IfC-NRLF B 4 10? sea THE PEER AND THE BLACKSMITH. A TAILI. R. BEDINGFIELD, ESQ. AUTHOR OF " THE MISER'S SON," " MARK LATIMER," &c. &c. WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS. J=^iyi^T E2>lTfO/\f. LONDON: n. THOMPSON, JAMES STREET, GRAY'S INN LANE; STRANGE, PATERNOSTER-ROW ; BERGER, HOLYWELL-STREET ; AND ALL BOOKSBLLBRS. c;%44r:a DEDICATION. TO W. M. THACKERAY, Esq. My dear Thackeray, Had I known a man of more liberal views and generous sentiments than yourself, I would have dedicated this tale of the "Peer and the Blacksmith" to him. " A sound thinker, with a clear head, and an honest heart" — as has been said of you so justly, I feel myself honored in claiming a slight degree of consanguinity with you. Happy shall I be if the result of my labours should meet with your approbation ; for you have never been a one-sided critic either on books or men. Were I to add all the senti- ments I entertain towards you, men might think I had some object in view in dedicating my book to such a one : but my motive in doing so (and it is a selfish one, I confess), is to join my name with yours. That you may long continue to enliven with your cheer- fulness, to amuse with your humour, to elevate with your wit, IWllJ^lSl DEDTCATIOV. and to ameliorate with your kind philosophy, I most earnestly desire. Were I asked to point out a man (there are many skam men, alas !), I should say here is one — the generous, the gentle, and the brilliant. I am proud to say he is the friend and cousin of — Richard Bedingfield. Upper Montaqu Street, Scptcihbcr 1814. ^ , - V 7f .91189b 9rfi ,3iioi9n^ '^ - ■' ,9!in»g l>nai'i1 5 ill INTRODUCTION. The object of the Author in writing this work was, as has been already stated in the Advertisements, to impress a moral on the people. The mischievous effects of oli£;"archy are still felt amon^ us ; but new powers have arisen in the State, ncAv principles been developed ; and civilization having' proceeded thus for, in spite of the obstacles opposed to its pro- gress, it remains to be seen what the diffusion of science can do, when it is universalized. There are two enemies to human progress, namely despotism and anarchy. Both result from ignorance and want of faith ; and never can they be annihilated, while there remain such discordant interests among us, and while the people and their rulers look with dis- trust on each other. Crime begets crime : and from the insubordination of the masses, and the crushing physical force of the government, our polity is based on the falsest, the weakest, the vilest of principles. And what shall regenerate society ? Ask the Conservative, and he will shrug his shoulders. He has MO remedy for the evils so apparent ; but when they assume a palpable shape, and march in the form of a million men, he can tell you what to do well enough. And the Chartist with the million men — ask him what he would do ' Destroy the Constitution ? Hurl the Monarch down, destroy the Peers, and remodel the Commons ? Excellent well I If by so doing he can make all happy, wise, virtuous and affluent, for Heaven's sake let us have a Republic 1 But every rational man knows that a government must be adapted to a people, not a people to a government ; and when the time has come, as surely as thunder follows lightning, the people will rule. They are now not fit to rule, alas ! It is not the fault of the people that they are ignorant ; and ignorant they cannot remain. If every honest man in the world could tell what he wanted to have done, we rfiould soon cease to have parties i but who knows what he wants? One man says the Repeal of the Corn Laws will do this, another the Ballot will do that ; and so on vsque ad injinitum ! But he who regards the actual state of things with VI INTUODIiniON. the eye of the philosopher, shakes his head at the cries of paities. Can he tell what sliould be done, then ? He only knows what oufjht not to be done. Plato has shown how much easier it is to detect error than to lind truth. Yet on the whole in all things " we have too much knowledge for the sceptic side :" and it does not become us to remain idle, when if every man were otherwise than idle, and honest withal, we should have nothing to contend with. Ay, thei'e it is : we want to make all men honest and active, and we know not how to do it. Christianity itself has for the most part proved inoperative to this end ; but there is the only liope after all, when people know what it is. Christianity is the philo- sophy of human destiny : by it alone the mighty man is made good, and the good man mighty, and the absence of its vivifying influence is con- spicuous in the counsels of the wise, and the deeds of the simple. There never would be want and crime in the world if all men were Christians. But we have had so much bigotry and fanaticism to oppose true religion, so much contention about articles of faith, and forms and dogmas, that l^ractical piety has sig'hed to think that hj'^pocrites should " prate of re- ligion with a devil's tongue," and desponded of man on earth. My object, then, may now be seen. I have shown what theoretical atheism leads to, in " The Miser's Son ;" in the " Peer and the Black- smith," practical atheism is developed. And let me observe, that practi- cal atheism, and not theoretical infidelity, has been the bane of huma- nity. You may be prepared for an open enemy ; but how can j'ou be so against the foe who assassinates in the dark ? But it is not only Rulers who have for centuries exhibited an indif- ference for the good, moral and physical, of the human race. The poor also, not having thought, have neg'lected to observe that we aie all brethren ; they have neglected to love their enemies, and to do good to those who persecute them. Such a manifestation of dignified virtue could hardly be expected of them ; and rancour and hatred have been busy, producing the germs of those deplorable revolutions which never have done, and never can do anything to afford permanent relief to the poorer classes. Mr. Carlyle, in his work of " Past and Present," has dwelt much on this subject : and it is to be lamented that such a writer should not be more popular than he is : but a fault in style, and a certain peculiar way of thinking, disgust the many when they take up his works. Nevertheless, he is the leader of our thinking men; and a worthy one. Yes, the divine truth is growing apace every day : the worship of Principles is beginning. This is the religion I wish all men would hold, whether they profess faith or infidelity : — there can be no mistake in what is good and right, only in the means of doing them. And now having dwelt enough on the political and theological portion of my tale, I will add a few words on some of the principal characters, INTROKICTIOX. vn introduced for the purpose of aflFording- nn insiglit into the liumnn heart, and interesting-, while instructing — as far as I am ahle — the reader. I heard Mr. W. J. Fox remark, that it is to the younj^ we must look for the carrying: out of those principles which those of the present generation enunciate. Mr. Fox, I apprehend, would imply that those who follorv us have greater advantag-es than those who precede us : and he is right. A pag-e is added to the great book of human destiny : but how much easier is it to think than to act! How easy for a man to point out the beauties of Shakspeare, but how almost impossible to realize them. Reginald Travers belongs to Young England ; his father is represented as one of that class of thinkers influenced by no philosophical sect, but tolerant and catholic ; and these two men are contrasted by Lord Wharton and his brother. I am inclined to believe that Novelists have made a mistake in sacri- ficing many to one ; and it has been my object here to develope each character as far as possible, and exhibit its relations with others. The sequency of events is evolved through the instrumentality of these, — these agents are operated on by pi^nciples : and evei-y principle should be made apparent. Therefore I have dwelt more than is usual on the actual opinions of men ; and I hope I have been tolerably impartial in my estimate of things. Let me find good anywhere, and I will adore it. This book will please no partisan : it was not written with such a view, and cannot accomplish anything of the sort. It will not please the bigot in religion, and yet I have not charged all who are bigoted with being hypocrites : it will not please the unbeliever, but I have never im- puted his unbelief to him as a crime. The chai'acter of Lord Wharton will offend many a modem statesman : but I put it to any impartial per- son if I have exaggerated his crimes at the expense of truth ? Neither will the Democrat like John Jenkins : yet he is not hyperbolical. I want to make no monsters for my own pvirposes, but to depict man as he is — which is the sole legitimate province of the poetic Romancist. Nor do I think all statesmen and all democrats are bad and desperate men. There have been honest and noble minds among them, though they have been mistaken. Carlyle says, he would hail the era with joy when all men could be Conservatives. In the delineation of the Prince Regent, I have been careful to abstain from the darkest shades of the picture, though I have not glossed over his glaring faults. Travers Wharton and the brutal Blacksmith are meant to be the worst characters in the tale, and the former, in the Author's opinion, is the worst of the two — for placed in a position which afforded him the means of fame and honour, he has not a redeeming quality. — In the characters of Stephen and Nell, without romance, or high ideal perfection, are realised all that can exalt human nature, Vin INTRODUCTIOX. thotig'li placed in the worst of circumstances :— but the Author must not bo his own Critic. It is for the l^cjtder to judge whether in the delineation of Greatness in Lord ^^■harton (but greatness only in one sense), of Madness in poor Harriet, and Revenge in Sharp, he has evinced a knowledge of the mysteries of the heart. That heart is deeper than the ocean, and God alone can fathom all its enigmas. THE Peer antr t!)e iSIatitiSmitib: GREATNESS, MADNESS, AND REVENGE. ^<^ CHAPTER I. A BAD ROAD THE TRAYELLKR AND THK SMITH NELL. T was on a dark November evening, some minutes after sunset, that a traveller was wending his way through one of those lonely tracts, which were not very uncommon at the time "we write of in many of our counties, but have nearly vanished from the face of the country, OAving to the dense jiopulation which now crowds every portion of the king-dom. The road was execrablj' bad, presenting ruts and huge stones at eveiy other steji ; and a fog had arisen, which obscured the faint light that yet remained ; so that his predicament, with eveiy prospect of a heavy rain supei-vening, and not a house or place of shelter far as the eye could reach, was somewhat unjlea-ant. Yet he stepped on briskly, in spite of the obstacles which opposed his progress : and indeed it was not a slight impediment that could have placed a difficulty not to be surmounted by such a man. In age he had numbered apparently about six-and-thirty years : bis height was betwixt the ordinary and the very tall, yet though not more than five feet eleven, so great was the breadth of his chest, so erect his bearing-, and so imposing the strength and grandeur of his form, that he could not have looked insignificant by the side of a giant. His face was not what is usually termed handsome, but it was yet more remarkable for power, as regarded its intellectuality, than his figure. The brow was broad and massive, indicating strong 1. B 2 . THE PEER AND Ti.K BLACKSMITU. . determination. and energ^y of character, without liigli enthusiasm or inia- ginatifjn.- H'hs eye was rancher large, and dark, penetrating-, and thouglit- fuT, tliough it'was difficult to read tlie cog-itations within ; the nose was not well formed, being- his least peculiar feature, but tlie nostrils of it were wide, as those of almost all such men are ; and the lines which surrounded the mouth, and the mouth itself, would alone have stamped his countenance as that of a person whose mind was aspiring, powerful and vigorously commanding. The dress which he had on was plain, but handsome and gentlemanly, such as was worn in common by the higher class at that day, and had evidently emanated from the shop of a Bond Street tailor ; but it Was unpretending and jdain, as has been said, nevertheless. " Confound these roads," muttered the traveller to himself as he nearly stumbled into a ditch, owing to the insufficient light and the unevenness of the road. " I will bring in a bill to have them extirpated from the land when I return to town. And yet," he continued, with a dark and icy sneer, " it is not likely I shall ever traverso sucli again, imder the same circumstances ; and there is no reason why I shoidd labour for the benefit of others. I do not pretend to broad philanthropy of disposition — what cabinet minister ever really possessed two grains of humanity, how- ever great his pretensions to it ?" Large drops of freezing rain were now fiilling, and our traveller strained his keen sight to the uttermost to discover some habitation in which to take refuge. The darkness became more and more intense — not a star, not a transient light in earth or heaven assisted him in his progress, and it was hardly possible to place one foot before another without stumbling into some hole or dashing the luckless member against a stone ; for by this time it would have been difficult for a cat to see its way. But presently the rain fell furiously, and the thunder and lightning pealed and flashed, and by the evanescent light of the latter, the traveller was enabled to see a low hut or hovel at the distance of half a mile, located in a valley that slept beneath a barren hill; and instantly made for it, unpromising as was its aspect. When he was about a hundred paces from this squalid dwelling, he beheld by the light- ning a little urchin, ragged and dirty, of about six years old, and rather diminutive of liis age, amusing himself by running into a pond, the waters of which were swelling with the rain, utterly regaidless of the weather and obscurity. He was one of those hardy, active children, whose health is so robust and constitution so perfect, that they are not materially alfected by any exposure to the inclemency of the elements, and who seem organized by nature to sustain the rude shocks witli which they ai-e assailed in their laborious life. Pei'ceiving tlie gentleman when he was within a dozen vards of the THiC I'EEU ANO TIIK HLACKSMITIJ. 3 pond in which he was splashing' with such zest, the child made an attempt at a bow, and ceased jumping in the muddy water. " Is there any house but the hovel I see there, my boy, near this place ?" asked the traveller of the urchin. "Eh, sir!"' returned the child, looking up into his face with some intelligence. " ^^'hy yes, sir, there is." " I will give you something if you will guide me to it, then, if it is any better than this wretched hut, which I suppose hardly excludes the wet when it falls so heavily as it does now." The urchin laughed at this observation. " O, granny and me lives there," he said. " But what sort of a house d'ye want, sir?" " Do you know of a blacksmith in the neighboiu-hood ?" " To be sure I do ! Jenkins the smith lites yonder. But some folks are afraid of he." " Why afraid of him, child ? Take me to him, and I will give you a shilling." "Thank'ee, sir! A whole shilling for myself! O, I'll take you to him." The little fellow started off so briskl}'', excited at the idea of obtaining such a remuneration for his services, that the traveller had some difficulty in keeping up with him at a moderate pace, "These are the peasantry," he thought, "out of whose toil we fatten and wax mighty. They are formed to buffet with the tempest, and after all they may be happier in their vocation than the wealthy and proud." As he thus mused, the fury of the storm abated in some degree, but the rain still fell fiercely ; and the high-born gentleman did not much admire the soaking he was exposed to, Herculean as was his frame, ■ and mature his manhood, while the child of poverty ran on by his side as unconcerned as if it had been summer weather, and delighted with the idea of having so large a sum as a " whole shilling" for himself, to lay out in cakes and apples. Strange diversities of human existence ! when custom so entirely changes the thoughts and feelings which make us what we are. By way of saying something to his little guide the traveller exclaimed — " And why are some people afraid of Jenkins, the smith, my man ?" " Ah !" replied the urchin mysteriously and confidentially ; " they do say he has to do with the devil — he's a terrible person ! There now you may see the light of his forge ! Don't you hear his hammer 1 There isn't a man in all the world that can use his big hammer but himself." " There is the shilling I promised you, little one. You had better not stay out such a night as this." " Thank'ee, sir !" cried the urchin, joyously, as he received the pro- mised recompence from the stranger, and bounded away with it as if he had obtained the riches of the East. 4 THE VEER A?(D THE BLACKSMITH, The lurid flame of a blacksmitli's forge was now distinct through the gloom, and advancing farther in a straight line, the traveller soon beheld a man engaged at the anvil, whose appearance was as uncommon in some respects as his o^vn. It was a singular sight to behold the dark fonn of the smith, as he wielded a heavy hammer with perfect ease, seeming in the midst of the fire, which had a strange look from the fog and dark- ness, and shot up with noise and glitter, while the bellows groaned in xmison with the distant and angiy rumbling of the thunder : and the stranger paused for an instant to sui'vej^ his stalwart person, and admire the strength and dexterity with which he pursued his occupation. The smith was a man probably ten years older than the traveller, and although two inches shorter, was fully as broad across the chest, and powerful in the whole proportions. But his want of the stranger's height made him appear awkward and unwieldy in comparison, — the other, though rather stout, being perfectly symmetrical; — yet there was a savage power in his swarthy lineaments which redeemed the coarseness and vulgarity of his appearance, even though it added ferocity to it. Except that he was of lower stature, he was exactly the sort of man Danton, the bloody and brutal coUeague of Robespierre, is represented to have been, with the same sort of animal courage in his stern and repulsive face, and with the same characters of rude imcultivated intellect which distinguished the popular demagogue of the sanguinary French Revolution, and whose physical powers and stentorian lungs could sway a rabble's passions more than the subtlety of a Marat and the plausibility of the arch villain whose iniquity caused such an effusion of blood. He too was the fellow of all others to be the leader of a mob, and would have been a most formidable antagonist to the sturdiest soldier that ever breathed. The stranger advanced then to the burly smith and said — " Good evening, friend. I want you to go and see after my horse, which I have left a mile hence, so lame that he cannot move a step." The blacksmith raised his eyes and glanced at the person who had accosted him, with brightness and even penetration in his look : but there were few who liked to encounter the calm, searching gaze of that man who stood before the forge; and suffering his own to fall, Jenkins answered in a deep, hoarse voice from the chest, which sounded not unlike the thunder — " These are awkward roads for those to travel in the dark who don't know them. I will send a lad to look at your horse directly. Ho, Stephen!" " Stephen isn't at home," answered a female from within, the tones of whose voice w-ere far from unmusical, and most dissimilar from the smith's. " Has he gone out with Jack, then ?" asked Jenkins. TUK PEER AND THE ULACKSMITH. O " I believe he lias," replied the same person, who now made her ap- pearance. She was a pretty, clever-looking girl, with something of sadness, something of radiance in her face, which attracted the traveller's notice, accustomed as he was to exercise his physiognomical acquirements fre- quently. " And Where's your mother, Nell ?" said the smith. " She's at home?" " No ; she went to the village about an hour ago." " "Well, I suppose I must go and look to the horse myself," rejoined the blacksmith. " Where have you left him, sir?" The traveller described the spot in which he had left his steed tied to a tree, and after the delay of a minute, Jenkins set out, telling his cus- tomer to walk into the house, and bidding the g'irl he had addressed as Nell to draw a jug of ale for him. He whispered something in addition to hei-, and casting a slightly sinister glance at the traveller, whose back was turned to him, quitted the smithy. CHAPTER II. THE STATESMAN AND XELL — "MEMORIES THAT MAKE THE HEART A TOMB." Well, my dear," said the traveller as he seated himself beside a blazing fire almost emulating that of the forge, and addressing the girl, who was placing before him some cold meat, bread, cheese, and ale; "so you are the smith's daughter ?" " Yes, sir," was the response. " You are not much like your father, pretty one ! He is as black as midnight, while you look like early morning." The young girl smiled, perhaps not displeased at the compliment, coming from such a person, and in smiling she revealed a set of even teeth as white as snow. She was veiy pretty, certainly, and her beauty was not ^'ulgar, if it was not refined, while there was an expression in her intelligent face which, the more it was beheld, irresistibly won on the heart. The stranger continued to g-aze at her with the eye of a connoisseur, and something of a sensualist also. She was not tall, but it was probable that her stature might yet increase, and her form was just ripening into the full and consummate grace of womanhood ; but promised to be more voluptuous as she left her girlhood behind. Her hair was a deep auburn, which almost seemed black when it did not catch the light, and fell in natural curls over her ivoiy neck, one ringlet floating over her welling bosom, — her eyes were of the deepest, darkest hazel, her nose 6 TIIK I'EER AND THE BLACKSMITH. straig-ht and small, her forehead wide, though not high, and as smooth and polished as marble ; and her complexion was exquisitely white yet healthy. She was just the sort of girl he admired, — without beings dazzlingly beautiful, but animated and finely formed, — and he soon gave her unequivocal tokens that he did so, " And how old are you, my dear ?" he asked, with that species of insinuating- impertinence which men of the world, of his rank and age, think themselves privileged to use towards females of Nell's years and station, and in which they seldom meet a rebuff. " I suppose I am not quite half your age," she replied, laughing-. " Indeed, saucy one ! And how old do you think I am V " Between thirty and forty — middle aged — I am sixteen." " Tolerably guessed : but you won't think me middle aged when you are twenty and I forty. Won't you eat Avith me?" " No, I thank you," answered the girl, but not leaving the room, and seeming to wish to say something which she knew not how to communi- cate. " Well, sit down by me," said the unknown. " I never let a pi'etty girl stand behind my chair. Did I hear your father call you Nell ?" " That is my name." " Helen Jenkins ! The latter is not very euphonious. My dear, you deserve a better appendage to the Helen. Should you like to go to London ?" The girl looked steadily into the stranger's face, but did not speak. " I dare say I could get you a situation there," he continued. " I know a worthy milliner who is in the habit of receiving young girls from the country." " O, indeed !" cried Nell, with bitter sarcasm, Avhich astonished the man of the world, coming from one in her situation. " I have heard of your London milliners who engage in the traffic of human flesh ; and sell the bi'ightest things of all this earth — virtue, innocence and i)urity — to those black demons in human form who try to sui-pass Hell itself in the indulgence of their iniquity. Those who entrap the poor Africans from their country and sell them for slaA es are merciful in comparison with such fiends !" "Ha!" exclaimed the traveller with a cold sneer, "you are learned, I perceive. I hope j^ou have not experienced already the foul arts you vent your indignation against with such eloquence !" " 1 have not," answered Nell, sternly, drawing up her figure to its full height, " and rather than submit to be polluted for gold, look j'ou" — (and she drew a dagger from her bosom, much to the increased surprise of her father's guest) — " I would plunge this into my heart. I would f>tab any villain too, without hesitation, whom I thought to be a seducer." The traveller laughed orutright . THE I'KER AND THE BLACKSMITH. / " Pretty female Quixote !'' he exclaimed. " You will have to murder some three millions of men in Enj^-land alone, then, if you fulfil your threat. I myself am not acquainted with a dozen persons who would not take advantag;e of their natural g"ifts, to enjoy the <^low of rapture which forbidden pleasure can afford ! By Jove ! I would not trust myself with you alone for four-and-twenty hours — I should assiu-edly be wounded mortally both in tqj heart and chest." " Would you?" replied Nell, " perhaps not." " Ah ! you would not stab me, eh ? You would heal the wound inflicted with your eyes, and throw the cold steel away with the cold cruelty." " You would not dare to breathe a woi*d of unholy passion in my ear," replied the singular girl, fixing her bright eyes calmly again on the stran- ger's face. " I don't know ! I have whispered words which I suppose you would call niikoli/ into the ear of a duchess. But I am not a professed seducer now ; so sheathe your dagger." " A duchess ! there are painted harlots in the halls of the miscalled ff/'cat to whom it would not be one-millionth part the crime to talk as you describe, as it would be to address a country milkmaid. Have you never seen the misery wliich man's infernal treachery brings blithe youth and g-irlhood to t Have you never seen the hollow cheek, and the wild, fi'enzied eye, the hag-gard features and the withered form, eloquent beyond words, of anguish and desolation, which are indeed unspeakable ? Have you never thought of the burning fever, the madness, and the suicide ? — Crime with its catalogue of disease, miser}'-, despair and early death ! Has this never haunted you ? O the horrors which the victims of foul lust inevitably experience ! Man is not punished here, for the laws of society are false and vile ; woman exjiiates her sin in this world. But if you have thought on these things, and j^et continued in yoiir career of crime, you are a wretch unworthy to burden this fair woi-k of God's hand — this glorious w'orld : and I tell you I would not save your life if I would not take it." " \''ou are eloquent — very eloquent in your way !" cried the stranger, who during Nell's long harangue had been gazing on the ground, many unfathomable feelings casting strange shadows on his haughty face. " Yes," he continued, scarcely addressing the blacksmith's daugh- ter, " I have spent a proud and brilliant youth of intellect and strength and power in the wild excitement of burning passion. I have sacrificed my ambition before the altar of beauty, and hurled away all other things as dust for smiles of loveliness. Shall I now cast from me all other thoughts which interfere with the fruition of the present ? I coi/ld do so ; but it must be for the sake of one my soul could worship — not the inanity and folly of courtly dames who disport like butterflies in the sun, and are 8 THE PEER AXD THE BLACKSMITH. inconstant as the gales of spring'. And have I repented me of the past ? I have grown weary of a repetition of triumphs, yet not of the joys themselves. For what were this life woi-th, without the sunshine of woman's presence to tliaw the ice that grows around the heart ? Wliat are its restless struggles, its fevei-ed dreams, its gigantic schemes and energies, spent for a world which must be despised, and to be rewarded with curses, coldness or ingratitude, disappointment and disgust its ever- lasting shadows? No, while I can, I will bask in the light of beauty's eye. I will live and die, adoring the brief, but thrilling felicities of passion, like a worthy follower of Mahomet and Solomon — two of the greatest spirits that ever led intellect and feelings in their chains. — Ha, ha, ha ! "Wlio would believe that a Minister of State has been talking sentiment with the daughter of a dirty blacksmith, to no purpose ? But you are not a common girl, Nell, and are worthy of filling a higher station than that which you now occupy. A woman of your beauty would be inestimable to me, if educated to assist in my pohtical in- trigues." " In what way ?" asked the girl, who had listened to what the states- man had been saying with breathless interest ; for there was something in all he spoke and looked — in the tones of his deep clear voice — in the glance of his eagle eye — in the flashing of his high spirit — which had often commanded the intense attention of a senate, and they were alto- gether new to one like Nell; and while he described the life he had spent, even though her fine eyes sparkled with indignation during what was in fact ebullient thought not intended for her, she could not but admire the fluent sentences spoken with just elocution and fervour — his natural and not acquired oratory. But before a reply could be given to her question, a female entered the smithy. She w as a tine woman, but with a stern, masculine, and almost savage countenance, though Nell resembled her in some resjiects. She was of middle age, or nearly so, and seemed muscular and vigorous. She was a fit helpmate for the brawny blacksmith, and such she was. The stranger had finished his repast, and rose from his seat as the new comer entered. "The weather seems improving," he said, as he Avent towards the fire: and as he did so Nell passed him, as if by accident, and whisjiered, " Don't remain here!" He looked at her for an explanation ; but she walked away as if she had said nothing, leaving her mother and the stranger together. " Have you any iim near this place?" inquired the statesman of the smith's wife, as Nell vanished. " No," was the reply, " not within six miles :" and Mrs. Jenkins pro- ceeded to take an accurate but stealthy survey- of the stranger's person. " I know not what I shall do then," he exclaimed, " for my horse is THK PEEU AXU THE BLACKSMITH. 9 a me ; and m this dense darkness I should hardiy be able to find my way, I suppose?" This was said in order to elicit something whereby he could interpret what the girl had just said to him. " O," said Mrs. Jenkins, " I dare say you can have a bed in this house if you like. It's a terrible nig-lit, that's certain." A peculiar trait in the character of our traveller was his love of adventure, which in his j'outh had run away with all discretion, and even now sometimes got the better of his acquired prudence. " I will stay," he thought to himself, while revolving the whispered words of Nell. "Hang it! with the brace of pistols I carry, and the lirm heart I bear, I should be a match for any three men in the world : and after all, I know not if I am to apprehend personal violence. It is impossible to proceed along these roads without breaking- my neck — and — I am strongly interested in that extraordinary girl, who, though her head is stuffed with romance nonsense, is clever and amusing, and very pretty. I 7viU stay." And having made up his mind to do so, it would not have been a trifle that could have shaken his resolution. The blacksmith returned in the course of ten minutes after his wife, and addi-essing the stranger, he said — " I have seen your horse, sir, and doctored him a bit. I have left him in a shed till to-morrow, and I hope he Mill be able to walk here by then. My son, John, will then see to him ; he is a far better farrier than I am." " Very well. I am going to stay with j'ou until the morning." " I'm glad of it," said Jenkins. " My old woman will try and make you comfortable. I wonder," he added to his partner, " why John and Stephen don't come home." Mrs. Jenkins rephed in a voice which was inaudible to the stranger ; but the smith's brow darkened, and he muttered, " It's well, if they don't get into a d — d scrape." He again turned his attention to his guest and said — " I suppose you've never been in these parts before, sir ?" " Many years ago I travelled through them," was the reply. " Deborah !" exclaimed Jenkins to his wife, " you had better go and air the bed for Mr. 1 don't think you have mentioned your name, sir ?" " My name is Wharton," answered the stranger, smiling. The smith started, 4)ut said not another word, and soon afterwards left the room. Deborah Jenkins then also disappeaied, calling her daughter to her. Wharton was thus left to his solitary cogitations. He watched the burning coals as they assumed wild and fantastic shapes, which an attenuated imagination might have moulded into demon.s, and memories 10 THE PEER AND THE BLACKSMITH. bitter and corroding stole upon him, as they frequently do when we indulge in reverie by the side of the wintry fii'e. There were forms of grace, which lay wasting in corruption before his mind's eye, there were looks of love quenched for ever, there were tones which thrilled his heart, and words which were written in indelible characters upon his soul, all hushed, all gone, never, never to return again. The statesman still kept his eyes steadfastly on the fire, and the snake was gnawing within ; but he was not one to droop beneath real or ideal sorrows, and he wrestled with the fiend which he had himself created. He strove to avert his thoughts from the channels in which they had been flowing ; but they still returned to the gone with its vanished glories, as he turned his associations into reflections thus — " Time was," he inwardly exclaimed, " when I used to shape out from these idle things dreams — cherished dreams of unreal, unattainable joy ! Then the piUse beat high, and the blood coursed fiercely through my veins, and love, and danger, and strange adventure were my most enthralling pastimes. And still I am young ; my heart is colder, but my head is stronger : and I can find delight in the pleasures I sought of old. But, oh ! how diiferent are my feelings now. Where is the elasti- city, the lightness and the swiftness of my spirit ? I dream no more ; but advance sternly in the path of ambition, though I know all this world can give will never satisfy the panting thirst for felicity which possesses my being. I dash from my brain the haunting memories of the past, and — I am miserable — most miserable still." The statesman (for indeed lie iilled no unimportant oflice in the then existing administration of the nation) folded his arms across his expan- sive chest : and again some recollection of the departed added a sadness to the g'loom of his magnificent brow, and indeed to all his visage. " Poor thing," he muttered audibly, " I never loved any but her !" Once more his imagination recurred to the shapes of the j^eopled past, and one above all — a proud and beautiful form radiant in youth and grace and joy arose before him. He clasped it to his bosom — he whispered words of passion — he wooed — and won her. And then he beheld the same fair object wan and pale, her face haggard, and M'ith frenzy gleaming in her eye — tall, gaunt, and ghost-like. And the un- hajipy one poured dark maledictions upon him, cursed his treachery with bitter eloquence, showed the ravages which grief had made on her charms, and then seemed to sink from him, like a vision of the night, which goes we know not how, but leaving terriblf and scathing marks upon the brain — how unlike the mists of sleep, that sei-ve only to enhance present enjoyment, as the dark shades in a picture add splendour to the hues of morning. He averted his ej'cs resolutely from the fire, and raising them on a sudden, uttered a wild cry. TlIK PKKK AND Tllli HLA(;K.SMITII . 11 CHAPTER III. THE POACHERS — AN AFFRAY. " Here, Tom, you stand by the oak and keep a sharp look out. Jack Thompson, you've g^ot more brains than the other boobies, short as ye are ! Take that felloAV, who is big' enoug-h to eat any poacher in Eng- land, and keep by the high wall theie. I and the other two will lurk behind these bushes. If it wasn't for the lightning we couldn't be seen, so dark as it is : — now then to j^our posts." These woi-ds were uttered by a man of about two-and-twenty, with a quick, cunning sort of look about him, though he was an ugly little fellow of stunted growth, and his face much pitted with the small-pox. Those he had just addressed were five in number, all, with the excep- tion of the one he had called Jack Thompson, as stupid-looking louts as it is possible to conceive ; but strongly made, and armed with guns and pikes. Jack Thompson was a miniat\u'e copy of himself, about a year younger, and lialf a head shorter : but there was that in him which promised resolution and courage very different from that of the dogged and bi"ute expression of indifference to danger on the faces of the four assis- tants. The first pei'son addressed by the name of Tom, a sturdy young clown with bandy legs, took the station assigned to him forthw ith ; and the others were not very long before they filled their posts as they had been directed. The reader must be informed that the leader of the little party was the son of a gamekeeper on a gentleman's estate, and the others were friends of his, who had agreed to assist him, — in consideration of a supper, w hich he was to g'ive them that night, — in taking some poachers, who had become very troublesome in the preserve where the persons who have been specified had stationed themselves. The lightning* was less vivid than it had previously been, but it flashed brightly at mtervals, illuminating the whole extent of a park, whose fine and ancient trees towering upwards, caught the innocuous radiance, seeming for an instant to be in flames. At the distance of perhaps two miles from the spot where the game- keeper and his friends had taken up their position, and which was nearly at the extremity of the estate, a large and hands