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«lf ; atul when her last shadow of sleepiness wa».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 tecial watch over the soldiers 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 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 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; anling 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 glaug-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]»res6iband 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 warne4 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