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 COLLECTION 
 
 OF. 
 
 BEITISH AUTHORS. 
 
 VOL. CCCLXIV. 
 
 PAUL FEEROLL. 
 
 IN ONE VOLUME.
 
 PAUL FERROLL. 
 
 A TALE, 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AriHOR OF "IX. POEMS BYV." 
 
 COPYRIGHT EDITIOJ^. 
 
 LEIPZIG 
 
 B E K N II A R D T A U C H N I T Z 
 
 1856.
 
 "liuw little we know of what paases in each other's minds." 
 
 Sidney Smith's Letters.
 
 URL 
 
 PAUL FERROLL. 
 
 CHLiPTEE I. 
 
 Nothing looks more peaceful and secure than a 
 country house seen at carlj' momhig. The broad day- 
 light gives the look of safety and protection, and there 
 is the tranquillity of night mixed with the brightness of 
 day, for aU is yet silent and at rest about the sleeping 
 house. One glorious July morning saw this calm love^ 
 liness brood over the Tower of Mainwarey, a dwelling 
 so called, because the cliief part of the building con- 
 sisted of a square tower many centuries old, about which 
 some well-fitted additions of the more recent possessors 
 had grouped themselves. It stood in the midst of a 
 garden bright with summer flowers, wliich at this hour 
 lifted tlieir silver heads all splendid with dew and sun- 
 shine; and it looked down the valley to the village, which 
 stood at a little distance, intersected and embowered -n-ith 
 orchards, and crowned with the spire of the church. 
 Early as it was, another half hour had not passed before 
 the master of the liouse descended some steps wliich 
 led from the window of liis dressing-room, and walked 
 tlirough liis Idooming garden to the stable, where his 
 horse was ready for him, as it had been every morning 
 for the last few weeks; and whenever the day was 
 beautiful as this was, he had passed the early houi's in 
 
 Paul Ferrull. 1
 
 Z PAUL FEREOLL. 
 
 riding. As he got on horseback, he met a labourer 
 belonging to the gardens coming to his work, and 
 inquired what he was going to do. The man showed 
 a basket of annuals wliich he was about to plant in 
 the flower-garden, and being a simple fellow, inquired 
 whether his master could tell if missus meant the 
 blue anagalUs or the white to be on the outside of 
 the bed. 
 
 "Not I," said Mr. FerroU; "whichever you will." 
 
 "Missus will be tremendgious if I'm wrong," said 
 the man, scratching his head. 
 
 Mr. Ferroll frowned at this epithet applied to his 
 young wife, and bidding the man go about his work, 
 rode off. 
 
 "It 's well enough for you who have the whip hand," 
 *aid Eichard Franks, looking after his master; "but if 
 
 ever a lady provoked the poor wretches under her " 
 
 and here his murmurs sank into inarticulate rumbling — 
 but Mr. Ferroll was out of hearing. 
 
 He rode gently. The morning was delicious, and 
 he occasionally spoke to a peasant going to his work, 
 or saluted a whole family busy on their garden before 
 the man went to his liired employment. Several of the 
 peasants whom he met while he was still in his own 
 immediate neighbourhood, had a word to speak with 
 him about a jol) of work they wanted, or repair for 
 a cottage, which they begged his honour to grant. He 
 gave attention and discussed their matters with all, so 
 that he made rather slow progress till he was at some 
 little distance from home, but then he touched his 
 horse with the spurs, and the gallant animal willingly 
 indulged Mm in. the pleasure of a gallop, which he 
 seemed to enjoy with eager relish. He had taken
 
 PAUL FEEROLL. d 
 
 a circuit in his gallop, so that between loitering in his 
 slow pace, and diverging in his quick, it was past six 
 o'clock when he anived at the Tillage to wliich his 
 course was directed. 
 
 "I'm very early, Mr. Aston," said he to the farmer 
 at whose house he stopped; "but I knew I must find 
 you at home at this hour." 
 
 "Xot a bit too early for us, sir," said the farmer, 
 "and I 'm hugely obliged to you for taking the trouble. 
 It's all over with me, I believe, sir; but if any can 
 help me, it's you." 
 
 "When is the day for examining the accounts?" 
 asked Mr. FeiToll. 
 
 " To-moiTow week, sir, and I declare I 'm as innocent 
 as a babby; and yet there's a hundred of poiinds as^ 
 I cannot tell what's gone with him." 
 
 "Did not you keep your accounts like other over- 
 seers?" said FerroU. 
 
 "Yes, I did just like the last two told me how; but 
 there's a great difference now, I believe, sir, in the way 
 tlic upper people add them up." 
 
 "Maybe so," said FeiTull; "and do you know there 
 was a great man once in the same plight as you, and 
 Eacon was his name?" 
 
 "Pickle, you might have said, sii*. Bacon might well 
 be in pickle," said farmer Aston, laughing hcartilj^ 
 
 "Come, that's well said; I love a man who can laugh 
 under his ti'oubles. I've good hope of you. Let's sec 
 these books, these accounts; let me try to add them up 
 the right way for you." 
 
 "Breakfast was just ready if you please, sir," said 
 the farmer's wife; "won't you take a cup of tea and a bit 
 of bread this morning, tcforc you begin?" 
 
 1*
 
 4 rATJL FEEBOI,!,. 
 
 "Thank you, I will with pleasure;" and he cut the 
 loaf standing as he was, and ate with appetite the good 
 bread, but rather made less of the tea without millc, 
 wluch seemed the produce of dried grass. 
 
 "I 'm afraid you don't like our tea, sir," said the 
 hostess, "though it's five-and-sispence a poimd at 
 Dewson's shop." 
 
 "That's Dewson's new way of adding up," said 
 Mr. Ferroll, smiling; "but, thank you, I'm more hungry 
 thaii thirsty, and you see what a gap I have made 
 in your loaf. So noAv the books, Aston, and let us set 
 to work." 
 
 The books kept by the overseer were indeed in 
 a state of confusion, which the better order of things 
 in the management of the poor might well find fault 
 ^with. Farmer Aston, however, had not the least intent of 
 cheating, but he had followed liis predecessors' example 
 in taking the arithmetic of the thing for granted, and 
 forcing a suitable conclusion, when it did not come 
 naturally. Widow Grant appeared at every close where 
 a shilling or a pound could not be accounted for. The 
 things for which the parish was creditor on one side, 
 it was debtor for on another, and at the end of 
 all, to make the expenditure agree with the receipts, 
 appeared his concluding item — "Muddled away 
 ^9 4s. 6^fZ."* 
 
 Mr. Fen'oU set to work to unravel as far as possible 
 this confusion, and patiently listened to the recollection 
 by which the farmer elucidated the written documents. 
 The table was covered with 'little dirty bills, the sum- 
 mary of which Mr. FerroU transferred to a fair sheet 
 
 * So Mr. Earle told me, the Poor-law Commissioner.
 
 PAUL FEEEOLL, O 
 
 of paper, and among which he, with a clear head, was 
 pursuing the almost hopeless clue, when the sound of 
 ai horse galloping furiously was heard, and a voice 
 asking for God's sake whether Mr. FerroU was there. 
 He heard his name, and looked up startled, but finished 
 the calculation he was that moment upon, before he 
 followed the fanner's wife, Avho had rushed out of the 
 room, and whom lie found fallen on the bench before 
 the door, while the messenger who had come for him 
 stood trembling, and as white as a sheet before her. 
 
 "Oh, Lord! here he comes," cried the matron, as 
 he ran out. "Oh! poor gentleman, don't tell him, 
 Thomas." 
 
 "What's the matter?" said Mr. FcitoII, the colour 
 mounting into his o-svn face with expectation. "Speak 
 out this instant." 
 
 "My mistress, sir," said the fellow, dropping his 
 hands to his side, and the bridle fell loose at the same 
 time, but the panting horse had no inclination to stir. 
 
 "Well, your mistress?" 
 
 "Dead!" said the man. 
 
 !Mr. FerroU's eyes fixed them on his face, his lips 
 were squeezed together, he did not seem to take in the 
 word. 
 
 "She is dead, sir," said the man; "oh! is worse than 
 dead — they have killed her." 
 
 "KUled your mistress!" he said; "you arc mad 
 yourself." 
 
 "How quiet he takes it," said the woman. 
 
 "He don't believe it," said the messenger. "Sir, 
 she's been murdered in her >)ed." 
 
 Mr. Ferroll said not a word more; he asked not 
 another question; but walked like a dnmken man to the
 
 6 PAUL JFEEEOLL. 
 
 stable, where his own horse was put up; and springing 
 into the saddle, flew past the cottage almost like the 
 speed of a bird, and vanished from their sight on the 
 way home. 
 
 Home! and what a home! It was all peace and 
 stillness when he left it. It was a scene of distraction, 
 now — servants and villagers were about the door, and 
 in the garden. Men were rushing for help, and only 
 bringiug more trembling spectators; the gate was wide 
 open; the windows, some still barred, some thrown 
 up; household employments all broken off — the house- 
 hold hurriedly one on another, terrified out of their 
 senses. 
 
 They rushed to their master, when he arrived. 
 
 "What is the matter?" he said again, as if his 
 apprehension refused all belief of what he had heard. 
 
 "Ii;'s all true, sir," said the constable, who had 
 been secured among the rest. "Your lady has been 
 murdered." 
 
 Mr. FerroU was a man of powerful will and habitual 
 reserve; he seemed to force himself to an action he 
 abhorred ■ — turned towards the room. 
 
 "You had better not go in," said the constable, 
 holding his arm. 
 
 ''''Seeing it is not the worst part," said Mr. FerroU, 
 and went on. 
 
 The surgeon was in the room; he was still bending 
 over the body, and his feet were dabbled with the blood, 
 which was in a pool about the bed. The husband was 
 deadly pale, but he forced himself on. 
 
 "Sir, were you here this morning?" said the surgeon. 
 
 "Yes, as late as half-past four. Is there no life?" 
 
 "Life has been extinct an hour or more," said the
 
 PAUL FEKBOLL. 7 
 
 sm'geon. ""Was the -^rindow open when you went away, 
 sir?" 
 
 "Yes, she bade me leave it open. Who? who? " 
 
 he repeated, gasping, and forcing out the word. 
 
 "There is no trace as yet — no suspicion. Did you 
 see anyone, sir?" 
 
 "No one," said Mr. Ferroll. 
 
 "Well, it don't matter asking him now," said the 
 surgeon, looking at him compassionately. "For God's 
 sake, sir, come out of the room;" but he still gazed 
 on, though a shudder ran at times through his strong 
 frame. 
 
 "She was murdered in her sleep," said the surgeon; 
 "it was some sharp, small instrument. The wound is 
 not large, but deadly — just here," and he pointed with 
 his linger below the ear. 
 
 "And no trace left?" asked the husband, looking over 
 the floor. 
 
 "Xone whatever, except there," said the surgeon, 
 pointing to a tub of water, which stood ready for bathing, 
 and which was deeply coloured with blood — "the 
 murderer washed off the traces there." 
 
 Mr. Ferroll shuddered: the scene was growing too 
 much even for his strung up mind. The surgeon led 
 him out of the room imrcsistingly ; and through the 
 crowd, before whom he summoned up his strength, and 
 passed them with a firm foot; but once in a room, away 
 from all these curious eyes, he sunk upon a chair and 
 hid his face. 
 
 The constable had sent for the coroner, upon first 
 hearing what had happened; and a jury was hastily 
 assembled, who proceeded to investigate the mysterious 
 affair. They visited the room, and the dead body, lying
 
 8 PAUL FEETIOLL. 
 
 all unanointcd iii the deep dishonour of death; the in- 
 tense stillness of the room contrasting with the confu- 
 sion; the soiled bedclothes, the polluted floor, all so un- 
 like the usual extreme neatness which accompanies the 
 silence of death. 
 
 The chamber presented no appearance of having 
 been robbed, until some one asked if there had been 
 any watch in her possession. Mr. Fen-oll said she was 
 in the habit of putting hers under her pillow. They 
 searched there but it was gone, and there was blood 
 under the pillow as though the hand that had taken it 
 thence was bloody: nothing else was missing, except a 
 pocket handkerchief, which her maid said had been in 
 the room when her mistress went to bed. They went 
 into Mr. Fen-oil's dressing-room next door, and here the 
 things were lying about just as he had left them when 
 he went out. His dressing-case was open on the table, 
 and when one of the jury asked whether anything was 
 missing from it, he said, as far as he recollected, it had 
 contained a sharp-pointed knife, which was gone. 
 
 But it was in vain the weapon was sought for all 
 over the dismal chamber. When the jury retired to de- 
 liberate, some curious evidence was brought before them. 
 It appeared that Mrs. Ferroll had been a woman of vio- 
 lent temper, and unpopular among her servants. The 
 footman was eager to tell that her own maid had com- 
 plained of the trouble she gave, and that only the day 
 before she had wished either herself or her mistress 
 were dead. 
 
 Then the housemaid, sobbing and terrified, said, that 
 the maid had got up that morning before five o'clock, 
 being much out of temper, and had said, she was going 
 to do something for her mistress, but it should be the
 
 I'AUL FEEROLL. V 
 
 last time. Here was suspicion, and the maid was 
 examined; but she cleared herself, by saying, that her 
 mistress had charged lier to pro'^ide the whole milk of 
 one cow for her morning bath. She had done it once 
 before, and master had so laughed at her, the maid said, 
 that she was afraid of his knowing it; and had made 
 her promise not to tell what she was about. It was a 
 troublesome order, and obliged her to get up at an im- 
 wontcd hour, and she had resolved to leave her place in 
 consequence. This story was confirmed by the dairy- 
 maid, to whom she had gone for the milk, and whose 
 evidence, togetlier with that of the housemaid, accounted 
 for the .suspected woman's employment from the time 
 slie left her bed to that when her loud cries at entering 
 the room had announced the event to the household. 
 
 One of the jurj% forgetting all the circumstances 
 which showed the death to have been brought abotit by 
 another hand, here conjectured, that since she was so 
 violent, she might have committed suicide, supi)osing her 
 to have been in a state of excitement. Had her husband 
 and she had any quarrel? he asked; were they on bad 
 terms ? 
 
 "No, they never quarrelled; master was resolute not 
 to quarrel." 
 
 An explanation of this was asked, and it seemed that one 
 and another had heard very hast)' expressions on lier part, 
 but that they were always silenced by ilr.Feri'oll, who knew 
 better than anybody how to manage her. They began to 
 tell what she had said against him, but -nath this the 
 jury had nothing to do, and stopped all such details. 
 
 A minute search was made in tlie liouse for the 
 missing watch, and there was one woman also who had 
 been in fits ever since the discovery of the murder, "\\lio
 
 10 PATJL FEKEOLL. 
 
 showed the greatest reluctance to submit to the investi- 
 gation. This was the wife of the labourer Franks, who 
 lived in the house in quality of kitchen-maid. She re- 
 fused to give up her keys, saying, she knew they would 
 pretend to have found something which would hang her. 
 The law had once found her son guilty of horse-steaHng, 
 though he never saw the horse in his life; and she saw 
 they only wished to find her or her husband guilty of 
 murder, to ruin them all one with the other. Upon 
 mention of her husband, further inquiry was made about 
 him, and he was brought before the jury for examination. 
 He was nearly as much terrified as his wife, and kept 
 his head averted from the room of death as they brought 
 him into the house. He tried to prevent all questions, 
 by conjuring them not to think he had done it. It was 
 true his mistress had been very hard to him, but he 
 would not have done such a thing for the world: his 
 master, perhaps, thought much of what he said that 
 morning, but, indeed, he meant no more than he said; 
 and as to killing her, he did not like for his own part 
 to kill his very pig. 
 
 On this mention of his master, Mr. FerroU was 
 questioned as to what he could tell of the man that 
 morning. One of the juiy remarked, that Mr. Ferroll 
 said, he had seen no one when he went out. He answered, 
 that he had indeed spoken to this man, but the idea of 
 connecting so innocent and well-known a fellow with this 
 horrible deed had not occurred to him. 
 
 "But where had he left Mm when he himself quitted 
 the house?" 
 
 "In the stable-yard." 
 
 "What was he going to do?" 
 
 "To work in the flower-garden."
 
 PAUL FEREOIL. 11 
 
 And it proved upon inqniry, that he had been there 
 alone, that he had quitted it some time before the murder 
 was discovered. One of the maids had seen him ■washing 
 his hands, and, on being questioned, said, the colour of 
 the water afterwards was as red as blood. 
 
 Mr. Ferroll remarked, that the soil of the garden was 
 mixed with clay, and might give that appearance; but 
 the jury was moved by the expression used by the maid. 
 They closely questioned AIi'. Ferroll as to what had passed 
 between him and the laboiirer about the miu'dered lady, 
 and he reluctantly related the expression used, for he 
 saw the circumstances were making against the man, 
 whom, from his previous knowledge of him, he could not 
 but believe innocent. The distracted behaviour of the 
 wife, and the terror of the accused added to the im- 
 pression; and when they forcibly took their key, and 
 went to search their box, everyone expected both the 
 watch and the handkerchief would be found. They were 
 not; but the suspicion was strong enough with regard to 
 him, and absent enough from everybody else, to cause 
 his committal to prison. 
 
 When this noisy and bustling scene was over, the 
 silence of death settled in all its depth over the house. 
 Then came the rites of the dead, and the body was com- 
 posed as it best might, and the clean spotless linen laid 
 over it. The chamber was set in order, the watchers 
 took their place in the room adjoining, and between one 
 day and another the house had passed from the peaceable 
 domestic scene of life and employment, to the solemn, 
 yet frightful inacti\'it}' of the death-place of its chief in- 
 habitant. 
 
 Mr. Ferroll kept aloof from the eyes of his servants 
 as much as possible. They could hear his restless step;
 
 12 PAUL FEKEOLL. 
 
 and when night came, observed that he went out of 
 doors, and paced hurriedly about the garden, as if iinable 
 to rest, but he did not come into the terrible room. It 
 must have been verj^ strong affection which could have 
 brought any one to look upon that sight; and it was well 
 known that although they had lived together with un- 
 broken unity, both had soon ceased to love the other. 
 
 Mr. FerroU was a man of profound passions, and 
 powerful will. He had been disappointed in the affection 
 he had fixed on a young gu"l; and the woman whom he 
 afterwards married had been in some way mixed up with 
 the story. The latter was young and handsome, and at 
 one time passionately in love with her husband; and after 
 the disappointment of his first attachment, he had hastily 
 married her, but her character was one it was difficult 
 to remain attached to; and when she found him far from 
 returning the zeal of her adoration, and that her hold 
 upon him grew less and less, she gave way to all her 
 unamiability, and would have proved the bane of the 
 life of any one less strong in character than her husband. 
 But he resolutely avoided all quarrel, and maintained the 
 decent and even friendly intercourse which became their 
 position. A man more anxious about appearance would 
 probably have constrained himself to visit the room where 
 the body of his wife lay; but Mr. FerroU was perfectly 
 tndiflerent in this, and all other instances, as to what 
 was said of him. 
 
 It was, therefore, with surprise, that the undertakers 
 employed in making the last arrangements previously to 
 closing the lid, saw him enter the room, and approach 
 the coffin. 
 
 "My wife," he said, "has left directions, which I am 
 about to obey;" and, with these words, he placed upon
 
 PAUL FEKHOLL. 13 
 
 the body a small parcel which, he had held in his hand. 
 He then drew away the covering from the face, which 
 he had not seen since the day of the jmurder. It was 
 composed as decently as possible, but after so many days 
 of death, and after a death so violent, looked indeed 
 different from the fine face, the healthy glowing coun- 
 tenance of his youag wife. He said not a word, moved 
 not a muscle; but gazed at it, as deadly pale himself as 
 the rigid corpse, and turned away at last with the effort 
 of one struggling against a paralysis, but recollected 
 himself before he had gone half across the room, and re- 
 turning, said, "I must see the lid closed on that packet;" 
 and taking hold of the back of a chair, stood resolvedly 
 while tlie cloth was replaced, the sheet drawn together, 
 and the lid put on and fastened upon the -withered form 
 within. Before it was done he had recovered his self- 
 possession, and walked firmly from the room; and after 
 that time, till the day of the funeral, more than once 
 came into the chamber, and gazed for a few minutes on 
 the coffin. He never wept, and never prayed beside it, 
 nor pretended to do either; and the watchers, accustomed 
 to see the mourners express their feelings in both ways; 
 found fault in whispers with Mr. FeiToll for doing dif- 
 ferently from other men; but it was plain that he was 
 as careless of that as of all other blame or praise of his 
 conduct. 
 
 It was not without hesitation that the magistrates 
 before whom Franks was brought committed him to 
 prison. The evidence against him was entirely pre- 
 sumptive. Even the bucket in which his hands had 
 discoloured the water was in liis favour rather than 
 against liim; for the murderer had plainly cleansed him- 
 self from the blood in the room itself where he com-
 
 14 PAUL FEEKOIL. 
 
 mitted the act; and had Franks been that person, it was 
 most unlikely he should have left his hands still so 
 deeply dyed, as to discolour water in the court -yard. 
 Mr. FerroU's conjecture, therefore, that it was the garden 
 soil which he had washed off, seemed the most pro- 
 bable. 
 
 But one of the magistrates, Mr. Bartlett, the owner 
 of the Hall, as Mr. Ferroll was of the Tower, upon whom 
 the bucket had made a great but rather an obscure im- 
 pression, remarked, that it was improbable water should 
 be stained with blood, unless there was blood in the 
 water; and observed, that Franks had washed his hands 
 in the bucket, and therefore it was plain that his hands 
 had been bloody. "And if you want my opinion," said 
 he, "I say I can't think it's right to murder anybody, 
 especially a lady; nor do I see the justice of letting 
 a murderer go loose on the country to cut all our 
 tliroats." 
 
 A light curl of contempt passed over Mr. Ferroll's 
 lip. "Nor that of hanging an innocent man," said he, 
 in a low tone; but the wife of Franks heard him, and 
 flinging herself on her knees, blessed him for the word, 
 and whispered to him, "Only save Mm from being hanged, 
 and I wHl tell all, Mr. FerroU." 
 
 "Tell all!" he exclaimed, starting back, and repeat- 
 ing her words aloud for all to hear. "Tell then." 
 
 The room was silent in a moment; only Mr. Bartlett 
 rubbed his hands, and whispered, "I told you so." 
 
 But the woman, when she found what she had done, 
 shrank back, denied she had anything to say, and de- 
 clared that it was only a way she had; the neighbours 
 knew she was not quite right at all times, and that her 
 poor head was quite wandering ever since she had seen
 
 PAUL FEKEOLL. 15 
 
 her dear lady in that dreadfiil room; and, in fact, when 
 she thus strengthened the picture by putting it into 
 words, she yielded to the impression, and fell into hys- 
 terics, which obliged them to carry her away. 
 
 But all this gave an impression unfavourable to the 
 accused man, who stood ti-embling and pale as death, 
 listening to one proof after another, almost as one might 
 listen at a tragedy, not distinguishing the fiction from 
 the tnith. His dislike to his mistress was proved by 
 many witnesses; that he knew she was alone that morn- 
 ing was proved by ^Ir. Fen-oll's conversation with lum. 
 He was the only person, as it seemed, who had been in 
 the garden to which her window opened, and he was 
 known to have been there alone; no other door or 
 window was opened in the house; he had some marks 
 on his hands of scratches, which he said first, were given 
 by a cat from whom he had taken its kittens; and then, 
 being asked where the Idttens had been put, produced a 
 new story, and said, they were scratches from a bramble 
 he was taking up from the garden. 
 
 All this confirmed suspicion, though Mr. FerroU re- 
 marked that the man (who had been in liis service for 
 years) was noted for liis confused manner if anything 
 unusual happened, and for the excuses he would make 
 and abandon the next moment. 
 
 Mr. Bartlett fidgctted and whispered to liis neighbour, 
 that if any one wished for his opinion, it was, that it 
 little became a husband to make excuses for the man 
 who had murdered his wife. 
 
 Mr. FerroU heard sometliing of this, and desired that 
 it should bo spoken aloud; and when the old magistrate 
 was forced to repeat what lie had said, the blood mounted 
 in his face, and more moved than he liad yet been, he
 
 16 PAtlX FERBOLL. 
 
 said that the man whom he believed innocent, he would 
 protect at any risk, in spite of any imputation, and then 
 turning to Franks, he said, "I swear to you, Franks, you 
 shall not be harmed — if you are innocent," he added, 
 in a different tone of voice. 
 
 The man looked at him -with a hopeful eye, but he 
 drew back from the thanks he began to utter, as if he 
 had done too much, and too publicly, and the magistrates, 
 before whom all tliis was indeed somewhat irregular, 
 proceeded, on their own belief, to commit him. 
 
 Mr. FerroU was naturally anxious to get away from 
 the scene of so much misery, but he had resolved to wait 
 till the assizes should be over, and the fate of Franks 
 decided. In the meantime he proceeded with the ar- 
 rangements consequent on the death of his wife. She 
 had brought liim a considerable fortime, wliich by her 
 settlement had been secured to him for hi^ life, but he 
 decliued keeping any part of it. He instructed Ms 
 lawyer to make it over entirely to her brother, who was 
 her only surviving near relation, and even the orna- 
 ments which had belonged to her, he locked up without 
 examiuation, in the case where they were usually kept, 
 and delivered them the day after the funeral to the same 
 person. 
 
 In all tliis there was more of sorrow at her fate, 
 than of love for her person, for who parts willingly 
 with every memorial of one they have pleasure in think- 
 ing of? But what shocked the feelings of the poor 
 people, and of the common people, Mi\ Bartlett at the 
 head of the latter, was the tombstone he. caused to be 
 placed over her grave. Any one dead should be called 
 according to them a good wife at least, but a murdered 
 woman ought to be the best of wives; however, tliat she
 
 PArL FEEEOLL. 17 
 
 was not, nor did Mr. FcitoH's epitaph say she had been. 
 It merely said, 
 
 "Anne, the daughter of Eobert Gordon, and ^nfe of 
 Paul Ferroll, of the Tower — she died, miu'dered, the 
 4th day of July, 18—." 
 
 By -whom, was not destraed to be found out; for at 
 the trial, Franks defended by Mr. Harrowby, a friend of 
 Ml". FerroU's, was, after the longest and most nicely ba- 
 lanced deliberation, acquitted. Still, people could not 
 forget that he had been suspected. At his earnest re- 
 quest, Mr. Ferroll gave him and liis wife the means of 
 emigrating to Canada. Tery great scandal was elicited 
 by liis protection of tliis man, but he was a person to 
 whom pubHc opinion was more indifferent than he could 
 find words to express; and immediately after the trial, 
 he an'anged his affairs for a long absence, and set off a 
 widowed and a comparatively impoverished man, no one 
 knew whither. 
 
 Paul Ferroll.
 
 18 PAUL FEUKOLL. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Little was heard of !Mr. FerroU for a good while 
 after these events, for though through his agent it was 
 known from time to time where he was, no information 
 whatever was gaiaed as to what he was doing. 
 
 A considerable time had elapsed after the murder of 
 his first wife, when he wrote to say that his house must 
 he got ready for his return, and that he was married. 
 Not a word more did he add, and the simple-minded 
 villagers were put out of heart by such repulsivcness of 
 the sympathies which they would have gone before to 
 offer. However, unassisted by any of the circumstances 
 which usually attend a wedding, they did dimly per- 
 ceive the propriety of a gala to receive the new lady, 
 and were talking languidly of an arch across the road, 
 with "Welcome," done in dalilias, when they were in- 
 formed one morning that Mr. FerroU and his new wife 
 had arrived the evening before. 
 
 The pair walked out that day in the village, and to 
 all the places which an old inhabitant introduces to a 
 new one. It was a pastoral place, containing the Park 
 and house of the Bartlctt family, and the Tower; and 
 besides these two great houses, there were the scattered 
 village and the farms belonging either to the Park or 
 the Tower. The former was much the greater estate, 
 but Mr. Fcn'oU was perhaps the richer man, having 
 fewer claims and more unencumbered means.
 
 PATTL FERBOLL. 19 
 
 Mr. Bartlett, the old magistrate, whose sagacity had 
 displayed itself on the inquest, had died since that time, 
 and his -^-ido-w, with a large family, inhabited the great 
 liouse, and attended as well as she could to the interest 
 of her eldest son's estate. She was an honest, simple- 
 minded woman as ever lived, but she belonged to one 
 of the principal families of the count}-, and had her own 
 consequent notions of what was to be done, and left un- 
 done. She had said, and others had said to her, that it 
 was very odd for Mr. Fen-oll to go and marry somebody 
 whom nobody knew iu the neighbourhood, and never 
 say a word about it till he was manied; nay, as it 
 seemed now, till he had been mamed some time, for a 
 nurse and a little toddling cliild arrived with, them — 
 and his maniagc must have been so soon after the hor- 
 rible death of bis first wife, poor tliiiig! &c. 
 
 So that Lady ];.ucy Bartlett did not go directly, no, 
 nor after the first Sunday, when she saw that Mrs. Fer- 
 roll was at church, to call at the Tower, as she naturally 
 Avould have done. Mr. Fen-oU observed it, and took his 
 measures accordijigly. He knew what conveniences 
 would be gained, and ^\'hat unpleasantnesses would be 
 avoided by a natural state of things betw(>en his wife 
 and Lady Lucy, and gave up an hour to obtaining them. 
 With this view he took his hat before luncheon, and 
 telling his wife Lady Lucy Bartlett was coming to call 
 about three o'clock, went liis way to the gi'eat house. Lady 
 Tiucy Bartlett was a little embarrassed, but he relieved 
 lier, by his friendly inf[uiries into the health of her 
 <;hildren, and by giving lier some adWcc concerning one 
 of her son's tenants, who was wonting her and her 
 steward. He then allowed some seconds' pause, and 
 began on Ids own matters. 
 
 2*
 
 20 PAUL rEKROlL. 
 
 "You've got nobody to ask about my wife, Lady 
 Lucy. Nobody hereabouts Imows anything, so I'll tell 
 you; and then there will be no need of picking it up 
 by bits, which would not be true after all. My wife was 
 Miss Shaledon." 
 
 "What, one of the Warwickshire Shaledons?" said 
 Lady Lucy. 
 
 "Yes, that family." 
 
 "That's a very old family," said Lady Lucy. 
 "Oh, very; they were given as serfs or slaves by 
 William the Conqueror to his Glovers, the Ganters; but 
 that's so long ago, that their servitude is grown to be 
 quite a credit to them. Well, Mrs. FerroU is one of the 
 daughters of Jolmson Shaledon, the son of John, of 
 Abororchards, who died soon after she was bom." 
 "I know all about him," said Lady Lucy. 
 "I loved her very much before I married my first 
 wife," said Mr. FeiToll: "but we were parted, and I did 
 two things in consequence — I half broke her heart, 
 and I married my first wife." 
 
 "Aye, indeed, poor thing — shocking! you must... 
 ha! indeed..." murmured Lady Lucy. 
 
 "Yes, very true, shocking indeed! and there it is," 
 said Mr. Ferroll, (imitating her manner, but so that she 
 did not perceive it;) "and then, you know, she died, as 
 you say, poor soul! and I went away. I met with Miss 
 Shaledon — no, I went to look for her. She was ill; 
 we had found out the inhuman stratagem that had 
 parted us long ago, and we manied. She is a woman 
 whom I adore," he said, passionately, and went on 
 directly; "that's her story, and she has not one shilling. 
 Now you know all from the foimtaiii head." 
 
 Lady Lucy did not know what to say; she did not
 
 PATTL FEEROLI. 21 
 
 feel quite sure that knowing all mended the matter en- 
 tirely: but Mr. FerroU did not want her comments. 
 
 "Are you going to walk this fine morning?" said he, 
 rising from his chair. 
 
 "Yes," said she; "I'll show you the Green..." 
 
 "Then come and call on lErs. FeiToU; I'U give you 
 my arm." 
 
 Lady Lucy Bartlett went and got her bonnet, and 
 never said a word to the contrary. 
 
 Here Mr. Ferroll was willing to have stopped, but 
 his neighbour once set going, was sociably inclined. She 
 was charmed by Mrs. Fen-oll, who was a person to make 
 an impression on any one; and her grace, her agreeable- 
 ness, and the pretty pursuits with wliich she was sur- 
 rounded, were not lost on Lady Lucy. She felt how in- 
 valuable such a neighbour would be, if the neighbour 
 could be led into sociableuess; and according to her 
 skill, she dug round and cultivated her. Mr. Ferroll had 
 been a frequent guest at her house in the year before 
 the late disaster; and lialf afraid, half fond of him, she 
 knew how clever he was, how able to talk to everj-- 
 hodj, and how valuable at her table, and in her affairs. 
 So first she sent a present of venison — for the Park 
 had venison, and the Tower had not ; and as soon as her 
 visit had been returned, despatched an invitation to 
 dinner. Tliis was declined very civilly; but Lady Lucy 
 thought the reason assigned, was rather one wliich had 
 been sought for, than one which really existed. She 
 was afraid that tlie refusal was in resentment at her 
 own delay in calLuig. She wished with all her heart 
 that she had been more eager to secure the advantages 
 which had been witlun, and now were escaped from, 
 her grasp.
 
 22 PAUL FEEROLI. 
 
 At the dinner, where Mr. and Mrs. Ferroll were not, 
 she talked very much about them, particularly about the 
 last; and gave her cousins and neighbours. Lord and 
 Lady Ewyas, a desire to know her. Next momiug, ac- 
 cordingly, they called from the Park — they and thek 
 hostess, and the cluldren, and a man or two, all walking 
 tlu'ough the Park to the Tower. They entered through 
 the garden; and as they came near the open wiadow, 
 they heard her sweet voice singing. 
 
 "How useful for one's dinner-parties in the country," 
 said Lady Ewyas. Nearer, they saw her through the 
 open windows, in a plain dress, made according to the 
 best fashion of the day, her brown hair uncovered, her 
 fair, pale face most lady-like. 
 
 "Oh, a woman to meet anybody," said Lord Ewyas. 
 
 They went in. She was alone, and received them 
 beautifully — one woman against a host, she was enough 
 for all; yet never too entertaining, never odd, never per- 
 plexed. She had drawings for them to see of a place 
 which was mentioned; and the circle being broken,asked 
 them to look at the garden, and give their opinion about 
 an alteration, and found other ways of getting happily 
 through the morning visit. 
 
 Mr. PeiToll came in before it was over; he was as 
 well-mannered as his wife, in a stouter fashion, and had 
 not to draw on his resources so largely, because he al- 
 ready knew all the party, more or less, and had subjects 
 in common. Nothing could go smoother than he the 
 host, and they the guests. But when a week after, be- 
 fore the call had been returned, Lord and Lady Ewyas 
 sent to beg him and his wife to visit them for a few 
 days, another excuse went foiiih from the Tower, again 
 more civil than well-founded.
 
 PAUX FEEBOLL. 
 
 23 
 
 Lord and Lady Ewyas -svere vexed; for in the coun- 
 try it does not do to lose acquaintance who are better 
 than common; and attributed the refusal to their own 
 haste in dispensing with a return of their call, regretting 
 that the game which was in their o^ti hands they had 
 thrown up by trying to secm'e it too soon. 
 
 Then what did they do if they would not visit their 
 neighbours? Lived alone, in perfect contentment, and 
 employed themselves at home. 
 
 A great deal of Mr. Ferroll's time was given up to 
 literary emploj-mcnt; his name and fame as an author 
 were some of the best parts of his existence, and made 
 him necessary, as well as acceptable, in certain circles. 
 He had written a few things which gave him fame, and 
 from time to time there issued from the Tower a brilliant 
 article, a few exquisite verses, or a fine fiction, which 
 kept the attention of the reading public upon him. He 
 was at the same time a man of that practical quality of 
 mind which made him the most useful among those who 
 carried on the business of life; and -svith these gifts, and 
 the enjoyment of a well-ordered competency, he was in 
 aa good a position in life as it was possible to be. Lady 
 Lucy soon found it would not do to send him presents 
 with any view to keep up the relative position of the 
 great and lesser house. She could only send him carnal 
 gifts of pheasants and carp; but he, the second week in 
 Januaiy, could make her a present of a bunch of roses 
 from his hot-house, and had always the newest book to 
 lend her when he and Mrs. Ferroll had read it. So much 
 he did for her; but he never dined at the Hall, nor en- 
 couraged an extreme intimacy; and for his part, it might 
 have gone on so to the end of time, but tilings happened
 
 24 PATJL FEREOIL. 
 
 at the Hall, wliich. broke through his habit or plan of 
 conduct. 
 
 The heir of Basall was a fine young lad, very much 
 altered for the worse since his father's death; he was so 
 headstrong, that the women were all afraid of him, and 
 they could get no peace except by flattering and courting 
 him. Accordingly, they were under the tjnranny of 
 caprices, such as should have been whipped away at 
 school, and the boy himself was running to ruin by his 
 own guidance. His poor mother was his guardian, and 
 felt the helpless responsibility of her situation in the 
 most painful manner. One day she sent in despair to 
 Mr. Ferroll, to beg the favour of him to come to her 
 immediately, and when he complied, he found her in 
 agonies lest he should not arrive before the end of the 
 half hour which had to elapse before her son should 
 return from his walk. 
 
 The case was this: — Hugh Bartlett had been 
 pleased to declare he should that day ride out upon a 
 horse which was fit for anything rather than to carry a 
 boy; he had declared his mother's objections to be 
 bosh, and having so disposed of them, had ordered the 
 horse. 
 
 Mr. FerroU laughed when the case was stated to 
 him. "You won't act for yourself, I know," said he, 
 "but in your name I will at once desire that the horse 
 be ?«zprepared — the cliild must not break his neck," 
 and he got up to ring the bell. 
 
 "Oh, no," said the mother, "he can't bear that — if 
 you only would persuade him." 
 
 "Persuade is not the word for a boy," said Mr. 
 Ferroll, ringing, and giving the necessary orders; "you 
 have called me in, and I will act for you — what re-
 
 TXVJu TER^OLt. 25 
 
 proach would you have a right to make me if I were to 
 fail in preventing the ride, and he were to be brought 
 home with broken bones." 
 
 "Oh, me! oh, heaven!" cried the mother; "but you 
 don't know how angiy he will be." 
 
 "lie angry — who ought to care for that?" 
 
 "It's veiy ti-ue," she answered, melting into tears; 
 "but he is so changed since his poor father's death, and 
 I have such ti'ouble with him." 
 
 "You must send him to school," said Mr. FeiToU. 
 
 "I know it would be better," answered the mother, 
 "but his dear father, the last thing almost, said I was 
 never to do that; he took my hand and made me pro- 
 mise I would never send him to school." 
 
 "Oh, that's bosh, as your son says; how could Mr. 
 Bartlett know what would be good for the boy, years to 
 come?" 
 
 Lady Lucy was quite shocked. 
 
 "What! disregard my dear husband's last words?" 
 she cried. 
 
 "Well, but let us see what sort of boy was he at 
 that time." 
 
 "Oh, very different from what he is now, you know; 
 he was very mild, almost timid; his dear father knew 
 how to manage liim, and I tliink he thought, perhaps, 
 ho had managed him almost too well, so when he felt 
 he was so ill, he said, 'lie kind to him, keep him at 
 home — promise he shall never go to school." 
 
 "But you can't say he is timid now.'" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Therefore this promise docs not apply."
 
 26 PAUL PEEEOLL, 
 
 "That makes no difference as to tlie promise having 
 been given." 
 
 "But it does as to keeping it." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Ferroll, you to say so; such a learned man 
 as you." 
 
 "What has my learning to do with it? but it does 
 not matter reasoning; here is a fine lad ruining, and 
 school is the only tiling to make him find his level, to 
 give him his place in the world. That is a positive 
 fact — let the rest alone, and the only question in my 
 mind is, the school where you will put him." 
 
 Mr. Ferroll kept to tliis point, passing over the 
 conscientious and abstract part as if granted, and out of 
 the way, and being once engaged in the certainty that it 
 was desirable and useful, he now proceeded to carry it 
 impetuously, treading down all barriers that opposed 
 themselves. Lady Lucy Avas accustomed to yield 
 obedience; and having nothing to answer, and her tears 
 being disregarded, she came in a wonderfully short time 
 to the point he had determined for her, and authorized 
 him to write to an experienced friend on the subject. 
 She was his only guardian, and all the time she felt in- 
 ternally that the thing would not be done after all; that 
 it would be talked about, and threatened, and produce a 
 good effect, and then, to be sure, if the threat should not 
 produce a good effect, why it might really be done, still; 
 but if she had these fors and againsts in her o^vai mind, 
 she little knew the man in whose hands she had placed 
 herself. 
 
 What a change had taken place in the destinies of 
 young Bartlett, by the time he was pleased to come in 
 again, expecting his horse. Mr. Ferroll imdertook to
 
 PAUL FEEKOLL. 27 
 
 explain the matter to him, and that he must Tvalk afoot, 
 since his pony did not content him, and that he must go 
 to school, since his mother could not manage him. He 
 took the lad a walk, and like any other boy in the 
 hands of a reasonable and a clever man, he was moulded 
 Kke wax to the impression Mr. Ferroll chose to give. 
 "VMiat sort of life he led his mother and the maids, 
 I will not Hft the veil to display; but certain it is, that 
 one month afterwards saw him on his road to a private 
 school of high repute, whence in a year and half he was 
 to be removed to Eton. 
 
 This very important service was not tlie only one of 
 which Lady Lucy Bartlett stood in need. She was misled 
 by the ignorance, and cheated by the iniquity of the 
 people about her, and she felt herself in a hopeless 
 entanglement, out of which she had no power to lift her- 
 self. At last tilings came to a crisis, and the steward 
 said he had a remedy to propose; he said the bills pre- 
 sented to his lady might be right, and might be wrong, 
 but he could not answer for it if her ladysliip continued 
 determined to pay them herself. Things came to the 
 confusion of which she complained, in consequence of 
 her ladyship paying for herself; he, for his part, did all 
 he could to keep them straight, but as long as he had 
 not the power in his own hands, his hands were tied, 
 and while his hands were tied, it was evident he could 
 do nothing. 
 
 "Well, what was the remedy?" poor Lady Lucy 
 asked. 
 
 "Why, it was this — let him have the power to 
 draw her cheques in his own name, and then being 
 always able to j)ay these bills alone, he sliould speedily 
 bring her affairs into order. Her ladyship, he was sure,
 
 28 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 could be certain that a servant employed by ber 
 honoured husband, would be as careful of her money as 
 if it were his own," &c. 
 
 Lady Lucy did as he wished. The steward loved 
 power and credit, but did not mean to cheat her; 
 nevertheless, he got into debt, and was tempted to set 
 himself right by transferring a small sum from her ac- 
 count to his own, fully intending to repay it. That, 
 however, soon became impossible, and it was at the 
 moment that he found it impossible even to repay the 
 small sum, that he began to help himself freely to large 
 ones. When he was deeply her debtor, he suddenly 
 doubled his debt in order to speculate on hops, which 
 was to set all right; but the crop giving signs of failure, 
 he gathered his money together, and went off to the 
 United States, leaving a letter behind, in which he said 
 he was sorry for the whole thing. Then it was Lady 
 Lucy Bartlett appealed to Mr. Ferroll; and embarrassed, 
 confused, and ignorant of business as she was, never did 
 woman more need assistance. He gave it freely. Her 
 world was out of joint, and he had to devote himself to 
 her to set it right. Temporary retrenchment, a thorough 
 reform of all her domestic staff; to cut off the cocks and 
 hens from their barley, which came to a hundred a 
 year; the neighbourhood to restrict of their ale, which 
 they came from miles round to drink at Basall; to send 
 away the gardener, who charged fifty pounds for seeds 
 to crop the kitchen garden, yet begged the cook to be 
 careful of parsley; these, and other reforms of greater 
 and less extent, were the good work of Mr. Ferroll, in 
 favour of his neighbour and her son. She felt saved, 
 and as the crowning favour, besought him to share with 
 her the office of guardian.
 
 PAUL FEEEOLI. 29 
 
 Mr. Ferroll was silent for a minute considering the 
 matter. Then, although he must have perceived how 
 much for the advantage of the boy it would be, he de- 
 cidedly refused.
 
 30 PAUL FEEKOLL. 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 Since the beginning of our history several years had 
 passed before things anived at this point. The young 
 heir of the Bartletts had been two years at school, and 
 liis mother's affairs had been directed nearly that time 
 by the good ofBces of Mr. Eerroll. He and liis wife 
 were .living in great and enjoyable retirement, and their 
 child was ranning about, still the only new branch of 
 the tree. As far as a young child can be lovely and 
 charming, little Janet was so. She had the sweetest 
 face and the sweetest temper possible, but she was less 
 idolized than many a cross and many an ugly child. 
 The whole tenderness of Mr. Ferroll's nature was cen- 
 tered in his wife; and anything that interfered with 
 that passion he->put aside. Ho would have her devote 
 herself to Mm, not to her child; he would have no 
 nursing, no teaching, no preference of a dawdle with 
 Janet to the walk with him, or the long summer day's 
 expedition. The nursery was Janet's place, a governess 
 her teacher; she came to her mother when her mother 
 was alone, and was happy with her; but she was happy 
 everywhere, "singing, dancing, to herself," and it was 
 rather her own resources than her mother's motherly de- 
 votion which made her happiness. 
 
 Lady Lucy, who had all the instincts of a good 
 woman, and only one way of exercising them, could not 
 believe Janet was happy; so little fondled, so little made
 
 PAUI, FEEKOLL. 31 
 
 of, as she was. Her own children were all important 
 in her house, and when she knew Mr. and Mrs. FerroU 
 were out together iu summer weather, and Avould not be 
 at home till after Janet's bed-time, she would often 
 Avalk to the Tower, and lead the little girl by the hand 
 up to her own sociable and noisy garden or drawing- 
 I'oom. An extreme fondness natin-ally grew up be- 
 tween the little Ferroll and the rather larger Bartletts. 
 Her father saw it with great indifference, not con- 
 sidering himself under obligations for services which he 
 did not want. Onlj' on one point did he suddenly and 
 positiA'ely interfere — and that was when the young 
 lieir of the Hall, shaiing in the fondness of his mother 
 and sister for the merry and most good-natured Janet, 
 declared her, according to the fashion of children, his 
 wife. Mr. FeiToll's brow clouded far more than tlic oc- 
 casion required: his severe countenance put an end to 
 all the mirth of the moment, as a shadow passing over 
 young eliickens is said to inspii'e them with instinctive 
 trembling, as if haAvks were between them and the sun; 
 and taking occasion to call Janet's frightened governess 
 into the room, he desired such vulgar jests might never 
 again be indulged in, upon the penalty of an abmpt 
 separation from her pupil, little; Janet, therefore, was 
 no longer the wife of Hugh Eartlett, and the gover- 
 nesses and nurses felt they had done veiy wrong in 
 suggesting the union. Except upon this subject, he was 
 kind and neighbourly to the liartlett family; the bel])- 
 lessness and goodness of tlie Avidow laid hold on him, 
 as a climbing plant upon the strong oak; and he found 
 himself her support and necessary prop, before he was 
 aware liow far he was engaged. 
 
 Lord Ea\'3us was struck by the energy whicli Mr.
 
 32 PAUL PERKOLL. 
 
 FerroU had displayed in her affairs — he himself was 
 in need of aid, though of a different kind. He was 
 Lord-Lieutenant of the County, and he found himself 
 very ill-supported by the magistrates , who were an 
 ordinary set of men, and who at this moment were 
 wanted in circumstances somewhat out of the common 
 order. The poor population had become exceedingly 
 riotous, in consequence of reduced wages, and they had 
 formed such strong combinations, and were guided by 
 such efficient men, that a season of considerable danger 
 seemed impending. 
 
 Threatening letters had been received by many per- 
 sons in the county, and in several instances these threats 
 had been put in execution by the destruction of pro- 
 perty, barns and ricks, for instance, which had been set 
 on fire. The last person to be thus persecuted should 
 have been the quiet and alms-giving Lady Lucy Bai'tlett; 
 but so it was, that a strange-looking epistle was one 
 morning brought to her by her butler, a servant who 
 had long lived in the family, and who lingered in the 
 room evidently curious about the contents. She opened 
 it, and found these ominous words — "Li a day you 
 don't look for it, fire will consume you." A shriek on 
 her part, which was echoed by an exclamation on his, 
 followed; and she failed to remark, in her terror, that 
 the butler's alarm seemed to precede his knowledge of 
 the fact, for he was wringing his hands and crying out 
 they were all lost, before he had read the letter which 
 contained the threat. 
 
 Mr. Ferroll was consulted, of course; he recom- 
 mended caution, but supposed it was the work of some 
 one intending to extort money, and would be followed 
 by an appeal for relief. However, such was not the
 
 Pi-ITL HEKKOLL. 33 
 
 case; from week to week the ill-shaped letter continuecl 
 to be delivered, and the words were still the same 
 words — "In a day you don't look for it, fire will con- 
 sume you." These were brought up by her trembling- 
 butler, Didley, with a face as white as a sheet, and 
 still he lingered to hear the contents, which at last pro- 
 duced such an effect upon his nerves that he became 
 unable to continue his services, and was reduced to the 
 confinement of the lower region^ of the house, whence 
 the answer to his mistress's inquiries came every day 
 "Very poorly indeed, my lady." 
 
 Under these public and private circumstances, a 
 clear-headed and strong-willed man like Mr. FerroU, was 
 invaluable to all parties concerned in them; and Lord 
 Ewyas, as well as his cousin, was very anxious per- 
 sonally to enlist his service. 
 
 "He 's a magistrate, is not he, your Mr. Ferroll?" 
 said he to Lady Lucy. 
 
 "Yes, a very useful one; he is constantly at the 
 petty sessions, and the magistrates' meetings at Church- 
 argent, and if by any chance he does not go, they stop 
 all the business if they can." 
 
 "He gets an influence wherever he goes," said Lord 
 Ewyas; "he is the very man I want to be able to 
 send to upon occasion. I wish the fellow was not so 
 pcn'crse. What keeps him at home, do you tliinkr" 
 
 "I don't know," said Lady Lucy; "xuiless, perhaps, it 
 was that shocking tiling about liis first wife." 
 
 "Yet he's not a man to suficr from nerves and fine 
 feelings — and tlic tiling's so long past, now." 
 
 "But then they never found out who did it," said 
 Lady Lucy. 
 Paul FenoU. 3
 
 34 TA.VL FEEEOll. 
 
 "Ah', you tliink that would have eased his miud, do 
 jou. They suspected somebody, did not they?" 
 
 "Yes; though I don't think it would have eased his 
 mind, for he got him off you know; i)aid counsel for his 
 own wife's murderer. "When one thinks of it, it's most 
 extraordinary — it's carrying good nature quite too 
 far." 
 
 "Indeed it is," said Lord Ewyas; "only I suppose 
 Mr. FerroU thought thg man innocent." 
 
 "Oh dear no, he certainly did it — I saw him my- 
 self going about quite free after the tiial — he was ma- 
 king a hedge when I saw him." 
 
 "But I suppose he was not the murderer," said Lord 
 Ewj'as, "K not it would have been hard to hang 
 him." 
 
 "But you know he certainly tvas; he was tried you 
 know." 
 
 "And acquitted." 
 
 "Oh, that does not make any difference," said Lady 
 Lucy. 
 
 "No, no, to be sure," answered Lord Ewyas, laughing; 
 "but, however, Mr. Eerroll — let us talk of him — can 
 you bring us together, do you think?" 
 
 "No, I don't think I can. Whenever I have any- 
 one here, he keeps away; he only comes if I am alone — 
 even 'Mx. Ewbury, who is so clever, he would not 
 meet." 
 
 "He would not come to us, when I asked him," said 
 Lord Ewyas; "but I want him, and will get at him. You 
 shall invite him, as if you were alone, and I will be 
 with you — I am sure you will be so kind?" 
 
 "Oh, certainly, only I'm afraid he will be angry — 
 besides poor Didley can't wait, he's so nervous about
 
 PAUL FEEBOLL. 35 
 
 those terrible letters, that sometimes in a moining he cau 
 scarcely stand." 
 
 "But you don't mean that your Mr. Ferroll is a man 
 to care ■whether a butler waits or not." 
 
 "Oh dear no, it's the yery last thing he would ob- 
 serve or care about. But it is meeting anyone, even you, 
 that I'm afraid of." 
 
 "Even me! but nonsense, you must do it, will you, 
 coz, for me?" 
 
 Lady Lucy hesitated; her cousin, however, persuaded 
 her, and she despatched a letter of request to see Mr. 
 and Mrs. Ferroll, as she did occasionally when needing 
 their assistance. The pretence she took was the incen- 
 diary letter, and they complied with, the summons, for 
 Mr. Ferroll fancied he had ti'aced them to then' source, 
 and was curious to ascertain it positively; for he thought 
 he X'Ci't'eived more danger in them than Lady Lucy 
 really believed, though less than she believed herseK to 
 believe. 
 
 Lady Lucy came forward in some trepidation to re- 
 ceive her neighbours when they were announced. "How 
 d'ye do — it's so kind of you — are you quite Well, Mrs. 
 
 FeiToll' I hope you won't object to not finding me 
 
 that is to say, to being with the thing is, Lord 
 
 I'^wyas came only half an hour ago, and I could not, 
 could I?" 
 
 "Just in time to di'css?" said Mr. Ferroll. "I was 
 not aware I was to meet Lord Ewyas, but you were 
 aware, my dear lady, that he was to meet me; and 
 I am happy to bo made by you the acquaintance of 
 your friends." And so sapng, he bowed frankly to 
 Lord Ewyas, and acccjited the intercourse thus pressed 
 upon him. 
 
 3*
 
 36 PATJIi FEEEOIL, 
 
 "We were half afraid," said Lord Ewyas, addressing 
 himself to Mrs. Fcn'oll, when after dinner conversation 
 grew unrestrained, "that you would be angry with my 
 cousin and me for obliging you to let some one be- 
 side herself share the advantage of her neighbourhood 
 to you." 
 
 "Nay," answered Mrs. FerroU, "don't have so bad 
 an opinion of us as that. It is only too flattering that 
 you should think it worth while to take the least pains 
 to meet us." 
 
 "Any pains would be overpaid, if I could only hear 
 again the song which I heard some years ago — yes, 
 really years. It was too good to be kept for one for- 
 tunate pair of ears." 
 
 "But, literally speaking, these ears of mine are not 
 so fortunate," said Mr. Ferroll; "a brother author some- 
 times comes to consult, and a printer's devil very often 
 haunts us, and by one means or other, I am very busy, 
 my lord." 
 
 "Oh, but," interposed Lady Lucy, "you have only 
 one man or so to see you. One Mr. M — was with you 
 last week," she said, naming without knowing it, one of 
 the most celebrated talkers of the day. 
 
 "Humph!" said Lord Ewyas, "you had him, and all 
 to yourselves?" 
 
 "Yes, we had — he and I are old friends, and now 
 fellow workers." 
 
 "What a charity it would bo to invite your neigh- 
 bours, who never hear or see such a big-wig." 
 
 "To meet one Mr. M — ?" said Mr. Eerroll, smiling. 
 
 Lord Ewyas smiled too for half a moment. "True," 
 he said. 
 
 "What's true?" asked Lady Lucy.
 
 PAn. FEBEOIi. 37 
 
 "Lady Lucy," said Mr. Ferroll, "is your butler 
 better yet? I fear you will never have his services 
 agaia." 
 
 "Oh, I can't think anything so shocking; but it's aU 
 the fault of the radicals. These fires have put him half 
 out of his -wits. They tell me he goes out two or three 
 times in the night to see that the well has water in it, 
 and that he calls the housekeeper up more nights than 
 not, fancj-ing he smells fire." 
 
 "He should consider," said Lord Ewyas, "that he 
 is but a lodger; what is it to him if the house be 
 burned?" 
 
 "Xay," cried Lady Lucy, "that's a remark I don't 
 understand. Are not lodgers burned as well as the 
 owners?" 
 
 "They say not," said her cousin; "but if he is of a 
 different opinion, it's no wonder the letters you get 
 frighten him." 
 
 "Oh, he's hon-ibly frightened; the first time he 
 brought me one, I knew something was the matter, by 
 the shaking of the door iu his hand." 
 
 "How did he know the contents?" asked Mr. Ferroll. 
 
 "By the shape, I suppose, and the look, and the 
 writing," said Lady Lucy. 
 
 "Do you never have oddly shaped letters except from 
 the incendiary?" asked Mr. Ferroll. 
 
 "Yes, the butcher, and begging letters, to be sure." 
 
 "Eut those never alanned him?" 
 
 "I never remarked; but I wish you woiild not frighten 
 me with those; kind of questions that I don't luiow the 
 meaning of," said the widow. 
 
 Mr. Ferroll laughed gaily; ho caught liis wife's eye, 
 who said immediately.
 
 38 PAUL TEEKOLL. 
 
 "I am sure FerroU thinks some e\al is going to 
 happen. Danger puts him in high spuits always," He, 
 perhaps, would have paniecl the charge, had not Lady 
 Lucy said, "It frightened her to see people so fear- 
 less," and signed to her guests to move to the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 "I tliink," said Mr. Ferroll, when he had shut the 
 door, "that the butler himself writes the letters." 
 
 "Why so?" said Lord Ewyas, startled. 
 
 "It is borne in upon me," answered Mr. Ferroll, 
 smiling. "More little circumstances than I can remember 
 or detail, bring me to that conclusion." 
 
 "And do you think that he means any harm by it?" 
 
 "That I don't know; he either acts the alarm which 
 he shows, in order to cover his design, or else he is 
 going mad, and is haunted by the idea of mischief, and 
 impelled to do it." 
 
 "He looks iU," said Lord Ewyas. 
 
 "Very; and much worse this evening than I have 
 seen him at all, I am sure he must be watched to- 
 night." 
 
 Lord Ewyas grew uneasy, but Mr. Ferroll turned 
 the conversation, and exerted his great social powers to 
 engage his companion's interest and attention. They 
 both became eager in discourse, and Lord Ewyas was 
 impatient, when the door was opened, and Didley, the 
 butler, entered the room without a summons, and ad- 
 vanced towards the table, as if expecting to be spoken 
 to. "Did you ring, my lord?" he asked. 
 
 "No, no, I did not ring," he said; "I thought the 
 fellow was sick, and could disturb nobody," and then 
 he continued the argument he was maintaining against 
 Mr. Ferroll; but they had not long been engaged in
 
 PAUL FEKKOLL. 39 
 
 the animated and interesting controversy, before Didley 
 again interrupted tliem, and making some trifling altera- 
 tion in the table, evidently waited for an opportimity of 
 speaking. 
 
 "What is it you want?" said Lord Ewyas, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 "Why, my lord, if you'll give me leave to speak, I 
 have a matter I very much wish advice upon." 
 
 "Can't you wait till to-moiTow morning?" 
 
 "Really, my lord, I can't very well. It's about 
 these letters to my lady, these threatening letters — so 
 I hear they are at least." 
 
 "Which you write yourself," said Mr. EerroU. 
 
 "AVhich /write!" said the butler, turning upon him 
 eyes of the deepest perplexity. "Do I write them, do 
 you think, sir?" 
 
 "I know you do." 
 
 "Who told you?" said Didley. 
 
 "Oh, one told me who cannot be mistaken." 
 
 "And did he tell 3^ou really that it was I?" 
 
 "Yes, positively." 
 
 "Well, that is what I never have been sure of 
 myself, for when I see them, and take them up to my 
 lady, they frighten me in a strange way for a man's 
 own writing to do." 
 
 "Why do you write then?" asked Lord Ewyas. 
 
 "Why, my lord, it's partly all about that matter 
 that [ came to talk with you gentlemen. Do you know, 
 that for months past there have been people coming into 
 my room without any leave of mine. They used to be 
 quiet enough, but of late tlicy have grown troublesome." 
 
 "Who are they?" said Lord E-^yas. 
 
 "Why, there comes a good many I Icnow, and some
 
 40 PAUL FEEEOH. 
 
 I don't know; my late master, my lady's husband, is the 
 foremost. He will come and sit down close by me, and 
 tell me to write to my lady, always these same words 
 — 'In a day you don't look for it, fire will consume 
 you.' I have conjured him a hundred times to tell me 
 if he comes from heaven or from hell, but he always 
 shakes his head." 
 
 "That might give rise to unpleasant conjectures," 
 said Mr. Ferroll. "Now you know who told meP 
 
 "Aye, sir, I thought so; though I wonder he came 
 to you. I never saw him, nor any of them, when other 
 living people were in the room, before to-day. "Was it 
 to-day, sir?" 
 
 Mr. Ferroll shook liis head gravely; and, evading 
 the question, inquired, "At what time was he with 
 you?" 
 
 "It was when John, and Henry, and I were laying 
 the cloth for dinner." 
 
 "Did they see him?" 
 
 "jSTo; I asked them, and they said 'No.'" 
 
 "Nor hear him?" 
 
 "No; he would not speak, only beckoned me with 
 him." 
 
 "But then he spoke?" 
 
 "Yes, yes; and I think I must do it." 
 
 "Well, I'm not clear that it is right." 
 
 "That's what I sometimes think myself; and I've 
 kneeled by my bedside hours and hours, askuig God, 
 and praying till I have not known my head from my 
 heels. But it's all dark there." 
 
 "Poor feUow!" said Lord Ewyas. 
 
 "Yet it's a great thing, my lord, to have the com- 
 pany of spirits; and the last hour or two, I must say
 
 PAUL FEBBOII. 41 
 
 IVe been easier than for a long time, and that I think 
 is a sign that I 've got leave to do it." 
 
 /'It may be so; but you came like a -wise man to 
 consult us on the subject," said Mr. Fen-oU. "From 
 what he said to me, I tliink you're mistaken. Did he 
 say precisely these same old' words?" 
 
 "No, no; worse words — worse." 
 
 "Aye, indeed, I thought so. Sometimes IVe known 
 those spirits make very sti-ange blunders; and with 
 respect to what your old master orders, I advise " 
 
 "I can't take it, if you advise against doing it," 
 interrupted Didley. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Why, partly because it's already done." 
 
 ""NMiat's done?" cried Lord Ewyas. 
 
 "The house is on fire," said Didley. 
 
 "Good heavens!" cried liOrd Ewyas, starting up. 
 
 But Didley, springing to the door before him, fasten- 
 ed it, and set his back against it. "Xobody shall hinder 
 my work," he said. "I knew you would taUc to me 
 AvMle my fires were burning; and if he had not gone 
 and betrayed me to one of you " 
 
 But before he could finish, Mr. Ferroll sprang upon 
 him, and tried to force him from the door; but Didley 
 was armed, and drew out suddenly a large knife, the 
 sheath of which was just inside his coat. Mr. Fen'oll 
 just avoided a fatal thrust; and seizing his arm, said, 
 "Is this the way you treat your master's friend?" 
 
 "Nobody's his friend that liinders me doing liis com- 
 mands," said the madman, his malady breaking out at 
 this sudden excitement, and struggling with the violent 
 strength of madness, to regain comiiiand of the weapon. 
 
 There was now a contest, wliich was plainly much
 
 42 PAUL FEEHOIX. 
 
 to the disadvantage of Mr. FerroU, Hs antagonist being 
 armed, and liis mind beyond all tbe usnal motive of 
 control. It was not only strength that was needed, but 
 there was the necessity to avoid even a faint stroke of 
 the sharp gleaming knife; Mr. Ferroll saw the disad- 
 vantage. 
 
 "Come," said he, "you're in the right. You must 
 do as you will; loose me," and all the while half kept a 
 powerful grasp of the maniac, "and I won't hinder you." 
 
 "Swear that," cried Didley. 
 
 "I swear." 
 
 "Again — again." 
 
 "Well, well, I sivear; but it's all right, you see. 
 Don't you smell the smoke yourself — you 've done it." 
 
 In fact, the burning smell became perceptible. 
 
 "Ha! you say true, sir," said Didley, and tui'ned his 
 pale face towards the quarter whence it came, his iron 
 grasp still held Mr. Ferrol; but Lord Ewyas peijpeived 
 only the apparent relaxation in his purpose, and think- 
 ing the danger from Mm passed, rushed towards the 
 door. 
 
 "You've sworn falsely," cried Didley, brandishing 
 his knife, and straining again his vigorous hold; "my 
 master shall be obeyed;" and again he sought to make 
 a plunge. 
 
 "Good heavens! there he is," said Mr. Ferroll, sud- 
 denly relaxing all his resistance, and fixing his eyes on 
 the door. 
 
 "Where?" cried Didley, thrown off his guard for a 
 moment. That moment was enough. Mr. Ferroll closed 
 upon him, and threw him down; Lord Ewyas sprang to 
 help. They snatched away the knife, and now, notwith- 
 standing Ids struggles, he was soon overpowered.
 
 PAUL FEEEOLL. . 43 
 
 In another minute two of the servants vrho had 
 heard the noise caine rushing to their assistance. "So 
 far, so good," cried Mr. Terroll. "Come, my lord, there's 
 the second act yet;" and they both ran to find the 
 soiu-ces of the tke, whose smoke began to roll through 
 the house. 
 
 "Go to the drawing-room, pray, my dear lord," said 
 FerroU. "Get Lady Lucy and the children out into the 
 garden. There is no dauger, I think, but they will 
 shriek so hideously. Will you whisper Mi-s. Ferroll to 
 come to me for a moment? Thank you." 
 
 And without waiting for her, but sure that she 
 would find him, he gave directions what to do, and coii- 
 tiaued his search for any fresh spots in which the mad- 
 man might have kindled the flame. 
 
 "Elinor," he said, "you see I'm quite safe, but I've 
 a story to tell you. jS'^ot now, however, most certainly; 
 but look about, dear Elinor, with your keen womanly 
 intelligence, for that poor fool Didley, who I told you 
 was ill, haS been setting the house on fire. AYe have 
 put out one fire already, but there may be many more. 
 As for himself, he's out of the way; he's a perfect 
 maniac, and they've secured him. Never miad that 
 now; don't think of that just now, only keep close to 
 me, and toll mc if you perceive fire." 
 
 Jjuckily the discovery had followed so closely on the 
 act, that although fired in several places, the house had 
 not become dangerously inflamed; and under calm and 
 prompt treatment, the peril subsided before long; and 
 with the sacrifice of some silk curtains, and the destruc- 
 tion of some pla.ster ceilings, through wliich the water 
 poured, safety was restored, bo far as could be asccr- 
 tiiined; but men were set to watch all night, lest any
 
 44 PAUL FEEBOU, 
 
 liiddcn danger should yet remain. The party got to- 
 gether again, when all was done that was possible, in 
 the drawing-room, and then Mr. FeiToll talked seriously 
 with his hostess, and gaily with his wife, of what had 
 passed. His companion in peril shuddered still at the 
 remembrance of their danger. He was full of natural 
 pity for the maniac, whose ravings penetrated occasionally 
 to the drawing-room from the room where he was con- 
 fined and guarded. Mr. Ferroll tried his very best to 
 look grave also, and to compose his sensations to a due 
 harmony with the nerves of Lady Lucy, and the over- 
 powered state of mind of Lord Ewyas; but he was like 
 a man slightly intoxicated, who even while acting ra- 
 tionally, does so with a consciousness to himself, and 
 evidence to others that he is doing it by an effort of 
 self-command. The excitement had roused up every 
 power of life; and his wit, his knowledge, his force of 
 character, were all in activity. He enjoyed Hfe, and no 
 nervousness about himself, or sensibility to the sufferings 
 of another, disturbed him. 
 
 "I should so much like to walk home, instead of the 
 carriage," he said at last to his wife. "You don't mind 
 it, do you?" 
 
 "Oh, I should enjoy it also very much," she answered, 
 quite ready to go. 
 
 "What, after a shock like that?" cried their hostess; 
 "all in the dark too!" 
 
 "Can my carriage be of any use?" said Lord Ewyas. 
 
 Mrs. Ferroll civilly declined; her husband said some- 
 thing like pshaw! but it would have passed had not 
 Lady Lucy wliispered "Hush," which was quite too late, 
 as the thing was not going to be said again; "they have 
 plenty of horses and carriages."
 
 PAUL FEEEOLI. 45 
 
 Lord Ewyas let it pass, and shaking hands with 
 both, begged them to continue the acquaintance thus re- 
 commenced, and said to Mr. FerroU, "We have been in 
 danger of death together — an irresistible reason for 
 trying to enjoy life in one another's company." 
 
 Mr. Ferroll smiled, and said, "The campaign had 
 been a brilliant one;" and so they parted, without any 
 promises made on the Ferroll side to cultivate the ac- 
 quaintance; and Lady Lucy, as soon as they were gone, 
 said, "He won't come and see you now; you have 
 offended him about the carriage." 
 
 But her cousin answered, "Pooh, pooh! he has too 
 much sense; he's too well bred for that."
 
 46 PAUL PEEEOLI. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 So it was, however, that the Ferrolls decliaed all in- 
 vitations to Harold's Castle, and Lord Ewyas was offended. 
 But this affected only himself; for Mr. FerroU declined 
 going, because he did not want to go, so that it just 
 suited him tliat Lord Ewyas should leave off inviting 
 him. He continued his active services as a magistrate; 
 and the Lord-Lieutenant kept one sulky eye upon him, 
 in case necessity should compel an application for lus 
 services, although he was in no hurry to seek them. 
 But the distress which had occasioned the tumultuary 
 spirit of the people, was leading to results which iu some 
 degree stopijed the acts of aggression, and which in- 
 volved the qmet and the turbulent alike in trouble. 
 Disease broke out in the district, deaths were very fre- 
 quent, and the fear and suffering became so general, that 
 all the activity and reason of the acting part of the 
 community were required in the emergency. There were 
 very judicious measures taken, hospitals set up in several 
 places, and means provided for suppljdng the infected 
 with nurses and medicines at home, when the circum- 
 stances required it. There was some ti'ouble, however, 
 in finding superintending visitors, as the illness which 
 had already affected many, deepened into the pestilence 
 of the cholera, and alarmed people more than any fami- 
 liar terror could have done.
 
 PAUL FEEEOII. 47 
 
 Under these circumstances Mr. Ferroll was willing to 
 do everythiag that was wanted, and what other people 
 were afraid to do. But on the first intimation of danger, 
 Lady Lucy went to him, as on all other occasions of 
 distress, and was overcome at heaiing that he did not 
 intend to isolate house and family, as she herself was 
 taking measures to do. 
 
 "I dare say you are very right. Lady Lucy," he 
 said; "but I can't be right in the same way. I am 
 wanted; and to tell the truth, I should have no pleasui'e 
 in keeping safe at home." 
 
 "Eut it is not only for pleasure I do this," answered 
 Lady Lucy. "You know it has killed a great many 
 people, even of one's own acquaintance. Poor Mr. Way- 
 lett even died — a man I have known all my life — 
 how very shocking!" 
 
 "Certainly you have known me a long time, and it 
 miglit kill me" said Mr. Ferroll, rcllcctingly. 
 
 "Did you think of that before?" asked Lady Lucy. 
 
 "Well, I don't know if I did." 
 
 "And Mrs. FeiToll and little Janet?" said the lady, 
 pursuing her discoveries. 
 
 "Yes, all run their chance indeed, as you say. As 
 for Janet, her mother did talk of sending her somewhere 
 or other." 
 
 "Oh, send her to me; I shall keep the park shut up, 
 and nobody shall get in or out; only you must all tliree 
 come, you must indeed; and come at once, to-morrow." 
 Mr. Ferroll shook his head. "Then at least Mrs. Ferroll," 
 said the good-hearted lady. 
 
 "Oh no. What, without me!" 
 
 "Why, you can't be so selfish as to wish to put her 
 in danger, in order to keep you company?"
 
 48 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 "Indeed I am, though; there would be no enjoyment 
 of the thing without her." 
 
 "What thing? What are you talking about?" 
 
 "Oh, why — she and I must stay together; but it 
 really is very good-natured of you, Lady Lucy, to offer 
 to receive the little girl — she '11 be so safe and so 
 near, and off our hands. Upon my word, you lay me 
 under great obligation." 
 
 "I only repay one out of ten thousand you have 
 heaped on me," said Lady Lucy; "so you'll let her 
 come?" 
 
 And thus it was settled. Mr. FerroU announced it 
 at home as a most convenient arrangement, and was 
 surprised at liimself for not having thought of it as a 
 painful one, when he saw his wife's eyes fill with tears 
 as she went with Janet to the carriage, which was to 
 take her away. 
 
 "Good bye, Janet," he said, following hastily, and 
 stopping her to kiss her; and then as the carriage drove 
 away, he took his wife's arm ia his, and walked out 
 with her into the garden. "It is like the first days of 
 our maiTiage," he said, "to be so completely alone." 
 
 Here the Author gives extracts from the Journal kept 
 in common by Mr. Ferroll and Elinor: — 
 
 "The twelfth day of my superintendence. Cholera 
 goes on increasing. I was in the town early tins morning, 
 and found the nurses frightened away from the close 
 alleys. I went over every house to see what could bo 
 done. Money in such moderate doses as counties and 
 committees can give, would not tempt them yet to bravo 
 the infection, though in a few weeks one shall get hired 
 services as cheap as blackberries; but mothers nurse their 
 children, servants their masters. There seems an instinct
 
 PAUL FEEEOIX. 49 
 
 in common between mothers and servants. They can't 
 help being faithful. Ally Bean, No. 3, close alleys, was 
 without shoes; she had sold them to buy what she called 
 Salamanca, which a nt'ighbour said would cure her child. 
 In the state it is in, no doubt salammoniac wiU kill it, 
 but I did not tell her so. I said she had done very 
 wisely, for the evil was beyond remedy, and she will 
 think she should have saved it if anything could. 
 
 "Old Miss Fclton, 5, Cheap Sti-eet, daughter of the 
 Bishop Felton whom my gi-andfather bullied, is on the 
 highway to death. She looks like a squeezed orange. 
 »She is the first in lier sti-eet, and the neighbours have 
 slunk away. The old water-carrier and his old donkey 
 won't leave water at her door. There is a gray-haired 
 man, licr father's footman, li^dng a mile out of the town, 
 and I actually found him in her miserable room, making 
 gruel for her over the fire. Neither of them seemed to 
 think it anything out of the way that he should give his 
 help thus gi'atuitously, onlj- she lamented he was not a 
 Aroman, and he seemed much vexed at himself for the 
 fault. .She will die. 
 
 "Family of Jones, at 42, first turn in the close alleys. 
 Three of them ill; one just dead as I came in; nobody 
 seemed to mind the dead boy — too misernble. The 
 father who was nearly gone, fancied ho should recover 
 — he alone spoke of the dead. 'He '11 be in heaven 
 soon,' the father said, looking at him. — 'When?' 
 I asked. — The father seemed puzzled. 'As soon as 
 he's l)uried, sir, I suppose.' — 'And tlie parish must 
 bury him,' said the mother. They had in the house one 
 dead rabbit, poached or stolen: no water, no plate, no 
 salt, no fire. I gave money to a naked boy in the street 
 to act as theu' page, and as he seemed not to know 
 
 Paul Ferroll. 4
 
 50 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 what cholera meant, I suppose he will. I must see them 
 to-morrow. 
 
 "All day among the lanes and alleys — all day 
 among the frightened and dying; the stai'\Tng, feyercd, 
 tortiu'ed. It is a curious scene — a tragedy beiag acted 
 all day long; and hiunan nature naked and sincere as in 
 the time of great passions. I, the well and strong man, 
 have my stall at this opera, and see it all at my ease — 
 the more at my ease because I have something to do in 
 it. At seven o'clock I got away; mounted my horse, 
 and galloped home. What pleasure there is in galloping 
 home. The object is before one, at wliich to arrive 
 quickly; the still air becomes a wind, marking the swift- 
 ness of one's pace — the fleet horse is his own master, 
 yet my slave; the Ijodily employment leaves care, 
 thought, and time behind; one feels the pleasure of 
 danger, because there might be danger, and there is 
 none. And I, when I get home, see the beiag than 
 whom nobody in the world loves another as I love her. 
 And after all that dirt, misery, and ugliness, I find her 
 in her pure white muslin, the sleeves hanging about her 
 fair arms, with gold chains imder the musKn, her delicate 
 hair so delicately dressed, her little feet in their silk shoes; 
 her pm'e pale complexion, and the indescribable odour of 
 beauty breathing in the room. 8he kissed me twenty 
 times to-day, as if to make sure that if I had caught the 
 cholera, she must catch it too. ^Vnd if I had, I should 
 like to give it her, and die; but I am well. I enjoy 
 life — we both enjoy it. We dined, and sat down in 
 the library for the blessed evening; and here I am 
 finishing my journal, and then I will listen to her 
 divine voice singing; and when we have had enough of 
 that, read our book for an hour, and go to bed.
 
 PArX FEEKOLL. 51 
 
 "Thirtecntli day. I took a circuit of twenty miles 
 before going to AYallcester. Cholera has inoculated the 
 country, and the spots spread. I met High, the Ouston 
 apothecary, as I rode along. He looked very blank in- 
 deed. 'It's getting Ycry seiious, sir,' he said; 'two me- 
 dical men have died.' — 'But none of the visiting com- 
 mittee, have theyr' I asked. — 'Xot yet, sir,' he an- 
 swered, and went on in a very bad temper. Men don't 
 seem so much to mind death as the pain of dying. 
 Aymos, the old man of ninety, at Front Lane, who used 
 to say he was afraid God Almighty had forgotten him, 
 has left his cottage by help of a neighbour's cart, and 
 gone to Wisley, because cholera broke out at a house a 
 quarter of a mile off. As I passed through "Wisley I 
 called on him. 'They tell me, sir,' he said, 'that "Wil- 
 liam died three hours after he was taken ill. It's awful 
 sudden.' — 'Eut you can't die suddenly, my good old 
 Aymos,' I said; 'how many years have you been getting 
 Avorse I wonder:' — 'Aye, aye, sir, but they die all 
 before they are aware, and folks are afraid to bury 
 them.' 
 
 "I saw a case which would have frightened liim. 
 A young man, I don't know who he was, was sitting on 
 some steps in King Street; he had that paleness in liis 
 face which looks like something that is not a man — 
 a ghost, as people used to call it. I bade a man stay 
 near him, and ran to the hospital for a stretcher. On 
 this we laid him, helpless as a man of rag, and earned 
 liim to the cholera ward. Here, as we could not let him 
 die like a more happy dog, the doctors began to torment 
 lum, and by wasting a good deal of flannel and brand}^ 
 succeeded in making him conscious of his agony. And 
 I don't suppose the rack was ever worse. Those artili- 
 
 4*
 
 52 PADIi FEEEOLL. 
 
 cial spasms of the rack whicli jerk tlie joints in and out 
 of their places, were here natural. There was one Anne^ 
 whom he constantly aposti'ophized; and he seemed to 
 shrink from and put back imaginary kisses which Anne 
 was giving him. No Anne was there — no human 
 being who thought of liirn otherwise than as a cholera 
 patient; yet the poor lad's distress arose from overkind- 
 ness, and the danger to the life of this shadowy Aime. 
 I said to him at last, 'she won't catch it,' and he un- 
 glazed his eyes to hear me; but pain was too strong for 
 him, and I haA^ing no more time for tliis one among the 
 hundreds, left him, and went my way. I believe he is 
 in too miich pain to die yet; for when the end is 
 coming, these poor souls arc quite at ease. 
 
 "I ran from lane to lane, for the work to do was 
 enough for twenty men, and most of the committee were 
 frightened, and passed a vote that everything would be 
 best done by me. Amusement at their simple artifice, 
 which deceived them, and made them quite happy, and 
 the excitement of rushing about with a human spectacle 
 everywhere, so kindled my spirits, that I stopped at the 
 end of a by-way, and indulged in one quiet laugh. 
 A window opposite was open, admitting the sound I fear, 
 for a head came out — a pale head, with a black coat 
 close up to the face, and a narrow white collar over it; 
 a thin, white, large hand was laid on the wmdow sill. 
 'Who laughs?' said the voice of the head. — I was 
 rather ashamed; but I answered boldly, 'Mr. Ferroll.' — 
 'Sinner,' said the pale head, making the sign of the 
 cross over me; 'death will take you with the fool's scoff 
 in your mouth.' I knew loim then. It was the Roman 
 Catholic priest from Allerby, and I was grieved to have 
 shocked his sincere prejudices. I said, 'Let me come in,
 
 PAUL FERE OIL. 53 
 
 brother, and you will teach me better.' He answered, 
 'JS'o; the living scoffer may not interrupt the last 
 moments of the repentant dj-ing.' — 'But,' I said, 'will 
 you reject me — ■will you fail to profit by your oppor- 
 tunity of converting the shiner?' — 'The door is open,' 
 said the priest, drawing in his head. He was easily 
 gulled by my flattering words, so I pushed at it, and 
 ran up stairs, resolved to see all that men were doing in 
 this trying hoiir. He affected not to pay the least at- 
 tention to my entrance, or rather he acted a part with- 
 out confessing to himself that he was acting. His patient 
 was dying — the most absorbing and interesting spec- 
 tacle that we can see. The priest was engaged in the 
 act, which to a man of his faith is the most important 
 in the world — the act by which the soul is saved, and 
 A\-ithout which it is not saved. I was deeply interested 
 in watching both — the poor mortal insensible, but 
 labouring stUl "O'ith his hoa-s-ing chest — the K^ing man 
 touching him with the mystical oil, which in his faith- 
 ful persuasion was a communion with supreme spuits, a 
 fiat made out by his own hand, that this dead man was 
 to live with higher beings. Still even in those moments 
 he was not proof against the pleasure of making or feel- 
 ing liimself valued by a man of better rank and educa- 
 tion than his ordinary subjects. I could sec he gloried 
 in being a god ])efore me; in hax-ing the command even 
 of this obscure tragic gan-et — his gestures as much as 
 said, 'See, I have no regard to you. Observe, I go on 
 as if you were not here. I do not liasten or i*etard my 
 speech for you. You must be quiet, and note in silence, 
 and waiting upon me, aU I do.' And so I did; touched 
 more than he, by the ceremony wliich was compara-
 
 54 TXTIL FEEEOIX. 
 
 tively new to me, but a matter of every-day occurrence 
 to him. 
 
 "When it was oyer, he turned to me, and said a 
 few words in dog-Latin, the meaning of which I did not 
 catch — and then tried to pass. 'Are you going to 
 more patients?' I said. 'You look very ill, brother; you 
 should take rest yourself.' — ' That 's the advice,' he an- 
 swered, 'which one of your archbishops gave to his own 
 clergy; he said they had better not put themselves into 
 danger by confessing their flocks, for the doctor, not the 
 priest, was wanted.' — 'According to his belief that's 
 tr'ue,' said I. — 'Fatal belief, which sets the soul below 
 the body,' he answered. 'Tliink, su*, wliich religion does 
 that prove to be true?' — 'Or does it prove,' I asked, 
 very modestly, 'that he thinks the soul is not put into 
 danger by omitting to confess?' — 'But we know it is,' 
 said the priest. I looked very much struck by this 
 alignment, and then I offered him some money for the 
 use of the bodies of his people, or if he would keep it 
 to pay himself for saj^g masses, he is very welcome. 
 When we got to the subject of money he lost his digni- 
 ty; and thanked me with the scrape of liis foot, so im- 
 like the character we had relatively borne to each other 
 dm-ing the above scene, that I thought the tragedy 
 wanted dignity at its close. 
 
 "When I came home this evening, Elinor looked 
 pale. I thought instantly, 'Am I Ul too?' — dying to- 
 gether, and now, Avould be such a pleasure; we are so 
 happy, and at this moment so useful; and the inanimate 
 body laid in its last rest, always looks to me an en- 
 \dable thing, free as it is from every storm that can 
 blow."
 
 PAIXl FEEEOLL. 
 
 55 
 
 "Fifteenth day. — When I got to — to-day, I found 
 a messenger waiting to call me, before I went anywhere 
 else, to the committee. I found them round the table, 
 taken up with a new man who had been brought over 
 by Solly, who had an infallible remedy for the cholera. 
 If the district was given entii-ely into his management, 
 he undertook to cure them all. He had already done so 
 in the district round Cape Matapan. Solly was wholly 
 on the side of humanity he said, and of cuiing every- 
 body. He said he longed for cholera in his own person, 
 that he might show his reliance on his friend's remedy. 
 I begged to hear what was the treatment. The empiric 
 would not tell exactly, but said it was a pai-ticular ap- 
 plication of cold water. Cholera he informed us was 
 identical Avith hemon-hage; and then went off at length 
 to show the absurdity of ti'eating hemorrhage with sti- 
 mulants. I gave a few reasons for doubting the first 
 premise, but was not much listened to. Some of the 
 committee thought it wrong in a body intrusted with the 
 health of the distiict, to let the people die, when a 
 remedy was at hand; and some said they had had 
 bleeding at the nose, and had always used cold water 
 successfully. I went to tallc privately to the few ra- 
 tional, and found a party who could use their common 
 sense, and having agToed to stand by each other, I got 
 up and made my speech. I told them time was short; 
 the East Indies was the native place of cholera, certain 
 remedies were the authenticated remedies there; and 
 that I, and those about me, should resign our superin- 
 tendence if any other treatment were adopted. Solly 
 said he would resign if another treatment were not 
 adopted; but they did not believe liim; and after a little
 
 56 PA17JC, FEEEOII. 
 
 blustering lie gave in, and all things resumed their old 
 course." 
 
 Journal contkiued by Mrs. FerroU. — "Paul went 
 away this morning at seven o'clock. We were so late 
 last night singing, and then falling into talk, and talking 
 till near two o'clock, that neither of us had a mind to 
 get up. To be at the end of time would be a great 
 pleasure, so that one might go on doing pleasant things 
 as long as one liked, and find when done it was no later 
 o'clock than at the beginning. I do not love growing 
 older. We are young now; but there are not a great 
 many years to pass before we shall be at the end of 
 oiu' youth, and I begin not to wish that a future day 
 was come, whatever pleasure it is to bring. It is only 
 when one is almost a child, that life seems long enough 
 to wish one could skip over one of its weeks or months, 
 in order to reach a given day. But then to be sure, in 
 extreme youth one is not happy as one is (or can be) at 
 our age. This time, which is dismal as far as the 
 neighbourhood is concerned, is very, very happy to us. 
 Paul enjoys life intensely; and when he comes home so 
 do I. What a delightful companion he is — everything 
 he has seen and done is reproduced for me, so that 1 
 and he become one as to the events and feelings of the 
 day he has passed. All /have done, and am doing, is 
 equally interesting to him. What I wiite, and what I 
 read, what I sing, and whom I see; what I think, will 
 all come before us two again this happy evening. It is 
 like passing a hot simimer noon in the shade on the 
 Loire, as we did when we were first maraed — life 
 flo-s^ing over with abundance, but as still as it was 
 bright.
 
 VXUL FEEUOIX. 57 
 
 "I have been looking out the passages about great 
 national plagaes and sicknesses. The cholera is brood- 
 ing in his head into an article, and those passages T\ill 
 contribute to it. Kow I will read till I hear his step in 
 the hall, then the thing longed for will be come. I shall 
 want and wish nothing more; but whether silent or 
 talking, reading, eating, sleeping, shall be happy from 
 then till to-moiTow morning." 
 
 Ml-. Ferroll continues. — "I came home later than 
 usual. Elinor liad to pay for expecting me so confidently 
 by two hours of doubt. 'Has anytliing happened; what 
 can have happened; what can keep him so later' 
 I meantime, happy and easy, knew that nothing was the 
 matter, that waiting for the doctor kept me; and while 
 my pretty Elinor, my delicate, my fair, my dear, dear 
 wife, was in the fever of vain fears, I was trotting home 
 at the full pace of my horse, whistling and gazing from 
 side to side on the eastern shadow and the western glow. 
 But then came that clump, clump that she loves so well 
 to hear in the hall, and that self-reproach it is so easy 
 to make, when suspense is ended — 'How foolish I was 
 to fancy any harm.' After pain, to be at the end of 
 pain, to be enjoying the hours instead of suffering the 
 hours — that is the bliss of human nature, which the 
 mind finds it liard to beUeve. 
 
 "Thus it is with me — me, who have suffered in 
 this very house pain so inconceivable ! I know well that 
 I have really lived here, in this house, with that woman; 
 fancied myself tied to her for my life; known what you, 
 P^linor, were gouig through, and how I had had my for- 
 tune in my hand, and at the voice of a very devil 
 tlirown it away — all that is as true and real in my 
 imagination as it once was in fact; and often it comes in
 
 58 PAtJL FEEBOLL. 
 
 the place of the blessed present time, making the ex- 
 quisite noio give way to the hated past. In my dreams 
 I go back again into that horrible past; I become what 
 I was, though the last waking thought has been the 
 blessed thing I am. With you beside me, I dream you 
 are not my wife; I dream you are divided from me for 
 ever; the habitual misery of those two years resumes its 
 presence in sleep. It never yet has come into my dreams 
 how death delivered me from that woman, though it was 
 a strange and tragical way that he took. Dame Partlett 
 asked me one day (to ease her own doubts on the sub- 
 ject, I suppose), 'Ar'nt you very sorry for her?' / 
 
 sorry? No, I was very, veky, "VERY glad! But I 
 
 told her I was sorry I dreamed notliing bad last 
 
 night; I dreamed nothing at all, I tliink. Malthus speaks 
 prettily of manied life — 'So much iimocence, and so 
 much happiness,' he says. That sentence worked in my 
 head as I rode away from home, and seemed to keep a 
 sort of chime to every variety of pace of my horse. 
 Certainly the cholera increases; the more we do, the 
 fiercer it rises. But the people who suffer most from it, 
 being the inhabitants of miserable alleys, or of squalid 
 huts, die at least better off through our attentions than 
 ever they lived. Wten it attacks those who are a little 
 more at ease in their circumstances, it is borne least 
 patiently. 
 
 "I went on the accustomed roimd, and found all the 
 houses I visited the first week had had, or had now got, 
 a death in them. I came into James Bean's house just 
 as the thread of his child's life was spun out. It is 
 charming to see how poetical human nature is in its ex- 
 tremities. The expressions sometimes have a touch of 
 ludicrousness; but the sentiment is that which a poet
 
 PATL FEEEOII. 59 
 
 could best make use of. This girl of fourteen has always 
 been sickly. Her mother weeping by her, the girl said 
 feebly, for she was almost gone, 'Don't cry for me, 
 mother; I was always a poor body, and could not have 
 bustled for myself in the world. I'm glad I'm going.' 
 The pretty selfishness, too, pleased me. The dying are 
 doing such an important thing, they are such foremost 
 characters in the scene, that they feel a right to think 
 of themselves, and to be thought of, first and foremost 
 of all who bear a part in it." 
 
 Mrs. Ferroll. — "Paul set off in high spirits. He 
 was delightful all breakfast time, reading passages here 
 and there from the article he is writing, and bringing 
 out Ids imagination and memory, one picture after an- 
 other, ludicrous and pathetic, of what men do in the 
 course of their gi-eat excitements. Xobody but me knows 
 the perfection of his conversation; he must love as he 
 loves me, to be so one with his hearer; to listen as he 
 does, to talk all that is in his heart as he does, to be 
 equally desirous of expressing his whole meaning and 
 conception in words, as to work it out clearly in his 
 o-s^-n mind. This profoundly quiet life which I have led 
 since I married him, is the perfection of society. His 
 chosen friends, or rather I should say, his feUow workers 
 come to us, with all their bright wits out of harness; 
 quite at ease, yet in full exercise in our society, and 
 excited by him. ^^'e have none of the trammels of 
 neighbours, except good Lady Lucy, Dame Partlett, as 
 he calls her, who is very useful, and very dependant 
 upon us. Paul has avoided visiting all the others. 
 
 "While I wrote tliis the post came in. I saw Lady 
 Lucy's hand, but waited to finisli my sentence before I 
 opened her letter; but it is far too interesting now I have
 
 60 PATO TEEEOLI,. 
 
 read it. My pretty Janet is ill; tliey hope it is the 
 measles; but they don't know yet what it is. The out- 
 of-the-way place they are gone to can't furnish a good 
 doctor. I wish I could go to her at once; but without 
 bidding Paul good bye, I can't do that. I can't have 
 him come home, and find me gone, without his saying 
 go, to my going; and will you let me go, Paul? he 
 always tells me that a nurse and a governess are better 
 for a child than a mother, and perhaps it is so in gen- 
 eral; but then she is ill, and they don't know what it 
 is. Shall I go? I went up stairs, and rang for Preston 
 to get ready for a journey, but I could not do it. If I 
 were away, at this time to-morrow I should be so wishing 
 myself back. I never left him for pleasure in vnj life, 
 because it was more pleasant to be with him than any 
 other thing could be. This would not be for pleasure 
 indeed, excej)t the pleasure to myself of being with my 
 poor little darling, and I could not be of use to her — 
 yet I long to go. The miserable time when I thought 
 it impossible ever to belong to him, when all hope was 
 over, after I heard the fatal news of his maniage — 
 that time often comes over me, and I don't like to lose 
 a single day of his society. I feel afraid, lest there 
 should be the same time again; a time when I shall not 
 be with him; when I should think how mad 1 must 
 have been to waste one day away that we might have 
 passed together. I must wait till he comes home, before 
 deciding about the journey." 
 
 Mr. Perroll's hand - writing. — "Elinor is gone to 
 little Janet. There was the prettiest strife about it in 
 her mind; but when the post came this morning with 
 no letter from Dame Partlett, her uneasiness got the 
 better of her desire to remain, and here I am alone for
 
 PAT7L FEKEOLL. 61 
 
 the first time at home, for though I have left her some- 
 times, she never before left me. What am I without 
 her? something, something like that honible thing I 
 was when I had lost her for mine. I have just returned 
 from a most interesting day, and have no one to tell it 
 to; no Elinor, I ought to say, for she is the companion 
 to whom to think aloud. I can't enjoy anything without 
 her to talk to about it. 
 
 "I went into Key's district to-day, because he is ill 
 and gone away; how can he have the leisure to be sick, 
 in such a stirring time? 
 
 "There is a cottage on the Moor, which the occupier 
 had got by right of possession, and which had always 
 kept Hm from applying to the parish. They are ac- 
 customed therefore to intense poverty. The name is 
 Skenfrith. I went to it, and found all ill except the 
 mother and one big boy. She said the neighbours had 
 deserted her, and the doctor did not know of her. She 
 knew the doctor must be paid if he came, and for her 
 part she had no money to waste on doctors. The sick 
 child lay by its father and was crying. I bade it be 
 quiet, but it said it was hungTy. The father was far 
 worse, apparently sinking imder the disease; he motioned 
 me to come near him, at a moment when I had sent the 
 mother to my horse, which I heard pawing outside. 
 'Sir,' he said, 'make her give this little one a potatoe, 
 she has plenty there under the measure, but she keeps 
 them for her and Jem, who are both stout and likely to 
 live, she thinks it waste on us who must die; but the 
 little one here breaks my heart to be so hungry.' This 
 was a new trait in human nature to me — yet I re- 
 member the mother in the retreat from Moscow, who 
 threw out her child repeatedly on the snow, saying, 'Let
 
 62 PAUL FEKEOLL, 
 
 me be sared — he does not know what Paris is.' I 
 went to the measure and lifted it, and true enough there 
 was a store of provisions, which the parent -with stem 
 calculation kept for those whom it could profit. She 
 came in at the moment, and suffered all the pain of 
 detection — doing it had seemed right enough; hut she 
 knew how it would look to other people, and was 
 ashamed. I did not reproach her. What right had I? 
 I merely gave food to the cliild and money to the mother; 
 but I told her I would have a nurse here, from whom I 
 should ask account of what was sent for the sick; she 
 was more womanly than her acts, for she began to cry. 
 The big lubberly boy got on one side and grinned. 
 
 "At the next house I went to, Jolm Parry's, the 
 news, wliich they told me at once, and without any 
 thought of John Parry's state, was, that Lord Ewyas had 
 been attacked by cholera. 'They say my lord will die,' 
 said Mrs. Parry; 'Lord a' mercy on us, to think of such 
 a thing!' I asked why friend John was without medi- 
 cine. Why, John's son was Boy's boy at the great house, 
 and had been sent on the Boy's boy's pony to Whit- 
 church, to get mustard for my lord's plaster — the house- 
 keeper being 'out of mustard.' All the family seemed 
 so perfectly satisfied with these reasons, that I expressed 
 my hearty concurrence in them also. 
 
 "I called at Harold's Castle, and found he really 
 was ill. Lady Ewyas was frightened, and was kept in 
 agitation by the apothecary, who was very happy in 
 frightening the great lady. Lord Ewyas lay in bed, 
 th biking lie should die, and also, that it was the most 
 serious calamity that could befall the whole country. 
 How unobservant flattered men are! how came he not 
 to know that the accession of the next Lord Ewyas
 
 PAUL FEBKOIi. 63 
 
 would be the 'auspicious event' of the newspapers? I 
 told liim my sincere opinion, which was, that he would 
 not die. He did not look like a squeezed orange; and 
 the physician had left judicious directions. In the midst 
 of his pain, Lord Ewyas kej)t in mind his desire to have 
 me one of liis private lieutenants — one of his habitues. 
 He made a tolerably well-tumed speech about the Eu- 
 bicon and his threshold, and thought I should come 
 here on a gaudy-day', a month hence — but I will not. 
 They shall not say I have ever been their companion, 
 any of them; they can't help being obliged to me, but 
 I can help their saying I was intimate in their houses. 
 
 "Elinor's letter — dear, well -written, Avell- folded 
 letter — so carefully dii-ected, because she loves me best 
 of all things, and keeps up all her superiority in my 
 eyes now, as much, or more, than when she wrote me 
 her first dear letter. Little Janet has nothing but 
 measles; / want Elinor most. I will fall ill to get Elinor. 
 Suppose I should catch this cholera, in the midst of 
 which I live, and die before she could get back, how 
 she would regret being away for that childish complaint. 
 Thinking of dj-ing, we always fancy wc should live 
 among the regrets for our death; should enjoy all the 
 vain regrets; should be the object, enjoying being the 
 object of their sympathy for our insensibility. We see 
 the pomp of the dead; and when we are to play the 
 first cliaracter in a funeral, feel as if wc should be there 
 as well as our body. Elinor tells me notliing about the 
 I»ills or draughts they give poor Janet — how right she 
 is. If Elinor had been like other mothers, bidding her 
 child after dinner drink port wine to do it good, or 
 telling the man-father about its stomach, I must have 
 hated it. Children give me an unpleasant feeling na'
 
 64 PAUL FEEEOLIi, 
 
 turally; tliey are slimy; the water is apt to run out of 
 tlieir mouths; their noses are out of order; one fancies 
 the nurses pawing them all over to wash them. "With- 
 out such a mother, and such conduct, Janet would have 
 disgusted me, though she is a picture of beauty. In a 
 frame there is nothing I should admire so much. She 
 is far more lovely than her darling mother, and will be 
 a beautiful woman. Then it will be her turn to be 
 loved, to be adored by some young fellow now growing 
 up behind some wall or mountain out of sight; or, in- 
 deed, no farther off than the park- gate perhaps; for 
 that lad is in calf-love now; but that shall never, ne- 
 ver be. 
 
 "This is four in the morning, and I am just come 
 in, yet I can't go to bed — why should I, -^hen that 
 lace border is not there, that forehead fleshy-white under 
 the muslin whiteness; that frail, pliant hand, Avliich 
 seems to squeeze altogether in mine. When I had writ- 
 ten my Journal, I had notliing to do, for there was no 
 Elinor. I got a fresh horse, and set out galloping quite 
 away from home. I rode on till every cottage light was 
 out. During that time I watched how the lower room 
 ceased to hold the candle, and how it climbed to the 
 upper chamber. I heard, when I stopped my horse 
 near one of those on the moor, a man's voice in the bed- 
 room, wliich was but a little way above my head, re- 
 peating, during two minutes, a prayer. I could easily 
 perceive the monotonous sound of repetition, then a 
 steadfast 'Good night,' and the candle went out. 
 
 "The moor was in a white mist. On the little 
 eminences I was above the mist, and the moon made it 
 thinner and more full of light than can be expressed by 
 words. Passing through the mist it was piercingly cold.
 
 PAUL FEEEOLL. 65 
 
 It -svas a kind of cruelty of nature, careless of the human 
 being -who came out at an undue time, and in disregard 
 of "whom, nature went on doing as she was in the habit 
 of doing. I rode sti'aight iato the Meer by mistake, for 
 water and the misty land seemed all one; and once in, 
 I took a gi'eat dcKght in swimming my horse across; he 
 Uked it, too, brave brute, tossing his crest, and plough- 
 ing along. I had great difficulty in getting out, for the 
 bank broke away under his feet, and he grew impatient 
 and alarmed. I was obliged to force him out at the first 
 place he could hold at all, and he nearly fell backwards 
 as he climbed the rock above the Trout's pool. You 
 would never have seen me again, Elinor, if he had. 
 Once out, we galloped wildly for half an hour up the 
 scaurs and down the brakes, the frantic wind tearing 
 past the other way. At last I came to the waterfall, 
 the devil's milk-pail; and I put my horse's bridle round 
 a young tree, so that he could eat the delicate short 
 grass, pulled off my clothes, and went hi to bathe. The 
 water plunging heavily iuto the basin, and I had a 
 strong, imceasing contest — it to push me out, and I to 
 swim up against it. I came out, and dressed in the 
 moonlight, and then ran Avith my horse's bridle over my 
 arm down Stoncy-pitch, and into the common-place high- 
 road below. It was gi'owing light, so I hastened home, 
 made Eampage comfortable in his stall, got in at the 
 window, and have Hghtcd a blazing fire, by which I 
 will now lie down and sleep for two or three hours, till 
 it is time to go to the cholera again. 
 
 "Evening. — I could not sleep though the fire was 
 excellent, and it came into my head that if I went to 
 ]»ewdy post-office before tlie mail-cart left it, I could get 
 Elinor's letter two hours before the time due here, so I 
 
 Paul Ferroll. 5
 
 66 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 got Fidget out of the stable, and let liim take his own 
 pace to the town. The postmaster believed I expected 
 some important cholera communication from the Prime 
 Minister, so sorted me out my letters — looked them 
 over to the last, and there was none from Elinor. Now 
 the time is a blank till next post. When I have read 
 her words and got her hand- writing in my pocket, com- 
 mon things can get their due observance, but Avithout it 
 I care for nothing. And what can be the reason she 
 does not write? while I galloped up to the post-office my 
 bosom's lord sate lightly on his throne, and that always 
 means evil. Yet the others, the Bartletts, would have 
 written — she would have made them — evil, no! it's 
 only some accursed pill or draught to be given to the 
 child, and the letter was forgotten; so I did not put 
 mine into the post for her, yet it was worth having, 
 Elinor; a soul's adoration like that is preciously valuable. 
 What, forgot^ delayed to vsrite to your husband, for 
 thinking of a child? I'm a child though, half; I know 
 that thou dost love me. Nevertheless, I turned back in 
 a black temper, repassed my house, and went on to 
 Cholera Town without stopping. 
 
 "The committee asked me to dine with them; but I 
 could not eat, nor bear the thought of eating. If I had 
 had a letter, food would have had its taste, wine its 
 aroma, but not without. I went into Lad Lane, and did 
 not leave a house without a ■visit; the atmosphere of 
 horrible smells gave me pleasure. It was so like poison, 
 that it took off my thoughts from the constant feeling of 
 the want of a letter. I got people together, being so 
 cross and peremptoiy to-day, who would not have come 
 otherwise, and had drains opened, filth removed, patients 
 changed from bed to bed. One dying gkl had got a
 
 PAUL FEEEOLL. 67 
 
 rose in a pot, and conjured me to give it water; her 
 reason was half gone, half hoveling still about her. 
 I came home late — drank a river of tea — I shall go 
 to bed. 
 
 "Eighteenth day, — I am a child and not a man — 
 here are two letters, yesterday's and to-day's, both sent 
 in their due time; but one delayed by some d — d bag 
 or postman. Now that the waiting is over, it seems as 
 if it would be easy to wait. Oh, absurd prosperity, who 
 givest lessons to those in trouble. Janet is round the 
 comer of her complaint, and Elinor will be at home to- 
 moiTow evening. I am ill. I passed a miserable night. 
 Horrid dreams — dreams that lasted when I was awake, 
 I suppose the night ride, and the want of sleep, &c., did 
 not agree with me; I'll set about getting well — go to 
 bed and cure myself. Thej' will all say it's the cholera; 
 and I choose they should, rather than say I did 
 too much for my strength." — End of Extract from 
 Journal. 
 
 Mr. FeiToU went to bed accordingly, and began to 
 cure liimself; but he was too iU to go on with his Jour- 
 nal; and though he was, in fact, better when his wife 
 and Janet arrived, he could but just receive her at the 
 door Avith his fond folding anns, and was obliged to go 
 to bed again immediately. She was frightened, and 
 watched him with alarmed anxietj^; she saw it set before 
 her, that her treasure was mortal, and every other 
 feeling was absorbed in that one. He, on the contrary, 
 was happy, was at rest, now that she was again in liis 
 presence; he was like a maji after a hard day's toil re- 
 posing, and enjoying home; that man Avould as soon go 
 out again into the cold and tlie hcaAy roads, as Eerroll 
 let his Nvife go out of hearing and out of sight. It was 
 
 5*
 
 68 PAXIL FEEKOLL. 
 
 her purpose and sole inclination to sit by liim, to hold 
 his hand, to pass the night at his bedside, and it did 
 not enter his head to send her to rest, except such rest, 
 as by every liixury attainable within his own room, she 
 could enjoy. He had pillows and velvet coverings ar- 
 ranged for her easy chair; he had fruits of the very .best 
 prepared for her refreshment; he had her long hair 
 twisted and cared for in liis presence, and then he took 
 her hand and fell asleep , as she sate by him to pass the 
 watches of the night. 
 
 Little Janet meantime was hustled away to the 
 nursery, nobody thinking much of her repeated questions 
 as to how her father was. She had come home a little 
 heroine, in all the honom-s of recent recovery; and her 
 mother's maid had talked to her about how glad papa 
 would be to see her safe and well. Janet was little 
 enough in the habit of feeling herself of importance; but 
 this time the attention paid her in her sickness, and her 
 mother's journey on purpose to take care of her, had 
 given some innocent sense of self-importance. She ar- 
 rived at home, expecting to be canied upstairs perhaps 
 by her father himseK, and of coming down again to the 
 almost unexampled pleasure of passing the evening in 
 the drawing-room. But her hopes were entirely over- 
 thrown. She fell at once back into her imimportance, 
 and felt she was the object of least consequence in all 
 the house. Childhood takes for granted what is set be- 
 fore it. Janet was quite of the general opinion about 
 herself; and all the unhappiness she felt was on her 
 father's account; but the nurse was getting her own tea; 
 the housemaid told Janet that there was nothing the 
 matter, at the same time that she whispered to the nurse 
 words more awful to the little girl from their mystery
 
 PATJI, FEEBOLL. 69 
 
 than anytliing; plainly spoken could have been, and 
 finallY Janet ^vas tucked up in bed, and bidden to be a 
 good girl and go to sleep, rather before her usual time, 
 because she had been ill, and because the maids wanted 
 a gossip after their separation. Janet lay cndng, and 
 thinking her father must die; she could not get wami in 
 bed, and she \ras asleep and awake all night long. By 
 five o'clock in the morning she could bear it no longer; 
 and getting softly up, put her feet into her slippers, 
 wrapped her cloak round her shoulders, and set off on 
 an expedition to the door of her father's room. Janet 
 was very beautiful; there was not so pretty a picture in 
 that shire, in a frame cr out of it, as Janet in this dress, 
 with the clouds of her fair hair in confusion over her 
 head, descending the stairs in cautious silence. Mrs. Fer- 
 roll, who was watching still, heard the indistinct sound 
 of some one passing in the passage — she perceived 
 that the person whoever it was stopped beside the door, 
 and there remained in perfect silence. Her husband was 
 asleep, and she would not move, for fear of disturbing 
 him. The little watcher staid so long, that her mother 
 forgot the faint impression her indistinct approach had 
 made; she was only recalled to it by a stifled sob, which 
 Janet could not repress, for the silence, and the want of 
 a comforter, made her think all mournful things — that 
 her father was dead — that her mother was silent 
 through miserj*, and might die too. Mrs. Ferroll heard 
 the sob, and then understood that it must be Janet who 
 was there; and very softly rising, undid the door, with 
 her finger on her lip, and saw the little girl cowering 
 outside. She got up at sight of her mother, colouring 
 ■\4olcntly. "^\Tiat are you doing here, darling?" said 
 Mrs. FeiToll. "You'll catch cold and be ill again."
 
 70 PAUL FEBROLL, 
 
 "I wanted to hoar about papa," said Janet, beginning 
 to cry in right earnest. 
 
 "Hush!" said Mrs. Ferroll, hastily. "He's better, my 
 Jeannie — he is asleep, and will be well soon, I think. 
 Don't be afraid of anything. If you'll be quite quiet 
 you shall see him;" and she led the child into the room, 
 and both stood at the foot of the bed, looking at the 
 sleeping man. What profound admiration, love, venera- 
 tion, there was in those two hearts for the man they 
 were looking on. Kings on their thrones never get such 
 worship as the husband and the father from the faithful, 
 believing wife and daughter. The wife feeling there is 
 no such man in the world; the daughter hclieving it. The 
 helplessness of sleep was another charm upon them. The 
 relaxed mouth, the closed eyes, the disarranged hair, 
 the helpless attitude, gave a feeliag of protection needed 
 by him, not yielded. It was very rare, if not unex- 
 ampled, to Janet to see her father asleep, and the filial 
 adoration she felt blazed up higher than ever. It would 
 have 'been a happy hour if she might have sate down 
 silent by the bed-side and watched. But her mother, 
 fearful of the cold for her, after her illness, before long 
 kissed her softly, and sent her upstairs. The clock 
 struck six as Janet came back to her room; and then 
 full of the news about her father, began telling all she 
 had heard and seen, un doubting about the interest she 
 was to excite. But the nurse woke up in wrath, and 
 seeing her charge proceeding to dress herself, at the 
 same time that the clock on the table announced that 
 there was yet time to turn again and slumber, she gave 
 out her opinions upon the subject of filial anxiety. 
 "You're a very naughty girl. Miss EerroU, that you are, 
 to be trapesing about the house at this time of night.
 
 PATH FEKROIX. 71 
 
 It's oiily to make yourself disagreeable, you know, that 
 you go papa-ing that vray. Can't papa sleep or wake 
 without you waking up all the house? PuU. off your 
 stockings, miss, and go to bed again; and you shaU. have 
 no butter for brealvfast, that you shan't." 
 
 Lady Lucy Bartlett returned after the cholera sub- 
 sided; but not till the cold weather had begun, for the 
 first frost she remarked was a great thing. She was 
 very much disposed to be jolly, and to celebrate the ge- 
 neral emancipation from fear, by feasting and meny- 
 making. But though the simplest woman in the world, 
 she was afraid that her character, as a disconsolate 
 widow, would suffer by the renewal of gaiety in her 
 house, and was wandering among common placeisms to 
 find reasons to be merry. "It's a great sacrifice to ???e," 
 she said, "to give up the seclusion I've lived in since 
 my misfoitune; but the young people are growing up, 
 and young people will be young people, Mr. FerroU." 
 
 "And you Uke to see them enjoy themselves," 
 said he. 
 
 "Certainly, in. a quiet way; there's nothing surprising 
 in that." 
 
 "Xor in a noisy way either. Don't you think," said 
 he, "poor Mr. Bartlett would have done the same if he 
 had had the misfortune to sumdve your" 
 
 "That's wliat I often say to myself. I am sure my 
 dear Chnstopher would have exerted himself for the 
 young people's sake." 
 
 "And have liked it himself too, Lady Lucy. You 
 ouglit to like their amusements you know; Mr. Bartlett 
 would have liked them." 
 
 "That's true, too, and so I sometimes tliink. If he
 
 72 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 had been alive, I say to myself, he would have con- 
 quered his own feelings for the sake of the children." 
 
 "Besides one is not to murmur, you know, at what 
 happens to one." 
 
 "Oh dear no; I'm sui-e I'm the last person to say 
 one should, and indeed people might think I was 
 repining if they saw me always in solitude, without 
 company; besides we are much better able to afford 
 seeing company than we were at first after my mis- 
 fortune." 
 
 "So you'll have a little society this Christmas?" 
 
 "Why — don't you think so?" 
 
 "I do, by all means." 
 
 "Nothing noisy you know; just a few neighbours." 
 
 "Or a ball; what do you think of giving a ball?" 
 
 "Well," said Lady Lucy. 
 
 "How your son would enjoy that, and so would 
 Arabella and Mary; Janet tells me they have learned to 
 dance this summer." 
 
 "Why, I thought they must learn sometime, though 
 the sound of the violin in the house was very trying." 
 
 "And the Herberts' sons will be at home from col- 
 lege," said Mr. FerroU. "Indeed everybody, when 
 
 Cliristmas is come and the saloon will do for the 
 
 ball room and the Hall for supper." 
 
 "Oh no; the dining room for supper, and we can 
 dine in the school room that day; and the Hall will be 
 best for dancing, for it can hold a hundred people." 
 
 "That will be best," said Mr. Ferroll; "let us call 
 Elinor, and you two can make out a list of guests." 
 
 From that time the ball was a fixed thing. The 
 young Bartletts seized on the idea with ecstasy, and the 
 mother was as happy as they in their i:)leasure and her
 
 PAUX FEEEOLL. 73 
 
 own. She even thought it a duty she o^ved her cliiklren 
 to leave oif bhick, and order a lavender satin gown with 
 a most delicate black fern-leaf upon it. She went alone 
 into her dressing room one morning when the children's 
 lessons were going on, and her maid was at dinner, and 
 took out and looked over her diamonds which wanted a 
 little cleaning, so she packed them up and sent them to 
 London, with orders to have them back before the 17th 
 of January. 
 
 "When the day came she walked over to the Tower 
 in the morning for a few words of consultation, and 
 then, for the fh'st time, plainly imderstood (for she had 
 feared but would not clear up her doubts) that Mr. Fer- 
 roll himself did not mean to come to the dance. All tlie 
 arguments she used were confuted; her next weapon was 
 the assurance that her enjoyment would be spoiled if he 
 did not come, and tears started to her eyes as she asked 
 whether he would not do so much as that even, for a 
 lonely widow like her. He told her that her enjoyment 
 would be in seeing her children so happy; and that he 
 had more right to ask whether she, with her neighbours 
 and family all about her, would not do so much as 
 leave the enjoyment of his own pursuits to a good 
 neighbour like him. She was forced to smile; she saw, 
 indeed, before her, the gay scene of the evening, and 
 felt she had not told the truth in saying her enjoyment 
 would be spoiled by his absence, but had said it would, 
 had even thought it would, as a means to make him 
 come. "Well, at least, I'm sure of Mrs. Ferroll and 
 Janet," she said, rising to go aAvay. 
 
 "Oh, there's no doubt of us," said Mrs. Ferroll, and 
 good Dame Partlett withdrew. 
 
 Mrs, Ferroll was so much in the habit of thinking
 
 74 PAUI FEEEOLL. 
 
 her liusband would refuse all county invitations as a 
 matter of course, that it did not occur to her that he 
 might ever accept one ; but while she was dressing, while 
 she sat silent during the arrangement of her hair, her 
 book dropped on her knee, and she began to consider 
 whether on an extra occasion like this, it would not 
 have been natural for him to break through his custom. 
 "He loves everything loveable," she said, "loves pretty 
 faces, pretty clothes, graceful music; — beauty and grace 
 are better perceived by, are more perceptible to him than 
 to most people, and he feels their meiit more. The sound 
 of the merry Bartletts' voices, and their large full hall 
 would give him food for his appetite for pleasant impres- 
 sions. Why does he so resolutely refuse ever to go from 
 home?" 
 
 These meditations were broken off by the placing of 
 the flowers in her hair, which demanded her own atten- 
 tion as well as that of her maid. Then came putting on 
 the new gown, a gown most beautifully made by Mrs. 
 Johnstone in Dover Street, and fresh from its deal box, 
 and overlappings of silver paper. She was pleased mth 
 her own appearance, and went in search of Mr. FerroU 
 to show herself to him. He was in the library, and 
 Janet was there too, well dressed in great simplicity, and 
 standing by a table admiring some flowers, while her 
 father sat reading near the fire. "Come and let me look 
 at you, Elinor," he said, as his wife entered the room. 
 "You are beautiful, you are embellished; you are all 
 moonlight, and the breath of violets. How can there be 
 such beautiful things made as women, as women like 
 you. So that's the way you wear your lace frills. It's 
 very pretty; it's new, yet looks like something everybody 
 ought always to have done."
 
 PAUL FEKKOLL. 75 
 
 "And mamma," said Janet, drawing tip to her, and 
 pointing to the table, "there is your beautiful nosegay 
 papa has made for you." 
 
 "Bring it, Jeannie." 
 
 And Jeannie brought it -with the most scrupulous 
 care, admiring with sincere eyes, and sajdng, "Papa cut 
 it himself; he asked me for some sillc to tie it up; papa 
 tied it for you himself." 
 
 Mr. Ferroll looked at her as she stood by her mother's 
 side, who was engaged in admiring what her husband 
 had done, as' was Janet also, and watching how her 
 mother disposed of it. ATr. Fen'oll took the scissors again 
 from the table, went back into the green-house, and re- 
 turned with a spray of euphorbia with its green leaves, 
 which he held out to Janet. "A flower for you too, 
 Janet," he said. 
 
 Janet looked as if she did not believe in her good 
 fortune for an instant, then the brightest colour came into 
 her face, and "Oh, thank you, papa," was said in the 
 voice of childish delight, which receives something better 
 than the cliild ever knew before. 
 
 "It's a beautiful flower, Jeannie," answered her mother, 
 to her child's delighted eyes. " I'll fasten it for you with ■ 
 this little gold pin; it just suits your white frock; and 
 mine I'll hold in my hand. "What are you reading, 
 Paul?" 
 
 "Oh, a stupid book, I think, my dearest." She looked 
 at it, and saw it was a book which he usually appreciated 
 as highly as it deserved; it was plain he wanted the 
 power to enjoy reading. 
 
 "Come with us, my dear Paul," she said, putting her 
 hand on his arm.
 
 76 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 "Don't ask me, for fear I should," he said, speaking 
 before her own words were finished. 
 
 The tone of his voice struck her to the heart; the 
 warm exulting blood was suddenly chilled, and she re- 
 peated ia quite an altered voice, " Why don't you come 
 with us, my dearest Paul?" 
 
 "Shall I tell your" he said, chasing away the se- 
 riousness of his face with a bright smile, but she could 
 not forget the tone which had stmck her, slight as it 
 was, nor let liim change the subject thus. 
 
 "Yes, tell me, let it be what it may, can there be a 
 thought hidden between you and me?" 
 
 "What! would you stay from this ball and listen to 
 me, supposing I would tell you?" 
 
 "Aye, all night," she said, beginning to slip off her 
 gloves as she said so. 
 
 "jSTay, it won't take so long," said Mr. FerroU, laying 
 his hand on her arm; "a word that will never be for- 
 gotten is soon said." 
 
 "All, for heaven's sake, tell me," she cried. 
 
 "Well then, Elinor, the reason why I don't go, is — 
 listen, my dearest — because I don't like it." 
 
 "Oh, Paul — oh, husband, you laugh at me." 
 
 "No I don't, I could laugh at my saint much sooner; 
 with -you I will laugh — cry till you come back, and 
 then laugh at all you have to tell me. Good bye, good 
 night, Janet. I must work hard at my article, so fare- 
 well, my two." 
 
 Mrs. Ferroll was contented with the playful explana- 
 tion she had received, and Janet adored her father for 
 coupling her with mother in his farewell. 
 
 The Bartletts' hall looked admirably well in its gay 
 dress, and all the family seemed so happy and pleased
 
 PAUIi FEKEOLL. 77 
 
 with -vrhat they had done, that it warmed their guests' 
 hearts to see them. The eldest girl had got a new gown, 
 made by a milliner, the first she had ever had of such 
 an origin; the sign she was come out, too; her pleasure 
 in it was intense; the admiration of her younger sisters 
 unconcealed. "Janet," they said, "does not Emma's gown 
 look beautiful? your mamma thought it too full, but it 
 is not, do you tliiak; is it?" 
 
 "And, Janet, is not the hall bright?" said the 
 youngest. "Before any company came, I tried to thread 
 my littlest needle quite at the end of the hall; and I 
 could do it quite easily, as easily as daylight." 
 
 "Janet, you've got a very pretty flower," said an- 
 other, "and Hugh 'has got a beauty for you." 
 
 It was quite true, but Hugh knew he could not 
 dance yet with Janet, and he had put his flower in 
 water, to have it ready for the time when he might so 
 far indulge himself. Janet was the object of his boyish 
 heart; though ever since Mr. Ferroll had so early forbid- 
 den the match, it had become rather a delicate point in 
 the family, and had settled into a decision that Hugh 
 loved Janet as much as if she had been one of liis 
 sisters. But young Bartlett at school soon began to 
 judge for himself, and in his own mind it was quite 
 clear that he should never marry anybody else. Janet 
 had heard the matter talked about in the nursery, and 
 how angry ilr. FeiToll had been, and had grown up in 
 the faith that it would be both wrong and ridiculous to 
 tliink about Hugh as her little husband; and this faitli 
 had gone on unquestioned as she became older, along 
 with other cliildish principles, and as far as the subject 
 ever occurred at all, acqidrcd force with her years. Be- 
 sides this, she was in a relative position to him, which
 
 78 PATJl FERKOLL. 
 
 diminished, the influence of his greater age, and his situa- 
 tion upon Janet's niind, and increased her influence over 
 him. Janet lived in an atmosphere of clever people, and 
 subjects were famiHar to her, which were kept for the 
 sad school-room hours of most children. Feeling that she 
 knew almost nothing at home, she came to know a great 
 deal more than her contemporaries; and at the Hall it 
 was a marvel to Hugh how Janet knew everythiag and 
 his sisters nothing. She also got the quiet and good 
 manner of a child living alone with highly-accomplished 
 people; even her romps were better bred than the romps 
 of the Eartletts. The outbreaks which were under least 
 control, had the "sweet one of gracefulness," while the 
 control over them came from the inaids and a dull 
 mother. 
 
 Hugh Bartlett therefore felt she was more of a woman 
 than her years warranted; he was on the watch to please 
 her; he must know and do something better than shoot 
 sparrows to get Janet for his companion, so that at six- 
 teen, and she twelve, he was really and seriously in love 
 with her. "Janet," he came to her, and said, "promise 
 to dance with me the fourth quadrille. I have done 
 Lady Anne, and have got Bessey Price, and Joan Blunt, 
 and Lady Peners to do, and then will you, Janet?" She 
 Avillingly promised. 
 
 "Why, you've got a flower, Jeannie," he said; "who 
 gave it you? don't you know my white camellia that I 
 have been taking care of for you?" 
 
 "Have you really, Hugh?" 
 
 "Why, you know that as well as I do; why do you 
 pretend you don't?" 
 
 "Oh, well; Pm very much obliged to you."
 
 PAUL FERROLI. 79 
 
 "Who gave you that red one? it does not become 
 
 you." 
 
 "I'm sure it does, Hugh," said Janet, colouring 
 violently. 
 
 "You mean you like the giver better than me." 
 
 "So I do," said Janet, a little angry. 
 
 "Oh Jeannie!" cried Hugh, and very angiy himself, 
 he Tralked away. 
 
 " She 's such a cliild ," Janet heard her mother saying. 
 " There 's no need to introduce you. This is my little 
 girl, liord Ewyas. " 
 
 He made Janet a Ioav bow, such as she never before 
 received; quite surprised, she made him a low curtsey. 
 He told her his friend Mr. Standish would Kke to have 
 the honour of dancing with her. Mrs. Ferroll said Janet 
 would be very glad to dance, and the pair went away. 
 
 "Is not I'erroll here?" asked Lord Ewyas. 
 
 "Xo, not even here," said Mrs. FerrolL "I tiied to 
 bring him, but it was all in vain." 
 
 "I .shall try to get Mrs. FerroU without him," said 
 Lord Ewyas, smiling, "since I see she can leave him, 
 and since he will have nothing to do with any of us." 
 
 "You are very kind. I am sincerely obliged to you; 
 but without him it is impossible." 
 
 "Xot impossible, for you are here." 
 
 "Oh, but that is to such a near neighbour; and for 
 two hours." 
 
 "Two hours is the limit of your liberty?" 
 
 "Xo, no," said Mrs. Fen-oll, colouring a little; "but 
 it would be hard to leave him alone merely to amuse 
 myself." 
 
 "Then it does amuse you?" 
 
 "To be sure."
 
 80 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 "Then if I were Mr. Ferroll, I think I would come 
 with you, to prevent the necessity of shortening your 
 amusement. I tldnk I would. I can't say positively wliat 
 I should do, if I did not like going out myself, for man 
 is a tj-rannical and selfish animal." 
 
 "Are you?" said Mrs. rcrroll, smiling. 
 
 "Not I only. Men in general are so, though they 
 often hide it; but Ferroll disdains to hide any tiling. He 
 says openly, I have a wife whom everybody wishes to 
 get into society, but she shall stay at home to make so- 
 ciety for me." 
 
 "Well, and she is very glad he thinks it worth while 
 to say so." 
 
 "But I am very sorry — we all are very sorry — we 
 want you both. There is not so useful a man, so accom- 
 plished a man in the county, as your husband; but he 
 refuses our intimacy, as if we were clods of the earth. 
 Why does he, Mrs. Fen-oU?" 
 
 "That I really can't tell you," she answered, think- 
 ing of the explanation her husband had given just before 
 she left home. 
 
 "But tell me then, if it is impossible, ivhy is it im- 
 possible, that yoii, who do like us a Httle, should not 
 come to see LadyEwyas; see the castle; it is what people 
 come from Eussia to see; and you hardly know it." 
 
 "You are very kind; I should like it extremely, 
 but " 
 
 "But ivhy is it impossible?" 
 
 "To tell truth, I don't exactly know; I will think 
 why it is — let me take your arm to go and look after 
 Janet; the quadrille will be over in two minutes." 
 
 This was the third quadrille; and the fourth Janet 
 was to dance with the master of the house. He was ia
 
 PAVL FERKOLI,. 81 
 
 liigh spirits; a good deal excited by being tlie master of 
 the evening; by being necessary as the partner of the 
 greater ladies; as being appealed to by the butler when 
 lemonade was to be brought in, when supper should be 
 ready, &c. But his excitement on other subjects did but 
 make him the more eager about the dance with Janet. 
 He ran for his beautiful camellia, and was not away half 
 a minute, and holding it in liis hand, came back to 
 Janet flushed and triumphant. "Xow, Janet, I'm ready. 
 A quadrille, band," he said, looking back to the 
 orchestra — "here's your camellia — it's pretty well, 
 is not it?" 
 
 "Very prettj- indeed," said Janet, taking it and ad- 
 miring. "Thank you very much." 
 
 "Eut you must wear it, Jeannie." 
 
 "Yes, if mamma can pin it along with this one," 
 she said, making a movement to go in quest of her 
 mother. 
 
 "Xo, no, alone; you promised to wear my flower 
 weeks ago, and you're not fair if you don't." 
 
 "I did not promise to wear it alone. I am fair." 
 
 "But who has a better right than I to give you a 
 flower?" said Hugh, somewhat manUly. 
 
 "But I've a right to wear what I like," said Janet, 
 somewhat childishly. "I do like yours, but " 
 
 "But you Like another's better," cried Hugh. "Tell 
 me who, Janet?" 
 
 "I love papa better," said Janet, colouring deeply. 
 
 "You won't tell me, you trifle," said Hugh, and 
 snatching at the euphorbia, he scattered the red blossoms 
 and the green leaves on tlie floor. 
 
 "Papa gave it me," said Janet, bursting into tears, 
 and stooping down to pick up the fragments. 
 
 Paul Ferioll. Q
 
 82 PAin TEEEOLL. 
 
 "Wliat, really," said Hugh, rather ashamed. Janet 
 said notliing, but sobbed and picked up the flowers. Her 
 mother hearing the childish sounds came up, and Janet's 
 tears stopped; while Hugh also stooped and collected the 
 fragments. "Look, I had this one for her," he said, when 
 Mrs. FeiToU began to inquu-e;' "and was it right of Janet 
 to wear a red one, and not tell me who not tell " 
 
 "It's the best white camellia I've seen," said Mrs. 
 Fen-oll. "It will take the place of the red flower very 
 well. Here, Janet, I'll put it on for you. I can fasten 
 it, instead of the poor euphorbia, Hugh;" and while she 
 did so, she said a word or two to Janet, wliich her 
 training in obedience made perfectly effectual, both to 
 dry her eyes, and to send her off at once to dance the 
 quadrille with her hasty partner. 
 
 "Pray forgive me, Jeannie," said he, when they stood 
 together — "I was so vexed." 
 
 "Yes," said Janet, meekly and decorously; but sadly 
 she went through the duty of the dance with him. 
 Dh-ectly after, her mother said it was abeady later than 
 Janet should be out of bed, and with many sweet words 
 on the success of the ball, she and her daughter left it, 
 and returned home. 
 
 The first thing Mrs. FerroU told her husband was 
 Janet's adventiu-e, and the tears she had shed over his 
 flower. He laughed at the cliildishness of the catastrophe, 
 and seemed to enjoy the discomfiture of young Bartlett. 
 The next she told him was her conversation with Lord 
 Ewyas. 
 
 "You've a mind to go to Harold's Castle," said Mr. 
 Fen'oU, thoughtfully. 
 
 "My dearest, tell me why not."
 
 r 
 
 PAUL FEEEOLL. 83 
 
 Mr. Ferroll smiled: "I told you last night my reason 
 for not going to the ball." 
 
 "You did not like it?" 
 
 "Well, my "wife, that's very true; and I Tvas so 
 miserable once, I suffered every day so much more than 
 I could bear, that now I desire only to enjoy my intense 
 felicity — my felicity which depends on only you — 
 that is my selfish joy." 
 
 "Say that again, Paul; those are words that I re- 
 member hearing for the fii'st time, and they are always 
 a renewal of the good times." 
 
 He said the same honied words in varied phrase; 
 then added, "Did not Lord Ewyas say I was selfish?" 
 
 "He said all men were selfish." 
 
 "That's true; but taking one tiling with another, do 
 not I, the selfish animal, who think of what pleases 
 myself, who contrive how to have you always at home, 
 though I go out busy with the business of the world — 
 don't I make you happy? Think what you have changed 
 for — think of those sad, sad days " 
 
 "Oh, Paul, I don't want to think of them, when I 
 thought I .should never be here — never, never could 
 be. And now, I am here " 
 
 The dialogue broke ofi", and Mrs. Ferroll ceased to 
 want to go to Harold's Castle. 
 
 Hugh Bartlett, notwithstanding the lateness of his 
 ball, was up and about time enough to be at the Tower 
 by Janet's mid-day walk. He knew that for once her 
 governess was absent; for the governess at the Hall had 
 secured the governess from the Tower, to assist in her 
 share of preparation for the ball. The governesses had 
 had their full share of dancing, and were still asleep in 
 the same bed when Hugh came away. Janet was walking
 
 84 PAUL FEEEOIL. 
 
 for exercise in the flowergarden , as she was bid to do; 
 and she had a vohime of Tasso in her hands, out of 
 which she was learning her daily task. 
 
 "How d'ye do, Janet?" 
 
 "How d'ye do, Hugh?" 
 
 "Did you like the ball; did you think it did 
 well?" 
 
 "Oh, very pretty, indeed. I'm sure it was a very 
 nice ball." 
 
 "But did you like it? I don't care who else thought 
 it nice." 
 
 "To be sure; I liked it very much." 
 
 "But reaUy did you like it?" 
 
 "Yes, really." 
 
 "And you are not angiy with me, Jeannie?" 
 
 "Oh dear no." 
 
 "I did not know it was Mr. Ferroll's flower. I 
 thought somebody else had given you one, and I could 
 not bear that." 
 
 "Why?" asked Janet. 
 
 "K you don't know, I'll tell you, my dear, dear 
 Jeannie," said Hugh. "Some people might say I was 
 too young to talk of such things, but they don't know 
 me; they don't know what I have felt. I want you to 
 be my wife, to say you will be my wife." 
 
 "Hugh, don't you remember papa said we were not 
 to talk that nonsense?" 
 
 "What, years and years ago — child as you were 
 then." 
 
 "So I am now; I am not twelve." 
 
 "But you have the sense, and the cleverness, and 
 the beauty of ghls twice your age; you know every- 
 thing."
 
 I 
 
 PAL'L FEEKOLL. 85 
 
 "I wish I did, then I should know my lesson," said 
 Janet. 
 
 "Lesson, indeed; how they make you work; no, no, 
 you shall teach me, Janet, all I don't know at present, 
 and if I know anything about the ways people go on in 
 the world, I will teach you; for I am older, and have 
 seen and felt a great deal." 
 
 "You have not left school, Hugh?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, I have; I shan't go back to old Meagrim, 
 I've made up my mind. I want nothing but to live on 
 my own estate, and do good, and have you for my 
 wife; perhaps not just yet; perhaps not for an- 
 other year and a-half ; but if you do but say it shall 
 be, Jeannie, I will be more faithful to you than 
 Jacob to Eachel, who had to wait, you know, ever so 
 long." 
 
 "Indeed, Hugh, papa will be very angry with me," 
 said Janet, looking fiightened, 
 
 "And why angr}'.^ I 'm not as clever as he, cer- 
 tainly; Lord Ewyas says few are; but I've got tilings to 
 give you which may make j^ou as happy as if I were. 
 My house, my money, my place in the world; Lord 
 
 Ewyas says with all those, and so on but all I 
 
 want is, to give everything to you, Jeannie; dear Jeannie, 
 promise to love me?" 
 
 "I hear papa, I 'm sure," cried Janet, snatching 
 away her hand. "Pray, pray don't tell him what 
 you 've been saymg." She stooped to pick up her 
 book, and repeated in the lowest voice, "Don't tell 
 him;" and Hugh was flattered, he hardly knew why, at 
 there being a secret between liim and Janet. 
 
 It was, in ti-utli, Mr. FerroU; he asked liis daughter 
 if her mother had passed that way; he was looking for
 
 86 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 her. Janet had not seen her. "Hugh," he said, "I 
 hear your ball was excellent. Go on, and prosper. 
 What it is to be growing towards a young man!" And 
 he went on to look for Mrs. FerroU, and was soon out 
 of sight. 
 
 "Your father can't forget that he knew me when I 
 was a little boy," said young Bartlett. "But he will be 
 surprised one day when I go and ask him for his leave 
 to marry you." 
 
 "No, no, pray don't say those things. You pro- 
 mised, you know, that you would not." 
 
 "Well, and I never will, till you let me, I give you 
 my sacred word of honour." 
 
 "Then I am sure I never shall, for they would only 
 scold me. And pray do let me learn my Tasso, for 
 Signora Parodi will be back before I know it, and she 
 will be very angry." 
 
 Mr. FerroU had laughed at Janet's adventure with 
 the flower he gave her, and had taken no thought 
 about interrupting her tete-a-tete with Hugh; but, at the 
 same time, he intended thoroughly that there should be 
 no future love-making between them, and was ready to 
 take advantage of any opportunities which might occur 
 to impede it. "What have you been doing at the 
 Hall, Janet?" he would say, after a visit she had paid 
 there. 
 
 "We played at post-ofiice, papa." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "We played one game of blind man's buff." 
 
 "One game, and then yoi:^ ?" 
 
 "I don't think we did anything then, except battle- 
 dore." 
 
 "Do you like all that very much?"
 
 PAVl FEKEOLL. 87 
 
 Poor Janet did like it very mucli indeed; it did her 
 good to be so meny, but she felt it not right to say so; 
 she could only look do'svii, and feel that the Hall was 
 not a place of reiined occupation. 
 
 "And did Signora Parodi make any new engagement 
 for you there:" 
 
 "She said I might ride with Anna and Jane on 
 Saturday to Troughley Common." 
 
 "Why on Satui-day?" 
 
 "Because it is a holiday, papa." 
 
 "Oh, a day of real pleasure — a do-nothing day?" 
 
 Xow it happened that Hugh was going that week 
 to Harold's Castle; for Lord Ewj'as was a good-natured 
 man, and glad to be of any use to his young kinsman; 
 and, therefore, as he was now growing up, frequently 
 invited him to his house, and made him knowTi in the 
 county. But when Hugh heard of this riding arrange- 
 ment, he resolved, far off as it was, to return home for 
 the sole purpose of joining it, though it would cost him 
 a gaUop back again to the Castle to be in time for din- 
 ner. This he made known to Janet, who said she 
 thought it was a very good plan, only would not he be 
 tired with so much riding? 
 
 "Xot I; I 'm never tired if I have got anything 
 agreeable to do." 
 
 "And I think this will be very agreeable," said 
 Janet. 
 
 "I 'm sure of it," said Sir Hugh; "so you ^\ill 
 faithfully promise to be ready at twelve o'clock on 
 Saturday?" 
 
 "Oil, 3X's; they have let me ride that day." . 
 
 It was a little event for Janet to expect, and she 
 was very anxious, but quite in secret, about the weather.
 
 88 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 There was no necessity, however, for the day was a 
 pattern spring day, sunny and mild, and full of birds, 
 and bees, and fresh vegetation. Janet was working in 
 her own garden, when her father and mother passed by. 
 They stopped to see her progress; they had come out 
 of the way on purpose. 
 
 "You never once have ridden with us, Jeannie," 
 said Mr. Ferroll. "To-day you shall come if you 
 like; but I remember you have an engagement vtdth 
 the young Bartletts; do you prefer theu- refined so- 
 ciety?" 
 
 "Oh, papa, I should like very much to ride with 
 you," said Janet, to whom it was a totally new and un- 
 hoped-for pleasure. 
 
 "Well, you may put on your riding-dress then, for 
 I have ordered our horses;" and without anymore words 
 they left her, Elinor to prepare also for riding, and 
 Mr. Perroll to write a letter. Janet, left alone, began 
 to be uneasy. True, this was far the more unexampled, 
 unhoped-for pleasure, and honour, too; but had she been 
 old enough to be quite honest with herself, she would 
 have acknowledged that she was very sorry to break 
 her engagement. In great embarrassment she put on 
 her habit, and her governess found her standing and 
 looking out of the window, with tears in her eyes, 
 which she could not conceal. "Ma, che c'e?" said 
 the Signora Parodi; and Janet, in her best Italian, re- 
 lated that she was afraid Hugh would be very angry 
 when he found she was not at home for him. 
 
 "What does it matter?" said the governess, who 
 was in great dread of being supposed to encourage the 
 intimacy of her pupil and Hugh. "Of course you prefer 
 your papa's and mamma's society?"
 
 rATJl FEEEOLL. 89 
 
 "Oh, yes, I do," said Janet. "You know how often 
 I have wished they would take me vnth them; only 
 Hugh has been so very kind, coming back all the way 
 to ride with us." 
 
 "Of course it was to ride with his sisters that he 
 came back." 
 
 "Oh, yes, of course; only they were to call for me." 
 
 "WeU, well, I'U teU them Mi\ Ferroll took you 
 out." 
 
 "Oh, thank you; will you be so kind, dearest little 
 governess? And it 's a very delicious day, do you 
 know; suppose you would be so most good as to "go to 
 the Hall?" 
 
 "Oh, no, no; I'm busy; IVe got the new music, 
 and I only came to see that you put j'our collar right; 
 but I '11 go down to the door when they come, and tell 
 them."' 
 
 "You'll be sure to see them if you will look out of 
 the window." 
 
 "There is no doubt of that; oh, I shall see or hear 
 them in some way." 
 
 "But you don't tliink you shall miss them?" 
 
 "No, no; but run quickly. I hear the horses' feet. 
 There!" 
 
 Such inroads on their good-fellowship as this were 
 not very unfrequcnt; and they contributed to make Hugh 
 feel himself of no consequence or importance in the 
 eyes of Mr. Fen-oU, and that Janet was entirely free 
 from his influence. His passion, however, continued 
 xmabated; but he felt that it must conquer great diffi- 
 culties thrown in his way if it ever succeeded; and tliat 
 it would be contrary to all 'Mv. Ferroll's intentions and 
 wishes if Janet became his wdfe.
 
 90 PAUL FEKBOH. 
 
 It was some little time after tKis, that .one fine 
 spring morning Mr. Ferroll went in searcli of his wife, 
 whom he found occupied in a flower-garden at a little 
 distance from the house. He put her arm in his, and 
 drew her away from the workmen, walking in silence 
 for a little while, and enjoying the deliciousness of the 
 weather, which shone and sounded round them. 
 
 "What's your letter, Paul?" asked Mrs. Fcrroll, at 
 last, looking at the open letter which he held in his 
 hand. 
 
 "That's what I am going to tell you," he said, 
 holding it up at the same time — "look." 
 
 "It 's from Harold's Castle," said Mrs. Ferroll. 
 
 "And, moreover, I mean to go there." 
 
 "You do?" 
 
 "Yes, and leave you at home." 
 
 "With all my heart." 
 
 "False, faithless woman; naughty, cruel Elinor; Tvitli 
 all your heart indeed!" 
 
 "Excellent!" she said, laugliing, "when it was yoic 
 who proposed to leave me." 
 
 "Oh, hut I only think of myself; you must think 
 of only me. I know you are very sorry that I am 
 going away." 
 
 "I know I am." 
 
 "This is why I am going, dearest. You know there 
 are the assizes going on at Eewdy." 
 
 "No, indeed, I don't." 
 
 "Oh, then, I forgot to tell you, because I did not 
 mean to go; I'm so busy with tliis pamphlet for April; 
 but it seems Lord Ewyas has heard there are to be 
 disturbances about the prisoners who burned his works 
 at Oak Park. And he has taken fright in a digni-
 
 I 
 
 PAUL FEBKOH. 91 
 
 fied sort of a way and wants to muster the forces of 
 his own party to go with the sheriff and meet the 
 judges." 
 
 "He thinks there is danger," said Elinor, "and there- 
 fore takes care of himself at your expense." 
 
 " Those are not the words he uses , I assure 
 you," said Mi". FeiToU, holding out the letter and 
 smiling. 
 
 "Xo, no; but it's the ti'uth — there's danger, cer- 
 tainly, if you are wanted." 
 
 "How do I make it dangerous?" said ITr. FerroU. 
 
 "They want you because there's danger there, and 
 if you if you " 
 
 "If I get knocked on the head — yes?" 
 
 "Oh, no, no, no." 
 
 "Then I should die before you — die in pros- 
 perity. But what horrid nonsense to talk of dying; 
 what are you seducing me to do? I am going to ride 
 into Bewdy with half a dozen other men, and ride out 
 again when the business is over. Nothing more heroic, 
 darling; but I may be kept over to-day because there 
 will be such a dogged downfal of talk; so I came to 
 tell you just how matters stand." 
 
 "Well, I'll come to the house with you and see 
 you off; I thought you were to have ridden with me to- 
 day." 
 
 Mr. Ferroll trotted away to Harold's Castle; it had 
 once stood alone in its forests, with the small village of 
 Y — sheltering 'at its feet, and in that state the an- 
 cestors of Lord Ewyas had inhabited it, poor and war- 
 like proprietors wlio had taken great pleasure in appi'o- 
 priating the loose property of their neighboiu's. But 
 miucrala of enormous \aluc had been found in later
 
 92 PAUL FEEROLI. 
 
 times beneath the soil of their acres; Y — had become 
 an overgrown manufacturing town, and the possessors of 
 Harold's Castle great iron masters, whose descendants 
 had stepped upon their wealth into the peerage. They 
 were become agaia, therefore, a separate race from 
 y — , with their own privileges to guard and be envied. 
 At tliis moment there was great excitement among the 
 working orders of the town in consequence of the dis- 
 tress of trade. 
 
 It was the rather antiquated custom of the capital 
 town of tliis county to hold what is called the sheriff's 
 breakfast, before setting out to escort the judge into the 
 town. According to the standing of the sheriff in the 
 county was generally the attendance of gentlemen upon 
 this occasion; they flocked together by scores to pay 
 their mark of respect to one of their established aristo- 
 cracy; but at the shrievalty of a new man there 
 generally appeared only the city member, garnished 
 with two or three dawning fortunes. The sheriff on 
 the present occasion was one of the newly rich, whom 
 the iron of the soil had created; he had anxiously 
 sought the post of sheriff, which men, whose gold burned 
 and abounded less ui their purses as anxiously avoid; 
 but he knew that the sheriff is, for the time being, the 
 first commoner in his county, and walked to dinner be- 
 fore Mr. Shirley and Mr. Beaumont. Nevertheless, he 
 had sad misgivings about the success of his breakfast, 
 feeling though not confessing to himself that there is 
 sheiiff and sheriff, and that his would be an empty 
 show compared to Sir Amyas Eutford's last year. But 
 the circumstance under which the present breakfast was 
 held, collected an abundant company; and the delighted 
 sheriff stood at the top of the great room at the Harold's
 
 PAtTL FEBEOLl. 93 
 
 Spear, and saw, one after another, all the dignities of 
 the county come to eat his cold heef, and swell the 
 train about to follow liim. 
 
 ''There's more," cried he, every minute, losing his 
 self-command in his ti-ansport; "another — two more — 
 more chairs coming in. Shall you have breakfast enough, 
 waiter, for all my friends?" 
 
 "Xever fear, sir — never fear," said the waiter. 
 
 "I hear Judge — expressed some alarm, Mr. Sheriff, 
 at having to enter this disturbed town," said Lord Ewyas, 
 "but with the escort you have provided for him I can't 
 imagine he has much to fear." 
 
 "Thanks to your lordship, and all my friends," said 
 Mr. Smith. 
 
 "A very full breakfast, indeed," said Lord Ewyas. 
 
 "And more coming in," said the sheriff. 
 
 "But I hear the crowd near the gaol is tremendous," 
 said Lord Ewyas. "Is the police prepared to keep them 
 in order?" 
 
 "Oh, I understood so," said Mr. Smith; "a hundred 
 special constables (look at that fresh bench) sworn in to 
 keep the peace." 
 
 "And should there be anytliing serious," said Lord 
 Ewyas, "the troop from Stillvale would be here in half 
 an hour." 
 
 "Or less, my lord," said Mr. Smith. 
 
 "And if that force is lightly used," continued 
 Lord Ewj'as, "it is enough, small as it is, to keep all 
 right." 
 
 "If?" asked Mr. Ferroll. 
 
 "Why, yes, there is an if," said Lord Ewyas, in a 
 low voice, "for tlie major is an obstmate man with an 
 idea in his head, and that is that the people must
 
 94 PAUL FEKKOLL. 
 
 be reasoned with. If, with his small force, he under- 
 takes to teach reason, he will he apt to get a lesson in 
 brute force." 
 
 "However, we have all wit enough to play at that 
 game," said Mr. FerroU. 
 
 "Yes, I have had proof that it is well to be near 
 you when either the wit or the arm is to be used," said 
 Lord Ewyas. "Did you ever hear what became of that 
 unfortunate fellow of my cousin Bartlett'sr" 
 
 "We sent him to the lunatic asylum," said Mr. Fer- 
 roU. "I saw him there last time I visited it; he looked 
 at me till he remembered my face, and then he shrank 
 together like a tiger before Yan Amburgh." 
 
 Desultory discourse followed, and amid the clang of 
 voices, the public breakfast came to an end, and car- 
 riages and horses began to be called for to compose the 
 procession which it was now time should go forward and 
 meet the judge. The sheriff had his javelin men in 
 very smart clothes, and a single trumpet blown with 
 more good will than science was sounding, to call the 
 javelins together. And though they prevented the ne- 
 cessity of its science by congregating so closely upon it 
 that the tinimpeter was hustled by them at every step, 
 yet he still marched desperately forward summoning the 
 men who already were an impediment in his way; and 
 indeed he seemed to think ti'umpeting was the great ob- 
 ject for which all this crowd was got together. 
 
 "Stop trumpet — stop trampet," cried a dozen 
 voices; "the sheriff is in; you will be left beliind," and 
 this adjuration had a pacifying effect, for the trumpet 
 stopped and stared about him, and seeing his troop 
 abeady beyond him, shook a little rivulet out of his
 
 PAUL F£EEOXL. 95 
 
 weapon, and ran to get the place that belongs to those 
 who blow upon wind instraments. 
 
 The sheriff was followed by his chaplain in full 
 dress into his carriage, and his four new horses and two 
 new postilions drove off. Lord Ewyas, Sir Amyas, Mr. 
 Dixon, had carriages also; numbers followed on horse- 
 back, of which Mr. Ferroll was one. The crowd was 
 great, but in this part friendly. As he got on horseback, 
 a man from the crowd came up to him, and placing 
 himself in his way said, "Mr. Ferroll, sir, I want to 
 speak to you. I am James Skenfrith." 
 
 "You had the cholera at the cottage on Oily Com- 
 mon," said Mr. Ferroll, who seldom forgot any one. "I 
 Icnow your name but not your face, it's altered since 
 those days." 
 
 "It was you, sir, helped the little one to the po- 
 tatoe." 
 
 "I remember it," said Mr. Ferroll, smiling; "and 
 what became of the little one?" 
 
 "He did not die, sir, nor I; but the property is 
 entirely gone. I should have done very well only the 
 mortgagee came in and seized everything." 
 
 "But I suppose you owed him everything," said Mr. 
 Ferroll. 
 
 "It is a shame to turn a man out of his own; and 
 I paid for all the wi-itings for that there place," said 
 James. 
 
 "I see nothing to be do»e except to give you half- 
 a-crown," said Mr. Fen'oll, taking one from liis waistcoat 
 pocket. 
 
 James accepted it with applause, "But that's not 
 what I came to say, ifr. Ferroll; you've been a good 
 friend to me, and I advise you by way of a returning
 
 9G PAUL TEEKOLL. 
 
 of good, not to go along with those lords and their 
 grooms." 
 
 "And why not?" 
 
 "We don't mean to let those men that you know of, 
 be touched by those other men that you know of in their 
 black robes and black caps." 
 
 "You haye come to that resolution I suppose since 
 the loss of yoiu' propertj'." 
 
 "It is enough to aggravate a man," said James. 
 
 "Well, and Lord Ewyas is aggravated at the destruc- 
 tion of his mills; and so am I, and so are we all." 
 
 "The men wanted bread, and blood shall be shed 
 before they are touched; but not yours, if you please^ 
 Mr. FeiTolL" 
 
 "Thank you, James; but I won't promise as much 
 about yours, for if any of you arc simple enough to tiy 
 violence , I 'U be one of the first to do the very same by 
 you — so farewell. How is your prudent wife — and 
 how is the groom of the chambers I gave you — how's 
 Lancelot Gobbo; what do you call him — Caleb Bal- 
 derstone?" 
 
 James looked up doubtful and scowling, "Do you 
 mean Thomas Jackson, the boy?" 
 
 "That's he, Thomas Jackson, the boy — I hope 
 he's well." 
 
 "May be," said James, rather grumpil}-, and Mr. 
 Ferroll rode on. 
 
 The procession had to go about two miles out of the 
 town, and at that place the sheriff received the judges 
 into his carriage, and turning about, his tail wheeled 
 with him, and he set off like a comet behind, and a 
 soda water bottle fresh opened before, to return into 
 Bewdy. The conversation iaside the carriage was of the
 
 PAUL FEREOLL. 97 
 
 most sober dcscriptiou — the judges very anxiously 
 asked about the disposition of the crowd, and with less 
 sincerity inquu-ed into the health of Mrs. Smith, and 
 the numbers of the young Smiths. The sheriff exultingly 
 pointed out the dignity of liis attendants;' with great 
 regret reported lErs. Smith an iu valid, and confessed 
 ^vith a blush that there were no Kttle Smiths. The 
 chaplain gave an account of the fiercelooking crowds 
 which he had traversed to get to the inn, and the 
 judge's attention seemed to wander from Mrs. Smith's 
 lamented indisposition, and to fix itself upon the numbers 
 of constables, and the question of their efficiency. But 
 outside there were many gambols played by injudicious 
 horses, obeying their riders' incitements to show their 
 spirit, whicli ended by lapng theii' riders low in the 
 ditches. . Little boys triumphed at the spectacle, and 
 there was much laughter, shouting, and confusion of 
 tongues. 
 
 As they approached the town, however, these sounds 
 were mingled with occasional gi'oans, and tones of disap- 
 probation, and the progress of the procession became 
 impeded by the crowds wliich gathered on its passage. 
 It wa.s with difficulty that the police kept a way clear 
 for the carriages to pass along, and when they got into 
 the town, tlic difficulties increased at every street. Tlie 
 judges' lodgings were on one side of an irregular space, 
 which was occupied on the other sides by shops and 
 dwellings, and into which several wide Streets opened. 
 The square was full of the mob, and as tlie sheriff's 
 carriage and that of Lord Ewyas entered the square, a 
 sudden and evidently cuneorted rusli was made down the 
 street, the entrance of wliich these carriages had just 
 passed to get into the square, and they were effectually 
 
 Paul Fvrroll. 7
 
 98 PAUL FEEKOLL. 
 
 cut oflf from, the train following them. Neither could 
 they advance, for the crowd before barred their further 
 progress, and there they were shut up in the mob. In 
 less than half a minute, all the horses of these carnages 
 were detached from them, and led without injury out 
 of the place, the postilions following aghast, and in- 
 stinctively conscious that their business was to go where 
 their horses went. "Let us charge them," said Mr. 
 Ferroll, after he and the rest had looked on for a minute 
 at the vain efforts of the police to restore a passage; "let 
 us get up to the carriages. I don't know what those 
 unwashed are intending to do." 
 
 A dozen gentlemen agreed to his proposal — and 
 putting their horses on their mettle, rushed against the 
 crowd. But the charge of cavahy against infantry so 
 serried and determined, could produce but little effect; 
 the horsemen had nothing but their riding whips to 
 strike with, and the strong men planting their feet 
 firmly, seized the horses' bridles, and bore them back, 
 and made them rear in the air. The gentleman who 
 rode next to Mr. Fen'oll was mounted on a pretty showy 
 Arab, not much more than a pony, had it not been for 
 its exact and fine proportions — a brawny fellow seized 
 on its bit with both hands, and the horse, through pain 
 and fear, darted upright on its hind legs, and losing its 
 balance, fell over, its rider scarce slipping on one side 
 as it came down to the ground, and falling himself, 
 under the feet of men and horses. Mr. FeiToll sprang 
 from his own horse, and by main force dragged his com- 
 panion to his legs, and set him again in fighting order. 
 "We'll get through yet," said he; and most of those 
 who had been attempting a passage, abandoning their 
 horses to any groom who might yet be behind, formed a
 
 PATTL FEEEOLL. 99 
 
 mass, together -witli Mr. Ferroll and his companions, and 
 •wedging themselves into the mob, rushed through tliem, 
 without offering any other violence, and forced their 
 way up to the two carriages which were held in im- 
 potence among the crowd. 
 
 Lord Ewyas, and the friend who was in the carriage 
 with him, jumped out and joined them. The appearance 
 of the former were greeted with a loud yell from the 
 populace, who pressed more and more upon the party of 
 gentlemen. "I don't know what they would be at," 
 said Lord Ewyas. "What are they waiting for?" 
 
 "Any impulse, I thinlc," said Mr. FeiToll. "But the 
 police are making what play they can outside the circle, 
 and trying to force us a passage." 
 
 "And can't we get through?" 
 
 "Most of us could, but not old Delabre, scarcely 
 Smith, I think," said Mr. Ferroll, pointing to the 
 sheriffs carriage. 
 
 "My lord," said old Delabre, putting his head out, 
 "what is the matter?" 
 
 A stone, a very smaU. one, a mere fragment, was 
 dexterously aimed at his head, from some little distance, 
 and hit him sharply on the wig. Wig and head hastily 
 retreated, and a great laugh ensued from the populace. 
 
 "It's rather a savage laugh, tliough," said Sir Amyas. 
 "What is to be done?" 
 
 "I see nothing for it, except to stand by them till 
 help comes. Outside there they arc sure to have sent 
 for help," said Mr. Ferroll. Saying this he got on the 
 wheel of the caniage, and looked riglit and left down 
 each street, to see Avhat was doing. "FcitoU for ever!" 
 said a voice in tlie crowd; and he saw liis friend James 
 
 7*
 
 100 VAML FEEEOIL, 
 
 with a red ribbon in his hat, waving his hand towards 
 liim. "Don't touch FcrroU, boys.'' 
 
 "If you touch one, you touch all," said Mr. Ferroll, 
 "What is it you want?" 
 
 "There are men in those four walls that shall go 
 free," said the spokesman. 
 
 "What do Englishmen want from Englishmen but a 
 fair trial — trial by jury," said Mr. Eerrol. 
 
 "Fair trial were promised to the men at X — , yet 
 they wore hanged." 
 
 "The men at — were acquitted." 
 
 "We are not going to trust to that." 
 
 "You must. You can't force the law to do one 
 tiling or another. The law is not here — only the 
 lawyers. The law is in London, in the North, in the 
 South, everywhere. Though you should get rid of a 
 lawyer, the law will do just as it would have done be- 
 fore, and take account for him into the bargain." 
 
 "We don't want to hurt them, if they will promise 
 a few things. Lord Ewyas is to give] up prosecuting 
 those men in those four walls, and the judge is not to 
 condemn them." 
 
 "Nonsense," cried Mr. EerroU. "What business 
 have you to talk for all these Englishmen, who know 
 better than you what is good for the county? What arc 
 you come here for, gentlemen, I ask you all? for the 
 purposes of justice; for the sake " 
 
 What influence his words must have had on the 
 crowd can never be laiown, for at that moment the 
 sound of broken glass was heard from one side of the 
 square, followed by a hurra from the spot where the 
 sound came. IMr. EeiToll from his height had seen that 
 one of the shopkeepers had been tiyiug to steal up liis
 
 PAUL FEKKOLL. 101 
 
 shutters in presence of the mob; and in sudden anger at 
 his precaution, those near him had in a moment smashed 
 iu his windows. The sound acted like contagion on the 
 multitude; it was like the rush of galloi)ing heard by a 
 horse; all that were near houses seemed by the clatter 
 that ensued to do as the first breaker had done. Shouts 
 and liuzzas followed, and all the multitude swayed to 
 and fro with the impidse which ran through it. 
 
 "They'll murder us before they knoAV what they're 
 about," said Judge Delabre, again putting out his head. 
 The old joke was repeated, but this time the stones 
 were more and larger, and there was no laughing. 
 
 "You must get out of the carnage, my lord," said 
 Mr. FerroU, "and you, too, Mr. Sheriff; and we'll all 
 foim round you and Lord Ewyas, who are their objects, 
 and rush for the judges' lodgings; the servants are there, 
 they will open for us if we can get near." 
 
 The gentlemen consulted a few moments, then did 
 as he advised; their movement was saluted with cries 
 and groans; and as the first ranks of the body of gentle- 
 men pushed a little fonvard, great efforts were made to 
 separate them from each other, and to press upon and 
 overwhelm them from behind. At this conjuncture, some 
 shrill women's voices were heard crying out, "Soldiers! 
 they're come — the soldiers!" And outside the mob, 
 there was heard the ti-ampling of horses' feet; and there 
 was an increase of the noise of human voices, and of a 
 human croM'd. But it was for some time in vain that 
 the struggling party looked for the relief they expected 
 from this reinforcement; for some time no help ap- 
 peared; but at the end of perhaps ten painful minutes, 
 u shout and a cry were heard from the mob between 
 tlierc and the Town-hall; and on the steps of that
 
 102 PAUL FEEEOIL. 
 
 building, apparently having entered it from behiad, the 
 soldiers appeared, few in number, but powerful by their 
 weapons, and the fact of acting as one body. 
 
 "We are saved!" cried Judge Delabre, wiping liis 
 brows, which streamed with heat. 
 
 "Yes; now let him but shoot the leader dead," said 
 Mr. FerroU, "and all's right." 
 
 "If he attempt his fool's reasoning with them," cried 
 Lord Ewyas, "we're lost. What's he doing? Ass! 
 Quitting his men, walking down the steps?" 
 
 "Aye, aye, indeed; voies de douceur," said Mr. 
 Terroll. 
 
 And so it seemed; the major came down among the 
 people, calling them my good fellows, offering them his 
 snuff-box, saying he was sure they wished for nothing 
 but justice. The party of gentlemen could not hear 
 what he said, but saw his acts; and though they had 
 pressed a little forward when the people were first occu- 
 pied by the arrival of the soldiers, and were so much 
 nearer their bourne, yet they felt the multitude bearing 
 harder and harder upon them, and violent language 
 began to be used as the mob saw the prospect of their 
 prey escaping them. 
 
 "When we are all murdered, he'll fixe at them," 
 said one of the gentlemen. 
 
 "Push on, lads," cried James, who was leading on 
 the mob close about the party. "The soldiers is come 
 to prevent justice. Time's grown short, and we must 
 make the most of it." 
 
 "Keep back!" said Mr. Ferroll, "you'd best," firmly 
 planting liimself against the burly antagonist, and again 
 there were a few feet gained in advance.
 
 PATH FEEEOIX. 103 
 
 "They must not go to do mischief," said James to 
 his followers; "we're let 'em get too far already." 
 
 At this moment, the merciful major, finding his con- 
 cihation neglected, and himself in a precarious position, 
 gave an order. There rattled a sharp volley over the 
 Market-place of Bewdy, but it Tvent high above the 
 heads of the mob, and after an instant's stare, they felt 
 themselves safe, and safer than ever. "That's un- 
 merciful mercy," cried Mr. FcrroU. "Mistaken mercy — 
 press forward, my lord, they're maddened!" He put 
 his hand into the bosom of his coat as he spoke. 
 The mob yelled; James Skenfrith, with imprecations, 
 waved his hand, clenching a bludgeon, and pressing 
 with all his might to get before Mr. rerroll; that 
 was his last effort. Mr. Ferroll drew a pistol from 
 his breast, cocked it, and shot him dead. One man 
 dead, and one man with fire-arms, staggered all that 
 were near; another pistol was ready — they saw it; 
 there were some seconds of wavering, and availing them- 
 selves of the occasion, the party of gentlemen, carrying 
 and dragging the less active old man whom they had to 
 protect, rushed to the house they were making for, and 
 the door instantly admitting them, they were safe. 
 
 "They were tenibly ill-advised," said Mr. Ferroll, as 
 soon as they got in. "K they meant to kill you, why 
 did they not do it at once? that game was in their own 
 hands before we broke through." 
 
 "Oh, God! at what a price you have saved us!" said 
 Lord Ewj'as; "how he groaned!" 
 
 "So he did," said Mr. Ecn-olL "The fact is, I sup- 
 pose that they meant in the first place merely to extort 
 a promise of favour for tlic prisoners from you and the 
 judges, which they fancied would be binding, and by
 
 104 TAri, FEEEOLL. 
 
 degrees ihej got warmed to a thirst for your blood. Did 
 you hear how the fellow cursed?" 
 
 "FeiToU, I don't think I could have done it," said 
 Mr. "VVyars, "those words being warm in his mouth." 
 
 "It's lucky for you I could then." 
 
 "Is'othing's truer than that," said Judge Delabre. "I 
 don't believe the lives of some of us were worth two 
 minutes' purchase. I, for my own part, acknowledge my 
 deep obKgation, ilr. FeiToU." 
 
 "I for another," said Lord Ewyas, shaking hands 
 heartily with him. 
 
 " I am glad it 's aU right," said Mr. Ferroll, approach- 
 ing the windows. "I su2:)pose it is all right, but they 
 seem in a devil of a fuss still. The best thing to do, 
 will be to get out of the house the back way, and take 
 these gentlemen to Harold's Castle — don't you tliink so, 
 my lord — till the town's safe?" 
 
 Everybody agreed to this plan, the active officious 
 servants ran off to get conveyances, and to find con- 
 stables to make a guard. Things were quickly in train, 
 and the gentlemen leaving the house quietly, soon found 
 themselves in the carriage of Lord Ewyas, and ready to 
 go off at best pace. "And you, too, Mr. FerroU," said 
 Lord Ewyas, stopping before he followed his guests 
 into the carriage; "you are coming with us to-day, I'm 
 sure?" 
 
 "No, indeed; I'm going home as soon as I find my 
 horse ; and I think I saw a groom of yours with him just 
 now." 
 
 "Dine with us, at least? it's all on your road." 
 
 "Oh, thank you; I'd come for society if I came for 
 anything. Dining is but the company of a knife and 
 fork, yet it docs come into our head whenever our
 
 PArL FEEEOn. 105 
 
 friends are tliere. Many thanks, but I really must go 
 home. Mrs. FeiToll don't expect me, and she will be 
 glad; besides, a ride after all that heat -will be so plea- 
 sant." 
 
 "In short, you ■u'on't come; well, then, I thank you 
 again, and good bye." 
 
 "Good bye, you 're most uncommonly welcome. 
 There'll be a coroner's inquest, of coui'se; and I shall 
 be ready to answer for what I've done whenever they 
 summon me." 
 
 "Is not it extraordinary the determination he has 
 not to go into society?" said Lord E^vyas, as the carriage 
 drove on. 
 
 "Perfectly extraordinary," answered Mr. Smith. 
 "He'll go nowhere, though I and all the gentlemen have 
 asked him over and over again. Yet I don't think he 's 
 shy." 
 
 "Why, no; that does not appear to be his misfor- 
 tune," said Lord Ewyas. 
 
 IMr. Fen-oll meantime, hai:>py in the past excitement, 
 happy in the present exercise, pleased to get home, en- 
 joyed the ride amazingly. He soon left behind him the 
 smoky town, and the mean suburbs; he crossed at a good 
 pace a wide turfy common, threaded some well-known 
 by lanes, and at last from an open hill looked doA\Ti on 
 the scattered \illage of Churchargent, and at a quarter 
 of a mile from the village on his own Tower. The gray 
 building looked out all calmly on the twilight; the 
 church stood not far off, shaped in the form of a cross, 
 each limb equal, and the spire rising from the centre. 
 The churchyard sloped a little on three sides of it, a 
 brook ran in the A-alley, and its murmur Avas heard on 
 the hill. Mr. reiToll stopped liis horse, and contemi)lated
 
 106 ritn, FEREOii,. 
 
 all this innocent and happy-looking scene for some mi- 
 nutes. If he had been in the habit of talking over his 
 secrets to liimself, it is probable he might have said 
 sometliing very much to the purpose of this story. How- 
 ever, he was not; so what he thought remains unre- 
 vealed; what he did say, casts no light on the past or 
 the future. A word or two he murmured, but they were 
 merely the fragments or rough material of his thoughts. 
 "An island of the blest," he said softly; "if there be a 
 
 place of long repose, I 'm sure So very, very still." 
 
 But this was all, and at long intervals; and when he 
 had gazed his fill, he loosened again his rein, and quit- 
 ting the hill, it was but a short time before he had left 
 his horse in the stable-yard, and was at the door of liis 
 own drawing-room. Elinor had heard horses' feet, and 
 alive to all sounds from without when her husband was 
 absent, stood expecting a message or a note from him, in 
 the attitude in which she had sprung up from her chair, 
 when her ear first ascertained the approaching step. 
 "You, Paul, you yourself!" she exclaimed, darting for- 
 ward, and into his arms. 
 
 "Yes, indeed it's I myself, and I've got a great deal 
 to tell you. Elinor, you remember James Skenfrith." 
 
 "I remember your Journal about him." 
 
 "I 've killed him." 
 
 "Oh, husband! poor husband!" 
 
 "I have not thought of it yet in that light. Poor 
 husband, indeed! all my pity has been for James." 
 
 "But such a horrible misfortune!" 
 
 "No, darling. It was on purpose; he had every in- 
 tention, I believe, of committing violence, and I was first 
 with him. Sit down — here, here — I'll tell jon." He 
 detailed the circumstances, and then feeling in his pocket,
 
 PAUL TEKEOLL. 107 
 
 produced the pistol -which had been the instrument of 
 the deed. "I'm so glad I took it with me," he said, 
 fixing his eyes on her, as he brought it out. She clung 
 to his arm, shrinking back a little, and the colour mount- 
 ing into her face. 
 
 "The very pistol," said he; "the very hand, more- 
 over," laying his upon her's. She instantly clasped it in 
 both her own, hiding her head upon it, and her tears 
 burst out. "Suppose they were to make it out that I 
 had committed a murder; suppose I were called a mur- 
 derer — was a murderer, could you be faithful still, loye 
 me, no matter what I was; never change?" 
 
 "What do you mean, Paul? who are you talking 
 of — murder?" 
 
 "Xay, it 's really very lilccly the coroner's inquest 
 may give this affair that name; but whether they do or 
 not, would you stand that utmost test, my wife?" 
 
 "Why will you think of a thing like that, when 
 what you have done has been in defence of others, no 
 A\T.lling violence against a man?" 
 
 "Yes, it ivas -svilling violence. I could do it; I am 
 not the best of men, as they say in epitaphs. I did do 
 it, I tell you, Elinor; and suppose such a thing, only 
 just to please me, suppose they were to hang me, could 
 you love me if the law hanged me?" 
 
 "Oh, heavens! what are you talldng of?" she 
 cried, thoroughly frightened. "What has happened? have 
 you got something 1 don't know to tell me?" and she 
 looked out, half expecting to see her husband seized by 
 impatient officers of justice. 
 
 He said notliing for a few seconds, only looked her 
 steadily in the face. Her fears took form from his 
 silence.
 
 108 PArL FEEEOLl. 
 
 "Fly, fly!" slic cried. "Come " 
 
 "Come, aye, come," he answered, drawing her down 
 again beside him. 
 
 "Then you'd have gone with me if there had been 
 any necessity? but, indeed, I don't know of any such 
 thing. I have no doubt, with regard to this James, that 
 they will put me on my tiial; but I was only going on 
 from one supposition to another, for the sake of loiowing 
 what you thought." 
 
 Elinor heaved a deep sigh, like one relieved from 
 utmost pain, but still agitated and nervous. 
 
 "Alas, don't try that experiment again," she said. 
 "The matter is bad enough itself." And so she thought 
 next morning, when a warrant aiTived to arrest her hus- 
 band upon the charge of the murder of James. 
 
 The coroner's inquest had sate, the jury was com- 
 posed of townsmen, highly incensed at the death of their 
 patriot, and had found a verdict of wilful murder against 
 Paul Ferroll, and the coroner had accordingly issued a 
 warrant for liis apprehension. 
 
 "I told you so," said Mr. Ferroll to his wife, smiling 
 as he showed her the warrant; but it would not do to 
 ask for smiles from her. Frightened, dismayed, she was 
 pale as death; and Janet, too, overpowered with fear, 
 crept, or rather noiselessly flew into the room, and tears 
 streamhag from her eyes, caught hold of her mother's 
 arm, and stood gazing on her father. Mr. Ferroll laughed. 
 "It wants very little to make the scene heroic," he said. 
 "The newspapers will get up a paragraph, I should 
 think — 'There stood the wretched man stained with 
 the blood of a fellow-creature '" 
 
 "Oh, my dear, dear Paul," cried Ehnor, hiding her 
 eyes, and burying her face on his shoulder, "why will
 
 PAUL FEEKOLL. 109 
 
 you use such horrible words; they are too dreadful to be 
 jested with." 
 
 "Can't you bear them said of me, Elinor?" asked her 
 husband. 
 
 "Xobody can say them, so why ask?" 
 
 "!N"ay, but they will; you must expect whatever " 
 
 "Oh, I shan't mind, I shan't hear what the mere 
 mob says; nobody else can use those horrid words." 
 
 "One docs not know that," said 3Ir. FeiToll. "Good 
 bye, dearest, you shall hear all about it as soon as 
 possible; here's a kiss for you, too, my httle Janet. 
 Look, Janet, that carriage at the door, that ychicle ready 
 to tear the unhappy man from Ids home, that convey- 
 ance to the drear walls of a prison. After all, Jeannie, 
 
 it is it is a, ily — au revoir, Jeannie. Farewell 
 
 dearest, prettiest Elinor." 
 
 Mr. FerroU got into the carnage, and as soon as he 
 was with sti'angers, resumed the cold manner and in- 
 tUfferent gravity which best suited him and them; but 
 when the wheels grated loudly over new-laid stones, or 
 over the paved way of a street, he munnured to himself 
 the exultitig notes of the last scene in an opera, or 
 quoted lines out of the death of the Commander from 
 Don Juan: — 
 
 " Here we are , 
 
 And there we go: — but ivlicre? live bits of lead, 
 
 Or tlirce, or two, or one send very far I 
 
 And is tliis blood, then, forni'd but to be shed? 
 
 Can every element our elements mar? 
 
 And air — eartli — water — liie live — and we dead? 
 
 We, whose minds comprehend all things! " 
 
 Ilis companions tlid not hear him; Avhen it Avas 
 pos.siblc tliey sliould, bo broke off sliort in the midst of
 
 110 ■ PAUL PEEEOLL. 
 
 liis excitement. Near Bewdy, the carriage was stopped 
 for a luiaute by a servant on horseback, with a letter 
 for Mr. FerroU from Lord Ewyas. 
 
 "Deae Peeeoll. — I hope to be at Mr. — 's nearly 
 as soon as you; but the scene of yesterday has been too 
 much for me, though you, I dare say, would scarcely re- 
 member it to-day, if it were not for this vindictive in- 
 quest. Make use of me, I beseech you. They will bail 
 you of course, and remember I am the first to offer my- 
 self as your security. 
 
 "Yours gratefully, 
 
 "EWTAS." 
 
 Further on Sir Amyas Rufford put his head into the 
 window, vehemently shaking hands with Mr. Ferroll. 
 "There are a dozen fellows waiting for you," he said, 
 "to show their proper feeling about you; but I thought 
 I'd ride forward and meet you, and be the first to say, 
 I'll be bail, or anything. Recollect I'm the first." 
 
 "Thank you, thank you; Lord Ewyas has just sent 
 me the same offer. It would not have occurred to me 
 to ask it, if you had not made it." 
 
 As Sir Amyas had said, a considerable knot of gen- 
 tlemen were ready to receive Mr. Ferroll at the door of 
 the magistrate. They were all eager to offer their ser- 
 vices, and to support him by their presence — the 
 feeling among them was as strong in his favour, as that 
 of the towns-people against him. The magistrate was a 
 citizen, and not inclined to look leniently on the act 
 which savoured of arbitrary power, and of a separate 
 class; but all he had to do was to take the brief exami- 
 nation which was necessary to show that Mr. Ferroll had
 
 PAUL FEEROLL. Ill 
 
 fired the shot -^hich killed the man, and that he had 
 not done it in actual self-defence. 
 
 There could scpcely be any hesitation upon these 
 points, and it was not without looks of silent com- 
 placency at the progress of the investigation, that the 
 magistrate continued to extract from unwilling witnesses 
 such testimony as tended thi'oughout to a committal. 
 He coidd even afford to deal rather hardly by the wit- 
 nesses on the opposite side, and to exhibit a show of 
 impartiality by the severity with which he examined 
 the evidence of the mob party. 
 
 "These things being so," said the magistrate, taking 
 off and wiping his spectacles, "it is clearly my duty, 
 sir, to commit you upon the charge of the murder of 
 tliis man. My lord seems angiy, which I 'm sony for, 
 but that don't make the smallest diiference." 
 
 "Xo, no; certainly," said Mr. Ferroll. 
 
 "But you bail Mr. Ferroll of course," said Lord 
 Ewyas. 
 
 "Is any one wilHng to bail?" asked the magistrate. 
 "The offence is one of so serious a natiu'c, that any 
 question of bail becomes equally so." 
 
 "Yes I," "and I," "and I," answered a chorus of 
 voices. 
 
 "Your rich friends are numerous, sir," said the 
 magistrate; "but tlie bail for the death of even a poor 
 man is not a tiiile to be undertaken by anybody. 
 I can't let the security be less than yourself in £ 5,000, 
 and two gentlemen in £ 2,500 each." 
 
 Many pressed forward, but gave way to Lord Ewyas 
 and Sir Amyas, the most considerable men there, who 
 were prompt at once to make their zeal and fricndsliip 
 known. But when the matter had been brought to tliis
 
 112 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 poiiit, and tlie attention of all the room was upon the 
 offer, j\[r. FeiToll said (and his clear, peculiar voice 
 caught universal attention), "I am greatly obliged to you 
 for these proofs of j^our approbation of what I have 
 done, and your willingness to support me; but my obli- 
 gation I think had best end here. As the assizes arc 
 going on, my. affair can be discussed within the course 
 of to-morrow or next day; and really the inconvenience 
 of the gaol for that time is not of a degree worth 
 shimning — at least I will not shun it; so I thank you, 
 gentlemen, and decline your offer." 
 
 They remonstrated in vain; they pressed on him 
 their services; but he was fixed in avoiding them; 
 whether he gave them offence or not seemed indifferent 
 to him, and he was more like a man in the position of 
 hearing and refusing petitions, than of one upon whom 
 in a situation of difficulty friends were accumulating 
 offers and help. The commitment was therefore made 
 out, and Mr. FerroU being delivered to the care of the 
 constables, was conveyed in the same carriage which had 
 brought him to Bewdy, to the county gaol. Thither a 
 number of his friends attended him, and at the door, as 
 he got out of the carriage, pressed upon him once more 
 to shake hands, to renew their offers, to wish him well, 
 to prophesy a speedy acquittal from all but the credit of 
 the action. The mob who had gathered round were 
 thrown into the background by the crowd of well- 
 wishing gentlemen; their expressions of hatred were lost 
 in the sounds of good will, then- demonstrations quite 
 stopped by the nearer expressions of friendship from his 
 own class — the doors unclosed for him in a species of 
 triumph, and at the top of the steps he turned, took off 
 his hat, in one last acknowledgment of their kindness;
 
 PAITL FEREOll. 313 
 
 then entered the prison out of the crowd, and the door 
 closed between him and a host of friends. 
 
 The court and its heavy buildings looked gloomier 
 by contrast vriih. the scene without — the barred win- 
 dows, the massive doors, the complete solitude of the 
 space, struck the imagination by the contrast. Constraint 
 is always humiliating; and FeiToU's spirit chafed against 
 the forms of receiving him as a in'isoner, though the 
 governor of the gaol used his utmost courtesy in going 
 through them. — "You know best, sir," he said; "but 
 I can't myself conceive why you prefeixed not accepting 
 bail." 
 
 "It was not for want of offers of it," said Mr, 
 Fen'oll. 
 
 "Oh, sir, I'm quite aware of that; every gentleman 
 in the county would liavc had a pleasure in fumishing 
 it. I am aware of the pressing offers made you." 
 
 "You see I would have nothing to do «-ith tliom," 
 said Ferroll. "Some men, you know, will not be obliged; 
 but pray go through your foims; I have inspected tliis 
 place too often not to be aware of them all." 
 
 The Governor complied; his prisoner's name and the 
 charge against liim were entered in the book of crimes 
 and their perpetrators, and a small room, the best at his 
 i-onimand, was allotted to Mr. Fen'oll. The room was of 
 course a mere cell — a bare floor, a bed, and two chairs, 
 the only furniture. The windows Avore liaiTcd, and tlie 
 door -when closed A\'as also locked. Mi\ TerroU walked 
 up and down the room chafing against himself. "This 
 is disagreeable," he said abi-uptly; "coercion,, under 
 restraint, punishment — detestable words!" and mur- 
 muring the same over and over again witliout seeming 
 
 Paul FcrroH. y
 
 114 PAUL FEflROII. 
 
 to find they grew better, look at them as he would, he 
 still -svalked from end to end of his narrow limits. 
 
 There are moments in the first changing of our 
 fortunes for the worse, which seem to be a specimen of 
 all the time to come, and which arc intolerable. "She 
 must see this" broke aloud from Mr. Ferroll's lips, and 
 mechanically he turned to the table to take pen and ink, 
 and write to Elinor, but nothing was there — he struck 
 the ground impatiently wdth his foot; to be obliged to 
 wait till some one should come, and that some one, find 
 that he had been wanted, waited for, to furnish a com- 
 mon necessary of every day life! Again his soul chafed 
 within him; but it was a short time only that he was 
 left to solitude. Steps approached before long, the key 
 turned in the lock, and there entered a gentleman, iipon 
 seeing whom, Mr. Ferroll's face brightened far more 
 than was usual with him upon meeting an acquaintance, 
 and/ hastily advancing to each other, their hands were 
 friendlily clasped, and hearty greetings exchanged. 
 
 "Bixt, FerroU, why are you here?" said the new 
 comer, in the same breath with his "how d'ye do?" 
 
 "Is not it ridiculous?" cried Mr. FerroU, laughing. 
 "I might be abroad of course, but only under obligation 
 to some of these fellow-countrjonen of mine, and weigh- 
 ing the advantage and disadvantage, I decided for 
 gaol." 
 
 "And Where's the advantage, except to give people 
 an idea nobody chose to bail you?" 
 
 "People! what is it to me what people think!" 
 
 "It is a great deal, when a man is going to stand 
 his trial for life and death." 
 
 "It don't matter. I will stand alone."
 
 PAn FEEEOIL. 115 
 
 "You have the most pertinacious ideas, when once 
 they are conceiyed, of any man I know." 
 
 "Xever mind. But, Harrowby, I suppose by seeing 
 you here, that you are engaged against me — are 
 you?". 
 
 "I am; they were with me last night, and I took the 
 fee." 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "Or else I could not have seen you." 
 
 "That I know; and who is there left for me?" 
 
 "I came partly to talk to you about it. They have 
 retained — and — ." 
 
 "By Jove! aR that are worth having." 
 
 "Yes, but yom' ciAise is very much the best. B — 
 would make a good hand of it; I told liim this moment 
 it was most likely you'd employ him, and being yoimg, 
 he is anxious to be leader, and keeps liimsclf out of the 
 way of the other side. "Who's your attorney?" 
 '"Oh, I'U have Shadwell, I tliinlc." 
 
 "Well, send for him at once; don't lose time, 
 Ferroll." 
 
 "Get me pen and ink then, for I've none." 
 
 "Anything else I can do?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, you must do several things. My servant 
 is somewhere or other. At the Harold's Spear, I should 
 think. Send him here, wiU you? he must go home -uith 
 a message from me." 
 
 "That I'll do; anytliing else?" 
 
 "Bring me Life in the Fourth Century, from the 
 bookseller, or send it." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Nothing more, except to come again if you 'vc time. 
 Let us sup together, though it won't be like the round- 
 
 8*
 
 116 PAUL FEEKOLl. 
 
 room Slippers. Elinor, and yon, and I. I wish Mrs. 
 Harrowby were here." 
 
 "Yon won't send for Mrs. Ferroll here?" 
 
 "Indeed I will, thongh. What am I without 
 her?" 
 
 "But such a wretched place." 
 
 "It won't be so when she comes." 
 
 "But to her?" 
 
 "Oh, I must have her here. That's what I want 
 to send home for; she must come, is coming. You are 
 in a hurry, I suppose, so good bye, Harrowby; I'm so 
 glad to see you." 
 
 "Good bye, Ferroll; and for heaven's sake do be quick 
 with your attorney; I'll send you up writing things, and 
 let yoiu' groom go to Jam first — will you?" 
 
 "A^ery well, very well." 
 
 Mr. Harrowby faithfully performed his commissions; 
 materials for writing were presented as soon as he could 
 ask for them, and they could follow his request, and by 
 the time Mr. Ferroll had written notes to Elinor and 
 his attorney, he heard the approach of feet, and rightly 
 judged that the gaoler was conducting his groom to 
 Mm. 
 
 As the door was unlocked he got up from the table, 
 and turning his back to the entrance, approached the 
 window, as though he needed its light to fold and wafer 
 the tw^o notes. Thus he could speak to the servant 
 without looking at Mm, at least for a time. "Here 's 
 a note for Mr. 8hadwell, which you must take directly, 
 but merely leave it; don't wait for an answer, and then 
 go home with tMs one for Mrs. EeiToll. Tell the 
 coachman when you get in, that the carriage will be 
 wanted directly. There."
 
 PA.UI. FEBEOLI. 117 
 
 The groom advanced to take them, looking awkward 
 and puzzled. ''Am I to come for orders, su-, in the 
 morning?" 
 
 "What?" said Mi\ FcrroU, putting his hands behind 
 his back, and fully fronting the groom; "no, you need 
 not come back, unless I write. And, George," calling 
 him back, "Miss FeiToll's pony must be turned out every 
 morning before she rides." 
 
 The man retired; the master wliistled; but he had 
 little time for that employment, so many friends came 
 with offers of services; his attorney came so quickly, 
 and had to receive directions, and offer advice about the 
 course of defence to be pursued. Elinor at last came, 
 closely veiled, and silent after her hand was in that of 
 her husband's, till the door was shut again, and the 
 sound of the tuming key was over. Then she threw 
 her arms roiuid his neck and sobbed aloud. He drew 
 her to a chaii', and sitting down by her, tried to soothe 
 her, but it was in vain for a time; the occasion, the 
 place, the anxiety had overcome hci'. 
 
 "But if )ou suffer so from all this, which is but 
 mere shadow," said Mr. FcrroU, "what would the reality 
 be? To-mon-ow, you know, I must be tried for my life; 
 1 mu.-t stand accused of having done murdci'. Suppose 
 they find me guilty?" 
 
 "That they can't do," she said; "because you are 
 not." 
 
 "I killed a man; if the law says I did it unlawfully, 
 I have done a murder." 
 
 Mr. Ferroll tried her too mucli; the words to which 
 sucli loathing is attaclied thus fastened on her husband, 
 overworked Iut nerves; lier heart suddenly fluttered so, 
 that she gasped for breath; and with a faint hystciic
 
 / 
 
 118 PAXII- PERROLI. 
 
 laugh and sob, she fell powerless, caught in the act of 
 falling, by him. He shook his head, as if there were 
 a grain of vexation felt by him in the midst of the fond 
 and lavish care he spent to revive lier. 
 
 "Could you not bear it, my Elinor; would it change 
 me for you though I had even done that deed?" 
 
 "But you have not" she cried, clinging to hhn. 
 "What is said of you can change nothing, while what 
 you do, and have done, is best." 
 
 Mr. FerroU sighed, but said no more. He arranged 
 the easiest seat he could, and placed his wife upon it, 
 sitting down beside her; her head was on his shoulder, 
 her hands in his, and he felt round him in the prison 
 the spirits of kindness and love, making a sunsliine in 
 that shady place. 
 
 The meeting that night between his friend and him 
 
 was gay — was joyous. Elinor stayed only till their 
 
 slight repast was placed on the table, and then went 
 
 to the lodging provided for her, too nervous and fearful 
 
 to be able to bear a part in conversation, and needing 
 
 all her strength against to-morrow. The two gentlemen 
 
 ate and drank; and then the flood-gates of their souls 
 
 were opened, and they talked. They were companions 
 
 in literary labours, and all the worlds of things and 
 
 people that live in books, were the habitual subjects 
 
 of their thoughts and talk. Eeleased, too, from the 
 
 presence of observances, no longer being obliged to think 
 
 what other people would tliink of his situation, and his 
 
 behaviour under it, Mr. Ferroll's splits rose with the 
 
 excitement of his position. "One can't come near the 
 
 palaces of Death," he said, "without feeling their 
 
 juajesty — without longing to look into the halls, which
 
 PArL FEEEOH. 119 
 
 one sees like a traveller passing beneath a great sover- 
 eign's dwelling." 
 
 " When the mountains rear 
 
 Their peaks beneath your human foot, and there 
 You look down o'er the ijrecipice, and drear 
 The gulf of rock yawns, you can't gaze a minute 
 Without an awful wish to plunge witliiu it," 
 
 said HaiTOwby; "but I suppose it's different if a man 
 really and truly believes he is to enter the great gates. 
 You know that you shall only pass near enough to have 
 heard the great voice, felt the cold shadow — but imagine 
 a condemned man, reiToU, condemned for to-morrow?" 
 
 "Still there would be all to-night and part of 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "Xay, but suppose to-morrow come — the minute 
 come?" 
 
 "Even then it is not death, but the paia of an 
 uimatural death; for the last minute comes to a man 
 dying in his bed, and for the most part, he 'lays liim 
 down to rest, Calm as a slumbering iufant.'" 
 
 "Yes, old Bidderley — do you remember him? — 
 walked out in the morning strong and well, fell under 
 a tree which was being cut down, and was crushed to 
 death. He lay a little while on the grass before he 
 died, and called his workmen and children round him 
 to say his few last words, as contented as if he had been 
 ill for months." 
 
 "Do you think perhaps that men dying, grow weak, 
 have no mind to begin work afresh, however \iolently 
 their fellow-creature's, sickness, or chance, burst the iron 
 gates of life." 
 
 "That's fine," said Mr. Han'owby; "it would do 
 fur me to-moiTow when I come to the tragical part; for
 
 120 FAXTL FEEROLL. 
 
 instance, sec the rude hand bursting the iron gate of 
 life of a fellow-creature." 
 
 "Pshaw! that's like breaking the park paling. Tiy 
 again — the wanton aggressor, the violent man, sur- 
 rounded by friends, by wealth, by honour, sees his 
 fellow-man threaten for a moment, and ere the honest 
 creature — liis friend, gentlemen, mark me, his friend, 
 though an humble one, can repent of his accidental 
 
 movement, this man — this gentleman Stop, I'm 
 
 getting too low and scuitHous for the high flight of the 
 iron gates." 
 
 Harrowby laughed. "Yes, but you began well; the 
 wanton aggressor is good, so is the honest creature and 
 the friend excellent. — Friends, yes, once friends as 
 the high and low can be, mutual benefits bound them; 
 for Ivind feelings are benefits as much as kind deeds, 
 gentlemen; yet he forgot it all, rashed over the sacred 
 bonds of man's right, with sacrilegious hand burst the 
 iron gate of life." 
 
 "Very well, Harrowby; you grow in earnest; you 
 cast such a fine glance upon me out of your eye — 
 such real indignation. I can already see you sitting 
 down to-morrow, wiping the sweat off your brow, and 
 not yet quite enough out of your part, to look at me 
 and laugh." 
 
 His friend laughed now; and both being in the fughest 
 spirits, they argued, talked nonsense, and travestied the 
 world, till the gaoler came to say he was obliged to 
 lock the doors, at which Mr. Eerroll frowned, and 
 Mr. Harrowby laughed again, and went away. 
 
 It is to be supposed how crowded the court was next 
 day, to sec Mr. FerroU brought in a prisoner, which was 
 interesting alike to those who knew him a free man,
 
 PAUl FEEEOLL. 121 
 
 and to those who never had seen him before. There is 
 always humiliation in resti-aint; the person subject to 
 it, is either an object of contempt, or of an unnatural 
 demonstration of respect which shows that his com- 
 panions are thinking of his degraded circumstances; and 
 though Mr. Ferroll was surrounded by persons anxious 
 to do him credit all the waj from the prison to the 
 court, yet still he was a prisoner and had to stand at the 
 bar of justice, and bear the accusation of crime and the 
 possibility of punishment. 
 
 The indictment was read. He was accused, that 
 by a shot discharged from a pistol he had committed 
 murder on the body of James Skcnfrith at such an hour 
 and such a day; and this was followed by the inquiry, 
 "Aii thou guilty of the murder whereof thou standest 
 accused, or not guilty?" 
 
 To this fonnaUty Mr. FeiToll returned a hearty "not 
 guilty," wliich was followed by as hearty a miu-mur of 
 assent through the court, though it was unworded. But 
 after tliis, the other fomis were passed through with the 
 ordinary respectful silence, and the jury being summoned 
 and sworn, the clerk declared the crime of the prisoner, 
 and the counsel for the indictment rose to deliver liis 
 speech. We have already in the prison seen something 
 of what tins was to be, and will not therefore follow it 
 in its elaborated state. It was delivered witli all that 
 unction wbich a jtractised lawyer knows how to throw 
 into his great forensic displays, and Avliich, on this 
 occasion, contained many of the expressions which the 
 two friends had pei'fected between them the night 
 before. 
 
 When Mr. Han-owby sat down, excited and cx- 
 hau-stcd, it so happened that ho did hastily wipe the
 
 122 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 perspiration from liis brow, as Mr. Ferroll had pictured 
 before tliem both, that he would do, and the moment 
 he had done it, recollecting what had passed, he looked 
 towards his friend hastily, and caught his eye fixed on 
 him and a smile on his mouth, which quite banished the 
 actor and brought back the self in Mr. Harrowby, who, 
 suddenly losing his assumed character, had to snatch his 
 handkerchief again from his desk, and crowd it over his 
 face to liide the laughter which burst out. Mr. FerroU 
 also laughed — a little scornfully, and the court was 
 somewhat scandalized by this unusual act of good fel- 
 lowship between the accuser and the accused. 
 
 Except this variety, little occurred beyond the routine 
 which every trial follows, in which the end appears 
 very plainly in view. The witnesses for the accusation 
 all tended to prove, that the weapon in the hand of 
 James Skenfrith was such as could inflict no great bodily 
 injury, and that his words and gestures were such as to 
 show he had no intention of committing any; that Mr. 
 Ferroll's conduct had been provoking and his actions 
 hasty, and that the man who was undoubtedly slain was 
 also murdered. On the other hand, the witnesses for 
 the prisoner proved that the peril was imminent, the 
 intentions of the man evidently fatal, Mr. FeiToU for- 
 bearing, and that he had acted only on extremity, and 
 the latter evidence so much preponderated in weight and 
 perspicacity that when the judge came to sum up, his 
 charge was clearly and decidedly in favour of a perfect 
 acquittal. 
 
 It now became the part of the jury to decide upon 
 the case they had heard. The weary clock in the gal- 
 lery tolled out the half- hour after five. As they were 
 beginning to consult together, the judge, sadly glancing
 
 PArL FEKEOLL. 123 
 
 at his -svatcli, suggested that the court should adjourn, 
 and appoint a time for heaiing the verdict; but the fore- 
 man of the jxu-y thought it was unnecessaiy, and re- 
 quested a few minutes' patience. The verdict was indeed 
 plain enough on the judge's summing up. With this 
 prospect of release, the judge took patience and settled 
 himself for the short time still to elapse before they 
 could frame their verdict. Mr. Ferroll, sitting down, 
 looked over a pocket book which he held in his hand, 
 and in which he had been noting the ti'aits of nature, 
 and the remarkable words which had passed before him 
 during the dav. The counsel had all withdrawn after 
 their speeches were made, except Mr. Han'owby, who 
 had remained near his friend; the weary clerks of the 
 court stood on their accustomed legs like hackney cab- 
 horses, or slumbered sitting upright against the waU. 
 Silence and suspense lasted minute after minute. 
 
 At last the foreman came forward and signed to the 
 clerk of the court, who started into action, and said pro- 
 fessionally, "Gentlemen of the juiy, are you all agreed 
 on your verdict?" 
 
 "We can't agree," said the foreman. 
 
 Surprise ran through the whole court, for the whole 
 tenor of the day had been for a favourable verdict, but 
 the habits of the court permitted no such expression. 
 
 "Then," said the judge, "you must rctiim under the 
 cliargc of an officer of the court, and the clerk of the 
 court will wait till you return. The pxisoner may be 
 removed, and brought up again for sentence." 
 
 So saying, he rose from his seat, jerked his robes 
 about him, quite too tired to think as much of dignity 
 a.s he had done in the morning, and passed out of the 
 court.
 
 124 PAUL FEKKOLL. 
 
 "The prisoner may be removed!" said ]\Ir. Ferroll, 
 to his friend Harrowby. "This is carrying the play into 
 weariness — the joke grows tiresome — Han'owbj', will 
 you rim on and tell Elinor to meet me in the gaol — poor 
 dear, she has been keeping her fire bright for me too 
 long already." 
 
 Mr. HaiTowby, more dismayed than he cared to 
 acknowledge, went out of the court on liis errand. The 
 friends who remained to this late hour, came round !Mi'. 
 FeiToU, their faces blank in spite of their efforts to be 
 gay, and to ti'cat the delay as a mere temporary incon- 
 venience. He himself was weary, and anxious to escape 
 from the importvuiity of his situation, and to be free, to 
 do, and look, and be as he pleased. But he preserved 
 his self-command, unbroken, and passed away from the 
 court with the same air of freedom that would have 
 been his in his most prosperous day — he neither ti'illed 
 with danger nor shrank before it. It was not his com- 
 panion but his attendant. 
 
 ♦ "How pale you are, my dearest," he said, as soon 
 as he and his wife were alone in the prison, "and you 
 have been crying; all alone all day and grieving about 
 me! Why did you grieve, Elinor?" 
 
 "It does not matter about me," she said, "it is you 
 who suffer. Oh, Paul, when -will all end?" 
 
 "It is vexatious," he said, "and the thing is so 
 clear before them, that one does not know what they 
 are hesitating about. The same tiresome fools who 
 thought of murder at the coroner's inquest, I suppose, 
 are meddling in the verdict. But there can be but one 
 end to it." Elinor shuddered. 
 
 "What, do you think they'll hang me, Elinor?"
 
 PAXJl FEEEOLL. 
 
 125 
 
 "For heaven's sake don't say those horrible words. 
 You could look straight into a cannon's mouth, but I 
 cannot." 
 
 "Xay, dearest; but I don't beliere this time in the 
 reality of danger. Keep that in view in your estimate 
 of me. I knoTV it is only passing by." 
 
 Meanwhile, more dreary than the prison, more weaiy 
 than the prisoner, were the room and the men in which 
 and by whom his fate was being decided. Without fire, 
 in a cold March night, without any light, except a dim 
 lamp in the top of the door, the room containing the 
 twelve jurymen looked worse than any apartment in the 
 gaol. The jury was composed of men unaccustomed to 
 hardship. Mter the long confinenaent of the day, to 
 return home and find an agreeable meal, an excellent 
 fire, an arm-chair, and their own bed, was almost second 
 nature — the miserableness of cold, and of the prolonga- 
 tion of fatigue, was an unnatural torment. To some it 
 was much worse than others — the eager, hard man 
 could bear it; but the man who (without blame to him- 
 self) cherished his body, had hardly power to stand 
 against it. Eleven of the jurymen were agreed — one 
 wiry man stood out for guilty — he had his own crotchet 
 on the subject — his own persuasion that Mr. FeiToll 
 kiUcd James because he was a poor man — not because 
 there was necessity to do it — and nothing that counsel, 
 witnesses, or judge liad said that day, had moved him 
 for an instant from his persuasion. 
 
 "The summing up of the judge was as clear as any 
 direction could be," said ^Ir. Ramhclrac, for the twentieth 
 time. 
 
 "The judge is not fit to try tliis case," said the wiiy
 
 126 PAUIi FEEKOLL. 
 
 Mr. Holmes, "Ferroll saved his life, and of course he 's 
 prejudiced." 
 
 "You do admit then that the judge "would have been 
 murdered?" 
 
 "No, I don't — murdered? No; and besides that, 
 there 's no right to do evil to one man, in order to save 
 him from doing it to another." 
 
 "Yes, there is. You'd defend yourself, I suppose, 
 if I woke you at night, with a knife in my hand, touching 
 your throat?" 
 
 "James had only a bludgeon — that's proved. Isaac 
 Smith's evidence is, *I saw James cut a stick out of the 
 hedge; and he said this is enough for me.' Do try to 
 remember the evidence." 
 
 "Enough for the judge too, enough for Lord Ewyas; 
 a tliick stick, alias a bludgeon, could knock their 
 brains out." 
 
 "Could! yes, so could this poker knock out yours if 
 it could move from its place." 
 
 "Pshaw! that's cMldish." 
 
 "However, I say FerroU is guilty." 
 
 Another half hour passed, and things waxed worse 
 and worse. The hours towards dawn came with their 
 bitter cold — more than one of the jury shook with the 
 cold, and their empty stomachs added a very positive 
 pain to their other miseries. Their sense of the im- 
 portance of their trust, kept away the expression of the 
 peevish feelings which could not but arise, and what 
 touch of the ludicrous there was in their situation, would 
 have affected a bystander, but not themselves. 
 
 "How long can you bear this?" said Mr. Jones, to 
 his neighbour. "It has ceased to be matter of argument, 
 and become a contest of strength."
 
 PAUI FEKROLL. 127 
 
 "To tell you the truth," said his neighbour, "Holmes 
 I believe knew he should keep us at bay, and provided 
 himself with lozenges to preserve his own strength." 
 
 "Veil, a man's life must not be sacrificed for a 
 lozenge," said Jones, trying to button his coat more 
 warmly over his chest. 
 
 Mr. Montague was walking up and down the room 
 with Holmes, trying to argue him into assent to the 
 judgment of the eleven. Holmes himself was getting 
 tired. Mr. Montague was a smooth-tongued man. "This 
 Ferroll is a man of so much importance — not so much 
 as to wealth and station, for his estate you know, Mr. 
 Holmes, can't be two thousand a -year; but he is so 
 useful, and he is of considerable consequence in the 
 literar}' world; and then nobody knows better than 
 you, Mr. Holmes, what exertions he made during the 
 cholera, because you were on the committee, and I 
 observed your name and his frequently together in the 
 districts." 
 
 "Yes, yes, all very true; but we should look at 
 facts." 
 
 "You have said that before; veiy truly too — but 
 really we have gone through facts so often; and I do 
 think, when we are not called on to give reason for our 
 decision, when it is left to us to form our own oiiinion 
 as to a man's motives, and so on, and tliat kind of thing, 
 that our opinion may lawfully be moidded in some de- 
 gree on our knowledge of a man's character." 
 
 "Yes, we are judges now." 
 
 "Very true; I, and each of us, you and I, arc judges 
 of this vcrj' remarkable man; eleven of us agree in a 
 favourable judgment — so we have pretty well done 
 with our office; but you have to convince us, or to allow
 
 128 PAUL TEREOLL. 
 
 US the weight of our united opinion — you are Ferroll's 
 judge in fact. A judge should be merciful, Holmes." 
 
 "I haye to speak to facts, Mr. Montague; othei-wise 
 I'm sure, if it depended on me, I should have no ob- 
 jection to mercy." 
 
 "You'd have liim pardoned, even if guilty," said 
 Mr. Montague, an idea suddenly rushing into his 
 mind. 
 
 "Oh, by all means, if possible — pardoned ■ — 
 yes." 
 
 "Well, Holmes," said Mr. Montague, takiag him by 
 the button, and drawing him aside, "what do you think 
 of tins verdict, if the rest would agree? for indeed the 
 fact of the death of James is certain — giiilty, but 
 strongly recommended to mercy." 
 
 "Guilty, but recommended to mercy — well, I don't 
 want to appear obstinate — strongly recommended — 
 humph!" 
 
 "Jones," said Mr. Montague, calling up that gentle- 
 man, "just come this way. Mr. Holmes has been ar- 
 guing with me that the prisoner should be censured, 
 that our opinion of the fact that he killed James, should 
 be recorded, but that also our wish that he should be 
 pardoned should also be mentioned, so we suggest 
 the verdict — guilty, but strongly recommended to 
 mercy." 
 
 The step gained, the hope opened of an end to their 
 misery was a strong temptation. Mr. Jones hesitated, 
 Mr. Montague called others, certain that if one of them 
 could see tliat he should not stand alone in his agreement, 
 he would agree — the hesitation was great at first; then, 
 there came in three who liad retired to a comer to argue 
 this view of the question, and had agreed together; then
 
 PAUL FEEHOLL. 129 
 
 anotlier joined, and another. At last Mr. Talbot stood 
 alone in opposition, becoming the new Holmes; and at 
 last, ashamed of copj-iug an example so odions at this 
 moment in the eyes of all the men in the room, he too 
 gave in, and they came to an unworthy but unanimous 
 agreement that the yerdict should be "Guilty, but strongly 
 recommended to mercy." 
 
 Meantime the prisoner's night had been more peace- 
 ful. He was more tired with the weaiisome day he had 
 passed, than with any one of bodily or mental exertion 
 which he remembered at home. "Indeed, dear Elinor," 
 he said, "I will go into my narrow bed there, for my 
 eyes refuse their office." 
 
 But Mrs. FerroU's feverish excitement made the idea 
 of repose impossible. " Could you really sleep ? but every 
 minute they may come to call you back to the court; 
 surely it is quite impossible tliere should be any long 
 deliberation. Don't sleep, Paul, speak to me." 
 
 "Are you fiightencd, my dearest wife?" he said, 
 putting his ann romid her, and pressing her trembling 
 form against liimself. "You ti'emble like a young hare 
 cauglat under a Ijoy's hat. jS'ay, ne-ser be afraid; the 
 worst end of all would not be worth fear." 
 
 "No, no, I know it is only a little delay; perhaps 
 this very minute they are agreeing to pronounce you 
 free; tliey may be coming now into the court of tliis 
 detestable place to call you." 
 
 "I wish meantime I my weary eyes might close." 
 
 "But woidd you 1)0 found sleei)ing by them? would 
 you i)retcnd such indifference." 
 
 "TJiat's true; tliey miglit think I fi'igned the in- 
 difference which I feci. Well, well, I won't go to 
 
 I'aiU Fcrroll. 9
 
 130 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 bed; let us sit close together, and have a littfe rational 
 discourse." 
 
 They sate down, hand in hand; but Mr. Ferroll's 
 weariness overcame his intention of conversing, and 
 gradually letting his face sink on the arm he had laid 
 upon the little table, he fell into a profound sleep. 
 Elinor sate by him, equally tired, but unable so much 
 as to close her eyes, and her sense of hearing unnaturally 
 excited to distinguish the slightest sound. "When the 
 morning light was thoroughly established, the sound she 
 expected came. Feet approached, the lock of the door 
 turned, and the Governor himself appeared to say that 
 the jury had announced themselves ready, and that the 
 Judge was proceeding to the court to hear the verdict, 
 in presence of the prisoner. 
 
 Mr. Ferroll roused himself as the noise of the open- 
 ing door awoke him. "I have been very comfortable, 
 Elinor; have you been comfortable too? Stay here, my 
 dearest pale Elinor; sit in my place till I come back. 
 It will be but a very short process now; a quarter of an 
 hour, or twenty minutes, will bring me back to you. 
 Kiss me — God be with you;" for ^Ir. Ferroll often 
 lengthened "good bye" into all its words. 
 
 When he reached the court in charge of the sheriffs' 
 officers, the jury was already seated. The cold gray 
 court with many an empty bench, looked forlorn in the 
 misty March morning. A knot of Mr. FeiToll's fiiends 
 met him as he came in, greeting and conducting liim to 
 the bar, where he took his place; and he was scarcely 
 there, when the judge was ushered by his men to his 
 ehair under the canopy, and the clerk rising, inquired of 
 the jury, "Gentlemen, are you all agi-eed on your verdict? 
 Is the prisoner guilty, or not guilty?" ^
 
 VXVL FEEEOLL. 131 
 
 The foreman came forward; he paused a little, as if 
 summoniag his voice to speak before that eager assembly, 
 and then when the silence was woimd up to the last 
 breathlessness of expectation, pronounced the words 
 "Guilty, but strongly recommended to mercy." 
 
 There was a profound pause. Each one looked at 
 his neighbour to see by his face whether he hi m self had 
 heard rightly, then at the prisoner; but his expression 
 was that of a man who hears an odd piece of news, 
 rather than any other feeling. The judge was discom- 
 posed, and with a heavy groan, as at the stupidity of his 
 fellow-creatuiX's, he rose to perform the duty about which 
 there was no choice left Mm. In as biting terms as he 
 could make consistent with his dignity and that of the 
 office, he observed upon the conclusion which the intel- 
 ligence of the jury had enabled them to draw from the 
 premises before them, and which compelled him to pass 
 the sentence of death upon the prisoner, and then pro- 
 ceeded to announce that he had more satisfaction in 
 assuring the prisoner that the remainder of the verdict 
 was such as he himself should gladly act upon, by for- 
 warding to the proper quarter the recommendation to 
 mercy of the jury, wldch he was perfectly convinced 
 would be as promptly attended to. reiToll made a dig- 
 nified bend of his head to this address, and stood quiet 
 while his friends came crowding round him. 
 
 "Take no notice of it, Ferroll," cried one; "it's the 
 greatest blunder men ever made." 
 
 "The verdict is ridiculous," said another, "It wiU 
 be reversed. The Cro-\\-n and Parliament will take 
 it up." 
 
 "I'U go to London myself, Mr. FciToll," said Lord 
 
 9*
 
 132 TAXTL FEEKOLL. 
 
 Ewyas; "wliatever interest I have sliall be employed 
 for you." 
 
 "My dear lord, there's no hurry," said Mr. Ferroll. 
 "I'm excessively obKged to you all; but really the merits 
 of the case will stand my friends." 
 
 "Nay, but it's an honour to us to be of any use to 
 you," cried Lord Ewyas. 
 
 "An honour to be the ally of a man who has com- 
 mitted murder?" said Mr. FerroU, smiling. 
 
 "Oh, nonsense; it's the maddest verdict I ever 
 heard." 
 
 "But it pronounced me guilty of the crime," said Mr. 
 Ferroll. 
 
 "jSTo matter," cried several, enthusiastically. 
 
 "jSTo matter? "Well, that's nobly said. And now, 
 gentlemen, as the thing is over for the present I'll bid 
 you farewell, with the best of my thanks; and under 
 whatever circumstances we meet again, I shall always 
 remember that you could hear me condemned for mur- 
 der, yet remaiQ my "fiiends." So shaking hands, and 
 bowing to others, he signed to the gaoler that he was 
 ready to attend him, and resumed the way to the 
 prison.
 
 PAUI, FEEEOIL. 133 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A PArNFTL and anxious time passed for many persons 
 after the scenes detailed in the last chapter. They were 
 a call upon the patience of Mr. FerroU, "svho longed to 
 be again about his own employment in his own way; 
 but to his wife they were a tiial beyond what he had 
 an idea of. The prolonged suspense — after suspense 
 seemed just about to terminate — the hoiTor of the sen- 
 tence registered against her husband, even though it 
 should be put aside, the fact, or rather the fancy, that 
 there was not perfect impossibility that it should be 
 confirmed , these things produced an effect upon her, 
 imdermining the very springs of life. It had been pro- 
 posed to Mr. Ferroll to keep 'secret from her the fatal 
 nature of the sentence, till the answer from London 
 should arrive; but to that he would not agree. "To 
 whom could I talk of the subject interesting to me?" 
 said he. "How could I talk to her, if there were any 
 secrets between her and me?" He told it to her him- 
 self, tenderly and carefully; and the excess of her out- 
 gushing love when she heard it, compensated to him for 
 the suffering, and enabled her to wear the appearance of 
 bearing it without any reference to her own part in the 
 trial. 8he never thought of the ill-effect it was having 
 on her, the inability to sleep, the distaste for food that 
 came over her; the shuddering cold she felt, the floods 
 of tears which, when she was away from her husband,
 
 134 PATII, -FEEEOLL. 
 
 and sometimes in his presence, burst forth — neither 
 did he perceive that she was bearing more than he did; 
 that she was involuntarily and unconsciously a martyr to 
 her situation, while he carried off his martyrdom with 
 all the boldness of his own spirit, all the assistance of 
 admiration and hero-worship — and greatest of all, with 
 the perfect conviction in his own mind, that in the end 
 there would be nothing to bear. All he sought to avoid 
 was obligation to neighbours. A petition was signed in 
 his favour by all the best names in the county in the 
 course of the day, and Lord Ewyas was ready to carry 
 it to London, and to forward it with whatever interest 
 he had; but Mr. Ferroll as soon as he came back to 
 prison, sent for his friend Harrowby, and desired him to 
 get himself employed by the judge to carry his message 
 to the Home Secretary in London, and to undertake the 
 other measures which would take the advance of anji;hing 
 that might be done elsewhere in his favour. He had 
 support in men in power, who knew him chiefly for his 
 literary character, and to whom he applied as asking a 
 right rather than a favour. 
 
 "That kind of obligation suits me best, Harrowby," 
 he said; "and I mean to pay you for the time which 
 you will lose at the next assizes, and so be easy in my 
 mind." 
 
 "But as your neighbours are so civil to you," said 
 his friend, "would not it be better to tell them what 
 you are going to do for yourself — work along with 
 them at least, won't you?" 
 
 "No; I wish them to know that I can do without 
 them." 
 
 "Do you dislike them so much?"
 
 PAUL FEEEOLL. 135 
 
 "I don't dislike them at all; some I like. Lord 
 Ewyas is excellent good company." 
 
 "Then why are you so unsociable?" 
 
 "Humph! — Oh, I don't know." 
 
 "You don't know indeed!" 
 
 "Do you?" said Mr. FerroU, looking up at him. 
 
 "]S^." 
 
 "That's said in the tone of yes. "W'hat is it then?" 
 
 "You know my feeling towards you, Ferroll. You 
 know how I have regarded you these eighteen years?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 ""Well then, supposing I have known a thing re- 
 specting you, it is plain that thing does not influence 
 my regard. You arc sure of that?" 
 
 "Yes — ^ go on." 
 
 "It was something respecting your late wife." 
 
 Mr. FeiToU looked down sti-aight on the floor. "And 
 that was?" he asked. There was a pause which he 
 could not bear. After a minute had passed — "What 
 about her?" he said. 
 
 "FerroU," cried his friend, "your blood boils, your 
 face " 
 
 "It does not matter about my '6lood," said Ferroll, 
 speaking slowly. "You know partly what a time of agony 
 her life was to me." 
 
 "Yes; you were as nearly mad as a man of your 
 rocky intellect could be. Let it be what it will that you 
 did at that time, it was not you did it." 
 
 "It urns I. You don't mean what you say. You 
 don't think I ever fell under the command of my im- 
 pulses." 
 
 "No, I don't; I believe you never did anything you 
 had not fully purposed to do. You would never liave
 
 136 rAUL PEREOLL. 
 
 beaten the woman — you would not have killed her, 
 but I don't think you were quite yourself to do this 
 tiling." 
 
 "And what tiling is it?" said Mr. Ferroll, looking 
 up again. 
 
 "What they say, FerroU, is, that you shouldn't have 
 kept her fortune, having no children, and you and 
 she " 
 
 "Oh, and they say the county avoided me on that 
 account?" 
 
 "N'o; they say you avoided the county — not being 
 pleased with yourself." 
 
 "Well, Harrowby, I did 7iot do that thing. One 
 single penny of that woman's money did not stay with 
 me, nor near me. I can prove it to you or anybody; 
 and if I were at home I ivould prove it to you. I have 
 the brother's receipt and declaration that I gave over 
 everything to him, and did not keep the value of one 
 penny. He knew I hated her." 
 
 "Is it possible? How can the story have got 
 about?" 
 
 "I don't really think it has got far about. Have you 
 ever inquired into it from people in this part of the 
 world?" 
 
 "No; I never talked of it at all except to those who 
 told me." 
 
 "Who were those?" 
 
 "Your own set in London; it's a common story 
 among them." 
 
 "Why did not you talk to me?" 
 
 "Nay; why should I? I did not cai'e about it." 
 
 "You did not care whether I had committed an 
 action which "
 
 PATIIi FEEEOLL. 137 
 
 ''The like of wliich you never repeated; anything 
 more unlike your usual character it was impossible to 
 conceiye." 
 
 "So you would not give me up, if — or rather 
 although — I had done a thing which would fix a mark 
 upon my name — make the public loathe me." 
 
 " Oh , that 's too strong an expression ; the public 
 would care veiy little, after the first talk was over, 
 where your money came from, so that you had it." 
 
 "Well, but suppose they had, or thought they had 
 reason to loathe me?" 
 
 " Oh nonsense ; but it would make no difference 
 to me." 
 
 "Though some to me," said Mi*. FeiToU, smiling; 
 "suppose they hang me now, what shall you say to 
 having been the friend of a murderer so many years?" 
 
 "I should be quite a lion, alrhost as much a Uon as 
 yourself." 
 
 "Should you like it?" 
 
 "Like it? pshaw! There is not chance enough to 
 make me see my way in that question, so talk no more 
 nonsense, but give me my errand, and let me be off to 
 London." 
 
 Mr. Fcrroll slightly shi'uggcd his shoulders, and then 
 went on talking to his friend about the persons to go to, 
 and the means to be used. That very evening, while 
 the officious High Sheriff and the zealous Lord-Lieutenant 
 were dri-\-ing from place to place, adding name upon 
 name to the respectable list of petitioners for Mr. Ferroll's 
 release, Mr. Harrowby was in London, already engaged 
 Avith the men upon whom the success of the request de- 
 pended; and the next day, when Lord EA\yas was tra- 
 velling up with the petition to be presented, he was
 
 138 ;pAtrL fekeoll. 
 
 travelling down with the pardon granted. He kept a 
 vigilant look-out for the carriage of Lord Ewyas; and 
 finding horses had been ordered along the road for him, 
 waited at one of the towns, to arrive at which Lord 
 Ewyas's appointed hour was come, in order to meet 
 him so far on his journey. He had been walking about 
 the entrance to the van for a quarter of an hour, and his 
 own post-chaise stood aU ready for his start in the street, 
 when the clatter of four horses, and of a travelling car- 
 riage at post-boy's speed, was heard rapidly drawing 
 near. Up drove Lord E^vyas, and jumped from the car- 
 riage while the fresh four horses were suddenly taking 
 the place of the tired ones; he was stamping for a few 
 moments up and down the pavement, when the sight of 
 Mr. Harrowby caught his eyes. 
 
 "Ha! are you going to London, too," he said, shaking 
 hands, "and upon the same errand?" 
 
 "Indeed, my lord," said Mr. Harrowby, somewhat 
 embarrassed, "I am coming down iipon it." 
 
 "Why, I thought I saw you in Bewdy yesterday 
 morning.^" 
 
 "That's very true; but Eerroll sent for me the mo- 
 ment the trial was over — indeed, I went with him 
 back to the prison — and would hear of nothing but 
 despatching me at once to Mr. — , and Lord — , and 
 Mrs. — , and the — of — , to state the case to them, and 
 get their interference." 
 
 "On what ground?" said Lord Ewyas, rather drily. 
 
 "Oh, as a literary man, he knows them all well; 
 they take a prodigious uiterest in the case." 
 
 "So do I, I assure you; and shall be happy to add 
 the mite of my influence to such powerful protectors."
 
 PArL FEEEOIX. 139 
 
 "Your lordship is really and truly kind and generous 
 to him," said Mr. Harrowby, "and, therefore, you wHl 
 have pleasure in hearing that I have been successful — 
 that I have his pardon in my hand." 
 
 "You have got it?" 
 
 "Indeed, I have, the case seemed so very clear;" 
 and he sho\ved the document. 
 
 "I'm sorry in that case " Lord Ewyas began, 
 
 but stopped. 
 
 "So am I truly, my lord; I endeavoured to prevent 
 your lordship, and liis other ' friends , from taking such 
 kind trouble until it was kno-wn whether it should be 
 necessary; but FerroU " 
 
 "Oh, not at all; I have some business of my own in Lon- 
 don," said Lord Ewj-as, "and I should have been happy to have 
 added Mr. TerroU's to it; but as it is, I'm glad, Mr. Har- 
 rowby, that you have taken that trouble off my hands. 
 Good morning, Mr. Harrowby. What a state this turn- 
 pike road is in — remember me to ^Ir. Ferroll, and 
 convey my congratulations." 
 
 The two gentlemen shook hands; the one got into 
 his carriage with a slower and statelier step than he got 
 out of it, the other into Ids post-chaise doubly quick, and 
 glad to have done witli an interview which he had rather 
 dreaded. 
 
 The health of Mrs. Ferroll had undergone a shock 
 from which she could not rally. Her husband saw the 
 reflection of her sufferings during his imprisonment, in 
 her present trembling state. He had been the first actor 
 there, and he had forgotten the lesser actors in the 
 scene; now she was tlie fii-st, very unmllingly so, but 
 she could not overcome the nervousness into which she 
 had fallen, and ^hich made her weep bitterly if a door
 
 140 PAUL FEEEOLL, 
 
 were banged, and be on the brink of hysterics if in the 
 course of reading aloud, or conversation, there were men- 
 tion of situations identical with the one her husband had 
 been in. Mr. FeiToll's whole soul was moved by her 
 situation; his attention was drawn to her, and fixed on 
 her; and all that human tenderness could do to soothe 
 human suffering, he did for her. To enter on new 
 scenes was the evident remedy to be adopted; and though 
 her reluctance to the expedient was great, his unceasing 
 patience in combating the natural impression that she 
 was to die, and would fain die at home, and his gentle 
 firmness in removing all the objections to travel, which 
 her unwillingness discovered, attained his object, and 
 they were to leave the Tower. Where to go? to brighter 
 skies certainly — to places unseen before; somewhere 
 were 'they should meet with all the convenience of life ; 
 where there would be an attractive natural scenery, and 
 the possibility, at all events, of associating with human 
 beings. 
 
 They were acquainted with all the principal objects 
 and places of Europe. Sometimes it occurred to him to 
 cross the Atlantic, sometimes to go to Cairo, and fl.oat 
 upon the Xile, to see the first outposts of tropical vege- 
 tation, and to lose the sense of personal feelings in the 
 ruins of dead empires. 
 
 While these plans were in discussion, it happened 
 one morning when the letters were brought in, that Mr. 
 Ferroll received among others one upon wlaich his atten- 
 tion seemed greatly fixed for the minute that he spent 
 in perusing it. His wife perceived without much ob- 
 serving this; she expected him to put it into her hand 
 when he had read it, but he crushed all together that he 
 had received and soon after went out of the room. In
 
 \ 
 
 PAITL FEEEOLL. 14l 
 
 the course of the day she -went into his sitting room to 
 ask him a question, but he was not there, and on the 
 table she saw lying the letter in. question. She was in 
 the habit of reading his letters, and he hers indifferently; 
 she took up this one, and half opened it; then some- 
 thing struck her that it contaiucd what he meant should 
 be secret between them; she did not like the unusual 
 feeling, but she laid by the letter, A minute after, she 
 saw her husband walking along the terrace towards the 
 open window. 
 
 "Paul," she said, as he came in, "I have not read 
 your letter. I fancied I was not to read it." 
 
 "Xay," he said, "ifs a curiosity in its way — look 
 at it, Xelly," and he unfolded and read it aloud — 
 
 "Most eespectixtl Me. Feeeoll — I fear you'd have 
 thought us long in impressing our gi'atitude for your 
 kind compliance with our necessities fifteen years since; 
 but though silent we have always had pleasure in re- 
 flecting on the money then sent. Poor Pdchard don't 
 feel so much of that sentiment as me, but without much 
 blame to him, for he is dead, and now safe under ground. 
 Your honour think I am going to troubling him for more 
 aames; but I feel a pleashurc in saying I am nearly 
 above benevolence, having got a sum of munny out of 
 poor Kichard's sudden death, who had the assurance to 
 lay by a good few dollars in the place where they assure 
 one of sudden death, and indeed any death. These things 
 being, honoured sir, tliis come hopping for your honour's 
 pemission and ad\'ice to come back to England, where I 
 think poor Pdchard's sudden death will make me safe 
 and comfortable. Please write me your consent, and 
 direct America with speed, for I ought to have had a
 
 142 PAUL PEEEOLl. 
 
 letter once from my sister Ann, and for want of a pro- 
 per direction it got into death's post office, and never 
 came out as I was since informed. 
 
 I am, your honoured servant, 
 
 Maktha Pranks." 
 
 "Is that all?'' said Mrs. FerroU, laughing at the let- 
 ter; "and I fancied you did not want me to see it." 
 
 "Did you," said her husband, folding the letter and 
 putting it in his pocket. 
 
 "Who is she," continued !Mrs. FerroU, "and what was 
 your benevolence to her fifteen years ago; why that was 
 soon after we mari'ied?" 
 
 "Oh, she was a poor woman in the viUage, whom 
 with her husband I helped to leave this country and 
 get over to America." 
 
 "What did you say her name was?" 
 
 "Her name? oh Martha — but never mind that. It 
 will do very well to-day to take your sketchbook to the 
 waterfall, and I'll come with you. I must answer this 
 letter, and two or three others, and then I shall be 
 ready." 
 
 Mrs. Ferroll would rather have liked to read the 
 letter herself; but infinitely as her husband loved her, 
 did not ventiu-e to ask more — there was something about 
 him which she felt was secret even from her, and she 
 never got nearer to understanding it, than she did on 
 the night of Lady Bartlett's ball, to knowing why he 
 avoided going into society. Soon after, he said he had 
 given up the idea of any remote journey, and he thought 
 they would go to the south of France. Somehow or 
 other she connected the relinquishment of the project
 
 TXVI FEE.BOLL. 143 
 
 with the odd letter •which he had read to her, but not 
 put into her hand. 
 
 When Lady Lucy Bartlett heard the project of an 
 absence from home she very much disapproved of it. 
 "It would look," she said, "as if he felt himself rather 
 guilty and got out of the way to avoid reproach." 
 
 "I never thought of that before," said Mr. Ferroll, 
 "but yon don't think me rather guilty, do you?" 
 
 "Oh, I? what a question, almost a foolish question. 
 I have known you for eighteen years now; and of course 
 you could not do anj-thing so out of the wayj but other 
 people have not known you so long." 
 
 "Yet you know. Lady Lucy, I did do it." 
 
 "Do what?" cried she. 
 
 "I did kill that man." 
 
 "Oh not at all, Mr. Ferroll. I'm sure oh no- 
 body can think " 
 
 "But I did, indeed, it is a plaiu matter of fact. 
 Xobody ever denied it, eveiybody saw it; they heard the 
 pistol, saw him fall, he died by my hand." 
 
 "Pray don't — oh dear no; the judge and all the 
 court said not." 
 
 "Pardon me, they said I did — a few friends sug- 
 gested that I killed him only, but the majority, agreeing 
 to his being killed, said also he was murdered." 
 
 "Then why did " 
 
 "The)' not hang me? that was the royal fancy." 
 
 "Oh, dear, I chd not mean that." 
 
 "Yes, indeed, dear Lady Lucy, you did; and they 
 might have done it, you know. Now pray what should 
 you do by Elinor if she were here all in black and wliite 
 mourning for me, the hanged? She would have done no 
 harm, you know."
 
 144 PAUL FEEKOLL. 
 
 "Oh my poor, clear Mrs. EerroU! how wrong of you 
 to talk of such things." 
 
 "Nobody can realize," said Mr. Ferroli, moodily. 
 
 "Mrs. FexToU and Janet want nobody's merits but 
 their own, do they?" said Hugh, cheerily. 
 
 Mr. Ferroli looked up at him suddenly, "j^ay, fa- 
 mily merits are not to be lightly dispensed Avith," he 
 said. "Equals should mate with equals, distinguished 
 names with distinguished names, parks with parks," and 
 as his speech went on, it took a lighter, even a sarcastic 
 tone. 
 
 Hugh's countenance fell; he looked angry, took up a 
 book, and presently went out of the room. "What does 
 ail Eerroll about me?" he said to himself; "he never 
 misses an opportunity of implying that he does not want 
 me to marry Janet. I cannot think what it is. Perhaps 
 he thinks I hunt too much; I did talk to him about 
 Preston, the other day; he always contrives to make me 
 talk of hunting. And then it comes out in Janet's hear- 
 ing that he liimself has been writing a book all the time 
 I have been hunting. I've a good mind to take a first 
 class." Hugh walked on thinking over the things that 
 troubled him, but when he reflected that Janet was going 
 away for a year, perhaps two years, certainly that thought 
 was the worst of all. He went towards the Tower, and 
 as he came near, he saw Janet in the garden, watering 
 her own bed of flowers, among which were some ver- 
 benas which he had given her, "Janet," he said, "is it 
 true you are going to leave me?" 
 
 "We are going away, I believe," said Janet. "Mamma 
 has been, and is so unwell, and can't get better, that 
 they think it is right to change the scene for lier." 
 
 "Are you glad?"
 
 PAUl FEEEOLL. 145 
 
 "I'm glad if it does her good; and I shall be glad to 
 see other countries. Should not you like it, Hugh?" 
 
 "Why, at the vacations, perhaps, I could come and 
 join you; that is if Mr. FeiToU would like it." 
 
 It occurred so sti'ongly to Janet that her father would 
 not like it, that the colour mounted in her face, and she 
 was silent. Hugh saw it, and coloured also; neither 
 spoke. "Ah," he thought to Irunself, "if I belieyed 
 Janet would like it, I should not much mind who did 
 not." 
 
 "And why do you tliink he would not?" said he, 
 after a pause. 
 
 "Would not what? wlio would not like it?" 
 
 "Nay, you know what I mean; what reason does he 
 give for hating me?" 
 
 "Hating you! oh, indeed, indeed, you arc quite 
 entirely wi'ong." 
 
 "Well, perhaps so about quite hating; but you know 
 
 he does not like you know he objects you 
 
 know, Janet " 
 
 "No, I don't know." 
 
 "Does not he abuse me to you? does not he say I 
 am an ignorant coixntry squire; a horse master; a horse 
 myself?" 
 
 "No, upon my word, he does not: you are quite 
 wrong; he never says anjihing, not so much as he says 
 to you." 
 
 The yoimg squire fitUl felt dissatisfied. "I'm not 
 that, Janet. I could have got the prize for verses this 
 year, my tutor said, if I had tried; and as for field 
 sports, why, yon would not liave a man sit at home and 
 work Arabs on horsel)ack, like my sisters?" 
 
 "No, indeed, 1 would not." 
 
 Paul FerroU. 10
 
 146 PAUL PEKEOLL. 
 
 "Well, Janet, don't forget us all; don't fancy other 
 people better than your own people, and fine places 
 better than these places, though they are not, I know 
 very well, as fine as some are." 
 
 "Oh, but papa only said that because children, he 
 says, come to fancy what they know first are the best 
 things in the world. I do think, Hugh, that the Court, 
 with all those fine woods, and the hill behind, is as pretty 
 as it is possible any place can be." 
 
 "It is a nice place, is not it, my dear, dearest little 
 Jeannie?" 
 
 Here the Misses Bartlett were seen from a distance, 
 coming to take their share in Janet's farewells, and so 
 the dialogue broke off. 
 
 In another week they embarked in London for Bor- 
 deaux, Mr. Fen'oU never having again given one thought 
 to the impression Lady Lucy feared his absence at this 
 moment would make. It was summer time, and the 
 weather so calm that the Bay of Biscay lay all trembling 
 and murmuring beneath the vessel. They did not land 
 at any of the places where she touched. Sight-seeing 
 just now was more exertion than suited Mrs. Ferroll. 
 Profound and perfect quiet, the deep rest of the spirit, 
 exhausted by emotion, was what did her good; and in 
 this calm, sea voyage she enjoyed it to perfection. Se- 
 parated from the land and all its cares, the two objects 
 whom in different degrees she loved with all her love, 
 close to her; the idle progress over the sea, to which no 
 self-exertion of any kind contributed, all soothed, and 
 parted her from trouble, and made every day and hour 
 a healing medicine. They anived in the Gironde soon 
 enough to leave this impression in its perfection, and 
 before they were tired of being so happy; and quitting
 
 PAm FEKKOLL. 147 
 
 Bordeaux with deliberate haste, set off on a journey still 
 more south, avoiding all the rouglmesses of travelling 
 and enjojTJig the sun, the profusion of life, the progress 
 ■which was the natural occupation of the day, the halt, 
 and the rest, which there was no reason to abbreviate 
 or to avoid. Mrs. Fcri'oll got better and better; her 
 husband watched her daily improvement with heightened 
 spirits; his plan for her quite succeeded, and he enjoyed 
 the pleasure of success. He loved her the more vividly 
 for being so susceptible to his good influences. Janet, 
 too, was happy; she was very useful, very handy; very 
 strong in health, and active. When her mother rested 
 on a sofa at the hotel they stopped at in the evening, 
 Janet watched her father's face, to see if he would take 
 her with him on his walk; but she was accustomed to 
 be left behind, and did not complain even to herself, 
 though the evening sun glowed into the room, and she 
 longed to see the new world of a foreign country. Ten- 
 derly as Mrs. FeiToll loved her, she received Janet's 
 sacrifices as matters of course, and felt her rewarded 
 enough by thanks and kisses. Janet felt so too. 
 
 The country below Bordeaux presents but an un- 
 interesting aspect to the traveller. Isevcrtheless along 
 the coast, with the sea on one side, and the strange 
 aspects of sands, and bright masses of cultivation on the 
 other, there is enough to please cj'es which have already 
 enjoyed the essential glories of the world. They came 
 one morning to the small village of Pontaube, a fisliing 
 ■\dllage without any great trade, and which was a fa- 
 vourite retirement for men who had collected a little 
 money in the pro's'ince. There were several small, 
 prcttyish houses in the street, with figs, and vine trees 
 growing over them; and the inn was a new building of 
 
 10*
 
 148 PAUL FEKKOLL. 
 
 considerable pretension to be comfortable, built round a 
 small court, where, on a bench beside one of the walls, 
 sate the landladj' knitting stockings, and basking iir the 
 sun. Mi's. FeiToll and Janet went for breakfast upstairs; 
 but Mr. FerroU did not like the heat and the narrow- 
 ness of the room, and going down thought he would 
 drink liis coffee in the common room. But the common 
 room did not seem to be open to all; for when he went 
 in, and would have sate down towards the top of the 
 table, the waitress, a nice little fille^ remonstrated, ob- 
 serving, "Eut, sir, the gentlemen will be here soon." 
 
 Mr. FerroU submitted willingly, and went lower; but 
 when sitting down, he asked for some coffee, and aj)pro- 
 priated a small loaf of wlutc bread wliich lay at his 
 hand. The little waitress again interposed, "That roll 
 is for the gentlemen, sir, but I'll get you another. tSit 
 here, sir," she added, dusting and putting a chair still 
 lower down to entice him into it. Mr. Ferroll complied 
 again; and the gu-1, who seemed to have doubted of liis 
 tractabilitj', was pleased, and grew very tame herself, 
 and -nailing to express her surprise at the sight of an 
 Englishman, and at what he could do. He spoke French 
 remarkably well, but a few tones had betrayed that he 
 was not a Frenchman, and before she went for liis 
 coffee, the little waitress satisfied her curiosity by asking 
 a few questions. "You know France, do you, sir?" 
 said she. 
 
 "Yes, I've often been in France; but you have 
 found out, have you, that I am an Englishman?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, and besides your sei-vant told me, and 
 besides I heard you speaking English to liim. Bjioaking 
 EngKsh is very clever; we poor people could not do 
 that."
 
 tAUL FEBEOLL. 149 
 
 ;Mi\ Ferroll looked up and laughed; lie had a sheet 
 of paper before him, on -n-hich he -^as writing some me- 
 morandum, and it caught her eye. "Bo you write in 
 English, too, sir?" said she. 
 
 "Yes, I do." 
 
 "Is that possible?" said the gM, lifting and letting 
 fall her chin with a slight sigh, and going off to get the 
 coffee. "When she had brought it in, and while she 
 stood looking for some further opening to conversation, 
 a noise was heard in the outer room; and starting away, 
 she cried, "The gentlemen," and ran to open the door. 
 In they came, tln-ee in number; and it seemed that they 
 were habitual visitors, whose anival was the great event 
 of the day, and for whom all other guests were to be 
 thrown into the background. Mr. Ferroll observed and 
 listened, and by force of observation, and questions to 
 the maiden when she was unoccupied, found they were 
 the great men of Pontaube, who every day breakfasted 
 at ten, and dined at six, at the sign of the Pere PieiTot, 
 for the sum of four francs, wine included. One was 
 the inspector of weights and measures; another Jac- 
 queline called the Lawyer; and the third was the doctor. 
 They sat down as to a pleasant occasion, each man drew 
 out his napkin from its ring, and prepared liimself for 
 the breakfast of the morning. This day it consisted fu'st 
 of a dish of cow-heel, and they ate all that; then they 
 had stewed mutton, and they ate all that. Then came 
 in the glout morccau, a roasted chicken; and upon the 
 appearance of this dish, the mistress of the inn herself 
 entered, and sat down to cut it up. She took her place, 
 and her share in conversation, as if the woman must be 
 the first person in tlie society of men, though when she 
 hud dissected the clucken, she ate only bread and butter
 
 150 PAUL FEREOLt. 
 
 herself, while they proceeded in their more substantial 
 breakfast. 
 
 "You'll believe me another time, Mr. Beuthe," she 
 said to tbe lawyer; "Dreus is really appointed agent at 
 Bordeaux, is he not?" 
 
 "Well, but I don't know even now that he is," said 
 Beuthe. 
 
 "Madame Filejean is perfectly right, as she always 
 is," said Lahrotte, the doctor. "I myself believe Dreux 
 is agent at Bordeaux." 
 
 "He did not know it last night," said the un- 
 believer. 
 
 "Perhaps not; but this morning," said the lady. 
 
 "Ha! you have it from himself!" said Beuthe, 
 spreading his arms, and bowing. 
 
 "Perhaps I have." 
 
 "Well, that will console him for the barrel," said 
 the inspector. "It was spilled, every drop." 
 
 "No, they caught it just falling," said the lawyer. 
 
 "Who caught it — who could catch a barrel full of 
 wine?" 
 
 "Why Louis himself. He was behind the cart, and 
 saw the board cracking." 
 
 "Please to forgive me, gentlemen," said the little 
 waitress, whose back bent backwards, and whose arm 
 stretched over dirty plates which she was carrying out. 
 "I was passing, I saw it: the great beast of a horse saw 
 Madame Lere's new bucket at the door, and he snorted 
 so, and sprang so, all on one side; and the cart jumped 
 over the large stone in the road; there, you know it, 
 gentlemen; and so the poor barrel fell with all its 
 weight upon the board of the cart, and broke the board, 
 with such a crack! and down it came — ■ down!"
 
 PArL FEKEOH. 151 
 
 "Take care -what you are about, Jacqueline," cried 
 Madame Filejean — "the plates, eliild!" 
 
 "Brava, JaccjueHne! -svell told," said the doctor. "Get 
 along, my little girl." And the girl laughed softly, and 
 went on her errands. 
 
 Mr. FeiToll was amused with tliis little scene out 
 of the life of Pontaubc; and when "the gentlemen" 
 had finished their meal, rose also; and attaching himself 
 to the doctor, resolved on making acquaintance. 
 
 "Is it possible, sir," said the doctor, "that you and 
 your lady should be travelling for curiosity in the Landes. 
 There's not much to see." 
 
 "We are travelling for health more than anything 
 else," said Mi*. FeiToll. "My wife has gone through 
 great excitement; and a quiet alteration of scene, where 
 there is something new, and no trouble, seems to be the 
 best thing for her." 
 
 "This is the very place for her then," said the 
 doctor. "I felt it myself in 1813. I had really been 
 too much interested." 
 
 "What, yon were really one of the fortunate men 
 who came safer" 
 
 "iJsot I only, but my horse too. He went through 
 the whole campaign, and died in his stable five years 
 after," said tlie doctor. "Oh, after all, matters look 
 worse in a book than in reality. Here I am, as young 
 as I was then nearly, some good picldngs in the bank 
 yonder; and I have built that houselet there, which I 
 shall have great pleasure in showing to you, sir." 
 
 Mr. FciToll bowed too; and after he had admu'cd all 
 that was to be seen in the doctoi-'s house, went on to 
 walk with him about the little town. The doctor was 
 a widower; he had a son at college, who came home but
 
 152 PAtJL FEEEOLL. 
 
 seldom. One oldish man composed liis -wliole household, 
 cherished liis carnations, fed his horse, made liis bed, 
 mended his stockings, played at ecarte with him on a 
 Sunday moruuig, and kept liis floors bright and slippery, 
 by skating about them with brushes under his shoes. 
 The doctor was the busy spuit of the town. He had 
 nearly ceased to practise his profession; but he was very 
 active in promoting everything that he thought good for 
 the communitj'; and for the most part the tilings were 
 good which he judged to be so. 
 
 .Pontaube is a fishing village, with a bad harbour, 
 rendered better by a long breakwater, used as a pier, up 
 to the level of which, and often over it, comes the rude 
 water of Biscay, while at low tide it leaves the vessels 
 stranded at its side. The construction of this breakwater 
 was due to the exertions of M. Lahrotte, and he took 
 Mr. FeiToll with pride and pleasure to see it. It took 
 an angle about the middle of its length, the better to 
 shelter the port, and in that point some steep steps went 
 down five-and-twenty or thirty feet to the sea. Workmen 
 were doing some repairs there at the time — they were 
 putting a very low edge to the wall, to prevent the 
 falling over of goods laid upon the pier; but it was ne- 
 cessarily low on account of the violence of the sea, 
 which would have torn away anything it could have 
 laid hold of. M. Lahrotte paused here to show his guest 
 the skill of the an-angement, and to hold a little argu- 
 ment with the workmen; and while he did so, Mr. 
 reiToll's attention Avas caiight by the scene wliich this 
 spot commanded, and wliich was beautiful, though the 
 means to make it beautiful were so small. The tide was 
 swelling in, the hot sun glancing deep into the water, 
 and filling it with light. A few boats floated, a few 
 
 i
 
 PAUL FEREOLL. 153 
 
 boats were stranded on the shore; the buildings of the 
 town gi'ouped themselyes round the spire of the church; 
 red dresses here and there gave their si)ot of bright 
 colour; there was a fig-tree in deepest green against a 
 grey wall; among the sand were long j-ellow, mixed 
 with green, rushes. The air stiiTod a little from the 
 west, and breathed a few moments' coobiess from across 
 the water. M. Lahi-otte took off his hat, and wiped 
 liis head. 
 
 ''Ha, this is a delicious place," said he. 
 
 "You've a deep sense of the good of life," said Mr. 
 Ferroll; "and I congi-atulate you on it." 
 
 He returned to the inn, pleased as with a Dutch 
 picture; -and when the evening cooled, took Elinor and 
 Janet to look at the things which had given him plea- 
 sure; but when the sun had set, the chann was gone. 
 It was a lorn and pale scene, and Mrs. Fen'oU, though 
 willing to see its merit, could find no epithet except 
 "very melancholy." 
 
 "iJo you tliink so?" said Mr. FeiToll; "then we 
 won't stay here. AVe '11 order horses for to-morrow 
 morning — and so let's go back to the ion, for it is 
 getting late." 
 
 He accompanied them on their return, and took a 
 book to read to his wife; but his attention was not fixed 
 as usual; he laid it down now and then, and talked of 
 things foreign to the subject of the book — he was 
 tliinking of the ban-el of wine that burst, and of the 
 servant of M. Lahrotte; then the great Atlantic rose 
 T)efore him, and his mind's eye went across to the con- 
 tinent wliich was now opposite to him, witli nothing 
 iutci7)0sing. Ho asked his wife if she would like to go 
 to Halifax. She asked liim what made his thoughts so
 
 154 PAUL rERKOLL. 
 
 restless. He did not know; he said it seemed to him as 
 if there were a tempest approaching across the vast 
 ocean — or else there was a moral tempest somewhere 
 — presages of real storms, or their ghosts, were passing 
 about; and he laughed at himself for the impression; 
 and wlicn she prepared to go to rest, said he would 
 walk out into the night air, and try to get rid of the 
 feelings. He did so, and went out to the little pier, 
 wliich now lay in solitude, jetting out into the advancing 
 tide. The waves rushed against it, and dashing up 
 in a sudden influx of water, were broken with loud 
 murmur, and then seething back, grated over the shingles, 
 and left a dry space again. The moon was hanging just 
 on the edge of the horizon, with a brassy dim light, 
 which was reflected over the water, but which grew 
 dimmer and dimmer as the disc of the moon sank, and 
 left the heavens and the earth by degrees in the shadow 
 of a summer's night. 
 
 Mr. Ferroll walked on musing; his thoughts were 
 full of past scenes, and of scenes which might yet come 
 to pass. Spectres of pain and part pleasure passed 
 before him — of things to lose, and of the time when they 
 should be lost. He came to the part of the pier where 
 it made an angle, and where the rude steps went down 
 to the beach — but he had forgotten all; his foot struck 
 against the low parapet which the workmen had been 
 labouriag at. He made a forward step to recover his 
 balance, and fell sheer down the wall upon the stones 
 below. His consciousness was not gone; he had not 
 fainted; he was not stunned. He struggled up, but fell 
 again instantly; his legs bore no weight whatever. "What, 
 were they numbed? Yes, numbed surely — try again. 
 No; no weight whatever, and the horrible pain. Are
 
 PAUL FEEEOLL. 155 
 
 they broken? Xever, never — yes, that is the horrible 
 truth — broken — helpless. 
 
 "Am I what I was one miaute ago?" he thought. 
 ""What pain; it grows to agony — help, help, I say! 
 and the water coming on to suck me iu, to come and 
 go, come and go over me till I die. I won't die so — 
 poor EUnor!" 
 
 He tried to move; those free limbs a minute ago 
 were now useless and agonising logs, tied to the living 
 will; but the sti'ong Avill moved them, he grasped the 
 stone and earth with his hands, -and dragged himself to 
 the steps, which were just to be seen in the darkness. 
 On the lowest he sate, and gnawed his lip for pain. 
 The water was half way to his knees, and the swell of 
 the next wave rose as high as his breast. He set his 
 hands firmly on the step, and raised himself one more. 
 The crushed limbs were dragged after him by the torn 
 flesh and ligament. One knee was useful still, and 
 setting that and his hands to work, he foimd out how to 
 cUmb the dreadful steps, and neither daring nor desiiing 
 to paiLse, mounted to the veiy top by one well-sustained 
 effort of his will. He had six- and -twenty steps from 
 top to bottom to surmount. He could hardly have 
 climbed much quicker with his free limbs, than he did 
 in tliis ecstasy of agony; but once there, and once 
 ha\ing paused, nature refused to make another effort. 
 The nerves had sunk from their tension, and what they 
 had just accomplished seemed incredible. 
 
 But while he lay thus, and he had lain probablj^ a 
 quarter of an hour, a sound stioiek his ear of human 
 voices, and he recognised the plashing of a boat ap- 
 proaching the pier; then hope gave lum life again, and
 
 156 PAUL FEHEOLL. 
 
 lie called loudly. The instant stilbiess showed that his 
 •\'oice had alarmed those who were ajiproaching, he thought 
 to hear them in another moment push off from the j)ier, 
 and leave him to his fate. He called again, "I'm an 
 Englishman badly wounded. I '11 give j'ou twenty livres 
 at the Pure Pierrot, to cany me there;" for, thought he, 
 they are likely enough to make an end of me, if they 
 think I have money about me, or if I offer too much. 
 He repeated the offer eagerly, as the silence lasted, and 
 as none answered him. Again and again he repeated 
 it; but there was a perfect silence; and strung up as his 
 car was to every faintest sound, he heard nothing — no 
 dci)arting, no mo\"ing, no stirring of the boat — and yet 
 he Avas plainly alone again. 
 
 "Can this last till morning?" he thought, and made 
 an effoi-t to move again; but it was, or seemed to have 
 become impossible. He saw thfe lights of the town, at 
 a distance which seemed to him beyond hope. He was 
 groA^ing cold and faint, still he stretched and held alive 
 liis faculties, and did not lose them, because he would 
 not. * He had lain there he knew not how long, 
 when he thought he heard, and soon was certain, that 
 he heard a girlish voice sobbing. He lay still, and 
 it approached. He feared to frighten it away; as it 
 came nearer he ventured to speak. "My little friend, 
 come here." 
 
 Instantly the voice was quite still. 
 
 "I am hurt; I beg you to come and help me." 
 
 "Papa," said the trembling voice; "pray don't be 
 angry." 
 
 "Janet!" he exclaimed; and Janet was at his side. 
 
 * Scott's Journal.
 
 PAUL FEKEOLL. 
 
 157 
 
 "What's the matter? Why do you lie there. Are 
 you hurt? Oh, what's the matter?" 
 
 "xire you alone?" he asked. 
 •■' "Yes; I got softly away, for the landlord said there 
 Avere dangerous places; but mamma did not think you 
 would lilce to be looked for; but I could not stay then. 
 Papa, papa, what is the matter?" 
 
 "I have broken mj' bones, and am likely enough 
 to die, Jcannie, unless you have saved my life indeed, 
 by coming to look for me. Good Jcannie, now mind 
 what I say. Don't ciy — run back and call up Capcl, 
 without letting your mother know anything about 
 it. Send liim here instantly, and tell liim to bring 
 M. Lahrottc, the surgeon. Then go to your mother, 
 and say I have broken my leg, neither more nor less, 
 just thosp words, and that Capel told you, and you 
 know nothing more about it. Make no fuss in the 
 hotel. Tell Capel to say nothing till he is out of the 
 house, and then to call and send as many people as 
 he pleases. Janet, Idss me. I love your mother — run, 
 but take care." 
 
 She obeyed him implicitly; and again he was alone, 
 lielpless, defenceless, he who that very niglit had been 
 independent, and aloof from the world. "I have often 
 thought to die, but never of this," he said; and the 
 nervous feelings of the weak assailed, if they did not 
 conquer, liim. A shudder came over him at the idea 
 of the boat he had heard approacliing, and which lie 
 liad never lieard go away. He more than once fancied 
 footsteps stealing near liim, and which the Annd partly 
 concealed. lie imagined the blow of the assailant with 
 liorror, though an hour ago he would have thought of it 
 with scorn.
 
 158 TAUL PEEEOLL. 
 
 In an incredibly short time (and Mr. Ferroll was 
 just, and knew how short it was, though it seemed so 
 long), his ser^-ant arrived ^yith help, and he was lifted 
 upon a sti'etcher and conveyed towards the toAvn. 
 M. Lahrotte met him on the way, his breeches knees 
 unbuttoned, his dressing-gown floating far on the air 
 behuid. He asked no questions, just felt the pulse, and 
 ordered the bearer to liis own house, which was near 
 at hand. Mr. FerroU said nothing and was laid upon 
 the floor in the surgeon's room, and the apparatus of 
 the severely healing art quickly prepared. 
 
 "I must write fii'st," he said, raising himself on his 
 elbow; "or rather you may begin while I write. Capel, 
 pen and paper;" and Capel obeyed his master, though 
 the surgeon imperiously forbade him. 
 
 "My Elinoe," he wrote, "I am hurt, but in good 
 hands. Come to me, dearest, when I am settled for 
 the night: and don't come till I send. You see my 
 hand does not shake, so believe that I am neither too 
 much hurt, nor in too much pain. 
 
 "Your husband, 
 
 "Paul Feeeoll." 
 
 And, in fact, he controlled his hand to form the 
 letters as usual, though the convulsions of pain involun- 
 tarily wrung his frame at intervals. 
 
 "At last; have you done?" cried Lahrotte, very angry 
 at the delay. "Thank you — now for it." 
 
 The fractures were terrible; one knee crushed, the 
 bone of the other leg sticking through the skin. 
 
 "Can you save the leg?" said Mr. Ferroll. 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Lahrotte.
 
 PAUL FEBKOLL. 159 
 
 "Well, don't cut it off without giving me the choice," 
 said Mr. Ferroll. 
 
 The sldlful surgeon performed his part with dexterity. 
 The quiveiing machine was pieced again, the broken 
 frame put together like some frail fine china, and as far 
 as the siu-geon was concerned, all independently of the 
 agony which the living subject went through. He was 
 placed, in bed, and sent for Elinor; when she came, all 
 the apparatus of pain had been removed; and though 
 he told her the whole truth, he told it vrith. her hand 
 so tenderly held in his, and it was his own li\-ing voice 
 that spoke in such fond and soothing accents, that she 
 went through the shock without succumbing to it, with- 
 out the frail frame he had been so anxiously nursing, 
 losing all the strength it had so recently gained. 
 
 The first few days were days of extreme distress. 
 The surgeon could not tell whether the limb most injured 
 must be amputated or not, and Mr. Ferroll knew as well 
 as he what were his doubts. His frame had received 
 so great a shock, that his strong nerves still vibrated, 
 like bells in the gale of a tempest. The ideas withiii 
 his mind got shape and sound like the vibrations hidden 
 in the bell. "I liave thought to die often," he repeated 
 to himself, half aloud, "but never, never thought of 
 this." 
 
 This was the thought that haunted liim awake; when 
 he slept, or approached to sleeping, the impressions of 
 tlie di-eadfiil minutes when he lay helpless on the pier, 
 were uppennost. The boat tliat had approached, and 
 whose retreat he had never heard, was a spectre to him ; 
 Ihe impression of foes coming from that mysterious boat 
 to kill iiim, defenceless, brooded over him. Janet was 
 the person who had interfered between the darkness and
 
 160 PAUL TEKKOLL. 
 
 liim, whose living real voice he had heard; and she it 
 was whom he now involuntarily associated witli relief. 
 
 "Janet," he would say sometimes, rousing from his 
 troubled sleep, and if she were there to answer liim, liis 
 thoughts and feeHngs resumed more easily their natural 
 channel, so that she found her presence was really useful, 
 and no exertion on her part was so much as thought of 
 in comparison with that pleasure, night and day she was 
 by his bedside; ho was so important an object in the 
 eyes of all, that her interest quite vanished from their 
 sight, and she was allowed to tax her strength to the 
 utmost. Mrs. Ferroll, who had but so lately revived 
 from excessive exertion of her nerves, resisted in vain 
 this new attack. She had no strength to use, and she 
 sank under her own efforts to put some forth. The 
 doubt, the fear, how so violent a shock might work 
 upon her husband's life, the consciousness that any hour 
 might develop an unfavourable change, overpowered her. 
 "When near him, it was impossible for her to prevent the 
 big tears from following one another down her cheek; 
 and she had no voice to answer the tender anxious words 
 which she knew might be the very last she should ever 
 hear. Janet would have comforted her, but had nothing 
 but caresses to offer, and of these she was prodigal; 
 coming at the intervals when she was dismissed from 
 her father's room, to comfort her mother, and as active 
 and diligent in rendering her such service as might 
 make the outside of life easy, as in soothing and sharing 
 the soiTOw within. 
 
 This helpfulness of Janet's greatly took the fancy of 
 the doctor. He rejoiced in seeing her always at hand, 
 always able to do any service, however disagreeable; 
 always neat, always pretty. The doctor was seldom
 
 PAUL FEBEOLI. 161 
 
 without a project; aud it came iuto liis head that he 
 might make a match between liis son and his patient's 
 daughter, much to the advantage of the former. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," said he to Capel, Mr. Ferroll's 
 servant, "is a very serviceable young lady; I dare say 
 she has money also?" 
 
 But Capel was an English, not a French servant, and 
 far from confidential. "Yes, sir." 
 
 "How many brothers has she, pray?" asked 
 M. Lahrotte. 
 
 "None, sir." 
 
 "An only daughter?" 
 
 Capel did not answer at all, only went on rubbing 
 the table bright. 
 
 "By your laws," said Lahrotte musingly, "does 
 the daughter or the proprietor's brother succeed to the 
 fortune?" 
 
 "Can't tell, indeed, sir." 
 
 "Mr. Ferroll has brothers?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "And plainly he is rich? You send to Bordeaux, 
 Mr. Capel, regardless of expense, whenever your master 
 takes the smallest fancy, or whenever I so much as 
 suggest something that may be useful." 
 
 "Yes, SU-." 
 
 "Where is Mr. Fcrroll's home pray, when he is at 
 home?" 
 
 "The Tower, sir." 
 
 "The Tower? oh, yes, I know where the Tower is. 
 Your master is guardian of the Tower is he, where you 
 keep traitors, and cut off their heads?" 
 
 Capel rcsoilcd to silence, not understanding the flight 
 M. Lahrotte's imagination hud taken. 
 Paul Ferroll. . H
 
 162 PAUL FERKOLI,. 
 
 "Has Mr. FerroU anything to do in their trials 
 then?" asked Lahrotte. 
 
 "No, sii-." 
 
 "But he takes pleasure, perhaps, in seeing that kind 
 of spectacle?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Does mademoiselle see them also?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Do you see them pray, Mr. Capel?" 
 
 "What, sir?" 
 
 "The heads cut off?" 
 
 "No, sii'." 
 
 "And pray what brought a guardian of your famous 
 Tower to this remote part — an English whim?" 
 
 "No, sir, the packet-boat." 
 
 "Ha, ha," quietly laughed Lahrotte to himself, 
 "how thick he is. But I mean, was the money spent a 
 little too fast in England, and so was it ! useful, per- 
 haps, to come where money goes a great way, where 
 lodging is two francs instead of two English pounds?" 
 
 "I don't know the charges, sir." 
 
 "But Mr. Fen-oU does." 
 
 "Don't know, sir." 
 
 M. Lahrotte shrugged his shoulders, and could not 
 imderstand him; but he felt certain the Ferrolls were 
 rich — rich at least for the Landes, and yet, perhaps, 
 embarrassed a little, and not unwilling to leave their 
 handy little English gui in a house which would become 
 her own, when he, an old man, should die. He wrote, 
 therefore, to his son to leave his college for the next 
 three months, and to take up his residence for the time 
 under the paternal roof — a summons young Cesar Lah- 
 rotte was willing enough to comply with. He was very
 
 PAin feueoij:.. 163 
 
 little like his Roman namesake; to hear them call Cesar, 
 and to see this long-haired quiet lad approach, one could 
 not but think at first of the fate the same sound may go 
 through in the world. To have belonged to the man at 
 whom the world grew pale, and now to belong to the 
 lad who grew pale at everybody in the world. And yet 
 young Lahrotte was merely simple, not a fool. In book- 
 learning he was very much advanced; and having been 
 extremely well taught at school, he was ia a fair way 
 to be ready for any mode of earning his bread which his 
 father should fix upon. 
 
 M. Lahrotte introduced him to the sick bed of Mr. 
 Ferroll, and was anxious to show him off to the greatest 
 advantage both before the father and daughter. But the 
 young man sat with his hands crossed on his knee, his 
 head on one side, and his mouth a little open, answering 
 all that Janet tried to say to him before she had finished, 
 and before he could have understood her, with an "Oh, 
 yes, mademoiselle," which thoroughly disheartened her 
 in her attempts. 3Ir. FexToU was rather amused than 
 othei-wise by the emban-assment both of his daughter 
 and his guest; and he perceived that the young man felt 
 relieved whenever he himself addressed some question 
 to him on the subject of his education; and it occun-ed 
 to him to turn Cesar to account, by making him a reader 
 of such books as Janet could not undertake. Before the 
 end of his first visit, therefore, he had put a Latia 
 author into lus hand, and before the end of the reading 
 was pleased with him, for he read with understanding, 
 and gave the hearer the satisfaction of going along both 
 with the author and the reader. 
 
 "Come again, will you," he said, "to-morrow? I 
 can't manage that book comfortably in my present posi- 
 
 11*
 
 164 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 tion, and your reading is very useful to me." So young 
 Cesar was sent by liis father every morning, whether he 
 wanted to go angling in the river, or catching crabs on 
 the shore, and sometimes wished he need not have gone 
 to read; but it did not occur to Mr. FeiToll to inquire 
 whether it suited Cesar or not. The father and son came 
 to an understanding on the matter. "Persevere, my 
 dear," said M. Lahrotte; "Mr. Ferroll is very rich, and 
 \erj proud; he will not like to be under obligation to 
 anybody, and he will make you a present, or he will 
 advance you to some good place." 
 
 "Yes, father." 
 
 "Does the reading go much against you, Cesar?" 
 
 "No, I am sometimes interested in it; but this morn- 
 ing I was just in the midst of a shoal of little fish, when 
 the tide was leaving." 
 
 "That is rather childish for a boy of your age," said 
 the father, frowning. "You are of an age to think of 
 better things; you might even keep house yourself if you 
 had a wife." Cesar laughed. 
 
 "Why not, Cesar? I have sometimes thought that 
 the little FeiToll might be a match for you; she has 
 money, and she has certainly beauty." 
 
 Cesar looked at his father, doubting if such could 
 really be his meaning; and when he saw no symptoms 
 of the contrary, the idea fell upon him, as if some one 
 had proposed that he should have been king of France, 
 or bishop of the diocese. 
 
 "Miss Ferroll, father! yes, she is rich, and she's 
 beautiful, that's very certain. Why, of course, she is 
 to marry an English milord, not me — me who am at 
 school, me whom she sees come in and out like the 
 Httle dog."
 
 PATJL FEEEOLL. 165 
 
 "In what way do you mean?" 
 
 "Oh, I am a little dog to her." 
 
 "Don't be too sure of that, my boy — rich as these 
 people seem, there's no doubt they must be embarrassed 
 for money, or they would not be here. Mr. Ferroll's 
 appointments in the Tower of London are, I doubt not, 
 great, but possibly the chief part may die with him, and 
 then, though I lirmly believe he leaves considerable 
 sums beliind him — for he has never felt any anxiety 
 about his wife , and daughter , while iu liis present 
 danger — then I say, a husband ready provided for the 
 pretty young girl may not be without attraction for the 
 prudent father. And you, Cesar, don't think too little 
 of yourself; you are your father's only child, and your 
 father has not spent his long life in vain. This little 
 property of oui's, this jewel of a house, and three fields, 
 let us say they are worth twelve thousands francs; in 
 the bourse at Paris let us say there are six thousand 
 more — my pension, you know, is two thousand; enough 
 to live upon certainly, so that much of what is besides, 
 multiplies and accumulates, and when I die, Cesar, all 
 this is yours — you hear me, my son." 
 
 Cesar heard with all the enjoyment which the sudden 
 possession of a new sense coidd give. To see himself in 
 the light of a rich man, of a good match, as a man to 
 be somewhat esteemed on account of his expectations, 
 was as delightful, as it had been liitherto by the prudent 
 reserve of his father a secret to him. He had been 
 taught that he must depend upon his own exertions, and 
 that his hard work at school was essential to the future 
 support of his life; and, indeed, nothing but the neces- 
 sity of raising his self-esteem to the point of aspuing to 
 Janet could have induced his father to reveal, and even
 
 166 PAUL FEEKOIL. 
 
 exaggerate, those possessions wliich would one day 
 descend from his own hands to those of the young 
 Lahrotte. 
 
 But it was with less confidence that he approached 
 the suhject with Mr. Feri'oU; for however plausible the 
 scheme seemed when he had it all his own way in his 
 own head, it lost some of its appearance of ease, when 
 it came to be submitted to a less prejudiced eye. Lah- 
 rotte was sitting by the bed-side of his patient, and to- 
 day he had not taken any pains to present the case in 
 its most favourable point of view; not that he said 
 anj^hing to give alarm, but he insensibly, nay uncon- 
 sciously to himself, let the conversation take rather a sad 
 tone, feeling that the project he had to propose was 
 rather a remedy in case of evil than a positive good. 
 "In my old age," he said, "I am quite contented indeed 
 to be at rest. I would not be young again, sir, I would 
 not be what I was , when I expected to die field-marshal, 
 nay, king if you will, even if all those expectations 
 might be fuMled." 
 
 "You are like a man in sight of the inn for the 
 night, and glad of it, though it be not quite the grand 
 resting place you expected." 
 
 "Exactly, sir; I have seen too much of the discon- 
 tentment that goes with the attainment of the highest 
 wishes — men who get what they have always wanted, 
 want more — it is best to get some good thing one did 
 not want, though it be less than the good one first pro- 
 posed to get." 
 
 "Let me see," said Mr. Fen'oll, smiling; "if you had 
 been made field-marshal you would have been discon- 
 tented, you would have wished to become the emperor;
 
 PAUL FEEKOLL. 167 
 
 but you are pleased at being the first gentleman in 
 Pontaube, because to be so, never entered your head." 
 
 "And at having a son of whom I may be justly 
 proud." 
 
 "Aye; your son — domestic affections take the place 
 of ambition." 
 
 "Tet ambition is not extinct since it has an object 
 in my son; I don't say I look for any wonderful eleva- 
 tion for biTTi — he is my only treasure, I am old, and 
 wish to see him settled near me. My means are, and 
 will be, his means; and to see him marry a lady whom 
 his heart and my reason should approve, would be the 
 summit, I confess, of my desires." 
 
 "Marry! oh, you take that line for him? what, has 
 he fallen in love? no, no; I understand now, you have 
 cast your eyes on Jeannie for him." 
 
 M. Lahrotte coughed and took a pinch of snuff — 
 the unveiling of his project was rather abrupt. Mr. Fer- 
 roll was silent, and he was obliged to say something. 
 "Miss Ferroll, sir, is a lady " 
 
 "A child rather," said her father, "about whom no 
 doubt her mother has formed many ambitious designs; 
 but not I. Your idea is not a bad one; it is new to 
 me, that is all; but it strikes me, as having advan- 
 tages. " 
 
 "K you knew my son as I do " said Lahrotte. 
 
 "Of course — of course." 
 
 "K you knew the state of my affairs " 
 
 "Yes; and if you knew mine." Lahrotte looked a 
 little anxious. 
 
 "As for money," said Mr. FeiToU, after a moment 
 or two, "there would be plenty; in this cheap country 
 they would be lords."
 
 168 PAUL FERROLL, 
 
 "Then 3^ou would not consider it indispensable that 
 she should marry in England?" 
 
 "By no means whatever." 
 
 "And without great wealth, an honest competence 
 might, without presumption, be offered her?" 
 
 "Oh yes, an honest competence would do very well, 
 considering what besides her own would be." 
 
 "And to my son, sir, you see no objection?" 
 
 "Not I; but it is not I who shall marry him." 
 
 " So young a lady " 
 
 "Oh, but young ladies have their own wills in Eng- 
 land; I don't answer anything for Jeamiie; myself only 
 I can speak about; and as far as I know, on so sudden 
 a view of the matter, there are advantages in it." 
 
 Lalirotte was sui'prised as much as he was pleased 
 by this reception of his hint; indeed, the hint had been 
 converted into a positive proposal, a thing which he had 
 not anticipated, but at which he was much delighted. 
 He told his son what had passed, and Cesar was less 
 surprised than he was; for ever since the conversation in 
 which his father had revealed his undreamed of expecta- 
 tions, his thoughts had been running more xipon his own 
 unexpected importance than on the merits of anybody 
 else. 
 
 When he saw Janet again, he meant to wear the air 
 of a prosperous lover, but in her total unconsciousness 
 of his pretensions, she treated him with such quiet 
 superiority, and seemed so entirely uninterested in what 
 became of him, that his success was bounded by his 
 own meditations; and he sometimes pursued these triumph- 
 antly with an imaginary Janet, while the real Janet by 
 liis side was the last person to whom he would have 
 dared address anything aloud beyond the ordinary forms
 
 PATH FEBEOLL. 169 
 
 of conversation. It stai-tled him occasionally from the 
 most agreeable day-dreams to have her fmd something to 
 say to him; and the habitual "Oh, yes, mademoiselle," 
 with wliich he answered her, was quickly said and 
 quickly forgotten, to pursue his own dream, of a parlour 
 belonging to himself in the paternal house, with a rich 
 wife sitting opposite to him sewing. 
 
 Lahrotte thought it would promote courtship to send 
 Miss Ferroll out walking with Cesar, and to do her 
 good, as he explained it to her mother, he presciibed an 
 early walk every morning by the sea-side, and Cesar 
 was then to protect her from the dogs or boys of the 
 town. Mrs. Ferroll had no objection, Cesar being Ln her 
 eyes, very much on a level with the dogs and boys; and 
 Mr. Fcrroll laughed and asked Janet if it was not good- 
 natured in the young man to be found regularly, thus 
 early at her service. Janet sometimes walked and 
 sometimes stayed at home; and gave herself a good deal 
 of trouble, to find subjects on which Cesar could say 
 anything. "Are you obliged to be up very early at your 
 pension, Mr. Cesar?" 
 
 "Very early," said Cesar. 
 
 "At what o'clock?" 
 
 "Five, or half-past, mademoiselle." 
 
 "Do 3-0U like being up so early, Mr. Cesar?" 
 
 "I don't mind it, mademoiselle." 
 
 "Do all the scholars get up equally early?" 
 
 "All, mademoiselle." 
 
 Early rising was pretty well exhausted, and they 
 walked on in silence. " The steamboat is come in I sup- 
 pose," said Janet, observing a few people advancing 
 from the pier, bearing parcels, or a hamper, and one 
 man walking along with an umbrella in his hand.
 
 170 PAUL FEBEOLL. 
 
 ''Yes," said Ct'sar; "the tide is liigh at seven tMs 
 morning; they could come alongside the pier early." 
 
 "Yes, so they could," said Janet. At that moment 
 she stopped walking altogether, and Cesar got ahead of 
 her without observing it; then turned round to see what 
 had become of her, and Janet ran by him, and up to 
 the man waUdng with an umbrella, saying eagerly, 
 "Oh, Hugh, what is it you really? How are you? how 
 are you?" 
 
 "How d'ye do, Janet?" said yoimg Bartlett, for it 
 was himself. "I heard all about Mr. FerroU, so I came 
 over to see him. How is he?" 
 
 "Oh, papa is so much better; and it is very good- 
 natured of you indeed. I am very glad to see you." 
 
 "Is heV 
 
 "Is he what?" 
 
 "Glad?" 
 
 "Oh, he wiU be of course, when he knows you are 
 come. Are you tired, Hugh? When did you set out?" 
 
 "Not tired, certainly; but very dusty you see. Can 
 I have a room somewhere, do you think, Janet?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; there's an inn close by us. "We are at 
 
 Monsieur Lahrotte's Oh, dear That is Mr. 
 
 Cesar Lahrotte — Mr. Bartlett," introducing them. "We 
 are at Mr. Cesar Lahrotte's father's, who has been ex- 
 tremely clever, and most kind about poor papa." 
 
 "Perhaps all this will make you come back sooner — 
 won't it?" said Hugh, walking slowly away by Janet's 
 side, and both of them quite forgetting Cesar, who stood 
 looking at them a little while, and then went to search 
 for crabs in the ebb of the tide.
 
 I-:*" 
 
 PAUL FEKKOLL. 171 
 
 "Perhaps; papa can't travel you know, so we might 
 as well, and better, come back and be qmet at the 
 Tower." 
 
 "You'd be sorry not to go into Spain and Italy?" 
 
 "No, indeed; I don't think I like travelling very 
 much. I thought I should have liked it better." 
 
 "Indeed; indeed, Janet? Why don't you like it: 
 
 "I can't tell hardly. I often think of the Tower, 
 and how cool it must be, and how the flowers are 
 coming out, with nobody to look at them." 
 
 "That they don't exactly, for there's hardly a day 
 biit what I find myself in your garden." 
 
 "Well, but even you are away now." 
 
 "You'd be glad if the floioers could come to 
 
 you?" 
 
 "Not so glad as to see you," said Janet. "I'm very 
 
 glad to see you." 
 
 So she was • — so was Mrs. FerroU. A familiar face 
 in the monotonous place, a friendly action performed in 
 their favour, a friend come from so far on account of 
 the interest he felt in them, was very acceptable to 
 these female hearts. Less impression seemed to be made 
 on Mr. FerroU. ^Ticn he heard of Hugh Bartlett's ar- 
 rival, he said, "Pshaw! what unnecessary trouble;" and 
 though he received liim courteously, there was some- 
 thing in his manner which threw back any self-confidence 
 or hope to please, which there might be in the young 
 man's feelings. "You are gomg to see the world, arc 
 you?" said he. "Do you propose crossing the Pyrenees, 
 or going by sea?" 
 
 "I have not exactly thought," said Hugh, embar- 
 rassed, for he had no object in the world except to see 
 Janet, and Janet's father.
 
 172 PAUL FEEBOLL. 
 
 "You had better go over the mountains then, and 
 get to the east coast of Spain. There is very fine coun- 
 try to be seen." 
 
 "I hope you will be better soon," said Hugh. 
 
 "I? oh, yes, in time. We shall go back home when 
 I can move." 
 
 "I should be glad if I could be of any use to you." 
 
 "Oh, thank you, thank you; don't you trouble your- 
 self about us. "We shall aU do very well." 
 
 "Without me?" said Hugh; "yes, I know you will — 
 but / can't " 
 
 "And then," said Mr. FerroU, interrupting him, "I 
 advise you to go on into the East. It will be a good 
 thing for you to travel a little, as you don't intend to 
 stay any longer at Oxford." 
 
 "I have no thought of travelling," said the young 
 man, doggedly. 
 
 "Well, I would if I were you; but even to do as 
 much as you are doing is good. You must go into the 
 Pyrenees at all events; and before you go, I will look 
 over some books I have, for an excellent guide to the 
 Mountains. I am afraid I can't do it to-day; but perhaps 
 you are not in such haste as that." 
 
 Hugh answered nothing at all. It made his heart go 
 backward to hear the plans of Mri Ferroll for his de- 
 parture from among them, and for a totally separate in- 
 terest, which he and Janet were to pursue. He and 
 Janet! who he thought ought to have but one path in 
 life. "And why not?" he repeated to himself. "If I 
 could gain her love, where am I so greatly deficient? 
 I have done no great wrong in the world. I am young; 
 but I shall mend of that. I have got an estate, which 
 is not anything very wonderful to be sure — I don't
 
 PAXIL FEEEOLL. 173 
 
 mean it is; but it would make my Janet comfortable. 
 I wisli I knew more history, and Greek, and chronology; 
 but then she never seems to care whether I do or not; 
 but I suppose that must be what Mr. FerroU means. 
 I do wish I had read more," continued he, and he took 
 up a book which lay on the table — a histoiy of 
 Rodriguez, King of Spain. He read a jDage and a -half, 
 asked himself whether the Moors were still in Spain — 
 forgot to answer — thought of Janet's light activity in 
 cUmbing the rocks, and walked out to the pier, where 
 he meditated while he made ducks and drakes in the 
 water. 
 
 "That yoimg fellow," said Mr. Fen-oU, to his wife, 
 as she sate by his bedside, "has got some fancy about 
 Janet into his head — ridiculous!" 
 
 "Poor boy — ridiculous!" said Mrs. FerroU; for such 
 was the accepted mode of treating the subject. 
 
 "When does he go away?" said Mr. FerroU. "You 
 must hasten him — will you?" 
 
 "How can I,' Paul? He does no more harm here 
 than at the Tower, does he?" 
 
 "Harm — oh, no; only Janet is such a child, that 
 she might be flattered by anybody in the world who 
 thought himself in love with her; and it is just as well 
 to avoid scenes." 
 
 "Oh, she is as you say, such a chUd; besides she 
 knows " 
 
 "What does she know, EUnor?" 
 
 "Why; slie knows Hugh is not the kind of per- 
 son indeed slie has never thought at all." 
 
 "I like the way parents dispose of their cliildrcn 
 here. They stiU settle the marriage, and then shoAV the
 
 174 PAUL FEREOIL. 
 
 children to each other; and being the first thing of the 
 kind that has occurred to either, they of course agree." 
 
 "It is not the way we married." 
 
 "No, indeed; there are exceptions of course, and our 
 way would not do for the rule, let me tell you that.", 
 
 "Except that I never for a moment ceased to lore 
 you through all that bitter trial." 
 
 "Nor I you, Elinor." 
 
 "You only married another woman," said Elinor, 
 smiling, and caressing his hand. 
 
 "Yes, what a madman; how desperate, how frantic 
 of me, and of that poor woman! Elinor, there are some 
 things one has done, which as one grows older, one feels 
 could not be done again; no, not even for the blessedness 
 of being your husband." 
 
 "It was not a good plan with a view to that, to 
 many another," said Elinor, again smiling. 
 
 Mr. EeiToU looked at her inquiringly, and then 
 smiled also. "I should not be sorry," he said, "to see 
 Janet marry Cesar." 
 
 "Cesar! Janet — Cesar Lahrotte! the doctor's son. 
 "Who do you mean?" 
 
 "I thought we were talking just now about Janet 
 marrying; it is not necessary to marry in England. I even 
 think for a woman, France is a better country. In the 
 first place, she would be very rich here, instead of mo- 
 derately so in England. If married young, she would be 
 safe from aU speculators upon her fortune. Cesar is a 
 good lad, a dutiful son." 
 
 "But such a young cub, such a child; why, Ferroll, 
 if you want her manied young, and rich, and to a duti- 
 ful son, what's your objection to Hugh?"
 
 PArX FEEEOLL. 
 
 175 
 
 "Hugh," said Mr. Ferroll, the colour passing oyer his 
 face; "oh, that's quite out of the question." 
 
 "Well, perhaps, but Cesar is more so; oh, iuexpres- 
 sibly more." 
 
 "My dearest, then let Cesar be; I am sure I don't 
 care for him." 
 
 "Hugh has more sense if he has less reading; he has 
 good connections; he loves Janet I do believe as far as 
 such a young lad can." 
 
 "Aye, as you say; they are both mere' children. Oh, 
 it 's not to be thought of." With that he begged his ^vife 
 to read to him, and the conversation ceased. 
 
 With Janet also he had a word to say against Hugh 
 Bartlett. The young squire had not profited much by 
 the teachings he had received; and when he was forced 
 into display of his proficiency, the exhibition was not in 
 his favour. Thus the few words of French which neces- 
 sity wrung from Mm in company with the Lahrottes, 
 generally contained three-fourths of mistake. Mr. Ferroll 
 did not spare his colloquial deficiencies in talking of him 
 to his daughter. "Cesar reads with a good intonation 
 enough," said he; "he read the passage I wanted, in Les 
 Horaces, so that I could enjoy it." 
 
 "I am glad of that, papa." 
 
 "That's what Hugh says, poor dear Hugh. 'Je suis 
 tres heureux de cela;' he says toLahrotte — 'tres heureux 
 de cela!' poor dear Hugh." Janet answered nothing; but 
 her thoughts were unUke what her father supposed. 
 "It is bad French, to be sure; but Cesar could not speak 
 to him even in bad English." 
 
 Things went on in an uninterrupted course notwith- 
 standing these conversations, ill'. FeiToll's -^tlII was so 
 strong, that it habitually carried all before it, and being
 
 176 PAUL FERHOLL. 
 
 certain of attaining its end, he neglected the intermediate 
 steps. Whether Jauet married Cesar or not, he did not 
 care, but that she should not many his young neighbour 
 was a fixed point with him. He did not trouble himself 
 about what happened in the time between; whether they 
 saw much or little of each other he did not care; they 
 did not disobey even liis wishes in doing so, nor did he 
 offer any other kind of obstacle to their meeting, except 
 an habitual attack upon the young man's intellectual ac- 
 quu'cments, with which he amused himself, and never 
 met with so much as contradiction from Janet. But 
 Janet was happy in walking and talking with her old 
 eomj)anion; they were both so young, and they were so 
 intimate, and they had their homes and their interests to 
 converse about; and they climbed difficult places with 
 strength of limb and lightness of heart, and were never 
 tired with long walks, or with rides upon queer obstinate 
 horses. Hugh was very seriously in love; but he could 
 never approach the subject with Mr. PerroU, though the 
 time for his departure came near, and he felt that he 
 could not prolong it. He had fixed it himself when he 
 came, at what seemed to him then a considerable dis- 
 tance, and one which would certainly see Janet his 
 affianced bride; but now it seemed coming very quickly, 
 and nothing had been followed up by love avowals, for 
 she still looked on the subject as one which it was 
 naughty to talk about; one forbidden in the nursery, and 
 notliing had released her from the obhgation of avoiding 
 it, more than when he called her once his little wife, 
 and both had incurred such serious displeasure. Manying 
 was far from her thoughts — to change her maiden 
 state, and her home, had never been the subject of her 
 talk; she loved Hugh kindly, and so she did his sisters.
 
 TXJTL FEEEOLL. 177 
 
 Hugh liimself had 'more kno-wledge of the vrovld, and 
 perhaps the unaccountable difficulties of his present piu-- 
 suit added to his inclination for it. It perplexed him to 
 find out why ilr. Ferroll so objected to him. "Your 
 father advises me to go to the Pyrenees; to travel down 
 the Mediterranean, and across somewhere into Africa. 
 I don't mean to do it, Janet." 
 
 "I would, I think, if I were a man." 
 
 "And I would go where you go, Janet. If you travel 
 I will travel, but I'll go home when you do." 
 
 "If you do, I shall be very glad." 
 
 "ShaR you, dear Janet; what really:" 
 
 "Oh, yes, really." 
 
 "When's your birthday?" 
 
 "The 19th of October." 
 
 "And mine — my coming-of-age birthday, I mean — 
 is the year after next, 15th of December. You'll be at 
 home then." 
 
 "Oh, no doubt, I think." 
 
 ".Vnd I shall have learned a great deal before I am 
 of age; I am no boy now, and older men than he treat 
 me as a man, and look upon me as one. Does Mr. Ferroll 
 like people to be in Parliament?" 
 
 "Yes, though he never would be a member himself; 
 but I remember hearing him say to Lord Ewyas, that he 
 ought to put his son into Parliament as soon as he came 
 of age." 
 
 "Did he? Well, I always thought of getting in 
 myself — that is, if I could. I will; I'll talk about it 
 with Piodenham when I get home. Your father will hear 
 of my first speech in Parliament." 
 
 "What wiU it be about?" 
 
 Paul Ferroll. 12
 
 178 TAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 "Oh, Jauct, I don't know, but perhaps, then, Tvhon 
 he sees I can speak to an audience like that, he "will 
 have a higher opinion of me than he has now." 
 
 "I am sure, I think, he has a high opinion now." 
 "You are sure, you think, Janet? Ah! I wish he 
 had, then you would have." 
 
 "I am sure I have," said Janet, frankly. 
 "And something more, my dear, dear Janet; some- 
 thing answering to all the love there is here for you?" 
 
 Janet looked roimd frightened; then answered, as it 
 had been instilled into her to answer, "I love you, of 
 coiu'se, Hugh, quite as much as I do any of your 
 sisters." 
 
 "That has been taught you," cried Hugh; "it is not 
 the natural answer of such a girl as you. Do they say 
 then you are never to marry?" 
 
 "Xobody says anytliing about that," said Janet. 
 "What, do they never say, 'When Janet marries,' or 
 'when you are maixied,' or things of that sort?" 
 "Oh, yes, they may say that perhaps." 
 "Only it must not be me," said Hugh, in a low 
 voice, as if commenting to himself; "their nearest neigh- 
 bour, their most intimate acquaintance, the most natural 
 person in the world to marry their daughter, if they did 
 but like me — what can it be? Janet," he said abruptly, 
 "did you ever hear your father say what he thought it 
 most necessary for a man to know who wants to get into 
 Parliament?" 
 
 "I have heard him say that a good knowledge of the 
 History of England was indispensable, and of the con- 
 stitutional histoiy." 
 
 "Did he? I'll read it again then; Hume and Mrs. 
 Macauley, and a great many more; you know, they
 
 TXVL FEKKOLL. 179 
 
 are all on the light hand, of the halldoor into the 
 library." 
 
 These, and similar resolutions, had an iiltimate object, 
 of coiu'se; they refen'ed to his secret suit with Janet, 
 which was so unaccountably checked, even in the bud by 
 Mr. Ferroll's distaste to it. But Hugh, unable as he was 
 to perceive any valid reason for the opposition, ever 
 looked to the future as certain to produce a better result, 
 and. aimed at this or that effort, hopeful that it would, be 
 the one that would bring him into favour; but one morn- 
 ing he had taken a walk with Cesar, and was standing 
 looking at the yoimg man eagerly employed in setting a 
 brick trap for little bkds, tlie produce of the traps lying 
 by, in the person of six sparrows, which Cesar said would 
 make an excellent ragout. 
 
 "How childish he is," thought Hugh; and as he 
 thought so, Cesar said, "I wonder if Mademoiselle Jean- 
 nette knows how to cook them; she must learn from 
 Mere Marguerite." 
 
 "Why so?" asked Hugh, not seeing the concate- 
 nation. 
 
 "On pcnsc a nous maricr; vous Ic savez bien sans 
 doute," said Cesar. 
 
 Hugh's ideas, both English and French, were over- 
 t}l^o^^^l, and driven to utter incompreliensibiHty and con- 
 fusion, and he found no other word in wliich to express 
 them tlian this one — "Quoir" Cesar looked up from 
 his trap, and coloured; but he again asserted the fact, 
 giving it to be understood that the two fathers had come 
 to the arrangement. 
 
 "Et Janet?" said Hugli, struggKng for some French. 
 "Salt Mademoiselle Janet, (pollc doit vous maricr?" 
 
 12*
 
 180 PAUL FEBEOLL. 
 
 "M'cpouser?" said Cesar: "mais, je ne vous dirais 
 pas." 
 
 "Et pour qiioi ne direz vous moi pas?" cried Hugh, 
 vehemently. 
 
 Cesar shrugged his shoulders, "Mais parcequc je ne 
 sais pas," said he. 
 
 The young Englishman felt like a man knocked 
 down, and unable to recover his dizzy senses. Cesar 
 was again busy with the trap, and Hugh walked away, 
 hardly knowing that he did so. "What does the fellow 
 mean?" thought he. "He says he won't tell me, and but 
 because he does not know. What does he pretend to 
 mean, marry? epouser, as he calls it — epouser, in- 
 deed — epouser Cesar Lahrotte; yet he is too great a 
 fool to invent it all." The superior advantage of a match 
 with himself, except so far as for some reason or other 
 he was hateful to Mr. FerroU, could not, and did not 
 escape liis common sense; why did Mr. Ferroll so dislike 
 him? That evening was the last but two that he was 
 to spend at Pontaube. He begged Janet to walk with 
 him when Mr. and Mrs. EerroU were engaged together, 
 she in reading to liim, he very little desirous of the 
 presence of any other person. Therefore, he heard Hugh's 
 request, and Janet's acquiescence, with indifference, nod- 
 ding at once his approbations to his daughter's inquiring 
 look, before she agreed to the walk. It was a still, fine 
 evening; the sea broke quietly along the beach, the set 
 sun still coloured the waves, the gentle air came with' 
 delicious coolness after the heat of the day. They walked 
 quietly on, and Hugh was less full- of talk than usual. 
 "To-day seemed a long way off when I came first," he 
 said at last, "but here it is, and the day after to-morrow
 
 PArL FERTJOLL. 181 
 
 close at hand, and I cannot prevent it; I did not tliink 
 it would have been such a day as this." 
 
 "It is come very soon," said Janet; "I wish we were 
 going back too." 
 
 "And perhaps you will never come back." 
 
 "2^ever come back — why so? 
 
 "Do you really know notliing that should keep you 
 here for ever — that should part us cnthely — that 
 would make us no longer Mends?" 
 
 "What do you mean, Hugh?" 
 
 "Xothing about Ct'sar Lahi-otte?" 
 
 "Poor little Cesar; no, he can have nothiug to do 
 with anybody, I should tliink." 
 
 "Janet, I tell you the truth; it is too true, your 
 father, Mr. Ferroll, means you to marry liim." Janet 
 stood still, and fixed her eyes full on Hugh's face for a 
 few seconds; that was before she realized the ti'uth of 
 what he said to her — then a blush began to spread 
 over her face, the first Hugh had ever caused, and sud- 
 denly she hid it with her hands, and turned away from 
 liim speecliless. 
 
 "Will you marry him, Jeannie?" 
 
 "Oh, what can my father mean?" she crigd; "to 
 many anybody has been the very last thing he let me 
 tliink of." 
 
 "Yet he means you for that joung idiot; he means 
 to leave you behind ^\^th those base people in a foreign 
 land; in a state of life of which you have no idea; yon, 
 
 Janet, whom " Hugh took her hand, and Janet 
 
 clung to his like one who wants protection. 
 
 "I can't do that, Hugh; I cannot stay here. I care 
 for notliing here; yet, if he has resolved, I shall do it. 
 Oh, I hope he has not resolved."
 
 182 PAUL FEEEOLI,, 
 
 "Janet, you know that I lore yon better than 
 anything in the world. I will defend you even 
 against Mr. Ferroll, if you do but say you want de- 
 fence." 
 
 "Only, Hugh, I cannot stay here." 
 
 "And will you not go with me, dear, dearest Janet? 
 It is not 'a time to be children any longer. I have a 
 right to ask you, and you have a right to listen to me, 
 and this time I do solemnly, earnestly entreat you, my 
 Janet, say whether you can love me." Janet was silent, 
 too full and hasty a crowd of feeling was breaking 
 through the barrier of her thoughts. "We 've been 
 friends always," said he, "dear friends; you know me 
 and all my faults, and you must know also how dearly, 
 deeply, how long I have loved you — be content to 
 love me in return; to confess that you love me; I think, 
 I hope, I almost believe you can one day say so." And 
 truly Janet's eyes were unbandaged, and she began to 
 know it ill her secret soul. The idea "why should not 
 I?" had crept in; the unanswerable question which as 
 yet Mr. Fen-oU had kept unasked. 
 
 "Yes, it is true," cried Hugh, pressing her in his 
 arms; "without words you have answered me — you 
 will be, you are my own Janet. Now I can go boldly 
 to your father, and I will; I have a right to go." 
 
 But Janet withheld hira. She felt her father's eye 
 upon her, and heard him ask if it were really true that 
 she loved this young man; and she knew perfectly well 
 she should say no. "JJon't go; I shall never see you 
 again if you do; I can't disobey him. I have never 
 thought of it," said Janet. And Hugh in vain besought, 
 remonstrated, grew angrj^, grew miserable. Janet wept, 
 Janet trembled, but he felt that the idea of belonging to
 
 TAUL rEEEOLL. 183 
 
 him was as yet too new and unfixed to give her courage 
 to assert it. The nearer he brought it, the more she 
 shrank from it; and at the last he was forced to confess 
 to himself that the miserable expedient of having re- 
 course to time, was the best that could suggest itself, 
 though time to a young man seems the very dullest 
 comforter that exists in the world. 
 
 Hugh went away. Mr. Ferroll saw the parting be- 
 tween him and his daughter, and understood how mat- 
 ters stood between them. They, however, thought their 
 affair unknown to anvbodv. That day Mi'. Fcrroll 
 talked about liim kindly and justly; Janet's feelings 
 which were aHve enough, were not injured by any tiling 
 he said; by the end of the day they were soothed, and 
 at the same time further than ever from opposing them- 
 selves to her father's will. He had talked confidentially 
 to her, and joined her in conversation with her mother, 
 telling both, particulars of his aftairs, letting Janet know 
 something of the fortune she was to expect from him, 
 and discussing with both, the project he had for an 
 essay, of which the materials were before him, and in 
 displaying which, his fine imagination and strong power 
 caught the mind of his hearers. He said nothing directly 
 about forbidding any intercourse between her and Hugh; 
 he did not see her receive the letter from him which 
 came a few days after, but he saw her blush when he 
 purposely made a wrong guess as to whither the young 
 man was gone. He said, "Has not Hugh written to 
 you, Janet?" and she felt so terribly, desperately, grate- 
 ful to him for not asking to see his letter, that the only 
 one she wrote to her young lover, was to beseech him 
 not to write again. 
 
 The post wlxich that morning brought several letters
 
 184 PAUl FEEEOLL. 
 
 to Mr. Fcrroll, Keemcd to have a malign influence over 
 him. He opened them in the presence of Mrs. Ferroll, 
 and one after the other gave them to her, excej)t a few 
 which were bills or receipts, and which he put by on 
 the other side. Janet, who watched him unobserved 
 vnth. the most assiduous care, saw him, as he read one 
 of these, colour for an instant with a sudden flush, and 
 gnaw his lip, though the betrayal of his feelings was 
 but momentary. That letter went aside with the un- 
 interesting ones; Mrs. FerroU did not know it was there; 
 but before long, he contiived a pretence for being alone, 
 and then he took the letter out again from its conceal- 
 ment, and read it deliberately, and sadly through. 
 
 When M. Lahrotte came to him that day, he told 
 him that it was very possible there might be an ab- 
 solute necessity for him to go to England. 
 
 "Which is quite impossible," said the surgeon. 
 
 "No; at least it is not impossible that I should try. 
 It may be more impossible to stay; but I tell you, in 
 order that you may do anything you think necessary ia 
 preparation." 
 
 "But what kind of business could that be which 
 should oblige you to kill yoiu'self?" asked Lahrotte. 
 
 "To tell you the ti-uth, a person's life may depend 
 on my journey. My personal testimony may be essen- 
 tial respecting a circumstance which occurred when I 
 was a young man; and if it be so, I will go at every 
 kind of risk — my life, and anji;hing else. But for 
 my part, I don't believe the journey need kill me? Do 
 you think it would?" 
 
 "Kill — no, perhaps not; but all hopes of a 
 cure would be at an end. You must be lame for 
 life."
 
 PATTl FEEEOLL. 185 
 
 "Well, life may not be very long," said Mr. Ferroll. 
 "But I tcill go, if necessary." 
 
 "It would be grievous for madamoiselle," said 
 Lahrotte, after a pause, "if any evil should happen to 
 you." 
 
 "Very, very," said Mr. Ferroll. 
 
 "And if you could resolve upon the scheme I have 
 suggested." 
 
 "Well, I'll teU you frankly, that if I must go to 
 England, it would be a remarkable relief to me to leave 
 her behind, a married woman, vnth. a house where she 
 could receive whomsoever she liked — her mother, or 
 any one. If things were managed as easily with us as 
 with you, it should be done; but oiu' girls leam tradi- 
 tionally to choose for themselves, and father and mo- 
 ther have in fact nothing but a veto, and not always 
 that." 
 
 "At aU. events your veto is not upon my son?" said 
 the surgeon. 
 
 "Oh, dear, no." 
 
 Nothing more was said at this time on the subject. 
 M. Lahrotte was verj- anxious to keep his patient quiet, 
 and would not have said so much about his personal 
 danger, had not his mind been vcrj' much upon securing 
 the handy and moneyed young Englishwoman. He 
 found Mr. Ferroll's pulse was liigher than it had been 
 since the first days of the accident, and he hastened to 
 close the conversation, and hoped to repair what ill 
 might have been done by offering to send Cesar to read 
 to him. But Ml'. FeiToll refused, and said he would be 
 alone for a little while. When they returned to him, 
 his mind seemed to have regained its perfect equili- 
 brium, that indeed had hardly been disturbed for an
 
 18G PAUL FEEBOLl. 
 
 instant; but the effect of hurried and eager thoughts on 
 his body at this moment was like the too hasty swelling 
 of a liame within a ball of glass. It set in motion 
 causes which the frame was not powerful enough to 
 resist; the impetuous blood flowed too unrestrainedly 
 through the weak vessels ; feyer came on, sudden though 
 sKght twitchings ran through his frame, and he himself 
 knew the danger that was arising of some strong con- 
 vulsion in the disorganised nerves, ending all in a few 
 moments. He called Lahrotte to him, and pointed out 
 the symptoms, or rather told that he himself had ob- 
 served them, and asked him how far the danger was 
 imminent. The surgeon instinctively replied there was 
 none. Mr. Ferroll shook his head irapatientlj''. "Nay," 
 he said, "don't treat me like a child. I see and know 
 myself what my state is; but I can't judge so accurately 
 as j^ou, and I really should be glad to have your opinion 
 whether I shall die or not." 
 
 Thus adjured, M. Lahrotte resolved on a finer arti- 
 fice than the base denial of all danger. He considered 
 what it would be best to say, taking into account the 
 kind of patient he had to deal with, and arranged his 
 ideas accordingly. "I think," he said, "that something 
 agitates your mind, and causes this temporary alteration 
 for the worse. Is not it so?" 
 
 "Not at all. A letter that I got made my thoughts 
 surge for a short time; but the subject is one very 
 habitually before me. It does not agitate me the least 
 in the world now." 
 
 "No; but it has done so, and your frame does not 
 recover its equilibrium after any disturbance in its pre- 
 sent state."
 
 PAUX FEEEOH. 187 
 
 "That 's it, I dare say. And you think it never 
 may, I suppose?" 
 
 "I don't deny the possibility." 
 
 "But do you think I shall die? or don't you tliink 
 so?" said FerroU, very impatiently. 
 
 "I think," said Lahrotte, "I believe if you will have 
 my sincere opinion " 
 
 "That I shall," said Mr. FcitoU, in a voice so sud- 
 denly calm, that it was like that of a person relieved 
 from pain. 
 
 "This eccentric Saxon wishes to die," said the 
 surgeon to himself. "Certainly, sir, it may be so," he 
 said aloud in a melancholy voice, and his quick gray 
 eye watched his patient covertly. 
 
 Mr. Ferroll heaved a sigh — a sigh of relief rather 
 than any other expression, as M. Lahrotte thought. "Call 
 my little Jeannie, will you?" said he, in a quieter voice 
 than he had yet spoken. "I've something to say to her 
 alone; and then come back if you please." M. Lahrotte 
 did aU he was desired, first conveying a few dark drops 
 into a glass of water, and administering them to his pa- 
 tient without making any obsei-vation. 
 
 "Janet," said Mr. Fen'oll, "I'm not so weU to-day as 
 I have been; and I've some idea I may die. Why, 
 Janet, of course you've thought of that as possible. Now 
 listen — your mother, some little time ago, would have 
 been firm enough to hear this; but she has suft'cred, and 
 cannot yet bear to suffer again. She must sufler, alas! 
 but she won't bear up at first. You will have to do all 
 — therefore remember, if I die, to Avrite directly to Mr. 
 Ilarrowby. You know his direction, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes," said the ti'cmbling girl.
 
 188 PAUL FEimOLL. 
 
 "He knows what to do; he has all my papers; there 
 are directions at home to apply to him, which Elinor 
 would have found if we had been there; but as we are 
 here, I tell you, which will do as well. I'm very weak. 
 I feel like a man going to rest, Janet." 
 
 "Papa, my dear, dear father," said Janet, sinking on 
 her knees beside him. 
 
 "Don't you know this?" he said: "a deep sleep after 
 a long day of toil, is what men covet most." Then he 
 added, "When I am dead, marry the one you love best, 
 Janet. Freely, truly, I consent; and now tell Lahrotte I 
 am very easy — he may come or not." 
 
 Lahrotte came, felt his pulse, said nothing, but moved 
 softly, and drew the curtains before the window. Janet 
 waited for him outside the door. Words she had not; 
 but her terrified eyes interrogated him. The old man 
 took her hand. "I really think he is so composed by 
 the idea of dying, that he will not die. He seems to 
 have got his will, and getting it, will, I trust, lose it for 
 him again. I suppose he's so afraid of being infirm for 
 life, that death seems to him preferable." 
 
 "That must be his thought," said Janet; "but he will. 
 — oh, he will live, dear M. Lahrotte?" 
 
 "Well, I think so." 
 
 Mr, FerroU after this feU. into a deep sleep ' — partly 
 that he was weak and exhausted — partly that his mind 
 was very much at rest; the dark drops probably con- 
 tributed. He opened his eyes again upon a world, 
 where his part in the drama seemed to have tired liim; 
 and whatever he thought on the subject of his late 
 danger, he expressed no regret or pleasure at escaping 
 it. He received his sui'geon's congratulations, and his 
 daughter's joy, with the merest commonplace phrases.
 
 PAUL F£KKOLL. 189 
 
 One thing wliich Janet had scarcely noticed at the time, 
 rose to the si;rface when her memory began quietly to 
 recall the scene gone by. "Marry whom you will," 
 were the words she had heard. She longed to approach 
 that subject, but dared not. Lahrottc was bolder. "Has 
 not the young Englishman been away long enough?" he 
 asked one day; for he had expressed his hope that when 
 Hugh should be gone, Janet would be more favourable 
 to Cesar. 
 
 "Nay, Cesar should know that best," said Mr. Fer- 
 roU. 
 
 "Cesar knows nothing, nor mademoiselle either, I 
 think," said Lahrotte; "children as they are, why not 
 determine for them?" 
 
 "That's impossible in my case," said Mr. FerroU. 
 "There is one thing only I can determine, and that is, 
 that she never — never, I being alive to forbid it, shall 
 marry the young Englishman." 
 
 "Well — well, sir, don't agitate yourself about that 
 or anything else." 
 
 "Xot I; I can carry out my purposes without agita- 
 tion, I promise you." 
 
 "Nevertheless, the other day you suffered from your 
 letter." 
 
 "Yes — this ricketty house might have fallen, being 
 at this time so frail; but that would have been a splen- 
 did solution to all perplexities. I loas in perplexity; 
 but I have taken good measures; and they will probably 
 answer." 
 
 "I am sorry to hear it — soiry I mean for your 
 embarrassments, and if my advice or even assistance 
 
 could be of scrA-ice in any 1 don't mean in any 
 
 pecuniar}' view, I am poor, and I know you arc a "
 
 190 PAUL FEKEOLL. 
 
 "Oh, I am rich, don't fear it. Janet will make Cesar 
 ricli if she many liim, never fear." 
 
 Uut what Hugh had told Janet had frightened her so 
 effectually that if the marriage depended on her loving 
 young Cesar, there were very little hope indeed. Hhe 
 no longer would adventure herself to walk by his side 
 thinking of something to say; she would no longer, when 
 he was sitting in her father's room, seek to keep up a 
 conversation about the manner of laying fishuig lines, or 
 trapping mice. She let him shift for himself — he was 
 not now in her eyes a gaunt schoolboy, but a strong 
 enemy, who laid himself open to every sort of passive 
 resistance. Cesar would sit openmouthed as usual, and 
 tmcomfortably silent, but Janet would work resolutely at 
 her embroideiy and let him feel how dull he was. Cesar 
 would come in the morning and wait an hour for Janet 
 to accompany him as heretofore, while Janet, when forced 
 to walk by her mother's desire to do so, would get up 
 at daylight and be out of the way before he came upon 
 his post. Her father was amused by observing all this, 
 and with no pity to Janet, made this note in his pocke; 
 book: — "Janet went out at four o'clock this momingt 
 I heard her ■ door open. When she came to me after- 
 wards I asked, Did you see Cesar? deep blushes and the 
 alann of a young fawn. 'I thought he was to walk with 
 you on account of the dogs,' I said. 'I can't think where 
 he was papa — I walked where he generally comes to 
 take care of the dogs and he was not there.' Womanly 
 dissembler! how was he to know you meant to walk at 
 four o'clock in the morning?" 
 
 Things went on in this way through the summer, 
 during which Mr. Ferroll recovered, more rapidly than 
 at one time seemed possible, and was able to begin again
 
 PAUL FEEROLL. 191 
 
 resuming plans for the disposal of tlieii' winter. Hugh 
 had obeyed the injunction not to write Janet, but in- 
 stead of doing so liimself he had made his sisters keep 
 up a close coiTcspondence with her, and by this means 
 gave Janet notice of -what he himself was doing, and 
 tried to regulate his movements upon hers; but here 
 again he was baffled. Mr. FerroU would entertain his 
 family with jirojects which he was sure would reach 
 Hugh through Janet's correspondence, and the autumn 
 following their anival at Pontaube, he had talked so 
 much of a ^-isit to Egypt, and seemed so intent upon 
 passing the cold months there that he had heard, and 
 smiled to hear how Hugh had taken a fancy to see the 
 pj-ramids, and had actually taken measures to leave 
 home for the pui^wse. "Perhaps we shall meet him," 
 said Mr. Pcrroll, and the project went on till Hugh had 
 actually left England; then by some means it died away, 
 Sicily was nearer, and presented many advantages as a 
 winter residence; and at times Athens seemed the more 
 desirable place, and was one which Mrs. Eerroll had 
 never yet seen. Janet had never allowed to herseLf how 
 glad she should be to see Hugh in case they had met in 
 Egypt, and did not therefore allow that she was very 
 much disappointed not to do so. In fact her strongest 
 wish was for the time when they should all renew their 
 old habits of intercourse at home, and in the course of 
 next summer she was sure both the families would be 
 in their right places just as they used to be, so that 
 she was willing to like every project in a certain degree, 
 and always in reference to the liealth of one or other 
 l)arcnt. 
 
 liy this time it was the middle of October, it wanted 
 but ten days to that on which Janet would be seventeen;
 
 192 PAUL FEKROLL. 
 
 she had grown up insensihly among the closer and more 
 prominent interests of her family, into as lovely a ghl 
 as ever eyes beheld — her beauty and herself, however, 
 were quite secondary objects among them — familiarity 
 made them little conscious of the first, and their habits 
 kept the daughter of the house in the back -ground; so 
 that she was like some exquisite specimen of the wild 
 animals of the forest, using those beautiful Hmbs, ex- 
 posing that angelic face, as though they were but the 
 commonest clay that can be fashioned, and unconscious 
 what an impression of loveliness they left on the spec- 
 tator. She was proud of being of use to her father; 
 habituated to do everything for her mother. Praise was 
 rare and valuable, her customary feeling was their su- 
 periority, and her own humbler pretensions as less clever, 
 less learned, less accomplished than cither of them. It 
 was a suitable healthy feeling for a young girl, and 
 contributed no doubt to her peaceableness and con- 
 tent. 
 
 "Jeannie," said Mr. Fen-oU, one day when she was 
 alone with him, "I think we shall go home. I shall 
 give up Egypt, and all other travels." 
 
 Janet looked up, and coloured deeply; the surprise 
 brought colour into her face. "And mamma?" she said, 
 after a few seconds' pause, during which many thoughts 
 passed through her mind. 
 
 "Mamma? what do you mean?" asked her father. 
 
 " Would it be good for her, especially at this time of 
 year? I don't think she is very well." 
 
 "Where do you want to go?" said Mr. FerroU. 
 
 "Where would be best for mamma," said Janet, 
 looking up at her father.
 
 PATTL FERBOLL. 193 
 
 "I do believe it, little daughter," said he; "and 
 come here, and tell me why goiag home would not be 
 best for her." 
 
 "She is not so well as she used to be; she thinks so 
 much of you, of your fall, she is always afraid of some- 
 thing happening." 
 
 "Do you think so? Since that stupid accident I 
 have always believed her to be better — nay, well." 
 
 "She wishes to seem so; and you have not seen her 
 BO much." 
 
 "iffot observed so much, you mean; you have been 
 observing, it seems. I have been selfish, Jeannie." 
 
 "Oh, no, no, my dear papa; you are so patient, 
 so finn." 
 
 "Oh, yes, yes, my dear daughter, patience has no- 
 thing to do with observation; and you may be right, 
 the Tower may not be exactly the place to amuse and 
 interest her enough; after aU., Egypt or Athens may 
 be best." 
 
 Janet said no more; but a feeling of great satisfaction 
 came over her that her opinion should be taken, and 
 should have any weight with her father; she enjoyed it 
 all day long, and fancied she was present to her father's 
 mind, and of some use in his councils, until next morn- 
 ing, she heard him in conversation with M. Lahrotte, 
 say, as if notliing had ever passed between him. and 
 her, "I have made up my mind to go to England the 
 week after next." In fact, it never occurred to him, 
 however he might listen to another person, to act on 
 any one's opinion but Ids own. Poor Lahrotte had his 
 own disappointment at this announcement; he still clung 
 to the project about his son, though Mr. Ferroll had 
 long since x^ut it by, among objects upon which he did 
 
 Paul Ferroll. 13
 
 194 PAUL FEEKOLI. 
 
 not care to exercise his will. It was become a mere 
 amusement to liim; and when the worthy doctor, on 
 hearing of the proposed departure, made one more forlorn 
 petition for the interests of his son, Mr. Ferroll rather 
 encouraged him than otherwise, to come boldly to the 
 point, and lay his pretensions fully before Janet. " Cesar 
 has never made the proposal; he does not know what 
 effect his silent suit has had on his mistress; perhaps if 
 he were to speak out, he might find that silence alone 
 has been in his way." 
 
 "I doubt it," said the doctor: "don't you perceive 
 that she may be said rather to shun than seek his 
 society?" 
 
 "I have made some observation of the kind," answered 
 Mr. FerroU; "still I protest to you that she has never 
 declared any such sentiments to me." 
 
 "And after all," said Lahrotte, "you, sir, will look 
 with pleasure on Cesar, as your son-in-law?" 
 
 "In all sincerity," said Mr. FerroU: "let her marry, 
 let me leave her in France, I am contented." 
 
 "And madame, she is of the same sentiments?" 
 
 "One day she may be." 
 
 "I have been thinking," said Lahrotte, "that Ma- 
 demoiselle Jeannette took great pleasure in her excursions 
 on horseback with the young Englishman, and that if 
 Cesar were to offer her the same amusement, the situa- 
 tion might be one in which an interesting conversation 
 could be well carried on. He shall have my pony, it's 
 very quiet." 
 
 "Aye, take care it is quiet," said Mr. Ferroll, "for 
 it would be very awkward to make one's declaration at 
 a gallop, and the gallop against one's will. When will 
 this project come off?"
 
 PATJI FEEEOLL. 195 
 
 "I'll arrange it," said the father, pleased at having 
 a scheme to work out, and he returned home to prepare 
 all things for its execution. Janet was surprised next 
 morning to receive an invitation from the doctor to visit 
 the Castle of — , on horseback. He said he had a pa- 
 tient in the neighboui'hood, and the ride was one of the 
 prettiest in that part of the country. He omitted to tell 
 her that Cesar was to make one of the party, much less 
 did he say that Cesar was the one. Janet looked at her 
 mother; her mother drew up a little, and would have 
 declined; but Mr. FeiToll interposed, "Go if you like, 
 Janet," he said; and Janet did not like, but went. The 
 prudent doctor had detenuiued not to hazard his son 
 alone even on the quiet pony; for he knew that Cesar 
 was much better educated in mind than body, and had 
 some misgivings as to the skill he might e^'ince. The 
 young man, however, was delighted with the project. 
 He was inexperienced enough for a ride to be a treat to 
 liim; and in getting himself up for it, it is certain that 
 his mind dwelt more on the excursion than on the pro- 
 ject involved. He had no vain fears; on the contrarj-, 
 he felt himself very much of a man as he talked of what 
 tlie pony could do, but would not venture to do, if he 
 chose to tighten the rein, and what he and the pony 
 together could do if he chose to let it out. He was 
 busy for half an hour about his sh-aps, sewing on a 
 button, and making a button-hole; he spent some time 
 in tying a string to his cap, and making it fast to liis 
 coat, saying, that although it was not probable he should 
 be leaping, or going full gallop, it was better for a 
 horseman to be prepared. Ho cut himself a swatch in 
 the garden, and went down to the stable half an liour 
 before the time of riding, to take precautious about the 
 
 13*
 
 196 PAUL FEKEOLI, 
 
 operation of saddling, though it had heen performed 
 there, and on that beast, some thousands of days, and 
 successfully. In fact, he too much neglected pondering 
 on what he was going to say, and gave himself over too 
 ■ devotedly to what he was going to do. 
 
 Janet, meantime, unwillingly dressed for riding, and 
 thought of Hugh. She came down stairs step by step, 
 putting on 'her gloves deliberately; and when she came 
 out upon the door-way, perceived with a little augmen- 
 tation of disgust that the doctor had smuggled his son 
 into the proposed arrangements. Shy and courteous, 
 however, she greeted him without any manifestation of 
 her feeling, and saw him imagining he assisted her to 
 mount without making him imderstand that he was much 
 more hindrance than help. For some time they all 
 trotted on together, Cesar bumping along in his saddle, 
 and highly exhilarated with his equestrian exercise. 
 Janet did not know what to say, and M. Lahrotte was 
 intent upon finding an opportunity for leaving her and 
 his son together. But the latter had some latent instinct 
 that he was safest where his pony kept sight of its 
 familiar companion, the horse his father mounted, and 
 defeated the manoeuvre with provoking perversity. "I 
 think," said old Lahrotte, "the plant I was talking of 
 grows on the common there, I'll fetch you a bit;" and 
 was moving away, when to his vexation a horse's feet 
 trotted behind him, and Cesar came up alone, and de- 
 clared Mademoiselle Ferroll thought he had much better 
 accompany his father. 
 
 "Why, what had you said to her?" cried the latter, 
 turning quickly roiind upon him. 
 
 "I said, 'Did not she think you would want me?'"
 
 PAUL FEEKOLI,. 197 
 
 "Foolish child," cried the father, and rode back to 
 Janet, saying it was hardly worth while to look for the 
 plant just now. Janet assented, and they went on. 
 Presently they came to a nest of cottages clustering on 
 one side of an open heath, which afforded the doctor the 
 pretence, at least, of a patient; and desiring the other 
 two to ride on, he resolutely turned his horse's head in 
 the other direction. But it would not do; five minutes 
 after he heard his name called, and that in no very 
 easy accents, and pulling up abruptly, saw Cesar curbing 
 in his pony with desperate energy, and Janet proceeding 
 by his side at a walk, while the pony irritated by the 
 curb, and anxious to rejoin its companion, evidently gave 
 its rider no small uneasiness. "Mademoiselle thinks," 
 said Cesar, when the doctor turned round and joined 
 them, "that we had better go on to the Castle first 
 altogether; you can call here coming back." 
 
 "If you wish it, certainly, my dear lady," said 
 Lahrotte. 
 
 "Nay," said Janet, "M. Cesar declared he did not 
 know the way, and asked whether in that case it was 
 not better to wait for you." 
 
 "No, not xvait" said Cesar. "I meant that you " 
 
 "Never mind what," said Lahrotte; "let us go to- 
 gether. Awkward!" All together therefore they reached 
 the object of their ride, and dismounting, went under 
 the guidance of the woman who had care of it, to see 
 the whitewashed chateau, and the parlour and entrance 
 room, and pohshcd floors, which made up a respectable 
 dwelling-house, ill described by the English word castle. 
 There was a trellice walk in the garden, however, wliich 
 was very prcttj-. The vines hung about it and tlirough 
 it, and at the end was seen a cottage accidentally placed
 
 198 PAUL FEKEOLl. 
 
 in the vista, wliich seemed framed by the graceful 
 foliage. Janet, who was hardly at ease, took out a 
 pencil by way of something to do, and ia the first page 
 of her pocket-book began a sketch of it. Old Lahrotte 
 walked away humming a tune, as if he were in a 
 reverie — young Lahrotte looked at Janet's progress for 
 a little while, and then went to feed a goat which was 
 tethered in the garden. 
 
 "Well, but, Cesar," said liis father, "is not this the 
 very moment I have managed for you? is not she alone; 
 have you anything to do but to ask her for your 
 wife?" 
 
 "I don't know, father. It is very embarrassing; 
 what can anybody say, except just will you marry me? 
 and that is so short. It does not seem to me she would 
 like it." 
 
 "Pshaw! go and sit down by her; get rather too 
 near — perhaps she will say, why do you do that?" 
 
 "And what must I answer?" 
 
 "What shall you feel?" 
 
 "That you told me to do it." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 "Yes," said Cesar, in a tone as if he had investigated 
 his feelings, and wondered why there should be any- 
 thing particular there. "Father," said he, resuming the 
 dialogue, "could not you go and do all that? and when 
 she agrees, I shall be ready to keep house, and have a 
 wife, and a servant of our own, and what you like. 
 Indeed, father, I have no objection at all to your plan; 
 but I think it would be better if you settled it." 
 
 "I tell you no, Cesar. EngHsh girls, I have heard, 
 have no principles like our girls. They are so forward, 
 that they expect before they are married, to be sup-
 
 PAUL FEBEOLL. 199 
 
 posed to know the rights of women, mxich more than 
 they should know; and they are to decide upon questions 
 which, if I had a daughter, should not come into her 
 head, till she was off my hands, and in those of her 
 husband." 
 
 "What are those, father?" 
 
 "It don't matter. Mr. FerroU himself can't control 
 that child's choice; and if you are to repay my in- 
 dulgence, Cesar, if you are to make it worth while to 
 have been allowed this long holiday, if you are to have 
 any hope of an apartment and a servant of yom- own, 
 you mast make up your mind now, or as we ride home, 
 to propose yourself to the young FerroU as her hus- 
 band." 
 
 "I have no objection, my dear father, I am sure. 
 
 I should Hke it — only well, as we ride home — not 
 
 now," said Cesar, putting off the e^vil day. 
 
 Old Lahrotte gave a sort of sigh, but silently assent- 
 ed, and taking his son's arm, led him away to the house, 
 and there bestowed upon him an overflowing beaker of 
 Bordeaux, putting into his hands a plate of biscuits, and 
 a moderate glass of wine for Janet. The kindly drinlc 
 did Cesar's heart good, and when they mounted their 
 horses, and began thou- ride home, his father was 
 cheered to see how gallantly he trotted his pony, and 
 how his tongue seemed loosened to utter obsei-vations of 
 various kinds. Janet civilly answered, and even en- 
 couraged him, reflecting silently that the ride would 
 soon be over, and that the constraint of conversing with 
 80 raw a lad, was repaid by the pleasure it seemed to 
 give his kind old father, so that by degrees they got 
 into a kind of flowing discourse, consisting very much of 
 questions and answers, till old J^alirottc seeing this,
 
 200 PAUL TEBEOIX. 
 
 grddually fell bcliind, and whisking suddenly np a lane 
 on one side, was gone before Cesar missed him. Now 
 was Cesar launched on the tide of his destiny; but it 
 was long before he gave himself away to the current. 
 While it was possible he clung as it were to the shore, 
 and indeed resolved in his own mind to say nothing to 
 Janet about his father's project, until the spire of 
 Pontaube should appear over a certain eminence, which 
 he knew well indicated that they were but two miles 
 from home. Meantime, they walked their ponies quietly 
 along; for Janet was waiting for the Doctor, and Cesar 
 was glad to have an honourable release from hard 
 trotting, so that his equestrian feelings were at rest, and 
 he began to say to himself more than once, "It is really 
 very pleasant to talk to her, I think I should like it." 
 At length they arrived at a level piece of ground, where 
 the road ran along an open common, and the soft turf 
 on each side invited them and their horses to turn off 
 upon it. 
 
 "I think," said Janet, "it is no use to wait for your 
 father, let us canter on," and putting her horse into 
 quicker motion, she did as she proposed. Cesar was dis- 
 composed; the moments were numbered, for the spire 
 rose ever 'clearer and clearer before them; the subject 
 was delicate, yet he had to rush upon it, when his 
 hands and heart belonged to his pony. Nay, he felt the 
 pcny give signs of eagerness to be first, and to take his 
 pleasure along the elastic turf. "Mademoiselle," said he; 
 "mademoiselle, I have something to say to you." 
 
 "And that is?" said Janet. 
 
 "My father thinks, and I think, that I should make 
 you a husband who would adore you."
 
 PAUL FEEEOLL. 201 
 
 "I have not the same idea," said Janet, and im- 
 patiently hastened the pace of her horse, which she had 
 been restraining to keep back with Cesar. Then Cesar's 
 pony showed his own will. Cesar felt that fatal feeling 
 too well known to timid and inexpert riders, as if the 
 hinder part of his horse were getting first, and the next 
 moment he was mastered, and away went the pony full 
 gallop. Janet laughed; she was much better mounted, 
 and overtook her lover in a couple of minutes. Adroitly 
 bending down, she seized his rein, and soon pulled up 
 both horses; but she kept his in her hand, and led him 
 along the road. "I will prevent him from running 
 away again," said she, "and we'll talk of something 
 else." 
 
 In a few days after this Cesar returned to school, 
 and all the projects of the town of Pontaube concerning 
 the Ferroll family came to an end, for they set off on 
 their way to England.
 
 202 PAUL TEBKOLL. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 It was in November that the Ferroll family again 
 took possession of the Tower; not a genial time to move 
 from sunny southern climates to the short days of Eng- 
 land. It was on a dank morning of the month, that Mr. 
 Ferroll, leaving his wife and Janet re-arranging their 
 life in the house, walked do-RTi to a cottage a little way 
 outside his garden, and inquired for one Martha Franks. 
 There came out a little stout woman some sixty years 
 of age, whom when he saw he drove as it were inside 
 the cottage, and came and sate down opposite to her by 
 the fire. "You could not rest then, on the other side 
 of the Atlantic?" said he. 
 
 "No, indeed, sir; I hope your honour won't be angry 
 for not following your advice, but I had such a longing 
 to come over, that one day when I found I had money 
 enough I set off, as it were, all of a sudden, as if a 
 wind out of the desert had driven me." 
 
 "I'm not a-ngry; it is all alike to me — but I ktiow 
 you would have been better there." 
 
 "Ah, sir, as long as Richard lived he always said 
 the same — he would not come back to a country where 
 he and I was once pointed at as murderers, he said. 
 But it's such a long time ago now, sir; and when 
 Richard was gone, it was so very lonely." 
 
 "Why did you write to me for advice, if you were 
 resolved beforehand what to do?"
 
 PAUL FEKEOLI.. 203 
 
 "No, sir, no, not that; but I wanted yoiir honoiir's 
 consent to my coming." 
 
 "And you did not get it." 
 
 "But I thought if your honour was to hear all the 
 reasons from myself — and I can speak much better 
 than writing, I am such a poor scholar." 
 
 "Yes, you made up your mind to see England again, 
 and you do see it. Good luck to you with it. It is no 
 kind of matter to me." 
 
 "I fear your honour's angry with me." 
 
 "Not I — poor wretch! But what made you thiak of 
 me after fifteen years of silence? It was that day fifteen 
 years since I sent you some money, that I had your 
 letter last year." 
 
 "Oh, sir, we was always thinking of you. It was 
 you who was never out of Richard's head; he could 
 think of nothing but the poor lady and you." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "My poor lady — to think anybody could hann her. 
 He often said just those words, and he would tell it all 
 over and over again, and talk of you all at the same 
 time. VHio could it be, sii", did it? who could it be? 
 For my part, I would not have harmed her, no more 
 than if she had been my child." 
 
 "Who said you could?" asked Mr. Ferroll. 
 
 "Nobody, nobodj-. Lord, sir, nobody; but I was only 
 saying it was a thing quite unpossiblc." 
 
 "Then what's the use of saying it at all?" 
 
 "WeU, I don't know, sii-; except that coming back 
 fresh, it all turns again in one's mind just as if it were 
 new again."
 
 204 PATH FEKHOLL. 
 
 "Pshaw! you must remember that all of us have 
 been living here ever siace, and that it is not quite so 
 new to us as to you." 
 
 "But your honour has been away these fourteen 
 months as I heard, and it was you being away, as I was 
 told ia a letter from Mabel, as made me think more to 
 come; for I was not sure if I should be a pleasant ob- 
 ject to you — only across the sea I should be out of 
 your sight." 
 
 "I had business in England which brought me sud- 
 denly back — that does not matter. For your own 
 sake you would have been better where you were, and 
 I told you so. See your friends, settle your affairs, and 
 go back again, I advise you — put the sea between 
 us if you will. I agree with you, that it is not the 
 pleasantest thing in the world to see the person who was 
 connected with that — with my first wife's murder." 
 
 "Lord, sir, you do frighten me with such words — 
 and connected with it? you know, sir, I fainted dead 
 away when we was all examined." 
 
 "Other people will remember that, too," said Mr. 
 Ferroll. 
 
 "Eemember what, sir? they can remember nothing 
 against me except that my husband was said by the 
 judge to be an innocent man." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "God forbid I should ever be said anything to, sir, 
 by judge or jury." 
 
 "Amen, you poor old soul!" said Mr. Ferroll. "But 
 what's the matter?" for the old creature for a minute 
 past had been standing up, and now trembled \iolently, 
 and caught at the table for support. 
 
 "Oh, sir," said she, "I enjoy a very bad state of
 
 PAtn, FEEEOLL. 205 
 
 health. It's a way I have abont the heart," and she 
 fell down into a chair, panting -violently. 
 
 Mr. Ferroll pushed open the door, and gave her his 
 snuff-box open. The pungent weed revived her. "Are 
 you often ill like that?" said he. 
 
 "jS'ot very often, sir; but it's very bad when it 
 comes. The doctor in ]Srew Southampton said it would 
 be the death of me," and she leaned her head on the 
 table, exhausted with the attack. 
 
 "I'll send your neighbour to you," said Mr. Ferroll, 
 rising; "you'd be better in bed, I dare say," and open- 
 ing a door, which led to a cottage under the same roof, 
 he called the woman of the house by name and walked 
 away. 
 
 "Die, die!" he said, and went hastily on, buried in. 
 thought. 
 
 The Tower had a flight of steps before the door, 
 with a lai^e spreading balustrade on each side. The 
 entrance hall was octagon, and just opposite the door 
 was a great fire-place, with noble logs burning on it. 
 The room was furnished with rich-coloured carpets and 
 table covers; chairs of dark wood and light velvet; 
 pictures in four sides of the octagon, in carved frames, 
 and various other objects of luxury. The possessor was 
 plainly a man Avho commanded the pleasures bought by 
 money, and whose tastes and education placed him 
 among the upper half of mankind. The possessor entered 
 this pleasant room — tliis room rich in enjoyment; but 
 the scene in the cottage still left an impression on liis 
 face — not for long, however — not longer than while 
 no one else was present. In the adjoining dra-wing- 
 room he hoard his wife's voice, and that of some other 
 person, and whatcAcr emotion had sui'ged up, and made
 
 206 PATJL FEEEOLI.. 
 
 itself visible, was tlu^ust back, and pent witliin his 
 heart. It was Lady Lucy Bartlett who had come zeal- 
 ously to the Tower to welcome her neighbour; her 
 daughters were gone off with Janet into some other room, 
 and all were busy in telling and hearing what had 
 passed. 
 
 "It is better of you than we hoped, Mr. Ferroll," 
 said the lady, "coming back at this time of year — just 
 in time for Christmas. We had no hope you would 
 return till the bad weather was over." 
 
 "I had business in England," said Mr. FeiToll. "To 
 be sure I might have left Elinor and Janet behind, but 
 what should I have done without them?" 
 
 "Or I? left behind alone," said Mrs. Ferroll. 
 
 "At all events I'm very glad you are come; only 
 Mrs. Ferroll must take care of herself, she looks de- 
 licate." 
 
 "Does she?" said her husband, looking earnestly at 
 her; "so Janet said." 
 
 "So don't / say," Mrs. Ferroll answered gaily, and 
 rising lightly from her chair, the delicate colour flushing 
 over her face. "See, Lady Lucy, here's a little present 
 we brought for you from Paris. You like china still, 
 I hope?" 
 
 Lady Lucy was delighted. ""We shall have every- 
 thing pretty and new again, now you are come home," 
 said she; "and my dear Hugh also sent me the prettiest 
 chains from Venice. It's so unlucky, this journey of 
 his to Egjrpt. Do you know, my cousin Ewyas wants 
 to bring him forward for the county?" 
 
 "Ah, indeed; is there a vacancy there?" 
 
 "Quite sxire to be one; for Mr. Aldry cannot live
 
 PAUL FEEEOLL. 207 
 
 another week, and then it would be the best oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 "Indeed it would; and where is Hugh?" 
 
 "Gone to Egypt, I am sorry to say." 
 
 "That's unlucky; and he is too young to be put in 
 nomination during his absence. Nobody knows anything 
 about liim, except his name." 
 
 "Xo, nothing; though everybody likes him I assxu'e 
 you." 
 
 "And who is there to stand if Aldry dies, and Hugh 
 is absent?" 
 
 "I don't know at all. Lord Ewyas said they were 
 all in perplexity. I dare say you will hear everything 
 about it when they know you are come back." 
 
 "Oh, somebody will apply for my vote no doubt." 
 
 "Yes, yes; we shall have the ti'ouble of a contest. 
 Lord Ewyas is coming to me the day after to-morrow. 
 You will both dine with me, won't you, and Janet too, 
 who is grown so beautiful, I am astonished at her." 
 
 "Oh no, no; that's been settled long ago." 
 
 Lady Lucy looked disappointed. "I thought," she 
 began, "when you returned you would have changed 
 old habits?" 
 
 ""Why so? You forget that we have been living 
 on day by day, though to you we seem to have skipped 
 a year." 
 
 "Well, I'm glad you've come back at all events," 
 said Lady Lucy, rising to go. 
 
 Mr. Ferroll went -with her into the hall; there she 
 looked wistfully at him, while prolonging the putting 
 on of her clogs, and at last began hesitatingly: "Do 
 you know what a very strange thing has happened in 
 the village; do you know who is come back?"
 
 208 PAUL FEUBOLL. 
 
 "Oh, the old woman Martha Franks, yon mean." 
 
 "My housekeeper, who is new since then^ you know, 
 came to me and said one Martha Franks asked to be put 
 on the broth list. I said no, on no account; but I did 
 not say why." 
 
 "She must have been astonished at your prompt un- 
 charitableness." 
 
 "But Mrs. Ferroll knows nothing about it, does 
 she?" 
 
 "Certainly it is not a subject upon which any judi- 
 cious person would wish to entertain her." 
 
 "I am sure I shall not," said Lady Lucy; "and the 
 girls know nothing." 
 
 "About the trial of her husband, I suppose you 
 mean; and his acquittal, and this woman's freedom from 
 suspicion, trial, and acquittal?" 
 
 "Yes, I believe so; but it is a very unpleasant thing, 
 for a poor woman like that to come from America, and 
 bring up all the old story again with her." 
 
 "Most uncommonly so; and I dare say I shall be 
 spared it after the first moment of interest." 
 
 "Certainly; but I could not help speaking of it once 
 you know." 
 
 "Certainly, to be sure. Janet, Lady Lucy is wait- 
 ing;" and so mth good byes and kind words, they 
 parted. Janet was very happy to see her friends again, 
 and indulge in girls' talk with companions of her own 
 age. She also heard of Hugh; and as the young Bart- 
 letts were very unsuspicious, literal young ladies, they 
 had not formed any such definite idea as that of their 
 brother becoming the husband of their childhood's com- 
 panion, but only vague notions of Hugh sending her 
 messages, and tliinking her prettier than he thought
 
 PATH. PEKKOLI, 209 
 
 them; and thus the l3ctter-instructcd Janet could talk 
 freely to them about him, and learn a great deal more 
 about him than they knew themselves. 
 
 Mrs. FerroU also was glad to be at home. She was 
 not ill, but her strength was reduced from the old 
 standard, before any attack on her nerves had shaken it. 
 She was open to impressions of e^il, and resembled the 
 blossoms of a peach-tree, whose life depends upon no 
 frost coming. There was a feeling of shelter and of rest 
 in being at the end of travel; in being among all that 
 was her OAvn; in the many luxuries of home; though 
 frost, and snow, and cold, bleak winds prevailed outside, 
 the warm hearth, the low, luxurious chair, the curtains 
 amply di'aped over the windows, hothouse iiowers on the 
 tables, seemed a more genial climate than that of a 
 stranger's country. She expressed this feeling to her 
 husband, as they sate together that evening. "I am 
 happy, Paul. I have a feeling of good about me, a kind 
 of light of serene days. I am anxious about nothing." 
 
 "My bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne," said he. 
 
 "I don't like you to say that. Romeo's was a false 
 presentiment. Mine shall be true. Have not I every- 
 thing I love -svithin arm's length — you, and Janet?" 
 she added, stretching her hand towards the door, out of 
 which Janet had lately gone. 
 
 "Yes, yes; let it be so. This actiaal moment is as 
 Btill and calm, as if there had never been, could 
 never be storms. This is a good moment; let us en- 
 joy it." 
 
 "Storms there have been indeed," said Mrs. Ferroll. 
 "When I thiiik of the danger you have been in, and 
 how I might have been here alone — oh, my dearest 
 husband, I don't know how to be glad enough." 
 
 Paul Ferroll. 14
 
 210 PAUL FEEKOLL. 
 
 ",Yet the things wc are somest for, arc in fact the 
 great good sometimes," said Mr. FerroU; "only not see- 
 ing theD^ to be such, prevents us from acknowledging it. 
 AVho knows but what, if the Providence over you had 
 taken me away — if the angel of your destiny had 
 stooped and completed the sacrifice — who can tell, 
 Elinor — who can tell, my Elinor, wli^t future pains 
 might have been spared you? Nay, dearest, I say who 
 can tell — %rho is an unknown person — Mr. "Who; 
 Sir Thomas Who; Who of Who Hall. He knows; but 
 I don't." 
 
 "If he knows anything, he knows I should die with 
 you." 
 
 "No, no; you would not — you should not. Life 
 is a fair open sea for you still — for us both — your 
 child was born before you were twenty, and now she is 
 but just seventeen. You are yoimg, you are beautiful, 
 you are in the perfection of your feeHngs and intellect. 
 I am older than you." 
 
 "Just eight years older than I. I was a child when 
 you loTed me first." 
 
 "What would my soul give if that first could come 
 again! We hold our fortunes in our hand at one time 
 of our life, and I threw mine away. Aye, what would 
 I give if we could be as we were, when your sweet 
 girlish face looked at me in that innocent way! Between 
 that time and the moment when we stood together at 
 the church's altar, what moments of torment, of mad- 
 ness; what darkness, what despair! And tliis weak little 
 frame, this beautiful painted bark, what a marvel that 
 it came safely through such a tempest." 
 
 "Well, well, it is all the same now. Whatever the
 
 PAUL FEKEOLL. 211 
 
 bark went through, here it is in its safe haven," she 
 said, resting her head on his shoulder. 
 
 He clasped her to his heart; but at the same moment 
 cast a look upward, which never crossed his face when 
 her eye rested upon it. "Your will was always an 
 omnipotent will," she said, "whether to harm yourself 
 or obtain good." 
 
 "That's true, Elinor; yet sometimes I have willed 
 to be guided by such poor mean agents." 
 
 "You have willed strongly, to be governed by a 
 weak cause." 
 
 "Aye indeed; it is the fate I have made for my- 
 self." 
 
 "What do you mean?" she said, smiling; "am /that 
 weak causer" 
 
 "Aye, my Elinor — that's my good destiny. Do you 
 not guide me with a thread?" 
 
 "Yes; when you have a mind to go my way." 
 
 "There's a poor old creature, mamma, of the name 
 of Franks, come to the Broom cottages," said Janet, re- 
 turning from a walk. "She lodges with the waggoner's 
 wife. They want broth for her." 
 
 "Is she ill?" said her father. 
 
 Janet was surprised at the question, for it was very 
 seldom that her father took an interest in the lesser con- 
 cerns of his neighbours. 
 
 "Very iU." 
 
 "Going to die, Jeannie?" 
 
 "Oh no, papa, I hope not." 
 
 "Uut the waggoner's Aviic thinks so?" 
 
 li«
 
 212 TATTL FEKKOLL. 
 
 "Those people always think or say so, when any one 
 is sick." 
 
 "Give her what she wants. Let her be taken care 
 of. You must not neglect her," said Mr. Ferroll. 
 
 Janet was again surprised, when in the course of the 
 day she went to see her father's injunction carried out, 
 to find he had been there himself, and had taken exces- 
 sive pains that the best medical advice, and all kinds 
 of necessary remedies, should be provided for the old 
 woman. After all, however, she had grown up in the 
 habit of carrying comforts and remedies to the cottages 
 with her governess; and there was nothing unnatural in 
 anyone else doing it, only her father generally was too 
 busy with other things. 
 
 The villagers themselves were surprised at the care 
 taken of the old woman. "To be sure they are unac- 
 countable kind to you, Martha, at the Tower. You've 
 everything like Mr. Aldry himself. Dr. Swine came to 
 you by the Squire's order, before he went to Squire 
 Aldry." 
 
 "Aye, to be sure; and a courageous dose he gave me. 
 It did great execution." 
 
 "And you know," said the other gossip, "Mrs. Poole 
 told me herself, in the room at the Tower, that the 
 Squire is quite in a fidget-like to have strong broth for 
 you. I was taking tip the eggs, and she was counting 
 'em oiit,and paying me Is. 2c?. a dozen, and she said to 
 the kitchen-maid, Lord, Lucy, see the broth is good for 
 that old 'oman." 
 
 "Though I am none older than I ought to be," said 
 Martha Franks; "no more than she herself." 
 
 "And it is good," said the other old woman, supping 
 of it. "Do look up, Martha, and take a cup."
 
 PAUL PEEEOLI. 213 
 
 Martha obeyed, and vrith a handkerchief tied round 
 her head, and hanging do\ni in two long comers, im- 
 bibed the good things provided for her from the Tower. 
 "I never knew the Sqiiii'e take so much care before," 
 said the gossip. "Miss Janet often is among the poor; 
 though when I was in the fever, she refused me wine, 
 that's sure, at the same time old Dick had enough, and 
 to spare; but tlie Squire never do take the least notice 
 till now. You was about the first madam, was not you, 
 Martha — that's it, I suppose." 
 
 "I suppose I was," said Martha. 
 
 "And you was acquaint perhaps with things in the 
 family?" 
 
 "I don't speak of what I have known," said Martha 
 — "though people did set store by me perhaps, as you 
 may have some judgment now." 
 
 "Aye, the gi'catest people find out sometimes they 
 have need of the Kttle," said the gossip. 
 
 Old Martha nodded her head affirmatively. 
 
 "But then why did the master send you and your 
 husband over sea? We all thought he wanted you away." 
 
 "If he did, I wanted to come back," said Martha — 
 "and here I am, and you see, if he ben't enamoured to 
 see me again." 
 
 "He's desperate good to you, that's true; but he's a 
 very strange gentleman, and takes whims sometimes." 
 
 Neither Martha nor Mi". Aldiy fulfilled the expecta- 
 tions of their friends by dying at this moment. The 
 potent demon of physic can often chai-m the depai-ting 
 spirit, and bind it for awliilc to the bleak, barren edges 
 of Ufe. And so it was with the rich member of Parlia- 
 ment, whose station in Ufe commanded for him whatever 
 the luxuries of iUness, such as they are, consist of; and
 
 214 PAUL FERKOLIi. 
 
 with the poor cottager, whose life a caprice of her rich 
 neighbour sought to defend by every possible act and 
 resource which could prevent its forfeiture. Still, as it 
 seemed, both made little by little an advance towards 
 "the silent shore," and after every wrestle with death, 
 from wliich their ally the doctor drove him discomiitted, 
 the observing eye might see that even in defeat death 
 had gained some minute footing towards the fortress 
 which he was ultimately to take. At least with Mr. Al- 
 dry this was becoming apparent; and the consequence 
 was, not what the newspapers announced respecting the 
 extreme regret at losing the respected member, but a 
 great anxiety to know who was to succeed him. 
 
 The eyes of the party had been cast more than once 
 towards Mr. Fcrroll. His political opinions were well 
 known, and he was a man of notoriously independent 
 habits, upon any and every family in the county. He 
 was an active member of all xmblic business, a man of 
 high mtellectual r^utation, of a fortune sufficient for the 
 position; and subscriptions for the expenses of election 
 had been already offered. The great doubt whether he 
 would accept the offer, added perhaps to the interest 
 with which his name was canvassed. The party was in 
 great want of a representative, and several of the in- 
 fluential men, who failed to agree about other names, 
 had no reasons to quarrel over this. Mr. Ferroll himself 
 was not without suspicions of their intentions; gossip had 
 already brought the report to the Tower, Lady Lucy 
 Bartlett having delivered it with much eagerness to Mrs. 
 Ferroll; but she, from her previous experience of her 
 husband's dogged rejection of all advances tending to 
 bring him into association with his fellow-countymen, 
 had rejected the idea, and given assxu'ance that it was
 
 PArL PEEHOLL. 215 
 
 out of the question. Wlieu we know people best, and 
 think that upon a particular point we can answer for 
 their conduct vdth certainty, sometimes they exactly act, 
 or will to act, in the contrary du'ection. 
 
 One morning Mr. FcrroU's servant answered his hasty 
 question, wliich was less gracious in form than in. sub- 
 stance, "Is that old woman better?" with the news 
 that the mixse had been up to say she thought she was 
 dying. 
 
 Mr. Fen'oll's face was impassable to those with whom 
 he talked; his actions, however, implied much interest 
 in the news, for he said at once, "Send for Dr. Swine. 
 Let him see the old woman du'ectly. Poole is to go 
 down to see if anything can be done for her. 0, omni- 
 potent death," he murmured to himself, as the servant 
 went out; "end, end this." 
 
 That morning, before early dawn, Mr. Aldry had 
 died. Breakfast was not yet ready at the Tower when a 
 messenger came there, from Lord Ewyas, being the re- 
 quest of the party to Mr. FeiToU to stand for the county. 
 "We are to have a private meeting," it went on, "at 
 two o'clock to-day, and by that time make up your mind 
 if it be possible, my dear su', to do us this service. I 
 send to you the very first moment in order to give time 
 for that deliberation which I hope Avill cud in a favour- 
 able answer to your partj^, and I ti-ust so honourable a 
 call, and at a time of such peculiar necessity, will not 
 be unattended to, when we know how highly ^qualified 
 you are to render us this important scr\'icc &c." Mr. 
 rcrroll held this letter in liis hand long considering, and 
 his face was animated, his eyes looked freely forward as 
 tliough the thoughts worked liealtliily in liis brain. Once 
 more the door opened and he turned hastily roimd.
 
 21G PAXIL FEEEOLL. 
 
 "If you please, sir, Mr. Swine will attend immediate- 
 ly," said the servant. 
 
 "Humph," said Mr. Ferroll, with anything but a de- 
 Lighted voice; and it was some moments before he re- 
 sumed his more agreeable reflection. "When he went to 
 breakfast, he held out the letter to his wife, and said, 
 "See what they ask of me." 
 
 Mrs. Ferroll smiled. "Ah, well, they little know 
 how vainly they ask." 
 
 "You think it would not do?" 
 
 "Nay, if you think but have you any idea? 
 
 you are by far the best man for the thing — but you 
 always " 
 
 "Always may end sometimes. Should you like to 
 see me proud of the honour, bearing in my breast the 
 proud thought of representing such an unparalleled 
 county?" 
 
 "Ah, you are laughing at them now, Paul." 
 
 "No, I am not, really — look at the letter. It is 
 very well put, is not it? and I could do it well." 
 
 "That I am sure you could, and I should be happy 
 if I could see you known as you ought to be known — 
 oh, Paul, do agree to it." 
 
 "I must think a little bit longer, I must have some 
 further facts to go upon, and then you shall know. Some 
 tea now, Jeannie. Have you been out this morning?" 
 
 "No, papa." 
 
 "Oh, I thought perhaps you had been down to the 
 Broom. I have known you take such fits of charity." 
 
 "I will, directly after breakfast, if you like," said 
 Janet; "the old nurse was here this morning for wine, 
 and said she could not live through the day."
 
 PAUL FEEEOLL. 217 
 
 "Don't disturb her then; what could be done for the 
 old creature has been done. It is no fault of mine 
 that she dies, is it?" 
 
 "Xo, indeed — no, indeed; they all say she must 
 have died weeks ago, if you had not helped her so." 
 
 "AVould she?" said Mr. FerroU. 
 
 Mr. FeiToll took no one into his counsel; no one 
 knew whether or not there was any agitation within his 
 breast respecting the proposal made to liim. He was 
 out of doors and in action, but whoever had to speak to 
 him, found him as usual, clear, determined, sure of 
 what he himself willed. What he did seemed very 
 foreign to what he had to determine; it seemed a most 
 unlikely thing for a man to do who had but an hour 
 more to resolve upon a purely personal question, and 
 that one which must influence all his future views. In- 
 stead of attending to the request of the county, he went 
 down to the old woman's cottage. Here at the gate he 
 saw Dr. Swine's horse tied — it had trodden the soil 
 into fuiTows, seeming to have been long waiting there 
 in the cold. ^Mr. FeiToll passed it, crossed the naiTow 
 garden and pushed open the door. The women were 
 kneeling by the bed, the doctor bending over it. He 
 looked up when the door opened — "The crisis is 
 over," he said, "she will live — I came just in time; 
 but now plainly she is in a better way to recover than 
 she has been at all." 
 
 Mr. FerroU said no word tliat was intelligible — 
 something lie uttered wliich was enough for a sick room 
 in a critical state, and going out again, softly shut the 
 door. Then by a way over the garden terrace which 
 was in fact no way, only a mere strong scramble, he 
 inished back to the house, snatched a sheet of paper and
 
 218 PAUL FEHEOIL. 
 
 wrote a few woi'ds of decided strong refusal. He com- 
 missioned a servant to take it — and when he was 
 alone again, leaned his head on his arms, which were 
 flung along the table. He lifted it again to wipe off 
 the cold sweat which had burst out over his forehead. 
 
 So because an old woman recovered from her illness 
 a clever man refused to represent his county in Par- 
 liament.
 
 PAUL FEREOLL. 
 
 219 
 
 CHAPTER ^TE. 
 
 Me. Feuboli went out of his house, half an hour 
 after the messenger was gone — it was a miserable 
 winter day; excessively cold, and the air was saturated 
 with moisture, which clung to every object, and drowned 
 all the countiy in a dim gray haze. Something had 
 taken place in his mind in consequence of the cu'cum- 
 stances of the day, however insufficient they seemed to 
 jiroducc such an effect, which agitated and bent his 
 spirit, like the forest ti-ee in a tempest. He walked on, 
 entering the Bartlett park by an obscure path, and pur- 
 sued his way through leafless damp woods till he had 
 forced through them to a large ijiece of water, which 
 was kept quiet for the sake of wild fowl, and which no 
 human creature at this time was likely to approach. 
 Here he sat down on the trunk of a small tree which 
 had been torn up by the wind, and which lay partly in 
 the water, partly on land, fi-onting the desolate scene. 
 The mind at times is so oppressed by its own biu-then 
 that it seems imable to take thought for its companion 
 the body; it rather gives itself up to the mechanical im- 
 pressions of the body, and like two whom fate has 
 joined and inclination severed, they abide together, but 
 neither does its office friendly, to the other. Thus he 
 sat, certain that he was unseen; and released, therefore, 
 from all necessity of acting a part — the dark spirit 
 communing with itself, the listless body abandoning
 
 220 PAUL FEEEOLl. 
 
 itself to all the painful impressions of cold and deso- 
 lation. No word escaped his lips; liis eyes gazed un- 
 moved on the black water; his folded hands lay list- 
 lessly on his knee; hours passed which he did not 
 mark; the moon, seen early iu the winter evening, 
 began to struggle faintly through the fog. Then the 
 chaiu of thought snapped; or the spirit having had this 
 tormented sleep, woke again to a new feverish life; he 
 rose, and like a man able to cast off one half of his 
 burthen, and girding himself to carry the other, moved 
 again, strengthened himself, summoned his spirits. He 
 went home hastily — passed at once into the room 
 where he heard the voice of his wife and Janet. All 
 was bright, warm, and prepared for enjoyment. 
 
 "Where have you been this cold, dark day?" said 
 Mrs. FeiToll. "Janet and I have been enjoying life by 
 the fire, but not thoroughly till now:" and she made 
 way for him in the warmest hearth-nook. 
 
 "Not till I came," he said, smiling. 
 
 "No, certainly; when I hear your foot in the hall, 
 things go well; then I am happy — not till then." 
 
 "Yet you have heard it nearly twenty years." 
 
 "But even less glad to hear it at first than now." 
 
 "Now? this very now? do you know what it is? do 
 you know it is the last day of the year?" 
 
 "To be sure I do: here is a silk chain which Janet 
 is finishing for you to-morrow, on account of the be- 
 ginning of the new year." 
 
 Janet blushed deeply: she had been thinking whether 
 her father, who was generally a great neglector of days 
 and seasons, would scarcely accept it; whether he would 
 deride her present. 
 
 "Give it to me to-night, Janet, why wait for to-
 
 PAUL FEEHOLL. 221 
 
 morro'n'? it is finislied, I see, a little mimite atom of a 
 clasp put on, all very delicate and neat; to-daj^ is our 
 own, but not to-moiTow. I will have it this minute." 
 
 He took it from his daughter's hand as he spoke, 
 and kissed her forehead. She hesitated before she said, 
 "And a happy new year to you, papa." 
 
 "A happy old one, at all events," said he, "as much 
 as remains. Come, come, life is delightful here. I'll 
 pile the fire till it is as warm as June; I would bum 
 cedar logs if I had them. At this moment I think 
 I would set my Cellini's carved Apollo on fire, if I 
 wanted a match to Hght a candle." 
 
 Mrs. Ferroll laughed. "The dismal day gives you 
 spirits," she said. 
 
 "Oh, no, not the dismal day, but the last day, as 
 you call it; the bright room, the bright flowers, the 
 pretty wife, especially after all the darkness of the fog 
 and storm. Elinor, you should light this lamp to-night; 
 do you remember when I gave it you?" 
 
 "Paul, I can't forget that" 
 
 Janet looked as if she longed to know, but did not 
 ask. It was a beautiful alabaster vase, wrought in 
 great perfection, and preserved by assiduous care in 
 the same beauty which it had at first; it had a lamp 
 inside. 
 
 Mr. FeiToU took up a flask of perfumed oil which 
 stood in a jar on the table, and poured it into the lamp. 
 A Httle floating Ught was ready at hand, he set it on 
 fire, and the light spread, looking like rising moonbeams 
 over the space around. "That's right," he said; "now 
 go and make yourself exquisite for dinner. You have a 
 gown of sober velvet, Elinor, put it on, will you? and 
 don't think about the cold. Women ought to adorn
 
 222 PAUL FEB.KOLL. 
 
 themselves, and look beautiful; people don't suffer when 
 they are doing right." 
 
 He sent them to dress: and he desired his butler to 
 bring some wine for dinner wliich had been sent him 
 from the best cellars of Burgimdy, as a costly return 
 for the pleasure a book of his had given there. He 
 himself had forgotten it till now; the butler had thought 
 too much of it ever to find an occasion illustrious enough 
 to produce it. To-day brought the potent and high-pe- 
 digreed spirit to light. He asked for more wax lights 
 in the room; he went into his green-house, and gathered 
 a heap of camellias, which he put into a Dresden bowl, 
 and set it on the table. ■ 
 
 When they sat down his soul flowed freely as the 
 wine ; and Janet herself — the watchful , shy Janet — 
 laughed out beyond control, at the witty nonsense he 
 talked. - "So that hour is gone, too," he said, as they 
 rose to go to the drawing-room. "Stay one moment, I 
 will finish my friend's Burgundy; why should profaner 
 lips touch it?" 
 
 He poured a full measure, and then taking a spoon 
 from the table, filled it, and poured it into a glass be- 
 fore his wife, and was laying down the spoon, but an 
 involuntary movement of her lips was perceived by him, 
 and he took it up again, and did the same for Janet. 
 "jSTo healths, no healths — don't drink my health, 
 Janet." 
 
 "I was not going to do it, papa," she said, colouring 
 \^olently, and her eyes illuminated by moisture, for it 
 did not come to tears. 
 
 "I'll do it though for thee," he said, smiling. "The 
 little bark is towed along, Elinor, in our wake, and gets 
 hid in the waves sometimes, but it has its own affairs,
 
 PAUL FEKEOLL. 223 
 
 has not it?" Mrs. FeiToU pressed Janet tenderly to her 
 side. Janet was embarrassed: she took np some water 
 to pour into the basin of camellias. 
 
 "You had better not," said ilr. Ferroll, "they will 
 grow yellow at the edges, and lose all the beauty of 
 their first moments. Let them be beautiful, and die — 
 die on the scullion's heap of ashes, though they have 
 lived in a poet's parlour." So sa}'ing, and ^u-ithout look- 
 ijig again at the flowers, he walked by his wife's side 
 into the drawing-room, where the alabaster lamp burned 
 softly. Here they sat before the glowing logs of wood, 
 which crackled and flamed cheerfully. 
 
 They had a habit of reading each a favourite book 
 after dinner for an hour or so, till they were ready for 
 tea; though Janet would often at that time be employed 
 by her father to copy a MS., or make a plan; or, on 
 her own accoiint, would work at some pretty collar or 
 cuff, an employment which pleased her father's eye, 
 owing to the grace of the employment which became 
 her feminine and exquisite beauty. To-night he brought 
 her a few verses to put into her neatest handwriting, 
 which was rather a slow operation, but which she 
 executed in a mamier that gave the copy an independent 
 merit of its own. These verses were to go to London 
 by the post to-morrow. 
 
 "Mr. — wants something of mine, and I found 
 these in my desk, and he shall have them. I'll tell 
 you where they rose, Elinor; at Gaeta, years ago, when 
 we came across the bay from Mola, and landed by 
 Cicero's villa. Do you remember as we went up the 
 steep path to the ijin, seeing an Englishwoman sitting 
 just in the angle of one of the tunis? The gardener's 
 Avife who was serving on the seat at the top, said the
 
 224 PAUL FEEEOLL, 
 
 lady was lame, and she did not know how she had 
 managed to get down there; but she had been sitting 
 quite still on the same spot for an hour and a-half, 
 Avhile her friends were in a boat on the bay." 
 
 "I recollect; the woman said she had three or four 
 times pecjoed over the rock, but the lady always seemed 
 contentissima, come se stesse in Paradise." 
 
 "That 's the exact expression that struck me; it 
 came into verse the other day. Read it, Janet — no, 
 give them me." 
 
 "Gaeta's orange groves were there, 
 
 Half circling round the sun-kiss'd sea; 
 And all were gone, and left the fair 
 Rich gardeu-solitiide to me. 
 
 II. 
 
 My feeble foot refused to tread 
 The rugged pathway to the bay; 
 
 Down the steep rock I saw them thread, 
 And gain the boat and glide away. 
 
 III. 
 
 And then the thirst grew strong in me 
 To taste yet farther scones so bright — 
 
 To do like those who wander'd free, 
 And share their exquisite delight. 
 
 IV. 
 
 With careful trouble then, and pain, 
 I pass'd a little down the hill. 
 
 Each step obtaln'd was hard-earned gain , 
 Each step before, seem'd distant still. 
 
 v. 
 
 But when I reach'd at last the trees 
 Which see that lovely scene complete , 
 
 I sat there all at peace and ease 
 A monarch of the mossy seat.
 
 PAUL FEEEOLL. 225 
 
 VI. 
 
 Above me hung the golden glow 
 
 Of fruit which is at one with tlowcrs; 
 
 Below me gleam'd the ocean tiow 
 Like sapphires in tlic mid-day hours. 
 
 VII. 
 
 A passing-by there was of wings; 
 
 The silent, tlower-lilie butterflies; 
 Tlie sudden beetle as it springs 
 
 Full of the life of southern skies. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 A sound there was of words afloat, 
 Of sailors, and of children blent, 
 
 At work and play beside a boat; 
 Sounds which the distance niix'd and spent. 
 
 IX. 
 
 A brooding silence too was there 
 
 Of mid-day, and a wide-stretch'd bound; 
 
 And I sat still, with open ear. 
 That drank the silence and tlic sound. 
 
 X. 
 
 It was an hour, of bliss to die; 
 
 But not to sleep; for ever came 
 The warm, thin air, and passing by 
 
 Fann'd Sense and Soul, and Heart to flame. 
 
 XI. 
 
 The sight I saw that noontide, -grew 
 A portion of my mem'ry's pride; 
 
 And oh, how often 1 renew 
 
 The beauty of the steep hill-side. 
 
 XII. 
 
 It comes, when by the northern fire 
 
 I sit and shiver in its heat; 
 While with vain longing I aspire , 
 To rest upon my rocky seat. 
 Paul Fcrroll. 15
 
 226 PAUL FEKEOLI. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Alongiiiff, such, thou gracious land, 
 
 As thou must ever leave on those 
 Who bask on thy enchanted strand, 
 
 And see thy heavenly shapes and hues. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And if, methinks, to roam and climb, 
 
 At ray free will, to me were giv'n 
 O'er such a land, in such a clime. 
 
 It would be, what will be, in heaven." 
 
 "They are very pretty," said Elinor; "you have 
 put yourself into the situation as if it had been your 
 
 own." 
 
 "That's a compliment; but that's the quality which 
 is wanted for an artist, and you are the woman to ap- 
 preciate it. You know that a poet conceives — does 
 not describe." 
 
 "To be sure; Shakspeare and Scott were not Juliet 
 and Dirk Hatterick." 
 
 "Aye, Scott never killed a Kennedy, though he 
 conceived a Dirk Hatterick seeing him -\vriggle on the 
 strand; but as far as that goes, I could draw Ken- 
 nedy from experience, could not 1? do you recollect 
 my' telling you that this hand IdUed James Sken- 
 frith?" 
 
 "Oh, my dearest, don't talk of that. I don't mind 
 most things, but I can'i bear that." 
 
 "Can't you, Elinor? can't you bear me for ha^dng 
 blood on my hand?" 
 
 "But you have not; what you did was in self-de- 
 fence, in defence of others — that makes the whole 
 difference." 
 
 "Then all depends upon " 
 
 "But you have not."
 
 PAUL FEEKOLL. 227 
 
 "To please me, ho-werer, suppose I liad. I -svant to 
 know what you would tliink of me imder all circum- 
 stances — that circumstance among others " He 
 
 was going on when he felt his arm touched by Janet's 
 fearful hand; he turned, and saw her look appealingly 
 at her mother, and sign him to be silent. "What is it, 
 Jenny? what are you making mouths at?" 
 
 Janet even trembled at having her silence thus put 
 into words, but being discovered, she spoke out. "It 
 does mamma harm," she said. 
 
 Mr. FerroU laughed. "Does it? then I won't do it, 
 Httlc defender. Come, come, all this is nonsense. Let 
 me hear some music tliis holiday; I want some music." 
 It was Mrs. FeiToll who made the music, Janet never 
 played or sang to licr father, for ho had not patience 
 for an inferior talent, when a superior one was present. 
 Mrs. FerroU pleased his taste and feeling beyond all 
 others, and a few songs he Kkcd to have over and over 
 again, a few passages on the pianoforte; seeming to 
 hear in their meaning a voice which none else heard. 
 "This is a heavenly pleasure," he said, as she repeated 
 one of these bewitching pieces of music. "Again, my 
 darling, again." Janet, the defender, looked beseech- 
 ingly. "Oh no, she is not tired; people don't get tu-ed 
 by doing what they do so well. It is a very bad com- 
 ])liment to say 'I am afraid you will tire yourself.' 
 People never like music mucli who think the performer 
 is tired;" and so Mrs. FeiToll sang and played till past 
 eleven. 
 
 "I am tired now, however," she said, rising, "and I 
 will shut up the pianoforte. The old year is -scry 
 nearly gone, the* fire is low, the lamp — no, my ala- 
 baster lamp beams bi-ightly still." 
 
 15*
 
 228 PAUL PEEROIX. 
 
 "Oh yes I mil put more logs on tlie fire, and the 
 lamp has abundance of oil. It is only ^dolence that 
 could put out its light. We burned it the first evening 
 we were married, did not we, Elinor?" 
 
 "Certainly, most certainly; and not very often since. 
 I could reckon every time. I wonder what made you 
 
 light it to-night?" ^ j i i 
 
 Mr. FerroU made no answer. The dry wood had 
 speedily burned up, and the room was bright y illu- 
 minated by it. "Let us look out," he^said 'Let us 
 see the old year's departure among the stars._ He 
 opened the window, and they stood together ookmg out 
 on the night. The wind had risen, and blew wildly 
 among the trees; the clouds chased along the sky, and 
 the moon seemed swiftly walking among them, ihe 
 heavy curtains were swayed by the breeze. At a httie 
 distance rose the tower of the church, and a hght was 
 seen through the narrow windows. ^ .. „ -.i 
 
 "They toll out the age of a person who dies, said 
 Ml'. ren4; "are they going to toll? Aye, does not that 
 sound like it?" he added, as the clock began to repeat 
 the quarters, and then with a deeper note, the number 
 twelve of the hour. The twelfth sti^oke of the clock 
 was struck; a few seconds after the bells of the church 
 broke out mth all their might a jolly peai. 
 
 "Pshaw!" said Mr. Fen'oll; "perhaps the clock is 
 wrong; other clocks are not so fast." At that moment 
 they heard in the room a slight crash; the alabaster 
 lamp had slipped from its pedestal, and lay broken on 
 
 *^^ '^What's that? oh, my lamp!" cried Mrs. Terroll; 
 
 "my dear lamp!" , , 
 
 "How could it be?" said Janet; "was it the wind?
 
 PAUL FEEEOIL, 229 
 
 "The lamp is broken — the oil run to waste — 
 the year ended — the clock was right," said Mr. 
 FerroU. 
 
 "Mamma, it it only in two pieces, With isinglass 
 cement we might mend it, perhaps." 
 
 "Xo, Jeannie, better leave it," said her father; "piece 
 it as you will, it will always have been broken." 
 
 The new year began to wear on its coui'se day by 
 day, which so soon brings one far away from the close 
 of the old, and commencement of the new. Mr. Fen'oll 
 was busy with an important pamphlet, and in the oc- 
 cupation it presented, recun'ed no more to the unusual 
 excitement of the 31st of December. He bore patiently 
 Ids wife's and Janet's experiments on the alabaster vase, 
 which A\-ith great delicacy of finger they put together, 
 but as he had said, no mending could restore the fii'st 
 beauty. Neither would he replace it with another, though 
 at tlus time he was more than usually profuse in luxu- 
 ries, and seemed intent upon enjoying life in all the 
 points it could be made to present. 
 
 One morning while he was lingering after breakfast 
 in the octagon hall, where they were talking and looking 
 at engravings, the sound of the bell announced a visitor, 
 and tlie servant who answered it, came back to say Mr. 
 ^lonkton, an attorney of the neighbouring town, wished 
 to speak to Mr. Ferroll. 
 
 ".So there's an oid of pleasure," said ^fr. FciToll, 
 laying down tlie print; "but I'm glad 1 delayed here so 
 long. I ought to have been in my room twenty minutes 
 ago working, and 1 lia\e given them to myself for
 
 230 PAUL FEEEOII. 
 
 play up here. I am glad I gained that twenty minutes 
 of play." 
 
 "Is this man going to stay all day then?" 
 
 "JSTay, I don't know; he may keep me a long while." 
 And he went to his own room, where Mr. Monkton 
 awaited him. 
 
 After the conmion greeting, Mr. Monkton began his 
 errand -mih. some embarrassment. "I'm extremely sorry 
 to trouble you, sir, upon a painful subject. "What I 
 have to say, will bring very disagreeable impressions 
 before you. You will excuse me." 
 
 "Say whatever you please — what is it, Mr. 
 Monkton?" 
 
 "It relates, sir," said the attorney with great hesi- 
 tation, "to the to Mrs to the late Mrs. 
 
 Ferroll, sir." 
 
 "Exactly, sir." Mr. Ferroll said nothing more, and 
 Mr. Monkton had to recommence the errand. He did 
 not do so till he had fumbled in his pocket and brought 
 out a small parcel wliich he opened. It contained a 
 gold locket, the outside ornamented with a device in 
 enamel, the reverse containing hair. 
 
 "This ornament, sir — do you recollect it as be- 
 longing to her?" 
 
 "No, I don't." 
 
 "The old woman Franks had the folly, it might make 
 one smile, to wear it at a neighbour's tea-drinking. She 
 it is who was in your house at the time of Mrs. Ferroll's 
 death, I tliink — the first Mrs. Ferroll; and the woman 
 who brought it to me, said it was one among many 
 which are secreted in her drawer." 
 
 "Yes, and what next?" 
 
 "The suspicion is that she stole them."
 
 PAUL JEBBOIX. 231 
 
 "I^ot unlikely; but I made a parcel of all the orna- 
 ments I knew of, and sent them to her brother." 
 
 "Together Trith a list of her effects?" 
 
 "I think so; a little book containing a list which I 
 found." 
 
 "Yes, sir, which I have seen; and this ornament 
 appears to be specified among them. By the kindness 
 of Mr. Gordon, I have examined the Hst." 
 
 "Then it probably is as you suppose." 
 
 "But, sir, in that case, suspicion falls upon her 
 of " 
 
 "Of the murder — do you think so?" 
 
 "Don't you, sir?" 
 
 "Xo, I don't. The husband was tried and ac- 
 quitted." 
 
 "But not the wife." 
 
 ""Well, sir, do as you please." 
 
 "I am very sorry, Mr. Ferroll." 
 
 "For what, sir?" 
 
 "I am aware it is most annoying to you." 
 
 "AnnojTng perhaps is not the word; but it does not 
 matter what the thing signifies to me. You will of 
 course do exactly as you think right." 
 
 "It is almost a pity, sir, the woman did not die when 
 she was so ill. It would have been a happy thing," 
 continued Mr. Monkton seeing he was not answered, 
 "if the subject could have been at rest for ever. You 
 have been most kind to her, sir, otherwise " 
 
 "Yes, I have kept her alive," said Mr. FerroU, 
 "She was so serious an annoyance, as you call it, that 
 I could heartily have desired her death, and for that 
 reason took extravagant pains to keep her alive; there
 
 232 TAUL FEKEOLI. 
 
 she is now to explain how these ohjccts got into her 
 possession." 
 
 "Her neighbours have had their attention excited 
 not only by the trinkets they have discovered, but 
 by expressions used by her — in fact I consider there 
 is evidence enough to issue a warrant for her appre- 
 hension." 
 
 "Be it so," said Mr. Ferroll, rising. "You don't 
 ask me to be active in this business I suppose. At all 
 events, I absolutely decline any share whatever." 
 
 ;Mr. Monkton rose also. "In that case, sir, I will go 
 to Mr. — . Perhaps we shall find it necessary to beg 
 you to identify the trinkets." 
 
 "What you please. As to the one you showed me, 
 I have no recollection of it wliatever, but that proves 
 nothing. It is many years since those things have been 
 absent from my memory." 
 
 Mr. Monkton took leave, and ]Mr. Ferroll turned his 
 attention strongly to the work he was finishing, and 
 wrote with an excited mind and a free flow of ideas for 
 several hours. At the end of that time his wife came 
 into the room with her cloak and bonnet. ""Writing, 
 Paul," she said, "I thought you had been detained 
 by Mr. Monkton — but you are only writing. You 
 were to have walked with me to Esco. You have for- 
 gotten me." 
 
 "jS'o, I did not forget, but it is necessaiy to finish 
 this tiling; and I found my wits work freely tliis 
 morning." 
 
 "Do you want to send it by post time?" 
 
 "Not so soon as that; no, I have more time than 
 that, but I don't know how much. Never mind; I'll 
 put all by now, and go with you — here put your
 
 PATH FEEKOLL. 233 
 
 arm under mine, and once more, once more — poor 
 pretty Elinor " 
 
 "^YhJ poor?" 
 
 "Well, leave out poor — say pretty, and come on." 
 They went out together — and alone — it was very 
 seldom that Janet accompanied them — and walked 
 quietly along, enjoying the soft -tt-inter day. There was 
 a clear sun; and among the woods it shed a glory on 
 the brown leaves which hung on the oak and beech, 
 and which now showed a beauty equal, though unlike 
 that which adorns them in summer. The deep sense of 
 beauty animated both of them; and in great enjoyment 
 of the scene, they stood together in the silent wood ad- 
 miring it. But they were soon at the end of the plea- 
 sure — a sound broke the great winter silence; the 
 branches rustled, and a servant came forward with a 
 letter which Mr. Ferroll read. "Thei'e," he said, "there 
 — our walk is at an end, EKnor, you must go home 
 alone; I thought so — you must be alone — nay, I 
 have only to go to Mr. — who is examining the old 
 wonaan, old Franks." 
 
 "^\^lo do you moan? not the old sick woman of 
 coui'se." 
 
 "Yes, indeed it is. The business is remarkably un- 
 pleasant — never mind it — don't listen to it or think 
 
 of it, till I come back — I shall surely come back 
 
 by dinner time." 
 
 "Nay, tell me more; what is it to you? what is it 
 you mean?" 
 
 "Oh, a terrible past story — the woman who was 
 once your enemy, Elinor, tliat poor soul, somebody fan- 
 cies they have discovered sometliing about her end." 
 Mrs. Fcrroll's colour rose vehemently. She comprehended.
 
 234 rATJL FERROLI,. 
 
 and was very grave at once, but said not a word — only 
 drew away her arm, and was ready to go. 
 
 "Nay, I'll come with you to the corner of the walk," 
 said he, snatching her arm again, and holding it under 
 his, Neither, however, spoke any more, and at the walk 
 they parted; a look grave and affectionate, bidding him 
 good-bye. 
 
 At Mr. — 's he found, as he expected, the old woman 
 Franks in an agony of fear and grief, surrounded by the 
 persons who had to attest the facts upon which she was 
 accused of the almost forgotten murder. Various trinkets 
 lay on the table, among which Mr. FerroU recognized at 
 a first glance more than one which had belonged to the 
 wife whose end had been so terrible. The old woman 
 was even beforehand with her accusers in proclaiming 
 her guilt respecting them. She sat in a chair, which 
 they had allowed her, wringing her hands, and rocking 
 to and fro, and to every question, addressed to her or 
 any one else, crjdng aloud, "Oh, ifs true, all true; I did 
 rob her, poor thing; it's come out — it's come out — 
 oh, my conscience is as heavy as lead — but I did no 
 worse — oh no, ho, no." 
 
 And when Mr. Ferroll came in, and she heard the 
 questions asked him about the identity of the ornament, 
 "What's the use of asking him?" she cried. "It is the 
 very chain she went and bought one day for him herself 
 and would put it about his neck, and he took it off, and 
 laid it aside, and she laid it on her table, and she left 
 it about, and I did take it — I did — but never did I 
 harm the poor creature; oh, I would not have taken the 
 life of a fly." 
 
 "She criminates herself by these excuses," said 
 Mr. — , in a low voice, to Mr. Ferroll.
 
 PAUL FEEBOU. 235 
 
 "Not necessarily — there is no art in her declara- 
 tions, she is frightened." 
 
 "What are ye saying, gentlemen?" interposed the 
 tremhling woman. "I tell you all, I am making my 
 conscience clean. It's inside out before you like a sick 
 stomach. I was seduced of Satan with the chains and 
 rings, but as to her precious life " 
 
 "jS'obody is accusing you of that," said the attorney, 
 "mind that what you say now may go in eyidence against 
 you." 
 
 "And how can it be against me when I say I never 
 touched her — why I could not bear so much as to see 
 her — looking so pit'ous there. Lord, Lord, I can't bear 
 it now." Ajid the poor wi-etch tiu-ned fearfully pale and 
 sank down in one of the fits which came upon her under 
 any excitement. 
 
 The occupants of the room looked one at the other, 
 and whispered their suspicions — all but Mr. FeiToU, 
 who had scarcely spoken a word from the time he came 
 in, and whose eyes were fijsed on the accused woman 
 with an expression which was readily to be explained 
 by the strangeness and uneasiness of his situation. 
 
 A woman of the household was called, and took 
 Martha Franks under her charge to apply the necessary 
 remedies; and then followed a consultation what to do 
 respecting her committal. "She is undoubtedly guilty 
 of robbery," said Mr. Ferroll, when they required his 
 opinion. "Is it not enough to accuse her of that — you 
 cannot prove the murder against her." 
 
 "These are the words you said respecting her hus- 
 band eighteen years ago," said Mr. — , "you were right 
 then."
 
 236 PAUl FEKIIOIL. 
 
 "Did I," said IMr. FerroU, "the time is come round 
 I suppose — however, now let me go — I don't want 
 to influence your decision in any way — I am not the 
 person to judge this case; the poor foolish soul must 
 abide the consequence of her antique vanity." So saying, 
 he left the room, and the matter ended in the com- 
 mittal for trial of the old woman, on suspicion of 
 being concerned as accessary to the murder of Anne 
 Ferroll.
 
 PAUL FEEKOIi, 237 
 
 ciLu:'TER yni. 
 
 Theke was still some time to elapse before the assizes, 
 and though the county eagerly took up the subject, -which 
 made some impression also upon the general press, no- 
 thing could be done about it, and it was one which cer- 
 tainly never was mentioned in the Ferroll family. Mi'. 
 FeiToll was restless, though not pre-occupied; he was as 
 much, or more than ever, awake to all the pleasures and 
 occupations of liis life, and if possible more than ever 
 averse to mixing in any degree with his neighbours. 
 Lady Lucy had news at tliis time that her son had 
 turned homeward; and it occasioned a sensation at the 
 Park wliich absorbed almost the whole of what other- 
 wise would have been created by the affair of the Tower. 
 She was intent upon a welcome for him, but could not 
 get the attention of Mr. Ferroll for a moment. It was 
 Mi's. Ferroll and Janet only who minded her, and it could 
 not escape the mother's attention that Janet had silent 
 feelings on the subject, wliich were the stronger perhaps 
 for being unspoken. She mentioned it to her husband. 
 "Hugh is coming homo," she said, "and you don't know 
 liow c^adent I thought his attaclimcnt was while you 
 were ill at Pontaube. I am sure also she likes liim. If 
 she is forced to mention his name, the colour flushes 
 into her face, and she uses any circumlocution to 
 avoid it."
 
 238 PAUI, MEEOLt. ' 
 
 "And can't you put your pretty white hand on the 
 matter, and crush it?" 
 
 "After all, why should I if I could? which I don't 
 think possible. Speak seriously." 
 
 "Why? That never occurred to me before. Why 
 can't time run backward, and fetch me yesterday, out 
 of the ti-easures of God? I never thought of that be- 
 fore." 
 
 "My dear husband!" said Mrs.Ferroll, shocked at his 
 expression. "But siace you think thus, we must do 
 something; I must take her " 
 
 "You shall not leave me," he exclaimed; "not now;" 
 and then changing the expression of his voice, he added 
 more lightly, "You never left me but once, and that 
 was when Janet had some fever or measles; and do you 
 recollect, how I very nearly died of it? Nothiag should 
 . make you leave me now." 
 
 "Why now especially?" 
 
 "Nay, I have just told you. Don't you recollect that 
 time?" 
 
 "Oh, that I do— and it was her illness only which 
 could have induced me to leave you." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know; but she is not ill now. Pshaw! 
 a young girl in love; what is that to a husband who 
 loves yotiV 
 
 "But I was once a young girl in love." 
 
 "True; bless you, my dearest, for that pretty word; 
 and now you are a loving wife, whom I will listen to, 
 wish what you will. Come, Elinor, will this do? I am 
 going to London with my MS. for a couple of days. I 
 will take Janet with me. My kindness will so astonish 
 her, that she will forget her own for Hugh." 
 
 "Going to London?"
 
 PAUL FEKKOIL. 
 
 239 
 
 "Yes, I must, and to-night, I had a letter this 
 morning. I was going to tell you when we walked — 
 for you must wali with me to-day, though it is very 
 cold, and very likely to rain, and you have got a cold, 
 and all that. We will go directly, for I have finished 
 what I had to do." 
 
 Elinor had notliing to say in opposition; but she did 
 delay her outdoor toilette for a few minutes, to tell Janet 
 she must be ready that evening for the joiu-ney, a piece 
 of news which Janet could hardly credit she heard 
 rightly with her ears. However, it was an order given; 
 and she set about her preparations without further in- 
 quirj-, though with some perttu'bation and expectation in 
 her own mind. 
 
 London was new to Janet; and it was with eager 
 eyes that the next day she walked with her father along 
 the streets, cheerful and billiant with a fine February 
 morning. The sun was warm in St. James's Street. The 
 ugly old palace smiled in its own way, the light coming 
 xmder the arch, and the clock glittering above. A few 
 brilliant vmiforms reflected the light in the street — the 
 sound of the band changing guard was heard in the 
 yard; the great plate -glass windows of the clubs and 
 shops showed gaily in the extremity of polish and bright- 
 ness. 
 
 "This way to the right goes across the Park, 
 Jeannie," said Mr. Ferroll; "and to the left along Pall 
 Mall; which way shall we go, it's the same thing to 
 
 me?" 
 
 "Oh, not the Park, papa." 
 
 "Oh, you don't want to see trees and countty; well 
 to the left then. A handsome street, is not it? but 
 nothing like Paris."
 
 240 PAUL FEKKOLL. 
 
 "But it is very beautiful," said the admiriag Janet. 
 Now it must be remembered, that of all beautiful objects 
 that day in Pall Mall, including every occupant of every 
 carriage, which during the whole twenty -four hours 
 rolled along it, Janet herself was the most so. Just 
 developed, with the colour of the peach blossoms on her 
 cheek, with delicately lined eyebrows on the noblest and 
 whitest forehead, auburn hair, featixres modelled to an 
 exquisite fineness, and the sweet, earnest, good ex- 
 pression of a fine mind and disposition — with round, 
 light figure, filled by health and youth with graceful 
 activity, and over all, the shy, unconscious modesty of 
 a girl unacquainted with admii'ation, she came to the 
 great capital in the very season of her perfection, and 
 was in every way qualified to make part of its best 
 brilliancy. There was no one, not akeady preoccupied, 
 but turned to look at her. Yet neither she nor Jier 
 father observed it. He was thinking of other tilings, 
 and so was she; but the objects of their thoughts were 
 very different. The past, future, absent, filled his mind. 
 The present was all in all to her; the things without, 
 the new world. 
 
 But at last Mr. Ferroll was roused by a voice ad- 
 dressing him. It came from a brougham which was 
 standing by the United Service Club, and from which 
 Lord Ewyas jumped, and held out his hand. "So I see 
 you at last," said he, (for they had not met since the 
 Ferroll family came from the continent); "I am glad you 
 are returned — you are all well?" and at the same time 
 his eye rested on Janet, who had forg(5'tten him, and 
 made no sign of recognition. Greetings passed; and then 
 he went on, "But Miss Ferroll does not remember me. 
 I must call myself to her recollection, for one can't
 
 PAUL FERROIL. 241 
 
 afford to be forgotten by such a lady." Aiid with the 
 fatherly gallantry of an elderly man to a very young 
 girl, he took both her hands to welcome her. Janet 
 coloured, and looked prettier than ever, and in her wish 
 to remember him, did not catch the name her father 
 said. "Ah, well," said Lord Ewyas, "we must get 
 better acquainted. It ynll be but a very short time be- 
 fore there is no one hi London who will not envy me 
 my right to make myself kno-\vn." 
 
 Mr. Ferroll turned to look at his daughter, and 
 smiled. "Oh no, no, my lord, I am going home two 
 days hence. I brought my daughter merely for a glance 
 at London, wliich she docs not know." 
 
 "Going away iu two days? Impossible. You must 
 not allow that, Miss Ferroll." 
 
 Janet looked at her father \dth. a shy glance, as much 
 as to say the idea that she should allow anytliing was ab- 
 solutely ridiculous. The look said so, and was very 
 pretty. Lord Ewyas was enchanted. "Tell me where 
 you are at least, and Lady Ew.... and my wife must tiy 
 her power of persuasion." 
 
 "Nay, I assure you I am obliged to go home. I am 
 at Mivart's; but I go home on Thursday. Good day, my 
 lord; many tlianks." And taking Janet's hand under liis 
 arm, they walked on. "It's of no use, you know, Janet, 
 to call and be called upon, when one remains in a place 
 only a couple of days." 
 
 "Ko, it's of no use," said Janet; but in her heart 
 she thought she should have liked to see the inside of 
 one of the great palaces of London. 
 
 It was in the evening of that same day when tlie 
 dusk had well set in, that Janet was alone m the hotel, 
 her father having left her there, when he had had 
 Paul Ferroll. 1(3
 
 242 PAUL FEEEOLl. 
 
 walking enough with her. It was the hour when gen- 
 tlemen so pmdlcged cither by years, or by permission, 
 or otherwise, delight in making their morning visits, 
 and Lord Ewyas chose tliis time to come to Mivart's, 
 and desired to be shown to Mr. FerroU's apartment. 
 Ladies are apt at that hour to trim their fires, and place 
 their chair comfortably, but Janet was not so occupied. 
 She had the window open, and was out on the balcony 
 with a water-jug brought witli some difficulty from her 
 dressing-room, from which she was pouring as skilfully 
 as she could, a slender stream upon two half withered 
 aucubas, which were there in pots. She turned as the 
 waiter announced her yisitor, and had to rest her great 
 jug upon her knee for a moment, wliile the flame of the 
 gaslight illuminated her and her employment, and 
 showed her in a pretty and unexpected attitude to Lord 
 Ewyas. It was only for a moment that she stood thus. 
 With a little embarrassment she set down the water and 
 re-entered the room, closing the window, a task which 
 the waiter took from her, and looked superciliously upon 
 her, whatever Lord Ewyas might do. 
 
 He addressed her, so as to set her at ease, and Janet 
 told him she had waited till the sun was gone in order 
 to water the plants, which it was a pity should die, and 
 which she thought no one had attended to for a long 
 time. Lord Ewyas could not but smile, and began a 
 playful attack upon her for her cares , which Janet 
 answered timidly at first, and then with an awakened 
 spirit of lively self-defence, which proved her no mere 
 inanimate beauty. Her companion was delighted, as 
 might easily be the case when so lovely a creature tallied 
 at all, and before conversation flagged, went on to the 
 maia subject of his visit. First he apologised for Lady
 
 TXVTL rEEROLL. 243 
 
 Ewyas, who had not called because she had a violent 
 headache; a complaint great ladies are yery subject to, 
 when then- husbands ask them to call on coimtry neigh- 
 bours; and next, he said he was the bearer of a card 
 and a message, begging Janet's presence with her father 
 at Harold House, the next eA-ening, which was to be the 
 occasion of a great baU given in honour of Lady Ewyas's 
 birthday. 
 
 Janet looked on that ball as she had often looked at 
 the moon, longing to be there, but without hope. She 
 said at once she knew it was impossible; and then, in 
 answer to Lord Ewyas's well-put questions, told him she 
 had never been to one, that she loved dancing, that a 
 London ball must be the most beautiful thing in the 
 world; but, finally, again, that it was quite impossible; 
 and seemed so contented to resign what she so ardently 
 desired, that his admiration of her good training rose as 
 high as that of her person and manner. He stayed on, 
 stayed on, resolving to see Mr. FeiToll, if he found he 
 could wait so long without any languor in conversation, 
 and so skilful was he in it, that before Janet had per- 
 ceived a pause, her fother came in. At first he was as 
 cold and abrupt in lu's refusal as ever, but after a time 
 some change came over liim, and he said, "It's your 
 own doing, my lord, Janet shall... I will bring Janet." 
 
 "Certainly, I ask no better than that it should Ijc 
 my own doing," said Lord Ewyas, laugliing; and to 
 Janet's infinite surprise, nay, almost terror, now her 
 wish was granted, she found herself engaged to a London 
 ball for the next evening. The persons mainly engaged 
 in this affair being men, did not perceive the importance 
 of the question of dress, which might have justified 
 Janet's assertion of impossibility; and as for her, though 
 
 IG*
 
 244 PAUL TEBKOIL. 
 
 the idea glanced through her mind at once, she thought 
 the wliite muslin which had been sent with her to 
 London, would do very well for her. After dinner she 
 was bringing sugar for an orange from the table to 
 a little stand beside the fire, and said, "I must not let 
 a grain fall on my gown though," and then it occurred 
 to Mr. FerroU what was passing in her head. 
 
 "That's your ball-dress, is it, Janet? how well you 
 will look in a London assembly; a heroine in book-muslin, 
 with a simple blue ribbon." Janet was ashamed, and 
 lost all pleasure for that night. Kay, next morning when 
 she woke, her first thought was a heroine in book- 
 muslin; and when she saw her father, she dreaded the 
 very name of the ball on account of the book-muslin. 
 But though careless of giving her uneasiness, it was 
 not his intention that she should appear without the 
 advantages which would do her justice. Breakfast was 
 no sooner over, and the newspaper read, than he bade 
 her take her bonnet and come with him. His wife's 
 fashion-merchant was the person to whom he meant to 
 go at once, and proceeding with Janet along Grafton 
 ►Street to Dover Street, No, 16, he brought her into 
 an abode of satin, flowers, and mantles, such as she 
 had no idea of. 
 
 "This young lady is going to-night to Lady Ewyas's 
 ball." 
 
 "Oh, exactly, sir, we are sending home a dozen 
 dresses for it." 
 
 "There must be a thirteenth, Mrs. Johnstone. I must 
 depend upon you to supply her with everything that is 
 necessary; she must do you credit, remember that." 
 
 "A dress, sir — an entire dress? you are very kind;
 
 PAUL FERBOLL. 245 
 
 however, wlietlier it is possible? it's absolutely eleven 
 o'clock." 
 
 "Very true; the difficulties may be prodigious, but 
 the success is the more glorious. You see I throw her 
 upon your mercy. Mrs. Ferroll has so high an opinion 
 of you, that I feel I can't do better." 
 
 "All's. FeiToll is most kind" (and, indeed, the bills 
 incurred, and the promptitude of payments were such as 
 to inspu'e any milliner with love). "An3'tlaing possible 
 I will do. Here's a most beautiful thing; a satin 
 petticoat made up as you sec, sir; the body might 
 be covered with this Brussels. I think this is exactly 
 Mrs. Paul Ferroll's style. 
 
 "Very well, if that's the right tiling for a girl." 
 
 "Well, indeed, I cannot say it is the right thing, 
 sir, as you observe. Here 's a most delicate moiree ; but, 
 no, no," said Jfrs. Johnstone, too generous to deceive 
 a man and a girl who plainlj" knew no better, "that is 
 not a ball-dress neither. I really — but now I come to 
 tliink a little, there is a dress, if j'ou had no objectiou, 
 which was made for a lady — I won't deceive you, it 
 ivas made for another lady, but I 'm sure it might be 
 altered for Miss Ferroll." 
 
 "^^^lat lady? what's the story? she did not like it, 
 I suppose? that will never do." 
 
 "Xay, sir, slie did like it extremely. I recollect 
 her very words — 'That's delicious, Mrs. Johnstone,' 
 she said." 
 
 "Why did not she wear it then?" 
 
 "It wa.s poor Miss Emsey," said Mrs. Johnstone, 
 lowering her voice. 
 
 "Who died broken-hearted after her lover was 
 arrested?" said Mr. Ferroll.
 
 246 PAUL FEKKOIL. 
 
 "That's it, sir; and the family got me to take hack 
 a few of the best things. But, perhaps you would not 
 like " 
 
 "I think it will suit her very well," said Mr. Ferroll, 
 scarcely casting a glance at the dress wliich an assistant 
 was holding up in her two hands. It was gay and 
 youtliful, the delicate gauzy texture, the trimmings of 
 downy feathers, the ribbons and fine lace, and exquisite 
 fabric of the soft sliining petticoat beneath, all suited 
 a young and lovely form like her's; and Janet's heart 
 beat as she put it on, and as the skilful needlewoman 
 undertook that it should fit her perfectly. The head- 
 dress, and all necessary concomitants, were examined; 
 and with an air of the most perfect simplicity, the dress 
 contrived to combine every quality which made it best 
 and most expensive. Janet's belief would have been 
 too severely taxed had she known the total of the bill 
 lying by her father's request at the bottom of the deal 
 box which punctually brought home her gown that night. 
 Janet was accustomed to be well dressed, and was not 
 herself aware of the manner in which this one showed 
 her beautiful person to advantage; but Mr. Ferroll felt it 
 the moment she came into the room ready for the ball, 
 with flowers in her auburn hair, and with the perfection 
 of toilette traciug the outKnes of her form. 
 
 "I'm not too late, am I, papa?" said Janet, looking 
 a little fearful, as she saw him dressed, and standing at 
 the table. 
 
 "No, no; besides you. are worth waiting for." Janet 
 coloured at her father's praise, and looked at herself 
 shily m the glass. It reflected her father's face and 
 figure also — the face and figure upon which her own 
 were modelled — the noble, intellectual expression, the
 
 pat:l feeboli. 247 
 
 finely-wrought feahu-es, the just proportions; and his age 
 no more than fiYe-aud-forty , when though the beauty of 
 youth is passed, the man is in the perfection of mind 
 and body. A pair most admirable were the father and 
 daughter, as they stood ready for the assembly, Janet 
 putting on her cloak lightly over her pretty dress to go 
 down to the carriage. 
 
 Some servants were standing about to see the ladies 
 go to their caniages that night, as several had invitations 
 for the ball. A stately dowager had just swept down the 
 stairs, well shawled, and the odour of eau-de-Portugal 
 still lingered where she had passed, when a gentleman 
 who had taken her down reascended, and looking up, 
 as he perceived figm-es meeting him on the stans, 
 Mr. Ferroll saw it was their old friend Lahrotte. He 
 knew Mr. Ferroll also at once, and with his cheerful 
 French tone of voice,, and friendly hands both clasping 
 the one hand and arm of Mr. FeiToll, jo}-fully gxeeted 
 him, but Janet he did not immediately recognise. "Is 
 it possible, not mademoiselle? not Miss Jeannette:" and 
 no doubt Cesar came into his mind — raw Cesar, whom 
 he had proposed for the husband of this splendid young 
 English lady. Janet's pretty voice gladly greeted him, 
 and there was more of respect than he had thought it 
 possible to feel towards the helpful, ready young girl, in 
 the way he took the hand she offered him. 
 
 "And what brings you to London:" said Mr. Fen-oll. 
 "You must not be in England without coming to us at 
 the Tower." 
 
 "I intend it; I'm glad a chance has brought mc," 
 said Lahrotte — "a droll chance. You saw that lady 
 gohig down." And he told how a very great English 
 woman had fallen ill, rather ill, at Bordeaux, and hoAV
 
 248 vkVL ranKOLi. 
 
 he accidentally had been called in, and had pleased her 
 so well with his treatment, that she had not rested tiU 
 he had promised to accompany her on her journey, 
 and remain with her till her health should be quite 
 re-established in England. I think she heard my name 
 through you, or some one who knows you — a milord: 
 and, indeed, you are a credit to me," he added, laughing, 
 but gazing on Mr. Ferroll with the admiration and 
 interest which a surgeon takes in the patient he has 
 repaired. 
 
 "That's possible," said Mr. Ferroll; "but, at all 
 events, I'm obliged to her for bringing you here. We 
 are busy for an hour, going to a ball which a country 
 neighbour is giving; but I shall see you again to-night, 
 for if I take Janet I don't intend to be long there. 
 And remember, we must arrange a visit to the Tower — 
 promise." 
 
 Lahrotte again went down stairs, giving his hand to 
 Janet as she got into the carriage, the old man wondering 
 more and more at the impression she made upon him in 
 her full dress. But Janet's heart was in the ball-room; 
 she mounted the grand staircase, and entered the 
 reception rooms in silent dehght. She had never seen 
 a splendid house thoroughly awake from its trance of 
 chair-covers and silence before, but now she beheld one 
 not only awake, but adorned like herself in gala attire. 
 Lights sparkling, flowers wreathing, splendid colours on 
 all sides — figures, faces, voices, all keeping holiday; 
 and what a new hght of jewels flashing around her. 
 It was the splendour of the older ladies which seized 
 most upon Janet's imaghiation — ladies whose front bore 
 stars, whose gowns were looped and laced with diamonds, 
 whose arms carried manacles of diamonds, who flashed
 
 PA.UI, FEEROLL. 249 
 
 the colours of some unearthly stone-rainbow as they 
 moved. There were still more slender forms in clouds 
 of muslin and lace, but on those Janet looked as young- 
 girls like herself; it was the jewelled elders who had all 
 her admiration. 
 
 With gradual progress they advanced through the 
 rooms, where the master of the feast met them with ex- 
 pressions of cordial welcome brought out by the contii- 
 bution of beauty and novelty which the daughter be- 
 stowed on his ball, and by the pride of having a 
 literary lion like the father, who had scarcely ever 
 been seen before in the circles of London. And taking 
 Janet's arm under his, he led her through the crowd to 
 present her to Lady Ewyas. All eyes turned on the 
 group, and not one satisfactoiy answer could be given 
 to the universal question of who she was, until from the 
 crowd, with whom Lord Ewyas exchanged greetings and 
 words as he led Janet along, pressed out a young man, 
 and was the only one, as it seemed, who had the pri^^.- 
 lege from fonner acquaintance of speaking to the beauty 
 of the night. 
 
 "Oh, Hugh," cried Janet, stopping and drawing 
 away her hand to give it heaiiily to the young man, 
 "you here? When did you come back?" Then she 
 turned to look for her father, and authoiize her gi-eeting, 
 by first making Hugh's presence kno^vn to him. Mr. 
 Ferroll saluted him more ceremoniously, without pleasure 
 and Avithout suiprisc; but Huglx had neither eyes nor 
 ears to dwell on any reception except that given by 
 Janet, nor to take notice of any presence except that of 
 Janet, shining in a loveliness such as he had never seen 
 before. Lord Ewj'as Avas not surprised at the good for- 
 tune of his young kinsman in being thus received by
 
 250 PAUL PEREOLL. 
 
 his beautiful guest, but all around, he became an ob- 
 ject of the envy of those who looked on Janet for the 
 first time. Janet's spirits were fluttering gaily, and her 
 heart all open, not sentimentally, however, but ac- 
 cording to the scene around her. She was very glad to 
 see an old friend to share her pleasure, and to be her 
 safeguard among all these sti'angers. 
 
 "Hugh," she said, after he had told her that he was 
 just landed, &c., "I am so glad you are here; now I 
 shall be sure of a partner." 
 
 "Oh, Janet, I am afraid " said Hugh, and 
 
 stopped. 
 
 "What?" said she, fearful of having advanced too 
 boldly; "oh, I dare say you are engaged all night, 
 Hugh. I did not mean " 
 
 "Nay, nay, what /mean is, that I am. afraid you'll 
 have far too many partners to remember me." And at 
 this moment Lord Ewyas, who did not want her to 
 engage herself to an obscure country neighbour, called 
 away her attention, and almost directly made his way 
 with her to his wife. 
 
 Lady Ewyas was surprised and charmed. Her ball 
 brought out the girl who plainly was to be the beauty 
 of the season, and her own patronage would be re- 
 warded with having first claims on the beauty to adom 
 all her great doings. 8he rose graciously, said right 
 things to Mr, Ferroll, and, regretting Mrs. FerroU's ab- 
 sence, added, that she herself must insist on replacing 
 her for the evening in the care of Janet, 
 
 "It will enable my little girl to prolong her 
 pleasiu'e," said Mr. Ferroll; "for I am obliged to see a 
 friend, and must have taken her away early." Lady
 
 PAUL FEKKOLL. 251 
 
 Ewyas would hear of no such thing: Mr. FeiToU told his 
 daVighter he Avould return for her. 
 
 "And if you claim her too soon," said the lady, "my 
 sister is staying in your hotel, and will hring back your 
 daughter, I am sure — won't you, Annie?" she added, 
 addressing a stately mati'on near her, who bowed all 
 her jewels, and said, "Yes," Janet's heart quailing at 
 the thought of depending on such magnificence. "Sit 
 down," said Lady Ewyas, making room on her own sofa. 
 "Are you engaged to dance yet?" 
 
 "Oh, no," said Janet. 
 
 Lady Ewyas smiled. "I think here's an applicant 
 then," said she, looking towards a yovmg man who had 
 his eyes fixed on Janet after a glance from the lady. 
 "It's Lord Trevil, my son; you don't know him?" 
 
 "No, I only know " 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "jN'obody," said Janet, "except " 
 
 "Except whom?" said Lady Ewyas. 
 
 But Janet had no mind to pronounce Hugh's name, 
 though conscience forbade her to declare her ignorance 
 absolute; and the son of the house now came up, and 
 was introduced by his mother, of whom he had desired 
 the introduction by a look.; 
 
 "And, Trc^il," said Lady Ewyas, as they were 
 moving away, "mind you are to bring her back to me 
 when the quadrille is over, I'm her chaperon. Re- 
 member that. Miss FerroU." Under these auspices did 
 Janet dance the first dance of her first ball, and was 
 puzzled at the close of it to find how many more dances 
 she might immediately engage in if such was her 
 pleasure. Hugh, however, claimed her while others 
 were obliged to be seeking introductions, and she had a
 
 252 
 
 PATTL FEEROLI.. 
 
 delightful feeling of security and ease while he was her 
 partner. "How good-natured people are, Hugh," she 
 said; "though nobody knows me, there are three who 
 have already asked to be introduced to me to dance, 
 and it is not for want of partners, for there are 
 plenty." 
 
 "Not plenty like you," said Hugh; "you can't tliink 
 that, and look in one of those great mirrors." 
 
 Janet looked and was pleased with herself. "Oh, I 
 am all very well," she said; "but certainly no better, 
 nor nearly so well as a great many." 
 
 "Lord Trevil seems to think you are; for you are 
 going to dance again with him, are you not?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; but then he is obliged to be civil to his 
 mother's guests — particularly as she is so very kind 
 to me." 
 
 "Obliged to be civil! It is very well you don't de- 
 pend for danciug on that, Janet." 
 
 "But come, Hugh, there is an exquisite waltz. How 
 beautiful it is — how it is played. Let us begin," 
 said Janet, making a step or two, as if she had been 
 alone at home. 
 
 "Enchanting!" said a voice at her side. She looked 
 hastily, and saw a man of middle age, with a glass 
 hung round his neck, but he was near enough to see 
 her without its help. His gaze was fixed on her. He 
 was smiling as she looked up, and made the half of a 
 bow, from which, however, her eyes sank, and re- 
 suming her good behaviour hastily, she walked away 
 with her partner. 
 
 "That's Sir Hemy Cronet," said Hugh. "His appro- 
 bation is thought more of than anybody's. How he ad- 
 mires you."
 
 TXVL PEEKOLL. 253 
 
 "Laughs at me, I think," said Janet; "but I did not 
 know anybody -was looking at me." Too humble, how- 
 ever, to resent being laughed at, she soon engaged 
 with full enjoyment in the waltz, and whirled rormd on 
 Hugh's arm, as happy as when they were facing some 
 steep hill together, and exercise called up their health 
 and spirits. They paused at length for a few minutes, 
 and then this same Sir Henry came up with Lord 
 Ewyas, whom he had engaged to present him to 
 Janet. 
 
 "This is your fii'st ball. Miss FerroU? though I 
 need not ask that, as it is the first time I hear 
 your name." 
 
 "It is the first, and I am afraid the last," said 
 Janet. "We arc going home to-morrow." 
 
 "Oh, of course you return for the season. I know 
 you will. I am an old prophet, and assure you that we 
 shall meet in at least six ball-rooms every week during 
 the months of May and June." 
 
 "I might get tired of quite so many," said Janet, 
 doubtfully. 
 
 "Do you think so already?" 
 
 "Oh, no. It does not seem to me as if there were 
 anything so delightful." 
 
 "You are not Ukc the peasant at Pisa. I asked a 
 very j'oung gu'l — very young indeed, what she thouglit 
 of a luminara, which had made the most blase of us 
 exclaim with pleasure. 'Xon c'e male,' said she, com- 
 posedly." 
 
 "I could not say that, when I think it is the most 
 lovely thing, jmd the pleasantest, I ever saw in my 
 life," said Janet.
 
 254 PAUL FEEKOLL. 
 
 "Tour life cannot have had time yet for many such 
 things," said Sir Henry. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I am old enough; but I have had no such 
 opportunity — have I?" she said, appealing to Hugh, 
 who had stood by silent. 
 
 "m, indeed." 
 
 "Then take my advice — take an old man's advice, 
 as they say in play books — make the most of the feast 
 while your appetite lasts — you will be tired of it be- 
 fore the shows have ceased to court you; or if that face 
 could fade — you would find the shows cease to care 
 for you, before you were tired of them." 
 
 Janet paused before she answered, looking at him 
 with the words on her lips, but not quite sure if she 
 should venture them or not. "That will be all fair, if 
 I cease to be pretty," said she at last, half afraid that 
 he would think her silly or flippant; but the mot from 
 such a beautiful mouth, especially accompanied by that 
 shy, appealing look for mercy, had vast success. 
 
 Sir Henry applauded, and went away to tell it. 
 "Such an exquisite creature; and such a mind too! But 
 who is that IVIr. Bartlett?" However, Hugh did indeed 
 get little opportunity to enjoy his superior intimacy with 
 the beauty. Lord Trevil, the son of the house, was 
 deeply enamoured of her for that evening; and so many 
 at last had been presented and engaged her hand, that 
 Janet was bewildered, and forgot them all. People saw 
 how it was; that she was totally inexperienced, and 
 that what little she knew of the rules of society, was 
 technical, and learned merely by rote, while in all its 
 prindples, she was a proficient, because they belonged 
 to her habitual iiitercoiu'se and good sense — her mis-
 
 PAUI, FEBBOIX. 255 
 
 takes, therefore, were delightful, and all about her 
 delightful. 
 
 "Perfectly dressed too — is she rich?" 
 i "I don't know." 
 
 "I don't know of what family she is." 
 
 "She's Paul FcitoU's daughter, the author." 
 
 "Oh, really; people say he is very rich. The man 
 who will never go out anpvhere?" 
 
 "Yes; thafs he. He lives in — shii-e." 
 
 "Oh, yes; he never got over liis first -sA-ife's death, 
 did not he?" 
 
 ""Well, I've heard something about it. Is this her 
 girl? Who was she?" 
 
 "I don't think she was anybody." 
 
 "Oh, but you know she was murdered." 
 
 "^Nonsense." 
 
 "Was that what made him recluse? What was it? 
 Did they tliink he murdered her?" 
 
 "Pshaw! what nonsense you do talk." 
 
 "I did not know. Is he here?" 
 
 "Yes; somebody said so." 
 
 "No; somebody said he was gone." 
 
 "And left his daughter! How very odd." 
 
 "He is very odd." 
 
 "Is he? What is it? Is he mad?" 
 
 "Pho! There's another accusation on the poor man." 
 
 "Oh, I don't accuse liim. I know nothing in the 
 world about him. There's the duchess; and there is the 
 Prince of Piedmont — royalty." 
 
 Lady Eways, even in receiving royalty, did not 
 forget Janet. She called to her sister to receive her 
 charge from the hand of Lord Tre\'il, with whom Janet 
 had last danced; and the other great lady took hold of
 
 256 PAUL FEEKOLL. 
 
 her arm, as if she had been her daughter, and walked 
 about with her. 
 
 "Your mother is in town, my dear?" said she. 
 
 "No; mamma is at home. Mamma is not very 
 strong." 
 
 "Ah, that's the reason you are here alone. It is 
 rather a trying position, my dear; but you must be the 
 more prudent. I have some experience. You see that 
 lady with sapphkes, and white velvet; she's pretty, is 
 not she?" 
 
 "Most lovely," said Janet, earnestly, as she caught 
 sight of the person in question — a lady in the full blaze 
 of a young matron's dress. 
 
 "She's my daughter. Xow I always said to her — 
 you are pretty, and people will tell you so; but they 
 will say a great deal more than they mean, and you 
 must believe a great deal less than they say. And so it 
 will be even with you; trust me when I tell you so." 
 
 "With me?" said Janet. "Oh, that lady is very 
 different from me." 
 
 "Different she is. You are far handsomer — are 
 you not?" said Lady — , perceiving that Janet most 
 honestly believed in her own inferiority. 
 
 "Oh!" said Janet, blushing deeply, "papa told me 
 to-night I looked well; but I believe it was only this 
 new di'css." 
 
 Lady — laughed. "Did nobody else say the same?" 
 
 "Except my old play-fellow; but I have known him 
 all my life." 
 
 "And these young men with whom you have been 
 dancing." 
 
 "They could not say tliat, as they know me so little; 
 but they were all very good-natured and lively."
 
 PAUL FEEEOLI. 257 
 
 "3Iy pretty little thing," said Lady — , "unless your 
 old playfellow, whom you have known all your life, has 
 an interest in that heart of yoiurs, you are in some 
 danger here." 
 
 "What danger?" said Janet, quickly. 
 "Well, well, I'U take some care of you." 
 "Miss FerroU," said Hugh, "are you engaged?" 
 "Yes, Mr. Bartlett," said Janet, smiling gaily, for 
 
 she thought her old friend was thus fonnal, merely for 
 
 raillery's sake. 
 
 Hugh looked very grave, and retreated, making her 
 a low bow. "What can he mean?" said Janet, "he looks 
 angry — may I go for an instant?" and gently but 
 swiftly withdrawing her arm, she went a few steps and 
 half- beckoned, half went to meet Hugh. "I spoke as 
 you spoke, Hugh — of course I did not mean it." 
 
 Hugh's face cleared like a summer's sky — he knew 
 better than she did, the value of her advance, and how 
 much it would be envied him by others. "Then, Janet, 
 will you dance with me?" 
 
 "I can't this time; nor the next, but as soon as 
 I can." 
 
 "And when wiU that be?" 
 
 "I really don't know, but don't go far, Hugh, and 
 ask me when nobody else wants me — I must go back 
 quickly to Lady — " 
 
 "\\Tio's that, my dear?" 
 "His name is Hugh Bartlett." 
 
 "Not your brother, not your manicd cousin. Is he 
 the playfellow you've known all your life?" 
 "Yes." 
 
 I'ltul Fen oil. 17
 
 258 PAUL FEEEOLL, 
 
 "You are going to be married to him." Janet co- 
 loured deeper than ever, so that the tears came into 
 her eyes. 
 
 "Oh, certainly not." 
 
 "Well, I think your mother might be of use to your 
 prospects in life — why, child, you might marry any- 
 body." 
 
 Janet seemed to think this had very little to do with 
 the ball, or with her, and made no reply. She had 
 great interest in hearing the names of people of whom 
 she had hitherto only read, and whom she now saw with 
 her eyes, and amused her chaperon by her astonishment 
 that such a one could be the prime minister, and another 
 the Secretary for Foreign Affaii's. "It is very foolish," 
 said Janet, "but it seems to me quite odd to see the 
 Prime Minister, with his spoon eatiag ice — and see he 
 is bringing a chair for that lady." 
 
 "That man, by the fire, is — ," said Lady — . 
 "Eeally; and in his book he is all over dirt, and 
 eats a fish's enti-ails." 
 
 "And the one coming in, do you hear that name?" 
 "Oh, yes — let me see Mm; how does he look when 
 nobody would so much as fire one pistol at liim." 
 "What an odd idea." 
 "Now they are going to dance again." 
 "Miss Ferroll, allow me to claim you," said the 
 partner who was happy enough to have engaged her. 
 And Janet danced on delighted. It was very late, when 
 her father not appearing. Lady — proposed to take her 
 to the hotel. Janet was ready, though still engaged. 
 
 "Let me take you down to the carriage," said Lord 
 TreviL, giving his arm, and next assisting in the cloak- 
 ing — a most unexampled attention on his part to any
 
 VXVTL FEBEOLL, 259 
 
 youug lady. "The ball is over now, Miss FerroU," he 
 said, "I shall go to bed." 
 
 "Is it," said Janet, "then that's the best thing you 
 can do." 
 
 "Xay, you pretend to misunderstand me," said he; 
 "you know that there is no more pleasure in it now you 
 are gone." 
 
 "That would be a very great pity," said Janet, "for 
 / shall never be at another, I am afraid." 
 
 "Are you afraid — are you sorry?" 
 
 "With all my heai-t," said Janet, "and thank you for 
 making it so pleasant." 
 
 "Thank me! have /made it pleasant?" 
 
 "To be sure. I mean to say " The noise at 
 
 the door drowned her voice; at least Lord Trevil did not 
 eatcli her words. 
 
 "What did j-ou mean to say?" he asked, stooping, 
 and rather impeding her progress. 
 
 "I mean, I wish " but Lady — cried to her 
 
 to get in quickly, and with a "good night," she sprang 
 into the carriage, and the gay scene faded beliind her. 
 
 "1 mean, I wish " said he to himself, laughing, 
 
 and he went up stairs to tell his giddy friends that the 
 beautiful Miss Ferroll's last words to liim were "I 
 wish " 
 
 "I wish you good night, I suppose," said Sir Hemy. 
 "Certainly she is a most exquisite creature; and so 
 simple." 
 
 Mr. FeiToU was in the sitting room, alone, when she 
 came in, writing at the table. He was kind in inquhhig 
 into her pleasure, and told her that next day he would 
 stay in London till the evening, so that she might sleep 
 as long as she pleased; and be in no huny to join him 
 
 17*
 
 260 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 in the morning. Janet was not aware of it, but she 
 was tu'ed; and whatever were her resolutions when she 
 went to bed, her slumbers remained unbroken far into 
 the next day. 
 
 Not so young Bartlett's — he had seen the object of 
 his faithful devotion become the point of attraction to the 
 most practised and fastidious circle, and however great 
 his own admiration of her had been, he found it had 
 not been great enough, when judged by the opiuion of 
 the world and of the most refined observers. Jenny, 
 Jeannie, Janet, his old playfellow was the beauty of 
 a great London chcle - — the courted and admired of all; 
 and could he bear the prospect of losing that first place 
 in her favour to which he had always looked as the ob- 
 ject of Ills wishes, but of which he had felt secure till 
 to-night. But for Mr. Ferroll's strange opposition she 
 would have been already his promised wife, but now 
 with such homage sun'ounding her, could he bear to lose 
 a minute in tm^ning this 7night be , into it is ? He slept 
 scarcely an hour, and waking, too impatient to bear the 
 attitude of repose, started up and dressed, and took his 
 impetuous way to Mr. Ferroll's hotel, where his inquiries 
 were answered by finding Mr. Ferroll alone, his solitary 
 breakfast concluded, and the table relaid for Janet. 
 
 "Good morning, Hugh, you are a very early visitor," 
 said Mr. Ferroll, formally shaking hands with him. 
 
 "Unwelcome too," said Hugh, "perhaps; but whether 
 I am so or not, I am come to speak to you, Mr. Ferroll, 
 on the one subject which fills my heart and mind. You 
 have prevented me hitherto, but to-day I must speak." 
 
 "If you are aware that I have prevented you, you 
 are aware that I have only an unfavourable answer to 
 give."
 
 PAUL PEKEOIil. 2G1 
 
 "Xo, I am not, I will not be aware of it," said Hugh, 
 "there is no reason why it should he unfavourable. You 
 know, 3tlr. Ferroll, that I love Janet, I have loved her 
 aU my life." 
 
 "And has Janet said the same to you, and sent you 
 to me?" 
 
 "Xo, she has not — she feels your influence and 
 dares not — what do I say? forgive me, but at last I 
 must speak out. I believe, yes, I do believe Janet could 
 love me, if you allowed her — and why not allow her; 
 why come between a man and all the happiness of life 
 
 — a man to whom her happiness would be his — what 
 is there in me, Mr. Ferroll, to cast me away as you do? 
 I tell you truly I love her with all my heart, and I do 
 entreat you give her to me — why should you not?" 
 
 ]ilr. Ferroll was silent for a few moments, but the 
 defences he had raised had all been swept away by the 
 impetuous straightforwardness of the lover. "Why should 
 I not? Hugh, at least you know that all your life I 
 have been withholding you from that question — have I 
 not?" 
 
 "Yes; but now I xcill ask it," said Hugh. 
 
 "You are brave — you are manly — you are good, 
 Hugh," said !Mr. Ferroll. "I have acted for your good 
 
 — though I don't claim that as a merit, for it was not 
 of that I thought — but you have set yourself above 
 mc, you have taken the part you had a right to take. 
 Hugh, I have something to ask of you. Everything 
 about me assures me there is a crisis coming in the 
 great malady of life. I have a straggle going on at this 
 moment which no one can know or share. Do mc a 
 kmdncss, a favour, Hugh — forbear your suit for a 
 month longer. Let me be so long, the same opposcr of
 
 262 PAUX FERBOLL. 
 
 it that I have hitlierto been. After that let lis talk of 
 it again if you -will." Mr. Ferroll took Ms hand and 
 pressed it, but instantly let it go. Hugh was quieted, 
 OYei-powered by the manner of a man whom he had 
 hitherto seen asserting such su2:)eriority to him. Ho had 
 not thought when he entered the house that anything 
 could have caused him to leave it again without having 
 extorted permission to advance his just suit to Janet, 
 yet the new light in wliich Mr. Ferroll placed himself, 
 altered his feeling, and he acquiesced with an emotion 
 of almost awe. "What can he mean?" was a natural 
 question to himself — but there was hardly a tempta- 
 tion to ask it of Mr. Ferroll, and none to repeat the con- 
 versation to anyone else. 
 
 That evening the father and daughter returned to 
 the Tower, and Janet was talkative almost for the first 
 time, in telling her mother about the ball. The atten- 
 tion she had received amused her excessively; she re- 
 peated the most silly and the most witty of the pretty 
 speeches made to her, as if she had been telling them 
 out of a book. She would have heartily enjoyed more 
 of the same pleasure, and there was such simplicity and 
 such finesse in her enjoyment, that both parents felt for 
 the fii'st time, how in scenes congenial to her youth and 
 qualities, she would open to the sun, like the freshest 
 rosebud that ever unfolded in a May morning. 
 
 Mrs. Ferroll said something when alone with her 
 husband, about the expediency of letting her see the 
 world, but Mr. Ferroll gently told her, that she, his wife, 
 was his only, and must think of no one else. "We might 
 have been one earlier in our lives. We lost years which 
 we might have enjoyed; we have been together but 
 eighteen years; and if one die before the other, we shall
 
 PAUL FEEEOLL. 263 
 
 want the remembrance of having enjoyed all days we 
 could. Ko, Xelly, you chose me; you are vnj partner, 
 
 not Janefs. Look at me, think of me. Be with me 
 
 while we can." 
 
 Mrs. FerroU said no more, wished no more, but had 
 a vague purpose of doing something for Janet when the 
 weather should be fine. Mr. FerroU saw her pondering, 
 and said, "But there's a thing I forgot to tell you, which 
 really comes on purpose to realize your wish to give 
 Janet a Kttle dissipation. Here it is ready to your hand. 
 Some one is coming to see you." 
 
 "That's strange enough just as I was wishing for it." 
 
 "But, alas! it is not a man for the silver dishes. 
 Guess." 
 
 "I can't." 
 
 ""Well, it is no other than old Lahrotte; we met liina 
 in London. A sick lady has engaged him to accompany 
 her to England, and he means to pay us a visit before 
 his return. Janet," he said, calling to her, "remember 
 that your old friend Lahrotte is coming to see you." 
 
 The colour flushed into her face, for at the unusual 
 circumstance of any appeal made to her by her father, 
 she fancied he referred to Cesar, and to the suit he had 
 once favoured; and she looked at him half frightened. 
 
 Mr. Ferroll laughed. "You have not forgotten Cesar 
 then?" 
 
 "No, papa," she said shily, but venturing to speak 
 because he laughed, "nor yet how I caught his pony 
 when it ran away." 
 
 "And threw his suit, if not liim," said her father, 
 smiling. "Well, well, it is only my kindly old surgeon, 
 Kellv, Avho is coming." 
 
 "When?"
 
 •264 PAOTi FEEiiou:,. 
 
 ''Oh, in a few days, I believe. Did not he say so, 
 Janet?" 
 
 Meantime, while Janet had been enjoying her pleasant 
 glimpse of London, and while they then talked of do- 
 mestic arrangements, poor old Martha had been passing 
 her time in the terrors of prison, her tiial hanging over 
 her head. It promised to be a trial of great interest 
 and excitement, and all tlxe county people who had an 
 appetite for mental food of a strong taste and nourishing 
 quality were to be present. To the Ferroll family it 
 was of course a painful subject, and one which never 
 was talked of even among tliemselves; so that Janet was 
 scarcely aware any such existed, and Mrs. Ferroll avoided 
 it as an imgainly, imnecessary pain, in the midst of 
 prosperity. There was an understanding between her 
 and her husband that such a painful circumstance existed, 
 but it was one which, like other personal sufferings, the 
 modesty of nature would naturally avoid bringing under 
 discussion, and into notice. 
 
 Mr. Ferroll usually took his part in the county busi- 
 ness, and was present at the periodical meetings: but 
 from this one he abstained in his magisterial character, 
 and was not summoned on the trial of old Martha in 
 that of a witness. The attorneys on both sides had 
 questioned him, but his impression was so decided of the 
 innocence of the accused, and yet his recollection so 
 exact of circumstances which were evidence against her, 
 that neither party ventured to call him. At the Tower 
 it was, therefore, as if no such event were going on as 
 that which made the conversation of the other drawing- 
 rooms of the county.
 
 PAUL rEKEOIX. 265 
 
 It -was one evening at this moment, not long before 
 the time for dressing for dinner, that Mr. Ferroll came 
 into the room where Ids -wife and Janet were an'anging 
 flowers, and told the former he was suddenly summoned 
 to the county town, and they must dine without him. 
 
 "I'm so sorry, Paul; it is dark already — it's raining; 
 we have been putting fresh flowers ready for you. Must 
 you go?" 
 
 "Good bye, Elinor," he said, not seeming to hear 
 what she said. 
 
 "But you'll come back to-night?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, come back! " 
 
 "Ah, you mean no." 
 
 "I am going, dearest; I came to say good bye." He 
 took her by the hands, and kissed her; and seeing her 
 look inquiringly at him, said, with a sudden laugh, "Are 
 you going to have one of your panics? Do you think I 
 can't find my way in the dark? I^ay, nay, there may 
 be moonlight for aught I know. As your cousin Rose 
 said, one never can tell when there may be a moon." 
 And holding and pressing her hand a moment, he went 
 away. In a minute more he came back, and stood look- 
 ing into the room. 
 
 "Have you lost some tiling? Do you want anything?" 
 
 "xs'o, I had forgotten how that picture hung; I should 
 have been tormented if it had not been clear to my 
 mind's eye. Farewell." 
 
 Janet, to whom he had said nothing, had been a close 
 spectator, and was frightened at what she obsen^ed in 
 his manner. She followed liira into the hall, and saw 
 liim leaning on the table like a man ti'ying to draw 
 breath which would not come. "When he saw her, he
 
 266 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 started upright. "Janet, what are you doing here?" he 
 said, severely. 
 
 "Papa!" 
 
 "Well, I want nothing — what's the matter?" 
 
 "Are you well?" 
 
 "Did she send you?" said Mr. FerroU. 
 
 "No, mamma did not send me. I was afraid 
 
 you " 
 
 "Be afraid, Janet, and say nothing. Take care of 
 your mother — he tender, he officious to herj now I am 
 going." 
 
 He went towards the door; Janet still followed, hut 
 he took no notice of her. She laid her hand on his arm, 
 but did not dare detain him; and as if unconscious that 
 she was there, he descended the steps, and she saw him 
 mount his horse, and ride swiftly away alone, and 
 quickly disappear in the darkness. He galloped on while 
 he was in sight of his own hoiise, then relaxed his speed, 
 and collected his thoughts, which had been absorbed by 
 one object — in quitting his wife. But now again the 
 ideas which had governed him, and fashioned his con- 
 duct for years, resumed their full influence; he was about 
 to act in the presence of men, and gentle feelings were 
 no longer suffered to affect his mind or his conduct. It 
 was late when he arrived at Bewdy. The business of 
 the day was over, and the persons engaged in it were 
 eating and drinking, and resting from its excitement. 
 The sheriJff for this year was Sir Amyas Rufford, one of 
 those gentlemen who had been most eager in his offers 
 of service when Mr. Ferroll had been accused of the death of 
 the rioter. He was at the judges' dinner; and to their lod- 
 gings IVIr. Ferroll proceeded, and requested to speak to 
 Sir Amyas in a private room. The request excited some
 
 PAUL FEEKOLL. 267 
 
 surprise, for he kept so entirely aloof from the county, 
 that no one could recollect an instance in which he had 
 sought an iaterview -udth any of them. Sir Amyas went 
 to him at once, and after slight greetings, Mr. Ferroll 
 hegan — "I heard an hour ago, Sir Amyas, that a yer- 
 dict had been giyen against Martha Franlis for the mur- 
 der of my first "^Tfe." 
 
 "Aye," thought Sir Amyas to liimsclf, "of course, 
 that's his business. How came we not to think of that?" 
 and said aloud, "It's yery true, the eyidence satisfied the 
 
 jury-" 
 
 "But they are wrong." 
 
 "What's your reason for thinking so? haye you any 
 proof sufficient to demand a new trial for her?" 
 
 "I am the murderer!" said Mr. FeiToU. Sir Amyas 
 heard, what liis mind could not receiye; the words were 
 there, but not the meaning. Mr. Ferroll spoke again. 
 "Another person must not suff"er for my deed." The 
 next and the nearest supposition of Sir Amyas, when he 
 said this, was that liis reason was gone; he sought in- 
 yoluntarily to justify tliis suspicion. 
 
 "You are agitated," he said; "this horrible business 
 has been brought distressingly before you " 
 
 Mr. Ferroll smiled. "I don't thinli you can say I 
 am agitated. 1 tell you the truth in the most simple 
 form. I declare myself guilty; but I should not have 
 done so if the sentence had not fallen on another person. 
 Had that woman's innocence been pronounced, suspicion 
 could have attached to no one, and I should have con- 
 tinued to keep my secret. In order to assure any other 
 person from the consequences of suspicion, should I have 
 been dead, or by any means prevented from presenting 
 myself, I deposited in -^vriting an account of the deed,
 
 268 TAtJL rEEEOLl. 
 
 together -with the instrument of it, in the coffin of that 
 woman. Search, and find it if you will." 
 
 Sir Amy as sprang up in hoiTor, retreating a pace or 
 two hastily, and his face contracting with the expres- 
 sion of detestation and pain. ''And you have lived 
 amongst us " 
 
 "Yes, but not with you. No one can say I have 
 been his guest — no one can say I have received any 
 good office at his hand; I have been churlish to prevent 
 all from crossing my threshold; I have been of use to 
 some of you, but I have been the companion of none. 
 My wife " 
 
 "And she too — oh, horrible!" 
 
 "She! don't speak so. I tell you she is pure as 
 angels are pure. She believes me, still she believes me 
 a fit object of her pride and love. It is coming upon 
 her, but no matter. Have not I kept even her the se- 
 cluded property of these hands, which you so detest? 
 My daughter I have prevented from matching with any 
 
 of you " 
 
 "Ah! God — poor, poor things!" 
 
 "True; but it is of myself only I came to speak. I 
 come to die for the deed I have done." 
 
 "Hardened, impenitent!" said Sir Amyas, flushing 
 with horror and indignation. 
 
 "It is not the first time I have contemplated this 
 extx-emity, Sir Amyas. I am not here to justify, nor to 
 condemn myself, nor, in fact, to do any but the simple 
 tiling of putting myself into the hands of justice. The 
 forms of a trial must be gone through, but I shall take 
 no steps except those which will assist the court in 
 satisfying itself of the trath. You must commit me, 
 and I wish it might be done without delay."
 
 PAUL FEEKOIX. 2G9 
 
 Sir Amyas muttered something about consulting, and 
 moved towards the door; then looked back perplexed, 
 the ideas of a felon and of escape being entangled in his 
 mind. "Don't fear to leave me alone," said Mr. FerroU, 
 sndling. "I had no thought of avoiding justice when I 
 came to deliver myself up to you to-night." 
 
 The high sheriff went out, stunned with what he 
 had heard, and hardly yet believing the evidence of his 
 senses. He went to tell the story, and to concert what 
 to do, bidding instinctively a serv^ant watch at the door, 
 and allow no one to come out. Mr. Ferroll was alone, 
 and he did not remain a moment absorbed in the past 
 interview, but at once tm-ned to the table, where there 
 were writing materials, and sat down to proht by the 
 few minutes he should probably pass before the return 
 of Sir ^ijnyas. 
 
 "Mt Eltnoe — 'We have parted for the last time. 
 I committed a crime to win you eighteen years ago, and 
 1 must die for it. Scarcely an hour during that time 
 has the moment which is now come been absent from 
 my mind. I have acted over this scene a million times 
 in my imagination, but never in all those times parted 
 from you with a jest as I did in reality just now. Wife, 
 mistress, darling, my joy, my life, you cannot hate me, 
 though all else already do so. You cannot; when you 
 read this, you and I alone in the world shall love one 
 another, for I am a murderer, but you are my wife. 
 This scene has been so long present to my imagination, 
 tliat I can liardly feel it is new to you; and I cannot 
 write at leisure to bring you gently to it. One word 
 must make you believe it by violence. Elinor, I swear 
 it is true. My darling, you know I have told you to
 
 270 TAUL TEKKOLL. 
 
 apply to Harrowby if ever trouble came upon you, and 
 I should be away: and also, dearest, for my sake, in all 
 3'our misery, open and examine the iron drawer, of wliich 
 I himg the pretty golden key round your dear neck, and 
 told you to wear it for my sake. There have been many 
 words between us, Elinor, wMch you will imderstand 
 better now than when they were spoken. And now, 
 and here, end eighteen happy years. 
 
 "I am, for two perhaps three days yet, 
 "Your living, loving husband, 
 
 "Paxil Fekeoll." 
 
 He folded and sealed the letter, and stood holding it 
 in his hand until footsteps were heard approaching, and 
 the door re -opened to admit Su- Amyas and two other 
 gentlemen. No trace o^ emotion appeared on his face; 
 and those to whom this was a sudden and new horror 
 could not reconcile their emotion about it, and the calm 
 of the man whose pride in the first place ruled his con- 
 duct, and from whose mind it had not been absent, as 
 he wrote to Elinor, for an hour. He repeated what he 
 had said before, and then silently let them exhaust the 
 wonder, dread, and abhorrence, which he excited, waiting 
 till they should proceed to the forms by which he was 
 consigned to the felon's apartment in the county gaol. 
 The judges, whose business had been concluded, delayed 
 their departure the next day for this unexpected call 
 upon them; the courts were reopened, the lawyers all 
 eager to share ia so interesting a cause; but Mr. FeiToll 
 summoned no one, and passed the long night in solitary 
 communings with himself. Whatever he might feel, it 
 was easy for a man with such habits of self-command, 
 perfectly to conceal it for the few minutes during which
 
 PAUL FEBliOIX. 271 
 
 the officials of the gaol came into his room. He had 
 asked and obtained a messenger for his letter to the 
 Tower; indeed, the man of business whom he usually 
 employed, had, in kind feeling to the yet unconscious 
 ^vife, taken possession of it, and carried it to the Tower 
 himself. He was not aware, however, how perfectly 
 ignorant of what had happened ^Mrs. Fen'oll was; and 
 he placed the letter in her hand with no other pre- 
 paration for his dismal news than his grave and sorrow- 
 ful face. 
 
 Janet's heart died within her when she saw him. 
 She had said nothing, but she had been fiUed with 
 terror by her father's manner and words, and had waited 
 ever since, listening for bad tidings and expecting them. 
 But how far short of the reality had her imagination 
 fallen in its worst conjectm-esl How little could she 
 interpret her mother's face, which she watched reading 
 the fatal letter I The furthest suspicion of the truth had 
 never crept on lier mother's mind; and yet in the course 
 of eighteen years' devotion to and from her husband, 
 materials had accumulated there unknown to herself, like 
 the growth of fire in the gradually -heated homestead 
 which breaks out in universal flame at last, consuming 
 the beloved home at once. She could understand enough 
 to believe all; the broad flame spread a dreadful light 
 which flashed on her brain and her heart; she sank on 
 the floor like one withered by the stroke, life ebbing 
 from all its strongholds. Janet's arms caught her, but 
 she, too, could only fall beside her. 
 
 "But he is not dead," said Janet, "for he writes." 
 Death was as yet the bitterest calamity her imagination 
 could conceive. Her mother neither heard nor answered. 
 She clung to her child instinctively; but except the
 
 272 PAUL PEEEOIL. 
 
 gasping of her breath, no sound was heard from her. 
 "Tell me what it is!" cried Janet, looking ujj distracted 
 to Mi\ Monkton's face. "Where is my father?" He 
 shook liis head — the tears overflowing his eyes. "Where?" 
 cried Janet, rising as far as she could out of her mother's 
 unconscious hold. 
 
 "I can't, I can't," sobbed the kind-hearted man. 
 "Read that; perhaps he tells all. 
 
 Janet took the letter from his hand, for he had picked 
 it up from the floor, and in Tain read it eagerly through. 
 "They are going to kill him!" she said, bewildered. 
 "Mamma, mamma, speak to me. Save him!" She rose 
 up vehemently; and Mrs. Ferroll, almost like one who 
 had already lain in the grave, struggled to rise. Mr. 
 Monkton helped her, and the servants whom he had al- 
 ready summoned, ran in; but when she recovered con- 
 sciousness enough to stretch her hand for the letter, the 
 touch of it seemed to pierce her again with a vital 
 wound, and groaning deeply, she sank into a swoon. 
 They carried her to her bed, and a groom rode off im- 
 petuously for the useless help of the doctor, Janet vainly 
 attempting to arouse the veiled faculties, and to renew 
 the vital action of the mother, to whose arms she would 
 fain have fled for shelter. 
 
 Mr. Monkton could not bear it. He took the oldest 
 of the servants aside, the wife of that Capel who had 
 been with them at Pontaube, and made her understand 
 the real natui-e and full extent of the misery, and pro- 
 mising to return, and do anything — if, indeed, there 
 were any possible thing to be done — rode away, leaving 
 the burthen of explanation to her. He returned in haste 
 to the town, where every mouth was full of one only 
 subject — the trial of to-moiTow; and, indeed, the morrow
 
 PATTl FERBOLL. 273 
 
 was very near its dawn before discussion of what it 
 would bring forth was over. 
 
 Again a prisoner in the same com*t, and for the same 
 offence, but in how changed a position! His answer 
 now to the question of the challenger was at once 
 "Guilty." "You have evidence against me there?" he 
 said, pointing to a heap which had been covered with a 
 black cloth by one of the attendants of the court, and 
 which was placed on a table. The cloth upon this was 
 removed, and a discoloured box, bound with u'on, ap- 
 peared below, of small dimensions, out-side which was 
 fastened a key. 
 
 The clergyman of the parish where the Tower stood 
 was examined as a witness. "What do you know re- 
 specting this box?" 
 
 "I received a request fi'om the judge last night, at a 
 late horn', to permit and attend the opening of the vault 
 and coffin where the late Mrs. FerroU was buried. By 
 daybreak this morning it was done." 
 
 "^NTiat did you find there?" 
 
 "I found among the remains of the body, and of the 
 grave-clothes, the box which you see." 
 
 "Was there any appearance that the coffin or vault 
 had been opened since the interment?" 
 
 "Xone; tlie vault was closed with masonry." 
 
 "Enough, sir. Open the box." 
 
 It was done; and expectation held all in such silence, 
 that the grating of the key was heard throughout the 
 court. The contents were lifted out; Mr. Ferroll's eyes 
 ilxed upon them with tlie resolution of a man wound up 
 to give no sign of emotion. All others, according to the 
 force or weakness of their nerves, were awaiting the im- 
 pression about to be made. There was a cloth largely 
 
 Paul FerroU. 18
 
 274 rAXJL FEBROLL. 
 
 and darkly stained — tlie red hue in most places had 
 deepened into brown. As it was opened, the emotion 
 of the man who unfolded it, caused liim to drop the ob- 
 ject it contained, and it fell on the table with a clanging 
 sound. He took it up, and showed it. It was a pointed 
 knife with a long handle; and on the handle was some- 
 thing written, not engraved, but plainly worked in with 
 common ink. "Eead it," said the judge. 
 
 "It's a name, my lord." 
 
 "What name?" 
 
 "Paul Fen-oU." 
 
 Another piece of discoloured cambric was next taken 
 out. It was a woman's handkerchief, and in the hand- 
 kercliief Avas A\Tapped a watch. There was besides a bit 
 of parchment, safely secured between two leaves of iron, 
 and on it, when taken from between them, was still 
 easily to be read, "I, Paul Ferroll, did this deed." 
 
 As the disclosure of these things ended, the murmur 
 of popular indignation broke out. There was the stir of 
 human feeling through the court. It was checked by the 
 authorities; and then Mr. Ferroll requesting to be heard, 
 stood statelily before them all, and spoke — "It is not 
 the sight of those objects, nor the position in which I 
 stand, which gives me any new feelings respecting the 
 deed of which I have declared my guilt. I have been 
 aware, from the moment of its commission, that tliis time 
 might come, and have constantly acted Avith a view to it. 
 I took measures which eifectually concealed my crime; 
 and also I took measures by Avhich I might declare it 
 should any other person be in danger of suffering inno- 
 cently for it. The vanity of the poor old creature who 
 was yesterday found guilty, has brought about the cata- 
 strophe. She 13 the only person te whom suspicion could
 
 PAUL FEEBOLL. 275 
 
 attach. Had she escaped, or died, I should have been 
 free to conceal this deed to the end; and I intended to 
 do so. I am not going to speak of what I feel or what 
 I think, respecting my crime. I resolved, when I was 
 eighteen years younger, to commit, and also to conceal 
 it. I have lived with the consciousness of it; and you 
 are just in condemning me. Beware, however, of in- 
 volving; another in mv guilt. Believe that mv deed was 
 
 a thing unsuspected by the wife who by my wife. I 
 
 could as soon have made her person the object of public 
 scorn, as I could have opened to her innocent mind the 
 guilt by which I bought her. She thinks of me as one 
 high in public opinion; as a man above the reproach of 
 the world; as proud, as standing alone. Believe me in 
 this thing — you beheve when I come to confess I have 
 done a deed for which I must die." 
 
 He said all this Avith a clear voice, which only once 
 gave a sign of falteiing; and opinion, which is so easily 
 moved, began to sway towards him; but justice had no 
 relentings, nor could have. There was nothing more to 
 be proved; nothing to be disputed. The great apparatus 
 of the law was reduced to-day to small compass. The 
 prisoner had pleaded guilty, therefore there was no ques- 
 tion for the jury to decide. The judge in few words ex- 
 pressed the horror of the deed, and the danger of for- 
 getting in sight of the prisoner's composure, that the 
 reason for his calmness was the familiarity which his 
 mind had obtained with the subject; and then proceeded 
 to pronounce the last doom of the law — the doom of 
 Death. 
 
 ilr. FcrroU heard it quite unmoved. He had too 
 much the habit of self-control, to appear to feel a thing 
 so entirely expected. "When all was over, and he was 
 
 ■ 18*
 
 276 PAUL FEREOLL. 
 
 to leave the court, he looked round the assemblage, 
 searching for some one. He was looking for Hugh, and 
 his keen eye detected him in a shadowy part of the 
 court. There was such deep misery on Iris face, that 
 Mr. FerroU, who meant to look but for a moment, kept 
 his' eyes fixed on him. Hugh haK rose, observing his 
 look; an almost imperceptible, sad, motion of the head, 
 expiissed that to wliich Hugh knew he alluded. The 
 month was not yet gone which Hugh had engaged to 
 wait; but how ruinously was all over. /Toor, poor 
 Janet!" he said to himself, tears swelling into liis eyes; 
 and to avoid all comment on the scene just passed, he 
 forced his way through the crowd; and as Mr. FerroU 
 was led out to the prison, passed hastily away at the 
 principal entrance. Among those who suffered this day, 
 Hugh had feelings as much torn, and prospects as utterly 
 destroyed, as anv. He had cherished a wish all his life; 
 latterly it had become a hope, and he had given way 
 with all the impetuosity of liis youth to the passion 
 which he had so long nurtured. Now the whole glitter- 
 ing fabric had vanished. The innocent and beautiful girl 
 remained unchanged; but the guilt of which she was so 
 guiltless, separated her from him, as if it had been her 
 shroud. He heard on all sides talk about the trial. He 
 ascertained that the whole of to-morrow would pass be- 
 fore the law was executed; and then leaving the town, 
 and avoiding speech with anyone, he returned to Ins 
 home, long lingering when he came in sight of the 
 Tower, within which such misery was going forward. 
 His sister met him at the door of his own house as he 
 came in. i^he had been weeping, and when she saw 
 him, tears broke out again. "There's more bad news," 
 she said; "poor Mrs. TerroU "
 
 PAUL FEEEOLI/. 277 
 
 "What of her? poor — poor thing!" 
 
 "She's dead, Hugh." 
 
 And they were both too young and prosperous to 
 look upon death as the gentlest doom that fate could 
 bestow upon her. 
 
 ""My mother must go to Janet," said Hugh, "or 
 you." 
 
 "I would if I could be of any use; but they said, 
 for Miss Harden and 1 went to the house the back way, 
 that Janet was not able to speak to anybody. She was 
 in the room with her mother; she died only tliis morning. 
 Mr. — was there about the funeral." 
 
 "But my mother could be of use — won't she go?" 
 
 "She said Janet should come here as soon as the 
 trial is over and Mr. FeiToll comes back — only " 
 
 "Comes back! uay, it is all too tnie." 
 
 "Mamma cannot believe that; but still she says, it 
 is so very unusual for a man to be tried for murder 
 twice, that she tliinks there must be something very odd 
 about him." 
 
 "Oh, Cany, it is bejoud all words sad — and my 
 poor Janet, can notliing be done for her:" 
 
 "I don't tliink there can to-day. Miss Harden said 
 we would go again to-mon'ow, and the housekeeper said 
 that would be best, for she told us, that when she asked 
 Janet what she could do for her, Janet said, 'Will you 
 please to let me be alone with mamma?" 
 
 Hugh turned away, and hid his fiice. Deep, indeed, 
 was the gloom spread over his house, and sadly passed 
 the few hours remaining of the early spring day. They 
 went through the fonn of dinner, for it was little more, 
 and when his mother and sisters had left him, Hugh 
 took liis hat, and in the now darkened evening, wandered
 
 278 PAUL rEEROLL. 
 
 out he did not precisely determine whither. But his 
 steps could take but one path, and that was to the 
 Tower. The gray building was slu'ouding itseK in the 
 dusk; and calm in the silence of approaching night — 
 the garden with early spring flowers, lay in its accus- 
 tomed well ordered condition; and in the meadows Hugh 
 observed by the small lake wliich they enclosed, the 
 swans which had been an ornament and an object of in- 
 terest. The excited mind catches the impressions of 
 small tilings when it is on the stretch with greater. The 
 petted animals who were sharing in the downfall of hu- 
 man beings, and who wondered, according to their 
 power, at the absence of habitual care, struck him among 
 other dismal emotions. He went silently round to the 
 other side of the garden where it lay beneath Mrs. 
 Ferroll's rooms. This side of the house had belonged to 
 her, and four of the windows were those of her bedroom 
 and boudoir. One of the latter was cut low to steps 
 which went down to the garden; and which were her 
 habitual mode of access and egress. The two windows 
 of the bedroom at this time were half open and a narrow 
 gleam of light proceeded from *them — the watch-lamp, 
 doubtless, of the death chamber. Hugh stood by the 
 lower step and strained his ear to catch any sound that 
 might give him intelligence of the deathly house. But 
 there was no step nor voice nor rustle — heavy curtains 
 closed over the open wdndows, and nothing moved with- 
 out or within — oppression and dread were on Hugh's 
 heart; pity for Janet that almost broke it swelled within 
 liim; and the feeling grew, that without seeing her, and 
 at least saying how he mourned with her, it would be 
 impossible to return to his own serene home. He softly 
 and slowly mounted the steps one by one, pushed up
 
 PArL FEEKOLL. 279 
 
 the "window and entered. The open door to the bedroom 
 admitted a faint beam -wliich lighted him, but before he 
 could advance, a step rushed sti'ongly forth to meet him, 
 and Janet stood before lum. "You must not go there," 
 she said, in. a hoarse whisper, and pointing to the door 
 of the bedroom. 
 
 "Janet, it is I," said Hugh, who saw she did not 
 know him. She stopped and gazed a moment. "Hugh! 
 I heard a step and thought it was robbers," then her 
 head sank on her bosom, her hands clasped themselves 
 over her face and she murmured, "I am too bold to 
 speak to you so." 
 
 Hugh beheld her with mute agony. 
 
 "He had not seen her, since in Rod'rick's court 
 A radiant vision in her joy she mov'd:" 
 
 and now, pale and coloiu'less as one wounded to death, 
 a black cloak or mantle wi'apping her in its folds, shame 
 on her brow and in her attitude, she stood, and guiltless 
 and lovely as she was, bowed to the very dust by that 
 which another had done. Hugh caught her hands and 
 gently drew them from her face, bringing a chair near 
 her and inducing her to sit down in it while speechless 
 himself — there was no comfort for Janet, he could 
 but hold her folded hands in his, and caress them 
 with hi.s own, trjing involuntarily to convey liis pity 
 and sympathy by that mute language. At last, "Janet," 
 said he, "is no one near you — are you here all 
 alone?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, but they were very kind to me — they 
 wished to watch but I begged them not. They could 
 go to sleep, and you know I could not." 
 
 "But how cold you are; the night wind blows upon 
 you — don't you feel it very cold?"
 
 280 TXXJJj FEEROLL. 
 
 "No, indeed, I did not know it was cold; but don't 
 stay here; there is too much misery in tliis house." 
 
 "And are you to bear it all alone? — oh, no, no, 
 only let me be of a little use to you." 
 
 "How good you are to think so kindly of me still." 
 
 "Why, wherein have t/02i done the shadow of wrong, 
 Janet?" 
 
 "Oh, but he — he," said Janet, shuddering through 
 
 all her frame. 
 
 "Yet can it fall on your most innocent head?" 
 
 "Oh, but tell me can it be possible tell me what 
 
 horrible dream it is that has come upon us." 
 
 "Janet, it is all true." 
 
 "But they kill those who " 
 
 "Oh, God, my dear Janet; oh, my poor, miserable 
 Janet." 
 
 "Kill him!" repeated Janet, "where is he now? 
 I have never seen him since the moment he went from 
 the door — oh, he is dead already," she cried, starting 
 up, "and I meant to go to him, Hugh." 
 
 "He is alive yet," said Hugh. 
 
 "How long?" 
 
 "The day after to-morrow." 
 
 "One day! oh, sir," cried Janet, smking on the 
 ground before him, "save him. I beseech you have pity 
 upon us. Think what a death — you are come here 
 when aU. else despised and shiinned us — you can be 
 an angel to us — save him." 
 
 "Do you believe I can, and that I do not?" said 
 Hugh. 
 
 "You are the only one," said Janet, "you are free — 
 you loved us once — you caii save him — oh, don't 
 lift me up; the very earth is the best place for me."
 
 PAUL FEKEOLL. 281 
 
 Hugh kneeled beside her — lifted her head on his 
 shou].der; -svarmed her hands — she was silent for a long 
 time, but at last, with an old caressing gesture which he 
 remembered in her early childhood, she laid her hand 
 upon his arm, and looking in his face, said, "Will you 
 save him?" 
 
 "You break my heart, Janet," he cried, striking his 
 forehead vehemently; "you shall be obeyed. I will die 
 sooner than not tiy — but till this moment I should 
 have said it was a sheer impossibility ; and now — now, 
 I say to you, hope nothing — believe me I will try, 
 yet must fail." 
 
 "Only not to die so," said Janet. 
 
 "But your poor mother," said Hugh, trying to quit 
 this worst of subjects. 
 
 "She is very happy to have died," said Janet. "I am 
 glad; she could not but die — but, indeed, / did not 
 understand aU till it had kiUed her — now, however, 
 she looks at peace." They both together moved into 
 the next room while Janet spoke; and went up to the 
 bed, where m the profound calm of death, the beloved 
 and beautiful woman lay. Janet spoke and felt calmly 
 concerning her, but when she came and stood there with 
 a companion, gazing on that inanimate clay, her bosom 
 heaved, her eyes began to overflow, and sinldng down 
 she sobbed in a smothered voice, "Oh, poor mamma, 
 dear mamma!" 
 
 Hugh stood by in inexpressible compassion. His 
 sympathy was the only thing that could touch her, am^ 
 broken words of pity, not comfort, reached her ear. 
 The agitation of her grief did not last long, for, indeed, 
 she was cxhaiistcd with suffering, and it was only when 
 roused by some new circumstance that her tii'ed nature
 
 282 PAUL FEKKOLL. 
 
 broke out into fresli expression. "Janet," he said at 
 last, when he saw her again rise, and grow calm, 
 "there must be things that ought to be done — were 
 no du'ections left you, nothing to do?" 
 ■^ "I don't know," said Janet. "See, he wrote; the 
 letter is there, he told her to open a drawer, and because 
 he said 'for his sake,' she tried to do it — oh, she was 
 dying then." 
 
 "And you found?" 
 
 "Nothing but money," said Janet. 
 
 "That was to provide her against all emergencies." 
 
 "No doubt," said Janet; "come and look into it." 
 She drew open the drawer, and there they found, two 
 packets, one of them seemed directed with ink, not long 
 since, fresh. It was labelled 'to pay bills.' Hugh 
 opened it and found it to contain money for the wages 
 of the servants, and to defray up to the present time 
 current expenses, all of which were detailed on a written 
 paper. The other packet enfolded money to a great 
 amount. There were gold and notes for several thousand 
 pounds. 
 
 "I will take this, Janet," said Hugh. "I will do 
 something for you with this, if it is possible. What 
 else is there to do?" Unopened letters lay on the table, 
 which had arrived this very day. Hugh opened them. 
 Many were receipts for bills, which seemed to have been 
 just paid. There was one letter for Mrs. Eerroll from 
 Mr. Harrowby, briefly saying that the time was come 
 to which he had been long desired to look forward by 
 her husband, when she might be in want of assistance; 
 he had to tell her that for many years an income had 
 been secured for her in the United States, and that in 
 the course of a few days he would come and put her
 
 PAUL FEEEOLL, 283 
 
 into a way for speedily reaching it. There was another 
 letter in a foreign hand — this too he opened. It came 
 from old Lahrotte, who fixed the day for his visit; the 
 conveyance by which he was to travel would reach the 
 county town early this very next morning. Janet wrung 
 her hands, thinking of a time when they were happy. 
 Hugh took possession of the letter, and said it might be 
 of use. "Aud now, dear, dear Janet," he said, "cannot 
 you sleep an hour or two: You are worn out, and ill. 
 Do but lie on this sofa, wrap your cloak round you. 
 I vnR do it." 
 
 "I will try," said Janet meekly. "Thank you. You 
 were always good to me; but now, I did not think any- 
 body coiild be kind again." Bitter tears of shame stole 
 through her fingers, with which she covered her eyes to 
 hide them. Hugh's voice was choked. He knelt down 
 beside her, the instinctive suggestion of nature to do her 
 reverence in her deep abasement; and laying hold of her 
 cloak, kissed it. Janet caught his hand, and pressed it 
 in both hers. He rose, and fervently kissing those cold 
 trembling hands, said, "God bless you, Janet;" and 
 gently departed. Poor Janet lay there a few minutes 
 with wide open eyes, and a heart throbbing with the 
 misery which oppressed her; but she could not bear the 
 position of repose. Before long she started up, and with 
 noiseless foot, as though the dead could be disturbed, 
 walked tlirough and through the apartment. Then she 
 came near the unchanging bed of death, and longed that 
 she likewise might ilee away, and be at rest. She knelt 
 down, and sent her thoughts to Heaven; but how could 
 she pray? The objects of her fond heart were, one 
 beyond the sphere of prayer — and one, who had been 
 her pride, her reverence, oh! where was her but the
 
 284 VXVL FEEEOLL. 
 
 unworded appeal perliaps was heard and answered — 
 for while she laieeled, sleep came down upon her troubled 
 spuit, and with her head bowed on the bed of death, 
 she slumbered. Hugh returned home, only to order his 
 horses, and to tell his mother, who was sitting up in her 
 room awaiting his retui-n, that there was some business 
 to be done iu Bewdy for the Fen'oll family, and that 
 he thought it better to go there at once. Accordingly 
 he did so, canying with him the inoney found at the 
 Tower. 
 
 About eleven o'clock the next morning, a note was 
 brought to Janet, from Mr. Monkton (then- man of busi- 
 ness), begging to see her for a moment, and when she 
 went down to him, he told her that he had been com- 
 missioned by Mr. Bartlett, to bring an old friend, a me- 
 dical man, to the Tower, and to inform her that he had 
 obtained permission for her admission to the prison, 
 and that the gentleman alluded to would accompany her. 
 He himself was to remain at the Tower to make some 
 payments, which Hugh had pointed out, and which it 
 was thought better should be immediately accomplished, 
 and other arrangements. Old Lahrotte upon this came 
 in. Janet had covered her face with a bonnet and veil. 
 She felt that Hugh must have some purpose in sending 
 him; and shrouding herself in her concealment, she re- 
 ceived him, with a word of welcome. 
 
 "You will go?" said Lahrotte. 
 
 "Oh, surely, surely I will go." 
 
 "And how? Mr. Bartlett would have you quick. 
 He said your little pony carriage would be ready soonest. 
 I shall order it."
 
 PAUL FEEBOLL. 285 
 
 ""Wliat you please," said Janet, not questioning any- 
 thing appointed for her to do. Mr. Monkton made no 
 observation whatever. He felt that the presence of any 
 human being, in such a moment, must be torture to 
 Janet, and withdrew without a word, to do what he 
 came for. The little carriage was quickly at the door; 
 and Lahrotte, though the day was mild, wrapped him- 
 self closely iu his cloak, while Janet, shrouding and 
 hiding herself as much as possible from observation, 
 took her place by his side, and they drove rapidly away 
 towards Bewdy. Neither of them said a word during 
 the drive. Every fresh object so struck on Janet's heart, 
 that at last she covered her eyes with her thick cloak, 
 and ventured not to look up again. She felt it was an 
 awful interview that was approaching; to-day was almost 
 more than she could bear; and beyond to-day, she dared 
 not for a moment carry her thoughts. Dut the patience 
 and modesty of her nature buried all expression of this 
 inward tempest, lower than could be penetrated by 
 human eye. At last she felt the rattle of the paved 
 streets, and heard the sound of passers to and fro. Al- 
 most more than before, she shrank under the cover of 
 her thick cloak; but at the most crowded part of the 
 town, and at a moment when they were compelled to 
 move slowly by tlie crowd, Lahrotte for the first time 
 spoke to her, and asked her a question, wluch seemed 
 strange at such a moment, "Whether she could see to 
 tell liim by the market clock what was the hour of the 
 day?" Janet always meek, was now broken, and did as 
 he bade her. She uncovered her face and looked up, 
 and was then aware that several persons were looking 
 at and saw her — their eyes seemed l)uming flames to 
 her, and cowering down again, she did not remark that
 
 2g(3 TArL TEKBOLL. 
 
 M Lahrotte failed to inquire the result of her examina- 
 tion. At last they stopped at the terrible gate of the 
 prison The porter examined their permission, and put 
 down their names; and the gaoler, Captain Eede, came 
 forward to receive them. 
 
 "Yery well, sir, the time will suit exactly," he said 
 to Lahrotte; but Janet heard and heeded not. The 
 reality seemed to grow as she heard bolts and chains 
 behind her, and saw the long passage sti'ongly framed 
 within by walls and yaults. At last the door opened, 
 which held within such a fearful scene for Janet. She 
 stood just within the cell, ti-embling, and malang no 
 step in advance. Her father was Aviiting, but finchug 
 that whoever it was that had entered, did not address 
 him, he turned at last to see who was there, and the 
 shining sunlight fell upon his child. 
 
 "Janet, is it possible you come to see me? Where 
 is your mother?" 
 
 "Mamma is dead," said Janet, her voice sinking like 
 cold snow at the word. 
 
 "Dead!" he repeated. Father and child said no 
 more. He stood as the man wounded to death stands, 
 about to fall. Janet crept towards liim step by step — 
 she was afraid of him; the total pallor of his face his 
 white lips, the dew gathering on his forehead, and his 
 absolute silence, sti'uck her as if death were again pre- 
 sent. She laid her hand on him; she gently, then more 
 strono-ly pulled his arm from its position; she took her 
 .handkerchief, and wiped his forehead, now beginning 
 to cling about him, and calling upon his name. My 
 poor cHld," he said at last, rousing suddenly; "do you 
 cling to me? Have you no safer shelter?"
 
 PATX FEEEOLL. 287 
 
 "Oh, let me stay here," she said, as he put her 
 gently away. 
 
 "This is no place for you. Don't you know what is 
 to be to-morrow?" 
 
 "Xo, no," cried Janet, buiying her head in his 
 breast, and folding her arms about him. "Don't talk so 
 — oh, my father." 
 
 "TMll you still call me father? Alas, poor darling, 
 what have you not yet to go through." It was very 
 rarely that Janet had heard those kindlj- words — the 
 presence, the voice of the being whom she had always 
 so worshipped, put out of remembrance all that had 
 darkened over him the last two days. "Take me with 
 vou wherever you go. Don't leave me alone in the 
 world." 
 
 "Have patience. Ton will be better without me. 
 I am " 
 
 "Xo, no," cried Janet, stopping her ears. "You are 
 my father." 
 
 "But for one short day. Euin, ruiu, indeed. All 
 dark at home; aU darker here. I had thought to have 
 borne all. I forgot all my blessed one and you, mj- 
 child, had to bear. What will become of you to-mor- 
 row.' 
 
 ""We will save you," said Janet, speaking low. 
 "Hugh hopes." 
 
 "Xo one could wish, much less hope that" said Fcr- 
 roU. " Tliere was but one iu the world to whom I could 
 now be dear, and she has died for loving me." 
 
 "Oh, yes, one more; /love you," said Janet. 
 
 "Then you don't know all. In pity to you, they 
 have hidden it from you."
 
 288 PATJI' PEEEOLL, 
 
 "All, all," said Janet, studdering; and ter arms 
 dropped from liis neck. 
 
 "No," lie said calmly: "nor did I expect..." But 
 for the first time in lier life slie interrupted him. 
 
 "Oh, believe me, I love you. I have but you. 
 I never had any but you and mamma. She said, though 
 it was in delirium, 'Save him — die for him.' I would 
 if I could, for love of both. Father, call me child." 
 
 "She said so," he repeated slowly. "Elinor, wife!" 
 He bowed his head; and Janet's tears burst forth. M 
 this moment the door was unlocked, and Captain Eede 
 knocking first, entered. Mr. Ferroll became calm by a 
 mighty eff'ort; and Janet covering her head with her 
 bonnet and veil, concealed her emotion. "Sk," said 
 Captaki Eede, "has the young lady mentioned to you? 
 
 Does she know " 
 
 "Know what?" 
 
 "That you are free if you choose — that is, you 
 have a good chance for freedom. I have resolved to ac- 
 cept the young gentleman's proposal, and having 
 resolved, I am eager — yes, sir, eager, to carry it 
 through." 
 
 "1 do not in the least understand you." 
 "Well I dare say you may not; but a young gentle- 
 man came to me last night — names are notliing — 
 this morning rather; but I was not up; and attacked me 
 in a point where I 'm tender. I have several reasons for 
 wishing myself in the United States with £2fiQ0 in 
 my pocket. It has been the idea before me for a long 
 time; and in my office in this prison, I can live, it is 
 true; but I can't save. Now that sum he puts into my 
 hands to-day, if I open the door for you. It's wrong, I 
 know; nay, it is a great crime."
 
 PATTL FEREOIi. 289 
 
 "Doa't commit it then," said Mr. FerroU. 
 
 But Janet sank at his feet. "Save yourself, father 
 — save me." 
 
 "Aye, for the young lady's sake, who is a tender 
 bird in a rough storm. Xo soul to take her home, inno- 
 cent though she be." 
 
 "I came here knowing all that." 
 
 "Xay; not quite. You did not know the poor lady 
 at home would die of it; and what you came to do, sii', 
 is done; the other life is safe; the old woman was 
 brought into court to-day, to be tiied for the robbery, 
 but clear of all suspicion of the other affair. It was a 
 strange sight. I'll warrant your getting off if you'll 
 undertake it. It's I propose it, sir, though it goes 
 against my integrity." 
 
 "I remember, sir," said Mi'. FeiToU, with a smile, 
 "when you were a candidate for the gaolership, I ob- 
 jected to you on account of a trust betrayed, which was 
 said to be the first, and should be the last." 
 
 "It 's strange enough to cast that in my teeth," said 
 Captain Kede. "I little expected the prisoner to object, 
 if I did not." 
 
 "Oh, yes, listen to me," cried Janet, eagerly flinging 
 herself before him. "For God's sake, for all that is 
 pitying, set us free." 
 
 "You are reasonable, madam," he answered. "There 
 is not many a man would prefer dying a dog's death, 
 when another offers to carry him through, and bear the 
 blame into the bargain." 
 
 "And what is your plan?" said Mr. FeiToll, in whom 
 the doom of to-mon'ow was the fixed idea to which his 
 mind was made up, and admitted none of escape. 
 
 "The plan is good enough," said the Captain, "if the 
 
 Paul I-'erroll. 19
 
 290 PAUL FEEEOLl. 
 
 actors are willing. It is now near one o'clock, when 
 the workmen go to dinner, and the streets are fullest, 
 so that nobody looks much at anyone ia particular. Your 
 little chaise is at the door; that was a notion of the 
 French gentleman, to unlooh^ as he said, lUce an escape. 
 And he tells me, he made it be observed as he came in, 
 that it was Miss Ferroll, and so the carnage will_ be 
 taken no notice of when she goes out; but all that is a 
 finesse^ as he calls it, which I think does neither good 
 nor harm. Then I have his cloak here for you which 
 he kept well about his face, and under his hat so, and 
 jabbered a little Trench at coming in, which he says 
 you have the trick of, as well as himself. You will go 
 out with the young lady and me, as if you were the 
 French gentleman, and get into the chaise, and drive 
 a^ay ■ — homewards, I advise, and hide in or near 
 home, where they AviU be least likely to seek you, till 
 you can get on board a ship, and away." 
 
 "But what becomes of M. Lahrotte?" said Mr. Fer- 
 roll; "and of you?" 
 
 "He will wait in my room as long as possible, and 
 at last ring to ask where I am, and say I told him I 
 must go out, but should be back in haK-an-hour. Then 
 I suppose it wni come out. Inquiry will prove that I 
 went out two hours ago with the French gentleman; 
 but the French gentleman is still there. With whom 
 then did I go? and so. on, sir. You should see him act- 
 ing the scene winch is then to take place, sir. I am 
 only afraid he will over act it." 
 
 "And if he does?" 
 
 "Suspicion might fall on him; but I think it is very 
 unlikely. He bade me tell you, he should not regret 
 it, and that even if he were detained for a time, his
 
 PATTL FEEEOLI, 291 
 
 Toung friend had provided that his age should profit by 
 his leetle succor." 
 
 "And you, sir?" said Mr. Fen-olI, in whom, the first 
 reviral of the idea of life "«Tought, though slowly. 
 
 "I shall walk down the street deliberately as you 
 drive off"; but the by-lanes of the town are not far, and 
 once there, I will change and rechange my dress, so 
 that a person veiy unlike myself will speedily be on 
 the way to America." 
 
 "There is another person yet," said ilr. Fen'oll. 
 "The young gentleman whom you mentioned r" 
 
 "I protest he is safe," said Captain Eede. "We had 
 better not talk about liim." 
 
 ""W'itliout more assurance of that, I cannot move," 
 said Mr. Fen'oll. 
 
 "Pshaw, sir, I give you my word of honour. How 
 can you delay for a notion of that kind, when I tell you 
 he is perfectly safe?" 
 
 "Because it is of far more consequence that he should 
 be safe in name and reputation than that I should live," 
 and lie turned away. 
 
 "Father," cried Janet, appealingly. Captain Eede 
 touched her arm, but she thought of her fixther only, 
 and pressed up to Ivim. 
 
 "Well," said Captain Rede, "I must betray secrets 
 then; here, madam, is a letter the gentleman gave me 
 for you, but I fancied it was to have been between you 
 two in private." 
 
 "Oh, liow impossible," cined Janet, opening it, and 
 liolding it to Mr. FerroU to read Avith her. It was 
 tliis: — 
 
 "Tlie money in the iron drawer is sufficient for 
 cverj-tldng; I inclose to you what remains. I sened 
 
 19*
 
 292 TXXTL PEREOLL. 
 
 you to the best of my power, for you were my one 
 ti-easure on earth; and fear nothing for me; I am safe. 
 You think for everybody; that I know, and will use 
 the means of safety the more readily, because I tell you 
 I am safe. May God bless you, brave, good, dearest 
 Janet." 
 
 Mr. FerroU read it, and a sigh that was a groan, 
 burst from his Hps. 
 
 "WeU, sir?" said Captain Eede. 
 
 "Sir, let us attempt it," he answered. He took up 
 the letter, and would have folded it, then seemed to re- 
 collect himself, and gave it to Janet. "Alas, poor child, 
 it is all that remains to you of earthly happiness," he 
 said, and Janet, who would have taken it fearlessly 
 but for that word, sobbed uncontrollably beliind her 
 veil, and pressed the paper once and again to her lips. 
 But she mastered the emotion and stood silently by 
 wliile Captaia Eede adjusted the cloak about her father. 
 Before undertaking the escape of his prisoner, the gaoler 
 went out to see that no one was near to obsen'e the 
 apparent French gentleman coming from the chamber 
 which he was known not to have entered; and when 
 they had passed Captain Eede's own door, he considered 
 them safe, as it was natural to suppose that at that 
 point the French gentleman had joiaed Janet, and was 
 now to accompany her home again. 
 
 Accordingly they proceeded unseen beyond the point 
 of danger, and then Captain Eede breathed freely, as if 
 all difficulty were passed. He had Janet's arm under 
 his, and was amazed that it should be so firm; even 
 when they met a servant of the prison, which they did 
 more than once, it never quailed. It was only at last
 
 PAUL FEEKOLL. 293 
 
 when the porter had to luilock the door, and they stood 
 to have then- names put down, that he felt her lingers 
 gTasp his arm. He sliook them roughly, and spoke out, 
 "Peters, I am obliged to go out for halt-an-hom\ If 
 any one calls, say I am with my Lord Ewyas, and shall 
 1)e back as soon as I can get away. Miss Ferroll's car- 
 riage," he cried, as the door closed beliind them; and 
 the groom aroused from his colloquy with a dozen per- 
 sons round him, hastily drew up. "Poor young lady, 
 poor thing; out of the way, felloAvs," he said, "how can 
 you stare so? There, ma'am, there — now, mounsicur. 
 Ah! a teiTible, ten'ible business. Good bye, sii- — bonn 
 jour — adew!" and he saw them drive off". He acted 
 liis part perfectly, looked after them for a few moments, 
 then Avithout any appearance of too much or too little 
 concern, walked deliberately towards the judges' lodgings, 
 ■where the Lord-Lieutenant had an apartment, and dis- 
 appeared from the eyes of the spectators, who, indeed, 
 had other things to do than to think of him. 
 
 "Everytliing depends on speed, Janet," said Mr. Fer- 
 roll, speaking to her in French. "We have two hours' 
 advantage, and must hazard all to profit by it. Tell the 
 groom to go to the Harold's Spear, and order a chaise 
 to go instantly to the Tower by the Lorton road, for 
 a gentleman going to Upti-uck. A\'e must wait here." 
 
 Janet gave the directions required, and in the ti-ans- 
 port of her eagerness for his return, forgot how indif- 
 ferent to all existing things she would have been and 
 would have appeared, had her father been in the prison 
 where he was supposed to be. Several persons saw her 
 white face, as she strained her eyes to see the servant 
 returning, but she observed nothing, till one of these in 
 passing, raised his hat to her as he went by. Instantly
 
 294 PAUL FEEEOLL. 
 
 she shrank into herself, cowering behind her veil, with 
 such a throb at her heart as gives one vital blow to the 
 fine human frame which at last is to perish under the 
 various influences of decay; but the groom came back, 
 and they again proceeded. Once agaia in motion, the 
 crowded state of the streets prevented, as Captain Eede 
 had foretold, attention from being du'ected towards them; 
 and threading their way as fleetly as possible, so as not 
 to obstruct that of any one else, they reached in safety 
 the outskirts of the town, and went on at the fastest 
 trot of the ponies towards the Tower. All familiar ob- 
 jects rose and sank before them as they pursued their 
 way, but neither spoke; neither in that excited moment 
 was sensible of the full impression the last time of 
 seeing all this was calculated to excite. It was not till 
 they were at the summit of the hill, whence the Tower 
 on its knoll surmounting the narrow valley appeared, 
 that the anguish of the time forced itself into words. 
 "And she is there, all alone. Oh! wife, wife." Such 
 was the exclamation in a low tone which forced itself 
 from Mr. FerroU's lips as he looked down on the gray 
 house; and at the same time there floated up the so- 
 lemn swing of the church bell, which once in every 
 minute gave out mourning for their dead. The interval, 
 during which sound quite died away, and then returned 
 with a loud deep clang, heard from the distance, very 
 far over the silent landscape, smote on the hearts of 
 each with renewed torture every time. Janet wept 
 abundantly; Mr. FerroU bore the torture silently, yet 
 felt it harder to await the repetition of the measured 
 tone, because another was di-eading and suffering from 
 it beside him. The good-hearted groom shed tears also; 
 he, as well as his young mistress, and her French com-
 
 PAUL FEKEOLL. 295 
 
 panion, as he deemed him, knew for vrhom the bell 
 was tolling. 
 
 Thev had now entered the road where the carriasre 
 from the inn was to turn towards the Tower, and where, 
 by taking an opposite direction, they would get into the 
 road for London; and thej" could only move slowly on, 
 until their much longed-for means of escape should ap- 
 pear in sight. Janet's ear first distinguished the sound 
 of wheels. "It 's coming, father," she said, and in a 
 minute more the veliicle appeared passing over the ridge 
 of the hili, and making towards them. Mr. Ferroll got 
 out of the pony-chaise and helped down Janet. 
 
 "Lawrence must know me," he said, and giving the 
 reins to the groom, in his usual tone he said, "Is that 
 the carriage you ordered?" The man, little accustomed 
 to meet any emergencies except on horseback, stared at 
 lum with the most alarmed countenance, the most in- 
 comprehensive; and when his master repeated the ques- 
 tion, nothing suggested itself to him to say or do, except 
 to touch his hat and answer, "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Listen to me, then. I am going away; you thought 
 you brought an old French gentleman back with Miss 
 FerroU, did you not?" 
 
 "I thought so, sir," said the groom, looking round. 
 
 " Well, then, merely avoid saying you did, or did not. 
 (>o home, and say nothing till you are asked. When 
 you are asked, say your young mistress and the old 
 French gentleman went on the south road in a post car- 
 riage. Can you do this?" said Mr. Ferroll, putting into 
 his hand a bank note of ^ 10. Tliis sight and sum 
 opened liis eyes to what was the real state of the case, 
 more than the actual sight of his master had done, but
 
 29G PAUL FEEKOLL. 
 
 at the same time operated upon him as a sudden tie and 
 bond, faster for the moment than death. 
 
 "I'll do it; I'll do anything, sir," he said. 
 
 "Go home, then; mind, it is the only thing you can 
 do," and walking a few yards to meet the chaise, so as 
 to prevent the groom from communicating with the 
 postilion, Mr. FerroU opened the carriage before the 
 postilion had time to dismount, and following Janet in, 
 bade him, imitating a foreign accent, but without any 
 explanation or comment, drive to Upti'uck, the first stage 
 on the London road. The man might think it all strange 
 if he would, but he had no reason to dispute the order; 
 and in a time when the Ferroll family was known to be 
 in such a depth of distress, it did not seem unaccountable 
 tliat the daughter should be removed from the scene of 
 their tragedy. This, indeed, was the version which he 
 gave at the next stage, and which, if Mr. FerroU had 
 known it, would have made him less scrupulous in 
 enjoining speed on the next driver, an injunction he was 
 afraid at first to press, lest he should awaken any suspi- 
 cion of the true state of the case, and so overthrow the 
 enterprise in its commencement. However, as he 'got 
 further from home, he believed the mode in which he 
 and his companion first began their journey, must have 
 lost itself in the transmission from mouth to mouth, and 
 now ventured to quit his disguised pronunciation, and 
 to urge speed by every possible inducement, leading it 
 to the imagination of the innkeepers and drivers to 
 assign such motive as they pleased for his haste, and 
 perhaps enabling the pursuers, who must by this time be 
 on his track, to follow it up more directly, but still the 
 advantage of flying quickly before them far more than 
 compensated the power he might give them to pursue.
 
 PAUL FEREOLL. 297 
 
 In fact, M. Lahi-otte had been obliged to betray him- 
 self sooner than he intended, and thereby to hasten the 
 time, Avhich he had been anxious to postpone, of pursuit. 
 He had established himself as much in the attitude of a 
 waiting and expecting man as he could; had half written 
 a letter as if to kill time; had opened a book; had 
 rumpled the newspaper, and was intending to wait at 
 least half an hour longer, when a sharp knock came at 
 the door of liis room, and the servant of the gaol opened 
 it, announcing that Lord Ewyas and Mr. — were below 
 waiting to speak to Captain Eede. 
 
 "And me also, I desii-e the same thing myself," said 
 Lahi'otte; "why he comes not?" 
 
 "Thought he was here, sir, beg pardon," said the 
 man, going out again. 
 
 "Here's the moment," said Labrotte to himself, but 
 he resumed as well as he could the air and attitude of 
 a man weaiy ■with waiting; and in a veiy short time 
 another messenger came running, and begging to know 
 whether the gentleman could tell where the Captain 
 went. 
 
 "I shaU not tell you," said M. Labrotte; "what he 
 telled me is, he goes to one milord Ooiascr" This 
 answer being reported by the somewhat puzzled mes- 
 senger, brought Lord Ewj-as in person, who in his own 
 language gained from M. Labrotte all he chose to tell, 
 and caused the porter at the door to give the information 
 that the Captain went out after seeing Miss FerroU. and 
 the French gentleman into the carriage. Suspicion, in- 
 vestigation, and conAiction of the truth noAV followed so 
 quickly, that there was little time for Labrotte to act the 
 scene upon which he had so set his imagination; and 
 indeed most of tlie details into which it had been his
 
 298 PAUL r^EKOLL. 
 
 purpose to enter, were lost in the rapidity with which 
 the impromptu actors performed their real parts, and with 
 which looking upon him as an instrument in the hands 
 of others, they hastily consigned him to temporary de- 
 tention, and organized a pursuit both for the gaoler and 
 the prisoner. The traces of the latter were very easy to 
 follow — the thin French disguise was penetrated at 
 once, and the postilion who had gone as far as Uptruck, 
 set them at once on the right road. A carriage was 
 ordered, and four horses; "he is not a couple of hours 
 before us, haying gone round by the Lorton road and 
 all." Very true, but two horses draw an unloaded post 
 chaise as swiftly as four, and a couple of hours in ad- 
 vance remains therefore a couple of hours. Yet every- 
 where they were no more than that a-head. Every- 
 where, it was perfectly easy to ascertain their course, 
 any accident, the want of horses, the loss of a wheel, an 
 upset, going at the pace they were described to go, would 
 bring them within the grasp of the pursuers — even the 
 very last stage the pursuers were lucky, for they met the 
 post boy not a mile out of London returning to Barnet, 
 who said he had deposited them at Steven's Hotel in 
 Clifford Street, thus guiding the chase at once, even 
 amid the maze of the capital. A pang of suspicion 
 struck the pursuers that it was too great luck to think 
 of finding them where they had been an hour ago, yet 
 the chase was so exciting, and the chance so far possible 
 of lighting upon them that they urged on like hounds 
 upon a very hot scent. Out ran the waiter to the four 
 clattering horses, the landlord himself among the 
 number. 
 
 "Sii"," said one of the pursuers, commanding his 
 emotion, "is a gentleman here, perhaps may have been
 
 PAUL PEEKOLl. 299 
 
 here an hoiir or more, "«ith a young lady in black? 
 Came on the north road." 
 
 "Yes, sh-, came just at two o'clock, sir, and it's now 
 half-past three." 
 
 "Can I speak to them?" 
 
 "Certainly, sir; will you please to walk up to their 
 room. They've walked out at present, but will soon be 
 back." 
 
 "Oh," groaned ]VIr. — . 
 
 [Meantime where were Mr, Ferroll and Janet? In no 
 better nor worse place than a lodging in Baker Street. 
 Mr. Ferroll had thought, and perhaps justly, that no 
 wilderness could be so great as the unvaried unifonnitj^ 
 of houses in Baker Street. He thought they would be 
 nearly the last places suspected, and nearly the hardest 
 to individualize — therefore, when they left Stevens's 
 hotel, they turned into Bond Street and walked steadily 
 fonvard, until Mr. FeiToU, whose eyes were carefully 
 alive to everything, observed a hackney carriage with 
 drooping horses come slowly along the street; and con- 
 jecturing, but forbearing to inquire, that the jaded 
 animals were probably from a distant stand, and would, 
 after conveying liimsclf and Janet, go out of the way of 
 inqmrers, beckoned to it, and ordered the driver to Baker 
 Street, giv'ing him the address of a shop which he 
 happened to recollect. Here they alighted, and were 
 rejoiced to hear the driver ask for a tip, on the plea of 
 being from the City, and having come out of the way to 
 accommodate the gentleman. [Mr. Ferroll added a slight 
 gratuity, made a tx'iiliijg purchase in the shop, and again 
 they walked on. The patient, silent Janet proceeded at 
 las side, but too many emotions, too much fatigue were 
 wearing doAvn her frame. She had been in London but
 
 300 PAUL FEEKOLX. 
 
 once before, and that so lately — and the peace, the 
 cherished safety, the health and spirit, and enjoyment of 
 that time seemed to her now like burning sunlight to 
 outwearied eyes. All that was left behind at the home 
 she was never to see again, all the agitation of the 
 prison and the journey, the bodily fatigue, and the 
 misery of the present moment nearly exceeded the 
 power of even the finely organized frame, and mind, 
 which endured it; still she was silent; and her father, 
 buiaed in his own thoughts, failed to observe his patient 
 child. And before she quite gave way, they reached a 
 door where lodgings were set forth, and inside the 
 shelter of whose entrance, father and child were glad to 
 find themselves. It was easy to say they had arrived 
 that day and had walked out in search of an apartment, 
 and would send for their baggage if they liked tliis one, 
 and in a short time the bargain was made and money 
 paid in advance, Janet still standing by her father's side. 
 But the indifferent eye of the stranger, when set upon 
 small courtesies, often sees what the careless eye of the 
 nearer kindred overlooks — and the woman of the house 
 compassionately set a chair for Janet, and pitied the 
 young lady for looking so tired. Then her father noticed 
 her, and was struck with the change in her appearance. 
 It flashed through his mind how she had looked when 
 she entered his sitting room before Lady Ewyas's ball, 
 all bright with pleasxu'e and expectation. "Yes, you're 
 tired," said he, "the journey was fatiguing — rest on 
 the sofa, till I come back; I will return to the oifice, for 
 what we have left, and be here again before dark." 
 
 "Oh, are you going out?" cried Janet, starting up. 
 "Let me go with you, pray?" 
 
 The woman of the house smiled. "jS'ay, miss, don't
 
 PArL FEEEOLL. 301 
 
 be afraid to stay with me; your papa won't be long, I'll 
 be bound." 
 
 Janet did more than smile, she laughed at this ad- 
 dress; and Mr. Fen-oU measiu-ed her exhaustion more 
 justly by that imnatural expression than by any other 
 symptom. He dismissed the woman on some trifling 
 errand, and then sat down, and spoke calmly to Janet, 
 placing her in an easy chau", and laying his hand on 
 her arm. 
 
 "We have prospered — thanks to you, Janet — so 
 far. There now remains the difficulty of getting on 
 board some vessel, no matter where bound — that must 
 be done to-night, for no doubt the pursuit has already 
 reached London; therefore, I must hazard sometliing. I 
 -will put myself into a cab, and get down to the river; 
 if we can't get on board to-night, we are safer here than 
 anwhere else. Wait for me. On no consideration, 
 nor under any emergency, leave this house till you 
 sec me, or have undoubted news of me. AVait — rest 
 — eat; you will serve me better so, than in any other 
 manner." 
 
 Janet's heart died -within her; to lose sight of him 
 seemed to her to lose him for ever. Eemonstrance rose 
 to her lips, half uttered itself, but he would hear nothing, 
 and her passive habits in the family prevented her from 
 speaking. Yet, when he was gone from the room, and 
 she heard him descending the stairs, the anguish was 
 too much for her; she sprang up, and rumiing to the 
 landing-place, saw him still there, muffling his throat 
 and face in a concealing neckercliief, tried to speak, 
 then paused, for he was in her sight; then, as he laid 
 his hand on the door, uttered his name, but lie did not 
 hear; and as the door turned on its hinges, louder and
 
 3^2 pxVL FEEKOLL. 
 
 more resolutely — "Papal" but he was gone. "Gone! 
 oh, shall I ever see him agam?" 
 
 And now Janet was left to the worst anguish of 
 suspense. To have seen her no one could have con- 
 jectured the fever that was raging in her bosom. When- 
 ever the woman of the house came in, she found her 
 lymg m the chair which she herself had put near the 
 hre, and back m which Janet quickly threw herself on 
 the_ opening of the door, or apparently engaged in par- 
 talojig of the tea wliich the good woman had prepared 
 lor her, or reading a book which had lain on the table 
 ajid wHch she mechanically held in her hand; but of its 
 contents she m vain tried to possess herself, even while 
 the time was yet passing durhig which it was impossible 
 to expect his return. She had calculated, as far as she 
 was able, how long he would be in going, how Ion- in 
 returning, how long there; and had even added half an 
 Jiour to the calculation, that she might be sure not to 
 expect him too soon; and during that time had resolved 
 to allow of no fear if she could help it. But when the 
 limit of that time drew near, she began to dread that 
 the ample space thus aUowed should end and not bring 
 him; for how should she after that account to her imao-i- 
 nation for a yet longer time. And when it passed — 
 when a quarter and half-an-hour passed — and still he 
 came not, the idea began to grow fixed that he never 
 could retnm; the unworded notion arose that if it were 
 possible he should retui-n she should be happy, but tliat 
 It was a hope gone by. But tliis notwithstanding', she 
 waited, and expected, and heard every sound, and feared 
 to hope It was the right one; detected at once it was the 
 AVTong, and yet hoped again it might prove right. Then 
 silence came again; tlie step she had heard on the stairs
 
 PAUL FEKKOLL. 303 
 
 mounted and passed her door; the sti'cet-door was open 
 to a knock more than once, but the person entering 
 spoke in a strange voice; several times the house -bell 
 was rung, and then for five, nay, for ten minutes after, 
 Janet stood waiting with gnawing impatience for a note 
 or a messenger. If the mistress of the house entered 
 within that time, Janet's eyes devoured her, her hands 
 wrung each other under her black shawl, but her gentle 
 voice still controlled itself to answer the inditferent 
 remark, or the still more tortui'ing question which came 
 at last, "Do you tliink, miss, yoiu* papa will come to- 
 night?" When it came to this length of time, her im- 
 patience for the sight or sound of liim became incon- 
 trollablc. It was like the frenzy of hunger — the ear 
 ached, the heart bounded rather than beat, her head 
 burned, and for the twentieth time she tlung open the 
 window, and stretched herself into the night air. The 
 steady roll of carriages at inteiwals passed along the 
 street, foot passengers went and came, the bright lamps 
 showed the whole stretch of the unifonn houses. A man 
 walking opposite stopped and looked up at the house; it 
 seemed he onl}- stopped to light his cigar, yet he came 
 across the street, and she heard a veiy low yet distinct 
 voice, pronounce "Jeanette!" She stooped out, a pang 
 of hope shooting tlirough her heart. 
 "C'cst moi," she answered. 
 
 "La poursuite est des plus achamees. Descends." 
 Xow Janet was nerved again; she ceased to tremble, 
 ceased to suffer. The only difficulty was to get out of 
 the house unseen; but her lightest foot passed along like 
 mere snow falling, her dexterous hand Tuibancd the 
 door almost like satin, and she was out in tlie street, 
 and with trembling hand grasping his arm. It was.
 
 304 
 
 PATTL FEKBOLL. 
 
 indeed', her father, and without a moment's pause he 
 moved^ on with her quickly, told her that as was natural 
 the ships in the port were objects of search, and he was 
 aware of having more than once met persons in pursuit 
 of liimself; but that down the river he had met with a 
 small Spanish vessel just ready to sail, which had agreed 
 to delay an hour while he came back for Janet; that he 
 had satisfied the captain of the certainty of great reward 
 if he landed them in safety on the coast of Spain or 
 Portugal, and had so engaged him that it was his own 
 interest to take them. Therefore, though the hour must 
 be exceeded before they could get back, he had good 
 hopes of being waited for. 
 
 He had left a hackney caniage just in Oxford Street, 
 and springing into it with his daughter, the driver set 
 off at his best speed back to the City. 
 
 "Without me you would have been already in safety," 
 said Janet. 
 
 "Without you safety would have been little worth 
 having," said her father. 
 
 ISTeither spoke again. Mr. FerroU was passive, vrrapped 
 up in a cloak in one corner; Janet was keenly alive to 
 the stoppages, the hills they came to, the slow pace oc- 
 casionally necessitated by some great dray before them; 
 but she hardly knew where they were going. She con- 
 fused the present with the past journey, when she had 
 been in haste to get home to the Tower to tell her 
 mother of the ball, and she fancied something had gone 
 wi'ong with her pretty dress. Then she roused herself, 
 and thought her father had been in some great peril; 
 yet, no, how foolish, there he was safe: yet, why did 
 she feel as if he were not the same father whom Lord 
 Ewyas had been so proud to get to his house? She re-
 
 PAUL FEEEOLI. 305 
 
 fraincd from speaking, ho-svever, though she had gi-eat 
 inclination to talk, and she fancied there was something 
 dreadful behind from which they oiight to fly quicker. 
 At last her father's voice stopping the carriage roused 
 her. "Janet, can yon walk a little way, though I'm 
 afraid you ai'e tired: fm-ther on, the ship's boat will be 
 waiting for us, if they have had patience." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I'll try," said Janet, and quickly followed 
 him. 
 
 He paid the driver, and taking her arm under his 
 went on over the wharves, and among great packages 
 and cables. Janet tried to keep up, but her head was 
 so giddy she did not know where she went, except by 
 clinging to his ann. Xext she seemed to lose her footing, 
 and ceasing to feel the earth, to be home UTesistibly 
 through the air. She uttered one cry, suppressed so 
 as to be a low though a shrill one, "Save me!" and the 
 last thing she remembered was feeling herself falling 
 down what seemed to her an endless precipice, and 
 caught in her father's arms. Janet knew no more : friend 
 or foe, pursuit or safety, the boat found or gone, sea or 
 land, aU was long a blank to Janet. Her brain was 
 iired by the miseries and excitement of the last few 
 days, and ceased to be conscious of impressions from 
 without. At last there seemed to grow over her a long 
 unknoM-n feeling of ease and rest — a something to 
 which she was sensible, and which might be the feeling 
 of a summer leaf long tomiented by the winds, till 
 driven at last to the base of some shcltei-ing rock. She 
 seemed to herself to lie at peace, and that consciousness 
 was enough, and not to be disturbed by any effort on 
 her part. Even of that she became soon unaware, and 
 knew no more; and then after a long interval roused to 
 
 Paul Ferroll. 20
 
 306 PAUL FEEKOIL. 
 
 stronger perception, unclosed her eyes, stretched out her 
 hand, and was conscious that life again heaved in her 
 bosom. She did not know the place where she was. 
 The air was warm and perfumed, the windows shaded, 
 the room quite a stranger to her. An elderly woman, 
 with a black silk mantle on her head and over her 
 shoulders, spoke to her. She did not understand the 
 meaning, but she knew the words were Spanish. Then 
 the tide of recollection rolled back, and the black cold 
 night came full before her, which was the last thing she 
 recollected. 
 
 "My father!" she said, rising as well as she could. 
 
 The woman had gone to the window, and beckoned, 
 and in another minute Mr. FerroU stood by her bed- 
 side. 
 
 "Can you still love me, Janet?" said he. 
 
 "Love you? Oh, yes — my father!"
 
 CONCLUDING NOTICE. 
 
 20*
 
 COXCLUDIXG NOTICE. 
 
 Mr. Ferroll and Janet, as soon as the latter re- 
 covered strengtli, took ship, and crossed the Atlantic to 
 Boston, in which city he had by degi'ees accumulated a 
 very considerable sum of money, as Mr. HaiTowb}' had 
 MTitten word to poor EHnor. This money was in Elinor's 
 name and in Janet's; he had nothing to do with it, for 
 however fixed his eye had been upon the future, he 
 had never contemplated more than two possibilities for 
 liimself: either that he should be led by circumstances 
 to declare his crime and die for it; or that circumstances 
 should remove the only person liable to be falsely 
 suspected, and leave the secret for the future impene- 
 trable. But that he should live and Elinor be dead, 
 had not entered into any speculation of liis. Fate is 
 stronger than the stroiigest man, and had dislocated his 
 conclusions. He had not, therefore, a sliilling, and was 
 glad of it. 
 
 Janet was put into possession of the whole sum 
 under her father's christian name of Paul, in wliich it 
 liad been secured, and by which they now went; and 
 telling her it -was lus will that she should entu'ely dis- 
 pose of it, she did so, with admirable simplicity, asking 
 his advice and following it as if she had still free
 
 310 PAUL FEKROLI. 
 
 choice; although advice from him was to her immutable 
 law. 
 
 Except that one word, "Janet, can you still love 
 me?" notliiug ever passed between them respecting his 
 situation. Conversation might even come upon the veiy 
 crime which had been his ruin, and cause no emban'ass- 
 ment; for Fate and Necessity were not stronger than 
 seemed the impossibility of applying to liim that crime 
 which both were so darkly conscious that he had com- 
 mitted. It was as if he were two men: one with regard 
 to a deed which had been told and could not be for- 
 gotten; and one in his outward deportment and to Janet, 
 in all but her inner, unworded consciousness. In one 
 sense, he had done that, which in the other was like a 
 thing which did not exist. 
 
 ]S"either did he ever mention that name which used 
 to be ever on his lips. — "Your mother," never escaped 
 him. His silence on both subjects was equal, but the 
 character of the silence was different. It seemed as if 
 respecting himself he were imapproachable ; but respect- 
 ing her, he were a wounded man, multiplying cover- 
 ings that his naked wound might avoid the touch. He 
 had no memorial of her, for had they not escaped with 
 bare life? Neither did either ever wear black for her; 
 but Janet, who observed everytMng, saw that her father 
 never again gathered a flower, nor, if one were casually 
 offered him, kept it in his hand or on his person; he 
 never murmured the notes of an air, or walked in the 
 calm moonshine or still morning with his old deliberate 
 pace; on the contrary, he would close his eyes some- 
 times on the more exquisite shapes and hues of Nature, 
 as if his spirit were unable to endure them, especially 
 when they came unexpectedly upon him. Still he suf-
 
 PAUL FEEEOLL, 311 
 
 fered in silence; and Janet, who would fain have re- 
 lieved her heart at times by sjieaking, suffered too. 
 
 ilr. Fcrroll (or 'Mr. Paul, as he was called in Boston) 
 easily found literary work to do, wliich supplied him 
 with what money he wanted for personal expenses, and 
 which he silently prevented Janet from daring to offer 
 him; and he was brought into connexion with various 
 persons by this means, who perceived liis merit, and 
 were desirous of his acquaintance. But these claims he 
 scarcely admitted — nor, indeed, could he have rewarded 
 them as in England; for liis powers of conversation were 
 eitlier gone, or else he had no longer the spring within, 
 to caU them into action. Janet could judge only by 
 circumstances what it was that occupied his thoiights, 
 for his talk to her was of books or business, while his 
 heart and Jier's were far away. 
 
 For instance, she had a little housewife which her 
 mother liad made, and which, from long use, she had 
 ceased to connect habitually witli her mother. She had 
 often used it, still workhig silently in the evening; but 
 not now at pretty ornaments of life, but neatly and 
 plainly sewing at a seam, or hemming the edge of a 
 collar. It occurred to her one day, that the sight of 
 this book might pain her father; and blaming herself 
 for thoughtlessness, she laid it carefully aside, and em- 
 ployed some other box or bag instead. 
 
 Tlie second evening that she did so, her father, 
 breaking a silence, said to her, quickly and suddenly, 
 "Janet, have you sucli a tiling? I want a silk thread." 
 
 Janet looked up, colouring, trjong to know what the 
 words meant, beyond what they said. The next momcut 
 she gave him exactly what he asked for, and said 
 notliing at the time ; but next morning she took the little
 
 312 PAUL FEEEOLL, 
 
 book out of its foldings of silver paper, in which she 
 had laid it by, kissed it, and then put it iu their com- 
 mon room, near her father's letters, which she knew he 
 would come m a few minutes to seek. She herself 
 moved silently and swiftly away, and taking up her 
 great straw hat in the entrance, went out to the garden, 
 and thence along Summer Street, for a couple of hours, 
 under the chestnut trees. 
 
 Her father was writing when she returned. She 
 put down her hat, and stood for a moment looking for a 
 book, neither of them speaking; then he rose, and 
 drawing her towards him, passionately kissed her hair, 
 and pressed lier against himself, but said nothing — 
 even avoided her eyes — and resumed his seat, trying 
 to write again; but Janet perceived that his pen stopped, 
 and that his hand was thrust into his bosom, where 
 j)robably the little embroidered book unconsciously was 
 moved by the throbbings of his heart. 
 
 The winter of that sad year came on; the severe yet 
 brilliant -winter, which acted on Janet's youthful frame 
 with healthy influence, and seemed to brace the hidden 
 spring of hope, whose elasticity had been so slackened 
 by trouble. Her father had sought and found for her a 
 companion — an Englishwoman who had married ia 
 Boston, and whose husband had died after a few years 
 of unruflled, but unmarked, married life. She was a 
 ladylike, common-place sort of person of good sense, and 
 useful to Janet, as a sensible woman is to a young ghi. 
 They took exercise together, and at Mr. FeiToU's request, 
 Mrs. Fowler found errands to do here and there, which 
 required the exliilarating conveyance of a sledge. Janet's 
 health grew firm again, but she could not be allured 
 into any long absence from her father, especially when
 
 PAUL FERKOLL, 313 
 
 she perceived, as she did almost as soon as any outer 
 symptom appeared, that whereas her strength was re- 
 viying, his was giving way. He had always been 
 abstemious, with keen appetite for the little he ate; but 
 now she saw that the food on his plate was often sent 
 away nearly untouched. He suffered from the cold, 
 and impatiently wrapped himself in fur, and raised the 
 temperature of the close, stove-heated rooms. She heard 
 him going late to rest, and sometimes he would appear 
 late in the morning; sometimes rise early, and ask for 
 cold water even in those freezing days. Mrs. Fowler 
 thought there was nothing the matter, because he said 
 nothing. Janet was willing to believe her, but was too 
 intensely interested to be deceived. Still, whatever in- 
 quiry she ventured to make of him, was silenced kindly 
 but decidedly, and liis habitual reserve and self-control, 
 concealed fi'om her for a long time the fierceness of the 
 fever which was preying on his life. 
 
 One night he allowed that his head ached, and dis- 
 liking the light of the lamp, he would go to bed, where 
 he should be most at ease. Mrs. Fowler was not present 
 — she scarce ever was when Mr. Ferroll was in ,the 
 room. Janet obsei'vcd that he seemed to feel for his 
 candle rather than take it at once, and, very much 
 alarmed, took it up and carried it for him; a service he 
 did not resist, but even laid his hand on her shoulder 
 as he went up stairs, to stead}' liimself. His bmTiing 
 hand felt burning through her di'ess, and she ventured 
 to say, "Lidecd, you are very iU." 
 
 "I think so, Jeannie," said he. "To-moiTOW — what 
 is it? somebody says, 'To-morrow ends thy earthly ills.' 
 Thank you — good night." 
 
 Janet went down and sent for a physician, and when
 
 314 PATJL FEEROXI. 
 
 she had told him all she knew of the illness, he said 
 such a degree of fever must produce delirium, and the 
 room ought not to be left without a watcher. She 
 shuddered, and he bade her be comforted, for the danger 
 need not therefore be imminent; but it was not the 
 danger she had thought of; it was the words which 
 might be uttered in deHrium. She took on herself the 
 office of watcher, and went to his door and listened; but 
 hearing nothing, she opened it, and perceived he was in 
 a troubled slumber — a heavy, stupified sleep; and the 
 thought came across her of that sleep which she had 
 beheld, holding her mother's hand, when she was ten 
 years old. The physician followed her, and sat down 
 by her side awaiting his awaking. Nothing could be 
 read on the doctor's face, though he looked long at her 
 father, and had made up his own mind as to the 
 result. 
 
 The hours went on, and the physician slumbered; 
 but Janet's senses were awake to the slightest sound, and 
 it was about midnight when she heard him faintly mm*- 
 muring as he turned on his restless pillow. Far, far 
 were his thoughts from the present scene; far from the 
 images which had held such undisputed dominion over 
 him. He talked of his parents whom Janet had scarce 
 ever heard him mention: he said, "Lift my head, mother;" 
 and when his ti-embling child raised him on his piUow, 
 smiled and said, "Dear mother." Then he forgot her, 
 and the most trifling concerns came across him, vexing 
 and perplexing him : he could not get dressed in time for 
 some engagement — he got to the engagement, and was 
 without the papers he was to bring there. 
 
 Janet called the physician; he came, felt the pulse, 
 renewed the scrutiny, and said, "Have you any friends?"
 
 PAUL I'EEKOLI. 315 
 
 "Only this one," said Janet, looking at her father. 
 
 "I meant any others," said the physician. "Mas! 
 he is dying." 
 
 "And ■will he never know me again?" said Janet, 
 kneehng do'sm, with her arm under his head, and her 
 other hand grasping his restless fingers. 
 
 "Yes, he may, just at last. But don't stay here, 
 dear young lady. You shall be called if he asks for 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, sh!" said Janet; and then her voice was 
 choked, and she bowed her head quite down to her 
 father's face. 
 
 "They are gone," said her father. "Why did she go 
 
 away not you, not you" — and then wandering 
 
 away from that thought, he said his horse had broken 
 its bridle, he could not force it out of the water. This 
 agitated delirium went on hour after horn-; the dawn of 
 the winter morning began, with its chill, more chilly 
 than all the night before — the room was become cold, 
 
 Suddenly, while Janet's eyes were fixed upon his, 
 she saw their unsettled motion cease, and reason looking 
 out at the last close, he again was aware that she was 
 near him. "Janet," he said, breathing once deeply, "it 
 is deatli — I remember — I perceive — I know every- 
 thing. All is clear as mid-day." Then looking round 
 and seeing the physician standing near, and Mrs. Fowler 
 who had crept in, he said in the lowest voice, "AVhat 
 have I been saying:" 
 
 He motioned her to stoop close; she did so, and 
 whispered m hardly the faintest tone, "Nothing, my 
 father." 
 
 "Right — then stay alone with me, these few 
 minutes."
 
 316 TAUL FEKKOLL. 
 
 "Go, sir, go," said Janet; "shut the door — we arc 
 father and child — leave us;" and he did so, di'awing 
 away Mrs. Fowler, and closing the door on the solemn 
 parting. 
 
 "Janet," said her father," "best child in the world, 
 
 farewell. My crime explains my conduct to you 
 
 Your mother was so deep in my heart, that she has torn 
 
 it in two You are alone. I have thought you 
 
 would perhaps return to Europe, and I looked for a 
 
 quiet, safe companion for you Some men, Janet, 
 
 will say I can be forgiven — some will say I cannot. I 
 
 have thought much There is a God, and He knows. 
 
 Farewell, dear and pretty Janet." 
 
 His lips tried to smile, but he had nearly lost power 
 over his muscles — only his eyes were fixed on her fond, 
 weeping face. They remained fixed — looked still, 
 when their meaning faded — then began to glaze, and 
 Janet approacloing her face closer and closer to his, per- 
 ceived the slower breathing come at intervals, till the 
 last made itself just felt over her lips, and he was gone. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 FEINTED BY BERNHAKD TAUCHNITZ. 
 
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