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 W. A. TowNSEND & Company, No. 46 Walker Street^ New Tork. The Works of James Fenimore Cooper. LIBRARY EDITION.— Complete in thirty-four volumes, izmo. Embracing : Precaution. The Bravo. Afloat and Ashore. The Spy. The Heidenmauer. Miles Wallingford. The Pioneers. The Headsman. The Chainbearer. The Pilot. The Monikins. Satanstoe. Lionel Lincoln. Homeward Bound. The Red Skins. Last of the Slohicans. Home as Found. The Crater. Red Rover. The Pathfinder. Jack Tier. The Prairie. Mercedes of Castile. The Sea Lions. Travelling Bachelor. The Deerslayer. Oak Openings. Wept of Wish-ton- Wish. The Two Admirals. The AVays of the Hour. The Water Witch. Wing and Wing. Ned Meyera. Wyandotte. STYLES AND PRICES. Embossed muslin, per vol. (each work furnished separately), . . . $ 1 00 Embossed muslin, the complete set, 34 vols., 34 00 Sheep, library style, marble edges, sup. finish 40 00 Half calf or half turkey, plain, 55 00 Half calf, extra, full gilt backs, or half calf antique 60 00 Superb calf, or turkey, extra, gilt edges, . . . , » . . 75 00 THE PUBLICATIONS OF DARLEY'S ILLUSTRATED EDITION, with Illustrations on Steel and Wood, from designs by F. O. C. Darley. Crown octavo, on tinted paper, embossed cloth, w'th bevelled edges, per volume, ^ , . . . f 1 50 This beautiful Edition of Cooper's Novels was commenced February 1st, tS59, »nd will be completed in tuirtt-two months from that date— a volume, contain- ing a novel complete, being published on the first of each month. The volumes are uniform in size and binding, and each contains two kkgravixus ok 8 f.ki and twelve sketches os wood, designed by Darlst expressly for tliii Edition, and engraved by the first artists of the country. XOW READY {April, 1S60). The Pioneers. The Red Rover. Last of the Mohicans. The Spy. Wyandotte. The Bravo. The Pilot. AVept of Wish-ton-Wish. The Headsman. The Prairie. Lionel Lincoln. The Sea Lions. The Water Witch. Homeward Bound. The Monikint. Satanstoe. VOLUMES J2r PRESS. Home as Found. Jack Tier. Miles WallJngford. The Pathfinder. Oak Openings. The Crater. The Chainbearer. The Two Admirals. Wa.vs of the Hour. Wing-and-M'ing. Beidcnmaucr. Deenlayer. The Red Skins. Mercedes of Ca-stile. Precaution. Afloat and Ashore. %• A Portrait of Mr. Cooper, engraved expressly from an original painting bj Elliott, and a view of the new Coopentown Monument, will be Included in the Series. THE TRAVELER'S EDITION. Neat ICmo., uniformly bound in flexible covers, per vol., . . . . f 75 We are now issuing an edition of Cooper's Novels, on fine paper, sized and calendered, and bound in fancy cloth, flexible, with printed titles, clc, on sides and back; which, on account of the neat, convenient an<l portable size of the volumes — particularly adapted for " railway reading "—we have styled " Tint Traveler's Editios." Ten volumes are now ready (March, 1860); others will follow in rapid succession. COOPER'S LEATHER STOCKING TALES, Comprising Deerslayer, Prairie, .Mohicans, Plonetrs, Pathfinder. Five elegant volume.^, neatly bound In embossed cloth. Extra sheep, library style, marble edgei, Half calf, or half turkey, Half calf extra, full gilt backs, or antique, . . . 15 0<» 00 8 00 9 00 n W. A. TOWNSEND & CO. COOPER'S SEA TALES, Comprising: The Pilot. 'VVing-and-Wing. The Crater. The Red Rover. The Water- Mitch. Jack Tier. The Two Admirals. Afloat and Ashore. The Sea Lions. Miles Wallingford. Ten volumes, neatly bound in embossed cloth, $10 00 Sheep, extra, marble edges, library style, . . . . . . . 12 00 Half calf, or half turkey, plain, 16 00 Half calf, or half turkey extra, full gilt backs, or antique, . . . . 18 OC NAVAL HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES. By J. Fenimore Cooper. Abridged by himself, from the full work, for popular reading, with his latest corrections, and a continuance to 1856, from his unpublished MSS., and other authentic sources ; including an account of the Japan Expedition ; prepared by the Editor of the Octavo Edition. Illustrated with a fine Portrait of the Author, on Steel, and Fifteen Illustrations of the principal Battle Scenes. One vol., 12mo., uniform with Cooper's Novels, $1 25 DARLEY'S COOPER VIGNETTES. A limited number of "Artist Proofs before letter " have been taken from each of the beautiful Steel Vignettes, engraved from Dailey's Designs for the New Illustrated Edition of Cooper's Works. 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By Henry William Herbert, author of "Frank Forester's Field Sports," etc. In two superb imperial octayo volumes of 1,200 pages, illustrated with steel- enpraved Original Portraits, from paintings and drawings by the most distin- guished artists, of the following celebrated Uorses, carefully printed on Indi* fiiper : Sir Archy, American Eclipse, Slack Maria, Boston, Lexington, Prior, Lantern, Pocahontas, Glencoe, Lady Suffolk, Stella, Whalebone, Fashion. Flora Temple, Black Uank, Alice Grey, Ethan Allen, Ac. Ac. Embellished with Vignette Title-pages, from original designs by F. 0. C. Darley, finely engraved on Steel by the most eminent engravers, including numerous fine wood engravings. GENERAL CONTENTS. 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Edited by his twin-brother, Lewis Gay- lord Clark, editor of " The Knickerbocker Magazine." New edition, 1 vol., 8vo., cloth, $1 CO OUT OF THE DEPTHS: The Story of a Woman's Life. 870 pp., 12mo., cloth, $1 00 LIFE BEFORE HIM : A Novel of American Life. iOO pp., 12iD0., cloth, *1 00 W. A. TOWNSEND & CO. THE POCKET GUIDE FOR AMERICANS GOING TO Europe. Containing information absolutely essential to every one intending to go abroad, respecting Passports, and how to get them, with form of application ; Securing Passage ; Money, and how to carry it safely ; Baggage ; European Hotels ; Guides and Gratuities ; The European Passport System ; Advice to Ladies ; European Currency, with a Table of Value in American Coin; Remedies for Sea.Sickness ; Custom House Regulations ; Vocabulary of Words and Phraset in French, German, and Italian ; List of American Ministers, Secretaries of Lega- tion, and Consuls in Europe, etc. Neat 18mo., cloth, flexible, 10 50 "A tiny volume, in a flexible cover, not half so massive as a pocket-book, containing information about travelling to and in Europe, which may save hun- dreds of dollars, with losses of time and temper, to American tourists. A jewel of a little volume." — Phila. Press. A BACHELOR'S STORY. By Oliver Bunce. Neat 16mo., fancy cloth, flexible, $0 BO "A Gentleman that loves to hear himself talk; and will speak more In a minute than he will stand to in a month." AGAINST WIND AND TIDE. By Holme Lee, author ot " Kathie Brande," " Sylvan Holt's Daughter," etc. 440 pp., 12mo., cloth, %\ OH , " With much of the terseness and vigor of 'Adam Bede,' it has a refinement which we do not find in that very clever work, and a combined knowledge of the world and insight into character which renders the tale startUngly real and life- like." — London, Literary Gazette. HOUSEKEEPING MADE EASY : A Complete Instructor in all Branches of Cookery and Domestic Economy. By Mrs. Ellis. Containing the most useful and approved Recipes of Daily Service in all Families. Edited by Mrs. Mowatt. New edition, revised and enlarged, with numerous Illustrations. Paper, tO 23 *^* Any Book enumerated in this Catalogue zvill be mailed to any address in the United States^ post-free, upon receipt of tlic price annexed. **^ gnv 3^mnlcatt goitl cf ^nusiuiU Jjutere^t/ LIFE BEFORE HIM, A NOVEL OF AMERICAN LIFE. One Vol. i2mo., Cloth, 401 Pages, Price $1.00. From the New York Observer. "Fresh, lively, and vigoroua in its style, original and striking in its plot, and well sustained in its execution, this is a novel of more than common ability and merit. Its characters are drawn with great freedom and naturalness, and tho story keeps up the reader's interest, without flagging, from the beginning to the end." From the Philadelphia NorOi American. "This well-told tale is simply a fine illustration of tho old strugglo of ambition with destiny, art with hardship, youth with fortune. * ♦ * There are many pages tilled wiih charming tliought, and many others gushing with poetry and pathos." From the Home Journal. "A book of sinprular originality and genius. . . . Its style is brisk, fresh and vivid ; its characters are such living flesh -and-blood creations as to flit before you, not like unsubstantial pageants, but positive entities The whole tone and temper of llie book is hearty and delightful^ and tlie views of life the most pleasant and en- trancing we ever read. Occasionally the autlior steps out of his story to address the reader, and then his humor flashes; he is fanciful, brisk, and fascinating." Froin the Boalon Bte. " There are indications in this book, of genias ; and of a stamp thnt is fresh, young, bright and hopeful. ♦ ♦ * "We have not taken in Land a book for a long lime which has so pleased ua." W. A. TOWNSEND 6c Co., PnblUhcrs, 4.0 AValker Street, N. Y. -AuLL ^BOUT IT; OR, THE HISTORY AND MYSTERY OF COMMON THINGS. One volume, 12mo., 360 pp. Price $1. (Sent by mail to any address, on receipt of the price.) In this volume is condensed a vast amount of information upon almost every sub- ject within the range of Art and Science, or in relation to the history and uses of Natural and Artificial Productions. It afifords a library in itself, and serves to post tbo reader in those thousand matters of Fact and Information so necessary to every person of intelligence, and yet so inaccessible to ordinary research. ITS CONTENTS EmBRACE ALL ABOUT Tea, Coffee, Cocoa, ChocoUate, and other Infusions. ALL ABOUT Tropical and Imported Fruits, their manner of growth, etc. ALL ABOUT Coal and its formation, Salt, and the Salt Mines. ALL ABOUT Leather and Tanning. ALL ABOUT Artificial Light, etc. ALL ABOUT Paper and Paper-making, Papier Mach6, etc. ALL ABOUT Glass, Porcelain, Pottery, China Ware, and other Wares. ALL ABOUT Textile Fabrics, Cotton, Linen, Wool, and Silk, and the innumar- able fabrics into which they are woven. ALL ABOUT Cereals, Grains, Breadstuff's, Bread Fruit, etc. ALL ABOUT Butter, Cheese, etc. ALL ABOUT Fermented Liquors, Wines, Malt Liquors, etc. ALL ABOUT Medicines, etc. ABOUT Spices, etc. ALL ABOUT Metals, Iron, Copper, Le.ad, Tin, etc., etc ALL ABOUT Minerals, the Precious Stones, etc., etc. ATT. ABOUT the Atmosphere, Electricity; ABOUT Geology; ABOUT Boots, Stems, and Leaves, etc. ALL ABOUT Engravings, Printing, the Arts .ind Sciences. ALL ABOUT Winds, Waves, Tides, etc. ALL ABOUT a Thousand Miscellaneous Subjects, INVALUABLE FOE CONVENIENT EEFEKENCE. AGENTS and CANVASSERS will find this a most profitable work to sell, as It Bupplies a want felt by all classes, in all sections of the country. Full particulars furnished on application to the publishers, W. A. TO^VNSEi^D & CO., 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 ^^^^^^^^^^^ ^' .^ m * • b a « » 1 si^^^^H ^^^ ^^^Hiiiilllil iliMiii ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H^l^^^^; p