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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 William 6. Vasels
 
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 ST. IVES 
 
 in oEnglanti 
 
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 BY 
 
 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 1905
 
 Copyright, 1896, by 
 S. S. McCI.URE & CX). 
 
 Copyright, 1897, by 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
 
 EDITORIAL NOTE 
 
 The following tale was taken down from IVIr. Stevenson's dicta- 
 tion by his step-daughter and amanuensis, Mrs. Strong, at intervals 
 between January, 1893, and October, 1894 (see Vailima Letters, Vol. 11, 
 pp. 98-104, 179, 217, 230, 253). About sLs weeks before his death he 
 laid the story aside to take up Weir of Hermiston. The thirty chapters 
 of St. Ives which he had written (the last few of them apparently mi- 
 revised) brought the tale within sight of its conclusion, and the in- 
 tended course of the remainder was known in outline to Mrs. Strong. 
 For the benefit of those readers who do not like a story to be left 
 unfinished, the dehcate task of supplying the missing chapters has 
 been intrusted to Mr. Quiller-Gjuch, whose work begins at Chapter 
 XXXI. 
 
 [S. c]
 
 pl5 
 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. A Tale op a Lion Rampant, 1 
 
 n. A Tale of a Pair of Scissors, 16 
 
 in. jMajor Chevenlx Comes into the Story, axd 
 
 GoGUELAT Goes Out, 24 
 
 TV. St. Ives Gets a Bundle of Bank Notes, . . 36 
 
 V. St. Ives is Shown a House, 45 
 
 VI. The Esc.vpe, 54 
 
 VII. Swanston Cottage, 65 
 
 VIU. The Hen-House, , . . 73 
 
 IX. Three is Comp.\nt, and Four None, ... 81 
 
 X. The Drovers, 95 
 
 XI. The Great North Road, . . . . . . 107 
 
 XII. I Follow a Covered Cart Nearly to My 
 
 Destination, 119 
 
 XIII. I Meet Two of My Countrymen, .... 132 
 
 XIV. Travels of the Covered C.\rt, .... 142 
 XV. The Adventure of the Attorney's Clerk, . . 150 
 
 XVI. The Home-coming op Mr. Rowley's Viscount, . 168 
 
 XVII. The Despatch-box, 177
 
 yi CONTEXTS 
 
 "chapter p^^cj, 
 
 XVIII. Mr. Romaine Calls Me Names, . . . .187 
 
 XIX. The Devil and All at Amersh.\m Place, , . 198 
 
 XX. After tiie Storm, 210 
 
 XXI. I Become the Owner op a Claret-Coloured Chaise, 221 
 
 XXII. Character and Acquirements of Mr. Rowley, . 231 
 
 XXIII. The Adventure op the Runaway Couple, . 241 
 
 XXIV. The Inn-keeper of Kirkby-Lonsdale, . , 254 
 XXV. I Meet a Cheerful Extravagant, . . . 263 
 
 XX\T. The Cottage at Night, 271 
 
 XXVII. The Sabbath Day 282 
 
 XX VIII. Events op Monday: The Lawyer's Rvrty, . . 294 
 
 XXIX. Events of Tuesday: The Toils Closing, . . 310 
 
 XXX. Events of Wednesday: The UNrv'ERsiTY of 
 
 Crajiond, 324 
 
 XXXI. Events of Thursday: The Assembly Ball, . 337 
 
 XXXII. Events of Friday Morning: The Cutting of the 
 
 Gordian Knot, 355 
 
 XXXIII. "The Incomplete Aeronauts," .... 369 
 
 XXXIV. "Captain Colenso," 39O 
 
 XXXV. In Paris— Alain Plays His Last Card, . . 410 
 
 XXXVI. I Go to Claim Flora, 427
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Mahajvi, Youe Handkerchief," . . . Frontispiece 
 The Rogue That Fell to My Share was Exceedingly 
 
 Agh^e," . 102 
 
 'I Came on the Wreck op a Chaise," .... 240 
 "Still Gazing Before Heb," ,,,,,. 274
 
 ST. IVES 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A TALE OF A LION" EAMPANT 
 
 It was in the month of May 1813 that I was so nnlncky 
 as to fall at last into the hands of the enemy. My knowl- 
 edge of the English language had marked me out for a 
 certain employment. Though I cannot conceive a soldier 
 refusing to incur the risk, yet to be hanged for a spy is a 
 disgusting business ; and I was relieved to be held a pris- 
 oner of war. Into the Castle of Edinburgh, standing in 
 the midst of that city on the summit of an extraordinary 
 rock, I was cast with several hundred f ellow-suiferers, all 
 privates like myself, and the more part of them, by an acci- 
 dent, very ignorant, plain fellows. My English, which 
 had brought me into that scrape, now helped me very 
 materially to bear it. I had a thousand advantages. I 
 was often called to play the part of an interpreter, whether 
 of orders or complaints, and thus brought in relations, 
 sometimes of mirth, sometimes almost of friendship, with 
 the officers in charge. A young lieutenant singled me out 
 to be his adversary at chess, a game in which I was ex- 
 tremely proficient, and would reward me for my gambits 
 with excellent cigars. The major of the battalion took 
 lessons of French from me while at breakfast, and was 
 sometimes so obliging as to have me join him at the 
 
 1
 
 S ST. IVES 
 
 meal. Chevenix was his name. He was stiff as a drnm- 
 major and selfish as an Englishman, but a fairly conscien- 
 tious pupil and a fairly upright man. Little did I sup- 
 pose that his ramrod body and frozen face would, in the 
 end, step in between me and all my dearest wishes ; that 
 upon this precise, regular, icy soldier-man my fortunes 
 should so nearly shipwreck ! I never liked, but yet I 
 trusted him ; and though it may seem but a trifle, I found 
 his snuff-box with the bean in it come very welcome. 
 
 For it is strange how grown men and seasoned soldiers 
 can go back in life ; so that after but a little while in 
 prison, which is after all the next thing to being in the 
 nursery, they grow absorbed in the most pitiful, childish 
 interests, and a sngar biscuit or a pinch of snuff become 
 things to follow after and scheme for ! 
 
 We made but a poor show of prisoners. The officers had 
 been all offered their parole, and had taken it. They 
 lived mostly in suburbs of the city, lodging with modest 
 families, and enjoyed their freedom and supported the 
 almost continual evil tidings of the Emj^eror as best they 
 might. It chanced I was the only gentleman among the 
 privates who remained. A great part were ignorant Ital- 
 ians, of a regiment that had siiffered heavily in Catalonia. 
 The rest were mere diggers of the soil, treaders of grapes or 
 hewers of wood, who had been suddenly and violently 
 preferred to the glorious state of soldiers. We had but the 
 one interest in common : each of ns who had any skill 
 with his fingers passed the hours of his captivity in the 
 making of little toys and articles of Paris ; and the prison 
 was daily visited at certain hours by a concourse of people 
 of the country, come to exult over onr distress, or — it is 
 more tolerant to suppose — their own vicarious triumph. 
 Some moved among us with a decency of shame or sym- 
 pathy. Others were the most offensive personages in the
 
 A TALE OF A LION RAMPANT 3 
 
 world, gaped at us as if we had been baboons, sought to 
 evangelise us to their rustic, northern religion, as though 
 we had been savages, or tortured us with intelligence of 
 disasters to the arms of France. Good, bad and indiffer- 
 ent, there was one alleviation to the annoyance of these 
 visitors ; for it was the practice of almost all to purch;ise 
 some specimen of our rude handiwork. This led, amongst 
 the prisoners, to a strong spirit of competition. Some 
 were neat of hand, and (the genius of the French being 
 always distinguished) could place upon sale little miracles 
 of dexterity and taste. Some had a more engaging ap- 
 pearance ; fine features were found to do as well as fine 
 merchandise, and an air of youth in particular (as it ap- 
 pealed to the sentiment of pity in our visitors) to be a 
 source of profit. Others again enjoyed some acquaintance 
 with the language, and were able to recommend the more 
 agreeably to purchasers such trifles as they had to sell. To 
 the first of these advantages I could lay no claim, for my 
 fingers were all thumbs. Some at least of the others I 
 possessed ; and finding much entertainment in our com- 
 merce, I did not suffer my advantages to rust. I have 
 never despised the social arts, in which it is a national 
 boast that every Frenchman should excel. For the ap- 
 proach of particular sorts of visitors, I had a particular 
 manner of address and even of appearance, which I could 
 readily assume and change on the occasion rising. I never 
 lost an opportunity to flatter either the person of my vis- 
 itor, if it should be a lady, or, if it should be a man, the 
 greatness of his country in war. And in case my compli- 
 ments should miss their aim, I was always ready to cover 
 my retreat with some agreeable pleasantry, which would 
 often earn me the name of an '' oddity " or a " droll fel- 
 low." In this way, although I was so left-handed a toy- 
 maker, I made out to be rather a successful merchant ; and
 
 4 ST. IVES 
 
 found means to 2:)rocure many little delicacies and allevia* 
 tions, such as children or prisoners desire. 
 
 I am scarcely drawing the portrait of a very melancholy 
 man. It is not indeed my character ; and I had, in a 
 comparison with my comrades, many reasons for content. 
 In the first place, I had no family : I was an orphan and a 
 bachelor ; neither wife nor child awaited me in France. In 
 the second, I had never wholly forgot the emotions with 
 which I first found myself a prisoner ; and although a 
 military prison be not altogether a garden of delights, it is 
 still preferable to a gallows. In the third, I am almost 
 ashamed to say it, but I found a certain pleasure in our 
 place of residence : being an obsolete and really mediaeval 
 fortress, high placed and commanding extraordinary pros- 
 pects not only over sea, mountain and champaign, but act- 
 ually over the thoroughfares of a capital city, which we 
 could see blackened by day with the moving crowd of the 
 inhabitants, and at night shining with lamps. And lastly, 
 although I was not insensible to the restraints of prison or 
 the scantiness of our rations, I remembered I had some- 
 times eaten quite as ill in Spain, and had to mount guard 
 and march perhaps a dozen leagues into the bargain. The 
 first of my troubles, indeed, was the costume we were 
 obliged to wear. There is a horrible practice in England 
 to trick out in ridiculous uniforms, and as it were to brand 
 in mass, not only convicts but military prisoners and even 
 the children in charity schools. I think some malig- 
 nant genius had found his masterpiece of irony in the 
 dress which we were condemned to wear : jacket, waist- 
 coat and trousers of a sulphur or mustard yellow, and a 
 shirt of blue-and-white striped cotton. It was conspicuous, 
 it was cheap, it pointed us out to laughter — we, who were 
 old soldiers, used to arms, and some of us showing noble 
 scars — like a set of lugubrious zanies at a fair. The old
 
 A TALE OF A LION KAMPANT 5 
 
 name of that rock on which our prison stood was (I have 
 heard since then) the Fainted Hill. Well, now it was all 
 painted a bright yellow with our costumes ; and the dress 
 of the soldiers who guarded us being of course the essential 
 British red rag, we made up together the elements of a 
 lively picture of hell. I have again and again looked round 
 upon my fellow-prisoners, and felt my anger rise, and 
 choked upon tears, to behold them thus parodied. The 
 more part, as I have said, were peasants, somewhat bettered 
 perhaps by the drill-sergeant, but for all that ungainly, 
 loutish fellows, with no more than a mere barrack-room 
 smartness of address : indeed, you could have seen our 
 army nowhere more discreditably represented than in this 
 Castle of Edinburgh. And I used to see myself in fancy, 
 and blush. It seemed that my more elegant carriage would 
 but point the insult of the travesty. And I remembered 
 the days when I wore the coarse but honourable coat of a 
 soldier ; and remembered farther back how many of the 
 noble, the fair and the gracious had taken a delight to 
 tend my childhood. . . . But I must not recall these 
 tender and sorrowful memories twice ; their place is farther 
 on, and I am now upon another business. The perfidy of 
 the Britannic Government stood nowhere more openly con- 
 fessed than in one particular of our discipline : that we 
 were shaved twice in the week. To a man who has loved all 
 his life to be fresh shaven, can a more irritating indignity 
 be devised ? Monday and Thursday were the days. Take 
 the Thursday, and conceive the picture I must present by 
 Sunday evening ! And Saturday, which was almost as 
 bad, was the great day for visitors. 
 
 Those who came to our market were of all qualities, 
 men and women, the lean and the stout, the plain and the 
 fairly pretty. Sure, if people at all understood the power 
 of beauty, there would be no prayers addressed except to
 
 6 ST. IVES 
 
 Venus ; and the mere privilege of beholding a comely 
 woman is worth paying for. Our visitors, upon the whole, 
 were not much to boast of ; and yet, sitting in a corner 
 and very much ashamed of myself and my absurd appear- 
 ance, I have again and again tasted the finest, the rarest 
 and the most ethereal pleasures in a glance of an eye that 
 I should never see again — and never wanted to. The 
 flower of the hedgerow and the star in heaven satisfy 
 and delight us : how much more the look of that exquisite 
 being who was created to bear and rear, to madden and re- 
 joice, mankind ! 
 
 There was one young lady in particular, about eighteen 
 or nineteen, tall, of a gallant carriage, and with a profu- 
 sion of hair in which the sun found threads of gold. As 
 soon as she came in the courtyard (and she was a rather 
 frequent visitor) it seemed I was aware of it. She had an 
 air of angelic candour, yet of a high spirit ; she stepped 
 like a Diana, every movement was noble and free. One 
 day there was a strong east wind ; the banner was straining 
 at the flagstaff ; below us the smoke of the city chimneys 
 blew hither and thither in a thousand crazy variations ; and 
 away out on the Forth we could see the ships lying down 
 to it and scudding. I was thinking what a vile day it was, 
 when she appeared. Her hair blew in the wind with 
 changes of colour ; her garments moulded her with the 
 accuracy of sculpture ; the ends of her shawl fluttered 
 about her ear and were caught in again with an inimitable 
 deftness. You have seen a pool on a gusty day, how it 
 suddenly sparkles and flashes like a thing alive ? So this 
 lady's face had become animated and coloured ; and as I 
 saw her standing, somewhat inclined, her lips parted, a 
 divine trouble in her eyes, I could have clapjied my hands 
 in applause, and was ready to acclaim her a genuine 
 daughter of the winds. What put it in my head, I know
 
 A TALE OF A LION KAMPANT 7 
 
 not : perhaps because it was a Thursday and I was new 
 from the razor; but I determined to engage her atten- 
 tion no later than that day. She was approaching that 
 pait- of the court in which I sat with my merchandise, 
 whati I observed her handkerchief to escape from her 
 hands and fall to the ground ; the next moment, the 
 wind had taken it up and carried it within my reach. I. 
 was on foot at once : I had forgot my mustard-coloured 
 clothes, I had forgot the private soldier and his salute. 
 Bowing deeply, I offered her the slip of cambric. 
 
 "Madam," said I, "your handkerchief. The wind 
 brought it me." 
 
 I met her eyes fully. 
 
 "I thank you, sir," said she. 
 
 " The wind brought it me," I repeated. " May I not 
 take it for an omen ? You have an English proverb, *It's 
 an ill wind that blows nobody good.'" 
 
 " AVell," she said, with a smile, " ' One good turn de- 
 serves another.' I will see what you have." 
 
 She followed me to where my wares were spread out un- 
 der lee of a piece of cannon. 
 
 " Alas, mademoiselle ! " said I, " I am no very perfect 
 craftsman. This is supposed to be a house, and you see the 
 chimneys are awry. You may call this a box if you are 
 very indulgent ; but see where my tool slipped ! Yes, 
 I am afraid you may go from one to another, and find a 
 flaw in everything. Failures for Sale should be on my 
 signboard. I do not keep a shop ; I keep a Humorous 
 Museum." I cast a smiling glance about my display and 
 then at her, and instantly became grave. "Strange, is it 
 not," I added, " that a grown man and a soldier should be 
 engaged upon such trash, and a sad heart produce any- 
 thing so funny to look at ? " 
 
 An unpleasant voice summoned her at this moment bv
 
 8 ST. IVES 
 
 the name of Flora, and slie made a hasty purchase and re- 
 joined her party. 
 
 A few days after she came again. But I must first tell 
 yon how she z;ame to be so frequent. Her aunt was one of 
 those terrible British old maids, of which tlie world has 
 heard much ; and having nothing whatever to do and a 
 word or two of French, she had taken what she called an 
 interest in the French prisoners. A big, bustling, bold 
 old lady, she flounced about our market-place with insuf- 
 ferable airs of patronage and condescension. She bought, 
 indeed, with liberality, but her manner of studying us 
 through a quizzing glass, and playing cicerone to her fol- 
 lowers, acquitted us of any gratitude. She had a tail be- 
 hind her of heavy, obsequious old gentlemen, or dull, 
 giggling misses, to whom she appeared to be an oracle. 
 *' This one can really carve prettily : is he not a quiz with 
 his big whiskers?" she would say. ''And this one,'* 
 indicating myself with her gold eye-glass, " is, I assure you, 
 quite an oddity.'' The oddity, you may be certain, ground 
 his teeth. She had a way of standing in our midst, nod- 
 ding around, and addressing us in what she imagined to be 
 French: '' Bienne, hommes ! p« va Menne? " I took the 
 freedom to reply in the same lingo : " Bienne, femme I (a 
 va cotiei-couci tout cVmeme, la bourgeoise ! " And at that, 
 when we had all laughed with a little more heartiness than 
 was entirely civil, " 1 told you he was quite an oddity ! " 
 says she in triumph. Needless to say, these passages were 
 before I had remarked the niece. 
 
 The aunt came on the day in question with a following 
 rather more tlian usually large, which she manoeuvred 
 to and fro about the market and lectured to at rather more 
 than usual length, and with rather less than her accustomed 
 tact. I kept my eyes down, but they were ever fixed in 
 the same direction, quite in vain. The aunt came and
 
 A TALE OF A LION RAMPANT 9 
 
 went, and pulled us out, and showed us off, like caged 
 monkeys ; but the niece kept herself on the outskirts of 
 the crowd and on the opposite side of the courtyard, and 
 departed at last as she had come, without a sign. Closely 
 as I had watched her, I could not say her eyes had ever 
 rested on me for an instant ; and my heart was overwhelmed 
 with bitterness and blackness. I tore out her detested im- 
 age ; I felt I was done witli her for ever ; I laughed at my- 
 self savagely, because I had thought to please ; when I lay 
 down at night, sleep forsook me, and I lay, and rolled, and 
 gloated on her charms, and cursed her insensibility, for half 
 the night. How trivial I thought her ! and how trivial 
 her sex ! A man might be an angel or an Apollo, and a 
 mustard-coloured coat would wholly blind them to his 
 merits. I was a j^risoner, a slave, a contemned and despic- 
 able being, the butt of her sniggering countrymen. I 
 would take the lesson : no proud daughter of my foes 
 should have the chance to mock at me again ; none in the 
 future should have the chance to think I had looked at her 
 with admiration. Yon cannot imagine any one of a more 
 resolute and independent spirit, or whose bosom was more 
 wholly mailed with patriotic arrogance, than I. Before I 
 dropped asleep, I had remembered all the infamies of 
 Britain, and debited them in an overwhelming column to 
 Flora. 
 
 The next day, as I sat in my place, I became conscious 
 there was some one standing near ; and behold, it was her- 
 self ! I kept my seat, at first in the confusion of my mind, 
 later on from policy ; and she stood, and leaned a little over 
 me, as in pity. She was very still and timid ; her voice 
 was low. Did I suffer in my captivity ? she asked me. 
 Had I to complain of any hardship ? 
 
 " Mademoiselle, I have not learned to complain,^' said L 
 
 I am a soldier of Napoleon." 
 
 t*
 
 10 ST. IVES 
 
 She sighed. "^At least you must regret La France,'* 
 said she, and coloured a little as she pronounced the words, 
 which she did with a jjretty strangeness of accent. 
 
 " What am 1 to say ?" I replied. " If you were carried 
 from this country, for which you seem so wholly suited, 
 where the very rains and winds seem to become you like 
 ornaments, would you regret, do you think ? "VVe must 
 surely all regret ! the son to his mother, the man to his 
 country ; these are native feelings." 
 
 " You have a mother ? " she asked. 
 
 "In heaven, mademoiselle," I answered. "She, and 
 my father also, went by the same road to heaven as so many 
 others of the fair and brave : they followed their queen 
 upon the scaffold. So, you see, I am not so much to be 
 pitied in my prison," I continued : " there are none to 
 wait for me ; I am alone in the world. 'Tis a different 
 case, for instance, with yon poor fellow in the cloth cap. 
 His bed is next to mine, and in the night I hear him sob- 
 bing to himself. He has a tender character, full of tender 
 and pretty sentiments ; and in the dark at night, and some- 
 times by day when he can get me apart with him, he la- 
 ments a mother and a sweetheart. Do you know what 
 made him take me for a confidant ? " 
 
 She parted her lips with a look, but did not speak. The 
 look burned all through me with a sudden vital heat. 
 
 " Because I had once seen, in marching by, the belfry 
 of his village ! " I continued. " The circumstance is quaint 
 enough. It seems to bind up into one the whole bundle 
 of those human instincts that make life beautiful, and 
 people and places dear — and from which it would seem I 
 am cut off ! " 
 
 I rested my chin on my knee and looked before me on 
 the ground. I had been talking until then to hold her ; 
 but I was now not sorry she should go : an impression is a
 
 A TALE OF A LION RAMPANT 11 
 
 tiling so delicate to produce and so easy to overthrow I 
 Presently she seemed to make an effort. 
 
 " I will take this toy," she said, laid a five-and-sixpenny 
 piece in my hand, and was gone ere I could thank her. 
 
 I retired to a place apart near the ramparts and behind 
 a gun. The beauty, the expression of her eyes, the tear 
 that had trembled there, the compassion in her voice, and 
 a kind of wild elegance that consecrated the freedom of 
 her movements, all combined to enslave my imagination 
 and inflame my heart. What had she said ? Nothing to 
 signify ; but her eyes had met mine, and the fire they had 
 kindled burned inextinguishably in my veins. I loved her ; 
 and I did not fear to hope. Twice I had spoken with her j 
 and in both interviews I had been well inspired, I had en- 
 gaged her sympathies, I had found words that she must 
 remember, that would ring in her ears at night upon her 
 bed. What mattered if I were half shaved and my clothes 
 a caricature ? I was still a man, and I had drawn my im- 
 age on her memory. I was still a man, and, as I trembled 
 to realise, she was still a woman. Many waters cannot 
 quench love ; and love, which is the law of the world, was 
 on my side. I closed my eyes, and she sprang up on the 
 background of the darkness, more beautiful than in life. 
 *' Ah \" thought I, ''and you too, my dear, you too must 
 carry away with you a picture, that you are still to behold 
 again and still to embellish. In the darkness of night, in 
 the streets by day, still you are to have my voice and face, 
 whispering, making love for me, encroaching on your shy 
 heart. Shy as your heart is, it is lodged there — / am 
 lodged there ; let the hours do their office — let time con- 
 tinue to draw me ever in more lively, ever in more insidious 
 colours/^ And then I had a vision of myself, and burst out 
 laughing. 
 
 A likely thing, indeed, that a beggar-man, a private sol*
 
 12 ST. IVES 
 
 dier, a prisoner in a yellow travesty, was to awake the in- 
 terest of this fair girl ! I would not despair ; but I saw 
 the game must be played fine and close. It must be my 
 policy to hold myself before her, always in a pathetic or 
 pleasing attitude ; never to alarm or startle her ; to keep 
 my own secret locked in my bosom like a story of disgrace, 
 and let hers (if she could be induced to have one), grow at 
 its own rate ; to move just so fast, and not by a hair's- 
 breadth any faster, than the inclination of her heart. I 
 was the man, and yet I was passive, tied by the foot in 
 prison. I could not go to her ; I must cast a spell upon 
 her at each visit, so that she should return to me ; and this 
 was a matter of nice management. I had done it the last 
 time — it seemed impossible she should not come again after 
 our interview ; and for the next I had speedily ripened a 
 fresh plan. A prisoner, if he has one great disability for a 
 lover, has yet one considerable advantage : there is nothing 
 to distract him, and he can spend all his hours ripening 
 his love and preparing its manifestations. I had been then 
 some days upon a piece of carving, — no less than the em- 
 blem of Scotland, the Lion Rampant. This I proceeded 
 to finish with what skill I was possessed of ; and when at 
 last I could do no more to it (and, you may be sure, was 
 already regretting I had done so much), added on the base 
 the following dedication : — 
 
 A LA BELLE FLORA 
 
 LE PRISONNIER RECONNAISANT 
 
 A. D. St. Y. d. K. 
 
 I put my heart into the carving of these letters. What 
 was done with so much ardour, it seemed scarce possible 
 that any should behold Avith indifference ; and the initials 
 would at least suggest to her my noble birth. I thought
 
 A TALE OF A LION KAMPANT 13 
 
 it better to suggest : I felt that mystery was my stock-in- 
 trade ; the contrast between my rank and manners, be- 
 tween my speech and my clotliing, and the fact that she 
 could only think of me by a combination of letters, must 
 all tend to increase her interest and engage her heart. 
 
 This done, there was nothing left for me but to wait and 
 to hope. And there is nothing further from my character : 
 in love and in war, I am all for the forward movement ; 
 ar.d these days of waiting made my purgatory. It is a fact 
 that I loved her a great deal better at the end of them, for 
 love comes, like bread, from a perpetual rehandling. And 
 besides, I was fallen into a panic of fear. How, if she 
 came no more, how was I to continue to endure my empty 
 days ? how was I to fall back and find my interest in the 
 major's lessons, the lieutenant's chess, in a twoj)enny sale 
 in the market, or a halfpenny addition to the prison fare ? 
 
 Days went by, and weeks ; I had not the courage to cal- 
 culate, and to-day I have not the courage to remember ; 
 but at last she was there. At last I saw her approach me 
 in the company of a boy about her own age, and whom I 
 divined at once to be her brother. 
 
 I rose and bowed in silence. 
 
 "This is my brother, Mr. Ronald Gilchrist," said she. 
 " I have told him of your sufferings. He is so sorry for 
 you ! " 
 
 "It is more than I have the right to ask," I replied ; 
 "but among gentlefolk these generous sentiments are nat- 
 ural. If your brother and I were to meet in the field, we 
 should meet like tigers ; but when he sees me here dis- 
 armed and helpless, he forgets his animosity." (At which, 
 as I had ventured to expect, this beardless champion 
 coloured to the ears for pleasure.) " Ah, my dear young 
 lady," I continued, " there are many of your countrymen 
 languishing in my country even as I do here. I can but
 
 14 ST. IV KS 
 
 hope there is fonnd some French lady to convey to each of 
 them the priceless consolation of her sympathy. You have 
 given me alms ; and more than alms — hope ; and wliile 
 yon were absent I was not forgetful. Suffer me to be able 
 to tell myself that I have at least tried to make a return ; 
 and for the prisoner's sake deign to accept this trifle." 
 
 So saying, I offered her my lion, which she took, looked 
 at in some embarrassment, and then, catching sight of the 
 dedication, broke out with a cry. 
 
 " Why, how did you know my name ? " she exclaimed. 
 
 " When names are so appropriate, they should be easily 
 guessed," said I, bowing. *' But indeed there was no magic 
 in the matter. A lady called you by name on the day I 
 found your handkerchief, and I was quick to remark and 
 cherish it." 
 
 "It is very, very beautiful," said she, "and I shall be 
 always proud of the inscription. Come, Ronald, we must 
 be going." She bowed to me as a lady bows to her equal, 
 and passed on (I could have sworn) Avith a heightened 
 colour. 
 
 I was overjoyed : my innocent ruse had succeeded ; she 
 had taken my gift without a hint of payment, and she 
 would scarce sleep in peace till she had made it up to me. 
 Ko greenhorn in matters of the heart, I was besides aware 
 that I had now a resident ambassador at the court of my 
 lady. The lion might be ill chiselled ; it was mine. My 
 hands had made and held it ; my knife— or, to speak more 
 by the mark, my rusty nail — had traced those letters ; and 
 simple as the words were, they would keep repeating to her 
 that I was grateful and that I found her fair. The boy 
 had looked like a gawky, and blushed at a compliment ; I 
 could see besides that he regarded me with considerable 
 suspicion ; yet he made so manly a figure of a lad, that I 
 iould not withhold from him my sympathy. And as fot
 
 A TALE OF A LION EAMPANT 15 
 
 the impulse that had made her bring and introduce him, I 
 could not sufficiently admire it. It seemed to me finer 
 than wit, and more tender than a caress. It said (plain as 
 language), " I do not and I cannot know yon. Here is 
 my brother — you can know him ; this is the way to me— 
 follow it.'*
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSORS 
 
 I WAS still plunged in these thonghts when the bell was 
 rnng that discharged our visitors into the street. Our lit- 
 tle market was no sooner closed than we were summoned 
 to the distribution and received our rations, which we were 
 then allowed to eat according to fancy in any part of our 
 quarters. 
 
 I have said the conduct of some of our visitors was un- 
 bearably offensive ; it was possibly more so than they 
 dreamed — as the sight-seers at a menagerie may offend in 
 a thousand ways, and quite without meaning it, the noble 
 and unfortunate animals behind the bars ; and there is no 
 doubt but some of my compatriots were susceptible beyond 
 reason. Some of these old whiskerandos, originally peas- 
 ants, trained since boyhood in victorious armies, and accus- 
 tomed to move among subject and trembling populations, 
 could ill brook their change of circumstance. There was 
 one man of the name of Goguelat, a brute of the first 
 water, who had enjoyed no touch of civilisation beyond the 
 military discipline, and had risen by an extreme heroism 
 of bravery to a grade for which he was otherwise unfitted 
 — that of marechal des logis in the 22nd of the line. In 
 so far as a brute can be a good soldier, he was a good sol- 
 dier ; the cross was on his breast, and gallantly earned ; 
 but in all things outside his line of duty the man was no 
 other than a brawling, bruising, ignorant pillar of low pot- 
 
 16
 
 A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSORS 17 
 
 houses. As a gentleman by birth and a scholar by taste 
 and education, I was the type of all that he least under- 
 stood and most detested ; and the mere view of our visitors 
 would leave him daily in a transport of annoyance, which 
 he would make haste to wreak on the nearest victim, and 
 too often on myself. 
 
 It was so now. Our rations were scarce served out, and 
 I had just withdrawn into a corner of the yard, when I 
 perceived him drawing near. He wore an air of hateful 
 mirth ; a set of young fools, among whom he passed for a 
 wit, followed him with looks of expectation ; and I saw I 
 was about to be the object of some of his insufferable pleas- 
 antries. He took a place beside me, spread out his rations, 
 drank to me derisively from his measure of i)rison beer, and 
 began. What he said it would be impossible to print ; but 
 his admirers, who believed their wit to have surpassed him- 
 self, actually rolled among the gravel. For my part, I 
 thought at first I should have died. I had not dreamed 
 the wretch was so observant ; but hate sharpens the ears, 
 and he had counted our interviews and actually knew 
 Flora by her name. Gradually my coolness returned to 
 me, accompanied by a volume of living anger that surprised 
 myself. 
 
 " Are you nearly done ? "' I asked. " Because if you are, 
 I am about to say a word or two myself.^' 
 
 " Oh, fair play ! " said he. " Turn about ! The Mar- 
 quis of Carabas to the tribune." 
 
 " Very well," said I. "1 have to inform you that I am 
 a gentleman. You do not know what that means, hey ? 
 Well, I will tell you. It is a comical sort of animal ; 
 springs from another strange set of creatures they call an- 
 cestors ; and in common with toads and other vermin, has 
 a thing that he calls feelings. The lion is a gentleman ; 
 he will not touch carrion. I am a gentleman, and I can- 
 2
 
 18 ST. IVES 
 
 not bear to soil my fingers Avith such a lump of dirt. Sit 
 still, Philippe Goguelat ! sit still and do not say a word, or 
 I shall know you are a coward ; the eyes of our guards 
 are upon us. Here is your health ! " said I, and pledged 
 him in the prison beer. " You have chosen to speak in a 
 certain way of a young child," I continued, ''who might 
 be your daughter, and who was giving alms to me and some 
 others of us mendicants. If the Emperor'' — saluting — " if 
 my Emperor could hear you, he would pluck off the cross 
 from your gross body. I cannot do that ; I cannot take 
 away what his Majesty has given ; but one thing I promise 
 you — I promise you, Goguelat, you shall be dead to-night." 
 
 I had borne so much from him in the past, I believe he 
 thought there was no end to my forbearance, and he was at 
 first amazed. But I have the pleasure to think that some 
 of my expressions had pierced through his thick hide ; and 
 besides, the brute was truly a hero of valour, and loved 
 fighting for itself. Whatever the cause, at least, he had 
 soon pulled himself together, and took the thing (to do 
 him Justice) handsomely. 
 
 " And I promise you, by the devil's horns, that you shall 
 have the chance ! " said he, and pledged me again ; and 
 again I did him scrupulous honour. 
 
 The news of this defiance spread from prisoner to pris- 
 oner with the speed of wings ; every face was seen to be il- 
 luminated like those of the spectators at a horse-race ; and 
 indeed you must first have tasted the active life of a sol- 
 dier, and then mouldered for a while in the tedium of a jail, 
 in order to understand, perhaps even to excuse, the delight 
 of our companions. Goguelat and I slept in the same 
 squad, which greatly simplified the business ; and a com- 
 mittee of honour was accordingly formed of our shed-mates. 
 They chose for president a sergeant-major in the 4th 
 Dragoons, a greybeard of the army, an excellent military
 
 A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSORS 19* 
 
 subject, and a good man. He took the most serious view 
 of liis functions, visited us both, and reported our replies 
 to the committee. Mine was of a decent firmness. I told 
 him the young lady of whom Goguelat had spoken had on 
 several occasions given me alms. I reminded him that, if 
 we were now reduced to hold out our hands and sell pill- 
 boxes for charity, it was something very new for soldiers of 
 the Empire. We had all seen bandits standing at a corner 
 of a wood truckling for cojiper halfpence, and after their 
 benefactors were gone spitting out injuries and curses. 
 "But," said I, ''I trust that none of us will fall so low. 
 As a Frenchman and a soldier, I owe that young child grati- 
 tude, and am bound to protect her character, and to sup- 
 port that of the army. You are my elder and my superior r 
 tell me if I am not right." 
 
 He was a quiet-mannered old fellow, and patted me with 
 three fingers on the back. " C'est Men, mon enfant," says 
 he, and returned to his committee. 
 
 Goguelat was no more accommodating than myself. " I 
 do not like apologies nor those that make them," was his 
 only answer. And there remained nothing but to arrange 
 the details of the meeting. So far as regards place and 
 time, we had no choice ; we must settle the dispute at 
 night, in the dark, after a round had passed b}^ and in the 
 open middle of the shed under which we slept. The ques- 
 tion of arms was more obscure. "We had a good many 
 tools, indeed, which we employed in the manufacture of our 
 toys ; but they were none of them suited for a single com- 
 bat between civilised men, and, being nondescript, it was 
 found extremely hard to equalise the chances of the com- 
 batants. At length a pair of scissors was unscrewed ; and 
 a couple of tough wands being found in a corner of the 
 courtyard, one blade of the scissors was lashed solidly to each 
 with resined twine — the twine coming I know not whence.
 
 20 ST. IVES 
 
 bnt the resin from the green jiillars of the shed, which still 
 sweated from the axe. It was a strange thing to feel in 
 one's hand this weapon, wliich was no heavier than a rid- 
 ing-rod, and which it was difficult to suppose would prove 
 more dangerous. A general oath was administered and 
 taken, that no one should interfere in the duel nor (sup- 
 pose it to resiilt seriously) betray the name of the. survivor. 
 And with that, all being then ready, we composed ourselves 
 to await the moment. 
 
 The evening fell cloudy ; not a star was to be seen when 
 the first round of the night passed through our shed and 
 wound off along the ramparts ; and as we took our places, 
 we could still hear, over the murmurs of the surrounding 
 city, the sentries challenging its further passage. Leclos, 
 the sergeant-major, set us in our stations, engaged our 
 wands, and left us. To avoid blood-stained clothing, my 
 adversary and I had stripped to the shoes ; and the chill of 
 the night enveloped our bodies like a wet sheet. The man 
 was better at fencing than myself ; he was vastly taller than 
 I, being of a stature almost gigantic, and proportionately 
 strong. In the inky blackness of the shed, it was impos- 
 sible to see his eyes ; and from the suppleness of the wands. 
 I did not like to trust to a parade. I made up my mind 
 accordingly to profit, if I might, by my defect ; and as 
 soon as the signal should be given, to throw myself down 
 and lunge at the same moment. It was to play my life 
 upon one card : should I not mortally wound him, no de- 
 fence would be left me ; what was yet more appalling, I 
 thus ran the risk of bringing my own face against his 
 scissor with the double force of our assaults, and my face 
 and eyes are not that part of me that I would the most 
 readily expose. 
 
 " Allez ! " said the sergeant-major. 
 
 Both lunged in the same moment with an equal fury,
 
 A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSORS 21 
 
 and but for my manoeuvre both had certainly been spitted. 
 As it was, he did no more than strike my shoulder, while 
 my scissor plunged below the girdle into a mortal part ; 
 and that great bulk of a man, falling from his whole 
 height, knocked me immediately senseless. 
 
 When I came to myself, I was laid in my own sleeping- 
 place, and could make out in the darkness the outline of 
 perhaps a dozen heads crowded around me. I sat up. 
 " What is it ? " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Hush ! " said the sergeant-major. " Blessed be God, 
 all is well." I felt him clasp my hand, and there were 
 tears in his voice. " 'Tis but a scratch, my child ; here is 
 papa, who is taking good care of you. Your shoulder is 
 bound up ; we have dressed you in your clothes again, and 
 it will all be well." 
 
 At this I began to remember. " And Goguelat ? " I 
 gasped. 
 
 " He cannot bear to be moved ; he has his bellyful ; 'tis 
 a bad business," said the sergeant-major. 
 
 The idea of having killed a man with such an instru- 
 ment as half a pair of scissors seemed to turn my stomach. 
 I am sure I m.ight have killed a dozen with a firelock, a 
 sabre, a bayonet, or any accepted weapon, and been visited 
 by no such sickness of remorse. And to this feeling every 
 unusual circumstance of our rencounter, the darkness in 
 which we had fought, our nakedness, even the resin on 
 the twine, appeared to contribute. I ran to my fallen 
 adversary, kneeled by him, and could only sob his name. 
 
 He bade me compose myself. '' You have given me the 
 key of the fields, comrade," said he. " Saiis rancune ! " 
 
 At this my horror redoubled. Here had we two expa- 
 triated Frenchmen engaged in an ill-regulated combat like 
 the battles of beasts. Here was he, who had been all his 
 life 80 great a ruffian, dying in a foreign land of this igno-
 
 22 ST. IVES 
 
 ble injury, and meeting death with something of the spirit 
 of a Bayard. I insisted that the guards shoukl be sum- 
 moned and a doctor brought. '^ It may still be possible 
 to save him/' I cried. 
 
 The sergeant-major reminded me of our engagement. 
 *' If you had been wounded/' said he, " you must have 
 lain there till the patrol came by and found you. It hap- 
 pens to be Goguelat — and so must he ! Come, child, time 
 to go to by-by.'' And as I still resisted, " Champdivers V* 
 he said, "this is weakness. You pain me.'' 
 
 " Ay, off to your beds with you ! " said Goguelat, and 
 named us in a company with one of his jovial gross 
 epithets. 
 
 Accordingly the squad lay down in the dark and simu- 
 lated, what they certainly were far from experiencing, 
 sleep. It was not yet late. The city, from far below and 
 all around us, sent up a sound of wheels and feet and 
 lively voices. Yet awhile, and the curtain of the cloud 
 was rent across, and in the space of sky between the eaves 
 of the shed and the irregular outline of the ramparts a 
 multitude of stars appeared. Meantime, in the midst of 
 us lay Goguelat, and could not always withhold himself 
 from groaning. 
 
 We heard the round far off ; heard it draw slowly nearer. 
 Last of all, it turned the corner and moved into our field 
 of vision : two file of men and a corporal with a lantern, 
 which he swung to and fro, so as to cast its light in the 
 recesses of the yards and sheds. 
 
 " Hullo ! " cried the corporal, pausing as he came by 
 Goguelat. 
 
 He stooped with his lantern. All our hearts were fly- 
 ing. 
 
 " What devil's work is this ?" he cried, and with a star- 
 tling voice summoned the guard.
 
 A TALE OF A PAIE OF SCISSORS 23 
 
 "We were all afoot upon the instant ; more lanterns and 
 soldiers crowded in front of the shed ; an ofl&cer elbowed 
 his way in. In the midst was the big naked body, soiled 
 with blood. Some one had covered him with his blanket ; 
 but as he lay there in agony, he had partly thrown it off. 
 
 " This is mnrder ! " cried the officer. ** You wild 
 beasts, you will hear of this to-morrow.'* 
 
 As Goguelat was raised and laid upon a stretcher, he 
 cried to us a cheerful and blasphemous farewell.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MAJOR CHEVENIX COMES INTO THE STORY, AND GOGUB- 
 
 LAT GOES OUT 
 
 There was never any talk of a recovery, and no time 
 was lost in getting the man's deposition. He gave but the 
 one account of it : that he had committed suicide because 
 he was sick of seeing so many Englishmen. The doctor 
 vowed it was impossible, the nature and direction of the 
 wound forbidding it. Goguelat replied that he was more 
 ingenious than the other thought for, and had propped up 
 the weapon in the ground and fallen on the point — " just 
 like Nebuchadnezzar," he added, winking to the assistants. 
 The doctor, who Avas a little, spruce, ruddy man of an im- 
 patient temper, pished and pshawed and swore over his 
 patient. ^' Nothing to be made of him ! " he cried. " A 
 perfect heathen. If we could only find the weapon ! " 
 But the weapon had ceased to exist. A little resined twine 
 was perhaps blowing about in the castle gutters ; some bits 
 of broken stick may have trailed in corners ; and behold, 
 in the pleasant air of the morning, a dandy prisoner trim- 
 ming his nails with a pair of scissors I 
 
 Finding the wounded man so firm, you may be sure the 
 authorities did not leave the rest of us in peace. No stone 
 was left unturned. We were had in again and again to be 
 examined, now singly, now in twos and threes. We were 
 threatened with all sorts of impossible severities and 
 tempted with all manner of improbable rewards. I sup- 
 
 24
 
 MAJOR CHEVENIX COMES INTO THE STOEY 25 
 
 pose I was five times interrogated, and came off from each 
 with flying colours, I am like old Souvaroff, I cannot 
 understand a soldier being taken aback by any question ; 
 he should answer as he marches on the fire with an instant 
 briskness and gaiety. I may have been short of bread, 
 gold or grace ; I was never yet found wanting in an an- 
 swer. My comrades, if they were not all so ready, were 
 none of them less staunch ; and I may say here at once 
 that the inquiry came to nothing at the time, and tlie 
 death of Goguelat remained a mystery of the prison. 
 Such were the veterans of France ! And yet I should be 
 disingenuous if I did not own this was a case apart ; in 
 ordinary circumstances, some one might have stumbled or 
 been intimidated into an admission ; and what bound us 
 together with a closeness beyond that of mere comrades 
 was a secret to which we were all committed and a design 
 in which all were equally engaged. No need to inquire as 
 to its nature : there is only one desire, and only one kind 
 of design, that blooms in prisons. And the fact that our 
 tunnel was near done supported and inspired us. 
 
 I came off in public, as I have said, with flying colours ; 
 the sittings of the court of inquiry died away like a tune 
 that no one listens to ; and yet I was unmasked — I, whom 
 my very adversary defended, as good as confessed, as good 
 as told the nature of the quarrel, and by so doing prepared 
 for myself in the future a most anxious, disagreeable ad- 
 venture. It was the third morning after the duel, and 
 Goguelat was still in life, when the time came round for 
 me to give Major Chevenix a lesson. I was fond of this 
 occupation ; not that he paid me much — no more, indeed, 
 than eighteenpence a month, the customary figure, being a 
 miser in the grain ; but because I liked his breakfasts and 
 (to some extent) himself. At least, he was a man of edu- 
 cation ; and of the others with whom I had any opportunity
 
 26 ST. IVES 
 
 of speech, those that -would not have held a book upside- 
 down would have torn the pages out for j^ipelights. For I 
 must repeat again that our body of prisoners was excep- 
 tional : there was in Edinburgh Castle none of that educa- 
 tional busyness that distinguished some of the other prisons, 
 so that men entered them unable to read, and left them fit 
 for high employments. Chevenix was handsome, and sur- 
 prisingly young to be a major : six feet in his stockings, 
 well set up, with regular features and very clear grey eyes. 
 It was impossible to pick a fault in him, and yet the sum- 
 total was displeasing. Perhaps he was too clean ; he 
 seemed to bear about with him the smell of soap. Cleanli- 
 ness is good, but I cannot bear a man's nails to seem ja- 
 panned. And certainly he was too self-possessed and cold. 
 There was none of the fire of 5'-outh, none of the swiftness 
 of the soldier, in this young officer. His kindness was cold, 
 and cruel cold ; his deliberation exasperating. And per- 
 haps it was from this character, which is very much the 
 opposite of my own, that even in these days, when he was 
 of service to me, I approached him with suspicion and re- 
 serve. 
 
 I looked over his exercise in the usual form, and marked 
 six faults. 
 
 ''H'm. Six,'^ says he, looking at the paper. ''Very 
 annoying ! I can never get it right." 
 
 " Oh, but you make excellent jDrogress ! " I said. I would 
 not discourage him, you understand, but he was congeni- 
 tally unable to learn French. Some fire, I think, is need- 
 ful, and he had quenched his fire in soapsuds. 
 
 lie put the exercise down, leaned his chin upon his 
 hand, and looked at me with clear, severe eyes. 
 
 '* I think we must have a little talk," said he. 
 
 ** I am entirely at your disposition," I replied ; but I 
 quaked, for I knew what subject to expect.
 
 MAJOR CHEVENIX COMES INTO THE STORY 27 
 
 " Yon have been some time giving me these lessons," he 
 went on, " and I am tempted to think rather well of yon. 
 I believe yon are a gentleman/' 
 
 " I have that liononr, sir/' said I. 
 
 " Yon have seen me for the same period. I do not know 
 how I strike yon ; bnt perhaps yon will be prepared to be- 
 lieve that I also am a man of honour," said he, 
 
 "I require no assurances ; the thing is manifest," and I 
 bowed. 
 
 " Very well, then," said he. '' What about this Gogne- 
 lat?" 
 
 " Yon heard me yesterday before the court," I began. 
 *' I was awakened only — — " 
 
 " Oh yes ; I 'heard you yesterday before the court,' no 
 doubt," he interrupted, " and I remember perfectly that 
 you were 'awakened only.' I could repeat the most of it 
 by rote, indeed. But do yon suppose that I believed you 
 for a moment ? " 
 
 " Neither would yon believe me if I Avere to repeat it 
 here," said I, 
 
 " I may be wrong— we shall soon see," says he ; " bnt 
 my impression is that yon will not 'repeat it here.' My 
 impression is that you have come into this room, and that 
 you will tell me something before you go out." 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders. 
 
 " Let me explain," he continued. " Your evidence, of 
 course, is nonsense. I put it by, and the court put it by." 
 
 " My compliments and thanks ! " said I. 
 
 "Yon W2i5i^ know — that's the short and the long," he 
 proceeded. "All of yon in Shed B are bound to know. 
 And I want to ask yon where is the common sense of keep- 
 ing up this farce, and maintaining this cock-and-bull story 
 between friends. Come, come, my good fellow, own your- 
 self beaten, and laugh at it yourself."
 
 28 ST. IVES 
 
 " "Well, I hear you go ahead," said I. *' Yon put your 
 heart in it." 
 
 He crossed his legs slowly, " I can very well under- 
 stand," he began, " that precautions have had to be taken. 
 I daresay an oath was administered. I can comprehend 
 that perfectly." (He was watching me all the time with 
 his cold, bright eyes.) ''And I can comprehend that, 
 about an affair of honour, you would be very particular to 
 keep it." 
 
 *' About an affair of honour ?" I repeated, like a man 
 quite puzzled. 
 
 " It was not an affair of honour, then ?" he asked. 
 
 " What was not ? I do not follow," said I. 
 
 He gave no sign of imj)atience ; simply sat awhile silent, 
 and began again in the same placid and good-natured voice : 
 " The court and I were at one in setting aside your evi- 
 dence. It could not deceive a child. But there was a 
 difference between myself and the other officers, because 1 
 knetu my man and they did not. They saw in you a com- 
 mon soldier, and I knew you for a gentleman. To them 
 your evidence was a leash of lies, which they yawned to 
 hear you telling. Now, I was asking myself, how far will a 
 gentleman go ? Not surely so far as to help hush a murder 
 up ? So that — when I heard you tell how you knew noth- 
 ing of the matter, and were only awakened by the corporal, 
 and all the rest of it — I translated your statements into 
 something else. Now, Champdivers," he cried, springing 
 up lively and coming towards me with animation, " I am 
 going to tell you what that was, and you are going to help 
 me to see Justice done : how, I don't know, for of course you 
 are under oath — but somehow. Mark what I'm going to 
 say." 
 
 At that moment he laid a heavy, hard grip upon my 
 shoulder ; and whether he said anything more or came to
 
 MAJOR CHEVENIX COMES IKTO THE STORY 29 
 
 a full stop at once, I am sure I could not tell you to this 
 day. For, as the devil would have it, the shoulder he laid 
 hold of was the one Goguelat had pinked. The wound 
 was but a scratch ; it was healing with the first intention ; 
 but in the clutch of Major Chevenix it gave me agony. 
 My head swam ; the sweat poured off my face ; I must have 
 grown deadly pale. 
 
 He removed his hand as suddenly as he had laid it there. 
 
 " What is wrong with you ? " said he. 
 
 ** It is nothing/' said I. *' A qualm. It has gone by.'* 
 
 " Are you sure ? " said he. " You are as white as a 
 sheet." 
 
 " Oh no, I assure you ! Nothing whatever. I am my 
 own man again," I said, though I could scarce command 
 my tongue. 
 
 " Well, shall I go on again ? " says he. " Can you fol- 
 low me ? " 
 
 " Oh, by all means !" said I, and mopped my streaming 
 face upon my sleeve, for you may be sure in those days I 
 had no handkerchief. 
 
 " If you are sure you can follow me. That was a very 
 sudden and sharp seizure," he said, doubtfully. " But if 
 you are sure, all right, and here goes. An affair of honour 
 among you fellows would naturally be a little difficult to 
 carry out, perhaps it would be impossible to have it wholly 
 regular. And yet a duel might be very irregular in form, 
 and, under the peculiar circumstances of the case, loyal 
 enough in effect. Do you take me ? Now, as a gentleman 
 and a soldier." 
 
 His hand rose again at the words and hovered over me. 
 I could bear no more, and winced away from him. " No," 
 I cried, '^ not that. Do not put your hand upon my shoul- 
 der. I cannot bear it. It is rheumatism," I made haste 
 to add. " My shoulder is inflamed and very painful."
 
 80 ST. IVES 
 
 lie returned to his chair an'l deliberately lighted a 
 cigar. 
 
 " I am sorry about your shoulder/' he said at lust. 
 ** Let me send for the doctor." 
 
 **Xot in the least/' said I. "It is a trifle. I am 
 quite used to it. It does not trouble me in the smallest. 
 At any rate, I don't believe in doctors." 
 
 " All right/' said he, and sat and smoked a good while 
 in a silence which I would have given anything to break. 
 *' Well/' he began presently, **I believe there is nothing 
 left for me to learn. I presume I may say that I know 
 all." 
 
 " About what ? " said I boldly. 
 
 " About Goguelat," said he. 
 
 " I beg your pardon. I cannot conceive," said I. 
 
 *' Oh," says the major, " the man fell in a duel, and by 
 your hand ! I am not an infant." 
 
 " By no means," said I. *' But you seem to me to be a 
 good deal of a theorist." 
 
 " Shall w^e test it ? " he asked. " The doctor is close 
 by. If there is not an open wound on your shoulder, I am 
 
 wrong. If there is " He waved his hand. " But I 
 
 advise you to think twice. There is a deuce of a nasty 
 drawback to the experiment — that what might have re- 
 mained private between us two becomes public property." 
 
 '' Oh, well ! " said I, with a laugh, " anything rather than 
 a doctor ! I cannot bear the breed." 
 
 His last words had a good deal relieved me, but I was 
 still far from comfortable. 
 
 Major Chevenix smoked awhile, looking now at his cigar 
 ash, now at me. " I'm a soldier myself," he says presently, 
 *'and I've been out in my time and hit my man. I don't 
 want to run any one into a corner for an affair that was 
 at all necessary or correct. At the same time, I want to
 
 MAJOR CHEVENIX COMES INTO THE STORY 31 
 
 know that mncli, and Fll take your word of honour for it. 
 Otherwise, I shall be very sorry, but the doctor must be 
 called in.'"' 
 
 '' I neither admit anything nor deny anything," I re- 
 turned. *' But if this form of words will suffice you, here 
 is what I say : I give you my parole, as a gentleman and a 
 soldier, there has nothing taken place amongst us prisoners 
 that was not honourable as the day." 
 
 *'' All right," says he. " That was all I wanted. You caa 
 go now, Champdivers." 
 
 And as I was going out he added, with a laugh : " By- 
 the-bye, I ought to apologise : I had no idea I was applying 
 the torture ! " 
 
 The same afternoon the doctor came into the courtyard 
 with a piece of paper in his hand. He seemed hot and 
 angry, and had certainly no mind to be polite. 
 
 " Here \" he cried. "Which of you fellows knows any 
 English ? 01" — sj)ying me — "there you are, what's your 
 name ! J'ow'll do. Tell these fellows that the other fel- 
 low's dying. He's booked ; no use talking ; I expect he'll 
 go by evening. And tell them I don't envy the feelings of 
 the fellow who spiked him. Tell them that first." 
 
 I did so. 
 
 " Then yon can tell 'em/' he resumed, " that the fellow. 
 Goggle — what's his name ? — wants to see some of them be- 
 fore he gets his marching orders. If I got it right, he 
 wants to kiss or embrace you, or some sickening stuff. 
 Got that ? Then here's a list he's had written, and you'd 
 better read it out to them — I can't make head or tail of 
 your beastly names — and they can answer presetit, and fall 
 in against that wall." 
 
 It was with a singular movement of incongruous feelings 
 
 'that I read the first name on the list. I had no wish to 
 
 look again on my own handiwork ; my flesh recoil d from
 
 82 ST. IVES 
 
 the idea ; and how conld I be sure what reception he de- 
 signed to give me ? Tlie cure was in my own hand ; I 
 could pass that first name over — the doctor would not 
 know — and I might stay away. But to tlie subsequent 
 great gladness of my heart, I did not dwell for an instant 
 on the thought, walked over to the designated wall, faced 
 about, read out the name " Champdivers/' and answered 
 myself with the word " Present.^^ 
 
 There were some half-dozen on the list, all told ; and as 
 soon as we were mustered, the doctor led the way to the 
 hospital, and we followed after, like a fatigue party, in 
 single file. At the door he paused, told us "the fel- 
 low " would see each of us alone, and, as soon as I had ex- 
 plained that, sent me by myself into the ward. It was a 
 small room, whitewashed ; a south Avindow stood open on a 
 vast depth of air and a spacious and distant prospect ; and 
 from deep below, in the Grassmarket, the voices of hawk- 
 ers came up clear and far away. Hard by, on a little bed, 
 lay Goguelat. The sunburn had not yet faded from his 
 face, and the stamp of death was already there. There was 
 something wild and unmannish in his smile, that took me 
 by the throat ; only death and love know or have ever seen 
 it. And when he sjooke, it seemed to shame his coarse talk. 
 
 He held out his arms as if to embrace me. I drew near 
 with incredible shrinkings, and surrendered myself to his 
 arms with overwhelming disgust. But he only drew my 
 ear down to his lips. 
 
 " Trust me," he whispered. " Je siiis Ion hougre, mot. 
 I'll take it to hell with me, and tell the devil." 
 
 Why should I go on to reproduce his grossness and triv- 
 ialities ? All that lie thought, at tliat hour, was even no- 
 ble, though he could not clothe it otherwise than in the 
 language of a brutal farce. Presently he bade me call the 
 doctor ; and when that officer had come in, raised a little
 
 MAJOR CHEVENIX COMES INTO THE STORY 33 
 
 np in his bed, pointed first to himself and then to me, 
 who stood weeping by his side, and several times repeated 
 the expression, "Frinds — frinds — dam f rinds." 
 
 To my great surprise, the doctor appeared very much af- 
 fected. He nodded his little bob-wigged head at us, and 
 said repeatedly, " All right, Johnny — me comprong." 
 
 Then Goguelat shook hands with me, embraced me 
 again, and I went out of the room sobbing like an infant. 
 
 How often have I not seen it, that the most unpardona- 
 ble fellows make the hapjDiest exits ! It is a fate we may 
 well envy them. Goguelat was detested in life ; in the last 
 three days, by his admirable staunchness and consideration, 
 he won every heart ; and when word went about the prison 
 the same evening that he was no more, the voice of conver- 
 sation became hushed as in a house of mourning. 
 
 For myself I was like a man distracted ; I cannot think 
 what ailed me : when I awoke the following day, nothing 
 remained of it ; but that night I was filled with a gloomy 
 fury of the nerves. I had killed him ; he had done his 
 utmost to protect me ; I had seen him with that awful 
 smile. And so illogical and useless is this sentiment of 
 remorse, that I was ready, at a word or a look, to quarrel 
 with somebody else. I presume the disposition of my 
 mind was imprinted on my face ; and when, a little after, 
 I overtook, sainted and addressed the doctor, he looked 
 on me with commiseration and surprise. 
 
 I had asked him if it was true. 
 
 *' Yes," he said, " the fellow's gone." 
 
 " Did he suffer much ?" I asked. 
 
 " Devil a bit ; passed away like a lamb," said he. He 
 looked on me a little, and I saw his hand go to his fob. 
 **Here, take that ! no sense in fretting," he said, and, 
 putting a silver twopenny-bit in my hand, he left me. 
 
 I should have had that twopenny framed to hang upon 
 3
 
 34 ST. IVES 
 
 the wall, for it was the man's one act of charity in all my 
 knowledge of him. Instead of that, I stood looking at it 
 in my hand and laughed out bitterly, as I realised his mis- 
 take ; then went to the ramjparts, and flung it far into the 
 air like blood money. The night was falling ; through an 
 smbrasure and across the gardened valley I saw the lamj)- 
 lighters hasting along Princes Street with ladder and 
 lamp, and looked on moodily. As I was so standing a 
 hand was laid upon my shoulder, and I turned about. It 
 was Major Chevenix, dressed for the evening, and his 
 neckcloth really admirably folded. I never denied the 
 man could dress. 
 
 " Ah ! " said he, '^ I thought it was you, Champdivers. 
 So he's gone ? " 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 " Come, come,'' said he, " you must cheer up. Of 
 course it's very distressing, very painful and all that. But 
 do you know, it ain't such a bad thing either for you or 
 me ? What with his death and your visit to him I am 
 entirely reassured." 
 
 So I was to owe my life to Goguelat at every point. 
 
 " I had rather not discuss it," said I. 
 
 *'Well," said he, *' one word more, and I'll agree to 
 bury the subject. What did you fight about ?" 
 
 " Oh, what do men ever fight about ?" I cried. 
 
 '' A lady ? " said he. 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders. 
 
 " Deuce you did ! " said he. " I should scarce have 
 thought it of him." 
 
 And at this my ill-humour broke fairly out in words. 
 ** He I" I cried. ''He never dared to address her — only 
 to look at her and vomit his vile insults ! She may have 
 given him sixpence : if she did, it may take him to heaven 
 yet!"
 
 MAJOii CUEVENIX COMES INTO THE STORY '6d 
 
 At this I became aware of his eyes set upon me with c 
 considering look, and brought up sharply. 
 
 " Well, well," said he. " Good night to you. Champ- 
 divers. Come to me at breakfast-time to-morrow, and 
 we'll talk of other subjects." 
 
 I fully admit the man's conduct was not bad : in writing 
 it down so long after the events I can even see that it was 
 good.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ST. IVES GETS A BUNDLE OF BAN"K NOTES 
 
 I WAS surprised one morning, shortly after, to find my- 
 Belf the object of marked consideration by a civilian and 
 a stranger. This was a man of the middle age ; he had a 
 face of a mulberry colour, round black eyes, comical tufted 
 eyebrows, and a protuberant forehead ; and was dressed in 
 clothes of a Quakerish cut. In spite of his plainness, he 
 had that inscrutable air of a man well-to-do in his affairs. 
 I conceived he had been some while observing me from a 
 distance, for a sparrow sat betwixt us quite unalarmed on 
 the breech of a piece of cannon. So soon as our eyes met, 
 he drew near and addressed me in the French language, 
 which he spoke with a good fluency but an abominable 
 accent. 
 
 " I have the pleasure of addressing Monsieur le Vicomte 
 Anne de Keroual de Saint-Yves ?" said he. 
 
 '' Well," said I, " I do not call myself all that ; but I 
 have a right to, if I chose. In the meanwhile I call myself 
 plain Champdivers, at your disposal. It was my mother's 
 name, and good to go soldiering with." 
 
 *' I think not quite," said he; ''for if I remember 
 rightly, your mother also had the particle. Her name was 
 Florimonde de Champdivers." 
 
 '*' Right again !" said I, " and I am extremely pleased to 
 meet a gentleman so well informed in my quarterings. Is 
 monsieur Born himself ? " This I said with a great air of 
 
 36
 
 ST. IVES GETS A BUNDLE OF BANK NOTES 37 
 
 assumption, partly to conceal tlie degree of cariosity with 
 which my visitor had inspired me, and in part because it 
 struck me as highly incongruous and comical in my prison 
 garb and on the lijjs of a private soldier. 
 
 He seemed to think so too, for he laughed. 
 
 " Xo, sir,'' he returned, speaking this time in English ; 
 " I am not ' horn,' as you call it, and must content myself 
 with dying, of which I am equally susceptible with the 
 best of you. My name is Mr. Romaine — Daniel Eomaine 
 — a solicitor of London City, at your service ; and, what 
 will perhaps interest you more, I am here at the request of 
 your great-uncle, the Count.'' 
 
 " What ] " I cried, " does M. de Keroual de Saint- Yves 
 remember the existence of such a person as myself, and will 
 he deign to count kinship with a soldier of K"apoleon ? " 
 
 " You speak English well," observed my visitor. 
 
 *' It has been a second language to me from a child,'* 
 said I. "1 had an English nurse ; my father spoke Eng- 
 lish with me ; and I was finished by a countryman of yours 
 and a dear friend of mine, a Mr. Yicary." 
 
 A strong expression of interest came into the lawyer's 
 face. 
 
 " What ! " he cried, *' you knew poor Yicary ?" 
 
 " For more than a year," said I ; '' and shared his hid- 
 ing-place for many months." 
 
 " And I was his clerk, and have succeeded him in busi- 
 ness," said he. " Excellent man I It was on the affairs 
 of M. de Keroual that he went to that accursed country, 
 from which he was never destined -co return. Do you 
 chance to know his end, sir ? " 
 
 " I am sorry," said I, " I do. He perished miserably at 
 the hands of a gang of banditti, such as we call cJiuiiffeiirs. 
 In a word, he was tortured, and died of it. See," I added, 
 kicking off one shoe, for I had no stocking ; " I was no
 
 38 ST. IVES 
 
 more than a child, and see how they had begun to treat 
 myself/' 
 
 He looked at the mark of my old burn with a certain 
 shrinking. "Beastly people!"! heard him mutter to 
 himself. 
 
 '' The English may say so with a good grace/'' I observed 
 politely. 
 
 Such speeches were the coin in which I paid my way 
 among this credulous race. Ninety per cent, of our vis- 
 itors would have accepted the remark as natural in itself 
 and creditable to my powers of judgment, but it appeared 
 my lawyer was more acute. 
 
 " You are not entirely a fool, I perceive/' said he. 
 
 " No," said I ; " not wholly." 
 
 " And yet it is well to beware of the ironical mood," he 
 continued. " It is a dangerous instrument. Your great- 
 uncle has, I believe, practised it very much, until it is now 
 become a problem what he means." 
 
 ''And that brings me back to what you will admit is a 
 most natural inquiry," said I. ''To what do I owe the 
 pleasure of this visit ? how did yon recognise me ? and how 
 did you know I was here ? " 
 
 Carefully separating his coat skirts, the lawyer took a 
 seat beside me on the edge of the flags. 
 
 "It is rather an odd story," says he, "and, with your 
 leave, I'll answer the second question first. It was from a 
 certain resemblance you bear to your cousin, M. le Vi- 
 comte." 
 
 "I trust, sir, that I resemble him advantageously?" 
 said I. 
 
 " I hasten to reassure you," was the reply : " you do. 
 To my eyes, M. Alain de St. -Yves has scarce a pleasing ex- 
 terior. And yet, when I knew you were here, and was 
 actually looking for you — why, the likeness helped. As
 
 ST. IVES GETS A BUNDLE OF BANK NOTES 39 
 
 for how I came to know your whereabouts, by an odd 
 enough chance, it is again M. Alain we have to thank. I 
 should tell you, he has for some time made it his business 
 to keep M. de Keroual informed of your career ; with what 
 purpose I leave you to judge. When he first brought the 
 news of your — that you were serving Buonaparte, it seemed 
 it might be the death of the old gentleman, so hot was'his 
 resentment. But from one thing to another, matters have 
 a little changed. Or I should rather say, not a little. We 
 learned you were under orders for the Peninsula, to fight 
 the English ; then that you had been commissioned for a, 
 piece of bravery, and were again reduced to the ranks. 
 And from one thing to another (as I :?.y), M. de KSroual 
 became used to the idea that you were his kinsman and yet 
 served with Buonaparte, and filled instead with wonder 
 that he should have another kinsman who was so remark- 
 ably well informed of events in France. And it now be- 
 came a very disagreeable question, whether the young gen- 
 tleman was not a spy ? In short, sir, in seeking to disserve 
 you, he had accumulated against himself a load of sus- 
 picions. 
 
 My visitor now paused, took snuff, and looked at me 
 with an air of benevolence. 
 
 " Good God, sir ! " says I, " this is. a curious story.'* 
 " You will say so before I have done," said he. " For 
 there have two events followed. The first of these was an 
 encounter of M. de Keroual and M. de Mauseant." 
 
 " I know the man to my cost," said I : "it was through 
 him I lost my commission." 
 
 " Do you tell me so ? " he cried. '' Why, here is news !'* 
 *' 0, I cannot complain ! " said I. "I was in the 
 wrong. I did it with my eyes open. If a man gets a pris- 
 oner to guard and lets him go, the least he can expect is to 
 be degraded."
 
 40 ST. IVES 
 
 ''You will be paid for it/' said he. ''You did well for 
 yourself and better for your king." 
 
 " If I had thought I was injuring my emperor," said I, 
 " I would have let M. de Mauseant burn in hell ere I had 
 helped him, and be sure of that ! I saw in him only a pri- 
 vate person in a difiicnlty : I let him go in private charity ; 
 not even to profit myself will I suffer it to be misunder- 
 stood." 
 
 " Well, well," said the lawyer, " no matter now. This 
 is a foolish warmth — a very misplaced enthusiasm, believe 
 me ! The point of the story is that M. de Mauseant spoke 
 of you with gratitude, and drew your character in such a 
 manner as greatly to affect your uncle's views. Hard upon 
 the back of which, in came your humble servant, and laid 
 before him the direct proof of what we had been so long 
 suspecting. There was no dubiety permitted. M. Alain's 
 expensive way of life, his clothes and mistresses, his dicing 
 and racehorses, were all explained : he was in the pay of 
 Buonaparte, a hired spy, and a man that held the strings 
 of what I can only call a convolution of extremely fishy 
 enterprises. To do M. de Keroual justice, he took it in 
 the best way imaginable, destroyed the evidences of the 
 one great-nephew's disgrace — and transferred his interest 
 wholly to the other." 
 
 " What am I to understand by that ? " said I. 
 
 "I will tell you," says he. " There is a remarkable in- 
 consistency in human nature which gentlemen of my clo'-h 
 have a great deal of occasion to observe. Selfish persons 
 can live without chick or child, they can live without all 
 mankind except perhaps the barber and the apothecary ; 
 but when it comes to dying, they seem physically unable 
 to die without an heir. You can apply this principle for 
 yourself. Viscount Alain, though he scarce guesses it, is 
 no longer in the field. Remains, Viscount Anne."
 
 ST. IVES GETS A BUNDLE OF BANK NOTES 41 
 
 *' I see," said I, '' yon give a very unfavoarable impres- 
 sion of my nncle, the Count." 
 
 *' I had not meant it," said he. " He has led a loose 
 life — sadly loose — but he is a man it is imj^ossible to know 
 and not to admire ; his courtesy is exquisite." 
 
 *' And so you think there is actually a chance for me ?" 
 I asked. 
 
 " Understand," said he : " in saying as much as I have 
 done, I travel quite beyond my brief. I have been clothed 
 with no capacity to talk of wills, or heritages, or your 
 cousin. I was sent here to make but the one communica- 
 tion : that M. de Keroual desires to meet his great- 
 nephew." 
 
 *' Well," said I, looking about me on the battlements by 
 which we sat surrounded, *' this is a case in which Mahomet 
 must certainly come to the mountain." 
 
 '* Pardon me," said Mr. Romaine, *'you know already 
 your uncle is an aged man ; but I have not yet told you 
 that he is quite broken up, and his death shortly looked 
 for. No, no, there is no doubt about it — it is the moun- 
 tain that must come to Mahomet." 
 
 " From an Englishman, the remark is certainly signifi- 
 cant," said I ; '* but you are of course, and by trade, a 
 keeper of men's secrets, and I see you keep that of Cousin 
 Alain, which is not the mark of a truculent patriotism, to 
 sav the least." 
 
 *' I am first of all the lawyer of your family ! " says he. 
 
 *' That being so," said I, **I can perhaps stretch a point 
 myself. This rock is very high, and it is very steep ; a 
 man might come by a devil of a fall from almost any part 
 of it, and yet I believe I have a pair of wings that might 
 carry me just so far as to the bottom. Once at the bottom 
 I am helpless." 
 
 ** And perhaps it is just then that I could step in," re-
 
 42 ST. IVES 
 
 turned the lawyer. '' Suppose by some contingency, at 
 which I make no guess, and on which I offer no opin- 
 ion 
 
 But here I interrupted him. " One word ere you go 
 further. I am under no parole," said I. 
 
 " I understood so much," he replied, " although some 
 of you French gentry find their word sit lightly on them." 
 
 ** Sir, I am not one of those," said I. 
 
 " To do you plain justice, I do not think you one," said 
 he. " Suppose yourself, then, set free and at the bottom 
 of the rock," he continued, " although I may not be able 
 to do much, I believe I can do something to liel^o you on 
 your road. In the first place I would carry this, whether 
 in an inside pocket or my shoe." And he passed me a 
 bundle of bank notes. 
 
 " No harm in that," said I, at once concealing them. 
 
 " In the second place," he resumed, " it is a great way 
 from here to where your uncle lives — Amersham Place, 
 not far from Dunstable ; you have a great part of Britain 
 to get through ; and for the first stages, I must leave you 
 to your own luck and ingenuity. I have no acquaintance 
 here in Scotland, or at least" (with a grimace) ''no dis- 
 honest ones. But farther to the south, about Wakefield, 
 I am told there is a gentleman called Burchell Fenn, who 
 is not so particular as some others, and might be willing 
 to give you a cast forward. In fact, sir, I believe it's the 
 man's trade : apiece of knowledge that burns my mouth. 
 But that is what you get by meddling with rogues ; and 
 perhaps the biggest rogue now extant, M. de Saint-Yves, 
 is your cousin, M. Alain." 
 
 " If this be a man of my cousin's," I observed, '' I am 
 perhaps better to keep clear of him ? " 
 
 " It was through some papers of your cousin's that we 
 came across his trail," replied the lawyer. " But I am in-
 
 ST. IVES GETS A BUNDLE OF BANK NOTES 43 
 
 clined to think, so far as anything is safe in such a nasty 
 business, you may apply to the man Fenn. You might 
 even, I think, use the Viscount's name ; and the little 
 trick of family resemblance might come in. How, for in- 
 stance, if you were to call yourself his brother ? " 
 
 " It might be done," said I. " But look here a moment ! 
 You propose to me a very difficult game : I have appar- 
 ently a devil of an opponent in my cousin ; and being a 
 prisoner of war, I can scarce be said to hold good cards. 
 For what stakes, then, am I playing ? " 
 
 "They are very large," said he. '' Your great-uncle is 
 immensely rich — immensely rich. He was wise in time ; 
 he smelt the revolution long before ; sold all that he could, 
 and had all that was movable transported to England 
 through my firm. There are considerable estates in Eng- 
 land ; Amersham Place itself is very fine ; and he has 
 much money, wisely invested. He lives, indeed, like a 
 prince. And of what use is it to him ? He has lost all 
 that was worth living for — his family, his country ; he has 
 seen his king and queen murdered ; he has seen all these 
 miseries and infamies," pursued the lawyer, with a rising 
 inflection and a heightening colour ; and then broke sud- 
 denly off, — " In short, sir, he has seen all the advantages 
 of that government for which his nephew carries arms, 
 and he has the misfortune not to like them." 
 
 " You speak with a bitterness that I suppose I must ex- 
 cuse," said I ; " yet which of us has the more reason to be 
 bitter ? This man, my uncle, M. de Keroual, fled. My 
 parents, who were less wise perhaps, remained. In the 
 beginning, they were even republicans ; to the end, they 
 could not be persuaded to despair of the people. It was a 
 glorious folly, for which, as a son, I reverence them. First 
 one and then the other perished. If I have any mark of 
 a gentleman, all who taught me died upon the scaffold.
 
 44 ST. IVES 
 
 and my last school of manners was the prison of the Ab. 
 baye. Do you think you can teach bitterness to a man 
 with a history like mine ? " 
 
 " I have no wish to try/' said he. " And yet there is 
 one point I cannot understand : I cannot understand that 
 one of your blood and experience should serve the Corsican. 
 I cannot understand it : it seems as though everything gen- 
 erous in you must rise against that — domination." 
 
 " And perhaps/' I retorted, " had your childhood j^assed 
 among wolves, you would have been overjoyed yourself to 
 see the Corsican Shepherd." 
 
 "Well, well/' replied Mr. Eomaine, "it may be. There 
 are things that do not bear discussion." 
 
 And with a wave of his hand he disappeared abruptly 
 down a flight of steps and under the shadow of a ponder- 
 ous arch.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ST. IVES IS SHOWK A HOUSE 
 
 The lawyer was scarce gone before I remembered many 
 omissions ; and chief among these, that I had neglected to 
 get Mr. Burchell Fenn's address. Here was an essential 
 point neglected ; and I ran to the head of the stairs to find 
 myself already too late. The lawyer was beyond my view ; 
 in the archway that led downward to the castle gate, only 
 the red coat and the bright arms of a sentry glittered in the 
 shadow ; and I could but return to my place upon the ram- 
 parts. 
 
 I am not very sure that I was properly entitled to this 
 corner. But I was a high favourite ; not an officer, and 
 scarce a private, in the castle would have turned me back, 
 except upon a thing of moment ; and Avhenever I desired 
 to be solitary, I was suffered to sit here behind my piece of 
 cannon unmolested. The cliff went down before me almost 
 sheer, but mantled with a thicket of climbing trees ; from 
 farther down, an outwork raised its turret ; and across the 
 valley I had a view of that long terrace of Princes Street 
 which serves as a promenade to the fashionable inhabitants 
 of Edinburgh. A singularity in a military prison, that it 
 should command a view on the chief thoroughfare ! 
 
 It is not necessary that I should trouble you with the 
 rain of my reflections, which turned upon the interview 
 » had just concluded and the hopes that were now opening 
 vefore me. What is more essential, my eye (even while I 
 
 45
 
 46 ST. IVES 
 
 thought) kept following the movement of the passengers 
 on Princes Street, as they passed briskly to and fro — met, 
 greeted, and bowed to each other — or entered and left the 
 shops, which are in that quarter, and, for a town of the 
 Britannic provinces, particularly fine. My mind being 
 busy upon other things, the course of ray eye was the more 
 random ; and it chanced that I followed, for some time, the 
 ' advance of a young gentleman with a red head and a white 
 great-coat, for whom I cared nothing at the moment, and of 
 whom it is probable I shall be gathered to my fathers with- 
 out learning more. He seemed to have a large acquaint- 
 ance : his hat was for ever in his hand ; and I daresay I had 
 already observed him exchanging compliments with half a 
 dozen, when he drew up at last before a young man and 
 a youBg lady whose tall persons and gallant carriage I 
 thought I recognised. 
 
 It Avas impossible at such a distance that I could be sure, 
 but the thought was sufficient, and I craned out of the em- 
 brasure to follow them as long as possible. To think that 
 such emotions, that such a concussion of the blood, may 
 iave been inspired by a chance resemblance, and that I may 
 ^ave stood and thrilled there for a total stranger ! This 
 distant view, at least, whether of Flora or of some one else, 
 -changed in a moment the course of my reflections. It was 
 ^11 very well, and it was highly needful, I should see my 
 .uncle ; but an unoJe, a great-uncle at that, and one whom 
 I had never seen, leaves the imagination cold ; and if I 
 were to leave the castle, I might never again have the op- 
 portunity of finding Flora. The little impression I had 
 made, even supposing I had made any, how soon it would 
 die out ! how soon I should sink to be a phantom memory, 
 with which (in after days) she might amuse a husband and 
 children ! No, the impression must be clenched, the wax 
 impressed with the seal, ere I left Edinburgh. And at this
 
 ST. IVES IS SHOWN A HOUSE 47 
 
 the two interests that were now contending in my bosom 
 came together and became one. I wished to see Flora 
 again ; and I wanted some one to further me in my flight 
 and to get me new clothes. The conclusion was apparent. 
 Except for persons in the garrison itself, with whom it was 
 a point of honour and military duty to retain me captive, I 
 knew, in the whole country of Scotland, these two alone. 
 If it were to be done at all, they mnst be my helpers. To 
 tell them of my designed escape while I was still in bonds, 
 would be to lay before them a most difficult choice. What 
 they might do in such a case, I could not in the least be 
 sure of, for (the same case arising) I was far from sure what 
 I should do myself. It was plain I must escape first. 
 When the harm was done, when I was no more than a poor 
 wayside fugitive, I might apply to them with less offence 
 and more security. To this end it became necessary that 
 I should find out where they lived and how to reach it ; and 
 feeling a strong confidence that they would soon return to 
 visit me, I prepared a series of baits with which to angle 
 for my information. It will be seen the first was good 
 enough. 
 
 Perhaps two days after. Master Eonald put in an ap- 
 pearance by himself. I had no hold upon the boy, and 
 pretermitted my design till I should have laid court to him 
 and engaged his interest. He was prodigiously embar- 
 rassed, not having previously addressed me otherwise than 
 by a bow and blushes ; and he advanced to me with an air 
 of one stubbornly performing a duty, like a raw soldier 
 under fire. I laid down my carving ; greeted him with a 
 good deal of formality, such as I thought he would enjoy ; 
 and finding him to remain silent, branched off into narra- 
 tives of my campaigns such as Goguelat himself might 
 have scrupled to endorse. He visibly thawed and 
 brightened ; drew more near to where I sat ; forgot his
 
 48 ST. IVES 
 
 timidity so far as to put many questions ; and at last, with 
 another blush, informed me he was himself expecting a 
 commission. 
 
 " Well,^' said I, '' they are fine troops, your British 
 troops in the Peninsula. A young gentleman of spirit 
 may well be proud to be engaged at the head of such 
 soldiers." 
 
 "1 know that," he said ; " I think of nothing else. I 
 think shame to be dangling here at home and going 
 through with this foolery of education, while others, no 
 older than myself, are in the field." 
 
 " I cannot blame you," said I. **I have felt the same 
 myself." 
 
 " There are — there are no troops, are there, quite so 
 good as ours ? " he asked. 
 
 " Well," said I, " there is a point about them : they 
 have a defect, — they are not to be trusted in a retreat. I 
 have seen them behave very ill in a retreat." 
 
 "1 believe that is our national character," he said — God 
 forgive him ! — with an air of pride. 
 
 **I have seen your national character running away at 
 least, and had the honour to run after it ! " rose to my lips, 
 but I was not so ill advised as to give it utterance. Every 
 one should be flattered, but boys and women without stint ; 
 and I put in the rest of the afternoon narrating to him tales 
 of British heroism, for which I should not like to engage 
 that they were all true. 
 
 ''lam quite surprised," he said at last. "People tell 
 you the French are insincere. Now, I think your sin- 
 cerity is beautiful. I think you have a noble character. 
 I admire you very much. I am very grateful for your 
 kindness to — to one so young," and he offered me his 
 hand. 
 
 " I shall see you again soon ? " said I.
 
 ST. IVES IS SHOWN A HOUSE 49 
 
 ''0, now! Yes, very soon/' said he. ''I— I wish to 
 tell yon. I would not let Flora — Miss GilcliTist, I mean — 
 come to-day. I wished to see more of you myself. I trust 
 you are not offended : you know, one should be careful 
 about strangers." 
 
 I approved his caution, and he took himself away : leav- 
 ing me in a mixture of contrarious feelings, part ashamed 
 to have played on one so gullible, part raging that I should 
 have burned so much incense before the vanity of Eng- 
 land ; yet, in the bottom of my soul, delighted to think 
 I had made a friend — or, at least, begun to make a friend 
 — of Flora's brother. 
 
 As I had half expected, both made their appearance the 
 next day. I struck so fine a shade betwixt the pride that 
 is allowed to soldiers and the sorrowful humility that befits 
 a captive, that I declare, as I went to meet them, I might 
 have afforded a subject for a painter. So much was high 
 comedy, I must confess ; but so soon as my eyes lighted 
 full on her dark face and eloquent eyes, the blood leaped 
 into my cheeks — and that was nature ! I thanked them, 
 but not the least with exultation ; it was my cue to be 
 mournful, and to take the pair of them as one. 
 
 " I have been thinking," I said, " you have been so good 
 to me, both of you, stranger and prisoner as I am, that I 
 have been thinking how I could testify to my gratitude. 
 It may seem a strange subject for a confidence, but there is 
 actually no one here, even of my comrades, that knows me 
 by my name and title. By these I am called plain Champ- 
 divers, a name to which I have a right, but not the name 
 which I should bear, and which (but a little while ago) I 
 must hide like a crime. Miss Flora, suffer me to present 
 to you the Vicomte Anne de Keroual de Saint-Yves, a 
 private soldier." 
 
 " I knew it ! " cried the boy ; *' I knew he was a noble ! '* 
 4
 
 60 ST. IVES 
 
 And I thought the eyes of Miss Flora said the same, but 
 more persuasively. All through this interview she kept 
 them on the ground, or only gave them to me for a mo- 
 ment at a time, and with a serious sweetness. 
 
 '' You may conceive, my friends, that this is rather a 
 painful confession," I continued. " To stand here before 
 you, vanquished, a prisoner in a fortress, and take my own 
 name upon my lips, is painful to the proud. And yet I 
 wished that you should know me. Long after this, we may 
 yet hear of one another — j^crhaps Mr. Gilchrist and myself 
 in the field and from opposing camps — and it would be a 
 pity if we heard and did not recognise." 
 
 They were both moved ; and began at once to press 
 upon me offers of service, such as to lend me books, get 
 me tobacco if I used it, and the like. This would have 
 been all mighty welcome, before the tunnel was ready. 
 Now it signified no more to me than to offer the transi- 
 tion I required. 
 
 " My dear friends," I said — " for you must allow me to 
 call you that, who have no others within so many hun- 
 dred leagues — perhaps you will think me fanciful and sen- 
 timental ; and perhaps indeed I am ; but there is one ser- 
 vice that I would beg of you before all others. You see 
 me set here on the top of this rock in the midst of your 
 city. Even with what liberty I have, I have the opportu- 
 nity to see a myriad roofs, and I dare to say thirty leagues 
 of sea and land. All this hostile ! Under all these roofs 
 my enemies dwell ; wherever I see the smoke of a house 
 rising, I must tell myself that some one sits before the chim- 
 ney and reads with joy of our reverses. Pardon me, dear 
 friends, I know that you must do the same, and I do not 
 grudge at it ! With you, it is all different. Show me your 
 house, then, were it only the chimney, or, if that be not 
 visible, the quarter of the town in which it lies 1 So, wheu
 
 ST. IVES IS SHOWN A HOUSE 61 
 
 I look all about me, I shall be able to say : * There is 
 one house iti which I am not quite unkindly thought 
 of.'" 
 
 Flora stood a moment. 
 
 ''It is a pretty thought/' said she, ''and as far as re- 
 gards Eonald and myself, a true one. Come, I believe I 
 can show you the very smoke out of our chimney." 
 
 So saying, she carried me round the battlements towards 
 the opposite or southern side of the fortress, and indeed to 
 a bastion almost immediately overlooking the place of our 
 projected flight. Thence we had a view of some fore- 
 shortened suburbs at our feet, and beyond of a green, open, 
 and irregular country rising towards the Pentland Hills. 
 The face of one of these summits (say two leagues from 
 where we stood) is marked with a procession of white 
 scars. And to this she directed my attention. 
 
 " You see these marks ? " she said. " We call them the 
 Seven Sisters. Follow a little lower with your eye, and 
 you will see a fold of the hill, the tops of some trees, and 
 a tail of smoke out of the midst of them. That is Swan- 
 ston Cottage, where my brother and I are living with my 
 aunt. If it gives you pleasure to see it, I am glad. We, 
 too, can see the castle from a corner in the garden, and we 
 go there in the morning often — do we not, Eonald ? — a-nd 
 we think of you, M. de Saint- Yves ; but I am afraid it 
 does not altogether make ns glad.'* 
 
 " Mademoiselle ! " said I, and indeed my voice was 
 scarce under command, " if you knew how your generous 
 words — how even the sight of you — relieved the horrors of 
 this place, I believe, I hope, I know, you would be glad. 
 I will come here daily and look at that dear chimney and 
 these green hills, and bless you from the heart, and dedi- 
 cate to yon the prayers of this poor sinner. Ah ! I do not 
 say they can avail ! "
 
 62 ST. rv^ES 
 
 " Who can sav that, M. de Saint-Yves?" she said, softly. 
 *' Bnt I think it is time we should be going." 
 
 " High time/' said Ronald, whom (to say the truth) I 
 had a little forgotten. 
 
 On the way back, as I was laying myself out to recover 
 lost ground with the youth, and to obliterate, if possible, 
 the memory of my last and somewhat too fervent speech, 
 who should come past us but the major ? I had to stand 
 aside and salute as he went by, but his eyes appeared en- 
 tirely occupied with Flora. 
 
 " Who is that man ? " she asked. 
 
 " He is a friend of mine," said I. '* I give him lessons 
 in French, and he has been very kind to me." 
 
 ''He stared," she said, — "I do not say, rudely; but 
 why should he stare ?" 
 
 *' If you do not wish to be stared at, mademoiselle, suf- 
 fer me to recommend a veil," said I. 
 
 She looked at me with what seemed anger. " I tell you 
 the man stared," she said. 
 
 And Ronald added : '* 0, I don't think he meant any 
 harm. I suj)pose he was just surprised to see us walking 
 about with a pr — with M. Saint- Yves." 
 
 But the next morning, when I went to Chevenix's rooms, 
 and after I had dutifully corrected his exercise — "1 com- 
 pliment you on your taste," said he to me. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ? " said I. 
 
 "0 no, I beg yours," said he. ''You understand me 
 perfectly, just as I do you." 
 
 I murmured something about enigmas. 
 
 " Well, shall I give you the key to the enigma ? " said 
 he, leaning back. " That was the young lady whom Go- 
 gnelat insulted and whom you avenged. I do not blame 
 you. She is a heavenly creature." 
 
 " With all my heart, to the last of it ! " said I. " And
 
 ST. IVES IS SHOWN A HOUSE 53 
 
 to the first also, if it amuses you ! You are become so very 
 acute of late that I suppose you must have your own 
 way," 
 
 **What is her name ? " he asked. 
 
 " Now, really ! " said I. " Do you think it likely she 
 has told me ? " 
 
 " I think it certain/' said he. 
 
 I could not restrain my laughter. " "Well, then, do you 
 think it likely I would tell you ? " I cried. 
 
 '* Not a bit,'' said he. " But come, to our lesson I "
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE ESCAPE 
 
 The time for our escape drew near, and the nearer it 
 came the less we seemed to enjoy the prospect. There is 
 but one side on which this castle can be left either with 
 dignity or safety ; but as there is the main gate and guard, 
 and the chief street of the upper city, it is not to be 
 thought of by escaping prisoners. In all other directions 
 an abominable precipice surrounds it, down the face of 
 which (if anywhere at all) we must regain our liberty. 
 By our concurrent labours in many a dark night, working 
 with the most anxious precautions against noise, we had 
 made out to pierce below the curtain about the south-west 
 corner, in a place they call the Devil's Elbow. I have 
 never met that celebrity ; nor (if the rest of him at all 
 comes up to what they called his elbow) have I the least 
 desire of his acquaintance. From the heel of the masonry, 
 the rascally, breakneck precipice descended sheer among 
 waste lands, scattered suburbs of tlie city, and houses in 
 the building. I had never the heart to look for any length 
 of time — the thought that I must make the descent in per* 
 son some dark night robbing me of breath ; and, indeed, 
 on anybody not a seaman or a steeple-jack, the mere sight 
 of the Devil's Elboto wrought like an emetic. 
 
 I don't know where the rope was got, and doubt if I 
 much cared. It was not that which gravelled me, but 
 whether, now that we had it, it would serve our turn. Its 
 
 54
 
 THE ESCAPE 55 
 
 length, indeed, we made a shift to fathom out ; but who 
 was to tell us how that length compared with the way we 
 had to go ? Day after day, there would be always some of 
 us stolen out to the Devil's Elhow and making estimates 
 of the descent, whether by a bare guess or the dropping of 
 stones. A private of pioneers remembered the formula for 
 that — or else remembered part of it and obligingly in- 
 vented the remainder. I had never any real confidence in 
 that formula ; and even had we got it from a book, there 
 were difficulties in the way of the application that might 
 have daunted Archimedes. We durst not drop any consid- 
 erable pebble lest the sentinels should hear, and those that 
 we dropped we could not hear ourselves. We had never a 
 watch — or none that had a second hand ; and though every 
 one of us could guess a second to a nicety, all somehow 
 guessed it differently. In short, if any two set forth upon 
 this enterprise, they invariably returned with two opinions, 
 and often with a black eye in the bargain. I looked on 
 upon these proceedings, although not without laughter, 
 yet with impatience and disgust. I am one that cannot 
 bear to see things botched or gone upon with ignorance ; 
 and the thought that some poor devil was to hazard his 
 bones upon such premises, revolted me. Had I guessed 
 the name of that unhappy first adventurer, my sentiments 
 might have been livelier still. 
 
 The designation of this personage was indeed all that 
 remained for us to do ; and even in that we had advanced 
 so far that the lot had fallen on Shed B. It had been de- 
 termined to mingle the bitter and the sweet ; and whoever 
 went down first, the whole of his shed-mates were to follow 
 next in order. This caused a good deal of Joy in Shed B, 
 and would have caused more if it had not still remained to 
 choose our pioneer. In view of the ambiguity in which 
 we lay as to the length of the rope and the height of the
 
 56 ST. IVES 
 
 precipice — and that this gentleman was to climb down 
 from fifty to seventy fathoms on a pitchy night, on a rope 
 entirely free, and with not so much as an infant child 
 to steady it at the bottom, a little backwardness was per- 
 haps excusable. But it was, in our case, more than a lit- 
 tle. The truth is, we were all womanish fellows about a 
 height ; and I have myself been put, more than once, liors 
 de combat by a less affair than the rock of Edinburgh 
 Castle. 
 
 We discussed it in the dark and between the passage of 
 the rounds ; and it was impossible for any body of men to 
 show a less adventurous spirit. I am sure some of us, and 
 myself first among the number, regretted Goguelat. Some 
 were persuaded it was safe, and could prove the same by 
 argument ; but if they had good reasons why some one else 
 should make the trial, they had better still why it should 
 not be themselves. Others, again, condemned the whole 
 idea as insane ; among these, as ill-luck would have it, a 
 seaman of the fleet ; who was the most disspiriting of all. 
 The height, he reminded us, was greater than the tallest 
 ship's mast, the rojje entirely free ; and he as good as de- 
 fied the boldest and strongest to succeed. We were re- 
 lieved from this dead-lock by our sergeant-major of dra- 
 goons. 
 
 '* Comrades," said he, "1 believe I rank you all ; and 
 for that reason, if you really wish it, I will be the first 
 myself. At the same time, you are to consider what the 
 chances are that I may prove to be the last, as well. I am 
 no longer young — I was sixty near a month ago. Since I 
 have been a prisoner, I have made for myself a little he- 
 daine. My arms are all gone to fat. And you must prom- 
 ise not to blame me, if I fall and play the devil with the 
 whole thing. 
 
 ** We cannot hear of such a thing \" said I. "M. La-
 
 THE ESCAPE 57 
 
 clas is the oldest man here ; and, as such, he shonld be the 
 yery last to offer. It is plain, we must draw lots." 
 
 " No," said M. Laclas ; " you put something else in my 
 head ! There is one here who owes a pretty candle to the 
 others, for they have kept his secret. Besides, the rest of 
 us are only rabble ; and he is another affair altogether. 
 Let Champdivers — let the noble go the first." 
 
 I confess there was a notable pause before the noble in 
 question got his voice. But there was no room for choice. 
 I had been so ill-advised, when I first joined the regiment, 
 as to take ground on my nobility. I had been often ral- 
 lied on the matter in the ranks, and had passed under the 
 by-names of Monseigjieur and the Marquis. It was now 
 needful I should justify myself and take a fair revenge. 
 
 Any little hesitation I may have felt passed entirely un- 
 noticed, from the lucky incident of a round happening at 
 that moment to go by. And during that interval of si- 
 lence there occurred something that sent my blood to the 
 boil. There was a private in our shed called Clausel, a 
 man of very ugly disposition. He had made one of the 
 followers of Goguelat ; but, whereas Goguelat had always 
 a kind of monstrous gaiety about him, Clausel was no less 
 morose than he was evil-minded. He was sometimes called 
 the General, and sometimes by a name too ill-mannered 
 for repetition. As we all sat listening, this inan's hand 
 w^as laid on my shoulder, and his voice whispered in my 
 ear : *^ If you don't go, I'll have you hanged. Marquis !" 
 
 As soon as the round was past — " Certainly, gentlemen ! '* 
 said I. " I will give you a lead, with all the pleasure in 
 the world. But, first of all, there is a hound here to be 
 punished. M. Clausel has just insulted me, and dishon- 
 oured the French army ; and I demand that he run the 
 gauntlet of this shed." 
 
 There was but one voice asking what he had done, and^
 
 58 ST. IVES 
 
 as soon as I had told them, but one voice agreeing to the 
 punishment. The General was, in consequence, extremely 
 roughly handled, and the next day was congratulated by 
 all who saw him on his new decorations. It was lucky for 
 ns that he was one of the prime movers and believers in our 
 project of escape, or he had certainly revenged himself by 
 a denunciation. As for his feelings towards myself, they 
 appeared, by his looks, to surpass humanity ; and I made 
 up my mind to give him a wide berth in the future. 
 
 Had I been to go down that instant, I believe I could 
 have carried it well. But it was already too late — the day 
 was at hand. The rest had still to be summoned. Nor 
 was this the extent of my misfortune ; for the next night, 
 and the night after, were adorned with a perfect galaxy of 
 stars, and showed every cat that stirred in a quarter of a 
 mile. During this interval, I have to direct your sympa- 
 thies on the Vicomte de Saint- Yves ! All addressed me 
 softly, like folk round a sick-bed. Our Italian corporal, 
 who had got a dozen of oysters from a fishwife, laid them 
 at my feet, as though I were a Pagan idol ; and I have 
 never since been wholly at my ease in the society of shell- 
 fish. He who was the best of our carvers brought me a 
 snuff-box, which he had just completed, and which, while 
 it was yet in hand, he had often declared he would not 
 part with under fifteen dollars. I believe the piece was 
 worth the money too ! And yet the voice stuck in my 
 throat with which I must thank him. I found myself, in 
 a word, to be fed up like a prisoner in a camp of anthro- 
 pophagi, and honoured like the sacrificial bull. And 
 what with these annoyances, and the risky venture imme- 
 diately ahead, I found my part a trying one to play. 
 
 It was a good deal of a relief when the third evening 
 closed about the castle with volumes of sea-fog. The lights 
 of Princes Street sometimes disappeared, sometimes blinked
 
 THE ESCAPE 59 
 
 across at us no brighter than the eyes of cats ; and five steps 
 from one of the hxnterns on the ramparts it was already 
 groping dark. We made haste to lie down. Had our 
 jailors been upon the watch, they must have observed our 
 conversation to die out unusually soon. Yet I doubt if 
 any of us slept. Each lay in his place, tortured at once 
 with the hope of liberty and the fear of a hateful death. 
 The guard call sounded ; the hum of the town declined by 
 little and little. On all sides of us, in their different quar- 
 ters, we could hear the watchmen cry the hours along the 
 street. Often enough, during my stay in England, have I 
 listened to these gruff or broken voices ; or perhaps gone 
 to my window when I lay sleepless, and watched the old 
 gentleman hobble by upon the causeway with his cape and 
 his cap, his hanger and his rattle. It was ever a thought 
 with me how differently that cry would re-echo in the 
 chamber of lovers, beside the bed of death, or in the con- 
 demned cell. I might be said to hear it that night myself 
 in the condemned cell ! At length a fellow with a voice 
 like a bull's began to roar out in the opposite thoroughfare : 
 
 *' Past yin o'cloak, and a dark, haary moarnin'." 
 
 At which we were all silently afoot. 
 
 As I stole about the battlements towards the — ^gallows, I 
 was about to write — the sergeant-major, perhaps doubtful 
 of my resolution, kept close by me, and occasionally jjrof- 
 fered the most indigestible reassurances in my ear. At 
 last I could bear them no longer. 
 
 " Be so obliging as to let me be ! " said I. *' I am 
 neither a coward nor a fool. What do yo^o know of 
 whether the rope be long enough ? But I shall know it 
 in ten minutes ! " 
 
 The good old fellow laughed in his moustache, and pat- 
 ted me. 
 
 It was all very well to show the disposition of my temper
 
 60 ST. IVES 
 
 before a friend alone ; before my assembled comrades the 
 thing had to go handsomely. It was then my time to 
 come on the stage ; and I hope I took it handsomely. 
 
 *' Now, gentlemen/' said I, ''if the rope is ready, here 
 is the criminal ! " 
 
 The tunnel was cleared, the stake driven, the rope ex- 
 tended. As I moved forward to the place, many of my 
 comrades caught me by the hand and wrung it, an atten- 
 tion I could well have done without. 
 
 " Keep an eye on Clausel ! " I whispered to Laclas ; and 
 with that, got down on my elbows and knees, took the 
 rope in both hands, and worked myself, feet foremost, 
 through the tunnel. When the earth failed under my 
 feet, I thought my heart would have stopped ; and a mo- 
 ment after I was demeaning myself in mid-air like a 
 drunken jumping-jack. I have never been a model of 
 piety, but at this juncture prayers and a cold sweat burst 
 from me simultaneously. 
 
 The line was knotted at intervals of eighteen inches ; 
 and to the inexpert it may seem as if it should have been 
 even easy to descend. The trouble was, this devil of a 
 piece of rope appeared to be inspired, not with life alone, 
 but with a personal malignity against myself. It turned to 
 the one side, paused for a moment, and then spun me like 
 a toasting-jack to the other ; slipped like an eel from the 
 clasp of my feet ; kept me all the time in the most out- 
 rageous fury of exertion ; and dashed me at intervals 
 against the face of the rock. I had no eyes to see with ; 
 and I doubt if there was anything to see but darkness. I 
 must occasionally have caught a gasp of breath, but it was 
 quite unconscious. And the whole forces of my mind 
 were so consumed with losing hold and getting it again, 
 that I could scarce have told whether I was going up oi 
 coming down.
 
 THE ESCAPE 61 
 
 Of a sndden I knocked against the cliff with such a 
 thump as almost bereft me of my sense ; and, as reason 
 twinkled back, I was amazed to find that I was in a state 
 of rest, that the face of the precipice here inclined out- 
 wards at an angle which relieved me almost wholly of the 
 burthen of my own weight, and that one of my feet was 
 safely planted on a ledge. I drew one of the sweetest 
 breaths in my experience, hugged myself against the rope, 
 and closed my eyes in a kind of ecstasy of relief. It occurred 
 to me next to see how far I was advanced on my unlucky 
 journey, a point on which I had not a shadow of a guess. I 
 looked up : there was nothing above me but the blackness 
 of the night and the fog. I craned timidly forward and 
 looked down. There, upon a floor of darkness, I beheld a 
 certain pattern of hazy lights, some of them aligned as in 
 thoroughfares, others standing apart as in solitary houses ; 
 and before I could well realise it, or had in the least esti- 
 mated my distance, a wave of nausea and vertigo warned 
 me to lie back and close my eyes. In this situation I had 
 really but the one wish, and that was something else to 
 think of ! Strange to say, I got it : a veil was torn from 
 my mind, and I saw what a fool I was — what fools we had 
 all been — and that I had no business to be thus dangling 
 between earth and heaven by my arms. The only thing to 
 have done was to have attached me to a rope and lowered 
 me, and I had never the wit to see it till that moment ! 
 
 I filled my lungs, got a good hold on my rope, and once 
 more launched myself on the descent. As it chanced, the 
 worst of the danger was at an end, and I was so fortunate 
 as to be never again exposed to any violent concussion. 
 Soon after I must have passed within a little distance of a 
 bush of wallflower, for the scent of it came over me with 
 that impression of reality which characterises scents in 
 darkness. This made me a second landmark, the ledge
 
 62 ST. IVES 
 
 being my first. I began accordingly to compute intervals 
 of time : so much to the ledge, so much again to the wall- 
 flower, so much more below. If I were not at the bottom 
 of the rock, I calculated I must be near indeed to the end 
 of the rope, and there was no doubt that I was not far from 
 the end of my own resources. I began to be light-headed 
 and to be tempted to let go, — now arguing that I was cer- 
 tainly arrived within a few feet of the level and could safely 
 risk a fall, anon persuaded I was still close at the top and 
 it was idle to continue longer on the rock. In the midst of 
 which I came to a bearing on plain ground, and had nearly 
 wept aloud. My hands Avere as good as flayed, my courage 
 entirely exhausted, and, what with the long strain and the 
 sudden relief, my limbs shook under me with more than 
 the violence of ague, and I Avas glad to cling to the rope. 
 
 But this was no time to give way. I had (by God's sin- 
 gle mercy) got myself alive out of that fortress ; and now 
 I had to try to get the otliers, my comrades. There was 
 about a fathom of rope to spare ; I got it by the end, and 
 searched the Avhole ground thoroughly for anything to 
 mike it fast to. In vain: the ground was broken and 
 stony, but there grew not there so much as a bush of 
 furze. 
 
 "Now then," thought I to myself, "here begins a new 
 lesson, and I believe it will prove richer than the first. I 
 ram not strong enough to keep this rope extended. If I do 
 not keep it extended the next man will be dashed against 
 the precipice. There is no reason why he should have my 
 extravagant good luck. I see no reason why he should not 
 fall — nor any place for him to fall on but my head." 
 
 From where I was now standing there was occasionally 
 visible, as the fog lightened, a lamp in one of the barrack 
 windows, Avhich gave me a measure of the height he had 
 to fall and the horrid force tliat he must strike me with.
 
 THE ESCAPE 63 
 
 What was yet worse, we had agreed to do without signals : 
 every so many minutes by Laclas' watch another man was 
 to be started from the battlements. Now, I had seemed to 
 myself to be about half an hour in my descent, and it 
 seemed near as long again that I waited, straining on the 
 ropfi; for my next comrade to begin. I began to be afraid 
 that our conspiracy was out, that my friends were all 
 secured, and that I should pass the remainder of the night, 
 and be discovered in the morning, vainly clinging to the 
 rope's end like a hooked fish upon an angle. I could not 
 refrain, at this ridiculous image, from a chuckle of laughter. 
 And the next moment I knew, by the Jerking of the rope, 
 that my friend had crawled out of the tunnel and was 
 fairly launched on his descent. It appears it was the sailor 
 who had insisted on succeeding me : as soon as my con- 
 tinued silence had assured him the rope was long enough, 
 Gautier, for that was his name, had forgot his former 
 arguments, and shown himself so extremely forward, that 
 Laclas had given way. It was like the fellow, who had no 
 harm in him beyond an instinctive selfishness. But he was 
 like to have paid pretty dearly for the privilege. Do as I 
 would, I could not keep the rope as I could have wished it ; 
 and he ended at last by falling on me from a height of 
 several yards, so that we both rolled together on the ground. 
 As soon as he could breathe, he cursed me beyond belief, 
 wept over his finger which he had broken, and cursed me 
 again. I bade him be still and think shame to himself to 
 be so great a cry-baby. Did he not hear the round going 
 by above ? I asked ; and who could tell but what the noise 
 of his fall was already remarked, and the sentinels at the 
 very moment leaning upon the battlements to listen ? 
 
 The round, however, went by, and nothing was dis- 
 covered ; the third man came to the ground quite easily ; 
 the fourth was, of course, child's play ; and before there
 
 64 ST. IVES 
 
 were ten of ns collected, it seemed to me that, withont the 
 least injustice to my comrades, I might proceed to take care 
 of myself. 
 
 I knew their plan : they had a map and an almanack, 
 and designed for Grangemouth, where tliey were to steal a 
 ship. Suppose tliem to do so, I had no idea they were 
 qualified to manage it after it was stolen. Their whole 
 escape, indeed, was the most haphazard thing imaginable ; 
 only the impatience of captives and the ignorance of pri- 
 vate soldiers would have entertained so misbegotten a 
 device ; and though I played the good comrade and worked 
 with them upon the tunnel, but for the lawyer's message I 
 should have let them go without me. Well, now they were 
 beyond my help, as tliey had always been beyond my coun- 
 selling ; and, without word said or leave taken, I stole out 
 of the little crowd. It is true I would rather have waited 
 to shake hands with Laclas, but in the last man who had 
 descended I thought I recognised Clausel, and since the 
 scene in the shed my distrust of Clausel was perfect. I 
 believed the man to be capable of any infamy, and events 
 have since shown that I was right.
 
 CHAPTER Vn 
 
 SWANSTOlsr COTTAGE 
 
 1 HAD two views. The first was, naturally, to get clear 
 of Edinburgh Castle and the town, to say nothing of my 
 fellow-prisoners ; the second to work to the southward so 
 long as it was night, and be near Swanston Cottage by 
 morning. What I should do there and then, I had no 
 guess, and did not greatly care, being a devotee of a couple 
 of divinities called Chance and Circumstance. Prepare, 
 if possible ; where it is impossible, work straight forward, 
 and keep your eyes open and your tongue oiled. Wit and 
 a ffood exterior — there is all life in a nutshell. 
 
 I had at first a rather chequered journey : got involved 
 in gardens, butted into houses, and had once even the mis- 
 fortune to awake a sleejjing family, the father of which, as 
 I suppose, menaced me from the window with a blunder- 
 buss. Altogether, though I had been some time gone from 
 my companions, I was still at no great distance, when a 
 miserable accident put a period to the escape. Of a sudden 
 the night was divided by a scream. This was followed by the 
 sound of something falling, and that again by the report 
 of a musket from the Castle battlements. It was strange 
 to hear the alarm spread through the city. In the fortress 
 drums were beat and a bell rung backward. On all hands 
 the watchmen sprang their rattles. Even in that limbo or 
 no-man's-land where I was wandering, lights were made in 
 the houses ; sashes were flung up ; I could hear neighbour- 
 5 65
 
 66 ST. IVES 
 
 ing families converse from window to window, and at 
 length I was challenged myself. 
 
 " Wha's that ? " cried a big voice. 
 
 I conld see it proceeded from a big man in a big night- 
 cap, leaning from a one-pair window ; and as I was not 
 yet abreast of his house, I judged it was more wise to an- 
 swer. This was not the first time I had had to stake my 
 fortunes on the goodness of my accent in a foreign tongue j 
 and I have always found the moment inspiriting, as a gam- 
 bler should. Pulling around me a sort of great-coat I had 
 made of my blanket, to cover my sulphur-covered livery, — 
 " A friend ! " said I. 
 
 ** What like's all this collieshangie ? " said he. 
 
 I had never heard of a collieshangie in my days, but with 
 the racket all about us in the city, I could have no doubt as 
 to the man's meaning. 
 
 *' I do not know, sir, really," said I ; " but I suppose 
 some of the prisoners will have escaped." 
 
 *' Bedamned ! " says he. 
 
 *'0, sir, they will be soon taken," I replied: "it has 
 been found in time. Good morning, sir I " 
 
 ** Ye walk late, sir ? " he added. 
 
 ** 0, surely not," said I, with a laugh. " Earlyish, if 
 you like !" which brought me finally beyond him, highly 
 pleased with my success. 
 
 I was now come forth on a good thoroughfare, which led 
 (as wsll as I could judge) in my direction. It brought me 
 almost immediately through a piece of street, whence I 
 could hear close by the springing of a watchman's rattle, 
 and where I suppose a sixth part of the windows would be 
 open, and the i)eople, in all sorts of night gear, talking 
 with a kind of tragic gusto from one to another. Here, 
 again, I must run the gauntlet of a half-dozen questions, 
 the rattle all the while sounding nearer ; but as I was not
 
 SWANSTON COTTAGE 67 
 
 walking inordinately quick, as I spoke like a gentleman, 
 and the lamps were too dim to show my dress, I carried it 
 off once more. One person, indeed, inquired where I was 
 off to at that hour. 
 
 I replied vaguely and cheerf ally, and as I escaped at one 
 end of this dangerous pass I could see the watchman's lan- 
 tern entering by the other. I was now safe on a dark coun- 
 try highway, out of sight of lights and out of the fear of 
 watchmen. And yet I had not gone above a hundred yards 
 before a fellow made an ugly rush at me from the roadside. 
 I avoided him with a leap, and stood on guard, cursing my 
 empty hands, wondering whether I had to do with an ofiB- 
 cer or a mere footpad, and scarce knowing which to wish. 
 My assailant stood a little ; in the thick darkness I could see 
 him bob and sidle as though he were feinting at me for an 
 advantageous onfall. Then he spoke. 
 
 *' My goo' frien'," says he, and at the first word I pricked 
 my ears, " my goo' frien', will you oblishe me with lil nesh- 
 ary inf amation ? Whish roa' t' Cramond ? " 
 
 I laughed out clear and loud, stepped up to the convivi- 
 alist, took him by the shoulders and faced him about. 
 *' My good friend," said I, *' I believe I know what is best 
 for you much better than yourself, and may God forgive 
 you the fright you have given me ! There, get yon gone 
 to Edinburgh ! " And I gave him a shove, which he obeyed 
 with the passive agility of a ball, and disappeared incon- 
 tinently in the darkness down the road by which I had 
 myself come. 
 
 Once clear of this foolish fellow, I went on again up a 
 gradual hill, descended on the other side through the 
 houses of a country village, and came at last to the bottom 
 of the main ascent leading to the Pentlands and my des- 
 tination. I was some way up when the fog began to 
 lighten ; a little farther, and I stepped by degrees into a
 
 68 ST. IVES 
 
 clear starry night, and saw in front of me, and quite dis- 
 tinct, the summits of the Pentlands, and behind, the val- 
 ley of the Forth and the city of my late captivity buried 
 under a lake of vapour. I had but one encounter — that of 
 a farm-cart, which I heard, from a great way ahead of me, 
 creaking nearer in the night, and which passed me about 
 the point of dawn like a thing seen in a dream, with two 
 silent figures in the inside nodding to the horse's steps. I 
 presume they were asleep ; by the sliawl about her head 
 and shoulders, one of them should be a woman. Soon, by 
 concurrent steps, the day began to break and the fog to 
 subside and roll away. The east grew luminous and was 
 barred with chilly colours, and the Castle on its rock, and 
 the spires and chimneys of the upper town, took gradual 
 shape, and arose, like islands, out of the receding cloud. 
 All about me was still and sylvan ; the road mounting and 
 winding, with nowhere a sign of any passenger, the birds 
 chirping, I suppose for warmth, the boughs of the trees 
 knocking together, and the red leaves falling in the wind. 
 It was broad day, but still bitter cold and the sun not up, 
 when I came in view of my destination. A single gable 
 and chimney of the cottage peeped over the shoulder of the 
 hill ; not far off, and a trifle higher on the mountain, a tall 
 old whitewashed farmhouse stood among trees, beside a 
 falling brook ; beyond were rough hills of pasture. I be- 
 thought me that shepherd folk were early risers, and if I 
 were once seen skulking in that neighbourhood it might 
 prove the ruin of my prospects ; took advantage of a line 
 of hedge, and worked myself up in its shadow till I was 
 come under the garden wall of my friends' house. The 
 cottage was a little quaint place of many rough-cast gables 
 and grey roofs. It had something the air of a rambling in- 
 finitesimal cathedral, tlie body of it rising in the midst two 
 storeys high, ^^ith a steep-pitched roof, and sending out
 
 SWANSTON COTTAGE 69 
 
 upon all hands (as it were chapter-houses, chapels, and 
 transepts) one-storeyed and dwarfish projections. To add 
 to this ap]3earance, it was grotesquely decorated with 
 crockets and gargoyles, ravished from some mediaeval 
 church. The place seemed hidden away, being not only 
 concealed in the trees of the garden, but, on the side on 
 which I approached it, buried as high as the eaves by the 
 rising of the ground. About the walls of the garden there 
 went a line of well-grown elms and beeches, the first entirely 
 bare, the last still pretty well covered with red leaves, and 
 the centre was occupied with a thicket of laurel and holly, 
 in which I could see arches cut and paths winding. 
 
 I was now within hail of my friends, and not much the 
 better. The house appeared asleep ; yet if I attempted to 
 wake any one, I had no guarantee it might not prove either 
 the aunt with the gold eyeglasses (whom I could only re- 
 member with trembling), or some ass of a servant-maid 
 who should burst out screaming at sight of me. Higher 
 up I could hear and see a shepherd shouting to his dogs 
 and striding on the rough sides of the mountain, and it 
 was clear I must get to cover without loss of time. No 
 doubt the holly thickets would have proved a very suitable 
 retreat, but there was mounted on the wall a sort of sign- 
 board not uncommon in the country of Great Britain, and 
 very damping to the adventurous : '' Spring Guns and 
 Man-Traps was the legend that it bore. I have learned 
 since that these advertisements, three times out of four, 
 were in the nature of Quaker guns on a disarmed battery, 
 but I had not learned it then, and even so, the odds would 
 not have been good enough. For a choice, I would a hun- 
 dred times sooner be returned to Edinburgh Castle and my 
 corner in the bastion, than to leave my foot in a steel trap 
 or have to digest the contents of an automatic blunderbuss. 
 There was but one chance left— that Ronald or Flora might
 
 70 ST. IVES 
 
 be the first to come abroad ; and in order to profit by this 
 chance if it occurred, I got me on the cope of the wall in 
 a place where it was screened by the thick branches of a 
 beech, and sat there w^aiting. 
 
 As the day wore on, the snn came very pleasantly out. 
 I had been awake all night, I had undergone the most vio- 
 lent agitations of mind and body, and it is not so much to 
 be wondered at, as it was exceedingly unwise and fool- 
 hardy, that I should have dropped into a doze. From this 
 I awakened to the characteristic sound of digging, looked 
 down, and saw immediately below me the back view of a gar- 
 dener in a stable waistcoat. Now he would appear steadily im- 
 mersed in his business; anon, to my more immediate terror, 
 he would straighten his back, stretch his arms, gaze about the 
 otherwise deserted garden, and relish a deep pinch of snuff. 
 It was my first thought to drop from the wall apon the 
 other side. A glance sufficed to show me that even the way 
 by which I had come was now cut off, and the field behind 
 me already occupied by a couple of shepherds' assistants 
 and a score or two of sheep. I have named the talismans 
 on which I habitually depend, but here was a conjuncture 
 in which both were wholly useless. The copestone of a 
 wall arrayed with broken bottles is no favourable rostrum ■, 
 and I might be as eloquent as Pitt, and as fascinating as 
 Eichelieu, and neither the gardener nor the shei^herd lads 
 would care a halfpenny. In short, there was no escape 
 possible from my absurd position : there I must continue 
 to sit until one or other of my neighbours should raise his 
 eyes and give the signal for my capture. 
 
 The part of the wall on which (for my sins) I Avas posted 
 could be scarce less than twelve feet high on the inside ; 
 the leaves of the beech which made a fashion of sheltering 
 me were already partly fallen ; and I was thus not only 
 perilously exposed myself, but enabled to command somf
 
 ST^ANSTON COTTAGE 71 
 
 part of the garden walks and (under an evergreen arch) the 
 front lawn and windows of the cottage. For long uothing 
 stirred except my friend with the spade ; then I heard the 
 opening of a sash ; and presently after saw Miss Flora ap- 
 pear in a morning wrapper and come strolling hitherward 
 between the borders, pausing and visiting her flowers — her- 
 self as fair. There was a friend; here, immediately beneath 
 me, an unknown quantity — the gardener : how to commu- 
 nicate with the one and not attract the notice of the other;' 
 To make a noise was out of the question ; I dared scarce to 
 breathe. I held myself ready to make a gesture as soon as 
 she should look, and she looked in every possible direction 
 but the one. She was interested in the vilest tuft of chick- 
 weed, she gazed at the summit of the mountain, she came 
 even immediately below me and conversed on the most fas- 
 tidious topics with the gardener ; but to the top of that 
 wall she would not dedicate a glance ! At last she bogan 
 to retrace her steps in the direction of the cottage ; where- 
 upon, becoming quite desperate, I broke off a piece of 
 plaster, took a happy aim, and hit her with it in the nape 
 of the neck. She clapped her hand to the place, tarned 
 about, looked on all sides for an explanation, and spying 
 me (as indeed I was parting the branches to make it the 
 more easy), half uttered and half swallowed dowu again 
 a cry of surprise. 
 
 The infernal gardener was erect upon the Instant. 
 ** What's your wull, miss ? " said he. 
 
 Her readiness amazed me. She had already turned and 
 was gazing in the opposite direction. *' There's a child 
 among the artichokes," she said. 
 
 " The Plagues of Egyp' ! I'll see to them I " cried the 
 gardener truculently, and with a hurried waddle disap- 
 peared among the evergreens. 
 
 That moment she turned, she came running towards me,
 
 72 ST. IVES 
 
 her arms stretched out, her face incarnadined for the one 
 moment with heavenly bhishes, the next pale as death. 
 *' Monsiear de Saint-Yves ! " slie said. 
 
 *' My dear yonng lady," I said, " this is the damnedest 
 liberty — I know it ! But what else was I to do ? " 
 
 " You have escaped ? " said she. 
 
 "If you call this escape," I replied. 
 
 ** But you cannot possibly stop there ! " she cried. 
 
 ''I know it," said I. " And where am I to go ?" 
 
 She struck her hands together. " I have it ! " she ex- 
 claimed. ''Come down by the beech trunk — you must 
 leave no footprint in the border — quickly, before Robie 
 can get back ! I am the hen-wife here : I keep the key ; 
 you must go into the hen-house — for the moment." 
 
 I was by her side at once. Both cast a hasty glance at 
 the blank windows of the cottage and so much as was visible 
 of the garden alleys ; it seemed there was none to observe 
 us. She caught me by the sleeve and ran. It was no time 
 for compliments ; hurry breathed upon our necks ; and I 
 ran along with her to the next corner of the garden, where 
 a wired court and a board hovel standing in a grove of 
 trees advertised my place of refuge. She thrust me in 
 without a word ; the bulk of the fowls were at the same 
 time emitted ; and I found myself the next moment locked 
 in alone with half a dozen sitting hens. In the twilight 
 of the place all fixed their eyes on me severely, and seemed 
 to upbraid me with some crying impropriety. Doubtless 
 the hen has always a puritanic appearance, although (in its 
 own behaviour) I could never observe it to be more partic- 
 4lar than its neighbours. But conceive a British hen I
 
 CHAPTER Vin 
 
 THE HEN-HOUSE 
 
 I WAS half an hour at least in the society of these dis- 
 tressing bipeds, and alone with my own reflections and 
 necessities. I was in great pain of my flayed hands, and 
 had nothing to treat them with ; I was hungry and 
 thirsty, and had nothing to eat or to drink ; I was thor- 
 oughly tired, and there was no place for me to sit. To 
 be snre there was the floor, but nothing could be imag- 
 ined less inviting. 
 
 At the sound of approaching footsteps, my good-humour 
 was restored. The key rattled in the lock, and Master 
 Eonald entered, closed the door behind him, and leaned 
 his back to it. 
 
 "I say, you know ! " he said, and shook a sullen young 
 head. 
 
 " I know it's a liberty," said I. 
 
 *'It's infernally awkward ; my position is infernally em- 
 barrassing," said he. 
 
 '* Well," said I, "and what do you think of mine ? " 
 
 This seemed to pose him entirely, and he remained gaz- 
 ing upon me with a convincing air of youth and inno- 
 cence. I could have laughed, but I was not so inhumane. 
 
 "1 am in your hands," said I, with a little gesture 
 ** You must do with me what you think right." 
 
 *' Ah, yes I " he cried : " if I knew ! " 
 
 " You see/' said I, "it would be different if you had re- 
 
 73
 
 74 ST. IVES 
 
 ceived yonr commission. Properly speaking, you are not 
 yet a combatant ; I have ceased to be one ; and I think it 
 arguable that we are just in the position of one ordinary 
 gentleman to another, Avhere friendship usually comes be» 
 fore the law. Observe, I only say arguable. For God's 
 sak6; don't think I wish to dictate an opinion. These are 
 the sort of nasty little businesses, inseparable from war, 
 which every gentleman must decide for himself. If I 
 were in your place " 
 
 ** Ay, what would you do, then ? " says he. 
 
 "Upon my word, I do not know," said I. *' Hesitate, 
 as you are doing, I believe." 
 
 **I will tell yon," he said. "1 have a kinsman, and 
 it is what he would think, that I am thinking. It is 
 General Graham of Lynedoch — Sir Thomas Graham. I 
 scarcely know him, but I believe I admire him more than 
 I do God." 
 
 " I admire him a good deal myself," said I, '* and have 
 good reason to. I have fought with him, been beaten, 
 and run away. Voii, vidus sum, evasi." 
 
 *' AVhat ! " he cried. " You were at Barossa ? " 
 
 ** There and back, which many could not say," said I. 
 ** It was a pretty aifair and a hot one, and the Spaniards 
 behaved abominably, as they usually did in a pitched field ; 
 the Marshal Duke of Belluno made a fool of himself, and 
 not for the first time ; and your friend Sir Thomas had 
 the best of it, so far as there was any best. He is a brave 
 and ready officer." 
 
 *' Now, then, you will understand ! " said the boy. ** I 
 wish to please Sir Thomas : what would he do ? " 
 
 ** Well, I can tell you a story," said I, " a true one too, 
 and about this very combat of Chiclana, or Barossa as you 
 call it. I was in the Eighth of the Line ; we lost the 
 eagle of the First Battalion, more betoken, but it cost yon
 
 THE HEN-HOUSE 75 
 
 dear. Well, we liad repulsed more charges than I care to 
 count, when your 87th Eegiment came on at a foot's pace, 
 very slow but very steady ; in front of them a mounted 
 officer, his hat in his hand, white-haired, and talking very 
 quietly to the battalions. Our Major, Vigo-Roussillon, set 
 spurs to his horse and galloped out to sabre him, but see- 
 ing him an old man, very handsome, and as composed as 
 if he were in a coffee-house, lost heart and galloped back 
 again. Only, you see, they had been very close together 
 for the moment, and looked each other in the eyes. Soon 
 after the Major was wounded, taken prisoner, and carried 
 into Cadiz. One fine day they announced to him the visit 
 of the General, Sir Thomas Graham. ' Well, sir,^ said the 
 General, taking him by the hand, ' I think we were face 
 to face upon the field/ It was the white-haired officer \" 
 
 " Ah ! " cried the boy, — his eyes were burning. 
 
 *' Well, and here is the point, ^' I continued. " Sir 
 Thomas fed the Major from his own table from that day, 
 and served him with six covers.'* 
 
 " Yes, it is a beautiful — a beautiful story," said Eonald. 
 ** And yet somehow it is not the same — is it ? " 
 
 *' I admit it freely," said I. 
 
 The boy stood awhile brooding. " Well, I take my risk 
 of it," he cried. " I believe it's treason to my sovereign — 
 I believe there is an infamous punishment for such a crime 
 — and yet I'm hanged if I can give you up." 
 
 I was as much moved as he. " I could almost beg you 
 to do otherwise," I said. " I was a brute to come to you, 
 a brute and a coward. You are a noble enemy ; you will 
 make a noble soldier." And with rather a happy idea of 
 a compliment for this warlike youth, I stood u]) straight 
 and gave him the salute. 
 
 He was for a moment confused ; his face flushed. 
 ** Well, well, I must be getting you something to eat, but
 
 76 ST. IVES 
 
 it will not be for six," he added, with a smile : " only 
 what we can get smuggled out. There is my aunt in 
 the road, you see," and he locked me in again with the 
 indignant hens. 
 
 I always smile when I recall that young fellow ; and 
 yet, if the reader were to smile also, I should feel ashamed. 
 If my son shall be only like him when he comes to that 
 ao-e. it will be a brave day for me and not a bad one for 
 France. 
 
 At the same time I cannot pretend that I was sorry 
 when his sister succeeded in his place. She brought me 
 a few crusts of bread and a jug of milk, which she had 
 handsomely laced with whisky after the Scottish man- 
 ner, 
 
 "1 am so sorry," she said : "I dared not bring you 
 anything more. We are so small a family, and my aunt 
 keeps such an eye upon the servants. I have put some 
 whisky in the milk — it is more wholesome so— and with 
 eggs you will be able to make something of a meal. How 
 many eggs will you be wanting to that milk ? for I must 
 be taking the others to my aunt— that is my excuse for 
 being here. I should think three or four. Do you know 
 how to beat them in ? or shall I do it ? " 
 
 Willing to detain her a while longer in the hen-house, I 
 displayed my bleeding palms; at which she cried out 
 aloud. 
 
 " My dear Miss Flora, you cannot make an omelette 
 without breaking eggs," said I ; '' and it is no bagatelle to 
 escape from Edinburgh Castle. One of us, I think, was 
 even killed." 
 
 " And you are as white as a rag, too," she exclaimed, 
 " and can hardly stand ! Here is my shawl, sit down upon 
 it here in the corner, and I will beat your eggs. See, I 
 have brought a fork too ; I should have been a good per-
 
 THE HEN-HOUSE 77 
 
 son to tns.e care of Jacobites or Covenanters in old days ! 
 You shall have more to eat this evening ; Ronald is to 
 bring it you from town. We have money enough, although 
 no food that we can call our own. Ah, if Ronald and I 
 kept house, you should not be lying in this shed ! He 
 admires you so much." 
 
 "My dear friend," said I, *'for God's sake do not em- 
 barrass me with more alms. I loved to receive them from 
 that hand, so long as they were needed ; but they are so 
 no more, and whatever else I may lack — and I lack every- 
 thing — it is not money." I pulled out my sheaf of notes 
 and detached the top one : it was written for ten pounds, 
 and signed by that very famous individual, Abraham New- 
 lands. " Oblige me, as you would like me to oblige your 
 brother if the parts were reversed, and take this note for 
 the expenses. I shall need not only food, but clothes." 
 
 ** Lay it on the ground," said she. " I must not stop 
 my beating." 
 
 " You are not offended ?" I exclaimed. 
 
 She answered me by a look that was a reward in itself, 
 and seemed to imply the most heavenly offers for the fut- 
 ure. There was in it a shadow of reproach, and such 
 warmth of communicative cordiality as left me speechless. 
 I watched her instead till her hens' milk was ready. 
 
 " Now," said she, '" taste that." 
 
 I did so, and swore it was nectar. She collected her 
 eggs and crouched in front of me to watch me eat. There 
 was about this tall young lady at the moment an air of 
 motherliness delicious to behold. I am like the English 
 general, and to this day I still wonder at my moderation. 
 
 " What sort of clothes will you be wanting ? " said she. 
 
 " The clothes of a gentleman," said I. " Right or 
 wrong, I think it is the part I am best qualified to play. 
 Mr. St. Ives (for that's to be my name upon the journey)
 
 78 ST. IVES 
 
 I conceive as rather a theatrical figure, and his make-np 
 should be to matcli." 
 
 " And yet there is a diflficnlty," said she. " If you got 
 coarse clothes the fit would hardly matter. But the clothes 
 of a fine gentleman — 0, it is absolutely necessary that 
 these should fit ! And above all, with your " — she paused 
 a moment — *' to our ideas somewhat noticeable man- 
 ners." 
 
 '' Alas for my poor manners ! " said 1. " But, my dear 
 friend Flora, these little noticeabilities are just what man- 
 kind has to suffer under. Yourself, you see, you're very 
 noticeable even when 3'ou come in a crowd to visit poor 
 prisoners in the Castle." 
 
 I was afraid I should frighten my good angel visitant 
 away, and without the smallest breath of pause went on to 
 add a few directions as to stuffs and colours. 
 
 She opened big eyes upon me. "O, Mr. St. Ives I " 
 she cried — " if that is to be your name — I do not say they 
 would not be becoming ; but for a journey, do you think 
 they would be wise ? I am afraid " — she gave a pretty 
 break of laughter — "1 am afraid they would be daft- 
 like!" 
 
 "Well, and am I not daft ? " I asked her. 
 
 "1 do begin to think you are," said she. 
 
 " There it is, then ! " said I. " I have been long enough 
 a figure of fun. Can you not feel with me that perhaps 
 the bitterest thing in this captivity has been the clothes ? 
 Make me a captive — bind me with chains if you like — but 
 let me be still myself. You do not know what it is to be 
 a walking travesty — among foes," I added, bitterly. 
 
 " 0, but you are too unjust ! " she cried. " You speak as 
 though any one ever dreamed of laughing at you. But no 
 one did. "We were all pained to the heart. Even my aunt 
 —though sometimes I do think she was not quite in gootK
 
 THE HEN-HOUSE 79 
 
 taste — you should have seen her and heard her at home ! 
 She took so much interest. Every patch in your clothes 
 made us sorry ; it should have been a sister's work." 
 
 " That is what I never had — a sister/' said I. " But 
 since you say that I did not make you laugh /' 
 
 " 0, Mr. St. Ives ! never ! " she exclaimed. '' Xot for one 
 moment. It was all too sad. To see a gentleman " 
 
 " In the clothes of a harlequin, and begging .? " I sug- 
 gested. 
 
 " To see a gentleman in distress, and nobly supporting 
 it/' she said. 
 
 " And do you not understand, my fair foe," said I, " that 
 even if all were as you say — even if you had thought my 
 travesty were becoming — I should be only the more anx- 
 ious, for my sake, for my country's sake, and for the sake 
 of your kindness, that you should see him whom you have 
 helped as God meant him to be seen ? that you should 
 have something to remember him by at least more charac- 
 teristic than a misfitting sulphur-yellow suit, and half a 
 week's beard ? " 
 
 ''You think a great deal too much of clothes," she said, 
 "1 am not that kind of girl." 
 
 " And I'm afraid I am that kind of a man," said I. 
 " But do not think of me too harshly for that. I talked 
 just now of something to remember by. I have many of 
 them myself, of these beautiful reminders, of these keep- 
 sakes, that I cannot be parted from until I lose memory 
 and life. Many of them are great things, many of them 
 are high virtues — charity, mercy, faith. But some of them 
 are trivial enough. Miss Flora, do you remember the day 
 that I first saw you, the day of the strong east wind ? 
 Miss Flora, shall I tell you what you wore ? " 
 
 We had both risen to our feet, and she had her hand 
 already on the door to go. Perhaps this attitude embol-
 
 St- ST. IVES 
 
 dened me to profit by the last seconds of onr interview ; and 
 it certainly rendered her escape the more easy. 
 
 '* 0, you are too romantic ! " she said, laughing ; and 
 with that my sun was blown out, my enchantress had fled 
 away, and I was again left alone in the twilight with the 
 lady hens.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THREE IS COMPANY, AKD FOUR NONE 
 
 The rest of the day I slept in the corner of the hen- 
 house upon Flora's shawl. Nor did I awake until a light 
 shone suddenly in my eyes, and starting up with a gasp 
 (for, indeed, at the moment I dreamed I was still swinging 
 froiE. the Castle battlements) I found Ronald bending 
 over me with a lantern. It appeared it was past midnight, 
 that I had slept about sixteen hours, and that Flora had 
 returned her poultry to the shed and I had heard her not. 
 I could not but wonder if she had stooped to look at me as 
 I slept. The puritan hens now slept irremediably; and 
 being cheered with the promise of supper I wished them 
 an ironical good-night, and was lighted across the garden 
 and noiselessly admitted to a bedroom on the ground floor 
 of the cottage. There I found soap, water, razors — 
 offered me diffidently by my beardless host — and an out- 
 fit of new clothes. To be shaved again without depend- 
 ing on the barber of the gaol was a source of a delicious, if 
 a childish joy. My hair was sadly too long, but I was none 
 so unwise as to make an attempt on it myself. And, in- 
 deed, I thought it did not wholly misbecome me as it was, 
 being by nature curly. The clothes were about as good as 
 I expected. The waistcoat was of toilenet, a pretty piece, 
 the trousers of fine kerseymere, and the coat sat ezrraor- 
 dinarily well. Altogether, when I beheld this channeling 
 in the glass, I kissed my hand to him. 
 6 81
 
 82 ST. IVES 
 
 " My dear fellow/* said I, " have you no scent ?*' 
 
 " Good God, no ! " cried Ronald. " What do yon want 
 with scent ^" 
 
 " Capital thing on a campaign/' said I. '' But I can do 
 without." 
 
 I was now led, with the same precautions against noise, 
 into the little bow-windowed dining-room of the cottage. 
 The shutters were up, the lamp guiltily turned low ; the 
 beautiful Flora greeted me in a whisper ; and when I was 
 set down to table, the pair proceeded to help me with pre- 
 cautions that might have seemed excessive in the Ear of 
 Dionysius. 
 
 '^ She sleeps up there," observed the boy, pointing to 
 the ceiling ; and the knowledge that I was so imminently 
 near to the resting-place of that gold eyeglass touched even 
 myself with some uneasiness. 
 
 Our excellent youth had imported from the city a meat 
 pie, and I was glad to find it flanked with a decanter of 
 really admirable wine of Oporto. While I ate, Ronald en- 
 tertained me with the news of the city, which had naturally 
 rung all day with our escape : troops and mounted mes- 
 sengers had followed each other forth at all hours and in all 
 directions ; but according to the last intelligence no recapt- 
 ure had been made. Opinion in town was very favourable 
 to us, our courage was applauded, and many professed regret 
 that our ultimate chance of escape should be so small. The 
 man who had fallen was one Sombref , a peasant ; he was one 
 who slept in a different part of the Castle ; and I was thus 
 assured that the whole of my former companions had at- 
 tained their liberty, and Shed A was untenanted. 
 
 From this we wandered insensibly into other topics. It 
 is impossible to exaggerate the pleasure I took to be thus 
 sitting at the same table with Flora, in the clothes of a 
 gentleman, at liberty and in the full possession of my
 
 THEEE IS COMPANY, AIS^D FOUR NONE 83 
 
 Bpirits and resources ; of all of which I had need, because 
 it was necessary that I should support at the same time 
 two opposite characters, and at once play the cavalier and 
 lively soldier for the eyes of Eonald, and to the ears of 
 riora maintain the same profound and sentimental note 
 that I had already sounded. Certainly there are days 
 when all goes well with a man ; when his wit, his diges- 
 tion, his mistress are in a conspiracy to spoil him, and even 
 the weather smiles upon his wishes. I will only say of my- 
 self upon that evening that I surpassed my expectations, 
 and was privileged to delight my hosts. Little by little 
 they forgot their terrors and I my caution ; until at last 
 we were brought back to earth by a catastrophe that might 
 Tery easily have been foreseen, but was not the less aston- 
 ishing to us when it occurred. 
 
 I had filled all the glasses. "1 have a toast to propose,'* 
 I whispered, " or rather three, but all so inextricably in- 
 terwoven that they will not bear dividing. I wish first to 
 drink to the health of a brave and therefore a generous en- 
 emy. He found me disarmed, a fugitive and helpless. 
 Like the lion, he disdained so poor a triumph ; and when 
 he might have vindicated an easy valour, he preferred to 
 make a friend. I wish that we should next drink to a 
 fairer and a more tender foe. She found me in prison ; 
 ghe cheered me tvith a priceless symjDathy ; what she has 
 done since, I know she has done in mercy, and I only pray 
 — I dare scarce hope — her mercy may prove to have been 
 merciful. And I wish to conjoin with these, for the first 
 and perhaps the last time, the health — and I fear I may 
 already say the memory — of one who has fought, not 
 always without success, against the soldiers of your nation ; 
 but who came here, vanquished already, only to be van- 
 quished again by the loyal hand of the one, by the unfor- 
 gettable eyes of the other.''
 
 84 ST. IVES 
 
 It is to be feared I may have lent at times a certain 
 resonancy to my voice ; it is to be feared that Ronald, 
 who was none the better for his own hospitality, may have 
 set down his glass with something of a clang. Whatever 
 may have been the cause, at least, I had scarce finished 
 my compliment before we were aware of a thnmpupon the 
 ceiling overhead. It was to be thonglit some very solid 
 body had descended to the floor from the level (possibly) of 
 a bed. I have never seen consternation painted in more 
 lively colours than on the faces of my hosts. It was pro- 
 posed to smuggle me forth into the garden, or to conceal 
 my form under a horsehair sofa which stood against the 
 wall. For the first expedient, as was now plain by the ap- 
 proaching footsteps, there was no longer time ; from the 
 second I recoiled with indignation. 
 
 " My dear creatures," said I, " let us die, but do not 
 let us be ridiculous.*' 
 
 The words were still upon my lips when the door opened 
 and my friend of the gold eyeglass appeared, a memorable 
 figure, on the threshold. In one hand she bore a bedroom 
 candlestick ; in the other, with the steadiness of a dra- 
 goon, a horse-pistol. She was wound about in shawls 
 which did not wholly conceal the candid fabric of her 
 nightdress, and surmounted by a nightcap of portentous 
 architecture. Thus accoutred, she made her entrance ; 
 laid down the candle and pistol, as no longer called for ; 
 looked about the room with a silence more eloquent than 
 oaths ; and then, in a thrilling voice — " To whom have I 
 the pleasure ? " she said, addressing me with a ghost of a bow. 
 
 " Madam, I am charmed, I am sure," said I. " The 
 story is a little long ; and our meeting, however welcome, 
 was for the moment entirely unexpected by myself. I am 
 
 sure " but here I found I was quite sure of nothing, and 
 
 tried again. "I have the honour," I began, and found I had
 
 THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE 85 
 
 the honour to be only exceedingly confused. With that, I 
 threw myself outright upon her mercy. " Madam, I must 
 be more frank with you," I resumed. '^ You have already 
 proved your charity and compassion for the French pris- 
 oners. I am one of these ; and if my appearance be not 
 too much changed, you may even yet recognise in me that 
 Oddity who had the good fortune more than once to make 
 you smile." 
 
 Still gazing upon me through her glass, she uttered an 
 uncompromising grunt ; and then, turning to her niece — 
 *' Flora," said she, " how comes he here ?" 
 
 The culprits poured out for a while an antiphony of ex- 
 planations, which died out at last in a miserable silence. 
 
 ** I think at least you might have told your aunt," she 
 snorted. 
 
 " Madam,** I interposed, " they were about to do so. It 
 is my fault if it be not done already. But I made it my 
 prayer that your slumbers might be respected, and this nee 
 essary formula of my presentation should be delayed untU 
 to-morrow in the morning." 
 
 The old lady regarded me with undissembled incredulity, 
 to which I was able to find no better repartee than a pro- 
 found and I trust graceful reverence. 
 
 ** French prisoners are very well in their place," sht 
 said, "but I cannot see that their place is in my private 
 dining-room." 
 
 " Madam," said I, ** I hope it may be said without of- 
 fence, but (except the Castle of Edinburgh) I cannot think 
 upon the spot from which I would so readily be absent." 
 
 At this, to my relief, I thought I could perceive a ves- 
 tige of a smile to steal upon that iron countenance and to 
 be bitten immediately in. 
 
 " And if it is a fair question, what do they call J6 ?" sbo 
 asked.
 
 86 ST. IVES 
 
 » 
 
 " At your service, tlie Yicomte Anne de St. -Yves, 
 said I. 
 
 " Moslia the Viscount," said she, " I am afraid you do 
 us plain people a great deal too much honour." 
 
 " My dear lady," said I, " let us be serious for a moment. 
 What was I to do ? Where was I to go ? And how can 
 you be angry with these benevolent children, who took 
 pity on one so unfortunate as myself ? Your humble ser- 
 vant is no such terrific adventurer that you should come 
 out against him with horse-pistols and"— smiling — ''bed- 
 room candlesticks. It is but a young gentleman in ex- 
 treme distress, hunted upon every side, and asking no 
 more than to escape from his pursuers. I know your char- 
 acter, I read it in your face " — the heart trembled in my 
 body as I said these daring words. " There are unhappy 
 English prisoners in France at this day, perhaps at this 
 hour. Perhaps at this hour they kneel as I do ; they take 
 the hand of her who might conceal or assist them ; they 
 press it to their lips as I do " 
 
 " Here, here ! " cried the old lady, breaking from my 
 solicitations. ''Behave yourself before folk! Saw ever 
 any one the match of that ? And on earth, my dears, what 
 are we to do with him ? " 
 
 " Pack him off, my dear lady," said I : " pack off the 
 impudent fellow double-quick ! And if it may be, and your 
 gooti heart allows it, help him a little on the way he has 
 to go.'' 
 
 "What's this pie?" she cried stridently. "Where is 
 this pie from. Flora ?" 
 
 No answer was vouchsafed by my unfortunate and (I 
 may say) extinct accomplices. 
 
 "Is that my port?" she pursued. "Hough I Will 
 somebody give me a glass of my port wine ? " 
 
 I made haste to serve her.
 
 THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE 87 
 
 She looked at me over the rim with an extraordinary ex- 
 pression. "1 hope ye liked it ?" said she. 
 
 ** It is even a magnificent wine/' said I. 
 
 *'Awell, it was my father laid it down/' she said. 
 *' There were few knew more about port wine than mj 
 father, God rest him ! " She settled herself in a chair with 
 an alarming air of resolution. *' And so there is some par- 
 ticular direction that you wish to ^-o in ? " said she. 
 
 *' 0/' said I, following her example, " I am by no 
 means such a vagrant as you suppose. I have good friends, 
 if I could get to them, for which all I want is to be once 
 clear of Scotland ; and I have money for the road." And 
 I produced my bundle. 
 
 " English banknotes ? " she said. " That's not very 
 handy for Scotland. It's been some fool of an Englishman 
 that's given you these, I'm thinking. How much is 
 it?" 
 
 "I declare to heaven I never thought to count !" I ex- 
 claimed. " But that is soon remedied." 
 
 And I counted out ten notes of ten pound each, all in 
 the name of Abraham Newlands, and five bills of country 
 bankers for as many guineas. 
 
 "One hundred and twenty-six pound five," cried the 
 old lady. " And you carry such a sum about you, and 
 have not so much as counted it ! If you are not a thief, 
 you must allow you are very thief-like." 
 
 " And yet, madam, the money is legitimately vaiuh, ' 
 said I. 
 
 She took one of the bills and held it up. " Is there any 
 probability, now, that this could be traced ? " she asked. 
 
 "■ Js'one, I should suppose ; and if it were, it would be 
 no matter," said I. " With your usual penetration, you 
 guessed right. An Englishman brought it me. It reached 
 me, through the hands of his English solicitor, from my
 
 88 ST. IVES 
 
 great-uncle, the Comte de Keroual de Saint- Yves, I be« 
 lieve the richest emigre in London." 
 
 "1 can do no more than take your word for it," said 
 she. 
 
 "And I trnst, madam, not less," said I. 
 
 " Well," said she, "at this rate the matter may be feasi* 
 ble. I will cash one of these five-guinea bills, less the 
 exchange, and give you silver and Scots notes to bear you 
 as far as the border. Beyond that, Mosha the Viscount, 
 you will have to depend upon yourself." 
 
 I could not but express a civil hesitation as to whether 
 the amount would sufl&ce, in my case, for so long a 
 journey. 
 
 " Ay," said she, " but you havenae heard me out. For 
 if you are not too fine a gentleman to travel with a pair of 
 drovers, I believe I have found the very thing, and the 
 Lord forgive me for a treasonable old wife ! There are a 
 couple stopping up bj with the shepherd-man at the farm ; 
 to-morrow they will take the road for England, probably 
 by skriegh of day — and in my opinion you had best be 
 travelling with the stots," said she. 
 
 ** For Heaven's sake do not suppose me to be so effemi- 
 nate a character ! " I cried. " An old soldier of Napoleon 
 is certainly beyond suspicion. But, dear lady, to what 
 end ? and how is the society of these excellent gentlemen 
 supposed to help me ? " 
 
 "My dear sir," said she, "you do not at all understand 
 your own predicament, and must just leave your matters 
 in the hands of those who do. I daresay you have never 
 even heard tell of the drove-roads or the drovers ; and I am 
 certainly not going to sit up all night to explain it to you. 
 Suffice it, that it is me who is arranging this affair — the 
 more shame to me ! — and that is the way ye have to go. 
 Ronald," she continued, " away up-by to the shepherds ;
 
 THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE 89 
 
 rowst them out of their beds, and make it j)erfectly dis- 
 tinct that Sim is not to leave till he has seen me." 
 
 Ronald was nothing loath to escape from his aunt's 
 neighbourhood, and left the room and the cottage with a 
 silent expedition that was more like flight than mere 
 obedience. Meanwhile the old lady turned to her niece. 
 
 " And I would like to know what we are to do with him 
 the night ! " she cried. 
 
 ''Ronald and I meant to put him in the hen-house," 
 said the encrimsoned Flora. 
 
 "And I can tell you he is to go to no such a place," re- 
 plied the aunt. " Hen-house, indeed ! If a guest he is to 
 be, he shall sleep in no mortal hen-house. Your room is 
 the most fit, I think, if he will consent to occupy it on so 
 great a suddenty. And as for you. Flora, you shall sleep 
 with me.'' 
 
 I could not help admiring the prudence and tact of this 
 old dowager, and of course it was not for me to make objec- 
 tions. Ere I well knew how, I was alone with a flat candle- 
 stick, which is not the most sympathetic of companions, 
 and stood studying the snuff in a frame of mind between 
 triumph and chagrin. All had gone well with my flight : 
 the masterful lady who had arrogated to herself the arrange- 
 ment of the details gave me every confidence ; and I saw 
 myself already arriving at my uncle's door. But, alas ! it 
 was another story with my love affair. I had seen and 
 spoken with her alone ; I had ventured boldly ; I had been 
 not ill received ; I had seen her change colour, Iiad enjoyed 
 the undissembled kindness of her eyes ; and now, in a 
 moment, down comes upon the scene that apocalyptic fig- 
 are with the nightcap and the horse-pistol, and with the 
 very wind of her coming behold me separated from mj 
 love ! Gratitude and admiration contended in my breast 
 with the extreme of natural rancour. My appearance in
 
 90 ST, lYES 
 
 her honse at past midnight had an air (I could not disguise 
 it from myself) that was insolent and underhand, and could 
 not but minister to the worst suspicions. And the old lady 
 had taken it well. Her generosity was no more to be called 
 in question than her courage, and I was afraid that her 
 intelligence would be found to match. Certainly, Miss 
 Flora had to support some shrewd looks, and certainly she 
 had been troubled. I could see but the one way before me : 
 to profit by an excellent bed, to try to sleep soon, to be 
 stirring early, and to hope for some renewed occasion in 
 the morning. To have said so much and yet to say no 
 more, to go out into the world upon so half-hearted a part- 
 ing, was more than I could accept. 
 
 It is my belief that the benevolent fiend sat up all night 
 to baulk me. She was at my bedside with a candle long 
 ere day, roused me, laid out for me a damnable misfit of 
 clothes, and bade me pack my own (which were wholly 
 unsuited to the journey) in a bundle. Sore grudging, I 
 arrayed myself in a suit of some country fabric, as delicate 
 as sackcloth and about as becoming as a shroud ; and, on 
 coming forth, found the dragon had prepared for me a 
 hearty breakfast. She took the head of the table, poured 
 out the tea, and entertained me as I ate with a great deal 
 of good sense and a conspicuous lack of charm. How often 
 did I not regret the change ! — how often compare her, and 
 condemn her in the comparison, with her charming niece ! 
 But if my entertainer was not beautiful, she had certainly 
 been busy in my interest. Already she was in communi- 
 cation with my destined fellow-travellers ; and the device 
 on which she had struck appeared entirely suitable. I was 
 a young Englishman who had outrun the constable ; war- 
 rants were out against me in Scotland, and it had become 
 needful I should pass the border without loss of time, and 
 privately.
 
 THKEE IS COMPANY, AITD FOUE NOIs^E 91 
 
 " I have given a very good account of you/' said she, 
 *' which I liope you may justify. I told them there was 
 nothing against you beyond the fact that you were put to 
 the haw (if that is the right word) for debt." 
 
 " I pray God you have the expression incorrectly, ma'am/* 
 said X. "I do not give myself out for a person easily 
 alarmed ; but you must admit there is something barbarous 
 and medigeval in the sound well qualified to startle a poor 
 foreigner." 
 
 ''It is the name of a process in Scots Law, and need 
 alarm no honest man," said she. *'But you are a very 
 idle-minded young gentleman ; you must still have your 
 Joke, I see : I only hope you will have no cause to regret 
 it." 
 
 '' I pray you not to suppose, because I speak lightly, 
 that I do not feel deeply," said I. ''Your kindness has 
 quite conquered me ; I lay myself at your disposition, I 
 beg you to believe, with real tenderness ; I pray you to 
 consider me from henceforth as the most devoted of your 
 friends." 
 
 " Well, well," she said, " here comes your devoted friend 
 the drover. I'm thinking he will be eager for the road ; 
 and I will not be easy myself till I see you well off the 
 premises, and the dishes washed, before my servant-woman 
 wakes. Praise God, we have gotten one that is a treasure 
 at the sleeping ! " 
 
 The morning was already beginning to be blue in the 
 trees of the garden, and to put to shame the candle by 
 which I had breakfasted. The lady rose from table, and I 
 had no choice but to follow her example. All the time I 
 was beating my brains for any means by which I should be 
 able to get a word apart with Flora, or find the time to 
 write her a billet. The windows had been open while I 
 breakfasted, I suppose to ventilate the room from any traces
 
 92 ST. IVES 
 
 of my passage there ; and, Master Ronald appearing on the 
 front hiAvn, my ogre leaned forth to address him. 
 
 '' Ronald/' she said, " wasn't that Sim that went bv the 
 wall?" 
 
 I snatched my advantage. Right at her back there was pen, 
 ink, and paper laid out. I wrote : '' I love you " ; and before 
 I had time to write more, or so much as to blot what I had 
 wi'itten, I was again under the guns of the gold eyeglasses. 
 
 " It's time," she began ; and then, as she observed my 
 occupation, "Umph !" she broke off. *' Ye have .some- 
 thing to write ?" she demanded. 
 
 " Some notes, madam," said I, bowing with alacrity. 
 
 *' Notes," she said ; ** or a note ? " 
 
 *' There is doubtless %om.Q finesse of the English language 
 that I do not comprehend," said I. 
 
 ''I'll contrive, however, to make my meaning very plain 
 to ye, Mosha le Viscount," she continued. "I suppose 
 you desire to be considered a gentleman ? " 
 
 '' Can you doubt it, madam ?" said I. 
 
 " I doubt very much, at least, whether you go to the 
 right way about it," she said. " You have come here to 
 me, I cannot very well say how ; I think you will admit 
 you owe me some thanks, if it Avas only for the breakfast I 
 made ye. But what are you to me ? A waif young man, 
 not so far to seek for looks and manners, with some Eng- 
 lish notes in your pocket and a price upon your head. I 
 am a lady ; I have been your hostess, with however little 
 will ; and I desire that this random acquaintance of yours 
 with my family will cease and determine." 
 
 I believe I must have coloured. " Madam," said I, "the 
 notes are of no importance ; and your least pleasure ought 
 certainly to be my law. You have felt, and you have been 
 pleased to express, a doubt of me. I tear them up." 
 Which yor may be sure I did thoroughly.
 
 THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE 93 
 
 *' There's a good lad ! " said the dragon, and immediately 
 led the way to the front lawn. 
 
 The brother and sister were both waiting us here, and, as 
 well as I could make out in the imperfect light, bore every 
 appearance of having passed through a rather cruel experi- 
 ence. Eonald seemed ashamed to so much as catch my 
 eye in the presence of his aunt, and was the picture of em- 
 barrassment. As for Flora, she had scarce the time to cast 
 me one look before the dragon took her by the arm, and 
 began to march across the garden in the extreme first glim- 
 mer of the dawn without exchanging speech. Eonald and 
 I followed in equal silence. 
 
 There was a door in that same high wall on the top of 
 which I had sat perched no longer gone than yesterday 
 morning. This the old lady set open with a key ; and on 
 the other side we were aware of a rough-looking, thick-set 
 man, leaning with his arms (through which was passed a 
 formidable staff) on a dry-stone dyke. Him the old lady 
 immediately addressed. 
 
 ''Sim," said she, ''this is the young gentleman." 
 
 Sim replied with an inarticulate grumble of sound, and 
 a movement of one arm and his head, which did duty for 
 a salutation. 
 
 "Now, Mr. St. Ives," said the old lady, "it*s high time 
 for you to be taking the road. But first of all let me give 
 the change of your five-guinea bill. Here are four pounds 
 of it in British Linen notes, and the balance in small silver, 
 less sixpence. Some charge a shilling, I believe, but I have 
 given you the benefit of the doubt. See and guide it with 
 all the sense that you possess." 
 
 "And here, Mr. St. Ives," said Flora, speaking for the first 
 time, "is a plaid which you will find quite necessary on so 
 rough a journey. I hope you will take It from the hands 
 of a Scotch friend." she added, and her voice trembled.
 
 94 ST. IVES 
 
 " Genuine holly : I cut it myself," said Ronald, and gave 
 me as good a cudgel as a man could wish for in a row. 
 
 The formality of these gifts, and the waiting figure of 
 the driver, told me loudly that I must be gone. I dropjied 
 on one knee and bade farewell to the aunt, kissing her 
 hand. I did the like — but with how different a passion ! — 
 to her niece ; as for the boy, I took him to my arms and 
 embraced him with a cordiality that seemed to strike him 
 speechless. " Farewell ! " and " Farewell ! " I said. " I 
 shall never forget my friends. Keep me sometimes in 
 memory. Farewell !" With that I turned my back 
 and began to walk away ; and had scarce done so, when 
 I heard the door in the high wall close behind me. Of 
 course this was the aunt^s doing ; and of course, if I know 
 anything of human character, she would not let me go 
 without some tart expressions. I declare, even if I had 
 heard them, I should not have minded in the least, for I was 
 quite persuaded that, whatever admirers I might be leaving 
 behind me in Swanston Cottage, the aunt was not the least 
 sincere.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE DROVERS 
 
 It took me a little effort to come abreast of my new com- 
 panion ; for though he walked with an ugly roll and no 
 great appearance of speed, he could cover the ground at a 
 good rate when he wanted to. Each looked at the other : 
 I with natural curiosity, he with a great appearance of 
 distaste. I have heard since that his heart was entirely 
 set against me ; he had seen me kneel to the ladies, and 
 diagnosed me for a " gesterin' eediot." 
 
 " So, ye're for England, are ye ?'' said he. 
 
 I told him yes. 
 
 " Weel, there's waur places, I believe," was his reply ; 
 and he relapsed into a silence which was not broken during 
 a quarter of an hour of steady walking. 
 
 This interval brought us to the foot of a bare green val- 
 ley, which wound upwards and backwards among the hills. 
 A little stream came down the midst and made a succes- 
 sion of clear pools ; near by the lowest of which I was 
 aware of a drove of shaggy cattle, and a man who seemed 
 the very counterpart of Mr. Sim making a breakfast upon 
 bread and cheese. This second drover (whose name proved 
 to be Candlish) rose on our approach. 
 
 ** Here's a mannie that's to gang through with us," said 
 Sim. ''It was the auld wife, Gilchrist, wanted it." 
 
 *' Aweel, aweel," said the other ; and presently, remem- 
 
 95
 
 96 ST. IVES 
 
 bering his manners, and looking on me with a solemn grin, 
 *' A fine day ! " says he. 
 
 I agreed with him, and asked him how he did. 
 
 " Brawly,^' was tlie reply ; and without further civilities, 
 the pair proceeded to get the cattle under way. This, as 
 well as almost all the herding, was the work of a pair of 
 comely and intelligent dogs, directed by Sim or Candlish 
 in little more than monosyllables. Presently we were as- 
 cending the side of the mountain by a rude green track, 
 whose presence I had not hitherto observed. A continual 
 sound of munching and the crying of a great quantity of 
 moor birds accompanied our progress, which the deliberate 
 pace and perennial appetite of the cattle rendered weari- 
 somely slow. In the midst my two conductors marched in 
 a contented silence that I could not but admire. The more 
 I looked at them, the more I was impressed by their ab- 
 surd resemblance to each other. They were dressed in the 
 same coarse homespun, carried similar sticks, were equally 
 begrimed about the nose with snuff, and each wound in an 
 identical plaid of what is called the shepherd's tartan. In a 
 back view they might be described as indistinguishable ; 
 and even from the front they were much alike. An in- 
 credible coincidence of humours augmented the impression. 
 Thrice and four times I attempted to pave the way for soma 
 exchange of thought, sentiment, or — at the least of it — 
 human words. An Ay or an Nlim was the sole return, and 
 the topic died on the hillside without echo. I can never 
 deny that I was chagrined ; and when, after a little more 
 walking, Sim turned towards me and offered me a ram's 
 horn of snuff, with the question '' Do ye use it ? " I an- 
 swered, with some animation, '' Faith, sir, I would use 
 pepper to introduce a little cordiality." But even this sally 
 failed to reach, or at least failed to soften, my companions. 
 At this rate we came to the summit of a ridge, and saw
 
 THE DEOVERS 97 
 
 the track descend in front of us abruptly into a desert 
 vale, about a league in length, and closed at the farther 
 end by no less barren hilltops. Upon this point of vantage 
 Sim came to a halt, took off his hat, and mopped his brow. 
 
 *' Weel," he said, " here we're at the top o' Howden." 
 
 " The top o' Howden, sure eneuch," said Candlish. 
 
 " Mr. St. Ivy, are ye dry ? " said the first. 
 
 ''Now, really," said I, "is not this Satan reproving 
 sin?" 
 
 "What ails ye, man?" said he. " Fm offer in' ye a 
 dram." 
 
 " 0, if it be anything to drink," said I, " I am as dry 
 as my neighbours." 
 
 Whereupon Sim produced from the corner of his plaid 
 a black bottle, and we all drank and pledged each other. 
 I found these gentlemen followed upon such occasions an 
 invariable etiquette, which you may be certain I made 
 haste to imitate. Each wiped his mouth with the back 
 of his left hand, held up the bottle in his right, remarked 
 with emphasis, " Here's to ye ! " and swallowed as much 
 of the spirit as his fancy prompted. This little ceremony, 
 which was the nearest thing to manners I could perceive 
 in either of my companions, was repeated at becoming in- 
 tervals, generally after an ascent. Occasionally we shared 
 a mouthful of ewe-railk cheese and an inglorious form of 
 bread, which I understood (but am far from engaging my 
 honour on the point) to be called " shearer's bannock." 
 And that may be said to have concluded our whole active 
 intercourse for the first day. 
 
 I had the more occasion to remark the extraordinarily 
 desolate nature of that country, through which the drove 
 road continued, hour after hour and even day after day, 
 to wind. A continual succession of insignificant shaggy 
 hills, divided by ihe course of ten thousand brooks, 
 
 7
 
 98 ST. IVES 
 
 throngli which we had to wade, or by the side of which 
 we encamped at uight ; infinite perspectives of heatlier, 
 infinite quantities of moorfowl ; here and there, by a 
 stream side, small and pretty clumps of willows or the 
 silver birch ; here and there, the ruins of ancient and in- 
 considerable fortresses — made the unchanging characters 
 of the scene. Occasionally, but only in the distance, we 
 could perceive the smoke of a small town or of an isolated 
 farmhouse or cottage on the moors ; more often, a flock 
 of sheep and its attendant shepherd, or a rude field of 
 agriculture perhaps not yet harvested. With these allevia- 
 tions, we might almost be said to pass through an un-. 
 broken desert — sure, one of the most impoverished in 
 Europe ; and when I recalled to mind that we were yet 
 but a few leagues from the chief city (where the law courts 
 sat every day with a press of business, soldiers garrisoned 
 the castle, and men of admitted parts were carrying on the 
 practice of letters and the investigations of science), it 
 gave me a singular view of that poor, barren, and yet illus- 
 trious country through which I travelled. Still more, 
 perhaps, did it commend the wisdom of Miss Gilchrist in 
 sending me with these uncouth companions and by this 
 nnfrequented path. 
 
 My itinerary is by no means clear to me ; the names 
 and distances I never clearly knew, and have now wholly 
 forgotten ; and this is the more to be regretted as there 
 is no doubt that, in the course of those days, I must have 
 passed and camped among sites which have been rendered 
 illustrious by the pen of Walter Scott. Nay, more, I am 
 of opinion that I was still more favoured by fortune, and 
 have actually met and spoken with that inimitable author. 
 Our encounter was of a tall, stoutish, elderly gentleman, 
 a little grizzled, and of a rugged but cheerful and engaging 
 countenance. He sat on a hill pony, wrapped in a plaid
 
 THE DROVERS 99 
 
 over his green coat, and was accompanied by a horsewoman, 
 his daughter, a young lady of the most charming ap- 
 pearance. They overtook us on a stretch of heath, reined 
 up as they came alongside, and accompanied us for per- 
 haps a quarter of an hour before they gallojDed off again 
 across the hillsides to our left. Great was my amazement 
 to find the unconquerable Mr. Sim thaw immediately on 
 the accost of this strange gentleman, who hailed him with 
 a ready familiarity, proceeded at once to discuss with him 
 the trade of droving and the prices of cattle, and did not 
 disdain to take a pinch from the inevitable ram's horn. 
 Presently I was aware that the stranger's eye was directed 
 on myself ; and there ensued a conversation, some of which 
 I could not help overhearing at the time, and the rest have 
 pieced together more or less plausibly from the report of 
 Sim. 
 
 " Surely that must be an amateur drover ye have gotten 
 there ? " the gentleman seems to have asked. 
 
 Sim replied, I was a young gentleman that had a reason 
 of his own to travel privately. 
 
 " Well, well, ye must tell me nothing of that. I am in 
 law, you know, and tace is the Latin for a candle," an- 
 Bwered the gentleman. " But I hope it's nothing bad." 
 
 Sim told him it was no more than debt. 
 
 " 0, Lord, if that be all ! " cried the gentleman ; and, 
 turning to myself, '' AVell, sir," he added, " I understand 
 you are taking a tramp through our forest here for the 
 pleasure of the thing ? " 
 
 ''Why, yes, sir," said I; ''and I must say I am very 
 well entertained." 
 
 " I envy you," said he. " I have jogged many miles of 
 it myself when I was younger. My youth lies buried 
 about here under every heather-bush, like the soul of the 
 licentiate Lucius. But yon should have a guide. The
 
 100 ST. IVES 
 
 pleasure of this country is much in tlie legends, which 
 grow as plentiful as blackberries." And directing my at- 
 tention to a little fragment of a broken wall no greater 
 than a tombstone, he told me, for an example, a story of 
 its earlier inhabitants. Years after it chanced that I was 
 one day diverting myself with a Waverley Novel, when 
 what should I come upon but the identical narrative of my 
 green-coated gentleman upon the moors ! In a moment 
 the scene, the tones of his voice, his northern accent, and 
 the very aspect of the earth and sky and temperature of 
 the weather, flashed back into my mind with the reality of 
 dreams. The unknown in the green coat had been the 
 Great Unknown ! I had met Scott ; I had heard a story 
 from his lips ; I should have been able to write, to claim 
 acquaintance, to tell him that his legend still tingled in 
 my ears. But the discovery came too late, and the great 
 man had already succumbed under the load of his honours 
 and misfortunes. 
 
 Presently, after giving us a cigar apiece, Scott bade us 
 farewell and disappeared with his daughter over the hills. 
 And when I applied to Sim for information, his answer of 
 *' The Shirra, man ! A^body kens the Shirra ! " told me, 
 unfortunately, nothing. 
 
 A more considerable adventure falls to be related. We 
 were now near the border. "We had travelled for long 
 upon the track beaten and browsed by a million herds, our 
 predecessors, and had seen no vestige of that traffic which 
 had created it. It was early in the morning when we at 
 last perceived, drawing near to the drove road, but still at 
 the distance of about half a league, a second caravan, simi- 
 lar to but larger than our own. The liveliest excitement 
 was at once exhibited by both my comrades. They 
 climbed hillocks, they studied the approaching drove from 
 under their hand, they consulted each other with an ap-
 
 THE DROVERS 101 
 
 pearance of alarm that seemed to me extraordinary. 1 had 
 learned by this time that their stand-off manners implied, 
 at least, no active enmity ; and I made bold to ask them 
 what was wrong. 
 
 " Bad yins," was Sim's emphatic answer. 
 
 All day the dogs were kept unsparingly on the alert, and 
 the drove pushed forward at a very unusual and seemingly 
 unwelcome speed. All day Sim and Candlish, with a more 
 than ordinary expenditure both of snuff and of words, con- 
 tinued to debate the position. It seems that they had rec- 
 ognised two of our neighbours on the road — one Faa, and 
 another by the name of Gillies. Whether there was an 
 old feud between them still unsettled I could never learn ; 
 but Sim and Candlish were prepared for every degree of 
 fraud or violence at their hands. Candlish repeatedly con^ 
 gratulated himself on having left " the watch at home with 
 the mistress " ; and Sim perpetually brandished his cudgel, 
 and cursed his ill-fortune that it should be sprung. 
 
 " I wilna care a damn to gie the daashed scoon'rel a fair 
 clout wi' it," he said. " The daashed thing micht come 
 sindry in ma hand." 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," said I, " suppose they do come on, 
 I think we can give a very good account of them." And I 
 made my piece of holly, Konald's gift, the value of which 
 I now appreciated, sing about my head. 
 
 *' Ay, man ? Are ye stench ? " inquired Sim, with a 
 gleam of approval in his wooden countenance. 
 
 The same evening, somewhat wearied with our day-long 
 expedition, we encamped on a little verdant mound, from 
 the midst of which there welled a spring of clear water 
 scarce great enough to wash the hands in. We had 
 made our meal and lain down, but were not yet asleep, 
 when a growl from one of the collies set us on the alert. 
 All three sat up, and on a second impulse all lay down
 
 102 ST. IVES 
 
 again, but now with our cudgels ready. A man must be an 
 alien and an outlaw, an old soldier and a young man in the 
 bargain, to take adventure easily. With no idea as to the 
 rights of the quarrel or the probable consequences of the 
 encounter, I was as ready to take part with my two dro- 
 vers, as ever to fall in line on the morning of a battle. 
 Presently there leaped three men out of the heather ; we 
 had scarce time to get to our feet before we were assailed ; 
 and in a moment each one of us was engaged with an ad- 
 versary Avhom the deepening twilight scarce permitted him 
 to see. How the battle sped in other quarters I am in no 
 position to describe. The rogue that fell to my share was 
 exceedingly agile and expert with his wea23on ; had and 
 held me at a disadvantage from the first assault ; forced me 
 to give ground continually, and at last, in mere self-de- 
 fence, to let him have the j)oint. It struck him in the 
 throat, and he went down like a ninepin and moved no 
 more. 
 
 It seemed this was the signal for the engagement to be 
 discontinued. The other combatants separated at once ; 
 our foes were suffered, without molestation, to lift up and 
 bear away their fallen comrade ; so that I perceived this 
 sort of war to be not wholly without laws of chivalry, and 
 perhaps rather to partake of the character of a tournament 
 than of a battle a outrance. There was no doubt, at least, 
 that I was supposed to have pushed the affair too seriously. 
 Our friends the enemy removed their wounded companion 
 with undisguised consternation ; and they were no sooner 
 over the top of the brae, than Sim and Candlish roused up 
 their wearied drove and set forth on a night march. 
 
 "Fm thinking Faa's unco bad," said the one. 
 
 "Ay," said the other, " he lookit dooms gash/* 
 
 *' He did that," said the first. 
 
 And their weary silence fell upon them again.
 
 'tH6 rogue that fell to mt shake was exceepinglt agile.
 
 THE DROVER& 103 
 
 Presently Sim turned to me. " Ye're unco ready with 
 the stick," said he. 
 
 " Too ready, I^m afraid/' said I. " I am afraid Mr. Faa 
 (if that be his name) has got his grnel." 
 
 " "Weel, I wouldnae wonder," replied Sim. 
 
 " And what is likely to happen VI inquired. 
 
 " Aweel," said Sim, snuffing profoundly, " if I were to 
 offer an opeenion, it would not be conscientious. For the 
 plain fac' is, Mr. St. Ivy, that I div not ken. We have had 
 crackit heids — and rowth of them — ere now ; and we have 
 had a broken leg or maybe twa ; and the like of that we 
 drover bodies make a kind of a practice like to keep among 
 oursel's. But a corp we have none of us ever had to deal 
 with, and I could set nae leemit to what Gillies micht con- 
 sider proper in the affaii*. Forbye that, he would be in 
 raither a hobble himsel', if he was to ga^ng hame wantin' 
 Faa. Folk are awf u' throng with their questions, and par- 
 teecularly when they're no wantit." 
 
 " That's a fac'," said Candlish. 
 
 I considered this prospect ruefully ; and then, making 
 the best of it, " Upon all which accounts," said I, '' the 
 best will be to get across the border and there separate. 
 If you are troubled, you can very truly put the blame upon 
 your late companion ; and if I am pursued, I must just try 
 to keep out of the way." 
 
 '* Mr. St. Ivy," said Sim, with something resembling en- 
 thusiasm, " no a word mair ! I have met in wi'mony kinds 
 o' gentry ere now ; I hae seen o' them that was the tae 
 thing, and I hae seen o' them that was the tither ; but the 
 wale of a gentleman like you I have no sae very frequently 
 seen the bate of." 
 
 Our night march was accordingly pursued with unremit- 
 ting diligence. The stars paled, the east whitened, and 
 we were still, both dogs and men, toiling after the wearied
 
 104 ST. IVES 
 
 cattle. Again and again Sim and Candlish lamented the 
 necessity : it was '' fair ruin on the bestial," they declared ; 
 but the thought of a judge and a scaffold hunted them 
 ever forward. I myself was not so much to be pitied. All 
 that night, and during the whole of the little that remained 
 before us of our conjunct journey, I enjoyed a new pleas- 
 ure, the reward of my prowess, in the now loosened tongue 
 of Mr. Sim. Candlish was still obdurately taciturn : it 
 was the man's nature ; but Sim, having finally appraised 
 and approved me, displayed without reticence a rather 
 garrulous habit of mind and a pretty talent for narration. 
 The pair were old and close companions, co-existing in 
 these endless moors in a brotherhood of silence such as I 
 have heard attributed to the trappers of the west. It seems 
 absurd to mention love in connection with so ugly and 
 snuffy a couple ; at least, their trust was absolute ; and 
 they entertained a surprising admiration for each 'other's 
 qualities ; Candlish exclaiming that Sim was "grand com- 
 pany ! " and Sim frequently assuring me in an aside that 
 for " a rale, auld, stench bitch, there was nae the bate of 
 Candlish in braid Scotland." The two dogs appeared to be 
 entirely included in this family compact, and I remarked 
 that their exploits and traits of character were constantly 
 and minutely observed by the two masters. Dog stories 
 particularly abounded with them ; and not only the dogs 
 of the present but those of the past contributed their 
 quota. " But that was naething," Sim would begin : 
 " there was a herd in Manar, they ca'd him Tweedie — ye'll 
 mind Tweedie, Can'lish?" ''Fine, that!" said Candlish. 
 " Aweel, Tweedie had a dog " The story I have for- 
 gotten ; I daresay it was dull, and I suspect it was not 
 true ; but indeed, my travels with the drovers had ren- 
 dered me indulgent, and perhaps even credulous, in the 
 matter of dog stories. Beautiful, indefatigable beings I as I
 
 THE DllOVERS 105 
 
 saw them at the end of a long day's journey frisking, bark- 
 ing, bounding, striking attitudes, slanting a bushy tail, 
 manifestly playing to the spectator's eye, manifestly rejoic- 
 ing in their grace and beauty — and turned to observe Sim 
 and Candlish unornamentally plodding in the rear with 
 the plaids about their bowed shoulders and the drop at 
 their snuffy nose — I thought I would rather claim kinship 
 with the dogs than with the men ! My sympathy was un- 
 returned ; in their eyes I was a creature light as air ; and 
 they would scarce spare me the time for a perfunctory 
 caress or perhaps a hasty lap of the wet tongue, ere they 
 were back again in sedulous attendance on those dingy 
 deities, their masters — and their masters, as like as not, 
 damning their stupidity. 
 
 Altogether the last hours of our tramp were infinitely 
 the most agreeable to me, and I believe to all of us ; and 
 by the time we came to separate, there had grown up a 
 certain familiarity and mutual esteem that made the part- 
 ing harder. It took place about four of the afternoon on 
 a bare hillside from which I could see the ribbon of the 
 great north road, henceforth to be my conductor. I asked 
 what was to pay. 
 
 " Naething," rejDlied Sim. 
 
 "What in the name of folly is this?" I exclaimed. 
 " You have led me, you have fed me, you have filled me 
 full of whisky, and now you will take nothing ! " 
 
 " Ye see we indentit for that," replied Sim. 
 
 " Indented ? " I repeated ; " what does the man 
 mean ? " 
 
 " Mr. St. Ivy," said Sim, " this is a maitter entirely be- 
 tween Candlish and me and the auld wife, Gilchrist. You 
 had naething to say to it ; weel, ye can have naething to 
 do with it, then." 
 
 " My good man," said I, "I can allow myself to be
 
 106 8T. IVES 
 
 placed in no such ridicnlons position. Mrs. Gilchrist is 
 nothing to me, and I refuse to be her debtor." 
 
 *' I dinna exac'ly see what way ye're gaun to help it," 
 observed my drover. 
 
 " By paying you here and now/* said I. 
 
 ** Tliere's aye twa to a bargain, Mr. St. Ivy," said he. 
 
 *' Yon mean that you will not take it ? " said I. 
 
 ** There or thereabout," said he. " Forbye, that it 
 would set ye a heap better to keep your siller for them you 
 awe it to. Ye're young, Mr. St. Ivy, and thoughtless ; 
 but it's my belief that, wi' care and circumspection, ye may 
 yet do credit to yoursel*. But just you bear this in mind : 
 that him that atves siller should never gie siller." 
 
 Well, what was there to say ? I accepted his rebuke, 
 and bidding the pair farewell, set off alone upon my south- 
 ward way. 
 
 ** Mr. St. Ivy," was the last word of Sim, " I was never 
 muckle ta'en up in Englishry ; but I think that I really 
 ought to say that ye seem to me to have the makings of 
 quite a dacent lad/'
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE GREAT NORTH ROAD 
 
 It chanced that as I went down the hill these last words 
 of my friend the drover echoed not unfrnitfnlly in my 
 head. I had never told these men the least particulars as 
 to my race or fortune, as it was a part, and the best part, 
 of their civility to ask no questions : yet they had dubbed 
 me without hesitation English. Some strangeness in the 
 accent they had doubtless thus explained. And it occurred 
 to me, that if I could pass in Scotland for an Englishman, 
 I might be able to reverse the process and pass in England 
 for a Scot. I thought, if I was pushed to it, I could make 
 a struggle to imitate the brogue ; after my experience with 
 Candlish and Sim, I had a rich provision of outlandish 
 words at my command ; and I felt I could tell the tale of 
 Tweedie's dog so as to deceive a native. At the same time, 
 I was afraid my name of St. Ives was scarcely suitable ; till 
 I remembered there was a town so called in the province 
 of Cornwall, thought I might yet be glad to claim it for my 
 place of origin, and decided for a Cornish family and a 
 Scots education. For a trade, as I was equally ignorant 
 of all, and as the most innocent might at any moment be 
 the means of my exposure, it was best to pretend to none. 
 And I dubbed myself a young gentleman of a suflBcient 
 fortune and an idle, curious habit of mind, rambling the 
 country at my own charges, in quest of health, informa* 
 tion, and merry adventures. 
 
 3Q7
 
 108 ST. IVES 
 
 At Newcastle, which was the first town I reached, I com- 
 pleted my preparations for the part, before going to the 
 inn, by the purchase of a knapsack and a pair of leathern 
 gaiters. My plaid I continued to wear from sentiment. It 
 was warm, useful to sleep in if I were again benighted, 
 and I had discovered it to be not unbecoming for a man of 
 gallant carriage. Thus equipped, I supported my charac- 
 ter of the light-hearted pedestrian not amiss. Surprise 
 was indeed expressed that I should have selected such a 
 season of the year ; but I pleaded some delays of business, 
 and smilingly claimed to be an eccentric. The devil was 
 in it, I would say, if any season of the year was not good 
 enough for me ; I was not made of sugar, I was no molly- 
 coddle to be afraid of an ill-aired bed or a sprinkle of snow ; 
 and I would knock upon the table with my fist and call for 
 t'other bottle, like the noisy and free-hearted young gentle- 
 man I was. It was my policy (if I may so express myself) 
 to talk much and say little. At the inn tables, the coun- 
 try, the state of the roads, the business interest of those 
 who sat down with me, and the course of public events, 
 afforded me a considerable field in which I might discourse 
 at large and still communicate no information about my- 
 self. There was no one with less air of reticence ; I plunged 
 into my company up to the neck ; and I had a long cock- 
 and-bull story of an aunt of mine which must have con- 
 vinced the most suspicious of my innocence. ** What I " 
 they would have said, " that young ass to be concealing 
 anything ! Why, he has deafened me with an aunt of his 
 until my head aches. He only wants you should give him 
 a line, and he would tell you his whole descent from Adam 
 downward, and his whole private fortune to the last shil- 
 ling.'* A responsible solid fellow was even so much moved 
 by pity for my inexperience as to give me a word or two of 
 good advice : that I was but a young man after all — I had
 
 THE GREAT NORTH ROAD 109 
 
 at this time a deceptive air of youth that made me easily 
 pass for one-and-twenty, and was, in the circumstances, 
 worth a fortune — that the company at inns was very min- 
 gled, that I should do well to be more careful, and the 
 like ; to all which I made answer that I meant no harm 
 myself and expected none from others, or the devil was in 
 
 it. " You are one of those d d prudent fellows that I 
 
 could never abide with,'^ said L " You are the kind of 
 man that has a long head. That's all the world, my dear 
 sir : the long-heads and the short-horns ! Now, I am a 
 short-horn." '' I doubt," says he, "that you will not go 
 very far without getting sheared." I offered to bet with 
 him on that, and he made off, shaking his head. 
 
 But my particular delight was to enlarge on politics and 
 the war. None damned the French like me ; none was 
 more bitter against the Americans. And when the north- 
 bound mail arrived, crowned with holly, and the coachman 
 and guard hoarse with shouting victory, I went even so far 
 as to entertain the company to a bowl of punch, which I 
 compounded myself with no illiberal hand, and doled out 
 to such sentiments as the following : — 
 
 " Our glorious victory on the Nivelle ! " " Lord Well- 
 ington, God bless him ! and may victory ever attend upon 
 his arms ! " and, " Soult, poor devil ! and may he catch it 
 again to the same tune ! " 
 
 Never was oratory more applauded to the echo — never 
 any one was more of the popular man than I. I promise 
 you, we made a night of it. Some of the company sup- 
 ported each other,' with the assistance of boots, to their 
 respective bed-chambers, while the rest slept on the field 
 of glory where we had left them ; and at the breakfast 
 table the next morning there was an extraordinary assem- 
 blage of red eyes and shaking fists. I observed patriotism 
 to burn much lower by daylight. Let no one blame me
 
 110 ST. IVES 
 
 for insensibility to the reverses of France ! God knows 
 how my heart raged. How I longed to fall on that herd 
 of swine and knock their heads together in the moment of 
 their revelry ! But you are to consider my own situation 
 and its necessities ; also a certain lightheartedness, emi- 
 nently Gallic, which forms a leading trait in my character, 
 and leads me to throw myself into new circumstances with 
 the spirit of a schoolboy. It is possible that I sometimes 
 allowed this impish humour to carry me further than good 
 taste approves ; and I was certainly punished for it once. 
 
 This was in the episcopal city of Durham. We sat down, a 
 considerable company, to dinner, most of us fine old vatted 
 English tories of that class which is often so enthusiastic as 
 to be inarticulate. I took and held the lead from the be- 
 ginning ; and, the talk having turned on the French in 
 the Peninsula, I gave them authentic details (on the author- 
 ity of a cousin of mine, an ensign) of certain cannibal 
 orgies in Galicia, in which no less a person than General 
 Caffarelli had taken a part. I always disliked that com- 
 mander, who once ordered me under arrest for insubordi- 
 nation ; and it is possible that a spice of vengeance added 
 to the rigour of my picture. I have forgotten the details ; 
 no doubt they were high-coloured. No doubt I rejoiced to 
 fool these jolter-heads ; and no doubt the sense of security 
 that I drank from their dull, gasping faces encouraged me 
 to proceed extremely far. And for my sins, there was one 
 silent little man at table Avho took my story at the true 
 value. It was from no sense of humour, to which he was 
 quite dead. It was from no particular intelligence, for he 
 had not any. The bond of sympathy, of all things in the 
 world, had rendered -him clairvoyant. 
 
 Dinner was no sooner done than I strolled forth into the 
 streets with some design of viewing the cathedral ; and the 
 little man was silently at my heels. A few doors from the
 
 THE GREAT NORTH ROAD 111 
 
 inn, in a dark place of the street, I was aware of a touch on 
 my arm, turned suddenly, and found him looking up at 
 me with eyes pathetically bright. 
 
 ■' I beg your pardon, sir ; but that story of yours was 
 particularly rich. He — he ! Particularly racy," said he. 
 °' I tell you, sir, I took you wholly ! I smohed you ! I be- 
 lieve you and I, sir, if we had a chance to talk, would find 
 we had a good many opinions in common. Here is the ' Blue 
 Bell,' a very comfortable place. They draw good ale, sir. 
 Would you be so condescending as to share a pot with me?" 
 
 There was something so ambiguous and secret in the 
 little man's perpetual signalling, that I confess my curiosity 
 was much aroused. Blaming myself, even as I did so, for 
 the indiscretion, I embraced his proposal, and we were soon 
 face to face over a tankard of mulled ale. He lowered his 
 voice to the least attenuation of a whisper. 
 
 ''Here, sir," said he, " is to the Great Man. I think you 
 take me ? No ? " He leaned forward till our noses almost 
 touched. " Here is to the Emperor ! " said he. 
 
 I was extremely embarrassed, and, in spite of the creat- 
 ure's innocent appearance, more than half alarmed. I 
 thought him too ingenuous, and, indeed, too daring for a 
 spy. Yet if he were honest he must be a man of extra- 
 ordinary indiscretion, and therefore very unfit to be en- 
 couraged by an escaped prisoner. I took a half course, 
 accordingly — accepted his toast in silence, and drank it 
 without enthusiasm. 
 
 He proceeded to abound in the praises of Napoleon, such 
 as I had never heard in France, or at least only on the lips 
 of officials paid to offer them. 
 
 " And this Caffarelli, now," he pursued : " he is a splen- 
 did fellow, too, is he not ? I have not heard vastly much 
 of him myself. No details, sir — no details ! We labour 
 under huge difficulties here as to unbiassed information."
 
 112 ST. IVES 
 
 **I believe I have heard the same complaint in other coun- 
 tries/' I could not help remarking. " But as to Caffarelli, 
 he is neither lame nor blind, he has two legs, and a nose 
 in the middle of his face. And I care as much about him 
 as you care for the dead body of Mr. Perceval ! " 
 
 He studied me with glowing eyes. 
 
 " You cannot deceive me ! " he cried. " You have 
 served under him. You are a Frenchman ! I hold by the 
 hand, at last, one of that noble race, the pioneers of the 
 glorious principles of liberty and brotherhood. Hush ! 
 No, it is all right. I thought there had been somebody at 
 the door. In this wretched, enslaved country we dare not 
 even call our souls our own. The spy and the hangman, 
 sir — the spy and the hangman ! And yet there is a candle 
 burning, too. The good leaven is working, sir — working 
 underneath. Even in this town there are a few brave 
 spirits, who meet every Wednesday. You must stay over 
 a day or so, and join us. We do not use this house. An- 
 other, and a quieter. They draw fine ale, however — fair, 
 mild ale. You will find yourself among friends, among 
 brothers. You will hear some very daring sentiments ex- 
 pressed ! " he cried, expanding his small chest. " Mon- 
 archy, Christianity — all the trappings of a bloated past — 
 the Free Confraternity of Durham and Tyneside deride." 
 
 Here was a devil of a prospect for a gentleman whose 
 whole design was to avoid observation ! The Free Con- 
 fraternity had no charms for me ; daring sentiments were 
 no part of my baggage ; and I tried, instead, a little cold 
 water. 
 
 *' You seem to forget, sir, that my Emperor has re-estab- 
 lished Christianity," I observed. 
 
 "Ah, sir, but that was policy I " he exclaimed. "You 
 do not understand Napoleon. I have followed his whole 
 career. I can explain his policy from first to last. Now
 
 THE GREAT NORTH ROAD 113 
 
 for instance in the Peninsula, on which yon were so very 
 amnsing, if you will come to a friend's house who has a 
 map of Spain, I can make the whole course of the war 
 quite clear to you, I venture to say, in half an hour." 
 
 This was intolerable. Of the two extremes, I found I 
 preferred the British tory ; and, making an appointment 
 for the morrow, I pleaded sudden headache, escaped to the 
 inn, packed my knapsack, and fled, about nine at night, 
 from this accursed neighbourhood. It was cold, starry, and 
 clear, and the road dry, with a touch of frost. For all that, 
 I had not the smallest intention to make a long stage of it ; 
 and about ten o'clock, spying on the right-hand side of the 
 way the lighted windows of an alehouse, I determined to 
 bait there for the night. 
 
 It was against my principle, which was to frequent only 
 the dearest inns ; and the misadventure that befell me was 
 sufficient to make me more particular in the future. A 
 large company was assembled in the parlour, which was 
 heavy with clouds of tobacco smoke and brightly lighted 
 up by a roaring fire of coal. Hard by the chimney stood a 
 vacant chair in what I thought an enviable situation, 
 whether for warmth or the pleasures of society ; and I was 
 about to take it, when the nearest of the company stopped 
 me with his hand. 
 
 ^' Beg thy pardon, sir," said he ; "but that th^re chair 
 belongs to a British soldier," 
 
 A chorus of voices enforced and explained. It was one 
 of Lord "Wellington's heroes. He had been wounded un- 
 der Eowland Hill. He was Colburne's right-hand man. 
 In short, this favoured individual appeared to have served 
 with every separate corps and under every individual gen- 
 eral in the Peninsula. Of course I apologised. I had not 
 known. The devil was in it if a soldier had not a right to 
 the best in England. And with that sentiment, which was 
 8
 
 114 ST. IVES 
 
 loudly applauded, I found a corner of a bench, and 
 awaited, with some hoj^es of entertainment, the return of 
 the hero, lie proved, of course, to be a private soldier. I 
 say of course, because no officer could possibly enjoy such 
 heights of popularity. He had been wounded before San 
 Sebastian, and still wore his arm in a sling. What was a 
 great deal worse for him, every member of the comj^any 
 had been plying him with drink. His honest yokel's 
 countenance blazed as if with fever, his eyes were glazed 
 and looked the two ways, and his feet stumbled as, amidst 
 a murmur of applause, he returned to the midst of his 
 admirers. 
 
 Two minutes afterwards I was again posting in the dark 
 along the highway ; to explain which sudden movement of 
 retreat I must trouble the reader with a reminiscence of my 
 services. 
 
 I lay one night with the out-pickets in Castile. We 
 were in close touch Avith the enemy ; the usual orders had 
 been issued against smoking, fires, and talk, and both 
 armies lay as quiet as mice, when I saw the English senti- 
 nel opposite making a signal by holding up his musket. 1 
 repeated it, and we both crept together in the dry bed of 
 a stream, which made the demarcation of the armies. It 
 was wine he wanted, of which we had a good provision, and 
 the English had quite run out. He gave me the money, 
 and I, as was the custom, left him my firelock in pledge, 
 and set off for the canteen. When 1 returned with a skin 
 of wine, behold, it had pleased some uneasy devil of an 
 English officer to withdraw the outposts ! Here was a 
 situation with a vengeance, and I looked for nothing but 
 ridicule in the present and punishment in the future. 
 Doubtless our officers winked pretty hard at this inter- 
 change of courtesies, but doubtless it would be impossible 
 to wink at so gross a fault, or rather so pitiable a misad-
 
 THE GREAT NORTH ROAD 115 
 
 venture as mine ; and yoa are to conceive me wandering 
 in the plains of Castile, benighted, charged with a wine- 
 skin for which I had no use, and with no knowledge what- 
 ever of the whereabouts of my musket beyond that it was 
 somewhere in my Lord Wellington's army. But my Eng- 
 lishman was either a very honest fellow, or else extremely 
 thirsty, and at last contrived to advertise me of his new 
 position. Now, the English sentry in Castile and the 
 wounded hero in the Durham public-house were one and 
 the same person ; and if he had been a little less drunk, or 
 myself less lively in getting away, the travels of M. St. Ives 
 might have come to an untimely end. 
 
 I suppose this woke me up ; it stirred in me besides a 
 spirit of opposition, and in spite of cold, darkness, the 
 highwaymen and the footpads, I determined to walk right 
 on until breakfast-time : a happy resolution, which enabled 
 me to observe one of those traits of manners which at once 
 depict a country and condemn it. It was near midnight 
 when I saw, a great way ahead of me, the light of many 
 torches ; presently after, the sound of wheels reached me 
 and the slow tread of feet, and soon I had joined myself to 
 the rear of a sordid, silent, and lugubrious processiou, such 
 as we see in dreams. Close on a hundred persons marched 
 by torchlight in unbroken silence ; in their midst a cart, 
 and in the cart, on an inclined platform, the dead body of 
 a man — the centre-piece of this solemnity, the hero whose 
 obsequies we were come forth at this unusual hour to cele- 
 brate. It was but a plain, dingy old fellow of fifty or 
 sixty, his throat cut, his shirt turned over as though to 
 show the wound. Blue trousers and brown socks com- 
 pleted his attire, if we can talk so of the dead. He had a 
 horrid look of a waxwork. In the tossing of the lights he 
 seemed to make faces and mouths at us, to frown, and to 
 be at times upon the point o"* speech. The cart, with this
 
 116 ST. IVES 
 
 shabby and tragic freight, and snrroiinded by its silent esv 
 cort and bright torches, continued for some distance to 
 creak along the high road, and I to follow it in amazement, 
 which was soon exchanged for horror. At the corner of 
 a lane the procession stopped, and as the torches ranged 
 themselves along the hedgerow-side, I became aware of a 
 grave dag in the midst of the thoroughfare, and a provi- 
 sion of quicklime piled in the ditch. The cart was backed 
 to the margin, the body slung off the platform and dumped 
 into the grave with an irreverent roughness. A sharpened 
 stake had hitherto served it for a pillow. It was now with- 
 drawn, held in its place by several volunteers, and a fellow 
 with a heavy mallet (the sound of which still haunts me at 
 night) drove it home through the bosom of the corpse. 
 The hole was filled with quicklime, and the bystanders, as 
 if relieved of some oppression, broke at once into a sound 
 of whispered speech. 
 
 ]\Iy shirt stuck to me, my heart had almost ceased beat- 
 ing, and I found my tongue with difficulty. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," I gasped to a neighbour^ '' what is 
 this ? what has he done ? is it allowed ?" 
 
 *' Why, where do yon come from ? " replied the man. 
 
 " I am a traveller, sir," said I, " and a total stranger in 
 this part of the country. I had lost my way when I saw 
 your torches, and came by chance on this — this incredible 
 scene. Who was the man ? " 
 
 ''A suicide," said he. ^'Ay, he was a bad one, was 
 Johnnie Green." 
 
 It appeared this was a wretch who had committed many 
 barbarous murders, and being at last upon the point of dis- 
 coverv fell of his own hand. And the nightmare at the 
 cross-roads was the regular punishment, according to the 
 laws of England, for an act Avliich the Romans honoured 
 as a virtue ! Whenever an Englishman begins to prate of
 
 THE GREAT NORTH ROAD 117 
 
 civilisation (as, indeed, it's a defect they are rather prone 
 to), I hear the measured blows of a mallet, see the bystand- 
 ers crowd with torches about the grave, smile a little to 
 myself in conscious superiority — and take a thimbleful of 
 brandy for the stomach's sake. 
 
 I believe it must have been at my next stage, for I 
 remember going to bed extremely early, that I came to the 
 model of a good old-fashioned English inn, and was at- 
 tended on by the picture of a pretty chambermaid. We 
 had a good many pleasant passages as she waited table or 
 warmed my bed for me with a devil of a brass warming- 
 pan, fully larger than herself ; and as she was no less pert 
 than she was pretty, she may be said to have given rather 
 better than she took. I cannot tell why (unless it were for 
 the sake of her saucy eyes), but I made her my confidante, 
 told her I was attached to a young lady in Scotland, and 
 received the encouragement of her sympathy, mingled and 
 connected with a fair amount of rustic wit. While I slept 
 the down-mail stopped for supper ; it chanced that one of 
 the passengers left behind a copy of the Edinburgh Cou- 
 rant, and the next morning my j)retty chambermaid set the 
 paper before me at breakfast, with the remark that there 
 was some news from my lady-love. I took it eagerly, hop- 
 ing to find some farther word of our escape, in which I was 
 disappointed ; and I was about to lay it down, when my 
 eye fell on a paragraph immediately concerning me. Faa 
 was in hospital, grievously sick, and warrants were out for 
 the arrest of Sim and Candlish. These two men had shown 
 themselves very loyal to me. This trouble emerging, the 
 least I could do was to be guided by a similar loyalty to 
 them. Suppose my visit to my uncle crowned with some 
 success, and my finances re-established, I determined I 
 should immediately return to Edinburgh, put their case in 
 the hands of a good lawyer, and await events. So my mind
 
 118 ST. IVES 
 
 was very lightly made np to wha-t proved a mighty seriona 
 matter. Candlish and Sim were all very well in their way, 
 and I do sincerely trust I should have been at some pains 
 to help them, had there been nothing else. But in truth 
 my eyes and my heart were set on quite another matter, 
 and I received the news of their tribulation almost with 
 joy. That is never a bad wind that blows where we want 
 to go, and you may be sure there was nothing unwelcome 
 in a circumstance that carried me back to Edinburgh and 
 Flora. From that hour I began to indulge myself with the 
 making of imaginary scenes and interviews, in which I con- 
 founded the aunt, flattered Ronald, and now in the witty, 
 now in the sentimental manner, declared my love and 
 received the assurance of its return. By means of this ex- 
 ercise my resolution daily grew stronger, until at last I had 
 piled together such a mass of obstinacy as it would have 
 taken a cataclysm of nature to subvert. 
 
 " Yes," said I to the chambermaid, " here is news of my 
 lady-love indeed, and very good news too." 
 
 All that day, in the teeth of a keen winter wind, I 
 hugged myself in my plaid, and it was as though her arms 
 were flung around me.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 I FOLLOW A COVERED CART NEARLY TO MY DESTINATION 
 
 At last I began to draw near, by reasonable stages, to 
 the neighbourhood of Wakefield ; and the name of Mr. 
 Burchell Fenn came to the top in my memory. This was 
 the gentleman (the reader may remember) who made a 
 trade of forwarding the escape of French prisoners. How 
 he did so : whether he had a signboard. Escapes for' 
 warded, apply within; what he charged for his services, 
 or whether they were gratuitous and charitable, were all 
 matters of which I was at once ignorant and extremely 
 curious. Thanks to my proficiency in English, and ilr. 
 Romaine's bank-notes, I was getting on swimmingly with- 
 out him ; but the trouble was that I could not be easy till 
 I had come at the bottom of these mysteries, and it was m.y 
 difficulty that I knew nothing of him beyond the name. 
 I knew not his trade — beyond that of Forwarder of Es- 
 capes — whether he lived in town or country, whether he 
 were rich or poor, nor by what kind of address I was to 
 gain his confidence. It would have a very bad appearance 
 to go along the highwayside asking after a man of whom I 
 could give so scanty an account ; and I should look like a 
 fool, indeed, if I were to present myself at his door and 
 find the police in occupation ! The interest of the conun- 
 drum, however, tempted me, and I turned aside from my 
 direct road to pass by Wakefield ; kept my ears pricked as 
 I went for any mention of his name, and relied for the rest 
 
 110
 
 120 ST. IVES 
 
 on my good fortune. If Luck (who must certainly be fem- 
 inine) favoured me as far as to throw me in the man's way, 
 I should owe the lady a candle ; if not, I could very readily 
 console myself. In this experimental humour, and with 
 BO little to help me, it was a miracle that I should Jiave 
 brought my enterprise to a good end ; and there are sev- 
 eral saints in the calendar who might be happy to exchange 
 with St. Ives ! 
 
 I had slept the night in a good inn at Wakefield, made 
 my breakfast by candle-light with the joassengers of an up- 
 coach, and set off in a very ill temper with myself and my 
 surroundings. It was still early ; the air raw and cold ; 
 the sun low, and soon to disappear under a vast canopy of 
 rain-clouds that had begun to assemble in the north-west, 
 and from that quarter invaded the whole width of the 
 heaven. Already the rain fell in crystal rods ; already the 
 whole face of the country sounded with the discharge of 
 drains and ditches ; and I looked forward to a day of down- 
 pour and the hell of wet clothes, in which particular I am 
 as dainty as a cat. At a corner of the road, and by the last 
 glint of the drowning sun, I spied a covered cart, of a kind 
 that I thought I had never seen before, preceding me at 
 the foot's pace of jaded horses. Anything is interesting to 
 a pedestrian that can help him to forget the miseries of a 
 day of rain ; and I bettered my pace and gradually over- 
 took the vehicle. 
 
 The nearer I came, the more it puzzled me. A was much 
 such a cart as I am told the calico printers use, mounted 
 on two wheels, and furnished with a seat in front for the 
 driver. The interior closed with a door, and was of a big- 
 ness to contain a good load of calico, or (at a pinch and if 
 it were necessary) four or five persons. But, indeed, if 
 human beings were meant to travel there, they had my 
 pity ! They must travel in the dark, for there was no
 
 I FOLLOW A COVERED CART 121 
 
 sign of a window ; and they would be shaken all the way 
 like a phial of doctor's stuff, for the cart was not only un- 
 gainly to look at — it was besides very imperfectly balanced 
 on the one pair of wheels, and pitched unconscionably. 
 Altogether, if I had any glancing idea that the cart was 
 really a carriage, I had soon dismissed it ; but I was still 
 inquisitive as to what it should contain, and where it had 
 come from. Wheels and horses were splashed with many 
 different colours of mud, as though they had come far and 
 across a considerable diversity of country. The driver con- 
 tinually and vainly plied his whip. It seemed to follow 
 they had made a long, perhaps an all-night, stage ; and 
 that the driver, at that early hour of a little after eight in 
 the morning, already felt himself belated. I looked for the 
 name of the proprietor on the shaft, and started outright. 
 Fortune had favoured the careless : it was Burchell Fenn ! 
 
 "A wet morning, my man," said I. 
 
 The driver, a loutish fellow, shock-headed and turnip- 
 faced, returned not a word to my salutation, but savagely 
 flogged his horses. The tired animals, who could scarce 
 put the one foot before the other, paid no attention to his 
 cruelty ; and I continued without effort to maintain my 
 position alongside, smiling to myself at the futility of his 
 attempts, and at the same time pricked with curiosity as 
 to why he made them. I made no such formidable a fig- 
 ure as that a man should flee when I accosted him ; and 
 my conscience not being entirely clear, I was more accus- 
 tomed to be uneasy myself than to see others timid. Pres- 
 ently ne desisted, and put back his whip in the holster with 
 the .'ir of a man vanquished, 
 
 " So you would run away from me ?'* said I. *' Come, 
 come, that's not English." 
 
 " Beg pardon, master : no offence meant," he said, touch- 
 ing his hat.
 
 122 ST. IVES 
 
 "And none taken !" cried I. ''All I desire is a little 
 gaiety by the way." 
 
 I understood him to say he didn't "take 'vvith gaiety." 
 
 " Then I will try yon with something else/' said I. " 0, 1 
 can be all things to all men, like the apostle ! I dare to 
 say I have travelled with heavier fellows than you in my 
 time, and done famously well with them. Are you going 
 home ? " 
 
 " Yes, I'm a goin' home, I am," he said. 
 
 "A very fortunate circumstance for me ! " said I. "At 
 this rate we shall see a good deal of each other, going the 
 same way ; and, now I come to think of it, why should you 
 not give me a cast ? There is room beside you on the 
 bench." 
 
 With a sudden snatch, he carried the cart two yards into 
 the roadway. The horses plunged and came to a stop. 
 *' No, you don't ! " he said, menacing me with the whip. 
 "None o' that with me." 
 
 " None of what ? " said I. " I asked you for a lift, but 
 I have no idea of taking one by force." 
 
 " Well, I've got to take care of the cart and 'orses, I 
 have," says he. " I don't take ujj with no runagate vaga- 
 bones, you see, else." 
 
 " I ought to thank you for your touching confidence,'* 
 said I, approaching carelessly nearer as I spoke. "But I 
 admit the road is solitary hereabouts, and no doubt an ac- 
 cident soon happens. Little fear of anything of the kind 
 with you ! I like you for it, like your prudence, like that 
 pastoral shyness of disposition. But why not put it out 
 of my power to hurt ? Why not open the door and bestow 
 me here in the box, or whatever you please to call it ? " 
 And I laid my hand demonstratively on the body of the 
 cart. 
 
 He had been timorous before ; but at this, he seemed to
 
 I FOLLOW A COVERED CART 123 
 
 lose tlie power of sijeech a moment, and stared at me in a 
 perfect enthusiasm of fear. 
 
 ''Why not?" I continued. "The idea is good. I 
 should be safe in there if I were the monster Williams 
 himself. The great thing is to have me under lock and 
 key. For it does lock ; it is locked now/' said I, trying the 
 door. " Apropos, what have you for a cargo ? It must be 
 precious." 
 
 He found not a word to answer. 
 
 Eat-tat-tat, I went upon the door like a well-di'illed 
 footman. "Any one at home?" I said, and stooped to 
 listen. 
 
 There came out of the interior a stifled sneeze, the first 
 of an uncontrollable paroxysm ; another followed imme- 
 diately on the heels of it ; and then the driver turned with 
 an oath, laid the lash upon the horses with so much energy 
 that they found their heels again, and the whole equipage 
 fled down the road at a gallop. 
 
 At the first sound of the sneeze, I had started back like a 
 man shot. The next moment, a great light broke on my 
 mind, and I understood. Here was the secret of Fenn's 
 trade : this was how he forwarded the escape of prisoners, 
 hawking them by night about the country in his covered 
 cart. There had been Frenchmen close to me ; he who had 
 just sneezed was my countryman, my comrade, perhaps 
 already my friend ! I took to my heels in pursuit. " Hold 
 hard ! " I shouted. " Stop ! It's all right ! Stop ! " But 
 the driver only turned a white face on me for a moment, 
 and redoubled his efforts, bending forward, plying his whip 
 and crying to his horses ; these lay themselves down to the 
 gallop and beat the highway with flying hoofs ; and the 
 cart bounded after them among the ruts and fled in a halo 
 of rain and spattering mud. But a minute since, and it 
 had been trundling along like a lame cow ; and now it was
 
 124 ST. IVES 
 
 off as though drawn by Apollo's conrsers. There is no 
 telling what a man can do, until you frighten him ! 
 
 It was as much as I could do myself, though I ran val- 
 iantly, to maintain my distance ; and that (since I knew 
 my countrymen so near) was become a chief point with me. 
 A hundred yards farther on the cart whipped out of the 
 high road into a lane embowered with leafless trees, and 
 became lost to view. "When I saw it next, the driver had 
 increased his advantage considerably, but all danger was 
 at an end, and the horses had again declined into a hob- 
 bling walk. Persuaded that they could not escape me, I 
 took my time, and recovered my breath as I followed 
 them. 
 
 Presently the lane twisted at right angles, and showed 
 me a gate and the beginning of a gravel sweep ; and a little 
 after, as I continued to advance, a red brick house about 
 seventy years old, in a fine style of architecture, and pre- 
 senting a front of many windows to a lawn and garden. 
 Behind, I could see outhouses and the peaked roofs of 
 stacks ; and I judged that a manor-house had in some way 
 declined to be the residence of a tenant-farmer, careless 
 alike of apjiearances and substantial comfort. The marks 
 of neglect were visible on every side, in flower-bushes strag- 
 gling beyond the borders, in the ill-kept turf, and in the 
 broken windows that were incongruously patched with 
 paper or stuffed with rags. A thicket of trees, mostly ever- 
 green, fenced the place round and secluded it from the 
 eyes of prying neighbours. As I came in view of it, on 
 that melancholy winter's morning, in the deluge of the 
 falling rain, and with the wind that now rose in occasional 
 gusts and hooted over the old chimneys, the cart had 
 already drawn up at the front door steps, and the driver 
 was already in earnest discourse with Mr. Burchell Fenn. 
 He was standing with his hands behind his back — a man of
 
 I FOLLOW A COVERED CART 125 
 
 a gross, misbegotten face and body, dewlapped like a bull 
 and red as a harvest moon ; and in his jockey cap, blue 
 coat and top boots, he had much the air of a good, solid 
 tenant-farmer. 
 
 The pair continued to speak as I came up the approach, 
 but received me at last in a sort of goggling silence. I had 
 my hat in my hand. 
 
 *'I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Burchell Fenn ?" 
 said I. 
 
 '' The same, sir," replied Mr. Fenn, taking off his Jockey 
 cap in answer to my civility, but with the distant look and 
 the tardy movements of one who continues to think of 
 something else. " And who may you be ? " he asked. 
 
 " I shall tell you afterwards," said I. '' Suffice it, in 
 the meantime, that I come on business." 
 
 He seemed to digest my answer laboriously, his mouth 
 gaping, his little eyes never straying from my face. 
 
 " Suffer me to point out to you, sir," I resumed, "that 
 this is a devil of a wet morning ; and that the chimney 
 corner, and possibly a glass of something hot, are clearly 
 indicated." 
 
 Indeed, the rain was now grown to be a deluge ; the gut- 
 ters of the house roared ; the air was filled with the con- 
 tinuous, strident crash. The stolidity of his face, on which 
 the rain streamed, was far from reassuring me. On the 
 contrary, I was aware of a distinct qualm of apprehension, 
 which was not at all lessened by a view of the driver, cran- 
 ing from his perch to observe us with the expression of a 
 fascinated bird. So we stood silent, when the prisoner 
 again began to sneeze from the body of the cart ; and ?/■ 
 the sound, prompt as a transformation, tbe driver liaa 
 whipped up his horses and was shambling off round the 
 corner of the house, and Mr. Fenn, recovering his wits 
 with a gulp, had turned to the door behind him.
 
 126 ST. IVES 
 
 *' Come in, come in, sir," he said. " I beg your pardon, 
 sir ; the lock goes a trifle hard/' 
 
 Indeed, it took him a surprising time to open the door, 
 which was not only locked on the outside, but the lock 
 seemed rebellious from disuse ; and when at last he stood 
 back and motioned me to enter before him, I was greeted 
 on the threshold by that peculiar and convincing sound of 
 the rain echoing over empty chambers. The entrance hall, 
 in which I now found m3^self, was of a good size and good 
 proportions ; potted plants occupied the corners ; the 
 paved floor was soiled with muddy footprints and encum- 
 bered with straw ; on a mahogany hall table, which was the 
 only furniture, a candle had been stuck and suffered to 
 burn down — plainly a long while ago, for the gutterings 
 were green with mould. My mind, under these new im- 
 pressions, worked with unusual vivacity. I was here shut 
 off with Fenn and his hireling in a deserted house, a neg- 
 lected garden, and a wood of evergreens : the most eligible 
 theatre for a deed of darkness. There came to me a vision 
 of two flags raised in the hall floor, and the driver putting 
 in the rainy afternoon over my grave, and the prospect 
 displeased me extremely. I felt I had carried my pleasantry 
 as far as was safe ; I must lose no time in declaring my 
 true character, and I was even choosing the words in which 
 I was to begin, when the hall door was slammed to behind 
 •me with a bang, and I turned, dropping my stick as I did 
 so, in time — and not any more than time — to save my life. 
 
 The surprise of the onslaught and the huge weight of 
 my assailant gave him the advantage. lie had a pistol in 
 his right hand of a portentous size, which it took me all 
 my strength to keep deflected. "With his left arm he 
 strained me to his bosom, so that I thought I must be 
 crushed or stifled. His moutli was open, his face crimson, 
 and he panted aloud with hard animal sounds. The affair
 
 I FOLLOW A COVERED CART 127 
 
 was as brief as it was hot and sudden. The potations which 
 had swelled and bloated his carcase had already weakened 
 the springs of energy. One more huge effort, that came 
 near to overpower me, and in which the pistol happily ex- 
 ploded, and I felt his grasp slacken and weakness come on 
 his joints ; his legs succumbed under his weight, and he 
 grovelled on his knees on the stone floor. " Spare me ! " 
 he gasjDed. 
 
 I had not only been abominably frightened ; I was 
 shocked besides : my delicacy was in arms, like a lady to 
 whom violence should have been offered by a similar mon- 
 ster. I plucked myself from his horrid contact, I snatched 
 the pistol — even discharged, it was a formidable weapon — 
 and menaced him with the butt. " Spare you ! " I cried : 
 ** you beast ! " 
 
 His voice died in his fat inwards, but his lips still vehe- 
 mently framed the same words of supplication. My anger 
 began to pass off, but not all my repugnance ; the picture 
 he made revolted me, and I was impatient to be spared the 
 further view of it. 
 
 " Here,^' said I, " stop this performance : it sickens me. 
 I am not going to kill you, do you hear ? I have need of 
 you.- 
 
 A look of relief, that I could almost have called beauti- 
 ful, dawned on his countenance. " Anything — anything 
 you wish," said he. 
 
 Anything is a big word, and his use of it brought me 
 for a moment to a stand. " Why, what do you mean ?" I 
 asked. *' Do you mean that you will blow the gaff on the 
 whole business ? " 
 
 He answered me Yes with eager asseverations. 
 
 " I know Monsieur de Saint- Yves is in it ; it was through 
 his papers we traced you," I said. " Do you consent to 
 make a clean breast of the others ? '*
 
 128 ST. IVES 
 
 *' I do — I will ! " he cried. " The 'ole crew of 'em ; 
 there's good names among 'em. I'll be king's evidence." 
 
 *' So that all shall hang except yourself ? You damned 
 villain ! " I broke out. " Understand at once that I am 
 no spy or thief -taker. I am a kinsman of Monsieur de 
 St. Yves — here in his interest. Upon my word, you have 
 put your foot in it prettily, Mr. Burchell Fenn 1 Come, 
 stand uj) ; don't grovel there. Stand up, you lump of 
 iniquity !" 
 
 lie scrambled to his feet. He was utterly unmanned, 
 •r it might have gone hard with me yet ; and I considered 
 him hesitating, as, indeed, there was cause. The man was 
 a double-dyed traitor : he had tried to murder me, and I 
 had first baffled his endeavours and then exposed and in- 
 sulted him. Was it wise to place myself any longer at his 
 mercy ? "With his help I should doubtless travel more 
 quickly ; doubtless also far less agreeably ; and there was 
 everything to show that it would be at a greater risk. In 
 short, I should have washed my hands of him on the spot, 
 but for tlie temptation of the French officers, whom I knew 
 to be so near, and for whose society I felt so great and nat- 
 ural an impatience. If I was to see anything of my coun- 
 trymen, it was clear I had first of all to make my peace 
 with Mr. Fenn ; and that was no easy matter. To make 
 friends with any one implies concessions on both sides : 
 and what could I concede ? What could I say of him, but 
 that he had proved himself a villain and a fool, and the 
 worse man ? 
 
 "Well," said I, ''here has been rather a poor piece of 
 business, which I daresay you can have no pleasure in call- 
 ing to mind ; and, to say truth, I would as readily forget 
 it myself. Suppose we try. Take back your pistol, which 
 smells very ill ; put it in your pocket or wherever yon had 
 it concealed. There ! Now let us meet for the first time.—
 
 I FOLLOW A COVERED CART 129 
 
 Give you good morning, Mr. Fenn I I hope you do very 
 well. I come on the recommendation of my kinsman, the 
 Vicomte de St. Yves." 
 
 " Do you mean it ?" he cried. ''Do you mean you will 
 pass over our little scrimmage ? " 
 
 "Why, certainly !" said I. "It shows you are a bold 
 fellow, who may be trusted to forget the business when it 
 comes to the point. There is nothing against you in the 
 little scrimmage, unless that your courage is greater than 
 your strength. You are not so young as you once were, 
 that is all." 
 
 " And I beg of you, sir, don't betray me to the Vis^ 
 count," he pleaded. " I'll not deny but what my 'eart 
 failed me a trifle ; but it was only a word, sir, what any- 
 body might have said in the 'eat of the moment, and over 
 with it." 
 
 " Certainly," said I. " That is quite my own opinion.'* 
 " The way I came to be anxious about the Vis-count," 
 he continued, " is that I believe he might be induced to 
 form an 'asty judgment. And the business, in a pecuniary 
 point of view, is all that I could ask ; only trying, sir — 
 very trying. It's making an old man of me before my time. 
 You might have observed yourself, sir, that I 'aven't got 
 the knees I once 'ad. The knees and the breathing, there's 
 where it takes me. But I'm very sure, sir, I address a gen- 
 tleman as would be the last to make trouble between 
 friends." 
 
 *'I am sure you do me no more than justice," said I; 
 " and I shall think it quite unnecessary to dwell on any of 
 these passing circumstances in my report to the Vicomte." 
 "Which you do favour him (if you'll excuse me being so 
 bold as to mention it) exac'ly ! " said he. " I should have 
 known you anywheres. May I offer you a pot of 'ome- 
 brewed ale, sir ? By your leave ! This way, if you please. 
 
 9
 
 130 ST. IVES 
 
 I am 'eartily grateful — 'eartily pleased to be of any service 
 to a gentleman like you, sir, which is related to the Vis- 
 count, and really a farably of which you might well be 
 proud ! Take care of the step, sir. You have good news 
 of 'is 'ealth, I trust ? as well as that of Monseer the Count ?'* 
 
 God forgive me ! the horrible fellow was still puffing and 
 panting with the fury of his assault, and already he had 
 fallen into an obsequious, wheedling familiarity like that 
 of an old servant, — already he was flattering me on my fam- 
 ily connections ! 
 
 I followed him through the house into the stable-yard, 
 where I observed the driver washing the cart in a shed. 
 He must have heard the explosion of the pistol. He could 
 not choose but hear it : the thing was shaped like a little 
 blunderbuss, charged to the mouth, and made a report like 
 a piece of field artillery. He had heard, he had paid no 
 attention ; and now, as we came forth by the back door, 
 he raised for a moment a pale and tell-tale face that was as 
 direct as a confession. The rascal had expected to see Fenn 
 come forth alone ; he was waiting to be called on for that 
 part of sexton, which I had already allotted to him in fancy. 
 
 I need not detain the reader very long with any descrip- 
 tion of my visit to the back-kitchen ; of how we mulled our 
 ale there, and mulled it very well ; nor of how we sat talk- 
 ing, Fenn like an old, faithful, affectionate dependant, and 
 I — well ! I myself fallen into a mere admiration of so much 
 impudence, that transcended words, and had very soon 
 conquered animosity. I took a fancy to the man, he was 
 90 vast a humbug. I began to see a kind of beauty in him, 
 his aplomb was so majestic. I never knew a rogue to cut 
 so fat ; his villainy was ample, like his belly, and I could 
 scarce find it in my heart to hold him responsible for either. 
 He was good enough to drop into the autobiographical ; 
 telling me how the farm, in spite of the war and the high
 
 I FOLLOW A COVEEED CART 131 
 
 prices, had proved a disappointment ; how there was " a 
 sight of cold, wet land as you come along the 'igh road " ; 
 how the Avinds and rains and the seasons had been misdi- 
 rected, it seemed ''©'purpose"; how Mrs. Fenn had died — 
 ^' I lost her coming two year agone ; a remarkable fine 
 woman, my old girl, sir ! if you'll excuse me," he added, 
 with a burst of humility. In short, he gave me an oppor- 
 tunity of studying John Bull, as I may say, stufEed naked — 
 his greed, his usuriousness, his hypocrisy, his perfidy of 
 the back-stairs, all swelled to the superlative — such as was 
 well worth the little disarray and fluster of our passage in 
 the hall.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 I MEET TWO OF MY COUNTRYMEN" 
 
 As soon as I judged it safe, and that was not before 
 Burchell Fennhad talked himself back into his breath and 
 a complete good humour, I proposed he should introduce 
 me to the French officers, henceforth to become my fel- 
 low-passengers. There were two of them, it appeared, and 
 my heart beat as I approached the door. The specimen 
 of Perfidious Albion whom I had just been studying gave 
 me the stronger zest for my fellow-countrymen. I could 
 have embraced them ; I could have wept on their necks. 
 And all the time I was going to a disappointment. 
 
 It was in a spacious and low room, with an outlook on 
 the court, that I found them bestowed. In the good days 
 of that house the apartment had probably served as a li- 
 brary, for there were traces of shelves along the wainscot. 
 Four or five mattresses lay on the floor in a corner, with a 
 frowsy heap of bedding ; near by was a basin and a cube of 
 soap ; a rude kitchen table and some deal chairs stood to- 
 gether at the far ^nd ; and the room was illuminated by 
 no less than four windows, and warmed by a little crazy, 
 sidelong grate, propped up with bricks in the vent of a 
 hospitable chimney, in which a jiile of coals smoked pro- 
 digiously and gave out a few starveling flames. An old, 
 frail, white-haired officer sat in one of the chairs, which 
 he had drawn close to this apology for a fire. He was 
 wrapped in a camlet cloak, of which the collar was turned 
 
 133
 
 I MEET TWO OF MY COUNTRYMEN 133 
 
 up, his knees touched the bars, his hands were spread in 
 the very smoke, and yet he sliivered for cold. The sec- 
 ond — a big, florid, fine animal of a man, whose every gest- 
 ure labelled him the cock of the walk and the admiration 
 of the ladies — had apparently despaired of the fire, and 
 now strode up and down, sneezing hard, bitterly blowing 
 his nose, and proffering a continual stream of bluster, com- 
 plaint, and barrack-room oaths. 
 
 Fenn showed me in, with the brief form of introduction; 
 *' Gentlemen all, this here's another fare ! " and was gone 
 again at once. The old man gave me but the one glance 
 out of lack-lustre eyes ; and even as he looked a shiver 
 took him as sharp as a hiccough. But the other, who rep- 
 resented to admiration the picture of a Beau in a Catarrh, 
 stared at me arrogantly. 
 
 **And who are you, sir ?" he asked. 
 
 I made the military salute to my superiors. 
 
 *' Champdivers, private. Eighth of tlie Line,^' said I. 
 
 ** Pretty business ! " said he. ''And you are going on 
 with us ? Three in a cart, and a great trolloping private 
 at that ! And who is to pay for you, my fine fellow ? '* 
 he inquired. 
 
 '' If monsieur comes to that," I answered civilly, *' who 
 paid for him ? *' 
 
 "0, if you choose to play the wit ! " said he, — and be- 
 gan to rail at large upon his destiny, the weather, the cold, 
 the danger and the expense of the escape, and above all, 
 the cooking of the accursed English. It seemed to annoy 
 him particularly that I should have joined their party. 
 " If you knew what you were doing, thirty thousand mill- 
 ions of pigs ! you would keep yourself to yourself ! The 
 horses can't drag the cart ; the roads are all ruts and 
 swamps. No longer ago than last night the Colonel and I 
 had to march half the way — thunder of God ! — half the
 
 134 ST. IVES 
 
 way to the knees in mud — and I with this infernal cold — 
 and the danger of detection ! Happily we met no one : a 
 desert — a real desert — like the whole abominable country ! 
 Nothing to eat — no, sir, there is nothing to eat but raw 
 cow and greens boiled in water — nor to drink but Worces- 
 tershire sauce ! Now I, with my catarrh, I have no appe- 
 tite ; is it not so ? Well, if I were in France, I should have 
 a good soup with a crust in it, an omelette, a fowl in rice, 
 a partridge in cabbages — things to tempt me, thunder of 
 God ! But here — day of God ! — what a country ! And 
 cold, too ! They talk about Russia — this is all the cold I 
 want! And the people — look at them ! What a race ! 
 Never any handsome men ; never any fine officers ! " — and 
 he looked down complacently for a moment at his waist — 
 *' And the women — what faggots ! No, that is one point 
 clear, I cannot stomach the English ! " 
 
 There was something in this man so antipathetic to me, 
 as sent the mustard into my nose. I can never bear your 
 bucks and dandies, even when they are decent-looking and 
 well dressed ; and the Major — for that was his rank — was 
 the image of a flunkey in good luck. Even to be in agree- 
 ment with him, or to seem to be so, was more than I could 
 make out to endure. 
 
 " You could scarce be expected to stomach them," said 
 I, civilly, "after having just digested your parole." 
 
 He whipped round on his heel and turned on me a coun- 
 tenance which I daresay he imagined to be awful ; but an- 
 other fit of sneezing cut him off ere he could come the 
 length of speech. 
 
 " I have not tried the dish myself," I took the opportu- 
 nity to add. " It is said to be unpalatable. Did monsieur 
 find it so ? " 
 
 With surprising vivacity the Colonel woke from his 
 lethargy. He was between us ere another word could pass.
 
 I MEET TWO OF MY COUNTRYMEN 135 
 
 " Shame, gentlemen ! " he said. " Is this a time for 
 Frenchmen and fellow-soldiers to fall out ? We are in the 
 midst of our enemies ; a quarrel, a loud word, may suffice 
 to plunge us back into irretrievable distress. Mojisieur le 
 Commandant, you have been gravely offended. I make it 
 my request, I make it my prayer — if need be, I give you 
 my orders — that the matter shall stand'by until we come 
 safe to France. Then, if you please, I will serve you in 
 any capacity. And for you, young man, you have shown 
 all the cruelty and carelessness of youth. This gentleman 
 is your superior ; he is no longer young " — at which word 
 you are to conceive the Major's face. *'It is admitted he 
 has broken his parole. I know not his reason, and no 
 more do you. It might be patriotism in this hour of our 
 country's adversity, it might be humanity, necessity ; you 
 know not what in the least, and you permit yourself to re- 
 flect on his honour. To break parole may be a subject for 
 pity and not derision. I have broken mine — I, a colonel 
 of the Empire. And why ? I have been years negotiating 
 my exchange, and it cannot be managed ; those who have 
 influence at the Ministry of War continually rush in be- 
 fore me, and I have to Avait, and my daughter at home is 
 in a decline. I am going to see my daughter at last, and 
 it is my only concern lest I should have delayed too long. 
 She is ill, and very ill, — at death's door. Nothing is left 
 me but my daughter, my Emperor, and my honour ; and 
 I give my honour, blame me for it who dare ! " 
 
 At this my heart smote me. 
 
 " For God's sake," I cried, " think no more of what I 
 have said ! A parole ? what is a parole against life and 
 death and love ? I ask your pardon ; this gentleman's also. 
 As long as I shall be with you, you shall not have cause to 
 complain of me again. I pray God you will find your 
 daughter alive and restored."
 
 136 ST. 1VE8 
 
 *' That is past praying for," said the Colonel ; and im- 
 mediately the brief fire died out of him, and returning to 
 the hearth, he relapsed into his former abstraction. 
 
 But I was not so easy to compose. Tlie knowledge of 
 the poor gentleman's trouble and the sight of his face had 
 filled me with the bitterness of remorse ; and I insisted 
 upon shaking hands with the Major (which he did with a 
 Tery ill grace), and abounded in palinodes and ajDologies. 
 
 " After all," said I, " who am I to talk ? I am in the 
 Inck to be a private soldier ; I have no parole to give or to 
 keep ; once I am over the rampart, I am as free as air. I 
 beg you to believe that I regret from my soul the use of 
 these ungenerous expressions. Allow me .... Is tliere 
 no way in this damned house to attract attention ? Where 
 is this fellow, Fenn ? " 
 
 I ran to one of the windows and threw it open. Fenn, 
 who was at the moment passing below in the court, cast 
 up his arms like one in despair, called to me to keep back, 
 plunged into the house, and appeared next moment in the 
 doorway of the chamber. 
 
 ** 0, sir ! " says he, " keep away from those there win- 
 dows. A body might see you from the back lane." 
 
 "It is registered," said I. " Henceforward I will be a 
 mouse for precaution and a ghost for invisibility. But in 
 the meantime, for God's sake, fetch us a bottle of brandy J 
 Your room is as damp as the bottom of a well, and these 
 gentlemen are perishing of cold." 
 
 So soon as I had paid him (for everything, I found, must 
 be paid in advance), I turned my attention to the fire, 
 and whether because I threw greater energy into the 
 bnsiness, or because the coals were now warmed and the 
 time ripe, I soon started a blaze that made the chimney 
 roar again. The shine of it, in that dark, rainy day, 
 seemed to reanimate the Colonel like a blink of sun,
 
 1 MEET TWO OF MY COUNTRYMEN 137 
 
 With the outburst of the flames, besides, a draught was 
 established, which immediately delivered us from the 
 plague of smoke ; and by the time Fenn returned, carry- 
 ing a bottle under his arm and a single tumbler in his 
 hand, there was already an air of gaiety in the room that 
 did the heart good. 
 
 I poured out some of the brandy. 
 
 " Colonel,^' said I, " I am a young man and a private 
 soldier. I have not been long in this room, and already 
 I have shown the petulance that belongs to the one char- 
 acter and the ill manners that you may look for in the 
 other. Have the humanity to pass these slips over, and 
 honour me so far as to accept this glass." 
 
 *'My lad," says he, waking up and blinking at me with 
 an air of suspicion, " are you sure you can afford it ? " 
 
 I assured him I could. 
 
 "I thank you, then: I am very cold." He took the 
 glass out, and a little colour came in his face. " I thank 
 you again," said he. " It goes to the heart." 
 
 /The Major, when I motioned him to help himself, did 
 so with a good deal of liberality ; continued to do so for 
 the rest of the morning, now with some sort of apology, 
 now with none at all ; and the bottle began to look fool- 
 ish before dinner was served. It was such a meal as he 
 had himself predicted : beef, greens, potatoes, mustard in 
 a teacup, and beer in a brown jug that was all over 
 hounds, horses, and hunters, with a fox at the far end 
 and a gigantic John Bull — for all the world like Fenn — 
 sitting in the midst in a bob- wig and smoking tobacco. 
 The beer was a good brew, but not good enough for the 
 Major ; he laced it with brandy — for his cold, he said ; 
 and in this curative design the remainder of the bottle 
 ebbed away. He called my attention repeatedly to the 
 circumstance ; helped me pointedly to the dregs, threw
 
 138 ST. IVES 
 
 the bottle in the air and played tricks with it ; and at last, 
 having exhausted his ingenuity, and seeing me remain 
 quite blind to every hint, he ordered and paid for another 
 himself. 
 
 As for the Colonel, he ate nothing, sat sunk in a muse, 
 and only awoke occasionally to a sense of where he was, 
 and what he was supposed to be doing. On each of these 
 occasions he showed a gratitude and kind courtesy that 
 endeared him to me beyond expression. " Champdivers, 
 my lad, your health !" he would say. ''The Major and 
 I had a very arduous march last night, and I jiositively 
 thought I should have eaten nothing, but your fortu- 
 nate idea of the brandy has made quite a new man of 
 me — quite a new man." And he would fall to with a 
 great air of heartiness, cut himself a mouthful, and before 
 he had sav allowed it, would have forgotten his dinner, his 
 company, the place where he then was, and the escape he 
 vs^as engaged on, and become absorbed in the vision of a 
 sick room and a dying girl in France. The pathos of this 
 continual preoccupation, in a man so old, sick, and over- 
 weary, and whom I looked upon as a mere bundle of dying 
 bones and death-pains, put me wholly from my victuals : 
 it seemed there was an element of sin, a kind of rude bra- 
 vado of youth, in the mere relishing of food at the same 
 table with this tragic father ; and though I was well 
 enough used to the coarse, plain diet of the English, I ate 
 scarce more than himself. Dinner was hardly over before 
 he succumbed to a lethargic sleep ; lying on one of the 
 mattresses with his limbs relaxed, and his breath seem- 
 ingly suspended — the very image of dissolution. 
 
 This left the Major and myself alone at the table. You 
 must not suppose our tUe-a-tUe was long, but it was a 
 lively period while it lasted. He drank like a fish or an 
 Englishman; shouted, beat the table, roared out songs>
 
 I MEET TWO OF MY COUNTRYMEN 139 
 
 quarrelled, made it up again, and at last tried to throw 
 the dinner-plates through the window, a feat of which he 
 was at that time quite incapable. For a party of fugitives,, 
 condemned to the most rigorous discretion, there waa 
 never seen so noisy a carnival ; and through it all the Col- 
 onel continued to sleep like a child. Seeing the Major 
 so well advanced, and no retreat possible, I made a fair 
 wind of a foul one, keeping his glass full, pushing him 
 with toasts ; and sooner than I could have dared to hope, 
 he became drowsy and incoherent. With the wTong-head- 
 edness of all such sots, he would not be persuaded to lie 
 down upon one of the mattresses until I had stretched 
 myself upon another. But the comedy was soon over ; 
 soon he slept the sleep of the just, and snored like a mil- 
 itary music ; and I might get up again and face (as best I 
 could) the excessive tedium of the afternoon. 
 
 I had passed the night before in a good bed ; I was de- 
 nied the resource of slumber ; and there was notliing 
 open for me but to pace the apartment, maintain the fire, 
 and brood on my position. I compared yesterday and to- 
 day — the safety, comfort, jollity, open-air exercise and 
 pleasant roadside inns of the one, with the tedium, anx- 
 iety, and discomfort of the other. I remembered that I 
 was in the hands of Fenn, who could not be more false 
 — though he might be more vindictive — than I fancied 
 him. I looked forward to nights of pitching in the cov- 
 3red cart, and days of monotony in I knew not what 
 hiding-places ; and my heart failed me, and I was in two 
 minds whether to slink off ere it was too late, and return 
 to ray former solitary way of travel. But the Colonel 
 stood in the path. I had not seen much of him ; but al- 
 ready I judged him a man of a childlike nature — with that 
 sort of innocence and courtesy that, I think, is only to be 
 found in old soldiers or old priests — and broken with years
 
 140 ST. IVES 
 
 and sorrow. I could not turn ray back on his distress ; 
 could not leave him alone with the selfish troojDer who 
 snored on the next mattress. " Champdivers, my lad, your 
 health ! " said a voice in my ear, and stopped me — and 
 there are few things I am more glad of in the retrospect 
 than that it did. 
 
 It must have been about four in the afternoon — at least 
 the rain had taken off, and the sun was setting with some 
 wintry pomp — when the current of my reflections was ef- 
 fectually changed by the arrival of two visitors in a gig. 
 They were farmers of the neighbourhood, I suppose — big, 
 burly fellows in great-coats and top-boots, mightily flushed 
 with liquor when they arrived, and before they left, in- 
 imitably drunk. They stayed long in the kitchen with 
 Burchell, drinking, shouting, singing, and keeping it up ; 
 aud the sound of their merry minstrelsy kej)t me a kind of 
 company. If it was scarce tuneful, it was at least more 
 so than the bestial snoring of the Major on the mattress. 
 The night fell, and the shine of the fire brightened and 
 blinked on the panelled wall. Our illuminated windows 
 must have been visible not only from the back lane of 
 which Fenn had spoken, but from the court where the 
 farmers' gig awaited them. When they should come forth, 
 they must infallibly perceive the chamber to be tenanted ; 
 and suppose them to remark upon the circumstance, it be- 
 came a question whether Fenn was honest enough to wish 
 to protect us, or would have sense enough left, after his 
 long potations, to put their inquiries by. In the far end 
 of the firelit room lay my companions, the one silent, the 
 other clamorously noisy, the images of death and drunken- 
 ness. Little wonder if I were tem2')ted to join in the cho- 
 ruses below, and sometimes could hardly refrain from 
 laughter, and sometimes, I believe, from tears — so unmiti- 
 gated was the tedium, so cruel the suspense, of this period.
 
 I MEET TWO OF MY COUNTRYMEN 141 
 
 At last, about six at night, I should fancy, the noisy 
 minstrels appeared in the court, headed by Fenn with a 
 lantern, and knocking together as they came. The vis- 
 itors clambered noisily into the gig, one of them shook the 
 reins, and they were snatched out of sight and hearing 
 with a suddenness that partook of the nature of prodigy. 
 I am well aware there is a Providence for drunken men, 
 that holds the reins for them and presides over their trou • 
 bles ; doubtless he had his work cut out for him with this 
 particular gigful ! Fenn rescued his toes with an ejacu- 
 lation from under the departing wheels, and turned at 
 once with uncertain steps and devious lantern to the far 
 end of the court. There, through the open doors of a 
 coach-house, the shock-headed lad was already to be seen 
 drawing forth the covered cart. If I wished any private 
 talk with our host, it must be now or never. 
 
 Accordingly I groped my way downstairs, and came to 
 him as he looked on at and lighted the harnessing of the 
 horses. 
 
 " The hour approaches when we have to part," said I ; 
 " and I shall be obliged if you will tell your servant to 
 drop me at the nearest point for Dunstable. I am de- 
 termined to go so far with our friends. Colonel X and 
 Major Y, but my business is peremptory, and it takes me 
 to the neighbourhood of Dunstable." 
 
 Orders were given, to my satisfaction, with an obsequi- 
 ousness that seemed only inflamed by his potations.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 TRAVELS OF THE COVERED CART 
 
 My companions were aroused with difficulty : the Colonel, 
 poor old gentleman, to a sort of permanent dream, in which 
 you could say of him only that he was very deaf and anx- 
 iously polite ; the Major still maudlin drunk. We had a 
 dish of tea by the fireside, and then issued like criminals 
 into the scathing cold of the night. For the weather had 
 in the meantime changed. Upon the cessation of the rain, 
 a strict frost had succeeded. The moon, being young, was 
 already near the zenith when we started, glittered every- 
 where on sheets of ice, and sparkled in ten thousand icicles. 
 A more unpromising night for a journey it was hard to 
 conceive. But in the course of the afternoon the horses 
 had been well roughed ; and King (for such was the name 
 of the shock-headed lad) was very positive that he could 
 drive us without misadventure. He was as good as his 
 word ; indeed, despite a gawky air, he was simply invalu- 
 able in his present employment, showing marked sagacity 
 in all that concerned the care of horses, and guiding us by 
 one short cut after another for days, and without a fault. 
 
 The interior of that engine of torture, the covered cart, 
 was fitted with a bench, on which we took our places ; the 
 door was shut ; in a moment, the night closea upon us 
 solid and stifling ; and we felt that we were being driven 
 carefully out of the courtyard. Careful was the word all 
 night, and it was an alleviation of our miseries that we did 
 
 142
 
 TRAVELS OF THE COVERED CART 143 
 
 not often enjoy. In general, as we were driven the better 
 part of the night and day, often at a pretty quick pace and 
 always through a labyrinth of the most infamous country 
 lanes and by-roads, we were so bruised upon the bench, so 
 dashed against the top and sides of the cart, that we reached 
 the end of a stage in truly j)itiable case, sometimes flung 
 ourselves down without the formality of eating, made but 
 one sleep of it until the hour of departure returned, and 
 were only properly awakened by the first jolt of the re- 
 newed journey. There were interruptions, at times, that 
 we hailed as alleviations. At times the cart was bogged, 
 once it was upset, and we must alight and lend the driver 
 the assistance of our arms ; at times, too (as on the oc- 
 casion when I had first encountered it), the horses gave 
 out, and we had to trail alongside in mud or frost until the 
 first peep of daylight, or the approach to a hamlet or a 
 high road, bade us disappear like ghosts into our prison. 
 
 The main roads of England are incomparable for ex- 
 cellence, of a beautiful smoothness, very ingeniously laid 
 down, and so well kept that in most weathers you could 
 take your dinner off any part of them without distaste. 
 On them, to the note of the bugle, the mail did its sixty 
 miles a day ; innumerable chaises whisked after the 
 bobbing postboys ; or some young blood would flit by in 
 a curricle and tandem, to the vast delight and danger of 
 the lieges. On them, the slow-2>acing waggons made a 
 music of bells, and all day long the travellers on horseback 
 and the travellers on foot (like happy Mr. St. Ives so little 
 a while before !) kept coming and going, and baiting and 
 gaping at each other, as though a fair were due, and they 
 were gathering to it from all England. 'No, nowhere in 
 the world is travel so great a pleasure as in that country. 
 But unhappily our one need was to be secret ; and all this 
 rapid and animated picture of the road swept quite apart
 
 144 ST. IVES 
 
 from Tis, as we Inmbered up hill and down dale, under 
 hedge and over stone, among circuitous bywaj's. Only 
 twice did I receive, as it were, a whiff of the highway. 
 The first readied my ears alone. I might have been any- 
 where. I only knew I was walking in the dark night and 
 among ruts, when I heard very far off, over the silent 
 country that surrounded us, the guard's horn wailing its 
 signal to the next post-house for a change of horses. It 
 was like the voice of the day heard in darkness, a voice of 
 the world heard in prison, the note of a cock crowing in 
 the mid-seas — in short, I cannot tell you what it was like, 
 you will have to fancy for yourself — but I could have wept 
 to hear it. Once we were belated : the cattle could hardly 
 crawl, the day was at hand, it Avas a nipping, rigorous 
 morning, King was lashing his horses, I was giving an arm 
 to the old Colonel, and the Major was coughing in our 
 rear. I must suppose that King was a thought careless, 
 being nearly in desperation about his team, and, in spite 
 of the cold morning, breathing hot with his exertions. 
 ^Vc came, at last, a little before sunrise to the summit of 
 a hill, and saw the high-road passing at right angles through 
 an open country of meadows and hedgerow pollards ; and 
 not only the York mail, speeding smoothly at the gallop 
 of the four horses, but a post-chaise besides, with the post- 
 boy titupping briskly, and the traveller himself putting his 
 head out of the window, but whether to breathe the dawn, 
 or the better to observe the passage of the mail, I do not 
 know. So that we enjoyed for an instant a picture of free 
 life on the road, in its most luxurious forms of despatch 
 and comfort. And thereafter, with a poignant feeling of 
 contrast in our hearts, we must mount again into our 
 wheeled dungeon. 
 
 We came to our stages at all sorts of odd hours, and they 
 were *n all kinds of odd places. I may say at once that
 
 TRAVELS OF THE COVERED CART 145 
 
 my first experience was my best. Nowliere again were we 
 so well entertained as at Burchell Fenn^s. And this, I 
 suppose, was natural, and indeed inevitable, in so long and 
 secret a journey. The first stop, we lay six hours in a 
 barn standing by itself in a poor, marshy orchard, and 
 packed with hay ; to make it more attractive, we were 
 told it had been the scene of an abominable murder, and 
 was now haunted. But the day was beginning to break, 
 and our fatigue was too extreme for visionary terrors. 
 The second or third, we alighted on a barren heath about 
 midnight, built a fire to warm us under the shelter of some 
 thorns, supped like beggars on bread and a piece of cold 
 bacon, and slept like gipsies with our feet to the fire. In 
 the meanwhile. King was gone with the cart, I know not 
 where, to get a change of horses, and it was late in the 
 dark morning when he returned and we were able to re- 
 sume our journey. In the middle of another night, we 
 came to a stop by an ancient, whitewashed cottage of two 
 stories ; a privet hedge surrounded it ; the frosty moon 
 shone blankly on the upper windoAvs ; but through those 
 of the kitchen the firelight was seen glinting on the roof 
 and reflected from the dishes on the wall. Here, after 
 much hammering on the door. King managed to arouse an 
 old crone from the chimney-corner chair, where she had 
 been dozing in the watch ; and we were had in, and enter- 
 tained with a dish of hot tea. This old lady was an aunt of 
 Burchell Fenn's — and an unwilling partner in his danger- 
 ous trade. Though the house stood solitary, and the hour 
 was an unlikely one for any passenger upon the road. King 
 and she conversed in whispers only. There was something 
 dismal, something of the sick-room, in this perpetual, 
 guarded sibilation. The apprehensions of our hostess in- 
 sensibly communicated themselves to every one present. 
 We ate like mice in a cat's ear ; if one of us jingled a tea- 
 10
 
 146 ST. IVES 
 
 spoon, all would start ; and when the honr came to take 
 the road again; we drew a long breath of relief, and climbed 
 to our places in the covered cart with a positive sense of 
 escape. The most of our meals, however, were taken 
 boldly at hedgerow alehouses, usually at untimely hours of 
 the day, when the clients were in the field or the farmyard 
 at labour. I shall have to tell presently of our last ex- 
 perience of the sort, and how unfortunately it miscarried ; 
 but as that was the signal for my separation from my fellow- 
 travellers, I must first finish with them. 
 
 I had never any occasion to waver in my first judgment 
 of the Colonel. The old gentleman seemed to me, and 
 still seems in the retrospect, the salt of the earth. I had 
 occasion to see him in the extremes of hardship, hunger 
 and cold ; he was dying, and he looked it ; and yet I can- 
 not remember any hasty, harsh, or impatient word to have 
 fallen from his lips. On the contrary, he ever showed 
 himself careful to please ; and even if he rambled in his 
 talk, rambled always gently — like a humane, half-witted 
 old hero, true to his colours to the last. I would not dare 
 to say how often he awoke suddenly from a lethargy, and 
 told us again, as though we had never heard it, the story of 
 how he had earned the cross, how it had been given him 
 by the hand of the Emperor, and of the innocent — and, 
 indeed, foolish — sayings of his daughter when he returned 
 with it on his bosom. He had another anecdote which he 
 was very apt to give, by way of a rebuke, Avhen the Major 
 wearied us beyond endurance with dispraises of the Eng- 
 lish. This was an account of the hraves gens with whom 
 he had been boarding. True enough, he was a man so 
 simple and grateful by nature, tliat the most common 
 civilities were able to touch him to tlie heart, and would 
 remain written in his memory ; but from a thousand in- 
 considerable but conclusive indications, I gathered that
 
 TKAVELS OF THE COVERED CART 147 
 
 this family had really loved him, and loaded him with 
 kindness. They made a fire in his bedroom, -which the 
 sons and daughters tended with their own hands ; letters 
 from France were looked for with scarce more eagerness 
 by himself than by these alien sympathisers ; when they 
 came, he would read them aloud in the parlour to the 
 assembled family, translating as he went. The Colonel's 
 English was elementary ; his daughter not in the least 
 likely to be an amusing correspondent ; and, as I conceived 
 these scenes in the parlour, I felt sure the interest centred 
 in the Colonel himself, and I thought I could feel in my 
 own heart that mixture of the ridiculous and the pathetic, 
 the contest of tears and laughter, which must have shaken 
 the bosoms of the family. Their kindness had continued 
 till the end. It appears they were privy to his flight, the 
 camlet cloak had been lined expressly for him, and he was 
 the bearer of a letter from the daughter of the house to his 
 own daughter in Paris. The last evening, when the time 
 came to say good-night, it was tacitly known to all that 
 they were to look upon his face no more. He rose, plead- 
 ing fatigue, and turned to the daughter, who had been his 
 chief ally : ''You will permit me, my dear — to an old and 
 very unhappy soldier — and may God bless you for your 
 goodness ! " The girl threw her arms about his neck and 
 sobbed upon his bosom ; the lady of the house burst into 
 tears ; '* et je vous le jure, le pere se moucliait ! " quoth the 
 Colonel, twisting his moustaches with a cavalry air, and at 
 the same time blinking the water from his eyes at the 
 mere recollection. 
 
 It was a good thought to me that he had found these 
 friends in captivity ; that he had started on this fatal jour- 
 ney from so cordial a farewell. He had broken his parole 
 for his daughter : that he should ever live to reach her 
 sick bed, that he could continue to endure to an end the
 
 148 ST. IVES 
 
 hardships, the crushing fatigue, the savage cold, of onr 
 pilgrimage, I had early ceased to hope. I did for him 
 what I was able, — nursed him, kept him covered, watched 
 over his slumbers, sometimes held him in my arms at the 
 rough places of the road. " Champdivers," he once said, 
 *' you are like. a son to me — like a son." It is good to re- 
 member, though at the time it put me on the rack. All 
 was to no purpose. Fast as we were travelling towards 
 France, he was travelling faster still to another destina- 
 tion. Daily he grew weaker and more indifferent. An 
 old rustic accent of Lower Normandy reappeared in his 
 speech, from which it had long been banished, and grew 
 stronger ; old words of the palois, too : ouistreham, ma- 
 trasse, and others, the sense of which we were sometimes 
 unable to guess. On the very last day he began again his 
 eternal story of the cross and the Emperor. The Major, 
 who was particularly ill, or at least particularly cross, ut- 
 tered some angry words of protest, " Pardonnez-moi, mon- 
 sieur le comma?idant, mats c'est pour mo7isieur," said the 
 Colonel : " Monsieur has not yet heard the circumstance, 
 and is good enough to feel an interest." Presently, after, 
 however, he began to lose the thread of his narrative ; and 
 at last : " Que que j'ai 9 Je m'emhrouille ! " says he, " Suf- 
 fit : s'm'a la donne, et Berthe en etait Men contente." It 
 struck me as the falling of the curtain or the closing of the 
 sepulchre doors. 
 
 Sure enough, in but a little while after, he fell into a 
 sleep as gentle as an infant's, which insensibly changed 
 into the sleep of death. I had my arm about his body at 
 the time and remarked nothing, unless it were that he 
 once stretched himself a little, so kindly the end came to 
 that disastrous life. It was only at our evening halt that 
 the Major and I discovered we were travelling alone with 
 the poor clay. That niglit we stole a spade from a field—
 
 TRAVELS OF THE COVERED CART 149 
 
 I think near Market Bosworth — and a little farther on, in 
 a wood of yonug oak trees and by the light of King's lan- 
 tern, we buried the old soldier of the Empire with both 
 prayers and tears. 
 
 We had needs invent Heaven if it had not been revealed 
 to us ; there are some things that fall so bitterly ill on this 
 side Time ! As for the Major, I have long since forgiven 
 him. He broke the news to the poor ColoneFs daughter ; 
 I am told he did it kindly ; and sure, nobody could have 
 done it without tears ! His share of Purgatory will be 
 brief ; and in this world, as I could not very well praise 
 him, I have suppressed his name. The Colonel's also, for 
 the sake of his parole. Requiescant.
 
 CHAPTEE XV 
 
 THE ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 
 
 I HAVE mentioned onr usual course, which was to eat 
 in inconsiderable wayside hostelries, known to King, It 
 was a dangerous business : we went daily under fire to 
 satisfy our appetite, and put our head in the lion's mouth 
 for a piece of bread. Sometimes, to minimise the risk, we 
 would all dismount before we came in view of the house, 
 straggle in severally, and give what orders we pleased, like 
 disconnected strangers. In like manner we departed, to 
 find the cart at an appointed place, some half a mile be- 
 yond. The Colonel and the Major had each a word or two 
 of English, — God help their pronunciation ! But they 
 did well enough to order a rasher and a pot or call a reck- 
 oning ; and, to say truth, these country folks did not give 
 themselves the pains, and had scarce the knowledge, to be 
 critical. 
 
 About nine or ten at night the pains of hunger and cold 
 drove ns to an alehouse in the flats of Bedfordshire, not far 
 from Bedford itself. In the inn kitchen was a long, lean, 
 characteristic-looking fellow of perhaps forty, dressed in 
 black. He sat on a settle by the fireside, smoking a long 
 pipe, such as they call a yard of clay. His hat and wig 
 were hanged upon the knob behind him, his head as bald as 
 a bladder of lard, and his expression very shrewd, cantank- 
 erous, and inquisitive. He seemed to value himself above 
 his company, to give himself the airs of a man of the world 
 
 150
 
 ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 151 
 
 among that rustic herd ; which was often no more than 
 his due ; being, as I afterwards discovered, an attorney's 
 clerk. I took upon myself the more ungrateful part of ar- 
 riving last ; and by the time I entered on the scene the 
 Major was already served at a side table. Some general 
 conversation must have passed, and I smelled danger in 
 the air. The Major looked flustered, the attorney's clerk 
 triumphant, and the three or four peasants in smock- 
 frocks (who sat about the fire to play chorus) had let their 
 pipes go out. 
 
 " Give you good evening, sir ! " said the attorney's 
 clerk to me. 
 
 *' The same to you, sir," said I. 
 
 *' I think this one will do," quoth the clerk to the yokels 
 ■with a wink ; and then, as soon as I had given my order, 
 *' Pray, sir, whither are you bound ? " he added. 
 
 " Sir," said I, '' I am not one of those who speak either 
 of their business or their destination in houses of public 
 entertainment. " 
 
 " A good answer," said he, '' and an excellent principle. 
 Sir, do you speak French ? " 
 
 ** Why, no, sir," said I. "A little Spanish at your 
 service." 
 
 " But you know the French accent, perhaps ?" said the 
 clerk. 
 
 *' Well do I do that ! " said I. " The French accent ? 
 Why, I believe I can tell a Frenchman in ten words." 
 
 " Here is a puzzle for you, then ! " he said. " I have no 
 material doubt myself, but some of these gentlemen are 
 more backward. The lack of education, you know. I 
 make bold to say that a man cannot walk, cannot hear, 
 and cannot see, without the blessings of education." 
 
 He turned to the Major, whose food plainly stuck in his 
 throat.
 
 152 ST. IVES 
 
 " Now, sir/' pursued the clerk, " let me have the pleas- 
 ure to hear your voice again. Where are you going, did 
 you say ? " 
 
 " Sare, I am go — ing to Lon — don," said the Major. 
 
 I could have flung my plate at him to be such an ass, 
 and to liave so little a gift of languages where that was tlie 
 essential. 
 
 'MVhat think 3'e of that?" said the clerk. "Is that 
 French enough ? " 
 
 " Good God ! " cried I, leaping up like one who should 
 suddenly j)erceive an acquaintance, " is this you, Mr. Du- 
 bois ? AVhy, who would have dreamed of encountering 
 you so far from home ? " As I spoke, I shook hands with 
 the Major heartily ; and turning to our tormentor, " 0, 
 sir, you may be perfectly reassured ! This is a very honest 
 fellow, a late neighbour of mine in the city of Carlisle." 
 
 I thought the attorney looked put out ; I knew little the 
 man ! 
 
 " But he is French," said he, " for all that ? " 
 
 '' Ay, to be sure ! " said I. " A Frenchman of the emi- 
 gration ! None of your Buonaparte lot. I will warrant 
 his views of politics to be as sound as your own." 
 
 " What is a little strange," said the clerk quietly, " is 
 that Mr. Dubois should deny it." 
 
 I got it fair in the face, and took it smiling ; but the 
 shock was rude, and in the course of the next words I 
 contrived to do what I have rarely done and make a slip in 
 my English. I kept my liberty and life by my proficiency 
 all these months, and for once that I failed, it is not to be 
 supposed that I would make a public exhibition of the de- 
 tails. Enough, that it was a very little error, and one that 
 might have passed ninety-nine times in a hundred. But 
 my limb of the law was as swift to pick it up as though he 
 had been by trade a master of languages.
 
 ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 153 
 
 *' Aha ! " cries he ; " and you are French, too ! Your 
 tongue bewrays you. Two Frenchmen coming into an ale- 
 house, severally and accidentally, not knowing each other, 
 at ten of the clock at night, in the middle of Bedfordshire ? 
 No, sir, that shall not pass ! You are all prisoners escap- 
 ing, if you are nothing worse. Consider yourselves under 
 arrest. I have to trouble you for your papers.'^ 
 
 " Where is your warrant, if you come to that ? " said I. 
 " My papers ! A likely thing that I would show my pa- 
 pers on the ipse dixit of an unknown fellow in a hedge 
 alehouse I " 
 
 " Would you resist the law ? " says he. 
 
 " Not the law, sir," said I. *'I hope I am too good a 
 subject for that. But for a nameless fellow with a bald 
 head and a pair of gingham small-clothes, why, certainly ! 
 'Tis my birthright as an Englishman. Where's Magna 
 Charta, else ? " 
 
 "We will see about that," says he ; and then, address- 
 ing the assistants, " where does the constable live ?" 
 
 " Lord love you, sir ! " cried the landlord, " what are 
 you thinking of ? The constable at past ten at night 1 
 Why, he's abed and asleep, and good and drunk two hours 
 agone ! " 
 
 "Ah, that a' be !" came in chorus from the yokels. 
 
 The attorney's clerk was put to a stand. He could not 
 think of force ; there was little sign of martial ardour 
 about the landlord, and the peasants were indifferent — 
 they only listened, and gaped, and now scratched a head 
 and now would get a light to their pipes from the embers 
 on the hearth. On the other hand, the Major and I put 
 a bold front on the business and defied him, not without 
 some ground of law. In this state of matters he proposed 
 I should go along with him to one Squire Merton, a great 
 man of the neighbourhood, who was in the commission of
 
 154 ST. IVES 
 
 the peace, and the end of his avenne but three lanes away. 
 I told him I would not stir a foot for him if it were to save 
 his soul. Next he proposed I should stay all night where 
 I was, and the constable could see to my affair in the morn- 
 ing, when he was sober. I replied I sliould go when and 
 where I pleased ; that we were lawful travellers in the fear 
 of God and the king, and I for one would suffer myself to 
 be stayed by nobody. At the same time, I was thinking 
 the matter had lasted altogether too long, and I determined 
 to bring it to an end at once. 
 
 " See here/' said I, getting up, for till now I had re- 
 mained carelessly seated, '' there's only one way to decide 
 a thing like this — only one way that's right English — and 
 that's man to man. Take off your coat, sir, and these gen- 
 tlemen shall see fair play." 
 
 At this there came a look in his eye that I could not mis- 
 take. His education had been neglected in one essential 
 and eminently British particular : he could not box. No 
 more could I, you may say ; but then I had the more im- 
 pudence — and I had made the proposal. 
 
 *' He says I'm no Englishman, but the proof of the pud- 
 ding is the eating of it," I continued. And here I stripped 
 my coat and fell into the proper attitude, which was just 
 about all I knew of this barbarian art. " Why, sir, yon 
 seem to me to hang back a little," said I. " Come, I'll 
 meet you ; I'll give you an appetiser — though hang me if 
 I can understand the man that wants any enticement to 
 hold up his hands." I drew a bank-note out of my fob 
 and tossed it to the landlord. " There are the stakes," 
 said I. " I'll fight yon for first blood, since you seem to 
 make so much work about it. If you tap my claret first, 
 there are five guineas for you, and I'll go with you to any 
 squire you choose to mention. If I tap yours, you'll per- 
 haps let on that I'm the better man, and allow me to go
 
 ADVENTUKE OF THE ATTOENEY'S CLERK 155 
 
 about my lawful business at my own time and convenience, 
 by God ! Is that fair, my lads ? " says I, appealing to the 
 company. 
 
 "Ay, ay,^' said the chorus of chawbacons ; '^ he can't 
 say no fairer nor that, he cap't. Take thy coat off, 
 master ! " 
 
 The limb of the law was now on the wrong side of public 
 opinion, and, what heartened me to go on, the position 
 was rapidly changing in our favour. Already the Major 
 was paying his shot to the very indijfferent landlord, and I 
 could see the white face of King at the back door, mak- 
 ing signals of haste. 
 
 *' Oho ! " quoth my enemy, " you are as full of doubles as 
 a fox, are you not ? But I see through you ; I see through 
 and through you. You would change the venue, would 
 you?" 
 
 *'I may be transparent, sir," says I, "but if you'll do 
 me the favour to stand up, you'll find I can hit damn hard.'* 
 
 "Which is a point, if you will observe, that I have 
 never called in question," said he. " Why, you ignorant 
 clowns," he proceeded, addressing the company, "can't 
 you see the fellow is gulling you before your eyes ? Can't 
 you see that he's changed the point upon me ? I say he's 
 a French prisoner, and he answers that he can box ! What 
 has that to do with it ? I would not wonder but what he 
 can dance, too — they're all dancing masters over there. I 
 say, and I stick to it, that he's a Frenchy. He says he 
 isn't. Well, then, let him out with his papers, if he has 
 them ! If he had, would he not show them ? If he had, 
 would he not jump at the idea of going to Squire Merton, 
 a man you all know ? Now, you're all plain, straightfor- 
 ward Bedfordshire men, and I wouldn't ask a better lot to 
 appeal to. You're not the kind to be talked over with any 
 French gammon, and he's plenty of that. But let me tell
 
 150 ST. IVES 
 
 him, he can take his pigs to another market ; they'll never 
 do here; they'll never go down in Bedfordshire. "Why, 
 look at the man ! Look at his feet ! Has anybody got a 
 foot in the room like that ? See how he stands ! do any 
 of you fellows stand like that ? Does the landlord, there ? 
 Why, he has Frenchman wrote all over him, as big as a 
 sign-post ! " 
 
 This was all very well ; and in a different scene, I might 
 even have been gratified by his remarks ; but I saw clearly, 
 if I were to allow him to talk, he might turn the tables on 
 me altogether. He might not be much of a hand at box- 
 ing ; but I was much mistaken, or he had studied forensic 
 eloquence in a good school. In this predicament, I could 
 think of nothing more ingenious than to burst out of the 
 house, under the pretext of an ungovernable rage. It was 
 certainly not very ingenious — it was elementary ; but I had 
 no choice. 
 
 " You white-livered dog ! " I broke out. " Do you dare 
 to tell me you're an Englishman, and won't fight ? But 
 I'll stand no more of this ! I leave this place, where I've 
 been insulted ! Here ! what's to pay ? Pay yourself ! " 
 I went on, offering the landlord a handful of silver, " and 
 give me back my bank-note ! " 
 
 The landlord, following his usual policy of obliging 
 everybody, offered no opposition to my design. The posi- 
 tion of my adversary was now thoroughly bad. He had lost 
 my two companions. He was on the point of losing me 
 also. There was plainly no hope of arousing the company 
 to help ; and, watching him with a corner of my eye, I saw 
 him hesitate for a moment. The next, he had taken down 
 his hat and his wig, which was of black horsehair ; and I 
 saw him draw from behind the settle a vast hooded great- 
 coat and a small valise. " The devil !" thought I : "is the 
 rascal going to follow me ? "
 
 ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 157 
 
 I was scarce clear of the inn before the limb of the law 
 was at my heels. I saw his face plain in the moonlight ; 
 and the most resolute purpose showed in it, along with an 
 unmoved composure. A chill went over me. " This is no 
 common adventure," thinks I to myself. "You have got 
 hold of a man of character, St. Ives ! A bite-hard, a bull- 
 dog, a weasel is on your trail ; and how are you to throw 
 him off ? " "Who was he ? By some of his expressions I 
 judged he was a hanger-on of courts. But in what charac- 
 ter had he followed the assizes ? As a simple spectator, as 
 a lawyer's clerk, as a criminal himself, or — last and worst 
 supposition — as a Bow-street "runner" ? 
 
 The cart would wait for me, perhaps, half a mile down 
 our onward road, which I was already following. And I 
 told myself that in a few minutes' walking. Bow-street 
 " runner " or not, I should have him at my mercy. And 
 then reflection came to me in time. Of all things, one was 
 out of the question. Upon no account must this obtrusive 
 fellow see the cart. Until I had killed or shook him off, I 
 was quite divorced from my companions — alone, in the 
 midst of England, on a frosty by-way leading whither I 
 knew not, with a sleuth-hound at my heels, and never a 
 friend but the holly-stick ! 
 
 We came at the same time to a crossing of lanes. The 
 branch to the left was overhung with trees, deeply sunken 
 and dark. Not a ray of moonlight penetrated its recesses ; 
 and I took it at a venture. The wretch followed my ex- 
 ample in silence ; and for some time we crunched together 
 over frozen pools without a word. Then he found his voice, 
 with a chuckle. 
 
 *' This is -not the way to Mr. Merton's," said he. 
 
 " No ? " said I. "It is mine, however." 
 
 " And therefore mine," said he. 
 
 Again we fell silent ; and we may thus have covered half
 
 158 ST. IVES 
 
 a mile before the lane, taking a sudden turn, brought us 
 forth again into the moonshine. "With his hooded great-coat 
 on his back, his valise in his hand, his black wig adjusted, 
 and footing it on the ice with a sort of sober doggedness of 
 manner, my enemy was changed almost beyond recognition : 
 changed in everything but a certain dry, polemical, pedan- 
 tic air, that spoke of a sedentary occupation and high stools. 
 I observed, too, that his valise was heavy ; and, putting this 
 and that together, hit upon a plan. 
 
 " A seasonable night, sir," said I. " What do you say to 
 a bit of running ? The frost has me by the toes." 
 
 " With all the pleasure in life," says he. 
 
 His voice seemed well assured, which pleased me little. 
 However, there was nothing else to try, except violence, for 
 which it would always be too soon. I took to my heels, 
 accordingly, he after me ; and for some time the slapping 
 of our feet on the hard road might have been heard a mile 
 away. He had started a pace behind me, and he finished 
 in the same position. For all his extra years and the weight 
 of his valise, he had not lost a hair's breadth. The devil 
 might race him for me — I had enough of it ! 
 
 And, besides, to run so fast was contrary to my interests. 
 We could not run long without arriving somewhere. \t 
 any moment we might turn a corner and find ourselves at 
 the lodge-gate of some Squire Merton, in the midst of a 
 village whose constable was sober, or in the hands of a 
 patrol. There was no help for it — I must finish with him on 
 the spot, as long as it was possible. I looked about me, and 
 the place seemed suitable : never a light, never a house — 
 nothing but stubble-fields, fallows, and a few stunted trees. 
 I stopped and eyed him in the moonlight with an angry stare. 
 
 "Enough of this foolery ! " said I. 
 
 He had turned, and now faced me full, very pale, but 
 with no sign of shrinking.
 
 ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 159 
 
 *'I am quite of your opinion/' said he. *^You have 
 tried me at the running ; you can try me next at the high 
 jump. It will be all the same. It must end the one 
 way." 
 
 I made my holly whistle about my head. 
 
 '•' I believe you know what way ! " said I. " We are 
 alone, it is night, and I am wholly resolved. Are you not 
 frightened ? " 
 
 " No/' he said, " not in the smallest. I do not box, sir ; 
 but I am not a coward, as you may have supposed. Per- 
 haps it will simplify our relations if I tell you at the outset 
 that I walk armed." 
 
 Quick as lightning I made a feint at his head ; as quickly 
 he gave ground, and at the same time I saw a pistol glitter 
 in his hand. 
 
 " No more of that, Mr. French-Prisoner ! " he said. "It 
 will do me no good to have your death at my door." 
 
 " Faith, nor me either ! " said I ; and I lowered my stick 
 and considered the man, not without a twinkle of admira- 
 tion. " Yon see," I said, " there is one consideration that 
 you appear to overlook : there are a great many chances 
 that your pistol may miss fire." 
 
 '' I have a pair," he returned. *^ Never travel without a 
 brace of barkers." 
 
 " I make you my compliment," said I. ** Yon are able 
 to take care of yourself, and that is a good trait. But, my 
 good man ! let us look at this matter dispassionately. You 
 are not a coward, and no more am I ; we are both men of 
 excellent sense ; I have good reason, whatever it may be, to 
 keep my concerns to myself and to walk alone. Now, I 
 put it to you pointedly, am I likely to stand it ? Am I 
 likely to put up with your continued and — excuse me — 
 highly impudent ingerence into my private affairs ?" 
 
 ** Another French word/' says he composedly.
 
 160 ST. IVES 
 
 "0 ! damu your French words !" cried I. ''Yoa seem 
 to be a Frencliman yourself I" 
 
 " I have had many opportunities, by which I have 
 profited," he exj)lained. " Few men are better acquainted 
 with the similarities and differences, whether of idiom or 
 accent, of the two languages." 
 
 *' You are a pompous fellow, too ! " said I. 
 
 *'0, I can make distinctions, sir," says he. "I can 
 talk with Bedfordshire peasants ; and I can express myself 
 becomingly, I hope, in the company of a gentleman of edu- 
 cation like yourself." 
 
 " If you set up to be a gentleman " I began. 
 
 " Pardon me," he interrupted : " I make no such claim. 
 I only see the nobility and gentry in the way of business* 
 I am quite a plain person." 
 
 " For the Lord's sake," I exclaimed, " set my mind at 
 rest upon one point. In the name of mystery, who and 
 what are you ? " 
 
 " I have no cause to be ashamed of my name, sir," said 
 he, " nor yet my trade. I am Thomas Dudgeon, at your 
 service, clerk to Mr. Daniel Romaine, solicitor of London; 
 High Holborn is our address, sir." 
 
 It was only by the ecstasy of the relief that I knew how 
 horribly I had been frightened. I flung my stick on the road. 
 
 *' Romaine?" I cried. "Daniel Romaine? An old 
 hunks with a red face and a big head, and got up like a 
 Quaker ? My dear friend, to my arms !" 
 
 " Keep back, I say ! " said Dudgeon weakly. 
 
 I would not listen to him. With the end of my own 
 alarm, I felt as if I must infallibly be at the end of all 
 dangers likewise ; as if the pistol that he held in one hand 
 were no more to be feared than the valise that he carried 
 Avith the other, and now put up like a barrier against my 
 advance.
 
 {( 
 
 ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 161 
 
 " Keep back, or I declare I will fire/^ he was crying. 
 
 Have a care, for God's sake ! My pistol " 
 
 He might scream as he pleased. Willy nilly, I folded 
 him to my breast, I pressed him there, I kissed his ugly 
 mtig as it had never been kissed before and would never be 
 kissed again ; and in the doing so knocked his wig awry 
 and his hat off. He bleated in my embrace ; so bleats the 
 sheep in the arms of the butcher. The whole thing, on 
 looking back, appears incomparably reckless and absurd ; 
 I no better than a madman for offering to advance on 
 Dudgeon, and he no better than a fool for not shooting me 
 while I was about it. But alFs well that ends well ; or, 
 as the people in these days kept singing and whistling on 
 the streets : — 
 
 "There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft, 
 And looks out for the life of poor Jack." 
 
 ** There ! " said I, releasing him a little, but still keep- 
 ing my hands on his shoulders, "je vous ai hel et Men em- 
 hrasse — and, as you would say, there is another French 
 word." With his wig over one eye, he looked incredibly 
 rueful and put out. ''Cheer up, Dudgeon ; the ordeal is 
 over, you shall be embraced no more. But do, first of all, 
 for God's sake, put away your pistol ; you handle it as if 
 it were a cockatrice ; some time or other, depend upon it, 
 it will certainly go off. Here is your hat. No, let me put 
 it on square, and the wig before it. Never suffer any 
 stress of circumstances to come between you and the duty 
 you owe to yourself. If you have nobody else to dress for, 
 dress for God ! 
 
 Put your wig straight 
 On your bald pate, 
 Keep your chin scraped, 
 And your figare draped. 
 11
 
 162 ST. IVES 
 
 Can you match me that ? The whole duty of man in a 
 quatrain ! And remark, I do not set up to be a profes- 
 sional bard ; these are the outpourings of a dilettante." 
 
 ** But, my dear sir \" he exclaimed. 
 
 " But, my dear sir \" I echoed, "I will allow no man 
 to interrupt the flow of my ideas. Give me your opinion 
 on my quatrain, or I vow we shall have a quarrel of it." 
 
 " Certainly you are quite an original," he said. 
 
 " Quite," said I ; ''and I believe I have my counterpart 
 before me." 
 
 " Well, for a choice," says he, smiling, " and whether 
 for sense or poetry, give me 
 
 " ' Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow : 
 The rest is all but leather and prunoUo.' " 
 
 ** 0, but that's not fair — that's Pope ! It's not origi- 
 nal. Dudgeon. Understand me," said I, wringing his 
 breast-button, " the first duty of all poetry is to be mine, 
 sir — mine. Inspiration now swells in my bosom, because 
 — to tell you the plain truth, and descend a little in style 
 — I am devilish relieved at the turn things have taken. 
 So, I daresay, are you yourself. Dudgeon, if you would 
 only allow it. And a projjos, let me ask you a home 
 question. Between friends, have you ever fired that pis- 
 tol?" 
 
 ''Why, yes, sir," he replied. "Twice — at hedgespar- 
 rows." 
 
 " And you would have fired at me, you bloody-minded 
 man ? " I cried. 
 
 " If you go to that, you seemed mighty reckless with 
 your stick," said Dudgeon. 
 
 " Did I indeed ? Well, well, 'tis all past history ; 
 ancient as King Pharamond — which is another French 
 word, if you cared to accumulate more evidence," says I.
 
 ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 163 
 
 " But happily we are now the best of friends, and have all 
 onr interests in common." 
 
 " You go a little too fast, if you'll excuse me, Mr. : 
 
 I do not know your name, that I am aware," said Dud- 
 geon. 
 
 '' No, to be sure ! " said I. " Never heard of it ! " 
 
 " A word of explanation " he began. 
 
 *' No, Dudgeon ! " I interrupted. " Be practical ; I know 
 what you want, and the name of it is supper. Rien ne 
 creuse comme Vemotion. I am hungry myself, and yet I am 
 more accustomed to warlike palpitations than you, who 
 are but a hunter of hedgesparrows. Let me look at your 
 face critically : your bill of fare is three slices of cold rare 
 roast beef, a Welsh rarebit, a pot of stout, and a glass or 
 two of sound tawny port, old in bottle — the right milk of 
 Englishmen." Methought there seemed a brightening in 
 his eye and a melting about his mouth at this enumera- 
 tion. 
 
 *' The night is young," I continued; ^'not much past 
 eleven, for a wager. Where can we find a good inn ? And 
 remark that I say good, for the port must be up to the oc- 
 casion — not a headache in a pipe of it." 
 
 '* Really, sir," he said, smiling a little, " you have a way 
 of carrying things " 
 
 " Will nothing make you stick to the subject ? " I cried ; 
 •* you have the most irrelevant mind ! How do you expect 
 to rise in your profession ? The inn ? " 
 
 " Well, I will say you are a facetious gentleman ! " said 
 he. ''You must have your way, I see. We are not three 
 miles from Bedford by this very road." 
 
 " Done ! " cried I. '' Bedford be it ! " 
 
 I tucked his arm under mine, possessed myself of the 
 valise, and walked him off unresisting. Presently we came 
 to an open piece of country lying a thought down hill.
 
 164 ST. IVES 
 
 The road was smooth and free of ice, the moonshine thin 
 and bright over the meadows and the leafless trees. I was 
 now honestly done with the iJiirgatory of the covered cart ; 
 I was close to my great-uncle's ; I had no more fear of Mr. 
 Dudgeon ; which were all grounds enough for jollity. And 
 I was aware, besides, of us two as of a pair of tiny and 
 solitary dolls under the vast frosty cupola of the midnight ; 
 the rooms decked, the moon burnished, the least of the 
 stars lighted, the floor swept and waxed, and nothing want- 
 ing but for the band to strike up and the dancing to be- 
 gin. In the exhilaration of my heart I took the music on 
 myself — 
 
 " Merrily danced the Quaker's wife, 
 And merrily danced the Quaker." 
 
 I broke into that animated and appropriate air, clapped my 
 arm about Dudgeon's waist, and away down the hill at a 
 dancing step ! He hung back a little at the start, but the 
 impulse of the tune, the night, and my example, were not 
 to be resisted. A man made of putty must have danced, 
 and even Dudgeon showed himself to be a human being. 
 Higher and higher were the capers that we cut ; the moon 
 repeated in shadow our antic footsteps and gestures ; and 
 it came over my mind of a sudden — really like balm — what 
 appearance of man I was dancing with, what a long bilious 
 countenance he had shown under his shaven pate, and what 
 a world of trouble the rascal had given me in the imme- 
 diate past. 
 
 Presently we began to see the lights of Bedford. My 
 Puritanic companion stopped and disengaged himself. 
 
 ** This is a trifle infra dig., sir, is it not ? " said he. ''A 
 party might suppose we had been drinking." 
 
 " And so you shall be. Dudgeon," said I. " You shall 
 not only be drinking, you old hypocrite, but you shall b»
 
 ADVENTUEE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 165 
 
 drunk — dead drunk, sir — and the boots shall put you to 
 bed ! We'll Avarn him when we go in. Never neglect a pre- 
 caution ; never put off till to-morrow what you can do 
 to-day ! " 
 
 But he had no more frivolity to complain of. We 
 finished our stage and came to the inn-door with decorum, 
 to find the house still alight and in a bustle with many late 
 arrivals ; to give our orders with a prompt severity which 
 ensured obedience, and to be served soon after at a side 
 table, close to the fire and in a blaze of candle-light, with 
 such a meal as I had been dreaming of for days past. For 
 days, you are to remember, I had been skulking in the 
 covered cart, a prey to cold, hunger, and an accumulation 
 of discomforts that might have daunted the most brave ; 
 and the white table napery, the bright crystal, the rever- 
 beration of the fire, the red curtains, the Turkey carpet, 
 the portraits on the coffee-room wall, the placid faces of 
 the two or three late guests Avho were silently prolonging 
 the pleasures of digestion, and (last, but not by any means 
 least) a glass of an excellent light dry port, put me in a 
 humour only to be described as heavenly. The thought of 
 the Colonel, of how he would have enjoyed this snug room 
 and roaring fire, and of his cold grave in the wood by 
 Market Bosworth, lingered on my palate, amari aliquid, 
 like an after-taste, but was not able — I say it with shame — 
 entirely to dispel my self-complacency. After all, in this 
 world every dog hangs by its own tail. I was a free ad- 
 venturer, who had just brought to a successful end — or, at 
 least, within view of it — an adventure very difficult and 
 alarming ; and I looked across at Mr. Dudgeon, as the port 
 rose to his cheeks, and a smile, that was semi-confidential 
 and a trifle foolish, began to play upon his leathery feat- 
 ures, not only with composure, but with a suspicion of 
 kindness. The rascal had been brave, a quality for which
 
 166 ST. IVE3 
 
 I would value the devil ; and if he had been pertinacioas 
 in the beginning, he had more than made up for it before 
 the end. 
 
 '* And now, Dudgeon, to explain," I began. " I know 
 your master, he knows me, and he knows and approves of 
 my errand. So much I may tell you, that I am on my way 
 to Amersham Place." 
 
 " Oho ! " quoth Dudgeon, " I begin to see." 
 
 " I am heartily glad of it," said I, passing the bottle, 
 *' because that is about all I can tell you. You must take 
 my word for the remainder. Either believe me, or don't. 
 If you don't, let's take a chaise ; you can carry me to-mor- 
 row to High Holborn, and confront me with Mr. Romaine ; 
 the result of which will be to set your mind at rest — and to 
 make the holiest disorder in your master's plans. If I judge 
 you aright (for I find you a shrewd fellow), this will not be 
 at all to your mind. You know what a subordinate gets by 
 oflficiousness ; if I can trust my memory, old Romaine has 
 not at all the face that I should care to see in anger ; and I 
 venture to predict surprising results upon your weekly 
 salary — if you are paid by the week, that is. In short, let 
 me go free, and 'tis an end of the matter ; take me to Lon- 
 don, and 'tis only a beginning — and, by my oijinion, a 
 beginning of troubles. You can take your choice." 
 
 " And that is soon taken," said he. " Go to Amersham 
 to-morrow, or go to the devil if you prefer — I wash my 
 hands of you and the whole transaction. No, you don't 
 find me putting my head in between Romaine and a client ! 
 A good man of business, sir, but hard as millstone grit. 
 I might get the sack, and I shouldn't wonder ! But, it's a 
 pity, too," he added, and sighed, shook his head, and took 
 his glass off sadly. 
 
 '' That reminds me," said I. " I have a great curiosity, 
 and you can satisfy it. Why were you so forward to meddle
 
 ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEY'S CLERK 167 
 
 with poor Mr. Dubois ? Why did you transfer your atten- 
 tions to me ? And generally, what induced you to make 
 yourself such a nuisance ?" 
 
 He blushed deeply. 
 
 " Why, sir/' says he, ** there is such a thing as patriot* 
 ism, I hope/'
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE HOME-COMING OF MR. ROWLEY^S VISCOUNT 
 
 By eight the next morning Dudgeon and I had made 
 our parting. By that time we had grown to be extremely 
 familiar ; and I would very willingly have kept him by 
 me, and even carried him to Amersham Place. But it 
 appeared he was due at the public-house where M'C had 
 met, on some affairs of my great-uncle the Count, who 
 had an outlying estate in that jjart of the shire. If Dud- 
 geon had had his way the night before, I should have been 
 arrested on my uncle's land and by my uncle's agent, a 
 culmination of ill-luck. 
 
 A little after noon I started, in a hired chaise, by way 
 of Dunstable. The mere mention of the name Amersham 
 Place made every one supple and smiling. It was plainly 
 a great house, and my uncle lived there in style. The 
 fame of it rose as we approached, like a chain of moun- 
 tains ; at Bedford they touched their caps, but in Dunstable 
 they crawled upon their bellies. I thought the landlady 
 would have kissed me ; such a flutter of cordiality, such 
 smiles, such affectionate attentions were called forth, and 
 the good lady bustled on my service in such a pother of 
 ringlets and with such a jingling of keys. " You're prob- 
 ably expected, sir, at the Place ? I do trust you may 
 'are better accounts of his lordship's 'elth, sir. We under- 
 stood that his lordship, Mosha de Carwell, was main bad. 
 Ha, sir, we shall all feel his loss, poor, dear, noble gen^ 
 
 168
 
 HOME-COMING OF MR. ROWLEY^S YlSCOtJNT 169 
 
 tleman ; and I'm sure nobody more polite ! They do say, 
 sir, his wealth is enormous, and before the Eevolution 
 quite a prince in his own country ! But I beg your par- 
 don, sir ', 'ow I do run on, to be sure ; and doubtless all 
 beknown to you already ! For you do resemble the fam- 
 ily, sir. I should have known you anywheres by the like- 
 ness to the dear viscount. Ha, poor gentleman, he must 
 'ave a 'eavy 'eart these days.'' 
 
 In the same place I saw out of the inn windows a man- 
 servant passing in the livery of my house, which you are 
 to think I had never before seen worn, or not that I could 
 remember. I had often enough, indeed, pictured myself 
 advanced to be a Marshal, a Duke of the Empire, a Grand 
 Cross of the Legion of Honour, and some other kick- 
 shaws of the kind, with a perfect rout of flunkeys correctly 
 dressed in my own colours. But it is one thing to im- 
 agine, and another to see ; it would be one thing to have 
 these liveries in a house of my own in Paris — it was quite 
 another to find them flaunting in the heart of hostile Eng- 
 land ; and I fear I should have made a fool of myself, if 
 the man had not been on the other side of the street, and 
 I at a one-pane window. There was something illusory in 
 this transplantation of the wealth and honours of a family, 
 a thing by its nature so deeply rooted in the soil ; some- 
 thing ghostly in this sense of home-coming so far from 
 home. 
 
 From Dunstable I rode away into a crescendo of similar 
 impressions. There are certainly few things to be com- 
 pared with these castles, or rather country seats, of the 
 English nobility and gentry ; nor anything at all to equal 
 the servility of the population that dwells in their neigh- 
 bourhood. Though I was but driving in a hired chaise, 
 word of my destination seemed to have gone abroad, and 
 the women curtseyed and the men louted to me by the
 
 170 ST. IVES 
 
 wayside. As I came near, I began to appreciate the roots 
 of this widespread respect. The look of ray uncle's park 
 wall, even from the outside, had something of a princely 
 character ; and when I came in view of the house itself, a 
 sort of madness of vicarious vain-glory struck me dumb 
 and kept me staring. It was about the size of the Tuile- 
 ries. It faced due north ; and the last rays of the sun, that 
 was setting like a red-hot shot amidst a tumultuous gath- 
 ering of snow clouds, were reflected on the endless rows of 
 windows. A portico of Doric columns adorned tlie front, 
 and would have done honour to a temple. The servant 
 who received me at the door was civil to a fault — I had al- 
 most said, to offence ; and the hall to which he admitted 
 me through a pair of glass doors was warmed and already 
 partly lighted by a liberal chimney heaped with the roots 
 of beeches. 
 
 " Vicomte Anne de St. Yves," said I, in answer to the 
 man's question ; whereupon he bowed before me lower still, 
 and stepping upon one side introduced me to the truly aw- 
 ful presence of the major domo. I have seen many digni- 
 taries in my time, but none who quite equalled this emi- 
 nent being ; who was good enough to answer to the 
 unassuming name of " Mr." Dawson. From him I learned 
 that my uncle was extremely low, a doctor in close attend- 
 ance, Mr. Romaine expected at any moment, and that my 
 cousin, the Vicomte de St. Yves, had been sent for the same 
 morning. 
 
 " It was a sudden seizure, then ? " I asked. 
 
 Well, he would scarcely go as far as that. It was a de- 
 cline, a fading away, sir ; but he was certainly took bad the 
 day before, had sent for Mr. Romaine, and the major domo 
 had taken it on himself a little later to send word to the 
 Viscount. *' It seemed to me, my lord," said he, " as if this 
 was a time when all the fambly should be called together,^
 
 HOME-COMING OF MR. ROWLEY's VISCOUNT 171 
 
 I approved liim with my lips, but not iu my heart. 
 Dawson was plainly in the interests of my cousin. 
 
 '^And when can I expect to see my great-uncle, the 
 Count ? '"'' said I. 
 
 In the evening, I was told ; in the meantime he would 
 show me to my room, which had been long prepared for 
 me, and I should be expected to dine in about an hour with 
 the doctor, if my lordship had no objections. 
 
 My lordshij) had not the faintest. 
 
 " At the same time," I said, " I have had an accident : 
 I have unhappily lost my baggage, and am here in what I 
 stand in. I don^t know if the doctor be a formalist, but it 
 is quite impossible I should appear at table as I ought." 
 
 He begged me to be under no anxiety. " We have been 
 long exjDecting you," said he. ''All is ready." 
 
 Such I found to be the truth. A great room had been 
 prepared for me ; through the mullioned windows the last 
 flicker of the winter sunset interchanged with the reverber- 
 ation of a royal fire ; the bed was open, a suit of evening 
 clothes was airing before the blaze, and from the far corner 
 a boy came forward with deprecatory smiles. The dream 
 in which I had been moving seemed to have reached its 
 pitch. I might have quitted this house and room only the 
 night before ; it was my own place that I had come to ; 
 and for the first time in my life I understood the force of 
 the words home and welcome. 
 
 " This will be all as you would want, sir ? " said Mr. 
 Dawson. " This 'ere boy, Rowley, we place entirely at 
 your disposition. 'E's not exactly a trained vallet, but 
 Mossho Fowl, the Viscount's gentleman, 'ave give him the 
 benefick of a few lessons, and it is 'oped that he may give 
 sitisfection. Hanythink that you may require, if you will 
 be so good as to mention the same to Rowley, I will make 
 it my business myself, sir, to see you satisfied."
 
 It^ ST. IVES 
 
 So saying, the eminent and already detested Mr. Dawson 
 took his departure, and I was left alone with Rowley. A 
 man who may be said to have wakened to consciousness in. 
 the prison of the Abbaye, among those ever graceful and 
 ever tragic figures of the brave and fair, awaiting the hour 
 of the guillotine and denuded of every comfort, I had never 
 known the luxuries or the amenities of my rank in life. 
 To be attended on by servants I had only been accustomed 
 to in inns. My toilet had long been military, to a moment, 
 at the note of a bugle, too often at a ditch-side. And it 
 need not be wondered at if I looked on my new valet with 
 a certain diffidence. But I remembered that if he was my 
 first experience of a valet, I was his first trial of a master. 
 Cheered by which consideration, I demanded my bath in a 
 style of good assurance. There was a bath-room contig- 
 uous ; in an incredibly short space of time the hot water 
 was ready ; and soon after, arrayed in a shawl dressing- 
 gown, and in a luxury of contentment and comfort, I was 
 reclined in an easy-chair before the mirror, while Rowley,, 
 with a mixture of pride and anxiety which I could well 
 understand, laid out his razors. 
 
 " Hey, Rowley ?" 1 asked, not quite resigned to go 
 under fire with such an inexperienced commander. *' It's 
 all right, is it ? You feel pretty sure of your weapons ? " 
 
 " Yes, my lord," he replied. " It's all right, I assure 
 your lordship." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mr. Rowley, but for the sake of 
 shortness, would you mind not belording me in private ? " 
 said I. "It will do very well if you call me Mr. Anne. It 
 is the way of my country, as I daresay you know." 
 
 Mr. Rowley looked blank. 
 
 ** But you're just as much a Viscount as Mr. Fowl's, are 
 you not ? " he said. 
 
 *' As Mr. Fowl's Viscount?" said I, laughing. " Oj
 
 HOME-COMING OF MK. KOWLET'S VISCOUNT 173 
 
 keep yonr mind easy, Mr. Rowley's is every bit as good. 
 Only, you see, as I am of the younger line, I bear my 
 Christian name along with the title. Alain is the Viscount; 
 I am the Viscount Anne. And in giving me the name of 
 Mr. Anne, I assure you you will be quite regular." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Anne," said the docile youth. " But about 
 the shaving, sir, you need be under no alarm. Mr. Fowl 
 says I 'ave excellent dispositions." 
 
 " Mr. Fowl ? " said I. " That doesn't seem to me very 
 like a French name." 
 
 *• No, sir, indeed, my lord," said he, with a burst of 
 confidence. " No, indeed, Mr. Anne, and it do not surely. 
 T should say now, it was more like Mr. Fole." 
 
 " And Mr. Fowl is the Viscount's man ? " 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Anne," said he. ''He 'ave a hard billet, he 
 do. The Viscount is a very particular gentleman. I don't 
 think as you'll be, Mr. Anne ? " he added, with a con- 
 fidential smile in the mirror. 
 
 He was about sixteen, well set up, with a pleasant, 
 merry, freckled face, and a pair of dancing eyes. There 
 was an air at once deprecatory and insinuating about the 
 rascal that I thought I recognised. There came to me 
 from my own boyhood memories of certain passionate ad- 
 mirations long passed away, and the objects of them long 
 ago discredited or dead. I remembered how anxious I had 
 been to serve those fleeting heroes, how readily I told my- 
 self I would have died for them, how much greater and 
 handsomer than life they had appeared. And looking in 
 the mirror, it seemed to me that I read the face of Row- 
 ley, like an echo or a ghost, by the light of my own youth. 
 I have always contended (somewhat against the opinion of 
 my friends) that I am first of all an economist ; and the 
 last thing that I would care to throw away is that very val- 
 uable piece of property — a boy's hero-worship.
 
 174 ST. IVES 
 
 *' Why/' said I, " you shave like an angel, Mr. Row- 
 ley ! " 
 
 " Thank you, my lord," said he. " Mr. Powl had no 
 fear of me. You may be sure, sir, I should never 'ave had 
 this berth if I 'adn't 'ave been up to Dick. AVe been ex- 
 pecting of you this month back. My eye ! I never see such 
 preparations. Every day the fires has been kep' up, the 
 bed made, and all ! As soon as it was known you were 
 coming, sir, I got the appointment ; and I've been up and 
 down since then like a Jack-in-the-box. A wheel couldn't 
 sound in the avenue but what I was at the window ! I've 
 had a many disappointments ; but to-night, as soon as you 
 stepped out of the shay, I knew it was my — it was you. 
 0, you had been expected ! Why, when I go down to 
 supper, I'll be the 'ero of the servants' 'all : the 'ole of the 
 staff is that curious ! " 
 
 *' Well," said I, " I hope you may be able to give a fair 
 account of me — sober, steady, industrious, good-tempered, 
 and with a first-rate character from my last place ? " 
 
 He laughed an embarrassed laugh. ''Your hair curls 
 beautiful," he said, by way of changing the subject. 
 " The Viscount's the boy for curls, though ; and the rich- 
 ness of it is, Mr. Powl tells me his don't curl no more than 
 that much twine — by nature. Gettin' old, the Viscount 
 is. He 'ave gone the pace, 'aven't 'e, sir ? " 
 
 "' The fact is," said I, ''that I know very little about 
 him. Our family has been much divided, and I have been 
 a soldier from a child." 
 
 " A soldier, Mr. Anne, sir ? " cried Rowley, with a 
 sudden feverish animation. *' Was you ever wounded ?" 
 
 It is contrary to my principles to discourage admiration 
 for myself ; and, slipping back the shoulder of the dress- 
 ing-gown, I silently exhibited the scar which I had re- 
 ceived in Edinburgh Castle. He looked at it with awe.
 
 HOME-COMING OF MR. ROWLEY *S VISCOUNT 175 
 
 " Ah, well I " he continued, '' there's where the differ- 
 ence comes in ! It's in the training. The other Viscount 
 have been horse-racing, and dicing, and carrying on all his 
 life. All right enough, no doubt ; but what I do say is, 
 that it don't lead to nothink. Whereas " 
 
 " Whereas Mr. Rowley's ? " I put in. 
 
 " My Viscount ? " said he. " Well, sir, I did say it ; 
 and now that I've seen you, I say it again ! " 
 
 I could not refrain from smiling at this outburst, and the 
 rascal caught me in the mirror and smiled to me again. 
 
 *' I'd say it again, Mr. Hanne," he said. " I know which 
 side my bread's buttered. I know when a gen'leman's a 
 gen'leman. Mr. Powl can go to Putney with his one I Beg 
 your pardon, Mr. Anne, for being so familiar," said he, 
 blushing suddenly scarlet. " I was especially warned 
 against it by Mr. Powl." 
 
 " Discipline before all," said I. " Follow your front- 
 rank man." 
 
 With that, we began to turn our attention to the clothes. 
 I was amazed to find them fit so well ; not a la diable, in 
 the hap-hazard manner of a soldier's uniform or a ready- 
 made suit ; but with nicety, as a trained artist might re- 
 joice to make them for a favourite subject. 
 
 " 'Tis extraordinary," cried I : " these things fit me per- 
 fectly." 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Anne, you two be very much of a shape," 
 said Eowley. 
 
 " Who ? What two ? " said I. 
 
 '' The Viscount," he said. 
 
 *' Damnation I Have I the man's clothes on me, too ? '* 
 cried I. 
 
 But Rowley hastened to reassure me. On the first word 
 of my coming, the Count had put the matter of my ward- 
 robe in the hands of his own and my cousin's tailors; and
 
 176 ST. IVES 
 
 on the rnmonr of onr resemblance, my clothes had been 
 made to Alain's measure. 
 
 " But they were all made for you express, Mr. Anne. 
 You may be certain the Count would never do nothing by 
 *alf : fires kep' burning ; the finest of clothes ordered, I'm 
 sure, and a body-servant being trained a-pur^Jose." 
 
 " Well,'* said I, " it's a good fire, and a good set-out of 
 clothes ; and what a valet, Mr. Eowley ! And there's one 
 thing to be said for my cousin — I mean for INIr. Fowl's 
 Viscount — he has a very fair figure." 
 
 " 0, don't you be took in, Mr. Anne," quoth the faith- 
 less Kowley : "he has to be hyked into a pair of stays to 
 get them things on ! " 
 
 " Come, come, Mr. Rowley," said I, " this is telling 
 tales out of school ! Do not you be deceived. The greatest 
 men of antiquity, including Caesar and Hannibal and Pope 
 Joan, may have been very glad, at my time of life or Alains', 
 to follow his example. 'Tis a misfortune common to all ; 
 and really," said I, bowing to myself before the mirror like 
 one who should dance the minuet, *^when the result is so 
 successful as this, who would do anything but applaud ? " 
 
 My toilet concluded, I marched on to fresh surprises. 
 My chamber, my new valet and my new clothes had been 
 beyond hope : the dinner, the souji, the whole bill of fare 
 was a revelation of the powers there are in man. I had not 
 supposed it lay in the genius of any cook to create, out of 
 common beef and mutton, things so different and dainty. 
 The wine was of a piece, the doctor a most agreeable com- 
 panion ; nor could I help reflecting on the prospect that 
 all this wealth, comfort and handsome profusion might 
 still very possibly become mine. Here were a change in- 
 deed, from the common soldier and the camp kettle, the 
 prisoner and his prison rations, the fugitive and the hor- 
 rors of the covered cart !
 
 CHAPTER XVn 
 
 THE DESPATCH-BOX 
 
 The doctor had scarce finished his meal before he has- 
 tened with an apology to attend upon his patient ; and 
 almost immediately after, I was myself summoned and 
 ushered up the great staircase and along interminable cor- 
 ridors to the bedside of my great-uncle the Count. You 
 are to think that up to the present moment I had not set 
 eyes on this formidable personage, only on the evidences 
 of his wealth and kindness. You are to think besides 
 that I had heard him miscalled and abused from my earli- 
 est childhood up. The first of the emigres could never 
 expect a good word in the society in which my father 
 moved. Even yet the reports I received were of a doubt- 
 ful nature ; even Romaine had drawn of him no very 
 amiable portrait ; and as I was ushered into the room, it 
 was a critical eye that I cast on my great-uncle. He lay 
 propped on pillows in a little cot no greater than a camp- 
 bed, not visibly breathing. He was about eighty years of 
 age, and looked it ; not that his face was much lined, but 
 all the blood and colour seemed to have faded from his 
 body, and even his eyes, which last he kept usually closed 
 as though the light distressed him. There was an un- 
 speakable degree of slyness in his expression, which kept 
 me ill at ease ; he seemed to lie there with his arms folded, 
 like a spider waiting for prey. His speech was very de- 
 liberate and courteous, but scarce louder than a sigh. 
 12 177
 
 178 ST. IVES 
 
 " I bid you welcome, Mo?isieur le Vicomte Anne," said 
 he, looking at me hard with his pale eyes, but not moving 
 on his pillows. " I have sent for you, and I thank you 
 for the obliging expedition you have shown. It is my 
 misfortune that I cannot rise to receive you. I trust you 
 have been reasonably well entertained ? " 
 
 " Monsieur mon oncle," I said, bowing very low, "1 am 
 come at the summons of the head of my family. '' 
 
 " It is well," he said. '' Be seated. I should be glad 
 to hear some news — if that can be called news that is al- 
 ready twenty years old — of how I have the pleasure to see 
 you here." 
 
 By the coldness of his address, not more than by the 
 nature of the times that he bade me recall, I was plunged 
 in melancholy. I felt myself surrounded as with deserts of 
 friendlessness, and the delight of my welcome was turned 
 to ashes in my mouth. 
 
 " That is soon told, monseigneur," said I. " I under- 
 stand that I need tell you nothing of the end of my un- 
 happy parents ? It is only the story of the lost dog." 
 
 " You are right. I am sufficiently informed of that de- 
 plorable affair ; it is painful to me. My nephew, your 
 father, was a man who would not be advised," said he. 
 *' Tell me, if you please, simply of yourself." 
 
 " I am afraid I must run the risk of harrowing your 
 sensibility in the beginning," said I, with a bitter smile, 
 "because my story begins at the foot of the guillotine. 
 When the list came out that night, and her name was 
 there, I was already old enougli, not in years but in sad 
 experience, to understand the extent of my misfortune. 
 
 She " I paused. "Enough that she arranged with a 
 
 friend, Madame de Chasserades, that she should take 
 charge of me, and by the favour of our jailors I was suf- 
 fered to remain in the shelter of the Abbaye. That was
 
 THE DESPATCH-BOX 179 
 
 my only refuge ; there was no corner of France that I 
 could rest the sole of my foot upon except the prison. 
 Monsieur le Comte, you are as well aware as I can be what 
 kind of a life that was, and how swiftly death smote in 
 that society. I did not wait long before the name of 
 Madame de Chasserades succeeded to that of my mother 
 on the list. She passed me on to Madame de Noytot ; she, 
 in her turn, to Mademoiselle de Braye ; and there were 
 others. I was the one thing permanent ; they were all 
 transient as clouds ; a day or two of their care, and then 
 came the last farewell and — somewhere far off in that roar- 
 ing Paris that surrounded us — the bloody scene. I was 
 the cherished one, the last comfort, of these dying women. 
 I have been in pitched fights, my loi'd, and I never knew 
 such courage. It was all done smiling, in the tone of good 
 society ; helle maman was the name I was taught to give 
 to each ; and for a day or two the new ' pretty mamma ' 
 would make much of me, show me off, teach me the min- 
 uet, and to say my prayers ; and then, with a tender em- 
 brace, would go the way of her predecessors, smiling. 
 There were some that wept too. There was a childhood ! 
 All the time Monsieur de Culemberg kept his eye on me, 
 and would have had me out of the Abbaye and in his own 
 protection, but my ' pretty mammas ' one after another 
 resisted the idea. Where could I be safer ? they argued ; 
 and what was to become of them without the darling of 
 the prison ? Well, it was soon shown how safe I was I 
 The dreadful day of the massacre came ; the prison was 
 overrun ; none paid attention to me, not even the last of 
 my ' pretty mammas,' for she had met another fate. I was 
 wandering distracted, when I was found by some one in 
 the interests of Monsieur de Culemberg. I understand he 
 was sent on purpose ; I believe, in order to reach the in- 
 terior of the prison, he had set his hand to nameless bar-
 
 180 ST. IVES 
 
 barities : such was the price paid for my wortliless, whim- 
 pering little life ! He gave me his hand ; it was wet, and 
 mine was reddened ; he led me unresisting. I remember 
 but the one circumstance of my flight — it was my last view 
 of my last pretty mamma. Shall I describe it to you ? " I 
 asked the Count, with a sudden fierceness. 
 
 "Avoid unpleasant details/' observed my great-uncle, 
 gently. 
 
 At these words a sudden peace fell upon me. I had been 
 angry with the man before ; I had not sought to spare him ; 
 and now, in a moment, I saw that there was nothing to 
 spare. Whether from natural heartlessness or extreme old 
 age, the soul was not at home ; and my benefactor, who 
 had kept the fire lit in my room for a month past — my 
 only relative except Alain, whom I knew already to be a 
 hired spy — had trodden out the last sparks of hope and 
 interest, 
 
 " Certainly," said I ; " and, indeed, the day for them is 
 nearly over. I was taken to Monsieur de Culemberg's, — 
 I presume, sir, that you know the Abbe de Culemberg ? " 
 
 He indicated assent without, opening his eyes. 
 
 " He was a very brave and a very learned man " 
 
 " And a very holy one," said my uncle civilly. 
 
 '^And a very holy one, as you observe," I continued. 
 <" He did an infinity of good, and through all the Terror 
 kept himself from the guillotine. He brought me up, and 
 gave me such education as I have. It was in his house in 
 the country at Dammarie, near Melun, that I made the 
 acquaintance of your agent, Mr. Vicary, who lay there 
 in hiding, only to fall a victim at the last to a gang of 
 chauffeurs." 
 
 " This poor Mr. Vicary ! " observed my uncle. " He 
 had been many times in my interests to France, and this 
 was his first failure. Quel charmant homme, n'est-ce pas?"
 
 THE DESPATCH-BOX 181 
 
 "Infinitely so/' said I. '^But I would not willingly 
 detain yon any farther with a story, the details of which it 
 nrnst naturally be more or less unpleasant for you to hear. 
 Suffice it that, by M. de Culemberg's advice, I said fare- 
 well at eighteen to that kind preceptor and his books, and 
 entered the service of France ; and have since then carried 
 arms in such a manner as not to disgrace my family." 
 
 " You narrate well; vous avez la voix cliaude," said my 
 uncle, turning on his pillows as if to study me. " I have 
 a very good account of you by Monsieur de Mauseant, 
 whom you helped in Spain. And you had some education 
 from the Abbe de Culemberg, a man of a good house ? 
 Yes, you will do very well. You have a good manner and 
 a handsome person, which hurts nothing. We are all 
 handsome in the family ; even I myself, I have had my 
 successes, the memories of which still charm me. It is my 
 intention, my nephew, to make of you my heir. I am not 
 very well content with my other nejihew. Monsieur le 
 Vicomte : he has not been respectful, which is the flattery 
 due to age. And there are other matters." 
 
 I was half tempted to throw back in his face that in- 
 heritance so coldly offered. At the same time I had to 
 consider that he was an old man, and, after all, my rela- 
 tion ; and that I was a poor one, in considerable straits, 
 with a hope at heart which that inheritance might yet en- 
 able me to realise. Nor could I forget that, however icy 
 his manners, he had behaved to me from the first with the 
 extreme of liberality and — I was about to write, kindness, 
 but the word, in that connection, would not come. I 
 really owed the man some measure of gratitude, which it 
 would be an ill manner to repay if I were to insult him on 
 his deathbed. 
 
 *' Your will, monsieur, must ever be my rule/' said I, 
 bowing.
 
 182 ST. IVES 
 
 ''You have wit, monsieiir mon nevev," said he, *'the 
 best wit — the wit of silence. Many might have deafened 
 me with their gratitude. Gratitude ! " he repeated, with 
 a peculiar intonation, and lay and smiled to himself. " But 
 to approach what is more important. As a prisoner of war, 
 will it be possible for you to be served heir to English es- 
 tates ? I have no idea : long as I have dwelt in England, I 
 have never studied M'hat they call their laws. On the other 
 hand, how if Eomaine should come too late ? I have two 
 pieces of business to be transacted — to die, and to make my 
 will ; and, however desirous I may be to serve you, I can- 
 not postpone the first in favour of the second beyond a 
 very few hours." 
 
 "Well, sir, I must then contrive to be doing as I did 
 before," said I. 
 
 " Not so," said the Count. " I have an alternative. I 
 have just drawn my balance at my banker's, a considerable 
 sum, and I am now to place it in your hands. It will be 
 
 so much for you and so much less " he paused, and 
 
 smiled with an air of malignity that surprised me. " But 
 it is necessary it should be done before witnesses. Mo7i- 
 sieur le Vicomte is of a particular disposition, and an 
 unwitnessed donation may very easily be twisted into a 
 theft." 
 
 He touched a bell, which was answered by a man having 
 the appearance of a confidential valet. To him he gave a 
 key. 
 
 " Bring me the despatch-box that came yesterday. La 
 Ferri^re," said he. " You will at the same time present 
 my compliments to Dr. Hunter and M. TAbbe, and re- 
 quest them to step for a few moments to my room." 
 
 The despatch-box proved to be rather a bulky piece of 
 baggage, covered with Russia leather. Before the doctor 
 and an excellent old smiling priest it was passed over int«
 
 THE DESPATCH-BOX 183 
 
 my hands with a very clear statement of the disposer's 
 wislies ; immediately after which, though the witnesses re- 
 mained behind to draw up and sign a joint note of the 
 transaction, Monsieur de Keroual dismissed me to my own 
 room, La Ferriere following with the invaluable box. 
 
 At my chamber door I took it from him with thanks, 
 and entered alone. Everything had been already disposed 
 for the night, the curtains drawn and the fire trimmed ; 
 and Eowley was still busy with my bedclothes. He turned 
 round as I entered with a look of welcome that did my 
 heart good. Indeed, I had never a much greater need of 
 human sympathy, however trivial, than at that moment 
 when I held a fortune in my arms. In my uncle's room I 
 had breathed the very atmosphere of disenchantment. He 
 had gorged my pockets ; he had starved every dignified or 
 affectionate sentiment of a man. I had received so chill- 
 ing an impression of age and experience that the mere 
 look of youth drew me to confide in Eowley : he was only 
 a boy, his heart must beat yet, he must still retain some 
 innocence and natural feelings, he could blurt out follies 
 with his mouth, he was not a machine to utter perfect 
 speech ! At the same time, I was beginning to outgrow 
 the painful impressions of my interview ; my spirits were 
 beginning to revive ; and at the jolly, empty looks of Mr. 
 Eowley, as he ran forward to relieve me of the box, St. 
 Ives became himself again. 
 
 "Now, Eowley, don't be in a hurry," said I. "This is 
 a momentous juncture. Man and boy, you have been in 
 my service about three hours. You must already have ob- 
 served that I am a gentleman of a somewhat morose dis- 
 position, and there is nothing that I more dislike than the 
 smallest appearance of familiarity. Mr. Pole or Mr. Powl, 
 probably in the spirit of prophecy, warned you against this 
 danger."
 
 184 ST. IVES 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Anne/' said Rowley blankly. 
 ''Now there has just arisen one of those rare cases, in 
 which I am Avilling to depart from my principles. My 
 uncle has given me a box — what you would call a Christ- 
 mas box. I don't know what's in it, and no more do yon : 
 perhaps I am an April fool, or perhaps I am already enor- 
 mously wealthy ; there might be five hundred pounds in 
 this apparently harmless receptacle ! " 
 " Lord, Mr. Anne ! " cried Rowley. 
 " Now, Rowley, hold up your right hand and repeat the 
 words of the oath after me," said I, laying the despatch- 
 box on the table. " Strike me blue if I ever disclose to 
 Mr. Powl, or Mr. Fowl's Viscount, or anything that is Mr. 
 Fowl's, not to mention Mr. Dawson and the doctor, the 
 treasures of the following despatch-box ; and strike me sky- 
 blue scarlet if I do not continually maintain, uphold, love, 
 honour and obey, serve, and follow to the four corners of 
 the earth and the waters that are under the earth, the 
 hereinafter before-mentioned (only that I find I have neg- 
 lected to mention him) Viscount Anne de Keroual de 
 St. -Yves, commonly known as Mr. Rowley's Viscount. So 
 be it. Amen." 
 
 He took the oath with the same exaggerated seriousness 
 as I gave it to him. 
 
 " Now," said I. '' Here is the key for you ; I will hold 
 the lid with both hands in the meanwhile." He turned 
 the key. " Bring up all the candles in the room, and 
 range them alongside. What is it to be ? A live gorgon, 
 a Jack-in-the-box, or a spring that fires a pistol ? On your 
 knees, sir, before the prodigy ! " 
 
 So saying, I turned the despatch-box upside down upon 
 the table. At sight of the heap of bank paper and gold 
 that lay in front of us, between the candles, or rolled upon 
 the floor alongside, I stood astonished.
 
 THE DESPATCH-BOX 185 
 
 " Lord ! "^ cried Mr. Eowley ; " Lordy, Lordy, Lord! '* 
 and he scrambled after the fallen guineas. " my, Mr. 
 Anne ! what a sight o' money ! Why, it's like a blessed 
 story-book. It's like the Forty Thieves." 
 
 " Now, Rowley, let's be cool, let's be businesslike," said 
 I. ^'Eiches are deceitful, particularly when you haven't 
 counted them ; and the first thing we have to do is to ar- 
 rive at the amount of my — let me say, modest competency. 
 If I'm not mistaken, I have enough here to keep you in 
 gold buttons all the rest of your life. You collect the gold, 
 and I'll take the paper." 
 
 Accordingly, down we sat together on the hearthrug, 
 and for some time there was no sound but the creasing of 
 bills and the jingling of guineas, broken occasionally by the 
 exulting exclamations of Eowley. The arithmetical oper- 
 ation on which we were embarked took long, and it might 
 have been tedious to others ; not to me nor to my helper. 
 
 '' Ten thousand pounds ! " I announced at last. 
 
 " Ten thousand ! " echoed Mr. Eowley. 
 
 And we gazed upon each other. 
 
 The greatness of this fortune took my breath away. 
 With that sum in my hands, I need fear no enemies. Peo- 
 ple are arrested, in nine cases out of ten, not because the 
 police are astute, but because they themselves run short 
 of money ; and I had here before me in the despatch-box a 
 succession of devices and disguises that insured my liberty. 
 Not only so ; but, as I felt with a sudden and overpower- 
 ing thrill, with ten thousand pounds in my hands I was 
 become an eligible suitor. What advances I had made in 
 the past, as a private soldier in a military prison, or a fugi- 
 tive by the wayside, could only be qualified or, indeed, ex- 
 •cused as acts of desperation. And now, I might come in by 
 the front door ; I might approach the dragon with a lawyer 
 at my elbow, and rich settlements to offer. The poor French
 
 186 ST. IVES 
 
 prisoner, Champdivers, might be in a perpetual danger of 
 arrest ; but the rich travelling Englishman, St. Ives, in his 
 post-chaise, with his despatch-box by his side, could smile 
 at fate and laugh at locksmiths. I repeated the proverb, 
 exulting, Love laughs at locksmiths! In a moment, by 
 the mere coming of this money, my love had become pos- 
 sible — it had come near, it was under my hand — and it may 
 be by one of the curiosities of human nature, but it burned 
 that instant brighter. 
 
 " Eowley," said I, "your Viscount is a made man.'* 
 
 " Why, we both are, sir,'' said Rowley. 
 
 "Yes, both,'" said I ; "and you shall dance at the wed- 
 ding ; *' and I flung at his head a bundle of bank notes, 
 and had just followed it up with a handful of guineas, 
 when the door opened, and Mr. Romaine appeared upon 
 the threshold.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 MR. EOMAINE CALLS ME KAMES 
 
 Feeling very much of a fool to be thns taken by sur- 
 prise, I scrambled to my feet and hastened to make my 
 visitor welcome. He did not refuse me his hand ; but he 
 gave it with a coldness and distance for which I was quite 
 unprepared, and his countenance, as he looked on me, was 
 marked in a strong degree Avith concern and severity. 
 
 *'So, sir, I find you here ?" said he, in tones of little 
 encouragement. '' Is that you, George ? You can run 
 away; I have business with your master." 
 
 He showed Kowley out, and locked the door behind him. 
 Then he sat down in an armchair on one side of the fire, 
 and looked at me with uncompromising sternness. 
 
 " I am hesitating how to begin," said he, " In this 
 singular labyrinth of blunders and difficulties tliat you 
 have prepared for us, I am positively hesitating where to 
 begin. It will perhaps be best that you should read, first of 
 all, this paragraph." And he handed over to me a news- 
 paper. 
 
 The paragraph in question was brief. It announced the 
 recapture of one of the prisoners recently escaped from 
 Edinburgh Castle ; gave his name, Clausel, and added that 
 he had entered into the particulars of the recent revolting 
 murder in the Castle, and denounced the murderer : — 
 
 " It is a common soldier called Champdivers, who had himself es- 
 caped, and is in all probability involved in the common fate of his 
 
 187
 
 T85 ST. IVES 
 
 comrades. In spite of the activity along all the Forth and the Bast 
 Coast, nothing has yet been seen of the sloop which these desperadoes 
 seized at Grangemouth, and it is now almost certain that they have 
 found a watery grave." 
 
 At the reading of this paragraph my heart 'nrned over. 
 In a moment I saw my castle in the air ruined ; myself 
 changed from a mere military fugitive into a hunted nnu- 
 derer, fleeing from the gallows ; my love, which had a 
 momei t since appeared so near to me, blotted from the 
 field ct possibility. Despair, which was my first senti- 
 ment, did not, however, endure for more than a moment. 
 I saw that my companions had indeed succeeded in their 
 unlikely design ; and that I was supposed to have accom- 
 panied and perished along with them by shipwreck — a 
 most probable ending to their enterprise. If they thought 
 me at the bottom of the North Sea, I need not fear much 
 vigilance on the streets of Edinburgh. Champdivers was 
 wanted : what was to connect him with St. Ives ? Major 
 Chevenix would recognise me if he met me ; that was be- 
 yond bargaining : he had seen me so often, his interest 
 had been kindled to so high a point, that I could hope to 
 deceive him by no stratagem of disguise. Well, even so ; 
 he would have a competition of testimony before him : he 
 knew Clausel, he knew me, and I was sure he would de- 
 cide for honour. At the same time, the image of Flora 
 shot up in my mind's eye with such a radiancy as fairly 
 overwhelmed all other considerations ; the blood sprang to 
 every corner of my body, and I vowed I would see and win 
 her, if it cost my neck. 
 
 "Very annoying, no doubt," said I, as I returned the 
 paper to Mr. Romaine. 
 
 " Is annoying your word for it ? " said he. 
 
 "Exasperating, if you like," I admitted. 
 
 *' And true ? " he inquired.
 
 MR. ROMAINE CALLS ME NAMES 189 
 
 *'Well, true in a sense/' said I. ''But perhaps I had 
 better answer that question by putting you in possession 
 of the facts ? " 
 
 " I think so, indeed/' said he. 
 
 I narrated to him as much as §eemed necessary of the 
 quarrel, the duel, the death of Goguelat, and the character 
 of Clausel. He heard me through in a forbidding silence, 
 nor did he at all betray the nature of his sentiments, except 
 that, at the episode of the scissors, I could observe his 
 mulberry face to turn three shades paler. 
 
 *'I suppose I may believe you ?" said he, when I had 
 done. 
 
 " Or else conclude this interview," said I. 
 
 " Can you not understand that we are here discussing 
 matters of the gravest import ? Can you not understand 
 that I feel myself weighed with a load of responsibility on 
 your account — that you should take this occasion to air 
 your fire-eating manners against your own attorney ? 
 There are serious hours in life, Mr. Anne," he said se- 
 verely. '' A capital charge, and that of a very brutal charac- 
 ter and with singularly unpleasant details ; the presence of 
 the man Clausel, who (according to your account of it) is 
 actuated by sentiments of real malignity, and prepared to 
 swear black white ; all the other witnesses scattered and 
 perhaps drowned at sea ; the natural prejudice against a 
 Frenchman and a runaway prisoner : this makes a serious 
 total for your lawyer to consider, and is by no means les- 
 sened by the incurable folly and levity of your own dispo- 
 sition." 
 
 " I beg your pardon ! " said I. 
 
 " 0, my expressions have been selected with scrupn- 
 lons accuracy," he replied. " How did I find you, sir, 
 when I came to announce this catastrophe ? You were 
 sitting on the hearthrug playing, like a silly baby, with a
 
 190 ST. IVES 
 
 servaPit, were yon not, and the floor all scattered with gold 
 and bank paper ? There was a tableau for you ! It was I 
 who came, and you were lucky in that. It might have 
 been any one — your cousin as well as another." 
 
 *' You have me there, sir," I admitted. " I had neg- 
 lected all precautions, and you do right to be angry. 
 Apropos, Mr. Eomaine, how did you come yourself, and 
 how long have you been in the house ?" I added, surjirised, 
 on the retrospect, not to have heard liim arrive. 
 
 " I drove up in a chaise and j^air," he returned. ** Any 
 one might have heard me. But you were not listening, I 
 suppose ? being so extremely at your ease in the very 
 house of your enemy, and under a capital charge ! And 
 I have been long enough here to do your business for you. 
 Ah, yes, I did it, God forgive me ! — did it before I so 
 much as asked you the explanation of the paragraph. For 
 some time back the will has been jirepared ; now it is 
 signed ; and your uncle has heard nothing of your recent 
 piece of activity. Why ? Well, I had no fancy to bother 
 him on his death-bed: you might be innocent; and at 
 bottom I preferred the murderer to the spy." 
 
 No doubt of it but the man played a friendly part ; no 
 doubt also that, in his ill-temper and anxiety, he expressed 
 himself unpalatably. 
 
 "You will perhaps find me over-delicate," said I. 
 ''There is a word you employed " • 
 
 " I employ the words of my brief, sir," he cried, strik- 
 ing with his hand on the newspaper. *' It is there in six 
 letters. And do not be so certain — you have not stood 
 your trial yet. It is an ugly affair, a fishy business. It 
 is highly disagreeable. I would give my hand off — I mean 
 I would give a hundred pound down, to have nothing to 
 do with it. And, situated as we are, we must at once take 
 action. There is here no choice. You must first of all
 
 MR. EOMAINE CALLS ME NAMES 191 
 
 quit this country, and get to France, or Holland, or, in- 
 deed, to Madagascar.'' 
 
 " There may be two words to that," said I.. 
 
 ^'Xot so much as one syllable!'' he retorted. ''Here 
 is no room for argument. The case is nakedly plain. In 
 the disgusting position in which you have found means to 
 place yourself, all that is to be hoped for is delay. A time 
 may come when we shall be able to do better. It cannot 
 be now : now it would be the gibbet." 
 
 " Yon labour under a false impression, Mr. Eomaine," 
 said I. ''I have no impatience to figure in the dock. I 
 am even as anxious as yourself to postpone my first ap- 
 pearance there. On the other hand, I have not the slight- 
 est intention of leaving this country, where I please my- 
 self extremely. I have a good address, a ready tongue, an 
 English accent that passes, and, thanks to the generos- 
 ity of my uncle, as much money as I want. It would be 
 hard indeed if, with all these advantages, Mr. St. Ives 
 should not be able to live quietly in a private lodging, 
 while the authorities amuse themselves by looking for 
 Champdivers. You forget, there is no connection between 
 these two personages." 
 
 " And you forget your cousin," retorted Romaine. 
 " There is the link. There is the tongue of the buckle. 
 He knows you are Champdivers." He put up his hand as 
 if to listen. " And, for a wager, here he is himself ! " he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 As when a tailor takes a piece of goods upon his counter, 
 and rends it across, there came to our ears from the avenue 
 the long tearing sound of a chaise and four approaching 
 at the top speed of the horses. And, looking out between 
 the curtains, we beheld the lamps skimming on the smooth 
 ascent. 
 
 " Ay," said Romaine, wiping the window-pane that he
 
 192 ST. lYES 
 
 might see more clearly. " Ay, that is he, by the driving ! 
 So he squanders money along the king's highway, the 
 triple idiot ! gorging every man he meets with gold for 
 the pleasure of arriving — where ? Ah, yes, where but a 
 debtor's jail, if not a criminal prison ! " 
 
 " Is he that kind of a man ?'' I asked, staring on these 
 lamps as though I could decijsher in them the secret of my 
 cousin's character. 
 
 **You will find him a dangerous kind,'' answered the 
 lawyer. " For you, these are the lights on a lee shore ! I 
 find I fall in a muse when I consider of him ; what a for- 
 midable being he once was, and what a j^ersouable ! and 
 how near he draws to the moment that must break him 
 utterly ! AVe none of us like him here ; we hate him, 
 rather ; and yet I have a sense — I don't think at my time 
 of life it can be pity — but a reluctance rather, to break 
 anything so big and figurative, as though he were a big 
 porcelain pot or a big picture of high price. Ay, there is 
 wliat I was waiting for ! " he cried, as the lights of a sec- 
 ond chaise swam in sight. ** It is he beyond a doubt. The 
 first was the signature and the next the flourish. Two 
 chaises, the second following with the baggage, which is 
 always copious and ponderous, and one of his valets : ne 
 cannot go a step without a valet." 
 
 " I hear you repeat the word big," said I. ** But it 
 cannot be that he is anything out of the way in stature." 
 
 "■ No," said the attorney. *' About your height, as 1 
 guessed for the tailors, and I see nothing wrong with the 
 result. But, somehow, he commands an atmosphere ; he 
 has a spacious manner ; and he has kept up, all through 
 life, such a volume of racket about his personality, with 
 his chaises and his racers and his dicings, and I know not 
 what — that somehow he imposes ! It seems, when the 
 farce is done, and he locked in the Fleet prison — and no
 
 MR. ROMAINE CALLS ME NAMES 193 
 
 body left but Bonaparte and Lord Wellington and the 
 Hetman Platoff to make a work about — the world will be 
 ir\ a comparison quite tranquil. But this is beside t'se 
 mark/' he added, with an effort, turning again from the 
 window. " We are now under fire, Mr. Anne, as you 
 soldiers would say, and it is high time we should prepare 
 to go into action. He must not see you ; that would be 
 fatal. All that he knows at present is that you resemble 
 him, and that is much more than enough. If it were pos- 
 sible, it would be well he should not know you were in the 
 house.'* 
 
 " Quite impossible, depend upon it," said I. " Some of 
 the servants are directly in his interests, perhaps in his 
 pay : Dawson, for an example." 
 
 " My own idea ! " cried Romaine. " And at least," he 
 added, as the first of the chaises drew up with a dash in 
 front of the portico, " it is now too late. Here he is." 
 
 We stood listening, with a strange anxiety, to the vari- 
 ous noises that awoke in the silent house : the sound of 
 doors opening and closing, the sound of feet near at hand 
 and farther off. It was plain the arrival of my cousin was 
 a matter of moment, almost of parade, to the household. 
 And suddenly, out of this confused and distant bustle, a 
 rapid and light tread became distinguishable. We heard 
 it come upstairs, draw near along the corridor, pause at the 
 door, and a stealthy and hasty rapping succeeded. 
 
 " Mr. Anne — Mr. Anne, sir ! Let me in I " said the 
 voice of Eowley. 
 
 We admitted the lad, and locked the door again behind 
 him. 
 
 *' It's liim, sir,'* he panted. " He've come." 
 
 ** You mean the Viscount ? " said I. " So we supposed. 
 But come, Rowlev — out with the rest of it I You have 
 more to tell us, or your face b-^Iies fou I " 
 
 »
 
 194 ST. IVES 
 
 '* Mr. Anne, I do/' he said. " Mr. Romaine, sir, you're 
 a friend of his, ain't yon ? " 
 
 *' Yes, George, I am a friend of his," said Romaine; 
 an:;?, to my great surprise, laid his hand uj)on my slioulder. 
 Well, it's this way," said Rowley — "Mr. Fowl have 
 been at me ! It's to play the spy ! I thought he was at 
 it from the first ! From the first I see what he was 
 after — coming round and round, and hinting things ! But 
 to-night he outs with it plump ! I'm to let him hear all 
 what you're to do beforehand, he says ; and he give me 
 this for an arnest " — holding up half a guinea; *'aud I 
 took it, so I did ! Strike me sky-blue scarlet ! " says he, 
 adducing the words of the n.ock oath ; and he looked 
 askance at me as he did so. 
 
 I saw that he had forgotten himself, and that he knew 
 it. The expression of his eye changed almost in the pass- 
 ing of the glance from the significant to the appealing — 
 from the look of an accomplice to that of a culprit ; and 
 from that moment he became the model of a well-drilled 
 valet. 
 
 '' Sky-blue scarlet ? " repeated the lawyer. " Is the fool 
 delirious ? " 
 
 " No,'* said I ; " he is only reminding me of some- 
 thing." 
 
 " AVell — and I believe the fellow will be faithful," said 
 Romaine. " So you are a friend of Mr. Anne's, too V he 
 added to Rowley. 
 
 " If you please, sir," said Rowley. 
 
 "'Tis something sudden," observed Romaine; "but it 
 may be genuine enough. I believe him to be honest. He 
 comes of honest people. Well, George Rowley, you might 
 embrace some early opportunity to earn that half-guinea, 
 by telling Mr. Fowl that your master will not leave here 
 till noon to-morrow, if he go even then. Tell him there
 
 MR. ROMAINE CALLS ME NAMES 195 
 
 are a hundred things to be done here, and a hundred more 
 that can only be done properly at my office in Holborn. 
 Come to think of it — we had better see to that first of all," 
 he went on, unlocking the door. " Get hold of Fowl, and 
 see. And be quick back, and clear me up this mess." 
 
 Mr. Rowley was no sooner gone than the lawyer took a 
 pinch of snuff, and regarded me with somewhat of a more 
 genial expression. 
 
 " Sir,'' said he, " it is very fortunate for you that your 
 face is so strong a letter of recommendation. Here am I, 
 a tough old practitioner, mixing myself up with your very 
 distressing business ; and here is this farmer's lad, who has 
 the wit to take a bribe and the loyalty to come and tell you 
 of it — all, I take it, on the strength of your appearance. 
 I wish I could imagine how it would impress a jury ! " 
 says he. 
 
 " And how it would affect the hangman, sir ? " I asked. 
 
 " Alsit omen!" said Mr. Eomaine devoutly. 
 
 We were just so far in our talk, when I heard a sound 
 that brought my heart into my mouth : the sound of some 
 one slyly trying the handle of the door. It had been pre- 
 ceded by no audible footstep. Since the departure of Row- 
 ley our wing of the house had been entirely silent. And 
 we had every right to suppose ourselves alone, and to con- 
 clude that the new-comar, whoever he might be, was come 
 on a clandestine, if not a hostile, errand. 
 
 '' Who is there ? " asked Romaine. 
 
 " It's only me, sir," said the soft voice of Dawson. ^' It's 
 the Viscount, sir. He is very desirous to speak with you 
 on business." 
 
 *' Tell him I shall come shortlj^ Dawson," said the law- 
 yer. ** I am at present engaged." 
 
 *' Thank you, sir ! " said Dawson. 
 
 And we heard his feet draw off slowly along the corridor
 
 196 ST. IVES 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Komaine, speaking low, and maintain- 
 ing the attitude of one intently listening, " there is another 
 foot. I cannot be deceived ! " 
 
 "I think there was indeed!" said I. ''And what 
 troubles me — I am not sure that the other has gone en- 
 tirely away. By the time it got the length of the head of 
 the stair the tread was plainly single." 
 " Ahem— blockaded ? " asked the lawyer. 
 *' A siege en regie ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Let us come farther from the door," said Romaine, 
 **and reconsider this damnable position. Without doubt, 
 Alain was this moment at the door. He hoped to enter 
 and get a view of you, as if by accident. Baffled in this, 
 has he stayed himself, or has he planted Dawson here by 
 way of sentinel ? " 
 
 " Himself, beyond a doubt," said I. "And yet to what 
 end ? He cannot think to pass the night there ! " 
 
 " If it were only possible to pay no heed ! " said Mr. Ro- 
 maine. " But this is the accursed drawback of your posi- 
 tion. We can do nothing openly. I must smuggle you 
 out of this room and out of this house like seizable goods ; 
 and how am I to set about it with a sentinel planted at 
 your very door ? " 
 
 " There is no good in being agitated," said I. 
 " None at all," he acquiesced. " And, come to think of 
 it, it is droll enough that I should have been that very 
 moment commenting on your personal appearance, when 
 your cousin came upon this mission. I was saying, if you 
 remember, that your face was as good or better than a let- 
 ter of recommendation. I wonder if M. Alain would be 
 like the rest of us— I wonder what he would think of 
 it?'" 
 
 Mr. Romaine was sitting in a chair by the fire with his 
 back to the windows, and I was myself kneeling on th©
 
 MK. KOMAINE CALLS ME NAMES 197 
 
 hearthrug and beginning meclianically to pick np the scat- 
 tered bills, when a honeyed voice joined suddenly in our 
 conversation. 
 
 " He thinks well of it, Mr. Romaine. He begs to join 
 himself to that circle of admirers which you indicate to ex- 
 ist already.*'
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE DEVIL AND ALL AT AMERSHAM PLACB 
 
 Never did two human creatures get to their feet with 
 more alacrity than the lawyer and myself. We had locked 
 and barred the main gates of the citadel ; but unhappily 
 we had left open the bath-room sally-port ; and here we 
 found the voice of the hostile trumpets sounding from 
 within, and all our defences taken in reverse. I took but 
 the time to whisper Mr. Eomaine in the ear : " Here is 
 another tableau for you ! " at which he looked at me a mo- 
 ment with a kind of pathos, as who should say, ''Don't 
 hit a man when he's down.'' Then I transferred my eyes 
 to my enemy. 
 
 He had his hat on, a little on one side : it was a very tall 
 hat, raked extremely, and had a narrow curling brim. His 
 hair was all curled out in masses like an Italian mounte- 
 bank — a most unpardonable fashion. He sported a huge 
 tippeted overcoat of frieze, such as watchmen wear, only 
 the inside was lined with costly furs, and he kept it half 
 open to display the exquisite linen, the many-coloured 
 waistcoat, and the profuse jewellery of watch-chains and 
 brooches underneath. The leg and the ankle were turned 
 to a miracle. It is out of the question that I should deny 
 the resemblance altogether, since it has been remarked by 
 so many different persons whom I cannot reasonably ac- 
 cuse of a conspiracy. As a matter of fact, I saw little of 
 it and confessed to nothing. Certainly he was what some 
 
 198
 
 DEVIL AND ALL AT AMERSHAM PLACE 199 
 
 might call handsome, of a pictorial, exuberant style of 
 beauty, all attitude, profile, and impudence : a man whom 
 I could see in fancy parade on the grand stand at a race- 
 meeting, or swagger in Piccadilly, staring down the women, 
 and stared at himself with admiration by the coal-porters. 
 Of his frame of mind at that moment his face offered a 
 lively if an unconscious picture. He was lividly pale, and 
 his lip was caught up in a smile that could almost be called 
 a snarl, of a sheer, arid malignity that appalled me and 
 yet put me on my mettle for the encounter. He looked 
 me up and down, then bowed and took off his hat to me. 
 
 " My cousin, I presume ? " he said. 
 
 " I understand I have that honour," I replied. 
 
 " The honour is mine," said he, and his voice shook as 
 he said it. 
 
 ''I should make you welcome, I believe," said I. 
 
 '' Why ? " he inquired. " This poor house has been my 
 home for longer than I care to claim. That you should 
 already take upon yourself the duties of host here is to 
 be at unnecessary pains. Believe me, that part would be 
 more becomingly mine. And, by the way, I must not 
 fail to offer you my little compliment. It is a gratifying 
 surprise to meet you in the dress of a gentleman, and 
 to see" — with a circular look upon the scattered bills — 
 " that your necessities have already been so liberally re- 
 lieved." 
 
 I bowed with a smile that was perhaps no less hateful 
 than his own. 
 
 ''There are so many necessities in this world,** said I^ 
 " Charity has to choose. One gets relieved, and some 
 other, no less indigent, perhaps indebted, must go want- 
 mg." 
 
 " Malice is an engaging trait," said he. 
 
 " And envy, I think ? " was my reply.
 
 200 ST. IVES 
 
 He must have felt that he was not getting wholly the 
 better of this passage at arms ; perhaps even feared that 
 he should lose command of his temper, which he reined in 
 throughout the interview as with a red-hot curb, for he 
 flung away from me at the word, and addressed the law- 
 yer with insulting arrogance. 
 
 *'Mr. Eoraaine,'' he said, "since when have you pre- 
 sumed to give orders in this house ? " 
 
 " I am not prepared to admit that I have given any," 
 replied Romaine ; " certainly none that did not fall in the 
 sphere of my responsibilities." 
 
 " By whose orders, then, am I denied entrance to my 
 uncle's room ? " said my cousin. 
 
 " By the doctor's, sir," replied Romaine ; " and I think 
 even you will admit his faculty to give them." 
 
 " Have a care, sir," cried Alain. " Do not be puffed 
 up with your position. It is none so secure, Master At- 
 torney. I should not wonder in the least if you were 
 struck off the rolls for this night's work, and the next 
 I should see of you were when I flung you alms at a 
 pothouse door to mend your ragged elbows. The doctor's 
 orders ? But I believe I am not mistaken ! You have 
 to-night transacted business with the Count ; and this 
 needy young gentleman has enjoyed the privilege of still 
 another interview, in which (as I am pleased to see) his 
 dignity has not prevented his doing very well for himself. 
 I wonder that you should care to prevaricate with me so 
 idly." 
 
 " I will confess so much," said Mr. Romaine, " if you 
 call it prevarication. The order in question emanated 
 from the Count himself. He does not wish to see you." 
 
 " For which I must take the word of Mr. Daniel Ro- 
 maine ? " asked Alain. 
 
 ** In default of any better," said Romaine.
 
 DEVIL AND ALL AT AMEESHAM PLACE 201 
 
 There was an instantaneous convulsion in my cousin's 
 face, and I distinctly heard him gnash his teeth at this 
 rej^ly ; but, to my surprise, he resumed in tones of almost 
 good humour : 
 
 " Come, Mr. Eomaine, do not let us be petty ! '' He 
 drew in a chair and sat down. " Understand you have 
 stolen a march upon me. You have introduced your sol- 
 dier of Napoleon, and (how, I cannot conceive) he has 
 been apparently accepted with favour. I ask no better 
 proof than the funds with which I find him literally sur- 
 rounded — I presume in consequence of some extravagance 
 of joy at the first sight of so much money. The odds are 
 so far in your favour, but the match is not yet won. 
 Questions will arise of undue influence, of sequestration, 
 and the like : I have my witnesses ready. I tell it you 
 cynically, for you cannot profit by the knowledge ; and, if 
 the worst come to the worst, I have good hopes of recover- 
 ing my own and of ruining you.'' 
 
 *'You do what you please," answered Eomaine; ''but 
 I give it you for a piece of good advice, you had best do 
 nothing in the matter. You will only make yourself ri- 
 diculous ; you will only squander money, of which you 
 have none too much, and reap public mortification." 
 
 " Ah, but there you make the common mistake, Mr. 
 Romaine ! " returned Alain. " You despise your adver- 
 sary. Consider, if you please, how very disagreeable I 
 could make myself, if I chose. Consider the position of 
 your protege — an escaped prisoner ! But I play a great 
 game. I contemn such petty opportunities." 
 
 At this Romaine and I exchanged a glance of triumph. 
 It seemed manifest that Alain had as yet received no word 
 of Clausel's recapture and denunciation. At the same 
 moment the lawyer, thus relieved of the instancy of his 
 fear, changed his tactics. With a great air of unconcern.
 
 202 ST. IVES 
 
 he secured the newspaper, which still lay open before him 
 on the table. 
 
 " I think, Monsieur Alain, that you labour under some 
 illusion," said he. " Believe me, this is all beside the 
 mark. You seem to be jDointing to some compromise. 
 I^othing is further from my views. You suspect me of 
 an inclination to trifle with you, to conceal how things qxq 
 going. I cannot, on the other hand, be too early or too 
 explicit in giving you information which concerns you (I 
 must say) capitally. Your great-uncle has to-night can- 
 celled his will, and made a new one in favour of your 
 cousin Anne. Nay, and you shall hear it from his own 
 lips, if you choose ! I will take so much upon me," said 
 the lawyer, rising. " Follow me, if you please, gentlemen." 
 
 Mr. Romaine led the way out of the room so briskly, 
 and was so briskly followed by Alain, that I had hard ado 
 to get the remainder of the money replaced and the de- 
 spatch-box locked, and to overtake them, even by run- 
 ning, ere they should be lost in that maze of corridors, my 
 uncle's house. As it was, I went with a heart divided ; 
 and the thought of my treasure thus left unprotected, 
 save by a paltry lid and lock that any one might break or 
 pick open, put me in a perspiration whenever I had the 
 time to remember it. The lawyer brought us to a room, 
 begged us to be seated while he should hold a consultation 
 with the doctor, and, slipping out of another door, left 
 Alain and myself closeted together. 
 
 Truly he had done nothing to ingratiate himself ; his 
 every word had been steeped in unfriendliness, envy, and 
 that contempt which (as it is born of anger) it is possible 
 to support without humiliation. On my part, I had been 
 little more conciliating ; and yet I began to be sorry for 
 this man, hired spy as I knew him to be. It seemed to 
 me less than decent that he should have been brought up
 
 DEVIL AND ALL AT AMERSHAM PLACE 203 
 
 in the expectation of this great inheritance, and now, at 
 the eleventh hour, be tumbled forth out of the house door 
 and left to himself, his poverty and his debts — those debts 
 of which I had so ungallantly reminded him so short a 
 time before. And we were scarce left alone ere I made 
 haste to hang out a flag of truce. 
 
 "My cousin,'^ said I, "trust me, you will not find me 
 inclined to be your enemy." 
 
 He paused in front of me — for he had not accepted the 
 lawyers invitation to be seated, but walked to and fro in 
 the apartment — took a pinch of snuff, and looked at me 
 while he was taking it with an air of much curiosity. 
 
 " Is it even so ? " said he. " Am I so far favoured by 
 fortune as to have your j)ity ? Infinitely obliged, my 
 cousin Anne ! But these sentiments are not always re- 
 ciprocal, and I warn you that the day when I set my foot 
 on your neck, the spine shall break. Are you acquainted 
 with the properties of the spine ? " he asked, with an in- 
 solence beyond qualification. 
 
 It was too much. " I am acquainted also with the prop- 
 erties of a pair of pistols," said I, toising him. 
 
 " No, no, no \" says he, holding up his finger. " I will 
 take my revenge how and when I please. We are enough 
 of the same family to understand each other, perhaps ; and 
 the reason why I have not had you arrested on your arri- 
 val, why I had not a picket of soldiers in the first clump 
 of evergreens, to await and prevent your coming — I, who 
 knew all, before whom that pettifogger, Eomaine, has been 
 conspiring in broad daylight to supplant me — is simply 
 this : that I had not made up my mind how I was to take 
 my revenge." 
 
 At that moment he was interrupted by the tolling of a 
 bell. As we stood surprised and listening, it was succeeded 
 by the sound of many feet trooping up the stairs and shuf-
 
 204 ST. IVES 
 
 fling by the door of our room. Both, I believe, had a 
 great curiosity to set it open, which each, owing to the 
 presence of the other, resisted ; and we waited instead in 
 silence, and without moving, until Romaine returned and 
 bade us to my uncle's presence. 
 
 He led the way by a little crooked passage, which brought 
 us out in the sick-room, and behind the bed. I believe I 
 have forgotten to remark that the Count's chamber was of 
 considerable dimensions. We beheld it now crowded with 
 the servants and dependants of the house, from the doctor 
 and the priest to Mr. Dawson and the housekeeper, from 
 Dawson down to Rowley and the last footman in white 
 calves, the last plump chambermaid in her clean gown and 
 cap, and the last ostler in a stable waistcoat. This large 
 congregation of persons (and I was surprised to see how 
 large it was) had the appearance, for the most part, of be- 
 ing ill at ease and heartily bewildered, standing on one 
 foot, gaping like zanies, and those who were in the corners 
 nudging each other and grinning aside. My uncle, on the 
 other hand, who was raised higher than I had yet seen him 
 on his pillows, wore an air of really imposing gravity. No 
 sooner had we appeared behind him, than he lifted his 
 voice to a good loudness, and addressed the assemblage. 
 
 " I take you all to witness — can you hear me ? — I take 
 you all to witness that I recognise as my heir and repre- 
 sentative this gentleman, whom most of you see for the 
 first time, the Viscount Anne de St. -Yves, my nephew of 
 the younger line. And I take you to witness at the same 
 time that, for very good reasons known to myself, I have 
 discarded and disinherited this other gentleman whom you 
 all know, the Viscount de St. -Yves. I have also to ex- 
 plain the unusual trouble to which I have put you all — 
 and, since your supper was not over, I fear I may even say 
 annoyance. It has pleased M. Alain to make some threats
 
 DEVIL AND ALL AT AMERSHAM PLACE 205 
 
 of disputing my will, and to pretend tliat there are among 
 yonr number certain estimable persons who may be trusted 
 to swear as he shall direct them. It pleases me thus to 
 put it out of his power and to stop the mouths of his false 
 witnesses. I am infinitely obliged by your politeness, and 
 I have the honour to wish you all a very good evening. *' 
 
 As the servants, still greatly mystified, crowded out of 
 the sick-room door, curtseying, pulling the forelock, scrap- 
 ing with the foot, and so on, according to their degree, I 
 turned and stole a look at my cousin. He had borne this 
 crushing public rebuke without change of countenance. 
 He stood, now, very upright, with folded arms, and look- 
 ing inscrutably at the roof of the apartment. I could 
 not refuse him at that moment the tribute of my admira- 
 tion. Still more so when, the last of the domestics hav- 
 ing filed through the doorway and left us alone with my 
 great- uncle and the lawyer, he took one step forward tow- 
 ards the bed, made a dignified reverence, and addressed 
 the man who had just condemned him to ruin. 
 
 *'My lord,^' said he, "'you are pleased to treat me in a 
 manner which my gratitude, and your state, equally forbid 
 me to call in question. It will be only necessary for me 
 to call your attention to the length of time in which I 
 have been taught to regard myself as your heir. In that 
 position, I judged it only loyal to permit myself a certain 
 scale of expenditure. If I am now to be cut off with a 
 shilling as the reward of twenty years of service, I shall be 
 left not only a beggar, but a bankrupt.^' 
 
 Whether from the fatigue of his recent exertion, or by 
 a well-inspired ingenuity of hate, my uncle had once more 
 closed his eyes ; nor did he open them now. " Not with 
 a shilling,^' he contented himself with replying , and there 
 stole, as ke said it, a sort of smile over his face, that flick- 
 ered there conspicuously for the least moment of time, and
 
 206 ST. IVES 
 
 then faded and left behind the old impenetrable mask of 
 years, cunning, and fatigue. There could be no mistake : 
 my uncle enjoyed the situation as he had enjoyed few 
 things in the last quarter of a century. The fires of life 
 scarce survived in that frail body ; but hatred, like some 
 immortal quality, was still erect and unabated. 
 
 Nevertheless my cousin persevered. 
 
 *' I speak at a disadvantage," he resumed. " My sup- 
 planter, with perhaps more wisdom than delicacy, remains 
 in the room," and he cast a glance at me that might have 
 withered an oak tree. 
 
 I was only too willing to withdraw, and Romaine showed 
 as much alacrity to make way for my departure. But my 
 uncle was not to be moved. In the same breath of a voice, 
 and still without opening his eyes, he bade me remain. 
 
 " It is well," said Alain. " I cannot then go on to remind 
 you of the twenty years that have passed over our heads 
 in England, and the services I may have rendered you in 
 that time. It would be a position too odious. Your lord- 
 ship knows me too well to suppose I could stoop to such 
 ignominy. I must leave out all my defence — your lordship 
 wills it so ! I do not know what are my faults ; I know 
 only my punishment, and it is greater than I have the 
 courage to face. My uncle, I implore your pity : pardon 
 me so far ; do not send me for life into a debtors' jail — a 
 pauper debtor." 
 
 *' Chat et vieux, pardo7inez 9 " said my uncle, quoting 
 from La Fontaine ; and then, opening a pale-blue eye full 
 on Alain, he delivered with some emphasis : 
 
 " La jeunesse sc flatte et croit tout obtenir; 
 La vieillesse est impitoyable." 
 
 The blood leaped darkly into Alain's face. He turned 
 to Romaine and me, and his eyes flashed.
 
 DEYIL AND ALL AT AMERSHAM PLACE 207 
 
 **It is your turn now," he said. " At least it shall be 
 prison for prison with the two viscounts." 
 
 " Not so, Mr. Alain, by your leave," said Romaine. 
 " There are a few formalities to be considered first." 
 
 But Alain was already striding towards the door. 
 
 *'Stop a moment, stop a moment !" cried Eomaine. 
 *' Remember your own counsel not to despise an adversary." 
 
 Alain turned. 
 
 ''If I do not despise I hate you ! " he cried, giving a 
 loose to his passion. '' Be warned of that, both of you." 
 
 " I understand you to threaten Monsieur le Vicomte 
 Anne," said the lawyer. " Do you know, 1 would not do 
 that. I am afraid, I am very much afraid, if you were 
 to do as you propose, you migiit drive me into extremes." 
 
 " You have made me a beggar and a bankrupt," said 
 Alain. " What extreme is left ? " 
 
 " I scarce like to put a name upon it in this company," 
 replied Romaine. " But there are worse things than even 
 bankruptcy, and worse places than a debtors' jail." 
 
 The words were so significantly said that there went a 
 visible thrill through Alain ; sudden as a swordstroke, he 
 fell pale again. 
 
 " I do not understand you," said he. 
 
 ''0 yes, you do," returned Romaine. ''I believe you 
 understand me very well. You must not suppose that all 
 this time, while you were so very busy, others were en- 
 tirely idle. You must not fancy, because I am an Eng- 
 lishman, that I have not the intelligence to pursue an in- 
 quiry. Great as is my regard for the honour of your 
 house, M. Alain de St. -Yves, if I hear of you moving 
 directly or indirectly in this matter, I shall do my duty, 
 let it cost what it will : that is, I shall communicate the 
 real name of the Buonapartist spy who signs his letters 
 Rue Gregoire de Tours."
 
 208 ST. IVES 
 
 I confess my heart was already almost altogether on the 
 side of my insulted and nnhappy cousin ; and if it had not 
 been before, it must have been so now, so horrid was the 
 shock with which he heard his infamy exposed. Speech 
 was denied him ; he carried his hand to his neckcloth ; he 
 staggered ; I thought he must have fallen. I ran to help 
 him, and at that he revived, recoiled before me, and stood 
 there with arms stretched forth as if to preserve himself 
 from the outrage of my touch. 
 
 *' Hands oil ! " he somehow managed to articulate. 
 
 *' You will now, I hope," pursued the lawyer, without 
 any change of voice, "understand the position in which 
 you are placed, and how delicately it behoves you to con- 
 duct yourself. Your arrest hangs, if I may so express my- 
 self, by a hair ; and as you will be under the perpetual 
 vigilance of myself and my agents, you must look to it 
 narrowly that you walk straight. Upon the least dubiety, 
 I will take action." He snulfed, looking critically at the 
 tortured man. '' And now let me remind you that your 
 chaise is at the door. This interview is agitating to his 
 lordship— it cannot be agi-eeable for you— and I suggest 
 that it need not be further drawn out. It does not enter 
 into the views of your uncle, the Count, that you should 
 again sleep under this roof." 
 
 As Alain turned and passed without a word or a sign 
 from the apartment, I instantly followed. I suppose I 
 must be at bottom possessed of some humanity ; at least, 
 this accumulated torture, this slow butchery of a man as 
 by quarters of rock, had wholly changed my sympathies. 
 At that moment I loathed both my uncle and the lawyer 
 for their cold-blooded cruelty. 
 
 Leaning over the banisters, I was but in time to hear 
 his hasty footsteps in that hall that had been crowded with 
 servants to honour his coming, and was now left empty
 
 DEVIL AND ALL AT AMERSHAM PLACE 209 
 
 against his friendless departure. A moment later, and th& 
 echoes rang and the air whistled in my ears, as he slammed 
 the door on his departing footsteps. The fury of the con- 
 cussion gave me (had one been still wanted) a measure of 
 the turmoil of his passions. In a sense, I felt with him ; 
 I felt how he would have gloried to slam that door on my 
 uncle, the lawyer, myself, and the whole crowd of those 
 "who had been witnesses to his humiliation. 
 
 U
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 AFTER THE STORM 
 
 No sooner was the house clear of my cousin, than I be- 
 gan to reckon np, ruefully enough, the probable results of 
 Avhat had passed. Here were a number of pots broken, 
 and it looked to me as if I should have to pay for all ! 
 Here had been this proud, mad beast goaded and baited 
 both publicly and privately, till he could neither hear nor 
 see nor reason ; whereupon the gate had been set open, and 
 he had been left free to go and contrive whatever ven- 
 geance he might find possible. I could not help thinking 
 it was a pity that, whenever I myself was inclined to be 
 upon my good behaviour, some friends of mine should 
 always determine to play a piece of heroics and cast me for 
 the hero — or the victim — which is very much the same. 
 The first duty of heroics is to be of your own choosing. 
 When they are not that, they are nothing. And I assure 
 you, as I walked back to my own room, I was in no very 
 complaisant humour : thought my uncle and Mr. Ro- 
 naine to have played knuckle-bones with my life and 
 prospects ; cursed them for it roundly ; had no wish more 
 urgent than to avoid the pair of them ; and was quite 
 knocked out of time, as they say in the ring, to find myself 
 confronted with the lawyer. 
 
 He stood on my hearthrug, leaning on the chimney- 
 piece, with a gloomy, thoughtful brow, as I was pleased to 
 see, and not in the least as though he were vain of the late 
 proceedings. 
 
 210
 
 AFTER THE STORM 211 
 
 " Well ? '' said I. " Yon have done it, now ! " 
 
 *' Is he gone ? " he asked. 
 
 " He is gone/' said I. " We shall have the devil to pay 
 with him when he comes back.'' 
 
 "Yon are right/' said the lawyer, "and very little t( 
 pay him with but flams and fabrications, like to-night's/' 
 
 " To-night's ?" I repeated. 
 
 ** Ay, to-night's ! " said he. 
 
 " To-night's ^vhat 9 " I cried. 
 
 " To-night's flams and fabrications.'* 
 
 " God be good to me, sir," said I, " have I something 
 more to admire in your conduct than ever / had sus- 
 pected ? You cannot think how you interest me ! That 
 it was severe, I knew ; I had already chuckled over that. 
 But that it should be false also '. In what sense, Uear 
 sir ? " 
 
 I believe I was extremely offensive as I put the question, 
 but the lawyer paid no heed. 
 
 " False in all senses of the word," he rej)lied, seriously. 
 " False in the sense that they were not true,. and false in 
 the sense that they were not real ; false in the sense that I 
 boasted, and in the sense that I lied. How can I arrest 
 him ? Your uncle burned the papers ! I told you so — but 
 doubtless you have forgotten — the day I first saw you in 
 Edinlvrgh Castle. It was an act of generosity ; I have 
 seeu many of these acts, and always regretted — always re- 
 gretted ! ' That shall be his inheritance,' he said, as the 
 papers burned ; he did not mean that it should have 
 proved so rich a one. How rich, time will tell." 
 
 " I beg your pardon a hundred thousand times, my dear 
 sir, but it strikes me you have the impudence — in the cir- 
 cumstances, I may call it the indecency — to appear cast 
 down ? " 
 
 "It is true," said he : " I am. I am cast down. I am
 
 212 ST. IVES 
 
 literally cast down. I feel myself quite helpless against 
 your cousin." 
 
 " Now, really ! " I asked. " Is this serious ? And is it 
 perhaps the reason why you have gorged the poor devil 
 with every species of insult ? and why you took such sur- 
 prising pains to supply me with what I had so little need 
 of — another enemy ? That you were helpless against him? 
 * Here is my last missile/ say you ; ' my ammunition is 
 ■quite exhausted : just wait till I get the last in — it will 
 irritate, it cannot hurt him. There — you see ! — he is furi- 
 ous now, and I am quite helpless. One more prod, an- 
 other kick : now he is a mere lunatic ! Stand behind me ; 
 I am quite helpless ! ' Mr. Romaine, I am asking myself 
 as to the background or motive of this singular jest, and 
 whether the name of it should not be called treachery V 
 
 " I can scarce wonder," said he. " In truth it has been 
 a singular business, and we are very fortunate to be out of 
 it so well. Yet it was not treachery : no, no, Mr. Anne, 
 it was not treachery ; and if you will do me the favour to 
 listen to me for the inside of a minute, I shall demonstrate 
 the same to you beyond cavil." He seemed to wake up to 
 his ordinary briskness. " You see the point ? " he began. 
 " He had not yet read the newspaper, but who could tell 
 when he might ? He might have had that damned jour- 
 nal in his pocket, and how should we know ? We were — 
 I may say, we are — at the mercy of the merest twopenny 
 accident." 
 
 " Why, true," said I : '^ had not thought of that." 
 
 " I warrant you," cried Romaine, " you had supposed it 
 was nothing to be the hero of an interesting notice in the 
 journals ! You had supposed, as like as not, it was a form 
 of secrecy ! But not so in the least. A part of England 
 is already buzzing with the name of Champdivers ; a day 
 or two more and the mail will have carried it everywhere :
 
 AFTER THE STORM 213 
 
 SO wonderful a machine is this of ours for disseminating 
 intelligence ! Think of it ! When my father was born 
 
 but that is another story. To return : we had here 
 
 the elements of such a combustion as I dread to think of 
 — your cousin and the journal. Let him but glance an 
 eye upon that column of print, and where were we ? It is 
 easy to ask ; not so easy to answer, my young friend. 
 And let me tell you, this sheet is the Viscount's usual 
 reading. It is my conviction he had it in his pocket." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said I. " I have been unjust. 
 I did not appreciate my danger." 
 
 " I think you never do," said he. 
 
 "But yet surely that public scene " I began. 
 
 " It was madness. I quite agree with you," Mr. Ro- 
 maine interrupted. "But it was your uncle's orders, Mr. 
 Anne, and what could I do ? Tell him you were the mur- 
 derer of Goguelat ? I think not." 
 
 "No, sure !" said I. "That would but have been to 
 make the trouble thicker. We were certainly in a very ill 
 posture." 
 
 " You do not yet appreciate how grave it was," he re- 
 plied. " It was necessary for you that your cousin should 
 go, and go at once. You yourself had to leave to-night 
 under cover of darkness, and how could you have done that 
 with the Viscount in the next room ? He must go, then ; 
 he must leave without delay. And that was the diffi- 
 culty." 
 
 ' ' Pardon me, Mr. Romaine, but could not my uncle 
 have bidden him go ? " I asked. 
 
 " Why, I see I must tell you that this is not so simple 
 as it sounds," he replied. "You say this is your uncle's 
 house, and so it is. But to all effects and purposes it is 
 your cousin's also. He has rooms here ; has had them 
 coming on for thirty years now, and they are filled with a
 
 214 ST. IVE3 
 
 prodigious accnmnlation of trash — stays, I daresay, and 
 powder-puffs, and such effeminate idiocy — to which none 
 could dispute his title, even suppose any one wanted to. 
 We had a perfect right to bid him go, and he had a per- 
 fect right to reply, ' Yes, I will go, but not without my 
 stays and cravats. I must first get together the nine-hun- 
 dred-and-ninety-nine chestsfuU of insufferable rubbish, 
 that I have spent the last thirty years collecting — and may 
 very well spend the next thirty hours a-packing of.^ And 
 what should we have said to that ?" 
 
 " By way of repartee ? " I asked. " Two tall footmen 
 and a pair of crabtree cudgels, I suggest.'' 
 
 " The lord deliver me from the wisdom of laymen ! " 
 cried Eomaine. "Put myself in the wrong at the begin- 
 ning of a law-suit ? No, indeed ! There was but one 
 thing to do, and I did it, and burned my last cartridge in 
 the doing of it. I stunned him. And it gave us three 
 hours, by which we should make haste to profit; for if 
 there is one thing sure, it is that he will be up to time again 
 to-morrow in the morning.'' 
 
 "Well," said I, "I own myself an idiot. Well do they 
 say, an old soldier, an old innocent ! For I guessed noth- 
 ing of all this." 
 
 '' And, guessing it, have you the same objections to leave 
 England ? " he inquired. 
 
 "The same," said I. 
 
 " It is indispensable," he objected. 
 
 "And it cannot be," I replied. "Eeason has nothing 
 to say in the matter ; and I must not let you squander any 
 of yours. It will be enough to tell you this is an affair of 
 the heart." 
 
 "Is it even so ?" quoth Romaine, nodding his head. 
 " And I might have been sure of it. Place them in a hos- 
 pital, put them in a jail in yellow overalls, do what you
 
 AFTER THE STORM 215 
 
 will, young Jessamy finds yonng Jenny. 0, have it yonr 
 own way ; I am too old a hand to argue with young gentle- 
 men who choose to fancy themselves in love ; I have too 
 much experience, thank you. Only, be sure that you appre- 
 ciate what you risk : the prison, the dock, the gallows, and 
 the halter — terribly vulgar circumstances, my young friend ; 
 grim, sordid, earnest ; no poetry in that ! " 
 
 " And there I am warned," I returned gaily. " No man 
 oould be warned more finely or with a greater eloquence. 
 And I am of the same opinion still. Until I have again 
 seen that lady, nothing shall induce me to quit Great 
 Britain. I have besides " 
 
 And here I came to a full stop. It was upon my tongue 
 to have told him the story of the drovers, but at the first 
 word of it my voice died in my throat. There might be a 
 limit to the lawyer's toleration, I reflected. I had not been 
 so long in Britain altogether ; for the most part of that time 
 I had been by the heels in limbo in Edinburgh Castle ; and 
 already I had confessed to killing one man with a pair of 
 scissors ; and now I was to go on and plead guilty to having 
 settled another with a holly stick ! A wave of discretion 
 went over me as cold and as deep as the sea. 
 
 ''In short, sir, this is a matter of feeling,'' I concluded, 
 " and nothing will prevent my going to Edinburgh." 
 
 If I had fired a pistol in his ear he could not h^^r 'leen 
 more startled. 
 
 " To Edinburgh ?" he repeated. ''Edinburgh ? where 
 the very paving-stones know you ! " 
 
 " Then is the murder out ! " said I. " But, Mr. Ro- 
 maine, is there not sometimes safety in boldness ? Is it not 
 a commonplace of strategy to get where the enemy least 
 expects you ? And where would he expect me less ?" 
 
 "Faith, there is something in that, too!" cried the 
 lawyer. " Ay, certainly, a great deal in that. All the wit-
 
 216 ST. IVES 
 
 nesses drowned but one, and he safe in prison ; you your- 
 self changed beyond recognition — let us hope — and walking 
 the streets of the very town you have illustrated by your — 
 well, your eccentricity ! It is not badly combined, indeed I" 
 
 " You approve it, then ?" said I. 
 
 '' 0, approve ! " said he ; " there is no question of ap- 
 proval. There is only one course which I could approve, 
 and that were to escape to France instanter.""' 
 
 ^' You do not wholly disapprove, at least ?" 1 substituted. 
 
 *' Not wholly ; and it would not matter if I did," he re- 
 plied. " Go your own way ; you are beyond argument. 
 And I am not sure that you will run more danger by that 
 course than by any other. Give the servants time to get to 
 bed and fall asleep, then take a country cross-road and 
 walk, as the rhyme has it, like blazes all night. In the 
 morning take a chaise or take the mail at pleasure, and con- 
 tinue your journey with all the decorum and reserve of 
 which you shall be found capable." 
 
 ^* I am taking the picture in,'' I said. " Give me time. 
 'Tis the tout ensemble I must see : the whole as opposed to 
 the details." 
 
 '' Mountebank ! " he murmured. 
 
 " Yes, I have it now ; and I see myself with a servant, 
 and that servant is Rowley," said I. 
 
 " So as to have one more link with your uncle ?" sug- 
 gested the lawyer. " Very judicious !" 
 
 " And, pardon me, but that is what it is," I exclaimed. 
 " Judicious is the word. I am not making a deception fit 
 to last for thirty years ; I do not found a palace in the 
 living granite for the night. This is a shelter tent — a fly- 
 ing picture — seen, admired, and gone again in the wink of 
 an eye. What is wanted, in short, is a trompe-V ceil i\ia,i 
 shall be good enough for twelve hours at an inn : is it 
 not so ? "
 
 AFTER THE STORM 217 
 
 ''It is, and the objection holds. Kowley is but another 
 danger," said Romaine. 
 
 ''Rowley,"" said I, ''will pass as a servant from a dis- 
 tance — as a creature seen poised on the dicky of a bowling 
 chaise. He will pass at hand as the smart, civil fellow one 
 meets in the inn corridor, and looks back at, and asks, and 
 is told, ' Gentleman's servant in Number i.' He will pass, 
 in fact, all round, except with his personal friends ! My 
 dear sir, pray what do you expect ? Of course, if we meet 
 my cousin, or if we meet anybody who took part in the 
 judicious exhibition of this evening, we are lost ; and who's 
 denying it ? To every disguise, however good and safe, 
 there is always the weak point ; you must always take (let 
 ns say — and to take a simile from your own waistcoat 
 pocket) a snuff-box-full of risk. You'll get it just as small 
 with Rowley as with anybody else. And the long and short 
 of it is, the lad's honest, he likes me, I trust him ; he is my 
 servant, or nobody." 
 
 " He might not accept," said Romaine. 
 
 " I bet you a thousand pounds he does ! " cried I. " But 
 no matter ; all you have to do is to send him out to-night 
 on this cross-country business, and leave the thing to me. 
 I tell you, he will be my servant, and I tell you, he will do 
 well." 
 
 I had crossed the room, and was already overhauling my 
 wardrobe as I spoke. 
 
 "Well," concluded the lawyer, with a shrug, "one risk 
 with another : a la guerre comme a la guerre, as you would 
 say. Let the brat come and be useful, at least." And he 
 was about to ring the bell, when his eye was caught by my 
 researches in the wardrobe. "Do not fall in love with 
 these coats, waistcoats, cravats, and other panoply and ac- 
 coutrements by which you are now surrounded. You must 
 not run the post as a dandy. It is not the fashion, even,*^
 
 218 ST. IVES 
 
 " Yon are pleased to be facetious, sir," said I ; " and not 
 according to knowledge. These clothes are my life, they 
 are my disguise ; and since I can take but few of them, I 
 were a fool indeed if I selected hastily ! Will you under- 
 stand, once and for all, what I am seeking ? To be in- 
 visible, is the first point ; the second, to be invisible in a 
 post-chaise and with a servant. Can you not perceive the 
 delicacy of the quest ? Nothing must be too coarse, noth- 
 ing too fine ; rien de voyant, rien qui detonne ; so that I 
 may leave everywhere the inconspicuous image of a hand- 
 some young man of a good fortune travelling in proper 
 style, whom the landlord will forget in twelve hours — and 
 the chambermaid perhaps remember, God bless her ! with 
 a sigh. This is the very fine art of dress." 
 
 " I have practised it with success for fifty years," said 
 Romaine, with a chuckle. '' A black suit and a clean shirt 
 is my infallible recipe." 
 
 " You surprise me ; I did not think you would be shal- 
 low!" said I, lingering between two coats. "Pray, Mr. 
 Eomaine, have I your head ? or did you travel post and 
 with a smartish servant ?" 
 
 " Neither, I admit," said he. 
 
 *' Which changes the whole problem," I continued. " I 
 have to dress for a smartish servant and a Russia leather 
 despatch-box." That brought me to a stand. I came over 
 and looked at the box with a moment's hesitation. "Yes," 
 I resumed. " Yes, and for the despatcli-box ! It looks 
 moneyed and landed ; it means I have a lawyer. It is an 
 invaluable j^roperty. But I could have wished it to hold 
 less money. The responsibility is crushing. Should I not 
 do more wisely to take five hundred pounds, and entrust 
 the remainder Avith you, Mr. Romaine ? " 
 
 " If you are sure you will not want it," answered Romaine. 
 
 ** I am far from sure of that," cried I. '' In the first
 
 AFTER THE STORM 219 
 
 place, as a philosopher. This is the first time I have been at 
 the head of a large sum, and it is conceivable — who knows 
 himself ? — that I may make it fly. In the second place, 
 as a fugitive. Who knows what I may need ? The whole 
 of it may be inadequate. But I can always write for more/* 
 
 "You do not understand," he replied. " I break off all 
 communication with you here and now. You must give 
 me a power of attorney ere you start to-night, and then be 
 done with me trenchantly until better days.'' 
 
 I believe I offered some objection. 
 
 " Think a little for once of me!" said Eomaine. *'I 
 must not have seen you before to-night. To-night we are 
 to have had our only interview, and you are to have given 
 me the power ; and to-night I am to have lost sight of you 
 again — I know not whither, you were upon business, it 
 was none of my affairs to question you ! And this, you are 
 to remark, in the interests of your own safety much more 
 than mine." 
 
 ''I am not even to write to you ?" I said, a little be- 
 wildered. 
 
 " I believe I am cutting the last strand that connects you 
 with common sense," he replied. " But that is the plain 
 English of it. You are not even to write ; and if you did, 
 I would not answer." 
 
 *' A letter, however " I began. 
 
 *' Listen to me," interrupted Eomaine. '' So soon as 
 your cousin reads the paragraph, what will he do ? Put 
 the police upon looking into my correspondence ! So soon 
 as you write to me, in short, you write to Bow Street ; and 
 if you will take my advice, you will date that letter from 
 France." 
 
 " The devil ! " said I, for I began suddenly to see that 
 this might put me out of the way of my business. 
 
 " What is it now ? " says he.
 
 220 ST. IVES 
 
 *' There will be more to be done, then, before we can 
 part," I answered. 
 
 "1 give you the whole night/^ said he. ^' So long as 
 you are off ere daybreak, I am content.*' 
 
 " In short, Mr. Eomaine," said I, " 1 have had so much 
 benefit of your advice and services that I am loath to sever 
 the connection, and would even ask a substitute. I would 
 be obliged for a letter of introduction to one of your own 
 cloth in Edinburgh — an old man for choice, very experi- 
 enced, very respectable, and very secret. Could you favour 
 me with such a letter ?" 
 
 " Why, no,'' said he. " Certainly not. I will do no 
 such thing, indeed." 
 
 " It would be a great favour, sir," I pleaded. 
 
 ** It would be an unpardonable blunder," he replied. 
 ** What ? Give you a letter of introduction ? and when 
 the police come, I suppose, I must forget the circumstance ? 
 No, indeed. Talk of it no more." 
 
 *' You seem to be always in the right," said I. *'The 
 letter would be out of the question, I quite see that. But 
 the lawyer's name might very well have dropped from you 
 in the way of conversation ; having heard him mentioned, 
 I might profit by the circumstance to introduce myself ; 
 and in this way my business would be the better done, and 
 you not in the least compromised." 
 
 *' What is this business ? " said Romaine. 
 
 ** I have not said that I had any," I replied. " It might 
 arise. This is only a possibility that I must keep in view." 
 
 *' Well," said he, with a gesture of the hands, **I men- 
 tion Mr. Eobbie ; and let that be an end of it ! — Or wait ! " 
 he added, " I have it. Here is something that will serve 
 you for an introduction, and cannot compromise me." 
 And he wrote his name and the Edinburgh lawyer's address 
 on a piece of card and tossed it to me.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 I BECOME THE OWNER OF A CLAEET-COLOURED CHAISB 
 
 "What with packing, signing papers, and partaking of 
 an excellent cold supper in the lawyer's room, it was past 
 two in the morning before we were ready for the road. 
 Eomaine himself let us out of a window in a part of the 
 house known to Eowley : it appears it served as a kind of 
 postern to the servants' hall, by which (when they were in 
 the mind for a clandestine evening) they would come regu- 
 larly in and out ; and I remember very well the vinegar 
 aspect of the lawyer on the receipt of this piece of infor- 
 mation — how he pursed his lips, jutted his eyebrows, and 
 kept repeating, " This must be seen to, indeed ! this shall 
 be barred to-morrow in the morning ! " In this preoccu- 
 pation, I believe he took leave of me without observing it ; 
 our things were handed out ; we heard the window shut 
 behind us ; and became instantly lost in a horrid intricacy 
 of blackness and the shadow of woods. 
 
 A little wet snow kept sleepily falling, pausing, and fall- 
 ing again ; it seemed perpetually beginning to snow and 
 perpetually leaving off ; and the darkness was intense. 
 Time and again we walked into trees ; time and again 
 found ourselves adrift among garden borders or stuck like 
 a ram in the thicket. Rowley had possessed himself of the 
 matches, and he was neither to be terrified nor softened. 
 *' No, I will not, Mr. Anne, sir," he would reply. " You 
 know he tell me to wait till we were over the 'ill. It's only 
 
 221
 
 222 ST. IVES 
 
 a little way now. Why, and I thought yon was a soldier, 
 too ! " I was at least a very glad soldier when my valet 
 consented at last to kindle a thieves' match. From this, 
 we easily lit the lantern ; and thenceforward, through a 
 labyrinth of woodland paths, were conducted by its uneasy 
 glimmer. Both booted and great-coated, with tall hats 
 much of a shape, and laden with booty in the form of the 
 despatch-box, a case of pistols, and two plump valises, I 
 thought we had very much the look of a pair of brothers 
 returning from the sack of Amersham Place. 
 
 We issued at last upon a country by-road where we might 
 walk abreast and without precaution. It was nine miles to 
 Aylesbury, our immediate destination ; by a watch, which 
 formed part of my new outfit, it should be about half-past 
 three in the morning ; and as we did not choose to arrive 
 before daylight, time could not be said to press. I gave 
 the order to march at ease. 
 
 " Now, Rowley," said I, " so far so good. Yon have 
 come, in the most obliging manner in the world, to carry 
 these valises. The question is, what next ? What are 
 we to do at Aylesbury ? oi', more particularly, what are 
 you ? Thence, I go on a journey. Are you to accompany 
 me?" 
 
 He gave a little chuckle. '" That's all settled already, 
 Mr. Anne, sir," he replied. " Why, I've got my things 
 here in the valise — a half a dozen shirts and what not ; I'm 
 all ready, sir : just you lead on ; you'll see." 
 
 *' The devil you have ! " said I. " You made pretty 
 sure of your welcome." 
 
 " If yon please, sir," said Rowley. 
 
 He looked up at me, in the light of the lantern, with a 
 boyish shyness and triumph that awoke my conscience. I 
 could never let this innocent involve himself in the perils 
 and difficulties that beset my course, without some hint of
 
 I BECOME THE OWNER OF A CHAISE 223 
 
 warning, wliicli it was a matter of extreme delicacy to make 
 plain enough and not too plain. 
 
 " No, no/' said I ; " you may think you have made a 
 choice, but it was blindfold, and you must make it over 
 again. The Count's service is a good one ; what are yon 
 leaving it for ? Are you not throwing away the substance 
 for the shadow ? No, do not answer me yet. You imag- 
 ine that I am a prosperous nobleman. Just declared my 
 nncle's heir, on the threshold of the best of good fortune, 
 and from the point of view of a judicious servant, a jewel 
 of a master to serve and stick to ? Well, my boy, I am 
 nothing of the kind, nothing of the kind." 
 
 As I said the words, I came to a full stop and held up 
 the lantern to his face. He stood before me, brilliantly 
 illuminated on the background of impenetrable night and 
 falling snow, stricken to stone between his double burden 
 like an ass between two panniers, and gaping at me like a 
 blunderbuss. I had never seen a face so predestined to be 
 astonished, or so susceptible of rendering the emotion of 
 surprise ; and it tempted me as an open piano tempts the 
 musician. 
 
 '' Nothing of the sort, Eowley,'* I continued, in a church- 
 yard voice. *' These are appearances, pretty appearances. 
 I am in peril, homeless, hunted. I count scarce any one 
 in England who is not my enemy. From this hour I drop 
 my name, my title ; I become nameless ; my name is pro- 
 scribed. My liberty, my life, hang by a hair. The des- 
 tiny which you will accept, if you go forth with me, is to 
 be tracked by spies, to hide yourself under a false name, to 
 follow the desperate pretences and perhaps share the fate 
 of a murderer with a price upon his head." 
 
 His face had been hitherto beyond expectation, passing 
 from one depth to another of tragic astonishment, and 
 really worth paying to see ; but at this, it suddenly cleared.
 
 224 ST. IVES 
 
 " 0, I ain't afraid ! " lie said ; and then, choking into 
 laughter, " why, I see it from the first ! " 
 
 I could have beaten him. But I had so grossly overshot 
 the mark that I suppose it took me two good miles of road 
 and half an hour of elocution to persuade him I had been 
 in earnest In the course of which, I became so interested 
 in demonstrating my present danger that I forgot all about 
 my future safety, and not only told him the story of 
 Goguelat, but threw in the business of the drovers as well, 
 and ended by blurting out that I was a soldier of Napo- 
 leon's and a prisoner of war. 
 
 This was far from my views when I began ; and it is a 
 common complaint of me that I have a long tongue. I 
 believe it is a fault beloved by fortune. Which of you con- 
 siderate fellows would have done a thing at once so fool- 
 hardy and so wise as to make a confidant of a boy in his 
 teens, and positively smelling of the nursery ? And when 
 had I cause to repent it ? There is none so apt as a boy to 
 be the adviser of any man in difficulties such as mine. To 
 the beginnings of virile common sense he adds the last 
 lights of the child's imagination ; and he can fling himself 
 into business with that superior earnestness that properly 
 belongs to play. And Rowley was a boy made to my hand. 
 He had a high sense of romance, and a secret cultus for all 
 soldiers and criminals. Ilis travelling library consisted of 
 a chap-book life of Wallace and some sixpenny parts of the 
 *01d Bailey Sessions Papers' by Gurney the shorthand 
 writer ; and the choice depicts his character to a hair. You 
 can imagine how his new prospects brightened on a boy of 
 this disposition. To be the servant and companion of a 
 fugitive, a soldier, and a murderer, rolled in one — to live 
 by stratagems, disguises, and false names, in an atmosphere 
 of midnight and mystery so thick that you could cut it 
 with a knife — was really, I believe, more dear to him than
 
 I BECOME THE OWNER OF A CHAISE 225 
 
 his meals, thongli lie was a great trencherman, and some- 
 thing of a glutton besides. For myself, as the peg by which 
 all this romantic business hung, I was simply idolised from 
 that moment ; and he would rather have sacrificed his 
 hand than surrendered the privilege of serving me. 
 
 We arranged the terms of our campaign, trudging ami- 
 cably in the snow, which now, with the approach of morn- 
 ing, began to fall to purpose. I chose the name of Ra- 
 m©rnie, I imagine from its likeness to Romaine ; Row- 
 ley, from an irresistible conversion of ideas, I dubbed 
 Gammon. His distress was laughable to witness : his own 
 choice of an unassuming nickname had been Claude Duval ! 
 We settled our procedure at the various inns where we 
 should alight, rehearsed our little manners like a piece of 
 drill until it seemed impossible we should ever be taken 
 unprepared ; and in all these dispositions, you may be sure 
 the despatch-box was not forgotten. Who was to pick it 
 up, who was to set it down, who was to remain beside it, 
 who was to sleep with it — there was no contingency 
 omitted, all was gone into with the thoroughness of a 
 drill-sergeant on the one hand and a child with a new play- 
 thing on the other. 
 
 " I say, wouldn't it look queer if you and me was to come 
 to the post-house with all this luggage ? '' said Rowley. 
 
 " I daresay," I replied. " But what else is to be done ? " 
 
 " Well, now, sir — you hear me," says Rowley. " I think 
 it would look more natural-like if you was to come to the 
 post-house alone, and with nothing in your 'ands — more 
 like a gentleman, you know. And you might say that your 
 servant and baggage was a- waiting for you up the road. I 
 think I could manage, somehow, to make a shift with all 
 them dratted things — leastways if you was to give me a 
 •'and up with them at the start." 
 
 " And I would see you far enough before I allowed you to 
 15
 
 226 ST. IVES 
 
 try, Mr. Rowley \" I cried. "Why, yon wonld be quite 
 defenceless ! A footpad that was an infant child could rob 
 you. And I should probably come driving by to find you 
 in a ditch with your throat cut. But there is something 
 in your idea, for all that ; and I propose we put it in exe- 
 cution no farther forward than the next corner of a lane.*' 
 
 Accordingly, instead of continuing to aim for Aylesbury, 
 we headed by cross-roads for some point to the northward 
 of it, whither I might assist Rowley with the baggage, and 
 where I might leave him to await my return in the post- 
 chaise. 
 
 It was snowing to purpose, the country all white, and 
 ourselves walking snowdrifts, when the first glimmer of 
 the morning showed us an inn upon the highway side. 
 Some distance off, under the shelter of a corner of the 
 road and a clump of trees, I loaded Rowley with the whole 
 of our possessions, and Avatchcd him till he staggered in 
 safety into the doors of the Green Dragon, which was the 
 sign of the house. Thence I walked briskly into Ayles- 
 bury, rejoicing in my freedom and the causeless good 
 spirits that belong to a snowy morning ; though, to be 
 sure, long before I had arrived the snow had again ceased 
 to fall, and the eaves of Aylesbury were smoking in the 
 level sun. There was an accumulation of gigs and chaises 
 in ta3 yard, and a great bustle going forward in the coffee- 
 room and about the doors of the inn. At these evidences 
 of so much travel on tlie road I was seized with a misgiv- 
 ing lest it should be impossible to get horses and I should 
 be detained in the precarious neighbourhood of my cousin. 
 Hungry as I was, I made my way first of all to the post- 
 master, where he stood — a big, athletic, horse}'- looking 
 man, blowing into a key in the corner of the yard. 
 
 On my making my modest request, he awoke from his 
 indifference into what seemed passion.
 
 I BECOME THE OWNER OF A CHAISE 227 
 
 " A po'-shay and 'osses ! " he cried. " Do I look as if I 
 'ad a po'-shay and 'osses ? Damn me, if I 'aye such a thing. 
 on the premises. I don't mahe 'osses and chaises — I 'ire 
 'em. Yon might be God Almighty ! " said he ; and in- 
 stantly, as if he had observed me for the first time, he 
 broke off, and lowered his voice into the confidential. 
 " Why, now that I see yon are a gentleman," said he, " I'll 
 tell you what ! If you like to huy, I have the article to fit 
 you. Second-'and shay by Lycett, of London. Latest 
 style ; good as new. Superior fittin's, net on the roof, 
 baggage platform, pistol 'olsters — the most com-plete and 
 the most gen-teel turn-out I ever see ! The 'ole for 
 seventy-five pound ! It's as good as givin' her away ! " 
 
 "Do you propose I should trundle it myself, like a haw- 
 ker's barrow ?" said I. *'Why, my good man, if I have- 
 to stop here, anyway, I should prefer to buy a house and 
 garden !" 
 
 " Come and look at her ! " he cried ; and, with the word, 
 links his arm in mine and carries me to the out-house 
 where the chaise was on view. 
 
 It was just the sort of chaise that I had dreamed of for 
 my purpose : eminently rich, inconspicuous, and genteel ; 
 for, though I thought the postmaster no great authority, I 
 was bound to agree with him so far. The body was painted 
 a dark claret, and the wheels an invisible green. The lamp 
 and glasses were bright as silver ; and the whole equipage 
 had an air of privacy and reserve that seemed to repel in- 
 quiry and disarm suspicion. With a servant like Rowley, 
 and a chaise like this, I felt that I could go from the Land's. 
 End to John o' Groat's House amid a population of bow- 
 ing ostlers. And I suppose I betrayed in my manner the 
 degree in which the bargain tempted me. 
 
 " Come," cried the postmaster — " I'll make it seventy, 
 to oblige a friend ! "
 
 228 ST. IVES 
 
 *' The point is : the horses/' said I. 
 
 " Well," said he, consulting his watch, '' it's now gone the 
 "'alf after eight. "What time do you want her at the door? " 
 
 " Horses and all ? " said I. 
 
 '"Osses and all !" says he. ''One good turn deserves 
 another. You give me seventy pound for the shay, and 
 ril 'oss it for you. I told you I didn't make 'osses ; but I 
 can make 'em to oblige a friend." 
 
 What would you have ? It was not the wisest thing in 
 the world to buy a chaise within a dozen miles of my 
 uncle's house ; but in this way I got my horses for the next 
 stage. And by any other, it appeared that I should have 
 to wait. Accordingly, I paid the money down — perhaps 
 twenty pounds too much, though it was certainly a well- 
 made and well-appointed vehicle — ordered it round in half 
 ^n hour, and proceeded to refresh myself with breakfast. 
 
 The table to which I sat down occupied the recess of a 
 bay-window, and commanded a view of the front of the 
 inn, where I continued to be amused by the successive de- 
 partures of travellers — the fussy and the offhand, the nig- 
 gardly and the lavish — all exhibiting their different char- 
 acters in that diagnostic moment of the farewell : some 
 escorted to the stirrup or the chaise door by the chamber- 
 lain, the chambermaids and the waiters almost in a body, 
 others moving off under a cloud, without human counte- 
 nance. In the course of this I became interested in one for 
 whom this ovation began to assume the proportions of a 
 triumph ; not only the under-servants, but the barmaid, 
 the landlady, and my friend the postmaster himself, crowd- 
 ing about the steps to speed his departure. I was aware, 
 at the same time, of a good deal of merriment, as though 
 the traveller were a man of a ready wit, and not too digni- 
 fied to air it in that society. I leaned forward with a 
 lively curiosity ; and the next moment I had blotted myself
 
 I beco:me tue owjs'er of a chaise 229 
 
 behind the teapot. The jDopular traveller had turned 
 to wave a farewell ; and behold ! he was no other than 
 my cousin Alain. It was a change of the sharpest from 
 the augi-y, pallid man I had seen at Amersham Place. 
 Euddy to a fault, illuminated with vintages, crowned with 
 his curls like Bacchus, he now stood before me for an in- 
 stant, the perfect master of himself, smiling with airs of 
 conscious popularity and insufferable condescension. He 
 reminded me at once of a royal duke, of an actor turned a 
 little elderly, and of a blatant bagman who should have 
 been the illegitimate son of a gentleman. A moment after 
 he was gliding noiselessly on the road to London. 
 
 I breathed again. I recognised, with heartfelt grati- 
 tude, how lucky I had been to go in by the stable-yard 
 instead of the hostelry door, and what a fine occasion of 
 meeting my cousin I had lost by the purchase of the clai'et- 
 coloured chaise ! The next moment I remembered that 
 there was a waiter present. ]S"o doubt but he must have 
 observed me when I crouched behind the breakfast equi- 
 page ; no doubt but he must have commented on this un- 
 usual and undignified behaviour ; and it was essential that 
 I should do something to remove the impression. 
 
 '^Waiter I" said I, "that was the nephew of Count Car- 
 well that just drove off, wasn't it ? " 
 
 *' Yes, sir : Viscount Carwell we calls him," he replied. 
 
 " Ah, I thought as much," said I. " Well, well, damn 
 all these Frenchmen, say I ! " 
 
 "Yon may so indeed, sir," said the waiter. "They 
 ain't not to say in the same field with our 'ome-raised 
 gentry." 
 
 " Nasty tempers ? " I suggested. 
 
 "Beas'ly temper, sir, the Viscount 'ave," said the 
 waiter with feeling. " Why, no longer agone than this 
 morning, he was sitting breakfasting and reading in his
 
 230 ST. IVES 
 
 paper. I suppose, sir, he come on some pilitical informa- 
 tion, or it might be about 'orses, but he raps his 'and upon 
 tlie table sudden and calls for curagoa. It gave me quite 
 a turn, it did ; he did it that sudden and 'ard. Xow, sir, 
 that may be manners in France, but hall I can say is. that 
 Fm not used to it." 
 
 " Reading the paper, was he ? " said I. '' What j^aper, 
 eh?'' 
 
 " Here it is, sir," exclaimed the waiter. " Seems like 
 as if he'd dropped it." 
 
 And picking it off the floor, he presented it to me. 
 
 I may say that I was quite prepared, that I already knew 
 what to expect ; but at sight of the cold print my heart 
 stopped beating. There it was : the fulfilment of Eomaine's 
 apprehension was before me ; the paper was laid open at the 
 capture of Clausel. I felt as if I could take a little cura- 
 90a myself, but on second thoughts called for brandy. It 
 was badly wanted ; and suddenly I observed the waiter's 
 eye to sparkle, as it were, with some recognition ; made 
 certain he had remarked the resemblance between me and 
 Alain ; and became aware — as by a revelation — of the fool's 
 part I had been playing. For I had now managed to put 
 my identification beyond a doubt, if Alain should choose to 
 make his inquiries at Aylesbury ; and, as if that were not 
 enough, I had added, at an expense of seventy pounds, a 
 clue by which he might follow me through the length and 
 breadth of England, in the shape of the claret-coloured 
 chaise ! That elegant equijiage (which I began to regard 
 as little better than a claret-coloured ante-room to the 
 hangman's cart) coming presently to the door, I left my 
 breakfast in the middle and departed ; posting to the 
 north as diligently as my cousin Alain was posting to the 
 south, and putting my trust (such as it was) in an opposite 
 dirtction and equal speed.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 CHARACTER AND ACQUIREMENTS OF MR. ROWLEY 
 
 I AM not certain that I had ever really appreciated be- 
 fore that hour the extreme peril of the adventure on vsliich 
 I was embarked. The sight of my cousin, the look of his 
 face — so handsome, so jovial at the first sight, and branded 
 with so much malignity as you saw it on the second — with 
 his hyperbolical curls in order, with his neckcloth tied as 
 if for the conquests of love, setting forth (as I had no 
 doubt in the world he was doing) to clap the Bow Street 
 runners on my trail, and cover England with handbills, 
 each dangerous as a loaded musket, convinced me for the 
 first time that the affair was no less serious than death. I 
 believe it came to a near touch whether I should not turn 
 the horses' heads at the next stage and make directly for the 
 coast. But I was now in the position of a man who should 
 have thrown his gage into the den of lions ; or, better 
 still, like one who should have quarrelled overnight under 
 the influence of wine, and now, at daylight, in a cold win- 
 ter's morning, and humbly sober, must make good his 
 words. It is not that I thought any the less, or any the 
 less warmly, of Flora. But, as I smoked a grim segar that 
 morning in a corner of the chaise, no doubt I considered, 
 in the first place, that the letter post had been invented, 
 and admitted privately to myself, in the second, that it 
 would have been highly possible to write her on a piece of 
 paper, seal it, and send it skimming by the mail, instead of 
 
 331.
 
 232 ST. IVES 
 
 going personally into these egregious dangers and through 
 a country that I beheld crowded with gibbets and Bow 
 Street officers. As for Sim and Caudlish, I doubt if they 
 crossed my mind. 
 
 At the Green Dragon Eowley was waiting on the door- 
 steps with the luggage, and really was bursting with un- 
 palatable conversation. 
 
 " Who do you think we've 'ad 'ere, sir ? " he began breath- 
 lessly, as the chaise drove off. *'Eed Breasts"; and he 
 nodded his head portentously. 
 
 ''Red Breasts?"! repeated, for I stupidly did not un- 
 derstand at the moment an expression I had often heard. 
 
 ''Ah!" said he. " Red weskits. Runners. Bow Street 
 runners. Two on 'em, and one was Lavender himself ! I 
 hear the other say quite plain, 'Now, Mr. Lavender, if 
 you're ready.' They was breakfasting as nigh me as I am 
 to that post-boy. They're all right ; they ain't after us. 
 It's a forger ; and I didn't send them off on a false scent — 
 no ! I thought there was no use in having them over 
 our way ; so I give them ' very valuable information,' Mr. 
 Lavender said, and tipped me a tizzy for myself ; and 
 they're off to Luton. They showed me the 'andcuffs, too 
 — the other one did — and he clicked the dratted things 
 on my wrist ; and I tell you, I believe I nearly went off in 
 a swound ! There's something so beastly in the feel of 
 them ! Begging your pardon, Mr. Anne," he added, with 
 one of his delicious changes from the character of the 
 confidential schoolboy into that of the trained, respectful 
 servant. 
 
 Well, I must not be proud ! I cannot say I found the 
 subject of handcuffs to my fancy ; and it was with more 
 asperity than was needful that I reproved him for the slip 
 about the name. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Ramornie," says he, touching his hat. " Beg-
 
 CHARACTER OF MR. ROWLEY 233 
 
 ging yonr pardon, Mr. Eamornie. But I've been very 
 piticular, sir, np to now ; and you may trust me to be very 
 piticular in the future. It were only a slip, sir.'' 
 
 " My good boy," said I, with the most imposing severity, 
 " there must be no slips. Be so good as to remember that 
 my life is at stake." 
 
 I did not embrace the occasion of telling him how many 
 I had made myself. It is my principle that an officer must 
 never be wrong. I have seen two divisions beating their 
 brains out for a fortnight against a worthless and quite im- 
 pregnable castle in a pass : I knew we were only doing it 
 for discipline, because the General had said so at first, and 
 had not yet found any way out of his own words ; and I 
 highly admired his force of character, and throughout 
 these operations thought my life exposed in a very good 
 cause. With fools and children, which included Rowley, 
 the necessity was even greater. I proposed to myself to be 
 infallible ; and even when he expressed some wonder at the 
 purchase of the claret-coloured chaise, I jiut him promptly 
 in his place. In our situation, I told him, everything had 
 to be sacrificed to appearances ; doubtless, in a hired chaise! 
 we should have had more freedom, but look at the dignity, 
 I was so positive, that I had sometimes almost convinced 
 myself. Xot for long, you may be certain ! This detest- 
 able conveyance always appeared to me to be laden with 
 Bow Street officers, and to have a placard upon the back 
 of it publishing my name and crimes. If I had paid seventy 
 pounds to get the thing, I should not have stack at seven 
 hundred to be safely rid of it. 
 
 And if the chaise was a danger, what an anxiety was the 
 despatch-box and its golden cargo ! I had never had a 
 care but to draw my pay and spend it ; I had lived happily 
 in the regiment, as in my father's house, fed by the great 
 Emperor's commissariat as by ubiquitous doves of Elijah — -
 
 234 ST. IVES 
 
 or, my faith ! if anything went wrong with the commis- 
 sariat, helping myself with the best grace in the world from 
 the next peasant ! And now I began to feel at the same 
 time the burthen of riches and the fear of destitution. 
 There were ten thousand pounds in the despatch-box, but I 
 reckoned in French money, and had two hundred and fifty 
 thousand agonies ; I kept it under my hand all day, I 
 dreamed of it at night. In the inns, I was afraid to go to 
 dinner and afraid to go to sleep. When I walked up a hill, 
 I durst not leave the doors of the claret-coloured chaise. 
 Sometimes I would change the disposition of the funds : 
 there were days when I carried as much as five or six thou- 
 sand pounds on my own person, and only the residue contin- 
 ued to voyage in the treasure chest — days when I bulked all 
 over like my cousin, crackled to a touch with bank paper, 
 and had my pockets weighed to bursting point with sov- 
 ereigns. And there were other days when I wearied of the 
 thing — or grew ashamed of it — and put all the money back 
 where it had come from : there let it take its chance, like 
 better people ! In short, I set Eowley a poor example of 
 consistency, and in philosophy, none at all. 
 
 Little he cared ! All was one to him so long as he was 
 amused, and I never knew any one amused more easily. 
 He was thrillingly interested in life, travel, and his own 
 melodramatic position. All day he would be looking from 
 the chaise windows with ebullitions of gratified curiosity, 
 that were sometimes justified and sometimes not, and that 
 (taken altogether) it occasionally wearied me to be obliged 
 to share. I can look at horses, and I can look at trees 
 too, although not fond of it. But why should I look at a 
 lame horse, or a tree that was like the letter Y ? What 
 exhilaration could I feel in viewing a cottage that was the 
 same colour as " the second from the miller's " in some 
 place where I had never been and of which I had not
 
 CnAEACTEK OF MR. EOWLEY 235 
 
 previously heard ? I am ashamed to complain, but there 
 were moments when my juvenile and confidential friend 
 weighed heavy on my hands. His cackle was indeed al- 
 most continuous, but it was never unamiable. He showed 
 an amiable curiosity when he was asking questions ; an 
 amiable guilelessness when he was conferring information. 
 And both he did largely. I am in a position to write the 
 biographies of Mr. Rowley, Mr. Eowley's father and mother, 
 his Aunt Eliza, and the miller's dog ; and nothing but pity 
 for the reader, and some misgivings as to the law of copy- 
 right, prevail on me to withhold them. 
 
 A general design to mould himself upon my example 
 became early apparent, and I had not the heart to check 
 it. He began to mimic my carriage ; he acquired, with 
 servile accuracy, a little manner I had of shrugging the 
 shoulders ; and I may say it was by observing it in him 
 that I first discovered it in myself. One day it came out 
 by chance that I was of the Catholic religion. He became 
 plunged in thought, at which I was gently glad. Then 
 suddenly, — 
 
 '' Odd-rabbit it ! I'll be Catholic too ! " he broke out. 
 *' You must teach me it, Mr. Anne — I mean, Ramornie.'^ 
 
 I dissuaded him : alleging that he would find me very 
 imperfectly informed as to the grounds and doctrines of 
 the Church, and that, after all, in the matter of religions, 
 it was a very poor idea to change. " Of course, my Church 
 is the best," said I ; ''but that is not the reason why I 
 belong to it : I belong to it because it was the faith of my 
 house. I wish to take my chances with my own people, 
 and so should you. If it is a question of going to hell, go 
 to hell like a gentleman with your ancestors." 
 
 " Well, it wasn't that," he admitted. " I don't know 
 that I was exactly thinking of hell. Then there's the in- 
 quisition, too. That's rather a cawker, you know."
 
 236 ST. IVES 
 
 " And I don't believe yon were thinking of anything in 
 the world," said I — which put a period to his respectable 
 conversion. 
 
 He consoled himself by playing for awhile on a cheap 
 flageolet, which was one of his diversions, and to which I 
 owed many intervals of peace. When he first produced it, 
 in the joints, from his jDocket, he had the duplicity to ask 
 me if I played ujjon it. I answered, no ; and he put the 
 instrument away with a sigh and tlie remark that he had 
 thought I niiglit. For some while he resisted the. un- 
 speakable temptation, his fingers visibly itching and twit- 
 tering about his pocket, even his interest in the landscape 
 and in sporadic anecdote entirely lost. Presently the pipe 
 was in his hands again ; he fitted, unfitted, refitted, and 
 played upon it in dumb show for some time. 
 
 " I play it myself a little," says he. 
 
 " Do you ? " said I, and yawned. 
 
 And then he broke down. 
 
 " Mr. Ramornie, if you please, would it disturb you, sir, 
 if I was to play a chune ? " he pleaded, xind from that 
 hour, the tootling of the flageolet cheered our way. 
 
 He was particularly keen on the details of battles, single 
 combats, incidents of scouting parties, and the like. These 
 he would make haste to cap with some of the exploits of 
 Wallace, the only hero with whom he had the least ac- 
 quaintance. His enthusiasm was genuine and pretty. 
 When he learned we were going to Scotland, ''Well, then," 
 he broke out, " I'll see where Wallace lived ! " And pres- 
 ently after, he fell to moralising. " It's a strange thing, 
 sir," he began, ''that I seem somehow to have always the 
 wrong sow by the ear. I'm English after all, and I glory 
 in it. My eye ! don't I, though ! Let some of your 
 Frenchies come over here to invade, and you'll see whether 
 or not ! 0, yes, I'm English to the backbone, I am. And
 
 CHARACTER OF MR. ROWLEY 237 
 
 yet look at me ! I got hold of this 'ere William Wallace 
 and took to him right off ; I never heard of such a man 
 before ! And then you came along, and I took to you. 
 And both the two of you were my born enemies ! I — I beg 
 your pardon, Mr. Ramornie, but would you mind it very 
 much if you didn't go for to do anything against England " 
 — he brought the word out suddenly, like something hot — 
 "when I was along of you "i" 
 
 I was more affected than I can tell. 
 
 " Rowley,'' I said, "you need have no fear. By how 
 much I love my own honour, by so much I will take care 
 to protect yours. We are but fraternising at the outposts, 
 as soldiers do. When the bugle calls, my boy, we must 
 face each other, one for England, one for France, and may 
 God defend the right ! " 
 
 So I spoke at the moment ; but for all my brave airs, the 
 boy had wounded me in a vital quarter. His words con- 
 tinued to ring in my hearing. There was no remission all 
 day of my remorseful thoughts ; and that night (which we 
 lay at Lichfield, I believe) there was no sleep for me in my 
 bed. I put out the candle and lay down with a good reso- 
 lution ; and in a moment, all was light about me like a 
 theatre, and I saw myself upon the stage of it, playing ig- 
 noble parts. I remembered France and my Emperor, now 
 depending on the arbitrament of war, bent down, fighting 
 on their knees and with their teeth against so many and 
 such various assailants. And I burned with shame to be 
 here in England, cherishing an English fortune, pursuing 
 an English mistress, and not there, to handle a musket in 
 my native fields, and to manure them with my body if I 
 fell. I remembered that I belonged to France. All my 
 fathers had fought for her, and some had died ; the voice 
 in my throat, the sight of my eyes, the tears that now 
 sprang there, the whole man of me, was fashioned of
 
 238 ST. IVES 
 
 French earth and born of a French mother ; I had been 
 tended and caressed by a succession of the daughters of 
 France, the fairest, the most ill-starred ; and I had fought 
 and conquered shoulder to shoulder with her sons. A sol- 
 dier, a noble, of the proudest and bravest race in Europe, 
 it had been left to the prattle of a hobbledehoy lackey in 
 an English chaise to recall me to the consciousness of 
 duty. 
 
 When I saw how it was, I did not lose time in indeci- 
 sion. The old classical conflict of love and honour being 
 once fairly before me, it did not cost me a thought. I was 
 a Saint- Yves de Keroual ; and I decided to strike oif on 
 the morrow for Wakefield and Burchell Fenn, and embark, 
 as soon as it should be morally possible, for the succour of 
 my down-trodden fatherland and my beleaguered Em- 
 peror. Pursuant on this resolve, I leaped from bed, made 
 a light, and as the watchman was crying half-past two in 
 the dark streets of Lichfield, sat down to pen a letter of 
 farewell to Flora. And then — whether it was the sudden 
 chill of the night, whether it came by association of ideas 
 from the remembrance of Swanston Cottage I know not, 
 but there appeared before me — to the barking of sheep- 
 dogs — a couple of snuffy and shambling figures, each 
 wrapped in a plaid, each armed with a rude staff ; and I 
 was immediately bowed down to have forgotten them so 
 long, and of late to have thought of them so cavalierly. 
 
 Sure enough there was my errand ! As a private person 
 I was neither French nor English ; I was something else 
 first : a loyal gentleman, an honest man. Sim and Cand- 
 lish must not be left to pay the penalty of my unfortunate 
 blow. They held my honour tacitly pledged to succour 
 them ; and it is a sort of stoical refinement entirely foreign 
 to my nature to set the political obligation above the per- 
 sonal and private. If France fell in the interval for the
 
 CHARACTER OF MR. ROWLEY 239 
 
 lack of Anne de Saint- Yves, fall she must ! But I was both 
 surprised and humiliated to have had so plain a duty bound 
 upon me for so long — and for so long to have neglected and 
 forgotten it. I think any brave man will understand me 
 when I say that I went to bed and to sleep with a con- 
 science very much relieved, and woke again in the morn- 
 ing with a light heart. The very danger of the enterprise 
 reassured me : to save Sim and Candlish (suppose the worst 
 to come to the worst) it would be necessary for me to de- 
 clare myself in a court of justice, with consequences which 
 I did not dare to dwell upon ; it could never be said that I 
 had chosen the cheap and the easy, — only that in a very 
 perplexing competition of duties I had risked my life for 
 the most immediate. 
 
 We resumed the journey with more diligence : thence- 
 forward posted day and night ; did not halt beyond what 
 was necessary for meals ; and the postilions were excited 
 by gratuities, after the habit of my cousin Alain. For 
 twopence I could have gone further and taken four horses ; 
 so extreme was my haste, running as I was before the ter- 
 rors of an awakened conscience. But I feared to be con- 
 spicuous. Even as it was, we attracted only too much 
 attention, with our pair and that white elephant, the sev- 
 enty-pounds-worth of claret-coloured chaise. 
 
 Meanwhile, I was ashamed to look Rowley in the face. 
 The young shaver had contrived to put me wholly in the 
 wrong ; he had cost me a night's rest and a severe and 
 healthful humiliation ; and I was grateful and embarrassed 
 in his society. This would never do ; it was contrary to 
 all my ideas of discipline : if the officer has to blush before 
 the private, or the master before the servant, nothing is 
 left to hope for but discharge or death. I hit upon the 
 Idea of teaching him French ; and accordingly, from Lich- 
 field, I became the distracted master, asd he the scholar—
 
 240 ST. IVES 
 
 how shall I say ? indefatigable, but uninspired. His in- 
 terest never flagged. He would hear the same word twenty 
 times with profound refreshment, mispronounce it in sev- 
 eral different ways, and forget it again with magical celer- 
 ity. Say, it happened to be stirriq). " No, I don't seem 
 to remember that word, Mr. Anne," he would say : " it 
 don't seem to stick to me, that word don't." And then, 
 when I had told it him again, '' Etrier! " he would cry. 
 " To be sure ! I had it on the tip of my tongue. Eterier ! " 
 (going wrong already, as if by a fatal instinct). " What 
 will I remember it by, now ? AVhy, interior, to be sure ! 
 I'll remember it by its being something that ain't in the 
 interior of a horse." And when next I had occasion to 
 ask him the French for stirrup, it was a toss-up whether 
 he had forgotten all about it, or gave me exterior for an 
 answer. He was never a hair discouraged. He seemed to 
 consider that he was covering the ground at a normal rate. 
 He came up smiling, day after day. "Now, sir, shall we 
 do our French? " he would say ; and I would put ques- 
 tions, and elicit copious commentary and explanation, but 
 never the shadow of an answer. My hands fell to my sides ; 
 I could have wept to hear him. When I reflected that he 
 had as yet learned nothing, and what a vast deal more 
 there was for him to learn, the period of these lessons 
 seemed to unroll before me vast as eternity, and I saw my- 
 self a teacher of a hundred, and Rowley a pupil of ninety, 
 still hammering on the rudiments ! The wretclied boy, 
 I should say, was quite unspoiled by the inevitable famili- 
 arities of the journey. He turned out at each stage the 
 pink of serving-lads, deft, civil, prompt, attentive, touch- 
 ing his hat like an automaton, raising the status of Mr. 
 Ramornie in the eyes of all the inn by his smiling service, 
 and seeming capable of anything in the world but the on« 
 thing I had chosen — learning French I
 
 I CAME ON THE WRECK OF A CHAISE.'
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE ADVEITTURE OF THE RUJSTAWAT COUPLE 
 
 The conntry had for some time back been changing in 
 character. By a thousand indications I could judge that I 
 was again drawing near to Scotland. I saw it written in 
 the face of the hills, in the growth of the ti-ees, and in the 
 glint of the waterbrooks that kept the high road company. 
 It might have occurred to me, also, that I was, at the same 
 time, approaching a place of some fame in Britain — Gretna 
 Green. Over the same leagues of road — which Eowley 
 and I now traversed in the claret-coloured chaise, to the 
 note of the flageolet and the French lesson — how many 
 pairs of lovers had gone bowling northward to the music 
 of sixteen scampering horseshoes ; and how many irate 
 persons, parents, uncles, guardians, evicted rivals, had 
 come tearing after, clapping the frequent red face to the 
 chaise- window, lavishly shedding their gold about the post- 
 houses, sedulously loading and re-loading, as they went, 
 their avenging pistols ! But I doubt if I had thought of 
 it at all, before a wayside hazard swept me into the thick of 
 an adventure of this nature ; and I found myself playing 
 providence with other people's lives, to my own admiration 
 at the moment — and subsequently to my own brief but pas- 
 sionate regret. 
 
 At rather an ugly corner of an up-hill reach> I came on 
 the wreck of a chaise lying on one side in the ditch, a man 
 and a woman in animated discourse in the middle of the 
 16 241
 
 242 ST. IVES 
 
 road, and the two postilions, each with his pair of horses, 
 looking on and laughing from the saddle. 
 
 " Morning breezes ! here's a smash ! " cried Rowley, 
 pocketing his flageolet in the middle of the Tigid Little 
 Jslaiid. 
 
 I was perhaps more conscious of the moral smash than 
 the physical — more alive to broken hearts than to broken 
 chaises ; for, as plain as the sun at morning, there was a 
 screw loose in this runaway match. It is always a bad 
 sign when the lower classes laugh : their taste in humour 
 is both poor and sinister ; and for a man running the 
 posts with four horses, presumably with open pockets, and 
 in the company of the most entrancing little creature con- 
 ceivable, to have come down so far as to be laughed at by 
 his own j)ostilions, was only to be exjilained on the double 
 hypothesis, that he was a fool, and no gentleman. 
 
 I have said they were man and woman. I should have 
 said man and child. She was certainly not more than sev- 
 enteen, pretty as an angel, just plump enough to damn a 
 saint, and dressed in various shades of blue, from her 
 stockings to her saucy cap, in a kind of taking gamut, the 
 top note of which she flung me in a beam from her too 
 appreciative eye. There was no doubt about the case : I 
 saw it all. From a boarding school, a black-board, a piano, 
 and dementi's Sonatinas, the child had made a rash ad- 
 venture upon life in the company of a half-bred hawbuck ; 
 and she was already not only regretting it, but expressing 
 her regret with point and pungency. 
 
 As I alighted, they both paused with that unmistakable 
 air of being interrupted in a scene. I uncovered to the 
 lady, and j^laced my services at their disposal. 
 
 It was the man who answered. "There's no use in 
 shamming, sir," said he. " This lady and I have run 
 away, and her father's after us : road to Gretna, sir. And
 
 THE ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 243 
 
 here have these nincompoops spilt ns in the ditch and 
 smashed the chaise ! " 
 
 "Very provoking," said I. 
 
 *' I don't know when I've been so provoked ! " cried he, 
 with a glance down the road of mortal terror. 
 
 " The father is no doubt very much incensed ? '' I pur- 
 sued, civilly. 
 
 ** God ! " cried the hawbuck. " In short, you see, we 
 must get out of this. And I'll tell you what — it may seem 
 cool, but necessity has no law — if you would lend us your 
 chaise to the next post-house, it would be the very thing, 
 sir.'' 
 
 ** I confess it seems cool," I replied. 
 
 " What's that you say, sir ?" he snapped. 
 
 ** I was agreeing with you," said I. " Yes, it does seem 
 cool ; and what is more to the point, it seems unnecessary. 
 This thing can be arranged in a more satisfactory manner 
 otherwise, I think. You can doubtless ride ? " 
 
 This opened a door on the matter of their previous dis- 
 pute, and the fellow appeared life-sized in his true colours. 
 *' That's what I've been telling her : that, damn her ! she 
 must ride ! " he broke out. " And if the gentleman's of 
 the same mind, why, damme, you shall ! " 
 
 As he said so, he made a snatch at her wrist, which she 
 evaded with horror. 
 
 I stepped between them. 
 
 " No, sir," said I, " the lady shall not." 
 
 He turned on me raging. *' And who are you to inter- 
 fere ? " he roared. 
 
 " There is here no question of who I am," I replied. ** I 
 may be the devil or the Archbishop of Canterbury for what 
 yoQ know, or need know. The point is that I can help 
 you — it appears that nobody else can ; and I will tell you 
 how I propose to do it. I will give the lady a seat in my
 
 244 ST. IVES 
 
 chaise, if yoa will return the compliment by allowing my 
 servant to ride one of your horses." 
 
 I thought he would have sprung at my throat. 
 
 *' You have always the alternative before you : to wait 
 here for the arrival of papa/' I added. 
 
 And that settled him. lie cast another haggard look 
 down the road, and capitulated. 
 
 "I am sure, sir, the lady is very much obliged to you," 
 he said, with an ill grace. 
 
 I gave her my hand ; she mounted like a bird into the 
 chaise ; Eowley, grinning from ear to ear, closed the door 
 behind us ; tlie two impudent rascals of post-boys cheered 
 and laughed aloud as we drove off ; and my own postilion 
 urged his horses at once into a rattling trot. It was plain 
 I was supposed by all to have done a very dashing act, and 
 ravished the bride from the ravisher. 
 
 In the meantime I stole a look at the little lady. She 
 was in a state of pitiable discomposure, and her arms shook 
 on her laj^ in her black lace mittens. 
 
 '' Madam " I began. 
 
 And she, in the same moment, finding her voice : '* 0, 
 what you must think of me ! " 
 
 *' Madam," said I, ''what must any gentleman think, 
 when he sees youth, beauty and innocence in distress ? I 
 wish I could tell you that I was old enough to be your 
 father ; I think we must give that up," I continued, with 
 a smile, " But I will tell you something about myself 
 which ouglit to do as well, and to set that little heart at 
 rest in my society. I am a lover. May I say it of myself — 
 for I am not quite used to all the niceties of English — that 
 I am a true lover ? There is one whom I admire, adore, 
 obey ; she is no less good than she is beautiful ; if she were 
 here, she would take vou to her arms : conceive that she has 
 eent me — that she has said to me, ' Go, be her knight I"*
 
 THE ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 245 
 
 '* 0, I know she must be sweet, I know she must be 
 worthy of you ! " cried the little lady. " She would never 
 forget female decorum — nor make the terrible erratum 
 I've done ! " 
 
 And at this she lifted up her voice and wept. 
 
 This did not forward matters : it was in vain that I 
 begged her to be more composed and to tell me a plain, 
 consecutive tale of her misadventures ; but she continued 
 instead to pour forth the most extraordinary mixture of 
 the correct school miss and the poor untutored little piece 
 of womanhood in a false position — of engrafted pedantry 
 and incoherent nature. 
 
 "1 am certain it must have been judicial blindness," she 
 sobbed. "I can't think how I didn't see it, but I didn't ; 
 and he isn't, is he ? And then a curtain rose . . 
 0, what a moment was that ! But I knew at once that 
 you ivere ; you had but to appear from your carriage, and 
 I knew it. 0, she must be a fortunate young lady ! And 
 I have no fear with you, none — a perfect confidence." 
 
 " Madam," said I, " a gentleman." 
 
 " That's what I mean — a gentleman," she exclaimed. 
 *' And he — and that — he isn't. 0, how shall I dare meet 
 father ! " And disclosing to me her tear-stained face, and 
 opening her arms with a tragic gesture : '' And I am quite 
 disgraced before all the young ladies, my school compan- 
 ions ! " she added. 
 
 " 0, not so bad as that ! " I cried. ''Come, come, you 
 
 exaggerate, my dear Miss ? Excuse me if I am too 
 
 familiar : I have not yet heard your name." 
 
 '"' My name is Dorothy Greensleeves, sir : why should I 
 conceal it ? I fear it will only serve to point an adage to 
 future generations, and I had meant so differently ! There 
 was no young female in the county more emulous to be 
 thought well of than I. And what a fall was there ! 0,
 
 246 ST. IVES 
 
 dear me, what a wicked, piggish donkey of a girl I have 
 made of myself, to be sure ! And there is no hope ! 0, 
 Mr. " 
 
 And at that she paused and asked my name. 
 
 I am not writing my eulogium for the Academy ; I will 
 admit it was unpardonably imbecile, but I told it her. If 
 you had been there — and seen her, ravishingly pretty and 
 little, a baby in years and mind — and heard her talking 
 like a book, with so much of schoolroom propriety in her 
 manner, with such an innocent despair in the matter — you 
 would probably have told her yours. She repeated it after 
 me. 
 
 " I shall pray for you all my life,*' she said. " Every 
 night, when I retire to rest, the last thing I shall do is to 
 remember you by name." 
 
 Presently I succeeded in winning from her her tale, 
 which was much what I had anticipated : a tale of a 
 schoolhouse, a walled garden, a fruit-tree that concealed a 
 bench, an impudent raff posturing in church, an exchange 
 of flowers and vows over the garden wall, a silly schoolmate 
 for a confidante, a chaise and four, and the most immedi- 
 ate and perfect disenchantment on the part of the little 
 lady. *' And there is nothing to be done ! " she wailed in 
 conclusion. ** My error is irretrievable, I am quite forced 
 to that conclusion. 0, Monsieur de Saint-Yves I Who 
 would have thought that I could have been such a blind, 
 wicked donkey ! " 
 
 I should have said before — only that I really do not 
 know when it came in — that we had been overtaken by the 
 two post-boys, Rowley and Mr. Bellamy, which was the 
 hawbuck's name, bestriding the four post-horses ; and that 
 these formed a sort of cavalry escort, riding now before, 
 now behind the chaise, and Bellamy occasionally posturing 
 at the window and obliging us with some of his conversa-
 
 THE ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 247 
 
 tion. He was so ill received that I declare I was tempted 
 to pity him, remembering from what a height he had 
 fallen, and how few hours ago it was since the lady had 
 herself fled to his arms, all blushes and ardour. Well, 
 these great strokes of fortune usually befall the unworthy, 
 and Bellamy was now the legitimate object of m;^ com- 
 miseration and the ridicule of his own post-boys ! 
 
 " Miss Dorothy,^' said I, " you wish to be delivered 
 from this man ? " 
 
 '' 0, if it were possible ! " she cried. " But not by vio- 
 lence.'" 
 
 "Not in the least, ma'am," I replied. "The simplest 
 thing in life. We are in a civilized country ; the man's a 
 malefactor " 
 
 "0, never!" she cried. "Do not even dream it! 
 With all his faults, I know he is not that." 
 
 " Anyway, he's in the wrong in this affair — on the wrong 
 side of the law, call it what you please," said I ; and with 
 that, our four horsemen having for the moment headed us by 
 a considerable interval, I hailed my post-boy and inquired 
 who was the nearest magistrate and where he lived. Arch- 
 deacon Clitheroe, he told me, a prodigious dignitary, and 
 one who lived but a lane or two back, and at the distance 
 of only a mile or two out of the direct road. I showed 
 him the king's medallion. 
 
 " Take the lady there, and at full gallop," I cried. 
 
 " Right, sir ! Mind yourself," says the postilion. 
 
 And before I could have thought it possible, he had 
 turned the carriage to the right-about and we were gallop- 
 ing south. 
 
 Our outriders were quick to remark and imitate the 
 manoeuvre, and came flying after us with a vast deal of 
 indiscriminate shouting ; so that the fine, sober picture of 
 a carriage and escort, that we had presented but a moment
 
 248 ST. IVES 
 
 back, was truusformed in the twinkling of an eye into the 
 image of a noisy fox-chase. The two postilions and my 
 own saucy rogue were, of course, disinterested actors in 
 the comedy ; they rode for the mere sport, keeping in a 
 body, their mouths full of laughter, waving their hats as 
 they came on, and crying (as the fancy struck them) 
 "Tally-ho!" "Stop thief!" "A highwayman! A high- 
 wayman ! " It was otherguess work with Bellamy. That 
 gentleman no sooner observed our change of direction than 
 he turned his horse with so much violence that the poor 
 animal was almost cast upon its side, and launched her in 
 immediate and desperate pursuit. As he approached I 
 saw that his face Avas deadly white and that he carried a 
 drawn pistol in his hand. I turned at once to the poor 
 little bride that was to have been, and now was not to be ; 
 she, upon her side, deserting the other window, turned as 
 if to meet me. 
 
 "0, 0, don't let him kill me ! '* she screamed. 
 
 " Never fear," I replied. 
 
 Her face was distorted with terror. Her hands took hold 
 upon me with the instinctive clutch of an infant. The 
 chaise gave a flying lurch, which took the feet from under 
 me and tumbled us anyhow upon the seat. And almost in 
 the same moment the head of Bellamy appeared in the 
 window which Missy had left free for him. 
 
 Conceive the situation ! The little lady and I were fall- 
 ing — or had just fallen — backward on the seat, and offered 
 to the eye a somewhat ambiguous picture. The chaise 
 was speeding at a furious pace, and with the most violent 
 leaps and lurches, along the highway. Into this bounding 
 receptacle Bellamy interjected his head, his pistol arm, 
 and his pistol ; and since his own horse was travelling still 
 faster than the chaise, he must withdraw all of them again 
 in the inside of the fraction of a minute. He did so, but
 
 THE ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 249 
 
 he left the charge of the pistol behind him — whether by 
 design or accident I shall never know, and I daresay he 
 has forgotten ! Probably he had only meant to threaten, 
 in hopes of causing us to arrest our flight. In the same 
 moment came the explosion and a pitiful cry from Missy ; 
 and my gentleman, making certain he had struck her, 
 went down the road pursued by the furies, turned at the 
 first corner, took a flying leap over the thorn hedge, and 
 disappeared across country in the least possible time. 
 
 Eowley was ready and eager to pursue ; but I withheld 
 him, thinking we were excellently quit of Mr. Bellamy, at 
 no more cost than a scratch on the forearm and a bullet- 
 hole in the left-hand claret-coloured panel. And accord- 
 ingly, but now at a more decent pace, we proceeded on our 
 way to Archdeacon Clitheroe's. Missy's gratitude and ad- 
 miration were aroused to a high pitch by this dramatic 
 Bcene, and what she was pleased to call my wound. She 
 must dress it for me with her handkerchief, a service 
 which she rendered me even with tears. I could well have 
 spared them, not loving on the whole to be made ridiculous, 
 and the injury being in the nature of a cat's scratch. In- 
 deed, I would have suggested for her kind care rather the 
 cure of my coat-sleeve, which had suffered worse in the 
 encounter ; but I was too wise to risk the anti-climax. 
 That she had been rescued by a hero, that the hero should 
 have been wounded in the affray, and his wound bandaged 
 with her handkerchief (which it could not even bloody), 
 ministered incredibly to the recovery of her self-respect ; 
 and I could hear her relate the incident to *' the young 
 ladies, my school-companions," in the most approved man- 
 ner of Mrs. Radcliffe ! To have insisted on the torn coat- 
 sleeve would have been unmannerly, if not inhuman. 
 
 Presently the residence of the archdeacon began to heave 
 in sight. A chaise and four smoking horses stood by the
 
 250 ST. IVES 
 
 steps, and made way for ns on our approach ; and even as 
 we alighted there appeared from the interior of the house 
 a tall ecclesiastic, and beside him a little, headstrong, 
 ruddy man, in a towering passion and brandishing over 
 his head a roll of paper. At sight of him Miss Dorothy 
 flung herself on her knees with the most moving adjura- 
 tions, calling him father, assuring him she was wholly 
 cured and entirely repentant of her disobedience, and en- 
 treating forgiveness ; and I soon saw that she need fear no 
 great severity from Mr. Greensleeves, who showed himself 
 extraordinarily fond, loud, greedy of caresses and prodigal 
 of tears. 
 
 To give myself a countenance, as well as to have all 
 ready for the road when I should find occasion, I turned 
 to quit scores with Bellamy's two postilions. They had 
 not the least claim on me, but one of which they were 
 quite ignorant — that I was a fugitive. It is the worst 
 feature of that false position that every gratuity becomes a 
 case of conscience. You must not leave behind you any 
 one discontented nor any one grateful. But the whole 
 business had been such a " hurrah-boys " from the begin- 
 ning, and had gone off in the fifth act so like a melodrama, 
 in explosions, reconciliations, and the rape of a post-horse, 
 that it was plainly impossible to keep it covered. It was 
 plain it would have to be talked over in all the inn-kitchens 
 for thirty miles about, and likely for six months to come. 
 It only remained for me, therefore, to settle on that 
 gratuity which should be least conspicuous — so large that 
 nobody could grumble, so small that nobody would be 
 tempted to boast. My decision was hastily and not wisely 
 taken. The one fellow spat on his tip (so he called it) for 
 luck ; the other, developing a sudden streak of piety, 
 prayed God bless me with fervour. It seemed a demon- 
 stration was brewing, and I determined to be off at once.
 
 THE ADVENTURE OF THE EUNAWAY COUPLE 251 
 
 Bidding my own post-boy and Eowley be in readiness for 
 an immediate start, I reascended the terrace and presented 
 myself, hat in hand, before Mr. Greensleeves and the arch- 
 deacon. 
 
 *' Yon will excuse me, I trnst,^* said I. '' I think shame 
 to interrupt this agreeable scene of family effusion, which 
 I have been privileged in some small degree to bring 
 about.** 
 
 And at these words the storm broke. 
 
 " Small degree ! small degree, sir ! '* cries the father ; 
 *' that shall not pass, Mr. St. Eaves ! If I've got my 
 darling back, and none the worse for that vagabone rascal, 
 I know whom I have to thank. Shake hands with me — 
 tip to the elbows, sir ! A Frenchman you may be, but 
 you're one of the right breed, by God ! And, by God, 
 sir, you may have anything you care to ask of me, down 
 to Dolly's hand, by God ! " 
 
 All this he roared out in a voice surprisingly powerful 
 from so small a person. Every word was thus audible to 
 the servants, who had followed them out of the house and 
 now congregated about us on the terrace, as well as to 
 Eowley and the five postilions on the gravel sweep below. 
 The sentiments expressed were popular ; some ass, whom 
 the devil moved to be my enemy, proposed three cheers, 
 and they were given with a will. To hear my own name 
 resounding amid acclamations in the hills of Westmoreland 
 was flattering, perhaps ; but it was inconvenient at a mo- 
 ment when (as I was morally persuaded) police handbills 
 were already sjDeeding after me at the rate of a hundred 
 miles a day. 
 
 Nor was that the end of it. The archdeacon must pre- 
 sent his compliments, and press upon me some of his 
 West India sherry, and I was carried into a vastly fine 
 library^ where I was presented to hi§ lady wife* Whil.Q
 
 202 ST. IVKS 
 
 we were at sherry in the library, ale was handed ronnd 
 upon tlie terrace. Speeches were made, hands were shak- 
 en. Missy (at her father's request) kissed me farewell, and 
 the whole party reaccompanied mc to the terrace, where 
 they stood waving hats and handkerchiefs, and crying fare- 
 wells to all the echoes of the mountains until the chaise 
 had disappeared. 
 
 The echoes of the mountains were engaged in saying to 
 me privately : "You fool, you have done it now I" 
 
 " They do seem to have got ^old of your name, Mr. 
 Anne," said Kowley. " It weren't my fault tliis time." 
 
 *'It was one of those accidents that can never be fore- 
 seen," said I, affecting a dignity that I was far from feel- 
 ing. " Some one recognised me," 
 
 " Which on 'em, Mr. Anne ? " said the rascal. 
 
 " That is a senseless question ; it can make no differ- 
 ence who it was," I returned. 
 
 "No, nor that it can't !" cried Rowle}-. "I say, Mr. 
 Anne, sir, it's what you would call a jolly mess, ain't it ? 
 looks like ' clean bowled out in the middle stump,' don't 
 it?" 
 
 " I fail to understand you, Rowley." 
 
 " Well, what I mean is, what are we to do about this 
 one ? " pointing to the postilion in front of us, as he al- 
 ternately hid and revealed his patched breeches to the trot 
 of his horse. " He see you get in this morning under Mr. 
 Ramornie — I was very piticular to Mr. Ramornic you, if 
 you remember, sir — and he see you get in again under ]\Ir. 
 Saint Eaves, and whatever's he going to see you get out 
 under ? that's what worries me, sir. It don't seem to me 
 like as if the position was what you call stratetegic ! " 
 
 " Parrrhleu ! will you let me be ! " I cried. " I have 
 to think ; you cannot imagine how your constant idiotic 
 prattle annoys me."
 
 THE ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 253 
 
 " Beg pardon, Mr. Anne/' said he ; and the next mo- 
 ment, " You wouldn't like for us to do our French now, 
 would yon, Mr. Anne ? " 
 
 '' Certainly not," said I. " Play upon your flageolet." 
 
 The which he did, with what seemed to me to be irony. 
 
 Conscience doth make cowards of us all ! I was so 
 downcast by my pitiful mismanagement of the morning's 
 business, that I shrank from the eye of my own hired in- 
 fant, and read offensive meanings into his idle tootling. 
 
 I took off my coat, and set to mending it, soldier-fash- 
 ion, with a needle and thread. There is nothing more 
 conducive to thought, above all in arduous circumstances ; 
 and as I sewed, I gradually gained a clearness upon my 
 affairs. I must be done Avith the claret-coloured chaise at 
 once. It should be sold at the next stage for what it would 
 bring. Rowley and I must take back to the road on our 
 four feet, and after a decent interval of trudging, get 
 places on some coach for Edinburgh again under new 
 names ! So much trouble and toil, so much extra risk 
 and expense and loss of time, and all for a slip of the 
 tongue to a little lady in blue 1
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE IN-N-KEEPER OF KIRKBY-LON'SDALE 
 
 I HAD hitherto conceived and partly carried out an ideal 
 that was dear to my heart. Eowley and I descended from 
 our claret-coloured chaise, a couple of correctly dressed, 
 brisk, bright-eyed young fellows, like a pair of aristocratic 
 mice ; attending singly to our own affairs, communicating 
 solely with each other, and that with the niceties and civ- 
 ilities of drill. We would pass through the little crowd 
 before the door Avith high-bred preoccupation, inoffensively 
 haughty, after the best English pattern ; and disappear 
 within, followed by the envy and admiration of the by- 
 standers, a model master and servant, point-device in every 
 ^art. It was a heavy thought to me, as we drew up before 
 the inn at Kirkby-Lonsdale, that this scene was now to be 
 enacted for the last time. Alas ! and had I known it, it 
 "was to go off with so inferior a grace ! 
 
 I had been injudiciously liberal to the post-boys of the 
 cb'Ise and four. My own post-boy, he of the patched 
 breeches, now stood before me, his eyes glittering with 
 greed, his hand advanced. It was plain he anticipated 
 something extraordinary by way of a pourloire ; and con- 
 sidering the marches and counter-marches by which I had 
 extended the stage, the military character of our affairs 
 with Mr. Bellamy, and the bad example I had set before 
 him at the archdeacon's, something exceptional was cer- 
 tainly to be done. But these are always nice questions, to 
 
 254
 
 THE INN-KEEPER OF KIRKBY-LONSDALE 255 
 
 a foreigner above all ; a sliade too little will suggest nig- 
 gardliness, a shilling too mnch smells of hush-money. 
 Fresh from the scene at the archdeacon^s, and flushed by 
 the idea that I was now nearly done with the responsibil- 
 ities of the clai'et-coloured chaise, I put into his hands 
 five guineas ; and the amount served only to waken Lis 
 cupidity. 
 
 " 0, come, sir, you ain't going to fob me off with this ? 
 Why, I seen fire at your side ! " he cried. 
 
 It would never do to give him more ; I felt I should 
 become the fable of Kirkby-Lonsdale if I did ; and I looked 
 him in the face, sternly but still smiling, and addressed 
 him with a voice of uncompromising firmness. 
 
 " If you do not like it, give it back," said I. 
 
 He pocketed the guineas with the quickness of a con- 
 jurer, and like a base-born cockney as he was, fell instantly 
 to casting dirt. 
 
 "'Ave your own way of it, Mr. Eamornie — leastways 
 Mr. St. Eaves, or whatever your blessed name may be. 
 Look 'ere " — turning for symjDathy to the stable-boys — 
 " this is a blessed business. Blessed 'ard, I calls it. 'Ere 
 I takes up a blessed son of a pop-gun what calls hisself any- 
 thing you care to mention, and turns out to be a blessed 
 mounseer at the end of it ! 'Ere 'ave I been drivin' of him 
 up and down all day, a-carrying off of gals, a-shootin' of 
 pistyils, and a-drinkin' of sherry and hale ; and wot does 
 he up and give me but a blank, blank, blanketing blank ! " 
 
 The fellow's language had become too powerful for re- 
 production, and I pass it by. 
 
 Meanwhile I observed Eowley fretting visibly at the bit ; 
 another moment, and he would have added a last touch of 
 the ridiculous to our arrival by coming to his hands with 
 the postilion. 
 
 *' Rowley ! " cried I reprovingly.
 
 2GG ST. IVES 
 
 Strictly it should have been Gammon ; but in the hurry 
 of the moment, my fault (I can only hope) passed unper- 
 ceived. At the same time I caught the eye of the post- 
 master. He was long and lean, and brown and bilious ; he 
 had the drooping nose of the humourist, and the quick at- 
 tention of a man of parts. lie read my embarrassment in 
 a glance, stepj)ed instantly forward, sent the post-boy to 
 the right-about with half a word, and was back next mo- 
 ment at my side. 
 
 " Dinner in a private room, sir ? Very well. John, 
 No. 4 ! What wine would you care to mention ? Very 
 well, sir. Will you please to order fresh horses ? Not, 
 eir ? Very well.'* 
 
 Each of these expressions was accompanied by something 
 in the nature of a bow, and all were prefaced by something 
 in the nature of a smile, which I could very well have 
 done without. The man's politeness was from the teeth 
 outwards ; behind and within, I was conscious of a perpet- 
 ual scrutiny : the scene at his doorstep, the random con- 
 fidences of the post-boy, had not been thrown away on this 
 observer ; and it was under a strong fear of coming trouble 
 that I was shown at last into my private room. I was in 
 half a mind to have put off the whole business. But the 
 truth is, now my name had got abroad, my fear of the mail 
 that was coming, and the handbills it should contain, had 
 waxed inordinately, and I felt I could never eat a meal in 
 peace till I had severed my connection with the claret- 
 coloured chaise. 
 
 Accordingly, as soon as I had done with dinner, I sent my 
 compliments to the landlord and requested he should take 
 a glass of wine witli me. He came ; we exchanged the nec- 
 essary civilities, and presently I approached my business. 
 
 " By-the-bye," said I, " we had a brush down the road 
 to-day. I dare say you may have heard of it ? "
 
 THE INN-KEEPER OF KIRKBY-LONSUALE 257 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " And I was so unlucky as to get a pistol ball in the 
 panel of my chaise/' I continued, " which makes it simply 
 useless to me. Do you know any one likely to buy ? " 
 
 " I can well understand that/' said the landlord. " I was 
 looking at it just now ; it's as good as ruined, is that chaise. 
 General rule, people don't like chaises with bullet holes." 
 
 ** Too much Romance of the Forest?" I suggested, re- 
 calling my little friend of the morning, and what I was 
 sure had been her favourite reading — Mrs. Radcliffe's novels. 
 
 " Just so," said he. " They may be right, they may be 
 wrong ; I'm not the judge. But I suppose it's natural, 
 after all, for respectable people to like things respectable 
 about them ; not bullet holes, nor puddles of blood, nor 
 men with aliases." 
 
 I took a glass of wine and held it up to the light to 
 show that my hand was steady. 
 
 *' Yes," said I, " I suppose so." 
 
 **You have papers, of course, showing you are the 
 proper owner ? " he inquired. 
 
 ''There is the bill, stamped and receipted," said I, 
 tossing it across to him. 
 
 He looked at it. 
 
 " This all you have ? " he asked. 
 
 '' It is enough, at least," said I. *' It shows you where 
 I bought and what I paid for it." 
 
 " Well, I don't know," he said. " You want some 
 paper of identification." 
 
 " To identify the chaise ? " I inquired. 
 
 " Not at all : to identify you," said he. 
 
 '* My good sir, remember yourself ! " said I. " The 
 title-deeds of my estate are in that despatch-box ; but you 
 do not seriously suppose that I should allow you to ex- 
 amine them ?" 
 17
 
 258 ST. IVES 
 
 *' Well, you see, this paper proves that some Mr. Ra- 
 moriiie paid seventy guineas for a chaise/' said the fellow. 
 " That's all well and good ; but who's to prove to me that 
 you are Mr. Ramornie ? " 
 
 " Fellow ! " cried I. 
 
 '' 0, fellow as much as you please ! " said he. " Fellow, 
 with all my heart ! That changes nothing. I am fellow, 
 of course — obtrusive fellow, impudent fellow, if you like — 
 but who are you ? I hear of you with two names ; I hear 
 of you running away with young ladies, and getting 
 cheered for a Frenchman, which seems odd ; and one 
 thing I will go bail for, that you were in a blue fright when 
 the post-boy began to tell tales at my door. In short, sir, 
 you may be a very good gentleman ; but I don't know 
 enough about you, and I'll trouble you for your papers, or 
 to go before a magistrate. Take your choice ; if I'm not 
 fine enough, I hope the magistrates are." 
 
 *' My good man," I stammered, for though I had found 
 my voice, I could scarce be said to have recovered my 
 wits, *' tliis is most unusual, most rude. Is it the custom 
 in Westmoreland that gentlemen should be insulted ? " 
 
 " That depends," said he. " When it's suspected that 
 gentlemen are spies, it is the custom ; and a good custom 
 too. No, no," he broke out, perceiving me to make a 
 movement. " Botb hands upon the table, my gentleman ! 
 I want no pistol balls in my chaise panels." 
 
 " Surely, sir, you do me strange injustice ! " said I, now 
 the master of myself. '' You see me sitting here, a monu- 
 ment of tranquillity : pray may I help myself to wine with- 
 out umbraging you ? " 
 
 I took this attitude in sheer despair. I had no plan, no 
 hope. The best I could imagine was to spin the business 
 out some minutes longer, then capitulate. At least, I 
 would not capitulate one moment too soon.
 
 t( 
 
 THE INN-KEEPER OF KIRKBY-LONSDALE 259 
 
 '* Am I to take that for no ? " lie asked. 
 
 ** Referring to your former obliging proposal V said I. 
 
 My good sir, you are to take it, as you say, for ' No/ 
 Certainly I will not show you my deeds ; certainly I will 
 not rise from table and trundle out to see your magistrates. 
 I have too much respect for my digestion, and too -r tie 
 curiosity in justices of the peace." 
 
 He leaned forward, looked me nearly in the face, and 
 reached out one hand to the bell-rope. " See here, my fine 
 fellow \" said he. " Do you see that bell-rope ? Let me 
 tell you, there's a boy waiting below : one jingle, and he 
 goes to fetch the constable." 
 
 *' Do you tell me so?" said I. "Well, there's no 
 accounting for tastes ! I have a prejudice against the 
 society of constables, but if it is your fancy to have one in 
 
 for the dessert " I shrugged my shoulders lightly. 
 
 " Eeally, you know," I added, " this is vastly entertaining. 
 I assure you, I am looking on, with all the interest of a 
 man of the world, at the development of your highly origi- 
 nal character." 
 
 He continued to study my face without speech, his hand 
 still on the button of the bell-rope, his eyes in mine ; this 
 was the decisive heat. My face seemed to myself to dislimn 
 under his gaze, my expression to change, the smile (with 
 which I had begun) to degenerate into the grin of the man 
 upon the rack. I was besides harassed with doubts. An 
 innocent man, I argued, would have resented the fellow's 
 impudence an hour ago ; and by my continued endurance 
 of the ordeal, I was simply signing and sealing my confes- 
 sion ; in short, I had reached the end of my powers. 
 
 " Have you any objection to my putting my hands in my 
 breeches pockets ?" I inquired. "Excuse me mentioning 
 it, but you showed yourself so extremely nervous a moment 
 back/'
 
 260 ST. IVES 
 
 My voice was not all I could have wished, but it sufficed. 
 I could hear it tremble, but the landlord apparently could 
 not. He turned away and drew a long breath, and you 
 may be sure I was quick to follow his example. 
 
 " You're a cool hand at least, and that's the sort I like,'* 
 said he. " Be you what you please, I'll deal square. I'll 
 take the chaise for a hundred pound down, and throw the 
 dinner in." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," I cried, wholly mystified by this 
 form of words. 
 
 " You pay me a hundred down," he repeated, "and I'll 
 take the chaise. It's very little more tlian it cost," he 
 added, with a grin, " and you know you must get it ofE 
 your hands somehow." 
 
 I do not know when I have been better entertained than 
 by this impudent proposal. It was broadly funny, and I 
 suppose the least tempting offer in the world. For all that, 
 it came very welcome, for it gave me the occasion to laugh. 
 This I did with the most complete abandonment, till the 
 tears ran down my cheeks ; and ever and again, as the fit 
 abated, I would get another view of the landlord's face, and 
 go off into another paroxysm. 
 
 '' Y^ou droll creature, you will be the death of me yet ! '* 
 I cried, drying my eyes. 
 
 My friend was now wholly disconcerted ; he knew not 
 where to look, nor yet what to say ; and began for the first 
 time to conceive it j)ossible he was mistaken. 
 
 " You seem rather to enjoy a laugli, sir," said he. 
 
 " 0, yes ! I am quite an original," I replied, and laughed 
 again. 
 
 Presently, in a changed voice, he offered me twenty 
 pounds for the cliaise ; I ran him up to twenty-five, and 
 closed with the offer : indeed, I was glad to get anything ; 
 and if I haggled, it was not in the desire of gain, but with
 
 THE INN-KEEPEE OF KIRKBY-LO^s^SDALE 261 
 
 the view at any price of securing a safe retreat. For, 
 altliougli hostilities were suspended, he was yet far from 
 satisfied ; and I could read his continued suspicions in the 
 cloudy eye that still hovered about my face. At last they 
 took shape in words. 
 
 " This is all very well/' says he : " you carry it off well; 
 but for all that, I must do my duty." 
 
 I had my strong effect in reserve ; it was to burn my 
 ships with a vengeance ! I rose. " Leave the room,'' said 
 I. " This is insufferable. Is the man mad ?" And then, 
 as if already half ashamed of my passion : " I can take a joke 
 as well as any one," I added ; '' but this passes measure. 
 Send my servant and the bill." 
 
 When he had left me alone, I considered my own valour 
 with amazement. I had insulted him ; I had sent him 
 away alone ; now, if ever, he would take what was the only 
 sensible resource, and fetch the constable. But there was 
 something instinctively treacherous about the man, which 
 shrank from plain courses. And, with all his cleverness, 
 he missed the occasion of fame. Eowley and I were suffered 
 to walk out of his door, with all our baggage, on foot, Avith 
 no destination named, except in the vague statement that 
 we were come *'to view the lakes"; and my friend only 
 watched our departure with his chin in his hand, still 
 moodily irresolute. 
 
 I think this one of my great successes. I was exposed, 
 unmasked, summoned to do a perfectly natural act, which 
 must prove my doom and which I had not the slightest 
 pretext for refusing. I kept my head, stuck to my guns, 
 and, against all likelihood, here I was once more at liberty 
 and in the king's highway. This was a strong lesson never 
 to despair ; and at the same time, how many hints to be 
 cautious ! and what a perplexed and dubious business the 
 whole question of my escape now iippeared ! That I should
 
 262 ST. IVES 
 
 have risked perishing upon a trumpery question of a 
 2)Ourhoire, depicted, in lively colours, the perils that per- 
 petually surrounded us. Though, to be sure, the initial 
 mistake had been committed before that ; and if I had not 
 suffered myself to be drawn a little deep in confidences to 
 the innocent Dolly, there need have been no tumble at the 
 inn of Kirkby-Lonsdale. I took the lesson to heart, and 
 promised myself in the future to be more reserved. It was 
 none of my business to attend to broken chaises or ship- 
 wrecked travellers. I had my hands full of my own 
 affairs ; and my best defence would be a little more natural 
 selfishness and a trifle less imbecile good-nature.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 I MEET A CHEERFUL EXTRAVAGANT 
 
 I PASS over tlie next fifty or sixty leagues of our journey 
 without comment. The reader must be growing weary of 
 scenes of travel ; and for my own part I have no cause to 
 recall these particular miles with any pleasure. We were 
 mainly occupied with attempts to obliterate our trail, 
 Avhich (as the result showed) were far from successful ; for 
 on my cousin following, he was able to run me home with 
 the least possible loss of time, following the claret-coloured 
 chaise to Kirkby-Lonsdale, where I think the landlord 
 must have wept to learn what he had missed, and tracing 
 us thereafter to the doors of the coach office in Edinburgh 
 without a single check. Fortune did not favour me, and 
 why should I recapitulate the details of futile precautions 
 which deceived nobody, and wearisome arts which proved 
 to be artless ? 
 
 The day was drawing to an end when Mr. Rowley and I 
 bowled into Edinburgh, to the stirring sound of the guard's 
 bugle and the clattering team. I was here upon my field 
 of battle ; on the scene of my former captivity, escape and 
 exploits ; and in the same city with my love. My heart 
 expanded ; I have rarely felt more of a hero. All down 
 the Bridges, I sat by the driver with my arms folded and 
 my face set, unflinchingly meeting every eye, and prepared 
 every moment for a cry of recognition. Hundreds of the 
 population were in the habit of visiting the Castle, where 
 
 263
 
 264 BT. IVES 
 
 it was my practice (before the days of Flora) to make my- 
 self conspicuous among the prisoners ; and I think it an ex- 
 traordinary thing that I should have encountered so few to 
 recognise me. But doubtless a clean chin is a disguise in 
 itself ; and the change is great from a suit of sulphur yel- 
 low to fine linen, a well-fitting mouse-coloured great-coat 
 furred in black, a pair of tight trousers of fashionable cut, 
 and a hat of inimitable curl. After all, it was more likely 
 that I should have recognised our visitors, than that they 
 should have identified the modish gentleman with the mis- 
 erable prisoner in the Castle. 
 
 I was glad to set foot on the flagstones, and to escape 
 from the crowd that had assembled to receive the mail. 
 Here we were, with but little daylight before us, and that 
 on Saturday afternoon, the eve of the famous Scottish 
 Sabbath, adrift in the New Town of Edinburgh, and over- 
 laden with baggage. We carried it ourselves. I would 
 not take a cab, nor so much as hire a jDorter, who might 
 afterwards serve as a link between my lodgings and the 
 mail, and connect me again with the claret-coloured chaise 
 and Aylesbury. For I was resolved to break the chain of 
 evidence for good, and to begin life afresh (so far as re- 
 gards caution) with a new character. The first step was to 
 find lodgings, and to find them quickly. This was the 
 more needful as Mr. Eowley and I, in our smart clothes and 
 with our cumbrous burthen, made a noticeable appearance 
 in the streets at that time of the day and in that quarter of 
 the town, which was largely given up to fine folk, bucks 
 and dandies and young ladies, or respectable professional 
 men on their way home to dinner. 
 
 On the north side of St. James's Square I was so happy 
 as to spy a bill in a third-floor window. I was equally in- 
 different to cost and convenience in my choice of a lodging 
 — " any port in a storm " was the principle on which I waa
 
 I MEET A CHEERFUL EXTRAVAGANT 265 
 
 prepared to act ; and Eowley and I made at once for the 
 common entrance and scaled the stair. 
 
 We were admitted by a very sour-looking female in bom- 
 bazine. I gathered she had all her life been depressed by 
 a series of bereavements, the last of which might very well 
 have befallen her the day before ; and I instinctively low- 
 ered my voice when I addressed her. She admitted she 
 had rooms to let — even showed them to ns — a sitting-room 
 and bedroom in a suite, commanding a fine prospect to the 
 Firth and Fifeshire, and in themselves well proportioned 
 and comfortably furnished, with pictures on the wall, 
 shells on the mantelpiece, and several books ujjon the table, 
 which I found afterwards to be all of a devotional charac- 
 ter, and all presentation copies, " to my Christian friend,'* 
 or " to my devout acquaintance in the Lord, Bethiah 
 McEanken." Beyond this my "Christian friend "could 
 not be made to advance : no, not even to do that which 
 seemed the most natural and pleasing thing in the world — 
 I mean to name her price — but stood before us shaking 
 lier head, and at times mourning like the dove, the picture 
 of depression and defence. She had a voice the most 
 querulous I have ever heard, and with this she produced a 
 whole regiment of difficulties and criticisms. 
 
 She could not promise us attendance. 
 
 " Well, madam," said I, " and what is my servant 
 for?" 
 
 " Him ? " she asked. *' Be gude to us ! Is he your ser- 
 vant ? " 
 
 '' I am sorry, ma'am, he meets with your disapproval." 
 
 "Na, I never said that But he's young. He'll be a 
 great breaker, I'm thinkiu'. Ay ! he'll be a great respon- 
 sibeelity to ye, like. Does he attend to his releegion ? " 
 
 " Yes, m'm," returned Eowley, with admirable promp- 
 titude, and, immediately closing his eyes, as if from habit,
 
 206 ST. IVES 
 
 repeated the following distich with more celerity than 
 fervour r^— 
 
 *' Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, 
 Bless the bed that I lie on ! " 
 
 *' Nhm ! " said the lady, and maintained an awful si- 
 lence. 
 
 " Well, ma'am,'^ said I, '' it seems we are never to hear 
 the beginning of your terms, let alone the end of them. 
 Come — a good movement ! and let us be either off or on.'' 
 She opened her lips slowly. " Ony raferences ? " she 
 inquired, in a voice like a bell. 
 
 I opened my pocket-book and showed her a handful of 
 bank-bills. "I think, madam, that these are unexception- 
 able,'* said I. 
 
 ** Ye'll be wantin' breakfast late ? " was her reply. 
 " Madam, we want breakfast at whatever hour it suits 
 you to give it, from four in the morning till four in the 
 afternoon !" I cried. ^' Only tell us your figure, if your 
 mouth be large enough to let it out ! " 
 
 ** I couldnae give ye supper the nicht," came the echo. 
 " We shall go out to supper, you incorrigible female ! " 
 I vowed, between laughter and tears. " Here — this is 
 going to end ! I want you for a landlady — let me tell you 
 that ! — and I am going to have my way. You won't tell 
 me what you charge ? Very well ; I will do without ! I 
 can trust you ! You don't seem to know when you have a 
 good lodger ; but I know perfectly when I have an honest 
 landlady ! Rowley, unstrap the valises ! " 
 
 Will it be credited ? The monomaniac fell to rating me 
 for my indiscretion ! But the battle was over ; these were 
 her last guns, and more in the nature of a salute than of 
 renewed hostilities. And presently she condescended on 
 very moderate terms, and Rowley and I were able to escape
 
 I MEET A CHEERFUL EXTRAVAGANT 267 
 
 in quest of supper. Much time had, however, been lost ; 
 the sun was long down, the lamps glimmered along the 
 streets, and the voice of a Avatchman already resounded in 
 the neighbouring Leith Eoad. On our first arrival I had 
 observed a place of entertainment not far off, in a street 
 behind the Register House. Thither we found ou::- way, 
 and sat down to a late dinner alone. But we had scarce 
 given our orders before the door opened, and a tall young 
 fellow entered with something of a lurch, looked about 
 him, and approached the same table. 
 
 " Give yon good evening, most grave and reverend se- 
 niors ! " said he. " Will you permit a wanderer, a pilgrim 
 — the pilgrim of love, in short — to come to temporary anch- 
 or under your lee ? I care not who knows it, but I have 
 a passionate aversion from the bestial practice of solitary 
 feed in Of 
 
 t •" 
 
 " You are welcome, sir," said I, " if I may take upon 
 me so far to play the host in a public place." 
 
 He looked startled, and fixed a hazy eye on me, as he sat 
 down. 
 
 " Sir," said he, '' you are a man not without some tinct- 
 ure of letters, I perceive ! What shall we drink, sir ? " 
 
 I mentioned I had already called for a pot of porter. 
 
 " A modest pot — the seasonable quencher ? " said he. 
 " Well, I do not know but what I could look at a modest 
 pot myself ! I am, for the moment, in precarious health. 
 Much study hath heated my brain, much walking wearied 
 my — well, it seems to be more my eyes ! " 
 
 *' You have walked far, I daresay ? " I suggested. 
 
 " Not so m.uch far as often," he replied. " There is in 
 this city — to which, I think, you are a stranger ? Sir, to 
 your very good health, and our better acquaintance I — 
 there is, in this city of Dunedin, a certain imiDlication of 
 streets which reflects the utmost credit on the designer and
 
 268 ST. IVES 
 
 the publicans — at every hundred yards is seated the Judi- 
 cious Tavern, so that persons of contemphitive mind are 
 secure, at moderate distances, of refreshment, I have been 
 doing a trot in that favoured quarter, favoured by art and 
 nature. A few chosen comrades — enemies of publicity 
 and friends to wit and wine — obliged me with their society. 
 ' Along the cool, sequestered vale of Register Street we 
 kept the uneven tenor of our way,' sir." 
 
 " It struck me, as you came in '' I began. 
 
 " 0, don't make any bones about it ! " he interrupted. 
 *' Of course it struck you ! and let me tell you, I was dev- 
 ilish lucky not to strike myself. When I entered this 
 apartment I shone ' with all the pomp and j^rodigality of 
 brandy and water,' as the poet Gray has in another place 
 expressed it. Powerful bard. Gray ! but a niminy-piminy 
 creature, afraid of a petticoat and a bottle — not a man, sir, 
 not a man ! Excuse me for being so troublesome, but what 
 the devil have I done with my fork ? Thank you, I am 
 sure. Tenndentia, quoad me ipsiim, hrevis colligo est. I 
 sit and eat, sir, in a London fog, I should bring a link- 
 boy to table with me ; and I would too, if the little brutes 
 were only washed ! I intend to found a Philanthropical 
 Society for Washing the Deserving Poor and Shaving Sol- 
 diers. I am pleased to observe that, although not of an 
 nnmilitary bearing, you are apparently shaved. In my 
 calendar of the virtues, shaving comes next to drinking. 
 A gentleman may be a low-minded ruffian without six- 
 pence, but he will always be close shaved. See me, with 
 the eye of fancy, in the chill hours of the morning, say 
 about a quarter to twelve, noon — see me awake ! First 
 thing of all, Avithout one thought of the plausible but un- 
 satisfactory small beer, or the healthful tliough insipid 
 soda-water, I take the deadly razor in my vacillating 
 grasp ; I proceed to skate upon the margin of eternity.
 
 I MEET A CHEERFUL EXTRAVAGANT 269 
 
 Stimulating thought ! I bleed, perhaps, but with medica- 
 ble wounds. The stubble reaped, I pass out of my cham- 
 ber, calm but triumphant. To employ a hackneyed phrase, 
 I would not call Lord Wellington my uncle ! I, too, have 
 dared, perhaps bled, before the imminent deadly shaving 
 table.'' 
 
 In this manner the bombastic fellow continued to enter- 
 tain me all through dinner, and by a common error of 
 drunkards, because he had been extremely talkative him- 
 self, leaped to the conclusion that he had chanced on very 
 genial company. He told me his name, his address ; he 
 begged we should meet again ; finally he proposed that I 
 should dine with him in the country at an early date. 
 
 " The dinner is official," he explained. " The office- 
 bearers and Senatus of the University of Cramond — an 
 educational institution in which I have the honour to be 
 Professor of Nonsense — meet to do honour to our friend 
 Icarus, at the old-established howff, Cramond Bridge. One 
 place is vacant, fascinating stranger, — I offer it to you ! " 
 
 *' And who is your friend Icarus ?" I asked. 
 
 " The aspiring son of Deedalus ! " said he. '' Is it pos- 
 sible that you have never heard the name of Byfield ? '' 
 
 '' Possible and true," said I. 
 
 " And is fame so small a thing ? " cried he. " Byfield, 
 sir, is an aeronaut. He apes the fame of a Lunardi, and 
 is on the point of offering to the inhabitants — I beg your 
 pardon, to the nobility and gentry of our neighbourhood 
 — the spectacle of an ascension. As one of the gentry 
 concerned, I may be permitted to remark that I am un- 
 moved. I care not a Tinker's Damn for his ascension. 
 No more — I breathe it in your ear — does anybody else. 
 The business is stale, sir, stale. Lunardi did it, and over- 
 did it. A whimsical, fiddling, vain fellow, by all accounts 
 — for I was at that time rocking in my cradle. But once
 
 270 ST. IVES 
 
 was enongli. If Lnnardi went up and came down, there 
 was the matter settled. We prefer to grant the point. 
 "We do not want to see the experiment repeated ad nau- 
 seam hy Byfield, and Brown, and Butler, and Brodie, and 
 Bottomley. Ah ! if they would go up and not come down 
 again ! I3ut this is by the question. The University of 
 Cramond delights to honour merit in the man, sir, rather 
 tlian utility in the profession ; and Byfield, though an 
 ignorant dog, is a sound, reliable drinker, and really not 
 amiss over his cups. Under the radiance of the kindly 
 jar, partiality might even credit him with wit.'' 
 
 It will be seen afterwards that this was more my busi- 
 ness than I thought it at the time. Indeed, I was im- 
 patient to be gone. Even as my friend maundered ahead, 
 a squall burst, the jaws of the rain were opened against 
 the coffee-house windows, and at that inclement signal I 
 remembered I was due elsewhere-
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT 
 
 At the door I was nearly blown back by the nnbridled 
 violence of the squall, and Rowley and I must shout our 
 parting words. All the way along Princes Street (whither 
 my way led) the wind hunted me behind and screamed in 
 my ears. The city was flushed with bucketfuls of rain that 
 tasted salt from the neighbouring ocean. It seemed to 
 darken and lighten again in the vicissitudes of the gusts. 
 Now you would say the lamps had been blown out from 
 end to end of the long thoroughfare ; now, in a lull, they 
 would revive, re-multiply, shine again on the wet pave- 
 ments, and make darkness sparingly visible. 
 
 By the time I had got to the corner of the Lothian Road 
 there was a distinct improvement. For one thing, I had 
 now my shoulder to the wind ; for a second, I came in the 
 lee of my old prison-house, the Castle ; and, at any rate, 
 the excessive fury of the blast was itself moderating. The 
 thought of what errand I was on re-awoke within me, and 
 I seemed to breast the rough weather with increasing ease. 
 With such a destination, what mattered a little buffeting 
 of wind or a sprinkle of cold water ? I recalled Flora's 
 image, I took her in fancy to my arms, and my heart 
 throbbed. And the next moment I had recognised the in- 
 anity of that fooFs paradise. If I could spy her taper as 
 she went to bed, I might count myself lucky. 
 
 I had about two leagues before me of a road mostly up- 
 
 271
 
 272 ST. IVES 
 
 hill, and now deep in mire. So soon as I was clear of the 
 last street lamp, darkness received me — a darkness only 
 pointed by the lights of occasional rnstic farms, where the 
 dogs howled with uplifted heads as I went by. The wind 
 continued to decline : it had been but a squall, not a tem- 
 pest. The rain, on the other hand, settled into a steady 
 deluge, which had soon drenched me thoroughly. I con- 
 tinued to tramp forward in the night, contending with 
 gloomy thoughts and accompanied by the dismal ululatiou 
 of the dogs. What ailed them that they should have been 
 thus wakeful, and perceived the small sound of my steps 
 amid the general reverberation of the rain, was more than 
 I could fancy. I remembered tales with which I had 
 been entertained in childhood. I told myself some mur- 
 derer was going by, and the brutes perceived upon him the 
 faint smell of blood ; and the next moment, with a physi- 
 cal shock, I had applied the words to my own case ! 
 
 Here was a dismal disposition for a lover. " Was ever 
 lady in this humour wooed ? " I asked myself, and came 
 near turning back. It is never wise to risk a critical in- 
 terview when your spirits are depressed, your clothes 
 muddy, and your hands wet ! But the boisterous night 
 was in itself favourable to my enterprise : now, or perhaps 
 never, I might find some way to have an interview with 
 Flora ; and if I had one interview (wet clothes, low spirits 
 and all), I told myself there Avould certainly be another. 
 
 Arrived in the cottage garden, I found the circumstances 
 mighty inclement. From the round holes in the shutters 
 of the parlour, shafts of candle-light streamed forth ; else- 
 where the darkness was complete. The trees, the thickets, 
 were saturated ; the lower parts of the garden turned into 
 a morass. At intervals, when the wind broke forth again, 
 there passed overhead a wild coil of clashing branches ; 
 and between whiles the whole enclosure continuously and
 
 THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT 273 
 
 stridently resounded with the rain. I advanced close to 
 the window and contrived to read the face of my watch. 
 It was half -past seven ; they wonld not retire before ten, 
 they might not before midnight, and the prospect was un- 
 pleasant. In a lull of the wind I could hear from the in- 
 side the voice of Flora reading aloud ; the words of course 
 inaudible — only a flow of undecipherable speech, quiet, cor- 
 dial, colourless, more intimate and winning, more eloquent 
 of her personality, but not less beautiful than song. And 
 the next moment the clamour of a fresh squall broke out 
 about the cottage ; the voice was drowned in its bellowing, 
 and I was glad to retreat from my dangerous post. 
 
 For three egregious hours I must now suffer the ele- 
 ments to do their worst upon me, and continue to hold my 
 ground in patience. I recalled the least fortunate of my 
 services in the field : being out-sentry of the pickets in 
 Aveather no less vile, sometimes unsuppered and with noth- 
 ing to look forward to by way of breakfast but musket- 
 balls ; and they seemed light in comparison. So strangely 
 are we built : so much more strong is the love of woman 
 than the mere love of life. 
 
 At last my patience was rewarded. The light disap- 
 peared from the parlour and reappeared a moment after in 
 the room above. I was pretty well informed for the en- 
 terprise that lay before me. I knew the lair of the dragon 
 — that which was just illuminated. I knew the bower of 
 my Eosamond, and how excellently it was placed on the 
 ground level, round the flank of the cottage and out of 
 earshot of her formidable aunt. Nothing was left but to 
 apply my knowledge. I was then at the bottom of the 
 garden, whither I had gone (Heaven save the mark !) for 
 warmth, that I might walk to and fro unheard and keep 
 myself from perishing. The night had fallen still, the 
 wind ceased ; the noise of the rain had much lightened, if 
 18
 
 274 ST. IVES 
 
 it had not stopped, and was succeeded by the dripping of 
 the garden trees. In the midst of this lull, and as I was 
 already drawing near to the cottage, I was startled by the 
 sound of a window-sash screaming in its channels ; and a 
 step or two beyond I became aware of a gush of light upon 
 the darkness. It fell from Flora's window, which she had 
 flung open on the night, and where she now sat, roseate 
 and pensive, in the shine of two candles falling from be- 
 hind, her tresses dee])ly embowering and shading her ; the 
 suspended comb still in one hand, the other idly clinging 
 to the iron stanchions with which the window was barred. 
 
 Keeping to the turf, and favoured by the darkness of 
 the night and the patter of the rain which was now return* 
 ing, though without wind, I approached until I cculd 
 almost have touched her. It seemed a grossness of whicli 
 I was incapable to break up her reverie by speech. I stood 
 and drank her in with my eyes ; how the light made a 
 glory in her hair, and (what I have always thought the 
 most ravishing thing in nature) how the planes ran into 
 each other, and were distinguished, and how the hues 
 blended and varied, and were shaded off, between the cheek 
 and neck. At first I was abashed ; she wore her beauty 
 like an immediate halo of refinement ; she discouraged me 
 like an angel, or what I suspect to be the next most dis- 
 couraging, a modern lady. But as I continued to gaze, 
 hope and life returned to me ; I forgot my timidity, I for- 
 got the sickening pack of wet clothes with which I stood 
 burdened, I tingled with new blood. 
 
 Still unconscious of my presence, still gazing before her 
 npon the illuminated image of the window, the straight 
 shadows of the bars, the glinting of pebbles on the path, 
 and the impenetrable night on the garden and the hills 
 beyond it, she heaved a deep breath that struck upon my 
 heart like an appeal.
 
 STILL GAZING BEFORE HBR.'
 
 THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT 275 
 
 ** Why does Miss Gilchrist sigh ?" 1 whispered. *' Does 
 ehe recall absent friends ? " 
 
 She turned her head swiftly in my direction ; it was the 
 on'7 sign of surprise she deigned to make. At the same 
 time I stepped forward into the light and bowed pro- 
 foundly. 
 
 "Youl" she said. *'Here?'' 
 
 ** Yes, I am here/' I replied. " I have come very far, 
 it may be a hvindred and fifty leagues, to see you. I have 
 waited all this night in your garden. Will Miss Gilchrist 
 not offer her hand — 'to a friend in trouble ? " 
 
 She extended it between the bars, and I dropped upon 
 one knee on the wet path, and kissed it twice. At the 
 second it was withdrawn suddenly, methought with more 
 of a start than she had hitherto displayed. I regained my 
 former attitude, and we were both silent awhile. My 
 timidity returned on me tenfold. I looked in her face for 
 any signals of anger, and seeing her eyes to waver and fall 
 aside from mine, augured that all was well. 
 
 " You must have been mad to come here I" she broke 
 out. " Of all places under heaven, this is no place for you 
 to come. And I was just thinking you were safe in 
 France ! " 
 
 " You were thinking of me ! " I cried. 
 
 '"Mr. St. Ives, you cannot understand your danger,** 
 she replied. *' I am sure of it, and yet I cannot find it in 
 my heart to tell you. be persuaded, and go ! ** 
 
 ** I believe I know the worst. But I was never one to 
 set an undue value on life, the life that we share with 
 beasts. My university has been in the wars, not a famous 
 place of education, but one where a man learns to carry his 
 life in his hand as lightly as a glove, and for hio lady or his 
 honour to lay it as lightly down. You appeal to my fears, 
 and you do wrong. I have come to Scotland with my eyes
 
 276 ST. IVES 
 
 quite open, to see you and to speak with you — it may "be 
 for the last time. With my eyes quite open, I say ; and if 
 I did not hesitate at the beginning, do you think that I 
 would draw back now ?" 
 
 " You do not know ! " she cried, with rising agitation. 
 *' This country, even this garden, is death to you. They 
 all believe it ; I am the only one that does not. If they 
 hear you now, if they heard a whisper — I dread to think 
 of it. 0, go, go this instant. It is my prayer.'^ 
 
 "Dear lady, do not refuse me what I have come so far to 
 seek ; and remember that out of all the millions in Eng- 
 land there is no other but yourself in whom I can dare 
 confide. I have all the world against me ; you are my only 
 ally ; and as I have to speak, you have to listen. All U 
 true that they say of me, and all of it false at the same time. 
 I did kill this man Goguelat — it was that you meant ? " 
 
 She mutely signed to me that it was ; she had become 
 deadly pale. 
 
 " But I killed him in fair fight. Till then, I had never 
 taken a life unless in battle, which is my trade. But I was 
 grateful, I was on fire with gratitude, to one who had been 
 good to me, who had been better to me than I could have 
 dreamed of an angel, who had come into the darkness of 
 my prison like sunrise. The man Goguelat insulted her. 
 0, he had insulted me often, it was his favourite pastime, 
 and he might insult me as he pleased — for who was I ? 
 But with that lady it was different. I could never forgive 
 myself if I had let it pass. And we fought, and he fell, 
 and I have no remorse.'* 
 
 I waited anxioMely for some reply. The worst was now 
 out, and I knew that she had h«Hrl of it before ; but it 
 was impossible fof me to go on I'^th «iy narrative without 
 Bome shadow of euc':T.ra<j,'3n)fnl. 
 
 " You blame me ; "
 
 THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT 277 
 
 "No, not at all. It is a point I cannot speak on — I am 
 only a girl. I am sure yon were in the right : I have 
 always said so — to Eonald. Not, of course, to my aunt. 
 I am afraid I let her speak as she will. You must not 
 think me a disloyal friend ; and even Avith the Major — I 
 did not tell you he had become quite a friend of ours — 
 Major Chevenix I mean — he has taken such a fancy to 
 Ronald ! It was he that brought the news to us of that 
 hateful Clausel being captured, and all that he was saying. 
 I was indignant with him. I said — I daresay I said too 
 much — and I must say he was very good-natured. He 
 said, ' You and I, who are his friends, hnoiv that Champ- 
 divers is innocent. But what is the use of saying it?* 
 All this was in the corner of the room, in what they call 
 an aside. And then he said, ' Give me a chance to speak 
 to you in private, I have much to tell you.' And he did. 
 And told me just what you did — that it was an affair of 
 honour, and no blame attached to you. 0, I must say I 
 like that Major Chevenix ! " 
 
 At this I was seized with a great pang of Jealousy. I 
 remembered the first time that he had seen her, the inter- 
 est that he seemed immediately to conceive ; and I could 
 not but admire the dog for the use he had been ingenious 
 enough to make of our acquaintance in order to supplant 
 me. All is fair in love and war. For all that, I was now 
 no less anxious to do the speaking myself than I had been 
 before to hear Flora. At least, I could keep clear of the 
 hateful image of Major Chevenix. Accordingly I burst at 
 once on the narrative of my adventures. It was the same 
 as you have read, but briefer, and told with a very dif- 
 ferent purpose. Now every incident had a particular 
 bearing, every by-way branched off to Rome — and that 
 was Flora. 
 
 When I had begun to speak, I h»d kneeled upon the
 
 278 ST. IVE3 
 
 gravel withontside the low window, rested my arms upon 
 the sill, and lowered my voice to the most confidential 
 whisper. Flora herself must kneel upon the other side, 
 ai: this brought our heads upon a level, with only the 
 bgTs between us. So placed, so separated, it seemed that 
 our proximity, and the continuous and low sounds of my 
 pleading voice, worked progressively and powerfully on 
 her lieart, and perhaps not less so on my own. For these 
 spells are double-edged. The silly birds may be charmed 
 with the pipe of the fowler, which is but a tube of reeds. 
 Not so with a bird of our own feather I As I went on, 
 and my resolve strengthened, and my voice found new 
 modulations, and our faces were drawn closer to the bars 
 and to each other, not only slie, but I, succumbed to the 
 fascination and were kindled by the charm. We make 
 love, and thereby ourselves fall the deeper in it. It is 
 with the heart only that one captures a heart. 
 
 " And now," I continued, " I will tell you what you can 
 still do for me. I run a little risk just now, and you see 
 for yourself how unavoidable it is for any man of honour. 
 But if — but in case of the worst, I do not choose to enrich 
 either my enemies or the Prince Regent. I have here the 
 bulk of what my uncle gave me. Eight thousand odd 
 pounds. Will you take care of it for me ? Do not think 
 of it merely as money ; take and keep it as a relic of your 
 •friend or some precious piece of him. I may have bitter 
 need of it ere long. Do you know the old country story 
 of the giant who gave his heart to his wife to keep for him, 
 thinking it safer to repose on her loyalty than his own 
 strength ? Flora, I am the giant — a very little one : will 
 you be the keeper of my life ? It is my heart I offer you 
 in this symbol. In the sight of God, if you will have it, I 
 give you my name, I endow you with my money. If the 
 worst come, if I may never hope to call you wife, let me
 
 THE COTTAGE AT KIGHT 279 
 
 at least think that you will use my uncle's legacy as my 
 widow/* 
 
 "No, not that," she said. "Never that." 
 
 " What then ? " I said. " What else, my angel ? WLat 
 are words to me ? There is bat one name that I care to 
 know you by. Flora, my love ! " 
 
 *' Anne ! " she said. 
 
 What sound is so full of music as one's own name uttered 
 for the first time in the voice of her we love ? 
 
 *' My darling ! " said I. 
 
 The jealous bar?, set at the top and bottom in stone and 
 lime, obstructed the rapture of the moment ; but I took 
 her to myself as wholly as they allowed. She did not shun 
 my lips. My arms were wound round her body, which 
 yielded itself generously to my embrace. As we so re- 
 mained, entwined and yet severed, bruising our faces un- 
 consciously on the cold bars, the irony of the universe — 
 or as I prefer to say, envy of some of the gods — again 
 stirred up the elements of that stormy night. The wind 
 blew again in the tree-tops ; a volley of cold sea-rain 
 deluged the garden, and, as the deuce would have it, a 
 gutter Avhich had been hitherto choked up, began suddenly 
 to play upon my head and shoulders with the vivacity of a 
 fountain. We parted with a shock ; I sprang to my feet, 
 and she to hers, as though we had been discovered. A 
 aaoment after, but now both standing, we had aga'*' p- 
 proached the window on either side. 
 
 " Flora," I said, " this is but a poor offer I can make you." 
 
 She took my hand in hers and clasped it to her bosom. 
 
 " Rich enough for a queen ! " she said, with a lift in her 
 breathing that was more eloquent than words. "Anne, 
 my brave Anne ! I would be glad to be your maidservant ; 
 I could envy that boy Rowley. But, no ! " she broke off, 
 **I envy no one — ^I need not — I am yours."
 
 280 ST. IVES 
 
 <( 
 
 Mine," said I, " for ever ! By this and this, mine ! " 
 
 "All of me," she repeated. ** Altogether, and foi 
 ever ! " 
 
 And if the god were envious, he must have seen with 
 mortification how little he could do to mar the happiness 
 of mortals. I stood in a mere waterspout ; she herself was 
 wet, not from my embrace only, but from the splashing of 
 the storm. The candles had gutted out ; we were in dark- 
 ness. I could scarce see anything but the shining of her 
 eyes in the dark room. To her I must have appeared as a 
 silhouette, haloed by rain and the spouting of the ancient 
 Gothic gutter above my head. 
 
 Presently we became more calm and confidential ; and 
 when that squall, which proved to be the last of the storm, 
 had blown by, fell into a talk of ways and means. It 
 seemed she knew Mr. Robbie, to whom I had been so 
 slenderly accredited by Romaiue — was even invited to his 
 house for the evening of Monday, and gave me a sketch of 
 the old gentleman's character, which implied a great deal 
 of penetration in herself and proved of great use to me in 
 the immediate sequel. It seemed he was an enthusiastic 
 antiquary, and in particular a fanatic of heraldry. I 
 heard it with delight, for I was myself, thanks to M. de 
 Culemberg, fairly grounded in that science, and acquainted 
 with the blazons of most families of note in Europe. And 
 I had made up my mind — even as she spoke it was my fixed 
 determination, though I was a hundred miles from saying 
 it — to meet Flora on Monday night as a fellow-guest in Mr. 
 Robbie's house. 
 
 I gave her my money — it was, of course, only paper I had 
 brought. I gave it her, to be her marriage portion, I 
 declared. 
 
 ** Not so bad a marriage portion for a private soldier,'' 
 I told her, laughing, as I passed it through the bars.
 
 THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT 281 
 
 " 0, Anne, and where am I to keep it ? '* she cried. 
 "If my aunt should find it ! "What would I say ! " 
 
 " Next your heart/' I suggested. 
 
 " Then you will always be near your treasure," she cried, 
 ''for you are always there \" 
 
 We were interrupted by a sudden clearness that fell 
 upon the night. The clouds dispersed ; the stars shone in 
 every part of the heavens ; and, consulting my watch, I 
 was startled to find it already hard on five in the morning.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE SABBATH DAT 
 
 It was indeed high time I should be gone from Swanston ; 
 but what I was to do in the meanwhile was another ques- 
 tion. Eowley had received his orders last night : he was 
 to say that I had met a friend, and Mrs. McRankine was 
 not to expect me before morning. A good enough tale in 
 itself ; but the dreadful pickle I was in made it out of the 
 question. I could not go home till I had found harbour- 
 age, a fire to dry my clothes at, and a bed. where I might 
 lie till they were ready. 
 
 Fortune favoured me again. I had scarce got to the 
 top of the first hill when I sj)ied a light on my left, about 
 a furlong away. It might be a case of sickness ; what else 
 it was likely to be — in so rustic a neighbourhood, and at 
 such an ungodly time of the morning — was beyond my 
 fancy. A faint sound of singing became audible, and grad- 
 ually swelled as I drew near, until at last I could make 
 out the words, which were singularly appropriate both to 
 the hour and to the condition of the singers. " The cock 
 may craw, the day may daw," they sang ; and sang it with 
 such laxity both in time and tune, and such sentimental 
 complaisance in the expression, as assured rae they had got 
 far into the third bottle at least. 
 
 I found a plain rustic cottage by the wayside, of the sort 
 called double, with a signboard over the door ; and, the 
 lights within streaming forth and somewhat mitigating the 
 
 283
 
 THE SABBATH DAT 283 
 
 darkness of the morning, I was enabled to decipher the in- 
 scription : *' The Hunters' Tryst, by Alexander Hendry. 
 Porter, Ales, and British Spirits. Beds." 
 
 My first knock put a period to the music, and a voice 
 challenged tipsily from within. 
 
 '' Who goes there ? " it said ; and I replied, " A lawful 
 traveller." 
 
 Immediately after, the door was unbarred by a company 
 of the tallest lads my eyes had ever rested on, all astonish- 
 ingly drunk and very decently dressed, and one (who was 
 perhaps the drunkest of the lot) carrying a tallow candle, 
 from which he impartially bedewed the clothes of the 
 whole company. As soon as I saw them I could not help 
 smiling to myself to remember the anxiety with which I 
 had approached. They received me and my hastily-con- 
 cocted story, that I had been walking from Peebles and 
 had lost my way, with incoherent benignity ; jostled me 
 among them into the room where they had been sitting, a 
 plain hedge-row alehouse parlour, with a roaring fire in 
 the chimney and a prodigious number of empty bottles on 
 the floor ; and informed me that I was made, by this re- 
 ception, a temporary member of the Six-Feet-High Club, an 
 athletic society of young men in a good station, who made 
 of the Hunters' Tryst a frequent resort. They told me I 
 had intruded on an " all-night sitting," following upon an 
 ^'all-day Saturday tramp" of forty miles; and that the 
 members would all be up and " as right as ninepence " for 
 the noonday service at some neighbouring church — Col- 
 lingwood, if memory serves me right. At this I could 
 have laughed, but the moment seemed ill chosen. For, 
 though six feet was their standard, they all exceeded that 
 measurement considerably ; and I tasted again some of the 
 sensations of childhood, as I looked up to all these lads 
 from a lower plane, and wondered what they would do
 
 284 ST. IVES 
 
 next. Bnt the Six-Footers, if they were very drunk, 
 proved no less kind. The landlord and servants of the 
 Hunters' Tryst were in bed and asleep long ago. Whether 
 by natural gift or acquired habit, they could suffer pande- 
 monium to reign all over the house and yet lie ranked in 
 the kitchen like Egyptian mummies, only that the sound 
 of their snoring rose and fell ceaselessly, like the drone of 
 a bagpipe. Here the Six-Footers invaded them — in their 
 citadel, so to speak ; counted the bunks and the sleepers ; 
 proposed to put me in bed to one of the lasses, proposed tc 
 have one of the lasses out to make room for me, fell over 
 chairs and made noise enough to waken the dead : the 
 whole illuminated by the same young torch-bearer, but 
 now with two candles, and rapidly beginning to look like 
 a man in a snowstorm. At last a bed was found for me, 
 my clothes were hung out to dry before the parlour fire, 
 and I was mercifully left to my repose. 
 
 I awoke about nine with the sun shining in my eyes. 
 The landlord came at my summons, brought me my clothes 
 dried and decently brushed, and gave me the good news 
 that the Six-Feet-High Club were all abed and sleeping off 
 their excesses. Where they were bestowed was a puzzle to 
 me, until (as I was strolling about the garden patch waiting 
 for breakfast) I came on a barn door, and, looking in, saw 
 all the red faces mixed in the straw like plums in a cake. 
 Quoth the stalwart maid who brought me my porridge and 
 bade me " eat them Avhile they were hot," " Ay, they were 
 a' on the ran-dan last nicht ! Hout ! they're fine lads, and 
 they'll be nane the waur of it. Forby Farbes's coat : I 
 dinna see wha's to get the creish off that ! " she added, 
 with a sigh ; in which, identifying Forbes as the torch- 
 bearer, I mentally Joined. 
 
 It was a brave morning when I took the road ; the sun 
 shone, spring seemed in the air, it smelt like April or May,
 
 THE SABBATH DAY 285 
 
 and some over-ventnrous birds sang in the coppices as I 
 went by. I had plenty to think of, plenty to be grateful 
 for, that gallant morning ; and yet I had a twitter at my 
 heart. To enter the city by daylight might be compared 
 to marching on a battery ; every face that I confronted 
 would threaten me like the muzzle of a gun ; and it came 
 into my head suddenly with how much better a coun- 
 tenance I should be able to do it if I could but improvise 
 a companion. Hard by Merchiston, I was so fortunate as 
 to observe a bulky gentleman in broadcloth and gaiters, 
 stooping with his head almost between his knees before a 
 stone wall. Seizing occasion by the forelock, I drew up 
 as I came alongside and inquired what he had found to 
 interest him. 
 
 He turned upon me a countenance not much less broad 
 than his back. 
 
 " Why, sir," he replied, " I was even marvelling at my 
 own indefeasible stupeedity : that I should walk this way 
 every week of my life, weather permitting, and should 
 never before have notticed that stone," touching it at the 
 same time with a goodly oak staff. 
 
 I followed the indication. The stone, which had been 
 built sideways into the wall, offered traces of heraldic 
 sculpture. At once there came a wild idea into my mind : 
 his appearance tallied with Flora's description of Mr. Rob- 
 bie ; a knowledge of heraldry would go far to clinch the 
 proof ; and what could be more desirable than to 
 scrape an informal acquaintance with the man whom I 
 must approach next day with my tale of the drovers, and 
 whom I yet wished to please ? I stooped in turn. 
 
 " A chevron," I said ; " on a chief three mullets ? 
 Looks like Douglas, does it not ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, it does ; you are right," said he : " it does 
 look like Douglas ; though, without tbe tinctures, and the
 
 286 ST. IVES 
 
 whole thing being so battered and broken np, who shall 
 venture an opinion ? But allow nie to be more personal, 
 sir. In these degenerate days I am astonished you should 
 disjilay so much proficiency/' 
 
 "0, I was well grounded in my youth by an old gentle- 
 man, a friend of my family, and I may say my guardian," 
 said I ; *' but I have forgotten it since. God forbid I 
 should delude you into thinking me a herald, sir ! I am 
 only an ungrammatical amateur." 
 
 ''And a little modesty does no harm even in a herald," 
 says my new acquaintance graciously. 
 
 In short, we fell together on our onward way, and main- 
 tained very amicable discourse along what remained of the 
 country road, past the suburbs, and on into the streets of 
 the New Town, which was as deserted and silent as a city of 
 the dead. The shops were closed, no vehicle ran, cats 
 sported in the midst of the sunny causeway ; and our 
 steps and voices re-echoed from the quiet houses. It was 
 the high-water, full and strange, of that weekly trance to 
 which the city of Edinburgh is subjected : the apotheosis 
 of the Saiuhath ; and I confess the spectacle wanted not 
 grandeur, however much it may have lacked cheerfulness. 
 There are few religious ceremonies more imposing. As we 
 thus walked and talked in a public seclusion, the bells 
 broke out ringing through all the bounds of the city, and 
 the streets began immediately to be thronged with decent 
 church-goers. 
 
 '' Ah ! " said my companion, ''there are the bells ! Now, 
 sir, as you are a stranger, I must offer you the hospitality 
 of my pew. I do not know whether you are at all used with 
 our Scottish form ; but in case you are not, I will find 
 your places for you ; and Dr. Henry Gray, of St. Mary's 
 (under whom I sit), is af good a preacher as we kave to^ ' 
 show you."
 
 THE SABBATH DAY 287 
 
 This put me in a quandary. It was a degree of risk I 
 was scarce prepared for. Dozens of people, who might 
 pass me by in the street with no more tlian a second look, 
 would go on from the second to the third, and from that 
 to a final recognition, if I were set before them, immobil- 
 ised in a pew, during the whole time of service. An un- 
 lucky turn of the head would suffice to arrest their 
 attention. "Who is that '^" they would think : "Surely, 
 I should know him ! " and, a church being the place in 
 all the world where one has least to think of, it was ten to 
 one they would end by remembering me before the bene- 
 diction. However, my mind was made up : I thanked my 
 obliging friend, and placed myself at his disposal. 
 
 Our way now led us into the north-east quarter of the 
 town, among pleasant new faubourgs, to a decent new 
 church of a good size, where I was soon seated by the side 
 of my good Samaritan, and looked upon by a whole con- 
 gregation of menacing faces. At first the possibility of 
 danger kept me awake ; but by the time I had assured my- 
 self there was none to be apprehended, and the service was 
 not in the least likely to be enlivened by the arrest of a 
 French spy, I had to resign myself to the task of listening 
 to Dr. Henry Gray. 
 
 As we moved out, after this ordeal was over, my friend 
 was at once surrounded and claimed by his acquaintance 
 of the congregation ; and I was rejoiced to hear him ad- 
 dressed by the expected name of Eobbie. 
 
 So soon as we were clear of the crowd — " Mr. Eobbie ?" 
 said I, bowing. 
 
 " The very same, sir," said he. 
 
 ** If I mistake not, a lawyer ? " 
 
 '* A writer to his Majesty's Signet, at your service." 
 
 ** It seems we were predestined to be acquaintances ! " I 
 exclaimed. " I have here a card in my pocket intended
 
 288 BT. IVES 
 
 for you. It is from my family lawyer. It was his last 
 word, as I was leaving, to ask to be remembered kindly, 
 and to trust you would pass over so informal an introduc- 
 tion." 
 
 And I offered him the card. 
 
 " Ay, ay, my old friend Daniel ! " says he, looking on 
 the card. " And how does my old friend Daniel ? " 
 
 I gave a favourable view of Mr. Komaine's health, 
 
 " Well, this is certainly a whimsical incident," he con- 
 tinued. ^' And since we are thus met already — and so 
 much to my advantage ! — the simplest thing will be to 
 prosecute the acquaintance instantly. Let me propose a 
 snack between sermons, a bottle of my particular green 
 seal — and when nobody is looking, we can talk blazons, 
 Mr. Dulcie ! '' — which was the name I then used and had 
 already incidentally mentioned, in the vain hope of pro- 
 voking a return in kind. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir : do I understand you to invite 
 me to your house ? " said I. 
 
 *' That was the idea I was trying to convey," said he. 
 " We have the name of hospitable people up here, and I 
 would like you to try mine." 
 
 " Mr. Kobbie, I shall hope to try it some day, but not 
 yet," I replied. " I hope you will not misunderstand me. 
 My business, which brings me to your city, is of a peculiar 
 kind. Till you shall have heard it, and, indeed, till its 
 issue is known, I should feel as if I had stolen your 
 invitation." 
 
 '' Well, well," said he, a little sobered, " it must be as 
 you wish, though you would hardly speak otherwise if you 
 had committed homicide ! Mine is the loss. I must eat 
 alone ; a very pernicious thing for a person of my habit of 
 body, content myself with a pint of skinking claret, and 
 meditate the discourse. But about this business of yours :
 
 THE SABBATH DAT 289 
 
 if it is so particular as all that, it will doubtless admit of 
 no delay." 
 
 " I mnst confess, sir, it presses," I acknowledged. 
 
 *' Then, let us say to-morrow at half-past eight in the 
 morning," said he ; " and I hope, when your mind is at 
 rest (and it does you much honour to take it as you do), 
 that you will sit down with me to the postponed meal, not 
 forgetting the bottle. You have my address ? " he added, 
 and gave it me — which was the only thing I wanted. 
 
 At last, at the level of York Place, we parted with 
 mutual civilities, and I was free to pursue my way, through 
 the mobs of people returning from church, to my lodgings 
 in St. James's Square. 
 
 Almost at the house door, whom should I overtake but 
 my landlady in a dress of gorgeous severity, and dragging 
 a prize in her Avake : no less than Kowley, with the cockade 
 in his hat, and a smart pair of tops to his boots ! When I 
 said he was in the lady's wake, I spoke but in metaphor. 
 As a matter of fact, he was squiring her, with the utmost 
 dignity, on his arm ; and I followed them up the stairs, 
 smiling to myself. 
 
 Both were quick to salute me as soon as I was perceived, 
 and Mrs. McEankine inquired where I had been. I told 
 her boastfully, giving her the name of the church and the 
 divine, and ignorantly supposing I should have gained 
 caste. But she soon opened my eyes. In the root? of the 
 Scottish character there are knots and contortions that not 
 only no stranger can understand, but no stranger can fol- 
 low ; he walks among explosives ; and his best course is to 
 throw himself upon their mercy — " Just as I am, without 
 one plea," a citation from one of the lady's favourite hymns. 
 
 The sound she made was unmistakable in meaning, 
 though it was impossible to be written down ; and I at 
 once executed the manoeuvre I have recommended. 
 19
 
 •290 ST. IVES 
 
 "Yon must remember, I am a perfect stranger in youi 
 city/' said I. " If I have done wrong, it was in mere ig- 
 norance, my dear lady ; and this afternoon, if you will be 
 so good as to take me, I shall accompany you." 
 
 Bi J she was not to be pacified at the moment, and de- 
 parted to her own quarters murmuring. 
 
 "Well, Rowley," said I; "and have you been to 
 church ? " 
 
 " If you please, sir," he said. 
 
 " AVell, you have not been any less unlucky than I have," 
 I returned. " And how did you get on with the Scottish 
 form?" 
 
 ** "Well, sir, it was pretty 'ard, the form was, and reether 
 narrow," he replied. " I don't know w'y it is, but it seems 
 to me like as if things were a good bit changed since "Will- 
 iam Wallace ! That was a main queer church she took me to, 
 Mr. Anne ! I don't know as I could have sat it out, if she 
 'adn't 'a' give me peppermints. She ain't a bad one at bot- 
 tom, the old girl ; she do pounce a bit, and she do worry, but, 
 law bless you, Mr. Anne, it ain't nothink really — she don't 
 mean it. W'y, she was down on me like a 'undredweight 
 of bricks this morning. You see, last night she 'ad me in to 
 supper, and, I beg your pardon, sir, but I took the freedom 
 of playing her a chune or two. She didn't mind a bit ; so 
 this morning I began to play to myself, and she flounced 
 in, and liew up, and carried on no end about Sunday ! " 
 
 "You see, Rowley," said I, "they're all mad up here, 
 and you have to humour them. See, and don't quarrel 
 with Mrs. McRankine ; and, above all, don't argue with her, 
 or you'll get the worst of it. "Whatever she says, touch 
 your forelock and say, ' If you j^lease ! ' or ' I beg pardon, 
 ma'am.' And let me tell j-ou one thing : I am sorry, but 
 you have to go to church with her again this afternoon. 
 That's duty, my boy ! "
 
 THE SABBATH DAY 291 
 
 As I had foreseen, the bells had scarce begun before Mrs. 
 McEankine presented herself to be our escort, upon which 
 I sprang up with readiness and offered her my arm. Row- 
 ley followed behind. I was beginning to grow accustomed 
 to the risks of my stay in Edinburgii, and it even amused 
 me to confront a new churchful. I confess the amusement 
 did not last until the end ; for if Dr. Gray were long, Mr. 
 McCraw was not only longer, but more incoherent, and 
 the matter of his sermon (which was a direct attack, appar- 
 ently, on all the Churches of the world, my own among the 
 number), where it had not the tonic quality of personal 
 insult, rather inclined me to slumber. But I braced my- 
 self for my life, kept up Rowley with the end of a pin, and 
 came through it awake, but no more. 
 
 Bethiah was quite conquered by this '' mark of grace," 
 though, I am afraid, she was also moved by more worldly 
 considerations. The first is, the lady had not the least 
 objection to go to church on the arm of an elegantly dressed 
 young gentleman, and be followed by a spruce servant with 
 a cockade in his hat. I could see it by the way she took 
 possession of us, found us the places in the Bible, whis- 
 pered to me the name of the minister, passed us lozenges, 
 which I (for my part) handed on to Rowley, and at each fresh 
 attention stole a little glance about the church to make 
 sure she was observed. Rowley was a pretty boy ; you will 
 pardon me, if I also remembered that I Avas a favourable- 
 looking young man. When we grow elderly, how the 
 room brightens, and begins to look as it ought to look, on 
 the entrance of youth, grace, health, and comeliness ! You 
 do not want them for yourself, perhaps not even for your 
 son, but you look on smiling ; and when you recall their 
 images — again, it is with a smile. I defy you to see or think 
 of them and not smile with an infinite and intimate, but 
 quite impersonal, pleasure. Well, either I know nothing
 
 292 ST. IVES 
 
 of women, or that was the case with Bethiah McRankine. 
 She had been to church with a cockade behind her, on the 
 one hand ; on the other, her house was brightened by the 
 presence of a pair of good-looking young fellows of the 
 other sex, who were always pleased and deferential in her 
 society and accepted her views as final. 
 
 These were sentiments to be encouraged ; and, on the 
 way home from church — if church it could be called — I 
 adopted a most insidious device to magnify her interest. I 
 took her into the confidence, that is, of my love affair, and 
 I had no sooner mentioned a young lady with whom my 
 affections were engaged than she turned upon me a face of 
 awful gravity. 
 
 *' Is she bonny ? " she inquired. 
 
 I gave her full assurances upon that. 
 
 " To what denoamination does she beloang ? " came next, 
 and was so unexpected as almost to deprive me of breath. 
 
 " Upon my word, ma'am, I have never inquired," cried I ; 
 *' I only know that she is a heartfelt Christian, and that is 
 enough." 
 
 *' Ay! " she sighed, " if she has the root of the maitter ! 
 There's a remnant practically in most of the denoamina- 
 tions. There's some in the McGlashanites, and some in the 
 Glassites, and mony in the McMillanites, and there's a 
 leeven even in the Estayblishment." 
 
 " I have known some very good Papists even, if you go 
 to that," said I. 
 
 *' Mr. Dulcie, think shame to yourseF !" she cried. 
 
 *' Why, my dear madam ! I only " I began. 
 
 *'You shouldnae jest in sairious maitters," she inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 On the whole, she entered into what I chose to tell her 
 of our idyll with avidity, like a cat licking her whiskers 
 over a dish of cream ; and, strange to say — and so expan*
 
 THE SABBATH DAY 293 
 
 sive a passion is that of love ! — that I derived a perhaps 
 equal satisfaction from confiding in that breast of iron. It 
 made an immediate bond : from that hour we seemed to be 
 welded into a family party ; and I had little difficulty in 
 persuading her to join us and to preside over our tea-table. 
 Surely there was never so ill-matched a trio as Kowley, 
 Mrs. McRankine, and the Viscount Anne ! But I am of 
 the Apostle's way, with a difference : all things to all wom- 
 ■en ! When I cannot please a woman, hang me in my 
 cravat!
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 EVENTS OF MONDAY : THE LAAVTER'S PARTY 
 
 By half-past eight o'clock on the next morning, I was 
 ringing the bell of the lawyer's office in Castle Street, where 
 I found him ensconced at a business table, in a room sur- 
 rounded by several tiers of green tin cases. He greeted 
 me like an old friend. 
 
 " Come away, sir, come away I" said he. *' Here is the 
 dentist ready for you, and I think I can promise you that 
 the operation will be practically painless." 
 
 *' I am not so sure of that, Mr. Robbie," I replied, as I 
 shook hands with him. " But at least there shall be no 
 time lost with me." 
 
 I had to confess to having gone a-roving with a pair of 
 drovers and their cattle, to having used a false name, to 
 having murdered or half-murdered a fellow-creature in a 
 scuffle on the moors, and to having suffered a couple of 
 quite innocent men to lie some time in prison on a charge 
 from which I could have immediately freed them. All 
 tins I gave him first of all, to be done with the worst of it ; 
 and all this he took with gravity, but without the least 
 appearance of surprise. 
 
 ''Now, sir," I continued, " I expect to have to pay for 
 my unhappy frolic, but I would like very well if it could 
 be managed without my personal appearance or even the 
 mention of my real name. I had so much wisdom as to> 
 sail under false colours in this foolish jaunt of mine : my 
 ; 294
 
 THE lawyer's party 295 
 
 family would be extremely concerned if they had wind of 
 it ; but at the same time, if the case of this Faa has ter- 
 minated fatally, and there are proceedings against Todd 
 and Candlish, I am not going to stand by and see them 
 vexed, far less punished ; and I authorise you to give me 
 up for trial if you think that best — or, if you think it un- 
 necessary, in the meanwhile to make preparations for their 
 defence. I hope, sir, that I am as little anxious to be 
 Quixotic, as I am determined to be just." 
 
 "Very fairly spoken/' said Mr. Robbie. "It is not 
 much in my line, as doubtless your friend, Mr. Eomaine, 
 will have told you. I rarely mix myself up with anything 
 on the criminal side, or approaching it. However, for a 
 young gentleman like you, I may stretch a point, and I 
 daresay I may be able to accomplish more than perhaps 
 another. I will go at once to the Procurator Fiscal's office 
 and inquire.'* 
 
 " Wait a moment, Mr. Robbie," said I. "You forget 
 the chapter of expenses. I had thought, for a beginning, 
 of placing a thousand pounds in your hands." 
 
 " My dear sir, yon will kindly wait until I render you my 
 bill," said Mr. Robbie severely. 
 
 " It seemed to me," I protested, " that, coming to you 
 almost as a stranger, and placing in your hands a piece of 
 business so contrary to your habits, some substantial guar- 
 antee of my good faith " 
 
 " Not the way that we do business in Scotland, sir," he 
 interrupted, with an air of closing the dispute. 
 
 " And yet, Mr. Robbie," I continued, " I must ask you 
 to allow me to proceed. I do not merely refer to the ex- 
 penses of the case. I have my eye besides on Todd and 
 Oandlish. They are thoroughly deserving fellows ; they 
 hav<3 been subjected through me to a considerable term of 
 imprisonment ; and I suggest, sir, that you should not
 
 iiU6 ST. IVES 
 
 spare money for their indemnification. This will explain," 
 I added, smiling, " my offer of the thousand pounds. It 
 was in the nature of a measure by which you should judge 
 the scale on which I can afford to have this business carried 
 through." 
 
 "I take you perfectly, Mr. Ducio," said he. "But the 
 sooner I am off, the better this affair is like to be guided. 
 My clerk will show you into the waiting-room and give you 
 the day's Caledonian Mercurij and the last Register to 
 amuse yourself with in the interval." 
 
 I believe Mr. Robbie was at least three hours gone. 1 
 saw him descend from a cab at the door, and almost im- 
 mediately after I was shown again into his study, where 
 the solemnity of his manner led me to augur the worst. 
 For some time he had the inhumanity to read me a 
 lecture as to the incredible silliness, ''not to say immor- 
 ality," of my behaviour. " I have the more satisfaction in 
 telling you my opinion, because it appears that you are 
 going to get off scot free," he continued, where, indeed, 
 I thought he might have begun. 
 
 "The man, Faa, has been dischairged cured ; and the 
 two men, Todd and Oandlish, would have been leeberated 
 long ago, if it had not been for their extraordinary loyalty 
 to yourself, Mr. Ducie — or Mr. St. Ivy, as I believe I 
 should now call you. Never a word would either of the 
 two old fools volunteer that in any manner pointed at the 
 existence of such a person ; and when they were confronted 
 with Faa's version of the affair, they gave accounts so 
 entirely discrepant with their own former declarations, as 
 well as with each other, that the Fiscal was quite non- 
 plussed, and imaigined there was something behind it. 
 You may believe I soon laughed him out of that ! And I 
 had the satisfaction of seeing your two friends set free, 
 and very glad to be on the causeway again."
 
 THE lawyer's party 297 
 
 '' 0, sir," I cried, " you slionld have brought them 
 here/' 
 
 " No instructions, Mr. Ducie ! " said he. " How did I 
 know you wished to renew an acquaintance which you had 
 just terminated so fortunately ? And, indeed, to be frank 
 with you, I should have set my face against it, if you had ! 
 Let them go ! They are paid and contented, and have the 
 highest possible opinion of Mr. St, Ivy ! When I gave 
 them fifty pounds apiece — which was rather more than 
 enough, Mr. Ducie, whatever you may think — the man 
 Todd, who has the only tongue of the party, struck his 
 staff on the ground. ' Weel,' says he, ' I aye said he was a 
 gentleman ! ' * Man Todd,* said I, * that was just what Mr. 
 St. Ivy said of yourself ! ' " 
 
 " So it was a case of ' Compliments fly when gentlefolk 
 meet.'" 
 
 ** No, no, Mr. Ducie, man Todd and man Candlish are 
 gone out of your life, and a good riddance ! They are fine 
 fellows in their way, but no proper associates for the like 
 of yourself ; and do you finally agree to be done with all 
 eccentricity — take up with no more drovers, or rovers, or 
 tinkers, but enjoy the naitural pleesures for which your 
 age, your wealth, your intelligence, and (if I may be allowed 
 to say it) your appearance so completely fit you. And the 
 first of these," quoth he, looking at his watch, ** will be to 
 step through to my dining-room and share a bachelor's 
 luncheon." 
 
 Over the meal, which was good, Mr. Robbie continued 
 to develop the same theme. ''You're, no doubt, what 
 they call a dancing-man ? " said he. " Well, on Thursday 
 night there is the Assembly Ball. You must certainly go 
 there, and you must permit me besides to do the honours 
 of the ceety and send you a ticket. I am a thorough 
 believer in a young man being a young man — but no more
 
 298 ST. IVES 
 
 drovers or rovers, if yon love me ! Talking of which pnts 
 me in mind tliat you may be short of partners at the 
 Assembly — 0, I have been young myself ! — and if ye care 
 to come to anything so portentiously tedious as a tea-party 
 at the house of a bachelor lawyer, consisting mainly of his 
 nieces and nephews, and his grand-nieces and grand- 
 nephews, and his wards, and generally the whole clan of 
 the descendants of his clients, you might drop in to-night 
 towards seven o'clock. I think I can show you one or two 
 that are worth looking at, and you can dauce with them 
 later on at the Assembly." 
 
 He proceeded to give me a sketch of one or two eligible 
 young ladies whom I might expect to meet. *' And then 
 there's my parteecular friend. Miss Flora," said he. " But 
 I'll make no attempt of a description. You shall see her 
 for yourself." 
 
 It will be readily supposed that I accepted his invitation ; 
 and returned home to make a toilette wortliy of her I was 
 to meet and the good news of which I was the bearer. The 
 toilette, I have reason to believe, was a success. Mr. Eow- 
 ley dismissed me with a farewell: ''Crikey! Mr. Anne, 
 but you do look prime ! " Even the stony Bethiah was — 
 how shall I say ? — dazzled, but scandalised, by my appear- 
 ance ; and while, of course, she deplored the vanity that 
 led to it, she could not wholly prevent herself from admir- 
 ing the result. 
 
 ''Ay, Mr. Ducie, this is a poor employment for a way- 
 faring Christian man ! " she said. " Wi' Christ despised 
 and rejectit in all pairts of the world, and the flag of the 
 Covenant flung doon, you will be muckle better on your 
 knees ! However, I'll have to confess that it sets you weel. 
 And if it's the lassie ye're gaun to see the nicht, I suppose 
 I'll just have to excuse ye ! Bairns maun be bairns ! " she 
 said, with a sigh. "I mind when Mr. McRankine came
 
 THE lawyer's party 299 
 
 conrtin', and that's lang by-gane — 1 mind I had a gret-n 
 gown, passementit, that was thocht to become me to admi- 
 ration. I was nae just exactly what ye would ca' bonny ; 
 but I was pale, penetratin', and interestiu'." And she 
 leaned over the stair-rail with a candle to watch my descent 
 as long as it should be possible. 
 
 It was but a little party at Mr. Robbie's — by which, I do 
 not so much mean that there were few people, for the 
 rooms were crowded, as that there was very little attempted 
 to entertain them. In one apartment there were tables set 
 out, where the elders were solemnly engaged upon whist ; 
 in the other and larger one, a great number of youth of 
 both sexes entertained themselves languidly, the ladies 
 sitting upon chairs to be courted, the gentlemen standing 
 about in various attitudes of insinuation or indifference. 
 Conversation appeared the sole resource, except in so far as 
 it was modified by a number of keepsakes and annuals 
 which lay dispersed upon the tables, and of which the 
 young beaux displayed the illustrations to the ladies. 
 Mr. Robbie himself was customarily in the card-room ; 
 only now and again, when he cut out, he made an in- 
 cursion among the young folks, and rolled about jovially 
 from one to another, the very picture of the general 
 uncle. 
 
 It chanced that Flora had met Mr. Robbie in the course 
 of the afternoon. " Kow, Miss Flora," he had said, " come 
 early, for I have a Phoenix to show you — one Mr. Ducie, a 
 new client of mine that, I vow, I have fallen in love with " ; 
 and he was so good as to add a word or two on my appear- 
 ance, from which Flora conceived a sus^iicion of the truth. 
 She had come to the party, in consequence, on the knife- 
 edge of anticipation and alarm ; had chosen a place by 
 the door, where I found her, on my arrival, surrounded by 
 a posse of vapid youths ; and, when I drew near, sprang
 
 300 ST. IVES 
 
 Tip to meet me in the most natnral manner in the world, 
 and, obviously, with a prepared form of words. 
 
 " How do yon do, Mr. Dncie ?" she said. "It is quite 
 an age since I have seen you ! " 
 
 "1 have much to tell you. Miss Gilchrist," I replied. 
 *'May I sit down V 
 
 For the artful girl, by sitting near the door, and the 
 judicious use of her shawl, had contrived to keep a chair 
 empty by her side. 
 
 She made room for me, as a matter of course, and the 
 youths had the discretion to melt before us. As soon as I 
 •was once seated her fan flew out, and she whispered behind 
 it: 
 
 "Are you mad ?" 
 
 " Madly in love," I replied ; " but in no other sense *' 
 
 *' I have no patience ! You cannot understand what I 
 am suffering ! " she said. " What are you to say to Ron- 
 ald, to Major Chevenix, to my aunt ? " 
 
 *' Your aunt ?" I cried, with a start. " Peccavi! is she 
 here ?" 
 
 *' She is in the card-room at whist," said Flora. 
 
 "Where she will probably stay all the evening?** I sug- 
 gesterl. 
 
 " She may," she admitted ; " she generally does ! " 
 
 **Well, then, I must avoid the card-room," said I, 
 " which is very much what I had counted upon doing. I 
 did not come here to play cards, but to contemplate a cer- 
 tain young lady to my heart's content — if it can ever be 
 contented ! — and to tell her some good news." 
 
 " But there are still Eonald and the Major ! " she per- 
 sisted. " They are not card-room fixtures ! Ronald will 
 be coming and going. And as for Mr. Chevenix, he " 
 
 " Always sits with Miss Flora ?" I interrupted. "And 
 they talk of poor St. Ives ? I had gathered as much, my
 
 THE lawtee's paety 301 
 
 dear ; and Mr. Dncie has come to prevent it ! But pray 
 dismiss these fears ! I mind no one but your aunt/' 
 
 " Why my aunt ? " 
 
 " Because your aunt is a lady, my dear, and a rery 
 clever lady, and, like all clever ladies, a very rash lady,^' 
 said I. " Yon can never count upon them, unless you are 
 sure of getting them in a corner, as I have got you, and 
 talking them over rationally, as I am just engaged on with 
 yourself ! It would be quite the same to your aunt to 
 make the worst kind of a scandal, with an equal indiffer- 
 ence to my danger and to the feelings of our good host ! " 
 
 " "Well," she said, ''and what of Ronald, then? Do you 
 think lie is above making a scandal ? You must know him 
 verv little ! " 
 
 " On the other hand, it is my pretension that I know 
 him very well ! " I replied. " I must speak to Ronald 
 first — not Ronald to me — that is all ! " 
 
 " Then, please, go and speak to him at once ! " she 
 pleaded. " He is there — do you see ? — at the upper end of 
 the room, talking to that girl in pink." 
 
 " And so lose this seat before I have told you my good 
 news?" I exclaimed. "Catch me! And, besides, my 
 dear one, think a little of me and my good news ! I thought 
 the bearer of good news was always welcome ! I hoped he 
 might be a little welcome for himself ! Consider ! I have 
 but one friend ; and let me stay by her ! And there is only 
 one thing I care to hear ; and let me hear it ! " 
 
 "0, Anne," she sighed, "if I did not love you, why 
 should I be so uneasy ? I am turned into a coward, dear ! 
 Think, if it were the other way round — if yon were quite 
 safe and I was in, such danger ! " 
 
 She had no sooner said it than I was convicted of being 
 a dullard. " God forgive me, dear ! " I made haste to re- 
 ply, " I never saw before that there were two sides to
 
 302 ■ ST. IVES 
 
 this ! ■'* And I told her my tale as briefly as I could, and 
 rose to seek Ronald. " You see, my dear, you are obeyed,** 
 I said. 
 
 Slie gave me a look that was a reward in itself ; and as I 
 turned away from her, with a strong sense of turning away 
 from the sun, I carried that look in my bosom like a caress. 
 The girl in pink was an arch, ogling person, with a good 
 deal of eyes and teeth, and a great play of shoulders and 
 rattle of conversation. There could be no doubt, from 
 Master Ronald's attitude, that he worshipped the very 
 chair she sat on. But I was quite ruthless. I laid my hand 
 on his shoulder, as he was stooisiug over her like a hen 
 over a chicken. 
 
 ** Excuse me for one moment, Mr. Gilchrist ! " said I. 
 
 He started and span about in answer to my touch, and 
 exhibited a face of inarticulate wonder. 
 
 " Yes ! " I continued, " it is even myself ! Pardon me 
 for interrupting so agreeable a iete-a-tUe, but you know, 
 my good fellow, Ave owe a first duty to Mr. Robbie. It 
 would never do to risk making a scene in the man's draw- 
 ing-room ; so the first thing I had to attend to was to have 
 you warned. The name I go by is Ducie, too, in case of 
 accidents. '* 
 
 ** I — I say, you know ! " cried Ronald. '' Deuce take it, 
 what are you doing here ? " 
 
 *' Hush, hush ! " said I. " Not the place, my dear fellow 
 —not the place. Come to my rooms, if you like, to-night 
 after the party, or to-morrow in the morning, and we can 
 talk it out over a cigar. But here, you know, it really 
 won't do at all." 
 
 Before he could collect his mind for an answer, I had 
 given him my address in St. James's Square, and had 
 again mingled with the crowd. Alas ! I was not fated to 
 get back to Flora so easily ! Mr. Robbie was in the path :
 
 THE lawyer's paety 303 
 
 he was insatiably loquacious ; and as he continued to pala- 
 ver I watched the insipid youths gather again about my 
 idol, and cursed my fate and my host. He remembered 
 suddenly that I was to attend the Assembly Ball on Thurs- 
 day, and had only attended to-night by way of a prepara- 
 tive. This put it into his head to present me to another 
 young lady ; but I managed this interview with so much 
 art that, while I was scrupulously polite and even cordial 
 to the fair one, I contrived to keep Eobbie beside me all 
 the time and to leave along with him when the ordeal was 
 over. We were just walking away arm in arm, when I 
 spied my friend the Major approaching, stiff as a ramrod 
 and, as usual, obtrusively clean. 
 
 *' ! there's a man I want to know," said I, taking 
 the bull by the horns. " Won't you introduce me to Ma- 
 jor Chevenix ? " 
 
 " At a word, my dear fellow," said Eobbie ; and " Ma- 
 jor ! " he cried, " come here and let me present to you 
 my friend Mr. Ducie, who desires the honour of your ac- 
 quaintance." 
 
 The Major flushed visibly, but otherwise preserved his 
 composure. He bowed very low. " I'm not very sure," 
 he said : "^ I have an idea we have met before ?" 
 
 "' Informally," I said, returning his bow; "and I have 
 long looked forward to the pleasure of regularising our ac- 
 quaintance." 
 
 "You are very good, Mr. Ducie," he returned. "Per- 
 haps you could aid my memory a little ? Where was it 
 that I had the pleasure ? " 
 
 " 0, that would be telling tales out of school," said I, 
 with a laugh, " and before my lawyer, too !" 
 
 "I'll wager," broke in Mr. Eobbie, "that, when you 
 knew my client, Chevenix, the past of our friend Mr. 
 Ducie is an obscure chapter full of horrid secrets. I'll
 
 304 ST. IVES 
 
 wager now yon knew him as St. Ivy," says he, nudging 
 tne violently. 
 
 " I think not, sir," said the Major, with pinched lips. 
 
 *' Well, I Avish he may prove all right ! " continued the 
 lawyer, with certainly tlie worst-inspired jocularity in the 
 world. " I know nothing by him ! He may be a swell 
 mobsman for me with his aliases. You must put your 
 memory on the rack. Major, and when ye've remembered 
 when and where ye met him, be sure ye tell me." 
 
 " I will not fail, sir," said Chevenix. 
 
 ^' Seek to him !" cried Robbie, waving his hand as he 
 departed. 
 
 The Major, as soon as we were alone, turned upon me 
 his impassive countenance. 
 
 ** Well," he said, " you have courage." 
 
 '*It is undoubted as your honour, sir," I returned, 
 bowing. 
 
 " Did you expect to meet me, may I ask ?" said he. 
 
 " You saw, at least, that I courted the presentation," 
 said I. 
 
 ** And you were not afraid ?" said Chevenix. 
 
 " I was perfectly at ease. I knew I was dealing with a 
 gentleman. Be that your epitaph." 
 
 " Well, there are some other people looking for you," 
 he said, "who will make no bones about the point of hon- 
 our. The police, my dear sir, are simply agog about you." 
 
 " And I think that that was coarse," said I. 
 
 "You have seen Miss Gilchrist ?" he inquired, chang- 
 ing the subject. 
 
 " With whom, I am led to understand, we are on a foot- 
 ing of rivalry ?" I asked. " Yes, I have seen her." 
 
 " And I was just seeking her," he replied. 
 
 I was conscious of a certain thrill of temper ; so, I sup- 
 pose, was he. We looked each other np and down.
 
 THE lawyer's party 305 
 
 *' The sitnation is original/' he resumed. 
 
 '' Quite/' said I. " But let me tell you frankly you are 
 blowing a cold coal. I owe you so much for your kind- 
 ness to the prisoner Champdivers.'' 
 
 " Meaning that the lady's affections are more advan- 
 tageously disposed of ?" he asked, with a sneer. " Thank 
 you, I am sure. And, since yon have given me a lead, 
 just hear a word of good advice in your turn. Is it fair, 
 is it delicate, is it like a gentleman, to compromise the 
 young lady by attentions which (as you know very well) 
 can come to nothing ? " 
 
 I was utterly unable to find words in answer. 
 
 '^Excuse me if I cut this interview short," he went on. 
 *' It seems to me doomed to come to nothing, and there is 
 more attractive metal." 
 
 ''Yes," I replied, ''as you say, it cannot amount to 
 much. You are impotent, bound hand and foot in honour. 
 You know me to be a man falsely accused, and even if yon 
 did not know it, from your position as my rival you 
 have only the choice to stand quite still or to be infamous." 
 
 "I would not say that," he returned, with another 
 change of colour. " I may hear it once too often." 
 
 With which he moved off straight for where Flora was 
 sitting amidst her court of vapid youths, and I had no 
 choice but to follow him, a bad second, and reading my- 
 self, as I went, a sharp lesson on the command of tem- 
 per. 
 
 It is a strange thing how young men in their teens go 
 down at the mere wind of the coming of men of twenty- 
 five and upwards ! The vapid ones fled without thought 
 of resistance before the Major and me ; a few dallied awhile 
 in the neighbourhood — so to speak, with their fingers in 
 their mouths — but presently these also followed the rout, 
 and we remained face to face before Flora. There was a 
 20
 
 306 ST. IVES 
 
 draught in that corner by the door ; she had thrown her 
 pelisse over her bare arms and neck, and the dark fur of 
 the trimming set them off. She slione by contrast ; the 
 light played on her smooth skin to admiration, and the 
 colour changed in her excited face. For the least fraction 
 of a second she looked from one to the other of her pair of 
 rival swains, and seemed to hesitate. Then she addressed 
 Chevenix : — 
 
 *'You are coming to the Assembly, of course. Major 
 Chevenix ?" said she. 
 
 " I fear not ; I fear I shall be otherwise engaged," he 
 replied. ''Even the pleasure of dancing with you. Miss 
 Flora, must give way to duty." 
 
 For awhile the talk ran harmlessly on the weather, and 
 then branched off towards the war. It seemed to be by 
 no one's fault ; it was in the air, and had to come. 
 
 "Good news from the scene of operations," said tlie 
 Major. 
 
 " Good news while it lasts," I said. " But will Miss 
 Gilchrist tell us her private thought upon the war ? In 
 her admiration for the victors, does not there mingle some 
 pity for the vanquished ?" 
 
 " Indeed, sir," she said, with animation, " only too much 
 of it ! War is a subject that I do not think should be 
 talked of to a girl. I am, I have to be — what do you call 
 it ? — a non-combatant ? And to remind me of what others 
 have to do and suffer : no, it is not fair ! " 
 
 *'Miss Gilchrist has the tender female heart," said Chev- 
 enix. 
 
 *' Do not be too sure of that ! " she cried. " I would 
 love to be allowed to fight myself ! " 
 
 " On which side ?" I asked. 
 
 " Can you ask ? " she exclaimed. ** I am a Scottish 
 girl 1 "
 
 THE lawyer's party 307 
 
 "She is a Scottish girl !" repeated the Major, looking 
 at me. " And no one grudges you her pity ! " 
 
 " And I glory in every grain of it she has to spare," said 
 I. " Pity is akin to love." 
 
 " Well, and let us put that question to Miss Gilchrist. 
 It is for her to decide, and for us to bow to the decision. 
 Is pity. Miss Flora, or is admiration, nearest love ? " 
 
 " 0, come," said I, "let us be more concrete. Lay be- 
 fore the lady a complete case : describe your man, then I'll 
 describe mine, and Miss Flora shall decide." 
 
 '' I think I see your meaning," said he, " and Fll try. 
 You think that pit}' — and the kindred sentiments — have 
 the gi-eatest power upon the heart. I think more nobly of 
 women. To my view, the man they love will first of all 
 command their respect ; he will be steadfast — proud, if 
 you please ; dry, possibly — but of all things steadfast. 
 They will look at him in doubt ; at last they will see that 
 stern face which he presents to all the rest of the world 
 soften to them alone. First, trust, I say. It is so that a 
 woman loves who is worthy of heroes." 
 
 " Your man is very ambitions, sir," said I, " and very 
 much of a hero ! Mine is a humbler, and, I would fain 
 think, a more human dog. He is one with no particular 
 trust in himself, with no superior steadfastness to be ad- 
 mired for, who sees a lady's face, who hears her voice, and, 
 without any phrase about the matter, falls in love. What 
 does he ask for, then, but pity ? — pity for his weakness, 
 pity for his love, which is his life. Y'ou would make women 
 always the inferiors, gaping up at your imaginary lover ; 
 he, like a marble statue, with his nose in the air ! But God 
 has been wiser than you ; and the most steadfast of your 
 heroes may prove human, after all. We appeal to the 
 queen for judgment," I added, turning and bowing before 
 Flora.
 
 308 ST. IVES 
 
 "And how shall the queen judge?" she asked. "I 
 must give you an answer that is no answer at all. * The 
 wind bloweth where it listeth ' : she goes where her heart 
 goes." 
 
 Her face flushed as she said it ; mine also, for I read in 
 it a declaration, and my heart swelled for joy. But Chev- 
 enix grew pale. 
 
 "You make of life a very dreadful kind of a lottery, 
 ma'am," said he. " But I will not despair. Honest and 
 unornamental is still my choice." 
 
 And I must say he looked extremely handsome and very 
 amusingly like the marble statue with its nose in the air to 
 which I had compared him. 
 
 " I cannot imagine how we got upon this subject," said 
 Flora. 
 
 "Madam, it was through the war," replied Chevenix. 
 
 " All roads lead to Rome," I commented. " What else 
 would you expect Mr. Chevenix and myself to talk of ? " 
 
 About this time I was conscious of a certain bustle and 
 movement in the room behind me, but did not pay to it 
 that degree of attention which perhaps would have been 
 wise. There came a certain change in Flora's face ; she 
 signalled repeatedly with her fan ; her eyes appealed to me 
 obsequiously ; there could be no doubt that she wanted 
 something — as well as I could make out, that I should go 
 away and leave the field clear for my rival, which I had not 
 the least idea of doing. At last she rose from her chair 
 with impatience. 
 
 "I think it time you were saying good-night, Mr. 
 Ducie ! " she said. 
 
 I could not in the least see why, and said so. 
 
 Whereupon she gave me this appalling answer, " My 
 aunt is coming out of the card-room." 
 
 In less time than it takes to tell, I had made my bow
 
 THE lawyer's party 309 
 
 ana my escape. Looking back from the doorway, I was 
 privileged to see, for a moment, the august profile and gold 
 eyeglasses of Miss Gilchrist issuing from the card-room ; 
 and the sight lent me wings. I stood not on the order of 
 my going ; and a moment after, I was on the pavement oi 
 Castle Street, and the lighted windows shone down on me, 
 and were crossed by ironical shadows of those who had re- 
 mained behind.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 EVENTS OF TUESDAY : THE TOILS CLOSIISTG 
 
 This clay began with a surprise. I found a letter on my 
 breakfast-table addressed to Edward Ducie. Esquire ; and 
 at first I was startled beyond measure. " Conscience doth 
 make cowards of us all ! " When I had opened it, it 
 proved to be only a note from the lawyer, enclosing a card 
 for the Assembly Ball on Thursday evening. Shortly after, 
 as I was composing my mind with a cigar at one of the 
 windows of the sitting-room, and Rowley, having finished 
 the light share of work that fell to him, sat not far off 
 tootling with great spirit and a marked preference for the 
 upper octave, Ronald was suddenly shown in. I got him 
 a cigar, drew in a chair to the side of the fire, and installed 
 him there — I was going to say, at his ease, but no expres- 
 sion could be farther from the truth. He was plainly on 
 pins and needles, did not know whether to take or to re- 
 fuse the cigar, and, after he had taken it, did not know 
 whether to light or to return '-t. I saw he had something 
 to say ; I did not think it was his own something ; and I 
 was ready to offer a large bet it was really something of 
 Major Chevenix's. 
 
 " "Well, and so here you are ! " I observed, with pointless 
 cordiality, for I was bound I should do nothing to help 
 him out. If he were, indeed, here running errands for my 
 rival, he might have a fair field, but certainly no favour. 
 
 ** The fact is," he began, " I would rather see you alone." 
 
 310
 
 THE TOILS CLOSING 311 
 
 *'Why, certainly," I replied. ''Eowley, you can step 
 into the bedroom. My dear fellow," I continued, "this 
 sounds serious. Nothing wrong, I trust." 
 
 " Well, I'll be quite honest," said he. " I am a good 
 deal bothered. 
 
 " And I bet I know why !" I exclaimed. ^' And I bet I 
 can put you to rights, too ! " 
 
 " "What do you mean ? " he asked. 
 
 "You must be hard up," said I, "and all I can say is, 
 you've come to the right place. If you have the least 
 use for a hundred pounds, or any such trifling sum as that, 
 please mention it. It's here, quite at your service." 
 
 "I am sure it is most kind of you," said Eonald, " and 
 the truth is, though I can't think how you guessed it, that 
 I really am a little behind board. But I haven't come to 
 talk about that." 
 
 " ]S[o, I daresay ! " cried I. " Not worth talking about ! 
 But remember, Eonald, you and I are on different sides of 
 the business. Eemember that you did me one of those 
 services that make men friends for ever. And since I have 
 had the fortune to come into a fair share of money, just 
 oblige me, and consider so much of it as your own." 
 
 " No," he said, " I couldn't take it ; I couldn't, really. 
 Besides, the fact is, I've come on a very different matter. 
 It's about my sister, St. Ives," and he shook his head men- 
 acingly at me. 
 
 ' You're quite sure ? " I persisted. " It's here, at your 
 service— up to five hundred pounds, if you like. Well, all 
 right ; only remember where it is, when you do want it." 
 
 " 0, please let me alone ! " cried Eonald : " I've come 
 to say something unpleasant ; and how on earth can I do 
 it, if you don't give a fellow a chance ? It's about my sis- 
 ter, as I said. You can see for yourself that it can't be 
 allowed to go on. , It's compromising ; it don't lead to
 
 312 ST. IVES 
 
 anything ; und you're not the kind of man (you must feel 
 it yourself) that I can allow my female relatives to have 
 anything to do with. I hate saying this, St. Ives ; it looks 
 like hitting a man when he's down, you know ; I told the 
 Major I very much disliked it from the first. However, it 
 had to be said ; and now it has been, and, between gentle- 
 men, it shouldn't be necessary to refer to it again." 
 
 *' It's comj)romising ; it doesn't lead to anything; not 
 the kind of man," I repeated thoughtfully. " Yes, I be- 
 lieve I understand, and shall make haste to put myself e7i 
 regie." I stood up, and laid my cigar down. *'Mr. Gil- 
 christ," said I, with a bow, " in answer to your very natu- 
 ral observations, I beg to offer myself as a suitor for your 
 sister's hand. I am a man of title, of Avhich we think 
 lightly in France, but of ancient lineage, which is every- 
 where prized. I can display thirty-two quarterings with- 
 out a blot. My expectations are certainly above the aver- 
 age : I believe my uncle's income averages about thirty 
 thousand pounds, though I admit I was not careful to in- 
 form myself. Put it anywhere between fifteen and fifty 
 thousand ; it is certainly not less." 
 
 " All this is very easy to say," said Ronald, with a pity- 
 ing smile. " Unfortunately, these things are in the air." 
 
 *' Pardon me, — in Buckinghamshire," said I, smiling. 
 
 " Well, what I mean is, my dear St. Ives, that you can't 
 prove them," he continued. " They might just as well 
 not be : do you follow me ? You can't bring us any third 
 party to back you up." 
 
 " 0, come ! " cried I, springing up and hurrying to the 
 table. " You must excuse me ! " I wrote Romaine's ad- 
 dress. " There is my reference, Mr. Gilchrist. Until you 
 have written to him, and received his negative answer, I 
 have a right to be treated, and I shall see that you treat 
 me, as a gentleman."
 
 THE TOILS CLOSING 313 
 
 He was bronglit np with a round turn at that. 
 
 ''I beg your pardon, St. Ives," said he. " Believe me, 
 I had no wish to be oSensive. But there's the difficulty 
 of this affair ; I can't make any of my points without 
 offence ! You must excuse me, it's not my fault. But, at 
 any rate, you must see for yourself this proposal of mar- 
 riage is — is merely impossible, my dear fellow. It's non- 
 sense ! Our countries are at war ; you are a prisoner." 
 
 "My ancestor of the time of the Ligue," I replied, 
 ** married a Huguenot lady out of the Saintonge, riding 
 two hundred miles through an enemy's country to bring 
 off his bride ; and it was a happy marriage." 
 
 " Well ! " he began ; and then looked down into the fire, 
 and became silent. 
 
 "Well?" I asked. 
 
 " Well, there's this business of — Gognelat," said he, still 
 looking at the coals in the grate. 
 
 " What ! " I exclaimed, starting in my chair. " What's 
 that you say ? " 
 
 " This business about Goguelat," he repeated. 
 
 " Ronald," said I, " this is not your doing. These are 
 not your own words. I know where they came from : a 
 coward put them in your mouth." 
 
 " St. Ives !" he cried, "why do you make it so hard for 
 me ? and where's the use of insulting other people ? The 
 plain English is, that I can't hear of any proposal of mar- 
 riage from a man under a charge like that. You must see it 
 for yourself, man ! It's the most absurd thing I ever heard 
 of ! And you go on forcing me to argue with you, too ! " 
 
 " Because I have had an affair of honour which termi-- 
 nated unhappily, you — a young soldier, or next-door to it — 
 refuse my offer ? Do I understand you aright ? " said I. 
 
 "My dear fellow ! " he wailed, " of course you can twist 
 my words, if you like. You say it was an affair of honour..
 
 314 ST. IVES 
 
 Well, I can't, of course, tell yon that — I can*t I mean, 
 
 you must see that that's just the point ! Was it ? I don'* 
 know/* 
 
 " I have the honour to inform you,*' said I. 
 
 " AYell, other people say the reverse, you see ! ** 
 
 " They lie, Eonald, and I will prove it in time.** 
 
 " The short and the long of it is, that any man who is so 
 unfortunate as to have such things said about him is not 
 the man to be my brother-in-law ! ** he cried. 
 
 " Do you know who will be my first witness at the 
 court ? Arthur Chevenix ! " said I. 
 
 *' I don't care !" he cried, rising from his chair and be- 
 ginning to pace outrageously about the room. '' What do 
 you mean, St. Ives ? What is this about ? It's like a 
 dream, I declare ! You made an offer, and I have refused 
 it. I don't like it, I don't want it ; and whatever I did, 
 or didn't, wouldn't matter — my aunt wouldn't hear of it 
 anyway ! Can't yon take your answer, man ? " 
 
 " You must remember, Eonald, that we are playing 
 with edged tools," said I. " An offer of marriage is a deli- 
 cate subject to handle. You have refused, and you have 
 justified your refusal by several statements. First, that I 
 was an impostor ; second, that our countries were at war ; 
 and third No, I will speak," said I ; " you can an- 
 swer when I have done, — and third, that I had dishonoura- 
 bly killed — or was said to have done so — the man Gogue- 
 lat. Now, my dear fellow, these are very awkward grounds 
 to be taking. From any one else's lips I need scarce tell 
 you how I should resent them ; but my hands are tied. I 
 have so much gratitude to you, without talking of the 
 love I bear your sister, that you insult me, when you do so, 
 under the cover of a complete impunity. I must feel the 
 pain — and I do feel it acutely — I can do nothing to protect 
 myself."
 
 THE TOILS CLOSING 315 
 
 He had been anxious enongli to interrupt me in the be- 
 ginning ; but now, and after I had ceased, he stood a long 
 while silent. 
 
 "St. Ives," he said at last, "I think I had better go 
 away. This has been very irritating. I never at all meant 
 to say anything of the kind, and I apologise to you. I have 
 all the esteem for you that one gentleman should have for 
 another. I only meant to tell you — to show you what had 
 injEluenced my mind ; and that, in short, the thing was im- 
 possible. One thing you may be quite sure of : / shall do 
 nothing against you. Will you shake hands before I go 
 away ? " he blurted out. 
 
 *' Yes," said I, " I agree with you — the interview has been 
 irritating. Let bygones be bygones. Good-bye, Ronald.'^ 
 
 "Good-bye, St. Ives 1" he returned. " Fm heartily 
 sorry." 
 
 And with that he was gone. 
 
 The windows of my own sitting-room looked towards the 
 north ; but the entrance passage drew its light from the 
 direction of the square. Hence I was able to observe Ron- 
 ald's departure, his very disheartened gait, and the fact 
 that he was joined, about half-way, by no less a man than 
 Major Chevenix. At this, I could scarce keep from smil- 
 ing ; so unpalatable an interview must be before the pair 
 of them, and I could hear their voices, clashing like crossed 
 swords, in that eternal antiphony of " I told you," and " I 
 told you not." Without doubt, they had gained very little 
 by their visit ; but then I had gained less than nothing, 
 and had been bitterly dispirited into the bargain. Ronald 
 had stuck to his guns and refused me to the last. It was 
 no news ; but, on the other hand, it could not be contorted 
 into good news. I was now certain that during my tempo- 
 rary absence in France, all irons would be put into the fire, 
 and the world turned upside down, to make Flora disown
 
 316 ST. IVES 
 
 the obtrusive Frenchman and accept Chevenix. "Without 
 doubt she would resist these instances ; but the thought of 
 them did not please me, and I felt she should be warned 
 and prepared for the battle. 
 
 It was no use to try to see her now, but I promised 
 mj'self early that evening to return to Swanston. In the 
 meantime I had to make all my preparations, and look the 
 coming journey in the face. Here in Edinburgh I was 
 within four miles of the sea, yet the business of approach- 
 ing random fishermen with my hat in the one hand and a 
 knife in the other, appeared so desperate, that I saw noth- 
 ing for it but to retrace my steps over the northern coun- 
 ties, and knock a second time at the doors of Birchell 
 Fenn. To do this, money would be necessary ; and after 
 leaving my pajoer in the hands of Flora I had still a bal- 
 ance of about fifteen hundred pounds. Or rather I may 
 say I had them and I had them not ; for after my lunch- 
 eon with Mr. Eobbie I had placed the amount, all but 
 thirty pounds of change, in a bank in George Street, on a 
 deposit receipt in the name of Mr. Rowley. This I had 
 designed to be my gift to him, in case I must suddenly 
 depart. But now, thinking better of the arrangement, I 
 despatched my little man, cockade and all, to lifi the fif- 
 teen hundred. 
 
 He was not long gone, and returned with a flushed face 
 and the deposit receipt still in his hand. 
 
 *' No go, Mr. Hann," says he. 
 
 ** How's that ? " I inquired. 
 
 " Well, sir, I found the place all right, and no mis- 
 take," said he. *' But I tell you wot gave me a blue 
 fright ! There was a customer standing by the door, and 
 I reckonised him ! Who do you think it was, Mr. Anne ? 
 W'y, that same Red-Breast — him I had breakfast with near 
 Aylesbury.**
 
 THE TOILS CLOSING 317 
 
 " Yon are snre von are not mistaken ?" I asked. 
 
 " Certain sure," he replied. " Xot Mr. Lavender, I 
 don't mean, sir ; I mean tlie otlier party. * Wot's he doin' 
 here ? ' says I. * It don't look right/ " 
 
 **Xot by any means," I agreed. 
 
 I walked to and fro in the apartment reflecting. This 
 particular Bow Street runner might be here by accident ; 
 but it was to imagine a singular play of coincidence that 
 he, who had met Eowley and spoken with him in the 
 *' Green Dragon," hard by Aylesbury, should be now in 
 Scotland, where he could have no legitimate business, 
 and by the doors of the bank where Eowley kept his ac- 
 count. 
 
 " Eowley," said I, " he didn't see you, did he ? " 
 
 " Xever a fear," quoth Eowley. *' Wy, Mr. Anne, sir, 
 if he 'ad you wouldn't have seen 7ne any more ! I ain't a 
 hass, sir I " 
 
 *•' Well, my boy, you can put that receipt in your pock- 
 et. Youll have no more use for it till you're quite clear 
 of me. Don't lose it, though ; it's your share of the 
 Christmas-box : fifteen hundred pounds all for your- 
 self." 
 
 " Begging your pardon, Mr. Anne, sir, but wot for ?" 
 said Eowley. 
 
 " To set up a public-house upon," said I. 
 
 *' If you'll excuse me, sir, I ain't got any call to set up 
 a public-housCj sir," he replied stoutly. " And I tell you 
 "Wot, sir, it seems to me I'm reether young for the billet. 
 I'm your body servant, Mr. Anne, or else I'm nothink." 
 
 " Well, Eowley," I said, " I'll tell you what it's for. 
 It's for the good service you have done me, of which I 
 don't care — and don't dare — to speak. It's for your loyalty 
 and cheerfulness, my dear boy. I had meant it for you ; 
 but to tell you the truth, it's past mending now — it has
 
 318 ST. IVES 
 
 to be yours. Since that man is waiting by the bank, the 
 money can't be touched until I'm gone." 
 
 " Until you're gone, sir ? " re-echoed Eowley. *' You 
 don't go anywheres without me, I can tell you that, Mr. 
 Anne, sir ! " 
 
 " Yes, my boy," said I, " we are going to jiart very 
 soon now ; probably to-morrow. And it's for my sake, 
 Rowley ! Depend upon it, if there was any reason at all 
 for that Bow Street man being at the bank, he was not 
 there to look out for you. How they could have found 
 out about the account so early is more than I can fathom ; 
 some strange coincidence must have played me false I But 
 there the fact is ; and, Rowley, I'll not only have to say 
 farewell to you presently, I'll have to ask you to stay in- 
 doors until I can say it. Remember, my boy, it's only so 
 that you can serve me now." 
 
 '' W'y, sir, you say the word, and of course I'll do it ! " 
 he cried. " ' K'othink by 'alves,' is my motto ! I'm your 
 man, through thick and thin, live or die, I am ! " 
 
 In the meantime there was nothing to be done till towards 
 sunset. My only chance now was to come again as quickly 
 as possible to speech of Flora, who was my only practicable 
 banker; and not before evening was it worth while to 
 think of that. I might compose myself as well as I was able 
 over the Caledonian Mercurij, with its ill news of the cam- 
 )aig^. of France and belated documents about the retreat 
 from Russia ; and, as I sat there by the fire, I was some- 
 times all awake with anger and mortification at .That 
 I was reading, and sometimes again I would be three 
 parts asleep as I dozed over the barren items of home 
 intelligence. '' Lately arrived "—this is what I suddenly 
 stumbled on— " at Dumbreck's Hotel, the Viscount of 
 Saint- Yves." 
 
 " Rowley," said I.
 
 THE TOILS CLOSING 319 
 
 ''If you please, Mr. Anne, sir," answered the obsequi- 
 ous, lowering his pij)e. 
 
 " Come and look at this, my boy," said I, holding out 
 the paper. 
 
 " My crikey ! " said he, " That's 'im, sir, sure enough ! " 
 
 " Sure enough, Rowley," said I. " He's on the trail. 
 He has fairly caught up with us. He and this Bow Street 
 man have come together, I would swear. And now here 
 is the whole field, quarry, hounds and hunters, all to- 
 gether in this city of Edinburgh." 
 
 "And wot are you goin' to do now, sir ? Tell you wot, 
 let me take it in 'and, please ! Gimme a minute, and I'll 
 disguise myself, and go out to this Dum — to this hotel, 
 leastways, sir — and see wot he's up to. You put your 
 trust in me, Mr. Anne : I'm fly, don't you make no 
 mistake about it. I'm all a-growing and a-blowing, I 
 am." 
 
 ''Not one foot of you," said I. " You are a prisoner, 
 Rowley, and make up your mind to that. So am I, or next 
 door to it. I showed it you for a caution ; if you go on 
 the streets, it spells death to me, Rowley." 
 
 " If you please, sir," says Rowley. 
 
 " Come to think of it," I continued, "you must take a 
 cold, or something. No good of awakening Mrs. McRan- 
 kine's suspicions." 
 
 "A cold ?" he cried, recovering immediately from his 
 depression. "I can do it, Mr. Anne." 
 
 And he proceeded to sneeze and cough and blow his 
 nose, till I could not restrain myself from smiling. 
 
 " 0, I tell you, I know a lot of them dodges," he ob- 
 served proudly. 
 
 " "Well, they come in very handy," said I. 
 
 " I'd better go at once and show it to the old gal, 'adn't 
 I ? " he asked.
 
 320 ST. lYES 
 
 I told him, by all means ; and he was gone upon the in- 
 stant, gleeful as though to a game of football. 
 
 I took up the paper and read carelessly on, my thoughts 
 engaged with my immediate danger, till I struck on the 
 nest paragraph : — 
 
 ** In connection with the recent horrid murder in the 
 Castle, we are desired to make public the following intelli- 
 gence. The soldier, Champdivers, is supposed to be in 
 the neighbourhood of this city. He is about the middle 
 height or rather under, of a pleasing appearance and highly 
 genteel address. When last heard of he wore a fashion- 
 able suit of pearl-grey, and boots with fawn-coloured tops. 
 He is accompanied by a servant about sixteen years of age, 
 speaks English without any accent, and passed under the 
 alias of Ramornie. A reward is offered for his appre- 
 hension." 
 
 In a moment I was in the nest room, stripping from me 
 the pearl-coloured suit ! 
 
 I confess I was now a good deal agitated. It is difficult 
 to watch the toils closing slowly and surely about you, and 
 to retain your composure ; and I was glad that Rowley 
 ■was not present to spy on my confusion. I was flushed, 
 my breath came thick ; I cannot remember a time when I 
 was more put out. 
 
 And yet I must wait and do nothing, and partaKC of my 
 meals, and entertain the ever-garrulous Rowley, as though 
 I were entirely my own man. And if I did not require to 
 entertain Mrs. McRankine also, that was but another drop 
 of bitterness in my cup ! For what ailed my landlady, 
 that she should hold herself so severely aloof, that she 
 should refuse conversation, that her eyes should be red- 
 dened, that I should so continually hear the voice of her 
 private supplications sounding through the house ? I was 
 much deceived, or she had read the insidious paragraph
 
 THE TOILS CLOSING o21 
 
 and recognised the comminated pearl-grey suit. I re- 
 membered now a certain air with wliich she had laid the 
 paper on my table, and a certain sniff, between symj)athy 
 ani defiance, with which she had announced it : " There's 
 jonr Mercury for ye ! " 
 
 In this direction, at least, I saw no pressing danger ; 
 her tragic countenance betokened agitation ; it was plain 
 she was wrestling with her conscience, and the battle still 
 hung dubious. The question of what to do troubled me 
 extremely. I could not venture to touch such an intricate 
 and mysterious piece of machinery as my landlady's spirit- 
 ual nature ; it might go off at a word, and in any direction, 
 like a badly-made firework. And while I praised myself 
 extremely for my wisdom in the past, that I had made so 
 much a friend of her, I was all abroad as to my conduct in 
 the present There seemed an equal danger in pressing 
 and in neglecting the accustomed marks of familiarity. 
 The one extreme looked like impudence, and might an- 
 noy ; the other was a practical confession of guilt. Alto- 
 gether, it was a good hour for me when the dusk began to 
 fall in earnest on the streets of Edinburgh, and the voice 
 of an early watchman bade me set forth. 
 
 I reached the neighbourhood of the cottage before seven ; 
 and as I breasted the steep ascent which leads to the gar- 
 den wall, I was struck with surprise to hear a dog. Dogs 
 I had heard before, but only from the hamlet on the hill- 
 side above. Now, this dog was in the garden itself, where 
 it roared aloud in paroxysms of fury, and I could hear it 
 leaping and straining on the chain. I waited some while, 
 until the brute's fit of passion had roared itself out. Then, 
 with the utmost precaution, I drew near again, and finally 
 approached the garden wall. So soon as I had clapped my 
 head above the level, however, the barking broke forth 
 again with redoubled energy. Almost at the same time, 
 21
 
 322 ST. IVES 
 
 the door of the cottage oi:)ened, and Eonald and the Major 
 appeared upon the threshold with a lantern. As they so 
 stood, they were almost immediately below me, strongly 
 illuminated, and within easy earshot. The Major paci- 
 fied the dog, who took instead to low, uneasy growling in- 
 teriiiingled with occasional yelps. 
 
 " Good thing I brought Towzer ! " said Chevenix. 
 
 *'Daran him, I wonder where he is V said Ronald ; and 
 he moved the lantern up and down, and turned the night 
 into a shifting puzzle-work of gleam and shadow. "I 
 think I'll make a sally." 
 
 "I don't think you will," replied Chevenix. *^ When I 
 agreed to come out here and do sentry-go, it was on one 
 condition. Master Ronald : don't you forget that ! Mili- 
 tary discipline, my boy ! Our beat is this path close about 
 the house. Down, Towzer ! good boy, good boy — gently, 
 then ! " he went on, caressing his confounded monster. 
 
 *' To think ! The beggar may be hearing us this min- 
 ute ! " cried Ronald. 
 
 "Nothing more probable," said the Major. "You 
 there, St. Ives ?" he added, in a distinct but guarded 
 voice. "I only want to tell you, you had better go home. 
 Mr. Gilchrist and I take watch and watch." 
 
 The game was up. " Beauconp cle ^Jlnisir ! " I replied, 
 in the same tones. "II fait nn peu froid imur veiller ; 
 gardcz-voiis des engelures ! " 
 
 I suppose it was done in a moment of ungovernable 
 rage ; but in spite of the excellent advice he had given to 
 Ronald the moment before, Chevenix sliiDped the chain, 
 and the dog sprang, straight as an arrow, up the bank. I 
 stepped back, picked up a stone of about twelve pounds 
 weight, and stood ready. With a bound the beast landed 
 on the cope-stone of the wall ; and, almost in the same in- 
 stant, my missile caught him fair in tlie face. He gave a
 
 THE TOILS CLOSING 323 
 
 stifled cry, went tumbling back where be bad come from, 
 and I could hear the twelve-pounder accompany him in bis 
 fall. Chevenix, at the same moment, broke out in a roar- 
 ing voice : " The hell-bound ! If he's killed my dog ! "' 
 and I judged, upon all grounds, it was as well to be off.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 EVENTS OF WEDNESDAY ; THE UNIVEKSITY OF CRAMOND 
 
 I AWOKE to mncli diffidence, even to a feeling that 
 might be called the beginnings of panic, and lay for hoars 
 in my bed considering the situation. Seek Avhere I pleased, 
 there was nothing to encourage me and plenty to appal. 
 They kept a close watch about the cottage ; they had a 
 beast of a watch-dog — at least, unless I had settled it ; and 
 if I had, I knew its bereaved master would only watch the 
 more indefatigably for the loss. In the pardonable osten- 
 tation of love I had given all the money I could spare to 
 Flora ; I had thought it glorious that the hunted exile 
 should come down, like Jupiter, in a shower of gold, and 
 pour thousands in the lap of the beloved. Then I had iu 
 an hour of arrant folly buried what remained to me in a 
 bank in George Street. And now I must get back the one 
 or the other ; and which ? and how ? 
 
 As I tossed in my bed, I could see three possible courses, 
 all extremely perilous. First, Rowley might have been 
 mistaken ; the bank might not be watched ; it might still 
 be possible for him to draw the money on the deposit re- 
 ceipt. Second, I might apply again to Robbie. Or, third, 
 I might dare everything, go to the Assembly Ball, and 
 speak with Flora under the eyes of all Edinburgh. This 
 last alternative, involving as it did the most horrid risks, 
 and the delay of forty-eight hours, I did but glance at with 
 an averted head, and turned again to the consideration of 
 
 324
 
 THE UNIVEKSITY OF CPwAMOND 325 
 
 the others. It was the likeliest thing in the world that 
 Eobbie had been warned to have no more to do with me. 
 The whole policy of the Gilchrists was in the hands of 
 Chevenix ; and I thought this was a precaution so elemen- 
 tary that he was certain to have taken it. If he had not, of 
 course I was all right : Robbie would manage to communi- 
 cate with Flora; and by four o'clock I might be on the 
 south road and, I was going to say, a free man. Lastly, I 
 must assure myself with my own eyes whether the bank in 
 George Street were beleaguered. 
 
 I called to Eowley and questioned him tightly as to the 
 aj)i)earance of the Bow Street officer. 
 
 " What sort of looking man is he, Rowley ? " I asked, 
 as I began to dress. 
 
 '*^ Wot sort of a looking man he is ?" repeated Rowley. 
 ** Well, I don't very well know wot you would say, Mr. 
 Anne. He ain't a beauty, any'ow." 
 
 "Is he tall?" 
 
 " Tall ? Well, no, I shouldn't say tall, Mr. Anne." 
 
 " Well, then, is he short ? " 
 
 " Short ? No, I don't think I would say he was what 
 you would call sliort. No, not piticular short, sir." 
 
 "Then, I suppose, he must be about the middle 
 height?" 
 
 " Well, yon might say it, sir ; but not remarkable so." 
 
 I smothered an oath. 
 
 " Is he clean-shaved ?" I tried him again. 
 
 " Clean-shaved ? " he repeated, with the same air or 
 anxious candour. 
 
 "Good heaven, man, don't repeat my words like a par- 
 rot ! " I cried. " Tell me what the man was like : it is of 
 the first importance that I should be able to recognise 
 him." 
 
 " I'm trying to, Mr. Anne. But clean shaved? I don't
 
 826 ST. IVES 
 
 seem to rightly get hold of that p'int. Sometimes it might 
 appear to me like as if he was ; and sometimes like as if 
 he wasn't. No, it wouldn't surprise me now if you was to 
 tell me he *ad a bit o' whisker." 
 
 "Was the man red-faced ?" I roared, dwelling on each 
 syllable. 
 
 "I don't think you need go for to get cross aboUu it, 
 Mr. Anne!" said he. ''I'm tellin' you every blessed 
 thing I see ! Red-faced ? "Well, no, not as you would re- 
 mark upon." 
 
 A dreadful calm fell upon me. 
 
 '' Was he anywise pale ? " I asked. 
 
 " Well, it don't seem to me as though he were. But I 
 tell you truly, I didn't take much heed to that." 
 
 " Did he look like a drinking man ? " 
 
 " Well, no. If you please, sir, he looked more like an 
 eating one." 
 
 " 0, he was stout, was he ? " 
 
 " No, sir. I couldn't go so far as that. No, he wasn't 
 not to say stout. If anything, lean rather." 
 
 I need not go on with the infuriating interview. It 
 ended as it began, except that Rowley was in tears, and 
 that I had acquired one fact. The man was drawn for me 
 as being of any height you like to mention, and of any de- 
 gree of corpulence or leanness ; clean shaved or not, as the 
 case might be ; the colour of his hair Rowley " could not 
 take it upon himself to put a name on " ; that of his eyes 
 he thought to have been blue — nay, it was the one point 
 on which he attained to a kind of tearful certainty. " I'll 
 take my davy on it," he asseverated. They proved to have 
 been as black as sloes, very little and very near together. 
 So much for the evidence of the artless ! And the fact, or 
 rather the facts, acquired ? Well, they had to do not with 
 the person but with his clothing. The man wore knee-
 
 THE UKIVEESITY OF CEAMOND 327 
 
 breeches and white stockings ;. his coat was " some kind of 
 a lightish colour — or betwixt that and dark " ; and he 
 wore a "moleskin weskit." As if this were not enough, 
 he presently haled me from my breakfast in a prodigious 
 flutter, and showed me an honest and rather venerable 
 citizen passing in the square. 
 
 " That's hvn, sir," he cried, " the very moral of him ! 
 Well, this one is better dressed, and p'r'aps a trifle taller ; 
 and in the face he don't favour him noways at all, sir. No, 
 not when I come to look again, 'e don't seem to favour 
 him noways." 
 
 ** Jackass !" said I, and I think the greatest stickler for 
 manners will admit the epithet to have been justifled. 
 
 Meanwhile the appearance of my landlady added a great 
 load of anxiety to what I already suffered. It was plain 
 that she had not slept ; equally plain that she had wept 
 copiously. She sighed, she groaned, she drew in her 
 breath, she shook her head, as she waited on table. In 
 short, she seemed in so precarious a state, like a petard 
 three times charged with hysteria, that I did not dare to 
 address her ; and stole out of the house on tiptoe, and 
 actually ran downstairs, in the fear that she might call me 
 back. It was plain that this degree of tension could not 
 last long. 
 
 It was my first care to go to George Street, which I 
 reached (by good luck) as a boy was taking down the bank 
 shutters.- A man was conversing with him ; he had white 
 stockings and a moleskin Avaistcoat, and was as ill-looking 
 a rogue as you would want to see in a day's journey. This 
 seemed to agree fairly well with Rowley's signaUment : he 
 had declared emphatically (if you remember), and had 
 stuck to it besides, that the companion of the great Laven- 
 der was no beauty. 
 
 Thence I made my way to Mr. Robbie's, where I rang
 
 828 ST. IVES 
 
 the bell. A servant answered the summons, and told me 
 the lawyer was engaged, as I had half expected. 
 
 *' Wha shall I say was callin' ?" she pursued ; and when 
 I had told her " Mr. Ducie," " I think this'll be for you, 
 then ? " she added, and handed me a letter from the hall 
 table. It ran : 
 
 " Dear Mr. Dccie, 
 " My single advice to you is to leave quam primum for the South. 
 
 "Yours, T. Robbie." 
 
 That was short and sweet. It emphatically extinguished 
 hope in one direction. No more was to be gotten of 
 Eobbie ; and I wondered, from my heart, how much had 
 been told him. Not too much, I hoped, for I liked the 
 lawyer who had thus deserted me, and I placed a certain 
 reliance in the discretion of Chevenix. He would not be 
 merciful ; on the other hand, I did not think he would be 
 cruel without cause. 
 
 It was my next affair to go back along George Street, 
 and assure myself whether the man in the moleskin vest 
 was still on guard. There was no sign of him on the 
 pavert^jnt. Spying the door of a common stair nearly op- 
 posite the bank, I took it in my head that this would be 
 a good point of observation, crossed the street, entered with 
 a businesslike air, and fell immediately against the man in 
 the moleskin vest. I stopped and apologised to him ; he 
 replied in an unmistakable English accent, thus putting 
 the matter almost beyond doubt. After this encounter I 
 must, of course, ascend to the top story, ring the bell of a 
 •iuite of apartments, inquire for Mr. Vavasour, learn (with 
 no great surprise) that he did not live there, come down 
 again and, again politely saluting the man from Bow 
 Street, make my escape at last into the street. 
 
 I was now driven back upon the Assembly Ball. Eobbie
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CRAMOND 329 
 
 had failed me. The bank was watched ; it would never 
 do to risk Eowley in that neighbourhood. All I could do 
 was to wait until the morrow evening, and present myself 
 at the Assembly, let it end as it might. But I must say 
 I came to this decision with a good deal of genuine fright ; 
 and here I came for the first time to one of those places 
 where my courage stuck. I do not mean that my courage 
 boggled and made a bit of a bother over it, as it did over 
 the escape from the Castle ; I mean, stuck, like a stopped 
 watch or a dead man. Certainly I would go to the ball ; 
 certainly I must see this morning about my clothes. That 
 was all decided. But the most of the shops were on the 
 other side of the valley, in the Old Town ; and it was now 
 my strange discovery that I was physically unable to cross 
 the North Bridge ! It was as though a precipice had stood 
 between us, or the deep sea had intervened. Nearer to the 
 Castle my legs refused to bear me. 
 
 I told myself this was mere superstition ; I made wagers 
 with myself — and gained them ; I went down on the es- 
 planade of Princes Street, walked and stood there, alone 
 and conspicuous, looking across the garden at the old grey 
 bastions of the fortress, where all these troubles had be- 
 gun. I cocked my hat, set my hand on my hip, and swag- 
 gered on the pavement, confronting detection. And I 
 found I could do all this with a sense of exhilaration that 
 was not unpleasing, and with a certain cranerie of manner 
 that raised me in my own esteem. And yet there was one 
 thing I could not bring my mind to face up to, or my 
 limbs to execute ; and that was to cross the valley into the 
 Old Town. It seemed to me I must be arrested immedi- 
 ately if I had done so ; I must go straight into the twi- 
 light of a prison cell, and pass straight thence to the 
 gross and final embraces of the nightcap and the hal-' 
 ter. And yet it was from no reasoned fear of the con-
 
 330 ST. IVES 
 
 sequences that I conlcl not go. I was nnaLle. My horse 
 baulked, and there was an end ! 
 
 My nerve was gone : here was a discovery for a man in 
 such imminent peril, set down to so desperate a game, 
 which I could only hope to win by continual luck and un- 
 flagging effrontery ! The strain had been too long con- 
 tinued, and my nerve was gone. I fell into what they call 
 panic fear, as I have seen soldiers do on the alarm of a 
 night attack, and turned out of Princes Street at random 
 as though the devil were at my heels. In St. Andrew's 
 Square, I remember vaguely hearing some one call out. I 
 paid no heed, but pressed on blindly. A moment after, a 
 hand fell heavily on my shoulder, and I thought I had 
 fainted. Certainly the world went black about me for 
 some seconds ; and when that spasm passed I found myself 
 standing face to face with the *' cheerful extravagant," in 
 what sort of disarray I really dare not imagine, dead white 
 at least, shaking like an aspen, and mowing at the man 
 with speechless lips. And this was the soldier of Napoleon, 
 and the gentleman who intended going next night to an 
 Assembly Ball ! I am the more particular in telling of my 
 breakdown, because it was my only experience of the sort ; 
 and it is a good tale for officers. I will allow no man to 
 call me coward ; I have made my proofs ; few men more. 
 And yet I (come of the best blood in France and inured to 
 danger from a child) did, for some ten or twenty minutes, 
 make this hideous exhibition of myself on the streets of 
 the New Town of Edinburgh. 
 
 With my first available breath I begged his pardon, 1 
 was of an extremely nervous disposition, recently increased 
 by late hours ; I could not bear the slightest start. 
 
 He seemed much concerned. " You must be in a devil 
 of a state ! " said he ; *' though of course it was my fault 
 — damnably silly, vulgar sort of thing to do ! A thousand
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CRAMOND 331 
 
 apologies ! But yon really must be run down ; you should 
 consult a medico. My dear sir, a hair of the dog that bit 
 you is clearly indicated. A touch of Blue Euin, now ? 
 Or, come : it's early, but is man the slave of hours ? what 
 do you say to a chop and a bottle in Dumbreck's Hotel ? '* 
 
 I refused all false comfort ; but when he went on to re- 
 mind me that this was the day when the University of 
 Cramond met ; and to propose a five-mile walk into the 
 country and a dinner in the company of young asses like 
 himself, I began to think otherwise. I had to wait until 
 to-morrow evening, at any rate ; this might serve as well 
 as anything else to bridge the dreary hours. The country 
 was the very place for me ; and walking is an excellent 
 sedative for the nerves. Eem.embering poor Rowley, feign- 
 ing a cold in our lodgings and immediately under the guns 
 of the formidable and now doubtful Bethiah, I asked if I 
 might bring my servant. " Poor devil ! it is dull for him," 
 I exjDlained. 
 
 "The merciful man is merciful to his ass," observed my 
 sententious friend. " Bring him by all means ! 
 
 * The harp, his sole remaining joy, 
 Was carried by an orphan boy ; ' 
 
 and I have no doubt the orphan boy can get some cold 
 victuals in the kitchen, while the Senatus dines. '* 
 
 Accordingly, being now quite recovered from my un- 
 manly condition, except that nothing could yet induce me 
 to cross the North Bridge, I arranged for my ball dress at 
 a shop in Leith Street, where I was not served ill, cut out 
 Rowley from his seclusion, and was ready along with him 
 at the trysting-place, the corner of Duke Street and York 
 Place, by a little after two. The University was repre- 
 sented in force : eleven persons, including ourselves, Byfield 
 the aeronaut, and the tall lad, Forbes, whom I had met on
 
 332 ST. IVES 
 
 the Sunday morning, bedewed with tallow, at the " Hun- 
 ters' Rest." I was introduced ; and we set oU by way of 
 Newhaven and the sea beach ; at first througli pleasant 
 country roads, and afterwards along a succession of bays of 
 a fairylike prettiness, to our destination — Cramond on the 
 Almond — a little hamlet on a little river, embowered in 
 woods, and looking forth over a great flat of quicksand to 
 where a little islet stood planted in the sea. It was min- 
 iature scenery, but charming of its kind. The air of this 
 good February afternoon was bracing, but not cold. All 
 the way my companions were skylarking, jesting, and 
 making puns, and I felt as if a load had been taken off my 
 lungs and spirits, and skylarked with the best of them. 
 
 Byfield I observed, because I had heard of him before, 
 and seen his advertisements, not at all because I was dis- 
 posed to feel interest in the man. He was dark and bilious 
 and very silent ; frigid in his manners, but burning in- 
 ternally with a great fire of excitement ; and he was so 
 good as to bestow a good deal of his company and conver- 
 sation (such as it was) upon myself, who was not in the 
 least grateful. If I had known how I was to be connected 
 with him in the immediate future, I might have taken 
 more pains. 
 
 In the hamlet of Cramond there is a hostelry of no very 
 promising appearance, and here a room had been prepared 
 for us, and we sat down to table. 
 
 " Here you will find no guttling or gormandising, no 
 turtle or nightingales' tongues," said the extravagant, 
 whose name, by the way, was Dalmahoy. " The device, 
 sir, of the University of Cramond is Plain Living and 
 High Drinking." 
 
 Grace was said by the Professor of Divinity, in a maca- 
 ronic Latin, which I could by no means follow, only I could 
 hear it rhymed, and I guessed it to be more wittj than
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CRAMOND 333 
 
 reverent. After which the Seiiatus Acadeniicus sat down 
 to rough plenty in the shape of rizzar'd haddocks and 
 mustard;, a sheep's head, a haggis, and other delicacies of 
 Scotland. The dinner was washed down with brown 
 stout in bottle, and as soon as the cloth was removed, 
 glasses, boiling water, sugar, and whisky were set out for 
 the manufacture of toddy. I played a good knife and fork, 
 did not shun the bowl, and took part, so far as I was able, 
 in the continual fire of pleasantry with which the meal was 
 seasoned. Greatly daring, I ventured, before all these 
 Scotsmen, to tell Sim's Tale of Tweedie's dog ; and I was 
 held to have done such extraordinary justice to the dialect, 
 *' for a Southron," that I was immediately voted into the 
 Chair of Scots, and became, from that moment, a full 
 member of the University of Cramond. A little after, I 
 found myself entertaining them with a song ; and a little 
 after — perhaps a little in consequence — it occurred to me 
 that I had had enough, and would be very well inspired to 
 take French leave. It was not difficult to manage, for it 
 was nobody's business to observe my movements, and con- 
 viviality had banished suspicion. 
 
 I got easily forth of the chamber, which reverberated 
 with the voices of these merry and learned gentlemen, and 
 breathed a long breath. I had passed an agreeable after- 
 noon and evening, and I had apparently escaped scot free. 
 Alas ! when I looked into the kitchen, there was my 
 monkey, drunk as a lord, toppling on the edge of the 
 dresser, and performing on the flageolet to an audience of 
 the house lasses and some neighbouring ploughmen. 
 
 I routed him promptly from his perch, stuck his hat on, 
 put his instrument in his pocket, and set off with him for 
 Edinburgh. His limbs were of paper, his mind quite in 
 abeyance ; I must uphold and guide him, prevent his fran- 
 tic dives, and set him continually on his legs again. At
 
 334 ST. IVES 
 
 first he sang wildly, with occasional outbursts of causeless 
 laughter. Gradually an inarticulate melancholy succeeded ; 
 he wept gently at times ; would stop in the middle of the 
 road, say firmly " No, no, no," and then fall on his back : 
 or else address me solemnly as " M'lord," and fall on his 
 face by way of variety. I am afraid I was not always so 
 gentle with the little pig as I might have been, but really 
 the position was unbearable. We made no headway at all, 
 and I suppose we were scarce gotten a mile away from Cra- 
 mond, when the whole Senafus Academicus was heard 
 hailing, and doubling the pace to overtake us. 
 
 Some of them were fairly presentable ; and they were all 
 Christian martyrs compared to Eowley : but they were in 
 a frolicsome and rollicking humour that promised danger 
 as we approached the town. They sang songs, they ran 
 races, they fenced with their walking-sticks and umbrellas ; 
 and, in spite of this violent exercise, the fun grew only the 
 more extravagant with the miles they traversed. Their 
 drunkenness was deep-seated and permanent, like fire in a 
 peat ; or rather — to be quite just to them — it was not so 
 much to be called drunkenness at all, as the effect of youth 
 and high spirits — a fine night, and the night young, a good 
 road under foot, and the world before you ! 
 
 I had left them once somewhat unceremoniously ; I 
 could not attempt it a second time ; and, burthened as 5 
 was with Mr. Rowley, I was really glad of assistance. But 
 I saw the lamps of Edinburgh draw near on their hill-top 
 with a good deal of uneasiness, which increased, after we 
 had entered the lighted streets, to positive alarm. All the 
 passers-by were addressed, some of them by name. A 
 worthy man was stopped by Forbes. " Sir," said he, " in 
 the name of the Senatus of the University of Cramond, I 
 confer upon you the degi'ee of LL.D.,"and with the words 
 he bonneted him. Conceive the predicament of St. Ives,
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CRAMOND 335 
 
 committed to the society of these outrageons youths, in a 
 town where the police and his cousin were both looking for 
 him ! So far, we had pursued our way unmolested, although 
 raising a clamour fit to wake the dead ; but at last, in 
 Abercromby Place, I believe — at least it was a crescent of 
 highly respectable houses fronting on a garden — Byfield 
 and I, having fallen somewhat in the rear with Rowley, 
 came to a simultaneous halt. Our ruffians were beginning 
 to wrench off bells and door-plates ! 
 
 " 0, I say ! " says Byfield, " this is too much of a good 
 thing ! Confound it, I'm a respectable man — a public 
 character, by George ! I can't afford to get taken up by 
 the police.'^ 
 
 " My own case exactly," said I. 
 
 " Here, let's bilk them," said he. 
 
 And we turned back and took our way down hill again. 
 
 It was none too soon : voices and alarm-bells sounded ; 
 watchmen here and there began to spring their rattles ; it 
 was plain the University of Cramond would soon be at 
 blows Avith the police of Edinburgh ! Byfield and I, run- 
 ning the semi-inanimate Eowley before us, made good de- 
 spatch, and did not stop till we were several streets away, 
 and the hubbub was already softened by distance. 
 
 " Well, sir," said he, " we are well out of that ! Did 
 ever any one see such a pack of young barbariarks ? " 
 
 ''We are properly punished, Mr. B3'field ; we had no 
 business there," I replied. 
 
 ''No, indeed, sir, you may well say that ! Outrageous ! 
 And my ascension announced for Friday, you know ! " 
 cried the aeronaut. "A pretty scandal ! Byfield the aero- 
 naut at the police-court ! Tut-tut ! Will you be able to 
 get your rascal home, sir ? Allow me to offer you my card. 
 I am staying at Walker and Poole's Hotel, sir, where I 
 should be pleased to see you."
 
 336 ST. IVES 
 
 ** The pleasure would be mutual, sir/' said I ; but I must 
 say my heart was not in my words, and as I watched Mr. 
 Byfield departing, I desired nothing less than to pursue 
 the acquaintance. 
 
 One more ordeal remained for me to pass. I carried my 
 senseless load upstairs to our lodging, and was admitted by 
 the landlady in a tall white nightcap and with an expres- 
 sion singularly grim. She lighted us into the sitting- 
 room ; where, when I had seated Rowley in a chair, she 
 dropped me a cast-iron courtesy. I smelt gunpowder on 
 the Avoman. Her voice tottered with emotion. 
 
 *'I give ye nottice, Mr. Ducie,*' said she. "Dacenfc 
 folks' houses ..." 
 
 And at that apparently temper cut off her utterance, 
 and she took herself off without more woi'ds. 
 
 I looked about me at the room, the goggling Rowley, 
 the extinguished fire ; my mind reviewed the laughable in- 
 cidents of the day and night ; and I laughed out loud to 
 myself — lonely and cheerless laughter ! 
 
 [At this point the story as written by Mr, Stevenson breaks ojf, and 
 the remaining chapters are the work of Mr. Quiller- Couch.]
 
 OHAPTEB XXXI 
 
 EVEin« OF THUESDAT : THE ASSEMBLY BALL 
 
 But I awoke to the chill reminder of dawn, and found 
 myself no master even of cheerless mirth. I had supped 
 with the Senatu8 Academicus of Cramond : so much my 
 head informed me. It (vas Thursday, the day of the 
 Assembly Ball. But the ball was fixed by the card for 
 8 P.M., and I had, therefore, twelve mortal hours to wear 
 through as best I could. Doubtless it was this reflection 
 which prompted me to leap out of bed instanter and ring 
 for Mr. Rowley and my shaving water. 
 
 Mr. Rowley, it appeared, was in no such hurry. I 
 tugged a second time at the bell-rope. A groan answered 
 me : and there in the doorway stood, or rather titubated, 
 my paragon of body-servants. He was collarless, unkempt ; 
 his face a tinted map of shame and bodily disorder. His 
 hand shook on the hot-water can, and spilled its contents 
 into his shoes. I opened on him with a tirade, but had no 
 heart to continue. The fault, after all, was mine : and it 
 argued something like heroism in the lad that he had 
 fought his nausea down and come up to time. 
 
 **But not smiling,*^ I assured him. 
 
 ** 0, please, Mr. Anne. Go on, sir ; I deserve it. 
 But V\\ never do it again, strike me sky-blue scarlet I " 
 
 ** In so far as that diiiered from your present colouring, 
 I believe,*' said I, ** it would be an improvement." 
 32 837
 
 338 ST. IVES 
 
 )f 
 
 *' Never again, Mr. Anne. 
 
 ** Certainly not, Eowley. Even to good men this may 
 happen once : beyond that, carelessness shades off into 
 depravity.** 
 
 ** Yessir.** 
 
 ** You gave a good deal of trouble last night. I have 
 yet to meet Mrs. McRankine." 
 
 " As for that, Mr. Anne," said he, with an incongruous 
 twinkle in his bloodshot eye, ^' she've been up with a tray : 
 dry toast and a pot of tea. The old gal's bark is worse 
 than her bite, sir, begging your pardon, and meaning as 
 she's a decent one, she is." 
 
 " I was fearing that might be just the trouble," I an- 
 swered. 
 
 One thing is certain. Rowley, that morning, should 
 not be entrusted with a razor and the handling of my chin. 
 I sent him back to his bed, with orders not to rise from it 
 without permission ; and went about my toilette deliber- 
 ately. In spite of the lad, I did not enjoy the prospect of 
 Mrs. McRankine. 
 
 I enjoyed it so little, indeed, that I fell to poking the 
 sitting-room fire when she entered with the Mercury ; 
 and read the Mercury assiduously while she brought in 
 breakfast. She set down the tray with a slam and stood 
 beside it, her hands on her hips, her whole attitude breath- 
 ng challenge. 
 
 '' Well, Mrs. McRankine ?" I began, upturning a hypo- 
 critical eye from the newspaper. 
 
 '' ' Well,' is it ? Nhm!" 
 
 I lifted the breakfast cover, and saw before me a dam- 
 natory red herring. 
 
 "Rowley was very foolish last night," I remarked, with 
 a discriminating stress on the name. 
 
 " * The ass knoweth his master's crib.*" She pointed
 
 THE ASSEMBLY BALL 339 
 
 to the herring. " It's all ye'll get, Mr. — Ducie, if that's 
 your name/' 
 
 " Madam " — I held out the fish at the end of my fork — 
 **you '^rag it across the track of an apology." I set it 
 back on the dish and replaced the cover. *^ It is clear that 
 you wish us gone. Well and good : grant Rowley a day 
 for recovery, and to-morrow you shall be quit of us." I 
 reached for my hat. 
 
 " Whaur are ye gaun ? " 
 
 " To seek other lodgings." 
 
 " I'll no say Man, man ! have a care ! And me 
 
 but to close an eye the nicht ! " She dropped into a chair. 
 **Nay, Mr. Ducie, ye daurna! Think o' that innocent 
 lamb ! " 
 
 " That little pig." 
 
 *' He's ower young to die," sobbed my landlady. 
 
 *' In the abstract I agree with you : but I am not aware 
 that Eowley's death is required. Say rather that he is 
 ower young to turn King's evidence." I stepped back 
 from the door. *'Mrs. McRankine," I said, "I believe 
 you to be soft-hearted. I know you to be curious. You 
 will be pleased to sit perfectly still and listen to me." 
 
 And, resuming my seat, I leaned across the corner of 
 the table and put my case before her without suppression 
 or extenuation. Her breathing tightened over my sketch 
 ol the duel with Goguelat ; and again more sharply as I 
 told of my descent of the rock. Of Alain she said, *' I 
 ken his sort," and of Flora twice, '' I'm wonderin' will I 
 have seen her ? " For the rest, she heard me out in silence, 
 and rose and walked to the door without a word. There 
 she turned. " It's a verra queer tale. If McRankine had 
 told me the like, I'd have gien him the lie to his face." 
 
 Two minutes later I heard the vials of her speech un- 
 sealed above stairs, with detonations that shook the house.
 
 840 6T. IVES 
 
 I had touched off my rocket, and the stick descended— on 
 the prostrate Eowley. 
 
 And now I must face the inert hours. I sat down, and 
 read my way through the Mercury. " The escaped French 
 soldier, Champdivers, who is wanted in connection with 
 the recent horrid murder at the Castle, remains at large 
 
 *' the rest but repeated the advertisement of Tuesday. 
 
 *'At large I" I set down the paper, and turned to my 
 landlady's library. It consisted of Durham's Physico- and 
 Astro- Tlieologyy The Scripture Doctrine of Original Sm, 
 by one Taylor, D.D., The Ready Reckoner or Tradesman's 
 Sure Guide, and The Path to the Pit delineated, tvith 
 Twelve Engravings on Copper-plate. For distraction 1 fell 
 to pacing the room, and rehearsing those remembered 
 tags of Latin verse concerning which M. de Culemberg had 
 long ago assured me, '* My son, we know not when, but 
 some day they will come back to you with solace if not 
 with charm/' Good man \ My feet trod the carpet to 
 Horace's Alcaics. Virtus recludens immeritis mori Caelum 
 — h'm, h'm — raro — 
 
 raro antecedentem scelestum 
 deseruit pede Poena claudo. 
 
 I paused by the window. In this there was no indiscretion ; 
 for a cold drizzle washed the panes, and the warmth of the 
 apartment dimmed their inner surface. 
 
 " Pede Pcena claudo," my finger traced the words on 
 the damp glass. 
 
 A sudden clamour of the street-door bell sent me skip- 
 ping back to the fireplace with my heart in my mouth. 
 Interminable minutes followed, and at length Mrs. Mc- 
 Rankine entered with my ball suit from the tailor's. I 
 carried it into the next room, and disposed it on the bed 
 —olive-green coat with gilt buttons and facings of watered
 
 THE ASSEMBLY BALL 341 
 
 silk, olive-green pantaloons, white waistcoat sprigged with 
 blue and green forget-me-nots. The survey carried me on 
 to midday and the midday meal. 
 
 The ministry of meal-time is twice blest : for prisoners 
 and men without appetite it punctuates and makes time 
 of eternity. I dawdled over my chop and pint of brown 
 stout until Mrs. McEankine, after twice entering to clear 
 away, with the face of a Cumaean sibyl, so far relaxed the 
 tension of unnatural calm as to inquire if I meant to be 
 all night about it. 
 
 The afternoon wore into dusk ; and with dusk she reap- 
 peared with a tea-tray. At six I retired to dress. 
 
 Behold me now issuing from my chamber, conscious of 
 a well-fitting coat and a shapely pair of legs ; the dignified 
 simplicity of my tournure (simj)licity so proper to the scion 
 of an exiled house) relieved by a dandiacal hint of shirt- 
 frill, and corrected into tenderness by the virgin waistcoat 
 sprigged with forget-me-nots (for constancy), and buttoned 
 with pink coral (for hope). Satisfied of the effect, I 
 sought the apartment of Mr. Rowley of the Rueful 
 Countenance, and found him less yellow, but still contrite, 
 and listening to Mrs. McRankine, who sat with open book 
 by his bedside, and plied him with pertinent dehortations 
 from the Book of Proverbs. 
 
 He brightened. 
 
 " My heye, Mr. Hann, if that ain't up to the knocker ! " 
 
 Mrs. McRankine closed the book, and conned me with 
 austerer approval. 
 
 ** Ye carry it well, I will say." 
 
 '* It fits, I think." 
 
 I turned myself complacently about. 
 
 ** The drink, I'm meaning. I kenned McRankine.** 
 
 '* Shall we talk of business, madam ? In the first place, 
 the quittance for our board and lodging."
 
 342 ST. IVES 
 
 *' I mak' it out on Saturdays." 
 
 *'Do so; and deduct it out of this." I handed twenty- 
 five of my guineas into her keeping : this left me Avith five 
 and a crown piece in my pocket. " The balance, while it 
 lasts, will serve for Rowley's keep and current expenses. 
 Before long I hope he may lift the money which lies in 
 the bank at his service, as he knows." 
 
 " But you'll come back, Mr. Anne ?" cried the lad. 
 
 " I'm afraid it's a toss-up, my boy. Discipline, remem- 
 ber ! " — for he was preparing to leap out of bed there and 
 then — " You can serve me better in Edinburgh. All you 
 have to do is to wait for a clear coast, and seek and pre- 
 sent yourself in private before Mr. T. Eobbie of Castle 
 Street, or Miss Flora Gilchrist of Swanston Cottage. 
 From either or both of these you will take your instruc- 
 tions. Here are the addresses." 
 
 "If that's a' you need for the lad," said Mrs. Mc- 
 Riinkine, " he'll be eating his head off : no to say drink- 
 ing." Eowley winced. 'Til tak' him on mysel'." 
 
 *' My dear woman " 
 
 " He'll be a brand frae the burnin' : and he'll do to 
 clean the knives." 
 
 She would hear no denial. I committed the lad to her 
 in this double capacity ; and equipped with a pair of go- 
 loshes from the wardrobe of the late McRankine, sallied 
 forth upon the rain-swept street. 
 
 The card of admission directed me to Buccleuch Place, a 
 little off George Square ; and here I found a wet rag of a 
 crowd gathered about a couple of lanterns and a striped 
 awning. Beneath the awning a panel of light fell on the 
 plashy pavement. Already the guests were arriving. I 
 whipped in briskly, presented my card, and passed up a 
 staircase decorated with flags, evergreens, and national em- 
 blems. A venerable flunkey waited for me at the summit.
 
 THE ASSEMBLY BALL 343 
 
 " Cloak lobby to the left, sir/' I obeyed, and exchanged 
 my overcoat and goloshes for a circular metal ticket. 
 " What name, sir ? " he purred over my card, as I lingered 
 in the vestibule for a moment to scan the ball-room and 
 my field of action : then, having cleared his throat, bawled 
 suddenly, " Mr. Ducie ! " 
 
 It might have been a stage direction. ' A tucTcet soimds. 
 Enter the Vicomte, disguised.' To tell the truth, this 
 entry was a daunting business. A dance had just come to 
 an end ; and the musicians in the gallery had fallen to 
 tuning their violins. The chairs arrayed along the walls 
 were thinly occupied, and as yet the social temperature 
 scarce rose to thawing-point. In fact, the second-rate 
 people had arrived, and from the far end of the room were 
 nervously watching the door for notables. Consequently 
 my entrance drew a disquieting fire of observation. The 
 mirrors, reflectors, and girandoles had eyes for me ; and as 
 I advanced up the perspective of waxed floor, the very 
 boards winked detection. A little Master of Ceremonies, 
 as round as the rosette on his lapel, detached himself from 
 the nearest group, and approached with something of a 
 skater's motion and an insinuating smile. 
 
 " Mr. — a — Ducie, if I heard aright ? A stranger, I be- 
 lieve, to our northern capital, and I hope a dancer ? " I 
 bowed. " Grant me the pleasure, Mr. Ducie, of finding 
 you a partner/' 
 
 '*If," said I, ^'you would present me to the young lady 
 
 yonder, beneath the musician's gallery " For I reoog- 
 
 nised Master Ronald's flame, the girl in pink of Mr. Rob- 
 bie's party, to-night gowned in apple-green. 
 
 '' Miss McBean — Miss Camilla McBean ? With pleas- 
 ure. Great discrimination you show, sir. Be so good as 
 to follow me." 
 
 I was led forward and presented. Miss McBean re-
 
 344 ST. IVES 
 
 Bponded to my bovr with great play of shoulders ; and in 
 turn presented me to her mother, a moustachioed lady in 
 stiflE black silk, surmounted with a black cap and coqueli- 
 cot trimmings. 
 
 '* Any friend of Mr. Robbie's, I'm sure," murmured 
 Mrs. McBean, affably inclining. " Look, Camilla dear — 
 Sir William and Lady Frazer — in laylock sarsuet — how 
 well that diamond bandeau becomes her ! They are early 
 to-night. As I was saying, Mr. " 
 
 " Ducie." 
 
 " TohQ sure. As I was saying, ajiy friend of Mr. Rob- 
 bie — one of my oldest acquaintance. If you can manage 
 now to break him of his bachelor habits ! You are making 
 a long stay in Edinburgh ? " 
 
 "I fear, madam, that I must leave it to-morrow.'' 
 
 " You have seen all our lions, I suppose ? The Castle, 
 now ? Ah, the attractions of London ! — now don't shake 
 your head, Mr. Ducie. I hope I know a Londoner when I 
 see one. And yet 'twould surprise you how fast we are 
 advancing in Edinburgh. Camilla dear, that Miss Scrym- 
 geour has edged her China crape with the very ribbon 
 trimmings — black satin with pearl edge — we saw in that 
 new shop in Princes Street yesterday : sixpenny width at 
 the bottom, and three-three-farthings round the bodice. 
 Perhaps you can tell me, Mr. Ducie, if it's really true that 
 ribbon trimmings are the heiylit in London and Bath this 
 year ? " 
 
 But the band struck up, and I swept the unresisting 
 Camilla towards the set. After the dance, the ladies (who 
 were kind enough to compliment me on my performance) 
 suffered themselves to be led to the tea-room. By this 
 time the arrivals were following each other thick and fast ; 
 and, standing by the tea-table, I heard name after name 
 vociferated at the ball-room door, but never the name my
 
 THE ASSEMBLY BALL 345 
 
 nerves were on the strain to echo. Surely Flora would 
 come : surely none of her guardians, natural or officious, 
 would expect to find me at the ball. But the minutes 
 passed, and I must convey Mrs. and Miss McBean back to 
 their seats beneath the gallery. 
 
 " Miss Gilchrist — Miss Flora Gilchrist— Mr. Ronald Gil- 
 christ ! Mr. Robbie ! Major Arthur Chevenix ! " 
 
 The first name plumped like a shot across my bows, and 
 brought me up standing — for a second only. Before the 
 catalogue was out, I had dropped the McBeans at their 
 moorings and was heading down on my enemies' line of 
 battle. Their faces were a picture. Flora's cheek flushed, 
 and her lips parted in the prettiest cry of wonder. Mr. 
 Robbie took snuff. Ronald went red in the face, and Ma- 
 jor Chevenix white. The intrepid Miss Gilchrist turned 
 not a hair. 
 
 " What will be the meaning of this ? " she demanded, 
 drawing to a stand, and surveying me through her gold- 
 rimmed eyeglass. 
 
 " Madam," said I, with a glance at Chevenix, '' you may 
 6all it a cutting-out expedition." 
 
 " Miss Gilchrist," he began, " you will surely not " 
 
 But I was too quick for him. 
 
 " Madam, since when has the gallant Major superseded 
 Mr. Robbie as your family adviser ? " 
 
 " H'mph ! " said Miss Gilchrist ; which in itself was not 
 reassuring. But she turned to the lawyer. 
 
 " My dear lady," he answered her look, ^' this very im- 
 prudent young man seems to have burnt his boats, and no 
 doubt recks very little if, in that heroical conflagration, he 
 burns our fingers. Speaking, however, as your family ad- 
 viser" — and he laid enough stress on it to convince me that 
 there was no love lost between him and the interloping 
 Chevenix — ^^I suggest that we gain nothing by protra<3ting
 
 S46 ST. IVES 
 
 this scene in the face of a crowded assembly. Are yon for 
 the card-room, Madam ? " 
 
 She took his proffered arm, and they swept from us, 
 leaving Master Ronald red and glum, and the Major pale 
 bnt nonplussed. 
 
 ** Four from six leaves two/' said I ; and promptly en- 
 gaged Flora's arm and towed her away from the silenced 
 batteries. 
 
 ** And now, my dear," I added, as we found two isolated 
 chairs, *'you will kindly demean yourself as if we were met 
 for the first or second time in our lives. Open your fan — 
 so. Now listen : my cousin, Alain, is in Edinburgh, at 
 Dumbreck's Hotel. No, don't lower it." 
 
 She held up the fan, though her small wrist trembled. 
 
 *' There is worse to come. He has brought Bow Street 
 with him, and likely enough at this moment the runners 
 are ransacking the city hot-foot for my lodgings." 
 
 " And you linger and show yourself here ! — here of all 
 places ! 0, it is mad ! Anne, why will you be so 
 rash?" 
 
 ** For the simple reason that I have been a fool, my dear. 
 I banked the balance of my money in George Street, and 
 the bank is watched. I must have money to win my way 
 south. Therefore I must find you and reclaim the notes 
 you were kind enough to keep for me. I go to Swanston 
 and find you under surveillance of Chevenix, supported by 
 an animal called Towzer. I may have killed Towzer, by 
 the way. If so, transported to an equal sky, he may 
 shortly have the faithful Chevenix to bear him company. 
 I grow tired of Chevenix." 
 
 But the fan dropped : her arms lay limp in her lap ; and 
 she was staring up at me piteously, with a world of self- 
 reproach in her beautiful eyes. 
 
 ** And I locked up the notes at home to-night — when I
 
 THE ASSEMBLY BALL 347 
 
 dressed for the ball — the first time they have left my 
 heart ! 0, false ! — false of trust that I am ! " 
 
 "■ Why, dearest, that is not fatal, I hope. You reach 
 home to-night — you slip them into some hiding — say in 
 the corner of the wall below the garden " 
 
 " Stop : let me think." She picked up her fan again, 
 and behind it iier eyes darkened while I watched and she 
 considered. '* You know the hill we pass before we reach 
 Swanston? it has a clump of firs above it, like a fin. There 
 is a qnarry on the east slope. If you will be there at eight 
 — I can manage it, I think, and bring the money." 
 
 *' But why should you run the risk ?" 
 
 *' Please, Anne — 0, please let me do something ! If 
 you knew what it is to sit at home while your — your 
 dearest " 
 
 "The Viscount of Saint- Yves \" 
 
 The name, shouted from the doorway, rang down her 
 faltering sentence as with the clash of an alarm bell. I 
 saw Ronald — in talk with Miss McBean but a few yards 
 away — spin round on his heel and turn slowly back on me 
 with a face of sheer bewilderment. There was no time to 
 conceal myself. To reach either the tea-room or the card- 
 room, I must traverse twelve feet of open floor. We sat in 
 clear view of the main entrance ; and there already, with 
 eyeglass lifted, raffish, flamboyant, exuding pomades and 
 bad style, stood my detestable cousin. He saw us at once ; 
 wheeled right-about-face, and spoke to some one in the 
 vestibule ; wheeled round again, and bore straight down, a 
 full swagger varnishing his malign triumph. Flora caught 
 her breath as I stood up to accost him. 
 
 " Good evening, my cousin ! The newspaper told me 
 you were favouring this city with a stay." 
 
 " At Dumbreck's Hotel : where, my dear Anne, you 
 have not yet done me the pleasure to seek me out.'*
 
 348 ST. IVES 
 
 ** I gathered," said I, " that you were forestalling the 
 compliment. Onr meeting, then, is unexpected V 
 
 " Why, no ; for, to tell the truth, the secretary of the 
 Ball Committee, this afternoon, allowed me a glance over 
 his list of ifivites. I am apt to be nice about my com- 
 pany, cousin." 
 
 Ass that I was ! I had never given this obvious danger 
 so much as a thought. 
 
 '' I fancy I have seen one of your latest intimates about 
 the street.'^ 
 
 He eyed me, and answered, with a bluff laugh. " Ah ! 
 You gave us the very devil of a chase. You appear, my 
 dear Anne, to have a hare's propensity for running in your 
 tracks. And begad, I don't wonder at it ! " he wound up, 
 ogling Flora with an insolent stare. 
 
 Him one might have hunted by scent alone. He reeked 
 of essences. 
 
 " Present me, mo)i brave." 
 
 *' I'll be shot if I do." 
 
 " I believe they reserve that privilege for soldiers," he 
 mused. 
 
 *' At any rate they don't extend it to " I pulled up 
 
 on the word. He had the upper hand, but I could at least 
 play the game out with decency. " Come," said I, " a 
 contre-danse will begin presently. Find yourself a partner, 
 and I promise you shall be our vis-a-vis." 
 
 *' You have blood in you, my cousin." 
 
 He bowed, and went in search of the Master of Ceremo- 
 nies. I gave an arm to Flora. "Well, and how does 
 Alain strike you ? " I asked. 
 
 '' He is a handsome man," she allowed. " If your uncle 
 had treated him differently, I believe " 
 
 " And I believe that no woman alive can distinguish 
 between a gentleman and a dancing-master ! A posture
 
 THE ASSEMBLY BALL 349 
 
 or two, and yon interpret worth. My dear girl — that fel- 
 low ! " 
 
 She was silent. I have since learnt why. It seems, if 
 you please, that the very same remark had been made to 
 her by that idiot Chevenix, upon me ! 
 
 We were close to the door : we passed it, and I flung a 
 glance into the vestibule. There, sure enough, at the 
 head of the stairs, was jiosted my friend of the moleskin 
 waistcoat, in talk with a confederate by some shades 
 uglier than himself — a red-headed, loose-legged scoundrel 
 in cinder-grey. 
 
 I was fairly in the trap. I turned, and between the 
 moving crowd caught Alain^s eye and his evil smile. He 
 had found a partner : no less a personage than Lady Fra- 
 zer of the lilac sarsnet and diamond bandeau. 
 
 Eor some unaccountable reason, in this infernal impasse 
 my spirits began to rise, to soar. I declare it : I led Flora 
 forward to the set with a gaiety which may have been un- 
 natural, but was certainly not factitious. A Scotsman 
 would have called me fey. As the song goes — and it 
 matters not if I had it then, or read it later in my wife's 
 library — 
 
 " Sae rantingly, sae wantonly 
 Sae dauntingly gaed he ; 
 He played a spring and danced it round 
 Beneath " 
 
 never mind what. The band played the spring and I 
 danced it round, while my cousin eyed me with extorted 
 approval. The quadrille includes an absurd figure — called, 
 I think. La Pastourelle. You take a lady with either hand 
 and jig them to and fro, for all the world like an English- 
 man of legend parading a couple of wives for sale at Smith- 
 field ; while the other male, like a timid purchaser, backs 
 and advances with his arms dangling.
 
 360 ST. IVES 
 
 ** I've lived a life of sturt and strife, 
 I die by treaclierie — " 
 
 I challenged Alaiu with an open smile as he backed before 
 as; and no sooner was the dance over, than I saw him 
 desert Lady Frazer on a hurried excuse, and seek the door 
 to satisfy himself that his men were on guard. 
 
 I dropped laughing into a chair beside Flora. '* Anne," 
 she whispered, "who is on the stairs ?" 
 
 " Two Bow Street runners." 
 
 If you have seen a dove — a dove caught in a gin ! ** The 
 back stairs ! " she urged. 
 
 " They will be watched too. But let us make sure.** I 
 crossed to the tea-room, and, encountering a waiter, drew 
 him aside. Was there a man watching the back entrance ? 
 He could not tell me. For a guinea would he find out ? 
 He went and, returned in less than a minute. Yes, there 
 was a constable below. " It's just a young gentleman to 
 be put to the haw for debt," I explained, recalling the bar- 
 barous and, to me, still unmeaning phrase. " I'm no 
 speiring," replied the waiter. 
 
 I made my way back, and was not a little disgusted to 
 find my chair occupied by the unconscionable Chevenix. 
 
 ''My dear Miss Flora, you are unwell \" Indeed, she 
 was pale enough, poor child, and trembling. *' Major, she 
 will be swooning in another minute. Get her to the tea- 
 room, quick ! while I fetch Mrs. Gilchrist. She must be 
 taken home." 
 
 *' It is nothing," she faltered : " it will pass. Pray do 
 
 not " As she glanced up, she caught my meaning, 
 
 '' Yes, yes : I will go home." 
 
 She took the Major's arm, while I hurried to the card- 
 room. As luck would have it, the old lady was in the act 
 of rising from the green table, having just cut out from a 
 rubber. Mr. Eobbie was her partner ; and I saw (and
 
 THE ASSEMBLY BALL 361 
 
 blessed my star for the first time that night) the little heap 
 of silver which told that she had been winning. 
 
 " Miss Gilchrist," I whispered, " Miss Flora is faint : the 
 heat of the room " 
 
 " Tve not observed it. The ventilation is considered 
 pairfect." 
 
 " She wishes to be taken home.^* 
 
 With fine composure she counted back her money, piece 
 by piece, into a velvet reticule. 
 
 "Twelve and sixpence," she proclaimed. "Ye held 
 good cards, Mr. Kobbie. Well, Mosha the Viscount, we'll 
 go and see about it." 
 
 I led her to the tea-room : Mr, Robbie followed. Flora 
 rested on a sofa in a truly dismal state of collapse, while 
 the Major fussed about her with a cup of tea. " I have 
 sent Ronald for the carriage," he announced. 
 
 " H'm," said Miss Gilchrist, eyeing him oddly, "well, 
 it's your risk. Ye'd best hand me the teacup, and get our 
 shawls from the lobby. You have the tickets. Be ready 
 for us at the top of the stairs." 
 
 No sooner was the Major gone than, keeping an eye on 
 her niece, this imperturbable lady stirred the tea and drank 
 it down herself. As she drained the cup — her back for 
 the moment being turned on Mr. Robbie — I was aware of a 
 facial contortion. Was the tea (as children say) going the 
 wrong way ? 
 
 No : I believe — aid me Apollo and the Nine ! I believe 
 — though I have never dared, and shall never dare to ask 
 — that Miss Gilchrist was doing her best to wink ! 
 
 On the instant entered Master Ronald with word that 
 the carriage was ready. I slipped to the door and recon- 
 noitred. The crowd was thick in the ball-room ; a dance 
 in full swing ; my cousin gambolling vivaciously, and, for 
 the moment, with his back to us. Flora leaned on Ron-
 
 352 ST. IVES 
 
 aid, and, skirting the wall, our party gained the great dooi 
 and the vestibule, where Chevenix stood with an armful of 
 cloaks. 
 
 "You and Konald can return and enjoy yourselves," 
 said i.iie old lady, '' as soon as ye've packed us off. Ye'll 
 find a hackney coach, no doubt, to bring ye home." Her 
 eye rested on the two runners, who were putting their 
 heads together behind the Major. She turned on me with 
 a stiff curtsey. " Good-niglit, sir, and I am obliged for 
 your services. Or stay — you may see us to the carriage, if 
 ye'll be so kind. Major, hand Mr. AVhat-d'ye-call some of 
 your wraps." 
 
 My eyes did not dare to bless her. We moved down the 
 stairs — Miss Grilchrist leading, Flora supported by her 
 brother and Mr. Robbie, the Major and I behind. As I 
 descended the first step, the red-headed runner made a 
 move forward. Though my gaze was glued upon the pat- 
 tern of ]\Iiss Gilchrist's Paisley shawl, I saw his finger 
 touch my arm. Yes, and I felt it, like a touch of hot iron. 
 The other man — Moleskin — plucked him by the arm : they 
 whispered. They saw me bare-headed, without my over- 
 coat. They argued, no doubt, that I was unaware ; wiis 
 seeing the ladies to their carriage ; would of course return. 
 They let me pass. 
 
 Once in the boisterous street, I darted round to the dark 
 side of the carriage. Ronald ran forward to the coachman 
 (whom I recognised for the gardener, Robie). " Miss 
 Flora is faint. Home, as fast as you can ! " He skipped 
 back under the awning. " A guinea to make it faster ! " 
 I called up from the other side of the box-seat ; and out of 
 the darkness and rain I held up the coin and pressed it 
 
 into Robie's damp palm. " What in the name ! " He 
 
 peered round, but I was back and close against the step. 
 The door was slammed. *' Right away !"
 
 THE ASSEMBLY BALL 353 
 
 It may have been fancy : but with the shout I seemed 
 to hear the voice of Alain lifted in imprecation on the 
 Assembly Room stairs. As Eobie touched up the grey, I 
 whipped open the door on my side and tumbled in — upon 
 Miss Gilchrist^s lap. 
 
 Flora choked down a cry. I recovered myself, dropped 
 into a heap of rugs on the seat facing the ladies, and pulled- 
 bo the door by its strap. 
 
 Dead silence from Miss Gilchrist ! 
 
 I had to apologise, of course. The wheels rumbled and 
 jolted over the cobbles of Edinburgh ; the windows rat- 
 tled and shook under the uncertain gusts of the city. 
 When we passed a street lamp it shed no light into the 
 vehicle, but the awful profile of my protectress loomed out 
 for a second against the yellow haze of the pane, and sank 
 back into impenetrable shade. 
 
 ''' Madam, some explanation — enough at least to mitigate 
 
 your resentment — natural, I allow " Jolt, Jolt ! And 
 
 istill a mortuary silence within the coach ! It was discon- 
 certing. Eobie for a certainty was driving his best, and 
 already we were beyond the last rare outposts of light on 
 the Lothian Eoad. 
 
 "I believe, madam, the inside of five minutes — if you 
 will allow " 
 
 I stretched out a protesting hand. In the darkness it 
 encountered Flora's. Our fingers closed upon the thrill. 
 For five, ten beatific seconds our pulses sang together, " I 
 love you ! I love you ! " in the stuffy silence. 
 
 " Mosha Saint Yvey ! " spoke up a deliberate voice 
 (Flora caught her hand away), " as far as I can make head 
 and tail of your business — supposing it to have a modicum 
 of head, which I doubt — it appears to me that I have jast 
 done you a service ; and that makes twice.'* 
 
 *' A service, madam, I shall ever remember/' 
 23
 
 354 ST. IVES 
 
 *' I'll chance that, sir ; if ye'll kindly not forget your- 
 seV." 
 
 In resumed silence we must have travelled a mile and a 
 half, or tv.o miles, when Miss Gilchrist let down the sash 
 Vrith a clatter, and thrust her head and mamelone cap 
 forth into the night. 
 
 *' Robie ! " 
 
 Robie pulled np. 
 
 *'The gentleman will alight." 
 
 It was only wisdom, for we were nearing Swanston. I 
 rose. *' Miss Gilchrist, you are a good woman ; and I 
 think the cleverest I have met." " Umph," replied she. 
 In the act of stepping forth I turned for a final handshake 
 with Flora, and my foot caught in something and dragged 
 it out upon the road. I stooped to pick it up, and heard 
 the door bang by my ear. 
 
 " Madam — your shawl ! " 
 
 But the coach lurched forward ; the wheels splashed 
 me ; and I was left standing, alone on the inclement high- 
 way. 
 
 While yet I watched the little red eyes of the vehicle, 
 and almost as they vanished, I heard more rumbling of 
 wheels, and descried two pairs of yellow eyes upon the 
 road, towards Edinburgh. There was just time enough 
 to plunge aside, to leap a fence into a rain-soaked pasture ; 
 and ihere I crouched, the water squishing over my danc- 
 ing-shoes, while with a flare, a slant of rain, and a glimpse 
 of flogging drivers, two hackney carriages pelted by at a 
 gallop.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 EVENTS OF FKIDAT MORNING : THE CUTTING OF THE 
 
 GORDIAN KNOT 
 
 I PULLED ont my watch. A fickle ray — the merest 
 filtration of moonlight — glimmered on the dial. Fourteen 
 minutes past one ! '''Past yiu o'clock, and a dark, haary 
 moarnin," I recalled the bull voice of the watchman as 
 he had called it on the night of our escape from the Cas- 
 tle — its very tones : and this echo of memory seemed to 
 strike and reverberate the hour closing a long day of fate. 
 Truly since that night the hands had run full circle, and 
 were back at the old starting-point. I had seen dawn, 
 day : I had basked in the sunshine of men's respect ; I 
 was back in the Stygian night — back in the shadow of that 
 infernal Castle — still hunted by the law — with possibly a 
 smaller chance than ever of escape — the cockshy of the 
 elements — with no shelter for my head but a Paisley shawl 
 of violent pattern. It occurred to me that I had travelled 
 much in the interval, and run many risks, to exchange a 
 suit of mustard yellow for a Paisley shawl and a ball dress 
 that matched neither it nor the climate of the Pentlands. 
 The exhilaration of the ball, the fighting spirit, the last 
 communicated thrill of Flora's hand, died out of me. In 
 the thickening envelope of sea fog I felt like a squirrel in 
 a rotatory cage. That was a lugubrious hour. 
 
 To speak precisely, those were seven lugubrious hours j 
 since Flora would not be due before eight o'clock, if, in- 
 deed, I might count on her eluding her double cordon of 
 
 355
 
 856 ST. IVES 
 
 Bpies. The question was, whither to turn in the mean- 
 time ? Certainly not back to the town. In the near 
 neighbourhood I knew of no roof but The Hunters' Tryst, 
 by Alexander Hendry. Suppose that I found it (and the 
 chances in that fog were perhaps against me), would 
 Alexander Hendry, aroused from his bed, be likely to ex- 
 tend his hospitality to a traveller with no more luggage 
 than a Paisley shawl 'i He might think I had stolen it. 
 I had borne it down the staircase under the eyes of the 
 runners, and the pattern was bitten upon my brain. It 
 was doubtless unique in the district, and familiar : an ori- 
 flamme of battle over the barter of dairy produce and malt 
 liquors. Alexander Hendry must recognise it, and with 
 an instinct of antagonism. Patently it formed no part of 
 my proper wardrobe : hardly could it be explained as a 
 gage d' amour. Eccentric hunters trysted under Hendry's 
 roof : the Six-Foot Club, for instance. But a hunter in 
 a frilled shirt and waistcoat sprigged with forget-me-nots I 
 And the house would be watched, perhaps. Every house 
 around would be watched. 
 
 The end was that I wore through the remaining hours 
 of darkness upon the sodden hillside. Superlative Miss 
 Gilchrist ! Folded in the mantle of that Spartan dame ; 
 huddled upon a boulder, while the rain descended upon 
 my bare head, and coursed down my nose, and filled my 
 shoes, and insinuated a playful trickle down the ridge of 
 my spine ; I hugged the lacerating fox of self-reproach, 
 and hugged it again, and set my teeth as it bit upon my 
 vitals. Once, indeed, I lifted an accusing arm to heaven. 
 It was as if I had pulled the string of a douche-bath. 
 Heaven flooded the fool with gratuitous tears ; and the 
 fool sat in the puddle of them and knew his folly. But 
 heaven at the same time mercifully veiled that figure of 
 abasement ; and I will lift but a corner of the sheet. ^
 
 THE CUTTING OF THE GORDIAN KNOT 357 
 
 Wind in hidden gullies, and the talk of lapsing waters 
 on the hillside, filled all the spaces of the night. The 
 high road lay at my feet, fifty yards or so below my boul- 
 der. Soon after two o'clock (as I made it) lamps appeared 
 in the direction of Swanstou, and drew nearer ; and two 
 hackney coaches passed me at a jog-trot, towards the opa- 
 line haze into which the fog had subdued the lights of 
 Edinburgh. I heard one of the drivers curse as he went 
 by, and inferred that my open-handed cousin had shirked 
 the weather and gone comfortably from the Assembly 
 Rooms to Dumbreck's Hotel and bed, leaving the chase to 
 his mercenaries. 
 
 After this you are to believe that I dozed and woke by 
 snatches. I watched the moon descending in her foggy 
 circle ; but I saw also the mulberry face and minatory 
 forefinger of Mr. Romaine, and caught myself explaining 
 to him and Mr. Robbie that their joint proposal to mort- 
 gage my inheritance for a flying broomstick took no ac- 
 count of the working model of the whole Rock and Castle 
 of Edinburgh, which I dragged about by an ankle-chain. 
 Anon I was pelting with Rowley in a claret-coloured chaise 
 through a cloud of robin-redbreasts ; and with that I 
 awoke to the veritable chatter of birds and the white light 
 of dawn upon the hills. 
 
 The truth is, I had come very near to the end of my en- 
 durance. Cold and rain together, supervening in that 
 hour of the spirit's default, may well have made me light- 
 headed ; nor was it easy to distinguish the tooth of self- 
 reproach from that of genuine hunger. Stiff, qualmish, 
 vacant of body, heart and brain, I left my penitential 
 boulder and crawled down to the road. Glancing along it 
 for sight or warning of the runners, I spied, at two gun- 
 shots' distance or less, a milestone with a splash of white 
 upon it — a draggled placard. Abhorrent thought I Did
 
 358 ST. IVES 
 
 it anuoimce the price upon the head of Chprapdivers ? 
 *' At least I will see how they describe him" — this I told 
 myself ; but that which tugged at my feet was the baser 
 fascination of fright. I had thought my spine inured by 
 the night's experiences to anything in the way of cold 
 shivers. I discovered my mistake while ajoproaching that 
 scrap of paper. 
 
 "AERIAL ASCENSION EXTRAORDINARY I I I 
 
 IN 
 THE MONSTRE BALLOON, 
 
 ' LUNARDI ' 
 
 Professor Byeield (By Diploma), the World-Renowned 
 
 Exponent of Aerostatics and Aeronautics, 
 
 Has the honour to inform the Nobility and Gentry of Edinburgh and 
 
 the neighbourhood " 
 
 The shock of it — the sudden descent upon sublimity ac- 
 cording to Byfield — took me in the face. I put up my hands. 
 I broke into elfish laughter, and ended with a sob. Sobs 
 and laughter together shook my fasting body like a leaf ; 
 and I zigzagged across the fields, buffeted this side and 
 that by a mirth as uncontrollable as it was idiotic. Once 
 I pulled up in the middle of a spasm to marvel irrespon- 
 sibly at the sound of my own voice. You may wonder 
 that I had will and wit to be drifted towards Flora's tryst- 
 ing-place. But in truth there was no missing it — the low 
 chine looming through the weather, the line of firs top- 
 ping it, and, towards the west, diminishing like a fish's 
 dorsal fin. I had conned it often enough from the other 
 side ; had looked right across it on the day when she stood 
 beside me on the bastion and pointed out the smoke of 
 Swanston Cottage. Only on this side the fish-tail (so to 
 speak) had a nick in it ; and through that nick ran the 
 path to the old quarry. 
 
 I reached it a little before eight. The quarry lay to the
 
 THE CUTTING OF THE GORDIAN KNOT 359 
 
 left of the path, which passed on and out upon the hill's 
 northern slope. Upon that slope there was no need to 
 show myself. I measured out some fifty yards of the path, 
 and paced it to and fro, idly counting my steps ; for the 
 chill crept back into my bones if I halted for a minute. 
 OiiOe or twice I turned aside into the quarry, and stood 
 there tracing the veins in the hewn rock : then back to my 
 quarterdeck tramp and the study of my watch. Ten 
 minutes past eight ! Fool — to expect her to cheat so many 
 spies. This hunger of mine was becoming serious. . . . 
 
 A stone dislodged — a light footfall on the path — and my 
 heart leapt. It was she ! She came, and earth flowered 
 again, as beneath the feet of the goddess, her namesake. 
 I declare it for a fact that from the moment of her coming 
 the weather began to mend. 
 
 ** Flora I" 
 
 '* My poor Anne ! " 
 
 *' The shawl has been useful," said I. 
 
 "You are starving.'' 
 
 *' That is unpleasantly near the truth." 
 
 **I knew it. See, dear." A shawl of hodden grey 
 covered her head and shoulders, and from beneath it she 
 produced a small basket and held it up. '' The scones will 
 be hot yet, for they went straight from the hearth into the 
 naj)kin." 
 
 She led the way to the quarry. I praised her forethought ; 
 having in those days still to learn that woman's first in- 
 stinct, when a man is dear to her and in trouble, is to feed 
 him. We spread the napkin on a big stone of the quarry, 
 and set out the feast : scones, oat-cake, hard-boiled eggs, 
 a bottle of milk, and a small flask of usquebaugh. Our 
 hands met as we prepared the table. This was our first 
 housekeeping ; the first breakfast of our honeymoon I 
 called it, rallying her. *' Starving I may be ; but starve I
 
 860 ST. IVES 
 
 will in sight of food, unless yon share it," and, *' It es- 
 capes me for the moment, madam, if you take sugar.'* 
 "We leaned to each other across the rock, and our faces 
 touched. Her cold cheek with the rain upon it, and one 
 small damp curl — for many days I had to feed upon the 
 memory of that kiss, and I feed upon it yet. 
 
 " But it beats me how you escaped them,*' said I. 
 
 She laid down the bannock she had been making pre- 
 tence to nibble. " Janet, — that is our dairy girl — lent me 
 her frock and shawl : her shoes too. She goes out to the 
 milking at six, and I took her place. The fog helped me. 
 They are hateful." 
 
 " They are, my dear. Chevenix " 
 
 " I mean these clothes. And I am thinking, too, of the 
 poor cows." 
 
 "The instinct of animals " I lifted my glass. 
 
 *' Let us trust it to find means to attract the notice of two 
 paid detectives and two volunteers." 
 
 " I had rather count on Aunt," said Flora, with one of 
 her rare and adorable smiles, which fleeted as it came. 
 " But, Anne, we must not waste time. They are so many 
 against you, and so near. 0, be serious ! " 
 
 "Now you are talking like Mr. Romaine." 
 
 " For my sake, dear ! " she clasped her hands. I took 
 them in mine across the table, and, unclasping them, 
 kissed the palms. 
 
 "Sweetheart," I said, "before this weather clears " 
 
 " It is clearing." 
 
 " We will give it time. Before this weather clears, I 
 must be across the valley and fetching a circuit for the 
 drovers' road, if you can teach me when to hit it." 
 
 She withdrew one of her hands. It went up to the 
 throat of her bodice, and came forth with my packet of 
 notes.
 
 THE CUTTING OF THE GORDIAN KNOT 361 
 
 ''Good Lord!" said I: "if I hadn't forgotten the 
 
 money I" 
 
 " I think nothing teaches yon/' sighed she. 
 
 She had sewn them tightly in a little bag of yellow oiled 
 silk ; and as I held it, warm from her young bosom, and 
 turned it over in my hand, I saw that it was embroidered 
 in scarlet thread with the one word " Anne " beneath the 
 Lion Eampant of Scotland, in imitation of the poor toy I 
 had carved for hermit seemed, so long ago ! 
 
 "I wear the original," she murmured. 
 
 I crushed the parcel into my breast pocket, and, taking 
 both hands again, fell on my knees before her on the 
 stones. 
 
 '' Flora — my angel ! my heart's bride ! " 
 
 '' Hush ! " She sprang away. Heavy footsteps were 
 coming up the path. I had just time enough to fling Miss 
 Gilchrist's shawl over my head and resume my seat, when 
 a couple of buxom country wives bustled past the mouth 
 of the quarry. They saw us, beyond a doubt : indeed, 
 they stared hard at us, and muttered some comment as 
 they went by and left us gazing at each other. 
 
 *' They took us for a picnic," I whispered. 
 
 "The queer thing," said Flora, "is that they were not 
 surprised. The sight of you " 
 
 " Seen sideways in this shawl, and with my legs hidden 
 by the stone here, I might pass for an elderly female 
 junketer." 
 
 " This is scarcely the hour for a picnic," answered my 
 wise girl, "and decidedly not the weather." 
 
 The sound of another footstep prevented my reply. 
 This time the wayfarer was an old farmer-looking fellow 
 in a shepherd's plaid and bonnet powdered with mist. 
 He halted before us and nodded, leaning rheumatically on 
 his staff.
 
 362 ST. IVES 
 
 "A. coarse moarnin'. Ye'll be from Leadbnrn, I'm 
 thinkin'?" 
 
 *' Put it at Peebles," said I, making shift to pull the 
 shawl close about my damning finery. 
 
 I '' Peebles ! " he said reflectively. " I've ne*er ventured 
 so far as Peebles. I've contemplated it ! But I was none 
 sure whether I would like it when I got there. See here : 
 I recommend ye no to be lazin' ower the meat, gin ye'd 
 drap in for the fun. A'm full late, myseF ? " 
 
 He passed on. "What could it mean ? "We hearkened 
 after his tread. Before it died away, I sprang and caught 
 Flora by the hand. 
 
 *' Listen ! Heavens above ns, what is that?" 
 
 *' It sounds to me like Gow's version of Tlie Caledonian 
 Hunt's Delight, on a brass band." 
 
 Jealous powers ! Had Olympus conspired to ridicule 
 our love, that we must exchange our parting vows to the 
 public strains of 77ie Caledonian Hunt's Delight, in Gow's 
 version and a semitone flat ? For three seconds Flora and 
 I (in the words of a later British bard) looked at each other 
 with a wild surmise, silent. Then she darted to the path, 
 and gazed along it down the hill. 
 
 *' "We must run, Anne. There are more coming ! " 
 
 "We left the scattered relics of breakfast, and, taking 
 hands, scurried along the path northwards. A few yards, 
 and with a sharp turn it led us out of the cutting and upon 
 the open hillside. And here we pulled up together with a 
 gasp. 
 
 Pight beneath ns lay a green meadow, dotted with a 
 crowd of two or three hundred people ; and over the nu- 
 cleus of this gathering, where it condensed into a black 
 swarm, as of bees, there floated, not only the dispiriting 
 music of Tlie Caledonian Ilnnl's Delight, but an object 
 of size and shape suggesting tlie Genie escaped from the
 
 THE CUTTING OF THE GORDIAN KNOT 363 
 
 Fisherman's Bottle as described in M. Galland's ingenious 
 TJiousand and One Nights. It was Byfield's balloon — the 
 monster Lunar di — in process of inflation. 
 
 " Confound Byfield ! " I ejaculated in my haste. 
 
 "WhoisByfield ?'' 
 
 '' An aeronaut, my dear, of bilious humour ; which no 
 doubt accounts for his owning a balloon striped alternately 
 with liver-colour and pale blue, and for his arranging it 
 and a brass band in the very line of my escape. That man 
 dogs me like fate.^' I broke off sharply. " And after all, 
 why not ?'' I cried. 
 
 The next instant I swung round, as Flora uttered a 
 piteous little cry ; and there, behind us, in the outlet of 
 the cutting, stood Major Chevenix and Eonald. 
 
 The boy stepped forward, and, ignoring my bow, laid a 
 hand on Flora's arm. 
 
 " You will come home at once." 
 
 I touched his shoulder. " Surely not," I said, " seeing 
 that the spectacle apparently wants but ten minutes of its 
 climax." 
 
 He swung on me in a passion. '' For God's sake, St. 
 Yves, don't force a quarrel now, of all moments ! Man, 
 haven't you compromised my sister enough ? " 
 
 " It seems to me that, having set a watch on your sister 
 at the suggestion and with the help of a casual Major of 
 Foot, you might in decency reserve the word 'compro- 
 mise ' for home consumption ; and further, that against 
 ^versaries so poorly sensitive to her feelings, your sister 
 may be pardoned for putting her resentment into action." 
 
 *' Major Chevenix is a friend of the family." But the 
 lad blushed as he said it. 
 
 " The family ? " I echoed. " So ? Pray did your aunt 
 invite his help ? No, no, my dear Eonald ; you cannot 
 answer that. And while you play the game of insult to
 
 364 ST. IVES 
 
 your sister, sir, I will see that you eat the discredit of 
 it." 
 
 *' Excuse me," interposed the Major, stepping forward. 
 " As Eonald said, this is not the moment for quarrelling ; 
 and as you observed sir, the climax is not so far off. The 
 runner and his men are even now coming round the hill. 
 We saw them mounting the slope, and (I may add) your 
 cousin's carriage drawn up on the road below. The fact is. 
 Miss Gilchrist has been traced to the hill ; and as it secretly 
 occurred to us that the quarry might be her objective, we 
 arranged to take the ascent on this side. See there ! " he 
 cried, and flung out a hand. 
 
 I looked up. Sure enough, at that instant a grey-coated 
 figure appeared on the summit of the hill, not five hun- 
 dred yards away to the left. He was followed closely by 
 my friend of the moleskin waistcoat ; and the pair came 
 sidling down the slope towards us. 
 
 *' Gentlemen," said I, " it appears that I owe you my 
 thanks. Your stratagem in any case was kindly meant." 
 
 " There was Miss Gilchrist to consider," said the Major 
 stiffly. 
 
 But Ronald cried, " Quick, St. Ives ! Make a dash back 
 by the quarry path. I warrant we don't hinder." 
 
 ''Thank you, my friend: I have another notion. Flora," 
 I said, and took her hand, " here is our parting. The next 
 five minutes will decide much. Be brave, de.arest ; and 
 your thoughts go with me till I come again." 
 
 '' Wherever you go, I'll think of you. Whatever hap- 
 pens, I'll love you. Go, and God defend you, Anne ! " 
 Her breast heaved, as she faced the Major, red and shame- 
 fast, indeed, but gloriously defiant. 
 
 " Quick !" cried she and her brother together. I kissed 
 her hand and sprang down the hill. 
 
 I heard a shout behind me ; and, glancing back, saw my
 
 THE CUTTING OF THE GOEDIAN KNOT 361 
 
 pursuers — three now, with my full-bodied cousin for whip- 
 per-in — change their course as I leapt a brook and headed 
 for the crowded inclosure. A somnolent fat man, bulging, 
 like a feather-bed, on a three-legged stool, dozed at the re- 
 ceipt of custom, with a deal table and a bowl of sixpences 
 before him. I dashed on him with a crown-piece. 
 
 ''No change given," he objected, waking up and fum- 
 bling with a bundle of pink tickets. 
 
 '' None required." I snatched the ticket and ran through 
 the gateway , 
 
 I gave myself time for another look before mingling with 
 the crowd. The moleskin waistcoat was leading now, and 
 had reached the brook ; with red-head a yard or two behind, 
 and my cousin a very bad third, panting — it pleased me to 
 imagine how sorely — across the lower slopes to the east- 
 ward. The janitor leaned against his toll-bar and still 
 followed me with a stare. Doubtless by my uncovered 
 head and gala dress he judged me an all-night reveller — a 
 strayed Bacchanal fooling in the morrow's eye. 
 
 Prompt upon the inference came inspiration. I must 
 win to the centre of the crowd, and a crowd is invariably 
 indulgent to a drunkard. I hung out the glaring sign- 
 board of crapulous glee. Lurching, hiccoughing, jostling, 
 apologising to all and sundry with spacious incoherence, I 
 plunged my way through the sightseers, and they gave me 
 passage with all the good-humour in life. 
 
 I believe that I descended upon that crowd as a godsend, 
 a dancing rivulet of laughter. They needed entertain- 
 ment. A damper, less enthusiastic company never gath- 
 ered to a public show. Though the rain had ceased, and 
 the sun shone, those who possessed umbrellas were not to 
 be coaxed, but held them aloft with a settled air of gloom 
 which defied the lenitives of nature and the spasmodic 
 cajolery of the worst band in Edinburgh. " It'll be near
 
 366 ST. IVES 
 
 full, Jock ? " " It wull." " He'll be startin' in a meenit ?** 
 " Aiblins he wnll." " Wull this be the sixt time ye've seen 
 him V* "I shudna wonder/' It occurred to me that, 
 had we come to bury Byfield, not to praise him, we might 
 have displayed a blither interest. 
 
 Byfield himself, bending from the car beneath his gently 
 swaying canopy of liver-colour and pale blue, directed the 
 proceedings with a mien of saturnine preoccupation. He 
 may have been calculating the receipts. As I squeezed to 
 the front, his underlings were shifting the pipe which con- 
 veyed the hydrogen gas, and the Lunardi strained gently 
 at its ropes. Somebody with a playful thrust sent me 
 staggering into the clear space beneath. 
 
 And here a voice hailed and fetched me up with around 
 turn. 
 
 " Ducie, by all that's friendly ! Playmate of my youth 
 and prop of my declining years, how goes it ? " 
 
 It was the egregious Dalmahoy. He clung and steadied 
 himself by one of the dozen ropes binding the car to earth ; 
 and with an air of doing it all by his unaided cleverness — 
 an air so indescribably, so majestically drunken, that I 
 could have blushed for the poor expedients v/hich had car- 
 ried me through the throng. 
 
 " You'll excuse me if I don't let go. Fact is, we've been 
 keeping it up a bit all night. Byfield leaves us — to ex- 
 patiate in realms untrodden by the foot of man — 
 
 " The feathered tribes on pinions cleave the air ; 
 Not so the mackerel, and, still less, the bear." 
 
 But Byfield does it — Byfield in his Monster Foolardi. One 
 stroke of this knife (always supposing I miss my own hand), 
 and the rope is severed : our common friend scales the 
 empyrean. But he'll come back — oh, never doubt, he'll
 
 THE CUTTING OF THE GORDIAN KNOT 367 
 
 come back ! — and begin the dam business over again. 
 Tha's the law 'gravity 'cording to Byfield." 
 
 Mr. Dalmahoy concluded inconsequently with a vocal 
 imitation of a post-horn ; and, looking up, I saw the head 
 and shoulders of Byfield projected over the rim of the 
 car. 
 
 He drew the natural inference from my dress and de- 
 meanour, and groaned aloud. 
 
 " 0, go away — get out of it, Ducie ! Isn't one natural 
 born ass enough for me to deal with ? You fellows are 
 guying the whole show I" 
 
 " Byfield ! " I called up eagerly, " I'm not drunk. Eeach 
 me down a ladder, quick ! A hundred guineas if you'll 
 take me with you ! " I saw over the crowd, not ten deep 
 behind me, the red head of the man in grey. 
 
 ** That proves it," said Byfield. " Go away ; or at least 
 keep quiet. I'm going to make a speech." He cleared his 
 throat. " Ladies and gentlemen " 
 
 I held up my packet of notes. " Here's the money,— 
 for pity's sake, man ! There are bailiffs after me, in the 
 crowd ! " 
 
 " the spectacle which yon have honoured with your 
 
 enlightened patronage 1 tell you I can't." He cast a 
 
 glance behind him into the car " with your enlightened 
 
 patronage, needs but few words of introduction or com- 
 mendation." 
 
 '' Hear, hear ! " from Dalmahoy. 
 
 **Your attendance proves the sincerity of your inter- 
 est " 
 
 I spread out the notes under his eyes. He blinked, but 
 resolutely lifted his voice. 
 
 " The spectacle of a solitary voyager " 
 
 " Two hundred ! " I called up. 
 
 '*The spectacle of two hundred solitary yoyagers—
 
 368 ST. IV E3 
 
 cradled m the brain of a Montgolfier and a Charles 
 stop it ! Fm no public speaker ! How the deuce- 
 There was a lurch and a heave in the crowd, ** Pitch 
 oot the drunken loon ! " cried a voice. On top of it I heard 
 my cousin bawling for a clear passage. With the viil of 
 my eye I caught a glimpse of his plethoric perspiring 
 face as he came charging past the barrels of the hydrogen- 
 apparatus ; and, with that, Byfield had shaken down a rope- 
 ladder and fixed it, and I was scrambling up like a cat. 
 " Cut the ropes ! " 
 
 *' Stop him ! " my cousin bawled. ** Stop the balloon I 
 It's Champdivers, the murderer ! '' 
 
 *' Cut the ropes \" vociferated Byfield ; and to my in- 
 finite relief I saw that Dalmahoy was doing his best. A 
 hand clutched at my heel. I let out viciously, amid a roar 
 of the crowd ; felt the kick reach and rattle home on 
 somebody's teeth ; and, as the crowd made a rush and the 
 balloon swayed and shot upwards, heaved myself over the 
 rim into the car. 
 
 Kecovering myself on the instant, I bent over. I had on 
 my tongue a neat farewell for Alain, but the sight of a hun- 
 dred upturned and contorted faces silenced me as a blow 
 might. There had lain my real peril, in the sudden wild- 
 beast rage now suddenly baffled. I read it, as clear as 
 print, and sickened. Nor was Alain in a posture to listen. 
 My kick had sent Moleskin flying on top of him ; and borne 
 to earth, prone beneath the superincumbent bulk of his 
 retainer he lay with hands outspread like a swimmer's 
 and nose buried in the plashy soil.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 "THE INCOMPLETE AEKONAUTS" 
 
 All this I took in at a glance ; I dare say in three sec- 
 onds or less. The hnbbub beneath us dropped to a low, 
 rumbling bass. Suddenly a woman's scream divided it — 
 one high-pitched penetrating scream, followed by silence. 
 And then as a pack of hounds will start into cry, voice after 
 voice caught up the scream and reduplicated it until the 
 whole enclosure rang with alarm. 
 
 "Hullo!" Byfield called to me: "what the deuce is 
 happening now ?" and ran to his side of the car. " Good 
 Lord, it's Dalmahoy ! " 
 
 It was. Beneath us, at the tail of a depending rope, 
 that unhappy lunatic dangled between earth and sky. He 
 had been the first to cut the tether ; and, having severed 
 it below his grasp, had held on while the others cut loose, 
 taking even the asinine precaution to loop the end twice 
 round his wrist. Of course the upward surge of the bal- 
 loon had heaved him off his feet, and his muddled instinct 
 did the rest. Clutching now with both hands, he was 
 borne aloft like a lamb from the flock. 
 
 So we reasoned afterwards. " The grapnel ! " gasped 
 Byfield ; for Dalmahoy's rope was fastened beneath the 
 floor of the car, and not to be reached by us. We fumbled 
 to cast the grapnel loose, and shouted down together : 
 
 " For God's sake hold on ! Catch the anchor when it 
 comes ! You'll break your neck if you drop ! " 
 24 369
 
 370 ST. IVES 
 
 He swung into sight ^gain beyond the edge of the floor, 
 and uplifted a strained, white face. 
 
 We cast loose the grapnel, lowered it and jerked it tow- 
 ards him. He swung past it like a pendulum, caught it 
 with one hand and missed ; came flying back on the reced- 
 ing curve and missed again. At the third attempt he 
 blundered right against it, and flung an arm over one of 
 the flukes, next a leg, and in a trice we were hauling up, 
 hand over hand. 
 
 We dragged him inboard. He was pale but undefeatedly 
 voluble. 
 
 *'Must apologise to you fellows, really. Dam silly, 
 clumsy kind of thing to do ; might have been awkward too. 
 Thank you, Byfield my boy, I will : two fingers only — a 
 harmless steadier. '* 
 
 He took the flask and was lifting it. But his jaw 
 dropped and his hand hung arrested. 
 
 *' He's going to faint,'' I cried. " The strain " 
 
 ** Strain on your grandmother, Ducie ! What's tJiai ?'* 
 
 He was staring past my shoulder, and on the instant I 
 was aware of a voice — not the aeronaut's — speaking be- 
 hind me and, as it were, out of the clouds, — 
 
 " I take ye to witness. Mister Byfield " 
 
 Consider if you please. For six days I had been oscil- 
 lating within a pretty complete circumference of alarms. 
 It is small blame to me, I hope, that with my nerve on so 
 nice a pivot I quivered and swung to this new apprehen- 
 sion like a needle in a compass box. 
 
 On the floor of the car, at my feet, lay a heap of plaid 
 rugs and overcoats, from which, successively and painfully, 
 there emerged first a hand clutching a rusty beaver hat, 
 next a mildly indignant face in spectacles, and finally the 
 rearward of a very small man in a seedy suit of black. He 
 rose on his knees, his finger-tips resting on the floor, and
 
 "the incomplete aeronauts" 371 
 
 contemplated the aeronaut oyer his glasses with a world of 
 reproach. 
 
 " I take ye to witness, Mr. Byfield ! " 
 
 Byfield mopped a perspiring brow. 
 
 " My dear sir," he stammered, " all a mistake — no fault 
 of mine — explain presently " ; then, as one catching at an 
 inspiration, "Allow me to introduce you. Mr. Dalmahoy, 
 Mr. " 
 
 " My name is Sheepshanks,^' said the little man stiffly. 
 *' But you'll excuse me " 
 
 Mr. Dalmahoy interrupted with a playful cat-call. 
 
 *'Hear, hear! Silence! * His name is Sheepshanks. 
 On the Grampian Hills his father kept his flocks — a thou- 
 sand sheep ' — and, I make no doubt, shanks in proportion. 
 Excuse you, Sheepshanks ? My dear sir ! At this alti- 
 tude one shank was more than we had a right to expect ; 
 the plural multiplies the obligation." Keeping a tight 
 hold on his hysteria, Dalmahoy steadied himself by a rope 
 and bowed. 
 
 ''And I, sir," — as Mr. Sheepshanks' thoroughly bewil- 
 dered gaze travelled around and met mine — "I, sir, am 
 the Vicomte Anne de Keroual de St. Yves, at your service. 
 I haven't a notion how or why you come to be here ; but 
 you seem likely to be an acquisition. On my part," I con- 
 tinued, as there leapt into my mind the stanza I had 
 vainly tried to recover in Mrs. McRankine's sitting-room, 
 *'l have the honour to refer you to the inimitable Roman 
 Flaccus — 
 
 ' Virtus, recludens immeritis mori 
 Coelum negata temptat iter via, 
 Coetusque vulgares et udam 
 Spernit humum fugiente penna.* 
 
 —you have the Latin, sir ? " 
 
 "Kot a word." He subsided upon the j^ile of rugs and
 
 372 ^. IVES 
 
 spread out his hands in protest. " I tak' ye to witness, 
 Mr. Byfield!" 
 
 " Then in a minute or so I will do myself the pleasure 
 of construing," said I, and turned to scan the earth we 
 were leaving — I had not guessed how rapidly. 
 
 We contemplated it from the height of six hundred feet 
 — or so Byfield asserted after consulting his barometer. 
 He added that this was a mere nothing ; the wonder was 
 the balloon had risen at all with one-half of the total folly 
 of Edinburgh clinging to the car. I passed the possible in- 
 accuracy and certain ill-temper of this calculation. He had 
 (he explained) made jettison of at least a hundredweight 
 of sand ballast. I could only hope it had fallen on my 
 cousin. To me, six hundred feet appeared a very respect- 
 able eminence. And the view was ravishing. 
 
 The Lunardi mounting through a stagnant calm in a 
 line almost vertical, had pierced the morning mists, and 
 now swam emancipated in a heaven of exquisite blue. Be- 
 low us, by some trick of eyesight, the country had grown 
 concave, its horizons curving up like the rim of a shallow 
 bowl — a bowl heaped, in point of fact, with sea-fog, but to 
 our eyes with a froth delicate and dazzling as a whipped 
 syllabub of snow. Upon it the travelling shadow of the 
 balloon became no shadow but a stain ; an amethyst (you 
 might call it) purged of all grosser properties than colour 
 and lucency. At times thrilled by no perceptible wind, 
 raiher by the pulse of the sun's rays, the froth shook and 
 parted ; and then behold, deep in the crevasses, vignetted 
 and shining, an acre or two of the earth of man's business 
 and fret — tilled slopes of the Lothians, ships dotted on the 
 Forth, the capital like a hive that some child had smoked 
 — the ear of fancy could almost hear it buzzing. 
 
 I snatched the glass from Byfield, and brought it to 
 focus upon one of these peepshow rifts : and lo ! at the
 
 •*THE INCOMPLETE AERONAUTS'* 373 
 
 foot of the shaft, imaged, as it were, far down in aluminous 
 well, a green hillside and three figures standing. A white 
 speck fluttered ; and fluttered until the rift closed again. 
 Flora's handkerchief ! Blessings on the brave hand that 
 waved it ! — at a moment when (as I have since heard and i 
 knew without need of hearing) her heart was down in her 
 shoes, or, to speak accurately, in the milkmaid Janet's. 
 Singular in many things, she was at one with the rest of 
 her sex in its native and incurable distrust of man's inven- 
 tions. 
 
 I am bound to say that my own faith in, aerostatics wag 
 a plant — a sensitive plant — of extremely tender growth. 
 Either I failed, a while back, in painting the emotions of 
 my descent of the '' Devil's Elbow," or the reader knows 
 that I am a chicken-hearted fellow about a height. I 
 make him a present of the admission. Set me on a plane 
 superficies, and I will jog with all the insouciance of a 
 rolling stone ; toss me in air and, with the stone in the 
 child's adage, I am in the hands of the devil. Even 
 to the qualified instability of a sea-going ship I have 
 ever committed myself with resignation rather than confi- 
 dence. 
 
 But to my unspeakable relief the Lunar di floated up- 
 wards, and continued to float, almost without a tremor. 
 Only by reading the barometer, or by casting scraps of 
 paper overboard, could we tell that the machine moved at 
 all. Now and again we revolved slowly : so Byfield's com- 
 pass informed us, but for ourselves we had never guessed 
 it. Of dizziness I felt no longer a symptom, for the suffi- 
 cient reason that the provocatives were nowhere at hand. 
 "We were the only point in space, without possibility of 
 comparison with another. We were made one with the 
 clean silences receiving us ; and speaking only for the Vi- 
 comte Anne de St. Yves, I dare assert that for five min-
 
 874 ST. IVES 
 
 ntes a newly bathed infant had not been less conscious of 
 original sin. 
 
 " But look here, you know '* — it was Byfield at my 
 elbow — " I'm a isublic character, by George ; and this 
 puts me in a devilish awkward position/' 
 
 '' So it does," I agreed. " You proclaimed yourself a sol- 
 itary voyager ; and here, to the naked eye, are four of us.'* 
 
 *' And pray how can I help that ? If, at the last mo- 
 ment, a couple of lunatics come rusliing in " 
 
 ** They still leave Sheepshanks to be accounted for." 
 Byfield began to irritate me. I turned to the stowaway, 
 *' Perhaps," said I, "' Mr. Sheepshanks will explain." 
 
 ''I paid in advance," Mr. Sheepshanks began, eager to 
 seize the opening presented. *' The fact is, I'm a married 
 man." 
 
 " Already at two points you have the advantage of us. 
 Proceed, sir ! " 
 
 *'You were good enough just now to give me yout 
 name, Mr. " 
 
 ** The Vicomte Anne de Keroual de St. Yves." 
 
 "It is a somewhat difficult name to remember." 
 
 ** If that be all, sir, within two minutes you shall have 
 a memoria teclinica prepared for use during the voyage." 
 
 Mr. Sheepshanks harked back. ** I am a married man, 
 and — d'ye see ? — Mrs. Sheepshanks, as you might say, 
 has no sympathy with ballooning. She was a Guthrie 
 of Dumfries." 
 
 ** Wliich accounts for it, to be sure," said I. 
 
 **To me, sir, on the contrary, aerostatics have long 
 
 been an alluring study. I might even, Mr. , I might 
 
 even, I say, term it the passion of my life." His mild 
 eyes shone behind their glasses. " I remember Vincent 
 Lunardi, sir. I was present in Heriot's Gardens when he 
 made an ascension there in October '85. He came down
 
 "the incomplete aeronauts" 375 
 
 at Cupar. Tlie Society of Gentleman Golfers at Cupar 
 presented him with an address ; and at Edinburgh he was 
 admitted Knight Companion of the Beggar's Benison, a 
 social company, or (as I may say) crew, since defunct. A 
 thin-faced man, sir. He wore a peculiar bonnet, if I 
 may use the expression, very much cocked up behind. The 
 shape became fashionable. He once pawned his watch 
 with me, sir ; that being my profession. I regret to say 
 he redeemed it subsequently ; otherwise I might have the 
 pleasure of showing it to you. yes, the theory of 
 ballooning has long been a passion with me. But in 
 deference to Mrs. Sheepshanks I have abstained from the 
 actual practice — until to-day. To tell you the truth, my 
 wife believes me to be brushing off the cobwebs in the 
 Kyles of Bute.'' 
 
 "Are there any cobwebs in the Kyles of Bute ? " asked 
 Dalmahoy, in a tone unnaturally calm. 
 
 "A figure of speech, sir — as one might say, holiday- 
 keeping there. I paid Mr. Byfield five pounds in advance. 
 I have his receipt. And the stipulation was that I should 
 be concealed in the car and make the ascension with him 
 alone.'' 
 
 '' Are we then to take it, sir, that our company offends 
 you ?" 1 demanded. 
 
 He made haste to disclaim. *' Not at all : decidedly not 
 in the least. But the chances were for far less agreeable 
 associates." I nodded. ** And a bargain's a bargain," he 
 wound up. 
 
 **So it is,'* said I. ** Byfield, hand Mr. Sheepshanks 
 back his five pounds.'* 
 
 *' 0, come now ! " the aeronaut objected. '' And who 
 may you be to be ordering a man about ?" 
 
 ** I believe I have already answered that question twied 
 In your hearing.**
 
 376 ST. IVES 
 
 "Mosha the Viscount Thingamy de Something-or- 
 other ? I dare say ! " 
 
 " Have you any objection ? " 
 
 ''Not the smallest. For all I care, you are Robert 
 Burns, or Napoleon Buonaparte, or anything from the 
 Mother of the Gracchi to Balaam's Ass. But I knew you 
 first as Mr. Ducie ; and you may take it that I'm Mr. 
 Don't see." He reached up a hand towards the valve- 
 string. 
 
 " What are yau proposing to do ?'* 
 
 "To descend." 
 
 "What ? — back to the enclosure ?" 
 
 " Scarcely that, seeing that we have struck a northerly 
 current, and are travelling at the rate of thirty miles an 
 hour, perhaps. That's Broad Law to the south of us, as I 
 make it out." 
 
 *' But why descend at all ? " 
 
 " Because it sticks in my head that some one in the 
 crowd called you by a name that wasn't Ducie ; and by a 
 title, for that matter, which didn't sound like " Viscount." 
 I took it at the time for a constable's trick ; but I begin to 
 have my strong doubts." 
 
 The fellow was dangerous. I stooped nonchalantly, on 
 pretence of picking up a plaid ; for the air had turned bit- 
 terly cold of a sudden. 
 
 " Mr. Byfield, a word in your private ear, if you will." 
 
 ** As you please," said he, dropping the valve-string. 
 
 We leaned together over the breastwork of the car. " If 
 I mistake not," I said, speaking low, " the name was 
 Champdivers." 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " The gentleman who raised that foolish but infernally 
 risky cry was my own cousin, the Viscount de St. Yves. I 
 give you my word of honour to that." Observing that
 
 "THE INCOMPLETE AERONACTS " 377 
 
 this staggered him, I added, mighty slyly, " I suppose it 
 doesn't occur to you now that the whole affair was a game 
 for a friendly wager ? " 
 
 " No," he answered, brutally, " it doesn't. And what's 
 more, it won't go down." 
 
 '' In that respect," said I, with a sudden change of key, 
 " it resembles your balloon. But I admire the obstinacy 
 of your suspicions ; since, as a matter of fact, I am 
 Champdivers." 
 
 " The mur " 
 
 *' Certainly not. I killed the man in fair duel." 
 
 **Ha!" He eyed me with sour distrust. "That is 
 what you have to prove." 
 
 " Man alive, you don't expect me to demonstrate it up 
 here, by the simple apparatus of ballooning ! " 
 
 "There is no talk of 'up here,'" said he, and reached 
 for the valve-string. 
 
 " Say ' down there ' then. Down there it is no business 
 of the accused to prove his innocence. By what I have 
 heard of the law, English or Scotch, the boot is on the 
 other leg. But I'll tell you what I can prove. I can 
 prove, sir, that I have been a deal in your company of 
 late ; that I supped with you and Mr. Dalmahoy no longer 
 ago than Wednesday. You may put it that we three are 
 here together again by accident ; that you never sus- 
 pected me ; that my invasion of your machine was a com- 
 plete surprise to you, and, so far as you were concerned, 
 wholly fortuitous. But ask yourself what any intelligent 
 jury is likely to make of that cock-and-bull story." Mr. 
 Byfield was visibly shaken. "Add to this," I proceeded, 
 " that you have to explain Sheepshanks ; to confess that 
 you gulled the public by advertising a lonely ascension, 
 and haranguing a befooled multitude to the same intent, 
 when, all the time, you had a companion concealed in the
 
 378 ST. IVES 
 
 car. 'A public character' yon call yourself! My word, 
 sir ! there'll be no mistake about it this time.'' 
 
 I paused, took breath, and shook a finger at him : — 
 
 " Now just you listen to me, Mr. Byfield. Pull that 
 string and a sadly discredited aeronaut descends upon the 
 least charitable of worlds. Why, sir, in any case your 
 game in Edinburgh is up. The public is dog-tired of you 
 and your ascensions, as any observant child in to-day's 
 crowd could have told you. The truth was there staring 
 you in the face ; and next time even your purblind vanity 
 must recognise it. Consider ; I offered you two hundred 
 guineas for the convenience of your balloon. I now double 
 that offer on condition that I become its owner during this 
 trip, and that you manipulate it as I wish. Here are the 
 notes ; and out of the total you will refund five pounds to 
 Mr. Sheepshanks." 
 
 Byfield's complexion had grown streaky as his balloon ; 
 and with colours not so very dissimilar. I had stabbed 
 upon his vital self-conceit, and the man was really hurt. 
 
 " You must give me time," he stammered. 
 
 *' By all means." I knew he was beaten. But only the 
 poorness of my case excused me, and I had no affection for 
 the weapons used. I turned with relief to the others. 
 Dalmahoy was seated on the floor of the car, and helping 
 Mr. Sheepshanks to unpack a carpet bag. 
 
 " This will be whiskey," the little pawnbroker an- 
 nounced : " three bottles. My wife said, ' Surely, Elshan- 
 der, ye'll find whiskey where ye're gaun.' * No doubt I 
 will,' said I, *but I'm not very confident of its quality ; 
 and it's a far step.' My itinerary, Mr. Dalmahoy, was 
 planned from Greenock to the Kyles of Bute and back, 
 and thence coastwise to Saltcoats and the land of Burns, I 
 told her, if she had anything to communicate, to address 
 her letter to the care of the postmaster, Ayr — ha, ha ! "
 
 "the incomplete aekonauts" 379 
 
 He broke off and gazed reproachfully into Dalmahoy's im- 
 passive face. "Ayr — air/' he explained : "a little play 
 upon words." 
 
 " Skye would have been better/' suggested Dalmahoy, 
 without moving an eyelid. 
 
 ''Skye? Dear me — capital, capital! Only you see/' 
 he urged, ''she wouldn't expect me to be in Skye/' 
 
 A minute later he drew me aside. " Excellent company 
 your friend is, sir ; most gentlemanly manners ; but at 
 times, if I may say so, not very gleg." 
 
 My hands by this time were numb with cold. We had 
 been ascending steadily, and Byfield's English thermom- 
 eter stood at thirteen degrees. I borrowed from the heap 
 a thicker overcoat, in the pocket of which I was lucky 
 enough to find a pair of furred gloves ; and leaned over 
 for another look below, still with a corner of my eye for 
 the aeronaut, who stood biting his nails, as far from me as 
 the car allowed. 
 
 The sea-fog had vanished, and the south of Scotland lay 
 spread beneath us from sea to sea, like a map in monotint. 
 Nay, yonder was England, with the Solway cleaving the 
 coast — a broad, bright spearhead, slightly bent at the tip 
 — and the fells of Cumberland beyond, mere hummocks 
 on the horizon ; all else flat as a board or as the bottom of 
 a saucer. White threads of high-road connected town to 
 town : the intervening hills had fallen down, and the 
 towns, as if in fright, had shrunk into themselves, con- 
 tracting their suburbs as a snail his horns. The old poet 
 was right who said that Olympians had a delicate view. 
 The lace-makers of Valenciennes might have had the trac- 
 ing of those towns and high-roads ; those knots of guipure 
 and ligatures of finest reseau-wovk. And when I consid- 
 ered that what I looked down on — this, with its arteries 
 and nodules of public traffic — was a nation ; that each
 
 380 ST. IVES 
 
 silent nodule held some thousands of men, each man 
 moderately ready to die in defence of his shopboard and 
 hen-roost ; it came into my mind that my Emperor's em- 
 blem was the bee, and this Britain the s]3ider's web, sure 
 enough. 
 
 Byfield came across and stood at my elbow. 
 
 " Mr. Ducie, I have considered your offer, and accept 
 it. It's a curst position " 
 
 " For a public character," I put in affably. 
 
 " Don't, sir ! I beg that you don't. Your words just 
 now made me suffer a good deal ; the more, that I per- 
 ceive a part of them to be true. An aeronaut, sir, has 
 ambition — how can he help it ? The public, the news- 
 papers feed it for a while ; they fete, and flatter, and ap- 
 plaud him. But in its heart the public ranks him with 
 the mountebank, and reserves the right to drop him when 
 tired of his tricks. Is it wonderful that he forgets this 
 sometimes ? For in his own thoughts he is not a moun- 
 tebank — no, by God, he is not !" 
 
 The man spoke with genuine passion. I held out my 
 hand. 
 
 " Mr. Byfield, my words were brutal. I beg you will 
 allow me to take them back." 
 
 He shook his head. **They were true, sir ; partly true, 
 that is." 
 
 ** I am not so sure. A balloon, as you hint and I begin 
 to discover, may alter the perspective of a man's ambitions. 
 Here are the notes ; and on the top of them I give you my 
 word that you are not abetting a criminal. How long 
 should the Lunardi be able to maintain itself in air ? " 
 
 "I have never tried it ; but I calculate on twenty hours 
 —say twenty-four at a pinch." 
 
 *' We will test it. The current, I see, is still north-east| 
 or from that to north-by-east. And our height ?^*
 
 "the incomplete aeronauts" 381 
 
 He consulted the barometer. " Something under three 
 miles." 
 
 Dalmahoy heard and whooped. '' Hi ! you fellows, 
 come to lunch ! Sandwiches, shortbread, and cleanest 
 Glenlivet — Elshander's Feast : — 
 
 ' Let old Timotheus yield the prize, 
 Or both divide the crown ; 
 He raised a mortal to the skies ' 
 
 Sheepshanks provided the whiskey. Kise, Elshander — 
 observe that you have no worlds left to conquer, and hav- 
 ing shed the perfunctory tear, pass the corkscrew. Come 
 along, Ducie ; come my Dgedalian boy ; if you are not 
 hungry, I am, and so is — Sheepshanks — What the dickens 
 do you mean by consorting with a singular verb ? Ver^ 
 bum cnm nominativo — I should say, so are sheepshanks." 
 
 Byfield produced from one of the lockers a pork pie and 
 a bottle of sherry (the viaticum in choice and assortment 
 almost explained the man) and we sat down to the repast. 
 Dalmahoy's tongne ran like a brook. He addressed Mr. 
 Sheepshanks with light-hearted impartiality as Philip's 
 royal son, as the Man of Ross, as the divine Clarinda. He 
 elected him Professor of Marital Diplomacy to the Univer- 
 sity of Cramond. He passed the bottle and called on him 
 for a toast, a song — " Oblige me. Sheepshanks, by making 
 the welkin ring.''* Mr. Sheepshanks beamed, and gave us 
 a sentiment instead. The little man was enjoying himself 
 amazingly. *' Fund of spirits your friend has, to be sure, 
 sir, quite a fund." 
 
 Either my own spirits were running low or the bitter 
 cold had congealed them. I was conscious of my thin 
 ball suit, and moreover of a masterful desire of sleep. I 
 felt no inclination for food, but drained half a tumblerful 
 of the Sheepshanks whiskey, and crawled beneath the pile
 
 383 ST. IVES 
 
 of plaids. Byfield considerately helped me to arrange 
 tbem. He may or may not have caught some accent of 
 uncertainty in my thanks ; at any rate he thought fit to 
 add the assurance, *'You may trust me, Mr. Ducie." I 
 saw that I could and began almost to like the fellow. • 
 
 In this jiosture I dozed through the afternoon. In 
 dreams I heard Dalmahoy and Sheepshanks lifting their 
 voices in amoebaean song, and became languidly aware 
 that they were growing uproarious. I heard Byfield ex- 
 postolating, apparently in vain ; for I awoke next to find 
 that Sheepshanks had stumbled over me while illustrating, 
 with an empty bottle, the motions of tossing the caber. 
 *' Old Hieland sports,'^ explained Dalmahoy, wiping tears 
 of vain laughter : " his mother's uncle was out in the 
 Forty-five. Sorry to wake you, Ducie : below, my babe ! " 
 It did not occur to me to smoke danger in this tomfoolery. 
 I turned over and dozed again. 
 
 It seemed but a minute later that a buzzing in my ears 
 awoke me ; with a stab of pain as though my temples were 
 being split with a wedge. On the instant I heard my 
 name cried aloud, and sat up ; to find myself blinking in a 
 broad flood of moonlight over against the agitated face of 
 Dalmahoy. 
 
 " Byfield " I began. 
 
 Dalmahoy pointed. The aeronaut lay at my feet, col- 
 lap?,ed like some monstrous marionette, with legs and arms 
 a-splay. Across liis legs, with head propped against a 
 locker, reclined Sheepshanks, and gazed upwards w'.th an 
 approving smile. ** Awkward business," explained Dal- 
 mahoy, between gasps. "Sheepshanks unmanageable; 
 can't carry his liquor like a gentleman : thonght it funny 
 both of us pitch out ballast. Byfield lost his temper, 
 worst thing in the world. One thing I pride myself, 'men- 
 able to reason. No holding Shee^jshanks ; Byfield got him
 
 •*THE INCOMPLETE AEIiONAUTS " 383 
 
 down ; too late : faint. Sheepshanks wants ring for *shist- 
 ance : pnlls string : breaks. When the string breaks Lu- 
 nardi won^t fall — tha's the devil of it." 
 
 " With my tol-de-rol/' Mr. Sheepshanks murmnred. 
 ** Pretty — very pretty." 
 
 I cast a look aloft. The Lunar di was transformed : every 
 inch of it frosted as with silver. All the ropes and cords 
 ran with silver too, or liquid mercury. And in the midst 
 of this sparkling cage, a little below the hoop, and five feet 
 at least above reach, dangled the broken valve-string. 
 
 *' Well," I said, ''you have made a handsome mess of it. 
 Pass me the broken end, and be good enough not to lose 
 your head." 
 
 " I wish I could," he groaned, pressing it between his 
 palms. " My dear sir, Fm not frightened, if that is your 
 meaning." 
 
 I was, and horribly. But the thing had to be done. The 
 reader will perhaps forgive me for touching shyly on the 
 next two or three minutes, which still recur on the smallest 
 provocation and play bogey with my dreams. To balance 
 on the edge of night, quaking, gripping a frozen rope ; to 
 climb and feel the pit of one's stomach slipping like a 
 bucket in a fathomless well — I suppose the intolerable 
 pains in my head spurred me to the attempt — these and the 
 urgent shortness of my breathing — much as a toothache 
 will drive a man up to the dentist's chair. I knotted the 
 broken ends of the valve-string and slid back into the car : 
 then tugged the valve open, while with my disengaged arm 
 I wiped the sweat from my forehead. It froze upon the 
 coat-cuff. 
 
 In a minute or so the drumming in my ears grew less 
 violent. Dalmahoy bent over the aeronaut, who was bleed- 
 ing at the nose, and now began to breathe stertorously. 
 Sheepshanks had fallen into placid slumber. I kept the
 
 384 ST. IVES 
 
 valve open until we descended into a stratum of fog — 
 from which, no doubt, the Limardi had lately risen : the 
 moisture collected here would account for its congekted 
 coat of silver. By-and-bye, still without rising, we were 
 quit of the fog, and the moon swept the hollow beneath us, 
 rescuing solitary scraps and sheets of water and letting 
 them slip again like imprehensible ghosts. Small fiery 
 eyes opened and shut on us : cressets of flame on factory 
 chimneys, more and more frequent. I studied the com- 
 pass. Our course lay south by west. But our where- 
 abouts ? Dalmahoy, being appealed to, suggested Glasgow : 
 and thenceforward I let him alone. Byfield snored on. 
 
 I pulled out my Avatcli, which I had forgotten to wind ; 
 and found it run down. The hands stood at twenty min- 
 utes past four. Daylight, then, could not be far off. 
 Eighteen hours — say twenty : and Byfield had guessed our 
 rate at one time to be thirty miles an hour. Five hundred 
 miles — 
 
 A line of silver ahead : a ribbon drawn taut across the 
 night, clean-edged, broadening — the sea ! In a minute or 
 two I caught the murmur of the coast. " Five hundred 
 miles," I began to reckon again, and a holy calm dawned 
 on me as the Lunardi swept high over the fringing surf, 
 and its voice faded back with the glimmer of a white-washed 
 fishing haven. 
 
 I roused Dalmahoy and pointed. " The seal" 
 
 " Looks like it. Which, I wonder 2" 
 
 *' The English Channel, man.'' 
 
 « I say — are you sure ? " 
 
 *'Eh V exclaimed Byfield, waking up and coming for- 
 ward with a stagger. 
 
 *' The English Channel.'' 
 
 " The French fiddlestick," said he with equal prompt- 
 ness.
 
 ** THE INCOMPLETE AERONAUTS " 385 
 
 " 0, have it as you please ! " I retorted. It was not worth 
 arguing with the man. 
 
 **What isthehour ?" 
 
 I told him that my watch had run down. His had done 
 the same. Dalmahoy did not carry one. We searched the 
 still prostrate Sheepshanks : his had stopped at ten min- 
 utes to four. Byfield replaced it and underlined his dis- 
 gust with a kick. 
 
 "A nice lot/' he ejaculated. "I owe you my thanks, 
 Mr. Ducie, all the same. It was touch and go with us, and 
 my head's none the better for it." 
 
 " But I say," expostulated Dalmahoy. " France ! This 
 is getting past a joke." 
 
 "So you are really beginning to discover that, are 
 you?" 
 
 Byfield stood, holding by a rope, and studied the dark- 
 ness ahead. Beside him I hugged my conviction — hour 
 after hour, it seemed : and still the dawn did not come. 
 
 He turned at length. 
 
 " I see a coast line to the south of us. This will be the 
 Bristol Channel, and the balloon is sinking. Pitch out 
 some ballast, if these idiots have left any." 
 
 I found a couple of sandbags and emptied them over- 
 board. The coast, as a matter of fact, was close at hand. 
 But the LunartU rose in time to clear the cliff barrier 
 by some hundreds of feet. A wild sea ran on it : of its 
 surf, as of a grey and agonising face, we caught one glimpse 
 as we hurled high and clear over the roar : and, a minute 
 later, to our infinite dismay were actually skimming the 
 surface of a black hillside. " Hold on ! " screamed By- 
 field, and I had barely time to tighten my grip when — crash ! 
 the car struck the turf and pitched us together in a heap 
 on the floor. Bump ! the next blow shook us like peas itt 
 a bladder. I drew my legs up and waited for the third. 
 25
 
 386 ST. IVES 
 
 None cama The car gyrated madJy and swung slowly 
 back to equilibrium. We picked ourselves up, tossed rugs, 
 coats, instruments, promiscuously overboard, and mounted 
 again. The chine of the tall hill, our stumbling-block, fel) 
 back and was lost, and we swept forward into formless 
 shad 0,7. 
 
 '' Confound it I" said Byfield, " the land can't be unin- 
 habited!'' 
 
 It was, for aught we could see. Not a light showed any- 
 where ; and to make things worse the moon had abandoned 
 ns. For one good hour we swept through chaos to the 
 tuneless lamentations of Sheepshanks, who declared that 
 his collar-bone was broken. 
 
 Then Dalmahoy flung a hand upwards. Night lay like 
 a sack around and below us : but right aloft, at the zenith, 
 day was trembling. Slowly established, it spread and de- 
 scended upon us until it touched a distant verge of hills, 
 and these, cut by the rim of the rising sun, flowed sud- 
 denly with streams of crimson. 
 
 " Over with the grapnel ! " Byfield sprang to the valve- 
 string and pulled ; and the featureless earth rushed up 
 towards us. 
 
 The sunlight through which we were falling had not 
 touched it yet. It leaped on us, drenched in shadow, like 
 some incalculable beast from its covert : a land sliaggy with 
 woods and coppices. Between the woods a desolate river 
 glimmered. A colony of herons rose from the tree-tops 
 beneath us and flew squawking for the farther shore. 
 
 "This won't do," said Byfield, and shut the escape. *' We 
 must win clear of these woods. IIullo ! " Ahead of us the 
 river widened abruptly into a shining estuary, populous 
 with anchored shipping. Tall hills flanked it, and in the 
 curve of the westernmost hill a grey town rose from the 
 waterside : its terraces climbing tier upon tier, like seats
 
 "the incomplete aeronauts" 387 
 
 in an amphitheatre ; its chimneys lifting their smoke oyer 
 against the dawn. The tiers curved away southward to a 
 round castle and a spit of rock, off which a brig under white 
 canvas stood out for the line of the open sea. 
 
 We swejDt across the roadstead towards the town, trailing 
 our grapnel as it were a hooked fish, a bare hundre ~ ieet 
 above the water. Faces stared up at ns from thw* sn^ps* 
 decks. The crew of one lowered a boat to pursue ; we were 
 half a mile away before it touched the water. Should we 
 clear the town ? At Byfield^s orders we stripped off our 
 overcoats and stood ready to lighten ship : but seeing that 
 the deflected wind in the estuary was carrying us towards 
 the subnrbs and the harbour's mouth, he changed his 
 mind. 
 
 "It is devil or deep sea,*' he announced. " We will try 
 the grapnel. Look to it, Ducie, while I take the valve.'* 
 He pressed a clasp-knife into my hand. " Cut, if I give the 
 word.** 
 
 We descended a few feet. We were skimming the ridge. 
 The grapnel touched, and in the time it takes you to wink, 
 had ploughed through a kitchen garden, uprooting a regi- 
 ment of currant bushes ; had leaped clear, and was caught 
 in the eaves of a wooden outhouse, fetching us up with a 
 dislocating shock. I heard a rending noise and picked 
 myself up in time to see the building collapse like a house 
 of cards and a pair of demented pigs emerge from the ruins 
 and plunge across the garden beds. And with that I was 
 pitched off my feet again as the hook caught in an iron 
 chevaux-de-frise, and held fast. 
 
 ** Hold tight ! ** shouted By field, as the car lurched and 
 struggled, careening desperately. " Don't cut, man I 
 What the devil I ** 
 
 Our rope had tautened over the coping of a high stone 
 wall ; and the straining Lunardi — a very large and hand*
 
 388 ST. IVES 
 
 some blossom, bending on a very tliin stalk — overhung the 
 gravelled yard ; and lo ! from the centre of it stared up at 
 US, rigid with amazement, the faces of a squad of British 
 red-coats ! 
 
 I believe that the first glimpse of that abhorred uni- 
 form brought my knife down upon the rope. In two 
 seconds I had slashed through the strands, and tlie flaccid 
 machine lifted and bore us from their ken. But I see 
 their faces yet, as in basso relievo : round-eyed, open- 
 mouthed ; honest country faces, and boyish, every one ; 
 an awkward squad of recruits at drill, fronting a red- 
 headed sergeant ; the sergeant, with cane held horizontally 
 across and behind his thighs, his face upturned with the 
 rest, and " Irishman " on every feature of it. And so the 
 vision fleeted, and Byfield's language claimed attention. 
 The man took the whole vocabulary of British profanity 
 at a rush, and swore himself to a standstill. As he paused 
 for a second wind I struck in : 
 
 '' Mr. Byfield, you open the wrong valve. "We drift, as 
 you say, towards — nay, over, the open sea. As master of 
 this balloon I suggest that we descend within reasonable 
 distance of the brig yonder ; which, as I make out is back- 
 ing her sails ; which, again, can only mean that she ob- 
 serves us and is preparing to lower a boat.*' 
 
 He saw the sense of this, and turned to business, though 
 with a snarl. As a gull from the cliff, the Lti7iardi 
 slanted downwards, and passing the brig by less than a 
 cable's length to leeward, soused into the sea. 
 
 I say " soused," for I confess that the shock belied the 
 promise of our easy descent. The Lunardi floated : but 
 it also drove before the wind. And as it dragged the car 
 after it like a tilted pail, the four drenched and blinded 
 aeronauts struggled through the spray and gripped the 
 hoop, the netting — nay, dug their nails into the oiled silk.
 
 *'the incomplete aeronauts" 389 
 
 In its new element tlie balloon became inspired with a 
 sudden infernal malice. It sank like a pillow if we tried 
 to climb it : it rolled us over in the brine ; it allowed us 
 no moment for a backward glance. I spied a small cutter- 
 rigged craft tacking towards us, a mile and more to leeward, 
 and wondered if the captain of the brig had left our rescue 
 to it. He had not. I heard a shout behind us ; a rattle 
 of oars as the bowmen shipped them ; and a hand gripped 
 my collar. So one by one we were plucked — uncommon 
 specimens ! — from the deep ; rescued from what Mr. 
 Sheepshanks, a minute later, as he sat down on a thwart 
 and wiped his spectacles, justly termed " a predicament, 
 sir, as disconcerting as any my experience supplies/*
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 "CAPTAIN COLENSO" 
 
 *' But what be ns to do with the balloon, sir ? " the 
 coxswain demanded. 
 
 Had it been my affair I believe I should have obeyed a 
 ridiculous impulse and begged them to keep it for their 
 trouble ; so weary was I of the machine. Bylield, how- 
 ever, directed them to slit a seam of the oiled silk and cut 
 away the car, which was by this time wholly submerged 
 and not to be lifted. At once the Lunardi collapsed and 
 became manageable ; and having roped it to a ring-bolt 
 astern, the crew fell to their oars. 
 
 My teeth were chattering. These operations of salvage 
 had taken time, and it took us a further unconscionable 
 time to cover the distance between us and the brig as she 
 lay hove-to, her maintopsail aback and her head-sails 
 drawing. 
 
 " Feels like towing a whale, sir," the oarsman behind 
 me panted. 
 
 I whipped round. The voice — yes, and the face — were 
 the voice and face of the seaman who sat and steered ns ; 
 the voice English, of a sort ; the face of no pattern that I 
 recognised for English. The fellows were as like as two 
 peas, as like as the two drovers, Sim and Candlish, had 
 been : you might put them both at forty ; grizzled men, 
 pursed about the eyes with seafaring. And now that I 
 came to look, the three rowers forward, though mere lads, 
 
 390
 
 "captain colenso'* 391 
 
 repeated their elders' features and bnild ; the ganut frame, 
 the long, serious face, the swarthy complexion and medi- 
 tative eye — in short, Don Quixote of la Mancha at various 
 stages of growth. Men and lads, I remarked, wore silver 
 earringfj 
 
 I was speculating on this likeness when we shipped oars 
 and fell alongside the brig's ladder. At the head of it 
 my hand was taken, and I was helped on deck with cere- 
 mony by a tall man in loose blue jacket and dack trousers : 
 an old man, bent and frail ; by his air of dignity the 
 master of the vessel, and by his features as clearly the 
 patriarch of the family. He lifted his cap and addressed 
 us with a fine but (as I now recall it) somewhat tired 
 courtesy. 
 
 ''An awkAvard adventure, gentlemen.'* 
 
 "We thanked him in proper form. 
 
 *' I am pleased to have been of service. The pilot-cutter 
 yonder could hardly have fetched you in less than twenty 
 minutes. I have signalled her alongside, and she will con- 
 vey you back to Falmouth ; none the worse, I hope, for 
 your wetting." 
 
 ''A convenience," said I, ''of which my friends will 
 gladly avail themselves. For my part I do not propose to 
 return." 
 
 He paused, weighing my words ; obviously puzzled, but 
 politely anxious to understand. His eyes were grey and 
 honest, even childishly honest, but dulled about the rim 
 of the iris and a trifle vacant, as though the world with its 
 train of affairs had passed beyond his active concern. I 
 keep my own eyes about me when I travel and have sur- 
 prised just such a look, before now, behind the spectacles 
 of very old men who sit by the roadside and break stones 
 for a living. 
 
 " I fear, nr, that I do not take you precisely.*'
 
 392 ST. IVES 
 
 "Why," said 1, "if I may gness, this is one of the 
 famous Falmoutli packets ? '* 
 
 " As to that, sir, you are right and yet wrong. She 
 ^vas a packet, and (if I may say it) a famous one." His 
 gaze travelled aloft, and, descending, rested on mine witli 
 a sort of gentle resignation. *' But the old pennon is 
 down, as you see. At present she sails on a private advent- 
 ure and under private commission." 
 
 " A privateer ? " 
 
 '' You may call it that." 
 
 "The adventure hits my humour even more nicely. 
 Accept me, Captain " 
 
 " Colenso." 
 
 " Accept me. Captain Colenso, for your passenger ; 1 
 will not say comrade-in-arms — ^naval warfare being so far 
 beyond my knowledge, which it would, perhaps, be more 
 descriptive to call ignorance. But I can pay." I thrust 
 a hand nervously into my breast pocket, and blessed Flora 
 for her waterproof bag. 
 
 " Excuse me. Captain, if I speak with my friend here in 
 private for a moment." 
 
 I drew Byfield aside. " Your notes ? The salt wa- 
 ter " 
 
 " You see," said he, ** I am a martyr to acidity of the 
 stomach." 
 
 " Man ! do I invite the confidence of your stomach ? " 
 
 '' Consequently I never make an ascension unaccompa- 
 nied by a small bottle of Epsom salts, tightly corked." 
 
 "And you threw away the salts and substituted the 
 notes ? That was clever of you, Byfield." 
 
 I lifted my voice. "And Mr. Dalmahoy, I presume, 
 returns to his sorrowing folk ? " 
 
 The extravagant cheerfully corrected me. " They will 
 not sorrow ; but I shall return to them. Of their grudged
 
 ''CAPTAIN COLENSO'* 393 
 
 pension I have eigliteen pence in my pocket. But I pro- 
 pose to travel with Sheepshanks, and raise the wind by 
 showing his tricks. He shall toss the caber from Land's 
 End to Forthside, cheered by the plaudits of the interven- 
 ing taverns and furthered by their bounty/* 
 
 *^ A progress which we must try to expedite, if only out 
 of regard for Mrs. Sheepshanks." I turned to Captain 
 Colenso again. ** Well, sir, will you accept me for your 
 passenger ?" 
 
 "I doubt that you are joking, sir." 
 
 ** And I swear to you that I am not." 
 
 He hesitated ; tottered to the companion, and called 
 down, ** Susannah ! Susannah ! a moment on deck, if you 
 please. One of these gentlemen wishes to ship as passen- 
 ger." 
 
 A dark-browed woman of middle age thrust her head 
 above the ladder and eyed me. Even so might a ruminat- 
 ing cow gaze over her hedge upon some posting wayfarer. 
 
 " What's he dressed in ? " she demanded abruptly. 
 
 '* Madam, it was intended for a ball suit." 
 
 '* You will do no dancing here, young man." 
 
 ** My dear lady, I accept that and every condition yoti 
 may impose. Whatever the discipline of the ship " 
 
 She cut me short. 
 
 ** Have you told him, father ? " 
 
 " Why, no. You see, sir, I ought to tell you that this 
 is not an ordinary voyage. " 
 
 '* "Not for that matter is mine." 
 
 ** You will be exposed to risks." 
 
 ** In a privateer that goes without saying.** 
 
 ** The risk of capture." 
 
 ** Naturally ; though a brave captain will not dwell on 
 it." And I bowed. 
 
 " But I do dwell on it," he answered earnestly, a red
 
 394 ST. IVES 
 
 spot showing on either cheek. *' I must tell you, sir, that 
 we are very likely indeed to fall into an enemy's hands. * 
 
 **Say certain/' chimed in Snsannah. 
 
 ** Yes, I will say we are certain. I cannot in conscience 
 do less.'* He sought his daughter's eyes. She nodded. 
 
 " 0, damn your conscience 1 '* thought I, my stomach 
 rising in contempt for this noble-looking, but extremely 
 faint-hearted, privateersman. *' Come,*' I said, rallying 
 him, ** we fall in with a Frenchman, or — ^let us suppose — 
 an American ; that is our object, eh ?** 
 
 ** Yes, with an American. That is our object, to be 
 sure \" 
 
 " Then I warrant we give a good account of ourselves. 
 Tut, tut, man — an ex-packet captain I*' 
 
 I pulled up in sheer wonder at the lunacy of our dispute 
 and the side he was forcing me to take. Here was 1 
 haranguing a grey-headed veteran on his own quarter-deck 
 and exhorting him to valour ! In a flash I saw myself be- 
 fooled, tricked into playing the patronising amateur, com- 
 placently posturing for the derision of gods and men. 
 And Captain Colenso, who aimed but to be rid of me, was 
 laughing in his sleeve, no doubt. In a minute even 
 Sheepshanks would catch the jest. Now, I do mortally 
 hate to be laughed at ; it may be disciplinary for most 
 men, but it turns me obstinate. 
 
 Captair, Colenso, at any rate, dissembled his mirth to 
 perfectioE The look which he shifted from me to Susan- 
 nah and back was eloquent of senile indecision. 
 
 ** I cannot explain to you, sir. The consequences — I 
 might mitigate them for you — still you must risk them." 
 He broke off and appealed to me. I would rather you did 
 not insist, I would, indeed 1 I must beg you, sir, not to 
 press it.** 
 
 ** But I do press it," I answered, stubborn as a mule.
 
 "captain colenso" 395 
 
 " I tell you that I am ready to accept all risks. But if you 
 want me to return with my friends in the cutter, you must 
 summon your crew to pitch me down the ladder. And 
 there's the end on't." 
 
 '' Dear, dear ! Tell me at least, sir, that you are an 
 unmarried man/' 
 
 *' Up to now I have that misfortune. I aimed a bow at 
 Mistress Susannah ; but that lady had turned her broad 
 shoulders and it missed fire. Which reminds me," I 
 continued, " to ask for the favour of pen, ink and paper. 
 I wish to send a letter ashore to the mail." 
 
 She invited me to follow her ; and I descended to the 
 main cabin, a spick-and-span apartment, where we sur- 
 prised two passably good-looking damsels at their house- 
 work, the one polishing a mahogany swing-table, the 
 Other a brass door-handle. They picked up their cloths, 
 dropped me a curtsey apiece, and disappeared at a word 
 from Susannah, who bade me be seated at the swing-table 
 and set writing materials before me. The room was lit 
 by a broad stern window, and lined along two of its sides 
 with mahogany doors leading, as I supposed, to sleeping 
 cabins ; the panels — not to speak of the brass handles and 
 finger-plates — shining so that a man might have seen his 
 face in them to shave by. *'But why all these women on 
 board a privateer ? " thought I, as I tried a quill on my 
 thumb-nail and embarked upon my first love-letter, 
 
 ** Deakest : 
 
 " This line with my deTot'.on to tell you that the balloon has descended 
 safely, and your Anne finds himself on board " 
 
 " By the way. Miss Susannah, what is the name of this 
 ship?^ 
 
 ^' She is called the Lady Nepean; and I am a married 
 woman and the mother of six."
 
 396 ST. IVES 
 
 " I felicitate yon, madam.*' I bowed, and resumed my 
 writing : 
 
 •* the Lady Nepean packet, outward bound from Falmouth to——" 
 
 "Excuse me, but where the dickens are we bound for ?* 
 
 *' For the coast of Massachusetts, I believe." 
 
 ** Yon believe ? " 
 
 She nodded. ** Young man, if you'll take my advice, 
 you'll go back." 
 
 ** Madam," I answered, on a sudden impulse, ** I am an 
 escaped French prisoner." And with that, having tossed 
 my cap over the mills (as they say) I leaned back in the 
 settee, and we regarded each other. " — Escaped ! " I 
 continued, still with my eyes on hers, " with a trifle of 
 money, but minus my heart. I write this to the fair 
 daughter of Britain who has it in her keeping. And now 
 "what have you to say ?" 
 
 ** Ah, well ! " she mused, "the Lord's ways be past find- 
 ing out. It may be the easier for you ! " 
 
 Apparently it was the habit of this ship's company to 
 speak in enigmas. I caught up my pen again : 
 
 ** . . . the coast of Massachusetts, in the United States of 
 America, whence I hope to make my way in good time to France. 
 Though you have news, dearest, I fear none can reach me for a 
 while. Yet and though you have no more to write than ' I love yon, 
 Anne,* write it and commit it to Mr. Robbie, who will forward it to 
 Mr. Romaine, who in turn may find a means to get it smuggled through 
 to Paris, Rue du Fouarre 16. It should be consigned to the Widow 
 Jupille, " to be called for by the corporal who praised her vin hlanc.** 
 She will remember ; and in truth a man who had the courage to praise 
 it deserves remembrance as singular among the levies of France. 
 Should a youth of the name of Rowley present himself before you, 
 you may trust his fidelity absolutely, his sagacity not at all. And so 
 (since the boat waits to take this) I kiss the name of Flora, and sub- 
 scribe myself — until I come to claim her, and afterwards to eternity — 
 h^T prisoner. Anne."
 
 "CAPTAIN COLENSO'' 397 
 
 I had, in fact, a second reason for aLbreviating tliis letter 
 and sealing it in a hurry. The movements of the brig, 
 though slight, were perceptible, and in the close air of the 
 main cabin my head already began to swim. I hastened 
 on deck in time to shake hands with my companions and 
 confide the letter to Byfield with instructions for j)osting 
 it. " And if your share in our adventures should come 
 into public question," said I, **you must apply to a 
 Major Chevenix, now quartered in Edinburgh Castle, who 
 has a fair inkling of the facts, and as a man of honour 
 will not decline to assist you. You have Dalmahoy, too, 
 to back 3^our assertion that you knew me only as Mr. 
 Ducie." Upon Dalmahoy I pressed a note for his and 
 Mr. Sheepshanks's travelling expenses. "My dear fel- 
 low,"*' he protested, '' I couldn't dream — if you are sure 
 it won't inconvenience . . . merely as a loan . . . 
 and deuced handsome of you, I will say." He kept the 
 cutter waiting while he drew up an I. 0. U. in which I 
 figured as Bursar and Almoner {li07ioris causa) to the 
 Senatus Academicus of Cramond-on-Almond. Mr. Sheep- 
 shanks meanwhile shook hand with me impressively. " It 
 has been a memorable experience, sir. I shall have much 
 to tell my wife on my return." 
 
 It occurred to me as probable that the lady would 
 have even more to say to him. He stepped into the cut- 
 ter and, as they pushed off, was hilariously bonneted by 
 Mr. Dalmahoy, by way of parting salute. ''Starboard 
 after braces \" Captain Colenso called to his crew. The 
 yards were trimmed and the Lady Nepean slowly gath- 
 ered way, while I stood by the bulwarks gazing after my 
 friends and attempting to persuade myself that the fresh 
 air was doing me good. 
 
 Captain Colenso perceived my uneasiness and advised 
 me to seek my berth and lie down ; and on my replying
 
 398 ST. IVES 
 
 with haggard defiance, took my arm gently, as if I had 
 been a wilful child, and led me below. I passed beyond 
 one of the mahogany doors leading from the main cabin ; 
 and in that seclusion I ask you to leave me face to face 
 with the next forty-eight hours. It was a dreadful time. 
 
 Nor at the end of it did gaiety wait on a partially re- 
 covered appetite. The ladies of the ship nursed me, 
 tickled my palate with the lightest of sea diet. The men 
 strowed seats for me on deck and touched their caps with 
 respectful sympathy. One and all were indefatigably 
 kind, bnt taciturn to a degree beyond belief. A fog of 
 mystery hung and deepened about them and the Lady 
 Nepean, and 1 crept about the deck in a continuous evil 
 dream, entangling myself in impossible theories. To be- 
 gin with, there were eight women on board : a number not 
 to be reconciled with serious privateering ; all daughters 
 or sons' wives or granddaughters of Captain Colenso. Of 
 the men — twenty-three in all — those who were not called 
 Colenso were called Pengelly ; the most of them convicted 
 landsmen by their bilious countenances and unhandy move- 
 ments ; men fresh from the plough-tail, by their gait, yet 
 with no ruddy impress of field-work and the open air. 
 
 Twice every day, and thrice on Sundays, this extraor- 
 dinary company gathered bare-headed to the poop for a 
 religious service which it would be colourless to call fran- 
 tic— It began decorously enough with a quavering exposi- 
 tion of some portion of Holy Writ by Captair?. ColeiiiO. 
 But by-and-bye (and especially at the evening oiBg } his 
 l*oLvx^ers kindled and opened on him with a skirmishing 
 fire of " Amens." Then, worked by degrees to an ecstasy, 
 they broke into cries of thanksgiving and mutual encour- 
 agement ; they jostled for the rostrum (a long nine- 
 pounder swivel) ; and then speaker after speaker declaimed 
 his souFs experiences until his voice cracked, while the
 
 "captain colenso" 399 
 
 others sobbed, exhorted, even leaped in the air. " Stronger, 
 brother ! ! ! 'Tis working, 'tis working ! ! ! deliv- 
 era^nce ! ! ! streams of redemption ! " For ten minutes 
 or .... '^--uarter of an hour maybe, the ship was a Babel, a 
 Bedlam. And then the tumult would die down as sud- 
 denly as it had arisen, and, dismissed by the old man, the 
 crew, with faces once more inscrutable but twitching with 
 ^pent emotion, scattered to their usual tasks. 
 
 Five minutes after these singular outbreaks it was diffi- 
 cult to believe in them. Captain Colenso paced the quar- 
 ter-deck once more with his customary shuffle, his hands 
 beneath his coat-tails, his eyes conning the ship with their 
 usual air of mild abstraction. Now and again he paused 
 to instruct one of his incapables in the trimming of a brace, 
 or to correct the tie of a knot. He never scolded ; seldom 
 lifted his voice. By his manner of speech and the ease of 
 his authority he and his family might have belonged to 
 separate ranks of life. Yet I seemed to detect method in 
 their obedience. The veriest fumbler went about his work 
 with a concentrated gravity of bearing as if he fulfilled 
 a remoter purpose, and understood it while he tied his 
 knots into ** grannies" and generally mismanaged the job 
 in hand. 
 
 Towards the middle of our second week, we fell in with 
 a storm — a rotatory affair, and soon over by reason that we 
 struck the outer fringe of it — but to a landsman sufficiently 
 daunting while it lasted. Late in the afternoon I thrust 
 my head up for a look around. We were weltering along 
 in horrible forty-foot seas, over which our bulwarks tilted 
 at times until from tlie companion hatchway, I stared 
 plumb into the grey sliding chasms, and felt like a fly 
 on the wall. The Lady Nepean hurled her old timbers 
 along under close-reefed maintopsail and a rag of a fore- 
 sail only. The captain had housed top-gallant masts and
 
 400 ST. IVES 
 
 lashed his guns inboard ; yet she rolled so that you would 
 not have trusted a cat on her storm-washed decks. They 
 were desolate but for the captain and helmsman on the 
 poop ; the helmsman, a mere lad — the one, in fact, who 
 had pulled the bow-oar to our rescue — lashed and gripping 
 the spokes pluckily, but with a white face which told that, 
 though his eyes were strained on the binnacle, his mind 
 ran on the infernal seas astern. Over him, in sea-boots 
 and oilskins, towered Captain Colenso — rejuvenated, trans- 
 figured ; his body swaying easily to every lurch and plunge 
 of the brig, his face entirely composed and cheerful, his. 
 saltrimmed eyes contracted a little, but alert and even boy- 
 ishly bright. An heroical figure of a man ! 
 
 My heart warmed to Captain Colenso ; and next morn- 
 ing, as we bowled forward again with a temperate breeze 
 on our beam, I took occasion to compliment him on the 
 Lady Nepea7i's behaviour. 
 
 *' Aj," said he, abstractedly ; '' the old girl made pretty 
 good weather of it ! " 
 
 " I suppose we were never in what you would call real 
 danger H" 
 
 He faced me with sudden earnestness. '* Mr. Diicie, I 
 have served the Lord all my days and He will not sink the 
 ship that carries my honour.'' Giving me no time to puzzle 
 over this, he changed his tone. " You'll scarcely believe 
 it, but in her young days she had a very fair turn of speed." 
 
 '* Her business surely demands it still," said I. Only an 
 arrant landsman could have reconciled the lumbering old 
 craft with any idea of privateering ; but this was my only 
 theory, and I clung to it. 
 
 " We shall not need to test her." 
 
 " You rely on your guns then ? " I had observed the 
 care lavished on these. They were of brass, and shone 
 like the door-plates in the main cabin.
 
 "captain colenso" 401 
 
 "Why as to that," he answered evasively, "Fve had to 
 before now. The last voyage I commanded her — it was 
 Just after the war broke out with America — we fell in with 
 a schooner off the Banks ; we were outward bound for Hal- 
 ifax. She carried twelve nine-pounder carronades and 
 two long nines, besides a big fellow on a traverse ; and we 
 had the guns you see — eight nine-pounders and one chaser 
 of the same calibre — post-ofBce guns, we call them. But 
 we beat her off after two hours of it." 
 
 " And saved the mails ? " 
 
 He rose abruptly (we had seated ourselves on a couple of 
 hen-coops under the break of the poop). "You will ex- 
 cuse me. I have an order to give " ; and he hurried up 
 the steps to the quarter-deck. 
 
 It must have been ten days after this that he stopped 
 me in one of my eternal listless promenades and invited 
 me to sit beside him again. 
 
 " I wish to take your opinion, Mr. Ducie. You have 
 not, I believe, found salvation ? You are not one of us, 
 as I may say ? " 
 
 " Meaning by ' us ' ? " 
 
 " I and mine, sir, are unworthy followers of the Word 
 as preached by John Wesley." 
 
 " Why no, that is not my religion." 
 
 "But you are a gentleman ?" I bowed. "And on a 
 point of honour — do you think, sir, that as a servant of the 
 King one should obey his earthly master even to doing 
 what conscience forbids ? " 
 
 " That might depend " 
 
 " But on a point of honour, sir ? Suppose that you had 
 pledged your private word, in a just, nay, a generous bar- 
 gain, and were commanded to break it. Is there anything 
 could override that ? " 
 
 I thought of my poor old French colonel and his broken
 
 402 ST. IVES 
 
 parole; and was silent. ''Can you not tell me the cir- 
 cumstances ?" 1 suggested, at length. 
 
 He had been watching me eagerly. But he shook his> 
 head now, sighed and drew a small Bible from his pocket. 
 " I am not a gentleman, sir, I laid it before the Lord : 
 but,'" he continued naively, "I wanted to learn how a 
 gentleman would look at it.'' He searched for a text, 
 turning the pages with long, nervous fingers ; but desisted 
 with another sigh, and a moment later was summoned 
 away to solve some difficulty with the ship's reckoning. 
 
 My respect for the Captain had been steadily growing. 
 He was so amiable too, so untiringly courteous ; he bore 
 his sorrow — whatever the cause might be — with so gentle 
 a resignation, that I caught myself pitying even while I 
 cursed him and his crew for their inhuman reticence. 
 
 But my respect vanished pretty quickly next day. We 
 were seated at dinner in the main cabin, the captain at the 
 head of the table, and, as usual, crumbling his biscuit in 
 a sort of waking trance — when Mr. Reuben Colenso, his 
 eldest son, and acting mate, put his solemn face in at the 
 door with news of a sail about four miles distant on the lee 
 bow. I followed the captain on deck. The stranger, a 
 schooner, had been lying-to when first described in the 
 hazy weather ; but was standing now to intercept us. At 
 iWo miles distance — it being then about two o'clock — I 
 iaw that she hoisted British colours. 
 
 " But that flag was never sewn in England," Captain 
 Colenso observed, studying her through his glass. His 
 cheeks, usually of that pallid ivory colour proper to old 
 age, were flushed with a faint carmine, and I observed a 
 suppressed excitement in all his crew. For my part, I 
 expected no better than to play target in the coming en- 
 gagement ; but it surprised me that he served out no cut' 
 lasses, ordered up no powder from the hold, or, in short.
 
 "captain colenso" 40 
 
 took no single step to clear the Lady Nepean for ac- 
 tion or put his men in fighting trim. The most of them 
 were gathered about the fore-hatch to the total neglect of 
 their guns, which they had been cleaning assiduously all 
 the morning. On we stood without shifting our course by 
 a point, and were within range when the schooner ran up 
 the Stars-and-Stripes and plumped a round shot ahead of 
 ns by way of hint. 
 
 I stared at Captain Colenso. Could he mean to surren- 
 der without one blow ? He had exchanged his glass for 
 a speaking-trumpet, and waited, fumbling with it, his face 
 twitching painfully. A cold dishonouring susj)icion grij^ped 
 me. The man was here to betray his flag. I glanced 
 aloft ; the British ensign flew at the peak. And as I 
 turned my head I felt rather than saw the flash, heard the 
 shattering din as the puzzled American luffed up and let 
 fly across our bows with a raking broadside. Doubtless 
 she, too, took note of our defiant ensign and leaped at the 
 nearest guess, that we meant to run her aboard. 
 
 Now, whether my glance awoke Captain Colenso, or 
 this was left to the all but simultaneous voice of the guns, 
 I know not. But as their smoke rolled between us I saw 
 him drop his trumpet and run with a crazed face to the 
 taffrail, where the hallyards led. The traitor had forgot- 
 ten tc iaul down his flag ! 
 
 It was too late. While he fumbled with the hallyards, 
 a storm of musketry burst and swept the quarter-deck. 
 He flung up both hands, spun round upon his heel, and 
 pitched backwards at the helmsman^s feet, and the loosened 
 ensign dropped slowly and fell across him, as if to cover- 
 his shame. 
 
 Instantly the firing ceased. I stood there between com- 
 passion and disgust, willing yet loathing to touch the- 
 pitiful corpse, when a woman — Susannah — ran screaming
 
 404 ST. IVES 
 
 by me and fell on her knees beside it ! I saw a trickle 
 of blood ooze beneath the scarlet folds of the flag. It 
 crawled along the plank, hesitated at a seam, and grew 
 there to an oddly-shaped pool. I watched it. In shape I 
 thought it remarkably like the map of Ireland. And I 
 became aware that some one was speaking to me, and 
 looked up to find a lean and lantern-jawed American come 
 aboard and standing at my shoulder. 
 
 " Are you anywise hard of hearing, stranger ? Or must 
 I repeat to you that this licks cockfighting.'" 
 
 *' I, at any rate, am not disputing it, sir." 
 
 " The Lady Nepean, too ! Is that the Cap'n yonder ? 
 I thought as much. Dead, hey ? Well, he'd better stay 
 dead, though I'd have enjoyed the inside o' five minutes' 
 talk just to find out what he did it for." 
 
 '' Did what ? " 
 
 "Why, brought the Lady Nepean into these waters, 
 and Commodore Eodgers no further away than Rhole Isl- 
 and, by all accounts. He must have had a nerve. And 
 what post might you be holding on this all-fired packet ? 
 Darn me, but you have females enough on board !" For 
 indeed there were three poor creatures kneeling now and 
 crooning over the dead captain. The men had surrendered 
 — they had no arms to fling down — and were collected in 
 the waist, under guard of a cordon of Yankees. One 
 lay senseless on deck and two or three were bleeding from 
 splinter wounds ; for the enemy, her freeboard being 
 lower by a foot or two than the wall sides of the Lady 
 Nepean had done little execution on deck, whatever the 
 wounds in our hull might be. 
 
 *' I beg your pardon. Captain " 
 
 " Seccombe, sir, is my name. Alpheus Q. Seccombe, of 
 the Manhattan, schooner." 
 
 **Well, then. Captain Seccombe, I am a passenger on
 
 «< i-l A T>TI » TXT i-I^T TT'XTC^/^ " 
 
 CAPTAIN COLENSO" 405 
 
 board this ship and know neither her business here nor 
 why she has behaved in a fashion that makes me blush 
 for her flag — which^ by the way, I have every reason to 
 abominate." 
 
 '•' 0, come now ! You're trying it on. It's a yard-arm 
 matter and I don't blame you, to be sure. Cap'n sank the 
 mails ? " 
 
 " There were none to sink, I believe." 
 
 He conned me curiously. 
 
 " You don't look like a Britisher, either." 
 
 " I trust not. I am the Viscount Anne de Keroual de 
 St. Yves, escaped from a British war-j^rison." 
 
 " Lucky for you if you prove it. We'll get to the bot- 
 tom of this." He faced about and called, " Who's the first 
 officer of this brig ? " 
 
 Eeuben Colenso was allowed to step forward. Blood 
 from a scalp- wound had run and caked on his right cheek, 
 but he stepped squarely enough. 
 
 ''Bring him below," Captain Seccombe commanded. 
 " And you, Mr. What's-your-name, lead the way. It's one 
 or the other of us will get the hang of this affair." 
 
 He seated himself at the head of the table in the main 
 cabin, and spat ceremoniously on the floor. 
 
 " Xow, sir, you are, or were, first ofiicer of this brig ? " 
 
 The prisoner, standing between his two guards, gripped 
 his stocking-cap nervously. " Will you please to tell me, 
 sir, if my father is killed ? " 
 
 ''Seth, my lad, I want room." One of the guards, a 
 strapping youngster, stepped and flung open a pane of the 
 stern window. Captain Seccombe spat out of it with non- 
 chalant dexterity before answering : 
 
 " I guess he is. Brig's name ? " 
 
 " The Lady Nepemi." 
 
 *' Mail packet ? "
 
 406 ST. IVES 
 
 " Yes, sir — leastways- 
 
 " Now, see here. Mister First Officer Colenso, junior, 
 it's a shortish trip between this and the yard-arm, and it 
 may save you some superfluous lying if I tell you that 
 in August last year, the Ladi/ Nepean, packet, Ctiptain 
 Colenso, outward bound for Halifax, met the Hitcltcock, 
 privateer, off the Great Bunk of Newfoundland, and beat 
 her off after two hours' fighting. You were on board of 
 her?" 
 
 " I tended the stern gun." 
 
 ''Very good ! The next day, being still off the Banks, 
 she fell in with Commodore llodgers, of the United States 
 frigate President, and surrendered to him right away." 
 " We sank the mails." 
 
 '' You did, my man. Notwithstanding which, that lion- 
 hearted hero treated you with the forbearance of a true- 
 born son of freedom." Captain Seccombe's voice took an 
 oratorical roll. " He saw that you were bleeding from 
 your fray. lie fed you at his hospitable board ; he would 
 not suffer you to be denuded of the least trifle. Nay, 
 what did he promise ? — but to send your father and his 
 crfew and passengers back to England in their own ship, 
 on their swearing upon their sacred honour that she should 
 return to Boston harbour with an equal number of Ameri- 
 can prisoners from England. Your father swore to that 
 upon the Old and New Testaments, severally and conjointly; 
 ' and the Lady Nepean sailed home for all the world like 
 a lamb from the wolf's jaws, with a single American offi- 
 cer inside of her. And how did your dog-damned govern- 
 ment receive this noble confidence ? In a way, sir, that 
 would have brought a blush to the cheek of a low-down 
 attorney's clerk. They repudiated. Under shelter of a 
 notification that no exchange of prisoners on the high seas 
 would count as valid, this perjured tyrant and his myrmi-
 
 "CAPTAIN COLENSO" 407 
 
 dons went back on their captain's oath, and kept the brig ; 
 and the American officer came home empty-handed. Your 
 father was told to resume his duties, immortal souls being 
 cheap in a country where they press seamen's bodies. And 
 now. Mister First Officer Colenso, perhaps you'll explain 
 how he had the impudence to come within two hundred 
 miles of a coast where his name smelt worse than vermin.'* 
 
 " He was coming back, sir." 
 
 " Hey ? " 
 
 " Back to Boston, sir. You see, Cap'n, father wasn't a 
 rich man, but he had saved a trifle. He didn't go back to 
 the service, though told that he might. It preyed on his 
 mind. We was all very fond of father, being all one fam- 
 ily, as you might say, though some of us had wives and 
 families, and some were over to Eedruth to the mines." 
 
 ^' Stick to the point." 
 
 *' But this is the point, Cap'n. He was coming back, 
 you see. The Lady Nepean wasn't fit for much after 
 the handling she'd had. She was going for twelve hundred 
 pounds. The Post Office didn't look for more. "We got 
 her for eleven hundred with the guns, and the repairs may 
 have cost a hundred and fifty ; but you'll find the account 
 books in the cupboard there. Father had a matter of five 
 hundred laid by and a little over." 
 
 Captain Seccombe removed his legs from the cabin-table, 
 tilted his chair forward, and half rose in his seat. 
 
 ''You 5o?<^/i^ her ?" 
 
 *' That's what I'm telling you, sir ; though f ather'a 
 have put it much clearer. You see, he laid it before the 
 Lord ; and then he laid it before all of us. It preyed on 
 his mind. My sister Susannah stood up and she said, ' I 
 reckon I'm the most respectably married of all of you, 
 having a farm of my own ; but we can sell up, and all the 
 world's a home to them that fears the Lord. We can't
 
 408 ST. IVES 
 
 stock np with American prisoners, but we can go ourselves 
 instead ; and, judging by the prisoners I've a-seen brought 
 in, Commodore Rodgers'll be glad to take us. What he 
 does to us is the Lord's affair.' That's what she said, sir. 
 Of course we kept it quiet ; we put it about that the Lady 
 Nepean was for Canada, and the whole family going out 
 for emigrants. This here gentleman we picked up outside 
 Falmouth ; perhaps he've told you." 
 
 Captain Seccombe stared at me, and I at Captain Sec- 
 combe. Reuben Colenso stood wringing his cap. 
 
 At length the American found breath enough to whistle. 
 " I'll have to put back to Boston about this, though it's 
 money out of pocket. This here's a matter for Commo- 
 dore Bainbridge. Take a seat, Mr. Colenso." 
 
 *' I was going to ask," said the prisoner, simply, **if be- 
 fore you put me in irons, I might go on deck and look at 
 father. It'll be only a moment, sir." 
 
 '' Yes, sir, you may. And if you can get the ladies to 
 excuse me, I will follow in a few minutes. I wish to pay 
 him my respects. It's my opinion," he added pensively, 
 as the prisoner left the cabin, " it's my opinion that the 
 man's story is genu-wine." 
 
 He repeated the word, five minutes later, as we stood 
 on the quarter-deck beside the body. " A genu-wine man, 
 sir, unless I am mistaken." 
 
 Well, the question is one for casuists. In my travels I 
 have learnt this, that men are greater than governments ; 
 wiser sometimes, honester always. Heaven deliver me 
 from any such problem as killed this old packet-captain ! 
 Between loyalty to his king and loyalty to his conscience, 
 he had to choose, and it is likely enough that he erred. 
 But I believe that he fought it out, and found on his 
 country's side a limit of shame to which he could not 
 stoop. A man so placed, perhaps, may even betray his
 
 "captain colenso" 409 
 
 country to her honour. In this hope at least the flag which 
 he had hauled down covered his body still as we commit- 
 ted it to the sea, its service or disservice done. 
 
 Two days later we anchored in the great harbour at 
 Boston, where Captain Seccombe went with his story and 
 his prisoners to Commodore Bainbridge, who kept them, 
 pending news of Commodore Rodgers. They were sent, a 
 few weeks later, to Newport, Rhode Island, to be interro- 
 gated by that commander ; and, to the honour of the Re- 
 public, were released on a liberal parole; but whether 
 when the war ended they returned to England or took 
 oath as American citizens, I have not learnt, I was 
 luckier. The Commodore allowed Captain Seccombe to 
 detain me while the French consul made inquiry into my 
 story ; and during the two months which the consul 
 thought fit to take over it, I was a guest in the captain's 
 house. And here, I made my bow to Miss Amelia Sec- 
 combe, an accomplished young lady, " who,'' said her dot- 
 ing father, **has acquired a considerable proficiency in 
 French and will be glad to swop ideas with you in that 
 language." Miss Seccombe and I did not hold our com- 
 munications in French ; and, observing her disposition to 
 substitute the warmer language of the glances, I took the 
 bull by the horns, told her my secret and rhapsodised on 
 Flora. Consequently no Nausicaa figures in this Odyssey of 
 mine. Nay, the excellent girl flung herself into my cause, 
 and bombarded her father and the consular ofiice, with 
 such effect that on February 2, 1814, I waved farewell to 
 her from the deck of the barque Shawmut, bound from 
 Boston to Bordeaux.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 IN" PARIS — ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 
 
 On" the 10th of March at sunset the Shmvmnt passed 
 the Pointe de Grave fort and entered the moutli of the 
 Gironde, and at eleven o^clock next morning dropped 
 anchor a little below Blaye, under the guns of the lier/ulus, 
 74. We were just in time, a British fleet being daily ex- 
 pected there to co-operate Avith the Due d'Angouleme and 
 Count Lynch, who was then preparing to pull the tricolor 
 from his shoulder and betray Bordeaux to Beresford, or, if 
 you prefer it, to the Bourbon. News of his purpose had 
 already travelled down to Blaye, and therefore no sooner 
 were my feet once more on the soil of my beloved France, 
 than I turned them towards Libourne, or rather, Fronsac, 
 and the morning after my arrival there, started for the 
 capital. 
 
 But so desperately were the Joints of travel dislocated, 
 (the war having dej)lenished the country alike of cattle and 
 able-bodied drivers) and so frequent were the breakdowns 
 by the way, that I might as expeditiously have trudged 
 it. It cost me fifteen good days to reach Orleans, and at 
 Etampes (which I reached on the morning of the 30th), 
 the driver of the tottering diligence flatly declined to pro- 
 ceed. The Cossacks and Prussians were at the gates of 
 Paria **Last night we could see the fires of their 
 bivouacs. If Monsieur listens he can hear the firing.'* 
 The Empress had fled from the Tuileries. Whither ? The 
 
 410
 
 ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 411 
 
 driver, the aubergiste, the disinterested crowd, shrugged 
 their shoulders. " To Eambouillet, probably/* God knew 
 what was happening or what would happen. The Em- 
 peror was at Troyes, or at Sens, or else as near as Fontaine- 
 bleau, nobody knew for certain which. But the fugitives 
 from Paris had been pouring in for days, and not a cart- or 
 four-footed beast was to be hired for love or mop^y. thougb 
 I hunted Etarapes for hours. 
 
 At length, and at nightfall, I ran againgi a bow-kneed 
 grey mare and a cabriolet de place, whicli by its label be- 
 longed to Paris ; the pair wandering the street under what 
 it would be flattery to call the guidance of an eminently 
 drunken driver. I boarded him ; he dissolved at once into 
 maudlin tears and prolixity. It appeared that on the 29th 
 he had brought over a bourgeois family from the capital and 
 had spent the last three days in perambulating Etampes, 
 and the past three nights in crapulous slumber within his 
 vehicle. Here was my chance, and I demanded to know if 
 for a price he would drive me back with him to Paris. He 
 declared, still weeping, that he was fit for anything. ** For 
 my part, I am ready to die, and Monsieur knows that we 
 shall never reach.*' 
 
 ** Still anything is better than Etampes.*' 
 
 For some inscrutable reason this struck him as exces- 
 sively comic. He assured me that I was a brave fellow, 
 and bade me jump up at once. Within five minutes we were 
 Jolting towards Paris. Our progress was all but inappre- 
 ciable, for the grey mare had come to the end of her 
 powers, and her master's monologue kept pace with hers. 
 His anecdotes were all of the past three days. The iron of 
 Etampes apparently had entered his soul and effaced all 
 memory of his antecedent career. Of the war, of any 
 recent public events, he could tell me nothing. 
 
 I had half expected — supposing the Emperor to be near
 
 412 ST. IVES 
 
 Fontaineblean — to happen on his vedettes, but we had the 
 road to ourselves, and reached Longjumeau a little before 
 daybreak without having encountered a living creature. 
 Here we knocked up the proprietor of a cabaret, who 
 assured us, between yawns, that we were going to our doom j 
 and after baiting the grey and dosing ourselves with execra- 
 ble brandy, pushed forward again. As the sky grew pale 
 about ns, I had my ears alert for the sound of artillery. 
 But Paris kept silence. We passed Sceaux, and arrived 
 at length at Montrouge and the barrier. It was open- 
 abandoned — not a sentry, not a douanier visibla 
 
 ** Where will Monsieur be pleased to descend ? '* my 
 driver enquired, and added with an effort of memory, that 
 he had a wife and two adorable children on a top floor in 
 the Rue du Mont Parnasse, and stabled his mare handy 
 by. I paid, and watched him from the deserted pavement 
 as he drove away. A small child came running from a 
 doorway behind me, and blundered against my legs. I 
 caught him by the collar and demanded what had happened 
 to Paris. ** That I do not know,'* said the child, " but 
 mamma is dressing herself to take me to the Review. 
 Tenez" he pointed, and at the head of the long street I 
 saw advancing the front rank of a blue-coated regiment of 
 Prussians, marching across Paris to take up position on 
 the Orleans road. 
 
 That was my answer. Paris had surrendered ! And I 
 ^ad entered it from the south just in time, if I wished, to 
 Jvitness the entry of His Majesty the Emperor Alexander 
 from the north. Soon I found myself one of a crowd con- 
 verging towards the bridges, to scatter northward along the 
 line of His Majesty's progress, from the Barridre de Pontin 
 to the Champs Elysees, where the grand review was to be 
 held. I chose this for my objective, and making my way 
 along the Quays, found myself shortly before ten o'clock
 
 ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CAED 413 
 
 In the Place de la Concorde, where a singular little scene 
 brought me to a halt. 
 
 About a score of young men — aristocrats by their dress 
 and carriage — were gathered about the centre of the 
 square. Each wore a white scarf and the Bourbon cockade 
 in his hat ; and their leader, a weedy youth with hay- 
 coloured hair, had drawn a paper from his pocket, and 
 was declaiming its contents at the top of a voice by several 
 sizes too big for him : — 
 
 •' For Paris ia reserved the privilege, under circumstances now ex- 
 isting, to accelerate the dawn of Universal Peace. Her suffrage is 
 awaited with the interest which so immense a result naturally in* 
 spires," 
 
 et cetera. Later on, I possessed myself of a copy of the 
 Prince of Schwarzenberg's proclamation, and identified the 
 wooden rhetoric at once. 
 
 " Parisians ! you have the example of Bordeaux before 
 you "... Ay, by the Lord, they had — right under 
 their eyes ! The hay-coloured youth wound up his read- 
 ing with a " Vive U roi ! " and his band of walking-gentle- 
 men took up the shout. The crowd looked on impassive ; 
 one or two edged away ; and a grey-haired, soldierly horse- 
 man (whom I recognised for the Due de Choiseul-Praslin) 
 passing in full tenue of Colonel of the National Guard, 
 reined up, and addressed the young men in a few words 
 of grave rebuke. Two or three answered by snapping 
 their fingers, and repeating their "Vive le roi" with a 
 kind of embarrassed defiance. But their performance, be- 
 fore so chilling an audience, was falling sadly flat when a 
 dozen or more of young royalist bloods came riding up to 
 reanimate it — among them M. Louis de Chateaubriand, 
 M. Talleyrand's brother, Archambaut de Perigord, the 
 scoundrelly Marquis de Maubreuil — yes, and my cousin, 
 the Vicomte de Saint Ives.
 
 414 ST. IVES 
 
 The indecency, the cynical and naked impudence of it 
 took me like a buffet. There, in a group of strangers, 
 my cheek reddened under it, and for the moment I hud a 
 mind to run. I had done better to run. By a chance his 
 eye missed mine as he swaggered past at a canter, for all 
 the world like a tenore robusto on horseback, with the 
 rouge on his face, and his air of expansive Olympian 
 blackguardism. He carried a lace white handkerchief at 
 the end of his riding-switch, and this was bad enough. 
 But as he wheeled his bay thoroughbred, I saw that he had 
 followed the declasse Maubreuil's example and decorated 
 the brute's tail with a Cross of the Legion of Honour, 
 That brought my teeth together, and I stood my ground. 
 
 "Vive le roi!" "Vivent les Bourbons!" "A has le 
 sabot corse!" Maubreuil had brought a basket full of 
 white brassards and cockades, and the gallant horseman be- 
 gan to ride about and press them upon the unresponsive 
 crowd. Alain held one of the badges at arm's length as he 
 pushed into tlie little group about me, and our eyes met. 
 
 " Merci," said I, " retenez-le jusqu' a ce que nous nous 
 rencontrons — Rue Gregoire cle Tours ! " 
 
 His arm with the riding-switch and laced handkerchief 
 went up as though he had been stung. Before it could 
 descend, I darted aside deep into the crowd which hustled 
 around him, understanding nothing, but none the less 
 sullenly hostile. "A has les cocardes blatiches ! " cried 
 one or two. ** Who was the cur ? " I heard Maubreuil's 
 question as he pressed in to the rescue, and Alain's reply, 
 " Peste ! A young relative of mine who is in a hurry to 
 lose his head ; whereas I prefer to chose the time for 
 that." 
 
 I took this for a splutter of hatred, and even found it 
 laughable as I made my escape good. At the same time, 
 our encounter had put me out of humour for gaping at
 
 ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 415 
 
 the review, and I turned back and recrossed the river, to 
 seek the Ene du Fouarre and the Widow Jupille. 
 
 Now the Kue du Fouarre, though once a very famous 
 thoroughfare, is to-day perhaps as squalid as any that 
 drains its refuse by a single gutter into the Seine, and the 
 widow had been no beauty even in the days when she fol- 
 lowed the 106th of the line as vivandiere and before she 
 wedded Sergeant Jupille of that regiment. But she and I 
 had struck up a friendship over a flesh wound which I re- 
 ceived in an affair of outposts on the Algueda, and thence- 
 forward I taught myself to soften the edge of her white 
 wine by the remembered virtues of her ointment, so that 
 when Sergeant Jupille was cut off by a grape-shot in front 
 of Salamanca, and his Philomene retired to take charge of 
 his mother's wine-shop in the Rue du Fouarre, she had 
 enrolled my name high on the list of her prospective pa- 
 trons. I felt myself, so to speak, a part in the goodwill of 
 her house, and ''Heaven knows," thought I, as I threaded 
 the insalubrious street, " it is something for a soldier of the 
 Empire to count even on this much in Paris to-day. Est 
 aliquid, quocunque loco, quocunque sacello. . . ." 
 
 Madame Jupille knew me at once, and we fell (figura- 
 tively speaking) upon each others neck. Her shop was 
 empty, the whole quarter had trooped off to the review. 
 After mingling our tears (again figuratively) over the 
 fickleness of the capital, I enquired if she had any letters 
 for me. 
 
 ''Wliy, no, comrade." 
 
 " Xone ? '' I exclaimed with a very blank face. 
 
 " Not one " ; Madame Jupille eyed me archly, and re- 
 lented, "the reason being that Mademoiselle is too dis- 
 creet.'' 
 
 '' Ah ! " I heaved a big sigh of relief. " You provoking 
 woman, tell me what you mean by that ? "
 
 416 ST. IVES 
 
 " Well, now, it may have been ten days ago that a stranger 
 called in and asked if I had any news of the corporal who 
 praised my white wine. ' Have I any news,' said I, ' of 
 a needle in a bundle of hay. They all praise it.'" (0 
 Madame Jupille !) '''The corporal I'm speaking of,' said 
 he, 'is or was called Champdivers.' ' Was.' I cried, 
 * You are not going to tell me that he's dead ? ' and I de- 
 clare to you, comrade, the tears came into my eyes. ' No, 
 he is not,' said the stranger, ' and the best proof is that he 
 will be here inquiring for letters before long. Yoa are to 
 tell him that if he expects one from ' — see, I took the name 
 down on a scrap of paper, and stuck it in the wine-glass 
 here — ' from Miss Flora Gilchrist, he will do well to wait 
 in Paris until a friend finds means to deliver it by hand. 
 And if he asks more about me, say that I am from ' — 
 tenez! I wrote the second name underneath — yes, that is 
 it — ' Mr. Eomaine. ' " 
 
 " Confound his caution," said I. " What sort of man 
 was this messenger ? " 
 
 " 0, a staid-looking man, dark and civil spoken. You 
 might call him an upper servant, or perhaps a notary's 
 clerk ; very plainly dressed, in black." 
 
 " He spoke French ? " 
 
 *' Parfaitement. What else ? " 
 
 "And he has not called again ? " 
 
 "To be sure, yes, and the day before yesterday, and 
 seemed quite disappointed. ' Is there anything Monsieur 
 would like to add to his message ?' I asked. ' No,' said 
 he, ' or stay, tell him that all goes well in the North, but 
 he must not leave Paris until I see him.' " 
 
 You may guess how I cursed Mr. Eomaine for this beat- 
 ing about the bush. If all went well in the North, what 
 possible excuse of caution could the man have for holding 
 back Flora's letter ? And how, in any case, could it com-
 
 ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CAED 417 
 
 promise me here in Paris. I had half a mind to take the 
 bit in my teeth and post off at once for Calais. Still, there 
 was the plain injunction, and the lawyer doubtless had a 
 ipeason for it hidden somewhere behind his tiresome eir- 
 ciimambulatory approaches. And his messenger might 
 be back at any hour. 
 
 Therefore, though it went against the grain, I thought 
 it prudent to take lodgings with Madame Jupille and 
 possess my soul in patience. You will say that it should 
 not have been difficult to kill time in Paris between the 
 31st of March and the 5th of April, 1814. The entry of 
 the Allies, Marmont^s great betrayal, the Emperor's abdi- 
 cation, the Cossacks in the streets, the newspaper offices at 
 work like hives under their new editors, and buzzing con- 
 tradictory news from morning to night ; a new rumour at 
 every cafe, a scuffle, or the makings of one, at every street 
 corner, and hour by hour a steady stream of manifestoes, 
 placards, handbills, caricatures, and broad sheets of oppro- 
 brious verse — the din of it all went by me like the vain 
 noises of a dream as I trod the pavements, intent upon my 
 own hopes and perplexities. I cannot think that this was 
 mere selfishness ; rather, a deep disgust was weaning me 
 from my country. If this Paris, indeed, were the reality, 
 then was I the phantasm, the revenant ; then was France 
 — the France for which I had fought and my parents gone 
 to the scaffold — a land that had never been, and our patriot- 
 ism the shadow of a shade. Judsre me not too hardlv if 
 in the restless, aimless perambulations of those five days I 
 crossed the bridge between the country that held neither 
 kin nor friends for me, but only my ineffectual past, and 
 the country wherein one human creature, if only one, had 
 use for my devotion. 
 
 On the sixth day — that is, April 5th — my patience broke 
 down, I took my resolution -^^er icnch and a bottle of
 
 418 ST. IVES 
 
 Beanjolais, and walked straight back from the restaurant 
 to my lodgings, where I asked Madame Jupille for pen, 
 ink, and paper, and sat down to advertise Mr. Romaine 
 that, for good or ill, he might expect me in London within 
 twenty-four hours of the receipt of this letter. 
 
 I had scarce composed the first sentence when there 
 came a knock at the door, and Madame Jupille announced 
 that two gentlemen desired to see me. " Show them up," 
 said I, laying down my pen with a leaping heart ; and in 
 the doorway a moment later stood — my cousin Alain, 
 
 He was alone. He glanced with a grin of comprehension 
 from me to the letter, advanced, set his hat on the table 
 beside it, and his gloves (after blowing into them) beside 
 his hat. 
 
 '' My cousin," said he, " yon show astonishing agility 
 from time to time ; but on the whole you are damned easy 
 to hunt." 
 
 I had risen. " I take it you have passing business to 
 speak of, since amid your latest political occupations you 
 have been at pains to seek me out. If so, I will ask you to 
 be brief." 
 
 *' No pains at all," he corrected, aflPably. '' I have known 
 all the time that you were here. In fact, I expected you 
 some while before you arrived, and sent my man, Paul, 
 with a message." 
 
 '' A message ? " 
 
 *' Certainly — touching a letter from la belle Flora. You 
 received it ? The message, I mean." 
 
 '' Then it was not " 
 
 " No, decidedly it was not Mr. Eomaine, to whom " — 
 with another glance at the letter — ''I perceive you are only 
 writing for explanations. And since you are preparing to 
 ask how on earth I traced you to this rather unsavoury den, 
 permit me to inform you that * a b* spells ' ab,* and that
 
 ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 419 
 
 Bow Street, when on the track of a criminal, does not neg- 
 lect to open his correspondence/' 
 
 I felt my hand tremble as it gripped the top rail of my 
 chair, but I managed to command my voice to answer, 
 coldly enough : 
 
 " One moment. Monsieur le Vicomte, before I do my- 
 self the pleasure of pitching you out of the window. 
 You have detained me these five days in Paris, and have 
 done so, you give me to understand, by the simple expedi- 
 ent of a lie. So far, so good. Will you do me the favor to 
 complete the interesting self-exposure, and inform me of 
 your reasons ? " 
 
 ''"With all the pleasure in life. My plans were not 
 ready — a little detail wanting, that is all. It is now sup- 
 plied." He took a chair, seated himself at the table, and 
 drew a folded paper from his breast-pocket. " It will be 
 news to you, perhaps, that our uncle — our lamented uncle, 
 if you choose — is dead these three weeks." 
 
 " Eest his soul ! " 
 
 "Forgive me if I stop short of that pious hope." Alain 
 hesitated, let his venom get the better of him, and spat out 
 an obscure curse on his uncle's memory, which only betrayed 
 the essential weakness of the man. Eecovering himself, 
 he went on : ''I need not recall to you a certain scene (I 
 confess too theatrical for my taste) arranged by the lawyer 
 at his bedside ; nor need I help you to an inkling of the 
 contents of his last will. But possibly it may have slipped 
 your memory that I gave Romaine fair warning, I prom- 
 ised him that I would raise the question of undue influ- 
 ence, and that I had my witnesses ready. I have added to 
 them since, but I own to you that my case will be the 
 stronger when you have obligingly signed the paper which 
 I have the honour to submit to you." And he tossed it^ 
 unopened, across the table.
 
 420 ST. IVES 
 
 I picked it up and unfolded it : — 
 
 7, the Viscount Anne de Keronal de Saint Yves, formerly serving 
 under the name of Champdivers, in the Buonapartist army, and later 
 ■under that name a prisoner of war, in the Castle of Edinburgh, hereby 
 state that I had neither knoivledge of my uncle the Count de Keroxtal de 
 Saint Yves, nor expectations from, him, nor was owned by him, until 
 sought out by Mr. Daniel Romaine, in the Castle of Edinburgh, by him 
 supplied with money to expedite my escape, and by him clandestinely 
 smuggled at nightfall into Amersham Place; Further, that until that 
 evening I had never set eyes on my Uncle, nor have set eyes on him 
 since ; that he was bedridden when I saw him, and, apparently in the 
 last stage of senile decay. And I have reason to believe that Air. 
 Romaine did not fully inform him of the circumstances of my escape, 
 and particularly of my concern in the death of a fellow prisoner named 
 Goguelat, formerly a marechal des logis in the 22nd regiment of the 
 line. 
 
 Of the contents of this precious document let a sample 
 suffice. From end to end it was a tissue of distorted state- 
 ments implicated with dishonouring suggestions. 1 read it 
 through, and let it drop on the table. 
 
 ''I beg your pardon/' said I, '' but what do you wish me 
 to do with it?" 
 
 '' Sign it," said he. 
 
 I laughed. '* Once more I beg your pardon, but though 
 you have apparently dressed for it, this is not comic opera." 
 
 *' Nevertheless, you will sign." 
 
 *' 0, you weary me." I seated myself, and flung a leg 
 over the arm of my chair. " Shall we come to the alter- 
 native ? For I assume you have one." 
 
 " The alternative ? — to be sure," he answered cheerfully. 
 *' I have a companion below, one Clausel, and at the Tete 
 d'Or, a little down the street, an escort of police." 
 
 Here was a pleasing predicament. But if Alain had 
 started with a chance of daunting me (which I do not ad- 
 mit) he had spoilt it long since by working on the raw of
 
 ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CAED 421 
 
 my temper. X kept a steady eye on him, and considered ; 
 and the longer I considered the better assured was I that 
 his game must have a disastrously weak point somewhere, 
 which it was my business to find. 
 
 " You have reminded me of your warning to Mr. Eo- 
 maine. The subject is an ugly one for two of our family 
 to touch upon ; but do you happen to recall Mr. Eomaine's 
 counter- threat ? " 
 
 " Bluff ! my young sir. It served his purpose for the 
 moment, I grant you. I was unhinged — the indignity, the 
 very monstrosity of it, the baselessness staggered reason." 
 
 "It was baseless, then ?" 
 
 " The best proof is, that in spite of his threat, and my 
 open contempt and disregard of it, Mr. Eomaine has not 
 stirred a hand." 
 
 " You mean that my uncle destroyed the evidence ? " 
 
 ** I mean nothing of the kind," he retorted hotly, " for 
 I deny that any such evidence at any time existed." 
 
 I kept my eye on him. "Alain," I said quietly, "you 
 are a liar." 
 
 A flush darkened his face beneath its cosmetics, and with 
 an oath he dipped finger and thumb into his waistcoat 
 pocket and pulled out a dog-whistle. " No more of that," 
 said he, "or I whistle up the police this minute." 
 
 " Well, well, let us resume the discussion. You say this 
 man Clausel has denounced me ? " 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " Soldiers of the Empire are cheap in Paris just now." 
 
 " So cheap that public opinion would be content if all 
 the Messieurs Champdivers were to kill all the Messieurs 
 Goguelat and be shot or guillotined for it. I forget which 
 your case demands, and doubt if public opinion would 
 inquire." 
 
 "And yet," I mused, " there must be preliminaries, some
 
 422 ST. IVES 
 
 form of trial, for instance, with witnesses. It is even pos- 
 sible that I might be found innocent." 
 
 "I have allowed for that unlikely chance, and I look 
 beyond it. To be frank, it does not strike me as prol)able 
 that a British jury will hand over the estates of the Comte 
 de KSroual de Saint Yves to an escaped Buonapartist 
 prisoner who has stood his trial for the murder of a com- 
 rade, and received the benefit of the doubt." 
 
 "Allow me," said I, "^to open the window an inch or 
 two. No, put back your whistle, I do not propose to fling 
 you out — at least not just yet ; nor will I try to escape. To 
 tell you the truth, you suggest the need of a little fresh 
 air. And now. Monsieur, you assure me you hold the 
 knave in your hand. Well, then, play him. Before I tear 
 your foolish paper up, let me have a look at your con- 
 federate." I stepped to the door and called down the 
 stairs, ''Madame Jupille, be so good as to ask my other 
 visitor to ascend." 
 
 With that I turned to the window again and stood there 
 looking out upon the foul gutter along which the refuse of 
 some dye-works at the head of the street found its Avay 
 down to the Seine. And standing so, I heard the expected 
 footsteps mounting the stairs. 
 
 ''I must ask your pardon. Monsieur, for this intru- 
 sion " 
 
 " Hey ! " If the words had been a charge of shot fired 
 into my back, I could not have spun round on them more 
 suddenly. " Mr. Komaine ! " 
 
 For indeed it was he, and not Clausel, who stood in the 
 doorway. And to this day I do not know if Alain or I 
 stared at him with the blanker bewilderment, though I be- 
 lieve there was a significant difference in our comj^lexions. 
 
 " M. the Viscount," said Romaine advancing, " re- 
 cently effected an exchange. I have taken the liberty to 
 effect another, and have left Mr. Clausel below listening to
 
 ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CAED 4:23 
 
 some arguments which are being addressed to him by Mr. 
 Dudgeon, my confidential clerk. I think I may promise '^ 
 — with a chuckle — "they will prove effectual. By your 
 faces, gentlemen, I see that you regard my appearance as 
 something in the nature of a miracle. Yet, M. le Vis- 
 count, at least, should be guessing by this time that it is the 
 simplest, most natural affair in the world. I engaged my 
 word, sir, to have you watched. Will it be set down to 
 more than ordinary astuteness that, finding you in nego- 
 tiations for the exchange of the prisoner Clausel — we kept 
 an eye upon him also — that we followed him to Dover, and 
 though unfortunate in missing the boat, reached Paris in 
 time to watch the pair of you leave your lodgings this 
 morning — nay, that, knowing whither you were bound, we 
 reached the Kue du Fouarre in time to watch you making 
 your dispositions ? But I run on too fast, Mr. Anne ; I am 
 entrusted with a letter for you. When, with Mr. Alain's 
 permission, you have read it, we will resume our little con- 
 versation.*' 
 
 He handed me the letter and walked to the fireplace, 
 where he took snuff copiously, while Alain eyed him like a 
 mastiff about to spring. I broke open my letter and 
 stooped to pick up a small enclosure which fell from it. 
 
 My Dearest Anne, — 
 
 "When your letter came and put life into me again, I sat down in my 
 happiness and wrote you one that I shall never allow you to see ; for it 
 makes me wonder at myself. But when I took it to Mr. Robbie, he 
 asked to see your letter, and when I showed him the wrapper^ declared 
 that it had been tampered with, and if I wrote and told you what we 
 were doing for you it might only make your enemies the wiser. For 
 we have done something, and this (which is purely a business letter) is 
 to tell you that the credit does not all belong to Mr. Robbie, or to your 
 Mr. Romaine (who, by Mr. Robbie's account, must be quite a tiresome 
 old gentleman, though well-meaning, no doubt). But on the Tues- 
 day after you left us I had a talk with Major Chevenix, and when I
 
 424 ST. IVES 
 
 really felt quite sorry for him (though it was no tiso, and I told hiM so) 
 he turned round in a way I could not but admire and said he wished me 
 well, and would prove it. He said the charge against you was really 
 one for the military authorities alone, that he had reasons for feeling 
 sure that you had been drawn into this affair on a point of honour, 
 which was quite a different thing from what they said ; and that he 
 could not only make an affidavit or something of the kind on his own 
 account, but knew enough of that man Clausel to make him confess 
 the truth. "Which he did the very next day, and made Clausel sign it ; 
 and Mr. Robbie has a copy of the man's statement which he is sending 
 with this to Mr. Romaine in London ; and that is the reason why Row- 
 ley (who is a dear) has come over, and is waiting in the kitchen while I 
 write these hurried lines. lie says, too, that Major Chevenii was only 
 just in time, since Clausel's friends are managing an exchange for him, 
 and he is going back to France. And so in haste I write myself. 
 
 Year sincere friend, 
 
 Flora. 
 
 P.S. — My aunt is well; Ronald is expecting his commission. 
 
 P.P.S.— You told me to write it, and so I must : " I love you, Anne.** 
 
 The enclosure was a note in a large and unformed hand, 
 and ran : 
 
 Dear Mr. Aiwe, Respected Sir, 
 
 This conies hopeing to find you well as it leaves me at present, all is 
 well as Miss Flora will tell you that double-died Clausel has confest. 
 This is to tell you Mrs. MacR. is going on nicely, bar the religion which 
 Is only put on to anoy people and being a widow who blames her, not 
 me. Miss Flora says she will put this in witli hers, and there is some- 
 thing else but it is a dead secret, so no more at present from, sir ; 
 
 Yours Respectfully, 
 
 Jas. Rowly. 
 
 Having read these letters through, I placed them in my 
 breast-pocket, stepped to the table and handed Alain's 
 document gravely back to him ; then turned to Mr. Ro- 
 maine, who shut his snuff-box with a snap. 
 
 ** It only remains, I think," said the lawyer, "to discusa 
 the terms which (merely as a matter of generosity, or, say.
 
 ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 425 
 
 for the credit of yonr house) can be granted to your — to 
 Mr. Alain/' 
 
 '' You forget Clausel, I think/' snarled my cousin. 
 
 ''^True, I had forgotten Clausel." Mr. Romaine stepped 
 to the head of the stairs and called down, " Dudgeon ! " 
 
 Mr. Dudgeon appeared, and endeavoured to throw into 
 the stiffness of his salutation a denial that he had ever 
 waltzed with me in the moonlight. 
 
 *' Where is the man Clausel ? " 
 
 " I hardly know, sir, if you would place the wineshop 
 of the Tpte d'Or at the top or the bottom of this street ; I 
 presume the top, since the sewer runs in the opposite direc- 
 tion. At all events, Mr. Clausel disappeared about two 
 minutes ago in the same direction as the sewer." 
 
 Alain sprang njo, whistle in liand. 
 
 " Put it down," said Mr. Romaine ; *' the man was cheat- 
 ing you. S can only hope," he added with a sour smile, 
 **that you paid him on account with an I. 0. U." 
 
 But Alain turned at bay. " One trivial point seems to 
 have escaped you. Master Attorney, or your courage is 
 more than I give you credit for. The English are none 
 too popular in Paris as yet, and this is not the most scrupu- 
 lous quarter. One blast of this whistle, a cry of " Esinon 
 anglais," and two Englishmen " 
 
 " Say three," Mr. Romaine interrupted, and strode to 
 the door. *' Will Mr. Burchell Fenn be good enough to 
 step upstairs." 
 
 And here let me cry " Halt ! '* There are things in this 
 world — or that is my belief — too pitiful to be set down in 
 writing, and of these Alain's collapse Avas one. It may be, 
 too, that Mr. Romaine's British righteousness accorded 
 rather ill with the weapon he used so unsparingly. Of 
 Fenn I need only say chat the luscious rogue shouldered 
 through the doorway as though he had a public duty to
 
 426 ST. IVES 
 
 discbarge and only the contrariness of circumstances had 
 prevented his discharging it before. He cringed to Mr. 
 Ilomaine, who held him and the whole nexus of his vil- 
 lainies in the hollow of his band ; he was even obsequiously 
 eager to denounce his fellow traitor. Under a like com- 
 pulsion, he would (I feel sure) have denounced his own 
 mother. I saw the sturdy Dudgeon's mouth working like 
 a bull terrier's over a shrew mouse. And between them, 
 Alain had never a chance. Not for the first time in this 
 history, I found myself all but taking sides with him in 
 sheer repulsion against the barbarity of the attack. It 
 seemed that it was through Fenn that Mr. Romaine had 
 first happened on the scent ; and the greater rogue had 
 held back a part of the evidence and would trade it now — 
 " having been led astray — to any gentleman that would 
 let bygones be bygones.'' And it was I at length who in- 
 terposed when my cousin was beaten to his knees, and hav- 
 ing dismissed Mr. Burchell Fenn, restored the discussion to 
 a business-like footing. The end of it was that Alain re- 
 nounced all his claims, and accepted a yearly pension of 
 six thousand francs. Mr. Eomaine made it a condition 
 that he should never set foot again in England ; but see- 
 ing that he would certainly be arrested for debt within 
 twenty-four hours of his landing at Dover, I thought this 
 unnecessary. 
 
 " A good day's work," said the lawyer, as we stood to- 
 gether in the street outside. 
 
 But I was silent. 
 
 **And now, Mr. Anne, if I may have the honour of 
 your company at dinner — shall we say Tortoni's ? — we will 
 on our way step round to my hotel, the Quatre Saisons, 
 behind the Hotel de Ville, and order a caleche and four to 
 be in readiness."
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 I GO TO CLAIM FLORA 
 
 Behold me now speeding northwards on the wings of 
 love, ballasted by Mr. Eomaine. But indeed, that worthy 
 man climbed into the caleche with something less than his 
 habitual gravity. He was obviously and pardonably flushed 
 with triumph. I observed that now and again he smiled 
 to himself in the twilight, or drew in his breath and 
 emitted it with a martial pouf! And when he began to 
 talk — which he did as soon as we were clear of the Saint 
 Denis barrier — the points of the family lawyer were un- 
 trussed. He leaned back in the caleche with the air of a 
 man who had subscribed to the Peace of Europe and dined 
 well on top of it. He criticised the fortifications with a 
 wave of his toothpick, and discoursed derisively and at 
 large on the Emperor's abdication, on the treachery of the 
 Duke of Ragusa, on the prospects of the Bourbons, and on 
 the character of M. Talleyrand, with anecdotes which made 
 up in raciness for what they lacked in authenticity. 
 
 We were bowling through La Chapelle when he pulled 
 out his snufp-box and proffered it. 
 
 " Yon are silent, Mr. Anne." 
 
 " I was waiting for the chorus," said I. " ' Rule, Britan- 
 nia ! Britannia rules the waves : and Britons never, 
 never, never — ' Come, out with it ! " 
 
 "Well," he retorted, "p^dlh"^ the tune will come 
 natural to you before long 
 
 427
 
 428 ST. IVES 
 
 " 0, give me time, my dear sir ! I have seen the Cos- 
 sacks enter Paris, and tlie Parisians decorate their poodles 
 ndth the Cross of the Legion of Honour. I have seen 
 them hoist a wretch on the Vendome Column to smite the 
 bronze face of the man of Austerlitz. I have seen the 
 salle of the Opera rise to applaud a blatant fat fellow sing- 
 ing the praises of the Prussian — and to the tune of ' Vive 
 Henri Quatre ! ' I have seen, in my cousin Alain, of what 
 tbe best blood in France is capable. Also I have seen 
 peasant boys — unripe crops of the later levies — mown down 
 by grape-shot, raise themselves on their elbows to cheer 
 for France and the little man in gray. In time, Mr. Ro- 
 maine, no doubt my memory will confuse these lads with 
 their betters, and their mothers with the ladies of the salle 
 de V opera, just as in time, no doubt, I shall find myself Jus- 
 tice of the Peace and Deputy Lieutenant of the shire of 
 Buckingham. I am changing my country, as you remind 
 me, and, on my faith, she has no place for me. But for 
 the sake of her I have explored and found the best of her 
 — in my new conntry^s prisons. And I repeat, you must 
 give me time."" 
 
 '' Tut, tut ! " was his comment, as I searched for tinder- 
 box and sulphur match to relight my cigar. *'We must 
 get you into Parliament, Mr. Anne. You have the 
 gift.- 
 
 As we approached Saint Denis the flow of his discourse 
 sensibly slackened, and, a little beyond, he pulled his trav- 
 elling-cap over his ears and settled down to slumber. I sat 
 wide-awake beside him. The spring night had a touch of 
 chill in it, and the breath of our horses streaming back 
 upon the lamps of the caUche kept a constant nimbus be- 
 tween me and the postilions. Above it, and over the 
 black spires of the poplar avenues, the regiments of stars 
 moved in parade. My gaze went up to the ensign of their
 
 I GO TO CLAIM FLORA 429 
 
 noiseless evolutions, to the pole-star, and to Cassiopeia 
 swinging beneath it, low in the north, over my Flora's pil- 
 low — my pole-star and journey's end. 
 
 Under this soothing reflection I composed myself to 
 slumber, and awoke, to my surprise and annoyance, in a 
 miserable flutter of the nerves. And this fretf uluess in- 
 creased with the hours, so that from Amiens to the coast 
 Mr. Eomaine must have had the devil of a time with me. 
 I bolted my meals at the way-houses, chafing all the while 
 at the business of the relays. I popped up and down in 
 the caUche like a shot on a hot shovel. I cursed our pace. 
 I girded at the lawyer's snuff-box and could have called 
 him out upon Calais sands, when we reached them, to jus- 
 tify his vile, methodical use of it. By good fortune we 
 arrived to find the packet ready with her warps, and bun- 
 dled ourselves on board in a hurry. AVe sought separate 
 cabins for the night, and in. mine, as in a sort of moral 
 bath, the drastic cross seas of the Channel cleansed me of 
 my irritable humour and left me like a rag beaten and 
 huna: on a clothes-line to the winds of heaven. 
 
 In the grey of the morning we disembarked at Dover, 
 and here Mr. Eomaine had prepared a surprise for me. 
 For as we drew to the shore and the throng of porters and 
 ■waterside loafers, on what should my gaze alight but the 
 beaming countenance of Mr. Eowley ! I declare it com- 
 municated a roseate flush to the pallid cliffs of Albion. I 
 could have fallen on his neck. On his side the honest lad 
 kept touching his hat and grinning in a speechless ecstasy. 
 As he confessed to me later, " It was either hold my 
 tongue, sir, or call for three cheers." He snatched my 
 valise and ushered us through the crowd to our hotel 
 breakfast. And it seemed he must have filled up his time 
 at Dover with trumpetings of our importance, for the land- 
 lord welcomed us on the perron, obsequiouslv cringing.
 
 430 ST. ivEa 
 
 We entered in a respectful hush that might have flattered 
 His Grace of Wellington himself ; and the waiters, I be- 
 lieve, would have gone on all fours but for the difficulty 
 of reconciling that posture with efficient service. I knew 
 myself at last for a Personage ; a great English landowner, 
 and did my best to command the mien proper to that tre- 
 mendous class when, the meal despatched, we passed out 
 between the bowing ranks to the door where our chaise 
 stood ready. 
 
 *' But hullo I" said I at sight of it, and my eye sought 
 Rowley's. 
 
 ** Begging your pardon, sir, but I took it on myself to 
 order the colour, and hoping it wasn't a liberty." 
 
 *' Claret and invisible green — a duplicate, but for a 
 bullet-hole wanting." 
 
 " Which I didn't like to go so far on my own hook, Mr. 
 Anne." 
 
 '' We fight under the old colours, my lad." 
 
 ** And walk in and win this time, sir, strike me lucky ! " 
 
 While we bowled along the first stage towards London — 
 Mr. Eomaine and I within the chaise and Eowley perched 
 upon the dickey — I told the lawyer of our progress from 
 Aylesbury to Kirkby-Lonsdale. He took snuff. 
 
 "Forsitan et Imc olim — that Rowley of yours seems a 
 good hearted lad, and less of a fool than he looks. The 
 next time I have to travel post with an impatient lover I'll 
 take a leaf out of his book and buy me a flageolet." 
 
 " Sir, it was ungrateful of me " 
 
 "Tut, tut, Mr. Anne. I was fresh from my little tri- 
 umph, that is all, and perhaps would have felt the better 
 for a word of approbation — a little pat on the back, as I 
 may say. It is not often that I have felt the need of it — 
 twice or thrice in my life, perhaj^s ; not often enough to 
 justify my anticipating y^zi example and seeking a wife
 
 I GO TO CLAIM FLORA 431 
 
 betimes, for that is a man's one cliance if he wants another 
 to taste his snccess.'* 
 
 "And yet I dare swear you rejoice in mine, unselfishly 
 enough/^ 
 
 " Why, no, sir ; your cousin would have sent me to the 
 right-about within a week of his succession. Still, I own 
 to you that he offended something at least as deep as self- 
 interest ; the sight and scent of him habitually turned my 
 gorge ; whereas " — and he inclined to me with a dry smile 
 — " your unwisdom at least was amiable, and — in short, 
 sir, though you can be infernally provoking, it has been a 
 pleasure to serve you." 
 
 You may be sure that this did not lessen my contrition. 
 We reached London late that night, and here Mr. Eomaine 
 took leave of us. Business waited for him at Amersham 
 Place. After a few hours' sleep, Rowley woke me to choose 
 between two post-boys in blue jackets and white hats and 
 two in buff jackets and black hats, who were comjoeting for 
 the honour of conveying us as far as Barnet, and having de- 
 cided in favour of the blue-and-white, and solaced the buff- 
 and-black with apourboire, we pushed forward once more. 
 
 We were now upon tlie Great North Road, along which 
 the York mail rolled its steady ten miles an hour, to the 
 wafted music of the guard's bugle — a rate of speed which, to 
 the more Dorian mood of Mr. Rowley's flageolet, I proposed 
 to better by one-fifth. But first, having restored the lad 
 to his old seat beside me, I must cross-qr.estion him upon 
 his adventures in Edinburgh and the latest news of Flora 
 and her aunt, Mr. Robbie, Mrs. McRankine, and the rest of 
 my friends. It came out that Mr. Rowley's surrender to 
 my dear girl had been both instantaneous and complete. 
 '' She is a floorer, Mr. Anne. I suj)pose now, sir, you'll 
 be standing up for that knock-me-down kind of thing ?" 
 
 " Explain yourself, my lad."
 
 432 ST. IVES 
 
 *' Beg your pardon, sir, what tliey call love at first 
 sight." He Avore an ingenuous blush and an expression at 
 once shy and insinuating. 
 
 ''The poets, Rowley, are on my side." 
 
 '' Mrs. McRankine, sir " 
 
 " The Queen of Navarre, Mr. Eowley " 
 
 But he so far forgot himself as to interrupt — " It took 
 Mrs. McRankine years, sir, to get used to her first hus- 
 band. She told me so." 
 
 " It took us some days, if I remember, to get used to 
 Mrs. McRankine. To be sure, her cooking " 
 
 " That's what I say, Mr. Anne ; it's more than skin- 
 deep. And you'll hardly believe me, sir — that is, if you 
 didn't take note of it — but she hev got an ankle." 
 
 He had produced the pieces of his flageolet and was ad- 
 justing them nervously, with a face red as a turkey-cock's 
 wattles. I regarded him with a new and incredulous 
 amusement. That I served Mr. Rowley for a glass of fash- 
 ion and a mould of form was, of course, no new discov- 
 ery, and the traditions of body-service allow, nay, enjoin, 
 that when the gentleman goes a- wooing the valet shall take 
 a sympathetic wound. What, too, could be more natural 
 than that a gentleman of sixteen should select a lady of 
 fifty for his first essay in the tender passion. Still — Bcthiah 
 McRankine ! 
 
 I kept my countenance with an effort. " Mr, Rowley," 
 said I, '* if music be the food of love, play on." And Mr. 
 Rowley gave " The Girl I Left Behind Me," shyly at first, 
 but anon with terrific expression. He broke off with a 
 slight " Heigho ! " in fact, said Rowley, and started off 
 again, while I tapped out the time, and hummed : 
 
 *' But now I'm bound for Brighton camp — 
 Kind heaven then pray guide me, 
 And send me safely back again 
 To the Girl I left behind me I "
 
 I GO TO CLAIM FLORA 433 
 
 Thenceforward that not nninspiriting air became the 
 motif of our progress. We never tired of it. Whenever 
 our conversation flagged, by tacit consent Mr. Rowley 
 pieced his flageolet together and started it. The horses 
 lilted it out in their gallop : the harness jingled, the pos- 
 tilions tittupped to it. And the presto with which it 
 wound up as we came to a post-house and a fresh relay of 
 horses, had to be heard to be believed. 
 
 So with the chaise windows open to the vigorous airs of 
 spring, and my own breast like a window flung wide to 
 youth and health and hapjDy expectations, I rattled home- 
 wards ; impatient as a lover should be, yet not too im- 
 patient to taste the humour of spinning like a lord, with a 
 pocketful of money, along the road which the ci-devant M. 
 Champdivers had so fearfully dodged and skirted in Bur- 
 chell Fenn's covered cart. 
 
 And yet so impatient, that when we galloped over the 
 Calton Hill and down into Edinburgh by the new London 
 road, with the wind in our faces and a sense of April in it, 
 brisk and jolly, I must pack off Eowley to our lodgings 
 with the valises, and stay only for a wash and breakfast at 
 Dumbreck's before posting on to Swanston alone. 
 
 " Whene'er my steps return that way, 
 Still faithful shall she find me. 
 And never more again I'll stray 
 From the Girl I left behind me." 
 
 Where the gables of the cottage rose into view over the 
 
 hilFs shoulder I dismissed my driver and walked forward, 
 
 whistling the tune : but fell silent as I came under the lee 
 
 of the garden wall, and sought for the exact spot of my old 
 
 escalade. I found it by the wide beechen branches over 
 
 the road, and hoisted myself noiselessly up to the coping, 
 
 where, as before, they screened me — or would have screened 
 
 ID'5 kad I cared to wait. 
 28
 
 434 ST. IVES 
 
 But I did not care to wait ; and why ? Because, not fif- 
 teen yards from me she stood ! — she, my Flora, my goddess, 
 bare-headed, swept by chequers of morning sunshine and 
 green shadows, with the dew on lier sandal shoes and the 
 lap of her morning gown appropriately heaped with flowers 
 — with tulips, scarlet, yellow, and striped. And confront- 
 ing her, with his back towards me and a remembered patch 
 between the armholes of his stable-waistcoat, Robie the 
 gardener rested both hands on his spade and expostulated. 
 
 *' But I like to pick my tulips leaves and all, Eobie ! " 
 
 " Aweel, miss ; it's clean ruinin' the bulbs, that's all I 
 say to you." 
 
 And that was all I waited to hear. As he bent over and 
 resumed his digging I shook a branch of the beech with 
 both hands and set it swaying. She heard the rustle and 
 glanced up and, spying me, uttered a gasping little cry. 
 
 " What ails ye, miss ? " Eobie straightened himself in- 
 stanter ; but she had Avhipped right-about face and was 
 gazing towards the kitchen garden : 
 
 ''Isn't that a child among the arti — the strawberry-beds, 
 I mean ? " 
 
 He cast down his spade and ran. She turned, let the 
 tulips fall at her feet, and, ah ! her second cry of gladness, 
 and her heavenly blush as she stretched out both arms to 
 me. It was all happening over again — with the difference 
 that now my arms too were stretched out. 
 
 *' Journeys end in lovers meeting, 
 Every wise man's son doth know. . . ." 
 
 Robie had run a dozen yards perhaps, when either the 
 noise I made in scrambling off the wall, or some recollec- 
 tion of having been served in this way before, brought 
 him to a halt. At any rate he turned round, and just in 
 time to witness our embrace.
 
 I GO TO CLAIM FLORA 435 
 
 (t 
 
 The good Lord behear \" he exclaimed, stood stock- 
 Btill for a moment, aud waddled ofE at top speed towards 
 the back door. 
 
 ** We must tell Annt at once ! She will — why, Anne, 
 where are you going ? " She caught my sleeve. 
 
 " To the hen-house, to be sure," said I. 
 
 A moment later, with peals of happy laughter we had 
 taken hands and were running along the garden alleys tow- 
 ards the house. And I remember, as we ran, finding it 
 somewhat singular that this should be the first time 
 I had ever invaded Swanston Cottage by way of the front 
 door. 
 
 We came upon Mrs. Gilchrist in the breakfast-room. A 
 pile of linen lay on the horse-hair sofa, and the good lady, 
 with a measuring-tape in one hand and a pair of scissors 
 in the other, was walking around Eonald, who stood on 
 the hearthrug in a very manly attitude. She regarded me 
 over her gold-rimmed spectacles, and, shifting the scissors 
 into her left hand, held out her right. 
 
 " H'm," said she ; " I give ye good-morning, Mosha. 
 And what might you be wanting of us this time ?" 
 
 " Madam," I answered, " that I hope, is fairly evL 
 dent." 
 
 Eonald came forward. **I congratulate you, Saint- 
 Yves, with all my heart. And you may congratulate me : 
 I have my commission." 
 
 ** Nay, then," said I, " let me rather congratulate France 
 that the war is over. Seriously, my dear fellow, I wish 
 you joy. What's the regiment ?** 
 
 ** The 4th." 
 
 " Chevenix's ! " 
 
 "Chevenix is a decent fellow. He has behayed Tery 
 well, indeed he has." 
 
 " Very well indeed," said Flora, nodding her head.
 
 436 ST. IVES 
 
 " He has tlie knack. But if yon expect me to like liim 
 any the better for it " 
 
 ''Major Chevenix/' put in Miss Gilchrist, in her most 
 rhadamanthine voice, "always sets me in mind of a pair of 
 scissors.^* She opened and shut the pair in her hand, and 
 I had to confess that the stiff and sawing action was ad- 
 mirably illustrative. 
 
 *'But I wish to heaven, madam," thought I, "you 
 could have chosen another simile ! " 
 
 In the evening of that beatific day I walked back to 
 Edinburgh by some aerial and rose-clouded path not in- 
 dicated on the maps. It led somehow to my lodgings, and 
 my feet touched earth when the door was opened to me by 
 Bethiah McRankine. 
 
 " But where is Rowley ?" I asked a moment later, look- 
 ing round my sitting-room. 
 
 Mrs. McRankine smiled sardonically. "Him? He came 
 back rolling his ejes so that I guessed him to be troubled 
 in the wind. And he's in bed this hour past with a spoon- 
 ful of peppermint in his little wame." 
 
 And here I may ring down the curtain upon the advent- 
 ures of Anne de Saint- Yves. . 
 
 Flora and I were married early in June, and had been 
 settled for little over six months amid the splendours of 
 Amersham Place when news came of the Emperor's es- 
 cape from Elba. Throughout the consequent alarums and 
 excursions of the Hundred Days (as M. de Chambord 
 named them for us) I have to confess that the Vicomte 
 Anne sat still and warmed his hands at the domestic hearth. 
 To be sure, Napoleon had been my master, and I had no love 
 for the cocarde hlanche. But here was I, an Englishman, 
 alread'' in legal but inaccurate phrase, a "naturalised'*
 
 I GO TO CLAIM FLORA 437 
 
 one, taving, as Mr. Eomaine put it, a stake in the conntry, 
 not to speak of a growing interest in its game-laws and the 
 local administration of justice. In short, here was a situa- 
 tion to tickle a casuist. It did not, I may say, tickle me in 
 the least, but played the mischief with my peacco If you, 
 my friends, having weighed the pro and contra, would have 
 counselled inaction, possibly allowing for the Mhetude de 
 foyer and the fact that Flora was soon to become a mother, 
 you might have predicted it. At any rate, I sat still and 
 read the newspapers ; and on the top of them came a letter 
 from Eonald, announcing that the 4th had their march* 
 ing, or rather their sailing, orders, and that within a week 
 his boat would rock by the pier of Leith to convey him 
 and his comrades to join the Duke of Wellington's forces 
 m the Low Countries. Forthwith, nothing would suit my 
 dear girl but we must post to Edinburgh to bid him fare- 
 well — in a chariot, this time, with a box seat for her maid 
 and Mr. Rowley. We reached Swanston in time for Eonald 
 to spend the eve of his departure with us at the cottage ; 
 and very gallant the boy looked in his scarlet uniform, 
 which he wore for the ladies' benefit, and which (God 
 forgive ns men !) they properly bedewed with their tears. 
 
 Early next morning we drove over to the city and drew 
 up in the thick of the crowd gathered at the foot of the 
 Castle Hill to see the 4th march out. We had waited half 
 an hour, perhaps, when we heard two thumps of a drum 
 and the first notes of the regimental quick-step sounded 
 within the walls ; the sentry at the outer gate stepped back 
 and presented arms, and the ponderous archway grew 
 bright with the red coats and brazen instruments of the 
 band. The farewells on their side had been said ; and the 
 inexorable tramp-tramp upon the drawbridge was the 
 burthen of their answer to the waving handkerchiefs, 
 the huzzas of the citizens, the cries of the women. On
 
 438 ST. IVES 
 
 they came, and in the first rank, behind the band, rose 
 Major Chevenix. He saw us, flushed a little, and gravely 
 saluted. I never liked the man ; but Avill admit he made 
 a fine figure there. And I pitied him a little ; for while 
 his eyes rested on Flora, hers wandered to the rear of the 
 third company, where Ensign Eonald Gilchrist marched 
 beside the tattered colours, with chin held high and a high 
 colour on his young cheeks and a lip that quivered as he 
 passed us. 
 
 " God bless you, Ronald \" 
 
 *' Left wheel ! " The band and the Major riding behind 
 't swung round the corner into North Bridge Street ; the 
 rear rank and the adjutant behind it passed up the Lawn- 
 market. Our driver was touching up his horses to follow, 
 when Flora's hand stole into mine. And I turned from 
 my own conflicting thoughts to comfort her.
 
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