MHKHI I 91 9HHI A NOBLE LORD. THE SEQUEL TO "THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW." BY , EMMA D. E. N, SOUTHWORTIL AUTHOR OP "FAIR PLAY," "now HE WON HER," "CFIAXHED BRIDES," "BRIDE'S FATE,' "CRUEL AS THE GRAVE," "TRIED FOR HER LIFE," "RETRIBUTION," "THE LOST HEIRESS," "FORTUNE SEEKER," "DESERTED WIFE," ETC. The monarch mind, the mystery of commanding, The birth hour gift, the art Napole&iie, Of winning, fettering, moulding, wielding, bunding The hearts of millions, till they nmve as one. FITZ-GREENE UALLECK. PHILADELPHIA: T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 306 CHESTNUT STREET. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1572, by T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. MRS. EMMA D, E, N. SOUTHWORTH'S WORKS. Each Work is complete in one large duodecimo volume. A NOBLE LORD. Sequel to " The Lo-t Heir of Linlit!iyw." THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW. THE FAMILY DOOM; or, THE SI A OF A COUNTESS. THE MAIDEN WIDO W. Sequel to " The Family Doom." CRUEL AS THE GRAVE. THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS. THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. THE DESERTED WIFE. THE CHANGED BRIDES. THE BRIDE'S FATE. SEQUEL TO CHANGED BRIDES. TRIED FOR HER LIFE. A Sequel to "Cruel as the Grave." THE BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN. THE GIPSY'S PROPHECY. THE FORTUNE SEEKER. THE LOST HEIRESS. THE CHRISTMAS GUEST. THE BRIDAL EVE. THE THREE BEAUTIES. FAIR PLAY; OR, THE TEST OF THE LONE ISLE. HOW HE WON HER. A SEQUEL TO FAIR PLAY. THE FATAL MARRIAGE. THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. LOVE'S LABOR WON. THE MISSING BRIDE. LADY OF THE ISLE. THE WIFE'S VICTORY. THE TWO SISTERS. FALLEN PRIDE; OR, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL'S LOVE. INDIA; OR, THE PEARL OF PEARL HIVE II. VI VI A; OR, THE SECRET OF POWER. THE CURSE OF CLIFTON. THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER. THE WIDOW'S SON. ALL WOR TH A IS III-: Y. RETRIBUTION. Price of each, $1.75 in Cloth ; or 31.50 in Paper Cover. Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of any or all of the above books will be sent to any one, to any place, postage pre-paid, on receipt of their price by the Publishers, T. B. PETERSOX & BROTHERS, 306 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA. CONTENTS. Chapter Page i. BENNY'S HAVEN 21 II. ARIELLE 30 in. POOR BENNY'S PURGATORY 37 iv. BENNY'S BURDEN TOO HEAVY TO BE BOKNE.. 47 V. THE BURG LARY 54 VI. THE NIGHT ALARM AT WOODBINE COTTAGE... 63 VII. THE DETECTIVE 72 VIII. THE DUEL. 82 IX. AFTER TIIK FATAL DUEL 03 X. BAD NEWS AT CHARLES STREET 101 XL HOW BENNY WAS BETRAYED 116 XII. HOW BENNY WAS COMMITTED FOR TRIAL 125 XIII. THE LITTLE PRISONER 133 XIV. THE LITTLE OUTCAST IN PRISON 145 xv. BENNY'S FATE 152 xvi. BENNY'S STRUGGLE 102 XVII. TRIUMPHS OF TIME THE YOUNG PRIMA DONNA. 171 XVIII. THE PRIMA DONNA AND TUB RETURNED CON- VICT 182 XIX. TWO FATES 191 xx. BENJAMIN'S STORY 197 (10) 20 CONTENTS. Chapter Page XXI. THE TWO < 209 XXII. THE OUTCAST IN SEAKCH OF HIS PEDIGREE... 219 XXIII. MISTKESS AND MAN 228 XXIV. THE LITTLE SUPPER 236 xxv. THE EARL'S LOVE 245 XXVI. THE BROTHERS FACE TO FACE 253 xxvii. THE OUTCAST'S LOVE 259 xxviii. THE OUTCAST'S LAST OFFERING 272 XXIX. LOVE'S MARTYRDOM 276 XXX. WHAT THE SACRIFICE COST 289 XXXI. THE LOST STAR 297 XXXII. FETTERED LOVE 306 XXXIII. COUNSEL AND CLIENT 317 XXXIV. STARTLING NEWS 328 xxxv. BENJAMIN'S NEW NAME 335 XXXVI. TO THE WAR ! 347 XXXVII. LOVE'S MISTAKES 353 xxxviii. BENNY'S RISE 3(51 XXXIX. VICTORY AND DEATH 3G8 XL. PROOFS 380 XLI. AT SETON ON THE LOCH 390 XLII. NEWS OF SUZY 300 XLIII. NEWS FOR THE DUKE AND DUCHKSS 402 XLIV. "PASS TNG THE LOVE OF WOMAN." 410 XLV. VICTORY OF LOVE 417 A NOBLE LORD. CHAPTER I. BENNY'S HAVEN. It is a home to die for, as it stands Through its vine foliage, sending forth a sound Of mirthful childhood o'er the green repose And laughing sunshine of the pastures round. FELICIA HEMANS. " WHY, what a pretty boy ! But surely, Charlie, dear, you never got this boy out of the work-house !" exclaimed Mrs. Faulkner, half in admiration, half in pity, as she gazed at Benny. " Well, 1 did, then, and I have got him regularly inden- tured to me," answered the Captain, drawing a document from his pocket and holding it up before his wife. "But then this fair, refined looking lad! He never could have belonged to the working classes ! And I'm sure he'll never do for a servant," said Molly. The Captain shrugged his shoulders. " It is hard telling where such children come from. I like him all the better for his good looks. And as to his never doing for a servant, we'll see that." " But what odd clothes he has got on ! " "It is the work-house uniform ; but we'll change all that to-morrow, and put him into a page's livery army blue, with brass buttons. Eh, my lad ! wouldn't you like a dress (21) 22 A NOBLE LORD. of that sort?" inquired the Captain good-naturedly, turn- ing to his new servant. "Oh, yes, sir, please !" eagerly answered Benny, smiling all over his face, and gazing around upon the prettiest room he ever was in in his life, except the grand drawing-room at Brunswick Terrace, Brighton. " You must look straight at me when I speak to you, Benjamin ; do you hear '/ " said the Captain. " Yes, sir," said the boy. " Is his name Benjamin ?" inquired Molty. " Yes, Benjamin Hurst. And he is bound to me until he is eighteen years old," replied Captain Faulkner. " He is too delicate to make a good servant. You'll repent your bargain," persisted Molly. "We'll see! Benjamin, can you wait at table?" in- quired the Captain. " Yes, sir," answered the boy, " Did you ever do it ?" inquired Mrs. Faulkner. "No, missus; but I know I could," said the boy, still letting his eyes wander around the charming room. "Bravo!" exclaimed the Captain, approvingly. "Are you an orphan, Benjamin?" kindly inquired the lady. The boy's fair face clouded over. " No, missus," he answered sadly. "Well, then, where are your parents?" The boy hesitated for a moment and then answered : " Mother's in the 'sylum and father's ruiincd away ; " and as he spoke, the tears filled his eyes. " Poor fellow ! Well, never mind. You will be happy with us here," said Moll} 7 , pitifully. " If you do 3'our duty," added the Captain. " Now come in to supper, Charley," said Molly, rising to lead the way into the neat dining-room. "And you come too, my lad, and lake your first lesson in waiting," said Captain Faulkner. BENNY'S HAVEN. 23 And the husband and wife went and sat down to the well-spread table, and Benny stood waiting, attentive, eager, anxious to be useful. With his quick intelligence and ready obedience he easily learned his duties, and completely satisfied his new master and mistress. When supper was over, Mrs. Faulkner rang for the cook, and told her to take the new boy into the kitchen and give him his supper, and then to make a bed for him in the loft over the scullery. "Aud mind," said the cook, as she took him away, " after this yer to clear off the table as well as wait on it." " Yes'm," answered Benny, cheerfully. "And you must be up early in the morning, and come down here and make the fire for me against I get up," con- tinued the cook, who seemed to think the boy was taken into the house only for her benefit. But Benny willingly agreed to all her requirements, for he was pleased with his new master and mistress, pleased with the cottage and the country, and pleased with his own prospects. And when he had had a good supper and found himself in his bed, in a clean, bare, well-ventilated loft, he could not go to bleep for thinking how prosperous and happy he was. He had always been anxious to be a " good boy." He had often run great risks to " hook " groceries, or fruit, or anything for his friends, because they would reward him by calling him a " good boy," and he would believe them. And now, lying on his bed, he aspired to deserve his prosperity and happiness by being a very good boy, yes, the very best of boys ! And he resolved to rise very early in the morning to perform his duties. Poor fellow ! Proper teachers might have make a good and useful man of him, but would Captain Faulkuer, the ruined gainuster, be the proper teacher ? We shall see. Z4 A NOBLE LORD. Ah ! well, there are hundreds of thousands of boys and girls as well meaning, as badly trained as Benny Hurst. I take him as an example only because I knew him. Legislators spare hundreds from the saving of the inno- cents, and then have to spend millions in the punishment of the criminals that neglect has left them to become ! Even an old wife's proverb might teach them better economy : "An ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure." But to return to Benny, who, in his weary pilgrimage through the desert of this world, had just now come upon an oasis. Benny, having charged himself to do so, awoke early in the morning, and went down into the kitchen and made up the fire for the cook. And then, as no one in the house was stirring, and as he did not know what else to do with himself, he went out into the garden. It was midsummer. There were green trees and shrubs and grass, and ripe fruit and bright flowers, and a soft blue sky, and a pure, fresh atmosphere. " This was Heaven ! Yes, surely this was Heaven ! " he mused. Benny had never in his life seen the country in the summer! No wonder he thought it was Heaven. Presently the children, up long before their parents, ran out into the garden, and seeing the young stranger, gath- ered around him with child-like friendliness, and asked him what was his name, and where he was from, and whether he wouldn't like to see the bee-hive and the hen-roost. And Benny, charmed with the beauty and brightness and kindliness of his little friends, told them that he was the new boy, and meant to do his best. And then Charlej' would have taken him off to look at the duck pond, only that the shrill voice of the cook was heard, loudly calling to Benny to come into the house and learn to lay the cloth for breakfast. B EN NY'S H A YEN. 25 And Benny, though loath to leave his little friends, ran. eagerly into the house to do as he was bid. That day Benny was put into his new page's livery a dark blue jacket and trowsers, with three rows of buttons on the breast of the jacket. And a very pretty page he made, fit for any lady's boudoir. And that day Captain Faulkner, Mrs. Faulkner and the cook alternately gave Benny instructions in his new duties, which, to the lad's wondering mind, seemed utterly incon- sistent with and contradictory to each other. For instance, Mrs. Faulkner said to him : "And above all things, Benjamin, remember this: that whatever you do, you must always tell the truth." " Yes, missus," answered the boy. " And never, never, XEVER tell a lie." " No, missus." And a little later in the day Captain Faulkner said to him : " It will be your duty, Benjamin, to attend the door bell. And when any one asks if I am at home you must say that you don't know, but that you'll go and see. Do you under- stand?" " Yes, sir ; but must I say it when J know you be at home ? " inquired Benny. " Certainly, you blockhead ! You must literally obey my orders, and say that you don't know whether I'm at homo or not ; but you'll come and see. And then come straight to me for further orders." " Yes, sir." " You understand now ? " " Oh, yes, sir." In the afternoon Mrs. Faulkner said to him : ' Benny, you must be honest, you know." " Yes, missus." " And never take even so much as a pin that don't belong to you." 26 A N O 15 L E L O R D. "No, missus." lu the evening, while he sat by the kitchen window with the cook, that worthy woman said to him : "And long as you tend on the house, boy, and see any little thing laying around loose like, such as a spool o' cot- ton, or a paper o' needles, or any trifle, you pick it right up, and bring it to me to put away, you know, Benny, and then I'll give you a hot cake when I bake, and you needn't say nothing about it to nobody; do you hear, boy? " < Yes'm." " That's a good boy." Benny went up to his cool loft that night feeling very much confused with all these contradictory orders. But having also much pleasanter things to think of, in the chil- dren and the garden, and all the new charms of his present life, he quickly ceased to trouble himself in the vain attempt to reconcile inconsistencies. He was very happy in his new situation ; there was not a good thing in it that he did not keenly appreciate : his own clean clothes and airy lodging and good food, and the pretty cottage and fruitful garden and pleasant country, and the good-humored master and mistress and the friendly chil- dren ! And he firmly resolved to deserve his good luck by being the very best of boys. And by way of keeping this resolution, he lied boldly whenever Captain Faulkner ordered him to do so. Captain Faulkner had contracted some new debts in the neighborhood where he now lived, and he did not mean to pay them. The gallant Captain was in the habit of con- tracting debts, and not in the habit of paying them. And now he made Benny deny him to every man who came to the house with a bill. " Here comes another one up the lane, boy. Go to the dour, and tell him I'm not home. Tell him I'm at the sea- BENNY'S HAVEN. 27 side, and won't be home for a month," said the Captain one morning, as, looking through his bed-room window, he saw the approach of a dun. Benny went down and opened the door to the unwelcome visitor, when the following colloquy ensued : " I wish to see the Captain," said the visitor. " He an't home, sir," replied Benny boldly. " An't home ! Are you sure ? " " Oh, yes, sir ; certain sure. The Capting, sir, have gone down to the seaside, sir, which the doctor ordered of him there for his 'ealth, sir," answered Benny, improving upon the story that had been put in his mouth. " At the seaside is he ? " repeated the visitor incredu- lously. " Oh, yes, sir ; and won't be home for a month, sir, which the doctor ordered, fearing of gonstumption." " Consumption ! Yes ; he looked like consumption of beef and beer ! when I saw him at the window as I came up the lane ! " said the visitor, with an incredulous laugh. Benny was "taken aback" for a moment, but being a sharp boy, he soon recovered his self-possession and in- quired : " Did you mean the gemman as was a tying of his kervat at the windy up there, sir ? " " Of course I did. I saw him plain enough." " Lor' bless you, sir ! that were masters brother, sir, as is the very moral of 'iin, sir ; and come down from London last night, sir, to see missus and the children, sir, which he is going up to town this arternoon, sir, said Benny, telling the first plausible story that came into his head. The dun was no match for the street boy, and whether he entirely believed the statement or not, he had to go away. Benny went back to his master and repeated to him the whole interview. And oh ! shame of manhood ! the noble Captain laughed 28 ANOBLELORD. heartily, and clapped the poor ignorant boy on the back, saying : " Benjamin, you are the very brightest boy I ever saw in my life ! that you are ! You are a real treasure, Benjie ! you are, indeed ! I wish I had half a crown to give you ! " " Please, sir," said Benny, plucking up spirit to make his desires known, " I don't want half a crown. I'd rather have" " What ? A whole crown, I suppose ? " laughed the Captain. " No, sir ; I meant a half a holiday some o' these days, please, sir." " What do you want with half a holiday, Benjamin ? " " Please, sir, to go and see Suzy Juniper, sir, please." " Ha ! ha ! ha ! ho ! ho ! ho ! Suzy Juniper, eh ? Who's Suzy Juniper ? Your young woman ? " laughingly inquir- ed the Captain, who was ia a very good humor with his bright page. " She's a friend o' mine, please, sir," answered Benny simply. " Ah ! a friend of yours ! " laughed the Captain. " But a very nice girl, for all that, sir ! " added Benny, who did not quite like his master's tone. " Oh, of course ! a very nice girl ! " "And a deal cleverer 'n I am, please, sir. She " He stopped and hesitated. Ever since the double tragedy of the Flowers girls, he had associated in his own rnind so much of vice and crime with the Thespian ballet, that, even little outcast as he was, he was ashamed to tell the occupa- tion of his little friend. "Well, what about her?" good-naturedly inquired the Captain. " She's a carpenter's daughter, please, sir." " Oh, a very decent origin ! Well, Benjamin, when you have been with us a mouth, and continued to be as sharp B E N N Y S H A V E N. 29 and serviceable as you are now, you shall have your half holiday to go and see Miss Suzy. And every mouth, as a reward for good conduct, you shall have the same indul- gence," " Thank y', sir, please, sir," answered Benny, pulling his forelock. And from that day, if it had been possible to have in- creased his zeal and diligence in the service of the Captain and his family, Benny would have done it. The poor boy was very happy at this time. Next to his pleasure in serving his master and mistress, was his pleas- ure in playing with the children, with whom he mixed on almost equal terms ; for children, when unperverted., are very democratic, although they ccmbe trained to become the most intolerant little snobs on earth. But there was a very loose system of family government at the Faulkners', and the poor bound boy was permitted to associate freely with the children. Indeed, so much faith had his mistress in Benny, that whenever she would lose sight of her little ones for any length of time, and inquire for them and hear that they were out with Benny, she would say : " Oh, if Benjamin is with them, it is all right ; he will be sure to take care of them." 30 ANOBLELORD. CHAPTER II. ARIELLE. She comes, the spirit of the dance ! Now gliding slow with dreamy grace. Her eyes beneath their lashes lost ; Now motionless with lifted face, And small bauds on her bosom crossed. And now with Rushing eyes she springs Her whole bright figure raised in air, As if her soul had spread its wings And poised her one wild instant there! She spoke not, but so richly fraught With language are her glance and smile, That when she disappeared they thought She had been talking all the while FRANCIS Osooon, BUT the month drew to a close, and the day came when the boy was to have his half holiday. vBut they gave it to him on Sunday afternoon, when he could best be spared, for if the family never went to church, neither did they ever work on the Sabbath day. " I suppose you'd just as lief have your holiday now as any other day, wouldn't you, my lad ? " confidentially in- quired the good-natured Captain, who treated his bound boy with great familiarity. " Oh, yes, sir, and a heap liefer ! 'Cause Suzy's always off o' Sundays," smiled Benny. " Off? what do you mean by off? " laughed his master. Benny blushed. Uot for the world would he have answered, " Off the boards," so he replied evasively : " She an't got nothing partic'lar to do, sir." " Oh ! well, get along with you. And be sure to be home time enough to get ready for your work to-morrow," were the last charges the Captain gave to his boy. And at twelve, noon, Benny, in his clean linen and well- brushed page's suit, and his well-polished shoes and new cap, and feeling happy as a prince, set out to walk to Lou- don. He exulted in the consciousness of being clean, well A R I E L L E. 81 lodged, well fed, well clothed, well liked, respectable and independent. Yes, even independent ! for the yoke of the kindly, shiftless Faulkners was so light that he scarcely felt it, or felt it only as a protection. He was eager to reach London and the Thespian Yard to show himself in his new clothes to Suzy Juniper. He walked very fast, he ran, and sometimes he sprang up behind a cab and got a free ride for a mile or two before he would have to jump down again to avoid the lash of the driver. Thus in less than an hour he found himself on Waterloo bridge, and in a few minutes more he entered the dark alley leading to the courtyard behind the Thespian theatre, at the back of which stood the old pile of buildings where the Junipers lodged. He found the father and mother, with their large family, sitting at their early dinner. Benny took off his smart cap, and bowed to them ; but they only stopped eating and stared at him, until Suzy sprang up, overturning her chair in her haste, and ran to him, exclaiming : " Why, it's Benny ! Why, Benny, what ever has come to you ? Where have you been ? They told us you had died in the 'ospital." " I think I must a died there, Suzy, and gone to Heaven, 'cause I'm so jolly 'appy now !" replied the boy, laughing. But before another word could be spoken, all the other Junipers, who now recognized Benny, left their seats at the table and came around him with more exclamations than I could repeat, and more questions than he could answer. " Let the boy sit down and have some dinner, and then he'll tell us all about it. How smart and handsome he do look, to be sure ! " said Mrs. Juniper kindly, as she placed another chair at the full table, and made Benny crowd in. " Now all on you sit down again and eat yer dinner before 82 A NOBLE LORD. it spoils. We'd only just begun, Benny, which it is a baked leg o' mutton and potatoes, and a happle tart, being Sun- day," explained Mrs. Juniper. Benny, having a fine appetite of his own, did his duty faithfully in helping to demolish the joint, and afterward the pie. But in the intervals of his exertions, he managed to satisfy the curiosity of his friends by Celling them : " As I've heerd the misses say, Mrs. Juniper, how I were reely guv up for dead and tuk out to the dead-house, which they was just agoing to nail me down in the coffing, when all of a suddint I cum to, and opened of my eyes and sit right up in the coffing, and ast them what the blue blazes they meant by going for to bury a cove alive ! I don't re- inember it myself > but that's what the cusses says I did," said Benny, giving the story with all the exaggerations that the gossips of the hospital had added to it. " Which it's my belief as they bury many and many a poor body alive, that I do ! " exclaimed the mother of the family. " Lord bless my soul," groaned the father, as he left the table and lighted his pipe to smoke the subject. He could always see more clearly through the fames of tobacco. "And it's my belief," said Benny, as he cut his apple-tart " it's my belief as I reely did die and go 'to heaven." " How can you talk so, Benny, when you know very well as you're on earth now ! " said Suzy. " You wouldn't think so, if you knowed where I'm a living, Suzy," answered the boy. And he told them all about his being removed from the hospital to the work-house, and his being bound to Captain Faulkner, and about his life at Woodbine Cottage. " Well, if you an't in heaven you're in luck, that's cer- tain, Benny," said Mrs. Juniper. " But, Suzy, you've lost all your nice pink and white color, and you're just as pale and thin as as as anything ! " .said Benny, looking wistfully at his little friend. A R I E L L E. 33 " That an't polite of 3-011, Bonny," answered the girl. " But what's the matter ? Are you ailing ? " he per- sisted. " No," answered Mrs. Juniper, speaking for her daughter. " It's the life she leads ; practising and rehearsing all the morning, and studying all the afternoon and acting all the evening. I wish the child had never seen the stage, that I do. But now I believe it would break her heart to take her off it. And besides, it do pay handsome, that's a fact, and it promises to pay handsomer still ; for they do say as she'll be a star some o' these days." " Benny, did you say as Woodbine Cottage was near the Helenic Gardens ? " inquired the girl. "Yes, Suzy; why?" "'Cause I'm engaged to dance there to-morrow. It is only a shilling, and may be } 7 ou can come." " You going to dance at the Helenic Gardens !" exclaimed Benny, in surprise. " Yes, Benny. Our manager have a many bids for me to dance at places. And o' Monday I'm agoing to dance at the Helenic. May be you can come and see me." " I should like to, Suzy." " And may be you can get your master and missus to come and bring them nice children as is so fond of you, Benny. I'm sure I'd dance my best if I thought they'd be there." " You should always dance your best, Suzy, if you wish to rise in your profession," said Mrs. Juniper. " I know it, mother ; but sometimes I do get that tired ! and then, if anything happens to put the spirits into my toes, I get over it and dance my best. I know if them chil- dren as is so fond of Benny was to be there to-morrow it would put the spirits into my toes, and I would dance like hevery thing." "If that'll do you any good, Suzy, I'll do my best to get 34 A N B L E L O R P. 'em leave to go," said Benny, though his heart aohed at the idea of his "respectable" master and mistress finding out that his own little friend Suzy Juniper danced on the stage. But the very next words of Suzy relieved his mind on that subject. " They're not agoing to put me down in the bills as ' Little Miss Juniper, the Infant Wonder/ any longer, Benny," she said. " Ah ! they an't, an't they ! " exclaimed the boy. " No ; and as I am too tall to pass for an ' Infant Won- der,' and they don't care about my appearing as a half-grown girl, which is never interesting, they're going to make me out as a fairy-like young lady, and set me down in the bills as Mademoiselle Arielle. Isn't that a pretty name ? " "Beautiful name ! But the people who go to the Thes- pian will know you are the ' Infant Wonder ' all the time." "No, the manager says not. The 'Infant Wonder' has taken leave of the Thespian forever. And now we are going on a tower through the country, where I am to appear as Mademoiselle Arielle, from the Theatre Francais, Paris. And I am to come back to the Thespian next winter rind appear as the Signorina Zephyrina, from the Italian Opera, Florence. Don't you see ? And they'll never know me again as the old ' Infant Wonder.'" While the boy and girl were talking Mrs. Juniper was making tea. And she soon called them to the tea-table. After that refreshment Benny got up arid took leave of the kind family, and set out to walk back to Sydenham. He reached home in such good season as to receive the praises of his master. The next morning, while Benny was working in the gar- den, surrounded by the children, who were diligently help- ing and hindering him, he began to tell them of the won- ders of the Heleuic Gardens which, by the way, poor Benny had never seen except from the outside. A R I E L L E. 35 He further told them that that day was a matinee, when the price of admittance was so low that almost everybody could go, and that there would be dancing and singing and playing, and that children could go in for half price. And he so excited the spirits of the children that they ran in with one accord to besiege their parents, and beg to be sent to the Helenic Gardens. " There are four of you fit to go, and with Benny there will be five five at sixpence a piece ; that will be half a crown. Charley, dear, have you got half a crown about you to give me to send the poor children to the matinee at the Helenic? It's only a shilling, you know, and children half price. And Benny can go with them and take care of them. They will be quite safe with Benny," said Mrs. Faulkner. And while she spoke, her "Charley dear" was feeling in all his pockets, whence he produced first a shilling, then a sixpence, then two three-penny bits, and lastly six pennies. " There ! I declare I didn't think I had so much money about me. But there you. are : half a crown altogether, lacking only one penny," said the Captain, as he good- humoredly emptied his pockets for the pleasure of the chil- dren. " Oh, I've got two pence, so we're all right ! And now, children, come and let me get you ready," said Molly Faulkner, as she carried off her brood. "Please, Charley, dear, call to Benny in the garden, and tell him to clean himself to go with the children to the matinee," she added, as she passed out of the room. So Benny took the children to the Helenic Gardens, and arrived early enough to find them front seats, where they sat watching the curtain in eager anticipation until it arose. There were several performers who sang and danced to the great delight of the children, as well as to that of the simple crowd that collect there at matinees. 30 A NOBLE LORD. But at length Mademoiselle Arielle flew upon the stage, alighted, and was greeted with " thunders of applause," in which Benny and his little companions heartily joined. Suzy immediately recognized her little friend and his companions, and smiled upon them as she executed her most graceful pirouettes. To say that the children were delighted would scarcely be doing justice to their state of ecstacy. They had never seen anything of the sort before, and the exhibition had all the charms of novelty added to its other attractions. " But Suzy acts better 'n she dances though ! " said Ben- ny proudly. " Who acts ? " inquired little Mary. Benny flushed. He had forgotten, for a moment, that he wished to con- ceal the identity between the dancer and his little friend Suzy. "Who acts?" again impatiently repeated little Mary. "Oh! she she as is now dancing. I say she acts bet- ter 'a she dances. I seen her act at the Thespian, you know," explained Benny. " Oh ! " exclaimed little Mary, and she looked with more interest than ever at the fairy dancer on the stage. And Suzy, or " Mademoiselle Arielle," finished her dance with a wonderful pas, kissed her hand to the children and vanished. She was applauded with enthusiam, recalled by acclama- tion, and danced and kissed her hand and vanished for the Last time. The performance was over, and Benny took the children home clamorous with delight over all they had heard and seen. "The children have been a great deal happier, and not half so much trouble, since we have had Benny, Charley, dear," said Mrs. Faulkner. POOR BENNY'S PURGATORY. 87 " Ob ! I say ! see here now, Molly, if you mean to take my page for a nursery maid, I shall take your pretty nurs- ery maid for a page ! " said the Captain. " I dare you to do it, Charley. There are some things I won't stand, you know ! " This little skirmish took place between the married pair while Benny and the children were at work in the garden. Benny had been very happy for the whole month that he had lived at Woodbine Cottage, and never more so than on this day ; but, ah ! this was destined to be the poor outcast's last happy day ! CHAPTER III. POOR BENNY'S PURGATORY. "One among the million, fainting on the way. Stricken by the heat and the burden of the day; Everywhere a struggle, and the struggle all for self, For the wickedness of pleasure or worthlessness of pelf. Dense are the crowds, and distracting is the strife; Alas ! for the woefulness and wear.ness of life! " SOON after this last happy clay, Benny fell into trouble. Partly from the goodness of his heart, and partly from the illness of his training, he committed a grave fault, by which lie lost the confidence of his master and mistress, and the companionship of his little friends. It happened in this way : One morning Mrs. Faulkner, with the help of her cook and a famous cookery book, had make a quantity of cur- rant jelly for winter use. After filling some dozen of com- mon glass tumblers with this jelly, and pasting up their tops with white paper, she put them all out on a deal table in the sun to "set." The children were all playing in the garden, where Benny was at work. 38 A NOBLE LORD. They had helped to pick the currants the day before. They had seen something of the process by which the beau- tiful ruby berries were turned into still more beautiful ruby jelly. They had even tasted the jelly, and found it good. And now the sight of so many glasses glowing in the sunshine, and smelling sweeter than all the fruits and flowers together, was almost too great a temptation for the integrity of the children. They hovered around the table, and touched and smelled, and longed to taste and eat. Benny called them off again and again, but to little pur- pose, since again and again they would return to the table. " You'll knock that there over presently, mind you, Miss Lily. That 'ere table's mighty shaky, you see," he said warningly, but fruitlessly. " Me only want to look," persisted the little willful one. " Miss Ada, 'deed you mustn't lift up that big tumbler ; you'll let it fall presently." " No, I won'tj Benny. I only want to smell." " Master Charley, sir, if you keep putting } r our tongue to the edge of the tumbler, you'll wet the paper and make it come off." "You" shut up! I only want to taste the jolly, where it is leaking here." "'Deed, Miss Lily, dear, if you try to climb up on the end of the table " CKASH ! Down came the table, glasses, jelly and all, cutting short the expostulations of poor Benny ! The slight table had tilted under the weight of the will- ful children, who had persisted in climbing or leaning upon it, and a heap of spilled jelly, mingled with broken glass, lay upon the ground. The crash was followed by a dead silence, as the panic- stricken children stood gazing on the wreck. "We've done it now!" said little Mary, gravely. POOR BENNY'S PURGATORY. 39 " And won't we catch it now, neither ? Oh, nay eye ! " exclaimed Master Charley. Ada and Lily began to cry. " There, now, don't tune up your little pipes for nothink! Crying never does no good. So what's the use o' crying ? Besides, what could you expect of tumblers but to tumble down ? Didn't the tumblers at the Helenic Gardens tum- ble ? And they was people. And if them flesh and blood tumblers tumbled, and got praised and paid for it too, what can you expect of these poor insensible glass tumblers ? " said Benny, by way of cheering up the fallen spirits of the children. " Benny ! don't tell on us, please ! " pleaded Ada. And Lily and Charley chimed in and added their petitions to- hers. Mary said nothing, but looked gravely on. "Don't tell on us, Benny! Don't tell on us !" pleaded the other three children. " Who tell ? ME ? Why, I never split on a pal in my life! I'd die first. And I've had rich chances! Why, lawk ! there were Sneaking Sam, and a 'ward o' fifty pound offered for him. And 1 knowed where he were all the time. And me and Rosy and granny all but starved to death that time. And I never spilt on him. 'Cause why ? It would a been mean. And besides, if he'd been lagged, they'd a made him a lifer," said Benny heroically. The children stared at him in utter astonishment. They comprehended not one word of what he said. At length Charley spoke : " I don't know what you're talking about, Benny. But I want to know one thing you won't tell on us ? " " No ! " said Benny, " I won't ! And now all on you cut and run, and leave me to face this here music ! " " The children all gladly ran away from the scene of the disaster, and left Benny on the spot. 40 A NOBLE LORD. He stood for a moment reflecting how lie could best cover the children's fault. He had some little instinctive mis- givings as to the right of deceiving his kind mistress, but then he would deceive her only to protect her own children from punishment, and so he dismissed these misgivings as so many weaknesses. " I'm sorry for missus a losing of all her jelly, arter taking sich a deal o' pains to make it ! But splitting on the kids won't do her no good, and punishing o' them won't fetch back the jelly ! So, blowed if / split ! " "With this resolution Benny wandered away from the spot, and resumed his work of weeding out the flower- beds. It was not until sunset that the misfortune was discovered. Then the cook went out to bring the glasses in, and see- ing the catastrophe, ran back into the house, calling to her mistress. " ma'am ! ma'am ! what a dreadful thing has hap- pened ! " " Heaven have mercy upon us ! Which of the children is it?" exclaimed the terrified mother, naturally supposing that one of her little ones had been tossed by a bull or bitten by a dog. " I don't know which on 'em it were, ma'am ; but every bit o' the jelly is ruined ! " answered the cook, speaking at cross purposes. " The jelly ! " exclaimed Mrs. Faulkner, puzzled. " Yes, ma'am ; the jelly ! which them little plagues of my life have knocked over the table, and broke every one of the glasses. I say it, and I stand to it, ma'am, begging your pardon, as children is the devil !" exclaimed the cook. " For goodness' sake, let me come and see what's the matter ! " said Molly. "Come then, ma'am, and see for yourself! And then, if you don't think as them ere little ones deserves a good POOR BENNY'S PURGATORY. 41 switching, Til give up," said the cook, leading the way to the scene of the catastrophe. Molly gazed on her lost treasures, and could have cried. "Where are the children ?" she inquired. "Oh, away down in the bottom of the garden, ma'am, like little thieves as have set fire to a barn and run away by the light of it!" "Where is Benny?" " There he is, ma'am, a weeding out the flower beds. But lor' ma'am, he never did the likes o' that ! A more steadier or a more carefuller lad don't live, ma'am." " Oh, I know it wasn't Benny ! But he may know some- thing about it. Call him here, cook. And call the chil- dren." " What's the row ? " inquired Captain Faulkner, walking up as the cook walked off. " Oh, Charley, dear, look there ! About three pounds' worth of red currant jelly utterly destroyed ! And we haven't any more currants on the bushes, and no more sugar until the children's fairy grandmother sends the next month's supply! And, oh, Charley, dear, it was for your sake I made it ! I know you are so fond of game, and game is nothing without currant jelly ! " "And who the devil did this mischief, then?" inquired the Captain, waking up to a realization of the misfortune. " Of course, the children. There was no one else in the garden, except Benny, and he would never have done it." " Molly, these children want to be taken in hand. Upon my word and honor, they are growing up as wild as un- broken colts. Where are they ? " " They are coming now. And here is Benny," said Mrs. "Faulkner, as the boy advanced, followed by the four terrified children. It was ridiculous and it was pitiable, the contrast between the abject terror of the children and its cause the destruo 42 ANOBLELORD. tion of a few dozen glasses of jelly. But then the poor children possessed a papa who doted on his stomach and a mam ru a who doted on him. " Benjamin, come here! Do you know anything about this ? " inquired Molly. " Yes, missus," answered Benny promptly. "Who did it?" " Please, missus, Farmer Greenfield's black bull." " What ? " exclaimed Mrs. Faulkner. "How is that?" inquired Captain Faulkner. "Tell me all about it, Benjamin," said Mrs. Faulkner. " Please, missus, Farmer Greenfield's black bull do be in Farmer Greenfield's meadow, behint the garding. And the bull, he lep over the hedge and came a rampaging through the garding, and he run over the table, so he did, and upsot all the jelly afore I could stop him." "Good gracious ! Why didn't you come to the house and tell me at once ? " inquired Molly. "Please, missus, I druv him out fust, and then I did just turn 'round to come and tell you when cook called me, so she did." " Charley, you must really complain of that bull. I can't have him jumping over the hedge and destroying everything in our garden. And, good gracious ! he might toss or gore one of the children some of these days, and then there ! I always was afraid of him ever since he was put in that pad- dock, and often and often have I warned Benny against him," said Mrs. Faulkner earnestly. Captain Faulkner laughed a heartless, sardonic, wicked laugh. And then his face grew still and stern, and he said : " Molly, don't you see that that infernal little rascal is lying as fast as a horse can trot ? The idea of Farmer Greenfield's black bull jumping over a hedge of six feet high to get into our garden ! Preposterous ! Look here, POOR BENNY'S PURGATORY. 43 you lying little villain ! The next time you undertake to lie, just be sure that you know what you are talking about. A bull couldn't leap over a six-foot hedge ! It would be im- possible. And now, do you see, your extravagant invention has betrayed j'ou ! It was you yourself who knocked over the table, and destroyed all this valuable jelly. Confess at once, sir, if you would escape a worse punishment than that I mean to give you ! " " I didn't never turn no table over, master ; nor no more did I break the tumblers, nor spill the jelly," said Benny firmly. " How dare you to tell me such a lie as that? Don't you know that it is mean, wicked, abominable to lie ? " demand- ed the Captain, totally oblivious of the fact that he him- self had taught the boy to do so. "I'm telling on you no lie, sir, this time; for I didn't never knock over the table and spoil the jelly," persisted the boy. At this moment the conscious faces of the children caught the eyes of the Captain. " You were with him in the garden most of the time. You may know all about this thing. Say, Charley, do you know who knocked over that table?" " The black bull did it ! " answered Master Charley, bold!} 7 endorsing the statement of Benny. " How dare you utter such a falsehood, sir ? You ! the son of a gentleman, to tell a lie ! Shame on you, sir! " " Oh, Charley ! Charley ! how could you tell a story ? " added his mother. " Go to the house, sir, and stay there till I come. I'll cane you well for this," said the Captain. And the boy, crestfallen, crept awa} r . "Now, then, you little ones; you will tell the truth. WHO DID IT ? " demanded the Captain. 'The blat bull did it," answered Ada. 44 A NOBLE LORD. 11 De bat bud did it," added Lily. "There now, you see, Charley, dear, yon have been un- just. The black bull must have done it!" exclaimed Mrs. Faulkner. " My dear Molly, how absurd ! It is just simply impos- sible ! No black bull, or any other sort of bull, could possi- bly have leaped over a six-foot hedge to have done this dam- age. This boy here did it. There is no doubt whatever about that. And he has so corrupted our children that lie lias induced them to join him in telling this lie. Look at Mary, there. She has said nothing as yet. Now I will question her, and I will guarantee that we hear the truth. Mary, who knocked over the table and destroyed the jelly ? " "We did, papa," answered Mary, hanging her head. "Who? You?" inquired the Captain, puzzled by her answer. " Yes, papa, we did : I and Charley and Ada and Lily. We got upon the edge of the table to lick the jelly where it leaked. And we were all at one end, and so we pulled it over, papa," answered Mary, weeping. "That is right, my little daughter; always tell the truth. There, don't cry any more. You sha'n't be punished," said the father, patting her head. Then turning to Benny, he sternly demanded : " And now, sir, what about the black bull ? " The boy turned his eyes on little Mary, and kept silence. By the rules of his thieves' code of honor, the only one he had ever learned, he was condemning little Mary for " split- ting" on a faithful "pal," and he felt himself betrayed and deserted. " How about that black bull of Farmer Greenfield's, sir ? " fiercely repeated the Captain. "It were a Irish bull o' my own, sir, I'm thinking," an- swered the boy, with a faint smile. POOH BENNY'S PURGATORY. 45 " None o' your insolence, sir. How dare you ! Sir, you have lied to me ! And by your example, sir, you have taught my children to lie. Charley, Ada and little Lily have all repeated the falsehood you put in their mouths " " I told the story to keep 'em from being punished, please, sir; I didn't know as there was any harm in it, please, sir. And I didn't tell 'em to jiue me in it, please, sir," said poor Benny, standing alone, pleading his cause as well as he could. But he left out the best argument he could have used in his defence. If he had only thought to say to his virtuous and indignant master : "You also taught me to lie, sir, and rewarded me when I did it well." But Benny did not once think of calling his master's consistency in question. Pie had made the best defence that he could, and now he stood patiently waiting his doom. "You thought there was no harm in it!" exclaimed the Captain, taking up the line of prosecution again. " You thought there was no harm in lying, and in teaching my innocent children to lie ! for, by your example, which they imitated, you did teach them. Sir, I do not know anything so base, so cowardly, so infamous as falsehood, except per- haps theft, which is as bad, but no worse. And those who lie will certainly steal " " Please, sir" " Be silent, sir ! I know of no punishment that I could inflict upon you too severe for your fault " continued the Captain. But just at this point little Ada and Lily began to cry. " Please, sir " again began Benny. " Hold your tongue ! " thundered the Captain. " And go instantly to the house, and up into the loft where you sleep, and wait there till I come. Then I'll decide what to do with you." 46 A NOBLE LORD. " Please, sir, let me speak just 0710 word. Please, sir, take it out on me like blazes ; but please, sir, don't take it out on poor little Miss Ada and Miss Lily ! Please, master, they's such little things, they don't know notliink ! " pleaded Benny for the weeping children. "How dare you dictate to me about my children, you wretched young work-house vagrant ! Be off with yourself. And see here ; this association between you and these chil- dren must be stopped, sir ! And now listen ! if ever I catch you speaking so much as one word to one of these children again, I will take you and cane you within one inch of your life. I'll break every bone in your body. I will, by ! Begone ! " As soon as the poor bound boy had left the spot, the noble Captain turned to his progeny. "You see, my dears," he began, " the disgrace that follows falsehood. And falsehood, let me tell you, is much more reprehensible in little ladies and gentlemen than in persons of that boy's order. Well, what the blazes do you want ? " He broke off to speak to the cook, who came down the garden walk. " Only this, sir," said the latter, " there's that man with the livery stable bill again wants to see you." " Tell him I'm not at borne. Tell him I've gone to town," said the Captain impatiently. " The woman might have had the sense to have said that without coming to bother me. Benny would have had ! But then he is in disgrace now, so it's no use talking of him," growled the Captain. " And now, my children," he continued, taking up his lecture, "bear this in mind; always, in future, to shun falsehood and speak the truth. You have all offended in that respect except Mary. Mary, my dear, I commend you for your courage and truthfulness. Charley, Ada and Lily, I am sorry I cannot commend you for the same qualities. BENNY'S BURDEN. 47 Ada and Lily are but babies, and could not be supposed to know better than to do as tbey did though they must never do it again. But you, Charley, my son, I am deeply pained by your conduct. However, I see that you yourself are thoroughly ashamed of it, so I will trust you will never re- peat it. And I will say no more than this : you must bear in mind that you are a gentleman, and a gentleman never lies ! And now let us go in to tea." CHAPTER IV. BENNY S BURDEN TOO HEAVY TO BE BORNE. And he -was bound a helpless slave, With no one near to love, to save, In all the world of men. A triendless, famished, work-house child, Morn, noon and night he toiled and toiled. Yet he was happy then. But weeks and months had passed away, And all too soon the bitter day Of wrath and ruin burst. The children feared him for his fate, And mistress' scorn and master's hate Him, their poor servant, curst. TUPPEB. BENNY went away to his loft and sat there alone. He was quite unconscious of having done any wrong, but bitter- ly conscious of having suffered injustice ; for now he remem- bered what he had before forgotten namely, that his master himself had often ordered him to tell .a falsehood at the street door to any unwelcome visitor, and had praised him when he had told it well. " To think as he'd order me to tell bouncing whoppers over and over ag'in, to keep a great big man like he from being ill-conwenienced with bills, and then come down on me only just for telling a little story to keep the little bits of children from being punished ! I say it's blamed hard, I do ! And a cove don't know what to make of it," said 48 ANOBLELORD. Benny to himself, as he brushed the indignant tears from his eyes, and waited for the coming of his master. It was not the threatened punishment he dreaded. He was no coward, and besides, he was inured to pain ; but to be banned from the society of the children he had loved and lied for and suffered for, seemed very bitter to the lonely boy. He did not dread any other puuishment, and indeed he had no occasion to do so. The auger of his master was very short-lived. And the good-huniored, unprincipled Captain had no more intention of keeping his word and beating his boy, than he had of performing his promises and pa3 7 ing his debts. After a while Benny was ealled down stairs to wait on the supper table. His master and mistress were at the table, but the chil- dren had gone to bed. He waited on them in silence, for they never spoke to him. He was glad, poor boy, when his duties were done, and he was at liberty to return to his lonely loft. He got up early the next morning, to try to recover, by zeal and diligence in his work, the lost favor of the family ; for his young heart was aching in solitude, and longing for sympathy. He waited on the table at breakfast. The children, as usual, ate this meal with their father and mother. But again the bound boy had to serve in silence. Neither master nor mistress spoke to him, except to give a brief order. And the children seemed afraid to look at him. Benny's heart was so oppressed by this silence and coldness that he felt as if he should suffocate, or as if he must speak and be spoken to, or die. Remember that he was the son of Willie Douglas and Eglantine Seton, and derived a delicate and sensitive organ- ization from both parents. BENNY'S BURDEN. 49 He could bear very much ; he could bear and had borne hunger, cold and pain ; but he could not bear to be shut out from sympathy with his kind. Benny took up a plate of muffins for an excuse to speak, and he offered them to one of the children, saying: " Won't you have a muffin, Miss Ada ? " He had better kept silence. Even kind-hearted Molly looked up, and said coldly : "I don't want you to speak to the children, Benjamin. I am very angry with you for teaching them to tell stories. And they have our commands not to have anything to say to yon." "Yes, sir," added the Captain sternly, "and you have had orders not to address one of them again. How dare you do it, sir ? Leave the room this moment, sir ! " Benny went out, his heart almost bursting with grief and indignation. The cook in silence gave him his breakfast, but the food seemed to choke him. To wash the dishes and rub the knives formed part of his daily duties. He accomplished this task, and then went out to weed the garden. The children were there as usual, and his own boyish heart yearned toward them ; but they walked apart, and he did not dare to approach them. Like Cain, he was banished, and like Cain, he felt his burden too great to be borne. This exclusion continued for days and weeks. And every day he felt his isolation more and more oppressive. The autumn came, and Captain Faulkner had a visitor staying with him at Woodbine Cottage. This was a visitor whom Molly did not like at all, but whom she tolerated for " dear Charley's sake." This was a certain Colonel Brierly, late of her Majesty's service, now retired upon half pay. This Colonel was a childless widower, who lived in London 3 O(J A N O B L E L O R D. lodgings whenever he did not get an invitation to some good country house. He was a great epicurean, an amateur cook with specialties in salads, soups, and punches aud " cups." It was not easy to keep him out of the kitchen ; and more than on-e cook, in houses where he visited, had given warn- ing on his account ; more than one kitchen maid had slyly pinned a dish towel to his coat tails. But nothing could break the Colonel of putting his finger in the family pie, or helping to improve " the broth ; " for, to do him justice, he never spoiled it. He was addicted to telling the most marvellous stories of his campaigns and adventures in India. By his own account, no living man had ever fought so many duels, hunted so many tigers, or broken so many ladies' hearts, as the in- vincible Colonel. In person, however, lie was certainly no Apollo, but a tall, thin, hard-featured, red-faced, grey-headed old gentleman, with a rough voice, which he was much given to exercise in very objectionable language, especially while emphasizing some of his incredible stories. This last-mentioned habit Molly Faulkner could not tol- erate in their visitor, and so she often arose and withdrew from the dinner table where they would be sitting, long before it was time for her to leave the gentlemen to their wine. On such occasions even Charley Faulkner would be half inclined to call his guest out. But if the brave and gallant Colonel was somewhat ob- jectionable in the dining-room, he was ten times more so in the kitchen to every one except Captain Faulkner, who liked the guest all the better for his cooking proclivities. The cook not only gave warning, but actually left tlio house, declaring that she would not stay in any place where the gentlemen demeaned themselves down to the level of sauce-pans and gridirons, and gave her so much extra work, cleaning up after them in the morning. And then they had to got a char-woman to come in every BENNY' s n u K D E N. 51 day, to fill her place until they could provide themselves with another cook. But the char-woman went away every day directly after dinner. It therefore fell to Benny's lot to help to get the next meal. Colonel Brierly and Captain Faulkner seemed to like this arrangement very much. They now had the kitchen. all to themselves, with Benny to do their will. Every afternoon, after their early tea, Molly Faulkner would take her children and go up stairs in disgust. The Colonel and the Captain would smoke in the garden until it was time for them to think about supper. Then they would call Benny and betake themselves to the kitchen, where the Colonel would throw off his coat, turn up his wristbands, and go in to the compounding of some rare salad, soup, or something of the sort. Benny was their most obedient slave, and did their will submissively until one fatal evening. On that evening the Colonel had procured a terrapin, which he was going to cook after a famous receipt. The fire was made in the kitchen range, and a pot of water was boiling. "Take the terrapin out of the tub and bring him here, boy," said the Colonel. Benny was half afraid to touch the ugly beast, whose long, snake-like head and neck were protruded from his shell, and reaching around as if in search of something to snap up ; but nevertheless the boy conquered his fear, and took the creature up in his hands and carried him to the Colonel. "Please, sir, here he is," said Benny. "All right; now drop him into that pot of boiling water," said the Colonel. Benny stood still and stared. " Well, why the deuce don't you do it ? " demanded the Colonel. f>2 A N O B L E L O R D. "Please, sir, he's alive ! " said Beuny. "Of course he's alive, you idiot! He wouldn't be fit to cook if he wasn't alive. Drop him in the boiling water at once ! " Obediently Benny approached the boiling water, and held the struggling creature over its hot steam for an instant, and then, shuddering, drew back. " Why the blazes don't you drop him in ? Are you quite a fool ? " demanded the Colonel. " sir ! please, sir, don't make me do it ! It is boiling so hard ! It will scald him to death ! Oh, please, sir, kill him easy before you drop him in ! " pleaded the boy. " You infernal little son of a gutter, if you don't do what I order you in one second, I'm blasted if I don't take and chuck the terrapin into the pot and you after it! " exclaim- ed the Colonel in a voice of thunder, as he sprang toward the boy. With a start of terror, Benny inadvertently let the terra- pin fall into the boiling water so suddenl}', that the water splashed up into his own face and scalded him. And then he burst into tears, not from the pain of his burns, but from pity and horror. That mode of putting a living creature to death may be necessary and proper, for aught I know, but little Benny, outcast as he might be, was no more fit for the cruel work than was either of his dainty little sisters and brothers at Cheviot Plouse. " I say Faulkner," began the Colonel, with half a dozen abominable expletives, " this fellow of yours wants the dis- cipline of your horsewhip. Why don't you give it to him ? " "I know he wants thrashing, Brierly ; and I don't know why I don't thrash him. And, indeed, I don't know why I don't send him about his business. He's an awful little liar, for one thing," answered the Captain. BENNY'S BURDEN. 53 " He is, is he ? I'd like to have the training of him for a little while. S'pose you let me have him up to Lon- don ? " " Perhaps I will. I'll see/' answered Captain Faulkner. And then, as the dressing of the terrapin demanded all their attention, they left the subject of Benny and devoted their minds to cookery. That night Benny, lying alone in his loft, thought over all the loneliness and misery of his position, and felt a longing to return to his old companions in Junk Lane. Beggars and thieves and worse they were, but they had never been cruel or unkind to him. He could bear anything better than this loneliness. His heart felt breaking in his solitude. He took a sudden resolution. He would run away and go to London, to his old friends the beggars and thieves, who would hide him away from cruel Captain Faulkner and horrible Colonel Brierly. He would never see the pretty, friendly children again, and the thought gave him pain, until he said to himself that that would not be worse than to see them every day and not to be allowed to speak to them. So Benny got up and dressed himself very quietly, and went down stairs from his loft to the scullery below it. There was no one to hinder him. He unbolted and un- barred the door, and opened it and went out. It was a dark and drizzling night in November; but he did not mind the weather; it rather favored his flight. He passed around to the front of the house, and down the front garden walk, and through the gate, and out into the lane. The lane was ver} 7 dark, but it was narrow and straight, so that he could not miss his way. The lane led to the high road, where there were gas lamps and sidewalks. 54 ANOBLELORD. Benny hurried along as fast as he could walk, until he suddenly stopped short in great surprise and delight. A man was leaning against a lamp-post. The man turned around, and Benny recognized his step- father, Tony Brice. CHAPTER V. THE BURGLARY. Shadows there are, who dwell Among us, yet apart, Deaf to the claim of God. Or any ki ndly heart. Voices of earth and heaven Call, but they turn away; And Love, through such black night, Can Bee no hope of day. A. A. PEOCTOR. YES, it was Tony Brice ! big, bull-necked, bullet-headed, red-haired Tony Brice ; but oh, so altered so aged, haggard, ragged and wretched ! Benny could scarcely recognize him. They stared at each other for a moment in doubt, and then both at once spoke : " Why, daddy ! " cried Benny. " Why, Beany, my man ! " cried Tony. " Oh, daddy, I'm so glad to see you ! " said the lonely lad, bursting into tears. " So am I you, Benny, my brave bo}' ! " said the wretched man. " They told me as how you had runned away to forring parts, never to come back no more ! " wept Benny. " They told you a lot o' lies, then, 'cause you see I have come back. And what's more, they told me a lot o' lies also. They told me as you'd died in the 'ospital. And here you are ! " growled Tony. " Well, they thought I died. I 'most did die. And the T H E B U U G L A R Y. 55 undertakers was going to nail me down in the coffing; but I was too game to stand that, daddy ! " exclaimed Benny, suddenly drying his tears and laughing. "Eh ? too game for what ? " inquired Tony. " Too game to let them nail me down in the coffing, when they thought I was dead. Oh, you don't know how game I was, daddy ! Just as they was going to hammer away. I come to, and lept up, and guv 'em a black eye apiece, I did ! " said Benny, repeating another version of the exag- gerated stories that, half in jest and half in earnest, had been circulated about his sudden resuscitation in the dead- house. "Well, I swow ! Benn} r , that's a bouncer! " said Tony. "No ; t an't. You go ask the misses in the 'ospital," re- plied the boy, who fully believed the stories that had been told him. His faith convinced Tony, who exclaimed : " Well, dash me, but that's the queerest go as ever I hear in all my days ! And they told me in Junk Lane as you'd died in the 'ospital. You didn't go back to Junk Lane, Benny ? " "No, daddy. 'Cause why? They sent me from the 'ospital to the work'us. And from the work'us they binded of me out for a gentleman's servant." " Blow their imperance ! To bind a man's only son out, without his knowledge and consent! So you're bound out, are you ? Who's your master ? " " A Capting Faulkner. But I've run away. I run away this wery night, and were on my road to London when I met you," explained Benny. Tony gave a long, low whistle, and then he said: " Come along wi' me, my boy. We mustn't stand here. The bobbies will be a spotting on us. Let's walk a spell." They sauntered on together, and Tony said : " So you ran away ? Quite right, my bully boy. But 56 ANOBLELORD. what did you run away for, aside o' the nateral love o' lib- erty ?" " I couldn't stand it no longer, daddy. I couldn't indeed. I tried hard, for love o' the children, but I couldn't ! " " They mistreated you, did they ? Like 'em ! Tell rue all about it, my man ! " Benny told him. " And so you slipped out after they were all asleep ? " " Yes, daddy." " Who fastened the door after you, Benny f" " Nobody didn't, in course. There wa'n't nobody to do it. The cook went away all along o' Colonel Brierly's goings on. And the nuss-rnaid sleeps long o' the child'en in the front part o' the house up stairs. And lor, daddy, how queer you do talk ! In course I wasn't a going to call anybody to shet the door after me when I was up to cutting away ! " said Benny, in surprise at his daddy's unusual stupidity. Tony Brice chuckled. " And so, Benny, you left the door open ? " "Why, in course, daddy !" " And they was all fast asleep in the house ? " " In course, daddy ! " "Do them two gemmen, that Capting and his wisitor, sleep sound ? " " Well, I just think as they do, daddy. They set up drinking punch till they can hardly stand on their feet, and then they help each other up stairs and off to bed. And they sleep that sound a cannon wouldn't wake 'em." "Any man-servant about the house, Benny ? " "No, daddy, nor servant whatsomedever, 'cept 'tis the nuss-maid." "Any dog?" No, daddy." " And the house is at the end of a lonesome lane ? " " Yes, daddy." THE BURG LAKY. 57 "Benny, I think as you was werry wrong to leave that door open. Some murderer might get in and kill them child'en as you're so fond of," said Tony, shaking his head. " Oh, so there might ! " said Benny, starting, and chang- ing color. " I never thought of that before. I might have locked it on the outside too, mightn't I, daddy?" " Yes, you might. Benny, I think I must go back and lock that door to purtect the innocent child'en, you know," said Tony, with a cunning leer, whose wicked meaning escaped poor Benny's observation. " I think I must go back and lock that door to purtect the child'en, Benny." " Yes, daddy, so do," eagerly exclaimed the boy. " Is the house far off, Benny ? " " No, indeed, daddy." "I wonder what o'clock it is ? " " I heerd the clock o' St. Mark's strike one, just afore I met you, daddy." " Then I've got time enough. Come along, bully boy, and show me the way," said Tony, turning back. They went on together until they reached the entrance of the lonely lane leading to Woodbine Cottage. " Is that the house down there, where you can see noth- ing but chimneys through the trees ? " inquired the man. " Yes, daddy, that's the house. And you go through the garden gate, which, in course, I had to leave that open too. And you go round on your left hand to the back o' the house, and there you'll see the kitchen door open. There's a vine growin' over the top of it, and a bee-hive close by. So you'll know it." "Oh, I'll find it fast enough. You stay here, Benny, till I come back," said Brice, as he walked on down the lane. Benny sat down on a stone under the hedge and waited. He was very tired and very willing to rest for a while. But as soon as he sat down lie began to grow sleepy. 58 A N C) H 1. K L O R D. He watched and listened until Brice's burly form disap- peared in the darkness and the echoes of his footsteps died away, and nothing was to be seen but the lonely lane, and nothing was to be heard but the drizzling rain. Benny nodded, recovered himself; nodded again. And he repeated this process some half a dozen times before he finally fell fast asleep. He had slept some time, when he was suddenly aroused by a quick succession of violent noises. There was the report of several shots fired fast, one after the other, and there was the swift rushing of feet. Benny started up in a panic and rubbed his eyes. He saw lights glancing from windows in the cottage at the end of the lane, and he knew at once that the whole household had been aroused. Two men were running up the lane the pursued and the pursuer. The foremost one had a large pack upon his back, which retarded his progress. The hind- most one was disembarrassed and was gaining rapidly on the foremost, who suddenly wheeled around and fired a pistol. The hindmost man dropped, and laid perfectly still. And the next moment Benny recognized Tony Brico in the man who carried the pack and fired the pistol. " Up, bully boy. Cut and run for your life. London, yon know. Cracksman Jack's," exclaimed Brice, as he flew past the boy. Benny, suddenly startled from his deep sleep, perplexed, bewildered, terrified, scarcely realizing what had happened, yet feeling that his only safety consisted in instant flight, staggered to his feet and ran off as fast as his legs could carry him. Outside, on the high-road, everything was as quiet as if nothing terrible had occurred in the lane. It was very dark, and Benny slackened his pace and peered about to see if he could catch a glimpse of Tony anj'where. Brice was no- where to be seen. Then Benny heard some one coming T H E B U R G L A R Y. 59 from the direction of the lane. The boy shrank into still deeper shadows, and watched for the passing of the new- comer. The figure that walked rapidly by seemed only a denser shadow than that which enveloped and obscured all other objects. Yet Benny thought it was Captain Faulkner, and lie now knew also that the man who had been shot by Brice must have been Colonel Brierly, and that the Captain was now hurrying to give the alarm to the police. Captain Faulkner walked rapidly a few yards ahead of the spot where Benny crouched, and then turned sharply off, and went on in a direction at right angles to that which the boy meant to take. Benny watched him out of sight and hearing, and then arose to resume his flight. But at that moment a hand was laid on his shoulder, and a voice whispered into his ear : " Hold on. Yer mustn't go this road, j'er'd be nabbed in half an hour. Pie's gone for the bobbies. Cut across this common and on to the Westminster Road, and so to London. I must take another track. But you make for London and Cracksman Jack's. Do you mind now ? " "Yes, daddy, I mind. Was you here all the time ?" " Sartain. And so close a hint you, as you might a felt my panting at the back o' your head. There, cut away, now ! There ben't a minute to lose." With these words the robber and possible murderer was off. Benny clambered over a hedge and ran across a field, and then clambered over a second hedge and got out upon a common, ran across the common and came out upon the high-road. The darkness of the night and the drizzling rain favored his escape. And the dawn of day found him in London, and in the neighborhood of the Seven Dials. 60 A NOBLE LORD. He knew the den of thieves indicated to him by Tony Brice, and known to the craft as Cracksman Jack's. It was a tumble-down old house, in a court, in the darkest, dirtiest and densest part of the neighborhood. Benny passed in and found himself in the midst of its wretched denizens beggars, tramps, thieves and worse, of men, women and children. He was a stranger to most of them, and they were jealous of the entrance of strangers. They looked at him suspiciously, and then recognized him as the little tramp that he was, and therefore one of them- selves. "What d'yer want here, boy?" inquired a good-natured looking, poor wreck of a girl, who was loitering on a miser- able door-step. " Why, please, Miss Mary Hann, I wants the cracksman," answered the lad. "Why, it's Benny!" exclaimed the girl, recognizing an acquaintance. " I declare, child, I didn't know yer. But then I ha'n't seen yer for more than a year. Yer want the cracksman ? " " Yes, Miss Mary Hann." " Jack ! " called the girl, turning her head toward the door. A low-built, thick-set, bettle-browed, black-headed and altogether very ill-favored fellow made his appearance from the inside of the house, growling : " Wull, wot d'you want now ? " " Here's some 'un wants to see yer," said the girl, point- ing to Benny. " Wot do you want, kid ? " " Please, Mr. Jack, daddy, he " " Hello ! " exclaimed the cracksman, interrupting the boy. " Why, it's Tony Brice's lad ! Where did you come from ? He thought as how you was gone up the spout ! " Before Benny could explain where he did come from, and T H E B U U G L A R Y. 61 why he had not " gone up the spout," the cracksman hur- ried other questions upon him. " Hello ! I say ; where's your daddy ? Did he send you to me ? But in course he did. Why didn't he keep faith with an old pal ? There I kept watch by the blasted elm more'n three hours, waiting for him. Did he give you a message for me ? But in course he did. So out with it ! Wot's up. with him ? Was he copped? " " No, Mr. Jack, but he told me to come 'ere to you, and he'd be along by and by," said Benny. " Why, wot's he been up to now ? Have he cracked a case ? " " No, Mr. Jack, not cracked, sneaked." " Any swag ? " " Lots ! He's coming on with it too." " That's bully ! " " But oh, I say, Mr. Jack," said Benny, turning suddenly very pale. "W'y, wot's the matter, bully boy?" demanded the cracksman. " Daddy'll have to go in lavender." * " Eh ! wot ! wot's he been up to now, besides sneak- ing?" " Oh, Mr. Jack, he have shot a man down dead as run after him in the lane," replied Benny, in a low, faint voice, as he reeled and leaned up against the door-post. " Whee-ee-ew ! " commented the cracksman, with a long whistle. Benny burst out crying, and sobbed hard. " Come, come, my bully man ! Brace up ! Daddy'll be all right soon as he gets here, you know. And as for you, you're safe enough anywhere," said the cracksman cheer- fully. " I don't know that. But I wasn't a thinking on myself. * In hiding from the police. 62 A NOBLE LOK1). I was a thinking on poor daddy, an.'l how I saw him shoot the man down dead, and if so be the bobbies cop him aiid me, they'd make me swear his life away," sobbed Benny. " Bosh ! they couldn't make you do it ! You'd never go for to swear away your own dadd} T 's life, 3-011 know." "But I saw him shoot the man down dead!" sobbed Benny, whose instinct was to tell the truth on all occa- sions upon which he had not previously been instructed to lie. " S'pose you did ? That's nothink. Swear you didn't. Swear you saw another man do it. And let's see your daddy's red-headed and freckle-faced. Ssvear now to a man as different from him as possible. Swear it was a tall, black-headed man, with a long face and a hook nose, you know ! That'll get your daddy clean off from being scrag- ged though I doubt as they'll give him fourteen years for the robbery that is, if so be they'll catch him, which they won't not if. we know it, eh, bully boy ? " "No," said Benny, as his face brightened, for although lie had been terribly shocked by the sight of the murder, and was deeply depressed by the memory of it, yet now that he was told that it was his duty to swear his father clear of the crime, he felt his spirits rise. "And here he comes now," added the cracksman, as a ragged man with a pack on his back, entered the court, singing: Old clo' ! Any old clo ? " " Hello, old chap ! What have you got there ? Old clo' sure enough ? " inquired the cracksman. "Not much ! " said Tony, as he took the pack from his shoulders and set it down with a rattle on the ground. " Whee-ee-ew ! Silverplate ! " commented the cracks- man. "And watches and sich. But it was by the old clo' dodge that I got 'em safe through the streets under the T II E N I G H T A I, A R M. 63 \verry eyes o' the bobbies," said Tony, with a boastful and defiant air that ill concealed the trouble of his guilty breast. "Bring 'em in!" said the cracksman hurriedly, leading the way into the house. And there we must leave them engaged in devising some way by which they could conceal their plunder and protect Tony. CHAPTER VI. THE NIGHT ALARM AT WOODBIKE COTTAGE. What's the business, That such a hideous uproar calls to parley The sleepers in the house? SHAKESPEAKB. FOR an hour after Benny had left the house, the sleepers therein remained undisturbed. The extreme quiet of the situation favored deep repose, but at the same time made the senses of the sleepers more susceptible to any unusual sound about the premises. That night Mrs. Faulkner had retired earl) 7 , with her children and nurse, and they were all very fast asleep in their apartments in the second floor front. Captain Faulkner, somewhat overcome by punch, had been helped up to his wife's room by Colonel Brierly, and had dropped down in his clothes on the sofa to sleep him- self sober. Colonel Brierly, seasoned old toper that he was, had drank about twice aa much as his younger companion, but yet retired to his bachelor bedroom on the first floor back as sober as a saint. Having a good digestion also, he slept lightl} 7 , and dreamed pleasantly, eating all his best dishes over again in his visions, until a very slight noise in his room quietly awakened him. 64 A N O B L E LORD. It was so dark that he could see nothing ; but he lay and listened, not without some disturbance of his nervous sys- tem; for it is rather trying to the firmest heart, to wake in the night and hear some unknown person prowling about iu the darkness around your bed. Colonel Brierly at length slipped silently off his mattress, and felt his way cautiously to the gas-burner and the match safe that hung beneath it, and drew a match.. By its sudden flash he saw a man with a full sack on his back, and a pair of pantaloons in his hands. The man dropped the pantaloons and ran off with the sack. Colonel Brierly lighted the gas and then gave chase to the man, halloing out as he went : " Ho ! Faulkner ! Faulkner ! Thieves ! thieves ! " The thief ran down stairs, through the back-passage and out at the kitchen door, the Colonel pursuing him and shouting at the top of his voice : "Stop thief! stop thief!" But the burglar darted through the garden, out at the gate, and up the lane as fast as his legs could carry him. The Colonel, who had caught up his revolver when leav- ing his room, now fired three or four shots, in quick succes- sion, after the flying thief, who, notwithstanding, continued his flight. Meanwhile the family at the cottage had been roused by the uproar. Molly was the first to wake, and on hearing the cries of: "Ho, Faulkner! Faulkner! Thieves! thieves!" she sprang up, and ran over to the sofa on which her husband was sleeping off the fumes of his punch, and she laid hold of him and shook him vigorously, while she shouted in his ears : "Charley! Charley! There's some robber broke into the house, and Colonel Brierly is calling you to help to catch him ! " THE NIGHT ALARM. 65 Over and over again, and with many hard shakes, she had to cry these words into the ears of the intoxicated man, before she could arouse him to a comprehension of the case. Even then he only stared stupidly at his wife, and asked which of the children was in tits. " Go wet your head, Charley, and come to your senses ! There are thieves in the house ! " she shouted in his ears. Then indeed he sprang up, dipped his head in a basin of cold water, wiped it hastily, and seized his revolvers, sobered and ready for action. " Where ? " he inquired. " There ! " answered Molly, pointing through the front window, which she had opened. " There ! You can't see anything, but I heard them run out of the gate, and Colo- nel Brierly after them. Listen ! There ! some one is shooting ! " she exclaimed, as the sound of several pistol shots reached her ears. Captain Faulkner darted out of the room, ran down stairs and out of the house, hurrying as fast as he could to the assistance of his guest. But the lane was now dark and silent; nothing but the dim outlines of the hedges could be seen, nothing but the drizzling of the rain could be heard. Still he went on, calling : " Brierly ! Brierly ! Where the deuce are you ? " But there was no answer. Near the cutlet of the lane he stumbled over a prostrate form and fell to the ground. At the same moment a faint voice spoke and said : " For Heaven's sake, help me ! I am bleeding to death ! " " Brierly ! Good Heaven ! Where are you hurt ? " ex- claimed Captain Faulkner, recognizing the voice of his guest, and struggling to his feet in the darkness. " In the leg ; but I'm faint from loss of blood. I believe 4 66 A NOBLE LORD. an artery is severed. That scoundrel of a burglar turned on me, and fired just as I was about to seize him." " Well, I wouldn't talk if I were you. You'll waste your strength. Now what the deuce am I to do? If I had a light here, I might stanch the blood at once ; but I haven't. And how the deuce am I to get you to the house ? Do you think, if I were to help you up, that you could manage to walk by leaning on me?" inquired the Captain, in great perplexity. "No, no, no couldn't think of it! If I were to stand up I should bleed to death in a very few minutes," an- swered the Colonel, in a fainting voice. " I could run back to the house and fetch the two women to help to carry you ; but I am afraid to leave you here. You might faint. What the deuce had I best do ? What would you rather I should do, old fellow ? " "I don't know, I'm sure," groaned the wounded man, growing fainter every minute. "Wot's the row, masters?" inquired a countryman who had quietly come up. "A gentleman has been shot by a burglar while pursuing the miscreant. And I want help to take him to the house at the other end of the lane," explained the Captain. " Here I am at your service, master. And glad I am to be on hand. I was going home, after sitting up with a sick neighbor all night, when just as I was passing the 'high- road near the opening of the lane I heard your voices in distress, and I thought I would just come and see what was amiss. No offence, I hope ? " " Of course not. Only lend us a hand here." " Certain. Master, if you'll support the gentleman's Lead and shoulders, I'll support his legs." " Yes, that will do," said Captain Faulkner. And between them they raised the wounded and groan- ing man, and bore him gently on toward the cottage. THE NIGHT ALARM. 67 The whole house was lighted up now, as if light was the very best protection against hidden dangers. And all the members of the little family, mother, nurse, and little children, half dressed and half frightened, were assembled in the front hall. Seeing them standing in the blaze of the gaslight, as he drew near with his burden, Captain Faulkner called out : "Now, Molly, don't be frightened; for we're bringing home a wounded man." " Is it the robber ? " inquired Mrs. Faulkner, hastening out to the gate to meet them, and fully believing that Cap- tain Faulkner and Colonel Brierly had wounded and captured the burglar, and were bearing him home in triumph. "But, good Heaven! It is the Colonel himself!" ex- claimed Molly, as she recognized the wounded man. " Yes, my dear lady, it is I. And the scoundrel has done for me, I do believe," groaned the Colonel, as they bore him into the house. " Oh, come now, master ! Not so bad as that, neither," said the countryman cheerfully. They carried him to his own chamber and laid him on his bed, and then began carefully to undress him. They found the wound in his leg already almost stanched by the clotting of the blood. They bound it up as it was, until they could procure the services of a surgeon. " Now where is Benny ? I must send that boy for Dr. Herby at once," said the Captain. " Oh, Charley, dear, I'm sure I forgot to tell you ! I was so shocked at seeing the Colonel wounded that I forgot all about that boy," said Mrs. Faulkner, who was standing by the Colonel's bed. "What about him, Molly ? " inquired the Captain. " Oh, Charley, he's gone ! " " Gone ! " " Yes ; run away ! " 68 A NOBLE LORD. "Are you sure ? " *' Oh, Charley, dear, yes. As soon as you ran out in the lane we were all frightened at not having a man in the house at such a dreadful time, and we all went together to Benny's room to call him, and we found that he was not there. And we called him, and searched for him all over the house, but he was certainty gone." " Well, I swear ! That diabolical little miscreant I see it all now has opened the door to the burglars, and let them in ! " exclaimed the Captain. " I always thought the little sneak looked like a snakes- man," murmured the Colonel. "A suakesman ! " echoed Molly, in perplexity. "Yes, dear lady; but you don't know what that means. In thieves' Latin, a snakesman is a thin, lithe boy, trained to wriggle himself, like a little serpent, through a small window, side light, or panel, into a house, and open a door to bigger burglars." " Oh, Benny was thin enough, goodness knows ; but he didn't look wicked." " Ah ! his innocent looks made him all the fitter instru- ment of evil. But what the deuce, Faulkner ! are you going to leave me without surgical help until my wound in- flames ? " groaned the Colonel, trying to draw up his suffer- ing limb and failing to do so, and then groaning worse than ever. " I beg your pardon, Brierly ! This new discovery has quite upset me. I'll go for a surgeon at once, and to the police quarters too, while I'm about it," said the Captain, preparing to be off. " Oh oh oh ! The rascals have got both my watches, with their chains and diamond seals. One is a chronometer a heavy gold chronometer ; and the other oh, oh, oh ! blast the fellow ! how my wound smarts ! the other is a small gold, enamelled watch, studded with diamonds. But THE NIGHT ALARM. G9 you would know them, should the scoundrel be taken with the property on him." " Oh, yes, of course ! Don't disturb yourself," said the Captain, drawing on his gloves. " And I suppose you have suffered equally, Faulkner, my poor fellow ? " said Brierly. The Captain burst out laughing. " I should like to know what they could find worth carry- ing off in our house. Molly and I have no money, nor do we own a watch or an article of jewelry between us, nor a single piece of plate, unless Britannia ware will pass for such," he said. "And they've taken all that, and our spoons and forks to boot ! " said Mrs. Faulkner ruefully. " Electro-plate ! Oh, how the rascals are sold ! They took this for silver, in the dark, you see ! " said the Captain, roaring with laughter. "Faulkner, will you go for a surgeon?" impatiently demanded the Colonel. " My dear fellow, I am off now ! Friend, will you oblige me by remaining here with these frightened women until I return," inquired the Captain. "With all my heart, sir," answered the countryman. But Captain Faulkner scarcely waited to hear the reply, before he bounded down the stairs and out of the house on his errand. On the high-road, as we know, he passed close by the burglar and the boy, without suspecting the proximity of either. He hastened first to the residence of the nearest surgeon, knocked him up, informed him of the outrage, and gave him directions how to find the cottage in the lane. The doctor promised to hasten immediately to the assist- ance of the wounded man. And Captain Faulkner left him and hurried away to the police quarters. 70 A N O B I. E I. O R D. He found the night-watch at the station house, just about to be relieved. He inquired for the principal officer who might then be on duty, and he was at once shown into a stuffy, musty, close little office, where the gas was still burning and the weary official at the desk still watching. He went up to this person and gave his name and stated his case, all of which was taken down in writing by a clerk seated at the end of the same desk. He charged his bound boy, Benjamin Hurst, alias Ben- jamin Brice, with being associated with a burglar or bur- glars, and with having, on the just preceding night, opened the doors to one or more thieves, who robbed the house of money, gold watches and other articles, and seriously wounded a gentleman visitor of the family, while he was in pursuit of them, and then made off with their booty. " Have 3 T ou any suspicion as to who were the parties that robbed your house, Captain Faulkner?" inquired the In- spector. "Not the slightest suspicion as to the identity of any one among them except the boy. It is certain that he opened the door to the burglars," answered the Captain. "Where is that boy?" " He ran away with the thieves after the robbery. I thought I had mentioned that." " No, you had not. And it is important. You know the boy, and you do not know the others ? " " Exactly." " Do you happen to know any of the boy's friends, asso- ciates, or haunts ?" "No; he is an orphan, and I got him from the work- house last spring. Yet, stay ! Yes, I do know some of his friends and places of resort, or rather I know one of each." " Let us hear what you know, if you please, Captain." " He has some friends that he visits in London, called let me see a curious name Beech? Hazel? Pine? THE NIGHT ALARM. 71 No Juniper ? That's it Juniper! There is a carpenter and his family of the name of Juniper. They live in the yard behind the the the 'Victoria?' no the Thespian Temple theatre." " Oh, yes ; I know. And they have a girl named Suzy a pretty little dancing girl ?" "That's it! 'Suzy' a friend of Benny's; though I didn't know she was a dancing girl. Benny spent his half- holidays with her. She is the only friend he has in the world, as far as I know." " We must watch the stage carpenter's family. We shall probably thereby light upon Master Benny, and through him discover the perpetrators of this daring robbery. In the meantime also, we shall set our most experienced detec- tives on other tracks," said the Inspector. And then he asked Captain Faulkner a number of other questions, to which he received some satisfactory and some unsatisfactory answers. And then he gave his client a number of valuable hints, all tending toward the discovery of the robbers. And finall}'', as it was now broad daylight, the Captain arose and took his leave. When he returned to Woodbine Cottage, he found the Colonel in a deep, wholesome sleep. " The doctor says he will be all right in a week or ten days, if he will keep quiet and abstain from stimulants," said Molly, as she met her " dear Charley " in the hall. " The devil himself can't make the Colonel do that," re- plied the Captain. Then they went in to breakfast. " And only think, Charley, dear," said Molty, as they sat down to the table, "the horrid burglars have taken away all our electro-plate service, and we have got to use the tin cof- fee pot from the kitchen." "Never mind, Molly ! Revenge is sweet ! This happen- 72 A N O B L K L O R D. ed fill through the treachery of that little serpent, Benny ! But we will have him in limbo before a week is over our heads. You'll see," said the Captain with assurance. CHAPTER VII. THE DETECTIVE. A most seemly fir and reverend gentleman I We'll trust him. MESSBMOF.B. BKXXY could not be found, although he was diligently sought for by the most experienced detectives not that they cared so much to capture the boy, except as a means of capturing the man, and perhaps the gang of men, en- gaged in the burglary. A skillful detective, in the disguise of a home missionary clergyman, visited the Junipers, and under the pretence of seeking the boy for the purpose of entering him as a resi- dent pupil in one of the public charity boarding-schools for boys, made many inquiries concerning Benny. Good, motherly Mrs. Juniper was at once interested. " And a good job, sir, it will be, to take the poor, misfor- tunate orphing and put him to school, to have him reared up in the way he should go according to the Scripter," she said, suiting the style of her conversation to the cloth of the supposed clergyman. " But I do not know where to find the lad unless you tell me," answered Spry, the disguised detective. " Lor, sir, I can tell you that easy enough. He be a page living along of one Captain Forkiner, at Woodbine Cottage, Hawthing Lane, Sydingham." " He was living there, but he is not now. He was en- ticed away some ten days ago." " Lor ! see at that now ! Who could a done it ? Old T H E PET ECTI V E. 16 Ruth Drug she's dead, and a good job too ! Madge she's in the rnad-house, which is another good job ! And that ras- killy ruffing begging your parding, sir, it's that bad Tony Brice, his pappy-in-law, as I mean he's been run away this ever so long, and a good riddance of bad rubbish, sir ! Any way, they're all gone, them male and female reporates as were leading of the boy to his everlasting ruing. And so I can't think who have enticed him awa} T ." " No more can I," said Mr. Juniper, who happened to be present. " I had hoped that you would be able to assist me in res- cuing this interesting lad from his evil associates," said the pretended clergyman. " So we can, sir. Indeed we can ! " put in eager, affec- tionate, confiding little Suzy. " No matter where Benny is, he will be sure to come to see us soon. Benny is good, sir. Oh, indeed, indeed Benny is good, sir. Ever since I knew Benny, he was always doing the very best he could to please everybody old folks and children, and the poor dumb crea- tures too ! for Bennj T felt for them all, sir, he did ! Oh, you don't know what a heart poor Benny has ! Oh, if he was only a great rich gentleman, he would do so much for the poor, sir. Oh, I hope you'll find him soon, and put him to school, and give him a good education, and then, may be, he'll make the riches for himself." " You are quite enthusiastic and eloquent in praise of your young friend, my little maid, and no doubt he deserves all your encomiums," replied the pretended minister, who saw in this innocent and confiding little girl his most effec- tual aid in the capture of the boy. " Oh, sir, he does deserve all the good one can say of him ; he does indeed, sir. Poor Benny! he never thinks of him- self; he always thinks of others ! Nothing is too mean for Benny's pity, sir. I've seen him give his own crust to a poor famished dog, and go hungry himself. Oh, I'm so glad he is to go to school ! " 74 A NOBLE LORD. "And you, my little maid, you seem to go to school to some purpose. You speak well," said the disguised detec- tive, wishing to draw the child out. " No, sir, I don't go to school. But I learn how to speak properly through studying my parts." " Your ' parts ! ' " echoed the cunning detective. " My parts in the play, sir. I am an actress, sir. I hope you don't think it very wicked of me to be an actress ? " inquired Suzy, glancing timidly at the professional black coat of the pretended minister. " Oh, not at all, my child ! It is the person, not the pro- fession, that is concerned in Christianity. The illustrious Sarah Siddons was at the same time a good Christian and a great actress," replied the pretended minister. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that!" exclaimed Suzy, with sudden animation; "that's what I want to be just! I want to be a good Christian and a great actress ! For oh ! I do love the church service. I never miss it on Sundays. It warms my heart, and sets my whole soul in a glow. And oh ! I love and honor more than tongue can tell, Him whose very name I reverence too much to speak except ill prayer or praise," murmured Suzy reverently. " How the child talks ! But then she is a little actress the ' Infant Wonder' of the Thespian and that makes all the difference between her and other children," thought the disguised detective, as he gazed at the eloquent face of the little artiste. Then speaking kindly to her he said: " And you also love your art ? " " Oh, yes, yes ; I do indeed ! It makes my heart burn." "And you wish to be at once a good Christian and a great actress ? Well, you can be both." "And I'm so glad to hear that. For Mary Kempton, you must know, told me that I could not be both ; that I couldn't be any sort of an actress and any sort of a Chris- tian at the same time; and that I must either give up my THE DETECTIVE. 75 art or give up my Christianity. She almost broke my heart. What is to become of my family," said the little bread-winner, looking protectingly around upon her father and mother, and her elder brothers and sisters. " What is to become of my family if I give up my art ? " "Certainly, what indeed! It would be very unchristian in you not to provide for them." "Oh, sir, I'm so glad to hear you say so. And you a clergyman too. For oh, sir, it is not only my family that I have been thinking of, but Benny, sir. Poor Benny ! I see ( no light in Heaven or earth ' for poor Benny, unless I succeed in making a fortune on the stage." "And when you have made a fortune on the stage, what then ? " inquired the detective, with a smile. "Oh, then, sir, I mean to provide for my father and mother, and set my brothers up in business, and give mar- riage portions to ray sisters and " The little girl stopped suddenly, but the pretended cler- gyman continued for her : " Then you will marry Benny and so make his fortune ? " " Yes, sir ; and we'll live in a pretty place in the country, with trees and lambs and things that Benny likes. And we'll give away a great deal. ' We will feed the hungry and clothe the poor, And all shall bless us who leave our door, ' said the child, quoting a poem* that she had often recited with great effect, and which, no doubt, had had its influence in forming the best parts of her character. "A very pretty little programme for the future," said the detective, rising, as if about to take leave. Mr. and Mrs. Juniper, out of respect to the supposed min- ister, whom they believed to be professionally catechising and "improving" their daughter, had kept silence during the interview between the detective and the child. * Whittier's Maud Mailer. 7G A NOB L E LORD. Now the interview seemed over, Mrs. Juniper could hold her tongue no longer. Her maternal pride broke forth iu these words : "Which them as is good judges do say, sir, as my gal has great talents for the stage, and is bound to make her fortune when she grows to .be a woman." "There is no doubt of it," said the obliging detective; " and let me tell you, my good woman, that all the greatest actresses and singers in the world have sprung from the same rank of life with your little girl here." "Indeed, sir! Well, it do seem as if the poor and hum- ble ought to have something sometimes to encourage them." "Certainly they ought." " Yes, sir, she's right there where she says she will make a fortune for herself and all her family ; but as to her talk about ever marrying of Benny, that's all nothing but childish nonsense, you know, sir." " Of course ; of course. It is not likely that the future queen of the stage will so lower herself," agreed the com- pliant detective. " As if I hadn't said, over and over again, that success itself would not be sweet unless shared with Benny," said Suzy. " Well, well, we will see," said the detective. " Yes, yes, we will see," agreed Mrs. Juniper. " And I'll tell you all what it's all childish talk, and it's no use to mind it. But let our gal get to years of discretion, and then, fortin or no fortin, fame or no fame, if she's then a mind to marry Benny, blowed if she shan'n't marry him ! If she makes our fortin, must we pay her by breaking of her heart ? And who's got a better right, I'd like to know, to have her own way, than her as wins all our bread ? When she's twenty years old, if she wants to marry Benny, she shall marry Benny ! Blowed if she sha'n't ! Do you hear that, girl ? If you want Benny when you get to be a woman, you shall have Benny !" THEBETECTIVE. 77 " Yes, papa, dear ! " answered Suzy. " Well, now, my friends," said the disguised detective, " [ feel so interested in the future well-being of this lad, that I shall call again to-morrow." " Do, sir, in welcome," replied Mrs. Juniper. "I shall not be here, sir. I am going down to-morrow to commence a week's engagement at the Brighton Theatre with Madame Vesta's troupe. But oh ! I hope you will find Benny! And I shall feel so anxious until I hear. Wouldn't you please condescend to write to me, sir, just one little line, to let me know when you find him ? " " Certainly, rny dear. Where shall I direct my letter ? " " Oh ! to Mademoiselle Zephyriue, care of Madame Vesta, Brighton Theatre, Brighton." " Mademoiselle Zephyrine ? " echoed the detective. " Yes ; that is my stage name. I hope you don't think it is wicked for me to call myself by another name ? " "Nonsense, nonsense, my child. Even ministers of the gospel sometimes preach under their own name and write under another name, that the}- call their nomme du plume, Mademoiselle Zephyrine is your nomme du theatre" said the pretended minister encouragingly. "And indeed I'm so much obliged to you, sir, for setting of her mind at ease on that and her profession too. It was very ill convenient to have Mary Kempton a coming here with the best of intentions, and upsetting of her mind so about its being sinful to act on the stage and that, as the child couldn't reel}' half do her duty," said Mrs. Juniper. " And who is this Mary Kemptou, whom I hear you quote so often ? " " A very good girl, sir, barring her being a bit of a fanatic all along of attending the Eeverend Mr. Sturgeon's preaching," answered Mrs. Juniper. " Oh ! a dissenter. That accounts for it all. But set your mind at ease, my good woman. Your daughter is 78 A NOBLE LORD. fulfilling her duty in that state of life to which she is called." " Oh, sir, you make us so happy when you say that ! And coming from a reverend gentleman like you, of course it sets our minds completely at rest. Suzy, you hear what the reverend gentleman says ? And now you won't worry any more, will you ? " "No, mamma, no more," answered the little girl. The pretended clergyman then took leave, with a promise to come again the next day. And the next morning Suzy joined Madame Vesta's opera troupe at the London Bridge Railway station, and started with them to commence that engagement at Brighton which was to have such a great influence on all her future life. The Junipers left at home watched for Benny, but the boy did not come. The detective, in the disguise of a benevolent clergyman, came every day, only to be disappointed. At length the detective went and reported his ill-luck to the party supposed to be most interested to Captain Faulkner of Woodbine Cottage. " Oh, leave the lad alone ! " said that good-natured good- for-nothing, who had got over his short-lived auger against Benny, and only remembered the affectionate boy's winning ways. " Leave the lad alone. There's been no murder done. Brierly is on his legs again, all right. He never was half so badly hurt as he was scared. And he was scared, badly scared, in spite of his boasted feats of valor in the Indian warfare," added the Captain, with a jolly laugh. " So leave the lad alone ; I don't wish to have him pun- ished, for blame you ! your punishments are ten times worse than the sins punished." " We do not care to get the boy for the boy's sake, sir. But we believe him to be connected, as snakesman, with a baud of burglars to whom we attribute the many daring THE DETECTIVE. 79 robberies of the past month. And we wish to get hira in our hands as a means for the discovery of the band. Young lads are timid, and can usually be terrified into giving up their older accomplices." " I somehow think that Benny cannot be. There is a sort of crude, untrained heroism about the child, that would lead him to sacrifice himself on a false sense of honor to his accomplices," said the Captain. "No. Benny '11 never peach, on a pal," added Master Charley. " There ! " exclaimed the Captain, beginning to lose a little of his good humor. " You see what it is to have a boy of that class in one's house ! Already he has taught my son his thieves' honor in good set thieves' Latin. Pray what is the meaning of " peaching on a pal ?" " Betraying an accomplice," answered the detective. " Telling on a playmate," at the same instant answered Master Charley. " With your leave, Captain, I must still prosecute my search for the boy," said the detective, who thereupon took leave and went a\vay. But days passed and still Benny was not found. Meanwhile Captain Faulkner, through his most unfortu- nate intimacy with Colonel Brierly, was fast relapsing into his former bad habits. He staid out every night to a very late hour. H,e spent about three evenings in the week at the lodgings of Colonel Brierly. Their friendship, if it could be called such, was of the most uncertain quality. Both were hard drinkers. Captain Faulkner, though good-humored, was very reckless in conversation ; while Colonel Brierly was decidedly quarrelsome and insulting, in his cups. A careless jest from the Captain, an insulting repartee 80 ANOBLELORD. from the Colonel, might at any moment break the bond that bound these bonsvivants together. The " impending crisis " came at last. It happened that, one evening, Captain Faulkner was invited to meet a few gentlemen at supper, at the lodging of his friend Colonel Brierly. The company met in due time, and supped sumptuously, the dishes having been prepared after the Colonel's own receipts. Choice wines " graced " the board, and were freely imbibed by the guests. At the end of the supper, when every guest had already drank a great deal too much, Colonel Brierly rang the bell, and ordered a punch-bowl, a kettle of boiling water, half a dozen different sorts of liquors, half a dozen different sorts of fruits and spices ; and having obtained all that was nec- essary to this hell-broth, proceeded to brew his own cele- brated Punjaub punch, which he afterward served out with his own hand to his guests. It was while they were sipping this punch, and agreeing that if the Olympian gods had ever been so lucky as to have tasted this exquisite beverage, they would never have condescended to nectar more, and while they were uttering other nonsense of the same sort, that their host, tete-monte with his punch, suddenly mounted his hobby of marvellous story-telling. On this occasion the scene was changed. It was no longer tiger hunting in India, but deer-stalking in the western wilderness of North America. "Where, sir," he said, addressing more particularly his nearest neighbor at the table, " I was once on leave, and on a visit to a friend stationed at one of the frontier forts commanding the fort, in fact," he added, correcting himself. "A fine country that, by all accounts," said his neighbor. "Fine country, sir!" exclaimed the Colonel, turning off a bumper of punch. "Fine country, sir! You never saw, THEDETECTIVE. 81 heard of, or read of so fine a country in your life, sir ! Stu- pendous forests ! Magnificent game ! I tell you, sir, I have seen forests of titanic oaks, whose boles were yards in circumference, standing scarcely three feet apart, and with their limbs and twigs so interlocked and interwoven as to form an impenetrable green thicket ! Yes, sir! And I have seen bounding through these forests magnificent deer, sir ! majestic creatures six feet high, whose splendid antlers branched ten feet apart! Yes, sir!" exclaimed the Colo- nel, glancing around the table. " Wonderful ! " "Amazing! " " Stupendous ! " So exclaimed all the gentlemen at the table, with the exception of Captain Faulkner, who was in one of his most reckless, jolly and chaffing moods, and who now pursed up his lips and gave vent to a long, low, offensive "Whee-ew!" Colonel Brierly, quarrelsome as usual when in his cups, turned fiercely upon him and demanded : " What do you mean by that, sir ? " " Oh, nothing particular," answered the Captain, laugh- ing. " Death, sir ! Do you mean to doubt my word ? " de- manded the Colonel in a loud voice, and with a heightened color. " Oh, no, certainly not. I never doubt a gentleman's word," replied the Captain, with a very questionable laugh, that infuriated the Colonel. " Then, if you do not mean to impugn my veracity, sir, what the devil do you mean? I insist upon knowing!" exclaimed the Colonel. "Oh, well, if you must know," coolly returned the Cap- tain, " I was but wondering how the deuce those majestic deer, with antlers branching ten feet wide, managed to 5 82 A NOBLE LORD. bound through those magnificent forests where the titanic oak-trees stand but three feet opart." For a moment the Colonel was dumbfounded, and then he exclaimed : " By Jupiter, sir, that was their business not mine, or yours ! " A laugh at this retort went round the table. " You have him there, Brierly," said one. " Ah, yes, he has you there, Faulkner," said another. " So much for asking inconvenient questions, old fellow," added a third. The good-natured good-for-nothing laughed with the rest, and soon forgot the little contest. Not so Colonel Brierly ; he never either forgot or forgave it; though, at the separation of the supper party and the departure of his guests, he received the adieus of Captain Faulkner as politely as he received those of the other gen- tlemen. And the two boon companions met as usual, three or four evenings out of every week. CHAPTER VIII. THE DUEL. Indeed, at last, close scrutiny must show A duel cowardly, and mefln arid low ; And men engaged in it compelled by force. And fear, not courage as its proper source : The fear of tyrant custom, and the foar .l.otit knaves should censure and lest fools should sneer. It. is to trnmiJle on our Maker's laws, To hazard life for any such ill cause. COWPER. AT length the opportunity offered itself to Colonel Brierly to take his revenge, and he took it. The occasion was another little supper, given by a literary Bohemiam at the Red Lion Inn, Strand. T H E D U E L. 83 There were about half a dozen gentlemen present, among whom was Colonel Brierly. The supper was over, and the wine was circulating very freely, when Brierly proposed a game of loo. The table was immediately cleared, and the cards were brought. About three rounds had been played, with more or less luck to each player, and the cards were dealt for the fourth round, and the usual question : " What do you do ? " was asked of each player in succes- sion. " I take ' miss,' " answered Colonel Brierly when the question came to him. " I beg your pardon, but I have taken ' miss,' " said Captain Faulkner, whose turn was before that of Colonel Brierly. "Why didn't you say that before, then ? It is too late now," said the Colonel, taking up the "miss" cards, and putting down his own. " Colonel Brierly," said the astonished Captain, " I did say that I would take it." The Colonel contemptuously shrugged his shoulders. " I tell you, sir, that I did say I would take it," repeated the Captain, flushing to his temples. " Did any gentleman hear Captain Faulkner say that he would take ' miss ? ' " inquired the Colonel, with a tone and manner intensely insulting to the Captain. I did not." " Nor I," answered several. " Did any one ? " persisted the Colonel. It appeared that no one had heard the Captain declare for " miss," though several suggested that the Captain might have spoken, though the}' had not heard him. " There, you see, sir, your assertion is unsupported. None of these gentlemen heard you say that you would take ' miss/ " sneered the Colonel. 84 A NOBLE LORD. " Colonel Brierly," said Captain Faulkner, his face deepty flushing, " do you venture to express a doubt of my veracity ? " " I do." " SIR ! " exclaimed the Captain, changing color. "I do most distinctly assert that I doubt your veracity, Captain Faulkner," scornfully repeated the Colonel. A murmur of disapprobation passed around the table. " Colonel Brierly, there is but one answer a gentleman can make you," said Captain Faulkner, turning deadly pale, as he threw down his cards, arose and left the table. " Let him go," said the Colonel defiantly. " And now, gentlemen, to our game. I take 'miss.' Fitz-John, it is your lead." " Thanks. I shall not play," said Fitz-John, an innocent young Bohemian enough, but with a lion's heart to back a friend, and he laid down his cards, left the table and follow- ed Faulkner, whom he considered to have been insulted without just cause. He overtook the Captain in the hall outside. " Faulkner, you have been grossly and unwarrantably in- sulted. Brierly is a bully and a coward. And whatever you mean to do, I am with you," he said, drawing the Cap- tain's arm within his own. " Thanks, my dear Fritz. I knew you would be with me, and I meant to have sent for you. Thanks, dear old fellow, for your prompt anticipation of my wishes," said the Captain with emotion. " What do you intend to do?" inquired the young man. "My dear Fitz, what but one thing can a gentleman do under such circumstances ? Come with me into the coffee- room. We can find a private corner somewhere there at this hour," replied the Captain. They went together to the coffee-room and found a table in a box, at which they sat down. T H E D U E L. 85 Captain Faulkner called for writing materials, which were supplied to him. " You will go to the scoundrel on my part, my dear Fitz- John, and demand from him a retraction of his words, and a public apology for the public insult he has offered me. Should he refuse, then demand from him the last and only satisfaction he can give me. That he dare not refuse." "No, the miscreant! because he knows he is a dead shot," thought the young man, as he went away upon his errand. Captain Faulkner called for cigars, and sat smoking and waiting for the return of his messenger. Half an hour passed, and then Fitz-John returned, and reseated himself at the table looking very grave. " Well," inquired the Captain. " The scoundrel is stupid and stubborn. He absolutely refused to retract his words, although every man at the table, with one exception, entreated him to do so," replied Fitz- John. " The villain ! I expected this. Of course you told him of the only other alternative ? " " No, I did not. I am with you, as I said, Faulkner, and whatever you do I will see you through it. But I thought, before giving your challenge, I would come back to you once more. You have a wife and children, Faulkner, and that infernal rascal is a dead shot," said j'ouug Fitz-John very gravely. " I know, I know. Poor Molly ! poor babes. But a man's honor should be dearer to him than wife or children, Fitz-John. You will therefore take my challenge to that fellow, and ask him to name some gentleman on his own part to act with you in arranging the details of the meeting." Young Fitz-John once more entreated the Captain to consider well before going further in an affair of so grave a character. 86 ANOBLELORD. But Faulkner was firm of purpose. " You know," he said, " that I am no professed duellist ; so far from being one, I have never in my life been engaged, either as principal or second, in any hostile meeting. Be- sides, I love my wife arid children " Here the Captain's voice broke down, and his face turned pale. " But a man cannot pass over an insult such as I have received. You know it, Fitz-John. Now go, good fellow, and deliver my challenge." " To the worst man and the best shot in England ! " sighed the young man, as he went upon his fatal errand. Captain Faulkner lighted another cigar, and smoked and waited. He waited a full hour, at the end of which Fitz- John once more entered the box, and seated himself at the table, looking even graver than before. " Is it arranged ? " inquired Faulkner, in a low voice. " Yes," replied Fitz-John. " Do you know a place called the Devil's Dyke, down on the south coast, near Brighton ?" The Captain burst into a loud, harsh laugh. Fitz-John looked shocked and inquisitive. " I was only thinking what a deuced appropriate name that is for the ground upon which a duel is to be fought, if it is the ground. Is it ? " " It is the ground. It is a solitary place, well suited to the work." " < Excellently well.' " " The weapons to be used are pistols. We are to leave town quietly, by the midnight express, for Brighton ; on our arrival, to take rooms at the ' Ship' hotel ; and at five o'clock to-morrow morning an hour when the spot is sure to be deserted, and the tide low we are to meet on the sands below the Dyke." "And should there be a fatal termination to the duel, the survivors can easily reach New Haven in time to take the early boat for Dieppe, and thus escape," added the Captain. T H E D U E L. 87 " Yes ; that has been thought of in the selection of the spot," said Intz-John. " What is the hour, old fellow ? " inquired the Captain. "A quarter to eleven." " We have just an hour and a quarter left before we must catch the train. That leaves me about three quarters of an hour in which to settle up all my worldly affairs, sup- posing I had any affairs to settle, which I haven't. I have only to write to Molly poor Molly ! and poor babies ! But old Melliss, when I am gone, will take much better care of them than ever I could have done ; for he only hated me," said the Captain, with a deep sigh, as he drew writing materials before him. He wrote but a short letter to his wife, but it took him a long time to finish it ; for he frequently paused and sighed, as he told her of the insult he had received from Colonel Brierly, and the obligation that rested on him, as a man of honor, to demand satisfaction. He begged her forgiveness for all he had caused her to suffer, and recommended her, in case of his death, to seek the protection of her father for herself and her young family. He concluded with sending tender messages to his children, and he signed himself her " Poor Charley." In a postscript he begged her, if she could possibly avoid it, not to prosecute Benny. H*e folded, sealed and directed this letter, and gave it in charge of Eitz-John, saying : " If I should fall, Fitz, you will take this to my poor wife at Sydenham, and deliver it yourself." " Yes, certainly. But let us look forward to a more righteous end." "After giving that letter to my wife, you will call on Mr. Melliss, the great banker, who lives in Charles street. Tell him that his good-for-nothing son-in-law is killed off out of his way, and ask him, in Christian charity, to look after 88 A NOBLE LORD. his widowed daughter and orphaned grandchildren. Will you promise me that, Fitz-John ? " " Yes, certainly ; I promise to do that, if it should be necessary : but it will not be necessary. We do not mean to have any widows or orphans in the case, or anybody killed out of anybody's way. We intend only to wing our scoundrelly antagonist, to teach him to keep a civil tongue in his head, that's all," said the young man, speaking more cheerfully than he felt. " I believe that is all I have to say now, Fitz. And it must be nearly time for us to be off." " Very nearly. The carriage was ordered at half past eleven to take us to the station, and it wants but five min- utes to that time," said Fitz-John. And even as he spoke, a servant came in and announced the carriage. Both gentlemen arose, took their hats and went out as upon an ordinary journey. They reached the London Bridge station in time to catch the train for Brighton. This train was the last for the night, and it stopped at Sydenham. It was the train by which Captain Faulkner usually returned home, after spending the evening out. He thought of that now, as he went up to the ticket office and took tickets for himself and his friend. He thought of it as he passed Colonel Brierly and his second, who were standing on the platform, waiting for a guard to give them a first-class carriage. By the judicious administration of half a crown to the guard, Captain Faulkner secured a coupe for himself and friend. They had scarcely got seated when the train started. Captain Faulkner felt as if he were going home as usual, to his wife and children. He could scarcely realize that he was going to fight a duel. Very soon the train ran down to Sydenham, which w\s the first station, blew the signal, and stopped. T H E D U E L. 89 Captain Faulkner arose, as if to get out as usual ; then recollecting himself, he sank back in his seat with a groan. Then a sudden impulse seized him to jump from the coupe to the platform, and hurry home through fields and lanes now rich in Autumn's beauty, home to his cozy cottage and lovely wife and little children, and to leave Colonel Brierly to go to the Devil's Dyke, or the Devil himself, alone. But the train started, and his fate was sealed. In due time it ran in to the Brighton station, where a few cabs were still waiting to take late travellers to their desti- nations. Captain Faulkner and Mr. Fitz-John took a cab between them to the "Ship" hotel, where they were followed by Colonel Brierly, his second and the surgeon, in another cab. The whole party ordered rooms, and soon retired. Captain Faulkner and Fitz-John took a double-bedded room between them, and then feed a waiter to bring them coffee at five in the morning, and also to order a cab fcr that hour. These arrangements having been made, Mr. Fitz-John would have persuaded his principal to lie down ; but the Captain said that ho wished to write another letter, and begged that his second would lie down and leave him to himself. Fitz-John then threw off his coat and laid down on the outside of his bed, meaning to watch with his principal. But fatigue soon overcame him, and he slept soundly. Captain Faulkner sat down to write his second letter. This was to Mr. Melliss. ISTow that he was so near an event that might terminate his earthly existence, "poor Charley" was forced into a stricter self-examination than he had ever instituted before. For the first time he felt re- inoree for having first "stolen the old man's daughter/' and then brought her and her children to such misery. He wrote to Mr. Meiliss as he felt, as a dying man ; tell- 90 A NOBLE LORD. ing him that in his present crisis, when all the seriousness of life and death weighed upon his spirit, he felt, for the firet time, the enormity of his pin, and would, if possible, atone for it. He begged the bereaved and outraged father to forgive him, and to forgive his wife, the erring daughter. He said he did not ask that father to protect his widosvi-d daughter and her orphan children, because he knew that father would do so. And he ended, as he had begun, by entreating forgiveness. He folded, sealed and directed this letter, and laid it aside to give to Fitz-John in the morning. Then he threw himself on his bed, not expecting to sleep. Yet sleep soon overtook him, and he slept until he was aroused by the knocking at his door. He and his friend sprang up at the same moment. Fitz-John opened the door, and found the waiter. " If you please, sir, it is five o'clock. Here is the coffee, and the cab is waiting," said the waiter. "All right. Bring the tray in and put it on the table, and let the cab wait," said Fitz-John. " Yes, sir. Any farther orders ? " " No. I'll ring if I want anything." The waiter touched his forehead and went out. " Come, Faulkner. Douse your head into a basin of cold water, dry it with a coarse towel, brush your hair and come to coffee. We can breakfast when we return," said Fitz- John, as he cheerfully set the example of making a hasty toilet. " Yes, when we return ! " sighed Captain Faulkner. Then he took the second letter from the table and gave it to Fitz-John, saying: " Fitz, I feel now as if I would like to be at peace with all the world, even with my unrelenting old father-in-law. Yes, even with that wretched man who is thirsting for my blood this morning, and only because I happened to turn T H E D U E L. 91 one of his boasting stories into ridicule ; for that is the real origin of this duel, Fitz ! Well, wishing to be in charity with all mankind, I have written to ni}' father-in-law. This is the letter. In case I should fall, will you take it to him?" " I will. But come now, none of that ! Take your coffee and brace up !" said Fitz-John encouragingly. They sat down to the little table and drank two or three cups of coffee each. Then they took their hats and went down and got into their cab, and directed the cabman to drive to the " Devil's Dyke." " And not over the downs, but by the beach," said Fitz- Jolm. "But the tide, sir," suggested the cabman. " Oh, it is ebbtide now. It will be low tide by the time we get there. And we shall return before the tide turns. Go on." The cabman touched his hat and went on. A strange weird drive of death was that through the gray of the autumn morning, along the sands of the seashore ; on one side the beetling rocks, on the other the rolling sea. And a long ride it seemed, considering the distance ; but at length they neared the spot. Fitz-John ordered the cabman to stop. And he and Faulkner alighted, taking their pistol-case with them. Fitz-Johu directed the cabman to wait there. And then he drew the arm of his principal within his own, and they both walked on toward the duelling ground. They reached the foot of that yawning chasm known as the Devil's Dyke, and found themselves alone there. "The other party has not come up," said Faulkner. "No. I am glad of it. I am glad that we are the first upon the ground," said Fitz-John. But even as he spoke, they discovered three persons 92 ANOBLELORD. approaching from an opposite direction, and whom they soon recognized as Col. Brierly, his second Mr. Aiken, and the surgeon. They lifted their hats as they approached, and our friends courteously acknowledged the greeting. The seconds Mr. Fitz-John on the part of Captain Faulkner, and Mr. Aiken on that of Colonel Brierly pro- ceeded to step cff the ground and place their principals. They planted their men ten feet apart, standing sideways toward each other, with their backs to the downs, their faces towards the sea. The seconds then retired. An instant afterward Aiken gave the signal. " One, two, three. Fire ! " At the fatal word both antagonists wheeled around and fired. Captain Faulkner sprang into the air, fell forward upon his face, and lay motionless. Colonel Brierly, who was unhurt, forgetting all the "points of honor," threw away his pistol and ran towards his fallen foe. But Fitz-John and Aiken had reached the fatal spot before him. Fitz-John had raised the head of the fallen man upon his knee. " My friend is dead ! " he groaned. " Fly, and save your- self, Colonel Brierly. AFTER THE FATAL DUEL. 93 CHAPTER IX. AFTER THE FATAL DUEL. Since ill-respected honor bade me on, 1 held as little counsel with weak fear As you. What I did, I did in honor, Led by the impartial conduct of my soul ; And never shall you see that 1 will beg A ragged and forestalled remission. SHAKESPEARE. " BEIEKLY, we must fly ! There is not a single instant to lose ! The cab still waits. We must take it and drive like the very demon, if we wish to get to New Haven in time to take the boat to Dieppe!" exclaimed Mr. Aiken, Colonel Brierly's second, speaking in great excitement. "By my soul, I'm ver} r sorry for this ! Is he dead? Are you quite sure?" anxiously inquired the Colonel, of the surgeon, who was kneeling down beside the body of poor Faulkner. " He is quite dead," answered the surgeon. " Brierly, we can do no good here. We shall all be in a devil of a mess, if we don't clear out ! " urged Aiken. 4 ' I know it ! By , I never was so sorry for anything in my life ! " " Sorrow '11 do no good now. Save yourself!" said Aiken, taking the Colonel's arm and hurrying him off the ground. Then seeing that young Fitz-John still lingered, looking upon his fallen friend, he called to him : " Come, Fitz ! Heaven and earth ! Come ! We can wait no longer for you." " Go, then. I have a duty to do here ! " said Fitz-John. " Man ! you'll have duties to do in the Pentonville Peni- tentiary. Do you know what we have been doing will be construed felony by the law, and that it is punishable by imprisonment and penal servitude ? " 94 ANOBLELORD. The young man started! "Imprisonment!" "Penal servitude ! " Horrible fate ! More horrible than death ! And had he really made himself liable to such degradation ? He could have braved pain or death for the sake of re- maining by the body of his fallen friend; but not imprison- ment ! not penal servitude ! He cast a look of sorrow and remorse upon the face of the dead man, and then hastily followed the others. They found the cabs waiting where they had left them. He thought of the letters in his pocket, and of the sol- emn promise he had made his friend, to deliver them to their destination in the event of his death ; but impris- onment! penal servitude! disgrace! He could not meet that. " I will send the letters by mail. That will do quite as well," he said to himself. And he entered the cab, ordered the cabman to drive to New Haven, and promised him a guinea over and above In's fare if he would get him there in time to take the boat for Dieppe. The other cab was already far ahead. His cab bowled along as if life depended on its speed. In a word, both cabs reached New Haven in good time, and the survivors of the fatal duel embarked upon the carty boat for Dieppe, and made good their escape to France. Meanwhile poor Molly Faulkner had passed a restless and anxious night at her home in Woodbine Cottage. She had eat up to a very late hour waiting for her " poor Charley." She had heard train after train blow the signal whistle, as it slowed and stopped at the Sydenham station. And as each in turn came on and stopped, she had said to herself: "There he is now!" And she had waited ten or fifteen minutes, and then sighed and said to herself: " He didn't come by that train ; but he will come by the next." AFTER THE FATAL DUEL. 95 At length, however, the twelve midnight train from Lon- don came shrieking. She thought he was on that train certainly, for, after all, that was the train he usually came down on. And he was on that train, as we know, but he was also on his way down to Brighton to fight that duel. When the train started again, shrieking out of the sta- tion on its way, poor Molly sat and watched and listened, expecting every moment to hear the familiar, welcome sound of her Charley's footsteps coming down the lane, and the pleasant click of the gate latch that always announced his arrival at home. She watched ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, and did not even then give him up. " He may have met some friend at the station, and, late as it is, stopped to talk to him. Poor Charley is the very mischief for talking, both in season and out of season," she said to herself, and she waited five, ten, fifteen minutes more. And then her courage broke down. Charley had not come home by that train, and now it was certain that he would not come home that night, for there would be no other train until morning. Watching, suspense, anxiety, and finally disappointment, completely overwhelmed her spirits. She also felt horribly lonesome and sorrowful. She felt that she must see some one, speak to some one, or die. The clock struck one, with a preternaturally loud detona- tion. She jumped up from her seat by the front window, and walked rapidly into the nursery, where her sleeping children lay. She looked at them in their little beds, and then went on to the cot occupied by her young nurse, Bessy Morriss. " Bessy ! Bessy ! " she said, gently shaking her. " Yes, ma'am ! Please, the baby's all right," answered the girl, half asleep. 96 A N O H L E L O R D. " Bessy ! Bessy ! I'm sick to death. I'm so nervous I could scream. Wake up ! " "Law, ma'am! Whatever have happened?" cried the girl, now thoroughly aroused. "Nothing has happened that I know of, except that the last train from London has gone by an hour ago, and Cap- tain Faulkner has not come in." " Law, ma'am ! he have missed the train, that's all," said the girl consolingly. " Yes, I suppose that is all. But, oh, I'm so nervous ! " " That's along of sitting up so late, ma'am. Please, I think you'd hetter go to hed, ma'am, and sleep it off. The time passes quick in sleep, so it do, ma'am, and before you'll know it, the morning will be here, and the Captain too." "Yes; probably. At least, I think your advice very good, and 1 will follow it," said Mrs. Faulkner. And good little Bessy, though it was no part of her duty to do so, slipped out of bed and helped her mistress to un- dress, and waited affectionately on her until she retired to rest. And poor Mollie Faulkner, ignorant of the trouble in store for her, fell asleep, and for the remainder of the night slept well. She slept until very late in the morning. The young nurse arose at the usual hour, and dressed the children as quietly as she could, that they might not dis- turb their weary mother. Mrs. Faulkner continued to sleep until near noon. Then she woke up, and finding how late it was, immediately rang her bell, which was answered by the little nurse. ' What did you let me sleep so long for, Bessy? Why didn't you wake me up as soon as the Captain came, home?" she inquired. "Please, ma'am, the Capting haven't come home yet; and I let you sleep 'cause I thought you wanted of it," 8aid the little nurse. AFTER THE FATAL DUEL. 97 " The Captain not come home yet ! " echoed Molty, turning pale. "Why, do you see what o'clock it is ? It is nearly twelve, noon ! " " I know it be, ma'am ; but the Capting haven't come." " Oh, my Heaven ! my Heaven ! what keeps him ? What can have happened ? " exclaimed Molly, wringing her hands. " May be, ma'am, he were at one of the Colonel's suppers last night, and is enjoying of one of his bad 'eadaches to- day," suggested the little girl. " That is very, very likely," admitted Moll}'. " In course it is, ma'am. You know, if he had a catched the train and got home, he would 'ave 'ad 'is 'eadache here all right. But as he missed of the train and 'ad to stop in London all night, he got caught with his 'eadache in town, and can't come home till he gets better." "I see! Yes, that must be the reason of his absence. But oh ! these irregularities do cost me so much anxiety ! Oh, Charley, dear, if you knew how much trouble you give me, you wouldn't do it, love ! I'm sure you wouldn't," sighed poor Molly, apostrophizing her absent husband. " I told cook to make some fresh tea and cream toast for you, ma'am. Will I bring it up ? " " Yes ; no, I don't care ! Oh, if I only knew where in. all London my poor Charley is stopping, I would go to him ; but in all London !1' sighed Molly hopelessly. " You may depend, ma'am, if so be he were sick enough to need you, he would find somebody to send for you," said the little nurse consolingly. " Yes, I think he would," agreed Molly. She saw no reason for any extraordinary anxiety now. She reflected how often her erratic Charley had caused her the deepest anxiety for nothing. She was refreshed bj 7 her sleep besides, and so she was the more fitted to be patient. She dressed herself as usual and went down stairs, ate 6 98 A NOBLE LORD. her breakfast, nursed her baby, walked in the garden, played with her children a little, and then came back into the house and sat down to her needle-work, to wait for the hours to pass that would bring the evening, when " Char- ley," recovered from his penal "headache," should return. Still, though she waited calmly, she could not dismiss all anxiety from her mind. Vague fears tormented her at intervals. " What could have happened to him ? " she asked her- self. " Probably a headache, after a revel ! But possibly an- other arrest for debt ! " she answered to herself. "Another arrest for debt ! " This was the very worst she feared for him. The idea of such a calamity as death in a duel never once entered her mind. "And if he were arrested for debt, he would send me word. Oh ! it is only his usual wine headache that has overtaken him in London, because he couldn't catch the last train last night and get home in time to have it here. But oh ! I wish he would come ! I wish I knew exactly where he was, or even where that horrid Colonel Brierly could be found! But I don't know anything about their haunts. Oh, my poor Charley, how much trouble you do give me, my dear ! " So, waiting, sighing and gently complaining, Molly passed the day. Evening came, and the children were called in from their piny in the garden, to get their supper of milk and bread, and to be put to bed. But their mother interposed on this occasion. " I don't want them to go to bed until their father comes in. Remember that they haven't seen him since yesterday morning. Give them their supper, and then wash and dress them nicely, and bring them in here to wait till their papa comes," she said to the young nurse, as she took her place AFTER THE FATAL DUEL. 99 at the front parlor window to wait for the early evening trains, as on the preceding evening she had watched from her bedroom window for the late night trains. After a while the children, nicely dressed, and delighted with the privilege of sitting up for papa, joined her there, and half distracted her mind from her anxiety with their innocent prattle. The gas was lighted in the parlor, hour after hour passed, train after train came shrieking and thundering into the station, and went shrieking and thundering out again, and still he came not. Anxiety was just beginning to be insupportable again, when the sound of carriage wheels was heard in the lane, approaching the house. " That's Charley, at last ! Poor fellow ! he must have been quite ill, to have to get a cab to come from the station in ! Children, papa has come !" said Molly, jumping up as the carriage stopped at the gate. But at that moment little Lily pulled a flower-stand over on herself, and her mother stopped to pick both up, which occasioned a few moments' delay, at the end of which thr young nurse, Bessie Morriss, opened the door and naively announced : " A lady as come in a carriage to see Mrs. Faulkner." Molly started with surprise. A lady to see her! Such a very unusual circumstance ! What could the lady want ? And at such an hour too ? Oh ! she must be some one come to her from dear Charley ! Dear Charley was too ill to come home, so he had sent for her ! Or else he was arrested for debt, and had sent for her all the same ! concluded poor Molly, as a spasm of terror for Charley's safety seized her heart, and in some degree prepared her for what she had to hear. All this occupied but an instant of time. "Did the lady give her name, Bessie?" inquired Mrs. Faulkner. 100 A NOBLE LORD. "No, ma'aru. When I asked her for it, she said I need only say that a lady wished to see you." " Where have you shown her ? " " Please, ma'am, I haven't shown her anywheres. She's standing at the hall door yet." " Bessie ! how stupid of you to leave any lady stand- ing at the hall door! Never do such a thing again ! Show her in at once ! " said Mrs. Faulkner impatiently, and trembling, but more with alarm than from any other cause. The little nurse retired for a moment, and then ushered in the visitor. Mrs. Faulkner turned, and saw standing before her a graceful young woman, elegantly dressed in black. The lady threw aside her vail, revealing a lovely young face, lighted by large tender hazel eyes, and shaded by golden-brown curling hair. "It is Fay Darnmer !" cried little Lily. " Fay-ee Dammer ! " exclaimed Ada. " Fairy Grandma ! " said Charley. And the three children ran to her and seized her skirts. "This lady is our Fairy Grandmother, mamma," ex- plained little llary, as she went up to the visitor and demurely offered her hand. Yes, it was Angela Melliss, the banker's young wife, Molly's hated step-mother, the children's " Fairy Grand- mother." What had brought her here ? We must go back and see. BAD NEWS AT CHARLES STREET. 101 CHAPTER X. BAD NEWS AT CHARLES STREET. Can honor set a lep? No. Or an arm ? No. Or take away the grief of a wound ? No. 8 "Who hath it ? He who died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it ? No. SHAKESPEARE. ABOUT three hours before her visit to Mrs. Faulkner, Angela Melliss had come in from her afternoon drive, and had gone to her room to dress for dinner. As was her frequent custom, she sat down before her dressing-glass, with the evening paper in her hand, that she might look over it while her maid was combing her hair. On this occasion, while glancing down the columns of the paper, she suddenly started, and hurriedly exclaimed : "Put up my hair in any sort of way, Mary, as quickly as you can, and hand me my dressing-gown. This is most horrible ! " "What has happened, dear Madam? I hope nothing dreadful has happened," said the maid impulsively, as she hastily gathered up her lady's golden-brown ringlets, and put them into a net. Mrs. Melliss was trembling too much to answer. She drew on the dressing-gown handed her by Mary, nnd taking the paper from the floor where it had dropped, she hurried with it to her husband's room. The banker was under his valet's hands. " Send your man away, Walter, dear ; I must speak to you," said Angela, dropping into a chair. " Leave the room, John," said the banker, taking the hair-brush from the servant's hand. " Now then, what is it, my love ? " he inquired, as soon as the man had gone. Then seeing how pale she was, he exclaimed: "Good Heaven, Angela ! what has happened?" 102 A NOBLE LORD. " Head ! " she faltered, laying the paper before him on the dressing-table, and pointing to a certain paragraph. The banker took it up and read : " A SHOCKING EVENT NEAR BRIGHTON. Devil's Dyke was, early this morning, the scene of a tragedy. A duel was fought on the spot between Colonel Barrett Brierly, late of the Honorable East India Company's service, and Captain Charles Faulkner, late of the Royal Guards, which termin- ated fatally in the case of Captain Faulkner, who, at the first fire, fell, shot through the heart, and died instantly. The surviving principal of the duel and the two seconds suc- ceeded in making their escape to France. The body of the unfortunate Captain Faulkner is tying at the ' Ship,' where an inquest was held, and a verdict of manslaughter returned against Barrett Brierly as principal, and John Fitz-John and James Aiken as accessories. The cause of this hostile and fatal meeting has not yet transpired." The banker finished reading the paragraph, laid down the paper and looked into the pale face of his young wife. " Where is his widow ? You know, I am sure, Angela," said Mr. Melliss, speaking with forced calmness. " Yes, I know where she is. She is living at Sydenham," replied Mrs. Melliss, in a low, sorrowful tone. " Go, then, at once, my love, and bring her and her chil- dren home. Tell her I forgive " His voice broke down, and his frame shook as with an ague fit. " Tell her any- thing you will, my love ; but if she has not heard of her husband's dreadful fate, do not tell her that. But tell her that she will find him here. I should rather she should be here, in the bosom of her family, when she meets the shock the news of his sudden death will bring. Go to her, Angela. It will be a sorrowful errand, my child, but you will perform it well. I will go down to Brighton by the next train, and BAD NEWS AT CHARLES STREET. 103 see to the removal of the body. The funeral must take place from this house," concluded the banker as he rang the bell. His valet answered the summons. " Order Mrs. Melliss' brougham to be brought around immediately, and send one of the grooms to fetch a fly for me," said Mr. Melliss. And the man, wondering what on earth was the matter, went out to obey his master's directions. " I will go and get ready at once," said Mrs. Melliss, and she arose and returned to her own room. She quickly dressed herself in a black driving dress, and was in the act of di'awing on her gloves whenfa parlor maid rapped softly at the door, and being told to come in, entered and said : " If you please, ma'am, cook says as you are going out just as dinner is ready to be dished, she begs to know your wishes about it." " Oh ! Never mind about dinner, Jane ! I cannot think about that now! Mary Kempton, go and use your judg- ment in the matter," said the lady. The next servant who came to the door announced Mrs. Melliss' brougham. And the lady being quite read}^ for her drive, went down stairs. She found her husband in the hall, waiting to hand her into the carnage. " Be very, very prudent in your mission, my dear Angela ! If it be possible, do not even permit her to suspect the calamity that has befallen her until she is safely housed here," said the banker, as he led her out. " I will do my very best," replied his wife, as he placed her in her carriage. His own ordered fly was waiting. And his servant was standing by with his hat, gloves and shawl. So he took leave of his wife, closed the carriage door, and told her coachman to drive to Sydenham. 104 A NOBLE LORD. Then he sprang into his own ordered fly, and directed the driver to go at his utmost speed to the London Bridge Rail- way station. promisinghim an additional fee if he should catch the Brighton express train. The fly whirled away first. Mrs. Melliss' brougham left the door. As it passed out of Charles street, Mrs. Melliss, looking from the window, saw Rachel Wood turning the corner, with a parcel of work in her hands, which she was bringing home. The banker's wife immediately pulled the check-string and stopped the carriage, and beckoned the seamstress to approach. - Rachel came up to the door, which the footman had already opened for her. " Oh, Rachel, my good girl, I am so fortunate to meet you! Come right in here and sit by me, and I will explain as we drive along," said the lady. The seamstress, much wondering, got into the carriage, and took her seat as requested. " Tell the coachman to drive on," said the lady. And the footman closed the door, gave the order, and resumed his place. "I hope you have the evening at your disposal, Rachel, for I need you very much just now," said Mrs. Melliss. "Yes, madam. I have completed the work you gave me to do, and I was bringing it home when you called me, that is all," said Rachel. "Never mind the work, Rachel. I have a terrible thing to tell you. Captain Faulkner was killed in a duel this morning, and I am on my way to Sydenhani, to bring his poor widow home to her father's house, before breaking the news to her," said the lady. The seamstress gazed upon the speaker in silent horror and amazement. BAD NEWS AT CHARLES STREET. 105 "Heaven and earth! what an awful calamity! Oh, how will you ever tell her? " at length exclaimed Rachel. "How, indeed?" shuddered Mrs. Melliss. "When did you hear this ? How did you hear it ? " in- quired Rachel. Mrs. Melliss told Eachel all that she had learned from the newspaper paragraph. " Oh, Heaven have mercy on the poor widowed wife and orphaned children ! " fervently breathed Rachel Wood. " Heaven has mercy on them, for the heart of the grandfather is moved to send for them and bring them home," said Mrs. Melliss. And then she told Rachel all that had passed on the sub- ject between herself and Mr. Melliss. And the lady and the seamstress talked of nothing but the fatal duel, the dead man and the poor unconscious widow and orphans until they reached Sydenham, and turned into Hawthorne lane. The lights in the front windows of the Cottage drawing- room, placed there for "poor Charley," quite illuminated the house and the upper end of the lane. The scene looked cheerful. But its very cheerfulness depressed the spirits of the tender-hearted women, who knew what sorrow was presently to change all that light to darkness. They had, however, scarcely time to think about it before the carriage drew up at the garden gate before the cottage. The footman jumped down and rang the bell. And Molly's poor little simple maid answered it, as has been said. She could not tell whether her mistress was at home or not; but she would take the visitor's name in and see, she said. But Mrs. Melliss directed her to say only that "a lady " had called to see her mistress. 106 A NOBLE LORD. And the little maid took in the message, and soon re- turned with a request that the lady would walk in. " Come, Rachel," said the banker's wife, as she entered the house. "Dear Mrs. Melliss," said the seamstress, trembling, " give me a few minutes to recover myself. Go on before. I will follow in a moment." The lady then entered the house, and was shown into the drawing-room. She was instantly recognized by the children, who crowd- ed around her with exclamations of: " Fay Dammer ! " " Fay-ee Dranma ! " " Fairy Grandmother ! " " You will kindly pardon my little ones, madam. They know no better than to be so rude in their welcome. And you will please to let me know who it is that honors us with this visit," said Mrs. Faulkner, as she rather formally greeted her visitor. "I come from your father," murmured the banker's young wife, in some embarrassment. " I am aware of that, dear madam. I am also aware that you have often come from my dear father, and that you have been the trusted medium of countless benefits from him to me and my children, though I have never had the pleasure of seeing you before, or even of hearing j T our name. But sit down, dear madam ; please sit down," said Molly, druw- ing forward the best resting chair. Mrs. Melliss accepted the offered seat just as Rachel Wood, recovering from her agitation, entered the room. "Ah, Rachel, you here! I am very glad to see you. You have just come in good time. 1 am sure you know this lady. I wish you to introduce her to me, since she does not introduce herself. She comes from my father again, dear Rachel," said Mrs. Faulkner eagerly. BAD NEWS AT CHARLES STREET. 107 " Madam, have I your permission to tell, at loM ? " in- quired Rachel. Mrs. Melliss nodded assent. She was too much disturbed to speak. Rachel turned to Mrs. Faulkner, who was waiting impa- tiently. " Madam," she said, " this lady visitor of } r ours, who calls herself your children's Fairy Grandmother, and who has been your benefactress from the beginning, and who is now the best friend you have in the world this lady, madam, is Mrs. Melliss, the wife of your father ! " Mollj 7 gazed from the seamstress to the lady, in stupid amazement. " You my father's wife ? " at length she slowly in- quired. " Yes, dear Mrs. Faulkner, I am your father's wife, and his daughter's friend," gently answered Angela. Again Molly stared from the lady to the seamstress, and then she slowly inquired : " You my friend ? What then turned you from being my bitterest enemy into being my friend? " " Dear child, I never was your enemy ! I have always been your friend," answered Angela. Molly stared at her in silent wonder. " I always warned you that you did your young step- mother cruel injustice, Mrs. Faulkner; but you would not believe me without proof, and I was not at liberty to tell you before, what I am happy to tell you now that it was and it always was your step-mother, and no one else, who has helped you in your trouble, and who has heaped upon you the blessings that you are now enjoying, and who has been striving for years to bring about a reconciliation between your father and yourself, but has never succeeded in doing so until to-night." " Dear Rachel," interrupted the banker's young wife, 108 A NOBLE LORD. "you must do my husband justice. He this evening, un- solicited, quite voluntarily, sent me here to ask his daughter to come home with me, bringing all her children." " Oh, Kachel ! " said Molly, piteously clasping her hands " Oh, my dear Each el, is this really true, that you tell me about my step-mother? " " True as truth, Mrs. Faulkner." " Oh, then, how bitterly cruel and unjust I have been in my harsh judgments, and in my deep hatred ! Oh ! how can you ever forgive me, Mrs. Melliss ? " inquired poor Molly. " My child, you have never offended against me ; so I have nothing whatever to forgive. The bugbear of a step- mother that you feared and hated so much was never I, but it was only a grim chimera of your own imagination ! " said Angela pleasantly. "That's so! "eagerly exclaimed Molly, delighted to see such a clear way out of her dilemma; "that's so, indeed! Of course it was never you, it could never have been you, that I hated ; for who could hate such an angel as you ? No one could not even such a little devil as I ! No, indeed, my dear lady ! It was not you I hated ! It was a chimera of my own imagination. You never said a truer thing than that. I had made unto myself an image of a step-mother who had been an old maid, tall, raw-boned, skinny, with a sharp nose and thin lips, and with false hair and false teeth and enamelled complexion, as to her person ; and with a false heart and artful mind and vindictive temper, as to her soul ! And I hated her with all my might. But I never hated you." "No, you never hated me! So, therefore, let us say no more about that. But your father has sent for you to come home to him, with all your children, to-night, my dear. Can you do so ? "