1
 
 HOLME LEE. 
 
 There is a class of morlern writers who have peculiar claims to 
 encourajjenient — that brave and wise, true-hearted and conscien- 
 tious order of female authors, ranguig from Alaria Edgeworth to 
 Julia Kavanagh ; who, drawing from keen personal observation 
 of life, and inspired by the pure sentiment of humanity, have, 
 during tlie last century, furnished English and American homes 
 witii innocent literary entertainment. Many of these women 
 support a widowed mother or an unfortunate sister by their 
 writings; tliere is no sickly sentiment, no false views of life in 
 their stories, but beautiful descriptions of nature, elevating revela- 
 tions of domestic life, instructive delineation of character. Mrs. 
 Gaskill and Grace Aguilar, Miss Youge and Miss Sewall, Mrs. 
 Olipiiant and Miss Ferrier, and scores more, have thus auspicious- 
 ly ministered to the enjoyment and improvement of tlieir fellow 
 creatures. It is a noble sphere of duty when rightly pursued, 
 and there is a kind of fiction — a certain portraiture of life — 
 singularly adapted to tlie quick and clear observation and the 
 refined sympatiiies of women. A new aspirant for this kind of 
 literary distinction and usefulness was recognized by many, in a 
 quiet, sad, but most genuine story, whicli appeared two years 
 ago, called " Kathie Brand." The descriptions, though subdued, 
 were extremelj'- graphic; the sentiment, though quite unexciting, 
 was impressive ; somewliat of Wilson's pathos seemed united to 
 strong sense and introspective tenderness in this writer. 
 
 The HariJers published her "Sylvan Kolt's Daughter," but did 
 not stereotype it, and the edition has long been exhausted. This 
 writer's nom de plume is Holme Lee, but her real name is Parr: 
 she is, like so many of the literary sisterhood, unmarried. "W. A. 
 Townsend & Co. have just issued a novel trom her pen, which is 
 distinguished from its predecessors by greater animation of narra- 
 tive, and more dramatic effect: it is, however, equallv remarkable 
 for the delicacy of the sentiment, its truth, strength and gentle- 
 ness; the power that comes from knowledge of life and the 
 feeling only born in earnest and cultivated natures, are admirably 
 blended; there is a sustained interest in the book as a tale, and 
 an original significance in the characters; so that, on the whole, 
 " Against Wind and Tide" is one of the best fictions which have 
 appeared this season. 
 
 H. T. TUCKERMAN.
 
 HAWKSVIEAV.
 
 HAWKSVIEW 
 
 FAMILY HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. 
 
 BY 
 
 HOLME LEE, 
 
 AtTTtroK OF "Against Wind and Ttdb,'" bto., 
 
 " There's always sunshine somewhere In the world." 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 W. A. TOWNSEND AND COIklPANY. 
 
 1860.
 
 C. A. ALVOKIi. PUINTKIt. NKW YnKK.
 
 -V;/ ^ Liim ART 
 
 /^^ ^ :&^i VtRSITY OF CALIFORIfU: 
 
 t'5\P^^ SANTA BAKBAKA 
 
 gart trt^ jirist
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Honorable Roger Bohun was, according to 
 the world, one of the most imprudent of men. 
 He married, before he took his degree, an ex- 
 tremely beautiful and good girl without sixpence, 
 and almost all his great connections quarreled 
 with him in consequence. He was the seventh 
 and youngest son of the noble family of Bohun 
 of Castle Bohun, in the county of Kent, a family 
 of immense antiquity and the bluest blood. By 
 virtue of his birth, his line talents, and his hand- 
 some person, he might have aspired to any al- 
 liance below royalty ; and instead, to the con- 
 fusion of his aristocratic relatives, and the utter 
 destruction of his own prospects in life, he choice 
 to unite himself with a person who, beyond her 
 bright eyes, pure heart, and loving temper, had 
 no single merit to speak of. Before the sacriticG 
 was accomplished, the vials of paternal wrath 
 1*
 
 10 IIAWKBVIICW. 
 
 and the arrows ul* everybody's sarcasm wiis 
 showered iii>on him without stint — probably with 
 preventive views— but afterward he was treated 
 with silent contemjir. Only his mother, who 
 fancied that Roger loved her the best of all lier 
 children, and his eldest sister. Lady Harriet Len- 
 nox, who had made an iinprudent marriage her- 
 self, and said it was delightful to see anybody 
 do a foolisli thitjg in these wise days, ventured 
 to take his part; but they were individuals of 
 so little account in the family that they might 
 as well never have spoken at all — better, per- 
 haps; for interference, advice, or cintradietiou 
 only acted as rivets to Lord dc Bohun's purposes. 
 His youngest son was excommunicated hence- 
 forth from paternal favor ; his name was erased 
 from the will that gave him Benjamin's portion 
 in the unentailed ]>roj»erty, and f(»rbidden to be 
 uttered aloud in the iiimily iireside gatherings; 
 and having thus executed righteous judgment 
 and vindicated his outraged authority. Lord de 
 Bohun v.as at peace with himself, and slept like 
 the most forgiving and tender-hearted Christian 
 of his generation. 
 
 It«jgfr w;u> v<'ry properly grieved at the effects 
 of his dibobc'dicnce, but he was not repentant ; 
 mortal man could not be repentant for the sin of 
 marrying, ever so rashly, such a beautifid, affec-
 
 HAWKSVIEW^ 11 
 
 tionate, winning young creature as his darling 
 Agnes. She was scarcely sixteen, lance-straight, 
 but graceful and pliant as a reed, with a coun- 
 tenance all radiant with health, happiness, and 
 spring. The bloom of innocence was on her 
 cheek, its lustre in her eyes, and its purity in 
 her heart — a nobler dower, Roger thought, than 
 if she had brought him her weight in gold or a 
 genealogy unimpeachable and direct from the 
 ark. It was a marriage of first love on both 
 sides, and promised, spite of tlie clouds on the 
 family horizon, a full harvest of contentment. 
 Agnes had few friends to be either proud or 
 grieved for her. Her father and mother had 
 both died in her babyhood, leaving her to the 
 guardianship of a bachelor great-uncle, who was 
 only too glad to dispose of her respectably and 
 go back to the monastic seclusion of his college, 
 from wliich, for her sake, he had endured a 
 fourteen years' exile ; and of other relatives she 
 had none. When Roger took his degree, and the 
 university lists were published. Lord de Bohun 
 read his oifending son's name fourth amongst 
 the wranglers : he would much rather he had 
 been wooden spoon. He was a very vindictive 
 old man, and every congratulation that people 
 ventured to insinuate only added a bitterer flavor 
 to the gall of his unappeased wrath. Roger
 
 12 IIAWKSVIKW. 
 
 urote to his motlier to tell her of his success, 
 and the poor lady, forhidden to answer, or in 
 any way to acknowledge her son's letter, cried 
 over it tor half a day, while Lady Harriet Len- 
 nox sent him a pretty epistle of felicitation and 
 encouragement, and a bracelet of her own for his 
 wife. 
 
 Roger made no application, either direct or in- 
 direct, to his father for assistance ; he took orders, 
 and, by an advertisement, obtained the curacy of 
 Boscombe-Magna in Yorkshire, with a stiiiend of 
 one hundred and fifty pounds a year, and the 
 rectory-house, partly furnished, to live in. Bo 
 sides his wife he had one fine little baby -girl to 
 begin his establishment with ; and they three, 
 with nurse Beste for major-domo, and a stout 
 dale's girl for general attendant, went into house- 
 keeping on the very day that Koger was twenty- 
 three and Agnes eighteen. 
 
 Agnes said tlie rectory was surely the sweetest 
 8]>ot out of Eden, and the day was a day of good 
 omen too — Midsummer day. 
 
 There was not a cloud in the sky ; hill and dale 
 Were flooded with an intcflso yellow sunshine, 
 and all the shaclows seemed to have hidden them- 
 Belvcs away amongst the cool dense green foliage 
 of the trees. The air was warm, soft, lu.xurious, 
 caressing; perfumed with the breath of new
 
 ^- IIAWKSVIEW. 13 
 
 mown liay, and vocal with the lowing of kino 
 in rich pastures, tlie lazy chirp of bird or in- 
 sect, and the whistle of the 2>easant at his toil in 
 distant fields. Th.e garden was one profuse tangle 
 of roses, jasmin, sweetbrler, and all hardy bloom- 
 ing scented plants, and the first sight of the new 
 home was as of some gigantic bee-hive or bird's 
 nest, that the flowering creepers bad almost over- 
 grown. Scarcely a stone's throw away was tlie 
 church— a picturesque old church, sucli as Agnes 
 had loved to prefigure to herself, a church with a 
 low belfry, and shrouded with ivy, even to the 
 concealment of its quaint and homely outline. 
 A double row of patriarchal elms divided " God's 
 acre" from the rectory garden, and a colony of 
 rooks amongst their interlaced branches promised 
 music more than enough in windy March weather ; 
 but Agnes vowed she liked a rookery near the 
 house, and that she would not for worlds have it 
 away ! Then when they came into the small old- 
 fashioned rooms, which had been made as fresh 
 and gay to view as the flower-beds outside tlie 
 lattice-paned bay-M'indoM's, she said that they 
 were delicious, and tliat the rectory was the very 
 picture of the place she had always dreamt of in 
 her day-dreams and called Home ! 
 
 Looking abroad from tliose queer sunny vrin- 
 dows stretched a grand expanse of rich, fertile
 
 14 iiAWKi^vrcw. 
 
 ctiiHitry, iMiumlecl Ly a line of lieatli-el;ul liills; 
 and in the hollow run a river so clear, sparkling 
 and translneent in the sunshine, that they could 
 see from afar off that it flowed with a swift cur- 
 rent and over a jicbbly bed. Nature here was in no 
 ])enuriou8 mood; she had sown her richest broad- 
 cast, and dealt out her best and fairest gifts with 
 a lavishly bountiful haiul. 
 
 Agnes said in her jdcaj^ant voice, which it was 
 sweetest music to hear, "Roger, we may be luxu- 
 riously ]>oor in this beautiful country, may we 
 not ?" and Roger answered that he should be lux- 
 uriously ri'h with her anywhere ; tliat he was de- 
 termined to make the best of botii worlds, and to 
 enjoy, as far as he might, the life that had been 
 given them to spend together, with much more 
 epicurean philosophy to the same effect; and Ag- 
 nes listened as if he were god speaking and his 
 lips drop])ed oracles. These two had accc]»ted 
 life's mightiest res])onsibilities and touched its 
 climax early ; but they had brought to its after- 
 battle romance enough to bear the brunt of its 
 rudest disenchantments, and love to lift them tri- 
 umphantly above its trivftil cares. The new ex- 
 istence showed like the beginning of a ]deasant 
 jiastoral, throngh which they were to go hand in 
 hand, without shock of grievous experience or any 
 let or hindrance whatever; all life-long one glow- 
 ing, glorious midsumnuM- Awy.
 
 ir AWK8VIKW. 1 5 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The working hours of tins white day drew 
 toward a close. The tired hay-makers were 
 Avending their way homeward from the fragrant 
 jfields; and with the evening purple came a 
 heather-scented breeze that made a plaintive, sigh- 
 ing music amongst the elms. Against the nur- 
 sery window the ruddy-leaved American creeper 
 struck with a faintly sharp monotone, as if keep- 
 ing tinie to the mother's love-ditty that Agnes 
 was crooning over her baby, as she lay upon her 
 lap. Little Mona ought to have been asleep in 
 her cot an hour ago, but there she was, her 
 blue eyes wide open, and mischievously watchful, 
 breaking out, now and again, into a vivacious 
 crow that Agnes was fain to smother with a 
 shower of kisses on her pouting rebel lips. She 
 received all her caresses with the superb air of 
 a baby princess accustomed to loving homage 
 from the maternal subject ; and treated nurse 
 Beste's expostulatory hushes with truly regal in-
 
 |<; IIAWKSVIEW. 
 
 • -^ 
 
 difference, as if slie and .lier motncr were in it 
 le;i<riie air.iinst that judicious W(»ni:in, and deter- 
 mined to liuvc tlicir jirettv play out. Her r<»sy 
 lingers made snatches at Agnes's clustering curls 
 as niey swept over her lace, at the blue ribbon 
 round her neck, and the sliining gold chain that 
 held her watch ; and every successful clutch was 
 triumphantly announced by a little shrill cry and 
 laugh, than which, I suppose, sweeter melody was 
 never heard by mothers' eai*s. Agnes thought 
 it the perfection of music, and could have listened 
 to it for ever. 
 
 Presently the door opened witli an obtrusively 
 cautious creak, and Koger jn-crcd in, "What! 
 is the wee rogue still awuke V cried he, when he 
 Haw how matters stood, and tlien advancing boldl v, 
 he took his little daugliter from Agnes's lap, and 
 proceeded to toss her high in air, t<» lu-r own 
 intense delight, and nurse J)este's jiatient aggra- 
 vation. Agnes sang, cla])i»ed her hands, held out 
 her arms in "mock terror as slic went up, and 
 hh<Kjk her bright curls over her as she camo 
 down, in almost as great an ecstacy as baby 
 h(T>«lf ; atul when her last shadow of sleepiness 
 wa».<iiwipatetl slic got lier back into her fMisdiii 
 for another ten minutes of jictting and cooin<', 
 •*'•»- •■ ' - ' *'ie l)onnie, wistful eyes closed, nn<l 
 •d sMiile on her face, and a final
 
 IIAWKSVIKW. 1 7 
 
 but abortive diiSi at her mother's tangled hair, 
 Mona fell aslei^p, and was laid down tenderly on 
 her pretty white cot. Agnes M'as half disposed 
 to linger by it, but Roger bade her come away 
 into the garden before it was too dark to see 
 the view ; and not even for her helpless darling- 
 would she forego the quiet twilight saunter that 
 had been amongst tiieir pleasantest of pleasant 
 times ever since they were married. 
 
 They walked silently for some minutes up and 
 down the lawn in front of the house, feeling the 
 balmy hush of the hour as a soother of active 
 thought. Roger was the first to speak, and 
 tlien it was only to remark on the delicious still- 
 ness and beauty of the hour. " If w^e go to 
 the end of the planted walk that runs along 
 the top of the paddock, we shall have even 
 a finer and more expansive prospect than we 
 have here," he added; and happy, satisfied, 
 easily pleased as children, they loitered hand in 
 hand under the trees, while the night dropped 
 softly through the thick boughs, and the breeze 
 sobbed and soughed distantly upon the hills. It 
 was too dusk to see far away ; but the slopes of 
 Boscombe Park, and the white chimneys of J;he 
 great house overtopping the surrounding plan- 
 tations, were visible ; also the scattered cottages, 
 standing each in its enclosure of garden or
 
 1 b llAWKSVIEW. 
 
 orchard, and some uf the nearer t'annltoads were 
 to be seen in a dim seelusiun. At the extremity 
 of tlie walk there wjis a noblo horse-chestnut, 
 ronnd the bole of which a rustic seat of unl)arked 
 lir branches had been constructed ; and here 
 they sat down, Agnes wrapped in lloger's plaid 
 and encircled by liis arm. These two were 
 lovers to their lives' end, it wjis said by one 
 who knew them well ; the secure and tranquil 
 use of wedded love never wore otf the tender 
 romance of their youth. 
 
 "Listen, Iloijer, that twittering of the birds 
 is delicious," said Agnes, in a whisper; "and is 
 that a running water we hear through the trees <" 
 
 " Yes, it is Boscombe beck. Look over west- 
 ward. Do yon see a black clump of Scotch firs 
 cutting obli<juclv against the sky V and liogcr 
 jiointed to.,a distinct ridge of hills beyond which 
 the clouds were* still suffused with tlie roseate 
 glow of sunset 
 
 "Just on the brow^ Yes, I sec it. "VVhut ;ui 
 eyrie look it has, standing alone like a clump of 
 spectral trcH*s in a German ballad !" • 
 
 "That is Ilawksview, the utm(»st l)ound oi 
 our parish. Hot ween it and us tlie. land dips 
 down, and in the hollow lie the village of Moat, 
 and tlie Old Moat House; melancholy places 
 ),otlif'
 
 IIAAVKSVLEW. VJ 
 
 "Is tlierc any house on Ilawksview? I saw a 
 light ghxncing, as if from one room to anotlier, a 
 ijQomcnt since, Roger." 
 
 " Yes, there is a picturesque little cottage, 
 sheltered by some fine elms ; but, so far as I 
 know, it is uninhabited. If you are credulous 
 of such fables, the country gossips will try to 
 persuade you before long that it is haunted." 
 
 " Haunted !" repeated Agnes, shivering closer 
 to her husband's side, and then laughing at her 
 own involuntary fear, " Haunted ! Uncle Chris- 
 topher said we were coming to live a centniy out 
 of the world; that will be something to tell him 
 when we write. But look, Roger, there is the 
 light again. Don't you see it ? 
 
 "That flashing is nothing more than the glit- 
 ter of sunset on the upper windows of the cottage. 
 If you watch for a few minutes you will find it 
 disappear altogether. It is gone now." 
 
 Agnes was perhaps a little disappointed at this 
 very natural and prosaic interj^retation of the 
 mysterious light, for she loved a tale of wonder 
 as dearly %s if she had been bred up amongst 
 country superstitions and legends all her life. 
 During some time longer she kept her gaze fixed 
 on the point where it had vanished, in the hope 
 that it would gleam out again ; bat the M'arm 
 flush faded gradually from the hills, and the sen-
 
 20 UAWKtiVII.W. 
 
 tinel fire grew indistinct against the billows of 
 uark purp^^ clouds beyond. 
 
 " There must be a story belonging to the 
 l>lace; do you know what it is, Roger?'' she 
 aaked. 
 
 " A story there is, of course ; but neither a very 
 old nor a very remark able one to raise a ghost 
 from," replied Roger, much amused at her credu- 
 lous interest ; " I am not sure that I can tell it 
 correctly cither; but such as it is, if you like to 
 hear it—" 
 
 " O, ye> 1 I should like to hear it above all 
 thiu'^s ;" and with licr face turned toward her 
 husband's shoulder, and her eyes watching the 
 furtive smile on his lips, she j)rej>ared herself to 
 listen. lie glanced aside and laughed — not a 
 verv ai)j)r<)])riate prelude to a ghost story, and 
 she bade him bcgin,-with a pretty tremulous 
 earnestness, which testified that some faith min- 
 gled with her curiosity. 
 
 "I must tell you first that Ilawksview is n<»t 
 the property of any of the great landowners of 
 Astondalc, and never has been," he be^n. "The 
 I'roughs have been lords of the manors of Bos- 
 combe and Moat ever since this district was wild, 
 unenclosed forest ; and Ilawksview, which lies 
 on the western outskirta of their possessions, has 
 been for generations a coveted hut unattainalde
 
 nAWKSVIEW. 21 
 
 jewel. It was held, in the old troublous times, 
 by a branch of the great Yescey family, who 
 built a tower for defence upon it, which gave 
 place long since to the quaint little dwelling- 
 house, the flashing of whose windows in the sun- 
 set you took for a moving light just now. Some 
 superstitious bond keeps it still in the same race, 
 who have ever resisted the most tempting bribes 
 to let it pass into other hands. Tlie present 
 story dates scarcely twelve years back — " 
 
 " Scarcely twelve years back !" interrupted 
 Agnes, raising her head impatiently ; " then I am 
 sure it is not a real ghost story ; but go on." 
 
 " A ghost story, like wine, to be good must be 
 old, must it? Well, mine has an air of antiquity 
 about it too, if 3'ou will listen." 
 
 AsTnes laid her cheek softly on his shoulder, 
 and promised not to speak again until the tale 
 was done, and Roger continued : " The house had 
 stood empty longer than any body could remem- 
 ber, when, one late autumn day, smoke was seen 
 to issue from the chimneys ; and a casual passer- 
 by on the road that crosses in front of the house, 
 reported that he had seen a beautiful young girl 
 and a dark-looking gentleman sitting together 
 upon the terrace that overlooks the valley, much 
 as we are doing now, Agnes. Who they were, 
 or whence they came, was a mystery. They re-
 
 nAAVKSVIF.W. 
 
 ccived no letters, never appeared at ehnrch, or, 
 indeed," anywhere beyond the limits of Hawks- 
 view, and seemed to live entirely for themselves 
 and each other. They were there all throngh ihe 
 winter ; but when spring came the wBy was ob- 
 served to take her walks in the garden alone, and 
 to be often at the gate looking down the road as 
 if on the watch for somebody. Those who saw^ 
 her said that her faee was become wan and hag- 
 gard, and that she had the air of a person almost 
 beside herself for sorrow. Then the wail of a 
 liitle child was heard in the house ; and soon after 
 its tenants departed as secretly as they had come, 
 and it waa all shut up again. Ever since, the 
 gossips say, the place is haunted." 
 
 Agnes drew a long breath. " Ah ! Roger, it is 
 just an old love-story," said she, pitifully. 
 
 " An old lovc-^tory, and nothing else ; it does 
 not even pretend to tell what gho>ts or shadows 
 have given Ilawksview its ill name." 
 
 In her gentle imagination, Agnes thought out 
 tlie details of the sad, simple history, as she leant 
 on the strong, safe ])rotcetif>n of her husband's 
 arm. " I think I can see her watching at the gate, 
 linger — and she may be living now. I wish it 
 liad happened a hundred years ago, and then wo 
 slunild be Bure slic had done grieving," was the 
 issue of lier reflections.
 
 nAWKSviEW. 23 
 
 "Wliat a tender little heart it is! Come, the 
 dew is falling, let us go in." And, drawing the 
 plaid hood-fashion over his young wife's liead, 
 Itoger and she loitered slowly back toward the 
 garden. Ha:wksview was now only a dim lino 
 against the sky, and the monotonous ripple of the 
 "beck under the hedgerow was all that the mid- 
 snmnier day had left of its many-voiced harmonies 
 to the dusk-eyed night. Under the bowery porcli 
 they paused to breathe for a few moments the 
 aromatic fragrance of the jasmin, whoso tangled 
 mass of leaf and bloom quite hid the trellice- 
 work, and crept up upon the roof. 
 
 " If M''e had sought the world through, Roger, 
 we could not have found a pleasanter place than 
 this !" said Agnes, with an air of profound con- 
 tent. She had made the same remarkable obsei-- 
 vation at least half-a-score times before that day ; 
 but Roger, still struck by its charming oiigin- 
 ality, responded by a gentle caress of the little 
 hand clinging to his arm. " Look at my Ladyo 
 Moon rising over the crest of the hill. Ah ! Ro- 
 ger, is Castle-Bohun better than this ?" 
 
 " No, sweetheart, nor half so good," replied he, 
 with a lingering intonation on that quaint, pretty 
 name by which he loved to call her. " You are 
 going to be jealous of the old home. Yes, I see."
 
 2i nAWKavTKw. 
 
 " Jealoug, Roger! D<>!i"t thii)k that, for indeed 
 I nm not jealous. How could I be?"' 
 
 lloger did not pretend to answer this diflicult 
 question : he merely drew her into the hall, took 
 off the heavy plaid, kissed her dear |pveable face, 
 and bade her make haste down from the nursery, 
 ■whither she was goiog : for he felt strange in the 
 new home without her. She rejoined him in a 
 few minutes, reporting that Mona slept like a 
 darling cherub, and that she was sure the air of 
 Boscombe was going to agree with her. Nurse 
 Beste, that high professional authority, had just 
 stated such to be her iirm, mature, and unbiassed 
 judgment. It was not for lloger to call such 
 judgment j)remature, or to cast a doubt on what 
 was equally })leasiiig and jirobable. lie duly said, 
 "You always put me in mind of my dear mother, 
 Agnes." 
 
 ''How so, dear Roger, tell me?*' 
 
 " Because you always look on the bright side. 
 She will love you dearly wlu.'n you come to know 
 each other.'' 
 
 Agnes siglu'd, and thought, " "NVjicn will f /in t 
 bef' but she said no more. Tiiis was a rather 
 sore snbjf'ct with her.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 25 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Agnes had the domestic graces in as fine develop- 
 ment as the domestic virtues. She possessed a 
 keen sense of the beauty and fitness of things, 
 which she carried into the simplest arrangements 
 of everyday life ; a trace of elegance and perfect 
 orderliness was left on all she touched. Though 
 Koger Boliun had passed his youth in the midst 
 of a superlative luxury, in this old-bird's-nest of a 
 rectory he missed nothing. The machinery work- 
 ed noiselessly and out of sight; the same fairy 
 fingers that sacredly respected the disarrange- 
 ments of his study, kept the tiny drawing-room as 
 bright and pleasant as a holiday ; but to Roger 
 it always seemed as if the brightness and pleasant- 
 ness which had so magical an effect, emanated 
 from a certain pair of blue-grey eyes that were 
 full of heart-sunshine whenever he looked into 
 them. There was a sense and a presence as of 
 repose about Agnes, which, to a man intense, 
 passionate, and enthusiastic as he was, were an 
 2
 
 26 UA^VKS^^E^v. 
 
 abiding cliarm. She never wearied, never dis- 
 appointed him. There was in her that subtle in- 
 Btinct, that fine pure intelligence wliich divines a 
 mood and harmonises with it quite unconsciously. 
 Was he grave, she would sit silent by, waiting till 
 it pleased him to speak ; was he gay, she would 
 sing liis favorite songs — simple Scotch and f]ngHsh 
 ballads of no great skill, but of a most charming 
 melody ; or she would listen to his wise talk about 
 old books and authors that he loved, as if they 
 were her bosom friends too, and so gather knowl- 
 edge to lit\ her nearer to his level. She did not 
 coin for herself rivals out of his books or silent 
 thoughts, as some women will, but held herself 
 the crowning joy and glory of his life as hS was 
 of hers. Half her love for him was reverence, 
 but all his love for her was love, and he used to 
 say with tender pride, that she was a youthful 
 copy of Solomon's famous house-m(»ther, whose 
 price was above rubies; yet, Eli Burton, Roger's 
 friend, declaned when he came to know her well, 
 that she was merely a "sweet imperfection." 
 
 Eli Burton was abroad at the date of Rocrer 
 Bohun's marriage, and for some time after, but ho 
 was the fii-st guest entertained at the rectory after 
 liis return homo. Roger wrote' him a letter of 
 invitation, to which Agnes api)t'nded a imstscript 
 that filled him witii dismay ; tor, being given to
 
 HAWK8VIEW. 27 
 
 judging of character by handwriting, he discern- 
 ed in her's signs of an untamed Katharine, who, 
 he doubted not, was inflicting a daily matrimonial 
 martyrdom on his poor friend. But, arriving at 
 the rectory in Roger's temporary absence, he was 
 obliged to introduce himself to this redoubtable 
 Kate, who came in from the garden to receive 
 him, with flushed cheeks and loosened hair, hav- 
 ing most probably been engaged in a game of 
 romps with little Mona. She greeted him with 
 the sweetest courtesy imaginable — a rather shy 
 and blushing courtesy, perhaps which made him 
 wonder why the tails of her g's curled so per- 
 tinaciously, and why her h's looked so sharp and 
 spiteful. 
 
 He, however, soon forgot those ominous warn- 
 ings, for in less than five minutes he discovered 
 that she was neither cross nor pragmatical, and 
 she liked to talk of nothing so much as of Roger, 
 Roger's friends, Roger's school-days, his college 
 days, his learning, his fine character, his excellen- 
 cies, and even his prejudices — themes on which 
 Eli was just as fluent ; for if there was a being in 
 the world whom he thought worthy of all love, 
 honor and admiration, it was Roger Bohun. 
 Each held a very warm corner in the other's heart, 
 and neither was the man to consider lightly of 
 the precious store of trust, congeniality, and aflec-
 
 2S IIAWKSVIEW. 
 
 tioii expressed in an old friendship of school days. 
 It is not the acqnaintance formed when life has be- 
 come action and struggle, but the love which long 
 liabit has worn into second nature, the thousand 
 and one recollections of work done, difficulties 
 pulled through, and holiday times enjoyed to- 
 gether that knit that brotherhood of the spirit 
 closer and dearer often than the brotherhood of 
 the flesh. 
 
 "When Roger came in he found Eli nursing 
 his left knee in the rectory drawing-room, exactly 
 as he had seen him do a score of times or more 
 during an argument that interested him in his 
 rooms at Trinit}'. Their meeting was as enthu- 
 t-iastic and gleeful as that of two school-boys, and 
 Agnes, whose tact was delicate exceedingly, con- 
 trived to be wanted by Mona until dinner-time; 
 and so left them to have their iirst long talk — 
 which, be sure lacked not its panegyric on so fair 
 and kind a wife — to themselves. 
 
 They sat late after dinner, too ; but she had no 
 idea of feeling herself neglected. She ordered 
 tea later, and stayed embroidering Mona's coat 
 till dusk ; then she went up stairs to peep at her 
 in hercot,and came back, thinking gratefully how 
 quiet, happy, and easy all her young life had been. 
 When at hist they did coiue, hhe said,"! am 
 glad;" but M-itiiout any injured feeling at their
 
 nAWKSviEw. 29 
 
 having stayed away so long. She reflected that, 
 of course, they must have many things to tell each 
 other that were not for her to hear ; Koger had loved 
 Eli as a faithful companion years before he knew 
 her, and* it was not for a wife to come between 
 her husband and his friend, or to be jealous of 
 that niche in his heart which not even she — ten- 
 der, good, earnest, and intelligent as she may be 
 — can adequately fill. 
 
 Eli Burton was a fine scholar, and a very hon- 
 est gentleman ; but he was extremely hard-favor- 
 ed — an ugly man, indeed. He had a big, loose- 
 limbed, ungainly figure, topped by a massive 
 head and a shock of harsh, grizzled hair, which 
 appeared as if it had not been pruned for years. 
 His forehead was already lined with wrinkles, 
 and his eyes reflected the very dimmest conscious- 
 ness of there being anything to see within then- 
 range; for they were generally fixed on the 
 ground, or on his knee, encircling which were 
 clasped his large-jointed uncomely hands. Na- 
 ture, however, had given him one grace to vindi- 
 cate himself withal, and this was a very pleasant 
 voice; almost as pleasant, Agnes allowed, as Rog- 
 er's. He had been a great traveler during the 
 last three years. He had seen Jerusalem and the 
 Dead Sea, Grand Cairo and the Pyramids, the 
 site of old Troy, Athens and the bay of Salamis,
 
 30 IIAWKSVIEW. 
 
 Rome and the Pope, Constantinople and the Sul- 
 tan, Paris and the Grisettes. He had seen all the 
 grand tourists' line of march, and not a few other 
 things besides , but his stories were not of the 
 Baron Munchausen order, or marked bj'hn}' dra- 
 matic mischances; and he wound uj) a brilliant 
 description of Alpine scenery, by saying drily to 
 Agnes : — " Yet, indeed, madam, I was often home- 
 sick, and often disappointed ; for travelers do not 
 carry favorable weather in their knapsacks at all 
 times. I cannot remember having ever felt better 
 pleased with any fine scenery than I am with this 
 little valley of yours, of which we have never 
 heard in a guide book." 
 
 Agnes left her husband and his friend in the 
 height of the lively talk which hatl made the 
 hours pass with incredible swiftness, and betook 
 herself to her bed. AVhen she was gone, the 
 two gentlemen adjourned to Roger's study, where 
 Eli could smoke his pi})e in peace and comfort, 
 and there they stayed gossiping until far on 
 into the small hourp. Wakinsr out of her first 
 sleep, Agnes heard the mufHed sound of their 
 voices and laughter, which afterward wove thein- 
 Bclves into a good dream, where Eli was enacting 
 the ])art of fairy godmother to Mona, and help- 
 ing Roger to comj)ile a book of ponderous ser- 
 mons that was to make somebody's fortune. It
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 31 
 
 might have been thought that this long chat 
 would almost have exhausted their budget of 
 cews ; hut the next morning, immediately after 
 breakfast, they were together again, pacing up 
 and down under the shady elms, and talking as 
 eagerly as if they had but just met. Some 
 chance word, perhaps, called up an interminable 
 series of boyish recollections, young ambitions, 
 and young hopes belonging to those shining 
 golden days when the world's good things seemed 
 only waiting for them to conquer — ambitions and 
 hopes which neither had attained to, nor ever 
 would; but which could not be called disap- 
 pointments, nevertheless.
 
 32 IIAWKSVIKAV. 
 
 CnAPTER IV. 
 
 The weather being somewhat over clouded and 
 favorahle to tlie sport, they had a days' fishing 
 in the trout-beck; and Agnes joined them in the 
 afternoon for the sake of coming home with 
 Roger. Anotlier morning was spent fossil-hunt- 
 ing in Landsdown cpiarrics, and another in a long 
 excursion to view the Roman remains on Bloro 
 Heath. The name and story of llawksview 
 liad taken fast hold of Agnes's curiosity ; and 
 having made Eli Burton a sharer in her interest, 
 one evening they all went up there together. 
 Agnes had a quick and delicate a])i)reeiation (»f 
 the simj)le and beautiful in natural scenery — an 
 appreciation eager and artless enough in its ex- 
 pressioai to make Eli smile, though it did not oc- 
 cur to him to check it, as some traveled people 
 check the 6imi)le raptures of contented stay-at- 
 homes. He let lier go on thinking, as indeed he 
 thought himself, that Astondale was quite as beau- 
 tiful, and quite as well worth seeing, as many
 
 HAWKSVIEAV. 33 
 
 more famous places to wliicli folks travel at vast 
 expenditure of time and money. 
 
 With many curves and bends the road wound 
 up the hill, at first bordered by stately elm, oak, 
 and ash trees, %vhich gave way presently to plan- 
 tations of larch, spruce-fir, and hardy Scotch pine. 
 Still higher, on one side, rose a precipitous stony 
 bank, over the ragged edges of which waved 
 sprays of wild rose-briar and white-blossomed 
 bramble. A narrow thread of water ran in a 
 gtony course by the road-side ; but in the wet sea- 
 son it sometimes flooded the lane so deeply that 
 Hawksview was cut off" for weeks together from 
 the rest of the world. Agnes thought the ascent 
 was like going up to one of those enchanted cas^ 
 ties in the marvelous German fairy books, which 
 she had not yet quite given up being charmed 
 with ; and if something eerie and supernatui-al 
 had chanced to peer out of a cleft, or to shout to 
 them from the top of one of those great, creaking, 
 giant-armed fir-trees, it would not have struck her 
 as anything remarkable. 
 
 Through openings in the foliage there were oc- 
 casional glimpses of the house w^iich looked from 
 below like a huge cairn with twinkling eyes of 
 windows in the sunshine; but seen in front, it ex- 
 hibited a certain grotesque regularity. It was 
 little and low, as if it had cowered down under 
 
 9*
 
 34 HA'\\'KSVIF\V. 
 
 the trees to let the <;ri'at winds paes over-head ; 
 and was huiU of r()U<^li ihuk stone, (piarried in tlic 
 hill side: while all the wood-work was of native 
 larch, cut in the plantation on the brow. Two 
 gables of steep pitch, Avith eaves projecting like 
 eyelids over the lattices, fronted toward the south 
 — .1 rude porch was in the midst, and on either 
 side were the low, wide windows of the two parlors. 
 The garden gate hung by a single hinge to 
 the deca^'ing side-post. The children from Moat, 
 when they went up there a-hlackberrying, had 
 swung upon it until it had given way under their 
 weight, so that there was no impediment to the 
 incursions of the stray cattle and vilkige donkeys 
 that delighted to make this wilderness of greenery 
 their pound. Eli insisted upon driving out two 
 of the last-named trespassers ; and while ho was 
 thus occupied, Iloger and Agnes went up the 
 mossy pathway to the house. Parting the matted 
 creepers which covered the lower half of the 
 windows, they looked in, as well as the mists of 
 many vears would allow, upon the emptiness c»f 
 the deserted house. Against the mildewed parhir 
 walls a few ponderous chains still remained ; in 
 the rusty grate were some i)iece6 of stick and 
 twigs that had been verdant branches once upon 
 a time ; a tattered carpet, colorless as dust, cover- 
 ed the middle of the floor. The door of one of
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 35 
 
 tlie rooms stood wide open, and beyond it tlioy 
 could see the angle of a staircase, with a ray of 
 moated sunshine glancing from step to step. Up- 
 on the keystone of the porch there was the date 
 1694, and under it an awkwardly carved present- 
 ment of a serpent curved into a ring. This de- 
 vice had also been wrought upon the coping of 
 the windows, upon each peak of the gable and 
 every prominent part of the building. 
 
 " It is ver}'- dreary, this old house Roger ; I 
 should not like to live here ;" said Agnes, shiver- 
 ing. She was glad to turn from its decaying 
 grimness to the terrace, where Eli, having ejected 
 the donkeys, was taking his fill of the prosj)ect. 
 Strange to say it did not remind him of anything 
 grander or lovelier than he liad seen abroad. It 
 was simply an English landscape, green and pur- 
 ple, rich and sunny, with a pale sky over it yel- 
 lowing toward sunset. On this terrace grew the 
 finest cedars and yews in Astondale; and not 
 they only, the nettle, bindweed, and rank grass 
 grew there, too, in wild luxuriance, entangling the 
 shrubs and choking the few flowers that still strug- 
 gled to bud and blossom in this untended wilder- 
 ness. The ivy had made a bower of the lover's seat, 
 by festooning its sprays from the branches of a mag- 
 nificent brown beach behind it. On the smooth 
 bole of this tree two names were cut, " Marma-
 
 36 IIAMKSVILW. 
 
 dnkc and Clara," encircled, by the serpent em- 
 blem of eternity — strange use lor such device! 
 The wounded bark in healing had made both the 
 names and their bordure less distinct; but they 
 M'ould probably outlast the lives, as they had al- 
 ready outlasted the love of those there commem- 
 orated. Agnes refused to rest herself in this ill- 
 omened place ; but straying further along the 
 terrace, she came to a tree that had been uproot- 
 ed in a storm of some bye-past ■winter, and here 
 sat duwn with Roger beside her, and Eli hov- 
 ering restlessly about to and fro, rather afraid 
 that it might be damp. From this point the eye 
 took in the full range of the valley, sweeping east- 
 ^•ard over the open country, round by the barren 
 northern ridges to the hazy grey of the western 
 hills, beyond which were numerous little valleys 
 as beautiful as they were secluded. 
 
 " When I leave you I will start on a pedestrian 
 tour up there," said Eli, pointing in a north-west- 
 erly direction with his staff, wliicli he had brought 
 to help him up the liill ; it looks like wild un- 
 Bophisticatcd nature, and autumn is the finest time 
 for it. Koger, old fellow, do you remember our 
 tramp into Argyleshire ?" 
 
 Of course, Roger remembered it with all its 
 difficulties of bed and board, and would be glad 
 tu do it again.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 37 
 
 . Agnes did not seem to find the wish at all ex- 
 travagant. " If it had not been that we are but 
 just come to Boscombe, you might have taken a 
 month's holiday to go with Mr. Burton now," said 
 she, quite naturally. Now that she would have 
 liked his leaving her (that had never happened 
 yet), but that she would not have him feel his 
 freedom or pleasure curtailed by her. Eli said 
 liis friend began to wear the look of a man who 
 was pledged to public conveyances henceforward 
 — at which they all laughed ; though Roger de- 
 clared himself good for a walking tour for many 
 a year to come yet. 
 
 In his peregrinations backward and forward, 
 Eli twice or thrice struck his foot accidentally 
 against a projecting bulk of stone, which was half 
 buried in the purple-flowered ground ivy that 
 overran at its own wild will footpath, bank, and 
 border alike. 
 
 Stooping down to pluck a bit of the plant, 
 he tore away the whole mass, and laid bare 
 the surface of what in form was not unlike 
 the headstone of a grave. All the creeping 
 things wdiose shelter had been thus rudely de- 
 stroyed made haste to hide themselves out of 
 sight in its crevices ; some getting into the ring 
 of the symbolical serpent which was here more 
 regularly sculptured, others-trying to bury them-
 
 38 HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 Belves in the old Gennan characters in which the 
 following legend had been cut : — 
 
 " Tcsccy of Hawksview caused mc mak ; 
 
 Come weel, come woe, none other me tak ; 
 
 Honor bind I. Faitli keep I. 
 
 Hawksview by Moate. 
 
 None base-bom, none brag:j!:art, none knave, 
 
 Sal be my Lorde of this bludc ; 
 
 None but goode Knyghtes and trew." 
 
 Before Eli had deciphered the last two lines, 
 which were almost illegible, Roger and Agnes 
 came to see what he was pottering over with his 
 nose 80 near the ground. He read the inscription 
 aloud, and Agnes, charmed with the discovery, 
 though it did not elucidate the story of the haunt- 
 ed Imnsein any measure, would have it co})ied in- 
 to ItOger's note book, that she might interpret it 
 at her leisure. This incident set them oft' talking 
 about the curious legends and prophecies that 
 attach to certain of the ancient families in this 
 kingdouj. 
 
 linger had a story of a Lady Monica or Mona 
 dq Bobun, who had followed her husband in a 
 groom's dress to the wars against the Saracens, 
 and had been killed mImIc interposing her own 
 body to save him from slaughter. This faithful 
 lady was still said t<j keep a Bj>ecial watch over 
 the soldiers <jf that house ; and, certainly, many
 
 • HAWKSVEEW. 39 
 
 of tliem as was on record had made marvelous 
 escapes from the swords of their enemies, by some 
 invisible shield being interposed between them. 
 Then Eli Burton, who was tlioroughly imbued 
 W'ith the romance of mediaeval history, involved 
 liimself in a monkish legend, full of odd Latin 
 scraps which Agnes could not understand ; and 
 so she had time to observe that the clouds, which 
 had hitherto been light and dispersed, were now 
 driving up into thick, lurid banks, and gathering 
 stormily about the hills. She made Roger ob- 
 serve also this threatening aspect of the weather, 
 and he immediately proposed a start homeward ; 
 but Eli lost so much time, first in finisliing his 
 story, and then in a bootless endeavor to secure 
 the gate against the future inroads of vagrant don- 
 keys, that while descending the hill they were 
 overtaken by a violent rain and thunder-storm. 
 When they had gone about half-way they encoun- 
 tered a man on horseback, picking his road care- 
 fully amongst the large loose stones that encum- 
 bered the lane, and which w^ould have made in- 
 cautious-riding dangerous. He was protected 
 from the wet by a waterproof riding coat, and 
 wore a broad felt hat flapped down over his brow. 
 He was a large-made, fine-looking person, with 
 something of a foreign air ; a dark beard clothed 
 his cheeks and chin, and his keen eyes glanced
 
 40 UAWKSVIEW. 
 
 restlessly hither and thither as he rode forward. 
 Agnes could not resist turning around when they 
 had passed hiui, to see which way he took — 
 M-hether up to llawksview, or over tlie hill to 
 Langwith ; but a clump of trees intervening, her 
 curiosity was not gratitied. At the beginning of 
 Bosconibe lane there was a cattle-shed, the door 
 of which stood open ; the place being empty, and 
 as the rain, mingled with hail, continued to 
 })elt furiously, Eli Burton proposed that tliey 
 should take refuge there until the storm had abat- 
 ed. Agnes stayed in the doorway watching the 
 pale refts in the clouds for some sign of the weath- 
 er clearing; while Roger and Eli talked scientifi- 
 cally of theories of storms, bringing in illustra- 
 tions of their own experience amongst the Scot- 
 tish hills, the high Alps, and the fiords of Nor- 
 way. Eli even went several days' journey into 
 the desert, and was in the midst of an eloquent 
 description of thesimoom, when Agnes exclaimed, 
 '' That man is coming back, Roger ! he must have 
 been to llawksview." 
 
 The stranger rode by the shed at a foot-pace, 
 without ajtparently observing that any one was 
 blu'ltering there, lie lifted off his hat to wi]>e his 
 brow as he jia^sed ; and Agnes thought she had 
 never seen a face at once so handsome and so un- 
 pleasing. She asked who could he be ? and Rog-
 
 HAWKSYIEW. 41 
 
 er, with an arcli laugh, suggested " the Manna- 
 duke of the beech-tree inscription — the master of 
 Hawksview in the flesh." 
 
 " If so, he must have fallen on evil days," re- 
 marked Eli. " He rides a sony horse, and trav- 
 els without much baggage. You saw the shabby 
 little valise strapped behind him." 
 
 " Yes," said Agnes, who inclined to believe 
 Roger's suggestion ; " but he has not fallen on 
 worse days than he deserves." 
 
 "Perhaps we may be wronging the poor man ; 
 he is just as likely to be an author or an artist out 
 on a sketching tour," said Eli. " Hawksview has 
 attractions for the like." 
 
 " But they generally go a-foot," persisted Roger. 
 " I am disposed to think he is the ' fause loon' of our 
 Boscombe gossips' stories. If Osythe Dobbie saw 
 him ride by her door she is sure to remember him." 
 
 " There is a fine gleam now, let us go home 
 quickly," said Agnes ; and to settle the question, 
 let us ask the old woman as we pass." 
 
 Osythe Dobbie's cottage was round a curve in 
 the lane, and as they came within view of it, they 
 saw that the stranger had pulled up and was 
 talking to the dame at the door. He rode for- 
 ward, however, before they reached it ; and Osythe 
 stood gazing after him in a state of profound be- 
 wilderment.
 
 42 iiAWKj^vrr.w. 
 
 "Lord save us! "NVlia'd lia' thowt to see him 
 i' t' country again?" said slic, pointing to the 
 retreating figure. " Parson, yon's t' black Lord 
 o' Hawksvicw that I ha' telTt you on." Agnes 
 heard the announcement without surprise. The 
 grand, renuirkuble figure o\' the stranger, and his 
 sardonic countenance, agreed with his history as 
 the gossips tokl it. 
 
 " Indeed, Os^'the ! and wliat brings liim here 
 again ?" asked Roger, betraying as much interest 
 as Agnes. 
 
 " Deil knaws! nae good, Til be boun'. I 
 asked liim after liis bonnie lady an' the lile bairn 
 I tended, an' he just showed his white teeth an' 
 girned at me; an' he wadna' say it" they was 
 living or dead." 
 
 "Was tliat poor baby a bo}- or a girl?" in- 
 quired Agnes, with earnestness. 
 
 " It was a lad bairn — as fine a lad bairn as 
 ever cam' into a warld where he wasn't wanted. 
 His mother gave him Marmaduke to his name, 
 and old Parson Lowndes, that's been dead an' 
 gane this ten year, christened him. I was there 
 mysel'." 
 
 "Marmaduke! Was that his father's name?" 
 
 " Yes. Captain Marmaduke Vesce}' — yon 
 man that's. just rode by. An' she was Clara; 
 as pretty a lady as ever my eyes beheld, she was.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 43 
 
 Her flesh was as white as milk, wi' just a tint a 
 red in her cheeks, lips like daisies, an' hair like 
 line gold. Oh ! she was right bonnie, she was ! 
 I could tell you a deal ahont her, pnir lassie ; but 
 the parson's on the move." 
 
 "Was she his wife?" said Agnes, in an eager, 
 low voice. 
 
 " I canna' just say — she thowt so. But I fancy 
 maybe she was not," replied the old woman, 
 gravely shaking her head. 
 
 " Come, Agnes, we must proceed, or we shall 
 have the storm overtaking us again." Roger 
 here interposed, and bidding Osythe good even- 
 ing, he drew his wife's arm through his own, and 
 walked rapidly forward until they came up with 
 Eli Burton, who was about fifty yards in ad- 
 vance. The rain held off until they neared the 
 village, and then recommenced in heavy single 
 drops, which soon increased to a pattering 
 shower. They had to pass the little inn; and 
 just as they did so, the stranger, who had been 
 holding a parley with the landlord at the door, 
 dismounted, and went in, while his jaded horse 
 was led round to the stable, from which it ap- 
 peared that Boscombe was that night to be 
 honored by the presence of the Black Lord of 
 Hawksview. •
 
 44 IIAWKSVIEW 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 The thunderstorm presently passed over alto- 
 gether, and was sijcceeded by a gentle, contin- 
 uous rain. It was still a very sultry evening, 
 however ; and al'ter Jenny had taken out the tea, 
 Agnes, instead of bringing forth her work-basket 
 and embroidery, stayed by the open drawing- 
 room window, breathing the rich jasmin scent 
 which the damp air bronglit out more delicons- 
 ly, while Iloger and Eli talked of passing public 
 events, in their respective easy-chairs ; for al- 
 ready Eli had an especial chair and corner that 
 went b}' his name. By and bye another odor, 
 Jiiore ])owerful and more familiar than the 
 jasmin pervaded the atmos])hcre — the odor of a 
 fine cigar; and looking in the direction whence 
 the wind wafted it, Agnes saw the stranger cross- 
 ing the churchyard. He stood for severid min- 
 utes gazing ai>])arcntly away over the country 
 toward Ilawksvicw, until he had linished his 
 cigar, then flinging tlic smouldering end amongst
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 45 
 
 the shrubs, he came through the rectorj-gate 
 into the ehn-tree walk, as if making for the 
 house. Agnes immediately communicated the 
 fact to her husband ; and before the words were 
 Mell out of her lips, the door-bell rang noisily, 
 and an imperative voice was heard to ask, "Is 
 Mr. Bohun at home ?" Jenny made no demur, 
 but admitted the visitor at once. 
 
 "Mr. Bohun, 1 presume?" said he, bowing 
 courteously to Roger, who had risen to receive 
 liim as he entered, and then glancing with 
 stealthy swiftness at Agnes and Eli. Roger did 
 not attempt any introduction, but offered him ^a 
 chair, of which, however, he would not avail 
 himself, and both remained standing while the 
 object of the visit was explained. " I must apol- 
 ogise for my unseasonable intrusion," said Cap- 
 tain Vescey, " but my business is urgent. Can 
 you furnish me with a copy of my son's bap- 
 tismal register to-night ?" 
 
 At Boscombe the registers were kept in an 
 iron chest in the vestry ; and the clerk, who lived 
 at the top of the village, had the custody of the 
 church-door key. Roger mentioned this, and 
 was about to send Jenny for it, when the stranger 
 volunteered to go himself; so the curate, with a 
 sigh of reluctance — for no man likes' his quiet 
 evening of leisure to be broken in upon — went to
 
 46 IIAWKSVIEW. 
 
 liit> study tor the key of the rc^^ister cliest, and 
 aocoimpauied him. As soon as they were in the 
 o}»en air, Captain Vescey continued his explana- 
 liuns: " Tlie baptism in question took place 
 ei'.rly in August, in tlie year 'thirty," said he. 
 "The cliild was baptised by tlie late rector, Mr. 
 Lowndes, and received the name of Marnia- 
 duke." 
 
 "There will be no difficulty in finding the reg- 
 ister since you poawiss the date," replied Roger. 
 
 " Mr. Lowndes is dead, and so my most relia- 
 ble clue is lost;" added the Captain, who seemed 
 a man of few reserves. " lie was the only per- 
 son in whom Clara wjis likely to confide. She 
 Mas a weak fuol I" Roger fancied he must be 
 uttering his thoughts aloud, and essayed an inter- 
 ruption of the unwitting confidence; V)ut his 
 hingular companion continued deliberately, and 
 ia a slightly indignant tune, ''A very weak foul, 
 ur there wuuld never have occurred this hitch. 
 You see, Mr. Bohun, when I was young and hul- 
 licaded, I made a hasty Scotch marriage, and« 
 brought Clara to that old barrack on Ilawksview. 
 Wasn't it iiatural that I should tire uf it after a 
 while ? 1 did tire of it, and I left it. I have not 
 seen it from that day to this; but if she had had 
 patience to wait, I might have come back earlier. 
 Jiut she liad not. She wrote me a flight of vehe-
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 47 
 
 ment letters that I was too busy to answer ; so 
 she took it into her head that I had deserted her, 
 and meant to disavow the marriage, of which she 
 held abundant proofs; and Avhen the child was 
 born slie packed up, and went off with him and 
 her old nurse, heaven knows where." 
 
 "It is a deplorable story. The poor lady 
 seems much to be pitied," said Roger, to fill up 
 an awkward pause. 
 
 " And am not I also to be pjtied, who run the 
 risk of losing a magnificent estate through her 
 unfaithful impatience!" exclaimed Captain Yes- 
 cey. " Here is her own brother, the very first in 
 the plot to assassinate her reputation by raising a 
 question as to the validity of our marriage. She 
 notifies to me the birth and baptism of our child, 
 and then goes away and hides him and herself 
 in some misjgrable seclusion. She was my wife, 
 she k?i€io herself to be my wife ; ought she not 
 then, as in duty bound, to have remained where 
 I had placed her? She has periled her son's 
 inheritance by her precipitate folly, and her 
 own honor and mine, too. What was there 
 to prevent her living humbly at Ilawksview, 
 and bringing up the child respectably as I de- 
 sired ? It was imj>ossible for me to acknowl- 
 edge our marriage j list then; but it is surely a 
 very poor kind of love that cannot support a
 
 48 HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 lew cold looks and hard words for the sake of 
 its object I" 
 
 Ilo^er Boliun pressed his lips together to keep 
 in his stern disgust at this wicked and unreasoning 
 selfishness. 
 
 " I want to collect the witnesses of the birth 
 and baptism of this child," Captain Vescc}^ went 
 on. " 1 want anybody who can furnish informa- 
 tion as to where his mother conveyed him, when 
 she left Ilawksvie^, and whether either survives. 
 Clara was as proud as Lucifer, and would retain 
 the certificates of her marriage like dear life, 
 though she was bound by an oatli never to reveal 
 them without my leave; and if she diet!, which 
 1 have'reasuns for thinking slie did, she would 
 li-ave them as a sacred deposit for her son, with 
 - »me person in whom she had confidence — Janet 
 {Saunders, perhaps ; but I incline to ^Jiink it might 
 be Mr. Lowndes."' 
 
 When they reached the clerk's cottage, they 
 found the old man just retiring to bed; but the 
 prospect of an ample fee caused him to light his 
 lantern and lead the way to the church with 
 alacrit}'. It was now fallen dark, and as they 
 entered the edifice the stranger's restless eyes 
 Fearched the gloom impatiently. The register 
 being laid on the vestry tal>le the clerk oj^ened 
 his lantern, and Captain Vesccy looked eagerly
 
 HAWKSVIJiW. 49 
 
 from page to page until he lit upon the entry 
 he sought. The baptism was registered as that 
 of the son of Marmaduke Yescey and Clara his 
 wife. lioger immediately made the required copy, 
 und handed it to the stranger, saying, " Osythe 
 Dobbie, you know — the second witness — is the 
 parish clerk. You remember this baptism, John ?" 
 
 " O, yes, sir, an' good need too," replied the 
 official significantly. " It was long talked on by 
 t' auld rector." 
 
 Captain Yescey would have liked to question 
 him further, and sat down on the chest for the 
 purpose ; but Koger was growing a little impa- 
 tient, and closing the register he bade John restore 
 it to its place. " Can I oblige you in anything 
 else, Captain Yescey ?" he asked, stepping into 
 tlie chancel. The captain followed ; and while 
 John was Jacking the vestry door, he took the 
 lantern, and read some of the inscriptions on 
 the monumental tablets, which were chiefly tliose 
 of his own family. He diJ not appear to have 
 heard the curate's question; and without repeat- 
 ing it, Koger walked on to the porch, and thence 
 into the churchyard, where ho waited until the 
 stranger and old John rejoined him. 
 
 "'I feel convinced from this," said Captain 
 Yescey, showing the copy of the register, which 
 he still lield in his hand, " tliat Chira did confide
 
 50 JIAWKsVlhW. 
 
 ill Mr, Lowmk'B. lie iiiiL-^t liavc lel't soine one 
 behind him ; wlio would get his letters and his 
 papers at liis death V 
 
 '* Indeed, I cannot tell you. I am hut newly 
 arrived in the j)arish. John is more likely to 
 know than any one else." 
 
 But John, i)erhaps with an eye to ulterior 
 pecuniary profit, was suddenly attacke4 with deaf- 
 ness and defective memory. "Parson Lowndes 
 might ha' left kin; he could na' tell just then; 
 his memory whiles failed him." Captain Vcscey 
 said no more, hut paced slowly across tlie church- 
 yard beside Roger, until they came to the gate. 
 John hobbled after in haste, trembling for liis 
 lee, whicli did not appear to be forthcoming so 
 readily as was desirable. "Here's Miss Sage 
 Booties," cried he, with prompt revival of his 
 <l'»rmant faculties. " She wi>s the Parson's cousin ; 
 but they were aye at daggers drawn." 
 
 Captain Yescey turned shar])ly round to listen ; 
 but John had said his say for this time, and was 
 again nnite. "The fact is, you know nothing 
 for a certainty, and can only offer conjectures !" 
 cried he, petulantly, at this tantalizing silence. 
 " I fnust try Osythe Dobbie again. She was more 
 about Ilawksview than any one else." 
 
 " Osythe oft talks of that poor little bairn and 
 his mother, and wonders where they went to
 
 . IIAWKSVIKW. 51 
 
 when they left Ha%vl\sview,'' said the clerk, 
 insidiously cropping this forlorn hope. There 
 was a short pause, during which Roger opened 
 the gate into the rectorj garden and passed 
 through; Captain Yescey was folloAving hitn 
 absently, when John recalled him to himself by 
 intimating that the other gate went his way, 
 " One more question, and I will cease troubling 
 you to-niglit, Mr. Boliun. Has any one been 
 brought from a distance for interment in this 
 church during the last ten years ?" asked he. 
 
 " I must again refer you to John's memory^ ; or, 
 if it will be more satisfactory, we can go over the 
 register of burials for that period to-morrow morn- 
 ing." John remembered two funerals of strange 
 folk ; but whether they were men or women ho 
 could not I'ightlings say. The register M'ould tell 
 best, for there were no stones to the graves. 
 
 " Then we will go over the register as you 
 propose, Mr. Bohun," said Captain Yescey. 
 " Clara once said she should like to be buried 
 here; and as our vault is in the church, she may 
 have liad a fancy to be laid in it." 
 
 "Yescey vault has not been opened in my 
 time; ihat I do know," declared the clerk, ex- 
 plicitly. " T' last of t' family, your father — auld 
 Duke, as we ca'ed him i' t' dale — was drowned at 
 sea, I've heard." Captain Yescey made him no
 
 52 IIAWKSMKW. 
 
 answer; but thankiiiir the curate for liis civility, 
 took Lis way back to the inn, the unlee'd John 
 tblloM'ino; close upon his heels, 
 
 AVlicn Roger re-entered the rectory drawing- 
 room, he was immediately assailed by Agnes with 
 question after question, to only one of wliich could 
 he return a i)erfectly satisfactory answer ; namely, 
 that the forsaken lady of Ilawksviewaras Captain 
 Yescey's wife ; and that his visit to Boscombe 
 was for the pur^^ose of hunting up evidence of 
 iier present place of concealment if she were 
 living, or of her death if she were dead. Roofer 
 could not thrill her fe'elings by any dramatic 
 story of the stranger, because he was so niatter- 
 of-fact, bad, and selfish — a man of the world, 
 worldly, not a hero of romance ; but h^did say 
 that what he had seen of him he disliked. " Yes, 
 intuitively, Roger, I have faith in those anti- 
 ])athie6 which look at first sight unreasonable," 
 oricd Agnes, with energy. " That man gave 
 me a thrill of repulsion. Whenever I conceive 
 such a dislike, ar.d am afterward won over to a 
 better opinion, I am sure to come back, sooner or 
 later, to my first way of thinking. It is an instinct 
 such as children and animals iiave." 
 
 " You condemn Captain Yescey on instinct, 
 then ?" asked Eli Uiirt(.n. 
 
 " And on evidence, tov. Is lie not a bad man ?
 
 IIAAVKSVIKW. 53 
 
 Look at his countenance, and think of that young 
 creature left alone at Hawksview !" replied Agnes, 
 flushing with indignant pity. " And the poor 
 little baby ! O ! 1 am sure he is all wickedness ; 
 and I do hope it may never fall into his hands. 
 It would be far better brought up as a laborer's 
 child." Since Agnes had learnt that her kind 
 womanly sympathies might be enlisted in the 
 cause of a virtuous wife, instead of a hapless 
 light-o'-love, she was more open and vehement 
 in the expression of her detestation for Captain 
 Yescey. She was never apathetic ; what she felt 
 strongly, she showed forcibly and fearlessly. ' 
 
 While they were still talking about the stranger, 
 he rode by at a gallop. He was returning to 
 Hawksview^ after having supped at the inn ; but 
 why he went thither nobody could even con- 
 jecture. Osytlie Dobbie, who watched him on 
 liis w^ay, told it in the village, with ghostly ampli- 
 fications, that he stayed there all night, and only 
 came back to tlie inn to breakfast. He was not 
 alone that niglit, she asserted ; a slim white 
 figure, with long yellow liair, dripping like a 
 drowned woman's, ran by him in the lane, cling- 
 ing to his bridle ; he could not shake it off, and 
 the same shadowy figure went in with him at the 
 broken gate. Osythe said she heard him cursing 
 and swearing at the thing horribly ; but it would
 
 54 HAWKSVIKW. 
 
 not quit its hokl, and wlicu lie got off his h 
 at the door, it cast its arms about his neck and 
 kissed him on the mouth, as with a perfect aban- 
 don of jo}'. Half Bosconibe believed this fable ; 
 and Agnes said, with a shudder, " Ah ! he de- 
 sef ves to be haunted !" while Eli Burton remarked 
 that Osythe was a charmingly imaginative old 
 woman, and he must have some talk with lier. 
 " But what will become of lier rejiutation as 
 ghost-seer if the lost wife should turn out even- 
 tualy to be alive ?" suggested he.
 
 HAWKSVIIOW. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 The rich livino- of Boscombe-Mao;na was held at 
 this period by the Reverend Augustus Blaydes, a 
 gentleman who did all his duties by deputy, 
 whicli, if popular report was to be believed, was 
 quite as well or even better than if he liad at- 
 tempted to do them in person. He resided at 
 Florence, and received annually the snm of eight 
 hundred and fifty pounds for nominating a curate 
 to look after the souls of Boscombe, Moat, and 
 AVho'd-ha-thowt-it — a cluster of cottages which 
 took their name from having been built in one of 
 the most out-of-the-way and unwholesome locali- 
 ties that could possibly ]iave been devised. 
 
 Under the prolonged regency of curates which 
 had i^receded Roger Bohim's coming, the parish 
 had fallen into a state of anarchy, where confu- 
 sion was worse confounded by the perpetual in- 
 terference of a self-elected, spontaneously-acting, 
 female churchwarden. Miss Sage Booties by name, 
 a maiden lady of independent property, wlio lived
 
 5G IIA-\VKSVIEAV. 
 
 at the Old Moat House. Slie liad been a crook 
 in tlie lot of every curate 'svho had come to Bos- 
 combe during the last ten 3'ears, and had gener- 
 ally succeeded in driving them from their post 
 before they had held it twelve months. The 
 Keverend Augustus Blaydes would have been glad 
 to exterminate her — none the less glad, perhaps, 
 because she was his aunt, and must leave her 
 money to somebody. Over the poor she tyran- 
 nized M'itli sheaves of violent tracts of her own 
 inditing, and a sort of conjurer's bottle of univer- 
 sal specific, whence streamed, with fatal iluency, 
 phj'sic for every ill to which flesh is heir. "Who- 
 ever refused to read her good little books, or to 
 swallow doses of Globb's renovator, fell under the 
 ban of her severest displeasure. Her plump, 
 sanctimonious poiTlcs, to which a heterodox miner 
 liad given the sobriquets of Amen and Hallelujah, 
 stopped no more with eleemosynary half-crowns 
 at such excommunicated doors, nor yet with doles 
 of welcome Christmas flannel. Her meagre skirts 
 swept in charitable domiciliary visits over other 
 thresholds ; whilst violenfc denunciation pursued 
 the defender even as it were within the shadow 
 of the church ; for he or she was always complained 
 of to the curate for the time being, and threaten- 
 ed with vague si)iritual penalties that were never, 
 to anybody's knowledge, carried into eff'ect. Miss
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 57 
 
 Sage Booties had been born with a mission, which 
 mission was, the perfectibility of human nature — 
 poor human nature especially — and she toiled at 
 it without ceasing. She meddled with every- 
 thing; and whatever she meddled with, she mar- 
 red. She dictated to Squire Brough about the 
 division of the Canaan at Moat. She first built 
 "VVho'd-ha'-thowt-it, and then undertook the con- 
 version of its inhabitants by means of the tracts 
 afore-mentioned, thereby driving them for more 
 comfortable doctrine to the little Bethel of Lang- 
 with-in-the-dale. She sent tiny cocked-hat notes 
 to the board of guardians, to advise the discontin- 
 uance of parish pay to the Widow Glossop, as 
 a light character, she having attended Boothe fair 
 with her six children, and treated them to round- 
 about, swing-boat, and nuts, out of the public 
 money. She undertook the management of the 
 clothing club, and brought the accounts into inex- 
 tricable confusion. She presided over the bi-weekly 
 distribution of soup in winter, and burnt both it 
 and her own fingers most grievously therewith. 
 On" the first Sunday of Roger's appearance in 
 the reading desk at Boscombe church she arrived 
 very early, and wearing her most critical specta- 
 cles. She eyed both him and the sweet girlish 
 face in the rectory pew with marked disfavor 
 throughout the service ; and though Koger gave 
 3*
 
 58 JIAWKSVILW. * 
 
 a truly admirable discourse of twcntj'-fivc min- 
 utes in lengtli, slic pronounced both him and his 
 wife, in ^he hearing of lialf the congregation, as 
 she left her pew, " A pair of babes in the wood, 
 and nothing else." 
 
 The new curate had the pleasure of making her 
 personal acquaintance the day after. lie was 
 sent to Moat to pray with a poor woman who was 
 not expected to live until the morrow ; and there, 
 wrangling over the patient, who was suflering 
 from acute, internal inflammation, he found the 
 parish doctor and his irregular rival. Miss Sage 
 Booties, on her own responsibility,* had adminis- 
 tered a large dose of Globb's renovator a few 
 hours before, and as the basis of that popular 
 specific was brandy, its effects on the sufferer had 
 been far from salutary; yet there the lady stood, 
 firm in her own convictions, and resolved to sup- 
 port the reputation of Globb to the last. Even 
 when the doctor, in fineable language, vowed that 
 she should be indicted for manslaughter if the 
 case had a fatal termination, she was still proudly 
 unipoved. Tiie patient, however, recovered, and 
 Miss Sage Booties ever afterward referred to her 
 triumpliantly as a person whom she had saved 
 from death and Doctor Drake, l>y a timely and 
 copious administration of Globb's llenovator. 
 
 In the course of his parish rounds, lloger stum-
 
 HAWKS VIEW. 50 
 
 bled perpetually against the female clmrcli-warJ- 
 en's enactments — the real officials being mere dum 
 mies, in abject subservience to her authority, 
 while the schoolmaster ran at her beck and quaked 
 at her frown. This despotism was too ignomi- 
 nious to be borne, and he determined to put a 
 check upon it. But he did not yet know his an- 
 tagonist. She was a woman of inexhaustible re- 
 sources; and no sooner was she defeated on one 
 quarter than she made her attack on another, 
 more vigorously and vehemently than before. 
 Ivoger's doctrine, his delivery, his person, his 
 dress, his wife, his child, his house, his servants, 
 was each in turn the theme of her animadversions. 
 She wrote to her nephew, the Reverend Augustus 
 Blaydes twice a week, demanding his immediate 
 removal, first on the score of hfs being lukewarm, 
 then of his being bigoted, prelatical, tainted with 
 divers heresies, and generally unmanageable. 
 
 Such was the formidable single gentlewoman 
 whom Captain Yescey undei'took to beard in her 
 den, in pursuit of intelligence respecting his wife 
 and son. He waited upon her the morning after 
 her visit to the rectorj^, sent in liis card, and asked 
 a short interview on business of the last import- 
 ance. The servant who carried in his name to 
 her mistress was alarmed at the angry storm it ex- 
 cited. Miss Sage Booties was ordinarily dignified
 
 00 nAWKSVIEW. 
 
 even in licr wratli ; l)ut the old lady flung down 
 the card aud stamped on it, crying out in a shrill 
 tone which penetrated to the cars of the gentle- 
 man in the next room, " Captain Vescey, indeed ! 
 Captain Rascal, Captain Knave, Captain Fool, 
 Capt.ain Villain ! How dure he come on his busi- 
 ness to me ! He thinks to get me to betray her, 
 docs he ? — then he won't ! Piper, 1 shan't see him !" 
 Piper picked up the card, carried it back to 
 the Captain, and told him lier mistress could not 
 receive him — an intimation which he met with 
 admirable calmness ; for lie had overheard that 
 significent sentence, " He thinks to get me to be- 
 tray her, docs he?" and was thereby assured tliat 
 his wife still lived, and that her place of conceal- 
 ment was known to at least one person in the 
 neighborhood — and if to one, why not to more ? 
 The spinster lady, animated by a laudable curiosi- 
 ty, could not refrain from peeping out into the 
 hall to watch the exit of her discomfited visitor, 
 and Captain Vescey, 4etecting her in the act of 
 esj)ial, lifted his hat with a derisive courtesy, 
 which chafed her too sorely to let her keep silence. 
 " Don't you come to Moat again, Cai)tain Black- 
 leg!" cried she ;" '• Osythe Dobbie has been here 
 to tell me whom you arc seeking. 1 know no- 
 thing about your wifr, and if 1 did, I would not 
 tell yon! Pijjcr, turn liini out!"
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 01 
 
 Piper, being a timid little shrimp of a woman, 
 might have found some difficulty in ejecting the 
 tall Captain, if he had not gone of his own accord, 
 which he did, whistling an incredulous reply to 
 the irate lady's assurance that she knew nothing 
 about his wife — at least, so Miss Sage Booties 
 understood him. On leaving the Old Moat 
 House, he went straight to the rectory, and told 
 Roger of his ill success ; and though no longer 
 believing that his wife was dead, he looked 
 through the register of burials, as the curate had 
 proposed the niglit before. He found no name 
 answering to hers ; and the search being ended, 
 as if there were an impelling necessity upon him 
 to oj^en his mind to some one, he explained, at 
 length, what depended on the issue of his pursuit 
 to Roger and Eli Burton, neither of whom, it 
 must be confessed, was at all ambitious of his 
 confidence. 
 
 The case lay in a nutshell. A wealthy Leith 
 merchant, his wife's godfather, had, by a will 
 made so long ago as at her christening, left her 
 his sole heiress. A handsome landed estate in 
 Berwickshire was entailed upon her children, but 
 all the personal property was left entirely at her 
 free disposal. In case she should die unmarried, 
 ':he whole was to revert to her brother or his de- 
 scendants, and tailing them, to the public chari-
 
 f)2 1IA^VKSVIK^V. 
 
 ties of his native place. Ko later will had been 
 discovered, though there was some suspicion that 
 one had existed, ■which had been made soon after 
 her marriage, and Captain Yescey "was now sel- 
 fishly bent on authenticating his union and pro- 
 ducing his son, as the indispensable preliminariea 
 to entering on the enjoj'ment of a fortune, which 
 his wildest dreams had never anticipated as falling 
 to his lot. Tiius far he had obtained no clue ; 
 but the motives that actuated him were far too 
 powerful to suffer him to be easily baffled in his 
 pursuit, though, after several days of unwearied 
 research, the only reliable information he had ob- 
 tained was, that those he sought, had made a 
 night flitting of it, and had left Iluwksviewon foot. 
 
 %
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 63 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 When the rumor spread abroad in the country 
 that Captain Yescey was come to Boscombe in 
 search of the lady whom he had deserted and tlie 
 child she had borne, it was not many people who 
 found it in their hearts to cry him " good sj)eed." 
 In the course of a few days masons, carpenters, 
 and painters were at work at Hawksview to bring 
 the place into habitable condition ; and when 
 it thus appeared certain that Captain Yescey 
 was about to take up his residence there, specula- 
 tion and gossip became rife. In less than a week 
 he had entered on possession, and Osythe Debbie 
 was hired to attend upon him. In her new office 
 the old woman grew mysteriously tantalizing, 
 and pursed up her lips conscientiously when any- 
 body would have catechised her about her mas- 
 ter's doings. "They were a nice pair," said one 
 baffled inquirer ; " it was easy to guess who would 
 make a third at their plots and colloguings — 
 nought good, be very sure." It would be impos-
 
 C4 IIAWKSVIKW. 
 
 siblc to cite one half of the al>snrd stories t#-which 
 the strani^cr's arrival iravo currenev ; hut after 
 the first enthusiiism of wonder and curiosity were 
 exhausted, lie was permitted to go on living at 
 Ilawksview, without exciting more than an occa- 
 sional gpasra of interest. 
 
 His fii-st discovery of importance was of a man 
 who had assisted in transporting several packages 
 from Ilawksview to Bootlie,' where they lay in 
 warehouse some weeks, and were then removed 
 by a public carrier, whose weekly circuit extend- 
 ed from Boothe to the coast, and included half-a- 
 dozen insignificant fishing villages, as well as 
 some places of higher standing. This second person 
 either could not or would not remember anything 
 that had happened bolVire the current year, and 
 proved utterly surly and unmanageable; but 
 Ca])tain Yesccy suspected from his guarded man- 
 ner that he was perfectly well informed as to the 
 ultimate destination of the goods he had removed 
 under such peculiar Circumstances ; and, there- 
 fore, having obtained a knowledge of the different 
 towns and villages the carrier called at, he deter- 
 mined on making a personal tour of investigation. 
 AVith a view to insure secrecy, he confided his in- 
 tentions to no one; but, telling Osythe Dobbieto 
 expect his return daily till she saw him, he rode 
 away from Ilawksview one eveniug after du6k,
 
 HAWKSVIKW, 65 
 
 passed |he niglit at Bootlie, and the next morn- 
 ing with the shabby valise strapped behind him 
 and the felt hat flapped down over his eyes, he 
 pursued his journey in the same doubtful guise in 
 which Roger Bohun and Agnes had first seen 
 him riding up to Ilawksview. As it was the 
 tourists' season, and the line of country he had to 
 take was a favorite one among the students of the 
 picturesque, his somewhat remarkable figure ex- 
 cited little observation, and he went on his way 
 with an eager hope that he had hold of the end 
 of the clue which would lead him, at length, to 
 the retreat of his wife and child. 
 
 On the afternoon of the third day from his 
 leaving Hawks view, Captain Yescey rode into 
 tlie town of Wliitmouth. His horse had fallen 
 dead lame ; and under a blazing harvest sun, 
 along a dusty, unsheltered, lime white road, the 
 last few miles of his journey had been anything 
 but pleasant. Under these circumstances, the 
 first inn he came to, by the hospitable sign of 
 the " Traveler's Rest," looked especially inviting ; 
 so he dismounted, threw his rein to a lad who was 
 loitering about t]ie door, and went into the com- 
 mon room where the landlord was reading a 
 week-old provincial paper. Having ordered a 
 bottle of wine, and the best dinner the house 
 afforded, lie lounged on the wide padded settle,
 
 00 IIAWKSVIKW. 
 
 and smoked out of the -window sulkily, jtfic liad 
 thus far met -with no sort of success in his expedi- 
 tion ; and though not exactly disheartened, he 
 ■was extremely out of humor. Here there Avas 
 nothing to distract his thoughts, or to amuse him, 
 even, had he been capable of amusement. Tlie 
 inn parlor was buff and red, like most other mar- 
 itime inn parlors, with pictures of favorite brigs 
 on the walls, an immense bow-pot of honeysuckle 
 in the chimney, and a pervading odor of last 
 night's pipes. The external prospect was not 
 more cheerful. The house was on the ascent of 
 a steep, roughly paved street, which was almost 
 deserted in the heat of the afternoon's sun. At 
 the open door of a cottage opjiosite, hung a cage 
 full of singing birds; and on the step sat a child 
 knitting, with a dog at lier feet asleep. Kow 
 and then a group of amphibious-looking men, too 
 tired to be noisy, came slou'ching along with short 
 ])ipes in their mouths, and iisliiiig-nets or creels 
 slung uver their shoulders ; and once a wicker- 
 cjirriage, drawn by a pair of donkeys, and con- 
 taining a whole small family, went leisurely past. 
 A little way above the inn was an old-fashioned, 
 rough-cast house, w ith a white board stretchiuir 
 across its front whieh, in gigantic capitals, inforiii- 
 cd all whom it may concern that batiis, botli hot 
 and cold, were to be had there. As his eye caught
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 67 
 
 this t»m23tmg announcement, Captain Vescey 
 heard a series of remonstrative and strangled 
 chuckings, as of a fowl just impounded; and, 
 thinking that if his dinner were in that unde\"el- 
 oped stage he had time for the luxury of a bath, 
 he sauntered forth, lazily puffing at the end of his 
 cigar, with tlie intention of taking one. While 
 he was crossing the road to the house, the slow, 
 ponderous roll of some heavily laden vehicle, be- 
 gan to ascend the hill, and he recognised in the 
 driver the Boothe carrier. The man acknowledg- 
 ed him with a stolid, inexpressive countenance, 
 and M^ent on to "The Traveler's Rest," where his 
 horses stopped of their own accord. When Cap- 
 tain Yescey returned to the inn, the wagon was 
 creaking and straining at the moment of depar- 
 ture. The owner looked more stupid than ever 
 after copious libations of beer ; and, in stumbling 
 down the three steps into the street, he pushed 
 rudely against Captain Yescey, who was coming 
 in. The Captain swore at him for a drunken sot, 
 and then struck him smartly across the face with 
 the^riding-whip that he had in his hand. The. 
 man turned round savagely to retaliate ; but the 
 landlord interposed, put him out at the door, and 
 bade him be off before he got into mischief again ; 
 so he contented himself with scowling malignant- 
 ly at his assailant, and promising to be even with
 
 68 ii.vwKsvir.w. 
 
 liim before long. Csxptiiiu Yescey laughed deii- 
 sively, and shook his whip with a menacing and 
 sigiiilieant gesture. 
 
 " Ye're no wise to provoke Branker ; he ancc 
 killed a man," said a girl who was waiting to see 
 the wagon off, and who was perhaps perilously 
 interested by the stranger's beauty. Wliatever 
 Captain Yescey lacked, he did not lack personal 
 courage, and was not likely to be intimidated by 
 the threats of an angry boor. Scarcely observing 
 the girl's pertinent warning, he turned into the 
 parlor where his dinner awaited him, as the wag- 
 on labored up the hill toward the more bustling 
 ])arts of the town. 
 
 In the evening Captian Yescey strolled down 
 to the beach to dissipate his ill mood, and consid- 
 er what next he should do for the furtherance of 
 his object. lie could not learn that any persons, 
 answering to the description of those whom he 
 sought, were known to reside in or near "\Yhit- 
 mouth, though the landlord of "The Traveler's 
 Rest" said he could name every one — gentle and 
 simple — that belonged to the neighborhood.
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 69 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 Tntc bold and broken coast about AVhitmoiith 
 stretches out in long, narrow promontories, wliicb 
 form beautiful little bays, where the sand is as 
 fine and shining as grains of gold. The cliffs rise 
 straight and precipitous, the lower parts being of 
 hard flinty rock, where the action of the waves, or 
 perhaps some convulsion of nature, has torn deep, 
 cavern-like fissures, through which the tide roars 
 and surges, even in calm weather, with a tempes- 
 tuous music. Above the stony strata are bluff's and 
 hollows of red clay, the upper levels of which are 
 clothed with a close green turf bright with daisies, 
 crowsfoot, and orchis. In some few places adven- 
 turous cragsmen have made a perilous footing up 
 the slanting face of the cliff, by cutting little niches 
 in the rocks, but they are, for the most part, quite 
 inaccessible. The tide runs up into these bays 
 with one grand tumultuous sweep after it has 
 crossed the bar ; not wave by wave creeping in- 
 sidiously over the sands, but with a hungry foam-
 
 70 lIAAVKftVimV. 
 
 crested swell, which dashes against the cliii's 
 breast-high at once, and then rises swiftly up to 
 the verge of the clay, lapping the emerald grass 
 and s})rinkling the rose-briers with salt spray. In 
 utter ignorance of this dangerous peculiarity, 
 Cajitain Yescey sauntered meditatively along un- 
 til he had left "Whitmouth nearly three miles be- 
 hind. The breeze had freshened, and the clouds 
 hung low and red on the western horizon, Wliere 
 the cliffs plunged sheer down to the sea without 
 any margin of treacherous sand. The tide was 
 coming in with a sudden roar, and he sat down 
 on a huge boulder of rock to rest and watch the 
 irulls flyiufj close to the water, in the idea that it 
 Avould be time enough to return to his dreary inn 
 when the sun had gone down behind the long pro- 
 montory which, with^ts line of dangerous under- 
 water rocks, was called by the mariners along the 
 coast "Death's Head." lie was smoking, and 
 drawing lines on the firm beach with a i)oint of a 
 switch that lie had cut before descending the 
 cliffs, when a shrill cry behind caused him to look 
 around, and he saw a lad about lialf-way down 
 ge^iculating vehemently, and pointing toward the 
 f-ea. It was some time bvfore Captain Vescey 
 could understand what he meant ; but at last he 
 ])erceived that lie continued to wave his arm to- 
 ward the nearest point, round the bat-e of which
 
 IIA-WKSVIEAV. 71 
 
 the tide had not risen ; and supposing tliat some 
 pei'son was in danger there, and that the lad could 
 not descend the precipitous clifts, he set off toM^ard 
 it; but the distance was deceptive, and much 
 longer than it seemed, and before he could reach 
 it, the white foam was dashing over the broken 
 masses that fringed its foot. Then, and not till 
 then, did he perceive that the danger was his 
 ow)i. He had had some rough experience and 
 hair-breadth escapes in his time; but at this mo- 
 ment he would have given all his chances of fu- 
 ture fortune for one stj[uare foot of solid standing 
 ground on the top of those haggard rocks. He 
 was enclosed in a crescent of clitfs, the two horns 
 of M'hich were alreadj^ deep buried in the water, 
 and up the face of which there was not footing 
 for a bird. The lad, whose warning had come too 
 late, had disappeared ; perhaps he was gone to 
 summon help, or he might only have run on be- 
 yond the point to indicate some way of ascending 
 the clift' there. In a few seconds Captain Vescey 
 had calculated his chances of escape. He marked 
 the dark reef parallel with the inner promontory, 
 and saw, that once the tide level with its jagged 
 top, it would sweep up to where he stood 
 in one gigantic billow, with certain destruc- 
 tion upon its crest. Anxiously his eye searched 
 the black barrier where, far over head, festooned
 
 72 HAMKSVIKW. 
 
 with tfinrrle and menuaid's hair, j)rojoetcd a sort 
 of ledge which to any one directly below, was 
 like a marine roof ernstod with shells. Each siic- 
 cefsive wave rose higher and higher; his life 
 seemed now only an affair of moments — moments 
 swarming with the remembrances of a bad life, 
 and all the qnickcned, struggling serpent nest of 
 sins, whicli he had made his bosom friends, only 
 to sting him now. 
 
 When the perfect hopelessness of escape by 
 his own ingenuity became manifest, lie flung 
 awa3-the end of his cigar,wliich he had smoked so 
 closely as almost to burn his lips, and faced round 
 to watch the tide. lie quoted it in after life, by 
 way of a bravado of coolness, that in this mo- 
 ment of imminent peril, he drew out his cigar- 
 case and match-box, and lighted and began anoth- 
 er, which he finished as he walked back to Whit- 
 mouth on the top of the clilfs. It might be true, 
 for he was a man of singular resolution and vast 
 j)hysical powers; still he suffered that quiver 
 which must convulse every mortal, let him be 
 ever so brave or ever so phlegmatic, at the pros- 
 pect of a cruel and violent death which he must 
 meet jnissively. 
 
 "To be drowned like a rat in a hole," was his 
 thought, and a very black tlionght it looked, so 
 near at hand ; but he ha<l scarcely accepted it as
 
 IIAWKSVIKW. 73 
 
 Lis possible — naj, \us, prohable — lute, when a lino 
 of a strong cable ran over the ledge, and dropped 
 on the sands only a few feet from him. It was 
 partially steadied by a lump of ore attached to the 
 end ; but it still looked only a perilous ladder to 
 mount all that dizzy height, and might well make 
 even a man of iron nerve hesitate to trust himself 
 to it were there any alternative ; but here there 
 was none. It seemed the very straw at which 
 drowning hands clutch in blind desperation yet 
 hope of life. 
 
 "Now, sir, hand over hand, it's your only 
 chance !" roared a man, projecting his body half 
 over the cdiff; "hold on like grim death, and 
 never look down : t' rope 's right fast aboon 
 here." 
 
 Captain Yescey needed no second bidding ; he 
 began to climb, now resting his knees against 
 the rocks, which scored his hands terribly, and 
 then wavering in mid-air, with no hold but the 
 cable. His weight was an immense strain upon 
 it ; and the sharp marge of the ledge cut one 
 twist through before he had made one-half of the 
 giddy ascent. Fortunately he could not know 
 this added peril, or it might have unnerved him, 
 and made his movements slow and unsteady. 
 As it was, every beat of tlie clock lessened his 
 chances of escape ; any hesitation, any faltei'ing 
 4
 
 74 HAWKS'VIEW. 
 
 must have been fatal. Tliose above watclicd liia 
 slow progress, witli lijis compressed and hearts 
 beating anxiously, until he came to the level 
 where they were. Just as the tide rushed over 
 the bar and foamed up ag:ainat the rocks below, 
 he laid one hand upon the ledge, and gathered 
 all his remaining strength for the lift tliat was 
 to bring liim upon its upper surface. Several 
 diggers from the adjacent quarries were on the 
 spot, and now lending the aid of their brawny 
 arm?, soon pulled him up amongst them, with 
 no worse hurt than a few severe bruises, and 
 looking as cool to all appearance a^ if he had 
 been mounting an ordinary staircase. 
 
 "That was just the sickest minute ever you 
 lived through, master; and you may thank Biidy- 
 fute yonder that it wurn't t' last," said one of 
 them, di-awing up the chafed rope, and with a 
 siLgle vigorous efl'ort snapping it in twain. 
 
 Captain Vescey drew a long inspiration through 
 liis closed teeth. " Was that all V asked he, 
 pointing to the frayed ends; and then he swore 
 a great oath, that the devil had had a narrow 
 miss of him this time. 
 
 " It's })lain you're not to die t' sailor's death," 
 paid an old grim-visagod miner; "bnt Vn\ think- 
 ing ye might ha' framed better thanks than yon. 
 It warn't Satan 'at helpit ye; or gae ye a lang
 
 HAWK8VIEW. Y5 
 
 day to save your soul." Jcrnmic Grosstliw^ite 
 was a Methodist, and would hare been glad to 
 improve tlie occasion to the profit of his hearers ; 
 but Captain Yescey was in no mood for an im- 
 promptu sermon, and cut him short by drawing 
 forth his purse, and proceeding to distribute to 
 each of tlie men a much larger gratuity than his 
 present means warranted ; but at wliat moment 
 is a man liable to a fit of generosity if not at 
 tliat when his life has just been saved. 
 
 "Tiiank ye kindly, sir," said Jemmy, who had 
 no objection to pocket his fee, although, as he 
 w^onld unctuously iiave expressed it, the donor 
 was a " titbit for hell-mouth." "Thank ye kind- 
 ly. If every ane I've lent a hand to haul up 
 atwcen this an' Death's Head sin' I were a lad 
 had been as free wi' their money as you, I'd ha' 
 a grand fine spoil i' AVhitmouth bank this day." 
 
 " Have you many accidents of the kind, then?" 
 Captain Yescey asked. 
 
 "There's been more strangers 'at had got 
 'emselves into your predicament lost i' t' tide 
 down o' them sands than ha' been saved ; either 
 help cam' too late, or they darn't trust to t' rope, 
 but they're not sae common now as ance they 
 were. People's getting to knaw t' beach, an' they 
 don't run their heads into wilful paril. Even 
 fools doesn't. Besides, there's coils o' rope handy,
 
 76 IIAWKSVIEW. 
 
 and Birdyfuto an' t' other lads anionji: 'urn kce}> 
 a keen look-out to warn folk if they wander over 
 far. "When t' tide is on t' turn, a wise man 
 wilhi't rumid t' Cat's-head ; yen's it, that big, 
 low, blunt rock, a mile an' a half fra' Wliit- 
 nioutli. 
 
 " Ane good turn deserves another, you'll own, 
 Sir," said the man who had first spoken ; " an' as 
 we be going into Whitmouth for a spree, mayhap 
 you'll pick up lilc Birdyfute, and take him on 
 your back to his mothpr, for t' bairn has hurted 
 liis foot badly wi' running, and I doubt he can't 
 walk liome." 
 
 Birdyfute, as the quarry men called him, was 
 the lad who had warned Captain Vescey from the 
 cliff. He now sat on one of tlie green slopes a 
 little higher up, his bonny brown face contracted 
 with pain, and a sickly pallor on his lips. As tlie 
 stranger approached, he looked up at him with a 
 pair of wistful filling eyes, and struggled bravely 
 not to cry out as he attempted to rise. 
 
 " "Well, my lad, I owe you my life, and you 
 liave got an accident in my service ; let me carry 
 3'ou home, and then you shall toll me in what 
 way I can best show you my gratitude,'' said the 
 Captain, in his gentlest tones; an<l when this man 
 chose to exhibit tenderness, or the similitude of 
 any of the finer emotions, he proved himself an
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 77 
 
 adept tlierc'in. His countenance softened, and his 
 voice crept in amongst tlie heart-strings as subtly 
 as tliat Satan-whiftper, which so long ago made 
 an ever-echoins' discord through all the ajies of 
 time. The child-i^istinct was bewildered by this 
 kind address ; and Birdyfute, though he smiled 
 faintly, said he would try to walk. Tliere was 
 the sign of a pride on his curled lip, that thought 
 shame to be carried like a baby ; fur he was a 
 iine, well-grown lad of ten years old at least, and 
 strong beyond his age. Oaptain Yescey bade him 
 take hold of his arm, and thus assisted, he con- 
 trived to iirap a few steps, but then was obliged 
 to give in ; the pain was too much for him. 
 
 " I'm afraid you wnll remember me sorrowfully 
 a long while, Birdyfute," said the Captain. 
 
 "JS^ ay, sir, it's only a sprain; I'll be running 
 about again in a day or two," was the brave 
 answer. He made another effort to proceed, but 
 the mere act of putting his foot to tiie ground 
 extorted from him a suppressed cry, and brought 
 the tears into his eyes ; they did not overliov.', 
 however. 
 
 " Come, fancy I am your father, and it will be 
 all right," said the Captain ; and, lifting the lad 
 in his arms wirh tlie utmost gentleness, he was 
 permitted to carry him without resistance. 
 
 " My father is not with us here ; he is a soldier, 
 
 5*
 
 78 HAWKSVIRW. 
 
 and he is away fighting the king's battles," re- 
 plied Birdyfiite. 
 
 " He will come back some day." 
 
 '* I don't know ; he has been so long away that 
 my mother tliinlcs periiaps he will not. I mean 
 to be a soldier too when I am big enough." 
 
 " Gallant boy ; I'll have you in my troop. 
 Ilere we are at two roads — which way must we 
 go?" 
 
 " Straight on." Birdyfute closed his eyes, and 
 seemed to resign hiniBelf complacently to his 
 bearded nurse ; a confidence whicli penetrated 
 some soft human bit of Captain Vesce3''8 heart, 
 f"»r he felt a peculiar satisfaction in watching the 
 beautifid sunburt young face that rested against 
 his shoulder. Tlie child wore a Holland blouse, 
 
 fastened around his waist with a broad leathern 
 
 « 
 
 belt, and from the numerous stains of purple 
 juice upon it, he had evidently been regaling on 
 the half-ripe blackberries with which the hedges 
 abounded. 
 
 " Why do they call you Birdyfute, my little 
 man ?" asked the Captain. 
 
 '' Because they say I hop about amongst the 
 rocks where there's only foot-hold for a bird. 
 But there are better climbers than me; Willie 
 Sleigh and his brother can get up the Cat's-head 
 from the sands — I can't. I tried once, and fell
 
 UAAVKSVIEW. 79 
 
 and got a hurt that friglitened niy mother, and 
 she said I must promise never to try again ; I 
 shan't till I'm older, Willie Sleigh is fourteen, 
 and he works at the quarries." 
 
 " And I dare say you go to school ?" 
 
 There was a little hesitation in Birdyfute's 
 answer ; " No I don't ; my mother teaches me," 
 said he. 
 
 " But you will go to school by and bye ? 
 
 "I'd rather not. How do you think I can get 
 to be a soldier, sir? How long shall I have to 
 wait ?" 
 
 " We could make a little drummer of you 
 already, I think," replied the Captain, laughing 
 at his martial ardor. 
 
 " But I shall not be a drummer. My father is 
 a gentleman, and commands the men. I want to 
 be a great general." 
 
 "Then, my lad, you have a long time to wait. 
 I am not a general yet myself, nor am I likely 
 to be." 
 
 Bii-dyfute opened his eyes eagerly, and seemed 
 for a moment to forget the pain of his injured 
 foot. " You are a soldier! You have seen a 
 battle ? Ah ! I wish you would tell me about it," 
 cried he. 
 
 Captain Yescey said he had been in several 
 battles, and he would talk about them when he
 
 80 llAWKSVIEW, 
 
 got liiiu liome, but fur tlie present, he liad not 
 breath enough. The May they Mere taking Avas 
 by a steep deseent, whieh shut out all view uf tlie 
 sea. A rivulet ran in the middle of the lane, 
 Mhich could be crossed at intervals by slight foot- 
 bridges formed of a single plank. The hill-sides 
 ^uere covered 'with young wood to the toj), and 
 became both steeper and cluser the furtlier they 
 went. The last bend of the road brought them in 
 sight of the ocean ; and, almost down upon the 
 shore where the stream i-an into it, of a pretfy 
 village Avhose ancient church on a green emi- 
 nence, and whose little white cottages nestled 
 amongst trees, formed, in the soft purj>ling atnios- 
 ]»here of sunset, a very sweet picture of primitive 
 rustic seclusion. 
 
 Birdyfute looked up. " Here we are," said he; 
 " our house is the first you come to. You mu^t 
 cross this bridge. There is Janet watering the 
 flowers, and that is my mother at the garden 
 gate." 
 
 Captain Vescey stopped suddeidy. "Birdy- 
 fute, what is your other name ?" he asked. 
 
 " Marniaduke Yescey." The lad lixcd his 
 Ktcadfast eyes on the Caj>tain's face ; and after 
 regarding him ibr a moment, he exclaimed, Avith 
 tremuli»U3 haste: "You are. I do believe you 
 nro iiiv father come home at last !"
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 81 
 
 "Yes, boy, yes!" and, with a tlirob of genuine 
 emotion, the Captain bent down his dark face 
 and kissed his son. 
 
 "Oil, joy! How glad ni}^ mother will be! 
 Do, do go on. Here is Janet coming to meet 
 us. But my mother does uot stir ; look at her ! 
 is she afraid ?" 
 
 " Birdyfute, has she often talked to you of my 
 return ?" 
 
 "Every day, every day. O ! I think she will 
 almost die for joy. And are you really and 
 trul}^ ray own father ?" 
 
 "Yes." Captain Yescey, advancing quickl}'', 
 met Janet as she ran out into the road crying 
 what had happened to the boy. Birdyfute waived 
 his hand and shouted, "Hurrah! Janet! My 
 father's come home from fighting the king's 
 battles at last!" 
 4*
 
 82 IIAWKSVIl w, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 C^VPTAJN Vescey gave the Loy into the old 
 Bcrvant's care, and went to meet his wife, wlio, 
 at Birdyfute's exclamation, liad rushed a few 
 Bteps toward him, and then as suddenly paused, 
 hor hands clonclied together and her ai'ins 
 stretched down in a sort of spasmodic tension, 
 as if she were almost paralysed by a shock of 
 jiiy or terror. 
 
 '" O ! Chira, how iiave 1 sought you ?" said 
 lier husband, with a reproachful tenderness of 
 tone, that c(>nveyed a sense of long and j^atiently 
 endured injury. He chose at once to place him 
 self in the position of accuser, that he might 
 ])rofit by its advantages in making terms for 
 their future intercourse. She did not answer, 
 but turned from him with a low cry, and covered 
 her face. 
 
 "Come in -doors," said Janet, touching her 
 mistress on the shoulder authoritatively, "liirdy- 
 fute has gotten him a 8i»rain, and you must help
 
 HAWKSVIE-W. 83 
 
 inc to bathe find T)ind it up. Keep you back," 
 she added in an undertone, and witli a scowl of 
 bitter distrust at the Captain ; but Clara stretched 
 out her hand and let him take it. 
 
 "I have taught him to love you," whispered 
 she, pointing to the child : " say you are not 
 come to take him from me?" 
 
 " When will you leave ofl' suspecting me, 
 Clara ?" Captain Yescey said coldly, as he drop- 
 ped her clinging fingers. 
 
 Poor little Birdj'fute — all his gleeful triumph 
 gone, unlieeded in his pain, and for the first time 
 in his life neglected by his mother — gazed from 
 one to the other in almost tearful bewilderment, 
 while Janet contemplated the scene with an ex- 
 pression of extreme discontent. " Come, my 
 sweet lammie," cried she at length, moved by his 
 piteous pale face, and kissing him passionately ; 
 " come awa', Janet '11 tend thee. I kenned how 
 it wad be if he suld come back to her, poor blind- 
 ed bairn !" and she carried him ofi\, leaving Cap- 
 tain Vescey and his wife together. 
 
 It was a moment of intense constraint. Clara 
 seemed lost. A thousand times and more, during 
 those long 3'ears of separation, had she prefigured 
 to herself the mingled delight and agony of such 
 a meeting. Sometimes a flood of wild reproaches 
 swept, desolating, over her imaginMion ; at others,
 
 JB4 • HAWKSVII.W. 
 
 she asked herself liad slie not hcon too impatient, 
 distrnstful, faitliless? Oiii^lit she not to liave 
 staved at Ila^vksview ; and, nncomjtlainini;, to 
 liave abided cruel sneei' and insult for licr dear 
 love'b sake? She had pictured lierself at one 
 moment denouncing him with fierce wonianl\' in- 
 dij^nation ; at anotlier, croucliinij^ at his feet, sup- 
 plicating forgiveness; and now that he was come, 
 file was mute, Thej stood apart from each otlier; 
 she, with the downcast air of a self-convicted 
 criminal awaiting condemnation ;' he, moved, 3'et 
 still fpiietlv observant of her, and strong in his 
 absolute coolness, interpreting everj quiver of 
 her li])S and every loud throb of her lieart in his 
 own favor. She was scarcely less beautiful than 
 in her maidenhood, so it cost him nothing to de- 
 f-cend fiom his cold superiority, and to say, in 
 that passionate accent whicli long ago made 
 every pulse of her beiug heat to his, " Goino 
 Clara, all is forgivcu I'' He opened his anns, and 
 she threw herself on his breast in a wild abandon- 
 ment of hal)pine^s, sobbing, " O ! ^farmaduke, 
 • and have you always loved me? You are far, 
 far more generous and forgiving than I deserve!" 
 He replied tenderly, but htill w itli a rebuke, 
 "For our ^ou's sake, Clara, you should never 
 have left Ilawksview." 
 
 "It wati for^im, for h>})t^ ^farmaduke, that I
 
 # 
 
 IIAWKSVIKW. 85 
 
 went away. I conld not bear that he slionld see 
 me despised. I believed that you had deserted 
 us; that you did not care what became of us " 
 
 " Ah ! Clara, weak and suspicious ! weak and 
 suspicious always ! When I left you I thought 
 soon to return, but my re'giuient was seiit abroad. 
 I went with Evans to Spain, and when I came 
 home, ill and wounded, you were gone from 
 Hawksview; you had left no trace; you were 
 lost to rae ! I sought you — ah ! what need to 
 speak of that now ! You are here — I hold you 
 in my arms. Clara, Clara ! how could you doubt 
 me ?'' 
 
 That painful, inarticulate cry broke from her 
 again. " Oh ! I was wicked, I was rash. Manna- 
 duke, but I was almost mad," said she, after a few 
 minutes of bitter weeping; " but you have for- 
 given me the past, let ns leave it for to-night. 
 Ah ! you do not know what I have sufiered P' 
 She lifted hci'self up, shuddering; put back her 
 loosened hair from her face, and began to walk 
 rapidly to and fro the room, talking all the time; 
 and, with the um-easoning vehemence of passion, 
 dragging piecemeal into light, every sore spot of 
 that melancholy past which she had just wished 
 to hide out of sight. " When you left me that 
 stormy March morning, I thought my senses 
 were forsaking me — that it was not, could not be
 
 86 i^^ HAWKSVIEAV. 
 
 real," said slie; "you were so cold and Imrried — 
 you spoke so liarshly — you drove me away IVoiu 
 you — you would none of my help. I was sick 
 with grief, and you did not irive me one kind 
 ■word. I waited a month as you bade me — then 
 I wrote. You sent me ilo an&wer. I wrote again, 
 twice, thrice — still nothing. The summer was 
 passing — our boy was born — and I thought surely 
 he will come to me now, I tried to pour out my 
 whole heart, to tell you how I loved you still. I 
 wrote to you of our child's pretty ways, and of 
 liow I had given liim your beloved name; but 
 you never answered me, you never came. O ! 
 it seemed cruel, it did seem very cruel. You had 
 wearied of me — you had abandoned me — you had 
 gone from Enghmd without releasing me from my 
 promise to keep our marriage secret, though you 
 knew how it had al)ased me fnjm the first '' 
 
 "llnsh, Clara, I do not know you — you are 
 not like your gentle self!" 
 
 "Ko, I must tell you all — then I will hush. 
 AV'omen cannot suffer so k»ng and be always 
 gentle, Marmaduke ; my life seemed the very 
 dregs of bitterness and shame ; I felt degraded ; I 
 trembled and blushed when any eye looked on 
 me. 1 thought every one des}>ised me as A miser- 
 able, lost Moman ! I prayed to God that I might 
 die ; but he was deaf like you: he would not hear
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. ^. 87 
 
 me. Then I began to say to myself, if I stay 
 lierc witli the child, when he grows up lie will 
 hear his mother scorned as an unworthy wretch ; 
 lie himself will perhaps learn to hate me for put- 
 ting on him the burden of a shameful name — I 
 will take him away to a strange place where we 
 are unknown. So we went — Janet, and he, and 
 I — we went secretly, that no one might trace 
 us, and that our secret might not follow us. Only 
 the old clergyman who christened my boy knew 
 when or where we went. He was kind ; he showed 
 me how it was my duty to live for the child, and 
 bring him up in the fear of God. He said that 
 my vow to you was not binding; but I kept it, 
 Marmaduke, I kept it, except to him." She 
 stopped suddenly, went up to her husband, and 
 looking eagerly into his face, asked, " You will 
 acknowledge us now, will you not! You will 
 release me from this self-reproach, this secret 
 shame ? O ! I have prayed for you day and 
 night ! I have taught our boy to love you ! I said 
 it was better that he should believe his father died 
 a soldier's death on the field of honor than that 
 he basely and cruelly disowned us. Yes, Mar- 
 maduke, he is a brave lad, and he has a tender 
 heart for you ; but lie loves his mother so that he 
 would hate you if he knew that you had meant 
 her any wrong!" The last few words were hissed
 
 88 i^^ HAM'KSVIKW. 
 
 • 
 
 out in fi fierco whisper; and Clara clenched licr 
 fingers in lu r liusband's sleeve, and looked at him 
 as if she would fain read the intent masked by his 
 dark impassable countenance. Ho felt that her 
 reviewal of the past had re-excited her suspicions 
 of him, and he desired for the present as much as 
 possible to avoid exjdanation and recrimination. 
 It was his ()l)jccf now to win his wife back to her 
 old habits of love and in)plicit confidence, with as 
 little retrospection as might be. He Avas not in- 
 disposed to let her bear the weight of selt"-bhimc 
 ultimately, providing that he could tranquilize 
 and make her hapjtv now ; and when lie spoke, it 
 was with a gentle melancholy, half loving and 
 iialf re])roaclifid, which brought the easy tears to 
 Clara's eyes. 
 
 " Ves, Clara, you are my wife, and Birdyfute 
 is my son, now before all the world, if you will," 
 said he. " My reasons for concealing our marriage 
 were removed long since ; but when I could have 
 acknowledged it, there was neither wife nor child 
 for me to claim. But come to me now and bo 
 ha]>py." 
 
 Shu crept into his arms, humbled and penitent, 
 yet gla<l with an inexpressible gladness. She 
 luid never ceased to lovu her husband, because a 
 Woman can pardon a great wrong, if the silki-n 
 chain of her afTection has not previously been
 
 IIAWKSVIKW. lA 89 
 
 fretted and frayed with tlie often recurrence of 
 slight, coldness and cruel tj. lie had left her 
 while her passion was still in the heyday of its 
 romance ; he came back to her, and her whole 
 soul went out to give him welcome. The next 
 few moments passed in a charmed silence. Clara 
 was rejoicing in her recovered happiness and her 
 restored pride — for slie was a proud woman even 
 in her love — and her husband was reflecting on 
 the quick and pleasant solution that evening had 
 brought to all his difficulties. The window of the 
 cottage was wide open to the garden, and the 
 sound of the sni'f breaking heavily on the shore 
 was distinctly audible. It recalled to Captain 
 Yescey his recent peril and escape ; and, after 
 listening to it for an instant, he said, " Clara, do 
 you ever go down upon those sands ? But for 
 little Birdyfute, you might have seen me to-mor- 
 row lying drowned under the rocks, or perhaps 
 have never seen me again." 
 
 Clara seemed scarcely to understand him at 
 first ; but, as lie briefly detailed the particulars 
 of his adventure, she clasped tier arms round him 
 and cried, " O, Marmaduke ! so near to me and 
 to have been lost! God himself surely guided 
 our child to save you! And he was hurt, you 
 eay ! "Where is he? Birdyfute!" She raised 
 .her voice and called him twice or thrice, but
 
 90 1^ IIAWKSVIKW. 
 
 Vitliont leaving her husband's side. Janet 
 came in. 
 
 *• Birdvfiitc is in liis bed," replied she stiffly, 
 in answer to a question as to what had become 
 of him. ''1 ha" hoimd his ancle tliat his mother 
 suld ha' done, au' it's a Mae heart the dear 
 bairn's got to sleep on this night." 
 
 *' Let's go to him, Marmaduke," said Clara, 
 and she led the wa}- to a room where Birdjt'ute 
 lay, on a little white bed under the window, to 
 which, in the early morning, the birds that ho 
 coaxed with crumbs came and awoke him with 
 their singing. lie ha<l not tiied to sleep, and 
 the tears that he had manfully kc])t back while 
 there was anybody to see them, had tlowed abun- 
 dantly since he was left alone with iiis j^ain and 
 his grieved thoughts; but, when he heard his 
 mother's light foot approaching, he wiped them 
 away, and in the indistinct twilight she did iio't 
 see that he had been crying. She sat down on 
 the bedside, put her arms about him, and kissed 
 him tenderly. " Did my darling think he was 
 forgotten?'' said she, in a caressing whisper. 
 "My brave, good boy, who saved his fuiher's 
 ^life!" 
 ^ "Is he going to stay with us, mother^" asked 
 Birdyfute, eyeing with an ill-defined t^ensation of 
 fear, the tall figure leaning against the wall at
 
 IIAWKSVIEAV. 91 
 
 the foot of Ills bed. He could not forget tlio 
 meeting of his parents ; and it had destroyed his 
 k>ug-cherislied ilhision of anticipated deliglit in 
 his father's coining home. At liis question, Janet, 
 who had followed her mistress in, exclaimed with 
 gruff displeasure, " I suld like to knaw where we 
 are to lodge him, if he does ! He'll ha' to go 
 back to Whitmouth." 
 
 " I shall take you all away to Hawksview very 
 soon, Birdyfute — to Hawksview, where you were 
 born," said the Captain. 
 
 " There'll be twa words to say to that bargain," 
 muttered Janet. 
 
 "■ You liave come from ■ Hawksview, Marma- 
 duke. What does the old place look like? It 
 was so bonnie !" said his wife. 
 
 "It looks like a wilderness — ^lost and over- 
 grown ; but M'e shall soon change all that." 
 
 "We were very happy there, dear, once " 
 
 "We shall be very happy there again, Clara." 
 
 "Is the sea at Ilaw^ksview, mother?" asked 
 the child, who did not lose a word of what either 
 spoke. 
 
 "No, Birdyfute; but there are great moors 
 and thick woods, such as we have not here, and 
 whicli are very beautiful. You will like it quite 
 as well as Cliffend." Birdyfute gazed sorrow^- 
 fully out of the tiny casement, but said no more.
 
 92 HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 Tliis beginning of changes did not approve itself 
 to liis fancy. To leave the sea, the aliiin mines 
 and the qnarrit'S, "Willie Sleigh, and all his old 
 playfellows ; to have his mother no more wholly 
 his own ; to see old Janet angry, and that dark, 
 severe ligure always looming in the foreground 
 of home, made in his mind a nightmare of con- 
 fused, unpleasant feelings. He put his liand up 
 round his mother's neck, drew her ear down to 
 his moutli, and wliispered, " Mother, are you 
 qiiite glad that he has come homo?" 
 
 She closed his lips with a kiss, and replied in 
 the same tone, " Yes, dearest, I have never been 
 so glad since you were born." 
 
 This secret confidence between them annoyed 
 Cai)tain Vceicey. He already foresaw in tlie boy 
 an antagonist, whose devotedness to his mother 
 w<^uld incline her alwaN's toward him ; but he 
 was too politic to make this apparent. lie feign- 
 ed not to observe the whisper; and said, with an 
 air of gracious complaisance, " Birdyfute, you 
 must spare your mother to me now ; to-morrow 
 shall be yours " 
 
 " She can go," replied the child, and he furnod 
 his face to the wall. Clara stO(»ped down over 
 hinj, and pressed her lips to his cheek longer and 
 more warmly than usual. " Have y«»u said your 
 prayers, darling? You must thank God for
 
 IIA^\'KSVIK^v. 93 
 
 sending us your father safe liomo ; don't forget ;"• 
 and without waiting for any answer, she laid her 
 liand in that which her husband offered, and left 
 the room with him. Birdyfute could not sleep 
 because of his aching foot, which she had never 
 thought of, and for long after he had heard them 
 walking to an fro in the garden. Quite late when 
 the moon was risen, and it was almost as light as 
 day, he looked out of his little window, and saw 
 them standing together by the gate clasped in 
 each other's arms. After a few moments of ling- 
 ering endearment they separated : Captain Yes- 
 cey walked swiftly away up the path which led 
 along the tops of the cliffs to Whitmouth, and 
 Clara, when he was lost to her view, re-entered 
 the cottaire.
 
 94 lIAWKSVIKVr. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Janet, whenever her mistress turned, fallowed 
 her like a spy. " lie's gane at last. It's an ill- 
 M-ind has blown him home again,'' said she, in an 
 angry, muttering tone. Clara heard, hut did not 
 heed; she went np to Birdyfnte's room, and the 
 old servant pursued her, as if she could not bear 
 her to go out of her sight. " I want to know what 
 you are going to do about this ]>uir bairn's 
 father?" she began, coming close uj) to her. 
 '' Are you going back to live with him f 
 
 " Why do you ask such a question, Janet ? 
 What have we all prayed for and hoped for these 
 ten years, if not for his return ?" 
 
 "It was that you might ha' your good name 
 again, and no ha' to hide out i' honest folk's sight ; 
 and that the bonnie brave bairn sidd get his 
 rigiits as his father's lawfu' sou. I prayed for 
 naught mair, none I." 
 
 Clara sat down by tlie window, and folded her 
 hands on her lap. Janet might have Ecolded on
 
 HAWKSVIEAV. 95 
 
 for ever without provoking a retort, she was so 
 very happy. "It was I who was to blame — I 
 who failed in my duty, Janet; but he forgives 
 me," said she. . 
 
 " What fule's talk is this ?" exclaimed the old 
 servant, in a high-pitched discordant voice; "let 
 him own you and go his way. AVhy has he come 
 at all ?• what is he scheming ? I know there's 
 some deep laid plot i' hand. It's not for nothing 
 he's claiming you. "VYae's me ! but sorrow will fall 
 on you yet, Chira! Ye war ever a held strangbairn !" 
 
 " Am I iiot liis wife, Janet? And ought we not 
 for Birdyfute's sake to be re-united ? That will 
 silence evil tongues. If we had not left Hawks- 
 view long ago, we should have been acknow- 
 ledged. We ought to have stayed — it was our 
 place." 
 
 " Wha' believes that but you? If you had 
 not left Hawksview, your proud heart would 
 have harried you into your grave lang sin'. 
 There was nae God's blessing on you when you 
 cam' together, and strife '11 sunder ye yet!" 
 
 " Ko Janet, no ! he always loved me; he never 
 intended to abandon us. Tlie blame of our sep- 
 aration was all my own." 
 
 " Was it your blame he went away cursing? 
 Was it your blame he sent nae Avord in your 
 trouble, was it?"
 
 96 nAWKSVIKW. 
 
 "Give up railing, dear Janet, and tliink of 
 Birdyfiuo. If I was wronged, the wrong is my 
 own, and I can and will forgive it." 
 
 " Ave, bnry it deo}) down, and stamp on it wi' 
 foririves and forgets; bnt it wiil rise up to him 
 again ! Oh! Clara, ponder it well," she continued, 
 sinking her sharp tone to one of trembling en- 
 treaty. "Wha's been truer to you thai^ Janet? 
 and she warns you not to gi'e youi-self ower to 
 him tied hand and fate. Stay till you pee what he 
 wants. It's some gain to himscl', I know. He 
 did nae look at you like a true liusband come 
 home ; but as eager as if he had found his prey. 
 I watched his cruel eyes; and remember, Clara, 
 my puir bairn, how he left you. O! it's not a 
 kiss and a soft word note suld make you forget 
 
 "Are you a Christian woman, Janet Saunders, 
 that would preach such wicked, unforgiving 
 enmity ?" 
 
 "I'm a Christian woman that wadna' ha' a 
 corbie-craw in my doo's nest. If you go back 
 to him now you'll rue it long ere the day you 
 come to die. He mav ill-use that l)rave baini 
 that never has he seen till this night. lie may 
 leave you your lane, and waste t' bit money t' 
 auld rector gave to bring him up." 
 
 " Janet, I will not listen to you any more J"
 
 HAVVKSVIEW. 97 
 
 exclaimed Clara, hotly. " Let me be ! My love 
 is my love still, and you cannot divide us. He 
 is my own dear husband, and not the heartless 
 monster you would try to make me think." 
 
 " But you sal listen to me, Chira ! Nay, stop 
 your ears if you will, but you sal hear nie. You 
 are wilfu' selfish, to let t' bairn into his father's 
 hands. If it was only you, wad I stand again' 
 your will ? Nay, I wad e'en let yon sup the bitter 
 drink you ha' brewed. But it's for Birdyfute, the 
 bairn, that can't plead for himsel', I speak. 
 Where are your ain kin? They will uphold you 
 if you prove you are a lawfu' wife, and not the 
 thing they feared." 
 
 "I want nothing from them, Janet, or from 
 you, or from any one," replied Clara, proudly, 
 but with a sinking at the heart caused by the old 
 servant's reiterated warnings. " I can trust Mar- 
 mad uke if you cannot, and Birdyfute is always 
 safe with me." 
 
 " Neither he nor j-ou will be safe once he has 
 you in his grip. There's nothing sae strong or 
 remorseless as a bad man and the law. But if 
 you will go to him, go — there's may be your fate 
 in it." 
 
 " Since you speak of the law^ Janet, perhaps 
 you know that any day, without asking my leave, 
 or consulting me at all, his father can take Birdy- 
 
 >*% it
 
 98 IIAWKSVIKW. 
 
 * fiite away from nic if lie likes, and I couLl not 
 help myself. It is well, then, is it not, that I can 
 go without violenee to my feelings, for I do think 
 lie means us fair, Janet," 
 
 Janet seemed confounded, and was silent for 
 several minutes: " Well, there is a fate in it," 
 ^aid she at length, with a great sigh. 
 
 Clara told her how Birdyfute and his father 
 liad met : " And surely he will love his child 
 who saved his life," she added, coniidentlj'. 
 
 " He'll never love anything but himself," re- 
 turned Janet, doggedly ; my heart goes sarcly 
 against him, and aye will." 
 
 Birdyfute awake in his bed, heard every word 
 of this dispute, and when Janet at last departed, 
 he called his mother to his side and asked her 
 what it meant. " My darling, you should not 
 havejistened," replied she. "You must forget 
 what Janet said; she is angry and prejudiced 
 sometimes. You will try to love and honor your 
 father as your best friend, won't you, Birdyfute? 
 Promise me dearest." 
 
 " Not if he is cruel to yo\i, mother. No, I 
 would hate him — I should wish that the tide had 
 dashed him to death against the rocks," cried 
 Birdyfute with vehemence. Clara laid her hand 
 \i]H)n his lij)8, and bade him hush ; and then, to 
 check any further expression of violent feeling
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 99 
 
 she left him to himself; but she sat long by the 
 window, gazing out into the still, moonlit night, 
 and trying dispassionately to comprehend the 
 several bearings of this great crisis in her life. 
 
 Janet's faithful remonstrances had not been 
 without their effect. They had lowered the tem- 
 perature of her joy, as cold east winds blowing 
 over a gleamy May-day freeze the buds of spring, 
 but without altering in any measure her deter- 
 mination to return to her husband. After what 
 had passed between them that evening, she felt it 
 would be impossible to draw back, even if she 
 desired it — their terms were already made. They 
 had parted with an embrace — she could not meet 
 him on the morrow with quibbles, reproaches, and 
 interrogatories. If he had done her a great 
 wrong once, so much the greater should his love 
 be now by reason of her forgiveness ; and if, as 
 her love and her pride preferred to think, she was 
 the aggressor, by her intemperate haste and suspi- 
 cion, in quitting the shelter her husband had pro- 
 vided for her in his absence abroad, it behoved 
 her, with all meekness and humility to accept 
 the opportunity he gave her of returning to her 
 allegiance. Every point she thought of relating 
 to the present was in his favor. He had sought 
 anxiously to discover her retreat; and Providence 
 had brought his own son to his rescue in a
 
 100 llAWK.SVIliW. 
 
 inoinent of inunincut pcM-il, and thus led Iiiiii back 
 to her. So lleaven — Fate, Janet called it — 
 ■ 6eeined to will their re-union. Love also was on 
 liis side ; and duty, either real or imaginary, per- 
 suaded her that for Birdy fate's sake, if for nothing 
 else, a reconciliation was desirable. As for the 
 
 ♦ boy being oppressed, the suggestion was out- 
 rageous. Why should her husband have re- 
 claimed them after all that interval, if it was not 
 to give them his protecting care, she reflected, 
 lie had found them in the liumblest position, 
 when they were incapable of taking their rights 
 by the strong hand if it had still been liis desire 
 
 \t to withhold them, yet he had immediately, on the 
 questions being raised, proclaimed, " You are my 
 wife, and Birdyfute is my son, before all the 
 world." 
 
 After ten years spent in a seclusion, shaded by 
 the indefinable shame and burden of a false 
 position such as hers, it was an inexpressible 
 relief to escape, as it were, once more into the 
 free daylight of fair repute, and to see her child 
 restored to his rightful place. She had been 
 wounded in her affections by her husband's deser- 
 tion, but slie had Iteen wounded in her pride no 
 less. What she might exj)erience wlien the real 
 catise of his anxiety to recover her transpired, was 
 yet to be*proved. Jlis policy it was to conceal
 
 HAWKSVIEW. lUl 
 
 it from her until accident or necessity revealed it, 
 and that would not be until he had had amj)le 
 time to work his potent spell of love and kind- 
 ness, and to reduce her once more under his ab- 
 solute rule and guidance.
 
 102 IIAWKSVIEW 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The regular, undisturbed life that Clara had 
 led so long at Clifiend, had preserved to her all 
 the fresh grace of youth, while the enduring 
 sorrow, which she could never wholly forget, 
 had tinctured her air and uiaTuicr Mith a gentle, 
 refined melancholy; a melancholy that added 
 depth to her lustrous eyes, and a soft beiiignfty 
 to her smile. J^s, a girl she hafl been brilliantly 
 beautiful and gay ; but now she had the graver, 
 sweeter charms of a ripe womanhood, and the 
 loveliness which shines forth from a purified 
 s])irit. AV^hen Janet came to her in the morning, 
 she was irresistibly struck by the change a night 
 of happy thoughts had made in her countenance. 
 Her weariness and ])atient languor were gf^ue; 
 she had a soft, sprightly air — her voice was 
 quicker — her smile moie frequent. She luid 
 taken ])ains with her dress; she had arranf>-ed 
 licr rich, golden hair in the wavy braids tliat 
 her husband used to admire; and she looked,
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 103 
 
 when he came suddenly npon her through the 
 trees of the little garden, more winning and 
 beautiful than on that ill-starred evening so 
 many years ago, when they lirst met, and fell 
 in love. 
 
 " You must not ask me to leave you any 
 more, Clara," said the Captain, with eager, sur- 
 prised admiration. " I shall take you away with 
 me to-day, unless you will let me abide at Cliif- 
 end, my beautiful darling!" 
 
 Clara blushed and palpitated with happiness 
 — he loved her still, she was sure he loved 
 her. " Birdvfute, cannot be moved yet — he is 
 in here Ij'ing on the couch," said she, softly ; 
 and pausing at the window, she called to him : 
 "Birdyfnte, your father is come again — have 
 yon nothing to say to him ?" 
 
 The child had taken counsel with himself, and 
 intended to try to please his mother by loving 
 the grim Captain, his father, and said, " Yes, tell 
 him not to forget his promise of a story about his 
 battles ; I want to hear him talk." 
 
 " And so you shall, my boy ; only first let 
 me make some arrangements about leaving this 
 place. Wlien do you think you shall be able 
 to move ? Not yet, from that wry face ! Next 
 week, perhaps?" Birdyfnte was silent. "Well 
 if not then, you shall stay with Janet, and help
 
 10-i IIAWKSVIEW. 
 
 her to pack up, while I and your mother go to 
 make ready for your reception at Ilawksview — 
 is that agreealtle f' 
 
 This proposition in reality dismayed both Clara 
 and the boy. They had never before been sep- 
 arated, even for a single day ; and Clara imme- 
 diately negatived it. "Xo, Marmaduke, dear, 
 that will not do," said she ; "I cannot leave him 
 for the first time, now that he is so helpless. 1 
 have never left him before." 
 
 Captain Vescey did not press the subject then ; 
 but afterward, when they were alone, and beyond 
 the range of 13irdyfute's wistful eyes, he brought 
 aU the force of his eloquence to bear upon his 
 love for her, and easily moulded her to consent 
 to his plans. Janet^ received orders to arrange 
 a few of her mistress's clothes for an immediale 
 dejiarture. 
 
 "And the bairn is to go, too?" said the old 
 servant imperatively. " You will never liave 
 the heart to forsake hiin, Clara ?" 
 
 " lie cannot travel, Janet. You must see it is 
 impossible; but I must go to-da^', for my husband 
 insists upon it," was the confused reply. 
 
 Janet did not trust herself to say another 
 word ; she went angrily away, and did what 
 ehe wafi bidden, only taking care to keep away 
 out or Birdyfute's sight. "While Clara was dress-
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 105 
 
 ing for her journey, Captain Yescey beguiled 
 his son's attention by the recital of one of the 
 promised stories, and they had just established 
 a good understanding together when she ap- 
 peared. 
 
 " Where are you going, mother ?" the boy 
 immediately demanded, flushing crimson. " Are 
 you going away from us V^ 
 
 " Only for a little while, my own darling," 
 replied she, kissing him fondly ; " Janet will take 
 care of you, and bring you to me very soon." 
 
 Birdyfute pushed hei- face aside; and, before 
 the threatened storm of tears and entreaties had 
 time to break forth. Captain Yescey took his 
 wife's hand, and with some urgency drew her 
 from the room. " O Marmaduke ! this is not 
 kind to my poor boy," remonstrated she. " I 
 don't think it is right to leave him — " but he 
 hurried her into a carriage that waited in the 
 lane, and they were driven rapidly off toward 
 Whitmouth. The thought of her child thus 
 deprived of her comforting presence, when he 
 most needed it, j)^^i'sued her through the day, 
 and scarcely all her husband's assiduities could 
 calm her. She feared he would grieve after 
 her until he made himself ill; and true it is 
 that Birdyfute did grieve; but he grieved and 
 raged alternately ; ragiid, too, with such angry
 
 106 • HAWKSVIKW. 
 
 vehemence, tliat Janet, sorely against lier feel- 
 ings, was obliged to bid him " whisht:" for, after 
 all, if his father wished to take his mother away, 
 and she did not object, he had a right to do so, 
 that uobody else could deny. 
 
 "' And you must not look to be all you ha' been 
 toiler," added the old servant, gravely. "She 
 will ha' to take thought for two o' you now ; 
 but you"!! be sure to be kind and 'bedient to 
 her, for she may ha' muckle ill to thole, Birdy- 
 fute." 
 
 "Oh! Janet, I wish I were old enough to 
 be a soldier now !" replied the boy, twisting rest- 
 lessly on his uneasy bed. 
 
 "Be patient and you'll get your will; but 
 never hurry about it, lest you suld be contraried. 
 Now, I'll reach you down t' great history-book, 
 and you read while I see about my work. If 
 the minister suld come by, just you ca' him in 
 to hear t' news ; t' auld man '11 be fain to knaw 
 your father's come home, for he aye said you 
 would be spoilt among nothing but womankind." 
 
 T\ni history-book was, however, particularly 
 dry that day ; and Birdyfute soon* tired of it. 
 and of his couch too. Tiie unnatural durance was 
 all the more burdensome that he had no company 
 to cheer him. But about noon came the vicar 
 who had been Clara's only frii nd in her seclusion.
 
 HAWKS VIEW. • 107 
 
 and that pleased the boy. He had heard from 
 Jemniie Crossthwaite of Captain Vescey's peril- 
 ous rescue, and had himself seen the carriaf^e 
 drive off that morning. Janet came in to tell 
 him what had occurred ; but she now spared her 
 comments, and confined herself to facts. The 
 vicar was a fine, frank-faced old gentleman ; but 
 his brow clouded over as he listened. "When the 
 recital was ended, however, he spoke cheerfully 
 to the child, saying, "Kever mind, my little 
 man, they will think of you by and bye ; it is 
 like a new marriage, after such a long separation. 
 And when does your mother come back, Birdy- 
 fute?" 
 
 Birdyfute did not know; but Janet volunteered 
 a statement that they were all going away from 
 Cliffend for good very soon ; but her mistress 
 was to write and tell them when. The vicar 
 said he hoped she would not forget old friends ; 
 and having chatted pleasantly witli Birdyfuta for 
 half an hour, he left, promising him a new book, 
 and another visit in the evening. 
 
 But the summons for Janet and her charge 
 did not come until three monotonous weeks had 
 dragged through their slow length. Captain Yes- 
 cey and his wife went to Scotland, proved their 
 marriage to her brother's satisfaction, rejected 
 overtures of reconcilement with her family, and
 
 108 • nAWKSVIEW. 
 
 tlien went to London for a fortnight. There they 
 would probably have remained longer ; but Clara 
 became so urgent about her boy, that her husband 
 consented to return to IlawUsview, and there 
 Janet aijd Birdyfute joined them the day after 
 their arrival.
 
 iiAWKSvii:w. 109 
 
 CHAPTER XII. ^"^ 
 
 " OsTTHE DoBBiE miist descend fi-om her tripod 
 to the level of ordinary mortals ; Captain Yescey 
 has found his wife," Eli Burton announced one 
 evening as he entered the rectory parlor, after 
 smokino: his cifirar in the elm-tree walk. Roger 
 Pohun looked np from his book, and Agnes 
 dropped her work to listen. "And not only 
 found her and his son ; but he is bringing them 
 to Hawksview immediately," added the news- 
 monger. " Osythe Dobbie herself was my in- 
 formant." 
 
 " Then, there is an end of our romance !" 
 exclaimed Agnes. 
 
 " Say, rather a bewildering crisis in it. Surely 
 your interest will not fail at this first act in the 
 drama?" said Roger, archly. 
 
 "Perhaps it may endure until I see her; but 
 I think she has been too forgiving, don't you, 
 Roger?" Roger declined pledging himself to an 
 opinion, and Eli was equally cautious ; tliey would
 
 110 IIAWKSVIKW. 
 
 both wait for an oiiportuiiity of judging by per- 
 sonal ol)servation. 
 
 . The said opportunity was not long wanting. 
 On the Sunday following their arrival at Hawks- 
 view, Captain Vescey appeared at Boscombe 
 church with his wife and son. They came in 
 very late, and their entrance in the middle of the 
 psalms, drew all eyes upon them. The Captain 
 stared round in every face as if defying scrutiny, 
 and caused many an inquisitive gaze to droop 
 abashed before his own, but Clara never looked 
 up. She was flushed and agitated, and Agnes 
 saw that siie held her little boy by the hand all 
 the time. As for Birdyfute, he was as bold-e^'ed 
 and handsome as a fairy-tale prince ; his brown 
 face, dark waved hair, and bright honest glance, 
 won him admiration from all, even while thejj 
 acknowledged his strong resemblance to his 
 father. He was, however, shockingly irreverent 
 and inattentive to tlie service, lie talked in loud 
 whispers to his mother, pointed at the monuments 
 on which he read his own name, as borne by gen- 
 erations of his ancestors for centuries back, 
 laughed when the flute and clarionet tuned nj) in 
 the gallery, and generally misconducted himself, 
 for which Janet afterward read him a sei'ious 
 lecture, and which caused Agnes to fear that he 
 had been but ill-brought up. But Birdyfute
 
 HAWKSVIEW. Ill 
 
 Avas, like other boys, full of life and spirit, quite 
 incapable of being still long together, especially 
 in a strange place, and perhaps his wits did not 
 wander more that morning than those of other 
 people, whose opportunities of knowing better 
 had been twice and thrice as long. 
 
 "When the congregation quitted the church, 
 Birdyfute was in a great fuss to escape, and got 
 out some minutes before his father and mother, 
 who, when they appeared in the porch, could 
 not see him anywhere. The fact was, he had 
 mistaken the gate into the rectory garden for 
 that on the road home, and had rushed through 
 it after Jenny, who, grinned, but said nothing. 
 Captain Vescey and Clara were looking up the 
 paddock to see if he had gone that way, and 
 Birdyfute himself, having discovered his mistake, 
 was just dashing back to them, when Roger, 
 Agnes and Eli Burton issued from the church 
 door. An introduction was unavoidable, and, 
 perhaps, was less awkward under such circum- 
 stances, than it would have been if formally ar- 
 ranged. The eyes of the two mothers met, and 
 there was a sympathetic goodness in the hearts of 
 both, which instantly disposed them to friendliness. 
 
 AVhiie the Captain talked a few moments aside 
 with the curate, they exchanged half a dozen 
 simple remarks about Birdyfute, who fixed his
 
 112 nA-vrKSTiEW. 
 
 ^reat eyes on Agnes as if lie -were tliinking her 
 wonderfully beautiful. When the two parties 
 separated, Eli Burton was vitv proin])t with his 
 comments on Clara. '' She looks as little of the 
 neglected wife as any woman need wish to do," 
 said he ; " we have been making an ogre out of 
 an innocent man. She looks as happy as an 
 empress, and the boy is a princely little fellow." 
 
 "Yes, we have been rather hasty in our judg- 
 ments," replied Agnes; "and I am glad we can 
 reverse it so promjitly." 
 
 " You two pronounce from the outside. I shall 
 reserve m}' verdict for six months," said Roger, 
 sagely. "She is a pretty creature, and I hope he 
 will use her well; but he did not speak of her 
 very tenderly a few weeks ago. You must cul- 
 tivate her Agnes.". 
 
 Agnes rej)lied that she M'ould. Boscombe had 
 not yet supplied her with a companionable person 
 of her own sex, and there was that in Clara's face 
 which promised pleasant acquaintanceshij). Tlieir 
 children would give them one interest, in com- 
 mon, she thought ; and as it was ]>robable ClaiM 
 would live very quietly at Ilawksview, she also 
 might feel the want of a friend, for there were 
 many persons in Astondale who inclined to re- 
 gaid her peculiar position with an eye of askance. 
 
 The whole neighborhood, as might naturally 
 
 ^
 
 KAWKSVIEW. 113 
 
 be expected, made itself exceedingly busy in the 
 affairs of the new comers; but all went well at 
 the old house on the hill for 'Some time, i^obod}', 
 M'ho did know it for a fact, could ever have 
 conceived that there was a shadow of a story 
 {fttached to its inhabitants. Captain Yescey 
 went out grouse shooting on the moors, and Clara 
 walked on the terrace, or rambled in the Avoods 
 with Birdyfute, who also had a pony, and rode 
 sometimes to Boothe, or elsewhere, with his 
 father. People called and left cards, and Clara 
 sent lier's by her husband, with the excuse that 
 having no carriage she could not return their 
 visits in person ; and this civility accomplished, 
 they thought as much as was necessary had been 
 done for a woman who had caused herself to be 
 
 talked about. Some few individuals elected 
 
 • 
 
 themselves into partisans, and condemned one 
 side or the other as their own private experience 
 prompted ; but the general voice, as is customary 
 in such cases, was against the wife. Her position, 
 in fact, was as anomalous as it could well be ; 
 she made no acquaintance, and no friends but 
 Agnes, whose voice was always in her favor when 
 she came under the harrow of public discussion. 
 The gentlemen liked Captain Yescey, and invited 
 him pretty frequently, at first with his wife, who 
 always declined, and afterward alone, lie had 
 
 Hk 
 
 Wi
 
 114 IIAWKS\Ti:W. 
 
 seen a great deal of stirring life in various plirts 
 of the world, was conversational, but not often 
 brilliant — too much cleverness would have been 
 more against iiini than downright dulness, for 
 then he would have outshone his company — a 
 capital sin in some forms of society. * 
 
 Birdyfute missed Willie Sleigh and his dther 
 adventurous play-fellows at Clitfend very much, 
 at first ; but, by and bye, when he had his pony — 
 and a gentleman gave him a fine setter pup to 
 bring up against the day when he should have a 
 gun to go out shooting with his father — the 
 interests of the new life increased, and he grew 
 reconciled to the change. From the very first 
 there had been a feeling of shyness, reserve or 
 jealousy, between the father and son ; but it did 
 not appear obviously to any one as yet. The 
 Captain told his stories of dangerous adventure 
 by field and fiood, and Bird^'fute listened with un- 
 wearied satisfaction ; but the lad never crept 
 confidingly to his father's side, never claimed his 
 help or interest in anything he was doing, or 
 seemed to expect more than the sometimes care- 
 less, or rough, or impatient civilities that he got. 
 And on his side, Cnptain Vescey never ofiered 
 liim a caress or a loving word; he much more 
 frequently bade liim go out to pla\', than en- 
 couraged him to stop indoors with himself and
 
 nMVKSviEW. 115 
 
 his mother; and he always seemed to find his 
 absence a relief, as if lie were a spy or a restraint 
 upon him. Birdjfute was quick enough to find 
 out that he was not wanted, and not loved by his 
 father ; both were, indeed, secretly conscious of 
 tUe cold distrust that lay between them, and both 
 tried — though for diff'erent reasons — to ignore it 
 and seem friendly and frank toward each other. 
 The lad's education was not much attended to, he 
 was no lover of books — dry books of study, that 
 is — and Clara found it much less easy to beguile 
 him to his tasks than formerly ; and she, never 
 willing to thwart him, lamented his idleness, 
 without having courage to enforce a change. As 
 for appealing to his father, that she could not 
 have done, for already an impalpable shadow 
 was creeping over her own faith in his kindness; 
 and she determined to consult Agnes Bohun, 
 who always showed a liking for the boy, as the 
 most trustworthy adviser she knew. She asked 
 if there were any clergyman in the vicinity who 
 would be likely to undertake his tuition ; and 
 Agnes having named the subject at home, there 
 was a council held with Eli Burton, the result of 
 which was, that the Honorable Roger Bohun, 
 perhaps not much to his inclination, turned peda- 
 gogue for a couple of hours daily ; an employ- 
 ment not very remunerative, but ^hicli succeed-
 
 IIG HAWKS VI KM'. 
 
 ed as well, if not better, than a speculation in 
 bees, ■\vbieh Agnes bad undertaken in emulation 
 of a certain French cure who labored, like the 
 Bosconibe curate, under some of the inconve- 
 niences of a narrow fortune. 
 
 Birdyfute rode down to the rectoiy by ni»e 
 o'clock in the morning, with his little bundle of 
 books strapped together and slung over his shoul- 
 der, too often — as it soon became evident from the 
 non preparation of his lessons — the strap being 
 only unbuckled in the curate's study. Roger 
 was a good deal puzzled with his pupil. Ho 
 told Agnes that a lad of more generous temper 
 or finer natural intelligence he had never seen ; 
 but that he either could nt)t, or would not, a[)ply 
 liiniBclf to overcoming even elementary dithcnlties. 
 Once or twice the curate was called from home 
 during the lesson, and then Agnes ofliciatcd as 
 his deputy ; Birdyfute rather ]>referred that he 
 should be sent for, as Agues and he were become 
 great friends together. The lad was good-na- 
 tm-ed to little Mona, which, of course, Avent to 
 Agnes's heart, though she did not quite approve 
 of his riding her round the paddock at full galloj). 
 Then Agnes had taken it into her head that he 
 was not very happy at home, which would have 
 made her kind and gentle to him, even had there 
 \n^n no other cause.
 
 IJAWKSVIEW. 117 
 
 It "vvas quite true that Birdjfute began by and 
 bye to have liis trials and troubles. The warm, 
 light summer evenings could not last for ever, 
 and Avhen it began to gloom early, he was obliged 
 to stay in doors much more than he had done. 
 The nights were his most uncomfortable time. 
 Let him be ever so still over his book, or in ever 
 so remote a corner of the room, his father's steel- 
 grey eye would keep working round in his direc- 
 tion, and soon the inevitable command came : 
 '' Birdyfute, it is time you were in bed ; say good- 
 night to your mother and go." Clara never 
 begged a reprieve ; she would lift np her face to 
 kiss him a!id smile, and answer his good night 
 cheerfully, as if it had always been their custom 
 to part so. She rarely came to see him in his bed 
 either, now; and when she did come, it was in 
 stealthy haste, to whisper urgently that he must 
 be a good boy and obedient, if she fancied she had 
 seen in him any sign of revolt. Yes, there was a 
 vast change beginning to pervade the life of 
 poor little Birdyfute ere the ^autumn was ended. 
 
 Clara could not but feel that her child was 
 being slowl^', yet surely weaned away from her, 
 although at this period she made no sign. When 
 Captain Vescey was out for the day — which hap- 
 pened occasionally — she would try to indemnify 
 him by returning to her old caressing ways, by
 
 118 nAWKSVIKW. 
 
 givinn; liiin liolidiiy from his Icpsons, and affording 
 liirn little indulgences that used to gratify him 
 furinerly. But Birdyfute's heart had closed 
 under the chill of neglect, and did not open freely 
 to single gleamy moments ; he learned to distrust 
 the affection that only dared to exhihit itself in 
 secret, and grew uneasy under its restless uncer- 
 tain manifestations. He liked to stay down at 
 the rectory with Agnes when his lessons were 
 done, and by degrees absented himself from home 
 as much as he could without provoking comment. 
 On wet days he would carry his books or tools 
 into the straw-chamber over the stable, and stay 
 there undisturbed for hours, while his mother, 
 perhaps, sat alone by the fireside, grown too shy 
 of her own child to seek his society, and yet 
 wearying, O ! how sadly ! for those old days of 
 love and unreserve, when they were poor and 
 sorrowful, but always, always in each other's 
 company. 
 
 Iler position became gradually more and more 
 isolated; she strove to blind herself to the knovt'- 
 ledge of it, but could not. First came the 
 shadow, then the harsh fact, and incidents mul- 
 ti})lying daily in proof of it. Ilir husband's brief 
 revival of passion waned again ; he was sometimes 
 cold,^ sometimes sarcastic, alm<»8t always caixlcss 
 and iudilferent. lie ceased to make any account
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 119 
 
 of lier will or wishes, which, it must be allowed, 
 slie never obtruded upon liiin; self-negation was 
 the part which she had voluntarily taken up as 
 her own, and in which he acquiesced as a matter 
 of course. She worshipped him, and he received 
 lier worship with a half-complacent, half con- 
 temptuous weariness, that all the while masked a 
 quietly developing process of tyranny. He dis- 
 couraged her visits to the rectory, and there was 
 no other friendly door open to her. On some 
 frivolous pretence he sent away faithful old 
 Janet Saunders, replacing her by a daughter of 
 Osytlic Dobbie, until at last Clara found herself 
 a prisoner by her own hearth, and alone in the 
 midst of home. 
 
 A woman of stronger or more vindictive charac- 
 ter would have rebelled at once, and have strug- 
 gled vehemently and continuously against this 
 systematic aggression ; but Clara did nothing 
 unless it were that she clenched her bonds by her 
 tame silence when she ought to have protested, if 
 not for her own sake, yet for her child's. I am 
 wrong when I say she did nothing ; she pleaded 
 against herself in her tyrant's favor ; blamed her- 
 self for wearying where she would fain have 
 pleased, and sometimes almost loathed her own 
 great beauty which was powerless to keep what it 
 bad won. Conscious of the yoke which would yet
 
 120 IIAWKSVIEW. 
 
 fret licr so grievously, she smiled, looked blvtlio 
 • aiid liapjiy ; flattered, caressed and studied her 
 iudiiyereiit husband, letting Birdyfute fall further 
 and further apart from her, until by and bye she 
 was forced to say within herself: "I have no 
 one who loves me! no one at all!" And it was 
 not easy to walk gaily over that hollow life, 
 while old Janet's warnings recurred hourly with 
 Btinsrinor and truthful bitterness. 
 
 At this season she learnt all the particulars of 
 the Avill under which she inherited the estate of 
 Otterbourne and the re^t of her godfather's pro- 
 perty ; and, despite the struggles of her pride, she 
 was compelled to draw certain cruelly mortifying 
 deductions therefrom. Captain Yescey was $;$■ 
 sparing of information to her as he could possibly 
 be, and when she would have inquired further 
 into the settlement and amount of her inheritance, 
 lie cut her short by saying, that it was useless to 
 harass her mind with the details of business that 
 she could never understand, and that she must 
 leave the management of everything to him. 
 lie took such a lofty stand in the matter, and" 
 dispensed with her interference so completely, 
 that foi" the moment, she was crushed ; but, when 
 the cajiability of reflection came back to her, she 
 reijistered in her own mind a vow, that, at what- 
 ever risk, she would keep Birdyfute's fortune
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 121 
 
 entire and unencumbered for him; yet, she 
 trembled to think what power she had given int.o 
 her husband's hands if he chose to use it ; and 
 regretted too late the having rejected the ad- 
 vances of her own people, and so cut herself off 
 from their support. 
 6 
 
 v<
 
 122 iiAWKsvii:\v', 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 One morning, about a tbrtniglit after Captain 
 Vesccy had found liiiusulf under the necessity of 
 letting Clara into the mysteries of her own 
 aflairs, lie came to her with a slip of written 
 parclanent in his hand, and said quite debonairely, 
 " Clara, I want your signature here. It is a mere 
 matter of form ; but I might as -well have it."^ 
 
 " "What is it for? Let me read it lirst," replied 
 she, stretching out a trembling hand, but trying 
 to feel courageous. 
 
 " Xonsense ; just put your name here," pointing 
 to the foot of the page. '' It is only about those 
 farms at Ottcrbourne, that I told you were to be 
 6old as soon as I cc^uld find a purchaser to give 
 uiy ])rice." 
 
 " But Marmaduke, they are Birdyfute's, and I 
 don't See why they should be sold," said she, 
 folding her hands. 
 
 ''They are absolutely i/tiut, as what is yours is 
 mine. They are not tied up by the entail; and
 
 HAWK8VIEW. 123 
 
 it is seltisli in you to desire to keep all for him. 
 It' you were dead to-morrow I should be a beggar." 
 Clara still hesitated. " Could you not make a 
 deed to have them for your life, and that aftez*- 
 ward they should go back to him ?" 
 
 "TVill you sign or wall you not? I can act 
 without your consent if you refuse ; but it looks 
 better to consult you about the disposal of pro- 
 perty bequeathed to you." Captain Vescey 
 seemed quite indifferent as to wliat course she 
 adopted ; but, after a pause, seeing that she still 
 deliberated, he added, " As you seem bent against 
 compliance, I shall liold myself free to act as I 
 thiidc fit, without going through the formality of 
 taking your opinion in future." 
 
 Clara, like most of her sex, was in realitj'- as 
 ■ ignorant as a child in all matters of business. 
 She looked up in her husband's face for a moment 
 or two ; and reading there nothing but a sullen 
 unconcern, she took up a pen and affixed her 
 signature to the deed, saying at the same time, 
 " Of course, Marmaduke I should like you to 
 have a provision in case I die before you ; but I 
 think it may be contrived without dismembering 
 Birdyfute's inheritance." 
 
 The Captain's countenance lightened, and he 
 replied, "I cannot endure to see your suspicions 
 of mc Clara ; do you think I would sacrifice my
 
 124 IIAWKBVIEW. 
 
 boy's interests?" Clara did not speak, but slie 
 tliouglit the more, Ilcr bnsband eyed lier darkly 
 for a nioiiieiit, and then folding up the deed with 
 a smile nf triuni})h, left her to herself. She had 
 ample time that day for the indulgence of her 
 own painful cogitations. Birdyfutc had ro. 
 treated into the plantations, and Captain Vescey 
 went out with his gun. It came on to rain in 
 the afternoon, and then she hoped the boy would 
 seek her iu the house ; but he did not. He took 
 refuge in the straw-chamber, and there fell asleep 
 over the travels of Rolando. It was quite dusk 
 when the Captain came in, and the fire was low, 
 or he would have seen a treacherous blush dveinrr 
 his wife's face, from chin to brow. She had just 
 been thinking that she would write and bespeak 
 her brother's kindness for her boy, and he startled 
 her in the guilty thought. She had a supersti- 
 tious fancy that he could read her thoughts, and 
 though, while there was nothing but love to i-ead, 
 she was not afraid of his power, since that morn- 
 ing there had cnme into her mind a ghastly 
 j)halanx of doul)ts, fears, and Ibres^hadowings, that 
 it would be ill for him to see. C)p]»res6i<in makes 
 hypocrites of the weak, so, dissembling Jicr con- 
 sternation, Clara turned to her husband with a 
 jdeasant greeting, asked what sport he had liad, 
 what friends he had met, and testified as much
 
 * « ft 
 
 UAWKaviKw. 125 
 
 clieerful interest as usual in what he had beeu 
 doing. He was agreeably siuprised ; for, since 
 the difference in the morning, he had prepared 
 himself for a chango in her affectionate de- 
 meanor. No such change, however, appeared ; 
 but this, so far from kindling in him any spark 
 ot" generous forbearance, only emboldened him at 
 once to initiate a project which had lately taken 
 shape and substance in his mind, and which, 
 he was well aware, his wife would disapjjrove of. 
 
 "Where is Birdyfutc?" he enquired, after a 
 searching glance round the room, that failed to 
 detect the boy lurking in his favorite corner. 
 Clara said she did not know ; perhaps he might 
 be in the woods, where he had spent the morning. 
 Just then a great plash of M'ind-driven rain smote 
 with a nielancholy sound against the windows, as 
 if reproaching her neglect, and ihe Captain in- 
 dulged in a sneer at her anxious maternal 
 solicitude. 
 
 " It is well that he is out, for I want to talk to 
 you about him," added lie, looking down on the 
 hearth, and avoiding his wife's eyes. " The lad 
 is becoming sullen and untractable, and I think 
 of sending him oft' to school." 
 
 " Oh ! no, Marmaduke ; he will do very well 
 with Mr. Bohun for a year or two, and then we 
 can consider about it," replied Clara, shivering
 
 126 IIAWKJJVIKW. 
 
 internullj, yet spealving in a careless manner, 
 as if tlie subject were not w<»rili a second thought. 
 " Perhaps when we leave liawksview, which I 
 Suppose we must soon do, we shall go within 
 reach of some school." 
 
 "Butl have no intention of leaving Hawks- 
 view. It suits me very well in most respects ; 
 and when I want change, London or Paris is tiic 
 place. I shall send Birdyfute either to Belgium 
 or German}', I have not decided which," 
 
 Clara bravely passed the matter over, dreading 
 to strenglhen by opposition what she wouhl not 
 entertain as fact. " But what will become of 
 Otterbourne if westay here f she asked. " It is a 
 beautiful old place. I was once there when I was 
 a girl." It was just before her luckless marriage, 
 and she would have alluded to it ; but seeing his 
 louring look at her she was silent. 
 
 " Otterbourne is just let to an excellent tenant," 
 was his careless rejtly lo her question. 
 
 Clara's color rose loftily to her l)r()W. " I 
 ought to have been consulted, ^larmaduke," said 
 she, in a ])roud, hurt tone. " Why siioiild we live 
 in this miserable cottage when that beautiful i)laoo 
 is ours? I would much rather be at Otterbourne 
 than here." 
 
 " You did not speak of liawksview as a 'mis- 
 erable cottage' a few weeks ago," rejoined her
 
 HAWKSyiEW. 127 
 
 husband; and without vouchsafing her a single 
 word of explanation, he got up and went away to 
 dress for dinner. 
 
 Clara shuddered as if a sleety shower had fallen 
 on her burning heart, and a few tears of passion 
 oozed from her reluctant eyes ; but she dashed 
 them away quickly as Birdj'^fute came into the 
 room. It was some comfort to draw him to her 
 arms, and not be repulsed. The boy heard from 
 her voice, and saw from her flushed cheeks, that 
 something ailed her, and asked what it was. She 
 kissed him, and played with his curls in an eager, 
 half-conscious way, and then whispered, " O I- 
 Bh-dyfute, you love me, don't you ?" but as the 
 Captain's step was heard approaching, she pushed 
 him away, and bade him hush. Birdyfute went 
 and hid himself behind the curtains which were 
 drawn over the windows, and stayed there until 
 lu's father called sharply to ask why he slunk 
 away as if he were afraid of being seen. He then 
 came forth reluctantly, and went to his mother's 
 side, as if for their mutual protection. The Cap- 
 tain was in a species of savage rage, which he 
 kept down with difficulty. " "What are you going 
 to conspire about now?" he demanded, angrilj-. 
 Neither made any reply ; but Clara's heart began 
 to beat very fast. She had a presentment of what 
 was going to happen, and involuntarily twined
 
 128 HAWKS VIEW. 
 
 licr arm about her boy's neck, wliile Birdyfute's 
 face crimsoned, and liis eyes glittered fiercely. 
 
 " AVIiy do you look like that ?'' cried his father. 
 i:v" Come here :•' 
 
 Clara tightened her hold, and jdeaded, "]N^o, 
 dear Marmadnke, no I he has done nothing 
 wrong I" but her hu!>band clutched the lad's arm, 
 dragged him from her, and gave him a blow that 
 struck him to the ground. For a second the child 
 lay stunned — then, quick as lightning, he sprang 
 up, rushed at his father, and with all his little 
 mi<;ht, struck him on the face. His mother 
 shrieked in terrified entreaty to stop him ; but 
 the Captain laughed sarcastically, and, hold- 
 ing him off, said : " You will be a brave man 
 some day, Birdyfute; but I must teach you filial 
 respect meanwhile, I find ;" and then he dragged 
 him struggling into the hall, and, having found 
 his horsewhip, administered a terrible chastise- 
 ment. Every stripe seemed to cut into Clara's 
 tender flesh ; but Birdyfute never uttered a cry 
 or shed a tear ; and when his father flimg him 
 violently away, he turned round with a ijlaziiig 
 glance, and said, "I wish. Oil wif>h the sea had 
 drowned you before you came home !'' 
 
 The Ca])tain seemed for an instant abashed ; 
 he laughed uneasily, and then bade him get out 
 of his sight. Birdyfute looked extremely inclined
 
 IIAWKSVIKW. 129 
 
 to spring again, but his raotlier wound licr arms 
 round him, and held him fast, tliough he strug- 
 gled to get tree, wliile her husband went into the 
 parlor, dashing to the door. Clara then induced 
 the child to come away to his room, and having 
 locked themselves in, she stayed there in the dark, 
 alternately crying over him and trying to soothe 
 him. The Captain came np by and bye, and told 
 her to go down stairs ; but she refused, and find- 
 ing the door fastened, he retreated, muttering 
 angrily. As for poor Birdyfute, his violence both 
 shocked and frightened her; she had never sus- 
 pected such a ciiaos of untamed passions in the 
 breast of her boy as that lirst fatal blow had 
 roused. Every nerve in his body seemed to tingle 
 with rage: "I hate my father!" said he, vehe- 
 mently; '"I hate him! If it were not for you, 
 mother, I would go back to Clitfend, and work in 
 the quari-ies, rather than stay here." She })rayed 
 him not to talk so wildly, and promised to take 
 care of him. " But you cannot," was his answer; 
 " he does not love either of us. Why did you let 
 Janet go ? He would not have struck me if she 
 had been here. She knew what he was, and 
 warned you, mother." 
 
 TlUB implied reproach was very cutting, but 
 Clara felt it was not undeserved. She had neg- 
 lected to assert her authority for her child
 
 130 HAWKSVIKAV. 
 
 hitherto, and it was hut natural that lie sliould 
 cease to trust her. She said notliinij, hut sat 
 listening to tlie dreary rain, and weei)iiig tears as 
 dreary. As Birdyfute's rage cooled, he l)cgan to 
 think of her, and a little to reproach himself for 
 having been unkind; hut he did not know how 
 to express the strange, uneonifortahlc feeling ; 
 and when Osythe presently arrived witli his sup- 
 per, and a message that his mother was to go 
 down to the Captain immediately, he let her 
 depart, and afterward cried liimself to sleep for 
 Very shame and J>it3'. Chira went into her hus- 
 band's presence proud and full of resentment. 
 ''It was very noble to revenge yourself on poor 
 Birdyfute, because I had vexed you, was it not, 
 Marinaduke ?" said she, with tears of anger and 
 contempt briniming her eyes. 
 
 He was rather ashamed of what he had done, 
 and attempted a palliation of it ; but he had drop- 
 ped tlie mask now, and she saw him as he was — 
 a grasping, unscrupulous, strong-lianded, cruel 
 tyrant, and she told him so, with bitter defiance. 
 Her blood was boiling then, and bubbled over in 
 irretrievable words. When it cooled, she saw 
 that her policy had been wrong. Craft would 
 liave served her better tlian violence; but she hall 
 declared war, and war she was to have.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 131 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 BiRDYFUTE rode do\vn to the rectory the follow- 
 ing morning earlier than usual. He did not wait 
 for bre:ikfast ; but, having begged a crust of bread 
 from Osythe, started without seeing either his 
 father or mother. Clara, from her window, 
 watched him go down the hill, and, coward-like, 
 was glad that the meeting between her husband 
 and son should be deferred another hour or two. 
 After breakfast, the Captain had his horse brouglit 
 round ; and, telling her not to expect him home 
 until the morrow, he rode off toward Boscombe. 
 Birdyfute was in the midst of his lessons, which 
 were but ill done that da}^, and the curate was 
 striving to make him comprehend some difficult 
 point, when Agnes opened the study door, and 
 said, " Roger, you are wanted." Out in the hall 
 she told hiin that Captain Yescey was come, and 
 wished to see him ; and entering the drawing- 
 room, he found his visitor standing on the rug, 
 with his back to the lire, and seeming to make the 
 whole room dark with his gloomy presence.
 
 i;^2 
 
 HAWKSVIIW. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Bolnin. "Whore is my 
 Bon ? I am come to take liim iVom yon," said lie, 
 abruptly ; and added, as the curate waited silently 
 further ex})lanation, " Yon see the lad is getting 
 ruined at home; so I think it well to tiansfer him 
 to Mr. Warrendar, at Boothe, until Christmas, 
 when I can take him abroad." 
 
 " To Mr. AVarrendar ? He has the reputation 
 of being extremely severe," observed Agnes, who 
 liad re-entered and heard the announccnient. " I 
 wonld not let him have a child of mine in his 
 power on any account." 
 
 " Birdyfute requires a strong liand over him 
 just now, and that is the reason I have selected 
 Mr. "Warrendar," replied the Ca]>tain loftily. 
 " He will soon bring him to his senses. I find 
 him headstrong and masterful bevond endurance, 
 and he must be broken in." 
 
 Agnes colored, and wonld have spoken agaiii ; 
 but Roger warne<l her by a glance not to inter- 
 fere, though he said himself, that he had liked 
 Birdyfute' because his temper was so generous 
 ana tractable, at the same tinte that he was foil 
 of boyish 8j)irit8 and intelligence. To this re- 
 mark the visitor offered no rejjly ; and the child 
 being brought in, was told his destination. He 
 Hushed, and bit his lip, and turned half round to 
 Agnes, as if to claim her protej^ion ; but, imme-
 
 1IA-\VKSVIKW. ■ 133 
 
 diately recovering himself, lie said, " Yery -well," 
 and stood firm. His father bade him go and bring 
 his pony from the stable, and, having shaken 
 hands with Roger, and kissed Agnes, he obeyed. 
 The Captain followed close upon his heels, as if 
 suspicions that he might try to give him the slip, 
 and being mounted, they rode away at a trot. 
 
 It was a dull morning, in the beginning of No- 
 vember, and, although it did not rain, the thick 
 dim mist was scarcely less penetrating. The trees 
 dropped their few leaves into the standing pools 
 left by last night's storms, and the melancholy 
 sob of the wind over the moors breathed like the 
 voice of winter desolation. It was a long ride 
 by a dreary road across Blore Heath ; up there 
 the rich slopes of Astondale could not be seen, 
 and few more lonely spots could be fonnd any 
 where than this barren, desolate track. For sev- 
 eral miles neither the Captain nor his son uttered 
 a word ; but at last Birdyfute found courage to 
 say : " Will you let somebody feed Random ?" 
 Random was the young setter before named. 
 •" Yes," replied*his father, and they both relapsed 
 into silence. In passing through a little village, 
 they heard the clock of the church strike one, 
 and that reminded Birdyfute that his mother 
 would perhaps be coming down Boscombe lane 
 to meet him, if she did not know wlicre he was
 
 1 r>4 HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 being taken, ■\vliich he strongly suspected. At 
 last he asked the question hluntly, "Does n)y 
 mother know wlTat you arc going to do with nie T' 
 to which his father replied, with equal plainness, 
 " No, she does not." The boy gulped down a 
 great sob ; and in the eyes that he kept steadily 
 turned aside the rest of the way, there arose, 
 whether he would or not, the hottest teai-s. IIo 
 ■was but a child — a child nurtured softl/next to 
 his mother's heart, and he knew that he was taken 
 from her for no good cause, but only to punish 
 her through him. "Oh ! when I am a man, then 
 I will take care of her I" thought he; for in his 
 unhappiness he remembered how fondly she had 
 loved him when they were only two, and his 
 father was still to be j)rayed for as one un- 
 known. 
 
 It was the market-day at Boothe ; but Avhen 
 they rode into the town about three o'clock, the 
 bii.-llii was nearly over, and the country }>eople 
 dispe^ed. ^Ir. Wai'rendar's house was one of 
 the largest in the jjlace, but it looked almost like 
 a jail or an asyhun with its dark painted shutters,* 
 and iron bars to the upper windows. " You will 
 have to fight your way here, I can tell you," 
 said Captain Vescey to his son as they rode U]) to 
 the door. Birdyfute glanced up and down the 
 fiont of the dreary prison-liouse, ^nd thought of
 
 IIAWKPYIKW. 135 
 
 ClifFend with its freedom and quiet affection, and 
 made answer with a savage earnestness tliat 
 caused his father to laugh heailily, " And I 
 will tight it ! If anybody strikes me, I strike 
 back." A monitory touch on the cheek wath the 
 Giptain's whip silenced him, as tli,e great door 
 creaked open. It did not seem to have turned on 
 its lunges for a week, and probably had not, as 
 Mr. Warrendar's pupils went in and out by the 
 play-ground entrance at the back of the building. 
 Mr. Warrendar, the servant said, was at home, 
 and would see them immediately ; and they were 
 conducted to the chilly, fireless, " company par- 
 lor," to await his appearance. He came at 
 length, a frousy man, wearing a limp white neck- 
 cloth, and ill-fitting rusty black clothes. His 
 countenance was harsh ; but he had an obsequious 
 untiring smile stereotyped upon his pendulous 
 lip, while his voice wavered unsteadily between 
 a growl and a croak. He had not a single 
 personal point to bespeak confidence, and little 
 Birdyfute immediately conceived a violent re- 
 pugnance to him. *■ 
 
 Captain Yescey's business needed little explana- 
 tion. He wished to place a pupil under Mr. 
 "Warrendar's charge, and there he was. 
 
 " A dependent relative ?" suggested the school- 
 master, mildly interested.
 
 13G IIAAVKSVIKW. 
 
 " Bv no means, lie is my only son — lieir to 
 Ilawksview, Ottcrbonnie and other property," 
 rej)lied the Ca'ttain, satirically. 
 
 Mr. "NVarrendar's amazed expression asked 
 almost as plainly as words could have done, 
 "Then, "why, do yon bring him here ?" and the 
 visitor rejdied to it, "lie is. rather turbulent 
 and rebellious at home ; but I am sure he will 
 soon become amenable to your well known 
 discipline." 
 
 The schoolmaster glanced at his new pupil, and 
 mentally registered a vow that never should 
 profane ferule of his descend on shouldei-s that 
 were heir to such estates. " I don't want any 
 nonsensical distinctions between him and liis 
 schoolmates," said the Cajjtain, plainly. "Let 
 him battle his way with the rc-.-^t — he will be all 
 the better for it." ^Ir. Warrauder acquiesced, 
 with a pious quotation, and promised to be quite 
 impartial; and then a few questions relative to 
 teru|p having been asked and answered, Captuiti 
 Ve>cey shook his son by the hand, gave him a 
 Miitence or two of advice, and tt>ok his departure. 
 Birdyfute's clothes were to be sent by the carrier 
 the next week; and, meanwhile, Mr. Warrendar 
 undertook to suj)ply his wants; the pet j)ony was 
 to stay at Boothe to be sold. 
 
 Birdyfute went to one of tlie windows to watch
 
 • IIAWKSVIEW. 137 
 
 his father ride away, and as soon as he was out 
 of sight, he addressed himself to the conditions 
 of the new life, by aiinonncing to Mr. Warrendar 
 that he had had no dinner, and was hungry. 
 Perhaps such an accost had never bet\)re been 
 received by that gentleman during tlie long 
 course of his scholastic experience. He did not, 
 liowever, betray his astonishment ; but, leaving 
 the new pupil in the company parlor alone, 
 sought his wife — an unpalatable looking counter- 
 part of himself — and bade her give certain 
 culinary delicacies that were reserved for their 
 own table to that favored young gentleman. To 
 bespeak her kindness, he told her to what lofty 
 destinies Birdyfute was born ; and she, being of 
 the same creeping, obsequious chai'acter as her 
 husband, readily complied with his wishes. 
 While the boy ate his dinner, she sat by, and 
 encouraged him with some fulsome flatteries; but 
 so unresponsive was he, that she afterward 
 suggested to Mr. "Warrendar that if he haf^ not 
 been what he was, his pride would want a good 
 deal of beating out of him. 
 
 At Hawksview, Clara passed a most dreary 
 day. She was not much surprised that Birdyfute 
 should not have come home at noon; but wiien 
 daylight waned, she grew uneas}-, and though a 
 drizzling rain was falling, she clad herself to go
 
 138 HAWKSVIKW. 
 
 down to the rectory and bring him back. 
 Arrived there, she found Agnes alone, and was 
 apprized in a few words of what liad liappened. 
 She had been far from anticipating such promjit 
 measures on her liusband's part, and the sliock 
 ahnost cruslied her. Without reflection, slie 
 began to reveal to Agnes the persecution she 
 enfhired and foresaw ; and asked wildly, could 
 nobody interfere between the child and his father? 
 Agnes said it was monstrous injustice to send the 
 boy to Mr. Warrendar's school, where his com- 
 panions were of the meanest class, and the educa- 
 tion of the worst, letting alone the severity of 
 the discipline there practised. As for the in- 
 iquity and cruelty of removing him secretly 
 from his mother — that she thought beyond com- 
 ment. 
 
 But what must I do? — where must I turn?" 
 exclaimed Clara, helj>le6.-ly, " I have no friend, 
 anywhere, and now I begin to see that my 
 husband is my worst eneni}-. Who will lielp 
 us?" Agnes promised that Roger should re- 
 monstrate with Cajitain Vescey; and suggested 
 that, perhaj)S, when the affair became generally 
 known, he wouhl lin<l himself so strongly con- 
 demned by public opinion, as to undo what he 
 had done. Clara shook her head, and began to 
 weep bitterly, and in the midst of her paroxysm
 
 HAWK8VIEW. 139 
 
 tlie curate came in. Plie immediately explained 
 her errand, and solicited his advice, -whicli he 
 frankly gave. 
 
 "Do nothing rashly," said he. Mr. AVarren- 
 dar knows liis oAvn interests too well ; and as he 
 is only to remain at Boothe till Christmas, there 
 will be little or no liann done. After that, 
 Captain Vescey spoke of sending him to school 
 abroad. Do not oppose his design, but take the 
 pain of separation as chiefly your own. Birdy- 
 fute will be better off tlian lie would be under a 
 capricious tyranny at home. Indeed, it is the 
 motive and the manner which make the sole 
 distinction between his case and otliers. Lads 
 get on ver}' happily at foreign schools. I was at 
 Mannheim myself for tliree years. It" I maj' pre- 
 sume to offer my own opinion, I should say that 
 it will be your best policy to let the little fellow 
 go peaceably." 
 
 " But is it not barbarons in liis father to act as 
 he has done, Roger?" cried Agnes, who, for 
 once, thought her husband too cold and unsym- 
 pathizing in Clara's misery. The curate made a 
 reply to the effect that, when any person is all- 
 powerful over the fate of another, it is more 
 politic to conciliate than to dvfy. The poor wife 
 nnderstood him, and said bitterly — 
 
 " You mean I must submit and be still ! Ah !
 
 140 HAWKS VIEW. 
 
 it is easy to advise that ; but if you knew what 
 Jjirdyfute is to mc " 
 
 "Ytm must have parted with liiin soon under 
 any eircunistances. He would have to go to 
 school at home, if not abroad ; and, as lie has 
 already elected to enter the army, the early and 
 thorough acquisition of modern languages will be 
 a positive advantage to him in his profession. 
 Every mother must bear these pangs of parting 
 from lier children.'' That was the light in which 
 Hoger Bohun chose to put the matter. Passion, 
 ill-treatment, hidden motives he waived alto- 
 gether. It was good for Birdyfute to go : it was 
 imperative on his mother not to oppose his going. 
 
 " If I were you I would no as Roger says," 
 M-hispered Agnes; "you know there will be 
 hcdidays and letters, and then as he grows up you 
 will nut need to fear for hifn ; you can make him 
 (juite indept'Tident of his father." But Clara 
 tliought of herself, and how lonely she should 
 be — how unprotected, when Birdyfute was gone; 
 and she felt as if the curate and his wife were 
 quite incapalde of entering into her position, 
 thoiierh both of them felt for her much more 
 acutely than it seemed judicious to express. " Oh!" 
 cried Aj^nes, when she was gone, "he is a cruel 
 wicked tyrant — worse even than I anticij)atcd I" 
 and Roger acquiesced this time without reserve.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 141 
 
 Captain Yescey did not return to Hawksview 
 on the morrow, as he had intimated to Clara was 
 his intention ; he traveled southward, and a few 
 days after wrote from London apprizing her of 
 what he had done, and bidding her reconeile 
 herself as best she could to the loss of her child's 
 society. She carried the letter down to the rec- 
 tory, and would have read it to Agnes, but she, 
 with a twinge of self-reproach at the unkindness 
 in act, if not in spirit, declined the confidence. 
 Clara was her senior by several years, but Agnes 
 had the clearer and firmer judgment. Roger^also 
 had prompted this course of conduct. 
 
 "Why will you not listen to me ? I thought I 
 had found a friend, said Clara, piteously. 
 
 " And so you have, dear," replied Agnes, with 
 eager warmth ; " but do not take even me into 
 the secrets of your home ; it will not lighten 
 your sorrows to blazon them to the world, and 
 when brighter days come you will regret it if 
 yon do." 
 
 " Brighter days ? There will be no more bright 
 days for me. Are yon mocking me ?" 
 
 " O ! no, I feel for you most deeply. We will 
 go over, Roger and I, and see Birdyfute, and 
 bring you word how he looks. Why should you 
 not go too ?" 
 
 " I am forbidden. But, what do I gain by
 
 142 HAMTCSVIKW. 
 
 obeying my husband, or wlmt do I lose by dis- 
 obeying him ? I will go." 
 
 AgiK'S WHS Surry n«»w tluit she h:id suggested 
 the expedition, and endeavored to waive it. 
 "There are but six weeks, and then he will 
 cume home for his holidays," said she. " Your go- 
 ing might unsettle the poor eliild : write instead." 
 
 "But it will do me good to see him; there is 
 time to-day, and 1 will start at once. I can hiro a 
 light cart at the Inn, and I will — yes, I will 
 bring him home again. I feel that I have a far, 
 far fetter right to him th:in his father has." This 
 sudden thought diverted lier grief for a moment; 
 but Agnes warned her gravely against venturing 
 on so hazardous a step. 
 
 " Do consider that Captain Vescey has un- 
 limited power over his son, let the right V»e whose 
 it may,*' she urged. " Your husband might again 
 remove him, and leave you in ignorance of where 
 he had taken him to. At all events, now you 
 know that he is within reach ; you could go to 
 him in the course of a few hours if he were ill, 
 which might not be the case elsewhere." 
 
 " You don't know how it would comfort me to 
 see him even for live minutes. Birdyfute and I 
 liave not been such good friends lately as we once 
 were," replied Clara, mournfully. " I should like 
 to tell him his mother does not forget him."
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 143 
 
 " Suppose we consult Koger, I am sure he 
 will know best — don't you think so, suggested 
 Agnes. "Let us ask hitn." 
 
 But the curate was not at home, so liis advice 
 could not be had, and the idea of delighting her 
 eyes with a sight of the child had taken such 
 strong possession of her imagination, that Clara 
 could not be prevailed on to delay its execution. 
 She set off in haste to the Inn, and Agnes pre- 
 sently saw her driven past in the s])ring cart 
 which took the landlord to market. Arrived at 
 Mr. Warrendar's, she was shown into the " com- 
 pany parlor," where, after keeping her waiting 
 nearly an hour, the schoolmaster came to her 
 himself, and begg§d to know her business. She 
 said siie desired to see her child who had been 
 brought there unknown to her, and against her 
 wishes. Without being positively insolent, Mr. 
 Warrendar explained, that he had that morning 
 received a letter from the boy's father, enjoining 
 him strictly to prevent any such interview if it 
 were attempted ; and that he held himself bound 
 to adhere to Captain Vescey's injunctions. This 
 cruel indignity roused Clara's pride to passion. 
 She protested vehemently against the wicked per- 
 secution of debarring a young child from his 
 mother's presence, declared that see liim she 
 would, and at last, weakened by her violent
 
 144: nAAVKSVIEAV. 
 
 emotion, tortured in lier love and her pride, and 
 bitterly disai>p()inted, she ijave way to tears. 
 I^Ir. AVarrendar was, however, niiieli too keenly 
 alive to his own interests to be moved to com- 
 plianee by wefi)inir; and, at length, tinding him 
 impervious to threats, bribes, and entreaties, the 
 unhappy mother was eonipelled to leave the 
 liouse. Adam Brown, at the Inn, told it after- 
 ward in the village, that as he drove her home, 
 she behaved like a crazed woman, laughing one 
 minute, and crying the next ; and tliat as they 
 passed Blorc Pool she tried to sjiring out of the 
 cart and get away, with the intention as he be- 
 lieved of throwing hei-self into the water. 
 
 After this public scandal, the whole country- 
 side entered into the quanel, and Captain A^es- 
 cey's barbarous treatment of his wife and child 
 was the theme of every tongue. Squire Brough 
 gave it as his opinion, that the Ca])tain had 
 bi'tter keep clear of Astondale i'oi- the future, as 
 everybody was prepared to give him the cold 
 shoulder. Clara met with sym])athy enough, 
 tlutugh sometimes even ]>ity was tinctured with 
 contempt. She poured the story of her griefs 
 niid her wrongs into every ear that was ready to 
 listen to it, until some few were, perhaps, inclined 
 to tind excuses for her Iiusbiind's ill-treatment in 
 liur weakness, in Agnes and Roger she had two 
 
 ^
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 145 
 
 constant friends and supporters ; but even they 
 could do little for one who was daily undermining 
 her own cause, and destroying the respect whicli 
 attends misfortunes borne with dignity and forti- 
 tude, by her unceasing clamor. Captain Vescey 
 did not come back to check by his presence the 
 spreading notoriety of his ill-conduct; his wife 
 heard from him occasionally, but she could not 
 longer be deceived by his fulsome expressions of 
 attachment. The time, he said, was long that 
 ke]3t him from her; but he had business in hand 
 which could not be got through so quickly as he 
 desired. Whenever he dilated upon his feelings 
 toward her, the letter invariably wound up with 
 an intimation that he was going to appropriate 
 such a sum from the Otterbourne rents, or that he 
 intended to seek a more more profitable invest- 
 ment for such and such stock, but that he would 
 give her fuller details when they met. Clara 
 tried to bribe him to withdraw the restrictions he 
 had laid on her and Birdyfute ; but, assuming a 
 virtuous indignation, he bade her understand that 
 he acted for his son's good in what he had done; 
 and as for their income, he did not acknowledge 
 her power either to give or withhold whatever he 
 chose to apply to his own purposes. Every such 
 letter, and every such intimation, rendered Clara 
 for a time furious, and she replied in the most
 
 140 IIA-SYKSVIEW. 
 
 iinconciliatory spirit. ISlie even proposed a 
 second separation; but tliis Captain Vescej de- 
 cidedly ret'ii.sod, saying that he had no qnarrel 
 against lier: tliat though she was passionate, 
 lieadstrong, and wilful, lie did not despair of her 
 awakening presently to a submissive sense of her 
 duty. lie professed even to count upon her love 
 for him — upon a love which was turned almost to 
 hate — and reminded her of the unalterable nature 
 of the tic that united them, as if he himself had 
 ever respected its sacredncss longer than selfish 
 passion proni])ted him. His sanctimonious pre- 
 tences galled her mure than all, Wn- they seemed 
 to place her in the wrong, and him in the lofty 
 position of a righteous husi)and, burdened with a 
 most contrary wife. Clara was determined that 
 hers should be no patient, silent martj-rdom. The 
 vehemence of conscious weakness is always noisy, 
 and hers proved no exception to the rule. She 
 had been a tender, loving woman once ; those ten 
 long years of desertion were borne not ill, but 
 they liad change<l her; the brief delusion she had 
 rushed into on her husl)and's return was like the 
 soft delirium of the opium eater, and the awaken- 
 ing from it was as pregnant with frightful 
 torments of mind and body. 
 
 Captain Vescey, while taking his jtleasnre in 
 London, had no suspicion of the fierce onslaught
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 147 
 
 tliat was being made on his character at home. 
 He had made up his mind that he had to deal 
 with a slave who could be cajoled one day and 
 coerced another, according to his good or ill will ; 
 and he had almost decided upon letting Birdyfute 
 go home for his holidays, when one of her most 
 violent letters reached him, and he changed his 
 intention. He would not be driven, lie resolved, 
 and he immediately wrote to Mr. Warrendar, 
 bidding him retain the boy at his house until he 
 claimed him in person ; having done which, that 
 the point and efficacy of the punishment might 
 not be lost, he sent Clara word by what means 
 she had deprived herself of the child's company 
 at Christmas. At this time she made a second 
 attempt to see him by going to Boothe and hang- 
 ing about the school all day, but again without 
 success.
 
 14S nAWKSVIKW. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 When Captain Yescey warned his son tliat he 
 would liave to light liis way at school, he used 
 no mere figure of speech. Birdyfute had literally 
 to light his way, and he fought it manfully. Mr. 
 Warrc'iular's favoritism raised him up a host of 
 eneinies amongst the rude race into wliich he was 
 suddenly plunged, and there scarcely passed a 
 day during which he had not to engage in one or 
 more pitched battles, in which he was sometimes 
 victorious and sometimes beaten. He had not 
 time to feel miserable or to pine after home, for 
 he was in a perpetual state of friction and excite- 
 ment that developed in him a wholesome and 
 hardy but not uimatural pugnacity. There was 
 no great scholarship amongst the rabble rout 
 of his companions, and the daily tasks exacted 
 M'ere not onerous : the food was coarse but 
 abundant also, though Birdyfute escaped its de- 
 grading infliction ; still there was nothing either' 
 to educe or maintain self-refipect, but everything
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 14:9 
 
 to foster the lower passions. As in Birdyfiite's 
 case, if a lad's parents Avere well off in the world, 
 or he had a tribe of young brothers at home, his 
 due allowance of punishment was portioned 
 amongst his less lucky comrades, and so invaria- 
 ble was this rule that, by the amount of flogging 
 a boy received, his social status might be very 
 nicely calculated. Birdyfute soon penetrated this 
 mystery of discipline; but so far from his own im- 
 punity inclining him favorably toward liis virtuous 
 preceptor, it only set him the more against him. 
 And when a truce with his fellows was pending, 
 he not unfrequently employed it in devising some 
 droll trick to be played off upon the master in 
 school. His ready wit, his frank audacity, and 
 his courage w^ould in time have made him the 
 little king of this community ; but the Christmas 
 holidays came, the lads dispersed and his good 
 genius decreed that he should see them no more. 
 Birdyfute watched one departure after another, 
 secretly longing for his own turn ; but finding 
 that it did not arrive, he asked Mr. Warrendar 
 when he was to go home, and received for answer 
 that it was his father's wish he should stay at 
 Booth e until he came for him. Birdyfute heard 
 this announcement with admirable coolness, and 
 went off to the plaj^ground to join those who were 
 in a similar predicament to himself, while Mrs.
 
 150 IIAWKSVIKW. 
 
 "Warrendar rated her husband for allowing hira- 
 eelf to be turned into a jailor, without first ascer- 
 taining at what rate of wages he was to hold the 
 honorable post. 
 
 Birdyfute was not like the same boy who had 
 left his mother's pining arms only a few weeks 
 ago ; he had not run the gauntlet of a great ill- 
 conducted school for nothing; he was prompt 
 with his fists on the smallest occasions ; his tears 
 had retreated further from his eyes, and his wits 
 were in good working order. No lad was oftener 
 out of bounds and more rarely detected in that 
 delinquency ; and now, on getting free of Mr. 
 AVarrendar's jjresence, after learning his fate for 
 the holidays, he made use of his speed and agility 
 t£> excellent purpose. lie was over the low part 
 of the play-ground wall and half way across Blore 
 Jleath long before it was discovered that he had 
 run away from school. It was a stinging cold 
 day, and early in the afternoon the snow began 
 to fall, but manfully forward marched the un- 
 daunted IVirdyfute. lie took many a good laugh 
 to liimself at thinking what would be the dismay 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Warrendar when his flight was 
 discovered at tea-time ; and then he began to con- 
 sider about his mother, and whether she would 
 be glad to have him home or nr»t, and to congrat- 
 ulate himself that his father was safe in London.
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 151 
 
 Agnes Mohiin — at the nursery window with 
 lady Mona watching the old woman up in the 
 sky plucking her geese, as the saying for a 
 snow-storm is amongst the juveniles — saw a little 
 dark figure toiling over the hill, and as he came 
 nearer recognised Birdyfute. She uttered a cry 
 of surprise and pleasure that brought Roger 
 from his dressing-room to see what was the 
 matter. 
 
 •' Look at that brave good boy, I do love him, 
 Koger !" exclaimed she, and the curate himself 
 was touched. Agnes rapped on the glass and 
 the child looked up, triumphantly waving his cap. 
 They seeuied so to understand each other — heart 
 spoke to heart as it were. 
 
 "The back's made for the burden," remarked 
 nurse Beste, with homely philosophy, as the bonny 
 brown face disappeared ; that bairn has gotten a 
 rare heavy one, but he's not likely to die under it, 
 God bless him, and so everybody thought. 
 
 AVhen Clara came back to Ilawksview, Aslon- 
 dale and her life both wore a garb of sunshiny 
 beauty ; but now they were dressed alike in 
 palest winter weeds. She had been writing a 
 long letter of mingled plaints and threats to her 
 husband, and as the afternoon darkened she laid 
 down her pen and sought the window. Twilight 
 was creeping slowly out of the woods and cloud-
 
 
 
 iug the cmp -whitunees of the cartli. All uas 
 very still, not a tw'v^ stirred. Sometinics, hut 
 very rarely, an imperceptihle motion in the 
 atmosphere sl||)ok down a miniature Bnovv-shower 
 from an overladen hram-h ; a hird uinged its 
 ewift way to the sliiniiii,' scarlet holly berries iu 
 the hedge, and a faint tinkling of Boscomhe 
 church hells floated np the valley, softly unreal 
 as the echoes of Christmas bells chimed long ago. 
 The moon rose early, and in the blue ether the 
 stars came ont one by one until the dit-tance was 
 lost in shimmering frosty haze, and the great 
 cedars on the terrace stf»od out like phantom 
 guardians of the niglit. The ash-logs and hr- 
 cones crackled and blazed cheerfully in the 
 grate. On tlie • hearth lay stretched asleep 
 Eandom who had been taken into great fav«»r 
 since Birdyfute went away ; and the warm crim- 
 son hangings and furniture of the room glowed 
 pleasantly in the firelight. Suddenly a distant 
 whistle was lieard, Kandom ])ricked up his ears, 
 listened, rose from the rug, shook himself, and 
 with a quick joyous bark ran to the door which 
 Clara oj)ened for him, and a^vay he went tearing 
 through the deep snow and barking vociferously. 
 Soon he returned, bounded over the gate as he 
 liad done in leaving the garden, and then stood 
 still, his head on one side, and flourishing his
 
 HAWKSVIEAV. 153 
 
 tail with delight and impatience. Clara went to 
 call him in oat of the cold, and just as she got to 
 the porch wearj little Birdjfute appeared at the 
 gate. "Here I am, mother," cri^d he; "I was 
 determined they should not keep me." Clara 
 clasped him in her arms, and half tearful, half 
 laughing, kissed his frosty cheeks again and 
 again, asking, "How did you come, my darling!" 
 
 " Walked all the way, mother. I've run away 
 from school!" was the sturdy reply. 
 
 "My boy! you might have been lost in the 
 snow on that dreadful moor, I am glad ; but, 
 love, what will your father say ?" 
 
 " If you are glad I don't care what he says. 
 I am never going to obey him again, that I do 
 know," Birdyfute announced ; and being come 
 into the warm bright parlor, he let his mother 
 seat him in her own chair by the fire, and 
 kneeling before him, chafe his stiffened hands, 
 while the melting snow dripped from his clothing 
 in tiny rills. 
 
 " Mr. "VVarrendar will write to your father, 
 Birdyfute; what shall we do by and bye?" said 
 Clara, ♦whosejo}'' was poisoned by the thought. 
 
 " Never mind if he does, mother — I don't. I 
 shall have to go back I suppose, but I am here 
 vioioy" and not to spoil his enjoyment she tried 
 not to sec the skeleton in the back ground, and
 
 154 HAWKSVIE^'. 
 
 to be as gaj as he was. Tliey even had a huif^li 
 together, and more than one, for Osythe insisted 
 on Birdytutc's changing into some dry clotlies, 
 and, when lie c^ie down in them, they were fonnd 
 to be half way up between his ancles and knees, 
 while liis jacket sleeves could not by any arts 
 of persuasion be brought within many inches of 
 his wrists. Clara said she should henceforward 
 always love a scarecrow for his sake, he was so 
 like one; and he told her that nearly all j\[r. 
 AVarrendar's boys wore their things until they 
 were thus picturesquely outgrown. Osythe made 
 some festive prejjarations for tea, and altogether 
 it was the happiest night they had since they 
 came to llawksview. Birdyfute was in fluent 
 sjurits, and related his experience at Boothe 
 with a gusto and fun that almost infected his 
 mittlier. "And you were not miserable then?" 
 said she amazed. 
 
 "O! no, not after the first dav. What jiood 
 yule cake this is, mother." 
 
 "I am ghid you like it, dear, and Osythe will 
 be glad too — she is very kind now to me. Did 
 they give you enough to eat, Birdyfute?" • 
 
 " Yes ; j)orridge and clap-cake. Mother, do 
 you know what 'toadinyho' is?" 
 
 "Ko, love; what a very dieagreeable name I 
 Is it something to eat f*
 
 HAWKS VIEW. 155 
 
 "Yes; it is tough beef baked in stick-jaw. 
 And there was Saturday's dinner, which was all 
 the scraps and scrapings minced up, and seasoned 
 with Fluffy 's old boots and leath#caps." 
 
 " And who was Fluffy, dear?" 
 
 " Old Warrendar himself. He is always stuck 
 over with bits of feather and down, as if he went to 
 bed in his clothes. You should see him, mother." 
 
 " I have seen him, Birdyfute — seen him twice ;" 
 and then she detailed her two ineffectual visits to 
 Buothe, which made tlie boy explode with passion. 
 
 "If I had on\y known, darling mother, I would 
 have come before tliis," cried he. " Why did 
 you not give tongue ? Fluffy could not have 
 kept me in if I had heard you were there. Do 
 you know what I am going to do when I am 
 a man ?" 
 
 " Something very desperate from your face, 
 Birdyfute; what is it?" 
 
 " I am going to buy the biggest horsewhip that 
 can be had for money, and to flog old Fluffy 
 round Boothe with it." This terrific resolve 
 being communicated with impressive sternness, 
 Birdyfute again addressed himself to Osythe's 
 excellent yule cakes, which disappeared before 
 him like leaves before locusts. Clara said it did her 
 good to see him ; and while watching his hearty 
 boyish enjoyment she forgot her own cares.
 
 I'.C . 1IA-\VKSVI1:W, 
 
 "Do you like beiiif^ at school among so many 
 people V she asked him, and ho replied, yes, 
 they often had great fun. "But if your father 
 thoukl want to send you a long way off, where 
 you would learu foreign languages that might lielp 
 you when you are a soldier, would you like that?'' 
 
 " Yes ; Wellington was at school at Angers, 
 and Napoleon was at Brienne, where they played 
 at sieges and battles; the fellows at old Fliilfy's 
 never would, though I tried them. You shall sec 
 what a fortification I'll make with snow to- 
 morrow, mother ; and you and old Osythe and 
 Random may besiege me ; but I'm sure you'll 
 not be able to take it." 
 
 • Birdyfute certainly had fewer qualms of con- 
 science than ever irked runaway school boy 
 before. If he had come home in the most legiti- 
 mate and orthodox manner possible, he could 
 not have enjoyed more frankly and liberally the 
 charms of freedom, Clara regarded him with 
 mingled pleasure and ])ain ; nevermore would he 
 be her clinging nestling pet; he would be in 
 time, what was far better, a strong-hearted pro- 
 tector both to himself and her ; one who would 
 neither be cowed by bravado nor broken by 
 persecution. 
 
 If only there had been no to-niorrow? But as 
 Clara and Birdyfute were walking to and fro upon
 
 IIAWKSVIF.W. 157 
 
 the terrace in the afternoon, Captain Vescey rode 
 in at the gate. "Ah! an unexpected pleasure!" 
 cried he, bowing satirically to his son. 
 
 Clara ran hastily up to him, and keeping by 
 his horse's side to the door, whispered in accents 
 of entreaty, " Don't be angry with him, Marma- 
 duke, it was my fault." But Birdyfute heard 
 her, and interrupted, " JSTo, mother, it was not ; I 
 came of my own accord." 
 
 His father smiled grimly. "Do you know 
 what is the customary reward of runaway school- 
 boys?" asked he. 
 
 " A good thrashing, I suppose," was the un- 
 daunted reply. 
 
 "Exactly so. You expected it — well, I won't 
 disappoint you," and the Captain dismounted. 
 " You had better go away," added he, turning to 
 Clara, who clung to his arm and attempted to take 
 away his whip. " I promise you it shall be a good 
 one !" 
 
 No, no, Marmaduke, do forgive him this time, 
 only this time," supplicated she, without loosen- 
 ing her hold ; he tried to untwist her lingers 
 but failed, and they went into the parlor, the lad 
 following close behind. 
 
 "I must say you are very bold, sir," said his 
 father, looking at him over his shoulder. Birdy- 
 fute lauffhed.
 
 158 IrA^VKS^^EW. 
 
 "Tou may flog me if yon like, it is over in 
 five minutes. I have plenty of it at old Flufly's, 
 and don't care," said he carelessly. 
 
 "You are a thuroui^libnid Yescey ! I never 
 minded a threshing myself. You have not quite 
 spoilt him, Clara."' This was said -with a genial 
 air, but M-ith fell purpose, notwithstanding. For 
 an instant,- thinking that he had relented, his 
 wife relaxed her lu^ld, when he immediately 
 seized his son, and gave him in full measure the 
 meed of runaway schoolboys. 
 
 Birdyfute bore the infliction courageously ; and 
 as soon as it ee^ised said, " There, mother, don't 
 cry, it is over already." Then facing sharply 
 Ifround upon his father, he added, " You are 
 more spiteful and cowardly than bully Slee at old 
 Fluff'y'sl" Having vented which expression of 
 filial respect and affection, he shook himself, and 
 looked as if nothing had happened. The Cap- 
 tain made as though he did not lieai-; but the 
 words burning his face as if an equal had struck 
 him, and old Osythe, meeting him on the stairs 
 witii tiie remark that he had made a "bonny be- 
 ginning," did not contribute to compose him. 
 He did tcc-l a very mean, despicable personage 
 indeed, and not caring to encounter Clara or 
 liirdyfute again just then, he bade Osythe tell 
 his groom to saddle him a second horse, that he
 
 IIAWKSVIKW. . 159 
 
 might ride over to Boscombe to see Squire 
 B rough. 
 
 " You may spare yourself the trouble, master," 
 the old woman informed him ; " for there's not a 
 door from one end o' Astondale to the other but 
 what is shut against you. Folks ha' talked sin' 
 you went awa'." 
 
 " Talked !" cried he, with the addition of an 
 oath ; and what have the meddlesome fools 
 found to say about me ?" 
 
 " Only the truth, master. They say your wife 
 has thousands upon thousands to her fortune, and 
 you keep her in a poor bit of a cottage, and 
 send her son to school wi' all the riff-rafl' o' the 
 countryside, while you take her money and spend 
 it or hoard it for yourself. You ha' fine car- 
 riages and horses, and maybe somewhat more 
 away in London, while she rides about the coun- 
 try in a spring-cart, while your son tramps over 
 the moors nine lans; miles throus^h the snow to 
 see her, and you flog him for it — that's what folk 
 say, and I think myself they're in the right of 
 it." 
 
 Captain Yesce}' did not care to listen to any 
 more home-truths of ihis nature, so he bade 
 Osythe go about her business, and shut himself 
 up in his dressing-room. He was taken entirely 
 by surprise, and felt uncomfortably that it might
 
 ICO IIAWKPVIKW. 
 
 become dangerous to coiitimic his oppressions, if 
 his wife liad a party in her favor. After all, her 
 life was of incalculal)le value to him. It was 
 short-sighted to waste it in anxiety and mi^^cry 
 when he could so easily make her contented. 
 After a brief cogitation, he re-entered tire parlor 
 where Birdyfute and his mother were. Neither 
 took the slightest notice of his entrance ; and 
 assuming a gay, debonnaire tone and manner, he 
 presently said, "You have had your due, my son, 
 now we will be friends, if 3'ou please. Come and 
 shake hands." Clara whispered him to go ; but 
 the lad was Icss/orgiving, and would not. " Be 
 it as you will I" said the Captain, coolh'. " Clara, 
 I have a world of business to talk over with you 
 when 3'Ou arc at liijcrty to listen. I have just 
 come from Otterbourne, and find all the place 
 is going to rack and ruin under its present 
 tenants ; we must make a change of some kind. 
 AVliat do you say to our going to live tjiere our- 
 selves?" 
 
 " Arej'ou in earnest, ]\[arinaduke ?" asked Clara, 
 bewildered by this unlooked for gleam of good 
 himior and good sense. 
 
 "Certainly. Birdyfute let your mother's hand 
 go. CoMje to the fireside, Clara, and let the 
 curtains be closed." Slie obeyed reluctantly ; and 
 us she passed lier liusband's chair he put his
 
 HAWKS VIEW. 161 
 
 arm round her, and whispered, " You must not 
 quarrel with me. That bo}' shall be brought to 
 reason. It is necessary for his own good ; but 
 if it pains you, we will not speak of it any more 
 now." 
 
 " Yqs, we will, Marmaduke. It is far more to 
 me than going to Otterbourne ;" replied she, Avith 
 trembling resolution. " Birdyfute likes school. 
 Mr. Bohun says it will be beneficial to send him 
 abroad, and I am glad that he should go. I 
 can bear to part with him altogether ; but to see 
 h'nn the object of a cruel capricious tyranny at 
 home would kill me." Captain Yescey was quite 
 taken aback by this address, and began to swear 
 and bluster at what he called his wife's insolence. 
 " You will not frighten me, Marmaduke, I know 
 you now ;" rejoined she, white, but determined. 
 " If you will keep terms with me, I will do the 
 same by you ; but Birdyfute shall not suffer any 
 more either by your hardness, or my folly. Seek 
 a school fit for him, and he shall go away to be 
 out of jour power ; and you may take me to 
 Otterbouriie or imprison me here, just as you 
 prefer. While he is safe, I defy you to make me 
 suffer." And twining her arm round her child, 
 she drew him away from the room. 
 
 Captain Vescey had not anticipated this de- 
 monstration of feeling on his wife's part, and it
 
 162 HAWK8VIEW. 
 
 took him several days to recover from it. It im- 
 ]>k'asantly suggested tliat he had tbrt'eited tlie 
 only hold over her by which a woman can be eflfec- 
 tually guided — namely, her love ; and he would 
 have been extremely ghid to retrace a few lost 
 steps, could he have done so with dignity.. If he 
 had forgiven Birdyfutc at her entreaties, it would 
 have been a great gain in influence to him ; but 
 that last act of cruelty had taught her that she had 
 nothing to expect from his forboarance or manly 
 feeling. Tliis was not, however, the vicM' he took 
 of his position. The information that Osythc 
 had given him touching the general sentiments 
 on his conduct, made him suspect that Clara 
 liad found friends, whose counsels endowed her 
 with a factitious strength, which would full her 
 when tlieir supj)ort was withdrawn ; and this he 
 resolved it should speedily be by her removal out 
 of their sphere. The averted or unfriendly faces 
 that he met in the hunting-field the first time 
 he made his api)earance tJierc after his return 
 onl}' quickened his proceedings, and he intimated 
 to Clara that they were to leave Ilawksview im- 
 mediately. 
 
 During the last week of the old year Boscombe 
 and the neighborhood talked of little else but 
 the departure of the Vesceys. Birdyfute was 
 down at the rectory daily '4 and he told Agues
 
 HAWK8VIEW. • 163 
 
 that he was going to Germany, and that his 
 mother would live at Otterbourne. He seemed 
 in high spirits, and never breathed a word of com- 
 plaint against his father — never alluded to him 
 by name at all. It was considered very mysteri- 
 ous that Clara, after her husband's arrival, did 
 not appear at church or elsewhere. Some said 
 she was ill, others that she was kept in rigorous 
 imprisonment ; but the fact was the same in either 
 case. ITobody saw her; she paid no farewell 
 visits, and even Agnes, who went up to bid her 
 good bye, was not admitted. The exact day of 
 their departure was not known at the time, and 
 Agnes only guessed by the cessation of Birdy- 
 fute's visits. Osythe Dobbie stayed in charge 
 of Hawksview , and when the family had been 
 gone a month, the old house put on again its for- 
 mer look of haunted desolation, while the events 
 of the last six months receded into the romantic 
 mists of things bye-past. Agnes, in reverting to 
 them, would sometimes remark that they had the 
 unreal complexion of a dream or a play, rather than 
 the sharp significance of passages in a life drama 
 in which she had taken a part, and wonder 
 whether the changes and chances of the world 
 would ever again bring her into communication 
 with the actors therein. Vague wishes predicted 
 that they would.
 
 Wixxt tite ^i?f0Utl.
 
 HAWKSVIKW. ^G7 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Miss Sage Booty, the perpetual tliorn in tlie 
 flesh to Boscombe curates, has been ah-eady al- 
 luded to as persecuting the Honorable and Rever- 
 end Roger Bohun witli all her might and main, 
 from the very first week of his coming to the rec- 
 tory ; but Roger had given his liostages to fortune, 
 and it behoved him to keep the respectable main- 
 tenance he had acquired ; so, though it was a sore 
 trial to his masculine patience, he bore her stings 
 with the fortitude of a martyr, until, after six 
 months were fairly over, there came a lull, as 
 of vexed and wearied astonishment on the part 
 of the enemy, who, seeing that Roger Bohun 
 was not to be ousted by the same means as had 
 driven his predecessors to a prompt retreat, sud- 
 denly changed her tactics, and insisted on being 
 allowed to patronise him. She invited him and 
 Agnes to dine at the Moat house, and told her 
 friends confidentially that she* was trying to form
 
 lOS IIAM'KSVIKW. ^ 
 
 the poor interesting young tliingt?, who were more 
 ignorant and inexperienced than any body woukl 
 imagine, who liad not made human nature their 
 study as she had done. Some people, who be- 
 lieved in Miss Sage Booty as an infallible rural 
 Pope, followed her modest example, and oli'cred 
 Agnes receipts, patterns, and advice of an elemen- 
 tary character until they were compelled to see 
 that, girl as she was, she had more sense, 
 energy, and cleverness than had ever been dis- 
 covered in a Boscombe curate's wife before ; and 
 this conclusion arrived at, she became quite a 
 popular person. 
 
 In the midst of this golden time, there came 
 into the world at the rectory a little son. If ever 
 fate shone auspicious on any birth-day, it did on 
 this. It was in the earliest spring; just when the 
 first violets begin to o})en amongst the moss, and 
 the birds began to carol for joy of winter past. 
 A fine e(iuare faced, large-eyed boy he was, in 
 the sturdiest health, and of the most solid good 
 temper; a blessing which all tlie household thor- 
 oughly appreciated. Mona, independent enough 
 now to sit on the hearth rug, building up wonder- 
 ful architectural devices from a box of wooden 
 bricks, was of the same placid order — a little 
 resolute and wilful now and then, perhaps — but 
 never fretful or peevish. They were as good as
 
 HAWKS VIKW. IGU 
 
 gold, nurse Beste was in the habit of saying; and 
 though they had plenty of spirit, it was spirit of 
 the right sort, and would never harm either them- 
 selves or any body else. They had inherited the 
 benefit of all tlie holy and gracious influences 
 that surrounded Roger and his wife, and came 
 into the world God's gifts indeed, with as few of 
 the foreshadowing of evil and mischance as 
 children could have, and Agnes rejoiced over 
 them with joy unutterable, and full of thank- 
 fulness. 
 
 It was reserved for the little boy-baby to bring 
 about a perfect understanding with that crook in 
 his parent's lot, the ever-active Miss Sage Booty. 
 That lady happened to call at the rectory about 
 an hour after he had made his debut on the stage 
 of life, and saw Roger walking about the garden 
 in charge of Mona, who was in a perfectly explo- 
 sive state of delight at the idea of a little 
 brother to play with. The curate met her at the 
 gate, and announced with paternal pride, "It is 
 a boy tliis time. Miss Sage Booty." 
 
 "O! may I be god-mother? Please^ may I be 
 god-mother ?" cried she, ecstatically ; and Roger 
 actually pledged himself that she should, without 
 considering what his wife's views might be. 
 
 Miss Sage Booty had a little kci-nel of heart 
 hidden somewhere in her analomy ; and she 
 8
 
 170 II A w Ks V m. w . 
 
 drove home, feeling as if she had acquired a 
 proj>erty in one liuman being tliat nobody could 
 deprive her of. The next morning she sent for 
 her solicitor, and added a codicil to her will, to 
 the detriment of the l\cverend Augustus J'lavdes' 
 expectations ; and on the day of the christening 
 she appeared at the rectory with silver-mounted 
 coral, silver mug, candle cup, minute knife, fork 
 and spoon in velvet-lined morocco case, and a 
 purse like a testimonial, containing a hundred 
 new sovereigns, all of M-liich she laid down at 
 baby's feet. lie was named Tristan at her special 
 desire. "A strange heathenish mime for a 
 Christian bairn," remarked nurse Beste; "but a 
 pretty sounding name, too, let Avhat would come 
 of it." All the officials she fee'd magniticenth- ; 
 and after dinner she made a speech which did 
 equal honor to her heart and her head, expressive 
 of her determination to jxjrform every duty to 
 which she had that day publicly pledged herself, 
 in the most immaculate manner. She would 
 probably have become very difi'use on her 
 favorite theme of education, had not Eli Burton 
 and Squire Brough, who acted as godfathers on 
 the occasion, by a timely " Hear, hear I" checked 
 her pathetic fluency. 
 
 From that day forth there was peace between 
 the rectory and the Moat-house, except when
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 171 
 
 Agnes objected to the multiplicity and costliness 
 of Miss Sage Booty's gifts to the baby, and was 
 peremptorily bidden not to interfere with what 
 was no business of hers. She brought endless 
 series of braided and embroidered coats, resplen- 
 dent sashes, and more feathered hats than the 
 little thing could have worn if it had been Cer- 
 berus ; she laid in stores of amusing and im- 
 proving picture-books and toys of every descnp- 
 tion, and, in short, gave up her whole energetic 
 mind to the cultivation of the baby. It was 
 delicious to see her handle it ; at first gingerly, as 
 if it were a red-hot chesnut, and afterward, 
 gathering courage, as if it were a sagacious dog, 
 patting it on the head, clapping it on the back, 
 and making a queer, abortive, whistling noise to 
 please it. Tristan would sit in her lap, looking 
 as grave as a judge, with great solemn eyes fixed 
 on her face, as if he were reflecting on its pecu- 
 liarities ; then Miss Sage Booty would ask nurse 
 Beste, whose heart she had completely won, what 
 the innocent morsel could be thinking about, and 
 wish prematurely that it could speak and explain 
 itself. As a student of human nature, she was 
 very anxious for the unfolding of this tender little 
 bud, and many tantalizing disappointments had 
 she to undergo in consequence. She expected it 
 to talk fluently at three months' old ; and as it
 
 172 11AWK:5V1EW. ^ 
 
 could not walk at six, slie would have a surgical 
 exaujiuatioii held over it, whieh resulted in her 
 own contusion and baby's triumphant acquittal of 
 any defect. Ouce, only once, and Miss Sage 
 Booty remembered it to her profit ever after, did 
 she attempt to administer the universal Globb. 
 She came in after a round of parochial visits with 
 the bottle in her bag, and found baby suffering 
 from a little pain. Agnes was walking up and 
 down the nursery hushing it in her arms, and 
 while her back was turned. Miss Sage Booty 
 contrived to introduce a surreptitious spoonful 
 into baby's food, little thinking that an old look- 
 ing-glass fastened against the wall was betraying 
 her treacherous act. Agnes was.^o indignant, she 
 threatened never to let her enter the nursery 
 again ; and only on receiving a meekly tearful 
 apology, and a promise never, never, never to do 
 it any more, did the aggrieved mother relax in 
 her severity, and consent fo be appeased. After 
 this defeat. Miss Sage Booty put herself through 
 a conscientious course of hard reading in the shape 
 of " Essays on the Dsseases of Children," " Advice 
 in Casualties," and "Directions for tiie Manaire- 
 inent of Infants," that she might be prepared 
 against every emergency. Then she undertook a 
 number of conflicting theories, under the head of 
 '* Hints ou Education," and brought her mind into
 
 # HAWKSVIEW. 173 
 
 a helpless sfate of coma, from which she roused up 
 to originate a royal road to learning of her own. 
 Her next feat was the purchase of a beautiful little 
 foal, whose growth and training she herself super- 
 intended, with a view to Tristan's taking equestrian 
 exercise when he should be of a fit age. Long 
 before that grand day arrived, however, Tristan 
 had to vacate the place of honor in the house as 
 baby in favor of another brother, Master Harry 
 who, in his turn, had to make way for wee white- 
 haired Louis. 
 
 Tlie birth of a second and a third son to 
 Roger and his wife, caused great heart-burning 
 at Castle Boliun, especially to the head of the 
 house, who regarded the innocent nurslings as 
 the result of a base conspiracy to injure him in 
 his dearest principle, namely, the succession of 
 purely noble blood to the ancient barony. He 
 had not been fortunate in his eldest born, the 
 Honorable Basil. This young man, after running 
 a brief course of shameful debauchery, was living 
 abroad, nobody exactly knew how or where. 
 He had proposed to him successively, as matri- 
 monial connections, the cross-grained heiress of 
 the Clervils, and the third and ugly daughter 
 of the Duke of Rivaux, the Lady Alecto 
 Picrrepointe ; but the domestic virtues had no 
 charms for the Honorable Basil, and he declined
 
 174 HA"SYjvSvii:w. 
 
 them botli. "When, liowever, the birth of Roger's 
 first boy was announced to the old Lord, the 
 spirit of liis race cliafed witliin him furiously. 
 Basil i/iuftt inari'v, Basil tt/iot/hl iiiai'rv, whether 
 he liked it or not, he swore emphatically. Then 
 he wrote to him, oflfering as a bribe, the payment 
 in full of all his debts; and adjuring him, by the 
 stainless name and honor of his race, to espouse 
 some noble lady without delay. But the Honor- 
 able Jiesil, though he deplored profoundly his in- 
 capacity to avail himself of his father's munificent 
 douceur, replied that he had views of his own on 
 this momentous subject, which would prevent 
 compliance with his commands either then or at 
 any future time. 
 
 'llie second son, Everard, had married carlv, 
 a plain-featured heiress of noble extraction, but 
 she had brought him no children. The third, 
 Philip, had, like Roger, disgraced liimself b}- a 
 low marriage, and his wife liad produced him 
 only daughters. Arthur, William and Richard 
 were all in the army, and all single men ; but 
 when Basil's rebellious denial of Lord de Bohun's 
 wishes was promulgated, their father, inconven- 
 ient as it was to provide them with establishments, 
 immediately caet about to find suitable alliances 
 for them every one, and they, more compliant 
 tiiau their elder brother sought fur themselves
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 175 
 
 wives. Arthur united himself to the widow of 
 Algernon, Lord Fortmajne ; William allied him- 
 self with the Lady Alicia Montferrat, eleventh 
 daughter of the Duke of Longminstre ; and 
 Richard espoused a German dame, older than 
 himself by ten years ; but of unimpeachable an- 
 tiquity of descent. "When the last of these auspi- 
 cious marriages was concluded, Lord de Bohun 
 was made perfectly happy. 
 
 " There is very small chance of that lad of 
 Roger's coming into the barony now^ thank 
 Heaven!" was his devout aspiration on the oc- 
 casion. 
 
 In due course of time Richard's wife bore a 
 child — a daughter, " worse than nothing^'' said 
 the disappointed grandsii'e ; and her wicked 
 example Avas shortly imitated by William's 
 spouse. Lady Alicia seemed to have a more 
 conscientious perception of what was expected 
 from her, and she presented Ai'thur with twin 
 boys, who unhappily died a few hours after their 
 birth. When the old Lord heard of this catas- 
 trophe he literally gnashed his teeth with rage ; 
 and would gladly have made all his dutiful sons 
 divorce their wives and marry again, if the law 
 had not been opposed to such a summary repu- 
 diation. 
 
 From that well-omened midsummer day, when
 
 17C HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 Koger and the wife took possession of Boscombe 
 Rectory, seven years had ehipsed, and still the 
 only boys of the younger generation belonged 
 to the t>utcast son and his despised helpmate, 
 \vhile the other wives of the house, with what 
 their father-in-law denounced as irrational and 
 wilful perversity, had only daughters; ''little, 
 peaking, good-for-nothing daughters!" It was 
 marvelous how those buys throve too. They 
 were the tallest, largest, loveliest children in the 
 district ; and Agnes, in the midst of them, was 
 as fresh and blooming at matronly six-and-twenty 
 as she had been at maiden sixteen. There had 
 been no attempt at reconciliation ; and with the 
 exception of an annual present of Scotch tweed 
 and linsey wolsey from Lady Harriet Lennox, 
 whose lord could scarcely supply kail and parritch 
 to his own numerous brood, Koger got no help 
 from his own people. The said linsey woolsey 
 was fashioned into frocks and tunics by the 
 deft and industrious fingers of Agnes and nurse 
 Beste, and Roger himself always turned out 
 on week days in a sober suit of the dark tweed. 
 Agnes also had gown and cloak of the same 
 material, and might have had a bonnet too, had 
 nut Dunstable straw been cheaper, and more 
 becoming. 
 
 Jft-
 
 HAWK8VIEW. 177 
 
 CHAPTER II. % 
 
 The Boliim children all got their first teaching 
 from their mother ; but when Tristan could say 
 his prayers, repeat his catechism, and read a 
 chapter in the bible fluently, the curate, greatly 
 to Miss Sage Booty's disappointment, announced 
 his intention of undertaking the boy's instruction 
 himself; but having got herself up for educational 
 purposes, regardless of trouble and expense, and 
 disdaining to hide her talent in obscurity, she 
 entreated Agnes to allow her to try her skill on 
 little Mona, always, be it understood, beneath 
 mamma's supervision — and to this, consent was 
 given. The first lesson was a lesson on objects. 
 The child was planted firmly on her feet in front 
 of her preceptress, who fixed her witli her eye in 
 a way that would have utterly annihilated any 
 less high couraged creature, but which had not the 
 slightest efi'ect on Mona. She shook back her hair 
 from her face, dropped her little arms demurely, 
 and resigned herself to be made a clever girl out
 
 178 HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 of hand. Agnes sat in the back ground making 
 a cockade for Louis, and smiling doubtfully for 
 the issue of this undertaking. At the critical 
 moment, with those great sensible child's eyes 
 upon her, Miss Sage Booty began to feel an awful 
 Ecnse of the responsibility of her task, but at 
 length she deliberately opened a card-board box 
 and took therefrom a magnificent butterfly 
 speared upon a pin. Tlie large eyes became 
 larger than ever at this sight, and traveled slowly 
 round to mamma, who drew a little nearer to 
 profit by the lesson also. 
 
 '•"What is this, Mona F' asked the teacher, 
 pointing with a skinny forefinger at the impaled 
 insect. 
 
 " Butterfly," replied Mona, with sedate promp- 
 titude. 
 
 " Diptera ; insect, having two wings and two 
 elevated alteres or balances behind each. I don't 
 see the alteres, but there arc the wings. Blair's 
 Preceptor, where I learnt that a butterfly is a 
 diptera, omits to give an illustration. Kow, 
 Mona, what has it wings for '(" 
 
 "To fly with. Let it oil" that paper, please." 
 
 " It does not wish to go, it is dead. Can you 
 tell me who made this pretty butterfly, my dear?" 
 
 " God made it. I want to know who killed 
 it ?" said the child, breathless and interested.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 179 
 
 Miss Sage Booty tried to avoid the query and 
 pass on. The fact was, she had netted and killed 
 the insect herself for the illustration of this very 
 lesson, not anticipating a counter catechism such 
 as seemed impending. It was very kind of God 
 to make this butterfly for Mona to look at, was 
 it not ?" said she, with grammatical precision. 
 
 " He made it to fly in the garden, and it was 
 naughty to kill it. Mamma told Tristan he must 
 not kill butterflies," was the response. 
 
 Poor Miss Sage Booty was confounded ; she 
 said that would do for that morning, and became 
 vitally interested in Louis's cockade. The butter- 
 fly was left on the table, and Mona was left by 
 the butterfly regarding it. There she stood, her 
 hands clasped behind her, and her face settled 
 into an expression of precocious gravity and 
 thoughtfulness. She had not much of the dimpled 
 waxen prettiness so greatly admired in little 
 children ; her eyes were like her mother's, dark 
 blueish grey, with a peculiar steadfast gaze, her 
 forehead was large, frank, and open and her other 
 features were tolerably regular ; but it was the 
 ricli glow of transparent color, the bloom, elasti- 
 city, and radiance of perfect health that made her 
 what everybody acknowledged her to be, namely, 
 a gloriously beautiful child. Her limbs were 
 lengthy, brown, strong and full, of a supple grace.
 
 ISO HAAVKSVIEW. 
 
 No matter iuto what attitude she dropt, that atti- 
 tude was, for tlie time being, tlie most exquisitely 
 ])icturesque that could be imagined. Miss Sage 
 I'ootj watched her with secret uneasiness, 
 troubled by a dawning perception that there 
 might be depths even in a child's mind which all 
 her philosophy could not fathom. The insect, 
 motionless, yet vivid in color as when fluttering 
 about amongst the trees of the garden, was quite 
 a new idea to Mona. If it had looked tarnished, 
 or if its golden wings had drooped flaccidly she 
 might have understood it, but it was in tlie act to 
 fly. She put forth a careful finger and touched 
 it ; then she took it up, blew on it softly, and 
 seeing that had no efi'ect, she carried it to a 
 window where was a basket of flowering plant?, 
 and laid it on the broad leaf of a scarlet j;erauiuni. 
 For five patient minutes longer she stood consid- 
 ering it, to find, apparently, whether proximity 
 to the gay blossoms would revive it; but per- 
 ceiving that it continued unstirred, she quietly 
 restored it to the box from wliicli it had been 
 taken, and sliut it up. As she did so Ijer glance 
 slKtt straiglit across to Miss Sage Booty and their 
 eyes met. 
 
 *' Could I not learn from live butterflies as well 
 as dead ones? I like them ever so much better," 
 eaid Mona, distinctly.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 181 
 
 " Yes, dear, yes. But come now and repeat 
 me your new hymn," hastily replied the precep- 
 ti-ess. " I will tell you more about butterflies 
 another day." 
 
 Mona complied immediately ; but Miss Sage 
 Booty felt that the child knew she had killed the 
 insect, and that her thoughts were running upon 
 it all the time she was reciting the verses. There 
 was, indeed, a staightforward sagacity about 
 Mona, as about many young children, that was 
 very difficult to baffle. Already the elements of 
 her character had begun to develop themselves ; 
 she was earnestly truthful, frankly affectionate ; 
 much given to protecting and defending whatever 
 was smaller and weaker than herself; proud, 
 sensitive, impatient of control, and sometimes 
 wilful and wayward. Her breadth of character, 
 so. to speak, M'as pleasant, open and free as the 
 beautiful scenery amidst which her childhood was 
 passed ; and it was suffused with the genial 
 warmth and glow of a loving and happy home; 
 but its delicate shades, its minute touches, arose 
 out of accidental impressions, scarcely perceptible 
 when received, perhaps, but adding, as stroke by 
 stroke, to the harmonious individuality of the 
 whole. Just as the hymn came to an end, Roger 
 entered the room with Squire Brongh. The latt(>r 
 carried a pretty little lady's riding-whip, mounted
 
 182 UAWKSTIEW. 
 
 Avith a stag's head in gold, wliicli lie laid play- 
 fully across Moiui's shoulders, asking if she had 
 been a good girl at her lessons that day. Miss 
 Sage Booty, who was in mortal terror of any 
 further reference to the murdered butterfly, 
 liastened to state that she was always good ; an 
 assertion which the mischievous spark in Mona's 
 eyes as promptly contradicted. She seized the 
 whip in her fingers as it was again descending, 
 and cried out with delight. " Is it for me ? 01 
 mamma, when may I ride? 1 do so want to 
 ride." 
 
 "■ What a pity she was not born a boy. She 
 would have made a noble boy !'' said Squire 
 Brough, eyeing her with immense favor. 
 
 ''I am very content with my little girl as she 
 is," rejoined Agnes, aftectionately ; "she "will 
 comfort lier mother when the boys leave homp." 
 
 Roger .lifted the child upon his knee, and 
 permitted her to try the temper of her M'hip 
 across his boot. When tired of that exercise, she 
 looked at her motlier with a pretty persistance, 
 and reiterated, " When may I ride, mamma?" 
 
 "Darling, ask papa. Roger you must not 
 make a tomboy of her," said Agnes, reluctantly. 
 This being tantamount to consent, Mona clapped 
 her hands for joy, showing -that her mothers 
 warning against tvuihoyhui was not altogether
 
 HAWKSYILW. 183 
 
 uncalled for. Her frolic was rather apt to pass 
 into wildness — a result not much to be wondered 
 at, when we remember she had only boy play- 
 mates. 
 
 Indeed, at any moment slie would abandon her 
 doll for a game at horses, or a slide, or a climb up 
 into the yew-tree in the garden, where she would 
 sit throned like a queen, refusing to come down 
 for all nurse Beste's coaxing, commands, and 
 expostulations. Squire Brougli, whose prime 
 favorite she was, encouraged her in all these 
 pranks, predicting that she would come out in 
 the end as pure, gentle, and gracious a pattern of 
 womanhood as her mother ; the only perfect wife, 
 he averred that he had ever seen, except his own 
 dear deceased Dulcibella. 
 
 Tlie entrance of Tristan, noisy and rosy, enabled 
 Miss Sage Booty quietly to possess herself of the 
 butterfly box, and to glide off, as she thouglit 
 unperceived, while Mona was busy showing her 
 brother her whip ; but before she had gone half 
 way down the garden walk, the cliild was after 
 her crying out, " Mammie, when will be my next 
 lesson ? Kiss and make friends." 
 
 Miss Sage Booty, who was not overwhelmed 
 with affectionate relatives, thought that " kiss and 
 make friends" of little Mona the prettiest phrase 
 in the language. She alw^ivs used it either when
 
 184 HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 she had been naughty herself, or any body had 
 grieved her. It seemed as if lier heart were too 
 tender to keep a wrong feeling in it long. 
 
 "Do you like my lessons, Pet?" asked the 
 delighted teacher. Moua was not prepared to 
 say "yes'' after the issue of the present one ; but 
 she said, " come again soon," which was almost as 
 ifattering, and then ran oft' to rejoin Tristan. 
 
 But the second lesson proved no more of a 
 success than the first. It was on bible history ; 
 and the preceptress, daunted by the result of her 
 former attempt at original illustration, determined 
 henceforward to teach entirely by book. They, 
 in consequence, got entangled in a difficulty 
 about the witely merits of Rebecca, whom the 
 catechism explicitly declared to have been " a 
 very good woman." Mona doubted this, and 
 said she taught her boy to tell lies and deceive 
 his father. Ifer mamma did not do so, and she 
 was sure it was naught}'. 
 
 It did not occur to Miss Sage Booty to point 
 out the obviwus lessons demonstrated by the life- 
 long separation of the mother from her best- 
 behjvcd son ; or tlie sore punishment that after- 
 ward befel that son in the base tiliul ingi-atitudo 
 of many of his own children. She was only 
 bewildered ; and reiterated the statement that 
 Kebeccd was a very good wojnan, which left a
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 185 
 
 little trace of confusion on Mona's mind for 
 Agnes to brighten away. 
 
 They next tried English grammar ; but that 
 was found so utterly wanting in interest, that it 
 was abolished forthwith, and the multiplication 
 table shared the same fate. Miss Sage Booty 
 then began to doubt whether she had the art and 
 knack of teaching ; and one day Mona having 
 suggested that they should have a story instead 
 of lessons, she narrated the veracious history of 
 " Puss in Boots" with such happy effects, that 
 she decided to keep in the flowery paths of 
 romance henceforward, and leave Agnes to cul- 
 tivate the useful herbs of knowledge. This 
 division of labor was eminently satisfactory. 
 Within six months from that date Mona could 
 have taken honors in the nursery classics ; and 
 was, in her own person, a very successful narrator 
 of the rhymical versions of " The Life and Death 
 of Cock Kobin," " The Babes in the Wood," and 
 other pathetic histories, charming at her all- 
 believing time of life. 
 
 Miss Sage Booty committed to memory hosts 
 of spectral German legends, fairy tales, and sea 
 stories for the delectation of her pupil, and really 
 went through as much hard and conscientious 
 study as if she had undertaken a course of 
 geology, or any other highly profitable branch of
 
 186 IIAM'KSVIKW. 
 
 useful information ; and at the same time she 
 was cultivating lier own lieart, and improving it 
 amazingly, altiioiigli in her public capacity of 
 church-warden and censor-general of the parish 
 morals, she was still often a sore grievance to the 
 curate and his wife.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 187 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Hawksview, which had formed the limit of 
 Koger Bohun's favorite walk with Agnes, was 
 fixed upon for little Mona's first ride. She had 
 often begged nurse Beste to take her there before ; 
 but her legs had always fallen sliort half way, 
 and necessitated return. Now, liowever, her 
 longing was in a fair way to be accomplished. 
 For half a mile or so, the novelty of her position 
 moderated the little maiden's enthusiasm ; but by 
 and bye she began to feel at home on ponj^-back, 
 and showed it by noticing the natural objects on 
 the way. Roger was glad to observe this early 
 quickening in her mind of tlie germ of that true 
 love for nature, which is so kindly a friend in 
 life's long inactive seasons, and Agnes, from 
 whom she inherited it, fostered it tenderly. 
 
 When they were about the middle of Boscombe 
 lane, they encountered Miss Sage Booty driving 
 in her pony carriage. Amen and Hallelujah 
 were both very fresh, and pranced along, shaking
 
 188 nA"U'KSviKW, 
 
 their heads, and whisking their tails, and behav- 
 ing in a very light independent fashion. Tliey 
 decidedly ohjccted to being pulled up ; but Miss 
 Sage Booty said she insisted upon it, and ordered 
 a little boy who sat behind, to get out and hold 
 their heads. She had recently mounted a new 
 driving costume, consisting of a tight jacket, and 
 a hat with a little feather curling over the brim, 
 in which she sat very stately, with a waspish 
 faced terrier, named Candy, beside her. Candy 
 felt it incumbent on him to get down and bark 
 voeiferonsly, for whichdereliction^f manners his 
 mistress administered a lash of the whip, telling 
 him that discipline must be maintained, and then 
 she addressed herself to the curate, asking if he 
 had heard the news. 
 
 Koger had heard no news in particular. 
 " "What had come to pass," he inquired. 
 
 " The Yesceys are returning to Ilawksview. 
 Osythe Dobbie told Piper this morning. What 
 do you think of that?" Roger did not know 
 what to think. He could not say he was glad 
 to hear it, so he said nothing. ''Osythe has 
 (jiily g(jt her orders to prepare for the Captain 
 and his wife, so I suppose they don't bring 
 the boy. lie was the best of the bunch," added 
 Miss Sage Boot}', sharply, " and I ho])o lie will 
 remain so. Now, Mr. PxtliiMi, I won't listen to
 
 HAWKS VIEW. 189 
 
 any excuse — I am only going to leave a bottle 
 of Globb for Mary Spinks and the twins, and 
 then I shall drive home again and exjject you 
 and the little one to luncheon. Say you will 
 come — you might as well stop at Moat, while 
 you are there, and look round on the people, 
 they want you sadly. They are a benighted 
 race, and Wha'd-ha-thowt-it is as bad." 
 
 Koger, for once, allowed himself to be dic- 
 tated to ; and after Mona had seen Hawksview 
 they went to the old Moat House. Luncheon 
 despatched, he left his little girl to be amused by 
 Miss Sage Booty, and walked into the village. 
 Moat had, ever since his coming to Boscombe, 
 been the part of the parish that had given him 
 the most anxiety and the least satisfaction. It 
 lay low in a hollow, thickly-wooded, which seemed 
 to imbibe and retain noisome fogs as its natural 
 atmosphere for two-thirds of the year ; and in 
 the other to evaporate them in malignant fevers, 
 rheumatisms, and catarrhs. The people were of 
 more irregular habits than others, and were con- 
 tinually in ditiiculties, eitlier from wrong-doing, 
 improvidence, misfortune, or overplus of chil- 
 dren ; and charity, which was more freely dis- 
 pensed amongst them than any other community 
 in Astondale, seemed to have the further effect of 
 increasing their helpless dependence. The curate's
 
 11)0 IIAWKSVIKW. 
 
 first visit was to a middle-aged bed-ridden man, 
 who had lost the use of his limbs while blasting 
 in a quarry some years before. This man was a 
 fiivorite subject with ]\[iss Sage Booty, and her 
 ]n-ime minister, Piper, Roger found him projiped 
 up in bed, listening to the drowsy humming of 
 the summer flies in the window pane. The house 
 was very bare and empty of furniture, and the man 
 himself, though of an intelligent countenance, 
 looked fearfully emaciated. What the parish 
 allowed, he said scarcely kept body and soul 
 together, for he had so many bairns, all of them 
 with a " capital twist." This was no case of " go 
 work or starve," but one of jjatiently "lie still 
 and starve," which the President of the anti- 
 alms-giving society himself might have pitied 
 and relieved without wounding his too tender 
 conscience. Roger had always felt a deep com- 
 misseration for this man, whom he could not 
 effectually relieve, and he now sat down on the 
 lang settle to have some talk with him about his 
 wife and children. They were all at M'ork in the 
 hay-fields, he said, and what a blessed thing for 
 ])0'^r folks it was that the harvest was promising 
 bO fiiir. 
 
 " And is the young missis nicely ?" he inquired, 
 with frank civility. " 3Iy old woman says she's 
 a sight for sair e'en."
 
 UAWKSVIEW. 191 
 
 Roger smiled at the homely compliment, and 
 replied that she was quite well, and would come 
 ' ^oon to visit him. 
 
 " I ha' begun knitting t' bairn's stockings as 
 she advised, an' I read when I ha' ought worth 
 reading ; but look you here, sir," and reaching of 
 his hand to a narrow shelf fixed against the wall, 
 he took down a new copy of, "A call to the un- 
 converted, or a thunder clap from Zion," and held 
 it out to the curate. " We ha' getten a library 
 at Moat now, so I sent t' lad for a book, an' 
 that's what master gave 'em. Law, sir, I'm 
 stalled o' thunder claps! If it was 'Balm for a 
 wounded Sinner,' or ' Food for them 'at ha' no 
 meat,' there'd be a kind o' comfort in it ; bu* to 
 ha' ane's ears danged wi' threats for ever, is more 
 than I can stomach. I'll ask you. Parson, will 
 you lend me a book or an auld newspaper ance 
 i' a way ?" 
 
 " Certainly, I will. Mills. I onlj^ take a weekly 
 paper myself; but you shall have it regularly. As 
 for books, tell me what you like, and I'll do my 
 best for you in that line too." 
 
 " I'm like t' bairns sir, a story book or a song 
 book for me, an' travelers' tales that may be is 
 true an' may be isn't. Something that will make 
 a man forget his miseries. This thunder clapping 
 only gars 'em stang worse, I think.
 
 192 llAWKisVIEW. 
 
 " I will remember your wants. Mills ; but tell 
 me who has organised this library at Moat? I 
 have not heard a word of it before ?" ' 
 
 " Miss Sage Booty is at the head of it, her and 
 Mrs. Piper. If you could 'siniate what to buy, 
 it 'ud be a good thing; for these ladies is so con- 
 ceited o' themselves, they think poor folks is to 
 be talked to an' petted like bairns." 
 
 " I will g<) in and look at what they have col- 
 lected on my way home. I believe they wish to 
 benefit you." 
 
 " Yes, parson, I ha' no doubts o' that, it's t' way 
 of it, it's all wrang," replied Mills, in a tone of 
 sarcasm ; " do folks such as you be always at 
 mire for babes o' grace, and such -like spoou 
 meat ? Law, parson, I ha' getten my auld 
 mother's Bible here, and I can read it if I've a 
 mind too, for it's all as plain as a pike staff there. 
 These little bits o' books wi' their warnings, an' 
 awakenings, an' thunder clappings, is enough to 
 daze a jiian like me, instead o' helping him for- 
 Avard. I ha' been at t' first step ever so lang« 
 First, Miss Sage Booty, she brings me 'The 
 Alphabet o' the only true Wisdom,' an' as soon 
 as I ha' gotten that of, comes Mrs. Piper wi' 
 ' Leading-strings for tottering babes.' I get out 
 o' them into !Miss Sage Booty's ' Go-cart for 
 falterers in Faith,' an' then I tell 'em Pd like to
 
 • HAWKS VIEW. 193 
 
 go forward if they pleased ; an' parson, wliat do 
 you think they says then ? They says, ' Mills, 
 , you're a poor benighted sinner, and must let them 
 as ha' more light see for yon.' I fairly wished 
 em' out o' t' house, I did. Then I sent to t' school 
 for something more lightsome, and there comes 
 this thunder clap !" 
 
 " Isot the most relishing diet in the world to 
 judge from the look of it," said the Curate, 
 furling over a few of the leaves, and culling here 
 and there a sentence. " It would try a sti'onger 
 digestion than yours Mills, I am afraid." 
 
 "Eh ! parson, it sours on one's stomach, and does 
 more harm than good, as I telt them ladies .this 
 morning, an' Mrs. Piper she left me a little trac' 
 — there it is on t' dresser. But I'm set again' 
 reading it, it's gotten such a name: 'The Burn- 
 ing Brand.' Now, if it was possible for anything 
 ladies says to poor folk to be impertinent, I suld 
 call them two right-down impei-tinent wi' their 
 tongues. I never like calling bad names, an' thev 
 *as good as telt me that /was t' Brand i' t' trac'. 
 My auld woman would use their bits o' books for 
 kindling if she daur ; but it won't do, I tell her, 
 to alFront Miss Sage Booty." 
 
 While Roger listened to Mills with that inter- 
 ested patience that the poor know so well how to 
 appreciate, a woman put her head in at t]ie door 

 
 ll»Jr HAWK8VIKW. W 
 
 jind asked, '• I heard t' parson M'as here, Mills ; is 
 he long gone ? My old man wants to see him a bit." 
 
 Eoger immediately rose up and said, " What 
 is it, Mrs. Frouston ; is he particular to see me 
 to-day ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, he's getten something on his mind, 
 he says, that he must tell you. My old man's 
 always getten something on his mind," replied 
 the woman, philosophicall}-. Roger said he 
 would follow her in a few minute?, and then she 
 went away. 
 
 "Jerry has been taking his drink o' Miss Sage 
 Booty's grand stufl', and it's getten into his head," 
 observed Mills, sbrewdly. 
 
 "Not impossible, I fear. Send one of 3'our 
 boys to the rectory, to-night, and I will return 
 you a newspaper and a rabbit for to-morrow's 
 dinner. And now, good-day to you," said Roger, 
 kindly. "And I'll lookout a book too, such as 
 may suit you." 
 
 "Thank you, Sir. I won't say but that t' 
 rabbit '11 be very acceptable, book or none," re- 
 plied Mills, with a hollow, hungry smile. And 
 then the curate departed, leaving behind him 
 one heart robbed of its bitterness; and all the 
 more resigned in its suffering, for the kindness 
 which cost the giver nothing yet made the re- 
 ceiver rich.
 
 ♦ IIAAVKSVIEW. 105 
 
 Mrs. Froiiston was standing outside her door 
 to conduct Roger to her old man's presence. " He 
 "was getting very tedious with his flights and his 
 fancies again," she said. "Perhaps the parson 
 M'ould give him a good talking to, to set him 
 right in his wits." 
 
 "Well, Jeny, your wife says you have some- 
 thing to tell me. "What is it !" Roger asked, ap- 
 proaching the fire over whicii crouched a de- 
 crepit remnant of superannuated mortality. 
 
 At the sound of a strange voice Jerry lifted up 
 his head and cried in a passion: "What she's 
 been at her lees again, t' auld wife? I want 
 noan o' t' parson ! Get awa' wi' ye both ; and he 
 followed up his commands by muttering a series 
 of oaths, and brandishing a feeble arm as if he 
 would strike. Jerry Frouston had been imbecile 
 for many years ; but not imbecile enough to 
 forget the flowery eloquence of the days when he 
 had been a horse jockey. His wife bade him be 
 civil. 
 
 " When he gets into his tantrums, sir, a clout 
 on t' head wad do him good," remarked she, 
 apologetically, to Roger. "He's always i' this 
 way when he's supped much o' Miss Sage Booty's 
 physic, and he's emptied a whole bottle sin' 
 morning:." 
 
 "Then you have nothing to tell me, Jerry;
 
 19G . IIAWKSVILW. • 
 
 your miiul is quite comfortable?" said Roger, 
 quietl}'. 
 
 " Xought as I know on, 'less it be tliat t' auld 
 Queen Anne's dead ; an' it's no a hanging matter 
 that I'm aware on, Parson." 
 
 "Scarcely, Jerry. Then I'll bid you good 
 afternoon. And Roger went his way, pursued by 
 a volley of anything but blessings. 
 
 His next visit was to a tumble-down cottage 
 where lived Branker, formerly a carrier at 
 Boothc; but who had lost his character and 
 business by a series of petty thefts, for which he 
 had undergone a term of imj^ris^nment. lie had 
 a sickly wife, whom he treated ill, and several 
 starved-looking children, wliom Agnes helped to 
 clothe by her own little ones' cast off garments. 
 The mother was well meaning and religious; but 
 so ailing and helpless, that amongst the many 
 miserable families at Moat, her's was ever tlie 
 most destitute. Miss Sage Booty would not 
 assist them because of the father's bad character, 
 and Roger could do but little among so many. 
 The mother received him with the usual torrent 
 of cojnplaints against lier husband ; but grew 
 quieter under his gentle counsel and reasoning. 
 And when lie gave her a half-a-crown, she was 
 only eager for him to be gftne, that she might 
 *crawl out and biiv brea<l hikI an ounce of tea
 
 HAWKSVIEW. , 197 
 
 before Braiikcr came home and took it from her 
 to spend at the ale-honse. 
 
 Tills was Roger's last visit for tliat day. He 
 returned to the old Moat House for Mona, and 
 they rode home. Agnes's face was always a 
 I'efreshinent after a round at Moat ; but she met 
 him at. the door more beaming even than usual, 
 and bade him guess who had come upon her 
 unannounced that afternoon. Entering tlie 
 drawing room in haste, he found Eli Burton in 
 possession of his easy chair ; and tlie way in 
 which they greeted each other showed that the 
 friend of school and college was still the dearest 
 friend of the family-man. 
 
 Agnes Bohun was always delighted to have 
 Eli Burton at the rectory, his society was such an 
 enjoyment to Roger, whose increasing family 
 and narrow means kept him always at home. 
 She M'Ould have liked him to have his holiday 
 yearly ; but the necessity of strict economy had 
 presented itself in the curate's house as a guest 
 that never went away, and warned them both 
 from any indulgence that could not be dispenseii 
 with, Happy as she was, the gentle 3^oung wife 
 often knew the want of what only nioney 
 procures ; and though never for a moment did 
 she regret it for Iterself, she regretted it often for 
 her husband and her children. *
 
 lOS • IIAWKSVIEW. 
 
 After dinner tlic whole family, except LoniB, 
 who was cozily snoozing in his cot, gatliered 
 rgund the early lighted drawing-room fire. Mona, 
 with the affectionate familiarity of long liking, 
 climbed upon Eli Burton's knee ; Tristan got 
 possession of a stool by the fender corner near 
 his mother; and Harry, the audacious, .entered 
 upon the occupancy of the centre of the hearth- 
 rug 'with his Noah's ark. Conversation and 
 mutual gossip flowed apace. Eli told of recent 
 pedestrianizing in Airedale and Warfedale, and 
 of his last year's coracle fishing expedition into 
 North "Wales, while Agnes breathed an envious 
 sigh for her own dear Roger, whose excursions 
 never extended beyond the bounds of his parish. 
 Suddenly the curate recollected the news he had 
 heard from Miss Sage Booty that morning, and 
 lie stopped in the midst of another subject, to 
 communicate it to his wife. " The Vesceys are 
 coming back to Ilawksview, Agnes," said he ; 
 " such is the report, at least." 
 
 "Coming back to Ilawksview!" echoed she, 
 in very considerable astonishment, " It is 
 not the shooting seasim — what brings them, I 
 wonder?" 
 
 "I think I can tell you," Eli Burton interposed, 
 "They have just lost their hnv'suit about Otter- 
 b<l\irne. I sujipose you have heard of it."
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 1 99 
 
 " Not a word ; we hear nothing here," Agnes 
 said, with a little haste ; and then she added, as 
 if fearing lest her words should seem to imply 
 discontent with their secluded position : " Nothing 
 of our neighbors' quarrels and disputes that is." 
 
 " Then I will tell you what I know. You 
 will recollect that it was under an old will that 
 Mi"S. Yescey got tlie property ; and that there 
 was some disagreement between the Captain and 
 her brother at the time as to its validity. Some 
 months since, a will of much more recent date 
 was found, which revoked all the provisions of 
 the former one in favor of the brother. He in- 
 stantly claimed Otterbourne, but Captain Yescey 
 would not yield his prize without a struggle; and 
 trusting in the old adage that ' possession is nine 
 tenths of the law,' he determined to fight every 
 inch of the ground. He declared the new will 
 to be an impudent forgery ; but when the cause 
 came on for trial, it was pronounced valid. The 
 ujishot was that the Yesceys lost the estate, and 
 gained an enemy by their pertinacious resistance 
 of the rightful owner's claims. Mr. Loftus, the 
 successful party in the cause, demands back rents 
 for six years, which he states he should not have 
 done had his brotlier-in-law yielded to tlie evident 
 justice of his claiin, and not set up against it the 
 ridicvdous plea of forgery." •
 
 200 IIAWKSVIEW. 
 
 " Then all poor Birdyfnte's inlieritance is 
 Ilawksview, witli the few acres of moor and 
 wood," said Agnes, rather sorrowfully. " What 
 a pity that lie should have been brought up wiili 
 liigh expectations to be disai^pointed at an age 
 when he will feel it keenly." 
 
 " I don't fear that much," rejoined Eli. " I 
 should imagine that he has learnt to rough it." 
 
 "*Poor little Birdyfute !" Agnes murmured, 
 reflectively ; and in her memory she saw tlie 
 small black figure of the boy toiling through the 
 snowy winter twilight of a day more than seven 
 years agu — that memorable day when he ran 
 away from school to see his mother. 
 
 Tristan at her knee, with his grand Arabian 
 story book, looked up when she repeated her 
 pitying words, and wondered a little why ma- 
 ma's eyes looked so very bright, and why her 
 slender white fingers alterward rested so long and 
 gently on his head. She was thinking prayerfull}', 
 perhaps, that she trusted in God to save her boys 
 from serving their ajiprenticeship to life tlirough 
 the '' roughing it" process, which had been the 
 experience of Birdyfute, her little friend of early 
 Boscombe days.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 201 
 
 CHAPTEK lY. 
 
 It was only three days after Koger Boliun 
 brought home the news, wliich set all Astondale 
 gossiping, that Captain Yescey and his wife 
 arrived at Ilawksvicw. There was no Birdyfute. 
 with them, neither did they bring any servant. 
 They had traveled to Boothe by the stage coach, 
 and thence had driven to the cottage in a chaise 
 cart ; they reached their destination unobserved 
 after dusk, and found Osythe Dobbie, according 
 to lier orders, ready and expecting them. Clara 
 immediately retired to her room, and the Captain 
 ordered lights and supper into the parlor, where 
 lie remained alone;- his wife re-appearing no 
 more that night. The Captain was, according to 
 Osytlie's rej)ort, as savage as a bear, and would 
 not suffer himself to be spoken to ; and as for his 
 poor lady, she was as wan and Aveary as a ghost, 
 with a face that looked as if the misery would 
 never go out of it any more. The neighborhood 
 liad not- for some time any opportunity of verily- 
 9^
 
 2<>2 IIAWKSVIKW. 
 
 ing this account, for iioLuilv cli>>su to be tlie iir^t 
 to call, and neither Captain Vesce}' nor Clara 
 ajipeared ahroad. There was not a single horee 
 in the llawksview stable, and Osythe denoimced 
 the housekeeping as " meaner tlian niean,quite be- 
 neath gentlefolks, however poor. ''CaptainVescey 
 ■was undeniably very poor, being, in fact, worth 
 some sixty thousand pounds less than nothing. Ilis 
 paying the back rents, claimed by his brother-in- 
 law, Loftus, was utterly out of the question ; and 
 he had written to him saying, that it was a case as 
 hopeless as trying to squeeze wine out of a flint, 
 to try to get money from a man who had none; 
 Mr. Loftus was irritated, and not unnaturally, at 
 the btujc charge that Captain Vescey had invent- 
 ed to upset his rights, and though not intend- 
 ing, for his sister's sake, to proceed to extremities 
 against him, he would not yet relinquish the 
 power that he held in terrorum over him. lie 
 did not reply to his letter; and in this uncertain 
 ]>osition of their aifairs, it was that the Vesceys 
 returjied to Ilawksview. 
 
 Captain Veseey was now more straitened and 
 encumbered in his circumstances than lie had 
 ever been before, insomuch as he had a wife and 
 a son to maintain. But it did not enter into any 
 one of the jdans that floated through his mind to 
 i\llow himself to be long hampered by tkese en-
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 203 
 
 tanglemcnts. He intended to change his name 
 and go abroad, where it would be hard, if, with 
 his imposing person, his skill at fence, and his 
 tricks at play, he could not maintain himself in 
 tolerable luxury. 
 
 To obtain the means for this new start, he had 
 an idea of selling Hawksview to Squirrj Brough, 
 in the midst of whose property it lay ; tlien his 
 wife might go back to her brother, and his son 
 might learn to shift for himself. But while the 
 peach of his intentions was slowly ripening, 
 behold, tlie hand of fate was gliding stealthily 
 over the wall to pluck it from his possession. 
 
 Tiiey had been above three weeks at Hawks- 
 view, and not one old neighbor had been near 
 them, except Roger Bohun and Agnes, whom 
 Osythe had strict orders to exclude. The Cap- 
 tain found it intolerably dreary, and Clara did 
 not add to its cheerfulness. She was always 
 ailing and complaining — indeed, it seemed as if k 
 long course of neglect and ill-treatment had 
 weakened her mind. Her brilliant beauty was 
 faded, her golden hair dimmed, her graceful 
 figure worn and bent. Her husband was in 
 the habit of taunting her, by saying she was 
 about as lively a companion as a Death's-head, 
 and she would answer him with a low unmeaning 
 laugh ; but one evening this slight manner of
 
 204 HA^VKSVIEW. 
 
 indifference or defiance left lier, and she tried to 
 look gay and pleasant with the slavish craft of 
 fear and weakness that lias an end to gain. 
 Captain Yescey saw tlirungh the device easily 
 enough ; but as it was now one of his keenest 
 enjoyments to subject his victim to a species of 
 slow torture, he let her fancy for a time that she 
 was beguiling him into a consenting mood. 
 
 " Marmaduke, I believe 1 am very ill. I 
 should like to see my boy ; I have not seen him 
 fur three years," said the poor lady restles-sly, 
 locking and unlocking her fingers. " Three years 
 is a very long time." 
 
 " You look no worse than you always do. It 
 is nonsense to bring the lad away from his studies 
 for a whim," replied her husband. 
 
 '• It is not a whim, Marmaduke, If you do not 
 let him come to me soon, I shall never see him 
 ai^ain. I shall not know mv darlinj^'s face when 
 ■we meet in Heaven ! You look kind ; you will 
 grant me this last request, and I will bless you !" 
 
 " Pshaw, I ho])ed you were as sick of heroics as 
 lam? The lad does not care for you — he has 
 not asked to be with you for a hjng while now. 
 He is ha])pier away. In fact, you weary and 
 disgust him as much as 3'ou do me, and no 
 wonder !" 
 
 Clara's white li]»s fjuivercd with pain, whicli
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 205 
 
 she tried to cliange into a smile. lie eould stab 
 her cruelly yet. "But let him come; let me 
 write to him myself," pleaded she. "If I am 
 sometimes tiresome, he would not like his mother 
 to die without blessing him." 
 
 Captain Yescey puffed lazily at his cigar, and 
 lifted his eyebrows contemptuously. " There is 
 no question of dying at present. A creaking 
 gate hangs long,' said he, bitterly, " I wish I 
 could see a prospect of such a blessed release." 
 
 His wife had drawn a little nearer to him, 
 impelled by God knows what delusive and tena- 
 cious hope, but now her countenance fell again. 
 " I have tried to kill myself, Marmaduke ; you 
 know I have ; but I dare not," muttered she, " I 
 dare not go into God's presence till he calls me ; 
 but when I stand there, I will bear witness 
 against you that you are as much my murderer 
 as if you had drawn a knife across my throat or 
 sti-angled me in my sleep. I will, Marmaduke, 
 I will." 
 
 " Curse you ! get out of my sight ; the sooner 
 you go and bear witness the better. Write to 
 the lad at your peril. You shall not see him for 
 another year for this," cried he, wrathfully, and 
 he took her arm to thrust her from the room. 
 She tried to wrench herself free, and it was 
 pitiable to see the struggles of her weakness in
 
 20G HA'W'KSVIEW. 
 
 liis relentless grasp; but she was finally put into 
 the liall, and the door shut upon her. For a few 
 minutes she stood panting and trembling on the 
 mat halt" disposed to brave her tyrant again ; but 
 Osythe, who had been listening to the scuflle, 
 came and enticed her away to her chamber. 
 
 '* What's the good o' striving wi' a man that's 
 possessed by a legion o' devils ?" remonstrated the 
 old woman. " You'll provoke him to kilL you 
 one of these days." 
 
 "I wish he would, I wish he would!" cried 
 Clara, passionately ; he would put me out of 
 my torment then ! She raved aboUt the room 
 like a crazy creature — indeed, it is probable that 
 she had intervals of frenzy, which passed and left 
 her dull and half imbecile for days together. 
 Osytlie Dobbie in her own miml held her as 
 "daft," and watched %er cautiously during these 
 periods, lest, as she phrased il, she might be 
 tempted to put an end to herself. This evening 
 she was more violent and uncontrolled than usual, 
 and the succeeding reaction was proportionate 
 depression. When worn to exhaustion, she sank 
 in a heap on the floor, moaning and ciying out' 
 sharply, as if tortured by some physical pain. 
 After a little while, she let Osythe undress 
 lier and lay her on the bed ; but that cry 
 still went on, until the old woman was alarmed.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 207 
 
 and thonglit of se<.'king the Captain, and asking 
 if he would fetch Dr. Drake. 
 
 " What ails you, tell me where the pain is ?" 
 said slie, kindly. There was no answer, only the 
 low, unmeaning moan. Captain Yescey had also 
 heard it, for he mounted the stairs and opened 
 the chaniher door to look in, taking his cigar 
 from his lips as he did so. 
 
 " Is anything the matter more than usual ?" 
 inquired he, approaching the bed carelessly. 
 
 " Nay, I don't know ; look at iier !" and Osythe 
 held the candle so as to throw its light on Clara's 
 face. Her Syes were closed, and she was evi- 
 dently unconscious ; her lips were apart and 
 stained with blood, and her breath came in short 
 rattling gasps. " I had better fetch Dr. Drake." 
 
 " No stay, I'll go myself. I would not remain 
 with her in that state for a Idngdom ; the scandal- 
 mongers would say I killed her," was his hasty 
 reply. 
 
 " An' so you have," muttered Osythe, as he 
 went out of the room ; " and your black heart '11 
 tell you so enow." The old woman busied her- 
 self in making the chamber neat, and then, 
 shading the candle, sat down by the bedside to 
 watch the patient, and to await the return of her 
 master with Dr. Drake. 
 
 It was a clear moonlight night when Captain
 
 208 HAWKSYIEW. 
 
 Yescej set forth down the hill toward Boscombe. 
 lie walked at a smart pace, lookino; neither to the 
 right hand nor the left ; but if there had been 
 any s\)y to watch his face, he would have seen 
 that he was not altogether cahn. Ills compressed 
 lips were livid, his eye was more sinister in ex- 
 pression even than usual, and there was a twitch- 
 ing about the muscles of his mouth which showed 
 a mind ill at ease. lie kept out of the deep 
 shadow, cast by the elevated bank, and more 
 than once he stopped with a start, and peering 
 forward as if he discerned some suspicious shape 
 in advance. Dr. Drake had just ridden up to 
 his own door from one direction as the Captain 
 approached it from another, and as soon as he 
 understood the urgency of the case he turned 
 his horse and galloped away toward Hawks view, 
 leaving Captain Ye^y to follow. In returning 
 past the rectory, Cajitain Vcscey noticed the 
 brio'ht liirht in tlio drawingr-room wliich shone 
 from the window across the lawn ; and after a 
 moment's hesitation he entered the garden and 
 rang at the Ijcll, saying to himself, "Clara believed 
 in priests and prayers. I suppose, if she is really 
 going to die, she would like to see Bohun." lie 
 Bent in his message and waited in the porch 
 while it was delivered. Both Agnes and Iloffer , 
 came out to him abr.'.st immediately. Agnes
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 209 
 
 was desirous of going with lier husband in case 
 she might be useful to the sick lady ; but Captain 
 Vescej coldly declined her offer. 
 
 " 1 hope poor Birdjfute is come ?" said she. 
 
 "Tliere has been no time to send for him. 
 Clara was taken ill scarcely an hour ago," was 
 the negligent reply. 
 
 Hoger was now ready ; and after whispering a 
 few words to Agnes, he left the house with his 
 com]3anion. Their walk was rapid and silent, 
 for when the curate attempted to speak, Captain 
 Vescey answered only in surly monosyllables. 
 There was a light shining from Clara's window ; 
 but as they drew near to the house it receded, 
 and on oj)ening the door they saw Osythe lean- 
 ing over the banisters to show Dr. Drake down 
 stairs. The country surgeon was not a courtl}^ 
 person, and he had just seeri'that which made him 
 more savage than ordinary. " I can do nothing 
 for your wife. Captain Yescey, she is past human 
 aid," said he abruptly. 
 
 " She is not dead, is she ? I hear her moan- 
 ing," replied the Captain, listening toward the 
 room in which Clara lay. 
 
 " Not dead ; but dying. A few hours will end 
 it all." 
 
 " What ails her ? She had no mortal disease 
 that I knew of."
 
 210 llAWKSVIKW. 
 
 " Dont ask me what ails lier. You should 
 know best, Captain Vescoy,''' replied the surgeon, 
 with marked signiticance. Then turning to Eoger, 
 he whispered, '' that what he came to do he had 
 better do quickly." 
 
 '' I should desire you to remain, Dr. Drake, to 
 watch for any favorable change that may take 
 place," said Captain Yescey, loftily. " I do not 
 see why my wife's sudden illness should all at 
 once assume a serious aspect. Please to follow 
 me to her room." 
 
 The surgeon made no remonstrance but re- 
 mounted the stairs quietly, the curate after him. 
 Except that the pitialde moaning was gentler 
 than before, Clara appeared as she had done 
 when her husband left hur ; death was in her 
 countenance unmistakabl}' ; the spring of life was 
 running down very fast. Koger, however, saw a 
 gleam of consciousness come into her face as 
 he began his prayers ; it faded again as fast, 
 th'^ugh perhaps the words of comfort penetrated 
 lier failing sense, for her moaning ceased. Sud- 
 denly she opened her eyes, and fixing them on 
 some object that she fancied she saw standino' 
 beside her, said, " Birdyfute, bend down your face 
 and kiss me. I alwavs loved you, darlin" — 
 you will forgive your father." -Her lijjs con- 
 tinued to move fur several minutes inaudibly,
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 211 
 
 and then ceased. Roger Boliun resumed his 
 pr<iyei"S ; and while he was uttering the closing 
 words, Clara Yescey's soul departed. Dr. Drake 
 who had been leaning over the foot of the bed 
 with his watch in his hand, restored it to his 
 pocket, and with a gesture of his head to Osythe, 
 intimating that all was over, he walked away to- 
 ward the door. Captain Yescey and the curate 
 folio wins: in silence. 
 
 t
 
 212 IIAWKSVIEW, 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 The intelligence of Mrs. Yescey's sudden death 
 flew from lip to lip like wildfire, accompanied bj 
 many a suspicions whisper and shocked com- 
 ment. Dr. Drake even went so far as to say, 
 tliat there was evidence enough of ill-treatment 
 to Pui)]iort a charge of manslaugliter ; and the 
 woman who laid out the corpse talked long and 
 loudly of the cruel bruises tliat darkened the 
 tender flesli. The universal verdict of Aston dale 
 M'as, that ill all England tliere lived not a greater 
 viUain unhanged tlian Captain Yescey. lie did 
 not l)ear his loss so philosophically as nnght have 
 been anticipated. During the first two days after 
 Clara's death he would have given much to hear 
 her feeble uncertain step, faltering down the 
 stairs at his iinju'rious summons, as was its wont; 
 lie missed his victim, and though not repenting 
 of his f(U-mer harshness, he would much rather 
 that it had not become so notoiions. Yory ro- 
 luctantlv had he wi-ittcn to ^Ir. Loi'tus, (h's-iriiii'
 
 # HAWKS VIEW. 213 
 
 his presence at the funeral, and still more re- 
 luctantly had he summoned his son ; but common 
 decency demanded the appearance of young 
 Marmaduke, and the Captain hoped to make 
 good terms for himself with his brotlier-in-law, 
 during the softened feeling which a meeting at 
 such a time might be expected to produce ; but 
 in this last hope he reckoned on the weakness of 
 human nature, and was disappointed. Mr. 
 Loftus had arrived, bringing with him old Janet 
 Saunders, who speedily carried Osythe's reports 
 to her master, and thus changed his wavering 
 resentment into settled rancor. He felt that 
 Captain Yescey was no better than a murderer ; 
 and though he did not say so in j)lain terms, he 
 let him see that with his wife's life had ended 
 every claim he could lay to her brother's for- 
 bearance. After their first awkward meeting 
 they had voluntarily kept apart, each in his 
 seclusion, steadily revolving his own plan of 
 action as soon as the event which had brought 
 tliem together should be over. 
 
 The evening of the day before that fixed for 
 the funeral was come, and Captain Yescey in 
 restless discomfort aAvaited the arrival of his son. 
 The lad and he had not met for a long time, and 
 to meet under tjie present circumstances was very 
 awkward. Birdyfute was a boy no longer to be
 
 214 IIAWKSVIKW. * 
 
 tyrannized over and beaten for rebellion ; he was 
 a man almost — eighteen on the very day his 
 mother died. The hour when he was expected to 
 appear passed, and Captain Yescey had just 
 resigned liimself to his cigar with a sense of 
 relief, in the idea that his son would not come 
 till the morrow, when a quick impatient knock 
 re-echoed through the silent house. He started 
 up from his chair with a bitter oath ; then hur- 
 riedly composing his countenance, passed into the 
 hall to receive his son. They shook hands in 
 silence, then went into the pallor together and 
 shut the door. For a second or two they con- 
 fronted each other with a steadfast gaze, half 
 searching, half defiant ; then Captain Yescey 
 turned away and dropped into his chair. 
 
 " It is a pity you were not here earlier, Mar- 
 madnke ; but your mother's illness was so rapid 
 that it gave us no time for anything," said he, 
 and then relit his cigar with ostentatious calmness. 
 
 " Did she ask for me !" inquired Birdfyfute. 
 " I am sure she must have wished for me." 
 
 "The strangest thing of all was, that, when 
 she lay, dying, she fancied you were present and 
 spoke to you ; she kept the delusion to the last." 
 
 "O! mother, mother!" and Birdyfutc forget- 
 ting all else, wept for the dear and tender 
 guardian of his childhood with bitterness.
 
 * UAWKSVIliW. 215 
 
 Captain Yescey watched him with sardonic 
 contempt. It was a long while now since every 
 germ of natural affection had died of drought in 
 his own arid heart, and he thought his son's 
 tears showed a lack of manhood. But when the 
 fit of emotion was passed, and he lifted his face 
 from the table, where he had hidden it upon his 
 arms, his falher saw a countenance and a spirit 
 of which he might have been proud (had he not 
 forfeited all claims to such an honest pride) to 
 say that they were his boy's. Birdyfute had 
 grown to his father's stately height, and while he 
 had inherited his physical strength, grace and 
 courage, he had taken a strain of his mother's 
 tender beauty, and sliowed in his countenance 
 that he was gentle as well as brave, and faitliful 
 as he was beautiful. 
 
 When Birdyfute presently left the room, his 
 father guessed whither he was going and forbore 
 remark. Pausing for a minute outside his 
 mother's door, he heard Janet Saunders weeping 
 and lamenting within. " O ! my poor murdered 
 lamb," sobbed the old servant; "ay, surely 
 murdered ; and dying wi' such sweet words o' 
 ]>ardon on her blessed lips ? Birdj'fute may 
 forgive his father ; but that wall I never." He 
 entered noiselessly ; but Janet, who was kneeling 
 beside the bed with her hands stretched out
 
 216 IIAAVKSVILW. 
 
 toM-ard her darling, heard him, and sprang up 
 ■\virli a cr}' of surprise and sorrow. " Birdyfute, 
 ye're too hite to save her — she's dead !" cxchuined 
 she, clnspinghis arm, and looking into his face with 
 tearful eyes; " ay, she's escaped her tyrant, an' I 
 know not that we suld grieve. It's better as it is." 
 Birdyfute drew near the bed and looked at 
 his mother. His face was vevy pale, his lips 
 were compressed, his eyes were hot and dry. 
 Those words that he had heai'd Janet utter, 
 mingled like a subtle poison with his blood, and 
 gave his feelings the corrosive taste of hatred to 
 his father. Gazing on that beloved face, even 
 in its deathly calm wearing the impress of long 
 Buflering, his heart hardened against her cruel 
 tyrant, and he breathed aloud some angry words 
 of threat and revenj^e. Osvtlie Dobbie, who had 
 entered the room uiipcrceived, then s[)oke : "I 
 was by when your inotlier died, au' the last 
 thing she said to be understood was, 'Birdyfute, 
 you will forgive your father.' "What the dead ha' 
 60 desired must be obeyed, or they dont rest still 
 i' the grave. Janet Saunders, it's no' becoming 
 to mak' ill bluid atween father an' son ; it's what 
 f</u: always tried to liinder." Birdyfute felt re- 
 buked for his unchristian passion, and turning to 
 Osythe, bade her tell him all particulars of his 
 mother's death.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 217 
 
 " What is there to tell ?" replied she, seeing 
 the difficulty of complying with this demand 
 without increasing the resentment she sought 
 to quell ; " her hour was come, and she just 
 moaned her soul away to parson Bohun's prayers. 
 At the last it was given her to fancy you was 
 there, an' she said what I tell you : " Birdyfute, 
 you will forgive your father.' " 
 
 " Only she knew what a long score o' wicked 
 cruelties there was to forgive !" cried Janet, 
 bitterly. " Hard words an' harder blows — aye, 
 he's a strong, bad, remorseless man ; an' you'd 
 best forgive him, Birdyfute, for he's an enemy to 
 fear." 
 
 Up to tins moment the lad had stood with 
 his hand laid on the clay-cold brow of his dead 
 mother, while the great tears rolled silently down 
 his cheeks ; but at those words of Janet's " hard 
 words and harder hlows,''^ he started, and the fire 
 rushed into his face. 
 
 " Blows /" he repeated. " Do you mean that 
 my father ill-used her so infamously as that .^" 
 
 Janet was about to reply, when Osythe sternly 
 raised her hand, " Whisht," cried she ; " whisht 
 — she left a message for you, Birdyfute, hearken 
 to naught else. Ye can't unspeak ane oath, or 
 unstrike ane blow. What has been, has been, an' 
 has gone wi' her to her grave. There let it lie 
 10
 
 218 UAWKSVIETVV. # • 
 
 as she bade you, if you would not break lier 
 rest.-' 
 
 The lad's face was darkling, and his eyes were 
 dry as he passed without another word from the 
 room. Osythe covered the corpse, and said warn- 
 ingly to her companion. " Take heed, Janet, yon 
 ha' dropped that into the heart o' Birdyfute that 
 may tempt him to spill his father's life. I'm 
 misdoubting what that look o' his meant as 
 he went out ; it's ower like the Captain's to 
 please me." 
 
 Janet rushed away after her former nursling in 
 fearful haste, and arrested him at the stair's foot. 
 She held him fast till she had regained her breath 
 to speak, and then entreated him to seek his 
 father's presence no more that night. He under- 
 stood her terror and said. " You need have no 
 fear, Janet, I shall not brawl with him with my 
 mother's corpse in the house. I will not even 
 mention one of the bitter accusations that are 
 surging upon my heart. As far us in me lies I 
 will do her last bidding ; but when the earth has 
 closed over her poor remains we must separate. 
 As father and son we never have been, and never 
 can be to each other in anything but name." 
 
 The captain heard the whispering of voices, 
 and opening the door bade his son come into 
 the parlor • and releasing himself from the old
 
 • 4^ HAWKSVIEW. 219 
 
 woman's tremblingly tenacious grasp, he told 
 her to be at peace for him, and obeyed without 
 any visible displeasure. Yet, when they were 
 again seated opposite to each other, a single glance 
 sufficed to show the father that his son had heard 
 and seen what had converted him into his mother's 
 partisan for life. Affecting a careless unconcern, 
 he took up a book and continued smoking ; but 
 every other minute he raised a stealthy scrutiny 
 to his son's overcast countenance. The silence 
 grew more and more awkward, and at last, de- 
 termining to brave out his position. Captain 
 Vescey flung the volume, of which he had not 
 read a line, noisily upon the table, yawned, 
 dragged his chair closer into the fire, and began 
 to talk. At first Birdyfute was as unresponsive 
 as if he had not heard a word that was spoken ; 
 but presently a remark aroused him from his in- 
 dignant taciturnity. 
 
 " My uncle Loftus here — my mother's brother?" 
 repeated he ; " where is he? I should like to see 
 • him at once." 
 
 '' He is most likely sulking in the room at the 
 other side of the hall. He and I do not pull well 
 together. He has behaved to me like a robber; 
 but perhaps you may make terms with him for 
 yourself. He has no child of his own, and you 
 are his nearest relative, so far as I know. As he
 
 220 UAAYK8VIEW. ^ 
 
 has defrauded you of your inheritance, he must 
 do something for you to start you in life." 
 
 Birdyfute's tlioughts were not running in the 
 same groove as his fathci-'s by any means ; but 
 he longed to know the relative of whom, once or 
 twice during the last time he and his mother 
 were together, he had heard her speak witii a 
 tender regret, as one who would have been a 
 faithful friend both to her and to liim, liad she 
 not rejected his overtures of reconciliation during 
 that luckless crisis of her life when she had re- 
 turned to the j^rotection of her cruel and treacher- 
 ous husband. Quitting his father's presence, he 
 went immediately to the door of the other parlor, 
 and after knocking twice, he was bid to come in. 
 Mr. Loftus rose to meet him rather stiffly ; but 
 his manner softened as he held him by the hand 
 and gazed long into the frank, handsome young 
 face. " You have a look of your poor mother, 
 Marmaduke ; but you are a true Vescey in height 
 and mien — pray God, in nothing else," said he, 
 fervently. 
 
 Mr, Loftus was a high-featured, middle-aged 
 gentleman, quiet and courteous in manner, but 
 with nothing that marked him as Clara's brother. 
 Birdyfute's first impression was one of disappoint- 
 ment ; but as they fell into conversation the 
 feeling rapidly wore oft'. He made bia nephew
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 221 
 
 give liiin a sketch of bis bringing-up from the 
 time that Captain Yescej had removed him with 
 his mother from Cliflend to the present time. 
 The episode of Mr, Warrendar's school at Boothe 
 came iirst on the list, then followed an account of 
 two years at Angers, two at Brussels, and two 
 Coblentz, since which, he had been six months 
 with a military tutor, who took pupils to prepare 
 for the service. 
 
 " You have had a peculiar training for an 
 English boy — it must have destroyed your na- 
 tionality, and made you a young citizen of the 
 world," remarked Mr. Loftus, growing more 
 kindly disposed toward his relative as he listened 
 to hitn. 
 
 " It has not destroyed my longing to be an 
 English soldier," replied Birdyfute. " Perhaps 
 it may serve me as well as if I had had my 
 education at one of our own public schools. My 
 father made no secret of why he sent me abroad 
 — it was to separate me from my mother." The 
 lad kindled into indignation at all the cruel re- 
 collections that name brought before him, and 
 added, impetuously, " it was his choice engine 
 of persecution ; and at last when I found how 
 miserable he could make her through me, I w&a 
 glad to be away from home. He was a harsh 
 tyrant to both of us. I have learnt to hate him."
 
 222 HAWKSVIKW. 
 
 " Lad, lad, hate nobody — hate grows from bad 
 words to bad deeds," said Mr. Lot'tus, startled at 
 the force of untamed passion Birdyfute's counte- 
 nance, even more than his words, betrayed. 
 " Your father has proved him.self a man, hard and 
 unscrupulous; and, I believe in my heart, that 
 he shortened your mother's life ; but it makes me 
 tremble to hear you cr^' out you hate him." 
 
 For a few minutes Birdyfute was silent and 
 sullen ; but when his uncle presently began to 
 speak of her who lay dead in the chamber above 
 them, of what she had suffered, and what she had 
 died, praying, the evil spirit departed out of him. 
 " Since we came away from ClifFend," said he, in 
 a calmer tone, "I have not spent three months 
 with her altogether. About three years since I 
 came home to Otterbourne for a few weeks ; but 
 it wasa wretclied time. !My mother was ill — more 
 in mind than body, perliaps — and my father 
 seemed to take a cruel delight in keeping her in 
 a continual state of fret and exasperation, ^heir 
 quarrels were commonly about myself; and I 
 remember that when the time arrived^ for me to 
 leave honje, I went away without regret. Since 
 then I have never seen my mother till to-night. 
 It is well she left me such a message as she did, 
 fu)-, when I recall her face as she lies in her coffin, 
 my heart burns with rage." The poor young
 
 HAWKSVIKW. 223 
 
 fellow stopped abruptly, dro2:)pecl his face 
 upon his hands and burst inio tears. Kecov- 
 ering himself with difficulty, he presently went 
 on, " We were so happy at Cliffend before he 
 came. My mother talked of my father every 
 day, and every night she made me say a prayer 
 for his safe return. And when he did return, 
 what a miserable change ? She seemed to liave 
 no more a son. I seemed to have no more a 
 mother ! I cannot understand why God let him 
 find us out as he did, or why I was to be the one 
 sent to wa,rn and save him, when he was caught 
 by the tide under the rocks. It was like bringing 
 a wild beast into a sheep fold." 
 
 " Marmaduke, it is my belief that but for 
 Clara's unlucky inheritance, which was a blunder 
 after all. Captain Vescey would never have 
 acknowledged your mother's marriage or your 
 legitimacy. One tangible benefit, therefore, ac- 
 crued to you by his return," said Mr. Loftus, 
 quietly. 
 
 Birdyfute started and colored. "If he had not 
 reclaimed us, then the world might have called 
 me base-born !" cried he bitterly. 
 
 " It inigld. Clara would not have found it easy 
 to prove her irregular marriage ; and, if I re- 
 member her temper aright, the crudest. pang she 
 saffered during the long years of her desertion.
 
 22i IIAWKSVIKW. 
 
 miist liave been tlie dread lest she liud entailed on 
 you an irremediable wrong. You bear honestly a 
 name tliat was noble once ; you may raise it to 
 honor and distinction again, though it has pleased 
 the two last generations who have borne it to trail 
 it sadly in the mire." 
 
 Birdyfute looked miserably depressed and 
 grieved. Mr. Loftus thought he was anticipating 
 the hardships of his future career, unbacked by 
 the inlieritance he had been brought up to expect, 
 and said, in a rather cooler tone than he had yet 
 adopted, "Your father enjoyed Otterbourne law- 
 lessly ; he stripped the house of all the pictures 
 and of every valuable piece of furniture in it, 
 besides clearing the estate of wood. I have been 
 over the place twice, and have determined to sell 
 it in lots. I set no store by the propertj- myself." 
 The young man made no answer, and his uncle 
 wished he had spoken less hardly. Though inly 
 desirous of befriending him, at this moment he 
 refrained from holding out expectations, \thich 
 ultimately he might be disinclined to realise. 
 Tlie lad was probably the genuine character he 
 seemed ; but still he was so like his father in 
 person, that their dispositions might assimilato 
 also, and to give wealili to bolster up iniquity 
 was what Mr. Loftus would never do. But 
 Binlyfnte's hi-art was too full <,t" sdiioW i\>v ivw 
 
 *•
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 225 
 
 ideas of personal interest, such as his father liad 
 suggested, to find any place there at such an 
 hour. He did not differ from the surface coldness 
 of his uncle, and though not a single promise or 
 profession was extended toward him, he felt in- 
 stinctively that he had found one friend. 
 
 Strong as was Mr. Loftus's own aversion to 
 Captain Yescej, in every further reference that 
 was made to him, his words tended rather to 
 soothe than increase young Marmaduke's resent- 
 ment. There was something awful to the gentle 
 temper of poor Clara's brother, in the thought of 
 the unnatural animosity that lay between her 
 husband and her son ; and when they shook hands 
 and parted for the night, his final advice to him 
 was, " Marmaduke, remember your mother's last 
 words; try to forgive your father, and while 
 decency compels you to remain together, strive to 
 live with him peaceably. 
 10* 
 
 ^
 
 226 IIAWKSVIKW. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Ycscey vault in Boscoinbe clinrcli had been 
 opened, and there, side by side ■with Captain 
 Veseey's mother, >vlio had died young and early, 
 Clara's great sorrows and great wrongs were laid 
 to rest. Both church and church-yard were 
 crowded with curious spectators, who eagerly 
 scanned the ehief mourner's dark sardonic coun- 
 tenance, and sympathized even to tears with the 
 sorrow of his son. Roger Bohun, who read the 
 burial service, carried home to Agnes a pitiful 
 story of the lad's grief, which touched her mother's 
 heart to the quick. " lie was always a dear good 
 boy !" cried she warmly. "Roger, I must have 
 him here to cumfoit him." 
 
 1 know not how Agnes contrived to have it 
 iiitin)ated to Birdyfute that she desired to see 
 him ; but he certainly made his appearance at 
 the rectory one morning soun alter breakfast, and 
 Roger and V.W Burton, who knew that woman's 
 counsel comes most benignly to a wounded 8i>irit,
 
 HAWK8VIEW. 227 
 
 soon left them to tliemsclves. In liis mourning 
 he looked tall and manly — so much as to be 
 almost grown out of remembrance, Agnes said : 
 but again and again her eyes filled with tears as 
 some chance word or gesture, or some trick of 
 expression, vividly recalled the merry nut-brown 
 lad who used to come to the curate for his lessons 
 seven years before. In its melancholy gravity 
 his countenance was singularly fine, his eyes 
 were a deep blue, clear and full ; but once or 
 twice as they were talking, their natural light 
 went out, and a passionate gleam like lightning 
 kindled them instead. Agnes listened to his 
 every word with a lively sympathy, to which he 
 could not but be sensible, and the lad showed her 
 all his heart — ^all the bitterness, revenge and 
 hatred which his mother's dying prayer was 
 powerless to stifle. He gave utterance to a de- 
 nunciation so savage and so fierce, in one gust of 
 angry remembrance, that Agnes laid her hand 
 gently upon his, and said, in a grieved, warning 
 tone, " O Birdyfute ! for your own sake, quench 
 this wicked rage!" when he was immediately 
 silent. 
 
 " You must go away from Hawksview. You 
 must leave your father for the present ; it will be 
 safest, best," added she, soon. 
 
 " I intend to do so. Mrs. Bohun, is Mona in
 
 228 IIAWKSVIKW. 
 
 tlie liouse? Let me see her, and get away from 
 tliese black tliou«;lits wliicli put me almost beside 
 myself," said the young man ; and Agnes, eager 
 as himself to change the subject, rang the bell for 
 nurse Jjeste to bring down stairs all her youthful 
 rank and file, to be presented. Mona entered 
 first with all her dignity, in starched white frock 
 and sky-blue sash, and put up her face to be 
 kissed ; Mona always did ])ut up her face to be 
 kissed to anybody she was disposed to like. The 
 boys, cooler and more independent, thrust out 
 their little lists, and after a few minutes of 
 decorum, escajK'd through the ojieii window, into 
 the garden. Mona stayed behind, and presently, 
 by some feat of fascination peculiar to herself, she 
 was found* perched on Birdyfute's knee, beguiling 
 him hito all manner of queer little stories for her 
 amusement. She even stuck a flower into his 
 hair, and tlieu lifting up his face by the chin 
 bade her mannna say if she had not made him 
 look pretty. Marmaduko forgot himself and 
 laughed ; and Agnes thought, and rightly, that 
 there was not much to be fcaied of evil in a 
 mind that could yield so readily to the infection 
 of a child's buoyant, mirthful spirit. 
 
 "You have done me good. AVill you let me 
 come liere again ?" said he, as he was going 
 awav.*
 
 riAWKSviEw. 229 
 
 " As often as you like," replied Agnes, with 
 cordial pleasure. " Come to us every day — 
 whenever you want cheering or refreshing." 
 
 Birdyfute was not slow to avail himself of this 
 permission ; and for several days he might have 
 been found at the rectory more frequently than 
 at Hawksview. Mr. Loftus had returned to 
 Scotland, and the lad needed a strong and daily 
 moral tonic to enable him to endure with filial 
 patience his father's sardonic company. Captain 
 Yescey felt or feigned a sovereign contempt for 
 his son ; he had a caustic wit, which he indulged 
 perpetually at his expense, jesting at his principles 
 and opinions, laughing at his foreign ways, 
 mimicking his rather singular accent, and pro- 
 voking him whenever he could to an outbreak of 
 passionate resentment. 
 
 Osythe Dobbie used to creep into the hall and 
 listen trembling, afraid, as she afterward said, 
 lest something bad should happen when they were 
 quarreling. Birdyfute tried hard to control 
 himself; but his task was often a too difficult one 
 and many there were at this season who overheard 
 angry threats and defiances exchanged between 
 them, which took eventually a terrible significance. 
 Tlie whole neighborhood echoed M-ith stories of 
 what was passing in the cottage on the hill, and 
 with predictions of what would happen *if the
 
 'J,'}<> llAWKbVlEU . 
 
 fjitlier and son contiriiRMl mncli longer to inli:il>it 
 it together. JSquirc Brougli had declined to 
 listen to any proposals for the sale of Ilawksview 
 as illegal, considering the entail, which young 
 Mannadiike was not of age to join in cutting off, 
 so that Caj)tain Vescey found liimself without 
 that sum of ready money on which he had begun 
 to count as almost certain. He therefore loiter- 
 ed on at the cottage, the solitude of which 
 became dail}' more irksome ; indeed, but for his 
 contentions with his son, its stagnation would 
 have been nothing short of intolerable. His 
 chief expectation now lay in the possibility of 
 extracting from Mr. Loftus such a provision for 
 Birdyfute as he might share, and to this end he 
 indited letter after letter to his brother-in-law, 
 who never vouchsafed him any reply whatever. 
 Meantime the yoke on the lad's neck grew too 
 heavy to be borne ; he began to feel that escape 
 from it he must at whatever risk or cost, and a 
 feeling remonstrance addressed to him by Iloger 
 Boliun, on the scandal caused by the publicitj- of 
 liis quarrels with his father determined him to 
 sjjeak out his resolve. The o})portunity offered 
 almost as soon as his mind was made up; it was 
 one evening when they had had even a severer 
 contest than usual, and the had blood of both 
 was xip.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 231 
 
 " I am sick of tliis life !" cried Cirdyfutc, with a 
 passionate sweep of his arm above his head. "It 
 is like living in hell ! You have no other use for 
 me than to make me your butt, and so you must 
 forego that indul<z:ence for the future. I shall 
 not endure this dangerous game at ' Who is the 
 master V any longer." 
 
 ""What will you do, my intrepid son? How 
 will you live?" retorted the Captain with a savage 
 sneer. " What if I will not let you go ? and I 
 won't for I cannot spare my butt — the only 
 amusement 1 have in this dog-hole !" 
 
 " You think to break my spirit as you broke 
 my mother's ; but you will not accomplish it. 
 She loved you, and- 1 never did !" said Birdyfute, 
 defiantly ; " and as for letting me go, you cannot 
 keep me an hour longer than I choose to stay !" 
 Captain Vescey laughed. "I can trust my 
 well-trained boy's sense of duty — he will not 
 forget my paternal office or his mother's com- 
 mand. Besides, yon have not a guinea in the 
 world, and are not quite hero enough to set off on 
 a penniless search after fortune. What has 
 become of your martial vaporing? Are you 
 ready to toss up your cap, accept the sergeant's 
 shilling, and cry ' God save the Queen!' on six 
 pence a-day ?" 
 
 The lad chafed indignantly under this scornful
 
 232 HAWKSVIKW. 
 
 tone ; but he made no reply, and his fiither pre- 
 sently added, in a threatening way, " You are 
 proud of your gcntlenianhood ; take care lest I 
 pull down that high crest of yours, and proclaim 
 you to the world what, by God, you arc — ." 
 
 " Stop !" shrieked Birdyfute, springing to his 
 feet, and turning livid with rage. " What you 
 are going to say is a lie ! — a lie ! and I cast it in 
 your teeth !" 
 
 Again the Captain laughed his taunting laugh, 
 far worse to bear than any violence, and then 
 said, with mocking calm, *' You are Marmaduke 
 Vescey so long as I please, and no longer, though 
 I would not have the information spread beyond 
 you and me at present ; but my marriage with 
 your mother was no marriage at all, and for a 
 most excellent reason — " lie paused and watched 
 the lad witli curious triumphant eye, as if revel- 
 ing in the keen torture that he had inflicted. 
 When he had given his words time enough to 
 sting, he went on with derisive jocularity, "You 
 want to know for what reason — for the best of all; 
 because I had a ftu'mer wife living, who is living 
 yet, and who may claim me any day for aught I 
 know." 
 
 Captain Vescey <7tc? lie, and his lie was but 
 the inspiration of the subtly vindictive moment. 
 Birdyfute was sure of it, althougli it sounded
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 233 
 
 truth like — and the aspersion of his dead mother's 
 honor — the false blot inflicted on his own name, 
 dropped like a spark on gunpowder. For an 
 instant he stood panting, glaring, wild-beast 
 passions tearing at his heart : then he sprang, 
 and the struggle was deadly. The elder man 
 was taken unawares, or his virile strength would 
 ha-ve proved more than a match for the tiger- 
 fierceness of his son. As it was, he was borne 
 to the ground with a crash ; and Birdyfute, with 
 his knee on his chest, and his hands clutching 
 his throat, dared him to repeat the monstrous 
 fable. 
 
 Osythe Dobbie rushed in at the noise, crying, 
 " Help here, or there'll be murder done !" and 
 her son, who was in the kitchen by stealth, 
 come to fetch the broken meats which the old 
 woman freely dispensed to her family, followed 
 her. They tried to drag the lad off; but the 
 Cain-demon in his wild blood was strong ; and 
 their efforts half paralysed by fear, were vain. 
 His grasp on his father's throat tightened instead 
 of relaxing. 
 
 " Are you going to strangle me?" gasped the 
 Captain. " You are my own son ; no doubt of it. 
 
 " Unsay that damnable lie !" cried Birdyfute, 
 hanging his distorted face over his father's. 
 " Unsay it, or "
 
 234 IIAWKSVIF.W, 
 
 " I only meant to try you. 1 was never mar- 
 ried to any woman except your motlier." 
 
 The lad's lips were white, his eyes had a bloody 
 glare in them, as, for a moment, he M'renched 
 the Captain's head from the floor, then dashed 
 it violently down, and relinquished his hold. 
 " Never breathe it again, or I shall forget that 
 your blood is in my veins, and kill you ?" said 
 he, with a savage gesture of ins clenched hand. 
 
 Captain Yescey was evidently cowed. lie 
 rose slowly, and with difficulty ; his great frame 
 shaking from head to foot ; but he looked more 
 dizzied and confused than enraged. A dead 
 silence followed the brief tornado of passion. 
 Young Marmaduke stood staring and heaving 
 M'ith the subsiding violence of his wrath for 
 several minutes, then turned short on his heel 
 and went out into the hall. Osythe Pobbie 
 and her son followed him ; and saw, with relief, 
 that he took his hat and coat from their peg, and 
 j)Ut them on. 
 
 " You're going, an' it's well," said the old 
 woman ; " life isn't safe between you two. 
 AVhere sal you bide to-night? I'll send your 
 clothes after you ; an' whatever you do, don't 
 come back." 
 
 "Send them to I'ootho, directed for me at 
 my uncle Loftus's — I shall go there," was the
 
 HAVVKSVIEW. 235 
 
 reply ; " and send the books in my room home to 
 the rectory, with a message that I am off." 
 
 Osythe opened the cottage door, and looked 
 abroad. "It's a fine night, and the moon's 
 rising," said she ; "you'll go by the wood ? Ila' 
 you any money ?" 
 
 " Enough to carry me to Scotland. Well, 
 Osythe, it has soon come to good-bye again." 
 
 " It has, lad. I wish you better luck than you 
 ha' had since I knew you." They shook hands 
 without more words, and separated. Marmaduke 
 marching off with firm step and head erect, as if 
 the recent conflict had proved to him a latent 
 strength, which would be a competent match for 
 all the foes he need expect to encounter in the 
 future campaigns of the war of life. Osythe 
 watched him out of sight ; then, with a thank- 
 ful ejaculation, closed the door, sent her son 
 back to the kitchen to collect his spoil and be- 
 gone, and herself went into the presence of her 
 master. 
 
 Crptain Yescey was sitting in his chair by 
 the fireside, his cigar-case in his hand, and a 
 very unsuccessful attempt at coolness on his 
 countenance. " So the young reptile has chosen 
 to take himself off," said he, as the old servant 
 appeared. 
 
 " He's gone, an' not a minute ower soon. 1 ou
 
 23C HAAVKSVIiaV. 
 
 may be thankful me an' John was at hand, or 
 worse ud' ha' euiue o' your strite." 
 
 " Pooli, pooh ! Marniadiike's no assassin. Young 
 curs bark lustily, but they fly at the shadow of a 
 kick — he's combative but not destructive ; too 
 much of the mother's milk in him to love the 
 taste of blood yet. No saying what he may 
 come to though I'' The Captain having lighted 
 a fresh cigar looked round the room for his shoot- 
 ing-cap, saw it on the window seat and put it on. 
 
 " "What arc you going to do ? Your'e not 
 going out to-night, surely!" exclaimed Osytlie, 
 in renewed alarm, " you'll never follow him ?" 
 
 " Follow him ! No, I prefer his room to his 
 company at present. But I promised that poach- 
 ing fellow Branker, that I would catch him in my 
 wood before lt»ng, and I'm just in the temper to 
 give him a meeting now. I'll not carry my gun, 
 but oidy the loaded stick ; fetch it from upstairs, 
 Osytlie." 
 
 "Master, if you'll be advised you'll bide at 
 home, one ruftting's enough i' one night." 
 
 i' One ruffling warms the blood for another, so 
 I'll not. be advised ; but on second thoughts it 
 may be as well to take my gun. That Brankor 
 is a dcs])erate fellow, and he -in destructive 
 amongst the game." 
 
 Osythe talked on to gain time, and succeeded
 
 HATVK8VIEW. 237 
 
 by one feint and another in delaying the Captain 
 fall ten minutes, but at last he pushed her im- 
 patiently aside, and laughed at her detected 
 fears. "I am not going to provoke another 
 struggle with my club," said he ; " I don't wish 
 the last of my race to die on the gallows — I shall 
 feel his fingers at my throat for a week — he can 
 take a good grip, but he uses his nails. Stand bv, 
 dame, and let me pass." 
 
 Captain Vescey strode out of the house and 
 down the same path to the wood, as his son had 
 taken half an hour before. When he had gone 
 about a couple of hundred yards, he turned back 
 and shouted out to Osythe, who still stood in the 
 porch, " go to bed, dame, don't wait up for me ; it 
 may be morning when I come home. Leave the 
 door on the latch." 
 
 " Yery well, sir," responded the servant ; and 
 in a few moments more the darkness swallowed 
 him up from her sight. She went into the kitchen 
 soliloquizing: " The lad has had time to get clear 
 away — he walks smartly — there's naught to dread ; 
 but it's a fearsome thing to see them two men 
 quarrel. Father an' son too — right glad I am 'at 
 Birdyfute's away for good ai^ all — we'll may be 
 know what peace means again now. What 
 strange things happen i' t' world, an' noboby 
 heeding."
 
 238 HAWKSVIKW. 
 
 The old woman made herself a comfortable cup 
 of tea to restore her shattered nerves, and sat till 
 near midnight warming herself over the fire ; and 
 as her master had not then returned, she lighted 
 her candle and went to bed, very tired of her vigil 
 and wondering out of which of her master's pos- 
 sessions she could best indemnify herself fur so 
 much overwork.
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 239 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 That same night it happened that Koger 
 Bohuii and Eli Burton were returning from a 
 missionary meeting that had been held at Bootlie. 
 Thej were on horseback, and took the bridle- 
 path across the lields and moor to shorten their 
 ride, the moonlight making the way clear and 
 safe, which it was not on dark nights on account 
 of two or three unfenced quarries on the healh. 
 The road over the moor was marked by great 
 blocks of stone, set up at intervals, with a daub 
 of white paint on the top to render them more 
 conspicuous, and these guides showed for a con- 
 siderable distance in advance, rising out of the 
 black sea of ling and whins. The two gentlemen 
 were riding silently, Eli Burton in front, when a 
 figure of a man appeared at a short distance to 
 the left, coming straight through the heath 
 toward the path. The curate saw hira first, and 
 said, " Is this Marmaduke Yescey ? — it has his 
 air.-' 
 
 " Yes. Running away, I dare wager my head !"
 
 240 nA^\'xsvIE^v. 
 
 replied Eli ; and then, raising liis voice-, lie hailed 
 the traveler, who, as soon as he descried the 
 horsemen had bent his steps so as to avoid them, 
 by striking into the road at a point which they 
 had passed. No answer was returned, so the 
 curate cried out, "Birdyfute, yon are out late to- 
 night ; stop and tell us where you are bound for." 
 This brought the young man to a halt. "I'm 
 bound for Boothe," cried he ; and waving his arm 
 in token of farewell, he marched on. 
 
 " My mind misgives me. 1 don't quite like the 
 look of this," said Roger, tlioughtfulh'. I should 
 like to ride after the boy, and ask him what Jias 
 come to pass. It is his habit to whistle on his 
 way, lie seems agitated and hurried ; and which 
 way has he come ?" 
 
 " lie must have come from the Ilawksvicw 
 wood, and out at Dean's Gap. I do not see any 
 good to be gained by following him. You do not 
 wish him to go back home if he has succeeded in 
 breaking away." 
 
 " No, assuredly ; and we are late already. 
 Agnes will be on the watch for us." The cura^ 
 put his horse in motion again, and they rode faster 
 to make up for the minutes they had lost. 
 
 "It was a (]ii;iittr past ten when we left 
 Boothe; it must be nearly eleven now," Eli re- 
 niurked, as they trotted into Moat. There was a
 
 HAWK8VIEW. 241 
 
 noisy group abont the door of the alehouse, whom 
 the landlord had just turned out ; they were 
 quiet for a moment as the parson rode by, and 
 then their half-quarrelsome merriment broke out 
 louder than before. Roger felt vexed ; he had 
 waged a long and wearisome crusade against 
 beer-bibing in the parish, but with little success. 
 
 " Slews and Branker, as usual," said he ; " and 
 Branker's wife is lying at death's door. She will 
 never rise from her bed again." 
 
 " I did not see Branker. I thought that heavy 
 man by the door post was Matthew Topham," 
 Eli Burton interposed. 
 
 " It might be. I did not give a second look 
 their way ; but I believe it was Branker." 
 
 Roger, however, was mistaken; for just at the 
 entrance of Boscombe Lane they met Branker 
 walking very rapidly and quite sober. He slunk 
 by without speaking, surlily touching his cap ; 
 and the curate observed to Eli, as he did so, that 
 the man must have been out on .one of his 
 poaching excursions, whieli would by and bye 
 bwng him into trouble. It was just a quarter to 
 twelve by the rectory hall clock when they ar- 
 rived at home; both Roger and Eli observed it, 
 and said it was a pretty good night's traveling for 
 their ponies to do nine miles in an hour and 
 a half, especially of such rough road. Agnes 
 11
 
 242 HAWKSYIEW. 
 
 was waiting up to receive them, and when she 
 had lieard the account of the meeting at Bootlie, 
 who was there, and who spoke, and what the 
 speeches were like, Roger told her of their ren- 
 counter on the moor with Marmaduke Yescey. 
 
 "I don't care how he went, so that he is delivered 
 from his father's power I" cried she, " I dare not 
 tell you what catastrophe I feared while tliey 
 were together. Nothing is too dreadful to have 
 happened, with their feelings toward each other." 
 
 " Right, Agnes. Now I know there is an >. 
 anxiety off your mind, and off mine too, for that 
 matter," returned Roger cheerfully. And little 
 imagining the terriLle revelations of the morrow, 
 they all felt as if a difficulty and a danger were 
 taken out of the way. 
 
 Murder ! There had been murder done in 
 Ilawksview wood in the dead of the night ! Two 
 laborei-s, going to tlieir work early in the morning, 
 had found the body lying beside the path — the 
 head beaten in — the face one bruised and broken 
 mass — every feature undistinguishable; but the}'- 
 recognised, in the gigantic frame, the " Black 
 Lord" of the country gossip's tales; and rushing 
 down to Hoat they proclaimed their hideous news, 
 and found reluctant help to carry the corj)8e home 
 to the haunted house upon the hill. All about 
 the ])laco, where tlie murdered man lay, the turf
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 243 
 
 was cut, and the ferns torn, and trampled as if 
 there had been a long and deadly struggle. The 
 Captain's gun lay at some distance, both barrels 
 discharged ; but that plunder had not beeu the 
 object of the manslayer was evident from his 
 purse and watch remaining untouched in his 
 pockets. Dr. Drake examined the body, and 
 gave it as his opinion that the murder had been 
 premeditated, and that Captain Vescey had been 
 attacked from behind by a heavy blow from some 
 blunt weapon, which had not fulfilled its purpose 
 of stunning him ; that he had then turned on his 
 assailant and fired but ineifectually, and dropping 
 his gun had engaged in a hand to hand conflict ; 
 but dizzied by the former blow, he had probably 
 fallen over the roots of the elm, under which he 
 was found, and thus lay in his antagonist's power. 
 Tliat they must have been pretty evenly matched, 
 as regarded personal strength, seemed undoubted 
 from the traces of their struo-o-le. 
 
 AV^ho was the murderer? who was the murderer? 
 A whisper gave the name first; but, ere noon, 
 the whisper grew to a loud execration — it was 
 the murdered num's own son — Marinaduke Ves- 
 cey, the younger. Suspicion pointed at him 
 straight ; and as the fearful quarrel that preceded 
 his flight oozed out through Osythe Dobbie and 
 her son, suspicion in most men's minds was con-
 
 24A HAWKS VIEW. 
 
 verted into a eertaiuty. The story with all its 
 horrible details, came soon to the rectory. Roger 
 Buhun and Ell heard that Birdyfate was suspect- 
 ed, without daring to lift up a voice for him ; but 
 Agnes, with pale cheeks and eyes full of tears, 
 eagerly exclaimed " I will pledge my life on his 
 innocence. He might have struck a fatal blow in 
 his mad rage ; but he is incapable of deliberate 
 assassination !" But Agnes was in a minority of 
 one, against the opinion of Astondale, combined 
 to condemn him. 
 
 The coroner's inquest went closely into the 
 evidence, entirely circumstantial as it was, and 
 returned a unanimous verdict of wilful murder 
 against Marmaduke Vescey, the younger. "War- 
 rants were immediately issued for his apprehen- 
 sion ; and the notorious evil living of Captain 
 Yescey was forgotten in his miserable fate, and 
 the hatred of his murderer. Every threat, every 
 angry and incautious word that Birdyfute had 
 ever uttered, was now remembered against him, 
 and quoted with such additions and enforced 
 meanings as the imaginative echo chose to give. 
 That day will long and Idng be remembered 
 through the valley, where everyone talked and 
 no one worked ; and pilgrimages were made to 
 the scene of the minder, and then to Ilawksview, 
 for the gloomy pleasure of watching the window
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 245 
 
 of the room where the dead man lay and the 
 inquest was sitting. 
 
 Before night it was known that Marmaduke 
 Yescey had been apprehended as he was leaving 
 Boothc ; and the next day he was examined be- 
 fore the magistrates, and committed to take his 
 trial on the charge of parricide. 
 
 " I will never believe he did it I" cried Agnes 
 Bohun, with an outburst of compassionate tears, 
 "Never ! Roger, will you go over and see him ? 
 He must be well defended. O ! Eli Burton, the 
 poor lad has nothing, you must undertake his 
 cause." 
 
 " He might have better counsel than myself; 
 but I will go with Koger and volunteer myself if 
 you wish it ; but 1 must tell you that my own 
 impression against him is strong, very strong," 
 Eli gravely replied. Agnes glanced at her hus- 
 band's face, then at Eli Burton's, and saw that 
 both went with the stream ; but for once she 
 dared to maintain her own opinion against 
 Roger's, and not to maintain it outwardly only, 
 but to be strengthened and upheld by it in her 
 natural sorrow and. anxiety for the lad she had 
 known and liked so long and dearly.
 
 246 HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 CHAPTER Vm. 
 
 Marmaduke Yescey had been removed to 
 Carlisle, and thither journeyed the curate and 
 Eli Burton — charged with many messages of 
 liope and kindness from Agnes — the day after 
 the murdered man had been deposited in the 
 vault of Boscombe church. They found him in 
 a* grave mood, neither sorrowful nor defiant, nor 
 yet anxious, but only chafed by the rigorous 
 confinement to which he was subjected. He 
 scarcely seemed to suppose it necessary to assert 
 his innocence ; and his natural assumption that 
 no one who knew him could for an instant 
 believe him guilty, carried a welcome doubt to 
 the minds of both Roger and Eli. This doubt 
 was still further increased at an interview they 
 afterward had with Mr. Loftus, who had already 
 engaged the highest talent of the bar for his 
 nepiiew's defence, and who was firmly persuaded 
 that he was not cognizant of his father's murder. 
 "With tliis consolation, slight though it was, 
 against the body of evidence arrayed on the
 
 HAWKSVIEVV. 217 
 
 other side, Roger Bohun and his friend returned 
 to Boscombe. Agnes smiled triumphantly : " I 
 .was sure you would change your minds," said 
 she ; " he will be acquitted !" 
 
 But though she believed this firmly, the in- 
 terval until tlie trial came on, was one of most 
 wearing anxiety ; and when it did come, the 
 mental distress she experienced was so intense, 
 that if it had been a child of her own who was 
 in Birdyfute's awful position she could not have 
 suffered more. She accompanied Roger and Eli 
 Burton to Carlisle, and was in court from morn- 
 ing until evening during the whole of the two 
 days and a half that the trial lasted. Miss Sage 
 Booty and Squire Brough were present also, 
 and many other Astondale folk, who were not 
 amongst the cloud of witnesses. When Marma- 
 duke first appeared, he looked much agitated ; 
 his countenance changed repeatedly, his color 
 came and went like a modest young girl's, and 
 on the strength of this emotion two-thirds of the 
 court condemned him as a truculent, cowardly, 
 £elf-convicted criminal ; but Agnes, who never 
 took her eyes from his face, read in it no such 
 signs of guilt, and better physiognomists than 
 herself said it was a fine, handsome, ingenuous 
 countenance, expressive of strong and untamed 
 passions, but altogether clear of craft and nialig- 
 uancy.
 
 ii4S llAAVKBVIEW. 
 
 But the lad's fate depended not on what this 
 person or that person thought of his appearance, 
 but upon the evidence that could be brought 
 for or against him. When the examination of 
 witnesses had gone on for some time, Agnes felt 
 as if a net of false appearances were being 
 drawn gradually around him ; he became con- 
 scious of it himself, and seemed to gather his 
 forces up to watch for a weak place to break 
 through. It was toward the end of the second 
 day that he passed a slip of paper to Eli Burton, 
 with a few penciled words : " It will turn on 
 a question of time — have Osytlie Dobbie recalled 
 to speak to the hour I left Hawksview, and the 
 Boothe innkeeper to the time I reached his house." 
 
 Osythe Dobbie declared that it was just ou 
 the stroke of ten when she shut the prisoner out 
 of Hawksview front door, and the innkeeper at 
 Boothe stated that it was as nearly as lie could 
 remember half-past twelve when he was rung 
 up out of his bed to admit the traveler, who 
 said he had walked from beyond the moor since 
 moon-rise. He looked tired and dusty ; but not 
 to say exhausted. There was nothing suspicious 
 fri his appearance. He ate a hearty supper ; 
 went to bed, saying he should want to break- 
 fast and get away very early in the morning. 
 Between his leaving Hawksview and reaching
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 249 
 
 tlie inn at Bootlie no one had met tlie prisoner 
 except Roger Bohim and Eli Burton. They 
 spoke to the place where they had passed him, 
 and to the hour as nearly as they could. The 
 place was distant about three miles and a half 
 from Havvksview, and about five from Boothe. 
 
 Thereupon ensued a question of walking. 
 Could a man walk three miles and a half, and 
 commit such a murder as had been committed 
 within a single hour ? Four miles an hour was 
 fair walking on level ground. The prisoner, as 
 was in evidence, had crossed the encumbered heath, 
 where his progress must necessarily have been 
 slower than on the high road ; yet, at such a 
 time, he was at such a distance from the scene 
 of the murder. To this it was objected that 
 the hours named were conjectural — nobody ex- 
 cept Osythe Dobbie could swear to an exact point 
 of time — and in this case, a single half, or even 
 a quarter of an hour, was vital in its bearing 
 on the prisoner's guilt or innocence. The father 
 and son after a bitter quarrel had left their 
 home, and gone in the same direction within 
 ten minutes of each other. A witness named 
 Branker stated, on oath, that he had gone up 
 into ITawksview wood to look after some snares 
 that he had set for game, and that he saw 
 Captain Yescey and his son together in that 
 11*
 
 !250 HAWKSVIKW, 
 
 wood ; and that suspecting that they had come 
 out to look al'tor liini, he had hidden hiuiself 
 behind a pheasant shed until they had gone by, 
 when lie had run away, and returned home. The 
 prisoner and his father were talking angrily 
 when he saw them ; they went in the direction 
 of tlie elm tree where the body was found ; and 
 he, the witness, escaped in a contrary direction, 
 which obliged liim to make a circuitous route 
 to get back to Moat. An attempt was made 
 to throw discredit on this man's testimony, be- 
 cause of his known bad reputation ; and because 
 he had himself once stood in the dock, charged 
 with a brutal murder, similar in character to 
 the present one, but which could not be brought 
 home to him. This attempt, however, failed, 
 and rather damaged Birdyfute's case than other- 
 wise. Then as to the instrument with which 
 the deed had been committed, there were 
 suspicious words and circumstances against the 
 prisoner. It was a short, heavy iron bar, jagged 
 and rubt eaten ; and John Dobbie swore to the 
 fuUowinjr convei'safion between himself and 
 Captain Vescey's son. The iron bar was lyiiig 
 on the floor of an out-house, with several vermin- 
 traps and uther rubbibh ; and about a week 
 bffore the murder was committed, whilst John 
 Dobbie was looking amongst them for a trap
 
 HAWK8VIEW. 251 
 
 to take home to catch the rats in his barn, the 
 prisoner came in and asked him what he was 
 about. Then he picked up the bar, and swung 
 it round his head, as if it had been a light switch, 
 and brought it down with a crack upon a block 
 of wood, saying, " if that were your pate, John, 
 I think there'd be no need to repeat the dose !" 
 John replied, " that he believed his skiftl was 
 uncommon thick ; but he wouldn't like it to 
 be tried with that tool, in a hand like young 
 master's." They then fell to talking of games 
 that brought out the muscles, and strengthened 
 them ; and the prisoner plucked off his coat, 
 pushed up his shirt-sleeves, and showed John his 
 arm, "proudlike to let me see what a limb it 
 was for a lad," the witness said. Then the 
 prisoner straightened his right arm and de- 
 fied witness to bend it. Witness tried with all 
 his might, but he could no more bend it than he 
 could bend the iron bar. The prisoner laughed, 
 and said some day it would deal straighter and 
 stronger blows than any it had dealt yet ; he 
 then held it out, looked along it, doubled his fist 
 and shook it, with a wicked look in his eyes; 
 then putting on his coat again, he took up the 
 bar and walked off with it. The next day, while 
 witness was cleaving fire- wood, the prisoner came 
 to him in the yard, and asked him if he had re-
 
 252 HAWKS VIEW. 
 
 moved the iron bar from Avitliiii the house-porch 
 where he had placed it ; witness had not seen it 
 since he carried it away ; witness never did see 
 it again, until a week after the murder, when it 
 was found in llawksview wood, amongst the 
 long grass and ferns, about a dozen yards from 
 the elm tree, where the body of Captain Vescey 
 had 15^en discovered. The examination of this 
 witness closed the case for the prosecution. Few 
 persons were called for the defence ; and a real 
 sickness of heart fell on Agnes as she listened to 
 the speeches of the counsel on each side. Birdy- 
 fute had fuuiid her out; and he might have read 
 the fluctuations of his fate in her face, even 
 if he liad not heard himself first eloquently de- 
 nounced as a cold-blooded, cowardly, midnight 
 murderer, by one gentleman in a wig ; and then 
 pathetically cited as a victim, whose life was 
 falsely sworn away by another. Tlie summing 
 up was, on the whole, against him ; but the judge 
 dwelt carefully on the time between the prisoner's 
 leaving home and reaching Bootlie, as short for 
 the distance he had to walk ; and on his demean- 
 or at the inn, wliich was quite collected and 
 unsuspicious, llien he cited the danming facts 
 of quarrel and threat ; and the positive testimony 
 of tlie man Brauker, who had seen the father 
 and Son together near the fatal spot, and luid
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 253 
 
 heard their voices in contention. He said there 
 had been an attempt made to npset this man's 
 evidence. His character was against it ; but 
 what motive could he have in swearing away the 
 life of an innocent person? They (the jury) 
 must carefully sift the evidence, and convict or 
 acquit on what had been brought before them 
 in that place, without reference to any Imsup- 
 ported suggestions that might have been thrown 
 out. The conversation about the iron bar with 
 the witness John Dobbie was not very important ; 
 it sounded like the bravado of a boy proud to 
 exhibit his strength to a servant who had known 
 him from childhood ; but the disappearance of 
 the bar was suspicious — the jury must consider 
 where the probability lay. Had the prisoner 
 himself removed it from the porch to a conve- 
 nient hiding-place, until such time as he found an 
 opportunity to use it, or had it been carried away 
 by some other person? If the jury believed that 
 the prisoner had purposely concealed the iron bar, 
 and then feigned to have lost it, that would be a 
 strong point against him ; but they must remem- 
 ber that it had never been seen in his possession 
 after he removed it from the tool-liouse. There 
 was another view of this part of the evidence : 
 if the prisoner had designed the bar for a mur- 
 derous use, would he have put it in so conspic-
 
 254 HAWK8VIEW. 
 
 uoiis a place as the poreli through wliich his 
 father passed many tinies daily ? Osythe Dobbie 
 saw it there, and the man Branker saw it there 
 when he was laying down new gravel on the 
 garden walks, the same day as John Dobbie said 
 the conversation between him and the prisoner 
 took place ; afterward it disappeared, and was 
 seen ho more until it was found in the wood, 
 clotted with blood and human hair, near the spot 
 where the murder had been committed. This 
 part of the evidence was weak ; but in support 
 of it they had the positive threat sworn by two 
 wit^iesses, "I will kill you if you do so and so," 
 and the sudden attack of the prisoner upon his 
 father, which might have terminated in murder 
 then, but for the interference of the female 
 servant and her son. Within half an hour of 
 this attack, if the prisoner were guilty, the mur- 
 der must have been accomplished — and within 
 two hours and a half after, he was eating a 
 hearty supper at an inn nine miles ofi", without 
 any of those appearances of disorder and personal 
 distress which might be expected to ensue on a 
 deadly struggle, which ended in a foul murder. 
 The jury must not, however, attach too much 
 weight to unsuspicious appearances, for the nerve 
 and strength exhibited by great criminals in the 
 conccalnient of tlu,'ir crimes, were qnalitics that
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 255 
 
 enabled them to commit them. If they believed 
 that the prisoner had deliberately planned his 
 fatlier's death, and done the murder, as the evi- 
 dence tended to sho^v, then they must convict 
 him ; but if they had any doubts they must 
 acquit him. It was better that many guilty 
 should escape than one innocent man suffer. 
 
 The jury retired to consider their verdict; and 
 after being absent for a considerable time they 
 sent for a plan of the localities. When they 
 finally appeared, amidst the dead silence of the 
 court, their finding was that the murder had not 
 been proven, and they acquitted the prisoner. 
 This verdict had not been anticipated, even by 
 Marmaduke himself, and was received without 
 any token of applause. The judge, after a pause, 
 said it was the only satisfactory conclusion they 
 could have come to. He then addressed a few 
 stern words to the prisoner on the ungoverned 
 violence of his temper, which had brought him 
 fo that place ; admonished him that his sin 
 would yet find him out, though hum'an testimony 
 failed, if he were indeed guilty of the crime for 
 which he had been arraigned, and then ordered 
 him to be discharged. 
 
 " My Lord, I am not guilty of my father's 
 blood," replied Marmaduke, lifting his face up. 
 " He had other enemies besides his son."
 
 256 HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 When he liad spoken he looked toward the 
 place where Agnes had sat tliroughout the trial, 
 Lilt she liad disappeared, and he was sharply 
 commanded by a policeman to "clear out of that 
 and make way for his betters." As he went forth 
 from the court the people fell back and made way 
 for him, gathering their garments closely about 
 them lest they should be defiled by the touch of 
 a murderer, for such, in spite of his acquittal, the 
 popular voice declared him to be. In a few 
 minutes he found himself standing in the winterly 
 sunshine out of doors, dazed, confused, yet with 
 an exultant sense of freedom swelling his heart 
 almost to bursting. AVhat eared lie lor curious 
 gaze and ostentatious repulsion at his presence? 
 He never saw them ? He had escajjed that 
 hateful prison ; he had been delivered from im- 
 minent death, and restored to the possession of 
 real existence. Such a whirl of thoughts and 
 feelings swept over his heart and brain as 
 could not have risen out of any other train of 
 circumstances in human experience. While he 
 was standing thus (piite inobservant of external 
 things, his uncle Loftus took his arm suddenly 
 and drew him away — and not a moment too soon. 
 The mob that would have made holiday at his 
 death liad he l»een convicted, began to gather at 
 liis heels with hiss, yell, and execration. From
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 257 
 
 words they might soon have passed to deeds, but 
 a hack cab dashed up to the pavement, Mr. 
 Loftns hustled his nephew in, and they were 
 driven rapidly off out of sight and hearing of the 
 tumult. Those few moments of mob-hatred and 
 scorn made a man's indignant and resentful heart 
 burn in Birdyfute's breast. He never knew a 
 boy's gay, exultant feelings again. He had 
 stepped over the threshold of life into a world 
 that branded him a murderer, where every 
 hand and every voice would be raised against 
 him. 
 
 '' England is no home for you, Marmaduke, 
 while the mystery of your father's death is un- 
 cleared up," said Mr. Loftus, sadly. " You must 
 change your name, and start afresh in a new 
 world." 
 
 "The sooner the better," was the proud and 
 sullen reply. Mr. Loftus looked in the young 
 man's face, and saw his eyes glittering ; he was 
 touched, and laid his hand gently upon that Avith 
 Avhich Marmaduke convulsively clutched the side 
 of the vehicle. 
 
 "It is very hard, lad; but 'tis your only 
 chance," said he, with shaking voice. " My heart 
 warmed to you when I first saw you ; but we 
 can't live together now. You can't live where 
 everybody avoids you. You heard those yells
 
 258 HAWK8VIEW. 
 
 — that's the general feeling about the matter. 
 Mrs. Buhnn is persuaded of your innocence and 
 so am I ; but we are only two against the world." 
 No more was said until they reached the inn. 
 There Roger Bohun, Agnes and Eli Burton were 
 ■waiting to see liini, and say a few words of good- 
 bye. It was to Agnes he oould best bear to 
 listen ; she drew him aside and spoke so kindly 
 and soothingly, that the evil spirit of anger was 
 obliged to keep silence before her. " You will 
 leave us all, Birdyfute, because it is the best for 
 you, said she, holding his hand, and peering 
 sweetly into his clouded eyes ; but 1 know this 
 liand is clear of blood,- and I look forward to the 
 day when all the Avorld shall know it too. Live 
 in hope of that day that you may come* back to 
 us, my dear — live as your mother would have 
 wished you to live — remember always that you 
 are a Christian and a gentleman. Let suspicion 
 say what it will, I shall not forget you. Never 
 hold back from claiming my friendship if you 
 return to us, or from seeking our counsel if it can 
 in any measure help you." She pressed his hand 
 warmly and hurried away; and a few minutes 
 after he saw her get into SipiireBrough's carriage 
 and drive off. lie turned from the window and 
 approached his uncle, who was selecting sev- 
 eral bank notes fro)n his pocket-book. " Let
 
 HAWKSVIKW. 259 
 
 us eat together, uncle, before we separate," said 
 he. " It is not dark yet ; when it is I will go. 
 You are right, England is no longer a home 
 for me." 
 
 " I will look after Hawksview for you against 
 you come home. You have an empty purse now ; 
 but there are the means of a beginning of life for 
 you. You must write to me wherever you are. 
 Gather up the notes. Is there anything you 
 would like to have done at Hawksview ?" 
 
 Marmaduke did so. " Yes ; have the cottage 
 razed, the trees cut down, the garden obliterated. 
 Blot the place out of the map of Astondale ; it is 
 accursed. Turn it into a farm, or let it run wild, 
 I care not. I shall ruever see it again." 
 
 " Wofild you like to sell it to Squire Brough ?" 
 
 "I cannot sell it. There is a clause in the 
 deeds forbidding it. Only, if the Yesceys were 
 extinct, it lapses to the crown — it is worth little." 
 
 " It is a name. Yescey of Hawksview was 
 once synonymous with all Christian and courtly 
 virtues." 
 
 " Once I might have said that so it shall be 
 again ; but ray chance has passed from me," re- 
 plied Marmaduke, bitterly. 
 
 When the night fell, the uncle and nephew 
 parted, Mr. Loftus to return to his solitary home,
 
 260 HAWK8VIEW. 
 
 Marmaduke Yescey to float adrift upon the sea 
 of life, cast loose from every auclior of youthful 
 love and youthful hope.
 
 iirrt ilu MUM.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 263 
 
 CHAPTEK I. 
 
 'Ti8 no uncommon thing for people to exclaim, 
 in desultory moments, " I wonder what we shall 
 all be doing ten years' hence ?" Ten years is such 
 a long time to look forward to ; but when they 
 are gone, memory flies back to some event beyond 
 their remotest limit, and our cry is, "It seems 
 to have happened only yesterday !" Yet, when 
 we begin to take to pieces the interval, or to 
 examine the changes that have been working- 
 all around us, while those ten years were passing 
 silently from us, we perceive that the way is 
 distinctly marked ; and that every individual day 
 has had its mission, and fulfilled it ill or well. 
 
 Even a careless observer would have seen, that 
 during the ten years which had elapsed since the 
 murder of Captain Yescey of Ilawksview — an 
 epoch from which the country folks dated in 
 preference to any other — a great and important 
 revolution had been wrought in the parish of 
 Boscombe-Magna. Squire Brongh's house re-
 
 26-i HA^VKSVIEW. 
 
 niained as of old; but the ehurcli had been re- 
 built in very respectable, ecclesiastical taste, and 
 the rectory had been enlarged, the pretty bay- 
 windowed drawing-room, with its outside verandah 
 of creepers remained ; but there were handsome 
 apartments beyond, which better accommodated 
 themselves to the present rector's family. Tiiere 
 M-as a total transfofuiation at Moat ; and Wha'd- 
 ha'-thowt-it? had disappeared from the face of 
 the earth. The former village was represented by 
 two straight rows of model cottages, with gardens 
 in front and rear; a new school-house, and a 
 mutual improvement society's room and library, 
 over which Miss Sage Booty held only a nominal 
 presidency. The ale-house was there still ; but 
 it looked the least thriving concern in the place, 
 and the landlord might have been obliged to shut 
 it up long since, probably, but for the proiits of 
 his little farm and market-garden. 
 
 These changes had been wrought under the 
 influences of the new rector, the Honorable and 
 Reverend Roarer Bohun. The Reverend An- 
 gustus Blaydes had been apoplectically gathered 
 to liis fathers at his villa near Florence ; and 
 the bishop of the diocese immediately presented 
 the living to the hard-working curate, who had 
 now lived in the parish altogether nineteen years. 
 Besides being rector of Boscombc, he was also
 
 HAWKSVIliW. 265 
 
 canon residentary of Borehara-cum-Minster, whero 
 be went for three months annually, and which 
 made a handsome addition to his income. The 
 head of the noble house of Bohun bad also 
 restored its customary allowance to the youngest 
 son ; and submitted to a reconciliation under 
 stress of circumstances, and a longing desire to 
 behold the only grandsons it had pleased provi- 
 dence to vouchsafe to his prayers — Tristan, Harry, 
 and Louis. 
 
 Tristan had just joined his regiment as ensign ; 
 Harry had been afloat nearly a year in the 
 Queen's service; and Louis, called, from his 
 exceeding gravity and solidity of deportment, 
 "The Archbishop," was preparing for college 
 at Borehara-cum-Minster. Mistress Mona had 
 just reached her twentieth birth-day, unwedded 
 and unwooed — a circumstance which puzzled 
 Agnes exceedingly, for Mona was ver}? beautiful, 
 very spirited, very amiable ; and her mother never 
 forgot that before she was twenty her two eldest 
 children were born. Mona had cousins married, 
 not half so charming as herself, who would some- 
 times ask her if she meant to die an old maid ; 
 though anything less suggestive of that chilly 
 idea than her bright and blooming face, could not 
 possibly be conceived. " Die an old maid ? Cer- 
 tainly not," she used to reply, with an arch laugh. 
 12
 
 2(56 IIAWKSVIEW, 
 
 "It is mj impression that I am saving np for 
 somebody nice, and I shall abide in })atience until 
 he finds me out. I should not like at all to 
 Bueceed Miss Sage Booty, though she is a dear 
 old soul, because I can see with my eyes, and feel 
 with my heart, how much happier my mamma is." 
 Such were Mistress Mona's views on th6 great 
 matrimonial theory. She was ver}-^ candid, and 
 allowed to all her young female relatives that 
 she had never enjoyed the sublime triumph of 
 refusing an offer, because no gentleman had ever 
 proposed to her. They rather despised her for 
 this ; but Hatty Lennox, who was good-natured, 
 and sharp-witted, though she adored admiration, 
 averred that it was not and could not be, true — 
 somebody must have fallen in love with her, yes, 
 9ver and OA'cr again ! Mona looked guilty, and 
 repeated her first asservation, whereupon Hatty, 
 with an acuteness that would have done credit to 
 a detective, exclaimed, " You have never had to 
 say ' No,' because you can a<it ' No ' in such a 
 ^ay that no man, who is not a blind bat could 
 mistake you ; and no man who is not an infatuated 
 goose would plunge head over heels into certain 
 refusal. I know ever so numy pe()])le who like 
 you, and who would do more if you would let 
 them ; but, I suppose, you don't think flirting an 
 innocent amusement."
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 2tJ7 
 
 "Well, think I can't see that next to the 
 pleasure of saying ' Yes,' must be the ecstasy of 
 saying ' No' " remarked a yoimg nn-come-out 
 cousin, a born coquette, and a budding beauty 
 of great promise. She was Lady Alicia Bohun's 
 daughter. 
 
 Mona did not think anything about flirting ; 
 she never flirted, and everybody liked her. Tris- 
 tan, Harry, and Louis agreed unanimously upon 
 one point — none of their girl cousins were to be 
 compared to their sister Mona. Look how beauti- 
 ful she was ; and when did anybody ever see her 
 cross ? She was as generous as July sunsliine, 
 and clever ! — why, she knew everything. The 
 boys might well say so. Who was it elucidated 
 early lessons? Who was it smoothed fraternal 
 squabbles? Who w^as it that had a ready and 
 deft pair of hands when they were as helpless as 
 kittens ? " Bless her !" as midshipman Harry 
 said, " she's a clipper of a sister !" 
 
 Agnes loved her daughter fondly. Grievous, 
 most grievous would a separation have been to 
 her ; but the maternal pride was rather hurt at 
 seeing so much beauty, grace, and pleasantness 
 unsought, and apparently unappreciated. She 
 would have liked to see Mona worthily courted 
 and worthily won ; but once or twice, when she 
 had detected suspicious symptoms in any guest.
 
 208 IIANYKSVIKW. 
 
 and had let her own countenance shine thereupon, 
 the jonng maiden had become frigid as a polar 
 winter, until these tender germs were effectually 
 nipped and killed, when the £i-ostiness thawed 
 gradually into a sisterly amity. So it came to 
 pass that Mona had many devoted friends, but 
 no lover ; for she never mortified any man, and 
 never encouraged one either. 
 
 Agnes once whispered a little complaint to 
 Hoger, when a promising bloom had been prema- 
 turely pinched oflf ; but the Rector laughed, and 
 said he was glad Mona was in no haste to leave 
 home, for when she went, he must have a 8econ.d 
 curate. I know not whether she was accessory 
 to the translation of two gentlemen wlio had 
 served the church and her father in that capacity, 
 but Miss Sage Bootic, whose bosom in her later 
 years opened to clerical woes, gave her credit for 
 it ; but we have Mona's word that she had never 
 received an offer, therefore she could not have 
 bliglitcd the curates, and probably somebody else 
 ,wa8 responsible for tliat iniquity. 
 
 Mona had reached the mature age of twenty 
 without having experienced one pang of the ten- 
 der passion, or even having fancied herself in the 
 least touched tliereby. Perhaps she was rather 
 cold ; perhaps she was ratlier scornful, or proud, 
 or indifferent, or bad to please; perhaps slie had
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 2G9 
 
 not had opportunities; or again, as she herself 
 suggested, perhaps she was saving for somebody 
 nice, who liad yet not turned up. 
 
 Let us then leave the conjectural, ^nd regard 
 the actual Mistress Mona Bf^liun, the sunshine 
 of Boscombe Rectory, the prettiest and pleasantest 
 young woman in the parish, godmother to many 
 babies, school-examiner, church-organist, and 
 choir-leader, papa's amanuensis, mamma's spec- 
 tacles, brother's pride, and everybody's favorite 
 — Mistress Mona" Bohun, sitting at the writing- 
 table of the old drawing room, with intent face 
 bent over her desk, making a fair, legible copy 
 from several sheets of blotted manuscript that lie 
 strewn at her left-hand — the manuscript of that 
 now well-known work, " Bohun's History of the 
 Christian World." Now, a truly beautiful woman 
 is a rarity. The sex are generaly best described 
 as iiretty, handsome, interesting, pleasing, ordin- 
 ary, or very plain ; but a woman whom every- 
 body agrees to pronounce heautiful, is — I repeat 
 it emphatically — a rarity. Such a woman was 
 Mistress Mona Bohun. 
 
 There was plenty of sunshine in the room ; but 
 where she sat, was shade. The clear, perfect 
 outline of her face was not hidden, nor yet hardly 
 exposed, by any fantastic arrangement of her hair, 
 which, rippled by a natural wave, dark or golden
 
 270 nAWKsviF.w. 
 
 as the light caught it, was rolled back in loose 
 braids, and knotted low on her neck. There was 
 a cool morning bloom npon her cheek, a subdued 
 lustre in Iftr large pure violet blue eyes, a 
 maidenly candor 9(\ the tender rose of her lips. 
 She was tall, but not too tall ; slight and shapely, 
 gcaceful in repose, agile and swift in action — a 
 woman, pure and siwiple, not a suspicion of the 
 ffoddess about her. 
 
 This description is miserably inadequate, but it 
 must pass. Let the reader vivify it with his own 
 ideal — he can conceive of nothing more lovely, 
 nothing more loveable, than Mona Boliun, , 
 
 If, iuiitead of being a comfortable church digni- 
 tan'. her father had continued a poor curate, she 
 would have kneaded the household bread, brushed 
 the carpets, mended the family stockings, made 
 her brother's shirts, and thrown all her young 
 energies into her work, without ever proposing to 
 herself a discontented thought ; but fortune had 
 raised her above the contemplation of daily needs, 
 aiid up to this date, sickness and sorrow had 
 passed her by, as something charmed against their 
 miiversal touch. 
 
 The task now before her was one tliat would 
 occupy her full three hours, and she applied 
 her:5elfto it, with the matter-of-fact diligence of a 
 copying clerk. The long slender white fingers
 
 HAWKSVTEW. 271 
 
 moved at even pace along the lines. JSTever a 
 blot, rarely an erasure, still more rarely an omis- 
 sion. It was manuscript that a compositor would 
 delight to put in type. When she was about 
 midway at her work, Agnes came in and looked 
 over her for a little while, resting one of her fair 
 hands on the girl's shoulder. 
 
 " It does not tire your eyes, Mona ! Pray, write 
 no more at a time than papa asks," said she, with 
 maternal anxiousness. 
 
 "No, mamma." Mona turned her rosy lips 
 and touched her mother's hand. 'Twas a slight 
 action ; but it spoke her caressing natiire, 
 and showed how perfect was the love that sub- 
 sisted between them. Agnes still lingered, and 
 presently Mona looked up at her. 
 
 Anj'thing the matter, mamma?" she askedj 
 "Any more news of Tristan. Ah! there is, there is!" 
 
 " Yes, love. His regiment is ordered to the 
 East. We expected it, you know. Immediately 
 too ; and j^our grandpapa wants us to go to Castle 
 Bohun to see him, as he will not get more than 
 three or four days leave." 
 
 "It does not trouble jon, mamma; does it? 
 Tristan will be overjoyed," said Mona, rising and 
 putting her arm round hermother's waist, and kiss- 
 ing her when she saw a tearful dimness cloud her 
 eyes.
 
 272 HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 "It ouglit not to trouble me, Mona. Tliere, 
 there, wo must not be foolish. Finish your 
 writing, and then come to me." Agnes extricated 
 herself, and put her daughter oif with a smile, 
 and then Mona resumed her pen. 
 
 By twelve o'clock the sheets were filled, and 
 gathering them together, she carried them to the 
 study, singing one of Jier favorite spirited songs 
 that set the heart beatinof fast to hear it. Agnes 
 felt her imagination fired by it, as she listened 
 with brighter hopes for her soldier son. Mona 
 knew the cheering efiect it would have, and con- 
 tinued it until she was seated in the drawing room 
 with her brother's letter in her hand ; and even 
 then, she went on, though rather more softly : 
 
 "March, inarch, Ettrick and Teviotdale ; 
 
 Why my lads, dinna yo march forward in order? 
 March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale, 
 
 All the blue bonnets are over the border. 
 
 Many a banner spread, flutters above your head, 
 
 Many a crest tiiat is famous in story ^ 
 Mount and make ready, then, sous of the mountain glen, 
 
 Figlit for the Queen, and the old Scottish glory." 
 
 "We shall go into Kent, mamma, shall we 
 not?"phe asked, bringing her reading and her 
 Bong to an end at the Haine moment. 
 
 "Papa*lias not seen the letter yet; we must 
 licar what he says. I should liave liked Tristan 
 here, all to ourselves," re})lied Agnes.
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 273 
 
 " Yes, mamma ; but half the time of liis leave 
 would be spent on the road coming and going. 
 Grandpapa would be so disappointed too, if he 
 did not pay him a visit. Then if we go into the 
 south we may see him embark. Mamma, speak 
 for our going." 
 
 " Leave me to think it over, and go to the Moat 
 House, dear ; Miss Sage Booty will want to hear 
 all the news. You might carry the letter with 
 you ; but brin^ it back. Papa will not be home 
 from Boothe till evening, too late for to-day's 
 post ; but I will write to Tristan a line now, or 
 he will be put out. To-morrow we will decide — 
 I think it will be best to go." 
 
 "Yes, mamma, I'm sure it will. Mammie 
 (Miss Sage Booty) will miss him, and that is a 
 pity. I must comfort her with visions of glory. 
 Darling, you are not to fret. It will do Tristan 
 good to see some lighting — you are not to think 
 of wooden legs and empty sleeves, but of stars 
 and garters. Mamma, I don't like to see you so 
 sad." Mona patted her mother's hand fondly ; 
 but there was a mist in her own eyes too; 
 
 " I shall cheer up by and bye — now do run 
 away and let me write my letter." Thus impera- 
 tivel}'- admonished, she only lingered one more 
 minute to press another longer and tenderer kiss 
 on her mother's cheek, and then took herself off. 
 12*
 
 274: UAWKSVIEW. 
 
 Miss Sage Booty was over licad and ears in 
 business vrhcn Mona arrived at the old Moat 
 House, and communicated her intelligence. 
 
 "Every tiling comes at once, I do thinlc !" 
 ^ricd she, leaving a pestle and mortar, with 
 wliich she had pounded herself into a high fever, 
 and dropping wearily upon the sofa. "Tristan 
 is going out to the Crimea. Of course, that is 
 he luck / bring him. If he had been anyone 
 else's godson, he might have walked calmly up 
 the ladder of promotion, without ever getting 
 witliin eyeshot of an enemy." 
 
 " But that would not have suited Tristan ; we 
 must have one bit of glory amongst us." 
 
 "Glory, stuff! Piper, please to go on pound- 
 ing that mixture. I must tell you, Mona, my 
 dear, I was in distress before you came, and 
 little needed this news about my boy. ' When 
 sorrows come, tliey come not single spies, but 
 whole battalions.' Yes, Mona, t])at they do; 
 Solomon must have been in his wisest mood 
 when he said that. Solomon — let me see, was it 
 Solomoir or Sliakspoare — Fm sure I forget which ; 
 I must be faking leave of my memory. I've 
 lost my best patient in all Moat-«-old Jerry 
 Frouston's gone ; such a mild, guidable old man, 
 and faithful to the last to Globb — tliat excellent 
 ppecific, my dear, to which your mother has such
 
 HAWKSVIEW, 275 
 
 an unaccountable antipathy. Piper reckons that, 
 during the three and twenty years that he has 
 taken it, he must have swallowed as much as one 
 thousand seven hundred and ninety-seven bottles, 
 or a bottle and a half a week. 
 
 " What an enormous quantity ! And did it 
 never cure him ?" asked Mona, innocently. 
 
 " Cure him ! my dear ; there was nothing the 
 matter with him but wickedness and bad temper, 
 but he's gone now." 
 
 " He cost my mistress in the specific, two 
 hundred and twenty-four pounds, twelve shillings 
 and sixpence, for it was half-a-crown the bottle ;" 
 interposed Piper, desisting from her pounding, 
 and clasping her wrist tenderly ; " I say, 'tis ex- 
 travagant in a poor man to drink so much physic 
 — a bottle a year's enough." 
 
 " It did not come out of your pocket. Mistress 
 Piper," retorted her patroness, sharply ; " and 
 did not he always say that his stomach felt to 
 want it. Did he not tell me it was like a warm 
 lining to him ? S]:)eak respectfully of him, now 
 he's departed, if you please." 
 
 Piper looked highly scornful, but tightened 
 her lips and held her peace, while Miss Sage 
 Booty went on. " But I have not yet got to the 
 end of my chapter of troubles; that fellow, 
 Branker, has contrived to catch his own hand in 
 
 /
 
 27«> HAWKSVIliW. 
 
 a fox-trap, and smash it horribly — Drake wants 
 to take it off, but he won't submit — and just at 
 this crisis to think that I should be out of Globb. 
 I don't know wlien such a thing has happened 
 to me before. Piper, do go on pounding ! We 
 arc trying to make a substitute for it until the 
 next case comes down from London. I believe I 
 have found out the receipt all but one ingredient." 
 
 " That will be a great saving of expense, I 
 should think," suggested Mona. 
 
 " O! dear, no, Miss Mona, that it won't," cried 
 Piper, defiantly. " Xothing will my mistress 
 have used but the very best French brandy." 
 
 "Do you suppose I want to poison people?" 
 •said Miss Sage Booty. " Would I condescend to 
 offer distilled turnips and potatoes? Far be it 
 from me to use such impositions. That is the 
 specific, Mona. Medicines are always made with 
 pestle and mortar. I wish you would taste it, 
 dear, and tell me if you think it is right." Mona 
 begged to decline, on the plea that she had to 
 walk home, and she was afraid of her head. 
 
 " Oh ! there is nothing to hurt you in it. It is 
 only caraway seeds and cognac. I wonder what 
 else Globb uses." Mona suggested ♦water, and 
 Piper seized on the parsimonious idea with avid- 
 ity. "Water it is," cried she. "Water, and 
 nothing else, unless it bo treacle." 
 
 \
 
 HAWK8VIEW. 277 
 
 "I don't think our attempt to counterfeit it is 
 lawful, so I shall only dispense a little of this to 
 Branker, to keep him from sinking ; but I will 
 write to-day, and order a whole case of a dozen 
 quart bottles to be sent to Tristan. He may find 
 it a real comfort." 
 
 "I think Tristan would prefer your Globb, 
 Mammie," said Mona, laughing. " He hates any 
 thing with the name of medicine." 
 
 " "Well, then, I'll send him some of that golden 
 brandy that my poor nephew Augustus brought 
 over the last time he came to see me. He must 
 take it to keep out the cold. Poor, dear boy ! 
 And where is he going ? Mona, I wish you could 
 think of something else for me to give him. Does 
 he want a horse? Piper, pack me a box, and PU 
 go to Canterbury to see him myself, and find out 
 what he wants." 
 
 " I don't think he wants any thing, Mammie, 
 you have been so generous to him already." 
 
 " You are like your mother, my dear ; she 
 always liked to keep him short of hats and coats 
 when he was a baby. I insist upon his wanfing 
 something. I know, from Augustus Bladyes, that 
 he must want many things. Augustus always 
 did. I look upon him as my eldest son. Pve 
 left him all my property in my will. Why can- 
 not I be allowed to indulge him in my lifetime?"
 
 278 UAWKSVIEW. 
 
 Miss Sage Booty looked liiglily affronted, as if 
 she suspected Tiistan's family of conspiring to 
 defraud liim of the benefits that slie thirsted to 
 bestow. She was a generous crotcliety old soul, 
 and her love for her god-child had develoi)cd her 
 best points. 
 
 Mona soon smoothed down her ruffled quills, 
 and brought her round to a state of amiable com- 
 posure, in which she left her, pounding the 
 caraway seeds and cognac, whicli Piper had 
 triumjjTiantly drowned in a copious infusion of 
 spring water. Branker would have a much better 
 chance of successfully combating his inflammatory 
 symptoms if dosed with this amateur specific, than 
 he would have done if the original Globb hud 
 been exhibited in his case. 
 
 As Mona went through tlic vilage of Moat, she 
 saw Dr. Drake's gig standing at the injured man's 
 cottage door, and was told by a woman who came 
 out that he had consented at last to allow his hand 
 to be taken off, which would make him a crip])le 
 for lije. It was his right hand ; and how he was 
 curbing and swearing with the pain. The girl 
 hurried by the house, for she could hear the 
 hoarse, screaming voice, which sounded like that 
 of a delirious person, and all her nature recoiled 
 from tlic repulsive and brutal character of thin 
 man.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 279 
 
 When she reached home, she found her mother 
 calm again. Her letter to Tristan was written ; 
 and her mind had stayed itself upon the promise 
 of God, " As thy day is, so shall thy strength be. 
 The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath 
 are the everlasting arms."
 
 2js0 hawks view. 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 Roger Boiicn had got back from Bootlie, and 
 promptly settled that they should all go to Castle 
 Bohun on the following Monday and regulate 
 their after-niovemcnts by Tristan's. If his regi- 
 men* sailed from Portsmouth to Portsmouth they 
 would follow; or if from Dover to Dover they 
 would go. 
 
 " I hope our ghostly protectress will acccompany 
 him with her invisible shield," said Mona. The 
 rector looked very grave for a moment or two, 
 then smiled cheerfully at his wife, and began to 
 talk of something else. 
 
 Dinner was just over, and they were grouped 
 cozily round the fireside when a servant etitered 
 hastily, and said that a messenger had come from 
 Moat to beg the rector to go over immc^diately to 
 Branker's; he was almost mad to see him, and 
 he could not live over the night. Roger Bohun 
 never sent his young curate on such an oflice as 
 this, or there would have been temptation enough
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 281 
 
 to do so now, for the night had closed in wet and 
 cold, and he was already tired with his long ride 
 to and from Boothe. Mona made him wear a 
 plaid over his coat, and dismissed him with a kiss, 
 and a promise that tea should be all ready for 
 him on his return. 
 
 "O mamma, these must be trying scenes for 
 papa !" said she, standing with reflective face 
 before the fire when he was gone. "What can 
 he say to Branker? They seem to send for the 
 clergymen as if he could save them when they 
 are dying — these bad men. Do you think it is 
 true that he did murder that gamekeeper, as 
 Osythe Dobbie says ? He has an awful counte- 
 nance ; 1 was always afraid to look at him. Is 
 hell what such as he fear , I wonder ? Is it for 
 such as he it is prepared ?" 
 
 " Mona, the Bible nowhere says that hell was 
 jyi'cpareclt for man," replied Agnes, seriously. 
 " Tliere are fearful punishments denounced 
 against the M'icked which I cannot explain, and 
 which I dare not explain away ; but we must 
 prepare them for ourselves — we must reap what 
 we sow. Let us hope that this man may have a 
 longer day given him to repent of his guilt, if 
 there is, indeed, blood on his right hand." 
 
 Once out upon the road, the rector, with his 
 liat pressed down firmly upon his brows, walked
 
 2 82 HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 rapidly forward. Tlie rain came down slantwise 
 full in Ills face, sliarji and stinging almost as liail. 
 It was a dai-k niglit ; and but that he knew every 
 foot of the ground he had to traverse, every soft, 
 boggy place, every-decply-broken rut, and every 
 obstructive heap of stones flung down at random 
 in the choice Astondale method of mending the 
 roads, he would scarcely eveihave got to Moat at 
 all. On reachincr the cottage where Branker 
 lived he found a group of idle people, notwith- 
 standing the inclement weather, crowding round 
 the door, and when lie entered he saw, to his 
 astonishment, Miss Sage Booty sitting at tlie 
 bed side, writing from Branker's dictation. She 
 looked very sick, and struggled to look dignified, 
 but it would not do. Tlie moment the rector 
 apjieared she dropped the pen, and said, " Here, 
 Mr. Bohun, 'tis Branker's confession, you must 
 fiiii-h it, for I cannot bear this any longc^, I can't 
 indeed !" 
 
 Dr. Drake was leaning against the chimney- 
 piece, regarding the clammy visage of the dying 
 man with disgust. Branker himself seemed only 
 intent on getting his task over, lest he should 
 leave it incomplL'te. lie was a i)owerfully built 
 num. but liis flesh was wasted from hiui. and his 
 j)re8ent ai»i>earance was revolting in the extreme, 
 for an expression f»f p;iin contorted his mouth 
 
 Ji
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 283 
 
 into a sardonic grin. He followed Miss Sage 
 Booty's retreating fignre with eyes that moved 
 in a stiff ghastly way, like the eyes of an autom- 
 aton, until she passed through the doorway, and 
 then he turned them on Eoger. 
 
 " Branker was detailing the murder of Lord 
 Foulis's gamekeepeer when you came in, Mr. 
 Bohun," said Dr. Drake, abruptly. 
 
 " Yes — and when I had made sure he was 
 dead I flung him into the pit-hole. There had 
 been rain, and it was well-nigh full of water. 
 Write that down, parson," said the ruffian. 
 "This hand that the doctor cut off this morning 
 was the hand that done it. What says the scrip- 
 ture ? ' If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off 
 and cast it from thee ' " 
 
 The rector checked his blasphemous use of holy 
 writ with an imperative gesture. "Go on with 
 your coafession," said he, seating himself in the 
 place which Miss Sage Booty had* vacated. 
 Branker took a silent fit which lasted a con- 
 siderable time. 
 
 " Have you anything more to say. If you have, 
 let it be said quickly," urged Dr. Drake, who 
 was impatient to be gone from a scene where he 
 could do no good. " You killed Robin, and that 
 we all knew before you made a virtue of confess-
 
 28i HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 "I may live ; I may get better yet," muttered 
 the man. " 1 dDii't feel like dying. "What should 
 1 put my neck in the halter fur ?'' 
 
 ''There'8 another murder on his conscience," 
 whispered the surgeon. lie was tried and ac- 
 quitted for the gamekeeper, you know.'' 
 
 The rector nodiled, and signed the other to be 
 silent. lie was intently watching Branker's 
 countenance, and the inaudible murmurs of his 
 purple lips. There was a swealing tallow candle in 
 the rooni, which threw an unsteady flare upon the 
 bed and its occupant. First one, and then another 
 of the curious folks outside, bpening the door a 
 few inches to see what was going ou within, the 
 flame wavered in the current of air, and at last, 
 in a stronger gust than usual, it was blown out 
 altogether. In the sudden darkness that ensued, 
 Ih-anker sprang up with a wild yell of terror. 
 "Not yet, not yet; I'll coniess the other!" 
 shrieked he. " Parson, hi me feel your hand." 
 Some of the women who lieard the cr}' ran home 
 stopping their ears, and declaring that the devil 
 had passed into the house and claimed his own. 
 l>y dint of talking it over afterward, they per- 
 suaded themselves that they had actually seen 
 liim ill the shape of a winged l)east. 
 
 There were a few half-burnt sticks on the 
 hearth, and Dr. Drake quickly blew them uito
 
 UAWKSviiiw. 285 
 
 a flame. Having relit the candle, he took the 
 precaution of fastening the door to avoid a re- 
 ])etition of the accident, when the more daringly 
 inquisitive applied themselves to watch through 
 the uncurtained window. 
 
 " Branker, that fearful cry of yours told us that 
 there is yet another secret crime on your unhappy 
 soul," said Roger Bohun, solemnly. " Speak ; 
 purge your conscience by full confession, and 
 then seek your peace at God's hands, if haply you 
 may find it." 
 
 The miserable man still showed a strange re- 
 luctance. A mortal horror had got possession of 
 him ; the bed under him shook with his convul- 
 sive trembling ; his lips moved fast ; his face was 
 beaded with sweat. 
 
 "He has been a bad man ; he dies very hard," 
 said Dr. Drake. " Can you make anything out 
 of this silent gibbering ?" 
 
 A vivid flash of recollection streamed into the 
 rector's mind. He paused a moment, as if in 
 horror at the picture thus suddenly presented to 
 him, and then pointing at the writhing, cowering 
 figure on the bed, exclaimed, " Captain Vescey 
 waB murdered in Hawksvicw-woud ten years ago 
 — surely this is the man that did the deed !" 
 
 Branker heard the words, and understood 
 the oresture. He tried to drag the coverlid over
 
 2S6 UAWKSVIEW. 
 
 his face, then cast it ofl', utkI cried, with cowardly 
 bravado, "As well die game ! I killed the 
 Captain that his son was tried for. I was lying 
 in wait with the iron bar when the lad passed me 
 in the wood, and so I thonght to put it upon 
 him. You're witness, parson, and you, too. Dr. 
 Drake, that what I say is true. Set it down 
 on the paper with the other, and Til sign my 
 name to it." 
 
 lioger Bohun complied, and they held the 
 sheet of coarse paper on a book, while the dying 
 man, with his left hand, scraMled an almost 
 illegible signature, to Avhich the rector and the 
 surgeon added theirs. This was Branker's last 
 act. lie ])reserved his consciousness to the last ; 
 but the guilty soul quitted not the body in whicii 
 it had sinned without an awful struggle. Drop 
 we the veil over that terrible scene tlirough 
 which he passed into the presence of God. 
 
 When the rector came out from it he was faint, 
 and staggering like a drunken man ; and all he 
 could say, when he rejoined his woniaiddnd at 
 home, was, "I have heard that to-night whicli 
 clears Marmaduke Vescey from all suspicion of 
 his father's death. John Branker was a double 
 murderer."
 
 IlAWlvSMLW. 287 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 For many months after the death of Branker, 
 readers puzzled over the following advertisement 
 in the " Times,''^ which was inserted at intervals 
 of a week each, witiiout ever eliciting any thing 
 in the shape of a reply. 
 
 "Marmaduke Y y, of H — ksv — w, can re- 
 turn to England. All suspicion is cleared from 
 his name by the death-bed confession of the actual 
 murderer. Ele is anxiously expected by all who 
 love him, and is entreated to communicate with 
 his uncle immediately." 
 
 After a long time the advertisement varied, 
 and a hundred pounds reward was oflered to any 
 one who could give information respecting Mar- 
 maduke Vescey, of Ilawksview, who was sup- 
 posed to have quitted the kingdom in 18W, after 
 his trial at Carlisle, for a murder of which he was 
 innocent. The proftered reward was doubled 
 and trebled, but it brought no clue to him, living 
 or dead.
 
 2S8 nAWKSviEW. 
 
 Mr. Loftus it was who inserted these adver- 
 tisements ; he was growing an elderly man now, 
 and he longed passionate!}' to embrace his nephew 
 and to see him restored to his natural place in 
 the world before he died. From the hour when 
 they parted at the Carlisle inn, he had never 
 heard a single word of the lafl — Marmaduke had 
 voluntarily severed every link of communication 
 between himself and his former friends. What 
 was become of him formed the theme of many 
 wild conjectures, both at Boscombe and else- 
 where, but a painful idea lurked in silence, that 
 he ha<l sunk so low in the world, that pride 
 withheld him from coming forward and present- 
 ing himself. The week the first advertisement 
 was published, was the week that the Bohuns 
 went into Kent to see and take leave of their 
 gallant young soldier, on his departure for his 
 first campaign. 
 
 Tristan was hot and eager for the fray, and 
 excited the sympathy of his proud old grandsire, 
 who had himself served in Spain, under the 
 Duke. Roger was remarkably cheerful, and 
 Mona kept up her heart wonderfully; but the 
 boy's mother was sad and tremulous. She had 
 companionship in her natural sorrow, for Colonel 
 Ki(;hard Bohun was going out aUo, and his 
 elderly German wife was persuaded she should
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 2 SO 
 
 see liim no more. Lord Bolinn appeared to 
 think much more of his grandson Tristan than 
 of his son Richard. Was it because he saw in 
 the former the future representative of the 
 ancient barony, which was his visible god ? Miss 
 Sage Booty, to her never-ending exultation, had 
 received an invitation to present herself at Castle 
 Bohun, which invitation had been won for her 
 by Mona's laughing communication to her grand- 
 papa of the amiable spinster's intentions with 
 regard to Tristan ; a state of feelings which the 
 old lord said was a very proper one to encourage. 
 The party spent a week together, and then all 
 journeyed in company to London, where Colonel 
 Richard's regiment, in which also Tristan served, 
 was preparing for embarkation. 
 
 It was on a February morning that they 
 marched out of their barracks, through streets 
 alive with sympathising spectators, on their way 
 to Portsmouth. Mona and her father followed 
 with the stream to the station, and then rejoined 
 Agnes and Miss Sage Booty, who were deter- 
 mined to go down and see them embark, and 
 have the last glimpse of Tristan. The same 
 evening it was that they went on board, and 
 when it came to the final separation, the mother 
 plucked up her fortitude and courage, and showed 
 her boy a cheering face. "It seems to mo 
 13
 
 200 . HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 saddest lor those wlio go "without aiij to regret 
 them, Mona," said she, as the men filed past ; 
 " 'tis an inspiring sight — here is my boy !" 
 Tristan looked all Hie and spirit — they all took it 
 as an angury for good. 
 
 " He will come back to us, plgase God," replied 
 Mona, fervently ; and strange it -was to see her 
 eyes dinimoi* than all the rest. 
 
 Miss Sage Booty was in a state of violent 
 excitement. 
 
 " 6'«;' Tristan's a boy to be proud of,'' said she; 
 " and there's another I would be fain to see 
 uiarching here, and that's Marmaduke Yescej'." 
 
 "I was just thinking of him too," added 
 Agnes. "What brings him to my mind now, I 
 wonder !" 
 
 As Miss Sage Booty uttered the name of Mar- 
 maduke Yescey, a man in the ranks, with a 
 Serjeant's stripes on his arm, was passing. lie 
 turned a dark handsome face toward her, and 
 emil'cd under his thick moustache, but went on 
 unrecognised. That was Marmaduke Vesccy, 
 under another name, one of the most gallant of 
 all that gallant host of men. "When he stood 
 upon the deck of the ship amidst his comrades, 
 and looked back to the shore at the cheering and 
 wee})ing multitude, he saw Agnes leaning on her 
 husband's arm, waving her handkerchief to
 
 HAWKSVIEAV. 201 
 
 Tristan, In the beautiful girl beside her, he i-e- 
 cognised the merry child who used to climb upon 
 his knee and stick flowers into his hair ; and under 
 his coarse scarlet coat his heart beat to a great 
 resolve, that in the coming struggle he would win 
 a name of honor to himself or die. There was no 
 one amongst that throng watching for him ; but 
 he kept his eyes upon that little group of his one- 
 time friends, until he could distinguish them no 
 more, and then addressed himself to a comrade 
 who had left behind what all men hold dear 
 — his young wife and little son.
 
 202 HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 How was it, then, that Marmaduke Yescej, 
 after ten years abroad on the world, found 
 himself one of the undistinguished rank and file 
 of a regiment of Guards ? He had left Carlisle, 
 as we have seen, to help himself. In a month 
 his uncle's money was expended. He had but 
 one strong predilection in his mind — he was a born 
 soldier; and as his evil fortune had ruled that he 
 should not enter the army amongst gentlemen, 
 his equals, he carried his thews and sinews and 
 six feet three of stature to a recruiting office, and 
 enlisted himself in the ranks. It was slow pro- 
 motion in the piping times of peace ; but when 
 the rumor of war sounded through quiet camps, 
 Marmaduke Vescey prevised that his time was 
 come either to fulfil his visions of glory, or to 
 leave his bones to bleach on a field of battle. So 
 he marched with his regiment eagerly ; and if 
 ever he was disposed to rail at fate for having 
 allotted to him in it a grade so remote from his
 
 HAVVKSVIEW. 293 
 
 aspiration, he never found the panacea of inde- 
 pendent spirit to fail him when he thundered out 
 his favorite song, " A man's a man for a' that !" 
 He was a favorite in the regiment, both with the 
 officers and with his comrades. Out of school into 
 the ranks was but exchanging one form of discipline 
 for another, and it never galled him as it would 
 have done had he passed through a long interme- 
 diate stage of freedom and idleness. He was a 
 m%ht3' man in all trials of strength ; he was 
 better educated than half of his officers ; but he 
 had such a frank simplicity of mind, and such an 
 easy courage of manner, combined with strict 
 sobriety and discipline, that none could feel 
 jealous, none refrain from liking him. It was 
 known by all that he was a gentleman by birth, 
 and it was surmised by many that Sergeant Carr 
 bore a name to which he had no right ; but when 
 one of his comrades, with rough good humor, 
 challenged him on the subject, the sergeant put 
 him to silence so imperatively that there was not 
 a man in the regiment ever cared to moot that 
 theme again. Bat Marmaduke Yescey never 
 forgot the order he had left, and never ceased to 
 aspire to its re-conquest. What, then, would have 
 been his glowing feeling had he been so for- 
 tunate as to light upon the advertisement that his 
 Uncle Loftus had caused to be inserted in the
 
 20-1 IIAWKSVIEW. 
 
 Times'i But though he studied tlio newspaper, 
 it was not the advertisement slieet that attracted 
 him, so it was passed over, and he marched out 
 of Eiighind without knowing that liis real name 
 was clear of sliadow, and he might resume it 
 any day. 
 
 Tiie group on the shore, as the vessel moved 
 awa}', haunted his mind all through the voyage, 
 lie liked to think of Agnes, who had believed 
 in his innocence so o])enly, and of that beautldil 
 Mona, all wliuse cliildish professions of liking 
 recurred to him with a curious distinctness. He 
 one day contrived to get into conversation with 
 Ensign Bohun, whom he remembered chiefly as 
 a noisy seven-year-cild drummer at Boscombe 
 rectory, and told him he was an Astondale man, 
 a piece of information which induced the dandy 
 boy-otiicer — for Tristan was a dandy of the first 
 water — to patronize Sergeant Carr considerably 
 and to speak of him afterward in his letters 
 home as the finest man in the regiment, except, 
 perhaps. Uncle Richard, its Colonel. 
 
 It was through Tristan that the important 
 advertisement came, at length, before Mar m ad uke 
 Vescey's eyes. He read it at Malta, with what 
 ]»roud throbbing satisfaction may be imagined. 
 His first impulse was to confide his case to liis 
 Colonel, and get leave to go home ; but scarcely
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 295 
 
 had the thought suggested itself than it wa6 
 scouted angrily. "I will remain Sergeant Carr 
 through our lirst campaign," said he to himself, 
 " If I die no hearts need ache for me ; if I can 
 win distinction, then the old name shall bear it, 
 and Vescey of Ilawksview shall come by honor 
 again." He left the newsjiaper on the Ensign's 
 table, where he saw it on going into his room, with 
 a message from the Colonel; but he carried away 
 in his mind a very clear impression of the adver- 
 tisement. He never happened to see any of the 
 several repetitions of it that afterward appeared, 
 or probably he might have given some intimation 
 of his existence and whereabouts to his Uncle 
 Loftus. Tlie rapid and exciting events of the next 
 year or two kept him so earnestly employed, that 
 few thoughts, beyond the day and its work, ever 
 intruded into his active mind. It is from Ensign 
 Tristan's letters home that the details, both of his 
 own doings — of which the modest young gentle- 
 man says but little — and of Sergeant Carr's 
 impetuous gallantry, will be best gathered. The 
 boy soldier usually addressed his epistles to his 
 mother, who was a tolerant critic of queer ortho- 
 gra])hy and irregular grammar. Tristan was no 
 scholar ; but he was a fair shot, and bravo, as all 
 English blood is. In one of his earliest letters, 
 written from Yarna, during the time of mortality
 
 L^DG UAWKSVIEW. 
 
 there, we find him sending messages to Miss Sage 
 Booty, ul)ont the Lrillitiiit success of her Globh, in 
 warding off sickness from liiinself and friends, and 
 greedily hinting that a second consignment of the 
 same admirable specific Avould never come amiss. 
 Another relates an encounter with an old family 
 friend, E^ Burton, Avho followed the expeditionary 
 force, mounted on a shaggy Cossack pony, from 
 the time of its landing in the Crimea until the war 
 was closed. Agnes treasured these letters, as if 
 they were compositions beyond all price; and so, 
 to her they were. Passing over a few of the 
 earlier documents, we will give Master Tristan's 
 account of his first engagement, in the epistolary 
 style which his mother thought so admirable : — 
 
 " My Darling Mother, 
 
 "I'm all right after our brush with tlie Kus- 
 sians at Alma, which, I dare say, you have read 
 about in the pa})ers, except a hole in my coat 
 sleeve, and a shave of sJcin off n)y elbow, that a 
 sixpence will more than cover. 'Tis the only bit 
 oi glory I got tlirough the day, but 'tis my right 
 arm, and that is as much of it as 1 could afford to 
 lose so early in the cHmi)aign. AVe cruised about 
 in the Black Sea ever so many days, but saw 
 none of the Russians fleet — they were afraid to
 
 HAWK8VIEW. lli>7 
 
 come out. At last we landed, and glad was I 
 to be on terra firma, even an enemy's terra firnia. 
 'Tis Harry who is tlie diick of the family, and 
 takes the water best. I Avish Mona could have 
 seen the march on the 19th from Kamischli to 
 Biilganak, where we bivouacked the night before 
 the battle. 'Twas as fine as 'a picture. The next 
 morning we went forward again, and about noon 
 on ci'ossing a line of hill we came full in sight of 
 the Russians entrenched be^yond the river Alma, 
 three miles distant. We advanced steadily, until 
 we were within two hundred yards of the river, 
 then rested for five minutes, and forward. The 
 shot was flying about us like hail ; at first it took 
 away my breath, but my blood warmed fast, and 
 then I felt mad like to be at them. When avc 
 got to the river, the men dashed in — we were up 
 to our inaists in water — and we halted under 
 shelter of a high baidc to re-form. By this time 
 the light division had gained the entrenchment, 
 but they were forced back, and some confusion 
 took place amongst those advancing to their sup- 
 port, out, poured the Russians amongst us, and a 
 terrible struggle ensued. 'Twas my honorable 
 post to carry the color that day. Foulis was with 
 me as we climbed the steeps, but in this melee he 
 fell, never to rise again. I thought, mother, if it 
 had been me — and poor Foulis was his mother's 
 13*
 
 29;^ HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 only son. 1 think but for Sergeant Can* of ours 
 — -who, I told you before, was an Astondale man 
 — 1 should have left 7/iy bc^nes there too. A 
 Russian struck me on the head with his sword, 
 but my cap saved me, thouirli I was dizzied by 
 the blow. He was lifting his hand for another 
 stroke, when I could not have warded off a piti 
 or a strai'o, but Carr sprang on him and cut him 
 down. 'Twas here that Captain Morley died, 
 and that Edward Wyvil got his mortal wound. 
 ITncle Richard was always in the van cheering on 
 his men. I think our Lady Monica must have 
 been witli him, for he got no hurt though his 
 horse was killed under him, and he always 
 seemed to be where the bullets were flving: 
 tiiickest. The regiment suffered heavily, as you 
 will see when you read the list of killed and 
 wounded. Some of our men got separated from 
 the muin body, and were cut to j>icc<'8 by the 
 Russians. I am sorry to say, that Tom Dobbie, 
 Osythe^s grandson, was amongst them. The Rus- 
 sians finally ran awaj/, and the day was ours. 
 AVhile we were excitrd with the victory, the 
 Ecene was not bo fearful ; hnt, mother, the dead 
 faces I saw when I was cool next morning, will 
 haunt me as long as I live. Some poor wounded 
 fellows wore out all night. I saw Eli Burton's 
 long 8ha7ik8 qmH shaggy pony often that day ; he
 
 HAWK8VIEW. 29!> 
 
 went everywhere — always into J;lie dangerous 
 places, and always in liis spectacles. He found 
 iTie out at evening, and drank Miss Sage Booty's 
 health in a glass of her Glohh cognac. I have 
 more compliments and good wishes to her than 
 the postage of one letter will carry ; but I'll send 
 her one all to herself soon, with the names of her 
 graieful adtnirers. Sergeant Can* saj^s he has a 
 high respect for her, and I'm sure she will have 
 for Atm, when you tell her how he saved her pre- 
 cious godson's life. AVe have a great deal of sick- 
 ness amongst us, and a lack of necessaries of all 
 kinds ; but we are eager for another tussle, and 
 the sooner the better. 'Tis well Harry's ship 
 is with the fleet. They say the scene of the 
 battle from the sea was ^ra^i^Z— lookers-on see 
 more than actors. I was in the smoke too much 
 to see far about me. If it please God that I 
 should come home again, I shall have thousands 
 of things to tell you ; but now I must stop. 
 
 " My love to my father and Mona, and your 
 daTling self, from your afl'ectionate Son, 
 
 "Tkistan EonuN." 
 
 The name of Sergeant Carr was a great puzzle 
 to the Rectory Family, for when Miss Sage 
 Booty was applied to, to say who he was, she 
 declared there were no Carrs from one end of
 
 300 HAAVKSVIEW. 
 
 Astondale to iJie other, and never had been, to 
 her knowledge. " Unless, indeed," she suggested, 
 ■with a peevish air, " it be Topsy Carr, who was 
 poor Auguetus Blayde's first curate here, and 
 whom I drove away for his unclerical ways and 
 customs. I should think it very impertinent in 
 Topsy Carr to have a high respect for rae, for I 
 never spoke a civil word to him in my life. But it 
 may be, he was far fitter for camp than church." 
 
 " Tristan once before sj)oke of him as a very 
 tall, strong, fine looking man," suggested .\rona. 
 
 " Topsy Carr might have been a prize-fighter ; 
 but as for beinsr fiue-lookinor that is a matter of 
 taste, lie had a round nose, freckles, and red 
 hair. / considered him ugly, myself; but I was 
 always fastidious about men — curates, especially. 
 You can describe Topsy Carr to Tristan when 
 you write; and if the Sergeant he that person, 
 why I'll send him a case of real Globb — he loved 
 strong waters dearly." 
 
 But Tristan replied, in answer to inquiries, 
 that the ex-curate did not correspond with the 
 Sergeant at all, unless he had dyed his hair, 
 and shaped his nose into more classical mould 
 since he nad exchanged the ministry for the 
 sword, which seemed improbable ; and Osytho 
 Dobbie having also asserted that she never knew 
 any Carrs in the valley, not she, the mystery
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 301 
 
 remained unelucidated. Anotlier of the ensign's 
 despatches gives a pathetic account of the loss 
 of j)art of his baggage, iuchiding the jjrecions 
 Glohh, and then goes on, "It did* my heart 
 good to see our Harry in BalacLava, t'other day ; 
 we met quite by accident. He has come ashore 
 with Captain Lusliington's Naval Brigade to 
 ' sarve aboard tents,'' as Jack says." Tlie next 
 gives a detailed account of the battle of Bala- 
 clava and its famous cavalry charge, of which 
 the writer speaks with soldierly enthusiasm ; but 
 as he took no part in the action of that day, 
 we will pass it over for one received at Boscombe, 
 late in November, after the battle of Inkermann, 
 when Sergeant Carr again appears as his pre- 
 server, in circumstances of more .imminent peril 
 than before. The lad shall tell his own tale. 
 
 "My DEA.B Father and Mother, 
 
 "The glorious 5th of November has left me 
 sound in wind and limb, considerably to my 
 astonishment, thanks to G^d and Sergeant Carr 
 again. The papers will have told you that the 
 Russians surprised us. We knew that they had 
 got in very large reinforcements, and rather an- 
 ticipated a second attack on Balaclava; but they 
 ' fell upon us in a diflerent quarter, the weakest 
 and most exposed of our positions. I was out
 
 302 IIAWKSVIEW. 
 
 with the picket on the Jiight of the -ith, and a 
 bitter night it was. I had nioimted Miss Sage 
 Booty's jyonc'Ao ; but couKl not keep warm nnder 
 it, 'twas so ralni/. I had never seen the camp so 
 quiet \ only a light now and then in the lines 
 gleamed through-the mist. Tlie batteries on both 
 sides were silent, and about an hour before mid- 
 night the church bells in Sebastopol began to 
 toll. We wondered what was up. The air was 
 60 hushed, that Sergeant Carr said he could dis- 
 tinguish a sW'Uhig sound as of thousands of men's 
 voices uplifted in a solemn chant. 'Twas in the 
 darkest of the morning that one of the picket 
 reported to the captain a thiuuhrinj sound in the 
 valley below the hill, where we were lying out. 
 We thought that it was only the ^oagom oi the 
 convoy entering the city, but it ])rovcd to be the 
 enemy s aHiUery, which they brought up und^r 
 Gomr of night. I heard afterward that the 
 French turned out early, roused by these suspi- 
 cious sounds ; but it was not until the gloomy 
 day broke that we discovered what the Russians 
 were at. We saw a half a dozen of our men 
 rumiing toward us, and Sergeant Carr, who had 
 been very alert and restless all the night, cried 
 out, '"'tis a surprise!" The grcy-eontu^ like 
 swarmtf of locu-fts, rushed up the hill and the 
 battle of Inker/nan began ! O ! mother darling,
 
 UAWKSVIEW. 303 
 
 Alma was chikVs play to it. While our picket 
 fell back, fighting eveiy inch of ground, the aiann 
 spread through the camp, but we were obliged to 
 give waj, and I never shall forget Sergeant Garr's 
 rage when the Russian guns were dragged up 
 the hill to the position we were forced to 
 abandon. We ought to have had a battery of 
 our own there, and its occupation by the 
 enemy cost us dearly that day. I cannot de- 
 scribe this battle ; 'twas a series of individual 
 conflicts. The mist hid all distant movements. 
 The E-ussians were intoxicated with religious 
 fanaticism and raka ; they precipitated themselves 
 upon us with fury. 'Twas clear they had come 
 out to achieve great deeds that day ; and they 
 did show more spirit than we had giv^cn them 
 credit for before. We who had been out on 
 picket or in the trenches all night were desperately 
 cold and hungry, but such minor miseries were 
 soon forgotten. Uncle Richard soon got his men 
 together. All the troops came up as last as they 
 could by brigades, battalions, or companies, and 
 took whatever ground was most important to be 
 occupied at the moment. There was a two-gun 
 battery where the fighting raged most fiercely. 
 Tlie 41st and 49th, after holding it a little while 
 aga'inst overwhelming odds, had just been driven 
 fi'om it as we came up, aiid the Russians were
 
 o(J 1: UAWKSVIEW. 
 
 gleefully yelling over their victory. Tlic guards 
 ansvtered back with a ch^er and they swejjt iliem 
 clean out of the battery. Again they cauie up in 
 headlong torrents^ thrice they gained the parapets, 
 and thrice they were driven back with fearful 
 slaughter. Still unexhausted the}' poured in like a 
 returning wave and surrounded us. We were at 
 close quarters now, man to man, or rather 07ie man 
 to a half a dozen Busses. Sergeant Carr was 
 near me, and his courage was woifderful j 'twas 
 like that of the ancient heroes. Ilis musket was 
 broken, but his arm wielded it and came down 
 with the weight of a sledge hammer. If I told 
 you how many fell before him you would think I 
 •was romancing. The thick fug j)revented the 
 other divisions from seeing our perilous j)osition, 
 even if they could have brought ns help. Our 
 band was scarcely a thousand strong, and the 
 word l)eing passed to " keep firm on the colors,'*^ 
 we ran out and up the hill, leaving many of our 
 poor fellows wound(d within the battery. When 
 we retook it they had all been killed. As the day 
 advanced the sun^came out npon the field, and 
 showed U8 our own thin line o])po6e(l to den^<e 
 masses of the Russians; but the nicn still fought 
 with dogged courage^ and fell with their faces to 
 tlie foe. 'Twas a right welccune sound when the 
 bugles and the loud vivas of the French eclioed
 
 HAWKS VIEW. 305 
 
 along the hill top; down swept impetuous the 
 Chasseurs and Zouaves^ our wearied men rallied., 
 raised a cheer., and rushed on with our gallant 
 allies. The Russians turned and fled, throwing 
 away their arms as they ran. 'IVas then that 
 Uncle liichard was struck from iiis horse, and 
 Sergeant Carr hayoneted the two Russians who 
 were upon him, and so saved his life. I saw the 
 whole aft'air, and as soon as Uncle Richard was 
 on his feet again, the Sergeant left him to join the 
 pursuit. 'Twas not m^^ luck to see any more that 
 day, for a shot, almost spent, struck me on the 
 right knee and brought me to the ground. 1 had 
 got a thrust in the arm too, and fell sick with the 
 pain it gave me, or the blood I had lost; but 
 neither wound was of serious importance. I limj) 
 a little, but shall soon be better of that. I had 
 dropped below a hillock, and was unconscious 
 for an hour or two. There were many dead and 
 wounded all about me, and the shot came amongst 
 us where we lay. When I came to myself I tried 
 to crawl away but could not manage it. I was 
 in such a fever of thirst that I would have sold my 
 birthright for a drink cf water. 'Twas great 
 misery; but there were hundreds worse hurt than 
 myself. 'Twas toward night, when I had almost 
 made up my mind that I must lie there and die, 
 that I saw Sergeant Carr coming toward me. He
 
 SU(J IIAWKSVIEW. 
 
 Stopped oiicc to give a poor fellow a drink, and I 
 haded hiin as strongly as I could. lie came 
 running in an eestacy ol" delight, and said he hud 
 been afraid to find me dead. Yuu might have 
 thought he was my brother from the Reeling he 
 showed. lie helped me up,and carried racdown 
 tlie hill a little way, and now comes his great feat 
 of ar?n not arms, that is to say, weajxms. AVc 
 Avere passing by a clump of thick brushwood 
 where half a dozen Russians had contrived to hi<h 
 themselves, and seeing such a brilliant opportu- 
 nity of distinguisliing themselves, out they 
 sprang. The Sergeant must somewhere have 
 learned the noble science of self-defence, for the 
 first went down before a blow of his Jist, that 
 would \\SL\e yelled an ox. lie wrested the musket 
 out of his hands, and swinging it round his head 
 like a staff, compelled the others to keep a 
 ivspectfnl distance. All this time he kept on 
 moving toward our lines, and only one fellow got 
 a poke at him. I suppose their animunition must 
 have been ttjjcnt, or we had both been dead tiivn 
 that niglit. The fellows did not follow far, and 
 got away, ])rybaljly after dark, to their own camj). 
 The Sergeant's wound was a bayonet thruat in the 
 hide, a terrihh painful wound, lie is gone to 
 Scutari ]i(>bj>ital, and Uncle Richard says he shall 
 lecummend him for his commission — he ought to
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 307 
 
 luive it, I'm sure — there's not a hravcr or hetter 
 gentleman in the whole army. When we come 
 hoDie yon must all know liim. Inkornian made 
 me a lieutenant. I dare not speak or tliinlx of our 
 losses ; but the Russians sutfered inuch more 
 severely. This is a long letter, and as I am not a 
 dab with my pen, let it go to grandpapa, so I 
 shall not have to do my account twice over. 
 Harry is in glorious spirits ; he was u]3 here a day 
 or two since, and sends his love. Eli Burton has 
 given up spectacles. He told me why ; 'twas 
 because a shot struck the ground near him, and 
 dashed up the gravel, and hroke the glasses. He 
 was nearly taken prisoner a week ago. He had 
 ventured a good way beyond our lines, with 
 either geological or hotanical views, and two 
 Russians gave chase after him ; but his little 
 Cossack pony brought him all safe in except his 
 loide-awahe. He is an immense favorite here. 
 Sergeant Carr said he knew him ; but they never 
 met, which I was sorry for. 'Tis a cold wet 
 night. I fancy you round the fire at home^ and 
 wish I were with you. I shall look for lettei's 
 hefore Christmas day, when yoii must tliink of me, 
 and I shall think of you. 'Tis the Jlrst Christmas 
 I shall have ever spent awag from jon all. 
 My love to you, my dear father and mother, to 
 Mona, Louis and Mammie, and now good-night 
 
 "Tristan BonuN."
 
 308 HAWKS VIEW. 
 
 A copy of this letter was duly forwarded to 
 Castle Bolinn ; but the original document Agnes 
 would not sulfur out of her own sight. Miss Sage 
 Booty was obliged to come down and read it at 
 the rectory, ^which she did every day for a week 
 after it was received. 'The gallant Sergeant 
 was niore than ever an object of interest and 
 mystery to Tristan's family, and again inquiries 
 M-ere made up and down the dale for any of 
 his kith or kin, but with signal ill-success. 
 Mona, in her enthusiasm for whatever was brave 
 or noble, reverenced his idea warmly ; and in 
 answer to her brother's letter, she wrote that 
 she longed to see and thank his preserver. It 
 was about this time that the hearts of the people 
 of England were beginning to burn at the stories 
 of the sufierings of the soldiers in hospital; and 
 when tlie nurses went out, Miss Sage Booty de- 
 termined to set off also, chiefly with a view to 
 seeing that Sergeant Carr was i:)roperly attended 
 to. She made extensive purchases of warm 
 clothing and internal comforts; but just when 
 slie had solemnly made over the Globb to be 
 used in the parish in her absence, to the weeping 
 Piper, a letter from Tristan announced that the 
 Sergeant had recovered from his wound, and was 
 come back to liis duties in the Crimea. Miss 
 Sage Booty was then pei-suaded from her tirst 
 
 •u
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 309 
 
 intention, and stayed at home, her welcome con- 
 signment of good things being duly despatched 
 in her stead.
 
 oiO HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 Sebastopol had fallen. Tlie war was at an 
 end ; peace was proclaimed ; the Guards were on 
 then* way home. 
 
 Lord Boliuii, dictatorial always, was domineer- 
 ing now. He would have his whole family 
 assembled at the Castle to receive their returning 
 heroes. None of them were called upon to mourn 
 a loss — Colonel Richard, Lieutenant Tristan, and 
 Midshipman Harry were all safe. 
 
 '' Grandpapa, we must show some respect to 
 Sergeant Carr, to whom we owe both Tristan and 
 the Colonel," Mistress Mona suggested eagerly. 
 
 " Of course, my deai', of course. We shall go 
 to town when the Guards make their entry into 
 London, and then we shall see and thank him."' 
 
 Mona seemed to think that a very moderate 
 testimony of gratitude ; and Alicia, wlio had that 
 scas(jn begun to i)rove the iulluence of her beauty 
 upon susceptible younger sons, poiited a pretty 
 disapproval. "Grandpapa, we want to have him 
 
 •
 
 IIAAVKSVIEW. oil 
 
 here," said she ; "we want to see what he is like. 
 Thej" say he is not quite a common soldier, you 
 know, and that he has had an education, so it 
 need not be awkward." 
 
 The old Lord looked dubious. " I should be 
 proud to sit down to dinner with him myself; 
 but there's the Colonel and Tristan, and there's 
 military etiquette, my dear," replied he, shaking 
 his white head. " I'm sure I don't know how it 
 would do ; we must consult Roger." 
 
 "But if he has a commission given to him, 
 grandpapa?" persisted the brilliant coquette, who, 
 Mona angrily suspected, was already plotting the 
 destruction of the Sergeant's peace of mind. 
 
 " If he has a commission given to him that 
 altei^the case — a Queen's officer is all men's 
 equal," replied Lord Bohun. 
 
 " He will be just the same man both before 
 and after; but the invitation would not come 
 with the same grace if it were deferred," said 
 Mona. 
 
 " He shall come. There, there, children, let 
 me go ! If he is uncomfortable amongst us 
 it will be your fault," and the grandpapa re- 
 treated. 
 
 Alicia laughed aloud, and clapped her little 
 white hands. " 'Twill be such fun !" cried she ; 
 "I expect he's quite an Ursa Major."
 
 312 • HAWKSVTEW. 
 
 m 
 
 MonsL reddened and looked vexed. She did not 
 like her enthusiasm lor Tristan's preserver to be 
 60 llippuntly assailed. If you arc goin^^ to tease 
 him, Alicia, I shall be quite sorry I urged grand- 
 papa to ask him here!" she exclaimed, indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 "Tease him ! Do you think I shall condescend 
 to do more than bow to him V retorted the 
 beauty. "I have no grand heroic ideas of him 
 such as you entertain. I dare say he transposes 
 lis h's, and puts his knife into his mouth at 
 dinner!" 
 
 Mistress Mona was so affronted by this highly 
 pruljable suggestion, that she drew herself up 
 haughtily, and marched out of the room ; neither 
 would she ever enter into conversation about 
 Ser<;eaut Carr with her cousin Alicia again. 
 
 Lord Bohun and all his family went up to 
 London two or three days before the Guards' 
 triumphal entry. They had embraced the Colonel 
 and Tristan beforehand, having met them where 
 they landed ; and an invitation to Sergeant Carr 
 to spend his first leave at Castle I3ohun had been 
 forwarded through the young lieutenant. The 
 sergeant accepted it ; but ii& it happened lie did 
 not get leave at o'nce, ho did not go into Kent 
 until Colonel Kiehard returned to town from 
 his father's house, and brought a repetition of the
 
 HAWKS VIEW. 313 
 
 invitation, Mona thought, perhaps, military eti- 
 quette had something to do with this arrange- 
 ment ; but she did. not make any inquiries. 
 
 Alicia had made a bewildering toilette for the 
 first evening that the sergeant was to dine there, 
 and was clearly bent on eaptivation ; bnt her 
 carefully enhanced charms were puerile in the pre- 
 sence of Mona's simple dignity. Mona herself was 
 quite excited at tlie near approach of a meeting 
 with the man her imagination had exalted to a 
 hero, and asked Tristan over and over again how 
 he would come, and at what hour ? He did not 
 come until rather late, and when shown into the 
 drawing-room where the ladies were by Tristan, 
 who had met him at the door, Agnes, after a 
 moment's startled look at the grave brown face, 
 cried aloud, as she clasped the hand stretched out 
 to her first, " Roger, Tristan, this is Marmaduke 
 Vescey of Hawksview !" 
 
 " I remember you quite well," said Mona, rising 
 wiih blushing pleasure. Tlie sergeant blushed 
 too as their fingers met — " lie looked down, and 
 she looked up, and so they fell in love." 
 
 " Marmaduke Yescey, one of the most ancient 
 and honorable names that England boasts," re- 
 peated Lord Bohun, betraying his foible, and 
 thinking far more highly of the inherited than 
 tlie personal dignity of the sergeant. It was 
 U
 
 ol-t liA^YKSVLb;^v. 
 
 pleasanter to the old noble to owe an obligation 
 to one of his own order than to an interior; and 
 the welcome he gave big guest, was cordial in the 
 extreme. Roger's was no less so ; but it was tbe 
 kind words and looks of the women whicli touciied 
 the soldier most nearly. Tristan stared in amaze- 
 ment, and then gave a grasp of cuiigratulation to 
 the right baud which had saved him more than 
 once. "I've often heard my mother talk of you ; 
 come and sit by her !" cried he. " I call this a 
 regular chapter out of a romance." 
 
 O ! what an old, old chapter of romance and 
 real life it was that floated through the mind of 
 both ATarmaduke and Mona during the next half 
 hour ! Marmaduke talked to every body except 
 Mona, and Mona looked at every one except 
 Marmaduke ; but little Mistress Alicia, witb a 
 true feminine jirescience, detected mischievously 
 what had befallen them both, and vailed her use- 
 less fascinations. "When tlie i):>rty were pairing 
 off to the dining-room, Tristan cried, " Here 
 VcJscey," (the name came quite familiar already), 
 "take my sister, and leave me Alicia. Mona 
 will i»ut you through a catechism iA' the war — ■ 
 i^lie never tires of your glories I" 
 
 Marn)aduke Vescey would have been very gbid 
 to submit either to that or to anything else she 
 might choose to inflict, and offered his arm with
 
 HAWK8VIEW. 315 
 
 a grace tliat astonished Alicia, and gave her a 
 I'cally serious spasm of interest iu the liandsome 
 sergeant. 
 
 " I want to ask you about Hawksview," said 
 Marmaduke to his companion, wlien they were 
 seated at table, and the hum of general conversa- 
 tion had begun. " If you remember me so long 
 ago, you will remember the old cottage that once 
 stood there." 
 
 "It is there still. I have heard mamma say 
 tliat some workmen were once sent to jniU it 
 down ; but an accident happened to one of them 
 the first day it was attempted, and none of them 
 could be prevailed on to go a second time ; so it 
 was left." 
 
 " I'm glad of it. I always regretted my order 
 to take it down." 
 
 " It is one of the prettiest walks in Astondale 
 along that terrace where the cedars grow. There 
 are no such trees elsewhere." 
 
 " Osythe Dobbie lives, and Miss Sage Booty, 
 I understand ? I had often a difficulty in not 
 betraying myself to your brother when he spoke 
 of his godmother and her universal Globb. Are 
 her two ponies, Amen and Hallelujah, living 
 also?" 
 
 " Amen is dead, and Hallelujah has a retiring 
 pension, and a little paddock to himself. She
 
 31G riAWKSViEw. 
 
 M'ill be liiglily delighted to hear tliat yon arc not 
 her great aversion, Topsy Carr, and that still you 
 are an old ac(juaintance.'' 
 
 Marniadnke Vescey seemed to be seized with 
 some grave reminiscences. He was silent several 
 minutes, and then spoke abruptly on another 
 theme: "Do you know ni}- Uncle Loftns? Have 
 you ever seen him f he inquired. 
 
 "No; but papa was saying only the other day 
 that he had received a letter from him, and that 
 his anxiet}"- to see you grew on him." 
 
 " I must get away into Scotland speedily. I 
 knew long ago that he was seekirg me ; but I 
 thought to spare him the heart-ache by leaving 
 liim in ignorance of where 1 was. You must 
 liave known what anxiety was while Tristan was 
 away." 
 
 "Yes, indeed ; but mamma felt it the most. Do 
 you think inannna looks well to-night?" 
 
 "Very well — she always had a lovely face. I 
 remember her when I was a little lad, and she 
 was younger than you are now. Vou were a 
 baby ; I have nursed you many a time — trotted 
 you on my pony. Do you recollect ?" 
 
 Why did Mona blush so beautifully when she 
 said "Yes?" Perhaps she rec<»llected something 
 more. Marmaduke certainly did ; and he knew 
 quite well that she recollected too. So, not to
 
 UAWKSVTEW. 317 
 
 confuse lier, lie started another topic — and tliis 
 time it was the war — many strange and grotesque 
 incidents in which he related with great spirit. 
 
 "I hope, by and bye," said Mona, " that you 
 will get your commission ; you have fairly earned 
 it if ever soldier did." 
 
 " I am not sanguine." 
 
 There has been many a fluent chapter written 
 on " love at first sight." These two young people 
 had certainly known each other before ; but they 
 met now under such widely difi"erent cii-cum- 
 stances that they might be regarded as strangers. 
 In their own minds, however, there was an instant 
 recognition of the person and qualities which had 
 long been the ideal of each. In Mona, Marma- 
 duke saw the incarnation of that maidenly 
 modesty, beauty and spirit, which had haunted 
 his masculine dreams as a vain shadow for many 
 a year ; and in Marmaduke, Mona felt that 
 power, energy, truth, and ardor, which she had 
 never been able to discern in any of the speech- 
 less aspirants to her favor, who had looked up 
 hopeful, received a chilling glance, and gone on 
 their way. 
 
 Alicia sat opposite to them at table, with her 
 cousin Tristan on one side, and James Lennox on 
 the other ; but these boys were comparatively 
 tame and easy conquests, and her ambitious little
 
 31 S HAWK8VIEW. 
 
 soul was fired with a longing to subdue the grave, 
 stately, romantic personage whom the whole 
 house conspired to honor. It would be such a 
 feather in her cap. Not that siie wished to vex 
 cousin Mona. O ! no. Not for the universe ; but 
 it would be the greatest fun. And there was no 
 danger for herself, as she was incapable of a 
 serious passion ; and as for doubting her power^ 
 such a Inuniliating conception was far from her 
 thoughts — she could accomplish whatever slie 
 set about in good earnest, and she would quite 
 enjoy accomplishing that piece of mischief. She 
 would open the campaign in the drawing room 
 that very evening. But pretty Alicia might have 
 been enacting lier wiles and graces before a stone 
 guardsman, for any impression they made upon 
 the heart or the senses ot" Marmaduke Vescey. 
 lie did not care for her milk-white skin, or her 
 golden " men traps," as an old lexicographer styles 
 woman's ringlets. As for her eyes, lie thought 
 them far too quick and brilliant ; what his taste 
 required in the sex, was repose. She sang a 
 thrilliug Frenchied air; but her dimples and 
 bridlings and arch glances were wasted, except 
 upon Tristan, who, with cousinly familiarity said, 
 "Jove, Alicia, but you are going the pace now. 
 I'm sorry for poor Vescey." 
 
 " Don't be impertinent, sir. What have I to
 
 UAWKSVIEW. S19 
 
 do with your Sergeant ?" retorted she, shrugging 
 her fair shoulders. " He's a perfect savage." 
 
 Tristan laughed and told James Lennox, who 
 was in the first stage of infatuation with Alicia 
 himself, and resented it. " He is a savage," said 
 the young gentleman, darting furious glances at 
 Marmaduke, who, in a state of beatitude, sat 
 between Agnes and her daughter, conversing 
 with the former, and agreeably sensible that the 
 latter drank in every word that he uttered. 
 
 It was a warm, moonlight evening, and one of 
 the drawing room windows stood open to the 
 terrace invitingly, 
 
 " Who will come out ?" cried Mistress Alicia. 
 " 'Tis a sin to stay indoors on such a night." 
 James Lennox sprang forward and said he would; 
 but that was not what his fair cousin meant. 
 " Cousin Mona, you adore the moonlight. Why 
 don't you walk on the terrace?" 
 
 Marmaduke Vescey was on his feet in a mo- 
 ment. " Yes, come out," said he, eagerly. 
 " You will not move, Mrs. Bohun ?" 
 
 But Agnes would, and she accepted his arm, 
 Mona taking her mother's also ; and in this order 
 they passed out upon the broad paved walk in 
 front of the Castle. Alicia was foiled again, and 
 she was rather cross in consequence ; the moon- 
 li":ht was less attractive than before.
 
 820 nAWKSTIEW. 
 
 " Mona, won't yoii coino down and look at the 
 lake? I am going I" said she, joining the gronp, 
 and coming to Mannaduke's right hand. "The 
 lake here is beautiful at night, Mr. Yescej, and 
 you have never seen it. 'Tis worth while to go 
 down there for once." 
 
 Marmaduke referred to Agnes, and as she 
 would not encounter the dews on the long grass, 
 he said he would see the lake by and bye ; and 
 the damsel reluctantly allowed James Lennox to 
 be her escort. About a quarter of an hour after, 
 Agnes having returned indoors, the Sergeant and 
 Mona made their Avay down the steps from the 
 terrace, to that part of the pleasure-grounds where 
 the lake was. At the moment Alicia espied them 
 coming, she gave a frightened little scream, 
 slipped, and fell. She was close by the water's 
 edge, and Mona cried out, but was composed when 
 she saw she had only fallen on the turf. Tristan 
 and James Lennox were tiying to help her up, but 
 she moaned gently as the othSrs came, close, and 
 said, with such a pretty, piteous air " 'Tis my foot. 
 I have hurt it. I'm sure I can not walk." 
 
 "Let me carry you, Alicia?" said James, 
 eagerly. How proud, how delighted would he 
 have been of the office. Gladly would he have 
 knelt down to kiss the little maimed member, but 
 ehe repulsed his enthusiasm impatiently.
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 321 
 
 "Cany rae! such nonsense! as if you conld. 
 I'm a great weight," moaned she, with a soft, 
 pleading look upward to where Marmaduke 
 stood. 
 
 "Take Jim's arm on one side and mine on the 
 other, and try to hop on the sound foot," sug- 
 gested Tristan. "You can manage it if you try." 
 
 " Leave me where I am !" gasped Alicia, in 
 despair. " Hop ! did you ever see me hop ? 'Tis 
 ridiculous !" 
 
 Marmaduke Vescey's countenance expressed 
 concern struggling with mirth ; he did not in the 
 least know what he was expected to do. James 
 Lennox was a stalwart young Scotchman, quite 
 capable of carrying a brace of Alicia's ; and if the 
 3'oung lady declined her cousin's kind offices, was 
 it for a modest gentleman like himself to suppose 
 she would accept his ? " Which fool is it ?" asked 
 he, mildly. 
 
 " The right foot,"^-eplied Mistress Alicia, beam- 
 ing thankfulness upon him from a pair of eyes 
 lustrous wnth tears. 
 
 " Alicia, dear, if you cannot walk, and will not 
 let anybody carry you, what is to be done?" said 
 straightforward Mona. 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know!" and the pretty face 
 drooped. 'Twas really a most pathetic and touch- 
 ing scene — dangerous, too. 
 14*
 
 322 IIAWKSTIEW. 
 
 " I'll tell jou what,"' cried Tri&tan, who was a 
 young gentleman of plain and practical resources, 
 " ril run up to the house and make some of the 
 men bring down a mattress — then you can be 
 carried comfortably." 
 
 Alicia absolutely shuddered, and cried " Stop !" 
 ■with remarkable vigor, as he was running oflf to 
 execute his design. "Stop! Tristan, how can 
 you think of frightening mamma in that way ? 
 If somebody will help me to rise, perhaps I could 
 walk now." 
 
 Marmaduke Vesccy would never have been so 
 ill-natured as to interfere witli the prerogative of 
 an}' young gentleman in the circumstances of 
 James Lennox, so he did not lend a finger to set 
 Mistress Alicia on her feet, neither did he 4)res8 
 himself into her service to lead her home. She 
 went oflf supported by James and Tri^an, looking 
 very interesting, and walking not at all ungrace- 
 fully, considering the spraiijpd foot, which, to 
 be candid with the reader, was not sprained at 
 all. She danced upon it very agilely the next 
 day. 
 
 Marmaduke and Mona did not stay behind. 
 They looked at the lake, MJiicli was, indeed, the 
 centre of a lovely night landscape, and then fol- 
 lowed slowly in the wake C)f Alicia's procession. 
 
 " You will come down into Astondale, soon,
 
 HAWK8VIEW. 323 
 
 will yon not?" Mona asked, as tlieir conversation 
 verged again in tliat direction. 
 
 " I hope so. I must see my uncle Loftus, soon. 
 I leave here the day after to-morrow. Do you 
 remain much longer?" 
 
 " I think we shall stay a month ; and then 
 it will be papa's turn to go into residence at 
 Borcham-cum- Minster. It will be the end of 
 November before we get back to Boscombe." 
 
 " I shall be in London again before you leave 
 Casile Bohun. I hope we shall meet." 
 
 " We often go up to town for a day or two, 
 when we are with grandpapa," replied Mistress 
 Mona, who liad the same wish as himself. 
 
 Alicia caused her escort to pause until Mona 
 and' the Sergeant drew near, and then asked, 
 significantly, " What are you two so exclusive and 
 unsociable**for ? 'Tis impossible to get a word 
 from either of you ?" 
 
 Mona felt as annoyed and uncomfortable as her 
 cousin intended she should do ; but Marmaduke 
 Yescey replied witli prompt self-possession, " We 
 are each other's oldest friends, Miss Bohun. We 
 have not to begin our acquaintance to-day, but 
 only to renew it." 
 
 Alicia went on rather pleased. Cousin Mona 
 had displaced her brother Tristan and taken his 
 place, and the two groups were united until they
 
 324 HAWKSVIEW. 
 
 reached the house, when the yonng coquette was 
 eummarilj put under nurse Beste's care, and 
 dismissed to bed, and Koger Boliun claimed the 
 Sergeant for a little conversation himself.
 
 HAWKSVIEW. 325 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 Mariviaduke Yescet got his commission, con- 
 trary to his expectation. He received his medal, 
 with clasps for each action in "which he had 
 been engaged, and his cross for distinguished 
 valor; but by the time he had received these 
 merited rewards, he had begun to value them 
 less for themselves than for the honor they 
 might win him in Mistress Mona Bohun's eyes. 
 His uncle Loftus, just two days before Marma- 
 dnke's arrival in England, in despair of ever 
 beholding his nephew again, had pepetrated one 
 of those foolish marriages which elderly men, 
 with a view to securing a nnrse for their dotage, 
 sometimes allow themselves to be inveigled. 
 When the young man arrived in Scotland, he 
 found a buxom housekeeper installed at the head 
 of his relative's table, who gave him to under- 
 stand that he need have no expectations in that 
 quarter now — her own children, by a former mar- 
 riage, would be the old man's heirs. Mr. Loftus 
 
 4?'
 
 326 HAWK8VIEW. 
 
 was evidently under the thumb of his wife, and 
 dared do nothing -without her cognizance, and 
 Marmaduke took his leave of his uncle with un- 
 deniable feelings of disappointment, and proceeded 
 to Ilawksview. 
 
 Tlie Boliun's were not then at Boscombe ; but 
 Miss Sage Booty was at Moat, and as soon as she 
 heard of his arrival in tlie dale, she sent otf a 
 special messenger, desiring him to make her house 
 his home during his stay — an invitation which he 
 was glad to accept, for though Osythe Dobbie 
 had professed to keep Ilawksview cottage in order, 
 it had a miserably desolate and haunted aspect. 
 For a lady who had had small experience, if any, 
 in the working of the tender passion. Miss Sage 
 Booty was wonderfully quick-sighted to its symp- 
 toms in other, and wlien Marmadukc Yescey 
 regaled her ears daily with remarks on Mona's 
 graces and virtues, she knew very well whither 
 the brave gentleman's tlioughts tended, and as 
 she liked him exceedingly, she gave him all the 
 encouragement in her power. But Marmadukc 
 knew well that his means as an otticer in the 
 army, without private fortune to purchase his 
 stojjs, and without any even remote expectations 
 fur the future, were sucli as prudent parents 
 miglit well decline to let a daughter share, llis 
 uncle Loftiis's foolish marriage had quite cropped
 
 HA-VVK8VIEW. 327 
 
 down his blooming hopes. The war being ended, 
 the field of quick promotion was closed against 
 him jnst when a prize worth winning rose witliin 
 his view. Under these circumstances it would 
 have been discreet in Marmadnke Vescev to 
 have avoided the fascinating presence of Mistress 
 Mona ; but his discretion was not of that w^ell- 
 balanced nature, and failed him in time of temp- 
 tation. 
 
 As luck would have it, the regiment which he 
 had joined was stationed at Boreham-cum-Minster 
 while Roger Bohun was in residence there with 
 his family, so it naturally ensued that, having at 
 first no acquaintance in the town besides, he 
 should be found more frequently than was con- 
 sistent in the drawing-room of the canon's house. 
 Agnes always gave him a kind reception, and 
 Mona was pleased to blush him a welcome when- 
 ever he came. Roger also extended to him a 
 generous hospitality as to a friend and habitue of 
 the family. What followed ? Exactly the conse- 
 quences to be expected. Eyes had exchanged 
 signs and meanings before ; but one evening — it 
 was in an October twilight, in the Old Residence 
 garden — Marmaduke Vescey spake, and Mona 
 j'esponded. They loved each other, and none 
 else. Both looked so happy and exalted when 
 they re-entered the drawing-room to Agnes, after
 
 328 HAWKS VIEW. 
 
 • 
 
 the mutual confession, that the mother imme- 
 diately divined -svhat had happened. Tliey made 
 her their couiidante, and she was to speak to the 
 canon. 
 
 It was very strange ; but Roger professed to 
 be surprised. He had been wrapped up in the 
 proofs of the celebrated work before-named, and 
 had never suspected what v^as going on in liis 
 daughter's mind. " My dear Agnes," said he in a 
 remonstrative tone, " I like Marmaduke Vescey, 
 and I wish to see our girl happy ; but what could 
 they live on if they were married ?" 
 
 We were very poor ourselves, Roger; but how 
 happy we were!" replied Agnes. "Mona will 
 never form another attachment. They seem to 
 me to have been born for each other. 'Tis 
 delightful to see them togetlier. Look at them 
 now." 
 
 It was scarcely justifiable in those married 
 lovers to spy out of the library window, as they 
 did, at that otlier couple sauntering about in the 
 late autumn morning so anxiously contented, so 
 foolishly happy, wliile their fate was being dis- 
 cussed by the elders. Roger turned to his wife 
 and kissed her still blooi:iing cheeks, for that 
 little vignette under tlie brown beech-trees of the 
 fading garden revived his own courting days, 
 Agnes clasped her hands about his arm, and the
 
 IIAWKSVIEW. 329 
 
 tears came into her fond eyes as she said, "You 
 will consent, Roger." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose I must. I have no right to 
 sever two who seem, as you say, ' born for each 
 other,' " was the reply. 
 
 "Then let us go and tell them — " 
 
 "My love, I think they can dispense with onr 
 company for a little while. They seem very well 
 satisfied with each other." 
 
 Marmaduke Yescey and Mona Bouun were 
 married, and they are happy, though their pros- 
 pects are by no means sublime. Mr. Loftus, by 
 a violent exercise of his independence, contrived 
 to give his nephew live thousand pounds, and 
 Miss Sage Booty bestowed upon her favorite 
 another thousand, being an advance of half of 
 the sura the old lady had given her in her will. 
 
 Mistress Alicia, who has coqueted herself into 
 coronet, and is the purchased property of a gen- 
 tleman as old as her grandpapa, laughs at her 
 cousin Mona's unambitious marriage ; but Mona's 
 life is complete and happy ; and Lady AMcia's ! 
 no one can say in what slough it may issue ! 
 She is beautiful, thoughtless, and intriguing — her 
 cold heart keeps her from being miserable, and 
 may keep her from being wicked ; but her lord 
 lives in a fog of jealous suspicion, and inclines to
 
 3-jO iiawksvtkw. 
 
 become tyrannical, ^^oe betide liim if he drives 
 lier past lier patience ! She is childless. 
 
 Marniadnke and Mona have one son, in whom 
 and in iiis latlicr the fair repnte of Vescey of 
 Ilawksview may yet revive again. The old cot- 
 tage on the hill has been taken down and rebuilt 
 in less haunted stjde. It is leased now to a 
 tenant ; but Marinaduke looks to it as his future 
 retirement when his days of service are over. 
 That will not be until our century is almost 
 gone. 
 
 unis.
 
 AGAINST WIND AND TIDE. 
 
 BY HOLME LEE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF* 
 
 " Ha^wlisview," "Sylvan Holt's Daiagliter," etc., etc. 
 One Vol. 12mo., 440 Pages, Cloth, Price $1.00, 
 
 "Against "Wind and Tide" has just been reprinted from the London 
 edition, and comes to us endorsed by the highest literary authorities 
 of Engkmd. The leading journals of America have been unanimous 
 in its praise, and we herewith append a lengthy review from the New 
 Torh Albion, -whose literary criticisms are known both for their inde- 
 pendence and acumen. 
 
 NEW BOOKS. 
 
 Among the very lest novels of the dap we place AoArsrsx Wind and 
 Tide, iy Holme Lee, ichich has Men reprinted here hy W. A. Townsexd 
 & Co. The story is one of great interest, though not marked by many 
 striking incidents. JEventful it is, like that of many lives around us, 
 but not strange. Indeed, there is not an incident, a situation, or a 
 character in the whole hooJc tchich might not have heen taTcen from 
 actual life ; and yet thereader''s attention, if not his solicitude, for the 
 personages brought before him does not diminish ttntil they all j>ass 
 out of his sight. There are, so to speak, two heroes, the illegitimste 
 twin sons of Sir Philip Nugent, a wealthy baronet, a gentleman of 
 great accomplishments and attractive person, who, separated from Jiis 
 wife by her misconduct, loves, wins, and marries Mary Hawthorne, the 
 beautiful daughter of a farmer of the highest class. He means no be- 
 trayal of her; but on the discovery of his existing nominal marriage 
 ties, she leaves him, returns to lier father's house, brings up the boys 
 who are born there in sorrow, and dies, just as Sir Philip, set free 'by 
 the death of his wife, returns to claim her as his own. The boys are 
 types of character. One, Cyrus, has genius, lively sympathies, and a 
 proud spirit, but he is vacillating in purpose, and witliout fixed prin- 
 ciples : egotistic, too, almost to selfishness. The other, Robert, is of a 
 quiet, steady disposition, of excellent sense and sound judgment, a 
 warm heart, but a determined will : a noble, self-devoted, though not 
 a shining character. He loves and almost worships his brilliant 
 brother. Sir Philip loves the boys and would acknowledge them botli.
 
 and give them his name. But Robert, in pnrruance of a plan of life, 
 adopted before he ever saw his father, enters trade under his mother's 
 maiden name, which he retains througli life, becomes the head of liis 
 tirm. marries in his own rank of life, loses his wife early, and passes 
 the remainder of his days in acts of beiievolenco. Cyrus goes with 
 his fiMher, adopts the family name, altiiougli he can hope to inherit but 
 p;irt of tlie family estates, some of which are entailed, loves a girl in 
 the class of life in which he moves, and is loved by her in turn with 
 all tlie alfection of which a light and worldly nature is capable, loses her 
 l)y the masterly mananivres of her scheming, heartless mother, to see 
 her shortly after marry his father, becomes a man of letters and a 
 journalist, and leads a checjuered life, the gloom on which, however, 
 gradually dee|)ens until he is brought to the verge of starvation, and 
 to actual febrile insanity by his privations. In this condition, his 
 brother, whose afliection has never swerved, and his father, whom he 
 has alienated in spite of his deep love for him, are summoned to him; 
 and the latter carrying away from his lodgings a small writing-desk, 
 discovers on opening it the letter which his own wife wrote to his son 
 rejecting his hand in favor of his father's, and thus starting him on the 
 course of life which promises to end so sadly. The consequence is, 
 that Lady Nugent finds Sir Philip sitting sijceciiless and paralytic, with 
 lier letter to his son open in his hand. The father never recovers, but 
 the son does. He and his brother iidierit two of the baronet's unen- 
 tailed estates, and he marries a cliarming girl who has given hiin 
 unasked a love which he does not really deserve; and his step-motlier, 
 tlie only woman whom he has ever really loved, marries again into a 
 still higher rank of aristocratic life. 
 
 Uere is no poetical justice, no following of the fortunes of a single 
 person until he meets the fate or the reward which should be his ac- 
 cording to the eternal fitness of things. Nothing of the kind. The 
 tale has not even any symmetry, or proportion, or leading purpose. 
 It aims at none. It is full of cjtisode, or ratlicr it is a succession of 
 e[)isodes, bound together by a tliread of common interest. In fact, it 
 is merely a picture of real life, of men and women as tliey are, not as 
 they ought to be; there is not even an ideal villain in the book. The 
 iutevesft uhich it aicakens is consequent wpon itsextreme truthfulness both 
 as to the external and internal life of its characters^ in which, in oj;i£ 
 
 .irUGMKNT, IT IS UNSURPASSKD BY ANY NOVEL THAT HAS APPEAKKD FOK 
 
 KKviuAi, YEARS HACK. The scenes in which the characters move are 
 porlr.iyed so vividly, that we seem to be living with them, breathing 
 the air that they breathe, seeing the same hills and plains and streams, 
 and the same houses the sight of which forms a part of their daily life; 
 their very household gods, the cherished mementos, and the beloved 
 nooks and corners of their homes come up bef<u'e us. Yet they are 
 not catalogued and described, else, indeed, we should turn the page 
 rai)idly, and remember no more of them than we do of the furnished 
 Linises of which wo sometimes read the auctioneer's advertisements. 
 The author sees all that he, or rather she (for we have heard that
 
 ITolme Lee is a -woman) describes in her own mind's eye, and has tlio 
 faculty of lending us lier vision. 
 
 But it is chiefly, of course, for its pictures of society and of cliararler 
 that this hook is to be admlnd. A tale, the incidents of tchich are so 
 little out of the common, is not to ie saved from dullness hi/ the bent 
 landscape or interior painting. And in these jjoints — knowledqe of 
 the icorld and insight into character — "Against Wind and Tide " Vs 
 remarkable even in this day of close ohscrration and narrow intro- 
 spection. In the first regard, knowledge of the world, the keeping of 
 the book is quite wonderful. The variety of scenes and characters, 
 of classes of society, and of those subdivisions of classes called "sets," 
 Avhich it portrays, is very unusual: and yet we cannot recall a sinu'le 
 incident, or character which is either tame or exaggerated, or which 
 for the sake of a temporary effect is brought into undue relief. In 
 fact, every page of the book exhibits tliorough knowknlge and the 
 quietness of conscious power. The range of observation which it shows 
 is very noticable, and is almost inconsistent with the reports as to the 
 sex of its author. We can understand how it is that a woman can 
 know all about society both high and low, and how, if she have genius 
 and the power of observation, she may even fathom the deptiis of 
 man's heart and lay bare his hidden motives ; but what sliould a 
 woman know of a mass meeting of mill operatives, which finally be- 
 comes a mob ! What of the secret management and editorial routine 
 of a daily London newspaper! But all this knoioledge, and more, 
 equally unioomanlike, the author of '■^Against Wind and Tide"' shows, 
 and shows it, too, toithout the slightest indication of having '■'■crammed'''' 
 for it. The description of the strike, and the meeting and mob which 
 grew out of it is as true, as vigorous, and as spirited, though nut as 
 melodramatic, as Victor Hugo's description of the French mob in the 
 "Hunchback of Notre Dame." It is. finally, however, in the inner 
 life of the characters that the chief interest of the book is to he f omul. 
 This is exhibited with a knowledge so subtle and profound, it is ex- 
 posed with a hand so steady and so unflinching, that, were it not for 
 the fullness and warmth of human sympathy which pervades the book, 
 we should place its aiichor among the cynics of the day, whose style 
 and tone has been brought into vogue by a great master. But tlierc 
 iithis diti'erence between a book like "Against Wind and Tide," and one 
 IiKe "Vanity Fair," (aside from any difference in degreeof ability that 
 may be insisted on), that the one, though it exhibits men and women no 
 less than the other just as they are, in all their weakness of will and 
 strength of passion, their littleness and their selfishness, showing how 
 they are the willing playthings of circumstances, and not moral lieroes, 
 moulding circum«tances, and ruling their own spirits, — though it sliows 
 this, it does not leave that impression of hopelessness, of utter and iu- 
 lierent degradation which the works of the eminent satirist of tlie day 
 are apt to produce. It has many sad, and some gloomy, and one or 
 two despairing passages, but not a single morbid one; and we lay it 
 down with tlie feeling that although, as in real life, not every one of
 
 its characters has received his or her deserts, in the material rewards 
 of life, yet that it is wortli while to live, that there is some goodness 
 extant, and the germ of it in all hnman breasts, and that althongh 
 "most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly," all is not so. 
 
 The list of dramatis personce in vnnsuiiUi/ rich and varied, and the 
 portraits arc painted xcith rare strength of characterization and fidelity 
 to nature. True, the people themselves are not in all cases such as 
 elicit our regard, our resjject, or even an admiration which may exist 
 withdut eitiier regard or respect. But is it not so in the world of 
 which this book attempts to be in part a faithful mirror? Surely. 
 S(; also tliese characters come and go, apjjcaring for a short time, and 
 then vanisiiing, and ])erliaps reai)pearing long after, just as the people 
 whom we have encountered tiit back and fortli across our patlis (if 
 life. Tiie female list of cluiracters is mucli longerand more diversified 
 tlum the mule, and the traits of these are ])ortrayed with a ligliter and 
 more certain touch: — which goes to alhrni the assertion that tiie 
 author is a woman; for this character-painting is plainly from know- 
 ledge acquired by reflection as well as close observation. — There are 
 passages of simple and touching pathos in this stoi-y, some of almost 
 tragic interest, few of any remarlkahle lightness or vivacitij, but several 
 which in their exposition of the mingled motives, the crossing purposes, 
 and unexpected antagonisms uhich infuence human action, are unsur- 
 passed in tke works of any novel writer of the day — we do not except 
 JJulwer or Thackeray. We Commend the Book nEAKTii.Y to the 
 Favok of opR Keadehs. 
 
 From the Philadelphia Xorth American. 
 
 "This is one of the best novels of the season. The author shows an 
 extended knowledge of the world, a keen appreciation of character, 
 and a lar^e compass of expression. The plot is well conceived ai.d 
 natural!y"deve]oi)cd; the diction, with some exceptions, is pure and 
 vigorous; tiie ideas are always sensible, often graceful, and sometimes 
 informed witii tlie inmost soul of poetry; and tlie scenes and occur- 
 rences all seem natural, while some of them are truly and touchingly 
 pathetic. AVe do not envy the sensibilities of tlie man to whose eyes 
 tlie j)erusal of some of these pages would not bring a dewy dimness — 
 the liappy, healthful sympathy with sorrow," 
 
 From, the Springfield Republican. * 
 
 "It has .ill the strength and power of 'Adam Bede,' witli the refine- 
 ment and grace which that book lacks." 
 
 From the Philadelphia Press. 
 "The author writes with spirit and force, and never lets the interest 
 of the story flag." 
 
 One vol., 12mo., cloth. 440 pages. Price %\. Mailed, post-free, 
 on receipt of price. 
 
 IV. A. TOWNSKND tc CO., Piiblinliera, 
 
 No. 1« %Vnlkor S<ro«'l, JV. Y
 
 THE PUBLICATIONS 
 
 OF 
 
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 No. 46 Walker Street^ New Tork. 
 
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 46 "WALKER STREET, NE"W YORK.
 
 ELEGANTLY ILLUSTRATED EDITION 
 
 OF 
 
 COOPER'S NOVELS 
 
 T;wBT:T.T.TRKT:n WITH FIVE HTJNDEED OHIGINAL DEA WINGS 
 By F. O. C. DARLEY. 
 
 This beautiful Edition of Cooper's Works was commenced February 1st, 
 18r,y, and will be completed in THIRTY-TWO MONTHS from that date, a 
 Toliime containing a novel complete, being published on the first of each 
 month. The rolumes are uniform in size and binding, and each contains 
 Two Engravings on Stekl, and Twklvk SKETCHKa os Wood, designed by 
 1)AKLEY, expressly for this edition, and engraved by the First Artists or 
 
 THB CoLKTRT. 
 
 THE SERIES EMBRACES: 
 
 THE PiOyEERS, 
 
 RED kOVEK, 
 
 LAST OF THE MOHICANS, 
 
 THE SPY, 
 
 WYAXDOTTB, 
 
 THE UKAVO, 
 
 THE riLOT. 
 
 WEPT OK WISH-TOX-WISU, 
 
 THE HEADSMAS, 
 
 THE PUAIKIE, 
 
 LIONEL LINCOLN, 
 THE SEA LIONS, 
 THE WATEU WITCH, 
 HOMEWARD BOUND, 
 THE MOSIKIXS, 
 HOME AS FOUND, 
 SATAXSTOE, 
 WIXG AXD WING, 
 THE CHAIXUKAUER, 
 THE PATHFlXliEIl, 
 
 JACK TIER, 
 THE RED SKINS, 
 THE TWO ADMIRAUS, 
 THE HEIDEXMAl.EK, 
 MERCEDES OF OASIILE, 
 OAK OPENINGS, 
 AFLOAT AXD ASHORE, 
 MILES WALLINGFORD, 
 THE CRATER, 
 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR, 
 
 PRECAUTiON, 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 The first Fifteen Volumes are issued in the above order; the remainder 
 will follow the same arrangement as nearly as possible. As a 
 
 NAJTiryNAJ-i ENTEKPRISK 
 
 the publication of this edition exceeds, both in magnitude and importance, 
 anv tiling of the kind before undertaken in this country. COOl'EK has been 
 justly x'.yled 
 
 "THE GBEAT AMEKICAN NOVELIST," 
 
 and the Publishers believe they have not mi.'<taken the tastes of his countrr 
 men in oU'enng them this complete and elegant edition of his Works. 
 
 rublishiii^ by subscription, iit :fl .")0 j)er volum.e, for which tliey will b* 
 sent, po;<t-paicl, to any aildri,-ss in the United Stales, under ."5,01111 miles. Tlie 
 Work can be obtiiiued from local agents (generally the principal Bookseller!«| 
 in all tli>- liir-xe cities. 
 
 BOOKhELLKH.S and others desiring an Agency where none haa bcei 
 eatablitfhed, can ascertaiu terms, i^c, by addressing the Publishers. 
 
 W. A. T0WN8END & Co., Publishers, 
 
 No. 46 WAI.KEK 8TREKT. N T
 
 COOPER'S WORKS. 
 
 BARLEY'S ILLUSTRATED EDITION. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE I»RESS. 
 
 77(6 Boston Tra/veller. 
 
 "We are at last to have a perfect edition of Cooper's noble works, one which his inii^ 
 titiulinous admirers will not be ashamed to place alonjrsidc of the best edition of Seoti 
 The publication has been commenced by Messrs. W. A. Townsend ifc Co., of New 
 York, Well known for liberality and enterprise, and who can be depended upon to 
 redeem their pledges to tlie reading world. This edition will consist of thirty-two 
 volumes, each volume to contain a work complete, and will embrace all the author's 
 novels, from the "The Pioneers" to "The Ways of the Hour." One volume will bo 
 published on the first day of every month, until the edition shall have been completed, 
 commencing February 1st, 1S59. Nothing h.as been left undone to render the edition 
 as perfect as art, enterprise, and liberal expenditure can render it. The typography is 
 of the most elegant description. The paper is of the very first class of that manufac- 
 ture, strong, clean, and smooth as the palm of a lady's hand. The binding is at once 
 durable and beautiful. The size is the crown octavo, universally allowed to be the 
 best both for convenience and preservation. The illustrations, which will be five 
 hundred in number, will all be designed by th.it consummate genius, V. O. C. Darley, 
 who will be thoroughly at home on the pages of Cooper. Sixty-four of the illustr.i- 
 tions will be on steel, engraved by the Smilies, Alfred Jones, Dclnoce, Burt, Girsch 
 Phillibrown, Andrews, Pease and Schoff. Those on wood will be the work of leading 
 artists, among whom are Edmonds, Whitney, the Orrs, Bobbett, and Anthony. Thus 
 much for the externals of the volumes. In other respects thoy will be found equally 
 worthy of the attention of tlie public. Each volume will contain the last corrections 
 of the author, and will on that account alone present an unrivalled claim to superiority 
 over any other edition. The publication opens with " The Pioneers," one of the best 
 of the author's works, as it was one of the earliest of them. It is a true picture of 
 American life as it was nearly seventy years ago, and .as it is now on the remote western 
 frontiers of the republic. The origin of Templeton, and the manner of life there, aro 
 things familiar to thousands of Americans. Perhaps there is no one of Cooper's works 
 that is, on the whole, so agreeable as the " Pioneers." Tiie scene is far removed from 
 city life, most of the characters are by no means remarkable, and the incidents are not 
 often "strong," yet the author has made of his ordinary materials one of tlio most 
 attriictive tales in the language, and which has been transUited into almost every lan- 
 guage that has readers. lie takes us through the seasons as they were in the olden 
 times, opening with winter, the char.acterislics of which in our climate wore never 
 more forcibly drawn than they are in tliis most rcad.ablc of novels; while those of 
 summer and spring are in their turn described, and the charms of autumn are brietly 
 introduced. "The Pioneers" is the first of those of Cooper's works th.at have been 
 specifically denominated the " Leather Stocking Novels," and which have be.'U not k-M 
 popular than his admirable sea stories. N^iUy Bumpoo her* first appears, not In the
 
 COOPERS WORKS. 
 
 order of his life, but in the order of the author's creation. Perhaps Cooper's famo 
 depends as mucli upon this one character as upon most of his other creations com 
 biuod. He h.is made the most of him, and now it will be seen that Darlej-, laboring on 
 this shadowy yot real being iu the realms of romance, has given him a new title to gen- 
 eral admiration. We Tenture to predict that this edition of Cooper will be eminently 
 successfiil, that it will find its way into the hands of every person of taste, and that n< 
 library, public or jirivatc, can afford to bo without it. 
 
 The Boston Advertiser. 
 
 "We have been highly gratified with the examination of specimen pages of a new 
 edition of Cooper's Novels and Tales, to be published in New York by Messrs. W. A. 
 Townsend & Co., with illustrations from steel pl.ites, from drawings made expressly for 
 the work by Mr. F. O. C." Darley. Mr. Darley is excelled by no artist in the delicacy 
 and elegance of his delineation of figures. His illustrations of Cooper's works have 
 been, as we understand, a "labor of love '' with him for a long period. lie thoroughly 
 appreciates the author, and is able to give expression to the true spirit of his works. 
 If we are not mistaken. Cooper is destined to be still more popular with succeeding 
 generations than he was with hiscotcmpor.iries; and this is saying a great deal, lie is 
 Jhoroughly American, and original; he gave permanent phice in literature to the tra- 
 ditions and usages of a people who have now almost wholly disappeared from the con- 
 tinent formerly all their own. His " Deersl.iyer " and "Last of the Mohicans," cannot 
 possibly be imitated with success by any future writer. They must always reinaiii the 
 great specimens of their class of tales. Cooper's sea stories are scarcely less remark- 
 able. But it is superfluous to speak in praise of the value or interest of these works. 
 We have only now to do with the new edition, which promises to be a fittinc dress for 
 the author's text, with the appropriate ornaments of illustratioiL We predict for tho 
 vork a large and permanent sale. 
 
 The Providence Journal. 
 
 We are glad at last to call attention to an American edition of Cofiper's novels, 
 ■which promises to be an honor to both publisher and author. It will contain the latest 
 revisions, will be printed in good type on smooth and handsome paper, bound in richly 
 ornamented covers, and illustrated by Darley with drawings on wood, and steel vig- 
 nettes, executed in the highest style of art. The volume before us, the first of the 
 scries, is a beautiful book, an<l reflects great credit upon the publishers. 
 
 If Messrs. Townsend i Co. carry out their design as they advertise to do, this edition 
 of Cooper's novels will certainly be a magnificent enterpri.se, and a worthy monument 
 to the fame of the illustrious author. 
 
 The Boston Evening Expresi. 
 
 Messrs. W. A. Townsend <k Co., of New York, have commenced the publication of v 
 new and beautiful edition of this series of works, one volume to be issued on the first 
 of each month until the whole set of thirty-two novels shall be presented to the 
 public in a style of elegance, neatness and value which they deserve, but bare never 
 attained. 
 
 "The Pioneers," one of the earliest and most popular of the scries, has been selected 
 by the publishers for their initial number, and it now lies upon otir table. Its letter. 
 pre».s typography and binding are worthy of all praise; while its 1. lustrations from 
 stoel plates — one representing the killing of the deer. In the first chapter, and the other 
 Leather Stocking reading the inscription on the tomb-»tone of the bugamorc, iu 
 the last chapter — from drawings made expressly for the work by F. O. C. Darley, are 
 very artistic and excellent in their execution. 
 
 If "The Pioneers" may bo considered a sample of tho entire series, wo may say 
 nnhesitatingly, that tho work upon which tho enterprising publishers have unterud, will 
 U- an honor to tho trade.
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PKESS. 
 
 Th6 Utica (JV. 1'.) mraid. 
 
 "Wc clap our hands and are glad at the inception of this first really worthy edition of 
 Cooper's novels. With a full appreciation of Walter Scott, and tlio par nobiU fratrum 
 of living British novelists, — with a knowledge not limited of contemporary Action, and 
 Bome acquaintance with Fielding. Smollett and Sterne, were we to have the privilcgo 
 of perusing the worlis of but one novelist, we should, as an American, sc.ect above all 
 others, those of J. Fenimore Cooper. Estimating, too, the effects of fiction on the mind, 
 its tendcnsy to give color to the imagination, topics to the fancy and to reflection, and 
 fuel to ambition and the affections, wo know that love for nature, an enlightened 
 patriotism, kindly regard for humanity, pride in the beauty of our scenery, and sym- 
 pathy with our early history, spring from every page of the Leather Stocking and 
 Eevolutionary Tales. 
 
 Take "The Pioneers," for example. Its scene is laid in Otsego county, in our own 
 State. It fs descriptive of the early .settlers in that region. Leather Stocking, a con- 
 necting link between Europeans and Indians, is one of the finest creations in all fiction, 
 deserving to rank with Robinson Crusoe, or the best of Scotfs heroes. The spirit and 
 circumstances of the early settlers can be better gathered from this work than from 
 tomes of history. No Ncriv Yorker should read any novel before he has perused not 
 only "The Pioneers,'" but the rest of the Leather Stocking series. 
 
 The present edition is issued in beautiful style. The type is large, clear and open, 
 the paper beautiful, and the binding tasteful and solid. Besides several small wood 
 engravings, the present volume has two fine steel engravings from drawings by 
 Darley; one the death of the deer, the other. Natty at the grave of the Mohegan. 
 The former is a capital scene of fore.'^t and hunting life; the latter still and solemn 
 and beautiful. They are worth studying !vs works of art, and are strong allurementa 
 to every beholder to peruse the story they so well illustrate. 
 
 All of Cooper's novels are to be issued in this handsome style, and if we coulJ havo 
 our wish, would supplant nine-tenths of the current works of fiction. 
 
 " 77(6 Press" Philadelphia. 
 
 In this new and beautiful edition we have two engravings on steel, executed with 
 delicacy and yet with force, from drawings by Darley, and a dozen beautiful and char' 
 acteristic head-pieces, executed on wood, after designs by the same artist, who really 
 seems to have taken to illustrating Cooper, as a labor of love, so congenially has he 
 translated the author's idea into that expression which an able .artist .sometimes happily 
 seizes, which Darley never misses. This new edition of Cooper will probably havo as 
 large a sale as any series of volumes ever publishcil in this country. It is emphatically 
 one of the most splendid collections ever issued — cqu.allcd only by the embellished 
 Abbotsford edition of Scott's Novels, which is too bulky in size and delicate in adorn- 
 ment for daily use. On the contrary, this Cooper is equally adapted for the Parlor and 
 the Library, 
 
 TJte Boston, TVanscHpt. 
 An Americak Literary Enterprise. — Such is emphatically the new edition of 
 Cooper's novels. The initial volume, containing "The Pioneers," hius iust ap- 
 peared. It is printed from the iiio.st neat and distinct type, on white, subsUintial 
 paper, and bound in a handsome and appropriate style. A good library edition of 
 Cooper has long been a desideratum. W. A. Townsend &. Co. have chosen a seasonable 
 moment for supplying this national want. There is a comparative lack of gflod new 
 fiction, and readers gladly resort to old favorite and standard reading in this depart- 
 ment The time which has elapsed since Cooper's death, has made his fame and works 
 more precions to his countrymen. The success of the Hoiis<'hold Wavcrley, proves 
 that the most familiar of popular outhors was universally welcome in a new and 
 attractive shape. Libraries are formins throughout the country, and to each of those 
 » himdsomo edition of Cooper is xaHigoea-'uiblc. Every intelligent and patriotic Ameri-
 
 COOPER S WORKS 
 
 tan desires to own one, for the appreciation of native productions has vastly Increased 
 within the lew pa>t yeais. For these and many other reasons, wc cull the publication of 
 this eilition t<e<i.<<ottii(iU. 
 
 Anil now, a woiil or two as to its peculiar merits. We have spoken of the mechan- 
 ical execution; wc must refer to the correct text, and to the full introductions — to tho 
 convenient arrangement — each novel being complete in one crown octuvo— as superior 
 to anythinK before realized. The price — a dollar and a half per volume, is very mode- 
 rate. It is propo.sed to issue the series in successive volumes, bednning on the first of 
 February, and continuing on the first of each month until the set is complete. Thus 
 thirty-two volumes will include all the tales and romances, with the author's latest 
 revisions. 
 
 In addition to these cl.aims, this new and beautiful edition of Cooper, has received 
 its crowning distinction from the vigorous, skillful, and, we must add, sympitthetic 
 pencil of F. O. C. Darley. His drawings .trc universally admired for their e xjiression, 
 correctness nnd beauty ; but in these illustrations of Cooper, he seems to have found 
 his most congeni.il sphere. No designs executed in this coimtry can compare with 
 them for masterly finish and effect. His genius is akin to Cooper's in a certain facile 
 energy; he catches the very spirit of the novelist's scenes and charactci-s. In each 
 volume there are two steel plates and twelve designs on wood: the drawings are full 
 of spirit — the groups eminently dramatic; they are finished up In the most refined 
 style of execution — elaborately conceived and executed in line and etching. In a word, 
 taking in view the joint triumphs of autlior and artist, and the liberal taste of the pub- 
 li.«her, we consider this edition of Cooper a memorable and precious example of native 
 genius and enterprise, and a landmark in the progress of American literature and 
 patriotic feeling. 
 
 Tht Boston Journal. 
 
 Although Cooper is pre-eminently a national novelist, we have no library edition of 
 his works comi)risin;; his latest revisions and handsomely printed. The one now com- 
 menced is in every respect desirable. It is printed on tinted paper, with new type, 
 e.ich work complete in one volume, and is bound in a substantial style, suitable for a 
 library. Its peculiar excellence, however, lies in its superb illustrations by Darley. 
 ar artist who is fitted for his tiisk not less by his long study and delicate appreciation 
 of the author than by his acknowledged skill in his art. So entirely has he made the 
 creations of the novelist's fancy his own, that they stand out with the same bold, vivid 
 Individuality in the sketch of the artist as on the page of the author. Every detail is 
 given with fidelity, so that nothing detracts from the pleasure of a harmonious whole. 
 Each work contains two fine engravings on steel and twelve on wood. 
 
 The Korthampton {Mats.) Gazette and Courier. 
 
 It it truly a maynfficent undertakinc, and is to be carried out in a generous and 
 liberal manner. Kach volume is beautifully illustrated with two steel engravings, de- 
 siixned bj-* F. O. C. Darley, ancl numerous Kumllor wood-cuts by the same ma.ster 
 hand. AVhcn the leading American artist brinps liis genius to the tjisk of illustrating 
 the works of ,\nierica's greatest writer of llctiou, the result will be something of more 
 than ordinary merit The enterprise is truly American, and commen<ls itself to the 
 reading public in general, and will be hailed with si)eci;d delight by all admirers of 
 Cooper. The first volume, "The Pioneers." just issued, is beautifully printed on 
 thick, heavy pajier, and it is a mystery how a volume of such elegance can be furnished 
 at the low price of $1 &0. 
 
 Th* JV. T. Evening PoH. 
 
 Tlie execntl«»Tt of the volume Is In all respecti worthy of the geni\is of the nutbor 
 whose work it iierpetuates, and cannot fail to renew the interest that has for so lonfra 
 time made the name of Cooper ome of tho most prominent in American literature. 
 I'he de»igns, by Darley, are not only ex«cutcd iu the bust style of that ominant
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 artist, but are as original in conception as is the tale whose incidents they delineate 
 The illustration of tliis series of novels has long been a ftivorite idea with Darlcy, and 
 we can discover, not only in the two slietclies of Leather Stocking, which trace ttia 
 present volume, but in several others that have been sliown to us, the love of tlir sub- 
 iect which the artist has brought to his labor. Hejceforth the reputation of Darlcy 
 will be associated with his illustrations of Cooper, aud no edition will be considered 
 complete without them. 
 
 The Bxifialo Cnmmeroial AdverUner. 
 
 Messrs. Townsend & Co. have engaged in the enterprise of publi.shing an edition of 
 tlie complete works of the great American novelist, in a style of elegance in typo- 
 graphy and binding befitting the high merits of the series. The American public owe 
 a lieavy debt of gratitude to Mr. Cooiier, wlio was the first novelist to win for this 
 country an enduring fame in works of fiction. Nearly all his works are purely Amer- 
 ican in character, and American in the true sense, the various personages introduced 
 being truthful portraits of some phase of American character. His descriptions of 
 American scenery, too, are among the most charming in our recollection. Add to this 
 that the plot of all his tales is explicit, consequent, and clear, and his style as a writer 
 eminently pleasant, and we have sufficient reason for ranking Mr. Cooper as the first 
 of American novelists. 
 
 The Boston Evening Gazette. 
 
 The typographical execution and general appearance of "The Pioneers" are most 
 crcdit.able to Messrs. Townsend & Co. Paper, print, binding, illustrations, are alike 
 excellent. When completed, no handsomer volumes will grace the shelves of a lib. 
 rary. It seems aln.ost needless at this late day to urge the importance of possessing 
 the works of Fenimore Cooper. His fictions have as yet been equalled by no Amer- 
 ican author. They possess a charm for both old and young; are unexceptionable in 
 their tone; have a vividness of description no other romancist has approached, and 
 are truly American in all their characteristics. But what use to praise a man who 
 created a Leather Stocking and a Naramattah? What avails Laudation of the author 
 of "The Spy" and of "The Wept of the Wish-ton-Wish ?" His stories should bo 
 familiar in every household, and to such as may not own them, we would cordially 
 and honestly commend the edition to which we allude. 
 
 The Portland (3/«.) Argus. 
 
 The style and finish of the work are such as to make it a fitting testimonial to tho 
 genius of the most fascinating of all our native writers, and it should receive the sup- 
 port and approval of the American public. 
 
 TTie Ne/io York Tribune. 
 In this first installment of TowNSENP's new edition of the novels of Cooper we hare 
 a promise that the productions of the gi-eat American writer of fiction will be pro- 
 senled to the public in a form worthy of the author and his reputation. The edition 
 will be comprised in thirty-two volumes, to be issued on the first day of each month, 
 containing the latest corrections and revisions of the author, and illustrated by 
 original designs from the pencil of Darlcy, and engraved in a style of superior accu- 
 racy and beauty. The volume now issued amply sustains the representations of th» 
 publishers. It has rarely, If ever, been surpassed by any production of the press ii 
 this country, in exact and finished workmanship, and in elegance of embellishmcni. 
 Mr. Darley's designs ha^ caught the genuine spirit of the novelist, and reproduce o\\ 
 Leather Stocking in different scenes with the fresh naturalness of the original pagj. 
 The issue of this tempting edition can haraiy fail to induce a host of readers to renew 
 the pleasure with which they first m>'/lo tho ucquainUuce of this noble iUusualion of 
 the geniui of Fenimore Cooper.
 
 BARLEY'S 
 
 COOPER VIGNETTES. 
 
 ARTISTS' PROOFS. 
 
 The superior beauty and excellence with which Mr. Darlet's Designs foi 
 he New Illustrated Edition of Cooper's Novels, have been reproduced 
 upon the steel, have led the undersigned, at the request of numerous artists 
 »nd amateurs, to cause a limited number of Proofs on India before Letter, to 
 be taken from each plate, with a view of issuing them in a teries of Folios, 
 with the proper descriptive letter-press. 
 
 The remarkable spirit and power evinced in all the designs from the pencil 
 »f Mr. Darley, have signall}' and eminently characterized those illustrating 
 the scenes and characters of Cooper's novels. The artist's long familiarity 
 with the pages of our great novelist, and a hearty love and appreciation of his 
 genius, have resulted in the production of a series of drawings, which, for 
 dramatic, picturesque, and vivid interest, have perhaps no superiors in 
 modern art. These drawings have been engraved with a faithfulness and 
 care worthy their reputation, by the acknowledged first artists in the country, 
 exclusively in Lim and Etching, and with a scrupulous regard to the require- 
 ments of lirst-class art. In their nationalit}', and their great superiority over 
 ordinary book illustrations, they especially commend themselves to all con- 
 noisseurs of the Fine Arts. 
 
 The Proofs will be issued in eight folios, each folio containing eight proofs, 
 jind each proof accomi)anied with a page of letter-press descriptive of the 
 picture, embellished with a design on wood by Mr. Darley. The proofs are 
 printed with the utmost care, on India, and backed on the finest French Plato 
 Paper. Each folio will be in a cover of highly ornamental design, printed in 
 tint. 
 
 Folios O.ve and Two are now ready, and the remaining Six will follow at 
 intervals of two or three months. 
 
 PRICE TO SUBSCRIBERS-THREK DOLLARS PER FOLIO. 
 
 As the proofs are limited to a small number (only 500 impressions from 
 each plate, after which the plates are lettered, so that no more can be takenj, 
 DO subscription will be received except for the full set. 
 
 -W. A. TOWI¥SEI¥I> & CO., 
 
 No. 45 ^VALKEU STREET, NEW YORK.
 
 f^ THE LIBRARY 
 
 <r/Af<' UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 SrHi Santo Barbara 
 
 STACK COLLECTION 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW. 
 
 10m'10,'63(E1188g4)476D
 
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