Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2008 witii funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation littp://www.arcliive.org/details/advenstivesbeingOOstevriGli St. Ives Ipopular Sir SIMIlino Boveli? Edward Bellamy KijUALITY Hall Caine The Christian The Manxman The Scapegoat The Bondman Richard Harding Davis Soldiers ok Fortune Harold Frederic Illumination Sarah Grand The Heavenly Twins Ideala Our Manifold Nature M. Hamilton IMcLeod of the Camerons A Selk-Denying Ordinance Robert Hichens ' The Folly of Eustace An Imaginative Man Annie E. Holdsworth The Gods Arrive The Years that the Locust hath Eaten Henry James What Maisie Knew ' The Other House The Spoils of Povnton Embarrassments Terminations W. E. Norris Marietta's Marriage The Dancer in Yellow A Victim of Good Luck The Countess Radna Flora Annie Steel In the Permanent Way On the Face of the Waters The Potter's Thumb From the Five Rivers Robert Louis Stevenson St. Ivks The Em; Tide E. L. Voynich The Gadfly I. Zangwill The Master The King of Schnorrers Children op the Ghhtto The Premier and the Painter LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN 21 Bedford Street, W.C. Auii all Booksellers ar.d Bookstalls St. Ives The following tale u-a.s taken down from Mr. Stevenson' ■■< flirta- tion by his stepdaughter and amanuensis, J/?'.y. Strong, at intervals between January 1893 and October 1894 (see Vuilima Letters, /)/). 242-2-±(;, 299, 824, 334 and 350). About si.r icerks before his death he laid the story aside to take up A\'eir of Hermiston. The thirty chapters of St. Ives whi'-h he hud written (the last few of them apjxircnfly unrerised) brought the tale irithiii sight of its conclusion, and the intended 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 delicate task of supplying the missing chapters has been entrusted to Mr. (/uiller-Couch, whose work begins at Chap. XXXI. [S. C] St. Ives Being The Adventures of a French Prisoner in England By Robert Louis Stevenson London W^illiam Heinemann 1S98 l^l->,-2^^^ XL8 6246 A// ?-!^liis reserx'ed O N T E N T S n,^ ^ T^J I, A TALE OF A LIOX RAMPANT II. A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSORS III. MAJOR CHEVE.VIX CO.MES INTO THE STORY, AND GOttUELAT GOES OIT ...... IV. ST. IVES GETS A BUXDLE OF BANK NOTES V. ST IVES IS SHOWN A HOUSE . VI. THE ESCAPE ..... VII. SWANSTOX COTTAGE .... VIII. THE HEN-IIOUSE ..... IX. THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE X'. THE DROVERS ..... XI. THE GREAT NORTH ROAD XII. I FOLLOW A COVERED CART NEARLY TO MY DESTINATION XIII. I MEET TWO OF MY COVNTRYMEN XIV. TRAVELS OF THE COVERED CART XV. THE ADVENTURE OF THE ATTORNEv's CLERK XVI. THE HOME-COMING OF MR. ROM LEY's VISCOUN XVII. THE DESPATCH-BOX .... XVIII. MR. ROMAINE CALLS ME NAMES XIX. THE DEAIL AND ALL AT AMERSHAM PLACE XX. AFTER THE STORM .... ^2^ PAGE I 17 ^5 31 37 45 51 56 66 75 84 93 100 106 118 125 132 140 148 VI CHAP. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. XXVII. XXVIII. XXIX. XXX. CONTENTS I BECOME THE OWNER OF A CLARET-COLOURED CHAISE . 1 56 CHARACTER AND ACQUIREMENTS OF MR. ROWLEY . . I64 THE ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE . . . 1 72 THE INN-KEEPER OF KIRKBY-LONSDALE . I Si I MEET A CHEERFUL EXTRAVAGANT . . . IS7 THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT . . . . -193 THE SABBATH DAY ....... 20I EVENTS OF MONDAY: THE LAWYEr's ]'AR1\ . . . 209 EVENTS OF TUESDAY: THE TOILS CLOSING . . . 2 20 EVENTS OF WEDNESDAY : THE UNIVERSITY OF CRA.MOND 2 ^O XXXI. EVENTS OF THURSDAY : THE ASSEMBLY BALL XXXII. EVENTS OF FRIDAY MORNING : THE CUTTING OF GORDIAN KNOt ..... XXXITI. THE INCOMPLETE AERONAUTS XXXIV. CAPTAIN COLENSO .... XXX\'. IN PARIS. ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD XXXVI. I GO TO CLAIM FLORA . . 239 252 262 277 292 304 St. Ives CHAPTER I A TALE OF A LION RAMPAXT It was in the mouth of May 1813 that I was so unlucky as to fall at last into the hands of the enemy. My knowledge of the English language had marked me out for a certain emploj-- ment. 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 prisoner 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 fellow-sufferers, all privates like myself, and the more part of them, by an accident, veiy ignorant, plain fellows. Mv 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, some- times 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 Avhich I was extremely proficient, and would reward me for my gambits with excellent cigars. The major of the battalion took lessons of French from me while at break- fast, and was sometimes so obliging as to have me join him at the meal. Chevenix was his name. He was stiff'as a drum- major and selfish as an Englishman, but a fairly conscientious pupil and a fairly upright man. Little did I suppose that his ramrod body and frozen face would, in the end, step in between me and all my dearest Avishes ; 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 A 2 ST. IVES is after all the next thing to being- in the nursery, they grow absorbed in the most pitiful, childish interests, and a sugar biscuit or a pinch of snuff become things to follow after and scheme for I We made but a poor show of prisoners. The officers liad 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 Emperor as best they might. It chanced I was the only gentleman among the privates who remained. A great part were ignorant Italians, of a regiment that had suffered heavily in Catalonia. The rest were mere diggers of the soil, treaders of grapes or hewers of wood, who had been suddenlv and violently preferred to the glorious state of soldiers. We had but the one interest in common : each of us 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 our distress, or — it is more tolerant to suppose — their own vicarious triumph. Some moved among us with a decency of shame or sympathy. Others were the most offensive personages in the 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 indifferent, there was one alleviation to the annoyance of these visitors; for it was the practice of almost all to purchase some specimen of our rude handiwork. This led, amongst the the prisoners, to a strong spirit of competition. Some Avere neat of hand, and (the genius of the French being alwavs dis- tinguished) could place upon sale little miracles of dexterity and taste. Some had a more engaging appearance ; fine features were found to do as well as fine merchandise^ and an air of youth in particular (as it appealed to the sentiment of ])ity 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 tliey 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 commerce, 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 approach of particular sorts of visitors, I had a particular manner of address, and even of appearance, which I could readilv assume and A TALE OF A LIOX BAMPANT 3 change on the occasion rising. I never lost an opportunity to flatter either tlie person of my visitor^ if it shonld be a lady^ or, if it shoiihl be a man^ the greatness of his country in war. And in case my compliments 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 fellow.' In this way, although I was so left-handed a toy- maker, I made out to be ratlier a successful merchant ; and found means to procure many little delicacies and alleviations, 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 medieeval fortress, high placed and commanding extra- ordinary prospects, not only over sea, mountain, and champaign but actually 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 lastlv, although I was not insensible to the restraints of prison or the scantiness of our rations, I remembered I had sometimes 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, Avas 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 malignant genius had found his masterpiece of irony . 1 the dress which we were condemned to wear : jacket, waist- coat, and trousers of a sulphur or mustard yellow, and a shirt or jlue-and-white striped cotton. It was conspicuous, it was heap, it pointed us out to laughter — we, who were old soldiers, 'ised to arms, and some of us showing noble scars, — like a set 01 lugubrious zanies at a fjiir. I'he old name of that rock on which our prison stood was (I have heard since then) the Painted 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 jf a lively picture of hell. I have again and again looked round 4 ST. IVES 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-sexgeant, 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 further 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 further on, and I am now upon another business. The perfidy of the Britannic Government stood nowhere more openly confessed than in one particular of our discipline : that we were shaved twice in the week. To a man Avho 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 beaut}', there would be no prayers addressed except to Venus ; and the mere privilege of beholding a cornel}^ woman is worth paying for. Our visitors, upon the whole, wei*e not much to boast of; and yet, sitting in a corner and very much ashamed of myself and my absurd appearance, 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 rejoice, mankind ! ■ There was one young lady in pai'ticular, about eighteen or nineteen, tall, of a gallant carriage, and with a profusion of hair in which the sun found threads of gold. As soon as she came in the courtyard (and she w^as 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 fla2:staff ; below us the smoke A TALE OF A LION RAMPANT S 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 Avas 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 ladj^'s face had become animated and coloured; and as I saw her standing, somewhat incHned, her lips parted, a divine trouble in her eyes, I could have clapped my hands in applause, and was ready to acclaim her a genuine daughter of the winds. What put it in my head, I know not : perhaps because it was a Thursday and I was new from the razor; but I determined to engage her attention no later than that day. She was approaching that part of the court in which I sat with my merchandise, when 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." ' ' Well,' she said, with a smile, ' " One good turn deserves another." I will see what you have.' She followed me to where my wares were spread out under 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 anything so funny to look at ? ' 6 ST. IVES An unjjleasant voice summoned her at this moment by the name of Flora^ and she made a hasty pui'chase and i-ejoined her party. A few days after she came again. But I must first tell you how she came to be so frequent. Her aunt was one of those terrible British old maids, of which the 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 insufferable airs of patronage and con- descension. She bought, indeed, with liberality, but her manner of studying us through a quizzing-glass, and playing cicerone to her followers, acquitted us of any gratitude. She had a tail behind her of heavy, obsequious old gentlemen, or dull, giggling misses, to Avhom she appeared to be an oracle. 'This one can really carve prettily: is he not a quiz with his big whiskers?' she would say. "^Aud this one,' indicating myself Avith 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, nodding around, and addressing us in what she imagined to be French : ' Bienne, homines ! ga vn hienne ? ' I took the freedom to reply in the same lingo : ' Biennc, fenime ! qa va couci-couci tout d'meme, la boiirgeoise ! ' And at that, when we had all laughed with a little more heartiness than was entirely civil, ' I 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 than 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 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 1 had watched her, I could not say her eyes had ever rested on me for an instant ; and my heart was over- whelmed with bittei-ness and blackness. I tore out her detested image ; I felt I was done with her for ever; I laughed at myself 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 I and how trivial her sex ! A man might be an angel or an Apollo, and a mustard-coloured coat A TALE OF A LION RAMPANT 7 would Avholly blind them to his merits. I was a prisoner, a slave^ a contemned and despicable 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. You 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 herseli! 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 I. 'I am a soldier of Napoleon.' 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 pretty strangeness of accent. ' What am I 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 ? We must surely all regret ! the son to his mother, the man to his countiy; 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 con- tinued : '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 sobbing to himself. He has a tender character, full of tender and pretty sentiments ; and in the dark at night, and sometimes by day when he can get me apart with him, he laments a mother and a sweetheart. Do 3-ou 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 8- ST. IVES 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 thing so deli- cate to produce and so easy to overthrow ! 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 move- ments, 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 inextin- guishably in my veins. I loved her; and I did not fear to hope. Twice I had spoken with her ; and in both interviews I had been well inspired, I had engaged 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 image 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 em- bellish. 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 continue 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 soldier, a prisoner in a yellow travesty, was to awake the interest 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 inclina- A TALE OF A LION RAMPANT 9 tioii 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 i-ipened a fresh plan. A prisoner, if he has one great disability for a lover, has yet one considerable advantage : there is nothing to dis- tract 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 emblem of Scotland, the Lion Rampant. This I proceeded to finish w'ith 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 PRISOXNIER RECONXAISSANT A. D. St. Y. n. 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 with indifference ; and the initials would at least suggest to her my noble birth. I thought it better to suggest : I felt that mystery was my stock-in-trade ; the contivist between my rank and manners, between my speech and my clothing, 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 ; and 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 con- tinue 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 twopenny sale in the market, or a halfpenny addition to the prison fare ? Days went by, and weeks ; I hail not the courage to calculate, 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. lo ST. I FES '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 natural. If your brother and I -were to meet in the field, we should meet like tigers; but when he sees me here disarmed and helpless, he forgets his animosity.' (At which, as I had ventured to expect, this beardless champion coloured to the ears for plea- sure.) '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 hope thei'e is found some French lady to convey to each of them the priceless consolation of her sym- pathy. You have given me alms ; and more than alms — hope ; and while you 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 boAvs to her equal, and passed on (I could have sworn) with a heightened coloui*. I was overjoyed : my innocent ruse had succeeded ; she had taken my gift Avithout a hint of payment, and she would scarce sleep in peace till she had made it up to me. No 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 could not withhold from him my sympathy. And as for 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 lan- guage), ' I do not and I cannot know you. 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 thoughts when the bell was rung that discharged .our visitors into the street. Our little market was no sooner closed than we were summoned to the distribu- tion, 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 unbear- ably offensive ; it was possibly more so than they dreamed — as the sight-seers at a menagerie may offend in a thousand ways, and quite v.ithout 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 peasants, trained since boyhood in victorious armies, and accustomed to move among subject and trembling populations, could ill brook their change of circum- stance. 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 lui- fitted — that of man-clial dcs hgis in the 22nd of the line. In so far as a brute can be a good soldier, he was a good soldier ; 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 pothouses. As a gentleman by birth, and a scholar by taste and education, I Avas the type of all that he least understood 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 pei- ceived him drawing near. He wore an air of hateful mirth ; a set of young fools, among Avhom he passed for a wit, followed JJNIV£RSJTV;()K CALIFORNIA LIBRARY " 12 ST. IVES him with looks of expectation ; and I saw I was about to be the object of some of his insufferable pleasantries. He took a place beside me^ spread out his rations, drank to me derisively from his measure of prison beer, and began. What he said it would be impossible to print; but his admirers, who believed their wat to have surpassed himself, 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 re- turned 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 Marquis of Carabas to the tribune.' 'Very well,' said I. 'I have to inform you that I am a gentleman. You do not know what that means, hey .'' Well, I will tell vou. It is a comical sort of animal ; springs from another strange set of creatures they call ancestors ; and, in common with toads' and other vermin, has a thing that he calls feelings. The lion is a gentleman ; he will not touch cai-rion. I am a gentleman, and I cannot bear to soil my fingers with 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 cer- tain 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 be sides, 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) hanci - somely. 'And I promise you, by the devil's horns, that you shall hav- the chance!' said he, and pledged me again; and again I did him scrupulous honour. A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSORS 13 The news of this defiance spread from prisoner to prisoner with the speed of wings ; every face was seen to be illuminated like those of the spectators at a horse-race ; and indeed you must first have tasted the active life of a soldier, and then mouldered for a while in the tedium of a jail, in order to under- stand, perhaps even to excuse, the delight of our companions. Goguelat and I slept in the same squad, which greatly simpli- fied the business ; and a committee 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 excel- lent military subject, and a good man. He took the most serious view of his 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 truck- ling for copper 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 gratitude, and am bound to protect her character, and to support that of the army. You are my elder and my superior : 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 bicn, 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 by, and in the open middle of the shed under which we slept. The question of arms was more obscure. We had a good many tools, indeed, which we employed in the manufac- ture of our toys ; but they were none of them suited for a single combat between civilised men, and, being nondescript, it was found extremely hard to equalise the chances of the combat- ants. 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, but the resin from the green pillars of the shed, which still sweated from the axe. It was a strange thing to feel in one's hand this weapon, which was no heavier than a ridinff-rod. and which it Avas diffi- 14 ST. IVES cult to suppose would prove more dangerous. A general oath was administered and taken^ that no one should interfere in the duel nor (suppose it to result 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 tln-ough 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 uiglit 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 impossible to see his eyes; and from the suppleness ol 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 nut mortally wound him, no defence 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. ' AUez!' said the sergeant-major. Both lunged in the same moment with an equal fury, and but for my manoeuvre both had certainly been spitted. As it Avas, 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 im- mediately 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 r ' 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. A TALE OF A PAIR OF SCISSORS 15 The idea of having killed a man with such an instrument as half a pair of scissors seemed to turn my stomach. I am sure I might 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 naked- ness, even the resin on the twine, appeared to contribute. I ran to my fallen adversary, kneeled by hira^ and could only sob his name. He bade me compose myself ' You have given me the key of tlie fields, comrade,' said he. 'Sans rancune !' At this my horror redoubled. Here had Ave two expatricited Frenchmen engaged in an ill-regulated combat like the battles of beasts. Here was he, who had been all his life so great a ruffian, dying in a foreign land of this ignoble injury, and meet- ing death with something of the spirit of a Baj'ard. I in- sisted that the guards should be summoned and a doctor brought. 'It may still be possible to save him,' I cried. The sergeant-major reminded me of our engagement. ' If 3'ou had been wounded,' said he, ' you must have lain thei'e till the patrol came by and found you. It happens to be Goguelat — and so must he ! Come, child, time to go to by-by.' And as I still resisted, ' Champdivers ! ' 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 simulated, 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 flying. 'What devil's work is this?' he cried, and with a startling voice summoned the guard. 1 6 ST. IVES We were all afoot upon the instant ; more lanterns and soldiei's croAvded in front of tlie shed ; an officer elbowed his way in. In the midst was the bis^ 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 murder!' cried the officer. ' You wild beasts, you w'ill 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 GOGUELAT 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 impos- sible, 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 was a little, spruce, ruddy man of an impatient 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 trimming his nails with a pair of scissors ! 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 suppose 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 3'et found wanting in an answer. 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 the death of Goguelat re- mained 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 B 1 8 ST. I FES 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 ffict 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 adventure. It was the third morning after the due), 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 education ; and of the others with whom I had any opportunity of speech, those that would not have held a book upsidedown would have torn the pages out for pipe- lights. For I must repeat again that our body of prisoners was exceptional : there was in Edinburgh Castle none of that educational 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 surprisingly 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. Cleanliness is good, but I cannot bear a man's nails to seem japanned. And certainly he was too self-possessed and cold. There was none of the fire of youth, none of the swiftness of the soldier, in this young officer. His kindness was cold, and cruel cold ; his deliberation exasperating. And perhaps 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 reserve. 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 progress!' I said. I would MAJOR CHEVENIX COMES INTO THE STORY 19 not discourage him, you understand, but he was congenitally unable to learn French. Some fire, I think, is needful, and he had quenched his fire in soapsuds. He 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. ' You have been some time giving me these lessons,' he went on, • and 1 am tempted to think rather well of you. I believe you are a gentleman.' ' I have that honour, sir,' said I. ' You have seen me for the same period. I do not know how I strike you ; but perhaps you will be prepared to believe 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 Goguelat?' ' You 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 you sujipose that I believed you for a moment ? ' 'Neither would you believe me if I were to repeat it here,' said I. 'I may be wrong — we shall soon see,' says he; 'but my impression is that you 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. 'You must know — that's the short and the long,' he pro- ceeded. 'All of you in shed B are bound to know. And I want to ask you where is the common-sense of keeping up this farce, and maintaining this cock-and-bull story between friends. Come, come, my good fellow, own yourself beaten, and laugh at it yourself.' 'Well, I hear you, go ahead,' said I. 'You put your heart in it.' He crossed his legs slowly. ' I can very well understand,' he began, ' that precautions have had to be taken. I dare say 20 ST. IVES 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 impatience ; simply sat awliile silent, and began again in the same placid and good-natured voice : 'The court and I were at one in setting aside your evidence. It could not deceive a child. But there was a difference between myself and the other officers, because / knew my man and they did not. They saw in you a common 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 nothing 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 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 follow 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 Mas a very sudden and sharp seizure,' he said doubtfully. ' But if you are sure, MAJOR CHEFENIX COMES INTO THE STORY 21 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 circum- stances 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 Avinced aAvay from him. ' No,' I cried, 'not that. Do not put your hand upon my shoulder. I can- not bear it. It is rheumatism,' I made haste to add. 'My shoulder is inflamed and very painful.' He returned to his chair and deliberately lighted a cigar, ' I am sorry about your shoulder,' he said at last. ' Let me send for the doctor.' 'Not 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 we 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 remained 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 know that much, and ^ '11 take your Avord of honour for it. Otherwise, I shall be ery sorry, but the doctor must be called in.' 2 2 ST. IVES ' I neither admit anything nor deny anything,' I returned. ' But if this form of words will suffice you, here is what I say : I give you my pai'ole, as a gentleman and a soldiei', 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 can 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? 'Oh!'- — spying me — 'there you are, what's your name! Fo« '11 do. Tell these fellows that the other fellow 's d3'ing. He's booked; no use talking; I expect he'll go b}'^ evening. And tell them I don't envy the feelings of the fellow who spiked him. Tell them that first.' I did so. 'Then you can tell 'em/ he resumed, 'that the fellow, Goggle — what's his name? — wants to see some of them before 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 prc5c«/, 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 recoiled from the idea ; and how couki I be sure what reception he designed to give me ? The 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 the subsequent great gladness of my heart, I did not dwell for an instant on the thought, walked over to the de- signated 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 Ave 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 fellow ' would see each of us alone, and, as soon as I had explained that, sent me by myself into the ward. It was a small room, whitewashed ; a south window stood open on a vast depth of air and a spacious and distant prospect; and from deep below, in the Grassmarket, MAJOR CHEVENIX COMES INTO THE STORY 23 the voices of hawkers came up clear and far away. Hard by, on a little bed, lay Goguelat. The sunburn had not j^et 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 spoke, 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 suis bon bougre, mat. I'll take it to hell with me, and tell the devil.' Why should I go on to reproduce his grossness and trivi- alities r All that he thought, at that hour, was even noble, 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 up 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 frinds.' To my great surprise, the doctor appeared veiy much affected. He nodded his little bob-wigged head at us, and said re- peatedly, '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 unpardonable fellows make the happiest 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 conversation 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 dav, 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 illoffical and useless is this sentiment of remorse, that I was ready, at a word or a look, to quarrel Avith somebody else. I presume the disposition of my mind was imprinted on my face ; and when, a little after, I overtook, saluted 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. 24 ST. IVES ' 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, jiutting a silver two- penny-bit in my hand^ he left me. I should have had that twopenny framed to hang upon the wall, for it was the man's one act of charity in all my know- ledge of him. Instead of that, I stood looking at it in my hand and laughed out bitterly, as I realised his mistake ; then went to the ramparts, and flung it far into the air like blood money. The night was falling ; through an embrasure and across the gardened valley I saw the lamplighters 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 even- ing, 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, veiy painful and all that. But do you know, it ain't such a bad thing either for j'ou 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 '11 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 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 ! ' At this I became aware of his eyes set upon me with a con- sidering look, and brought up sharply. 'Well, well,' said he. 'Good night to you, Champdivers. Come to me at breakfast-time to-morrow, and we 'II 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 BANK NOTES I WAS surprised one morning, shortly after, to find myself 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 pro- tuberant forehead ; and was dressed in clothes of a Quakerish cut. In spite of his plainness, he had that inscrutable air of a man w^ell-to-do in his affairs. I conceived he had been some Avhile 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 Champ- divers, 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 assumption, partly to conceal the degree of curiosity 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 lips of a private soldier. He seemed to think so too, for he laughed. ' No, sir,* he returned, speaking this time in English ; ' I am not " horn," as you call it, and must content myself with dj/iiig, of which I am equally susceptible with the best of you. My name is Mr. Romaine — Daniel Romaine — a solici- tor of London City, at your service ; and, what will perhaps 25 26 ST. IVES interest you more,. I am here at the request of your great-uncle, the Count.' 'What I' I cried, 'does M. de Keroual de St. -Yves remember the existence of such a person as myself, and will he deign to count kinship with a soldier of Napoleon ? ' ' You speak English well,' observed my visitor. ' It has been a second language to me from a child,' said I. ' I had an English nurse ; my father spoke English with me; and I was finished by a countryman of yours and a dear friend of mine, a Mr. Vicar}-.' A strong expression of interest came into the lawyer's face. ' ^Vhat I ' he cried, ' you knew poor Vicary .-' ' ' For more than a year,' said I ; ' and shared his hiding-place for many months.' 'And I was his clerk, and have succeeded him in business/ said he. 'Excellent man! It was on the affairs of M. de Keroual that he went to that accursed country, from which he was never destined to return. Do vou 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 cliauffeurs. In a word, he was tortured, and died of it. See,' I added, kicking off one shoe, for I had no stockings; 'I was no 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 shrink- ing. ' Beastly people ! ' I 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 visitors Avould have accepted the remark as natural in itself and creditable to ray powers of judgment, but it appeared my lawyer Avas 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 ii'onical mood,' he con- tinued. ' It is a dangerous instrument. Your great-uncle has I believe, practised it verj' much, until it is now become a problem what he means.' 'And that brings me back to what you will admit is a mo^*^ natural inquiry,' said I. 'To what do I owe the pleasure this visit .^ how did you recognise me ? and how did you kn< •■ I was here } ' Carefully separating his coat skirts, the lawyer took a sf beside me on the edge of the flags. 'It is rather an odd story,' says he, 'and, with your lea\ ST. I FES GETS A BUNDLE OF BANK NOTES 27 I '11 answer the second question first. It was from a certain iTsemblance you bear to your cousin, M. le Vicomte.' 'I trusty 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 exterior. And yet, when I knew you were here, and was actually looking for you — why, the likeness helped. As 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. \\'hen he first brought the news of your — that you were serving- Buonaparte, it seemed it might be the death of the old gentle- man, 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 com- missioned for a piece of bravery, and were again reduced to the ranks. And from one thing to another (as I say), M. de Keroual 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 remarkably well informed of events in France. And it now became a very disagreeable question, whether the young gentleman was not a spy ? In short, sir, in seeking to disserve you, he had accumu- lated against himself a load of suspicions.' My visitor now jjaused, 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 liave 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 ! ' ' Oh, I cannot complain ! ' said I. ' I was in the wrong. I did it with my eyes open. If a man gets a prisoner to guard and lets him go, the least he can expect is to be degraded.' 'You will be paid for it,' said he. ' You did well for yourself and better for your king.' 'If I had thought I Avas injuring my emperor,' said I, 'I Avould have let M. de Mauseant burn in hell ere I liad helped him, and be sure of that ! I saw in him only a private person in a difficulty: I let him go in private charity; not even to profit myself will I suffer it to be misunderstood.' 28 • ST. IVES •^Well, well,' said the lawyer, 'no mattei* 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 exj^ensive 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 lield 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 wholl}^ to the other.' ' What am I to understand by that } ' said I. ' I will tell you,' says he. ' There is a remarkable inconsis- tency in human nature which gentlemen of my cloth have a great deal of occasion to observe. Selfish persons can live without chick or child, the\' can live without all mankind except perhaps the barber and the apothecary ; but when it comes to dying, they seem physically iniable to die Avithout an heir. You can apply this princijile for yourself. Viscount Alain, though he scarce guesses it, is no longer in the field. Remains, Viscount Anne.' ' I see,' said I, ' you give a very unfavourable impression of my uncle, the Count.' ' I had not meant it,' said he. ' He has led a loose life — ■ sadly loose — but he is a man it is impossible 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 communication : 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 cer- tainly 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 mountain that must come to Mahomet.' ST. IVES GETS A BUNDLE OF BANK NOTES 29 ' From an Englishman, tlie remark is certainly significant,' 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 say 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 1 believe 1 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,' returned the lawyer. 'Suppose by some contingency, at which I make no guess, and on Avhich I offer no opinion ' 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 be- lieve I can do something to help 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 dishonest ones. But further 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 : a piece 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 paper of your cousin's that we came across his trail,' replied the lawyer, ' But I am inclined to think, so far as anything is safe in such a nasty business, you might apply to the man Fenn. You might even, I think, use the Viscount's name ; and the little trick of family resemblance 30 ST. IVES might come in. Wow, for instance^ 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 apparently a devil of an opponent in my cousin ; and^ being a prisoner of war, I can scarcely be said to hold good cards. For what stakes, then, am I playing .'' ' ' They are very large/ said he. ' Your great-uncle is im- mensely 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 England ; 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 tlie lawyer, with a rising inflection and a heightening colour ; and then broke suddenly off, — 'In short, sir, he has seen all the advan- tages 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 excuse,' said I ; ' yet whicli 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, and my last school of manners was the prison of the Abbaye. 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 generous in you must rise against that — domination.' 'And perhaps,' I retorted, 'had your childhood passed among wolves, you woulcj have been overjoyed yourself to see the Corsican Shepherd.' 'Well, well/ replied Mr. Romaine, '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 ponderous arch. CHAPTER V ST. IVES IS SHOWN A HOUSE The lawyer was scarce gone before I remembered many omis- sions; and chief among thesCj that I had neglected to get Mr. Burchell Fenn's address. Here was an essential point neglected ; and 1 ran to the head of the stairs to find myself already too late. Tlie laAvyer 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 ramparts. 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 whenever 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 train of my reflections, which turned upon the interview I had just concluded and the hopes that were now opening before me. What is more essential, my eye (even while I 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 my 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 Avhom 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 acquaintance : 31 32 ST. I FES 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 young lady whose tall persons and gallant carriage I thought I recognised. It was impossible at such a distance that I could be sure, but the thought was sufficient, and I craned out of the embrasure to follow them as long as possible. To think that such emotions, that such a concussion of the blood, may have been inspired by a chance resemblance, and that I may have 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 all very well, and it was highly need- ful, I should see my uncle; but an uncle, 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 opportunity 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 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 ncAV clothes. The con- clusion 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, tf it were to be done at all, they must 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 I'each 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 Ronald put in an appearance 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 embarrassed, not having pre- viously addressed me otherwise than by a bow and blushes; ST. I FES IS SHOnX A HOUSE 33 and he advanced to me with an air of one stubbornly performing a duty^ like a raw soldier under fire. I laid down my cai-ving; greeted him Avith a good deal of formality, such as I thought he would enjoy ; and finding him to remain silent, branched off into narrativ'es of ray campaigns such as Goguelat himself might have scrupled to endorse. He visibly thawed and brightened ; drew more near to where I sat; forgot his 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.' ' I 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.' ' I believe that is our national character,' he said — God for- give 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. ' I am quite surprised,' he said at last. ' People tell you the French are insincere. Now, I think your sincerity 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. 'Oh, now ! Yes, very soon,' said he. ' I — I wish to tell you. I Avould not let Flora — Miss Gilchrist, I mean — come to-day. I wished to see more of you myself. I trust you are not offended : 3'ou know, one should be careful about strangers.' I approved his caution, and he took himself away : leaving me in a mixture cf contrarious feelings, part ashamed to have played on one so gullible, part raging that I should have burned so much incense before the vanitv of England ; vet, in the 34 ST. IVES 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 ami the sorrowful humility that befits a captive, that I declare, as I went to meet them, I might have afforded a sub- ject 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 ^ny 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 Champdivers, 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 ! ' 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 moment 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, van- quished, a prisoner in a fortress, and take my own name upon ray 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 — perhaps 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 toljacco 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 transition I required. ' My dear friends,' I said — ' for you must allow me to call you that, who have no others within so many hundred leagues — perhaps you will think me fanciful and sentimental ; and perhaps indeed I am ; but there is one service 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, ST. I FES IS SHOJVN A HOUSE 35 I have the opportunity 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 chimney 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 ! So, when I look all about me, I shall be able to sav : " There is one /loiisc in nhich I am not quite unkindly thought of." ' Flora stood a moment. 'It is a pretty thought,' said she, 'and, as far as regards Ronald 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 om- pro- jected flight. Thence we had a view of some foreshortened 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 tiiese marks?' she said. 'We call them the Seven Sisters. Follow a little lower with your eye, and you Mill see a fold of the hill, the tops of some trees, and a tail of smoke out of the midst of them. That is Swanston 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, Ronald ? — and we think of you, M. de Saint-Yves; but I am afraid it does not altogether make us glad.' 'Mademoiselle!' said I, and indeed my voice was scarce nider 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 dedicate to j'ou the prayers of this poor sinner. Ah ! I do not say they can avail ! ' ' Who can say that, M. de Saint-Yves ? ' she said softly. ' But 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 36 ST. IVES 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 entirely 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 veiy kind to me.' 'He stared/ she said, — '\ do not say, rudely; but why should he stare ? ' 'If you do not wish to be stared at, mademoiselle, suffer 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 : ' Oh, I don't think he meant any harm. I suppose 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 — ' I compliment you on your taste,' said he to me. ' I beg your pardon ?• ' said I. 'Oh no, I beg yours,' said he. 'You understand me per- fectly, 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 Goguelat in- sulted and whom you avenged. I do not blame you. She is a heavenly creatm*e.' 'With all my heart, to the last of it I ' said I. 'And 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 ! ' 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 whicli 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 Avith 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 acquaint- ance. From the heel of the masonry, the rascally, breakneck })recipice descended sheer among waste lands, scattered suburbs of the 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 person 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 Elbow wrought like an enietic. 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 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 Elbow and making estimates of the descent, whether by a bare guess or the dropping of stones, A private of pioneers ;membered the formula for that — or else remembered part of : and obligingly invented the remainder. I had never any eal confidence in that formula ; and even had we got it from a jook, there were difficulties in the way of the application that might have daunted Archimedes. We durst not drop any considerable pebble lest the sentinels should hear, and those 37 38 ST. IVES 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 nicetjj all somehow guessed it differently. In shorty if any two set forth upon this enter- prise^ they invariably returned with two opinions^ and often with a black eye in the bai'gain. 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 Avith ignorance ; and the thought that some poor devil was to hazard his bones upon such premises, rev'olted 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 re- mained for us to do ; and even in that we had advanced so far that the lot had fallen on Shed B. It had been determined 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 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 perhaps excusable. But it was, in our case, more than a little. The truth is, we Avere all womanish fellows about a height ; and I have myself been put, more than once, hors de combat by a less affair than the rock of Edinburgh Castle. We discussed it in the dark and betAveen the passage of the rounds ; and it Avas 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 Avere persuaded it Avas safe, and could prove the same by argument ; but if they had good reasons Avhy some one else should make the trial, they liad better still Avhy it should not be themselves. Others, again, condemned the Avhole idea as insane ; among these, as ill-luck Avould have it, a seaman of the fleet; Avho Avas the most dispiriting of all. The height, he reminded us^ Avas greater than the tallest ship's mast, the rope entirely free ; and he as good as defied the boldest and strongest to succeed. We Avere relieved from this dead-lock by our serjeant-major of dragoons. 'Comrades,' said he, 'I believe I rank you all; and for that reason, if you really Avish it, I Avill be the first myself. At the same time, you are to consider Avhat the chances are that I may THE ESCAPE 39 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 hcda'nic. My arms are all gone to fat. And you must promise 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. Laclas is the oldest man here ; and, as such, he should be the very 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 afl^iir 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 rallied on the matter in the ranks, and had passed under the by-names of ]\Io!iscig?icur 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 unnoticed, from the lucky incident of a round happening at that moment to go by. And during the interval of silence there occurred something that sent my blood to the boil. There was a private in our shed called Clausel, a man of a 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 i/ie Genera/, and sometimes by a name too ill- mannered for repetition. As we all sat listening, this man's hand was laid on my shoulder, and his voice whispered in my ear : ' If you don't go, I '11 have you hanged. Marquis I ' 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 dishonoured 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, as soon as I had told them, but one voice agreeing to the punish- ment. The General was, in consequence, extremely roughly handled, and the next day was congratulated by all who saw him on his uov dccoralions. It was lucky for us 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 40 ST. IVES surpass humanity ; and I made up my mind to give him a wide berth in tlie future. Had I been to go down that instant, I beHeve 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 in- terval, I have to direct your sympathies 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 Fociety of shellfish. He who Avas the best of our carvers brought me a snuff-box, which he had just completed, and which, Avhile 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 anthropophagi, and honoured like the sacrificial bull. And what with these annoyances, and the risky venture immediately 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 across at us no brighter than the eyes of cats ; and five steps from one of the lanterns on the ramparts it was already groping dark. We made haste to lie down. Had our jailers 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 httle. On all sides of us, in their different quarters, we could hear the watchman 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 sleejiless, 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 condemned 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 : THE ESCAPE 41 ' Past yiii 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 proffered 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 you 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 patted me. It was all very well to show the disposition of my temper before a friend alone ; before ray 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 I ' The tunnel was cleared, the stake driven, the rope extended. As I moved forward to the place, many of my comrades caught me by the hand and wrung it, an attention I could well have done without. ' Keep an eye on Clausel ! ' I whispered to I.aclas ; 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 moment 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 per- sonal 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 outrageous fury of exertion ; and dashed me at intervals against the face of the rock. I had no eyes to see Avith ; 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 or coming down. 42 ST. IVES Of a sudden 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 outwai'ds 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 estimated 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 Avish, and that was : something else to think of! Strange to say, I got it : a veil Avas torn from my mind, and I saw what a fool I was — what fools Ave had all been — and that I had no business to be thus dangling betAveen earth and heaven by my arms. The only thing to have done Avas to have attached me to a rope and lowered me, and I had never the Avit 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 Avas at an end, and I Avas so fortunate as to be never again exposed to any violent concussion. Soon after I must have passed Avithin a little distance of a bush of wallfloAver, for the scent of it came over rae Avith that impression of reality which characterises scents in darkness. This made me a second land- mark, the ledge being my first. I began accordingly to com- pute intervals of time : so much to the ledge, so much again to the wallflower, so much more beloAv. If I Avere not at the bottom of the rock, I calculated I must be near indeed to the end of the rope, and there Avas no doubt that I Avas not far from the end of my own resources. I began to be light-headed and to be tempted to let go, — noAV arguing that I Avas certainly arrived within a few feet of the level and could s'afely risk a fall, anon persuaded I Avas still close at the top and it Avas idle to continue longer on the rock. In the midst of Avhich I came to a bearing on plain ground, and had nearly Avept aloud. My hands Avere as good as flayed, my courage entirely exhausted, and, Avhat Avith the long strain and the sudden relief, my limbs THE ESCAPE 43 shook under me with more than the violence of agiie^ and I was glad to cling to the rope. But this was no time to give way. I had (by God's single mercy) got myself alive out of that fortress ; and now I had to try to get the others,, my comrades. Tiiere Avas about a fathom of rope to spare ; I got it by the end, and searched the whole ground thoroughly for anything to make 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 am 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 liave 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 wvas now standing there was occasionally visible, as the fog lightened, a lamj) in one of the barrack windows, which gave me a measure of the height he had to fall and the horrid force that he must strike me with. 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 rope 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 ])ass 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 Avas the sailor who had insisted on succeeding me : as soon as my continued silence had assured him the rope was long enough, Gautier, for that Avas his name, had forgot his former arguments, and shoAvn himself so ex- tremely forAvarcl, that Laclas had given Avay. It Avas like the fellow, Avho had no harm in him beyond an instinctive selfish- ness. But he Avas like to have paid pretty dearly for the privilege. Do as I Avould, I could not keep the rope as I could have Avished 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, Avept over his finger, Avhich he had broken, and cursed me affain. I bade him be still and think shame of himself to 44 ST. IVES 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 Avas discovered ; the third man came to the ground quite easily ; the fourth was, of course, child's play ; and before there w^ere ten of us col- lected, it seemed to me that, without 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 they were to steal a ship. Suppose them 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 private soldiers would have en- tertained 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 they had always been beyond my counselling ; 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 VII SWANSTON COTTAGE I 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 good 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 even once the misfortune to awake a sleeping family, the father of which, as I suppose, menaced me from the window with a blunderbuss. 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 neighbouring- families converse from window to window, and at length I was challenged myself. ' Wha 's that ? ' cried a big voice. I could see it proceeded from a big man in a big nightcap, leaning from a one-pair window ; and as I was not yet abreast of his house, I judged it Avas more wise to answer. This was not the first time I had had to stake my fortunes on the good- ness of my accent in a foreign tongue ; and I have always found the moment inspiriting, as a gambler should. Pulling around 45 46 ST. IVES me a sort of great-coat I had made of my blanket, to cover my sidphur-coloured livery^ — 'A friend ! ' said I. ' What like 's all tliis 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. *0h, sir, they will be soon taken/ I replied: 'it has been found in time. Good morning, sir ! ' ' Ye walk late, sir t ' he added, ' Oh, 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 well 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 peoj)le, 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 walking inordinately quick, as I spoke like a gentle- man, 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 cheerfully, and as I escaped at one end of this dangerous pass I could see the watchman's lantern enter- ing by the other. I was now safe on a dark country 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 officer or a mei'e 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 neshary infa- mation ? Whish roa' t' Cramond.^' I laughed out clear and loud, stepped up to the convivialist, took him by the shoulders and fjiced him about. 'My good friend/ said I, ' I believe I know what is best for you much SJVANSTOK COTTAGE 47 better than yourself, and may God forgive you the fright you have given me I There, get you gone to Edinburgh ! ' And I gave a sliove, which he obeyed with the passive agiHty of a ball, and disappeared incontinently in the darkness down the road by which 1 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 destination. I was some way u]) when the fog began to lighten ; a little farther, and I stepped by degrees into a clear starry niglit, and saw in front of me, and quite distinct, the summits of the Pentlands, and behind, the valley 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, creak- ing 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 shawl 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. Tlie 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 Avarmth, 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 uj), 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 white- washed farmhouse stood among the trees, beside a falling brook; beyond were rough hills of pasture. I bethought me that shep- herd folk were early risers, and if I were once seen skulking in tluit neighboui-hood 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 rouo-h- cast gables and grey I'oofs. It had something the air of a rambling infinitesimal cathedral, the body of it rising in the midst tAvo storeys high, with a steep-pitched roof, and sending out upon all hands (as it were chapter-houses, chapels, and transepts) one-storeyed and dwarfish projections. To add to this appearance, it was grotesquely decorated with crockets 48 ST. IVES 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 remember with trembling), or some ass of a servant-maid who should burst out screaming at sight of me. Higlier 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 tlie holly thickets would have proved a very suitable retreat, but there was mounted on the wall a sort of signboard 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 hundred 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 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 waiting. As the day wore on, the sun came very pleasantly out. T had been awake all night, I had undergone the most viole;. l agitations of mind and body, and it is not so much to be won- dered at, as it was exceedingly unwise and foolhardy, tliat 1 should have dropped into a doze. From this I awakened to the characteristic sound of digging, looked down, and saw im- mediately below me the back view of a gardener in a stabl'" waistcoat. Now he would appear steadily immersed in his bus ness ; anon, to my more immediate terror, he would straights his back, stretch his arms, gaze about the otherwise deserte garden, and relish a deep pinch of snuff. It was my fir^^v thought to drop from the wall upon the other side. A glanct SJVANSTON COTTAGE 49 sufficed to show me that even the way by which I had come was now cut off, and the field behind me ah-eady 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 Avail arrayed with broken bottles is no favourable rostrum ; and I might be as eloquent as Pitt, and as fascinating as Richelieu, and neither the gardener nor the shepherd lads would care a halfpenny. In sliort, 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 was 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 some part of the garden walks and (under an evergreen arch) the front lawn and windows of the cottage. For long nothing stirred except my friend with the spade ; then I heard the opening of a sash ; and presently after saw Miss Flora appear in a morning wrapper and come strolling hitherward between the borders, pausing and visiting her flowers — herself as fair. There was a friend ,- here, immediately beneath me, an unknown quantity — the gardener : how to communicate Avith 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 chickweed, she gazed at the summit of the mountain, she came even immediately beloAv me and conversed on the most fastidious topics with the gardener ; but to the top of that wall she would not dedicate a glance ! At last .she began to retrace her steps in the direction of the cottage ; whereupon, 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, turned abovit, 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 doAvn 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 Avas gazing in the opposite direction. 'There's a child among the artichokes,' she said. 50 ST. IVES 'The Plagues of Egyp' ! I'll see to them!' cried the gardener truculently^ and Avith a hurried waddle disappeared among the evergreens. That moment she turned, she came running towards me, her arms stretched out, her face incarnadined for the one moment with heavenly blushes, the next pale as death. ' Monsieur de Saint- Yves ! ' she said. 'My dear young lady,' I saidj '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 exclaimed. ' Come down by the beech trunk — you must leave no footprint in the border — quickl}', 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 compli- ments ; hurry breathed u])on 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 particular than its neighbours. But conceive a British hen ! CHAPTER Mil THE HEN-HOUSE I WAS half an hour at least in the society of these distressing bipeds, and alone with my own reflections and necessities. I was in great pain of my flayed hands, and had nothing to treat them w'ith ; 1 was hungry and thirsty^ and had nothing to eat or to drink ; I was thoroughly tired, and there was no place for me to sit. To be sure there was the floor, but nothing could be imagined less inviting. At the sound of approaching footsteps, my good-humour was restored. The key rattled in the lock, and Master Ronald 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 embar- rassing,' said he. 'Well,' said I, 'and what do you think of mine. ^' This seemed to pose him entirely, and he remained gazing upon me with a convincing air of youth and innocence. 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 ! ' he cried : ' if I knew ! ' ' You see,' said I, ' it would be different if you had received your commission. Properly speaking, you are not yet a com- batant ; I have ceased to be one ; and I think it arguable that we are just in the position of one ordinary gentleman to another, where friendship usually comes before the law. Observe, I only say arguable. For God's sake, don't think I wish to dictate an opinion. These are the sort of nasty little businesses, insepar- able from war, which every gentleman must decide for himself. If I were in your place ' ' Ay, what would you do, then i ' says he. • Upon my word, 1 do not know,' said I. 'Hesitate, as you are doing, I believe.' 52 ST. IVES ' I will tell you/ he said. ' I 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. Veni, victus sum, evasi.' ' What ! ' he cried, ' You were at Barossa } ' 'There and back, which many could not say,' said I. 'It Avas a pretty affair and a hot one, and the Spaniards behaved abominably, as they usually did in a pitched field ; the Marshal Duke of BeUuno 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, 3 ou 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 you dear. Well, we had repulsed more chai'ges than I care to count, when your 87th Regiment 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 seeing him an old man, veiy handsome, and as com- posed 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 Ronald. '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 ' THE HEN-HOUSE 53 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 up 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 it will not be for six,' he added, with a smile : ' only what we can get smuggled out. There is ray aunt in the road, you see,' and lie 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 age, it will be a brave day for me and not a bad one for his country. At the same time I cannot pretend that I was sorry when his sister succeeded in his place. She brought me .1 few crusts of bread and a jug of milk, which she had handsomely laced with whisky after the Scottish manner. ' I 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 ])ut some whisky in the milk — it is moi'e wholesome so — and with eggs you will be able to make something of a meal. How many eggs will j'ou 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 dis- played my bleeding palms ; at which she cried out aloud. 'My dear Miss Flora, 3'ou cannot make an omelette Avithout breaking eggs,' said I ; ' and it is no bagatelle to escape from Edinburgh Castle. One of us, I think, Avas even killed.' ' And you are as Avhite 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 person to take care of -Jacobites or Co^fenanters 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 Ave can call our OAvn. 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 embarrass me Avith more alms. I loved to receive them from that hand, so long as they Avere needed ; but they are so no more, and what- ever else I may lack — and I lack everything — it is not mone3^' ' - led out my sheaf of notes and detached the top one : it 54 ST. IVES was written for ten pounds, and signed by tliat very famous individual, Abraliam Newlands. ' 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 future. There was in it a shadow of reproach, and such warmth of communi- cative cordiality as left me speechless. I Avatched 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) I conceive as rather a theatrical figure, and his make up should be to match.' ' And yet there is a difficulty,' said she. ' If you got coarse clothes the fit would hardly matter. But the clothes of a fine gentleman — O, it is absolutely necessary that these should fit ! Y\nd above all, with your ' — she paused a moment — ' to our ideas somewhat noticeable manners.' ' Alas for my poor manners ! ' said I. ' But my dear friend Flora, these little noticeabilities are just what mankind has to sufl'er under. Yourself, you see, you 're very noticeable even when you come in a crowd to visit poor pris'^ners in the Castle.' I was afraid I should frighten my good a.igel 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 ! ' she cried — 'if that is to be your name — I do not say they would not be becoming; but for a journey, do 3-ou think they would be wise .'' I am afraid ' — she gave a pretty break of laughter — • I am afraid they would be daft-like ! ' • Well, and am I not daft } ' I asked her. ' I 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 tliat perhaps the THE HEN-HOUSE 55 bitterest thing in this captivity has been the clothes ? Make me a captive — bind me with chains if you Hke — but let me be still myself. You do not know what it is to be a walking travesty — among foes/ I added bitterly. 'O, 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 good 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 ' "^ O, Mr. St. Ives! never!' she exclaimed. ^Not for one moment. It was all too sad. To see a gentleman ' 'In the clothes of a harlequin, and begging?' I suggested. ' 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 j^ou say — even if you had thought my travesty were becoming — I sliould be only the more anxious, for my sake, for my countr3''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 characteristic than a misfitting sulphui*- yelloAV suit, and half a week's beard ? ' ' You think a great deal too much of clothes,' she said. ' I am not that kind of girl,' * And I am 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 keepsakes, that I cannot be parted from until I lose memory and life. Many of them are great things, many of them are high virtues— charitj'^, 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 Oil the door to go. Perhaps this attitude emboldened me to p/ fit by the last seconds of our interview ; and it certainly dered her escape the more easy. ' O, you are too romantic ! ' she said, laughing ; and with ..at my sun was blown out, my enchantress had fled away, and 1 was again left alone in the twilight Avith the lady hens. CHAPTER IX THREE IS COMPANY, AND 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 from the Castle battle- ments) 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 outfit of new clothes. To be shaved again without depending 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, indeed, 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 extraordinarily well. Altogether, when I beheld this changeling in the glass, I kissed my hand to him. 'M}' dear fellow,' said I, 'have you no scent.''' 'Good God, no!' cried Ronald. 'What do you 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 dininor-room of the cottaffe. 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 precautions that might have seemed excessive in the Ear of Dionysius. 66 THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE 57 '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 entertained me with the news of the city, which had naturally rung all day with our escape : troops and mounted messengers had followed each other forth at all hours and in all directions ; but according to the last intelligence no recapture had been made. Opinion in town was very favourable to us : our courage was ap])lauded, 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 attained their liberty, and Shed A was un- tenanted. 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 spirits 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 Ronald, and to the ears of Flora maintain the same profound and sentimental note that I had already sounded. Certainly there are days when all goes well Avith a man ; when his wit, his digestion, his mistress are in a conspiracy to spoil him, and even the weather smiles upon his wishes. I will only say of m.yself upon that evening that I surpassed my expectations, and Avas privileged to delight my hosts. Little by little they forgot tlieir terrors and I my caution ; until at last we wei*e brought back to earth by a catastrophe that might very easily have been foreseen, but was not the less astonishing to us when it otcui-red. I had filled all the glasses. ' I have a toast to propose,' I whispered, 'or rather three, but all so inextricably interwoven that they will not bear dividing. I wish first to drink to the health of a brave and therefore a generous enemy. He found me disarmed, a fugitive and helpless. Like the lion, he dis- dained 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; she cheered me with a priceless sympathy; what 58 ST. I FES 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 Avho has fought, not always witliout success, against the soldiers of your nation ; but who came here, vanquished already, only to be vanquished again by the loyal hand of the one, by the unfoi'gettable eyes of the other.' 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 thump upon the ceiling overhead. It was to be thought 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 ray hosts. It was proposed 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 approaching 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 dragoon, 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. Tims 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. ' Nfadam, I am charmed, I am sure,' said I. * The story is a little long; and our meeting, however welcome, Avas for the moment entirely unexpected by m3self 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 the honour to i)e only exceedingly confused. With that, I threw myself outricdit upon her mercy, ' Madam, I must be more frank Avith you ' I resumed. ' You have already proved your charity and compas- sion for the French prisoners, I am one of these ; and if rav THREE IS COMPANY, AXD FOUR XOXE 59 appearance be not too much changed, you may even yet recog- nise in me that Odditi/ wlio had the good fortune more than once to make you smile.' Still gazing upon me through her glass, she uttered an un- compromising grunt ; and then, turning to her niece — ' Flora,' said she, 'how comes he here ? ' The culprits poured out for a while an antiphony of explana- tions, 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 necessary fonnula of my presentation should be delayed until to-morrow in the morning.' The old lady regarded me with undissembled incredulit}-, to which I was alile to find no better repartee than a profound and I trust graceful reverence. "^ French prisoners are very well in their place,' she said, 'but I cannot see that their place is in my private dining- room.' ' Madam,' said I, ' I hope it may be said without offence, 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 vestige 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 ye ? ' she asked. ' At your service, the Vicomte Anne de St. -Yves,' said I. ' Mosha 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 unfor- tunate as mvself? Your humble servant is no such terrific adventurer that you should come out against him with horse- pistol and' — smiling — 'bedroom candlesticks. It is but a young oentleman in extreme distress, hunted upon every side, and asking no more than to escape from his pursuers. I know your character, I read it in your face'— the heart trembled in my bodv 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 and assist them ; they press it to their lips as I do ' 6o ST. IVES 'Here, here !' cried the old lady, breaking from my soUcita- tions. ' Behave yourself before folk ! Saw ever anyone 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 if your good heart allows it, help him a little on the Avay 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! Will somebody give me a glass of my port wine ? ' I made haste to serve her. She looked at me over the rim with an extraordinary expres- sion. ' I hope ye liked it ? ' said she. ' It is even a magnificent wine,' said I. ' Aweel, it was my father laid it down,' said she. 'There were few knew more about port wine than my father, God rest him!' She settled herself in a chair with an alarming air of resolution. ' And so there is some particular direction that you wish to go in ? ' said she. 'O,' said I, following her example, 'I am by no means such a vagrant as you su))pose. 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 bank-notes .'' ' 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 exclaimed. ' But that is soon remedied.' And I counted out ten notes of ten pound each, all in the name of Abraham NcAvlands, 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 mine,' said I. She took one of the bills and held it up. ' Is there any probability, now, that this could be traced .'' ' she asked. ' None, 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 THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE 6i the hands of his English solicitor, from my great-uncle, the Comte de Keroual de Saint- Yves, I believe the richest emigre in London.' ' I can do no more than take your word for it,' said. she. ' And I trust, madam, not less,' said I. 'Well,' said she, 'at this rate the matter may be feasible. 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 expi'ess a civil hesitation as to whether the amount Avould suffice, 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 by 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 effeminate 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 dare say 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 jou. 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 ; rowst them out of their beds, and make it perfectly distinct that Sim is not to leave till he has seen jne.' Ronald was nothing loath to escape froin his aunt's neigh- bourhood, 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,' replied 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.' 62 ST. IVES I could not help adiiiiring the prudence and tact of this old dowager, and of course it was not for me to make objections. Ere I well knew how, I was alone with a flat candlestick, which is not the most sympathetic of companions, and stood studying the snuif in a frame of mind between triumph and chagrin. All had gone well Avith my flight : the masterful lady who had arrogated to herself the arrangement 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, had enjoyed the undissembled kindness of her eyes ; and now, in a moment, down comes upon the scene that apocalyptic figure with the nightcaj) and the horse-pistol, and with the very wind of her coming l)eho]d me separated from my love ! Gratitude and admiration contended in my breast with the extreme of natural rancovu'. My appearance in her house 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 parting, 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 1 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 communication with my destined fellow-travellers; i ' device on which she had struck appeared entirely suitabh 1 THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE 63 was a young Englishman who had outrun the constable ; warrants were out against me in Scotland, and it had become needful I should pass the border without loss of time, and privately. 'I have given a very good account of you/ said she^ "^ which I hope j'ou may justify. I told them there Avas 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 I. ' I do not give myself out for a person easily alarmed ; but you must admit there is something barbarous and mediteval 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. 1 '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 gai'den, and to put to shame the candle by which I had breakfasted. The lady rose fi-om table, and I had no choice but to follow her exam])le. All the tiiiie 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 of my passage there ; and. Master Ronald appearing on the front lawn, my ogre leaned forth to address him. ' Ronald,' she said, 'wasn't that Sim that went by the wall .^ ' I snatched my advantage. Right at her back there was pen, ink, and paper laid out. I MTote : 'I love you'; and before I had time to write more, or so much as to blot what I had written, 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 something to write ? ' she demanded. ' Some notes, madam,' said I, bowing with alacrity. 64 ST. IVES ' Notes/ she said ; ' or a note ? ' ' There is doubtless soxno-^finesse of the English language that I do not comprehend,' said I. ' I '11 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, 1 cannot very well say how; I think you will admit you owe me some thanks, if it was 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 English 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 deter- mine.' 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 you may be sure I did thoroughly. ' There 's a good lad ! ' said the dragon, and immediately led the way to the front lawn. The bi'other 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 experience. Ronald seemed ashamed to so much as catch my eye in the presence of his aunt, and was the picture of embarrassment. 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 glimmer of the dawn without exchanging speech. Ronald 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 w'e Avere aware of a rough-lookinsr, thick-set man, leaning with his arms (through Avhich 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 tmie for you THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE 65 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 vith 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. ' 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 dropped 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 hira 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 valley, which wound upwards and backwards among the hills. A little stream came down the midst and made a succession of clear pools ; near by the lowest of which I was aware of a drove of shaggj' 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, remembering 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 the 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 vve were ascending the side of the mountain by a rude green track, whose pr(:'S(-nce I had not hitherto observed. A continual sound of munching and the 66 THE DROVEES 67 crying of a great quantity of moor birds accompanied our progress, which the dehberate pace and perennial appetite of the cattle rendered wearisomely slow. In the midst my two conductoi-s marched in a contented silence that I could not but admire. The more I looked at them, the more I was impressed by their absurd 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 incredible coincidence of humours augmented the impression. Thrice and four times I attempted to pave the way for some exchange of thought, sentiment, or — at the least of it — human words. An Ay or an Shm was the sole return, and the topic died on the hill-side 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 answered, 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 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. Ivey, are ye dry .'' ' said the first. ' Now, really,' said I, ' is not this Satan reproving sin ?' 'What ails ye, man .'*' said he. ' I 'm offerin' ye a dram.' ' Oh, 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 gc-ntlemen 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 ve!' and swallowed as much of the spirit as his fancy prom])ted. This little ceremony, which was the nearest thing to manners I could perceive in either of my companions, was rejieated at becoming intervals, generally after an ascent. Occasionally we shared a mouthful of ewe-milk cheese and an 68 ST. IVES inglorious form of breads 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 Avind. A continual succession of insignificant shaggy hills, divided by the course of ten thousand brooks, through which we had to wade, or by the side of which we encamped at night ; infinite perspectives of heather, 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 inconsiderable fortresses — made the unchan^inof 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 alleviations, we might almost be said to pass through an unbroken 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 illustrious 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 unfrequented 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 over his green coat, and was accompanied by a horse- woman, his daughter, a young lady of the most charming appearance. They overtook us on a stretch of heath, reined up as they came alongside, and accompanied us for perhaps a quarter of an hour before they galloped off again across the hillsides to our left. Great was my amazement to find the THE DROVERS 69 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, Avell, ye must tell me nothing of that. I am in the law, you know, and iacc is the Latin for a candle,' answered the gentleman. ' But I hope it's nothing bad.' Sim told him it was no more than debt. 'Oh, Lord, if that be all!' cried the gentleman; and turning to myself, ' Well, 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 you should have a guide. The pleasure of this country is much in the legends, which grow as plentiful as blackberries.' And directing my attention 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 tempei-ature 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 fare- well and disappeared with his daughter over the hills. And when I applied to Sim for information, his answer of 'The 70 ST. I FES 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 a distance of about half a league, a second caravan, similar 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 appearance of alarm that seemed to me extraordinary. I 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 un- welcome speed. All day Sim and Candlish, with a more than ordinary expenditure both of snuff and of words, continued to debate the position. It seems that they had recognised 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 congratulated 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 willna 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.' ' Wellj 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, Ronald's gift, the value of which I now appre- ciated, 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, Avhen a growl from one of the collies set us on the alert. All three sat up, and on a second THE DROVERS 71 impulse all lay down 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 drovers, 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 adversary whom 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 weapon ; had and held me at a disadvantage from the first assault; forced me to give ground continually, and at last, in mere self-defence, to let him have the point. 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 dis- continued. 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 conster- nation ; 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. ' I 'm 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. 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 gruel.' ' Weel, I wouldnae wonder,' replied Sim. ' And what is likely to happen ? ' I 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 72 ST. J FES have none of us ever had to deal with, and I could set nae leemit to what Gillies micht consider proper in the affair. For- bye that, he would be in raither a hobble himsel', if he was to gang liame wantin' Faa. Folk are awfu' throng with their questions, and parteecularly when they 're no wantit.' ' That 's a fac'/ said Candlish. I considered this prospect ruefully; and then making the best of itj ' 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 enthu- siasm, '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 ; ])ut the wale of a gentleman like you I have no sae very frequently seen the bate of.' Our night march was accordingly pursued with unremitting diligence. The stars paled, the east whitened, and we were still, both dogs and men, toiling after the wearied 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 pleasure, the reward of my prowess, in the now- loosened tongue of Mr. Sim. Candlish was still obdurately tr'Tjiturn : it was the man's nature ; but Sim, having finally ap- praised and approved me, displaved 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 attri- buted 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 company!' and Sim frequently assuring me in an aside that for ' a I'ale, 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 THE BROVEES 73 ca'd hiiTi Tweedie — ye '11 mind Tweedie, Can'lish?' 'Fine, that !' said Candlish. ' Aweel, Tweedie had a dog ' The story I have forgotten ; I dare say it was dull, and I suspect it was not true ; but indeed, my travels with the drovers had rendered me indulgent, and ])erhaps even credulous, in the matter of dog stories. Beautiful, indefatigable beings ! as I saw them at the end of a long day's journey frisking, barking, bounding, striking attitudes, shmting a bushy tail, manifestly playing to the spectator's eye, manifestly rejoicing 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 imreturned ; in their eyes I was a creature light as air ; and they Avould scarce spare me the time for a ])erfunctory 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 Ave came to separate, there had grown up a certain familiarity and mutual esteem that made the parting harder. It took place about four of the afternoon on a bare hillside from Avhich I could see the ribbon of the great north road, henceforth to be my conductor. I asked what Avas to pay. ' Naething,' replied 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 between 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 placed in no such ridiculous po-sition. 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," ob- served my drover. ' By paying you here and now,' said I. 'There's aye twa to a bargain, Mr. St. Ives,' said he. ' You mean that you will not take it } ' said I. ' There or thereabout,' said he. ' Forbye, that it would set 74 ST. IFES 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 awes siller should never gie siller.' Well, what was there to say? I accepted his rebuke, and bidding the pair farew-ell, set off al.^ne upon my southward 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 decent 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 unfruitfiilly 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 pro- vision 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 suit- able ; 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 sufficient fortune and an idle, curious habit of mind, rambling the country at my own charges, in quest of health, information, and merry adventures. 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 character 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 75 76 ST. IVES me ; I was not made of sugar, I was no mollycoddle to be afraid of an ill-aired bed or a sprinkle of snow ; and I would knock upon the table with \\\\ fist and call for t'other bottle, like the noisy and free-hearted young gentleman 1 Avas. It was my policy (if I may so express myself) to talk much and say little. At the inn tables, the country, 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 myself. 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!' 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 shilling.' A responsible solid fellow was even so much moved by pity for my inexperi- ence as to give me a word or two of good advice : that I was but a young man after all — I had at this time a deceptive air of Aouth that made me easily pass for one-and-twenty, and was, in the circumstances, worth a fortune — that the company at inns was very mingled, 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 die devil was in it. ' You are one of those d d prudent fellows that I could never abide with,' said I. ' 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 Wellington, God bless him I and may victory ever attend upon his arms ! ' and, 'Soult, poor devil ! and may he catch it again to the same tune ! ' THE GREAT NORTH ROAD 'j'j Never was oratory more applauded to the echo — never anyone vas more of the popular man than I. I promise you, we made a night of it. Some of the company supported eacli other, Avith 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 extra- ordinary assemblage of red eyes and shaking fists. I observed patriotism to burn much lower by daylight. Let no one blame me 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, eminently 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 pun- ished 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 authority 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 commander, who once ordered me under arrest for insubordination ; 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 who 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 an3\ 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 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 parti- 78 ST. IFES cularly rich. He — he ! Particularly racy/ said he. * I tell youj sir, I took you wholly ! I smoked you ! I believe you and I, sir, if we had a chance to talk, would find we had a good many opinions in common. Hei'e 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 ? ' Tiiere Avas 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 at- tenuation of a whisper. 'Here, sir,' said he, 'is to the Great Man. I think you take me .'' No ? ' He leaned forward till our noses touched. ' Here is to the Emperor ! ' said he. I was extremely embarrassed, and, in spite of the creature's innocent appearance, more than half alarmed. I thought him too ingenious, and, indeed, too daring for a spy. Yet if he were honest he must be a man of extraordinary indiscretion, and therefore very unfit to be encouraged 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 splendid 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.' ' 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 ai"e 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, en- slaved country we dare not even call our souls our own. The • spy and the hangman, sir — the spv 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 THE GREAT NORTH ROAD 79 a day or so, and join us. We do not use this house. Another, 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 expressed ! ' he cried, expand- ing his small chest. ' Monarchy, Christianity — all the trappings of a bloated past — the Free Confraternity of Durham and Tyne- side deride.' Here was a devil of a prospect for a gentleman whose whole design was to avoid observation ! The Free Confraternity 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-established Christianity,' I observed. ' Ah, sir,' but that was policy ! ' he exclaimed. ' You do not imderstand Napoleon. I have followed his whole career. I can explain his policy from first to last. Now for instance in the Peninsula, on which you were so very amusing, 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 pre- ferred the British tory ; and, making an appointment for the morrow, I pleaded sudden headache, escaped to the inn, packed ray knapsack, and fled, about nine at night, from this accursed neighbourhood. It was cold, stariy, 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 ot 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 pleasure 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 there 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 under Rowland Hill. He was Colbourne's riyht-hand man. In short, this favoured individual appeared to have served with every 8o ST. IVES separate corps, and under every individual general 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 Eng- land, And with that sentiment, which was loudly applauded, I found a corner of a bench, and awaited, with some hopes of entertainment, the return of the hero. He 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 company 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 with 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 sentinel opposite making a signal by holding up his musket. I repeated it, and we both crejjt 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 I returned with a skin of wine, beiiold, 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 interchange of courtesies, but doubtless it would be impossible to wink at so gross a fault, or rather so pitiable a misadventure as mine ; and you 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 whatever of the whereabouts of my musket, beyond that it was somewhere in my Lord Wellington's army. But my Englishman 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 THE GREAT NORTH ROAD 8i 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 till breakfast- time : a happy resolution, which enabled me to observe one ot those traits of manners which at once depict a country and condemn it. It was near midnight when I saAv, 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 procession, 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 Ave were come forth at this unusual hour to celebrate. 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 completed 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 of speech. The cart, with this shabby and tragic freight, and surrounded by its silent escort and bright torches, con- tinued 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 dug in the midst of the thoroughfare, and a provision 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 in-everent 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 Avith 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. My shirt stuck to me, my heart had almost ceased beating, and I found my tongue Avith difficulty. ' I beg j'our pardon,' I gasped to a neighbour^ ' what is this? Avhat has he done ? is it alloAved ? ' 'Why, Avhere do you come from ?' replied the man. ' I am a traveller, sir,' said I, ' and a total stranger in this 82 ST. I FES 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- covery 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 which the Romans honoured as a virtue ! Whenever an Englishman begins to prate of civilisation (as, indeed, it's a defect they are rather prone to), I hear the measured blows of a mallet, see the bystanders 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 attended 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 Courant, and the next morning my pretty chambermaid set the paper before me at breakfast, with the remark that there was some news from my lady-love. I took it eagerly, hoping to find some further 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 them- selves 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 was very lightly made up to what proved a mighty serious matter. Candlish and Sim were all very well in their way, and I do sincerely trust I should have been THE GREAT NORTH ROAD 83 at some pains to help them, had there been nothing else. But in truth my heart and my eyes were set on quite another matter, and I received the news of tlieir 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 confounded 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 exercise 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 bejjan to draw near, bv reasonable stages^ to the neigh- bourhood of Wakefield; and the name of Mr. Burchell Fenn came to the toj) 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 sign- boardj Escapes forwarded, applji 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 extreinely curious. Thanks to my proficiency in English, and Mr. Romaine's bank-notes, I was getting on swimmingly without him : hut the trouble was that I could not be easy till I had come to the bottom of these mysteries, and it was my difficulty that I knew nothing of him beyond the name. I knew not his trade beyond that of Forwarder of Escapes — 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 mjself at his door and find the police in occuj^ation ! The interest of the conundrum, 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 on my good fortune. If Luck (who must certainly be feminine) favoured me as far as to throw me in the man's wav, I should owe the lady a candle; if not, I could very readily console myself. In this experimental humour, and with so little to help me, it was a miracle that I should have brought my enterprise to a good end ; and there are several saints in the calendar who might be happy to exchange with St. Ives ! I had slept that night in a good inn at Wakefield, made my breakfast by candle-light with the passengers of an up-coach, and set off" in a very ill temper with myself and my surround- I FOLLOW A cor FEED CART 85 ings. It was still early; the air raw and cold; the sun low, and soon to disappear ui der a vast canopy of rain-clouds that had begun to assemble in th:; north-west, and from that quarter invaded the whole width of the heaven. Already the rain fell in crystal rods ; already the wliole face of the country sounded with the discharge of drains and ditches ; and I looked forward to a day of downpour and the hell of wet clothes, in which par- ticular 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 overtook the vehicle. The nearer I came, the more it puzzled me. It 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 bigness 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 I They must travel in the dark, for there Avas no 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 ungainly 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 continually and vainly plied his whip. It seemed to follow they liad 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 scai'ce put the one foot before the other, paid no attention to his cruelty ; and I con- tinued M-ithout 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 figure as that a man should flee when 1 86 ST. IVES accosted him ; and my conscience not being entirely clear, f was more accustomed to be uneasy myself than to see others timid. Presently he desisted, and put back his whip in the holster with the air 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, touching his hat. 'And none taken!' cried I. 'All I desire is a little gaiety by the way.' I understood him to say he didn't 'take with gaiety.' ' Then I will try you with something else,' said I. ' Oh, I 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 up with no runagate vagabones, 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 accident 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 demon- stratively on the body of the cart. He had been timorous before ; but at this, he seemed to lose the power of speech 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. ' A propos, what have you for a cargo ? It must be precious.' / FOLLOW A COVERED CART 87 He found not a word to answer. Rat-tat-tat, I went upon the door like a well-drilled 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 immediately 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 for- ward, 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 off" as though drawn by Apollo's coursers. 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 valiantly, to maintain my distance ; and that (since I knew my country- men so near) Avas 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 hobbling 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 presenting 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-fiirmer, careless alike of appearances and substantial comfort. The marks of neglect were visible on every side, in 88 ST. IVES flower-bushes straggling 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 evergreen, fenced the place round and secluded it from the eyes of prying neighbours. As 1 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 tlie 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 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 ray 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 mean- time, 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 gutters of the house roared; the air was filled with the continuous, strident crash. The stolidity of his face, on which the rain streamed, was far from reassuring me. On the contrarv, I was aware of a distinct qualm of apprehension, which was not at all lessened by a view of the driver, craning 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 at the sound, prompt as a transformation, the driver had whipped up his horses and Avas shambling off round the corner of the house, and Mr. Fenn, recovering his wits with a gulp, had turned to the door behind him. 'Come in, come in, sir,' he said. 'I beg j-our pardon, sir; the lock goes a trifle hard.' Indeed, it took him a surprising time to open the door, which I FOLLOW A COVERED CART 89 was not only locked on the outside, but the lock seemed re- bellious from disuse; and when at last he stood back and motioned me to enter before him, I was greeted on the thres- hold by that peculiar and convincing sound of the rain echoing over empty chambers. The entrance-hall, in which I now- found myself, was of a good size and good proportions ; potted plants occupied the corners ; the paved floor was soiled with muddy footprints and encumbered 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 impressions, worked with unusual vivacity. I was here shut off with Fenn and his hireling in a deserted house, a neglected garden, and a wood of evergreens : the most eligible theatre for a deed of darkness. There came to me a vision of two flagstones 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 Avhich I was to begin, when the hall-door was slammed-to behind me with a bang, and I turned, dropping my stick as 1 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. He 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 mouth was open, his face crimson, and he panted aloud with hard animal sounds. The affair 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 exploded, 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 gasped. 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 monster. 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 vehemently framed the same words of supplication. My anger began to 90 ST. IVES 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 beautiful, 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 gaft" 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 ? ' 'I do — I will!' he cried. 'The 'ole crew of 'em; there's good names among 'em. I '11 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 ! Come, stand up ; don't grovel there. Stand up, you lump of iniquity ! ' He scrambled to his feet. He was utterly unmanned, or it might have gone hard with me yet ; and I considei*ed him hesitating, as, indeed, there was cause. The man was a double- d^'ed traitor : he had tried to murder me, and I had first baffled his endeavours and then exposed and insulted him. ^Vas 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 the temptation of the French officers, whom I knew to be so near, and for whose societj'^ I felt so great and natural an impatience. If I was to see anything of my countrymen, 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 dare say you can have no pleasure in calling to mind ; and, to say truth, I would as readily forget it myself. Suppose we try. Take back your pistol, which smells verv ill ; put it in your pocket or wherever you had it concealed. There ! Now / FOLLOW A COVERED CART 91 let us meet for the first time. — Give you good morning, Mr. Fenn I I hope you do very well. I come on the recommenda- tion 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 '11 not deny but what my 'eart failed me a trifle ; but it was only a word, sir, what anybody 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 gentleman 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 '11 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. I am 'eartily grate- ful — 'eartily pleased to be of any service to a gentleman like you, sir, which is related to the Vis-count, and really a fambly 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 family connec- tions ! I followed hirp 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. 92 ST. I FES 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 description of my visit to the back-kitchen ; of how we mulled our ale there, and mulled it very well ; nor of how we sat talking, 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 so vast a humbug. I began to see a kind of beauty in him, his oj)Iomb was so majestic. I never knew a rogue to cut so fat ; his villainy Avas ample, like his belly, and I could scarce find it in my heart to hold him responsible for either. He w^as good enough to drop into the autobiographical ; telling me how the farm, in spite of the war and the high prices, had proved a disappointment; how there was ^a sight of cold, wet land as you come along the 'igh-road'; how the winds and rains and the seasons had been misdirected, it seemed 'o' purpose'; how Mrs. Fenn had died — 'I lost her coming two year agone ; a remarkable fine woman, my old girl, sir ! if you '11 excuse me,' he added, with a burst of humility. In short, he gave me an opportunity of studying John Bull, as I may say, stuffed naked — his greed, his usuriousness, his hypocrisy, his perfidy of the back-stairs, all swelled to the superlative — such as was Avell 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 Fenn had 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 fellow-passengers. There were two of them^ it appeared, and my heart beat as I ap- proached the door. The specimen of Perfidious Albion whom I had just been studying gave me the stronger zest for my fellow-countiymen. 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 library, 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 together at the far end ; 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 pile of coals smoked prodigiously 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 up, his knees touched the bars, his hands were spread in the very smoke, and yet he shivered for cold. The second — a big, florid, fine animal of a man, whose every gesture 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 con- tinual stream of bluster, complaint, 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 93 94 ST. IVES 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 represented 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 the 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 I And who is to pay for you, my fine fellow .'' ' he inquired. 'If monsieur comes to that,' I answered civilly, 'who paid for him ? ' ' Oh, if you choose to play the wit ! ' said he, — and began 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 millions 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 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 Worcestershire sauce ! Now I, with my catarrh, I have no appetite ; 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 couTitry ! And cold, too ! They talk about Russia — this is all the cold 1 want ! And the people — look at them ! What a race ! Never any handsome men; never any fine officers!' — and he looked down compla- cently 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 agreement 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.' / MEET TWO OF MY COUNTRYMEN 95 He Avliipped round on his heel and turned on me a counte- nance uhich I dare say he imagined to be awful ; but another fit of sneezing cut him oft' ere he could come tlie length of speech. ' I have not tried the dish myself/ I took the opportunity 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. ' SharnCj 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. Monsieur le Commaiidant, 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 ' — af 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 reflect 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 before me, and I have to w^ait, 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 (lelaved 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.' ' That is past praying for,' said the Colonel ; and immediately 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. The 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 96 Sr. IVES hands with the Major (which he did with a very ill grace), and abounded in palinodes and apologies. 'After all/ said I, ' who am I to talk ? I am in the luck to be a private soldier ; I have no parole to give or to keep ; once I am over the rampart, I am as tree as air. I beg you to believe that I regret from my soul the use of these ungenerous expres- sions. Allow me ... Is there 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. 'Oh, sir!' says he, 'keep away from those there windows. 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 mean- time, for God's sake, fetch us a bottle of brandy ! 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 business, or because the coals were noAv 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. With the outburst of the flames, besides, a draught Avas established, which immediately delivered ys from the plague of smoke ; and by the time Fenn returned, carrying 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 character 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 r' 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 ijoes to the heart.' / MEET TWO OF MY COUNTRYMEN 97 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 foolish 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 the bottle in the air and played tricks wdth it ; and at last, having exhausted his ingenuity, and seeing rae remain quite blind tD 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 positively thought I should have eaten nothing, but your fortunate idea of the brandy has made quite a new man of me — quite a new man.' And he Avould fall to with a great air of heartiness, cut himself a mouthful, and, before he had swallowed it, would have forgotten his dinner, his company, the place where he then was, and the escape he was engaged on, and become absos-bed in the vision of a sick-room and a dying girl in France. The pathos of this continual pre- occupation, 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 bravado 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 seemingly suspended — the very image of dissolution. This left the Major and myself alone at the table. You must not suppose our tete-a-icle 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, quarrelled, made it 98 ST. IVES up again, and at last tried to throw the dinner-plates through the window, a feat of which he was at that time quite incap;ible. For a party of fugitives, condemned to the most rigorous discretion, there was never seen so noisy a carnival ; and through it all the Colonel 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 wrong-headedness 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 military 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 goo 1 bed ; I was denied the resource of slumber; and there was nothing open forme but to pace the apartment, maintain the fire, and brood on my position. I compared yesterday and to-day — the safV-ty, com- fort, jollity, open-air exercise and pleasant roadside inns of the one, with the tedium, anxiety, and discomfort of the other. I remembered that I was in the hands of Fenn, who coidd not be more false — though he might be more vindictive — -ihan I fancied him. I looked forward to nights of pitching in the covered 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 sluik off ere it was too late, and return to my former solitary way of travel. But the Colonel stood in the path. I had not seen much of him ; but already 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 and sorrow. I could not turn my back on his distress ; could not leave him alone with the selfish trooper who snored on the next mattress. ' Cliampdivers, 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 wjjitry pomp — when the current of my reflections was erfV-ctually 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 licpior when they arrived, and, before they left, inimitably drunk. They stayed long in the kitchen with Burchell, drinkinerfect master of himself, smiling with airs of conscious popu- larity and insufferable condescension. He reminded me at once of a royal duke, or an actor turned a little elderly, and of a blatant bagman who should have been the illegitimate son of 1 gentleman. A moment after he was gliding noiselessly on e road to London. 1 62 ST. I FES I breathed again. I recognised, with heartfelt gratitude, 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 tliat there was a waiter present. No doubt but lie must have observed me when I crouched be- hind the breakfast equipage; no doubt but he must have commented on this unusual and undignified behaviour; and it was essential that I should do something to remove the im- pression. 'Waiter!' said I, 'that was the nephew of Count Carwell that just drove off, wasn't it.^' ' YeSj sir: Viscount Carwell we calls him/ he replied. ' Ah, I thought as much,' said I. ' Well, well, damn all these FrenchiTfien, say I ! ' ' You may say 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 paper. I suppose, sir, he come on some pilitical information, or it might be about 'orses, but he raps his 'and upon the table sudden and calls for cura9oa. It gave me quite a turn, it did ; he did it that sudden and 'ard. Now, sir, that may be manners in France, but hall I can say is, that I 'm not used to it.' ' Reading the paper, was he } ' said I. ' What paper, 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 Romaine's apprehen- sion was before me ; the paper was laid open at the capture of Clausel. I felt as if I could take a little cura9oa 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 J 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 A CLARET-COLOURED CHAISE 163 chaise! That elegant equipage (whicli I began to regard as httle 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 direction and equal speed. CHAPTER XXII CHARACTER AND ACQUIREMENTS OF MR. ROWLEY I AM not certain that I had ever really appreciated before that hour the extreme peril of the adventure on which I was embai'ked. 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 hyper- bolical curls in order, with his neckcloth tied as if for the con- quests 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 winter'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 going per- sonally into these egregious dangers, and through a country that I beheld crowded with gibbets and Bow Street officers. As for Sim and Candlish, I doubt if they crossed my mind. At the Green Dragon Rowley was waiting on the doorsteps with the luggage, and really was bursting with unpalatable conversation. 'Who do you think we've 'ad 'ex'e, sir .''' he began breath- lessly, as the chaise drove off. ' Red Breasts ' ; and he nodded his head portentousl}'. CHARACTER OF MR. ROWLEY 165 ' Red Breasts?' I repeated, for I stupidly did not understand at the moment an exjii-ession I had often heard. ' Ah ! ' said he. ' Red weskits. Runners. Bow Sti-eet runners. Two on 'em, and one Avas Lavender himself! I hear the otlier say quite plain, " Now, Mr. Lavender, if you 're ready." They Avas breakfasting as nigh me as I am to that postbo}^ They 're all right ; they ain't after us. It 's a forger ; and I didn't send them off on a false scent — O 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 'andcuft's, 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. ' Begging your pardon, Mr. Ramornie. But I've been very piticular, sir, up to now ; and you may trust me to be very piticular in the future. It Avere 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 Avrong. I have seen two divisions beating their brains out for a fortnight against a woi'thless and quite impregnable 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 foinid any way out of his own words; and I highly admired his force of character, aid throughout these operations thought my life exposed in a >ery good cause. With fools and children, which included iiowley, the necessity was even greater. I proposed to myself to be infallible ; and even when he expressed some wonder at die purchase of the claret-coloured chaise, I put him promptly ;n 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 ;o positive, that I had sometimes almost convinced myself. Not for long, you may be certain ! This detestable conveyance 1 66 ST. I FES always appeared to me to be laden with Bow^ Street officers, and to have a ])lacard upon the back of it publishing my name and crimes. If I had paid seventy pounds to get tlae thing, I shoidd not have stuck at seven hundred to be safely rid of it. And if the chaise was a danger, Avhat an anxiety Avas 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 connnissariat as by ubiquitous doves of Elijah — or, my faith ! if anything went wrong with the commissariat, helping myself with the best grace in the world from the next peasant ! And now I began to feel at the same time the bin-then 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 tliousand agonies ; I kept it under my hand all day, I dreamed of it at night. In the inns, I w'as 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 thousand pounds on my own person, and only the residue continued 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 sovereigns. 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 I In short, I set Rowlej' 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 melodra- matic position. All day he would be looking from the chaise windows with ebullitions of gratified curiosity, that were some- times 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 Avas like the letter Y ? \\'hat exhilaration could I feel in viewing a cottage that was the same colour as ' the second from the miller's' in some place whei'e I had never been, and of which I had not previously heard? I am ashamed to complain, but there were moments when my juvenile and confidential fi-iend weighed heavy on my hands. His cackle was indeed almost continuous, but it was never unamiable. He showed an amiable CHARACTER OF MR. ROWLEY 167 curiosity when he was asking questions ; an amiable guileless- ness Avhen he was conferring information. And both he did largely. I am in a position to write the biographies of Mr. Rowley, Mr. Rowley'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 copp'ight, prevail on me to withhold them. A general design to mould himself upon my example became early apparent, and 1 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 tlie shoulders ; and I may say it was by observiug it in him that I first discovered it in mvself. 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 I '11 be Catholic too I ' he broke out. ' You must teach me it, Mr. Anne — I mean, Ramornie.' I dissuaded him : alleging that he would find me veiy imper- fectly informed as to the grounds and doctrines of the Church, and tliat, after all, in the matter of religions, it was a veiy 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 1 was exactly thinking of hell. Then there's the inquisition, too. That 's rather a cawker, you know.' • And I don't believe you were thinking of anything in the v\'orld,' 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 pocket, he had the duplicity to ask me if I played upon it. I answered, no ; and he put the instrument away with a sigh and the remark that he had thought I might. For some while he resisted the unspeakable temptation, his fingers visibly itching and twittering about his pocket, even his intei'est in the landscape and in sporadic anecdote entii'ely 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. 1 68 ST. IVES And then he broke down. ' Mr. Ramornie, if you please, would it disturb you, sir, if I was to play a chune ? ' he pleaded. And 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 w'ould make haste to cap with some of the exploits of Wallace, the only hero with whom he had the least acquaintance. His enthusiasm was genuine and pretty. When he learned we were going to Scotland, 'Well, then,' he broke out, 'I'll see whei-e Wallace lived ! ' And presently aftei% he fell to moral- ising. 'It's a strange thing, sir,' he began, 'that I seem some- how 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 '11 see whether or not! Oh, yes, I'm English to the backbone, I am. And 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 j'our 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 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 continued 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 resolution ; and in a moment all was light about me like a theatre, and I saw myself upon the stage of it playing ignoble 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 CHARACTER OF MR. ROWLEY 169 fought for her, and some had died ; tlie voice in my throat, the sight of my eyes, the tears that now sprang there, the wholeman of nie, was fashioned of French earth and born of a French mother ; I had been tended and caressed by a suc- cession of the daughters of France, the fairest, the most ill- starred ; and I had fought and conquered shoulder to shoulder with her sons. A soldier, a noble, of the proudest and bravest race in Europe, it had been left to the prattle of a hobbledehoj^ 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 indecision. 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 off on the morrow for Wakefield and Burchell Fenn, and embark, as soon as it should be morally possible, for the succour of my downtrodden fatherland and my beleaguered Emperor. 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 Avas 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 Candlish 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 personal and private. If France fell in the interval for the lack of Anne de St.-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 conscience very much relieved, and Avoke again in the morning Avith a light heart. The veiy danger of the enterprise reassured me : to save Sim and Candlish (suppose the worst to come to the worst) it Avould be necessary for me to declare myself in a court of justice, with consequences which I did not dare to dwell upon ; it could never be said that I had I70 ST. IVES 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 : thencefor- ward posted day and night ; did not halt beyond what was necessary for meals ; and the postillions were excited by gratuities, after the habit of my cousin Alain. For twopence I could have gone farther and taken four horses ; so extreme was my haste, running as I was before the terrors of an awakened conscience. But I feared to be conspicuous. Even as it was, we attracted only too much attention, with our pair and that white elephant, the seventy-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 humilia- tion ; and I Avas 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 Lichfield, I became the distracted master, and he the scholai* — how shall I say ? indefatigable, but uninspired. His interest never flagged. He would hear the same word twenty times with profound refreshment, mispronounce it in several different ways, and forget it again with magical celerity. Say it happened to be stirrup. ' 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, Avhen 1 had told it him again, ' Etrier ! ' he would cry. • ' To be sure ! I had it on the tip of my tongue. Elcrier !' (going wrong already, as if by a fatal instinct). ' What will I remember it by, now .'' ^\ hj ;, interior, to be sure ! I '11 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 gi'ound at a normal I'ate. He came up smiling day after day. ' Now, sir, shall we do our French ? ' he would say; and I would put questions, 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 ]:)eriod of these lessons seemed to unroll before me vast as eternity, and 1 saw myself a CHARACTER OF MR. ROWLEY 171 teacher of a hundred, and Rowley a pupil of ninety, still hammering on the rudiments I The -wretched boy, I should say, was quite unspoiled by the inevitable familiarities of tlie journey. He turned out at each stage the pink of serving-lads, deft, civil, prompt, attentive, touching 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 one thing I had chosen — learning French ! CHAPTER XXIII THE ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE The country 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 trees, 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 these same leagues of road — which Rowley 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 northwards 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 passionate regret. At leather an ugly corner of an ujihill reach I came on the Avreck of a chaise lying on one side in the ditch, a man and a woman in animated discourse in the middle of the road, and the two postillions, each with his pair of horses, looking on and laughing from the saddle. 'Morning breezes! hei*e's a smash ! ' cried Rowley, pocket- ing his flageolet in the middle of the Tight Little Island, 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 Avhen the lower classes laugh : their taste in humour is both poor and sinister; and for a man, running the posts with four horses, presumably 172 THE ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 173 with open pockets, and in the company of the most entrancing little creature conceivable, to have come clown so far as to be laughed at by his own postillions, was only to be explained 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 seventeen, 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 Sonnthias, the child had made a rash adventure 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 bciug interrupted in a scene. I uncovered to the lady and placed my services at their disposal. It was the man who answered. 'There's no use in sham- ming, sir,' said he. 'This lady and I have run away, and her father's after us: road to Gretna, sir. And here have these nincompoops spilt us 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 pursued civilly. 'O God !' cried the hawbuck. 'In short, you see, we must get out of this. And I '11 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 dispute, and the fellow appeared life-sized in his true colours. ' That's Avhat 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.' 174 ST. I FES He turned on me raging. 'And who are you to interfere?' 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 you 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 chaise, if you 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. He cast another haggard look down the road, and capitulated. ' I am sui'e, 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; Rowley, grinning from ear to ear, closed the door behind us ; the two impudent rascals of post-boys cheered and laughed aloud as we drove off; and my own jiostillion 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 lap in her black lace mittens. ' Madam ' I began. And she, in the same moment, finding her voice : ' O, 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 ought 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 you to her arms: conceive that she has sent me — that she has said to me, '■ Go, be her knight ! " ' ' O, 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 erralum 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 THE ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 175 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. 'I 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 . . . O, what a moment was that ! But I knew at once that you were ; you had but to appear from your carriage, and I knew it. O, 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. O, 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-companions ! ' she added. ' O, not so bad as that ! ' I cried. ' Come, come, you exag- gerate, 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 con- ceal 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 ! O, dear me, what a wicked, piggish donkey of a girl I have made of myself, to be sure ! And there is no hope ! O, 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 l)ench, 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 immediate and perfect disenchantment 176 ST. I FES on the part of the little lady. ' And there is nothing to be done ! ' slie wailed in conclusion. ' My error is irretrievable, I am quite forced to that conclusion. O, Monsieur de Saint- Yves ! 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 conversation. 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 ai'dour. Well, these great strokes of fortune usually befall the unworthy, and Bellamy was now the legitimate object of my commiseration and the ridicule of his own post-boys ! ' Miss Dorothy/ said I, ' vou wish to be delivered from this man ?' ' O, if it were possible ! ' she cried. ' But not by violence.' 'Not in the least, ma'am,' I replied. 'The simplest thing in life. We are in a civilised country ; the man s a male- factor ' ' O, 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 consider- able interval, I hailed my post-boy and inquired who was the nearest magistrate and where he lived. Archdeacon 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 postillion. And before I could have thought it possible, he had turned the carriage to the rightabout and we were galloping south. Our outriders were quick to remark and imitate the manoeuvre, and came flying after us with a vast deal of indis- criminate shouting ; so that the fine, sober picture of a carriage and escort, that we had presented but a moment back, was transformed in the twinkling of an eye into the image of a noisy fox-chase. The two postillions and my own saucy rogue were, of course, disinterested actors in the comedy ; they rode for the THE ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 177 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 highwayman ! ' It was otherguess work with Bellamy. That gentleman no sooner observed our change of dii'ection 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 was 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, desert- ing the other window, turned as if to meet me. ' O, O, don't let him kill me !' she screamed. ' Never fear,' I replied. Her face was distorted with terror. Her hands took hold upon me Avith 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 falling — 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 inter- jected his head, his pistol arm, and his pistol ; and since his own horse Avas 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 he left the charge of the pistol behind him — whether by design or accident I shall never know, and I dare say 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. Rowley 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 accordingly, but now at a more decent pace, we proceeded on our way to Archdeacon Ciitheroe's. Missy's gratitude and admiration Avere aroused ta a high pitch by this dramatic scene, and what she was pleaseti to call my wound. She must dress it for me with her handker- 178 ST. I FES chief, a service which slie rendered me even Avith 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. Indeed, I would have suggested for her kind care rather the cure of my coat-sleeve, Avhich 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-i'espect ; and I could hear her relate the incident to ' the young ladies, my school- companions,' in the most approved manner of Mrs. Kadcliffe ! 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 steps, and made way for us on our apj)roach ; 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 adjurations, calling him father, assuring him she was wholly cured and entirely repentant of her disobedience, and entreating forgiveness ; and I soon saw that she need fear no great severity from Mr. Greensleeves, who showed himself extra- ordinarily fond, loud, greedy of caresses and pi'odigal of tears. To give myself a countenance, as well as to have all ready for the road when I should find occ;tsion, I turned to quit scores with Bellamy's two postillions. 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 beginning, and had gone off in the fifth act so like a melodi'ama, 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 re- mained for me, therefore, to settle on that gratuity which should be least conspicuous — so lai'ge that nobody could grumble, so small that nobody would be tempted to boas*:. My decision was hastily and not wisely taken. The one fello-v spat on his tip (so he called it) for luck ; the other developing a sudden streak of piety, prayed God bless me with fervour. THE ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY COUPLE 179 It seemed a demonstration was brewing, and I determined to be off at once. Bidding my own post-boy and Rowley be in readiness for an immediate start, I reascended the terrace and presented myself, hat in hand, before Mr. Greensleeves and the archdeacon. ' You Avill excuse me, I trust,' 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 tlie 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 — up 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 Rowley and the five postillions 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 ray own name resounding amid acclamations in the hills (if Westmorland was flattering, perhaps; but it was incon- venient at a moment when (as I was morally persuaded) police handbills were already speeding after me at the rate of a hundred miles a day. Nor was that the end of it. The archdeacon must present lis comjiliments, and pressed upon me some of his West India ;herry, and I was carried into a vastly fine library, where I was jn'csented to his lady wife. While we Avere at sherry in the library, ale was handed round upon the terrace. Speeches were ■ made, hands were shaken. Missy (at her father's request) kissed ne farewell, and the whole party reaccompanied me to the errace, where they stood waving hats and handkerchiefs, and rying farewells to all the echoes of the mountains until the .haise had disappeared. The echoes of the mountains Avere engaged in saving to me privately : ' You fool, you have done it now ! ' • 'They do seem to have got 'old of your name, Mr. Anne,' Aid Rowley. 'It weren't my fault this time.' / ' It was one of those accidents that can never be foreseen,' aid I, affecting a dignity that I was far from feeling. ' Some jne recognised me.' i8o ST. IVES ' Which on 'em, Mr. Anne ? ' said the rascal. ' That is a senseless question ; it can make no difference ^vho it was/ I returned. ' No, nor that it can't ! ' cried Rowley. ' 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 postillion in front of us, as he alternately hid and revealed his patched breeches to the trot of his iiorse. ' He see you get in this morning under Mr. Ramoniie — I was very piticular to Mr. Ramoniie you, if you remember, sir — and he see you get in again under Mr. Saint Eaves, and Avhatever'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 siratclcgic ! ' ' Panrblcu ! will you let me be ! ' I cried. ' I have to think ; you cannot imagine how your constant idiotic prattle annoys me.' * Beg pardon, Mr. Anne/ said he ; and the next moment, ' You wouldn't like for us to do our French now, would you, 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 infant, and read offensive meanings into his idle tootling. I took off my coat, and set to mending it, soldier-fashion, with a needle and thread. There is nothing more conducive to thought, above all in arduous circumstances ; and as I sewed, 1 gradually gained a clearness upon my affairs. I must be done with 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 ! CHAPTER XXIV THE INN-KEEPER OF KIRKBV-LONSDALE I HAD hitherto conceived and partly carried out an ideal that \vas dear to my heart. Rowley 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 civilities of drill. We would pass through the little crowd before the door with high-bred preoccupation, inoffensively haughty, after the best English pattern; and disappear within, followed by the envy and admiration of the bystanders, a model master and servant, point-device in every part. 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 chaise and four. My own post-boy, he of the patched breeches, now stood before me, his eyes glittering with greed, his hand advanced. It Avas plain he anticipated something extraordinary by way of a pourhoire ; and considering the marches and counter- marches by which I had extended the stage, the military char- acter of our affairs with Mr. Bellamy, and the bad example I had set before him at the archdeacon's, something exceptional was certainly to be done. But these are always nice questions, to a foreigner above all : a shade too little will suggest nig- gardliness, a shilling too much smells of hush-money. Fresh irom the scene at tlie archdeacon's, and fluslied by the idea that I was now nearly done Avith the responsibilities of the claret-coloured chaise, I put into his hands five guineas ; and the amount served only to waken his cupidity. ' O, 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 fible of Kirkby-Lonsdale if I did ; and I looked him in the 1 82 ST. IVES 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 conjurer, and, like a base-born cockney as he Avas, fell instantly to casting dirt. ' 'Ave your own way of it, Mr. Ramornie — leastways Mr. St. Eaves, or whatever your blessed name may be. Look 'ere' — turning for sympathy 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 anything you care to men- tion, and turns out to be a blessed mouiiseer 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 ! ' Tlie fellow's language had become too powerful for repro- duction, and I passed it by. Meanwhile I observed Rowley fretting visibly at the bit ; another moment, and he would have added a last toucli of tlie ridiculous to our arrival by coming to his hands with the postillion. ' Rowley ! ' cried I reprovingly. Strictly it should have been Gammon ; but in tlie hurry of the moment, my ftiult (I can only hope) passed unjierceived. At the same time I caught the eye of the postmaster. He was long and lean, and brown and bilious ; he had the drooping nose of the humourist, and the quick attention of a man of parts. He read my embarrassment in a glance, stepped in- stantly forward, sent the post-boy to the rightabout with half a word, and was back next moment at my side. • Dinner in a private room, sir } Very well. John, No. 4 ! What wine would you care to mention ? Very w'ell, sir. Will you please to order fresh horses } Not, sir? Very well.' Each of these expressions was accompanied by something in the nature of a bow, and all Avere prgfaced-iay something in the nature of a smile, which I could very well have done Avithout. The man's politeness was from the teeth outwards ; behind and Avithin, I AA'as conscious of a perpetual scrutiny: the scene at his doorstep, the random confidences of the post-boy, had not been thrown aAvay on this observer; and it AA'as xmder a strong fear of coming trouble that I Avas shoAvn at last into my private room. I Avas in half a mind to have put off the Avhole business. But the truth is, noAv my name had got abroad, my fear of the mail that Avas coming, and the handbills it should contain, had waxed inordinately, and I felt I could never eat a meal in THE INN-KEEPER OF KIRKBY-LONSDALE 183 peace till I had severed my connection with the claret-coloured chaise. Accordingly, as soon as I had done with dinner, I sent my comphments to the landlord and requested he should take a glass of wine with me. He came ; we exchanged the necessary 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 ? ' He nodded. ' And I was so unlucky as to get a pistol ball in the panel of my chaise,' I continued, 'Avliich 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, recalling 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 i/oti,' 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 examine them .^ ' 'Well, you see, this paper proves that some Mr. Ramornie 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. Ramoi'nie ? ' ' Fellow ! ' cried I. 1 84 ST. I FES ' O, fellow as much as you please I ' 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 ray door. In short, sir, you may be a very good gentleman ; but I don't know enough about you, and I '11 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 stammei-ed, for though I had found my voice, I could scarce be said to have recovered my wits, ' this is most unusual, most rude. Is it the custom in Westmorland that gentlemen should be insulted ?' 'That depends,' said he. ' When it's suspected that gentle- men are spies it is the custom ; and a good custom, too. No, no,' he broke out, perceiving me to make a movement. ' Both 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 monument of tranquillity : pray may I help myself to wine without umbraging 3'ou ? ' 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 capitu- atle one moment too soon. ' Am I to take that for tio ? ' he asked. 'Referring to your former obliging proposal.'' 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 little 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. ' Really, 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 vour highly original character.' THE IXX-KEEPER OF KIRKBY-LOXSDALE 1S5 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", impudence an hour ago ; and by my continued endurance of the ordeal, I Avas simply signing and sealing my confession ; 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.' 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 '11 deal square. I '11 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 than it cost,' he added, with a grin, 'and you know you must get it off your hands somehow.' I do not know when I have been better entertained than by this impudent proposal. It A\as 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. ' You droll creature, you will be the death of me yet ! ' I cried, drying my eyes. Mv 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 possible he was mistaken. 'You seem rather to enjoy a laugh, sir,' said he. ' O, ves ! I am quite an original,' I replied, and laughed again. Presently, in a changed voice, he offered me twenty pounds for the chaise ; 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 view at any price of 1 86 ST. IVES securing a safe retreat. For, although hostilities were suspended, he was yet far from satisfied; antl 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 liim away alone ; now, if ever, he would take Avhat was the only sensible resource, and fetch the constable. But there was something instinc- tively treacherous about the man which shrank from plain courses. And, with all his cleverness, he missed the occasion of fame. Rowley and I were suffered to walk out of his door, with all our baggage, on foot, with no destination named, exce})t 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 appeared ! That I should have risked perishing upon a trumpery question of a pourboire, depicted in lively colours the perils that perpetually 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 shipwrecked 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 cood-nature. CHAPTER XXV 1 MEET A CilEERFLL 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 })art I have no cause to recall tliese particular miles with any pleasure. We were mainly occupied with attempts to obliterate our trail, which (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 Avhen Mr. Rowley and I bowled into Edinburgh to tlie 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 ex- ploits ; 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 it was my practice (before the days of Flora) to make myself conspicuous among the prisoners ; and I think it an extraordinary 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-yellow to fine Hnen, 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 miserable prisoner in the Castle. 187 1 88 .ST. IVES 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 overladen with baggage. We carried it ourselves. I would not take a cab, nor so much as hire a porter, 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 regards caution) with a new character. The first step was to find lodgings, and to find them quickly. This was the more needful as Mr. Rowley 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, Avhich 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' Square I was so happy as to spy a bill in a third-floor window. I was equally indifferent to cost and convenience in my choice of a lodging — ' any port in a storm' was the principle on which I was prepared to act; and Rowley and I made at once for the common entrance and scaled the stair. We were adnntted by a very sour-looking female in bom- bazine. 1 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 lowered my voice when I addressed her. She admitted she had rooms to let — even showed them to us — a sitting-room and bedroom in a suite, commanding a fine prospect to the Firth and Fifeshire, and in themselves Avell proportioned and comfortably furnished, with pictures on the wall, shells on the mantelpiece, and several books upon the table which I found afterwards to be all of a dev^otional character, and all presentation copies, 'to my Christian friend,' or 'to my devout acquaintance in the Lord, Bethiah McRankiue.' 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 ' r head, and at times mourning like the dove, the picture uf depression and defence. She had a voice the most querul(>'is I have ever heard, and with this she produced a whole regiment of difficulties and criticisms. She could not promise an attendance. / MEET A CHEERFUL EXTRA FAGAXT 189 'Well, madam/ said I, 'and \vhat is my servant for.-' ' Him ? ' she asked. ' Be gude to us ! Is he your servant ? ' 'I am sorrV;, maam, he meets •with your disapproval.' ' Na, I never said that. But he 's young. He '11 be a great breaker, I 'm thinkin'. Ay ! he '11 be a great responsibeelity to ye, like. Does he attend to his releegion .- ' '^Yes, m'm,' returned Rowley, ■\vitli admirable promptitude, and, immediately closing his eyes, as if from habit, repeated the following distich with more celerity than fervour : — ' Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, Bless the bed that I lie on ! ' ' Nhm ! ' said the lady, and. maintained an awful silence. '^Well, ma'am/ said I, 'it seems Ave 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 unexceptionable,' said I. 'Ye '11 be wantin' breakfast late .^ ' Avas 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, betAveen laughter and tears. 'Here — this is going to end ! I Avant you for a landlady — let me tell you that ! — and I am going to have my A\ay. You Avon't tell me Avhat a'Ou charge ? Very Avell ; I Avill do Avithout ! I can trust you ! You don't seem to knoAv Avhen you haA'e a good lodger ; but I knoAv perfectly Avhen I have an honest landlady ! RoAA^ley, unstrap the valises I ' Will it be credited ? The monomaniac fell to rating me for niA' indiscretion ! But the battle Avas over ; these Avere her last guns, and more in the nature of a salute than of I'enewed hostilities. And presently she condescended on A'ery moderate terms, and Rowley and I Avere able to escape in quest of supper. Much time had, hoAA-cAer, been lost; the sun Avas long doAvn, the lamps glimmered along the streets, and the Aoice of a Avatchman already resounded in the neighbouring Leith Road. On our first arrival I had observed a place of entertainment not far off, in a street behind the Register House. Thither Ave found our Avay, and sat doAvn to a late dinner alone. But Ave I go ST. I FES 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 you good evening, most grave and reverend seniors ! ' said he. ^ Will you permit a wanderer, a pilgrim — the pilgrim of love, in short — to come to temporary anchor under your lee .'' I care not who knows it, but I have a passionate aversion from the bestial practice of solitary feeding ! ' '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 liazy eye on me, as he sat down. ' Sir,' said he, ' you are a man not without some tincture of letters, I perceive! What shall we drink, sir?' I mentioned I had already called for a pot of porter. ' A modest pot — tiie 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 Avalking wearied my — well, it seems to be more my eyes I ' ' You have walked far, I dare say ? ' I suggested, 'Not so much 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 ! — there is, in this city of Dunedin, a certain implication of streets Avhich reflects the utmost credit on the designer and the publicans — at every hundred yards is seated the Judicious Tavern, so that persons of contemplative 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 m ' I began. ' O, don't make any bones about it ! ' lie interrupted. ' Of course it struck you ! and let me tell you I was devilish lucky not to strike myself When I entered this apartment I shone " with all the pomp and prodigality of brandy and water," as the poet Gray has in another place expressed it. Powerful bard, Gi-ay ! 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. Tcmideni'm, quoad me ipsum, hreris 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 / MEET A CHEERFUL EXTRAVAGANT 191 only washed ! I intend to found a Philanthropical Society for Washing the Deserving Poor and Shaving Soldiers. I am pleased" to observe that, although not of an unmilitary bearing, you are apparently shaved. In iny calendar of the virtues shaving comes next to drinking. A gentleman may be a low- minded ruffian without sixpence, 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, without one thought of the plausible but unsatisfactory small beer, or the healthful though insipid soda-water, I take the deadly razor in my vacillating grasp ; I proceed to skate upon the margin of eternity. Stimulating thought! I bleed, perhaps, but with medicable wounds. The stubble reaped, I pass out of my chamber, calm but triumphant. To employ a hackneyed phrase, I would not call Lord Welling- ton my uncle ! I, too, have dared, perhaps bled, before the imminent deadly shaving-table.' In this manner the bombastic fellow continued to entertain me all through dinner, and by a common error of drunkards, because he had been extremely talkative himself, 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 wliich 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, fas- cinating stranger, — I offer it to you ! ' ' And who is your friend Icarus.^ ' I asked. ' The aspiring son of Daedalus ! ' said he. ' Is it possible that you have never heard the name of Byfield .^ ' ' Possible and true,' said I. ' And is fiime so small a thing } ' cried he. ' Byfield, sir, is an aei'onaut. 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 unmoved. I care not a Tinker's Damn for his ascen- sion. No more — I breathe it in your ear — does anybody else. The business is stale, sir, stale. Lunardi did it, and overdid it. A whimsical, fiddling, vain fellow, by all accounts — for I Avas at that time rocking in my cradle. But once was enough. If Lunardi went up and came down, there was the matter settled. 192 Sr. IVES We prefer to grant the point. We do not want to see the experiment repeated ad 7iauseam by Byfield, and Brown, and Butler, and Brodie, and Bottomley. Ah ! if they would go up and not come down again ! But this is by the question. The University of Cramond delights to honour merit in the man, sir, rather than 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 aftei'wards that this was more my business than I thought it at the time. Indeed, I was impatient 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 1 remembered I was due else- where. CHAPTER XXVI THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT At the door I was nearly blown back by the unbridled violence of the squall, and Rowley and I must shout our parting words. All the way along Princes Sti-eet (whither my way led) the wind hunted me behind and screamed in my ears. The city Avas 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 pavements, 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-liouse, 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 destina- tion, 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 inanity of that fool's 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 uphill, 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 rustic 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 tempest. The rain, on the other hand, settled into a steady deluge, which had soon drenched me thoroughly. I continued to tramp forward in the night, contending with gloomy thoughts and accompanied by the dismal ululation of the dogs. What ailed them that they should have been thus wakeful, and perceived the small sound N 194 ST. I FES of my steps amid the general reverberation of the rain, was more than I could fancy. I remembered tales with Avhich I had been entertained in childhood. I told myself some murderer was going by, and the brutes perceived upon him the faint smell of bk)od ; and the next moment, with a physical 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 interview when your spirits are depressed, your clothes muddy, and your hands wet ! But the boisterous night was in itself favourable to my enter- ])rise : 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 would certainly be another. Arrived in the cottage-garden I tound the circumstances mighty inclement. From the round holes in the shutters of the parlour, shafts of candle-light streamed forth ; elsewhere the darkness was complete. The trees, the thickets, were saturated ; the lower parts of the garden turned into a morass. At inter- vals, when the wind broke forth again, there ])assed overhead a wild coil of clashing branches ; and between whiles the whole enclosure continuously and stridently resounded with the rain. I advanced close to the window and contrived to read the f^ice of my watch. It was half-past seven ; they would not retire before ten, they might not before midnight, and the prospect was unpleasant. In a lull of the wind I could hear from the inside the voice of Flora reading aloud ; the words of course inaudible — only a flow of undeci})herable speech, quiet, cordial, 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 hoiirs I must now suffer the elements 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 weather no less vile, sometimes unsuppered and with nothing 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 disappeared from the parlour and reappeared a moment after in the room above. I was pretty well informed for the enterprise that lay before me. I knew the lair of the dragon — that which was just THE- COTTAGE AT NIGHT 195 illuminated. I knew the buwer of my^ Rosamond, 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, whether 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 it had not stopped, and was succeeded by the drip})ing 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 soiaid 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 tlie night, and where she now sat, roseate and pensive, in the siiine of two candles falling from behind, her tresses deeply embower- ing 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 returning, though without wind, I approached until I could almost have touched her. It seemed a grossness of which 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 dis- couraged me like an angel, or what I suspect to be the next most discouraging, a modern lady. But as I continued to gaze, hope and life returned to me ; I forgot my timiditv, I forgot 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 upon tlie illuminated image of the window, the straight shadows of iiie ')><•; s, the glinting of pebbles on the path, and the impene- a')!c aight on the garden and the hills beyond it, she heaved deep breath that struck upon my heart like an apj^eal. ■' Why does Miss Gilchrist sigh ? ' I whispered. ' Does she i'-A\ absent friends .'*' ;Sl,e turned her head swiftly in my direction ; it was tlie only ■::\ of surprise she deigned to make. At tlie same time I !• )ed into the light and bowed profoundly. 196 ST. IVES ' You ! ' she said. ' Here ? ' 'Yes, I am here/ I repUed. 'I have come very far, it may be a hundred 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. 1 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 foil aside from mine, augured that all was well. ' You must have been mad to come here ! ' she broke out. 'Of all places under heaven this is no place for you to come. And I was just thinking you Avere 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. O, 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 Avars, not a famous place of educa- tion, but one where a man learns to carry his life in his hand as lightly as a glove, and for his lady or his honour to lay it as lightly down. You appeal to my fears, and you do wrong. I have come to Scotland Avith my eyes quite open to see you and to speak Avith 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 noAv } ' ' You do not know ! ' she cried, with rising agitation. ' This • country, even this garden, is death to you. They all believe it ; I am tiie only one that does not. If they hear you noAv, if they heard a Avhisper — I dread to think of it. O, go, go this instant. It is my prayer.' ' Dear lady, do not refuse me Avhat I have come so far to seek ; and remember that out of all the millions in England there is no other but yourself in Avhom I can dare confide. I have all the Avorld against me ; you are my only ally ; and as I have to speak, you have to listen. All is true that they say of me, and all of it false at the same time. I did kill this man Goguelat — it Avas that you meant } ' She mutely signed to me that it Avas ; she had become deadly pale. ' But I killed him in fair fight. Till then, I had never taken THE COTTAGE AT XIGHT 197 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 ])rison like sun- rise. The man Goguelat insulted her. O, he had insulted luc often, it was his fjivourite 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 anxiously for some reply. The worst was now out, and I knew that she had heard of it before ; but it was impos- sible for me to go on with my narrative without some shadow of encouragement. * You blame me ? ' 'No, not at all. It is a point I cannot speak on — I am only a girl. I am sure you were in the right : I have always said so — to Ronald. 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 with the Major — I did not tell you he had become quite a friend of oui's— Major Chevenix^ I mean — he has taken such a fancy to Ronald ! It was he that brought the news to us of that hateful Clause! being caj)tured, and all that he Avas saying. I was indignant with him. I said — I dare say I said too much — and I must say he was veiy good-natured. He said, " You and I, who are his friends, knoir that Champdivers 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. O, I must say I like that Major Chevenix !' At this I was seized with a great pang of jealousy. I re- membered the first time that he had seen her, the interest 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 ni love and war. For all that, I was now no less anxious to do he speaking myself than I had been before to hear Flora. At east, 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 old with a very different purpose. Now every incident had a Darticular bearing, every by-way branched off to Rome — and that was Flora. When 1 had begun to speak I had kneeled upon the gravel 198 ST. I FES witlioutside 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 sideband this brought our heads upon a level with only the bars 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 heart, 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, Avhich is but a tube of reeds. Not so with a bird of our own feather ! 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 tlie charm. We make love, and thereby ourselves fall the deeper in it. It is with the lieart 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 your- self how unavoidable it is for any man of honour. But if — but in case of the worst I do not choose to em-icli either mv 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 30U know the old couutiy 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 witli my money. If the worst come, if I may never hope to call you wife, let me at least think that you will use my uncle's legacy as my widow.' 'No, not that,' she said. '^ Never that.' ' Wliat then?' I said. 'What else, ray angel? What are words to me ? There is but 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 bars, 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 li|T=. THE COTTAGE AT NIGHT igg My arms Avere wound round her body, -which yielded itself generously to my embrace. As we so remained^ entwined and yet severed, bruising our faces unconsciously 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 which had been hitherto choked up began suddenlv to play apon 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 moment after, but now both standing, Ave had again approached 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, Avith a lift in her breathing that was more eloquent than Avords. 'Anne, my brave Anne ! I would be glad to be your maidservant; I could envy that boy HoAvley. But, no I ' she broke off,' 'I enA'y no one — I need not — I am yours.' ' Mine,' said I, ' for ever ! By this and this, mine ! ' 'All of me/ she repeated. ' Altogether, and for ever ! ' And if the god Avere envious, he must have seen Avitli mor- tification hoAv little he could do to mar the hap])iness of mortals. I stood in a mere Avaterspout ; she herself A\as wet, not from my embrace only, but from the splashing of the storm. The candles had guttered out ; Ave Avere in darkness. 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 Ave became more calm and confidential ; and when that squall, Avhich proved to be the last of the storm, had blown by, fell into a talk of Avays and means. It seemed she kncAV Mr. Robbie, to whom I had been so slenderly accredited by Romaine — Avas even invited to his house for the evening of Monday, and gave me a sketch of the old gentleman's character, Avhich implied a great deal of penetration in herself, and proved of great use to me in the immediate sequel. It seemed he Avas an enthusiastic antiquary, and in particular a fanatic of heraldry. I heard it with delight, for I Avas myself, thanks to M. de Culemberg, fairly grounded in that science, and acquainted Avith the blazons of most families of note in Europe. And I had made up my mind — even as she spoke, it Avas my fixed determination, though I Avas a hundred miles from saying 200 Sr. IVES it — to meet Flora on Monday niglit 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. ' O, 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 yom* treasure,' she cried, ' for you are always there I ' 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 DAY It was indeed high time I should be g-one from Swanston ; but what I was to do in tlie meanwhile was another question, Rowley had received his orders last night: he was to say that I had met a friend, and Mrs. ^SIcRankine was not to expect me before morning. A good enough tale in itself; but the dread- ful pickle I was in made it out of the question. I could not go home till I had found harbourage, 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 spied a light on my left, about a furlong away. It might be a case of sickness ; Avliat 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 auchble, and gradually 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 time, and such sentimental complaisance in the expression, as assured me thev 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 sti-eaming forth and somewhat mitigating the darkness of the morning, I was enabled to decipher the inscription : '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 astonishingly drunk and very decently dressed, and one (who was perhaps 201 202 sr. IVES the drunkest of the lot) carrying a tallow candle^ from which he impartially bedewed the clothes of the whole company. i\s soon as I saw them I could not help smiling to mvself to remember the anxiety with which I had approached. They received me and my hastily-concocted story, that I had been walking from Peebles and had lost my way, with incoherent benignity; jostled me among them into the room Avhere they had been sitting, a plain hedgerow 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 recen- tion, a temporary member of the SLv-Feei-High Club, an athletic society of young men in a good station, who made of tlie 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 — Collingwood, 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 woidd do next. But 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 pandemonium to reign all over the house, and yet lie ranked in the kitchen like Egy])tian 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 to 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 foimd for me, my clothes wei-e 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 ex- cesses. Where they were bestowed was a puzzle to me until (as I was strolling about the g.'u-den ])atch waiting for breakfast) I came on a barn door, and, looking in, saw all the red faces THE SABBATH DAY 203 mixed in the straw like plums in a cake. Quoth the stalwart maid who brought me my porridge and bade me ' eat them while they -were hot/ ' Ay, they were a' on the ran-dan last nicht ! Hoiit ! they 're fine lads, and they '11 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 ; tlie sun shone, spring seemed in the air, it smelt like April or May, and some over-venturous 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 countenance I should be able to do it if I could but improvise a companion. Hard by Merchiston I Avas 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. ' Whv, sir,' he rei^lied, ' 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 ivitticed 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. Robbie ; a knowledge of herakhy Avould 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 the tinctures, and the whole thing being so battered and broken up, who shall venture an opinion } But allow me to be more personal, sir. In these degenerate days I am astonished you should displav so much proficiency.' 'O, I was well grounded in my youth by an old gentleman, a 2 04 ST. IJ^ES friend of my family, and I may say my guardian,' said I ; 'but I have forgotten it since. God forbid I should dehide 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 graciouslv. In shorty we fell together on our onward way, and maintained very amicable discourse along what remained of the country road, past the suburbs, and on into the streets of tlie New Town^ which was as deserted and silent as a city of the dead. The sliops 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 Sawhath ; and I confess the spectacle wanted not grandeur, however much it may have lacked cheer- fulness. There ai-e 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 Avhether 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 as good a preacher as we have to show you.' 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 than a second look, would go on from the second to the third, and from that to a final recogni- tion, if I were set before them, immobilised in a pew, during the whole time of service. An unlucky 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 Avhere one has least to think of, it was ten to one they would end by remembering me before the benediction. 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 congregation of mena- cing faces. At first the possibility of danger kept me awake ; but by the time I had assured myself there was none to be apprehended, and the service was not in the least likely to be THE SABBATH DAY 205 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 acquaintances of the con- gregation ; and I was rejoiced to hear him addressed by the expected name of Robbie. So soon as we were clear of the crowd — 'Mr. Robbie?' 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 ex- claimed. ' I have here a card in my pocket intended 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 introduction.' 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. Romaine's health. ' Well, this is certainly a whimsical incident,' he continued. 'And since we are thus met already — and so much to my ad- vantage ! — the simplest thing will be to prosecute the acquaint- ance 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. Ducie !' — which was the name I then used and had already incidentally mentioned, in the vain hope of provoking 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 convej'/ said he. ' We have the name of hospitable people up here, and I would like you to try mine.' ' Mr. Robbie, 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 per- nicious 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 : if it is so particular as all that, it will doubtless admit of no delay.' 2o6 ST. I FES '1 must confess, sir, it presses,' I acknowleda^ed. ' Then, let us Scay to-morrow at half-past eight in the morn- ing,' 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' Square. Almost at the house door whom should I overtake but my landlady in a dress of gorgeous seveiity, and dragging a prize in her wake : no less than Uowley, 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. McHankiue inquired where I liad been. I told her boastfully, giving her the name of the church and the divine, and ignorantly suj)posing I should have gained caste. But she soon opened my eyes. In tlie roots of the Scottish character there are knots and contortions that not only no stranger can understand, but no stranger can follow ; he walks among explosives ; and his best course is to throw himself upon their merc}^ — '^ Just as I am, without one plea,' a citation from one of the lady's fiivourite 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. ' You must remember I am a perfect stranger in your city,' said I. ' If I have done wrong, it was in mere ignorance, my dear lady ; and this afternoon, if you will be so good as to take me, I shall accompany ?/o?<.' But she was not to be pacified at the moment, and departed to her own quarters murmuring. ' Well, Rowley,' said I ; ' and have you been to church } ' ' If you please, sir,' he said. 'Well, you have not been any less imlucky than I have,' : returned. 'And how did you get on with the Scottish form? ' W^ell, sir, it was pretty 'ard, the form was, and reeth • narrow,' he replied. ' I don't know w'y it is, but it seems to n like as if things were a good bit changed since William Wallace. : That was a main queer chuich she took me to, Mr. Anne ! i THE SABBATH DAY 207 don't know as I could have sat it out, if slie 'adn't 'a' give nie peppermints. She ain't a bad one at bottom, 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 flew 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. Whate\ er she says, touch your forelock and say, "If you please!" or "I beg pardon, ma'am." And let me tell you one thing : I am sorry, but you have to go to church with her again this afternoon. That's duty, my boy ! ' As I had foreseen, the bells had scarce begun before Mrs. McRankine presented herself to be our escort, upon -which I sprang up with readiness and offered her my arm. Rowley followed behind. I was beginning to grow accustomed to the risks of my stay in Edinburgh, and it even amused me to con- front 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, apparently, 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 myself 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, Avliispered 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 jjardon me if I also remembered that I was a favourable- looking young man. W hen we grow elderly, how the room brightens, and begins to look as it ought to look, on the entrance of youth, grace, healtli, and comeliness ! You do not want them for yourself, perhaps not even for your son, but you 2o8 ST. I FES 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 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 bx-ightened by the presence of a pair of good-looking young fellows of the other sex, w ho w-ere always pleased and deferen- tial 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 denoaminations. There's some in tlie 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. Ducie, think shame to yoursel' ! ' she cried. ' Why, my dear madam ! I only ' I began. 'You shouldnae jest in sairious maitters,' she interrupted. 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 expansive 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 Rowley, Mrs. McRankine, and the Viscount Anne ! But I am of the Apostle's way, with a difference : all things to all women ! When I cannot please a woman, hang me in my cravat ! CHAPTER XXVIII EVENTS OF MONDAY : THE LAWVEr's PARTY By half-past eight o'clock on the next mornings I was nnging the bell of the lawyer's office in Castle Street, where I found him ensconced at a business table, in a room surrounded by several tiers of green tin cases. He greeted me like an old friend. ' Come away, sir, come away ! ' 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 rovers and their cattle, to having used a false name, to having luurdered or half-murdered a fellow-creature in a scuffle on the 3 \oors, 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 this I gave him fii-st of all, to be done with the worst of it ; and all this he took with gravity, ■mt without the least appearance of surprise. ' Now, sir/ I continued, ' I expect to have to pay for my un- ippy frolic, but I would like very well if it could be managed - ithout my personal appearance or even the mention of my real •';ime. I had so much wisdom as to sail under false colours in Ids foolish jaunt of mine ; my family would be extremely con- c :rned if they had wind of it ; but at the same time, if the case ot' this Faa has terminated fatally, and there are proceedings aj^ainst Todd and Candlish, I am not going to stand by and see tliem vexed, far less punished ; and I authorise you to give me up for trial if you think that best — or, if you think it unneces- :-;u-y, in the meanwhile to make preparations for their defence. hope, sir, that I am as little anxious to be Quixotic, as I am etermined to be just.' ' ^^ery fairly spoken,' said Mr. Robbie. ' It is not much in ,;y line, as doubtless your friend, Mr. Romaine, will have told 2 10 ST. I FES you. I ravely 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 dare say I may be able to accomplish more than perhaps another. I Mill 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, you 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 contrarv to your habits, some substantial guarantee 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 expenses of the case. I have my eye besides on Todd and Candlish. They are thoroughly deserving fellows ; they have been subjected through me to a considerable term of imprisonment ; and I suggest, sir, that you should not 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. Ducie,' 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 MoTi/n/ and the last Register to amuse yourself with in the interval.' I believe Mr. Robbie was at least three hours gone. I saw him descend from a cab at the door, and almost immediately after I was shown again into his stud}^, where the solemnity of his manner led me to augur the Avorst. For some time he had the inhumanity to read me a lecture as to the incredible silliness, 'not to say immorality,' of my behaviour. 'I have the satisfaction in telling you my o})inion, 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 Candlish, would have been leeberated long ago, if it had not been for their extraordinary loyalty to yourself, Mr. Ducie — or Mr. St. Ivey, as I believe I should now call you. Never a word would either of the two old fools volunteer that THE LAWYERS PARTY 211 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 Avith their own former declarations, as well as with each other, that the Fiscal was quite nonplussed, and imaigined there was something behind it. You may believe I soon laughed him out of that ! And I had the satisftxction of seeing your two friends set free, and very glad to be on the causeway again.' 'Oh, sir,' I cried, 'you should have brought them here.' ' No instructions, Mr. Ducie ! ' said he. ' How did I know vou wished to renew an acquaintance Avhich 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. Ivey ! When I gave them fifty pounds apiece — which was rather more than enough, Mr. Ducie, whatever you may think — the man Todd, Avho 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. Ivey said of yourself! ' So it Avas 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 felloAVS in their way, but no proper associates for the like of yourself ; and o you finally agree to be done with all eccentricity — take up ■ ith no more drovers, or rovers, or tinkers, but enjoy the aitural pleesures for which your age, your wealth, your intelli- v^ence, and (if I may be allowed to say it) your appearance so v'ompletely 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 drovers or rovers, if you love me ! Talking of which puts me in mind that you may be short of partners at the Assembly — oh, 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- 212 ST. IVES nepliews, and his wards, and generally the Avhole 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 dance 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 '11 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 Avorthy 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. Rowley 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 appearance ; and while, of course, she deplored the vanity that led to it, she could not wholly prevent herself from admiring the result. ' Ay, Mr. Ducie, this is a poor employment for a wayfaring Christian man !' she said. ' VVi' 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 '11 have to confess that it sets you week 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 courtin', and that 's lang by-gane — I mind I had a green gown, passementit, that was thocht to become me to admiration. I was nae just exactly what ye would ca' bonny ; but I was pale, penetratiii', and interestin'.' 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 Avere crowded, as that there Avas very little attempted to entertain them. In one apartment there Avere tables set out, Avhere the elders Avere solemnly engaged upon Avhist ; 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 Avhich lay dispersed upon the tables, and of Avhich the young beaux displayed the illustrations to the ladies. Mr. Robbie himself Avas customarily in the card-room ; only noAv and again, Avhen he cut out, he made an incursion THE LAWYER'S PARTY 213 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. 'Now, Miss Flora/ he had said, 'come early, fc I have a Phoenix to show you — one Mr. Ducie, a new client or mine that, I vow, I have fallen in love with ' ; and he was so good as to add a word or two on my appeai-ance, from which Flora conceived a suspicion 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 up to meet me in the most natural manner in the world, and, obviously, with a prepared form of words. ' How do you do, Mr. Ducie :' she said. 'It is quite an age since I have seen you ! ' ' I have much to tell you. Miss Gilchrist,' I replied. ' May I sit down ? ' 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 vou mad ? ' ' Madiy in love,' I replied ; 'but in no other sense.' ' I have no patience ! You cannot understand Avhat I am suffering ! ' she said. ' What are you to say to Ronald, to Major Chevenix, to my aunt ? ' ' Your aunt ? ' I cried, with a start. ' Peccaii ! is she here ? ' ' She is in the card-room at whist,' said Flora. ' Where she will probably stay all the evening ? ' I suggested. ' 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 certain young lady to my heart's content — if it can ever be contented I — and to tell her some good news.' 'But there are still Ronald and the Major!' she persisted. '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 dear ; and Mr. Ducie has come to prevent it! But pray dismiss these fears ! I mind no one but your aunt.' ' Why my aunt .^ ' 214 - ST. I FES ' Because your aunt is a lady, my clear, and a very clever lad}', and, like all clever ladies, a very rash lady,' said I. ' You 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 indifference to my danger and to the feelings of our good host ! ' 'Well,' she said, 'and what of Ronald, then? Do you think he is above making a scandal ? You must know him very 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 ! ' 'Oh, 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 you were quite safe and I was in, oh, such danger ! ' She had no sooner said it than I was convicted of being a dullard. ' God forgive me, dear ! ' I made haste to reply, ' I never saw before that there were two sides to 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. She 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 cai-ried 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. TJiere could be no doubt, from Mr. Ronald's attitude, that he -worshipped the ver_y chair she sat on. But I v/as quite ruthless. I laid my hand on his shoulder, as he was stooping 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. THE LAWYER'S PARTY 215 'Yes!' I continued, 'it is even myself! Pardon me for interrupting so agreeable a tcte-a-tcfc, but you know, my good fellow, we owe a first duty to Mr. Robbie. It would never do to risk making a scene in the man's drawing-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 segar. 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 Square, and had again mingled with the crowd. ALis ! I was not fated to get back to Flora so easily ! Mr. Robbie was in the path : he was insatiably loquacious ; and as he continued to palaver I watched the insipid youths gather again about my idol, and cui'sed my fate and my host. He remembered suddenly that I was to attend the Assembly Ball on Thursday, and had only attended to-night by way of a preparative. This put it into his head to present me to another young lady ; but I managed this interview with so much art that, Avliile I was scrupulously polite and even cordial to the fair one, I contrived to keep Robbie 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. ' Oh ! there 's a man I want to know,' said I, taking the bull by the horns. 'Won't you introduce me to Major Chevenix ?' 'At a word, my dear fellow,' said Robbie; and 'Major!' he cried, 'come here and let me present to you my friend Mr. Ducie, Avho desires the honour of yovu* acquaintance.' The Major flushed visibly, but otherwise preserved his com- posure. 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 regulai-ising our acquaint- ance.' ' You are very good, Mr. Ducie,' he returned. ' Perhaps j^ou could aid my memory a little .'' Where was it that I had the pleasure .'' ' ' Oh, that would be telling tales out of school/ said I, with a laugh, 'and before my lawyer, too !' ~ ' I '11 wager,' broke in Mr. Robbie, ' that, when you knew my 2i6 ST. IVES client, Chevenix — the past of our friend Mr. Ducie is an obscure chapter full of horrid secrets — I '11 wager, row, you knew him as St. Ivey/ says he, nudging me violently. ' I think not, sir,' said the Major, with pinched lips. ' Well, I wish he may prove all right !' continued the lawyer, with certainly the 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 de- parted. The Major, as soon as we were alone, turned upon me his impassive countenance. ' Well,' he said, ' you have courage.' ' It is midoubted 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 honour. 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, changing the subject. ' With whom, I am led to understand, we are on a footing 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 suppose, was he. We looked each other up and down. 'The situation 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 kindness to the prisoner Champdivers.' ' Meaning that the lady's affections are more advantageously disposed of.'' he asked, with a sneer. 'Thank you, I am sure. And, since you 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 THE LAWYERS PARTY 217 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 you 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 myself, as I went, a sharp lesson on the command of temper. 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 neigh- bourhood — 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 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 shone by contrast; tlie 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 tlie 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 the 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 ! ' 2i8 ST. I FES ' Miss Gilchrist has the tender female heart/ said Chevenix. ' Do not be too sure of that ! ' she cried. ' I would love to be allowed to fight mj-self!' ' On Avhich side ? ' I asked. ' Can you ask ? ' she exclaimed. * I am a Scottish girl ! ' '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 ? ' * Oh, come,' said I, 'let us be more concrete. Lay before the lady a complete case : describe your man, then I '11 describe 7nine, and Miss Flora shall decide.' 'I think I see your meaning,' said he, 'and I'll try. You think that pity — and the kindred sentiments — -have the greatest power upon the heart. I think more nobly of wrmen. To my view, the man they love will first of all command their respect; he will be steadfast — proud, if you please; dry, pos- sibly — 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 ambitious, 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 admired 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 t — pity for his weakness, pity for his love, which is his life. You 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 stead- fast of your hei'oes may prove human, after all. We appeal to the queen for judgment,' I added, turning and boAving before Flora. '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 Chevenix grew pale. 'You make of life a very dreadful kind of lottery, ma'am,' said he. ' But I will not despair. Honest and unornamental is still my choice.' THE LAWYER'S PARTY 219 And I must say lie 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. * Madame, it Mas 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 move- ment 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 and ray 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 of Castle Street, and the lighted Avindows shone down on me, and were crossed by ironical shadows of those who had remained behind. CHAPTER XXIX EVENTS OF TUESDAY : THE TOILS CLOSING This day began with a surprise. I found a letter on my break- fast-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 cai-d for the Assembly Ball on Thursday evening. Shortly after^ as I was composing my mind with a segar 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 segar, drew in a chair to the side of the fire, and installed him there — I was going to say, at his ease, but no expression could be farther from the truth. He was plainly on pins and needles, did not know whether to take or to refuse the segar, and, after he had taken it, did not know whether to light or to return it. I saw he had something to say ; I did not think it was his own something ; and I was i-eady to offer a large bet it was really something of Major Chevenix's. ' Well, and so here you are ! ' I observed, with pointless cor- diality, for I was bound I should do nothing to help him out. If he were, indeed, here running errands for my rival, he miglit have a fair field, but certainly no favour. ' The fact is,' he began, ' I Avould rather see you alone.' ' Why, certainly,' I replied. ' Rowley, you can step into the bedroom. My dear fellow,' I continued, ' this sounds serious. Nothing wrong, I trust.' 'W^ell, 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 hun- 220 THE TOILS CLOSING 221 dred pounds, or any such tritiing sum as that, please mention it. It's here, quite at your service.' * I am sure it is most kind of you/ said Ronald, 'and the truth is, though I can't think how you guessed it, that I really o?« a little behind board. But I haven't come to talk about that.' ' No, I dare saj' ! ' cried I. * Not worth talking about ! ' But remember, Ronald, jou and I are on different sides of the busi- ness. Remember 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 menacingly 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 j-ou do want it.' ' Oh, please let me alone ! ' cried Ronald : ' 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 sister, 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 anything ; and 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 ; and 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 gentlemen, it shouldn't be necessary to refer to it again.' 'It's compromising; it doesn't lead to anything; not the kind of man,' I repeated thoughtfully. 'Yes, I believe I under- stand, and shall make haste to put myself en regie.' I stood up, and laid my segar down. ' Mr. Gilchrist,' said I, with a bow, ' in answer to your very natural observations, I beg to offer myself as a suitor for your sister's hand. I am a man of title, of which we think lightly in France, but of ancient lineage, which is everywhere prized. I can display thirty-two quarter- ings without a blot. My expectations are certainly above the average : I believe my uncle's income averages about thirty thousand pounds, though I admit I was not careful to inform 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 pitying 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 ca?i'l prove 2 22 ST. I FES 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.' ' Ohj come ! ' cried I, springing up and hurrying to the table. 'You must excuse me!' I wrote Romaine's address. '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.' He was brought up with a round turn at that. ' I beg your pardon, St. Ives,' said he. ' Believe me, I had no wish to be offensive. 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 marriage is — is merely impos- sible, my dear fellow. It's nonsense! 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 Avas 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 — Goguelat,' 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 1, '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 marriage 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 terminated 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 sai/ it was an affair of honour. Well, I can't, of course, tell you that — I can't I mean, you must see that that's just the point ! Was it .'' I don't know.' 'I have the honour to inform you,' said I. * Well, other people say the reverse, you see ! ' THE TOILS CLOSING 223 'They lie, Ronald, 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 Clievenix ! ' said I. ' I don't care ! ' he cried, rising from his chair and beginning 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 aii 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 you take your answer, man } ' ' You must remember, Ronald, that we are playing with edged tools,' said I. ' An offer of mara-iage is a delicate sub- ject 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 answer when I have done, — and third, that I had dishonourably killed — or was said to have done so — the man Goguelat. 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.' He had been anxious enough to interrupt me in the begin- ning ; 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 any- 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 influenced my mind; and that, in short, the thing w'as impossible. One thing you may be quite sure of: / shall do nothing against you. Will vou shake hands before I go away ?' he bhuted out. ' Yes,' said I, ' I agree with you — the interview has been irritating. Let bygones be bygones. Good-bye, Ronald.' 'Good-bye, St. Ives ! ' he returned. ' I 'm 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 direc- tion of the square. Hence I was able to observe Ronald's 2 24 f^T. I FES 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 smiling ; 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 temporary absence in France, all irons would be put into the fire, and the world turned upside down, to make Flora disown 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 and see her now, but I promised myself 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 approaching random fishermen with mv hat in the one hand and a knife in the other, appeared s desperate, that I saw nothing for it but to retrace my steps over the northern counties, and knock a second time at the doors of Birchell Fenn. To do this, money would be necessary ; and after leaving my paper in the hands of Flora I had still . balance of about fifteen hundred pounds. Or rather I may sa} I had them and I had them not ; for after my luncheon with Mr. Robbie 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 ai'rangement, I despatched my little man, cockade and all, to lift the fifteen hundred. He was not long gone, and returned with a flushed face, and the deposit receipt still in his hand. ' No go, Mr. Anne,' says he. ' How 's that .'' ' I inquired, ' Well, sir, I found the place all right, and no mistake,' said he. ' But I tell you what 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.' * You are sure you are not mistaken .^ ' I asked. THE TOILS CLOSING 225 ' Certain sure,' he replied. ' Not Mr. Lavender, I don't mean, sir; I mean the other party. " Wot 's he doing here.^' says I. " It don't look right." ' 'Not 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 Rowley 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 Rowley kept his account. ' Rowley,' said I, ' he didn't see you, did he ? ' ' Never a fear,' quoth Rowley. ' W'y Mr. Anne, sir, if he 'ad, you wouldn't have seen me any more ! I ain't a hass, sir ! ' ' Well, my boy, you can put that receipt in your pocket. You '11 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 yourself.' 'Begging your pardon, Mr. Anne, sir, but wot for!' said Rowley. ' To set up a public-house upon,' said I. ' If you '11 excuse me, sir, I ain't got any call to set up a public- house, 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 Rowley,' 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 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 Rowley. 'You don't go anywheres without me, I can tell you that, Mr. Anne, sir ! ' 'Yes, my boy,' said I, 'we are going to part 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 yoii. How they could have found out about the account so eai'ly is more than I can fathom ; some strange coincidence must have played me false ! But there the fact is ; and Rowley, I '11 not only have to say farewell to you presently, I '11 have to ask you to stay indoors until I can say it. Remember, my boy, it 's only so that you can serve me now.' 'W'y, sii", you say the word, and of course I'll do it!' he 226 ST. I FES cried. '"Nothiiik 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 Mercury, with its ill news of the campaign of France and belated documents about the retreat from Russia ; and, as I sat there by the fire, I was sometimes all awake with anger and mortification at what 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. 'If you please, Mr. Anne, sir,' answered the obsequious, lowering his pipe. ' 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 Bov/ Street man have come together, I would swear. And now here is the whole field, quarry, hounds and hunters, all together 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 '11 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. McRankine'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. ' Oh, I tell you, I knoAv a lot of them dodges,' he observed proudly. ' Well, they come in very handy,' said I. THE TOILS CLOSING 227 'I'd better go at once and show it to the old ga], 'adn't 1 ?' he asked. I told him, by all means ; and he was gone upon the instant, 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 stmck on the next paragraph : — ' In connection with the recent horrid murder in the Castle, we are desired to make public the following intelhgence. The soldier, Chanipdivers, 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 fashionable 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 apprehension.' In a moment I was in the next 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 partake 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 reddened, that I should so continually hear the voice of her private supplications sound- ing through the house ? I was much deceived, or she had read the insidious paragraph and recognised the comminated pearl- grey suit. I remember now a certain air with which she had laid the paper on my table, and a certain sniff, between sympathy and defiance, with which she had announced it : 'There's your Mercun/ 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 spiritual nature; it might go off at 228 ST. IVES 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 annoy; the other was a practical confession of guilt. Altogether, it was a good hour for me when the dusk began to fall in earnest on tlie 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 garden wall, I was struck with surprise to hear a dog. Dogs I had heard before, but only from the hamlet on the hillside above. Now, this dog was in the gai'den 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, the door of the cottage opened, and Ronald 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 pacified the dog, who took instead to low, uneasy growling intermingled with occasional yelps. ' Good thing I brought Towzer ! ' said Chevenix. ' Damn him, I wonder where he is ! ' 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 '11 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 ! Militaiy 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 minute!' 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. ' Beaucoup de pJaisir !' I replied, in the THE TOILS CLOSING 229 same tones. ' II fait un pcu J'roid pour veillcr ; gardcz-vous des ciigelures ! ' 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 slipped 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. \^'ith a bound the beast landed on the cope-stone of the wall; and, almost in the same instant, my missile caught him fair in the face. He gave a stifled cry, went tumbling back where he had come from, and I could hear the twelve-pounder accompany him in his fall. Chevenix, at the same moment, broke out in a roaring voice : 'The hell-hound ! If he's killed my dog ! ' and I judged, ujjon all grounds, it was as well to be off CHAPTER XXX EVENTS OF WEDNESDAY ; THE UNIVERSITY OF CRAMOND I AWOKE to much diffidence, even to a feeling that might be called the beginnings of panic, and lay for hours in my bed considering the situation. Seek where 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 ostentation 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 in 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 receipt. Second, I might apply again to Robbie. Or, third, I might dare every- thing, go to the Assembly Ball, and speak with Flora under the eyes of all Edinburgh. This last alternative, involving as it did the m®st 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 the others. It was the likeliest thing in the world that Robbie 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 elementary that he was certain to have taken it. If he had not, of course I was all right : Robbie would manage to communicate 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 Rowley and questioned him tightly as to the appearance of the Bow Street officer. 230 THE UNIVERSITY OF CRAMOND 231 ' 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. ' VV ell, 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, t 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 short. No, not piticular short, sir.' ' Then, I suppose, he must be about the middle height ? ' Well, you 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 of anxious candour. , ' Good heaven, man, don't repeat my words like a parrot ! 1 cried. ' Tell me what the man was like : it is of the first im- portance that I should be able to recognise him.' ' I 'm trying to, Mr. Anne. But clean-shaved ? I don't 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. -at ' I don't think you need go for to get cross about it, Mr. Anne ! ' said he. ' I 'm teUin' you every blessed thing I see ! Red-faced ? Well, no, not as you would remark 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.' ' Oh, 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 degree 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 232 Sr. IVES name on' ; that of his eyes he thought to have been bUie — nay, it was the one point on which he attained to a kind of tearful certainty. ' I '11 take my davy on it,' he asseverated. They ])roved 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- breeches and white stockings ; his coat was ' some kind of a lightish colour — or betwixt that and dark '; and he wore a 'mole- skin 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 hiin, sir,' he cried, ' the very moral of him ! Well, this one is better dressed, and p'raps a trifler 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 justified. 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 hei- head, as she waited on table. In short, she seemed in so pre- carious 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 Avas 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 waistcoat, and Avas 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 slgnalemcnt : he had declared emphatically (if you remember), and had stuck to it besides, that the companion of the great Lavender was no beauty. Thence I made my way to Mr. Robbie's, where I rang 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 '11 be for you, then .^ ' she added, and handed me a letter from the hall table. It ran : 'Dear Mr. Ducie, ' My single advice to you is to leave qriam primnm for the South. Yours, T. 1?obiue.' THE UNIVERSITY OF CRAMOND 233 That was short and sweet. It emphatically extinguished hope in one direction. No more was to be gotten of Robbie ; 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 pavement. Spying the door of a common stair nearly opposite 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 im- mediately 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, riug the bell of a suite of apartments, inquire for Mr. Vavasour, learn (with no gx-eat 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. Robbie had failed me. The bank was watched ; it would never do to risk Rowley 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 Avagers with myself — and gained them ; I went down on the esplanade 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 begun. I cocked my hat, set my hand on my hip, and swaggered on the pavement, con- fronting detection. And I found I could do all this with a 2 34 ST. IVES sense of exhilaration that was not impleasing, and with a certani crdnerie of manner that raised me in my own esteem. And yet there was one thing I could not bring ray mind to face up to, or my limbs to execute ; and that was to cross the valley into the Old To^vn. It seemed to me I must be arrested immedi- ately if I had done so ; I must go straight into the twilight of a prison cell, and pass straight thence to the gross and final embraces of the nightcap and the halter. And yet it was from no reasoned fear of the consequences that I could not go, I was unable. 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 unflagging effrontery! The strain had been too long continued, 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 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 ray proofs ; few raen raore. And yet I (come of the best blood in France anJ 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 ray first available breath I begged his pardon. I wa^ 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 apologies ! But you really must be run down ; you should consult a medico My dear sir, a hair of the dog that bit you is clearly indicatec . A touch of Blue Ruin, now } Or, come : it's early, but is ma.i the slave of hours? what do you say to a chop and a bottle i Durabreck's Hotel .^ ' THE UNIVERSITY OF CRAMOXD 235 I refused all false comfort ; but when he went on to remind me that this was the day when the University of Cramond met; and to propose a five-mile walk ii:to 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. Remembering poor Rowley^ feigning a cold in our lodgings and immediately under the guns of the formidable and now doubtful Bethiah, 1 asked if I might bring my servant. ' Poor devil ! it is dull for him,' I explained. '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 unmanly 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 represented in force : eleven persons, in- cluding ourselves, Byfield the aeronaut, and the tall lad, Forbes, whom I had met on the Sunday morning, bedewed Avith tallow, at the ' Hunters' Rest.' I was introduced ; and we set off by way of Newhaven and the sea beach ; at first through 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 miniature scenery, but charming of its kind. The air of this good February afternoon was bracing, but not cold. All the Avay 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 disposed to feel interest in the man. He was dark and bilious and very silent; frigid in his manners, but burning internally with a great fire of excitement ; and he was so good as to bestow a 236 ST. IVES good deal of his company and conversation (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 macaronic Latin, which I could by no means follow, only I could hear it rhymed, and I guessed it to be more witty than reverent. After which the Scnatiis Acadcmicus 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 con- tinual 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 mvself entertaining them with a son Nhm!' I lifted the breakfast cover, and saw before me a damnatory red herring. ' Rowley was very foolish last night,' I remarked, wuth a discriminating stress on the name. ' "The ass knoweth his master's crib.'" She pointed to the herring. ' It 's all ye '11 get, Mr. — Ducie, if that 's your name.' ' Madam,' — I held out the fish at the end of my fork — ' you drag 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 '11 no say — Man, man ! have a care ! And me beat 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 Rowley'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 of 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 'ra wonderin' will I have seen her } ' For the rest, she heard me out in silencCj and rose and walked to the THE ASSEMBLY BALL 241 door without a word. There she turned. 'It'saverra queer tale. If McRankine had told nie the like, I 'd have gien him the lie to his face.' Two minutes later I heard the vials of her speech unsealed above stairs, with detonations that shook the house. I had touched off my rocket, and the stick descended — on the prostrate Rowley. And now I must face the inert hours. I sat down, and read my way through the Mercunj. '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 set down the paper, and turned to my landlady's library. It consisted of Derham's P/ii/sico- and Astro-Theology, The Scripture Doctrine of Original Sin, by one Taylor, D.D., The Ready Reckoner or Tradesvmn s Sure Guide, and The Path to the Pit delineated, with Twelve Engravings on Copper-plate. For distraction I 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 reciudetis immeritis mori Caelum — h'm, h'm — raro — raro antecedent em scelestum deseruit pede Poena claudo. 1 paused by the window. In this there was no indiscretion ; i'or a cold drizzle washed the panes, and the warmth of the apartment dimmed their inner surface. ' Pede Poena claudo,' my finger traced the words on the damp 'ass. A sudden clamour of the street-door bell sent me skipping I. ack to the fire-place with my heart in my mouth. Intermin- .ble minutes followed, and at length Mrs. McRankine entered ith my ball suit from the tailor's. I carried it into the next )om, and disposed it on the bed — olive-green coat with gilt uttons and facings of watered silk, olive-green pantaloons, "hite waistcoat sprigged with blue and green forget-me-nots. ;'he survey carried me on to midday and the midday meal. The ministry of meal-time is twice blest : for prisoners and len without appetite it punctuates and makes time of eternity. dawdled over my chop and pint of brown stout until Mrs. t fcRankine, after twice entering to clear away, Avith the face of Cumaean sibyl, so far relaxed the tension of unnatural calm o to inquire if I meant to be all night about it. Q 2 42 ST. I FES The afternoon wore into dusk ; and with dusk she reap}3eared with a tea-tray. At six I retired to dress. Behold me now issuing from my chamber, conscious of a well-fittinff coat and a shapely pair of legs : the dignified simplicity X)f my tourniire (simplicity 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, Avho 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 am meaning. I kenned McRankine.' ' Shall we talk of business, madam ? In the first place, the quittance for our board and lodging.' ' 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 with 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 '11 come back, Mr. Anne } ' cried the lad. ' I'm afraid it's a toss-up, my boy. Discipline, remember !' — for he Avas 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 present yourself in private before Mr. T. Robbie of Castle Street, or Miss Flora Gilchrist of SAvanston Cottage. From either or both of these you will take your instructions. Here are the addresses.' 'If that's a' your need for the lad,' said Mrs. McRankine, 'he'll be eating his head off: no to say drinking.' Rowley winced. 'I'll tak' him on mysel'.' ' My dear woman ' ' He '11 be a brand frae the burnin' : and he '11 do to clean the knives.' She would hear no denial. I committed the lad to her in THE ASSEMBLY BALL 243 this double capacity ; and equipped with a pair of goloshes froin 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 pave- ment. Already the guests were arriving. I whipped in briskly, presented my card, and passed up a staircase decorated with flags, evergreens, and national emblems. A venerable flunkey waited for me at the summit. ' 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 tucket soii/uls. Enter ike Vicomte, disguised.' To tell the truth, this entiy 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. Con- sequently 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 believe, to our northern capital, and I hope a dancer 1: ' 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 recognised Master Ronald's flame, the girl in pink of Mr. Robbie's party, to-night gowned in apple-green. ' Miss McBean — Miss Camilla McBean } With pleasure. Great discrimination you show, sir. Be so good as to follow jne.' I Avas led forward and presented. Miss McBean responded TO my bow with great play of shoulders ; and in turn presented me to her mother, a moustachioed lady in stiff" black silk, sur- mounted with a black cap and coquelicot trimmings. 244 ST. IVES 'Any friend of Mr. Robbie's, I'm sure/ murmured Mrs. McBean, affably inclining. ' Look, Camilla dear — Sir William and Lady Frazer — in laylock sarsnet — how -well that diamond bandeau becomes her ! They are early to-night. As I was saying, Mr. ' 'Ducie.' ' To be sure. As I was saying, any friend of Mr. Robbie — 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 Edin- burgh. Camilla dear, that Miss Scrymgeour has edged her China crape with the very ribbon trimmings — black satin with pearl edge — Ave saw in that new shop in Princes Street yester- day : sixpenny width at the bottom, and three-three-farthiugs round the bodice. Perhaps you can tell me, Mr. Ducie, if it's really true that ribbon trimmings are the height 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 them- selves 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 nerves were on the strain to echo. Surely Flora would come : surely none of her guardians^ natural or officious, Avould 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 Gilchrist! 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 moor- ings, and was heading down on my enemies' line of battle. Their foces 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 Major 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 eye-glass. THE ASSEMBLY BALL 245 'Madam/ said I, with a glance at Chevenix, 'you may call it a cutting-out expedition.' ' Miss Gilchrist/ he began, ''yoii 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 reas- suring. But she turned to the lawyer. ' ^iy dear lady,' he answered her look, 'this very imprudent 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 adviser' — 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 protracting this scene in the face of a crowded assembl}-. Are you 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 but non- plussed. ' Four from six leaves two,' said I ; and promptly engaged 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 Dunibreck'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 ran- sacking the city hot-foot for my lodgings.' 'And you linger and shoAv yourself here I — here of all places I Oh, it is mad I Anne, why will you be so rash t ' '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 kijid 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 — Avhen I 2 46 ST. IVES dressed for the ball — the first time they have left my heart ! Oh, false ! — false of trust that I am ! ' ' Whvj dearest, that is not fatal, I hope. You reach home to-night — you slip them into some hiding — say in the corner of the Avail below the garden ' ' Stop : let me think.' She picked up her fan again^ and behind it her eyes darkened while I watched, and she con- sidered, 'You know the hill we pass before we reach Swanston ? — it has no name, I believe, but Ronald and I have called it the Fish-back since we were children : it has a clump of firs above it, like a fin. There is a quarry 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 tlie risk .'' ' ' Please, Anne — oh, please let me do something ! If you knew wliat it is to sit at home while your — your dearest ' ' The Viscount of Saint- Yves ! ' The name, shouted from the doorway, rang down her falter- ing 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 be- wilderment. 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.' 'I gathered,' said I, 'that you were forestalling the com- pliment. Our meeting, then, is unexpected ?' 'Wh3%no; for, to tell you the truth, the seci-etary of the Ball Committee, this afternoon, allowed me a glance over his list of invites. I am apt to be nice about my company, 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, THE ASSEMBLY BALL 247 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, ?}W)i brave.' ' I '11 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-d-vis. 'You have blood in you, my cousin.' He bowed, and went in search of the Master of Ceremonies. 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 or two, and you interpret worth. My dear girl — that fellow ! ' 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 posted my friend of the moleskin w^aistcoat, 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 tx'ap. 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 Frazer of the lilac sarsnet and diamond bandeau. For some unaccountable reason, in this infernal impasse my spirits began to rise, to soar. I declare it : I led Flora for- ward to the set with a gaiety which may have been unnatural, 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 rautingly, sae wantonly Sae dauntingly gaed he ; He played a spi-ing and danced it round Beneath ' 248 ST. IVES never mind what. The band played the spring and I danced it roundj while my cousin eyed me with extorted approval. The quadrille includes an absurd figure — called, I think, La Paslourelle. You take a lady with either hand, and jig them to and fro, for all the world like an Englishman of legend parading a couple of wives for sale at Smithfield ; Avhile the other male^ like a timid purchaser, backs and advances with his arms dangling. ' I 've lived a life of sturt and strife, I die by treacherie ' I challenged Alain with an open smile as he backed before us ; and no sooner was the dance ovei', than I saw him desert Lady Frazer on a hurried excuse, and seek the door to satisfy him- self 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 i-eturned in less than a minute. Yes, there was a constable below. ' It's just a young gentleman to be put to the Law for debt,' I explained, recalling the barbarous and, to me, still unmeaning phrase. ' I 'm no speiring,' replied the Avaiter. I made my way back, and was not a little disgusted to find nw 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-i*oom, quick ! while I fetch Miss 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. Robbie was her partner ; and I saw (and 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 ' THE ASSEMBLY BALL 249 ' I Ve 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. Robbie. Well, Mosha the \'iscount, we '11 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, Avhile the Major fussed about her with a cup of tea. ' I have sent Ronald for the carriage,' he announced. ' H'ni,' 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 reconnoitred. The crowd was thick in the ball-room ; a dance in full swing ; mj' cousin gambolling vivaciously, and, for the moment, with his back to us. Flora leaned on Ronald, and, skirting the wall, our party gained the great door and the vestibule, where Chevenix stood with an armful of cloaks. ' You and Ronald can return and enjoy yourselves,' said the old lady, 'as soon as ye've packed us off. Ye '11 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 courtesy. ' Good-night, sir, and I am obliged for j'our services. Or stay — you may see us to the carriage, if ye '11 be so kind. Major, hand Mr. What- d 'ye-call some of your wraps.' My eyes did not dare to bless her. We moved down the stairs — Miss Gilchrist 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 pattern of Miss Gilchrist's Paisley shawl, I saw his finger touch my arm ! Yes, and I felt 2 50 ST. I FES 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 overcoat. They argued, no doubt, that I was unaware ; was 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 ! ' 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 Robie 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-to the door by its strap. Dead silence from Miss Gilchrist ! I had to apologise, of course. The Avheels rumbled and jolted over the cobbles of Edinburgh ; the windows rattled and shook under the uncertain gusts of the city. \Mien Ave 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 still a mortuary silence within the coach ! It was disconcerting. Robie for a certainty was driving his best, and already we were beyond the last rare outposts of light on the Lothian Road. ' 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 vou ! ' 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, Avhich I doubt — it appears to me that I have just done you a service; and that makes tv^'ice.' THE ASSEMBLY BALL 251 ' A service, madam, I shall ever remember.' ' I '11 chance that, sir ; if ye '11 kindly not forget yoursel'.' In resumed silence Ave must have travelled a mile and a half, or two miles, when Miss Gilchrist let down the sash with a clatter, and thrust her head and mamelone cap forth into the night. ''Robie!' Robie pulled up. ' The gentleman will alight.' It Avas only Avisdom, for Ave were nearing Swanston. I rose. ' Miss Gilchrist, you are a good Avoman ; and I think the cleverest I liaA^e 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 shaAvl ! ' But the coach lurched forward ; the Avheels splashed me ; and I Avas left standing, alone on the inclement higliAvay. While yet I Avatched the little red eyes of the vehicle, and almost as they vanished, I heard more rumbling of Avheels, and descried two pairs of yelloAV eyes upon the road, toAvards Edin- burgh. There was just time enough to plunge aside, to leap a fence into a rain-soaked pasture ; and there I crouched, the Avater squishing over my dancing-shoes, Avhile Avith a flare, a slant of rain, and a glimpse of flogging drivers, tAVO hackney carriages pelted by at a gallop. CHAPTER XXXII EVENTS OF FRIDAY MORNING : THE CUTTING OF THE GOHDIAN KNOT I PULLED out my watch. A fickle ray — the merest filtration of moonlight — glimmered on the dial. Fourteen minutes past one ! ' Past yin o'clock, and a dark, haary moarnin'.' I re- called the bull voice of the watchman as he had called it on the night of our escape from the Castle — its very tones : and this echo of memory seemed to strike and reverbei*ate 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 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 communi- cated 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 ; since Flora would not be due before eight o'clock, if, indeed, I might count on her eluding her double cordon of spies. The question waSj whither to turn in the meantime .'' Certainly not back to the town. In the near neighbourhood I knew of no roof but The Hunter's 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 hkely to extend his hospitality to a traveller with no more luggage than a Paisley shawl ? 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 252 THE CUTTING OF THE GORDIAN KNOT 253 in the district, and familiar : an oriflamrae of battle over the barter of dairy produce and malt liquors. Alexander Hendry 7nHsi recognise it, and with an instinct of antagonism. Patently it formed no part of my proper Avardrobe : hardly could it be explained as a gage d'amuur. Eccentric hunters trysted luider Hendry's roof •" the Six Foot Club, for instance. But a hunter in a frilled shirt and waistcoat sprigged with forget-me-nots ! And the house would be Avatched, 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, Avhile 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 Avas as if I had pulled the string of a douche- bath. Heaven flooded the fool Avith gratuitous tears ; and the fool sat in the puddle of them and kncAv his folly. But heaven at the same time mercifully veiled that figure of abasement ; and I will lift but a corner of the sheet. Wind in hidden gullies, and the talk of lapsing Avaters on the hillside, filled all the spaces of the night. The high road lay at my feet, fifty yards or so beloAv my boulder. Soon after two o'clock (as I made it) lamps appeared in the direction of SAvanston, and' dreAv nearer ; and two hackney coaches passed me at a jog-trot, toAvards the opaline haze into Avhich the Aveather had subdued the lights of Edinburgh. I heard one of the drivers curse as he Avent by, and inferred that my open-handed cousin had shirked the Aveather 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 Avoke by snatches. I Avatched the moon descend in her foggy circle; but I saAV also the mulberry face and minatory forefinger of Mr. Romaine, and caught myself explaining to him and Mr. Robbie that their joint proposal to mortgage my inheritance for a flying broomstick took no account of the working-model of the Avhole Rock and Castle of Edinburgh, Avhich I dragged about by an ankle chain. Anon I Avas pelting Avith RoAvley in a claret- coloured chaise through a cloud of robin-redbreasts ; and Avith that I aAvoke to the veritable chatter of birds and the white light of daAvn upon the hills. The truth is, I had come very near to the end of my endur- 2 54 ST. I FES ance. Cold and rain tofifether, sujiervening in that hour of the spirit's default, may well have made me light-headed ; nor was it eas}' 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 craAvled down to the road. Glancing along it for sight or warning of the runners, I spied, at two gunshots' distance or less, a milestone with a splash of white upon it — a draggled placard. Abhorrent thought! Did it announce the price upon the head of Champdivers ? ' At least I wiH 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 experi- ences to anything in the way of cold shivers. I discovered my mistake while approaching that scrap of paper. ' AERIAL ASCENSION EXTRAORDINARY ! ! ! IN THE MONSTRE BALLOON " LUNARDI " Professor Bvfield (hy Diploma), the World-renowned exponent of aerostatics and aeronautics, Has the honour to inform the Xobility and Gentry of Edinburgh and the neighbourhood ' The shock of it — the sudden descent upon sublimity, accord- ing 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 a- uncontrollable as it was idiotic. Once I pulled up in the middle of a spasm to marvel irresponsibly at the sound of mj own voice. You may wonder that I had will and wit to be drifted towards Flora's trysting place. But in truth there was no missing it — the low chine looming through the weather, the line of firs topping 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 left of the path, Avhich 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 THE CUTTING OF THE GORDIAN KNOT 255 fro, idly counting my steps ; for the chill crept back into my bones if I halted for a minute. Once 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 Howered 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 ! ' ' My poor Anne ! ' ' The shaAvl 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 napkin.' She led the way to the quarry. I praised her forethought ; having in those days still to learn that woman's first instinct, 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 wns our first housekeeping ; the first breakfast of our honeymoon I called it, rallying her. ' Starving I may be ; but starve I Avill in sight of food, unless you share it,' and, ' It escapes 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 pretence 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 detec- tives and two volunteers.' 256 ST. I FES ' 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. Oh, be serious ! ' ' Now you are talking like Mr. llomaine.' ' 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. ' Good Lord ! ' said I : ' if I hadn't forgotten the money ! ' ' I think nothing teaches you/ sighed she. She had sewn them tightly in a little bag of yellow oiled silk ; and as I held it, Avarm 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 Rampant of Scotland, in imitation of the poor toy I had carved for her — it seemed, so long ago ! ' I wear the oi-iginal,' 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 sur- prised. '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 shep- herd's plaid and bonnet powdered with mist. He halted before us and nodded, leaning rheumatically on his staff. 'A coarse raoarnin'. Ye '11 be from Leadburn, I 'm thinkin' ?' THE CUTTING OF THE GORDIAN KNOT 257 'Put it at Peebles,' said I^ making shift to pull the shawl close about my damning finery. ' 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 recom- mend ye no to be lazin' ower the meat, gin ye 'd drap in for the fun. A 'm full late, mysel' ! ' 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 us, what is Ihat ? ' 'It sounds to me like Gow's version of The Caledonian Hunt's Delight, on a brass band.' Jealous poAvers ! Had Olympus conspired to ridicule our love, that w^e must exchange our parting vows to the public strains of The Caledonian Hind'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 sm-- mise, 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 hillside. And here we pulled up together with a gasp. Right beneath us lay a green meadow, dotted with a crowd of two or three hundred people ; and over the nucleus of this gathering, where it condensed into a black swarm, as of bees, there floated, not only the dispiriting music of The Caledonian Hunt's Delight, but an object of size and shape suggesting the Genie escaped from the Fisherman's Bottle, as described in M. Galland's ingenious Thousand and One Nights. It was By- field's balloon — the monster Lunardi — in process of inflation. 'Confound Byfield ! ' I ejaculated in my haste. ' Who is Byfield ? ' ' 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 ray escape. That man dogs me like fate.' I broke oif sharply. ' And after all, why not ? ' I mused. 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 Ronald. The boy stepped forward, and, ignoring my bow, laid a hand on Flora's arm. 258 ST. IVES ' 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 " compromise " for home consumption; and further, that against adversaries 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 Ronald ; you cannot answer that. And while you play the game of insult to your sister, sir, I will see that you eat the discredit of it.' 'Excuse me,' interposed the Major, stepping forward. 'As Ronald said, this is not the moment for quarrelling; and, as you observed, sir, the climax is not so far off. The runner and his inen 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 hundred yards away to the left. He was followed closely by my friend of the moleskin waistcoat ; and the pair came sidling down the slope towai'ds 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 quariy 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, dearest; and your thoughts go with me till I come again.' ' Wherever you go, I '11 think of you. Whatever happens, I '11 love you. Go, and God defend you, Anne ! ' Her breast heaved, as she faced the Major, red and shamcfast indeed, but gloriously defiant. THE CUTTING OF THE GORDIAN KNOT 259 '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 pursuers — three noAv, with my full-bodied cousin for whippei-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 receipt of custom, with a deal table and a bowl of sixpences before him. I dashed on him with a ci'own-piece. 'No change given,' he objected, waking up and fumbling 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 veiy bad third, panting — it pleased me to imagine how sorely — across the lower slopes to the eastward. 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 Avin to the centre of the crowd, and a crowd is invariably indulgent to a drunkard. I hung out the glaring signboard 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 "SAith all the good- humour in life. I believe that I descended upon that crowd as a godsend, a dancing rivulet of laughter. They needed entertainment. A damper, less enthusiastic company never gathered to a public show. Though the rain had ceased, and the sun shone, those 'vho possessed umbrellas were not to be coaxed, but held them ..loft with a settled air of gloom which defied the lenitives of lature and the spasmodic cajolery of the worst band in Edin- burgh. 'It'll be near full, Jock .> ' 'It wull.' 'He'll be ^tartin' in a meenit.^' 'Aiblins he wull.' 'Wull this be the sbit time ye've seen him .> ' 'I shudna wonder.' It occurred io me that, had we come to bury Byfield, not to praise him, we •night have displayed a blither interest. Byfield himself, bending from the car beneath his gently swaying canopy of liver-colour and pale blue, directed the pro- ceedings with a mien of saturnine preoccupation. He may have been calculating the receipts. As I squeezed to the front. 26o ST. IVES his underlings were shifting the pipe which conveyed the hydrogen gas, and the Lunarcli 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 a round 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 eai'th ; 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 which had carried 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. By field leaves us — to expatiate 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 empy- rean. But he '11 come back — oh, never doubt he '11 come back ! — and begin the dam business over again. Tha's the law 'gravity 'cording to Byfield.' Mr. Dalmahoy concluded inconsequently with a vocal imita- tion 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 demeanour, and groaned aloud. ' Oh, 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 J ' ' Byfield ! ' I called up eagerly, ' I 'm not drunk. Reach me down a ladder, quick ! A hundred guineas if you '11 take me Avith 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 you have honoured with your en- lightened natronage — I tell you I can't.' He cast a glance » THE CUTTING OF THE GORDIAN KNOT 261 behind him into the car — 'with your enhghtened patronage, needs but few Avords of introduction or commendation.' * Hear, hear ! ' from Dahnahoy. ' Your attendance proves the sincerity of your interest — ' I spread out the notes under his eyes. He blinked, but resohitely Hfted his voice. ' The spectacle of a solitary voyager — ' 'Two hundred !' I called up. 'The spectacle of two hundred solitary voyagers— cradled in the brain of a Montgolfier and a Charles — Oh, stop it ! I 'm no public speaker ! How the deuce .'' ' There was a lurch and a heave in the crowd. ' Pitch oot the drunken loon ! ' cried a voice. The next moment I heard my cousin bawling for a clear passage. With the tail 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! It's Champdivers, the murderer ! ' 'Cut the ropes!' vociferated Byfield; and to my infinite 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. Recovering myself on the instant, I bent over. I had on my tongue a neat farewell for Alain, but the sight of a hundred 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 Mole- skin 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 AERONAUTS All this I took in at a glance : I dare say in three seconds oi less. The hubbub 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 Avhile the others cut loose, taking even the asinine precaution to loop the end twice round his wrist. Of course the upward surge of the balloon 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 Ave 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 doAvn together — ' For God's sake hold on ! Catch the anchor when it comes ! You '11 break your neck if you drop ! ' He swung into sight again beyond the edge of the floor, and uplifted a strained, white face. We cast loose the grapnel, lowered it and jerked it towards him. He swung past it like a pendulum, caught at it with one hand, and missed : came flying back on the receding 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 Avere hauling up, hand over hand. We dragged him inboard. He Avas pale, but undefeatedly voluble. THE INCOMPLETE AERONAUTS 263 'Must apologise to you felloAvs, really. Dam silly, clumsy kind of thing to do ; might have been awkward too. Thank you, Byfield, my boy, I Avill : 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 that ? ' He was staring past my shoulder, and on the instant I was aware of a voice — not the aeronaut's — speaking behind me, and, as it were, out of the clouds, — ' I tak' ye to Avitness, Mister Byfield ' Consider, if you please. For six days I had been oscillating within a pretty complete circumference of alarms. It is small blame to me, I hope, that with ray nerve on so nice a pivot, I quivered and swung to this new apprehension 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 disin- volved, there emerged first a hand clutching a rusty beaver hat, next a mildly mdignant 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 con- templated the aeronaut over his glasses with a world of reproach. ' I tak' 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 inspira- tion, 'Allow me to introduce you. Mr. Dalmahoy, Mr. ' ' My name is Sheepshanks,' said the little man stiffly. ' But you '11 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 thousand sheep," and, I make no doubt, shanks in proportion. Excuse you, Sheepshanks .^ My dear sir ! At this altitude 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 bewildered 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 continued, as there leapt 264 ST. IVES into my mind the stanza I had vainly tried to recover in Mrs. McRankine's sitting-room, ' I have the honour to refer you to the inimitable Romanj Flaccus — " Virtus, recludens immeritis mori Coelum negata temptat iter via, Coetusque vulgares et udam Spernit humum fugiente penna." — you have the Latin, sir ? ' ' Not a word.' He subsided upon the pile of rugs and 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 con- struing/ said I, and turned to scan the earth we were leaving — I had not guessed how rapidly. We contemplated it from the height of si\ hundred feet — or BO 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 inaccuracy 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 respectable eminence. And the view was ravishing. The Lunardi mountini? throuiih a stagnant calm in a line almost vertical, had pierced the morning mists, and now swam emancipated in a heaven of exquisite blue. Below 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, I'ather 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 foot of the shaft, imaged, as it were, far down in a luminous well, a green hillside and three figures standing. A white sjDCck fluttered; and fluttered until the rift closed again. Flora's handkerchief! THE INCOMPLETE AERONAUTS 265 Blessings on the brave hand that waved it ! — at a moment when (as I have since heard and knew without need of hearing) lier 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 inventions. I am bound to say that my own faith in aerostatics was 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 Elhoiv, or the reader knows that I am a chicken-hearted fellowabout a height. Imake him a present of the admission. Set me on a plane superficies, and I Avill jog with all the insouciance of a rolling stone : toss me in air, and, Avith 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 confidence. But to my unspeakable relief the Liinardi floated upwards, ;.ud continued to float, almost without a tremor. Only by read- ing the barometer, or by casting sci*aps of paper overboard, muld we tell that the machine moved at all. Now and again we revolved slowly : so Byfield's compass informed us, but for ourselves we had never guessed it. Of dizziness I felt no longer a symptom, for the sufficient 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 N'icomte Anne de St. Yves, I dare assert that for five minutes 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 public character, by George ; and this puts me in a devilish awkward position.' 'So it does,' I agreed. 'You proclaimed yourself a solitary voyager : and here, to the naked eye are four of us.' ' And pray how can I help that ? If, at the last moment, a couple of lunatics come rushing 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. Pro- ceed, sir.' 'You were good enough, just now, to give me yom- name, Mr. ' 266 ST. IVES '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 tec/mica prepared for use during the voyage.' Ml*. Sheepshanks harked back. ' I am a married man^ and — d 'ye see .'' — Mrs. Sheepshanks, as you might say, has no sympathy with ballooning. She w'as a Guthrie of Dumfries.' ' Which accounts for it, to be sure,' said I. 'To me, sir, on the contrary, aerostatics have long been an alhn-ing 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 Limardi, sir. I was present in Heriot's Gardens when he made an ascen- sion there in October '85. He came down at Cupar. The Society of Gentlemen Golfers at Cupar presented him with an address ; and at Edinburgh he was admitted Knight Companion of the Beggai''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 I'edeemed it subsequently : otherwise I might have the pleasure of showing it to you. Oh, 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 ? ' I demanded. He made haste to disclaim. ' Not at all : decidedly not in the least. But the chances were for less agreeable associates.' I bowed. 'And a bargain's a bargain,' he wound up. ' So it is,' said I. ' Byfield, hand Mr. Sheepshanks back his five pounds.' 'Oh, come now!' the aeronaut objected. 'And who may you be, to be ordering a man about .'' ' ' I believe I have already answered that question twice in your hearing.' THE INCOMPLETE AERONAUTS 267 * 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. Dueie ; and you may take it that I 'm Mr. Don't see.' He reached up a hand towards the valve-string. ' What are you 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 soiith 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 pre- tence of picking up a plaid ; for the air had turned bitterly 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 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 !' 268 ST. IFES '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 '11 tell you what I can \nove. 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 suspected me ; that my invasion of your machine was a complete 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 car. "A public character" you call yourself! My word, sir ! thei-e'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 Edin- burgh 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 Avas 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 tlie 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 whisky,' the little pawnbroker announced : 'three bottles. My wife said, "Surely, Elshander, ye'll find whisky where ye're gaun." "No doubt I will," said I, "but THE INCOMPLETE AERONAUTS 269 I 'm not very confident of its quality ; and it 's a far step." My itinerary, INIr. 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 com- municate, to address her letter to the care of the postmaster, Ayr, — ha, ha ! ' He broke off and gazed reproachfully into Dalmahoy's impassive 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 so say, not very gleg.' My hands by this time were numb with cold. We had been ascending steadily, and Byfield's English thermometer 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 Avith 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 intei-vening hills had fallen down, and the towns, as if in fright, had shrunk into themselves, contracting their suburbs as a snail his horns. The old poet was right who said that the Olympians had a delicate view. The lace-makers of Valenciennes might have had the tracing of those towns and high roads ; those knots of guipure and ligatures of finest rcseau-yv orh. And when I considered that what I looked down on — this, with its arteries and nodules of public traffic — was a nation ; that each 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 emblem was the bee, and this Britain the spider'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. 2 70 ST. IVES ' Don't, sir ! I beg that you don't. Your words just now made me suffer a good deal : the more, that I perceive a part of them to be true. An aeronaut sir, has ambition — how can he help it.^ The public, the newspapers, feed it for a while ; they Jete, and flatter, and applaud 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 mountebank — 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 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 Lwiardi be able to maintain itself in the 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 ? ' 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 whisky. Rise, Elshander : observe that you have no worlds left to conquer, and having shed the perfunctory tear, pass the corkscrew. Come along, Ducie ; come, my Daedalian boy ; if you are not hungry, I am, and so is — Sheepshanks — what the dickens do you mean by consorting with a singular verb ? Verhum cum 7iominalivo — I should say, so cn'c 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 tongue ran like a brook. He addressed Mr. Sheej^shanks with light-hearted impartiality as Philip's royal son, as the Man of Ross, as the divine Clarinda. He elected him Professor of THE INCOMPLETE AERONAUTS 271 Marital Diplomacy to the University 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 OAvn 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 whisky, and crawled beneath the pile of plaids. Byfield con- siderately helped to arrange them. 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 posture I dozed through the afternoon. In dreams I heard Dalmahoy and Sheepshanks lifting their voices in amoebsean song, and became languidly aware that they were growing uproarious. I heard Byfield expostulating, 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 : balow, 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 aAvoke 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, collapsed like some monstrous marionette, with legs and arms a-splay. Across his legs, with head propped against a locker, reclined Sheepshanks, and gazed upwards with an approving smile. 'Awkward business,' explained Dalmahoy, between gasps. 'Sheepshanks 'nmanageable ; can't carry his liquor like a gentleman : thought it funny 'pitch out ballast. Byfield lost his temper : worst thing in the world. One thing I pride myself, 'menable to reason. No holding Sheepshanks : Byfield got him down ; too late ; faint both of us. Sheepshanks wants ring for 'shistance : pulls string : breaks. When string breaks Lunardi Avon't fall — tha 's the devil of it.' 272 ST. IVES 'With my tol-de-rol/ Mr. Sheepshanks murmured. 'Pretty — very pretty.' I cast a look aloft. The Ltawrdi was transformed : every inch of it frosted as with silver. All the ropes and cords ran with silver tooj 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 enougli not to lose your head.' ' I wish I could,' he groaned, pressing it between his palms. * My dear sir, I 'm 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 pro- vocation 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 oi ray breathing — much as toothache will drive a man up to the dentist's chair. 1 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 bleeding at the nose and now began to breathe stertorously. Sheejishanks had fallen into placid slumber. I kept the valve open until we descended into a stratum of fog — from which, no doubt, the Lunardi had lately risen : the moisture collected here would account for its congelated coat of silver. By and by, 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 compass. Our course lay south by west. But our whereabouts ? Dalma- hoy, being appealed to, suggested Glasgow : and thenceforward I let him alone. Byfield snored on. I pulled out my watch, which I had forgotten to wind ; and found it run down. The hands stood at twenty minutes 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 THE INCOMPLETE AERONAUTS 273 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 Avhitewashed-fishing-haven. I roused Dalmahoy and pointed. 'The sea !' * Looks like it. Which, I wonder?' * The English Channel, man.' I say — are you sure ? ' ' Eh ? ' exclaimed Byfield, waking up and coming forward with a stagger. ' The English Channel.' ' The French fiddlestick,' said he with equal promptness. ' Oh, have it as you please ! ' I retorted. It was not worth arguing with the man. ' What is the horn' ? ' 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 minutes to foui\ Byfield replaced it and underlined his disgust with a kick. 'A nice lot!' he ejaculated. 'I owe you my thanks, Mr. Ducie, all the same. It was touch and go Avith vis, 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 darkness 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 ns. 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 sand bags and emptied them overboard. The coast, as a matter of fact, was close at hand. But the Lmuirdi 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 m ! ' screamed Byfield, and I had barely time to tighten my ;rip when crash ! the car struck the turf and pitched us together n a heap on the floor. Bump I the next blow shook us like peas Q a bladder. I drew my legs up and waited for the third, s 2 74 ST. IVES None came. The car gyrated madly 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, fell back and was lost, and we swept forward into formless shadow, 'Confound it!' said Byfield, 'the land can't be uninhabited!' It was, for aught we could see. Not a light showed any- where ; and to make things worse the moon had abandoned us. For one good hour we swept through chaos to the tuneless lamentations of Sheejishanks, 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 descended upon us until it touched a distant verge of hills, and there, cut by the rim of the rising sun, flowed suddenly 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 incal- culable beast from its covert : a land shaggy 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. Hullo ! ' 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 westermost hill a grey town rose from the waterside : its terraces climbing, tier upon tier, like seats in an amphitheatre ; its chimneys lifting their smoke over 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 swept across the roadstead towards the town, trailing our grapnel as it were a hooked fish, a bare hundred feet above the watei'. Faces stared up at us from the ships' 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 suburbs and the harbour's mouth, he changed his mind, ' It is devil or deep sea,' he announced. ' We will try the THE INCOMPLETE AERONAUTS 275 grapnel. Look to it, Ducie, while I take the valve!' He pressed a clasp-knife into my hand. ' Cxxi, 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 regiment 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 jDicked 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 chevaiix-de-frise, and held fast. * Hold tight ! ' shouted Byfield, as the car lurched and struggled, careering desperately. ' Don't cut, man ! What the devil ! ' Our rope had tautened over the coping of a high stone wall ; and the straining Lu?iardl — a very large and handsome blossom, bending on a very thin stalk — overhung a 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 uniform brought my knife down upon the rope. In two seconds I had slashed through the strands, and the 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 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 )f the brig yonder; which, as I make out, is backing her sails; ,vhich, again, can only mean that she observes us and is pre- aaring 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 Liinardi 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 Liinardi floated : but it also 2 76 ST. I FES 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. In its new element the machine 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 Avondered 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. Sheep- shanks a minute later, as he sat 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 us 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. Byfield, however, 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 Lwiardi 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 us : the voice English, of a sort ; the face of no pattern that I recognised for Enghsh. 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 sea- faring. And now that I came to look, the three rowers forward, though mere lads, repeated their elders' features and build ; the gaunt frame, the long, serious face, the swarthy complexion and meditative eye — in short, Don Quixote of la Mancha at various stages of growth. Men and lads, I remarked, wore silver earrings. I was speculating on this likeness when we shipped oars md fell alongside the brig's ladder. At the head of it my land was taken, and I was helped on deck with ceremony by a vail man in loose blue jacket and duck trousers : an old man, bent and frail ; by his air of dignity, the master of the vessel, s nd by his features as clearly the patriarch of the family. He 277 278 ST. IVES lifted his cap and addressed us with a fine but (as I now recall it) somewhat tired courtesy. 'An awkward 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 convey 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 surprised 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, sir, that I do' not take you precisely.' 'Why,' said I, 'if I may guess, this is one of the famous Falmouth packets .'' ' ' As to that, sir, you are right, and yet wrong. She ivas a Packet^ and (if I may say it) a famous one.' His gaze travelled aloft, and descending rested on mine with a sort of gentle resignation. 'But the old pennon is down, as you see. At present she sails on a private adventure, 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: I 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 Avith my friend here in private for a moment.' I drew Byfield aside. ' Your notes ? The salt water ' ' 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 unaccompanied by a small bottle of Epsom salts, tightly corked,' CAPTAIN COLENSO 279 ' And you threw away the salts and substituted the notes ? — that was clever of you, Byfield.' I lifted my voice. 'And Mr. Dalraahoy, 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 pension I have eighteenpence in ray pocket. But I propose 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 intervening 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 passenger.' A dark-browed wom.an of middle age thrust her head above the ladder and eyed me. Even so might a ruminating 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 you may impose. Whatever the discipline of the ship ' She cut me short. ' Have you told him, father ? ' ' Why, no. You see, sir, 1 ought to tell you that this is not an ordinary voyage.' ' Nor, for that matter, is mine.' ' You will be exjjosed 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 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 Susannah. ' Yes, I will say we are certain. I cannot in conscience do less.' He sought his daughter's eyes. She nodded. ' Oh, damn your conscience ! ' thought I, my stomach rising in contempt for this noble-looking but extremely faint-hearted privateersman, 'Come,' I said, rallying him, 'we foil in with a 28o ST. IVES 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 pulled up in sheer wonder at the lunacy of our dispute and the side he was forcing me to take. Here was I haranguing a grey-headed veteran on his own quarter-deck and exhorting him to valour ! In a flash I saw myself befooled, tricked into playing the patronising amateur, complacently 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 dis- ciplinary for most men, but it turns me obstinate. Captain Colenso, at any rate, dissembled his mirth to perfec- tion. The look which he shifted from me to Susannah 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 ! I must beg of you, sir, not to press it.' 'But I do press it,' I answered, stubborn as a mule. ' 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 your 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 surprised two passably good-looking damsels at their housework, 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, Avho 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 CAPTAIN COLENSO 281 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. ' Dearest, — This line with my devotion 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 Lcidtj Nepean ; and I am a married woman and the mother of six.' ' I felicitate you, 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.' ' You believe ? ' She nodded. ' Young man, if you '11 take my advice, you '11 go back.' 'Madam,' I answered, on the 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 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 finding 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 liava no more to wi-ite than " I love you, 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, IG. It should be consigned to the widow Jupille, "to be called for by the corporal who praised her vin hianc." She will remember ; and in truth a man who had tlie 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 tlie boat waits to take this) I kiss the name of Flora, and subscribe myself — until I come to claim her, and afterwards to eternity — her prisoner. 'Annk.' 282 ST. I FES I had, in fact, a second reason for abbreviating this letter and sealing it in a hurry. The movements of the brig, though sHght, 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 posting it. ' And if your share in our adventure 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 your 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 fellow,' he pro- tested, ' I couldn't dream ... if you are sure it won't incon- venience . . . merely as a loan . . . and deuced handsome of you, I will say.' He kept the cutter waiting while he drcAv an I.O.U., in which I figured as Bursar and Almoner (ho?ioris causa) to the Senatus Academicus of Cramond-on-Almond. Mr, Sheepshanks meanwhile shook hands 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 saj' to him. He stepped into the cutter, 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 Ladj/ Kepean slowly gathered way, while I stood by the bulwarks gazing after my friends and attempting to persuade myself that the fresh air Avas doing me good. Captain Colenso perceived my queasiness, and advised me to seek my berth and lie down ; and on my replying with haggard defiance, took my arm gently, as if I had been a wilful child, and led me beloAv. 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 recovered ap])etite. The ladies of the ship nursed me, and tickled my palate with the lightest of sea diet. The men strowed seats for me on deck, and touched their caps Avith respectful sympathy. One and all were indefatigably kind, but taciturn to a degree beyond belief. A fog of mystery hung and deepened about them and the Lad// Nepean, and I crept about the deck in a continuous evil dream, entangling myself in impossible theories. To begin with, there were eight women on board ; a number CAPTAIN COLENSO 283 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 ; and most of them convicted landsmen by their bilious countenances and unhandy movements; men fresh from the plough-tail by their gait^ yet Avith no ruddy impress of field-work and the open-air. Twice every day, and thrice on Sundays, this extraordinary company gathered bare-headed to the poop for a religious service Avhich it would be colourless to call frantic. It began decoi'ously enough with a quavering exposition of some portion of Holy Writ by Captain Colenso. But by and by (and especially at the evening office) his listeners 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 encouragement; they jostled for the rostrum (a long nine pounder swivel) ; and then speaker after speaker declaimed his soul's experiences until his voice cracked, while the others sobbed, exhorted, even leapt in the air. ' Stronger, brother ! ' ' 'Tis working, 'tis working ! ' * O deliverance ! ' ' O streams of redemption ! ' For ten minutes, or a quarter of an hour maybe, the ship was a Babel, a Bedlam. And then the tumult would die down as suddenly as it had arisen, and dismissed by the old man, the crew, Avith faces once more inscrutable, but twitching Avith spent emotion, scattered to their usual tasks. Five minutes after these singular outbreaks it Avas difficult to believe in them. Captain Colenso paced the quarter-deck once aiore Avith his customary shuffle, his hands beneath his coat- tails, his eyes conning the ship Avith their usual air of mild abstraction, Noav 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 ncA'er 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 Avent about his Avork Avith a concentrated gravity of bearing, as if he fulfilled a remoter purpose, and understood it Avhile he tied his knots into ' grannies,' and generally mis- managed the job in hand. ToAvards the middle of our second Aveek out, Ave fell in Avith a storm — a rotatory affair, and soon over by reason that we struck the outer fringe of it; but to a landsman sufficiently daunting Avhile it lasted. Late in the afternoon I thrust my head up for a look around. We Avere Aveltering along in horrible forty-foot seas, over Avhich our bulwarks tilted at times 284 ST. I FES until from the companion hatchway I stared phimb into the grey sliding chasms, and felt like a fly on the wall. The Ladi/ Nepean hurled her old timbers along under close-reefed main- topsail, and a rag of a foresail only. The captain had housed topgallant masts and 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 helms- man 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, transfigured ; his body swaying easily to every lurch and plunge of the brig, his face entirely composed and cheerful, his salt-rimmed eyes contracted a little, but alert and even boyishly bright. An heroical figure of a man ! My heart warmed to Captain Colenso ; and next morning, as we bowled forward with a temperate breeze on our quarter, I took occasion to compliment him on the Ladi/ Nepean's behaviour. ' Ay/ said he abstractedly ; ' the old girl made pretty good weather of it.' ' I suppose we were never in what you would call real danger ? ' He faced me with sudden earnestness. ' Mr. Ducie, 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 '11 scarce 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 only my 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. ' Why, as to that/ he answered evasively, ' I 've 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 outAvard bound for Halifax. She carried twelve nine-pounder carronades and two long nines, beside a big fellow on a traverse ; and we had the guns you see — eight nine-pounders and one chaser of the same calibre — post-office guns, we call them. But we beat her off after two hours of it.' CAPTAL\ COLEXSO 285 ' 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 excuse 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, IVIr. 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 Avord, in a just, nay, a generous bargain, and were commanded to break it. Is there anything could override that .'' ' I thought of my poor old French colonel and his broken parole ; and was silent. ' Can you not tell me the circum- stances ? ' I 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 con- tinued naively, 'I wanted to learn how a gentleman w^ould look at it.' He searched for a text, turning the pages with long, nervous fingers ; but desisted with another sigh, and, a moment later, Avas 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 286 ST. IVES news of a sail about four miles distant on the lee bow. I fol- lowed the captain on deck. The stranger, a schooner, had been lying-to when first descried in the hazy weather ; but was standing now to intercept us. At two miles distance — it being then about two o'clock — I saw that she hoisted British coloiu's. ' 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 engagement : but it surprised me that he served out no cutlasses, ordered up no powder from the hold, and, in short, took no single step to clear the Lady Nepean for action 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 almost within range Avhen the schooner ran up the stars-and- stripes and plumped a round shot ahead of us by way of hint. I stared at Captain Colenso. Could he mean to surrender without one blow } He had exchanged his glass for a speaking trumpet, and waited, fumbling with it, his face twitching pain- fully. A cold dishonouring suspicion gripped 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 betAveen us I saw him drop his trumpet and run with a crazed face to the taffrail, where the halliards led. The traitor had forgotten to haul down his flag ! It was too late. While he fumbled with the halliards, a storm of musketry burst and swept the quarter-deck. He flung up both hands, spun round upon his heel, and pitched back- wards 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 compas- sion and disgust, willing yet loathing to touch the pitiful corpse, when a woman — Susannah— ran screaming by me and fell on her knees beside it. I saw a trickle of blood ooze beneath the CAPTAIN COLENSO 287 scarlet folds of the flag. It crawled along tlie 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 Lacl^ Xepeati, too! Is that the Cap'n yonder.^ I thought as much. Dead, hey ? Well, he 'd better sfai/ 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 Ladif Keapean into these waters, and Commodore Rodgers no further away than Rhode Island, 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 creatui'es 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 Nepeaii, 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 Manhattcm scliooner.' 'Well, then. Captain Seccombe, I am a passenger on 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.' ' Oh, 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 Avere 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-prison.' 'Lucky for you if you prove it. We'll get to the bottom of this.' He faced about and called, ' Who 's the first officer of this brig } ' 2 88 ST. I FES Reuben 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. ' Now, sir : you are, or wei*e, first officer of this brig .'' ' The pi'isoner, 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 nonchalant dexterity before answering : ' I guess he is. Brig's name .'' * ' The Loch/ Nepean.' ' Mail packet ? ' 'Yes, sir; leastways * 'Now see here. Mister First Officer Colenso junior: its a shortish trip between this and the yard-arm, and it may save you some su-perfluous lying if I tell j-ou that in August, last year, the Lachj Nepeo?i packet. Captain Colenso, outward bound for Halifax, met the Hitchcock privateer off the Great Bank of Newfoundland, and beat her off after two hours' fighting. You were on board of her ? ' ' I tended the stern gun.' ' Veri/ good. The next day, being still off the Banks, she fell in with Commodore Rodgers, of the United States frigate President, and surrendered to him right away.' ' We sank the mails.' 'Y^ou 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. He fed you at his hospitable board ; he would not suffer you to be de-nuded of the least trifle. Nay, what did he promise ? — but to send your father and his crew 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 American prisoners from England. Your father swore to that upon the Old and New Testaments, severally and con- jointly; and the Ladi/ Nepean sailed home for all the world like a lamb from the wolf's jaws, with a single American officer CAPTAIN COLENSO 289 inside of her. And how did your dog-damned Government respect tliis noble confidence ? In a way, sir, that would have brought a blush to the cheek of a low-down attorney's clerk. They re-pudiated. Under shelter of a notification that no exchange of prisoners on the high seas would count as valid, this perjured tyrant and his myrmidons 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 '11 explain how he had the impudence to come within two hundred miles of a coast where his name smelt worse thau 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 family, as you might say, though some of us had wives and families, and some were over to Redruth, to the mines.' ' Stick to the point.' 'But this is the point, Cap'n. He was coming back, you see. The Ladij Nepecm 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, witli 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 bought her ? ' ' That 's what I 'm telling you, sir : though father 'd 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 ; lut we can sell up, and all the world 's a home to them that fears the Lord. We can't stock up with American prisoners, but we can go ourselves instead ; and judging by the prisoners I 've a-seen brought in. Commodore Rodgers '11 be glad to take us. What he does to us is the Lord's affair." That's what she said, sir. Of course w^e kept it quiet : we put it about that the Lady Xepean was for Canada, and the whole family going out T 290 ST. IFES for emigrants. This here gentleman we picked up outside Fahnouth ; perhaps he 've told you.' Captain Seccombe stared at me, and I at Captain Seccombe. Reuben Colenso stood wringing his cap. At length the American found breath enough to whistle. ' I '11 have to put back to Boston about this, though it 's money out of pocket. This here's a matter for Commodore Bain- bridge. Take a seat, Mr. Colenso.' ' I was going to ask,' said the prisoner simply, ' if, before 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 country to her honour. In this hope at least tlie flag which he had hauled down covered his body still as we committed 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 interrogated by that commander ; and, to the honour of the Republic, were released on a liberal parole ; but whether, when the war ended, they returned to Eng- land 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 ntiade my bow to Miss Amelia Seccombe, an accomplished young lady, ' who,' said her doating father, ' has acquired a considerable proficiency CAPTAIN COLENSO 291 in French, and will be glad to swap ideas with you in that language.' Miss Seccombe and I did not hold our communica- tions 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. Con- sequently no Nausicaa figures in this Odyssey of mine. Nay, the excellent girl flung herself into my cause, and bombarded her father and the consular office with such effect that on 2nd February ISli, I waved farewell to her from the deck of the barque Shatrmuf, bound from Boston to Bordeaux. CHAPTER XXXV IN" PARIS. ALAIN I'LAVS HIS LAST CARD On the lOtli of March at sunset the Shanmid passed the Pointe de Grave fort and entered the mouth of the Gironde, and at eleven o'clock next morning dropped anchor a little below Blaye, under the guns of the Regiiliis, 74. We were just in time, a British fleet being daily expected there to co-operate with the Due d'Angouleme and Count Lynch, who was then preparing to pull the tricolor from his shoulder and betray Bor- deaux 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 deplenished 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 totter- ing diligence flatly declined to proceed. The Cossacks and Prussians were at the gates of Paris. ' 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 driver, the aubergiste, the disinterested crowd, shrugged their shoulders. 'To Rambouillet, probably. God knew what was happening or what would happen. The Emperor was at Troyes, or at Sens, or else as near as Fontainebleau ; 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 money, though I hunted Etampes for hours. At length, and at nightfall, I ran against a bow-kneed grey mare, and a cabriolet de place, which by its label, belonged to Paris ; the pair wandering the street under what it would be flattery to call the guidance of an eminently drunken driver. I 292 ALAIX PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 293 boarded him ; he dissolved a.t once into maudlin tears and prolixity. It appeared that on the 2yth 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 Avithin 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 excessively 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 inappreciable, for the grey mare had come to the end of her powers, and her master's monologue kept pace with her. 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 Fontainebleau — 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, and after baiting the grey and dosing ourselves with execrable brandy, pushed forward again. As the sky grew pale about us, 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 visible. 'Where will Monsieur be pleased to descend.'" my driver inquired, 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 had 294 ST. I FES entered it from the south just in tiniCj if I wished, to witness the entry of His Majesty the Emperor Alexander from the north. Soon I found myself one of a crowd converging towards the bridges, to scatter northward along the line of His Majesty's progress, from the Barriere de Pantiu to the Champs Elysees, where the grahd 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 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 is reserved the privilege, under circunistauces non- existing, to accelerate the dawn of Universal Peace. Her suffrage is awaited with the interest which so immense a result naturally inspires,' el cetera. Later on, I possessed myself of a copy of the Prince of Schwartzenberg'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 hav-coloured youth wound up his reading with a ' Vive le Roi!' and his band of walking gentlemen took up the shout. The crowd looked on impassive ; one or two edged away ; and a grey-haired, soldierly horseman (whom I i-ecognised 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, before 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 xMarquis de Mau- breuil — yes, and my cousin, the Vicomte de Saint Yves ! 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 had 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 ALAIX PLAYS HIS LAST CAPxD 295 handkerchief at the end of his ridinij switch^ and this was bad enough. But as he wheeled his bay thoioughbred, 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 ! ' ' Mvent les Bourbons I ' 'A bas le sabot corse ! ' Maubreuil had brought a basketful of white brassards and cockades, and the gallant horsemen began to ride about and press them upon the unresponsive crowd. Alain held one of the badges at arm's length as he pushed into the little group about me, and our eyes met. ' Merci,' said 1, ' relenez-le jusqu'd cc que nous nous rencontrons • — Rue Gregoire de Tours!' His arm with the riding switch and laced handkerchief Avent up as though he had been stung. Before it could descend, I darted aside deep into the crowd which hustled around him, under- standing nothing, but none the less sviUenly hostile. 'A bas les cocardes blanches I' cried one or two. '\Vho was the cur?' I heard Maubreuil's question as he pressed into the rescue, and Alain's reply, ' Peste ! A young relative of mine who is in a hm-ry to lose his head ; whereas I prefer to choose 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 the review, and I turned back and recrossed the river, to seek the Rue du Fouarre and the Widow Jupille. Now the Rue du Fouarre, though once a very famous thorough- fare, 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 followed the 1 06th 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 received in an affair of outposts on the Algueda, and thenceforward 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 patrons. I felt myself, so to speak, a part of 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 a/iquid, quo- cunque loco, quocunque sacello. . , .' 296 57-. IVES Madame Jupille knew me at once, and we fell (figuratively speaking) upon each other's 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 inquired if she had any letters for me. 'Why, nOj comrade.' ' None .'' ' I exclaimed with a very blank face. ' Not one ' ; Madame Jupille eyed me archly, and relented. 'The reason being that Mademoiselle is too discreet.' 'Ah!' I heaved a big sigh of relief. 'You provoking woman, tell me what you mean by that?' ' 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.' (Oh, Madame Jupille !) "The corporal I'm speaking of," said he, "is or was called Champdivers." " JVas! " I cried, " you are not going to tell me he is dead?" and I declare 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. You are to tell him that if he expects one from " — see, I took the name dow n on a scrap of paper, and stuck it in the wine glass here — " from Miss Flora Gilchrist, he Avill 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. Romaine." ' ' Confound his caution ! ' said I. ' What sort of man was this messenger ? ' 'Oh, a sUiid-looking man, dark and civil spoken. You might call him an upper servant, or perhaps a notary's clerk; very plainly dressecl, 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 Pai'is until I see him." ' You may guess how I cursed Mr. Romaine for this beating 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 compromise 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 w^as the plain injunction, and the lawyer doubtless had a reason for it hidden somewhere ALA IX PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 297 behind his tiresome circumambulatory 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 supreme betrayal, the Emperoi''s abdication, the Cossacks in the streets, the newspaper offices at work like hives under their new editors, and buzzing contradictory 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 broadsheets of opprobrious 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 patriotism the shadow of a shade. Judge me not too hardl}' if in the restless, aimless perambula- tions of those five days, I crossed the bridge between the country that held neither kin nor friends for me, but only my ineffectual jjast, 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 over lunch and a bottle of Beau- jolais, 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, 'you 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 pressing 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.' 298 ST. I FES ' No pains at all/ he corrected affably. ' I have known all the time that you were here. In fact^ I expected you some while before you arrived, and sent my raan^ 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. Romaine, to whom' — with another glance at the letter — ' I perceive you are writing for explanations. And since you are preparing to ask how on eai'th I traced you to this rather unsavoury den, permit me to inform you that a — b spells "ab/' and that Bow Street, when on the track of a criminal, does not neglect to open his correspondence.' I felt my hand tremble as it gripped the top rail of my chair, but I managed to command tiie voice to answer, coldly enough : — ' One moment, Monsieur le Vicomte, before I do myself the pleasure of pitching you out of window. You have detained me these five days in Paris, and have done so, you give me to understand, by the simple expedient of a lie. So far, so good ; will you do me the favour 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 supplied.' 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.' ' Rest 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 on his uncle's memory an obscene curse Avhich only betrayed the essential weakness of the man. Recovering 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 promised him that I would raise the question of undue influence, and that I had my ^vitnesses ready. I have added to them since; but I own to you that my case will be the stronger w hen you have obligingly signed the paper which I have the honour to submit to you.' And he tossed it, unopened, across the table. I picked it up and unfolded it : — ' /, the Viscount Anne de ALA IX PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 299 Keroual de Saint Yves, formerli/ scirivg under the name of C/iainp- divers in the Buonapartist anni/, and late?' tinder that name a prisoner of ivar in the Castle of Edinburgh, herein/ state that I had neither knowledge of my uncle the Count de Keroual de Saint 1 ves, p.or expectations from him, nor iras oniied hi/ him. untd sought out hi/ Mr. Daniel Romaine, in the Castle of Edinburgh, bi/ him supplied rrith 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 nu/ 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 Mr. Romaiue 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 marcchal des logis in the 2ilnd Regimeiit oj' 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. I 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.' ' Oh, you weary me.' I seated myself, and flung a leg over the arm of my chair. ' Shall we come to the alteruative .^ For I assume you have one.' ' The alternative, to be sure,' he answered cheerfully. ' I have a companion below, one Clause!, and at the Tete d'or, a little way up 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 admit), he had spoilt it long since by working on the raw of my temper. I 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. Romaine. The subject is an ugly one for two of our family to touch upon ; but do you happen to recall Mr. Romaine'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 ? ' 300 -ST. IVES 'The best proof is that in sjiite of his threat^ and my open contempt and disregard of it, Mr. Romaine has not stirred a hand.' ' You mean that my uncle destroyed the evidence ?' * I mean notliing 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 cpiietly, '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 form of trial for instance, with witnesses. It is even possible 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 probable that a British jury will hand over the estates of the Comte de Keroual de Saint Yves to an escaped Buonaparti-^t pi'isoner who has stood his trial for tlie murder of a comrade, and received the benefit of the doubt.' 'Allow me,' said I, 'to open the window an inch or two. No ; put back your Avhistle. 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 iii your hand. Well then, play him. Before I tear your foolish paper up, let me have a look at your confederate.' I stepped to the door and called doAvn 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 way down to the Seine. And standing so, I heard the expected footstep-; mounting the stairs. ' I must ask your pardon, Monsieur, for this intrusion ' 'Hey!' If the words had been a chirge of shot fired into ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 301 my back, I could not have spun round on them more suddenly. ' Mr. Romaine ! ' 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 believe there was a significant difference in our complexions. ' M. le Vicomte,' said Romaine advancing, ' recently effected an exchange. I have taken the liberty to effect another, and have left Mr. Clausel below listening to 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 aj^pearance as something in the nature of a miracle. Yet, M. le \'iscount 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 negotiations 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 Rue 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 conversation.' 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. ' ]\Iy dearest Anne, — When your letter came and put life into me again, 1 sat down in my happiness and wrote you one tliat 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 tliis, (wliicli is purely a business letter) is to tell you that the credit does not all belong to Mr. Robbie, or to your Mr. Romaine (wlio by Mr. Robbie's account must be quite a tiresome old gentleman, though well- meaning no doubt). But on the Tuesday after you left us I had a talk \v\{\\ Major Chevenix, and when I really felt quite sorry for him, (though it was no use and I told him so) lie 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 tliis affair on a point of honour, v\hich was quite a 302 -S'7'. I FES (lili'orciit tliiiiff from n-hnt lliri/ said; and tlirit lie c(mi1 ome a mother, you might have predicted it. At any rate I sa . still and read the newspapers; and on the top of them came a letter from Ronald, announcing that the 4- th had their marching, 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 in the Low Countfies. Forthwith nothing would suit my dear girl but we must post to Edinburgli to bid him farewell — in a chariot, this time, with a box seat for her maid and Mr. Rowley. We reached Swanston in time for Ronald to spend the eve of his departure with us at the Cottage and very gallant the boy looked in his scarlet uniform, which he Avore for the ladies' benefit, and which (God forgive us men !) they properly bedewed with their tears. Early next morning >ve 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 4-th 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 they came, and in the first rank, behind the band, rose Major Chevenix. He saw us, flushed a little and 312 ST. I FES gravely saluted. I never liked the man ; but will 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 Ronald Gilchrist marched beside the tattered colours with chin held up 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 it swung round the coi'ner into North Bridge Street ; the rear- rank and the adjutant behind it passed up the Lawnmarket. Our driver was touching up his horses to follow, when Flora's hand stole into mine. And I turned from my own conflicting thouffhts to coir fort her. THE END. ' Primed by T. and A. CoNbTABLE, Printers to Her Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press U.C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES coaMSvain