IP ii!liliiilill'ifl^I "H'lvP ' llriv- II ! WMWM ' Watt J r ; l i PJl THE GOLDEN BAIT. BY HENRY HOLL, AUTHOR OF " THE KING'S MAIL," "THE OLD HODSE IN CROSBY SQUARE,' "MORE SECRETS THAN ONE," "THE WHITE FAVOUR," ETC. ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : T1NSLEY BROTHERS, 18, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND, 1871; [All rights of Translation and Reproduction are reierved.li LONDON : 8ATILL, EDWABDS AND CO., PBINTEBS, CHAND03 STBEE7 COVENT GARDEN. WILLIAM BEVAN, OXE OF THE BEST OF THOSE ON WHOSE KINDNESS WE CAN ALWAYS DEPEND, AND WHOSE FRIENDSHIP IT IS A PLEASURE TO REMEMBER, THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED BY HIS OLD FRIEND, HENRY HOLL. 220S982 CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. CHAP. PAGE I. NEWS FROM ABROAD 1 II. HOME 20 III. THE STRANGER AND HIS " DOG" .... 37 IV. A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS 49 V. " THE MILITARY TUTOR" Go VI. LOVE ON BOTH SIDES 74 vii. " THE CASKET" 95 VIH. ANGUS MACLEOD 112 IX. AN UNEXPECTED CLAIM 127 X. A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS 141 XI. THE GREEN LANES 161 XII. BREAKING THE ICE 189 xin. MRS. RUSHBROOK'S LETTER 205 XIV. GOING SOUTH 217 XV. A NIGHT AT THE CASTLE 236 XVI. A FRIENDLY MEETING . 255 XVII. A LITTLE OUT OF ORDER . . 2G9 THE GOLDEN BAIT. CHAPTER I. NEWS FROM ABROAD. THE day had been unusually calm for that late season of the year when the equinoctial gales were at their height, and autumn was drawing to a close ; but towards evening the wind blew fitfully and in gusts, the glass had fallen, and the general appearance of the sky indicated some remarkable change. The sunset was a fiery haze ; a heavy bank of cloud rose in the horizon, followed by a flash or two of lightning and a rumbling of thunder ; the sky had a leaden look, and the night a threaten- ing, stormy appearance. The sun had scarcely set before a south-east wind sprang up a wind of such unusual vio- lence as to tear that bank of cloud into a thou- sand pieces, drive it and scatter it, and at a single burst cover the heavens with flying masses, until the stars could hardly be distinguished, so trem- VOL. I. 1 2 NEWS FROM ABROAD. bliug was their light, and so tumultuous the dense dark patches tossing and rolling between the earth and them. The wind ceased as suddenly as it came. There was no motion, and no sound. But the moon came out, and the night promised after all to pass away in quiet. The lull was only momentary. The wind rushed by again; another cloud rose up, spread- ing and spreading, until its accumulated vapour blocked out the view to windward, obscuring the moon, and blotting out the stars. A drenching rain came down, but after a few minutes left off. Then it rained as heavily as before ; the sound as of a mighty torrent filled the air ; the thunder rattled, and the lightning flashed ; the terrific wind swept by with almost unexampled fury, and a general commotion of the elements threatened serious consequences by sea and land. There was one who heard that blast with fear and trembling; and, listening as she worked, tried to fix her attention to the task she had in hand, to shut the tumult out, and convince her- self she fancied the wind was rougher than it really was, because she dreaded it, and had reason to apprehend danger from its violence. She knew her husband would be afloat at that, par- NEWS FROM ABROAD. 3 ticular time, and his ship exposed to all the fury of the storm unless by some providential inter- position it raged less wildly out at sea than on land, or, favoured by the trade winds, he had arrived in port before that dreadful gale sprung up, blowing directly in his teeth. Listening till she was well nigh crazy, and working without quite knowing at what, she felt the impossibility of sitting any longer ; but put- ting down her needlework, went to the house- door and looked into the street. The night looked wild and dark, the gutters were full of water ; the roadway was almost im- passable ; the wind swept in at the open door with a cold, icy chill, and forced her back- wards as she stood to watch if she could see any signs of the tempest abating. But there were none ; and glad to get into the house again, she closed the door, and coming back into the room tried to resume her sewing. The rain dashed against the windows as she drew her chair up to the table and sat down to work ; but, blinded by her tears when she thought of her husband and the terrors of that night, she made little progress, though she seemed to work incessantly, and as if she gave her whole attention to it. There were two other sitters in that room, 12 4 NEWS FROM ABROAD. one by the side of the fire-place, and the other opposite her mother. They were fair, and had delicate complexions, though the one next the fire had darker hair and a more staid and womanly appearance than her sister. They had the same cast of features, and bore the same resemblance to the mother the mother bore to them, though neither possessed that peculiarly striking countenance which distinguished her, which, while it could not be said to be posi- tively austere, could on no account be pro- nounced cheerful or agreeable. There might be an affectionate disposition and a goodness of heart hidden under that look of gravity, but a stranger was by no means bound to expect it, nor to hope for it, when looking on that forced solemnity, that severity of aspect, and that fixity of features she seemed to have acquired by habit, and not from any freak of nature. The outline was the same in each, but each different ; the mother's face being more marked and formal, more starched and prim, and as though a scrupulous adherence to religious exer- cises had made her almost unconsciously assume a staidness of demeanour and a coldness of man- ner, by way of reminding her daughters that they ought to be less frivolous, but should fol- low her example, and become as indifferent, if NEWS FROM ABROAD. 5 not as positively averse to the vanities of the world as herself. Sitting half in shadow, half in light, in the chimney corner, and in the dim light thrown on her from the lamp looking at something she held in her hand, the eldest daughter did not seem to be aware of the drenching and the driving on the windows ; of her mother's going out of the room, nor of her return to it, pale and dejected. She was so engrossed with the earnest, though stealthy inspection she fixed upon that carefully concealed something, she appeared to prefer the shade she sat in, and the opportunity it afforded for secret gazing (and for holding her hand in such a manner that the firelight should fall on it, whilst she kept her back towards the lamp) ; she neither noticed the clattering of the storm, nor the few words her sister addressed to her, nor paid the least atten- tion to anything. Her sister sat at the same table with her mother, busy with needle and thread, scissors, and a paper pattern, which latter seemed to try her patience and put her out, in her attempts to make it do exactly as she wished. But as at times she had to shift and alter it, to place it first one way, then another, sh> could not help observing her mother's melancholy look, and G NEWS FROM ABROAD. that her eyes were full of tears, while her sister appeared to be too earnestly engaged in gazing at her lover's portrait to notice anything but that. They were soon to be aroused from this domestic lull, as, startled by a gust of more than ordinary violence, and by a blast that shook the house, the mother called on her daughters to join her in prayer to the Almighty, that He might be pleased to save her husband, and pro- tect him in the fearful rush of wind and wave to which he was exposed. " It is only He can help us now/' she cried. " His voice can still the winds and waters, rock the ship gently as an infant's cradle, and in the midst of peril save all who trust in Him who love and worship Him, who put their faith in Him, and live in obedience to His will." As if to mock their prayers, and tell them their supplications were in vain, a wilder gust than ever filled the air ! A crash as of a roof blown off, or a house thrown down, rang through the streets, while the raging tempest swept along as if howling and moaning over the mischief it had caused. " It is enough. God's will be done !" said the mother, rising to her feet. " But, dear mother, storms are seldom felt on NEWS FROM ABROAD. / sea and land at the same time. The wind was quite as bad a fortnight ago, and though the newspapers made a great talk about it, no particular harm came of it, as I can hear/' said the elder daughter, thinking to comfort her. ee I remember the storm you mean well enough without being reminded of it, and all that was said about it, Margaret. But that is nothing to the purpose. We are not speaking of that storm, but of this, which to my mind is quite as bad, if not worse, for the wind is more gusty to-night, and, coming in a sudden sweep, is far more dangerous, as your father could tell you if he were here which, please God, he soon will be, and never go to sea again." " He was quite determined upon that the last time, mother, when he kissed us and bade us all good-bye. I remember as well as possible his saying ' One more voyage, and I shall have made enough to settle down and live at home ; for I have had enough of it, and don't intend to go to sea again/ " " Bless all poor houseless creatures in their need to-night, and give them warmth and shelter \" cried the mother, a little more calmly, but with an equally devout expression. " But the wind has fallen. It comes less wildly than it did, though 8 NEWS FROM ABROAD. out at sea it is utterly impossible to say how it may rage, or what mischief it may occasion in a different part of the world." " But father must be close at home by this time, and as he was to sail eight weeks ago, he is most probably in the Bristol Channel or safe in port at the very moment we are making ourselves so wretched about him, and crying our eyes out without quite knowing why." " Or on the wide Atlantic, tossed and driven at the mercy of the elements ! But your father is a good seaman. He is a wise and experienced master, and, as the owners know, no man is more competent to take command of a West India trader than Captain Rushbrook." At this turn given to the conversation, Mrs. Rushbrook was easily persuaded to resume her sewing, and to speak in a more cheerful manner of her husband, and the hope she entertained of his return ; and as her daughters were glad to talk of their father, and of the happiness they hoped to enjoy when he came home for good, their chatting took an almost lively turn. " Wont it be delightful to have him always at home, dear mother? And wont you, after all, have reason to be thankful you married a sailor, if only for the pleasure of talking to him about his voyages, and of the time he was away, when NEWS FROM ABROAD. 9 you were so wretched you did not know what to do ?" said the younger daughter. " I have been so little used to comfort, Bertha, it is time I had a prospect of being able to settle down and say J have a husband. Heaven knows I have had little comfort of a wedded life as yet. I have hitherto only known its cares and anxieties. " " But when dear father did come home, were you not doubly happy ? and though he was a\vay at times, I am sure his absence only made you long with your whole heart to have him with you once again. At least, I know I should have felt so/' said Margaret, glancing at her lover's portrait. " I should have been infinitely happier if he had never been away, or if I had thought dif- ferently in my youth, and reflected on the wretchedness I should have to endure as the wife of a man so constantly exposed to danger as your father. Now, soldiers and sailors are no doubt generous and brave, but they are not domesti- cated men ; their very professions prevent their being so, for they can never calculate how long they may be at home, or when their duties may call them away at an hour's warning to go on foreign service, or to make a voyage." " You did not always think so/' said Margaret, half sorrowfully, yet half reproachfully. 10 NEWS FROM ABROAD. "No, or I should have acted differently. I should certainly not have married your father had I known what I know now, or could I have foreseen the years of misery I should have to experience as the wife of a seafaring man." " But you did not think of it, mother, and even if you had thought of it, I very much question if you would have acted differently. You would have married father in spite of all, if you really loved him, as of course you did; and I should have thought the very last thing you would have thought about was what you were speaking of just now." " Whatever I may have thought, I trust I had sufficient prudence to conceal it, and not let others see it. There is no difficulty in knowing what your thoughts are, or that at this very moment you are thinking of that young Arkwright, whose addresses you have been foolish enough to encourage in spite of my well-known objection to his profession, which is quite as likely to entail on you as serious consequences as those I have endured as the wife of a sailor." " But not if his wife accompanies him and is a participator in his cares. She at least would have no reason to complain of absence. She would be with him, mother, and, if living abroad, NEWS FROM ABROAD. 11 could hardly be said to be so unfortunate as you have been in those dreadful separations of which you have so much reason to complain/'' "A pretty tale for children and for people ignorant of the world. Can a soldier march with wife and children at his heels ? Can he be pre- sent at their beck and call, or expected to cling to them, when he has his duty to discharge, or to engage in battles in which he may be shot down, as thousands have been before him, and leave his helpless wife and little ones to lament his loss ?" " And if so, mother," said her daughter, shud- dering while she pretended to be firm, " would it not be better to know the worst at once, rather than live in ignorance of his fate, or only hear of it after you had indulged in hopes that he was living still, and trusted day by day to have him back with you again ?" " Better not marry, then, than run the risk. Better wait and see what fortune offers in some other lover who is not called upon to run the hazard of an untimely death, as this young man must run his hazard, and as your father has run his a dozen times in a year. I tell you, Margaret, *I would not willingly sec a child of mine torn from me by any marriage that could offer, if she is to live a thousand miles away, instead of being 12 NEWS FROM ABROAD. close at hand, and where I could know of her welfare at a moment's notice." " But other girls have married so." " As I did, and repented not of my choice, nor of your father as a man, for I always found him kind and good, affectionate and true. But kindness and affection are not the sum of all a woman hopes for in a husband. He must have the opportunity to show his kindness and his love ; and when she marries she does not look for constant separation, or a meeting once in a year. She does not know, she cannot know, except by bitter experience, the miseries of such a life, nor what dreadful things the separations are that follow such meetings. No ; husband and wife, to be truly happy, should be as much together as a man's business will allow. Should they be kept too constantly apart, or only meet at stated intervals, it follows as a natural con- sequence that the bond gets loosened which otherwise would have kept them close, and made the one indispensable to the other/' " But mother " " I have told you of my sufferings ; therefore take warning by my experience of what must as surely come to you, if you marry this young man, as night follows day. I have told you of my misery, of my constantly increasing fear, and NEWS FROM ABROAD. 13 how, with each commotion of the elements, I have trembled all the time your father has been away. I am not a weak woman ; I am not a nervous woman ; but I tell you that, much as I found fault with it and rebelled against it at the time, I would rather have endured my aunt's scolding all my life than listened for one hour to that midnight sighing, those solemn dirges, and those fearful moans, sounding for all the world like the shrieks of dying men, or of poor unhappy creatures struggling with the waves, I have too constantly listened to ever to live in hopes of forgetting/' Margaret saw by her mother's excited manner that the time was not a proper one to say any- thing in opposition to her views, or in favour of her own. She therefore held her peace. Her sister was not so prudent. By calling her mother's attention to the different arrange- ments they should have to make on their father's return for good, she hoped to spare Margaret the repetition of a lecture which had grown painful by its frequency, and that the poor girl might be saved all further trouble for that night at least if she put in a word or two by way of changing the conversation. But at the mention of her husband's name, Mrs. Rushbrook took the opportunity to call the conversation back to its original subject, and 14 NEWS FROM ABROAD. silencing Bertha by a wave of the hand, she said " Your father's return home is no doubt our first consideration, and one we should think about in preference to all others if God so wills he shall return at all ! when, as I have told your sister here a dozen times, we must abide by his arrangements to regulate our future movements. In his last letter he said he had embarked nearly the whole of his savings in his present freight, and by taking advantage of a dull market abroad hoped to realize a large profit on his outlay, and settle down in peace for the remainder of his days. It will be time enough when he comes back to enter upon the discussion as to whether this Mr. Frederick Arkwright (who appears to have nothing in the world to recommend him but a miserable ensigucy) is a husband he would choost for his daughter, and whether he thinks she has acted rightly in encouraging his addresses unknown to her mother, and in opposition to her wishes. Let him once come home " A loud and unexpected knocking at the street door, and the servant coming to say that a gen- tleman had left a letter and a packet, with par- ticular directions that they should be delivered to Mrs. Rushbrook immediately, put a stop to further talk of Margaret's imprudent conduct, NEWS FROM ABROAD. 15 and the terrible consequences foreshadowed by her mother should she be wilfully determined to adhere to her engagement. Having glanced at the direction on the letter, and not recognising the handwriting, Mrs. Rush- brook began to wonder who it could be from, and what on earth the man could mean by writing to her, he being a perfect stranger, and having no possible business with her that she was aware of. She was about putting the letter on one side, when happening to turn it over, she observed a very handsome seal impressed on the outside, and was instantly inclined to regard it more favourably for that circumstance. She therefore placed it carefully on the table, took up the packet, and uttering an exclamation of surprise, began to open it with nervous trepidation, telling her daughters that it was from their father, and wondering more and more what the letter and the packet could be about. The time required to open the packet gave Margaret- and her sister the opportunity to press up to their mother's side and anxiously await the sight of its contents. It was what they little ex- pected, or their mother either, who could scarcely believe her eyes when she saw a parcel of bank- notes, folded round a letter, fall into her lap. 16 NEWS FROM ABROAD. The notes were fastened round the enclosure by a piece of twine, and when that was untied, the rather bold hand of the Captain was at once recognised by both mother and daughters on the outside of the letter. What it could be about, or why her Robert should have sent her the money, she could not conceive. Opening the letter without a word, Mrs. Rushbrook ran her eyes over it, and scanning the contents, saw that it was dated " Kingston, Jamaica, August 1st, 1834," and the summary of its contents as follows : Captain Rushbrook was no coward, but like all sailors he was superstitious, and as he had to make his homeward voyage in a ship more deeply laden than he could wish, and not in such good condition as she ought to be, he had hastily en- closed what money he had about him in a packet, and entrusted it to a friend's care to bring over to his wife, so that in the event of any misfortune happening to him in his voyage, she would at least receive the remainder of his savings, and the whole of what he had to send after paying for the extra cargo with which the Nancy was freighted rather more heavily than usual. She read thus far quietly enough. But as he still dwelt on his strange forebodings, and of apprehensions for the safety of his voyage, she - NEWS FROM ABROAD. 17 turned to her daughters with an uneasy look, and read aloud the remainder of the letter. " If/' he wrote, " all goes well with me, why this letter costs little trouble, and can do no harm. If, on the contrary, I should meet with ill luck, I shall at least have done a wise man's part in trusting what I have left to a friend to take to you. You will know him as an honour- able, though strangely-tempered man : frank, yet suspicious ; open, yet doubting ; but where he takes a liking, an earnest and a constant friend. I have entrusted to him what I know will reach you safely, and also have confided to him certain directions I think may be of use to you should my last voyage prove my last indeed. One thing, however, I earnestly entreat of you and I beg it may be considered as my dying wish should my ship go down, and the one he sails in reach England, you will manage to contrive it so that Margaret and he may come together. He is rich, and above all he is successful ; and I am quite certain of one thing, that Margaret could not do better than marry him, as he is worthy of her in all respects, and a highly honourable man." Hoping and despairing at the same time ; anxious for her father, and tremblingly alive to the uncertainty of her own future, Margaret VOL. i. 2 18 NEWS FROM ABROAD. turned towards her mother to observe the im- pression made on her by the letter, when to her surprise she saw her sitting with the notes and paper crumpled in her hand, her eyes fixed on the ground, and in a half unconscious state, ap- pearing scarcely to know why she held them in her hands at all, or if indeed she had just read the letter they had listened to with so much bewilderment. Then all at once, and as if some painful thought had seized upon her, she quivered from head to foot, threw down the notes and paper, and turning to the letter still lying unopened on the table, snatched it up and began to tear it open, but paused in terror as soon as she had broken the seal. That letter, that forgotten and insignificant letter, she had at first regarded so suspiciously, and felt half inclined to toss into the fire, had now become a thing of fearful consequence. It contained, as she now began to fear, some dread- ful tidings, some unexplained and mysterious message respecting the husband and the father, and anxious to be informed, yet dreading the worst, she could scarcely summon courage to open it. At last, and after a painful effort to control herself, she spread the letter open, glanced hur- NEWS FROM ABROAD. 19 riedly down the page, then with a fearful shriek fell back fainting in her chair, holding the fatal letter in her hand, and nervously clinging to that by which she had been informed of her hus- band's loss, and that all on board his ship had perished with him. 22 CHAPTER II. HOME. THE writer of the letter had not explained par- ticulars ; he had merely stated the melancholy fact of her husband's loss, and begged to be per- mitted to pay his respects to his friend's widow in the course of a few clays, when, as he said, he would offer such consolation as lay in his power, and acquaint her with the Captain's lates^ wishes. The bank-notes sent in the packet were easily counted, and would supply them with the means of living for a year or two at most. The rest was left to chance, and to their future industry to honestly gain a livelihood the best way they could unless, indeed, Margaret could be per- suaded to avail herself of the unexpected oppor- tunity so strangely presented to her by the stranger's arrival, not only to insure her own fortune, but to benefit her family at the same time. But would that fortune chance ? Would he, the writer of that letter, so soon be captivated, or, presuming that he should be, would she HOME. 21 receive his addresses and accept his offer as a sensible girl should? Busy with these reflections, and occupied by schemes she thought likely to promote her own and her daughter's welfare, Mrs. Rushbrook never reflected if the stranger's addresses might prove agreeable to Margaret. She had her own view respecting her, and resolved, provided her husband's friend wished to become connected with his family, not to be dissuaded from it by any girlish waywardness on her daughter's part. A match with a man so wealthy and so well disposed towards them was more than enough as she conceived to recompense Margaret for anything she might have to suffer in consequence of a change of lovers ; and, as she had always set her face against her present admirer, the way was open to a second one, who, she felt con- fident, would be found in all respects a most in- teresting and agreeable person. Could Margaret have been prevailed upon to think so too, all difficulty would have been avoided. Instead of which, the bare suggestion of what her mother more than once alluded to filled her with uneasiness. Her father, she thought, would have been more considerate had he been alive. He would not have sacrificed her against her inclinations; but now he was 22 HOME. dead, and the fate of Frederick and herself depended, not on him, but on her mother, and the machinations of this horrible stranger, she felt called upon to exercise a powerful constraint over her feelings, at the same time that she silently resolved to be constant to her old lover, in spite of anything the new one could persuade her to the contrary. Strengthened by her love, determined to be true, and to arm herself against all fear of wavering, she placed the miniature next her heart and endeavoured to forget her cares in sleep ; or failing sleep, then to reflect on the painful nature of her position ; on her father's untimely death, and her threatened separation from her lover. Should she be forced to give him up, abandon all her girlish hopes, and, actuated by a sense of duty, forego her own desire, simply to" aid the plans of others ? Should she, so willingly and romantically betrothed, be forced to give him up, and leave her to be won by some one else ? by that stranger, who, like some evil genius, had come, first to tell them of her father's death, and then perhaps to profess his love for her ! He might not after all be attracted by her, even though they wished he should be. There HOME. .26 was no reason why lie should ; she did not see the slightest probability of it, and would never have thought of it but for her father's letter, and his express wish that she should be that stranger's wife that jealous, doubting stranger, who, from what her father had said of him, was the last person in the world she could like. And then, again, who was he, and what was he? Was he fair or dark ? generous and brave, or simply purse-proud and vain ? A factor, or the owner of an estate one who, having made a fortune, was content to accept the compensation paid for the emancipation of his slaves, and, satisfied with his wealth, willing .to settle down and marry an English wife. It might be so, and presuming she were the one selected, what an opportunity she would have to ease her mother's necessities, make her sister happy by her sacrifice, enable her to suit her affections to her fancy, and marry, as she could never hope to marry, her first and only love. Perplexed and ill at ease, anxious to promote the welfare of her family, yet miserable in her- self, a week or more went by ; her mother silent and dejected, her sister thinking only of her father, and calling to her mind repeated acts of his parental fondness. Nor was Margaret in- 24 HOME. different to his claims on her affection. She knew how dearly he had loved them, and how he had encountered hardships and a life of peril for their sakes. She knew all this, but though she grieved for him, and revered his memory, she could not avoid reflecting on her own un- happiness, nor help thinking of some one else perhaps, whose gentleness and kindness had won her to betroth herself to him, and trust her heart to him in preference to all others. But as time flew by, and several days elapsed without receiving the promised visit, she began to fancy that the stranger had forgotten all about them, or was too much occupied to cast a thought upon that seaman's wife and daughters, to whom he had simply been the bearer of a message, but that discharged, troubled himself no further about them, nor cared whether they lived or died. She almost hoped that this might prove the case, and that he would forget they even lived. Yet, spite of her indifference, she felt a latent curiosity to know what he was like, and if he were really so very rich as her father had re- ported him to be. It did not matter if he were as rich as Croesus, as far as she was personally concerned. It was not his wealth which tempted her; but a feverish anxiety to know, if, seeing HOME. 25 her, lie would be likely to be won, and, pro- vided he became enamoured of her, then to ascertain how far he might presume on her cold reception to declare his passion for her. But at the end of a fortnight Mrs. Rushbrook grew restless and impatient, and began to think that the stranger might at any rate have found time to call, if only to relieve her anxiety, and tell her what he knew respecting her husband and his terrible fate. She was anxious to know about Margaret too ; if there were any chance of his taking a liking to her, and of her liking him. Situated as they were, it became imperative to know what she had to expect and what to do, now her husband was no more, and she had to depend chiefly on her own exertions for the future. She had no heart to work she had no patience to read; her eyes ached with weeping, and alto- gether Mrs. Rushbrook was in a most unhappy state of mind. The lamp was burning on the table ; Margaret was sitting in her old corner by the fire, and Bertha opposite her mother, trying to work, but looking so sad and miserable, the poor girl could do little else but cry, or think of anything but her father. The room was still as death ! A moan or two, the click of the needle, and a suppressed sigh from Margaret, were all that broke the silence, 26 HOME. whilst the black dress of the mourners made the apartment doubly solemn ; giving it a melancholy look, and telling the tale of recent loss as plainly as if the Captain's coffin had been in the room and his dead body lying in it. An unexpected knocking at the street-door broke the silence, and rousing them from their despondency called the blood into their faees only to leave them pale and trembling when they re- membered how once before they had heard that knock, and, on hearing it again, presumed that the stranger had called according to his promise to tell them all he knew about the Captain,, and of his being lost at sea. He was in the passage, and inquiring for her mother ; and, judging of him by his voice, Margaret disliked him before she had seen him then pressed the miniature closer in her hand, and, strengthened by the very touch, thought that, however brave and bold that man might be her father had selected to be her husband, she had sufficient courage to preserve her resolution and reject him, unless But before he entered the room before the servant had time to show him in the thought came stealing over her that that stranger had been the last to see her father in the world alive the last to say good-bye to him. and the last to HOME. 27 shake his hand before he embarked upon that fatal voyage ! Then looking at her mother and her sister, thought she saw the same sad thought possessing them, and felt that they were as ner- vously affected by the same emotions as herself. He came into the room with an almost noise- less step, and advancing to meet her mother, took her hand in his, and led her to a seat when he saw with what difficulty she supported her- self, and that she burst into a flood of passionate broken-hearted tears on seeing him. His manner was so gentle, his look so full of sympathy, and his bearing so manly, Margaret almost forgot her prejudice out of respect to the consideration he showed to others ; then resuming her seat she tried to read his character, and con- vince herself that after all his tenderness and consideration were nothing but what might have been expected from one who had known her father, and that her original impression was the right one, notwithstanding the little wavering she felt at the sight of his emotion, and the sympathy he showed to their distress. Faltering as she bade him welcome to their disconsolate home, the widow begged him to excuse the state in which he found them, " though in a little time," she said, " she hoped they should recover themselves and be able to treat him with 28 . HOME. the consideration he deserved ; not only for bringing over the packet, but in calling to ac- quaint them with her poor husband's wishes." But at the mention of her husband her tears broke out afresh, so that what with sobs and tears the poor woman could hardly say a word. " You are no doubt aware/' the stranger said, when she had recovered herself a little, " through the contents of the packet I had the honour to leave for you, that Captain Rushbrook com- missioned me to inform you of certain matters interesting to you and your family, and of his last wishes if by any chance his voyage turned out badly/' " Oh ! yes ; and of his strange forebodings, sadly realised ! sadly and grievously made true." " It was a strange superstition. But sailors, as we know, indulge in omens ; and a crooked sixpence or a child's caul are in their eyes matters of serious import. The Captain, as a rule, was less given to notions of this sort than most. He had a brave and enduring spirit, and it was with sincere regret I heard of his untimely end when all things promised so fairly for the future." " It is very sad," replied the widow, struggling with her tears. " Time comes we all must die/'' replied the HOME. 29 stranger ; " but to go down so suddenly, so help- lessly, and like a puny float dragged under by some mighty fish, has something awful in it ; and then to watch the fearful lurch a vessel makes when swallowed in a trough of the sea to watch her slowly sink and then go out of your aching eyes once and for ever, is enough to make the stoutest tremble, be he landsman, sailor, saint, or sinner/' " And did you see all this ?" " I did, but was powerless to assist. There were plenty of stout hearts and hands to lend their aid if the thing could have been done, but it was hopeless ! We had enough to do to keep ourselves afloat, and as the tempest had by this time reached a higher pitch than ever, it became necessary for our own preservation to keep good sea-room and put the ship's head before the wind." "And could none be saved? Did they all perish ?" " All. That is, unless I count the one I managed to rescue." "You saved one and not him?" " I wish it had been, with all my heart. I would willingly have thrown the other back again to have held the Captain hard and fast. But it was not to be. Down with his ship he went, and may Heaven have mercy on his soul \" 30 HOME. " But this one you saved ?" " A strange, incomprehensible creature, whose fear of death had grown into a sort of madness ; yet, strange to say, his madness taught him how to struggle for his life and make an attempt to save it, whilst other men sank down despairing to their end. You see the ship I sailed in was a quicker vessel than the Nancy, and though we left Kingston Harbour several days later, it was expected that we should arrive in England as soon, if not sooner than the Captain that is, if all went well and no mishap befel us on the way/' " But this poor drowning man ?" " We came up with the Nancy within about a fortnight's sail of England. A south-west wind had blown our topsail into shivers and carried our foremast by the board. Still we kept our course, and, thanks to a trim-built ship, made good headway, and rode the tempest through. High mounted as a house at times, then ducked below, and sliding down a watery hill, we rose or fell, and by good luck continued still to rise or sink with safety." " And so you came up with the Nancy ? :> "We found her water-logged and mastless, the awful waves making a clean breach over her, and smothering her in foam." HOME. 31 " And tliis was all you saw ?" " All but the misty clouds above and the boiling sea below, whirling and tossing and churning round the ill-fated vessel as if to suck her down and drag her to the bottom. There appeared no chance of lowering a boat in such a terrific sea, but they did it somehow, and we could perceive a crowd of frightened wretches struggling to get in her. But scarcely was she afloat, and before they could get clear of the ship, a mighty wave drove her against the vessel, stove in her side, and left the unhappy creatures to their fate." " Horrible ! Horrible !" " And then a pitchy darkness spread the face of sea and sky ; a mist so intense and over- whelming, that while it lasted we could distin- guish nothing, but had to strain our eyes to see a yard before us ; and when, that passed, when the sea-fog was lifted by the wind, and the tem- pest came with a fresh rush as if to sweep the ocean and lash it into greater fury a deadly fear arose, that during the passing of that blind- ing mist the helpless vessel had foundered, and all on board had perished." " You saw her still ?" "AVe looked, and turning anxiously about, found to our horror that she had disappeared ! 32 HOME. hull, masts, and spars vanished from the sight, and a wide sweep of foam spread like a winding- sheet over the dead and gone, the drowned and castaway." A few minutes elapsed before he could re- sume. During the last few words the distress of the widow and her daughters had painfully increased, and the stranger himself appeared to be considerably affected on recalling the scene he had witnessed. " There was no time to be lost, and in case some struggling wretch might rise up to the surface, we beat and tacked about as far as we dare do ; kept a sharp look-out, and trusted to a fortunate chance to rescue some of the sufferers, but found our search in vain. Hencoops, water- casks, spars and rigging, swept by in plenty, but far as we could see, no human form appeared, and no trace of the ship's crew, dead or alive. "We were about giving up all hope, when, casting a last look round, I thought I saw a man clinging to a piece of timber, making frantic efforts to save himself, and screaming horribly. Hoping we might be able to rescue him, I called to him to hold fast, and throwing overboard a grating lashed to a line, saw it sweep close by him." " He caught the line ?" HOME. 35 but as the men were bent on their own pre- servation and did not care too much about him, he was thrust back when he attempted to force his way into the boat, and so escaped the death they met. The rest you know. But not the full extent of this fellow's almost insane grati- tude for the risk I incurred in saving him. He hangs about me like my shadow, will not be driven off, but steadfastly maintains his right to serve me and watch over me in return for what I did. So that at last I have consented to let him have his way, and have no doubt secured a faithful serving-man in Angus Macleod, who, from his former occupation, may be of value to me in cultivating the land I mean to employ him upon the moment I am in rightful pos- session of my estate/' A low dull pacing up and down the outside of the house had for some time excited the attention of the widow and her daughters, and though they did not mention it for fear of interrupting the stranger, they could not help turning, and listening to it now a pause had come in the conversation. Perceiving their eyes turned in the direction of the window, and that they were listening to the dull thud of footsteps passing up and down, the stranger said J 2 36 HOME. " There is nothing to be alarmed at. I ought perhaps to apologize for not telling him to keep further off; but it is only my " dog" as I some- times call him that same Angus Macleod I was mentioning just now walking up and down and waiting till I go out." " Poor faithful creature ! Pray oblige me by letting him be asked into the kitchen, where he can have some supper and warm himself on this bitterly cold night." " If you wish it, certainly. But he is used to waiting, and does not much care whether it's hot or cold." Mrs. Rushbrook rang the bell, and on the servant's answering it she was told to ask Angus in, to give him his supper, and make a good fire for him to sit by till his master was ready to leave. The servant did as she was ordered. After a slight parley at the door Angus walked in, and rubbing his feet heavily upon the mat, was heard to go lumbering downstairs into the kitchen. CHAPTER III. THE STRANGER AND HIS " DOG/" THE conversation had hitherto been limited to the briefest questions and to the replies of the stranger, as, breathless with attention, the mother and her daughters listened to his feeling, though rather unnecessary, description of the calamity by which the Captain had lost his life. In person he was strongly built, his com- plexion dark, his face expressive ; and though his features presented no especial points for admira- tion, there was a peculiarity about them that could not fail to attract attention, as under the influence of excitement they became almost hand- some, and then again changed into something strangely forbidding when the excitement passed away, or when he alluded to the patient wretch outside whom he had likened to his " dog," and whose sense of gratitude he appeared almost to hold up to derision. His brow was broad and lofty, but there was no great indication of intellect developed in his massy front, and what small signs there were, were more than counterbalanced by the expression of 38 THE STRANGER AND HIS "DOG." his mouth. Thin lipped, and rather wide than narrow, it evidenced, as Margaret thought, a cruel disposition ; whilst his jaw, square and singularly bold, betokened, in her eyes, a man of indomi- table purpose one who could, if he would, be obstinate as he was firm, or obstinate even with- out the necessary firmness. An obstinacy some men are known so thoroughly to possess as to pass for men of purpose and character, when their chief merit lies in a fixed determination to do just as they think proper. Margaret saw all this, and experienced a doubt more puzzling still a doubt as to the expression of his eyes. Large and slightly prominent and of a light grey colour, they had at times a soft and tender gaze, but which, while melting with a soft regret, had yet the power to contract, as, lit by sudden passion, his dark and heavy brow fell lowering down almost hiding them beneath. All this she thought she could discover in that stranger's face. A certain charm of winning grace mixed with it as well, inducing her at times to think she had read his character correctly, and then again leaving her undecided and in doubt. If that man was fated to be her husband, she had little knowledge of her own desire. He was so different, so utterly distinct from him whose. THE STRANGER AND HIS "DOG." 39 picture was lying next her heart, she had no pos- sible conception by which to shape her thoughts, nor to explain how different this one was to him to whom she was betrothed. The mother was more easily satisfied. Thinking of her husband, and of her daughters' helpless state, she readily accepted the stranger for what he appeared to be a tall and by no means bad- looking man a man her husband had known and valued, and, taking it for granted that the Captain had some especial reasons for liking him, she looked upon it as a matter of obedience and duty to his memory to receive him cordially, and welcome him as some especial good vouchsafed them in their distress. Busy over her work, the youngest daughter did not speak, nor appear to form any opinion of her own, either for or against him. Intent upon the recollection of her father, she still worked on, or, blinded by her tears, turned her face away to wipe them from her eyes. The stranger's story ended, it became a ne- cessary courtesy to show him some trifling hos- pitality; and, anxious to be informed of her husband's latest wishes (which in his letter he had hinted at), Mrs. Eushbrook became more genial in her manner, threw off a certain portion of her moodiness, and endeavoured to arrive by slow, 40 THE STRANGER AND HIS " DOG." but sufficiently definite stages at what was up- permost in her mind. As a preliminary to this, and with a view to place Margaret prominently before him, she made some womanly excuse to call her to her, hoping to set her more conspicuously in the light, and afford him a better opportunity to observe her singularly handsome face and figure. This artifice was not without its due effect. She had before appeared sufficiently attractive, and in her unaffected pose had induced him to turn his eyes to her, and address his words to her, as a principal, though silent, auditor in the room ; but when she rose and tenderly approached her mother, a more than ordinary charm seemed to impel him to bend his full wide eyes on her with an almost startled sense of admiration. That she was tall and fair, and exquisitely moulded in the perfection of a woman's form, was evident at a glance. Blue-eyed, brown- haired, fresh-coloured, yet most daintily com- plexioned, few beholders would have cared to turn their gaze away on once beholding her. It is not to be supposed that Margaret was indifferent to her own perfections, nor to the sudden change apparent in the stranger's face, as slowly moving across the room she approached her mother. She rather seemed to have expected THE STRANGER AND HIS "DOG." 41 this ; had purposely kept herself aloof, and never intruded on the conversation, except by one brief question, as if a silent fear of awakening admira- tion had compelled her to remain secluded in hope to escape observation. " You were kind enough to write/' the widow said, as soon as her daughter had resumed her place, and she perceived a convenient pause had come, "you would tell us how my husband" here she paused for a moment " had commis- sioned you to deliver to us his instructions for the future, in the event of his fatal apprehensions being realised. It is not to be expected we can be otherwise than obedient to his wish, and thankful to you, sir, for your disinterested kind- ness." " You have little to thank me for ; and I am only sorry to be the messenger of such evil tidings. Had the Captain lived he could have told you how he and I traded together and sought M to effect a mutual good. It was perhaps this knowledge of our ability to render each other a service first won his regard, and prompted him at the last to speak as freely as he did on matters touching his home in England, and of his wife and daughters, anxiously expecting his return." "It is very, very dreadful! But taught in early life the lesson of humility, and to believe 42 THE STRANGER AND HIS " DOG." that the chastening of our vanities is intended for our especial good, I trust I shall be able to evince sufficient gratitude, and accept with resig- nation the correction which God in His mercy has vouchsafed to us." " It is God's will no doubt, and, like good Christians, we must submit to His decree. But when the loss of worldly means is superadded to the death of one we love, the burden is twofold weighted, and the accumulation of our woes more difficult to bear. Wives left in affluence may mourn, as good wives should, the loss of a hus- band ; but Heaven help the widow suddenly de- prived of husband and of means as well ! Her case is far more pitiable, and demands conside- ration and respect." " You show it by your words, and prove your sympathy by acting as you have done. It is a consolation to know my husband had at least so kind and true a friend as he found in you." " It was, as I have hinted, a friendship chiefly springing out of a desire to do each other service. Yet not quite limited to that, since the Captain often flattered me by saying he wished I was in England and nearer associated with him than I then was." He said this modestly enough, yet with a glance at Margaret as if he wished to read her THE STRANGER AND HIS "DOG." 43 thoughts, and ascertain if he might pursue the subject further. But her eyes were cast upon the table, and gave no sign in answer to his wish. A slight heaving of the bosom, an imperceptible gathering of the brows, and that was all, except perhaps a nervous working with the hands, and the faintest change of colour visible in her cheeks. It was not so with the mother. She changed like the chameleon, and from white to red flushed a visible approval, as she glanced first at her daughter, next at the stranger, then smiling graciously and slightly bowing, seemed to say that what her husband had suggested for their good it was her pleasure and duty to obey. " There were certain matters," the stranger resumed, (( so the Captain said, weighing heavily on his mind; the chief of which, his apprehen- sions of a dangerous, if not fatal voyage, and the fear of losing the savings of his life, should he go down and leave his wife and daughters well nigh penniless. He stated this in his warmth of friendship, not, as you may suppose, to make his private matters a theme of conversation, but to convince me he was sensible of the claims of his family, and earnest in his desire to promote their welfare." " It was only like him," replied the widow, bursting into tears. 44 THE STRANGER AND HIS " DOG." " Now this very over anxiety for the good of his family, I verily believe, first put the thought of clanger in his mind, knowing as he did that their future welfare depended upon the safety of his cargo, and the money he hoped to realize on his share of it ; and as the Captain and I were old friends, in consequence of my having had to manage a large estate for my father in Jamaica, and of my engaging him to ship its produce home, it followed not unnaturally that as we were about leaving for good, though in different vessels, he should confide to me everything he valued, and a few of his last wishes in case of anything happening to him." " Nothing could have been more natural/' exclaimed Mrs. Rushbrook. " It is necessary I should say thus much now my father is no more, and by way of explaining, that my principal object in returning to England is to establish my right to what he died possessed of. This, added to the money I shall receive under the new Act of Parliament to compensate proprietors for the emancipation of their slaves, will at least assure you I do not come to settle down a pauper, but am able and willing to afford you such assistance as lies in my power pro- vided the Captain's impression in my favour is reciprocated by his family/' THE STRANGER AND HIS " DOG.' 45 " I am sure we ouglit to accept your kindness and consideration with gratitude," replied the widow, glancing towards Margaret, who, with her hands clasped before her, sat deep in thought. " I do not mean it in the sense you name. I would be disinterested if you would permit me, and out of regard to your husband do all I can to lessen the severity of his loss. There might, indeed, be a different construction put upon my words, but that must come with time, or be explained at such subsequent visits, if you will permit them, as I may have the happiness to make/'' " We shall not only receive them as a favour, but as an honour; and I am sure my daughters will rejoice to know that their father's friend has proved himself so considerate and kind to his disconsolate family " " You are very good, and if you will allow me, I will beg of your daughters to accept of a few trifles I have brought from abroad, which, though of no great value, may be considered novelties in England/' Without conveying a notion of ostentation when he spoke of his wealth, he yet dwelt upon it as though he had a purpose in his words, and to show that, though he had discovered no signs of being acceptable to the daughter, he possessed 46 THE STRANGER AND HIS " DOG." the means to place her in an enviable position, should she, upon better acquaintance, evince a liking for him. One thing was certain, he was sensibly im- pressed by her, and though he spoke as a matter of courtesy to the mother, his words were evi- dently meant for Margaret, to whom he turned as if for encouragement, and by way of con- vincing her of his admiration. She was sensible of this admiration, yet at the same time afraid of it. She knew exactly what he meant, and that he wished her to be- lieve she had made an impression on him which only required a little yielding on her part to ripen into a stronger passion. He was certainly very kind and liberal, and though she wished he had not offered to send them presents, yet, as her mother seemed to wish they should -accept them she felt bound to say something, or do something, that should convince him she was not insensible to his liberality and kindness. But as she turned, and was about to express her thanks, she met his eyes fixed upon her Avith such an admiring, almost passionate glance, she had to sink her own in confusion, and keep a painful silence. But her mother thanked him in her name and her sister's ; then, after dwelling for a few mo- THE STRANGER AND HIS "DOG." 47 ments on his kindness, and their house being a melancholy one now to ask him to, she said, if he would sometimes come and put up with their old-fashioned ways, they " should be only too glad to see him." " It is time I took my leave," he said ; " you must all be worn out with care and anxiety, and I am afraid my visit has not added to your cheerfulness. Of one thing, however, be assured, that much as I was devoted and attached to the Captain, I feel bound to confess that the im- pression left upon my mind by his friendship is strengthened when I contemplate the amiability and the beauty (here he turned to Margaret) of his family." " You are very good," replied Mrs. Rush- brook. " Before I go, there is one thing I ought to mention to relieve your anxiety respecting what the Captain entrusted me to communicate to you ; but as it referred chiefly to pecuniary mat- ters I hope you will permit me to hold it in reserve, and in the meantime be assured that any assistance I can render shall be given with plea- sure. Should I send in my card in the course of a few days, and say that Mr. Ellerton Mr. Mark Ellerton, has called, I hope you ' will remember me, and receive me as a friend." 48 THE STRANGER AND HIS "DOG." He shook hands cordially with the mother and the younger daughter ; but on bidding good-bye to Margaret he appeared to hold her hand longer than necessary ; to hold it with a certain warmth of pressure just sufficient to let her see he would like to hold it in his own for ever then let it go, and said " good-night/" in accents tender but subdued. Summoning his man, Mark Ellerton took his leave; and as their footsteps died away Mar- garet sat listening to them until she fell into a state of painful musing, from which her mother had some difficulty in rousing her. CHAPTER IV. A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS. MRS. RUSHBROOK'S early life had been influenced by circumstances of a contrary nature, and by events so entirely removed from ordinary calcu- lation as to place her, as a wife, in a different sphere of life from that which had been originally designed for her, and surrounded her by in- fluences very different from what either herself or family had suggested as likely to take place. As the daughter of Josiah Hindmarsh, a Dis- senting minister living in the North of England, her girlhood had been one of self-denial tand en- forced submission to the stringent rules by which her father governed his household and the small circle of obedient followers over whom he exercised unlimited control. A preacher against the horrors of the Slave Trade, he little dreamt how soon his daughter would espouse a man whose dealings, if not exactly in league with that unholy traffic, partook in some degree of the evils, as he thought, attendant on it dealings in his mind almost as iniquitous as the trade in human life itself, and the produce of slave labour, a matter VOL. i. 4 50 A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS. with him, equally to be objected to, either in the way of profit or consumption, as the subju- gation of the slave himself. It was under such correction Mrs. Rushbrook passed her early days, having besides to endure the lessons constantly instilled into her ears by her paternal aunt, whose instruction ought to have convinced her, if it did not, that she was a vile and miserable wretch, and peculiarly fitted for Satan to ensnare unless she listened to her advice and so became a proper-minded young woman, humble and meek and bent on heavenly bliss. Whether this teaching were a little too severe, or that her aunt was given to preach but failed to practise the virtues she boasted, cannot be ascertained, though it was notorious that storms and bickerings frequently occurred to interrupt the household calm in which the family had up till then indulged. But when her father died, and Josiah Hindmarsh was laid in the dust, the storm arose to tenfold clamour, as aunt and niece battled it to their hearts' content, while each in turn boasted her own propriety, or ex- claimed against the want of it in the other. By way of change, or at the suggestion of her aunt, it had been arranged that her niece should go for a month or two on a visit to some friends at Bristol, where, under able guidance and taught A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS. 51 by their example, she hoped she might in time become a dutiful and obedient follower in the footprints legibly depicted and firmly pressed convenient for her tread made, it is almost un- necessary to say, by herself, and leading upward in the ways of righteousness and virtue peculiar to a spinster. But as Bristol was the chief port for the West India trade, it so fell out that at the house at which her niece was visiting, a variety of the genus nauticum were constant visitors ; and meet- ing there the light-hearted and rather boisterous mate of a trader newly come to port, her feelings underwent a change. A sudden and unexpected tremor sprung up in her heart, and spite of ser- mons and the correction to which she had been subjected, she fell into a liking for a man who by his very nature seemed opposed to everything she had hitherto accepted as a matter of course, but who, she felt, had human instincts, and a gentleness of disposition prompting him to deeds of unaffected goodness worthy to be compared with those of her aunt herelf. The mother heard of her daughter's departure from the fold with a sigh, but in answering her letters, prudently forbore all opposition to her wish prompted thereto by the knowledge of household wants perhaps, and partly in oppo- 42 52 A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS. sition to the late Reverend Josiah Hindmarsh's maiden sister so wholly set on thoughts of bliss, and so inimical to all suggestions of mundane happiness, she made a point of upsetting it wherever she had a chance. She knew how meekly they had submitted to her husband's will, and how irksome at times that obedience had been to pay. She likewise knew the spirit of antagonism existing between her daughter and her husband's sister, and there- fore felt that any man of respectability who should step in and marry her ill-provisioned daughter ought to be accepted, and not flown at, as the virtuous Priscilla Hindmarsh wanted to fly at him, and tear his eyes out for only looking at her niece, who, to confess a truth, was quite as willing to look at him as he was to look at her. That Robert Rushbrook had desert and merit her Bristol friends one and all protested; de- clared he was a pattern of a seaman, and the most God-fearing man that ever put his foot on board a trader, or shipped over rum and sugar for the benefit of the commercial interests of the city. He was not a saint, of course ; but then what seaman ever was except when going down to Davy Jones's locker, and when all hopes were lost? But short of that, and simply reckoned A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS. 53 as an upright, honest man, there might be found as good, but none more deserving than that first of all first mates, who on board the Nancy was looked upon as her future captain, and who, when promoted, would no doubt command her faithfully and well. Thus matters quieted by degrees. The aunt's acerbity was softened, but not extinguished ; while the mother, willing to become a peace- maker and make things agreeable, set out for Bristol to judge of matters for herself. Favour- ably impressed by the frank, outspoken manner of the man, by the respect he showed to herself, and the tenderness he exhibited towards her daughter, she was easily persuaded to consent to the marriage and to sanction it by her presence ; greatly to the horror of her sister-in-law, when she heard of it, but to the delight of her daughter, who was so enraptured at her mother's kindness she could hardly find words to express her happiness. The compact duly signed, and sealed as lovers' compacts generally are by a kiss, Susan Hindmarsh became for better or worse the wife of Robert Rushbrook. His promotion followed soon after his marriage rather too soon, as his wife thought, though her friends congratulated her on his success, and declared she ought to be a 54 A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS. happy woman, at the very time she felt herself a most miserable one at the thought of losing him. Once afloat in his new capacity, the Captain won favours innumerable by his steady and exem- plary conduct. His owners were satisfied, his crew were satisfied, and in short, Robert Rush- brook, as the master of the Nancy, realized all that had been said of him, and a great deal more. He was persevering, bold, yet prudent; stuck to his ship like its mainmast, and had never been known to lose an anchor or break a spar. Honest as the light, a shrewd bargainer, and a careful dealer, he had abundant opportunities afforded him by the owners to trade on his own account, so that by the time his eldest girl was four years old and his youngest was born, Captain Rushbrook had become a thriving man, and more than ever devoted to his rather methodistical, but painstaking and most prudent wife. Passing from the time of her young mother- hood up till now now when her daughters were grown women, and when he whom she had sofondly loved was no more Mrs. Rushbrook could not help recalling her own fond youth, and her own waywardness in bestowing her affections on a man so diametrically opposed to the wishes of her family, and so antagonistic to all their notions . A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS. 55 of propriety, the wonder was how the match had ever been brought about, and by what means their adverse notions had been combated. Her mother, it is true, had viewed her weak- ness tenderly, and consented to her marriage from prudent, if not selfish motives. But then she had not been grafted on a saint as had her husband's sister, who, as the very shadow of her brother, moved and thought as he did, and never even for a moment forgot the sanctity of his profes- sions, nor accepted them for less than their apparent worth. Rigid, starched, and formal, Priscilla never stooped to human weakness, but in her sectarian formality ignored all softness, and forgot all sen- sibility where the faults of less righteous beings than herself were concerned. Her niece, it is true, had not done so badly after all (although, as a matter of punishment for her disobedience, she half expected, and almost hoped, she would have suffered ill-usage and starvation) . But time had softened her, and when the mother died, Priscilla so far consented to be pacified that she actually sent her niece a Christmas goose and a couple of barn-door fowls by way of peace- offering, and to show that, though perhaps her niece required neither, yet out of Christian charity she was willing to forgive, and afford ' 56 A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS. her unmistakeable proofs of her regard by the gifts so lavishly bestowed. An advance having been made, and Priscilla taking the first step towards a peaceful settlement of their differences, it was arranged that Margaret, as her niece's eldest daughter, should pay a visit to her great-aunt at Knaresborough, in hopes her presence might heal up family quarrels and bring about a reconciliation between Mrs. Rushbrook and her relative. That relative had now grown grey, and hard, and angular. Attenuated into lank proportions, she no longer exhibited her former roundness of form, but dwindled, as it were, into a human sign- post through her over-sanctity and too much shud- dering at the sinfulness of the world, faithfully pointed out the way to guide all stragglers to the fold set up for their reception by her departed brother. Here she took her stand ; here dwelt on her own perfections, but said nothing of the scandal of her tongue, nor of the mischief she caused to all who differed with her in matters of faith or prac- tice. She was as apt to malign as ever to be as spiteful and malicious as ever. But then she had a little property ! Though she had wasted and grown thin, that, it was hoped, had not ; but, swelled by careful nursing, had increased in value and multiplied in stock. A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS. 57 It was this little property lier aunt was known so carefully to preserve first led Mrs. Rushbrook to accept the goose and fowls. She was her nearest relation ; she had a right to think of her family; and think of it she did when she con- sented that Margaret should visit her great-aunt, and afterwards bring home, she hoped, a satisfac- tory report of her intention to settle her freehold houses and funded property on herself and daughters. But behold the perversity of events, and how the most unlocked for circumstances may be brought about by the wilfulness of children when trusted from their homes, and the watchful eye a mother always keeps upon her grown-up daughters ! Left to their own direction they stumble, as a rule, upon those very rocks, or are drawn towards those young-men quicksands pur- posely designed to confound all prudent specula- tions, and bring to naught all wise suggestions for their good their safe deliverance in a world of care. Down that very pitfall into which her mother had formerly taken a leap in the dark, behold her daughter fallen, and desperately in love with a young and venturesome swain. One who, like the lover originally chosen by herself, was in- tended for a hazardous profession, and shortly 58 A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS. expected to join his regiment in India. That same Frederick Arkwright, whose picture Mar- garet had pressed so fondly in her hand on the night they sat listening to the storm that pic- ture she had so constantly looked at when he, the stranger, first came to darken with his shadow her young-born hopes, and blight her expectations of a happy future by his presence. Frederick Arkwright was of a good Yorkshire family, rich in blood, but poor of means, or with just sufficient means to enable them to give their sons the education of gentlemen. The elder son (as elder sons not un frequently are) was educated for the Church, and with good patronage might in time expect to succeed to a good living. The younger son (as is also frequently the case) was intended for the army, and under the able in- struction of a military tutor diligently pursued his studies. He was smart and handsome, pos- sessed the better intellect of the two, and seemed likely to be the winner in the game of life, pro- vided he had equal chances with his brother and was not unfairly dealt by at the starting. The mother and father were as tenderly attached to one son as the other, and would willingly have kept them both at home ; but un- fortunately their means were not sufficient to leave them in the position of gentlemen, unless A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS. 59 they first placed them in some profession or honourable pursuit. Mrs. Arkwright's uncle was an East India House Director; Mr. Arkwright was no less fortunate in having a Rector for his uncle, and it was not unreasonable to suppose that the two old bachelors would use their in- terest in their nephews' favour the one in the Army, the other in the Church the moment they were requested to do so. The Rector promised, but the Director did better, he performed presented Frederick with an ensigncy in the Honourable Company's service, and said " he would look after him if he only showed pluck, and proved himself a fire- eater after his example." Now an ensigncy was something. It was a good beginning, and who knew what Colonel Dick might ultimately do for him, if he only humoured him a little, set down to his work with a will, and commenced studying for his profession without loss of time ! The Rector's aid was yet to come (as come no doubt it would), and secure their eldest born some comfortable living. Then, as a matter of course, and after the Rector was dead, the Bishop of the Diocese (or whoever had the living in his gift) could not do less, they thought, than confer it on their son, and place him in that snug rectory out on the Border, but close enough to 6U A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS. home for them to get to see him at stated seasons. He would not be called away to fight in dreadful battles, as their youngest son must fight in imitation of the Colonel ; but peaceful, rich, and sluggish, keep up the family name, and do by his brother, as they felt that Frederick would do by him the moment he was appointed Governor- General of India, and had place and pension at his command. In flattering prospects such as these the father and mother indulged, while the younger son steadily pursued his studies, and applied himself manfully to work. The elder worked a little, slept a great deal, and, as a necessary pre- paration for what he had to do, never left off talking of it ; and in anticipation of his coming honours amused himself by counting his chickens instead of bestowing on more substantial study a proper and sufficient care. Frederick's tutor pronounced him a perfect genius ; spoke of him as a young man singu- larly gifted, qtiick, and sharp, and as wishing to benefit by a course of instruction he, the tutor, pronounced superior to all others, and the result of a system peculiarly his own ; depending chiefly on the way he brought his knowledge to a focus, and by taking in all wandering thoughts, all wayside glances, managed to absorb all mental A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS. 61 vision as it were, all independent speculation, and hold his pupil hard and fast upon the point he had in view. That the tutor had some merit must be readily admitted, and though, perhaps, not so extra- ordinary a hero as he wished to be considered, he was a man of parts, and had had considerable experience. He was slim and straight, turned, with military precision to the right hand or the left, swelled out his little narrow chest, and walked as though he had been marching on parade. An old, and most ill-requited soldier, he had won his honours by his blood could boast of wounds gained in the Peninsula, and of the loss of three fingers by a sabre-cut at "Waterloo ; yet was but a half-pay lieutenant after all. Invalided, and a martyr to rheumatism caught by camping in the worst of weathers, and from being compelled, as he too often had been, to sleep in the open air compelled, as soldiers are, to shake and shiver, sleep a feverish sleep, and perform the duty of a clothes-horse, and air their wet clothes upon their backs, rendering them liable to attacks of after-suffering, such as the Lieutenant now suffered, yet patiently en- dured as his share of the spoils. Although considerably below the middle 02 A COMPLICATION OF EVENTS. height, he made up his want of size by his consequential bearing ; and when his coat was buttoned to his chin, when his cane was in his hand, and he had satisfied himself by glancing in a small square of looking-glass nailed over his washing-stand, that his stiff grey whiskers were in order, and brushed over his cheek-bones like a pair of wings ready to fly away with his head, his ap- pearance became almost formidable. CHAPTER V. " THE MILITARY TUTOR." LIEUTENANT CONROY NUBBLETON was sixty if an hour and on his half-pay made as good an ap- pearance as could reasonably be expected. His vanity left alone, and his small faults of con- sequence forgiven, he was a gentleman you might be proud to know, albeit he was compelled to add to his small income by giving instruction in the military art, for which, it is only justice to say, he was in every way qualified. Hence it was, that happening to reside in the neighbourhood, and his fame having reached the ears of Mr. Arkwright, that gentleman entered into an en- gagement with him and appointed him to be his son's instructor. Now it so fell out that in performing this necessary duty the Captain had to pass the front garden of Miss Priscilla Hindmarsh's cot- tage going to his pupil, and again on his return. Twice on every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, wet or dry, hail or shine, did the Captain strut along, dressed in his everlasting military surtout, braided and frogged, ornamented by cane am 64 "THE MILITARY TUTOR.' whisker, and mounted on his preposterously high heels. Whatever may be the working of our human destiny, whether high-heeled boots, or canes, or whiskers, are presumed to exercise an influence on our careers, punctual to the day and to the minute, Miss Priscilla Hindmarsh was always to be observed at the window the moment the Captain's heels were heard, or his cane was seen to flourish, first to carte and then to tierce, as he came jauntily alo%g. The flowers in the window wanted watering, or her canary a little seed, perhaps ; and ever at these pleasing tasks, or seated at the open win- dow reading a formidable book of sermons, Pris- cilla might be seen the instant the clock had chimed a quarter past the hour, when punc- V tually at twenty minutes past, ^the pavement recognised the presence of 4fce Captain, and sig- nalled his approach to her attentive ear ; then stepping into the garden, she would pick a piece of groundsel, or with uplifted eyes look as if expecting rain, when not a cloud was to be seen, and nothing worth looking at but the grey-whiskered Captain going or returning from his pupil. From purely accidental meetings such as these he seeing Priscilla at the window, or Priscilla "THE MILITARY TUTOR." C5 seeing the Captain from the Avindow, a sort of smile followed these most singular of chances ; and, though at first Miss Hindmarsh prudently repelled his familiarity by one of her severest frowns, the repetition of the meeting and the strangeness of the event appeared so odd, that Miss Hindmarsh positively smiled one day, and .afforded the Captain the opportunity to bow the next but one, when sure as fate Priscilla was chirping to her bird, or looking out for rain compelling her to move, the slightest of all moves, in return to his salute. Why should her great-aunt be always at the .window at that particular time, or why so anxious to know the exact moment of the day before going" into the garden to pick a slip of groundsel ; or if not out of doors, then equally busy indoors watering the flowers at the window as though they required watering at one par- ticular minute, and could not be trusted to any one but herself? "Was it that she was really given to flowers out of a sudden love to them, or was her bird moulting and requiring a change of food? It must be one or the other so Margaret thought, when, after residing for a month under her great-aunt's by no means cheerful roof, she observed this sudden change come on her daily VOL. i. 5 66 "THE MILITARY TUTOR." round of life a change so sudden and so novel she was unable to assign a reason for it, and could not be so easily persuaded that the canary required unusual feeding, or the groundsel such frequent picking, as her great-aunt said they did, by way of explanation. Could it be that, worn and wearied over that big book of family sermons, her aunt had become a little drowsy, and therefore stirred about to wake herself up, and put an edge upon her piety ? It could not be the blue-coated, sparrow-faced Captain who attracted her ; his clinking heels keeping such a clatter in the street, that Margaret wondered how on earth the man could walk on them, and why he always came by so exactly at a given time. It could not be ! And yet it had more than once occurred to her that, whilst pretending to be intent on geraniums, or on groundsel, her great-aunt had gone into the garden purposely to watch the consequential Captain strut along as though he thought the street belonged to him, and that his whiskers and his cocked-up bead were the observed of all beholders. Yet putting this and that together, why should he so grandly bow, or she so faintly smile ? A smile so seldom seen it came like something ominous, and, fitfully distinct, showed like a far- "THE MILITARY TUTOR." 67 off glimmer of the sun when there is not the least suggestion in the aspect of the sky to war- rant its appearance. Determined to be satisfied, and to know how far her suspicions were correct, Margaret placed herself one morning on the watch, when sure as fate, the instant the high-heeled boots were heard, and the small nourish of the cane was visible over a dwarf holly-bush, her great-aunt grew anxious about the health of her bird, or doubtful on the state of the weather; and stepping into the slip of ground fronting her by no means spa- cious dwelling, devoted herself to groundsel, or the picking of a stray flower left blooming in her garden. " It affords me infinite pleasure," said the Captain, raising his hat, and stretching on tiptoe to look over the paling, " to find a lady of your abundant charity so pleasantly occupied. Even in the welfare of a bird, the peculiar goodness of your nature is conspicuous, and my sole wish is to change places with it, that I might be as carefully tended, and as fondly petted." " Sir \" said Priscilla, her meditations no doubt broken in upon by the Captain's rather abrupt and familiar speech. " I beg a thousand pardons for my presump- tuous and most unceremonious address ; but 52 C8 " THE MILITARY TUTOR." soldiers, my dear madam, are men of action, not of form. We speak as we feel, and I state it as my belief that your excellence of temper will at onee overlook an unintentional offence, and induce you to accept my apologies in proof of your amiability, and at the request of an unknown gentleman." Puckering the Captain's lank cheeks, and turning up the corners of his mouth, the faintest smile was visible, when Priscilla, guilty of a most flagitious fib, unblushiugly declared though with a coldness of demeanour peculiarly her own " It was her daily custom, that regularly as the clock struck twelve (she did not say a quarter past) she always attended to such matters ; cer- tainly not with a view of attracting observation, or to invite the familiarity of strangers without first having had the happiness of an introduction." "It is an honour I so ardently desire," re- plied the gallant Captain, " I shall take the earliest opportunity to solicit that good office from a friend, when I shall trust to make myself more favourably known to you. In the mean- time I beg of you to excuse the bluntness of a soldier, and to believe me too much of a gentle- man willingly to offend so admirable an example of humility and piety as Miss Priscilla Hind- marsh." " THE MILITARY TUTOR." GO Again the hat was taken off, and again the Captain bowed. Then rising on his toes as if to draw himself out, and make the most of a little, he smiled a pleased adieu ; nourished his stick, parried his customary carte and tierce, and finally thrust it in the air before him, as if to convince her it was Cupid's arrow, and accurately aimed, designed to pierce her to the heart. Perfectly satisfied from what she had seen that her great-aunt had set her mind upon the Captain, Margaret dropped no hint of her sus- picions, but prudently determined to keep a silent watch upon the spinster's first attempt at being captivating, and patiently await the following Monday morning, when she knew the Captain would go by again, and Miss Hindmarsh would be busy over her flower-pots, or anxious about a change of diet for her bird. But when Monday morning came, she saAv him, to her surprise, go by evidently without being noticed from the parlour-window or the garden, whence her great-aunt generally watched for him. He glanced from the top to the bottom of the house, peeped among the bushes, but could see nothing of his charmer. And how could he when, unknown to Margaret, and equally unob- served by him, she was taking a bird's-eye view of him between the curtains of one of the up- 70 "THE MILITARY TUTOR." stairs windows, silently contemplating his disap- pointment, and delighted to see his downcast look at not meeting her. But in the afternoon, as if to make amends and keep alive that spark of love glowing in his lion heart, her great-aunt presented herself at the window and graciously melted into a smile a faint though most bewitching smile, a smile unseen as she thought by Margaret, but which beyond a doubt was meant in return to the Captain's stately bow, and as a reward for his gallantry. It now became her niece's turn to look and watch as well, as, arm-in-arm with the diminu- tive Captain, she saw a tall and handsome youth go by, talking to him and keeping step with him, though as she perceived with some little difficulty. Attracted by the Captain's movement towards the window, and following the direction of his eyes, the young man turned, and there beheld his tutor's faded beauty picking off the no less faded leaves from her well-watered, though most consumptive-looking plants. Behind her great-aunt, sufficiently concealed from observation to prevent her being noticed by the Captain, whose eyes were not of the best, but close enough for the other to see and turn " THE MILITARY TUTOR." 71 toward her with a quick and sudden glance, stood Margaret ! The very person he had in- quired for, had hunted for, and tried to find some trace to, yet could not discover in any quarter of the town. He had no sooner seen her than he gripped the Captain by the arm, held him like a vice, and brought him to a sudden halt opposite the very window at which Priscilla stood +o gaze upon the Captain, and drink in love with both her eyes. The halt was so sudden and unlocked for, that, on perceiving her beau was not alone, Priscilla drew back timidly, slightly tossed her head, and might have slammed down the window had she not observed the tall young man cast his eyes beyond her into the room, as if looking at some- thing behind her back. Wondering what on earth the man could mean if he were looking at her silver salver, or her gown, and if she had left some part of it un- pinned she turned and saw to her amazement Margaret standing some little distance off, right in the direction of those monstrously improper eyes, and glancing back at them again. Flushed over neck and face and scandalously blushing, she saw her niece confounded by his gaze, trembling and spell-bound ! Then turning 72 " THE MILITARY TUTOR." towards the window, she looked as if she had a miud to dash the flower-pots at her for her im- pudence, and the shameless manner in which she- returned the young man's glance. The window was slammed down, the curtains- drawn, so as to prevent the possibility of a peep either into the room or out of it ; then, satisfied she had done everything propriety called on her to do (though terribly alarmed lest the Captain should be offended at the abrupt manner in which she had shut him out), she turned to vent her rage on Margaret, and make her pay for her disappointment and the chance she had lost of a little amiable flirtation with her military- admirer. Her surprise may be imagined when she dis- covered that the room was empty that, instead of waiting to be lectured, her niece had taken it into her impudent head to baulk her at a time, too, when she was in admirable cue for scolding, and indignant at the treatment she had re- ceived. Had she but waited ! But no, Margaret was too flurried and too nervous to face her great- aunt just then. She had seen one whom she had never hoped to look upon again, and fearful of betraying her secret, ran up to her room, and left her great-aunt doubly angry and indignant "THE MILITARY TUTOR." 73 at the deception practised on her, though by the rustle of her skirts as she went flying up the stairs, Miss Hindmarsh knew she was afraid to meet her, and that she would have to undergo a deal of penance and humiliation before she could hope to be received into her grace again. CHAPTER VI. LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. THAT Margaret and that good-for-nothing young man had met before, Miss Hindmarsh was con- vinced. She could not of course tell where, and as to the when and how, these were beyond her comprehension ! Her behaviour was so outrageous, her conduct so infamous, Priscilla could not for the life of her imagine where she had picked up such ideas where she could have learnt them and last of all (though perhaps that was the worst of all), by what inconceivable and absurd mistake that handsome young man had turned his eyes on her a chit, a child when, matured and ripe, attractive though sedate, she had herself been standing at the window at the very moment he looked in at her niece ! It was not to be believed, and yet the fact was positive. It was a mystery as difficult of solution as perpetual motion, and not to be attempted with any chance of arriving at a satis- factory conclusion. There was another thing equally puzzling and LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. 75 difficult to explain. ,It was, how Margaret, who had hitherto been propriety itself a little way- ward perhaps, and not so yielding as could have been wished to her superior dictation how she had all at once exploded, as it were, gone into a most combustible state ; and, without asking her consent, had taken the liberty to do as she thought proper, and look w T here she had no right to look. It would not bear thinking of. But though Miss Hindmarsh was sensible of the difficulty, and knew by experience the impossibility of discovering the workings of a woman's mind, she yet had the hardihood to sit down and reflect upon the subject, and try to ascertain under what peculiar conditions her niece had become sus- ceptible to impressions, and how long or short a time before, her mind had opened and expanded into a desire to be associated with the other sex. If she could not explore and search it fully, she had sufficient reliance on her own experience to be satisfied she could come at something near the truth, and, like a true woman, was prepared to guess at the remainder. Acting on this resolve, she determined to strike the iron while it was hot, and thinking to frighten her niece, rushed upstairs, and after scolding her for daring to stand opposite the window, and 76 LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. blushing when she saw the young man, told her she ought to be ashamed of herself, and should know better, having had a daily opportunity of seeing how properly she (Miss Hindmarsh) con- ducted herself, and always had, ever since she was a girl ; when, as she said, she had made a point of keeping the men at a distance for fear of getting herself talked about, as she was likely to be talked about, if she went on much longer in the shameless way she had begun. Instead of frightening her as she expected, she found that Margaret had a spirit quite equal to her mother's, who in former times had held her own against her, and set her at defiance upon every possible occasion. Instead of being fright- ened and ashamed, she flew out at her, called her a hypocrite, and rated her for her duplicity in a most scandalous manner; said she had watched her behaviour towards Captain Nub- bleton, and seen her smile and bow, although affecting to be busy upon other matters which only made her conduct the worse, especially as she pretended to so much virtue, and dared to find fault with other people for doing what she did herself. And was she to be spoken to by a chit like that ? Was she to be lectured instead of lec- turing, and called a hypocrite at her time of LOVE ON BOTH SIDES, 77 life ? No ! So out she flew into a tremendous passion, stamped and raved, and vowed to be the death of her if she did not hold her insolent tongue and treat her with respect. But as that did not seem to have the desired effect, she left off abusing, and threatened to write home to her mother, who, as she said, would soon take her to task ; or if she did not, and insist upon her apologizing, she might make up her mind to the consequences, as she was determined not to endure any further impertinence, but should wash her hands of that part of the family and leave it to its fate. But as letters might bring answers, and as Margaret might write as well, and set her little freedom with the Captain in an improper light, Priscilla condescended to be pacified, and con- sented to forgive that is, provided Margaret promised to be more circumspect, and not to blush so improperly, or, by returning glances cast on her by a stranger, make her, as her relative, a subject of conversation in the town in which she was supposed to be somebody. But Frederick Arkwright was not a stranger not in the sense her great-aunt regarded him since upon the second day of Margaret's visit to Knaresborough, accident had placed them in rather a novel and by no means picturesque 78 LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. situation ; an accident sufficient to warrant future recognition such as had recently occurred, though not to place them on more familiar terms. At the back of her great-aunt's house were fields and meadows, and Margaret had taken it into her head to wander in them unknown to that saintly lady, before she had taken out her curl-papers, or let her wiry ringlets fall down by way of ornament to the sides of her lank face. There were cows and ox,en in those fields, but one of the cows was vicious ; so that on the very second morning of her venturing among them, when the grass was moist with dew, when the hedgerows sparkled and the sun's red rays came slanting from the East just as she was about crossing the meadow, the cow ran at her, and before she could get away, or climb over a stile for safety, bore her to the ground, stood glaring over her, and, puffing rather savagely, seemed as if she had a mind to trample on her or toss her in the air. What further damage might have chanced beyond the fright and the shake occasioned by her fall, those skilled in cow adventures must determine. But before the cow could injure her a sharp knock upon her horns, and a loud cry, effectually startled her ; making her whisk her tail and scamper off, leaving young Frederick LOVE ONJ30TH SIDES. 7 Arkwright at liberty to raise the almost faint- ing girl, and place her for safety on the other side of the stile. What with her delicately complexioned skin, first turned to deadly whiteness, then flushed as suddenly when she found herself so strangely rescued, and perhaps a little out of countenance at the unromantic adventure in which she had been engaged, Margaret looked doubly pretty, but slightly overcome ; stammered her thanks, then almost fainted in her preserver's arms. Fair or dark, old or young, it was all one to him, when he saw the cow rush at her, stoop down her head, and try to toss her on her horns. He only saw the necessity for assistance, and bounding over a fence arrived in time to give the beast that flick upon the horns, when he be- came aware of the unexpected beauty of that girl, struggling to rise, yet more inclined to swoon and lie down where she was. On being questioned how she came there, and why the stupid cow had taken it in her head to run at her, Margaret at the first could scarcely answer ; but gaining strength, she seemed more disposed to laugh at, than talk of her adventure, or the rather severe shaking she had sustained. But as some little time elapsed before she could regain her strength, or he could bring himself to SO LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. think she could be trusted by herself, such ordi- nary conversation sprung up between them as a young lady and a young gentleman might inno- cently hold she so exquisitely fair, and he as handsome as Adonis. She felt she could have talked with him for ever ; but as the circumstance under which they had met was rather awkward, and as her great- aunt might wonder what had become of her, she thought it better to put an end to the conver- sation, and return indoors, now she felt perfectly recovered, and had almost forgotten all about the cow or the fright it had given her. It was of no use his telling her she could not walk she said she could. Then, at least, he said, " she had better take his arm." No ; she was quite able to walk alone. But she thanked him very much thanked him so earnestly and repeatedly, young Arkwright had much ado in persuading her he really had done nothing to be thanked for, although he liked to hear her say he had, and would gladly have remained there all the day, if only for the pleasure of listening to her, But it was time to part; there was no help for it, so he had to submit ; saAV her go across the second meadow, get over a low stile, follow the windings of a pathway that led into the High Street, and disappear. But not before she had LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. 81 looked behind and smiled, as if to thank him again for his kindness, as he stood waving his hand and wishing in his heart he durst follow her. Oh, how he blessed that puffing and most vicious cow, and in her crumpled horns devised a thousand charms ! Her nostrils were to him perfumed with odours, her breath as sweet as new-mown hay, and her angry eyes lit with a lambent flame, such as tips the darts of Cupid, or fires dear Hymen's torch ! Of all the animals he had ever seen, that cow was sacred ; thence- forth to be worshipped and made the subject of his dearest thoughts in preference to all others. There was no merit due to him, but only to that most blessed of all occasions which had first tempted him to walk towards the field, and through the gap in the hedge behold the unequal struggle. Yet so it was ; and hoping to arrive in time again to lift that fainting burthen in his arms (which like a form of fire appeared to burn him up, yet strengthened him with double ardour), he walked those meadows hopefully, passed up and down that winding path, and day by day shook off his sleep, to watch the coming of that beautiful girl whose eyes had melted him, whose form, radiant with grace and beauty, called thoughts of peace up in his breast, yet VOL. i. 6 82 LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. drove it from him utterly confounded salient angles, glacis, demi-bastions, half-moons, fosses, and counterscarps, together with those half a hundred other phrases daily instilled into his mind by Captain Nubbleton, who, in his capacity of military tutor, left no stone unturned in his desire to instruct his pupil how to blow up an enemy's fortress, or assault it, though Vauban himself had planned it, and were alive to take part in its defence. Margaret was not less sensibly impressed by his extraordinary merits than he by her beauty. Bravery, youth, and abundant charms were his, attracting her young fancy, yet leaving her to dwell with sadness on his image, as she reflected on the improbability of ever meeting him again, unless in the event of some unheard-of accident happening to place him as suddenly and as romantically before her as the adventure in the field had done, cither to renew her hopes, or give her reason to regret that she had ever seen him. Oh, what a whirl of new-created fancies came crowding to her mind when she thought of him ! What strange delights, what new-born hopes ! Her aunt's wise lessons, her prudent admonitions warning her against the treachery and deceit of men, were all forgotten. They vanished at his very LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. 83 sight. There was no deceit iu him, no treachery, and no fraud; and Margaret felt she could have defied the world to find one speck or flaw in him, her unknown yet most valiant knight ; whose eyes had looked so timidly, yet so earnestly, upon her, as if to read her soul, and pierce into her heart, compelling her to acknow- ledge a spontaneous emotion and confess herself subdued. That meadow path was now a path forbidden, since he, she felt, would walk out there again and watch for her to join him. She could not go there any more that was impossible. Yet once or twice she stole up to the corner of the hedge, peeped through the bushes, and stood to look across the fields. And all for what ? To see him slowly pace along, his arms behind his back, and his eyes bent upon the ground. Or if, holding his head erect, he gazed round with an inquiring glance, and turned as if expecting her, she ran away for fear she should be seen left him walking and waiting all day long, and week by week watching to no use. At length, at the end of a month, when she had some thoughts of going out very early to tell him not to walk there any more, because it was utterly impossible she could think of meeting him upon that very afternoon, as if to repay 62 84 LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. his watching and bring him face to face with her she saw him pass and stop and look in at the window as if his soul were in his eyes and seeking her he loved. Her great-aunt was at the window her peevish, prudish, and most puritanical great- aunt looking out upon her own account, and terribly annoyed at finding herself neglected by any one who had the audacity to look, and not at her. The Captain, too, she had lost her chance of ogling him, as of course she felt it would be highly improper to leer at him in the presence of that young man holding his arm, looking over her shoulder, and staring into her room ; so that, for the sake of appearances, she was obliged to slam down the window, and deprive herself of the fe- licity she expected of exchanging salutations with her beau. Margaret saw her turn, and, observing her angry glance, flew upstairs to avoid contention. But when her great-aunt followed, burst into the room, lectured and scolded her, set herself up as a pattern of female excellence, then broke into abuse of the male sex generally, and of that young man in particular, Margaret lost patience. Hence arose that storm, so quickly gathered, and as speedily to be dispelled by her knowledge of her great-aunt's hypocrisy, and the way she had LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. 85 hoped to hide her duplicity so as to conceal her design upon her under-sized admirer by resorting to any artifice she thought would mask it. The Captain meanwhile steadily pursued his game, and, though fully alive to the ardour of the chase, he calculated his chances, and kept in view his coy, but rather antique bird. Where she was shy, he was proportionately daring, and, vigorous in his efforts to entrap, soon found the means to accomplish his object by resorting to an expedient that did great credit to his in- ventive genius. It so happened that the Captain had a friend who was on speaking, but not on visiting terms with Miss Hindmarsh. If he could only per- suade his lady friend to invite his inamorata, and his inamorata accepted the invitation, he felt the battle as good as won. Tea and scandal were rather tempting, and so they proved : for on his friend's inviting, Miss Hindmarsh at once accepted ; said she should be exceedingly happy, but not quite liking to leave Margaret at home for fear of the young man, requested, and of course obtained, permission to take her with her. Everything was as it should be ; and now he had a chance of meeting her without the im- pediment of the garden fence to keep him scpa- 86 LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. rated from his charmer, the Captain made up his mind for victory; buttoned his little coat over the padding, slapped at it as if to stimulate his courage, and after practising his smiles for an hour in his square of looking-glass, felt satis- fied he should make an impression, and bring his fair one to terms in no time. Miss Hindmarsh, on the contrary, felt un- usually timid. She had a very strong impression in her mind that she had been asked chiefly to meet the Captain, and that he had requested his friend to ask her for that express purpose. Military men were used to stratagems, and no doubt he had planned the whole affair by way of ambuscade, thinking she Avould fall into it, and give him an opportunity to declare a passion he was evidently scorched up by. It was certainly very trying, but she made up her mind to go for all that, and prepared to grace her visit by an elaborate display of all the odds and ends of finery she could muster, stored away in a variety of drawers and boxes, packed in lavender, and brought to light after a seclusion of more than twenty years. She had the oppor- tunity to use them to advantage now, and Miss Hindmarsh was not the woman to neglect a chance that had never happened to her in her life before. LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. 87 The time employed in dressing is a mystery we dare not unfold. But she was dressed at last dressed to her perfect satisfaction, and, as a con- trast to Margaret,, was certainly worth looking at. Attired in a plain white dress, her niece had a single rose in her hair, while her great-aunt had a whole flower-bed scattered over her, and looked for all the world like a May Day Queen out for the evening. At last, all things being prepared, she went in full expectation of creating a sensation, and of calling attention to her remarkably juvenile ap- pearance ; and on arriving met, not only the Captain, whom she did expect, but that good- looking and most presumptuous young man, whom she did not expect that most impertinent person who had fastened his eyes on Margaret, or her silver salver she did not quite know which in a most audacious manner. But what was her surprise to Margaret's ? who, on seeing him, could hardly believe her senses, or trust her eyes, thinking they played her false. Dropped from the skies a new-born happiness seemed to dawn on her, and a delight to fall on her, which proved so impossible to resist, that pretending not to see the glances her aunt cast on her, and indifferent to her frowns and nods designed to tell her to keep him at arm's- length, LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. and snub him as a person quite beneath her notice she did exactly the reverse ; accepted his attentions with a smile, and never felt half so happy in her life as when he was sitting by her side and speaking to her in the gentlest tones she had ever heard. Her great-aunt Avas occupied ; the Captain kept her so ; and intent on listening to her own perfections (which, as a rule, she was quite prepared to believe in), she so far forgot her niece that, with the exception of a sidelong glance or two to see what she was doing, she did not make known her saintly horror of her forwardness after her usually frigid and forbidding manner. By her neglect of this, and charmed out of her senses by the compliments the Captain paid her, she afforded an opportunity for Margaret and Frederick Arkwright to exchange those senti- ments she and the Captain were trying to ex- change, but found difficult to adapt to their rather antiquated and certainly unloveable ideas. At length, after passing a most delightful evening after Priscilla had melted to the Cap- tain, and the Captain had melted to Priscilla ; after sandwiches and sherry, tarts and biscuits the time arrived for luxury to cease and home to be thought about ; when, faithful to his charge, and brisk as a bumble bee about a sunflower, LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. 89 the Captain offered his arm and begged to be permitted to conduct Miss Hindmarsh home ; the road being, as he assured her, dangerous,, and a military escort necessary to insure her safety, and deposit her at her little garden gate. After once or twice declining, Priscilla timidly consented to link her bony arm in his ; "when bent on conquest the Captain led the advance, strutted with his precious charge before, apd left Margaret and young Arkwright to bring up the rear. This, as a faithful pupil, he accomplished to the satisfaction of his superior in command, although slightly out of the line of march and a little farther off than was necessary.- He could not of course pretend to be so thorough a tactician as his master, or have so accurate a knowledge of the sex ; yet he won his honours fairly, and by strict attention to his duties, gave evidence of a desire to learn significant of a man born to success. The ice thus broken, and the first plunge made, the rest came naturally and easily enough. De- voted to her new admirer, and given over to the thoughts of courtship, Miss Hindmarsh paid little attention to her niece, but bent on securing her Captain, threw off some portion of her grimucss, essayed the juvenile, and gave herself up to sundry little playful arts ; she sighed smiled 90 LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. was melancholy, and then again grew light and airy, read Watts's Hymns, and thus inspired, en- deavoured to find a rhyme to Nubbleton, but not succeeding, tried how she should like the name, and if Priscilla Nubbleton would look well at the bottom of a sheet of paper. The attachment existing between Margaret and Frederick Arkwright only wanted time to ripen into love ; and as that time had been given by her great-aunt's indifference to what they were about, so long as she could pass her own agree- ably, their affection took a deeper root, and pro- mised to be as lasting as it was warm. All things looked hopefully for the future ; time and opportunity seemed but to increase their store of love, when an unlooked-for accident placed an insuperable bar to the fulfilment of their wishes. Her aunt had quarrelled with the Captain ! She had actually forbidden him the house, and, determined to keep him out. ordered the carpenter to put a padlock on the garden gate. The window no longer opened as of old ; no flag of truce (in the shape of a cambric handkerchief) greeted him as he passed, attracting him to stay and talk, or step inside and have a glass of currant wine to refresh him after his walk; but all was cold as charity, and gloomy as a house of correction. That currant wine so sweet, so luscious, and LOVE OX BOTH SIDES. 91 so full of potency had to answer for it all ! It was worse than poison to her now, and its baneful influence a thing to shudder at and abhor. Harm- less as she had thought it, and as a compound innocent, its sugared taste had tempted the Cap- tain to indulge beyond his usual stint ; when, fired by it,; fume, and strengthened by its power, the disreputable Captain summoned the spinster to capitulate ! demanded her then and there to lay down her arms, or enfold her in them, and become his better, though most bony half. Thus far the Captain's terms agreed with hers and fully met her approbation. But when he imprudently assailed her cherished store, de- manded to have under his control those matters supposed to constitute the sinews of war and furnish the supplies, Priscilla bridled, stood on the defensive, and indignantly commanded his retreat from her most saintly presence ! vowed he had obtained the honour of her acquaintance by an artifice worthy only of a Jew eager for the * / flesh-pots of Egypt, and that her Three per Cents., and certain household property she was known to possess, had been the original cause of his pre- tended worship and mercenary attempt to win her; prompting him to a demand, the like of which she could hardly believe, though she had heard it, but began to think she had not. 92 LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. Beaten from his entrenchments, and compelled to a disastrous retreat, the Captain viewed his cut-off treasure with a longing eye. He would no more have taken possession of that dilapidated fortress (which, in the person of Miss Hindmarsh, he had thought of taking) without a chance of spoil than he would have stormed a sand-bank or sat down to a windmill. He had wasted the ammunition of his eyes on her forlorn virginity to no use. He had besieged, but had been driven back; and seeing no hope of pillage, he buttoned his coat preparatory to protesting his regret to find his dear one so impregnable at the one point he had thought assailable, then strutting into the garden, vowed to punish the whole sex through her, and, at all events, to live in silence if he could not live in ease. Outraged, insulted, sneered at by her dearest friends, and laughed at by her enemies, Priscilla had yet a pleasure in the hope of making others as miserable, or more so than herself; and on young Arkwright presenting himself before her, with her niece hanging on his arm, said she was surprised to find such familiarity existing between them ; declared she would be no party to it, but w r ould write at once to London, inform her mother of her daughter's strange behaviour, and relieve herself from all responsibility in the matter. LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. 93 Write she did, and by that very post ; stated her inability to control her niece's daughter, and begged her to relieve her of all blame should she neglect her caution, or permit this improper familiarity to assume the nature of an engage- ment. A familiarity, as she said, that instant brought to light, and discovered by the merest accident, when all the time she had had a perfect knowledge of what was taking place, and knew about their stolen meetings, but did not dare to say a word for fear Margaret should expose her own flirtation, and anticipate the time when she could declare herself betrothed to Captain Nubbleton, and affianced, if not to a giant, yet to a gentleman of fascinating manners and de- cidedly captivating person. The next day but one a letter arrived from her mother with a request that Margaret should go home at once. Absence, Mrs. Rushbrook wrote, would effect a cure induce her to think differently, and enable her to get the better of a foolish fancy, brought about by change of scene, and the novelty of emotion arising out of it. But as her father was shortly expected home, the position of affairs could then be placed before him, when, should Mr. Arkwright's prospects warrant an engagement with his daughter, ar- rangements might possibly be entered into agree- 94 LOVE ON BOTH SIDES. able to all parties, though for her own part she wished it clearly to be understood, that she entirely set her face against the match, and should at all times object to any man marrying her daughter whose profession, however honour- able, was so little likely to insure to her or her family the happiness they expected from her union. But the bolt was shot, and, out of sight of mother and of friends, remained to rankle and keep the wound still open ! To tear or pluck it out too suddenly might be to tear her heart away as well, and leave poor Margaret a miserable woman for the remainder of her life. CHAPTER VII. " THE CASKET." ON her return to London, Margaret was subjected to a severe cross-examination by her mother, who wished to know how she had formed an acquain- tance with Mr. Ai'kwright, under what circum- stances she had met him, and the reason of her not having written to let her know what was taking place during the whole time she had been away. Margaret tried to excuse herself, but her mother would not be satisfied, since, as she said, her aunt must have had very good reasons for writing to tell her to put a stop to it. This was too much, and Margaret felt perfectly justi- fied in explaining that her aunt not only knew all about Mr. Arkwright and herself, but had winked at their attachment, until her quarrel wiih the Captain had changed her -plans ; when, finding he would not marry her unless he had her money, she had thought proper to write to her mother, in order to avoid being found fault with for having encouraged it. Shocked by her aunt's duplicity, and out of 96 "THE CASKET." patience at her making, as she said, " such a fool of herself," Mrs. llushbrook was not the less alarmed when she reflected how that elderly maiden's inclination to matrimony might en- danger her chance of benefiting by her " little property/' or, in the event of Priscilla outliving her, then of her daughters succeeding to it. Her aunt's obstinacy was well known, and that she delighted to abuse what some one else thought well of. To win her consent to any- thing, it was first necessary to pretend to be averse to it ; whilst to get her to oppose, it was equally important to lead her to imagine you had a particular inclination to it. By yielding to Margaret's solicitation, Mrs. llushbrook felt she should be taking the direct course to drive Miss Hindmarsh into the Captain's arms on any terms, or call forth her amiable antagonism some other way, and do away with the only hope she had of being remembered in her will. She knew her aunt ; she did not know Frederick Arkwright. But she knew enough to be satisfied that he was the very opposite of the man she should wish to be her daughter's hus- band. He was poor ; he was about to go to India; and, prejudiced against him on those ac- counts, she lost no opportunity of speaking slightingly of him ; forbade her daughter even to "THE CASKET." 97 mention his name, and, by siding with her aunt, thought she had not only done the right thing effectually to break off Margaret's engagement, but had taken the readiest means to ingratiate herself in her favour, by way of preparation to the place she hoped some day to find herself set down for in her last will and testament. Frederick had begged but to be heard ; he had desired nothing further; and, writing to Mrs. Rushbrook of his hopes and expectations, ex- plained that his happiness entirely depended on her sanctioning his marriage with her daughter. He confessed his want of fortune, but said he had youth and perseverance : and that his friends' exertions in his favour would stimulate his en- deavours to merit promotion in the profession he had chosen. His father and mother, he stated, had consented to his wish, and, as Miss Hindmarsh was well known to them by report through her long residence inKnaresborough,they looked upon an alliance with a member of her family as being not only desirable, but in every way agreeable. He said nothing about his brother's indignant protestation against the match, nor of his hatred io the whole body of Dissenters. They were to him people so debased in character, being seceders from the Established Church, that he could not endure the thought that a member of his family VOL. i. 7 98 " THE CASKET." should be allied to one of theirs, or to any one indeed not strictly orthodox and wedded to the Church whose tenets he professed, and which said Church he was prepared to uphold as the only one fit for respectable people to belong to. His father and mother would rather that Frede- rick had waited until he became a General at least, before he thought of marrying; but, as he appeared restless and impatient, neglected his studies, and, as Captain Nubbleton assured them, " it was only by marrying early a man could hope to rise in his profession, and that to his being a bachelor he attributed a want of proper recognition of his own merit," Mr. and Mrs. Arkwright con- sented to their son's request, and immediately observed a change in him for the better, as early and late he kept his tutor hard at work, and distracted his elder brother by his wakeful habits and the general activity he displayed, as con- trasted with his own. Mrs. Rushbrook in her reply was cold and formal. She professed herself highly nattered by his offer, but dwelt on her daughter's imprudence as much to be lamented ; and did not conceal her dislike to the profession he had chosen, nor her fears for her daughter's happiness (presuming they were married and forced to live in India). But as it was necessary to put him off indefinitely, "THE CASKET." 99 and place, as she thought, a barrier between them, she begged to inform him, that until Cap- tain Rushbrook returned, no further steps could be taken ; but that the moment he came back he would of course communicate with him. In the meantime she entreated him as a gentleman to abstain from correspondence with her daughter, and await patiently her husband's arrival. Then, satisfied she had put him off for some time at least, she obtained her daughter's promise also to abstain from writing; and, as her engagement was a subject upon which they could not agree, said they had better not talk of it for the sake of all parties. This arrangement having been tacitly agreed upon, a studied silence followed; and, as no allusion was ever made to her daughter's lover, Mrs. Rush- brook began to hope that she had forgotten all about him. But Margaret had not forgotten him ; on the contrary, she cherished his remembrance the more fondly because forbidden to speak of him, and though obliged to be silent before her mother, she enlarged on his merits to her sister ; entered into a league of confidence with her, and declared her mother's prejudice to be not only unjustifiable, but undeserved by her poor Fre- derick, who, she said, was the soul of honour, and deserved the best of treatment instead of the worst. 72 100 " THE CASKET." There was only one occasion on which that silence had ever been broken, or an allusion made to her lover. It was, when her mother had dwelt upon the danger of her father's calling, and of the fears she entertained for his safety, at the time the rain came beating on the windows and the wind rushed by in a tempest, as they sat in terror and suspense listening to the storm. Bat when upon that very night the tidings came of her father's being cast away, and of a nc\v admirer having arrived commissioned by him to claim her hand, a wild conception filled her mind that, matched and mated to that unknown stranger, some terrible result would follow. That, predestined to some calamity, her union with him would as surely bring it about as that her father's ship had foundered, whilst he, her father, by wishing her to be wedded to that man, had but fufillcd some portion of his destiny arising out of his desire unconsciously to interfere with her anticipated happiness. Possessed by dreamy speculation, and dis- tressed by the events so strangely brought about, Margaret went up to her chamber the moment Mark Ellcrton was heard to pass along the street in company with his " dog," leaving behind the influence of his visit in her mother's heightened colour, and the perplexed, though anxious, look " THE CASKET." 101 apparent iu her eye ; then throwing herself upon the bed, she bewailed the sadness of her fate, and the necessity which appeared to draw her close and closer, linking her, as by some unseen chain, to him her father had wished that she should marry. Were then her hopes so soon to fade, and her pictured happiness to pass into forgetfulness ? Were all those rainbow tints, those points of brilliant light, to be smeared out, and in their stead the darkling figure of this man to rise in ominous contrast, like a daub of inky black, griming and defacing what up till then had been so softly blended and so exquisitely toned ? She thought she would write to Frederick and inform him of her position ; then if he should answer, as of course he would, and propose a secret marriage as the only means of preventing their separation, she knew the weakness of her heart too well to question her readiness to fly away and bind her fate irrevocably with his. But with the notion of her selfish views of peace and comfort came the thought of mother and of sister left to bear the load of poverty alone, and the accumulated grief arising from her father's death. Could she so soon forget their sufferings and his loss, or take an unfair 102 "THE CASKET." advantage of their position to contract a marriage against their counsel and advice? She could not bring her mind to this. It was too unnatural, too selfish, and too suggestive of a forgetfulness of that love she had always borne towards her father, and of the love her father had borne to her, even to think of. Then, finding it impossible to sleep, she devised a thousand and a thousand fruitless schemes by which to relieve herself from that stranger's solicitations, and escape the penalty of his love. For of love she knew he would talk by the way he had fixed his eyes on her, as if to read her heart, and satisfy himself it was worth his having; his deep-toned voice impressing her with a sense of awe, and his almost prying look, apparent to her even in the darkness of the room to which she had flown for refuge and reflection. Day by day she expected him to come again expected and yet dreaded his approach ; whilst her mother, dressed in her widow's weeds, sat as if expecting him as* well, and hoping he would come. But she never spoke of him never alluded to him, yet by her manner seemed to be dwelling on the terrible uncertainty of their position, and thinking that if Margaret married him, how her union with a man so rich might lessen the load at home, and make her younger sister's "THE CASKET." 103 prospects more flattering than they appeared to be at present. She was equally silent as to the promise she had made to write to Frederick, but which promise she had never kept ; never once alluded to him, but suffered him to die out and be for- gotten (as she hoped) by Margaret and herself. And yet the stranger never came, nor wrote, but keeping himself aloof, appeared as if he expected to be courted and solicited before he conde- scended to visit them. He had forgotten the presents he had pro- mised, and indeed everything connected with them; though Mrs. Rushbrook still insisted he would come, and said he would have been there before had Margaret been less haughty, or had she expressed herself more gratified by the gifts he said he would send, to show what a brilliant fortune she might secure for herself, and be able to assist her family at the same time, if she only listened to his suit. This constant watching, this ceaseless dread, at last proved so distressing that Margaret grew nervous and excited; and drawing to her corner by the fire as soon as the work-table had been arranged and the lamp was lighted, sat as in a dream, fell into a fit of painful thinking, or start- ing, fancied she heard the stranger at the door, 104 "THE CASKET." and saw his shadow darken the entrance to the room, while his despised follower, peeping over his shoulder, kept looking at her as if to be certain he should know her again if he had only a chance of meeting her on some future occasion. But at the end of a fortnight a letter came from Mr. Ellcrton, not, as they expected, ap- pointing a time when he would call, but to express his regrets that business of importance had prevented his paying his respects before. In the meantime, and to prevent their entirely forgetting him, he informed them he had for- warded a parcel, containing a few articles of no great value, but which he hoped Mrs. Rushbrook would favour him by allowing him to present to herself and daughters, in proof of his regard, and to afford Miss Rushbrook an opportunity to inspect a few of the trifles he had collected in the East. It was not in human nature to be indifferent to gifts so handsomely presented. Mrs. Rush- brook forgot her grief, and even Margaret ap- peared to wake up from her trance, when the servant brought a parcel into the room and said it had been left by the same wild-looking creature she had asked to come in out of the cold and sit by the kitchen fire, on the night the strange gentleman called to see them. The parcel was so heavy the servant had to "THE CASKET." 105 be assisted to place it on the table; and so securely fastened it took some little time to undo it, before they could gratify their curiosity and inspect its contents. But when it was undone, and the contents were actually displayed, a pile of such magnificent fabrics met their eyes, they stood enchanted, and were anxious to know who was to have the first choice of the stranger's presents, and who the next. Upon the top of the costly pile lay an Indian shawl, so elaborate in its device and so rich in its embroidery, that Mrs. Rushbrook positively smiled when she understood th.it it was meant for her, and took it up accordingly. A second shawl was for Margaret, a third for Bertha, and the whole of the content s were arranged for distribu- tion in the same order. The parcel contained silks and muslins, Cash- mere shawls, India fabrics in profuse variety ; and dresses of the most costly and magnificent ma- terial ; but exceeding them all in beauty was a beetle-winged robe of such extraordinary bril- liancy, that Margaret felt herself not a little flattered when she saw her name attached to it, as it was indeed to everything that was cither more costly or better than the rest. But as they searched and searched, they found lying in the midst of tissues worked in threads 106 " THE CASKET." of gold, a square and richly ornamented box, manufactured of the rarest woods, and inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl, and having a highly-chased and curious-looking key in the lock, which, carved in the likeness of a dragon, seemed made on purpose to frighten people from opening it, or peeping inside without first asking leave. No sooner had the key been turned, and after they had thrown back the lid, they met with such a blaze of jewels as completely dazzled them. There were opals, sapphires, pearls, and dia- monds ! Not in single or in sparsely scattered stones, but lying in clusters, and set in solid gold, or in gold elaborately chased ; while in the centre of the case a coil of brilliants of the purest water glittered like a serpent basking in the sun. There seemed to be no end ! Gem succeeded gem in profuse variety, and even Margaret, little as she supposed she could be won by gifts, looked so delighted, it was easy to see she could have expressed her admiration more warmly had she dared to speak her mind. That necklace, and everything in the case, belonged to her ; and, anxious to know how she should look if dressed in them, she clasped the necklace round her throat, then shaking the "THE CASKET." 107 glittering pendants on her breast stood to watch the impression made on her mother and her sister. The effect was instantaneous ! If they were so fascinated by her appearance, what would others be ? What would other people say, and what admiration and delightful envy might she not expect, if, rendered doubly beaTitiful by that, she condescended to appear, and, like an Empress stepping from her throne, won breathless worship from admiring throngs ! Gratified with this slight tribute to her vanity, and perfectly satisfied with the effect produced, she prepared, with a prettily affected shudder, to take the necklace off, but found to her sur- prise that she could not undo the clasp ; but that the fastening had been so contrived that, though it snapped to easily, it required some little trouble to unfasten it. As the necklace was so troublesome to get off, she thought she might as well try on the bracelets, and that one especially with the large bright emerald set in a band of solid gold. No sooner were the bracelets on than she thought she would try on the rings; those beautiful rings placed in a row, and glittering so delightfully, it seemed almost a pity not to put them on. Arrayed and studded like an Indian Queen, 108 " THE CASKET." and complete in everything but the ear-rings, she hooked them on as well, then throwing the beetle-winged robe across her shoulders . held herself erect, and in her girlish vanity thought how beautiful she looked and what a difference a few ornaments made in her appearance. Then with a half-regretful sigh she pulled off the rings, unclasped the jewels from her neck and arms, and seated again in her old corner by the fire, kissed her lover's portrait with increased affec- tion kissed it with a penitential kiss, as if to atone for the fault she had committed, and to beg pardon for her forgetfulness. But as even jewels must give place to sleep though to judge by the looks her mother and sister still cast at them, sleep was the last thing they thought about the lid Avas closed, and the key turned in the lock. As soon as the casket had been put away, and after the shawls and dresses had been carefully folded, Mrs. Rushbrook turned to Margaret with a triumphant glance, and wished to know if she did not think a gentleman like this a gentleman profuse even to extravagance was not better worth her notice than a miserable ensign, whom she !iad met by chance in some out-of-the-way corner, in that wretched hole of a place, Knarcs- borough. "THE CASKET." 109 Margaret said nothing; but, fondly pressing the thin gold rim edging that ensign's portrait, she saw the casket taken away without a tear, without a sigh, and with scarcely a regret. But in her dreams the diamonds clustered in a mass of light ; or, linked and bound together, spanned overhead in one bright arch of varie- gated hues. It was so bright, so exquisitely beautiful, she almost cried when she saw that arch fall down ; its glittering particles melt and fade away, and leave her sighing for their loss. It was late before she woke ; and, even when she woke, she thought she must be dreaming still, or was not thoroughly awake, when she saw the casket on her dressing-table, the lid thrown wide open, the case just slightly tilted, and the jewels glancing back the sunlight in ten thousand specks of light completely dazzling her ! They were all there, the bracelets, rings, and necklace ; and that magnificent beetle-winged robe she had been so charmed with the over- night, and all looking so bright and beautiful she hardly knew how to contain herself. Whoever had placed that casket and the dresses in the room, had had a perfect knowledge of the effect they were likely to produce upon her girlish vanity. The temptation was not to 110 "THE CASKET." be resisted, and leaping out of bed, she took the jewels from the case, and once again inspected her treasures with increased delight. And were they all her own ? those sparkling gems, those splendid, costly dresses ? It was not perhaps a proper thing to do, hating the stranger as she did, and loving Frederick so fondly, to take them up so eagerly, and clasp that snake-like necklace round her throat, or throw the beetle- winged robe across her breast and view herself so proudly in the glass. But she did it for all that. Could she again put on that robe, stand smiling before the glass, behold that necklace round her throat, the rings upon her hands, the bracelets on her arms, and not think kindly of the giver? or at the least think a little more favourably of him than she had done, and believe that if he were not quite worthy of her love, he was, at any rate, deserving of her gratitude and thanks ? Turning to inspect the rest of the presents, and to see which shawl, which robe, or gold-worked tissue would suit her complexion best, she noticed a letter lying on the floor, most probably dropped by some one who had left the room before she woke, or who had purposely placed it there for her to read. "THE CASKET." Ill It was from her great-aunt Hindmarsh ! She knew it at a glance. There was no mistaking her sharp, angular hand, though in the present instance she appeared to have Avritten Avith a sharper pea than ordinary, and taken extra pains to prevent its spluttering. CHAPTER VIII. ANGUS MACLEOD. AFTER looking at it for some time, she took up the letter, and holding it in her hand, appeared undecided what to do. Would it be proper to open a letter dropped accidentally by her mother when she quitted the room after having placed the jewels and the dresses opposite her hoping perhaps she might be tempted to think a little more favourably of Mr. Ellerton by a fresh sight of his presents ? Whether dropped by accident, or left purposely, Margaret did not stay to inquire. She knew there must be something in the letter respecting herself or her lover, and, without more ado, she opened and read it read what she wished she had not read, yet read it the more eagerly because she felt it was a scandalous aspersion, and not at all a likely thing for Frederick to do. AYliat could her aunt mean by it ! He had never injured her, and yet she assailed him as if he had been guilty of some frightful depravity, and declared that he was no sooner tired of one profligacy than he took up with another; and, by ANGUS MACLEOD. 113 outraging all propriety, made himself the com- mon talk of the town. It was not possible that Frederick could be capable of such conduct, or reasonable to suppose all she said of him was true, yet she could not drive away the thought that there must be some ground for the accusa- tion, or her aunt could not have instanced the particular misconduct of which he had been guilty. " It was not only his wildness," her dear great-aunt wrote, " but he was actually rebel- lious, and defied his tutor, and disgraced him upon every possible occasion. Now his tutor was, as everybody knew, a gentleman. He was poor, hut he was estimable. He must be poor/ 3 she said, " to be obliged to submit to the degra- dation of becoming his instructor, and demean himself by accepting his father's money. And all for what ? To have that good-for-nothing pupil do, what the Captain never would do, and which he never could be suspected of doing be seen walking in the fields at the back of her house looking up to her dressing-room window most impertinently, and eyeing the house as if he had a design to break into it, and do them all some bodily injury ." This was a slight relief to Margaret. Those meadows and those fields were full of pleasant VOL. I. 8 114 ANGUS MACLEOD. recollections ; and while her aunt talked of them, she was content to believe in Frederick,, and trust in him as implicitly as before. " But the worst of all/' her great-aunt wrote on, " Avas Ann the cutler's girl, that some one said, he saw walk arm in arm with one of the Arkwrights (and he thinks it was the youngest) more than a month ago across those very fields ; and now the sinful creature has her eyes full of tears, and carefully avoids meadows and men as well. It is not to be endured, Susan, that such a man as this should come into our family with nothing on his back but an Ensign's beggarly coat, to bring disgrace on it by cutler's girls and other girls worse than the cutler's, as I am told, and not so fond of crying as this wicked wench I But it's of no use talking ! Spite of the lessons of your dear departed father, and the lectures, and the holdings forth which I personally at- tend to, these hussies will fly into the arms of the devil, and seem to take delight in nothing else." Thus far her great-aunt's letter was limited to scandal, and enlarging on her own most saintly virtues. Had she confined herself to these, the reputation she attacked, and the scandal in which she indulged, had made little impression. But she had spoken ill of Frederick called him a libertine, and accused him of being mixed up ANGUS MACLEOD. 115 in low amours with cutler's girls, and people infinitely beneath him. She could make allow- ance for her great-aunt's exaggeration ; she knew from old experience the danger of believing every- thing she said, but for all that she felt there must be some truth in the report, and that Frederick had shamefully and cruelly forgotten her. The spark had fallen upon a nature excitable to the least suggestion of inconstancy or neglect, and hurt and pained, jealous and indignant all in a breath with thinking she had been slighted, and how differently she had behaved to him she wrapped the folds of her Indian robe closely about her, and taking the letter in her thickly jewelled hands, she read again. " The news you tell me, Susan, of your hus- band being drowned is, no doubt, a trial to you, and a tribulation difficult to bear by those who cling to the fleshly vanities of life. But as your pious father often said, when speaking to his flock, ( All flesh is grass/ and something after about ' being cut down and mowed.' And so it is with Robert ! He is cut down and mowed, and cast out of the fulness of this land ! It becomes you, therefore, to endure with resignation and be thankful for your pain." 82 116 ANGUS MACLEOD. " And have you not reason to be thankful/' she continued, " when you have such comfort, as you say you have, through this strange gentle- man come over the sea on purpose to marry Margaret, and who, if she has any gratitude, ought to be thankful she has escaped the snares of the evil one (I mean the younger Arkwright) to be enfolded in the arms of a man rich enough to buy up his whole family (which I should not advise), and dress his ' dog' in better clothes than a beggarly ensign's coat, such as he must wear." Some time elapsed before Margaret could con- tinue. The allusion to the stranger had had a most extraordinary effect on her, and she had to wait to recover herself before she could read the letter to the end. " Had she but taken my advice, and done as I desired, I should have told her at first, that a poverty stricken wretch like him was only fit for cutlers' girls, and such as would be glad to marry anybody as would make an honest woman of her. But for Josiah Hindmarsh's daughter's daughter she to fall in love with an ensign, and he not worth a shilling but what his father and mother have saved to go his half in is a tempt- ing of matrimony, as I may say, and a some- ANGUS MACLEOD. 117 thing too dreadful to bear thinking of. Could she not, as other women have been obliged to do (by prudence, not for want of offers, understand that, dear Susan) have had the patience to wait for some twenty or thirty years, and control her passions until this wild young fellow had eaten away his liver, and returned a general or a nabob if he ever lives to be one which I doubt. She could then have exhibited the natural desire of a Christian to relieve the wants of others, and, in the character of a nurse and wife, have comforted a cripple, and relieved a husband at the same time. But it is like the girls, dear Susan, of the present generation ; though I can- not but regard your chastisement as a proper one, for marrying against everybody's wish, and for having a grown-up daughter, when by right you should only be thinking of a husband to bring the plagues of Egypt upon yourself as well as on Your affectionate aunt, " PRISCILLA HINDMARSH." By the time Margaret had finished the letter she became so excited she w r as obliged to rise and walk about to recover herself. She walked rapidly and impatiently, trailing the Indian dress across the floor, utterly indifferent what became of it, and careless of everything since 118 ANGUS MACLEOD. Frederick had proved so worthless and so false. And could he so soon forget her ? Forget those pleasant meetings when her great-aunt was fast asleep and ignorant of her being up and out, and walking in the fields ? Had he for- gotten those stolen whispers, and the silent love they had exchanged by only looking at each other on the night her great-aunt visited the captain's friend, and when he had contrived to meet her there ? And then the homeward walk ! That lingering behind, and the warm pressure of his hand folding and clasping hers ! Was all this to fade, away so soon, her constancy to be slighted, her faith to be neglected, and herself abandoned to make room for cutlers' girls, and creatures of so low a stamp as that ? Had she kept her own pure love intact, opposed her father's and her mother's wishes, and made the stranger understand she never could be his, to meet with a return like this ? Could it, indeed, be true, or had her great-aunt maligned her lover to suit some purpose of her own, and thinking to make her hate him too ? Had she, given to tittle-tattling and to talebearing, heard something ahe could not substantiate, but, taking it for granted, informed her mother of it, hoping she might be able to induce her to break off her ANGUS MACLEOD. 119 present engagement, and accept the addresses of a lover better suited to her fancy ? Distracted by the thought, she determined to wait with patience until she received further and more reliable evidence of her lover's inconstancy before she accepted her aunt's version of his profli- gacy. Should he, on further investigation, be proved as worthless as she said he was, then, but not till then, she resolved to cast him off, as he had cast her off; receive the stranger's attentions favour- ably, and perhaps, in time, consent to marry him. She finished dressing, and, locking up the casket, turned to go downstairs, when she sud- denly remembered that she had left her lover's portrait under her pillow in her anxiety to look at the jewels and the dresses, and would have forgotten all about it had she not been reminded of it by the merest accident. Placing the miniature in its usual resting- place next her heart she went down to break- fast ; and, putting her great-aunt's letter on the table, told her mother she had found it on the floor, but never said a word of having opened and read it. Affecting indifference as to whether she had read the letter or not, Mrs. Rushbrook poured out a cup of tea, and then, pretending to be sur- prised at seeing her look so pale, inquired if she 120 ANGUS MACLEOD. had slept badly, and, on being answered " No/' declared there must be something the matter with her, as she did not eat her breakfast. But as Margaret said she was quite well, with the exception of a slight headache, and did not feel inclined to eat, Mrs. Rushbrook took no further notice, but felt satisfied she had read the letter, and that the " little headache " she com- plained of was owing to the cutler's daughter, and the half a dozen other daughters, with whom, according to her aunt, the young ensign was supposed to be intriguing. Here was a chance for Mr. Ellerton ! His presents had come just in time, and unless Margaret proved an exception to the generality of her sex, his liberality would have a good effect on her; more especially as something had hap- pened to set her at variance with her old lover, and make her more inclined to listen to a new one. " It strikes me, Margaret," said Mrs. Rush- brook, as she sipped her tea and put another lump of sugar in it, " that Mr. Ellerton must have had a great regard for your poor father if we may judge by the kindness he shows his family. He is evidently a man of considerable ability, and has undoubtedly a great command of money. Had your poor dear father been alive, there would, of course, be no occasion for ANGUS MACLEOD. 121 assistance. He would have protected us, and cared for us, and relieved us from our present misery ! But he dear Robert ! " In trying to work upon her daughter's feelings, she unconsciously touched upon her own, and, bursting into tears, could not speak another word. After a short time devoted to the usual resto- ratives, she was able to go on again. " It would be useless, my dear child, to pain you hy a repetition of the objection I have to your marrying a man who would be compelled to reside abroad, and where you, of course, would have to live with him. I have already explained my views upon the subject, and the powerful dislike I have to the army as a profession. It is not possible for any man (a young man and a poor man especially) to rise in the service under such disadvantages as you would impose upon him. As a single man it would be difficult enough, but for a married man a man with a family perhaps " " But, mother " " He may be perfectly honourable and de- serving that is, as honourable and deserving as a wild, reckless young fellow can be ; but who can answer for the sins of youth, or hope to check its folly and extravagance ? Young men, we know, arc easily led astray, and easily tempted. 122 ANGUS MACLEOD. We also know that their indulging in improper fancies frequently brings misery on their too confiding wives, or on those Avho have trusted their affections to them, but who, as is too fre- quently the case, often discover Avhen it is too late that they have only been trifled with to make room for some improper and fearfully immoral connection." Had there been any doubt of Margaret's having read the letter, her flushed neck and face would have supplied the proof. As it was, she sat, scarlet with confusion, and so painfully affected, it was of no use her trying to conceal it. " Young men, as I have said before (Mrs. Rushbrook was perfectly unconscious of any change in her daughter) are naturally of a vicious turn. It is only when men have arrived at a proper knowledge of the real meaning of their transgressions they can be said to be worthy of the name of husbands, or are able to settle down to one unselfish and confiding love. You have an example of this in Mr. Ellerton, who, as far as I can judge, has arrived at that happy time of life when men, whilst they retain their passions, are circumspect, and less likely to trifle with a wife's anxiety, either by improper conduct or neglect." " He is forty at the least/' said her younger daughter, with an expression as much as to say, ANGUS MACLEOD. 123 " he was a great deal too old for her or Margaret either/' " And what of that ? Are men at forty to be considered old ? On the contrary, at forty, men are in the prime of life, as women are at twenty." " Was father forty when he married you?" inquired Bertha. " No ; but then he had had considerable expe- rience, and was able to withstand the snares and fascinations of the world, quite as well as if he had been older. But that is nothing. One man's good or bad is no proof of another's good or bad. Yet judging from appearances, and from what I have heard, I am inclined to entertain a most favourable opinion of Mr. Ellertou, and shall always consider it my duty to think well of him, as he was your father's friend, and trusted by him to bring home his last dear wishes." A shuffling outside the door fortunately put a stop to further discussion, or Mrs. Rushbrook might have found herself in a minority when speaking in the face of an opposition evidently dead against her on the important question of the proper age at which a man should marry. The interruption had been occasioned by the delivery of a letter, which, the servant said, the strange gentleman's man had brought and was waiting for an answer. 124 ANGUS MACLEOD. It was, indeed, from Ellerton, and asking per- mission to pay his respects the following evening, when he trusted to have the pleasure of finding Mrs. Rushbrook and her daughters in perfect health, and at liberty to receive him. The letter must be answered of course, but a^ Mrs. Rushbrook complained of rheumatism in her shoulder, and as Bertha had cut her finger, Margaret was told to sit down and write (at her mother's dictation), and inform Mr. Ellerton that they should be delighted to see him at the time mentioned, when they hoped to have an oppor- tunity of thanking him personally for the hand- some presents he had been so kind as to send them. Whether the rheumatism was real or pretended mothers alone can tell. But as Margaret wrote an excellent hand, it may be presumed that Mrs. Rushbrook availed herself of a sudden twinge as an excuse to avoid writing, and get Margaret to write in her stead to show what a beautiful hand she wrote, and to let Mr. Ellerton see what an accomplished wife she would make. Margaret wrote the letter; then seized with sudden curiosity, she slipped out of the room to take a look at the messenger and see how far he realised the description given of him by his master, and if he were really so uncouth as he had stated him to be. ANGUS MACLEOD. 125 Her mother was pouriug out a glass of wine for the " poor fellow/' and did not observe her leave the room, so that on getting into the passage she had an opportunity to cast a quick glance at him as she ran upstairs to her room, and saw iiim leaning with his back against the street- door, lounging and stretching, and half asleep with waiting, though, to judge by his manner, not in a hurry to shift his quarters or move from where he was. She also noticed that his hair was long and ragged, while his listless* almost sullen look, struck her as indicating either obsti- nacy or indifference, and as a sign that his in- tellect was of the lowest order, and his perception none of the quickest. He was strongly built, but of no great height, while his lolling against the door convinced her he would not object to lie down on the mat and go to sleep if he only had the opportunity. There was no vitality in his eye ; no cunning, and not even a glance of curiosity, as far as she could detect, during the time she had for observing him. He seemed so utterly lazy and indifferent so careless of what people thought, and what they did, she began to question the correctness of the comparison made between the dog and him, and thought that the dog had some reason to com- plain of the simile made at his expense. 12'J ANGUS MACLEOD. She was half way up the stairs when she heard the dining-room door open, and on leaning over the baluster, saw the servant give him a glass of wine, and the letter she had written at her mother's dictation. He drank the wine without thanking the girl, put the letter in his pocket, then swinging back the door, slammed it after him, and without more ado went off; leaving the servant indignant at his want of manners, and Margaret to reflect that out of the whole ship's crew he should have been the one to be saved, and the only person she seemed intuitively to have a dread of without knowing wherefore. CHAPTER IX. AN UNEXPECTED CLAIM. ANGUS was not a beauty. He was ugly, but not so terribly ugly as Margaret appeared to think, nor so repulsive in his aspect as she would have led people to imagine had they seen her look out of her bedroom window and watch him clown the street as though she apprehended some dreadful calamity was about to fall on her through him or by his agency. Poor faithful Angus, whose only fault at pre- sent was his attachment to his master ; his listless idle manner, his drowsy look, and the way he propped himself against the door as a convenient resting-place. Surely there was nothing so pecu- liarly terrible in this ; and yet she looked out after him as if she half expected he would return and endeavour to do her some personal injury. And was it possible a wretch so stupid and so dull could have the passionate love of life Ellertou said he had ? Could he have such full enjoyment of that life the thought of losing it filled him with despair ? It was not much, she thought, to lose a life, surrounded as it too often is, by pain and 128 AN UNEXPECTED CLADI. misery, and hardly worth the keeping at the best. It was not much a bucket of the ocean, a pinch of the sea sand when reckoned against the millions of the earth who die and are not missed, are never inquired for, and scarcely even thought about. Yet this dull, heavy-looking man could value his life, hold by it, and cling to it, as though the parting with it were something horrible, and his dread of death a constant, an engrossing fear. It was no fault of his if his master loved her. He was not responsible for that ; and yet she linked the two together, and thought of them, as though the love of the one and the gratitude of the other were destined to destroy her peace, and make her whole existence dependent on the union existing between them. There was a brutal ruffian on the other side of the street driving a poor child before him, shouting and cursing, and threatening unheard- of vengeance on any one who dared to come near him. But he was nothing when compared with Angus. He was simply a ruffian, and could be punished as he deserved to be. But Angus was a thousand times more terrible. His very footsteps seemed to leave a trace of fire and blood behind, and though she closed her eyes and tried to forget that she had ever seen him, she could not help thinking that she saw him AN UNEXPECTED CLAIM. 129 still saw him and dreaded him as much as ever. It was impossible to explain this feeling; she only knew it was so. It was no doubt foolish and unreasonable to be so prejudiced against a man she had never seen before, and perhaps should never see again ; yet absurd as it appeared to be, she could not help thinking of him, nor cease being tormented by him, the more she endea- voured to forget him. Then, as if her one small chance of happiness depended on her immediate action, she resolved to write to Frederick and satisfy herself of his constancy or forgetfulness without delay. Her mother had promised to write to him, and tell him all, but she had not done so. He knew nothing of her father's death, and, unacquainted with her position, was left in ignorance of that stranger who had come at his express desire to make her an offer of his hand. To remain in her present state of suspense she felt to be impossible ; and as her mother's silence furnished her with an excellent excuse, she de- termined to write and let him know what had happened ; explain the sad calamity that had be- fallen them, and how she Avas situated. She could not, of course, hint at what she had heard of his profligate habits. She could not VOL. i. 9 130 AN UNEXPECTED CLAIM. even touch on his presumed neglect of her, nor refer to it, without compromising herself, and leading to an open rupture with her great-aunt. Yet, to avoid it was not so easy, nor so agreeable to have to write to a lover in terms of fondness, or speak of her own truth, at the very time that she doubted his, and had reason to suppose that he had proved himself unworthy of her affection. Should Frederick still declare his passion un- abated write to her in terms of fondness and regard reply (as she felt sure he would do) and tell her of his disappointment and misery at not having heard from her before all her fears would vanish ! She would be happy and contented once again ; able to endure her mother's constant talking in the stranger's favour, and, certain of her lover's faith, be prepared to resist temptation with the utmost fortitude. Should he, on the contrary, betray the slightest wavering ; lead her to suppose he wished their engagement broken off, or by a coldness of expression induce her to believe what had been said against him, her mother should have her way. She would consent to sacrifice herself to please her, and, in hopes to contribute to her comfort, accept the life of misery she felt must follow her marriage with the stranger. Should Frederick not reply, let him not blame AN UNEXPECTED CLAIM. 131 lier if she accepted another. It would be entirely }iis own fault. He would have to answer for the misery and the grief to come if, through his for- getfulness and neglect of the vows he had sworn, he drove her into the arms of a man whose thoughts were not her thoughts, whose temper was opposed to hers, and whose suspicious dis- position, ill-assorting with her own, might lead to jealous doubts and ceaseless misgivings the one of the other. By way of showing Mr. Ellerton the impor- tance she attached to his visit, Mrs. Rushbrook had ordered a nice little supper to be ready by the time their business matters were over, when they could pass the evening in a little pleasant talk ; sit down to their meal, and feel so perfectly at home, who knew how soon he might wish to become a member of a family so thoroughly united, and so perfectly well-mannered. Margaret was to sit next him, that was im- perative. Bertha next her mother, and to be sure and keep herself in the background (she always did), so that Mr. Ellerton might have an opportunity to converse with Margaret, and perhaps convince her he was not so disagreeable as she supposed him to be. But on one thing Mrs. Rushbrook particularly insisted, that Margaret should wear one of the rings he had given her, to 92 132 AN UNEXPECTED CLAIM. show how much she valued his presents, and how uncommonly handsome her hand looked when properly set off. But as Margaret would not consent to this,, and said it would appear a slight to her father's memory to be dressed in jewels when they were in mourning, Mrs. Rushbrook was forced to be contented ; but for all that, she did not seem to think her daughter's objection the only one she could have urged had she been at liberty to say exactly what she thought. " Oh, by all means, my dear, please yourself, and do not let me be supposed to have a voice in the matter. I only spoke out of consideration to Mr. Ellerton, who would naturally expect to see some of the beautiful rings he sent you worn on the occasion of his visit. But if it can't be, why of course it can't ; you know best I dare- say, and have more regard for your poor father's memory than I have. Had he lived he would have exacted obedience at a word, whilst I have almost to go upon my knees to beg of my children to do what they ought to do without my telling, and which they would do if they had any regard to their own advantage* But they haven't. They are obstinate and self-willed, and wont bear to be taught by people older than themselves, who arc naturally more thoughtful and experienced." AN UNEXPECTED CLAIM. 133 Mrs. Rushbrook finished her oration by a violent fit of sobbing, and only stopped short of tears when she reflected what a fright she would look if Mr. Ellerton happened to come a little earlier than they expected and saw her eyes looking as red as the dining-room curtains. She had another reason : Margaret was quite as ready to cry as herself, and what a scene they should make between them at a momentous time .like that, the most important perhaps in the course of their whole lives, and when they ought to en- deavour to appear to the best possible advantage. It Avas six o'clock. He had promised to come at that time, and by a quarter past, she doubted not he would be there. Were not those his footsteps halting at the door ? and that his knock ? Of course they were ; and that the same low whisper he had spoken in on the night he asked for her before ? She was positive and certain of it ! Margaret thought so too, trembled and turned pale, but changed as suddenly when the servant brought in a card and said a gentleman wished to see her mistress. " Blissett, Mr. William Blissett," said Mrs. Rushbrook, looking at the card. She had never heard the name before, and had not the remotest notion who it could be. 134 AN UNEXPECTED CLAIM. What were they to do ? The table was already- laid for supper in the next room, and it would look positively ridiculous to ask the gentleman in there. It was a most unusual hour for any one, not intimately acquainted with the family, to call; but since he must come in, and as his business might be presumed to be of importance by his coming so unseasonably, Mrs. Rushbrook told the servant to ask the gentleman in, since the sooner he came in the sooner they should get rid of him. The servant disappeared, Mrs. Rushbrook and her daughters seated themselves with as little appearance of being put out as possible, and preserved as strict a propriety of demeanour as under the circumstances they could be expected to assume ; when the door opened, and in walked a little white-headed old gentleman, that she at first took to be a begging parson, or the New River Waterworks, she could not quite say which. The gentleman made a bow. Mrs. Rushbrook motioned him to be seated, and sat prepared to listen to what he had to say. But this required a little preparation. Instead of at once informing her of the nature of his visit, the little white-headed gentleman first took off his gloves, smoothed them out on his knee, AN UNEXPECTED CLAIM. 135 rolled them up, then rubbing his little white head of hair, he expressed himself as follows : " You will excuse me, madam, I am sure and you, young ladies, I am satisfied will be equally good-natured, and forgive my presenting myself before you without an introduction. But as there were two ways of doing an unpleasant thing, I thought you would be better pleased if I chose a neighbourly in preference to a profes- sional way. I would also Avish you to understand that, in whatever character I am compelled by my instructions to make myself disagreeable to you, either as a lawyer or a neighbour, you will at least believe I would wish to prepare you for most distressing news as pleasantly as I can." And could that little white-headed old gentle- man sit there patting his gloves, and not take into consideration the agony he had kept them in, talking of what they could not understand ? What could he mean by it ? What could he be thinking of? Or had he really some dreadful news to communicate, and some fresh calamity to announce. Was it (as Mrs. Rushbrook half began to fear) to tell them that her intended son-in-law had gone out of his mind, or worse, had committed suicide ; that, afraid of her daughter's refusing him, he had precipitated himself over London 130 AN UNEXPECTED CLAIM. Bridge rather than expose himself to her un- kindness. Convinced it was something dreadful, she startled the old gentleman by saying " For gracious sake, my amiable and dear good sir, what business can you have, to make this preface necessary, as you say it is ? Has he really dashed himself to pieces against the parapet of the bridge, or blown his brains out j or what other terrible calamity has happened to so generous a friend to make us tremble as we sit, where for the last quarter of an hour we have been expecting him, and thought he had come when you knocked, and so very like him, I could have declared I saw his hand upon the knocker/' " Miadam \" said the gentleman, opening his eyes and pocketing his gloves, " I am afraid I have not had the happiness to make myself understood. What I said had certainly no re- ference to a parapet or a bridge, neither did I refer to any one half so foolish or so mad as to blow his brains out provided he had any, which I doubt. I merely stated and perhaps you will permit me to explain again that I should prefer acting towards you as a friend rather than as a lawyer. That, instead of sending a most un- pleasant person to call on you with a slip of AN UNEXPECTED CLAIM. 137 paper to enforce this claim, I should wish you to forget that I am professionally engaged against you, and to believe that I am anxious to render you every assistance in my power in this most unfortunate affair. This was the explanation I was about to offer, and " " But, sir, you give us no explanation. You do not even hint at what you mean/' the widow interrupted, forgetting the little oppor- tunity she had given him to be explicit, and how she had stopped him in the midst of what he had to say " and I feel bound -to tell you that your extraordinary visit at this inconvenient and un- usual time, is not at all a proper one for ladies to receive. We have enough trouble of our own to bear, without listening to something horrible about somebody else whose business you have to transact, and who you say will call to enforce something, which for aught I know may be equally preposterous with the notion of his having destroyed himself" " I wish with all my heart it may prove as pre- posterous as you suppose," replied the lawyer. " But it is not. And though as a matter of business I am bound to look after my client's in- terest, yet in this particular instance I should have been better pleased had they employed some one else to sue for the recovery of a debt out of 138 AN UNEXPECTED CLAIM. the estate of a departed friend, or distress his widow at so unseasonable a time." " If, sir, you would wish to be clearly under- stood/' said Mrs. Rushbrook, growing pale and nervous in spite of her endeavour to appear calm, " I must beg of you to be saving of your words, and as concise as possible in reference to this preposterous notion of any claim any friend of my dear departed husband can have on me. He had but one friend in the world and when you knocked, I thought " " May he prove as good and true a friend, as I am afraid your exigencies require. But since you wish me to be brief and to explain, I will at once inform you that I have this day received instructions from Messieurs Jarvis and Taverner (whose London agent I have the honour to be), on behalf of Middlemist and Co., merchants of Bristol, to whom the estate of the late Captain Rushbrook (I deeply sympathise with you on his loss, dear madam) is indebted in the sum of five hundred pounds for goods supplied to the late Captain, and shipped by him to Jamaica. Now there is no possible question but that this sum would have been duly paid had the Captain re- turned to England. But, unfortunately, he did not ; and therefore Messieurs Jarvis and Co. have empowered rne to institute legal proceedings on AN UNEXPECTED CLAIM. 139 the part of their principals, who are creditors to the estate, for the recovery of the debt." " Creditors ! But I tell you I have no cre- ditors, and never had. I don't know what a creditor means, and don't wish to know. So Taverner and Co. and Middlemist and Co. had better mind what they are about and not talk nonsense of this sort, or they may repent it/' said Mrs. Rushbrook, not ' quite knowing what she said, but determined to say something to let him see she was not to be imposed upon. " Now, being a neighbour," resumed the little white-headed old gentleman, " and having heard of your bereavement, I thought, instead of writing as we lawyers do, sharply and formally, that on my return from the City I would take the liberty to inform you personally (I hope not unkindly) of the most distressing duty I am called upon to discharge in accordance with the instructions received this day from Bristol, so that you might reflect upon the matter at your leisure, and come to some arrangement by which a part, if not the whole, of the claim could be settled." That something dreadful Avas about to fall on her, Mrs. Rushbrook was now convinced. She could not make out precisely what the lawyer said, but she knew enough to be satisfied she was ruined and undone ! that the little she 140 AN UNEXPECTED CLAIM. had left of -worldly means would soon be snatched away, and her daughters and herself be with- out a home ! Margaret saw her mother's agony and her sister's grief; and as she watched the lawyer's compassionating look felt certain they were com- pletely ruined. She did not weep, but kissing her mother fondly, tried to cheer her up, spoke hopefully and confidently, and assured her their condition was not so desperate as she imagined, but that she and her sister would work for her, and keep her house above her head, let the worst come to the worst. Then, from watching their despair, the thought came stealing over her, that if those jewels were indeed her own, how quickly would she part with them, pay her father's debt, and make her mother and her sister happy. But they were not. They were meant to deck Mark Ellerton's bride, and unless she were his bride, she felt she would submit to any degradation rather than keep them, however tempted, and in spite of anything her mother could say or do to urge her to the contrary. She turned to look, partly attracted by a movement of the lawyer's, and partly with a view to comfort her mother when she saw to her amazement that Ellerton was already in the room. CHAPTER X. A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. ELLERTOX advanced a step towards her, on seeing that he was observed, but as suddenly drew back when he saw how pale she looked, and that her mother and her sister were in tears ; whilst the white-headed old gentleman, fidgeting on his chair, first turned to him, then to her, and by a variety of twistings seemed to denote extreme discomfiture; as he first pulled out his hand- kerchief, then put it back, and when he really seemed to want it, took out his gloves instead, and wiped his eyes with them. That that little white-headed gentleman had to do with the state he found the widow and her daughters in, admitted of no dispute. Ellerton saw it at a glance, and beckoning him into a corner, he conversed with him in whispers for a few minutes, then gave him his card, wrote something in his pocket-book, and presented himself to the asto- nished eyes of Mrs. Rushbrook, who, glancing up, beheld him through her tears, and looking dreadfully unhappy, burst out crying afresh. Ellerton took her hand, and whispering some- 142 A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. thing in her ear, smiled encouragingly at Bertha as if to tell her to be at ease, and not distress herself then moving towards Margaret he took her trembling hand in his, held it with a gentle pressure, and watched her as she blushed with the tenderest regard. But the most extraordinary change was in the little white-headed old gentleman, as he first rubbed up his hair, then drew his hand across his eyes ; pulled out his handkerchief, and turned to look at something on the wall ; blew his nose vio- lently, then turning about displayed as pleasant a countenance as ever old gentleman yet wore ; his eyes only half dried, and his hair twisted, as if a hundred pocket corkscrews had been growing out of his head. " Do good by stealth and blush never mind the rest/' said he, " so long as good is done it little matters how or when. And that re- minds me I can't exactly say why it does, but it does that Mrs. Blissett will be wondering where on earth I have got to, and if the whole of Barnard's Inn hasn't been burnt down, and my unfortunate carcase left crackling like a skin of parchment in a blaze of my own making." This most extraordinary jargon might, as Mrs. Rushbrook felt, have been abbreviated with ad- vantage. But as she saw how delighted the little A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. 143 gentleman looked as he shook hands with Ellerton, and how heartily Mr. Ellerton shook hands with him, she thought she would take no notice, but per- mit him to wink and twinkle his little grey eyes at her, as if by that extravagant and improper con- duct he wished to convince her she had no occa- sion to be alarmed, and that Middlemist and Co. were as good as nowhere. Without attempting an explanation as to why he looked so pleased or winked and nodded so improperly, Mr. Blissett prepared to go; expressed himself delighted to have had the honour of making her acquaintance, and offering his hand (Mrs. Rushbrook hardly knew what to do with it), shook it cordially and exclaimed " It was with the greatest possible regret that, as a neighbour, I felt bound to make you miser- able. I did it with the greatest repugnance, my dear madam ; but I am happy to say my neigh- bourly visit (little as I expected it) has been at- tended with a most satisfactory result. I wish you a very good evening, madam. I wish you young ladies an equally pleasant one, and may we all (this with a sly glance at Margaret) have as true and excellent a friend as (here it was necessary to take the card out of his pocket, for he had forgotten the name) as Mr. Ellerton. And now I really must go, or Mrs. Blissett, as I 144 A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. said before (she will be delighted to see you, I am sure) will be sending the bellman after me to have me cried, to say nothing of the tea getting as cold as ice, and the muffins tough as leather/* It was not until the street door had shut out the little lawyer that Mrs. Rushbrook was able to comprehend what had really happened. That fussy little gentleman had so bewildered her, first by Middlemist and Co., then by Taverner, she thought he must be mad ! But now he was gone, she began to distract herself by impossible conjectures again, until Ellerton informed her he had made an appointment with Mr. Blissett at his office, when he had no doubt the matter he came about would be arranged to her entire satis- faction. She knew what that meant well enough ; that he had made himself responsible for his friend's debt, and meant to relieve her of all difficulty by paying it himself. Yet to be relieved by a comparative stranger; to be obliged by him, and feel how helpless she was to assist herself, shocked her sensibility and rendered her a little less de- lighted than she otherwise would have been at this additional proof of her hoped for son-in-law's unbounded liberality. Ellerton refused even to be thanked; laughed away all notion of obligation, and set them A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. 145 laughing too, when he explained how he had arrived at the door just at the moment the ser- vant opened it to a runaway knock ; and, seeing them in the room, he had taken the liberty to step inside ; and, how unobserved, had been a wit- ness to the distress the little lawyer's visit had ^occasioned them. Margaret had been aware of this before her mother ; and, knowing how he had relieved them, although her pride was hurt, she, at the same time, fully appreciated his kindness and did ample justice to his generous conduct towards them; and, thanking him for the service he had rendered them, begged him to believe that nothing short of neces- sity could excuse the obligation under which he had placed her poor dear father's most unhappy family. But, as Mrs. Rushbrook thought a change in the conversation might be agreeable, and as she particularly wished to know how her future son- in-law had passed his time since the occasion of Ms former visit, she said " Your business engagements are less pressing than they were, I hope, and will afford us the opportunity to see you often. That is, as often as you choose to come to this humble roof, from which God in his wisdom has removed the prop, .and forced us to be indebted to your kindness in, our time of trouble." VOL. i. 10 146 A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. " You will be glad to know that they are less urgent than they were, though my affairs still require time and ability on the part of my solicitors to bring them to a settlement. The chief difficulty I have had to encounter has arisen from the neglect of my father to make his will. Dying intestate, his freehold property and estates here and abroad are left in this position ; that, though I may be able to acquire possession in default of a more immediate heir, yet should my brother, against our expectations, be proved to be alive, or to have married and had a son, then that brother, or that son, can oust me from pos- session, and call on me for restitution of all and everything I may have improperly enjoyed during my occupation/' " You have a brother, then ?" said Mrs. Rush- brook, with rather an uneasy look. " I had, but he is dead; there can be no doubt of that. It is a story for a fireside, and, as I have no secrets, I should wish you to know some- thing of my family, provided you will allow me to explain as much as I know of it myself, so that there may be no mystery between us, and no concealment on one side or the other." " If it will not be troubling you, and you are quite satisfied it is not to gratify any idle curiosity of mine or my daughters," said Mrs. Rushbrook. A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. 147 " On the contrary, I wish particularly an ex- change of confidence ; and, as I hate all shifting, and think a blunt confession infinitely better than a half-and-half avowal, I shall be glad of an op- portunity to explain, with a view to avoid all future misunderstandings. Depend upon it this course is the best. It saves the possibility of after trouble and annoyance, since, by explaining everything at first, all doubts are cleared away, and subsequent disagreement prevented. Where this is not the case, and mutual confidence is not implicitly adhered to, it is only natural to sus- pect that what was not confessed at first (should it be afterwards discovered) was concealed for some sufficient reason, or because some disagree- able history rendered concealment necessary ." And here again Margaret detected that strange peculiarity of eye and mouth she had noticed on his previous visit ; explaining what her father had said of him, and realizing to the full the character he had given of him. She saw it as plainly as if it had been written on his face ; and, observing the distrustful look with which he eyed about, felt satisfied that nothing would ever re- move an impression he had once formed, and no human power lessen the natural suspicion and distrust peculiar to his character. " See/' he said, as Margaret took her seat in 102 148 A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. her old corner by the fireplace, and he sat next to her, "how readily we fall into our proper places as though we were used to them, and were indeed a family party met to listen on this long autumn night to the story of an old man and his two sons; to hear the tale told by the surviving son of how that father died, and how his elder son was lost, leaving the younger to explain their history, to dwell upon their endings, and enlarge upon his own wild doings, before he follows them to the world to come." " God's will be done \" exclaimed the widow, " and may penitence and a life of humiliation prepare us for our end." a My father was an only son, and inherited one of the largest estates in Jamaica ; but as it was necessary personally to superintend its culti- vation, he went abroad, married, and, by the time his son was ten years old, had become one of the richest proprietors in the West Indies. But as he wished to send his son to college, to qualify him for the prominent position he hoped he would ultimately take, he returned to England, left the management of his estates to the care of a trusty factor, and, accompanied by his wife and son, resolved to settle down in his native land, enjoy his riches, and make his only boy a credit to his name." A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. 149 " Had he taken my advice, he, would first have instructed him in religious exercise, so that he might have been able to keep Beelzebub at his feet, and trample him in the dust," said Mrs. Rushbrook. " His ambition was to see his son rise to be a dignitary of the Church, or an ornament to the Bench. But in the event of his not evidencing the requisites for professional eminence, then to make him a merchant ; and, as he had the means to back him in the largest undertakings, hoped he might eventually aspire to civic honours become a City magnate, and known throughout the world as a man famous for his extensive dealings and prosperous career/' " Only to think of that ! And with all that quantity of money at his command ! Now what I mean to say is, had that money been properly applied " " He found him, to his disappointment, not only averse to study, but disinclined to trade. He had no taste for either, and, as he openly exclaimed against a counting-house or an office, my father had some difficulty in knowing what to do with him, until in despair at his wilfulness, he made up his mind to return to Jamaica to see what effect a change would have on him. Every- thing was arranged for his departure, and the 150 A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. ship about to sail, when his wife fell sick aiid died." " She was infinitely better off. Snatched from this sinful world, she " " His mother's death sobered his son a little, and my father began to hope he might turn over a new leaf, leave off his idle courses, and busy him- self in the management of the fine estate he had recently purchased in the Weald of Kent. He would do neither, though he was fond of field sports, and appeared to delight in the amusements of a country life. These suited him, and, having nothing else to do, he soon became the most idle and do-nothing fellow for miles about ; dis- liked everything that had the aspect of regu- larity about it, and would not even sleep in a house if he could find a haystack or a hedge to sleep under instead." " I never heard of such a thing ! Sleep under a hedge \" " The perversity of children (we know it for a fact) by one of those unknown rules of nature, increases the affection of parents instead of dimi- nishing it. And so it proved with my father and his son. The one anxious to please, the other careless and indifferent to attention or regard. Nothing suited him, nothing contented him, unless to lead a wild and wandering life, A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. 151 and keep himself aloof from all association with his home. These grew at last so noticeable, and his wanderings so frequent, my father let him have his way, hoping he might grow tired of them, and settle down after a time a wiser and a better man. But he grew worse and worse ; went off for weeks and weeks ; returned but to go off again, and add to his father's misery when he thought of the impossibility of curing him of his wild and wilful practices. Now, as nothing was known of where he went or what he did during his absence, my father resolved to have a watch set on him, so that he should at least be satis- fied what became of him, and in what way he passed his time. The information he received puzzled him more than ever. Unwilling to believe a son of his could have taken such a fancy in his head, he determined to convince himself by the evidence of his own eyes whether the report were true or false ; took upon himself the office of a spy, and, guided by the farm servant he had employed to watch, went out in the middle of the night to seek his truant son/' " He found him ? " " Exactly as he had been told asleep under a tent, and camping with a troop of gipsies in a sequestered spot a mile or two from home." 152 A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. " Gipsies ! How very strange/' said Mar- garet. " And very wicked too !" said Mrs. Rush- brook. " Only to think of a child of mine sleeping in so preposterous a manner ! Fancy one of you, my dears, sleeping on a bundle of straw in a gipsy's tent, which is more like the top of a carrier's cart than anything I know of/' " It was some time before my father could believe his eyes, or satisfy himself it was indeed his son ; but, after pondering awhile upon the strangeness of his conduct, he came to the con- clusion that he had been attracted by some bright-eyed damsel of the troop, who, thinking he might be fool enough to marry her, had led him on to become a convert to her Bohemian creed, and prove as smoke-dried and indifferent to household comforts as herself. Passing from tent to tent, he saw old women, children, and dark, sallow men, all fast asleep, but not the girl ; rough-coated horses tethered to the ground, carts propped on their shafts, and dogs tied to the wheels, or crouching under them, but which, on hearing him approach, barked savagely, and roused the sleepers to look and see what had alarmed them if some tramp were on the prowl, or their horses broken loose when, startled from A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. 153 his sleep, and sitting on his bed of straw, the son beheld his father, the father his son." "A second Bampfylde MooreCarew," exclaimed the widow. " Convinced of the uselessness of contention at a time like that, and in such company, my father beckoned to him, told him to follow, and took him home. Resolved to keep him for the future more under his control, and if possible to put a stop to his herding with gipsies, he shut him in a chamber built like a guard-room to the house, and flattered himself he should be able to pre- vent his wanderings by keeping him locked up by night and watched over by day ; to exhaust him by constant exercise, and then, perhaps, he fancied he might be glad to sleep in his bed, and not in the tent where he had found him. For a day or two all went well enough. The son pro- mised to obey, and my father entertained a hope that his discipline had tamed him down. But on the fifth morning he had the mortification to hear that he had escaped, though by what means he had quitted the chamber remained a mystery, for the door was locked and chained, and the window, independent of stout iron bars set firmly in the stonework, was far above his reach. How, then, had he got away ? His gipsy friends could not have pulled his body through the 154 A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. grating, and the door could not have been forced without some signs of violence. But there were none ; nothing was disturbed, and only the un- pleasant fact remained that he had escaped, but by what means it was useless to speculate. Incensed at his disobedience, and roused at last to assert his authority, my father determined to bring him to his senses, or have done with him for ever. There was no time to be lost. Accom- panied by two or three servants, he set out pre- pared to carry him back by force, if necessary, and reclaim him from his wild habits, let the consequence be what it would/' " Did he succeed ?" " He found, to his disappointment, the camp deserted, the gipsies gone, and the whole brood vanished ! He had hoped to catch him in his old quarters, and asleep; but he saw nothing of him nor the gipsies. Nothing remained to tell of their visit but burnt-out ashes, bones, old rags, and a battered kettle or two left behind as use- less. All else were gone horses, dogs, carts, tents, and the whole community of gipsy life swept away as if by magic, and the old green lane deserted for some other place." " But your father ? " " Followed them from one haunt to another, beat up their quarters in far outlying places, and A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. 155 hunted for them half over the land, yet never succeeded in coming up with them, until, worn out by grief and disappointment, he gave over the pursuit, forbade his son's name ever to be men- tioned, publicly announced his intention to disin- herit and disown him, but mourned in secret, and, forgetting all but his old love for him, cherished his memory with his usual fondness." " Poor gentleman ! I can't help feeling for him V said Mrs. Rushbrook, availing herself of the pause to express her sentiments on the ingratitude of children generally, and of her own especially. " He did everything, I am sure, to teach him better. But children now-a-days are not to be taught. They know better than any- body, and parents must hold their tongues for fear of making matters disagreeable/' Without waiting to discuss the relative merits of parents and of children, Ellerton resumed his story, and slightly offended Mrs. Eushbrook by his indifference to her observation after the pains she had taken to say what she had said, in hopes to make her daughter a little more kind to him. " Effectually to draw his mind away from thinking of him, and fill his vacant heart with a new affection, my father looked about for a second partner ; succeeded in his wish, married a second time, and had a second son. But the 156 A FATHER AND HIS TWO SONS. mother died at his birth, and left my father for a second time a widower." "Dear! dear!" said Mrs. Rushbrook,