o 
 
 EDWARD QILLIAT-M-A 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 
 
ie 
 
 & 
 
VELVETEENS 
 
 A NORFOLK STORY. 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD GILLIAT, M.A., 
 
 ASSISTANT MASTER IN HARROW SCHOOL 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 'CHAMPIONS OF THE RIGHT," "DOROTHY DYMOKK," "FOREST OUTLAWS,' 
 "JOHN STANDISH," ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY F. BARNARD. 
 
 PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE GENERAL LITERATURE 
 COMMITTEE. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE, 
 NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, W.C. 
 
 43, QUEEN VICTORIA STREET, E.G. 
 
 BRIGHTON: 135, NORTH STREET. 
 NEW YORK: E. & J. B. YOUNG AND CO. 
 
CONTE NTS. 
 
 I. THE KEEPER'S LODGE 
 
 II. THE POACHERS ... 
 
 III. TAVERN BABBLE 
 
 IV. MINNIE FLETCHER 
 
 V. THE HALL AND THE CLUB ... 
 
 VI. AUNT BESSIE 
 
 VII. JEAN FORBES HAS VISITORS .. 
 
 VIII. SOME CONSEQUENCES 
 
 IX. THE VICAR 
 
 X. A PENNY READING 
 
 XI. WALKING BY MOONLIGHT 
 
 XII. A SUNDAY WALK 
 
 XIII. THE SEARCH 
 
 XIV. THE CLUE 
 
 XV. THE HEDGER'S STORY 
 
 XVI. GEORGE PLAYS A TRUMP CARD 
 
 XVII. THE DEAD HAND 
 
 XVIII. A FIT OF REMORSE 
 
 XIX. THE STRANGER 
 
 XX. THE BOAT RETURNS 
 
 XXI. THE CEYLON TEA 
 
 3 
 
 9 
 17 
 23 
 
 3' 
 4i 
 47 
 53 
 63 
 70 
 
 79 
 
 87 
 
 95 
 
 101 
 
 1 10 
 
 118 
 126 
 136 
 144 
 
 153 
 
 162 
 
 811 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XXII. NOT QUITE AT HOME 
 
 XXIII. How GILES KEPT HIS WORD ... 
 
 XXIV. A LATE REPENTANCE 
 
 XXV. A LOVER'S WALK 
 
 XXVI. AN ULTIMATUM ... 
 
 XXVII. MR. BROWN'S COURIER 
 
 XXVIII. MINNIE'S LAST NIGHT AT HOME 
 
 XXIX. THE WEDDING-DAY 
 
 XXX. MINNIE'S RESOLVE 
 
 PAGE 
 171 
 182 
 IQO 
 200 
 2C9 
 219 
 227 
 
 234 
 242 
 
VELVETEENS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE KEEPER'S LODGE. 
 
 FORBES, head gamekeeper to the 
 Squire of Beckthorp, was just sitting 
 down to his tea in his cosy little lodge by 
 the side of the home wood. It was six 
 o'clock on the evening of the last day in 
 August. The day had been a busy one for Mr. 
 Forbes and his stalwart son, the latter of whom is 
 just giving a finishing touch to his wet hair yonder, 
 as you can see if you peep through the half-open 
 door ; while the only daughter, Jean, is serving up 
 hot a rasher of bacon and fried potatoes, which 
 splutters and crackles merrily as she lifts it from 
 the fire. 
 
 " Steady, lass, steady," murmurs Mr. Forbes, in a 
 deep bass, as he scrutinizes the appetizing dish, and 
 fears to lose a drop of the fat. 
 
 Mr. Forbes had been fetched by the Squire, twenty 
 years back, out of Ayrshire, and he had ever a low- 
 land Scot's eye for thrift. He had been a widower 
 
4 VELVETEENS. 
 
 seven years next Christmas, and Jeannie, now twenty 
 years old, had kept house for him like a good lassie 
 as she was. 
 
 "Now, Angus, tea's ready," she cried to her brother, 
 and set to with a will to pour out the tea, while her 
 father picked out for himself the choicest morsels of 
 4 streaky.' " 
 
 Poor Mr. Forbes ! you must not deem him selfish 
 for thinking of himself first ; he had been out all day 
 and had eaten nothing since breakfast time : for 
 to-morrow was the beginning of partridge-shooting, 
 and there were gentlemen staying at the hall, friends 
 of Master Aubrey, the Squire's eldest son, who were 
 expecting a good day. The keeper's hair is touched 
 with grey, but his ruddy face and strong frame seem 
 to betoken many years before him. Angus, not 
 quite so tall as his father, is strongly knit ; like his 
 sister, his hair is fair and skin white, where the sun 
 and wind have not browned it to mahogany. They 
 sit and talk not ; Jean knows it is useless speaking 
 just yet, while her father and brother are so absorbed 
 in the business of the evening. She finds it lonely, 
 at times, living in the keeper's lodge, away from the 
 village and the pleasant give-and-take of village 
 talk ; though she does sometimes lock up the house, 
 and trip down the hill to the village shop and post- 
 office. Just now, not being so hungry as the others, 
 she lifts her blue eyes dreamily to the big rafter 
 of oak which crosses the ceiling, from which hangs 
 her father's double-barrelled gun, the trigger-guard 
 of which shines like silver in the firelight ; there, 
 too, is fastened up the old copper powder-flask, 
 curiously cased, which he had brought with him 
 out of Ayrshire in the days when breech-loaders 
 were in their infancy. Then she gets up and gives 
 the logs on the hearth a stir with her shapely foot, 
 making fireworks blaze up the wide chimney, and 
 
THE KEEPER'S LODGE. 5 
 
 calling from the turpentine of the pine an aromatic 
 odour which pervades the little room. 
 
 " There ! " says Mr. Forbes, sitting back in his 
 chair, and wiping his mouth with the back of his 
 hand, <4 1 think you managed that rasher as well as 
 your poor mother ever could ha' done it, Jeannie." 
 
 Jean smiled across the table, and held out her 
 hand for her father's cup, saying, " It's a hard life you 
 have, father, out in the woods and among the turnips 
 all weathers : I'm sure you and Angus deserve 
 something nice when you come home. But where's 
 Willie ? He's very late to-night ; he didn't ought to 
 be so late as this." 
 
 " We left him with Jim, the watcher," said Angus, 
 stopping in his drink ; " the youngster was helping 
 to chop some light timber." 
 
 "Ha! that reminds me," said Mr. Forbes, medi- 
 tating with his head leaning on his hand, as he 
 looked sideways into the hissing fire, " I ha' dreamed 
 thrice o' losing teeth lately ; there's some bad news 
 brewing, I doubt it. A body never dreams o' teeth 
 but there's a death coming in the family." 
 
 "Oh, father, don't be so fearsome," said Jean, 
 trying to laugh the omen away. 
 
 "I hope that boy hasn't gone and cut hisself 
 in two with a hatchet, Angus ; did you warn him 
 now ? There's only two on you, and we can't be 
 too careful of one another." 
 
 This was Mr. Forbes's Scotch way of showing affec- 
 tion ; he went on in his most lugubrious voice 
 
 " Mind, childer, if aught happens any day to me, 
 there's two hundred pounds saved up in yonder bank ; 
 and I shouldn't wonder if the old Squire would clap 
 Angus i' my place." 
 
 " Come, father," said Angus, patting the game* 
 keeper gently on the shoulder, " don't you give 
 way to the megrims this how. Willie is all right, 
 
6 VELVETEENS. 
 
 I'll be bound ; and you don't look like dying 
 this thirty year. You must ha' eaten your bacon too 
 fast and got a touch o' indigestion ; that's what it 
 is, most like." 
 
 At this moment the door was flung open, and 
 a yellow-haired boy of twelve rushed in, crying, 
 "What do you think?" 
 
 "Think? why, shut that door," said his father, 
 gruffly. Now that Willie had come back all safe, 
 the gamekeeper began to be ashamed of his late fore- 
 bodings ; and, being ashamed, he was disposed to be 
 angry with somebody. Therefore, Willie, being the 
 youngest, was a very convenient valve for explosion. 
 
 " What do you think?" began Willie again, with all 
 the glee that small boys feel when they find them- 
 selves possessed of some news which has not yet been 
 vouchsafed to their elders. 
 
 " Well, I think you'll ha' to go supperless to bed 
 that's what I think." 
 
 The boy pouted ; he did so want to deliver his 
 message, and he could get no fair hearing for it. At 
 last, in a pet, he bawled out, " I thought you was the 
 Squire's gamekeeper, and cared about yer game, 
 but I finds yer doesn't, so it's no matter." 
 
 "What is it, Willie ? " said Angus, putting a hand 
 on each cheek, and lifting the boy's face. "You 
 needn't be rude to your father, you know ; but what 
 is the matter ? " 
 
 " Oh nothing, if father doesn't care about hearing," 
 said Willie. 
 
 It was very clear that Willie was a spoilt boy ; 
 being so much younger than the others, he had been 
 treated by the rest like a pet lamb ; and, like a 
 pet lamb, he was apt to be skittish and petulant. 
 Mr. Forbes put down his pipe, which he had been 
 beginning to fill, and, drawing the boy to him, 
 said 
 
THE KEEPER'S LODGE. 7 
 
 " Now, be douce, laddie, and tell us what you've 
 got to tell us. Have you put up any more partridges 
 down yonder ? " 
 
 Willie began again to feel himself growing im- 
 portant ; he had secured a splendid audience ; 
 he could afford to smile now. 
 
 "What do you think, father ? Jim says he thinks 
 they poachers is netting t'other side o' Firlebv 
 wood." 
 
 Mr. Forbes clapped both hands on the table, and 
 half rose. 
 
 "Did Jim bid you run home and tell your 
 father ?" 
 
 " Yes, that he did ; says he, ' Be sure you axe him 
 to get some men to come along wi' him ; for they's 
 be a posse of 'em.' " 
 
 " Angus, lad, get thee a good ash stick ; I'll take 
 a rook rifle in case " 
 
 " Oh, father, be careful," cried Jean, with a quiver- 
 ing lip as she buttoned his coat for him ; then the 
 two men went out. 
 
 The door was unsnecked again, and Mr. Forbes re- 
 appeared 
 
 " Good night, bairns ; if I don't come home timely, 
 good night." 
 
 He had kissed them both, Jeannie and Willie, 
 and had again gone forth into the darkness. 
 
 Jean did not at once clear the things away, but 
 sat looking into the fire at the charred bough, the 
 spluttering root, the white bed of charcoal ; but she 
 saw nothing in the fire but her own presentiments. 
 Strange! that talking of teeth, and death, and 
 money saved, and " taking my place ; " and then that 
 coming back to bid them good night, and kissing 
 them both : it was not his wont to kiss them on 
 week days. On Sundays he would take Jean on 
 his knee and tease her about her young man, who 
 
8 VELVETEENS. 
 
 had gone to London to better himself, and end 
 up by kissing her because she was so like her poor 
 mother. But to come back just for that seemed 
 so strange. Surely he had had a call, and knew it. 
 Jean's mind was infected with much of the Scotch 
 superstition which clung about her father, and 
 the more she brooded over it, the more she 
 conjured up terrible scenes of bloodshed, till at 
 last Willie looked up from his supper, and 
 said 
 
 " Why don't you talk, Jean ? " 
 
 " Oh, I'm frightened to death of those poachers, 
 Willie ! " 
 
 " Bosh ! I'm not ; when I've had my supper I shall 
 go out and look for them. I say, Jean, suppose 
 Angus got hit on the head and was carried in 
 looking like dead ! Should you like that ? " 
 
 No reply ; the boy went on 
 
 " Suppose father and Angus were both killed, and 
 only you and I were left, how would you like 
 
 " Hush ! was that a noise outside ? " 
 
 They both listened long and breathlessly ; the 
 wind had arisen, and some branches were scraping 
 and tapping on the window-pane. 
 
 " I shan't go out and see," % said the boy, dog- 
 gedly ; " you have made me all of a tremble. I 
 think I had better go to bed." 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE POACHERS. 
 
 ?HE keeper and his son hurried over 
 the little strip of garden, and crossed 
 the streamlet that was bickering to the 
 sea. The dogs heard them as they slept 
 in their kennels, and clamoured for per- 
 mission to accompany them. The ferrets scampered 
 about in their hutches, for they, too, smelt the 
 keeper's pockets. 
 
 "Shall we take the mastiff, father?" 
 " Na, na ; let her bide yonder. She shall fright 
 the game. Well, I dunno, though ; she might help 
 us to find the rascals. Yes, lad, go and let her out, 
 but keep fast hold of her ; pass a thong through 
 her collar." 
 
 "All right, father; I'll catch you as you go down 
 the lane." 
 
 The keeper trudged on, bending forward a little 
 as he walked, and inwardly grudging that these 
 lazy loons, who did no work all day, should be spoil- 
 ing thus ruthlessly his own work of so many 
 months. Presently he lifted the latch of a cottage 
 door. The light streamed out and across the road, 
 dazzling his eyes ; yet he saw a picture of children 
 
io VELVETEENS. 
 
 playing on the floor, a woman sewing, and a man 
 smoking a long clay pipe. 
 
 " Who's you ? " said the man. 
 
 " Can't you see? Come along wi' me, John Gibbons, 
 at oncet." 
 
 The picture was broken up: the wife cried, 
 " Bless us all ! " the man muttered, " Well, I am 
 blowed ! " and the children clustered together with 
 their fingers in their mouth, fixing wide eyes on 
 the dog-whistle that hung from the button-hole of 
 the keeper's velveteen coat. 
 
 " John, go, knock out Bill Johnson and his brother ; 
 tell them to bring a stick wi' 'em ; there's poachers 
 at it beyond Firleby wood." 
 
 " Never, sure-ly ! All right, master ; shall you 
 up to Church Lane and then cut in through the 
 bracken by the big oak tree ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, man alive ; hurry off now. We'll meet 
 under the oak. Good night, Mrs. Gibbons ; sorry to 
 trouble you." 
 
 "Ah, a pleasant-mannered man," smiled Mrs. 
 Gibbons to herself, as she gathered up her work ; 
 " and I remember, when he first came into these parts, 
 how we all fought shy of him with his outlandish 
 speech ; but he's mislarnt most of that now. Ay, 
 and his wife, too ; she was a thrifty soul, and many's 
 the time she's come into my father's house and rated 
 on us soundly for wasting good food. She were 
 as bad as Parson's wife for that matter. But Mr. 
 Forbes, he be a pleasant, God-fearing man as ever 
 put money by in the savings bank." 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Forbes had been overtaken by 
 his son and the mastiff, the latter bidding him good 
 evening in the dark by pushing her soft muzzle into 
 the keeper's hand. 
 
 At the bottom of the hill they crossed the 
 churchyard, passed through a quiet' street at the 
 
THE POACHERS. it 
 
 backs of some houses, and turned up Church 
 Lane towards the sandy knoll on which stood the 
 big oak tree. 
 
 " What poachers can they be, father ? " said Angus, 
 when the village lay behind them, and the steep 
 hill made fast walking inconvenient to the elder 
 man. 
 
 " None of ours, I'll lay a wager. There's the cobbler 
 yonder he's at Nether Beckthorp ; I met him 
 going that way a couple of hours ago. Then there's 
 those fishing lads they don't net ; they goes boldly 
 out with a gun, as if the shooting was their own. 
 No don't 'e walk so fast, lad, I shrewdly suspect 
 it be some chaps from Yarmouth or Norwich, come 
 down to get birds for the early market yonder. 
 But they'll be mista'en, I reckon." 
 
 Soon they had climbed lip to the knoll, and were 
 waiting under the oak tree for their watchers and 
 beaters. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Mr. Forbes, getting his breath slowly, 
 and speaking very low, "it was in this hollow tree 
 that I found old Bob Smith's gun : that did for him ; 
 because the Squire well ! he never turned a body 
 off, no matter what feckless thing he'd a done ; 
 but young Master Aubrey, he got wind on it, and 
 never rested till he got shut of him, right out o' 
 home and parish. That's why we've no poachers 
 about our ways, 'cepting them fishing chaps ; and 
 I'll defy anybody to stop them they're that gallons." 
 
 " They are very free and independent, to be sure ; 
 but I have heard say that they are sprung from a 
 race that owned all this country before ever the 
 Squire and his like came to England." 
 
 " Humph ! book-larning, Angus, book-larning, I 
 reckon ; don't think much on it. However, they 
 do behave as if they was the lords of the boat, 
 and Squire was a bit o' figure-head as they could 
 
12 VELVETEENS. 
 
 
 
 knock off when they liked. What's that ? be they 
 coming ? " 
 
 "Yes, the bitch wags her tail, and trembles." 
 
 "Did you go through the allotments, lad, this 
 morning ? " 
 
 " Yes, father, and I took Venus with me ; we 
 found no game hidden, but several of the tenants 
 said they had been eaten up with hares." 
 
 " I dare say ! and how many has they eaten ? " 
 
 At this moment the watchers came up, and the 
 keeper divided the party into two detachments, he 
 and his son and the mastiff going straight through 
 Firleby wood, w r hile four men went round the wood 
 on the high ground. 
 
 " You see, lads, if they run, they'll make for the 
 Station Road. Be quiet and don't ye talk now." 
 
 Thus they parted. The keeper and his son climbed 
 the steep hill towards the wood ; they were deep in 
 bracken and moved slowly; further up the hill the 
 bracken gave way to heather, and on the top was a 
 fir wood lowering dark against the drifting clouds. 
 They could scarce see the gap in the hedge which 
 led to the wood, but when once under the shadow 
 of the trees all was mirk, and many a stumble 
 they made against the big roots. 
 
 At last they reached a more open space, where a 
 raised footpath had been made and a trench cut 
 on either side ; here they walked in Indian file, 
 Angus leading with the mastiff. 
 
 Every now and then they paused to listen for any 
 sound that might betoken the whereabouts of the 
 poachers, but the only sound they heard was the 
 rustling in the tree-tops. 
 
 On reaching the highest ground in the wood, 
 where the bracken was long, a hare came running 
 up to them, not seeming to see them though they 
 stood right in her way. 
 
THE POACHERS. 13 
 
 " Hist, lad ! she's been disturbed ; they must be 
 down t'other side of the wood ; you go straight on, 
 I'll cut across this 'ere way." 
 
 The keeper turned off to the right ; when he 
 reached the bottom, he would find a sandy lane 
 between the two woods. 
 
 Angus went on with the mastiff till he came to 
 the brow of the hill. Straight in front of him, 
 about two miles off, lay the sea ; he could just 
 discern the lights of two or three vessels that were 
 passing along the coast. Here he stopped to 
 listen ; he could plainly hear his father's steps as 
 he brushed through the fern or trod upon a stick. 
 There was no sound from the opposite hill, yet 
 the mastiff threw up her nose and growled. 
 
 "Well, you know best, old girl, so I'll follow your 
 lead. Hi! good bitch." 
 
 The mastiff, thus encouraged, put her muzzle to 
 the ground, and strained at the leash, making more 
 for the direction taken by the gamekeeper. They 
 had scarce gone forty paces when a shout arose 
 from the opposite hill ; then came the sounds of a 
 scuffle ; sticks were being used. Angus rushed down 
 the hill, pulling at the mastiff, for the bitch wanted 
 to go to her master. Then suddenly came a gun- 
 shot on his right ; it might have been the keeper 
 peppering a poacher : but no ; he remembered that 
 his father had taken a rook-rifle, and the report 
 which he had just heard was more like that of some 
 old blunderbuss. 
 
 Angus stopped and shouted, " Father, are you all 
 right ? " 
 
 There was no reply, but the mastiff trembled and 
 strained eagerly. 
 
 "Dash the dog! I must go where you like, I 
 suppose." 
 
 Angus struck off to his right, hearing the shouts 
 
I 4 VELVETEENS, 
 
 grow fainter over the hill ; suddenly the hound 
 began to quest about in the bracken, turning here 
 and there once or twice, then suddenly came to a 
 stop and nosed about uneasily. 
 
 It was too dark to see, so Angus put his foot 
 out ; something soft lay there, as he could feel ; he 
 then stooped down and put out his hand. 
 
 " By all that's it's a man ! Come, mate, speak ; 
 are you hurt ? " 
 
 He tried to lift the body ; what was his horror 
 to feel that his hand was on his father's velveteen 
 coat! 
 
 " Father, father ! Speak to me ! Where are you 
 hit?" 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 " Good God, have pity on me ! " groaned the 
 poor fellow, almost beside himself with grief and 
 anxiety. 
 
 Then, recollecting himself, he pulled out a box of 
 matches, and lighting one held it to his father's face. 
 
 The ashy colour and half-closed eyes sickened 
 him with fear. The match spluttered and went out. 
 He lit another, and looked about for the wound ; 
 there was blood trickling from the back of the head, 
 just above the neck, and not far from the ear. 
 What was to be done ? the second match had gone 
 out, there was only one left. This time he piled a 
 few dry sticks and leaves together, and lit them 
 with his last match ; they began to burn with a 
 crackling noise, but there was more smoke than 
 fire, and he could see no better. 
 
 " If I leave him here, while I go for the doctor, 
 he may bleed to death," thought Angus ; " yet I can 
 do no good by staying: he is hit in the head. 
 Poor father ! what can I do ? " 
 
 The unfortunate young man seemed dazed ; he 
 was now but twenty-four years old. It flashed across 
 
THE POACHERS. 1 5 
 
 his mind on a sudden how kind his father had been 
 to him, and how often he had caused his father 
 pain. What ! was it all over now ? Should he never 
 have another chance of proving that he was grateful, 
 that he loved his father ? 
 
 He buried his face in his hands, and groaned. 
 Presently he knelt by the stricken man and prayed 
 aloud 
 
 " O Lord, have mercy on us both ; if it be Thy 
 will, save my father. O dear Lord, if it by Thy will, 
 save me from this bitter sorrow. O dear ! O dear ! 
 what shall I do ? God help me ! God help me ! " 
 
 There was a rustle in the grass ; it was only a 
 little rabbit sitting up on its hind legs and wonder- 
 ing what was going on. But it served to recall 
 Angus to a sense of his position. He looked round 
 for the mastiff: she had gone; he was deserted, 
 then, and alone. He pulled up some fern, and piled 
 it up for a cushion for his father's head ; he bound 
 the wound as well as he could with a handkerchief, 
 and took his father's gold repeating watch (which 
 had been a present from a former master), and 
 stumbled, half dazed with anguish, down the hill. 
 
 When the wood got a little clearer he shouted ; 
 there was a distant echo which seemed to mock his 
 efforts. 
 
 "Help! the keeper's shot!" 
 
 The faint echo brought back the cry, "Help 
 the shot ! " with what seemed a parody of his de- 
 spairing tones. Then with a sigh he jumped into 
 the lane, and started off at a run for Nether Beck- 
 thorp. 
 
 There lived the doctor ; there lived the village 
 policeman : these were the only two he could think 
 of who might serve him in this extremity. His legs 
 seemed to faint under him, he staggered and had 
 to rest against a gate. Prayers and anguished cries 
 
1 6 VELVETEENS. 
 
 of "Oh, my poor father! Oh, my sister !" broke 
 from him at intervals. At length he said aloud 
 to himself, " This is madness. I have got Jean to 
 think about. God helping me I'll go on with this 
 and do my best. Poor Jeannie ! it will be worse for 
 her far." 
 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 TAVERN BABBLE. 
 
 >HE parlour of the "Three Jolly-boats 
 Tavern" was reeking with tobacco 
 smoke ; a sort of informal village 
 council was sitting sitting round a 
 large table, engaged this evening, as 
 heretofore, in discussing sundry glasses of grog. 
 
 Sometimes a word was thrown in which set 
 the folk a-thinking, and after divers whiffs at the 
 churchwarden some argument was advanced for or 
 against the idea ; immediately their tongues were 
 loosed, and they spoke all together. A fine lot of 
 men were these fisher-folk of Nether Beckthorp ; 
 there seemed to be a strong family likeness amongst 
 them, and, indeed, it was said that all the fisher-folk 
 in the village were cousins, more or less removed. 
 It is a fact that they were nearly all Fletchers ; and, 
 to avoid confusion, it was usual for each family to 
 choose a nickname, such as Billy Key Fletcher, Tom 
 Spade Fletcher, Dick Nozzle Fletcher, by which 
 simple means every one (occasionally) got his own 
 letters from the post-office. 
 
 There were, however, two distinct types of face ; 
 
 C 
 
iS VELVETEENS. . 
 
 the one dark-eyed with Roman nose and black 
 shaggy hair, the other fair and freckled, with 
 bright red hair and blue eyes. They had none 
 of the cowed and deferential air so often seen in 
 the country, but stood up and looked a stranger 
 straight in the face, and answered or not as the 
 whim took them. Yet, as a rule, you would get a civil 
 and courteous reply ; they had none of the rude- 
 ness and ill-breeding of your mill-hands of Lanca- 
 shire. If they were independent, it was because 
 the ocean free had made them so ; and because 
 they were strong they could afford to deal with 
 you as an equal deals: they did not give them- 
 selves airs to frighten you, and make you think 
 them stronger than they were. 
 
 " Well, I say Squire has done well by us all along," 
 said a black-haired giant, clapping his fist so hard 
 on the table that all the half-empty glasses jumped 
 up and rattled, as if they were saying, " Hear, 
 hear!" 
 
 Then came a pause and sundry puffs. 
 
 "He has so," said another; "them allotments 
 yonder what should we be without them, I'd 
 like to know ? " 
 
 "No pig, no greens, no taters," said a third 
 slowly, tapping the table softly as each item was 
 ticked off. 
 
 " Howsomever," said a thin, red-haired young 
 man, " Squire gets more out on us than he would if 
 he farmed it hisself." 
 
 "He do that's right that's right," were the 
 sententious comments of nearly every member of 
 the council. 
 
 "We did well enough till that young twopenny 
 came home to rule the roast." 
 
 "What's he done ? d'ye mean Squire's son ? " 
 
 " Of course ; hasn't he started game-preserving, 
 
TAVERN BABBLE. l 
 
 like them south-country chaps ? Why, afore he came 
 trapessing about they turnips, we wasn't eat up by 
 hares and pheasants." 
 
 " That's right," was the repeated comment ; and 
 grave heads were shaken over the Squire's fall from 
 the path of righteousness. 
 
 " I think we ought to make it a subject of prayer 
 at our meetings i' chapel," said an elder of the 
 Primitive Methodists, pursing up his lips as one 
 who has been painfully obliged to have recourse to 
 a desperate remedy. 
 
 "The chapel's a freehold," added another en- 
 couragingly. 
 
 There was a good deal of meaning in these last 
 words and the council took seven minutes by the 
 post-office clock to gather it all in and spread it, 
 as it were, to dry on the beach of thought. At last 
 an old hand replied 
 
 " We should be freer men, if we had no allot- 
 ments." 
 
 That required some soaking, and one or two 
 spoons began looking for sugar at the bottom of 
 the tumbler. 
 
 "You must forgive me trying back, mates; but 
 I think it be the over-preserving of game that does 
 the mischief." 
 
 All heads were turned to look at this speaker, 
 who was none other than Harry Bent, the radical 
 cobbler of Beckthorp. He was a thin, puny body, 
 with a large head and ears that flapped to and fro, 
 as though Nature had at first intended them for a 
 young elephant, but finding them a misfit, had 
 bestowed them on Harry. 
 
 "You will find that most of our troubles now 
 will arise from this source ; the abundance of game 
 not only devours our garden stuff, but attracts a 
 lot of rascals from the big towns. We were once 
 
20 VELVETEENS. 
 
 living here as in a garden of Paradise innocent 
 and neighbourly : now we shall be visited by ruffians ; 
 our own young men will be tempted to snare a hare ; 
 then comes Master Policeman and claps young 
 Fletcher in gaol. Nether Beckthorp will wax angry 
 when her boys are sent to gaol for spoiling Master 
 Aubrey's little toy." 
 
 "Ah, that's right! that's right, cobbler.' 1 
 
 The cobbler cleared his throat as he glanced round 
 for his applause, which he mentally collected and 
 put in his breast pocket ; for he was not without 
 his weakness he loved to hear his own praise. 
 
 "Not that I mean to say a word against Mr. 
 Forbes ; we all know him to be cute, but we like 
 him none the worse for knowing which way his 
 head is put on." 
 
 " That's right." The words were accompanied by 
 a clink of glasses. 
 
 " Mr. Forbes has a duty to perform to his master, 
 and he performs that duty faithfully ; at the same 
 time, no one can say that he does not think of us 
 and sympathize with our wrongs ; and if he were 
 to walk into this room this very minute, we should 
 one and all extend to Mr. Forbes the right hand 
 of friendship." 
 
 Only two members had had time to murmur, 
 " That's right ! " when the door was slammed open, 
 and an old man came in head first, holding up 
 his hand for silence. 
 
 "Mates," said he solemnly, "there's been a bad 
 accident." 
 
 " Whose boat is't, old Ned ? " they all seemed to 
 ask together. 
 
 " Tisn't nobody's boat, my lads ; 'twas on the 
 land, not on the water." 
 
 "Fallen off the cliff?" queried the ready-minded 
 cobbler. 
 
TAVERN BABBLE. 21 
 
 " No shot by them poachers." 
 
 "Who, lad?" 
 
 " Him as I heard you name when I lifted sneck 
 Mr. Forbes!" 
 
 'Mr. Forbes!' 1 
 
 "Well, I never!" 
 
 " Poor man!" 
 
 "Say, old Ned ; is he dead ? " 
 
 " That remains to be seen ; you see, I was talking 
 to our policeman on the cliff edge, when who should 
 come running up but young Forbes ; ' Sergeant/ 
 says he, in a voice all of a tremble-like, ' my father 
 lias been shot by poachers in Firleby wood ; get 
 some men to carry him home while I go wait for 
 the doctor.' 
 
 "' Where does he lie, master?* 
 
 " ' Near the big chestnut tree, not far from the 
 road ; but I'll be after you before you get there.' 
 
 " And with that he made off to the doctor's and 
 I came straight away and told you, mates." 
 
 There was a long silence ; the news had shocked 
 them more than they liked to let it appear. 
 
 Then, one by one, they got up and silently went 
 out ; one by one, they each went home to tell the 
 news ; and, shortly after, they might have been seen 
 creeping up the sandy lane to Firleby wood-side. 
 
 Angus had called first at the doctor's house, and 
 had been told that the doctor would be ready in 
 ten minutes ; he had only just returned from a long 
 round. He had inquired where the wound was, and 
 had seemed to think there was no great hurry. 
 
 Angus was now going back to call for him ; but 
 on his way he looked in at a small house that stood 
 in its own little garden. He hardly tapped before 
 lifting the latch ; in the front parlour a bright fire 
 was blazing, before which sat a young girl with 
 coal-black hair and fine dark eyes ; a tall man was 
 
22 VELVETEENS. 
 
 standing by the chimney, reading a hymn aloud, 
 or rather crooning it over softly to himself. 
 
 "John Fletcher, may I have a word with you 
 outside ? " 
 
 The girl had turned round on hearing the voice, 
 and perceiving by the deadly pallor on the face 
 of Angus that something was wrong, had jumped 
 up and followed her brother to the door. 
 
 "It's bad news I bring, John, and I would not 
 fright Minnie." 
 
 "Minnie, my lass, dost hear what Angus 
 Forbes says ? " 
 
 " Let him tell it in my presence ; he has asked 
 me before now to bear half his sorrows if it be 
 a sorrow, and I am always ready to do that, if I 
 won't go any further. 11 
 
 " Thank you, Minnie ; but indeed it is a sorrow, 
 and the heaviest a man can bear. It's my poor 
 father who lies up yonder in Firleby wood, shot 
 by a dog of a poacher." 
 
 Minnie pressed the young keeper's arm. That 
 was all he had come for : that bit of feeling gave 
 him fresh pluck to do his duty. 
 
 "Good night, friends. I thought I must call 
 and tell you. I am going for the doctor now." 
 
 " Stop ! I'll go with thee," said John, putting on 
 his cap. 
 
 The girl went and sat down by the fire. The tears 
 were flowing down her cheeks : she was following 
 Angus in fancy. Let her be. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MINNIE FLETCHER. 
 
 FLETCHER sat a long while 
 
 gazing into the fire. The simmering 
 and purring of the kettle produced 
 upon her gradually a feeling of calm 
 and peace ; it seemed to be whispering 
 to her in a soft and confidential undertone, " Don't 
 you be cast down, Minnie ; you have your pretty face 
 and saucy tongue, two lovers avowed, and half the 
 parish ready to bid for you at a chance ; don't take on 
 like that. Who knows ? haply young Angus Forbes 
 will get his father's place, and how will you like 
 living up at the lodge yonder ? " But when that 
 thought crossed Minnie's mind, she shuddered. It 
 was a brutal, selfish idea, and one to be scuffed out 
 of the place of thought. 
 
 Angus loved her, no doubt ; he was a fine, shapely 
 young man. He had a sweet smile, a pleasant clean 
 face, a musical voice, with just a touch of Scotch 
 intonation in it that always seemed to Minnie 
 like a revelation when she listened to it. Here was 
 a music that always surprised her ; when every- 
 body else dropped his voice to a murmur or a 
 whine, here was this northern peasant actually 
 
24 VELVETEENS. 
 
 chanting a syllable here and there in some quaint, 
 forgotten key. She could sit and listen to the 
 music of it without heeding the sense. 
 
 But then, there were other things to be thought on. 
 
 The Forbes family were strangers ; they had no 
 part nor lot in Beckthorp ; and it displeased all her 
 family that she should marry a foreigner. Well, 
 as to the family, she had lost her father at sea, 
 years ago ; and her mother died when her little 
 brother was born. But there was John, her elder 
 brother, and Aunt Bessie (if she was to be counted, 
 being not quite right in her mind, on one sad 
 point), and the rest of the parish of Nether Beck- 
 thorp, who were her cousins, one and all. 
 
 A girl cannot lightly fly in the face of public 
 opinion. True, there \vas nothing to be said against 
 Angus ; he was sober, hard-working, conscientious, 
 and, as she thought, religious. Not, perhaps, carry- 
 ing his religion on his lips as so many of her 
 people were wont to do ; but, then, you ' can't 
 expect landsmen to have so vivid a feeling of the 
 presence of God as the sailor who commits his 
 life twice a day, perhaps, to the perils of the deep 
 and the merciful protection of the Almighty. 
 
 Then there was her other lover, Giles Fletcher. 
 Such a nice young man he was! When you saw 
 him on Sundays, and he was wearing his dark blue 
 serge guernsey and his sealskin cap, he looked 
 quite bewitching. To Minnie's eye there seemed 
 to be so much more colour in his face than in 
 Angus Forbes's. Angus's very light hair and very 
 light blue eyes were well enough, no doubt: but 
 when Giles looked at you with those soft brown 
 eyes you felt there was something to look at ; they 
 made a warm feeling about Minnie's heart. Then, 
 Giles had beautiful patches of rose-red colour in his 
 dimpled cheeks, whereas Angus was more of the 
 
MINNIE FLETCHER. 25 
 
 brick-dust tint, and he was also freckled. Yet 
 Minnie sighed as she said it to herself Giles was 
 not over steady ; he was so impetuous and head- 
 strong, so proud and wilful, that even the Squire had 
 no control over him. 
 
 'Often and often, when a little boy, he had cut 
 chapel service, to get birds' eggs ; lately he had 
 gone out in his boat on the Sabbath, to the horror 
 of all pious folk, who looked for nothing better than 
 to find his drowned corpse at low water. But 
 Providence apparently was reserving him for some 
 other fate. 
 
 Poor Minnie ! it was evident that her heart said 
 " Marry Giles," while her common sense whispered, 
 " Thou fool, marry Angus." The question she was 
 debating just now before the fire was, " Ought a good 
 girl to wed the man she fancies best, or the man 
 she thinks will make her the best husband ? " 
 
 The stories she had read in fiction had taught 
 her to prefer love as an unerring instinct, a God- 
 given passion of perfection ; but the stories she had 
 seen enacted in real life had taught her something 
 very different. When she considered the short, one- 
 volume histories of her kinsfolks and acquaintances, 
 mostly tragedies, though many were yet "to be 
 continued," and the issue was not yet known 
 as being likely to have a happy ending or no, 
 when she ran over these living examples of 
 life, she could not help confessing to herself that 
 love was often blind ; that those who married out of 
 a girlish and boyish fancy for each other soon 
 began to weary of one another's company, if they 
 did not actually quarrel ; that it seemed better to 
 choose a man for some quality which would last, 
 which would perhaps improve instead of vanishing 
 away for a quality which might help to make the 
 woman a better wife as well as more comfortable, 
 
26 VELVETEENS. 
 
 Heigho ! she sighed again, when she got thus far, 
 and her little saucy face, with nose tip-tilted for 
 very scorn at her baser self, was just being thrown 
 back as she folded her bare arms behind her head, 
 when the door quietly opened and a young fisher- 
 man peeped in. 
 
 "May I come in, Minnie Fletcher?" 
 
 "Oh, Giles! how you have startled me, to be 
 sure!" 
 
 " Sorry for that, lassie ; there was a time when 
 Giles had a welcome in this house." The boy had 
 thrown all his utmost reproach into the tones of 
 this speech. 
 
 "And so you have now, Cousin Giles; come 
 in, and sit you down." 
 
 Giles took off his cap, and seated himself on a 
 chair by the side of the girl whom he was courting. 
 
 " Well, you look very sad and glum, cousin," said 
 Minnie, with a provoking smile; "perhaps it's the 
 bad news you've heard." 
 
 "Perhaps it is, Minnie; I saw young Forbes 
 come along here this evening. I expect he felt 
 bound to tell you first." 
 
 " So you were jealous, silly boy ? Well, perhaps 
 you've cause to be jealous ; for you know well 
 enough he'd be fine and glad to get me for his 
 wife." 
 
 "Yes, and folk do say that you are turning your 
 back on your own kith and kin to run after a 
 foreigner." 
 
 "Oh, folk say I run after him, do they?" 
 Minnie's dark eyes had a dangerous fire in them 
 just now. She went on bitterly : " Folk always 
 think they know other people's business best, 
 but you can go and tell the poor, silly folk that 
 if one's own kith and kin are not dependable, 
 one had better trust to strangers." 
 
MINNIE FLETCHER. 2? 
 
 "What dost mean by dependable?" said Giles, 
 colouring slightly. 
 
 " Why, look here, Giles ; the long and the short 
 is that if I could trust you, I'd rather a deal have 
 you for my husband." 
 
 " Well ? " said Giles, kicking a coal in the grate 
 nervously. 
 
 " I cannot trust you, Giles Fletcher ; as like as not, 
 after we had been married two years or less, you 
 would be off to America, or somewhere, and I 
 should be left crying.' 1 
 
 "Nonsense, Minnie; you know well enough that 
 my love is no ordinary love. I don't want to seem 
 to praise myself, but I have always felt that I was a 
 bit above the general run of Beck thorp chaps. I 
 foci something in me that tells me I can rise in the 
 world and I will." 
 
 Minnie laughed a little scornful laugh. 
 
 "My poor lad, before you talk of beating your 
 neighbours, you must try and conquer yourself; 
 you're not your own master ! " 
 
 " Not my own master ! then who is, I'd like to 
 know ? " 
 
 " Your evil passions, Giles. Oh, believe me ; if 
 you don't first learn to govern them, they'll make 
 a slave of you." 
 
 " I don't know what you're a-talking about," he 
 said sulkily. 
 
 "Oh yes, you do; but I'll put it this way. A 
 year ago you and I had a serious talk together 
 do you mind it ? We was sitting on the heather 
 yonder, one Sunday afternoon that day you kissed 
 me, and I slapped your face you must remember ? " 
 
 " Aye, lass ; you fetched me a good un. I'm 
 not going to forget it." 
 
 " Well ; then I rounded on you for going to the 
 public-house, and for rowing about with all the 
 
28 VELVETEENS. 
 
 good-for-nothings, and for poaching over the Squire's 
 land. Now, mind me, Giles Fletcher, you caught 
 hold of my hand and swore you would give up all 
 those things for the great love you bare me. Dost 
 mind that, lad ? " 
 
 " Yes, and I meant it, and I have tried you don't 
 know." 
 
 " Well, if you've tried, I am very sorry for your 
 ill success. I believed, at first, that you would give 
 up your old pals because of your love for me 
 no ordinary love, I believed it to be. But I was 
 sadly taken in, Giles : you have been seen on 
 Saturday night the worse for liquor ; you think 
 nothing of swearing, and breaking the Sabbath, and 
 stealing the Squire's game ; and yet you come and 
 ask me to trust you with my life, my honour, my 
 happiness ! " 
 
 "You should not believe all the lying tales you 
 hear about me, Minnie Fletcher. I deny that any 
 one has seen me drunk. I don't swear, as a rule ; 
 and, if I did, it means nothing it's only a word 
 more or less just to give weight. As to breaking 
 the Sabbath, I'm not a Jew ; if the good folk in 
 the Bible might break it, I don't see why I may not- 
 going out in a boat is very like going for a walk/' 
 
 " Oh, you know it shocks the religious feelings of 
 all your friends." 
 
 " Then I'm sorry for their common sense. Then 
 there's the poaching, as it is called why, bless your 
 heart ! I do that on principle. No, don't laugh ; 
 I'm serious. Landlords have no right to breed a lot 
 of wild animals that come and eat up other folks' 
 corn. Why, if I was to keep young tigers and they 
 was to get amongst the Squire's sheep, what a fuss 
 there would be! Chaps would come down from 
 London and get it all put in the daily papers. 
 But my tigers would only be doing the very same 
 
MINNIE FLETCHER. ^9 
 
 thing as the landlord's pheasants and hares do. 
 That's why I go and shoot the creatures, as a pro- 
 test against a wicked wrong to the poor man." 
 
 Minnie turned a roguish look upon him, and 
 asked, "You don't eat the hares when you have 
 caught them, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Not often ; I generally give them away. I don't 
 see any harm in that : the creatures are wild ; every 
 Englishman has a right to 
 
 " There ; that'll do, Cousin Giles. You are a 
 clever boy, but I doubt your fine ideas will 
 bring you some day into trouble. Anyhow, I 
 can't help distrusting them and you so long as 
 you go on like that. Drop my hand, sir ! I have 
 given you a year of trial, and you go on in your 
 old ways, drop my hand, please." 
 
 "Oh, Minnie darling, has it come to this? I do 
 indeed love you more than anything else in this 
 world. I did not know you cared so much for these 
 these faults of mine. But now I see you do, I 
 swear most solemnly I will turn over a new leaf, if 
 you will give me one more chance. Come, dearest ! " 
 
 What could the poor girl do ? She loved her 
 cousin ; perhaps she might rescue him from a sinful 
 life. It was this thought more than anything else 
 which made her offer no resistance when he put his 
 arm about her waist and promised oh, so faithfully 
 that he would give up his old evil associates and 
 amend his ways. 
 
 And the kiss that he left upon her half-averted 
 cheek was, as it were, an earnest of his good in- 
 tentions. 
 
 And poor Angus ! Would it not have added a 
 terrible weight to his already over-burdened heart, 
 as he helped to carry his dead father home that 
 night, if he could have seen the girl he loved so 
 well half pledging herself to his rival ? But it is 
 
30 VELVETEENS. 
 
 well for us that we cannot see through brick 
 walls ; it is well for us that we cannot always 
 read the thoughts of our neighbours. Enough for 
 us is the burden of the day, as God has ordered it. 
 The sorrow of Angus and of Jean was enough for 
 one evening. Let the door of the lodge close 
 on them in their anguish ; we have no business 
 prying about into those mysteries of human 
 suffering. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE HALL AND THE CLUB. 
 
 =^tf T was not until eight o'clock that evening 
 that the sad news of the head keeper's 
 death reached the Hall. The Squire, a 
 hale old man, with weather-beaten face, 
 was discussing with his son the arrange- 
 ments for the morrow's shooting. The room in which 
 they sat was very small, but comfortable lounges 
 made it a snug smoking-room ; from the walls were 
 suspended antlers and models of salmon life-size, 
 one or two Indian knives, a sheaf of poisoned 
 arrows from the Pacific, and two very bright double- 
 barrelled guns, of a make long gone out of use. 
 Master Aubrey, the son and heir, was rather short ; 
 but his collars were high enough to make him hold 
 himself at his best they acted like a bearing-rein 
 upon him. Some people in the village said that 
 Master Aubrey always appeared to be standing 
 on tip-toe, as if he was trying to look over the 
 garden wall. No doubt he was annoyed at being 
 so short ; but the good folk would not have thought 
 any ill of him for that. Only, unfortunately, his 
 answers were every bit as short as his legs, and 
 
$i VELVETEENS. 
 
 this set up the backs of tenants and labourers 
 alike. 
 
 Master Aubrey had reddish hair, and not too 
 much of it. His age was twenty-seven. He had a 
 good eye for billiards and shooting; he attended 
 race meetings, and only betted on very safe events. 
 People wondered how it was that the Squire's son 
 should be so haughty and irritable, when his father 
 was so "uncommon nice." I suppose he had had 
 his own way too much no one liked to oppose 
 or contradict him ; and now very few had the 
 courage. 
 
 Well, father and son, both dressed for dinner, 
 were having a few minutes of private chat about 
 the partridges and the gentlemen who had come 
 down to shoot the partridges ; they were arranging 
 who should have the best ground, and where they 
 would have lunch taken. 
 
 " Never mind, Aubrey ; it's not worth while to 
 get hot about so small a point as that. As I said 
 before, I am expecting Forbes every minute. I 
 told him to look in before dinner." 
 
 " Forbes is much too independent, father ; you 
 don't keep him in his place. Now, I'll bet you a 
 crown he won't be here till we have finished dinner. 
 Oh, here comes Brooks." 
 
 Brooks, the butler, entered with a solemn face. 
 
 "Well, Brooks," said the Squire's son, "what is 
 it? Forbes got the toothache? Can't come out 
 to-night, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; he can't come out indeed ! " said the 
 butler, with a sigh. 
 
 " There ! I told you so, father. This is past bear- 
 ing. Can't come out, can't he ? Just present my com- 
 pliments to Mr. Forbes, and say we really cannot 
 do without him." 
 
 Brooks seemed to take no notice of this remark, 
 
THE HALL AND THE CLUB. 33 
 
 but advanced into the room and muttered something 
 into the Squire's ear. 
 
 " Dead ? Who's dead ? " asked the Squire, putting 
 his hand to his ear. 
 
 "The head keeper, sir, was found dead in one 
 of the woods to-night." 
 
 Neither of the gentlemen spoke ; the news was 
 so strange and unexpected that it robbed them of 
 speech. 
 
 "Was it a fit, Brooks?" said the old Squire, a 
 tear glistening in his eye. 
 
 " No, sir ; he was shot in the back of the head by 
 a poacher." 
 
 " Who brought the news ? Is his son here ? " 
 
 "In the pantry, sir, at this minute. The poor 
 young man's very down about it, very much 
 so." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! poor fellow ! I should like to see 
 him, Brooks, for a few minutes. Ask him to come 
 this way." 
 
 When the butler had gone, the Squire turned to 
 his son, saying 
 
 "I should very much like to see the poor lad 
 alone, Aubrey. We ought to spare his feelings as 
 much as we can, you know." 
 
 " All right ; but of course we can't put off to- 
 morrow's sport ? " 
 
 " I suppose not ; don't say anything to our guests 
 about this ; we cannot well disappoint them, 
 Aubrey." 
 
 When Angus came into the smoking-room, he 
 found the Squire alone, leaning his head upon his 
 hand as he stood by the fireplace. 
 
 The old gentleman stepped forward, and took 
 Angus by the hand. 
 
 " My lad, you have met a great sorrow early in 
 life ; bear it manfully. Your father and I have been 
 
 D 
 
34 VELVETEENS. 
 
 old friends together these twenty years. You must 
 let me be your father now." 
 
 These kind words were too much for Angus ; he 
 was quite overcome for a minute or two ; then, 
 with an effort, he said 
 
 " You have always been the kindest of masters to 
 us. I will tell my sister what you have been so good, 
 sir, as to say ; and I'm sure it is a real comfort, 
 when one is in trouble, to find such true sympathy." 
 
 " Now, tell me, Angus ; have you any idea who 
 it was ? How many were there poaching, and 
 where was it ? " 
 
 " It was in Firleby wood bottom, near the lower 
 road. Father and I were at tea when my young 
 brother came in to say there were poachers about. 
 We set off at once, taking some men with us ; we 
 had not been in the wood a quarter of an hour 
 when I heard a shot fired ; I had the mastiff bitch 
 with me, and she found my poor father lying in the 
 bracken, stone-dead." 
 
 "Ha! the mastiff! could not some of you have 
 followed on the scent ? " 
 
 "Well, sir, I had lost touch with the others, and 
 while I was looking after father the bitch made off." 
 
 "She would not go away for nothing. I have 
 known a dog of her breed track a man down. She 
 must be followed at once ; and telegrams must be 
 sent to villages and stations round, that the police 
 may be on the look-out. I think, if I write out the 
 forms, you might take them. There's nothing like 
 having something to do for curing the heart-ache." 
 
 When the Squire had written out his telegrams, 
 Angus said 
 
 " I ought to mention, sir, that, when I returned to 
 the wood with the doctor and the policeman, we 
 found in the bracken a shortened ram-rod. - I've 
 got it up at the lodge." 
 
?HE HALL AND THE CLUB. 35 
 
 "Ah! that's very important that may give us 
 a clue. I hope there is no suspicion falling on 
 any of our own people." 
 
 " No, sir ; we found our own people all at home. 
 The Vicar has been round with the policeman. It's 
 more likely to be some riff-raff from the big towns ; 
 they'll fire at anybody as soon as at a rabbit. I 
 don't think anybody here would want to hurt my 
 father." 
 
 "No, I am sure of that, Angus. Well, good 
 evening to you ; and oh, I say we can do very 
 well without you to-morrow. You must not think 
 of doing any work to-morrow." 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; but I'm very sorry to put you 
 out so." 
 
 Thus Angus went away, gladdened a little by 
 that kindly sympathy. 
 
 Let us now look into the village club, and see 
 how they took the news of the keeper's murder. 
 
 The club had been started by the Squire some 
 ten years ago ; he had always refused to have a 
 public-house in his village, but when Mr. Fraser 
 came to be vicar he made so strong a point of 
 having a club-room, where the labourer could get 
 a snug seat by the fire and a cup of coffee, that at 
 last they knocked two cottages into one, and started 
 the village club-room. 
 
 After a time they made the experiment of keep- 
 ing beer on tap, having a bye-law that no one was 
 to be served with more than two glasses of beer 
 in one evening. At the present time that amount 
 had been raised to three glasses. 
 
 No ill effects had followed ; though the Miss 
 Browns, who were worthy spinsters and teetotallers, 
 had prophesied that the admission of a beer-barrel 
 would be the ruin of the whole country. The 
 Vicar was one of those ruddy-faced, hearty men 
 
36 VELVETEENS. 
 
 who do not seek to restrict a parishioner so long 
 as the man can drink within limits ; though, when 
 he was a curate in a large town, he had taken the 
 pledge to encourage those drunkards who could 
 not be kept sober except by total abstention. 
 
 At one end of the room was the table where tea, 
 coffee, and eatables could be had ; little tables 
 scattered about served as centres for groups of 
 talkers ; there were seats for old folk by the fire, 
 papers and magazines at the end table. There was 
 a ladies' room, where no smoking was allowed ; a 
 good kitchen and scullery, and a small room for 
 bagatelle and other games. To-night the room was 
 very full ; the sad news had fetched everybody out 
 to hear and discuss the latest intelligence. They 
 came in very quietly, and seemed awe-struck at the 
 blow which had fallen upon the village. 
 
 About nine o'clock there entered, somewhat to 
 the surprise of the members, a young gentleman of 
 pleasant look and manners, apparently not more than 
 eighteen years old. He called for a cup of coffee, 
 observing that the Squire had invited him to look 
 in at the club ; then, as he was casting his eye 
 around, noticing how dumb the members had become 
 at his presence, he lifted his cap, and said in a 
 clear voice 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen, I ought to apologize 
 for intruding where I have no right to come ; but 
 I was telling your good Squire to-night how much 
 I am interested in these clubs, and he said at once, 
 i Go down and have a cup of coffee with them, and 
 see for yourself,' and so, here I am." 
 
 This short speech was received with a hum of 
 applause and clinking of spoons, and many a one 
 said to his neighbour, " Him's the right sort," " Bless 
 his bonny face ! how nice he do speak, to be sure." 
 
 The visitor sat down ; and, of course, Harry Bent, 
 
THE HALL AND THE CLUB. 37 
 
 the radical cobbler, soon got near him. There's 
 nobody likes talking to his superiors more than 
 your radical and your revolutionist. 
 
 " Good evening, sir ; you come at a melancholy 
 time." 
 
 "Yes, we have been talking about it up at the 
 Hall ; the Squire tried to keep it from us, but the 
 very doors and tables were creaking with the news. 
 He was liked, I think ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ; when they brought his body past here, 
 all the club turned out and followed as far as the 
 keeper's lodge." 
 
 " Are there any poachers in the village ? " 
 
 This was an unfortunate question ; for, although 
 Harry Bent was no poacher, yet he had been known 
 not unfrequently to sally forth when good folk were 
 in their beds, carrying with him certain snares and 
 a nice half-bred dog ; they say that he also kept a 
 gun hidden behind a manure-heap, and that his 
 pockets bulged in the early hours when he trudged 
 home. He coloured just a little as he replied 
 
 " We be all honest folks hereabouts, master ; 
 though we prefer the old sport to the new. When 
 the master walked his birds up among the turnips, 
 there was less nibbling of poor men's peas and 
 spinage. I don't hold with this new-fangled battew, 
 or what you call it." 
 
 " No, nor I ; but at present I'm only a boy at 
 school, and have had little experience of country 
 life." 
 
 "Indeed, sir? Pray, are you intended for a 
 country squire ? " 
 
 " I believe so ; unless I go into the army. But 
 it seems to me that there is so much to be done 
 now in improving village life, that it is our duty 
 to tackle that knotty problem." 
 
 "Sir, I am delighted to find a young gentleman 
 
38 VELVETEENS. 
 
 who has such fine sentiments ; hope you'll live up 
 to them, sir, no offence intended, you know ; but 
 pleasure comes in and ousts duty, doesn't it ? I 
 dare say, now, you have been reading the letters 
 in the papers about village life ? " 
 
 "Yes, and Professor Fawcett's book on the posi- 
 tion of the labourer." 
 
 " Well done, sir ; that's better than learning Latin 
 and Greek, ain't it? Now I'll give you a lesson 
 from real life. Hi ! Adam, old Adam, come and tell 
 us about what you think of life in these 'ere parts." 
 
 Old Adam grinned, and scratched his head ; it 
 was rather a large order for him. The stranger shook 
 hands with him, saying 
 
 "Do you find field-work worth having in these 
 times ? " 
 
 "Well, sir, I'm good for nowt else, 'cep' the 
 work'us." 
 
 " Dear me ! Haven't you saved anything yet in 
 all these years ? " 
 
 " Saved anything ? Harry, what do 'e mean ? " 
 
 " Put by owt, Adam, -'gainst a rainy day." 
 
 Adam sat back and laughed till he coughed, 
 the ideat)f saving money was too ludicrous ; they 
 really must not be so funny ! 
 
 " Lord love you, sir ! Saved owt ? Well, that's a 
 good un. I've had ten children : seven girls went 
 out to service, one son got hisself sawed in two in 
 a saw-mill, t'other two went to London or some- 
 wheres, and got work on the railway. There hasn't 
 been no sulky ones in my family a heating their 
 heads off ; but yet I hasn't put by a penny. Well, 
 yer see, when I was young we got perhaps twelve 
 shilling a week, with stoppages for rainy days ; 
 we had no 'lotments i' those days." 
 
 " I suppose you find them a great help ? " 
 
 " The young men do, sir : but they rob a man of 
 
THE HALL AND THE CLUB. 39 
 
 a good deal of his rest ; it's everlasting slave and 
 worry. When you've been at work ever since five 
 i 5 the morning, you don't feel werry fit for the 
 'lotment. Nor you can't be i' two places i' the same 
 time ; but just when your master wants you most, 
 you wants to be at your own piece of ground ; and 
 werry often the 'lotment is too far from yer house, 
 and the walking takes it out of 'e worse nor the 
 work does." 
 
 " I see/' said the boy, looking disappointed. 
 
 "This parish, sir," said the cobbler, "is quite a 
 model one ; yet we can't keep the young uns : they 
 all leave us as fast as they can. Why do they? 
 because they can get better pay near the big 
 towns. What is there to keep 'em here ? No pretty 
 girls all out at service, no theatres or concerts, 
 no cottages if they do want to marry. I don't blame 
 them. Of course, they go where they can live in 
 comfort, where the water's fit to drink, and the thatch 
 is kept good on the roof, and where they can save 
 up a bit to end their days on. We country folks 
 doesn't like the idea of a work'us ending." 
 
 Mr. Bent would have gone on for another hour, 
 had not the arrival of the Squire and one of his 
 guests brought him to a full-stop. 
 
 The Squire went to the far end of the hall, and 
 made a little speech about the murder of the game- 
 keeper, and ended by asking everybody to help 
 him to bring the culprit to justice. He concluded 
 thus 
 
 "I see you have been entertaining my young 
 friend, Lord Haverden, who is deeply interested in 
 all that concerns our village life ; and I hope we 
 shall prevail upon him to spend a few weeks with 
 us. I am glad to see that Adam is sitting close to 
 his lordship to defend him against the revolutionary 
 doctrines of Mr. Bent." 
 
40 VELVETEENS. 
 
 There was much craning of necks and whispering 
 when Lord Haverden's name was announced ; and 
 when the visitors had left the club, old Adam said 
 
 " Now, who'd a thought it was a real live lord I was 
 a speaking to i' that how ? " 
 
 "Ay, boy," rejoined the radical, "but I slapped 
 him on the leg and I'm glad on't ; 'twill be some- 
 thing to talk about to the day of my death." 
 
CHAPTER VI, 
 
 AUNT BESSIE. 
 
 EVER had Beckthorp churchyard been 
 so full as that afternoon when Mr. 
 Forbes was put in his grave. Of course 
 all the Squire's people were there ; but 
 many young farmers had driven in to pay 
 this last token of respect, and there was a large con- 
 tingent of fishermen and their wives, who made the 
 hymn which was sung at the funeral very impres- 
 sive ; for the fisher-folk were more musical than 
 the agricultural labourers. And as yet suspicion had 
 not fallen on any one in Beckthorp ; half the parish 
 had gone to see the ram-rod, which now hung in 
 the lodge, by permission of the Squire. The 
 mastiff, too, came in for a share of attention ; for 
 she had come home late on that eventful night, with 
 drops of blood about her muzzle and chest, and a 
 nasty stab in the shoulder. Even the visitors who 
 were staying at Nether Beckthorp for the bathing 
 got interested in the mystery, and more than one 
 of them assumed the character of amateur detec- 
 tive, hunting the woods about for traces of gun 
 or knife, much to the annoyance of the shooting 
 party. 
 
42 VELVETEENS. 
 
 A few days after the funeral a coal-barge was 
 seen to anchor off the village ; about three o'clock 
 in the afternoon a small boat put off for shore. 
 The street from Beckthorp to Nether Beckthorp 
 ended abruptly at the cliff edge ; a low wall pre- 
 vented you driving down on to the stones and 
 breaking your neck ; but if you wished to walk 
 to the shore, there was a narrow, winding path by 
 which you could descend. 
 
 At the top of the cliff there was a wooden seat, 
 whence you could look out over the sea ; this 
 was a favourite lounge for the old salts and for 
 visitors who wanted to talk to the natives. 
 
 But this afternoon there were some children, look- 
 ing rather scared and clinging to their nursemaids' 
 skirts, as a well-dressed woman of about thirty-five 
 years passed quickly and restlessly to and fro. She 
 was tall and thin, and had raven-black hair and 
 black eyes with red circles round them ; it was a 
 face that must have once been beautiful, but suffer- 
 ing had marred and scarred it out of all recogni- 
 tion. There was something very awesome in her 
 fierce, hungry eyes, and in the low mutterings 
 to which she gave vent. 
 
 " She is talking to herself. What does she say ? " 
 said one child. 
 
 "She goes backwards and forwards like the- tiger 
 in the Zoo/' said another. 
 
 The nursemaids looked for enlightenment to the 
 four or five fishermen who stood about, calmly 
 smoking and taking no heed. 
 
 " Who is yon woman ? " at length one ventured 
 to ask. 
 
 The old man drew his pipe slowly out of his 
 mouth, and said 
 
 "We calls her Aunt Bessie." 
 
 A little group of children began to gather round 
 the fisherman. 
 
AUNT BESSIE. 43 
 
 ; "You see/' he began, pressing down the baccy 
 affectionately into the bowl of his pipe with the 
 thumb of his left hand, "she is not quite herself 
 to-day, poor thing." 
 
 " Why not ? why not ? What is the matter with 
 her?" ' 
 
 "It's all along o' that there smack, miss." 
 
 " Lor 1 ! who's been a-smacking on her ? " 
 
 " Bah ! you don't take me properly ; 'tain't no 
 smack she's had. Haven't you seen her sitting 
 here every afternoon from two till near five, as 
 quiet as a mouse ? " 
 
 " Yes ; gazing out over the sea and knitting, 
 knitting, knitting." 
 
 "That's it and waiting, waiting, waiting," 
 said the sailor ; " but to-day she sees that there 
 wessel, and she's excited, ain't she ? " 
 
 " Tell us all about it, please." 
 
 "Tain't much of a yarn, young ladies; how- 
 somever, that young woman was twenty years back 
 the prettiest girl in the place, and there's heaps 
 on 'em wanted to marry her. But no ! there wasn't 
 nobody good enough for she ; they got nowt but 
 snubs for their pains, I reckon. Till, one day, 
 a young man as had a farm up country came and 
 took lodgings for the summer in her house, got a 
 fancy for her, courted her, and well, they were 
 spliced that September in Beckthorp Church." 
 
 The old man took a few meditative whiffs, and 
 resumed 
 
 "The bridegroom took a fancy to a row in one 
 of them small boats in the afternoon ; he went by 
 hisself, and left his wife in the house, packing up 
 of her things for to go to her new home. It was 
 about equinox time, I reckon, and the sky had 
 a wild look little bits o' cloud scudding across, 
 a film forming over the blue," 
 
44 VELVETEENS. 
 
 Here he took a few more whiffs and looked across 
 the sea. 
 
 "Aye, it were John Fletcher he says, 'Look 
 here, lad ; don't you go out fur, or you'll get blowed 
 away.' 
 
 " ' All right, old chap,' says bridegroom, ' I knows 
 summut about boats by this time ; tell Bessie to have 
 a cup o' tea ready by I come back, will yer ? ' 
 
 " So he paddled away. Water was calm and clear ; 
 I mind it as though it were but yesterday. The 
 poor young man pushed off, with a crowd of young 
 lads making fun of him, and shouting, 'Where's 
 your bride, lad ? You've forgotten Miss Bessie. 1 
 
 "And he, as blithe as you like, took off his hat and 
 waved it i' the air, singing a jolly good song the 
 while. Ah ! he was a hearty young man he was. 
 Well, he rowed out to sea, stopping now and again 
 to peer down into the clear water, and, maybe, 
 admire the seaweed and the shells they look very 
 pretty, miss, all tangled about the white rocks at 
 bottom. O Lord ! how Aunt Bessie do excite 
 herself now she sees the boat ashore." 
 
 The listeners turned to look ; there was the poor 
 woman waving a white pocket-handkerchief with 
 frantic gestures from the cliff. She finished by run- 
 ning down the path to the beach. 
 
 " Ah, poor thing ! will nothing teach you 'tis no 
 manner of use ? Where was I in my yarn ? Let's 
 see ! Oh ! ah ! And then a gust of wind came 
 clap ! the water turned all dark in a moment ; the 
 wind caught the boat like a mill-stream with a 
 feather, and in five minutes he had gone out of 
 sight ; for it came on all dark. We got out some of 
 our boats and sailed backwards and forwards, but 
 to this day neither he nor his boat have been seen 
 again. What, miss ? how long ago ? A deal over ten 
 year, aye, fifteen year it must be. And every after- 
 
AUNT BESSIE. 45 
 
 noon in the year, since then, has that poor, silly 
 creetur been down to the town-end to gaze over 
 the sea for her husband. She allers puts on her 
 wedding-dress, in case he should come ; but, as 
 you see, whenever there's any vessel in the offing, 
 or any strange boat comes ashore, she's that mad 
 with hope and fear that she ramps about and talks 
 to hersen, and there's no holding her at all- 
 poor creetur ! " 
 
 At this moment they saw Aunt Bessie approach 
 the group of men who were surrounding the small 
 boat. Almost immediately afterwards she turned to 
 come back, holding her head down. When she got 
 nearer they could hear her sobbing sobbing, and 
 yet talking to herself. 
 
 " Oh, Harry, you said you would come back when 
 tea was ready ! too bad, too bad ! I've prayed and 
 prayed till my knees were sore. What does God 
 care for a poor woman like me ? He will drive 
 me mad one of these days. Harry ! Harry ! 
 Harry ! " 
 
 The last three cries were so heartrending that the 
 children ran away, and the nursemaids wept ; but 
 the old sailor smoked on calmly, and when Aunt 
 Bessie passed him, he said 
 
 " I'm afraid he's not come to-day, Bessie ? " 
 
 " No ; but he will he shall he shall come ! " she 
 screamed in a fierce tone, with flashing eyes, 
 causing such a sensation among the visitors that 
 the little boys flocked about her, like hounds about 
 a wounded lioness. 
 
 However, one of the fishermen moved them back, 
 and walked with her up the street till she reached 
 her home. 
 
 They would not have had Aunt Bessie put to 
 shame by the visitors for many golden sovereigns. 
 She embodied one little life-tragedy amongst them, 
 
46 VELVETEENS. 
 
 of which they had plenty more in their hearts : but 
 she was a walking memorial of a kindred sorrow ; 
 her weakness had become to them something almost 
 sacred. 
 
 Minnie Fletcher was sitting at the tea-table when 
 she entered. 
 
 " One more day gone, and he hasn't come ! " 
 said the poor bride with quivering lip. 
 
 Minnie kissed her hand, and, touching her fore- 
 head, said 
 
 " How hot your head is to-day. Has there been 
 a boat ashore ? " 
 
 " Yes another boat ; and he ' But she burst 
 into a passion of sobs. 
 
 " There, there, darling ! do try to cry ; your tears 
 will relieve your head. Take off your bonnet so. 
 Now let me pour you out a cup of tea." 
 
 Aunt Bessie grew calmer, sipped her tea in silence, 
 till she put out her hand, and said 
 
 "Minnie, never marry a man who lives by the 
 sea ; it's the cruelest of all God's creatures." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 JEAN FORBES HAS VISITORS. 
 
 JEAN was setting the tea-things on the 
 table a day or two after the disappoint- 
 ment of Aunt Bessie ; the dresser was 
 full of cartridges, which she had been 
 refilling ; there was also a stuffed owl 
 being set up by her nimble hands, and, at the same 
 time, she had been giving an occasional stir to some 
 savoury pottage that was simmering on a large 
 black pot upon the fire. 
 
 " May we come in, Miss Forbes ? " said a clear- 
 voiced girl at the door. 
 
 "Oh, Minnie Fletcher that's right, come in and 
 have a dish of tea. Ah, and Aunt Bessie too! 
 Very glad to see you both, neighbours. Come, 
 sit you down. It's getting chilly now, isn't it ? " 
 
 "It's always a pleasure to come here," said 
 Minnie ; " things look so clean and nice, and 
 there's such a lot of queer animals and things 
 to look at. What have you done with the stuffed 
 weasel that was running after the rabbit ? " 
 
 "A gentleman at the Hall has bought it. I'm 
 doing an owl now, It's not finished yet ; he is 
 going to pounce upon a poor little mouse when I've 
 
4& VELVETEENS. 
 
 time to attend to him. Well, Aunt Bessie, and 
 how do you keep ? " 
 
 " Pretty fair, in spite of great disappointments, 
 thank you." 
 
 "Ah, I've heard of your wonderful patience ! I'm 
 sure, if I were in your place, Aunt Bessie, I should 
 have given him up long ago." 
 
 "No, you wouldn't," said the other, fixing her 
 great black eyes upon Jean; "not if you saw the 
 visions I see o' times aye, and hear his voice, I 
 do, in the night time, as clear as a bell" 
 
 " Do you really, now ? And you still think he is 
 alive?" 
 
 It was useless for Minnie to make signs to Jean 
 to drop the subject. Jean was cutting and buttering 
 the bread all the time, and took no notice of 
 Minnie. 
 
 "I know he is alive I know it because he 
 talks to me. Poor Harry a long time it is since our 
 wedding-day. But he tells me to keep tea ready 
 for him ; and I do, don't I, Minnie ? " 
 
 "Yes, aunt; but you will make your head ache 
 if you talk so much, dear." 
 
 "Ah, for headache there is nothing so good as 
 the slough of a last year's snake. Here's a capital 
 one that Angus unravelled out of the grass 
 himself. Don't be frightened at it ; the skin of a 
 snake set in your hat like this is a certain 
 cure." 
 
 "If Angus found it, I think Minnie ought to 
 wear it," said Aunt Bessie, with a sly look at Jean. 
 
 " Yes," said Jean ; "he would be so happy if you 
 would take it" 
 
 " I don't think I ought to have it, Jean ; things 
 like that may do mischief I mean, I shouldn't like 
 your brother to think I was encouraging him. I've 
 not made up my mind at all." 
 
JEAN FORBES HAS VISITORS. 49 
 
 "I'm sorry to hear you say that, Minnie. My 
 brother worships the ground you tread on, 
 and I hoped you knew what a good fellow he is. 
 Good heart is better than fair face." 
 
 "So it is,' 1 said Aunt Bessie, "and (as I say 
 to Minnie) marry a man whose feet are fast on the 
 land ; it's weary work watching those cruel, crawling 
 waves. But Minnie is that headstrong ! " 
 
 " I can't be driven into marrying a man let 
 him be ever so respectable," said Minnie, tossing her 
 head rather defiantly. 
 
 "Of course not," said Jean ; "you want to choose 
 for yourself; and everybody knows best what they 
 choose a man for. It isn't everybody who cares to 
 have for husband a quiet, hard-working young man 
 like my brother there's tastes and there's tastes." 
 
 Jean could toss her head, too, when her family 
 honour was at stake. After this bit of fencing, there 
 was a long silence, only broken by the prolonged 
 sipping of hot tea. 
 
 " You've got a nice home here," said Aunt Bessie, 
 looking at the pretty stone window-settings and 
 the good oak beams. "In the winter-time one 
 might keep one's self here as warm as a dormouse." 
 
 " Yes," said Jean," and I'm sure it's a nice position 
 to be with so kind a gentleman as Squire Hervey ; he 
 treats all his men as if they were men like himself." 
 
 "Tis a pity he's got to die one day," said 
 Minnie. "If I were you, I should be always in a 
 quake for fear that young Snarler should come into 
 the property. Now, down at our place, we most of us 
 have our own houses, and nobody can turn us out." 
 
 " 'Deed ? and 'tis a hard life you have sometimes, 
 Minnie Fletcher." 
 
 " Aye, fishing is not what it was years ago ; 
 those Yarmouth smacks and the big Grimsby vessels 
 steam, some of 'em make a difference to us. Yet 
 
 E 
 
SO VELVETEENS. 
 
 we make a tidy harvest in the summer with letting 
 lodgings." 
 
 "Yes, as soon as you begin to sacrifice your 
 independence," said Jean, maliciously, "you make 
 some money ; but when you are stuck up with pride 
 and independence you starve." 
 
 " You ought to be a lawyer, Jean, your tongue is 
 so ready," said Minnie, laughing; "but I don't 
 blame you for standing up for your own brother." \ 
 
 Just then the door was opened, and little Willie 
 came in slowly. 
 
 "Bless the boy! what's he been doing?" said 
 Jean, seeing his swollen eyes. 
 
 "I've been bea beaten with a stick," sobbed 
 the lad. 
 
 " Eh ! and who has dared to lay a finger on 
 you, Willie?" 
 
 "Mister Aubrey licked me for for frightening 
 up some birds." 
 
 " But why did you fright them ? You ought not 
 to have got in the way." 
 
 "But he he he he told me to go across the 
 stubble; and I did my best, I'm sure. Take care ; 
 that arm's bad, Jean." 
 
 " Why, your fingers are all bleeding, my dear." 
 
 " Don't touch me ; I'm aching all over. He 
 wanted to give me half a crown, when the other 
 gentlemen cried ' Shame ' on him ; but I flung 
 it in the dirt." 
 
 Jean kissed him, saying, " My poor, wee bairn ! " 
 
 Minnie Fletcher said, "Well done, brave Scot- 
 land ! What's bred in the bone comes out, you see, 
 when it's wanted." 
 
 Jean with some trouble stripped the boy to his 
 waist, and all three women exclaimed aloud when 
 they saw the huge blue marks across his shoulders 
 and little arm, 
 
JEAN FORBES HAS VISITORS. 51 
 
 As Jean and Minnie busied themselves with 
 bathing the child, Aunt Bessie sat silent in her chair, 
 rocking herself nervously to and fro. At length she 
 said 
 
 " The little lad looks sadly ; put him to bed, 
 Jean Forbes, and I will go up to the Hall and 
 demand justice."' 
 
 "No, no, aunt," said Minnie, in a firm voice; 
 "it's no business of ours, and you might lose Mr. 
 Forbes his place. God knows my heart is stirred 
 at the sight of the little lad, and I would gladly 
 go with you if we could do any good." 
 
 " I think you had better leave it to my brother, 
 Aunt Bessie," said Jean. 
 
 Hardly was Willie got into bed, when some one 
 tapped at the door. Two young gentlemen entered, 
 one of them being the Lord Haverden who had 
 visited the village club. 
 
 ".Has your son returned, Mrs. Forbes ? " he asked. 
 
 "My little brother, sir, you mean," said Jean, 
 offering chairs. 
 
 As Minnie and Aunt Bessie rose to 'leave, Lord 
 Haverden said 
 
 " Pray don't move ; we have only come in for a 
 minute to see if the poor little fellow reached home 
 all right. I'm afraid he has been cruelly punished ? " 
 
 " He has been sorely bruised, sir," replied Jean, 
 " and I should be much obliged if you would step 
 this way and see for yourself. I don't know if 
 there be any bones broken." 
 
 The two gentlemen followed Jean into the bed- 
 room. 
 
 The two women remained in the front room ; 
 after a few minutes they heard one of the gentlemen 
 say 
 
 "Well, Willie, old chap, if that had been done at 
 my school, do you know what Mr. Aubrey would 
 have got f " 
 
52 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " No sir," said Willie, in a weak voice. 
 
 " Why, he would have had a monitor's whopping ; 
 that means, twelve of the biggest fellows in the 
 school would have given him a cut with their cane. 
 Well, as we are guests at the Hall, we could not do 
 that, but we let him know that he was a beastly 
 coward, didn't we, Haverden ? " 
 
 "We did," replied the other, rather absently; 
 and then, when his friend was coming out of the 
 bedroom, he stooped over the boy, and said 
 
 " I've got such a jolly knife for you six blades, 
 and I don't know what else besides. Would you 
 like to have it, Willie ? " 
 
 " Oh, sir, thank you ; what a beauty ! Jeannie, 
 come and see what the gentleman has given me." 
 
 After the knife had been well admired by all, 
 Lord Haverden held out in his hand a card, 
 saying 
 
 "Miss Forbes, I know all about your brother 
 and poor father, and if ever you should be in 
 want of a friend, just write to me, at that address, 
 and, if I'm alive, I will not be found wanting." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Jean, blushing and dropping 
 a graceful curtsey ; then giving another look at the 
 card, she hastily corrected herself, " Thank you very 
 much, my lord, for your kindness ; and you, too, 
 sir. Good night, gentlemen." 
 
 The three women examined the card and the 
 address with much interest and some mirth. 
 
 "It's another loss of independence," said Jean, 
 laughing. " I'll go and tell Willie who it was that 
 gave him the knife." 
 
 Presently she returned with her finger to her lip. 
 
 " Hark ! he sleeps already ; you can hear the poor 
 bairnie sobbing in his sleep." 
 
 Quietly the two callers said "Good-bye," and 
 quitted the keeper's lodge. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SOME CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 [T was about an hour later that Jean 
 heard her brother come in at the wicket 
 gate and put the dogs in their kennel. 
 Then, she could hear him give them 
 their supper, and help the beaters and 
 carriers to hang up the game in the safe at the 
 back of the lodge. 
 
 Presently she heard him bid them " Good night/' 
 and began to dish up his supper. It was dark out- 
 side, but the wood fire cast a ruddy, comfortable 
 glow on all within. 
 
 "So here you are at last, Angus! You're very 
 late the night." 
 
 " Rather late. Where's Willie ? " 
 " In bed, poor lad ; tell me about it as soon as 
 you've got your boots off, and washed your hands." 
 Angus stole to the boy's bedside and watched 
 him for some time ; when he returned to his supper, 
 Jean was sitting by the table, doing her knitting. 
 She began by explaining how Willie came home, 
 and how Lord Haverden and his friend called to 
 ask how her brother was, and how kind they both 
 
54 VELVETEENS. 
 
 had been. She did not allude to the card, though 
 she had put it carefully away in her writing-desk. 
 
 "Well, Jeannie," said Angus, as he helped 
 himself again, "I never felt more like knocking a 
 man down than I did when I saw Willie yonder 
 being thrashed by that bully. There was no reason 
 for it, neither. Mr. Aubrey himself had ordered 
 Willie to run across a corner of the field to tell 
 some of the beaters to move up ; and on his way he 
 roused a covey of birds too far off to shoot at. 
 When Willie came back to us, Mr. Aubrey seized 
 him by the collar, and shook him till he was red 
 in the face, calling him a little fool for going 
 through the stubble ; and when Willie replied, 
 ' You told me to ! ' then young master took up a 
 stick, and let into him with all his might, and 
 said, ' I'll teach you manners, you little devil ! ' " 
 
 " I promise you, Jean, it was only by thinking of 
 what would become of you if I struck him, that I 
 managed to restrain my anger. Luckily that plucky 
 Lord Haverden and Mr. Crosby came running 
 up ; and his lordship seized the stick, crying, 
 ' For shame ! Are you mad, Hervey ? ' Well, then 
 you should have seen young master's face ; his 
 eyes were like red-hot coal : but his young lord- 
 ship stood up to him he's only a boy at school, 
 they tell me, and he folded his arms across his 
 chest, and said, ' Strike me, you coward, if you like ; 
 but if you touch that little boy again, I'll let you 
 see what the champion light-weight at Harrow can 
 do/ But young master saw he had met his match, 
 and muttering, ' Don't be a fool, Haverden ! ' strode 
 off. 
 
 " I went to Willie, and felt him to see if there 
 were any bones broken, and then I told one of 
 the beaters to see him home. By the time we had 
 walked the stubble, Lord Haverden and his friend 
 
SOME CONSEQUENCES. 55 
 
 said to me, ' We've had enough of this, Forbes ; tell 
 Mr. Aubrey that we have gone home, will you ? ' 
 The other gentlemen knew nothing of what had 
 happened, and so we kept on all right. But as we 
 were coming home up the street, you know, past 
 the club, there was a pretty tidy lot of folk standing 
 about. Well, I couldn't say for certain who they 
 were, because it was beginning to get very dusky, 
 but there was a good few boys amongst them, and 
 some of them began calling out, ' Has he killed 
 Willie, Angus ? ' and some hissed. You may guess 
 it was not very pleasant for me, hearing my name 
 brought into it like that. * What's all this about, 
 Forbes ? ' one or two of the gentlemen said to me ; 
 but I shrugged my shoulders, and pretended not to 
 know. Well, it's the worst thing that ever could 
 have happened for us." 
 
 "Minnie Fletcher and her aunt were up here 
 when Willie came home. I dare say they went and 
 told it in the village." 
 
 "Minnie been here? Why didn't you say so 
 afore?" 
 
 "There were other things more important to 
 speak about." 
 
 "That's all you know about it, then, Jean. 
 I'm quite fond and foolish about that girl. And 
 she's been up to see me ? " 
 
 " No ; she's been to see me, silly. I wouldn't think 
 too much about her ; she doesn't seem to know her 
 own mind yet at all. There's a cousin of hers been 
 after her ever so long." 
 
 " Did she say anything about him or me ? " 
 
 "No; I think not. I don't know that I quite 
 like her, Angus. She's got that defiant air that 
 all the fisher-folk have. She seems to hold to her 
 own people as much as the rest of them. That 
 poor widow that they call ' Aunt Bessie ' came 
 
56 VELVETEENS. 
 
 with her, and almost scared me with her large, 
 black eyes ; but there's a sadness in them that 
 wins your love. I often think Minnie will look 
 like her when she's a bit older." 
 
 " Not yet, I hope ; that Aunt Bessie has as haggard 
 a face as a witch. I'm sure she sees more than 
 other human creatures can." 
 
 " So she says : she tells me she can both see 
 and hear her husband in the dead of night ; and 
 when she tells you anything, you're bound to 
 believe it, she looks so like a Jezebel no, I mean 
 a Deborah." 
 
 "Do you think Minnie would make a man a 
 good wife, Jean ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, I do ; else I shouldn't have cracked 
 you up to her face, as I did this evening. She'd 
 stick to you through thick and thin ; but if the 
 young master was Squire, and he began hectoring 
 about, she would lose you your place by her free 
 manners." 
 
 " Don't you think that defiant air, as you call it, 
 is the result of her independent position ? If she 
 was my wife, and felt that a free tongue would ruin 
 us, she would learn to curb it." 
 
 "But she sees all that, and thinks she is lower- 
 ing herself by getting into such a position." 
 
 Angus remained thoughtful for some time before 
 he said 
 
 " Dear father used to say, ' If ever you get out 
 of your place, and can't get one to suit you, go off 
 to New Zealand, or Canada, or Australia. There's 
 money in the bank to take you to the end of the 
 world. You're a Scotchman,' he used to say, ' and 
 your breed always does well in the colonies.' I've 
 been thinking, ever since young master struck 
 Willie, that if the Squire died we would emigrate 
 and seek independence in a new country." 
 
SOME CONSEQUENCES. tf 
 
 "Should I hint that to Minnie next time I see 
 her?" 
 
 " Yes, you might sea how she takes to the idea, 
 Jean. By-the-by, have you heard lately from your 
 young man ? " 
 
 Jean dropped her head as she replied, " No ; 
 he writes seldom, and is always full of grumbles. 
 I think I must give him up. When you marry, 
 I can go into service." 
 
 "No, you won't, my lass. If Minnie, or whoever 
 it is, grudges you a room here, then Angus 
 Forbes remains unmarried." 
 
 Jean smiled, and shook her head. " I like to hear 
 you say that ; it sounds bonny on your lips : but 
 I know men better than that ; they mean well, poor 
 things, but when the fire of temptation comes, they're 
 as weak as this wool ; " with which words Jean 
 passed her wool through the candle with disastrous 
 effects. 
 
 Angus lit his pipe, and became absorbed in 
 thought. Jean was busy now with her owl, asking 
 her brother's advice at times on some knotty point 
 of pose : and so an hour or more went by. Then 
 came an elaborate knock at the door, and the grave 
 face of Mr. Brook, the Squire's butler, appeared. 
 
 " I hope I see you well, Miss Forbes and the little 
 man?" 
 
 " He is asleep, thank you, Mr. Brook, and seems 
 easier." 
 
 " Ah ! we have had terrible scenes about it at the 
 Hall. I could hear the Squire pitching into Master 
 Aubrey before dinner. I hate listening, you know, 
 but really their voices got so loud, and Master 
 Aubrey's was so nasty and rude, that I put my 
 head in 
 
 " ' Did you call, sir ? ' says I, as smooth as melted 
 butter. 
 
58 VELVETEENS. 
 
 "' Confound you, Brook, get out!' says Master 
 Aubrey. 
 
 " ' I am not your servant, sir/ says I, keeping my 
 dignity. 
 
 " ' Did you call, sir ? ' I says again to my master. 
 
 " ' Well, Brook/ says the Squire, ' I shall be glad if 
 you can take a note for me to the keeper's lodge 
 after dinner, and ask how the little boy is getting 
 on. I want you to take it yourself/ 
 
 " ' Certainly, sir/ and I slowly left the smoking- 
 room, fixing Master Aubrey with a stony stare 
 of wei^ sa y a stony stare." 
 
 " Poor master ! " murmured Angus. 
 
 The butler went on, "As soon as I had left the 
 room, Mr. Aubrey began again at his father quite 
 awful. The pantry, you know, is just along the 
 corridor, and it was all I could do to keep myself 
 from hearing every word that was spoken. He 
 called his father a dotage, whatever that may 
 mean, and said he didn't behave to him properly 
 as a father should, and he was always taking the 
 part of the villagers against him, and he shouldn't 
 stand any more of it ; he should go away and live 
 in London. Then came a low murmur, so low 
 that I thought it better to be at hand in case 
 aught should happen to the master for there's no 
 knowing what violence that young man might 
 employ, and there was the poor old gentleman 
 pleading with his son not to disgrace the old name. 
 He said something I did not rightly hear what 
 about, ' If your poor mother had been alive ' and 
 then what do you think was the heartless answer ? 
 Why, he said, ' Bosh ! ' You hardly believe me, Miss 
 Forbes, but he cried, ' Bosh ! ' and stamped his foot. 
 It nearly made me fall backwards the door opened 
 so sudden, and Mr. Aubrey called out 
 
 "' Brook !' 
 
SOME CONSEQUENCES. g 
 
 "'I'm coming, sir/ says I, recovering myself as 
 well as I could. 
 
 " ' What, are you listening at the door, eh ? ' 
 says he, sarcastic. 
 
 " ' There's no occasion, sir/ says I, ' you shouts 
 so loud/ 
 
 " ' If you don't behave yourself, I'll treat you as 
 I treated the keeper's boy to-day/ says he, looking 
 very nasty. 
 
 " I had a nice answer on my lips for him, but when 
 I see the old Squire looking so woebegone it quite 
 unmanned me. 
 
 "'Brook/ says Mr. Aubrey, 'tell John to pack 
 up my things. I shall go away by the first train 
 to-morrow/ 
 
 " ' Certainly, sir/ says I, making way for him 
 to pass. Then I went up to the Squire, and 
 said, 'I'm very sorry to see Mr. Aubrey so put 
 out, but I expect it was the boys hissing him in 
 the village. He'll be better to-morrow, sir, I'll be 
 bound/ 
 
 " ' Brook/ says master, ' you never had a son ; you 
 don't know what it is I am suffering and you may 
 thank God you don't/ 
 
 " ' About the keeper, sir ? ' says I, after as decent 
 a pause as I could give him, considering the silver 
 was not yet put out on the table. 
 
 " ' Ah, yes ; come in for the letter again. I'll have 
 it ready in five minutes ; and tell the coachman to 
 get the dog-cart ready at eight o'clock to-morrow 
 morning/ 
 
 " The old gentleman's lip was set firm. He could 
 not get over Mr. Aubrey saying ' Bosh ! ' when he 
 reminded him of his dead mother; I know that was 
 what made him so resolute. It meant, ' Out you go, 
 my lad, till I'm dead/ that's about it." 
 
 " It is very terrible for the poor old gentleman/' 
 
60 VELVETEENS. 
 
 said Jean; "but it's an ill wind that blows nobody 
 any good ; and I think the village-folk won't miss 
 him much." 
 
 " We was not very merry at dinner, I can tell you : 
 my master hardly ate a morsel, couldn't do anything 
 but sigh ; the gentlemen kept looking at one another, 
 and I had some ado to keep their glasses full. You 
 see, they felt a bit nervous-like, and had nothing 
 particular to do, so kept on sipping the sherry 
 without quite knowing what they was doing. I've 
 known gentlemen do that quite absent-minded, and 
 then say, ' Brook, what has become of the sherry ? ' 
 it's a fact, miss." 
 
 The butler's face actually had the ghost of a 
 smile upon it : as a rule, his eminent respectability 
 did not allow of anything so frivolous. Angus 
 waited till the smile had worked itself out, and then 
 inquired if he had brought him the promised note. 
 
 " Bless my soul ! if I had not clean forgotten it," 
 said Mr. Brook, clapping himself all over smartly, 
 to discover in which pocket the epistle was lying 
 concealed. " Ah ! here it is, with my own private 
 memorandums," he cried, as several small pieces of 
 dirty paper fell out with its appearance. "Read 
 it, read it at your leisure, while I look at this 'ere 
 howl." 
 
 When Angus had read the letter, he passed it on 
 to his sister. Mr. Brook, while pretending to admire 
 the owl, was pricking up his ears for any scrap of 
 information which might come in his way ; he was 
 very curious to know what was in the letter. As 
 Angus did not seem to be going to acquaint him 
 with the contents, he threw out a bait inquiringly. 
 
 " Well ? am I to take back a verbal answer ? " 
 
 "I don't think that would be very civil, Mr. 
 Brook," said Angus. "You know, perhaps, what 
 this letter says ? " 
 
SOME CONSEQUENCES. 6l 
 
 Mr. Brook pursed up his lips and simpered, 
 trying to look knowing and yet guileless ; this quite 
 took in the simple keeper. 
 
 "Then there's no harm in my telling you that 
 master very kindly asks me to take the post of 
 head keeper." 
 
 " I thought so," said the butler ; " and I congratu- 
 late you with all my heart, and wish you joy." 
 
 " Thank you ! thank you, Mr. Brook ! " said Angus 
 and his sister. 
 
 "Well, if you're going to write a hanswer, I 
 must be saying good night ; there'll be whisky 
 and soda wanted by I get back." 
 
 So Mr. Brook made a dignified and polished 
 exit. 
 
 " Well, Jean, it has come ; and I guess poor 
 Willie's flogging hastened the Squire's intentions. 
 We must look after the poor lad a little better, 
 and not let him run about so wild. Doesn't it 
 seem to you as if we were robbing poor father of 
 something getting into his shoes so quick ? " 
 
 "Ah, brother, when you are away all day, I am 
 constantly thinking of father and dear mother. 
 There's one thing if you don't step into father's 
 shoes, somebody else will." 
 
 "You're right, lassie. Get me down the poems 
 of Robbie Burns ; father aye loved to read them. 
 Before we go to bed, Jean, I will read you a bit 
 he marked after mother died." 
 
 And Angus read in a voice so loud and clear 
 that the fox terrier in her kennel cocked one ear 
 forward and listened 
 
 " 'The voice of nature loudly cries, 
 And many a message from the skies, 
 That something in us never dies ; 
 That on this frail, uncertain state 
 Hang matters of eternal weight ; 
 
62 VELVETEENS. 
 
 That future life, in worlds unknown, 
 Must take its hue from this alone : 
 Whether as heavenly glory bright, 
 Or dark as misery's woeful night.' 
 
 " I think, Jean, we can thank God now, and get us 
 to bed." 
 
CHAPTER IX, 
 
 THE VICAR. 
 
 [HE Vicar and one of his daughters were 
 making some calls in the parish a few 
 days after Willie's ill-treatment. It 
 was getting to the end of September 
 now, and the leaves were turning in the 
 woods. The Squire's shooting party had broken up 
 suddenly after the hasty disappearance of his son. 
 There were fewer carriages full of visitors now 
 rolling about the villages, and the natives were 
 being left to themselves and to their quiet, humdrum 
 life. The Rev. C. Fraser began to enjoy himself 
 now, and would take long walks with one daughter 
 or another, sometimes going across the fields to the 
 sea, and so along the crisp turf of the undulating 
 cliff, or throwing pebbles into the retreating wave 
 for the big black retriever to fetch out. Sometimes 
 he had a cottage to visit on the other side of the 
 moor, and then they would return with sprigs of 
 pink heather in their hats ; or their way lay through 
 the dark woods redolent with turpentine, and then 
 they would amuse themselves by watching the 
 gambols of the rabbits, standing silent for a long 
 
64 VELVETEENS. 
 
 while till the foolish young rabbits thought they 
 were only trees of a different growth, and heeded 
 them not. 
 
 Mr. Fraser was bent on having a co-operative 
 store in the village, of which all the villagers should 
 be members ; he had just heard from the Squire 
 that two cottages near the club could be had for the 
 purpose, and he was this afternoon going round to 
 broach the subject to some of his parishioners. 
 
 There was no chapel at Beckthorp, and if any 
 one yearned after a more free and easy service than 
 he could get at the parish church, he had to go 
 down|to the sea, where the fisher-folk had built for 
 themselves a large red-brick building, not so much 
 because of any difference of doctrine, as for free- 
 dom's sake : they wanted a place which they might 
 call their own ; they wanted to choose their own 
 hymns and their own minister ; and they wanted to 
 be able to " sack " the minister of their choice, if 
 they thought fit. But they were quite willing to 
 come to church on occasions, to be married and 
 buried according to the ritual of the Church of 
 England. They were very good friends with the 
 Vicar. 
 
 Miss Fraser was a merry, round-faced girl of about 
 nineteen. She had several sisters equally merry 
 and round-faced, and only by their height could 
 you tell one from the other. 
 
 Mary Fraser and her father had just tapped at 
 Harry Bent's door ; the Vicar, as was his wont, 
 opened the door and went in, but found, to his sur- 
 prise, that Harry and Giles Fletcher were seated at 
 the table, enjoying apparently a good dinner. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Harry ; I did not know you 
 dined at four o'clock, or I would not have intruded. 
 Bless me, what very fine blackbirds you've got there 
 on the table ! " 
 
THE VICAR. 65 
 
 " Yes, sir, they be wonderful fine for the time 
 of year," replied Mr. Bent, covering his confusion 
 in a mug of ale. But seeing that the Vicar was 
 laughing, he joined in the laugh, and said, " You 
 must wink a little bit, sir, and consider these here 
 birds are raised in our own back-yard, if you 
 please." 
 
 " Quite so," said the Vicar, " I know you are old 
 at this game, Harry, and it seems part and parcel 
 of your nature ; our good Squire winks at it, too : but 
 what is Giles doing with blackbirds ? I thought 
 he had given a promise to a certain person never 
 to go out after the Squire's birds again ? " 
 
 " So I have, sir ; though I don't see how you 
 came to know about it. But I am not out after 'em 
 now, am I, sir ? " 
 
 " Ah, Giles, you are young, and have had a better 
 bringing up than Harry ; there will be no excuse 
 made for you, I warn you. I shall, of course, say 
 nothing of to-dciy's feast, but you can't expect to go 
 on and not get found out. You know the proverb, 
 ' Murder will out ; ' and this is true, if it be only 
 the murder of hares and partridges. Harry, I will 
 call again." 
 
 As they walked up the street, May said to her 
 father 
 
 " I don't like the look of Giles Fletcher ; he has 
 a handsome face, but his eyes look sly. When you 
 first went in, I saw through the crack in the door 
 how defiant he looked ; and then, when you spoke 
 of his being found out, he turned quite white." 
 
 "Yes, Mary, I'am afraid he is on a dangerous 
 road. He consorts with bad company, and cannot 
 bear to be rebuked." 
 
 "What a pity that the girl, Minnie Fletcher, 
 seems to prefer him to Angus Forbes. Angus is 
 worth a hundred of such as Giles is." 
 
66 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " Oh ! is Angus spoony in that quarter ? I always 
 thought he would never stoop to such a frailty as 
 love. Poor Angus ! when your steady, blunt, down- 
 right man of action, and not of words, does fall in 
 love, it is often a more serious affair. I must have 
 a talk with Minnie next time I get an opportunity. 
 Here, I am going in now to do some work ; couldn't 
 you run up the hill and call at the lodge, and find 
 out if Angus is ill ? He was not singing in the 
 choir, last night. Yet he never misses church." 
 
 So Mary tripped up to the keeper's lodge. 
 
 Forbes and his sister were both at home, engaged 
 in some work at the side table. 
 
 " I hope I am not disturbing you both ? " 
 
 " Not at all, Miss Mary ; pray be seated," said 
 Jean. 
 
 " Papa and I have been round, asking people 
 if they would take shares in the new stores we are 
 wishing to start." 
 
 Angus turned from his work, saying, " Anything 
 that the Vicar does must be right, and perhaps he 
 has thought about what will become of the shop- 
 keeper." 
 
 " Oh yes ; we have promised to give them some 
 shares in the stores. There are not many, you know ; 
 in fact, only one real shop at the post-office, where 
 they sell everything you don't want, and never 
 have what you do." 
 
 "Quite right, Miss Mary," said Jean, laughing; 
 "and things are so dear, too. It would be nice 
 having a good store." 
 
 "And yet several mothers that we have seen 
 fight shy of it. I believe they think we are going 
 to make something out of it. We had such trouble 
 making folks understand that they would get their 
 things cheaper arid better. Tea, for instance, which 
 they pay two shillings a pound for now, they will 
 
THE VICAR. 67 
 
 get for one shilling and fourpence ; cheese, for 
 which they pay ninepence and tenpence, will cost 
 sixpence. And at the end of the year those who 
 have bought shares will get some money back 
 according to the profits/' 
 
 "Only think!" said Jean, her Scotch thrift 
 approving of money that has been spent coming 
 back like an Australian boomerang. 
 
 "I do not yet quite see who's going to be rich 
 enough to buy shares ? " said Angus, hesitatingly. 
 
 "Papa says folk must begin and save up for 
 them." 
 
 " It's none so easy to save on twelve or even 
 fifteen shillings a week, miss, with a large family 
 to keep. Think of the clothes and the boots and the 
 food, and sometimes the doctor's bill.' 1 
 
 " Yes ; it's very hard, I know." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Miss Mary, the only way 
 really to know is to suffer want yourself." 
 
 "And we have done it," said Mary, colouring a 
 little. "Why, before we came here we had a living 
 in Essex ; it ought to have been a good living. 
 But you know what farming has come to down 
 there. There was no tithe to be had ; we had very, 
 very little to live on. I shall never forget those 
 days of cold and hunger. Poor mother caught an 
 illness which clings to her still. But we happily 
 got this given us, and we soon became so fat and 
 chubby that no one would guess we only had meat 
 once a week in our young days. I very much doubt 
 if your brother, Jean, has ever known what it is 
 to suffer want." 
 
 Mary Fraser's comic imitation of the slightly 
 Scotch accent of the young keeper made them both 
 laugh. Angus replied 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Miss Fraser, for saying you 
 had not suffered want I think I might be excused 
 
68 VELVETEENS. 
 
 for saying so. I can only say I respect you all the 
 more for your experience, and for the brave manner 
 in which you speak freely of it. Some ladies would 
 have been ashamed to mention it." 
 
 "By the way, Jean, why was not your brother 
 singing bass last night in church ? He is so seldom 
 absent." 
 
 Jean looked at Angus, and smiled. 
 
 Angus coughed ; yes, it was rather a bad cough, 
 for him. At last he stammered out, with a red 
 face 
 
 " I I I had never heard the Primitive Metho- 
 dists sing in their own chapel, and so just for once, 
 you know 
 
 "Was she there?" asked Mary, suddenly. 
 
 "She? who is she? Do you mean ?" The 
 
 poor fellow reddened to the roots of his hair, and 
 looked at Jean for help. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Mary," said Jean, laughing ; "I think 
 you have about guessed the attraction that took 
 Angus to chapel." 
 
 "Then it was only the attraction of Minnie's 
 bright eyes, Mr. Forbes ? " 
 
 " Well, yes ; perhaps, if I speak the whole truth, I 
 must confess that I wanted to hear Minnie Fletcher 
 she's a fine singer." 
 
 " So I have heard ; she is a fine girl, too, and 
 father says a good girl, and would make a man a 
 good wife. But she's like most of us, Jean, she's 
 very wilful. I'll tell you what ! if you want to marry 
 Minnie Fletcher, you must neglect her a little ; don't 
 make so much of her : and, Jean, you might talk to 
 her of inviting down one of your lowland lassies 
 for your brother to fall in love with. I shouldn't 
 wonder if that would touch her." 
 
 "Well, I never thought of that, Miss Mary," 
 said Angus, laughing. 
 
THE VICAR. 
 
 6 9 
 
 "Ah, I see I must give you some lessons in this 
 sort of trapping, Mr. Keeper. But, seriously, I do 
 want you to win her. But I must be off. Good 
 bye." 
 
 "What a blithe, merry lass she is," said Angus, 
 watching her as she crossed the brook. " I wonder 
 if there's anything in it." 
 
 " I will try her receipt," said Jean ; " but now 
 to work again." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 A PENNY READING. 
 
 autumn had passed away into winter ; 
 the trees and hedges were now in the 
 grasp of the north wind, and very 
 savagely did he blow across the frozen 
 moor from his icy throne in Arctic regions 
 beyond the sea. In summer-time it was a matter of 
 boast with the natives that, when you gazed sea- 
 ward, you looked at an expanse of water which 
 stretched right away to the Pole, pure ocean 
 undiluted by any fresh water from island or conti- 
 nent ; but in the howling months of January and 
 February they said little about their prized North 
 Pole, but were glad enough to squeeze together in 
 the ingle neuk, and listen to the old stories before 
 the fire. Even the club was not always full o' 
 winter nights, unless some special attraction, such 
 as a penny reading, or a concert, called them out. 
 There is one going on to-night. Let us enter and 
 enjoy the simple amusements of the hour. 
 
 The back rows are full of boys and girls. The 
 boys are well, I think they must have got the 
 mumps, so strangely do their cheeks bulge out, No, 
 
A PENNY READING. 7t 
 
 1 see they are busy on buns ; buns are cheap, 
 to-night a mere drug in the market, as the 
 chemist from Danby said. He had come to Beck- 
 thorp on a visit, and had imparted some very 
 useful information to the drug department of the 
 new store next door ; which information the store 
 committee were not going to utilize. " If you get 
 your drugs from Danby, you will save ten per 
 cent." Quite so! They bowed him out with a 
 ticket for the entertainment. And here he was 
 looking around rather superciliously till he came to 
 the front seats, when he became all smiles and nods. 
 
 The boys, then, in the back seats, being so clogged 
 with bunny matter, could hardly utter anything 
 more intelligible than " Where's Bill?" "Under 
 the bench bun's got dropped." " Oh ! is this 'ere 
 it ? here's something soft under my foot." " Drat 
 you ! that's my bad corn, that is." Whereas the 
 girls were all simpering and tittering, and tattling 
 into one another's bonnet-strings : " Do ye see 
 Mister Forbes ? " " He's gone behind the stage to 
 see what Giles Fletcher is a doin'." " Look at 
 Miss Brown ; did ye ever see such a back hair 
 as that?" "Lor', Susie, she's got her false front 
 put on behind, I do declare ! " " Hush ! here comes 
 the Squire ; we couldn't hear his carriage for the 
 snow." " How worn he do look, to be sure ! " 
 " Who's the tall young gentleman with the lady ? " 
 "Don't you know? that's the Cappen he's come 
 home from forren parts." " Who's the young lady ? 
 Ask Mary Bush : she's been helping in the Squire's 
 kitchen. I say, Mary, who's yon ? " 
 
 Mary Bush blushes on being appealed to by a 
 whole benchful, and changes her seat in order to 
 form a centre of information. 
 
 - "Who's yon with the Cappen the lady with the 
 white cloak ? " 
 
72 VELVETEENS. 
 
 i 
 
 " She's a tip- topper Honourable Miss Gladys 
 I don't know what else a regular 'eap of names. 
 Look ! there's her brother." 
 
 " Why, Jemima, blessed if that ain't that bloom- 
 ing Lord Haver Haver something, what behaved 
 hisself so nice last summer ! " 
 
 " So it is, Lizzie ; and to think he should have 
 a sister ! " 
 
 " And why shouldn't he, stoopid ? " 
 "Please don't take me up so smart, Jenny 
 Crofton ; I was a-going to say ' a sister with a 
 white shawl and real diamonds/ so now!" 
 
 But we must not stop all the evening listening 
 to the young girls. A seat or two further on 
 there are some old men in smock-frocks quite 
 unfashionable villagers ; they have each got their 
 old women with them, dressed in black gowns and 
 bonnets. The old men are showing the gaps in 
 their front teeth, and preparing to be amused at 
 everything they see ; for they can't expect to 
 hear much at their age. The old women have 
 got six camphor drops, which they are lending 
 along the row. "It'll keep the cowd out, Sarey, if 
 you'll press it to your gums for half a minute. 
 Don't go eating of them, 'cause they be a very 
 special lot, three ha'pence the half ounce. No, it 
 won't melt yet awhile." 
 
 " How do you do, Mrs. Jones ? Didn't think to 
 see you here with your rheumatis. Will you try the 
 camphor drop ? Sarey, where's that there paper ? 
 If you've eaten them, I shall never hear the last 
 of it. Ah ! here it is again." 
 
 The next two rows are full of fisher-folk from 
 Nether Beckthorp. 
 
 "And is he going to get Mr. Thomson to build 
 him a house ? Is he indeed ! " 
 
 "Yes, he'll borrow half, and half he's made by 
 his boat" 
 
A PENNY READING. 73 
 
 " It's my opinion that them summer lodgers pay 
 better than fishing." 
 
 "They do; why didn't our father think on that 
 years ago ? " 
 
 "Why, you silly, there was no train came near 
 us then." 
 
 " No more there was. I am thronged with lobster, 
 and can't think." 
 
 " I say, Ruth Fletcher, is Giles going to marry 
 Minnie?" 
 
 " I think so ; his mother's been buying a new bed 
 and a basin and a jug. They'll have to join at one, 
 I reckon ; the old woman's that saving she is." 
 
 "It's well being Minnie, and having first choice," 
 sighed a young girl whose nose had forgotten to 
 sprout when the rest of her was growing. 
 
 And now we come to the front seats, we must 
 not be so rude as to listen to their comments. The 
 third row were all the servants from the Hall, and 
 as they sat so near to their master they were as 
 quiet as mice until the applause began, when 
 they thawed and melted, and became a volcano 
 of eruptive encores. Jean Forbes sat next to Mr. 
 Brook and the head gardener, and whenever she 
 made a remark the butler waved his hand gracefully 
 (he was wearing a ring), and said 
 
 "We shall see by-and-by, Miss Jean." 
 
 In the front row sat the Squire and his second 
 son, Captain Hervey, just returned from India ; then 
 Lord Haverden and a married daughter of the 
 Squire's, and the Hon. Miss Gladys, and the Vicar 
 with three of his daughters. 
 
 There were several well-known characters bustling 
 about the stage Angus, Giles, Minnie, the Vicar's 
 two eldest girls, Harry Bent, the Post-master, and 
 other members of the church and chapel choirs, 
 most of whom were just in that state of nervous 
 
?4 VELVETEENS. 
 
 excitement that they could not keep still a moment, 
 and if they set off to do anything they remembered 
 something else which must be done first. The 
 consequence of all this was that they were con- 
 stantly doubling back, like hares hard pressed, and 
 falling into one another's arms. As there was a 
 small door at each end of the stage which led to 
 the behind-scenes, the hare no sooner disap- 
 peared at one door but it re-appeared at the other. 
 Now, when Angus met Miss Fraser and nearly 
 knocked her over, they both laughed, and Angus 
 blushed and begged pardon. Also, when Harry 
 Bent ran tilt into Minnie's stomacher, he was 
 profuse in his apologies to the wayward beauty ; 
 but when Angus, turning suddenly to do an errand 
 for Miss Lucy Fraser, fairly knocked the unfortunate 
 Giles over as he was stooping to pick up some music, 
 and himself sprawled over his prostrate rival, the 
 whole assembly burst into a roar of laughter, and 
 the little boys and girls at the back jumped upon 
 their seats, shouting, " Hurrah ! go it, Angus ! " 
 When the noise had subsided, the husky voice of 
 Giles was heard grumbling as he wiped himself 
 down with a coloured pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 " Great lout of a rustic ! " were the words plainly 
 heard by the four front benches. 
 
 Angus at first looked a little perplexed, but, 
 catching a hint from the Vicar, he stepped up to 
 Giles, and politely offered to help him in dusting 
 his coat. 
 
 This he proceeded to do with some vigour, to 
 the great glee of the school children, who shouted, 
 " Tie a knot in the hankey ! tie a knot, and give it 
 'ot!" At length Giles Fletcher was fairly dusted 
 off the stage in high dudgeon. 
 
 Presently the Squire tapped on the floor with his 
 stick ; and Minnie, Miss Mary Fraser, Angus and 
 
A PENNY READING. 7g 
 
 Giles came upon the platform with music fluttering 
 in their hands ; they looked at one another inquir- 
 ingly once or twice. 
 
 " What's up now ? " shouted a rude boy at the 
 back. 
 
 "Trying to take the time from Minnie, don't 
 yer see ? " 
 
 " Time ? what time ? Where's her watch, mate ? " 
 
 " Silence in the back rows ! " said the keeper of 
 the club, in a stentorian voice, just as the quartet 
 began. 
 
 " Hush, hush ! silence behind there ! " said the 
 people in front ; and every row except the two last 
 turned round with a rustle and a scrape to see what 
 the hubbub was about. 
 
 Giles had recovered his temper now ; in fact, he 
 could hardly sing for laughing, and some of his 
 notes became an inane gurgle. 
 
 Minnie glanced pretty sharply at him, but in 
 vain ; for Giles had just stepped into the Three 
 Jolly-boats before coming up the street, and he 
 was now a bit of a jolly-boat himself. He had 
 so far let this out that the butler had nudged the 
 head gardener behind Jean's back. This nudge 
 had been passed on with whispered comments and 
 winks in small print. Minnie's quick eye saw some 
 of this, and she omitted the last verse. 
 
 The song was suddenly over, and everybody was 
 stamping and yelling. 
 
 When the performers met behind the stage, 
 Minnie said low to Giles 
 
 ' You've been drinking again ! I shall not sing 
 that duet with you now ; and I should strongly 
 advise you to go home." 
 
 Giles looked foolish, and said nothing. 
 
 "Oh, Minnie!" said Miss Mary, "why did you 
 leave out the last verse ? " 
 
76 VELVETEENS. 
 
 "Well, suppose they had encored us, it would 
 have come in handy." 
 
 " We are not likely to get encored," said Angus, 
 " if one of the parts is grinning at the girls t'other 
 end of the room half the time." 
 
 " Who was grinning at girls ? " said Giles, angrily. 
 
 " Hush, hush ! silence behind the stage ! " 
 
 The second thing was on. Harry Bent was re- 
 citing a piece. 
 
 He began in rather squeaky tones, but with 
 plenty of dramatic power ; but unfortunately the 
 quarrel behind the stage had not finished, so that 
 the recitation came to the listeners in the hall, 
 especially to those at the back, in this form 
 
 " Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close, 
 Up yonder hill the village murmur rose.'* 
 
 " Who was grinning at girls ? " 
 " You were ; it was monstrous." 
 
 * * There as I passed with careless step and slow, 
 The mingled notes " 
 
 " It's no business of yours, Master Jackanapes, 
 Who are you, I'd like to know ? " 
 
 " The sober herd that lowed to meet their young, 
 The noisy geese that gabbled " 
 
 " Well, drop it now ; or they'll hear us in the 
 hall." 
 
 " And the loud laugh that spake the vacant mind; 
 These all in sweet confusion " 
 
 " Who are you ? I suppose I may smile without 
 getting a horder from the nearest magistrate ! 
 And as to grinning at girls, there isn't a blooming 
 
A PENNY READING. 77 
 
 one I'd care to touch with the end of a boat-hook. 
 I loathe the whole lot." 
 
 " All but yon widowed solitary thing, 
 That feebly bends beside the plashy spring. " 
 
 But at this point the whole assembly burst out 
 into a guffaw, to Harry Bent's great surprise ; for 
 he had been so absorbed, entranced, and enthralled 
 by Goldsmith's poetry, that he had taken no heed 
 of the interruptions. He now, in his rage, thinking 
 they were laughing at him, cried out 
 
 "It comes from Goldsmith's 'Deserted Village/ 
 ladies and gentlemen." 
 
 " Yes, yes, go on," whispered the Vicar, half rising 
 from his seat; "we were laughing at something 
 behind the stage." 
 
 " Go on," shouted a reckless ribald at the back, 
 "be'st thou waiting for thy good woman?" 
 
 tf She, wretched matron, forced in age for bread 
 To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread." 
 
 Another roar of laughter so incensed the cobbler 
 that he flung the book on the ground with an angry 
 stamp, and a withering look of scorn. 
 
 The third item on the programme was the toy 
 symphony. 
 
 Great was the excitement when the Vicar was 
 seen giving his arm to Miss Gladys, and when Lord 
 Haverden and Captain Hervey also went on the 
 stage. 
 
 " Ain't she beautiful to look at ? Well, I never 
 did ! if she isn't undressing ! Her arms is bare to 
 the shoulder ! " 
 
 "You silly that's evening dress, that is." 
 
 " Only look at her jules, mate di'monds in her 
 hair and bracelets and a necklace of pebbles 
 they must have taken some finding! And what 
 
78 VELVETEENS. 
 
 are they going to do ? Play summut ? A toy sim- 
 penny they calls it ? Oh, I see ! the Cappen's got 
 a penny whistle, and two bits of old iron ; his lord- 
 ship's going to tap three tumblers with an egg- 
 spoon, and Miss Gladys has a penny trumpet and a 
 drum.' 1 
 
 This, however, in spite of critical forecasts, was 
 the gem of the evening, and was encored twice. 
 
 The last thing was a reading by the Vicar, 
 which gave the old cronies the luxury of a good, 
 if furtive, weep. But already the Squire's footman 
 stood ready at the door. When the swells had 
 gone, Minnie turned to Jean, and said 
 
 "Do you think your brother would kindly walk 
 home with me ? I don't like to ask him, as he 
 always seems to avoid me now somehow. You 
 have Willie to keep you company, you know." 
 
 " But did not Giles Fletcher bring you here ? " 
 
 "I would rather not walk back with him, 
 Jean, please." 
 
 This was how it was that Angus found him- 
 self walking by the side of Minnie Fletcher over 
 - the crisp snow on this cold winter's night, 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 WALKING BY MOONLIGHT. 
 
 NGUS and Minnie walked for some time 
 in silence. He was thinking of the 
 young lady's advice, "Treat her with 
 some neglect/' and he had a feeling that 
 he would not take an advantage over his 
 rival, though they do say that " all is fair, in love and 
 war." At last, after Minnie had nearly slipped to 
 the ground on the ice, he offered his arm, and she 
 accepted it. 
 
 " Well, we don't seem very full of talk, do we ? " 
 she said with a laugh. 
 
 "It is rather difficult for me, you see. I don't 
 know how you feel with regard to me and Giles 
 Fletcher." 
 
 " Oh ! I did not mean that sort of talk, Angus, 
 I should not have been so bold as that. I meant, 
 you seem to be angry with me ; you don't speak 
 pleasant to me, as you used to do." 
 
 "It's your fault, then," said Angus, bluntly. "I 
 used to think you cared a bit for me, now I find 
 you like Giles better." 
 
So VELVETEENS. 
 
 " Giles is my cousin, and you arc well, the Forbes 
 are strangers in these parts." 
 
 " The same old story ! One would think you 
 Fletchers were a colony of rooks, by the way you 
 talk and act." 
 
 " I don't understand that. How are we like 
 rooks?" 
 
 "Have you not seen in the tall trees by the 
 church how the rooks build their nests together ? 
 Well, if one of them goes and mates with a bird 
 from another rookery, and tries to build her a 
 nest among his own people, the other rooks drive 
 them off with beak and claw, sometimes tearing 
 down the half-made nest." 
 
 " I have never noticed that, Angus. Then the poor 
 lovers may not mate at all, or what do they do ? " 
 
 "Sometimes, Minnie, the old rooks will let the 
 young couple build a nest in a tree a hundred yards 
 off; and that, in time, becomes a new colony a 
 fresh rookery." 
 
 Minnie heard the last words in silence ; if the 
 Fletchers objected to her marrying Angus, why 
 should she not do as the young, romantic rooks 
 do, and take up a nest at a distance ? 
 
 "Well, it's you that won't talk now," said 
 Angus. 
 
 " I was busy, thinking about the rooks : they be 
 wise creatures." 
 
 "Aye, faith, we may learn many a lesson from 
 bird and beast. You don't know till you come 
 to live among them." 
 
 "We talk of making a beast of one's self, 
 Angus, but did you ever see a beast the worse for 
 liquor?" 
 
 "Not unless a man had made it so. I guess 
 what you are thinking on now. What made Giles 
 come in like that ? " 
 
WALKING BY MOONLIGHT. 81 
 
 " I can't think. Suppose he felt nervous singing 
 before ladies, and took something to give him 
 Dutch courage." 
 
 " He must behave himself though when he speaks 
 to me, or I shall let him know the weight of my 
 fist. Wilt tell him so ? " 
 
 " I don't want to see any quarrelling between you. 
 If he comes to me, I shall tell him he has dis- 
 graced himself and me too." 
 
 " How many times are you going to let him dis- 
 grace you, Minnie?" 
 
 "I don't think you ought to ask me such a 
 question." 
 
 " I'm sorry to have to. You keep us both on 
 dangling about like ground bait. I think it's 
 time now you made up your mind." 
 
 " Perhaps I have and perhaps I haven't ; any- 
 ways I am not going to be hurried into any- 
 thing." 
 
 "Well, you must forgive my plain speaking. I'm 
 just a Scotchman, and only know how to speak 
 the truth to a body without any circum 
 You know what I mean, Minnie." 
 
 "No, I don't. I suppose you want to give me 
 some good advice ? " 
 
 " I never give advice to a young woman ; it isn't 
 wise or decent. What I wanted to say was that 
 we Scotch folk have our family pride, and and 
 Well, the long and the short of it is that if you're 
 going on much longer with that good-for-nothing 
 Giles Fletcher, Jean and I can't be on good terms 
 with you as we were." 
 
 This was indeed a crushing blow to Minnie ; 
 she was struck dumb by the shock of it. And 
 what made it all the worse, she felt that she 
 had deserved it. 
 
 Giles's conduct at the club had indeed annoyed 
 
 G 
 
82 VELVETEENS. 
 
 her so much that she had invited Angus to see her 
 home for the purpose of showing her resentment. 
 She had thought herself rather kind and con- 
 descending to ask Angus, but here he was taking 
 her to task like a school-girl, and almost throwing 
 her off in his pride. She hardly knew how to take 
 it ; but she withdrew her arm from his, and walked 
 on in silence till they turned a bend of the road, 
 and the glimmer of the sea in the pale moonlight 
 burst upon them. 
 
 "I think you are very unkind to me to-night, 
 Angus Forbes." 
 
 " I hope not. I was thinking perhaps that you 
 only wanted my company just to tease Giles a bit ; 
 and if that be so, as I said before, it goes against 
 my northern feeling of self-respect. I don't think 
 much of that - cousin of yours, Minnie Fletcher. 
 And it comes to this if you think he's good enough 
 for you, then I must keep right away from you, 
 though it hurts me to do it." 
 
 "I think I understand you now, Angus. You 
 fancy, doubtless, that I am a light-minded, fickle 
 thing, that can't make up my mind ; but you forget 
 about those crows and their pecking the stranger. 
 Perhaps I get pecked for liking a stranger. I 
 think we oughtn't to judge one another too harsh ; 
 we don't know always what trials folk may have to 
 bear at home." 
 
 "Is it so, indeed, Minnie?" said Angus, drawing 
 her arm again into his, and pressing the hand he 
 had seemed to scorn. 
 
 " Now, good night. Here's John standing at the 
 door, waiting for me, and you had better go home, for 
 it's late. Good night, and thank you for your com- 
 pany and a deal o' good advice," she added, with 
 a little short laugh that rang in his ears a long 
 time, 
 
WALKING BY MOONLIGHT. 83 
 
 "Thou art late, lass," said John, as she clapped 
 the gate to. " Here's Giles here, complaining you 
 were rude to him/' 
 
 " Then don't believe a word he says ; he has been 
 drinking." 
 
 Giles heard these words, and stood scowling with 
 his back to the fire, looking like a beautiful angel 
 cast out of Paradise. 
 
 Minnie, as she entered, was struck by the beauty 
 of his face ; for the swift walk through the frosty 
 air had coloured his cheeks with the most delicate 
 tints: but anger burnt in his eyes and contracted 
 his brow. 
 
 "Whoever says I have been drinking is a 
 
 "A what, Giles Fletcher ? Let's hear, please ; for 
 I say so." 
 
 " Oh, well, if you say so, if course it must be so," 
 said Giles, bitterly. 
 
 " Were you at the concert, John ? " asked 
 Minnie. 
 
 " No ; I have been doing the chapel accounts with 
 the deacons." 
 
 "It's a pity you weren't there to see the goings 
 on. Giles couldn't sing his part for foolish giggling. 
 I never was so mortified in my life. It's time I 
 told him to go his own way." 
 
 " I was laughing at some one t'other end of the 
 hall." 
 
 "Giles seems sober enough now, Minnie ; I think 
 you are rather hard on him. Sometimes one does get 
 a spell of laughing at inconvenient moments. I did 
 myself, a few Sundays back. I was holding the plate 
 at the chapel door, and a great, beastly dog came 
 and sat up in front of me, as if he was begging for 
 pennies ; and I tried all I could to keep it in, but, 
 though I managed my face all right, the laugh was 
 druv' down into my body like, and it shook me so 
 
84 VELVETEENS. 
 
 that all the little three-penny bits jumped up as if 
 they was a laughing too." 
 
 John's genial narration dispelled somewhat the 
 gloom which had been too conspicuous before. 
 
 Minnie took off her hat, and sat down. 
 
 "All I can say is, if I have mortified Minnie, 
 I'm truly sorry. Jim at the Three Jolly-boats can 
 tell you what I had a mere nothing. Perhaps the 
 frost drove it into my head, and made me mirthful- 
 inclined. But, dear me ! is a chap to be scolded and 
 sent off for such trifles as that ? I hope you found 
 Mr. Forbes quite sober, and a nice, steady com- 
 panion ? " 
 
 " Now, Giles," said John, " don't you go a sneering 
 at Angus Forbes. I've a very high opinion of him 
 and his sister." 
 
 "I don't doubt he means well, and takes good 
 care of his siller ; all they Scotch do that sharp 
 enough. But he needn't be so proud, setting hisself 
 up above us fisher-folk." 
 
 " Is he proud ? Not more so than an honest man 
 may be," said John. 
 
 "They were talking in the town the other day 
 that he had come into the Dolphin Inn, and said it 
 was the only place where a man could get a glass 
 of beer without being stared at by those beggarly 
 fishermen beggarly fishermen, that was it." 
 
 " Did he call us beggarly fishermen ? " said John, 
 bending forward with a frown. 
 
 "Who told you that tale, Giles?" asked 
 Minnie. 
 
 " It's all over the town now ; everybody's talking 
 about it. They say his father would never have 
 used such an expression." 
 
 "Well, if he said it, I think very badly of him. 
 But we should not judge one another rashly j 
 perhaps it's a lie," said Minnie. 
 
WALKING BY MOONLIGHT. 85 
 
 " Beggarly fishermen ! " repeated John Fletcher 
 to himself. " If that isn't a good tin ! Why, all 
 this Nether Beckthorp is freehold property, and 
 belongs to us beggarly fishermen! And if the 
 Squire was to die and Mister Aubrey was to come 
 and turn out young Forbes, who would be the 
 beggar then, I'd like to know ! Beggarly fishermen 
 indeed ! " 
 
 "Well, good night, neighbours. I am keeping 
 you up.'' 
 
 "I say, Minnie," said John, after Giles had left; 
 "that young fellow's mother has been speaking 
 to me about the wedding." 
 
 " What wedding ? You don't mean she took it for 
 granted I was a-going to marry Giles ? " 
 
 " You needn't be so mettlesome about it, lass. She 
 axed me if it was likely you was going to marry 
 her Giles, that was all." 
 
 " Oh, very well ; what did you say ? " 
 
 "I said I didn't know, for you was like an un- 
 broken filly, and Giles must tame you hisself." 
 
 " It's Giles that wants the taming ; if he had 
 been a good steady lad, I would have been glad to 
 pleasure you all by marrying him. But I must think 
 of myself a bit. What should I be like if Giles 
 took to drinking and poaching ? " 
 
 " Giles is young, and will sober down after a bit. 
 You see, Minnie, if you marry him, we keep the 
 money in the family. You've got a matter of eighty 
 pounds laid up, and that will just pay off the 
 mortgage on Giles's house ; there's only him and 
 his mother left, and if you marry him, the debt is 
 wiped off and the house is yours, free of any charge 
 on it. That's what I look at." 
 
 " It's all well enough looking at the money side 
 of it ; but the devil does that, John. I'd rather 
 do what is right. There's no doubt that Angus 
 
86 VELVETEENS. 
 
 Forbes is the most God-fearing and honest of the 
 two. He may not be so independent as Giles, 
 but he has a strong arm and a willing mind, and, 
 as you keep on saying, ' God helps them as helps 
 themselves." 
 
 "Ah, well! it's no use talking to thee, lass; thou 
 must go thine own froward way : so good night to 
 thee." 
 
 So Minnie was more perplexed than ever. She 
 was vexed with both the young men, and sought 
 in vain for guidance in her difficulty. Aunt Bessie 
 heard her tossing on her pillow, and cried, as if she 
 were stilling an infant, " Hush, child ! go to sleep 
 the angels are watching over us there's nought 
 to fear." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A SUNDAY WALK. 
 
 ; N the next Sunday afternoon Aunt 
 Bessie and Minnie were walking inland 
 to get out of the cutting wind which 
 blew over the sea. They had chosen a 
 deep lane, sheltered by high banks and 
 dark rustling woods. The wild, howling north 
 wind was hushed about their ears, and only made 
 itself audible in the swaying firs far above them. 
 Half a mile further, an upland of brown heather 
 dressed in festoons of snow stretched to their left, 
 and here a cart-track frozen to unwonted cleanliness 
 tempted them to leave the road and strike off 
 towards the woods. ' 
 
 "Everything seems so tame to-day," said Aunt 
 Bessie. "Look yonder! the little rabbits sit on 
 their hind legs and almost wait for us to touch 
 them ; the red-breasts and the starlings look wistfully 
 at us. They must be very hungry, poor things." 
 Minnie stopped and looked round. 
 "It's very pretty here in the winter-time, with 
 the snow amongst the gorse and the heather; 
 'tis a pity rich folk can't come here at Christmas, 
 and see how grand it all looks." 
 
88 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " Ah ! they like to be warm in their own houses, 
 Minnie. I often wonder where my husband is living 
 in the cold season. No doubt he's gone to India 
 or somewhere, where there is no post-office ; but I 
 have dreamt lately that he was coming soon, and 
 I must get tea ready, as he said." 
 
 " Lor', Aunt Bessie, I wonder you aren't tired of 
 that now. Don't you see everybody but you knows 
 he's drowned at sea ? " 
 
 " It's only me that knows he isn't drowned. Do 
 you think the good Lord would send me such dreams, 
 showing me him alive night after night, if he wasn't 
 alive ? Do you want to make the Lord out a liar ? 
 I'll never believe it, Minnie. In the last dream, I saw 
 him sitting at our table yonder, really sipping the 
 tea I have made so often, and all for naught. And 
 I read on the packet 'twas a half-pound packet 
 ' Ceylon tea/ So I want you to get me some good 
 Ceylon tea : never mind the price I can well 
 afford it, you know, from the allowance his brother 
 makes me out of the farm. Ceylon tea, it must 
 be ; if there isn't any to be got in the village, send 
 to Norwich for it. How should I feel if he came 
 back and I had no Ceylon tea ? " 
 
 The wild, dark eyes glistened and looked into 
 vacancy, seeing visions that saner eyes might not 
 behold. 
 
 While Minnie and Aunt Bessie were taking their 
 quiet Sabbath stroll over the heathery uplands, 
 Master Giles Fletcher, with two of his chums, was 
 engaged not very far off in shooting the Squire's 
 hares and rabbits on principle, mind ! 
 
 Giles was none of your common poachers, w r ho 
 sold his game to the middleman, who conveyed it 
 to the nearest market. Giles when he had made 
 his little bag of partridges, hares, or wood-pigeon, 
 used to call his neighbours and friends together 
 
A SUNDAY WALK. 89 
 
 and give them a good spread, drinking the Squire's 
 health in sound ale from the Three Jolly-boats. 
 Perhaps it was on account of this that Angus 
 Forbes could never get any one to give evidence 
 against Giles. All he could elicit from the villagers 
 was a sly, slow smile, and a declaration that Giles 
 Fletcher was "a good-hearted un," and if half 
 the parish behaved as handsome as he did, Beck- 
 thorp would be a better place to live in than it 
 was. 
 
 Now, as Giles and his two comrades cracked away 
 merrily right and left in the glades of the young 
 larch wood, it chanced that Angus and his little 
 brother were walking through the big fir-wood on 
 the opposite hill. They had stopped in the bracken, 
 and Angus, pointing to a certain spot at his feet, 
 was saying, " Here it was, Willie, that poor father 
 lay/' and the two sons were standing in reverent, 
 silent awe, when crack ! crack ! came the sounds of 
 two gun-shots, seeming to them close at hand. 
 The small boy, scared at the sounds, intruding as 
 they did upon his reverie and vision of a murdered 
 man, tightly clutched his brother's arm. 
 
 " There ! what's that ? " 
 
 "Only some chaps poaching yonder, Willie. I 
 will run down and see if I can nab them. You 
 cut across lower down, and mark who they are, if 
 you catch sight of them." 
 
 So the two brothers separated, Angus taking to 
 the right, that he might be on the upper ground, 
 Willie running with his heart in his mouth along the 
 line taken by Minnie Fletcher. 
 
 But Giles was too good a commander to be 
 caught napping he had a frigate out to spy and 
 give warning, in the shape of Ned Cooper ; and this 
 gentleman, on seeing Angus emerge from the wood 
 with his stout ash stick, speedily ran into the larches 
 
90 , VELVETEENS. 
 
 and signalled danger. Immediately guns were 
 stowed away under coats, and the three made off 
 in Willie's direction. However, no sooner did they 
 reach the outskirts of the wood than they spied 
 Willie trotting along the cart-track. 
 
 Then they stopped and whispered together ; in a 
 moment Giles had given his gun to one of his com- 
 panions, saying 
 
 " I will go and hold the boy in talk ; you make 
 for the wood-stack and hide the guns. Go down 
 yonder, behind the boy, get the other side of the 
 hedge it's pretty thick, and there's .a high bank, 
 and I'll keep him looking out t'other way." 
 
 With a nod they obeyed, and Giles crept along 
 almost on all fours, covering himself by a hillock 
 until he was within speaking distance of Willie, 
 but behind him. He waited till his comrades on 
 the lower ground had crossed the cart-track, then 
 called out 
 
 " Willie Forbes, is that you ? " 
 
 Willie turned round and saw Giles walking 
 demurely along the road a pleasant, profitable, 
 Sabbath walk, as it seemed. 
 
 "How do you do, boy? How are they all at 
 home?" 
 
 "Very well, thank you," said Willie, timidly; " and 
 I hope you keep pretty well." 
 
 " Capital, lad, capital ! But what's your brother 
 doing, out shooting on a Sunday. Wasn't that 
 Angus I saw ? And I heard a gun, too." 
 
 " Oh, we're out after poachers ! It was the 
 poacher's gun you must have heard, for Angus 
 hasn't brought his out with him." 
 
 " Poachers, eh ? then let us keep our eye on the 
 wood yonder ; for if they break cover, they're sure 
 to try for this corner near the town-end. Where's 
 Angus off to after them ? " 
 
A SUNDAY WALK. 91 
 
 "He said he would come down on them from 
 the top, and I was to mark who came out." 
 
 " That's right, lad ; let me see ! Isn't that my 
 two girls up yonder on the hill ? I must catch them 
 up, and you better go and meet your brother, and 
 you can tell him nobody has come out this side of 
 the wood, so he had better try upwards. You might 
 say you saw me walking with two girls there they 
 be yonder, waiting for me, and I can swear nobody 
 ran past this way. Off with you ! that'll help him 
 amazing." 
 
 Thus Willie went to the larch plantation to rejoin 
 his brother, while Giles Fletcher ran up the hill after 
 two figures which he had seen in the distance, but 
 whom he did not recognize until he had nearly 
 reached them. ' 
 
 "Well, I am in luck," he said to himself; "if it 
 isn't Aunt Bessie and Minnie! I shall look as 
 respectable as possible if Forbes comes this way. 
 Hi ! Minnie, hold on a bit ! " 
 
 They turned round on hearing Giles shout. He 
 came up panting. 
 
 " You take a lot of catching. May I walk a bit 
 of the way with you ? " 
 
 " Of course you may, Giles," said Minnie. 
 
 " I thought it was better spending the afternoon 
 quietly with you than fooling about with those chaps 
 down yonder, so when I heard you had come up this 
 way I set off after you." 
 
 Minnie rewarded him with one of her sweetest 
 smiles ; if she could but influence him to forsake 
 his old companions, she felt she could willingly marry 
 him yet. Alas ! she little knew that he had but now 
 greeted her with a lie in his mouth. 
 
 "You're looking your best to-day, Minnie," he 
 whispered, as Aunt Bessie lingered behind to prick 
 her fingers in the gorse. " Oh, why won't you say 
 
92 VELVETEENS. 
 
 you'll marry me, dearest ? You know I've got 
 mother's house to bring you to : it will be mine when 
 she dies a good, flint-walled house with two parlours 
 and plenty of bedrooms. We could make a lot of 
 money in the summer by letting to the visitors. 
 You know all that, my sweet darling, but I want 
 you to feel, and be sure, that if you marry me you 
 will want for nothing not even a husband who will 
 love you and do all he can to make you ever happy." 
 
 This was rather a long effort for Giles, who had 
 scarcely got his breath yet, after a hard run up hill, 
 and it made him sob a little in breathing, so that 
 Minnie was deeply moved, for she put it down to 
 his intense feeling. Giles gazed into her face and 
 clasped her hand. Minnie's eyes were clouded with 
 tears, her mouth drooped with the sad, regretful 
 longing that was coming over her. Oh, if Giles 
 were a steadier lad ! how gladly would she have 
 returned the pressure of his hand ; but as yet she 
 was afraid to trust him. He had disappointed her 
 so often. He had so often made promise of amend- 
 ment, and failed. 
 
 " Minnie, you don't speak ; you don't look at me, 
 darling. Let me see your sweet eyes look into mine. 
 Why, you're in tears ! I know what you're think- 
 ing about ; you're thinking that if you marry me I 
 shall get tired of you, and return to my old mates, 
 and we shall go from bad to worse. Now, isn't it 
 so, Minnie?" 
 
 She turned upon him her beautiful black eyes, 
 and they acted like magic upon his conscience. It 
 came across him all in a moment what a blackguard 
 he was, and how utterly unworthy of this charming 
 girl ; the tears actually welled into his eyes as he 
 said, in quite a different tone from the self-satisfied 
 one he had been employing, nay in low, impassioned 
 utterance 
 
A SUNDAY WALK. 93 
 
 "Oh, my life, my only anchor to hold me to 
 what is good ! if you knew how I longed for you, you 
 would relent and forgive me my past failings. I 
 think you would, Minnie, because you are a good 
 girl, you do what is right and love God ; and if you 
 could see how your marrying me would save me 
 from going wrong, you would say, * Giles Fletcher, 
 I am willing to be your wedded wife for better 
 or for worse ' ' 
 
 "Aye, for worse, I'll uphold it," said Aunt Bessie, 
 coming up at that inopportune moment and spoiling 
 their little love-making, "for worse, or I know 
 nothing of men." 
 
 "Well, Aunt Bessie, you haven't had much ex- 
 perience yet," said Minnie, rather cruelly. 
 
 " It is true too true. All I can say is they keep 
 you a mortal long while waiting waiting. But 
 there ! I mustn't think of myself always. Giles 
 Fletcher, if ever there was a rogue, you're one ! " 
 
 " Lor,' Aunt Bessie, whatever has come to you ? " 
 cried Minnie. 
 
 "Look yonder at that stack o' faggots," said 
 Aunt Bessie. 
 
 Minnie looked where her friend was pointing, 
 and saw two men stooping down and presently 
 running off. 
 
 "Well, now," said Minnie, "I don't see aught 
 to be scared of." 
 
 " They had guns when they came over the hedge, 
 now they've none," said Aunt Bessie ; " 'cause 
 they've bien and hid them." 
 
 "What's that got to do with me, I'd like to 
 know ? " cried Giles. 
 
 Aunt Bessie met his challenge with a bold stare. 
 
 " Do two men need three guns ? " she asked. 
 
 Giles winced, but promptly replied, "No, but 
 three men do, and if you had been as sharp as you 
 
04 VELVETEENS. 
 
 think, you'd ha' seen the third man keeping watch 
 by the hedge." 
 
 "Oh, Giles, do you know them?" Minnie asked 
 tremulously. 
 
 " I think I know who they are, but I didn't want 
 to frighten you ; and as to Aunt Bessie, I'll thank 
 her to keep a civil tongue in her head when she 
 speaks of me." 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Bessie, you did speak very rude to 
 Giles." 
 
 " Giles is a deal too clever for you, Minnie ; he 
 gammons you finely. But here comes Mr. Forbes, 
 I declare." 
 
 Forbes was striding down over the heather, and, 
 saluting Minnie with a touch of his Scotch cap, he 
 said 
 
 " Good afternoon, ladies ; have you seen any 
 young fellows running off this way ? " 
 
 The three exclaimed together that they had. 
 Giles adding in a low tone 
 
 " Mind you don't*tell him where the poor fellows 
 have hid their guns, or they will get into a row." 
 
 " Giles Fletcher, do you know them ? " asked 
 Forbes. 
 
 " Maybe I do ; but it wouldn't be neighbourly 
 to split on 'em, would it ? You're paid so much 
 a week to catch them ; they're not two fields off, 
 why don't you run, lad ? " 
 
 Forbes cast an angry glance at Giles, and started 
 in pursuit. 
 
 Aunt Bessie, being in a huff, walked apart, while 
 Giles made excellent use of his opportunities. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE SEARCH. 
 
 HAT afternoon Minnie sat silent at tea, 
 while Aunt Bessie talked with John 
 about the poachers. Both John and 
 Aunt Bessie thought it very likely that 
 Giles had been shooting too ; for it was 
 well-known that he had often employed Sunday 
 afternoon in this fashion. Minnie made no defence, 
 but sat pondering with her chin resting on her 
 hand. After tea she rose and put on her bonnet 
 and shawl, took down the lanthorn from the top 
 drawer of the cupboard, and was going out, when 
 John cried 
 
 " Halloa ! lass, where be'st tha' going this time 
 o' day?" 
 
 " Not far, John ; but it gets so dark these winter 
 nights." 
 
 "She's after something," said John, as the door 
 shut behind her ; " and she must be strange and soft 
 to want a lanthorn, for the moon will be up in half 
 an hour." 
 
 " It's my belief she's distraught with love, John. 
 She hardly ever answers a plain question now, like 
 a sensible body, but keeps mum as a mouse in a 
 
96 VELVETEENS. 
 
 trap, and when you've forgotten all about the ques- 
 tion, pat comes th' answer, fit to make you drop 
 with amazement." 
 
 "She's got hold o' summut now in that head 
 of hers, you may depend on't : she can't abear to 
 hear Giles called poacher, and she's gone to prove 
 him innocent." 
 
 "Ay, and she'll want more than one lanthorn to 
 find his honesty. I doubt if the 'lectric light could 
 ravel out a bit of truthful nature in that young man." 
 
 " Come, come, Bessie ! that's saying a deal more 
 than is warranted. The chap likes a bit o' shooting : 
 so does the Squire's son ; so does every English 
 lad. I reckon it's bred in us ever sin' Robin Hood's 
 days, and afore that too. Well, he ain't got no land 
 to speak on, no woods, no plantations, no turnips, 
 no gorse, no heather, and the Squire he doesn't 
 give our fellows invitation to shoot over his pre- 
 serves ; well, it follows, plain enough, that either 
 Giles and the likes of him must give up shooting 
 or take it as they can get it on the sly." 
 
 " I do wonder at you, John, defending poaching." 
 
 "I don't I don't, mind you! I think it very 
 wrong, dishonest, foolish tempting of the devil to 
 get you into the lock-up : but they don't look at 
 it like that ; they all begin it from sporting instinct 
 first a rat or a weasel, then a rabbit, then a wood- 
 pigeon or a wild duck, and so on, till they get 
 to partridges and home - reared pheasants. Ah ! 
 it's a bad job ! That poaching brings many a fine 
 young fellow to trouble. It's the beginning of a fall, 
 Bess. One fault, one vice breeds many : let a man 
 think himself a scoundrel, and he proceeds to live 
 up to it ; let his neighbours whisper ill of him, 
 and he will make the scandal a true story. It's a 
 marvellous rum thing is conscience, and I often 
 think 'tis like one of our boats on the slide that 
 
THE SEARCH. 97 
 
 goes down to the beach ; it's mortal hard to get 
 her up, but a child can set her slithering on the 
 downward track." 
 
 "Well, I suppose I must put the tea-thing, 
 away, for he won't come in to-night, I fear." 
 
 " Aye, Bess, put them up ; you're an example 
 to us all, I'm sure, for faith and patience, and you 
 deserve to be put alongside old Job hisself." 
 
 " Hush, John ! don't compare me with Bible 
 names. But stay ! was that the gate snicked ? " 
 
 Alas ! it was only the wife of a deacon who was 
 yearning for a chat. 
 
 What, then, was Minnie doing with the lanthorn ? 
 
 Well, the more she had thought about it, the 
 more she had felt constrained to find out whether 
 Giles had indeed a gun hidden in the faggots ; 
 till at last she could rest no longer, but rushed 
 forth into the dark street with her lanthorn, not 
 yet lighted, and made for the lane by which she 
 had returned in the afternoon. 
 
 It was not yet late enough for the chapel-goers 
 to meet her ; the streets were silent and deserted ; 
 most of the folk were still at tea or sitting round 
 the fire. 
 
 As she passed along she heard in one house loud 
 voices, and said to herself, "There's Joe Fletcher 
 arguing with his wife." From another she heard the 
 dismal strains of a harmonium, and said, "Poor 
 Miss Smith ! she's going through her four Sunday 
 tunes." But, as a rule, there was a deep silence 
 within and without, and when she left behind her 
 the lights of the last house, she began to feel some- 
 thing akin to fear. 
 
 Yet was not the lane quite dark, for the snow 
 on the road reflected a pale light which served 
 to direct her steps, and before she had reached the 
 woods she turned to look at the sea, and saw a 
 
 H 
 
98 VELVETEENS. 
 
 beautiful silver beam illuminating the distant waters. 
 Presently from the edge of a fleecy cloud the bright 
 moon stole out and swam into the blue, making 
 the whole scene, ocean, cliffs, red-bricked town, 
 black wood, and sparkling snow, as clear as though 
 they had been seen in daylight. Then she moved 
 forward, with her long shadow stalking before her, 
 and the idle lanthorn flapping and tinkling as it 
 swayed with every step she took. 
 
 Soon she had reached the cart-track which crossed 
 the moor, and went in the shade of the high hedge 
 up the long ascent, and, whenever she stopped to 
 take breath, she could hear little noises in the 
 heather or along the hedge sometimes a rustle, as 
 of a weasel in pursuit of a rabbit ; sometimes a bird 
 stirring uneasily on its perch ; sometimes a distant 
 squeak, as of some victim caught by a blood- 
 thirsty foe. 
 
 And yet above all floated the silver moon, so 
 majestically calm and beautiful ; it seemed to her 
 as if God in heaven cared not how cruel were the 
 creatures of earth. Perhaps, she thought, he cares 
 not whether Giles turns out a bad man or a 
 good man, cares not whether I suffer a whole life 
 of misery, or whether I am happy and blessed. 
 God is so far off, woman is so small and weak, 
 not worth His notice : He has greater things to 
 think of. 
 
 Poor Minnie ! she knew well enough that she 
 was wrong, she felt in her heart that this was all 
 a lie : but to-night she could not help being a little 
 bitter ; somehow things were going wrong with her, 
 and she knew not why ; she had a feeling that Giles 
 would never turn from his bad ways, and a sense of 
 loneliness and despair was coming over her. Pre- 
 sently she drew near the faggot-stack with a beating 
 heart, and stole on tiptoe across the frozen heath 
 
THE SEARCtf. 99 
 
 towards the great shadow which it cast upon the 
 snow. She had to stoop and peer about before she 
 found an entrance at one end, just large enough for 
 one person to enter at a time. It was dark within, 
 but luckily she had her lanthorn ; soon its red light 
 was contrasting with the pale moonbeams outside, 
 and she began to look carefully for any signs of con- 
 cealed treasure. There was nothing to be seen ; she 
 began to think the men must have returned for their 
 guns. But still she went on trying the faggots, to 
 see if any of the bundles were loose, and at last she 
 pulled one out easily, and, on holding the lanthorn 
 to the hole which she had made, she discerned the 
 butts of three guns. 
 
 With trembling hands she pulled them out and 
 carefully examined them. Yes, they had marks on 
 them, but they were figures of animals ; one had a 
 fish, the second was decorated with a dog's head, 
 the third had a figure of a seal upon it. But why 
 did Minnie Fletcher start when she saw the rude 
 engraving of the seal ? 
 
 Because it reminded her of a little trifle in her 
 childhood : many years ago she had amused the 
 company gathered round her mother's fire by saying, 
 " I like Cousin Giles's eyes, mother, because they are 
 just like the seal's that the men from Lynn brought 
 round last summer." The good folk had laughed at 
 the time, and Giles was often called " Minnie's seal," 
 and would tease her by asking if she should carry 
 him round, when she was a big girl, for the neigh- 
 bours to stare at. 
 
 All this came back to her when she looked upon 
 the figure of the seal, and made her feel very miser- 
 able. She had not much doubt now that the gun 
 belonged to Giles. Now, what should she do? Should 
 she leave the gun there, or carry it back to Giles 
 and accuse him of having deceived her ? But, she re- 
 
100 VELVETEENS. 
 
 fleeted, though the gun was his, she could not prove 
 that he had been using it ; some one else might 
 have had it out to-day. In fact, she felt sure that 
 Giles would not have told her a lie ; when she 
 recalled his tender words she reproached herself 
 for suspecting him for a moment. What, then, was 
 she to do ? 
 
 A sudden thought shot into her brain. She re- 
 placed the other guns, hid the shortened fowling- 
 piece under her cloak, blew out the lanthorn, and 
 left the faggot-heap, striding swiftly over the crisp 
 tufts of heather, and descending the hill. But when 
 she reached the lane, she turned inland, away from 
 her home ! 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE CLUE. 
 
 [I was a narrow lane between high banks 
 which Minnie had chosen. There were 
 woods on either side, and the moon had 
 not yet risen high enough to peep with 
 genial face into that dark recess. 
 Minnie trudged along rather slowly, for the gun 
 under her cloak and the lanthorn in her hand made 
 walking uphill rather hard work. But she had an 
 idea, and was bent on carrying it out : and when 
 a Fletcher gets hold of an idea, it takes a mighty 
 strong will to thwart it ; for it seems to have fangs, 
 like a double tooth, which reach down into the very 
 depths of will and conscience. 
 
 At last she emerged from the protecting banks 
 upon the top of the moor, where the snow was spark- 
 ling about the gorse and heather in the brightest of 
 moonbeams. Here four roads crossed, and Minnie 
 turned sharp to the right down the road which led 
 direct to Beckthorp. It was easier now, but rather 
 slippery, for the road wound round in its downward 
 course between sandy banks fringed with gorse and 
 
102 VELVETEENS. 
 
 yellow bracken. Soon she reached the sleepy village. 
 Not a soul was stirring in the street ; the church, 
 too, was dark, for there was no evening service. 
 By the churchyard she turned up to the left, and 
 climbed the hill that led to the gamekeeper's 
 lodge. 
 
 Yes, there was a light burning in the window. 
 Quietly she shut the gate and crossed the little bridge 
 that spanned the stream, and, as she drew near the 
 lodge, the sound of singing struck upon her ear. 
 Was there company within ? if so, she must return. 
 She stopped and listened. She could hear two voices, 
 a man's and a woman's ; they were singing a Christ- 
 mas hymn "On earth peace, and good will to 
 men." 
 
 It was important for Minnie to be assured that no 
 one else was present except Angus Forbes and his 
 sister ; so she stepped across the border, and placed 
 her face close to the diamond panes of the window. 
 Then she saw for a moment Angus standing on one 
 side of the fireplace, and Jean sitting by the 
 table no one else was there. But just as she got 
 close to the window the lanthorn rattled against the 
 stone wall ; then the dogs behind the lodge broke 
 out into angry barking. Angus glanced toward 
 the window, and in a moment dashed across the 
 room towards the door, and almost before Minnie 
 could recover herself and regain the path, a strong 
 hand had clutched her shoulder, and Angus had 
 growled 
 
 "Who are you? What are you doing at my 
 window ? " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Forbes, you hurt me ! " cried the 
 frightened girl. 
 
 " What ! is it Minnie Fletcher ? I ask your pardon, 
 I'm sure. Come in and warm yourself, do ! When 
 I heard the dogs give tongue, I thought sure it was 
 
THE CLUE. 103 
 
 some tramp. Jean, here's Minnie Fletcher come to 
 see you." 
 
 Jean jumped up, saying, "Well, I never! You've 
 given us all a start. But come in, dear. There's 
 something the matter, I doubt ; you're looking 
 scared-like, and as white as a sheet." 
 
 " Let me take the lanthorn," said Angus, and he 
 placed a chair for her near the fire. 
 
 " I'm sorry, neighbours," said Minnie, with a little 
 gasp and half-repressed sob, " I'm very sorry to 
 trouble you on a Sabbath evening, but but 
 The tears were in Minnie's eyes now, and she could 
 not go on. 
 
 " Get her some of the cordial, Angus," whispered 
 Jean to her brother. 
 
 But when Angus left the room to fetch the cordial, 
 Minnie said, "Kiss me,. Jean, and promise to help me 
 in my trouble." 
 
 With some difficulty Angus prevailed upon the 
 little lips to moisten themselves with a few strength- 
 ening drops. He coaxed and commanded, and at 
 last held her hands as if she had been a struggling 
 dog, reluctant to take proper remedies. 
 
 " Well, now I feel much better I really do ; 
 so sit you down, and let me tell you why I've 
 come." 
 
 " Won't you take your cloak off first ? " asked Jean. 
 
 " Not yet awhile, thank you. What I came here 
 for was to bring you something that I want you to 
 keep for me. Angus Forbes, you know well enough 
 that my Cousin Giles goes out and shoots the Squire's 
 hares and rabbits ? " 
 
 Angus nodded, and looked very grave. 
 
 " He's not a bad lad at heart, Giles isn't ; but 
 he can't keep the good resolves he makes. He 
 falls into temptation, and forgets himself, and all 
 his promises are broken before he can think twice 
 
104 VELVETEENS. 
 
 about it. Tis a thousand pities to see a fine young 
 lad go to his ruin and he's my cousin." 
 
 "Aye, and something nearer than a cousin/' mur- 
 mured Angus. 
 
 Minnie took no notice of the interruption. 
 
 "You saw him out walking with me this after- 
 noon, when some of his pals were poaching about 
 yonder. I want to keep him steady ; I want to 
 save him from disgrace and the gaol, and and 
 I thought one good thing would be if I could get 
 his gun and remove it from harm's way, and I've 
 got it." 
 
 " Did he give it you of his freewill ? " asked 
 Jean. 
 
 "No, I found out where he kept it, and I took 
 it ; and see, here it is ! I've had it under my cloak 
 all along." 
 
 Thus saying, she laid it down in two pieces on the 
 table. 
 
 Angus reached out his hand, and fitted the butt 
 end on to the barrel without saying a word. 
 
 Minnie rose to go. " I shall think it very kind of 
 you, Mr. Forbes, if you will take care of that gun for 
 me. It may be doing something to keep a young 
 man out of trouble ; and you'll not regret that, will 
 you ? " And she held out her hand. 
 
 Angus pressed it as he replied, " The piece shall 
 be safe with me, and no one shall be the wiser, Miss 
 Fletcher," laying an emphasis on Miss. " I don't 
 feel sorry to try and save a young man from ruin, 
 but I'd a deal rather save a young woman from 
 taking a step a rash step which may land her in a 
 lifelong sorrow. Oh, Minnie, why will you not love 
 me?" 
 
 "Ask Jean about a girl's feelings, Angus. She 
 will tell you that we can't put our affections just 
 where we like can we, Jean ? Sometimes we love 
 
THE CLUE. 105 
 
 the least worthy ; and perhaps God makes us that 
 silly, so that haply our love may lift the weaker one 
 into a higher walk a better way." 
 
 " That's fine preaching, Minnie," said Angus, sadly. 
 " However, if you can't love me, there's no help for 
 it. All I can say is, if ever Minnie Fletcher wants 
 a friend in her need, she has only got to call here, 
 and I'm ready to go through fire and water for 
 her." 
 
 "Thank you, my dear, good friend, thank 
 you a thousand times and Jean. Good night ; 
 I must go." 
 
 "Poor thing! her eyes were full of tears," said 
 Jean, "and I almost thought she was a-going to 
 kiss you her face came so near yours." 
 
 Angus replied by a heavy sigh. 
 
 He sat down by the table, and leaned his face 
 against his hands, suffering in silence for many 
 minutes ; and if ever Jean spoke to him in a 
 soothing voice he gave but little heed, till she 
 went up to him, and put her hand on his shoulder, 
 saying 
 
 " Don't take on like that, Angus. I can't bear to 
 see it. If she likes Giles Fletcher best, she is no fit 
 wife for you." 
 
 "Don't say that!" said Angus, passionately ; "don't 
 speak a word against Minnie. I know she's too 
 good for me, but I can't bear that slippery liar, Giles 
 Fletcher, getting her that's too much for me. Poor 
 little Minnie ! Poor girl ! " 
 
 Jean was surprised by her brother's outburst. He 
 who was generally so self-contained seemed quite 
 carried away by his feelings. His eyes looked wild 
 and cruel. Jean saw the fire of jealousy burning 
 in them, and it frightened her. 
 
 She opened her Bible, and began to read. An 
 hour went by, and still Angus sat with his elbows 
 
106 VELVETEENS. 
 
 on the table and his face buried in his hands. Then 
 she got up, and said softly 
 
 "Brother, I'm going to bed. I shall not forget in 
 my prayers to ask our Heavenly Father to give you 
 comfort." 
 
 Angus lifted his head, and replied 
 
 "Jean, you're a good girl; but I doubt I'm past 
 praying for. I feel as if a devil had got possession 
 of me." 
 
 " Heaven help you in your trouble, dear. Think 
 of other people's sorrows, and your own will seem 
 smaller. Do nothing rash, Angus ; but remember 
 little Willie and me." 
 
 " Aye, aye, lass ; and poor father too ! " 
 
 Jean went to her room, but she left the door ajar 
 that she might hear if Angus went out. 
 
 Jean's room was upstairs ; Angus and Willie slept 
 in a room leading out of their sitting-room, which was 
 also the kitchen. Angus was muttering to himself. 
 Something in the sound of his father's name had 
 stirred thoughts within him. He glanced sharply 
 round the room, as if the very suspicion which had 
 crossed his brain was too dreadful to betray to 
 another. All was quiet ; Willie was sleeping peace- 
 fully in the next room he could hear his regular 
 breathing. 
 
 " My poor father ! what if Bah ! I am going 
 mad. It is impossible ! Father ! father ! who was 
 thy murderer ? God, give me the means of finding 
 out the wretch who shot my poor father. Ah ! I 
 have been too careless about this ; I have let thy 
 blood grow cold on the ground, father. And now 
 I turn like stone all over, and shiver like a child, I 
 don't know why. But a dreadful suspicion has come 
 to me. I have no reason for it none at all. I 
 believe it is prompted by the devil. I will struggle 
 against it. No ; I can do better than that I can 
 disprove it in a moment." 
 
THE CLUE. ID/ 
 
 Thus muttering to himself, Angus Forbes shook 
 back the disordered hair from his face, set his lips 
 firmly, and took up Giles Fletcher's gun, turning it 
 round and examining the barrel with a keen glance. 
 Hardly had he taken it up when he dropped it with 
 a heavy thud upon the table. 
 
 "What's that?" cried Jean, from the top of the 
 stairs. 
 
 " Nothing, lass, nothing ; I only dropped some- 
 thing. Good night." 
 
 But Angus had turned white as he sat back 
 in his chair ; then he pulled his handkerchief out 
 of his pocket, and wiped the sweat from his fore- 
 head. 
 
 "What must be, must be," he murmured, as he 
 slowly stood up to reach something from the 
 ceiling. 
 
 It was the ram-rod which had been found by his 
 father's body in the fir wood, and which had been 
 nailed to the great oak beam that crossed the 
 ceiling. 
 
 With hands that trembled a little, Angus turned 
 the gun round. It had a makeshift ram-rod! 
 Would this ram-rod fit ? He hoped not yes, he 
 devoutly hoped not now. It would be too dreadful 
 to find that Giles had been the murderer of his 
 father, that Minnie had been the innocent betrayer 
 of her lover ! 
 
 The gun had been shortened in the barrel for 
 convenience in carrying it under the coat : the ram- 
 rod had had a piece cut off one end ; it exactly 
 fitted ! 
 
 Angus put the gun down on the table, and sat 
 down to think. Who was the murderer, then ? 
 Was it Giles ? It looked very much as if Giles's 
 gun had done the deed. But still there was room 
 for doubt : some one else might have taken his 
 
IOS VELVETEENS. 
 
 gun ; one of his friends, who knew where the gun 
 was kept, might have borrowed it. 
 
 Why should Giles kill the keeper ? He owed him 
 no grudge at all. There was no motive apparent ; 
 it was most improbable. A doubt once more came 
 into the young man's mind ; if nearly all poachers 
 used shortened guns, then this ram-rod need not 
 necessarily belong to this gun. 
 
 He again took up the gun and examined it care- 
 fully ; there was a fish, or seal, or something cut 
 on the stock : he now examined the ram-rod the 
 same fish, or seal, was found there ! 
 
 Then the ram-rod belonged to Giles's gun ! 
 
 Angus sighed, and tried to think what he should 
 do. As he shut his eyes, he seemed to see his father 
 in the wood pointing to the blood on the ground, 
 and saying, "Avenge this, my son, if thou lovest 
 me." 
 
 Angus shuddered at the thought. 
 
 Again he seemed to see the pale face of Minnie 
 Fletcher, and her large black eyes were fixed re- 
 proachfully upon him. She kept on saying, "You 
 have brought my love to the gallows ! You have 
 ruined all my life." 
 
 And again he saw himself walking down the 
 street, and could hear the neighbours whispering, as 
 he passed, " There goes young Mr. Forbes, the man 
 who got Giles Fletcher hanged for murder. Why 
 did he do it, do you say ? Out of jealousy. They 
 both loved the same young woman." 
 
 For nearly an hour he sat, pondering over the 
 thoughts that came to him, as duty, filial love, 
 jealousy, alternately mastered his mind. He might 
 have sat there all night, but that he heard Jean 
 stirring in the room above ; so he hastily rose and 
 replaced the ram-rod by the joist, and, when she 
 called lightly down the staircase 
 
THE CLUE. 
 
 109 
 
 the night or 
 
 "Arc you going to bed, Angus, 
 no?" 
 
 " Faith, lass," he called back, " I must ha' been 
 dreaming. I'll sit up no longer to fright you wi' my 
 vagaries ! I'm just off to bed, Jean. The fire's safe 
 and the windows are fast. I'm just oflf now. Good 
 night, lass." 
 
mimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiin 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 THE HEDGER'S STORY. 
 
 NGUS FORBES had plenty to do out 
 in the fields and woods, so that the 
 terrible suspicion did not weigh on him 
 so heavily as it would do on one who 
 led a less active life. Yet he carried the 
 secret about with him wherever he went, and it cast a 
 gloom on his life just now. The spring was coming, 
 the pheasant broods must be thought of, coops must 
 be painted and got ready, faggots must be placed 
 for the young broods to run to if a hawk came 
 sailing by, and grain had to be sown in the clearings 
 between the copses to attract the pheasants and keep 
 them together. Willie often accompanied his brother, 
 when school was over, and vastly enjoyed himself, 
 climbing trees for eggs or young squirrels. Willie's 
 tongue wagged fast on the subject of finches in the 
 hedge, or missel-thrushes in the park, or tomtits in 
 the loose mortar of the ha-ha wall, and he often 
 silently wondered to himself why Angus was so glum 
 and silent. The very dogs that followed obedient at 
 his heel seemed to discover a difference in their 
 master's behaviour ; one would whine and nose his 
 hand, another would look up sideways into his face 
 
THE HEDGER'S STORY. in 
 
 with a wistful gaze, and then with a sigh would 
 return to heel. 
 
 Angus went about his work without taking any 
 step, or knowing indeed what step to take. 
 
 But one afternoon, as he was looking at an old 
 man cutting a hedge, he heard something which 
 startled him. 
 
 "Well, George," he had said, "don't you slash 
 all the young saplings ; but when you come across 
 one, cut away the bushes on each side to give it 
 room, do ye hear ? " 
 
 "Aye, Mr. Forbes ; I ha' done this job nigh fifty 
 year now, I reckon. What ! get away, you sniffing 
 brute ; do you remember the taste you got o' my 
 arm yonder ? " 
 
 The mastiff bitch had jumped across the ditch, 
 and was vigorously sniffing round the man's legs. 
 
 " What, George ! she surely hasn't bitten you ? " 
 
 "Let bygones be bygones with dogs and men, 
 say I. I've knowed this bitch from a puppy, and she 
 oughtn't to ha' bitten me by rights. However, we 
 all make mistakes sometimes, master." 
 
 The old man turned to his work, and slashed away 
 as if to make up for time wasted, making believe 
 to hum a psalm tune the while. But Angus, having 
 his thoughts always on one subject, had noticed the 
 old man's confusion. He stood for some minutes 
 rapt in thought. Old George had been noted in his 
 young days as a poacher ; he was suspected even 
 now of having a sneaking kindness that way. Now 
 the mastiff bitch was never allowed out with any 
 one but himself; his father had kept her in the 
 kennel unless he had taken her out himself. When 
 could she have bitten George, then ? 
 
 He remembered that on the fatal night when 
 his father was murdered, this bitch followed on the 
 track of the murderer. Was George, then, the villain 
 
112 VELVETEENS. 
 
 who had robbed him of his beloved father? It 
 looked like it, certainly. George had doubtless taken 
 Giles Fletcher's gun from its hiding-place ; it was old 
 George who had, perhaps for some harsh words, so 
 cruelly shot his father. As this conclusion pressed 
 itself upon him, he felt his heart throb, and a fierce 
 desire came upon him to set the mastiff upon the 
 old scoundrel, and see her tear his throat out. But 
 he clenched his fist, and breathed hard, and said 
 nothing. When, at last, George turned round to 
 look at the man who stood there so long watching 
 him, the stern, set mouth, the angry eyes frightened 
 him. 
 
 " Oh, Lor', Mr. Forbes, how you do look at un ! " 
 
 "I am trying hard to restrain my just anger, 
 George. I am trying to keep my hand from killing 
 you." 
 
 The old man dropped his bill-hook, as if he had 
 been shot ; his lower jaw fell, and he stared wildly. 
 
 " What would you do if you were in my place ? 
 What would you do if you saw before you the 
 murderer of your father ? " 
 
 "There! I thought you was at that, sir, I did 
 indeed. Don't look like that, Mr. Angus Forbes ; 
 you frighten me. I can explain all I've ever done 
 I can so, sir." 
 
 "Come across the ditch, and speak the truth- 
 ay, speak the truth, and I'll never hand you over to 
 the police. But if I catch you lying, this bitch shall 
 bury her fangs in your windpipe. Now, do you 
 understand me ? " 
 
 " I do, sir, I do. Oh that I should live to see the 
 day ! But what can I do ? You don't want me to 
 tell no names ? " 
 
 "Tell me first how the bitch got hold of you." 
 
 The old man looked down, then, out of his eye- 
 corners : he was evidently seeking for a lie that 
 
THE HEDGER'S STORY. 113 
 
 would save him and his friends ; he coughed and 
 spat, and coughed again. 
 
 " Very well," said Angus ; " I see you don't mean 
 telling me the truth this side o' midsummer, so I 
 will put the matter in the hands of the police. I 
 think you will swing for it, George. You see, there's 
 no other time that this bitch could have bitten you, 
 except the night my father was shot: that looks 
 bad for you, doesn't it ? And I'll tell you something 
 more : you borrowed a gun that night, and you 
 dropped the ram-rod ; there was a mark on the 
 ram-rod, and there was the same mark on the gun. 
 I've got the gun, and I know whose it is." 
 
 George started at this, and muttered, half to him- 
 self, " If he knows who 'tis, it won't be splitting if 
 I tell un." 
 
 " You can do as you like about telling me ; it is 
 against you that the strongest evidence now lies." 
 
 George broke out into a sweat, great beads stood 
 on his forehead, and he visibly trembled with excite- 
 ment. 
 
 " Mr. Forbes, you won't say I've gone and peached 
 now ! " 
 
 "Certainly not. Speak the truth, and no harm 
 shall come to you for it." 
 
 "You won't have un run in for the unfortunate 
 job?" 
 
 " I shall give no promise of that kind. If you 
 make your friends amongst murderers, you must 
 expect some of them to come to untimely ends." 
 
 " Well, sir, it was this how ; but I needn't 
 name no names to-day, if you please." 
 
 " Go on ; if it suits me, I shall ask you for the 
 name." 
 
 " I'd a deal rather be shot in the leg than split 
 on un ; howiver, it was this how. I 'ad come out to 
 see a hare snicked by some of our young chaps, and 
 
 I 
 
114 VELVETEENS. 
 
 I was standing top o' yon hill when a young fellow 
 came running up straight towards me, he did ; and 
 just as 
 
 " Stop ! had there been any shot fired in the wood 
 then?" 
 
 George examined his boot, and saw an opening 
 for a lie. 
 
 "Oh no ; not a shot had been fired, that I'll 
 swear ! " 
 
 " All right ; go on with your tale." 
 
 " Well, mister, just as the young chap was gotten 
 nigh where I was, I saw this 'ere bitch following, 
 
 muzzle down, and " 
 
 \ " Stop, you wicked liar ! " shouted Angus, seizing 
 him by the throat, and nearly throttling him, while 
 the mastiff sprang at him and knocked him clean 
 over. 
 
 " Down, bitch, down ! There, you're not much 
 hurt ; but I warn you, you must tell me no more 
 lies." 
 
 "Blessed if it was a lie, mister. Why do you say 
 'twas a lie ? " 
 
 " Because this bitch was held in a leather leash 
 till the keeper was shot. I then let her go after 
 the murderer." 
 
 A low whistle came from George's white lips ; it 
 evidently meant that, for his part, he gave up the 
 game. 
 
 " Now, I hope, mister, you don't think I told that 
 lie to save my own neck. No ; it was to save young 
 him I, mean, as the gun belonged to." 
 
 " Ah yes ; you mean Giles Fletcher." 
 
 "Well, I'm gormed! if you don't know every 
 mortal thing ! " 
 
 " I told you I had his gun, George. Go on with 
 your tale." 
 
 "Yes, just as Giles was close to me, up comes the 
 
THE HEDGER'S STORY. US 
 
 bitch, and jumps up about his shoulders. Lor', what 
 a screech he gave, to be sure ! But I seized her by 
 her collar, and was dragging her off when she bit me 
 i' the arm. Look ! you can see the blamed scar now. 
 Then we tied her to a tree, and left her. And I'm 
 strange and sorry I ever had owt to do wi' that job. 
 Mr. Forbes the old un was as nice't a gentleman 
 as ever broke a dog. I was that sorry when I heard 
 un had shot un as if it 'ad been my own son. Not 
 but what it was an accident, in course. Why 
 should any one wish to kill the keeper ? " 
 
 A wave of tender feeling rushed over Angus, 
 and choked him. Ah ! why should any one desire 
 to kill his father? Had he not been kindness 
 itself to everybody who needed help or comfort 
 in time of trouble ? When he could, he stammered 
 out 
 
 " How many guns had you out that night ? " 
 
 " Only that one, sir, leastways," he corrected him- 
 self on reflection, " there might have been more, so 
 there might." 
 
 "Well, I suppose there's nothing more to be got 
 from you to-day. Now, shall you go straight to 
 Giles Fletcher, and tell him he's suspected of the 
 murder ? " 
 
 " Not I ! He would say, * Who's been splitting on 
 me ? ' I shan't take no more notice of what we've 
 been saying than a child's doll." 
 
 "I should advise you to keep your mouth shut, 
 George. I'm glad to find you didn't do it, but it's 
 a terrible thing to think that young Fletcher 
 
 " It is, sir ; not but what it might ha' been 
 any one else, you know, we munna jump at it 
 like." 
 
 "He dropped his ram-rod by my father's body, 
 George." 
 
 " I forgot that, mister. H'm ! it's getting rather 
 
Il6 VELVETEENS. 
 
 ' queer story ' now ; and I am so wooden-headed, 
 I'm afraid of saying owt for fear I should mak' 
 things worsen If I may, mister, I'd like to go on 
 plashing that there hedge. I'm never satisfied 
 when I'm gossiping about." 
 
 " No, you're a whining old hypocrite and a 
 liar," thought Angus, as he called the mastiff and 
 walked away. 
 
 " She would let a little more light into the story," 
 he said to himself, as he swung over the heather, 
 " if I were to take her down and let her see Giles 
 Fletcher. I wonder if the bitch would take any 
 notice of him now ! I must contrive to let her get 
 sight of him before long." 
 
 The young gamekeeper went back to the tall 
 wood where his father had lain. He sat down on 
 a fallen tree near the sacred spot, and rested his 
 hot forehead on one hand, remaining so long motion- 
 less that a hare cantered before him quite uncon- 
 cernedly, and two young rabbits frolicked before 
 his eyes, and then sat up and washed their faces in 
 the prettiest way imaginable. Yet he sat pondering 
 on the moral problem which was making his heart 
 ache. It was here his father was shot ; there had 
 been the blood-stains, and they called loudly on him 
 for his avenging arm. If Giles was the murderer, 
 as it seemed only too probable, ought he not to 
 denounce him at once ? Ought he to allow Minnie 
 to marry a murderer? Ought he not to save her 
 from so fearful a fate ? 
 
 Yet, again, if he should be mistaken, and if Giles 
 should be accused by him in vain, would not people 
 say he had sought to destroy a rival by wicked 
 slander ? 
 
 Angus sighed to himself as he saw difficulties 
 arise in whatever course he might take. 
 
 " I must wait," he thought, " and seek more light, 
 
THE HEDGER'S STORY. 117 
 
 stronger evidence. Giles may be innocent ; God 
 grant he may ! " 
 
 Above his head the wood-pigeons cooed and made 
 love ; all nature seemed happy and at peace. He 
 said to himself, " Yes, it is true man alone is vile." 
 Then the mastiff came and put her nose into his 
 hand, startling him out of his brown study. He rose 
 from his moss-grown seat, and set his face towards 
 the hill and home. It was better, at all events, to 
 be up and stirring, doing the day's duty manfully, 
 rather than sitting down to meditate on to-morrow's 
 possibilities. He felt this ; he determined to bide 
 his time, and see what more could be gleaned from 
 the field of observation. But, though he resolved 
 to throw off care and play the man, none the less 
 did the smile die out of his eye and the dimple 
 fade from his cheek. Jean noticed the change in 
 him, and, sighing quietly, made no remark. Little 
 Willie grumbled to himself and to the puppies. 
 
 " Angus ain't up to any games now. That comes 
 o' wearing father's velveteens, drat 'em ! I don't 
 see why folks should give over playing games when 
 they grows up ; do you, puppy ? I shan't. That's 
 why so few folk tries to be good, I know ; 'cos 
 the old folks makes out there's no games up 
 yonder." And Willie lifted his eyes slightingly to 
 the scudding cloud. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 GEORGE PLAYS A TRUMP CARD. 
 
 FEW evenings after Angus had had the 
 talk with old George, Giles Fletcher 
 strolled in to see what was going on in 
 the Jolly-boats Tavern. 
 
 " Well done, Giles, lad ! yer don't 
 often pay us a visit nowadays too busy sweet- 
 hearting, I reckon." 
 
 Giles smiled one of his handsome smiles, and 
 kissed his hand at the speaker, who looked some- 
 what obscure through the veil of smoke which was 
 curling lazily about the warm room. 
 
 "There's talk of bringing a railway to this 'ere 
 place," said one of the Fletchers, as Giles stirred 
 his grog in the tumbler. 
 
 "Well, I guess we shall reap the benefit of it," 
 said Giles, looking round at the company for the first 
 time. 
 
 " Shall us get a better market for our fish ? " said 
 a weatherbeaten old sailor whose front teeth had 
 gone by the board. 
 
 " Yes, we shall," said Giles ; " and, what's more, 
 it'll fetch a lot of visitors here for us to pluck like 
 pigeons." 
 
GEORGE PLAYS A TRUMP CARD. lip 
 
 "That's all very well for you rich chaps as has 
 apartments to let, and nicknacks on the chimbley- 
 piece, and a pianny to tinkle in the parlour. But 
 what good will they visitors do ussen ?" 
 
 "Anyhow, they'll eat your fish, John; but if 
 this 'ere railway be a coming really, the best 
 thing for every fisherman in Beckthorp would be 
 to sell his boat and tackle and buy a house, or 
 build one. Three hundred pounds will do it, and 
 you can borrow most of it. If you want to be rich, 
 lads, that's the gainest way to make your pile." 
 
 An old grumbler rose in the corner, and, ad- 
 vancing unsteadily to the table with his glass in his 
 hand, remarked, with some emphasis and temper 
 
 " Hang me if I like these 'ere iron roads. We was 
 well enough off afore. What do they want to come 
 and shoot a lot of foreigners on our shore for, I'd 
 like to know ? When we get a train puffing about, 
 folks '11 go away to do their shopping ; they won't 
 buy at my store." 
 
 " Not unless you get in some new cheeses some- 
 times, Ned." 
 
 The conversation then became so personal, the 
 cheese question so virulent, that the landlord had 
 to interfere, and beg the company to be jolly on 
 pain of dismissal. 
 
 " That's right," said Giles ; "we are here to refresh 
 ourselves, not to quarrel over Ned's cheeses. Ned, 
 you shut up your shutters now, and take a bit of 
 advice in good part. There's no doubt that a rail- 
 way makes trade, and those who can soonest fit 
 themselves to new surroundings will prosper most. 
 But, mates, if the railways would lower their rates 
 for parcels, so that country eggs, chicken, crabs, 
 lobsters, fish could go to market right cheap, what 
 a roaring trade we should have ! There's thousands 
 millions of people who are waiting for our 
 
120 VELVETEENS. 
 
 country produce, and can't get it, because the rates 
 are too high." 
 
 " Shame ! " " Why does they do it ? " 
 
 "Aye, boys, they must in time come round to see 
 which side their bread is buttered ; and if they can't 
 rf they're going to stand across the iron road, 
 like Dick Turpin, then I say the Government must 
 step in and buy up the railroads." 
 
 " Well, if that isn't a good un ! " " He be a smart 
 young feller, that!" "Ought to be a member o' 
 Parly-ment, surely!" 
 
 Giles was enjoying the sweet incense of flattery, 
 when he felt some one pulling at his jacket. 
 
 "What's that you said just now about buying a 
 house for tree-hundard pounds neighbour ? " 
 
 Giles turned and saw old George, the hedger, who 
 had been sitting quietly in the corner by the fire. 
 He was in drink. 
 
 " Didn't you hear, old un ? I'm not going to say 
 it again to please a boozey old fool like you." 
 
 " Oh ! is that it ? " said George, in a superior tone ; 
 "but I'm not so boozed as not to know who I'm 
 a-speaking to." 
 
 "Well, go and lie down, and don't trouble your 
 betters." 
 
 " My betters, indeed ! I'll larn you to speak 
 respectful, young man, afore I've done with you, 
 remember Maister Forbes ! " 
 
 Giles started. The man was in liquor, certainly, 
 but he might do a great deal of harm if he set 
 people thinking that Giles Fletcher was the man 
 who shot the gamekeeper. 
 
 " Do yer hear, young Giles Fletcher ? You've got 
 to keep a civil tongue in yer head when you speaks 
 to the likes o' me. Why shouldn't I have a tree- 
 hundard pound house as well as the rest o' 'em ? 
 You'll ha' to lend me some money, young tin." 
 
GEORGE PLAYS A TRUMP CARD. 121 
 
 "All right. George, don't speak so loud. If you 
 want to talk to me about money, go on the cliff 
 west'ard, and I'll come to you." 
 
 George was sober enough to see that he could 
 make his bargain better when no one was by ; and 
 he did not want to get Giles into any trouble about 
 the keeper. He had a shrewd suspicion that Giles 
 had fired the fatal shot, but he could not feel sure 
 about it. He had never said anything to Giles 
 about it before to-night, and it was only the extra 
 tumbler that had made him daring enough to hint 
 at it. However, the thing was done now ; so he 
 slowly rose to depart, smiling to himself an imbe- 
 cile smile of satisfaction, and feeling proud of his 
 position of superiority over Giles Fletcher. 
 
 " Depend upon it," he muttered to himself, when 
 he got outside, "there's something in it, or he 
 wouldn't take the trouble to meet me on the cliff 
 and talk things over." 
 
 Giles waited a decent while, and then followed 
 George ; but he was turning hot and cold and 
 shivering with terror, for he felt that this old man 
 held his fate in the hollow of his hand ; the night- 
 mare of the gallows which had tortured him so 
 often seemed to be coming true. It was nearly dark 
 now, and he had almost touched the stile before he 
 saw George sitting there with his pipe in his mouth. 
 
 " Halloa, George, what do you want with me ? " 
 
 "I've been thinking, Giles Fletcher, that I've 
 known you since ever you was a baby, and I'm not 
 the man to try and get any one as is friendly into 
 trouble not I.' 1 
 
 " But what did you mean by saying, ' Remember 
 Master Forbes ' ? You're in liquor, George, and 
 don't hardly know what you're about. If you said 
 that when you were sober, I should 
 
 " What 'ud yer do ? " snarled George, as the 
 
i$2 VELVETEENS. 
 
 alcohol supplied him with five of courage to one 
 of prudence. 
 
 " Look here, old un, it's cold sitting here. Come 
 up on cliff, and we can walk and keep warm as we 
 talk this out." 
 
 George unsteadily dropped off the stile, and his 
 " one of prudence " led him to walk on the landward 
 side, for he felt like staggering off the cliff when he 
 walked too near. 
 
 They went some hundred yards in silence. The 
 turf was springy and soft, but there were many 
 rabbit-holes difficult to avoid in the gloaming. On 
 their left loomed the dark woods of the Squire ; on 
 their right moaned the grey, restless sea, with a 
 cadence of trailing pebbles. The cliff was getting 
 higher and higher as they ascended the solitary 
 slope of greensward. 
 
 " George, you aren't fit for arguing just now, I 
 reckon ; but you can understand, can't you ? " 
 
 " Aye, lad ; let's hear how much you'll give un." 
 
 " Well, I suppose you mean to let folks think I 
 was the chap who shot Master Forbes, don't you ? J) 
 
 " Not if I can get helped to a nice house, Giles. 
 I'll be the last man in the parish to speak ill of my 
 neighbour." 
 
 " Thank you for nothing ! And suppose I said I 
 would not give you a brass farthing, and you might 
 tell what lies you liked ? they couldn't harm an 
 innocent man." 
 
 " Ah, well ; then it 'ud be mortal hard for you, 
 Giles. I did not see you shoot un, did I ? " 
 
 " No ; you only guess it because you saw me run 
 from the wood, as the other chaps did." 
 
 The beer was preventing prudence from keeping 
 sealed lips ; beer blurted out evidence which the 
 old man had been thinking out and treasuring up, 
 night after night, in the dark corner of the Three 
 
GEORGE PLAYS A TRUMP CARD. 123 
 
 Jolly-boats, day after day, amongst the clinging 
 creepers of the overgrown hedge. 
 
 "Aye, lad ; 'tother chaps ran away very like, 
 but the old bitch she knew fast enough who 'ad 
 killed her maister." 
 
 Giles was taken aback. The evidence of the 
 mastiff was so impartial. He felt that people would 
 be impressQjd by that more than by anything else. 
 
 " Look here, George ; I don't deny that it is a 
 very ugly mistake that hound made. I was near 
 the keeper, and my trail must have crossed Ned 
 no, I won't, even to save my own life, bring 
 another into trouble." 
 
 " Ned say'st thee ? Na, lad, 'twas Giles safe 
 enough, Til up'ode it ; dog isn't no fool, though he 
 be no scholar." 
 
 " I can't deny that the dog's evidence looks ugly ; 
 but who says the dog chased me ? Why, old 
 George, the hedger! And why does he say it? 
 ' Cause he wants to get money out o' me hush- 
 money ! Folks won't believe it of me ; folks will 
 see through you fast enough, old un." 
 
 " I dunno ! I think I can get some more evidence 
 if I be put to it like j but first I want to know how 
 much you're going to give me to keep my mouth 
 shut?" 
 
 "What do you want, you bad, bothering black- 
 guard?" 
 
 "I want one hundred pounds down, Giles Fletcher; 
 I can manage to borrow the rest, maybe." 
 
 "A hundred pounds! Why, how could I get 
 that from mother without letting her know why I 
 wanted it?" 
 
 "That's not my business. I must ha' the full 
 hundred." 
 
 " Think, George : I am looking forward to getting 
 married. If I were able to give you all that money 
 
124 VELVETEENS. 
 
 out of my savings, it would stop my marriage for 
 years." 
 
 " That's not my business ; you should ha' thought 
 on these 'ere questions afore you let fly at Maister 
 Forbes." 
 
 " You liar ! how dare you say I shot him ! What 
 reason had I to shoot the keeper ? " 
 
 " Well, you can keep the hundred pound, but it's 
 my belief you'll get run in for the job, an' it'll sarve 
 you right." 
 
 " Oh ! it will serve me right, will it ? " 
 
 Giles's voice had grown husky. He asked this 
 question in slow, measured tones. If there had been 
 more light, George, the hedger, would have seen 
 a dangerous glitter in Giles's eyes ; but it was too 
 dusk, and he went on in beery innocence 
 
 " I've al'ays liked you, from a lad, Giles Fletcher ; 
 but you've disgraced yourself now and your poor 
 mother, and I shouldn't wonder if you got took up 
 for murder any day. What's a hundred pounds to 
 the likes o' you ? Say the word, and I'll swear a 
 Bible oath to keep mum about it. You can trust 
 me, Giles ; one hundred pounds shall buy a dead 
 silence." 
 
 " I can do it cheaper," murmured Giles " cheaper 
 that way, and more dependable." 
 
 "What do you say? I'm deaf that side? Oh! 
 oh!" 
 
 There was a heavy thud in the region of old 
 George's stomach, which took most of his breath 
 away ; he was doubled up, and sank on the ground. 
 
 "Say your prayers, you villain," said Giles, stoop- 
 ing over him. "You force me to do it. I can't 
 trust your Bible oath, you know ; but I can trust a 
 dead silence." 
 
 George was utterly unable to speak ; all the breath 
 was out of him, and he gasped convulsively. 
 
GILES . . . PEEPED OVER TO SEE HOW OLD GEORGE GOT ON IN HIS 
 
 DOWNWARD FLIGHT. Page 12$. 
 
GEORGE PLAYS A TRUMP CARD. 125 
 
 " Come along with you," said Giles, dragging the 
 old man by both feet to the edge of the cliff. But 
 when George saw the sheen of the grey water far 
 below, he clung desperately to the young man, and 
 it became necessary to deal him a smashing blow 
 on the head to make him let go. 
 
 Then his head fell back, and in a moment he 
 had glided quietly over the grassy verge, and was 
 gone. 
 
 Giles was a lad of nerve, and he peeped over to 
 see how old George got on in his downward flight. 
 
 It was a sandy cliff, perpendicular halfway down, 
 then came a little jutting piece of damp clay, and 
 then another steep piece, and the big flint boulders 
 at the base. Giles saw George come head first on 
 the clay, turn a summersault, and take a fresh leap 
 for the boulders. He could not see any more, but 
 above the gentle murmur of the distant waves he 
 thought he heard a rustle among the flints. 
 
CHAPTER XVII, 
 
 THE DEAD HAND. 
 
 HEN the first fever of excitement had 
 cooled down, and Giles was aware of 
 the terrible nature of his mad, impulsive 
 act, he buried his face in his hands and 
 shuddered ; then he knelt down, and 
 made excuses for himself to Heaven. Did he think 
 he could deceive the Almighty as he had hitherto 
 deceived his neighbours ? But hark ! the poor 
 fellow is praying now : he had never meant to 
 commit a murder, he says. 
 
 " Lord, forgive me ! He forced me to it, to save 
 my own character. If a man may kill a thief who 
 robs his house, surely it is not a sin to put one 
 away who tries to rob you of your good name ! 
 But I am sorry ; yes, I am very sorry for poor 
 
 George " 
 
 Here he rose from his knees, and looked wildly 
 about him through the advancing gloom ; the sense 
 of loneliness made his hair seem to stand on end, 
 and he felt afraid. 
 
 Presently he crept to the edge of the cliff, and 
 in a hoarse whisper called " George ! " 
 
 There was no sound, no voice, no moan save 
 
THE DEAD HAND. 127 
 
 from the sea ; an uncanny feeling made Giles turn 
 every now and then to see if George was coming 
 up from behind to push him over the cliff. He 
 could not help feeling that George was creeping up 
 behind him, grinning at him horribly with broken 
 head and bleeding face. He could feel some strange 
 power pushing him to the very edge of the crumbling 
 cliff. 
 
 Oh! if he did not at once tear himself away, 
 George's spirit would have his revenge, and thrust 
 him over! 
 
 Giles turned his face towards the land, and fled 
 from the cliff, in horror and remorse, as fast as he 
 could run. 
 
 But it was now nearly dark, and he had not gone 
 far before a rabbit-hole tripped him up, and laid 
 him sprawling on his face, well-nigh stunned by 
 the shock. 
 
 Meanwhile, Minnie had been sitting quietly at 
 home, after a pleasant little tea with Giles's mother, 
 and she was now reviewing in her mind all the nice 
 things she had seen in Giles's house, while the 
 knitting-needles made a gentle applause to every 
 thought, clapping their little foolish hands with 
 every semblance of approval. 
 
 There were two parlours, she said to herself, on 
 the ground-floor, fairly furnished with specimens 
 out of several suites of furniture. There were two 
 oak chairs with leather seats, splendid creations of 
 the last century they were ; by the side of these 
 antiquities were three cane chairs, one of them 
 with larger holes in its bottom than the artist had 
 conceived them ; then there was a waggonette of 
 mahogany with cupboards that locked, a table of 
 rosewood too good to eat upon, and a moth-eaten 
 armchair that had been taken from a wreck, and 
 might have belonged to the King of Spain, so the 
 
128 VELVETEENS. 
 
 villagers said, three hundred years ago. You were 
 requested not to sit down with a bump when you 
 were seen backing in the direction of King Philip. 
 Poor old soul! he had gone on three casters ever 
 since Minnie was a wee child. There was a cabinet 
 in black oak with glass doors, containing treasures 
 of many generations : in it were shells and polished 
 stones, a skull found at low water with a crab inside, 
 some marriage lines nicely sewn on white satin, 
 coins of old time and of foreign lands, scraps of 
 clothes which had belonged to ancestors whom the 
 cruel sea had swallowed up in an untimely hour, 
 letters from the Squire and the Squire's father and 
 grandfather, altogether a very pretty collection 
 of curiosities. And then the linen why, there 
 was enough to start a small hotel with ! The very 
 recollection of the linen, soft and white and thick 
 to the touch, made Minnie's eyes glisten with 
 pleasure. Surely the Forbes family had never 
 possessed such linen ! No ; it was becoming clearer 
 day by day to Minnie Fletcher that her duty to the 
 family demanded the sacrifice of young Forbes. 
 After all, he was a stranger, and Giles was one of 
 themselves. Giles was a good, affectionate boy ; she 
 could surely turn him, and mould him, and make a 
 good man of him. 
 
 So Minnie's thoughts flew on, while the knitting- 
 needles clacked and seemed to cry Godspeed to 
 Giles Fletcher. And just at that moment the door 
 quietly opened, and a white face peered in. Minnie 
 had heard no sound, but the draught made the 
 candle gutter and smoke, and she turned towards 
 the door and saw Giles looking in. 
 
 The light was dim, it was now quite dark out- 
 side, and Minnie had not observed the terror in 
 the young man's eyes. 
 
 " Come in, Giles, if you will, John is painting 
 
THE DEAD HAND. I2p 
 
 the boat, and Aunt Bessie is away for an hour, 
 
 so we can have Mercy on us! Boy, what's 
 
 the matter ? " 
 
 " Nothing nothing ! " stammered Giles, resting 
 a hand on the table, and trying to smile. 
 
 " Nothing ? Then why are you out of breath ? 
 Why is your collar torn and your waistcoat un- 
 buttoned ? Giles ! you have been after the Squire's 
 game again." 
 
 "No, Minnie darling. I have promised you not 
 to do that again, you know. The fact is, I had 
 strolled into the Jolly-boats to hear the news, and 
 one of the chaps there had been taking too much 
 and got noisy, and I helped to put him out. I 
 didn't know he had torn my collar, though. Is it 
 much amiss ? " 
 
 " The button's gone, and you've no neck-tie." 
 
 " Has my neck-tie gone clean gone ? " said Giles, 
 trying hard to conceal the agitation which he felt. 
 For it struck him at once that if his neck-tie was 
 found near old George, he ran a rare risk of being 
 hanged. 
 
 Minnie had got out needle and thread, and 
 began at once to sew on a new button. Her nimble 
 fingers touched his throat, her sweet face was close 
 to his ; but Giles, with ashy cheeks and lack-lustre 
 eye, felt no thrill of pleasure. His heart was sick 
 and faint with a deadly fear. 
 
 Minnie tried to rally him, never suspecting what 
 coward hue it was that veiled the natural ruddiness 
 of his cheek. When she had finished her task, she 
 pinched his cheek, and said 
 
 " There, foolish boy ; that's done, and never a 
 poor ' Thank you/ not a word, not even the ghost 
 of a smile to reward me for my pains. What is it, 
 Giles ? Are you ill ? " 
 
 "No ; but I have had a fall running in the dark, 
 
 K 
 
130 VELVETEENS. 
 
 you know, and I feel shaken. My dear, sweet 
 Minnie, I wish I were more worthy to be your lover. 
 You don't know how bad I am ! Oh dear ! oh 
 dear!" 
 
 Giles had sunk down with a heavy sigh, and 
 buried his face in his hands. 
 
 Minnie did then feel alarm. Something serious, 
 she knew, must have happened to unman Giles 
 Fletcher. 
 
 " What shall I get you, Giles ? You seem faint." 
 
 " Have you a drop of brandy in the house ? " 
 
 " I fear we haven't ; but I will run over to the 
 Crab and get you a little. Sit you down in Aunt 
 Bessie's armchair. I won't be many minutes gone." 
 In a trice Minnie had put her shawl over her 
 head and tripped up the street. Giles lay back and 
 groaned. The fall had shaken him, but the fear 
 of the hangman was clutching at his heart, and had 
 taken all the power out of his legs. He could not 
 have left the village that night, even if his reso- 
 lution had been taken so to do ; he felt utterly 
 prostrated by anxiety and craven fear. 
 
 There was a snick, the front-door latch went up. 
 Minnie must have been very quick. No, it was 
 Aunt Bessie ; he could hear her muttering to her- 
 self. She came in, looking rather haggard and wild. 
 
 "What! thou, Giles Fletcher! Thou here! Let 
 me see thee, lad ; let me look thee full i' the face. 
 Ha ! God ha' mercy on thy sinful career ; it is as 
 I knew it was." 
 
 " What's the matter, Aunt Bessie ? " asked Giles, 
 with staring eyes ; " and why do you speak so 
 strange ? " 
 
 "Because I have seen strange things to-night, 
 lad. Where is thy red-and-white neck-tie gone to ? 
 Where is it? Whose clammy hand clutches it? 
 Ha! ha! I thought I could get thee out of my 
 
THE DEAD HAND. 131 
 
 chair fast enough, lad. Now, thou hast a queer 
 feeling about the roots o' thy hair, hasn't tha' ? " 
 
 "Aunt Bessie," said Giles, with quivering lip, 
 "for Heaven's sake don't talk so loud, but sit thee 
 down and tell me what makes thee so wild to-night, 
 quick, afore Minnie comes back ; and mind ! 
 not a word to her." 
 
 " Oh, if Minnie is coming in, let us be gone at 
 once, for I have sum'mut to say to thee, Giles, and 
 very like thou wouldst not quite like her to hear 
 every word on it. We had better go to your mother's 
 house : she be not in the kitchen, as I know ; for 
 I called there just now." 
 
 It was but a few steps to Mrs. Fletcher's house. 
 The kitchen was empty, save for a black cat that sat 
 glaring into the dark by the fire. The light shone 
 fitfully from the grate, and ever and anon lit up 
 transient flashes and scintillations from burnished 
 bowl and polished saucer round the darkened walls, 
 while the next moment all was mirk and sombre 
 and gloom all except the large eyes of the black 
 cat, which shone like two yellow night-lights that 
 had been left by the fender and forgotten. 
 
 "Sit thee down, Giles, and bide quiet while I 
 speak." 
 
 Aunt Bessie poked the fire, and, when a bright 
 light streamed on Giles's pale face and parted lips, 
 she began suddenly 
 
 "Why didst thou push yonder old man over the 
 cliff?" 
 
 It was no use for Giles to deny now ; she must 
 have seen it, or she could not have asked that 
 question: nevertheless, his tongue clave to his mouth, 
 and he could answer nothing. 
 
 "Tell me why thou didst it, Giles, or I will go 
 straight to the police and give evidence that will 
 hang thee." 
 
132 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " He threatened me ; I did it in self-defence. 
 He was mad drunk. I'll swear a solemn oath I had 
 no grudge against him ; it was all of a sudden-like. 
 He was over the edge and twirling round like a 
 loose rope before I knew what was up. But how 
 did you see it ? and what's that you said just now 
 about my neck-tie and George's clammy hand ? " 
 
 Aunt Bessie, as she stood up, tall and silent by 
 the fire, seemed to be lost in thought. The ticking 
 of the eight-day clock sounded very loud to Giles, as 
 he strained his attention and trembled and shivered 
 with anxious fear. 
 
 " Giles, I might to-day have saved thee from the 
 gallows ; but I remembered thou used to make fun 
 of me going down to meet my poor husband on the 
 stones yonder, and I never forget those who sneer 
 at my hope, my only joy in life." Aunt Bessie's eyes 
 glowed like fire opposite to the cat's. "No, thou 
 need na make excuses, nor thou need na try to get 
 up and run down to pluck tha' neck-tie from old 
 George's grasp. It's too late, I tell thee." 
 
 Giles fell back with a groan. 
 
 " It's too late for that now. This is how it was, 
 lad. I was coming home under the cliff, when I 
 see a bundle of clothes on the stones above high- 
 water mark. I goes up, and finds it look like a 
 man bunched up all of a heap. ' Who's yon/ I says, 
 'as has fallen over the cliff?' So I takes out my 
 matchbox, and strikes a match out goes the match 
 in the wind ; this time, thinks I, we'll be more 
 careful with our matches, so I goes to windward and 
 spreads out my dress a little like this and stoops 
 to light my second match. It was old George, sure 
 enough ; his eyes open, but I reckon he didn't see 
 me. When I lifted him a bit, his head fell over 
 sideways, as if his neck-bone had been drawn out, 
 poor fellow. Well, Giles, I didn't turn at the sight 
 
THE DEAD HAND. 133 
 
 o' the dead man ; for I've seen too many in my 
 time, some hardly knowable, what with limpets and 
 crabs and seaweed, and their faces cut about with 
 the cruel banging against the flints at the bottom. 
 Ah ! and they want me to think and believe that 
 my darling is like one of those ! Do you want to 
 make me an unbeliever, Giles Fletcher ? Well, I 
 should be if I could think God would be so cruel as 
 to let me get made a wife in the morn and a widow 
 in the afternoon. No, no ! My darling is what he 
 shows himself in my dreams, and I thank God that 
 he keeps me in mind of what he looked like. Let 
 me see ; where was I, Giles, where was I ? " 
 
 " You had lit the second match and seen George's 
 face." 
 
 " No, that wasn't it ; there was something else in 
 my mind, which has clean gone. I can't get hold 
 of it, nohow ; it dodges me like the shadow of a 
 cloud on the sea, and hides behind the memory of 
 my dear, lost husband." 
 
 "You said the sight didn't make you turn queer." 
 
 " Ah ! that was it ; now I have it again : there 
 was something else, though, which gave me a fine 
 start, and I lit a third match to make sure. Oh, 
 Giles, when I saw thy neck-tie gripped in the dead 
 hand, I turned to stone. ' And is it come to this ? ' 
 I said ; ' has Giles Fletcher done to death this 
 poor old man ? Giles Fletcher, that used to run 
 and kiss me with his innocent baby lips ? Giles 
 Fletcher, that seemed the pride of all our kin? 
 Giles Fletcher, that Minnie loves too well?" 
 
 Giles groaned, and bit his lip, then faltered 
 out 
 
 "You didn't leave that neck-tie yonder, Aunt 
 Bessie?" 
 
 " Why should I bring it away, Giles ? Thou 
 hast mocked me these five years and more, and now 
 
134 VELVETEENS. 
 
 it is my turn to mock thee, thou sinful, godless lad. 
 Nay, struggle not to leave thy seat. What, thou 
 wilt?" 
 
 " I must go and get my neck-tie, I tell you." 
 
 41 Then go, Giles Fletcher ; go, and run into the 
 arms of the policeman, if thou art fool enough." 
 
 " Then what am I to do ? Oh, have some mercy 
 on me ! " 
 
 " What mercy hadst thou on poor George ? Thou 
 hast given way to temptation, and shalt have thy 
 reward. Know now, Giles, that one sin leads to 
 another. No man can commit an only sin and say, 
 ' There I stop ! ' The devil will hook that man by 
 
 the nose, and lead him on and on till Who's 
 
 that coming ? See, they are running into the town 
 end ; they have found the body, like enough. Go 
 thou and mix quietly with the throng, as if thy 
 heart was as innocent as it was ten year back." 
 
 " But that neck-tie ? " 
 
 " Am I not a Fletcher, too ? No, lad, I was not 
 going to let thee swing for it. I have ta'en it from 
 the dead fingers, and hidden it away, safe. Go, lad." 
 
 "Aunt Bessie, you have saved my life." 
 
 " Thy life ? maybe I have ; but thy soul ? no ! 
 It's only thyself can save that, along wi' thou 
 knowest who. Lad, thy life is a sorry, short span ; 
 but thy soul's life how long shall that be ? and 
 which is most worth saving ? " 
 
 "Aunt Bessie, you shall see me a changed man 
 from this night. I have had a terrible lesson. I 
 will turn over a new leaf see if I don't." 
 
 " God help thee, my poor lad ! God help thee ! 
 Now go." 
 
 As Giles mingled with the throng of gaping 
 villagers, Aunt Bessie drew from her pocket the 
 neck-tie, muttering to herself as she folded it up 
 in some soft paper 
 
THE DEAD HAND. 
 
 135 
 
 "Poor lad, it may have been an accident not 
 meant, I should say ; and he was finely distressed. 
 I was right to give him a fright, though, and I will 
 keep this bit o' stuff to hold him to his purpose. 
 But who comes here ? Well, if it isn't Minnie ! " 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A FIT OF REMORSE. 
 
 INNIE peeped in, and cried softly, " Is 
 any one there ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but what are all the folk 
 running yonder for ? " 
 
 "Oh! is that you, Aunt Bessie? 
 Something has happened ; somebody has fallen 
 over the cliff, and they have taken his body to the 
 lifeboat house." 
 
 " Dear me ! and what brings you here ? " 
 " I came to see if if Giles had come here. I left 
 him in our house looking faint and ill ; then, when 
 I went out to get him some brandy, he went 
 away." 
 
 "What had made him ill, Minnie?" 
 A bad fall be had, running in the dark. But 
 where can he be ? I feel quite puzzled about 
 him." 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't trouble your head about 
 him, Minnie. You can do better than marry Giles. 
 Mark my words, if you become the wife of Giles 
 Fletcher, you will bitterly repent it. That's my piece 
 of advice, and I shouldn't say it if I didn't think it 
 ought to be said." 
 
A FIT OF REMORSE. 137 
 
 " I suppose I ought to thank you ; but I don't 
 feel like it. I think that every girl knows her own 
 duty best, and, if she makes a mistake, she has only 
 herself to blame." 
 
 "You are as obstinate as a Norfolk donkey, 
 Minnie ; and that's saying a good deal." 
 
 " Then, if you knew I was like that, why did you 
 offer your bit of advice ? I mean to marry Giles 
 now, just to spite you. I shall marry him and be 
 happy in spite of you." 
 
 "Don't be too sure, Miss Minnie Fletcher. I 
 can stop your wedding by holding up a finger if 
 I like." 
 
 " Pooh ! one would think you were a witch, to 
 hear you talk." 
 
 "You are mocking me about my lost darling, 
 now ; and that is an insult I will never endure. I 
 shall go home, and I advise you to stay here till 
 Giles or his mother comes back. You can then 
 propose to get married at once, if your frock is 
 ready, you know." 
 
 Aunt Bessie sailed out of the room with this 
 parting shot, while Minnie sank into the armchair. 
 
 She began to feel very miserable now that she 
 was alone. She was uneasy about Giles to-night, 
 and his manner had been very unnatural. Either 
 he had been drinking, or some serious trouble had 
 shaken his nerve. 
 
 But what business had folk to come shaking 
 their heads and offering their cheap wisdom to her 
 about marriage ? She had strong views about freedom 
 of choice, had Minnie. It was a piece of imperti- 
 nence in Aunt Bessie, who had had barely three 
 hours' experience of married life, to dictate to her 
 whom she should love and whom she should avoid. 
 "Any girl who respects herself," said Minnie, fixing 
 her large, lustrous eyes upon the crumbling fire, 
 
138 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " any girl in my position would obey her own heart." 
 Wilful ? not a bit of it ! At her age she had a 
 right to choose for herself. As thus she fortified 
 her desires by argument, Mrs. Fletcher, Giles's 
 mother, entered the cottage. 
 
 A fine, buxom woman she was, possessing the 
 fine hair and eyes of the Fletcher family for she 
 had been born a Fletcher herself, and endowed 
 with a deep-toned voice. Minnie rose to greet her, 
 saying 
 
 " I came in here a while ago, Mrs. Fletcher, and 
 thought I would stay till you came back." 
 
 " Have you not heard the news ? Old George, the 
 hedger, has gone and fallen over the cliff and 
 killed hisself." 
 
 " Old George, is it ? I heard some one had hap- 
 pened with an accident, but didn't know who. Old 
 George ? then I'll warrant he had been drinking 
 hard. But where is your son ? " 
 
 "I met him in the town a while ago, going to 
 see the body." 
 
 "Ha!" said Minnie, with a little toss of her 
 head, " I don't call that manners to go away like 
 that." 
 
 "What has Giles done now, I wonder? Surely 
 you don't go for to blame him because he has run 
 with the rest to see the last of poor George ! You're 
 too exacting, Minnie Fletcher." 
 
 " Perhaps I am ; but when a lad comes in, 
 fainting almost, and cries for a drop o' brandy, and 
 you run down the street to fetch him a glass, and 
 when you get in you find he has gone gaping and 
 gorming with the rest of 'em well, I don't call 
 that manners. I don't know whether you do ? " 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher sat listening open-mouthed Giles 
 had run in, almost fainting, just after that cliff 
 business ! That made the thoughts trot through her 
 
A FIT OF REMORSE. 139 
 
 brain so fast, made them jostle so confusedly with 
 remembered words and deeds in Giles's recent life- 
 history, and call up such terrible, dark suspicions, 
 that she could find no words. 
 
 "Perhaps," said Minnie, "the thought of an old 
 drunkard falling over the cliff makes you forget your 
 son's illness. That he was ill, I am certain ; and, to 
 tell you the truth, I feared he had been giving the 
 keepers a chase. But he told me it was not so 
 he had had a fall when running. Now, Giles has 
 never told me a lie yet," concluded Minnie, "and I 
 think I know an honest face when I see one." 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher quietly wished she could have said 
 the same, and merely remarked 
 
 "Lor', Minnie, you make out Giles to be faint 
 and ill ; why, I should be real scared if I had not 
 seen him just now looking as hearty as ever I saw 
 him." 
 
 " Then I shall trouble you to pay for the brandy, 
 Mrs. Fletcher," said Minnie, with a laugh ; "perhaps 
 you'll keep it against the next time Giles feel 
 faint." 
 
 Just then Giles returned, and Minnie began at 
 once 
 
 "You're a nice sort of young man you are! I 
 left you next door to a dead faint, and when I came 
 home you had gone out to see all the sights." 
 
 "Don't talk like that, Minnie," said Giles, in a 
 low tone. " Poor old George has thrown himself off 
 the cliff, and I've just seen him lying as peaceful as 
 a child. Hang me, if I didn't feel sorry when I saw 
 him like that ! Death makes one stop a bit, and 
 think on what life is, and what we're here for. I 
 don't like to hear you talk like that, Minnie." 
 
 Minnie made no reply, but Giles had touched her 
 heart by this unexpected note of sentiment. "After 
 all," she said to herself, " he has the making of a 
 
140 VELVETEENS. 
 
 good man in him ; and as for his finding fault with 
 me, why, I thoroughly deserved it, and he has every 
 right to preach to me." 
 
 "What did folks say?" asked Mrs. Fletcher. 
 " Did they think he had done it himself ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ; there was no doubt on it. I myself saw 
 him drunk at the Jolly-boats, and he went out reeling 
 all over, like a smack with too much sail on.' 1 
 
 " Poor George ! his old woman will miss him 
 sadly. She have lost all her boys now, and her old 
 man went to-day. What will she do, Giles ? " 
 
 "Well, mother, if you're agreeable, I'll help her a 
 bit off and on. George and I have been old chums 
 ever so long." 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher had by this time lit the lamp and 
 put it down on the table, and Minnie looked up 
 admiringly into Giles's eyes, which just now were 
 softened with the tear of sympathy. He did, indeed, 
 look the picture of a noble lad, and she made ready 
 to worship the image which his remorse and senti- 
 ment had set up. 
 
 "Leastways," said Giles, "if Minnie does not 
 object ; for I hope we may count her almost as one 
 of ourselves." 
 
 "Get along with you, do," said Minnie, as Giles 
 pretended to put his arm round her waist ; Mrs. 
 Fletcher saying 
 
 "Ah, Minnie, I should like nothing better. You 
 know that." 
 
 "Some folk would growl, though, if I said 
 ' Yes.'" 
 
 Giles had by this time clasped her hand in his. 
 She did not draw it away ; and Mrs. Fletcher thought 
 it prudent to go apart, and rattle the cups in the 
 back kitchen. 
 
 Minnie's hand felt soft and warm as it nestled in 
 the nervous grasp of the hand that had so lately 
 
A FIT OF REMORSE. 14! 
 
 dragged an old chum to the cliff edge. Giles sat 
 still and enjoyed the sensation for a few minutes. 
 
 This, he felt, was better work than that other. 
 He began to wish his hands had been cleaner, his 
 conscience less uneasy. Minnie seemed to him like 
 an angel of innocence, calling him away from the 
 evil courses of his youth. How much pleasanter, 
 after all, would be a life of respectability with 
 Minnie ! There would be less adventure, no doubt ; 
 but no more prickings of conscience, no more panics 
 and dread of justice. He had had a taste of hell 
 in this last hour, which he would fain forget in a 
 new life. 
 
 There was still a good deal of selfishness in 
 Giles's highest aspirations ; he was still seeking for 
 what would be best and most pleasant to himself. 
 He did not hate the sin he had done ; he only hated 
 the disagreeable consequences, and feared the penalty 
 that might follow. 
 
 To be sure, he had never intended to murder 
 poor George. George had forced him to it, he kept 
 on saying to himself ; yes, he had forced him to it 
 there was no doubt of that. 
 
 "Well, silly boy, what are you thinking of, that 
 you can't say a word to me?" asked Minnie at 
 last. 
 
 " Oh, Minnie ! I have been turning over in my 
 mind all the bad things I have done. The sight of 
 George has made me take stock, as you may say. 
 I find I am badly on the wrong side ; but I can't 
 pay up unless I have time. I want somebody to 
 back me up or I shall go regular broke, and the devil 
 will wind up my affairs." 
 
 " Lor,' lad, how you do talk ! I suppose you're 
 a bit ashamed of your naughty ways, and try to 
 cover it up with a parable ? " 
 
 "That's it, sweetheart, that's it! I am terrible 
 
142 VELVETEENS. 
 
 sorry and shamed of the disgrace I have been to 
 my friends. I'd give anything to be able to lead 
 a new life. What's that noise ? " 
 
 "Only your mother putting things tidy yonder. 
 How scared and nervous you are to-night ! " 
 
 "Yes, I've had a call, I think. I wonder if this 
 is how folk feel when they're going to get con- 
 verted ? " 
 
 " My dear boy, I wish you were always like this ; 
 always as sober and Godfearing, then I should have 
 no fears. Giles, I expect you never were nearer 
 heaven than you are to-night." 
 
 Giles shuddered. Minnie's last remark shocked 
 him so much that he actually shivered with 
 terror. 
 
 " Why, bless me, you're all of a tremble, now ! 
 Sure, you haven't caught a cold, or a fever, or some- 
 thing ? " 
 
 " No, sweet lass, I have no sickness except what 
 you can cure." 
 
 Minnie smiled, and shook her head, saying, "Ah! 
 if I could cure you, I would ; but what if, instead of 
 curing you, I learnt from you to do wrong ? " 
 
 " I should deserve everlasting torment if I made 
 you worse by living with you. Minnie, my darling, 
 I worship you ; I look up to you as I would to an 
 angel. When I am with you I feel a better lad, I 
 begin to desire to do what is right. Oh, Minnie ! 
 when will you let me call you my own dear wife ? 
 When will you return my love ? " 
 
 Minnie turned her face away, and a shining tear 
 slid down her cheek. She was pitying Giles now ; 
 she had loved him for many a month, in spite of 
 her better reason. 
 
 He put his arm round her, and drew her gently to 
 him ; but the thought of the innocent girl yielding 
 to his love with such trustfulness made him feel 
 
A FIT OF REMORSE. 143 
 
 more keenly than before how utterly unworthy 
 
 he was to have the keeping of so bright a jewel. 
 Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Fletcher entered the 
 
 room, and, laughing, said 
 
 " Oh, dear me ! and when is it to be ? " 
 
 "Next month, mother," replied Giles, with a 
 
 radiant face and triumphant tone. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE STRANGER. 
 
 HREE weeks or more had gone by, and 
 the spring had come, with cold airs 
 from the east and hot sunshine and 
 cloudless skies. The larks were singing 
 in the blue, the wind grew more mellow, 
 the gorse sprang into bloom, the blue heart'sease 
 nestled in the grass ; all Nature seemed full of song 
 and thanksgiving and gladsome activity. 
 
 But events were not falling out kindly for the 
 simple folk of Upper Beckthorp. A calamity had 
 come with the blustering winds of spring a calamity 
 founded in the sinfulness of human nature, not in 
 the recklessness of Nature's grinding laws. 
 
 Jean Forbes was in her little garden, not sowing 
 peas and spinach, as had been her wont, but list- 
 lessly raking the weeds and tidying up the beds 
 with many a sigh. As she raked, she was aware 
 of a stranger leaning over the gate, and watching 
 her ; but still she never lifted her eyes. Her heart 
 was very full, and she did not want to talk. 
 "Good morning, miss." 
 "Good morning, sir." 
 Jean looked up, and saw a strong-built man, 
 
THE STRANGER. 145 
 
 dressed in a grey suit, lifting his hat to her. She 
 came forward a pace or two. 
 
 " Can I help you, sir ? " 
 
 "Yes, I think you can, miss. Does Mr. Forbes 
 live here ? " 
 
 "Yes, at present he does," replied Jean, with a 
 sigh. 
 
 "Oh, excuse me for seeming curious, but the fact 
 is, that I have not been in these parts for some 
 time, and I am rather at sea, and bothered what 
 to do about my friends here." 
 
 A look of sadness came into the man's honest 
 face, which quite melted away all Jean's Scotch 
 reserve. 
 
 "Anything I can do to help you, sir, I will gladly 
 do." 
 
 "Come, that's spoken out frankly! Be you Mr. 
 Forbes's daughter grown-up ? Well, I never ! Why, 
 I've seen you often playing at the beck when you 
 were a little girl." 
 
 Jean smiled, and tried to guess who the stranger 
 could be. " Come in, sir, and sit down. Mr. Forbes 
 will be in soon." 
 
 " Thank you ; I have walked a goodish bit this 
 morning, and I feel a bit tired. I am more used 
 to riding than walking. What's this ? oat-cake, as 
 I'm alive! Thank you, Miss Forbes." 
 
 Jean set before her guest a glass of milk, taking 
 note of such facts as met her eye : age about forty 
 or forty-five ; hands large but clean ; a gold watch- 
 chain and ring ; clothes a well-fitting suit of 
 tweed. She was puzzled ; he was not a gentle- 
 man quite, by his speech and look, but he was 
 evidently well-to-do. He ate a while in silence, 
 then asked 
 
 "You said Mr. Forbes lived here at present. 
 Is he going, then ? " 
 
 L 
 
146 VELVETEENS. 
 
 "Ah, sir, you may not have heard the heavy loss 
 we have met with in the death of the Squire." 
 
 "No, indeed ; I have only just returned to Eng- 
 land." 
 
 " He was so good to the folk, and always thought 
 how he could bring prosperity and happiness to 
 others. We never knew what he was worth, till 
 we lost him." 
 
 "Aye, that's often the case. I wonder if 
 But no ; I beg your pardon, miss. Tell me some 
 more about the place." 
 
 " Mr. Aubrey has come into the estate a very 
 different sort of person from his father, fond of fast 
 company and racing ; and they do say that he 
 gambles, and is already heavily in debt." 
 
 The stranger whistled a low, long note, and looked 
 at his boots. 
 
 " Unfortunately, sir, he has a grudge against Mr. 
 Forbes, and we have notice to leave very shortly." 
 Jean wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. 
 
 " I reckon you like this place, the beck where 
 you've played, and the folk you know so well." 
 
 "Yes ; it is like pulling you up by the roots. It 
 is hard to be turned away for no fault, too. How- 
 ever, there's many more shall feel the pinch as 
 well as we, so I must not be selfish over it. And, 
 perhaps, when we're gone, others will get their 
 turn ; for they say the new Squire is going to keep 
 racing horses, and he is to build a lot of new stable s. 
 He has given notice to the village club that he 
 shall want their premises, so I expect there won't 
 be any club after this. 'Tis a pity, for it kept 
 many a man from the drink." 
 
 " The whole village is going to the bad, it seems, 
 through the folly of one man. What does the parson 
 say about it ? " 
 
 " Oh, he is very indignant, and has done his best 
 
THE STRANGER. 147 
 
 to turn Mr. Aubrey from his purpose ; but, faith ! 
 you might as well expect to get water out of a 
 well by tickling the pump handle." 
 
 " There's one thing, Miss Forbes that young fool 
 will be bust out, and sold up, in less than fifteen 
 years ; but, meanwhile, you and many others will 
 have gone to the wall. Well, in our parts they say 
 sometimes, ' The old country is played out.' You'll 
 have to learn something from us yet, I reckon, if 
 you want to keep on an even keel. It's these old 
 feudal notions that will lead to cutting of throats 
 by-and-by ; for a Squire is a mighty engine for good, 
 if he be a good one 
 
 " Yes, sir, that he is," said Jean, with glistening 
 eye. 
 
 " But if he be a bad man, he can do almost any 
 wrong he likes ; no one dare say to him, ' Bail up ! ' ' 
 
 " No, sir," replied Jean, a little puzzled. Then, 
 seeing her brother coming over the plank bridge, 
 " Here's Mr. Forbes coming." 
 
 The stranger glanced at Angus a moment, and 
 said hurriedly 
 
 " No ; that's not the man anyhow." 
 
 "Angus, here is a gentleman who knows you.' 1 
 
 "Glad to see you, sir. I am sorry I forget your 
 face just now." 
 
 " There must be some mistake ; the man I knew 
 was older than you by thirty years or so." 
 
 " Ah ! you mean my father ? He's dead, sir." 
 
 " Your father ! How time goes, to be sure ! But 
 he was a strong, well set up man ; I should have 
 thought he would have lasted longer than that." 
 
 " So he would, if they would have given him fair 
 play. My father was shot by poachers from 
 behind." 
 
 " Well, I am taken aback ! I beg your pardon, Mr. 
 Forbes, for bringing up old troubles. I am real 
 
148 VELVETEENS. 
 
 sorry to hear it. Shot ! and in this civilized, Chris- 
 tian England ! Why, we don't often do things like 
 that out in the bush ! " 
 
 " Are you living in Australia, sir ? " . 
 
 " Yes ; I have been there the last year. A fine 
 country. But I am keeping you. I am bound for 
 Nether Beckthorp." 
 
 " Come in, and take a bit of bread and cheese 
 with us, if you will. I want to hear something 
 about Australia very much." 
 
 The stranger accepted the invitation, and, during 
 the meal, gave Angus a good deal of information 
 about the sort of life they lived out in the bush. 
 At last he said 
 
 " Look here, Mr. Forbes. I'll make you an offer 
 fair and square. I want a good, honest fellow to 
 help me in stock driving. I'll take you and your 
 sister over free of expense, and give you such a 
 share in the run as shall enable you to save money 
 for your old age. " 
 
 " Well, now ; that's very kind in you, being, as you 
 are, quite a stranger." 
 
 The Scotch caution was evident enough in the 
 tone of the keeper's voice, and the Australian at 
 once broke in with a laugh 
 
 " Ah ! a pig in a poke, I see. But, if you will 
 allow me to say so, I am no stranger at all, but a 
 Norfolk man, born and bred in these parts. I see 
 you wondering and inquiring. I must tell you some- 
 thing about myself, if you are to trust your fortunes 
 to my word ; of course, that's only right." 
 
 " Quite so," replied Angus ; " Australia is a long 
 way off, and we must know something of one another 
 before we strike a bargain." 
 
 "My story will sound a little like a tale in a 
 bopk, but I will begin by laying down my nuggets. 
 Here's my letters of introduction." 
 
THE STRANGER. 149 
 
 The Australian pulled from his breast pocket a 
 bulky pocket-book, from which he took a handful 
 of bank-notes, and some gold, and spread them out 
 round his plate, smoothing the notes out carefully. 
 
 Angus and Jean exchanged looks, and smiled. 
 
 " This is my first letter of introduction, sir ; for 
 further particulars I refer you to my temporary- 
 bankers in London. Here's their card, which I will 
 ask you to keep." 
 
 " Yes ; it's all right," said Angus : " but please 
 take up the coins and notes, or little Willie will be 
 playing chuck-farthing with them." 
 
 " Well, my friends, now you have seen a specimen 
 of my nuggets, I will tell you that when I left 
 England I had only a few pounds in my pocket. 
 You will think I must have worked hard to buy a 
 run a sheep-run in the bush costs a many thou- 
 sand pounds, you know. Well, this was how it turned 
 out. On the ship out was an elderly man, whom 
 I got to know well ; it was a sailing ship, and he 
 was taking the voyage for his health, you see. Off 
 the north coast of Australia we fell in with a storm 
 which drove us miles away out of our course, and 
 at last stranded us on a bleak island not far from 
 New Guinea. The ship broke up, and there we 
 were fast by the heels. No vessels passed our 
 way, we had only a small boat left to do coasting 
 voyages with. Most of the crew were drowned. I 
 got the Australian gentleman on to a spar, and so 
 safe ashore. There were four others saved with us/ 
 
 " Had you any food along with you ? " 
 
 "Well, yes. As the ship broke up, there came 
 casks and that sort, mostly damaged by the salt 
 water ; but it served us while we looked about us. 
 Very hot it was, I can tell you ; and we had soon 
 to fend for ourselves, fishing and bird-catching, and 
 grubbing for roots and such-Hke. Then we met some 
 
ISO VELVETEENS. 
 
 natives, who gave us some corn, so we knew we 
 were safe for next year. How long were we there ? 
 Close upon thirteen year, and mighty glad when a 
 schooner put in to look for water. The old gentle- 
 man had aged very much with the hard living and 
 bad fare, though I had shielded him as well as I 
 could. He bribed the captain to take us to Mel- 
 bourne, and then, after giving our mates on the 
 island a handsome present, he took me up country 
 to his run. I stayed with him till he died, and on 
 his deathbed he gave me a paper. It was his will. 
 He had left me a partner in the run, to take half 
 the profits ! 
 
 "I stayed on a few months, and then I couldn't 
 wait any longer. You see, all that time on the 
 island I could not send word to my people at home ; 
 and after fifteen years had gone, I was afraid to 
 write to my wife, lest she should have taken another 
 husband. So I determined to come over quietly, 
 unbeknown, and see for myself. I have been to my 
 brother's farm, and find he is dead, and the place 
 has changed hands, and now I have come on a more 
 delicate business. If she's dead, please don't tell 
 me straight out. If she's got married again, only let 
 me know before I leave the lodge, and I'll slip off 
 quietly back to London again. Poor Bess, I would 
 not give her pain." 
 
 " Not Bessie Fletcher, surely ! " cried Jean, 
 excitedly. 
 
 "Yes, that's the name. I was carried out to sea 
 on the very day I married her, and picked up by 
 a vessel from Hull. Excuse me," he suddenly 
 interrupted himself, and, rising, went to look out 
 of the door, wiping his forehead with his handker- 
 chief, and leaning against the door-post. 
 
 "Jean, go and put him out of his misery," Said 
 Angus. 
 
THE STRANGER. 151 
 
 Jean followed him, and touched him on the 
 shoulder. 
 
 " She is alive, and she has not married again." 
 
 " Thank the Lord for His great kindness to me ! " 
 murmured the Australian, and pressed Jean's hand 
 warmly. 
 
 "But but Jean hesitated to go on. 
 
 "Ah! there is something I ought to hear? Come 
 and tell me in the garden. I can bear it better 
 there." 
 
 There was a rustic seat at the end of the garden 
 under an evergreen ; here they sat and talked about 
 Aunt Bessie. 
 
 " When you were lost, everybody believed you 
 had been drowned, except your wife ; she stuck to 
 it that you would come back." 
 
 " Did she ? God bless her ! " 
 
 " Time went on, and still there was no tidings of 
 you. The more folk said you were dead, the more 
 Bessie vowed you were alive. She said she had 
 visions of your coming in the night, so that some 
 said she had gone off her head in her grief." 
 
 " Tell me ; is she mad ? Is she stark, raving 
 mad?" 
 
 " No, no ; but when she is talking quite sanely 
 about something else, she will change suddenly 
 and speak about your coming. She is quite in her 
 senses, except that she would believe you were 
 coming to her in a small boat over the sea." 
 
 " But, Miss Forbes, I don't see any madness here, 
 except in yon other folk who would believe I was 
 drowned." 
 
 They both laughed, and Mr. Brown, the Austra- 
 lian, went on. 
 
 "And I'll prove you all mad to the letter. I 
 will come back to her in a little boat over the 
 sea. How can it best be done ? " 
 
152 VELVETEENS, 
 
 " Oh, sir, that would be easy ; for your wife goes 
 every afternoon down to the town-end, and looks 
 over the sea for you." 
 
 "All right; then, I'll take a boat off the beach 
 before she comes, and you must promise not to 
 say a word of it to any one. Perhaps the manner 
 of my coming may be good for her state of mind. 
 Poor Bessie, thou hast been faithful to my 
 memory all these years ! Tell me, is she much 
 altered?" 
 
 "You must not expect to find her young and 
 beautiful as you left her : suffering has left its mark 
 on her ; her eyes have at times a wild, haggard 
 look." 
 
 "Her face!" The stranger shut his eyes, and 
 spoke softly to himself, " Ah, how well I remember 
 her face ! I see you, Bessie, standing by the altar, 
 tall and stately, your black hair and pale face, your 
 pretty rosebud mouth and glancing eyes. I pro- 
 mised to take care of you, Bessie ; God has given 
 me an opportunity now, and I am ready to do my 
 duty, though you should look wildly on me and 
 know me not. Oh, Miss Forbes, I am terribly 
 excited ! What do you think ? Can she bear the 
 shock of seeing me ? " 
 
 " I think so. Perhaps to come as she expects 
 you would lead her mind back again. There is a 
 doctor living here now. Would it be good to consult 
 him?" 
 
 "Very wise. I will call and see him. Meanwhile, 
 let no one but your brother hear of my arrival." 
 
 Aunt Bessie's husband took leave of Jean and her 
 brother, getting from them a promise to come and 
 meet him after four o'clock, 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE BOAT RETURNS. 
 
 ELL, Jean, who would have known that 
 that burly fellow was Mr. Brown who 
 was drowned so many years ago ? " 
 
 " There's no fear of his being recog- 
 nized," said Jean. 
 "What do you think about going to Australia, 
 Jean ? " 
 
 " I should like nothing better ; and it would be 
 very good for you to have entire change of scene, 
 and see some new people. You're looking fagged, 
 Angus." 
 
 " Perhaps a change " would be good," said her 
 brother, dreamily. 
 
 "Don't take on so about Minnie," said Jean, 
 clasping her brother by the arm affectionately ; " she 
 is to be married in a few days, and you must try 
 and forget her." 
 
 "Forget her? Easily said! Well, perhaps it 
 would be best to get away out of the country ; for 
 if I stay where I can hear of her being ill-used or 
 in distress, I might do something in haste which 
 I should be sorry for." 
 
1 54 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " It seems a fine offer, Angus, and a kind and 
 generous offer." 
 
 "It is all that. So many things are happening 
 now, I get quite flustered. I ought to have thanked 
 him more than I did ; but it all came so sudden 
 upon one." 
 
 " He must be rich, Angus ; and out there we shall 
 be more free and equal than we are ever like to 
 be in England." 
 
 "You little radical! Surely father and mother 
 were very happy as servants to the Squire ; so were 
 we till he died." 
 
 " Yes, Angus, but now we've got to go ; and as 
 we are both strong and full of work, I say, ' Let 
 us go to Australia.' " 
 
 They went on discussing the new scheme with 
 fresh hope ; for their sudden dismissal had given 
 them both a great shock. 
 
 When Angus took his gun about one o'clock, he 
 said, as he left the lodge 
 
 " I will be down by the sea after four. We must 
 back him up all we can, and I'm very curious to 
 see how the poor thing takes it." 
 
 Mr. Brown, on reaching Nether Beckthorp, went 
 to the hotel, and ordered a private sitting-room 
 and a bedroom ; he then strolled on to the 
 beach, and engaged a boat for a sail, taking 
 with him the small black bag with which he had 
 arrived. 
 
 About four o'clock, Jean Forbes called upon Aunt 
 Bessie, and found her alone in the house ; she was 
 even then setting out the tea-things for her lost 
 husband, with no less faith than she had set them 
 out fifteen years before. There was the silver cream- 
 jug, in its case, a wedding present as bright as ever 
 it had been ; the china tea-pot, to be stirred with 
 Ceylon tea ; the muffin-dish, empty for faith did not 
 
THE BOAT RETURNS. 155 
 
 demand a perpetual outlay of muffins ; and one cup 
 bigger than the rest, for him. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Aunt Bessie. I thought I should 
 be in time to catch you before you went out," said 
 Jean, cheerily. 
 
 " Yes, come in, do, and have a cup of tea with us 
 afterwards that is, if he should come to-day." 
 
 " Thank you, I will come in, if you want me ; but 
 if he does come to-day, Aunt Bessie, I think you 
 may want to have him to yourself: it's a long while 
 since you met, remember." 
 
 Mrs. Brown glanced sharply at Jean's face. 
 
 "Ah ! Miss Forbes, I have never known you make 
 fun of me yet. No, I can see by your eyes you speak 
 in earnest. Why, bless me, if you haven't got tears 
 in 'em ! " 
 
 "Dear Aunt Bessie, when I think of all your 
 sweet patience and perseverance, and love for him 
 you have lost, I can't help feeling that God will 
 reward you some day." 
 
 "I have not the least doubt of it myself," said 
 the other, raising her black eyes to heaven, and 
 clasping her hands over her bosom ; " though for 
 the last three or four nights my visions have left 
 me. I'm sorry to say I have slept like a baby 
 all night, and have never thought on my poor 
 Harry." 
 
 "Ah! you have had some good nights! and you 
 look all the better for it, my dear: your cheeks 
 have some colour, your eyes look quieter, your 
 forehead feels cooler. Perhaps God is going to send 
 him soon, and he wants you to look well." 
 
 Aunt Bessie looked in the glass, and smiled. 
 
 "Why, I declare you begin to look quite young 
 again ! " 
 
 " Jean, don't say that ; I know how I have aged. 
 I always have a fever here, in my brain. I have never 
 
156 VELVETEENS. 
 
 shed a tear since that day. Sometimes I think if 
 I could have a good cry I might feel better. What 
 are you going to do now ? " 
 
 " I'm just doing your hair for you, Aunt Bessie. 
 I always have thought that you might look a 
 little better if it was done my way. There ! your 
 face looks quite different now." 
 
 Jean kissed Aunt Bessie, who fixed her deep, 
 penetrating eyes upon her, and asked 
 
 " Tell me, Jean, do you believe he may come back 
 to me?" 
 
 " I never used to believe he would ; but your 
 great faith has melted my heart, and, if it has 
 touched mine, may it not have found favour 
 yonder ? " 
 
 Jean pointed upwards, and Aunt Bessie mur- 
 mured 
 
 " May the dear Lord be my example, and may 
 the Holy Spirit dwell in our hearts and give us 
 grace to do the will of God ! " 
 
 Then, when the tea-things had been duly ar- 
 ranged, the two women set out for the town-end. 
 
 In the street they met John Fletcher, who smiled 
 a pitying smile as they passed, and nodded familiarly 
 to Jean. 
 
 " Shall you be in if I come and have a cup of 
 tea, Mr. Fletcher ? " said Jean. 
 
 "Why, of course I shall, if you be a coming, 
 miss." 
 
 They then strolled towards the sea, Jean nodding 
 here and there to old acquaintances, who murmured 
 to themselves, half in pity 
 
 "There she goes yonder, to meet her drowned 
 husband, poor thing ! " 
 
 "But what is Jean Forbes doing along with 
 her?" 
 
 " Oh, Jean is a very amiable young person, and 
 
THE BOAT RETURNS. 157 
 
 she is just humouring Aunt Bessie. It's a mortal 
 shame sending those Forbeses away." 
 
 Girls with shawls over their heads were running 
 to the village pump to draw water for the evening 
 tea ; but they took no heed of Aunt Bessie, who 
 walked with head erect, her eyes fixed upon the grey 
 haze on the horizon till they stopped at the edge of 
 the cliff the town-end. The fishing-boats could be 
 seen along shore, some two, some four miles away ; 
 and against the sky they could discern the smoke 
 of a passing steamer. An old man in fishing 
 costume stood meditatively looking over the wall, as 
 he smoked his pipe ; all at once he took the pipe 
 from his mouth, and pointed seawards. 
 
 Jean noticed the gesture, and left the side of her 
 companion. 
 
 " I see a small boat coming ; do you know 
 anything about it ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do ; Tse got half a crown to pretend I 
 see her hailed by some steamer. What's the little 
 game ? Do you know ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but hush ! It's to help poor Aunt 
 Bessie." 
 
 " Help ? it look more like making a fool on her. 
 I'm not a-going to lend myself to no such schemes 
 as that." 
 
 " Hark in your ear ! that's her lost husband in 
 the boat yonder ! " 
 
 The old fisherman bent double, put both hands on 
 his knees, and said in a subdued giggle 
 
 " Lord ! one's as mad as t'other." 
 
 "Aunt Bessie," said Jean, returning, "do you see 
 that black sail out yonder ? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear ; it's put me all in a tremble ; for, 
 you know, they never go out to sea like that when 
 they're fishing." 
 
 "Let us sit down a while on this seat by the 
 
158 VELVETEENS. 
 
 wall ; it will be some time before she comes 
 ashore." 
 
 " Harry/' said Aunt Bessie, " is that boat yonder 
 coming straight in from the offing ? " 
 
 " She be, missus. I don't rightly know what's up. 
 She should have been fetching up her lobster-pots, 
 like the rest, but she were called out to sea, and 
 now she's a-coming home." 
 
 Aunt Bessie got up, and shaded her eyes with 
 both her hands. Soon she began to talk to herself 
 and pace restlessly up and down. 
 
 One or two more old men came, and the strange 
 news soon got about that Jean Forbes had gone off 
 her head, and had the same illusions as poor Aunt 
 Bessie. 
 
 From cottage to cottage the news spread like 
 fire amongst straw, and in less than ten minutes all 
 the capable women and old men left in Beckthorp 
 had hurried down to see the wonder. 
 
 " Yes ; there she stands beside Aunt Bessie, poor 
 thing ! and it's all along of the new Squire giving 
 them notice to quit." 
 
 They did not say anything, but stood a little 
 aloof, whispering and looking out of the corners of 
 their eyes, and nodding their heads. Fortunately, 
 Aunt Bessie was too taken up by watching the sail 
 to notice the unusual crowd and stir ; but Jean's 
 face flushed with anger at their idle curiosity, and 
 she went to them once, and said 
 
 "Please don't excite Aunt Bessie. She is very 
 hopeful to-day that he may come, good friends." 
 
 No one answered Jean's appeal ; they were all so 
 impressed with the idea that Jean had gone mad, 
 that they could only gape and wonder. When she 
 had left them, one old man said 
 
 " She don't talk so very mad, after all said and 
 done." 
 
THE BOAT RETURNS. 159 
 
 " No ; but did you mark her high colour ? There 
 was fever in her cheek," said an old goody ; " and 
 I ain't nussed fever for nothing." 
 
 "Aye," said a third, "and did you mark her 
 cunning ? They're al'ays as cunning as moles 
 mad folk be, she never spoke of her own hope 
 and belief, but put it all on poor Aunt Bessie 
 yonder." 
 
 "Aye, so she did; so she did. How amazing 
 cunning they mad folk be ! " 
 
 "Who said Jean Forbes ever believed any such 
 thing ? " said the old man who had first expressed 
 his conviction that she spoke sanely. 
 
 " I did," said the old man who was first on the 
 scene ; " I said the young woman corned up to me, 
 and spoke in a whisper mysterious enough to wake 
 the sheeted dead. Says she, 'It's her husband in 
 yon lugger.' " 
 
 The sensation now became intense. Every eye 
 was turned upon poor Jean ; so that Aunt Bessie 
 crept down the sea-steps almost without attracting 
 attention. 
 
 Jean remained on the top, shielding her eyes from 
 the sun with her hand, so that she did not notice 
 she had been left by Aunt Bessie. 
 
 The fisher-folk, their wives and children, now 
 began to press round Jean ; and, when she turned, so 
 many peering faces, some panic-stricken, some on 
 the broad grin, met her eye, that she was quite 
 startled. 
 
 " Where is Mrs. Brown gone to ? " she asked, 
 with some dignity. 
 
 " Gone to meet Mr. Brown," said an impudent 
 young urchin, in a mocking tone ; whereat everybody 
 laughed, and was relieved. 
 
 " You may laugh, if you like," said Jean ; " but for 
 my part I am more disposed to cry, when I think 
 
160 VELVETEENS. 
 
 how long that poor body has been waiting patiently 
 for his coming. And now, neighbours, I tell you 
 he has come ; so don't vex the poor woman with 
 your jeers, you little boys. Stand aside when 
 he lands and give them room to pass. What 
 are you whispering about ? You don't believe 
 it is Mr. Brown ? Well, I tell you I have seen 
 him ! " 
 
 " There now ! " " Clean gone out o' her mind ! " 
 "A march hare bain't nothink to her!" "Did 
 yer ever see the likes o' that ! " 
 
 Such, and of such sort, were the muttered exclama- 
 tions which saluted Jean's ears. From being angry, 
 she became amused. 
 
 " It's all right ; I am going to have tea with Mr. 
 Brown this afternoon. But do respect Aunt Bess's 
 state of excitement." 
 
 " There's a deal o' method in her madness," said 
 one. 
 
 "She says it that calm, I'm a'most fit to believe 
 it's true," said another. 
 
 And then the crowd laughed again. 
 
 But they no longer cast careless, squandering 
 glances on the lugger, which was now near the shore ; 
 every eye was fixed upon the boat. 
 
 " She's got two men in her yonder." 
 
 "Ay, ay, and one on 'em is dressed in a light 
 suit." * 
 
 " He's holding up summut a black bag, it looks 
 like." 
 
 " It's none o' young Harry Brown, if I be'n't blind ; 
 it's a big, fat man." 
 
 " Look at Aunt Bessie yonder ! " 
 
 Mrs. Brown, in this agony of her suspense, had 
 gone down to the water's edge, whither Jean had 
 now followed her. 
 
 The poor woman had sunk upon her knees, on 
 
THE BOAT RETURNS. \6l 
 
 the shingle, and had buried her face in her 
 hands. 
 
 Through the breakers came the lugger, with her 
 sail flapping before the wind ; now the keel began 
 to grate on the sand and stones ; now the stranger 
 lifted his voice, and shouted 
 
 " Bessie, my darling, is that you ? Is that you, 
 Bessie ? " 
 
 Aunt Bessie gave one look at the burly form 
 in the boat's bow ; then, with the cry of a hunted 
 hare, she threw up her arms, and fled back to the 
 sea-steps, with wild eyes and incoherent speech. 
 
 M 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 spectful 
 stairs. 
 When 
 
 THE CEYLON TEA. 
 
 HE people on the cliff had been watching 
 intently the course of events. They 
 saw Aunt Bessie's gesture of despair, 
 and her sudden flight from the stranger. 
 They now made way for her in re- 
 silence, as she came muttering up the 
 
 she reached the top she looked round 
 with flashing eyes upon the crowd of kinsfolk and 
 acquaintance, and said 
 
 " Shame on ye ! to get up a piece of acting like 
 this, to make fun of a poor woman perhaps a 
 widow ; who knows ? For I feel a'most as if God 
 Himself had deserted me now." 
 
 No one spake, no one dared to make reply to the 
 poor woman in her terrible agony of despair. They 
 felt that she had been cruelly deceived ; they were 
 as indignant as she was. 
 
 She passed through them, along the street, back 
 to her little house, where the best tea-things were 
 laid out, and the Ceylon tea lay ready in the china 
 tea-pot. 
 
 And Mr. Brown! 
 
THE CEYLON TEA. 163 
 
 Well, when Mr. Brown saw the bride of his 
 fond recollections, the dashing brunette, the girl 
 of glancing eyes and laughter-loving mouth turned 
 into a middle-aged woman with a wild eye and 
 haggard face, he felt a bitter disappointment. 
 
 Perhaps this showed itself in his face just when 
 his wife was looking eagerly for the husband of 
 her youth ; yet, when she turned and made for the 
 cliff, his first impulse was to jump out and overtake 
 her ; but he restrained himself, and walked leisurely 
 down a plank which was placed for him. 
 
 Jean Forbes was by the edge of the water, per- 
 plexity in her eyes. 
 
 "Missed fire this time, Miss Forbes. What is to 
 be done now ? " 
 
 " Come with me. She expects you to tea." 
 
 " The dickens she does ! Why, how could 
 
 "She has laid out tea for you this fifteen year. 
 Come along ! " 
 
 As Jean and Mr. Brown mounted the sea-stairs, 
 an ominous sound of hissing met their ears. 
 
 "What's that mean, Miss Forbes?" 
 
 "They think I have been deceiving your wife, 
 and that you are nobody but a stranger after 
 all." 
 
 " Is that it ? It seems very hard to prove that 
 I am I. Now, my good women, don't any of you 
 remember Harry Brown ? " 
 
 "You're not Mr. Brown get along with you, 
 do ! " 
 
 "Well, I was when I got up this morning and 
 looked in the glass. Of course, I may have got 
 changed at nurse." 
 
 The frank, ringing tones made a diversion in 
 his favour, but amongst some laughter there were 
 many murmuring voices. 
 
164 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " What ! is there no one here who can remem- 
 ber Harry Brown ? What old man is yon with the 
 short pipe ? isn't it Bob Fletcher ? Come, Bob, is 
 that some of the bird's-eye I gave you to smoke 
 the evening before I was married, when you and 
 I were planning out a new row-boat in Joe's yard 
 yonder ? " 
 
 " What's that he says ? " exclaimed the old man, 
 drawing the pipe slowly from his mouth. And when 
 the words were repeated to him in a shrill key by 
 his grand-daughter, he came and lifted his blear 
 eyes to Mr. Brown's face, uttering an expression of 
 surprise. " Blessed if it ain't you, Master Harry ! 
 Well, if this doesn't cap owt ! Look ye here, lads 
 and lasses, it's his'n voice." 
 
 " Yes, I've got my own voice, but my stomach has 
 got larger with living on roots in a desert island. 
 Good folk, I don't wonder at your unbelief; but 
 I know such a lot of things about you all, and 
 your fathers and mothers, that I am sure I can 
 prove that Harry Brown is Harry Brown, if you'll 
 only give me time." 
 
 "Where have you been all this time, Master 
 Harry ? " 
 
 " I was cast away for thirteen years on an island 
 to the north of Australia. To-morrow, if all goes 
 well with my wife, I will invite a lot of you to 
 supper, and you shall hear all about it. You must 
 excuse me now, for I am rather in trouble about 
 her, as you know. Good-bye, neighbours." 
 
 "And God bless you, sir," was the general reply. 
 
 " Now, Miss Forbes, I am almost sorry I ever 
 came back. It would be bad enough to know that 
 my wife was dead ; it is worse to know she is out 
 of her mind, and can never recognize me." 
 
 "She is sometimes, indeed generally, quite 
 reasonable, Mr, Brown, I hope, when she finds 
 
THE CEYLON TEA. 165 
 
 you are really her husband, she will be herself 
 again. You must know that she has had many 
 bitter disappointments, and some of the boys have, 
 out of fun, made believe you were coming. So that 
 it is no wonder she left you as she did." 
 
 By this time they were near the house where 
 John Fletcher, with his sister and Mrs. Brown, 
 lived. Jean said 
 
 "Better wait at the gate a few minutes, while I 
 go in and prepare her." 
 
 So Jean tapped and entered. She found Mrs. 
 Brown sitting with her arms in her lap, looking 
 listlessly into space. 
 
 " Why, Aunt Bessie, this is too bad of you ! " said 
 Jean, putting her hand on the woman's shoulder. 
 
 Mrs. Brown stared at the kettle, which was 
 hissing merrily on the fire ; but she made no 
 reply. 
 
 " I have brought him to have tea with you," Jean 
 went on; "he is standing outside now, waiting. 
 Come, Aunt Bessie ! " 
 
 Still she remained motionless, with dry eyes. 
 
 Jean sighed heavily ; to think that this poor 
 woman should have delighted so long in a hope 
 that seemed a delusion ; and, now that hope had 
 turned to reality, should be incapable of enjoying 
 the hour she had longed for so devoutly ! 
 
 Outside the house there were voices. Jean 
 went out, and found Minnie talking excitedly to 
 Mr. Brown. 
 
 "Oh, Jean Forbes!" she cried; "isn't this a 
 miracle ? How does Aunt Bessie feel now ? I'm 
 sure I am ready to jump over the moon for joy." 
 And she put her hand on the low stone wall, and 
 vaulted into the garden. 
 
 " That's a pretty girl," said Mr. Brown. " That's 
 how my Bessie looked the day we were married 
 
1 66 VELVETEENS. 
 
 just so winsome as that. Oh dear ! how shall I ever 
 be able to get her back with me to Australia ? I'm 
 half sorry I ever returned." 
 
 " Come in, Mr. Brown, and speak to her ; per- 
 haps she will know your voice, as the old men did 
 yonder.'' 
 
 Then Jean and Mr. Brown entered the room 
 where Aunt Bessie sat, holding the empty tea-pot 
 in her lap, and making no reply to Minnie's flow 
 of words. 
 
 " Bessie, my darling, I have come at last ; but 
 you don't remember me, I'm afraid," said Mr. 
 Brown. 
 
 Aunt Bessie put her head a little aside, as 
 one who listens to catch a tune he thinks he 
 knows. 
 
 "Bessie, don't you mind me? Don't you re- 
 member Harry Brown ? I have been away a long 
 time, dearest, but" and here her husband knelt 
 beside her and grasped her hand "they tell me 
 you have been very faithful to me, and have 
 believed I should come back to you again." 
 
 Still no reply ; but when Minnie broke in with 
 a sob, the poor woman held up her left hand, the 
 first finger being pointed upwards as if she were 
 waiting for some heavenly music, and feared any 
 earthly interruption. 
 
 Mr. Brown, seeing her so distraught, and catch- 
 ing in the worn features some resemblance to the 
 pretty maid he had left so many years before, felt 
 a sudden thrill of grief seize him, and he let his 
 head fall in his wife's lap, as he murmured 
 
 " It is hard to bear ! Gfod help me ! " 
 
 " Who is it ? " whispered Aunt Bessie, looking 
 wildly round. 
 
 Minnie was weeping ; Jean came forward, and 
 said 
 
THE CEYLON TEA. 167 
 
 "The husband you have so long prayed for is 
 kneeling at your knee, and you will not recognize 
 him. God has answered your prayers, and you are 
 still unthankful." 
 
 " Oh, my head ! my head ! It will split. Did 
 you say my husband was coming back ? Where 
 is he ? " 
 
 The strong man was shaken by his feeling, and 
 cried 
 
 "Oh, my poor mad wife, would God you had 
 died ! " 
 
 " There it is again ! It is his voice ! What ! 
 have I believed so long, only to be faithless at the 
 last ? Speak, Harry ! Speak again, if it be thy 
 voice indeed. " 
 
 " My own Bessie/* he cried, pulling her face down, 
 till it was close to his. "I am altered, and you 
 don't know my face ; but you remember my voice, 
 don't you ? And this ring see ! I have kept it all 
 the time, Bessie, darling." 
 
 " She is crying ! See ! the great tears are rolling 
 down her cheeks, Jean," cried Minnie, as she pointed 
 to Aunt Bessie. 
 
 The storm which had begun in thunder-drops, 
 ended in a flood of tears and sobs, amongst which 
 they could hear the poor woman cry 
 
 "God forgive me, for my hard heart! God 
 forgive me my want of faith ! " 
 
 The two young women quietly left the room, 
 and there, in the solitude of their first experience 
 of wedded life, this man and woman learnt the 
 differences and the sameness which time and 
 character had developed within them. 
 
 When, ten minutes later, Minnie and Jean re- 
 entered the room, they found Aunt Bessie smiling 
 over the first cup of Ceylon tea she had ever 
 poured out for her husband, while he was talking 
 
1 68 VELVETEENS. 
 
 with all his might, and making up for the time 
 he had lost. 
 
 They both went up and kissed Aunt Bessie. 
 
 "Aye, but it's my turn now, lasses," said Mr. 
 Brown ; and he inflicted the loudest of Australian 
 bush-ranging smacks on the cheeks of the girls, who 
 took it in mirth and merriment, so glad were they 
 to see Aunt Bessie herself again. 
 
 " I feel so much clearer in my head since I have 
 had a good cry," said Aunt Bessie. 
 
 "Yes," replied Jean, "you look bright and happy 
 now.' 1 
 
 "I should think she does," broke in the Aus- 
 tralian. "My Bess says she knew my voice from 
 the first, but she was afraid somebody was imi- 
 tating me, and trying to take her in. Then she 
 got angry, and hardly knew what she was about, 
 and her head ached. But it's all right now, isn't 
 it, Bess?" 
 
 " I hope so ; but I'm still rather frightened of 
 you, Harry. You never had that great black 
 beard when I promised to love, honour, and obey 
 you." 
 
 " No ; I was a better one to look at, but not 
 such a stayer as I am now. Plenty of these where 
 I come from, Bess." 
 
 He threw a handful of sovereigns on the table. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Aunt Bessie, gathering them up 
 carefully, "we shall soon be in the workhouse, if 
 we begin like that." 
 
 " Shall we, Bess ? Then, you pocket them up 
 for a rainy day, if you distrust my powers of 
 husbandry ! " 
 
 " May I ? All this heap of gold ? Why, there's 
 nine, ten, eleven pound ten chucked down as if it 
 was dirt." 
 
 "So it is, lass. Australian dirt is at the bottom 
 
THE CEYLON TEA. 169 
 
 of it. But get your things together ; we ought to 
 be moving." 
 
 " Moving, Harry ? You're. surely not going away 
 to-night ? " 
 
 " I've ordered rooms at the hotel, my dear wife. 
 I have a few letters to write ; and while I write, 
 you can sit quiet, and look at me, and wonder if 
 I am Harry or no." 
 
 " Not the big hotel yonder, I hope ! " 
 
 "Why not? Is it not comfortable enough?" 
 
 " Oh, Harry ! you should have asked some one 
 first. They charge you pounds and pounds! It's 
 only the very first quality that go to the hotel." 
 
 " That's what I thought, darling ; but I knew you 
 were of the very first quality, so I chose your room 
 carefully. I have asked the price, too, so you won't 
 frighten me. You are to have a private sitting- 
 room, and a snug little fire for seven-and-sixpence 
 a day. Cheap enough ! " 
 
 "A private sitting-room ! Well, I never did ! " 
 
 Poor Aunt Bessie looked comically bewildered ; 
 but her husband kissed her, and said 
 
 " Now, get some things together, and I will send 
 a man to fetch them." 
 
 Aunt Bessie went to her room to pack her little 
 stock of clothes and valuables. 
 
 Minnie had been busy, putting away the tea- 
 things. Mr. Brown was watching her, and kept 
 saying to himself, " She looks just like my Bess did, 
 bless her." At last he said 
 
 "Well, Miss Minnie, and has no one wanted you 
 yet?" 
 
 " Oh yes ! I am engaged," said Minnie, rather 
 shyly. 
 
 " She is to be married in a few days," said Jean. 
 
 " Indeed ! Pray, who is the happy man ? I must 
 get my wedding present ready, must I not ? " 
 
VELVETEENS. 
 
 " Harry," said Aunt Bessie, re-entering the room 
 at that instant, " you forget that you should consult 
 me first. I have known Minnie the longest ; she 
 has always been very kind and helpful to me, and 
 I should like to give her the best present that can 
 be got." 
 
 " And so you shall, Bess ; so you shall." 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 NOT QUITE AT HOME. 
 
 HEN Mr. Brown and his wife left the 
 Fletchers' house arm in arm to go to 
 their rooms in the hotel, they found the 
 street thronged with villagers, many of 
 whom pressed forward to shake hands 
 with "the newly married couple," as one old man 
 phrased it. And a hearty cheer sent them on their 
 way rejoicing. 
 
 The lady who managed the hotel was so polite 
 to Aunt Bessie that the latter could not forbear 
 saying to her husband 
 
 " I never knew before, Harry, how false the world 
 is. That fine lady would have thought it beneath 
 her to speak to me yesterday ; now she is all smiles, 
 and ' I hope we can make you comfortable, Mrs. 
 Brown ? ' or, ' Is your room to your liking ? ' Oh, 
 it makes me feel quite angry with her ! " 
 
 " Ah, Bess, I have learnt that lesson ; even out 
 in the bush we have our snobs. But as for Eng- 
 land, they are so used to bowing down to lords, 
 that to bow down to gold is quite natural to them. 
 And, I reckon, gold is the lord of the coming 
 century. By-the-by, what present shall we buy 
 
172 VELVETEENS. 
 
 for your young friend, Minnie Fletcher? I admire 
 her fine eyes and pretty colour, and I'm very glad 
 she has behaved so well to you. What shall we 
 do for her, Bess ? " 
 
 Mrs. Brown's dark eyes sought her husband's 
 face doubtingly ; she perused his laughing features, 
 and saw strength and good temper mingled. At 
 length she replied, putting her hand on his, as they 
 sat in the embrasure of a bow window that looked 
 upon the darkening sea 
 
 " Harry, will you do what I wish ? " 
 
 " Of course I will ; a thousand pound, if you 
 like." 
 
 " Harry, the best thing we can do for Minnie is 
 to stop her marriage. I want you to do it. You 
 have said you would do what I wish, darling, 
 haven't you ? " 
 
 Harry Brown gazed into the dark eyes of his 
 wife, as though he were trying to fathom their 
 depth. For the moment he half feared lest some 
 craze were troubling her poor brain ; but she looked 
 up at him so trustfully, that he was reassured ; he 
 saw just now no gleam of madness in her ; his 
 hand pressed her brow it was cool ; she was calm 
 and collected. Yet was he staggered by her request, 
 and doubted what to say. 
 
 " Harry, let us think no more of this till to- 
 morrow. I have very good reasons for wishing 
 Minnie to break off with Giles, but to-night I must 
 hear all about yourself. For, if I don't keep hearing 
 about you, and pressing your hand, I shall give 
 over believing you are my Harry." 
 
 " Ah, Bess, that would be a pretty kettle of fish ! 
 If you were to take it into your head to offer your 
 Ceylon tea to some better-looking chap than I was, 
 I should be bushed, shouldn't I ? " 
 
 The evening sped on in interesting talk. They 
 
NOT QUITE AT HOME. 173 
 
 Were exchanging confidences these two elderly 
 lovers ; and it was quite extraordinary how the 
 servants of the hotel found some excuse for 
 dropping in to see how things were going. 
 
 And the night fell, and the lights were put out, 
 and the sea moaned in the distance just as 
 usual. 
 
 But Aunt Bessie cried quietly as she said her 
 prayers ; for she had to alter the old form of words 
 she had used so long, and her gratitude ebbed out 
 in tears. 
 
 There were callers at the bar quite early next 
 morning, for all the neighbourhood had heard of 
 Aunt Bessie's luck, and were anxious to hear every 
 scrap of news. 
 
 The lady manageress was quite excited as she 
 replied to a group of questioners, who stood with 
 elbows on the counter and mouths open. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Smithson, she came in on his arm last 
 evening in her old stuff dress, looking so nice and 
 quiet. Mad ? Oh, dear no ! not a trace of aberra- 
 tion, I assure you. Well, you know, she never was 
 what you may call mad ; it was only after three 
 o'clock in the afternoons that she used to carry on 
 so with her delusions, and her what ? Oh, to be 
 sure ! Of course her delusions came true, and our 
 laughing at her (as you say) was well, I don't call 
 it madness, nor yet delusion, as you seem to think, 
 Mr. Cook ; still it's very wonderful, isn't it ? " 
 
 " How about three o'clock this afternoon, eh ? " 
 
 " That, sir, is settled. Mr. Brown has sent down 
 to order the Victoria and a couple of horses for a 
 long drive after lunch. Very wise of him, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Oh, then, he has really got plenty of tin ? " 
 
 "Well," said the manageress, simpering, and 
 doling out her next words in subdued tones as 
 if they were a delicacy in confidences which she 
 
174 VELVETEENS. 
 
 could only entrust to her nearest friends, "if I 
 may be allowed to express my opinion, I should 
 say Mr. Brown was extremely well off. Last night 
 I went up to her bedroom, to see if the poor thing 
 had every comfort, and she said to me, quite like 
 a little child so natural, so unaffected, ' Look here/ 
 she said, 'at this beautiful ring my husband has 
 given me ; ' and she stretched out her poor, thin 
 hand. My word ! it nearly made me jump to see 
 it. What was it ? why, a cluster of diamonds, all 
 twinkling at you as real as real ! I never saw such 
 a ring out of a shop-window before. And she said 
 to me, with tears in her eyes, and her lips all 
 quivering, ' God has been very good to me, hasn't 
 He ? ' Well, that took away all my envy at once. 
 I flung my arms round her neck, and kissed her ; 
 if I hadn't done that, I should have burst out 
 crying." 
 
 This recital was received with breathless atten- 
 tion. When the lady stopped, one of the house- 
 maids, who had been listening outside the bar-room, 
 came in, and said 
 
 " Please, ma'am, what am I to do about dusting 
 Mrs. Brown's private sitting-room ? " 
 
 " What are you to do, Mary ? why, dust it of 
 course ! You should have done it an hour ago. 
 They will be wanting breakfast soon, I dare say. 
 It's close upon eight now ; and poor Mrs. Brown is 
 used to early rising." 
 
 The lady manageress could not resist this little slap 
 at rich Mrs. Brown, only yesterday mad Aunt Bessie. 
 
 But Mary seemed to have something more to 
 say ; for, instead of receiving her reprimand meekly, 
 she smiled all round the bar-room significantly. 
 
 " Now, then ; what are you simpering about ? Did 
 you hear me tell you to go and do that room at 
 once ? " 
 
NOT QUITE AT HOME. 175 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, I did," said Mary, taking out her 
 very dirty handkerchief to laugh into with some 
 show of reluctance ; " but she's gone and done it 
 a hour ago." And now Mary fairly exploded into 
 a guffaw. 
 
 " Who's done it ? " said the manageress, sharply. 
 
 " Who ? why, Aunt B I should say, Mrs. 
 Brown." 
 
 " No, you don't mean it, Mary ! " 
 
 " Yes, I do, though. When I went up with my 
 duster, what should I see but the poor thing in her 
 old gown, hard at it. The chairs was all piled in 
 the middle of the room, the windows was flung 
 open, and there she stood a-wiping round the side- 
 board, like any Well, I never see such a sight 
 
 in a private sitting-room at a big hotel like this 
 never in all my life." 
 
 "What did you do, Mary?" 
 
 " I was fairly took aback at first ; but I said, 
 says I, ' Oh, Mrs. Brown, I hope you won't demean 
 yourself ! ' But she broke in, ' Oh yes, I shall ; I like 
 it, Mary. Mr. Brown is dozing, and I must be 
 doing something. I feel so queer in this big place, 
 but give me work to do, and I shan't think. I'm too 
 happy, Mary, by half. God has been too good to 
 me, too good ; and if I get stuck-up, and behaving 
 as if I was a lady born, He'll very like send my hus- 
 band off to sea again ; and I can't blame Him for it. 
 I should do the same, I know." 
 
 "Ah, poor thing, she's mad ! " said the manageress. 
 
 " Not she," replied Mr. Smithson ; " it's my belief 
 she's more sane than the lot of us. I wish I had a 
 man or woman on my farm with half her sense 
 eh, Cook?" 
 
 Mr. Cook slapped the counter with his hat, and 
 said 
 
 " It's what I've been saying all along. Aunt Bess 
 
176 VELVETEENS. 
 
 has a pull over us like this : she takes everything to 
 the Almighty, and makes her friends in the other 
 world ; so if she doesn't get what she asks for she 
 bears it patiently, and believes it's for the best. 
 She isn't like other folk, I own. She rambles on to 
 herself. I've met her up on the heath, a-talking 
 away like a good un. I heard her very words : 
 they was a sort of talking prayers not com- 
 plaining and whining for blessings, as some folks 
 does, but just pleasant discourse, as if she was 
 confiding her thoughts to a wise and good friend. 
 I can tell you it sent me home thinking, that after- 
 noon. And, ever since, I've stuck up for Aunt Bessie 
 God bless her ! " 
 
 " Well, He has that," said another listener. 
 
 " There's her bell, Mary. Run quick, will you ? " 
 
 Mary vanished, and the good folk in the bar- 
 room heard Mrs. Brown's voice, as she stood on the 
 landing of the first floor 
 
 "Oh, Mary, Mr. Brown has rung for some hot 
 water. I'm so sorry he didn't tell me, because I 
 would not have troubled you to get it." 
 
 And then they heard the reply 
 
 " Lor', mum, don't speak of it. It's a pleasure to 
 wait on such a nice-mannered gentleman." 
 
 "Yes, he is nice-mannered, isn't he, Mary? So 
 different from what I had been expecting all these 
 years so much fatter too, Mary. But I am keeping 
 you." 
 
 These fragments of conversation were slyly 
 relished in the bar-room ; and doubtless, if Harry 
 Brown had known how the neighbours were interest- 
 ing themselves in his doings, he would have given 
 one of his loud and hearty laughs. 
 
 Not long after a young man entered the hotel, 
 carrying a long card-board box. 
 
 " Who might you want to see ? " 
 
NOT QUITE AT HOME. 177 
 
 " Mrs. Brown, who is staying here, I believe. She 
 telegraphed last evening for some mantles." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " said the manageress. " She does 
 not lose much time, Lucy, go and announce the 
 mantles." 
 
 Then turning to the young man, she said 
 
 " And you come from Norwich, I suppose ? Yes, 
 I thought so. About what figure ? pretty good 
 ones?" 
 
 " The very best we have in stock, ma'am. Tele- 
 gram said, ' Bring the best you have.' I dare say 
 she is a rich lady." 
 
 " She is to-day ; yesterday she was a poor, lone 
 widow." 
 
 And then the story was told over again, with 
 interruptions, and corrections, and comments from 
 Mr. Smithson, Mr. Cook, from the head waiter and 
 the coast-guard, who had just looked in, and was 
 but barely finished when Lucy came back to say 
 
 " It's as good as a play, mum. Aunt B I should 
 say, Mrs. Brown she stopped a-pouring out the 
 coffee, and said, ' I don't expect any mantles, thank 
 you ; it must be a mistake ! ' But Mr. Brown, he 
 lays his knife and fork down, and turns hisself to 
 where I stood, and, says he, with a wink and a nod, 
 says he, ' It's all right, Lucy ; trot him upstairs. 
 They're for me, Mrs. Brown. If you can't do with 
 a new mantle, then I must put it on my back.' 
 And he fell to laughing that merry I couldn't help 
 joining in." 
 
 "I'd give a shilling to see her face when she 
 opens the box," said the manageress, with a touch 
 of regret in her voice. It did seem rather hard to 
 her just now, that so many earthly blessings were 
 being heaped on the back of this woman, who was, 
 after all, not at all prepared to receive them, or 
 perhaps to appreciate them. 
 
 N 
 
178 VELVETEENS. 
 
 The young man and Lucy went up to the Browns' 
 room, while those below waited rather silently : they 
 would not have liked to say they were listening ; 
 but human nature is human nature, especially in 
 out-of-the-way villages. 
 
 "You're wanted, mum," said Lucy, excitedly. 
 "She can't decide nohow, and says you must help 
 her." 
 
 " Well, I never did ! " cried the manageress, 
 dropping her stitches, and rushing to the stairs. 
 
 " That's right, " said Mr. Brown, as she entered 
 the sitting-room ; " now we shall get criticism : when 
 two women get together, you may be sure of faults 
 being found. Mrs. Brown by herself can only say, 
 ' It is too pretty !" 
 
 " I am sure I am only too pleased to lend my 
 poor powers of taste to 
 
 " Yes, I knew you would be a regular stunner at 
 that sort of thing. You're rather fond of dress your- 
 self, now?" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Brown !>" cried the manageress, half 
 pleased and half angry at the soft impeachment. 
 
 There lay the mantles on the sofa and on the 
 easy-chairs, inviting criticism and admiration. 
 
 " They are too good for me. I should look a 
 Jezebel in such beautiful raiment. My friends 
 would say I was stuck-up and proud, Harry. Do 
 let me wear out my old cloth jacket first do, 
 Harry ! " 
 
 " There now ! did any one ever see such a con- 
 tradictious woman ? I telegraphed last night for 
 these things in order to please her, and she wants 
 to go on with her old clothes, just to avoid the 
 jealousy of her neighbours ! I tell you what it is, 
 Bessie, if you make any more fuss about it, I'll 
 order in a hundred mantles, and dress up the 
 whole village, Why, bless my soul! she won't 
 
NOT QUITE AT HOME. 179 
 
 believe I can afford to pay for them. Here, Lucy, 
 ring up all the servants. Let's have 'em all in the 
 room. They shall have these mantles." 
 
 "What are you thinking of?" cried his wife, 
 opening her large black eyes very wide. 
 
 " Oh, I'm not dotty ! I know what I'm about, 
 Bess ; but, as you say, when a man comes home 
 after he has been thought dead, and finJs a good, 
 economical wife waiting for him, he must make an 
 offering of thanksgiving. See ! here they come 
 all grinning ; aye, I'll make you grin before the 
 day's out. Now, then, Mrs. Brown, before you 
 select your mantles, I must ask you to give each 
 of these honest people the little gold coin you 
 propose to confer upon them." 
 
 " What do you mean, Harry ? " asked his be- 
 wildered wife. 
 
 Whereupon Mr. Brown pulled out his purse, and 
 pouring out a golden shower of half-sovereigns on 
 the white tablecloth, he nodded to his wife, and 
 said 
 
 " It is your present, Bess : one each and our 
 blessing." 
 
 Smiles broke out all round the room, and Mrs. 
 Brown said 
 
 "I am very glad to let you share in this small 
 \vay in my great happiness ; but it is my husband's 
 present, not mine. You know I have nothing to 
 give you but my thanks for your sympathy. Well, 
 if you will accept these golden tokens, I shall be 
 much obliged to you all." 
 
 Accept them ? I should just think they did ! Why, 
 the little sitting-room echoed with " Bless you ! " 
 and " Thank you, kindly ! " And the young man 
 with the mantles seemed infected by the contagion 
 too, for he grinned from ear to ear, though he had 
 as yet had no mineral in his palm. Yet, when 
 
ISO VELVETEENS. 
 
 the servants had gone their way rejoicing, he 
 seriously recalled the company to a criticism of his 
 goods. 
 
 " Now, ma'am, here's a black cashmere, trimmed 
 with lace and beaded gimp, which would fit you 
 charmingly." 
 
 But the manageress broke in with, "Oh, Mrs. 
 Brown, if I were you, I would take this grey cloth 
 mantle ; the gold braid does look so sweet, and the 
 hood see ! it is lined with crimson silk. Oh, what 
 a duck of a mantle, to be sure ! " 
 
 " I should not dream of wearing one with gold 
 braid ; it would be ridiculous in me, would it not, 
 Harry?" 
 
 " You shall choose your own, Bess. I only asked 
 Miss Hunter up to give you a fillip ; your taste 
 is neat and not gaudy, is it not ? " 
 
 "It is, darling. I like this black mantle best, 
 Harry ; it is neat and quiet. May I have this, 
 darling?" 
 
 " Certainly ; I admire your choice, Bess : black 
 silk, Spanish lace, I believe ? Yes, he says Spanish 
 lace, and trimmed with jet ; very quiet and yet 
 good." 
 
 The young man rejoined with a smile 
 
 " Oh, sir ! it's real Spanish lace ; that's the most 
 expensive of all the mantles we have in stock." 
 
 " Is it ? Oh, I won't have it, then ! I couldn't 
 think of it." 
 
 " Yes, you could, sweet Bess ; the mantle's yours. 
 Put it aside, please, Mr. What's-your-name." 
 
 " Oh, Harry, please don't ; I really did not know." 
 
 " H'm ! I'm not so sure of that ; you're a bit of 
 a sly puss, after all, I'm thinking. You've carefully 
 picked out the most expensive article, while you 
 were pretending all the time you wanted a cheap 
 thing," 
 
NOT QUITE AT HOME, 
 
 1SI 
 
 Here Brown rolled about the sofa in agonies of 
 laughter. Mrs. Brown was in a whimsical distress ; 
 everybody was laughing. Well, she couldn't hold 
 out against the world, so she laughed too, kissed 
 her husband, and called him " A naughty man ; on 
 the high road to ruin." Then they chose a neat 
 mantle for Jean Forbes, and ordered half a dozen 
 pairs of gloves for the manageress. And so they 
 began auspiciously their first day of married life 
 together, forgetting that the joy-bells had pealed 
 so many years ago, forgetting their past troubles 
 in their present bliss. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 HOW GILES KEPT HIS WORD. 
 
 HEN Jean Forbes got up in the morning 
 and entered the kitchen, she found her 
 brother sitting by the table ; his head 
 was resting on one hand, and he was 
 asleep. 
 
 " Ah, poor fellow ! " she said to herself ; " he has 
 been out all night, and has come home so tired 
 that he has fallen asleep as he sat." And she went 
 quietly about her work, glancing at his face from 
 time to time. 
 
 The yellow hair had fallen about his freckled 
 brow ; his sleep was disturbed, he even murmured 
 from time to time. Jean opened the window, and 
 in came the fresh morning air, laden with scent of 
 sweet-smelling stocks and old-fashioned wallflower 
 and sweet-brier, and many another flower and shrub. 
 " Minnie ! Minnie ! " 
 
 Jean paused in her work ; the words were pro- 
 nounced so clearly, and with such sadness of tone, 
 that she felt she must wake the sleeper. 
 
 "Angus!" she said, giving her brother a little 
 shake. 
 
 "What is it?" the young man asked, awakening 
 
HOW GILES KEPT HIS WORD. 183 
 
 with a start, and staring wildly around. " Oh, Jean, 
 is it you ? I must have been dreaming." 
 
 " Yes, you were ; so I roused you. Go to bed 
 for a few hours, Angus ; you give yourself too 
 little sleep." 
 
 "There is so much to do now, with all these 
 eggs about." 
 
 "I wouldn't be so particular about preserving 
 the eggs. You get no credit for anything you do 
 now." 
 
 "Yes, I do, Jeannie. You forget; there is some 
 One who sees me when I do my duty. Oh, I am 
 sleepy ! " 
 
 The young keeper stretched himself almost from 
 ceiling to floor. As he was leaving the room he 
 turned, and said 
 
 " I have been in temptation, lassie, the night ; 
 but, thank God, I have come out clear." 
 
 Jean noticed the serious expression in his blue 
 eyes, and said, as she caught his coat with both 
 hands 
 
 "Temptation, Angus? Nothing very bad, I 
 hope?" 
 
 "I hardly like to tell you how wicked I have 
 been. The fact is, when I was on my beat last 
 night, I heard low voices quite close to me. One 
 was Harry Bent's, the other was who do you 
 think ? why, Giles Fletcher's ! I could have shot 
 him, and saved poor Minnie a life of misery. I 
 seemed, too, to see father's face in the long fern ; 
 and oh ! I was so tempted to pay him off for that 
 murderous shot in the fir plantation." 
 
 " But you didn't, Angus ? " 
 
 " No, I laid down my gun, and just jumped on 
 his back like a tiger. Harry Bent was off like a 
 hen-grouse, and Giles fell underneath me like an ox 
 at the butcher's ; there was no need to throttle him." 
 
1 84 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " Angus, how your eyes flash ! You didn't hurt 
 him?" 
 
 "Not much, lassie. I only let him feel I was 
 his master, that was all. ' Giles/ said I, 'you know 
 very well that I could kill you now if I liked.' He 
 groaned, and said something about ' Would I spare 
 him ? ' ' Yes/ said I, ' on one condition : tell me 
 why you killed my father ? ' He wouldn't speak ; 
 so I said, 'You needn't fear I shall bring you to 
 trouble about it ; I'm not that sort. I don't want 
 to see you hanged at Norwich. Minnie Fletcher 
 loves you, and that alone that, and nothing else, 
 saves your life. So speak the truth, and fear 
 nothing. Why did you kill him, Giles ? ' " 
 
 " ' It was a mistake ; I never meant to/ he said. 
 
 " ' Bah ! ' said I, tightening my grip about his 
 neck; 'tell the truth, or I'll strangle you in the 
 bracken.' 
 
 " Then he gasped, and put out his tongue ; there 
 was moonlight enough to see it : so I let go a bit, 
 and said, 'Come, lad, tell the truth, and I'll let 
 you go free ; but you shall never marry Minnie, mind 
 that ; try, and I give you up to justice/ 
 
 " He took a minute or two to get his breath back, 
 and looked up at my face the while. Then he 
 whimpered 
 
 " ' Don't hurt me, Forbes, and I'll tell you true 
 I will indeed.' 
 
 " I still sat astride him, but I let go of his neck. 
 ' Speak out/ I said, ' and never fear ; if it hadn't 
 been for poor Minnie, I'd ha' given you over to 
 justice long ago. I have evidence enough to hang 
 you, Giles ; but, though you have murdered my 
 father, I leave the punishment to God, and to 
 your conscience/ 
 
 " His eye was on mine all the time I was speak- 
 ing. I could see he was calculating his chances ; 
 
MOW GILES KEPT HIS WORD. 185 
 
 he lay as quiet as a hare that you have surprised in 
 her form, and she lies with her ears back, waiting 
 for the stroke of death, and can't move for the 
 fright o't. 
 
 "' Angus Forbes,' says he at last, with a gasp, 
 ' forgive me, if you can : it was you I meant to 
 kill in the fir wood yonder ; but in the dark I 
 mistook my man, and shot your poor father by 
 accident. I am very sorry ; I never had any grudge 
 against him ; he was a good, well-spoken man, and 
 I am real sorry I done it.' 
 
 " Jean, lass, when he told me that, half my anger 
 against him was gone ; but I asked him why he 
 wanted to kill me. 
 
 "'You came between me and Minnie Fletcher; 
 I was mad with jealousy. There ! I've told you 
 now ! It came upon me all in a moment like. I 
 never meant nothing of the sort, till I heard you 
 talking in the wood. I fired, and it has done me 
 no good no good ! only made me a worse man. 
 So now, kill me, and take your revenge.' 
 
 " ' No, no, Giles/ said I, quietly. ' I am glad 
 you did not mean to kill poor father ; because I 
 have always had a sort o' feeling that it was my 
 duty to do something in satisfaction of his blood ; 
 but if it was only me you meant to kill, that's 
 another matter. I know what jealousy is, lad. I 
 could have killed you just now, if I had given way 
 to it. Get up and go home. You will hear no more 
 of this as far as I am concerned. I leave you to 
 the great Judge of all the earth.' 
 
 " He got up and staggered to his feet. ' I want 
 to thank you,' he said, in a trembling voice ; ' but 
 I feel shaky all over.' 
 
 " Well, lass, the upshot was, I had to half carry 
 him through the ling till we got to the sandy 
 lane. I read him a sermon as we went, and I told 
 
1 86 VELVETEENS. 
 
 him, if he wanted to show his gratitude to me, 
 and repentance for his fault, the best way was to 
 leave off his evil ways, and try and make a happy 
 home for his mother." 
 
 Jean had been leaning her forehead against the 
 chimney-piece ; she turned and kissed her brother, 
 and a tear stood in her eyes, as she exclaimed 
 
 " Well done, Angus ; you have won the finest 
 victory you ever did in your life." 
 
 " Do you think so, Jeannie ? But it has cost me 
 dear." And the young man sighed, as he rubbed 
 the back of his hand across his eyes. 
 
 "I know it has. You love her still, and if she 
 only knew you and Giles if she knew your hearts 
 as well as she knows your faces, she would not 
 hesitate nor doubt which of the two she ought to 
 marry." 
 
 " Well, I'll go and get a bit o' sleep. Don't you 
 tell any one about last night's work, Jean." 
 
 When Angus had gone to his room, his sister 
 began revolving plans for informing Minnie more 
 fully about her sweetheart's sinfulness ; but she 
 was met by difficulties at every turn. Minnie 
 would indignantly deny the charges ; it would 
 be necessary to bring forward the evidence. This 
 might get about, and lead to Giles being hanged ; 
 and this conclusion she shrank from with horror. 
 Still, it did seem to her almost wicked to let Giles 
 Fletcher go about unpunished, with that dreadful 
 deed of blood scored against him ; and all that 
 morning, as Jean busied herself about her duties, she 
 kept pondering these things in her mind. 
 
 As she and Willie sat at breakfast they heard a 
 horse come up the hill, and the sound stopped at 
 their gate. Presently the latch of the garden gate 
 clicked, and the ruddy, smiling face of the head 
 groom at the hotel showed at the open door. 
 
HOW GILES KEPT HIS WORD. 187 
 
 " Good morning, Miss Forbes. I've got a largish 
 parcel for you and a note." 
 
 " Do sit down, Mr. Henderson," said Jean, offer- 
 ing a chair ; " it is very good of you to come with it." 
 
 Mr. Henderson winked at Willie as he remarked, 
 " Don't know much about that. Mr. Brown yonder 
 him as was drownded years back, you know least- 
 ways folks thought he ought to ha' been H'm ! 
 
 where was I, Miss Forbes?" 
 
 Mr. Henderson, having lost the thread of his 
 discourse, was curry-combing his back hair in a 
 pretty despair with the note which he was to 
 deliver. 
 
 "You were saying something about Mr. Brown," 
 said Willie. 
 
 " So I was and here it is," he cried, thumping 
 his thigh and fetching out half a crown which he 
 held up for Willie's admiration: "that's something 
 like a gentleman I reckon that free he is with 
 his gold. Why, we had ten bob all round before 
 breakfast this morning ; and says he, ' Just ride up 
 with this parcel, Henderson ' he called me Hender- 
 son as pat as if he had known me for years 
 
 Let me see where was I ? " 
 
 " ' Ride up with this parcel,' " said Willie, laughing. 
 
 " Well done, young un ! A bright boy, Miss Forbes, 
 and will do you credit some day. I say, Willie, 
 just run out and see if my mare is safe ; I tied 
 her to the gate. That's a good boy! Now, Miss 
 Forbes, excuse me asking you again. I didn't like 
 to do it afore that bright boy he was fit to laugh 
 at me just now but I get that muddled could 
 you kindly say I've partly forgotten in short, 
 where was I ? " 
 
 " You were saying that Mr. Brown had asked you 
 to ride up with the parcel," said Jean. " Perhaps, if 
 it really is for me, I had better see what's in it 
 
1 88 VELVETEENS. 
 
 And the letter, Mr. Henderson, please, if you don't 
 mind. Thanks ! Now, while I'm reading it, do have 
 a cup of tea." 
 
 "Well, no, not this morning, thank you ; I've not 
 tasted tea since I was confirmed." 
 
 " Not a confirmed drunkard, I hope ? " said Jean, 
 playfully. 
 
 " Oh, that's a little too bad," said Mr. Henderson, 
 giggling bashfully, while his nose blushed at such 
 a suggestion ; " it's a little too bad ! But there, now ! 
 you pretty girls can say anything you know you 
 can." 
 
 " Hush, Mr. Henderson, you are a married 
 man." 
 
 " I grieve to say I am," he replied, with a sigh, 
 putting his hand to his heart, and winking at the 
 tall eight-day clock, that seemed to stiffen at the 
 indignity. He then laughed, so loudly that Jean was 
 obliged to caution him, lest he should wake her 
 brother. 
 
 Willie had returned. " The horse is safe enough, 
 
 eating the hedge, and Oh my ! Jean, what a 
 
 beautiful cloak you've got, to be sure ! " 
 
 " It is, Willie. Mr. Brown has sent it for me." 
 
 Mr. Henderson got up, and walked round Jean 
 three times, with his head on one side, and a ghost 
 of a hiss seemed to come from his lips, as if he 
 were grooming her in fancy. 
 
 "I must run down and thank Aunt Bessie for 
 this," said Jean ; "so I won't keep you waiting." 
 
 "But you haven't read the letter," replied Mr. 
 Henderson, in an injured air ; for he had scientific 
 leanings, and always wanted to know what things 
 were made of. 
 
 As Jean, after reading the letter, made no allusion 
 to its contents, Mr. Henderson felt himself obliged 
 to fence a little, and try to worm out the secret. 
 
HOW GILES KEPT HIS WORD. 189 
 
 "I dare say, now, he's writ you a mighty civil 
 letter?" 
 
 "Yes, very kind indeed. It's from Mrs. Brown." 
 
 "P'raps it's hoping you may live to enjoy the 
 present ? " 
 
 " Well, Mr. Henderson, perhaps it is and perhaps 
 it isn't ; anyhow, you can say we will come down 
 to-night." 
 
 " Oh ! it's dinner, is it ? You'll get a first-rater." 
 
 " Yes, I know you have good things going ; 
 though it's out of the season now, and delicacies 
 are scarce." 
 
 " Ah, but they can get them for a real gentleman 
 like Mr. Brown. Just fancy Aunt Bessie falling 
 on her feet like that ! Why, I remember her a little 
 bare-legged, skinny lass 
 
 " Hush ! You forget the half-sovereigns and the 
 half-crown." 
 
 " No, I don't. But you're right, Miss Forbes ; 
 there may be more to follow. Don't do to look a 
 gift-horse in the mouth. Well, good morning, miss ; 
 good morning." 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A LATE REPENTANCE. 
 
 HEN Henderson had gone, Jean sat down 
 by the open window, and carefully read 
 her letter. 
 
 " MY DEAREST JEAN, 
 
 " The more I think of my happiness the 
 more I feel your kindness to me the other day ; 
 and dear Harry is quite taken with your brother's 
 frank face, and he wants you both to come and 
 dine at seven to-night. It's like playing at being 
 quality, I know, to dine at that absurd time, but he 
 will do it. He says he must have you both in Aus- 
 tralia to help on the sheep-run ; and we're all to 
 be friends together, Jean. I shall be so glad if 
 you will come, for you will help me to be saving 
 you're Scotch, and you know what a penny is 
 worth. If we stay here much longer, we shall 
 surely be ruined ; for the money's running out 
 like sand from a child's pocket. Harry has given 
 me a beautiful mantle, I chose the most expensive 
 of the lot quite by mistake, and he won't let me 
 
A LATE REPENTANCE. 19 1 
 
 go back on it. This other he sends to you with 
 his and my love. 
 
 "Yours affectionately, 
 
 "BESSIE BROWN." 
 
 Jean read this twice, and was thinking over a 
 suitable reply to send by Willie, when Mr. Fraser, 
 the Vicar, with his smiling daughter, came up the 
 path. 
 
 Jean ran out with a flushed face to meet them. 
 
 " Oh, sir, I'm so glad to see you ! Come in, Miss 
 Fraser. It's a nice morning, isn't it ? " 
 
 "Charming," said the Vicar. "And how is your 
 brother ? Has he heard of anything yet that will 
 suit him ? " 
 
 "Well, sir," said Jean, putting out her letter, 
 and turning it over tenderly, "here's a letter come 
 from Mrs. Brown that is Aunt Bessy, you know, 
 and they want Angus and me to go back with 
 them to Australia." 
 
 "Well, I dare say you couldn't do better. I 
 hear he has got money somehow. Do you know 
 how ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ; he has told us all about it. He was 
 kind to an Australian gentleman when they were 
 wrecked together, and, when the gentleman died, 
 he left his sheep-run to Mr. Brown." 
 
 " The Browns are well known hereabouts ; it looks 
 very promising. What does your brother think 
 about it ? " 
 
 " Angus has not seen the letter yet, sir ; he was 
 out all night, and has gone to bed for a few hours. 
 But we have talked it over before, and he said 
 that it looked honest. Shall I tell him you think 
 well of it ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; as far as I can gather, Mr. Brown 
 is a man of wealth, and able to perform what he 
 
Ip2 VELVETEENS. 
 
 promises. We shall be having Giles Fletcher's 
 wedding in a few days. Has your brother reconciled 
 himself to his fate yet ? " 
 
 "He never owns to any sorrow over Minnie ; but 
 I can see many signs of well, I won't say a broken 
 heart ; for he's too much of a man to fret his heart 
 out, when there's work to be done." 
 
 " Yes ; he is a fine fellow, isn't he, Lucy ? " 
 
 "A great deal too good for Minnie Fletcher with 
 my kind regards," said Lucy Fraser, indignantly. 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Lucy. I'll tell him what you 
 say." 
 
 The Rev. C. Fraser and his daughter had a visit 
 to make, two miles away. They passed through 
 the village, and up a steep lane, and across the 
 heath, and through a fir wood, down into a sandy 
 lane, and up again, clambering in the loose dry 
 soil, beneath the young firs, until they reached 
 the open top, from whence they could see the blue 
 waters of the North Sea over the green wood 
 below them, while the red roofs of the houses in 
 the hamlet glistened prettily between the waving 
 branches. 
 
 As they paused for a moment to enjoy the view, 
 heather beneath their feet and all round them, 
 larches and evergreens before them, and, between 
 them and the sea, rolling hills and wooded valley, 
 while the scent of pines pervaded the fine sea-breeze, 
 and the hum of insect life thrilled through all, they 
 were conscious of a human voice not far off; yes, 
 there, behind yon filbert-bush sat a man and woman, 
 engaged in close conversation. 
 
 "Strangers!" murmured Lucy Fraser to her 
 father. 
 
 " Yes, let us look at them ; it is early for 
 strangers to visit the coast. Why, to be sure ! if 
 it isn't Mrs. Brown! How do you do, my dear 
 
A LATE REPENTANCE. 193 
 
 friend ? You must introduce me to your husband. 
 I had not the pleasure of knowing him. Thank 
 you, sir ; and I am glad to make your acquaintance. 
 This is my daughter, Lucy." 
 
 Brown and his wife had risen to greet the Vicar, 
 and, after the first few words had passed, Aunt 
 Bessie asked Mr. Fraser to step aside with her, as 
 she had something to say. 
 
 " Willingly, Mrs. Brown ; and Mr. Brown shall 
 instruct Lucy in the mysteries of bush-life." 
 
 " You see, sir," said Mrs. Brown, fixing her dark 
 eyes on the Vicar's handsome face ; " we were talk- 
 ing about that marriage of Minnie Fletcher's." 
 
 "Ah! she has been very headstrong about it, 
 poor child." 
 
 " But we must stop it ; it cannot take place, sir." 
 
 The woman's tone startled Mr. Fraser. Was she 
 wandering in mind now? He glanced sharply at 
 her more than once. 
 
 "I've been telling my husband, and he agrees 
 with me, that the marriage must be prevented." 
 
 " But things have gone too far, Mrs. Brown ; 
 they have been asked three times in Church." 
 
 "I don't care if they've been asked thirty 
 times ! I beg pardon, if I am rude ; but the more 
 I think of it, the more I feel it is our duty to stop 
 it. If you knew 
 
 " Well, why shouldn't I know your facts ? " 
 
 "Because they are so disgraceful. You might 
 think it your duty to follow them up, and get some 
 one into trouble." 
 
 "It is not the duty of a parish priest to act as 
 a constable, nor even as a minister of justice. What 
 you tell me in confidence, Mrs. Brown, shall go no 
 further than you wish. If my advice can be any 
 help to you, you have only to ask it." 
 
 "Let us sit on this heathery bank a minute or 
 
 o 
 
194 VELVETEENS. 
 
 two, sir, while I tell you why Giles is no fit mate 
 for our Minnie." 
 
 "You are going to speak of his poaching, perhaps?" 
 
 " I might ; a poacher makes a bad husband, but 
 a murderer makes a worse." 
 
 " Good gracious ! a murderer ! You don't mean 
 it really ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do, sir ; sorry am I to say it, seeing 
 Giles is a Fletcher, of Nether Beckthorp, as we all 
 are : what touches one touches all." 
 
 " But, my good woman, it is a very serious charge 
 to bring against a man, and should only be said 
 on very good evidence." 
 
 " So my husband says ; but I have satisfied him 
 it is true. Giles shot old Mr. Forbes, the Squire's 
 head keeper!" 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 "His ram-rod was found near the body." 
 
 " That might lead to suspicion, Mrs. Brown ; but 
 it does not prove that Giles fired the shot." 
 
 " No, perhaps not ; but Giles was out that night 
 with some poachers, and came home with a dog's 
 teeth-marks in his coat." 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 "It seems that Mr. Forbes's mastiff a dog that 
 ain't like to make mistakes, as you know tracked 
 the murderer." 
 
 " Ha ! still, Giles might have been defending his 
 friend, who had been using his gun." 
 
 "Well, there was an old man an old poacher 
 employed by the Squire in mending hedges ; one 
 day he let out to young Forbes that well, he let 
 out as much as to say that Giles had done it." 
 
 "Who told you this?" 
 
 "Jean Forbes had it from her brother, and told 
 me in confidence." 
 
 "Where is that old man you speak of?" 
 
A LATE REPENTANCE. 195 
 
 "That's what I'm coming to, sir. It seems old 
 George thought he had a hold over Giles, knowing 
 as he did who shot Mr. Forbes ; and it is thought 
 he tried to get money out o' Giles." 
 
 " But this is not evidence, Mrs. Brown ; this is 
 hearsay and opinion." 
 
 " Oh, I ask pardon ! I'm not clever in lawyer's 
 lingo. I only go by facts ; and what I see, I 
 believe." 
 
 " Very well ; then what fact have you got to found 
 your story on ? " 
 
 Mrs. Brown fumbled in her pocket ; then she 
 remembered she was wearing a new cloak, and 
 muttered, as she got up and pulled up her skirt, 
 and rummaged in a secret pocket 
 
 " I'd a'most forgotten he'd come home and given 
 me a new cloak ; these things do flummox a body 
 so." 
 
 At last she pulled out a bit of silk coloured 
 silk, rather the worse for wear from her petticoat- 
 pocket, and held it out 
 
 "This fact this fact it wants a lot of explaining." 
 
 Mr. Fraser took it, saying, "And what may this 
 be?" 
 
 "A bit of Giles Fletcher's neck-tie, your rever- 
 ence." 
 
 " Very well ; and you found it ? " 
 
 " Yes, I found it I found it, sir. Dear me ! my 
 head is giving way. After all, we have no right to 
 judge one another." 
 
 Mrs. Brown was murmuring to herself rather than 
 talking to the Vicar ; she ended by thrusting the 
 neck-tie back into her pocket. 
 
 The Vicar glanced sharply at her ; it must be 
 another of her delusions, he thought. It will be 
 serious work trying to fasten such a charge on the 
 lad upon the evidence of such a woman. 
 
196 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " Come, Mrs. Brown," he said, in a gentle tone, 
 " try and collect your thoughts ; how do you bring 
 this bit of stuff in as evidence against Giles? 
 What has the tie to do with it ? " 
 
 " The tie ? Poor lad ! I gave him that tie ; it 
 was a birthday present ; I bought it of a hawker 
 down town." 
 
 "Well, can't you tell me how you connect it with 
 the murder?" 
 
 "No, I solidly can't," said Mrs. Brown, shaking 
 her head, and picking a leaf to pieces. " I've gone 
 and jumbled up two things together. Now I come 
 to think it over, I find the neck-tie had nothing to 
 do with the murder of Mr. Forbes." 
 
 Aunt Bessie had relented at the last moment, 
 and could not bring herself to give the fatal evi- 
 dence ; she went on 
 
 " But don'.t you think, sir, that the finding of the 
 ram-rod, and the cutting of his coat, and the wortis 
 of old George, and the growling of the mastiff 
 whenever she sees Giles (for that's what they say 
 she does) don't you think all that makes it look 
 very ugly for the boy, Mr. Fraser ? " 
 
 " I do, indeed ; it is so ugly that I think you are 
 quite warranted in doing all you can to stop the 
 marriage. If he is innocent he will not be frightened 
 by your charges, and if he be guilty, he will take 
 flight as soon as he hears them. We must not, 
 however, lend ourselves to any scheme for defeat- 
 ing justice. You may be called upon for your evi- 
 dence, some day, if more facts come to light, but 
 I don't think you are bound to take the first 
 steps." 
 
 "But, sir, I want to stop the marriage!" 
 
 "Well, and what do you propose I should do in 
 the matter?" 
 
 " Send for Giles to your house, and tell him you 
 
A LATE REPENTANCE. 197 
 
 know all about his goings on. Bid him give up 
 Minnie, and leave the country, or you will have 
 the law on him." 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Brown, you have a head on your 
 shoulders you were the only person in the parish 
 who refused to believe that Mr. Brown was drowned, 
 and now I think you have hit upon a plan which 
 may be successful. Here comes Mr. Brown ; we will 
 ask him. Mr. Brown, I have heard this sad story 
 about Giles Fletcher, and your wife suggests that 
 I should send for the lad, and tell him he must 
 submit to a searching inquiry into his conduct 
 before the marriage can take place. There seem 
 to be some ugly facts against the boy ; circum- 
 stantial evidence may hang an innocent man, and 
 we must be careful what we do or say. Now, if the 
 lad shows by his behaviour that he fears a strict 
 examination, and still more, if he makes off and 
 deserts the parish, we shall then be fully justified in 
 considering our suspicions well-founded. I will 
 write an abstract of the affair, and keep it in readi- 
 ness to send to Nonvich Castle. It is your wife's 
 idea, sir." 
 
 "Well done, Bess! She had been putting that 
 job on me this morning ; but I think, sir, tha^ you 
 are in a better position to do it." 
 
 " It is not a pleasant duty ; but we must not 
 allow poor Minnie to run into a snare, if we can 
 help it. But why should you not be a witness at 
 Giles's visit to my library ? " 
 
 " I am quite willing to come, and bring bowie 
 knife and revolver too. Perhaps the sight of them 
 might convince Master Giles he can't always have 
 his own way in this world." 
 
 "To-morrow evening, at six o'clock will that 
 suit you ? " 
 
 "Quite. Look, sir, there's my wife talking to 
 
198 VELVETEENS. 
 
 your daughter as sensible as one could wish any 
 woman to talk. It's difficult to believe that her 
 mind has been unhinged." 
 
 "I am very glad to see her so contented and 
 restful ; her face has lost much of that wild and 
 sorrowful expression which used to vex it : but 
 you must expect some trouble at times, I fear. 
 It was only on one point she was strange, you re- 
 member." 
 
 " Yes ; you all thought her mad, I know ; but 
 facts have proved that she was right, and the 
 community was mad." 
 
 Mr. Brown laughed till the hill re-echoed, and 
 the wood-pigeon cooed and flew across from the 
 fir-wood to the larches. 
 
 That afternoon a Victoria and a pair of bays were 
 carefully watched as they passed through Beck- 
 thorp. 
 
 Harry Bent, the cobbler, who was preparing his 
 snares as he chatted to Giles Fletcher, peered 
 through his little window at the grand equipage 
 rolling magnificently by. 
 
 " Look ye here, Giles, lad ; if there ain't old 
 Aunt Bess riding like a duchess along in a real, 
 spanking carriage." 
 
 The two men gazed in wonder at the strange 
 sight. 
 
 "Well, lad, you don't say nothing," said Harry, 
 clapping Giles on the shoulder, " and blow me ! if 
 you aren't as white as milk." 
 
 "Harry, you have meant well by me, I know," 
 said Giles, slowly, fixing his large, dark eyes on 
 Harry Bent's ferret-like face. "Yes, you have 
 meant well, I doubt not ; and you have taught me 
 the craft of snaring a hare and netting a pheasant ; 
 but God knows what evil you have wrought in me, 
 Harry, What might I have been if I had never 
 
GILES SAT DOWN, AND LEANED HIS HEAD ON HIS HANDS. 
 
 Page 199. 
 
A LATE REPENTANCE. 
 
 come across you ! I'm ashamed to think of what 
 I am now ; and that's the truth." 
 
 " Why, Giles, lad ! cheer up, my heartie. Have 
 a glass of gin and shake off the blues. Think of 
 the bonny fine nights we have had in the Squire's 
 coverts and plantations." 
 
 "I'll never poach again, Harry. I'll try and 
 turn over a new leaf, and live more worthy of her." 
 
 Harry whistled softly to himself, and the lean 
 lurcher that slept on the mat by the fire roused 
 herself, and cocked one ear. Giles sat down, and 
 leaned his head on his hands. After a long silence 
 he murmured to himself 
 
 "Angus Forbes, you have had your revenge. 
 You said to me in the wood, ' Giles, I leave you to 
 the great Judge of all the earth/ The great Judge 
 ah! I can see Him now. He has His black cap 
 on, and He is going to pronounce sentence on me." 
 
 Harry Bent went to the cupboard, and poured 
 out a glass of gin ; but, to his great astonishment, 
 Giles put aside the glass, and abruptly left the 
 house. 
 
 "Blessed if they Fletchers ain't all mad. First 
 it was Aunt Bessie, and her queer belief in Provi- 
 dence ; now we have Giles turning white at the 
 thought of the great Judge. The great Judge ! I 
 wonder if there's anything in it. Here goes the 
 gin, any way." 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A LOVER'S WALK. 
 
 SO-MORROW Minnie Fletcher is to be 
 married. She has been all the morning 
 in her mother-in-law's house, where she 
 is to live with Giles oh, how many 
 happy years ! There has been so much 
 to do, choosing the linen and the glass from the 
 thrifty savings of more than fifty years. 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher, Giles's mother, having no daughter 
 of her own, and not being so strong, as she had 
 been, was right glad to welcome Minnie to her 
 home, and had said over and over again to the 
 laughing girl 
 
 " This shall be yours, my dear ; and you may as 
 well have that, for I want little now." 
 
 " Oh, mother, you are stripping yourself of 'all 
 your best things ! " 
 
 " Never mind, child : no fear that Giles and I 
 shall quarrel ; he will let me share with you as 
 long as I live." 
 
 "It shan't be my fault, mother, if you're not 
 comfortable," said Minnie, giving her a kiss out 
 of gratitude. 
 
 That afternoon Giles called for her to take a 
 
A LOVER'S WALK. 2O I 
 
 walk on the cliff. It was a beautiful day ; a fresh 
 wind blew out of the north-west, and clouds scudded 
 swiftly across the sky, the shadows chasing one 
 another over the hills inland, and across the heather 
 and the green corn-lands and the smooth downs 
 and the bright, blue sea eastward. 
 
 When Giles and Minnie reached the stile where 
 the old hedger had waited on that eventful night, 
 the smile died out of young Fletcher's eyes, and 
 the lines of his mouth grew hard. 
 
 Minnie was so full of talk and laughter that 
 she did not notice his silence ; her happiness was 
 too deep to suspect the presence of any bitter 
 thought in her lover's mind. 
 
 They strolled along the edge of the cliff as 
 near, at least, as they dare, for the soil was ever 
 crumbling and falling, ^nd year by year the downs 
 were robbed of large slabs and slices of smooth 
 turf. 
 
 " I shall never want any pleasure beyond a walk 
 with you, Giles, on these cliffs ; so you need not 
 bother about me, and talk of taking me to Norwich, 
 or Peterborough, or London, if I ever look fagged. 
 All you have to do is to chuck me under the chin, 
 and say, ' Minnie, come for a walk on the cliff/ 
 and you'll see the trouble will pass away from my 
 eyes, and once more I shall be a light-hearted girl 
 again. Why, I've played on these cliffs ever since 
 I can remember ! and when you've spent so many 
 happy hours in a place, you come to love it ; don't 
 you think so, Giles ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, I suppose you do ; but come away 
 from the edge, or you'll be turning giddy. Minnie, 
 come back ! " 
 
 But Minnie was bent on looking over, just to 
 show Giles that he was not master yet. She caught 
 a glimpse of the blue water lapping on the stones, 
 
202 VELVETEENS. 
 
 of sunlight dancing on the level spaces between 
 the waves, and of a white fringe, as of lace, 
 stretching round the curve of the cliff. 
 
 Then she felt herself caught in a powerful grip 
 and almost flung on the smooth sward. Giles, 
 with flashing eyes stood over her, and drew a 
 deep sigh as he muttered 
 
 "This place is very dangerous, Minnie. Oh, you 
 have given me such a fright! I thought it was 
 the judgment of the great Judge coming on me. 
 Oh dear ! oh dear ! " 
 
 " What's the matter, Giles ? Why do you look 
 so frightened ? " 
 
 "What have I said?" asked Giles, coming to 
 himself again. 
 
 "Strange words about the judgment to come. 
 I don't understand you." 
 
 "I thought you were done for in this world, 
 Minnie ; like poor George, who fell over here when 
 he was drunk." 
 
 "But I'm not drunk, you silly," said the girl, 
 laughing. 
 
 " I am a silly, that's the truth. I was afraid 
 I was going to lose you, just like Mr. Brown did 
 Aunt Bessie. There's some queer fate hangs over 
 us Fletchers ; we always get the cup dashed 
 from our lips just when we think we are going 
 to have a nice, long pull at it. It's mortal hard 
 on us." 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense, Giles, about fate. I don't 
 believe in fate at all. I think if folks get 
 the cup snatched from them they probably de- 
 serve it." 
 
 "Oh, then, you put it down to Providence, do 
 you ? Well, you don't get much for'arder that 
 way. Look at the way good folks gets knocked 
 about in this life. David said he had never seen 
 
A LOVER'S WALK. 203 
 
 a good man in want ; but if he had lived in 
 this country he might have seen a many, mightn't 
 he?" 
 
 "Some good folks don't seem to use their wits, 
 Giles. I suppose we're not meant to act like idiots 
 when we've done saying our prayers." 
 
 "Well, then, what had Aunt Bessie and Harry 
 Brown done to bring upon them such a calamity ? " 
 
 "Done?" said Minnie, tickling Giles's nose with 
 a long bent of grass, as they sat side by side, on 
 the high slope. " Done ? I think that Harry richly 
 deserved his fate. What right had he to go rowing 
 out in a boat, all alone, just after he had got 
 married ? " 
 
 "Ha, ha! you are a good one for getting out 
 of a poser, you are. But, come now ! What had 
 poor Aunt Bessie done to call down all that long 
 suffering on her ? For I reckon she suffered most 
 of the two." 
 
 "That's easily answered, Master Wise-acre. 
 When she let her husband go out alone like that 
 she forgot her wifely duty ; she wanted a lesson, 
 and she got a sharper one than I should have given 
 her, to be sure." 
 
 "Minnie, there's no arguing with you, dear; 
 there's only one way of stopping your mouth." 
 
 " And how do you do that ? "" 
 
 " By kissing you on the lips." 
 
 " No, excuse me, Giles : to-morrow, if you don't 
 go out in a boat without me, you may do it to 
 your heart's content ; but this afternoon I am still 
 a modest maid." 
 
 "You're a lot too modest, Minnie; any other 
 girl would have let me kiss her." 
 
 " You wouldn't have me just like any other girl, 
 Giles?" 
 
 "I'm not so sure of that. You'll take a deal of 
 
204 VELVETEENS. 
 
 breaking in, I know. You have a will of your 
 own." 
 
 "I have ; there's to be no more poaching, 
 Giles." 
 
 " All right ; I am sick of the whole thing. I 
 told Bent to-day that I would have no more of 
 it. In fact, I showed him pretty plain that I was 
 tired of him and his ways." 
 
 " That's a good boy ! No more poaching ! That 
 will be one good step, won't it ? And the next 
 step, Giles ? " 
 
 "Well, pretty one, what's to be the next?" 
 
 "No more drinking at the Three Jolly-boats." 
 
 " Pooh ! I never have gone in for drinking, 
 lass ; and one goes in there just as a swell goes 
 to his club, to hear the news and spend an idle 
 hour." 
 
 "But, Giles, I shall want your idle hours now. 
 There will be nets to mend, and boats to paint, 
 and things to do to the house and garden, to make 
 all right for the visitors in the summer. And then, I 
 always mistrust that drink. Remember poor George 
 yonder." 
 
 Giles shuddered a little as he replied, " I'm not 
 like to forget it I was with him just before he 
 died." 
 
 "Yes, he sat by your side, didn't he, when you 
 were at the tavern ? Poor fellow, what did he 
 talk about ? " 
 
 " Oh, he was too drunk to talk much ! But let 
 us try and forget him, Minnie ; it's not nice talk 
 that." 
 
 " No, it makes one feel rather queer. Why, what 
 a lot of horrible things have happened in these last 
 few years ! There was the Squire's sudden death, 
 and then Jean Forbes has to go. I like Jean, and 
 I like her brother well enough. Poor things! 
 
A LOVER'S WALK. 205 
 
 they've got trouble enough, haven't they, Giles ? 
 To think of their father being shot like that 
 such a nice, well-mannered man as he was 
 too! Oh, I wish I had been by with a stout 
 cudgel ! " 
 
 Giles felt he had better say something, so he 
 said 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Why ! " repeated Minnie, her dark eyes flashing 
 fiercely ; " I would have dealt the murderer one on 
 the head, that's all." 
 
 Giles got up ; the conversation was not pleasing 
 to him. 
 
 " Let us walk on, Minnie ; it's rather chilly sitting 
 here." 
 
 Minnie allowed him to help her to her feet, but 
 her mind had not supped enough on horrors. 
 
 "I say, Giles, have you ever seen a dead 
 man?" 
 
 After a pause, Giles replied, "Yes, I've seen 
 some poor fellows who were drowned." 
 
 " Ah ! I suppose they look calm enough ; but a 
 murdered man, now ? I don't suppose you ever saw 
 the face of a murdered man, did you ? " 
 
 " How sweet the larks are singing up in the 
 clouds, Minnie." 
 
 "Yes, they are newly paired. Their wants are 
 provided for ; so* are ours, Giles : their consciences 
 are easy, so are ours: we, too, can sing and be 
 happy and thank God, can't we ? " 
 
 "Ah, my darling, I want to be happy, and I 
 want to be good ; will you teach me how ? But 
 when I try to be happy, evil thoughts come and 
 disturb me." 
 
 "But we are going to be happy, Giles. You 
 have promised me faithfully to give up your bad 
 companions, so we can be happy. Our consciences 
 
206 VELVETEENS. 
 
 will not reproach us any longer. I have full trust 
 in you, darling." 
 
 Giles pressed the little arm that lay in his. Full 
 trust in him ! it made him feel better in heart 
 already. If only this charming girl could be with 
 him in his hours of temptation, how easy would 
 it be for' him to resist evil. 
 
 They walked up and down the undulating cliff- 
 walk, still devising schemes for married life. 
 Minnie had gone into brighter themes for converse 
 now, and her merry laugh would at times disturb 
 the rabbit or the fieldfare ; while it made Giles 
 feel that, above the silent reproaches of his awaken- 
 ing conscience, he might enjoy the luxury of 
 having a music as sweet as it was innocent in its 
 source. 
 
 " Yes," he was saying to himself, " I think I am 
 the last person to be suspected now. Though 
 Angus Forbes knows my secret, he won't split. 
 And he is going to another part of the country 
 soon. Yes, I think I'm pretty safe. Probably he 
 was only making a guess when he got me down 
 and charged me with murdering his father ; and 
 nobody heard me confess to having done it. I 
 think I'm safe ; but, all the same, it's not very 
 comfortable living over a barrel of gunpowder. 
 If mother was dead, I would sell all and cut the 
 country go off with Minnie to New Zealand or 
 somewhere." 
 
 " What are you thinking of, Giles ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing in particular. You said just now 
 that you liked Angus Forbes. I know he is very 
 sweet on you, darling. How was it you did not 
 take him instead of me ? He's a fine chap, and so 
 steady." 
 
 "Why did I not take Angus Forbes?" asked 
 Minnie, taking her arm out o*f Giles's. "Well, I 
 
A LOVER'S WALK. 207 
 
 suppose I felt drawn to you most. I'm always a 
 little frightened when I am with Mr. Forbes ; and 
 I have known you ever since I was a baby. Besides, 
 Giles, I do so want to save you from your enemies." 
 
 " Enemies ! what enemies ? Do you know of any 
 one who wants to harm me, Minnie ? " 
 
 " Your own vices, dear boy ; don't look so scared. 
 But tell me, how is it you can speak of Mr. Forbes 
 in that calm way? Have you given over being 
 jealous of him ?" 
 
 " Yes, quite dropped all that. He has been very 
 generous to me, and we have made up all our 
 quarrel ; you need not fear I will be jealous of him 
 again. I really like the chap now ; he's a real 
 good-hearted one." 
 
 Minnie pondered over this change of sentiment 
 in Giles. She wondered how Forbes could have 
 found an opportunity for being generous ; but she 
 asked no questions, for she thought to herself 
 
 "To-morrow I am to be married to him, and it 
 will be my fault if I don't know all his secrets 
 before the week is out." 
 
 All his secrets ! Poor girl ! she had not fathomed 
 the depths of that mind, so weak, so crafty, so 
 insincere. They parted in the town-street, and 
 Giles went in to have tea with his mother. 
 
 "Giles," said she, "here's a note come for you 
 from Mr. Fraser. One of the young ladies brought 
 it. It's got ' important ' on it, and I said you should 
 be sure and attend tc it after tea." 
 
 Giles smiled as he broke the seal. "The parson 
 wants to tell me how I'm to behave at the wedding, 
 I guess." 
 
 But inside the letter were only these words : 
 
 " Giles, I want to see you at six this evening. 
 
 "C. FRASER." 
 
208 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " Bah ! he treats me like a small boy in the 
 choir ; but I shall let him know who I am." 
 
 His mother smiled, and looked proudly at her 
 son : to-morrow was to be the proudest day in her 
 life! 
 
 Giles was very silent during tea ; for he was 
 wondering if Angus had told the Vicar about that 
 Firleby Wood business, and whether that was the 
 reason why the Vicar had sent for him. Angus had 
 certainly exacted from him a promise not to marry 
 Minnie ; but he surely would not be so cruel, now 
 that he was going away. Still, he felt uneasy about 
 it very uneasy. Oh, if he could only get rid of 
 these terrible panics and misgivings! Life was 
 becoming very irksome to him, and the shadow of 
 the hangman fell across every pleasant path. 
 
HUH 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 AN ULTIMATUM. 
 
 R. BROWN had just had a cup of tea 
 with the Vicar and his three daughters, 
 entertaining them with yarns about his 
 life on the desert island and in the 
 Australian bush. 
 " It has struck six. I think we had better adjourn 
 to the library," said Mr. Fraser to his guest. 
 
 Accordingly the two men lit their pipes in the 
 small sanctum, whose window looked out into the 
 garden by the side of the house. 
 
 " Suppose he does not come ? " said Mr. Brown. 
 "I think he will," said the Vicar, blowing a 
 circle into the air ; " he will think it concerns his 
 wedding to-morrow." 
 
 " And he won't be far wrong, either, I reckon." 
 Then they fell to discussing the best way of 
 dealing with their man ; but, before they had settled 
 the method of procedure, a little girl ushered Giles 
 into the room. 
 
 He came in with a smile upon his lips, playing 
 unconcernedly with his sealskin cap. 
 
210 VELVETEENS. 
 
 "You sent for me, I believe, sir? Here I am, 
 you see ; pretty punctual, though the notice was 
 rather short." 
 
 As he was speaking he saw from the faces of 
 the two men before him that something was wrong, 
 and his voice grew softer as his sentence drew to 
 a close. 
 
 " Giles," said the Vicar, " please to shut the door 
 and sit down ; we have some serious business before 
 us, I am afraid." 
 
 Giles Fletcher's face turned pale for a moment, 
 but he sat down with rather a defiant air, and fired 
 the first shot. 
 
 " It is the poaching, I dare say, you want to talk 
 about ; but I have explained to Mr. Forbes, the 
 head keeper, how it was I went out the other day. 
 I have said good-bye to all that for ever now 
 word of honour, gentlemen." 
 
 "I wish you would say 'good-bye' to Minnie 
 Fletcher, too," said Mr. Brown, tapping the ashes 
 out of his pipe. 
 
 " Do you ? It strikes me you're rather too late 
 in your wishes." 
 
 " I don't think I am, young man ; and let me tell 
 you that you may as well adopt a more becoming 
 manner here." 
 
 " I'm as good as you, Mr. Brown ; you needn't 
 give yourself airs on account of your money, which 
 you never earned." 
 
 "I did not commit murder to obtain it, Giles 
 Fletcher." 
 
 Giles tried to brazen it out, and replied fiercely 
 
 " If you sent for me, Mr. Fraser, for this fellow to 
 insult me, I think I'd better be going home." 
 
 "No insult is intended, Giles Fletcher," said the 
 Vicar; "but Mr. Brown, as the husband of a Miss 
 Fletcher, objects to your marrying Minnie ; and the 
 
AN ULTIMATUM. 211 
 
 objection rests on a very serious charge which we 
 wish you to hear." 
 
 " Well, sir, I have been a good friend of yours, 
 all my life ; it does seem an unneighbourly thing to 
 spring charges upon a chap like this on the day 
 before his wedding." 
 
 " I'm sorry I'm so late," said Mr. Brown ; " but it 
 was not until yesterday that I heard all the evidence 
 there was against you." 
 
 At the word " evidence " Giles started, but, quickly 
 recovering, replied 
 
 "People talk about evidence when they mean 
 scandal. What do you charge me with ? Let's have 
 it out at once." 
 
 "I charge you with murdering Mr. Forbes in 
 Firleby wood." 
 
 Giles started to his feet, and thumped his fist on 
 the table as he shouted in reply 
 
 " It's a lie ! a devilish lie ! " 
 
 " I wish it was, Giles, with all my heart," said 
 the Vicar. 
 
 "What's the evidence, sir? I can't speak to him." 
 
 "A ram-rod was found near the body." 
 
 " What of that ? it wasn't mine." 
 
 " It belonged to your gun ; both the gun and the 
 ram-rod had the figure of a seal engraved upon 
 them." 
 
 " Oh, then it was my gun. I beg your pardon, sir. 
 Now, who had been using my gun, I wonder ? 
 Nothing easier than for one of the boys to go to the 
 place where we keep them, and take out my gun. 
 I am surprised at your bringing such a disgraceful 
 charge on such trumpery evidence." 
 
 "That's not all, young man. I have other evi- 
 dence," said Mr. Brown. 
 
 Giles leaned across the table, and shook his fist, 
 saying 
 
212 VELVETEENS. 
 
 "You villain, you've some deep design in all 
 this." 
 
 Mr. Brown removed his pocket-handkerchief 
 quietly from the table, and disclosed a very pretty 
 revolver. He tapped it with his two fingers, and 
 said softly 
 
 " I have provided against accidents, you see ; so 
 bullying won't pay. Sit down, you young scoundrel, 
 and hear us patiently. The village policeman is 
 in the kitchen ; if you don't obey us, we will give 
 you in charge. Sit down, I say." 
 
 " Yes, sit down, Giles ; you will gain nothing by 
 violence. And understand that we do not wish to 
 press you unfairly ; but these are grave facts which 
 you must explain to us." 
 
 Giles sat down, looking flushed and anxious. 
 
 Mr. Brow r n resumed : " You were out with the 
 poachers that night ; of this \ve can bring the 
 evidence of eye-witnesses." 
 
 " I was out a bit, but I had gone home before 
 that happened." 
 
 " Leaving your gun in the charge of some one 
 else ? " 
 
 Giles nodded assent, and sat back defiantly. 
 
 "But I believe you were bitten by a dog that 
 night?" 
 
 " Well, yes, I was ; some time before Mr. Forbes 
 was shot." 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; the dog was not let loose 
 until the fatal shot was fired, as you well know." 
 
 " It was not the mastiff that bit me ; it was 
 another dog." 
 
 "Giles," said the Vicar, in solemn tones, "what 
 do you know about a mastiff? the word ' mastiff ' 
 was never mentioned." 
 
 " No, sir ; but I have talked a good 'deal to the 
 boys about that night's doings, and I have heard 
 
AN ULTIMATUM. 213 
 
 how the mastiff was let loose and bit some one. 
 I think it was poor old George." 
 
 "You see," said Mr. Brown, "he is a slippery 
 customer has an answer ready for every one." 
 
 " Do you mean to say, Giles," went on the Vicar, 
 "that you were bitten by one of your own dogs, 
 that knew you so well ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir. You see, there were some Yarmouth 
 boys out that night. I had never seen them before, 
 nor their dogs. I had to whip one of the dogs for 
 giving tongue, and he bit me in the arm." 
 
 " Do you know the mastiff up at the keeper's ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ; seen him lots of times." 
 
 "Ah, I suppose he knows you too, and would 
 hardly be likely to fly at you ? " 
 
 Giles brightened up ; after all, the Vicar was 
 trying to help him out of his difficulty. He replied 
 briskly 
 
 "The dog knows me well wouldn't fly at me, 
 certainly not." 
 
 "Then, how do you account, Giles," said the 
 Vicar, " for that mastiff trying to fly at you in the 
 street a few weeks after that night in the wood ? 
 For I am told that, unless young Forbes had held 
 him in a chain, he would have jumped at your 
 throat." 
 
 "It was not me he wanted to get at, but my 
 dog ; he always goes like that when he sees my 
 dog." 
 
 " If that mastiff were to be posted at the church 
 door to-morrow, you don't fear he would fly at you ? " 
 
 " Not unless he smelt my dog, sir." 
 
 "Very well. Now, Mr. Brown, you wish, I think, 
 to have a few words in private with Giles." 
 
 " Yes, if you please, Mr. Fraser ; if we cannot 
 prove our charges, we must try other arguments." 
 
 " Giles," said Mr. Brown, when they were alone, 
 
214 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " old George said that he was out that night 
 with you, and saw you bitten by the mastiff. Of 
 course, I know this is no evidence against you ; 
 but still, straws tell which way the wind blows. 
 What have you to say to this ? " I 
 
 " Only this, sir, that old George had a bit of a 
 grudge against me, and when he was drunk he 
 would make up stories that everybody in his senses 
 knew to be false." j 
 
 "You knew that he had a grudge against you, 
 before he died ? " 
 
 " Yes, I did ; he tried to get money out of me 
 by threatening to accuse me of this and that." i 
 
 "You were not with him when he fell from 
 the cliff?" 
 
 " No, sir ; I had been sitting near him at the 
 tavern, but I had gone with my dog after a rabbit, 
 and when I came back I heard he had fallen over." 
 
 Mr. Brown paused a long while, then asked ' 
 
 " Had you such fear of the old man's threats 
 that you wished him dead ? " 
 
 " Not I ; it made no matter to me what he said. 
 I was as innocent as a babe unborn and a good 
 deal more so." 
 
 Mr. Brown smiled a slow smile, and asked 
 quietly 
 
 " This being the case, it was hardly necessary for 
 you to push the poor fellow over the cliff yonder." 
 
 "Who says I did it? it's a shameful lie." 
 
 "This bit of satin says you did." And Mr. Brown 
 drew from his breast pocket the neck-tie which 
 his wife had found, and which he laid on the table 
 beside the revolver. 
 
 Giles looked at the neck-tie, and said, "I don't 
 understand what you are driving at, master. Just 
 let me have it in my hands." 
 
 "No, you don't," said Mr. Brown, putting his 
 
AN ULTIMATUM. 215 
 
 large hand upon the satin. "This is worth a man's 
 life." 
 
 Giles breathed hard and the colour left his cheek ; 
 he began to feel that he was trapped in a hole from 
 which there was no way out. But he murmured in 
 a hollow voice 
 
 " It never was mine, sir, never ! " 
 
 " Then, why did your good mother work your 
 name on it ? " said Mr. Brown, pointing out the 
 neat red letters. 
 
 Giles gasped for breath ; he was hardly pre- 
 pared with a reply. 
 
 " Now, lad, it is quite useless to tell another lie. 
 You might say, you had given him the tie ; but 
 why was he clutching it in his death- grip? You 
 might say 
 
 " Please, sir, who says he found it so ? " 
 
 " I cannot give you the name ; but it was one 
 who wishes you well, and whom it would be idle 
 to distrust." 
 
 Giles sat for a minute looking on the ground ; 
 his mind was rapidly going through all possible 
 reasons for old George having that neck-tie in his 
 death-grasp. At last he looked up, and said 
 
 " It must be so, as I thought it was at first. 
 George and I had a bit of a squabble in the 
 tavern, and he snatched at my neck just before 
 he went out. I never missed my tie ; and when 
 I went to bed that night, I thought I must have 
 gone without one all day, as I often do ; so I took 
 no heed. I own it looks queer to one who doesn't 
 know the facts ; but I hope and trust you will 
 believe me when I " 
 
 "Believe you?" said Mr. Brown, taking up his 
 revolver ; " not a word of truth in what you have 
 said this evening not a word of truth. Now, look 
 here, young man : I'm not going to have that g'Vl, 
 
2l6 VELVETEENS. 
 
 Minnie Fletcher, married to a poacher, a liar, a 
 murderer! You have got to choose in the next 
 ten minutes which you will do. Will you stay here 
 and be arrested for murder, or will you leave the 
 place and ship for the colonies ? If you will stay 
 here, I will see that a policeman is in attendance 
 to arrest you before you enter the church ; if, on 
 the other hand, you elect to try your luck in the 
 colonies, I will get you a passage to New Zealand 
 or Australia. But you must choose now, and start 
 in less than two hours' time. I am breaking the 
 law by not giving you into custody ; I risk that for 
 the sake of your family." 
 
 Giles Fletcher had been writhing like a worm 
 during this speech ; but it was evidently a relief. to 
 him to escape the clutch of the law. 
 
 At this moment the Vicar returned to the room, 
 saying 
 
 "Well, Mr. Brown, have your arguments been 
 more efficacious than mine ? " 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Fraser, I think I have shown this 
 young man that he can have no hope of marrying 
 Minnie ; he has not in words yet promised to relin- 
 quish the attempt, but I think he will now hardly 
 care to refuse my offer." 
 
 "I am glad, and yet I am sorry," said the 
 Vicar. " I am glad for Minnie's sake ; but I cannot 
 help being very sorry for your mother, Giles. Poor 
 woman ! it is enough to break her heart. And 
 then, think of the cruel blow to Minnie herself. 
 It is too terrible ! I cannot suppose that Mr. Brown 
 has bribed you to go and leave the poor girl ; you 
 would not do that, I believe. There must be some 
 grave misdeeds of yours which you fear may come 
 to light if you stay. I am not at all sure that it is 
 not our duty to give what evidence we have to 
 the police," 
 
AN ULTIMATUM. 217 
 
 Giles had melted at the thought of his mother's 
 sorrow ; the tears stood in his eyes, as he faltered out 
 
 " Oh, sir, think of my poor mother, and give me 
 one more chance, just one more, sir. I see it all 
 now : I was led on without thinking of the conse- 
 quences. Oh, sir, God is merciful, and His ministers 
 are merciful too." 
 
 The Vicar rose, and said sternly, " Don't play the 
 canting hypocrite here, young man. It is true God's 
 ministers should be merciful ; but to whom ? To 
 a young innocent girl, or to a mean, selfish, and 
 unprincipled villain ? For this, and nothing else, 
 is what you have become. No, I will exercise no 
 mercy which will do a wrong to the innocent. Your 
 very presence among us might poison the moral 
 atmosphere of the parish. If you are not guilty 
 of the graver charges, you have made friends of 
 poachers and murderers. You must go ; leave to 
 me the duty of informing your poor mother and 
 Minnie Fletcher about your departure. I will 
 break it as softly as I can to your widowed 
 mother." 
 
 The murderer had fine feelings and emotions 
 tenderer than most men ; he was sobbing as if his 
 poor little heart would break. Plato would have 
 seen in it fresh evidence that all sin is the result 
 and outcome of ignorance. If, as Giles had said, 
 he had only known all the consequences of his acts, 
 how differently he would have acted ! 
 
 In other words, it was not the sin he hated, but 
 the punishment thereof. The Vicar thought that 
 there was little hope of immediate amendment in 
 a fellow of that kidney. 
 
 It was agreed, therefore, that Giles should be 
 locked up in a room in the Vicarage until such 
 things as he desired could be fetched from his 
 home. 
 
2l8 VELVETEENS. 
 
 "Now, sir," said Mr. Brown to the Vicar, when 
 they were walking alone in the garden, "as this 
 boy prefers to decamp rather than meet a jury 
 of his countrymen, I guess you will not open the 
 church for to-morrow's ceremonial." 
 
 " It would be rather a farce certainly to pretend 
 we were waiting for the bridegroom ; but I shall 
 wait till to-morrow before I say anything. To- 
 morrow I must go to poor Minnie, and break the 
 terrible news to her as well as I can." 
 
 " Girls are sad fools, sir. I understand she might 
 have had that young Forbes, who is a really worthy 
 fellow." 
 
 "Ah, Brown, it is no use for you or me to 
 criticize the feminine instinct. Well, I thank you 
 for coming. Good night. Have you got your stick 
 and revolver ? " 
 
 "All right. Good night, sir." 
 
 Then the Vicar went to his desk and took out 
 the memorandum which he had drawn up regarding 
 the keeper's death ; this he signed and sealed, then 
 rang for the constable. 
 
 " Atkins, put this in the post, as you go home ; 
 keep an eye on Giles Fletcher, if you see him about ; 
 there is something wrong." 
 
 The constable saluted, and left the house. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 
 
 MR. BROWN'S COURIER. 
 
 [EAN FORBES and her brother had been 
 dining at the big hotel as the guests of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Brown. The latter had 
 jumped up several times during dinner 
 " to save " the poor waiter, and had made 
 round eyes at her husband when he, with his usual 
 recklessness, had ordered sparkling wine. Poor 
 Angus could not help thinking of to-morrow's wed- 
 ding, for Mr. Brown had not yet told any of them 
 what had been done at the Vicarage ; his wife knew 
 that Giles was to be met at six o'clock, but Mr. 
 Brown had returned from Beckthorp late for dinner, 
 the guests were already in the room, and there had 
 been no time to say anything in private. Angus 
 had, however, resolved in his mind to have Giles 
 arrested, if he persisted in his intention of marriage. 
 After dinner they sat by the open window, look- 
 ing out upon the cliff. There were no houses between t 
 them and the sea, though it was a six minutes' walk 
 to the water's edge. The afternoon had been close 
 and sultry, and now the sheet lightning was play- 
 ing round the sky and revealing transient glimpses 
 of white sails and green slopes and red-tiled village 
 on the right. 
 
220 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " Well, Forbes, have you made up your mind yet?'* 
 
 " Yes, I think I have, and many thanks to you, 
 sir. Jean says she should like nothing better than 
 to live in Australia ; so, if you're satisfied, I am 
 sure we are." 
 
 " Capital ! Do you hear that, Bess ? They will 
 come with us. You won't feel so strange, now, 
 will you ? " 
 
 "Thank you, Jeannie,' 1 said Mrs. Brown; "you 
 have made me so happy, you can't think. I couldn't 
 a-bear going out alone to them savages only 
 think of it ! " 
 
 " She will have it we're all savages in Australia," 
 laughed Mr. Brown. "As soon as I get her to 
 Melbourne, I shall take her to the biggest hotel, 
 and get her a box at the theatre. Oh, I'll take 
 the savage notions out of her, trust me ! " 
 
 "I wonder what poor Minnie is doing to-night," 
 said Mrs. Brown, by way of giving her husband a cue. 
 
 "Ah, by-the-by, is that door shut? No savage 
 waiters lurking behind the coal-scuttle ? Well, 
 then, listen to me. We met Giles Fletcher at the 
 Vicarage, and frightened him out of his wedding. 
 He went away an hour ago." 
 
 " What's that you say ? " exclaimed Angus, who 
 had been leaning out of the window, listening to 
 the voices of the night. " Gone away, do you say ? 
 Where to?" 
 
 " To the station. My man has gone with him ; he 
 is to see him safe on board ship, for New Zealand, 
 where he may do very well, if he turns over about 
 fifteen new leaves." 
 
 Angus had forgotten all about the sounds of the 
 night now. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me that Giles Fletcher has 
 given up Minnie, and chosen to run away ? " 
 
 " Well, he had not much of a choice ; if he stayed 
 
MR. BROWN'S COURIER. 221 
 
 here, it might have been a hanging matter. Now 
 the girl is free once more." 
 
 " Poor Minnie ! what a dreadful shock it will be 
 for her ! " murmured Angus, half to himself. 
 
 " She deserves something of that nature, Forbes, 
 for preferring that young rascal to you." 
 
 Angus blushed. " I don't wonder at her choice. 
 I'm an awful blunderer when I get amongst that 
 sex. I always say the things they don't like to 
 hear." 
 
 "And Giles," put in Jean, "had such a happy 
 knack of saying pleasant things, that most girls 
 would be more taken with Giles than with my 
 brother. Still, she has had time to find out what 
 they're stuffed with, for certain." 
 
 " You mean, she has sat upon them both, 
 perhaps ? " 
 
 Jean smiled and curled her lip. Being Scotch, 
 she hardly approved of such levity in a man over 
 forty. 
 
 "Who is going to break the news to her?" 
 asked Angus. 
 
 "And to his poor mother ? " added Mrs. Brown. 
 
 "The Vicar will go down and let them know, 
 he says." 
 
 " Poor Minnie," repeated Angus ; " I am glad I had 
 nothing to do in the matter. But it's very sudden : 
 what money could he take with him, or what 
 things ? " 
 
 "We sent down for some clothes. His mother 
 would think they were for his wedding trip. And 
 we made him up a little purse." 
 
 "We!" cried Mrs. Brown, indignantly; "you 
 aren't going to tell me that you've wasted more 
 money on that Well, I never did ! I never 
 did ! " 
 
 Mrs, Brown looked so exactly "as if she never 
 
222 VELVETEENS. 
 
 did/' that all the company forgot their manners 
 and laughed outright. 
 
 At this moment there was a tap at the door, and 
 a head appeared. It was the valet, courier, confi- 
 dential servant. His hair was towselled about his 
 face, and his expression was that of one who has 
 been foiled. 
 
 " Hi, William ! What on earth brings you back 
 
 again ? ' 
 
 But William replied in the softest of asides, 
 " Could I speak with you privately, sir ? " 
 
 "We are all in the secret of your errand. You 
 may speak. Bless the fellow ! I hope he has not 
 brought Giles back." 
 
 " I have travelled in Siberia, Russia, Italy, Sicily, 
 the Holy Land, but never in all my life have I 
 felt so foolish, sir, as I do to-night. I return like 
 an absolute fool." 
 
 " You do, William," replied Mr. Brown, tartly. " I 
 understand you to say that you have made a fool 
 of yourself in divers parts of the world, but never 
 such an egregious fool as to-night ; eh, William ? " 
 
 " Something of that nature, ladies and gentlemen. 
 Thinking I had to do with a country bumpkin, I 
 allowed myself to be taken off my guard. Such a 
 thing has seldom happened to me in 
 
 "Come, come ! your story, sir; what has happed?" 
 
 "I beg pardon for my long and prolix state- 
 ments. It is not my habit to have recourse to 
 circumlocutory " 
 
 "Now then, William, cut the long words and 
 tell us your story." 
 
 Mr. William pulled up short with an aggrieved 
 air, then with a sigh he stroked his dark moustache, 
 and put his hand in his bosom, and began again 
 
 "We set off as nice as could be in the dog-cart, 
 with his little bundle of things behind. For the first 
 
MR. BROWN'S COURIER. 223 
 
 half-hour he said little, though I tried to draw him 
 out on the subject of pheasants' eggs. But soon he 
 began to thaw, and speak so nice and pleasant 
 that, as I said, it was a real pleasure to drive him, 
 and I gave him several useful hints about colonial 
 life. The boy who rode behind was quite won 
 over, he has told me since, to the idea of trans- 
 portation." 
 
 " Perhaps you mean emigration," said Mr. Brown. 
 
 " Pardon me, emigration is a better word without 
 doubt ; so, then, we crossed the moors and traversed 
 the high land, and had reached a wooded country, 
 where it grew wondrous dark, and, as the hill was 
 steep, the man, Giles, suggested that he should 
 get down and walk. I got down too, and then he 
 fell to talking of the beautiful girl to whom he 
 was to be married to-morrow. And his voice 
 grew so sweet and pathetic I felt a great lump 
 rise in my throat ; and, if the Vicar's pony had 
 not stumbled, I think I should have given way to 
 an access of tears." 
 
 " Great ass ! " murmured Mr. Brown, unsympa- 
 thetically. 
 
 " ' Ought a man to desert the girl he loves ? ' he 
 asked me once. 
 
 " ' That all depends on circumstances/ I replied ; 
 'I understand that your circumstances just now 
 are urgent for you to go to foreign parts. If the 
 girl loves you, she will wait till you return to claim 
 her.' 
 
 " ' It's a long way to New Zealand,' said he, ' and 
 will cost a mint of money.' 
 
 "'But my Mr. Brown has got you a ticket or 
 free pass. He's a director/ said I. 
 
 " ' Yes, I know/ says he, in an absent way in 
 fact, he became very absent, and didn't seem to 
 hear my remarks." 
 
224 VELVETEENS. 
 
 "How very annoying for you ! I suppose, William, 
 there's something coming soon, or you wouldn't be 
 here?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, I'm coming to the end of it now. We 
 had attained the summit of the declivity, and I had 
 climbed to my seat. He began feeling about as if ^ 
 he was trying to find a place for his foot in the 
 dark. I heard him climb up, and felt the gig 
 shake when he took his seat. I then tried to 
 comfort him, and spoke of the charms of a well- 
 appointed ship, and, having made a pleasant jest, 
 I nudged him in the ribs ; that is to say, my first 
 nudge fell short, so I tried a second a long nudge, 
 but my elbow went trailing out into space. Then 
 my brow grew clammy. I clapped my hand on the 
 seat. It was as I had thought the seat was 
 vacant ! warm, but vacant ! " 
 
 " Do you mean to say you have let him escape ? " 
 
 " Sir, there are circumstances which baffle human 
 skill. This young man was sitting by my side, 
 listening to my talk ; suddenly he was gone. I 
 was driving, my hands were occupied, but I felt 
 certain he sat beside me ; and yet I was deceived ; 
 I confess it, I was deceived." 
 
 "Well, there's one good thing, I had put the 
 money in your yellow bag ; so we have saved that 
 expense, Bess." 
 
 Mr. William glanced down his nose, and stroked 
 his hat meditatively ; then, with a clearing of his 
 throat, began 
 
 "I am sorry to say that, when we reached the 
 station, the yellow bag was no longer under the 
 seat." 
 
 "Well, I never!" cried Mrs. Brown. 
 
 " But that is stealing," said Angus. " The bag, it 
 seems, did not belong to him." 
 
 "I beg pardon," broke in the courteous courier; 
 
MR BROWN'S COURIER. 225 
 
 "the young man had made me promise to change 
 bags with him. I consented to this, as my own 
 the yellow one was growing old and infirm, but I 
 never thought of his deep designs." 
 
 Mr. Brown sat back in his chair, and laughed. 
 
 " I'll tell you what, William, I'll tell you what : 
 if that young man comes back, I shall give him 
 your place. He's a much sharper chap than you 
 are ; and you can turn poacher. I've seen you 
 poach an egg, by Jove. Ha, ha ! so you let him go 
 off with the yellow guineas, bag and all." 
 
 " Can I do anything else* this evening ? " asked 
 the poor, crestfallen man, in a subdued tone. 
 
 "You've done plenty for one day, thank you. 
 Go and ask the cook to have mercy on you I 
 can't." 
 
 When William's soft footfall had died away, Mr. 
 Brown said 
 
 "Now, Bess, you're this lad's relation, and you 
 know his ways. What do you think he will do ? 
 Turn up for the wedding eh ? " 
 
 " Yes ; he loves the poor girl fondly, though he 
 has acted so wickedly. I don't think he will desert 
 her." 
 
 " But if he comes back he will be taken up ; he 
 knows that." 
 
 Jean Forbes replied, "I shouldn't wonder if he 
 had been back already, and taken the girl away 
 while you gentlemen were talking. He's a lad of 
 action, Giles is." 
 
 A look of horror passed over every face. 
 
 "Angus Forbes," said Mrs. Brown, "will you 
 run across to Minnie's house and try and see John 
 Fletcher ? Warn him not to lose sight of Minnie. 
 Tell him I sent you." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Brown, "and tell him it is our 
 wish that Minnie should not leave the house under 
 
226 
 
 VELVETEENS. 
 
 any pretext. We will explain our reasons to-morrow, 
 tell him." 
 
 Angus was reluctant to go to Minnie's house on 
 the eve of her wedding, but he could not refuse the 
 general wish ; so he put a bold face on it, and, 
 taking his hat, ran down the grand staircase as if 
 he knew Giles was decoying his tame pheasants. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 MINNIE'S LAST NIGHT AT HOME. 
 
 INNIE FLETCHER was sitting at the 
 table in the back keeping-room, putting 
 a few last touches to her bonnet. John 
 sat with his legs up, and a long pipe in 
 his mouth, and was contemplating Minnie 
 between the whiffs, as he stroked his bushy black 
 beard and whiskers with the right hand. He was 
 thinking how comely she was, and how he should 
 miss her. First Aunt Bessie went, then Minnie, and 
 now poor John Fletcher is left alone ; and who was 
 to do for him now ? He began to think he should 
 have to get married too ; but what lass was good 
 enough for him ? 
 
 "John, this is our last night together, and you 
 have nothing to say ; you sit and smoke, and think 
 smoke and think." 
 
 " Well, isn't it enough to make one think ? Who's 
 to make my tea when you're gone ? But I wasn't 
 altogether thinking of myself, Minnie ; I was looking 
 at the bloom on your cheek, and wondering whether 
 it would be as young-looking and happy a face in 
 six months', aye, or in six weeks' time, as it is 
 
228 VELVETEENS. 
 
 now. Marriage is such a game at hazard, my dear ; 
 and I do so want you to be happy." 
 
 " I'm sure I thank you, John ; but you always 
 did fear evil before it came. You always feared 
 you should cut your nets and lose your lobster-pots 
 you know you did, John ; but it seldom happened. 
 Now, I have chosen a most affectionate boy to be 
 
 m y Hark ! a step ! Here he comes ! No ; well, 
 
 if it isn't Mr. Forbes ! " 
 
 " Good evening, Minnie Fletcher," said Angus. 
 
 " Now, that is good of you," said Minnie, colouring 
 as she rose to give him her hand. " I was afraid 
 that you would never come near me any more. 
 But this is good of you, Mr. Forbes ; isn't it, John ? " 
 
 "Aye," said John, nodding at the bowl of his 
 pipe, " I dare say it has cost him something to put 
 his pride in his pocket, and come down to wish you 
 good luck." 
 
 "And I do pray God you may have a happy 
 life," stammered Angus, leaning forward with a 
 clenched hand on the table ; " I do wish you all 
 joy in life. It is true I had once thought you might 
 have chosen me ; I thought I could have provided 
 for you, and made you a good husband. I do love 
 you still, I own it." 
 
 At this moment a face peered in from the dark- 
 ness of the passage \vithout ; the face was that of 
 Giles. He must have heard the last words, for his 
 mouth fell open as if a great shock of disappoint- 
 ment had come to him. Not one of the three occu- 
 pants of the back parlour had noticed him, and he 
 retired with a noiseless tread, as he had come. 
 
 Angus had stopped a moment to repress a queer 
 choking sensation which was troubling him, but he 
 went on, watching Minnie's face as she sat at her 
 work. 
 
 " Women must choose ; we men can only ask." 
 
MINNIE'S LAST NIGHT AT HOME. 22Q 
 
 "Those who ask don't have," said John, taking 
 his pipe out of his mouth for the clearer utterance 
 of this original comment. Angus unfortunately did 
 not even smile. 
 
 " Women sometimes choose unwisely," said 
 Minnie, as she deftly wound her cotton round a new 
 button and snapped it off with her teeth. " And as I 
 know you think me rash in choosing Giles, I thank 
 you all the more for not owing me a grudge, Mr. 
 Forbes. In my own mind I am performing a duty 
 to Giles in marrying him ; he wants some one to 
 keep him straight, doesn't he ? " 
 
 " He has wanted some one for years," said Angus. 
 " I can only say that when I taxed him with certain 
 things he seemed repentant, and I forgave him. 
 Remember, Minnie, whatever may happen, I forgive 
 him ; and I am ready to help you, or him, or both of 
 you." 
 
 "Thank you," said the girl, rather coldly. "You say 
 ' whatever may happen,' as if you thought I shouldn't 
 be happy very long ; but remember, Angus Forbes, 
 however happy and prosperous I may be with Giles, 
 I forgive you for your suspicions." 
 
 Angus could not take his eyes off the girl, who sat 
 there so unconscious of her fate. He longed to tell 
 her what Giles had done, and how blind she had 
 been, and how unlikely it was that her wedding 
 should take place on the morrow. But he felt that 
 it was not his place to act as adviser, and he knew 
 the Vicar would do it much better. He coughed 
 once or twice to attract the attention of John, but 
 that worthy had his feet higher than his head, and 
 had abstracted his soul from common things. Angus 
 \vas obliged to go round the table and tap him on 
 the shoulder twice before he would attend. 
 
 " John, may I have a word with you, outside ? " 
 
 " Can't you say it here, man ? I'm riding at anchor, 
 
230 VELVETEENS. 
 
 and don't want to weigh now, and Well, what 
 are you at ? " 
 
 Angus had nodded and winked in vain. 
 
 " It's a bit of business I am told by Mrs. Brown to 
 do, but, if you won't let me, I must go back to her." 
 
 When John Fletcher heard it was Aunt Bessie's 
 message, he slowly rose with a grunt, saying 
 
 " Oh, if it be Aunt Bessie, she be such an un- 
 common big swell in these parts, you know, one 
 of the quality 
 
 " May I not hear it ? " asked Minnie, with a laugh. 
 
 " Not just yet, I'm afraid/' answered Angus. 
 
 " John/' he went on, after they had gained the little 
 plot of garden in front of the house, " there's some 
 hitch on about Giles Fletcher ; he's got into a row, 
 and has been to see the Vicar about it. The result 
 is, he may want to get Minnie away to-night, or 
 early to-morrow. Now, you will prevent this, won't 
 you ? You want Minnie to be married in church 
 before she goes away, don't you ? " 
 
 " I fancy I do," said John, setting his teeth. 
 
 "If Giles, to spite the Vicar, or for any other 
 reason, seeks to take Minnie away to be married 
 somewhere else 
 
 "If he do seek, he shall not have my consent 
 to it." 
 
 "Thank you, John. I may tell Mrs. Brown you 
 will keep an eye on Minnie to-night ? " 
 
 "Ay, ay; girl shall go to bed right early: door 
 shall be bolted. Giles better mind how he comes 
 trapessing here." 
 
 And with a " Good night," the two men separated. 
 
 Now Giles had run back to Beckthorp for three 
 things. First he wished to explain to his mother how 
 it was he was 'leaving the village ; for he loved his 
 mother after a fashion, and would not willingly 
 have given her pain. He had concocted a little 
 
MINNIE'S LAST NJGIIT AT HOME. 231 
 
 story of disagreement with the Vicar, which would, 
 he hoped, account to her for his sudden departure, 
 and leave her in peace of mind. Secondly, he had 
 come home for more money. It was his idea to 
 go to Grimsby and invest in a share of a steam 
 trawler. He had known other men do the same 
 with success. Thirdly, he had come home for 
 Minnie. If she would not come away with him, he 
 might at least arrange that they should meet at 
 Grimsby. What was life without Minnie ? For 
 dear, sweet Minnie he felt he would freely give his 
 well, a good deal ; and that, for Giles, meant a 
 considerable sacrifice. 
 
 But when he had heard, on entering John's house, 
 those words from the lips of Angus, " I do love you 
 still ; I own it," he felt that his happiness was never 
 more near to being wrecked than now. He hurried 
 back to his mother's house in anger, disappointment, 
 and fear. For what did those words mean ? They 
 meant that Forbes had gone to Minnie and told 
 her all about his doings, and his being sent off to 
 the colonies. He had not seen the poor girl's face, 
 but her head was bent down, and no doubt she was 
 weeping, bitterly weeping, whilst this sanctimonious 
 sneak was taking advantage of her distress to say 
 how he loved her! 
 
 Savagely did Giles bite his lips. "And then," 
 he reflected, "the fellow will spread the tale all 
 round the village ; if I am caught here, I am as 
 good as booked for Norwich gaol." 
 
 Giles, accordingly, having sworn his mother to 
 secrecy, set off with his bag of money. The yellow 
 bag was now rather heavy, but the fear of the judge 
 with the black cap acted as a spur. His poor 
 mother, bewildered and dishonoured, in her own 
 eyes to-night, in the eyes of her neighbours to- 
 morrow, sat down and cried first as a little child 
 
232 VELVETEENS. 
 
 cries who is frightened at being left alone, presently 
 as a mother cries whose darling boy has been 
 taken from her. 
 
 Meanwhile, Angus Forbes had gone back to the 
 hotel, and told them how he had warned John 
 Fletcher to keep an eye upon Minnie. So far all 
 was right. But the Vicar must be told now about the 
 escape of Giles, and consulted about the next step. 
 
 Accordingly it was agreed that Forbes and his 
 sister should call at the Vicarage on their way 
 home. 
 
 The Vicar's children and servants had gone to 
 bed when Angus rang the bell ; the Vicar was 
 sitting in his library smoking, and he himself 
 opened the door to Angus. 
 
 " Come in, come in, Miss Forbes, if you don't 
 mind the smell of tobacco. Some news brings you 
 here, doesn't it ? " 
 
 "You have heard that Giles has not gone by 
 train has run off somewhere ? " said Angus. 
 
 " No ; my boy returned with the pony-cart, but 
 he has not told me anything the little stupid/' 
 
 " Well, he made off with the bag of money, which 
 was his, I suppose, bag and all ; for he managed to 
 exchange bags with William. The question is, what 
 is he going to do ? " 
 
 " Dear me ; how very tiresome ! " said the Vicar, 
 knocking the ashes out of his pipe. " Will he return 
 to marry Minnie, or will he try to carry her off? " 
 
 " We have seen to that, sir. I have warned John 
 Fletcher." 
 
 " As Giles has declined to accept our offer, I see 
 no help for it ; the wedding must take place." 
 
 " Or Giles must be arrested," said Jean. 
 
 "What a terrible alternative," replied the Vicar; 
 " either of them is appalling. Still, I see no help 
 for it, unless we can get Giles's mother to stay 
 
MINNIE'S LAST NIGHT AT HOME. 233 
 
 Minnie from coming to church. I don't see how 
 I can prevent it." 
 
 "Some one must tell his mother," said Jean, 
 "but it would not do for either Angus or me to 
 act in it." 
 
 " Certainly not ; I will go now and call on Mrs. 
 Fletcher, and break the news to the poor things as 
 softly as I can." 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; that will do, I hope," said 
 Angus. 
 
 Then the brother and sister walked silently to 
 their lodge. When they reached the gate, Jean 
 said 
 
 " I have no patience with that Minnie ; she ought 
 to know better than we do what sort of fellow 
 Giles is. If she suffers, I don't much pity her." 
 
 "Don't be hard, Jean," replied Angus; "every- 
 body keeps the truth from her, poor girl. I doubt 
 there will be a terrible scene to-morrow and 
 Sunday, too ! " 
 
 But it was fated that Minnie should hear nothing 
 that night ; for, just as the Vicar was setting off to 
 see her, he was called away to the sick-bed of a 
 dying parishioner some miles inland. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE WEDDING-DAY. 
 
 )T was a beautiful May morning that 
 dawned on Minnie Fletcher, this Sun- 
 day of her wedding ; the sun shone 
 into her little bedroom window and 
 awoke her right early. She rose and 
 knelt by her bed to pray. And she prayed for Giles 
 more than for herself : she prayed that God w r ould 
 turn his heart, and make him a sober and good 
 husband. Then she prayed for herself, that she 
 might have strength to resist the evil in her husband's 
 character, that she might prove a good and faithful 
 wife, and be blessed with happiness in this life and 
 in the next. She had half risen, but bent her knee 
 once more, and prayed that Angus Forbes might 
 win a worthy woman and forget his disappointment 
 in a new love. Then, when her eyes were swim- 
 ming with generous tears at the thought of poor 
 Angus, who loved her so faithfully, being left deso- 
 late and forsaken, she sat down on her bed and 
 began to comb her hair, thinking now more of 
 Angus than of Giles. 
 
THE WEDDING-DAY. 235 
 
 "Why had people plagued her so, advising her 
 not to take Giles ? If they had only let her alone, 
 she might have chosen the other. Was it, then, 
 out of self-will that she had decided to marry 
 young Fletcher? And was the bettering of Giles 
 more an excuse for her choice than a true motive ? " 
 She felt a twinge of conscience, and tugged sharply 
 at the comb as it flew through her raven tresses. 
 
 So Minnie's thoughts on this, her wedding-day, 
 were not as sunny as the skies. 
 
 At seven o'clock in the morning a little girl 
 tapped at the back door of Giles's house. She 
 tapped once, and nobody came. She tapped a 
 second time, still no one came. She then went to 
 the neighbour's house, and said to the \voman who 
 was washing up some cups and saucers 
 
 "Will you be so good, Mrs. Somers, as to give 
 this letter to Mrs. Fletcher, when she comes in ? It's 
 from the Vicar." 
 
 "All right, lassie. She'll be at Minnie Fletcher's 
 now, I'll upho'de it, trying on the new dress." 
 
 "Thank you, mum," said the little girl, and ran 
 off, singing and tripping with dancing steps ; for the 
 promise of a marriage makes every girl's heart 
 glad, howsoever young she be. 
 
 Mrs. Somers waited awhile before she went in 
 next door, but when it drew near half-past seven, 
 she said to herself 
 
 " This here wedding is at eight o'clock, and Mrs. 
 Fletcher must be back by now, if she means going 
 to church ; for it will take her fifteen minutes, even 
 in the donkey-cart." 
 
 But when she saw the front of the house, and 
 that the shutters had not been taken down, she 
 cried out 
 
 " Mercy on us ! There's summut wrong here." 
 
 She knocked and kicked, peeped through the 
 
236 VELVETEENS. 
 
 keyhole, and listened, but no sight or sound re- 
 assured her. 
 
 " Harry," she cried to her husband a tall, burly 
 fisherman, " what's come to the Fletchers ? Here's 
 Giles Fletcher's wedding-day, and nobody up yet, 
 though all the folks is trapesing up to church to 
 see the doings." 
 
 Harry lounged round with his pipe in his mouth, 
 and rattled the back door merrily, and shouted for 
 Giles. But all within was still and voiceless, and 
 the lurcher in the stable whined and scratched at 
 the door. 
 
 " I say, missus, this J ere looks very like queer 
 street," said the fisherman, scratching his head. 
 
 " Shall I run to John Fletcher's," asked his wife, 
 " and see if she be not there all the time ? " 
 
 " Yes, I would, missus ; belike Giles and his 
 mother be i' t'other house." 
 
 Presently Mrs. Somers returned, saying, "There 
 was nobody yonder neither ; the neighbours said 
 they had started off for Beckthorp church a few 
 minutes sin'." 
 
 " I think I can get in by this back window," said 
 Somers ; and, with a little persuasion, he induced 
 the fastening to give way. It was not long before 
 his head appeared from the bedroom window. He 
 stooped down, and whispered 
 
 " She's lying on her bed, bad can't speak ; her 
 mouth is slewed round right across her cheek, 
 Mary. I'll go down and let you in through the 
 door." 
 
 Then Mrs. Somers went in, and ministered to the 
 stricken mother as best she could. 
 
 The Vicar's letter lay on the little table un- 
 opened. Poor Mrs. Fletcher could take no notice 
 of anything ; she breathed thickly, and her eyes 
 were half open, 
 
THE: WEDDING-DAY. 237 
 
 "Dear, dear! and on her son's wedding-day, 
 too!" 
 
 Then Mrs. Somers began to cry, out of sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 "Shall I fetch the doctor? Where's Giles, I 
 wonder ? " 
 
 "Yes, Harry, run and fetch the doctor. Deary 
 me ! And to think she should be taken like this 
 on her son's wedding-day ! Well, I wonder if Giles 
 knows what's come to her. Belike he never thought 
 of calling her this morning. Heigh ! but the doors 
 was all locked up. Then how did Giles get out this 
 morning ? It looks very like well, I'm clean 
 'mazed about it. Giles never slept at home, or I'm 
 a goose." 
 
 While Mrs. Somers was making her sad dis- 
 covery, and reflecting on the vicissitudes of life, 
 the preparations for the wedding had gone on 
 merrily up at Beckthorp. 
 
 The churchyard was full of little girls and grown 
 women ; the church, too, contained a good sprinkling 
 of friends of the two families, whose heads seemed 
 all put on hind afore, as they were looking back 
 over their shoulders to see the bride enter at the 
 west door. 
 
 Aunt Bessie was not there. "Ah, she be quality 
 now : she comes in late, you'll see," said one. 
 
 " Oh ! but Mr. Brown is at the lych-gate, talking 
 to the constable a-waiting for her to drive up 
 with the bride. You'll see if he bean't, Mary 
 Ann." 
 
 "And the Vicar yonder why don't he put his 
 surplice on ? and why do he look so grave ? " 
 
 "Why, they do say that he would have liked 
 Minnie to many Angus Forbes. That's his brother 
 Willie, yonder by the porch him as has the big 
 dog in a strap." 
 
238 VELVETEENS. 
 
 The Vicar shook hands with Mr. Brown, and, 
 taking him aside, said 
 
 u I have heard nothing in reply to my letter 
 to Mrs. Fletcher ; so I suppose the bride is 
 coming. Have you instructed the constable in his 
 part ? " 
 
 ..."Yes, -he.- knows what to do: when the bride- 
 groom^comes, he^will collar. him, and. march him 
 off to the station." 
 
 " What a terrible position ! How I wish I could 
 have prevented this sooner ! " 
 
 " It's not our fault ; we acted as soon as we had 
 the evidence. It is really my wife's fault for not 
 making the facts known before. But we can't 
 blame her/' 
 
 " Certainly not, Mr. Brown ; she knew of some 
 very suspicious facts ; she could hardly act upon 
 them." 
 
 A hum of voices, a running of little feet along 
 the gravelled path, betokened the arrival of one of 
 the chief performers. It was the bride, leaning 
 on the arm of John Fletcher, and smiling sweetly 
 from side to side, as friends wished her joy on this 
 happy day. 
 
 There were some large beech trees near the lych- 
 gate, and, as Minnie passed under their shade, the 
 birds sang that morning, and twittered joyously in 
 the branches, as if to add their welcome to that of 
 her human friends. That scene dwelt long in her 
 memory. 
 
 Minnie shook hands with Willie at the porch, and 
 patted the mastiff on the head, who, however, took 
 no heed of the compliment, but held his muzzle to 
 the ground, and looked up moodily, with blood- 
 shot eyes. 
 
 John and Minnie walked up the nave, John with a 
 sprig of lavender in his mouth, trying to look un- 
 
THE \VEDDING-DAY. 239 
 
 concerned, Minnie smiling graciously, and showing 
 her pretty dimpled cheek and white teeth. 
 
 When she found that Giles had not yet come, 
 she gave a little forced laugh, and sat down in one 
 of the pews. Once more all heads turned to the 
 western door to greet the bridegroom. The Vicar 
 was standing within the porch : he had not yet 
 robed for the service, but was talking softly to Mr. 
 Brown. There were many young fisher-lads sitting 
 in the church. They had come to see their chum 
 "turned off," and were already whispering amongst 
 themselves at the delay of the bridegroom. 
 
 Ten minutes, fifteen minutes passed, and yet 
 no sign of Giles or his mother. Minnie's mouth 
 began to pout, and she tossed her head with all the 
 haughtiness of a slighted beauty. She could hear 
 the children in the road making fun of Giles's un- 
 punctuality. 
 
 Twenty minutes passed. The good folk in the 
 church were beginning to move fretfully in their 
 seats : they no longer looked back at the porch ; 
 their eyes were all bent now on poor Minnie, who 
 was turning pale and red by turns, and had a tear 
 glistening in her eye ; while John Fletcher was now 
 gnawing nervously at the stalk of his lavender, and 
 making the flower shake and sway under his left 
 eye. 
 
 " Here he comes ! " the children outside cried, 
 as a pony-carriage drove up ; and immediately 
 every face but Minnie's turned round. 
 
 The folk in church heard a murmuring outside ; 
 then one of the Miss Erasers walked up the church, 
 and, leaning over Minnie's shoulder, whispered a 
 few words to her. 
 
 Minnie got up, looking scared, and followed Miss 
 Fraser into the vestry. 
 
 The people in church began to ask one another 
 
240 VELVETEENS. 
 
 questions ; then the Vicar walked up to the first step 
 leading into the chancel, and there turned and 
 faced the congregation. 
 
 " My good people, " he said, " you will be sorry 
 to hear that Mrs. Fletcher, the mother of the bride- 
 groom, has been taken ill, and that there can be 
 no wedding to-day." 
 
 After one gasp of astonishment, there arose a vast 
 clatter of boots, and in a little space the church 
 was empty. 
 
 Outside they found Harry Somers giving to the 
 crowd a graphic narrative of how he had forced 
 the window and found Mrs. Fletcher lying across 
 her bed in a fit. 
 
 But soon the question arose, " Where is Giles ? " 
 
 Harry Bent being appealed to, shook his head, 
 saying 
 
 "No, neighbours, I don't know nothing of his 
 doings ; he has given me up as a bad un, and very 
 like he's gone to make a parson of hisself." 
 
 Bent made a white tie with deft motion of his 
 hands, and the sarcasm set all the boys laughing. 
 
 Meanwhile, Miss Fraser had led Minnie from 
 the vestry into the Vicarage garden, and so into 
 her father's library. 
 
 The Vicar had some trouble in prevailing upon 
 the people to go home quietly ; they were dis- 
 appointed of a sight which some of them had come 
 a long way to see. 
 
 The village constable was oracular ; he said nothing, 
 but the way in which he shook his head and pinched 
 his lips together showed plainly enough that he 
 contained within him perilous matter which he 
 found it hard to keep concealed. 
 
 "You knows where Giles is," said one big boy 
 to him. 
 
 The constable smiled, and looked another way, 
 
THE WEDDING-DAY. 
 
 241 
 
 " Have you took him up for poaching, then ? " 
 "Get along with you, you boys! Can't you see 
 I'm on duty?' 
 
 " Yes, we can see that by your 'at, sir." 
 " Here ! clear out and make room for your 
 betters. Any need to stay on this beat, Mr. 
 Fraser, sir ? " 
 
 " No, Atkins ; you can go to your breakfast 
 now ; but I want you to take these telegrams for me 
 first. Giles Fletcher is wanted for murder ; quick ! 
 lose no time." 
 
 Thus was the churchyard left to its dead ; and 
 the cottagers who lived a mile or more away won- 
 dered why no marriage bells rang out this sunny 
 morning. But the Vicar hurried to meet Minnie 
 and John Fletcher in his library. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 MINNIE'S RESOLVE. 
 
 [HEN the Vicar entered his library he 
 found John Fletcher looking out of the 
 window, and Minnie sitting with her 
 head in her hand, silently weeping. 
 
 " Why had not Giles told her he could 
 not come ? Why had he put this affront upon her, 
 making her the laughing-stock of the village ? 
 Next time she would be late, and he should have to 
 wait and look silly before them all." Such were 
 some of her thoughts when Mr. Fraser entered the 
 room. 
 
 "John, pray sit down. I have something very 
 painful to say to you both. Minnie, my dear girl, 
 steel your heart to bear a severe blow, and meet 
 this trouble with your good common sense and trust 
 in Providence." 
 
 "Yes, sir," said John, "that's my prayer always 
 in sorrow just 'Thy will be done,' and nothing 
 more. As for Minnie, she is a brave lass, and a 
 good lass ; and if she do sob a bit now, why, it's 
 a disappointment for a young woman to get all 
 her clothes ready, and come to church, as you may 
 say, for nothing ! " 
 
MINNIE'S RESOLVE. 243 
 
 "It is indeed, John. But the cause is much 
 worse than the consequence ; it is that which 
 pains me." 
 
 "Ah, well, sir, she may recover of that stroke. 
 I've known 
 
 The Vicar waved his hand, saying, "My dear 
 friend, you don't know the cause of Giles's absence 
 this morning. He left Beckthorp yesterday, and 
 probably told his poor mother before he went that 
 a terrible charge hung over him, which made it 
 necessary for him to go at once. The poor mother 
 doubtless spent a night of poignant grief, and 
 this morning, early, she was seized with paralysis, 
 as I gather. Giles had gone long before his mother 
 fell ill." 
 
 Minnie's sobs had been stayed. A "terrible 
 charge" -the words sent a shiver through her. 
 When she could find words, she asked in a low 
 voice 
 
 " This charge, sir, do you believe it ? " 
 
 The Vicar took a seat beside her, and, holding 
 her hand, replied 
 
 " Minnie, I will tell you all. Mr. Brown has heard 
 the evidence, and he finds it very grave ; your 
 Aunt Bessie has heard it, and can't defend him ; 
 Giles himself has heard it, and, rather than meet 
 the charge, he has run away without so much as 
 giving you a hint of what he was doing." 
 
 Minnie's eyes began to flash indignantly. In a 
 firmer voice, she asked 
 
 " Please, Mr. Fraser, what was the charge ? " 
 
 " The charge against Giles was of the gravest. I 
 hardly like to name it to you to-day." 
 
 "I can bear it now," said Minnie, putting her 
 hand to her side. 
 
 " My dear child, there was ground for suspecting 
 that he had committed a murder." 
 
244 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " Oh ! " Minnie withdrew her hand sharply, and 
 John drew nearly the whole sprig of lavender into 
 his mouth. 
 
 "He was offered an opportunity of explaining 
 the suspicious facts ; but he has gone." 
 
 Minnie's head had sunk on her bosom, which 
 was heaving with a conflict of emotions. First she 
 sobbed for many minutes ; then, as the two men 
 remained silent, she lifted her head proudly, and 
 said 
 
 " Had I no friends who were willing to save me 
 from this disgrace ? Oh, why did not some one 
 warn me of his character? I thought him easily 
 tempted ; I never suspected him of any wickedness. 
 Some one should have warned me. It was cruel to 
 let me come here." 
 
 Again she wept and sobbed, and the two men 
 looked on helplessly, and said nothing. 
 
 When the poor girl grew a little calmer, the 
 Vicar began 
 
 " We could not warn you earlier, Minnie, because 
 we did not know ourselves twenty-four hours ago. 
 I wrote last night to Giles's mother, asking her to 
 go to you and break the terrible news. That letter 
 the poor woman either never received, or else was 
 too ill to act upon. That letter might have spared 
 you the pain of this morning's ordeal." 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; you have always been been 
 very kind." 
 
 Minnie again broke down, and John took the 
 opportunity of going to the bow window, and asking 
 quietly 
 
 " You'll excuse me, sir, but who be the the 
 man he did away with ? " 
 
 " Mr. Forbes, the head keeper, was the man." 
 
 "Nay, never!" 
 
 " The murder was committed, if it was a murder^ 
 
MINNIE'S RESOLVE. 245 
 
 with Giles's gun ; there were other suspicious facts 
 which Giles could not explain." 
 
 " Dear me ! Dear me ! " groaned the fisher- 
 man. 
 
 "And now, Minnie," said the Vicar, "it is quite 
 impossible for you to go home yet. You shall go 
 to my daughter's work-room upstairs, and we will 
 send you some hot coffee. Yes,* I insist upon it, 
 my dear child. You have no father or mother, 
 and I am your spiritual father in this parish. You 
 are my child, and must obey me." 
 
 "Yes, Minnie," said John ; "it's the best thing to 
 take something warm when you've had a knock- 
 down blow. It's very kind of the Vicar, to be sure ! 
 and, maybe, we're taking up too much of his time 
 on Sunday morning, Minnie." 
 
 "Indeed, I am very thankful," sobbed Minnie. 
 " I only want a quiet place where I may hide my 
 face a while." 
 
 "Dora!" shouted the Vicar, "take Minnie up 
 to your room, and make her as comfortable as you 
 can." 
 
 Dora, a bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked girl, came and 
 took Minnie by the hand, as if she were leading a 
 little child. 
 
 "Poor thing!" said the Vicar to John Fletcher, 
 " she must stay here a day or two, if you will let 
 her, till she has learnt to bear the shame and the 
 sorrow." 
 
 "Thank you, sir, very heartily. She be a good 
 wench ; she will come round to the wind in time, sir. 
 Thank you kindly, sir. I will go fetch her some 
 things." - 
 
 So Minnie ate her wedding-breakfast all by 
 herself, amid sobs and sighs and prayers and bitter 
 tears. 
 
 In the evening, when the day's work was over, 
 
246 VELVETEENS. 
 
 the Vicar found Minnie pacing up and down the 
 room. 
 
 " Oh ! I am so glad you have come at last, sir ; 
 for I have made up my mind to go back and nurse 
 Mrs. Fletcher." 
 
 " Can you do it, my dear ? " 
 
 " I think so," Minnie replied, looking up into his 
 face with a smile. "1 have sat here and cried 
 nearly all day, till my eyes are quite red ; that 
 is enough to give to self, isn't it ? Now I have 
 been praying while you were at church. I could 
 hear all the hymns quite plain by this open 
 window, and they sounded like heaven. So, now 
 it comes to me that my duty is to look after 
 Giles's mother." 
 
 The Vicar looked softly upon her, and said 
 
 " You have chosen wisely, Minnie. I will walk 
 down with you to Nether Beckthorp ; and perhaps 
 you will call on Aunt Bessie, and tell her you are 
 not angry with her for stopping your marriage/ 1 
 
 " I will call and see her ; but but I think she 
 might have told me about Giles, if she knew these 
 dreadful things." 
 
 " I fancy she did try to dissuade you, until you 
 almost quarrelled with her, Minnie. You were rather 
 headstrong, I fear." 
 
 " I have had a lesson a bitter lesson," said the 
 girl, tremulously. 
 
 "And Mrs. Brown has had such a revolution in 
 thought and conduct just lately, that we must make 
 some allowance. Neither is her mind quite free 
 from the old malady, as her husband tells me ; 
 though it assumes another form. For she insists 
 on believing that they are going to be ruined." 
 
 " I'm sorry for that ; because what Aunt Bessie 
 believes, in her madness, turns out to be true." 
 
 "Ah, that is an Oriental notion that the mad 
 
MINNIE'S RESOLVE. 247 
 
 are inspired ; but it stands on very doubtful 
 evidence." 
 
 So Minnie astonished all the neighbours by going 
 to nurse Mrs. Fletcher. Her patient recovered 
 sufficiently to move about feebly, and Minnie still 
 stayed to help, at her earnest request. 
 
 " Perhaps my poor boy may come back," the poor 
 widow would say, as she set a light in her bedroom 
 window. 
 
 Then would Minnie's eye flash with a strange 
 light, and she repressed the words that struggled 
 to leap forth. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Brown had made all preparations 
 for their departure, which was to take place on the 
 morrow. Minnie had put Mrs. Fletcher to bed, and 
 was sitting in the keeping-room, listening vaguely 
 to the hissing of the kettle and the roaring of the 
 sea. 
 
 " May we come in ? " 
 
 It was Jean Forbes, followed by her brother. 
 They had walked down to say " Good-bye " to 
 her. 
 
 Jean talked much of the land to which they were 
 going, and tried to make Minnie promise that some 
 day she would come across the water and live with 
 Aunt Bessie. 
 
 Angus sat still and gazed upon Minnie till she 
 blushed. 
 
 When Jean had taken leave, Angus lingered a 
 moment to say 
 
 " Good-bye, Minnie ; and if you get a good 
 husband, as I doubt not you will, I wish you 
 happiness." 
 
 " I shall never never marry now," said the girl, 
 rather sadly. 
 
 " Oh yes, you will," said Angus, blundering in his 
 confused way ; " I hope you will, Minnie, I'm sure." 
 
248 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " Do you want me to marry ? " she asked, lifting 
 her dark eyes and piercing him to the very 
 soul. 
 
 " Til tell you what/' he stammered out, " if you'll 
 fet me know when your ship is coming, I'll drive 
 over to meet it ; if it is across Australia, I will. 
 You're a good girl, Minnie, to stay here and help 
 Mrs. Fletcher. I wanted to say that, because we 
 may never meet again, you know." 
 
 She held out her hand for the last time. He 
 pressed it, murmured "God bless you!" and 
 hastened after his sister. 
 
 "Well," said Jean, "is Minnie coming with us, 
 after all?" 
 
 "I wouldn't dream of asking her, Jean. It is her 
 duty to stay here, and she sees it. I would be the 
 last person to take advantage of her distress, and 
 ask her to marry me." 
 
 "She's so pretty," said Jean, coolly, "that she's 
 sure to get married ; if you'd left it to me, I would 
 have managed better." 
 
 "It's very well, Jean, as it is. I don't want her 
 heart while it is full of pity for Giles. We're better 
 separated, Jean. Perhaps I may pick up some 
 nice girl out yonder." 
 
 Angus did not tell his sister of the offer he had 
 just made to drive Minnie from the boat ; why 
 should he ? 
 
 And so the Browns went to Australia, taking with 
 them Angus and Jean Forbes, and two stalwart 
 labourers who were bent on improving themselves ; 
 and life at Beckthorp went on much as usual. 
 Minnie recovered her spirits, but would not en- 
 courage the boys in their attentions to her. 
 
 The neighbours said she was waiting for Giles 
 to return. 
 
 In the autumn Mrs. Fletcher died, and Minnie 
 
MINNIE'S RESOLVE. 249 
 
 wrote to Aunt Bessie from John's house, saying that 
 she would like to join her in Australia, if Mr. Forbes 
 would be kind enough to drive over and meet the 
 boat. 
 
 Aunt Bessie was lying under the verandah when 
 this letter came, and she pushed it across to Angus, 
 saying 
 
 " What an absurd girl she is ! She speaks of 
 driving two hundred miles as if it \vas a morn- 
 ing's jaunt ! Drive over and meet her ! Ah, you 
 may well laugh, Angus." 
 
 Angus was beaming all over with happy smiles. 
 
 " I believe Angus means to go," said Mr. Brown, 
 puffing away at a long pipe after a hard day's 
 work. 
 
 " I do," said Angus. 
 
 " Good gracious ! the man's mad ! " cried Aunt 
 Bessie. Then after a moment's pause, she added, 
 " I see, of course, you mean to marry her before 
 you return here." 
 
 " I do," said Angus. 
 
 "Well, I think it was rather bold of her to 
 suggest such a thing," said Aunt Bessie. 
 
 " She didn't suggest it. I did." 
 
 " You did ? Then you've been writing to her ? " 
 
 Angus chuckled to himself, and just then the 
 young man from the next station called to see 
 Jean "on business." 
 
 "Well! I never did! I really never did!" cried 
 Aunt Bessie. 
 
 " Oh yes, you did once, Bess," said her husband ; 
 " it's the way of the world, and a better way than 
 this look ! " He showed her a letter he had just 
 received from England. "Giles Fletcher has 
 escaped hanging. He was washed overboard off 
 Boston deeps, and his body has not yet been 
 found." 
 
250 VELVETEENS. 
 
 " Poor young man ! " cried Aunt Bessie. " Ah ! 
 don't you remember, Angus ? You might have had 
 him hanged by the neck by just saying a dozen 
 words ; but you said, ' No, Giles, I leave you to the 
 Great Judge of all the earth/ " 
 
 The rest were silent for a space. It seemed to 
 them a more awful end than the gallows inside the 
 gaol at Norwich would have been, and the clamorous 
 crowd without. 
 
 Aunt Bessie wiped a tear away as she said, " I 
 can't help crying once that lad was the loveliest 
 and sweetest of darlings God shield us all ! " 
 
 "Amen!" was the deep-toned reply of Angus 
 Forbes. 
 
 THE END, 
 
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 LONDON AND BECCLES. 
 
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