit to your heart that, after so many years, the 
 anxieties of a father have been awakened in it 
 whenever it was in your power to be of any service." 
 
 With this tone of compassion Villiers appeased 
 the mind of poor Tomlins, who would have been 
 glad that his wishes had obtained any confirma- 
 tion ; but, in the very moment he received an in- 
 advertent rebuke, Troven said 
 
 " I hope you do not cling to the desire of hav- 
 ing me for your son merely because the other 
 young man was given to disreputable courses. Poor 
 fellow !" he added humanely, " it was his mis- 
 fortune not to be so happily brought up." 
 
214 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 And turning round to Villiers, he rejoined 
 
 " I am astonished you do not see the resem- 
 blance : to me it is very palpable." 
 
 Villiers looked eagerly again, and, without say- 
 ing any thing, shook his head. 
 
 By this time Tomlins had recovered from the 
 conflicting feelings with which he had been agi- 
 tated, and said, as he rose to go away, in a cha- 
 racteristic manner 
 
 " Gentlemen, I hope you will pardon me for 
 troubling you, but I expected to have had more 
 luck :" and, glancing at Troven for a moment, he 
 added, with a tremulous voice, " God bless you, 
 sir, I wish you well." 
 
 Our hero was deeply affected by this simple ex- 
 pression, and the manner in which it was said. 
 Rising from his seat, he went to the poor man as 
 he was leaving the room, and, taking him by the 
 hand, said kindly and fervently 
 
 " I thank you the blessing has come from a 
 father's heart, though I may have no claim to re- 
 ceive it." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 271 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SEVERAL months passed after the visit of Tomlins 
 to Mr. Villiers, without any incident occurring in 
 the life of our hero, deserving of particular notice. 
 
 From his appearance so much to his credit at 
 the bar of the House of Lords, he continued to 
 rise in his profession, but not in so rapid a man- 
 ner as Villiers had expected. He was, however, 
 advised to go upon the circuit, and he made 
 choice, from motives of economy, of the home dis- 
 trict. He also continued, occasionally, his literary 
 pursuits, as a means of adding to his narrow in- 
 come, which underwent no increase by his profes- 
 sional success, for he still kept it at the same rate, 
 diminishing by his fees the amount of what he re- 
 ceived from the warm-hearted Mrs. Servit, whose 
 kindness for him, fortunately, suffered no diminu- 
 tion. 
 
 With Lord Buyborough he cultivated the ac- 
 quaintance until their intimacy ripened into friend- 
 ship. The rest of the world, who heard of his assi- 
 duity, ascribed it to interested if not sordid mo- 
 tives ; for they knew not that it was more on ac- 
 
216 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 count of the beautiful Althea's company, that he 
 went so often to his Lordship's mansion, than from 
 any thing in that nobleman's power to bestow ; 
 who partook of the absence and indolence belong- 
 ing to the family, and was not likely, from any 
 motive of self-reflection to patronize merit, how- 
 ever much he might have been inclined to do so, 
 where his feelings were excited. But Troven 
 never afterwards, in his visits, experienced the 
 same inexplicable pleasure on entering the house 
 that had so contributed to his enjoyment on the 
 first occasion. 
 
 It happened when the time arrived that he should 
 go upon the circuit, that Lord Buyborough had 
 occasion to visit the neighbourhood of the town in 
 which Troven expected to make his first appear- 
 ance ; and, in consequence, his Lordship in- 
 vited our hero to take a seat with him in his car- 
 riage. The incident itself was not important; Lord 
 Buyborough, without thinking much of the effect 
 but something of that he did think made the pro- 
 posal as agreeable to himself. Troven was, how- 
 ever, aware that his consequence would be aug- 
 mented, and accepted the invitation as an honour 
 which would prove valuable. Both were in the 
 right : it certainly did increase the young lawyer's 
 influence with his brethren, and in the eyes of the 
 court, that he should come with a nobleman, who, 
 from the reputation in the state of his predecessor, 
 enjoyed a consideration which perhaps was above 
 his rank. Nor was it the least deserving of atten- 
 tion that he came in a carriage that should have 
 been his own. We mention this circumstance 
 not for any importance that could be attached to 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 217 
 
 it; for directly it gave rise to no consequence fur- 
 ther than it helped to produce personal augmenta- 
 tion of character, and probably, was the means of 
 bringing a brief or two more into his blue bag 
 than would otherwise have found their way there. 
 
 Among other cases there was one in which he 
 took more than common interest : it was that of a 
 prisoner accused of some misdemeanour. The 
 case as all those of humble delinquents, chanced 
 not to be very well drawn up. The brief narrated 
 it loosely enough, but the narration was not very 
 correct in one or two points. Troven perceived 
 the defect, and his curiosity being stimulated by 
 what was set forth, resolved himself to see the cul- 
 prit ; it should be mentioned why. 
 
 In it, to illustrate his character, it was stated, 
 that among other things of an old date, he had 
 come from London with a woman and a child upon 
 the day that Troven had been found on the com- 
 mon by Dr. Wycombe. The date struck Troven 
 when he first looked at the paper ; and the inci- 
 dent of the woman and child was a curious coinci- 
 dence, as it appeared to him. The date was intro- 
 duced into the brief, merely to account for the 
 time between two actions of the accused ; but to 
 have fallen in with a woman and a child, on the 
 same day that he had himself been found, appeared 
 deserving of investigation. Accordingly, under the 
 pretext of visiting the prison for the gratification of 
 his curiosity, he went thither; and, in the course of 
 going over it, requested to speak with his client, to 
 whom he was immediately admitted. 
 
 Instead of enquiring as to the merits of the ac- 
 cusation, Troven, cursorily as it were, mentioned 
 
218 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 that he was engaged on his defence, and, in the 
 course of conversation, adverted to his travelling 
 from London with a woman and child, asking what 
 sort of person she was. 
 
 The man happened to be possessed of a very ac- 
 curate recollection, and described her appearance 
 with great precision, remarking that he should not 
 have recollected her at all had it not often occurred 
 to him afterwards, that the child was not her own 
 but surreptitiously obtained. In addition to this 
 intelligence, he described the ragged garb of the 
 boy in such a manner, that Troven felt inclined to 
 think that the story concerned himself. He had 
 often seen the rags which Mrs. Servit had preserved, 
 but he had never heard the person who had wan- 
 dered the child on the common described ; and he 
 could trace very little resemblance between what 
 the boy wore and the clothes preserved ; still his 
 curiosity, to call it by no other name, was in- 
 creased, and his questions became more particular. 
 All he could obtain, however, from the man was, 
 that he had travelled from the skirts of the town 
 on the same day that he himself was found, and 
 that his companions were of a low condition, of an 
 appearance that bespoke some probability that he 
 himself might have been the child. He then, not 
 to appear too much interested by the incident, 
 spoke with the man relative to the imputation 
 under which he was to be tried ; and, hearing his 
 version of the case, still saw that he must necessa- 
 rily be acquitted. He, accordingly, requested him, 
 that if he should be, to afterwards wait on him. 
 
 In the meantime Troven wrote to Mrs. Servit 
 what he had learned, and begged her to look out 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 219 
 
 the rags for he would bring with him the man to 
 town. 
 
 Matters took the turn that he expected, and he 
 hastily returned with the man to Mrs. Servit; but, 
 on examining the clothes, the man confessed him- 
 self at fault, by saying that they might be the 
 same that the child wore, but, seen by themselves, 
 he could trace no resemblance, adding, however, 
 that he recollected the woman saying from what 
 part of the town she had come, and thought that 
 there she might be traced. 
 
 " I shall never forget her," said he, " because, 
 although her dress was mean, she had the air of a 
 gentlewoman, and did not speak that trolloping 
 language which might have been expected from 
 her appearance." 
 
 Troven sighed with disappointment ; the descrip- 
 tion answered to Tomlins' wife, but she was dead. 
 Still, when he reflected on the different circum- 
 stances which he had ascertained, he could not but 
 acknowledge to himself that two facts had been ac- 
 quired, namely, in the man he had obtained evidence 
 to prove that a woman, who resembled Mrs. Tomlins, 
 with a child, whom there was reason to think was not 
 her own, had been seen within a few miles of where 
 he had been found on the same day, and that she 
 had come from a particular quarter of the town. 
 
220 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 VILLIERS, in the mean time, continued in his ill- 
 humour; for he could not make himself under- 
 stand why one, in whom he found so many amiable 
 qualities, should stand in the peril of so great a 
 misfortune, as he deemed it, of having base and 
 coarse persons for his parents. His suspicion, it 
 is true, was shaken from the time of his first in- 
 terview with Jasper Tomlins ; and his fear in that 
 quarter was, perhaps, a little changed : but his 
 morbid sensibility gave credence to apprehension, 
 and, although he thought it might be doubtful if 
 Tomlins was the father, he grew more afraid that 
 some other less worthy might be discovered. 
 
 This, doubtless, was owing to a constitutional 
 peculiarity which made the pressure of every un- 
 happy circumstance more painful to him than to 
 the commonality of mankind. There was, in con- 
 sequence, something of a desire to appease his dis- 
 content in the visit which Troven paid after the 
 examination of the man at Mrs. Servit's. 
 
 When our hero had related the story, and showed 
 how it dove-tailed in with other circumstances 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 221 
 
 which they had carefully discussed together, he, 
 as he often did when perplexed, remained for some 
 time without speaking, and, when he did, what he 
 said partook of the mysticism to which he was na- 
 turally prone. 
 
 " I acknowledge," said he, " that this new in- 
 cident connected with the history of the man, is 
 very striking, and is the more worthy of credit 
 that it is so improbable, my young friend ; such 
 a remarkable coincidence of circumstances all tend- 
 ing to draw, if I may say so, the lines of circum- 
 vallation closer, proves that within them lies all 
 that you desire to be possessed of : but what is the 
 result of your enquiries about the woman he de- 
 scribed ? it can be no other than the wife of 
 Tomlins. 
 
 " I have not yet," replied Troven, " made any 
 search for her, believing that she was no other than 
 the deceased ; but I have come to ask you to as- 
 sist me in the discovery." 
 
 Villiers made no reply ; he instantly started up 
 and took his hat, requesting his friend to follow. 
 
 When they were about half way down the 
 stairs, he said, with vacation in his voice 
 
 " You are too remiss; you ought instantly to 
 have ascertained a fact so important to your- 
 self." 
 
 " Truly," answered Troven ; " the question does 
 not seem to affect me so much as it does you. All 
 I care for now is to find parents, reputable and 
 honest people." 
 
 " But," said Villiers, " as things tend that may 
 not be." 
 
 " I wish you would not bode so of evil," cried 
 
222 THE STOLEN CHILD, 
 
 Troven gaily ; " why do you fear they may not be 
 what I hope they are ?" 
 
 " Experience," replied Villiers, " has taught me 
 that fear is more of a truth teller than hope." 
 
 By this time they had reached the court, and 
 Villiers relapsed into what maybe called his brittle 
 taciturnity, and he made no remark ; indeed never 
 spoke till they had reached the mean and populous 
 neighbourhood where old Mrs. Sabine lived, and 
 her mysterious lodger died. 
 
 "It is not the least wonderful thing in your 
 story/' said Villiers, " that so many accidentally 
 concerned in it should know one another. This is 
 the quarter where Mrs.Tomlins had taken up her 
 abode :" and, in saying these words, he led our 
 hero to the dark, ill-aired nook, in which the ha- 
 bitation of Mrs. Sabine was situated. 
 
 Without preface he ascended to her apartment, 
 and entered it at once. 
 
 The old woman was within, and there was light 
 enough to see she had been sitting on her bed- 
 side alone, and in tears, which the abruptness of 
 his entrance, followed by Troven, prevented her 
 from concealing ; but she had address to say, as 
 she wiped her eyes, that gentlemen should not 
 come into a lady's chamber without knocking. 
 " I have been," she added, with affected cheerful- 
 ness, the more touching because it was affected, 
 " taking my usual supper, and you have disturbed 
 me." 
 
 In saying these words she requested the gentle- 
 men to be seated, and with an air of good breed- 
 ing that was foreign to the appearance of the room, 
 made something like an apology for its meanness. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 223 
 
 Both Villiers and Troven were much surprised 
 at her demeanour ; they had noticed before that 
 she dressed very neatly, though her apparel was 
 uncommonly mean, and that there was something 
 in her manners which showed she had been accus- 
 tomed to better circumstances. 
 
 Villiers was the first of the two who broke 
 silence, and it was with his usual abruptness ; but 
 there was a softness in the inflection of his voice 
 that took away even the appearance of rudeness. 
 
 " I see/' said he, in allusion to what she called 
 supper, " that your meal has been but of salt 
 water, with a seasoning of sighs." 
 
 " You say true," was her answer ; " but I de- 
 serve no better ; my days when I was young were 
 bright, and I was foolish ; grief for my error did 
 not teach me to repent, and now, when I am too 
 old, a thing despised, I feel all the effects thicken- 
 ing around me." 
 
 Villiers, with gentle accent, endeavoured to 
 soothe her ; and, as if it could carry any comfort, 
 he exhorted her to return to her friends. 
 
 " Friends !" she exclaimed, " I know not now 
 that there is one alive who knew me in my happier 
 time. I am seventy-seven years of age ; for it has 
 pleased Providence to prolong my worthless life 
 even to that period, and it is almost three-score 
 years since I deserted my family ; ask no more, but 
 tell me to what circumstance I owe this visit." 
 
 Troven then recapitulated his story, and what 
 the man had informed him respecting the woman 
 and the child, requesting her to inform him if she 
 could throw any light upon the subject. 
 
 " No," was the reply ; " I can give you no in- 
 
224 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 formation : for Mrs. Tomlins was but a recent 
 acquaintance ; she was much indisposed when I 
 fell in with her, and she seemed, like myself, to 
 have seen better days. I inv-ited her to take up 
 her abode with me, and here her malady en- 
 creased you know the result." 
 
 " But how came her husband to find you out," 
 cried Villiers. 
 
 " In truth I cannot answer that : he came to 
 this quarter in quest of lodgings, and we chanced 
 to meet. Some conversation ensued ; and in him 
 I discovered the husband of my deceased guest. 
 I need not tell you that she was an ill-fated gen- 
 tlewoman." 
 
 " It is very extraordinary," said Villiers to Tro- 
 ven, " that there should be, in so short a time, 
 such a confluence of chances in your fortunes." 
 
 " Perhaps," interposed Mrs. Sabine, " were you 
 to direct your enquiries to the public-house at the 
 bottom of this lane, you might hear something 
 more ; for, previous to her illness, Mrs. Tomlins 
 went too often there." And, with something like 
 a consciousness of superiority, Mrs. Sabine added, 
 that she never frequented such places. 
 
 Soon after the gentlemen bade her good night, 
 and went to pursue their enquiries at the low 
 public-house to which she had directed them ; 
 but, as they approached it, they lingered with diffi- 
 dence in the street, for a mingled noise of brawls 
 and coarse singing rose from within, and, when 
 the singing ceased, a vehement torrent of abuse 
 broke from a female voice. They paused at her 
 maledictions, and, with one accord, turned round, 
 resolving to call next morning, when the lewd tur- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 225 
 
 bulence would probably be abated for they were 
 deterred, by the riotous clamour within, from en- 
 tering. Before, however, they had moved from the 
 spot, part of the*, inmates came staggering to the 
 door, and among them an odious female, with 
 dishevelled locks, and her bosom unkerchiefed. 
 On seeing Villiers, this bloated hag ran towards 
 him, and, clasping him in her worse than Laocoon 
 embraces, pulled him towards the door, and in- 
 sisted that he should give her a treat of gin. Tro- 
 ven, shuddering with horror, retreated to a con- 
 siderable distance, and waited for his friend till 
 he could relieve himself from the loathsome ca- 
 resses of this human Sin. 
 
 Some may think that he ought to have fol- 
 lowed his friend, and so he presently thought him- 
 self : but the fray was almost instantaneously over : 
 he had only given way to the first impulses of 
 aversion. 
 
 Villiers, seeing the situation into which he was 
 dragged, affected an indifference to it far from his 
 nature, for he was a delicate, morose, and irritable 
 man ; but his knowledge of the world had long 
 corrected any weakness into which these elements 
 were apt to betray him. Accordingly, he put on a 
 smile at the way he was beset, and treated the 
 drunken slattern as she required. By this means 
 he won more respect from her associates than he 
 had expected ; and, telling them he had business 
 of importance to transact with the landlord, they 
 left the house as they had originally intended. 
 Troven, hearing the noise subside, rejoined his 
 friend in unmolested safety and tranquillity. 
 
 VOL. IV. Q 
 
226 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE enquiries of Troven and Villiers at the public - 
 house were unsatisfactory. Mrs. Tomlins was known 
 there, but only for two or three of her latter years ; 
 what she had been, and where she had come from, 
 were alike unknown ; and the search was rendered 
 more difficult by a change of landlords in the 
 mean time. 
 
 Dismayed by an occurrence so contrary to their 
 expectation, induced both gentlemen to resolve, as 
 they walked back to the Temple, to suspend all 
 further investigation till young Jasper returned 
 from India, as he was then hourly expected. They 
 had, indeed, no other alternative at that time, and 
 it occurred to them both at once, that he would 
 be able to conduct them over the obstacles with 
 which they felt themselves environed perhaps 
 even recollect something of the era in which the 
 substitution of the children was supposed to have 
 been made. 
 
 As it was yet early in the evening when they re- 
 turned home, Villiers went with Troven to his 
 chambers. It was dusky when they entered ; and 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 227 
 
 not observing that a letter was on the table, Villiers 
 laid his hat upon it, and sat down by the fireside, 
 evidently thoughtful, for candles were soon lighted, 
 and by them his countenance was particularly dis- 
 closed. Troven. who observed how much he was 
 troubled, made more light of their fruitless visit 
 than probably he felt ; but he then considered it 
 unavailing to express vain regrets, and, in con- 
 sequence, affected to be in better spirits than he 
 really was. 
 
 " I am surprised," said Villiers, observing his 
 hilarity, " that you can be so cheerful, while you 
 are so disappointed." 
 
 " There you are in error," replied Troven ; " I 
 am not disappointed. It does not much disturb 
 the habitude of my nature to find such a search 
 ineffectual . I am used to wonder who my parents 
 can be ; and the business of this evening is in 
 unison with that of all the days and nights that I 
 recollect any thing of. But why should you be 
 so downcast ; you are more like a foundling than 
 I am." 
 
 Villiers, partly to conceal the deep perturbation 
 with which he was moved, feigned more weakness 
 than belonged to one who had been disciplined by 
 adversity, and pretended that he had all day been 
 oppressed in an unaccountable manner, by a dream 
 that hung heavily on his spirits, adding 
 
 " I am no believer in visionary omens ; but this 
 I imagine, is the creature of some disease. It has 
 deepened upon me so much, really I am not my- 
 self when I think of it ; and yet I scarcely recol- 
 lect in what phantoms it appeared." 
 
 " Come, come," said Troven, " realities, more 
 Q 2 
 
228 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 than the unsubstantial seeming of things, perplex 
 you ; but if dreams have any efficacy, I should be 
 at this moment very sad ; for I, too, have had a 
 metaphysical visitation ; but it scared my sleep, 
 and instead of being lugubrious like you, I have 
 been more cheerful than my usual, and yet it was a 
 very grim apocalypse. I witnessed so much, that it 
 haunted me as perseveringly as a conscience-born 
 ghost : but I got rid of it by tripping up the spec- 
 tre's heels in making it hitch into rhyme. As the 
 laundress will soon be here to set the tea-things, 
 before she comes I will treat you with a recital of 
 my poem." 
 
 " Do," said Villiers ; " I am in the humour to- 
 night for listening to dismal tales, and your's es- 
 pecially ; as it is in verse it may happen to drive 
 the memory of my own lurid revelation away." 
 
 " Then listen," cried Troven ; and drawing his 
 portfolio, which was lying on the table, towards 
 him, he read from a bit of paper in it the following 
 composition 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Strange fancies will at times molest, 
 
 Awake, or when asleep ; 
 And did I dream a dream last night, 
 
 Or did I think to weep 7 
 
 Methought the green and grassy earth 
 Was as a mort-cloth black, 
 
 And all the sable skies above 
 Were streaked with flaming wrack. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 229 
 
 The sun shone like a coffin-plate, 
 
 That tells who lies below ; 
 The stars all bright were as the nails 
 
 That glitter in a row. 
 
 The trees in that unrighteous scene 
 
 Were as the hearse-plumes dread ; 
 The streams ran ink, their falls were mute, 
 
 And all the world was dead. 
 
 Then one by one the lights expired, 
 
 And ancient night was come ; 
 Lone silence settled dark o'er all, 
 
 Yes sound itself was dumb. 
 
 The glimmering phantoms of the past 
 
 Seemed things that were to be ; 
 And like the stars my thoughts were quenched ; 
 
 And light was gloom to me. 
 
 The stedfast earth beneath my tread, 
 
 Dissolving passed away, 
 And through the vague, and void, and vast, 
 
 I wandered wild astray. 
 
 Time was a point dimensionless, 
 
 Existence ceased a sigh ; 
 In all the rimless space around, 
 
 God was alone and I. 
 
 "Well, Villiers," continued Troven, "what 
 think you of my cogitation ?" observing that he 
 still remained moody. For about the space of a 
 minute he made no answer, and when he did, it 
 was with a melancholy smile somewhat derisive. 
 
230 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 " Troven," said he, " though I am neither a 
 Joseph nor a Daniel, I can interpret your dream." 
 
 " Then do ;" said the other, " and make an 
 effort to chase away the blue devils that so annoy 
 you what does it signify ?" 
 
 " Nothing," said Villiers, gravely, " it is all 
 cursed nonsense. I wonder how you could ever 
 imagine that the jingling of rhymes could conceal 
 absurdity." 
 
 " Now," replied Troven, gaily, " you speak like 
 yourself : upon my word I do think the idea pos- 
 sesses originality, and the verses are exceedingly 
 simple." 
 
 " You may think so," said Villiers, " but my 
 opinion is as unchangeable as the character of the 
 air or the ocean. I hate poetry, or rather, I hate 
 fine words set into rhythm, for they do not speak 
 to the reason ; and, save when they do that, all 
 poetry is to me mere verbiage." 
 
 " So you have many times said, Villiers, and 
 there are cases in which I may agree with you ; 
 but there is something musical or melodious in 
 that arrangement of words in which poetry so es- 
 sentially differs from prose." 
 
 " We may resume the argument after tea," cried 
 Villiers, a little more briskly, " for here comes the 
 laundress with the tea-things." 
 
 In saying these words he lifted his hat to make 
 room for the tray, and in doing so the letter be- 
 neath was seen." 
 
 "Ah!" said Troven, " what's this?" and he 
 drew it towards him. Observing the hand -writing 
 on the superscription, with Buyborough in the cor- 
 ner, he opened it, saying as he did so, 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD 231 
 
 " Some invitation I suppose ;" and he began to 
 read it to himself, but scarcely could he have pe- 
 rused three or four words when he started, and 
 then continued the perusal. It was a short letter, 
 but at the conclusion he put it into his pocket, and 
 said to Villiers, 
 
 " I must leave you as soon as possible. Lord 
 Buyborough requests to see me on some derm-pro- 
 fessional business he calls it, and begs me to come 
 immediately whatever the hour may be on this side 
 midnight." 
 
 "Go, then, at once ;" said Villiers, " think no- 
 thing of me every thing should give way to 
 business, for we know not what may ensue." 
 
 Troven desired his friend to remain where he 
 was, as tea was made, and hastened out of the 
 room. 
 
232 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WHEN Troven arrived at Buyborough-house, he 
 was shown at once into the library, where his lord- 
 ship was alone, with a large pile of old papers before 
 him, which he was evidently examining. On see- 
 ing our hero enter, he met him in a particular 
 manner, shook him cordially by the hand, saying, 
 that he could not conceive the favour he had con- 
 ferred by coming at once to him. Before Troven 
 could make any reply, his lordship added, as he 
 placed him in one of the easy chairs by the fire, 
 
 " It is a strange business ; but in all my papers 
 that I have yet perused, I have not met with one 
 word calculated to throw any light on the subject." 
 
 " What subject ?" inquired Troven. 
 
 " You may, indeed, well ask," said his lordship ; 
 " were you to guess till doomsday, you would not 
 reach it but I will tell you." 
 
 Troven, without speaking, bowed. 
 
 " Did you ever hear," cried Lord Buyborough, 
 " of my elder brother ?" 
 
 " No," replied Troven ; " he died young." 
 
 " Ah," replied his lordship, " so I heard." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 233 
 
 " Well ?" cried Troven, eagerly. 
 
 " Moderate your zeal till you hear all. I have 
 been looking over all the family papers of about 
 the time when the event was supposed to have 
 taken place." 
 
 " Supposed ?" cried Troven., in great astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " Aye, supposed/' said his lordship : " but my 
 old steward has heard something from Mr. Mor- 
 dant, who is heir to the estates, following me and 
 the two ladies, if we die without issue, which has 
 greatly alarmed him." 
 
 " Indeed!" said Troven, all eye and ear ; " what 
 has he heard ?" 
 
 " I must leave you," said his lordship, " to hear 
 the story from himself : he will be here presently ; 
 but the news has thrown me into a great flurry, 
 and the ladies are wringing their hands, and mak- 
 ing a terrible ado." 
 
 Troven, who was much in the practice of telling 
 his own story openly, in the hope of getting some 
 clue that would lead him to his parents, had, how- 
 ever, never mentioned it in the presence of Lord 
 Buyborough, who, having no suspicion that his 
 birth was unknown, sent for him to hold a confi- 
 dential consultation personally, before applying to 
 his own particular lawyer; but, notwithstanding 
 this, his lordship was amazed at the impression 
 which the rumour seemed to make on him, and 
 added, 
 
 " Isn't it a strange matter ?" 
 
 " What is ?" cried our hero, in a kind of stupor. 
 
 " Why, he says that Mr. Mordant had said it 
 was never known what became of my elder brother." 
 
234 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 "What then V 9 
 
 " Why,*' replied his lordship, " if that is the 
 case, you know I cannot be Lord Buyborough, nor 
 entitled to the estates of which I have possession. 
 You will say, that until my brother is found, or 
 proved to have died, I have the legal right; yes, 
 to the estates, but none to the title. You seem 
 greatly astonished at all this." 
 
 Just at this moment a knocking was heard at 
 the door. 
 
 " It is Mr. Piecroft, the steward," said his lord- 
 ship ; and he requested him, aloud, to come in. 
 
 On his entrance, Lord Buyborough introduced 
 our hero with something more expressive in his 
 manner than the ceremony required ; and his lord- 
 ship begged Mr. Piecroft to take a seat near 
 Troven, adding 
 
 " I have been telling him the singular news you 
 heard from Mr. Mordant : have the goodness to 
 make Mr. Troven, as well as you can, acquainted 
 with it ; for as the ladies have been much startled 
 with the tale, I must go to them for a short time 
 not that I am myself much agitated with the 
 thought of possibly finding a brother, but you 
 know it will be a shocking thing, if Lady Buybo- 
 rough is obliged to sink into plain Mrs. Mor- 
 dant." 
 
 And turning round to Troven, his lordship said, 
 very seriously 
 
 " If the tale have any foundation, I will in- 
 stantly abstain from using the title and privileges 
 of a peer." 
 
 Troven, although in a flurried state of excite- 
 ment, had yet composure enough to reply 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 235 
 
 " In such a case, my lord, it is necessary to be 
 cautious : let us keep the business as much as pos- 
 sible out of the tongues of the world. Your uncle 
 having died a bachelor, never sought any augmen- 
 tation to his rank. In this crisis, your lordship 
 should avail yourself of his services, and ask a 
 more advanced title." 
 
 " I have thought of that," said his lordship, 
 " and we will speak of it anon : in the meantime, 
 excuse me for leaving you with Mr. Piecroft." 
 
 He then quitted the room, and the old man, 
 somewhat abruptly, began his story with many ex- 
 pressions of astonishment and regret, for he was 
 rather tedious in his phrases, and disposed to more 
 circumlocution than is commonly met with among 
 those who have the reputation of being adroit in 
 business ; but Troven interrupted his prefatory re- 
 marks, by inquiring what Mr. Mordant said. 
 
 " You see, sir/' replied Mr. Piecroft, " passing 
 my lord and lady, and Miss Mordant, he is heir to 
 the title and estates. I do not know how it has 
 happened that my lord is not cordial with him, but 
 people of quality don't like any heirs except those 
 of their own body : however, my lord is not inti- 
 mate with him, but it may be Mr. Mordant's fault." 
 
 ' ' True, true," cried Troven, impatiently; "we 
 can discuss that hereafter : but what did he tell 
 you ?" 
 
 " Why, I can't say," said the old man, sedately; 
 " I don't know that he told me all he knew; but 
 what he did tell was very alarming, and made me 
 resolve to inform his lordship forthwith ; so I came 
 to London outright, and saw my lord immediately 
 after my arrival." 
 
236 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 " But," cried Troven, "it is not that which I 
 want to hear of; it is what you heard from Mr. 
 Mordant." 
 
 " That is the very point," said the old man, 
 " I am coming to; for his lordship, when I told 
 him the story, made light of it, and said he never 
 heard of it." 
 
 " The story ! the story !" exclaimed Troven. 
 
 "Indeed," added Mr. Piecroft, without being in 
 the least molested by his impatience. " it would be 
 a very extraordinary thing if a man lost a brother 
 older than himself, and not to know of it." 
 
 " Gracious !" cried Troven, becoming vexed at 
 his inconclusive narrative, " how lose a brother?" 
 
 " That is just what I said to Mr. Mordant my 
 very words." 
 
 " I beseech you," said our hero, " to be more 
 concise ; tell me in what way his brother was 
 stolen ?" 
 
 " Nay," replied the old man, " he did not say 
 the child was stolen, or whether it wandered of its 
 own accord for that makes a great difference." 
 
 " But how was it lost ?" 
 
 " Of that he said nothing, but that it was lost, 
 and that my lord, until it was ascertained his 
 brother was dead, should not assume the title ; 
 and I believe it is on that point his lordship desires 
 to consult you." 
 
 " This is insufferable," cried Troven, starting 
 from his seat, and pressing his forehead with his 
 hand ; but this extreme agitation was only for a 
 moment. He turned towards Mr. Piecroft, and 
 said 
 
 " I shall never understand this matter until you 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 237 
 
 tell me exactly what Mr. Mordant said : give me 
 his words, as near as you can recollect." 
 
 " Oh," said the old man ; " is that all you wish 
 to know ? it is a short story, but my lord said I 
 was to tell you every particular, and, in conse- 
 quence, I was afraid of not being particular enough." 
 
 Troven reseated himself; and, seeing there was 
 no way of getting rid of the old man's unnecessary 
 talk, restrained himself, and, with a wave of the 
 hand, expressive almost of despair, bade him pro- 
 ceed. 
 
238 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " MR. MORDANT," said the old man, " told me, 
 that about the time my lord's mother died, there 
 came a rumour, that it was in consequence of her 
 grief for the loss of her child. By what means it 
 was taken away never was discovered, as imme- 
 diately following her decease, the death of his fa- 
 ther, who was a clever but not a particular man, 
 took place." 
 
 Troven could make out nothing from this story ; 
 it bore no resemblance to what he had heard of his 
 own, but he inquired what Mr. Mordant meant by 
 the loss of a child ? 
 
 " Oh," said Mr. Piecroft, " he meant that the 
 child had gone astray, and he had heard that the 
 barrister had two sons, but it appeared he left only 
 one." 
 
 " Very well," said Troven, ' what reason has he 
 for thinking that there were two, and that one of 
 them is unaccounted for ?" 
 
 " He has," said the old man, " a great stake in 
 the question, and has ascertained that my lord's 
 father undoubtedly had two sons born to him : one 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 239 
 
 is, and one is not : and moreover he has ascer- 
 tained, as he told me himself, that the elder is the 
 missing one, for no record of his death or funeral 
 can be obtained. All the servants of the barrister 
 were dispersed at that gentleman's death ; and, in 
 short, it is a ravelled skein, and bodes no good to 
 my lord. " 
 
 While Mr. Piecroft was speaking, it occurred to 
 Troven that he ought not to mention his own ex- 
 traordinary case, but to investigate carefully all 
 the evidence that Lord Buyborough could obtain 
 to illustrate his. He observed, however, that the 
 whole story was very improbable, and that the 
 truth lay in a nutshell. 
 
 " His lordship," said he, " has only to procure, 
 if possible, one of the servants who was in his fa- 
 ther's household at the time of his death : by his 
 or her testimony, the fact that Mr. Mordant so 
 builds upon will be determined : and," he added, 
 " so his idea is, that the eldest born, the senior of 
 my lord, may be yet alive ?" 
 
 " Just so," replied Mr. Piecroft; " and what, in 
 your opinion, should be done ?" 
 
 Before an answer could be given, his lordship 
 returned into the library, and said, on entering, 
 
 " Well, Mr. Troven, what think you of Piecroft 's 
 tale of wonder ?" 
 
 " It is something extraordinary, but it may be 
 soon settled." 
 
 " Then," said his lordship, " you do not consi- 
 der it quite so seriously as I do ?" 
 
 " Your lordship does me some injustice. I 
 think it a very grave matter ; but the first thing to 
 be done is, to have it well ascertained that there is 
 
240 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 any truth in what Mr. Mordant alleges ; for his 
 story, your lordship will remark, is very impro- 
 bable. Even granting the suddenness of your fa- 
 ther's and mother's death, and the dispersion of the 
 household, it is not consistent with probability that 
 such a strange forgetfulness of your brother should 
 infect all concerned. The first thing to be done is 
 to find out one of the servants who was in your 
 father's house when the event took place." 
 . Without making answer to Troven, his lordship 
 begged Mr. Piecroft to leave them alone, but be in 
 readiness to attend him, if required. 
 
 The old man immediately left the apartment, 
 and his lordship said, 
 
 " Well, what do you thing of my situation ?" 
 
 "It is perplexing I know not what to think ; 
 but I will candidly advise you to apply, in the first 
 instance, for an addition to your rank ; so that, if 
 the worst in the chapter of accidents should turn 
 up, you may be secured from the tongues of the 
 vulgar." 
 
 "As I have told you," said his lordship, " I 
 have already thought of that ; but would it not be 
 prudent to ascertain first if there is any truth in 
 what Mr. Mordant believes ?" 
 
 " No," said Troven ; " if you do that, you ex- 
 pose yourself to the imputation of a fraud. No : 
 I advise you to lose no time in procuring a fresh 
 peerage ; when that is done when Lady Buybo- 
 rough is secure of her title, we shall then know 
 how to proceed. 
 
 Agreeably to this advice, his lordship lost no 
 time in making application for an advance in the 
 peerage ; and, as his uncle had made no claim for 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 241 
 
 himself, it was readily acceded to by the minister 
 and the king. 
 
 Immediately on the advancement of Lord Buy- 
 borough to be a viscount, Troven took up the in- 
 vestigation with the earnestness of an honest man 
 in a great trust, and the fervour of one deeply in- 
 terested. On the day subsequent to the gazetting 
 of Lord Buyborough's 'new honours, an advertise- 
 ment was inserted in the newspapers, offering a re- 
 ward for one or all of the servants who had been 
 in the service of Mr. Mordant the barrister. A 
 few friends noticed the coincidence of the new 
 peerage and the advertisement ; but the latter was 
 so carefully worded that it afforded no excite- 
 ment to curiosity, and the affair was, in conse- 
 quence, soon forgotten, even by those who had 
 observed it. 
 
 For some time no reply was made to the request 
 in the newspaper ; but an old woman from the 
 country applied at the shop to where the reference 
 was given, and, without any particular enquiry, she 
 was sent to Troven's chambers. 
 
 When she arrived there, he was sitting with Mr. 
 Villiers, who had mentioned to him that young 
 Jasper Tomlins had returned from India, and that 
 he had sent for him to call at his chambers as soon 
 as possible. 
 
 " Now/' said Villiers, " we are going again to 
 have your affair thick upon our hands ; for I have 
 remarked, as a curious ordination of fortune, that 
 any event which bears on it is never sent singly." 
 
 At that moment the old woman knocked at the 
 door and told her errand, namely, that she had 
 come to town in consequence of hearing the old 
 
 VOL. IV. R 
 
242 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 servants of Mr. Mordant the barrister being adver- 
 tised for. 
 
 Villiers and Troven looked at each other and 
 smiled ; it was so striking an illustration of what 
 the former had been just stating. However, Tro- 
 ven requested the woman to walk in and take a 
 seat, as he had a few questions to ask, for the 
 trouble of answering which she should be well re- 
 warded. 
 
 Villiers said nothing ; and the stranger, taking 
 a seat, appeared somewhat surprised at her situa- 
 tion, but had evidently something to say. Her 
 appearance, indeed, without being singular, showed 
 that she had come from the country and was re- 
 spectable. 
 
 She wore a black silk bonnet above a clean and 
 neatly plaited mob cap, a Barcelona handkerchief 
 pinned close to her neck ; black mittins, we be- 
 lieve they are called, on her arms, but her hands 
 were bare ; a checked apron, with a crimson stuff 
 gown, and a green petticoat ; and she wore black 
 stockings, with silver buckles in her shoes. 
 
 A person of this description was not often met 
 with in London ; but, at the time in which these 
 occurrences took place, was common in England, 
 and particularly in the northern parts of the kingdom. 
 
 " Were you one," said Troven, " of the late 
 Mr. Mordant's servants at the time he died ?" 
 
 Instead of giving a direct answer to this ques- 
 tion, she evinced considerable emotion, and said 
 
 " Ah, well-a-day, sir, it was a sad house two 
 deaths within so short a time of each other !" 
 
 " Answer me distinctly : were you, then, one of 
 the servants ?" 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 243 
 
 " Yes, sir, I was cook ; and, immediately after 
 his death, went to my friends in the country, where 
 I have ever since lived." 
 
 " I don't wish to hear you story," said Troven : 
 " but tell me, have you any recollection of his 
 two sons ?" 
 
 " Ah," said she, " I shall never forget ; it was 
 the loss of the eldest that caused my poor mis- 
 tress's death." 
 
 " The loss ! what do you mean by that ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, he was stolen away it was thought 
 by gypsies ; and, not being found, my mistress, 
 who was very ill, died that day, of all days in the 
 year on Lady-day." 
 
 " It was thought, then, that the child was 
 stolen ?" 
 
 " It was never doubted, but I never heard 
 rightly whether he was found again or no ; but 
 when I went to my friends he was still missing." 
 
 Troven and Villiers exchanged looks but no 
 words ; and Troven then took down the address of 
 the woman ; and, bidding her call next morning, 
 she, with something of disappointment in her look, 
 went away ; but he instantly followed her, and en- 
 quired if she was sure it was on Lady-day. 
 
 She repeated what she had said ; but Villiers 
 suddenly called after her to enquire the names of 
 the other servants and where they could be found, 
 which brought her back into the room. 
 
244 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 VILLIERS had remarked the pregnancy of the old 
 woman's countenance, and when she returned into 
 the room, before Troven had time to renew his in- 
 terrogatives, he observed, that she seemed to have 
 more to say, and he requested her to tell them all 
 she knew. To this she replied, that she had 
 been advised only to answer the questions which 
 were put to her. 
 
 " That," said Villiers, " would be very proper 
 in a public court, but this is entirely private, so 
 speak out, that we may see whether you can be of 
 any use to us." 
 
 Troven, thinking the manner of Villiers rather 
 hard and peremptory, said with more affability : 
 
 " We wish to ascertain the state of Mr. Mor- 
 dant's family at the time of his death, and will be 
 obliged to you for any information you can give us, 
 particularly the names, and, if possible, the places 
 where the other servants may be found." 
 
 The urbanity with which this was said, produced 
 an immediate effect on Mrs. Collop, who, shaking 
 off the evident restraint that was upon her, be- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 245 
 
 came loquaciously communicative ; but added, 
 that " from the time she went into the North she 
 had ceased to have any intercourse with the other 
 servants." 
 
 In her communication she evinced more intelli- 
 gence than the primness of her appearance indi- 
 cated, and Troven said to her : 
 
 " What you have stated is perfectly satisfactory; 
 but we do not wish to know so much of Mr. Mor- 
 dant's affairs as something- respecting the child 
 stolen." 
 
 " On that head," said the old woman, " I am 
 but a lame help ; all 1 know is, that he was not 
 found when I left." 
 
 " But do you recollect his dress?" 
 
 " Oh, yes;" replied she, " it was, I remember 
 perfectly well, of green and black spotted cloth, 
 and made in a fanciful fashion I never saw a 
 child so dressed before, and I should have known 
 him among a thousand." 
 
 Troven, looking at Villiers, replied, 
 
 " No doubt he would be soon stript and other 
 clothes substituted ?" 
 
 " That was what we thought at the time, for the 
 servants, notwithstanding the bustle in the family, 
 occasioned by the death of Mrs. Mordant, were 
 all wild about the boy." 
 
 66 Would you know the dress again if you 
 saw it?" 
 
 ' ' It is a long time ago, but it was very particu- 
 lar, as I have said. I might, however, bogle, if I saw 
 the same, but I can tell what was not it." 
 
 " You are sure, however," said Troven, " that 
 the child was never found ?" 
 
246 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 " I did not say exactly that/' was the answer ; 
 " only that he was not found so long as I remained 
 with the family, which was only till after master's 
 funeral." 
 
 Troven looked with a brighter countenance at 
 Villiers : it was as if hope shone in it, and Villiers 
 also seemed to relax from that austerity, the habi- 
 tual character of his physiognomy. 
 
 "Then," said Troven to Mrs. Collop, " you 
 cannot give us more information respecting the 
 child : did you never hear he was recovered ?" 
 
 "I am not sure," said she, " that I ever did, 
 but I believe he was, because I never heard any- 
 thing of the matter." 
 
 Troven then said that he would send for her 
 again, and requested her to make no change in her 
 lodgings." 
 
 When she had retired, he appeared a little per- 
 plexed and observed to Villiers, that she had not 
 greatly added to their knowledge. 
 
 " But she has added to it," was the reply ;" we 
 have ascertained that Lord Buyborough's eldest 
 brother was stolen ; whether he was afterwards 
 found has not been ascertained. We creep it is 
 true, but we progress ; nor are the colour and 
 fashion of the boy's clothes circumstances unim- 
 portant." 
 
 While they were thus in a desultory manner 
 talking of what had been gleaned from the old 
 woman, forgetting entirely Lord Buyborough's 
 case, and talking only of Troven's, as if in confir- 
 mation of Villiers' previous remark, young Jasper 
 Tomlins, in a sailor's dress, came to the door ; he 
 had been before at Mr. Villiers' chambers, and not 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 247 
 
 finding him within, came to Troven's, towards 
 whom he cherished a feeling of gratitude also. 
 
 He was instantly recognised by the two gentle- 
 men and invited in ; the smile which Troven 
 glanced towards Villiers at his appearance, had 
 something of surprise in it, resembling the look 
 which he gave him when Mrs. Collop announced 
 herself. 
 
 Whether there was anything intentional in Vil- 
 liers' manner towards the lad, or that he was ac- 
 tuated by the impulse of the moment, we are not 
 sharp-sighted enough to know ; but, giving a sig- 
 nificant look to Troven, he addressed himself to 
 the young man respecting the voyage to India, 
 and hoped that he found the life of a sailor, with 
 all its hardships, preferable to the dissolute and 
 dangerous courses which he had been persuaded to 
 abandon. 
 
 With that ingenuousness which had attracted the 
 attention of Villiers at the first, he warmly ex- 
 pressed his gratitude for his rescue ; and, as he 
 was a mild and good-looking young man, the tone 
 in which he expressed himself was highly prepos- 
 sessing. 
 
 Villiers then told him of his mother's death, and 
 was not a little astonished when Jasper said he had 
 heard it. 
 
 " How was that?" said Villiers, " you have only 
 arrived this morning, and I understand it was in 
 new lodgings your mother died." 
 
 " True, sir ; but before I came here I went to 
 where she lived, and there I heard of the removal 
 to Mrs. Sabine, and of her death." 
 
 His voice trembled a little in the last expression, 
 
248 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 and there was a momentary pause, but it was soon 
 interrupted by Villiers saying 
 
 " It was natural and good-hearted of you to go 
 to your mother first. Had you resided long in the 
 house, you went to before going abroad ?" 
 
 " About a year," said Jasper. 
 
 " Where did you live before that ?" 
 
 " In another part of the town we had always 
 lived there, as long as I could remember and be- 
 fore. In truth, sir, I believe it was for no good 
 reason we ever moved." 
 
 " Do you recollect, interposed Troven, " your 
 father, or anything of your childhood ?" 
 
 " No," said Jasper, " no ; my father had deserted 
 mother before I can remember. Yet, sir, she 
 was not all bad sometimes I have seen her very 
 sorrowful for the life she led, and I don't think the 
 poor woman hated me so much as she seemed to 
 do, when I was reluctant to be so bad as she 
 wished. It was a wild way she had, and when she 
 saw me inclined to better courses, I have seen her 
 sometimes shed bitter tears at my upbraiding as 
 she then called it. Ah, sir, she was more vexed 
 than angry with me." 
 
 " Do you know," said Troven, " the origin of 
 your mother?" 
 
 " No, sir ;" replied Jasper, pensively, " but the 
 neighbours said that she came of gentlefolks ; sir, 
 there was more of madness than wickedness about 
 her." 
 
 " Your father," said Troven, " who was he ?" 
 
 " I don't know, Sir ; I have no recollection of 
 him I never heard what became of him sir ; 
 poor people have too many cares of their own to 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 249 
 
 know a great deal of what becomes of one an- 
 other." 
 
 " Then you do not know if your father be alive?" 
 
 " No, sir ; I am afraid to enquire." 
 
 " The feeling does you credit," said Villiers. "I, 
 however, am glad to tell you that he is living and 
 doing well." 
 
 " Does he know anything of me ?" said the 
 young man. " I should be glad to see him ;" and, 
 unable to control his feelings any longer, burst into 
 tears, saying, " it is, sir, a blessed thing, which you 
 can never be so unhappy as to know, to think that 
 there is somebody in the world that cares for you." 
 
 The tone and manner with which this was said, 
 was deeply affecting ; and Troven, to conceal how 
 much it touched him, was obliged to turn round 
 and walk towards the window to hide his emotion. 
 
250 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE result of the conversation with Jasper was an 
 agreement on the part of Troven and Villiers, that 
 he should accompany them in the afternoon to the 
 house where he resided with his mother in the time 
 of his youth ; for they ascertained that he himself 
 could give them no precise information that tended 
 in any degree to elucidate their enquiry. In the 
 mean time, Troven went to Mrs. Servit's, to tell 
 her all that had passed ; for matters had now taken 
 such a turn, as completely justified him. Before 
 the discovery of what had been ascertained from 
 Mrs. Collop, he felt that it would have been some- 
 thing equivalent to a breach of professional con- 
 fidence to have disclosed any particular of Lord 
 Buyborough's case ; but now, towards one to whom 
 he was so much indebted, he no longer felt himself 
 restrained. 
 
 While he was relating to her the story, she 
 listened with the most profound attention. Con- 
 trary to her usual custom, she never interrupted 
 him ; but as he proceeded, her face brightened, 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 251 
 
 and when he had told the whole particulars, it 
 sparkled into a cheerful smile. 
 
 " Aye, aye," said she, ye see how my words of 
 truth come to pass : I always said ye were come 
 of somebody, and so it kithes; but I never ex- 
 pected to live to see that you ought to be a Lord." 
 
 " Well," said Troven, gaily, " I was always of 
 the contrary opinion ; for I thought myself ex- 
 ceeding well qualified to be a personage of that 
 degree." 
 
 " No doubt," said she, " ye might think so, 
 having the nature of one in you ; but I, who had 
 only my eyes to guess by your externals it was a 
 very wonderful thing to think always as I did ; I 
 had no notion that my sagacity was of such dis- 
 cernment." 
 
 " Why," said Troven, " you speak as if the case 
 were settled." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," replied she ; " it's 
 very near being so ; it just wants a few particulars 
 to be a plain matter of fact." 
 
 " Aye ; but these particulars, Mrs. Servit." 
 
 " I would'nt be particular about them," said 
 she ; " you are in my persuasion no other than 
 my lord's brother : that I prophecy ; and lo and 
 behold it will be brought about. But I may now 
 tell you, for it will not greatly molest you to know, 
 that Jasper Tomlins has been here again this morn- 
 ing, telling me that his neer-do-weel son has come 
 from Indy, and that he is sure he can be no son of 
 his ; but I told him, that as the old cock crows the 
 young cock learns ; and that there could not be a 
 surer proof of the young hempy being his get, 
 than that he had been a thief; for that I knew 
 
252 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 well how he himself was little better in the days of 
 his youth ; but for all that, he was none converted, 
 continuing to say, you were his son, which to me 
 was most provoking to hear, that brought you up." 
 
 " Yes," said Troven : " to him who has taken 
 such an idea into his head, it must be very morti- 
 fying to hear what you have said ; but if it should 
 turn out true that I am his son " 
 
 This was said very playfully ; for in her mo- 
 mentary exultation, Mrs. Servit was disposed to 
 overleap many impediments, and Troven was often 
 inclined to trifle with her when he observed her in 
 such a mood. 
 
 " No possible," said she; " you might as soon 
 tell me that a hooded crow would bring forth a 
 turtle dove, as that you were his son. Have'nt I 
 an eye that can see the difference ? have I not an 
 understanding that can make it manifest? No, 
 no, Mr. Edward, you are not his son, but a man 
 of pedigree." 
 
 " Jasper Tomlins is not," said Troven, a little 
 more gravely, " a man that should be so lightly 
 spoken of." 
 
 " True, true," said Mrs. Servit ; " but I have 
 always my doubts of your penitent and contrite 
 ones. Do you think I have forgotten what a mis- 
 chief he was when I first kent him ? and you know 
 what is bred in the bone is not easily got out of 
 the flesh. It does very well for sic like to keep 
 themselves out of the causeway talk ; but it will 
 be long to the day before a rogue suspects himself 
 of not being a rascal." 
 
 " But," said Troven, " I never heard you say 
 much ill of him." 
 
TPIE STOLEN CHILD. 253 
 
 " Did you ever hear me say any good ? No, no. 
 At one time of his life, if ever a man was ordained 
 to be hanged, he was that man. What with cutting 
 the tails and ears of whelps, there was not such a 
 cruel monster in the land of the living ; he was, 
 to my certain knowledge, a perfect Blue Beard, 
 for drowning whelps and kitlings ; for the latter, 
 to be sure, he might claim a pardon ; for if we did 
 not drown them we would be overrun with cats, 
 who are as bad as mice and rattons, if you give 
 them too much head -rope." 
 
 But not to prolong unnecessarily the conversa- 
 tion with Mrs. Servit, we must say that she all 
 along was perfectly persuaded that Troven would 
 ultimately be found a person of rank ; and to do 
 her justice, she had the acuteness to perceive in 
 many confused circumstances, increasing corrobo- 
 ration of what she believed. She was, therefore, 
 not well pleased at the pertinacity with which 
 Jasper Tomlins, the elder, adhered to the idea of 
 Troven being his son. Indeed she thought he had 
 too much of the old leaven of his nature in him 
 for presuming to think so. 
 
 " But now," said she, " he will meet with a settler 
 when he sees the young man ; for I am credibly 
 informed there is such a likeness between them, 
 that father and son are written on their foreheads." 
 
 Troven, who knew that she had never seen the 
 son, and that when her affections and prejudices 
 were engaged, the breadth of her assertions was 
 somewhat uncertain, replied, that he did not know 
 she had ever seen the young man. 
 
 " That may be true," replied Mrs. Servit ; " but 
 I believe he is his own son, and, therefore, must be 
 
254 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 very like him, which is a matter of fact, and admits 
 of no doubt whether or no. However, give your- 
 self no uneasiness, you are my lord's brother, or I 
 am the Queen of Sheba." 
 
 Troven, though he laughed at her random as- 
 sertions, derived something almost like hope from 
 them. He was pleased to see that the evidence, 
 imperfect as it was, produced on any mind so 
 favourable an impression, even while he could not 
 but acknowledge the conclusion extravagant and 
 far beyond anything that the premises warranted. 
 But the very flush of this hope was checked by 
 the foreboding of Villiers ; nor did he enquire how 
 much it was in that gentleman the effect of a men- 
 tal habitude, engendered by disappointment : it 
 was sufficient to make him fearful, that such a 
 foreboding existed. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 255 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AT the time appointed, Villiers and young Jasper 
 met at Troven's chambers, and they proceeded 
 with him to an obscure street in the neighbourhood 
 of Smithfield, where Mrs. Tomlins had long occu- 
 pied a miserable dwelling. It was a back court, 
 mean, damp, and slovenly. On the sill of several 
 windows, however, two or three flower-pots, with 
 geraniums, might be seen, indicative of an inci- 
 pient taste for the beauties of nature, unexpired 
 among the inhabitants within. 
 
 The lodgings in which Jasper had been brought 
 up were occupied by a stranger to whom he was 
 not known ; but in the court he found an old lame 
 hackney-coachman, who recognised him at once, 
 and expressed great pleasure at seeing him again. 
 But as this person had not become an inmate of the 
 place till Jasper was grown into a lad, he could 
 give neither Troven nor Villiers any satisfactory 
 information. He mentioned, however, some remi- 
 niscence of an old couple who were resident in the 
 same house in which he now dwelt, and who had 
 quitted the court when he took possession. They 
 
256 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 had removed to a distant part of the city, to which 
 he gave them a direction, saying, that unless they 
 could tell something about Mrs. Tomlins before his 
 time, there was no other that knew any thing 
 about her. 
 
 As they were now bent on a search for evidence, 
 they immediately entered a coach, and drove at 
 once to the place he had named. 
 
 They found the house in a narrow lane, sur- 
 rounded by other habitations similar to those in the 
 court which they had just left, and fortunately the 
 old decrepit couple at home. 
 
 Having seated themselves in the sorry lodging, 
 Villiers, who, unless the occasion was more than 
 usually particular, acted as spokesman, enquired 
 of the old man and woman if they knew what had 
 become of Mrs. Tomlins. But instead of replying 
 at once to the question, the old man looked signi- 
 ficantly to his wife, which Villiers observing, re- 
 peated the question with a little inflexion of stern- 
 ness in his voice. The woman, in place of her 
 husband, shrewishly noticed his manner, and ab- 
 surdly said, as it seemed at the moment, 
 
 " We are not used to be spoken to in such a 
 manner." 
 
 There was nothing but the singularity of her ex- 
 pression to mark the observation. It had a tone 
 of pertness disagreeable to the gentlemen ; but the 
 words implied more than met the ear, and Villiers 
 was rebuked by it. Still, however, intent on his 
 purpose, he repeated the interrogation to the old 
 man, who, without raising his eyes, answered, that 
 he had heard of the death of Mrs. Tomlins, adding, 
 
 " It was time." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 257 
 
 " What do you mean by that ?" said Jasper ; 
 but, suddenly checking himself, he begged par- 
 don for the interruption. Villiers and Troven 
 looked towards each other gravely, without speak- 
 ing; for the manner in which the ragged old 
 man had answered the question was very strik- 
 ing. He spoke as if awed by a sentiment of 
 shame, and his language, like that of Mrs. Tom- 
 lins, seemed in strange discord with his con- 
 dition. 
 
 " We desire," resumed Villiers, " to know some- 
 thing of Mrs. Tomlins, when she lived near you in 
 Bulldog-court: this young man is her son." 
 
 At this, the old woman exclaimed, " Goodness ! 
 is that there he Jasper Tomlins ?" 
 
 Her husband looked askance steadily at Jasper, 
 and added, 
 
 " You have grown a stout young man since 
 those days." 
 
 But Villiers thought this was said to evade his 
 question, and repeated it in substance, by inquir- 
 ing what was known about Mrs. Tomlins when he 
 knew her. 
 
 The wife again interposed, and, with a sharp 
 voice, replied, 
 
 " We didn't keep such company." 
 
 Her interruption the second time rather discon- 
 certed Villiers, and our hero interfered, by asking 
 if they resided in the court when Mrs. Tomlins 
 took up her abode in it. 
 
 The old woman again answered 
 
 " Many a day before ;" and began a dissertation 
 on the extravagancies in which Mrs. Tomlins some- 
 
 VOL. iv. s 
 
258 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 times indulged. But Troven, from a feeling of 
 compassion for Jasper, abruptly checked her, by 
 enquiring if she had any recollection of her having 
 any other children than her son. 
 
 " No," said the old man, looking up with more 
 confidence ; " but she was, I remember well, two 
 days a-missing from her lodgings, and when she 
 came home, she brought with her a dress for her 
 son, better than became him, and said she 
 had received it from her friends ; for you know, 
 I dare say, that she was a woman well born, 
 though she never would tell who were her rela- 
 tions." 
 
 This answer seemed exactly what Troven desired 
 to obtain. He made no reply, and for some time 
 his colour went and came ; he appeared like one 
 stunned by a blow. Villiers was less apparently 
 affected, but he bent eagerly forward, and en- 
 treated the old man to be more explicit. 
 
 " I cannot," was the answer; " I only recollect 
 the circumstance, and what was said by the neigh- 
 bours at the time ; for, as my wife says, we were 
 not on terms of intercourse with such a Moll 
 Flagon." 
 
 Then, as if to disguise the inadvertence of an 
 expression that betrayed more intelligence than it 
 was becoming to disclose, he added, " for she was, 
 at times, an obstreperous trull." 
 
 Jasper reddened a little at the expression, but 
 said nothing ; while Troven, taking up the inquiry, 
 continued 
 
 " Have you any recollection of what the dress 
 she brought to the boy was like?" remembering 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 259 
 
 the green and black spotted clothes which Mrs. 
 Collop had described. 
 
 In the answer he was disappointed : no distinct 
 remembrance of it was retained, but the conclusion 
 seemed to warrant his inference that it was the 
 same ; for, in addition to the fact, the old man 
 added, that the incident happened long ago, when 
 Jasper was a child not more than two or three 
 years old. 
 
 After some time, the party rose and left the 
 house, and, as they walked toward the street, Vil- 
 liers, taking Troven by the arm, observed that they 
 were making but tardy progress. 
 
 Something in the tone of this remark smote the 
 ear of our hero in such a way, that he could not 
 help replying 
 
 " You surprise me, Villiers you seem more dis- 
 satisfied at discovering a tendency in any evidence 
 we can obtain to prove me a gentleman, than I 
 could have imagined as if you were vexed to find 
 your preconceived opinion unsound." 
 
 " You do me wrong," answered Villiers, " in 
 thinking so ; but I fear that the bias of your mind is 
 to build castles in the air ; and in all our enqui- 
 ries, you insensibly lean to a favourable construc- 
 tion for yourself of what you hear. It is not such 
 trumpery as old clothes you should think about 
 we forgot to enquire if the child, of whom Mrs. 
 Tomlins acknowledged herself the mother, was our 
 friend Jasper here." 
 
 Troven, disturbed at the remark, knew not 
 what to answer ; and Villiers, seeing his con- 
 fusion, turned round to the sailor, who was walk- 
 
260 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 ing behind, and inquired if he could conduct them 
 to any person whom he knew when he was very 
 young "a mere child," said he; "for in our 
 pursuit we are at fault." 
 
 Jasper thought some time, and then said that he 
 had a recollection of a person to whom his mother 
 sometimes went, and took him with her when a 
 child. 
 
 u Conduct us there," cried Villiers; " we must 
 not sleep in this uncertainty." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 261 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN proceeding to the house to which they were 
 conducted by Jasper, his mind gradually bright- 
 ened ; reflection blew* the dust of time from his 
 memory, and many images were restored that he 
 had forgotten. At last he told them, among other 
 things, that he was born, he believed, in the wo- 
 man's house, and had some reason to think she 
 had been the nurse of his mother. 
 
 " I think so/' said he, " from many circum- 
 stances that I recollect ; but if so, she had been 
 sworn to secresy, for I never heard of my unfor- 
 tunate mother's origin." 
 
 The truth was as he suspected : she was his 
 mother's nurse, and she had been sworn to secresy ; 
 but, in other respects, she merited some esteem ; 
 her fidelity to her oath was unquestionably praise- 
 worthy. 
 
 The house was in one of the streets near Charing- 
 cross, and much more respectable in its appear- 
 ance than they had ventured to expect ; even 
 though Jasper had told them, judging from recol- 
 
262 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 lection, that it was very grand, and that the nurse 
 made her chief living by letting apartments. 
 
 On arriving at the door, and enquiring for the 
 mistress, they were shown into a neat parlour by 
 a maid well-dressed and civil ; and Mrs. Jenkins, 
 as the landlady was called, soon after made her 
 appearance. 
 
 Villiers, without much preface, told her they 
 had been informed that the late Mrs. Tomlins was 
 acquainted with her, and they wished to put a few 
 questions in consequence. 
 
 The nurse, who appeared to be a shrewd and 
 cautious woman, slightly coloured, and replied, 
 apparently with candour. 
 
 " I knew that unfortunate creature," was the 
 answer ; " but she has paid the debt of nature, 
 and should not be recollected any more." 
 
 Villiers, without attending to her observation, 
 said 
 
 " You, no doubt, recollect her son ?" 
 
 " I do," replied Mrs. Jenkins, guardedly ; " to- 
 wards him she was much to blame. All she was 
 guilty of before might have been error ; but to the 
 innocent, her conduct admits, I fear, of no other 
 name than headstrong wickedness." 
 
 " Then you knew her son ?" said Villiers. 
 
 " When he was an infant I did know him ; but 
 1 have heard nothing of him for many years." 
 
 " Then you do not think you would know him 
 again ?" said Troven. 
 
 Without returning an immediate answer, she 
 looked steadily at the sailor for some time, and 
 then said 
 
 " No, it is long ago ; but he should be about 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 263 
 
 your own age, or that of this young man :" and 
 she looked again at Jasper. 
 
 " You seem/' said Villiers, '* to regard this 
 sailor rather particularly." 
 
 66 Yes," said she, " your question put it into 
 my head, that he, or this gentleman, might be her 
 son." 
 
 Troven grew pale, as if seized with sudden sick- 
 ness, as she said this ; and Villiers, evidently 
 touched by her remark, resumed his enquiries. 
 
 " Did you ever hear any thing respecting a visit 
 which she made to her friends many years ago ?" 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins shook her head, and said, in a pa- 
 thetic voice 
 
 " No, no ; let no one tell me that she ever did." 
 
 " Then you never heard of a dress that she 
 brought from them for her son." 
 
 '* A green and black dress," added Troven." 
 
 " Gentlemen," replied Mrs. Jenkins, " ask me 
 not more than is necessary ; you probe my heart 
 when you recall her to mind." 
 
 " But," said Villiers, " on this tale hangs much : 
 tell us all you can, and we will be as sparing as 
 possible of painful questions." 
 
 " I can tell you little," was the answer ; " I 
 never asked what she did ; it was grief enough to 
 see her as she was. But I did not imagine this 
 young man was her son :" and, glancing at Troven, 
 she said " this gentleman is more like what he 
 should have been." 
 
 She meant only that he was more in the dress 
 of what Mrs. Tomlins' son should have been ; but 
 both Troven and Villiers put a different interpre- 
 tation on her words, and thought mentally that 
 
264 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 Troven resembled Mrs. Tomlins. The words pro- 
 duced 'an evident dismay on the countenance of 
 Troven. Villiers also looked more severe than 
 usual ; and Jasper, with an awakened countenance, 
 said 
 
 " Then you do not think I am her son ?" 
 
 She again examined him with an inquisitive 
 look from head to foot, and said 
 
 66 I can see no resemblance." 
 
 " Yet," said Jasper, " I well recollect to have 
 been in this house with her : do you not remember 
 me now ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Jenkins, " I do recollect that 
 she at one time came often here, and brought a 
 little boy with her ; you may have been that boy, 
 but years had passed, and she never told me that 
 the child with her was her own : had he been so, 
 I think she would ; for she confessed to many 
 things worse than that. But in truth, gentlemen, 
 I can give you no information :" and, bursting into 
 tears, the good woman exclaimed, " Would that 
 she had never been born ! I was her nurse, and 
 had not the heart to bid her go away from my 
 door when she came to it, but I never enquired 
 into her way of life." 
 
 " And so," cried Troven, " you cannot tell any- 
 thing of the child ?" 
 
 " No, no," cried Mrs. Jenkins ; " I only know 
 she had a boy with her : but, as I never wished to 
 hear aught of her, I never enquired if he was her 
 own. If any one," she continued, " has told you 
 that she visited her friends, and received from them 
 gifts for her child, do not believe it. She was 
 disowned ; and I have heard that, long before I 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 265 
 
 saw her with you (meaning Jasper), she had been 
 seen by one of her father's servants travelling on 
 the north road not many miles from his residence, 
 with a child, and it was reported that afterwards 
 a child of the same description was found deserted 
 on the neighbouring common. Her father had set 
 his heart against her, and would not permit any 
 enquiry concerning the foundling. It was of a 
 piece with her reckless conduct to leave the child, 
 if she thought it troublesome : but if you," she 
 added, turning to Jasper, " are the boy that was 
 with her in this house, and if the story I have 
 heard of her unmotherly abandoning of her own 
 offspring be true, it happened long before ; and, I 
 grieve to say, she was of such a rash nature, that 
 she was both capable of deserting her child in a 
 passion, and of borrowing another to impose on 
 me : but, gentlemen, you ought not to ask me any- 
 thing more, for you have gone far to make me a 
 perjured woman. I have already said too much, 
 and will say no more." 
 
 The interview being thus suddenly put an end 
 to, the party came away ; Villiers saying to Tro- 
 ven, as they returned towards the Temple 
 
 " You may report progress, and ask leave to sit 
 again ; but I fear I fear we have lost all clue." 
 
 " I do not think so," said Troven firmly; did 
 she not say that a child was found in the neigh- 
 bourhood of a gentleman's place, and that Mrs. 
 Tomlins had been seen by one of the servants. I 
 will find out the gentleman :" and, with a voice 
 somewhat broken, he added, " she spoke of a 
 common too all these things bear upon my case." 
 But he had scarcely finished the sentence when 
 
266 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 Jasper came up from behind, and said, " She 
 knows nothing about it, for I well recollect that 
 long before my mother took me to her house I was 
 living with her/' 
 
 " Yes," said Villiers, " in that the puzzle lies ; 
 you have been always treated as the son of Mrs. 
 Tomlins." 
 
 " As far back as I recollect," said the young 
 man modestly, with something like a feeling of 
 having said too much. 
 
 By this time they were arrivod at the Temple- 
 gate, where Villiers, bidding him come again next 
 morning, walked with Troven to his own cham- 
 bers. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 267 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IN the evening Troven, as advised by Villiers, 
 waited on Lord Buyborough to mention the result 
 of his enquiries, but, at his arrival, he was informed 
 that his Lordship was gone out to a party. The 
 lady and Miss Mordant, were, however, at home, 
 and he was shown into the room, where they were 
 sitting together. 
 
 Immediately on his entrance, Lady Buyborough 
 uttered something almost like a shout, and rising 
 alertly from her seat, met him in the middle of the 
 floor, with such expressions of joy as convinced 
 him that she had been speaking of him to the 
 other lady ; and, before he could make any 
 return to the eagerness of her welcome, she cried 
 out 
 
 " You have come in time what have you learnt? 
 we are all ear, and the more we sift the story, new 
 causes arise to make us think that at his father's 
 death, my lord's brother was not found ?" 
 
 As she said this, she drew Troven impatiently to 
 a chair, and, taking another beside him, repeated 
 the question. 
 
 In a few sentences Troven related what he had 
 
268 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 learnt; and particularly described the scene with 
 Mrs. Jenkins. 
 
 Miss Mordant, who was sitting on an adjacent 
 sofa listening to what he said, made no remark, 
 but sat still, as he. was relating what had passed. 
 He had not, however, said many sentences, when 
 she suddenly broke from her trance, and clapped 
 her hands as if transported by a sudden thought. 
 Both Troven and Lady Buyborough looked amazed , 
 for the demeanour of the young lady was ordina- 
 rily gentle and calm. On this occasion she was 
 prompted by the vivacity of a strong impulse, and 
 the Viscountess said 
 
 " Althea, what is the meaning of this ?" 
 
 Scarcely able to articulate with the vehemence 
 of her feeling, she then told them that she had no 
 doubt it was the prodigal daughter of Sir Mortimer 
 Cavendish, who was her grandfather's neighbour. 
 
 Troven, with some emotion, enquired what rea- 
 son she had for thinking so. 
 
 " I cannot give you reasons," said the young 
 lady, " but I have often heard it mentioned, that 
 about five-and-twenty years ago, Sir Mortimer had 
 a wild daughter, who imprudently eloped from his 
 house. Some years after, it was known that she 
 married a servant, what became of her afterwards 
 I never heard, but the name of her husband was 
 bless me, I forget I think " 
 
 "Tomlins!" exclaimed Troven. 
 
 " Aye, Tomlins, it was." 
 
 Troven sat some time silent, evidently ruminating; 
 and then remarked, that what she had heard did 
 not add any thing to their knowledge, but the 
 name of the gentleman whose servant had dis- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 269 
 
 covered the mother and the child wandering on the 
 road. 
 
 " I have heard of him," he ejaculated to him- 
 self " his mansion is not many miles from Dr. 
 Wy comb's. Am I, then, the wretched offspring of 
 that mad and guilty woman ?" 
 
 Soon after, he rose to go away, saying to Lady 
 Buyborough, that he would see his Lordship in the 
 morning ; at present he felt suddenly unwell, pro- 
 bably caused by his fatigue during the day. 
 
 The ladies saw his perturbation, which they, 
 ignorant of his story, ascribed more to indisposi- 
 tion, than to the effect of the young lady's disco- 
 very, and readily acquiesced in his excuse for 
 going away. Accordingly, he left the mansion; 
 and, on his departure, Althea mentioned what she 
 had heard of Sir Mortimer's imprudent daughter, 
 adding 
 
 " It was thought, at her marriage with Tomlins, 
 there would have been some relaxation of severity 
 on the part of her father, but he proved inexora- 
 ble, and was justified in his sternness by the mar- 
 riage itself; for the man which the ill-fated young 
 lady had selected, was, by all accounts, a worth- 
 less, roving, ill-conducted vagabond." 
 
 " That," said Lady Buyborough, " may be all 
 true ; but the child, the child which the servant saw 
 with her what became of him ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell ; he was found by a gentleman 
 who lived in the neighbourhood : but when I heard 
 the story, it was not mentioned what was done with 
 him." 
 
 " Aye," said Lady Buyborough, " he would be 
 sent to the workhouse as a foundling." 
 
270 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 " By the way," said Miss Mordant, " he was 
 called Troven, too. I wonder if our friend of that 
 name knows any thing about him ? I will tell him 
 the whole story when he comes to-morrow." 
 
 The Viscountess repeated to herself two or three 
 times the name of Troven, and said to Miss Mor- 
 dant 
 
 " I wonder, Althea, how you never came, in all our 
 perplexities, to mention this before. Troven if it 
 had been the same that we know, Buyborough would 
 have undoubtedly heard something of him before." 
 
 " Perhaps/' said Miss Mordant, " it was pru- 
 dent of his Lordship not to be too curious too 
 soon; dear Lady Buyborough, how could you have 
 stood to be called plain Mrs. Mordant, and with- 
 out a fortune ?" 
 
 Her ladyship looked very solemn at this search- 
 ing question, and replied loftily 
 
 " I trust that I have too much regard for what 
 is right, to keep from another what is truly his, be 
 the consequences to myself what they may." 
 
 Miss Mordant, with all her beauty, possessed a 
 stronger mind, and said, laughingly 
 
 " You are very heroineical, my fair cousin, be- 
 cause, hap what may, you must now be Lady Buy- 
 borough ; but it might have been another story, had 
 my lord continued in a lower rank of the peerage. " 
 
 " You are severe, Althea," said Lady Buy- 
 borough, " and you judge uncharitably of me ; 
 but it has often occurred to me as strange, how Lord 
 Buyborough so suddenly thought of a new title, 
 and the ardour of his suit to obtain it, when old 
 Mr. Piecroft first mentioned what Mr. Mordant 
 had told him." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 271 
 
 " It is very clear, said Althea, " that Mrs. Tom- 
 lins' son could not have been your brother-in-law; 
 so make yourself easy about the foundling they 
 call Troven, for it is very probable he was her son." 
 " Troven ! Troven !" said Lady Buy borough, 
 and then briskly added " my lord, if he return 
 in time, shall drive at once to our Mr. Troven's 
 chambers, and hear all that he knows. Troven 
 it must be something that I have heard from you 
 of the name before." 
 
 As she said these words, Lord Buyborough him- 
 self came into the room : he was pale, languid, and 
 complained of a stupor in the head, which had 
 forced him to return home sooner than he had ex- 
 pected, saying to his lady as he entered 
 
 " Do you know, I have had all day an in- 
 describable anxiety to see Mr. Troven. I wonder 
 what he has learnt that story of old Piecroft 
 troubles me more and more I have a dread upon 
 me that it is known to the public, and every eye I 
 meet seems fraught with curiosity. It is hard to be in- 
 nocent of any crime, and yet to suffer like the guilty." 
 Lady Buyborough then told him of our hero's 
 visit, and of Miss Mordant's recollection of Sir 
 Mortimer Cavendish's daughter, requesting him to 
 see Troven without delay. 
 
 The communication had a startling effect on the 
 noble lord. He rung for his carriage instantly, 
 and set off with the least possible delay to the 
 Temple, where he expected to find Troven; but 
 that gentleman was not in his chambers ; his lord- 
 ship was, therefore, obliged to return home and 
 pass the night in the best manner he could with 
 his unappeased anxiety. 
 
272 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE state in which Troven left the mansion of Lord 
 Buy borough cannot be described. The moment 
 that the door was shut behind him, his feelings, 
 like ignited gunpowder, instantly flashed, as it 
 were, into a flaming whirlwind. He ran, as if 
 ignominiously expelled : his heart beat, and a 
 singing sound like the noise of a distant cataract 
 rose in his ears. He never disputed with himself 
 if the story Miss Mordant told could be true. It 
 agreed in so many points with what he had heard, 
 believed, and had seen, that he could no longer 
 conceal from himself he woulcL prove to be the son 
 of Mrs. Tomlins, and that the young man who had 
 been brought up by her was Lord Buyborough's 
 brother. This thought was, however, now and 
 then softened by the recollection of the resem- 
 blance which he had discovered between the 
 younger and the elder Tomlins ; but it was a like- 
 ness which no other saw ; and the reflection soon 
 dispersed the hope it was calculated to inspire. 
 
 Instead of returning straight to the Temple, he 
 was so tossed about that he lost himself in the 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 273 
 
 streets ; and when his confusion abated, he found 
 he was in the way to Mrs. Servit's lodgings, led 
 unconsciously by instinct towards that garrulous 
 but motherly person. When he was admitted to 
 the apartment where she was sitting, she started 
 from her seat, and exclaimed 
 
 " What has happened ?" astonished at the wild- 
 ness of his look, his pale cheeks, and eyes which 
 glared without speculation. 
 
 " Sit down," she cried " Dear me, what's the 
 matter with you ? are you ill ? are you frighten- 
 ed ? that face so pale and wan, and these eyes 
 like oh, Mr. Edward, why are you thus dumb- 
 foundered ?" 
 
 It was some time before he could make any an- 
 swer, and when he did, it served to show that his 
 external appearance only indexed the shattered 
 state of his mind. 
 
 " It is all over," he exclaimed ; " the discovery 
 is complete." 
 
 " I'm sure," said Mrs. Servit, " that it is not ; 
 for you wouldn't look so startled, had even the 
 madcap woman, Tomlins, been found to be your 
 mother." 
 
 " She is," said Troven. 
 
 " No possible ; that could never be." But 
 there was less confidence in the manner this 
 was said, than was usual to her sanguine antici- 
 pations. 
 
 Troven enquired, after a short pause, if she had 
 ever heard any thing concerning a daughter of Sir 
 Mortimer Cavendish. 
 
 " Dear me ! was Mrs. Tomlins his donsy 
 daughter ?" 
 
 VOL. IV. T 
 
274 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 " Ask no questions," cried Troven, " only answer 
 me. What of his daughter ?" 
 
 " I remember," she replied, u that in the very 
 week I came to keep Mr. Pearl's house, Sir Mor- 
 timer's eldest daughter, who was spoken of as 
 a light-headed Miss, ran away with a recruiting 
 officer to London, and was never heard of more. 
 Merciful me ! did she marry Jasper Tomlins, when 
 he was in, as I may say, the ne'er-do-well line ? 
 Ah ! and was she that poor deluded creature ? 
 but what has put it into your head, Mr. Edward, 
 that ever such a flower of brimstone could be your 
 mother ?" 
 
 By this time Troven had become more composed, 
 and informed Mrs. Servit of what Miss Mordant 
 had related ; nor was it the least of his sufferings 
 that he heard the story from her. 
 
 Mrs. Servit listened to him with unbroken silence, 
 and at the conclusion said 
 " Is this all ?" 
 
 " I fear," said he, " it is too much." 
 " Faint heart never won fair lady," she ex- 
 claimed, with a tone of encouragement, adding 
 " when the worst comes to the waur, it must be 
 acknowledged that you are both by birth and 
 breeding a true gentleman ; only I always heard 
 that Sir Mortimer Cavendish was a pot-metal 
 hearted man, very just, however, for all that." 
 " But my father?" 
 
 " Oh ! if it's Jasper you mean, he 's no devoid 
 of a good quality. Indeed you spoke yourself of 
 him with commendation ; and the legacy left him 
 by Mrs. Maiden's friend, who was his master, tes- 
 tifies that he has long turned over a new leaf. Na 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 275 
 
 for that matter, I never knew him a rightful vaga- 
 bond, but only as a laddie whose hand was never 
 out of mischief, with a natural appetite for putting 
 young dogs to death. I dare say, however, that 
 he got the wyte of many an ill deed that was done 
 by others. But if it should turn out that he is 
 your father, it is, I'll allow, a misfortune. Surely, 
 however, there are worse fathers in the world than 
 poor Jasper : and if the truth were told, I would 
 say, that with all his faults, when I knew him he 
 was a good-looking young man ; since that time 
 he has mended his manners, and I would do a 
 very wrongous thing, if I did not say he behaves 
 himself now like an honest man." 
 
 In this speech Mrs. Servit made an effort be- 
 yond her strength : in the very endeavour to cheer 
 and give comfort her courage fled, and at this 
 turn of the discourse, her voice faltered, and she 
 suddenly burst into tears, crying, unawares 
 
 " Oh ! and have I lived to see you the son of 
 that reprobate, Jasper Tomlins ?" 
 
 Troven was now so far master of himself, that 
 he could not refrain from smiling, though pen- 
 sively, at this unexpected burst of feeling from the 
 old, kindhearted woman. In a little time, how- 
 ever, she dried her eyes, and said, in a tone of 
 hope 
 
 " I'll not believe it ; for although it migh tbe in 
 a sense something to your renown to be the grand- 
 son of that stone statue on St. Paul's, Sir Mor- 
 timer Cavendish, there is no necessity that Jasper 
 Tomlins should be your father ; and now that I 
 think on't, it's as plain as a pikestaff, that the 
 daffodil lady that knew all this pater-noster by 
 T 2 
 
276 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 heart, has been telling piper's news ; for what she 
 said we knew before. Surely I have been de- 
 mented not to think of that it's nothing new to tell 
 us that Dr. Wycombe, that fosy man, found you a 
 weeping and wandering bairn on the common ; we 
 all knew it long ago ; and as for this story 
 about Sir Mortimer's loup-the-dyke daughter, it 
 needs sifting ; for her son, that was sent to Indy, 
 was not a shadow, but a substance. It 's a clear 
 fact, and there is no argol-bargolling about it, that 
 you were brought to the common by somebody ; 
 that somebody may have been Mrs. Tomlins : that 
 I grant ; but prove to me she was your mother, 
 my man Mr. Edward ! If she had been so sib to 
 vou, she would not have left you wandering up 
 and down. Clear, therefore, it is to me, that Miss 
 Mordant knows nothing, and there is no cause to 
 be down-hearted." 
 
 In saying this, the wonted confidence of Mrs. 
 Servit returned ; but it had no effect on Troven. 
 Fear we dare use no other name had settled 
 upon the spirit of our hero ; and with eagle talons 
 held possession of his heart. 
 
 When he left Mrs. Servit for the night, he might 
 be less violently alarmed than when he joined her; 
 but his hope continued eclipsed, and he returned 
 towards the Temple chilled with the gloom. 
 
 On his arrival he went straight to the chambers 
 of Villiers, though the hour was late ; and on as- 
 cending the stairs he found him at home. 
 
 On entering, Villiers also saw by his appear- 
 ance that something greatly troubled him, although 
 he was comparatively recovered from the condition 
 in which he had gone to Mrs. Servit ; and he in- 
 
THE STOLEX CHILD. 277 
 
 ferred, that some unfavourable news to him had 
 transpired, but made no remark ; indeed, he felt 
 too much to be talkative. Their research in the 
 course of the day had been confirmatory of his 
 fears, even while he struggled to derive hope 
 from despair ; but with all his endeavours he 
 could bring: no fire from the flint. 
 
278 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 WHEN Troven had related to Villiers what passed 
 at Lord Buyborough's, and the persuasion which 
 Mrs. Servit still cherished respecting his parentage, 
 lie enquired, with some hesitation, what he would 
 recommend him to do. He felt, in fact, the he- 
 reditary inactivity of his family beginning to grow 
 upon him in the lassitude which succeeded the 
 strong excitement of the day, but Villiers re- 
 mained silent. He was sad, and it might be said, 
 from the state of his feelings, disappointed. Tro- 
 ven seeing him, as it were, unable to answer, con- 
 tinued his discourse by remarking, that perhaps 
 he should refrain from seeking to discover more, 
 and apply himself exclusively to his profession and 
 his literary engagements. 
 
 " It seems to me," said he, " that I shall not 
 increase my happiness nor importance by this 
 mazy pursuit : no doubt it would augment the 
 comforts of my life, which, by-the-bye, the en- 
 quiry has rather diminished, were I to ascertain 
 who are my parents, if they are respectable. But 
 it will add to my cares, which are already suffi- 
 ciently great, if they are not so. Lord Buyborough 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 279 
 
 is rich enough, and has a sufficient motive for per- 
 severing in the investigation : but it is a labour 
 from which I begin to think any one in my circum- 
 stances ought to recede." 
 
 " I should say so too," replied Villiers, " if you 
 could separate the personal character from the 
 professional ; but my apprehension is, that your 
 nature will not permit the separation. It is in this 
 point of view that we should look at the subject. 
 If you could adhere to the distinction that is ne- 
 cessary, it is clear that the employment of you as 
 a confidential adviser by one so rich as Lord Buy- 
 borough, is a prodigious stroke of good fortune. 
 There is no calculating to what it may lead ; but, 
 splendid as the prospect is, you have yourself, I 
 fear, something like too great a stake in the result : 
 for I am inclined to think, notwithstanding the 
 lambent hope that plays with Mrs. Servit's wishes, 
 you may be the son of Mrs. Tomlins ; if so, you 
 have talents, and that about you which foreruns 
 success. That Sir Mortimer Cavendish may relent 
 from his stern determination so far in time as to 
 recognise you, is the very utmost that you can 
 expect in the way of being assisted by your kin. 
 Yours is a perplexing case I cannot advise you 
 what to do." 
 
 " I do not know," replied Troven, " how it hap- 
 pens that the light which Miss Mordant has thrown 
 upon Mrs. Tomlin's fortunes should so molest me ; 
 it seems as if it had in it something of the nature 
 of flame ; it, however, does not scorch." 
 
 These words, carelessly uttered, had an imme- 
 diate effect on Villiers ; his gravity became more 
 severe, and, after an emphatic pursing of his lips, 
 
280 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 he enquired what sort of person was Miss Mor- 
 dant, and whether he thought her story the mere 
 echo of what she had heard, or a combination of 
 incidents, the effect of intelligence. The answer 
 of Troven consisted of a warm eulogium on her 
 personal beauty. 
 
 " I did not," said Villiers drily, " ask about 
 her charms as a woman, but merely of her tact as 
 an intelligent being." 
 
 And in saying these words, there was a kind of 
 cunning in his look, slightly tinged with archness. 
 Troven, however, did not observe it, but replied 
 to the question, remarking that she possessed su- 
 perior talent ; and that she showed more feeling 
 and discrimination in relating what she had heard 
 of Mrs. Tomlins, than most people would have 
 done in repeating a hearsay. 
 
 Villiers remained again silent, and then said, 
 with thoughtful solemnity 
 
 " You have much ability, and you have made a 
 very favourable impression, both as a speaker and 
 a lawyer. You may rise into eminence indeed 
 I have no doubt you will but your connexions 
 are unknown. The aristocracy pay great attention 
 to the matter of connexions. Your success rests 
 wholly on yourself. In the common course of 
 things, you must, therefore, be far advanced in life 
 before the full weight of your abilities can be 
 known. My young friend, I believe that your 
 best course is to escape from your engagements to 
 Lord Buyborough." 
 
 " I think so too," said Troven ; " what you 
 have been saying is in unison with my own reflec- 
 tions. I will not go to Lord Buyborough in the 
 morning." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 281 
 
 " There is prudence in the decision," said Vil- 
 liers ; " and a professional man has it always in 
 his power to frame a good excuse for not keeping 
 an appointment. But your absence will awaken 
 reflections ; and if they have not already there 
 thought, from your name, that you are the same 
 of whom Miss Mordant spoke, your absence in the 
 morning undoubtedly will make them." 
 
 " 1 have been very silly," said Troven, " to be 
 so uneasy about that : why should I have been so 
 loth to let them know my history ?" 
 
 66 Ah, did you so : then there can be no doubt 
 of it. You thought that the truth would not re- 
 dound to your importance. My young friend, you 
 are not half aware of the singleness and simplicity 
 of your own character : here, unconscious of your 
 meaning, you have been telling me, as plainly as 
 you could, that you are attached to Miss Mordant." 
 
 Troven pushed his chair back, and looked up, 
 surprised that such an accusation could be pos- 
 sible. 
 
 " Nay," said Villiers, " it is not the least of 
 your misfortunes to be so : but as it is, in every 
 way in which it can be considered, a hopeless pas- 
 sion, again I say, prudence dictates that you should 
 rupture your intercourse with the family at Buy- 
 borough House : you can entertain no hopes in that 
 high quarter." 
 
 16 True," exclaimed Troven, " if I be no other 
 than the son of Mrs. Tomlins ; but if I am my 
 Lord's brother " 
 
 66 Poh, poh !" cried Villiers, " that is a lover's 
 dream ; and, if I listen to it, it is like Jupiter I 
 can only laugh at it." 
 
282 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 In this manner they continued talking to a late 
 hour ; and, when Troven bade his friend good 
 night, he was convinced that the flushing hopes 
 of his youth were at an end. He was no longer 
 the same being that he had once been. He had 
 not, it is true, entirely ascertained his origin ; but 
 he had discovered enough to make him ponder, 
 to pause, as it were, and collect his reason. He 
 was much disturbed, and, when he returned into 
 his own chambers, he was unsettled all his pur- 
 poses of life driving adrift. 
 
 He sat down ; he recalled the incidents of the 
 busy day which had passed, and endeavoured -to 
 pick, as it were, out of the disordered mass, some- 
 thing on which he could rely, but it was in vain ; 
 sometimes the vague and wild conjectures of his 
 early, old, and surpassing friend, Mrs. Servit, 
 seemed to furnish a little consolation ; but ever 
 and anon, the recollection of Mrs. Tomlins re- 
 turned upon him with disagreeable reminiscences. 
 At other times he thought of the young man 
 whom she had nurtured as her son, but he could 
 fix on no steady train of thought ; and Villiers, 
 whose friendship could not be doubted, had treated 
 him with a harsh plainness which he thought might 
 have been spared. Moreover, that gentleman he 
 regarded as prone to expect he would be found 
 of a base origin ; nor could he deny to himself 
 that there was something like truth in an observa- 
 tion which fell from him. 
 
 " If you had been," said Villiers, " of a rank 
 much above the lowest, we should have long since 
 heard of many rewards offered for the strayed or 
 stolen boy." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 I^ the morning, after a sleepless night, Troven 
 rose ; and, as it would be some time before the 
 laundress would arrive to make his breakfast, he 
 sat down to write the letter, which, upon con- 
 sideration, he had determined to address to Lord 
 Buyborough, declining all further interference in 
 his private affairs. The letter was neat in the ex- 
 pression ; very sensible, and remarkably fair in the 
 writing, as every letter so concocted, uniformly 
 appears. He frankly acknowledged that he had 
 been inexplicably remiss in not acquainting his 
 Lordship before of his equivocal origin; confirmed 
 the statement of Miss Mordant, and confessed that 
 he was the same young man Troven, to whom she 
 had alluded. He then mentioned his fears that he 
 might be found the son of Mrs. Tomlins, having 
 obtained a knowledge of circumstances which 
 strengthened that opinion ; but he said that there 
 was another young man of the same age, of a low 
 condition, who claimed her for his mother ; and 
 concluded that he would give all the information 
 in his power to any agent whom his Lordshin 
 
284 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 would appoint : but that his Lordship must see he 
 was actuated by propriety in entirely abstaining, 
 till the question was settled, from that personal in- 
 tercourse with which he had been honoured, and, 
 in cultivating which he had enjoyed so much plea- 
 sure. 
 
 By the time he had finished the letter and made 
 it up, the laundress came into the room, and he 
 sent her to one of the porters to deliver it. While 
 she was absent on this errand, he sat ruminating 
 on what might be the fruits of the discovery, con- 
 siderably abashed at the turn which the inquiry 
 had so suddenly taken. Painful, however, as it 
 was, he saw that it would not have much effect on 
 his professional career ; and, accordingly, he re- 
 solved to conduct himself undeviatingly, on the line 
 he had previously chosen. The resolution re- 
 minded him that the time had elapsed in which he 
 should have contributed to one of the periodicals ; 
 and when he reflected how profitless had been his 
 activity in the time he had allotted for writing his 
 contribution, and had of course diminished his in- 
 come for the ensuing month, he felt greatly cha- 
 grined, particularly when he beheld the printer's 
 boy enter the room with a note, which he immedi- 
 ately delivered. 
 
 This was an urgent request for his copy, as a 
 place had been reserved for the insertion, which 
 must be filled up with something from his pen, 
 because reliance had been placed on his punctu- 
 ality ; intimating that the boy was directed to wait 
 for manuscript. 
 
 There was nothing in the note but its urgency 
 remarkable, but he felt himself in such a frame of 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 285 
 
 mind that he could not put two consecutive sen- 
 tences of common sense together ; yet much de- 
 pended on his sending something. However, he 
 requested the boy to return in the course of an 
 hour or two, when he would have endeavoured to 
 make up for his neglect. 
 
 The boy, accordingly, went away ; and his 
 breakfast being by this time set out, he set in to 
 the repast, with no great appetite, reflecting on 
 what subject he could easiest and most rapidly 
 write, exclaiming to himself, "Truly, he said wisely, 
 who observed that literature was a good amuse- 
 ment, but without some adjunct calling, sad sla- 
 very. They do wrong who would exalt the produc- 
 tions of a man's own hand to himself above any 
 other species of labour. Daily toil, whether of the 
 pen, the pencil, or the plough, is still but labour ; 
 and the author feels at times the same loathing 
 that makes the hardship of the hind. He tires of 
 his task ; for, when it is pursued as a profession, 
 it merits no other epithet. All that makes the em- 
 ployment superior to ordinary drudgery, is the 
 work of printers and publishers, just as with more 
 profit the designer of a manufacture engages in a 
 better trade." 
 
 " However," continued he, rising from the break- 
 fast-table, " this course of thought will not supply 
 copy to the printer ; and I must be active, for the 
 time is short to which I am limited." 
 
 He, accordingly, sat down to the writing-table ; 
 and, after many attempts to put his thoughts upon 
 paper, he found the effort unavailing. More than 
 half the time he had allowed to the boy had elapsed 
 before he could begin his paper ; tears of vexation 
 
286 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 at the sterility with which he was smitten burst 
 forth, for he was in a sensitive humour, and deemed 
 himself among the melancholy number of those 
 who possess an inward consciousness of being des- 
 tined to find life a constant probation, and a race 
 unrequited by any prize. 
 
 He at last flung down his pen in despair ; but, 
 in the course of a few minutes, a more manly vi- 
 gour returned, and, instead of giving way to the 
 current of his fate, he resolved, in the emergency 
 with which he was so overwhelmed, to have re- 
 course to an examination of his papers ; and among 
 them, before the boy returned, he had selected an 
 essay. 
 
 While he was employed in this selection, Villiers 
 entered, who had scarcely passed a pleasanter night; 
 his mind, at no time displaying great equanimity, 
 was really, to do him justice, excoriated with vex- 
 ation. He thought that he had not acquitted 
 himself so well as he might have done, and was 
 anxious to atone for his error by some explanation 
 concerning himself. It was all he could do, for 
 his utmost sympathy was already exhausted. 
 
 " I have come," said he, " to tell you something 
 of myself, as the only excuse I can make for 
 seemingly being less friendly, in this crisis of your 
 fortune, than I really am." 
 
 Troven requested him to be seated, and said 
 
 " If I knew you less, the variable temper you 
 have recently manifested, would have affected me 
 more ; but, knowing the unalloyed bullion of your 
 character, the spurts of vexation, in which you 
 have indulged, produced very little effect. I re- 
 gretted them more on your own account, for the 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 287 
 
 sourness of the cud you would afterwards chew, 
 than on my own." 
 
 " It gives me pleasure to hear you treat them so 
 lightly ; and the only atonement I can make is, to 
 inform you of my own history, a topic, disagreeable 
 to recall, but which, without it is known, you can- 
 not do justice to the sentiments of regard that I 
 have struggled to produce." 
 
 " I am all attention," replied Troven ; " and, as 
 the remembrance it awakens, is painful to your- 
 self, make a short story of it. I dare not, in truth, 
 say that I do not wish to hear it." 
 
 " In incident, it is not remarkable," said Villiers; 
 " it derives all its interest from my own feelings ; 
 but it is too soon to tell it all from the beginning, 
 I shall, therefore, only relate to you the public 
 portion what all the world may know ; the private 
 cannot yet be told, nor may it ever ; but the com- 
 bustion of my spirit may be guessed by what I in- 
 tend to tell." 
 
 " When I came to London I was then in the 
 spring of life ; hope was in full bloom with me, 
 and all around sunshine and gaiety. I had, how- 
 ever, no friends in this great town, but I brought 
 with me from the country, a mail load of intro- 
 ductions and testimonials ; and behind I left a 
 multitude of persons who professed great kindness, 
 and many of them proved afterwards effectual pa- 
 trons. 
 
 " My reception by the gentlemen to whom I was 
 introduced was various; doubtless the consequence 
 of their intimacy or obligations with or to the wri- 
 ters of the letters ; some received me cordially, 
 others coolly ; and those whom I had understood 
 
288 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 to have been most prosperous, did not show any 
 very animated gratitude to fortune. 
 
 " In delivering the letters I made a curious re- 
 mark, one of the earliest which gave me any 
 right insight of the human heart. To three or four 
 of the gentlemen I had several letters, and, in de- 
 livering them, I observed in what manner they re- 
 spectively looked at them, and was led, in conse- 
 quence, to infer something of their value, nor have 
 I been erroneous in my conclusions. 
 
 " From those who opened the letters of their 
 business-correspondents first, the augury of recep- 
 tion was not favourable, but the result proved its 
 correctness when the letters of private friends were 
 preferred, especially when, besides that preference, 
 the subsequent conversation was directed to ascer- 
 tain on what footing I stood with the writers. Ac- 
 cording to the degree of my intimacy, was the 
 friendliness of my reception. 
 
 " When I had delivered all my letters, received 
 many dinners, but no advices, I saw very distinctly 
 that none were likely to be of any use, and con- 
 cluded, with my natural decision, that every thing 
 in life depended on myself. 
 
 " The discovery was not exhilarating : on the 
 contrary, it made me, for some time, morose and 
 recluse ; but when I had thought better, my mood 
 changed I became a little sterner than I was 
 previously, and much more systematic than my 
 former acquaintance would probably have given 
 me credit for. 
 
 " Finding that I was to derive no assistance 
 from others, I began to look about for myself, and 
 soon found the most suitable connexion in all 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 289 
 
 London. A co-partnery was formed, and its suc- 
 cess was gratifying ; but it had not been long es- 
 tablished when I observed that my partner became 
 restless, and proposed to spend a short time with 
 his friends. 
 
 " He was a delicate young man, endowed with 
 many qualities that made him interesting, and I 
 had great pleasure in acceding to his wishes. 
 
 " The excessive warmth with which my acqui- 
 escence was received surprised me, and was in- 
 creased to something like amazement at the sud- 
 denness afterwards of his departure, which, unfor- 
 tunately, soon was explained. He had been 
 engaged in business before we came together ; but 
 as sufficient time had elapsed, I believed all his 
 transactions were closed. Scarcely, however, had 
 he left town, when my attention was excited to- 
 wards them ; and I learned, with grief, that he had 
 not paid off, but only renewed, his bills. This 
 discovery led to inquiry, and I soon also ascer- 
 tained that he was insolvent not to a great 
 amount, it is true but the deception was great : 
 however. I paid the bills, and wrote to him what 
 had been discovered. 
 
 " His conduct, when he knew I was acquainted 
 with the fact, and what I had done, was exem- 
 plary and contrite. He returned to town, and 
 evinced himself in all respects possessed of the in- 
 tegrity and qualities for which at first I had trusted 
 him ; but the concealment could not be over- 
 looked ; and accordingly, I at once frankly told 
 him that, save in the counting-house, I should not 
 know him. 
 
 " The ingenuousness of his disposition taught 
 VOL. iv. u 
 
290 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 him to acknowledge that he could expect no other 
 treatment. Alas ! I have had to endure a greater 
 deception. For twelve months we never exchanged 
 words, save on matters of business ; but at the 
 expiry of the year, I told him he had amply satis- 
 fied me, and that, if he had no objection, our for- 
 mer intimacy should be renewed. 
 
 " Not many months had subsequently elapsed, 
 when we found ourselves embarrassed by difficul- 
 ties that had overtaken a correspondent to whom 
 we were much obliged. We did all in our power 
 to assist him, and for some time not without effect; 
 but his case was worse than we had imagined he 
 suddenly became bankrupt. In the midst of our 
 distress, another case of the same kind occurred, 
 and our means were perplexed. 
 
 " I need not trouble you with the difficulties 
 that then in a strong stream set in upon us : we 
 experienced the truth of the proverb, t that it 
 never rains but it pours/ and were unable to wea- 
 ther the storm, which we might have done, but 
 we had no friends who would interest themselves 
 for us. I had none to whom I could apply ; and 
 my partner, after the drains of his previous trans- 
 actions, none who would afford him any advance. 
 Thus I became an adventurer. 
 
 " Nevertheless, the flush of prosperity which 
 overspread the commerce of the kingdom, soon 
 enabled me, by another connexion, to overcome 
 my first disappointment. 
 
 " But in this there was a sterility of fortune. I 
 resolved no longer to pursue the rainbow ; and, 
 locking up ambition, composed myself for a very 
 humble, quiet life. This determination was unfor- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 291 
 
 tunately not lasting : a brilliant proposal was made 
 to me too fascinating to be overlooked by one less 
 aspiring. I acceded to it, and again was involved 
 in a speculative life : but the war beset me anew ; 
 my prospects were dissolved they proved as base- 
 less as the fabric of a vision. 
 
 " Still bright things dawned around me, and 
 from various quarters, I received public trusts 
 till all the dreams of my youth were renewed, and 
 I became an object of envy. The demon fastened 
 upon me, and being allied to a power which I 
 could not overcome, at last subdued me. 
 
 " With that infatuation to which some are driven, 
 those who should, for their own sakes, have been 
 lenient, were induced to persecute me not from 
 malice, I believe, but by thinking my resources 
 greater than they remained after so many disasters. 
 Scotched, but not killed, I overcame this too, and 
 began again in the same line of speculations, and 
 succeeded in all that was necessary to secure suc- 
 cess : but the times were now changed ; my asso- 
 ciates trembled for the hazards that required only 
 courage to overcome, and, after afflicting delays, I 
 found myself obliged to withdraw from them. It 
 was not without reluctance I did this. 
 
 " After encountering so many misfortunes, the 
 hope lay not within the range of probability, that 
 in the vale of life into which I was descending, the 
 wide and shining prospects would be seen again 
 that opened around when my youth was on the 
 mountain-top. From that time, my steps have 
 been limited to a circle that vicissitude cannot 
 enter. The rim may be narrow, but beyond it 
 temptation can no longer allure. I am not alto- 
 u 2 
 
292 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 gether sequestered from former associates. Expe- 
 rience has taught me that I erred when I first ab- 
 jured a speculative life ; but I cultivate no new 
 acquaintance the old, perhaps, have so much to 
 do of their own, that they begin to forget me. It 
 is commonly supposed among them, that I am 
 studying law, and will be soon called to the bar. 
 Poor men ! they know not what I am, if they ima- 
 gine Icould, at my time of life, be such a fool. 
 Law-books I never touch, you know well ; and 
 only when required do I appear even to those with 
 whom I am most intimate. I am the hermit of the 
 Temple as abstracted from society, its cares, 
 pursuits, and politics, as he of the wilderness ; and 
 in this condition I will spend the days of my old 
 age. Here I shall be always found, ever ready to 
 give you the counsel of a man, whose experience 
 of his kind has been extensive, if not singular 
 and various, if not profound." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHEN Lord Buyborough received the letter of our 
 hero, it produced an effect not anticipated ; for 
 though his lordship was a very good sort of man, 
 he was no philosopher. Smooth and polished in 
 his address, he possessed no particular endow- 
 ment. It did not, however, much matter ; he 
 was a peer of the realm, and he had, in his man- 
 ners, many of the best aristocratic qualities. Those 
 who cannot discriminate these from the features 
 of character, are apt to imagine that there i& a 
 great difference between lords and ladies, and men 
 and women a fault which the French critics 
 long ago objected to in Shakspeare's characters. 
 Voltaire discovered the commonalty of his kings 
 and queens. But as we are not of the French 
 school, and do not walk our dramatis persona 
 with heralds and trumpets in procession, we are 
 inclined to follow the mode of Shakspeare, and to 
 
294 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 show that the higher orders differ as much in cha- 
 racter as the lower, but conceal that difference 
 with the habit of discipline. To return. 
 
 The letter of Troven, instead of exciting respect, 
 inflamed Lord Buyborough : it is not easy to say 
 why, but the fact is indisputable ; and he really 
 thought there was in it something like obtrusion. 
 But as no manipulation can make the sandstone 
 into marble, we need not dwell on this misappre- 
 hension ; the more especially as, upon reflection, 
 he could not discern any warranty for such a con- 
 clusion. Miss Mordant, indeed, endeavoured to 
 set him right by describing the effect which her 
 story had on Troven, regretting that, merely be- 
 cause his origin was known, he should, without al- 
 teration, so fade in their esteem, advising his lordship 
 to employ him in his enquiry confidentially again. 
 
 " It cannot," said she, " be now a tedious work ; 
 for if he is the son of Mrs. Tomlins, the other 
 young man of whom he speaks is the object to 
 which your attention should be directed." 
 
 " But," replied his lordship, " it would not be 
 according to Hoyle, if a person of my rank, after 
 such a letter, were to apply to this man again, 
 even though I greatly esteem his talents ; but low 
 people have always something about them which 
 makes them forget what is due to those of a supe- 
 rior condition." 
 
 " You speak harshly, my lord," said Miss Mor- 
 dant, " he may, perhaps, feel that he is supe- 
 rior " 
 
 At these words she felt that her desire to vin- 
 dicate Troven had betrayed her into an inadver- 
 tency, and she bit her lips, and blushed a little. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 295 
 
 " One would be inclined to think/' said his 
 lordship, " he had imagined himself possibly my 
 elder brother." 
 
 " Possibly," said Miss Mordant ; for the light 
 in which Lord Buyborough seemed disposed to 
 consider Troven, was not, in her opinion, fair. 
 There was, indeed, at the bottom of her feeling, 
 a lurking wish that he were his brother, almost 
 unconscious to herself of its existence ; for although 
 it would be wrong to call it love, it was of that 
 kind of regard which time and opportunity might 
 ripen into affection. However, his lordship was 
 not to be moved by argument from the resolution 
 he had adopted at the moment he received the 
 letter, namely, to ask no further the interference 
 of Troven. In this blind determination he seemed 
 to forget the exact predicament in which he him- 
 self stood ; for it was undoubtedly formed without 
 any respect to the effect which his inheritance 
 might be exposed to were his brother found. It 
 thus happened that no answer was returned to the 
 letter, nor the offer of Troven to inform an agent, 
 attended to ; and he acted on the occasion more 
 as a lord than a man. But this mistake was soon 
 corrected by an authority to whom he was more 
 in the practice of deferring than to Miss Mor- 
 dant. 
 
 The regular lawyer perceived at once the drift 
 and spirit of the letter, and told his lordship that 
 much necessarily depended on proving the event 
 of his brother's disappearance, and the wandered 
 child being found to have been coeval with it. 
 
 " In short," said he, " we have no alternative : 
 Mr. Mordant, it would seem from Piecroft/s story, 
 
296 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 is alive to some flaw in your lordship's possession 
 of the family inheritance ; he will propagate an 
 account of it for the sake of his own family ; and 
 it is no longer to be doubted that your brother did 
 not die in childhood, or rather, to say the truth, 
 he was in childhood stolen. Mr. Troven is neces- 
 sary to us ; and your lordship must overlook any 
 indecorum which he, in his letter, may have com- 
 mitted." 
 
 " All evidence," replied , Lord Buyborough, 
 " calculated to elucidate the truth, must not only 
 be taken, but sought for. I would retain no man's 
 right, not for a moment ; so that, if you think 
 Mr. Troven of importance, I can have no objection 
 to receive what he has to state : but he ought not 
 to have presumed to treat me on quite so much 
 an equality." 
 
 The solicitor was a worldly man, but honourable, 
 and replied 
 
 66 Your lordship would be, no doubt, correct, 
 were Troven in all things a common man ; but 
 much should be overlooked for his feelings as a 
 foundling." 
 
 66 Oh, he is no foundling," said Lord Buy- 
 borough ; " he is the disreputable son of Miss 
 Cavendish." 
 
 " He may turn out to be so," replied the soli- 
 citor, " but the fact is not ascertained : we have 
 yet to prove that the child, whom the servant saw 
 with her near the common on which Troven was 
 found, was her son we want proof of that. The 
 other young man has all his life passed as her son, 
 and believes himself so to be. I entreat your lord- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 297 
 
 ship to consider that there is the strongest reason 
 to believe that Troven was not her son." 
 
 Lord Buyborough was disturbed, he knew not 
 wherefore, at hearing one, whom he considered deep 
 in his interests, talking in this way. It seemed 
 somehow to him that the solicitor should not have 
 spoken so ; but he had discernment enough to per- 
 ceive that he was a man actuated by integrity in 
 what he said, and replied 
 
 " Then you do think the information, which Mr. 
 Troven may have it in his power to give, im- 
 portant." 
 
 " It ought not to be overlooked," said the law- 
 yer ; " for although the discovery of your lord- 
 ship's elder brother, so long forgotten, may not be 
 made, yet it becomes the rank and character of 
 your lordship to make every possible enquiry." 
 
 " I intend so : my instructions to you are to do 
 all in the best manner ; but I did not think Mr. 
 Troven's evidence could have been so important." 
 
 " My lord," replied the man of law, " I ac- 
 knowledge that his letter is not couched in a 
 proper spirit to a man of your lordship's rank ; but, 
 in consideration of his peculiar situation, any im- 
 propriety in it must be forgotten." 
 
 " Very well," said his lordship ; " though my 
 brother were known to all the world to be yet 
 alive, I would not change the mode of my pro- 
 ceeding. I wish the truth to be ascertained, and 
 I hope that all who know me will be ready to be- 
 lieve that I am prepared to acknowledge his right 
 without questioning his deservings." 
 
 " Every one/' rejoined the lawyer, " will be- 
 
298 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 lieve that ; but, if it should be discovered that the 
 young man so disreputably educated is your bro- 
 ther, it will be rather a trial of temper to endure 
 the reflection." 
 
 " Undoubtedly it would," said his lordship 
 " I would rather have Troven." 
 
 This was more than the lawyer could withstand : 
 and, as if he put an end to their consultation, he 
 he gathered a few papers which were before him 
 together, and smiling, said facetiously 
 
 " It is a case in which there is no choice; 
 younger brothers are but seldom consulted about 
 the birth of their elders." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 299 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WHILE fate was evidently busy in hastening on 
 the development of the mystery which hung around 
 Troven, Jasper Tomlins, the father, was not idle, 
 however little his endeavours ministered to that 
 purpose. When he had seen the sailor who bore 
 his name, and who considered Mrs. Tomlins as his 
 mother, he waited on Mrs. Servit, for, with all her 
 peculiarities, it was impossible to know her without 
 feeling a sentiment of regard, notwithstanding the 
 odd and peculiar eccentricities to which she was 
 prone. Independently of having known her many 
 years before, he had considered her, from the time 
 of his arrival in London, as his only sincere friend. 
 
 On the self-same day that the interview which 
 we have just recorded between Lord Buyborough 
 and his solicitor took place, he accordingly waited 
 on the old lady. 
 
 " Well, but/' said she, after hearing what he 
 had to say, " and is the ne'er-do-weel your son ?" 
 
 " He is," said Jasper, " a very nice, good-look- 
 ing, though shamefaced " 
 
 " Oh, he cannot be your son, then/' inter- 
 
300 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 > 
 
 rupted Mrs. Servit ; " ye need say no more to me 
 about it." 
 
 " But," cried the father, who was prepossessed 
 in the young man's favour by having seeing him, 
 " he is no longer a ne'er-do-weel he is a very 
 'sponsible lad." 
 
 " Aye, aye," said she, " you may say so ; but 
 what was he before Mr. Villiers sent him to Indy ? 
 Never tell me that a ship is not as good a school 
 to learn tricks in as a jail : but, to speak the 
 words of truth and soberness, how has it come to 
 pass that he is your son ?" 
 
 Jasper was not quite pleased with the doubts 
 she expressed, and said, rather with a tone of 
 pride, that he had just learned from Mr. Villiers 
 that there was some reason to suppose that his 
 mother was the daughter of Sir Mortimer Ca- 
 vendish. 
 
 " And what is he the better for that ?" cried 
 Mrs. Servit ; " wasn't she a disowned daughter, 
 and died in a state of sin and misery ?" 
 
 " But she was my wife." 
 
 " A pretty-like choice she made !" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Servit. " No, no, Jasper ; I have a four- 
 leafed clover in my pouch to protect me from such 
 glammour as that : and what did you make of her 
 being a baronet's runagate daughter ?" 
 
 " I'll not deny," was the answer, " that she had 
 her faults, and 
 
 " Faults !" exclaimed Mrs. Servit ; " wasn't she 
 such that even you could not live with her ?" 
 
 " But," cried Tomlins, " she was a baronet's 
 daughter that was something." 
 
 " Well, Jasper, I see you have not only found a 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 301 
 
 son, but got a new light anent that worthless wo- 
 man, so it's needless for me to blaspheme the cha- 
 racter of such a randy. But are you sure that her 
 son is really yours ?" 
 
 " Why, she said he was her son, and of course, 
 as I was her husband, he must be mine also." 
 
 " Oh, Jasper ! I never thought you were such a 
 sumph as to speak such evendown nonsense." 
 
 " Do you not think he was her son ?" 
 
 " To be sure I do," cried Mrs. Servit ; " what's 
 that? It's easy for such cattle to call the wild 
 Scot of Galloway their sons when it suits their own 
 ends. However, you are now satisfied that Mr. 
 Edward could be no son of yours, as I told you, 
 which, for truth, may be said was words of Scrip- 
 ture." 
 
 " Ah," said Jasper, " you cut before the point. 
 I did not say that the young man was more than 
 in a certain sense my son, but only that I had 
 . seen him, and that he was a very well-doing, mo- 
 dest lad." 
 
 66 And let me tell you that I would as soon be- 
 lieve that you can say the one hundred and nine- 
 teenth Psalm by heart, with such marks, that he 
 can ever be your son. You could not, Jasper, 
 give to the likes of me better proof than that, he is 
 no son of yours ; you'll as soon persuade me that 
 a grumphie is a nightingale, as that a serious, well- 
 bred, pious young man could be your son." 
 
 " I did not say," replied Jasper, diffidently, 
 " that he was a religious, pious, young man, be- 
 cause I have not yet had time to probe his faith." 
 
 " Eh ?" exclaimed Mrs. Servit ; " probe his 
 faith ?" 
 
302 THE STOLEN IIILD. 
 
 "lam not now," he continued, " what I was 
 long ago : there is a meeting of Christians in our 
 parish, and I have seen the error of my way. Oh, 
 Mrs. Servit, it will be happy for you if you would 
 have a rightful consideration." 
 
 " Are my lugs marrows?" she exclaimed "is 
 Jasper Tomlins converting me ?" 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Servit," replied he, "little do you 
 know of what has come to pass ; since the day 
 that I was born in grace, I have been an altered 
 man !" 
 
 " There was great need of it," said Mrs. Servit. 
 
 " Yes, there was great need of it, or I could 
 not have so abided your taunts ; but I have been 
 taught to hold up the cheek of resignation to the 
 smiter." 
 
 " Jasper !" said the old lady, " are you the Jas- 
 per that I knew long ago ?" 
 
 " No," was the sedate reply " I have since 
 been born again, and my coming to you this day 
 was to see if I might refer to you for my charac- 
 ter, as I intend to advertise for a place in an 
 evangelical family." 
 
 " I hope you will put in the papers, too," ex- 
 claimed the incredulous old woman, " that you have 
 the gift of tongues. Jasper ! Jasper ! you '11 never 
 suit the gentleman that advertises for a groom who 
 does not whistle ' On board the Arethusa/ But 
 what has put an evangelical family m your head ?" 
 
 It is needless, however, to continue this tran- 
 script of their conversation. He had become con- 
 verted in the country by some new-light enthusi- 
 asts, of whom the best thing that can be said is, 
 that the practical effect of their particular dogmas 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 303 
 
 had a beneficial influence on character. From 
 the time he left his wife, a feeling of penitence 
 had been awakened in him, and made him fit to 
 receive their discipline. He really said truly, when 
 he spoke of himself as an altered man ; for what- 
 ever were their dogmas, good works were required 
 from their proselytes, as the evidences of their 
 faith ; and this the contrite had literally interpret- 
 ed ; nor did it detract from his merits that he sin- 
 cerely endeavoured to prove the efficacy on con- 
 duct of the test they required. 
 
 Till the confession of his repentance, Mrs. Servit 
 had no respect whatever for any thing that he said ; 
 but the jargon in which he expressed himself, had 
 on her the power of a spell, like the words of po- 
 tency that rule in incantations She was immedi- 
 ately seized with a pious horror at her own levity, 
 exclaiming 
 
 " What have I been about, to be talking to a 
 repentant sinner ? Well, well, Jasper, you are a 
 brand plucked from the burning ; and I would be 
 ill worthy of acceptation, if I did not do all in my 
 power to establish your feet, and set you on your 
 way rejoicing. I can, therefore, only say, that we 
 live surely in the latter days of this world ; for if 
 you are of the elect, you '11 not be surprised to 
 hear me say, that miracles will never cease." 
 
304 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 WE have now to record an interesting effect which 
 the state of things, at this stage of our story, had 
 on our hero. Whether Troven thought that the 
 chances were against him, of proving himself Lord 
 Buyborough's elder brother, or hope had been 
 awakened that it would at last be manifest, is im- 
 possible to say. There are situations in which fear 
 performs the part of hope, and his was one of 
 these. 
 
 The apprehension of being the son of Mrs. Tom- 
 lins, furnished him with a constant topic of reflec- 
 tion. Among other phantasies that it gave rise to, 
 the radiant image of Miss Althea Mordant often 
 shone with predominant lustre. 
 
 Like the elder Jasper, the consideration of Mrs. 
 Tomlins' birth and connections, in spite of himself, 
 inspired him with a sentiment similar to pride, and 
 he often thought the distance between him and 
 Miss Mordant was, in consequence, diminished. 
 
 When, at times, the possibility of being the bro- 
 ther of Lord Buyborough gleamed across his mind, 
 the diminution was still greater, and hope gave 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD 305 
 
 nourishment to love. Thus it happened that the 
 resolution not to visit his Lordship till his true con- 
 dition was ascertained, contributed to strengthen 
 and exalt his passion ; for, at this time the glow- 
 ing feeling with which he was animated, cannot be 
 called by any other name. It seemed, indeed, to 
 grow more intense by time a fire that derived 
 fuel from the most equivocal circumstances. For, 
 although in some cases he partook of the easy tem- 
 perament of his family, his peculiar situation gave 
 an impulse to the energies of his character which 
 completely mastered all other inherent qualities. 
 Even the very consciousness of his unconnected 
 condition tended to increase the fervour kindled 
 within him, and that which with many might have 
 ministered to despair prompted to enterprise. 
 
 The young lady herself was not entirely passive, 
 but the modesty of the sex veiled her predilection ; 
 and what was felt by herself as love was never 
 shown to others, but as the gentler equanimity 
 that waits upon esteem. The suspension of his 
 intercourse only made her remember him the more 
 earnestly ; for it is one of the curious symptoms of 
 that subtle enthusiasm with which she was infect- 
 ed, to draw nourishment from those precautions 
 which reason often suggests as the most subversive 
 expedients. It thus came to pass that Troven and 
 Miss Mordant mutually experienced the spells of 
 undivulged passion. Without being sensible how 
 much they separately ruminated of one another, 
 they could not disguise from themselves, that of 
 all the world, each was to each the most interest- 
 ng person. It never occurred to them, however, 
 that their affection was reciprocal. Troven allayed 
 VOL. iv. x 
 
306 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 his aspirations by thinking of the disparity of their 
 determined respective ranks, and by calling to mind 
 his solitariness, and how much he had to achieve 
 in the sterner duties of his profession, before he 
 could indulge in the fond reveries of dalliance and 
 love. 
 
 He was in this state of mind when Mr. Audley, 
 Lord Buyborough's solicitor, called on him, with 
 the letter he had written to his Lordship. 
 
 " Mr. Troven," said he, " you can hardly be 
 surprised at seeing me on the business which in- 
 duced you to write this letter to the Viscount. The 
 only thing that excites surprise is, that, acquainted 
 with your own situation, you should, up to this 
 step, have so wisely counselled his Lordship to do 
 what he has done." 
 
 Troven did not immediately reply, but looked 
 steadily at Mr. Audley for some time ; he could 
 discern, however, nothing in his appearance which 
 betrayed a lower character than an intelligent and 
 well-bred man ; he then said 
 
 " Your remark almost perplexes me. Cannot 
 you imagine that it is possible I may have enter- 
 tained for Lord Buyborough a very particular re- 
 gard ?" 
 
 Mr. Audley made no reply ; but he had a habit 
 of biting his nether lip, when any unexpected oc- 
 currence surprised him ; and, on this occasion, he 
 unconsciously gave way to the custom as Troven 
 continued. 
 
 " Upon reflection, Mr. Audley, I will be expli- 
 cit. I am indebted to his Lordship for much civi- 
 lity ; but, above all, to his being the first who re- 
 cognized me as a friend, in a crisis of my fortunes 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 307 
 
 most important. I could, therefore, with no com- 
 mon feeling, reflect on the degradation of condi- 
 tion that awaited him, if what Mr. Piecroft had 
 heard was true, and his elder brother should be 
 found. I, therefore, advised that augmentation of 
 rank which he has attained." 
 
 " You acted very judiciously," said Mr. Audley ; 
 " but you know, if the elder brother is found the 
 estates must still go to him." 
 
 "True," said bur hero, U I thought of that, but 
 he must trust to Providence, that his brother, if 
 ever discovered, will make a suitable provision for 
 him ; and he will be let down softly from the great 
 opulence which he has hitherto enjoyed." 
 
 Mr. Audley, at this speech again bit his lip, 
 and it occurred to him that Troven would not have 
 made it, had he not fostered some magnanimous 
 notion of his being himself the elder brother. He, 
 however, gave no utterance to this idea, but com- 
 plimented him for his ingenuity. 
 
 What then ensued may be easily imagined ; the 
 solicitor heard from Troven the various facts of his 
 case known to himself, and which we have de- 
 scribed ; he, also, was very particular in his ques- 
 tioning respecting young Jasper Tomlins, but with 
 professional prudence, he offered no opinion, nor 
 did Troven ask him ; only he remarked that the 
 whole case was reduced into a narrow compass. 
 
 " The chance lies," said he, " between you and 
 young Jasper Tomlins cannot you discover any 
 person that knew which was Mrs. Tomlins' son, 
 prior to the day on which you were found on the 
 common by Dr. Wycombe ?" 
 
 " It will be," replied Troven, " hard to prove 
 x 2 
 
308 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 what you want at this distance of time. I have no 
 recollection that distinctly goes beyond that event. 
 I have, from the period of being taken under the 
 protection of Mr. Pearl, a very clear remembrance, 
 which reaches back to that point, but beyond it, 
 all with me is vague, and nothing so definite as to 
 be described." 
 
 " Has young Tomlins been questioned on this 
 point ?" replied Mr. Audley. and he subjoined, as 
 if actuated by a sudden impulse, " Do you not 
 recollect," said he, " any colouring or circum- 
 stance in that vague period, before your residence 
 with Mr. Pearl, which you describe ?" 
 
 " No," said Troven, " none : it was, however, 
 something more agreeable than the home I found 
 in his house. Gracious Heaven ! your question 
 has affected me ; and, in the midst of that 
 obscurity to which I have alluded ; I have sud- 
 denly a very clear recollection of standing on a 
 table in a fine room and several gentlemen around 
 me, talking much. I never thought of the circum- 
 stance before, though I have often endeavoured to 
 recall some anterior transaction." 
 
 He was not, however, allowed to pursue the 
 train of thought which had thus been abruptly 
 awakened, for at that moment Mr. Villiers came 
 into the room, followed by young Tomlins, and 
 Troven made Mr. Audley immediately known to 
 them, and the business on which he had come 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 309 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 EXPERIENCE in the sifting of evidence enabled Mr. 
 Audley to do what Villiers, with superior meta- 
 physical acumen had failed to effect. For, although 
 that gentleman possessed a random discernment of 
 what was wanted to elucidate the truth in Troven's 
 case, he had yet no accurate perception of the 
 course to be pursued in a case so obscure and per- 
 plexing. He saw that they stood on the edge of 
 a discovery ; but with all his knowledge of man- 
 kind he felt at fault. 
 
 Mr. Audley perceived at once, that unless some 
 way could be ascertained to connect transactions 
 subsequent to Troven having been found on the 
 common by Dr. Wycombe, with prior incidents, 
 the evidence would not be linked together; and, 
 accordingly, he discharged from his mind every 
 consideration but what bore upon previous circum- 
 stances. He assumed at once, it was indisputable 
 that Troven and Jasper Tomlins had, from the 
 date of the finding of Troven, an equal claim to be 
 considered as children of Mrs. Tomlins. But be- 
 fore that occurrence, it was as indisputable that 
 
310 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 she was only the mother of one son. The ques- 
 tion, then, to be determined, was, whether the 
 young delinquent, or our hero, was that son ; and 
 to this point he narrowed his enquiry. 
 
 The investigation of Villiers, though not so dis- 
 tinctly applied, was to ascertain the same point : 
 but he was less successful, inasmuch as he could 
 not elicit any such distinct reminiscence as Mr. 
 Audley had so ingeniously suggested by his ques- 
 tioning from Troven. Jasper could not recall to 
 mind any fact. It appeared, that as far back as 
 his recollection could extend, his condition had 
 undergone no change. Squalor and wretchedness 
 had been the unbroken tenor of his life : and the 
 object of Villiers* visit with him was to communi- 
 cate to Troven his conviction now, in consequence 
 of his examination, that the penitent was riot the 
 brother of Lord Buyborough. He scrupled not to 
 tell, before the young man himself, that such was 
 his persuasion. 
 
 " Truly," said Mr. Audley, " your research has 
 been very ingeniously conducted ; but you have 
 acquired no evidence that may substantiate the 
 fact. The strongest belief that you can possibly 
 entertain, proves nothing to others ; and this very 
 subtle case^ requires that others should be satisfied. 
 What was the complexion of those interrogatories 
 which you put to the young man to obtain from 
 him the recollection of any transaction anterior 
 to Mr. Troven having been found by Dr. Wy- 
 combe ?" 
 
 Mr. Villiers showed that he had conducted the 
 enquiry with great shrewdness, though he was de- 
 fective in the application. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 311 
 
 " Undoubtedly," said Mr. Audley, " you have 
 expended much ingenuity; but your questions took 
 a bias from the state of your own mind ; you ap- 
 prehended or expected to ascertain, that the young 
 man was Lord Buyborough's elder brother. 
 
 " Right/' said Mr. Villiers ; " I had upon me 
 something like a dread of discovering him to be 
 so." 
 
 " Ah," said Mr. Audley, " your investigation 
 could not then be disinterested ; your questions 
 would have a leaning to what you wished ; uncon- 
 scious to yourself, you would put to him questions 
 influenced by your wishes. 
 
 Villiers replied with characteristic quickness -- 
 " Then examine him yourself : I was not aware of 
 the constraint that was upon me ; but now that 
 you call my attention to it, I freely acknowledge 
 the bias/' 
 
 This conversation, short as it was, wakened the 
 demon of habitual deceit, that still lurked in the 
 bosom of young Jasper. Two or three times be- 
 fore it had occurred to him that his fortune would 
 be made, if he could establish himself as a lord : 
 and when he discovered that so much depended on 
 the recollection of a child, he grew bolder in his 
 fraud : for unquestionably his idea was founded in 
 that delinquent quality. 
 
 After speaking to Villiers, Mr. Audley turned 
 round and said to Jasper 
 
 " Well, my young man, this gentleman does not 
 think there is much chance of proving you Lord 
 Buyborough's elder brother." 
 
 To the astonishment of all present, Jasper, erect- 
 ing himself into consequence, said 
 
312 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 " I did not understand the drift of what he was 
 saying ; for if I had thought he was asking me 
 about any thing particular, that had occurred be- 
 fore my mother went to her father's, I could have 
 told him many things." 
 
 Mr. Audley treasured in his breast the inad- 
 vertent expression of Mrs. Tomlins' return to her 
 father's, and enquired what he could have told, as 
 if the question was of primary importance ; but it 
 was only said to mask the impression of the in- 
 advertency. 
 
 Both Troven and Villiers were too much fasci- 
 nated, as it were, by his declaration, to observe 
 what he had said, and the latter rejoined to Mr. 
 Audley's question 
 
 " I only wished you could recollect something 
 of an earlier date than your first visit with Mrs. 
 Tomlins to Mrs. Jenkins." 
 
 " Oh !" cried Jasper, " I did not know what 
 you were after, or I would have told you as a dream 
 that I recollect, being driven in a fine coach, and 
 having sweet things to my dinner." 
 
 Mr. Audley drew down his brows, bit his lip, 
 and looked grave at this, as he said 
 
 " Had you not, then, sweet things every day to 
 dinner, that you so recollect them ?" 
 
 The penitent looked for a moment audaciously 
 towards Mr. Audley ; but suddenly recollecting 
 the truth of his condition, his innate disposition to 
 counteract the evil of his nature suddenly return- 
 ed. The blood rose to his face ; his voice, in an 
 attempt to speak, faltered, and he burst into tears, 
 exclaiming 
 
 " Gentlemen, the devil has been with me : a big 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 313 
 
 lie was gathering at the root of my tongue. I 
 confess, that to play myself off as a gentleman's 
 son is not in my power." 
 
 In saying this, there was a degree of affecting 
 contrition which all present acknowledged ; and 
 Mr. Audley, yielding involuntarily to the feeling 
 of the moment, said compassionately 
 
 " Do not attempt, young man, to deceive us ; 
 but it would only be to afflict you to say more, 
 and, therefore, let what is passed be forgotten, and 
 answer truly What did you mean by saying that 
 your mother went back to her father's ?" 
 
 44 I do not know ; but it was a thing often 
 spoken of, and I remember she promised to bring 
 me a suit of new clothes to pacify me ; I re- 
 member this, because she kept her promise, and I 
 got the clothes when she returned." 
 
314 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WHEN Troven and Villiers were left alone, after 
 the others departed, the latter, seeing his compa- 
 nion disturbed, observed, he was glad to say that 
 his doubts were in a great measure dissipated. 
 
 " We have," said he, " by the late interview 
 made a little progress not much, I allow, but still 
 we have advanced. Mr. Audley is quite persuaded 
 that you have some recollection of being in a better 
 condition before, than after you were taken to Mr. 
 Pearl's house ; otherwise, he conceives, you would 
 not have remarked the difference, unless it had 
 been something much more squalid \ and he infers, 
 in the same manner, from Jasper Tomlins' account 
 of his dress, which his mother said was obtained 
 from her friends, that he was with her before you 
 were found." 
 
 " Ah !" said Troven, " my hopes are, I confess, 
 inclined to fly that way too ; but you forget in 
 what manner the ill-fated young man attempted to 
 deceive us, by the story of his previous state : we 
 cannot trust him." 
 
 " I did observe it," said Villiers, " and was 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 315 
 
 deeply distressed to see that his penitence was so 
 shallow, and I resolved not to give credence to 
 his words, unless backed with other testimony." 
 
 " I never before knew," said Troven, " the wis- 
 dom of that practice in a court of justice, which 
 discourages the attempt of those who would plead 
 their own cause. The least thing is so interesting 
 to me, that I cannot discriminate between what 
 may be important, and what is not. I fear, I fear, 
 the death of Mrs. Tomlins has caused the portals 
 of truth to be shut for ever." 
 
 " I fear so too," replied Villiers, " for all legal 
 purposes, and that you are doomed to suffer the 
 loss of the title and estates ; but still the evidence 
 thickens, and if you cannot convince Lord Buy- 
 borough of the legal validity of your claims, you 
 may, nevertheless, persuade him that they are at 
 least plausibly founded. But did not you say, that 
 the acquitted culprit, whom you brought to town 
 with you, recollected how Mrs. Tomlins' child was 
 dressed." 
 
 " Yes," said Troven, " it was in rags ; Mrs. 
 Servit has still preserved them." 
 
 " Ah !" interposed Villiers, hastily, " there has 
 been a change of dress, as well as of children. 
 Jasper may, perhaps, have some notion of the 
 dress his mother brought." 
 
 " I would not trust much to that lad ; but in 
 the affair of the dress, we have some corroboration 
 in the testimony of the old couple to whom we 
 were conducted by him, from Smithfield ; and per- 
 haps Mrs. Jenkins can recollect something of the 
 appearance of Jasper, when his mother took her 
 son to wait on her ; if we set rightly about it, we 
 
316 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 shall nearly have completed all the enquiry we can 
 make ; besides, the old woman who was allured by 
 the advertisement, recollects something of the dress 
 the elder brother of Lord Buyborough was in when 
 he disappeared. " 
 
 " It is now," said Troven, " near the hour when 
 she was appointed to call." 
 
 The words had scarcely escaped from him when 
 she knocked at the door, and the gentleman ascer- 
 tained from her that the child had, only a short 
 time before he was stolen, got the dress new, and 
 was placed on a table to shew himself to several 
 gentlemen, friends of his father. 
 
 Troven and Villiers looked at one another as she 
 mentioned this circumstance. It would, however, 
 be tantalizing our reader to continue the detail, by 
 which it was as well ascertained as the defective 
 evidence could admit, that Troven was the stolen 
 child, and that the clothes he wore were exchanged 
 by Mrs. Tomlins for the rags in which her son was 
 clad. 
 
 In the evening Villiers, undertook to wait upon 
 Lord Buyborough's solicitor, and to report to him 
 what they had discovered, taking with him the in- 
 dividuals who had given evidence on this point. 
 
 Mr. Audley patiently examined each separately, 
 and at the conclusion, said, " I am perfectly per- 
 suaded that Troven is no other than the elder bro- 
 ther ; but the death of Mrs. Tomlins has made a 
 break in the evidence, and much now depends on 
 his Lordship. All is ascertained that can be known, 
 and I frankly acknowledge that it would be su- 
 perfluous to pursue the subject further. Your 
 friend Troven has, in my opinion, morally esta- 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 317 
 
 blished his right; but he has not obtained such 
 evidence as would satisfy any tribunal." 
 
 " Do you think/' said Villiers, " that his Lord- 
 ship may be induced to acknowledge the relation- 
 ship ?" 
 
 " Of that," replied Mr. Audley, " I cannot say ; 
 his Lordship is a good man, and means well, but 
 the surrender of a title and a vast inheritance is a 
 serious thing. I will go at once to his Lordship, 
 this night, and inform him of all that has passed, 
 nor will I fail to state my decided opinion of the 
 case.' 7 
 
 Villiers was much pleased with the frankness of 
 this avowal, it was more than he expected, and in 
 consequence he gave Mr. Audley the greater cre- 
 dit. For with all his sinister opinion of mankind, the 
 native goodness of his heart had, in the discovery, 
 the ascendant ; in other circumstances he would 
 have ascribed the conduct of Mr. Audley, to the 
 influence of an expectation of acquiring another 
 client hereafter, in Troven. But he was too happy 
 at that moment, to entertain any doubt of his 
 singleness and integrity ; the only drawback on 
 his satisfaction was as to the manner in which 
 Lord Buyborough would receive the tidings ; but 
 he gave no expression to that opinion. When, 
 however, Mr. Audley went to his Lordship's resi- 
 dence, he returned to the Temple, requesting the 
 witnesses to be with him in the morning. 
 
 Troven, as we have mentioned, was not at this 
 final interview ; he was too much agitated, and had 
 requested Villiers to take the task upon himself, 
 but he remained in his own chambers to hide his 
 trouble. How to act he could not determine, and 
 
318 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 he was vexed with himself for thinking that Lord 
 Buyborough might not behave towards him as he 
 felt he would have done had circumstances been 
 reversed. In the midst of these " wild, weltering" 
 thoughts, he was cheered by the image of Miss 
 Althea, like a star between the flying clouds of a 
 storm. 
 
 " If his Lordship," said he, " does as a man 
 and a Lord should do in such a situation, I will in- 
 stantly propose for the lady, and if she consent to 
 accept my hand, it will afford him an opportunity 
 to give her, in the shape of a fortune, what justice 
 and generosity should prompt him to assign to me. 
 Thus we shall prevent our domestic story from 
 getting into the mouths of the vulgar, while his 
 new title secures him against all prying curiosity." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 319 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHEN Mr. Audley arrived at Buyborough House, 
 he was shown at once to his lordship, who was 
 sitting alone in the library, and who, from the 
 time Mr. Piecroft had told him the story he had 
 learnt from Mr. Mordant, became, to all appear- 
 ance, changed. The latent infirmity of his na- 
 ture, indolence, broke out, and, without thinking 
 on any purpose, he was continually immersed in 
 thought. The more he sifted the business, he only 
 received confirmation of the truth, and something; 
 
 7 O 
 
 like a dread of being stript of all he possessed by 
 a stranger, hung upon his spirits, and depressed 
 him in such a manner as to weaken his powers of 
 action. Many, in his predicament, would have 
 summoned the energies of their character, and re- 
 solved on what course they would take, when the 
 fact he feared should be determined. But it was 
 not so with Lord Buyborough ; he was over- 
 whelmed by what he heard, and he often sat for 
 hours together ruminating on his situation. 
 
 Mr. Audley stated to him all that had passed ; 
 and concluded by saying, that there could be no 
 
320 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 doubt of Mr. Troven being his brother ; but it be- 
 came him to say professionally, that sufficient evi- 
 dence could not be produced to render it probable 
 he would establish his claim. " A jury/' said he, 
 " might decide in your lordship's favour ; but the 
 state of circumstances renders it probable that their 
 verdict would be adverse." 
 
 Lord Buyborough listened to the recital and to 
 the opinion unmoved. The crisis had arrived that 
 required action ; but the hereditary error in his 
 blood was only increased by what Mr. Audley 
 said. Something like a stupor fell upon him ; and 
 one, not accustomed to the occasional inaction 
 of his conduct, would have thought him over- 
 whelmed. 
 
 When Mr. Audley paused, his lordship remained 
 for some time silent, pale and absent, looking from 
 side to side as if in search of something : at last 
 he spoke. 
 
 " What do you advise ?" said he, scarcely aware 
 of what he said. 
 
 " It is not for me," said Mr. Audley, to offer 
 advice ; your lordship must judge for yourself 
 I can only repeat what I have already stated. 
 There is sufficient ground to contest the right, for 
 I think it no less, of Mr. Troven ; and there is also 
 enough to render it probable that he would not 
 obtain his birthright.* 
 
 " Then you do think," replied his lordship, 
 " that I should at once acknowledge him as my 
 brother ?" 
 
 " He is possessed of many qualities," replied 
 Mr. Audley, " to bespeak favour and esteem ; but 
 I cannot venture to give advice on that head." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 321 
 
 " I am perplexed," replied his lordship ; " I 
 should have no objection to acknowledge him as 
 my brother but it is a pity that he has such low 
 connections." 
 
 Mr. Audley turned half-way round at this ex- 
 pression, and then said, " Your lordship hesi- 
 tates I shall, therefore, leave you to-night, and 
 call in the morning. In the interval your lord- 
 ship will have time to determine on what should 
 be done." 
 
 " The suggestion," said his lordship, " is very 
 prudent. Have you any idea of what Mr. Troven 
 would take to let me clear off ? for unless one knows 
 what sum would satisfy him, there is no coming to 
 any conclusion." 
 
 To this speech Mr. Audley somewhat drily ans- 
 wered, that it did not altogether depend on his 
 lordship's discretion. " Mr. Troven," said he, " is 
 now the claimant. Your lordship has no choice 
 but either to make with him a friendly arrange- 
 ment, or to resolve to contest his pretension." 
 
 " How is that ?" said Lord Buyborough with 
 a vacant look, as if he did not understand what he 
 was saying. 
 
 Mr. Audley looked at him with severity for a 
 moment, and then again repeated he would call 
 in the morning and receive further instructions, 
 and immediately withdrew. 
 
 This interview was not calculated to inspire 
 much esteem for his lordship's disposition ; it was 
 such that the impression became disagreeable, 
 with all his worldly-mindedness, to Mr. Audley ; 
 and it was such that, in spite of the amiable rec- 
 titude of his lordship's character, would have ex- 
 
 VOL. IV. Y 
 
322 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 coriated the feeling's of every one and yet it was 
 but an effect of consternation : his lordship, at the 
 moment, had no distinct conception of his own case. 
 
 However, when Mr. Audley withdrew, he joined 
 the ladies, and told them what had passed. Miss 
 Mordant remained silent, but it was evident that 
 she was greatly interested ; and when she had 
 heard the story she retired to her own room. 
 Lady Buyborough was differently affected ; she 
 was angry, she knew not wherefore, at Mr. Audley 
 for bringing such a story, as if he had any thing to 
 do with its incidents ; and she expressed herself 
 as if offended that Mr. Troven should presume to 
 have any right to what her lord enjoyed, and 
 strenuously advised his claim to be resisted by 
 every rigour and artifice of law. 
 
 Her warmth awakened Lord Buyborough to the 
 knowledge of his case ; and to her he appeared in 
 a much more respectable light than he had done 
 to Mr. Audley. 
 
 " If we had a choice," said his lordship, " I 
 should, perhaps, think like you ; but we have none. 
 Mr. Audley told me, in substance, that we are at 
 the mercy of Mr. Troven ; and though I had some 
 fear, it did not appear to myself at first so obvious ; 
 and now, that I have thought better of it, it will be 
 more prudent to make a compromise with Mr. 
 Troven than to go to law." 
 
 " Do you," exclaimed her ladyship, " believe 
 he is your brother ?" 
 
 " Mr. Audley believes he is," was the reply. 
 
 " But do you?" 
 
 " I cannot answer that question, because I have 
 not yet had time to reflect on what I have heard." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 323 
 
 " Then," said her ladyship, " till you have re- 
 flected, do nothing ; but unless I was convinced 
 he was our brother, I would treat him as an im- 
 postor, notwithstanding there is so much to like 
 about the man." 
 
 Without observing particularly what she said, 
 Lord Buyborough exclaimed, as it were, to him- 
 self, " He is my brother all I have is his in- 
 heritance !" 
 
 " Did you not," interrupted her ladyship, " say, 
 in repeating what Mr. Audley had told you, that 
 it was by no means clear ?" 
 
 " Ah, Gertrude, you give a version of what he 
 said according to your wishes. He did not say 
 there was any doubt of Mr. Troven being my bro- 
 ther : he only mentioned that, by the death of 
 Mrs. Tomlins, the chain of evidence to prove him 
 so was broken." 
 
 Her ladyship had no answer ready, and, for lack 
 of words, made use of tears. 
 
 Y2 
 
324 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WE never have the same open-hearted confidence 
 with the friends of our riper years that we have 
 with the early companions of our youth. Whether 
 a constitutional feeling prompted Troven to obey 
 this custom of our nature in any inordinate degree, 
 or that his foundling condition made him more 
 cautious as he grew older, cannot be ascertained ; 
 but he was in the practice of communicating to 
 Mrs. Servit every incident by which he was af- 
 fected. While he often laughed at her garrulity, 
 he entirely trusted to her affection : towards Vil- 
 liers, with all his veneration for his virtues and 
 discernment, he could never venture to be so ex- 
 plicit. 
 
 He had gone to her lodgings while Mr. Audley 
 was with Lord Buyborough, to inform her of what 
 had taken place ; for of all the world he correctly 
 deemed that no other felt so much interest as she 
 did in his fortunes. 
 
 He repeated the various incidents which had 
 been added by the events of the day to his story, 
 and concluded by saying, with an exultation that 
 to her was natural 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 325 
 
 " I have no doubt, now, that I am the brother of 
 Lord Buyborough, and entitled to the family peer- 
 age." 
 
 " There can be no doubt of that," said she ; 
 " did not I tell you all along that you were come 
 of something, as would in the end be seen ? and 
 now it's proven that you're a lord, which should 
 make us very thankful to Providence that, sooner 
 or later, makes its justice manifest." 
 
 " I should have said," replied he, " it is all but 
 proven that I am Lord Buyborough's brother." 
 
 " Well, well," said she ; " what's in your buts? 
 is not the thing clear ? For my part, I never had 
 a doubt on the subject; but what does my lord 
 say ?" 
 
 " Oh, I have not seen him ; Mr. Audley, his 
 solicitor, is to make the communication." 
 
 " His solicitor !" said she; " I don't like that 
 lawyers are fond of fishing in troubled waters." 
 
 " But," said Troven, " Mr. Audley appears to 
 be a very honourable man, and frankly acknow- 
 ledges the truth." 
 
 " Oh," said Mrs. Servit, " if it's true, how can 
 he make it false ? No, no, Mr. Edward ; if he 
 thinks that you are my lord, he may have been 
 wheedling with your credulity, in the hope of get- 
 ting your business when the king himself cannot 
 hinder you from your rights. So say nothing to 
 me, for, as you know of the old, I have an eye in 
 my neck, and can see as far through a mill-stone 
 as Mr. Audley, honourable man as he is. But if 
 I had been you, I would have had no black foot 
 between me and my lord after being sure I was his 
 brother. I would have gone to him myself, arid 
 
326 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 discoursed with him in cordiality and brotherly 
 love concerning what has ccme to pass ; and you 
 know, as he was none to blame, I would not have 
 been overly strict in calling on him for count and 
 reckoning of the rents ; but if I found him a con- 
 tumacious man, I would not have faiked the tenth 
 part of half a farthing of my dues. No, no, Mr. 
 Edward ; you must see him yourself, and make, as 
 you will do, a liberal bargain with him." 
 
 At these words, the two Tomlins were an- 
 nounced as being solicitous of an interview with 
 Mrs. Servit. 
 
 " Oh, by all means," said she ; " I want to see 
 them ; for I have never set eyes on the get, and I 
 would like to satisfy my curiosity by a comparison/' 
 The servant girl accordingly showed up the fa- 
 ther and son ; and the moment they entered, Mrs. 
 Servit clapped her hands, and shouted 
 
 " Oh, he's as like the old one as a kitling's 
 like a cat I would have known him all the world 
 over !" 
 
 And, turning round to Troven, she added, 
 " The young one has just the 'denticle cow's 
 lick of the hair on his brow that the old one had 
 when I knew him." 
 
 It was true what she said ; for young Jasper had 
 the same swirl of the hair on his forehead which 
 in his younger years had been remarkable on his 
 father. She then added, 
 
 " Look at them both ; can ye have any doubt 
 that they're father and son, only the son is the 
 decentest of the two, even though he has been 
 but now he has turned over a new leaf, and I must 
 keep my thumb on the days when he was no better 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 327 
 
 than he should be. Old Jasper, what do you want 
 with me ?" 
 
 " Why," said he, " I think it is of no use to 
 seek for another son: I am content with this one." 
 
 " I never heard you utter before such a mouth- 
 ful of common sense: 'deed, you may look far, 
 with bent brows, before you meet with one so like 
 you. Don't you see, Mr. Edward, the likeness ? 
 the sun and the moon are not more like one ano- 
 ther than them." 
 
 " I own," said Troven, " that the resemblance 
 struck me before, though I could not then point 
 out any particular mark." 
 
 " Well, that is most odd," said she ; " for the 
 old one has a black front tooth there it is ; and 
 the young one has the very self-same tooth broken. 
 Can anything be clearer than a mark of mouth ? 
 And so, Jasper, you have resolved to take the 
 young man for your son ?" 
 
 " I might do worse, mem ; he is a very well- 
 doing lad." 
 
 " Whist, whist," said she ; " let byganes be by- 
 ganes ; he may be a weel-doing lad say that, 
 and there's time enough before him, at his age. 
 You were yourself no babe of grace, but now 
 ye 're a penitent sinner, and no doubt he may be 
 so too." 
 
 " I hope he will," said Jasper ; " and he is very 
 sorrowful for what he has been." 
 
 " I am blithe to hear you say that ; but take 
 him out of London as soon as ye can otherwise, 
 depend upon 't his old confederates will make up 
 to him, as a deserter from their corps. It's a 
 grudging thing, you know, Jasper, to see a man 
 
328 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 that we knew a ne'er-do-well, grow better than 
 ourselves." 
 
 " That/' said the father, " is just what I have 
 been thinking, and we intend therefore to go into 
 the country to-morrow morning, for which cause 
 we have come to thank you, mem, for being so 
 befriending." 
 
 At this speech, Troven, with as much of an air 
 of indifference as he could assume, recollecting the 
 probabilities in which he himself stood, requested 
 them to delay their journey for another day, and, 
 perhaps, something might turn up for him ; but 
 Mrs. Servit interposed. 
 
 " No, no ; do not wile the poor lad to put his 
 neck in jeopardy. I see what ye mean by the e'e 
 in my neck ; and it's like yourself to be so patro- 
 nizing ; but let him go with his father, and there 
 will be time enough to do to him an awmous deed, 
 when all's settled." 
 
 " Well," said Troven, " since the sight of the 
 eye in your neck is so sharp, I will leave the whole 
 matter to you." 
 
 Upon which Mrs. Servit, winking significantly to 
 the elder Jasper, said, with a cunning look, which 
 might be easily interpreted, 
 
 " Dear me ! and are you going so soon, Jasper ? 
 You had better not be in such a hurry. Call to- 
 morrow with your son, and we'll confabulate anent 
 him by ourselves, for I have this night some instant 
 business with Mr. Troven, and I'll not detain you 
 at present. Well ! I never saw such a likeness 
 between a father and a son before really, it's a 
 wonder. However, Jasper, come the morn's morn- 
 ing, and Til be at leisure to hear all about it." 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 329 
 
 Upon which the father and son withdrew, pro- 
 mising to come in the morning ; and the moment 
 they had retired, Mrs. Servit cried, in an audible 
 whisper, 
 
 " Well ! the crow thinks its own bird the whitest: 
 " but, except the cow's lick on the brow gude 
 preserve me for leeing! I could see no more like- 
 ness between them than a hen to a coalie dog ; 
 only as Jasper has taken up with him, it would not 
 have done, you know, to put him out of conceit 
 with the poor lad ; and so, as I knew very well, 
 that with all his faults Jasper was but soft-headed, 
 I thought it my duty to do what I could to make 
 him believe that the young man was his son ; and 
 really, though I could not discern any whether or 
 no about him, to prove that it was his son, the 
 truth is, you know, not always to be told/' 
 
330 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 NEXT morning Troven rose earlier than usual, 
 and, to save time, went to Villiers' chambers to 
 breakfast with him, intending, at a becoming hour, 
 to visit Lord Buyborough, as Mrs. Servit had sug- 
 gested ; for, with all her peculiarities, he paid a 
 proper respect to her sallies, as they may be called, 
 of shrewdness and experience. 
 
 To Villiers he related what she said, and what 
 had been his own conclusion, and he was con- 
 firmed in his resolution to wait on his Lordship, by 
 that gentleman. 
 
 " Sometime soon," said he ; " it will be neces- 
 sary to wait upon him, for I greatly doubt if it 
 will be possible to establish your right if he resist ; 
 but from what I have understood of his character, 
 and the way in which he has always acted towards 
 you, except in the single instance of not otherwise 
 noticing your letter, than by sending Mr. Audley 
 here, he has been in all the vocations of his condi- 
 tion, an amiable and irreproachable man ; no doubt 
 difficulties change characters, and the dread of 
 coercive measures may have a baneful influence 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 331 
 
 on his conduct, but when I think of it, why should 
 you regard him less than your brother ?" 
 
 "I," replied Troven, " do not regard him as 
 less ; but he may prove so, and it is that ' may/ 
 which makes me hesitate. I have no doubt now 
 that he is my brother ?" 
 
 " Nor have I," replied Villiers ; " but I think it 
 was his duty, if he felt as he ought to do, to have 
 waited upon you ; you are the sufferer by what 
 has happened, and should be conciliated, if any 
 thing like conciliation be required." 
 
 "True, but you should recollect that he has 
 been brought up as a Lord, and some allowance 
 must be made to the best hearts for insisting on 
 etiquettes. I have made up my mind to wave ce- 
 remony ; indeed, there should be none in our re- 
 spective situations." 
 
 " I will say no more," replied Villiers; " I think 
 you do right in going. All that I intended to say 
 was, that he might have come." 
 
 Villiers then related in what manner he had 
 managed with the Tomlins ; for it was by his in- 
 terference that the elder received the younger for 
 his son. 
 
 " Indeed," said he, " there could be no doubt 
 on the subject morally, and in a case where the 
 heart beats strongly, legalities are not worth much. 
 I am as convinced that the young man was right- 
 fully fathered, as that you are the elder brother of 
 Lord Buyborough, and yet the evidence is not com- 
 plete." 
 
 Immediately after breakfast, Troven proceeded 
 to Buyborough House. He was resolved, but he 
 was not comfortable : as he went along the streets, 
 
332 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 there was a flickering in his mind, and he could 
 pursue no steady train of thought. Every thing 
 depended on his brother, and the omens were not 
 favourable ; but still he considered that their rela- 
 tionship was not so equivocal as that there should 
 not be every reliance on the reputation of his 
 Lordship. With reflections of this kind, hope, like 
 a halo, surrounded the image of Althea in his bo- 
 som ; but there was such a transition of fancies, 
 that by the time he reached the door, he felt him- 
 self greatly disturbed. 
 
 The porter who admitted him, though totally un- 
 acquainted with his business, he imagined, looked 
 at him scrupulously, and was more civil than usual. 
 The servant who conducted him into the breakfast- 
 room where his Lordship was sitting with the 
 ladies, though he acted precisely in his accus- 
 tomed manner, he also thought marked his de- 
 meanour ; and he entered the apartment in consi- 
 derable trepidation. 
 
 Lord Buyborough himself, from his situation at 
 the table, saw him first ; and, without speaking, 
 rose as he came in, and hastily met him. The bet- 
 ter genius of his Lordship had regained the ascen- 
 dancy, and he took him by both hands kindly, and 
 exclaimed 
 
 " My brother !" 
 
 The ladies looked round, and both rose from 
 their seats; while Troven, unable to resist the 
 flood of feeling which so unexpectedly rushed upon 
 his heart, bent his head upon Lord Buyborough's 
 shoulder, and actually sobbed aloud with emotion. 
 
 Without making any endeavour to calm this 
 sudden expression of sensibility, his Lordship led 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 333 
 
 him to a seat, and waved at the same time for the 
 servant to hastily withdraw, who seemed to linger 
 in witnessing so extraordinary a scene. 
 
 He then said, affectionately, 
 
 "You have but anticipated me; a night's re- 
 flection has enabled me to get the better of un- 
 brotherly thoughts ; and I had resolved to see you 
 soon, and to assure you, that although you may 
 not be able to prove the right, every thing that I 
 am possessed of, and that I can give, is yours ; 
 over the title you are yourself aware I have no 
 power ; but that you are my lost brother I no 
 longer doubt, and I trust to yourself entirely." 
 
 " During this speech, the ladies were melted 
 with tears; for some how it happens, that when 
 women know not what to say, they make up for 
 speaking, by weeping. 
 
 Troven had, in the meantime, so far recovered 
 his self-possession that he could reply to his Lord- 
 ship with a steady voice 
 
 " My reception, and the kindness of your Lord- 
 ship, were more than I expected. Since I have 
 been so frankly acknowledged, I have but grati- 
 tude to return. Be master of all you have, my 
 Lord ; you have been accustomed to consider it as 
 yours, and I have never known it as mine. To 
 take it from you, would be a great privation, and I 
 am not sure it would do me an equivalent good." 
 
 " Lady Buyborough dried her eyes at this, and 
 was loud in her laud of his generosity ; but the 
 leaven of her natural feeling shewed itself in her 
 remarking, that as she was the daughter of their 
 father's elder brother, had she been a son, the 
 estate would have been her's. 
 
334 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 " Yes," said Troven, " your ladyship is quite 
 right, and had Miss Althea been a son, and no 
 such person as your Ladyship in existence, the in- 
 heritance would have been her's ; and therefore I 
 have a proposal to make, that will place us all on 
 a proper footing. " 
 
 " Let us hear it," said Miss Althea, with a 
 degree of impatience, which she could ill conceal. 
 
 " Are you so anxious?" said Troven. " Then I 
 am sure there can be no reason why I should not 
 speak out" and he said this in a tone of earnest- 
 ness that caused her to blush ; and then he dis- 
 closed his project; namely, that if Miss Althea 
 would consent to accept him as a wooer, he would 
 take for her fortune the half of the inheritance. 
 
 " Why !" said Lord Buyborough, abruptly, " you 
 have spoken my very thoughts ; I was diffident of 
 making the proposal, lest your affections might be 
 otherwise engaged." 
 
 " Say as little, my Lord, on the subject as you 
 can ; I have an abhorrence to be the talk of the 
 vulgar : if this young lady if Miss Mordant has 
 no objection, let the arrangement take place as 
 soon as she thinks fit." 
 
 And accordingly, in the course of a few minutes, 
 every thing was settled ; so that when Mr. Auclley 
 called, agreeable news awaited him. He was in- 
 formed of what was intended, and received his 
 instructions to prepare the marriage settlements 
 before the gossips of the town were aware how 
 much they had been mulcted of a charming feast. 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 335 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 THE virtual restoration of Troven to his birthright, 
 necessarily brings our romance to an end. He 
 was in due time married to Miss Althea Mordant ; 
 and Lord Buyborough not only divided with them 
 his inheritance, but presented the bride, on the 
 morning of her wedding day, with a rich casket of 
 jewels. Every thing was done on his part that 
 could be expected from him ; for he allowed Tro- 
 ven to take his own way as with his own, in the 
 division of the property, and to indemnify him- 
 self for not attempting to claim his peerage by a 
 seat in one of the boroughs over which the family 
 exercised the jurisdiction, as things were in those 
 days, of patronage. 
 
 Villiers continued a much esteemed friend with 
 our hero ; but he was so enamoured of the life of 
 retirement to which he had consigned himself, that 
 he refused on all occasions to be indebted for any 
 favour. It was among the characteristics of this 
 singular man to be of opinion, that the acceptance 
 of favours destroyed the equality of friendship, and 
 he acted on this principle : but it was observed, 
 
336 THE STOLEN CHILD. 
 
 that as he grew older, his humours mellowed, and 
 to the children of his friend he was as indulgent 
 as a grandfather. 
 
 Mrs. Servit lived to a very old age, without un- 
 dergoing much change of character ; and our 
 hero's wife was delighted at her consent to take up 
 her abode with them. She would not, however, 
 agree without also insisting on having a charge ; 
 for it was one of the whims of this notable matron 
 to think that, some time or another, neglect would 
 appear, where there was not hire or honour to be 
 earned by preventing it. Hire could not be spoken 
 of; but she had, in consequence, every investiture 
 of power that could entitle her to the latter ; and 
 to humour her fancy in this respect, the day after 
 her appearance in his house, Troven himself, in her 
 presence, called his domestics together, and in- 
 formed them of the trusts and superintendence to 
 which she was called ; a proceeding so prodigi- 
 ously agreeable to the old methodical lady, that 
 before the assembled servants were dismissed, and 
 immediately at the conclusion of their master's 
 speech, she felt herself inspired to address them on 
 her inauguration. 
 
 " My friends," said she, " you have heard what 
 Mr. Troven that should be my lord, though he is 
 only a master how he has been telling you to 
 render me all dutiful obedience, which you ought 
 to be very thankful for, as it is well known that 
 servants, unless they are well looked after, are apt 
 to go a gray gate ; and it 's more for your good 
 than your master's that I am to be set above you ; 
 therefore, I expect that every one of you will do 
 your endeavours to give satisfaction, for I can 
 
THE STOLEN CHILD. 337 
 
 assure you, if I catch any of you remiss in your 
 duty, I'll make the bravest repent with a pin in the 
 nose." 
 
 The other dramatis personce spent the remainder 
 of their days without any thing very remarkable 
 in their lives ; it is reserved for the few and the 
 far between, to be famous for adventures ; the in- 
 habitants of the world in general end as they 
 began. The only one, of all that we have intro- 
 duced, that deserves to be recalled to remembrance, 
 is young Tomlins. Troven would have taken him 
 into his service, and had a pleasure in promoting 
 him for Villiers' sake ; but the young man stood in 
 such awe of his past conduct, that he declined the 
 offer, and went with his father into the country, 
 where he became in time a sober, sedate, and well- 
 behaved schoolmaster, who occasionally scattered 
 the manna among the congregation which his 
 father had joined, and where he shone a great and 
 shining light, as his brethren were pleased to call 
 him, when he vouchsafed to edify them with an 
 exhortation. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 VOL. iv. 
 
LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY STEWART AND CO. 
 OLD BAILEY. 
 

wuu. . 
 
 14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 RENEWALS ONLY TEL NO. 642-3405 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 10'69-llAM 
 
 JAN 06199ft 
 
 General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
 Berkeley 
 
 LD21A-60m-6/69 
 
 (J9096slO)476-A-32 
 
YA 08849 
 
 N ' L " 
 
 U. C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES