■iK 
 
 
 /»' 
 
 *!k 
 
 ^i f 
 
 #<"^ 
 
 M:;iiilJf^DAfION- 
 
 iiiiiiilS'"" 

 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 /Vv/ 


 
 THE 
 
 INUNDATION; 
 
 OR, 
 
 PAEDON AND PEACE. 
 
 By MRS. GORE. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTEATIONS BY GEO. CKUIXSHAXK. 
 
 - ..' - f .. . ? 
 
 LONDON: 
 WILLOIJGHBT & CO, 26, S:\IITHF1ELD.
 
 • • 
 
 • • • • 
 
 * •.'••••♦*•• 

 
 
 V: 
 
 J 
 
 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 <5 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 On a gorgeous July evening, a few summers ago, 
 the setting sun was insinuating, here and there, a 
 ^ slanting beam into the recesses of a rocky gorge 
 ^ on the coast of Cumberland. — Sheltered against the 
 stirring breezes of the Irish Sea by a sudden incli- 
 nation towards the north, a few liundred yards above 
 the spot where a brook, called the Dudbourne, oozed 
 into the sands on issuing from the jaws of the defile, 
 the sequestered security of the spot created in its 
 favour the charm usually attached to jirohibition.— 
 
 B 
 
 157247
 
 O THE INUNDATION. 
 
 Dml„" .be arougM prevailing at tl.at fevvld season 
 „r,„ey»-, it seemed Impossible that nature shoul.! 
 Uavecroa,calntl.evasttable-W skirted by that 
 
 „oUanddangero«scoas,,sodeep ael.f. asDudbourne 
 Dale, soldyto afford a.-aterconrse to a stream so 
 
 ,„allowt,,at the stones forming Its cbannel lay upon 
 
 the surface, Instead of indenting the smooth green 
 tuvf; in many places so little moistened by the 
 waters of the brook, that they might have passed 
 
 f„. the causeway of a giant abiding in the wilder- 
 ness, of .vhich the cliffs rising perpendicularly on 
 elth« side, represented the ramparts.- 
 
 Other road, at all events, there was none through 
 ,„c valley. Throughout the greater portion of ..s 
 le„.th, which, between the estuary of the Du,l- 
 ta^^ne and the fall called Dodbourne Force, by 
 which it issued from the mountain-tarn of Duddon- 
 
 water, was nearly two miles in extent, a broad 
 „,een margin afforded summer-pasturage for a 
 ,,erd of the small cattle of the country, and a sea- 
 ward path for occasional stragglers from the adjon- 
 i„„ town of Duddonstone. And though, in one
 
 THE INUNDATION. O 
 
 or two of the almost angular turns of the valley, 
 the gangway became so narrow that, after the 
 setting-in of the autumnal rains, it was diflicult to 
 pass dryshod, — during the greater part of the 
 year, Dudbourne Dale constituted a channel '"a 
 world too wide for the shrunk " stream from which 
 its name was derived. — 
 
 Such naturalists, however, as, in the course of 
 their wandering's in Lakeland, found their way into 
 that remote pass, were apt to notice that, among 
 the fragments of rock embedded at various distances 
 in the turf, were specimens of quartz and schist, 
 a.id other formations foreign to those of the sur- 
 rouriing cliffs : as though the mountain -brook 
 which sometimes hissed and foamed over the stones, 
 and sometimes stole timidly between their fissures, 
 had been, at some remote period, a poAverfal torrent, 
 whose impetuous waters brought with them the pro- 
 ducts of a remote district ; which they bequeathed 
 as signs and landmarks of a dominion they were too 
 feeble to maintain. — Like the Lissa, in short, and 
 other rivulets of the Cumbrian dales, the Dudbourne 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE INUNDATION'. 
 
 exhibited the equivocal tokens of departed grandeur 
 which chai'acterize a mediatized German prince. — 
 
 But what it had lost in consequence, the dale it 
 traversed gained annually in beauty. — Every year, 
 drifts of earth brought down from tlic table-land 
 above by the driving of the winter storms, by filhng 
 the nooks and crevices of the cliffs, afforded ground 
 for richer vegetation than the mosses and lichens 
 clothin<^ the ruder crafts. — Patches of broom and 
 heath had long redeemed the dreary barrenness 
 of the spot. The bright bells of the foxglove 
 opposed their imperial hues to the dun surface of 
 the rocks from which projected the silvery stems 
 and quivering foliage of the birch and aspen ; while 
 the flexile streamers of intermatted briar-rose and 
 bramble overhung the perpendicular wall of sand- 
 stone that afforded no fissure for tlie insinuation of 
 their fibres. 
 
 In the height of summei-, when all this vegetation 
 was at its fullest, and tlie water - flowers, whose 
 searching roots were not to be cheated by the pre- 
 tended disappearance of the brook, sent up their
 
 THE INUNDATION. 5 
 
 spreading blossoms under which the pale blue 
 forget-me-not clustered in richest exuberance, 
 Dudbourne Dale was just such a spot as fairies 
 might have delighted in, when fairies dwelt upon 
 the earth ; — lonelj, — lovelj, — tranquil; — with no- 
 thing to be seen but tlie richly-embroidered brocade 
 of nature's robes, and nothing to be heard but tlieir 
 rustling. — 
 
 " Provoking enough, if, after all, I should have 
 mistaken mj road !" exclaimed a young traveller, 
 who, on the evening in question, had traversed the 
 whole length of the dale, till he came witliin view 
 of the ocean, whose advancing tides glowed under 
 the reflection of the setting sun : after gazing for 
 many minutes on which, in silent admiration, he 
 was glad to retreat from the glare into the recesses 
 of the dale from which he had just emerged, 
 
 " It is just six hours," he resumed, "since I left 
 Diiddon Bridge; and if I have been blockhead 
 enough to mistake the directions given me by tlic 
 good woman at the Nag's Head, it Avill be dark 
 before I can find my v/ay back, even so far as
 
 D THE INUNDATION. 
 
 Duddonstone, wliere I have no mind to sleep.-— 
 I had reckoned so surely on putting up for the night 
 at old Atfield's ! — Better be jogging, however, upon 
 my Avay, unless I wish to be benighted in the con- 
 founded desert -which I have been ass enough to 
 mistake for Dadbourne Dale !" — 
 
 But it was clear, from the peevishness with 
 which he struck his ashen walking-stick into the 
 turf, as he retraced his plodding steps, that he was 
 grievously out of sorts, both with himself and the 
 scenery, which, only half- an -hour before, while 
 still believing himself on the threshold of old 
 Atfield's abode, had moved his enthusiasm. — For 
 the picturesque is a sorry substitute for a supper 
 and a bed ; and at the age of the traveller, (a year 
 or two on the beardy side of twenty,) solitude, 
 though a pleasant interlude, becomes tedious on 
 compulsion. — He was sadly in want of a companion, 
 to whom to expand into ecstasies on the beauties 
 (and intricacies) of Lakeland ! — 
 
 " An eagle, by Jupiter ! — I did not know they 
 were ever seen soutlxward of Skiddaw," cried he,
 
 THE INUNDATION. 7 
 
 when two or three ansfuhir turns havin^j brought 
 
 o OS 
 
 him nearly a mile inland, only an occasional pinnacle 
 of tlie cliffs continued to he gilded by the setting 
 sun. — But a second glance at the object thus apos- 
 trophized, convinced him that his first view had 
 been too ambitious ; and that the bird, cii'cling in one 
 of the windings of the valley, was only a large kite. 
 
 "I wonder what sort of prey it is after?" mused 
 tlie traveller. — " The small birds are at roost. — But 
 a kite, of that size, could carry off a stoat or weasel." 
 Then uttering a shrill cry, less for the purpose of 
 scaring the marauder from his prey than for the 
 l)le:\sure of watching its precipitate ascent, he saw 
 with surprise that the spot over Avhicli the kite was 
 hovering, was a considerable ledge of land, formed, 
 in some earlier age, by an extensive landslip; and 
 so tliickly edged round with alder and maple, Vv'here 
 the abutments rose some six or eight feet above the 
 v;i!ley, as to mask the spot from casual observation. 
 
 Even after ascertaining the existence of the 
 onclusure, whicli he had overlooked at his first 
 transit, he was as much puzzled to know how to
 
 8 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 reach tlic dwelling he trusted it might contain, as 
 the assailants of Robinson Crusoe's fort to escalade 
 the walls, when once his ladders were drawn in. — 
 Fifty yards further, however, a few rough steps cut 
 in the sand-stone, indicated a path which, turning 
 behind the alder bushes, was little calculated to at- 
 tract the observation of strangers. 
 
 The kite-scai'er hurried joyfully up the rude 
 pathway; till stopped by the wicket of a small close, 
 planted with lucerne, and dotted with fruit-trees: — 
 the upper portion of which consisted of a neat gar- 
 den, Availed in on two sides of the triangular area 
 by the perpendicular clifis of Dudbourne Dale. 
 
 " No Avonder I Avas ready to make affidavit that 
 neither house nor home stood Avitliin the limits of 
 the valley!" cried the young man, as he surveyed 
 the well -planted garden and bright floAvcr-bcds. 
 "Who could have expected to find such a spot as 
 this, out of the fastnesses of the Rocky Mountains, 
 or the wilds of New Zealand ! — John Atfield ought 
 to have apprized me that his family lived in a 
 cavern."
 
 THE INUNDATION. 9 
 
 And liis fastidious eye glanced disparagingly over 
 the facade of a small two-storied house, that appeared 
 to peep out of the rocks on which it ahutted. Fur- 
 ther on, an irregular but considerable range of out- 
 buildings was niched into the sand-stone ; with the 
 same rash trust that creates so many strange-looking 
 dwellings in the neighbourhood of our sea -port 
 towns, or on the banks of the Wye or Avon. 
 
 He was not long left to his conjectures concerning 
 the " cavern " of the Atfields. — His interference 
 with the evening meal of the kite (some young 
 Guinea-chicks exercising their poAvers of mischief in 
 the garden) had roused the attention of the inmates. 
 — A shaggy, crook -legged lad, wliose deformity 
 announced him to be a cow-boy, was scratching his 
 ear with an inquiring air in front of the cattle- 
 sheds ; while on a jutting ledge of rock at tlie 
 extremity of the garden, commanding a view of the 
 dale, stood a young girl, whose good-liumoured face 
 and well-turned figure elicited an exclamation of 
 "Prissy At field!"— 
 
 Beckoning the hid towards him, the traveller
 
 10 THE IXUXDATION. 
 
 hastened to inquire whether his master were within ; 
 and, on being answered in the negative, was about 
 to express a desire to enter tlie house, and await 
 Mr. AtGeld's return, wlien, lo I the damsel who, in 
 the interim, had caught sight of the intruder, hur- 
 ried down from her " coign of vantage," — made her 
 way along the gravel-walk, — and civilly accosted 
 him. — 
 
 " ]\Iy father is seldom out long after sundown," 
 said she, in answer to his renewed inquiries. — "I 
 expect liim home to tea. If you have business with 
 him, sir, pray wait in the house."
 
 11 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 Another minute, and, folIoAving her hospitable 
 guidance, he had crossed the threshold of what, in 
 a moment of petulance, he had presumed to call " a 
 cavern;" and on reaching the parlour, where tea 
 was laid out to await Farmer AtfiekVs return, 
 was half inclined to change the name into palace: — 
 so fresh and fragrant an atmosphere breathed 
 tlirough the open window from the little flower- 
 garden upon which it opened, where the evening 
 dew was rapidly rising ; — so inviting appeared the 
 home-made bread and butter, and country cream ; — 
 so white the homespun table-cloth, — so tempting 
 the farmer's old arm-chair ! And if the traveller 
 chanced to remember that, beside the clear-burning 
 fire of the kitchen they had traversed, there lay 
 a gridiron, and certain slices of smoked salmon,
 
 12 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 which the ohl woiiuui presiding there evidently kept 
 in preparation to be served liot on her master's 
 appearance, — be it accepted in extenuation that lie 
 had accomplished fourteen miles since morning, and 
 dined at noon. — 
 
 Both these circumstances, indeed, he lost no time 
 m explaining to his pretty hostess, as an excuse for 
 liis readiness in accepting the seat she offered. 
 A little surprised that the announcement called 
 forth no expression of commiseration, he could not 
 forbear adding, " and fourteen miles in this hill-and- 
 dale country may surely count against twenty along 
 a good turnpike road !" — 
 
 •'You are from tlie South, then, sir?'' demanded 
 Prissy, in a tone where some compassion was at 
 length perceptible. 
 
 "From London," replied the stranger, with an 
 air of self-complacency, implying tliat he considered 
 the fact satisfactorily attested Ijy his personal 
 appearance. — And Priscilla, Avho found herself con- 
 versing, for the first time in her life, with a citizen 
 of the Great Ihihylun, although the affability of his
 
 THE INUNDATION. 13 
 
 deportment evinced no undue pride in the distinc- 
 tion, could not refrain from momentary regret 
 tliat the work-a-day gown and straw bonnet in 
 whicli she had been surprised, should entitle her to 
 so low a place in his estimation. — Her second 
 thoughts, however, were best. 
 
 ''If you are from London," she I'esumed, "per- 
 haps you may be acquainted with my brother 
 John?"— 
 
 And so clearly did she read in the smile which 
 seemed to answer her query, a reproof of the folly 
 which supposed that, in a capital contuinhig a million 
 and a half of inhabitants, so humble an individual 
 as John Atfield, an engineer's articled apprentice, 
 could not escape notice, that she felt called upon to 
 add, "But I ask your pardon, sir. We country- 
 folks are apt to forget that it is not in London as at 
 Duddonstone ; where the few who are not akin to 
 their townspeople, hold together at least as neigh- 
 bours." — 
 
 She might have spared her apology. Listead of 
 listening, her guest, having started from his seat,
 
 14 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 ■\vas leaning over the window-sill, admiring the rich 
 tints of a bed of Prussian stocks, and inhaling the 
 fragrance of the honeysuckle and musk-roses trained 
 over the rouirh frontage of the house. — 
 
 "Crony!" he suddcaly exclaimed, " Cro, — old 
 Cro!" — as a venerable-looking tan-coloured lurcher 
 stalked along the gravel-walk leading to the house, 
 in the rear of a hale-looking old man, Aveariug the 
 blue smock-frock of the district. And though the 
 dog contented itself with stopping short for a second, 
 as if indignant at hearing its name pronounced by 
 an unfamiliar voice, the astonishment of Priscilla 
 Atfield was far greater than that of Crony. 
 
 In breathless agitation, she laid her hand on the 
 sleeve of the stranger. 
 
 " From London, and acquainted with our dog's 
 name?" — faltered she. — "Pray, pray, sir, — tell me 
 the truth ! — You bring us news from my brother ? 
 — Not bad ones, surely, or you would not look so 
 pleased ! " — 
 
 A letter placed in her hand, in that beloved 
 brother's handwriting, afforded an immediate answer
 
 THE IXL'XDATIOX. io 
 
 to her question?. — For in the corner was inscribed, 
 in clerkly text, " to tlie care of ]Mr. Mark Egley." 
 And before the delighted i^irl had time to extend 
 her hand to welcome the bosom-friend of her dear 
 John, — the " Jlark" of whom they were accustomed 
 to write and talk as though he v/ero the old 
 acquaintance of the whole family, — Farmer Atfield 
 made his appearance ; not, like his daughter, to be 
 perplexed and awkward ; but to exclaim, with cor- 
 dial glee, " IMaster Egley, I'm main glad to see 
 ye ! " — as tliough the traveller were an expected 
 guest. 
 
 So little expected, however, by poor Priscilla, 
 that, as soon as he became engaged in explanations 
 to Ins host of his difficulties in finding his Avay to 
 a spot so sequestered, she stole out of the room 
 to issue orders to Ruth, for the better credit of her 
 housekeeping ; and if, on her return, there were 
 cause to surmise from the smoothness of her braided 
 hair and gloss of her black silk apron, that she had 
 bestowed a little passing attention on her looking- 
 glass, she had not been less careful about the airing
 
 10 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 of the best linen for their only spare chamber; 
 Avhich, though untenanted for the last four years, 
 still went by the name of " Master Johnny's room." 
 
 The proof that she hud been peremptory as well 
 as active in her orders, was that the old woman's 
 grumblings commenced the moment the parlour 
 door closed upon lier young mistress. — Amid the 
 hissing of the fii-e and sputtering of the gridiron 
 V hile fresh eggs and rashers were preparing, excla- 
 mations of — " Tlie Lord be good to us — Sooch 
 foossing for a foreigner ! — They cooldna' do more 
 for Maister Johnnie himsel ' " — were distinctly 
 audible. 
 
 For Ruth made no allowance for the circumstance 
 that Mark Egley was the first of young Atfield's 
 friends who bad crossed his father's threshold ; and 
 was ignorant of his near relationship to the patron 
 who had done as much towards "IMaister Johnnie's" 
 advancement in life, as though he liad been a son of 
 his own. — 
 
 "But how came it, lad, that when ye got to 
 Dudd'nst'n, ye made no inquiry at the Nag's Head
 
 THE INUNDATION. 17 
 
 a'ter Master Atfield ? " demanded the farmer, 
 ■watching with delight the inroads made by his 
 guest into his brown loaf. 
 
 " Because, sir, thanks to my bad memory, or my 
 friend John's bad Avriting, I fancied it was at 
 Duddon Bridge I was to hear news of you. — Tiiere 
 I dined ; and there I passed, I suspect, for having 
 escaped from a lunatic asylum, from tlie eagerness 
 with which I kept assuring every elderly man I met 
 that his name was Atfield ! — But even at the Nag's 
 Head, (which Johnny was at so much pains to 
 knock into mine), they knew nothing of you. — All 
 the landlord could do was to satisfy me by the help 
 of a county map, of wliat I nothing doubted, i.e., 
 that such a place as Diidbourne Dale existed be- 
 tween that and Ravenglass ; — though, thanks to the 
 flies and tobacco-smoke which had converted white 
 paper into brown, it was not easy to distinguish 
 ivhere." — 
 
 " And all that time," cried the old man, in a tone 
 of vexation, " or, rather, all the time you've been 
 trudging from pillar to post in search o' what lay 
 
 G
 
 18 TUE INUNDATION. 
 
 close under your nose, tlicre was I, IMaster Egley, 
 fretting the a'ternoon ont ; — part in Dudd'nst'n 
 market-place, and part in tlie tap o' the Nag's Head, 
 — according as Johnny's letter had agreed on." 
 
 "You expected ]\rr. Egley, then, father ?" de- 
 manded Priscilla, vexed and surprised at having 
 been kept in tlie dark. 
 
 " Only sin' three o'clock, my dear,— when I found 
 a letter from your brother lying for me at the Post 
 Office," replied the f\irmer.— "If I'd know'd sooner 
 of his coming, d'ye think I wouldn't have sent a 
 man and horse as far as Dudd'n Bridge, to fetch 
 him ?"— 
 
 " By which, you would have spared your tea- 
 table the ravages I am making, my dear sir," 
 observed Mark, good-humouredly : — "but by which 
 I should have lost the most beautiful walk I ever 
 enjoyed in my life." — 
 
 " A beautiful walk ? No, no ! truth to tell, the 
 road's a main bad un ! "— said old Atfield, — with a 
 countryman's genuine insonsibility to tlie pictur- 
 esque. — " Up hill, aTid down dale ! — Even to me.
 
 THE INUNDATION. 19 
 
 as is used to it, the bridle-way, over Whitbeck, is a 
 breather ! " — 
 
 " I admit that your heathy fells have left me 
 scai'cely a leg to stand on," rejoined Mark, laughing. 
 " Yet I have had enough of London pavement in 
 my life, to wish I might never look again on a mile 
 of level ground !" — 
 
 " For the sake o' man and beast, lad, ye'd say 
 otherwise with tlie tillage of a farm on your hands!" 
 rejoined his host ; — when, lo ! an exclamation from 
 Priscilla, who, between the pauses of her tea-mak- 
 ing, had taken advantage of their chat to cast her 
 ej^es over her brother's letter, interrupted their 
 colloquy. 
 
 " Not a word, now ! " whispered Mark, leaning 
 towards her chair, on pretence of picking up a tea- 
 spoon which, with timely awkwardness, he managed 
 to throw down. — And the surprise with which 
 Priscilla heard and submitted to his injunction, was 
 rapidly fullowed by the feeling of intim.acy created 
 by a secret understanding. — 
 
 " In short, my dear llr. Atfield," resumed Mark, 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE INUNDATION'. 
 
 again addressing the farmer, as if following up their 
 previous conversation, '• I am just now as wild 
 after mountain-scenery as might be expected of u 
 poor cockney, — wandering, for the first time in liis 
 life, beyond the sound of Bow bell ! " 
 
 "Ay, ay ! Johnnie's letter informed me that you 
 were not much of a traveller," said the old man in 
 a tone of paternal superiority ; — " but that, luiviiig 
 business as far as Lancaster for j-our grandfather's 
 tirm, 3'ou had got leave to push on for a few days ; 
 and, besides making acquaintance with the bump- 
 kins at Dudbourne Dale, see all that was to be seen 
 hereabouts." — 
 
 " You struck off, of coui'se, from Dalton, to visit 
 the iron mines, and Furness Abbey?" — inquired 
 Prissy, anxious perhaps to discover whether their 
 new friend's motives were precisely such as he 
 alleged. — 
 
 " Out of three or four days, how was I to find 
 time ? ■' — retorted the Londoner. — " Do me the 
 justice to believe that I was in all haste to get here, 
 — and fulfil my promise to my friend Johnny,"
 
 THE INUNDATION. 21 
 
 added he, in a lower voice, as if afraid of incurring, 
 on his own account, the charge of over-assiduity. 
 
 "I wish Mr. Egley," rejoined Prissy, "that you, 
 ■wlio are no doubt in the secrets of tlie firm, could 
 afford us hope that my brother will be allowed a 
 peep, one of these days, at the old Cumbrian hills 
 he seems to have forgotten ? — My father is getting 
 in years." — 
 
 "A hard matter to believe, Avhile I sit looking 
 Mr. Atfield in the face ! " interrupted their guest, 
 with a glance at the hale countenance of the hand- 
 some old patriarch, who had long accomplished his 
 allotted threescore years and ten. — "However, now 
 the railroad has brought your mountains within- 
 visiting-distance of Milbank, I dare say Johnnie 
 will not be slow in taking advantage of it. — Does 
 his letter say nothing of such a project ? " — 
 
 Inferring from the question that she was released 
 from her engagement to secrecy. Prissy was begin- 
 ning, — " Of course it does ; and refers me to you 
 for further particulars ! " when she was luckily in- 
 terrupted by her f\\ther, who could not allow au
 
 2.2 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 allusion to the railroad to pass Avithout remon- 
 strance. — 
 
 " Ratlier spend as many more years without see- 
 ing him under my roof as I 've done since, thanks 
 to your good grandfather, Mr. ]\Iark, he left us to 
 be indentured, than have him risk life and limb 
 by your newfangled Avays o' tempting providenccj^" 
 cried he. 
 
 " Do not expect me, sir, to join in decrying what 
 has been the means of placing me in my present 
 happy situation," retorted Mark, accepting a third 
 cup of tea from the hands of his hostess. — '• And 
 as to tempting providence, dear Mr. Atfield, you, 
 who have, probably scores of times in your life, 
 dashed across the Lancaster sands, have surely no 
 right to quarrel wdth the dangers of a railway ? " — 
 
 "Idon'tw^ant to quarrel witli nothin' nor nub- 
 body, sir," answered the farmer, a little puzzled by 
 tlie phraseology of las Loudon acquaintance. — " But 
 this I know, that matters may run faster in the 
 world than tliey did in my youth, in the times of 
 the good old king wlio set his face again' Papists
 
 THE INUNDATION. 23 
 
 and Frenchmen, -without being anj tlie sait;r. — ■ 
 Wiser folks tlian youi- humble servant have still to 
 make up their minds whether steam ben't an inven- 
 tion of the powers of darkness ! " 
 
 " Come, come, my dear Mv. Atfield ! All this 
 sounds like high treason to a born -and -bred 
 engineer !" — cried the young guest. " The adoption 
 of steam-machinery has doubled the business of our 
 house, and the fortunes of my family." 
 
 A question of interest was never lightly dealt 
 with by Fai'uier Atfield. But while he proceeded to 
 cross-examine poor Mark concerning the engage- 
 ments and prospects of his venerable grandfather 
 James Egley, whose calling possessed an awful and 
 mysterious character in his unlettered eyes, old 
 Ruth saw fit to bring in candles ; much to the regret 
 of the two younger members of the trio, who found 
 the balmy atmosphere and thickening twilight 
 highly favourable to the advancement of their 
 sociability. Priscilla felt that she should not be 
 able to listen half so comfortably to the sallies of 
 the Londoner, now that he was able to examine the
 
 24 THE INUNDATIOX. 
 
 varying hues of her complexion ; and even !Mark 
 would have been content to exchange his survey of 
 her sweet countenance, for the still greater delight 
 of finding her perfectly at ease. 
 
 But, alas ! the share he occupied in her attention 
 arose so entirely out of the letter of which he was 
 the bearer, that already she was groAving a little 
 impatient for her father's signal for retiring to rest ; 
 that she might peruse, at leisure, the wondrous 
 tidings, concerning which he had not even allowed 
 her to express surprise. Poor Prissy felt almost 
 ashamed of the inhospitable haste with which she 
 hurried over her "good night;" and leaving to 
 Ruth the care of ascertaining that all was in order 
 for their guest, locked herself into her room, to 
 indulge, without further interruption, in the ejacu- 
 lations that could not fail to arise from learning 
 that her brother, — her only brother, — was an 
 engaged man : — not simply that he was in love, and 
 thinking of matrimony ; but that he had offered his 
 hand and heart to the girl of his choice, and that 
 both had been accepted ! —
 
 THE INT7NDATI0X. 25, 
 
 ** Mj fiither always exacted of me," -wrote tlie 
 imprudent Joliii Atfield, " that I should not think 
 of wedlock before mj thirtieth year; and as Le 
 himself did not take a partner for life till his fiftieth, 
 has certainly some right to make such conditions. 
 I am therefore prepared to find him anything but 
 pleased by the news of my opposition to his wishes ; 
 more particularly as Rose (a pretty name, is it not, 
 Pi-issy? and belonging to one on whom it sits so 
 becomingly !) has not a shilling in the world. — But 
 what does that signify ? Her frugal, self-denying 
 habits are better than house and land ; and her 
 good housewifery will make her a safer wife for 
 a poor man, like myself, than a rich heiress. But 
 as you may suppose, my dear sister, I should 
 not have ventured so far in the business, without 
 the perfect approval of my employer, of whom 
 Xlose riurstwell is a near relation ; and I con- 
 ceive that ]\Ir. Egley's promise to raise my 
 salary to three hundred a year on my marriage, 
 is intended more by way of a portion to his 
 kinswoman, than as a reward for services wliich
 
 2G THE IXUXUATIO.V. 
 
 lie mi^ht obtain elsewhere fur more to his advan- 
 tage. 
 
 "Ill short, my ilear-girl, the thing is done,— 
 that isj as fur as can be without my father's 
 actual consent; and I look to my little sister to 
 smooth whatever dilHculties may arise. My friend 
 IMai'k, who, having business in the North, has 
 kindly undertaken to deliver this in person, will 
 break it to him, and explain the particulars of 
 Rose's relationship, and the affection entertained 
 for her by his family ; and I shall be very much 
 disappointed, Priss, — very much disappointed 
 indeed, — if you do not enable him to bring me 
 back the assurance that my father sees things in 
 a favourable light, and admits that nothing will 
 make me so steady to business, as a good little 
 v.-ife and snug little home, to retire to after the 
 toils of tlie day." 
 
 Whatever might be the old farmer's notions on 
 the subject, it would have been strange indeed 
 if a girl of Prissy's age had not entirely agreed 
 with her brother; more particularly in favour of
 
 THE INUNDATION. 27 
 
 a sister-in-law said to be as pretty as her name ; 
 with whom John Atfield went on to say that he 
 had made acquaintance six years before, by saving 
 her life at a Milbank water-party — viz., saving it 
 as much as lives are usually "saved" on such 
 occasions : — by dragging her out of the shallow 
 watei", in which their ill-manned wherry had 
 capsized. 
 
 Still, though Priscilla saw everything in the 
 brightest light as regarded her brother's projects, 
 there was so much tliat was strange and startling 
 in the mode in which they were, transmitted to her 
 knowledge, that she had some excuse fur sitting 
 up till midnight to ponder over them. She even 
 heard, for the first time in her life, the old cuckoo 
 clock in the kitchen, under her bedi'oom, repeat 
 the two first small hours of the night ; while she 
 lay, wondering and wondering, and surmising and 
 surmising, and, above all, earnestly hoping that 
 Johnny's ambassador would open the matter dis- 
 creetly to her father. 
 
 It was almost daylight, indeed, before her eye-
 
 28 
 
 THE IXL.NUATIOX. 
 
 lids closed upon the conviction that she was about 
 to pass a happy though anxious day, and tliat she 
 liad turned a brighter page in the journal of lier 
 life.
 
 29 
 
 CHiVPTEli III. 
 
 Much as the youn_^ Londoner luul found to admire 
 in his friend Johnny's humble home, when viewed 
 under the extenuatinj]' circumstances of affordins: 
 shelter to tlie weary and a suj)per to tlie hunorj', 
 he found it twice as pleasant before the morning 
 dew was off the flower-borders, and while a warm 
 haze was overhanging the valley, as he accom- 
 panied the cheerful old man in a round of the 
 premises ; till Prissy, for once in her life too late 
 for breakfast, contrived to make her appearance. 
 
 But when she c/id arrive, and her self-accusations 
 Avere embellished by blushes as vivid as those of 
 the damask-roses in full flower in her little garden, 
 Mark Egley had no longer any hesitation in decid- 
 ing Dudbourne Dale to be the prettiest spot he had 
 chanced upon in the course of his travels ; more
 
 30 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 especially when old At field began to apologize for 
 being forced to absent himself, for parish business 
 at Duddonstone. 
 
 "A vestry meeting was appointed afore I got 
 your letter yesterday," said he, as soon as they •were 
 all seated at breakfast ; " else, as I 've missed ne'er 
 a one sin' I was appointed churchwarden, two year 
 agone, I should ha' proposed postponing it till a'ter 
 you'd left us." 
 
 " Dudbourne Dale belongs to the township of 
 Duddonstone," added Priscilla, in explanation of 
 what their guest thought quite sufficiently lucid; 
 " and once a week, my ftithcr is obliged to de- 
 vote the morning to parish business. It amuses 
 him, — as an excuse for Avalking over, and chatting 
 ■with his old friends ; for with only thirty acres of 
 land in his hands, he has scarcely sufficient interest 
 or employment." 
 
 Mark Egley pronounced himself strongly in 
 favour of parish meetings, and commendation of 
 Farmer Atfield's patriotism in such persevering 
 attendance. lie could not find it in his conscience
 
 THE INUNDATION. 31 
 
 to persuade the old gentleman to make an exception 
 in his honour, and, for one Thursday in the year, 
 bide at home, after learning that, from nine in the 
 morning till two of the afternoon, he -was to be left 
 to the care of Prissy. 
 
 " Five hours will not be a minute too long for 
 talking it over," said he, aside, to the young house- 
 wife ; and though her father was satisfied that the 
 observation related to the subject they had been 
 previously discussing, — the beauty of the environs, — 
 Priscilla was fully aware that her brother's friend 
 alluded to the love affiiir between Rose Hurstwell 
 and John. 
 
 " You must not think of me, my dear Mr. Atfield," 
 he continued. " On your return, we shall have 
 the afternoon and evening before us ; and if your 
 daughter will take ]iity on a poor cockney, and 
 aiford me a few glimpses ot" your neighbourhood, 
 without risking my precious neck by clambering up 
 the rocks which all but tempted me yesterday, I 
 shall be the happiest fellow in the world." — 
 
 "Ay, ay ! — Prissy makes a capital guide !" cried
 
 5:3 TIIIC INUNDATION'. 
 
 the old man, too pure of heart and exeniphiry of 
 life, to perceive the smallest impropriety in such tin 
 arrangement. — "Prissy kuows every bush and 
 vinding of the valley; whci-e, even at noon-day, 
 you 're sure of shade. — And she '11 take you doAvn 
 to the sands, lad, that is, if you 're fond o' the 
 sea ; — for as its Thursday, maybe you '11 get a siglit 
 o' the jManx steamer, on its way into Whitehaven." 
 
 The sight of a steamer afforded no great tempta- 
 tion to one whose habitual dwelling - place was 
 Milbank. But he readily accepted the proposal, by 
 way of setting his host's anxieties at rest. — It would 
 be easier and pleasantcr, he thought, to enter with 
 his new acquaintance upon the discussion of her 
 family aflairs in the course of a country walk, than 
 while sitting gravely opposite to her, in a room 
 where there was nothing Init needlework to break 
 through the cerenioniousness of so recent an 
 acquaintance. 
 
 And Piissy seemed to think so, too. For 
 scarcely had her father taken his straw hat from 
 the peg, and his oaken staff from the corner of the
 
 THE INUNDATIOX. 33 
 
 parlour, and, after another shake-hands with the 
 stranger, departed on his errand, when she hastened 
 to prepare herself. Before !^^ark Egley had made 
 tlie tour of the orchard, admiring the crop of 
 clierries ah-eady ripe, and the still more abundant 
 one of autumnal fruit in prospect, she was by his 
 side, with Crony bounding before her. 
 
 " I will not ask you if you are a good walker," 
 said she ; " for the heat is so oppressive, that we 
 shall be little inclined to exceed the limits of Dud- 
 bourne Dale. — At most, we can get upon the high 
 ground to catch the sea-breeze ; if, as I fear, we 
 find that in the valley not a breath of air is stir- 
 ring." 
 
 The traveller formally acquiesced. But the 
 moment they passed the outer wicket, and he found 
 himself treading once more the soft, arcen. elastic 
 turf, he spoke out with his usual frankness. 
 
 " Johnny's letter has told you all?" — cried he. — 
 *' You 710W know, ]\Iiss Atfield, the motive of my 
 visit?"— 
 
 " 1 read it, of course, before I slept." —
 
 34 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 " And what do you tliink of his prospects?" — 
 
 "It matters more what my father will think of 
 them!"— 
 
 " That argnos a doubt. — Yet I assure you 
 Johnny was sanguine that, after learning from m-.i 
 what an excellent creature he has chosen for hi.s 
 wife, and all my grandfather is disposed to do to 
 make their marriage come easy, ]\lr. Atfield would 
 say, without hesitation — 'Be happy, my boy, in 
 your own way.' " — 
 
 "If saying it would secure his happiness," — 
 again interrupted Priscilla. 
 
 " More doubts ? " — exclaimed her companion, 
 smiling at the crravity of her tone. " This is a 
 sad beginning for us ! — Johiuiy admitted that I 
 might perhaps have a little up-hill work with his 
 father ; but that Prissy, ( — forgive me, I am 
 only using his words !) would be sure to side 
 with him, and assist in obtaining her father's 
 consent ! " 
 
 "You will have all the aid in my power to 
 afford," rejoined Priscilla, — but still, gravely. — ''I
 
 THE IXUNDATIO.V. 35 
 
 am not, liowevcr. quite so confident as John. — 
 My father has a great objection to early marriage?, 
 
 — even -when the conjjle is well provided for ; — 
 and, above all, has a great mistrust of strangers. 
 — Like most people who have lived a life of I'etire- 
 raont, it takes some time to reconcile liim to a neAf 
 face." 
 
 "I, at least, have no reason for saying so,"~ 
 rejoined !Mark Egley. — " jMy face is a new one, — 
 and not quite so calculated to charm him as that 
 of my cousin Rose ; yet " 
 
 " lie has taken to vou at first siirht ! — True ! 
 
 — But rcraembei', that the name you bear is 
 that of his earliest friend, — of his son's bene- 
 factor ! "— 
 
 "And is not Rose his son's benefactor? — My 
 grandfather pretends that Johnny never worked 
 half in earnest, till he fell in love and had an 
 object in pushing forward in life." — ■ 
 
 " Still, I doubt my father taking to her as he has 
 done to you." — 
 
 "Not when you tell him, — not Avhen we bc(h 
 
 d2
 
 3G THE INUNDATION. 
 
 tell him, tluit Juliiui} 's happiness depends upon 
 the match ? " — 
 
 " Do you .suppose a man of thcreescore years and 
 fifteen -will believe ^is in preference to the experi- 
 ence of his gray hairs ?" — rejoined Pi-issy, with a 
 smile. — 
 
 "Experience — experience !" — retorted Iier com- 
 panion. " AViiat experience of three times tliree- 
 score years, spent in this happy valley, can be 
 apiilicable to a resident of busy, striving, thriving 
 London ? — Your father cannot possibly understand 
 against what allurements or what vices a young 
 man is screened by a strong attachment to an 
 amiable wife ! — lie cannot enter into the dangers 
 from wliich Johnny will be extricated by an early 
 marriage. — And secure, as your brother will be, of 
 competence and comfort" — • 
 
 *' But icill he be secure of competence and com- 
 fort?" interrupted Prissy, looking her companion in- 
 genuously in the face. — " You talk of his liaving 
 three hundred a year, — a great sun\ for him to earn, 
 certainly, — and three times as much as maintains
 
 THE INUNDATION. 37 
 
 our little household. But ice subsist on the pro- 
 duct of our land ; whereas, in London, everything, 
 they tell me, is so costly, and so many things are 
 wanted of which I do not even know the 
 name " — 
 
 " That you would have a man go moping through 
 life, without a creditable roof over his head or a 
 cheerful ftice to brigliten it, lest he should be unable 
 to provide luxuries for his family. — Fie, fie, fie, 
 Miss Atficld ! '■ — cried young Egley. " I had ex- 
 pected better thoughts in Dudbourne Dale ! " — 
 
 " I am trying to express what I fear will be my 
 father's opinion on the subject, rather than my 
 own," said Priscilla, timidly. — " ^ly father is a 
 plain man, — ignorant, as you just now observed, of 
 London customs ; and one of his grand prejudices 
 is against people being over-educated for their 
 station in life. If you tell him half you have been 
 telling 7ne of Rose's talents and accomplishments " — 
 
 " Never fear ! " interrupted Mark, in his turn. — 
 "I will tell him only of her affection for his son, 
 which I hope will be no disrecommendation. — I 

 
 38 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 must take leave to say, however, that wliat I have 
 seen of Mr. At field's f.uailj would never have led 
 me to expect that he liked people the better for 
 being ill brought up." — 
 
 " You quite misunderstand me, — icUJ'alhj, I be- 
 lieve ! " — added she, Avith a smile, ■when she saw 
 how intently young Egley was watching her coun- 
 tenance. — " But pra}' believe that could my father 
 have had his will, my brotlier and I should have 
 been far more plainly reared. "When we lost my 
 poor mother, ten years ago, and he gave up the 
 large farm he rented near Duddonstone (whei'e 
 her father was postmaster), my grandmother per- 
 suaded him to leave his children Avith her, instead 
 of bringing us to this lonesome spot. — And as all 
 he wanted was a new home, and new objects about 
 him, which did not constantly remind him of his 
 poor lost wife, he consented." 
 
 "It was the old lady, I believe, who prevailed 
 upon ;Mr. Atfield, at my grandfather's request," 
 observed ]\Iark, '"to despatch John to London for 
 the completion of his education ? " —
 
 THE INUNDATION. 39 
 
 "Most fortunately," rejoined Prissy, — "con- 
 sidering all that INIr. Egley has done to^vards estab- 
 lishing him in life." 
 
 " "Why couldn't they make up their minds to 
 send you holliV exclaimed JNIurk, with something 
 like a personal interest in the question. " My 
 excellent mother was then alive, who would have 
 done for you all she did for Rose Ilu.rstwell !" 
 
 '• It was with some difficulty my fatlier was per- 
 suaded even to leave me at scliool, at only a few 
 miles' distance, where he constantly rode over to 
 see me," replied Priscilla. " And four years ago, 
 my grandmother being dead, and myself of an age 
 to take charge of his household, I came to live with 
 liini in Dudbourne Dale ; and, instead of fniding 
 it the dull place represented, can assure you that 
 the time has passed like a day." 
 
 " Of course ! — Because you have been living 
 a useful, active life, and securing the happiness 
 of your father !" cried Mark, with enthusiasm ; 
 '• while your mode of applying your grandmother's 
 legacy to his use, has enabled you to surround him
 
 40 TUE INUNDATION. 
 
 with household comforts beyond those of any family 
 in the country round." — 
 
 " Yuu must have heard this from John I — I fan- 
 cied Jolui -was more to be trusted I" — exclaimed 
 Priscilla, Avith a deep blush. 
 
 " I won't deny that I have heard a great deal 
 about you from your brother," replied Alark, keep- 
 ing as close to her side as was compatible with tlie 
 straitening of the path. — '• 'Twas only right that 
 John should give me some insight into the cha- 
 racter of the person who was to assist me in bring- 
 ing round his father to consent to his marriage !" 
 
 As they sauntered on, engaged in pleasant chat or 
 still pleasantcr reverie, under shelter of the shrubby 
 clilTs, Mark Egley had no great leisure to watch 
 the sunbeams searching, as it were, into tlie stony 
 recesses of the Dudbourno, shining tliroiigh tlie 
 slender stems of its tufted reeds and wat^^rtiowers, 
 and the still slenderer ephemera suspended in 
 the sunny gleam ; marvellous creatures, with 
 wings of gossamer, scales of burnished gold, and 
 eyes of green enamel : — as fabulous, if described
 
 THE INUNDATION. 4i 
 
 to citj experience, as gnome or sylpli. The 
 air was fragrant -with the blossom of gorse and 
 heatlier clotliing the adjoining acclivities ; and 
 musical with that murmur of insect life and occa- 
 sional trilUng from the thickets, which animates 
 the atmosphere of the wilderness as the busy hum 
 of man does that of a populous city. 
 
 For some minutes, the young stranger felt con- 
 scious of far too exquisite a state of personal enjoy- 
 ment, to bring to mind tliat he had a friend residing 
 in ]\Iilbank, "Westminster, whose happiness for life 
 was dependent on his good offices in Cumber- 
 land. — 
 
 " After all," said he, suddenly bursting out of 
 his reverie,— "why set about devising stratagems 
 for disclosing Avhat, between those who really love 
 and confide in each other, cannot be too frankly 
 told !— I will simply relate to Mr. Atfield what my 
 grandfather intends to do for John in the event of 
 his marriage, and leave it to his own good sense 
 to say yes, or no, to the proposal." 
 
 "Then it will certainly say 'no !'"— rejoined
 
 42 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 Priscilla, untying lior straw luit, and exposing her 
 rich brown liair to the gentle breeze, which ever 
 a'.ul anon swept sportively from the west, as though 
 to remind the earth and her cliildren, amid their 
 tranquil confidence, that another and a mightier 
 element was at hand. — " It' the thing be proposed 
 to him as a bargain, he will treat it as a bargain ; 
 calculating only whether his son will be a richer 
 man at five-and-tliirty, burdened with the support 
 of six or eight children, out of his three hundred 
 a year; or //icn to commence life, with the savings 
 accumulated out of a smaller but unembarrassed 
 income." 
 
 '• But it is not so he must be allowed to view 
 the question I" cried INIark. — " Though a church- 
 warden. jMr. At field is oi)en to other arguments 
 than tliose whicli influence the board of a work- 
 house ! — You mu.-<t tell him — yes, you 7)iust reallt/ 
 tell him," — continued he, fixing his eyes with invo- 
 luntary admiration on the rich bands of hair which 
 enframed the oval of her exi)res>ivc face — " that 
 when two people, attached like Hose and your
 
 THE IXUNDATIOX. 43 
 
 brother, go tlirough life hand in haiul. from its 
 opening to its close, like — like — like the ramparts 
 of this quiet valley, Avhicli wind together, followin"' 
 each other's inclination with a settled jrarpose, 
 serving to fortify, and hallow, and set apart the 
 space between, so tliat the grass is greener, the 
 flowers rnore beautiful, the song-birds blither, and 
 liappier, and more abundant, than in the space 
 beyond, — it is not so much a question of profit and' 
 gain, as of beauty and holiness : — the wedded couple 
 and Dudbourne Dale being alike fairer objects in 
 the eye of Heaven, than the sands befure us, or the 
 barren moor above, — or such wild, useless, purport- 
 less, disconnected animals, as the humble servant 
 who stands before you." — 
 
 Mark Egley concluded thus gaily, because begin- 
 ing to fear, from the hei^-htened colour and olistening 
 eyes of Priscilla, that he was growing a trifle too 
 sentimental. And such was probably the case ; for 
 a moment afterwards she tied her bonnet closer, 
 and assumed a more formal gait. 
 
 It was owing, perhaps, to her never having tra-
 
 44 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 versed tlic valley before witli au intelligent com- 
 panion, or iiuleeil -with any otiicr than her worthy 
 father, wliose attention was absorbed in tlie condi« 
 lion of llie pasture, and whose conversation con- 
 sisted in grumbling at the rent exacted of him for 
 it by the township of Duddonstone, tliat she found 
 new beauty in the beetling crags wliich called fortli 
 the entliusiasm of her vi.sitor, — the richly-tinted 
 varieties of foliage, — and tlie deep blue of the ger- 
 mander enamelling tlie soil in such profusion, that 
 it was, as Mark Egley observed, as though the sky 
 were out of repair, and dropping blue fragments 
 upon the ground. — 
 
 " And do you really wander in this beautiful 
 valley, day after day, watching its clianges of foliage 
 and flowers?" said Mark, almost with a sigh ; "while 
 / am plodding over ledgers, stifling myself among 
 furnaces, or stunning my ears with the thumping of 
 steam-engines ?" 
 
 " Not day after day. — Except to accompany my 
 father to cluircli on Sundays, I am sometimes 
 weeks without passing the gate. — Insignificant as
 
 THE INUNDATION. 45 
 
 j-ou may think our household and garden, to main- 
 tain them in their present order, requires constant 
 care. — But when at leisure, I have no greater 
 delight than to keep my father company in an 
 evening stroll towards the sea. — It is such a sudden 
 and pleasant change to look out upon that boundless 
 horizon, and listen to the mighty voice of the ocean, 
 after long restriction to tlie closeness of the valley, 
 and its petty chirpings and murmurs." — 
 
 " Lucky those who have the choice at hand!" — 
 rejoined IMark. " To me, the sea-shore and the 
 brook-side are alike replete with charm and n.ovelty. 
 — But whom have we here," cried he, as a rough- 
 looking savage, who seemed afflicted with some sort 
 of monstrous excrescence about the shoulders, 
 appeared suddenly round the angle which Priscilla 
 had announced as the last turn dividing them from 
 the sea. — 
 
 "It is only Job, the fisherman!"' replied Pris- 
 cilla, — " in time, I am happy to see, to mend the 
 bad dinner awaiting you on your return. Wlien 
 the weather permits, we are sure of fish two or
 
 46 THE IXUNDATIOX. 
 
 three days of the -weeiv ; — the Dale patli being tlie 
 shortest way to Diuldonstone f'roiu the cove near 
 the liglithousc ; where a couple of boats provide a 
 subsistence for a few fi.shenneii's families, harboured 
 in a knot of hovels under tlie cliffs." — 
 
 "The shore is a bold one, then," inquired her 
 companion, "since you talk of cliffs and a light- 
 house? — I don't know why, unless that I am haunted 
 by the ghost of the Cartmel sands, — but I fancied 
 it a level coast." — 
 
 " Tliere are some dangerous reefs of rock, half-a- 
 mile up the shore toAvards Ravenglass, concerning 
 Avhich we have sad legends in the country of ship- 
 wreck and destruction ; and so fiir, the shore is such 
 as the clilf-5 overhead might prepare you to expect," 
 said Priscilla, glancing upwards to the gray pin- 
 nacles clearly defined against tlic pure blue sky. — 
 *' It was the number of droadl'ul casualties on our 
 coast, which determined the Admiralty, about ten 
 years ago, (just about the time my father settled in 
 Dudbourne Dale,) to erect a lighthouse." 
 
 " And liave we time to reach the spot ?" inquired
 
 THE INUNDATION'. 47 
 
 Mark, — to wliose city -bound notions, the scene 
 of scvenil frightful wrecks was a point of attrac- 
 tion. 
 
 " Certainly! — It is but ten minutes' walk beyond 
 the estuary, I seldom attempt it alone. The fisher- 
 people ai-e a disagreeable race, and tb.e man at the 
 lighthouse is a surly recluse; so that, liaving no 
 interest in that direction, my father and 1 generally 
 turn southward." 
 
 Mark Egley liad an excellent opportunity at that 
 moment to judge of the fisher-people ; for the plod- 
 ding figure, wearing loose canvas trousers tucked 
 into a pair of unaccountable boots, and a patched 
 bhie jacket on his shoulders, Avas near enough to 
 make it apparent that tlie excrescence, so unseemly 
 at a distance, was neither more nor less tlian a fish- 
 basket ; which, on beincr hailed bv Priscilla with 
 a cheerful " ffood-dav," he insisted on unbucklini?, 
 to exhibit his stock. 
 
 " Raytlicr deal with the young missus," he said, 
 " than with the old hag, Ruth ; who bargained and 
 haggled as if fish was to be had for dipping your
 
 48 THE IXUXDATIOX. 
 
 hand into the Dudbourno, without risk of life or 
 limb, or cost of cordage." 
 
 And though PrisciHa, unteniptcd by liIs assu- 
 rance that his soles and -whitings had been alive 
 and fresli in the water an hour before, would fain 
 have declined the housewifely office of choosing her 
 fish before her guest, the green turf was covered 
 in a moment with the glittering scales of the con- 
 tents of Job's basket ; while the astonishment of old 
 Crony was not a little excited by two or three 
 blue lobsters making clumsy efforts at escape: — 
 a scene highly amusing to the Londoner, who had 
 never before seen such objects out of a fishmonger's 
 leaden Iray. — 
 
 " The tide is coming in, tlien, Job ?" inquired 
 Jliss Atfiehi, after making her selection. 
 
 " Cooming in !" repli(Ml the fisherman, — a man so 
 meek that liis name seemed to have been given him 
 by way of byword ; and so well drilled by a ter- 
 magant wife, that his voice was a mere echo. 
 
 " Yet you seem to have passed the brook dry- 
 sliod ?" persisted Priscilla.
 
 THE INUNDATION'. 49 
 
 *• Drysliood ! " repeated Job, who, having placed 
 at the top of his basket the fish chosen by his cus- 
 tomer, stood waiting for ]Mark Egley's assistance 
 to heave his burden upon his shoulder. 
 
 "We need not in short put down stepping-stones 
 here fur crossing the Dudbourne ?" 
 
 " Ye needn't put doon stepping-stones here for 
 crossing the Doodbourne," responded the precise 
 Job ; and having received the aid he needed, and 
 nodded his thanks, the taciturn fisherman plodded 
 on his way again, as uncouthly as before. 
 
 " At low water," observed Prissy, as soon as he 
 was out of hearing, " it is easy to cross the estuary, 
 by taking up a few stones on the beach, and throw- 
 ing them down before you as you go. — But, when 
 the tide is in, it is necessary to cross the bi-ook 
 hereabouts, and keep clo^e under the opposite clifts 
 till you reach the shore ; — the turf being treacherous 
 and swamp}', and the water too strong to ford." 
 
 " Then, for precaution sake, as your friend so 
 sparing of his words has given us but scanty infor- 
 mation, supposing we make sure of our footing,'' 
 
 £
 
 50 THE IXUXHATIOX. 
 
 said Ivlark. — Aiul before Pi'iscilla could express her 
 dissent, slie found licrself quietly lifted by tlic waist, 
 and placed liigh and dry on the opposite marge. 
 
 A little surprised, Priseilla laughed off her con- 
 fusion I)}' assuring him tliat a country life rendered 
 her too great an adept in brook-fording and gate- 
 climbing, to render assistance necessary ; and a 
 moment afterwards, on issuing from the narrow 
 gorge in wliieh they and the mountain-stream had 
 been enclosed, they came full upon that waste of 
 "waters which, of all tlie monitors of nature's bestow- 
 ing, brings lunnan b-eings the most readily and com- 
 pletely to a sense of their insignificance. At that 
 minute, the sea before tliem was as blue as the 
 summer sk}' over their heads ; varied only by v/liitc 
 specks in tlie distance, — the sails of merchant-vessels, 
 announcing the littleness of the best efforts of man- 
 kind to contend with the vastuess of the waves 
 Avhich Britannia is said to rule. 
 
 A sense of relief, pn^dueed I'v eineiging from the 
 stagnant air of the valley into tlie bieezy and balmy 
 atmos])here of that boundless space, rendered them
 
 THE INUNDATION. 51 
 
 silent Pjr a time, as they stood ■watching the gradual 
 advance of the tide, till, from the level sand over 
 which the Avater skimmed so smoothly, it rose with 
 a foamy fringe upon the rough shingle, into whicli, 
 instead of receding, it seemed to disappear. 
 
 " How beautiful and how refresliing !" said Mark, 
 in an under tone totally different from the ringing 
 and joyous accents in which he had been joking and 
 conversing in the valley, as he leisurely surveyed 
 the coast, with its headlands receding faintly in the 
 distance. 
 
 " If my father were here," said Priscilla, " lie 
 could tell you where to look out for the "Welsli coast, 
 and v.'here for the Isle of Man." 
 
 " I care little for distant objects," was his re- 
 joinder. — " The blue sky, and blue sea, suffice." 
 And a glance into his companion's face at that 
 moment, seemed to imply that there was anotlier 
 near object included in tiie essentials to his happi- 
 ness, which discretion forbad him to name. — 
 
 Priscilla was the first to propose moving onward 
 to the li':;hthouse. — " If vou v/ish to see it, we
 
 53 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 must be stirriiig," saitl ftho, — '• or my lutliev may be 
 anxious at not finding us, on his return. Not, 
 however," she continued, as soon as tliey were 
 a"-aiu in motion, '■ tliat I can answer for your ad- 
 mittauce. — ^Master Francis, the liglithouse-keeper, 
 keeps himself close shut up within his little 
 tower, — with no companion, or any one to assist or 
 serve him, but Job's wife, Lune ]Moggy, tlie greatest 
 scold in the neighbourhood. — Tlie people hereabouts 
 entertain, in fact, a surt of awe of tlie person capable 
 of breaking the spirit of Cloggy, and living from 
 year's end to year's end, looking out upon the great 
 deep, with no companion but his own thoughts." — 
 
 " An old man, of course ? " said iMurk. " Young 
 people are too restless for such confinement ! " 
 
 "I conclude so. — I remember hearing Job say it 
 was not above once a week, or so, his gray head 
 was seen in the enclosure lie has fenced oif round 
 the tower, and converted into such a garden as the 
 sea-breezes will allow." — 
 
 " Even the loneliest recluse, you see, finds plea- 
 sure in something ! " — observed Mark.
 
 THE IXUNDATIOX. 53 
 
 " My father being at the cove a few w.^eks 
 after his arrival," resumed Priscilla, " and fancy- 
 ing it was for his own supply he had dug and 
 trench 4 the ground, sent him by Job, by way of 
 neigh jourly kindness, a basket of fruit and vege- 
 tables."— 
 
 "An acceptable gift, — to one living on the 
 edge of a moor, a couple of liundred feet above the 
 level of the sea ! " — 
 
 " On thecoiitrarv, — within two hours after it left 
 our house, tlio basket was returned ! — We after- 
 wards found that Job had been paid to bring 
 it back ; that no time might be lost in signi- 
 fying Master Francis's cluu-lish determination to 
 receive no fiivours from strangers." 
 
 " Neighbours oiujlit not to be strangers !"' retorted 
 Mark.— 
 
 " So my father tliink?, — because so the Bible 
 teaches ; — and the pride and moroseness shown iu 
 the rejection of his advances, inspired him with 
 a bad opinion of the new-comer. But from that 
 day to this, nothing farther has passed between
 
 54 THE INUXnATlON, 
 
 us ; our ambassador biiing, as you have seen, 
 as uncoininunicativo as IMastcr Francis could 
 wish." — 
 
 " All vou tell me doubles my desire to get a 
 sight of the lighthouse ! " — cried Mark. — " I never 
 chanced to stumble on a real riiiht-down livins 
 misanthrope." — 
 
 " And do you wisli it ? — Ten to one he -will 
 affront you ! " — 
 
 " I am not afraid. — The proverb tells us the 
 devil is painted blacker than he ?>. — How do we 
 knoAV but something in Job's bearish mode of 
 executing your father's commission, may have 
 caused the basket to be sent back ? " — 
 
 " At all events," said Priscilla, " I am afraid I 
 cannot offer to accompany you, if you want to obtain 
 a sight of the interior of the lighthouse. — Jly 
 father entertains such a grudge against our un- 
 gracious neighbour, tliat he would be displeased at 
 my attempting to cross his threshold. — I and Crony 
 will rest lU Moggy's hut, to await your return." — 
 
 " Between a brute and a scold, you have a sorry
 
 THE INUNDATION. 55 
 
 choice," retorted Mark, with a hiugli. — " Tlie regret 
 of leaving you to such slielter would determine me, 
 indeed, to renounce my project, were }0u not likely 
 to attribute my change of mind to dread of being 
 hugged by the bear you have been describing." 
 
 " On the contrary, my womanly curiosity inclines 
 me to Yv'ish you would persevere," rejoined Priscilla. 
 — "I should like to obtain, through you, some insight 
 into the mvsteries of the enchanted tower." — 
 
 " Here we are, then !" said Mark, as they reached 
 the point where the shelving rocks, receding into 
 the shore, formed a sort of natural cove, or haven, 
 about a couple of hundred feet from the spot where 
 the ligiithouse, proudly predominating over the 
 cliffs, announced to the unwary mariner that the 
 black, unshapely masses, which at low tide might 
 be mistaken for a shoal of marine monsters lying 
 helpless on the sand, constituted, at high watei-, 
 a bottom of sunken rocks, of the most dangerous 
 description, against whicli many a gallant vessel had 
 gone to pieces.
 
 56 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 There was something so marine in the aspect of 
 the habitations abutting on the clitrs affording sliel- 
 ter to the little cove, tliat they seemed as exactly 
 adapted to tlicir inliabitunts, as an oyster-shell to 
 its oyster ! — IMasses of tangled sea-weed, thrown on 
 the shingle by the tide, and gathered up to burn for 
 ashes, — to say notliing of spars, sails, and nets 
 stretched to dry in the sun, — impregnated the air 
 VfJtti saline particles and so strong a savour of poor 
 Job's vocation, that, as IMark Egley observed to liis 
 companion on approaching the spot, one expected to 
 sec mermaids and prawns emerge from those sliell- 
 encrusted dwellings, instead of women and cliil- 
 dren, — 
 
 "Nothing tlie least like a mermaid, however !" 
 added be, as Lame i^Iogg}- liobbled to the door-post,
 
 THE INUNDATION. 57 
 
 and stood staring at them with one hand clutched 
 into the elf-locks of an urchin, Avho was hanging to 
 her tarpaulin apron. — "I am much mistaken, if 
 yonder Avater-kelpie had ever either comb or look- 
 infr-";lass in her hand ! " — 
 
 His indignation at the incivility with which 
 Moo-ti^V lent a Krud^ring ear to Priscilla's explana- 
 tion of their errand, (interrupting her every now 
 and then by cries to the elder of her offspring, wJio 
 were busy, either at work or play, under cover of 
 a lean-to adjoining tlie hovel, — the roof being com- 
 posed of an old bi'oken boat, the rusty tar of whioli 
 was sending forth in the sun a pungent vapour,) — at 
 length so mastered his patience, that he would not 
 hear of being obliged to her. 
 
 Instead, however, of listening to his protestations 
 that he had lost all inclination for visiting the light- 
 house, — that if they loitered longer they should be 
 too late for Farmer Atfield's dinner-hour, — Priscilla, 
 by addressing herself to the vulnerable point of 
 Moggy's character, mollified as by a charm her 
 unjiracious demeanour. An allusion to their
 
 58 THE INUNDATION'. 
 
 encounter with Job, tlicir lihoral bargain, and a 
 request tlmt the best fi.sh broufjht in by tlie coble 
 should be set npart for her for some days to come, 
 decided the thrifty housewife to propitiate her gene- 
 rous customer. 
 
 " A young man from Loon'on a-wanting to see the 
 light'us'?" slie now inquired, shoving aside a shoal 
 of little minnows smelling of seaweed, who, at the 
 sight of strangers, gathered for protection round 
 their parent triton: — '-and Avlioy not? — Plenty's 
 the foolks as coom holiday-making from Bootle and 
 Dood'nst'n, oy, and down Oolpha awa', for a dip 
 i' the saut water, and a look at ta loights" — 
 
 ■ And on Priscilla's expressing a wish that Moggy 
 would undertake the introduction of her companion, 
 receiving prosier remuneration for her trouble, the 
 grumblings and mutterings with which she inquired, 
 "who was to moind ta bairns?" v/ere far more 
 easily appeased than might have been expected 
 from the scolding wife of the meek Job. — 
 
 Moggy even proceeded to hint, that for a sufii- 
 cient ''• con-sideration," her neighbour of the adjoin-
 
 THi: ixrxDATiox. 59 
 
 ing hut would undertake, during licr absence , the 
 care of the children, (whom Priscilla had promised 
 to keep out of mischief,) in case the young hay 
 should wish to enjoy the fine sea-view commanded 
 from the lighthouse. The day was so clear, that 
 Moggy did not scruple to pi'omise them a sight of 
 Scotland, Ireland, England, and Wales, as from the 
 top of Skiddaw; — to say nothing of a peep into 
 Dudbourne Dale, and a distant view of the Isle of 
 ]Man. — I\o keeper of an itinerant telescope or 
 camera-obscura, could be more comprehensive in 
 his program. — 
 
 " No need to say nought afure Maister Frawncis 
 o' whar y're coomed fro', nor whar y're gooing to," 
 — added Moggy. — " All 's one to him, so 's ha 's na 
 questioned nor mislested." — 
 
 " The ungracious way in wliich he behaved to 
 my father,"' replied Priscilla, " is quite sufficient 
 to deter me from incurring an obligation to him." — 
 
 '• Y"r feyther — y'r feythcr ! " retorted Moggy, 
 whose boorishness Lad pcrhi'.ps gained a shade in 
 roughness from daily communication with the
 
 60 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 recluse, — "who knows, lass, but y'r foythcr may 
 ha' been the furst to bleame ? — Y'r feyther 's ahaird 
 inon, Miss Atfield, as the pair foolk know to their 
 coost. — H's'ever, keep a still tooiigue in y'r head, 
 muss, and ye 'II pass for ane o' tlie Bootle pleasurers, 
 and noon the wiser ! " — 
 
 " Do come with me, — do pratj come with me I — 
 I enjoy and understand nothing I am sent to visit 
 alone!" pleaded IMark ; and on learning, in reply, 
 that Ills companion had long experienced consider- 
 able curiosity concerning the lighthouse, and was 
 only prevented complying with his entreaties 
 by dread of displeasing her fatlier, he inidertook, 
 with sanguine self-reliance, to explain to Farmer 
 Atfield that the arrangement was entirely of his 
 making, and tluit he had refused to leave his fair 
 guide alone amidst a horde of unruly L-rats and 
 their half-savage mother. — 
 
 Still Priscilla hesitated. Nor was it till jMoggy 
 assured them she had " left iMaister Frawncis only 
 lialf-an-hoor abye, a' work in liis garden;" and that 
 she would obtain his sanction as tliey passed through
 
 THE INUNDATION. 61 
 
 the enclosure, and herself undertake the office of 
 marihaUing them to the hT.ntern, as she had done 
 many a curious visitant before, that, ceding to a series 
 of wliispers from Mark Egley, the purport of -which 
 ■was Greek to jMoggy and not particularly clear to 
 herself, she followed the guidance of tlic " water- 
 kelpie " (as suddenly converted to Christianity as 
 the king of the Goths, by a half-crown slipped into 
 lier horny hand by the " Loon'oner,") up a steep 
 ascent, so roughly shaped in the craggy cliffs, that 
 she was half inclined to auree in Mo";fjy's sujjijes- 
 tion, that "foolks who cam' clombing thereawa' " 
 should be shod, like herself, with a pair of Cumbrian 
 brogues. — 
 
 By the aid of frequent breathing-pauses, firm 
 clingings to the jutting rock, and occasional support 
 from !Mark who followed close in the rear, she at 
 length attained the summit of the cliffs ; out of 
 a grassy mound of which arose the lighthouse, — 
 apparently a stony growth of the rocks below. — 
 
 A burst of admiration avouched the delight with 
 which Priscilla hailed the glorious expanse that lay
 
 62 THE INUNDATION, 
 
 before her, basking in the sun ; and while she and 
 her companion stood enjoying the imposing scene, 
 their guide hobbled ofF to the enclosure hedged off 
 with quickset, in the rear of the lighthouse; one 
 half of -which consisted of an ill-cultivitcd, ill- 
 thriving garden-patch; and the other of a rough grass 
 plot, on which were tethered a goat and licr kid. — 
 It was to the former portion, in which an aged 
 r.ian, arrayed in a sailor's dress, was trenching the 
 ground as earnestly as though his subsistence 
 depended upon the product, tliat IMoggy directed 
 Iter limping steps ; and tlie permission for v.hich 
 she applied was so readily and listlessly granted by 
 Master Francis, that, had INIark and Priscilla been 
 watching his movements, instead of giving v.-ay to 
 the feelings arising from the survey of the glorious 
 scene before them, they would have perceived that 
 the old man did not so much as raise his head from 
 the spade over which he was leaning, for a glance 
 at the applicants. So instantaneous, indeed, was 
 his acquiescence, as almost to give rise to the sus- 
 picion tliat tl;e shrewish temper Avhich had dr lied
 
 TlIE INUNDATION. C3 
 
 poor Job into an a;itomaton, had not been altogether 
 ineffective elsewhere. 
 
 " Y're free to coom and ffantr, voonir folks ! " was 
 Moggy's terse announcement of the success of her 
 mission ; on vlilch, as if suddenly relieved from 
 restraint, iNlark Egley faced towards the tower, and 
 bestowed a due tribute of appUiuse upon the boldness 
 of its outline, v/hieli represented something between 
 the martello tower of our southern coast, and tlie 
 liMithouse of the olden time. — One of the first 
 erected on the principle of a revolving light, its 
 machinery was of a more cumbrous nature tlian any 
 now in use ; — the building being so constructed as 
 to afford a roof and shelter to the guardian of the 
 lighthouse. 
 
 Ah'eady, Priseilla Atfield had explained to her 
 companion, v/Ith an exulting countenance, that 
 since tlie establishment of Duddon llghtliouse, and 
 the life-boat laid up in tlie cove, not a wreck had 
 occurred on tliat part of the coast, — formerly pro- 
 verbial for its casualties ; — and as Master Francis 
 had been, from the iirst, its sole overseer and offici-
 
 64 THE INtrXDATIOX. 
 
 ator, subject only to annual visits from the inspector 
 of the harhour at Whitehaven, some credit was 
 due to his vigilance. — 
 
 " Small thanks to him fur tliat ! " observed Mark 
 to Priscilla, as they followed the hobbling ascent of 
 old Moggy, up the winding staircase, whieh daily 
 practice rendered more familiar than easy. — " What 
 has he got, pray, to distract liis thoughts from ply- 
 ing his Avindlass, trinnning liis lantern, or greasing 
 his machinery ? — The old fellow's goats and garden 
 do not seem of so interesting a quality as to divert 
 a man from the discharge of his duties." — 
 
 A reproof from Moggy reminded them that 
 sluggishness and drink are as perilous to tlie poor 
 as vices of fairer aspect to the rich ; or as, to 
 use her own words, " the scran o' rocks down yon, 
 fro' which the light'us, — (praise be to the Lord's 
 and tlie Queen's goodness !) had rescued the lives of 
 /.hem as go down to the sea in ships." — And by the 
 time she had delivered herself of her lesson, they 
 Had wound their way past the little cell-like 
 chamber inhabited by Master Francis, to the iron
 
 THE INUNDATION. 65 
 
 door, secured with a bar and staple, tliat opened into 
 the lantern ; — " An ill perch," Moggy informed 
 them, " to roost on, o' blusterous nights." — 
 
 Surprised to find that what at a distance appeared 
 a lantern of little more than ordinary proportions, 
 was a chamber in which she could stand upright, 
 and where the reflector, so effective as a beacon of 
 safety to seafarers, was dim with saline exhalations, 
 Priscilla was beginning to doubt whether the sea- 
 view obtained were sufficiently superior to that 
 afforded by the cliffs below, to compensate for the 
 tediousness of the ascent and the unpleasant va- 
 pours of the place, which, hermetically sealed, smelt 
 of the lamp like a Cambridge professor. — 
 
 "Boide 'till y've had a look through J\Iaister 
 Frawncis's long spy-glass " — cried Moggy, " and 
 ye 11 no' be long crying down the grondness o' the 
 view." 
 
 And, to their surprise, they found that the per- 
 mission granted extended even to the habitation of 
 the keeper. — Priscilla, indeed, remonstrated against 
 such an invasion of his privacy. — But the old 
 
 F
 
 S6 TIIK INUNDATION. 
 
 woman assured lier slie was the first visitor who 
 had proved so sc'ru])uluu.s ; and Mark, in higli 
 spirits, and full of curiosity to know wliat miglit be 
 the domestic conit'brts of a Robinson Crusoe estab- 
 lished more than a hundred feet above tlie level of 
 the earth, readily accepted the offer. — 
 
 At the first glance, there was nothing in the little 
 chamber rounded at one end by the shaping of the 
 tower, into which they were admitted by Moggy, 
 to distinguish it from the cabin of a ship of small 
 tonnage. — But as soon as the eye got accustomed to 
 the twilight afforded by its arrow-slit of a window, 
 there was something in the neat liammock and 
 matted floor, Avhich, considering the untidiness of 
 Moggy's personal habits, did credit to Iier care. — 
 Besides the hammock and a wooden chair and table, 
 the furniture consisted of a handsome telescope, 
 upon its stand, marked as the property of tlie 
 Admiralty. 
 
 But in spite of Moggy's entreaties that they 
 would take a look at the Isle of Man through the 
 spy-glass, neither Prissy nor Mark felt inclined to
 
 THE INUNDATION. 67 
 
 meddle -with the costly instrument : tlie former 
 being absorbed in reflections arising from tlie dis- 
 covery that the well-woru book, the only one in 
 the room, lying on the table, was a school-boy's 
 copy of the New Testament ; and that a small 
 black frame, appended to the Avail, contained, in 
 Heu of the print or picture she expected, an inscrip- 
 tion, in clerkly text, of that foundation-precept of 
 Christian love — " Forgive us our trespasses as we 
 forgive them that trespass against us ! " — 
 
 "Not exactly what one might have expected in 
 the den of such a churl as Master Francis ! " ob- 
 served Mark, in a low tone, to the ruminative girl. 
 — Then, addressing the old woman, he inquired 
 whether the cell in which they were standing com- 
 prised the whole habitable portion of the lighthouse; 
 and was comforted to find there were two lower 
 stories, — one containing the linen - press, books, 
 and clothes of the recluse, — while the ground-floor, 
 which he inhabited in winter-time, was furnished 
 with a stove. 
 
 " I was beginning to feel a little rueful on the 
 
 F 2
 
 68 THE INUNDATIOX. 
 
 old tellows account, a.s regards Cliri-tmas-tiine I" 
 said ISIark — after a last glance through the singlc- 
 pancd Avindow at the immeasurable ocean, wliicli, at 
 that height, seemed viewed as from the mast of a 
 ship. — 
 
 " But is it not strange," •whispered Prifcilla, 
 " tliat a being condemned to this forlorn existence, 
 should have so ungraciously repelled the advances 
 of mv father ? "— 
 
 And, saddened by a sense of commisei'ation, 
 she Avound her Avay in silence down the dim stairs ; 
 while JNIark, less soft of heart, was pondering upon 
 the charm v>'hicli neatness and order impart to even 
 the least attractive habitation. — 
 
 As they were about to issue from the basement- 
 door into the freshness of the summer air, a piteous 
 cry, mingled Avith barkings and yelpings, caused 
 them to quicken their steps. — For to all three, the 
 cause of the disturbance instantaneously presented 
 itself. — Crony, Avho had been consigned to the care 
 of Moggy's children, and tied up to her door-sill 
 lost he should perpetrate some doggish mischief in
 
 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 69 
 
 the premises iuto which they -were about to intrude, 
 had bitten tlirough the cord, and niside his way after 
 his young mistress ; — when, lo ! the sight of the 
 kid, frisking on the grass-plot near its motlier, 
 proved too much for his canine philosophy. Already 
 he was chasing the little animal round the enclosure, 
 equally to the indignation of the old goat and the 
 old goat's master ; when, just as the enemy had 
 seized its victim by the leg, Priscilla appeared on 
 the threshold, and, by a single admonitory word, 
 recalled the offender to her feet. 
 
 While apologizing for the disaster which had oc- 
 curred, jNIark Egley appealed eagerly to Moggy for 
 confirmation of the pains they had taken to fore- 
 stall it. But their rugged host paid little attention 
 to their assurances. — Leaning over his old favourite, 
 who was fondly licking a severe wound on the leg 
 of the kid, which lay bleating on the grass, it 
 was not difficult to pei'ceive that the old man's 
 mutterings were mingled Avith bitter imprecations. 
 — Even when Priscilla, having secured her dog to 
 the gate-post, advanced towards the group, he made
 
 70 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 no effort to control his wratli. — But she was tot 
 discreet to indulge iu fVuitless excuses. — Her fir» 
 idea was to be of" use. — 
 
 '• I am afraid, Master Francis," said she, '• thai 
 the little creature's leg is broken. — It is unable tc 
 stand." — 
 
 On wliicli hint, the limb was carefully examined 
 by its indignant master, and her judgment con- 
 firmed. — 
 
 " If you would trust me to bind it up," said she, 
 calmly, — " I am used to such accidents at my 
 father's farm ; and can undertake tliat in a few 
 days it will be cured." — 
 
 At the first sound of her gentle voice, the surly 
 lighthouse-keeper raised his eyes from the wounded 
 kid, and fixed them on her face. But at this offer of 
 Ler services, made in so kindly a manner, he lifted 
 the cap from his gray liairs, and tlianked lier grate- 
 fully. — "His rough hands,' he said, "were not 
 equal to the task she had undertaken " — 
 
 " And which belongs to those who are the cause 
 of tlie misfortune," added Triseilla. — Then, address-

 
 THE INUNDATION. 71 
 
 ins^ Mark, slie begged him to carry back to the cove 
 the offender she was about to release ; and turning 
 a deaf ear to his remonstrances against leaving her 
 alone in a strange place, closed the wicket u2)on him 
 and Cronj, who still showed his teeth like an animal 
 baulked of his prey. — While retui'ning towards 
 Master Francis and the victim, she tore into 
 strips the handkerchief which had served her dog 
 as a cord ; and produced from her pocket that 
 obsolete indispensable of female industry, a house- 
 wife. 
 
 As she was about to raise the wounded kid from 
 the ground, Master Francis held her arm. — Though 
 tethered, the goat was sufiiciently at liberty to be 
 dangerous to a stranger attempting to remove her 
 offspring. But having himself taken it into his 
 arms, lie led the way to a wooden bench, placed 
 under the shade of the hawthorn-hedge and light- 
 house ; and held it while Priscilla, with a firm but 
 careful hand, which avouched at once experience 
 and humanity, bound the broken limb tightly in the 
 linen bandafre : and haviii"; sewed it over with
 
 72 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 skill and expedition, desired that it miglit be kept 
 moistened with cold water. — The soothing manner 
 in which she handled and cheered her little dumb 
 patient during the oi^eration, opened a way straiglit 
 to the heart of its master. — 
 
 " You muit lorijive me, vouii^r ladv," said he, 
 "forliuviiig been a bit rough at first, on finding 
 this helpless thing bleeding on the grass. — A man 
 who leads the lonesome life that I do, is apt to make 
 too much a friend of any dumb animal that keeps 
 him company; and, for years, my goat has been my 
 sole companion." — 
 
 Priseilla longed to rtjoin — "Because such is your 
 pleasure," — and to renew the friendly overtures 
 formerly made by Dudbourne Dale. — But aware 
 that, of late, her father's feelings towards their 
 neighbour had become anything but favourable, she 
 dared not hazard an advance. 
 
 " I am grieved that my dog should have been the 
 cause of molesting her," rejoined she, with nn 
 embarrassed blush, on finding the eyes of the old 
 man perusing every lineament of her face. " Had
 
 THE INUNDATION. 73 
 
 1 thought of visiting the lighthouse on quitting 
 home, I should have left him behind." — 
 
 An expression of his hopes that she had fully 
 gratified her curiosity, or if not, that she Avould 
 return at some future time, when he would make it 
 his pleasure to show her over every part of it and 
 explain the various points of view it commanded, 
 afforded her some satisfaction, as a proof that 
 Ci'ony's delinquency was forgiven. Though it 
 would have been hard, indeed, if the owner of such 
 a table of the law as she had found suspended in 
 Master Francis's bedroom, had proved a man of 
 implacable resentments ! — 
 
 She was already beginning to thank him, and 
 demur about at once accepting his offer, when 
 Mark, heated by the speed he had used in hastening 
 to rejoin her, dashed through the gate, as though 
 he expected to find her scattered limbs strewed 
 around the lion's den. It needed not for him to 
 remind her, as she had previously reminded himself, 
 that her father's dinner-hour was two, and that 
 they must not be loitering.
 
 74 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 After a few gracious Avords of farewell, therefore, 
 and the expression of a hope tliat tlie speedy reco- 
 verj of the wounded animal might do credit to her 
 surgery, the young couple prepared to depart. 
 Tliey had already reached the wicket, when the 
 gruft' voice of Master Francis, rendered still hoarser 
 by some inward struggle, caused Priscilla to turn 
 round. 
 
 " Shake hands before you cross my threshold !" — 
 said he. " Maybe I shall never see your young 
 face again. But 'tis one there is a pleasure in 
 having looked upon !" — 
 
 And the glistening aspect of his eyes, as he fixed 
 them with a yearning and paternal look upon her 
 features, attested the sincerity of his words. 
 
 Another minute, and she was picking her way 
 down the rough stairs of the cliff ; thankful to 
 accept the hand of Mark Egley, who descended 
 backward before her, to sustain licr unsteady 
 footing. — 
 
 " Custom 13 everything ! " said Prissy. — " The 
 poor old lame fisherwoman makes far less fuss in
 
 THE INUNDATION. 75 
 
 accomplishing this feat than I in the full vigour of 
 health."— 
 
 And Moggv, who -was waiting for them at the 
 foot of the clitFs, to bid them thank their stars the 
 " Maister " had taken so peacefully the misdemean- 
 ours of Crony, seeing that he was " a turrable mou 
 when his bluid was oop," fully confirmed the sup- 
 position. — She admitted having to climb to the 
 lighthouse '' ma' be, sax times i ' the day ;" and 
 except in one of the hard frosts so rare on the sea- 
 coast, without fear of mischance. — 
 
 An additional gratuity bestowed for the care of 
 the delinquent Crony, vrho jumped nearly out of his 
 skin and quite to the Avaist of his mistress, for joy 
 at his release, put the old woman mox'e than ever in 
 conceit with visitors of an order so rare to her ex- 
 perience. But that her cabin contained only a stale 
 barley loaf, some whitings' heads, and a crock of 
 brackish water, fain would she liave given vent to 
 her hospitable feelings by inviting them in. — 
 
 '• Send me word by Job how the poor kid is 
 getting on," said Priscilla, at parting from lame
 
 76 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 Moggy; who, like lier patruii of the lighthouse, and 
 the month of ^March, had ijegun like a lion and 
 ended like a hunb, — " But say nothing to blaster 
 Francis of us. As he is not disposed to be on 
 friendly terms with my father, better not mention 
 my name." — 
 
 The old woman promised ; and kept screeching 
 out a reiteration of her promise, so long as their 
 uneven path along the shingle kept them in sight. 
 
 Tliey had turned into the valley, — they had even 
 passed the angle whicli served to shut out the sea, 
 and traversed the brook on the old stepping-stones, 
 — before Priscilla could throw c(F the painful im- 
 pression produced by the strange emotion of the 
 solitary old man. — 
 
 " It is from no want of natui-al feelino:, vou see, 
 that he keeps his frllow-creaturcs at bay I " said 
 she, in reply to the rallying of her companion upon 
 her reverie. — 
 
 " He may have met with severe trouble," observed 
 Mark, doubtingly. — 
 
 " Trouble inclines me to seek company and kindly
 
 TUE INUNDATION. 77 
 
 words, for consolation," rejoined Priscilla. " But 
 on such points, few people feel alike. — My father, I 
 believe, came from a distant part of the country to 
 settle at Duddonstone, only from having met -with 
 reverses which made his native place distasteful to 
 him."— 
 
 "Yes — from Slvipton- in -Craven," interposed 
 i\Iark, " where he and my grandfather were born 
 and bi'ed." — 
 
 "And, later in life," added Priscilla, "when dis- 
 tracted at my poor mother's death, he broke up his 
 housekeeping at Duddonstone and came to live in 
 this out-of-the-way spot, with not so much as a 
 dalesman's hut within a mile of him, — as if satis- 
 fied to be alone with his sorrows." — - 
 
 " I should sincerely congratulate our new friend, 
 Master Francis, on being alone witli his," rejoined 
 Mark, to divert her from the gloomy strain into 
 which she was falling : — " for I would as soon have 
 an old crow for my familiar spirit as lame Moggy!" 
 
 "But if she be serviceable, — faithful, — at- 
 tached ? "—
 
 78 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 " I would still rather look out fur some one to 
 render me service and fidelity who did not make 
 it desii'able to close my eyes and hold my breath 
 while giving my orders. — The old beldame wants 
 only fins to be a fish ! " — 
 
 " I was afraid you were going to say a shark, — 
 a name Avhich, if half the tales told in tlie neigh- 
 bourhood of her ferocity to poor Job be true, would 
 not be ill-bestowed. — But instead of abusini; her 
 just after she has rendered us service, advise me, 
 ^Ir. Egley, what I shall do about breaking to my 
 father our unlucky visit to the lighthouse." 
 
 " Surely you are not afraid he will resent 
 it ? "— 
 
 "Not if all had chanced as I fiincied it would ; 
 and we had passed for Duddonstone strangers, and 
 attracted no notice from !Master Francis. — But 
 when my father finds that I have actually made 
 acquaintance with a man against Avhom he has con- 
 ceived so strong a prejudice — " 
 
 "You must endeavour to remove the prejudice — 
 that is all I can suggest ! — You must tell him how
 
 THE INUXDATIOX. 7i) 
 
 forgivingly the old man put up with the aggressions 
 of my friend Crony." — • 
 
 " At any other time," interrupted Priscilln, " the 
 •whole affair would be known to my father before I 
 had been five minutes in the house. — But fore- 
 warned of his dislike to the stranger, I tremble at 
 the thoughts of harassing him just as you are 
 about to make your disclosures about poor John. 
 — Temper is a sad tyrant over us all." — 
 
 " Not over you, I am certain ! " remarked young 
 Egley— 
 
 "And many people judge clearly, and decide 
 kindly, so long as their's is unruffled," pursued 
 Priscilla, " who, the moment they are out of hu- 
 mour, find it as impossible to receive any fair im- 
 pression, as water whose surface is rippled, to render 
 back a clear reflection." — 
 
 " Then, by Jove, we must not ripple the surface 
 to-day, by throwing stones into the stream ! " cried 
 ^lark : " for everything depends, for your brother, 
 on my obtaining a fair and dispassionate hearing — 
 It is surely not worth vrhile to provoke Mr. Atfield's
 
 80 Till': INUNDATION. 
 
 displeasure by volunteering the information that we 
 Lave been treading forbidden ground, when angry 
 feelings miglit provoke some angry word, never, 
 never, to be recalled ! " — 
 
 The natural inteiiritv of Priscilla's character was 
 about to find vent in remonstrance against anytliing 
 resembling duplicity or deceit ; when lo ! startled by 
 the sudden barking of Crony, who was bounding 
 on before, she raised her eyes to find the object of 
 their discussion advancing rapidly towards them. — 
 Marl; liad only time to ascertain, by a furtive glance 
 at his watch, that it was nearer three o'clock than 
 two, to account for the contraction of the farmer's 
 brow, which, even at a distance, was sufficiently 
 apparent. — 
 
 Peevish, for want of his dinner, and urged by 
 the impatience of Kntli (wlio was waiting the 
 signal of their arrival, to place the soles in her 
 fryingpan, ) thoiigli weary from a morning of 
 untoward business. Farmer Atfield had come in 
 quest of the truants ! — •
 
 81 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The old gentleman's clispleasui'e did not long hold 
 out against the cheerful greethig of his guest ; 
 who had so much to say concerning the pleasantness 
 of his walk, and the beauties of the scenery they 
 had been exploring, that the farmer forgave him not 
 only liis want of punctuality, but his having 
 onutted to note the number and fine condition of 
 the cattle pastured in Dudborne Dale. 
 
 Prompt atonement, moreover, was made l-y 
 Priscilla for her delay, in the celerity with whicli 
 she changed her dress and re-braided her hair while 
 dinner was placed on table. And by the time old 
 Atfield had appeased his temper, and opened one of 
 the bottles of fine old cider he had brought forth 
 from his famous cellar in the rock, he was dis- 
 posed to pledge as hearty a health to his visitor, 
 
 G
 
 82 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 as thougli they Imd been seated at table precisely as 
 the clock struck two. 
 
 Viewed by daylight, his handsome face somewhat 
 more coloured than usual hy confronting the July 
 sun upon the open cliffs, Mark Egley presented so 
 strong a resemblance to liis grandfather, as Atfield 
 had parted from him at Skipton half a century 
 before, that scarcely was the cloth off the table, 
 when the farmer extended his hand to his guest 
 with tl)e gripe of a blacksmith's vice, and eyes 
 almost as tearful as those witli which the recluse of 
 the lightliouse had gazed upon Priscilla. — 
 
 " As handsome a stripling as ever stepped in 
 shoe -leatlier, was my friend James !"' cried the 
 farmer, watching the creaming of his cider, as he 
 prepared to do justice to his toast : "But you're as 
 like him, lad, as one "Windsor bean to anotlier ; — 
 except tliat j-ou 're a tiiougiit taller and more 
 upright, and a deal clearer of complexion." — 
 
 In return for sucli straightforward compli- 
 ments, (the less distasteful, perliaps, from being 
 offered in presence of Priscilla,) ^lark Egley could
 
 THE INUNDATION. 83 
 
 do no less, after drinking to Lis grandfather's 
 health, than applaud the beauty of the dessert. 
 
 " Ay, lad ! — tis'nt often you'll find such fruit 
 vithin reach of the seabreezes !" said the farmer, 
 " With ne'er a wall worth speaking of but such as 
 Prissy 's taken possession of fur her honeysuckles, 
 — peaches, or nectarines, I don't pretend to ; and 
 apricots don't thrive even so far inland as Dudd'n- 
 st'n. But as for bush-fruit, or orchard-fruit, 
 I back myself again Ulpha Park and all its 
 gardeners." — 
 
 " My grandfather has some famous forcing- 
 houses at Milbank," observed Mark. " He built 
 them, I fancy, as a spec.; and, for some years, made 
 them answer. But as soon as I grew old enough to 
 distinguish a bunch of Hamburgh grapes from a 
 Providence pine, I persuaded him that fruit good 
 enough to sell, was twice as good to eat ; and 
 between Johnny's inroads and mine, only a few 
 guineas' worth finds its way to Covent Garden." 
 
 Priscilla, who understood this vaunt precisely as 
 it was meant, as a pretext for the introduction of 
 
 g2
 
 84- THE INUNDATION. 
 
 Iicr brother's n:iine, noJilrtl npprovingly to young 
 Eglcy. But ulrciuly, lier lather had resumed the 
 thread of his discourse. — 
 
 " I'm a bit out of zest for talking about fruit or 
 gardens to-day !*' said he. *' I've had such a plague 
 of a morning, thanks to such matters, that I could 
 find it in my heart to root up every strawberry- 
 bed yonder, — though they're counted the finest i' 
 the parish." — 
 
 "A plague of a morning brought about by a 
 yarden, father?" — exclaimed Priscilla, a little 
 surprised. — 
 
 "Such a blow-up at our vestry-meeting," resumed 
 the farmer, addressing Mark, " as I never expected 
 to witness, unless maybe at a bull-bait! — You're 
 to know, lad, that Dudd'nst'n parish being a 
 \ iearage, the large tithes go to the lord o' the 
 manor, ami tin; small 'uns to the parson: — whose 
 family being large, and his gains smallish, he 's not 
 circumstanced to pass over whatever rights he can 
 make good." — 
 
 " And why should he?" cried Mark.— « Whether
 
 THE IXUXDATION. 85 
 
 in trade or profession, tlie labourer is worthy of his 
 hire." 
 
 " Ay, to be sure !" — reiterated the churchwarden, 
 authoritatively thumping the shining oaken table. 
 " Tliat 's just what I said myself. — Yet, there's a 
 fellow, you 're to know, in these parts, — a fellow 
 taking government pay, :md feeding on bread 
 kneaded out o' the pockets o' the people, who not 
 only refuses to pay tithe for his garden, on plea 
 that 'tis a waste bit, reclaimed by his own industiy 
 for his own 'special use and pleasure, — but takes on 
 himself to insult the paroch'al officer by whom pay- 
 ment is claimed, and threatens to fling him uvver 
 his hedge, if he shows his nose again on the pre- 
 mises !" — 
 
 Priscilla turned red for a moment, and then 
 as pale as ashes ; convinced, from the allusion 
 to government pay and her father's unusual 
 exasperation, that the insubordinate to whom he 
 alluded Avas no other than Master Francis ! — A sad 
 augury for their intended announcement I — 
 
 "I'm afraid. Mv. Atfiehk the land is still to be
 
 86 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 discovered by circumnavigators or arctic expedi- 
 tions," rejoined JMurk, as gravely as he could, 
 "where a taxgathcrer is ever otherwise received 
 than as Reynard is welcomed to tlie hen-roost. 
 People will pay their butcher, their baker, their 
 candlestick-maker, without a wry face ; but it is 
 hard work to wring a man's taxes out of his 
 pocket ! " 
 
 "But how's the government to be carried on, 
 sir — how 's ever the government to be carried on," 
 cried the farmer, (growing a little redder about tlie 
 gills, as the bumper of cider he had filled to 
 " Queen and Constitoosh'n " after the cloth was 
 removed, brought the " eloquent blood " to his sun- 
 burned cheeks, and eloquent words to his month,) 
 "if nobody will pay the piper for keepin' up the 
 law o' the land, and the doctrines o* the church ? — 
 Law and gospel don't grow by the wayside, younf 
 gentl'man, like docks and thistles ; and him as won't 
 render to Ctesar the things that be Ctesar's, hasn't 
 no right to expect what things is his own will be 
 kept his own, by the help o' Ca3sar's centoorions."
 
 THE INI7^rDATI0N. 87 
 
 <I trust, my dear Mr. Atfield," cried INIark, too 
 high in spirits to take due heed that he offended not 
 with his tongue, — "you have no thoughts of rob- 
 bing this radical rascal's orchard, as a punishment 
 for his lawlessness ? " — 
 
 The farmer looked hard at him, to make sure 
 that nothing was intended but a harmless joke ; and, 
 satisfied on that point by ]\Iark Egley's open smile, 
 resumed his anathema. — 
 
 " From first of his coming here, I knew tlie fellow 
 was a churl and a do-no-good !" cried he. — "The 
 man who thrusts aside the hand of a fellow-creatur' 
 extended cord'ally tow'rds him, is like enow to 
 have blood or dirt on his own ! "' — 
 
 " Nay, nay, i\Iaster Atfield, — we mustn't judge 
 quite so hardly!" remonstrated Mark. — 
 
 " One can't help the judgments God Ai-MiGHxr 
 puts into one's mind!" exclaimed the farmer. — 
 " And so convicted do I feel that this here man, 
 who denies the church her own, and a neighbour 
 the pleasure o' doing him service, is some .skulking 
 vasrabond, that were a warrant out in the nei^lib'r-
 
 88 TUE INUNDATION. 
 
 hood for a suspected rogue, name unknown, I sli'ud 
 say at once to the constable — Sarch first at llie 
 lidith'us-!"— 
 
 " jNIy dear i'atlier," cried Priscilla, who had been 
 casting anxious ghmccs towards Mark Egley, in 
 hopes of encourivjcment to commence licr explana- 
 tions, " I liave J erhaps hesitated too long about 
 acquainting you with something which, I fear, will 
 greatly displease you. — But what you have just said 
 determines me, injustice to others, to unburden my 
 mind. — You must not be very angry ! — Mr. Egley 
 will tell you tliat the act I am about to confess was 
 quite unpremeditated " — 
 
 "The act you are about to confess!" reiterated 
 the old man, alarmed at so strong an expression. — 
 
 " When we set off on our walk this morning," 
 resumed his daughter, "all I thought of was to 
 show our London guest that, however beautiful the 
 inland scenery hereabouts, we had a noble sea-view 
 within reach " — 
 
 " And when I insisted upon visiting tiie light- 
 house," interposed IMark, eager to relieve her of
 
 THE INUNDATION. 89 
 
 some poi-don of her responsibility, — "your daughter 
 assured nie, sir, tliat it was impossible ; — that you 
 had cause to complain of the lighthouse -keeper, and 
 would be displeased if we entei*ed his premises," 
 
 "In spite o' which you did enter them?" — inquired 
 the old man, sternly. 
 
 " It appeared so unlikely tliat the person in 
 question would surmise the name of his visitors," 
 persisted j\Iark, " that when, on reaching the cove, 
 one of the fishermen's wives offered to conduct us 
 over the place, I argued so strongly against Miss 
 Atfield's reluctance, as to induce her to bear me 
 company," — 
 
 The fanner had no need to utter an indignant 
 comment. — On hearing a voice so reproachful from 
 the lips of her father, tears had already gushed into 
 Priscilla's eyes. 
 
 " The mere curiosity of seeing hoAV a lantern 
 was made to turn round a -top of a tower!" 
 — ejaculated tlie old man — as if arguing with 
 himself, "A fine temptation truly, to break a 
 fund father's commandment !" —
 
 00 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 " I can assure you, dear sir," cried Mark, draw- 
 inir his cliair a little closer tuwai'ds liis host, " that 
 no one but myself" is to blame ! — I did not choose 
 to leave your daughter alone, among the half- 
 humanized people I saw at the cove ; and partly by 
 entreaty, — partly by intimidation, — induced her to 
 accompany me in viewing what old Moggy in- 
 formed us Avas a common holiday -show in the 
 neighbourhood. ' 
 
 Farmer Atfield sat impatiently drunmiing the 
 table with his horny knuckles. But he answered 
 never a word. It was only when his daughter 
 again appealed to his indulgence, that he spoke 
 out. — 
 
 " From the day he was born till this present 
 speaking, Prissy," said he, '• by word or deed, your 
 brother never crossed my will ! — Yet he's a man 
 grown, lass ; — a man in mind and statur'; — able to 
 'arn his own way in the world, and put others in 
 the way of 'arning it ; so that for him tliere might 
 be some excuse in judging for himself." — 
 
 '• Lut indeed and indeed, dear father, I never
 
 THE INUNDATION. 91 
 
 tliouglit of judging for myself, in opposition to 
 your -wislies," rejoined Priscilla, the tears at length 
 overbrimming her eyes, and stealing down her 
 cheeks. — " I was desirous only of affording amuse- 
 ment to our visitor, — to the kind friend of my 
 brother, — to the grandson of your own old friend, 
 father ; and thought I could never transgress in 
 overlooking a prohibition given so long ago that 
 I hoped it was out of date. — Believe me, dear 
 father, I would renounce all the sights and 
 pleasures in the world, sooner than vex you for 
 a single moment." — 
 
 Mark Egley was beginning to be of opinion that 
 the man who could resist such pleading, to say 
 nothing of the gentle tears flowing from a pair of 
 
 Dove's eyes, that could make gods forsworn, 
 
 deserved to be placed in the fiercest of his grand- 
 father's furnaces, to give him a chance of melting. 
 — But he was all the more gratified when 
 Priscilla, though manifestly trembling at heart, 
 found courage to pursue her righteous way. — 
 " I should scarcely have dared to tell you all this
 
 92 TUE IXUXUATIOX. 
 
 to-night, father." said she, " but that, as you 
 sfiem so set against this stranger, it is but right you 
 should know, tliat -while we were on sufferance 
 upon his premises, my brother's dog attacked a 
 harmless pet of hi.'^, and wounded it severely. But 
 so far from resenting the injury, Master Francis 
 was as thankful to me for bandaging up the leg of 
 liis kid, as though the oli'ence were not of our com- 
 mitting." 
 
 " Our do": break tlie leg of an animal belonging 
 to him ?" said the farmer, bitterly annoyed at finding 
 himself innocently in the wi'ong. — 
 
 " And I promise you, dear sir," replied JSIark, 
 " that few men wduld have taken the thing so 
 mildly as /le did. — In Master Francis's retreat, 
 I'.owevor, we liad already found a tablet inculcating 
 the Divine precept of forgiveness of injuries ; 
 and, fortunately, the Christian practised what he 
 preached." 
 
 To tliis hint ensued a silence of some minutes' 
 duration. — FaruK'r Atfield, who was not o I'y by 
 nature a pious man, but fancied himself bound, as
 
 THE INUNDATION. 93 
 
 Cliurclnvarden, to exliibit a double sluire of sub- 
 mission to scriptural precepts, felt rebuked bj so 
 apt an application of gospel law. — Had Pri.scilla's 
 disobedience regarded any person breathing, or 
 thing extant, but the lighthouse and its guardian, 
 he would not have hesitated to bid her cheer up, 
 for that her fault was forgiven. As it was, the act 
 of pardon required a struggle. — It was not till she 
 had taken his hard weather-beaten hand, and again 
 repeated, " Father — forgive me ! " that he hugged 
 her to his heart, and imprinted a fervent kiss upon 
 her cheek. — 
 
 •'Now I'm at ease again — now I'm happy!" 
 cried jMark, — after tlianking old Atfield fur hi.s 
 clemency, as though Priscilla were /tis property, 
 and not her father's. — But, eager to profit by the 
 softening of the old gentleman's heart, before the 
 hands of his loving daughter had relinquished tlieir 
 pressure, he ventured to add — "You said just now, 
 sir, of Johnny, what I should be glad indeed if my 
 grandfather were able to say of myself, — that, 
 from his childhood upwards, he had never given
 
 9-4 THE IXUNDATION. 
 
 you a moment's pain. And liajipy am I to be able 
 to inform you that he is in a way to gratify youx* 
 expectations by adding a hundred-and-fifty pounds 
 a year to his income, and securing a good wife to 
 help him take care of it : — that is, sir, if you can 
 be prevailed upon to sanction liis choice." — 
 
 " John Atfield going to be married ? " — cried the 
 old man, dropping liis daughter's hand, and again 
 contracting into sternness. — 
 
 " Not going to be married, my dear sir, — but 
 desirous to be married, — if you oppose no objection 
 to his choice, which has my grandft^tlier's warmest 
 approbation." — 
 
 "His employer's consent then was asked, previous 
 to his father's ? "— 
 
 " Not as his employer. — But Rose Hurstwell is 
 my grandfather's relative and ward ; and it was 
 useless fipplying to you while uncertain of the 
 affections of the young lady, and the approval of 
 her family." 
 
 " Young ladg P — reiterated the farmer in a tone 
 of scorn. — " "What sort of a bride, is e'er a young
 
 THE INUNDATION. 95 
 
 lady in the land to make for John Atfield, the 
 millwright ?" — 
 
 " Young woman, I should more properly have 
 said, sir," rejoined Mark, — who would have been 
 content to call his cousin a " young crocodile," had 
 the term been calculated to conciliate the fractious 
 humour of his host. — " You may infer, from her 
 being the kinswoman of your old friend James 
 Egley, and chiefly brought up under his roof, that 
 her birth and breeding threaten no great danger 
 to the homeliness of John Atfield's house- 
 keeping." — 
 
 The words " John Atfield's housekeeping," 
 grated on the old man's ear : — in the first place, 
 because, soured by early disappointment, every new 
 person with whom he was forced into contact was 
 more or less an object of mistrust : — in the next, 
 because he was one of the many narrow-minded 
 parents who contemplate but grudgingly the inde- 
 pendence of their children. — 
 
 " And if so near and dear to your family, Master 
 Mark," said he, " how came you, pray, to let the
 
 96 THE INUNDATIOX. 
 
 young htchj go a-begging for a husband ? — Ho^y 
 came it j-ou did not secure her yourself?" — 
 
 "Because, my dear ^Ir. Atfield, by a chance 
 which I now begin to think providential, I have 
 never hitherto had the least fancy for settling 
 in life. — jMy mind misgave me that my wild 
 oats required a deal more sowing, before good 
 grain was like to t:ike root. Though, if your 
 goodness should enable my friend Johnny to 
 become a family-man, his example might have 
 great influence over my-t-lf, liad any body 
 offered me, six montlis ago, an heiress with 
 the fixce of an angel to become JNIrs. M. E., 
 I should still have said, 'liurrah for a bachelor's 
 life!'" — 
 
 " I don't know what you mean, sir, about my 
 goodness," resumed Atfield, peevishly ; while his 
 daughter, better skilh.'d to interpret the changes of 
 his countenance, preserved an embarrassed silence. 
 *' If John Atfit'ld 's in circumstances to maintain a 
 family, he wants neither help nor consent o" mine. 
 But if it *s my strong box he's an eye to, you maj
 
 THE INUNDATION. 97 
 
 tell him from me, the old man doesn't intend to take, 
 his shoes off till he goes to bed." — 
 
 "He wants nothing from you, farmer, nothing 
 in this world, but your consent and blessing to his 
 bride," cried Mark ; " in dcfiiult of which, it is but 
 right to inform you that my grandfather would do 
 nothincj towards the match." — 
 
 " Why, what is James Egley to do towards it ?" 
 
 " Double the salary of his clerk, — Avhich nearly 
 trebles the amount of any given in our establish- 
 ment." •• 
 
 ! 
 
 '' And on what grounds, pray ?' — 
 
 *' His desire to secure the happiness of an orphan 
 relation, by uniting her to one of the worthiest 
 fellows breathing, — the son of his oldest friend." — 
 
 It proved so puzzling to Farmer At field to find 
 a harsh rejoinder to such kind expression?, that 
 Priscilla ventured to break into the conversation 
 with a fond tribute to the Avorthiness of her brother, 
 and the certainty that he would be happy and nialia 
 happy in domestic life. — 
 
 " I don't but say," replied the old man fractiously, 
 
 n
 
 98 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 that three hundred a year 's great 'arnings for a 
 young fellow o' Johnny's years. — I don't but say 
 that the better half of it must be a grant from 
 I\Iister Egley's generosity." — 
 
 For her father to call his old friend " Mister" 
 Egley, Priscilla was aware that his temper had 
 indeed, iis seamy side outward. 
 
 " Still, it 's my humble belief," continued the 
 farmer, " that John would be twice as like to 
 thrive in the world if enjoying half the 'arnings, 
 and harassed by none of the burthen." — 
 
 " A good argument to prevent his falling in love 
 — were it still preventable," retorted Mark. — "Eat 
 a man who is at once strongly attached, and tlie 
 object of a strong attachment, is apt to get careless 
 over his business, if his love-affairs run contrary. 
 And if you decide, sir, that John Atfield must give 
 up all thoughts of marrying my good and pretty 
 little cousin, the next thing I shall expect to hear 
 of 13, his falling out with the firm. — After being so 
 many years the industrious apprentice, disappoint- 
 ment may perhaps convert him into the idle one !" —
 
 THE INUNDATION. 99 
 
 " Then he 's not -woi'th the thought we 're wast- 
 ing on him !" — retorted the old man. " What, sir '. 
 — because prevented from marrying at th.e moment 
 that takes his fancy, the girl who's taken his 
 fancy, a young man is entitled to sulk with 
 providence, and fly in the face of his benefactors ! 
 — In that case, if nobody 's to work but them as 
 Has their hearts' content, how 's the business o' life 
 to be carried on ?"— 
 
 "I can assure you, Mr. Atfield," — Mark Egley 
 was beginning — 
 
 " Don't assure me !" — interrujjted the farmer ; 
 "If any body 's a right to speak to such a matter as 
 we' re argooing, 'tis Jacob- Atfield. — I began life, (as 
 your grandfatlier has maybe told you,) a richer 
 man than I am at this moment, after fifty years' 
 labour and sparing ! — Like your friend Johnny, I 
 fancied that, because above the world, my happiness 
 was nothing without a v/ife." — 
 
 " Admit, at least, that a taste for early marriages 
 runs in the family !" — 
 
 " God grant the hopes of my sou be not as 
 
 n 2
 
 100 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 suddenly stricken down, as mine ! — By an act of 
 treachery which it would be nothing to the purpose 
 now to relate, — I was ruined, sir, — ruined afore I 
 saw thrce-and-twenty years of age ; — my plighted 
 wife taken from me, and myself left shiftless in the 
 world !•'— 
 
 Priscilla, who, overpowered by the unusual 
 emotion of her father, had sunk back in her chair, 
 again affectionately took his hand. — 
 
 " Bat even then, though wounded to the quick," 
 resumed, the old man, — " I did not despair. No, 
 young man. — I know that the Almighty plants U3 
 on this earth, to struggle with evils, and not to 
 yield to 'em. — Youth and health were still my own ; 
 and with these and a great patience, I quitted 
 Skipton a year or two a'ter your grandfather left it 
 to seek fortune in Loon'on ; — and for thirty years, 
 Master Mark, — thirty long years, did I toil and 
 toil among strangers, till I had worked my ■\\ay up 
 in the world, so as to secure a maintenance ; and 
 then only, having found in Dudd'nst'n a good kind 
 heart as was willin' to share it wi' me, married. —
 
 THE INUNDATION. 101 
 
 A very happy home, — few happier — was mine, for 
 a year or two. Cut soon after Prissy's birth, my 
 poor wife was taken from me ; when, finding that 
 new cares must occupy my mind and new objects 
 my eyes, afore I could be the same man again, — 
 (no, not the same man again, for (hat could never 
 be,) — but a man ready to do his best for his own 
 behalf and his children's, — I put the babes where 
 they were better cared for than I could care for 'em ; 
 and settled hei-e in Dudbourne Dale, where there 
 was every thing to do, — and where, praise be to 
 God, all I have done has prospered." — 
 
 " And 3^our children have prospered too, IVIr. 
 Atfield !" rejoined his auditor, — who was lending 
 him the most respectful attention. — "Ask whom 
 you please, and they will tell you that these twenty 
 years have not brought to man's and woman's estate 
 a young man more beloved than your son, — or," 
 added he, in a lower voice, — " a young Avoman 
 more deserving to be so than your daughter." — 
 
 " I thank God for 'em, sir, and find no {\vult 
 with 'em I" — replied the farmer. —
 
 103 THE IXUXBATIOX. 
 
 " And you will, I trust, after due thinking over 
 the business, enable me to give a satisfiictory reply 
 to this letter," resumed Mark, taking one from his 
 pocket, and placing it in the old man's hand. And 
 after seeing the spectacle-case duly drawn forth, — 
 the spectacles carefully wiped and put on, — the 
 seal as charily broken as though the wax were of 
 gold, — and the page fairly unfolded, — Mark Egley 
 ventured a slight signal to Priscilla to follow him 
 silently out of the room, and leave her father to his 
 cogitations. — 
 
 Away they stole, on tiptoe. Another moment, 
 and they were wandering side by side, along a walk 
 hedged Avitli sweetbriar and honeysuckle, trans- 
 planted by the industrious hands of Prissy from the 
 neighbouring Avoods ; and so fragrant was the air 
 under the shadow of the cliflfs, and so sweet the 
 evening whistle of the blackbirds in the orchard, 
 that the Londoner might well be excused his excla- 
 mation, (Avhen at length they rested themselves on 
 a rural seat, among the natural rock-work surround- 
 ing which, his companion cultivated a considerable
 
 THE IXUNDATION. 103 
 
 variety of ferns and trailing-plants, oversliacled 
 high overhead by a jutting ledge of rock, known to 
 all the country round by the name of St. Bee's 
 Pulpit.) that '•' he could be content to live and 
 die in Dudbourne Dale !" — 
 
 It was a comfort to ])oth, when, more than an 
 hour afterwai'ds, they were joined by the farmer, to 
 perceive that his eyelids were a little red, and that 
 his deportment was softened into a gentleness 
 foreign to his habits. — 
 
 It was clear that, as regarded the maiTi'age 
 between John Atfield and Rose Hurstwell, he was 
 not likely to forbid tne banns ! —
 
 104 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CoNSiDERiXG tluit IMark Eglfy liiul such pleasant 
 news to carry back to his friend as that his father 
 consented to his marriage and trusted that he and 
 his bride wouhl come and spend their Christinas 
 with him at Dudbourne Dale, — it was singuhir how 
 little eagerness he showed to make the best of liis 
 way to town ! — 
 
 Though, on his arrival, he had announced tliat 
 the business of the firm allowed h'un only a week's 
 absence, he had already, by three daj's, exceeded 
 tlie time allowed him : — and yet he lingered I — It 
 is true that, on accompanying Farmer Atfield to 
 Duddonstone, on the second day of his visit, he 
 was seen to drop a letter into the box, which perhaps 
 served the double purpose of apprising poor John 
 of the success of his expedition, and requesting an
 
 THE INUNDATION. ] 05 
 
 extension of liis furlough : a despatch from his 
 grandfather to old Atfield being at the same mo- 
 ment placed in the hands of his venerable friend, 
 to bespeak, though somewhat tardily, hospitality for 
 the traveller. — 
 
 At all events, the hospitality was so cordially 
 accorded, that Avhen, day after day, the young 
 Londoner made it his business to find out that the 
 neighbourhood still contained some interesting an- 
 tiquity, or scene to explore, as an excuse for a 
 saunter with Priscilla or a stout trudge with her 
 father, no one found tiie least fault Avitli his defer- 
 ring his departure ; — unless, indeed, it were old 
 Ruth, — a grumbler by vocation, — wlio began to 
 fear that her master was about to ruin himself by a 
 succession of lord-mayor's feasts, and exhaust her 
 own health and patience in preparing them. 
 — But even if of opinion, about an hour before 
 dinner-time every day, that the young gentleman, 
 so choice in his eatin"; and who fraxe as much 
 trouble as a lord, would be quite as well back at 
 Milbank, no sc-oner was the banquet served, and
 
 lOG THE INUNDATION. 
 
 her neat kitchen cleared again, than she was ready 
 to confess, tiiat "a Loon'oner '' \vho could talk to 
 them of the doings of blaster Johnny, could not be 
 too daintily provided foi\ — 
 
 Not that j\Iark remained altogether an idle 
 lounger — a mere obstruction to the routine of the 
 house. — After contenting himself, at first, with ad- 
 miring the trimness of Priscilhi's flower-garden 
 and the beauty of her rock-work, he ejulcd \\ ith 
 asking permission to assist in her tasks of weeding, 
 or tying up and watering her plants in the cool of 
 the evening ; and, when the permission was refused, 
 working for her in spite of herself : — while, to her 
 father, he recommended himself by accompanying 
 him on his daily rounds of the pastui'cs ; till he 
 came to know the cattle by sight, and could enlarge 
 upon their beauties, and tell the names of the differ- 
 ent breeds and owners. 
 
 Once, indeed, during the week which he managed 
 to spend under the roof he had at first sight pre- 
 sumed to call "a cavern," Mark and Pricilla strolled 
 again towards the sea-shore. — But as Farmer Atfield
 
 THE INUNDATION'. 107 
 
 was of tlie party, and the Churcliwarden's ani- 
 mosities against the lighthouse, though kept to him- 
 self, Tvere unabated, — on emerging from the valley 
 they turned southernward towards the sands ; and 
 the name of the oifending Master Francis had no 
 mention. — Prissy did not so much as cast a wistful 
 glance towards the spot where the tower stood 
 proudly predominant over the cliifs ; seeing that she 
 had that morning received from Job the pleasant 
 intelligence, that the kid was, to use the terms of a 
 court circular, "so v^'ell that no furtlier bulletin 
 would be issued ;" and despatched back in return 
 to the recluse, with a message of gratulation, a bunch 
 of her best moss-roses, — a treasure such as his 
 bleak enclosure was never likely to afford. — 
 
 She had no fear therefore, that, if liis telescope 
 chanced to betray her and her companions as 
 wandering on the sea-shore within reach of his 
 premises, he would consider her unkind, or un- 
 grateful, in neglecting a second visit ; and there 
 was consequently no di-awback on the joy with 
 which the happy girl fulfilled the duties of liospi-
 
 108 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 tality towards lier brother's frieiul, — tliat friend 
 being a companion more congenial witli lier habits 
 any luiman being ^vithin five parishes round 
 about. — 
 
 It is true that, in the luid^t of those lialcvoii 
 summer days, when all was so sweet and calm on 
 earth and sea, under their thatched roof and the 
 firmament by whieli it was overliung, there glanced 
 sometimes into her lieart a pang of vexation, when 
 she found how poor were tlieir best accommodations 
 compared with those to which their guest was 
 accustomed. — Not that lie was low-minded enougli 
 to boast of the comforts of liis London life. — But in 
 reply to Farmer Atfield's circumstantial question- 
 ing concerning the habits of his old friend, tl:e 
 prosperity of tlic firm, and the ])rospects of his son, 
 it was impossible to deny that, for some years past, 
 Mr. Egley liad accommodated liis modes of life to 
 the profits of his Inisiness ; of wliicli his own share 
 amounted tomucli above a tliousand a year. — There 
 was an elder partner, indeed, whose gains doubled 
 those of tlie able mechanic who had brought only
 
 THE INUNDATION. 109 
 
 industry and intelligence, instead of money, to invest 
 in the firm. — 
 
 " But Harmer is an old baclielor," added INIark, 
 laughing, " avIio, if he take the lion's share out of 
 the tiil, has all but promised tliat, at his death, it 
 shall return to us again. Ilis residence adjoins the 
 foundry ; which he calls his child and cares for 
 little but the prosperity and aggrandizement of 
 Harmer, Egley, and Co. I am persuaded he feels 
 prouder while reading those names engraved on 
 some noble engine ordered for foreign expor- 
 tation, than a lord on reading his in the peer- 
 
 " My brother's letters often speak of Mr. Ilar- 
 mer's kindness,'' observed Priscilla. 
 
 " Between ourselves, 'tis a hard-run race which 
 of us shall stand best witli the old fellow ! — Each 
 intends to be his heir; — and, to do him justice, at 
 present his affections are divided pretty impartially 
 between us. — I'm only afraid," continued he, laugh- 
 ing, " that Johnny, with a wife and family, Avill get 
 the start of me in his favour. — Johnny will be for
 
 110 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 christening his ehlcst hopeful, ' Hiirmer Atfiekl,' and 
 so cutting me out." — 
 
 The fiirmer would have retorted, " Get a wife of 
 your own, then, lad ! and be even with him ! " had 
 not his pretty daugliter been making tea for them 
 at that moment, under the shade of his favourite 
 lime-tree ; and, more especially, had not a word or 
 two in the letter of his old friend James Eirlev, 
 hinted that a choice was already made for his 
 grandson. — 
 
 " I 'm afraid I must admit,' continued Mark, 
 " that Johnny is more deserving than myself of the 
 old man's favour. Were he to leave his money to 
 me, other names than those of Ilarmer, Egley, & Co. 
 would have to be engraved on all future ensjines 
 turned out of the foundry. The very next day, 
 I would say * good-bye Milbank ! ' and cut the 
 concern. — 3fi/ nature is not like the lark's, which, 
 soars singing into the skies, while its nest is in the 
 dirt ; — and to me the noise and smother of the river- 
 side are as overpowering as if I had always lived in 
 Dudbourne Dale. — Whereas John, like his master,
 
 THE INUNDATION. Ill 
 
 takes sucli pride in the credit of the house, that 
 I verily believe he would prefer being stifled in the 
 old shop, to living at his ease in the prettiest shoot- 
 ing-box in Surrey ! " 
 
 "Johnny is country -bred," said Priscilla, smiling ; 
 "and we are told that it is in the nature of man to 
 prefer change and novelty." — 
 
 "Nay, nay! In ivoman^s, — in woman's!" — 
 interrupted Mark. " I promise you, Miss Atfield, 
 that my notions of happiness are precisely what 
 they used to be when I was a schoolboy ; i. e., all 
 play and no work, — two or three thousand a year 
 chinking in my pockets, and a pretty wife and 
 loving children to help me spend it." — 
 
 " If them 's your notions, young gentleman," 
 interposed Farmer Atfield, gravely, — "it strikes 
 me you should ha' been born a prince o' the blood, 
 instead of a manoofact'rer's son." 
 
 "A prince of the blood? — Not I, if 'twere to be 
 had for asking for!" retorted the young man, 
 unabashed by the grave looks he had called forth. 
 " There 's nothing in what I 'm hankering after,
 
 113 THE TXUNDATION. 
 
 that I 'm not likely to enjoy before I 'm ten years 
 older! — Tiic only thing that makes me think of it 
 with a sigh i.s, tliut it will not be mine till I have 
 lost my kind, good grandfather ! " — 
 
 Old Atfield's reply was an involuntary glance at 
 the horsehair furniture of his only sitting-room, and 
 the walnut-presses which constituted its chief orna- 
 ment, plainly implying — " If I'd known you were 
 so dainty, 'twould have been long enough before 
 I invited you to share our rough household and 
 frugal fare." — Even Prissy was unable to repress 
 a sigh as she thought of the poor figure they must 
 cut in the eyes of a guest so fastidious ; and half 
 repented the earnestness with which she had more 
 than once pressed hira to prolong his visit. — 
 
 The time was come, however, when further delay 
 was out of the question. All the persuasions in 
 the world, — scarcely even the tears that trembled 
 in the dark-gray eyes of Priscilla when he spoke of 
 departure, — could blind him to the necessity of 
 being in town on the first of August ; to enter in the 
 books of the firm the settlements he had recently
 
 THE INUNDATION. 113 
 
 made at Manchester and Liverpool, and instruct his 
 friend Johnny concerning the orders he had received. 
 He was to ride over Whitbeck to Duddon Bridge 
 with the farmer, (his portmanteau being previously 
 despatched from Duddonstone by the carrier's cart,) 
 make the best of hin way by the day-coach to Lan- 
 caster, and thence in all haste to town. 
 
 The previous evening had been more silent than 
 usual. — The farmer, preparing for a day's absence 
 from home, was in the valley with his cow-boys ; — 
 and, a sort of uneasy consciousness rendering it 
 painful to Priscilla to find herself tete-a-tete with 
 her depressed companion, she was the first to pro- 
 pose adjourning, for another half-hour, to the seat 
 luider the old lime-tree, which was embalming the 
 quiet twilight with its fragrance. — The evening 
 star trembled over their heads, in unison with the 
 emotion of hearts that were flattering they knew 
 not wliy — or rather knew too well ! — Still, nothing 
 was said that could lay bare to either the struggling 
 feelings of the otlier. — If, in alluding to the happy 
 fortunes of John Atfield and Rose Hurstwell, their
 
 114 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 voices faltereJ, no one liad a right to say, (if a "one" 
 of any kind had been within liearing,) that their 
 bosoms were moved by any otlier sympatliy than 
 that of a sister and a friend. — 
 
 Still less the ground for saucy comments on the 
 manner of their final f\irewell ! — Priscilla appeared 
 twice as anxious that her father should be in time 
 for his dinner at Duddon Bridge, as that Mark 
 should not miss the coach ; and though, just before 
 the latter jumped upon the broAvn mare, (which had 
 occasionally had the honour of carrying Priscilla,) 
 he asked her for a sprig of the jessamine which 
 covered the porch under which they were standing, 
 and instead of placing it in his buttonhole, as she 
 expected, caused it to disappear, perliaps, into tlie 
 pocket of his waistcoat, but wholly out of sight, the 
 young man's vow that, till they met again, that 
 flower should be treasured next his heart, was 
 silently recorded. — 
 
 "Gone!" murmured poor Priscilla, as she folded 
 her hands over the gate from which, after watching 
 their departure, she strained her eyes to see them
 
 THE INUNDATION. 115 
 
 •wind their way along the Dale,— "gone, — and 
 likely enough we may never meet again ! — What 
 a dream has it all been, — hoAV bewildering, — and 
 how pleasant! — How little I thought, when my 
 brother's letters talked so much of his attachment 
 to the madcap friend who caused him such anxious 
 hours, that the same Mark Egley Avould ever be the 
 cause of anxious hours to myself!" — 
 
 As she slowly took her way back to the house, 
 she dreaded to encounter the coarse grumblings of 
 Ruth, concerning the trouble and waste occasioned 
 by the prolonged sojourn of such a guest. — Yet ic 
 was almost a greater evil when, instead of finding 
 cause for complaint, the old woman, (whom the 
 Londoner's liberality at parting had converted into 
 the most obsequious of his partisans,) burst out into 
 exaggerated encomiums ; wishing herself and her 
 young mistress no worse luck than that " the braw 
 yoong mon who behaved like a prince, but was as 
 simple to deal wi' as the poorest dalesman 'twixt 
 that and "Whitbeck, might coom back and court her 
 for a woife." — 
 
 i2
 
 IIG TilE INLNDATIOX. 
 
 To put a stop to llutli's aspirations in her favour, 
 Priocilla apprised her that, about Ciiristnias time, 
 her favourite, jNIaster Joluiny, was likely to visit 
 them -with a bride: — an aniiouneement wliieh threw 
 the old creature into a state of wonderment and 
 joy, under cover of which, Priscilla retreated to her 
 own room for the indulgence of her regrets. If 
 ni"ht had not set in before her father returned 
 from his expedition, he could scarcely have failed 
 to notice the embarrassment of her manner, or the 
 unwonted paleness of her cheeks. 
 
 But though a fond father, old Atfield was neither 
 observant nor communicative. lie was, moreover, 
 the last man on earth to fancy it more necessary 
 than usual to converse with his little daughter, lest 
 she might feel the loss of her agreeable companion. 
 On the contrary, he congratulated her on the mor- 
 row, that all her trouble and fuss, her housewifery 
 and lionizing, were at an end. 
 
 " For in course, my dear," said he, " you, whc 
 never so much as looked upon James Egley's face, 
 couldn't be expected to take as I did to his grand-
 
 THE INUXDATION. 117 
 
 son. And I'm beholden to you, Prissy, for the 
 kind manner in which you've guv' up your time 
 to this young man ; part for your brother's sake, 
 no doubt, and part for mine." — 
 
 Happy was it for his daughter, that the business 
 which a week's lioliday-making had heaped upon 
 his shouklers, left him no leisure for noting her 
 unusual absence of mind, arising from a niultitude 
 of new impressions derived from INInrk Egley's 
 conversation. — Persons, things, and opinions, of 
 which she had never heard before, were beginning 
 to stand out like distinct images in her mind ; and 
 the London he described, at once so glibly and so 
 graphically, — the London of spirit, enterprise, 
 luxury, and ease, — assumed but too alluring a 
 charm, compared with the lonesome valley where 
 not a sound responded to the cry of her young 
 heart but the ripple of the Diidbonrnc, the lownng 
 of tlie cattle, and tlie cawing of the rooks. 
 
 Even after his business was set in order again, 
 Lis churchwarden squabbles made smooth, and his 
 few fields of corn near Duddonstone reaped and
 
 118 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 brought home, ohi AtfieUl was concocting projects 
 which diverted liis attention wholly from Priscilla. 
 
 "I've been thinking of a many things sin' that 
 young chap let fall how his grandfather was minded 
 that if ever 'twere time to enjoy the Avealth of his 
 'arning, 'twas now that his head was gra}-, and his 
 sands iiigli run out," — observed the farmer to his 
 daughter, as they sat together at tea, near the same 
 open window, overlooking the same flower-garden, 
 "vvhich looked so different since Mark had abided 
 there, and abided there no more. — " There's no 
 more reason why, sin' 'tis my choice to live and 
 die here in Dudbourne Dale, I shouldn't try to 
 make things as comfortable about me as my means 
 will make 'em, than for my friend Jem Egley to 
 enjoy his fine Lon'on house and furnitur'." — 
 
 "I was in hopes you ?t'e?'e' comfortable, dear 
 father ! '' was Priscilla's anxious reply. — 
 
 " Aj'', comfortable enough and to spare, for a bag 
 of old cramped-up bones like mine !" was his laugh- 
 ing rejoinder. — "But you see, lass, your brother's 
 for stretching the bounds o' the familv. — And when
 
 THE INUNDATION. 119 
 
 I told young Egley I hoped Jolinnj 'u'd bring 
 home his bride to spend Christmas among his own 
 people, 'twas 'cause I'd made up my mind to guv' 
 him a home he'd ha' no need to be ashamed on." — 
 
 " Going to quit the Dale ?" — cried Priscilla, 
 with sudden dismay, — for tlie surrounding scenery 
 had attained a double charm in her eyes from 
 recent associations. — 
 
 *' Not I, — not I ! — When I quit it 'twill be for 
 an easy journey to Dudd'nst'n kirk-yard ! " — re- 
 joined her father, — "But I've been spending the 
 last two days in talking o' matters Avi" Maister 
 Airey the mason, who 's undertook to build me 
 a couple o' rooms 'joining the house, Avhere the 
 lean-to now stands, and a couple o' bedchambers 
 over 'em, breaking doors from the staircase. — All's 
 to be finished by the end o' September, so as by 
 Christmas time they '11 be papered and fur- 
 nished !'' — 
 
 What joyful news ! — Two bedchambers to be 
 added to their already sufficient homestead, showed 
 that her father was indeed " on hospitable thoughts
 
 120 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 intent ;" and that Lis invitation to ^lark to accom- 
 pany the young couple, us bridesman, Avas not a 
 mere empty compliment. — 
 
 *'You maybe sure I didn't clench my bai-gain 
 with neighbour Airey," resumed her father — " till 
 I'd looked in at the Duddon-Bridge Savings' Bank, 
 and made out -what's lying at interest, — 'yond the 
 sum set apart fur your portion, Priss, in case any 
 honest young fellow hereabouts should ask you 
 to be liis wife." — 
 
 Priscilla of course interrupted him with the 
 declaration incumbent on young ladles so apostro- 
 phized, — that " nothing Avould induce her to 
 marry, so lung as she could enjoy a happy home 
 with so kind a father." 
 
 " The more reason, then, we should do our best 
 to gi' ye a little elbow-room ! " retorted the old man, 
 •who saw only what was natural ni tlie resolution. 
 — " So as I was saying, Neighbour Airey and I 
 took a pint together this afternoon, on the bargain ; 
 and to-morrow the workmen are to be here.' — 
 
 A grand event in the dale, — fur half a dozen
 
 THE INUNDATION. 121 
 
 carpenters and masons, Avith a couple of cart- 
 fuls of building-materials, to be seen jogging to 
 Farmer Atfield's premises : and -wild were the 
 speculations in Duddonstone to Avhicli it gave rise. 
 — For, though he had purchased some thirty acres 
 of the township, and had a long lease of the pas- 
 turage of Dudbourne Dale, the tenements hitherto 
 erected on the property were of so slight a nature, 
 tliat every one had been prepared to see him desert 
 the spot and return to his old quarters, as soon as 
 his daughter arrived at woman's estate. — But that 
 he should build a new h.ouse there, or, as the gossips 
 would have it, a " royil palice," was so out of their 
 calculation, that no wonder some should say he had 
 found a crock of gold ; others, that the handsome 
 young gentleman who had accompanied him aiul 
 his daughter to church, two Sundays before, was a 
 great lord in disguise, come to create John Atfield 
 a barrownight, marry his daughter, and convert his 
 tumble-down farm into what the advertisements 
 call a spacious modern residence. — 
 
 Had the arrival of tlie workmen been connected
 
 122 THE INUNDATIOX. 
 
 •with any faniilj event of less importance than her 
 brother's marriage, Priscilla could not but liave 
 grieved a little at seeing her beds of choice anemones 
 trodden over, and the musk-roses she had trained 
 over the frontage of the old house torn down, to 
 make way for scaffold - poles and mortar -heaps. 
 Before a couple of days were at an end, the thriving 
 little flower-garden was a waste ; while old Ruth, 
 indignant at not having been consulted about the 
 necessity for all this trouble and outlay, began to 
 mutter between the few teeth whicli time had left 
 her, tliat " some folks was getting too uppish, and 
 that pride would have a fall." — 
 
 She even ventured a hint that since four rooms 
 ■were about to increase the liard work of the house 
 they might look elsewhere for a bondswoman. — For 
 the fiirmer had not yet confided to his daughter that 
 he intended to extend liis liouseliold as well as his 
 house ; and there "was consequently some pretext 
 for the grumblings with Avhich, every evening, old 
 Ruth surveyed the dust and rubbish encumbering 
 the place. Even Crony went sulking about the
 
 THE IXUXDATION. 123 
 
 premises; — having no longer wherewitlial to lay liis 
 head, now' that a couple of ladders and a heap 
 of stones had usurped his customary place in the 
 morning sun. — The only person perfectly content, 
 was the farmer — Except when vestry business 
 carried him from home, seldom was he now seen 
 stopping for a bit of chat in the market-place of 
 Duddonstone, or chaffering with the Northern 
 drovers in the tap of the Nag's Head. — "When not 
 peremptorily occupied by his farm, he would 
 stand liour after hour, with his Iiands in the 
 pockets of his fustian -jacket, Avatching the progress 
 of the masons, and listening to the chipping of 
 their trowels, as though there were music in the 
 sound. No salaried clerk of the works could have 
 had his eye more constantly on the alert. 
 
 On the fine October day on which he beheld the 
 new building roofed in, neatly slated, and standing 
 in square and trimly regularity, detached from the 
 cliffs and the humble domicile thereunto abuttinar 
 (so much more pictm-esque than commodious,) the 
 happy man gave a supper to the workmen, at
 
 124 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 whicli, more ale and cider was wasted in healths 
 to the prosperity of his roof-tree, than had ever 
 before endangered the sobriety of a Churchwardea 
 of Duddonstone.
 
 125 
 
 CIIArXER YI. 
 
 The letters that reached Dudbourne Dale from 
 London, meanwhile, were all that the fondest 
 wishes of Priscilla could desire. — Her brother was 
 the happiest, — his friend the ?««happiest of men ! — 
 In addition to the grateful and respectful letter 
 in which John Atfield acknowledged the acquies- 
 cence of his father, Rose Hurstwell replied, at 
 some length, to the friendly little note from Prissy 
 of which ]\Iark Egley was the bearer ; and a sistoi-ly 
 correspondence was instantly established between 
 the two girls. That it might interfere as little as 
 possible with his duties to the firm,, young Atfield's 
 marriage was to take place in December, that his 
 Christmas holidays might suflice for a honeymoon ; 
 and though his sister was faithful to the promise 
 exa'^ted by her father, that she would not afford the
 
 126 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 slightest liint of the projiiirations making fui* Lis 
 reception, or in any way allude to the growing 
 splendours of tlieir abode, there existed no obstacle 
 to her avowal of the eagerness with which slie was 
 looking forward to the winter, or the joy she an- 
 ticipated in making acquaintance with her new 
 sister. — 
 
 In her letters to Rose and the bridegroom-expec- 
 tant, she managed, of course, to slip a message, or 
 P.S., addressed to INIark. — It was only natural to 
 say — " Let your friend ]\Ir. Egley know that the 
 patch of bell-heather he took such pains to trans- 
 plant to my rock-work, is flourishing ; and that I 
 hope, some day or other, to sliow it him." — Or, 
 *' Tell Mr. Egley, that if he sliould ever visit this 
 out-of-the-way place again, he A\ill iitid I have care- 
 fully arranged the shells we collected the day of our 
 expedition to the AYardern rocks ; — and that the 
 poor little animal whose leg was broken by Crony, 
 is quite well again. — Hut assure him I shall not 
 think of venturing a second time to the lighthouse, 
 unless he should be disposed to accompany you
 
 THE INUNDATION. 137 
 
 here at Christmas?, and renew his flirtation with 
 Lame Moggy." — 
 
 Such messages naturally produced rejoinders : of 
 a nature equally insipid to the uninitiated, and 
 equally charming to the young couple ; who, as they 
 had met in a Cumbrian dale instead of at a Veron- 
 ese palace, could not be expected to express their 
 sentiments in the impassioned phrase of Shakspere's 
 immortal lovers. — By degrees, the correspondence 
 that passed between Rose Hurstwell and Priscilla, 
 might just as well have passed between Priscilla 
 and Mark, for anything it contained not absolutely 
 relating to the interests and feelings of those who 
 had invaded the domain of Master Francis ; and if 
 old Egley had really matrimonial views for his 
 grandson, or the farmer for his daughter, they were 
 inexcusable for not perceiving how brilliant a bloom 
 suffused the face of the latter Avhenever a letter 
 arrived from IMilbank ; or with how much warmer 
 an interest Mark was beginning to regard his kins- 
 woman, now that she was about to enter the Atfield 
 family, than when, in the bloom of her girlish
 
 128 THE IXUXDATIOX. 
 
 beauty, a very short coui'tship might have sufficed 
 to make her his own. — 
 
 Not, however, that their characters were as well 
 assimilated for holy matrimony as those of Rose and 
 John Atfield. 
 
 " If I and my cousin I\Iark had come together," 
 Rose IliirstweU would sometimes sav, in answer to 
 her lover's anxieties lest his quiet disposition and 
 reserved manners should render her less happy than 
 she deserved, — " it woidd have been like tlic col- 
 lision of two grains of gunpowder : the first spark 
 must have produced a frightful concussion." — 
 
 "Wliereas, with me,'' pleaded John, "you feel so 
 certain of having your own way, that even my 
 poverty and homeliness, thrown into the scale, did 
 not decide you against me ! " — 
 
 The light-hearted Rose laughed too heartily at 
 finding herself accused of a disposition to tyranny, 
 to look like a very alarming despot. — 
 
 " Whatever faults I may have," was her frank 
 reply, "will soon be corrected at Dudbourne Dale. 
 If I am to believe half 1 hear from mv cousin
 
 THE IXUXUATIO.V. 129 
 
 Mark, tliough you slioukl happen to prove an 
 indifferent Iiusband, I am sccui'e of the most per- 
 fect sister-in-hvw in the workl ! " 
 
 It was nnnecessarj' furtlier to exphiin how many 
 times in the course of the day her cousin IMark 
 advei'ted to his visit to Dudbourne Dale ; and in- 
 didged in hopes of obtaining leave of absence to 
 accompany her on her bridal expedition. 
 
 Whenever, from the cheerfid balcony of his 
 uncle's house, tliey witnessed some boat -race, or 
 the animated aspect which even a fine Sundav 
 imparts to the gay surface of the Tliames, he was 
 sure to indulge in exclamations of — " If Priscilhi 
 were only here ! — How tliis mighty stream, — how 
 these multitudes of people, v^'ould surprise and de- 
 light her ! — But you must bring her back with you, 
 Rose, or, at least, persuade your father-in-law to 
 promise you a visit in the spring. — That chai-ming 
 girl must not be shut up for life among the cattle 
 and frogs of Dudbourne Dale." 
 
 His cousin was perhaps more in his gi'andfather's 
 confidence than himself, on the subject of such a 
 
 K
 
 130 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 visit. For she was often admitted to private con- 
 ferences -with Mi: Egley, after Lis daily business 
 ■vvas over, in wliicli the name of Atfield liad more 
 frequent mention than could bear reference ex- 
 clusively to Johnny. From the time, indeed, that the 
 old man had obtained a solid standing in the world, 
 his first thought, after the happy establishment of 
 his son, was to promote the advancement of the 
 children of the friend of his early youth ; and most 
 of those connected with his business believed that 
 young Atfield was destined to become a future 
 partner in the firm : his steadiness and intelligence 
 promising more for its prosperity, than the careless 
 habits of the pleasure-loving ]\Iark. — 
 
 " At all events, I must have my grandson work 
 'till he's thirty," old Egley had been heard to say, in 
 moments of unreserve, "if only to keep him out of 
 mischief, and teach him the value of money. After 
 that, — let him do as he will ! — I've been too hard- 
 working a man in my day, to leave much to do for 
 those that come after me, except to hang their hats 
 vi> in the hall; — and I'm not one of those (God
 
 THE IXrXD.VTIOX. 131 
 
 forbid I ), "who think there 's nothing worth caring 
 for in life beyond a good bahince at tlie tail of one's 
 banker's book, or piles of gold in the safe." — 
 
 So far from feeling surprised that Farmer Attield 
 was beginning to place his establishment on a more 
 comfortable footing, the millwright would have 
 been, on tlie contrary, amazed to learn that the old 
 man's amended fortunes had not, long ago, deter- 
 mined him to a better style of living, had his grand- 
 son been able to talk on his return to town of any- 
 thing but the gray eyes of Priscilla, or the pictur- 
 esque valley of the Dudbourne. — Finding Mark in 
 such ecstasy with his visit, Mr. Egley had reason 
 to suppose that his worthy friend was enjoying, with 
 deference to their several degrees of competence, 
 the same personal comforts as himself. 
 
 " No — I never saw the mother of John and Pris- 
 cilla," said he, one day, in answer to the three 
 hundredth question his grandson had asked him, 
 that morning, in reference to the Atfield family. — 
 " During the four years she survived her marriage, 
 my friend Jacob talked sometimes of bringing her 
 
 k2
 
 132 THE INUNDATIOX. 
 
 to town to see me ; but oftener of getting me down 
 into tlic country, for a peep at liis wife and b:ibe.s. 
 — But Mrs. Atfield fell ill innnediatelj after tlie 
 birth of the girl ; — and visits in the house of sick- 
 ness alFord more }Ktin than ph'asure." — 
 
 " Tell the truth, sir, — and own j-ou found it as 
 liard a matter then as you do now, to uproot your- 
 self from house and home ! " retorted Mark. " You 
 don't like sleejiing in strange beds, — you don't 
 like missing your morning paper damp from the 
 press." — 
 
 " Don't say tluit, jNIark ! " cried the old man. 
 " It has more than once crossed my mind to go 
 down wedding-keejiing, next winter, to Dudbourno 
 Dale. Jacob Atfield has asked me, you know : 
 and it strikes me that we're both of us too near the 
 brink of the grave for the word ' nay ' to pass be- 
 tween us." — 
 
 '• In my opinion, 'twould be a sin and shame to 
 disappoint the poor old man !" — cried !Mark. — 
 
 " More particularly, " added his grandfather, 
 " oince now you 're grown so steady, my dear
 
 TUE INUNDATIOX, 133 
 
 grandson, I should 'nt be at all uneasy at leaving the 
 business in your hands for a week or so. And as 
 you've been so lately in the north," added he, care- 
 fully -watching the changes of his grandson's coun- 
 tenance, — "you, at all events, ■will be glad to be let 
 oiT a second country visit, at so dreary a season of 
 the year." — 
 
 At such a hint, the face of poor I\Iark grew 
 almost as long as that of INIaster Francis while 
 contemplating the bi'oken leg of his kid. — To 
 avoid the danger of having his grandfather form a 
 decided plan and fully explain it, he hastened back 
 to the early days of Farmer Atfield. — 
 
 " You talk of being on the brink of the grave, 
 my dear grandfather," said he ; " but, in spite of all 
 that is said of the unwholesomeness of a London 
 life, I promise you, you wear better than your 
 friend in the north ! " — 
 
 " And } et I am two years his senior," — cried 
 old Egley. — " It was for fighting his battles when 
 we worked our way, more than sixty years ago, 
 t^%:.u^li the grammar-school at Skipton, that Jacob
 
 134 THE INUNDATION'. 
 
 Atfiekl took such an afFcction for me as proved my 
 mnkin"- in life. — For he had tlie best of it then. 
 VvHien Ave came to man's estate, his father left him 
 a matter of fifteen hundred pounds ; wliereas, mine 
 v.'as not only still alive, but a poor mechanic ; 
 and -when I made up my mind to go to London, he 
 jMit a hundred-pound note into my hand, that I 
 niiglit article myself, as I had set my heart on 
 doing, to an engineer." — 
 
 But, as, his father was dead, and he loved you 
 so dearly, how came lie not to accompany you to 
 town ? " 
 
 "Because there were two people in Yoikslu're 
 whom Jacob loved better tlian me : — a brother, two 
 years older than himself, and a young girl, wlio had 
 promised to be his wife. — As long as I can re- 
 member, he'd decided for a farmer's life ; while his 
 brother stuck to tlieir father's business." 
 
 "And is the brotlier still alive?" — 
 
 " Most likely not. — If he hasn't come to the 
 gallows by this time, they have scarcely had their 
 due : •'—
 
 THE INUNDATIOX. 135 
 
 '•It -u-as to h'un tlien, perhaps, that the farmer 
 referred Avhen he spoke of having been a victim 
 aiul a dnpe? " — 
 
 "Probably! — But to me, from our boyhood 
 upward, Jacob has never once mentioned his name I 
 — All I know of what occurred between them, is 
 from others. — Frank Atfield, it seems, began to go 
 down in the world from the moment that, at his 
 father's death, he became his own master. But, 
 unliappily, when he found his factory on the verge 
 of bankruptcy, and ruin staring him in the face, he 
 had the art to wheedle out of Jacob the whole of 
 his little pati'imony I — To keep up a few months 
 longer the ball which he knew must fall at last, he 
 Hung away his brother's prospects in life ! " — 
 
 " He may have had hopes, like every other master 
 of a sinking concern, that the lamp only required 
 feeding for a time, to burn brigliter than ever. — He 
 perhaps lioped to repay the debt with interest" — 
 
 " He hoped no such thing ! — He knew that to 
 f.rward his foolish speculations, the factory wai 
 mortgaged over head and ears ! His sole object
 
 130 Tin: IXUXDATIOV. 
 
 was to delay for a sliovt time the crash wliicli was 
 to drive hiiu from the countrv, to enable him to 
 complete tlie seduction of hi.s brotlier'd betrothed 
 uife."— 
 
 " My dear grandfather, such turpitude cannot 
 exist in luuuau nature !" cried Mark ; " least of 
 all among simple-hearted country folks, like the 
 Atfields !"— 
 
 "Nevertheless, Avhcn Frank Atfield fled the 
 country, the girl my poor friend had been on tlie 
 eve of making his wife, was the companion of his 
 flight !"— 
 
 " The jade .'—The rascal !"— 
 
 "Taking with her the last guinea of the unhappy 
 man they had so cruelly deceived." — 
 
 "Knoutrli to make him throw himself head fore- 
 most into the llibble !" 
 
 " Enough to make yo^t. Master ]Mark, — who are 
 apt to follow the first impulse of your passions," 
 remonstrated the grandfather. "But Jacob Atfield 
 had in his nature the best qualities of a man ! 
 Jacob was pious, brave, trustfid. Instead of sink-
 
 THE IXUNDATIUX. 137 
 
 ing under the blow, he submitted himself to the 
 "will of Him who had given and taken away ; and 
 the first word I heard from him of his misfortunes, 
 was written from a distant part of the countrj', 
 acquainting me that having lost his all, he had 
 engaged himself as a day-labourer ; and meant to 
 live, and hoped to prosper, by the sweat of his bi'ow. 
 He thought himself a lucky man, he said, to have 
 escaped marriage Avith one so weak and wicked as 
 Mary Gray. As to his brother, he hoped God might 
 forgive him ; but as he never could, he begged me 
 to refrain from mentioning his name." — 
 
 " And do you mean, sir, that from this penniless 
 state. Fanner Atlield worked his way to his present 
 competence ?" — 
 
 " Why not ? — Since from a hundred pounds, 
 your grandfather Avorked his to an income of 
 eighteen hundred a year ? — It was not, however, 
 wholly by the labour of his hands he managed, five 
 years afterwards, to stock his farm. By that time, 
 I was enabled to pay him back, with interest, the 
 sum wliicli, on starting in life, was a free gift : and
 
 138 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 thus, God be praised, we liave been able by mutual 
 assistance to conduce to each other's advancement 
 in life."— 
 
 " The first obligation, however was conferred 
 upon yourself." — 
 
 " Who denies it, ]Mark ? — or ratlier, who can be 
 more sensible of it than I am ^" rejoined his grand- 
 father. — "What other consideration do you suppose 
 induced me to undertake the education and charge 
 of John Atfield, as thouu;h a jrrandson of mv 
 own ? — No, no ! — Jacob and I liave been as one 
 flesh from tlie day we took tlie same hornbook in 
 hand ; — and brotliers I trust we shall remain, till 
 together we render our great account." — 
 
 "Just as between John and myself!" — rejoined 
 his grandson. — "I don't remember liaving enjoyed a 
 pleasanter surprise than the discovery that Johnny 
 had taken a fancy to my cousin Rose ; and that we 
 were likely to become relations. And if I can only 
 prevail upon you, sir, to accompany tlie bride and 
 groom at Christmas to Dudbourne Dale, for a visit 
 I to your old friend, I think I can promise — that is 1
 
 Tim INU.VDATIOX. 139 
 
 almost venture to hope — or, to speak more plainly, 
 I am certain j-ou would feel disposed to — to — " 
 
 " To ^chat, jSIark ?" demanded liis grandfiither, 
 bringing to a point the stammering of the young 
 man, who was little in the habit of finding shyness 
 r.n obstacle to his fluency. 
 
 " To oil ! nothing — nothing particular, sir. 
 
 — I only meant that 3'ou could not fail to be over- 
 joyed at witnessing the prosperity and domestic 
 happiness of Johnny's father." — 
 
 " And of Priscilla^s father !" almost rose to old 
 Egley's lips. — But he was too well pleased to see 
 that his lonjr-standin2r interdiction against hearing 
 the words "love " or " matrimony " from the lips 
 of his grandson, till he attained his five -and - 
 twentieth year, maintained a sufficient influence over 
 the young man's inclinations to keep his secret, for 
 the present, seething and fermenting in a heart 
 which, now that absence had fanned the flame of 
 its passion, could dream of nothing but Dudbourne 
 Dale.— 
 
 But that he found so ready an auditress in Rose
 
 140 Tin; I.M.NDATIOX. 
 
 llurstwell fur his bur.-t.s of cntliuslasin concerning 
 lilt; liigli (jualities of the AtficUIs,. — tlieir probity, 
 tlieir steadines.-:, iiidiistiv, f'rii^ralitv, and iisefidncss 
 of life, — he wouhl liave scarcely been able to control 
 liis desire of confessing all to his grandfather, and 
 imploring liini to set aside any ni;itriinonial pro- 
 jects he niiglit have formed on his account, in 
 luvonr of one whose life was as pure as an angel's 
 and whose face as fair. — But Rose listened to him — 
 Rose comforted him. Rose, like irunself, lived upon 
 hope. — As a bee provides future sustenance from 
 the loveliest objects in nature, her pleasant time 
 was spent in collecting materials for her future 
 household, while listening to praises of her dear 
 Johnny ; which, for gratitude's sake, Mark Eglej 
 could not confine cxclusivelv to Priscilla. — 
 
 ]joth of them had need, just then, of all the 
 sunshine inherent in their nature. For there was 
 none without. — It was one of those dreary autumns 
 when October contrives to look as like November 
 as some plain, morose girl aping the gravity of an 
 elder sister. — Every day, rain, — every night, fog ! —
 
 THE IXUNDATIOX. 141 
 
 The Thames, so ready to reflect upon its -waters the 
 faintest smile beaming upon them from the face of 
 nature, ran chill, and dull, and leaden-looking in its 
 oozj bed. No cliange, — excepting -when some 
 harder day's rain than ordinary rendered the turbid 
 river still more opaque. The barges went sullenly 
 and sluggishly along ; the steamers plied their 
 paddles -with scarce a passenger on deck ; — and 
 every pleasure-craft was laid up for the season. — 
 Poor Mark, who, like most young men living on 
 the banks of the river, found his chief recreation 
 in boatinir, seemed almost to have forirotten that 
 there existed such places as Richmond, or Green- 
 wich ; — having said farewell to his "trim -built 
 wherry " a month before the usual time. — 
 
 Every body agreed that tliey were paying heavily, 
 in so rainy an autumn, fur the fine summer they 
 had been enjoying. — Apothecaries hurried about 
 from house to house, like a flight of crows when 
 there is a death-taint on the air; pronouncing, in so 
 lugubrious a tone, that it was '-'a sickly season," as 
 to create among their old and iiiflrm patient^ a
 
 142 THE IXUNDATIOX. 
 
 panic capable of generating an epidemic. — It was 
 whispered that typhus liad bi'oken out in tlie Mil- 
 bank Penitentiary ; that tlie fever-hospitals had not 
 a bed vacant ; that tlie o\er-popuhited districts in 
 the lower part of Westminster — a disgrace to the 
 curators of the public healtli — were becoming 
 cleared by a frightful mortality. — 
 
 With the best inclination to disbelieve these evil 
 rumours, the state of the weatlier Avas only too 
 sadly confirmative. — Instead of the brisk airs sent 
 before it by the appi'oach of winter, as military 
 music announces some coming brigade, the atmos- 
 pliei'c hung heavy and clammy upon the housetops ; 
 and even during the intervals of rain, sufficed to 
 moisten tlie pavement. — If a breath of air stole 
 througli an open window, instead of whisking 
 through the house, it proved of so languid and 
 unwholesome a nature, as to sink exhausted in the 
 nearest corner. — The very dust lay dead where 
 it was overlooked by the listless housewife. There 
 was not life enough in the stagnant atmosphere to 
 raise it from the ground ! —
 
 THE IXUXDATIOX. 143 
 
 Even the clieerfiilness of a house where a wed- 
 ding is in progress, could scarcely make liead 
 aarainst the dreariness certain to arise from such a 
 season. — Though little addicted to hypochondria- 
 cisra, even old Egley began to croak predictions of 
 rheumatics to himself, and endless privations to the 
 poor. But his grandson and John Atfield united 
 in efforts to dispel his fits of blue-devils ; and a 
 blazing fire, a sociable breakfast, and the re-assur- 
 ance conveyed by the first edition of the Times, 
 that though the climate might be poorl}', the money- 
 market Avas brisk and stirring, seldom failed to 
 cheer his spirits. — 
 
 " Old folks are so superstitious, Rose," observed 
 Mark to his cousin, " that you must be on your 
 auard airainst allowing my grandfather to take into 
 his head that the season is unpropitious. — Take 
 care that he does not fancy himself either sick or 
 sorry ; or we shall be having him unable to attend 
 to business. And then, what chance of a holiday 
 to Johnny and myself, for our exjiedition to Dud- 
 bourne Dale ? " —
 
 lU 
 
 CHAPTER YIL 
 
 But if John Atfield and liis friend Avere forced 
 to exert themselves to counteract the untoward 
 influence of the season, no such effort Avas requisite 
 on the part of Priscilla. — Though for every shower 
 that fell in London, in Cumberland there were ten, 
 the pre-occuj)ied mind of the fanner belield nothing 
 but perpetual sunshine. — His pride in his son, his 
 lave for the old friend who throuirh life had been 
 as svmpathetie with him as his right hand with his 
 lel't, endowed the coming Christmas witli such a 
 charm, that the establishment of workmen on his 
 premises, usually so great a nuisance to all sorts 
 and conditions of men, produced no annoyance to 
 old Atfiekh— 
 
 On the contrary, — the masons and slaters had 
 barely completed their work, before the plasterers
 
 THE INUNDATIOX. 
 
 145 
 
 and carpenters were intruduccLl : and tlie utmost 
 earnestness of his daughter could scarcely prevent 
 his bringing painters and paper-hangers into 
 request before the walls were either dry 02 
 settled. — 
 
 The Duddonstone neighbours, displeased at 
 Farmer bitfield's projecting such a palace without 
 consulting them, and p.-rhaps a little envious of his 
 means of can-yiiig his plans into effect, prophesied 
 of course that the walls would 7iei-ci- dry, and the 
 floors never settle ; — a building completed in so 
 rainy a season being as casual as if founded on 
 the sea-sand. — But, closely sheltered by the cliffs 
 from stress of weather, old Atfield's house had 
 come in for a far more moderate share of tli(3 recent 
 rains than Duddonstone Market-place ; and it Avas 
 only because the Dudbourne ran so swollen in its 
 channel, or rather so beyond its channel, that the 
 farmer was fully aware that his weather-glass, 
 which had stood three weeks at "much rain," had 
 fully established its veracity. — 
 
 Lest Priscilla should give too muck attention to 
 
 I.
 
 146 THE IXUNDATION. 
 
 his overliasty constnictioiis, lie was perpetually 
 reraiiuliiig lier tliat luucli preparation was essential 
 to hospitality on so large a seale as he contem- 
 plated ; since he intended to fea-t his IViends by 
 way of housewarniing, as well as to do honour to 
 the wedding of his son. — Their usual stores must 
 con'ioqnently be doubled. Though the capacious 
 kitclien-chimney was crowded with hams, though 
 throughout the Autumn, the finest fruit had been 
 carefully clarilicd into preserves, and though 
 Prissy herself had suggested a double stock of 
 potted -eharr from Duddon "Water, her father 
 was far from satisfied with their provisions. A 
 stirring and experimental young woman had been 
 engaged, to spare old Kutli all extra-work ; and, on 
 seeing a new oven add.'d to the kitchen, (which, 
 thanks to the present arrangements, was no longer 
 the entrance to the house,) the grumbling old woman 
 became convinced that tlie rumours of the neigh- 
 bourhood were correct, and that her master had 
 discovered a hidden treasure. — 
 
 Wliile Priscilla, in obedience to her father's com-
 
 THE IXUXDATIOX. 147 
 
 mands, was engaged in housewifery for tlie benefit 
 of their expected guests, tlie indignant Ruth kept 
 pouring into her ears the reports transmitted to lier 
 by Job the fisherman concerning their accession of 
 fortune, and the general opinion tliat so rash an 
 outhiy of it would never come to good. — 
 
 "Mark me if it do. Miss Atfield !"'— mumbled the 
 old woman ; and while Priscilla was tryiug to shake 
 off" the impression produced by liearing spoken at 
 random the word she was evermore murmuring in 
 the depths of her heart, there was no turning a 
 deaf ear to the fact recorded by Ruth, — that, ever 
 since the workmen planted the first scaffold-pole, a 
 screech-owl, (a rare bird in Dudbourne Dale,) had 
 stationed itself in or near the new premises ; start- 
 ling every night the inmates of the farn;; out of 
 their sleeji by its appalling cry. — Nay, though Jem 
 the cowboy had been allowed to discharge the 
 farmer's fowling-piece for some successive nights, 
 after dark, in the direction where it was supposed to 
 perch, the bird of night only shifted its place ; and 
 was heard uttering still more piercing shrieks from 
 
 1.2
 
 lis THE INUNDATION. 
 
 a tree in the orchard, to resume on the morrow its 
 ori<j;inal post. — 
 
 '• Oj, oy ! — doomb things ot''t see niair afoor 'cm 
 than the woisest Christians !"— cjacuhited liiith. 
 '• rhere 's Croony, — pair doog ! — it goes to ane's 
 heart joost ta see him spend the moorniiig i' dugg- 
 ing o' graves a' roon' t!ie hoose. — Lnik yersel', I\Ius3 
 Prussv, an' you 're dooting me! — Oonlv hiik 
 yersel." — 
 
 And though Priscilhi, with her accustomed 
 good-liumoured deference to tlic cross old creature, 
 stc])ped out in compliance witli her request, and per- 
 ceived that the lurcher liad really scratched up, in 
 four or five diilerent places near the house, large 
 apertures more than suiricient to admit his long 
 body, and consequently bearing considerable resem- 
 blanec to a grave, — it was useless to remind the 
 bigoted woman that Crony, lla^ ing been deprived by 
 the new buildings of" his favourite resting-place, was 
 naturally on the hjok-out for a new one ; and during 
 the iiiclcment weather, kept seeking ii comfortable 
 sIk.'Iii'i-.
 
 THE IXUXDATIOJJ. 149 
 
 " Nil, r.a ! I\Ius3 — people's na sae fur wrong ^lia 
 thinks ta pulr doog is makkin' loong-liames for tlio 
 Avliool' fomily !" cried Rath. And on this gloomv 
 text did slie preach, and preach ; assuring licr voung 
 mistress that the Nortliern lights had been observed 
 in the neighbourhood of Keswick, where they liad 
 never been seen before since the Rising, so disas- 
 trous to Cumberland, in '4o. — 
 
 "Don't hope to frighten me, Ruth !' was Pris- 
 cilla's undaunted reply. — " Wedlock, and not war, is 
 luckily just now our business, in Dudbourne Dale ; 
 and as the weather will be too cold for screech-owls 
 when Johnny and his wife make their appearance, 
 and Crony, poor fellow, will by that time have taken 
 up his station for the winter by th.e parlour-lire, 
 there will be an end, at least to two of your bad 
 omens !" — 
 
 "Him as sent them warnings. Muss, will na 
 doot find means to send mair !" — persisted the 
 obstinate Ruth. " Unless, indeed, his day o' 
 vengeance should be cooni, — and his joodgraents 
 overtak' us." —
 
 150 THE INUNDATIOX. 
 
 It was sometliinsi; that Miss Atfa-ld was able to 
 prevent the prophetess from communicating her evil 
 auguries to the farmer. — Not that they ^voukl have 
 had much eifect in damping his ehited spirits ; but 
 because indignaliou that any one shoukl presume to 
 hang up a black flagon the new house where he was 
 preparing to welcome his son, miglit have tempted 
 him into ejecting his old servant from his premises. 
 — "Whichever way he looked, he saw nothing but 
 prosperity ; and why should others be further- 
 siglitcd ? — 
 
 And j-et, — so little apt is human nature to gain 
 experience from tlie chastenings afforded for our 
 enlightenment, — it happened that, twice before in 
 his life, the farmer had fancied himself at the acme 
 of earthly felicity ; and both times, to be precipi- 
 tated prematurely to tlie depths of despair I — In 
 early youth, just when he had chosen his wife and 
 farm, surrounded by gratulating friends and sunny 
 prospects, and confiding in himself beyond what it is 
 permitted to frail mortals to confide, — the events of 
 an hour had blighted his golden harvest. — After
 
 THE IXUXDATIOX. 151 
 
 lying down to rest the happiest and hopefullest 
 of men, he had awoke into a world that afforded 
 no resting - place for the sole of his foot, — nor a 
 heart nor home he could call his own ! And when, 
 more than thirty years afterwards, having by dint 
 cf patient labour converted tliose thorns into vines, 
 and enabled himself to gather figs from thistles, — ■ 
 establisiied in a comfortable farm with an affec- 
 tionate helpmate and a fair child nestling on her 
 knee, — he pi-esumed to fancy that he had conquered 
 fate, and gave full loose to the exultation of his 
 soul, — the day tliat bi'ought little Priscilla to crown 
 his happiness, left behind it in liis house, as if for- 
 gotten, that fatal scythe, whicli, but a few months 
 afterwards, levelled his pride with the dust, and 
 left him the helpless father of two motherless 
 children. — 
 
 Since then, twenty years had elapsed. The sus- 
 taining hand of Providence had brouglit him once 
 more into paths of pleasantness and peace ; and he 
 was again presuming to lift up liis voice and say — 
 " Soul, take thine ease ! " — As if it were only to
 
 152 THE IXUMJATJOX. 
 
 take ease, lluit man avIio is born of woman is re- 
 quired to make the pilgrimage of tliis briary 
 world ! — 
 
 " Tell Iviith to be stirring by daylight to-morrow, 
 my dear," said the farmer, one night, as his daughter 
 was retiring to rest. — " The people will be he-re 
 betimes, from Dudd'nst'n, with the carpets to lay 
 down." — 
 
 " TUq carpets ? " cried Priscilla, aghast, — "with 
 the walls still so damp, that the bordering of the 
 newly - papered sitting-room is coming down 
 already ? "— 
 
 " You should have had a fire lighted there, my 
 dear ! " 
 
 " There has been one every day since the glaziers 
 put in the windows, father. Still, the mortar of 
 the new ceiling smells so damp !" — 
 
 " You should have opened the windows to- day. 
 — The air was dry, and there was a gleam of sun- 
 shine about noon." — 
 
 " The windows are kept open every day, father, 
 'till the evening dew begins to rise." —
 
 THE INUNDATION. 153 
 
 "Then what on the 'varsal earth, lass, Jire yr.n 
 feared on?"' cried he, a little impatiently. — "I 
 sometimes fancy. Pri.-s, from all tlie rumpus yoa 
 make about the danger o' hurrying the workmen, 
 that you're jealous o' the pains I'm taking to make 
 a comfortable liome for Johnny and his wife ! " — 
 
 " No, father I — I'm sure you don't think that," 
 rejoined his daughter. "I'm sure you caH''l think 
 such a thing ! " — ci'ied Priscilla, with rising indig- 
 nation. — 
 
 " Tlien don't keep grumbling about the danger a' 
 haste and hurry, to them as is quite as well able to 
 decide such matters as yourself. — Airey's foreman 
 tells me that the Dredswell Station 'us, — a palace 
 to look at, — Lowther Castle can scarce be grander, 
 — was begun, ended, and inhabited in three weeks ! 
 From the first stroke o' the trowel till the chimney 
 smoked, 'twas 'n't a calendar month ! " — 
 
 Such being her fatlier's persuasions, Priscilla 
 could only submit in silence ; more particularly 
 since, with the aid of constant fires, tlie new rooms 
 were literally in a habitable state. — Her own time,
 
 1j4 the ixuxdation. 
 
 too, Avas fully taken up in ri'sloring, with the aid of 
 tlic " bucolical ju venal," whose knock-knees "svere 
 not nlwaj-.s employed on the milking pail, the 
 gar(hjn, so sadly devastated by the masons. The 
 gravel-walk before the house had been turned and 
 raked into its pristine smoothness, — the box border 
 cai'efully renovated. — The winter aconites, and 
 early yellow amaiylliscs were budding. — l"5y the 
 time the working-gardener from Duddonstone, who 
 twice or thrice a month placed the borders in con- 
 dition, had done a few days' work with his spade 
 and j)runing-knife, all would be looking as a winter- 
 garden ought to look ; — the vegetable-beds fully 
 stocked, and the fruit-trees clear from moss. As 
 not a vestige of frost had appeared, the gorse and 
 heather were still not only green, but exhibited, 
 here and there, a straggling blossom ; — Avhile the 
 service and n)onntain-a-;h trees still mingled a few 
 scarlet berries with their decayed leaves. — 
 
 And yet, November was come and gone ! — Had 
 any one doubted it, the hoarse voice of the Dud- 
 bou.rno growling in the vallev, might have satisfied
 
 THE INUNDlTiOX. ]jJ 
 
 him thut winici- wa tliorouglily set in, and that tlie 
 protracted rains had swollen those uncertain waters 
 beyond all precedent. — The little stream might now 
 be called a torrent. — Masses of foam Avcre collected 
 in its windings, wherever some fragment of rock 
 opposed the force of the current ; — and the farmer, 
 though unobservant enough, in general, of the 
 beauties of nature, persuaded his daughter to equip 
 herself in her thickest shoes, and accompany him 
 so far as the fall called Duddon-Force, by which 
 the Dudbourne escaped from its mountain -lake ; 
 which, usually a clear and compact spring-let, fall- 
 ing from a height of about sixty feet, -was now a 
 roaring cataract, almost rivalling the impetuous fall 
 of Lodorc. — 
 
 " It is, indeed, a fine sight ! " exclaimed Priscilla, 
 — gazing Avith awe-struck eyes on the foam scattered 
 upon the withered fern by its ungovernable ardour. 
 " If dry weather should not intervene between 
 this and the 20tli, to lower the level of Duddon- 
 water, what a fine spectacle this will afford to the 
 Londoners ! " —
 
 156 TIIK INUXDATIOX. 
 
 And as they retraced tlicir way liomewartls lo« 
 v.'ards what had ah-eady acquired in tl:e ncighbour- 
 liond tlie name of the New House, there were 
 portions of the dale where the force of the current, 
 as it went eddying round fragments of rock, was 
 such as to dizzy tlie eye of the spectator. — 
 
 " Wlio would ever believe, father," said Priscilln, 
 as she raised her eyes to the naked cliff-;, whose 
 birch-trees, brambles, and briar-roses had shed their 
 leaves, so that nothing but baie stems and tlie I'cd 
 rods of the doir-wood relieved their dun nionotonv, 
 concealed at times from view by the mountain- 
 mists, — " who would ever believe that this roaring 
 torrent, and these naked crags, were the same timid 
 stream and richly - clothed pinnacles which ]\Ir. 
 Egley compared Avitli Dove Dale, and was partial 
 enough to call the Happy Valley !" — 
 
 "And so it is — and so it sltall he the Happy 
 Valley, lass 1" cried her fatlier, who had never, how- 
 ever, heard the name of Rasselas, to which Mark 
 and Priscilla alluded. — " I shall be disappointed 
 indeed if my daughter-in-law don't find it a
 
 THE IXUNDATIOX. 157 
 
 plt'osanter spot than any iii the cities of London 
 and "Westminster, 4o say notliing of ilie borough of 
 Sonthwark. — Many an artist and book -making 
 gentlem;in has visitt'd tlie pLace since I first came 
 to live here, wlio gave it the wliip-liand uvver 
 Borrowdale itself." — 
 
 Priscilhi also gave it tlie preference over Bori'ow- 
 dale, and evci-v oliier dale in the -worid. Bnt she 
 Avould not have been the less glad, now that her 
 preparations rendered it indispensable occasionally 
 to visit Duddonstone, if the eddying stream had 
 not approached quite so near the cliffs in two spots 
 between the New House and Duddon Force, where 
 tlie jutting rocks formed a right angle in the vale, 
 so as to ensure wet feet for the remainder of the 
 morning. — Nothing short of her girlish agility 
 would have undertaken the effort of overleaping 
 that foaming marge ; which sometimes only sod- 
 dened the turf, and sometimes reached the ankle of 
 the persevering pedestrian. — 
 
 " Maister Francis's respects to you, Muss Atfield," 
 sail old Job, accosting her one day in so unaccus-
 
 158 THE INUXOATIOX. 
 
 tomed a cruise that slie had some diificultv in re- 
 cognizing the husbnnd of Lame Moggy, — " Maister 
 Francis's respects to you, muss, and aboot the 20tli 
 of the moontli you're to please goo and loodge in 
 Dood'nst'n."— 
 
 "I rather think not!" — she replied, a little 
 astonished at the peremptory wording of the 
 message; — "fur, on the 21st, my bi'other and 
 sister are to be here." — 
 
 " Ay — and the new moon's to be here I " — added 
 Job, Avitli an oracular nod, — compelled for once, by 
 the force of circumstances, to have an opinion of 
 his own.— • 
 
 " But what has the new moon to do. Job, with 
 my lodging in Duddonstone ? " — 
 
 " Joost the spring toide, muss, — that's a'!" — 
 
 " Spring tides have never frightened me out of 
 house and home yet, Job,' — said Miss Atfield. — 
 " The utmost harm they ever did us, was by 
 obliging my father to hovel the cattle till the pas- 
 lures dried again." — 
 
 "Ye ken yer oon matters best," — njoiucd Job.
 
 THE INUNDATION. 159 
 
 " I coom to worn ye, to pleasure Maister Francis. 
 — Sae joost sot bj'r oon foir-side, as yer moind 
 loikes ye." — 
 
 Satisfied that the lighthouse-man — a man of 
 telescopes and almanacks, and learned in maritime 
 mysteries, — would not have been at the cost of 
 despatching a special messenger to the New House 
 on idle grounds, Priscilla judged it right to acquaint 
 her i^ither, as though the tidings came solely from 
 the cove, that an unusually high tide was expected 
 on the 20th of December ; which, unluckily for the 
 arrival of their expected guests, would most likely 
 render the valley impassable for a day or two. But 
 the farmer, Avhose experience on such points trebled 
 her own, assured her there was nothing to fear. 
 Excepting once, when a strong south-wester set in 
 with the new moon, he had never seen the waters 
 out so far up the valley as his habitation ; and there 
 was consequently no danger of an impediment for 
 such as approached his house from Duddonstone. 
 For what chanced lower in the dale, he took little 
 care. — His cattle were hovelled high and dry in his
 
 160 Till': INUNDATION. 
 
 coAV-slieds ; and tliose he took in to grnze during 
 tlie summer, returned to their several homesteads. 
 — Ikit even liad lie possessed a herd of buffidoes 
 or unicorns in peril, provided thuir fate nothing 
 retarded the arrival of Johnny and his wife, he 
 would have scarce been at the trouble of securing 
 them on liigher ground. 
 
 " Uvver brave, !Maister, is whiles fule-hardy," 
 said Ruth, on liearing the farmer hold the same 
 language to one of his men, whose experience sug- 
 gested that neither hoof nor cartwheel should be 
 left in the dale on the 20th. " The least dan2;ers 
 is soomtimes tlie warst to pass. I'v'e heard tell 
 that in a pleasure-boating, the great Lord Nelson 
 himsel' was afeard o' capsizing." — 
 
 Whoever else was " afeard," Farmer Atfield was 
 not to be daunted. — "With the prospect of welcoming 
 his handsome son and new dauglit(;r, he would have 
 defied [Meheniet Ali and all his host! — 
 
 Still, Priscilla was too much touched by the 
 lundly feeling manifested towards her by the warn- 
 ing of Master Francis, to pass it over without
 
 THE INUNDATION. ICl 
 
 notice. Her warmest thanks were due to liira who 
 so gratuitously apprised them that there was a lion 
 in the path. — She consequently indited a few lines, 
 to be conveyed back by Job at his next passage 
 tlirough Dudbourne Dale ; assuring the recluse 
 that the evil consequences he predicted, never 
 reached so fiir as their habitation. And while 
 closing her letter, the grateful girl resolved to seize 
 the occasion of her brother's visit, to endeavour to 
 establish a more sociable state of things between 
 them and their neighbour at the lighthouse. 
 
 " The tides will have subsided by Christraag 
 Day," thouglit Priscilla. " And I may perliaps 
 induce Mr. and Mrs. John Atfield, (how well it 
 sounds, * Mr. and IMrs. John Atfield !') to walk as 
 far as the cove, and while apologizing for Crony's 
 misdeme!lnours, contrive to extract from Master 
 Francis a civil message to my father." — 
 
 The tides might recede in due season ; for over 
 them, the lady Moon, — who, if herself inconstant, 
 is the source of the utmost regularity in others, 
 — holds supreme authority. — But all the other 
 
 M
 
 162 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 phenomena of nature seemed to have broken 
 bounds.— Before daybreak on the 18th of December, 
 commenced a tempestuous rain, -which continued 
 without intermission thi'oughout the day ; and such 
 was the inclemency of the weather, that even the 
 ftxrmer, though apt to defy the elements as unflinch- 
 ingly as Ajax or King Lear, did not venture further 
 than a visit to his cattle-sheds, and a few sheep 
 penned to fatten in the outhouses. — Right glad Avas 
 he to fling off his wet frieze coat, and creep to the 
 parlour-fire ; saying every five minutes to Priscilla, 
 as she came and went on her housewifely errands, 
 — " What a day for the wedding, Priss ! — If this 
 weather hold good as far 's the South, what a sad, 
 sad day for the wedding ! — Lucky we 'd made up 
 our minds, lass, not to keep it till they arrived : for 
 dang me if I could find it in my heart to be merry 
 with such a hurricane beating again' the house !"— 
 " But it will not last, — it cannot last, — father !' 
 ci'ied Priscilla, — as a fresh volley rattled against the 
 new window-panes, as if to test their solidity. — And 
 when she found her prognostications negatived by
 
 THF. INUNDATION'. 163 
 
 the setting-ill of an evening still stormier than the 
 'lay, she hastened to bring her needle-work to the 
 parlour, to chat away her father's low spirits. — 
 
 When the darkness of night arrived, the persever- 
 ing rain became more and more dispiriting ; for lo ! 
 the voice of the storm was loud in Dudbourne Dale. 
 At Midsummer, there is somethinnf soothinsr in 
 lying awake with the windows open, listening amid 
 the hush of nature to the regular ebb and flow of 
 the sea, breaking on the distant shore. — But though 
 pleasant to be reminded f/ien that the mighty ocean 
 rolled at so short a distance, it was less satisfactory 
 noAV that its roar was intermingled with the bellow- 
 ing of the wind and beating of the rain. — A pack 
 of war-dogs seemed to have broken loose, and 
 to be raging over flood and field. — 
 
 " What a journey for them, poor things !'' mused 
 the farmer, with a shudder, as he sat slowly rubbing 
 his knees before the fire. "Why here 's even 
 Crony deserted his place on the mat, and come 
 crouching to tlie fire.' — 
 
 On heai'ing honourable mention of his name, the 
 
 M 2
 
 164 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 lui'ciier raised liis muzzle from between liis foi'epawp. 
 to listen cither to lii.-; master's holdinc: fortb, or to 
 the sheets of water suddenly thrown at the windows, 
 as by some over-cleanly housewife ; — soon glaJ, 
 however, to resume his comfortable snooze. — 
 
 " At all events, father," observed Prlscilla, hoping 
 to cheer him by reference to the wedding party, 
 " if they had such rainy weather for going to church 
 us has befallen us here, they do not begin their 
 journey northward 'till to-morrow. — The first day 
 for Mr. Egley ! But a whole month for us, in com- 
 pensation ! " — 
 
 "And a pleasant month they're like to find it, if 
 we're to judge by the onset ! " cried the old man, 
 peevishly. — "What in the wide world shall we do 
 to amuse this Lon 'un lass, whom her cousin spoke 
 of as such a merry -makei*, if we've nothing to show 
 her in Dudbourne Dale but a wide water-course, 
 and are forced to paddle to kirk in a boat ? " — 
 
 " Not quite so bad as t/ial ! " cried Priscilhi, 
 smiling at his petulance. — " If the spring-tide 
 sJiould drive up the waters, before Sunday all wiV
 
 r?^,'^^ 
 
 
 /^f/i^ ^^^z^-??^ ^^5^^^^4iv-/»<«'25^^/i«<'' 
 
 Pa4/e,^o.''. o'
 
 THE INUNDATIOX. 165 
 
 be high and dry ngain. — Trust to me, fatlier, — 
 trust to 7)!e, as Noah did to the raven !— I pro)7Hse 
 you dry hind, for Sunday, for early church ! " — 
 
 The churchwarden hstened, smiled, and believed. 
 — He was much in the habit of smiling at his little 
 daughter, and believing in her words. — Had old 
 Ruth, the lame Xantippe of the cove, — or her 
 patron, the weather-wise master of the lighthouse, 
 — or even the parson, (as Farmer Atfield exclusively 
 designated the vicar of Duddonstone,) predicted a 
 cataclysm, and Priscilla stood out for fine weather, 
 her father would have scorned to provide himself 
 with an umbrella ! 
 
 But his face lengthened a little, when, on the 
 19th, Jem, the cow-boy, (who had been despatched 
 into Duddonstone to inquire for letters, and bring 
 back a few articles bespoken by their new Mrs. 
 Glasse,) returned with a terrified face, and news 
 that in coming round the point called the Hutch, — 
 one of the narrowest openings of the valley, — he 
 had been forced to wade the Dudbourne ; and was 
 not only in danger of being carried away by the
 
 166 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 torrent, but had lost hold of his basket ; by whicu 
 mischance, a letter, bearing the London post-mark, 
 to say nothing of a packet of groceries and a parcel 
 from the linendraper's, were carried off at tlie rate 
 of fifteen knots an hour towards the Irish Sea ; 
 with only a faint chance, that, beaten back by the 
 tide, the basket, with the contents washed out, 
 misrht be found bobbing on the waves ! — 
 
 A sad affair ! — Not alone because the lost letter 
 might contain important intelligence relating to the 
 traveller?, and even news tliat the journey, or per- 
 haps the wedding itself, was put off ; but because, 
 such being the state of the road, it would be im- 
 possible for John and his wife to proceed further 
 than Duddonstone. — Tiie light cart belonging to the 
 Nag's Head, engnged by the farmer to bring them 
 from Duddon Bridge, would be carried away by 
 the current almost as easily as the basket of 
 groceries ! — 
 
 At tliis grievous intelligence, Priscilla hurried 
 into her own room, to conceal her tears ; convinced 
 that the London letter — now, alas! floating on the
 
 THE INUNDATION. 167 
 
 ) 
 
 waters — bore, somehow or other, reference to the 
 promised visit of IMark. — And while leaning 
 against the window-sill to verify the state of the 
 weather, she perceived with dismay, that the partial 
 gleam which the setting sun, even when sinking 
 behind torrents of rain, contrived to throw slant- 
 ■\vise into the valley, — in summer representing a 
 golden ray, in winter only a brighter streak amid 
 the gloom, — Avas reflected on a boundless looking- 
 glass ! — Within the last two hours, the waters had 
 risen so rapidly as to be visible from her chamber- 
 window as far as her eye could reach ! — 
 
 " Who told ye there was a block clood a-hanging 
 oor the hoose ? " — cried old Ruth, who, embittered 
 by tlie recent changes in the establishment, neg- 
 lected no occasion of playing the Cassandra. — " Ma' 
 be the ools skritched and the oold dooggie doog his 
 grave for nothing ! — As sure as Good's above us, 
 muss, the eend of a's beginning in Doodbo'n 
 Dal'!' — 
 
 Prissy had no time to lose, in combating the old 
 'vuman's superstitions. — She wanted to be with her
 
 1G8 TUE INUNDATION. 
 
 father. — She wanted to refer to his experience. — 
 She wanted to know what further precautions 
 should be taken against the rising of the flood ; 
 which, though the house stood too many feet above 
 the level of the valley to place it in jeopardy, Avas 
 already sufficient to obstruct all access to their 
 dwelling. — By a mere chance, they were victualled 
 to stand a siege. Lut how were they to commur.i- 
 cate with Duddonstone ? — how to warn their dear 
 ones against proceeding further ? — or explain how 
 painfully they were circumstanced ? — 
 
 " You should ha' told me, lass, — you should ha' 
 told me ! " cried the old man, when at lengtli, sob- 
 bing on his shoulder, she related, word by word, 
 the message of which Job the fisherman had been 
 the bearer. — " The fellow at the lighth'us could 
 ha' no bad motive, nor want to mislead us. — And 
 he 's been a seafaring man, they say : a generation 
 more weatherwise than folks o' the inlands. — You 
 should ha' told me, lass, and then I'd a been sleep- 
 ing this night alone in Dudbourne Dale, without 
 feeling at my heart the gnawing pain that ne'er
 
 THE INUNDATION. 169 
 
 fails to torment it "wlien them it doats on is in 
 danger." — 
 
 " And do you think, father, that any persua- 
 sions in the world would have induced me to 
 leave jou. here alone in such a strait ? " ex- 
 claimed the affectionate girl, clinging closer to his 
 side. 
 
 "If mischief's decreed, child," rejoined the far- 
 mer, "better it fall on the mossy trunk, fit only to 
 be cut down for firewood, than on a young branch, 
 whose leaves are yet green ! — God's mercy forgi' 
 me. Prissy, — but I feel I 've been too uppish o' 
 late. — I've neglected the Lord's business for my 
 own. — Even in his house, and with his Avord spoken 
 in my ears, my thoughts was gaddin' hitherward, — 
 devising how best to cloak our homeliness in the 
 eyes of James Egley's family. — And is it not writ- 
 ten, ' Pride goeth before a fall ?' " 
 
 " No, father, no ! — It was not pride that tempted 
 you ; — that is, not undue pride. You wanted only 
 to make your son as comfortable under your roof, 
 as he is under that of his benefactor. You wanted
 
 17U THE INUNDATION. 
 
 Ills young wife to be pleased with his father's house, 
 and his fiither's people." — 
 
 " You say it kindly for me, Prissy ! — But I won't 
 deny that tliere was more o' the leaven o' human 
 vanity at the bottom o' my doings, than beseems 
 my gray hairs. — Yet Avho has received more 
 vvarnin's than I have, that in the brightest of our 
 summer days a storm is at hand ! — It was when my 
 wedding-day was fixed, — my prospects in life fairly 
 made out, — and my new home smiling at me with 
 open arms, that a sudden crash involved me in ruin ; 
 - — depriving me at a blow of all I held dear in this 
 world, — a brother, — a plighted wife, — ^my v/orldly 
 means, — my family credit" — 
 
 " A biother ^ " exclaimed Priscilla, who, from 
 the reserve maintained by her father concerning the 
 events of his early days, had been led to believe 
 him an only child. — 
 
 "A brother, lass;— and a crueller enemy never 
 raised hand against me. — But not a word of him 
 just now, Priss ! — With the hand of God pressing 
 on my rooftree, I 'd fain be in peace and charity
 
 THE INUNDATION. 171 
 
 with all men. — Oi" my second judgment, ni}^ dear 
 daughter, I can better bear to speak. For ^Yith the 
 thousht of that minole no harsh resentments. — 
 That blow was stricken from above ! — AVhile all 
 was prospering with me, Priscilla, — even but as 
 yesterday it prospered, — with a blessing upon me 
 and all that was mine, — it pleased God to remove 
 my wife from my arms, — to deprive my children of 
 their mother, — and leave me a heartbroken man, to 
 battle with the trials of life !" — 
 
 Priscilla drew nearer to her father, and inclined 
 her head dutifully and affectionately on his hand. 
 
 " And after those two terrible lessons," he re- 
 sumed, " hoiv could I dare to fancy myself once 
 more strong and independent ; and, forgetful there 
 was a God above me, say of my children and my 
 fortunes, ' Thus and thus shall it be ! ' " —
 
 172 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 According to tlie law of nature, a clilld should 
 derive counsel and succour from its parents. — But 
 how often in the course of life do parents obtain 
 from their offf^pring such solace and support, as 
 enable them to defy ojiposing evils! — By the time 
 old Atfield had listened for an hotir to Priscilla's 
 professions of filial devotion, he felt soothed and 
 strengthened, and submissive to the Divine will. 
 
 When bed -time came, and their family prayer 
 was at an end, he advised her to retire, as usual, to 
 rest. — Though the hurricane raged more furiously 
 tliau ever, what watch or vigil of theirs would avail 
 to divert a single rain-drop from its course? 
 
 " The men have been a-bed these two hours," 
 said the farmer. " Bid Buth and ]\Iartha also 
 endeavour to sleep, — that they may be stirring
 
 THE l.VUXDATION. 173 
 
 betimes — fur I foresee an anxious day. — And so 
 God rest ye, Priss, and give his angels charge 
 concerning ye." — 
 
 "You apprehend danger, then, my dear father?" — 
 
 " Not danger of life and limb. — The brook never 
 yet rose within six feet of tiie foundations of 
 my house.'' 
 
 " Reuben Dorr's cottage and the row of huts 
 below Duddon Force, must be surrounded with 
 water, if Jem's account can be relied on," said 
 Priscilla, trying to speak with composure. — 
 
 " Surrounded ? — more like swept away ! " — 
 responded the farmer, in a hoarse voice. '• But 
 Reuben Dorr was warned it would be so, sooner 
 or later, before a stone of his cottage was laid. — 
 And yet he would not be persuaded." — 
 
 " Poor souls, — poor souls ! — Six young children 
 in that house — in the others, twice as many !" — 
 murmured Priscilla. "But no help of ours could 
 liave reached them I" — 
 
 "May their reliance have been, as mine is, on 
 Him that is mighty to save !" — rejoined the fiirmer.
 
 174 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 — " Whether a house be built among tlie high 
 places, or like the bird's in the fallow, unless the 
 Lord keep the city, the -watchman ■\vatcheth but 
 in vain. — Good night, Prias. — If the waters con- 
 tinue to gain ground to-morrow, I don't doubt 
 one or other of my friends at Dudd'nst'a will boat 
 their way here, and give us advice and help." — 
 
 Another lialf-hour, and all was still in the 
 house. But this only rendered more fearfully 
 audible the raging of the Avind through the valley, 
 and the gusts of rain with which it lashed the 
 windows. — It seemed impossible that the New 
 House, which stood detached, could hold its ground 
 against the tempest. But in that part of the 
 building, no one was lodged ; and the older portion 
 of the tenement was firm as the rock with Avhich 
 it was incorporated. — Grateful therefore were the 
 thanks to Providence of Jacob At field, that the 
 mischance had not occurred a week later; v.ith 
 four or five strangers within his gates, lodged in 
 the condemned house. — 
 
 But though Priscilla judgrd it kinder to seem
 
 THE INUNDATION. 175 
 
 convinced bj her father's nssurance that they 
 stood beyond reach of the torrent, — whose roar 
 was audible above the howlinp; wind and beatinir 
 rain, like that of some beast of prey in a forest, 
 — the Yery soul within her trembled. — What 
 would she have given, as she endeavoured to look 
 out into the darkness, to have discerned but a 
 single star twinkling amid the gloom, — an eternal 
 star, — inspiring recollections of that mighty past 
 whose immensity appears like permanence, and 
 hopes for that mysterious future whose glories 
 are immutable as the past. — For alas! her destinies 
 seemed to be already partaking of the colour of 
 her father's. — In the full fruition of her wishes, 
 on the eve of the greatest enjoyment conceded 
 to one of her years — reunion with the object of 
 a blameless attachment, — to be thus cruelly 
 tormented ! — 
 
 In spite, however, of her fears, in spite of the 
 evil prophecies which Ruth had grumbled in her 
 ears throughout the day, in spite of the restless- 
 ness with which old Crony, who usually slept at
 
 17G THE INUNDATION. 
 
 the foot of tlie stairs, chose to follow her into her 
 room, and crouch down by her bedside, — the usual 
 drowsiness of night came upon her. IJesolved, 
 in case the tempest under wliich the house seemed 
 rocking, should increase, to betake herself to her 
 father's room, she lay down in her clothes ; and 
 ■while listening and listening to the gusts of the 
 hurricane, and commending to Heaven in her 
 prayers all those "who, at that moment, might be 
 exposed to the perils of the sea, her senses became 
 gradually deadened, and she slept. — 
 
 How long — who can say ! — A sudden shock, 
 a shock as though heaven and earth were coming 
 together, — a stunning explosion as of some vast 
 powder-magazine, — suddenly jarred the troubled 
 souls of the inmates of that fated house ! — In a 
 moment, all wei'e collected below : the farmer 
 and his daughter believing that an earthquake 
 had taken place, — the servants loudly exclaiming 
 that the day of judgment was at hand ! — 
 
 "Hark !" cried old Atfield,— raising his withered 
 hand, which trembled while he spoke. — " It is not
 
 THE INUNDATION. 177 
 
 tliunder — it is no earthquake. — I hear the rushing 
 of a miglitj torrent." — 
 
 And Priscilla heard it too, — as tliough tlie 
 fountains of the great deep were loosed. — For 
 during her short interval of rest, the wind had 
 in some degree lulled, and the rain slackened : 
 so that there was no difficulty in deciding that 
 the roar of waters driving along the dale, and 
 filling it v/ith sound and fury, must proceed from 
 the bursting of the lake through its embankment. 
 
 Many years before, such a catastroplie had been 
 predicted by the engineer under whose direction 
 the lighthouse was erected ; and on mentioning the 
 prediction jestingly to Mark Egley, he had pointed 
 out to them that the natural embankment which 
 retained its waters above the valley, was indeed 
 dangerously worn by the mining of centuries and 
 agglomeration of water occasionally produced by 
 thaws and floods. A lower issue, secured by an 
 abutment of solid masonry, ought, he said, to relieve 
 the pressure. 
 
 Before Prissy had time to utter a syllable, her 
 
 N
 
 178 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 father snatched up his hat, and rushed forth ; and 
 by the single light burning on the table, the faces 
 of those he left behind might be seen blanched 
 into the whiteness of death, while awaiting the 
 doom he should aimounce on his return. — To each 
 of them, every second of his absence appeared an 
 age!— 
 
 At lenglh, his hurried and irregular footsteps 
 ■were heard appi'oaching ; when Priscilla cautiously 
 opened the door of the room, lest the violent draught 
 from without should extinguish the light. — But the 
 man who entered was excited beyond the influence 
 of minor cautions ! — Staggering to a chair, he 
 covered his face with his hands, to hide the first 
 tears whic;h had found their way out of his eyes 
 since the death of his wife. — 
 
 " My poor lass ! — my poor young happy Prissy !" 
 said he, leaning over the head of the weeping girl, 
 who was already on her knees before his knees. — 
 And the mutterings of old Ruth, that " she had 
 told 'cm no good 'ould come o' tempting provi- 
 dence," were almost unheard.
 
 THE INUNDATION. 179 
 
 " How long to daylight ? " cried tlie fanner, 
 starting up and drawing nearer the candle to look 
 at his watch ; when he saw, to liis grief, that two 
 hours had yet to ulapse before the catastrophe could 
 be known at Duddonstone. 
 
 " Even if our friends knew what had occurred, 
 father, how could they reach us, — how afford assist- 
 ance ? " inquired Priscilla. 
 
 " 'Twould be somethin' to know tbey wer' tryin'; 
 somethin' to feel they wer' thinkin' of and sorrowin* 
 for us ! " he replied. — " There's a double pang,. 
 Priss, in dyin' like a dog, — wi' no one to say, 'God 
 be with ye,' when the trouble-moment's at hand !" — 
 
 " You think our case a lost one, then ? " inquired 
 Priscilla, so faintly as not to be over-heard liy the 
 servants — one of whom was praying aloud for help, 
 — the other rautterinc: lamentations that sounded 
 more like a curse. — 
 
 The farmer shook his head. 
 
 " The old lime-tree is torn up. The waters have 
 reached the garden-hedge," said he, in a desi')airing 
 voice. 
 
 n2
 
 180 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 "And are they plill rising? " 
 
 Her father replied by putting forward his foot, 
 vhich was di'enched to the instep. 
 
 " While I stood there," said he, " they advanced 
 midway on the p:\th." 
 
 " Tlien God have mercy on ns," — ejaculated 
 Priscilla, " for a terrible dcatli must wc die I " — 
 
 A moment's reflection served to remind her, 
 that thongli in the straiter portion of the valley 
 between Duddon Force and their house, the com- 
 pressed waters might rise at a frightful rate, the 
 moment they reached tlie enlargement, on the 
 highest point of which, at a slope of nearly ten feet 
 from tlie precipitous bank, rose the basement story 
 of tlicir house, the increased area must considerably 
 diminish the speed of their rise — The rain having 
 ceased to fall, she tin-ew the first garment at hand 
 over her shoulders, and, taking her father by the 
 arm, went forth to ascertain the worst: — with 
 dilficulty keeping her footing on the slippery 
 path.^ 
 
 And, lo ! her surmises were verified. — The
 
 THE INUNDATION. 181 
 
 waters had not advanced half-a-foot beyond the 
 spot described by her father. — 
 
 But though as yet theu* territory was safe, tlie 
 deadly chill that struck to her heart from so great 
 an expanse of water, — the sense that a mighty 
 element had broken loose, and Avas seeking whom it 
 misfht devour, — the consciousness that there was 
 movement, (and a movement of what tei'rilic force !) 
 where she was accustomed to find vacancy and 
 stillness, — made her hurry back to the house, as her 
 father had done before, with the despair of complete 
 lielplessness. — 
 
 For it was manifest that, to find an issue, the 
 waters, which at present Avere crushing and carrying 
 all before them, must contend witli the spring-tide 
 bearing up the mouth of the valley, with all the 
 additional force that could be derived from a south- 
 western gale. — 
 
 "Had I taken Master Francis's advice, even 
 though he contemplated only the hundredth 
 part of the evil which has befallen us," mused 
 Priscilla, " we should at this moment have
 
 182 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 been passing the night peaceably at Diuldon- 
 stone." 
 
 And grievous was the thought that, had she 
 seconded his advice, her father's gray hairs might 
 have been spared their present peril ! 
 
 When the denseness of gloom around them at 
 length yielded to the transparence of coming day, 
 old Kutli, delighting, lilce the raven, in ghastly 
 spectacles, was the first to totter forth fur a survey. 
 But on her return, so incoherent were her eja- 
 culations, and so eloquent the shudder she was 
 unable to repress, that Priscilla could picture to 
 hei'self, unseen, tiic friglitful aspect of that world of 
 waters, — struggling, boiling, lashing the granite 
 sides of the Dale, — and rising and rising, as the 
 estuary became in its turn a boundary created by 
 the advancing; tide. — 
 
 " High water at ten o'clock!" murmured Priscilla, 
 mechanically repeating what she had heard from 
 Job. — " Still, therefore, still, three hours of suspense 
 before us!" — 
 
 And when at length she gathered courage to
 
 THE INUNDATION. 183 
 
 venture forth into the chilly morning, and cast her 
 eyes on the foaming torrent which shook the very 
 ground under her feet, she could entertain no doubt, 
 at the rate at which the waters were rising, tliat 
 before the receding of the tide admitted of a partial 
 discbarge, her father's dwelUng, and all that it con- 
 tained, must be swept away. 
 
 Under that conviction, she hastened in search of 
 the old man. — For the short time they had to abide 
 together on earth, she could not bear tliat they 
 should be asunder. — She wanted his firm hand to 
 hold in her's. She wanted his shoulder whereon 
 to weep. In death as in life, they must not be 
 divided. — 
 
 Expecting to find him with his cattle, either pro- 
 viding for their safety, or perhaps taking leave of 
 them, (for those dumb beasts were to him a second 
 family,) she stole along the wet pathway towards 
 the oiBces. But on opening the latch, the \<^vm 
 and fragrant breath of the poor animals, as they 
 turned in their stalls from the manger at which 
 thev were feeding, on hearing her well-known voice.
 
 184 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 was all that greeted her. — She must pursue her 
 search elsewhere. — 
 
 Guided by Crony, who hurried on restlessly 
 before her witli his ears and crest erect, as though 
 he scented danger in the air, she paused before 
 a rambling outhouse, recently used by the carpenters 
 as a workshop. — And there indeed she found lier 
 father ; — his coat thrown off, and the sweat drop- 
 ping heavily from his brow, as, with the aid of Jem, 
 and a thresher who slept on the premises, he 
 endeavoured to lash firmly together two ladders left 
 by the slaters. It Avas clear tliat he cherished the 
 insane idea of scaling the cliffs ! — 
 
 " My dear, dear father, — this is mere waste of 
 time!" exclaimed Priscilla. — " Tlie utmost height 
 of these ladders is not five-and-thirty feet, — and the 
 level of the cliffs sixty !" — 
 
 " St. Bee's pulpit, child; you forget St. Bee's 
 pulpit," cried tlic old man, adverting to a slab, or 
 truncated pinnacle, overlooking tlie orcliard from 
 about half the height of the cliffs, — whicli, accord- 
 ing to Job, (a native of the Ualc, and well skilled
 
 THE INUNDATIOX. 185 
 
 in its legendsj) Avas the spot from whence the 
 Cumbrian saint addressed the population of Dud- 
 donstone. — 
 
 " But even -were it possible to steady the hvdder, 
 father, the ledge is so narrow ! " 
 
 " It contains footing for you and the women," 
 interrupted the farmer. — Yo7i, at least, could be 
 placed in safety." — 
 
 " In the upper story of the house we should 
 be equally safe," pleaded Priscilla. — " Even 
 if the waters should reach the ground - 
 floor,"— 
 
 " If the waters should reach the ground-floor," 
 again interrupted her father, " the whole premises 
 would vanish like a wisp o' straw ! — The new 
 house, standing out from the cliffs, by admitting the 
 waters in the rear, renders tlie whole insecure. 
 "What do you see floating past you ? Kot only the 
 trees torn up by the torrent, — but fragments o' poor 
 Reuben Dorr's dwelling, — and the wrack o' furni- 
 ture washed down from the houses under Duddon 
 Force ! I thought just now, (God grant I may ha'
 
 186 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 been deceived,) tluit one o' the objects eddying ia 
 the cuiTent was a human body ! " — 
 
 PrisciUa remonstrated no further. It seemed to 
 comfort the old man to be up and doing; — though in 
 a strait where the best doings of mortal hand were 
 as the wavering of a reed in the wind. — 
 
 " Let him aloon, — let him aloon, muss," muttered 
 Ruth, who, having followed her young mistress, 
 stood looking on. "A wi'fu' mon maun ha' his 
 way. And whoy gain,say him ? A' in this woorld '11 
 be the same to us at noon." 
 
 The heavy lashing of the waves, more and more 
 agitated by every advance of the tide, accompanied 
 by the screaniing of the sea-birds driven inland by 
 the storm, sounded like a confirmation of this gloomy 
 menace. Involuntarily PrisciUa pressed her hands 
 to her head, to shut out a sound which was as a 
 funeral kncU to her young heart ! — 
 
 " If we had only perished in the darkness ! " 
 thought she, — distracted at tlic idea of being 
 cari'ied down, first a struggling victim, and lastly a 
 floating corpse, to the great deep. — '* To behold
 
 THE INUNDATION. 187 
 
 one's fate afar off, without tlie power to delay it by 
 a second, is as fearful an ordeal as the felon's dread- 
 ful death." 
 
 At that moment, while withdrawing her hands 
 from her ears, a new sound was added to the many 
 that bewildered her senses. — She fancied she heard 
 a shout! — She could almost have believed she even 
 heard a voice addressing her by name ! — But whose, 
 — and from whence ? — Nothing was to be seen on 
 every side but those troubled waters I — Alas ! what 
 strange delusions, — what incolierent thoughts, dis- 
 turb the mind overawed by the near aspect of 
 death ! — 
 
 But again, on the threshold of the house, her 
 foot was delayed by what she no longer doubted to 
 be a human voice! — Perhaps some friend from 
 Duddonstone, apprized of their sad situation, che- 
 rished the hope of affording them succour ! — 
 
 On raising her eyes in the direction of the sound, 
 she perceived, indeed, on the summit of the cliffs, 
 thrown out by tlie leaden-hued lov/ering sky that 
 still threatened more rain for the increase of theiif
 
 188 THE INUNDATIOX. 
 
 misery, several human ilgures endeavouring to 
 attract her attention ; — nor did it much surprise 
 her to detect, in the shaggy outline of the foremost, 
 poor Job of the cove, accompanied by one of liis 
 mates of the coble. 
 
 But tlic fisherman had a companion, by whom 
 their movements were directed. — And, lo ! it 
 glanced like lightning into her mind, tliat the 
 individual having authority over them, could be 
 no other than their neighbour — Master Francis ! — 
 
 " God be thanked ! " ejaculated Priscilla, clasping 
 her hands. — " He is a man of sense and experience ; 
 and has Chri.^tian feelins^s in his lieart." 
 
 As slie spoke, a large stone having a paper 
 bound to it, fell at the foot of the cliffs. It con- 
 tained a few words inscribed in pencil, addressed 
 to herself — 
 
 " If you will confide in our assistance, not 
 a minute must be lost, fur the waters are rapidly 
 gaining ground,'' — said the paper. " Job asserts 
 that you have ladders on the premises. — Let what-
 
 THE INUNDATION. 189 
 
 ever men are with you, hasten to bring them to 
 the foot of the clifls immediately, under St. Bee's 
 pulpit." — 
 
 Priscllla had no need to go in search of her 
 father. With the aid of his people, he was at that 
 moment bringing the ladders to tlie spot desig- 
 nated ; and after learning from his daughter what 
 had occurred, and perusing the letter, the old man 
 hastily waved his hat to their friend upon the cliffs, 
 in token that their purpose was understood, and 
 the offer of their services thankfully accepted. — At 
 such a moment, he was not likely to distinguish 
 Master Francis from the mariners of the cove. 
 
 Before, indeed, he had time to question Priscilla, 
 they perceived that one of the party was in the 
 act of being let down by his companions to the 
 stone called the Pulpit, by means of tackling pre- 
 pared for the purpose ; and though poor Prissy 
 concealed her face with her hands, to avoid the 
 frightful spectacle of a fellow-creature dangling in 
 the air, to whom the slightest want of presence
 
 190 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 of miud on the part of his comrades, must be fatal ; 
 the fiirmer, accustomed to see such feats performed 
 by the coves' men for the sake of such poor booty 
 as sea-birdd' eggs, entertained little alarm for his 
 safety. 
 
 The object of his descent soon became apparent, 
 when a double scaling-ladder was lowered by his 
 comrades; one end of which he with some difficulty 
 grappled to the hollow ledge of rock on ■which 
 he was standing ; and after a short pause, in 
 which his occupation could be only imperfectly 
 scanned by the anxious observers, a second stone 
 brought them a second niissive, desiring that the 
 ladders from below might be hoisted up by Atfield 
 and his companions, to ascertain the possibility of 
 bringing their project to an issue. — 
 
 "Who is this stranger that espouses our cause 
 so warmly ?'' — inquired the farmer in a tremulous 
 voice, of his daughter, — i>erhaps secretly surmising 
 the truth : — while Priscilla, dreading lest a pre- 
 cipitate disclosure might abate her father's desire 
 to profit by his generous efforts, replied evasively,^
 
 THE INUNDATION. 191 
 
 *' No doubt some neighbour of the two fishermen. 
 I have sometimes seen him rowing out to sea in 
 the life-boat, with Job and Long-armed Gib." — 
 
 That the tackle and ladders belonged to the 
 lighthouse, and the life-boat placed under the 
 custody of its guardian, instantly occurred to poor 
 Atfield, to enlighten whatever doubts might remain 
 in his mind. — But at that moment, an over-ruling 
 fear repressed every impulse of human passion. 
 His darling child was in danger ; and had the 
 Evil-one himself presented means for her rescue, 
 he might have demurred, ere he found courage to 
 reject them. With some difficulty, the ladders 
 were placed against the rock : and, as predicted 
 by Priscilla, fell more than five feet short of 
 St. Bee's pulpit ! — 
 
 But though the low-sailing mists which since 
 daybreak had hovered over Dudbourne Dale, so 
 as now and then to conceal the cliffs from view, 
 rendered it next to impossible to discern what was 
 going on above, Priscilla had such firm faith in 
 the will and skill of the Admiralty official, that
 
 192 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 even now, she did not give up lier cause as lost. — 
 And, lo ! as if in repayment of her ti-ust, a partial 
 clearance of the fog having placed Master Francis 
 once more before her, she saw tliat Long-armed 
 Gib had joined him on the ledge ; and tliat by 
 their united aid, the scaling-ladder by wliieli he 
 had descended, was re-swung, and firmly grappled 
 to those steadied below by Farmer Atfield and 
 the thresher. 
 
 A joyful consummation ! — But still more joyful 
 when the master-spirit by whom the arrangements 
 had been planned, put to the test in pers(m the 
 security of the ladder, whieli looked like a narrow 
 thread vibrating between the earth and sky. Like 
 one accustomed by a sailor's life to such perilous 
 descents, he was on terra firma almost as soon as 
 Priscilla had turned away her head in consterna- 
 tion, to avoid witnessing some fatal catasti'ophe. 
 
 " Tiiank ye, — thank ye, — and God bless ye!" 
 cried tlie farmer, seizing the sti-anger by the hand, 
 and concentrating the excitement of his feelings 
 into a hearty smack of the pahn. — " If we can get
 
 THE IXUXDATION. 193 
 
 tlicse poor souls up only as far as the pulpit-stone, 
 'twill be a reprieve I had thought past praying 
 for."— 
 
 "VYhile he was yet speaking, a sudden swell, pro- 
 duced by that of the tide at the estuary, or some 
 further breach of the banks of Diiddon - water, 
 caused so fright fid a rise, that scarcely four feet of 
 di-y land divided the house and tlie torrent I — Tlie 
 garden hedges Avere now under "water ; and several 
 sheds at the lower part of the premises swept away, 
 — The -waters of the Tarn, blackened by oozings 
 from the heath and peat earth, rendered tiie aspect 
 of that terrible Inundation still more gloomy : and 
 to be snatched into the cold and dark abyss by a 
 force against which there was no contending, while 
 the man she loved Avas approaching the spot full of 
 hope, and confidence, and affection, was a fate that 
 amply justified the eagerness with which Priscilla 
 listened to the instructions afforded her concerning 
 Ihe mode of adapting herself to the inclinaticni of 
 tlie ladder, — which Gib maintained above, while 
 her fatlier and INIaster Francis held it safe below. — 
 
 o
 
 194 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 At first, the pool! girl insisted that her gvay- 
 headed father shouki be the first to ascend. But 
 of this neither of them woukl hear. — 
 
 « Yoit must be the first," said Master Francis, 
 addressi ag her in an authoritative manner. " But 
 I promise you that the moment you are in safety, 
 I will not stir from this place 'till your father is by 
 vour side." 
 
 Perceiving her still irresolute, he added, in a 
 lower voice, an argument which he knew would be 
 convincing with her generous nature, " Your light 
 weight will serve to test the ladder, my dear," said 
 he, "before we risk your father's life." 
 
 And the tone in which the expression, " my dear," 
 escaped his lips Avas so thoroughly paternal, that 
 Priscilla felt doubly disposed to obey. 
 
 A few words to the farmer explained the clear 
 and ingenious views of their deliverer ; and though 
 the very heart within the old man contracted with 
 terror at the idea of seeing his girl adventure alone 
 •jp that precipitous ascent, (a height which botli were 
 in the habit of daily conteniplating as unscalable as
 
 THE INUNDATION. 195 
 
 the skies) — the firmness of their assistant, — his 
 own knowledge of the agihty and strength acquired 
 by his daughter from her country breeding, — and, 
 above all, his trust in tlie Hand that is mighty to 
 save, — inspired him witli courage to say to Priscilla 
 — " Now then, lass ! — a stout heart and a firm foot! 
 — One kiss, one last kiss before ye start — and then, 
 God's Mercy be with ye ! '" — 
 
 A minute afterwards, and the eyes of those 
 present were averted from the ladder ; Avhile the 
 being so dear to all remained suspended, Adhere the 
 slisrhtest stumble or dizziness must dash her to 
 pieces at their feet ! — 
 
 Poor Crony, forcibly withheld by the thresher 
 from following his mistress, uttered a piteous howl, 
 on seeing her pursue her way, where to follow was 
 impossible. 
 
 No wonder if others beside old Ruth regarded 
 that melancholy cry as an omen of further ill ! — 
 
 02
 
 19G 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A MOMKXT after\vard.-;, and a triumphant sliout 
 burst from the little group assembled in Dudbourne 
 Dale (if dale that could still be called wliicli pre- 
 sented the appearance of an agitated lake), on 
 beholding Priscilla safe on St. Bee's pulpit ! — No 
 one seemed to think it extraordinary when the 
 honest fisherman by ■whom she "was received and 
 assisted in the most difficult effort of all, — the step, 
 or rather struggle, that removed her from the 
 ladder to the ledge of rock, — took her into his 
 rough arms, and gave her a hug of gratulation. 
 
 According to the strict letter of his promise, 
 INIaster Francis insisted that the farmer should next 
 ascend. — In vain did old Atficld insist on the 
 ■women being first placed in safety. — No ! — a pro- 
 ;aise -^vas a promise. He must be the first.
 
 /^o/c- /u / f'//f //f-' 't'/.U^ //'
 
 THE INUNDATION-. 197 
 
 And the next he was. But though his head was 
 steadied by custom, his aged foot Avas not so firm 
 but that those below hekl their breaths while he 
 cautiously felt his way up the ladder, in a manner 
 how different from the intrepid agility of his 
 daughter I — And during:: those anxious moments, 
 Priscilla remained half distracted on her knees, with 
 her face close pressed against the clitf : — nor Avas it 
 till locked in the old man's arms, witli his tears 
 pouring down upon her head, that she found 
 strength to offer thanks to God for their preser- 
 vation. — 
 
 Both father and daughter now expected that the 
 next person to join tliem Avould be one of the 
 women. But, to Priscilla's surprise, tlie Avhite 
 head and sun -browned face of Master Francis 
 appeai'ed above the ledge. — 
 
 " Time enough, — time enough ! " he reijlied to 
 the expression of her hopes that those below would 
 not be left to their fate. — " I Avill be back with 
 (hem the moment you and your father are safe. 
 What you have still to go through, is half what's
 
 198 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 been already done. But I can trust to nobody but 
 myself to secure the tackling." — 
 
 Kot a moment was lost in ungrappling the scaling 
 ladder and fixing it to the rocks above ; where, 
 Avith the assistance of Job, all being secured as 
 before, Priscilla recommenced her ascent. — Tlie 
 distance between St. Bee's pulpit and the summit, 
 comprised scarcely twenty feet ; but, connected as 
 it Avas with the frightful idea of suspension over 
 such an abyss, their friend of the lighthouse judged 
 it better to ascend before the trembling girl, to 
 prove the steadiness of the machinery. — 
 
 But, alas ! as Master Francis was about to place 
 his foot on the first round of the ladder, a glance at 
 the object of his solicitude arrested his steps. 
 Every vestige of colour had deserted her face : and 
 on taking her hand, he found it so deathly cold, thap 
 it was clear both strength and courage were deser» 
 ing her. — A rash glance along the valley from thai 
 dizzy height, had disj^layed such a scene of devas- 
 tation, — from the point where the black waters 
 were still rolling from the lake, to tliat where tho
 
 THE IXUXDATIOX. 199 
 
 beating back of tlie torrent bj the tide whitened 
 it ■with sea-foam, while multitudes of sea-birds, 
 driven into shelter, kept circling over the strife 
 of waters which now occupied the place of her 
 quiet home and haunts, — that nature sank under 
 the shock. — 
 
 "She cannot attempt the ascent in this state !" 
 cried Master Fx'ancis, directing' her father's atten- 
 tion to her faintness. " And not a restorative of 
 any kind at hand !" — 
 
 " My poor daughter — my child — my darling 
 Priss, take courage !" sobbed the farmer, kneeling 
 down beside her on the rock, and clasping hej; 
 hands in his own. " For your old Other's sake, 
 look up, — take heart !" — 
 
 But the fonder his words, the creater the 
 struggle of her feelings. — Another minute, and 
 she lapsed into a state of utter insensibility. 
 
 " There is but one chance for her !" said the 
 stranger, who was there as her guardian angel. — 
 " "We must sling her by means of the tackle I used 
 in placing the ladder. Having carefully secured
 
 200 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 her, I will be up in a second to direct the pullies 
 with my own hands." 
 
 Stupified with grief and alarm, the father ofTcred 
 no opposition. IJut while assisting to fix the cords 
 and Jietting round the body of his unconscious 
 child, drops of anguish fell from his forehead. 
 
 "Keep fast by the rock, man I — Gib ! pin him 
 fast to the clit!s !" shouted JVLister Francis from 
 above, when, on Ijcholding his unconscious daughter 
 slowly raised and suspended on the verge of eter- 
 nity, the farmer stepped backwards on the narrow 
 platform to watch her ascent, with the same rash 
 preoccupation of mind which has caused the des- 
 truction of more than one architect and fresco- 
 painter. 
 
 By the time Priscilla's safety admitted of the 
 fisliennan's relaxing his grasp on the old man's 
 sleeve, her father seemed nearly bereft of his 
 senses. 
 
 "This will never do! — Collect yourself! — You 
 must be up and moving, Master Atfield !" said the 
 lighthouse keeper, >Yhen his active movements
 
 THE IXUXDATIOX. 201 
 
 brought liim back to Lis post. — '= Your daughter 
 is sobbing her heart out, up yonder, -with no one to 
 mind her but my friend Job, — a roughish sort of 
 waiting-woman ! — The sooner you're with her tlie 
 better. — Unless you want me to try the strength 
 of my tackle upon you, make haste ! — Remember 
 I've still to provide for the safety of the poor 
 trembling creatures below !" 
 
 Thus exhorted, the farmer took heart. The 
 idea of holding Priscilla once more safe in his 
 arms, inspired him with strength; and in a few 
 minutes, he was seated on the rou^h orrass on 
 which his dear daughter had been carefully 
 deposited; holding her head upon his knees, and 
 mingling his prayers of thankfulness to Heaven 
 with ejaculations of terror lest, in spite of all the 
 caution used by Master Francis in hoisting her 
 aloft, some jutting angle of rock might have 
 injured her delicate frame. — Not a regret for the 
 devastation of his projierty ! Not a moan for his 
 granaries, cattle, and household stuff, swept into 
 the great deep ! All his care was for the safety
 
 202 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 of tlie beloved being into whose face he was gazing 
 with yearning eyes, — his good, his dutiful daughter, 
 wlio from her birth till that moment had never 
 occasioned him a pang. — 
 
 So absorbed was lie in that powerful interest, 
 that lie heard distant shouts, — some of triumph, — 
 some of consternation, — to which he gave nor heed 
 nor sympathy. It was only when Priscilla came 
 sufficiently to herself to utter a few articulate words, 
 and her kind heart suggested inquiries after jMartha 
 and Ruth, that he perceived the former and the 
 thresher standing on the extremity of the cliiFs, 
 watching, with extended necks, the progress of 
 those belov;'. — In succession, the cowboy and Long- 
 armed Gib made their aj)pearance, — the former 
 blubbering, tlie latter cursing and swearing. Ruth 
 alone was Avanting to the family group. But 
 where was their deliverer? — Where, where was 
 INIaster Francis ? — 
 
 Alas! the obstinacy and cowardice of the old 
 woman had not only decreed her own doom, but 
 sorely endangered his life. After repeated but fruit-
 
 THE INUNDATION. 203 
 
 less endeavours to make her adopt tlie means of 
 safety which had proved so efficacious to the rest, 
 on finding the ground moistening rapidly under the 
 ladders, he had been forced to leave her to her fate, 
 and hurry up to rejoin the friends to whom his aid 
 was so urgent. 
 
 On reaching the top of the cliffs, he found him- 
 self welcomed with tears and embraces, as one 
 rescued from the dead. They had almost given 
 him up for lost ! — 
 
 A triumphant moment was it, when, in the little 
 group which so joyfully saluted him, Master Francis 
 was able to number five human beinc^s whom his 
 exertions had redeemed from death ! — More trium- 
 phant still, had not the sixth been wanting. — But 
 Job, the last person to quit St. Bee's pulpit pre- 
 vious to the drawfng up of the tackle, announced, 
 on joining the party, that the ground-ladders had 
 slid from their place the moment the upper one to 
 which they were sjiliced, was removed. — The intre- 
 pid director of their measures must have been 
 lost by another minute's delay.—
 
 204 THE IXUNDATIOX. 
 
 " Aud now," said lie, addressing Farmer Atfield, 
 " all that remains is to transport your daughter to 
 Duddonstone" — 
 
 "Heaven only knows how!'' — interrupted the 
 iKjwildered old man. "Between fright, fatigue, 
 and cold, poor Prissy 's slicre doue-np." — 
 
 "The more reason we should get her into shelter 
 before the ruin sets in, for which the skies are again 
 gathering," re-joined his adviser. 
 
 But the farmer, who had been vaiidj^ endeavour- 
 ing to recall his daughter to a sense of her situa- 
 tion, persisted that she was unable to stir a step. — 
 
 "And not a step shall she stir!" — retorted her 
 champion. — And by covering with some tarpaulin 
 which formed part of the salvage materials, one of 
 the ladders wdiich he and his companions had, with 
 so inueh difUculty, transported to the spot, he con- 
 trived an awkward litter ; upon which the still 
 scarcely sensible girl was conveyed on the shoulders 
 of the two fishermen and her father's labourers, 
 relieving each other, with the farmer and ^lartha 
 bringing up the rear. —
 
 THE INUNDATION. 205 
 
 In this guise, they reached Duddonstone ; and 
 could Farmer Atlield liave been susceptible at such 
 a moment of anj^ other feeling than gratitude to 
 God for the escape of his beloved child, he might 
 have experienced some satisfaction in the mode in 
 which he was greeted as they traversed the market- 
 place. It was not alone the hearty cheers which 
 arose when the family — whom their kinsfolk and 
 acquaintance supposed to be lost in the frightful 
 catastrophe, so ruinous to Duddonstone — made their 
 appearance, (unaccountably rescued from a living 
 grave,) that betokened the regard in Avhich thoy 
 were held. — Every house was open to receive them. 
 — The better order of townsfolk vied with each 
 other in offering a home to the family whose all had 
 been swept aAvay. and whose worth and neighbourly 
 kindness had created for them troops of friends, 
 Prissy's rich godmother insisted on taking her into 
 her care. Jacob At field's former landlord all but 
 forced him to take up bis quarters under his roof. — 
 But, above all, " the Parson," the great man of 
 Duddonstone, hurried forth to wish him joy of
 
 206 THE IXUNDATIOX. 
 
 liis escape ; bidding Lis poor old cliurclnvardea 
 remember, that since it was tlie Lord's will to 
 take from liim liis pleasant homo in Dudboui'iie 
 Dale, lie bad another waiting for him at the 
 Vicarage. 
 
 Jacob Atfield could reply to so much goodness 
 only by the eloquence of his overbrimming eyes. — 
 He Avas still too uneasy on PrisciUa's account to 
 do justice to his feelings, or direct the attention of 
 liis friends to his generous preserver ; or he would 
 have perceived, while depositing his chilled and 
 awe-stricken daughter in the chamber of dais of 
 the Nag's Head, that Master Fram-is and the 
 fishermen had disappeared. 
 
 It sufficed to explain to his friends that he was 
 every moment expecting the arrival of his son 
 John and his bride at the inn, to s.iti.-^fy them it 
 was the best place fcr him and Prissy : and, at 
 the instigation of the Duddonstone doctor, the 
 agitated girl was speedily placed in a warm bed, 
 and left to herself. 
 
 Too much lias been already said of the terrible
 
 THE INUNDATIOX. 207 
 
 scenes in Dudbourne Dale, {far too much perhaps 
 for the patience of the reader !) to admit of adverting 
 to tiie horrors related by the farmer, and echoed in 
 sobs by Martha. The \Yhole day scarcely sufficed to 
 desciibe what had occurred, to successive audiences 
 of such of the population as had not proceeded to 
 the mouth of the valley, or summit of the cliffs, to 
 view the scene of desolation. And rumours cf tlie 
 catastrophe having now spread fiir and wide, the 
 peasants of the environs kept flocking in, till the 
 market-place was thi-onged as for a fair. 
 
 But of all this excitement, Priscilla Atfield was 
 happily imconscious. Thanlis to the aid of opiates, 
 she slept, or dosed, throughout the day ; though, 
 for some inexplicable reason at such a time of 
 consternation, the bells of Duddonstone v.'cre ring- 
 ing a merry peal. — It Avas only tovrards evening 
 that a young, fair, and gentle woman, who had 
 been watching for some hours by her bed-side, on 
 seeing her eyes open and her composure completely 
 restored, ventured to whisper, in answer to her anx- 
 ious inq^uiries after her father, — " He is with his
 
 208 THE IXUNDATIOX. 
 
 son, my dear sister. — Thank God, we have arrived 
 iu lime to comfort you under your afilietion ! " — 
 
 Escorted by tlieir friend INIark Egley, the newly- 
 married pair had, in fact, m.ade their appearanco 
 within an hour after the safe arrival of the farmer 
 snd his family ; — thus happily spai'ed the moments 
 of suspense that must have awaited them, if ap- 
 prised of the Dudbourne Dale catastroi^lie while 
 the destinies of those so dear to them were still 
 at stake. 
 
 The emotions attending a family reunion of such 
 a nature, must be left to the imagination of the 
 reader. — Tliat afternoon, the partial subsiding of 
 the Avatcrs on the ebb of the tide, though it did 
 not admit of penetrating into the valley, enabled 
 Farmer Atfield and his son to examine from the 
 adjoining heights the scene of ruin ; when it was 
 ascertained that, though the whole of the old house 
 and a portion of the farm-buildings remained stand- 
 ing, the new mansion was utterly demolished, the 
 embankment and orchard swept away ; and that 
 there was little chance but that the cattle had
 
 TIIU I.NUNDATJO.V. 209 
 
 perished in the flood. — Of Ruth, nothin.2 further 
 could be surmised ; the only indication of a 
 living thing about the premises being afforded by 
 the piteous howling of poor Crony, proceeding from 
 one of the upper rooms. 
 
 Already, Job had petitioned to be slung down at 
 day-break on the morrow, to determine more clearly 
 the state of affairs. And when John Atfield, 
 touched by his generous spirit of enterprise, pressed 
 upon him a handsome sum in remuneration of his 
 previous exertions, — " Na, na, yoong nion ! " was 
 the reply. " Twa penny-fees for one deay's wark 
 be one moor than enoogh ! I've been paid twoice 
 o'or a'ready by my neighbour jMaistcr Francis." — 
 
 " Your friend, tlie keeper of the lighthouse ? " 
 inquired young Atfield, addressing his sister and 
 Mark Egley, Avho had already found worlds to say 
 to each other, on subjects Avhicli the unlucky loss of 
 the London letter, two daj-s before, left unaccount- 
 ably unexplained. — 
 
 " My friend, the keeper of the lighthouse ! " re- 
 plied Mark, affirmatively, when at length his at- 
 
 P
 
 210 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 tention could be obtained.—" And an excellent old 
 fellow, too, I can assure you." — 
 
 « Ilis deeds bave proved it," rejoined young 
 Atfield. " But wbat can account, on the part of a 
 stranger, for all this generous exertion in my 
 father's behalf?" 
 
 " Say in your sisfcr's behalf ! " cried IMart, 
 pressing the hand of Priscilla in his own, a lUtle 
 more tightly than was necessary. " I'm convinced, 
 that all the old man has done for the family, is in 
 
 gratitude for Pr , for IMiss Atfield's kind treat- 
 
 ment of his dumb favourite." 
 
 "I'm afraid, my dear Mark," retorted John 
 Atfield, " that, in the days we live in, men are not 
 quite so chivalrous ! " — 
 
 " Or half such good Samaritans. — Granted ! 
 But how else do you account for the watchfulness 
 which enabled this man to ascertain the exact 
 moment for being of use, and the only mode of 
 effecting his purpose ? " — 
 
 " T/utt we must ascertain from himself ! " re- 
 plied his future brother-in-law, rising as if to go in
 
 THE INUNDATION. 211 
 
 search of In's benef\\ctor; — a little to the discomfiture 
 of ]\Ir3, John, ^Yho seemed to think that, since the 
 county of Cumberland contained such fearful ele- 
 ments of destruction, any Avell-dressed inoffensive 
 young gentleman walking along the Queen's high- 
 way in that mountainous district, might be carried 
 off by a torrent, and heard of no more. But 
 ilai-k Egley laid a detaining hand upon his 
 iriend. — 
 
 " No need to look after him 7i0JV ! " cried he. 
 " Master Francis is off to his business at the light- 
 house; to ^Yhich the Dale-road being cut off, he 
 and those who go in search of him have a wild- 
 goose chase to make, over moorlands, mosses, and 
 stone - walls. — To - morrow, let us all visit him 
 together." — 
 
 lint on the morrow, the visit became needless. — 
 Just as they Avere preparing for the expedition, 
 (the farmer renouncing for that purpose any imme- 
 diate examination into the state of his property, 
 while ]Mrs. John was to occupy the interval of their 
 absence in despatching to INIilbank a brief account 
 
 1- 2
 
 212 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 of thc-ir misfortunes, and entreating Mr. Egley's 
 sanction to their offer of a permanent home to the 
 farmer, -with -whom tlie bridegroom proposed to 
 sliare the hist shilling of his stipend,) a letter was 
 placed in the liands of the old man, which affected 
 him more than all the messages of kindness put 
 together which he had received that mornin"- from 
 his friends. — "With Avliat reason, the reader shall 
 judge. 
 
 " The changes of fifty years," ran the tcnour of 
 the epistle, "by converting two active striplings 
 into grayheaded men, caused us to stand side by 
 side yesterday, — brother, — without your recognizing 
 the unhappy being against whom you have so 
 many causes of offence. — That the inner man 
 of Frank Atfield is as much changed as his face, 
 you will know by the humility with which he now 
 places himself before you, to implore you on his 
 bended knees, to read this letter to an end. — 
 
 " Of my former conduct, brother Jacob, I can 
 tay nothing in excuse, without blackening the 
 memory of one who is gone to her account ; and
 
 THE INUNDATION. 213 
 
 who, ere she died, deserted her husband as wantonly 
 as she had deserted her lover. — This one fact may 
 perhaps convince you that I was the tempted, not 
 the tempter. — The money of which j'ou believe 
 that I deliberately robbed you, I swear before 
 God, was honestly expended in the factory ; 
 which no effort of mine availed to rescue from its 
 involvements. — Not so much as the bare means 
 of maintenance did I carry with me in my flight 
 from Skipton ; and when deserted by the unfor- 
 tunate woman for whose snj^port I was labouring 
 day and night, I vowed to live upon bread and 
 water till, by the sweat of my brow, I earned back 
 the amount of which I had been the means of 
 despoiling my brother. — 
 
 " Half a century has since elapsed. How I have 
 worked, — how I have wanted, — how I hav- 
 hoarded, — would take too long to tell. — Some ten 
 years ago, by adding together the savings of my 
 pay, prize-money, and blood-money, I contrived 
 to make up so nearly the sum, that I took courage 
 to seek you out, — traced you from Skipton to
 
 214 THE INUNDATIO-*. 
 
 Duddonstone,— and was on the point of throwing 
 myself on your mercy, to beg for pardon and 
 peace. — 
 
 " But while praises reached me from every side 
 of your worth and industry, and fondness as a 
 husband and father, I heard also so much of the 
 wrongs you had suffered in early life, and of your 
 implacable resentment, that my courage deserted 
 me, — I saw you from a distance, brother: — my heart 
 yearned towards you, as when we played together 
 at our poor mother's feet. And having seen 
 you, how could I abandon the spot where you 
 were living, and where the children born unto 
 you, who are all that will remain Avith our blood 
 flowinc: in their veins after Ave tAvo are dead and 
 gone, Avere gi'OAA'ing and prospering ? — Just then, 
 the building of the lighthouse Avas determined on. 
 I had friends in the committee at Lloyd's, and was 
 Avell knoAvn at the Admiralty : — I Avill not tell 
 you how Avell known, or you might perhaps think 
 I was bragging ! — Eut I may at least observe that, 
 while serving my OAvn purposes, I have done good
 
 THE INUNDATION. S15 
 
 service to the country. — To cut matters sliort, 
 I applied for tlie place of keeper, and obtained it ; 
 and have since abided near you, breathing the same 
 air, and trusting some favourable chance might 
 yet dissolve the barrier which my own faults 
 have been the means of creating between us. — 
 
 " But why, you will say, reject the olive-branch 
 offered by yourself in that neighbourly gift of 
 fruits of your raising ? — Because the very man 
 who brought it, repeating the words of your servant 
 Ruth, acquainted me I might think the more of 
 the gift, because it was seldom Farmer Atfield 
 extended his hand to a stranger : having been 
 soured in his youth by the ingratitude of a rogue 
 of a brother, to whom he had shown some forbear- 
 ance in not sending him to the gallows ! — 
 
 "Would not your fruit have choked me, had 
 I eaten it under the impression that you still hated 
 and despised me ? — 
 
 " What I experinced when that girl, whom all the 
 country round represented to me as an angel, crossed 
 my threshold, bringing with her her Cither's looks
 
 216 THE INUNDATION, 
 
 and voice, and I dared not fold her to my heart and 
 call her my own dear niece, I will not attempt to 
 tell you. — AVlienever she has since vouchsafed me 
 tokens of kindness, it has been as though a second 
 Spring briglitened my dim old years. 
 
 "And now, brother, to the point of my letter. — 
 Tlie hand of the Ahnighty has deprived you of the 
 hard-earned fruits of your industry. But the sum 
 bequeathed you by my poor father is waiting to 
 replace them ; more tlian doubled by the accumula- 
 tion of interest for the last five-and-forty years. — 
 To repay this sacred debt, I have denied myself all 
 but the bare necessaries of life. You know it, 
 brother ; — for when the parish claimed of me an 
 undue assessment, I told their officer that my 
 wretched slip of ground supplied my maintenance. 
 Great, however, as my privations have been, they 
 are repaid this day ; in the belief that your last 
 years will be rendered happy by the restoration of 
 your own. 
 
 " That you should restore me, in return, the 
 place I once occupied in your love, I neither ask
 
 THE INUNDATION. 317 
 
 nor expect. — But it would be something to know, 
 in the secluded home I have made unto myself, that 
 your thoughts were less bitter against one avIio has 
 expiated, in sackcloth and ashes, the transgressions 
 of his thoughtless youth." — 
 
 Having perused this letter as speedily as was 
 compatible with the untutored simplicity of one who 
 had not, like his brother Frank and his friend Jem 
 Egley, added great experience of tlie world to the 
 homely teaching of his youth, Farmer Atfield was 
 divided between the joy of finding that he should 
 not become a burden on his son, or be forced to 
 diminish a shilling of Prissy's fortune in bestowing 
 her upon IMark, (who, with his grandfivther's per- 
 fect approbation, had already asked her hand ;) and 
 of discovering that the brother, his implacable 
 resentments against whom had often Aveighed upon 
 his conscience, still lived, to forgive and be for- 
 given. 
 
 "With as little circumlocution as the occasion 
 admitted, he now related to his son, and future son- 
 in-law, the repentance and atonement of that
 
 218 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 beloved brother Frank, who, tempted by a woman, 
 had expiated his weakness like a man. — 
 
 "Let us go to him this moment!" — cried John 
 Atfield. — "Let us bring him here, to become one of 
 uSj as though he had never been estranged ! " — 
 
 " And only let the old fellow need the support of 
 Twy right arm in the cares or struggles of life!" 
 cried Mark, rising to bear him company. — " But for 
 Jiim, my poor Prissy might be at this moment beat- 
 ing about among the surges of this confounded 
 coast ! " — 
 
 Priscilla, too, and Eose, entreated permission to 
 bear them company in their expedition to the light- 
 house. — 
 
 But the farmer chose to go alone. " The 
 errand is mine!" said he. "No one but Him 
 above must witness the meeting betwixt the 
 brothers!" — 
 
 It was a sad disappointment to the young couples 
 when, many hours afterwards, and in the dusk of 
 evening, the old man returned, alone, from his visit ; 
 — evidently so powerfully moved, that they scarcely
 
 InE INUNDATION. 219 
 
 liked to express tlieir vexation. — Mark was, as 
 usual, tlie first wlio spoke out. 
 
 '•' You sliould liave brought liiin Lack with you, 
 sir ! " said he. '• Consider how eager we are to 
 express our gratitude to him who preserved your 
 life, and that of our dear Priscilla." 
 
 " How was he to quit his post at the lighthouse r" 
 demanded the farmer. — "Though lame Moggy 
 boasts of having discharged his duties during his 
 absence yesterday, Frank wouldn't be persuaded 
 to trust her again. But you'll see him to-morrow 
 mornin', children, you'll see him to-morrow mornin'. 
 And what's more, you'll soon see him for good and 
 all. — My bi'other's agreed to give up his place, and 
 we're to jog on together to the end of our days. — 
 I'm not made, Johnny, for the town -life to which 
 you, and my old friend at Milbank, and Prissy's 
 husband, there, ha' been good enough to invite me. 
 — I 'm country - born, — country - bred. — To live 
 aught'where but i' the country, 'ud shorten my old 
 days." 
 
 •* At all events, sir," exclaimed Mark, " don't tell
 
 220 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 lae that you're going to risk your life again by 
 l)uildin<T^ UD the ohl house in Duclbournc Dale ! " — 
 
 "No, lad ! — The Almighty has laid a finger o' 
 -wratli o' the place, and I care not ever to see it 
 again. — I couldn't a-bear it. — Mj poor old servant 
 was found this afternoon a corpse among the ruins, 
 with our faithful dog watching, moaning by her 
 side."— 
 
 " Poor Ruth ! " — murmured Priscilla, mingling 
 with lier tears a thankful thought of those who 
 had preserved her from the same destiny. — 
 
 " And so," resumed the A\rmer, endeavouring to 
 clear his glistening eyes, "Frank and I've deter- 
 mined, (sin' at three score years and ten we're to 
 begin the Avorld again,) to go back to our native 
 place, and buy ourselves some cozy nook at Skip- 
 ton, where we may sit in the chimney-corner and 
 talk over old times. — Tiic house need'nt be so 
 small, children, but tliat there '11 be place for all o' 
 you, (and plenty o' grandchildren too, I hope,) 
 when you come [^and spend your Christmas-time 
 with the two old fellows ; who '11 have nothing
 
 THE INUNDATION. 221 
 
 else to look forward to but your happiness in 
 life."— 
 
 Johnny Atliekl felt a little disappointed at a pro- 
 ject which he knew Vv-ould be a sad mortification to 
 tlie house of Harmer, Egley, and Co. — But he had 
 never yet ventured to contend with his father's 
 determinations. — 
 
 " At all events, my dear father," said he, " you 
 and Prissy will return with us in a day or tAvo, 
 to set j\Ii-. Egley's fears at rest, and celebrate my 
 sisters wedding under his roof ? — My uncle will be 
 able, during your absence, to get through your 
 business hereabouts ; and change of scene is abso- 
 lutely necessary to my sister." — 
 
 '' 'We shall neither of us be the worse for 't, I 
 f:incy ! " rejoined the okl man, with a sigh. — " In 
 a few days time, therefore, we '11 be off. — But I 
 must first go and spend a day at the liglitliouse. 
 I've promised Frank, to sleep under the roof wliere 
 he 's passed such cheerless days, such sleepless 
 nights." 
 
 And Mark and Priscilla earnestly entreated to
 
 222 THE INUNDATION. 
 
 be of the part}-. — IIow large a share did that same 
 interdicted lighthouse maintain in tlie history of 
 their courtship ! — 
 
 "Best leave us to ourselves!" rejoined the 
 farmer — " Young wlieat and okl don't thresli well 
 together ; and Frank and I 've a deal o' life to live 
 over again. — Somehow or otiier, I don't seem to 
 feel as if I could ever see enough o' my brother." 
 
 " Then all is well !" whispered Pi-iscilla to him 
 who seemed to feel he could never see enough of 
 her. — " But fur the fate of poor Iluth, I should 
 almost be reconciled to the Inundation, which, 
 among so mau}^ evils, has v/rought this mighty 
 good !"— 
 
 "Not a word of the evils now V rejoined the 
 farmer, alFectionately kisoing lier forehead. " This 
 day, my child, — nay, this whole Cliristmas-tirae, — is 
 sacred to Pardon and Pk.vck." 
 
 THE E N D. 
 iCKrcw : fMisiiD ST ■wittorcEBT & co., ce ^•sn-aTVLVO.
 
 This book is DUE on the last 
 date stamped below 
 
 JUL 2215 
 
 OkL> 
 
 lOm-4,'28
 
 PR 
 A725 GoTQ - 
 HrRT The 
 
 JC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 inundation. 
 
 AA 000 378 164 8 
 
 Gc5L 
 
 UMVERSITY of CALIFORNU 
 
 AT 
 LOS ANGEI^ES
 
 
 
 ^f«7t'^' 
 
 
 •^^. V^^ V 
 
 ;i 
 
 '^'v 
 
 
 tiiiii