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I Prince and Pauper. By C. C, FRASER-TYTLER. Mistress Judith. By SARAH TYTLER. WhatSheCameThroughl St. Mungos City, Beauty and the Beast, Lady Bell, Noblesse Oblige Disappeared. CItoyenne Jacqueline Buri d Diamonds, The Bride's Pass. I The Blackball Ghosts. By J. S, WINTER. Cavalry LU«, j Recrimental Legend;. By H. F WOOD The Passenger from Scotland Yard, The Englishman of the Rue Cain. By EDMUND YATES The Forlorn Hope. | Land at t-ast. Castaway, London: CHATTO & WINDUS, 214, Piccadilly, W, FALLEN FORTUNES FALLEN FORTUNES ^ 0^O\>t\ By JAMES PAYN AUTHOR OF ROXY," "Walter's word," "the best of husbands," "halves, "UNDER ONE ROOF," " WHAT HE COST HER," ETC. 4 NEW EDITION V, ants an: CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY i8gi I. II. in. IV. V. VI. VIL VIII. IX. X. XL XIL XIIL XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXL XXIL XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. XXVIL CONTENTS. A" /^ After the Charades , » . . ^ ;? . 1 Teacher and Pupil 11 In the Rose-garden .....?. 24 Mrs. Campden orders the Pony-carriage . . 31 Mk. Campden orders the Barouche .... 35 The Guide Race 38 Making the best of it 49 Job's Comforter 59 Wormwood 66 A True Wife ........ 76 Mr. Holt's Advice . . . . . . . .83 Sympathetic Ink 91 Jenny's Suspicions 99 How Dr. Curzon's little Account avas Settled . 106 On Board " The Mary " 122 To BE or Not to be ? 134 The Anonymous Letter 143 Resuscitated ...,.,., 150 Dalton goes his own Way .,..,. 157 The Power of " Old Times " . . . , . 165 Mrs. Campden's Vieav OF THE JlAiLi;!; .... 173 A Patroness 181 Advice Gratis 196 Second Class ..»',... . 204 The Worm Turns .. ,,,,,. 209 Last Days . . ....... 223 Farea^lls 229 'J 588 viii Contents. CSAP. XXVI II, Mr. Holt asks Maiu*a XXIX. Mr. Holt departs wrni JfLriNG Colour XXX. Kealities .... XXXI, Lady Skipton's Charity , XXXII. Evil Tidings XXXIII, A Catastrophe . , XXXIV. Toxy's Expedition; XXXV, Bereaved . . „ XXXVI. Jenny at Bay . ,,• XXXVII. A Lover Dismissed . XXXVIII, Kitty's Dream . XXXIX, An Author and his Eiimo:^ XL. The Exodus XLI. The Swing of the Penduli .\r XLII. How the Premium was Paid XLIII. In the Coffee-house XLIV. Eetrospective . . . XLV, In Brazil XLVI. Mine and CouNTKEMr>;E . XLVII, Breaking it XLVIIL Does Kitty KMW? . ... XLIX. Mr, Holt makes Jeff his Confidant L. How Mr. Holt hastened Matters LI. How TiiEY Lived fater Afterwards 251 253 2G7 28() 294 301 310 319 3:i9 333 344 354 362 3G7 369 374 380 SS4 333 FALLEN FORTUNES. CHAPTER I. AFTER THE CHARADE?!. It is iiiglit, and tlic moon is rising over crag- and coppice in its fulness, making all things, as is comraouly said, " as liglit as day." Its silent, silvery splendours do not, however, vie wit]i the golden glories of noonday, l)ut have a radiance of their own, infinitely more enchanting as it gleams on wood and wave. Never does Nathay look so charming as when its smooth, swift stream mirrors the moonbeams, or steals coyly from them in eddy and pool beneath its bush-fringed banks. Never do tho tall crags of Bleabarrow stand so grandly out as beneath this harvest moon. How distinctly does every giant boulder assert itself, every heather-clad knoll, and every mountain ash that leans aslanc out of its rocky cleft, like a flag at a ship's stern in calm ! To ono who observes her closely, Nature has at this time a listening air ; the giant boulders, in their statuesque magnificence, seem to be awaiting something, the utterance, it may be, of some magic charm that shall confer a wondrous trans- formation ; the ash is leaning and listening; even the tufts of heather stand sti'^V up, as though in expectation. If he be alone in such a scene, Man himself mechanically listens also; and to some a voice is vouchsafed — uncertain, vague, yet pregnant, so it seems, with eternal mysteries ; and by others there is no sound heard, save the whisper of the wind among the trees, or the mui-mur of the stream as it hurries to the fall. " Listen, Kitty, listen ! Is it not pleasant to hear the Nathay tumbling over the weir in a night like this ? " The speaker is a plump, fair girl in a housemaid's dress, who is standing at an open window of a mansion commanding a view of the weir, and she addresses one of her own age and sex who is leaning over the window-sill beside her. To judge from the attire of the latter, which is a neat and cheap one, such aa is bought for solid merit, as respects its washing qualities, Father than for pattern and texture, and by the little apology B 3 FALLEN FORTUNES. vor a cap, made out of imitation lace, that crowns her rlc!i brown liair, you would conclude her to be of the same station as her companion ; but Kate has an air of refinement that the other lacks. They are both, however, what even bachelors, who have arrived at the critical age, would term pretty girls ; and if Mary (for that is the speaker's name) is inclined to be stout, that is no defect, so far as my poor judgment goes, in a pretty housemaid, but generally bespeaks content and good-nature. She is evidently one of those who do not " work their fingers to the bone " in the performance of her household duties, for her hands are smooth and delicate, while it is equally plain that her occupation lies within doors, for her complexion is as soft as cream, and almost as white. Her neck, too, though marred by the presence on either side of it of a large blob of mosaic gold in the shape of an earring, is free from roughness or sunburn ; and its delicacy contrasts prettily enough Avith the gay cotton handkerchief pinned above her bosom, in that old-world modest fashion which is rarely seen in these days, even when modestv is affected, as iijDon the stage. Upon the whole, we would say that Mary is a superior young person in her rank of life, and that her mistress is an easy one, and leaves her plenty of leisure to adorn and preserve her charms ; and woe be to the susceptible head gamekeeper (one would go on to prophesy) who, in his watchful rounds to-night, should behold that pleasant vision as she gazes out oa Nathay's stream and crags. Kate, like Mary, is a hlonde ; but the resemblance between the girls goes no further. She is a year or two younger than her companion — indeed, unusually young for one in domestic service — and has an air of delicacy so pronounced, that it only just falls short of the appearance of ill-health. Her cheek-bones might be termed too high, and her frame too angular, if it were not that Nature has not yet done with her. Her beauty is at present in the budding stage, though it gives promise of great perfection ; and her eyes are too soft and spiritual, one would say, for the task of looking for cobwebs or dusting china. If she is to be up betimes to-morrow, and go about her work as usual, it strikes one that they ought long ago to have been closed in sleep, instead of looking on rock and river with such a thoughtful and impassioned gaze. "You hear the weir, don't yon, Kitty," continued Mary, "though it seems you don't hear 7)ie .'"' " A thousand pardons, Polly. Oh, yes, I hear it well enough, ftnd I heard your question tco ; but, somei:ow, on anight like AFTER THE CHARADES. 3 this, one likes to think, and not to talk. It was very selfiNh of me not to answer you ; but I was wondering how long yon river had run on like this, how many generations of men and women had listened tx) it, and how many more will do so, when you and I shall have no ears for its ceaseless song." " N"o ears, dear Kitty ? what a funny notion ! Oh, I see ; you mean Avhen we shall both be dead." " Yes ; dead and gone, Maiy. The moon will shine as calmly as it does now, yondei*, glistening on those crags we know so Avell ; the sky will be just as blue and beautiful ; the ti-ees will bo even grander and larger ; but we shall never see tbem more." " Well, of course not ; we shall be enjoying something better in heaven — at least, I hope so." " Do you really hope so, Polly ?" asked the other, earnestly ; *' or is it only that you hope you are not going to the bad place ? I cannot help thinking that we often pretend '.ve want to go to heaven, when we have in reality no expectation of the sort." " Oh, Kitty, how can you be so wicked ?" " But is it not wicked to pi-etend such things ? It seems to me to be attempting to deceive not only ourselves, but Him who imade us. Now, on a night like this, and looking on so fair a scene, I almost feel as if I ivas in heaven ; as though, at all jevents, I was not of the earth — earthy — but was projected somehow — I don't know how — into some diviner sphere. Thero seem influences about us such as are not perceived at other times, if they then exist ; a sort of communion appears to bo established between our souls and Nature herself — — " " You are ' projecting' me, dear Kitty," interrupted the other, laughing, " very much beyond my depth : for my part, I am quite content to leave speculation alone, or, where there seems a hitch, to trust to the clergyman." " That is because you are conscious of being so comfortably located, that the very idea of change, even in one's ideas, annoy .^ you. From your cradle to your grave, you will, in all human probability, be out of the reach of adversity; and therefore this woi'ld seems sufficient for all your wants, if not 'the best of all possible worlds.' " " For that matter, you will be just as well off as I, Kitty." " So far as material wants are concerned, I suppose I sliall ; but I cannot shut ra.j eyes to the position of those who are less favoured by fortune. I often wonder if one were poor, and looked down upon (as poor people are, whatever we may f-ay), and conscious of injustice and contempt, whether one's views of 4 FALLEN FORTUNES. ibe future vrould not be altered as mucli as one's views of the present. It seems to me that it is much easier for the rich to be what is called orthodox — to pronounce whatever is to be right, and to take matters as they find them mapped out for them, both here and hereafter — than for the poor." " Yet I am sure some of our poor people here — I meat: •^f those that belong to the estate " " A very diffei'ent thing from the estate belonglug to i]icu\., Polly," interrupted her companion, drily. " Of course it is. Providence has placed them va a sub- ordinate positio.n ; but yet they ai'e often better people — I have lieard the rector say so — and more religious-minded, than their )nasters. They are ill-lodged and ill-fed, rheumatic, and Heaven knows what else ; but yet they never complain, nor seem to think it hard, though they see others so much better off." " Still, I confess I should feel it bitterly, Polly, if I were in their place," answered the other, earnestly. " I am afraid I fihould be a radical and an infidel, and all that is bad." " Well, then, I am very glad that you are not likely to be exposed to the temptation, cousin,'' was the laughing reply. " If your papa gets into Parliament, he is quite clever enough to become a Minister-, and then you will be a great lady ; when you will soon get rid of all these socialistic sort of ideas, and begin to patronise us all." " Patronise ! " exclaimed Kate ; " that is another thing that seems to me to embitter the position of the poor almost beyond endurance. There are people in our class even who seem to imagine that they have bought their fellow-creatures out and out — body and soul — with a few yards of flannel, or, very literally, a few 'messes of pottage.' Even if they had settled a comfortable annuity upon their unhappy victims, they could not have the right to treat them as they do ; but to have bought them so cheap, and then to give themselves such airs of pro- prietorship, is to my mind a very offensive spectacle." " My dear Kitty," cried the other, laughing, " if you are not of a more ' umble ' spirit, and do not feel more grateful for your perquisites than your language seems to promise, you will never get an * upper ' situation. Even as it is, you know, it w n noticed by Mr. Holt in the charade to-night that you looked •above your place." " I daresay I should be very unfitted for it," was the grave rejoinder, " as well as for anything else that was really useful. I oft^n wonder — " AFTER THE CHARADES. 5 " What is the good of it ? You are always wondering, Kittv," broke in the other girl. " i can't help it; and I have heard it said that wonder is a stepping-stone to understanding. I say I often wonder, if papa and mamma were to be ruined, what use I could possibly be tc them. HoAV could I get my own bread, even, except by the very occupation we have been playing at to-night — that of domestic service ? As to going out as a governess, for example, what qualifications do I possess for such a post ? " " Oh, that is no obstacle, my dear Kitty, for I have had half- a-dozen governesses, and not one of them knew what she pro- posed to teach." " Well, I told YOU I thought it wicked to * pretend,' and so I do ; so that the profession of teaching would be out of the ques- tion, so far as I am concerned. What on earth, then, should I do if I was penniless ? " " I will tell you. You would send an r npaid letter to Miss ]\[ai'y Campden, Riverside, Bleabarrow, Derbyshire, telling her Jiow matters stood; and as soon as steam and wheels could take her, she Avould be Avith you ; and this would be her answer : — ■'Come to Riverside, Kitty, and for the rest of your life make it ;;Our home. We have always been sisters at heart, though only cousins by birth ; let me now prove how much I love you.' " As Polly said these words, her pretty face was lit up with tlie brightest of smiles, and her A'oice had quite a touch of generous welcome. " My dearest Polly, how good you are ! " said Kitty. " And you would come to me, would you not, and make this your home for life ? '' " Well, you sec, there would be papa and maniuui, and poor Jenny and Tony. I could never leave them, and live in luxury, while they were poor." "But we should never let them be poor, of course ; I mean my papa and mamma would not permit it. Even if you wero not, all of you, the dearest friends we have in the world, blood is thicker than water, and has indisputable claims." " Then how is it that neither your people nor mine ever take any notice of Uncle Philip ? " " Oh, Kitty, you must not speak of him ; indeed you musu not. He is not your uncle at all, you know, legall}^ He is i, person whose name should never be mentioned ; at least by young girls like you and me. W^e ought not even to be aware of his existence." 6 PALLlL^ FORTUNES. " But siuce \N*c are aware ? " " Well, then, we should ignore it. It is yonr duty, even tnorft than mine ; for if the law had decided otherwise than it did, your papa would have been disinherited, and this man Aster would have succeeded to your grandfather's property." " But this man Astor, as you call him, is my uncle, neverthe- less," persisted Kitty ; " and it was not his fault that his mother ■was not my grandmother." " What a funny child you are ! Of course it was not ; but a great many people in the Avorld are victims to misfortune. It IS the will of Providence. Why, it's in the Bible itself, Kitty, that the sins of the fathers shall be visited on their children." " I know it is ; but it scorns very hard, for all that." " But that is very wicked, Kitty." " What ! to pity Uncle Philip ? Then I hope I shall be always Avicked." Hci-c there was a little pause. Mary knew by experience that it was idle to argue Avith her cousin upon general principles, and at once descended to particulars. " I have heard that Mr. Astor is a bad man ; dissipated and untrustworthy ; a sort of person quite certain to go to the dogs." ''Who told you that?" *' One -who knows him better than anybody, because he has more to do with him ; one, too, who is a great friend of your father's, and a warm admirer of yourself, so that you should receive his opinion Avith respect on all accounts." " I would not believe everything Mr. Holt says, if you mean him," observed Kitty, quietly; " and even if he be right in this case, Uncle Philip is still to be pitied. I saw him once by acci- dent when I was quite a child ; so like in face, and even in voice and manner, to his brother, dear papa, and yet so different in their positions in life." " They are different every way, Kitty, if you only knew thera better," answered Mary, gravely. " Mr. Astor is a mauvais siijcf, a vaurien. Mr. Holt tells me he is about to leave England for good and all, to try his fortune in the New World ; and from Avhat he said, I am confident that that will be a happy thing for all parties." " That '-,3 Avhat people always say when they have contrived to shake some responsibility off their shoulders," said Kitty. " Nay, Mr. Philip Astor is certainly no responsibility of ours, at all events," observed Mary, quickly. '^ APTER The charades. ^ " 1 was not thinking of Uncle Philip just tlien, Polly." " Ah, you were thinking of Geoffrey. Well, of course I regret that mamma should liare expressed herself in those terms to-night about him ; but it cannot be expected that the lad should live at Riverside all his life ; and since he has a fancy for the sea, -why should he not indulge it ? " " But he has no such fancy ; it is only that he feels himself a burden — or rather, ho is made to feel it — ■ — " "I don't see that, Kitty; indeed, I don't," interrupted thr other, sharply. " Then you must be stone-blind." " Oh, no ; it is merely that I look at him with ordinary eyes, and don't make a fool of the boy by pretending to be in love with him." " No ; you conceal your afi^ection for him very well, it must be confessed." " I wish I could return the compliment, Kate. You makd yourself quite conspicnous by your attentions to that young lad. It is a very mistaken kindness in you — to say the least of it. If you mean nothing by it, it is an act of cruelty to him 5 and if you do mean anything, Geoffrey Derwent has scarcely a shilling he can call his own, and is not the sort of character to make a fortune, so that he will never be in a position to marry." " I think this discussion is uncalled for, cousin," answered Kitty, drawing up her slight figure to its full height. " You provoked it yourself, Kate, by reflecting ujion mamma's conduct to Geoffrey ; and while we are upon the subject, I would recommend that when your father comes to-morrow, you should be a little more discreet in your behaviour, for he has quicker eyes than your mamma, who has not such a know- ledge of the world " " My mamma knows all that she needs to know, though she knows nothing bad," interrupted Kate, in indignant tones ; " she is not only the best, but the wisest of God's creatures in all that He deems to be -wisdom ; and I would rather have her good opinion than that of all the world beside." " My dear Kitty, I never uttered one word against her, nor have ever dreamed of doing so, so you need not be so fiery in your championship ; whereas you did reflect upon the conduct of my mother as respected Geoffrey ; she is not so fond of him as you are, but she has done her duty by him — and more than her duty — for the last ten years." 8 FALLEN PCRTUNES. "Till ct last she is getting a little tired of it," observed Kate, coldly. *' You have no right to say that, cousin ; Geoffrey has been brought up like one or the family — just as though he had been my own brother ; and yet he has no natural claim u])on us " " For sLamc, Mary ! " interrupted the other, indignantly. ' How can you talk like that ? D'- you suppose I don't know Iiow it a,ll came about ? How old Mr. Derwent Avas youj father's dearest friend, and put him on the road to fortune, though he lost all himself. No natural claim ? Is gratitude, then, contrary to nature ? " " What ! do you call my father ungratcf li1, you who know that Geoffrey has been educated entirely at his expense '^ " "Heaven forbid! He is the most kind and generous of men ; but I honestly tell you that I think he has done no more than his duty in paying for Geoffrey's schooling. Why, I have heard him say myself — and I honour him for it — that he owes all he has in the world to old Mr. Derwent ; and what is Geoffrey's schooling out of your papa's ten thousand a-year ? Why, not so much as he pays to his second gardener ! I think it unworthy of you, Mary, to adduce such a thing as evidence that the poor boy has nothing to complain of, in the teeth of the scene we witnessed to-day; I do, indeed." " I think that mamma was a little hard upon Geoffrey, Kate,'' answered Mary, slowly ; " but not so hard as to evoke such indignation on your part. Of course if, at seventeen, the young gentleman is your accepted lover, you have every right to be in a passion ; but otherwise, you had better have been silent — at least to my mother's daughter." " I am not in a passion even nov:, Mai*y ; though what you have just said was designed to put mo into one. It I know myself, I should have been just as angry to have seen any utlicr person in a dependent position so contemptuously treated as GeolTrey Avas ; but if I have said anything disrespectful of your mamma to you — though I am not aware of it — I am veiy sorry for it. It \v m altogether wrong of me, and Avould have been so had 1 so spoken other to anybody — far more to you. Mrs. Campden has been always most kind to me, I'm sure ; and a kinder hostess to us all it is impossible to picture." " Of course she is, because she loves you all ; not that she does not love Jeff too ; only she has such a notion of discipline, and of boys making their own way in the world. I think the only exception is your Tony, whom she certainly c^oes spoil ; but AFTER THE CHARADES. 9 hobotly Caa help spoiliiic^ Tony. How you Avill rniss liim, wLcn lie goes to Eton in October ! " " Yos, indeed ; and how dear mamma will miss him, aud above all, poor Jenny ! Something to love and cling to, and pet, seems absolutely necessary to her existence. She is her- self so dependent on others, that t^^ have some one about her dependent upon lier, is an especial delight. Papa says sho has taught Tony far better than his masters have done, and that he has got into the upper school at his entrance examination — he is but nine, you know — has been more owing to her tban to them." " What a clever family you all are, Kate ! " observed I\Iary, admiringly ; " I am quite surprised that everybody is not afraid of you, instead of you being such favourites. I suppose it comes from your having such a clever papa. I sometimes think that if I could wish my papa to change in anything — which I don't — I should like him to talk, and laugh, and make everybody admire him, as yours does. Is he always in as high spirits at home as he is everywhere else ? I need not ask if he is as good-humoured. I cannot imagine Mr. Dalton put out by anything." "Well, I don't say papa is never put out," said Kate, lauo;h- ing for the first time, as though the topic of talk had begotten merriment ; " but he is so soon all right again, that we rarely notice that there has been any interval of gloom. We have not seen so much of him at home of late, as usual, and we miss him sadly. I am sure, so far as mamma and we are concerned, we would much rather that he was not made a Member of Parlia- ment, for that will take him more away from us than ever." " Oh, but then think of the position, Kate, and tlie great tliiugs to which, in his case, it may lead." "I am afraid I am not ambitious, Polly," sighed Kale; " and from what I have seen of ambition in papa's case — that is, since he began to sit on ' Boards' — which, however profitable, must be very uncomfortable — and to take the chair at this meeting and that, and to busy himself in public affairs, I think it would have been better for him to have remained as he was." " But the law was not to his taste, Kate ; and though it is true he had a competency of his own, it seemed like hiding his candle under a bushel to remain a briefless barrister all his days. If I were you, I should be so proud of him." " You cannot be more proud of him than I am, Polly, or so pro ud as dear mamma is ; but for the reasons I have men lo FALLEN FORTUNES. tioiied, I regret, and so does slie, I know, though sTco tvould never confess it, that he is standing for Bampton. Since hf* wishes it, we prefer, of course, that he will succeed ; but so far as we are selfishly concerned, if he fails to do so it will be no disappointment. " " Oh, but he will not fail ; he is far too clever, and he hog laid his plans too wisely for that ; and though it will cost him a good deal of money, it is most important to his interests — so Mr. Holt assures me — to secure a seat." " Mr. Holt seems to have told you a good deal ; I wish he would mind his own business. It is he who persuades papa to * go into ' this and that, as he calls it, and tells him of ' good things,' which I fancy don't always tura out as good as they look. Mamma dislikes the man, I know, and distrusts him." " But, then, dear Mrs. Dalton is not a woman of business." " I don't know about business, Mary ; mamma is the best manager of a household I ever knew, which is woman's business, I suppose ; and as to people, though she does not talk much, and never says an uncharitable word, her instincts are always right ; and in this case my own agree with them. I don't admire this Mr. Holt at all, and am very sorry your good father asked him down to Riverside, at least while we were stopping with you. I am not proiid myself, you know, and care very little what occupation people follow, so long as they themselves are nice ; but I am surprised that Mr. Campdeu should have so ' cottoned,' as Jeff calls it, to a man like that, who is also, I believe, a stockbroker." Not a word was spoken for some moments; nothing was heard but the murmur of the weir, and the melancholy tuwhit- tuwhoo of the owls, as they called to one another aci'oss the unseen mere above, from Avhicli it flowed ; then once more Mary broke silence with: "What is a stockbroker, Kitty, dear?" If she had asked, What is a stock-dove ? the inquiry would have been pertinent enough to such a scene ; but as it was, the question was so ridiculously inappropriate, that Kitty broke into a silvery laugh that woke the echoes ; it also awoke some one else, for a window was thrown up, immediately beneath that which the two friends occupied, and a thin but decisive voice cried : " Mary, your father says that there must be no more charades if tlaey lead to all this discussion afterwards between you girls ; I must insist upon your going to bed." " Indeed, Mrs. Carapden, I am afraid it was ray fault, not Mary'6," answered Kate, penitently, from above. Teacher and pupil. tt .. " No, tiO • 1 know it is not you, Kitty. Maiy would sit up ill night, and perhaps be no worse for it ; but you are much too delicate for such imprudences " " I'll have both those young hussies discharged in the morn- ing," broke in the bass notes of the exasperated Mr. Campden ; " their tittle-tattle robs me of nay beauty sleep," " Y/hat a nice dear old thing your papa is !" laughed Kate, as she and Mary softly closed their window, and prepared to divest themselves of their borrowed plumes. "If I was a housemaid, and he in the same service, I should certainly set my cap at him." CHAPTER II. TEACHER AND TUrlL. ThKUE are, no doubt, attractions of a sentimental kind that cliug to tine old couotry houses, with which no other habitations can compete. " I like your England only pretty well," observed an American lady to me on one occasion ; " but I do love her ruins." Historical association was what her own land did not possess, and she valued it accordingly ; and, indeed, it has charms ior most of us. It is something to dwell under the same roof which has sheltered Queen Elizabeth in her progress, or Charles II. in his wanderings ; and perhaps even to sleep in the same bed that was once occupied by the Royal Martyr. But there are objections to these stately ancestral homes, Avhich make them more pleasant to "go over" as a tourist, with a half-crown in your hand, destined for the housekeeper, than to reside in as a guest. The rooms ai'e stuSy, and the ventilation most observ- able in draughts under the doors ; the windows are small, and do not conveniently open ; there is generally a reputed ghost or two — which, however much we laugh at in broad daylight, is apt to appeal more strongly to the imagination when we are lying awake, during the small hours, in an antiqttated fonr- postcr. Lastly, the " Castle," or " Hall," or " Tower," or whatever imposing name it may bear, though genei'ally what the auctioneers term "finely situate," is by no means always placed in the most picturesque spot of those which its extensive lands afford for building purposes. In the good old times, when everybody was for interfering with his neighbour, or for avoiding beii g interfered with, the architect of the period was lUDre intent upon preserving the personal safety of his employer, and making him inaccessible to the general public, than in ta FALLEN FORTi'AES. providing liim with an attractive out-look ; and v,-e often sigb, as we contemplate some stately home, moat-iinged, as though wedded to old Time himself, "Oh, why was it not built there, or here ? " It is for these reasons that I prefer to be a guest — for in my wildest dreams I have never pictured myself as the proprietor thereof — at some modern mansion, though owned perchance by a City millionaire of yesterday, than to be enter- tained iu v/iiat I have heard a certain gilt but irrevere^J; youth — himself the lord of such a feudal residence — term a " ghost box." I can fancy few pleasures more solid and satisfactory than that of going about this fair land, with a hundred thousand pounds in one's pocket or so, looking out for an estate with an eligible site to build a house npon after one's own fancy — or, perhaps still better, to purchase one ready built. George Campden — a fortunate man in many things — had been lucky enough to find in Riverside a ready-made residence that suited his taste exactly, save in some particulars which his riches easily enabled him to make conformable to it. It had been built but a few years by one who had risen on the flood of Fortune only to be dragged down with its ebb ; and yet it had no objectionablb trace of newness. How could it do so, indeed, when the flinty bowels of old Bleabarrow had supplied its walls, up which the creepers had been as prompt to climb as heath and wild-flower were to deck the crags themselves ? There was an afiinity between stone and plant at Riverside Hall Avhich I have seen nowhere else, and which made the whole edifice less like a production of art than nature. Yet art — and that of the most modern kind — was everywhere visible about it, from the divan-like billiard-i'oom, with its electric maridng-board, to the gilt gas-lamps fringing the garden p,ath that led to where the steam-yacht was housed -a boat- house like a Chinese palace. The lamps were by no means superfluous, though the steam-yacht might certainly have been termed so, since it was only after much rain that the Nathay would admit of its reaching Bleabarrow Mere, under pretence of navigating the Avaters of which that ambitious vessel had been purchased ; but the sailing-yacht, which the Chinese palace also contained, in addition to half-a-dozen pleasure-skiffs, w^as often put in requisition ; and, after a late picnic, or protracted voyage, the miniature lighthouse at the head of the boat-landing was nseful enough, and the lamps beside the winding pathway saved many a bed of costly flov/ers from invasion and damage. The house was built upon elevated f|;round, that gradually TEACHER AND PUPIL. I3 sloped up to ifc from the river ; but at its back, and slieltorlnor it from the north and east, a hill arose, so hic^-h tliat it could almost be termed a mountain, and yet so fertile tliat great trees grew almost to its sumnait, beneath which tbe insatiable sheep cropped the rich grass; while lower down clumps of tame deer wandered from shade to shade, with twinkling ears. The whole place, without and within, dis- played that perfection and wholeness which is only possible in a counti'y residence when its possessor has large supj)lies of ready money. It was Mr. Campden's boa*t that if anything went amiss, from the bursting of the kitchen-boiler to the breo.king of a window-pane, the mischief was repaired upon the inst.int. " Ten squires, ten yeomen, mail-clad men," might not indeed ■wait "the beck of the warders ten;" nor "thirty steeds, both fleet and wight," stand " saddled in stable day and night," as the poet tell us "was the custom in Branksome Hall;" but there were steeds and serving-men in plenty at Riverside ; and man and horse wei-e despatched to the county town with equal eed, and certainly on much less emergencies than were wont to send them forth from that Border tower. No guest ever bad it bi'ought home to him that he was sojourning at a ttounti'y house from the occurrence of an inconvenience that «}xtended beyond the hour; while every luxury was supplied to him that London could produce. Even the lettuces in the salads were almost as good (though, if there was a weak point: in the Riverside commissariat, it was that which is common to all country places whatsoever — the lettuces) as those bought in Covent Garden itself ; while the asparagus Avas infinitely better. Not a bottle of champagne was ever opened that had not been duly iced. The daily papers arrived by express at 4.30 from the nearest railway-station, and from it was a branch telegraph to the Hall, by which the morning news came down, and was found upon the breakfast-table by the earliest riser. The guests of the house descended to that meal at any time they pleased, oi', if they preferred it, had it served to them in their own apartments ; but the hours for lunch and dinner wero absolutely fixed (as they must be if the cook is to respect bis art), and were stated ou a printed card, and hung up in every bedroom, as prices are at hotels. The wheel of existence was made, in short, to move so smoothly at Riverside, that you forgot the mechanism of strap and cog that are in general so plainly visible, and were apt to take that as a matter of course 14 FALLEN FORTUNES. ■wIiicTi was in reality the result of infinite pains and pi'ovision. When you shifted your quarters, it is true your mistake was immediately rectified ; but it was said, and said truly, by those who had experience in such matters, that to be a guest w ith the Campdens " spoiled you " for visiting anywhere else. What gave Riverside an advantage, however, it must be con- fessed, in such a comparison, was that it stood almost alone iu being essentially a summer residence. Although the eslate was large, there Avas little game upon it, and that little — tho proprietor being no sportsman — was not preserved. Hence, when the house was at its fullest, other country mansions were standing empty, their fashionable owners having gone on tho Continent, or yachting in the Mediterranean ; and when the hunter's horn, or the whirring wing of the pheasant sounded their recall, Riverside in its turn became vacant of guests, and the Campdens came up to town for the winter months. Some- times their daughter Mary would precede them by a few weeks, which she would spend with the Daltons in Cardigan Place ; and sometimes she would tarry behind them, to enjoy " the season " a little longer, under the auspices of the same hostess. The two families, though they called themselves cousins, were only distantly related, but they lived in great familiarity and friendship ; Kate Dalton, in particular, felt almost as much at home at Riverside as beneath her father's roof, and especially on the pi'esent occasion, when her " belongings," as she called them, were her fellow-guests. She had often stayed there alone, just as Mary Gampden — her dearest friend, though she was her senior by two years — had stayed at Cardigan Place ; but the fact was, she was never quite happy when away from her family. Her mother, whom she adored, Avas herself in delicate health, while her sister Jenny was a confirmed invalid, afflicted with a sorb of chronic neuralgia, which at times made any movement of the limbs intolerable ; and Kate was eager to do her share of tendance, and also to take Tony off their hands during his holidays, whose animal spirits — though he, too, was far from physically strong — were at times not a little " trying." It was from their mother that the chil- dren, doubtless, all inherited their delicacy of constitution, for Mr. Dalton was never known to have had " anything tho matter with him," in wind or limb ; but for a certain nervous and im]nilsive temperament, which was common to them all, they had to thank, or to blame, their father. Under an appearance of the most perfect sang-froid, it was TEACHER AND PUPIL. 15 asserted by those who ought to ha%;e known him best that John Dalton concealed a sensitive and passionate natnre, and that though ho was the most popalar man of his day in clubs and on business committees — two very different characters rolled into one — he could show " a deuce of a temper " when displeased. As his wife and children evidently loved him to excess, howevev, it is charitably to be believed that these paroxysms, if he leally did indulge in them, were rare and short-lived. Ho has not yob fa-rived upon the scene in person, but we may make some guess at his character from a specimen of his correspondence, perhaps. The morning letters, despatched in a private bag by express fi^oni Bleabarrow, arrived early at the Hall, and having been taken out of their repository by Mr. JMarks, the butler, were carried up to their respective owners. " There is a letter from master, ma'am," observed Mrs. Dalton's maid, as she entered her apartment, and laid tho missive in question on the dressing-table, at which that lady was already seated. It was, perhaps, impertinent in Lucy to say as much, but she has been many years in her mistress's service, and is well acquainted with all her ways, and even with some of her thoughts. She concludes, for example, that she has risen so early this morning from her anxiety to hear news of her absent husband ; and she is quite right in her surmise. Mrs. Dalton takes the letter quickly, and without any fashionable pretence of not being in a hurry to possess herself of the contents, yet opens it with a certain neatness of touch, of which characteristic no haste can deprive her, Nay, she even takes the opportunity of Lucy turning her back to set down the hot- water can, to press the handwriting to her lips before reading it, like one saying grace before good food. " Bamptox, August 1," began the note, which was, indeed, but a hurried scrawl — " Mt deakest Love, — You will see me to-morrow without fail ; I hope by the train that gets to Bleabarrow at 6.30. Holt was over-sanguine, it seems ; and they tell me if I get in hero at all, it will be a tight squeeze. The people are a roughish lot." (Here the delicate pink fades from the wife's cheek, as when you suddenly remove the light with which you arc showing off your cup of egg-shell china : " Good Ijeavens, there is danger, then [ " she thinks.) " I have been soliciting their sweet voicea fo4 five hours to-day, at ono place or anoHicr, and am dead-sick l6 FALLEN FORTUNES. of it, and as lioarse as a raven. The whole affair is what Jnlia would call 'quite too awful.' I do not myself think I shall succeed, and, unhappily, it is of great importance that I should do so. Do not say anything to Holt of this, however. Kiss my dear ones for me, and tell Jenny I found a fern for her, while I was out canvassing, which seems to mo to be rare ; but I daresay it will bo at once detected by her learned eye to be something " 1 shall see yon to-morrow, sweetheart, whether I shall hav^e to be congratulated or consoled ; that is something; but ' wouM it were Kuppar-l-lme and all were well.' " Ever jours, Joirx Daltox. "P.S — Don't say a word to Holt, or anybody, of my mis- givings." Ml'.s. Dalton read this letter again and again. There were things in it that puzzled her (such as the reference to supper- time. " I kope he is not hnrting himself by taking suppers, which never agree with him," was her mental commentary upon that passage) ; but she knew those were not of importance : what gave her most uneasiness were the allusions to Mr. Plolt, whose name was mentioned no less than three times, Mr. Holt was a stockbroker, aa Kate had told her friend ; but even if she could have answered ner general inquiry as to what a stockbroker was, which is doubtful, she could certainly not have explained the nature cf the calling of Mr. Holt in parti- cular. Few persons, indeed, could have done so. His doings were by no means confined to scrip and share ; he had a finger in every pie from which " plums " are picked ; and wherever there were wires, it was his aim to pull one. His influence over her husband Mrs. Dalton was well aware was great, though she did not know how it was obtained. It seemed to her very strange, and almost humiliating, that her John, who was so clever and brilliant, should allow himself to be persuaded into this and that by such a blunt, plain man as Richard Holt, one rather younger than older than himself (though he did not look youuger), and who had nothing to recommend him beyond a ei'iaracter for shrewdness. She wou.ld have been indignant with anyone to whose opinion her husband had deferred ; but the iiifiuence of this nuin was peculiarly obnoxious to her, since it }iad drawn hiiu into business and politics, which she detested, because they took him so much from her and home. She had hitherto seen no other evil in them, and certainly no danger ; TEACHER AND PUPIL. I7 biit a pliraso in her husband's letter, or rather a WorJ in the phrase, had now excited her apprehensions. " J do not myself think I shall succeed " (that is, in being elected for Bampton) ; "and, unhappily, it is of great importance I should do so." Of course it was important that John should get into Parliament, but why should he have written " unhappihj, it is of great importance ? " He was wont to write rapidly, to dash ofl: his words, indeed, as fast as his pen could form them ; but he rarely used an unfitting word, or a superfluous one. She had not thought so much of John's becoming a senator as most wives equally devoted to their husbands would have done, but that was because she had so high an opinion of his talents, reputation, and social position that no adventitious distinction could, in her eyes, make him a greater man. It was simple in her to think so much of him, but it was singularly becoming. It had been once said by a very great reader of mankind — one who had studied " each mode of the lyre " of human life, and had " mastered them all " — that Mrs. John Dalton was " the nicest woman in England ; " and though that had been said at a time when she was one of the prettiest, her niceness had not departed •>ith the years. It might almost have been said that her pretti- iless had remained with her also — as one sees her standing now, with that letter in her hand, but gazing thoughtfully through the open window ; only " prettiness " could not have expressed that matured grace. Her once golden hair no longer ripples in bright waves, and is streaked here and there with silver ; her slight form has lost its comely outlines, and her whole appear- ance denotes fragility ; but the love-light in her eyes shines out as clearly as in her bridal days, and burns with that sacred flame which years of constancy and trial alone can give it, and Avhich no loss nor cross can ever extinguish ; a saint as holy and as pure as any virgin of the cloister ; a guardian angel set in the niche of Home. She had not thought much, I say, of how things might go afc Bampton ; but now that she heard that they might go unlLa]_)pilD, her feelings changed, and the matter assumed that *' great im- portance," though she knew not on what account, that it wore in her husband's eyes. Everyone said, and justly, how kind and unselfish Mrs. Dalton was; how tender to misfortune; how gentle as well as liberal to the poor ; how ready and eager to heal family differences. She had been appealed to, more than once, to intercede for a spendthrift son, and once even for a ruuawa-y daughter ; and not in vain ; and yet she only lived fot c 1 8 FALLEN FOR TUNES. her huslaud and her children. Her heart was open to all the world — it was difficult to close it against even the wicked ; but in her heart of hearts were the images of those four beloved ones set up alone as idols. " God and my country " was not her motto, though, jierhaps, she would have gone as far to serve her country as the foremost of our female politicians ; but simply " God and my dear ones ; " for them, however, she would have laid doAvn her life without a sigh. To no purpose she ransacks her mind for any sign that might point to the cause of John's anxiety abou.t this election ; it would cost him some considerable sum of money, she was aware, but she also knew that he had calculated the cost, and had the money to .spare. It was not usual with him to confide his business affairs to her ; but he had told her so much as that in answer to her gentle expostulations against his embracing political life at all. The " unhappiness " could therefore have nothing to do with money matters ; and yet it had certainly to do with Mr. Holt, whose connection with her husband was based solely upon them. They had nothing else in common, she was quite sure. She had her doubts whether they were even quite good friends, though they were thought to be so by everybody. Indeed, she was aware that Mr. Campden had asked Mr. Holt dov.'n to Riverside entirely upon her husband's account, and, as she suspected, even at his express request, " Bo not say any- thing to Holt, hoivever," read she again. But why sJiould she say anything ? Why should John suppose that she should have spoken to the man about such private affairs at all ? He was a person, as her husband well knew, for whom she had no liking, and whom she kept at as great a distance as politeness permitted ; so that the injunction was quite superfluous ; and yet it was re- peated in his postscript. "Don't say a word to Holt, or any- body, of my misgivings." She would not, of course, say a word to anybody, since he had forbidden it ; but without that warning, she would certainly not have dreamed of saying one word of John's affairs to Mr. Holt. Mrs. Dalton has done with her letter at last, and every line of it having been committed to memory, places it in her bosom ; Ihcn calling up a smile upon her face, she opens a green baize door, and knocks at another door behind it. " Come in, dear mamma," answers a cheerful voice ; and she enters the neat room accordingly. This is a luxuriously f ur« nished apartment, hung with pictures, lined with books, and evidently not intended as a sleeping room; yet there isa charia* TEACHER AND PUPlL 1 9 m» little bed in ifc, with rose-coloured curtains lianging upon it- like a tent, and also an article of furniture that looks like a second bed, though it is only a reclining couch of peculiar con- struction. Upon this latter a young girl of about seventeen is lying, propped up Avith cushions, at the window, and apparently sketching the pi'ospect it affords. " "What ! up and at work already, Jenny ? Surely that is not prudent, my darling ? " There is a look of pain but not of re- proof upon the mother's face as she stoops down to kiss her child ; and it is reflected in that of her daughter. But the pain of the former is mental, and that of the latter is physical. " I felt rather uneasy in bed, mamma, so exchanged it for the couch ; and when Lucy came she moved it to the window." " But, my poor child, what did you do with yourself till she called you ? Why did you not pull the string for me ? " She pointed to a little cord that passed under the two doors, and formed a communication between her daughter's bed and her own. " Oh, it was too early to wake you, mamma ; and yet it was broad daylight, so that I could do my lace-work. There was a letter from papa, Lucy said." "Yes, dear. He will be here to-day, he hopes in time for dinner ; he wrote but a short note, yet sent an especial message to yourself. He is bringing back a little present for you ; " and she gave Jenny the message about the fern. " How good of him it was," said the invalid, flushing up, " to think of me Avhen he was canvassing ! Was it not, mamma ? " " I believe your papa thinks of you at all times, Jenny. I hope you will have a good report to give of yourself to him, in spite of this bad night." " Oh, the night was not bad, mamma ; only a little long ; and as for me. Dr. Curzon says I am pounds better than I was when I last came to Rivei-side. He told me last night at the charades, that he hoped to see me act a milkmaid carrying pails next yeai*, as naturally as Kitty did the housemaid with her broom. How charming she looked ! did she not ? And so did Polly, for that matter ; only I thought that Polly was a trifle too natural — ■ looked the character to too great perfection." " Most girls in cotton prints and flyaway caps with red ribbons, would look the part that they were playing, sn^ dear," said Mrs. L'alton, quickly. " Tes, but our Kitty did not. It was easy enough, as Mr'* ao FALLEN FORTUNES, Holfc whispered to me, to see who was the princess in disguise. "That w^as a pretty little compliment, no doubt, and had tmtb besides to recommend it. But do you know, mamma " — here Jenny be^an to sketch most vigorously — " I don't much like that Mr. Holt." " Why not, my dear ? He seems a very inoffensive person." "Yes, he does not bile one, certainly; indeed, the creature makes ujd to us as though he had very good intentions indeed." " The creature, my dear ! " " Well, I should have said the man, I suppose. But even you, mamma, whose good word is worth so little, as Mrs. Campdcn says, because everybody has it, even you could not call Mr. Holt a ' gentleman.' If you except his hat and his boots — which I own are very brilliant — he can scarcely be said to * shine in society.' " " As to shining, everybody is not expected to do that, my dear Jenny. But since your papa thinks him good enough to keep company with /wm, Mr. Holt is good enough, I suppose, for most societies," answered Mi-s. Daltou, drily. " Well, papa can make friends with everybodj', mamma. Ho is equally at home with a bishop and a bargee." " My dear Jenny " " Nay, mother ; I was only referring to the versatility of papa's genius. Now, we are not all of us so talented in that respect: and I, for my part, do not feel at ease in Mr. Richard Holt's company. It is ungrateful of me, I know, because he evidently intends to be extraordinarily civil." " It is not only ungrateful, but unjust, Jenny ; it is plain to me that you are entertaining an unfounded prejudice against this person." " A prejudice, certainly ; but whether unfounded or not remains to be pi'oved. Lookcrs-ou, dear mamma, it is said, see most of the game ; and at the game of life, I, on my couch here, am fated to be but a looker-on. I am carried downstairs, and set down among the rest ; but no one takes notice of me — of course, I don't mean you, dear," added she quickly, in answer to her mother's glance offender reproof; "nor anyone that is dear to yor. ; but I am referring to strangers generally. Then I amuse myself Avith making my little observations — ' the cliilA amongst us takin' notes,' as papa calls me." "Your papa spoils you, Jenny, and makes yon think too much of yourself, I fear. How is it possible that a girl of your years, and with so small an experience of life " TEACHEk AND PUPIL. 21 " Less than even that of most girls," put iu Jenny, quietly, " by reason of my infirmity ; I acknowledge all that." "Well, then, how is it possible, my dear, that you can judge rightly of grown-up people ? " " It is instinct, I suppose, or intuition; but papa says I liavo got it." Jenny has at all events some sagacity, thus to invoke her father's authority in corroboration of her pretensions. Mrs. Dalton suddenly dropped her tone of reproof, and answered laughingly : " My dear Jenny, yoa are a shocking egotist ; and it is useless to reason with such self-conceit. But since you have already passed this infallible judgment of yours upon poor Mr, Holt, may I ask you what it is ? " " But, mamma, you won't be angry ? " " Angry, no ; except with myself, perhaps, for putting such a foolish question to a child like you," " Well, it is my opinion that Mr, Holt is a H-U-M-B-U-G." " But why, Jenny ? " " Nay, I cannot say why. An oracle givea its answer, buf. never its reasons; indeed, I could not give mine if I tried. I have seen a hundi*ed tilings in the man — of course, but lilth^ things — yet all pointing the same way. Mr. Holt is acting a part, as much as Kitty was acting one last night ; ho has something in view, from which he would divert the attention of others. But there " — and Jenny laughed a merry laugh, which had a certain goblin ring about it too — " I will say no niovis except that he is a humbug." " Considering that Mr. Holt is especially eateomeu in the City for his shrewd and straightforward character, Jenny," rei^lied Mrs. Dalton, gravely, " I think you have said quite enough to upset your pretensions as a seer." " That is suspicious, though," said Jenny, slily. " What is ? " " Why, his being so * esteemed for,' &c. How could he be all that, and in the City too, unless he was a humbug ? " " I don't understand you, Jenny. You might just as well say tbat because your dear papa is so admired and beloved by almost everybody, that lie is a — that very vulgar word you used just now." " Oh, papi is like nobody else in the woi*ld, and is not to bo judged by ordinary rules," replied Jenny, naively. " It is his mission to make things pleasant, whereas it is not Mr. Holt's TOif^sioTi by any means, and his c!^deq,vQ^^s to d.o so are iflQf^t 22 FALLEN FORTUNES. ridiculous. His attempts at a joke are like the gamboling of that horse on his back yonder, all hoof and teeth, in the field ; they are only laughable because they aie so clumsy." " But everybody can't be lively aud agreeable, like your papa." " Then don't let them try," answered Jenny, -with irritation ; *' and, above all things, don't let them tiy to be insinuating, and soft and tender, Avhen they are obviously rhinoceroses and hippopotamuses, and cannot do it vrithout blowing into one's ear. Don't let them " Here she was interrupted by a soit drumming noise at the door, which gradually rose and swelled in volume, till it became an excellent imitation of a gong. *' Come in," said Jenny, laughing; "come in, you naughty boy." Then the door opened, and disclosed a youth of about nine years old, with a thin but merry face, set in a thicket of brown curls, and above the curls a parcel of school-books, which he held there by one hand, as a maiden holds her pitcher at the well. He closed the door softly, then took a noiseless run and slide upon the carpet that landed him at the foot of the couch. '■And how is my pretty mamma ? " inquired he as he kissed her cheek. " And how is my venerable coach ? " added he, addressing Jenny. " Well, the coach is a little out of repair, Tony, this morn- ing," answered the young girl ; " and I doubt whether it will be able to carry all those passengei-s : ' Cornelius Nepos,' ' Virgil,' ' Cfesar,' and the wicked ' Colenso ' " "There was an old Bishop of Natal Who had a Zulu for a pal," quoted the boy gaily. "Said the Zulu, 'Look here' " " Be quiet, Tony ; I won't have you say such things," said Jenny, sharply. " It is all very well for grown-up people, but not for children." "But Jeff is not grown up — at least so eveiybcdy says, except himself — and he sings : " There was an old Bishop of Natal Whose views upon Moses were fatal." "Hush ! " said Jenny, holding her finger up rebnkefnlly, and pointing to Mrs. Dalton, who was looking out of the v-'indow, apparently absorbed in thought. TEACHER AND PUPIL. 23 Pupil and teacher were very like to one another ; tht former had all the hues of health, bub they were delicate hues, and the expression of his thin features was feminine, though intelligent in a high degree. His eyes, too, though large and lustrous, were very soft, and as his curling hair mingled with his sister's caressingly, the two might almost have been taken for sisters. " What istroubliug dear mamma ? " whispered he gently. " Hush ! Nothing. But yoit, will trouble her if you sing songs like that. Why have you brought all those books with you this morning, instead of your lesson ? " " Well, I want to get all my lessons over at once. I got up this morning on jDurpose to learn them ; for there are to be sports at Bleabarrow to-day, Jeff says — wrestling, and leaping, and all sorts— and Jeff is going to take me." "Geoffrey would make yon as idle as himself, if that were possible," said Jenny, her wan fingers playing with her brother's hair ; " but I don't fancy you will be trusted to go with him to any such place. What do you think, mamma, of Tony's going So Bleabarrow Feast under the wing of Master Geoffrey ? " " Indeed, my child, I don't think that will quite do," said his mother, thus appealed to. " Mrs. Campden has, I know, a bad opinion of such gathei'ings, and Jeff is but a boy. I am afraid you must give them up, Tony, unless the sports can wait till after papa comes home. I have got a letter which says Ave may expect him to-night. Is not that good news ? " "Yes, of course," said Tony, hanging his head down a little. " But couldn't Mrs. Campden send Robert with me ? " " No, darling ; a servant would, under the circumstances, be worse than nobody. A child should have some grown-up per- son, who is a gentleman, with him, when he goes to such places." "Then I've got leave to go," cried Tony, exultingly; "for a grown-up gentleman has promised to go with me, though I would rather have gone with Jeff and Robert, if I could." " You don't mean to say you have inveigled good Mr. Campden ? " cried Mrs. Dalton, not, perhaps, displeased at this proof of her little son's powers of persuasion. " It's not Mr. Campden, mamma — it's Mr. Holt. He heard Jeff say that he doubted whether Mrs. Campden would like me to go with him, and offered to take me himself." Mother and daughter exchanged a rapid glance of astonish- ment, and Jenny broke oat into one of her musical but mocking laughs. " Mr, Holt in charge of a srtiall boy at Bleabarrow Feast ! " 24 FALLEN FOR TUNES. cried she. " That will be a more amusing spectacle than any the sports will have to offer." " I think it was very good-natured of Mr. Holt," observed Mrs. Dalton, gravely, "and very unselfish; for, as you say, it is quite out of his line, and he has nothing to gain by it." " I don't remember that I said tliai, mamma," cbserved Jenny, drily. " Well, if you are going to these sports, Anthony, we inusfc go on with our lessons." And pupil and teacher com- menced their usual task accordingly. CHAPTER HI. IN THE ROSE-GARDEN. All rooms at Riverside Hall are good rooms, including those of the servants, which, instead of being ill-lit, ill-warmed, with sloping roofs and mere apologies for windows — such as avo common in all those ancient mansions which we see pictured in " Gentlemen's Seats" or "The Ancestral Homes of England " — are comfortable, and of fair size ; but even at Riverside there are distinctions. The guest-rooms appropriated for bachelors, for example, thougk well and even luxuriously furnished, do not look out towards the front of the house. The penalty inflicted upon unmarried persons beneath that hos- pitable roof is to have their view restricted to the croquet-ground, the rosary, and the hill-park (as it is called) at the back of the liouse. The stables are hidden away in akollow, and approached by a secret way known only to the household, for it is not Mr. Campden's habit, as it is that of many country gentlemen, to lead his male friends thither after breakfast to discuss hocks and pasterns, and to inhale the fine flavour of the saddle-room and worse. But even this back view is not to be despised by those, such as Mr. Richard Holt, who had been shut up in Abdcll Court, in the City of London, for eight hours a day through spring and summer, and doubtless that gentleman would have been enjoying it this morning, had he not had something more impoi'tant to engage his attention. A goodly batch of letter.s had, as usual, arrived for him by tbe morning's post, and in their contents, though lie is up and dressed, and sitting at the open window, he is rapt for the present, to the exclusion of ex- ternal objects. He is one of those men — if you will take the opportunity of observing him — for whom the letter-bag has always paramount importance ; men who do not mix readily lyitn those about tliem, or find pleasure or even engrossing !N riiE rose-gardejv. as employment in the present ; whose thoughts are semi-occupied, w hose very j^aze is filmed over, as it were, with the web of their projects. They are never sure of their movements, or of the length of their sojourn in any place ; all must depend, they say, "upon the afternoon post," as though they were in a constant crisis of uflUirs, which a lino of somebody's handwriting must settle for them one way or another: an unhappy class of people enough, but whose anxieties, lot us hope, arc not quite £0 over- whelming as they would have us believe. It would be unjust, however, to accuse Mr. Richard Holt of affectation ; he is much too sagacious to be affected, and often finds circumstances much too serious to need any exaggeration of their importance. Indeed, it is just now his constant en- deavour to avoid that nppearance of pre-occupation peculiar to weaker brethren of his kind, and to play the part of a frank and easy-going man of the world — that is, of the thoughtless, high- placed, and luxurioiis world in which he finds himself, to confess the truth, for the first time. It must not, however, be supposed that our new acquaintance is a vulgar fellow. His appearance is good ; he is six feet high, and well-built ; his large features, if somewhat grave and still, are capable of considerable expression, and if he looks old for his age — which is five-and-forty — he has looked about the same age for the last ten years, and will probably look no older for ten yeo^rs to come. His eyes are hard, and he knows it ; if he could make them otherwise, he would very gladly do so ; he can smile and speak softly, and his tongue has no lack of persuasion upon certain topics ; but when his talk ranges beyond business affairs, he cannot get his eyes to accompany his voice, and the result is a want of harmony. People talk about the intense significance of the jaw and chin, and, very possibly (for there is no limit to such folly), of the lobes of the ears ; but Mr. Holt, who was no fool, and never attempted to deceive himself (whatever his conduct might bo as respected others), knew that his eyes were not what they should be, and that it was a great misfortune to him. They were not ugly, by any means : not those hard-boiled ones, the balls of which project like the yolk of a stale poached egg ; but long years of calculation and plodding, and standing upon his guard against rogue and scoundrel, had, as it were, set them, and they could never melt again either with love or pity, how- ever nearly hia heart might be touched by either. However, he still finds them exceedingly useful ; one glance suffices to pub Uioj iu possession of the contents of most of the letters that s6 FALLEN FOR TONES. have arrived for liim tliis morning, after bestowing -which, be cither tears the communication in small fragments, or places ifc in a hnge pocket-book of Russian leather, which he always carries in his left breast-pocket, giving him the lopsided appear- ance of an amazon. Two notes, however, afford some cause for deliberation, and he gives each a second attentive perusal ; one is from his confidential clerk in Abdell Court. " Metn, — Broolcs lias cabled as folloivs : * Sell Laras : whole CONCERN A PLANT,' " On another slip of paper was written : " Dear Sir, on the wJiole advisable not to telegraph to you, esioecialhj as the exchange had closed ivhen the neios arrived.^' "Brand has got a head on his shouldei'S," mused Mr. Holt, with a gi'im smile, as he read these words ; " almost too good a head for my service. On the first opportunity I shall let him run loose." " Astor left yesterday, but with no immediate 'Intention, I have reason to believe, of quitting England. I hope you, find the country air is doing you benefit. — Yours truly, Robert Brand." " Well, that is a good riddance every way, though I should have felt happier had the scoundrel put the scfis between hire and a certain person ; the last man in the world, however, as is. happens, he is likely to foregather with. Master Philip knew too much." With a thoughtful brow, Mr. Holt takes up the second letter that he had reserved from the batch, and for the second timo examined the postmark, Bampton. " This comes just in the nick of time, for the news it brings will shape my views about the mine. I shall have the whole day to think about how to play my fish. It was uncommon Bhai'p of Brand to recollect that they had a private wire here, which makes all communications public. " ' I thought it, on the tvhole, advisable not to telegraph.'' Con- found his sagacity ! I will certainly get rid of him on the first oppc ftunity, and select a less intelligent lieutenant. If he does not know too much, this shows he has suspicions, and I don't like suspicious people about me. ' Bampton, Headquarters. — Our canvass is noiv over. The contest n-ill be a narroio one. Mr. Grig/p will bo the man.'' " That was all the second note contained, but it seemed to affect its recipient even more gravely than the first. "Things are coming, then, to a crisis," muttered he, "and earlier than I expected." He sat, plunged in thought, for a i\k\\ IN THE ROSE-GARDEN. 27 minute; iTien, " The man has nobody to thank but himself for what will happen," exclaimed he, in a firm voice. If " the man " — whoever he was — had been standing before him in the flesh, and accusing him of having been the cause of his misfortunes, his denial could not have been more earnest and explicit. As he spoke, a clear and xnnging voice made the air musical without : " Bh'ds in our wood sang, ringing through the valleys : Maud is here, here, here — iu among the lilies." He started up excitedly, his ordinary pale cheek flaming' crimson, as a man flushes when another has given him the lie ; but as the song went on, a curious change came over him. The lines of thought and care seemed to grow faint upon his brow, and the whole expression of his face to soften ; his lips parted with a smile, and he lifted up his hand for silence, as though ha had not been alone : " I kissed her slender hand ; she took the kiss sedately ; Maud is not seventeen, but she is tall and stately." Holt smiled softly towards the window, and, keeping himself conoealod behind the curtain, peered cautiously through its folds. In the rose-garden, as it was called, from the flowers to which the little plot of ground was exclusively devoted, and immediately beneath the window, stood Kate Dalton, in the act of plucking a bud which she had just selected from a bunch that grew above her head. Her face was full in view ; the morning sun shone on her bright tresses, and transmuted them to gold ; its beams darted at her eyes so lovingly that sbe was forced to almost close them, so that their long silken lashes were made plainly visible ; the position of the rosebud necessitated her standing for an instant on her toes, and exemplified that particular grace of which the employment of high-heeled shoes is supposed (very erroneously) to supply an imitation ; the extended arms lent a fulness to the otherwise too slender bust ; the shapely head seemed to be crowned with nodding roses^ It was, indeed, " a picture to make an old man young ; " and upon Richard Holt, who was by no means old, according to his own reckoning, it had a very singular effect — it made him giddy. His head went round with him ; his heart sank, down, down, with a feeling of sickness ; and for the moment he clung to the curtain to steady himself, if not to preserve him from a fall. The next moment bn hud stepped quickly across the room to his dressing-case— 28 FALLEN FORTUNES. not the solid and elaborate affair tliat such articles generally were at Riverside, but a mere roll of leather containing various articles of the toilet — and taken from it a pair of scissors. Slipping these into his pocket, he left his room, and descended the stairs with hurrying steps. The breakfast-parlour, though empty, save for an attendant, had all things prepared for the morning meal ; but he passed by the door, and out into the hall. He joansod for an instant at the hat-stand, doubtful whether ho should select the "chimney-pot," which he usually Avore, and which he knew suited him best, or the " wideawake," which he had brought down in compliance with the fashions of the country, Uiduckily for his personal appearance, he chose the latter, which had the effect ol" a clumsy disguise. It took away from liim his City air, it is true, but substituted for it that of some confidential servant who has tlie immediate revei'sion of his master's clothes. Aristocracy has not yet issued a stamp by which even the most distinguished member of it can be recog- nised in a bad hat; nor is it everyone who can "cany oil'" even a wideawake. The newer it is, the worse it looks on some folks ; and the wideawake of Mr. Richard Holt, of Abdell Court, was very new. If the handle of the joair of scissors that were lying in his breast-pocket had been but visible, one would haye set him down, I am afraid, as a master tailor. It was nob in the nature of things that Mr. Holt should run, but he moved rapidly aci'oss the gravel sweep, and through the shrubbery that led by devious ways to the rose-garden, and arrived there just in time io see Kate Dalton — kissed. It is lerrible to have to record it, but it" is the truth — kissed by a young gentleman. There was no time for J\Ir. Holt to rcsti-ain his headlong speed, and to protend not to sec it. His position was precisely that of the spectatoi described in that famous ballad, of which all the verses save one have been lost in tho mists of time : " I saw Esaii kissing Kato, And tlie fact is we all three saw, For I saw Esau, lie saw me. And she saw I saw Esau." Only in this case it was not Esau ; for Esau, we have reason to know, was a hairy man, and the offender on the present occasion liad a cheek as smooth as a girl's. Hair is not hair (and how true this of many a native-looking chignon ! ) when it is down, and Jeff's lip h?.d only down to boast of. This may not seem of nnich /iV THE ROSE-GARDEiV. I9 Cohsequetice to the reader, but to E-icliard Holt it was a great mitigation of the shock which he experienced. Tlio attachment of a boy and girl is never more ridiculous and immaterial than in the eyes of a middle-aged man who himself has only just begun to feel Love's dart. Moreover, Master Geoffrey Derwent's lips had only saluted Kate's fingers, and there is really nothing in that ; for does not the Queen herself permit the same liberLr to mayors and consuls ? Nay, even for this tran.'jgression thero had been a very sufficient cause, had Mr. Holt but known it. He had last set eyes on Kate, you remember, when she was reaching for the rosebud, and trilling that exquisite little verse : ' ' I kissed licr slender hand ; she took the kiss sedately ; Maud is not seventeen, but she is tall and stately." At that instant, if Mr. Holt had not been in such a hurry to bring the scissors, he might have heard a merry voice chime in with : " Maud is tall and stately, but not tall enough to reach that bud without assistance ; " and then a longer arm than hers interposed, and drew down the flower. When he had done that - — not in a hurry, you know, but v/ith a quiet deliberation and ever so much solicitude to remove the thorns from the stalk — • it was only in accordance with the etei-nal fitness of things that he should " kiss her slender hand ;" and it is my firm conviction that she would have taken it "sedately" enough, but for Mr. Richard Holt's unexpected intei'vention. As ifc was, though her face flushed like any rose around her, she mei'ely observed : " How rude you ai-e, Jeff ;" tlien turned to the new-comer with a cold " Good-morning, Mr. Holt." If she had been seventy instead of seventeen (she was in fact eighteen), she could hardly have carried off" that little incident with greater sang-froid, or more perfect self-command. Master Jcfl" on the other hand, a tall and feomely lad, with light hair, but bright black eyes, glared haughtily at the intruder, as though the rose-garden had been his own private preserve, which the other had violated ; while Mr, Holt stood dumfoundered, and slowly produced his scissors. " I saw you from my window yonder. Miss Dalton," — he looked up towards it, as though for corroboration of his story, but her eye did not follow his ; she looked as though, if there was one t'ling on earth absolutely indifferent to her, and withoMt one scintilla of interest, it was the situation of Mr. Holt's apartment J "and remarking that you had a difficulty 30 FALLEN FORTUNES. ■with your frieuds — or, may I say, relatives ? for tliere is a strong family likeness — the roses, I brought you this pair of scissors." " Thanks," said Kate, not taking them from his hand; " but I have gathered all I want." She had but two buds, one of which she carried in her It!":, hand, and the stalk of the other she Avas now tying to a leaf or two with a piece of silk, obviously getting it readj for somebody's button-hole. That new word "Thanks," so common in young ladies' mouths nowadays, seems, somehow, to lack the warmth and grace of their old " Thank you," and to Mr. Holt's ears it sounded particularly cold. He stood snipping the scissors, for want of something to say or do, and gazing longingly at the little bud, which she had by this time transformed into a fairy bouquet .Kate's heart, which had been hardened by his 1ua^rt-2J;•0jJ0s appearance, began to feel some pity for this man, to whom she had certainly been some- what discourteous. "Mamma tells me that you have been kind enough to sacrifice yourself for Tony's sake, Mr. Holt, so far as to accompany him to the sports at Bleabarrow. Jenny was * spurting ' him, as he calls it, through his ' Cfesar ' this morning, in order that he might go off to them early." " It is no sacrifice, I am sure — that is, if I can ever be of any use to you or yours, it never seems so." " I don't see why Mr. Holt should trouble himself," said Geoffrey, " since I promised Tony to take him long ago." "Tes; but then, you see, you are but a boy, like himself, Jeff," observed Kate; "it would be like the blind leading the blind, to trust you with Tony among all those queer, rough people." " I don't think them at all queer," returned the lad, brusquely; " they are honest and hearty folks, who never do harm to any- body, except now and then to themselves, through taking too much beer." "But then they don't know what they do," remarked Mr, Holt, mildly, delighted to find Kate and himself conducting this little argument in concert. "Just so," said Kate. "Now don't bo cross, Jeff", merely because you have not arrived at years of discretion, which is a question of time, you know, though to some people of a very long time." At this Mr. Holt laughed approvingly, though Kate had jyRS. CAMPDEN ORDERS THE PONV-CARRUGE. %\ I sliowu no siicli appreciation of his allusion to her likeness to the roses, T,vl:icb. he had thought particularly hapjjy and oppor- tune, Jeff took no more notice ol his laugh, nor of his I'emark. than if he had not been present. " Of course, I knew that Mrs. Campden would object to my going with Tony — she always does object to my doing anything — but I should have thought your mother would have trusted me, Kate." " Certainly, my dear Jeff, mamma would trust you ; she always says you are the best of boys. There now, you are taking huff again : and here's a rosebud for your jacket — I mean your coat." And with that she placed the little nosegay in his button-hole, while the young fellow thanked her with his eyes. " That should make amends to Mr. Derwent for anything," said Mr. Holt, significantly, as the three moved slowly towards the house. '* I am sure I would submit to be distrusted " " Or even to be called too young," interrupted Jeff, stung into unaccustomed epigram. " Certainly, I would submit to that indignity," continued Mr. Holt, good-naturedly — though his unhappy eyes would not look good-natured, in spite of all his efforts — " and indeed to any other, for such a guerdon. You have still another flower, I see, Miss Dalton, and remember, I cZic? bring you the scissors, though I was too late." " You are too late again, Mr. Holt," answered Kate, gently, as they ascended the steps at the front-door ; " I have only this rosebud left, and I always give one, as you know, to Uncle George." CHAPTER IV. LIT??. GAMPBEN ORDERS THE PONT-CARRIAGE. Mk. Campden was not Kate's uncle, being only, even by marriage, a distant cousin ; but the relations betvreGii him and the Daltons were so cordial, that the junior members of the latter family always called him by that title — which I am not quite sure that his wife relished, since she, who was the blood- relative, was never entitled aunt. He Avas a bluff, kindly man of some fifty years of age, and though he had always been engaged in commerce — till fortune had filled both his pockets and enabled him to retire on his gains — his appearance v/as thai 32 FALLEN FORTUNES. of a iliorough couuLry gentleman. That lie posses'^ed sdMO astuteness, bis great success attested ; -while that he had somo ideas beyond mere money-making was certain, from his choice of Riverside as a residence ; but these mental gifts would never have been guessed at by ordinary observers; indeed, Machiavelli liimself would have been puzzled to make much, of Uncle George, since he rarely opened his lips save to admit his meals or the end of a cigar. His existence had been, in fact, absorbed by the superior vitality of his wife. It had not, indeed, been always so ; there Avere some who professed to have seen hiui make some show of resistance to her indomitable will ; but. though her seizure of the poor gentleman had been very gradual — inch by inch, as a cobra swallows a rabbit — he had nevei recovered any portion of himself that had once been appro- priated, and the process of deglutition had long ago been com- pleted. Mr. Campden still drew hip breath independently of his wife, and that was all : he never attempted to shape it, without her leave and license, into a word of command, or even the ex- pression of a wish ; at times, when elated, he would break out into a confession of his own state of thraldom — as a helot in his caps might have done — in which thei-e was a touch of humour, bearing witness that he had some individuality still left in him; but these little jets of independence grew every day more rare, and it was plain that their source was drying up. If he bad been a septuagenarian married to a young girl of twenty, his thraldom could not have been more complete than it had become of late, and an old friend had on one occasion taken the liberty to tell him so. " I know it, my dear fellow," ho had replied, without a trace of irritation at this plain speaking; "and, un- happily, Julia is more than twenty." Indeed, there was no reason — absolutely none — to a looker-on, why Mrs. Campden should have got her husband so entirely under her thumb. She had not been very young Avhen he married her, nor very pretty, nor particularly accomplished ; and whatever might have been her attractions in these respects, they had certainly not improved with years ; yet every year she had placed him in closer bondage, till he could now scarce move hand or foot. He had still, however, a smile for everybody, and it was tiniversally understood that he would do a good turn for anyone, unless his wife had issued a special ukase to tho contrar}^ He was amazingly popular with all young people, and, indeed, with old ones also, although the more thoughtful of his friends regarded his state of servitude with just contempt. MJiS. CAMPDEN ORDERS THE POXV-CAliRlAGE. %% " ^yllen a man is downriglit licupecked," said John Dalton, " it almosb always arises from his having committed peccadillos^- which have come to his -wife's ears ; but poor Campden has ni such ' set-off' to comfort him ; he has fallen a victim to his Julia through sheer indolence." And this -was the true state of the case. Moreover, it cannot be denied that Mrs. Campden possessed that gift in i-eality "which is always imputed to those members of our governing classes w^ho have nothing perceptible to recommend them — administrative capacity. She was essen- tially a managing woman, and would have swallowed everybody else, inch by inch, if she had had the chance, just as she had swallowed her husband ; her love of power had " stomach for them all ;" and yet a more unambitious and " ordinary" looking little woman than Mrs. Campden it is not easy to imagine. Even now, as she sits at the head of her own breakfast-table, there is nothing of despotism in her look or manner ; and only by tho unusual quickness with which tho servants execute her orders, and wait upon her rather to the exclusion of her guests, would you guess her to be the Tartar she really is. Her skin, however, though not particularly delicate, is of that unfortunate kind that betrays emotion, and her pale face will glow like a peony on very slight occasion ; her voice, too, which is unusually thin and low, will, if opposed, become metallic. Curiously enough, Ihis is the case, though in a less degree, with Miss Mary also ; and when mother and daughter have their little wrangles — in which the latter is always discomfited — their argument at a little distance resembles the dropping of copper coin — as if they were playing " odd and even" for halfpence. This morning, however, Mrs. Campden is all smiles and harmony ; she has just succeeded in persuading Mrs. Dalton, who sits on her right hand, to accompany her in her pony- carriage that afternoon, for a long drive ; and her victory has flattered her, for she knows that Mrs. Dalton did not want to go, being anxious upon her husband's account, who is sure to telegraph to her at the close of the poll. "My dear," observed her hostess, " that is just the reason 1 v,anted to take you ; the time will pass quickly, I hope, in paying our little visits; and once away from the house, you will cease to fidget about the news that may come from Bampton." " Well, as you please, my dear Julia ; but I am afraid I shall prove but a dull companion," sighs Mrs. Dalton, after somo attempts at escape --as vain as those of a gold-fish iu a glasa boTvl. 34 FALLEN FORTUMRS, " I have never fciuiid you ilwi., clear Edith," answers tlio othex-, laughinglj. " I wish, Mr. Holt, that yoa were ascertain of having a pleasant afternoon as I am with Mrs. Dal ton. I fear you will find cur Bleabarrow festivities very heavy." "Yes, indeed, I am sure it is most kind of Mr. Holt to go with Tony," said Mrs. Dalton ; "for though I have the utmost faith in JefF " — here she slid her hand down to Geoffrey's knee, •who sat beside her, and patted it, in sign of affectionate con- fidence — " his good-nature has made him too much of a playmate with my boy, to admit of his ever using, du© authority." " Oh, ilicd is not to be thought of for a moment," observed Mrs. Campden, austerely. " I don't think any harm is likely to happen to my young charge," smiled Mr. Holt; "unless he should insist upon com- peting among the light-weights." " And why not, if there are boys ? " inquired Touy, earnestly. " Oh, how shocking ! " cried Mrs. Campden. " That would be a pretty thing for a young gentleman to do : to wrestle with all those vulgar creatures." " It would be only excusable if he were standing forBampton instead of his father," observed Mr. Holt ; " then, indeed, it would go down very well, as a proof that, though a Whig, he had got no pride about him." *' By-the-bye, Mr. Holt, you have not chanced to hear any- thing this morning about the election, I suppose ? " inquired Mrs. Dalton ; not because she thought it at all probable that ho had done so, but in order to anticipate any question upon his part which it would be embarrassing to her to answer. " Not a word," answered Mr. Holt, touching at the sanu^ time — whether in proof of his veracity, or to convince himself of the safety of the manuscript^ — the breast-pocket which con- tained the memorandum from Headquarters. " But your hu.sband is sui'e to telegraph directly the thing is certain." "Oh, I /.-HOW," said Mrs. Dalton; "and that is why I was rather wishing to stay at home this afternoon ; " and she east an appealing look towards the mistress of the house. "Whatever that lady had once acquired, however, whether promise or con- cession, she never di^eamed of giving up again, but used as a possession of her own, and a basis from ■v'i hich to start in search of further gains. "You would not object if you and ] were to lunch a littlo earlier than the rest, Edith, would you, ' inquired she, " as wo hove a good many calls to make ? " i MJi. CAMPDEN ORDERS THE BAROUCHE. 3^ " Certainly uot," said Mrs. Dalton : the earlier slie started as Bhe fondly hoped, the earlier she Avould be ijermitted to return and receive dear John's despatch. But she reckoned without her hostess. " That's right, my dear; I knew you would not mind ; and that will jast enable me to push on as far as the Park, and call on Lady Brodie, who is generally a little beyond my beat." CHAPTER V. MR. CAMPDEN ORDERS THE BAROUCHE. Thu3, therefore, it came about that, at the usual luncheon- hour, four of the breakfast-party had gone their ways, and there were gathered around the great table only the host and the three young ladies — for Jenny generally made her appearance at the mid -day meal. "N'ow, Uncle George," said Kate, merrily, "I hope you are going to be very polite indeed to us girls, because, you see, we have no other cavalier." "Don't say polite, Kitty," cried Jenny; " don't waste your V ^portunities like that; of course he'll be polite; say devoted." " My dears, I am devoted," said Uncle George ; " very much so indeed. If I can do anything to please yon, pray nientiou it." " He is a nice old papa, he really is," remarked Miss Mary, like an auctioneer who is recommending some article to an audience who have doubts. "He has done himself a mischief already, upon your account, young ladies, by eating luncheon out of courtesy ; let me tell you tltat" observed he. " Oh, papa., how can you say so, when you know mamma always cries out if you have two helps of meat, as you did to- day ; and you had bottled stout, too ! " " All for your sakes, my dears ; I felt that what Curzon calb 'support' would be necessary if I had to amuse you young people. And now I am prepared for further sacrifices. Suppose I take a glass of sherry ? " It was very unusual to see Mr. Campden in such a lively mood : he was generally as dumb as any china figure, and almost as motionless ; now be was itoore like something in gutta- percha from which a weight has been removed, and which assumes its natural shape with elasticity. It was only very Be'dom that his wife was away at meal- times. 36 FALLEN FORTUNES. " My dear papa, you will certainly go to sleep, and be of no use at all ! " "Not a bit of it ; I am all for exertion. Now suppose you and Kitty row me about on the river, and Jenny steers. ' "Ob, Uncle George, we have got blisters on our band.^ already," said Kitty, "from rowing you about; you are really very lazy." " Well, supposing you girls dress up in Eastern costume- you are fond of dressing up — and come and dance before mr. Pretend to be nautcb-gii*ls (if that is the way you pronouuc; it); and Jenny shall clap my hands together— if I like it — fo; applause." " It is a capital idea," cried Jenny. " Let us get out all ]\lrs. Campden's beautiful Indian shawls, and do the thing com- pletely." The three glials burst out laughing, partly at the audacity of this proposal, but principally at the very long face which it caused Mv. Campden to draw. '•I don't think that will quite do, my dears," said ];c. "Now, what do you say to billiards? Mary and Kate shall play, and Jenny shall mark ! and I will show liow you ought to have played when you make mistakes. That will give me a good deal to do, but I don't mind." " You are very rude. Uncle George, instead of being politq far less devoted," said Kitty. " Well, my dear, I only throw out these ideas as mere suggestions. If you arc for archery, I can pull the bow against anybody, though I can never, somehow, shoot off the arrow ; and as for croquet, there are doubtless more stupid games than croquet, though I confess I have never seen them." " But Jenny can neither shoot nor play croquet, papa," observed Mary, softly. " Oh, pray don't mind 9»e," said Jenny, with a little flush. " I shall be very happy looking on." " My dear Jenny, a thousand pardons," cried Mr. Campden, vetemently, his ruddy face becoming quite purple. " It wH^i the stout that made me so stupid. The only amends I can think of is to leave our occupation fur the afternoon entirely in your hands. Let the rest of us be Miss Jenny's slaves, and do what- ever she pleases. What do you say, girls ? " " That will be capital ! " cried Kate and Mary, simultaneously. " Do you really mean it, Uncle George ? " asked Jenny, gravely. Mli. CAMPDEN ORDERS THE BAROUCHE. 37 " Unquestionably, my dear. I feel already like Herod when he made that imprudent promise to his step-daughter — but my word is passed." " But there are so many deliciously naughty things that 1 should like to do, Uncle George," said Jenny, thoughtfully. "It has long been my desii'e to go out in the steam-yacht with a few friends who do not in the least understand the machinery, and to see what will come of it ; whether it would ever stop, or not, of itself ; and what we would do beyond making it whistle." " I am truly thankful to say," observed Mr. Campden, piously, " that there is not enough water in the river to float the steam-yacht." " So am I," cried Kate and Mary, also gratefully. It was well known to both of them that Jenny was afraid of nothing, and that hor love of danger and excitement was in inverse proportion to her feeble physical powers. "Well, then — it is a great bathos, after my steam yacht notion — but, next to that expedition, I should like us all to go ■^o Bleabarrow to see the wrestling." " Oh, how delightful ! " cried Kate. " Oh my goodness ! " ejaculated Mary, " what will mamma say ? " Mr. Campden pom^ed himself out another glass of sherry, and ran bis hands through his thin thatch of grey hair. Beneath his breath he might have been heard to murmur, " Grraeious heavens ! " but the expression of his face was pretty firm. " You think jou. would enjoy that sort of thing, Jenny ? — I mean these games ? " " I am sure I should — that is, looking on at them. I should not make much of wrestling myself, Jeff says it's a noble spectacle ; and Jeff will be there, you know, and dear Tou}^, and Mr. Holt. Fancy how sui-prised they will be to see us ! They will scarcely believe their eyes. Come, Uncle George, you'll keep your word." Mr. Campden swallowed the sherry and rang the bell, for the discussion had lasted long after luncheon was over, and the servants had retired to their own mid-day meal. "Jeff took the dog-cart," observed he, "and my wife tho pony -carriage." " Then we had better take the brougham," suggested Mary, " No, my dear ; I think the barouche would be more comfortable for all of us; and, besides, it will afford a befcto? view." 38 FALLEN FORTUNES. " Uncle George, you are thinking of vvLat will bo more ootn* fortable for me," said Jenny, softly. " Well, it would not do to foi'get you iwlce in one afternoon, my dear," was the pleasant response. " Now, go and get your things on, girls, that we may start at once; and then we can get back pretty early, you know — before your mamma comen home. John, let the barouche be at the door in twenty minutes." He had not issued such a command without consultation with that barouche's mistress, far less in direct opposition to her, for twenty years. " My dear Jenny, I am quite jealous of you," cried Mary Campden, as the girls trooped upstairs together, to attire them- selves for the anticipated treat. " I am sure no seductions of mine would ever have persuaded papa to do such a thing. Why, it quite ' partakes of the nature of a lark,' as Jeff calls it ; does it not ? " " She must have ' given him medicines,' as Falstaff says, to make dear Uncle George so complaisant," laughed Kitty ; she Avas a young lady wlio liked Shakespeare better than the musical glasses, and had a very pretty " trick of iteration." " She has certainly given him medicines." "No, my dears," said Jenny, decisively; "it was neither my charms nor my medicines — though some people do take it medicinally : we owe everything- to that second glass of sherry." CHAPTER VI. THE GUIDE UACE. " Sports," as the celebration of country games is often locally called, are for the most part, in Derbyshire, much the same as they have now become in other places — an excuse for half-a- dozen excursion trains to convey the "rough" element from the neighbouring towns, and pour it over the peaceful fields, like f-ewage, only by no means with the same beneficial results ; but at Bleabarrow this was not the case. The prizes offered for competition were too small, and the place itself too remote, to attract much public attention, so that the proceedings were of a " truly rural " and Arcadian kind. The wrestlers were not attired, as they are now often seen in the heart of Westmoreland, and even in Cumberland, in party- coloured tights and fancy jerkins, giving them the air of street ftrcrobats rather than of honest dalesmen ; no guerdon was THE GUJDE RACE. 39 offered for " the neatest Avrestling costume," but men came in their workiug-day clothes, and when they stepped into the ring, which was open to "all comers," merely threw down their coats and waistcoats, gave their old-fashioned "turnip" watches to a friend to hold, and kicked off their shoes ; then — save that when their names were called they rubbed their hands in saw- dust, so that they should not slip their "holt'^ — they were ready for the fray. Of course, there are objections to such sports in any shape, as there are to most things nowadays, thanks to the very superfine tone of our public morality ; but if the objectors never amuse themselves in a worse way, they must be what advertising tradesmen term " a selected lot." To a mere ordinary mortal, to whom a little physical rivalry seems no more hurtful than any other form of the competition system, they afford an innocent and agreeable spectacle, though the actors are, no doubt, as Mrs. Campden described them, "vulgar creatures," -whose " Sunday best " garments (if they possessed such things at all) are not much better than those that they cast upon the greensward. They are, after all, fellow-creatures, and it is not uninterest- ing to watch the play of human nature that accompanies this exhibition of thews and sinews. How anxiously, when a com- petitor's name is called, he listens for that of his rival, which, like his own, is drawn at a venture from the hat ; and how the face lights up if it is a green-hand, and grows serious if it is a veteran whose laurels are not easily aa on. To the young ones, especially, who have perhaps entered their names for the first time, this in all-important, as their highest ambition is to live into " the third round," and their hopes of it can only reasonably lie in being opposed to antagonists of their own calibre. It is very unusual, however, for anyone to give up his chance with- out a contest ; a mere stripling will do his best against the last year's " champion," and very tenderly the giant will take him up — and in most cases lay him down. But now and then there is an unexpected resistance ; the youthful aspirant is supple and quick ; or the slippery grass gives him an advantage, and when all eyes are expecting an easy victory, the giant falls undermost instead of the pigmy. Then a shout of " Bonny lile one " (for little one) breaks forth from the assemblage, that startles the buzzard on the peaks of Bleabarrow ; and some- times a village maiden (his betrothed) will permit herself (for I have seen her do it) to be so far carried away by a natural pnthusiq^sra ^s to give the " lile one " another sort of hug thj»» 40 FALLEN FORTUNES. that wbicli lie has jasfc oxperienced, to the admiration of all beholders. No one " bites the dusi" in the Homeric way — in fact, '.hero is noue to bite, save what the combatants take up in their hands — and the danger, save of a " ricked " back or a sprained ankle, is slight indeed ; but the strain, and the tug, and the tussle — every muscle at its fullest stretch, the legs vibrating, yet stiff as nails, the heart beating at highest pressure, the breath coming in sobs and gasps — are grand, to see, and afford the elements of an epic. The spectacle of it all entranced young Tony to a degree not attained even at the Christmas pantomimes in London, with which he had been familiar fx'om very early years ; for here all was reality ; and if there were no splendours in the way of glare and glitter, yet the amphitheatre of sky-piercing crags in which the sports were held had a certain majesty even for his boyish eye, while every point in the proceedings was made plain to him by Jeff (who had them at his fingers' ends), an advantage which in the case of the pantomimes was often denied to him, the explanation thereof being beyond the wit of man. If the two youths were thus wrapt up in the combatants of the ring, their elder companion was equally preoccupied in another fashion : his face indeed was fixed upon the wrestlers, but his mind was busy with the contents of those two little notes we have seen him receive that morning ; his thoughts, sot in motion by the one, crossed the far-stretching seas, and lighted upon a certain valley, shadowed by a mightier hill than any now beheld by his physical eyes, and canopied by a more cloudless sky ; the scenery was that of the ti'opics, but the skilled hand of the mechanic had been at work therein, and had compelled the mountain-stream to do his bidding; there were water-wheeled stamping mills, such as are used in Cornwall, and all the apparatus employed in mining enterprises ; as Holt beheld it, the mill-wheels were still turning, and the huge hammers at work upon the spalling floors, because he was but recalling a picture that had once actually presented itself to his vision ; but he knew that no such busy scene was in truth beiiig enacted in that far-off valley, since the Lara Mine had failed to produce its yield of gold. From Brazil his thoughts would leap to Bampton — for there was a connection between those distant spots — where they could make no such picture for him, because he had no personal acquaintance with the place, but wandered vaguely ovey booths and hujitjugs, aad ri]R GUIDE RACE. 41 ercited mobs of men' — sncli as be bad seen elsewhere at election times. " The two blows togetber will bave a crusbing force," tnur- niui-ed be, not witbout a toucb of pity ; " but be cannoi blame me for eitber." Tbus it happened tbat tbe first contingent from Riverside Hall bad their attention so engrossed tbat they never noticed tbe arrival of tbe second in the neighbourhood of the riug^ where, indeed, as it bad seemed that morning, they would have been as likely to put in an appearance as tbe bishop of the diocese to be seen at a man-and-dog-fight. Moreover, there were other carriages present, and some with ladies in them — for the local gentry and their wives were not all so exclusive in their views as Mrs. Campden — so that the barouche was no very conspicuous object. Mary and Kate enjoyed exceedingly the notion of watching Jeff, and Tony, and Mr. Holt, as they sat, all unconscious of their pi'esence, in the very primitive grand-stand — a bank of rough seats, witli a slanting roof of wood — which was the place of honour; but. Jenny's whole attention was directed to tbe sports. For her (as she lay propped upon soft cushions, yet even then not wholly free from pain) the feats of strength and agility of which she was a witness had a marvellous charm. She was not frightened, as her sister and cousin were, at the crisis of each combat, when one put out his strength to overcome the other, and to bear him to the earth ; and when the victoiy was achieved, and Kate would cry, " Poor fellow ! how hard lie struggled," in pity for the vanquished, Jenny's tiny palms were doing their best to swell the triumph of the conqueror. As for Uncle Geox-ge, his principal occupation was to consult bis watch, and calculate bow far by this time his wife bad probably progressed upon her "calls," and bow much, there- fore, of mai'gin there was left for them to go home in, and still anticipate her return. Presently, a short stout gentleman rode up to the side of tbe carriage upon a pony, and addressed the party en hloc. " Well, I never ! Who woitld have thought of seeing yoxi here? I am sure the sport committee ought to fcei flattei-ed. How did you get leave, young ladies ? " "We did not get leave. Dr. Curzon," laughed Mary. " Mamma had gone out for a drive " " Oh, I see ; when the cat's away — I mean — ahem ! " and the fat little d.QCtqr rubbed his nose, which was enormous, and shot 42 1^ ALLEN FORTUNES. out of liis bright black eyes a glance of sly significance at Mr. Campden. "Well, I thought there could be no possible harm in bring- ing the girls," observed that gentleman, apologetically. " Wc Avere only driving by — you see the horses have not even been taken out — and just looked in for a few " (he was going to say "minutes," for the fact is the whole speech was but the rehearsal of what he intended to say, when the time arrived, to Mrs. Campden herself. He would never have the courage, ho felt, now that the effects of the stout and sherry had evaporated from his brain, to own the whole truth) — ■ But luckily at that moment a great shout arose over some ])rustrate wrestler, and spared him further hun:i.iliation by attracting his interlocutor's attention. " Capital fall, by jingo !" cried the doctor; "and how long it lasted after they got hold ! You were timing it, I see." "Two hours and a half," said Mr. Campden, gravely, " ox* perhaps even three." " My dear sir, it was not three minutes. What are you thiinking of P " "To be sure, to be siire. I meant three minutes," stammered the squire, for such he loved to be called by his Bleabarrow neighbours. "A very pretty fall, indeed." He had been thinking of the " margin " so exclusively that he had not even xioticed the contest was decided. " Have you seen our young friends yonder, and Mr. Holt ? " " ISTot 1. I am on my rounds, my good sir — professional duty ; only, as I was passing by, I thought I'd jnst look in — liivc you — upon these wrestling fellows. I did not expect to find my pa,:ient here ; " and he turned to Jenny with a look the tenderness of which redeemed his monstrous nose and purple face, and made him almost handsome. It was a face of great intelligence, notwithstanding its colour — which was solely owing to the inclemencies of the weather, to which his practice exposed him ; and among the many advantageous surroundings among which Mr. Campden's lines had fallen, that gentleman justly counted it not the least that Dr. Curzon was his neighbour. One of the greatest drawbacks of a country life is inaccessibility to medical aid, and also the inferior description of that assistance when it is pi'ocured ; but in Dr. Curzon the tenants of Riverside Hail had a doctor in whom they could have confidence, at their very doers — that is to say, but half-a-dozen miles away by road ; and only h£^^ THE GUIDE RACE. 43 that distance if you crossed the river and climbeil tlie crags, and so dropped down upon the doctor's cottage in Sanbeck Valley. He was welcome everywhere, not only by tba sick-bed, but at the dinner table of those whose state of health never required his professional presence ; and nobody that Avas not quite a new- comer in the neighbourhood would have dreamed of saying that it was "only the doctor" w^hen his staunch little pony, with its heavy burden, came trotting up their carriage-sweep. " Suppose we say, Uncle George, that you brought me here to see the doctor!" cried Jenny, naively — " to meet him by appointment at the sports ! When the people are not looking, I will show him my tongue, and he shall prescribe for me. Then it will be all right, you know, and no story," "I don't think that will do," observed Mr. Campdcn, doubt- fully. " No, no ! we were just driving out, and looked in ; which is, after all, pretty much what happened. There is no occasion to go beyond that. And I really think, my dears, that we had better be turning home." " But, Uncle George, there's the Guide Race," expostulated Jenny; "you will surely not take us away before we have seen that?" " The Guide Race ! " replied Mr. Campden, mechanically, as lie fingered his repeater. " What is that ? " " Why, squire, you ought to know," put in Dr. Curzon ; " it's a thing that we are very proud of in this country, because we flatter ourselves it assimilates us to the mountain districts. It makes old Bleabarrow hold its head up to think that it could possibly require the services of a guide, like Helvellyn or Sea Fell. It is but 900 feet, yet it is a stiff climb to that pilo of stones yonder ; and I doubt whether any of these youno- fellows will do it in — what shall we say ? " Mr. Campden's lips were following the strokes of his repeater, which was talking in his waistcoat-pocket in obedience to its pressure on its handle. " One — two — three — four — aye, and a «]|uarter of an hour," he answered, nervously. " I'll bet you a shilling they don't do it under the five-and- twenty minutes," replied the little doctor. " It has never been done under twenty-five since Longstreet's time, the very neatest cragsman of his time ; and the heat to-day is something Why, what's the matter, Miss Kate? They're peeling for tho pace, that's all ! it's not a fight." ^•Yes; but look— ?oo/l-— there's Jeff amongst them. Jeft'9 ^4 FALLEA' FOR TUXES. gv.in^,' to riui. Ho-.v very angry ]\Irs. Campdcn ^ill Lc ^>ith him ! " " Poob, pooli ! " answered the doctor, sharply ; "let L<->r be &.nfrry — I mean she bas no right to be anything of the sort. "Wi:y, it is very creditable to the young fellow to show such pluck ; and I hope he won't be the last in." '• Ob, papa ! " cried Mary, " do you see what Gooffrcy js doing ? " " I see he's taking oFi^ bis coat and waistcoat ; and I should like to do the same," said Mr. Campdeu. "' I would take (^fF ]iiy flesh, and sit in my bones,' as somebody says, ' this weather, if the arrangements of nature permitted of it.' " "But he is going to mn, papa." "Ah, there I think he's a fool, Polly ; I wouldn't run." " But be is going to join in the Guide Race n^^ the hill — to run for money." ".He is not, Mary," cried Kate decisively, "I am qaito certain that JefF would not do that. The race is open to every- l)ody, and he wishes to try his speed against the others, that's all. You don't suppose he would take any of the prizes, evci' if he won them, away from these poor people ? " "At all events, I am sure mamma will be exceedingly put out," said Mary ; " but, of course, if papa has no objection " " Eh, ah ! " said Mr. Campden, who had once more abandoned himself to his appi'cheusions. "What is that you are saying about your mother ? What the deuce is the matter now ? " " Nothing is the matter. Uncle George, except that I want your arm," said Jenny, gaily. " I vnist stand up to see this, and you know I can't do that without your help. There's a dear good uncle ; and now don't you move one inch till all is over. There are six of them, and Geoifrey makes the seventh. Now I call this delightf ah There's our dear friend, Mr. Holt — how I should like to see him run up the cmgs — and Tony looking at Jeff as though he were a demi-god." "And, upon my life, he looks like one," cried Dr. Curzon, admiringly. " Step on the seat, my dear Miss Kitty, and lean on me ; the pony will stand quite still, for he has been used to be shot over, though not by such bright eyes as yours. Now, I call that the model of a young fellow. Who is that he has just given his watch to, to take care of ? I hope he's an honest man." " My dear Dr. Curzon," said Mary, yeprovingly, " that is Mr. Holt; a friend of papa's, or rather of Mr, Da.lton's. Did yoij wot eoe him at the chai'ados laf^t night f THE GUIDE nACE: 43 " I daresay I might have seen him, Miss Mary, hut I did ixtt notice him. The fact is, my attention was wholly monopolised by a couple of pretty housemaids; the fairest, fiirtiest little- ■ — I!n^ow, don't you push me off the pony. Mr. Campden, I a\ ish you'd speak to these two girls." '• Speak ! you might as well speak to the winds," answered the squire, his large arm enfolding Jenny's waisu with clumsy tenderness. "Gad! you don't mean to say, doctor, they're going straight up yonder, between those flags? Why, at ihio distance, it seems almost perpendicular I " " Seems ? nay, it is" exclaimed the doctor, " as you shall >!.r. Here's an opera-glass, which I brought for the very purpose ; and if Miss Jenny will honour me by using it ■ We'll call it a stethoscope at home, if yon please: the doctor brought Li.-5 stethoscope to the sports, as agreed upon. Eh, squire ? " " Yes ; it is all very well for old bachelors to joke about other people's wives," grunted Mr. Campden ; " but, by Jove ! if you had married Julia, and had taken her barouuhe to a prize-fight — that's what she supposes this sort of thing to be — you'd be as glad of an excuse as I am. Thank goodness, they're starting at last. You don't care to see more than the start, do you, girls ?" "Uncle George!" cried Jenny, earnestly, "I ■must .jse this race out ; I never felt so excited in my life." *' Which must be very bad for you, my dear Jenny." " Not a bit of it," said the doctor; "it w^ill do her all the good in the world. Guide races are recommended by the faculty for her particular complaint, Avhich, as you see, is mostly ' temper.'" " He's over the wall ! " cried Kitty, enthusiastically. '* Like a bird," ejaculated the doctor. " If it was ' Fire ! " they could not have done it quicker — the whole seven — nor have had much less on them," added he, -sotto voce. " By jingo ! but they're close together ; you could cover theia with a handkerchief ! " cried the squire, roused to u.nwonted interest in the proceedings. " There, now they're scattering a bit. Now the pace begins to tell, and the amateur to succumb to the professional. It's a case of ' bellows to mend,' I fer.r, with Master Jetf." " Not a bit of it," answered the doctor, indignantly ; " he in only going round the wood instead of through it, which is the quicker way, although the longei". See; two of them have followed his lead. Jeft' has got good wits as well as good wiuii, let m« tell you." 46 FALLEN- FORTUNES. Kitty's little hand was leaning on ihe doctor's slionlder, tliougli lip to this point he had scarcely been atvare of it; and now be felfc it lean hard. She -vvas thanking bi i-. by tbat silent pressure for his defence of ber favourite. Tbe scene bad now become very exciting. Tie seven com- petitors bad already reached tbe bigb ground, yet did not in tbe least relax their speed ; a tbicket of briisbwood immediately intervened, into Avhicb four plunged, wbose beads and sboulders could be seen making way tbrougb it, at a diminisbed rate ; tbe three others ran round, and Avere first upon the otber side, the young blacksmitbof Sanbeck leading ; then Jeff; then a certain gamekeeper, said to be able to tire out any sportsman upon moor or fell. Dr. Curzon gave a sbort biograpby of eacb of tbe balf-dozen champions, Avith wbose career be was perfectly familiar. " I shall be able to certify tbat Master Jeff's rivals Avere all emi- nently respectable members of society," concluded be, slily, iu Mr. Campden's ear. " Tusb ! " said the squire ; " let me enjoy tbe race." When tbe first climbers got to tbe steep rocks between tbo flags, tbey bad become to tbe naked eye little more tban niovinj.^ specks ; and Jenny alone could make tbem clearly out by belfj. of tbe glass. "Tbe blacksmith is still ahead," said she; "and Jeff is shoulder to shoulder Avith the other man. What did you call him, doctor ? " "Well, I saidheAvas a gamekeeper ; between ourselves, Miss Jenny" (this he Avbispered), "he's a poacher." "He's an uncommonly good climber, at all events," said Jenny, admiringly, " But Jeff goes like a chamois too." " Let me have the glass a moment," said Kitty, softly. Her heart was beating almost as quickly as poor Jeff's, Avho Avas doing a very nasty bit of crag- work ; it looked as steep as a wall, even to ber — to the others it Avas like a Avindow-pane Avith three flies upon it. Not a hundred feet above it Avas a pile of stones — marking tbe summit of the hill — which eacb bad to round before beginning tbe race home. She bad gazed upon it from her own room at the Hall a hundred times, but hence- forward it Avould have a personal interest for ber. What endurance, what fatigue, Avas he not undergoing ! Matched against grown men like these, and all (as she Avell kncAv, in spite of Mary's ill-natured remarks) for the honour of tbe thing ; for cbei'e tvas honour in it, " He's doAvn ! " exclaimed she, eagerly. •' Who's down ? Not Jefi"! " cried Jenny. THE GVWE race: 47 "Jeff? ^N'o ! '' rcfcurnecT Kittj, contcjr.ptiiotisly ; "it's tto blacksmitli.'' " Poor fellow ! " said Mary ; " lie has not Imrt himself, i hope." " You had better go up and see," said Jenny, rather rudely, " for my part, I should like them all to slip except Jeff." " Oh, so would I," said Mary, " so far as that goes." "That is the true female view of justice," chuckled the doctor. " As for you, Kitty, you would like them all to have apoplectic fits, would you not .? " "No, sir; I should like Jeff to win, but to do it fairly." The doctor patted approvingly the hand that rested on his shoulder ; forgetting that Kitty had quitted her hold to take possession of the glass. " You need not squeeze ?»// fingers, Dr. Curzon," said Marj^ comprehending his error. " You need not talk about it, my dear, if I did," answered th« doctor, iraperturbably ; he had been nearly half a century in practice as a medical man, and was not easily j^ut out by a mistake. " He is round the stones," exclaimed Kitty ; "both of them. Now they are coming to the steep place again — oh, surely they won't run down iliat. I cannot look at them." " Give me the glass," cried Jenny, importunately. It was popularly understood that she was " all nerves," but her hand was steady enough as she brought the instrument to bear upon the returning athletes. " Jeff and the gamekeeper are far ahead," said she; " they are coming like the wind. Weil done I Oh, I wish I was a mau like you. Uncle George, that I could add, ' By jingo ! ' " "Why, what's the matter, lass ? " asked the squire. "Jeff has just jumped a boulder like a deer: they are leap- ing from stone to stone,. as the water comes down the fall in wet weather. I would rather be able to leap like that than anything in the world.' The doctor pursed his hps, and gave a little sigh, but Jenny neither saw nor heard him. " If nothing happens, one of these two will win. Think of that, Kitty ; Jeff will be second, at all events. Oh dear, oh dear ! they cannot stop themselves." "Good heavens! what has happened?" cried the squire. Kitt;^ did not speak, but the doctor felt both her hands suddenly elutch his shoulder. 48 FALLEN PORTVNtS. " Wlij, they'll Lave to go tkrougli the wood iustead of round it." " Is that all ? You gave me such a turn,'** said Maiy, pettishly. " That is just what they could not give themselves" said Kitty: "they are coming right through the copse instead of round it.'* " They are wise," said the doctor ; " they have the Yo'^'^^ ^^'i^i^ them this journey. By Jove ! it's a fine race." By this time the two leading figures were Avell in sight, and a mighty cheer burst from the excited throng of spectators, as now the one and now the other seemed to have a few feot of vantage, A stone wall lay before them, then a piece of slanting tiu'f, below which was a gully, into which both had descended on their way up — it being of course impossible to clear it from that direction. After that was the " run in " over a level grass- field with another stone wall at the finish. Both topped the first wall at the same instant, and then the gamekeeper began to lead : it was plain that, though not more agile among the crags, ho was a trifle more speedy on the turf than his younger com- petitor. He Avould certainly be first at the gap that led down 'nto the gully, and consequently first out of it, after which, barring accidents, the race would be his. The party from the Hall could discern this as clearly as the umpire himself, and a gloom fell upon them accordingly. A roar of exultation suddenly arose. " By gad ! Jeff's going to jump it," cried the squire, excitedly. " He's going to trij it," murmiircd the doctor, mechanically putting his hand to his pocket, to feci if his case of instruments was in its accustomed place. " He'll break his logs, if not iiin neck." Jeff's plan was indeed a desperate one. Finding himself onf - paced by his rival, he had avoided the gap altogether, and was making straight for the gully at its highest point, intending to treat it as a ditch. If he cleared it, he would not only save somethiiig of the distance, but all the time which the other would consume in descending and ascending. But if he did nuf, clear it, there would be twenty feet of fall upon a stony bottom — the bed, in fact, of a dry torrent. On he came like a race-horse ; there was no time to pulJ biinself together, nor even " to think about it" (as Jeff himself afterwards allowed, in depreciation of his own feat) ; and the aext instant, that apprehensive " Ah-h-h-h ! " arose from the jpectators, such as salutes all " deeds of derring-do " while m M-AKLYG THE BEST OF IT. 49 progress, followed instantaneously by the shout which proclaims success. JetF had lighted upon the tips of his toes at the very verge of the chasm ; there was not an inch of margin ; but he had done it ; and now he was half-way across the field before his rival had emerged from the gully. " Oh, JefF, dear Jeff", I never liked you sm much before ! " cried Jenny, her frail limbs "all of a tremble," and the tears running down her cheeks like rain, " Was it not plucky of him, Kitty ? " But Kitty could not have spoken had she been offered, like " Conversation" Coleridge, half-a-crown for every word. Her face Avas white, and her eyes seemed to start forth to meet the victorious boy, as he climbed over the last stone wall, not so lightly as he had crossed it last — but yet without signs of positive distress — and ran in to the goal the winner by half-a- dozen seconds. " Back, back ! " cried the doctor, riding in among the people that were pressing around the lad and cheering him vociferously. " Give him room and air." Then presently he reappeared at the side of the barouche. "The boy is well enough, but awfully 'pumped' and ex- hausted. It is my opinion" — and when the doctor used that form of words, he meant what he said — " that he would be none the better for receiving your congratulations just at pre- sent, young ladies. He does not even know you're here, you see " " Ay, then we had better be off before he finds it out," put in the squire, eagerly. "Then we shall get nicely home before — that is, in time to receive your mother, Mary." CHAPTER VII. . MAKIXG THE BEST OF IT. " Some one has been to call," observed Mrs. Campden to her companion, as, driving up the carriage-sweep within an hour or so of dinner-time, her sharp eyes remarked the recent traces of wheel and hoof. " I should not wonder if it was Lady Blanche Ealing." " Mr. Holt and the boys were going to the sports, were they not ? " returned Mrs. Dalton, not, it must be confessed, with any signs of overpowering interest in the question ; for the last two hours her thoughts had been at home — watching for her husband's telegram ; and neither the calls, nor her companion's 50 FAL LEN FOR TUNES. conversation, had been able to secure the attention wbicb she v.onld fain have given to them, "My dear Edith " — she spoke with an emphasis dictated by a due sense of the fitness of things — " you don't suppose I should Lave sent out anything but the dog-cart with that Mr. Holt ? There has been a pair of horses here — look at the hoof-marks. It is very annoying if it has been Lady Blanche, for that will l)c the second time I have missed her. Such a charming person ; •(he Earl of Beefampton's daughter, and, socially speaking, the lady of this part of the county. Who has called, Marks ? " asked she of the butler, who received them at the hall door. " No one, ma'am — leastways, Mr. Dimple came on some business about the church-sittings ; but it would do just as well, I was to say, with his compliments, another day." "But some carriage has been here, besides the dog-cart." " Oh, yes, ma'am; the barouche. Master took out the young ladies in it." " Is there any message forme, Marks ? " inquired Mrs. Dalton, unable any longer to bear her suspense, though unwilling enough to interrupt the inquiries of her hostess. " Yes, ma'am ; a telegram : Miss Jenny has it." The invalid girl had been for so many years a child-guest at Riverside, that in old Marks' eyes she was still Miss Jenny, and would probably remain so for ever. " She is up in her own room, I think, ma'am." Mrs. Dalton flew upstairs to the apartment thus indicated, where she found Jenny upon her spring-couch — the unwonted fatigues of the day having somewhat exhausted her frail frame. " Oh, mamma ! there is a telegram from papa." " What is it, child ? " inquired her mother, anxiously. Jenny put the slip of paper in her hand without speaking. " SliaU come hy the 6.30 train, as proposed. Nomp." " Why, what does he mean by Nomp ?" " I am afraid it means he is not elected : he wished us to understand, without telling others, that he was no M.P. ; at least, that is what I make it out to be." " Dear, dear ! " sighed Mrs. Dalton. " I am very sorry, upon papa's account, mamma, because I am afraid he will be disappointed ; but except for that — you know we have often agreed that he will be happier as he is." Mrs. Dalton did not reply, but withdrew at once to her own room. There was somethinir in the bareness of the communica^ MAKING THE BES7 OF IT. 5 1 tion she had just received — though telegrams are not expected to be effusive — that chilled her, and seemed to give an additional seriousness to the missive of the morning. The latter had enjoined silence upon her as regarded her husband's pntici,pa- tions of the election, and even now that it was over he Beemed to have a disinclination to make known the result. What did this reticence augur in one who had been wont — until of lato months — to be the most frank and demonstrative of men ? Ir, was true that he had given utterance to no expression of annoy- ance, but the brevity of his message spoke to her, in language ihat she alone understood, of the chagrin and bitterness t