LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA; 
 
 Class 
 
THE TWELVE BEST TALES 
 BY ENGLISH WRITERS 
 
UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME 
 
 BEST ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH 
 BALLADS 
 
 Selected by EDWARD A. BRYANT 
 
 With frontispiece. Gilt top. lOnto, 
 cloth, net $0.75. Leather, net $1.36. 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 
 New York 
 
THE 
 
 Ctoeltoe Best Caies 
 
 BY ENGLISH WRITERS 
 
 SELECTED BY 
 
 ADAM L. GOWANS, M.A. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1911, 
 BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 WHEN it is explained that this selection is re- 
 stricted to the work of authors no longer living and 
 to stories not exceeding 15,000 words in length, it is 
 evident to any one who has a moderate acquaintance 
 with English literature that the field of selection is 
 immensely narrowed and the title chosen for the 
 volume not nearly so presumptuous as it may at 
 first sight seem. For the short story was strangely 
 neglected by the great English prose-writers before 
 the beginning of last century. Why this should 
 have been so when they had the examples of 
 Boccaccio's " Decameron" and Cervantes's "Exem- 
 plary Novels" before them, it is difficult to say; at 
 any rate, neither Fielding nor Swift, neither Steele 
 nor Addison, attempted to emulate those great 
 story-tellers, and we find no thoroughly satisfactory 
 example of the art till we reach the time of Sir 
 Walter Scott. 
 
 "Wandering Willie's Tale," though incorporated 
 in the romance of " Redgauntlet," is easily detached, 
 and is in every sense of the term a masterpiece. If 
 not the best of the twelve, it is excelled by none. 
 Nowhere is Sir Walter's genius more brilliantly dis- 
 played, his thorough knowledge of the characters 
 
 228527 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 and motives of his fellow-men and the kindly dis- 
 position which could make due allowance for their 
 frailties and follies in relating them. 
 
 The tale which follows, James Hogg's "Mys- 
 terious Bride," is the best of those weird legends, 
 purporting to be founded on local traditions, which 
 he told so well. 
 
 The work of Charles Dickens bulks largely in the 
 history of English fiction, and he is here represented 
 by four stories. They are in four quite different 
 manners. In the first, "The Bagman's Story," 
 there is the rollicking fun and the youthful merri- 
 ment of "The Pickwick Papers," from which it is 
 extracted. "The Story of Richard Doubledick" 
 was published at a time when the Crimean War and 
 the alliance between England and France directed 
 the thoughts of all to the old days of enmity. Its 
 faults are obvious, the over-display of emotion, 
 the dramatic expression of virtuous sentiments, such 
 as are to be found in plenty in Robertson's " Caste" 
 and other productions typical of the period, which 
 our more reserved age sneers at as "Early Vic- 
 torian," but which were undoubtedly sincere, 
 but they are more than redeemed by the noble 
 enthusiasm which pervades the whole tale. "Hunt- 
 ed Down" is the one representative in this volume 
 of the so-called detective story. It is an ugly name 
 why have we not a better in our language, like 
 
PREFACE vii 
 
 the German Kriminalgeschichte? "To be Taken 
 with a Grain of Salt," the fourth and last of the 
 Dickens selection, is the ripest and most masterly. 
 The circumstantial manner adopted in telling this 
 ghost-story was initiated by Defoe in "The Appa- 
 rition of Mrs. Veal," but it is here improved and 
 perfected, and the result is a masterpiece of its kind. 
 
 Thackeray's "Princess's Tragedy" could not be 
 forcibly removed from the novel of "Barry Lyn- 
 don," in which it is embedded, without showing 
 rough edges here and there, but I was unwilling to 
 leave unrepresented so great a name, and there is 
 no other example of the story of intrigue in the 
 present volume. 
 
 The authoress of "Cranford" is represented here 
 by two remarkable tales, in which beneath great 
 simplicity and directness of language the most 
 consummate art is concealed. I know no more 
 moving tale in English literature than "The Half- 
 Brothers," none that it is more difficult to read 
 without emotion; while "The Old Nurse's Tale" is 
 among the best ghost-stories in the language. 
 
 What need I say of "Rab and his Friends"? 
 It is known in every English household; it is the 
 homeliest of all famous short stories. 
 
 Had it not been for copyright difficulties, I 
 should have selected, to represent Stevenson, "The 
 Bottle Imp" and "The Isle of Voices." They are 
 
viii PREFACE 
 
 not better than the two short stories included here, 
 but their scenes are laid in a country with which 
 Stevenson's name will always be associated, while 
 their plots have the charm of entire novelty. The 
 two I have chosen, however, show his powers at their 
 best. "The Sire de Maletroit's Door" exhibits the 
 playful side, "Markheim" the serious side, of his 
 character. The latter story bears a solemn message 
 for us all; the dialogue in which the unnamed 
 Stranger gradually makes plain his Divine purpose, 
 and stands revealed at last as the Saviour of men, 
 reaches an intensity unsurpassed in literature and 
 may fittingly suggest thoughts that will occupy our 
 minds long after we have closed the volume. 
 The publishers have in preparation similar 
 selections, made by eminent critics, from the best 
 short stories in the French, German, and other lan- 
 guages. Many delightful tales will in this way be 
 placed for the first time within the reach of the 
 American public, and the volumes will be found to 
 be of the most absorbing interest by all lovers of 
 good literature. A T n 
 
 A. J-. \j. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE ( 1 8 24) S*V Walter Scott i 
 
 THE BAGMAN'S STORY (1837) . . Charles Dickens 33 
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE (1830) . . James Hogg 59 
 
 THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY ( 1 844, W. M. Thackeray 87 
 
 THE OLD NURSE'S TALE (1852) . . Mrs.Gaskell 123 
 
 THE STORY OK RICHARD DOUBLEDICK (1854) 
 
 Charles Dickens 163 
 
 THE HALF-BROTHERS (1858) . . . Mrs.Gaskell 191 
 
 RAB AND HIS FRIENDS (1858) . . Dr. John Brown 213 
 
 HUNTED DOWN (1860) .... Charles Dickens' 239 
 
 To BE TAKEN WITH A GRAIN OP SALT (1865) 
 
 Charles Dickens 281 
 
 THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR (1878) 
 
 Robert Louis Stevenson 303 
 
 MARKHEIM (1885) . . . Robert Louis Stevenson 339--"" 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 
 BY SIR WALTER SCOTT 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 
 
 YE maun have heard of Sir Robert Redgauntlet 
 of that Ilk, who lived in these parts before the dear 
 years. The country will lang mind him; and our 
 fathers used to draw breath thick if ever they heard 
 him named. He was out wi' the Hielandmen in 
 Montrose's time; and again he was in the hills wi' 
 Glencairn in the saxteen hundred and fifty- twa; and 
 sae when King Charles the Second came in, wha was 
 in sic favour as the Laird of Redgauntlet? He was 
 knighted at Lonon court, wi' the King's ain sword; 
 and being a red-hot prelatist, he came down here, 
 rampauging like a lion, with commissions of lieu- 
 tenancy (and of lunacy, for what I ken) to put down 
 a' the Whigs and Covenanters in the country. Wild 
 wark they made of it; for the Whigs were as dour as 
 the Cavaliers were fierce, and it was which should 
 first tire the other. Redgauntlet was aye for the 
 strong hand; and his name is ken'd as wide in the 
 country as Claverhouse's or Tam Daly ell's. Glen, 
 nor dargle, nor mountain, nor cave, could hide the 
 puir hill-folk when Redgauntlet was out with bugle 
 and bloodhound after them, as if they had been sae 
 mony deer. And troth when they fand them, they 
 didna mak muckle mair ceremony than a Hieland- 
 3 
 
4 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 man wi' a roebuck, It was just, " Will ye tak the 
 test?" if not "Make ready present fire!" 
 and there lay the recusant. 
 
 Far and wide was Sir Robert hated and feared. 
 Men thought he had a direct compact with Satan 
 
 that he was proof against steel and that bullets 
 happed aff his buff-coat like hailstanes from a hearth 
 
 that he had a mear that would turn a hare on the 
 side of Carriefrawgauns and muckle to the same 
 purpose, of whilk mair anon. The best blessing they 
 wared on him was, "Deil scowp wi' Redgauntlet!" 
 He wasna a bad master to his ain folk, though, and 
 was weel aneuch liked by his tenants; and as for the 
 lackeys and troopers that rade out wi' him to the 
 persecutions, as the Whigs ca'd those killing times, 
 they wad hae drunken themsel's blind to his health 
 at ony time. 
 
 Now you are to ken that my gudesire lived on 
 Redgauntlet's grund they ca' the place Primrose 
 Knowe. We had lived on the grund, and under the 
 Redgauntlets, since the riding-days, and lang before. 
 It was a pleasant bit; and I think the air is callerer 
 and fresher there than ony where else in the country. 
 It's a' deserted now; and I sat on the broken door- 
 cheek three days since, and was glad I couldna see 
 the plight the place was in; but that's a' wide o' the 
 mark. There dwelt my gudesire, Steenie Steenson, 
 a rambling, rattling chieP he had been in his young 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 5 
 
 days, and could play weel on the pipes; he was 
 famous at " Hoopers and Girders" a' Cumberland 
 couldna touch him at " Jockie La t tin" and he had 
 the finest finger for the back-lilt between Berwick 
 and Carlisle. The like o' Steenie wasna the sort that 
 they made Whigs o'. And so he became a Tory, as 
 they ca' it, which we now ca' Jacobites, just out of a 
 kind of needcessity, that he might belang to some 
 side or other. He had nae ill-will to the Whig bodies, 
 and liked little to see the blude rin, though, being 
 obliged to follow Sir Robert in hunting and hoisting, 
 watching and warding, he saw muckle mischief, and 
 maybe did some that he couldna avoid. 
 
 Now Steenie was a kind of favorite with his 
 master, and ken'd a' the folks about the castle, and 
 was often sent for to play the pipes when they were 
 at their merriment. Auld Dougal MacCallum, the 
 butler, that had followed Sir Robert through gude 
 and ill, thick and thin, pool and stream, was specially 
 fond of the pipes, and aye gaed my gudesire his gude 
 word wi' the Laird; for Dougal could turn his 
 master round his finger. 
 
 Weel, round came the Revolution, and it had like 
 to have broken the hearts baith of Dougal and his 
 master. But the change was not a'thegither sae 
 great as they feared and other folk thought for. The 
 Whigs made an unco era wing what they wad do with 
 their auld enemies, and in special wi' Sir Robert 
 
6 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Redgauntlet. But there were ower mony great folks 
 dipped in the same doings, to mak a spick and span 
 new warld. So Parliament passed it a' ower easy; 
 and Sir Robert, bating that he was held to hunting 
 foxes instead of Covenanters, remained just the man 
 he was. His revel was as loud, and his hall as weel 
 lighted, as ever it had been, though maybe he lacked 
 the fines of the nonconformists, that used to come to 
 stock his larder and cellar; for it is certain he began 
 to be keener about the rents than his tenants used to 
 find him before, and they behoved to be prompt to 
 the rent-day, or else the Laird wasna pleased. And 
 he was sic an awesome body, that naebody cared to 
 anger him; for the oaths he swore, and the rage that 
 he used to get into, and the looks that he put on 
 made men sometimes think him a devil incarnate. 
 
 Weel, my gudesire was nae manager no that he 
 was a very great misguider but he hadna the sav- 
 ing gift, and he got twa terms' rent in arrear. He got 
 the first brash at Whitsunday put ower wi' fair word 
 and piping; but when Martinmas came, there was a 
 summons from the grund-officer to come wi' the rent 
 on a day preceese, or else Steenie behoved to flit. 
 Sair wark he had to get the siller; but he was weel 
 freended, and at last he got the haill scraped the- 
 gither a thousand merks the maist of it was from 
 a neighbor they ca'd Laurie Lapraik a sly tod. 
 Laurie had walth o' gear could hunt wi' the hound 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 7 
 
 and rin wi' the hare and be Whig or Tory,saunt or 
 sinner, as the wind stood. He was a professor in this 
 Revolution warld, and he liked an orra sough of this 
 warld, and a tune on the pipes weel aneuch at a by- 
 time; and abune a', he thought he had gude security 
 for the siller he lent my gudesire ower the stocking 
 at Primrose Knowe. 
 
 Away trots my gudesire to Redgauntlet Castle wi' 
 a heavy purse and a light heart, glad to be out of the 
 Laird's danger. Weel, the first thing he learned at 
 the castle was, that Sir Robert had fretted himseP 
 into a fit of the gout, because he did not appear be- 
 fore twelve o'clock. It wasna a'thegither for sake of 
 the money, Dougal thought, but because he didna 
 like to part wi' my gudesire aff the grund. Dougal 
 was glad to see Steenie, and brought him into the 
 great oak parlor, and there sat the Laird his lee- 
 some lane, excepting that he had beside him a great, 
 ill-favored jackanape, that was a special pet of his; 
 a cankered beast it was, and mony an ill-natured 
 trick it played ill to please it was, and easily 
 angered ran about the haill castle, chattering and 
 yowling, and pinching and biting folk, specially 
 before ill weather or disturbances in the State. Sir 
 Robert ca'd it Major Weir, after the warlock that 
 was burnt; and few folk liked either the name or 
 the conditions of the creature they thought there 
 was something in it by ordinar and my gudesire 
 
8 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 was not just easy in mind when the door shut on 
 him, and he saw himself in the room wi' naebody 
 but the Laird, Dougal MacCallum, and the Major, 
 a thing that hadna chanced to him before. 
 
 Sir Robert sat, or, I should say, lay, in a great 
 arm-chair, wi' his grand velvet gown, and his feet on 
 a cradle; for he had baith gout and gravel, and his 
 face looked as gash and ghastly as Satan's. Major 
 Weir sat opposite to him, in a red laced coat and the 
 Laird's wig on his head; and aye as Sir Robert 
 girned wi' pain, the jackanape girned too, like a 
 sheep's head between a pair of tangs an ill-faur'd, 
 fearsome couple they were. The Laird's Duff-coat 
 was hung on a pin behind him, and his broadsword 
 and his pistols within reach; for he keepit up the 
 auld fashion of having the weapons ready and a 
 horse saddled day and night, just as he used to do 
 when he was able to loup on horseback, and away 
 after ony of the hill-folk he could get speerings of. 
 Some said it was for fear of the Whigs taking ven- 
 geance, but I judge it was just his auld custom he 
 wasna gien to fear onything. The rental-book, wi' 
 its black cover and brass clasps, was lying beside 
 him; and a book of sculduddery sangs was put 
 betwixt the leaves, to keep it open at the place where 
 it bore evidence against the goodman of Primrose 
 Knowe, as behind the hand with his mails and 
 duties. Sir Robert gave my gudesire a look, as if he 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 9 
 
 would have withered his heart in his bosom. Ye 
 maun ken he had a way of bending his brows, that 
 men saw the visible mark of a horse-shoe in his fore- 
 head, deep dinted, as if it had been stamped there. 
 
 "Are ye come light-handed, ye son of a toom 
 whistle?" said Sir Robert. "Zounds! if you are " 
 
 My gudesire, with as gude a countenance as he 
 could put on, made a leg, and placed the bag of 
 money on the table wi' a dash, like a man that does 
 something clever. The Laird drew it to him hastily 
 "Is it all here, Steenie, man?" 
 
 "Your honor will find it right," said my gudesire. 
 
 "Here, Dougal," said the Laird, "gie Steenie a 
 tass of brandy down-stairs, till I count the siller and 
 write the receipt." 
 
 But they werena weel out of the room when Sir 
 Robert gied a yelloch that garred the castle rock. 
 Back ran Dougal in flew the livery-men yell on 
 yell gied the Laird, ilk ane mair awfu' than the ither. 
 My gudesire knew not whether to stand or flee, but 
 he ventured back into the parlor, where a' was gaun 
 hirdy-girdy naebody to say "come in" or "gae 
 out." Terribly the Laird roared for cauld water to 
 his feet and wine to cool his throat; and Hell, hell, 
 hell, and its flames was aye the word in his mouth. 
 They brought him water, and when they plunged 
 his swollen feet into the tub he cried out it was 
 burning; and folk said that it did bubble and 
 
IO BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 sparkle like a seething cauldron. He flung the cup 
 at Dougal's head, and said he had given him blood 
 instead of Burgundy; and, sure aneuch, the lass 
 washed clotted blood aff the carpet the neist day. 
 The jackanape they ca'd Major Weir, it jibbered 
 and cried as if it was mocking its master; my gude- 
 sire's head was like to turn he forgot baith siller 
 and receipt, and down-stairs he banged; but as he 
 ran, the shrieks came faint and fainter; there was 
 a deep-drawn shivering groan, and word gaed 
 through the castle that the Laird was dead. 
 
 Weel, away came my gudesire wi' his finger in 
 his mouth, and his best hope was, that Dougal had 
 seen the money-bag, and heard the Laird speak of 
 writing the receipt. The young Laird, now Sir John, 
 came from Edinburgh to see things put to rights. 
 Sir John and his father never gree'd weel. Sir John 
 had been bred an advocate, and afterwards sat in 
 the last Scots Parliament and voted for the Union, 
 having gotten, it was thought, a rug of the compen- 
 sations if his father could have come out of his 
 grave, he would have brained him for it on his awn 
 hearthstane. Some thought it was easier counting 
 with the auld rough knight than the fair-spoken 
 young ane but mair of that anon. 
 
 Dougal MacCallum, poor body, neither grat nor 
 grained, but gaed about the house looking like a 
 corpse, but directing, as was his duty, a' the order 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE n 
 
 of the grand funeral. Now, Dougal looked aye waur 
 and waur when night was coming, and was aye the 
 last to gang to his bed, whilk was in a little round 
 just opposite the chamber of dais, whilk his master 
 occupied while he was living, and where he now lay 
 in state, as they ca'd it, weel-a-day! The night 
 before the funeral, Dougal could keep his awn 
 counsel nae langer; he came doun with his proud 
 spirit, and fairly asked auld Hutcheon to sit in his 
 room with him for an hour. When they were in the 
 round, Dougal took ae tass of brandy to himser 
 and gave another to Hutcheon, and wished him all 
 health and lang life, and said that, for himser, he 
 wasna lang for this world; for that every night 
 since' Sir Robert's death his silver call had sounded 
 from the state-chamber, just as it used to do at 
 nights in his lifetime, to call Dougal to help to turn 
 him in his bed. Dougal said that, being alone with 
 the dead on that floor of the tower (for naebody 
 cared to wake Sir Robert Redgauntlet like another 
 corpse), he had never daured to answer the call, but 
 that now his conscience checked him for neglecting 
 his duty; for, "though death breaks service," said 
 MacCallum/"it shall never break my service to 
 Sir Robert; and I will answer his next whistle, so 
 be you will stand by me, Hutcheon." 
 
 Hutcheon had nae will to the wark, but he had 
 stood by Dougal in battle and broil, and he wad 
 
12 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 not fail him at this pinch; so down the carles sat 
 ower a stoup of brandy, and Hutcheon, who was 
 something of a clerk, would have read a chapter of 
 the Bible; but Dougal would hear naething but a 
 blaud of Davie Lindsay, whilk was the waur prep- 
 aration. 
 
 When midnight came, and the house was quiet 
 as the grave, sure enough the silver whistle sounded 
 as sharp and shrill as if Sir Robert was blowing it, 
 and up got the twa auld serving-men, and tottered 
 into the room where the dead man lay. Hutcheon 
 saw eneuch at the first glance; for there were torches 
 in the room, which showed him the foul fiend, in his 
 ain shape, sitting on the Laird's coffin! Ower he 
 couped as if he had been dead. He could not tell 
 how lang he lay in a trance at the door, but when he 
 gathered himself, he cried on his neighbor, and 
 getting nae answer, raised the house, when Dougal 
 was found lying dead within twa steps of the bed 
 where his master's coffin was placed. As for the 
 whistle, it was gane anes and aye; but mony a time 
 was it heard at the top of the house on the bartizan 
 and amang the auld chimneys and turrets where the 
 howlets have their nests. Sir John hushed the 
 matter up, and the funeral passed over without mair 
 bogle work. 
 
 But when a' was ower, and the Laird was be- 
 ginning to settle his affairs, every tenant was called 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 13 
 
 up for his arrears, and my gudesire for the full sum 
 that stood against him in the rental-book. Weel, 
 away he trots to the castle to tell his story, and 
 there he is introduced to Sir John, sitting in his 
 father's chair, in deep mourning, with weepers and 
 hanging cravat, and a small walking rapier by his 
 side, instead of the auld broadsword that had a 
 hundredweight of steel about it, what with blade, 
 chape, and basket-hilt. I have heard their commun- 
 ings so often tauld ower, that I almost think I was 
 there mysel', though I couldna be born at the time. 
 (In fact, Alan, my companion mimicked, with a 
 good deal of humor, the flattering, conciliating tone 
 of the tenant's address, and the hypocritical melan- 
 choly of the Laird's reply. His grandfather, he 
 said, had, while he spoke, his eye fixed on the 
 rental-book, as if it were a mastiff-dog that he was 
 afraid would spring up and bite him.) 
 
 "I wuss ye joy, sir, of the head seat, and the 
 white loaf, and the braid lairdship. Your father 
 was a kind man to friends and followers; muckle 
 grace to you, Sir John, to fill his shoon his boots, 
 I suld say, for he seldom wore shoon, unless it were 
 muils when he had the gout." 
 
 "Ay, Steenie," quoth the Laird, sighing deeply, 
 and putting his napkin to his een, "his was a sudden 
 call, and he will be missed in the country; no time 
 to set his house in order weel prepared Godward, 
 
14 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 no doubt, which is the root of the matter but left 
 us behind a tangled hesp to wind, Steenie. Hem! 
 hem! We maun go to business, Steenie; much to 
 do, and little time to do it in." 
 
 Here he opened the fatal volume. I have heard 
 of a thing they call Doomsday-book I am clear 
 it has been a rental of back-ganging tenants. 
 
 "Stephen," said Sir John, still in the same soft, 
 sleekit tone of voice "Stephen Stevenson, or 
 Steenson, ye are down here for a year's rent behind 
 the hand due at last term." 
 
 Stephen. "Please your honor, Sir John, I paid 
 it to your father." 
 
 Sir John. "Ye took a receipt, then, doubtless, 
 Stephen; and can produce it?" 
 
 Stephen. "Indeed, I hadna time, an it like your 
 honor; for nae sooner had I set doun the siller, and 
 just as his honor, Sir Robert, that's gaen, drew it 
 till him to count it, and write out the receipt, he 
 was taen wi' the pains that removed him." 
 
 "That was unlucky," said Sir John, after a pause. 
 "But ye maybe paid it in the presence of somebody. 
 I want but a tails quails evidence, Stephen. I would 
 go ower strictly to work with no poor man." 
 
 Stephen. "Troth, Sir John, there was naebody in 
 the room but Dougal MacCallum, the butler. But, 
 as your honor kens, he has e'en followed his auld 
 master." 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 15 
 
 "Very unlucky again, Stephen," said Sir John, 
 without altering his voice a single note. "The man 
 to whom ye paid the money is dead and the man 
 who witnessed the payment is dead, too and the 
 siller which should have been to the fore, is neither 
 seen nor heard tell of in the repositories. How am 
 I to believe a' this?" 
 
 Stephen. "I dinna ken, your honor; but there 
 is a bit memorandum note of the very coins; for, 
 God help me! I had to borrow out of twenty 
 purses; and I am sure that ilka man there set down 
 will take his grit oath for what purpose I borrowed 
 the money." 
 
 Sir John. "I have little doubt ye borrowed the 
 money, Steenie. It is the payment to my father that 
 I want to have some proof of." 
 
 Stephen. "The siller maunbe about the house, Sir 
 John. And since your honor never got it, and his 
 honor that was canna have taen it wi' him, maybe 
 some of the family may have seen it." 
 
 Sir John. "We will examine the servants, 
 Stephen; that is but reasonable." 
 
 But lackey and lass, and page and groom, all 
 denied stoutly that they had ever seen such a bag 
 of money as my gudesire described. What was 
 waur, he had unluckily not mentioned to any living 
 soul of them his purpose of paying his rent. Ae 
 quean had noticed something under his arm, but 
 she took it for the pipes. 
 
l6 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Sir John Redgauntlet ordered the servants out of 
 the room, and then said to my gudesire, "Now, 
 Steenie, ye see ye have fair play; and as I have 
 little doubt ye ken better where to find the siller 
 than ony other body, I beg in fair terms, and for 
 your own sake, that you will end this fasherie; for, 
 Stephen, ye maun pay or flit." 
 
 "The Lord forgie your opinion," said Stephen, 
 driven almost to his wit's end- "I am an honest 
 man." 
 
 "So am I, Stephen," said his honor, "and so are 
 all the folks in the house, I hope. But if there be a 
 knave amongst us, it must be he that tells the story 
 he cannot prove." He paused, and then added 
 mair sternly, "If I understand your trick, sir, you 
 want to take advantage of some malicious reports 
 concerning things in this family, and particularly 
 respecting my father's sudden death, thereby to 
 cheat me out of the money, and perhaps take away 
 my character, by insinuating that I have received 
 the rent I am demanding. Where do you suppose 
 this money to be? I insist upon knowing." 
 
 My gudesire saw everything look so muckle 
 against him that he grew nearly desperate how- 
 ever, he shifted from one foot to another, looked to 
 every corner of the room, and made no answer. 
 
 "Speak out, sirrah," said the Laird, assuming a 
 look of his father's, a very particular ane which he 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 17 
 
 had when he was angry it seemed as if the wrinkles 
 of his frown made that self-same fearful shape of a 
 horse's shoe in the middle of his brow; "Speak 
 out, sir! I will know your thoughts; do you sup- 
 pose that I have this money?" 
 
 "Far be it frae me to say so," said Stephen. 
 
 "Do you charge any of my people with having 
 taken it?" 
 
 "I wad be laith to charge them that may be 
 innocent," said my gudesire; "and if there be any 
 one that is guilty, I have nae proof." 
 
 "Somewhere the money must be, if there is a 
 word of truth in your story," said Sir John; "I ask 
 where you think it is and demand a correct 
 answer." 
 
 "In hell, if you will have my thoughts of it," 
 said my gudesire, driven to extremity "in hell! 
 with your father, his jackanape, and his silver 
 whistle." 
 
 Down the stairs he ran (for the parlor was nae 
 place for him after such a word), and he heard the 
 Laird swearing blood and wounds behind him as 
 fast as ever did Sir Robert, and roaring for the bailie 
 and the baron-officer. 
 
 Away rode my gudesire to his chief creditor (him 
 they ca'd Laurie Lapraik), to try if he could make 
 ony thing out of him; but when he tauld his story, 
 he got but the worst word in his wame thief, 
 
l8 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 beggar, and dyvour were the safest terms; and to 
 the boot of these hard terms Laurie brought up the 
 auld story of his dipping his hand in the blood of 
 God's saunts, just as if a tenant could have helped 
 riding with the laird, and that a laird like Sir Robert 
 Redgauntlet. My gudesire was by this time far 
 beyond the bounds of patience, and, while he and 
 Laurie were at deil speed the liars, he was wanchancy 
 aneuch to abuse Lapraik's doctrine as weel as the 
 man, and said things that garred folks' flesh grue 
 that heard them; he wasna just himsel', and he 
 had lived wi' a wild set in his day. 
 
 At last they parted, and my gudesire was to ride 
 hame through the wood of Pitmurkie, that is a' 
 fu' of black firs, as they say. I ken the wood, but 
 the firs may be black or white for what I can tell. 
 At the entry of the wood there is a wild common, 
 and on the edge of the common a little lonely change- 
 house, that was keepit then by an ostler wife, they 
 suld hae ca'd her Tibbie Faw, and there puir Steenie 
 cried for a mutchkin of brandy, for he had had no 
 refreshment the haill day. Tibbie was earnest wi 3 
 him to take a bit of meat, but he couldna think o't, 
 nor would he take his foot out of the stirrup, and 
 took off the brandy wholly at twa draughts, and 
 named a toast at each: the first was, the memory 
 of Sir Robert Redgauntlet, and might he never lie 
 quiet in his grave till he had righted his poor bond- 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 19 
 
 tenant; and the second was, a health to Man's 
 Enemy, if he would but get him back the poke of 
 siller, or tell him what came o't, for he saw the haill 
 world was like to regard him as a thief and a cheat, 
 and he took that waur than even the ruin of his 
 house and hauld. 
 
 On he rode, little caring where. It was a dark 
 night turned, and the trees made it yet darker, and 
 he let the beast take its ain road through the wood: 
 when all of a sudden, from tired and wearied that 
 it was before, the nag began to spring, and flee, and 
 stend, that my gudesire could hardly keep the 
 saddle. Upon the whilk a horseman, suddenly 
 riding up beside him, said, " That's a mettle beast 
 of yours, freend; will you sell him?" So saying, 
 he touched the horse's neck with his riding-wand, 
 and it fell into its auld heigh-ho of a stumbling trot. 
 "But his spunk's soon out of him, I think," con- 
 tinued the stranger, "and that is like mony a man's 
 courage, that thinks he wad do great things till he 
 comes to the proof." 
 
 My gudesire scarce listened to this, but spurred 
 his horse, with "Gude e'en to you, freend." 
 
 But it's like the stranger was ane that doesna 
 lightly yield his point; for, ride as Steenie liked, he 
 was aye beside him at the self-same pace. At last 
 my gudesire, Steenie Steenson, grew half angry, 
 and, to say the truth, half feared. 
 
20 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "What is it that ye want with me, freend?" he 
 said. "If ye be a robber, I have nae money; if ye 
 be a leal man, wanting company, I have nae heart 
 to mirth or speaking; and if you want to ken the 
 road, I scarce ken it myseP." 
 
 "If you will tell me your grief," said the stranger, 
 "I am one that, though I have been sair misca'd in 
 the world, am the only hand for helping my freends." 
 
 So my gudesire, to ease his ain heart mair than 
 from any hope of help, told him the story from 
 beginning to end. 
 
 "It's a hard pinch," said the stranger; "but I 
 think I can help you." 
 
 "If you could lend the money, sir, and take a lang 
 day I ken nae other help on earth," said my gude- 
 sire. 
 
 "But there may be some under the earth," said 
 the stranger. "Come, I'll be frank wi' you; I 
 could lend you the money on bond, but you would 
 maybe scruple my terms. Now, I can tell you that 
 your auld La^rd is disturbed in his grave by your 
 curses and the wailing of your family, and if ye daur 
 venture to go to see him, he will give you the 
 receipt." 
 
 My gudesire's hair stood on end at this proposal, 
 but he thought his companion might be some hu- 
 morsome chield that was trying to frighten him, and 
 might end with lending him the money. Besides, 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 2 I 
 
 he was bauld wi' brandy and desperate wi' distress; 
 and he said he had courage to go to the gate of hell 
 and a step farther for that receipt. The stranger 
 laughed. 
 
 Weel, they rode on through the thickest of the 
 wood, when all of a sudden the horse stopped at the 
 door of a great house; and, but that he knew the 
 place was ten miles off, my father would have 
 thought he was at Redgauntlet Castle. They rode 
 into the outer court-yard, through the muckle 
 faulding yetts, and aneath the auld portcullis; and 
 the whole front of the house was lighted, and there 
 were pipes and riddles, and as much dancing and 
 deray within as used to be at Sir Robert's house at 
 Pace and Yule, and such high seasons. They lap 
 off, and my gudesire, as seemed to him, fastened his 
 horse to the very ring he had tied him to that morn- 
 ing, when he gaed to wait on the young Sir John. 
 
 "God!" said my gudesire, "if Sir Robert's death 
 be but a dream!" 
 
 He knocked at the ha' door just as he was wont, 
 and his auld acquaintance, Dougal MacCallum 
 just after his wont, too came to open the door, 
 and said, "Piper Steenie, are ye there, lad? Sir 
 Robert has been crying for you." 
 
 My gudesire was like a man in a dream he 
 looked for the stranger, but he was gane for the 
 time. At last he just tried to say, "Ha! Dougal 
 
22 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Driveower, are ye living? I thought ye had been 
 dead." 
 
 "Never fash yourseP wi' me," said Dougal, "but 
 look to yourseP; and see that ye tak naething frae 
 onybody here, neither meat, drink, or siller, except 
 just the receipt that is your ain." 
 
 So saying, he led the way out through halls and 
 trances that were weel ken'd to my gudesire, and 
 into the auld oak parlor; and there was as much 
 singing of profane sangs, and birling of red wine, and 
 speaking blasphemy and sculduddery, as had ever 
 been in Redgauntlet Castle when it was at the 
 blithest. 
 
 But, Lord take us in keeping, what a set of 
 ghastly revellers they were that sat around that 
 table! My gudesire ken'd mony that had long 
 before gane to their place, for often had he piped 
 to the most part in the hall of Redgauntlet. There 
 was the fierce Middleton, and the dissolute Rothes, 
 and the crafty Lauderdale; and Dalyell, with his 
 bald head and a beard to his girdle; and Earlshall, 
 with Cameron's blude on his hand; and wild Bon- 
 shaw, that tied blessed Mr. Cargill's limbs till the 
 blude sprung; and Dunbarton Douglas, the twice- 
 turned traitor baith to country and king. There 
 was the Bluidy Advocate MacKenyie, who, for his 
 worldly wit and wisdom, had been to the rest as a 
 god. And there was Claverhouse, as beautiful as 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 23 
 
 when he lived, with his long, dark, curled locks 
 streaming down over his laced buff coat, and his 
 left-hand always on his right spule-blade, to hide 
 the wound that the silver bullet had made. He sat 
 apart from them all, and looked at them with a 
 melancholy, haughty countenance; while the rest 
 hallooed, and sung, and laughed, that the room 
 rang. But their smiles were fearfully contorted 
 from time to time; and their laugh passed into such 
 wild sounds as made my gudesire's very nails grow 
 blue, and chilled the marrow in his banes. 
 
 They that waited at the table were just the 
 wicked serving-men and troopers that had done 
 their work and cruel bidding on earth. There was 
 the Lang Lad of the Nether town, that helped to 
 take Argyle; and the Bishop's summoner, that they 
 called the Deil's Rattlebag; and the wicked guards- 
 men in their laced coats; and the savage Highland 
 Amorites, that shed blood like water; and mony a 
 proud serving-man, haughty of heart and bloody 
 of hand, cringing to the rich, and making them 
 wickeder than they would be, grinding the poor to 
 powder, when the rich had broken them to frag- 
 ments. And mony, mony mair were coming and 
 ganging, a' as busy in their vocation as if they had 
 been alive. 
 
 Sir Robert Redgauntlet, in the midst of a' this 
 fearful riot, cried, wi' a voice like thunder, on 
 
24 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Steenie Piper to come to the board-head where he 
 was sitting; his legs stretched out before him and 
 swathed up with flannel, with his holster pistols 
 aside him, while the great broadsword rested against 
 his chair, just as my gudesire had seen him the last 
 time upon earth the very cushion for the jacka- 
 nape was close to him, but the creature itsel' was not 
 there it wasna its hour, it's likely; for he heard 
 them say, as he came forward, "Is not the Major 
 come yet?" And another answered, " The jackanape 
 will be here betimes the morn." And w r hen my 
 gudesire came forward, Sir Robert, or his ghaist, or 
 the deevil in his likeness, said, "Weel, piper, hae ye 
 settled wi' my son for the year's rent?" 
 
 With much ado my father gat breath to say that 
 Sir John would not settle without his honor's receipt. 
 
 "Ye shall hae that for a tune of the pipes, Steenie," 
 said the appearance of Sir Robert" Play us up 
 1 Weel hoddled, Lucky.' 7 ' 
 
 Now this was a tune my gudesire learned frae a 
 warlock, that heard it when they were worshipping 
 Satan at their meetings; and my gudesire had some- 
 times played it at the ranting suppers in Red- 
 gauntlet Castle, but never very willingly ; and now 
 he grew cauld at the very name of it, and said, for 
 excuse, he hadna his pipes wi' him. 
 
 "MacCallum, ye limb of Beelzebub," said the 
 fearfu' Sir Robert, "bring Steenie the pipes that I 
 am keeping for him!" 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 25 
 
 MacCallum brought a pair of pipes might have 
 served the piper of Donald of the Isles. But he gave 
 my gudesire a nudge as he offered them: and 
 looking secretly and closely Steenie saw that the 
 chanter was of steel and heated to a white heat; so 
 he had fair warning not to trust his fingers with it. 
 So he excused himself again, and said he was faint 
 and frightened, and had not wind aneuch to fill the 
 bag. 
 
 "Then ye maun eat and drink, Steenie," said the 
 figure; "for we do little else here; and it's ill 
 speaking between a fu' man and a fasting." 
 
 Now these were the very words that the bloody 
 Earl of Douglas said to keep the King's messenger 
 in hand while he cut the head off MacLellan of 
 Bombie at the Threave Castle, and that put Steenie 
 mair and mair on his guard. So he spoke up like a 
 man, and said he came neither to eat, or drink, Of 
 make minstrelsy, but simply for his ain to ken 
 what was come o' the money he had paid, and to 
 get a discharge for it; and he was so stout-hearted 
 by this time that he charged Sir Robert for con- 
 science' sake (he had no power to say the holy 
 name) and as he hoped for peace and rest, to 
 spread no snares for him, but just to give him his ain. 
 
 The appearance gnashed its teeth and laughed, 
 but it took from a large pocket-book the receipt and 
 handed it to Steenie. "There is your receipt, ye 
 
2 6 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 pitiful cur; and for the money, my dog- whelp of a 
 son may go look for it in the Cat's Cradle." 
 
 My gudesire uttered mony thanks, and was about 
 to retire, when Sir Robert roared aloud, "Stop, 
 though, thou sack-doudling son of a whore! I am 
 not done with thee. HERE we do nothing for 
 nothing; and you must return on this very day 
 twelvemonth, to pay your master the homage that 
 you owe me for my protection." 
 
 My father's tongue was loosed of a suddenty, 
 and he said aloud, "I refer mysel' to God's pleasure 
 and not to yours. 
 
 He had no sooner uttered the word than all was 
 dark around him; and he sunk on the earth with 
 such a sudden shock that he lost both breath and 
 sense. 
 
 How lang Steenie lay there he could not tell; 
 but when he came to himsel' he was lying in the 
 auld kirkyard of Redgauntlet parochine, just at the 
 door of the family aisle, and the scutcheon of the 
 auld knight, Sir Robert, hanging over his head. 
 There was a deep morning fog on grass and grave- 
 stane around him, and his horse was feeding quietly 
 beside the minister's twa cows. Steenie would have 
 thought the whole was a dream, but he had the 
 receipt in his hand, fairly written and signed by the 
 auld Laird; only the last letters of his name were a 
 little disorderly, written like one seized with sudden 
 pain. . 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 27 
 
 Sorely troubled in his mind, he left that dreary 
 place, rode through the mist to Redgauntlet Castle, 
 and with much ado he got speech of the Laird. 
 
 "Well, you dyvour bankrupt," was the first word, 
 "have you brought me my rent?" 
 
 "No," answered my gudesire, "I have not; but 
 I have brought your honor Sir Robert's receipt for 
 it." 
 
 "How, sirrah? Sir Robert's receipt! You told 
 me he had not given you one." 
 
 "Will your honor please to see if that bit line is 
 right?" 
 
 Sir John looked at every line and at every letter 
 with much attention, and at last at the date, which 
 my gudesire had not observed, "From my ap- 
 pointed place" he read, "this twenty-fifth of Novem- 
 ber. What! That is yesterday! Villain, thou 
 must have gone to hell for this!" 
 
 "I got it from your honor's father whether he 
 be in heaven or hell, I know not," said Steenie. 
 
 "I will delate you for a warlock to the Privy 
 Council!" said Sir John. "I will send you to your 
 master, the devil, with the help of a tar-barrel and a 
 torch!" 
 
 "I intend to delate mysel' to the presbytery," 
 said Steenie, "and tell them all I have seen last 
 night, whilk are things fitter for them to judge of 
 than a borrel man like me." 
 
28 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Sir John paused, composed himseP, and desired 
 to hear the full history; and my gudesire told it him 
 from point to point, as I have told it you word 
 for word, neither more nor less. 
 
 Sir John was silent again for a long time, and at 
 last he said, very composedly, "Steenie, this story 
 of yours concerns the honor of many a noble family 
 besides mine; and if it be a leasing-making to keep 
 yourself out of my danger, the least you can expect 
 is to have a red-hot iron driven through your tongue 
 and that will be as bad as scauding your fingers wP 
 a red-hot chanter. But yet it may be true, Steenie; 
 and if the money cast up, I shall not know what to 
 think of it. But where shall we find the Cat's 
 Cradle? There are cats enough about the old house, 
 but I think they kitten without the ceremony of bed 
 or cradle." 
 
 " We were best ask Hutcheon," said my gudesire; 
 "he kens a' the odd corners about as weel as 
 another serving-man that is now gane, and that I 
 wad not like to name." 
 
 Aweel, Hutcheon, when he was asked, told them 
 that a ruinous turret, lang disused, next to the 
 clock-house, only accessible by a ladder, for the 
 opening was on the outside and far above the battle- 
 ments, was called of old the Cat's Cradle. 
 
 "There will I go immediately," said Sir John; 
 and he took (with what purpose Heaven kens) one 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 29 
 
 of his father's pistols from the hall table, where they 
 had lain since the night he died, and hastened to 
 the battlements. 
 
 It was a dangerous place to climb, for the ladder 
 was auld and frail, and wanted ane or twa rounds. 
 However, up got Sir John and entered at the turret- 
 door, where his body stopped the only little light 
 that was in the bit turret. Something flees at him 
 wT a vengeance, maist dang him back ower bang 
 gaed the knight's pistol, and Hutcheon that held 
 the ladder, and my gudesire that stood beside him, 
 hears a loud skelloch. A minute after, Sir John 
 flings the body of the jackanape down to them, and 
 cries that the siller is fund, and that they should 
 come up and help him. And there was the bag of 
 siller sure aneuch, and mony orra thing besides that 
 had been missing for mony a day. And Sir John, 
 when he had riped the turret weel, led my gudesire 
 into the dining-parlor, and took him by the hand 
 and spoke kindly to him, and said he was sorry he 
 should have doubted his word, and that he would 
 hereafter be a good master to him, to make amends. 
 
 "And now, Steenie," said Sir John, "although 
 this vision of yours tend, on the whole, to my 
 father's credit, as an honest man, that he should, 
 even after his death, desire to see justice done to a 
 poor man like you, yet you are sensible that ill- 
 dispositioned men might make bad constructions 
 
30 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 upon it concerning his soul's health. So I think we 
 had better lay the haill dirdum on that ill-deedie 
 creature, Major Weir, and sae naething about your 
 dream in the wood of Pitmurkie. You had taken 
 ower muckle brandy to be very certain about 
 ony thing; and Steenie, this receipt" (his hand 
 shook while he held it out) "it's but a queer kind 
 of document, and we will do best, I think, to put it 
 quietly in the fire." 
 
 "Od, but for as queer as it is, it's a' the voucher I 
 have for my rent," said my gudesire, who was 
 afraid, it may be, of losing the benefit of Sir Robert's 
 discharge. 
 
 "I will bear the contents to your credit in the 
 rental-book, and give you a discharge under my own 
 hand," said Sir John, "and that on the spot. And, 
 Steenie, if you can hold your tongue about this 
 matter, you shall sit, from this term downward, at 
 an easier rent." 
 
 "Mony thanks to your honor," said Steenie, who 
 saw easily in what corner the wind was; "doubtless 
 I will be conformable to all your honor's commands; 
 only I would willingly speak wi' some powerful 
 minister on the subject, for I do not like the sort 
 of soumons of appointment whilk your honor's 
 father" 
 
 "Do not call the phantom my father!" said Sir 
 John, interrupting him. 
 
WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE 31 
 
 "Weel, then, the thing that was so like him," said 
 my gudesire; "he spoke of my coming back to see 
 him thiL t ; me twelvemonth, and it's a weight on my 
 conscience." 
 
 " Aweel, then," said Sir John, "if you be so much 
 distressed in mind, you may speak to our minister 
 of the parish ; he is a douce man, regards the honor 
 of our family, and the mair that he may look for 
 some patronage from me." 
 
 Wi' that, my father readily agreed that the receipt 
 should be burnt, and the Laird threw it into the 
 chimney with his ain hand. Burn it would not for 
 them, though; but away it flew up the lum, wi' a 
 lang train of sparks at its tail and a hissing noise 
 like a squib. 
 
 My gudesire gaed down to the manse, and the 
 minister, when he had heard the story, said, it was 
 his real opinion that though my gudesire had gaen 
 very far in tampering with dangerous matters, yet, 
 as he had refused the devil's arles (for such was the 
 offer of meat and drink), and had refused to do 
 homage by piping at his bidding, he hoped that, 
 if he held a circumspect walk hereafter, Satan could 
 take little advantage by what was come and gane. 
 And, indeed, my gudesire of his ain accord lang 
 forswore baith the pipes and the brandy it was 
 not even till the year was out and the fatal day past 
 that he would so much as take the fiddle, or drink 
 usquebaugh or tippenny. 
 
32 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Sir John made up his story about the jackanape 
 as he liked himsel'; and some believe till this day 
 there was no more in the matter than the niching 
 nature of the brute. Indeed, ye'll no hinder some to 
 threap that it was nane o' the Auld Enemy that 
 Dougal and Hutcheon saw in the Laird's room, 
 but only that wanchancy creature the Major, 
 capering on the coffin; and that, as to the blawing 
 on the Laird's whistle that was heard after he was 
 dead, the filthy brute could do that as weel as the 
 Laird himsel', if no better. But Heaven kens the 
 truth, whilk first came out by the minister's wife, 
 after Sir John and her ain gudeman were baith in 
 the moulds. And then my gudesire, wha was failed 
 in his limbs, but not in his judgment or memory - 
 at least nothing to speak of was obliged to tell 
 the real narrative to his friends, for the credit of 
 his good name. He might else have been charged 
 for a warlock. 
 
THE BAGMAN'S STORY 
 BY CHARLES DICKENS 
 
THE BAGMAN'S STORY 
 
 ONE winter's evening, about five o'clock, just as it 
 began to grow dusk, a man in a gig might have been 
 seen urging his tired horse along the road which 
 leads across Marlborough Downs, in the direction 
 of Bristol. I say he might have been seen, and I 
 have no doubt he would have been, if anybody but 
 a blind man had happened to pass that way; but 
 the weather was so bad, and the night so cold 
 and wet, that nothing was out but the water, and 
 so the traveller jogged along in the middle of the 
 road, lonesome and dreary enough. If any bagman 
 of that day could have caught sight of the little 
 neck-or-nothing sort of gig, with a clay-colored 
 body and red wheels, and the vixenish, ill-tempered, 
 fast-going bay mare, that looked like a cross between 
 a butcher's horse and a two-penny post-office pony, 
 he would have known at once, that this traveller 
 could have been no other than Tom Smart, of the 
 great house of Bilson and Slum, Cateaton Street, 
 City. However, as there was no bagman to look on, 
 nobody knew anything at all about the matter; 
 and so Tom Smart and his clay-colored gig with the 
 red wheels, and the vixenish mare with the fast pace, 
 35 
 
36 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 went on together, keeping the secret among them: 
 and nobody was a bit the wiser. 
 
 There are many pleasanter places even in this 
 dreary world, than Marlborough Downs when it 
 blows hard; and if you throw in beside, a gloomy 
 winter's evening, a miry and sloppy "road, and a 
 pelting fall of heavy rain, and try the effect, by way 
 of experiment, in your own proper person, you will 
 experience the full force of this observation. 
 
 The wind blew not up the road or down it, 
 though that's bad enough, but sheer across it, send- 
 ing the rain slanting down like the lines they used to 
 rule in the copybooks at school, to make the boys 
 slope well. For a moment it would die away, and 
 the traveller would begin to delude himself into the 
 belief that, exhausted with its previous fury, it had 
 quietly lain itself down to rest, when, whoo! he 
 would hear it growling and whistling in the distance, 
 and on it would come rushing over the hill-tops, and 
 sweeping along the plain, gathering sound and 
 strength as it drew nearer, until it dashed with a 
 heavy gust against horse and man, driving the sharp 
 rain into their ears, and its cold damp breath into 
 their very bones; and past them it would scour, far, 
 far away, with a stunning roar, as if in ridicule of 
 their weakness, and triumphant in the consciousness 
 of its own strength and power. 
 
 The bay mare splashed away, through the mud 
 
THE BAGMAN'S STORY 37 
 
 and water, with drooping ears; now and then tossing 
 her head as if to express her disgust at this very 
 ungentlemanly behavior of the elements, but keep- 
 ing a good pace notwithstanding, until a gust of 
 wind, more furious than any that had yet assailed 
 them, caused her to stop suddenly and plant her 
 four feet firmly against the ground, to prevent her 
 being blown over. It's a special mercy that she did 
 this, for if she had been blown over, the vixenish 
 mare was so light, and the gig was so light, and Tom 
 Smart such a light weight into the bargain, that 
 they must infallibly have all gone rolling over and 
 over together, until they reached the confines of 
 earth, or until the wind fell; and in either case 
 the probability is, that neither the vixenish mare, 
 nor the clay-colored gig with the red wheels, nor 
 Tom Smart, would ever have been fit for service 
 again. 
 
 "Well, damn my straps and whiskers," says Tom 
 Smart (Tom sometimes had an unpleasant knack of 
 swearing), "Damn my straps and whiskers," says 
 Tom, "if this ain't pleasant, blow me!" 
 
 You'll very likely ask me why, as Tom Smart had 
 been pretty well blown already, he expressed this 
 wish to be submitted to the same process again. I 
 can't say all I know is, that Tom Smart said so 
 or at least he always told my uncle he said so, and 
 it's just the same thing. 
 
38 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "Blow me," says Tom Smart; and the mare 
 neighed as if she were precisely of the same opinion. 
 
 " Cheer up, old girl," said Tom, patting the bay 
 mare on the neck with the end of his whip. "It 
 won't do pushing on, such a night as this; the first 
 house we come to we'll put up at, so the faster you 
 go the sooner it's over. Soho, old girl gently 
 gently." 
 
 Whether the vixenish mare was sufficiently well 
 acquainted with the tones of Tom's voice to com- 
 prehend his meaning, or whether she found it colder 
 standing still than moving on, of course I can't say. 
 But I can say that Tom had no sooner finished 
 speaking, than she pricked up her ears, and started 
 forward at a speed which made the clay-colored gig 
 rattle till you would have supposed every one of the 
 red spokes was going to fly out on the turf of 
 Marlborough Downs; and even Tom, whip as he 
 was, couldn't stop or check her pace, until she drew 
 up, of her own accord, before a road-side inn on the 
 right-hand side of the way, about half a quarter of a 
 mile from the end of the Downs. 
 
 Tom cast a hasty glance at the upper part of the 
 house as he threw the reins to the hostler, and stuck 
 the whip in the box. It was a strange old place, 
 built of a kind of shingle, inlaid, as it were, with 
 cross-beams, with gabled-topped windows projecting 
 completely over the pathway, and a low door with 
 
THE BAGMAN'S STORY 39 
 
 a dark porch, and a couple of steep steps leading 
 down into the house, instead of the modern fashion 
 of half a dozen shallow ones leading up to it. It was 
 a comfortable-looking place though, for there was 
 a strong cheerful light in the bar-window, which 
 shed a bright ray across the road, and even lighted 
 up the hedge on the other side; and there was a red 
 flickering light in the opposite window, one moment 
 but faintly discernible, and the next gleaming 
 strongly through the drawn curtains, which inti- 
 mated that a rousing fire was blazing within. 
 Marking these little evidences with the eye of an 
 experienced traveller, Tom dismounted with as 
 much agility as his half-frozen limbs would permit, 
 and entered the house. 
 
 In less than five minutes' time, Tom was en- 
 sconced in the room opposite the bar - the very 
 room where he had imagined the fire blazing 
 before a substantial matter-of-fact roaring fire, 
 composed of something short of a bushel of coals, 
 and wood enough to make half a dozen decent 
 gooseberry bushes, piled halfway up the chimney, 
 and roaring and crackling with a sound that of 
 itself would have warmed the heart of any reasonable 
 man. This was comfortable, but this was not all, 
 for a smartly dressed girl, with a bright eye and a 
 neat ankle, was laying a very clean white cloth on 
 the table; and as Tom sat with his slippered feet on 
 
40 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 the fender, and his back to the open door, he saw a 
 charming prospect of the bar reflected in the glass 
 over the chimney-piece, with delightful rows of 
 green bottles and gold labels, together with jars oi; 
 pickles and preserves, and cheeses and boiled hams, 
 and rounds of beef, arranged on shelves in the most 
 tempting and delicious array. Well, this was com- 
 fortable too; but even this was not all for in the 
 bar, seated at tea at the nicest possible little table, 
 drawn close up before the brightest possible little 
 fire, was a buxom widow of somewhere about eight- 
 and-forty or thereabouts, with a face as comfortable 
 as the bar, who was evidently the landlady of the 
 house, and the supreme ruler over all these agreeable 
 possessions. There was only .one drawback to the 
 beauty of the whole picture, and that was a tall 
 man a very tall man in a brown coat and 
 bright basket buttons, and black whiskers, and 
 wavy black hair, who was seated at tea with the 
 widow, and who it required no great penetration to 
 discover was in a fair way of persuading her to be a 
 widow no longer, but to confer upon him the priv- 
 ilege of sitting down in that bar, for and during the. 
 whole remainder of the term of his natural life. 
 Tom Smart was by no means of an irritable or 
 envious disposition, but somehow or other the tall 
 man with the brown coat and the bright basket 
 buttons did rouse what little gall he had in his com- 
 
THE BAGMAN'S STORY 41 
 
 position, and did make him feel extremely indignant: 
 the more especially as he could now and then 
 observe, from his seat before the glass, certain little 
 affectionate familiarities passing between the tall 
 man and the widow, which sufficiently denoted that 
 the tall man was as high in favor as he was in size. 
 Tom was fond of hot punch I may venture to 
 say he was very fond of hot punch and after he 
 had seen the vixenish mare well fed and well littered 
 down, and had eaten every bit of the nice little hot 
 dinner which the widow tossed up for him with her 
 own hands, he just ordered a tumbler of it, by way 
 of experiment. Now, if there was one thing in the 
 whole range of domestic art, which the widow could 
 manufacture better than another, it was this iden- 
 tical article; and the first tumbler was adapted to 
 Tom Smart's taste with such peculiar nicety, that 
 he ordered a second with the least possible delay. 
 Hot punch is a pleasant thing, gentlemen an 
 extremely pleasant thing under any circumstances 
 but in that snug old parlor, before the roaring 
 fire, with the wind blowing outside till every timber 
 in the old house creaked again, Tom Smart found it 
 perfectly delightful. He ordered another tumbler, 
 and then another I am not quite certain whether 
 he didn't order another after that but the more 
 he drank of the hot punch, the more he thought of 
 the tall man. 
 
42 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "Confound his impudence!" said Tom to himself, 
 "what business has he in that snug bar? Such an 
 ugly villain too!" said Tom. "If the widow had 
 any taste, she might surely pick up some better 
 fellow than that." Here Tom's eye wandered from 
 the glass on the chimney-piece, to the glass on the 
 table; and as he felt himself becoming gradually 
 sentimental, he emptied the fourth tumbler of 
 punch and ordered a fifth. 
 
 Tom Smart, gentlemen, had always been very 
 much attached to the public line. It had long been 
 his ambition to stand in a bar of his own, in a green 
 coat, knee-cords, and tops. He had a great notion of 
 taking the chair at convivial dinners, and he had 
 often thought how well he could preside in a room 
 of his own in the talking way, and what a capital 
 example he could set to his customers in the drinking 
 department. All these things passed rapidly 
 through Tom's mind as he sat drinking the hot 
 punch by the roaring fire, and he felt very justly 
 and properly indignant that the tall man should be 
 in a fair way of keeping such an excellent house, 
 while he, Tom Smart, was as far off from it as ever. 
 So, after deliberating over the two last tumblers, 
 whether he hadn't a perfect right to pick a quarrel 
 with the tall man for having contrived to get into 
 the good graces of the buxom widow, Tom Smart at 
 last arrived at the satisfactory conclusion that he 
 
THE BAGMAN'S STORY .43 
 
 was a very ill-used and persecuted individual, and 
 had better go to bed. 
 
 Up a wide and ancient staircase the smart girl 
 preceded Tom, shading the chamber candle with 
 her hand, to protect it from the currents of air which 
 in such a rambling old place might have found 
 plenty of room to disport themselves in, without 
 blowing the candle out, but which did blow it out 
 nevertheless; thus affording Tom's enemies an 
 opportunity of asserting that it was he, and not the 
 wind, who extinguished the candle, and that while 
 he pretended to be blowing it alight again, he was in 
 fact kissing the girl. Be this as it may, another 
 light was obtained, and Tom was conducted through 
 a maze of rooms, and a labyrinth of passages, to the 
 apartment which had been prepared for his reception, 
 where the girl bade him good night, and left him 
 alone. 
 
 It was a good large room with big closets, and a 
 bed which might have served for a whole boarding- 
 school, to say nothing of a couple of oaken presses 
 that would have held the baggage of a small army; 
 but what struck Tom's fancy most was a strange, 
 grim-looking high-backed chair,- carved in the most 
 fantastic manner, with a flowered damask cushion, 
 and the round knobs at the bottom of the legs care- 
 fully tied up in red cloth, as if it had got the gout in 
 its toes. Of any other queer chair, Tom would only 
 
44 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 have thought it was a queer chair, and there would 
 have been an end of the matter; but there was 
 something about this particular chair, and yet he 
 couldn't tell what it was, so odd and so unlike any 
 other piece of furniture he had ever seen, that it 
 seemed to fascinate him. He sat down before the 
 fire, and stared at the old chair for half an hour. 
 Deuce take the chair, it was such a strange old 
 thing, he couldn't take his eyes off it. 
 
 "Well," said Tom, slowly undressing himself, and 
 staring at the old chair all the while, which stood 
 with a mysterious aspect by the bedside, "I never 
 saw such a rum concern as that in my days. Very 
 odd," said Tom, who had got rather sage with the 
 hot punch, "Very odd." Tom shook his head with 
 an air of profound wisdom, and looked at the chair 
 again. He couldn't make anything of it though, so 
 he got into bed, covered himself up warm, and fell 
 asleep. 
 
 In about half an hour, Tom woke up, with a 
 start, from a confused dream of tall men and 
 tumblers of punch: and the first object that pre- 
 sented itself to his waking imagination was the 
 queer chair. 
 
 "I won't look at it any more," said Tom to him- 
 self, and he squeezed his eyelids together, and tried 
 to persuade himself he was going to sleep again. 
 No use; nothing but queer chairs danced before his 
 
THE BAGMAN'S STORY 45 
 
 eyes, kicking up their legs, jumping over each 
 other's backs, and playing all kinds of antics. 
 
 "I may as well see one real chair, as two or three 
 complete sets of false ones," said Tom, bringing out 
 his head from under the bed-clothes. There it was, 
 plainly discernible by the light of the fire, looking as 
 provoking as ever. 
 
 Tom gazed at the chair; and, suddenly as he 
 looked at it, a most extraordinary change seemed 
 to come over it. The carving of the back gradually 
 assumed the lineaments and expression of an old 
 shrivelled human face; the damask cushion became 
 an antique, flapped waistcoat; the round knobs 
 grew into a couple of feet, encased in red cloth 
 slippers; and the old chair looked like a very ugly 
 old man, of the previous century, with his arms 
 akimbo. Tom sat up in bed, and rubbed his eyes 
 to dispel the illusion. No. The chair was an ugly 
 old gentleman ; and what was more, he was winking 
 at Tom Smart. 
 
 Tom was naturally a headlong, careless sort of 
 dog, and he had had five tumblers of hot punch into 
 the bargain; so, although he was a little startled at 
 first, he began to grow rather indignant when he 
 saw the old gentleman winking and leering at him 
 with such an impudent air. At length he resolved 
 that he wouldn't stand it; and as the old face still 
 
46 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 kept winking away as fast as ever, Tom said, in a 
 very angry tone: 
 
 "What the devil are you winking at me for?" 
 
 "Because I like it, Tom Smart," said the chair; 
 or the old gentleman, whichever you like to call 
 him. He stopped winking though, when Tom spoke, 
 and began grinning like a superannuated monkey. 
 
 "How do you know my name, old nut-cracker 
 face!" inquired Tom Smart, rather staggered; 
 though he pretended to carry it off so well. 
 
 "Come, come, Tom," said the old gentleman, 
 "that's not the way to address solid Spanish Ma- 
 hogany. Dam'me you couldn't treat me with less 
 respect if I was veneered." When the old gentleman 
 said this, he looked so fierce that Tom began to grow 
 frightened. 
 
 "I didn't mean to treat you with any disrespect, 
 sir," said Tom; in a much humbler tone than he had 
 spoken in at first. 
 
 "Well, well," said the old fellow, "perhaps not 
 perhaps not. Tom " 
 
 "Sir" 
 
 "I know everything about you, Tom; everything. 
 You're very poor, Tom." 
 
 "I certainly am," said Tom Smart. "But how 
 came you to know that?" 
 
 "Never mind that," said the old gentleman; 
 "you're much too fond of punch, Tom." 
 
THE BAGMAN'S STORY 47 
 
 Tom Smart was just on the point of protesting 
 that he hadn't tasted a drop since his last birthday, 
 but when his eye encountered that of the old gentle- 
 man, he looked so knowing that Tom blushed, and 
 was silent. 
 
 "Tom," said the old gentleman, "the widow's 
 a fine woman remarkably fine woman eh, 
 Tom?" Here the old fellow screwed up his eyes, 
 cocked up one of his wasted little legs, and looked 
 altogether so unpleasantly amorous, that Tom was 
 quite disgusted with the levity of his behavior; at 
 his time of life, too! 
 
 "I am her guardian, Tom," said the old gentle- 
 man. 
 
 "Are you?" inquired Tom Smart. 
 
 "I knew her mother, Tom," said the old fellow; 
 " and her grandmother. She was very fond of me 
 made me this waistcoat, Tom." 
 
 "Did she?" said Tom Smart. 
 
 "And these shoes," said the old fellow, lifting up 
 one of the red-cloth mufflers; "but don't mention 
 it, Tom. I shouldn't like to have it known that she 
 was so much attached to me. It might occasion 
 some unpleasantness in the family." When the old 
 rascal said this, he looked so extremely impertinent, 
 that, as Tom Smart afterwards declared, he could 
 have sat upon him without remorse. 
 
 "I have been a great favorite among the women in 
 
48 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 my time, Tom," said the profligate old debauchee; 
 "hundreds of fine women have sat in my lap for 
 hours together. What do you think of that, you 
 dog, eh!" The old gentleman was proceeding to 
 recount some other exploits of his youth, when he 
 was seized with such a violent fit of creaking that he 
 was unable to proceed. 
 
 "Just serves you right, old boy," thought Tom 
 Smart; but he didn't say anything. 
 
 "Ah!" said the old fellow, "I am a good deal 
 troubled with this now. I am getting old, Tom, and 
 have lost nearly all my rails. I have had an opera- 
 tion performed, too a small piece let into my 
 back and I found it a severe trial, Tom." 
 
 "I dare say you did, sir," said Tom Smart. 
 
 "However," said the old gentleman, "that's not 
 the point. Tom! I want you to marry the widow." 
 
 "Me, sir!" said Tom. 
 
 "You," said the old gentleman. 
 
 "Bless your reverend locks," said Tom (he 
 had a few scattered horse-hairs left) "bless your 
 reverend locks, she wouldn't have me." And Tom 
 sighed involuntarily, as he thought of the bar. 
 
 "Wouldn't she?" said the old gentleman, firmly. 
 
 "No, no," said Tom; "there's somebody else in 
 the wind. A tall man a confoundedly tall man 
 with black whiskers." 
 
 "Tom," said the old gentleman; "she will never 
 have him." 
 
THE BAGMAN'S STORY 49 
 
 "Won't she?" said Tom. "If you stood in the 
 bar, old gentleman, you'd tell another story." 
 
 "Pooh, pooh," said the old gentleman. "I know 
 all about that." 
 
 "About what?" said Tom. 
 
 "The kissing behind the door, and all that sort 
 of thing, Tom," said the old gentleman. And here 
 he gave another impudent look, which made Tom 
 very wroth, because, as you all know, gentlemen, 
 to hear an old fellow, who ought to know better, 
 talking about these things is very unpleasant 
 nothing more so. 
 
 "I know all about that, Tom," said the old gentle- 
 man. "I have seen it done very often in my time, 
 Tom, between more people than I should like to 
 mention to you; but it never came to anything after 
 all." 
 
 "You must have seen some queer things," said 
 Tom, with an inquisitive look. 
 
 "You may say that, Tom," replied the old fellow, 
 with a very complicated wink. " I am the last of my 
 family, Tom," said the old gentleman, with a 
 melancholy sigh. 
 
 "Was it a large one?" inquired Tom Smart. 
 
 "There were twelve of us, Tom," said the old 
 gentleman; "fine, straight-backed, handsome fel- 
 lows as you'd wish to see. None of your modern 
 abortions all with arms, and with a degree of 
 
50 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 polish, though I say it that should not, which would 
 have done your heart good to behold." 
 
 "And what's become of the others, sir?" asked 
 Tom Smart. 
 
 The old gentleman applied his elbow to his eye 
 as he replied, "Gone, Tom, gone. We had hard 
 service, Tom, and they hadn't all my constitution. 
 They got rheumatic about the legs and arms, and 
 went into kitchens and other hospitals; and one of 
 'em, with long service and hard usage, positively 
 lost his senses: he got so crazy that he was obliged 
 to be burnt. Shocking thing that, Tom." 
 
 "Dreadful!" said Tom Smart. 
 
 The old fellow paused for a few minutes, appar- 
 ently struggling with his feelings of emotion, and 
 then said: 
 
 "However, Tom, I am wandering from the point. 
 This tall man, Tom, is a rascally adventurer. The 
 moment he married the widow, he would sell off all 
 the furniture, and run away. What would be the 
 consequence? She would be deserted and reduced 
 to ruin, and I should catch my death of cold in some 
 broker's shop." 
 
 "Yes, but " 
 
 "Don't interrupt me," said the old gentleman. 
 "Of you, Tom, I entertain a very different opinion; 
 for I well know that if you once settled yourself in a 
 public house, you would never leave it as long as 
 
THE BAGMAN'S STORY 51 
 
 there was anything to drink within its walls. \ 
 
 "I am very much obliged to you for your good 
 opinion, sir," said Tom Smart. 
 
 "Therefore," resumed the old gentleman in a 
 dictatorial tone; "you shall have her, and he shall 
 not." 
 
 "What is to prevent it?" said Tom Smart, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "This disclosure," replied the old gentleman; 
 "he is already married." 
 
 "How can I prove it?" said Tom, starting half 
 out of bed. 
 
 The old gentleman untucked his arm from his 
 side, and having pointed to one of the oaken presses, 
 immediately replaced it in its old position. 
 
 "He little thinks," said the old gentleman, "that 
 in the right hand pocket of a pair of trousers in that 
 press, he has left a letter, entreating him to return 
 to his disconsolate wife, with six mark me, Tom 
 six babes, and all of them small ones." 
 
 As the old gentleman solemnly uttered these 
 words, his features grew less and less distinct, and 
 his figure more shadowy. A film came over Tom 
 Smart's eyes. The old man seemed gradually 
 blending into the chair, the damask waistcoat to 
 resolve into a cushion, the red slippers to shrink 
 into little red cloth bags. The light faded gently 
 
52 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 away, and Tom Smart fell back on his pillow, and 
 dropped asleep. 
 
 Morning aroused Tom from the lethargic slumber, 
 into which he had fallen on the disappearance of the 
 old man. He sat up in bed, and for some minutes 
 vainly endeavored to recall the events of the pre- 
 ceding night. Suddenly they rushed upon him. He 
 looked at the chair; it was a fantastic and grim- 
 looking piece of furniture, certainly, but it must have 
 been a remarkably ingenious and lively imagination, 
 that could have discovered any resemblance between 
 it and an old man. 
 
 "How are you, old boy?" said Tom. He was 
 bolder in the daylight most men are. 
 
 The chair remained motionless, and spoke not a 
 word. 
 
 "Miserable morning," said Tom. No.' The 
 chair would not be drawn into conversation. 
 
 "Which press did you point to? you can tell me 
 that," said Tom. Devil a word, gentlemen, the 
 chair would say. 
 
 "It's not much trouble to open it, anyhow," 
 said Tom, getting out of bed very deliberately. He 
 walked up to one of the presses. The key was in 
 the lock; he turned it, and opened the door. There 
 was a pair of trousers there. He put his hand into 
 the pocket, and drew forth the identical letter the old 
 gentleman had described! 
 
THE BAGMAN'S STORY 
 
 53 
 
 " Queer sort of thing, this," said Tom Smart; 
 looking first at the crjair and then at the press, and 
 then at the letter and then at the chair again. 
 "Very queer," said Tom. But, as there was nothing 
 in either to lessen the queerness, he thought he 
 might as well dress himself, and settle the tall man's 
 business at once just to put him out of his 
 misery. 
 
 Tom surveyed the rooms he passed through, on 
 his way downstairs, with the scrutinizing eye of a 
 landlord; thinking it not impossible, that before 
 long, they and their contents would be his property. 
 The tall man was standing in the snug little bar, 
 with his hands behind him, quite at home. He 
 grinned vacantly at Tom. A casual observer might 
 have supposed he did it, only to show his white 
 teeth; but Tom Smart thought that a consciousness 
 of triumph was passing through the place where the 
 tall man's mind would have been, if he had had any. 
 Tom laughed in his face; and summoned the land- 
 lady. 
 
 " Good . morning, ma'am," said Tom Smart, 
 closing the door of the little parlor as the widow 
 entered. 
 
 "Good morning, sir," said the widow. "What 
 will you take for breakfast, sir?" 
 
 Tom was thinking how he should open the case, so 
 he made no answer. 
 
54 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "There's a very nice ham," said the widow, "and 
 a beautiful cold larded fowl. - Shall I send 'em in, 
 sir?" 
 
 These words roused Tom from his reflections. 
 His admiration of the widow increased as she spoke. 
 Thoughtful creature! Comfortable provider! 
 
 "Who is that gentleman in the bar, ma'am?" 
 inquired Tom. 
 
 "His name is Jinkins, sir," said the widow, 
 slightly blushing. 
 
 "He's a tall man," said Tom. 
 
 "He is a very- fine man, sir," replied the widow, 
 "and a very nice gentleman." 
 
 "Ah!" said Tom. 
 
 "Is there anything more you want, sir?" inquired 
 the widow, rather puzzled by Tom's manner. 
 
 "Why, yes," said Tom. "My dear ma'am, will 
 you have the kindness to sit down for one moment?" 
 
 The widow looked much amazed, but she sat 
 down, and Tom sat down too, close beside her. I 
 don't know how it happened, gentlemen indeed 
 my uncle used to tell me that Tom Smart said he 
 didn't know how it happened either but somehow 
 or other the palm of Tom's hand fell upon the back 
 of the widow's hand, and remained there while he 
 spoke. 
 
 "My dear ma'am," said Tom Smart he had 
 always a great notion of committing the amiable 
 
THE BAGMAN'S STORY 55 
 
 "My dear ma'am, you deserve a very excellent 
 husband; you do indeed." 
 
 "Lor, sir!" said the widow as well she might: 
 Tom's mode of commencing the conversation being 
 rather unusual, not to say startling; the fact of his 
 never having set eyes upon her before the previous 
 night, being taken into consideration. "Lor, sir!" 
 
 "I scorn to flatter, my dear ma'am," said Tom 
 Smart. "You deserve a very admirable husband, 
 and whoever he is, he'll be a very lucky man." As 
 Tom said this his eye involuntarily wandered from 
 the widow's face, to the comforts around him. 
 
 The widow looked more puzzled than ever, and 
 made an effort to rise. Tom gently pressed her 
 hand, as if to detain her, and she kept her seat. 
 Widows, gentlemen, are not usually timorous, as 
 my uncle used to say. 
 
 "I am sure I am very much obliged to you, sir, 
 for your good opinion," said the buxom landlady, 
 half-laughing; "and if ever I marry again " 
 
 "//," said Tom Smart, looking very shrewdly 
 out of the right-hand corner of his left eye. "If " 
 
 "Well," said the widow, laughing outright this 
 time. "When I do, I hope I shall have as good a 
 husband as you describe." 
 
 " Jinkins to wit," said Tom. 
 
 "Lor, sir!" exclaimed the widow. 
 
 "Oh, don't tell me," said Tom, "I know him," 
 
56 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "I am sure nobody who knows him, knows any- 
 thing bad of him," said the widow, bridling up at 
 the mysterious air with which Tom had spoken. 
 
 "Hem!" said Tom Smart. 
 
 The widow began to think it was high time to cry, 
 so she took out her handkerchief, and inquired 
 whether Tom wished to insult her; whether he 
 thought it like a gentleman to take away the char- 
 acter of another gentleman behind his back: why, 
 if he had got anything to say, he didn't say it to 
 the man, like a man, instead of terrifying a poor 
 weak woman in that way; and so forth. 
 
 "I'll say it to him fast enough," said Tom, "only 
 I want you to hear it first." 
 
 "What is it?" inquired the widow, looking 
 intently in Tom's countenance. 
 
 "I'll astonish you," said Tom, putting his hand 
 in his pocket. 
 
 "If it is, that he wants money," said the widow, 
 "I know that already, and you needn't trouble 
 yourself." 
 
 "Pooh, nonsense, that's nothing,'" said Tom 
 Smart. "I want money. 'Tan't that." 
 
 "Oh, dear, what can it be?" exclaimed the poor 
 widow. 
 
 "Don't be frightened," said Tom Smart. He 
 slowly drew forth the letter, and unfolded it. "You 
 won't scream?" said Tom, doubtfully. 
 
THE BAGMAN'S STORY 57 
 
 "No, no," replied the widow; ''let me see it." 
 
 "You won't go fainting away, or any of that 
 nonsense?" said Tom. 
 
 "No, no," returned the widow, hastily. 
 
 "And don't run out, and blow him up," said 
 Tom, "because I'll do all that for you; you had 
 better not exert yourself." 
 
 "Well, well," said the widow, "let me see it." 
 
 "I will," replied Tom Smart; and, with these 
 words, he placed the letter in the widow's hand. 
 
 Gentlemen, I have heard my uncle say, that Tom 
 Smart said, the widow's lamentations when she 
 heard the disclosure would have pierced a heart of 
 stone. Tom was certainly very tender-hearted, but 
 they pierced his to the very core. The widow 
 rocked herself to and fro, and wrung her hands. 
 
 "Oh, the deception and villany of man!" said the 
 widow. 
 
 "Frightful, my dear ma'am; but compose your- 
 self," said Tom Smart. 
 
 "Oh, I can't compose myself," shrieked the 
 widow. "I shall never find any one else I can love 
 so much!" 
 
 "Oh yes you will, my dear soul," said Tom Smart, 
 letting fall a shower of the largest sized tears, in 
 pity for the widow's misfortunes. Tom Smart, in 
 the energy of his compassion, had put his arm 
 round the widow's waist; and the widow, in a 
 
58 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 passion of grief, had clasped Tom's hand. She 
 looked up in Tom's face, and smiled through her 
 tears. Tom looked down in hers, and smiled 
 through his. 
 
 I never could find out, gentlemen, whether Tom 
 did or did not kiss the widow at that particular 
 moment. He used to tell my uncle he didn't, but 
 I have my doubts about it. Between ourselves, 
 gentlemen, I rather think he did. 
 
 At all events, Tom kicked the very tall man out 
 at the front door half an hour after, and married the 
 widow a month after. And he used to drive about 
 the country, with the clay-colored gig with red 
 wheels, and the vixenish mare with the fast pace, 
 till he gave up business many years afterwards, and 
 went to France with his wife; and then the old 
 house was pulled down. 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE 
 BY JAMES HOGG 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE 
 
 A GREAT number of people now-a-days are begin- 
 ning broadly to insinuate that there are no such things 
 as ghosts, or spiritual beings visible to mortal sight. 
 Even Sir Walter Scott is turned renegade, and, with 
 his stories made up of half-and-half, like Nathaniel 
 Gow's toddy, is trying to throw cold water on the 
 most certain, though most impalpable, phenomena 
 of human nature. The bodies are daft. Heaven 
 mend their wits ! Before they had ventured to assert 
 such things, I wish they had been where I have often 
 been; or, in particular, where the Laird of Birken- 
 delly was on St. Lawrence's Eve, in the year 1777, 
 and sundry times subsequent to that. 
 
 Be it known, then, to every reader of this relation 
 of facts that happened in my own remembrance, 
 that the road from Birkendelly to the great muckle 
 village of Balmawhapple, (commonly called the 
 muckle town, in opposition to the little town that 
 stood on the other side of the burn,) -that road, I 
 say, lay between two thorn hedges, so well kept by 
 the Laird's hedger, so close, and so high, that a 
 rabbit could not have escaped from the highway into 
 any of the adjoining fields. Along this road was the 
 Laird riding on the Eve of St. Lawrence, in a careless, 
 61 
 
62 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 indifferent manner, with his hat to one side, and 
 his cane dancing a hornpipe on the crutch of the 
 saddle before him. He was, moreover, chanting a 
 song to himself, and I have heard people tell what 
 song it was too. There was once a certain, or rather 
 uncertain, bard, ycleped Robert Burns, who made 
 a number of good songs; but this that the Laird 
 sung was an amorous song of great antiquity, which, 
 like all the said bard's best songs, was sung one hun- 
 dred and fifty years before he was born. It began 
 thus: 
 
 "I am the Laird of Windy- wa's, 
 
 I cam nae here without a cause, 
 
 An' I hae gotten forty fa's 
 
 In coming o'er the knowe, joe. 
 
 The night it is baith wind and weet ; 
 
 The morn it will be snaw and sleet; 
 
 My shoon are frozen to my feet; 
 O, rise an' let me in, joe! 
 
 Let me in this ae night," &c., &c. 
 
 This song was the Laird singing, while, at the 
 same time, he was smudging and laughing at the 
 catastrophe, when, ere ever aware, he beheld, a 
 short way before him, an uncommonly elegant and 
 beautiful girl walking in the same direction with 
 him. "Aye," said the Laird to himself, "here is 
 something very attractive indeed! Where the 
 deuce can she have sprung from? She must have 
 risen out of the earth, for I never saw her till this 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE 63 
 
 breath. Well, I declare I have not seen such a 
 female figure I wish I had such an assignation 
 with her as the Laird of Windy-wa's had with his 
 sweetheart." 
 
 As the Laird was half-thinking, half-speaking 
 this to himself, the enchanting creature looked back 
 at him with a motion of intelligence that she knew 
 what he was half-saying, half-thinking, and then 
 vanished over the summit of the rising ground 
 before him, called the Birky Brow. "Aye, go your 
 ways!" said the Laird; "I see by you, you'll not be 
 very hard to overtake. You cannot get off the road, 
 and I'll have a chat with you before you make the 
 Deer's Den." 
 
 The Laird jogged on. He did not sing the " Laird 
 of Windy-wa's" any more, for he felt a sort of 
 stifling about his heart; but he often repeated to 
 himself, "She's a very fine woman! a very fine 
 woman indeed and to be walking here by herself! 
 I cannot comprehend it." 
 
 When he reached the summit of the Birky Brow 
 he did not see her, although he had a longer view of 
 the road than before. He thought this very singular, 
 and began to suspect that she wanted to escape him, 
 although apparently rather lingering on him before. 
 " I shall have another look at her, however," thought 
 the Laird; and off he set at a flying trot. No. He 
 came first to one turn, then another. There was 
 
64 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 nothing of the young lady to be seen. " Unless she 
 take wings and fly away, I shall be up with her," 
 quoth the Laird; and off he set at the full gallop. 
 
 In the middle of his career he met with Mr. 
 M'Murdie of Aulton, who hailed him with, "Hilloa! 
 Birkendelly! where the deuce are you flying at that 
 rate?" 
 
 "I was riding after a woman," said the Laird, 
 with great simplicity, reining in his steed. 
 
 "Then I am sure no woman on earth can long 
 escape you, unless she be in an air balloon." 
 
 "I don't know that. Is she far gone?" 
 
 "In which way do you mean?" 
 
 '"In this." 
 
 "Aha-ha-ha! Hee-hee-hee!" nichered M'Murdie, 
 misconstruing the Laird's meaning. 
 
 "What do you laugh at, my dear sir? Do you 
 know her, then?" 
 
 "Ho-ho-ho! Hee-hee-hee! How should I, or 
 how can I, know her, Birkendelly, unless you 
 inform me who she is?" 
 
 "Why, that is the very thing I want to know of 
 you. I mean the young lady whom you met just 
 now." 
 
 "You are raving, Birkendelly. I met no young 
 lady, nor is there a single person on the road I have 
 come by, while you know, that for a mile and a half 
 forward your way, she could not get out of it." 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE 65 
 
 "I know that," said the Laird, biting his lip, and 
 looking greatly puzzled; "but confound me if I 
 understand this; for I was within speech of her just 
 now on the top of the Birky Brow there; and, when 
 I think of it, she could not have been even thus far 
 as yet. She had on a pure white gauze frock, a 
 small green bonnet and feathers, and a green veil, 
 which, flung back over her left shoulder, hung 
 below her waist; and was altogether such an engag- 
 ing figure, that no man could have passed her on 
 the road without taking some note of her. Are 
 you not making game of me? Did you not really 
 meet with her?" 
 
 "On my word of truth and honor, I did not. 
 Come, ride back with me, and we shall meet her 
 still, depend on it. She has given you the go-by on 
 the road. Let us go; I am only going to call at the 
 mill about some barley for the distillery, and will 
 return with you to the big town." 
 
 Birkendelly returned with his friend. The sun 
 was not yet set, yet M'Murdie could not help ob- 
 serving that the Laird looked thoughtful and con- 
 fused, and not a word could he speak about any- 
 thing save his lovely apparition with the white 
 frock and the green veil; and lo, when they reached 
 the top of the Birky Brow, there was the maiden 
 again before them, and exactly at the same spot 
 
66 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 where the Laird first saw her before, only walking in 
 the contrary direction. 
 
 "Well, this is the most extraordinary thing that 
 I ever knew!" exclaimed the Laird. 
 
 "What is it, sir?" said M'Murdie. 
 
 "How that young lady could have eluded me," 
 returned the Laird; "see, here she is still." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir, I don't see her. Where 
 is she?" 
 
 "There, on the other side of the angle; but you 
 are short-sighted. See, there she is ascending the 
 other eminence in her white frock and green veil, as 
 I told you. What a lovely creature!" 
 
 "Well, well, we have her fairly before us now, 
 and shall see what she is like at all events," said 
 M'Murdie. 
 
 Between the Birky Brow and this other slight 
 eminence, there is an obtuse angle of the road at the 
 part where it is lowest, and, in passing this, the two 
 friends necessarily lost sight of the object of their 
 curiosity. They pushed on at a quick pace 
 cleared the low angle the maiden was not there ! 
 They rode full speed to the top of the eminence, 
 from whence a long extent of road was visible before 
 them there was no human creature in view; 
 M'Murdie laughed aloud; but the Laird turned 
 pale as death, and bit his lip. His friend asked at 
 him good-humoredly, why he was so much affected. 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE 67 
 
 He said, because he could not comprehend the 
 meaning of this singular apparition or illusion; and 
 it troubled him the more, as he now remembered a 
 dream of the same nature which he had had, and 
 which terminated in a dreadful manner. 
 
 "Why, man, you are dreaming still," said 
 M'Murdie; "but never mind. It is quite common 
 for men of your complexion to dream of beautiful 
 maidens, with white frocks and green veils, bonnets, 
 feathers, and slender waists. It is a lovely image, 
 the creation of your own sanguine imagination, and 
 you may worship it without any blame. Were her 
 shoes black or green? And her stockings, did you 
 note them? The symmetry of the limbs, I am sure 
 you did! Good-bye; I see you are not disposed to 
 leave the spot. Perhaps she will appear to you 
 again." 
 
 So saying, M'Murdie rode on towards the mill, 
 and Birkendelly, after musing for some time, turned 
 his beast's head slowly round, and began to move 
 towards the great muckle village. 
 
 The Laird's feelings were now in terrible commo- 
 tion. He was taken beyond measure with the 
 beauty and elegance of the figure he had seen; but 
 he remembered, with a mixture of admiration and 
 horror, that a dream of the same enchanting object 
 had haunted his slumbers all the days of his life; 
 yet, how singular that he should never have recol- 
 
68 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 lected the circumstance till now! But farther, with 
 the dream there were connected some painful cir- 
 cumstances, which, though terrible in their issue, 
 he could not recollect so as to form them into any 
 degree of arrangement. 
 
 As he was considering deeply of these things, and 
 riding slowly down the declivity, neither dancing 
 his cane, nor singing the " Laird of Windy- wa's," 
 he lifted up his eyes, and there was the girl on the 
 same spot where he saw her first, walking delib- 
 erately up the Birky Brow. The sun was down; 
 but it was the month of August, and a fine evening, 
 and the Laird, seized with an unconquerable desire 
 to see and speak with that incomparable creature, 
 could restrain himself no longer, but shouted out to 
 her to stop till he came up. She beckoned acqui- 
 escence, and slackened her pace into a slow move- 
 ment. The Laird turned the corner quickly, but 
 when he rounded it, the maiden was still there, 
 though on the summit of the Brow. She turned 
 round, and, with an ineffable smile and curtsy, 
 saluted him, and again moved slowly on. She 
 vanished gradually beyond the summit, and while 
 the green feathers were still nodding in view and so 
 nigh, that the Laird could have touched them with 
 a fishing-rod, he reached the top of the Brow him- 
 self. There was no living soul there, nor onward, 
 as far as his view reached. He now trembled every 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE 69 
 
 limb, and, without knowing what he did, rode 
 straight on to the big town, not daring well to return 
 and see what he had seen for three several times; 
 and, certain he would see it again when the shades 
 of evening were deepening, he deemed it proper and 
 prudent to decline the pursuit of such a phantom 
 any farther. 
 
 He alighted at the Queen's Head, called for some 
 brandy and water, quite forgot what was his errand 
 to the great muckle town that afternoon, there 
 being nothing visible to his mental sight but lovely 
 fairy images, with white gauze frocks and green 
 veils. His friend, Mr. M'Murdie, joined him; they 
 drank deep, bantered, reasoned, got angry, reasoned 
 themselves calm again, and still all would not do. 
 The Laird was conscious that he had seen the 
 beautiful apparition, and, moreover, that she was 
 the very maiden, or the resemblance of her, who, in 
 the irrevocable decrees of Providence, was destined 
 to be his. It was in vain that M'Murdie reasoned 
 of impressions on the imagination, and 
 
 "Of fancy moulding in the mind, 
 Light visions on the passing wind." 
 
 Vain also was a story that he told him of a relation 
 of his own, who was greatly harassed by the appari- 
 tion of an officer in a red uniform, that haunted him 
 day and night, and had very nigh put him quite 
 
70 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 distracted several times; till at length his physician 
 found out the nature of this illusion so well, that he 
 knew, from the state of his pulse, to an hour when 
 the ghost of the officer would appear; and by bleed- 
 ing, low diet, and emollients, contrived to keep the 
 apparition away altogether. 
 
 The Laird admitted the singularity of this incident 
 but not that it was one in point; for the one, he 
 said, was imaginary, and the other real; and that no 
 conclusions could convince him in opposition to the 
 authority of his own senses. He accepted of an 
 invitation to spend a few days with M'Murdie and 
 his family; but they all acknowledged afterwards 
 that the Laird was very much like one bewitched. 
 
 As soon as he reached home, he went straight to 
 the Birky Brow, certain of seeing once more the 
 angelic phantom; but she was not there. He took 
 each of his former positions again and again, but 
 the desired vision would in no wise make its appear- 
 ance. He tried every day, and every hour of the 
 day, all with the same effect, till he grew absolutely 
 desperate, and had the audacity to kneel on the 
 spot, and entreat on Heaven to see her. Yes, he 
 called on Heaven to see her once more, whatever she 
 was, whether a being of earth, heaven or hell! 
 
 He was now in such a state of excitement that he 
 could not exist; he grew listless, impatient, and 
 sickly; took to his bed, and sent for M'Murdie and 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE 71 
 
 the doctor; and the issue of the consultation was, 
 that Birkendelly consented to leave the country for 
 a season, on a visit to his only sister in Ireland, 
 whither we must accompany him for a short space. 
 His sister was married to Captain Bryan, younger 
 of Scoresby, and they two lived in a cottage on the 
 estate, and the Captain's parents and sisters at 
 Scoresby Hall. Great was the stir and preparation 
 when the gallant young Laird of Birkendelly 
 arrived at the cottage, it never being doubted that 
 he came to forward a second bond of connection 
 with the family, which still contained seven dashing 
 sisters, all unmarried, and all alike willing to change 
 that solitary and helpless state for the envied one 
 of matrimony a state highly popular among the 
 young women of Ireland. Some of the Misses Bryan 
 had now reached the years of womanhood, several 
 of them scarcely; but these small disqualifications 
 made no difference in the estimation of the young 
 ladies themselves; each and all of them brushed up 
 for the competition, with high hopes and unflinching 
 resolutions. True, the elder ones tried to check the 
 younger in their good-natured, forthright, Irish 
 way; but they retorted, and persisted in their 
 superior pretensions. Then there was such shopping 
 in the country-town ! It was so boundless, that the 
 credit of the Hall was finally exhausted, and the old 
 squire was driven to remark, that "Och and to be 
 
7 2 
 
 BEST ENGLISH TALES' 
 
 sure it was a dreadful and tirrabell concussion, to be 
 put upon the equipment of seven daughters all at 
 the same moment, as if the young gentleman could 
 marry them all! Och, then, poor dear shoul, he 
 would be after finding that one was sufficient, if 
 not one too many. And therefore, there was no 
 occasion, none at all, at all, and that there was not, 
 for any of them to rig out more than one." 
 
 It was hinted that the Laird had some reason for 
 complaint at this time; but as the lady sided with 
 her daughters, he had no chance. One of the items 
 of his account was, thirty-seven buckling-combs, 
 then greatly in vogue. There were black combs, 
 pale combs, yellow combs, and gilt ones, all to suit 
 or set off various complexions; and if other articles 
 bore any proportion at all to these, it had been better 
 for the Laird and all his family that Birkendelly had 
 never set foot in Ireland. 
 
 The plan was all concocted. There was to be a 
 grand dinner at the Hall, at which the damsels were 
 to appear in all their finery. A ball was to follow, 
 and note be taken which of the young ladies was 
 their guest's choice, and measures taken accordingly. 
 The dinner and the ball took place; and what a 
 pity I may not describe that entertainment, the 
 dresses, and the dancers, for they were all exquisite 
 in their way, and outre beyond measure. But such 
 details only serve to derange a winter evening's 
 tale such as this. 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE 73 
 
 Birkendelly having at this time but one model for 
 his choice among womankind, all that ever he did 
 while in the presence of ladies, was to look out for 
 some resemblance to her, the angel of his fancy; and 
 it so happened, that in one of old Bryan's daughters 
 named Luna, or more familiarly, Loony, he per- 
 ceived, or thought he perceived, some imaginary 
 similarity in form and air to the lovely apparition. 
 This was the sole reason why he was incapable of 
 taking his eyes off from her the whole of that night; 
 and this incident settled the point, not only with 
 the old people, but even the young ladies were forced 
 after every exertion on their own parts, to "yild 
 the pint to their sister Loony, who certainly was nit 
 the mist genteelest nor mist handsomest of that 
 guid-lucking fimily." 
 
 The next day Lady Luna was dispatched off to 
 the cottage in grand style, there to live hand and 
 glove with her supposed lover. There was no 
 standing all this. There were the two parrocked 
 together, like a ewe and a lamb, early and late; 
 and though the Laird really appeared to have, and 
 probably had, some delight in her company, it was 
 only in contemplating that certain indefinable air 
 of resemblance which she bore to the sole image 
 impressed on his heart. He bought her a white 
 gauze frock, a green bonnet and feathers, with a 
 veil, which she was obliged to wear thrown over her 
 
74 
 
 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 left shoulder; and every day after, six times a-day, 
 was she obliged to walk over a certain eminence at 
 a certain distance before her lover. She was de- 
 lighted to oblige him; but still when he came up, he 
 looked disappointed, and never said, "Luna, I love 
 you; when are we to be married?" No, he never 
 said any such thing, for all her looks and expressions 
 of fondest love; for, alas, in all this dalliance, he 
 was only feeding a mysterious flame, that preyed 
 upon his vitals, and proved too severe for the 
 powers either of reason or religion to extinguish. 
 Still, time flew lighter and lighter by, his health was 
 restored, the bloom of his cheek returned, and the 
 frank and simple confidence of Luna had a certain 
 charm with it, that reconciled him to his sister's 
 Irish economy. But a strange incident now hap- 
 pened to him which deranged all his immediate 
 plans. ' 
 
 He was returning from angling one evening, a 
 little before sunset, when he saw Lady Luna await- 
 ing him on his way home. But instead of brushing 
 up to meet him as usual, she turned, and walked up 
 the rising ground before him. "Poor sweet girl! 
 how condescending she is," said he to himself, "and 
 how like she is in reality to the angelic being whose 
 form and features are so deeply impressed on my 
 heart! I now see it is no fond or fancied resemblance. 
 It is real ! real ! real ! How I long to clasp her in my 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE 75 
 
 arms, and tell her how I love her; for, after all that 
 is the girl that is to be mine, and the former a vision 
 to impress this the more on my heart." 
 
 He posted up the ascent to overtake her. When 
 at the top she turned, smiled, and curtsied. Good 
 heavens! it was the identical lady of his fondest 
 adoration herself, but lovelier, far lovelier than ever. 
 He expected every moment that she would vanish 
 as was her wont; but she did not she awaited 
 him, and received his embraces with open arms. 
 She was a being of real flesh and blood, courteous, 
 elegant, and affectionate. He kissed her hand, he 
 kissed her glowing cheek, and blessed all the powers 
 of love who had thus restored her to him again, 
 after undergoing pangs of love such as man never 
 suffered. 
 
 "But, dearest heart, here we are standing in the 
 middle of the highway," said he; "suffer me to 
 conduct you to my sister's house, where you shall 
 have an apartment with a child of nature having 
 some slight resemblance to yourself." She smiled, 
 and said, "No, I will not sleep with Lady Luna to- 
 night. Will you please to look round you, and see 
 where you are?" He did so, and behold they were 
 standing on the Birky Brow, on the only spot where 
 he had ever seen her. She smiled at his embar- 
 rassed look, and asked if he did not remember aught 
 of his coming over from Ireland. He said he thought 
 
76 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 he did remember something of it, but love with him 
 had long absorbed every other sense. He then 
 asked her to his own house, which she declined, 
 saying she could only meet him on that spot till 
 after their marriage, which could not be before St. 
 Lawrence's Eve come three years. "And now," 
 said she, "we must part. My name is Jane Ogilvie, 
 and you were betrothed to me before you were 
 born. But I am come to release you this evening, 
 if you have the slightest objection." 
 
 He declared he had none; and, kneeling, swore 
 the most solemn oath to be hers forever, and to 
 meet her there on St. Lawrence's Eve next, and 
 every St. Lawrence's Eve until that blessed day on 
 which she had consented to make him happy, by 
 becoming his own forever. She then asked him 
 affectionately to exchange rings with her, in pledge 
 of their faith and truth, in which he joyfully acqui- 
 esced; for she could not have then asked any con- 
 ditions which, in the fulness of his heart's love, he 
 would not have granted; and after one fond and 
 affectionate kiss, and repeating all their engage- 
 ments over again, they parted. 
 
 Birkendelly's heart was now melted within him, 
 and all his senses overpowered by one overwhelming 
 passion. On leaving his fair and kind one, he got 
 bewildered, and could not find the road to his own 
 house, believing sometimes that he was going 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE 77 
 
 there, and sometimes to his sister's, till at length he 
 came, as he thought, upon the LifFey, at its junction 
 with Loch Allan; and there, in attempting to call 
 for a boat, he awoke from a profound sleep, and 
 found himself lying in his bed within his sister's 
 house, and the day sky just breaking. 
 
 If he was puzzled to account for some things in 
 the course of his dream, he was much more puzzled 
 to account for them now that he was wide awake. 
 He was sensible that he had met his love, and 
 embraced, kissed, and exchanged vows and rings 
 with her, and, in token of the truth and reality of all 
 these, her emerald ring was on his finger, and his 
 own away; so there was no doubt that they had 
 met, by what means it was beyond the power of 
 man to calculate. 
 
 There was then living with Mrs. Bryan an old 
 Scotswoman, commonly styled Lucky Black. She 
 had nursed Birkendelly's mother, and been dry 
 nurse to himself and sister; and having more than a 
 mother's attachment for the latter, when she was 
 married, old Lucky left her country, to spend the 
 last of her days in the house of her beloved young 
 lady. When the Laird entered the breakfast 
 parlor that morning, she was sitting in her black 
 velvet hood, as usual, reading "The Fourfold State 
 of Man," and being paralytic and somewhat deaf, 
 she seldom regarded those who went out or came in. 
 
78 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 But chancing to hear him say something about the 
 ninth of August, she quitted reading, turned round 
 her head to listen, and then asked, in a hoarse 
 tremulous voice, "What's that he's saying? What's 
 the unlucky callant saying about the ninth of 
 August? Aih? To be sure it is St. Lawrence's Eve, 
 although the tenth be his day. It's ower true, ower 
 true! ower true for him an' a' his kin, poor man! 
 Aih! What was he saying then?" 
 
 The men smiled at her incoherent earnestness, 
 but the lady, with true feminine condescension, 
 informed her, in a loud voice, that Allan had an 
 engagement in Scotland on St. Lawrence's Eve. 
 She then started up, extended her shrivelled hands, 
 that shook like the aspen, and panted out, "Am, 
 aih? Lord preserve us! whaten an engagement has 
 he on St. Lawrence Eve? Bind him! bind him! 
 shackle him wi' bands of steel, and of brass, and of 
 iron ! O, may He whose blessed will was pleased to 
 leave him an orphan sae soon, preserve him from the 
 fate which I tremble to think on!" 
 
 She then tottered round the table, as with super- 
 natural energy, and seizing the Laird's right hand, 
 she drew it close to her unstable eyes, and then per- 
 ceiving the emerald ring chased in blood, she threw 
 up her arms with a jerk, opened her skinny jaws with 
 a fearful gape, and uttering a shriek, that made all 
 the house yell, and every one within it to tremble, 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE 79 
 
 she fell back lifeless and rigid on the floor. The 
 gentlemen both fled, out of sheer terror; but a 
 woman never deserts her friends in extremity. The 
 lady called her maids about her, had her old nurse 
 conveyed to bed, where every means were used to 
 restore animation. But, alas! life was extinct! 
 The vital spark had fled forever, which filled all 
 their hearts with grief, disappointment, and horror, 
 as some dreadful tale of mystery was now sealed up 
 from their knowledge, which in all likelihood no 
 other could reveal. But to say the truth, the Laird 
 did not seem greatly disposed to probe it to the 
 bottom. 
 
 Not all the arguments of Captain Bryan and his 
 lady, nor the simple entreaties of Lady Luna, could 
 induce Birkendelly to put off his engagement to 
 meet his love on the Birky Brow on the evening of 
 the gth of August; but he promised soon to return, 
 pretending that some business of the utmost impor- 
 tance called him away. Before he went, however, he 
 asked his sister if ever she had heard of such a lady 
 in Scotland as Jane Ogilvie. Mrs. Bryan repeated 
 the name many times to herself, and said, that name 
 undoubtedly was once familiar to her, although she 
 thought not for good, but at that moment she did 
 not recollect one single individual of the name. 
 He then showed her the emerald ring that had been 
 the death of old Lucky Black; but the moment the 
 
80 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 lady looked at it, she made a grasp at it to take it off 
 by force, which she had very nearly effected. "O, 
 burn it, burn it!" cried she; "it is not a right ring! 
 Burn it!" 
 
 "My dear sister, what fault is in the ring?" said 
 he. "It is a very pretty ring, and one that I set 
 great value by." 
 
 "O, for Heaven's sake, burn it, and renounce the 
 giver!" cried she. "If you have any regard for your 
 peace here, or your soul's welfare hereafter, burn 
 that ring! If you saw with your own eyes, you 
 would easily perceive that that is not a ring befitting 
 a Christian to wear." 
 
 This speech confounded Birkendelly a good deal. 
 He retired by himself and examined the ring, and 
 could see nothing in it unbecoming a Christian to 
 wear. It was a chased gold ring, with a bright 
 emerald, which last had a red foil, in some lights 
 giving it a purple gleam, and inside was engraven 
 "Elegit" much defaced, but that his sister could 
 not see; therefore he could not comprehend her 
 vehement injunctions concerning it. But that it 
 might no more give her offence, or any other, he 
 sewed it within his vest, opposite his heart, judging 
 that there was something in it which his eyes were 
 withholden from discerning. 
 
 Thus he left Ireland with his mind in great con- 
 fusion, groping his way, as it were, in a hole of 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE 8l 
 
 mystery, yet with the passion that preyed on his 
 heart and vitals more intense than ever. He seems 
 to have had an impression all his life that some 
 mysterious fate awaited him, which the correspond- 
 ence of his dreams and day visions tended to con- 
 firm. And though he gave himself wholly up to the 
 sway of one overpowering passion, it was not with- 
 out some yearnings of soul, manifestations of terror, 
 and so much earthly shame, that he never more 
 mentioned his love, or his engagements, to any 
 human being, not even to his friend M'Murdie, 
 whose company he forthwith shunned. 
 
 It is on this account that I am unable to relate 
 what passed between the lovers thenceforward. It 
 is certain they met at the Birky Brow that St. 
 Lawrence's Eve, for they were seen in company to- 
 gether; but of the engagements, vows, or dalliance, 
 that passed between them, I can say nothing; nor 
 of all their future meetings, until the beginning of 
 August 1781, when the Laird began decidedly to 
 make preparations for his approaching marriage; 
 yet not as if he and his betrothed had been to reside 
 at Birkendelly, all his provisions rather bespeaking 
 a meditated journey. 
 
 On the morning of the pth, he wrote to his sister, 
 and then arraying himself in his new wedding suit, 
 and putting the emerald ring on his finger, he 
 appeared all impatience, until towards evening, 
 
82 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 when he sallied out on horseback to his appointment. 
 It seems that his mysterious inamorata had met 
 him, for he was seen riding through the big town 
 before sunset, with a young lady behind him, dressed 
 in white and green, and the villagers affirmed that 
 they were riding at the rate of fifty miles an hour! 
 They were seen to pass a cottage called Mosskilt, 
 ten miles farther on, where there was no highway, 
 at the same tremendous speed; and I could never 
 hear that they were any more seen, until the follow- 
 ing morning, when Birkendelly's fine bay horse was 
 found lying dead at his own stable door; and shortly 
 after, his master was likewise discovered lying a 
 blackened corpse on the Birky Brow, at the very 
 spot where the mysterious, but lovely dame, had 
 always appeared to him. There was neither wound, 
 bruise, nor dislocation, in his whole frame; but his 
 skin was of a livid color, and his features terribly 
 distorted. 
 
 This woful catastrophe struck the neighborhood 
 with great consternation, so that nothing else was 
 talked of. Every ancient tradition and modern 
 incident were raked together, compared, and com- 
 bined; and certainly a most rare concatenation of 
 misfortunes was elicited. It was authenticated that 
 his father had died on the same spot that day 
 twenty years, and his grandfather that day forty 
 years, the former, as was supposed, by a fall from 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE 83 
 
 his horse when in liquor, and the latter, nobody 
 knew how; and now this Allan was the last of his 
 race, for Mrs. Bryan had no children. 
 
 It was moreover now remembered by many, and 
 among the rest by the Rev. Joseph Taylor, that he 
 had frequently observed a young lady, in white and 
 green, sauntering about the spot on a St. Lawrence's 
 Eve. 
 
 When Captain Bryan and his lady arrived to take 
 possession of the premises, they instituted a strict 
 inquiry into every circumstance; but nothing 
 farther than what was related to them by Mr. 
 M'Murdie could be learned of this Mysterious 
 Bride, besides what the Laird's own letter bore. It 
 ran thus: 
 
 "DEAREST SISTER, 
 
 "I shall before this time to-morrow, be the most happy, 
 or most miserable, of mankind, having solemnly engaged 
 myself this night to wed a young and beautiful lady 
 named Jane Ogilvie, to whom it seems I was betrothed 
 before I was born. Our correspondence has been of a 
 most private and mysterious nature; but my troth is 
 pledged, and my resolution fixed. We set out on a far 
 journey to the place of her abode on the nuptial eve, so 
 that it will be long before I see you again. 
 "Yours till death, 
 
 "ALLAN GEORGE SANDISON. 
 
 ' Birkendelly, August 8th, 1781." 
 
 That very same year, an old woman, named 
 
84 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Marion Haw, was returned upon that, her native 
 parish, from Glasgow. She had led a migratory life 
 with her son who was what he called a bell- 
 hanger, but in fact a tinker of the worst grade for 
 many years, and was at last returned to the muckle 
 town in a state of great destitution. She gave the 
 parishioners a history of the Mysterious Bride, so 
 plausibly correct, but withal so romantic, that 
 everybody said of it, (as is often said of my narra- 
 tives, with the same narrow-minded prejudice and 
 injustice,) that it was a made story. There were, 
 however, some strong testimonies of its veracity 
 She said the first Allan Sandison, who married 
 the great heiress of Birkendelly, was previously 
 engaged to a beautiful young lady, named Jane 
 Ogilvie, to whom he gave anything but fair play; 
 and, as she believed, either murdered her, or caused 
 her to be murdered, in the midst of a thkket of birch 
 and broom, at a spot which she mentioned; that she 
 had good reasons for believing so, as she had seen 
 the red blood and the new grave, when she was a 
 little girl, and ran home and mentioned it to her 
 grandfather, who charged her as she valued her life 
 never to mention that again, as it was only the 
 nombles and hide of a deer, which he himself had 
 buried there. But when twenty years subsequent to 
 that, the wicked and unhappy Allan Sandison was 
 found dead on that very spot, and lying across the 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDE 85 
 
 green mound, then nearly level with the surface, 
 which she had once seen a new grave, she then for 
 the first time ever thought of a Divine Providence; 
 and she added, "For my grandfather, Neddy Haw, 
 he dee'd too; there's naebody kens how, nor ever 
 shall." 
 
 As they were quite incapable of conceiving, from 
 Marion's description, anything of the spot, Mr. 
 M'Murdie caused her to be taken out to the Birky 
 Brow in a cart, accompanied by Mr. Taylor, and 
 some hundreds of the townsfolks; but whenever she 
 saw it, she said, "Aha, birkies! the haill kintra's 
 altered now. There was nae road here then; it 
 gaed straight ower the tap o' the hill. An' let me 
 see there's the thorn where the cushats biggit; 
 an' there's the auld birk that I aince fell aff an' left 
 my shoe stickin' i' the cleft. I can tell ye, birkies, 
 either the deer's grave, or bonny Jane Ogilvie's, 
 is no twa yards aff the place where that horse's hind 
 feet are standin'; sae ye may howk, an' see if there 
 be ony remains." 
 
 The minister, and M'Murdie, and all the people, 
 stared at one another, for they had purposely caused 
 the horse to stand still on the very spot where both 
 the father and son had been found dead. They 
 digged, and deep, deep below the road, they found 
 part of the slender bones and skull of a young female, 
 which they deposited decently in the churchyard. 
 
86 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 The family of the Sandisons is extinct the Mys- 
 terious Bride appears no more on the Eve of St. 
 Lawrence and the wicked people of the great 
 muckle village have got a lesson on Divine justice 
 written to them in lines of blood. 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY 
 BY WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY 
 
 MORE than twenty years after the events described 
 in the past chapters, I was walking with my Lady 
 Lyndon, in the Rotunda at Ranelagh. It was in 
 the year 1790; the emigration from France had 
 already commenced, the old counts and marquises 
 were thronging to our shores: not starving and 
 miserable, as one saw them a few years afterwards, 
 but unmolested as yet, and bringing with them 
 some token of their national splendor. I was walk- 
 ing with Lady Lyndon, who, proverbially jealous 
 and always anxious to annoy me, spied out a foreign 
 lady who was evidently remarking me, and of 
 course asked who was the hideous fat Dutchwoman 
 who was leering at me so? I knew her n6t in the 
 least. I felt I had seen the lady's face somewhere; 
 (it was now, as my wife said, enormously fat and 
 bloated;) but I did not recognize in the bearer of 
 that face one who had been among the most beau- 
 tiful women in Germany in her day. 
 
 It was no other than Madame de Liliengarten, 
 the mistress, or, as some said, the morganatic wife, 
 
 of the old Duke of X , Duke Victor's father. 
 
 She left X a few months after the elder duke's 
 
 demise, had gone to Paris, as I heard, where some 
 89 
 
90 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 unprincipled adventurer had married her for her 
 money; but, however, had always retained her 
 quasi-royal title, and pretended, amidst the great 
 laughter of the Parisians who frequented her house, 
 to the honors and ceremonial of a sovereign's widow. 
 She had a throne erected in her stateroom, and was 
 styled by her servant and those who wished to pay 
 court to her, or borrow money from her, "Altesse." 
 Report said she drank rather copiously certainly 
 her face bore every mark of that habit, and had lost 
 the rosy, frank, good-humored beauty which had 
 charmed the sovereign who had ennobled her. 
 
 Although she did not address me in the circle at 
 Ranelagh, I was at this period as well known as the 
 Prince of Wales, and she had no difficulty in finding 
 my house in Berkeley Square; whither a note was 
 next morning despatched to me. "An old friend of 
 Monsieur de Balibari," it stated (in extremely bad 
 French), "is anxious to see the Chevalier again and 
 to talk over old happy times. Rosina de Lilien- 
 garten (can it be that Redmond Balibari has for- 
 gotten her?) will be at her house in Leicester Fields 
 all the morning, looking for one who would never 
 have passed her by twenty years ago." 
 
 Rosina of Liliengarten it was, indeed such a 
 full-blown Rosina I have seldom seen. I found her 
 in a decent first-floor in Leicester Fields (the poor 
 soul fell much lower afterwards) drinking tea, 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY 91 
 
 which had somehow a very strong smell of brandy 
 in it; and after salutations, which would be more 
 tedious to recount than they were to perform, and 
 after further straggling conversation, she gave me 
 briefly the following narrative of the events in 
 
 X , which I may well entitle the "Princess's 
 
 Tragedy." 
 
 "You remember Monsieur de Geldern, the Police 
 Minister. He was of Dutch extraction, and, what 
 is more, of a family of Dutch Jews. Although 
 everybody was aware of this blot in his scutcheon, 
 he was mortally angry if ever his origin was sus- 
 pected; and made up for his father's errors by 
 outrageous professions of religion, and the most 
 austere practices of devotion. He visiteo 1 church 
 every morning, confessed once a week, and hated 
 Jews and Protestants as much as an inquisitor 
 could do. He never lost an opportunity of proving 
 his sincerity, by persecuting one or the other when- 
 ever occasion fell in his way. 
 
 "He hated the princess mortally; for her highness 
 in some whim had insulted him with his origin, 
 caused pork to be removed from before him at 
 table, or injured him in some such silly way; and he 
 had a violent animosity to the old Baron de Magny, 
 both in his capacity of Protestant, and because the 
 
C) 2 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 latter in some haughty mood had publicly turned 
 his back upon him as a sharper and a spy. Perpetual 
 quarrels were taking place between them in council; 
 where it was only the presence of his august masters 
 that restrained the baron from publicly and fre- 
 quently expressing the contempt which he felt for 
 the officer of police. 
 
 "Thus Geldern had hatred as one reason for 
 ruining the princess, and it is my belief he had a 
 stronger motive still interest. You remember 
 whom the duke married, after the death of his first 
 
 wife? a princess of the house of F . Geldern 
 
 built his fine palace two years after, and, as I feel 
 convinced, with the money which was paid to him 
 by the F - family for forwarding the match. 
 
 "To go to Prince Victor and report to his highness 
 a case which everybody knew, was not by any means 
 Geldern's desire. He knew the man would be ruined 
 forever in the prince's estimation who carried him 
 intelligence so disastrous. His aim, therefore, was to 
 leave the matter to explain itself to his highness; 
 and, when the time was ripe, he cast about for a 
 means of carrying his point. He had spies in the 
 houses of the elder and younger Magny; but this 
 you know, of course, from your experience of Con- 
 tinental customs. We had spies over each other. 
 Your black (Zamar, I think, was his name) used to 
 give me reports every morning; and I used to enter- 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY 93 
 
 tain the dear old duke with stories of you and your 
 uncle practising picquet and dice in the morning, and 
 with your quarrels and intrigues. We levied similar 
 
 contributions on everybody in X , to amuse the 
 
 dear old man. Monsieur de Magny's valet used to 
 report both to me and Monsieur de Geldern. 
 
 "I knew of the fact of the emerald being in pawn; 
 and it was out of my exchequer that the poor prin- 
 cess drew the funds which were spent upon the 
 odious Lowe, and the still more worthless young 
 chevalier. How the princess could trust the latter 
 as she persisted in doing, is beyond my compre- 
 hension; but there is no infatuation like that of a 
 woman in love: and you will remark, my dear 
 Monsieur de Balibari, that our sex generally fix 
 upon a bad man.'' 
 
 "Not always, madam," I interposed; "your 
 humble servant has created many such attach- 
 ments." 
 
 "I do not see that that affects the truth of the 
 proposition," said the old lady dryly, and con- 
 tinued her narrative. "The Jew who held the 
 emerald had had many dealings with the princess, 
 and at last was offered a bribe of such magnitude 
 that he determined to give up the pledge. He com- 
 mitted the inconceivable imprudence of bringing the 
 emerald with him to X , and waited on Magny, 
 
94 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 who was provided by the princess with the money to 
 redeem the pledge, and was actually ready to pay it. 
 
 "Their interview took place in Magny's own 
 apartments, when his valet overheard every word 
 of their conversation. The young man, who was 
 always utterly careless of money when it was in his 
 possession, was so easy in offering it, that Lowe 
 rose in his demands, and had the conscience to ask 
 double the sum for which he had previously stipu- 
 lated. 
 
 "At this the chevalier lost all patience, fell on the 
 wretch, and was for killing him; when the oppor- 
 tune valet rushed in and saved him. The man had 
 heard every word of the conversation between the 
 disputants, and the Jew ran flying with terror into 
 his arms; and Magny, a quick and passionate, but 
 not a violent man, bade the servant lead the villain 
 downstairs, and thought no more of him. 
 
 "Perhaps he was not sorry to be rid of him, and 
 to have in his possession a large sum of money, four 
 thousand ducats, with which he could tempt 
 fortune once more; as you know he did at your 
 table that night." 
 
 "Your ladyship went halves, madam," said I; 
 "and you know how little I was the better for my 
 winnings." 
 
 "The man conducted the trembling Israelite out 
 of the palace, and no sooner had seen him lodged at 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY 95 
 
 the house of one of his brethren, where he was 
 accustomed to put up, than he went away to the 
 office of his Excellency the Minister of Police, and 
 narrated every word of the conversation which had 
 taken place between the Jew and his master. 
 
 "Geldern expressed the greatest satisfaction at 
 his spy's prudence and fidelity. He gave him a 
 purse of twenty ducats, and promised to provide 
 for him handsomely: as great men do sometimes 
 promise to reward their instruments; but you, 
 Monsieur de Balibari, know how seldom those 
 promises are kept. 'Now, go and find out,' said 
 Monsieur de Geldern, 'at what time the Israelite 
 proposes to return home again, or whether ,he will 
 repent and take the money.' The man went on 
 this errand. Meanwhile, to make matters sure, 
 Geldern arranged a play-party at my house, 
 inviting you thither with your bank, as you may 
 remember; and finding means, at the same time, to 
 let Maxime de Magny know that there was to be 
 faro at Madame de Liliengarten's. It was an 
 invitation the poor fellow never neglected." 
 
 I remembered the facts and listened on, amazed 
 at the artifice of the infernal Minister of Police. 
 
 "The spy came back from his message to Lowe, 
 and stated that he had made inquiries among the 
 servants of the house where the Heidelberg banker 
 lodged, and that it was the latter's intention to 
 
96 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 leave X that afternoon. He travelled by him- 
 self, riding an old horse, exceedingly humbly attired, 
 after the manner of his people. 
 
 '" Johann,' said the Minister, clapping the pleased 
 spy upon the shoulder, 'I am more and more 
 pleased with you. I have been thinking, since you 
 left me, of your intelligence, and the faithful 
 manner in which you have served me; and shall 
 soon find an occasion to place you according to 
 your merits. Which way does this Israelitish 
 scroundrel take?' 
 
 "'He goes to R to-night.' 
 
 " 'And must pass by the Kaiserwald. Are you a 
 man of courage, Johann Kerner?' 
 
 " 'Will your Excellency try me?' said the man, his 
 eyes glittering: 'I served through the Seven Years' 
 War, and was never known to fail there/ 
 
 '"Now, listen. The emerald must be taken from 
 that Jew: in the very keeping it the scoundrel has 
 committed high treason. To the man who brings 
 me that emerald I swear I will give five hundred 
 louis. You understand why it is necessary that it 
 should be restored to her highness. I need say no 
 more.' 
 
 "'You shall have it to-night, sir,' said the man. 
 ' Of course your Excellency will hold me harmless in 
 case of accident.' 
 
 "'Psha!' answered the Minister; 'I will pay you 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY 
 
 97 
 
 half the money beforehand; such is my confidence 
 in you. Accident's impossible, if you take your 
 measures properly. There are four leagues of wood; 
 the Jew rides slowly. It will be night before he can 
 reach, let us say, the old Powder-Mill in the wood. 
 What's to prevent you from putting a rope across 
 the road, and dealing with him there? Be back with 
 me this evening at supper. If you meet any of the 
 patrol, say "Foxes are loose," that's the word for 
 to-night. They will let you pass them without 
 questions.' 
 
 "The man went off quite charmed with his com- 
 mission; and when Magny was losing his money at 
 our faro-table, his servant waylaid the Jew at the 
 spot named the Powder-Mill, in the Kaiserwald. 
 The Jew's horse stumbled over a rope which had 
 been placed across the road; and, as the rider fell 
 groaning to the ground, Johann Kerner rushed out 
 on him, masked, and pistol in hand, and demanded 
 his money. He had no wish to kill the Jew, I 
 believe, unless his resistance should render extreme 
 measures necessary. 
 
 "Nor did he commit any such murder; for, as the 
 yelling Jew roared for mercy, and his assailant 
 menaced him with a pistol, a squad of patrol came 
 up, and laid hold of the robber and the wounded 
 man. 
 
 "Kerner swore an oath. 'You have come too 
 
98 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 soon/ said he to the sergeant of the police. 'Foxes 
 are loose.' 'Some are caught/ said the sergeant, 
 quite unconcerned; and bound the fellow's hands 
 with the rope which he had stretched across the 
 road to entrap the Jew. He was placed behind a 
 policeman on a horse; Lowe was similarly accom- 
 modated, and the party thus came back into the 
 town as the night fell. 
 
 "They were taken forthwith to the police quarter; 
 and, as the chief happened to be there, they were 
 examined by his Excellency in person. Both were 
 rigorously searched; the Jew's papers and cases 
 taken from him: the jewel was found in a private 
 pocket. As for the spy, the Minister, looking at 
 him angrily, said, 'Why, this is the servant of 
 Chevalier de Magny, one of her highness's equer- 
 ries!' and, without hearing a word in exculpation 
 from the poor frightened wretch, ordered him into 
 close confinement. 
 
 " Calling for his horse, he then rode to the prince's 
 apartments at the palace, and asked for an instant 
 audience. When admitted, he produced the 
 emerald. 'This jewel/ said he, 'has been found on 
 the person of a Heidelberg Jew, who has been here 
 repeatedly of late, and has had many dealings with 
 her highness's equerry, the Chevalier de Magny. 
 This afternoon the chevalier's servant came from 
 his master's lodgings, accompanied by the Hebrew; 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY 99 
 
 was heard to make inquiries as to the route the man 
 intended to take on his way homewards; followed 
 him, or preceded him rather, and was found in the 
 act of rifling his victim by my police in the Kaiser- 
 wald. The man will confess nothing; but, on being 
 searched, a large sum in gold was found on his 
 person; and though it is with the utmost pain that 
 I can bring myself to entertain such an opinion, and 
 to implicate a gentleman of the character and name 
 of Monsieur de Magny, I do submit that our duty 
 is to have the chevalier examined relative to the 
 affair. As Monsieur de Magny is in her highness's 
 private service, and in her confidence, I have heard, 
 I would not venture to apprehend him without your 
 highness's permission/ 
 
 "The prince's Master of the Horse, a friend of the 
 old Baron de Magny, who was present at the inter- 
 view, no sooner heard the strange intelligence, than 
 he hastened away to the old general with the 
 dreadful news of his grandson's supposed crime. 
 Perhaps his highness himself was not unwilling 
 that his old friend and tutor in arms should have 
 the chance of saving his family from disgrace; at 
 all events, Monsieur de Hengst, the Master of the 
 Horse, was permitted to go off to the baron undis- 
 turbed, and break to him the intelligence of the 
 accusation pending over the unfortunate chevalier. 
 
 "It is possible that he expected some such dread- 
 
100 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 ful catastrophe, for, after hearing Hengst's narrative 
 (as the latter afterwards told me), he only said, 
 * Heaven's will be done!' for some time refused to 
 stir a step in the matter, and then only by the 
 solicitation of his friend was induced to write the 
 letter which Maxime de Magny received at our 
 play-table. 
 
 "Whilst he was there, squandering the princess's 
 money, a police visit was paid to his apartments, 
 and a hundred proofs, not of his own guilt with 
 respect to the robbery, but of his guilty connection 
 with the princess, were discovered there, tokens 
 of her giving, passionate letters from her, copies of 
 his own correspondence to his young friends at 
 Paris, all of which the Police Minister perused, 
 and carefully put together under seal for his high- 
 ness, Prince Victor. I have no doubt he perused 
 them, for, on delivering them to the hereditary 
 prince, Geldern said that, in obedience to his high- 
 ness's orders, he had collected the chevalier's papers; 
 but he need not say that, on his honor, he (Geldern) 
 himself had never examined the documents. His 
 difference with Messieurs de Magny was known; 
 he begged his highness to employ any other official 
 person in the judgment of the accusation brought 
 against the young chevalier. 
 
 "All these things were going on while the cheva- 
 lier was at play. A run of luck you had great 
 
THE PRINCESS'S- TRAGEDY joi 
 
 luck in those days, Monsieur de Balibari was 
 against him. He stayed and lost his 4,000 ducats. 
 He received his uncle's note, and, such was the in- 
 fatuation of the wretched gambler, that, on receipt 
 of it, he went down to the courtyard, where the 
 horse was in waiting, absolutely took the money 
 which the poor old gentleman had placed in the 
 saddle-holsters, brought it upstairs, played it, and 
 lost it; and when he issued from the room to fly, it 
 was too late: he was placed in arrest at the bottom 
 of my staircase, as you were upon entering your own 
 home. 
 
 "Even when he came in under the charge of the 
 soldiery, sent to arrest him, the old general who was 
 waiting, was overjoyed to see him, and flung him- 
 self into the lad's arms, and embraced him: it was 
 said, for the first time in many years. 'He is here, 
 gentlemen/ he sobbed out, ' thank God, he is not 
 guilty of the robbery!' and then sank back in a 
 chair in a burst of emotion ; painful it was said by 
 those present, to witness on the part of a man so 
 brave, and known to be so cold and stern. 
 
 " ' Robbery !' said the young man, ' I swear before 
 heaven I am guilty of none!' and a scene of most 
 touching reconciliation passed between them, before 
 the unhappy young man was led from the guard- 
 house into the prison which he was destined never to 
 quit. 
 
102 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "That night the duke looked over the papers 
 which Geldern had brought to him. It was at a 
 very early stage of the perusal, no doubt, that he 
 gave orders for your arrest; for you were taken at 
 midnight, Magny at ten o'clock; after which time 
 the old Baron de Magny had seen his highness, 
 protesting of his grandson's innocence, and the 
 prince had received him most graciously and kindly. 
 His highness said he had no doubt the young man 
 was innocent; his birth and his blood rendered such 
 a crime impossible; but suspicion was too strong 
 against him; he was known to have been that day 
 closeted with the Jew; to have received a very large 
 sum of money which he squandered at play, and of 
 which the Hebrew had doubtless been the lender, 
 to have despatched his servant after him, who 
 inquired the hour of the Jew's departure, lay in wait 
 for him, and rifled him. Suspicion was so strong 
 against the chevalier, that common justice required 
 his arrest; and, meanwhile, until he cleared himself, 
 he should be kept in not dishonorable durance, and 
 every regard had for his name, and the services of 
 his honorable grandfather. With this assurance, 
 and with a warm grasp of the hand, the prince left 
 old General de Magny that night; and the veteran 
 retired to rest, almost consoled and confident in 
 Maxime's eventual and immediate release. 
 
 "But in the morning, before daybreak, the prince, 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY 
 
 103 
 
 who had been reading papers all night, wildly called 
 to the page, who slept in the next room across the 
 door, bade him get horses, which were always kept 
 in readiness in the stables, and, flinging a parcel of 
 letters into a box, told the page to follow him on 
 horseback with these. The young man (Monsieur 
 de Weissenborn) told this to a young lady who was 
 then of my household, and who is now Madame de 
 Weissenborn, and a mother of a score of children. 
 
 "The page described that never was such a 
 change seen as in his august master in the course of 
 that single night. His eyes were bloodshot, his face 
 livid, his clothes were hanging loose about him, and 
 he who had always made his appearance on parade 
 as precisely dressed as any sergeant of his troops, 
 might have been seen galloping through the lonely 
 streets at early dawn without a hat, his unpowdered 
 hair streaming behind him like a madman. 
 
 "The page, with the box of papers, clattered aftei 
 his master, it was no easy task to follow him; and 
 they rode from the palace to the town, and through 
 it to the general's quarter. The sentinels at the 
 door were scared by the strange figure that rushed 
 up to the general's gate, and, not knowing him, 
 crossed bayonets, and refused him admission. 
 'Fools/ said Weissenborn, 'it is the prince!' And, 
 jangling at the bell, as if for an alarm of fire, the 
 door was at length opened by the porter, and his 
 
104 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 highness ran up to the general's bedchamber, 
 followed by the page with the box. 
 
 '"Magny Magny,' roared the prince, thunder- 
 ing at the closed door, 'get up!' And to the queries 
 of the old man from within, answered, 'It is I 
 Victor the prince! get up!' And presently the 
 door was opened by the general in his robe-de- 
 chambre, and the prince entered. The page brought 
 in the box, and was bidden to wait without, which 
 he did; but there led from Monsieur de Magny 's 
 bedroom into his ante-chamber two doors, the great 
 one which formed the entrance into his room, and a 
 smaller one which led, as the fashion is with our 
 houses abroad, into the closet which communicates 
 with the alcove where the bed is. The door of this 
 was found by M. de Weissenborn to be open, and 
 the young man was thus enabled to hear and see 
 everything which occurred within the apartment. 
 
 "The general, somewhat nervously, asked what 
 was the reason of so early a visit from his highness; 
 to which the prince did not for a while reply, farther 
 than by staring at him rather wildly, and pacing up 
 and down the room. 
 
 "At last he said, 'Here is the cause!' dashing his 
 fist on the box; and, as he had forgotten to bring 
 the key with him, he went to the door for a moment, 
 saying, 'Weissenborn perhaps has it;' but, seeing 
 over the stove one of the general's couteaux-de- 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY 105 
 
 chasse, he took it down, and said, 'That will do/ 
 and fell to work to burst the red trunk open with 
 the blade of the forest-knife. The point broke, and 
 he gave an oath, but continued haggling on with the 
 broken blade, which was better suited to his purpose 
 than the long, pointed knife, and finally succeeded 
 in wrenching open the lid of the chest. 
 
 " ' What is the matter?' said he, laughing. ' Here's 
 the matter: read that! here's more matter, read 
 that! here's more no, not that; that's some- 
 body else's picture but here's hers ! Do you know 
 that, Magny? My wife's the princess's! Why 
 did you and your cursed race ever come out of 
 France, to plant your infernal wickedness wherever 
 your feet fell, and to ruin honest German homes? 
 What have you and yours ever had from my family 
 but confidence and kindness? We gave you a home 
 when you had none, and here's our reward!' and he 
 flung a parcel of papers down before the old general; 
 who saw the truth at once : he had known it long 
 before, probably, and sunk down on his chair, cover- 
 ing his face. 
 
 "The prince went on gesticulating, and shrieking 
 almost. 'If a man injured you so, Magny, before 
 you begot the father of that gambling, lying villain 
 yonder, you would have known how to revenge 
 yourself. You would have killed him! Yes, would 
 have killed him. But who's to help me to my 
 
106 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 revenge? I've no equal. I can't meet that dog of a 
 Frenchman, that pimp from Versailles, and 
 kill him, as if he had played the traitor to one of his 
 own degree/ 
 
 "'The blood of Maxime de Magny,' said the old 
 gentleman, proudly, 'is as good as that of any prince 
 in Christendom.' 
 
 "'Can I take it?' cried the prince: 'you know I 
 can't. I can't have the privilege of any other 
 gentleman of Europe. What am I to do? Look 
 here, Magny: I was wild when I came here: I 
 didn't know what to do. You've served me for 
 thirty years; you've saved my life twice: they are 
 all knaves and harlots about my poor old father 
 here no honest men or women you are the only 
 one you saved my life : tell me what am I to 
 do?' Thus, from insulting Monsieur de Magny, 
 the poor distracted prince fell to supplicating him; 
 and, at last, fairly flung himself down, and burst 
 out in an agony of tears. 
 
 "Old Magny, one of the most rigid and cold of 
 men on common occasions, when he saw this out- 
 break of passion on the prince's part, became, as 
 my informant has described to me, as much affected 
 as his master. The old man, from being cold and 
 high, suddenly fell, as it were, into a whimpering 
 querulousness of extreme old age. He lost all sense 
 of dignity: he went down on his knees, and broke 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY 107 
 
 out into all sorts of wild, incoherent attempts at con- 
 solation; so much so, that Weissenborn said he 
 could not bear to look at the scene, and actually 
 turned away from the contemplation of it. 
 
 " But, from what followed in a few days, we may 
 guess the results of the long interview. The prince, 
 when he came away from the conversation with his 
 old servant, forgot his fatal box of papers and sent 
 the page back for them. The general was on his 
 knees praying in the room when the young man 
 entered, and only stirred and looked round wildly 
 as the other removed the packet. The prince rode 
 away to his hunting-lodge at three leagues from 
 
 X , and three days after that Maxime de Magny 
 
 died in prison; having made a confession that he 
 was engaged in an attempt to rob the Jew, and that 
 he had made away with himself, ashamed of his 
 dishonor. 
 
 "But it is not known that it was the general him- 
 self who took his grandson poison : it was said even 
 that he shot him in the prison. This, however, was 
 not the case. General de Magny carried his grand- 
 son the draught which was to carry him out of the 
 world; represented to the wretched youth that his" 
 fate was inevitable; that it would be public and 
 disgraceful unless he chose to anticipate the punish- 
 ment, and so left him. But it was not of his own 
 accord, and not until he had used every means of 
 
108 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 escape, as you shall hear, that the unfortunate 
 being's life was brought to an end. 
 
 "As for General de Magny, he quite fell into im- 
 becility a short time after his grandson's death, and 
 my honored duke's demise. After his highness the 
 
 prince married the Princess Mary of F , as 
 
 they were walking in the English park together 
 they once met old Magny riding in the sun on the 
 easy chair, in which he was carried commonly abroad 
 after his paralytic fits. 'This is my wife, Magny/ 
 said the prince, affectionately, taking the veteran's 
 hand; and he added, turning to this princess, 
 * General de Magny saved my life during the Seven 
 Years' War.' 
 
 "'What, you've taken her back again?' said the 
 old man. 'I wish you'd send me back my poor 
 Maxime.' He had quite forgotten the death of the 
 poor Princess Olivia, and the prince, looking very 
 dark indeed, passed away. 
 
 "And now," said Madame de Liliengarten, "I 
 have only one more gloomy story to relate to you 
 the death of the Princess Olivia. It is even more 
 horrible than the tale I have just told you." With 
 which preface the old lady resumed her narrative. 
 
 "The kind, weak princess's fate was hastened, if 
 not occasioned, by the cowardice of Magny. He 
 found means to communicate with her from his 
 prison, and her highness, who was not in open dis- 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY 109 
 
 grace yet (for the duke, out of regard to the family, 
 persisted in charging Magny with only robbery), 
 made the most desperate efforts to relieve him, and 
 to bribe the jailers to effect his escape. She was so 
 wild that she lost all patience and prudence in the 
 conduct of any schemes she may have had for 
 Magny's liberation ; for her husband was inexorable, 
 and caused the chevalier's prison to be too strictly 
 guarded for escape to be possible. She offered the 
 state jewels in pawn to the court banker; who of 
 course was obliged to decline the transaction. She 
 fell down on her knees, it is said, to Geldern, the 
 Police Minister, and offered him heaven knows what 
 as a bribe. Finally, she came screaming to my poor 
 dear duke, who, with his age, diseases, and easy 
 habits, was quite unfit for scenes of so violent a 
 nature; and who, in consequence of the excitement 
 created in his august bosom by her frantic violence 
 and grief, had a fit in which I very nigh lost him. 
 That his dear life was brought to an untimely end 
 by these transactions I have not the slightest doubt; 
 for the Strasbourg pie, of which they said he died, 
 never, I am sure, could have injured him, but for 
 the injury which his dear gentle heart received from 
 the unusual occurrences in which he was forced to 
 take a share. 
 
 "All her highness's movements were carefully, 
 though not ostensibly, watched by her husband, 
 
HO BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Prince Victor; who, waiting upon his august father, 
 sternly signified to him that if his highness (my duke) 
 should dare to aid the princess in her efforts to 
 release Magny, he, Prince Victor, would publicly 
 accuse the princess and her paramour of high 
 treason, and take measures with the Diet for re- 
 moving his father from the throne, as incapacitated 
 to reign. Hence, interposition on our part was vain, 
 and Magny was left to his fate. 
 
 "It came, as you are aware, very suddenly. 
 Geldern, Police Minister, Hengst, Master of the 
 Horse, and the colonel of the prince's guard, waited 
 upon the young man in his prison two days after 
 his grandfather had visited him there and left 
 behind him the phial of poison which the criminal 
 had not the courage to use. And Geldern signified 
 to the young man that unless he took of his own 
 accord the laurel-water provided by the elder 
 Magny, more violent means of death would be 
 instantly employed upon him, and that a file of 
 grenadiers was in waiting in the courtyard to 
 despatch him. Seeing this, Magny, with the most 
 dreadful self-abasement, after dragging himself 
 round the room on his knees, from one officer to 
 another, weeping and screaming with terror, at last 
 desperately drank off the potion, and was a corpse 
 in a few minutes. Thus ended this wretched young 
 man. 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY m 
 
 "His death was made public in the Court Gazette 
 two days after, the paragraph stating that Monsieur 
 de M , struck with remorse for having at- 
 tempted the murder of the Jew, had put himself to 
 death by poison in prison; and a warning was 
 added to all young noblemen of the duchy to avoid 
 the dreadful sin of gambling, which had been the 
 cause of the young man's ruin, and had brought 
 upon the gray hairs of one of the noblest and most 
 honorable of the servants of the 'duke irretrievable 
 sorrow. 
 
 "The funeral was conducted with decent privacy, 
 the General de Magny attending it. The carriage of 
 the two dukes and all the first people of the court 
 made their calls upon the general afterwards. He 
 attended parade as usual the next day on the 
 Arsenal Place, and Duke Victor, who had been in- 
 specting the building, came out of it leaning on the 
 brave old warrior's arm. He was particularly 
 gracious to the old man, and told his officers the oft- 
 repeated story how at Rosbach, when the X 
 contingent served with the troops of the unlucky 
 Soubise, the general had thrown himself in the way 
 of a French dragoon who was pressing hard upon 
 his highness in the rout, had received the blow 
 intended for his master, and killed the assailant. 
 And he alluded to the family motto of ' Magny sans 
 tache,' and said, 'It had always been so with his 
 
1 12 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 gallant friend and tutor in arms.' This speech 
 affected all present very much, with the exception of 
 the old general, who only bowed and did not speak; 
 but when he went home he was heard muttering, 
 'Magny sans tache, Magny sans tache!' and was 
 attacked with paralysis that night, from which he 
 never more than partially recovered. 
 
 "The news of Maxime's death had somehow been 
 kept from the princess until now: a Gazette even 
 being printed without the paragraph containing the 
 account of his suicide; but it was at length, I know 
 not how, made known to her. And when she heard 
 it, her ladies tell me, she screamed and fell, as if 
 struck dead; then sat up wildly and raved like a 
 madwoman, and was then carried to her bed, where 
 her physician attended her, and where she lay of a 
 brain-fever. All this while the prince used to send 
 to make inquiries concerning her; and from his 
 giving orders that his castle of Schlangenfels should 
 be prepared and furnished, I make no doubt it was 
 his intention to send her into confinement thither; 
 as had been done with the unhappy sister of his 
 Britannic Majesty at Zell. 
 
 "She sent repeatedly to demand an interview 
 with his highness, which the latter declined, saying 
 that he would communicate with her highness when 
 her health was sufficiently recovered. To one of 
 her passionate letters he sent back for reply a packet, 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY 113 
 
 which, when opened, was found to contain the 
 emerald that had been the cause round which all 
 this dark intrigue moved. 
 
 "Her highness at this time became quite frantic; 
 vowed in the presence of all her ladies that one lock 
 of her darling Maxime's hair was more precious to 
 her than all the jewels in the world; rang for her 
 carriage, and said she would go and kiss his tomb; 
 proclaimed the murdered martyr's innocence, and 
 called down the punishment of heaven, the wrath ofi 
 her family, upon his assassin. The prince, on hear- 
 ing these speeches (they were all, of course, regu- 
 larly brought to him), is said to have given one of 
 his dreadful looks (which I remember now), and to 
 have said, 'This cannot last much longer.' 
 
 "All that day and the next the Princess Olivia 
 passed in dictating the most passionate letters to 
 the prince her father, to the Kings of France, Naples, 
 and Spain, her kinsmen, and to all other branches of 
 her family, calling upon them in the most incoherent 
 terms to protect her against the butcher and assassin 
 her husband, assailing his person in the maddest 
 terms of reproach, and at the same time confessing 
 her love for the murdered Magny. It was in vain 
 that those ladies who were faithful to her pointed 
 out to her the inutility of these letters, the dangerous 
 folly of the confessions which they made; she 
 insisted upon writing them, and used to give them to 
 
II 4 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 her second robe- woman, a Frenchwoman (her high- 
 ness always affectioned persons of that nation), who 
 had the key of her cassette, and carried every one of 
 these epistles to Geldern. 
 
 "With the exception that no public receptions 
 were held, the ceremony of the princess's estab- 
 lishment went on as before. Her ladies were allowed 
 to wait upon her and perform their usual duties 
 about her person. The only men admitted were, 
 however, her servants, her physician and chaplain; 
 and one day when she wished to go into the garden 
 a heyduc, who kept the door, intimated to her high- 
 ness that the prince's orders were that she should 
 keep her apartments. 
 
 "They abut, as you remember, upon the landing 
 
 of the marble staircase of Schloss X ; the 
 
 entrance to Prince Victor's suite of rooms being 
 opposite the princess's on the same landing. This 
 space is large, filled with sofas and benches, and the 
 gentlemen and officers who waited upon the duke 
 used to make a sort of ante-chamber of the landing 
 place, and pay their court to his highness there, 
 as he passed out at eleven o'clock to parade. At 
 such a time, the heyducs within the princess's suite 
 of rooms used to turn out with their halberts and 
 present to Prince Victor the same ceremony 
 being performed on his own side, when pages came 
 out and announced the approach of his highness. 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY II5 
 
 The pages used to come out and say, 'The prince, 
 gentlemen!' and the drums beat in the hall, and the 
 gentlemen rose, who were waiting on the benches 
 that ran along the balustrade. 
 
 "As if fate impelled her to her death, one day the 
 princess, as her guards turned out, and she was 
 aware that the prince was standing as was his wont, 
 on the landing, conversing with his gentlemen (in 
 the old days he used to cross to the princess's apart- 
 ment and kiss her hand) the princess, who had 
 been anxious all the morning, complaining of heat, 
 insisting that all the doors of the apartments should 
 be left open ; and giving tokens of an insanity which 
 I think was now evident, rushed wildly at the doors 
 when the guards passed out, flung them open, and 
 before a word could be said, or her ladies could 
 follow her, was in presence of Duke Victor, who was 
 talking as usual on the landing: placing herself 
 between him and the stair, she began apostrophizing 
 him with frantic vehemence: 
 
 " 'Take notice, gentlemen!' she screamed out, 
 ' that this man is a murderer and a liar; that he lays 
 plots for honorable gentlemen, and kills them in 
 prison! Take notice, that I too am in prison, and 
 fear the same fate: the same butcher who killed 
 Maxime de Magny, may, any night, put the knife to 
 my throat. I appeal to you, and to all the kings of 
 Europe, my royal kinsmen. I demand to be set 
 
Il6 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 free from this tyrant and villain, this liar and traitor! 
 I adjure you all, as gentlemen of honor, to carry 
 these letters to my relatives, and say from whom 
 you had them!' and with this the unhappy lady 
 began scattering letters about among the astonished 
 crowd. 
 
 " l Let no man stoop!" 1 cried the prince, in a voice 
 of thunder. ' Madame de Gleim, you should have 
 watched your patient better. Call the princess's 
 physicians: her highness's brain is affected. 
 Gentlemen, have the goodness to retire.' And the 
 prince stood on the landing as the gentlemen went 
 down the stairs, saying fiercely to the guard, 
 1 Soldier, if she moves, strike with your halbert!' 
 en which the man brought the point of his weapon 
 to the princess's breast; and the lady, frightened, 
 shrank back and re-entered her apartments. 'Now, 
 Monsieur de Weissenborn,' said the prince, 'pick 
 up all those papers:' and the prince went into his 
 own apartments, preceded by his pages, and never 
 quitted them until he had seen every one of the 
 papers burnt. 
 
 "The next day the Court Gazette contained a 
 bulletin signed by the three physicians, stating that 
 'her highness the Hereditary Princess labored under 
 inflammation of the brain, and had passed a restless 
 and disturbed night.' Similar notices were issued 
 day after day. The services of all her ladies, except 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY 117 
 
 two, were dispensed with Guards were placed 
 within and without her doors; her windows were 
 secured, so that escape from them was impossible: 
 and you know what took place ten days after. The 
 church-bells were ringing all night, and the prayers 
 of the faithful asked for a person in extremis. A 
 Gazette appeared in the morning, edged with black, 
 and stating that the high and mighty Princess 
 Olivia Maria Ferdinanda, consort of his Serene 
 Highness Victor Louis Emanuel, Hereditary Prince 
 
 of X , had died in the evening of the 24th of 
 
 January, 1769. 
 
 "But do you know how she died, sir? That, too, 
 is a mystery, Wcissenborn, the page, was concerned 
 in this dark tragedy; and the secret was so dreadful, 
 that never, believe me, till Prince Victor's death did 
 I reveal it. 
 
 "After the fatal esclandre which the princess had 
 made, the prince sent for Weissenborn, and binding 
 him by the most solemn adjuration to secrecy, (he 
 only broke it to his wife many years after: indeed, 
 there is no secret in the world that women cannot 
 know if they will), despatched him on the following 
 mysterious commission. 
 
 " 'There lives,' said his highness, 'on the Kehl 
 side of the river, opposite to Strasbourg, a man 
 whose residence you will easily find out from his 
 name, which is Monsieur de Strasbourg. You will 
 
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 make your inquiries concerning him quietly, and 
 without occasioning any remark; perhaps you had 
 better go into Strasbourg for the purpose, where the 
 person is quite well-known. You will take with you 
 any comrade on whom you can perfectly rely: the 
 lives of both, remember, depend on your secrecy. 
 You will find out some period when Monsieur de 
 Strasbourg is alone, or only in company of the 
 domestic who lives with him: (I myself visited 
 the man by accident on my return from Paris five 
 years since, and hence am induced to send for him 
 now, in my present emergency). You will have your 
 carriage waiting at his door at night; and you and 
 your comrade will enter his house masked; and 
 present him with a purse of a hundred louis; prom- 
 ising him double that sum on his return from his 
 expedition. If he refuse, you must use force and 
 bring him; menacing him with instant death should 
 he decline to follow you. You will place him in the 
 carriage with the blinds drawn, one or other of you 
 never losing sight of him the whole way, and threat- 
 ening him with death if he discover himself or cry 
 out. You will lodge him in the Old Tower here, 
 where a room shall be prepared for him; and his 
 work being done, you will restore him to his home 
 in the same speed and secrecy with which you 
 brought him from it.' 
 
 "Such were the mysterious orders Prince Victor 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY 
 
 119 
 
 gave his page; and Weissenborn, selecting for his 
 comrade in the expedition Lieutenant Bartenstein, 
 set out on his strange journey. 
 
 "All this while the palace was hushed, as if in 
 mourning; the bulletins in the Court Gazette ap- 
 peared, announcing the continuance of the princess's 
 malady; and though she had but few attendants, 
 strange and circumstantial stories were told regard- 
 ing the progress of her complaint. She was quite 
 wild. She had tried to kill herself. She had fancied 
 herself to be I don't know how many different 
 characters. Expresses were sent to her family 
 informing them of her state, and couriers despatched 
 publicly to Vienna and Paris to procure the attend- 
 ance of physicians skilled in treating diseases of the 
 brain. That pretended anxiety was all a feint: it 
 was never intended that the princess should recover. 
 
 "The day on which Weissenborn and Bartenstein 
 returned from their expedition, it was announced 
 that her highness the princess was much worse; 
 that night the report through the town was that she 
 was at the agony: and that night the unfortunate 
 creature was endeavoring to make her escape. 
 
 "She had unlimited confidence in the French 
 chamber-woman who attended her, and between 
 her and this woman the plan of escape was arranged. 
 The princess took her jewels in a casket; a private 
 door, opening from one of her rooms and leading 
 
120 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 into the outer gate it was said, of the palace, was 
 discovered for her; and a letter was brought to her, 
 purporting to be from the duke her father-in-law, 
 and stating that a carriage and horses had been 
 provided, and would take her to B : the ter- 
 ritory where she might communicate with her 
 family and be safe. 
 
 "The unhappy lady, confiding in her guardian, 
 set out on the expedition. The passages wound 
 through the walls of the modern part of the palace 
 and abutted in effect at the old Owl Tower, as it 
 was called, on the outer wall: the tower was pulled 
 down afterwards, and for good reason. 
 
 "At a certain place the candle, which the cham- 
 ber-woman was carrying, went out; and the princess 
 would have screamed with terror, but her hand was 
 seized, and a voice cried, ' Hush ! ' The next minute 
 a man in a mask (it was the duke himself) rushed 
 forward, gagged her with a handkerchief, her hands 
 and legs were bound, and she was carried swooning 
 with terror into a vaulted room, where she was 
 placed by a person there waiting, and tied in an arm- 
 chair. The same mask who had gagged her, came 
 and bared her neck and said, 'It had best be done 
 now she has fainted.' 
 
 "Perhaps it would have been as well; for though 
 she recovered from her swoon, and her confessor, 
 vvho was present, came forward and endeavored to 
 
THE PRINCESS'S TRAGEDY I2 i 
 
 prepare her for the awful deed which was about to 
 be done upon her, and for the state into which she 
 was about to enter, when she came to herself it was 
 only to scream like a maniac, to curse the duke as a 
 butcher and tyrant, and to call upon Magny, her 
 dear Magny. 
 
 "At this the duke said, quite calmly, 'May God 
 have mercy on her sinful soul!' He, the confessor, 
 and Geldern, who were present, went down on their 
 knees; and, as his highness dropped his handker- 
 chief, Weissenborn fell down in a fainting fit; while 
 Monsieur de Strasbourg, taking the back hair in his 
 hand, separated the shrieking head of Olivia from 
 the miserable, sinful body. May heaven have 
 mercy upon her soul!" 
 
 This was the story told by Madame de Lilien- 
 garten, and the reader will have no difficulty in 
 drawing from it that part which affected myself and 
 my uncle; who, after six weeks of arrest, were set 
 at liberty, but with orders to quit the duchy imme- 
 diately: indeed, with an escort of dragoons to con- 
 duct us to the frontier. What property we had we 
 were allowed to sell and realize in money; but none 
 of our play debts were paid to us: and all my hopes 
 of the Countess Ida were thus at an end. 
 
122 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 When Duke Victor came to the throne, which he 
 did when, six months after, apoplexy carried off 
 the old sovereign his father, all the good old usages 
 
 of X were given up, play forbidden; the 
 
 opera and ballet sent to the right-about; and the 
 regiments which the old duke had sold recalled 
 from their foreign service: with them came my 
 countess's beggarly cousin the ensign, and he 
 married her. I don't know whether they were happy 
 or not. It is certain that a woman of such a poor 
 spirit did not merit any very high degree of pleasure. 
 
 The now reigning Duke of X himself 
 
 married four years after his first wife's demise, and 
 Geldern, though no longer Police Minister, built 
 the grand house of which Madame de Liliengarten 
 spoke. What became of the minor actors in the 
 great tragedy, who knows? Only Monsieur de 
 Strasbourg was restored to his duties. Of the rest, 
 the Jew, the chamber-woman, the spy on Magny, 
 I know nothing. Those sharp tools with which 
 great people cut out their enterprises, are generally 
 broken in the using: nor did I ever hear that their 
 employers had much regard for them in their ruin. 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 
 Bv MRS. GASKELL 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 
 
 You know, my dears, that your mother was an 
 orphan, and an only child; and I dare say you have 
 heard that your grandfather was a clergyman up in 
 Westmoreland, where I come from. I was just a 
 girl in the village school, when, one day, your 
 grandmother came in to ask the mistress if there 
 was any scholar there who would do for a nurse- 
 maid; and mighty proud I was, I can tell ye, when 
 the mistress called me up, and spoke to my being 
 a good 'girl at my needle, and a steady, honest girl, 
 and one whose parents were < very respectable, 
 though they might be poor. I thought I should 
 like nothing better than to serve the pretty young 
 lady, who was blushing as deep as I was, as she 
 spoke of the coming baby, and what I should have 
 to do with it. However, I see you don't care so 
 much for this part of my story, as for what you 
 think is to come, so I'll tell you at once. I was 
 engaged and settled at the parsonage before Miss 
 Rosamond (that was the baby, who is now your 
 mother) was born. To be sure, I had little enough 
 to do with her when she came, for she was never out 
 of her mother's arms, and slept by her all night 
 long; and proud enough was I sometimes when 
 125 
 
126 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 missis trusted her to me. There never was such a 
 baby before or since, though you've all of you been 
 fine enough in your turns; but for sweet, winning 
 ways, you've none of you come up to your mother. 
 She took after her mother, who was a real lady born; 
 a Miss Furnivall, a grand-daughter of Lord Furni- 
 valPs, in Northumberland. I believe she had 
 neither brother nor sister, and had been brought up 
 in my lord's family till she had married your grand- 
 father, who was just a curate, son to a shopkeeper in 
 Carlisle but a clever, fine gentleman as ever was 
 
 and one who was a right-down hard worker in his 
 parish, which was very wide, and scattered all 
 abroad over the Westmoreland Fells. When your 
 mother, little Miss Rosamond, was about four or 
 five years old, both her parents died in a fortnight 
 
 one after the other. Ah! that was a sad time. 
 My pretty young mistress and me was looking for 
 another baby, when my master came home from one 
 of his long rides, wet and tired, and took the fever 
 he died of; and then she never held up her head 
 again, but just lived to see her dead baby, and 
 have it laid on her breast, before she sighed away her 
 life. My mistress had asked me, on her death-bed, 
 never to leave Miss Rosamond; but if she had 
 never spoken a word, I would have gone with the 
 little child to the end of the world. 
 
 The next thing, and before we had well stilled 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 127 
 
 our sobs, the executors and guardians came to 
 settle the affairs. They were my poor young 
 mistress's own cousin, Lord Furnivall, and Mr. 
 Esthwaite, my master's brother, a shopkeeper in 
 Manchester; not so well-to-do then as he was 
 afterwards, and with a large family rising about 
 him. Well! I don't know if it were their settling, 
 or because of a letter my mistress wrote on her 
 death-bed to her cousin, my lord; but somehow 
 it was settled that Miss Rosamond and me were to 
 go to Furnivall Manor House, in Northumberland, 
 and my lord spoke as if it had been her mother's 
 wish that she should live with his family, and as if he 
 had no objections, for that one or two more or less 
 could make no difference in so grand a household. 
 So, though that was not the way in which I should 
 have wished the coming of my bright and pretty pet 
 to have been looked at who was like a sunbeam 
 in any family, be it never so grand I was well 
 pleased that all the folks in the Dale should stare 
 and admire, when they heard I was going to be 
 young lady's maid at my Lord FurnivalPs at 
 Furnivall Manor. 
 
 But I made a mistake in thinking we were to go 
 and live where my lord did. It turned out that the 
 family had left Furnivall Manor House fifty years 
 or more. I could not hear that my poor young mis- 
 tress had ever been there, though she had been 
 
128 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 brought up in the family; and I was sorry for that, 
 for I should have liked Miss Rosamond's youth to 
 have passed where her mother's had been. 
 
 My lord's gentleman, from whom I asked as many 
 questions as I durst, said that the Manor House 
 was at the foot of the Cumberland Fells, and a very 
 grand place; that an old Miss Furnivall, a great- 
 aunt of my lord's, lived there, with only a few 
 servants; but that it was a very healthy place, and 
 my lord had thought that it would suit Miss Rosa- 
 mond very well for a few years, and that her being 
 there might perhaps amuse his old aunt. 
 
 I was bidden by my lord to have Miss Rosamond's 
 things ready by a certain day. He was a stern, 
 proud man, as they say all the Lords Furnivall were; 
 and he never spoke a word more than was necessary. 
 Folk did say he had loved my young mistress; but 
 that, because she knew that his father would 
 object, she would never listen to him, and married 
 Mr. Esthwaite; but I don't know. He never mar- 
 ried, at any rate. But he never took much notice of 
 Miss Rosamond; which I thought he might have 
 done if he had cared for her dead mother. He sent 
 his gentleman with us to the Manor House, telling 
 him to join him at Newcastle that same evening; so 
 there was no great length of time for him to make 
 us known to all the strangers before he, too, shook 
 us off; and we were left, two lonely young things 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 129 
 
 (I was not eighteen) in the great old Manor House. 
 It seems like yesterday that we drove there. We 
 had left our own dear parsonage very early, and we 
 had both cried as if our hearts would break, though 
 we were travelling in my lord's carriage, which I 
 thought so much of once. And now it was long past 
 noon on a September day, and we stopped to 
 change horses for the last time at a little smoky 
 town, all full of colliers and miners. Miss Rosamond 
 had fallen asleep, but Mr. Henry told me to waken 
 her, that she might see the park and the Manor 
 House as we drove up. I thought it rather a pity; 
 but I did what he bade me, for fear he should 
 complain of me to my lord. We had left all signs of a 
 town, or even a village, and w r ere then inside the 
 gates of a large wild park not like the parks here 
 in the south, but with rocks, and the noise of 
 running water, and gnarled thorn-trees, and old 
 oaks, all white and peeled with age. 
 
 The road went up about two miles, and then we 
 saw a great and stately house, with- many trees 
 close around it, so close that in some places their 
 branches dragged against the walls when the wind 
 blew; and some hung broken down; for no one 
 seemed to take much charge of the place; to lop 
 the wood, or to keep the moss-covered carriage-way 
 in order. Only in front of the house all was clear. 
 The great oval drive was without a weed; and 
 
130 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 neither tree nor creeper was allowed to grow over 
 the long, many- windowed front; at both sides of 
 which a wing projected, which were each the ends 
 of other side fronts; for the house, although it was 
 so desolate, was even grander than I expected. 
 Behind it rose the Fells, which seemed unenclosed 
 and bare enough; and on the left hand of the 
 house, as you stood facing it, was a little, old- 
 fashioned flower-garden, as I found out afterwards. 
 A door opened out upon it from the west front; it 
 had been scooped out of the thick, dark wood for 
 some old Lady Furnivall; but the branches of the 
 great forest trees had grown and overshadowed it 
 again, and there were very few flowers that would 
 live there at that time. 
 
 When we drove up to the great front entrance, 
 and went into the hall, I thought we should be lost 
 it was so large, and vast, and grand. There was a 
 chandelier all of bronze, hung down from the middle 
 of the ceiling; and I had never seen one before, and 
 looked at it all in amaze. Then, at one end of the 
 hall, was a great fireplace, as large as the sides of the 
 houses in my country, with massy andirons and 
 dogs to hold the wood; and by it were heavy, 
 old-fashioned sofas. At the opposite end of the 
 hall, to the left as you went in on the western 
 side was an organ built into the wall, and so 
 large that it filled up the best part of that end. 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 131 
 
 Beyond it, on the same side, was a door; and 
 opposite, on each side of the fireplace, were also 
 doors leading to the east front; but those I never 
 went through as long as I stayed in the house, so I 
 can't tell you what lay beyond. 
 
 The afternoon was closing in, and the hall, which 
 had no fire lighted in it, looked dark and gloomy, 
 but we did not stay there a moment. The old 
 servant, who had opened the door for us, bowed to 
 Mr. Henry, and took us in through the door at the 
 further side of the great organ, and led us through 
 several smaller halls and passages into the west 
 drawing-room, where he said that Miss Furnivall 
 was sitting. Poor little Miss Rosamond held very 
 tight to me, as if she were scared and lost in that 
 great place; and as for myself, I was not much 
 better. The west drawing-room was very cheerful- 
 looking, with a warm fire in it, and plenty of good, 
 comfortable furniture about. Miss Furnivall was 
 an old lady not far from eighty, I should think, but I 
 do not know. She was thin and tall, and had a face 
 as full of fine wrinkles as if they had been drawn all 
 over it with a needle's points. Her eyes were very 
 watchful, to make up, I suppose, for her being so 
 deaf as to be obliged to use a trumpet. Sitting with 
 her, working at the same great piece of tapestry, 
 was Mrs. Stark, her maid and companion, and 
 almost as old as she was. She had lived with Miss 
 
1 3 2 
 
 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Furnivall ever since they both were young, and 
 now she seemed more like a friend than a servant; 
 she looked so cold, and gray, and stony, as if she had 
 never loved or cared for any one; and I don't 
 suppose she did care for any one, except her mistress; 
 and, owing to the great deafness of the latter, Mrs. 
 Stark treated her very much as if she were a child. 
 Mr. Henry gave some message from my lord, and 
 then he bowed good-by to us all, taking no notice 
 of my sweet little Miss Rosamond's outstretched 
 hand and left us standing there, being looked at 
 by the two old ladies through their spectacles. 
 
 I was right glad when they rung for the old 
 footman who had shown us in at first, and told him 
 to take us to our rooms. So we went out of that 
 great drawing-room, and into another sitting-room, 
 and out of that, and then up a great flight of stairs, 
 and along a broad gallery which was something 
 like a library, having books all down one side, and 
 windows and writing tables all down the other 
 till we came to our rooms, which I was not sorry to 
 hear were just over the kitchens; for I began to 
 think I should be lost in that wilderness of a house. 
 There was an old nursery, that had been used for all 
 the little lords and ladies long ago, with a pleasant 
 fire burning in the grate, and the kettle boiling on 
 the hob, and tea-things spread out on the table; 
 and out of that room was the night-nursery, with a 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 133 
 
 little crib for Miss Rosamond close to my bed. 
 And old James called up Dorothy, his wife, to bid us 
 welcome; and both he and she were so hospitable 
 and kind, that by-and-by Miss Rosamond and me 
 felt quite at home; and by the time tea was over, she 
 was sitting on Dorothy's knee, and chattering away 
 as fast as her little tongue could go. I soon found 
 out that Dorothy was from Westmoreland, and that 
 bound her and me together, as it were; and I would 
 never wish to meet with kinder people than were old 
 James and his wife. James had lived pretty nearly 
 all his life in my lord's family, and thought there was 
 no one so grand as they. He even looked down a 
 little on his wife; because, till he had married her, 
 she had never lived in any but a farmer's household. 
 But he was very fond of her, as well he might be. 
 They had one servant under them, to do all the 
 rough work. Agnes they called her; and she and 
 me, and James and Dorothy, with Miss Furnivall 
 and Mrs. Stark, made up the family; always re- 
 membering my sweet little Miss Rosamond! I 
 used to wonder what they had done before she 
 came, they thought so much of her now. Kitchen 
 and drawing-room, it was all the same. The hard, 
 sad Miss Furnivall, and the cold Mrs. Stark, 
 looked pleased when she came fluttering in like a 
 bird, playing and pranking hither and thither, 
 with a continual murmur, and pretty prattle of 
 
134 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 gladness. I am sure, they were sorry .many a time 
 when she flitted away into the kitchen, though they 
 were too proud to ask her to stay with them, and 
 were a little surprised at her taste; though to be 
 sure, as Mrs. Stark said, it was not to be wondered 
 at, remembering what stock her father had come of. 
 The great, old rambling house was a famous place 
 for little Miss Rosamond. She made expeditions all 
 over it, with me at her heels; all, except the east 
 wing, which was never opened, and whither we 
 never thought of going. But in the western and 
 northern part was many a pleasant room; full of 
 things that were curiosities to us, though they 
 might not have been to people who had seen more. 
 The windows were darkened by the sweeping 
 boughs of the trees, and the ivy which had over- 
 grown them; but, in the green gloom, we could 
 manage to see old china jars and carved ivory 
 boxes, and great heavy books, and, above all, the 
 old pictures! 
 
 Once, I remember, my darling would have 
 Dorothy go with us to tell us who they all were; for 
 they were all portraits of some of my lord's family, 
 though Dorothy could not tell us the names of 
 every one. We had gone through most of the 
 rooms, when we came to the old state drawing-room 
 over the hall, and there was a picture of Miss 
 Furnivall; or, as she was called in those days, 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 135 
 
 Miss Grace, for she was the younger sister. Such a 
 beauty she must have been! but with such a set, 
 proud look, and such scorn looking out of her hand- 
 some eyes, with her eyebrows just a little raised, 
 as if she wondered how any one could have the im- 
 pertinence to look at her, and her lip curled at us, 
 as we stood there gazing. She had a dress on, the 
 like of which I had never seen before, but it was all 
 the fashion when she was young: a hat of some 
 soft white stuff like beaver, pulled a little over her 
 brows, and a beautiful plume of feathers sweeping 
 round it on one side; and her gown of blue satin 
 was open in front to a quilted white stomacher. 
 
 "Well, to be sure!" said I, when I had gazed 
 my fill. " Flesh is grass, they do say; but who 
 would have thought that Miss Furnivall had been 
 such an out-an-out beauty, to see her now?" 
 
 "Yes," said Dorothy. "Folks change sadly. 
 But if what my master's father used to say was 
 true, Miss Furnivall, the elder sister, was handsomer 
 than Miss Grace. Her picture is here somewhere; 
 but, if I show it you, you must never let on, even to 
 James, that you have seen it. Can the little lady 
 hold her tongue, think you?" asked she. 
 
 I was not so sure, for she was such a little sweet, 
 bold, open spoken child, so I set her to hide herself; 
 and then I helped Dorothy to turn a great picture, 
 that leaned with its face towards the wall, and 
 
136 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 was not hung up as the others were. To be sure, it 
 beat Miss Grace for beauty; and, I think, for 
 scornful pride, too, though in that matter it might 
 be hard to choose. I could have looked at it an 
 hour, but Dorothy seemed half frightened at 
 having shown it to me, and hurried it back again, 
 and bade me run and find Miss Rosamond, for that 
 there were some ugly places about the house, where 
 she should like ill for the child to go. I was a brave, 
 high-spirited girl, and thought little of what the 
 old woman said, for I liked hide-and-seek as well 
 as any child in the parish; so off I ran to find my 
 little one. 
 
 As winter drew on, and the days grew shorter, I 
 was sometimes almost certain that I heard a noise 
 as if some one was playing on the great organ in the 
 hall. I did not hear it every evening; but, certainly, 
 I did very often, usually when I was sitting with 
 Miss Rosamond, after I had put her to bed, and 
 keeping quite still and silent in the bedroom. 
 Then I used to hear it booming and swelling away 
 in the distance. The first night, when I went down 
 to my supper, I asked Dorothy who had been 
 playing music, and James said very shortly that I 
 was a gowk to take the wind soughing among the 
 trees for music; but I saw Dorothy look at him 
 very fearfully, and Bessy, the kitchen-maid, said 
 something beneath her breath, and went quite 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 137 
 
 white. I saw they did not like my question, so I 
 held my peace till I was with Dorothy alone, when 
 I knew I could get a good deal out of her. So, the 
 next day, I watched my time, and I coaxed and 
 asked her who it was that played the organ; for I 
 knew that it was the organ and not the wind well 
 enough, for all I had kept silence before James. 
 But Dorothy had had her lesson, I'll warrant, and 
 never a word could I get from her. So then I tried 
 Bessy, though I had always held my head rather 
 above her, as I was evened to James and Dorothy, 
 and she was little better than their servant. So 
 she said I must never, never tell ; and if ever I told, 
 I was never to say she had told me; but it was a 
 very strange noise, and she had heard it many a 
 time, but most of all on winter nights, and before 
 storms; and folks did say it was the old lord playing 
 on the great organ in the hall, just as he used to do 
 when he was alive; but who the old lord was, or why 
 he played, and why he played on stormy winter 
 evenings in particular, she either could not or 
 would not tell me. Well ! I told you I had a brave 
 heart; and I thought it was rather pleasant to have 
 that grand music rolling about the house, let who 
 would be the player; for now it rose above the 
 great gusts of wind, and wailed and triumphed 
 just like a living creature, and then it fell to a 
 softness most complete, only it was always music, 
 
138 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 and tunes, so it was nonsense to call it the wind. 
 I thought at first, that it might be Miss Furnivall 
 who played, unknown to Bessy; but one day, 
 when I was in the hall by myself, I opened the 
 organ and peeped all about it and around it, as I had 
 done to the organ in Crosthwaite Church once 
 before, and I saw it was all broken and destroyed 
 inside, though it looked so brave and fine; and then, 
 though it was noon-day, my flesh began to creep a 
 little, and I shut it up, and run away pretty quickly 
 to my own bright nursery; and I did not like 
 hearing the music for some time after that, any more 
 than James and Dorothy did. All this time Miss 
 Rosamond was making herself more and more 
 beloved. The old ladies liked her to dine with 
 them at their early dinner. James stood behind 
 Miss Furnivall's chair, and I behind Miss Rosa- 
 mond's all in state; and after dinner, she would 
 play about in a corner of the great drawing-room as 
 still as any mouse, while Miss Furnivall slept, and I 
 had my dinner in the kitchen. But she was glad 
 enough to come to me in the nursery afterwards; 
 for, as she said, Miss Furnivall was so sad, and 
 Mrs. Stark so dull; but she and I were merry 
 enough; and by-and-by, I got not to care for that 
 weird rolling music, which did one no harm, if we 
 did not know where it came from. 
 
 That winter was very cold. In the middle of 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 139 
 
 October the frosts began, and lasted many, many 
 weeks. I remember one day, at dinner, Miss 
 Furnivall lifted up her sad, heavy eyes, and said to 
 Mrs. Stark, "I am afraid we shall have a terrible 
 winter," in a strange kind of meaning way. But 
 Mrs. Stark pretended not to hear, and talked very 
 loud of something else. My little lady and I did 
 not care for the frost; not we! As long as it was 
 dry, we climbed up the steep brows behind the 
 house, and went up on the Fells, which were bleak 
 and bare enough, and there we ran races in the 
 fresh, sharp air; and once we came down by a new 
 path, that took us past the two old gnarled holly- 
 trees, which grew about halfway down by the east 
 side of the house. But the days grew shorter and 
 shorter, and the old lord, if it was he, played away, 
 more and more stormily and sadly, on the great 
 organ. One Sunday afternoon it must have been 
 towards the end of November I asked Dorothy 
 to take charge of little missy when she came out of 
 the drawing-room, after Miss Furnivall had had her 
 nap; for it was too cold to take her with me to 
 church, and yet I wanted to go. And Dorothy was 
 glad enough to promise, and was so fond of the 
 child, that all seemed well; and Bessy and I set off 
 very briskly, though the sky hung heavy and black 
 over the white earth, as if the night had never fully 
 gone away, and the air, though still, was very biting 
 and keen. 
 
140 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "We shall have a fall of snow," said Bessy to me. 
 And sure enough, even while we were in church, it 
 came down thick, in great large flakes so thick, 
 it almost darkened the windows. It had stopped 
 snowing before we came out, but it lay soft, thick, 
 and deep beneath our feet, as we tramped home. 
 Before we got to the hall, the moon rose, and I 
 think it was lighter then what with the moon, 
 and what with the white dazzling snow than it 
 had been when we went to church, between two and 
 three o'clock. I have not told you that Miss Furni- 
 vall and Mrs. Stark never went to church; they 
 used to read the prayers together, in their quiet, 
 gloomy way; they seemed to feel the Sunday very 
 long without their tapestry-work to be busy at. 
 So when I went to Dorothy in the kitchen, to fetch 
 Miss Rosamond and take her upstairs with me, I 
 did not much wonder when the old woman told me 
 that the ladies had kept the child with them, and 
 that she had never come to the kitchen, as I had 
 bidden her, when she w r as tired of behaving pretty in 
 the drawing-room. So I took off my things and 
 went to find her, and bring her to her supper in the 
 nursery. But when I went into the best .drawing- 
 room, there sat the two old ladies, very still and 
 quiet, dropping out a word now and then, but look- 
 ing as if nothing so bright and merry as Miss Rosa- 
 mond had ever been near them. Still I thought she 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 141 
 
 might be hiding from me; it was one of her pretty 
 ways, and that she had persuaded them to look 
 as if they knew nothing about her; so I went softly 
 peeping under this sofa, and behind that chair, 
 making believe I was sadly frightened at not finding 
 her. 
 
 "What's the matter, Hester?" said Mrs. Stark 
 sharply. I don't know if Miss Furnivall had seen 
 me, for, as I told you, she was very deaf, and she sat 
 quite still, idly staring into the fire, with her hope- 
 less face. "I am only looking for my little Rosy 
 Posy," replied I, still thinking that the child was 
 there, and near me, though I could not see her. 
 
 "Miss Rosamond is not here," said Mrs. Stark. 
 "She went away, more than an hour ago, to find 
 Dorothy." And she, too, turned and went on look- 
 ing into the fire. 
 
 My heart sank at this, and I began to wish I had 
 never left my darling. I went back to Dorothy and 
 told her. James was gone out for the day, but she, 
 and me, and Bessy took lights, and went up into the 
 nursery first; and then we roamed over the great, 
 large house, calling and entreating Miss Rosamond 
 to come out of her hiding-place, and not frighten us 
 to death in that way. But there was no answer; no 
 sound. 
 
 "Oh!" said I, at last, "can she have got into the 
 east wing and hidden there?" 
 
142 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 But Dorothy said it was not possible, for that she 
 herself had never been in there; that the doors were 
 always locked, and my lord's steward had the keys, 
 she believed; at any rate, neither she nor James had 
 ever seen them : so I said I would go back, and see 
 if, after all, she was not hidden in the drawing-room, 
 unknown to the old ladies; and if I found her there, 
 I said, I would whip her well for the fright she 
 had given me; but I never meant to do it. 
 Well, I went back to the west drawing-room 
 and I told Mrs. Stark we could not find her 
 anywhere, and asked for leave to look all about the 
 furniture there, for I thought now that she might 
 have fallen asleep in some warm, hidden corner; 
 but no! we looked Miss Furnivall got up and 
 looked, trembling all over and she was nowhere 
 there; then we set off again, every one in the house, 
 and looked in all the places we had searched before, 
 but we could not find her. Miss Furnivall shivered 
 and shook so much, that Mrs. Stark took her back 
 into the warm drawing-room; but not before they 
 had made me promise to bring her to them when 
 she was found. Well-a-day! I began to think she 
 never would be found, when I bethought me to look 
 into the great front court, all covered with snow. I 
 was upstairs when I looked out; but, it was such 
 clear moonlight, I could see, quite plain, two little 
 footprints, which might be traced from the hall- 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 143 
 
 door and round the corner of the east wing. I don't 
 know how I got down, but I tugged open the great 
 stiff hall-door, and, throwing the skirt of my gown 
 over my head for a cloak, I ran out. I turned the 
 east corner, and there a black shadow fell on the 
 snow; but when I came again into the moonlight, 
 there were the little footmarks going up up to the 
 Fells. It was bitter cold; so cold, that the air almost 
 took the skin off my face as I ran; but I ran on, 
 crying to think how my poor little darling must be 
 perished and frightened. I was within sight of the 
 holly-trees, when I saw a shepherd coming down the 
 hill, bearing something in his arms wrapped in his 
 maud. He shouted to me and asked me if I had lost 
 a bairn; and, when I could not speak for crying, he 
 bore toward me, and I saw my wee bairnie, lying 
 still, and white, and stiff in his arms, as if she had 
 been dead. He told me he had been up the Fells to 
 gather in his sheep, before the deep cold of night 
 came on, and that under the holly-trees (black marks 
 on the hillside, where no other bush was for miles 
 around) he had found my little lady my lamb 
 my queen my darling stiff and cold in the 
 terrible sleep which is frost begotten. Oh! the joy 
 and the tears of having her in my arms once again ! 
 for I would not let him carry her; but took her, 
 maud and all, into my own arms, and held her near 
 my own warm neck and heart, and felt the life 
 
144 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 stealing slowly back again into her little gentle 
 limbs. But she was still insensible when we reached 
 the hall, and I had no breath for speech. We went 
 in by the kitchen-door. 
 
 "Bring the warming-pan," said I; and I carried 
 her upstairs, and began undressing her by the nur- 
 sery fire, which Bessy had kept up. I called my 
 little lammie all the sweet and playful names I could 
 think of, even while my eyes were blinded by my 
 tears; and at last, oh! at length she opened her 
 large blue eyes. Then I put her into her warm bed, 
 and sent Dorothy down to tell Miss Furnivall that 
 all was well; and I made up my mind to sit by my 
 darling's bedside the live-long night. She fell away 
 into a soft sleep as soon as her pretty head had 
 touched the pillow, and I watched by her till 
 morning light; when she wakened up bright and 
 clear or so I thought at first and, my dears, so 
 I think now. 
 
 She said, that she had fancied that she should like 
 to go to Dorothy, for that both the old ladies were 
 asleep, and it was very dull in the drawing-room; 
 and that, as she was going through the west lobby, 
 she saw the snow through the high window falling 
 falling soft and steady; but she wanted to see it 
 lying pretty and white on the ground: so she made 
 her way into the great hall: and then, going to the 
 window, she saw it bright and soft upon the drive; 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 145 
 
 but while she stood there, she saw a little girl, not so 
 old as she was, "but so pretty," said my darling, 
 "and this little girl beckoned to me to come out; 
 and oh, she was so pretty and so sweet, I could not 
 choose but go." And then this other little girl had 
 taken her by the hand, and side by side the two had 
 gone round the east corner. 
 
 "Now you are a naughty little girl, and telling 
 stories," said I. "What would your good mamma, 
 that is in heaven, and never told a story in her life, 
 say to her little Rosamond, if she heard her and 
 I dare say she does telling storeis!" 
 
 "Indeed, Hester," sobbed out my child, "I'm 
 telling you true. Indeed I am." 
 
 "Don't tell me!" said I, very stern. "I tracked 
 you by your foot-marks through the snow; there 
 were only yours to be seen: and if you had had a 
 little girl to go hand-in-hand with you up the hill, 
 don't you think the footprints would have gone 
 along with yours?" 
 
 "I can't help it, dear, dear Hester," said she, 
 crying, "if they did not; I never looked at her feet, 
 but she held my hand fast and tight in her little one, 
 and it was very, very cold. She took me up the 
 Fell-path, up to the holly- trees; and there I saw a 
 lady weeping and crying; but when she saw me she 
 hushed her weeping, and smiled very proud and 
 grand, and took me on her knee, and began to lull 
 
146 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 me to sleep; and that's all, Hester but that is 
 true; and my dear mamma knows it is," said she, 
 crying. So I thought the child was in a fever, and 
 pretended to believe her, as she went over her story 
 over and over again, and always the same. At 
 last Dorothy knocked at the door with Miss Rosa- 
 mond's breakfast; and she told me the old ladies 
 were down in the eating parlor, and that they 
 wanted to speak to me. They had both been into 
 the night-nursery the evening before, but it was 
 after Miss Rosamond was asleep; so they had only 
 looked at her not asked me any questions. 
 
 "I shall catch it," thought I to myself, as I went 
 along the north gallery. "And yet," I thought, 
 taking courage, "it was in their charge I left her; 
 and it's they that's to blame for letting her steal 
 away unknown and unwatched." So I went in 
 boldly, and told my story. I told it all to Miss Fur- 
 nivall, shouting it close to her ear; but when I came 
 to the mention of the other little girl out in the snow, 
 coaxing and tempting her out, and wiling her up to 
 the grand and beautiful lady by the holly-tree, she 
 threw her arms up her old and withered arms 
 and cried aloud, "Oh! Heaven forgive! Have 
 mercy!" 
 
 Mrs. Stark took hold of her; roughly enough, I 
 thought; but she was past Mrs. Stark's management, 
 and spoke to me, in a kind of wild warning and 
 authority. 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 147 
 
 "Hester! keep her from that child! It will lure 
 her to her death! That evil child! Tell her it is a 
 wicked, naughty child." Then, Mrs. Stark hurried 
 me out of the room; where, indeed, I was glad 
 enough to go; but Miss Furnivall kept shrieking 
 out, "Oh, have mercy! Wilt Thou never forgive! 
 It is many a long year ago " 
 
 I was very uneasy in my mind after that. I durst 
 never leave Miss Rosamond, night or day, for fear 
 lest she might slip off again, after some fancy or 
 other; and all the more, because I thought I could 
 make out that Miss Furnivall was crazy, from their 
 odd ways about her; and I was afraid lest some- 
 thing of the same kind (which might be in the 
 family, you know) hung over my darling. And the 
 great frost never ceased all this time; and, whenever 
 it was a more stormy night than usual, between the 
 gusts, and through the wind, we heard the old lord 
 playing on the great organ. But, old lord, or not, 
 wherever Miss Rosamond went, there I followed; for 
 my love for her, pretty, helpless orphan, was 
 stronger than my fear for the grand and terrible 
 sound. Besides, it rested with me to keep her cheer- 
 ful and merry, as beseemed her age. So we played 
 together, and wandered together, here and there, 
 and everywhere; for I never dared to lose sight 
 of her again in that large and rambling house. And 
 so it happened, that one afternoon, not long before 
 
148 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Christmas-day, we were playing together on the 
 billiard-table in the great hall (not that we knew 
 the right way of playing, but she liked to roll the 
 smooth ivory balls with her pretty hands, and I 
 liked to do whatever she did);- and, by-and-by, 
 without our noticing it, it grew dusk indoors, 
 though it was light in the open air, and I was think- 
 ing of taking her back into the nursery, when all of 
 a sudden she cried out 
 
 "Look, Hester! look! there is my poor little girl 
 out in the snow!" 
 
 I turned towards the long narrow windows, and 
 there, sure enough, I saw a little girl, less than my 
 Miss Rosamond dressed all unfit to be out-of- 
 doors such a bitter night crying, and beating 
 against the window panes, as if she wanted to be let 
 in. She seemed to sob and wail, till Miss Rosamond 
 could bear it no longer, and was flying to the door to 
 open it, when, all of a sudden, and close upon us, 
 the great organ pealed out so loud and thundering, 
 it fairly made me tremble; and all the more, when I 
 remembered me that, even in the stillness of that 
 dead-cold weather, I had heard no sound of little 
 battering hands upon the window-glass, although the 
 phantom child had seemed to put forth all its force; 
 and, although I had seen it wail and cry, no faintest 
 touch of sound had fallen upon my ears. Whether 
 I remembered all this at the very moment, I do not 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 149 
 
 know; the great organ sound had so stunned me 
 into terror; but this I know, I caught up Miss Rosa- 
 mond before she got the hall-door opened, and 
 clutched her, and carried her away, kicking and 
 screaming, into the large bright kitchen, where 
 Dorothy and Agnes were busy with their mince-pies. 
 
 "What is the matter with my sweet one?" cried 
 Dorothy, as I bore in Miss Rosamond, who was 
 sobbing as if her heart would break. 
 
 "She won't let me open the door for my little girl 
 to come in; and she'll die if she is out on the Fells 
 all night. Cruel, naughty Hester," she said, slapping 
 me; but she might have struck harder, for I had seen 
 a look of ghastly terror on Dorothy's face, which 
 made my very blood run cold. 
 
 "Shut the back-kitchen door fast, and bolt it 
 well," said she to Agnes. She said no more; she 
 gave me raisins and almonds to quiet Miss Rosa- 
 mond; but she sobbed about the little girl in the 
 snow, and would not touch any of the good things. 
 I was thankful when she cried herself to sleep in bed. 
 Then I stole down to the kitchen, and told Dorothy 
 I had made up my mind. I would carry my darling 
 back to my father's house, in Applethwaite; where, 
 if we lived humbly, we lived in peace. I said I had 
 been frightened enough with the old lord's organ- 
 playing; but now that I had seen for myself this 
 little moaning child, all decked out as no child in 
 
150 
 
 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 the neighborhood could be, beating and battering 
 to get in, yet always without any sound or noise 
 with the dark wound on its right shoulder; and that 
 Miss Rosamond had known it again for the phan- 
 tom that had nearly lured her to her death (which 
 Dorothy knew was true); I would stand it no 
 longer. 
 
 I saw Dorothy change color once or twice. When 
 I had done, she told me she did not think I could 
 take Miss Rosamond with me, for that she was my 
 lord's ward, and I had no right over her; and she 
 asked me would I leave the child that I was so fond 
 of just for sounds and sights that could do me no 
 harm; and that they had all had to get used to in 
 their turns? I was all in a hot, trembling passion; 
 and I said it was very well for her to talk, that knew 
 what these sights and noises betokened, and that 
 had, perhaps, had something to do with the spectre 
 child while it was alive. And I taunted her so, that 
 she told me all she knew at last; and then I wished I 
 had never been told, for it only made me more afraid 
 than ever. 
 
 She said she had heard the tale from old neighbors 
 that were alive when she was first married; when 
 folks used to come to the hall sometimes, before it 
 had got such a bad name on the country side: it 
 might not be true, or it might, what she had been 
 told. 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 151 
 
 The old lord was Miss Furnivall's father Miss 
 Grace, as Dorothy called her, for Miss Maude was 
 the elder, and Miss Furnivall by rights. The old 
 lord was eaten up with pride. Such a proud man was 
 never seen or heard of; and his daughters were like 
 him. No one was good enough to wed them, 
 although they had choice enough; for they were the 
 great beauties of their day, as I had seen by their 
 portraits, where they hung in the state drawing- 
 room. But, as the old saying is, " Pride will have a 
 fall;" and these two haughty beauties fell in love 
 with the same man, and he no better than a foreign 
 musician, whom their father had down from London 
 to play music with him at the Manor House. For 
 above all things, next to his pride, the old lord loved 
 music. He could play on nearly every instrument 
 that ever was heard of; and it was a strange thing it 
 did not soften him; but he was a fierce dour old 
 man, and had broken his wife's heart with his 
 cruelty, they said. He was mad after music, and 
 would pay any money for it. So he got this for- 
 eigner to come; who made such beautiful music, that 
 they said the very birds on the trees stopped their 
 singing to listen. And, by degrees, this foreign 
 gentleman got such a hold over the old lord, that 
 nothing would serve him but that he must come 
 every year; and it was he that had the great organ 
 brought from Holland, and built up in the hall, 
 
152 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 where it stood now. He taught the old lord to play 
 on it; but many and many a time, when Lord Fur- 
 nivall was thinking of nothing but his fine organ, 
 and his finer music, the dark foreigner was walking 
 abroad in the woods with one of the young ladies; 
 now Miss Maude, and then Miss Grace. 
 
 Miss Maude won the day and carried off the 
 prize, such as it was; and he and she were married, 
 all unknown to any one; and, before he made his 
 next yearly visit, she had been confined of a little 
 girl at a farm-house on the Moors, while her father 
 and Miss Grace thought she was away at Doncaster 
 Races. But though she was a wife and a mother, 
 she was not a bit softened, but as haughty and as 
 passionate as ever; and perhaps more so, for she 
 was jealous of Miss Grace, to whom her foreign 
 husband paid a deal of court by way of blinding 
 her as he told his wife. But Miss Grace tri- 
 umphed over Miss Maude, and Miss Maude grew 
 fiercer and fiercer, both with her husband and with 
 her sister; and the former who could easily 
 shake off what was disagreeable, and hide himself in 
 foreign countries went away a month before his 
 usual time that summer, and half-threatened that 
 he would never come back again. Meanwhile, the 
 little girl was left at the farm-house, and her mother 
 used to have her horse saddled and gallop wildly 
 over the hills to see her once every week, at the very 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 153 
 
 least; for where she loved she loved, and where she 
 hated she hated. And the old lord went on playing 
 playing on his organ; and the servants thought 
 the sweet music he made had soothed down his 
 awful temper, of which (Dorothy said) some terrible 
 tales could be told. He grew infirm too, and had to 
 walk with a crutch; and his son that was the 
 present Lord Furnivall's father was with the 
 army in America, and the other son at sea: so Miss 
 Maude had it pretty much her own way, and she 
 and Miss Grace grew colder and bitterer to each 
 other every day; till at last they hardly ever 
 spoke, except when the old lord was by. The 
 foreign musician came again the next summer, but 
 it was for the last time; for they led him such a life 
 with their jealousy and their passions, that he grew 
 weary, and went away, and never was heard of 
 again. And Miss Maude, who had always meant to 
 have her marriage acknowledged when her father 
 should be dead, was left now a deserted wife, whom 
 nobody knew to have been married, with a child 
 that she dared not own, although she loved it to 
 distraction; living with a father whom she feared 
 and a sister whom she hated. When the next sum- 
 mer passed over, and the dark foreigner never came, 
 both Miss Maude and Miss Grace grew gloomy and 
 sad; they had a haggard look about them, though 
 they looked handsome as ever. But, by-and-by, 
 
154 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Miss Maude brightened; for her father grew more 
 arid more infirm, and more than ever carried away 
 by his music; and she and Miss Grace lived almost 
 entirely apart, having separate rooms, the one on 
 the west side, Miss Maude on the east those very 
 rooms which were now shut up. So she thought she 
 might have her little girl with her, and no one need 
 ever know except those who dared not speak about 
 it, and were bound to believe that it was, as she said, 
 a cottager's child she had taken a fancy to All this, 
 Dorothy said, was pretty well known; but what 
 came afterwards no one knew, except Miss Grace 
 and Mrs. Stark, who was even then her maid, and 
 much more of a friend to her than ever her sister had 
 been. But the servants supposed, from words that 
 were dropped, that Miss Maude had triumphed over 
 Miss Grace, and told her that all the time the dark 
 foreigner had been mocking her with pretended 
 love he was her own husband. The color left 
 Miss Grace's cheek and lips that very day for ever, 
 and she was heard to say many a time that sooner or 
 later she would have her revenge; and Mrs. Stark 
 was for ever spying about the east rooms. 
 
 One fearful night, just after the New Year had 
 come in, when the snow was lying thick and deep; 
 and the flakes were still falling fast enough to 
 blind any one who might be out and abroad there 
 was a great and violent noise heard, and the old 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 155 
 
 lord's voice above all, cursing and swearing awfully, 
 and the cries of a little child, and the proud defiance 
 of a fierce woman, and the sound of a blow, and a 
 dead stillness, and moans and wailings, dying away 
 on the hill-side ! Then the old lord summoned all the 
 servants, and told them, with terrible oaths, and 
 words more terrible, that his daughter had dis- 
 graced herself, and that he had turned her out of 
 doors her, and her child and that if ever they 
 gave her help, or food, or shelter, he prayed that 
 they might never enter heaven. And, all the while, 
 Miss Grace stood by him, white and still as any 
 stone; and, when he had ended, she heaved a great 
 sigh, as much as to say her work was done, and her 
 end was accomplished. But the old lord never 
 touched his organ again, and died within the year,' 
 and no wonder! for, on the morrow of that wild and 
 fearful night, the shepherds, coming down the Fell 
 side, found Miss Maude sitting, all crazy and smiling, 
 under the holly-trees, nursing a dead child, with a 
 terrible mark on its right shoulder. "But that was 
 not what killed it," said Dorothy: " it was the frost 
 and the cold. Every wild creature was in its hole, 
 and every beast in its fold, while the child and its 
 mother were turned out to wander on the Fells! 
 And now you know all ! and I wonder if you are less 
 frightened now!" 
 
 I was more frightened than ever; but I said I 
 
156 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 was not. I wished Miss Rosamond and myself well 
 out of that dreadful house for ever; but I would not 
 leave her, and I dared not take her away. But oh, 
 how I watched her, and guarded her! We bolted 
 the doors, and shut the window-shutters fast, an 
 hour or more before dark, rather than leave them 
 open five minutes too late. But my little lady still 
 heard the weird child crying and mourning; and not 
 all we could do or say could keep her from wanting 
 to go to her, and let her in from the cruel wind and 
 the snow. All this time I kept away from Miss 
 Furnivall and Mrs. Stark, as much as ever I could; 
 for I feared them I knew no good could be about 
 them, with their gray, hard faces, and their dreamy 
 eyes, looking back into the ghastly years that were 
 gone. But, even in my fear, I had a kind of pity for 
 Miss Furnivall, at least. Those gone down to the 
 pit can hardly have a more hopeless look than that 
 which was ever on her face. At last I even got so 
 sorry for her who never said a word but what was 
 quite forced from her that I prayed for her; and 
 I taught Miss Rosamond to pray for one who had 
 done a deadly sin; but often when she came to those 
 words, she would listen, and start up from her knees, 
 and say, "I hear my little girl plaining and crying, 
 very sad, oh,. let her in, or she will die!" 
 
 One night, just after New Year's Day had come 
 at last, and the long winter had taken a turn, as I 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 157 
 
 hoped I heard the west drawing-room bell ring 
 three times, which was the signal for me. I would 
 not leave Miss Rosamond alone, for all she was 
 asleep for the old lord had been playing wilder 
 than ever and I feared lest my darling should 
 waken to hear the spectre child; see her I knew she 
 could not. I had fastened the windows too well for 
 that. So I took her out of her bed, and wrapped her 
 up in such outer clothes as were most handy, and 
 carried her down to the drawing-room, where the 
 old ladies sat at their tapestry-work as usual. They 
 looked up when I came in, and Mrs. Stark asked, 
 quite astounded, "Why did I bring Miss Rosamond 
 there, out of her warm bed?" I had begun to 
 whisper, " Because I was afraid of her being tempted 
 out while I was away, by the wild child in the snow," 
 when she stopped me short (with a glance at Miss 
 Furnivall), and said Miss Furnivall wanted me to 
 undo some work she had done wrong, and which 
 neither of them could see to unpick. So I laid my 
 pretty dear on the sofa, and sat down on a stool by 
 them, and hardened my heart against them, as I 
 heard the wind rising and howling. 
 
 Miss Rosamond slept on sound, for all the wind 
 blew so; and Miss Furnivall said never a word, nor 
 looked around when the gusts shook the windows. 
 All at once she started up to her full height, and put 
 up one hand, as if to bid us listen. 
 
158 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "I hear voices!" said she. "I hear terrible 
 screams I hear my father's voice! " 
 
 Just at that moment my darling wakened with a 
 sudden start: "My little girl is crying, oh, how she 
 is crying! " and she tried to get up and go to her, but 
 she got her feet entangled in the blanket, and I 
 caught her up; for my flesh had begun to creep at 
 these noises, which they heard while we could catch 
 no sound. In a minute or two the noises came, and 
 gathered fast, and filled our ears; we, too, heard 
 voices and screams, and no longer heard the winter's 
 wind that raged abroad. Mrs. Stark looked at me, 
 and I at her, but we dared not speak. Suddenly 
 Miss Fur ni vail went towards the door, out into the 
 ante-room, through the west lobby, and opened the 
 door into the great hall. Mrs. Stark followed, and I 
 durst not be left, though my heart almost stopped 
 beating for fear. I wrapped my darling tight in my 
 arms, and went out with them. In the hall the 
 screams were louder than ever; they seemed to come 
 from the east wing nearer and nearer close on 
 the other side of the locked-up doors close be- 
 hind them. Then I noticed that the great bronze 
 chandelier seemed all alight, though the hall was 
 dim, and that a fire was blazing in the vast hearth- 
 place, though it gave no heat; and I shuddered up 
 with terror, and folded my darling closer to me. 
 But as I did so the east door shook, and she, suddenly 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 159 
 
 struggling to get free from me, cried, "Hester! I 
 must go. My little girl is there! I hear her; she is 
 coming! Hester, I must go!" 
 
 I held her tight with all my strength; with a set 
 will, I held her. If I had died, my hands would have 
 grasped her still, I was so resolved in my mind. 
 Miss Furnivall stood listening, and paid no regard 
 to my darling, who had got down to the ground, and 
 whom I, upon my knees now, was holding with both 
 my arms clasped round her neck; she was still 
 striving and crying to get free. 
 
 All at once, the east door gave way with a thun- 
 dering crash, as if torn open in a violent passion, and 
 there came into that broad and mysterious light, the 
 figure of a tall old man, with gray hair and gleaming 
 eyes. He drove before him, with many a relentless 
 gesture of abhorrence, a stern and beautiful woman, 
 with a little child clinging to her dress. 
 
 "O Hester! Hester!" cried Miss Rosamond; 
 "it's the lady! the lady below the holly-trees; and 
 my little girl is with her. Hester! Hester! let me 
 go to her; they are drawing me to 'them. I feel 
 them I feel them. I must go! " 
 
 Again she was almost convulsed by her efforts to 
 get away; but I held her tighter and tighter, till I 
 feared I should do her a hurt; but rather that than 
 let her go towards those terrible phantoms. They 
 passed along towards the great hall-door, where the 
 
l6o BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 winds howled and ravened for their prey ; but before 
 they reached that, the lady turned; and I could see 
 that she defied the old man with a fierce and proud 
 defiance; but then she quailed and then she 
 threw up her arms wildly and piteously to save her 
 child her little child from a blow from his up- 
 lifted crutch. 
 
 And Miss Rosamond was torn as by a power 
 stronger than mine, and writhed in my arms, and 
 sobbed (for by this time the poor darling was grow- 
 ing faint). 
 
 "They want me to go with them on to the Fells 
 they are drawing me to them. Oh, my little girl! 
 I would come, but cruel, wicked Hester holds me 
 very tight." But when she saw the uplifted crutch, 
 she swooned away, and I thanked God for it. Just 
 at this moment when the tall old man, his hair 
 streaming as in the blast of a furnace, was going to 
 strike the little shrinking child Miss Furnivall, 
 the old woman by my side, cried out, "O father! 
 father! spare the little innocent child!" But just 
 then I saw we all saw another phantom shape 
 itself, and grow clear out of the blue and misty light 
 that filled the hall; we had not seen her till now, for 
 it was another lady who stood by the old man, with 
 a look of relentless hate and triumphant scorn. 
 That figure was very beautiful to look upon, with a 
 soft, white hat drawn down over the proud brows, 
 
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY 161 
 
 and a red and curling lip. It was dressed in an open 
 robe of blue satin. I had seen that figure before. 
 It was the likeness of Miss Furnivall in her youth; 
 and the terrible phantoms moved on, regardless of 
 old Miss Furnivall's wild entreaty, and the up- 
 lifted crutch fell on the right shoulder of the little 
 child, and the younger sister looked on, stony, and 
 deadly serene. But at that moment, the dim lights, 
 and the fire that gave no heat, went out of them- 
 selves, and Miss Furnivall lay at our feet stricken 
 down by the palsy death-stricken. 
 
 Yes ! she was carried to her bed that night never 
 to rise again. She lay with her face to the wall, 
 muttering low, but muttering always: "Alas! alas! 
 what is done in youth can never be undone in age! 
 What is done in youth can never be undone in age! " 
 
THE STORY OF RICHARD 
 DOUBLEDICK 
 
 BY CHARLES DICKENS 
 
THE STORY OF RICHARD 
 DOUBLEDICK 
 
 IN the year one thousand seven hundred and 
 ninety-nine, a relative of mine came limping down, on 
 foot, to this town of Chatham. I call it this town, 
 because if anybody present knows to a nicety where 
 Rochester ends and Chatham begins, it is more than 
 I do. He was a poor traveller, with not a farthing 
 in his pocket. He sat by the fire in this very room, 
 and he slept one night in a bed that will be occupied 
 to-night by some one here. 
 
 My relative came down to Chatham to enlist in a 
 cavalry regiment, if a cavalry regiment would have 
 him; if not, to take King George's shilling from 
 any corporal or sergeant who would put a bunch of 
 ribbons in his hat. His object was to get shot; but 
 he thought he might as well ride to death as be at 
 the trouble of walking. 
 
 My relative's Christian name was Richard, but 
 he was better known as Dick. He dropped his own 
 surname on the road down, and took up that of 
 Doubledick. He was passed as Richard Double- 
 dick; age, twenty- two; height, five foot ten; native 
 place, Exmouth, which he had never been near in 
 his life. There was no cavalry in Chatham when he 
 165 
 
l66 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 limped over the bridge here with half a shoe to his 
 dusty feet, so he enlisted into a regiment of the line, 
 and was glad to get drunk and forget all about it. 
 
 You are to know that this relative of mine had 
 gone wrong, and run wild. His heart was in the 
 right place, but it was sealed up. He had been 
 betrothed to a good and beautiful girl, whom he had 
 loved better than she or perhaps even he be- 
 lieved; but in an evil hour he had given her cause 
 to say to him solemnly, "Richard, I will never 
 marry another man. I will live single for your sake, 
 but Mary Marshall's lips" her name was Mary 
 Marshall " never address another word to you on 
 earth. Go, Richard! Heaven forgive you!" This 
 finished him. This brought him down to Chatham. 
 This made him Private Richard Doubledick, with a 
 determination to be shot. 
 
 There was not a more dissipated and reckless 
 soldier in Chatham barracks, in the year one thou- 
 sand seven hundred and ninety-nine, than Private 
 Richard Doubledick. He associated with the dregs 
 of every regiment; he was as seldom sober as he 
 could be, and was constantly under punishment. It 
 became clear to the whole barracks that Private 
 Richard Doubledick would very soon be flogged. 
 
 Now the Captain of Richard Doubledick's com- 
 pany was a young gentleman not above five years 
 his senior, whose eyes had an expression in them 
 
THE STORY OF RICHARD DOUBLEDICK 167 
 
 which affected Private Richard Doubledick in a 
 very remarkable way. They were bright, handsome, ' 
 dark eyes, what are called laughing eyes generally, 
 and, when serious, rather steady than severe, but 
 they were the only eyes now left in his narrowed 
 world that Private Richard Doubledick could not 
 stand. Unabashed by evil report and punishment, 
 defiant of everything else and everybody else, he 
 had but to know that those eyes looked at him for a 
 moment, and he felt ashamed. He could not so 
 much as salute Captain Taunton in the street like 
 any other officer. He was reproached and confused, 
 troubled by the mere possibility of the Captain's 
 looking at him. In his worst moments, he would 
 rather turn back, and go any distance out of his 
 way, than encounter those two handsome, dark, 
 bright eyes. 
 
 One day, when Private Richard Doubledick came 
 out of the Black Hole, where he had been passing the 
 last eight-and-forty hours, and in which retreat he 
 spent a good deal of his time, he was ordered to 
 betake himself to Captain Taunton's quarters. In 
 the stale and squalid state of a man just out of the 
 Black Hole, he had less fancy than ever for being 
 seen by the Captain; but he was not so mad yet as 
 to disobey orders, and consequently went up to the 
 terrace overlooking the parade ground, where the 
 officers' quarters were; twisting and breaking in his 
 
1 68 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 hand, as he went along, a bit of the straw that had 
 formed the decorative furniture of the Black Hole. 
 
 "Come in!" cried the Captain, when he knocked 
 with his knuckles at the door. Private Richard 
 Doubledick pulled off his cap, took a stride forward, 
 and felt very conscious that he stood in the light of 
 the dark, bright eyes. 
 
 There was a silent pause. Private Richard 
 Doubledick had put the straw in his mouth, and 
 was gradually doubling it up into his windpipe and 
 choking himself. 
 
 "Doubledick," said the Captain, "do you know 
 where you are going to?" 
 
 "To the Devil, Sir?" faltered Doubledick. 
 
 "Yes," returned the Captain. "And very fast." 
 
 Private Richard Doubledick turned the straw of 
 the Black Hole in his mouth, and made a miserable 
 salute of acquiescence. 
 
 "Doubledick," said the Captain, "since I entered 
 his Majesty's service, a boy of seventeen, I have 
 been pained to see many men of promise going that 
 road; but I have never been so pained to see a man 
 determined to make the shameful journey as I have 
 been, ever since you joined the regiment, to see you." 
 
 Private Richard Doubledick began to find a film 
 stealing over the floor at which he looked; also to 
 find the legs of the Captain's breakfast table turning 
 crooked, as if he saw them through water. 
 
THE STORY OF RICHARD DOUBLEDICK 169 
 
 "I am only a common soldier, Sir," said he. "It 
 signifies very little what such a poor brute comes to." 
 
 "You are a man," returned the Captain, with 
 grave indignation, "of education and superior ad- 
 vantages; and if you say that, meaning what you 
 say, you have sunk lower than I had believed. 
 How low that must be, I leave you to consider, 
 knowing what I know of your disgrace, and seeing 
 what I see." 
 
 "I hope to get shot soon, Sir," said Private 
 Richard Doubledick; "and then the regiment and 
 the world together will be rid of me." 
 
 The legs of the table were becoming very crooked. 
 Doubledick, looking up to steady his vision, met the 
 eyes that had so strong an influence over him. He 
 put his hand before his own eyes, and the breast of 
 his disgrace-jacket swelled as if it would fly asunder. 
 
 "I would rather," said the young Captain, "see 
 this in you, Doubledick, than I would see five 
 thousand guineas counted out upon this table for 
 a gift to my good mother. Have you a mother?" 
 
 "I am thankful to say she is dead, Sir." 
 
 "If your praises," returned the Captain, "were 
 sounded from mouth to mouth through the whole 
 regiment, through the whole army, through the 
 whole country, you would wish she had lived to say, 
 with pride and joy, 'He is my son!'" 
 
 "Spare me, Sir," said Doubledick, "she would 
 
170 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 never have heard any good of me. She would never 
 have had any pride and joy in owning herself my 
 mother. Love and compassion she might have had, 
 and would have always had, I know; but not 
 Spare me, Sir! I am a broken wretch, quite at your 
 mercy!" And he turned his face to the wall, and 
 stretched out his imploring hand. 
 
 "My friend " began the Captain. 
 
 "God bless you, Sir!' 7 sobbed Private Richard 
 Doubledick. 
 
 "You are at the crisis of your fate. Hold your 
 course unchanged a little longer, and you know 
 what must happen. I know even better than you 
 can imagine, that, after that has happened, you are 
 lost. No man who could shed those tears could bear 
 those marks." 
 
 "I fully believe it, Sir," in a low, shivering voice 
 said Private Richard Doubledick. 
 
 "But a man in any station can do his duty," said 
 the young Captain, "and, in doing it, can earn his 
 own respect, even if his case should be so very unfor- 
 tunate and so very rare that he can earn no other 
 man's. A common soldier, poor brute though you 
 called him just now, has this advantage in the 
 stormy times we live in, that he always does his 
 duty before a host of sympathizing witnesses. Do 
 you doubt that he may so do it as to be extolled 
 through a whole regiment, through a whole army, 
 
THE STORY OF RICHARD DOUBLEDICK 171 
 
 through a whole country? Turn while you may yet 
 retrieve the past, and try." 
 
 "I will! I ask for only one witness, Sir," cried 
 Richard, with a bursting heart. 
 
 "I understand you. I will be a watchful and a 
 faithful one." 
 
 I have heard from Private Richard Doubledick's 
 own lips, that he dropped down upon his knee, 
 kissed that officer's hand, arose, and went out of 
 the light of the dark, bright eyes, an altered man. 
 
 In that year, one thousand seven hundred and 
 ninety-nine, the French were in Egypt, in Italy, in 
 Germany, where not? Napoleon Bonaparte had 
 likewise begun to stir against us in India, and most 
 men could read the signs of the great troubles that 
 were coming on. ' In the very next year, when we 
 formed an alliance with Austria against him, Captain 
 Taunton's regiment was on service in India. And 
 there was not a finer non-commissioned officer in it, 
 no, nor in the whole line than Corporal 
 Richard Doubledick. 
 
 In eighteen hundred and one, the Indian army 
 were on the coast of Egypt. Next year was the year 
 of the proclamation of the short peace, and they 
 were recalled. It had then become well known to 
 thousands of men, that wherever Captain Taunton, 
 with the dark, bright eyes, led, there, close to him, 
 ever at his side, firm as a rock, true as the sun, and 
 
172 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 brave as Mars, would be certain to be found, while 
 life beat in their hearts, that famous soldier, Ser- 
 geant Richard Doubledick. 
 
 Eighteen hundred and five, besides being the 
 great year of Trafalgar, was a year of hard fighting 
 in India. That year saw such wonders done by a 
 Sergeant-Major, who cut his way single-handed 
 through a solid mass of men, recovered the colors 
 of his regiment, which had been seized from the 
 hand of a poor boy shot through the heart, and 
 rescued his wounded Captain, who was down, and 
 in a very jungle of horses' hoofs and sabres, saw 
 such wonders done, I say, by this brave Sergeant- 
 Major, that he was specially made the bearer of the 
 colors he had won; and Ensign Richard Doubledick 
 had risen from the ranks. 
 
 Sorely cut up in every battle, but always rein- 
 forced by the bravest of men, for the fame of 
 following the old colors, shot through and through, 
 which Ensign Richard Doubledick had saved, 
 inspired all breasts, this regiment fought its way 
 through the Peninsular war, up to the investment of 
 Badajos in eighteen hundred and twelve. Again 
 and again it had been cheered through the British 
 ranks until the tears had sprung into men's eyes at 
 the mere hearing of the mighty British voice, so 
 exultant in their valor; and there was not a drum-, 
 mer-boy but knew the legend, that wherever the 
 
THE STORY OF RICHARD DOUBLEDICK 173 
 
 two friends, Major Taunton, with the dark, bright 
 eyes, and Ensign Richard Doubledick, who was 
 devoted to him, were seen to go, there the boldest 
 spirits in the English army became wild to follow. 
 
 One day, at Badajos, not in the great storming, 
 but in repelling a hot sally of the besieged upon our 
 men at work in the trenches, who had given way, 
 the two officers found themselves hurrying forward 
 face to face, against a party of French infantry, who 
 made a stand. There was an officer at their head, 
 encouraging his men, a courageous, handsome, 
 gallant officer, of five-and-thirty, whom Doubledick 
 saw hurriedly, almost momentarily, but saw well. 
 He particularly noticed this officer waving his sword, 
 and rallying his men with an eager and excited cry, 
 when they fired in obedience to his gesture, and 
 Major Taunton dropped. 
 
 It was over in ten minutes more, and Doubledick 
 returned to the spot where he had laid the best 
 friend man ever had, on a coat spread upon the wet 
 clay. Major Taun ton's uniform was opened at the 
 breast, and on his shirt were three little spots of 
 blood. 
 
 "Dear Doubledick," said he, "I am dying." 
 
 "For the love of Heaven, no!" exclaimed the 
 other, kneeling down beside him, and passing his 
 arm round his neck to raise his head. "Taunton! 
 My preserver, my guardian angel, my witness! 
 
174 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Dearest, truest, kindest of human beings! Taunton! 
 For God's sake!" 
 
 The bright, dark eyes so very, very dark now, 
 in the pale face smiled upon him; and the hand 
 he had kissed thirteen years ago laid itself fondly 
 on his breast. 
 
 "Write to my mother. You will see Home again. 
 Tell her how we became friends. It will comfort 
 her, as it comforts me." 
 
 He spoke no more, but faintly signed for a moment 
 towards his hair as it fluttered in the wind. The 
 Ensign understood him. He smiled again when he 
 saw that, and, gently turning his face over on the 
 supporting arm as if for rest, died, with his hand 
 upon the breast in which he had revived a soul. 
 
 No dry eye looked on Ensign Richard Doubledick 
 that melancholy day. He buried his friend on the 
 field, and became a lone, bereaved man. Beyond 
 his duty he appeared to have but two remaining 
 cares in life, one, to preserve the little packet of 
 hair he was to give to Taun ton's mother; the other, 
 to encounter that French officer who had rallied 
 the men under whose fire Taunton fell. A new 
 legend now began to circulate among our troops; 
 and it was, that when he and the French officer 
 came face to face once more, there would be weeping 
 in France. 
 
 The war went on and through it went the 
 
THE STORY OF RICHARD DOUBLEDICK 175 
 
 exact picture of the French officer on the one side, 
 and the bodily reality upon the other until the 
 battle of Toulouse was fought. In the returns sent 
 home appeared these words: "Severely wounded, 
 but not dangerously, Lieutenant Richard Double- 
 dick." 
 
 At Midsummer-time, in the year eighteen hun- 
 dred and fourteen, Lieutenant Richard Doubledick, 
 now a browned soldier, seven-and-thirty years of 
 age, came home to England invalided. He brought 
 the hair with him, near his heart. Many a French 
 officer had he seen since that day; many a dreadful 
 night, in searching with men and lanterns for his 
 wounded, had he relieved French officers lying 
 disabled; but the mental picture and the reality 
 had never come together. 
 
 Though he was weak and suffered pain, he lost 
 not an hour in getting down to Frome in Somer- 
 setshire, where Taunton's mother lived. In the 
 sweet, compassionate words that naturally present 
 themselves to the mind to-night, "he was the only 
 son of his mother, and she was a widow." 
 
 It was a Sunday evening, and the lady sat at her 
 quiet garden- window, reading the Bible; reading to 
 herself, in a trembling voice, that very passage in it, 
 as I have heard him tell. He heard the words: 
 "Young man, I say unto thee, arise!" 
 
 He had to pass the window; and the bright. 
 
176 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 dark eyes of his debased time seemed to look at him. 
 Her heart told her who he was; she came to the 
 door quickly, and fell upon his neck. 
 
 "He saved me from ruin, made me a human 
 creature, won me from infamy and shame. O, God 
 forever bless him! As He will, He will!" 
 
 "He will!" the lady answered. "I know he is in 
 Heaven!" Then she piteously cried, "But O, my 
 darling boy, my darling boy!" 
 
 Never from the hour when Private Richard 
 Doubledick enlisted at Chatham had the Private, 
 Corporal, Sergeant, Sergeant-Major, Ensign, or 
 Lieutenant breathed his right name, or the name of 
 Mary Marshall, or a word of the story of his life, 
 into any ear except his reclaimer's. That previous 
 scene in his existence was closed. He had firmly 
 resolved that his expiation should be to live un- 
 known ; to disturb no more the peace that had long 
 grown over his old offences; to let it be revealed 
 when he was dead, that he had striven and suffered, 
 and had never forgotten; and then, if they could 
 forgive him and believe him well, it would be 
 time enough time enough! 
 
 But that night, remembering the words he had 
 cherished for two years, "Tell her how we became 
 friends. It will comfort her, as it comforts me," he 
 related everything. It gradually seemed to him as 
 if in his maturity he had recovered a mother; it 
 
THE STORY OF RICHARD DOUBLEDICK 177 
 
 gradually seemed to her as if in her bereavement 
 she had found a son. During his stay in England, 
 the quiet garden into which he had slowly and pain- 
 fully crept, a stranger, became the boundary of his 
 home; when he was able to rejoin his regiment in 
 the spring, he left the garden, thinking was this 
 indeed the first time he had ever turned his face 
 towards the old colors with a woman's blessing! 
 
 He followed them so ragged, so scarred and 
 pierced now, that they would scarcely hold together 
 to Quatre Bras and Ligny. He stood beside 
 them, in an awful stillness of many men, shadowy 
 through the mist and drizzle of a wet June forenoon, 
 on the field of Waterloo. And down to that hour 
 the picture in his mind of the French officer had 
 never been compared with the reality. 
 
 The famous regiment was in action early in the 
 battle, and received its first check in many an 
 eventful year, when he was seen to fall. But it 
 swept on to avenge him, and left behind it no such 
 creature in the world of consciousness as Lieutenant 
 Richard Doubledick. 
 
 Through pits of mire, and pools of rain; along 
 deep ditches, once roads, that were pounded and 
 ploughed to pieces by artillery, heavy wagons, 
 tramp of men and horses, and the struggle of every 
 wheeled thing that could carry wounded soldiers; 
 jolted among the dying and the dead, so disfigured 
 
178 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 by blood and mud as to be hardly recognizable for 
 humanity; undisturbed by the moaning of men and 
 the shrieking of horses, which, newly taken from the 
 peaceful pursuits of life, could not endure the sight 
 of the stragglers lying by the wayside, never to 
 resume their toilsome journey; dead, as to any 
 sentient life that was in it, and yet alive, the form 
 that had been Lieutenant Richard Doubledick, with 
 whose praises England rang, was conveyed to 
 Brussels. There it was tenderly laid down in hos- 
 pital; and there it lay, week after week, through the 
 long bright summer days, until the harvest, spared 
 by war, had ripened and was gathered in. 
 
 Over and over again the sun rose and set upon the 
 crowded city; over and over again the moonlight 
 nights were quiet on the plains of Waterloo: and all 
 that time was a blank to what had been Lieutenant 
 Richard Doubledick. Rejoicing troops marched 
 into Brussels, and marched out; brothers and 
 fathers, sisters, mothers, and wives, came thronging 
 thither, drew their lots of joy or agony, and de- 
 parted; so many times a day the bells rang: so 
 many times the shadows of the great buildings 
 changed; so many lights sprang up at dusk; so 
 many feet passed here and there upon the pave- 
 ments; so many hours of sleep and cooler air of 
 night succeeded: indifferent to all, a marble face 
 lay on a bed, like the face of a recumbent statue on 
 the tomb of Lieutenant Richard Doubledick. 
 
THE STORY OF RICHARD DOUBLEDICK 
 
 179 
 
 Slowly laboring, at last, through a long heavy 
 dream of confused time and place, presenting faint 
 glimpses of army surgeons whom he knew, and of 
 faces that had been familiar to his youth, dearest 
 and kindest among them, Mary Marshall's, with a 
 solicitude upon it more like reality than anything 
 he could discern, Lieutenant Richard Doubledick 
 came back to life. To the beautiful life of a calm 
 autumn evening sunset, to the peaceful life of a 
 fresh quiet room with a large window standing open ; 
 a balcony beyond, in which were moving leaves and 
 sweet-smelling flowers; beyond, again, the clear 
 sky, with the sun full in his sight, pouring its golden 
 radiance on his bed. 
 
 It was so tranquil and so lovely that he thought 
 he had passed into another world. And he said in a 
 faint voice, "Taunton, are you near me?" 
 
 A face bent over him. Not his, his mother's. 
 
 "I came to nurse you. We have nursed you 
 many weeks. You were moved here long ago. Do 
 you remember nothing?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 The lady kissed his cheek, and held his hand, 
 soothing him. 
 
 "Where is .the regiment? What has happened? 
 Let me call you mother. What has happened, 
 mother?" 
 
 " A great victory, dear. The war is over, and the 
 regiment was the bravest in the field." 
 
!8o BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 His eyes kindled, his lips trembled, he sobbed, and 
 the tears ran down his face. He was very weak, too 
 weak to move his hand. 
 
 "Was it dark just now?" he asked presently. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "It was only dark to me. Something passed 
 away, like a black shadow. But as it went, and the 
 sun O the blessed sun, how beautiful it is! 
 touched my face, I thought I saw a light white 
 cloud pass out at the door. Was there nothing that 
 went out?" 
 
 She shook her head, and in a little while he fell 
 asleep, she still holding his hand, and soothing him. 
 
 From that time, he recovered. Slowly, for he had 
 been desperately wounded in the head, and had 
 been shot in the body, but making some little ad- 
 vance every day. When he had gained sufficient 
 strength to converse as he lay in bed, he soon began 
 to remark that Mrs. Taunton always brought him 
 back to his own history. Then he recalled his 
 preserver's dying words, and thought, "It comforts 
 her." 
 
 One day he awoke out of a sleep, refreshed, and 
 asked her to read to him. But the curtain of the 
 bed, softening the light, which she always drew 
 back when he awoke, that she might see him from 
 her table at the bedside where she sat at work, was 
 held undrawn; and a woman's voice spoke, which 
 was not hers. 
 
THE STORY OF RICHARD DOUBLEDICK 181 
 
 "Can you bear to see a stranger?" it said softly. 
 "Will you like to see a stranger?" 
 
 "Stranger!" he repeated. The voice awoke old 
 memories, before the days of Private Richard 
 Doubledick. 
 
 "A stranger now, but not a stranger once," it 
 said in tones that thrilled him. "Richard, dear 
 Richard, lost through so many years, my name 
 
 He cried out her name, "Mary," and she held 
 him in her arms, and his head lay on her bosom. 
 
 "I am not breaking a rash vow, Richard. These 
 are not Mary Marshall's lips that speak. I have 
 another name." 
 
 She was married. 
 
 "I have another name, Richard. Did you ever 
 hear it?" 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 He looked into her face, so pensively beautiful, 
 and wondered at the smile upon it through her tears. 
 
 "Think again, Richard. Are you sure you never 
 heard my altered name?" 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 "Don't move your head to look at me, dear 
 Richard. Let it lie here, while I tell my story. I 
 loved a generous, noble man; loved him with my 
 whole heart; loved him for years and years; loved 
 him faithfully, devotedly; loved him with no hope 
 of return; loved him, knowing nothing of his highest 
 
182 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 qualities not even knowing that he was alive. 
 He was a brave soldier. He was honored and 
 beloved by thousands of thousands, when the mother 
 of his dear friend found me, and showed me that in 
 all his triumphs he had never forgotten me. He was 
 wounded in a great battle. He was brought, dying, 
 here to Brussels. I came to watch and tend him, 
 as I would have joyfully gone with such a purpose, 
 to the dreariest ends of the earth. When he knew 
 no one else, he knew me. When he suffered most, 
 he bore his sufferings barely murmuring, content 
 to rest his head where yours rests now. When he 
 lay at the point of death he married me, that he 
 might call me Wife before he died. And the name, 
 my dear love, that I took on that forgotten night " 
 
 "I know it now!" he sobbed. "The shadowy 
 remembrance strengthens. It is come back. I 
 thank Heaven that my mind is quite restored ! My 
 Mary, kiss me; lull this weary head to rest, or I 
 shall die of gratitude. His parting words were ful- 
 filled. I see Home again!" 
 
 Well! they were happy. It was a long recovery, 
 but they were happy through it all. The snow had 
 melted on the ground, and the birds were singing in 
 the leafless thickets of the early spring, when those 
 three were first able to ride out together, and when 
 people flocked about the open carriage to cheer and 
 congratulate Captain Richard Doubledick. 
 
THE STORY OF RICHARD DOUBLEDICK 183 
 
 But even then it became necessary for the Cap- 
 tain, instead of returning to England, to complete 
 his recovery in the climate of Southern France. 
 They found a spot upon the Rhone, within a ride of 
 the old town of Avignon, and within view of its 
 broken bridge, which was all they could desire; 
 they lived there, together, six months; then returned 
 to England. Mrs. Taunton, growing old after three 
 years though not so old as that her bright, dark 
 eyes were dimmed and remembering that her 
 strength had been benefited by the change, resolved 
 to go back for a year to those parts. So she went 
 with a faithful servant, who had often carried her 
 son in his arms; and she was to be rejoined and 
 escorted home, at the year's end, by Captain 
 Richard Doubledick. 
 
 She wrote regularly to her children (as she called 
 them now), and they to her. She went to the 
 neighborhood of Aix; and there, in their own 
 chateau near the farmer's house she rented, she 
 grew into intimacy with a family belonging to that 
 part of France. The intimacy began in her often 
 meeting among the vineyards a pretty child, a girl 
 with a most compassionate heart, who was never 
 tired of listening to the solitary English lady's stories 
 of her poor son and the cruel wars. The family were 
 as gentle as the child, and at length she came to 
 know them so well that she accepted their invita- 
 
184 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 tion to pass the last month of her residence abroad 
 under their roof. All this intelligence she wrote 
 home, piecemeal as it came about, from time to 
 time; and at last enclosed a polite note, from the 
 head of the chateau, soliciting, on the occasion of 
 his approaching mission to that neighborhood, the 
 honor of the company of cet homme si justement 
 celebre, Monsieur le Capitaine Richard Doubledick. 
 
 Captain Doubledick, now a hardy, handsome man 
 in the full vigor of life, broader across the chest and 
 shoulders than he -had ever been before, dispatched 
 a courteous reply, and followed it in person. Travel- 
 ling through all that extent of country after three 
 years of Peace, he blessed the better days on which 
 the world had fallen. The corn was golden, not 
 drenched in unnatural red; was bound in sheaves 
 for food, not trodden underfoot by men in mortal 
 fight. The smoke rose up from peaceful hearths, 
 not blazing ruins. The carts were laden with the 
 fair fruits of the earth, not with wounds and death. 
 To him who had so often seen the terrible reverse, 
 these things were beautiful indeed; and they 
 brought him in a softened spirit to the old chateau 
 near Aix upon a deep blue evening. 
 
 It was a large chateau of the genuine old ghostly 
 kind, with round towers, and extinguishers, and a 
 high leaden roof, and more windows than Aladdin's 
 Palace. The lattice blinds were all thrown open 
 
THE STORY OF RICHARD DOUBLEDICK 185 
 
 after the heat of the day, and there were glimpses 
 of rambling walls and corridors within. Then there 
 were immense out-buildings fallen into partial 
 decay, masses of dark trees, terrace-gardens, 
 balustrades; tanks of water, too weak to play and 
 too dirty to work; statues, weeds, and thickets of 
 iron railing that seemed to have overgrown them- 
 selves like the shrubberies, and to have branched 
 out in all manner of wild shapes. The entrance 
 doors stood open, as doors often do in that country 
 when the heat of the day is past; and the Captain 
 saw no bell or knocker, and walked in. 
 
 He walked into a lofty stone hall, refreshingly cool 
 and gloomy after the glare of a Southern day's 
 travel. Extending along the four sides of this hall 
 was a gallery, leading to suites of rooms; and it was 
 lighted from the top. Still no bell was to be seen. 
 
 " Faith," said the Captain halting, ashamed of 
 the clanking of his boots, "this is a ghostly be- 
 ginning!" 
 
 He started back, and felt his face turn white. In 
 the gallery, looking down at him, stood the French 
 officer the officer whose picture he had carried 
 in his mind so long and so far. Compared with the 
 original, at last in every lineament how like it 
 was! 
 
 He moved and disappeared, and Captain Richard 
 Doubledick heard his steps coming quickly down 
 
1 86 BEST ENGLISH [TALES 
 
 into the hall. He entered through an archway. 
 There was a bright, sudden look upon his face, much 
 such a look as it had worn in that fatal moment. 
 
 Monsieur le Capitaine Richard Doubledick? 
 Enchanted to receive him! A thousand apologies! 
 The servants were all out in the air. There was a 
 little fete among them in the garden. In effect, it 
 was the fete day of my daughter, the little cherished 
 and protected of Madame Taunton. 
 
 He was so gracious and so frank that Monsieur 
 le Capitaine Richard Doubledick could not with- 
 hold his hand. "It is the hand of a brave English- 
 man," said the French officer, retaining it while he 
 spoke. "I could respect a brave Englishman, even 
 as my foe, how much more as my friend ! I also am a 
 soldier." 
 
 "He has not remembered me, as I have remem- 
 bered him; he did not take such note of my face, 
 that day, as I took of his," thought Captain Richard 
 Doubledick. "How shall I tell him?" 
 
 The French officer conducted his guest into a 
 garden and presented him to his wife, an engaging 
 and beautiful woman, sitting with Mrs. Taunton 
 in a whimsical old-fashioned pavilion. His daughter, 
 her fair young face beaming with joy, came running 
 to embrace him; and there was a boy-baby to 
 tumble down among the orange trees on the broad 
 steps, in making for his father's legs. A multitude 
 
THE STORY OF RICHARD DOUBLEDICK 187 
 
 of children visitors were dancing to sprightly music; 
 and all the servants and peasants about the chateau 
 were dancing too. It was a scene of innocent happi- 
 ness that might have been invented for the climax 
 of the scenes of peace which had soothed the Cap- 
 tain's journey. 
 
 He looked on, greatly troubled in his mind, until 
 a resounding bell rang, and the French officer begged 
 to show him his rooms. They went upstairs into the 
 gallery from which the officer had looked down; 
 and Monsieur le Capitaine Richard Doubledick was 
 cordially welcomed to a grand outer chamber, and a 
 smaller one within, all clocks and draperies, and 
 hearths, and brazen dogs, and tiles, and cool devices, 
 and elegance, and vastness. 
 
 "You were at Waterloo," said the French officer. 
 
 "I was," said Captain Richard Doubledick. 
 "And at Badajos." 
 
 Left alone with the sound of his own stern voice 
 in his ears, he sat down to consider, What shall I do, 
 and how shall I tell him. At that time, unhappily, 
 many deplorable duels had been fought between 
 English and French officers, arising out of the recent 
 war; and these duels, and how to avoid this officer's 
 hospitality, were the uppermost thought in Captain 
 Richard Doubleclick's mind. 
 
 He was thinking, and letting the time run out in 
 which he should have dressed for dinner, when Mrs. 
 
1 88 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Taunton spoke to him outside the door, asking if he 
 could give her the letter he had brought from Mary. 
 ''His mother, above all," the Captain thought. 
 " How shall I tell her?" 
 
 "You will form a friendship with your host, I 
 hope," said Mrs. Taunton, whom he hurriedly ad- 
 mitted, " that will last for life. He is so true-hearted 
 and so generous, Richard, that you can hardly fail 
 to esteem one another. If He had been spared," 
 she kissed (not without tears) the locket in which she 
 wore his hair, "he would have appreciated him with 
 his own magnanimity, and would have been truly 
 happy that the evil days were past which made such 
 a man his enemy." 
 
 She left the room; and the Captain walked, first 
 to one window, whence he could see the dancing in 
 the garden, then to another window, whence he 
 could see the smiling prospect and the peaceful vine- 
 yards. 
 
 "Spirit of my departed friend," said he, "is it 
 through thee these better thoughts are rising in my 
 mind? Is it thou who hast shown me, all the way 
 I have been drawn to meet this man, the blessings of 
 the altered time? Is it thou who has sent thy 
 stricken mother to me, to stay my angry hand? 
 Is it from thee the whisper comes, that this man 
 did his duty as thou didst, and as I did, through 
 thy guidance, which has wholly saved me here on 
 earth, and that he did no more?" 
 
THE STORY OF RICHARD DOUBLEDICK 189 
 
 He sat down with his head buried in his hands, 
 and, when he rose up, made the second strong reso- 
 lution of his life, that neither to the French 
 officer, nor to the mother of his departed friend, nor 
 to any soul, while either of the two was living, 
 would he breathe what only he knew. And when he 
 touched that French officer's glass with his own, 
 that day at dinner, he secretly forgave him in the 
 name of the Divine Forgiver of injuries. 
 
THE HALF-BROTHERS 
 BY MRS. GASKELL 
 
THE HALF-BROTHERS 
 
 MY mother was twice married. She never spoke 
 of her first husband, and it is only from other people 
 that I have learnt what little I know about him. I 
 believe she was scarcely seventeen when she was 
 married to him: and he was barely one-and-twenty. 
 He rented a small farm up in Cumberland, some- 
 where towards the sea-coast; but he was perhaps 
 too young and inexperienced to have the charge of 
 land and cattle: anyhow, his affairs did not prosper, 
 and he fell into ill health, and died of consumption 
 before they had been three years man and wife, 
 leaving my mother, a young widow of twenty, with 
 a little child only just able to walk, and the farm on 
 her hands for four years more by the lease, with 
 half the stock on it dead, or sold off one by one to 
 pay the more pressing debts, and with no money to 
 purchase more, or even to buy the provisions needed 
 for the small consumption of every day. There was 
 another child coming, too; and sad and sorry, I 
 believe, she was to think of it. A dreary winter she 
 must have had in her lonesome dwelling with never 
 another near it for miles around; her sister came to 
 bear her company, and they two planned and plotted 
 how to make every penny they could raise go as far 
 193 
 
194 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 as possible. I can't tell you how it happened that 
 my little sister, whom I never saw, came to sicken 
 and die; but, as if my poor mother's cup was not 
 full enough, only a fortnight before Gregory was 
 born the little girl took ill of scarlet fever, and in a 
 week she lay dead. My mother was, I believe, just 
 stunned with this last blow. My aunt has told me 
 that she did not cry; aunt Fanny would have been 
 thankful if she had; but she sat holding the poor 
 wee lassie's hand, and looking in her pretty, pale, 
 dead face, without so much as shedding a tear. And 
 it was all the same, when they had to take her away 
 to be buried. She just kissed the child, and sat her 
 down in the window-seat to watch the little black 
 train of people (neighbors my aunt, and one far- 
 off cousin, who were all the friends they could 
 muster) go winding away amongst the snow, which 
 had fallen thinly over the country the night before. 
 When my aunt came back from the funeral, she 
 found my mother in the same place, and as dry-eyed 
 as ever. So she continued until after Gregory was 
 born; and, somehow, his coming seemed to loosen 
 the tears, and she cried day and night, till my aunt 
 and the other watcher looked at each other in dis- 
 may, and would fain have stopped her if they had 
 but known how. But she bade them let her alone, 
 and not be over-anxious, for every drop she shed 
 eased her brain, which had been in a terrible state 
 
THE HALF-BROTHERS 195 
 
 before for want of the power to cry. She seemed 
 after that to think of nothing but her new little 
 baby; she had hardly appeared to remember either 
 her husband or her little daughter that lay dead in 
 Brigham churchyard at least so aunt Fanny said; 
 but she was a great talker, and my mother was very 
 silent by nature, and I think aunt Fanny may have 
 been mistaken in believing that my mother never 
 thought of her husband and child just because she 
 never spoke about them. Aunt Fanny was older 
 than my mother, and had a way of treating her like 
 a child; but, for all that, she was a kind, warm- 
 hearted creature, who thought more of her sister's 
 welfare than she did of her own; and it was on her 
 bit of money that they principally lived, and on 
 what the two could earn by working for the great 
 Glasgow sewing-merchants. But by-and-by my 
 mother's eyesight began to fail. It was not that she 
 was exactly blind, for she could see well enough to 
 guide herself about the house, and to do a good deal 
 of domestic work; but she could no longer do fine 
 sewing and earn money. It must have been with 
 the heavy crying she had had in her day, for she was 
 but a young creature at this time, and as pretty a 
 young woman, I have heard people say, as any on 
 the country side. She took it sadly to heart that 
 she could no longer gain anything towards the keep 
 of herself and her child. My aunt Fanny would fain 
 
196 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 have persuaded her that she had enough to do in 
 managing their cottage and minding Gregory; but 
 my mother knew that they were pinched, and that 
 aunt Fanny herself had not as much to eat, even of 
 the commonest kind of food, as she could have done 
 with; and as for Greogry, he was not a strong lad 
 and needed, not more food for he always had 
 enough, whoever went short but better nourish- 
 ment, and more flesh meat. One day it was aunt 
 Fanny who told me all this about my poor mother, 
 long after her death as the sisters were sitting 
 together, aunt Fanny working, and my mother 
 hushing Gregory to sleep, William Preston, who was 
 afterwards my father, came in. He was reckoned 
 an old bachelor; I suppose he was long past forty, 
 and he was one of the wealthiest farmers there- 
 abouts, and had known my grandfather well, and 
 my mother and my aunt in their more prosperous 
 days. He sat down, and began to twirl his hat by 
 way of being agreeable; my aunt Fanny talked, and 
 he listened and looked at my mother. But he said 
 very little, either on that visit, or on many another 
 that he paid before he spoke out what had been the 
 real purpose of his calling so often all along, and 
 from the very first time he came to their house. One 
 Sunday, however, my aunt Fanny stayed away from 
 church, and took care of the child, and my mother 
 went alone. When she came back, she ran straight 
 
THE HALF-BROTHERS 197 
 
 upstairs, without going into the kitchen to look at 
 Gregory or speak any word to her sister, and aunt 
 Fanny heard her cry as if her heart was breaking; 
 so she went up and scolded her right well through 
 the bolted door, till at last she got her to open it. 
 And then she threw herself on my aunt's neck, and 
 told her that William Preston had asked her to 
 marry him, and had promised to take good charge of 
 her boy, and to let him want for nothing, neither in 
 the way of keep nor of education, and that she had 
 consented. Aunt Fanny was a good deal shocked at 
 this; for as I have said, she had often thought that 
 my mother had forgotten her first husband very 
 quickly, and now here was proof positive of it, if she 
 could so soon think of marrying again. Besides, as 
 aunt Fanny used to say, she herself would have been 
 a far more suitable match for a man of William 
 Preston's age than Helen, who, though she was a 
 widow, had not seen her four-and-twentieth summer. 
 However, as aunt Fanny said, they had not asked 
 her advice; and there was much to be said on the 
 other side of the question. Helen's eyesight would 
 never be good for much again, and as William 
 Preston's wife she would never need to do anything, 
 if she chose to sit with her hands before her; and a 
 boy was a great charge to a widowed mother; and 
 now there would be a decent steady man to see after 
 him. So, by-and-by, aunt Fanny seemed to take a 
 
198 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 brighter view of the marriage than did my mother 
 herself, who hardly ever looked up, and never smiled 
 after the day when she promised William Preston to 
 be his wife. But much as she had loved Gregory 
 before, she seemed to love him more now. She was 
 continually talking to him when they were alone, 
 though he was far too young to understand her 
 moaning words, or give her any comfort, except by 
 his caresses. 
 
 At last William Preston and she were wed; and 
 she went to be mistress of a well-stocked house, not 
 above half-an-hour's walk from where aunt Fanny 
 lived. I believe she did all that she could to please 
 my father; and a more dutiful wife, I have heard 
 him himself say, could never have been. But she 
 did not love him, and he soon found it out. She 
 loved Gregory, and she did not love him. Perhaps, 
 love would have come in time, if he had been 
 patient enough to wait; but it just turned him sour 
 to see how her eye brightened and her color came at 
 the sight of that little child, while for him who had 
 given her so much she had only gentle words as cold 
 as ice. He got to taunt her with the difference in 
 her manner, as if that would bring love: and he 
 took a positive dislike to Gregory, he was so 
 jealous of the ready love that always gushed out like 
 a spring of fresh water when he came near. He 
 wanted her to love him more, and perhaps that was 
 
THE HALF-BROTHERS 199 
 
 all well and good; but he wanted her to love her 
 childless, and that was an evil wish. One day, he 
 gave way to his temper, and cursed and swore at 
 Gregory, who had got into some mischief, as children 
 will; my mother made some excuse for him; my 
 father said it was hard enough to have to keep 
 another man's child, without having it perpetually 
 held up in its naughtiness by his wife, who ought to 
 be always in the same mind as he was; and so from 
 little they got to more; and the end of it was, that 
 my mother took to her bed before her time, and I 
 was born that very day. My father was glad, and 
 proud, and sorry, all in a breath; glad and proud 
 that a son was born to him; and sorry for his poor 
 wife's state, and to think how his angry words had 
 brought it on. But he was a man who liked better 
 to be angry than sorry, so he soon found out that it 
 was all Gregory's fault, and owed him an additional 
 grudge for having hastened my birth. He had 
 another grudge against him before long. My 
 mother began to sink the day after I was born. My 
 fathei sent to Carlisle for doctors, and would have 
 coined his heart's blood into gold to save her, if that 
 could have been ; but it could not. My aunt Fanny 
 used to say sometimes, that she thought that Helen 
 did not wish to live, and so just let herself die away 
 without trying to take hold on life; but when I 
 questioned her, she owned that my mother did all 
 
200 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 the doctors bade her do, with the same sort of un- 
 complaining patience with which she had acted 
 through life. One of her last requests was to have 
 Gregory laid in her bed by my side, and then she 
 made him take hold of my little hand. Her husband 
 came in while she was looking at us so, and when he 
 bent tenderly over her to ask her how she felt now, 
 and seemed to gaze on us two little half-brothers, 
 with a grave sort of kindliness, she looked up in his 
 face and smiled, almost her first smile at him; and 
 such a sweet smile! as more besides aunt Fanny 
 have said. In an hour she was dead. Aunt Fanny 
 came to live with us. It was the best thing that 
 could be done. My father would have been glad to 
 return to his old mode of bachelor life, but what 
 could he do with two little children? He needed a 
 woman to take care of him, and who so fitting as his 
 wife's elder sister? So she had the charge of me 
 from my birth; and for a time I was weakly, as was 
 but natural, and she was always beside me, night 
 and day watching over me, and my father nearly as 
 anxious as she. For his land had come down from 
 father to son for more than three hundred years, and 
 he would have cared for me merely as his flesh and 
 blood that was to inherit the land after him. But he 
 needed something to love, for all that, to most 
 people, he was a stern, hard man, and he took to me 
 as, I fancy, he had taken to no human being before 
 
THE HALF-BROTHERS 2OI 
 
 as he might have taken to my mother, if she had 
 no former life for him to be jealous of. I loved him 
 back again right heartily. I loved all around me, 
 I believe, for everybody was kind to me. After a 
 time, I overcame my original weakliness of consti- 
 tution, and was just a bonny, strong-looking lad 
 whom every passer-by noticed, when my father took 
 me with him to the nearest town. 
 
 At home I was the darling of my aunt, the ten- 
 derly-beloved of my father, the pet and plaything 
 of the old domestics, the "young master" of the 
 farm-laborers, before whom I played many a lordly 
 antic, assuming a sort of authority which sat oddly 
 enough, I doubt not, on such a baby as I was. 
 
 Gregory was three years older than I. Aunt 
 Fanny was always kind to him in deed and in action, 
 but she did not often think about him, she had 
 fallen so completely into the habit of being engrossed 
 by me, from the fact of my having come into her 
 charge as a delicate baby. My father never got over 
 his grudging dislike to his step-son, who had so inno- 
 cently wrestled with him for the possession of my 
 mother's heart. I mistrust me, too, that my father 
 always considered him as the cause of my mother's 
 death and my early delicacy; and utterly unreason- 
 able as this may seem, I believe my father rather 
 cherished his feeling of alienation to my brother as a 
 duty, than strove to repress it. Yet not for the 
 
202 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 world would my father have grudged him anything 
 that money could purchase. That was, as it were, 
 in the bond when he had wedded my mother. 
 Gregory was lumpish and loutish, awkward and 
 ungainly, marring whatever he meddled in, and 
 many a hard word and sharp scolding did he get 
 from the people about the farm, who hardly waited 
 till my father's back was turned before they rated 
 the step-son. I am ashamed my heart is sore to 
 think how I fell into the fashion of the family, and 
 slighted my poor orphan step-brother. I don't 
 think I ever scouted him, or.was wilfully ill-natured 
 to him; but the habit of being considered in all 
 things, and being treated as something uncommon 
 and superior, made me insolent in my prosperity, 
 and I exacted more than Gregory was always willing 
 to grant, and then, irritated, I sometimes repeated 
 the disparaging words I had heard others use with 
 regard to him, without fully understanding their 
 meaning. Whether he did or not I cannot tell. I 
 am afraid he did. He used to turn silent and quiet 
 sullen and sulky, my father thought it: stupid, 
 aunt Fanny used to call it. But every one said he 
 was stupid and dull, and this stupidity and dulness 
 grew upon him. He would sit without speaking a 
 word, sometimes, for hours; then my father would 
 bid him rise and do some piece of work, may be, 
 about the farm. And he would take three or four 
 
THE HALF-BROTHERS 203 
 
 tellings before he would go. When we were sent to 
 school, it was all the same. He could never be made 
 to remember his lessons; the schoolmaster grew 
 weary of scolding and flogging, and at last advised 
 my father just to take him away, and set him to 
 some farm-work that might not be above his ^com- 
 prehension. I think he was more gloomy and stupid 
 than ever after this, yet he was not a cross lad; he 
 was patient and good-natured, and would try to do 
 a kind turn for any one, even if they had been 
 scolding or cuffing him not a minute before. But 
 very often his attempts at kindness ended in some 
 mischief to the very people he was trying to serve, 
 owing to his awkward, ungainly ways. I suppose I 
 was a clever lad; at any rate, I always got plenty of 
 praise; and was, as we called it, the cock of the 
 school. The schoolmaster said I could learn any- 
 thing I chose, but my father, who had no great 
 learning himself, saw little use in much for me, and 
 took me away betimes, and kept me with him about 
 the farm. Gregory was made into a kind of shep- 
 herd, receiving his training under old Adam, who was 
 nearly past his work. I think old Adam was almost 
 the first person who had a good opinion of Gregory. 
 He stood to it that my brother had good parts, 
 though he did not rightly know how to bring them 
 out; and, for knowing the bearings of the Fells, he 
 said he had never seen a lad like him. My father 
 
204 B ST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 would try to bring Adam round to speak of Gregory's 
 faults and shortcomings; but, instead of that, he 
 would praise him twice as much, as soon as he found 
 out what was my father's object. 
 
 One winter-time, when I was about sixteen, and 
 Gregory nineteen, I was sent by my father on an 
 errand to a place about seven miles distant by the 
 road, but only about four by the Fells. He bade me 
 return by the road whichever way I took in going, 
 for the evenings closed in early, and were often thick 
 and misty; besides which, old Adam, now paralytic 
 and bedridden, foretold a downfall of snow before 
 long. I soon got to my journey's end, and soon had 
 done my business; earlier by an hour, I thought, 
 than my father had expected, so I took the decision 
 of the way by which I would return into my own 
 hands, and set off back again over the Fells, just as 
 the first shades of evening began to fall. It looked 
 dark and gloomy enough; but everything was so 
 still that I thought I should have plenty of time to 
 get home before the snow came down. Off I set at 
 a pretty quick pace. But night came on quicker. 
 The right path was clear enough in the daytime, 
 although at several points two or three exactly 
 similar diverged from the same place; but when 
 there was a good light, the traveller was guided by 
 the sight of distant objects, a piece of rock, a 
 fall in the ground which were quite invisible to 
 
THE HALF-BROTHERS 205 
 
 . 
 
 me now. I plucked up a brave heart, however, and 
 took what seemed to me the right road. It was 
 wrong, nevertheless, and led me whither I knew 
 not, but to some wild boggy moor where the solitude 
 seemed painful, intense, as if never footfall of man 
 had come thither to break the silence. I tried to 
 shout with the dimmest possible hope of being 
 heard rather to reassure myself by the sound of 
 my own voice; but my voice came husky and short, 
 and yet it dismayed me; it seemed so weird and 
 strange, in that noiseless expanse of black darkness. 
 Suddenly the air was filled thick with dusky flakes, 
 my face and hands were wet with snow. It cut me 
 off from the slightest knowledge of where I was, 
 for I lost every idea of the direction from which I 
 had come, so that I could not even retrace my steps; 
 it hemmed me in, thicker, thicker, with a darkness 
 that might be felt. The boggy soil on which I stood 
 quaked under me if I remained long in one place, and 
 yet I dared not move far. All my youthful hardiness 
 seemed to leave me at once. I was on the point of 
 crying, and only very shame seemed to keep it down. 
 To save myself from shedding tears, I shouted - 
 terrible, wild shouts for bare life they were. I 
 turned sick as I paused to listen; no answering 
 sound came but the unfeeling echoes. Only the 
 noiseless, pitiless snow kept falling thicker, thicker 
 faster, faster! I was growing numb and sleepy. 
 
206 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 I tried to move about, but I dared not go far, for 
 fear of the precipices which, I knew, abounded in 
 certain places on the Fells. Now and then, I stood 
 still and shouted again; but my voice was getting 
 choked with tears, as I thought of the desolate help- 
 less death I was to die, and how little they at home, 
 sitting round the warm, red, bright fire, wotted what 
 was become of me, and how my poor father would 
 grieve for me it would surely kill him it would 
 break his heart, poor old man! Aunt Fanny too 
 was this to be the end of all her cares for me? I 
 began to review my life in a strange kind of vivid 
 dream, in which the various scenes of my few boyish 
 years passed before me like visions. In a pang of 
 agony, caused by such remembrance of my short 
 life, I gathered up my strength and called out once 
 more, a long, despairing, wailing cry, to which I had 
 no hope of obtaining any answer, save from the 
 echoes around, dulled as the sound might be by the 
 thickened air. To my surprise I heard a cry 
 almost as long, as wild as mine so wild, that it 
 seemed unearthly, and I almost thought it must be 
 the voice of some of the mocking spirits of the Fells, 
 about whom I had heard so many tales. My heart 
 suddenly began to beat fast and loud. I could not 
 reply for a minute or two. I nearly fancied I had 
 lost the power of utterance. Just at this moment a 
 dog barked. Was it Lassie's bark my brother's 
 
THE HALF-BROTHERS 207 
 
 collie? an ugly enough brute, with a white, ill- 
 looking face, that my father always kicked whenever 
 he saw it, partly for its own demerits, partly because 
 it belonged to my brother. On such occasions, 
 Gregory would whistle Lassie away, and go off and 
 sit with her in some outhouse. My father had once 
 or twice been ashamed of himself, when the poor 
 collie had yowled out with the suddenness of the 
 pain, and had relieved himself of his self-reproach 
 by blaming my brother, who, he said, had no notion 
 of training a dog, and was enough to ruin any collie 
 in Christendom with his stupid way of allowing them 
 to lie by the kitchen fire. To all which Gregory 
 would answer nothing, nor even seem to hear, but 
 go on looking absent and moody. 
 
 Yes! there again! It was Lassie's bark! Now or 
 never! I lifted up my voice and shouted "Lassie! 
 Lassie! for God's sake, Lassie!" Another moment, 
 and the great white-faced Lassie was curving and 
 gambolling with delight round my feet and legs, 
 looking, however, up in my face with her intelligent 
 apprehensive eyes, as if fearing lest I might greet 
 her with a blow, as I had done oftentimes before. 
 But I cried with gladness, as I stooped down and 
 patted her. My mind was sharing in my body's 
 weakness, and I could not reason, but I knew that 
 help was at hand. A gray figure came more and 
 more distinctly out of the thick, close-pressing dark- 
 ness. It was Gregory wrapped in his maud. 
 
208 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "Oh, Gregory!" said I, and I fell upon his neck, 
 unable to speak another word. He never spoke 
 much, and made me no answer for some little time. 
 Then he told me we must move, we must walk for 
 the dear life we must find our road home, if 
 possible; but we must move, or we should be frozen 
 to death. 
 
 "Don't you know the way home?" asked I. 
 
 "I thought I did when I set out, but I am doubt- 
 ful now. The snow blinds me, and I am feared that 
 in moving about just now, I have lost the right gait 
 homewards." 
 
 He had his shepherd's staff with him, and by dint 
 of plunging it before us at every step we took 
 clinging close to each other, we went on safely 
 enough, as far as not falling down any of the steep 
 rocks, but it was slow, dreary work. My brother, 
 I saw, was more guided by Lassie and the way she 
 took than anything else, trusting to her instinct. 
 It was too dark to-see far before us; but he called her 
 back continually, and noted from what quarter she 
 returned, and shaped our slow steps accordingly. 
 But the tedious motion scarcely kept my very blood 
 from freezing. Every bone, every fibre in my body 
 seemed first to ache, and then to swell, and then to 
 turn numb with the intense cold. My brother bore 
 it better than I, from having been more out upon the 
 hills. He did not speak, except to call Lassie. I 
 
THE HALF-BROTHERS 209 
 
 strove to be brave, and not complain; but now I 
 felt the deadly fatal sleep stealing over me. 
 
 "I can go no farther," I said, in a drowsy tone. 
 I remember I suddenly became dogged and re- 
 solved. Sleep I would, were it only for five minutes. 
 If death were to be the consequence, sleep I would. 
 Gregory stood still. I suppose, he recognized the 
 peculiar phase of suffering to which I had been 
 brought by the cold. 
 
 "It is of no use," said he, as if to himself. "We 
 are no nearer home than we were when we started, 
 as far as I can tell. Our only chance is in Lassie. 
 Here! roll thee in my maud, lad, and lay thee down 
 on this sheltered side of this bit of rock. Creep 
 close under it, lad, and I'll lie by thee, and strive to 
 keep the warmth in us. Stay! hast gotten aught 
 about thee they'll know at home?" 
 
 I felt him unkind thus to keep me from slumber, 
 but on his repeating the question, I pulled out my 
 pocket-handkerchief, of some showy pattern, which 
 aunt Fanny had hemmed for me Gregory took it, 
 and tied it around Lassie's neck. 
 
 "Hie thee, Lassie, hie thee home!" And the 
 white-faced ill-favored brute was off like a shot in 
 the darkness. Now I might lie down now I might 
 sleep. In my drowsy stupor, I felt that I was being 
 tenderly covered up by my brother; but what with 
 I neither knew nor cared I was too dull, too 
 
210 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 selfish, too numb to think and reason, or I might 
 have known that in that bleak bare place there was 
 naught to wrap me in, save what was taken off 
 another. I was glad enough when he ceased his 
 cares and lay down by me. I took his hand. 
 
 "Thou canst not remember, lad, how we lay 
 together thus by our dying mother. She put thy 
 small, wee hand in mine I reckon she sees us now; 
 and belike we shall soon be with her. Anyhow, 
 God's will be done." 
 
 "Dear Gregory," I muttered, and crept nearer 
 to him for warmth. He was talking still, and again 
 about our mother, when I fell asleep. In an instant 
 or so it seemed there were many voices about 
 me many faces hovering round me the sweet 
 luxury of warmth was stealing into every part of me. 
 I was in my own little bed at home. I am thankful 
 to say, my first word was "Gregory." 
 
 A look passed from one to another my father's 
 stern old face strove in vain to keep its sternness; 
 his mouth quivered, rn's eyes filled with unwonted 
 tears. 
 
 "I would have given him half my land I would 
 have blessed him as my son, Oh God! I would 
 have knelt at his feet, and asked him to forgive my 
 hardness of heart." 
 
 I heard no more. A whirl came through my brain, 
 catching me back to death. 
 
THE HALF-BROTHERS 211 
 
 I came slowly to my consciousness, weeks after- 
 wards. My father's hair was white when I recovered, 
 and his hands shook as he looked into my face. 
 
 We spoke no more of Gregory. We could not 
 speak of him; but he was strangely in our thoughts. 
 Lassie came and went with never a word of blame; 
 nay, my father would try to stroke her, but she 
 shrank away; and he, as if reproved by the poor 
 dumb beast, would sigh, and be silent and abstracted 
 for a time. 
 
 Aunt Fanny always a talker told me all. 
 How, on that fatal night, my father, irritated by my 
 prolonged absence, and probably more anxious than 
 he cared to show, had been fierce and imperious, 
 even beyond his wont, to Gregory; had upbraided 
 him with his father's poverty, his own stupidity 
 which made his services good for nothing for so, 
 in spite of the old shepherd, my father always chose 
 to consider them. At last, Gregory had risen up, 
 and whistled Lassie out with him poor Lassie, 
 crouching underneath his chair for fear of a kick or a 
 blow. Some time before, there had been some talk 
 between my father and my aunt respecting my 
 return; and when aunt Fanny told me all this, she 
 said she fancied that Gregory might have noticed 
 the coming storm, and gone out silently to meet me. 
 Three hours afterwards, when all were running 
 about in wild alarm, not knowing whither to go in 
 
212 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 search of me not even missing Gregory, or heed- 
 ing his absence, poor fellow poor, poor fellow! 
 Lassie came home, with my handkerchief tied round 
 her neck. They knew and understood, and the 
 whole strength of the farm was turned out to follow 
 her, with wraps and blankets, and brandy, and 
 everything that could be thought of. I lay in chilly 
 sleep, but still alive, beneath the rock that Lassie 
 guided them to. I was covered with my brother's 
 plaid, and his thick shepherd's coat was carefully 
 wrapped round my feet. He was in his shirt-sleeves 
 his arm thrown over me a quiet smile (he had 
 hardly ever smiled in life) upon his still, cold face. 
 
 My father's last words were, " God forgive me my 
 hardness of heart towards the fatherless child!" 
 
 And what marked the depth of his feeling of 
 repentance, perhaps more than all, considering the 
 passionate love he bore my mother, was this; we 
 found a paper of directions after his death, in which 
 he desired that he might lie at the foot of the grave, 
 in which, by his desire, poor Gregory had been laid 
 
 with OUR MOTHER. 
 
RAB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 BY DR. JOHN BROWN 
 
RAB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 FOUR-AND-THIRTY years ago, Bob Ainslie and I 
 were coming up Infirmary Street from the High 
 School, our heads together, and our arms inter- 
 twisted, as only lovers and boys know how, or why. 
 
 When we got to the top of the street, and turned 
 north, we espied a crowd at the Tron Church. "A 
 dog-fight!" shouted Bob, and was off; and so was 
 I, both of us all but praying that it might not be over 
 before we got up! And is not this boy-nature? and 
 human nature too? and don't we all wish a house on 
 fire not to be out before we see it? Dogs like fight- 
 ing; old Isaac says they "delight" in it, and for the 
 best of all reasons; and boys are not cruel because 
 they like to see the fight. They see three of the 
 great cardinal virtues of dog or man courage, 
 endurance, and skill in intense action. This is 
 very different from a love of making dogs fight, and 
 enjoying, and aggravating, and making gain by their 
 pluck. A boy be he ever so fond himself of 
 fighting if he be a good boy, hates and despises 
 all this, but he would have run off with Bob and me 
 fast enough: it is a natural, and a not wicked 
 interest, that all boys and men have in witnessing 
 intense energy in action. 
 
 215 
 
2l6 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Does any curious and finely ignorant woman wish 
 to know how Bob's eye at a glance announced a dog- 
 fight to his brain? He did not, he could not see the 
 dogs fighting; it was a flash of an inference, a rapid 
 induction. The crowd round a couple of dogs fight- 
 ing, is a crowd masculine mainly, with an occasional 
 active, compassionate woman, fluttering wildly 
 round the outside, and using her tongue and her 
 hands freely upon the men, as so many "brutes"; 
 it is a crowd annular, compact, and mobile; a 
 crowd centripetal, having its eyes and its heads all 
 bent downwards and inwards to one common focus. 
 
 Well, Bob and I are up, and find it is not over: a 
 small thoroughbred, white bull-terrier is busy 
 throttling a large shepherd's dog, unaccustomed to 
 war, but not to be trifled with. They are hard at it; 
 the scientific little fellow doing his work in great 
 style, his pastoral enemy fighting wildly, but with 
 the sharpest of teeth and a great courage. Science 
 and breeding, however, soon had their own; the 
 Game Chicken, as the premature Bob called him, 
 working his way up, took his final grip of poor 
 Yarrow's throat, and he lay gasping and done 
 for. His master, a brown, handsome, big young 
 shepherd from Tweedsmuir, would have liked to 
 have knocked down any man, would " drink up 
 Esil, or eat a crocodile," for that part, if he had a 
 chance: it was no use kicking the little dog; that 
 
RAB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 217 
 
 would only make him hold the closer. Many were 
 the means shouted out in mouthfuls, of the best 
 possible ways of ending it. " Water ! " but there was 
 none near, and many cried for it who might have 
 got it from the well at Blackfriars Wynd. "Bite 
 the tail!" and a large, vague, benevolent, middle- 
 aged man, more desirous than wise, with some 
 struggle got the bushy end of Y arrow' s tail into his 
 ample mouth, and bit it with all his might. This 
 was more than enough for the much-enduring, 
 much-perspiring shepherd, who, with a gleam of joy 
 over his broad visage, delivered a terrific facer upon 
 our large, vague, benevolent, middle-aged friend, 
 who went down like a shot. 
 
 Still the Chicken holds; death not far off. 
 " Snuff! a pinch of snuff!" observes a calm, highly 
 dressed young buck, with an eye-glass in his eye. 
 " Snuff, indeed!" growled the angry crowd, affronted 
 and glaring. "Snuff! a pinch of snuff!" again 
 observes the buck, but with more urgency; whereon 
 were produced several open boxes, and from a mull 
 which may have been at Culloden, he took a pinch, 
 knelt down, and presented it to the nose of the 
 Chicken. The laws of physiology and of snuff take 
 their course; the Chicken sneezes, and Yarrow is 
 free! 
 
 The young pastoral giant stalks off with Yarrow in 
 his arms, comforting him. 
 
2l8 BEST ENGLISH TALES' 
 
 But the Bull Terrier's blood is up, and his soul 
 ^unsatisfied; he grips the first dog he meets, and dis- 
 covering she is not a dog, in Homeric phrase, he 
 makes a brief sort of amende, and is off. The boys, 
 with Bob and me at their head, are after him: down 
 Niddry Street he goes, bent on mischief; up the 
 Cowgate like an arrow Bob and I, and our small 
 men, panting behind. 
 
 There, under the single arch of the South Bridge, 
 is a huge mastiff, sauntering down the middle of the 
 causeway, as if with his hands in his pockets : he is 
 old, gray, brindled, as big as a little Highland bull, 
 and has the Shaksperian dewlaps shaking as he goes. 
 
 The Chicken makes straight at him, and fastens 
 on his throat. To our astonishment, the great 
 creature does nothing but stand still, hold himself 
 up, and roar yes, roar; a long, serious, remon- 
 strative roar. How is this? Bob and I are 
 up to them. He is muzzled! The bailies had 
 proclaimed a general muzzling, and his master, 
 studying strength and economy mainly, had 
 encompassed his huge jaws in a home-made appa- 
 ratus, constructed out of the leather of some ancient 
 breechin. His mouth was open .as far as it could; 
 his lips curled up in rage a sort of terrible grin ; 
 his teeth gleaming, ready, from out the darkness; 
 the strap across his mouth tense as a bowstring; his 
 whole frame stiff with indignation and surprise; 
 
RAB AND HIS FRIENDS 219 
 
 his roar asking us all round, "Did you ever see the 
 like of this?' 7 He looked a statue of anger and 
 astonishment done in Aberdeen granite. 
 
 We soon had a crowd : the Chicken held on. "A 
 knife! " cried Bob; and a cobbler gave him his knife: 
 you know the kind of knife, worn away obliquely 
 to a point, and always keen. I put its edge to the 
 tense leather; it ran before it; and then! one 
 sudden jerk of that enormous head, a sort of dirty 
 mist about his mouth, no noise, and the bright 
 and fierce little fellow is dropped, limp and dead. 
 A solemn pause: this was more than any of us had 
 bargained for. I turned the little fellow over, and 
 saw he was quite dead: the mastiff had taken him 
 by the small of the back like a rat, and broken it. 
 
 He looked down at his victim appeased, ashamed, 
 and amazed; snuffed him all over, stared at him, 
 and taking a sudden thought, turned round and 
 trotted off. Bob took the dead dog up, and said, 
 "John, we'll bury him after tea." "Yes," said I, 
 and was off after the mastiff. He made up the Cow- 
 gate at a rapid swing; he had forgotten some engage- 
 ment. He turned up the Candlemaker Row, and 
 stopped at the Harrow Inn. 
 
 There was a carrier's cart ready to start, and a 
 keen, thin, impatient black-a- vised little man, his 
 hand at his gray horse's head, looking about angrily 
 for something. "Rab, ye thief!" said he, aiming a 
 
220 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 kick at my great friend, who drew cringing up, and 
 avoiding the heavy shoe with more agility than 
 dignity, and watching his master's eye, slunk dis- 
 mayed under the cart, his eyes down, and as much 
 as he had of tail down too. 
 
 What a man this must be thought I to 
 whom my tremendous hero turns tail! The carrier 
 saw the muzzle hanging, cut and useless, from his 
 neck, and I eagerly told him the story, which Bob 
 and I always thought and still think, Homer, or 
 King David, or Sir Walter, alone were worthy to 
 rehearse. The severe little man was mitigated and 
 condescended to say, "Rab, ma man, puir Rabbie," 
 whereupon the stump of a tail rose up, the ears 
 were cocked, the eyes filled, and were comforted; 
 the two friends were reconciled. "Hupp!" and a 
 stroke of the whip was given to Jess; and off went 
 the three. 
 
 Bob and I buried the Game Chicken that night 
 (we had not much of a tea) in the back-green of his 
 house, in Melville Street, No. 17, with considerable 
 gravity and silence; and being at the time in the 
 Iliad, and, like all boys, Trojans, we called him 
 Hector of course. 
 
RAB AND HIS FRIENDS 221 
 
 Six years have passed a long time, for a boy and 
 a dog: Bob Ainslie is off to the wars; I am a medical 
 student, and clerk at Minto House Hospital. 
 
 Rab I saw almost every week, on the Wednesday; 
 and we had much pleasant intimacy. I found the 
 way to his heart by frequent scratching of his huge 
 head, and an occasional bone. When I did not notice 
 him he would plant himself straight before me, and 
 stand wagging that bud of a tail, and looking up, 
 with his head a little to the one side. His master I 
 occasionally saw; he used to call me "Maister 
 John," but was laconic as any Spartan. 
 
 One fine October afternoon, I was leaving the 
 hospital, when I saw the large gate open, and in 
 walked Rab, with that great and easy saunter of his. 
 He looked as if taking general possession of the 
 place; like the Duke of Wellington entering a sub- 
 dued city, satiated with victory and peace. After 
 him came Jess, now white from age, with her cart; 
 and in it a woman, carefully wrapped up, the 
 carrier leading the horse anxiously, and looking 
 back. When he saw me, James (for his name was 
 James Noble) made a curt and grotesque "boo," 
 and said, "Maister John, this is the mistress; she's 
 got a trouble in her breast some kind o' an in- 
 come we're thinkin'." 
 
 By this time I saw the woman's face; she was 
 sitting on a sack filled with straw, her husband's 
 
222 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 plaid round her, and his big-coat, with its large 
 white metal buttons, over her feet. 
 
 I never saw a more unforgetable face pale, 
 serious, lonely* delicate, sweet, without being at all 
 what we call fine. She looked sixty, and had on a 
 mutch, white as snow, with its black ribbon; her 
 silvery, smooth hair setting off her dark-gray eyes 
 eyes such as one sees only twice or thrice in a life- 
 time, full of suffering, full also of the overcoming of it; 
 her eyebrows black and delicate, and her mouth firm, 
 patient, and contented, which few mouths ever are. 
 
 As I have said, I never saw a more beautiful 
 countenance, or one more subdued to settled quiet. 
 "Ailie," said James, "this is Maister John, the 
 young doctor; Rab's freend, ye ken. We often 
 speak aboot you, doctor." She smiled, and made a 
 movement, but said nothing; and prepared to come 
 down, putting her plaid aside and rising. Had 
 Solomon, in all his glory, been handing down the 
 Queen of Sheba at his palace gate, he could not have 
 done it more daintily, more tenderly, more like a 
 gentleman, than did James the Howgate carrier, 
 when he lifted down Ailie his wife. The contrast of 
 his small, swarthy, weather-beaten, keen, worldly 
 face to hers pale, subdued, and beautiful was 
 something wonderful. Rab looked on concerned and 
 
 *It is not easy giving this look by one word: it was 
 expressive of her being so much of her life alone. 
 
RAB AND HIS FRIENDS 223 
 
 puzzled, but ready for anything that might turn up, 
 - were it to strangle the nurse, the porter, or even 
 me. Ailie and he seemed great friends. 
 
 "As I was sayin', she's got a kind o' trouble in her 
 breest, doctor; wull ye tak' a look at it?" We 
 walked into the consulting-room, all four; Rab grim 
 and comic, willing to be happy and confidential if 
 cause could be shown, willing also to be the reverse, 
 on the same terms. Ailie sat down, undid her open 
 gown and her lawn handkerchief round her neck, 
 and, without a word, showed me her right breast. 
 I looked at it and examined it carefully, she and 
 James watching me, and Rab eyeing all three. What 
 could I say? There it was, that had once been so 
 soft, so shapely, so white, so gracious and bountiful, 
 so "full of all blessed conditions," hard as a stone, 
 a centre of horrid pain, making that pale face, with 
 its gray, lucid, reasonable eyes, and its sweet 
 resolved mouth, express the full measure of suffering 
 overcome. Why was that gentle, modest, sweet 
 woman, clean and lovable, condemned by God to 
 bear such a burden? 
 
 I got her away to bed. " May Rab and me bide?" 
 said James. " You may; and Rab, if he will behave 
 himself." "Fse warrant he's do that, doctor;" and 
 in slunk the faithful beast. I wish you could have 
 seen him. There are no such dogs now. He be- 
 longed to a lost tribe. As I have said, he was 
 
224 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 brindled, and gray like Rubislaw granite; his hair 
 short, hard, and close, like a lion's; his body thick 
 set, like a little bull a sort of compressed Hercules 
 of a dog. He must have been ninety pounds weight, 
 at the least; he had a large blunt head; his muzzle 
 black as night, his mouth blacker than any night, a 
 tooth or two being all he had gleaming out of 
 his jaws of darkness. His head was scarred with 
 the records of old wounds, a sort of series of fields 
 of battle all over it; one eye out, one ear cropped as 
 close as was Archbishop Leighton's father's; the 
 remaining eye had the power of two; and above it, 
 and in constant communication with it, was a 
 tattered rag of an ear, which was forever unfurling 
 itself, like an old flag; and then that bud of a tail, 
 about one inch long, if it could in any sense be said 
 to be long, being as broad as long the mobility, 
 the instantaneousness of that bud were very funny 
 and surprising, and its expressive twinklings and 
 winkings, the intercommunications between the eye, 
 the ear and it, were of the oddest and swiftest. 
 Rab had the dignity and simplicity of great size; 
 and having fought his way all along the road to 
 absolute supremacy, he was as mighty in his own 
 line as Julius Caesar or the Duke of Wellington, and 
 had the gravity * of all great fighters. 
 
 1 A Highland game-keeper, when asked why a certain 
 terrier, of singular pluck, was so much more solemn than 
 the other dogs, said, "Oh, Sir, life's full o' sairiousness to 
 him he just never can get enuff o' fechtinV 
 
RAB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 225 
 
 You must have often observed the likeness of 
 certain men to certain animals, and of certain dogs to 
 men. Now, I never looked at Rab without thinking of 
 the great Baptist preacher, Andrew Fuller. 1 The same 
 large, heavy, menacing, combative, sombre, honest 
 countenance, the same deep inevitable eye, the same 
 look, as of thunder asleep, but ready, neither a 
 dog nor a man to be trifled with. 
 
 Next day, my master, the surgeon, examined 
 Ailie. There was no doubt it must kill her, and soon. 
 It could be removed it might never return 
 it would give her speedy relief she should have it 
 done. She curtsied, looked at James, and said, 
 "When?" "To-morrow," said the kind surgeon 
 a man of few words. She and James and Rab and I 
 retired. I noticed that he and she spoke little, but 
 seemed to anticipate everything in each other. The 
 following day, at noon, the students came in, hurry- 
 
 1 Fuller was, in early life, when a farmer lad at Soham, 
 famous as a boxer; not quarrelsome, but not without "the 
 stern delight" a man of strength and courage feels in their 
 exercise. Dr. Charles Stewart, of Dunearn, whose rare 
 gifts and graces as a physician, a divine, a scholar, and a 
 gentleman, live only in the memory of those few who 
 knew and survive him, liked to tell how Mr. Fuller used to 
 say, that when he was in the pulpit, and saw a buirdly 
 man come along the passage, he would instinctively draw 
 himself up, measure his imaginary antagonist, and fore- 
 cast how he would deal with him, his hands meanwhile 
 condensing into fists, and tending to "square." He must 
 have been a hard hitter if he boxed as he preached what 
 "The Fancy" would call "an ugly customer." 
 
226 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 ing up the great stair. At the first landing-place, on 
 a small well-known blackboard, was a bit of paper 
 fastened by wafers, and many remains of old wafers 
 beside it. On the paper were the words, "An 
 operation to-day. J. B., Clerk." 
 
 Up ran the youths, eager to secure good places: 
 in they crowded, full of interest and talk. " What's 
 the case?" "Which side is it?" 
 
 Don't think them heartless; they are neither 
 better nor worse than you or I: they get over their 
 professional horrors, and into their proper work; and 
 in them pity as an emotion, ending in itself or at 
 best in tears and a long-drawn breath, lessens, while 
 pity as a motive, is quickened and gains power and 
 purpose. It is well for poor human nature that it is 
 so. 
 
 The operating theatre is crowded; much talk 
 and fun, and all the cordiality and stir of youth. 
 The surgeon with his staff of assistants is there. In 
 comes Ailie: one look at her quiets and abates the 
 eager students. That beautiful old woman is too 
 much for them; they sit down, and are dumb, and 
 gaze at her. These rough boys feel the power of her 
 presence. She walks in quickly, but without haste; 
 dressed in her mutch, her neckerchief, her white 
 dimity shortgown, her black bombazine petticoat, 
 showing her white worsted stockings and her 
 carpet-shoes. Behind her was James with Rab. 
 
RAB AND HIS FRIENDS 227 
 
 James sat down in the distance,, and took that huge 
 and noble head between his knees. Rab looked per- 
 plexed and dangerous; forever cocking his ear and 
 dropping it as fast. 
 
 Ailie stepped up on a seat, and laid herself on the 
 table, as her friend the surgeon told her; arranged 
 herself, gave a rapid look at James, shut her eyes, 
 rested herself on me, and took my hand. The oper- 
 ation was at once begun; it was necessarily slow; 
 and chloroform one of God's best gifts to his suf- 
 fering children was then unknown. The surgeon 
 did his work. The pale face showed its pain, but 
 was still and silent. Rab's soul was working within 
 him; he saw that something strange was going on, 
 blood flowing from his mistress, and she suffering; 
 his ragged ear was up, and importunate; he growled 
 and gave now and then a short impatient yelp; he 
 would have liked to have done something to that 
 man. But James had him firm, and gave him a 
 glower from time to time, and an intimation of a 
 possible kick; all the better for James, it kept his 
 eye and his mind off Ailie. 
 
 It is over: she is dressed, steps gently and 
 decently down from the table, looks for James; then, 
 turning to the surgeon and the students, she curtsies, 
 and in a low, clear voice, begs their pardon if she 
 has behaved ill. The students all of us wept 
 like children; the surgeon happed her up carefully, 
 
228 BEST, ENGLISH TALES 
 
 and, resting on James and me, Ailie went to her 
 room, Rab following. We put her to bed. James 
 took off his heavy shoes, crammed with tackets, 
 heel-capt and toe-capt, and put them carefully under 
 the table, saying, "Maister John, I'm for nane o' 
 yer strynge nurse bodies for Ailie. I'll be her nurse, 
 and I'll gang aboot on my stockin' soles as canny as 
 pussy." And so he did; and handy and clever, and 
 swift and tender as any woman, was that horny- 
 handed, snell, peremptory little man. Everything 
 she got he gave her: he seldom slept; and often I 
 saw his small shrewd eyes out of the darkness, fixed 
 on her. As before, they spoke little. 
 
 Rab behaved well, never moving, showing us how 
 meek and gentle he could be, and occasionally, in his 
 sleep, letting us know that he was demolishing some 
 adversary. He took a walk with me every day, 
 generally to the Candlemaker Row; but he was 
 sombre and mild; declined doing battle, though 
 some fit cases offered, and indeed submitted to 
 sundry indignities; and was always very ready to 
 turn, and came faster back, and trotted up the stair 
 with much lightness, and went straight to that door. 
 
 Jess, the mare, had been sent, with her weather- 
 worn cart, to Howgate, and had doubtless her own 
 dim and placid meditations and confusions, on the 
 absence of her master and Rab, and her unnatural 
 freedom from the road and her cart. 
 
RAB AND HIS FRIENDS 229 
 
 For some days Ailie did well. The wound healed 
 "by the first intention;" for as James said, "Oor 
 Ailie's skin's ower clean to beil." The students came 
 in quiet and anxious, and surrounded her bed. She 
 said she liked to see their young, honest faces. The 
 surgeon dressed her, and spoke to her in his own 
 short kind way, pitying her through his eyes. Rab 
 and James outside the circle, Rab being now 
 reconciled, and even cordial, and having made up 
 his mind that as yet nobody required worrying, but, 
 as you may suppose, semper paratus. 
 
 So far well: but, four days after the operation, 
 my patient had a sudden and long shivering, a 
 ''groosin'," as she called it. I saw her soon after; 
 her eyes were too bright, her cheek colored: she was 
 restless, and ashamed of being so; the balance was 
 lost; mischief had begun. On looking at the wound, 
 a blush of red told the secret : her pulse . was 
 rapid, her breathing anxious and quick, she wasn't 
 herself, as she said, and was vexed at her restlessness. 
 We tried what we could. James did everything, was 
 everything; never in the way, never out of it; Rab 
 subsided under the table into a dark place, and was 
 motionless, all but his eye, which followed every one. 
 Ailie got worse; began to wander in her mind, 
 gently; was more demonstrative in her ways to 
 James, rapid in her questions, and sharp at times. 
 He was vexed, and said, "She was never that way 
 
230 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 afore; no, never." For a time she knew her head 
 was wrong, and was always asking our pardon 
 the dear, gentle old woman: then delirium set in 
 strong, without pause. Her brain gave way, and 
 then came that terrible spectacle, 
 
 "The intellectual power, through words and things, 
 Went sounding on its dim and perilous way," 
 
 she sang bits of old songs and Psalms, stopping 
 suddenly, mingling the Psalms of David, and the 
 diviner words of his Son and Lord, with homely odds 
 and ends and scraps of ballads. 
 
 Nothing more touching, or in a sense more 
 strangely beautiful, did I ever witness. Her trem- 
 ulous, rapid, affectionate, eager, Scotch voice, 
 the swift, aimless, bewildered mind, the baffled 
 utterance, the bright and perilous eye; some wild 
 words, some household cares, something for James, 
 the names of the dead, Rab called rapidly and in a 
 "fremyt" voice, and he starting up, surprised, and 
 slinking off as if he were to blame somehow, or had 
 been dreaming he heard. Many eager questions 
 and beseechings which James and I could make 
 nothing of, and on which she seemed to set her all, 
 and then sink back ununderstood. It was very sad, 
 but better than many things that are not called sad. 
 James hovered about, put out and miserable, but 
 active and exact as ever; read to her, when there 
 
RAB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 231 
 
 was a lull, short bits from the Psalms, prose and 
 metre, chanting the latter in his own rude and 
 serious way, showing great knowledge of the fit 
 words, bearing up like a man, and doting over her 
 as his "ain Ailie." "Ailie, ma woman!" "Ma ain 
 bonnie wee dawtie!" 
 
 The end was drawing on: the golden bowl was 
 breaking; the silver cord was fast being loosed 
 that animula blandula, vagula, hospes, comesque, was 
 about to flee. The body and soul companions 
 for sixty years were being sundered, and taking 
 leave. She was walking, alone, through the valley 
 of that shadow, into which one day we must all 
 enter, and yet she was not alone, for we know 
 whose rod and staff were comforting her. 
 
 One night she had fallen quiet, and as we hoped, 
 asleep; her eyes were shut. We put down the gas, 
 and sat watching her. Suddenly she sat up in bed, 
 and taking a bedgown which was lying on it rolled 
 up, she held it eagerly to her breast, to the right 
 side. We could see her eyes bright with a surprising 
 tenderness and joy, bending over this bundle of 
 clothes. She held it as a woman holds a sucking 
 child;- opening out her nightgown impatiently, and 
 holding it close, and brooding over it, and murmur- 
 ing foolish little words, as over one whom his mother 
 comforteth, and who sucks and is satisfied. It was 
 pitiful and strange to see her wasted dying look, 
 keen and yet vague her immense love. 
 
232 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "Preserve me!" groaned James, giving way. 
 And then she rocked back and forward, as if to make 
 it sleep, hushing it, and wasting on it her infinite 
 fondness. "Wae's me, doctor; I declare she's 
 thinkin' it's that bairn." "What bairn?" "The 
 only bairn we ever had; our wee Mysie, and she's in 
 the Kingdom, forty years and mair." It was plainly 
 true: the pain in the breast, telling its urgent story 
 to a bewildered, ruined brain, was misread and mis- 
 taken; it suggested to her the uneasiness of a breast 
 full of milk, and then the child; and so again once 
 more they were together, and she had her ain wee 
 Mysie in her bosom. 
 
 This was the close. She sank rapidly: the 
 delirium left her; but, as she whispered, she was 
 "clean silly;" it was the lightening before the final 
 darkness. After having for some time lain still 
 her eyes shut, she said "James!" He came close 
 to her, and lifting up her calm, clear, beautiful 
 eyes, she gave him a long look, turned to me kindly 
 but shortly, looked for Rab but could not see him, 
 then turned to her husband again, as if she would 
 never leave off looking, shut her eyes, and com- 
 posed herself. She lay for some time breathing 
 quick, and passed away so gently, that when we 
 thought she was gone, James, in his old-fashioned 
 way, held the mirror to her face. After a long pause, 
 one small spot of dimness was breathed out; it 
 
RAB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 233 
 
 vanished away, and never returned, leaving the 
 blank clear darkness of the mirror without a stain. 
 "What is our life? it is even a vapor, which ap- 
 peareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away." 
 
 Rab all this time had been full awake and motion- 
 less: he came forward beside us ; Ailie's hand, which 
 James had held, was hanging down; it was soaked 
 with his tears; Rab licked it all over carefully, 
 looked at her, and returned to his place under the 
 table. 
 
 James and I sat, I don't know how long, but for 
 some time, saying nothing: he started up 
 abruptly, and with some noise went to the table, 
 and putting his right fore and middle fingers each 
 into a shoe, pulled them out, and put them on, 
 breaking one of the leather latchets, and muttering 
 in anger, "I never did the like o' that afore !" 
 
 I believe he never did; not after either. "Rab!" 
 he said roughly, and pointing with his thumb to the 
 bottom of the bed. Rab leapt up, and settled him- 
 self; his head and eye to the dead face. "Maister 
 John, ye'll wait for me," said the carrier; and disap- 
 peared in the darkness, thundering down stairs in 
 his heavy shoes. I ran to a front window: there he 
 was, already round the house, and out at the gate, 
 fleeing like a shadow. 
 
 I was afraid about him, and yet not afraid; so I 
 sat down beside Rab, and being wearied, fell asleep. 
 
234 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 I awoke from a sudden noise outside. It was No- 
 vember, and there had been a heavy fall of snow. 
 Rab was in statu quo; he heard the noise too, and 
 plainly knew it, but never moved. I looked out; 
 and there, at the gate, in the dim morning for 
 the sun was not up, was Jess and the cart, a cloud 
 of steam rising from the old mare. I did not see 
 James; he was already at the door, and came up the 
 stairs, and met me. It was less than three hours 
 since he left, and he must have posted out who 
 knows how? to Howgate, full nine miles off; 
 yoked Jess, and driven her astonished into town. 
 He had an armful of blankets, and was streaming 
 with perspiration. He nodded to me, spread out on 
 the floor two pairs of clean old blankets having at 
 their corners, "A. G., 1796," in large letters in red 
 worsted. These were the initials of Alison Graeme, 
 and James may have looked in at her from without 
 himself unseen but not un thought of when he 
 was " wat, wat, and weary," and after having walked 
 many a mile over the hills, may have seen her sitting, 
 while "a' the lave were sleepin';" and by the fire- 
 light working her name on the blankets, for her ain 
 James's bed. 
 
 He motioned Rab down, and taking his wife in 
 his arms, laid her in the blankets, and happed her 
 carefully and firmly up, leaving the face uncovered; 
 and then lifting her, he nodded again sharply to me, 
 
RAB AND HIS FRIENDS 235 
 
 and with a resolved but utterly miserable face, strode 
 along the passage, and down stairs, followed by Rab. 
 I followed with a light; but he didn't need it. I 
 went out, holding stupidly the candle in my hand 
 in the calm frosty air; we were soon at the gate. I 
 could have helped him, but I saw he was not to be 
 meddled with, and he was strong, and did not need 
 it. He laid her down as tenderly, as safely, as he 
 had lifted her out ten days before as tenderly as 
 when he had her first in his arms when she was only 
 "A. G.," sorted her, leaving the beautiful sealed 
 face open to the heavens; and then taking Jess by 
 the head, he moved away. He did not notice me, 
 neither did Rab, who presided behind the cart. 
 I stood still till they passed through the long 
 shadow of the College, and turned up Nicolson 
 Street. I heard the solitary cart sound through the 
 streets and die away and come again; and I returned 
 thinking of that company going up Liberton Brae, 
 then along Roslin Muir, the morning light touching 
 the Pentlands and making them like onlooking 
 ghosts; then down the hill through Auchindinny 
 woods, past "haunted Woodhouselee" ; and as day- 
 break came sweeping up the bleak Lammermuirs, 
 and fell on his own door, the company would stop, 
 and James would take the key and lift Ailie up again, 
 laying her on her own bed, and, having put Jess up, 
 would return with Rab and shut the door. 
 
236 . BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 James buried his wife, with his neighbors mourn- 
 ing, Rab inspecting the solemnity from a distance. 
 It was snow, and that black ragged hole would look 
 strange in the midst of the swelling spotless cushion 
 of white. James looked after everything; then 
 rather suddenly fell ill and took to bed; was insen- 
 sible when the doctor came, and soon died. A sort 
 of low fever was prevailing in the village, and his 
 want of sleep, his exhaustion, and his misery made 
 him apt to take it. The grave was not difficult to 
 reopen. A fresh fall of snow had again made all 
 things white and smooth; Rab once more looked 
 on, and slunk home to the stable. 
 
 And what of Rab? I asked for him the next week 
 at the new carrier who got the goodwill of James's 
 business, and was now master of Jess and her cart. 
 "How's Rab?" He put me off, and said rather 
 rudely, "What's your business wi' the dowg?" I 
 was not to be so put off. "Where's Rab?" He, 
 getting confused and red, and intermeddling with 
 his hair, said, "'Deed sir, Rab's deid." "Dead! 
 what did he die of?" "Well, sir," said he, getting 
 redder, "he didna exactly dee; he was killed. I 
 had to brain him wi' a rack-pin; there was nae doin' 
 wi' him. He lay in the treviss wi' the mear, and 
 wadna come oot. I tempit him wi' kail and meat, 
 but he wad tak naething, and keepit me frae feedin' 
 
RAB AND HIS FRIENDS 237 
 
 the beast, and he was aye gur gurrin', and grup 
 gruppin' me by the legs. I was laith to make awa 
 wi' the auld dowg, his like wasna atween this and 
 Thornhill, but, 'deed, sir, I could dae naething 
 else." I believed him. Fit end for Rab, quick and 
 complete. His teeth and his friends gone, why 
 should he keep the peace and be civil? 
 
 He was buried in the braeface, near the burn, the 
 children of the village, his companions, who used to 
 make very free with him and sit on his ample 
 stomach, as he lay half asleep at the door in the sun 
 watching the solemnity. 
 
HUNTED DOWN 
 BY CHARLES DICKENS 
 
HUNTED DOWN 
 
 MOST of us see some romances in life. In my 
 capacity as Chief Manager of a Life Assurance 
 Office, I think I have within the ,last thirty years 
 seen more romances than the generality of men, 
 however unpromising the opportunity may, at 
 first sight, seem. 
 
 As I have retired, and live at my ease, I possess 
 the means that I used to want, of considering 
 what I have seen, at leisure. My experiences 
 have a more remarkable aspect, so reviewed, than 
 they had when they were in progress. I have 
 come home from the Play now, and can recall the 
 scenes of the Drama upon which the curtain has 
 fallen, free from the glare, bewilderment, and 
 bustle of the Theatre. 
 
 Let me recall one of these Romances of the real 
 world. 
 
 There is nothing truer than physiognomy, taken 
 in connection with manner. The art of reading 
 that book of which Eternal Wisdom obliges every 
 human creature to present his or her own page 
 with the individual character written on it, is a 
 241 
 
242 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 difficult one, perhaps, and is little studied. It may 
 require some natural aptitude, and it must require 
 (for everything does) some patience and some 
 pains. That these are not usually given to it, 
 that numbers of people accept a few stock common- 
 place expressions of the face as the whole list of 
 characteristics, and neither seek nor know the 
 refinements that are truest, that You, for instance, 
 give a great deal of time and attention to the read- 
 ing of music, Greek, Latin, French, Italian, Hebrew, 
 if you please, and do not qualify yourself to read 
 the face of the master or mistress looking over your 
 shoulder teaching it to you, I assume to be five 
 hundred times more probable than improbable. 
 Perhaps a little self-sufficiency may be at the bottom 
 of this; facial expression requires no study from 
 you, you think; it comes by nature to you to know 
 enough about it, and you are not to be taken in. 
 
 I confess, for my part, that I have been taken in, 
 over and over again. I have been taken in by 
 acquaintances, and I have been taken in (of course) 
 by friends; far oftener by friends than by any 
 other class of persons. How came I to be so de- 
 ceived? Had I quite misread their faces? 
 
 No. Believe me, my first impression of those 
 people, founded on face and manner alone, was 
 invariably true. My mistake was in suffering them 
 to come nearer to me and explain themselves away. 
 
HUNTED DOWN 
 
 II 
 
 243 
 
 THE partition which separated my own office from 
 our general outer office in the City was of thick 
 plate-glass. I could see through it what passed in 
 the outer office, without hearing a word. I had it 
 put up in place of a wall that had been there for 
 years, ever since the house was built. It is no 
 matter whether I did or did not make the change 
 in order that I might derive my first impression of 
 strangers, who came to us on business, from their 
 faces alone, without being influenced by anything 
 they said. Enough to mention that I turned my 
 glass partition to that account, and that a Life 
 Assurance Office is at all times exposed to be 
 practised upon by the most crafty and cruel of the 
 human race. 
 
 It was through my glass partition that I first 
 saw the gentleman whose story I am going to tell. 
 
 He had come in without my observing it, and 
 had put his hat and umbrella on the broad counter, 
 and was bending over it to take some papers from 
 one of the clerks. He was about forty or so, 
 dark, exceedingly well dressed in black, being 
 in mourning, and the hand he extended with a 
 polite air, had a particularly well-fitting black-kid 
 glove upon it. His hair, which was elaborately 
 brushed and oiled, was parted straight up the 
 
244 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 middle; and he presented this parting to the clerk, 
 exactly (to my thinking) as if he had said, in so 
 many words: "You must take me, if you please, 
 my friend, just as I show myself. Come straight 
 up here, follow the gravel path, keep off the grass, 
 I allow no trespassing." 
 
 I conceived a very great aversion to that man 
 the moment I thus saw him. 
 
 He had asked for some of our printed forms, 
 and the clerk was giving them to him and explain- 
 ing them. An obliged and agreeable smile was on 
 his face, and his eyes met those of the clerk with 
 a sprightly look. (I have known a vast quantity 
 of nonsense talked about bad men not looking you 
 in the face. Don't trust that conventional idea. 
 Dishonesty will stare honesty out of countenance, 
 any day in the week, if there is anything to be got 
 by it.) 
 
 I saw, in the corner of his eyelash, that he became 
 aware of my looking at him. Immediately he 
 turned the parting in his hair toward the glass 
 partition, as if he said to me with a sweet smile, 
 "Straight up here, if you please. Off the grass!" 
 
 In a few moments he had put on his hat and 
 taken up his umbrella, and was gone. 
 
 I beckoned the clerk into my room, and asked, 
 " Who was that?" 
 
 He had the gentleman's card in his hand. "Mr. 
 Julius Slinkton, Middle Temple." 
 
HUNTED DOWN 245 
 
 "A barrister, Mr. Adams?" 
 
 "I think not, sir." 
 
 "I should have thought him a clergyman, but 
 for his having no Reverend here," said I. 
 
 " Probably, from his appearance," Mr. Adams 
 replied, "he is reading for orders." 
 
 I should mention that he wore a dainty white 
 cravat, and dainty linen altogether. 
 
 "What did he want, Mr. Adams?" 
 
 "Merely a form of proposal, sir, and form of 
 reference." 
 
 " Recommended here? Did he say?" 
 
 "Yes, he said he was recommended here by a 
 friend of yours. He noticed you, but said that as 
 he had not the pleasure of your personal acquaint- 
 ance he would not trouble you." 
 
 "Did he know my name?" 
 
 "O yes, sir! He said, 'There is Mr. Sampson, 
 I see!' " 
 
 "A well-spoken gentleman, apparently?" 
 
 "Remarkably so, sir." 
 
 "Insinuating manners, apparently?" 
 
 "Very much so, indeed, sir." 
 
 "Hah!" said I. "I want nothing at present, 
 Mr. Adams." 
 
 Within a fortnight of that day I went to dine 
 with a friend of mine, a merchant, a man of taste, 
 who buys pictures and books; and the first man 
 
246 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 I saw among the company was Mr. Julius Slinkton. 
 There he was, standing before the fire, with good 
 large eyes and an open expression of face; but 
 still (I thought) requiring everybody to come at 
 him by the prepared way he offered, and by no 
 other. 
 
 I noticed him ask my friend to introduce him 
 to Mr. Sampson, and my friend did so. Mr. 
 Slinkton was very happy to see me. Not too 
 happy; there was no over-doing of the matter; 
 happy in a thoroughly well-bred, perfectly un- 
 meaning way. 
 
 "I thought you had met," our host observed. 
 
 "No," said Mr. Slinkton. "I did look in at 
 Mr. Sampson's office, on your recommendation; 
 but I really did not feel justified in troubling Mr. 
 Sampson himself, on a point in the everyday 
 routine of an ordinary clerk." 
 
 I said I should have been glad to show him any 
 attention on our friend's introduction. 
 
 "I am sure of that," said he, "and am much 
 obliged. At another time, perhaps, I may be less 
 delicate. Only, however, if I have real business; 
 for I know, Mr. Sampson, how precious business 
 time is, and what a vast number of impertinent 
 people there are in the world." 
 
 I acknowledged his consideration with a slight 
 bow. "You were thinking," said I, "of effecting 
 a policy on your life?" 
 
HUNTED DOWN 
 
 247 
 
 "O dear, no! I am afraid I am not so prudent 
 as you pay me the compliment of supposing me to 
 be, Mr. Sampson. I merely inquired for a friend. 
 But you know what friends are in such matters. 
 Nothing may ever come of it. I have the greatest 
 reluctance to trouble men of business with in- 
 quiries for friends, knowing the probabilities to 
 be a thousand to one that the friends will never 
 follow them up. People are so fickle, so selfish, 
 so inconsiderate. Don't you, in your business, 
 find them so every day, Mr. Sampson?" 
 
 I was going to give a qualified answer; but he 
 turned his smooth, white parting on me with its 
 "Straight up here, if you please!" and I answered 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I hear, Mr. Sampson," he resumed presently, 
 for our friend had a new cook, and dinner was not 
 so punctual as usual, "that your profession has 
 recently suffered a great loss." 
 
 "In money?" said I. 
 
 He laughed at my ready association of loss with 
 money, and replied, "No, in talent and vigor." 
 
 Not at once following out his allusion, I con- 
 sidered for a moment. "Has it sustained a loss 
 of that kind!" said I. "I was not aware of it." 
 
 "Understand me, Mr. Sampson. I don't imagine 
 that you have retired. It is not so bad as that. 
 But Mr. Meltham " 
 
248 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "O, to be sure!" said I. "Yes! Mr. Meltham. 
 the young actuary of the 'Inestimable.' ' 
 
 "Just so," he returned in a consoling way. 
 
 "He is a great loss. He was at once the most 
 profound, the most original, and the most ener- 
 getic man I have ever known connected with Life 
 Assurance." 
 
 I spoke strongly; for I had a high esteem and 
 admiration for Meltham; and my gentleman had 
 indefinitely conveyed to me some suspicion that 
 he wanted to sneer at him. He recalled me to 
 my guard by presenting that trim pathway up his 
 head, with its infernal "Not on the grass, if you 
 please the gravel." 
 
 "You knew him, Mr. Slinkton?" 
 
 "Only by reputation. To have known him as 
 an acquaintance, or as a friend, is an honor I 
 should have sought if he had remained in society, 
 though I might never have had the good fortune 
 to attain it, being a man of far inferior mark. He 
 was scarcely above thirty, I suppose?" 
 
 "About thirty." 
 
 "Ah!" he sighed in his former consoling way. 
 "What creatures we are! To break up, Mr. 
 Sampson, and become incapable of business at 
 that time of life! Any reason assigned for the 
 melancholy fact?" 
 
 ("Humph!" thought I, as I looked at him. 
 
HUNTED DOWN 
 
 249 
 
 " But I WON'T go up the track, and I WILL go on 
 the grass.") 
 
 "What reason have you heard assigned, Mr. 
 Slinkton?" I asked, point-blank. 
 
 "Most likely a false one. You know what 
 Rumor is, Mr. Sampson. I never repeat what I 
 hear; it is the only way of paring the nails and 
 shaving the head of Rumor. But when you ask 
 me what reason I have heard assigned for Mr. 
 Meltham's passing away from among men, it is 
 another thing. I am not gratifying idle gossip 
 then. I was told, Mr. Sampson, that Mr. Meltham 
 had relinquished all his avocations and all his 
 prospects, because he was, in fact, broken-hearted. 
 A disappointed attachment I heard, though it 
 hardly seems probable, in the case of a man so 
 distinguished and so attractive." 
 
 "Attractions and distinctions are no armor 
 against death," said I. 
 
 "O, she died? Pray pardon me. I did not hear 
 that. That, indeed, makes it very, very sad. 
 Poor Mr. Meltham! She died? Ah, dear me! 
 Lamentable, lamentable ! " 
 
 I still thought his pity was not quite genuine, 
 and I still suspected an unaccountable sneer under 
 all this, until he said, as we were parted, like the 
 other knots of talkers, by the announcement of 
 dinner: 
 
250 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "Mr. Sampson, you are surprised to see me so 
 moved on behalf of a man whom I have never 
 known. I am not so disinterested as you may 
 suppose. I have suffered, and recently too, from 
 death myself. I have lost one of two charming 
 nieces, who were my constant companions. She 
 died young barely three-and- twenty; and even 
 her remaining sister is far from strong. The 
 world is a grave!" 
 
 He said this with deep feeling, and I felt re- 
 proached for the coldness of my manner. Coldness 
 and distrust had been engendered in me, I knew, 
 by my bad experiences; they were not natural to me; 
 and I often thought how much I had lost in life, 
 losing trustfulness, and how little I had gained, 
 gaining hard caution. This state of mind being 
 habitual to me, I troubled myself more about this 
 conversation than I might have troubled myself 
 about a greater matter. I listened to his talk at 
 dinner, and observed how readily other men 
 responded to it, and with what a graceful instinct 
 he adapted his subjects to the knowledge and 
 habits of those he talked with. As, in talking with 
 me, he had easily started the subject I might be 
 supposed to understand best, and to be the most 
 interested in, so, in talking with others, he guided 
 himself by the same rule. The company was of a 
 varied character; but he was not at fault, that I 
 
HUNTED DOWN 
 
 251 
 
 could discover, with any member of it. He knew 
 just as much of each man's pursuit as made him 
 agreeable to that man in reference to it, and just 
 as little as made it natural in him to seek modestly 
 for information when the theme was broached. 
 
 As he talked and talked but really not too 
 much, for the rest of us seemed to force it upon 
 him I became quite angry with myself. I took 
 his face to pieces in my mind, like a watch, and 
 examined it in detail. I could not say much against 
 any of his features separately; I could say even 
 less against them when they were put together. 
 ''Then is it not monstrous," I asked myself, "that 
 because a man happens to part his hair straight up 
 the middle of his head, I should permit myself to 
 suspect, and even to detest him?" 
 
 (I may stop to remark that this was one proof of 
 my sense. An observer of men who finds himself 
 steadily repelled by some apparently trifling thing 
 in a stranger is right to give it great weight. It 
 may be the clue to the whole mystery. A hair or 
 two will show where a lion is hidden. A very 
 little key will open a very heavy door.) 
 
 I took my part in the conversation with him 
 after a time, and we got on remarkably well. In 
 the drawing-room I asked the host how long he 
 had known Mr. Slinkton. He answered, not 
 many months; he had met him at the house of a 
 
252 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 celebrated painter then present, who had known 
 him well when he was travelling with his nieces 
 in Italy for their health. His plans in life being 
 broken by the death of one of them, he was reading 
 with the intention of going back to college as a 
 matter of form, taking his degree, and going into 
 orders. I could not but argue with myself that 
 here was the true explanation of his interest in poor 
 Meltham, and that I had been almost brutal in my 
 distrust on that simple head. 
 
 in 
 
 ON the very next day but one I was sitting behind 
 my glass partition, as before, when he came into 
 the outer office, as before. The moment I saw 
 him again without hearing him, I hated him worse 
 than ever. 
 
 It was only for a moment that I had this oppor- 
 tunity; for he waved his tight-fitting black glove 
 the instant I looked at him, and came straight in. 
 
 "Mr. Sampson, good-day! I presume, you 
 see, upon your kind permission to intrude upon 
 you. I don't keep my word in being justified by 
 business, for my business here if I may so abuse 
 the word is of the slightest nature." 
 
 I asked, was it anything I could assist him in? 
 
 "I thank you, no. I merely called to inquire 
 
HUNTED DOWN 253 
 
 outside whether my dilatory friend had been so 
 false to himself as to be practical and sensible. 
 But, of course, he has done nothing. I gave him 
 your papers with my own hand, and he was hot 
 upon the intention, but of course he has done 
 nothing. Apart from the general human dis- 
 inclination to do anything that ought to be done, 
 I dare say there is a speciality about assuring one's 
 life. You find it like will-making. People are 
 so superstitious, and take it for granted they will 
 die soon afterwards." 
 
 "Up here, it you please; straight up here, Mr. 
 Sampson. Neither to the right nor to the left." I 
 almost fancied I could hear him breathe the words 
 as he sat smiling at me, with that intolerable parting 
 exactly opposite the bridge of my nose. 
 
 "There is such a feeling sometimes, no doubt," 
 I replied; "but I don't think it obtains to any 
 great extent." 
 
 "Well," said he, with a shrug and a smile, "I 
 wish some good angel would influence my friend 
 in the right direction. I rashly promised his mother 
 and sister in Norfolk to see it done, and he promised 
 them that he would do it. But I suppose he never 
 will." 
 
 He spoke for a minute or two on indifferent 
 topics, and went away. 
 
 I had scarcely unlocked the drawers of my 
 
254 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 writing-table next morning, when he reappeared. 
 I noticed that he came straight to the door in the 
 glass partition, and did not pause a single moment 
 outside. 
 
 "Can you spare me two minutes, my dear Mr. 
 Sampson? " 
 
 "By all means." 
 
 "Much obliged/' laying his hat and umbrella 
 on the table; "I came early, not to interrupt you. 
 The fact is, I am taken by surprise in reference to 
 this proposal my friend has made." 
 
 "Has he made one?" said I. 
 
 "Ye-es," he answered, deliberately looking at 
 me; and then a bright idea seemed to strike him 
 "or he only tells me he has. Perhaps that 
 may be a new way of evading the matter. By 
 Jupiter, I never thought of that!" 
 
 Mr. Adams was opening the morning's letters 
 in the outer office. "What is the name, Mr. 
 Slinkton?" I asked. 
 
 "Beckwith." 
 
 I looked out at the door and requested Mr. 
 Adams, if there were a proposal in that name, to 
 bring it in. He had already laid it out of his hand 
 on the counter. It was easily selected from the 
 rest, and he gave it me. Alfred Beckwith. Proposal 
 to effect a policy with us for two thousand pounds. 
 Dated yesterday 
 
HUNTED DOWN 255 
 
 "From the Middle Temple, I see, Mr. Slinkton." 
 
 "Yes. He lives on the same staircase with me; 
 his door is opposite. I never thought he would 
 make me his reference, though." 
 
 "It seems natural enough that he should." 
 
 "Quite so, Mr. Sampson; but I never thought 
 of it. Let me see." He took the printed paper 
 from his pocket. "How am I to answer all these 
 questions?" 
 
 "According to the truth, of course," said I. 
 
 "O, of course!" he answered, looking up from 
 the paper with a smile; "I meant they were so 
 many. But you do right to be particular. It 
 stands to reason that you must be particular. 
 Will you allow me to use your pen and ink?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "And your desk?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 He had been hovering about between his hat 
 and his umbrella for a place to write on. He now 
 sat down in my chair, at my blotting-paper and 
 inkstand, with the long walk up his head in accurate 
 perspective before me, as I stood with my back to 
 the fire. 
 
 Before answering each question he ran over it 
 aloud, and discussed it. How long had he known 
 Mr. Alfred Beckwith? That he had to calculate 
 by years upon his fingers. What were his habits? 
 
256 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 No difficulty about them; temperate in the last 
 degree, and took a little too much exercise, if 
 anything. All the answers were satisfactory. 
 When he had written them all, he looked them 
 over, and finally signed them in a very pretty 
 hand. He supposed he had now done with the 
 business. I told him he was not likely to be troubled 
 any farther. Should he leave the papers there? 
 If he pleased. Much obliged. Good morning. 
 
 I had had one other visitor before him; not at 
 the office, but at my own house. That visitor 
 had come to my bedside when it was not yet day- 
 light, and had been seen by no one else but my 
 faithful confidential servant. 
 
 A second reference paper (for we required always 
 two) was sent down into Norfolk, and was duly 
 received back by post. This, likewise, was satis- 
 factorily answered in every respect. Our forms 
 were all complied with; we accepted the proposal, 
 and the premium for one year was paid. 
 
 IV 
 
 FOR six or seven months I saw no more of Mr. 
 Slinkton. He called once at my house, but I was 
 not at home; and he once asked me to dine with 
 him in the Temple, but I was engaged. His friend's 
 assurance was effected in March. Late in September 
 
HUNTED DOWN 257 
 
 pr early in October I was down at Scarborough for 
 a breath of sea-air, where I met him on the beach. 
 It was a hot evening; he came toward me with 
 his hat in his hand; and there was the walk I had 
 felt so strongly disinclined to take in perfect order 
 again, exactly in front of the bridge of my nose. 
 
 He was not alone, but had a young lady on his 
 arm. 
 
 She was dressed in mourning, and I looked at 
 her with great interest. She had the appearance 
 of being extremely delicate, and her face was 
 remarkably pale and melancholy; but she was 
 very pretty. He introduced her as his niece, 
 Miss Niner. 
 
 "Are you strolling, Mr. Sampson? Is it possible 
 you can be idle? " 
 
 It was possible, and I was strolling. 
 
 "Shall we stroll together?" 
 
 "With pleasure." 
 
 The young lady walked between us, and we 
 walked on the cool sea sand, in the direction of 
 Filey. 
 
 "There have been wheels here," said Mr. Slink- 
 ton. "And now I look again, the wheels of a 
 hand-carriage! Margaret, my love, your shadow 
 without doubt!" 
 
 "Miss Niner's shadow?" I repeated, looking 
 down at it on the sand. 
 
258 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "Not that one," Mr. Slinkton returned, laugh- 
 ing. " Margaret, my dear, tell Mr. Sampson." 
 
 "Indeed," said the young lady, turning to me, 
 "there is nothing to tell except that I constantly 
 see the same invalid old gentleman at all times, 
 wherever I go. I have mentioned it to my uncle, 
 and he calls the gentleman my shadow." 
 
 "Does he live in Scarborough?" I asked. 
 
 "He is staying here." 
 
 "Do you live in Scarborough?" 
 
 "No, I am staying here. My uncle has placed 
 me with a family here, for my health." 
 
 "And your shadow?" said I, smiling. 
 
 "My shadow," she answered, smiling too, "is 
 - like myself not very robust, I fear; for I lose 
 my shadow sometimes, as my shadow loses me at 
 other times. We both seem liable to confinement 
 to the house. I have not seen my shadow for days 
 and days; but it does oddly happen, occasionally, 
 that wherever I go, for many days together, this 
 gentleman goes. We have come together in the 
 most unfrequented nooks on this shore." 
 
 "Is this he?" said I, pointing before us. 
 
 The wheels had swept down to the water's edge, 
 and described a great loop on the sand in turning. 
 Bringing the loop back towards us, and spinning 
 it out as it came, was a hand-carriage, drawn by a 
 man. 
 
HUNTED DOWN 259 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Niner, "this really is my 
 shadow, uncle." 
 
 As the carriage approached us and we approached 
 the carriage, I saw within it an old man, whose 
 head was sunk on his breast, and who was en- 
 veloped in a variety of wrappers. He was drawn 
 by a very quiet but very keen-looking man, with 
 iron-gray hair, who was slightly lame. They had 
 passed us, when the carriage stopped, and the old 
 gentleman within, putting out his arm, called to me 
 by my name. I went back, and was absent from 
 Mr. Slinkton and his niece for about five minutes. 
 
 When I rejoined them, Mr. Slinkton was the 
 first to speak. Indeed, he said to me in a raised 
 voice before I came up with him: 
 
 "It is well you have not been longer, or my 
 niece might have died of curiosity to know who 
 her shadow is, Mr. Sampson." 
 
 "An old East India Director," said I. "An 
 intimate friend of our friend's, at whose house I 
 first had the pleasure of meeting you. A certain 
 Major Banks. You have heard of him?" 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "Very rich, Miss Niner; but very old, and 
 very crippled. An amiable man, sensible much 
 interested in you. He has just been expatiating 
 on the affection that he has observed to exist 
 between you and your uncle." 
 
260 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Mr. Slinkton was holding his hat again, and he 
 passed his hand up the straight walk, as if he 
 himself went up it serenely, after me. 
 
 "Mr. Sampson," he said, tenderly pressing his 
 niece's arm in his, "our affection was always a 
 strong one, for we have had but few near ties. 
 We have still fewer now. We have associations 
 to bring us together, that are not of this world, 
 Margaret." 
 
 "Dear uncle!" murmured the young lady, and 
 turned her face aside to hide her tears. 
 
 "My niece and I have such remembrances and 
 regrets in common, Mr. Sampson," he feelingly 
 pursued, "that it would be strange indeed if the 
 relations between us were cold or indifferent. If 
 I remember a conversation we once had together, 
 you will understand the reference I make. Cheer 
 up, dear Margaret. Don't droop, don't droop. 
 My Margaret! I cannot bear to see you droop!" 
 
 The poor young lady was very much affected, 
 but controlled herself. His feelings, too, were 
 very acute. In a word, he found himself under 
 such great need of a restorative, that he presently 
 went away, to take a bath of sea-water, leaving 
 the young lady and me sitting by a point of rock, 
 and probably presuming but that you will say 
 was a pardonable indulgence in a luxury that 
 she would praise him with all her heart. 
 
HUNTED DOWN 2 6l 
 
 She did, poor thing! With all her confiding 
 heart, she praised him to me, for his care of her 
 dead sister, and for his untiring devotion in her 
 last illness. The sister had wasted away very 
 slowly, and wild and terrible fantasies had come 
 over her toward the end, but he had never been 
 impatient with her, or at a loss; had always been 
 gentle, watchful, and self-possessed. The sister 
 had known him, as she had known him, to be the 
 best of men, the kindest of men, and yet a man of 
 such admirable strength of character, as to be a 
 very tower for the support of their weak natures 
 while their poor lives endured. 
 
 "I shall leave him, Mr. Sampson, very soon," 
 said the young lady; "I know my life is drawing to 
 an end; and when I am gone, I hope he will marry 
 and be happy. I am sure he has lived single so long, 
 only for my sake, and for my poor, poor sister's." 
 
 The little hand-carriage had made another great 
 loop on the damp sand, and was coming back 
 again, gradually spinning out a slim figure of 
 eight, half a mile long. 
 
 " Young lady," said I, looking around, laying 
 my hand upon her arm, and speaking in a low 
 voice, "time presses. You hear the gentle murmur 
 of that sea?" 
 
 She looked at me with the utmost wonder and 
 alarm, saying, 
 
262 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 "And you know what a voice is in it when the 
 storm comes?" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 "You see how quiet and peaceful it lies before 
 us, and you know what an awful sight of power 
 without pity it might be, this very night!" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 "But if you had never heard or seen it, or heard 
 of it in its cruelty, could you believe that it beats 
 every inanimate thing in its way to pieces, without 
 mercy, and destroys life without remorse? " 
 
 "You terrify me, sir, by these questions!" 
 
 "To save you, young lady, to save you! For 
 God's sake, collect your strength and collect your 
 firmness! If you were here alone, and hemmed in 
 by the rising tide on the flow to fifty feet above 
 your head, you could not be in greater danger 
 than the danger you are now to be saved from." 
 
 The figure on the sand was spun out, and straggled 
 off into a crooked little jerk that ended at the cliff 
 very near us. 
 
 "As I am, before Heaven and the judge of all 
 mankind, your friend, and your dead sister's friend, 
 I solemnly entreat you, Miss Niner, without one 
 moment's loss of time, to come to this gentleman 
 with me!" 
 
 If the little carriage had been less near to us 7 
 
HUNTED DOWN 263 
 
 I doubt if I could have got her away; but it was 
 so near that we were there before she had recovered 
 the hurry of being urged from the rock. I did not 
 remain there with her two minutes. Certainly 
 within five, I had the inexpressible satisfaction 
 of seeing her from the point we had sat on, and 
 to which I had returned half supported and 
 half carried up some rude steps notched in the 
 cliff, by the figure of an active man. With that 
 figure beside her, I knew she was safe anywhere. 
 
 I sat alone on the rock, awaiting Mr. Slinkton's 
 return. The twilight was deepening and the 
 shadows were heavy, when he came round the 
 point, with his hat hanging at his button-hole, 
 smoothing his wet hair with one of his hands, and 
 picking out the old path with the other and a 
 pocket-comb. 
 
 "My niece not here, Mr. Sampson?" he said, 
 looking about. 
 
 "Miss Niner seemed to feel a chill in the air 
 after the sun was down, and has gone home." 
 
 He looked surprised, as though she were not 
 accustomed to do anything without him; even to 
 originate so slight a proceeding. 
 
 "I persuaded Miss Niner," I explained. 
 
 "Ah!" said he. "She is easily persuaded 
 for her good. Thank you, Mr. Sampson; she is 
 better within doors. The bathing-place was 
 farther than I thought, to say the truth." 
 
264 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "Miss Niner is very delicate/' I observed. 
 
 He shook his head and drew a deep sigh. "Very, 
 very, very. You may recollect my saying so. The 
 time that has since intervened has not strengthened 
 her. The gloomy shadow that fell upon her sister 
 so early in life seems, in my anxious eyes, to gather 
 over her, ever darker, ever darker. Dear Margaret, 
 dear Margaret! But we must hope." 
 
 The hand-carriage was spinning away before us 
 at a most indecorous pace for an invalid vehicle, 
 and was making most irregular curves upon the 
 sand. Mr. Slinkton, noticing it after he had put 
 his handkerchief to his eyes, said: 
 
 "If I may judge from appearances, your friend 
 will be upset, Mr. Sampson." 
 
 "It looks probable, certainly," said I. 
 
 "The servant must be drunk." 
 
 "The servants of old gentlemen will get drunk 
 sometimes," said I. 
 
 "The major draws very light, Mr. Sampson." 
 
 "The major does draw light," said I. 
 
 By this time the carriage, much to my relief, was 
 lost in the darkness. We walked on for a little, side 
 by side over the sand, in silence. After a short 
 while he said, in a voice still affected by the emotion 
 that his niece's state of health had awakened in him, 
 
 "Do you stay here long, Mr. Sampson?" 
 
 "Why, no. I am going away to-night." 
 
HUNTED DOWN 265 
 
 "So soon? But business always holds you in 
 request. Men like Mr. Sampson are too impor- 
 tant to others, to be spared to their own need of 
 relaxation and enjoyment." 
 
 "I don't know about that," said I. "However, 
 I am going back." 
 
 "To London?" 
 
 "To London." 
 
 "I shall be there too, soon after you." 
 
 I knew that as well as he did. But I did not 
 tell him so. Any more than I told him what 
 defensive weapon my right hand rested on in my 
 pocket, as I walked by his side. Any more than 
 I told him why I did not walk on the sea side 
 of him with the night closing in. 
 
 We left the beach, and our ways diverged. We 
 exchanged good-night, and had parted indeed, 
 when he said, returning, 
 
 "Mr. Sampson, may I ask? Poor Meltham, 
 whom we spoke of, dead yet? " 
 
 "Not when I last heard of him; but too broken 
 a man to live long, and hopelessly lost to his old 
 calling." 
 
 "Dear, dear, dear!" said he, with great feeling. 
 "Sad, sad, sad! The world is a grave!" And 
 so went his way. 
 
 It was not his fault if the world were not a 
 grave; but I did not call that observation after 
 
266 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 him, any more than I had mentioned those other 
 things just now enumerated. He went his way, 
 and I went mine with all expedition. This hap- 
 pened, as I have said, either at the end of September 
 or beginning of October. The next time I saw him, 
 and the last time, was late in November. 
 
 I HAD a very particular engagement to breakfast in 
 the Temple. It was a bitter north-easterly morn- 
 ing, and the sleet and slush lay inches deep in the 
 streets. I could get no conveyance, and was soon 
 wet to the knees; but I should have been true to 
 that appointment, though I had to wade to it up 
 to my neck in the same impediments. 
 
 The appointment took me to some chambers in 
 the Temple. They were at the top of a lonely 
 corner house overlooking the river. The name, 
 MR. ALFRED BECKWITH, was painted on the outer 
 door. On the door opposite, on the same landing, 
 the name, MR. JULIUS SLINKTON. The doors of both 
 sets of chambers stood open, so that anything said 
 aloud in one set could be heard in the other. 
 
 I had never been in those chambers before. 
 They were dismal, close, unwholesome, and op- 
 pressive; the furniture, originally good, and not 
 yet old, was faded and dirty, the rooms were in 
 
HUNTED DOWN 267 
 
 great disorder; there was a strong prevailing smell 
 of opium, brandy, and tobacco; the grate and 
 fire-irons were splashed all over with unsightly 
 blotches of rust; and on a sofa by the fire, in the 
 room where breakfast had been prepared, lay the 
 host, Mr. Beck with, a man with all the appearances 
 of the worst kind of drunkard, very far advanced 
 upon his shameful way to death. 
 
 "Slinkton is not come yet," said this creature, 
 staggering up when I went in; "I'll call him. 
 Halloa! Julius Caesar! Come and drink!" As 
 he hoarsely roared this out, he beat the poker and 
 tongs together in a mad way, as if that were his 
 usual manner of summoning his associate. 
 
 The voice of Mr. Slinkton was heard through 
 the clatter from the opposite side of the staircase, 
 and he came in. He had not expected the pleasure 
 of meeting me. I have seen several artful men 
 brought to a stand, but I never saw a man so 
 aghast as he was when his eyes rested on mine. 
 
 "Julius Ca3sar," cried Beckwith, staggering 
 between us, "Mist' Sampson! Mist' Sampson, 
 Julius Caesar! Julius, Mist' Sampson, is the friend 
 of my soul. Julius keeps me plied with liquor, 
 morning, noon, and night. Julius is a real bene- 
 factor. Julius threw the tea and coffee out of 
 window when I used to have any. Julius empties 
 all the water-jugs of their contents, and fills 'em 
 
268 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 with spirits. Julius winds me up and keeps me 
 going. Boil the brandy, Julius!" 
 
 There was a rusty and furred saucepan in the 
 ashes, the ashes looked like the accumulation of 
 weeks, and Beck with, rolling and staggering 
 between us as if he were going to plunge headlong 
 into the fire, got the saucepan out, and tried to 
 force it into Slinkton's hand. 
 
 "Boil the brandy, Julius Caesar! Come! Do 
 your usual office. Boil the brandy!" 
 
 He became so fierce in his gesticulations with 
 the saucepan, that I expected to see him lay open 
 Slinkton's head with it. I therefore put out my 
 hand to check him. He reeled back to the sofa, 
 and sat there panting, shaking, and red-eyed, in 
 his rags of dressing-gown, looking at us both. I 
 noticed then that there was nothing to drink on 
 the table but brandy, and nothing to eat but salted 
 herrings, and a hot, sickly, highly peppered stew. 
 
 "At all events, Mr. Sampson," said Slinkton, 
 offering me the smooth gravel path for the last 
 time, "I thank you for interfering between me 
 and this unfortunate man's violence. However you 
 came here, Mr. Sampson, or with whatever motive 
 you came here, at least I thank you for that." 
 
 "Boil the brandy," muttered Beckwith. 
 
 Without gratifying his desire to know how I 
 came there, I said quietly, "How is your niece, 
 Mr. Slinkton?" 
 
HUNTED DOWN 269 
 
 He looked hard at me, and I looked hard at him. 
 
 "I am sorry to say, Mr. Sampson, that my 
 niece has proved treacherous and ungrateful to her 
 best friend. She left me without a word of notice 
 or explanation. She was misled, no doubt, by 
 some designing rascal. Perhaps you may have 
 heard of it?" 
 
 "I did hear that she was misled by a designing 
 rascal. In fact, I have proof of it." 
 
 "Are you sure of that?" said he. 
 
 "Quite." 
 
 "Boil the brandy," muttered Beckwith. "Com- 
 pany to breakfast, Julius Caesar. Do your usual 
 office, provide the usual breakfast, dinner, tea, 
 and supper. Boil the brandy!" 
 
 The eyes of Slinkton looked from him to me, 
 and he said, after a moment's consideration, 
 
 "Mr. Sampson, you are a man of the world, 
 and so am I. I will be plain with you." 
 
 "O no, you won't," said I, shaking my head. 
 
 "I tell you, sir, I will be plain with you." 
 
 "And I tell you you will not," said I. "I know 
 all about you. You plain with any one? Nonsense, 
 nonsense!" 
 
 "I plainly tell you, Mr. Sampson," he went 
 on, with a manner almost composed, "that I 
 understand your object. You want to save your 
 funds, and escape from your liabilities; these are 
 
270 
 
 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 old tricks of trade with you Office-gentlemen. 
 But you will not do it, sir; you will not succeed. 
 You have not an easy adversary to play against, 
 when you play against me. We shall have to 
 inquire, in due time, when and how Mr. Beckwith 
 fell into his present habits. With that remark, 
 sir, I put this poor creature, and his incoherent 
 wanderings of speech, aside, and wish you a good 
 morning and a better case next time." 
 
 While he was saying this, Beckwith had rilled a 
 half-pint glass with brandy. At this moment, he 
 threw the brandy at his face, and threw the glass 
 after it. Slinkton put his hands up, half blinded 
 with the spirit, and cut with the glass across the 
 forehead. At the sound of the breakage, a fourth 
 person came into the room, closed the door, and 
 stood at it; he was a very quiet but very keen- 
 looking man, with iron-gray hair, and slightly 
 lame. 
 
 Slinkton pulled out his handkerchief, assuaged 
 the pain in his smarting eyes, and dabbled the 
 blood on his forehead. He was a long time about 
 it, and I saw that in the doing of it, a tremendous 
 change came over him, occasioned by the change 
 in Beckwith, who ceased to pant and tremble, 
 sat upright, and never took his eyes off him. I 
 never in my life saw a face in which abhorrence 
 and determination were so forcibly painted as in 
 Beckwith's then. 
 
HUNTED DOWN 271 
 
 "Look at me, you villain," said Beckwith, 
 "and see me as I really am. I took these rooms, 
 to make them a trap for you. I came into them 
 as a drunkard, to bait the trap for you. You fell 
 into the trap, and you will never leave it alive. 
 On the morning when you last went to Mr. Samp- 
 son's office, I had seen him first. Your plot has 
 been known to both of us, all along, and you have 
 been counter-plotted all along. What? Having 
 been cajoled into putting that prize of two thousand 
 pounds in your power, I was to be done to death 
 with brandy, and, brandy not proving quick 
 enough, with something quicker? Have I never 
 seen you, when you thought my senses gone, 
 pouring from your little bottle into my glass? 
 Why, you Murderer and Forger, alone here with 
 you in the dead of night, as I have so often been, 
 I have had my hand upon the trigger of a pistol, 
 twenty times, to blow your brains out!" 
 
 This sudden starting up of the thing that he had 
 supposed to be his imbecile victim into a deter- 
 mined man, with a settled resolution to hunt him 
 down and be the death of him, mercilessly expressed 
 from head to foot, was, in the first shock, too much 
 for him. Without any figure of speech, he staggered 
 under it. But there is no greater mistake than to 
 suppose that a man who is a calculating criminal, 
 is, in any phase of his guilt, otherwise than true to 
 
272 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 himself, and perfectly consistent with his whole 
 character. Such a man commits murder, and 
 murder is the natural culmination of his course; 
 such a man has to outface murder, and will do it 
 with hardihood and effrontery. It is a sort of 
 fashion to express surprise that any notorious 
 criminal, having such crime upon his conscience, 
 can so brave it out. Do you think that if he had it 
 on his conscience at all, or had a conscience to have 
 it upon, he would ever have committed the crime? 
 
 Perfectly consistent with himself, as I believe 
 all such monsters to be, this Slinkton recovered 
 himself, and showed a defiance that was sufficiently 
 cold and quiet. He was white, he was haggard, 
 he was changed; but only as a sharper who had 
 played for a great stake and had been outwitted 
 and had lost the game. 
 
 "Listen to me, you villain," said Beckwith, 
 "and let every word you hear me say be a stab in 
 your wicked heart. When I took these rooms, to 
 throw myself in your way and lead you on to the 
 scheme that I knew my appearance and supposed 
 character and habits would suggest to such a devil, 
 how did I know that? Because you were no stranger 
 to me. I knew you well. And I knew you to be the 
 cruel wretch who, for so much money, had killed 
 one innocent girl while she trusted him implicitly, 
 and who was by inches killing another." 
 
HUNTED DOWN 273 
 
 Slinkton took out a snuff-box, took a pinch of 
 snuff, and laughed. 
 
 "But see here," said Beckwith, never looking 
 away, never raising his voice, never relaxing his 
 face, never unclenching his hand. "See what a 
 dull wolf you have been, after all! The infatu- 
 ated drunkard who never drank a fiftieth part of 
 the liquor you plied him with, but poured it away, 
 here, there, and everywhere almost before your 
 eyes; who bought over the fellow you set to 
 watch him and to ply him, by outbidding you in 
 his bribe, before he had been at his work three 
 days with whom you have observed no caution, 
 yet who was so bent on ridding the earth of you 
 as a wild beast, that he would have defeated you 
 if you had been ever so prudent that drunkard 
 whom you have, many a time, left on the floor of 
 this room, and who has even let you go out of it, 
 alive and undeceived, when you have turned him 
 over with your foot has, almost as often, on the 
 same night, within an hour, within a few minutes, 
 watched you awake, had his hand at your pillow 
 when you were asleep, turned over your papers, 
 taken samples from your bottles and packets of 
 powder, changed their contents, rifled every secret 
 of your life!" 
 
 He had had another pinch of snuff in his hand, 
 but had gradually let it drop from between his 
 
274 BE ST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 fingers to the floor; where he now smoothed 
 it out with his foot, looking down at it the while. 
 
 "That drunkard," said Beckwith, "who had 
 free access to your rooms at all times, that he 
 might drink the strong drinks that you left in his 
 way and be the sooner ended, holding no more 
 terms with you than he would hold with a tiger, 
 has had his master-key for all your locks, his test 
 for all your poisons, his clue to your cipher-writ- 
 ing. He can tell you, as well as you can tell him, 
 how long it took to complete that deed, what 
 doses there were, what intervals, what signs of 
 gradual decay upon mind and body; what dis- 
 tempered fancies were produced, what observable 
 changes, what physical pain. He can tell you, as 
 well as you can tell him, that all this was recorded 
 day by day, as a lesson of experience for future 
 service. He can tell you, better than you can tell 
 him, where that journal is at this moment." 
 
 Slinkton stopped the action of his foot, and 
 looked at Beckwith. 
 
 "No," said the latter, as if answering a ques- 
 tion from him. "Not in the drawer of the writing- 
 desk that opens with a spring; it is not there, 
 and it never will be there again." 
 
 "Then you are a thief!" said Slinkton. 
 
 Without any change whatever in the inflexible 
 purpose, which it was quite terrific even to me to 
 
HUNTED DOWN 
 
 275 
 
 contemplate, and from the power of which I had 
 always felt convinced it was impossible for this 
 wretch to escape, Beckwith returned, 
 
 "And I am your niece's shadow, too." 
 
 With an imprecation Slinkton put his hand to 
 his head, tore out some hair, and flung it to the 
 ground. It was the end of the smooth walk; he 
 destroyed it in the action, and it will soon be seen 
 that his use for it was past. 
 
 Beckwith went on: "Whenever you left here, 
 I left here. Although I understood that you found 
 it necessary to pause in the completion of that 
 purpose, to avert suspicion, still I watched you 
 close, with the poor confiding girl. When I had 
 the diary, and could read it word by word, it 
 was only about the night before your last visit to 
 Scarborough, you remember the night? you 
 slept with a small flat vial tied to your wrist, I 
 sent to Mr. Sampson, who was kept out of view. 
 This is Mr. Sampson's trusty servant standing by 
 the door. We three saved your niece among us." 
 
 Slinkton looked at us all, took an uncertain 
 step or two from the place where he had stood, 
 returned to it, and glanced about him in a very 
 curious way, as one of the meaner reptiles 
 might, looking for a hole to hide : n. I noticed at 
 the same time, that a singular change took place 
 in the figure of the man, as if it collapsed within 
 
276 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 his clothes, and they consequently became ill- 
 shapen and ill-fitting. 
 
 "You shall know," said Beckwith, "for I hope 
 the knowledge will be bitter and terrible to you, 
 why you have been pursued by one man, and 
 why, when the whole interest that Mr. Sampson 
 represents would have expended any money in 
 hunting you down, you have been tracked to 
 death at a single individual's charge. I hear you 
 have had the name of Meltham on your lips some- 
 times?" 
 
 I saw, in addition to those other changes, a 
 sudden stoppage come upon his breathing. 
 
 "When you sent the sweet girl whom you mur- 
 dered (you know with what artfully made-out 
 surroundings and probabilities you sent her) to 
 Meltham's office, before taking her abroad to 
 originate the transaction that doomed her to the 
 grave, it fell to Meltham's lot to see her and to speak 
 with her. It did not fall to his lot to save her, 
 though I know he would freely give his own life 
 to have done it. He admired her; I would say 
 he loved her deeply, if I thought it possible that 
 you could understand the word. When she was 
 sacrificed, he was thoroughly assured of your guilt. 
 Having lost her, he had but one object left in life, 
 and that was to avenge her and destroy you." 
 
 I saw the villain's nostrils rise and fall convul- 
 sively; but I saw no moving at his mouth. 
 
HUNTED DOWN 
 
 277 
 
 "That man Meltham," Beckwith steadily pur- 
 sued, "was as absolutely certain that you could 
 never elude him in this world, if he devoted him- 
 self to your destruction with his utmost fidelity 
 and earnestness, and if he divided the sacred duty 
 with no other duty in life, as he was certain that 
 in achieving it lie would be a poor instrument in 
 the hands of Providence, and would do well before 
 Heaven in striking you out from among living 
 men. I am that man, and I thank God that I 
 have done my work!" 
 
 If Slinkton had been running for his life from 
 swift-footed savages, a dozen miles, he could not 
 have shown more emphatic signs of being op- 
 pressed at heart and laboring for breath, than he 
 showed now, when he looked at the pursuer who 
 had so relentlessly hunted him down. 
 
 "You never saw me under my right name be- 
 fore; you see me under my right name now. You 
 shall see me once again in the body, when you are 
 tried for your life. You shall see me once again 
 in the spirit, when the cord is round your neck, 
 and the crowd are crying against you!" 
 
 When Meltham had spoken these last words, 
 the miscreant suddenly turned away his face, and 
 seemed to strike his mouth with his open hand. 
 At the same instant, the room was filled with a 
 new and powerful odor, and, almost at the same 
 
278 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 instant, he broke into a crooked run, leap, start, 
 - I have no name for the spasm, and fell, with a 
 dull weight that shook the heavy old doors and 
 windows in their frames. 
 
 That was the fitting end of him. 
 
 When we saw that he was dead, we drew away 
 from the room, and Meltham, giving me his hand, 
 said, with a weary air, 
 
 "I have no more work on earth, my friend. 
 But I shall see her again elsewhere." 
 
 It was in vain that I tried to rally him. He 
 might have saved her, he said; he had not saved 
 her, and he reproached himself; he had lost her, 
 and he was broken-hearted. 
 
 "The purpose that sustained me is over, Sampson, 
 and there is nothing now to hold me to life. I am 
 not fit for life; I am weak and spiritless; I have 
 no hope and no object; my day is done." 
 
 In truth, I could hardly have believed that the 
 broken man who then spoke to me was the man 
 who had so strongly and so differently impressed 
 me when his purpose was before him. I used 
 such entreaties with him, as I could; but he still 
 said, and always said, in a patient, undemonstra- 
 tive way, nothing could avail him, he was 
 broken-hearted. 
 
 He died early in the next spring. He was buried 
 by the side of the poor young lady for whom he had 
 
HUNTED DOWN 
 
 279 
 
 cherished those tender and unhappy regrets; and he 
 left all he had to her sister. She lived to be a happy 
 wife and mother; she married my sister's son, who 
 succeeded poor Meltham; she is living now, and 
 her children ride about the garden on my walking- 
 stick when I go to see her. 
 
TO BE TAKEN WITH A GRAIN 
 OF SALT 
 
 BY CHARLES DICKENS 
 
TO BE TAKEN WITH A GRAIN 
 OF SALT 
 
 I HAVE always noticed a prevalent want of 
 courage, even among persons of superior intelli- 
 gence and culture, as to imparting their own 
 psychological experiences when those have been of a 
 strange sort. Almost all men are afraid that what 
 they could relate in such wise would find no parallel 
 or response in a listener's internal life, and might be 
 suspected or laughed at. A truthful traveller who 
 should have seen some extraordinary creature in 
 the likeness of a sea-serpent, would have no fear of 
 mentioning it; but the same traveller having had 
 some singular presentiment, impulse, vagary of 
 thought, vision (so called), dream, or other re- 
 markable mental impression, would hesitate con- 
 siderably before he would own to it. To this 
 reticence I attribute much of the obscurity in 
 which such subjects are involved. We do not 
 habitually communicate our experiences of these 
 subjective things as we do our experiences of 
 objective creation. The consequence is, that the 
 general stock of experience in this regard appears 
 exceptional, and really is so, in respect of being 
 miserably imperfect. 
 
 283 
 
284 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 In what I am going to relate I have no intention 
 of setting up, opposing, or supporting, any theory 
 whatever. I know the history of the Bookseller of 
 Berlin, I have studied the case of the wife of a late 
 Astronomer Royal as related by Sir David Brewster, 
 and I have followed the minutest details of a much 
 more remarkable case of Spectral Illusion occurring 
 within my private circle of friends. It may be 
 necessary to state as to this last that the sufferer 
 (a lady) was in no degree, however distant, related 
 to me. A mistaken assumption on that head 
 might suggest an explanation of a part of my own 
 case but only a part which would be wholly 
 without foundation. It cannot be referred to my 
 inheritance of any developed peculiarity, nor had I 
 ever before any at all similar experience, nor have 
 I ever had any at all similar experience since. 
 
 It does not signify how many years ago, or how 
 few, a certain Murder was committed in England, 
 which attracted great attention. We hear more 
 than enough of Murderers as they rise in succession 
 to their atrocious eminence, and I would bury the 
 memory of this particular brute, if I could, as his 
 body was buried, in Newgate Jail. I purposely 
 abstain from giving any direct clue to the criminal's 
 individuality. 
 
 When the murder was first discovered, no 
 suspicion fell or I ought rather to say, for I can- 
 
TO BE TAKEN WITH A GRAIN OF SALT 285 
 
 not be too precise in my facts, it was nowhere 
 publicly hinted that any suspicion fell on the 
 man who was afterwards brought to trial. As no ref- 
 erence was at that time made to him in the news- 
 papers, it is obviously impossible that any descrip- 
 tion of him can at that time have been given in the 
 newspapers. It is essential that this fact be remem- 
 bered. 
 
 Unfolding at breakfast my morning paper, 
 containing the account of that first discovery, I 
 found it to be deeply interesting, and I read it with 
 close attention. I read it twice, if not three times. 
 The discovery had been made in a bedroom, and, 
 when I laid down the paper, I was aware of a flash 
 rush flow I do not know what to call it 
 no word I can find is satisfactorily descriptive in 
 which I seemed to see that bedroom passing through 
 my room, like a picture impossible painted on a 
 running river. Though almost instantaneous in its 
 passing, it was perfectly clear; so clear that I dis- 
 tinctly, and with a sense of relief, observed the 
 absence of the dead body from the bed. 
 
 It was in no romantic place that I had this 
 curious sensation, but in chambers in Piccadilly, 
 very near to the corner of St. James's-street. It 
 was entirely new to me. I was in my easy-chair at 
 the moment, and the sensation was accompanied 
 with a peculiar shiver which started the chair 
 
286 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 from its position. (But it is to be noted that the 
 chair ran easily on castors.) I went to one of the 
 windows (there are two in the room, and the room 
 is on the second floor) to refresh my eyes with the 
 moving objects down in Piccadilly. It was a 
 bright autumn morning, and the street was spark- 
 ling and cheerful. The wind was high. As I looked 
 out, it brought down from the Park a quantity of 
 fallen leaves, which a gust took, and whirled into a 
 spiral pillar. As the pillar fell and the leaves 
 dispersed, I saw two men on the opposite side of the 
 way, going from West to East. They were one 
 behind the other. The foremost man often looked 
 back over his shoulder. The second man followed 
 him, at a distance of some thirty paces, with his 
 right hand menacingly raised. First, the singu- 
 larity and steadiness of this threatening gesture in 
 so public a thoroughfare attracted my attention; 
 and next, the more remarkable circumstance that 
 nobody heeded it. Both men threaded their way 
 among the other passengers, with a smoothness 
 hardly consistent even with the action of walking 
 on a pavement, and no single creature, that I could 
 see, gave them place, touched them, or looked 
 after them. In passing before my windows, they 
 both stared up at me. I saw their two faces very 
 distinctly, and I knew that I could recognize them 
 anywhere. Not that I had consciously noticed 
 
TO BE TAKEN WITH A GRAIN OF SALT 287 
 
 anything very remarkable in either face, except 
 that the man who went first had an unusually 
 lowering appearance, and that the face of the man 
 who followed him was of the color of impure wax. 
 
 I am a bachelor, and my valet and his wife 
 constitute my whole establishment. My occupation 
 is in a certain Branch Bank, and I wish that my 
 duties as head of a Department were as light as 
 they are popularlyt supposed to be. They kept me in 
 town that autumn, when I stood in need of change. 
 I was not ill, but I was not well. My reader is to 
 make the most that can be reasonably made of my 
 feeling jaded, having a depressing sense upon me 
 of a monotonous life, and being " slightly dyspeptic." 
 I am assured by my renowned doctor that my real 
 state of health at that time justifies no stronger 
 description, and I quote his own from his written 
 answer to my request for it. 
 
 As the circumstances of the Murder, gradually 
 unravelling, took stronger and stronger possession of 
 the public mind, I kept them away from mine, by 
 knowing as little about them as was possible in the 
 midst of the universal excitement. But I knew 
 that a verdict of Wilful Murder had been found 
 against the suspected Murderer, and that he had 
 been committed to Newgate for trial. I also knew 
 that his trial had been postponed over one Sessions 
 of the Central Criminal Court, on the ground of 
 
288 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 general prejudice and want of time for the prep- 
 aration of the defence. I may further have known, 
 but I believe I did not, when, or about when, the 
 Sessions to which his trial stood postponed would 
 come on. 
 
 My sitting-room, bedroom, and dressing-room 
 are all on one floor. With the last there is no 
 communication but through the bedroom. True, 
 there is a door in it, once communicating with the 
 staircase; but a part of the fitting of my bath has 
 been and had then been for some years 
 fixed across it. At the same period, and as a part of 
 the same arrangement, the door had been nailed 
 up and canvased over. 
 
 I was standing in my bedroom late one night, 
 giving some directions to my servant before he 
 went to bed. My face was towards the only avail- 
 able door of communication with the dressing-room, 
 and it was closed. My servant's back was towards 
 that door. While I was speaking to him I saw it 
 open, and a man look in, who very earnestly and 
 mysteriously beckoned to me. That man was the 
 man who had gone second of the two along Picca- 
 dilly, and whose face was the color of impure wax. 
 
 The figure, having beckoned, drew back and 
 closed the door. With no longer pause than was 
 made by my crossing the bedroom, I opened the 
 dressing-room door, and looked in. I had a lighted 
 
TO BE TAKEN WITH A GRAIN OF SALT 289 
 
 candle already in my hand. I felt no inward 
 expectation of seeing the figure in the dressing- 
 room, and I did not see it there. 
 
 Conscious that my servant stood amazed, I 
 turned round to him, and said: "Derrick, could 
 you believe that in my cool senses I fancied I saw 
 a " As I there laid my hand upon his breast, with 
 a sudden start he trembled violently, and said, 
 "O Lord, yes, sir! A dead man beckoning!" 
 
 Now, I do not believe that this John Derrick, my 
 trusty and attached servant for more than twenty 
 years, had any impression whatever of having seen 
 any such figure, until I touched him. The change 
 in him was so startling, when I touched him, that I 
 fully believed he derived his impression in some 
 occult manner from me at that instant. 
 
 I bade John Derrick bring some brandy, and I 
 gave him a dram, and was glad to take one myself. 
 Of what had preceded that night's phenomenon, I 
 told him not a single word. Reflecting on it, I was 
 absolutely certain that I had never seen that face 
 before, except on the one occasion in Piccadilly. 
 Comparingits expression when beckoning at the door, 
 with its expression when it had stared up at me as I 
 stood at my window, I came to the conclusion that 
 on the first occasion it had sought to fasten itself 
 upon my memory, and that on the second occasion 
 it had made sure of being immediately remembered. 
 
BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 I was not very comfortable that night, though I 
 felt a certainty, difficult to explain, that the figure 
 would not return. At daylight, I fell into a heavy 
 sleep, from which I was awakened by John Derrick's 
 coming to my bedside with a paper in his hand. 
 
 This paper, it appeared, had been the subject of 
 an altercation at the door between its bearer and my 
 servant. It was a summons to me to serve upon a 
 Jury at the forthcoming Sessions of the Central 
 Criminal Court at the Old Bailey. I had never 
 before been summoned on such a Jury, as John 
 Derrick well knew. He believed I am not certain 
 at this hour whether with reason or otherwise 
 that that class of Jurors were customarily chosen 
 on a lower qualification than mine, and he had at 
 first refused to accept the summons. The man who 
 served it had taken the matter very coolly. He had 
 said that my attendance or non-attendance was 
 nothing to him; there the summons was; and I 
 should deal with it at my own peril, and not at his. 
 
 For a day or two I was undecided whether to 
 respond to this call, or take no notice of it. I was not 
 conscious of the slightest mysterious bias, influence, 
 or attraction, one way or other. Of that I am as 
 strictly sure as of every other statement that I make 
 here. Ultimately I decided as a break in the 
 monotony of my life that I would go. 
 
 The appointed morning was a raw morning in the 
 
TO BE TAKEN WITH A GRAIN OF SALT 
 
 291 
 
 month of November. There was a dense brown fog 
 in Piccadilly, and it became positively black and in 
 the last degree oppressive East of Temple Bar. I 
 found the passages and staircases of the Court 
 House flaringly lighted with gas, and the Court 
 itself similarly illuminated. I think that until I 
 was conducted by officers into the Old Court and 
 saw its crowded state, I did not know that the 
 Murderer was to be tried that day. I think that 
 until I was so helped into the Old Court with 
 considerable difficulty, I did not know into which 
 of the two Courts sitting, my summons would take 
 me. But this must not be received as a positive 
 assertion, for I am not completely satisfied in my 
 mind on either point. 
 
 I took my seat in the place appropriated to 
 Jurors in waiting, and I looked about the Court as 
 well as I could through the cloud of fog and breath 
 that was heavy in it. I noticed the black vapor 
 hanging like a murky curtain outside the great 
 windows, and I noticed the stifled sound of wheels 
 on the straw or tan that was littered in the street; 
 also, the hum of the people gathered there, which a 
 shrill whistle, or a louder song or hail than the rest, 
 occasionally pierced. Soon afterwards the Judges, 
 two in number, entered and took their seats. The 
 buzz in the Court was awfully hushed. The 
 direction was given to put the Murderer to the bar. 
 
2Q2 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 He appeared there. And in that same instant I 
 recognized in him, the first of the two men who had 
 gone down Piccadilly. 
 
 If my name had been called then, I doubt if I 
 could have answered to it audibly. But it was 
 called about sixth or eighth in the panel, and I was 
 by that time able to say "Here!" Now, observe. 
 As I stepped into the box, the prisoner, who had 
 been looking on attentively but with no sign of 
 concern, became violently agitated, and beckoned 
 to his attorney. The prisoner's wish to challenge 
 me was so manifest, that it occasioned a pause, 
 during which the attorney, with his hand upon the 
 dock, whispered with his client, and shook his head. 
 I afterwards had it from that gentleman, that the 
 prisoner's first affrighted words to him were, 
 " At all hazards challenge that man/" But, that as 
 he would give no reason for it, and admitted that 
 he had not even known my name until he heard it 
 called and I appeared, it was not done. 
 
 Both on the ground already explained, that I 
 wish to avoid reviving the unwholesome memory of 
 that Murderer, and also because a detailed account 
 of his long trial is by no means indispensable to my 
 narrative, I shall confine myself closely to such 
 incidents in the ten days and nights during which 
 we, the Jury, were kept together, as directly bear 
 on my own curious personal experiences It is in 
 
TO BE TAKEN WITH A GRAIN OF SALT 293 
 
 that, and not in the Murderer, that I seek to 
 interest my reader. It is to that, and not to a page 
 of the Newgate Calendar, that I beg attention. 
 
 I was chosen Foreman of the Jury. On the 
 second morning of the trial, after evidence had been 
 taken for two hours (I heard the church clocks 
 strike), happening to cast my eyes over my brother- 
 jurymen, I found an inexplicable difficulty in 
 counting them. I counted them several times, 
 yet always with the same difficulty. In short, I 
 made them one too many. 
 
 I touched the brother-juryman whose place was 
 next me, and I whispered to him, "Oblige me by 
 counting us." He looked surprised by the request, 
 but turned his head and counted. "Why," says he, 
 suddenly, "we are Thirt ; but no, it's not 
 possible. No. We are twelve." 
 
 According to my counting that day, we were 
 always right in detail, but in the gross we were 
 always one too many. There was no appearance 
 no figure to account for it; but I had now an 
 inward foreshadowing of the figure that was surely 
 coming. 
 
 The Jury were housed at the London Tavern. 
 We all slept in one large room on separate tables, 
 and we were constantly in the charge and under the 
 eye of the officer sworn to hold us in safe-keeping. 
 I see no reason for suppressing the real name of that 
 
294 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 officer. He was intelligent, highly polite, and 
 obliging, and (I was glad to hear) much respected 
 in the City. He had an agreeable presence, good 
 eyes, enviable black whiskers, and a fine sonorous 
 voice. His name was Mr. Harker. 
 
 When we turned into our twelve beds at night, 
 Mr. Harker's bed was drawn across the door. On 
 the night of the second day, not being disposed to 
 lie down, and seeing Mr. Harker sitting on his bed, I 
 went and sat beside him, and offered him a pinch 
 of snuff. As Mr. Harker's hand touched mine in 
 taking it from my box, a peculiar shiver crossed 
 him, and he said, "Who is this!" 
 
 Following Mr. Harker's eyes, and looking along 
 the room, I saw again the figure I expected the 
 second of the two men who had gone down Picca- 
 dilly. I rose, and advanced a few steps; then 
 stopped, and looked round at Mr. Harker. He was 
 quite unconcerned, laughed, and said in a pleasant 
 way, "I thought for a moment we had a thirteenth 
 juryman, without a bed. But I see it is the moon- 
 light." 
 
 Making no revelation to Mr. Harker, but inviting 
 him to take a walk with me to the end of the room, 
 I watched what the figure did. It stood for a few 
 moments by the bedside of each of my eleven 
 brother jurymen, close to the pillow. It always 
 went to the right-hand side of the bed, and always 
 
TO BE TAKEN WITH A GRAIN OF SALT 295 
 
 passed out crossing the foot of the next bed. It 
 seemed from the action of the head, merely to look 
 down pensively at each recumbent figure. It took 
 no notice of me, or of my bed, which was that near- 
 est to Mr. Barker's. It seemed to go out where 
 the moonlight came in, through a high window, as 
 by an aerial flight of stairs. 
 
 Next morning at breakfast, it appeared that 
 everybody present had dreamed of the murdered 
 man last night, except myself and Mr. Harker. 
 
 I now felt as convinced that the second man who 
 had gone down Piccadilly was the murdered man 
 (so to speak), as if it had been borne into my 
 comprehension by his immediate testimony. But 
 even this took place, and in a manner for which 
 I was not at all prepared. 
 
 On the fifth day of the trial, when the case for the 
 prosecution was drawing to a close, a miniature of 
 the murdered man, missing from his bedroom upon 
 the discovery of the deed, and afterwards found in a 
 hiding-place where the Murderer had been seen 
 digging, was put in evidence. Having been iden- 
 tified by the witness under examination, it was 
 handed up to the Bench, and thence handed down 
 to be inspected by the Jury. As an officer in a 
 black gown was making his way with it across to 
 me, the figure of the second man who had gone 
 down Piccadilly impetuously started from the 
 
296 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 crowd, caught the miniature . from the officer, and 
 gave it to me with its own hands, at the same time 
 saying in a low and hollow tone before I saw the 
 miniature, which was in a locket "/ was younger 
 then, and my face was not then drained of blood." 
 It also came between me and the brother-juryman 
 to whom I would have given the miniature, and 
 between him and the brother-juryman to whom 
 he would have given it, and so passed it on through 
 the whole of our number, and back into my pos- 
 session. Not one of them, however, detected this. 
 At table, and generally when we were shut up to- 
 gether in Mr. Harker's custody, we had from the 
 first naturally discussed the day's proceedings a 
 good deal. On that fifth day, the case for the 
 prosecution being closed, and we having that side 
 of the question in a completed shape before us, 
 our discussion was more animated and serious. 
 Among our number was a vestryman the densest 
 idiot I have ever seen at large who met the 
 plainest evidence with the most preposterous 
 objections, and who was sided with by two flabby 
 parochial parasites; all the three empanelled from a 
 district so delivered over to Fever that they ought 
 to have been upon their own trial, for five hundred 
 Murders. When these mischievous blockheads 
 were at their loudest, which was towards midnight 
 while some of us were already preparing for bed, I 
 
TO BE TAKEN WITH A GRAIN OF SALT 297 
 
 again saw the murdered man. He stood grimly 
 behind them, beckoning to me. On my going 
 towards them and striking into the conversation, 
 he immediately retired. This was the beginning of a 
 separate series of appearances, confined to that long 
 room in which we were confined. Whenever a knot 
 of my brother-jurymen laid their heads together, 
 I saw the head of the murdered man among theirs. 
 Whenever their comparison of notes was going 
 against him, he would solemnly and irresistibly 
 beckon to me. 
 
 It will be borne in mind that down to the pro- 
 duction of the miniature on the fifth day of the trial, 
 I had never seen the Appearance in Court. Three 
 changes occurred, now that we entered on the case 
 for the defence. Two of them I will mention 
 together, first. The figure was now in Court 
 continually, and it never there addressed itself to me, 
 but always to the person who was speaking at the 
 time. For instance. The throat of the murdered 
 man had been cut straight across. In the opening 
 speech for the defence, it was suggested that the 
 deceased might have cut his own throat. At that 
 very moment, the figure with its throat in the 
 dreadful condition referred to (this it had concealed 
 before) stood at the speaker's elbow, motioning 
 across and across its windpipe, now with the right 
 hand, now with the left, vigorously suggesting to 
 
298 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 the speaker himself, the impossibility of such a 
 wound having been self-inflicted by either hand. 
 For another instance. A witness to character, a 
 woman, deposed to the prisoner's being the most 
 amiable of mankind. The figure at that instant 
 stood on the floor before her, looking her full in the 
 face, and pointing out the prisoner's evil counte- 
 nance with an extended arm and an outstretched 
 finger. 
 
 The third change now to be added, impressed me 
 strongly, as the most marked and striking of all. 
 I do not theorize upon it; I accurately state it, 
 and there leave it. Although the Appearance was 
 not itself perceived by those whom it addressed, 
 its coming close to such persons was invariably 
 attended by some trepidation or disturbance on 
 their part. It seemed to me as if it were prevented 
 by laws to which I was not amenable, from fully 
 revealing itself to others, and yet as if it could, 
 invisibly, dumbly, and darkly, overshadow their 
 minds. When the leading counsel for the defence 
 suggested that hypothesis of suicide and the figure 
 stood at the learned gentleman's elbow, frightfully 
 sawing at its severed throat, it is undeniable that 
 the counsel faltered in his speech, lost for a few 
 seconds the thread of his ingenious discourse, 
 wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, and 
 turned extremely pale. When the witness to 
 
TO BE TAKEN WITH A GRAIN OF SALT; 299 
 
 character was confronted by the Appearance, her 
 eyes most certainly did follow the direction of its 
 pointed finger, and rest in great hesitation and 
 trouble upon the prisoner's face. Two additional 
 illustrations will suffice. On the eighth day of the 
 trial, after the pause which was every day made 
 early in the afternoon for a few minutes' rest and 
 refreshment, I came back into court with the rest of 
 the Jury, some little time before the return of the 
 Judges. Standing up in the box and looking about 
 me, I thought the figure was not there, until, 
 chancing to raise my eyes to the gallery, I saw it 
 bending forward and leaning over a very decent 
 woman, as if to assure itself whether the Judges had 
 resumed their seats or not. Immediately afterwards 
 that woman screamed, fainted, and was carried out. 
 So with the venerable, sagacious, and patient Judge 
 who conducted the trial. When the case was over, 
 and he settled himself and his papers to sum up, 
 the murdered man entering by the Judges' door, 
 advanced to his Lordship's desk, and looked eagerly 
 over his shoulder at the pages of his notes which he 
 was turning. A change came over his Lordship's 
 face; his hand stopped; the peculiar shiver that I 
 knew so well, passed over him; he faltered, "Excuse 
 me, gentlemen, for a few moments. I am some- 
 what oppressed by the vitiated air;" and did not 
 recover until he had drunk a glass of water. 
 
300 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 Through all the monotony of six of these in- 
 terminable ten days the same Judges and others 
 on the bench, the same Murderer in the dock, the 
 same lawyers at the table, the same tones of question 
 and answer rising to the roof of the Court, the same 
 scratching of the Judge's pen, the same ushers 
 going in and out, the same lights kindled at the 
 same hour when there had been any natural light 
 of day, the same foggy curtain outside the great 
 windows when it was foggy, the same rain pattering 
 and dripping when it was rainy, the same footmarks 
 of turnkeys and prisoner day after day on the same 
 sawdust, the same keys locking and unlocking the 
 same heavy doors through all the wearisome 
 monotony which made me feel as if I had been 
 Foreman of the Jury for a vast period of time, and 
 Piccadilly had flourished coevally with Babylon, 
 the murdered man never lost one trace of his 
 distinctness in my eyes, nor was he at any moment 
 less distinct than anybody else. I must not omit, 
 as a matter of fact, that I never once saw the Ap- 
 pearance which I call by the name of the murdered 
 man, look at the Murderer. Again and again I 
 wondered, "Why does he not?" But he never did. 
 
 Nor did he look at me, after the production of the 
 miniature, until the last closing minutes of the trial 
 arrived. We retired to consider, at seven minutes 
 before ten at night. The idiotic vestryman and 
 
TO BE TAKEN WITH A GRAIN OF SALT 301 
 
 his two parochial parasites gave us so much trouble 
 that we twice returned into Court, to beg to have 
 certain extracts from the Judge's notes re-read. 
 Nine of us had not the smallest doubt about those 
 passages, neither, I believe, had any one in Court; 
 the dunderheaded triumvirate, however, having no 
 idea but obstruction, disputed them for that very 
 reason. At length we prevailed, and finally the 
 Jury returned into Court at ten minutes past twelve. 
 
 The murdered man at that time stood directly 
 opposite the Jury-box, on the other side of the 
 Court. As I took my place, his eyes rested on me, 
 with great attention; he seemed satisfied, and 
 slowly shook a great gray veil, which he carried on 
 his arm for the first time, over his head and whole 
 form. As I gave in our verdict, "Guilty," the veil 
 collapsed, all was gone, and his place was empty. 
 
 The Murderer being asked by the Judge, accord- 
 ing to usage, whether he had anything to say before 
 sentence of Death should be passed upon him, 
 indistinctly muttered something which was de- 
 scribed in the leading newspapers of the follow- 
 ing day as "a few rambling, incoherent, and half- 
 audible words, in which he was understood to 
 complain that he had not had a fair trial, because 
 the Foreman of the Jury was prepossessed against 
 him." The remarkable declaration that he really 
 made was this: "My Lord, I knew I was a doomed 
 
302 
 
 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 man -when the Foreman of my Jury came into the box. 
 My Lord, I knew he would never let me off, because, 
 before I was taken, he somehow got to my bedside in 
 the night, woke me, and put a rope round my neck" 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 
 BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 
 
 DENIS DE BEAULIEU was not yet two-and-twenty, 
 but he counted himself a grown man, and a very ac- 
 complished cavalier into the bargain. Lads were 
 early formed in that rough, warfaring epoch; and 
 when one has been in a pitched battle and a dozen 
 raids, has killed one's man in an honorable fashion, 
 and knows a thing or two of strategy and mankind, 
 a certain swagger in the gait is surely to be pardoned. 
 He had put up his horse with due care, and supped 
 with due deliberation; and then, in a very agreeable 
 frame of mind, went out to pay a visit in the gray 
 of the evening. It was not a very wise proceeding 
 on the young man's part. He would have done 
 better to remain beside the fire or go decently to 
 bed. For the town was full of the troops of Bur- 
 gundy and England under a mixed command; and 
 though Denis was there on safe-conduct, his safe- 
 conduct was like to serve him little on a chance 
 encounter. 
 
 It was September 1429; the weather had fallen 
 sharp; a flighty piping wind, laden with showers, 
 beat about the township; and the dead leaves ran 
 riot along the streets. Here and there a window was 
 already lighted up; and the noise of men-at-arms 
 305 
 
306 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 making merry over supper within, came forth in 
 fits and was swallowed up and carried away by the 
 wind. The night fell swiftly; the flag of England, 
 fluttering on the spire-top, grew ever fainter and 
 fainter against the flying clouds a black speck 
 like a swallow in the tumultuous, leaden chaos of the 
 sky. As the night fell the wind rose, and began to 
 hoot under archways and roar amid the tree-tops in 
 the valley below the town. 
 
 Denis de Beaulieu walked fast and was soon 
 knocking at his friend's door; but though he prom- 
 ised himself to stay only a little while and make an 
 early return, his welcome was so pleasant, and he 
 found so much to delay him, that it was already long 
 past midnight before he said good-by upon the 
 threshold. The wind had fallen again in the mean- 
 while; the night was as black as the grave; not a 
 star, nor a glimmer of moonshine, slipped through 
 the canopy of cloud. Denis was ill-acquainted with 
 the intricate lanes of Chateau Landon ; even by day- 
 light he had found some trouble in picking his way; 
 and in this absolute darkness he soon lost it alto- 
 gether. He was certain of one thing only to keep 
 mounting the hill; for his friend's house lay at the 
 lower end, or tail, of Chateau Landon, while the inn 
 was up at the head, under the great church spire. 
 With this clue to go upon he stumbled and groped 
 forward, now breathing more freely in open places 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 307 
 
 where there was a good slice of sky overhead, now 
 feeling along the wall in stifling closes. It is an eerie 
 and mysterious position to be thus submerged in 
 opaque blackness in an almost unknown town. The 
 silence is terrifying in its possibilities. The touch 
 of cold window bars to the exploring hand startles 
 the man like the touch of a toad ; the inequalities of 
 the pavement shake his heart into his mouth; a 
 piece of denser darkness threatens an ambuscade 
 or a chasm in the pathway; and where the air is 
 brighter, the houses put on strange and bewildering 
 appearances, as if to lead him farther from his way. 
 For Denis, who had to regain his inn without 
 attracting notice, there was real danger as well as 
 mere discomfort in the walk; and he went warily 
 and boldly at once, and at every corner paused to 
 make an observation. 
 
 He had been for some time threading a lane so 
 narrow that he could touch a wall with either hand, 
 when it began to open out and go sharply downward. 
 Plainly this lay no longer in the direction of his inn; 
 but the hope of a little more light tempted him 
 forward to reconnoitre. The lane ended in a terrace 
 with a bartizan wall, which gave an outlook between 
 high houses, as out of an embrasure, into the valley 
 lying dark and formless several hundred feet below. 
 Denis looked down, and could discern a few tree- 
 tops waving and a single speck of brightness where 
 
308 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 the river ran across a weir. The weather was clear- 
 ing up, and the sky had lightened, so as to show the 
 outline of the heavier clouds and the dark margin of 
 the hills. By the uncertain glimmer, the house on 
 his left hand should be a place of some pretensions; 
 it was surmounted by several pinnacles and turret- 
 tops; the round stern of a chapel, with a fringe of 
 flying buttresses, projected boldly from the main 
 block; and the door was sheltered under a deep 
 porch carved with figures and overhung by two long 
 gargoyles. The windows of the chapel gleamed 
 through their intricate tracery with a light as of 
 many tapers, and threw out the buttresses and the 
 peaked roof in a more intense blackness against the 
 sky. It was plainly the hotel of some great family 
 of the neighborhood; and as it reminded Denis of a 
 town house of his own at Bourges, he stood for some 
 time gazing up at it and mentally gauging the skill 
 of the architects and the consideration of the two 
 families. 
 
 There seemed to be no issue to the terrace but the 
 lane by which he had reached it; he could only 
 retrace his steps, but he had gained some notion of 
 his whereabouts, and hoped by this means to hit the 
 main thoroughfare and speedily regain the inn. He 
 was reckoning without that chapter of accidents 
 which was to make this night memorable above all 
 others in his career; for he had not gone back above 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 309 
 
 a hundred yards before he saw a light coming to 
 meet him, and heard loud voices speaking together 
 in the echoing narrows of the lane. It was a party 
 of men-at-arms going the night round with torches. 
 Denis assured himself that they had all been making 
 free with the wine-bowl, and were in no mood to be 
 particular about safe-conducts or the niceties of 
 chivalrous war. It was as like as not that they 
 would kill him like a dog and leave him where he fell. 
 The situation was inspiring but nervous. Their 
 own torches would conceal him from sight, he 
 reflected; and he hoped that they would drown the 
 noise of his footsteps with their own empty voices. 
 If he were but silent, fleet and he might evade their 
 notice altogether. 
 
 Unfortunately, as he turned to beat a retreat, his 
 foot rolled upon a pebble; he fell against the wall 
 with an ejaculation, and his sword rang loudly on 
 the stones. Two or three voices demanded who 
 went there some in French, some in English; but 
 Denis made no reply, and ran the faster down the 
 lane. Once upon the terrace, he paused to look back. 
 They still kept calling after him, and just then began 
 to double the pace in pursuit, with a considerable 
 clank of armor, and great tossing of the torchlight 
 to and fro in the narrow jaws of the passage. 
 
 Denis cast a look around and darted into the 
 porch. There he might escape observation, or if 
 
3 io 
 
 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 that were too much to expect was in a capital 
 posture whether for parley or defence. So thinking, 
 he drew his sword and tried to set his back against 
 the door. To his surprise, it yielded behind his 
 weight; and though he turned in a moment, con- 
 tinued to swing back on oiled and noiseless hinges, 
 until it stood wide open on a black interior. When 
 things fall out opportunely for the person concerned 
 he is not apt to be critical about the how or why, his 
 own immediate personal convenience seeming a 
 sufficient reason for the strangest oddities and revo- 
 lutions in our sublunary things; and so Denis, with- 
 out a moment's hesitation, stepped within and 
 partly closed the door behind him to conceal his 
 place of refuge. Nothing was further from his 
 thoughts than to close it altogether; but for some 
 inexplicable reason perhaps by a spring or a 
 weight the ponderous mass of oak whipped itself 
 out of his fingers and clanked to, with a formidable 
 rumble and a noise like the falling of an automatic 
 bar. 
 
 The round, at that very moment, debouched upon 
 the terrace and proceeded to summon him with 
 shouts and curses. He heard them ferreting in the 
 dark corners; the stock of a lance even rattled along 
 the outer surface of the door behind which he stood; 
 but these gentlemen were in too high a humor to be 
 long delayed, and soon made off down a corkscrew 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROITS DOOR 311 
 
 pathway which had escaped Denis's observation, 
 and passed out of sight and hearing along the battle- 
 ments of the town. 
 
 Denis breathed again. He gave them a few 
 minutes' grace for fear of accidents, and then groped 
 about for some means of opening the door and slip- 
 ping forth again. The inner surface was quite 
 smooth, not a handle, not a moulding, not a pro- 
 jection of any sort. He got his finger-nails round the 
 edges and pulled, but the mass was immovable. He 
 shook it, it was as firm as a rock. Denis de Beaulieu 
 frowned and gave vent to a little noiseless whistle. 
 What ailed the door? he wondered. Why was it 
 open? How came it to shut so easily and so effec- 
 tually after him? There was something obscure and 
 underhand about all this that was little to the young 
 man's fancy. It looked like a snare; and yet who 
 could suppose a snare in such a quiet by-street and 
 in a house of so prosperous and even noble an 
 exterior? And yet snare or no snare, intention- 
 ally or unintentionally here he was, prettily 
 trapped; and for the life of him he could see no way 
 out of it again. The darkness began to weigh upon 
 him. He gave ear; all was silent without, but with- 
 in and close by he seemed to catch a faint sighing, 
 a faint sobbing rustle, a little stealthy creak as 
 though many persons were at his side, holding 
 themselves quite still, and governing even their 
 
312 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 respiration with the extreme of slyness. The idea 
 went to his vitals with a shock, and he faced about 
 suddenly as if to defend his life. Then, for the first 
 time, he became aware of a light about the level of 
 his eyes and at some distance in the interior of the 
 house a vertical thread of light, widening towards 
 the bottom, such as might escape between two wings 
 of arras over a doorway. To see anything was a 
 relief to Denis; it was like a piece of solid ground to 
 a man laboring in a morass; his mind seized upon it 
 with avidity; and he stood staring at it and trying 
 to piece together some logical conception of his sur- 
 roundings. Plainly there was a flight of steps 
 ascending from his own level to that of this illu- 
 inated doorway; and indeed he thought he could 
 make out another thread of light, as fine as a needle 
 and as faint as phosphorescence, which might very 
 well be reflected along the polished wood of a hand- 
 rail. Since he had begun to suspect that he was not 
 alone, his heart had continued to beat with smoth- 
 ering violence, and an intolerable desire for action 
 of any sort had possessed itself of his spirit. He was 
 in deadly peril, he believed. What could be more 
 natural than to mount the staircase, lift the curtain, 
 and confront his difficulty at once? At least he 
 would be dealing with something tangible; at least 
 he would be no longer in the dark. He stepped 
 slowly forward with outstretched hands, until his 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 
 
 313 
 
 foot struck the bottom step; then he rapidly scaled 
 the stairs, stood for a moment to compose his expres- 
 sion, lifted the arras and went in. 
 
 He found himself in a large apartment of polished 
 stone. There were three doors; one on each of 
 three sides; all similarly curtained with tapestry. 
 The fourth side was occupied by two large windows 
 and a great stone chimney-piece, carved with the 
 arms of the Maletroits. Denis recognized the 
 bearings, and was gratified to find himself in such 
 good hands. The room was strongly illuminated; 
 but it contained little furniture except a heavy table 
 and a chair or two, the hearth was innocent of fire, 
 and the pavement was but sparsely strewn with 
 rushes clearly many days old. 
 
 On a high chair beside the chimney, and directly 
 facing Denis as he entered, sat a little old gentleman 
 in a fur tippet. He sat with his legs crossed 
 and his hands folded, and a cup of spiced 
 wine stood by his elbow on a bracket on the 
 wall. His countenance had a strongly masculine 
 cast; not properly human, but such as we see in the 
 bull, the goat, or the domestic boar; something 
 equivocal and wheedling, something greedy, brutal, 
 and dangerous. The upper lip was inordinately 
 full, as though swollen by a blow or a toothache; 
 and the smile, the peaked eyebrows, and the small, 
 strong eyes were quaintly and almost comically evil 
 
314 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 in expression. Beautiful white hair hung straight 
 all round his head, like a saint's, and fell in a single 
 curl upon the tippet. His beard and mustache 
 were the pink of venerable sweetness. Age, prob- 
 ably in consequence of inordinate precautions, had 
 left no mark upon his hands; and the Maletroit 
 hand was famous. It would be difficult to imagine 
 anything at once so fleshy and so delicate in design; 
 the taper, sensual fingers were like those of one of 
 Leonardo's women; the fork of the thumb made a 
 dimpled protuberance when closed; the nails were 
 perfectly shaped, and of a dead, surprising whiteness. 
 It rendered his aspect tenfold more redoubtable, 
 that a man with hands like these should keep them 
 devoutly folded in his lap like a virgin martyr 
 that a man with so intense and startling an expres- 
 sion of face should sit patiently on his seat and con- 
 template people with an unwinking stare, like a 
 god, or a god's statue. His quiescence seemed 
 ironical and treacherous, it fitted so poorly with his 
 look. 
 
 Such was Alain, Sire de Maletroit. 
 
 Denis and he looked silently at each other for a 
 second or two. 
 
 "Pray step in," said the Sire de Maletroit. "I 
 have been expecting you all the evening." 
 
 He had not risen, but he accompanied his words 
 with a smile, and a slight but courteous inclination 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 315 
 
 of the head. Partly from the smile, partly from the 
 strange musical murmur with which the Sire pref- 
 aced his observation, Denis felt a strong shudder 
 of disgust go through his marrow. And what with 
 disgust and honest confusion of mind, he could 
 scarcely get words together in reply. 
 
 "I fear," he said, "that this is a double accident. 
 I am not the person you suppose me. It seems you 
 were looking for a visit; but for my part, nothing 
 was further from my thoughts nothing could be 
 more contrary to my wishes than this intrusion." 
 
 "Well, well," replied the old gentleman indul- 
 gently, "here you are, which is the main point. Seat 
 yourself, my friend, and put yourself entirely at 
 your ease. We shall arrange our little affairs pres- 
 ently." 
 
 Denis perceived that the matter was still com- 
 plicated with some misconception, and he hastened 
 to continue his explanations. 
 
 "Your door ..." he began. 
 
 "About my door?" asked the other, raising his 
 peaked eyebrows. "A little piece of ingenuity." 
 And he shrugged his shoulders. "A hospitable 
 fancy ! By your own account, you were not desirous 
 of making my acquaintance. We old people look for 
 such reluctance now and then; and when it touches 
 our honor, we cast about until we find some way of 
 overcoming it. You arrive uninvited, but believe 
 me, very welcome." 
 
316 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "You persist in error, sir," said Denis. " There 
 can be no question between you and me. I am a 
 stranger in this country-side. My name is Denis, 
 damoiseau de Beaulieu. If you see me in your 
 house it is only " 
 
 "My young friend," interrupted the other, "you 
 will permit me to have my own ideas on that subject. 
 They probably differ from yours at the present 
 moment," he added with a leer, "but time will show 
 which of us is in the right." 
 
 Denis was convinced he had to do with a lunatic. 
 He seated himself with a shrug, content to wait the 
 upshot; and a pause ensued, during which he 
 thought he could distinguish a hurried gabbling as 
 of prayer from behind the arras immediately 
 opposite him. Sometimes there seemed to be but 
 one person engaged, sometimes two; and the vehe- 
 mence of the voice, low as it was, seemed to indicate 
 either great haste or an agony of spirit. It occurred 
 to him that this piece of tapestry covered the en- 
 trance to the chapel he had noticed from without. 
 
 The old gentleman meanwhile surveyed Denis 
 from head to foot with a smile, and from time to 
 time emitted little noises like a bird or a mouse, 
 which seemed to indicate a high degree of satis- 
 faction. This state of matters became rapidly in- 
 supportable; and Denis, to put an end to it, re- 
 marked politely that the wind had gone down. 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 317 
 
 The old gentleman fell into a fit of silent laughter, 
 so prolonged and violent that he became quite red 
 in the face. Denis got upon his feet at once, and 
 put on his hat with a flourish. 
 
 "Sir," he said, "if you are in your wits, you have 
 affronted me grossly. If you are out of them, I 
 flatter myself I can find better employment for my 
 brains than to talk with lunatics. My conscience is 
 clear; you have made a fool of me from the first 
 moment; you have refused to hear my explanations; 
 and now there is no power under God will make me 
 stay here any longer; and if I cannot make my way 
 out in a more decent fashion, I will hack your door 
 in pieces with my sword." 
 
 The Sire de Maletroit raised his right hand and 
 wagged it at Denis with the fore and little fingers 
 extended. 
 
 "My dear nephew," he said, "sit down." 
 
 "Nephew!" retorted Denis, "you lie in your 
 throat;" and he snapped his fingers in his face. 
 
 "Sit down, you rogue!" cried the old gentleman, 
 in a sudden, harsh voice, like the barking of a dog. 
 "Do you fancy," he went on, "that when I had 
 made my little contrivance for the door I had 
 stopped short with that? If you prefer to be bound 
 hand and foot till your bones ache, rise and try to 
 go away. If you choose to remain a free young 
 buck, agreeably conversing with an old gentleman - 
 
3l8 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 why, sit where you are in peace, and God be with 
 you." 
 
 "Do you mean I am a prisoner?" demanded 
 Denis. 
 
 "I state the facts," replied the other. "I would 
 rather leave the conclusion to yourself." 
 
 Denis sat down again. Externally he managed to 
 keep pretty calm; but within, he was now boiling 
 with anger, now chilled with apprehension. He no 
 longer felt convinced that he was dealing with a mad- 
 man. And if the old gentleman was sane, what, in 
 God's name, had he to look for? What absurd or 
 tragical adventure had befallen him? What coun- 
 tenance was he to assume? 
 
 While he was thus unpleasantly reflecting, the 
 arras that overhung the chapel door was raised, and 
 a tall priest in his robes came forth and, giving a 
 long, keen stare at Denis, said something in an 
 undertone to Sire de Maletroit. 
 
 "She is in a better frame of spirit?" asked the 
 latter. 
 
 "She is more resigned, messire," replied the 
 priest. 
 
 "Now the Lord help her, she is hard to please!" 
 sneered the old gentleman. "A likely stripling 
 not ill-born and of her own choosing, too. Why, 
 what more would the jade have?" 
 
 "The situation is not usual for a young damsel," 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 
 
 319 
 
 said the other, "and somewhat trying to her 
 blushes." 
 
 "She should have thought of that before she 
 began the dance. It was none of my choosing, God 
 knows that; but since she is in it, by our Lady, she 
 shall carry it to the end." And then addressing 
 Denis, " Monsieur de Beaulieu," he asked, "may I 
 present you to my niece? She has been waiting 
 your arrival, I may say, with even greater impatience 
 than myself." 
 
 Denis had resigned himself with a good grace 
 all he desired was to know the worst of it as speedily 
 as possible; so he rose at once, and bowed in 
 acquiescence. The Sire de Maletroit followed his 
 example and limped, with the assistance of the 
 chaplain's arm, towards the chapel-door. The 
 priest pulled aside the arras, and all three entered. 
 The building had considerable architectural pre- 
 tensions. A light groining sprang from six stout 
 columns, and hung down in two rich pendants from 
 the centre of the vault. The place terminated 
 behind the altar in a round end, embossed and 
 honeycombed with a superfluity of ornament in 
 relief, and pierced by many little windows shaped 
 like stars, trefoils, or wheels. These windows were 
 imperfectly glazed, so that the night air circulated 
 freely in the chapel. The tapers, of which there 
 must have been half a hundred burning on the altar, 
 
320 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 were unmercifully blown about; and the light went 
 through many different phases of brilliancy and 
 semi-eclipse. On the steps in front of the altar 
 knelt a young girl richly attired as a bride. A chill 
 settled over Denis as he observed her costume; he 
 fought with desperate energy against the conclusion 
 that was being thrust upon his mind; it could not 
 it should not be as he feared. 
 
 "Blanche," said the Sire, in his most flute-like 
 tones, "I have brought a friend to see you, my little 
 girl; turn round and give him your pretty hand. 
 It is good to be devout; but it is necessary to be 
 polite, my niece." 
 
 The girl rose to her feet and turned towards the 
 new-comers. She moved all of a piece; and shame 
 and exhaustion were expressed in every line of her 
 fresh young body; and she held her head down and 
 kept her eyes upon the pavement, as she came 
 slowly forward. In the course of her advance, her 
 eyes fell upon Denis de Beaulieu's feet feet of 
 which he was justly vain, be it remarked, and wore 
 in the most elegant accoutrement even while travel- 
 ling. She paused started, as if his yellow boots 
 had conveyed some shocking meaning and 
 glanced suddenly up into the wearer's countenance. 
 Their eyes met; shame gave place to horror and 
 terror in her looks; the blood left her lips; with a 
 piercing scream she covered her face with her hands 
 and sank upon the chapel floor. 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 321 
 
 "That is not the man!" she cried. "My uncle, 
 that is not the man!" 
 
 The Sire de Maletroit chirped agreeably. "Of 
 course not," he said, "I expected as much. It was 
 so unfortunate you could not remember his name." 
 
 "Indeed," she cried, "indeed, I have never seen 
 this person till this moment I have never so 
 much as set eyes upon him I never wish to see 
 him again. Sir," she said, turning to Denis, "if you 
 are a gentleman, you will bear me out. Have I ever 
 seen you have you ever seen me before this 
 accursed hour?" 
 
 "To speak for myself, I have never had that 
 pleasure," answered the young man. "This is the 
 first time, messire, that I have met with your en- 
 gaging niece." 
 
 The old gentleman shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "I am distressed to hear it," he said. "But it is 
 never too late to begin. I had little more acquaint- 
 ance with my own late lady ere I married her; 
 which proves," he added with a grimace, "that 
 these impromptu marriages may often produce an 
 excellent understanding in the long-run. As the 
 bridegroom is to have a voice in the matter, I will 
 give him two hours to make up for lost time before 
 we proceed with the ceremony." And he turned 
 towards the door, followed by the clergyman. 
 
 The girl was on her feet in a moment. "My 
 
322 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 uncle, you cannot be in earnest," she said. "I 
 declare before God I will stab myself rather than 
 be forced on that young man. The heart rises at it; 
 God forbids such marriages; you dishonor your 
 white hair. Oh, my uncle, pity me ! There is not a 
 woman in all the world but would prefer death to 
 such a nuptial. Is it possible," she added, faltering 
 "is it possible that you do not believe me that 
 you still think this" and she pointed at Denis 
 with a tremor of anger and contempt "that you 
 still think this to be the man?" 
 
 "Frankly," said the old gentleman, pausing on 
 the threshold, "I do. But let me explain to you 
 once for all, Blanche de Maletroit, my way of think- 
 ing about this affair. When you took it into your 
 head to dishonor my family and the name that I 
 have borne, in peace and war, for more than three- 
 score years, you forfeited, not only the right to 
 question my designs, but that of looking me in the 
 face. If your father had been alive, he would have 
 spat on you and turned you out of doors. His was 
 the hand of iron. You may bless your God you 
 have only to deal with the hand of velvet, made- 
 moiselle. It was my duty to get you married with- 
 out delay. Out of pure goodwill, I have tried to 
 find your own gallant for you. And I believe I have 
 succeeded. But before God and all the holy angels, 
 Blanche de Maletroit, if I have not, I care not one 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 323 
 
 jack-straw. So let me recommend you to be polite 
 to our young friend; for upon my word, your next 
 groom may be less appetizing." 
 
 And with that he went out, with the chaplain at 
 his heels; and the arras fell behind the pair. 
 
 The girl turned upon Denis with flashing eyes. 
 
 "And what, sir," she demanded, "may be the 
 meaning of all this?" 
 
 "God knows," returned Denis gloomily. "I am 
 a prisoner in this house, which seems full of mad 
 people. More I know not; and nothing do I under- 
 stand." 
 
 "And pray how came you here?" she asked. 
 
 He told her as briefly as he could. " For the rest," 
 he added, "perhaps you will follow my example, and 
 tell me the answer to all these riddles, and what, in 
 God's name, is like to be the end of it." 
 
 She stood silent for a little, and he could see her 
 lips tremble and her tearless eyes burn with a 
 feverish lustre. Then she pressed her forehead in 
 both hands. 
 
 "Alas, how my head aches!" she said wearily, 
 "to say nothing of my poor heart! But it is due to 
 you to know my story, unmaidenly as it must seem. 
 I am called Blanche de Maletroit : I have been with- 
 out father or mother for oh ! for as long as I can 
 recollect, and indeed I have been most unhappy all 
 my life. Three months ago a young captain began 
 
324 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 to stand near me every day in church. I could see 
 that I pleased him; I am much to blame, but I was 
 so glad that any one should love me; and when he 
 passed me a letter, I took it home with me and read 
 it with great pleasure. Since that time he has 
 written many. He was so anxious to speak with 
 me, poor fellow! and kept asking me to leave the 
 door open some evening that we might have two 
 words upon the stair. For he knew how much my 
 uncle trusted me." She gave something like a sob 
 at that, and it was a moment before she could go on. 
 "My uncle is a hard man, but he is very shrewd," 
 she said at last. "He has performed many feats in 
 war, and was a great person at court, and much 
 trusted by Queen Isabeau in old days. How he came 
 to suspect me I cannot tell; but it is hard to keep 
 anything from his knowledge; and this morning, as 
 we came from mass, he took my hand in his, forced 
 it open, and read my little billet, walking by my side 
 all the while. When he had finished, he gave it back 
 to me with great politeness. It contained another 
 request to have the door left open; and this has 
 been the ruin of us all. My uncle kept me strictly 
 in my room until evening, and then ordered me to 
 dress myself as you see me a hard mockery for a 
 young girl, do you not think so? I suppose, when he 
 could not prevail with me to tell him the young 
 captain's name, he must have laid a trap for him: 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 
 
 325 
 
 into which, alas! you have fallen in the anger of 
 God. I looked for much confusion; for how could I 
 tell whether he was willing to take me for his wife 
 on these sharp terms? He might have been trifling 
 with me from the first; or I might have made myself 
 too cheap in his eyes. But truly I had not looked 
 for such a shameful punishment as this! I could not 
 think that God would let a girl be so disgraced before 
 a young man. And now I have told you all; and I 
 can scarcely hope that you will not despise me." 
 
 Denis made her a respectful inclination. 
 
 "Madam," he said, "you have honored me by 
 your confidence. It remains for me to prove that I 
 am not unworthy of the honor. Is Messire de 
 Maletroit at hand?" 
 
 "I believe he is writing in the salle without," she 
 answered. 
 
 "May I lead you thither, madam?" asked Denis, 
 offering his hand with his most courtly bearing. 
 
 She accepted it; and the pair passed out of the 
 chapel, Blanche in a very drooping and shamefast 
 condition, but Denis strutting and ruffling in the 
 consciousness of a mission, and the boyish certainty 
 of accomplishing it with honor. 
 
 The Sire de Maletroit rose to meet them with an 
 ironical obeisance. 
 
 "Sir," said Denis, with the grandest possible air, 
 "I believe I am to have some say in the matter of 
 
326 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 this marriage; and let me tell you at once, I will be 
 rio party to forcing the inclination of this young 
 lady. Had it been freely offered to me, I should 
 have been proud to accept her hand, for I perceive 
 she is as good as she is beautiful; but as things are, 
 I have now the honor, messire, of refusing.' 7 
 
 Blanche looked at him with gratitude in her eyes; 
 but the old gentleman only smiled and smiled, until 
 his smile grew positively sickening toDenis. 
 
 "I am afraid," he said, "Monsieur de Beaulieu, 
 that you do not perfectly understand the choice I 
 have to offer you. Follow me, I beseech you, to this 
 window." And he led the way to one of the large 
 windows which stood open on the night. "You 
 observe," he went on, "there is an iron ring in the 
 upper masonry, and reeved through that a very 
 efficacious rope. Now, mark my words: if you 
 should find your disinclination to my niece's person 
 insurmountable, I shall have you hanged out of this 
 window before sunrise. I shall only proceed to such 
 an extremity with the greatest regret, you may 
 believe me. For it is not at all your death that I 
 desire, but my niece's establishment in life. At the 
 same time, it must come to that if you prove 
 obstinate. Your family, Monsieur de Beaulieu, is 
 very well in its way; but if you sprang from Char- 
 lemagne, you should not refuse the hand of a Male- 
 troit with impunity not if she had been as common 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 327 
 
 as the Paris road not if she were as hideous as the 
 gargoyle over my door. Neither my niece nor you, 
 nor my own private feelings, move me at all in this 
 matter. The honor of my house has been com- 
 promised; I believe you to be the guilty person ; at 
 least you are now in the secret; and you can hardly 
 wonder if I request you to wipe out the stain. If 
 you will not, your blood be on your own head! It 
 will be no great satisfaction to me to have your 
 interesting relics kicking their heels in the breeze 
 below my windows; but half a loaf is better than no 
 bread, and if I cannot cure the dishonor, I shall at 
 least stop the scandal." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 "I believe there are other ways of settling such 
 imbroglios among gentlemen," said Denis. "You 
 wear a sword, and I hear you have used it with 
 distinction." 
 
 The Sire de Maletroit made a signal to the chap- 
 lain, who crossed the room with long, silent strides 
 and raised the arras over the third of the three doors. 
 It was only a moment before he let it fall again; but 
 Denis had time to see a dusky passage full of armed 
 men. 
 
 "When I was a little younger, I should have been 
 delighted to honor you, Monsieur de Beaulieu," 
 said Sire Alain; "but I am now too old. Faithful 
 retainers are the sinews of age, and I must employ 
 
328 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 the strength I have. This is one of the hardest 
 things to swallow as a man grows up in years; but 
 with a little patience, even this becomes habitual. 
 You and the lady seem to prefer the salle for what 
 remains of your two hours; and as I have no desire 
 to cross your preference, I shall resign it to your use 
 with all the pleasure in the world. No haste!" he 
 added, holding up his hand, as he saw a dangerous 
 look come into Denis de Beaulieu's face. "If your 
 mind revolts against hanging, it will be time enough 
 two hours hence to throw yourself out of the window 
 or upon the pikes of my retainers. Two hours of 
 life are always two hours. A great many things may 
 turn up in even as little a while as that. And, 
 besides, if I understand her appearance, my niece 
 has still something to say to you. You will not dis- 
 figure your last hours by a want of politeness to a 
 lady?" 
 
 Denis looked at Blanche, and she made him an 
 imploring gesture. 
 
 It is likely that the old gentleman was hugely 
 pleased at this symptom of an understanding; for he 
 smiled on both, and added sweetly: "If you will 
 give me your word of honor, Monsieur de Beaulieu, 
 to await my return at the end of the two hours before 
 attempting anything desperate, I shall withdraw my 
 retainers, and let you speak in greater privacy with 
 mademoiselle." 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 329 
 
 Denis again glanced at the girl, who seemed to 
 beseech him to agree. 
 
 "I give you my word of honor," he said. 
 
 Messire de Maletroit bowed, and proceeded to 
 limp about the apartment, clearing his throat the 
 while with that odd musical chirp which had already 
 grown so irritating in the ears of Denis de Beaulieu. 
 He first possessed himself of some papers which lay 
 upon the table; then he went to the mouth of the 
 passage and appeared to give an order to the men 
 behind the arras; and lastly, he hobbled out through 
 the door by which Denis had come in, turning upon 
 the threshold to address a last smiling bow to the 
 young couple, and followed by the chaplain with a 
 hand lamp. 
 
 No sooner were they alone than Blanche advanced 
 toward Denis with her hands extended. Her face 
 was flushed and excited, and her eyes shone with 
 tears. 
 
 "You shall not die!" she said, "you shall marry 
 me after all." 
 
 "You seem to think, madam," replied Denis, 
 "that I stand much in fear of death." 
 
 "Oh no, no," she said, "I see you are no pol- 
 troon. It is for my own sake I could not bear to 
 have you slain for such a scruple." 
 
 "I am afraid," returned Denis, "that you under^ 
 rate the difficulty, madam. What you may be 
 
330 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 too generous to refuse, I may be too proud to accept. 
 In a moment of noble feeling towards me, you 
 forgot what you perhaps owe to others." 
 
 He had the decency to keep his eyes upon the 
 floor as he said this, and after he had finished, so as 
 not to spy upon her confusion. She stood silent for 
 a moment, then walked suddenly away, and falling 
 on her uncle's chair, fairly burst out sobbing. Denis 
 was in the acme of embarrassment. He looked 
 round, as if to seek for inspiration, and seeing a 
 stool, plumped down upon it for something to do. 
 There he. sat, playing with the guard of his rapier, 
 and wishing himself dead a thousand times over, 
 and buried in the nastiest kitchen-heap in France. 
 His eyes wandered round the apartment, but found 
 nothing to arrest them. There were such wide 
 spaces between the furniture, the light fell so badly 
 and cheerlessly over all, the dark outside air looked 
 in so coldly through the windows, that he thought he 
 had never seen a church so vast, nor a tomb so 
 melancholy. The regular sobs of Blanche de Male- 
 troit measured out the time like the ticking of a 
 clock. He read the device upon the shield over and 
 over again, until his eyes became obscured; he 
 stared into shadowy corners until he imagined they 
 were swarming with horrible animals; and every 
 now and again he awoke with a start, to remember 
 that his last two hours were running, and death was 
 on the march. 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROITS DOOR 
 
 351 
 
 Oftener and oftener, as the time went on, did his 
 glance settle on the girl herself. Her face was 
 bowed forward and covered with her hands, and she 
 was shaken at intervals by the convulsive hiccup of 
 grief. Even thus she was not an unpleasant object 
 to dwell upon, so plump and yet so fine, with a 
 warm brown skin, and the most beautiful hair, 
 Denis thought, in the whole world of womankind. 
 Her hands were like her uncle's; but they were more 
 in place at the end of her young arms, and looked 
 infinitely soft and caressing. He remembered how 
 her blue eyes had shone upon him, full of anger, pity, 
 and innocence. And the more he dwelt on her per- 
 fections, the uglier death looked, and the more 
 deeply was he smitten with penitence at her con- 
 tinued tears. Now he felt that no man could have 
 the courage to leave a world which contained so 
 beautiful a creature; and now he would have given 
 forty minutes of his last hour to have unsaid his 
 cruel speech. 
 
 Suddenly a hoarse and ragged peal of cockcrow 
 rose to their ears from the dark valley below the 
 windows. And this shattering noise in the silence of 
 all around was like a light in a dark place, and shook 
 them both out of their reflections. 
 
 "Alas, can I do nothing to help you?" she said, 
 looking up. 
 
 "Madam," replied Denis, with a fine irrelevancy, 
 
332 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "if I have said anything to wound you, believe me, 
 it was for your own sake and not for mine." 
 
 She thanked him with a tearful look. 
 
 "I feel your position cruelly," he went on. "The 
 world has been bitter hard on you. Your uncle is a 
 disgrace to mankind. Believe me, madam, there is 
 no young gentleman in all France but would be glad 
 of my opportunity, to die in doing you a momentary 
 service." 
 
 "I know already that you can be very brave and 
 generous," she answered. "What I want to know is 
 whether I can serve you now or afterwards," 
 she added, with a quaver. 
 
 "Most certainly," he answered with a smile. 
 "Let me sit beside you as if I were a friend, instead 
 of a foolish intruder; try to forget how awkwardly 
 we are placed to one another; make my last mo- 
 ments go pleasantly; and you will do me the chief 
 service possible." 
 
 "You are very gallant," she added, with a yet 
 deeper sadness . . . "very gallant . . . and it 
 somehow pains me. But draw nearer, if you please; 
 and if you find anything to say to me, you will at 
 least make certain of a very friendly listener. 
 Ah! Monsieur ' de Beaulieu," she broke forth 
 "ah! Monsieur de Beaulieu, how can I look you in 
 the face?" And she fell to weeping again with a 
 renewed effusion. 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 333 
 
 "Madam," said Denis, taking her hand in both of 
 his, "reflect on the little time I have before me, and 
 the great bitterness into which I am cast by the 
 sight of your distress. Spare me, in my last mo- 
 ments, the spectacle of what I cannot cure even with 
 the sacrifice of my life." 
 
 " I am very selfish," answered Blanche. " I will be 
 braver, Monsieur de Beaulieu, for your sake. But 
 think if I can do you no kindness in the future if 
 you have no friends to whom I could carry your 
 adieux. Charge me as heavily as you can; every 
 burden will lighten, by so little, the invaluable 
 gratitude I owe you. Put it in my power to do 
 something more for you than weep." 
 
 "My mother is married again, and has a young 
 family to care for. My brother Guichard will 
 inherit my fiefs; and if I am not in error, that will 
 content him amply for my death. Life is a little 
 vapor that passeth away, as we are told by those in 
 holy orders. When a man is in a fair way and sees 
 all life open in front of him, he seems to himself to 
 make a very important figure in the world. His 
 horse whinnies to him; the trumpets blow and the 
 girls look out of window as he rides into town before 
 his company; he receives many assurances of trust 
 and regard sometimes by express in a letter 
 sometimes face to face, with persons of great conse- 
 quence falling on his neck. It is not wonderful if 
 
334 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 his head is turned for a time. But once he is dead, 
 were he as brave as Hercules or as wise as Solomon, 
 he is soon forgotten. It is not ten years since my 
 father fell, with many other knights around him, 
 in a very fierce encounter, and I do not think that 
 any one of them, nor so much as the name of the 
 fight, is now remembered. No, no, madam, the 
 nearer you come to it, you see that death is a dark 
 and dusty corner, where a man gets into his tomb 
 and has the door shut after him till the judgment 
 day. I have few friends just now, and once I am 
 dead I shall have none." 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur de Beaulieu!" she exclaimed, 
 "you forget Blanche de Maletroit." 
 
 "You have a sweet nature, madam, and you are 
 pleased to estimate a little service far beyond its 
 worth." 
 
 " It is not that," she answered. "You mistake me 
 if you think I am so easily touched by my own con- 
 cerns. I say so, because you are the noblest man I 
 have ever met; because I recognize in you a spirit 
 that would have made even a common person 
 famous in the land." 
 
 "And yet here I die in a mousetrap with no 
 more noise about it than my own squeaking," 
 answered he. 
 
 A look of pain crossed her face, and she was silent 
 for a little while. Then a light came into her eyes, 
 and with a smile she spoke again. 
 
THE SIRE DE MAL^TROIT'S DOOR 335 
 
 "I cannot have my champion think meanly of 
 himself. Any one who gives his life for another will 
 be met in Paradise by all the heralds and angels of 
 the Lord God. And you have no such cause to 
 hang your head. For . . . pray, do you think me 
 beautiful?" she asked, with a deep flush. 
 
 "Indeed, madam, I do," he said. 
 
 "I am glad of that," she answered heartily. "Do 
 you think there are many men in France who have 
 been asked in marriage by a beautiful maiden 
 with her own lips and who have refused her to 
 her face? I know you men would half despise such 
 a triumph; but believe me, we women know more of 
 what is precious in love. There is nothing that 
 should set a person higher in his own esteem; and we 
 women would prize nothing more dearly." 
 
 "You are very good," he said; "but you cannot 
 make me forget that I was asked in pity and not for 
 love." 
 
 "I am not so sure of that," she replied, holding 
 down her head. "Hear me to an end, Monsieur de 
 Beaulieu. I know how you must despise me; I feel 
 you are right to do so; I am too poor a creature to 
 occupy one thought of your mind, although, alas! 
 you must die for me this morning. But when I 
 asked you to marry me, indded, and indeed, it was 
 because I respected and admired you, and loved you 
 with my whole soul, from the very moment that 
 
336 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 you took my part against my uncle. If you had 
 seen yourself, and how noble you looked, you would 
 pity rather than despise me. And now," she went 
 on, hurriedly checking him with her hand, "although 
 I have laid aside all reserve and told you so much, 
 remember that I know your sentiments towards me 
 already. I would not, believe me, being nobly born, 
 weary you with importunities into consent. I too 
 have a pride of my own; and I declare before the 
 holy mother of God, if you should now go back from 
 your word already given, I would no more marry you 
 than I would marry my uncle's groom." 
 
 Denis smiled a little bitterly. 
 
 "It is a small love," he said, "that shies at a little 
 pride." 
 
 She made no answer, although she probably had 
 her own thoughts. 
 
 "Come hither to the window," he said, with a 
 sigh. "Here is the dawn." 
 
 And indeed the dawn was already beginning. The 
 hollow of the sky was full of essential daylight, 
 colorless and clean; and the valley underneath was 
 flooded with a gray reflection. A few thin vapors 
 clung in the coves of the forest or lay along the wind- 
 ing course of the river. The scene disengaged a sur- 
 prising effect of stillness, which was hardly inter- 
 rupted when the cocks began once more to crow 
 among the steadings. Perhaps the same fellow 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 337 
 
 who had made so horrid a clangor in the darkness 
 not half-an-hour before, now sent up the merriest 
 cheer to greet the coming day. A little wind went 
 bustling and eddying among the tree-tops un- 
 derneath the windows. And still the daylight kept 
 flooding insensibly out of the east, which was soon 
 to grow incandescent and cast up that red-hot 
 cannon ball, the rising sun. 
 
 Denis looked out over all this with a bit of a 
 shiver. He had taken her hand, and retained it in 
 his almost unconsciously. 
 
 "Has the day begun already?" she said; and 
 then, illogically enough: "the night has been so 
 long! Alas! what shall we say to my uncle when he 
 returns?" 
 
 "What you will," said Denis, and he pressed her 
 fingers in his. 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 "Blanche," he said, with a swift, uncertain, pas- 
 sionate utterance, "you have seen whether I fear 
 death. You must know well enough that I would 
 as gladly leap out of that window into the empty air 
 as lay a finger on you without your free and full 
 consent. But if you care for me at all do not let me 
 lose my life in a misapprehension; for I love you 
 better than the whole world; and though I will die 
 for you blithely, it would be like all the joys of 
 Paradise to live on and spend my life in your 
 
338 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 As he stopped speaking, a bell began to ring 
 loudly in the interior of the house; and a clatter of 
 armor in the corridor showed that the retainers were 
 returning to their post, and the two hours were at an 
 end. 
 
 "After all that you have heard?" she whispered, 
 leaning towards him with her lips and eyes. 
 
 "I have heard nothing," he replied. 
 
 "The captain's name was Florimond de Champ- 
 divers," she said in his ear. 
 
 "I did not hear it," he answered, taking her supple 
 body in his arms and covering her wet face with 
 kisses. 
 
 A melodious chirping was audible behind, fol- 
 lowed by a beautiful chuckle, and the voice of 
 Messire de Maletroit wished his new nephew a good 
 morning. 
 
MARKHEIM 
 BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
MARKHEIM 
 
 "YES," said the dealer, "our windfalls are of 
 various kinds. Some customers are ignorant, and then 
 I touch a dividend on my superior knowledge. Some 
 are dishonest/' and here he held up the candle, so 
 that the light fell strongly on his visitor, "and in 
 that case," he continued, "I profit by my virtue." 
 
 Markheim had but just entered from the daylight 
 streets, and his eyes had not yet grown familiar with 
 the mingled shine and darkness in the shop. At 
 these pointed words, and before the near presence of 
 the flame, he blinked painfully and looked aside. 
 
 The dealer chuckled. "You come to me on 
 Christmas Day," he resumed, "when you know 
 that I am alone in my house, put up my shutters, 
 and make a point of refusing business. Well, you 
 will have to pay for that; you will have to pay for 
 my loss of time, when I should be 'balancing my 
 books; you will have to pay, besides, for~arkind of 
 manner that I remark in you to-day very strongly. 
 I am the essence of discretion, and ask no awkward 
 questions; but when a customer cannot look me 
 in the eye, he has to pay for it." The dealer once 
 more chuckled; and then, changing to his usual 
 business voice, though still with a note of irony, 
 34 i 
 
342 
 
 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "You can give, as usual, a clear account of how you 
 came into the possession of the object?" he 
 continued. " Still your uncle's cabinet? A re- 
 markable collector, sir!" 
 
 And the little pale, round-shouldered dealer stood 
 almost on tip-toe, looking over the top of his gold 
 spectacles, and nodding his head with every mark of 
 disbelief. Markheim returned his gaze with one of 
 infinite pity, and a touch of horror. 
 
 "This time," said he, "you are in error. I have 
 not come to sell, but to buy. I have no curios to 
 dispose of; my uncle's cabinet is bare to the wain- 
 scot; even were it still intact, I have done well on 
 the Stock Exchange, and should more likely add to 
 it than otherwise, and my errand to-day is simplicity 
 itself. I seek a Christmas present for a lady," he 
 continued, waxing more fluent as he struck into the 
 speech he had prepared; "and certainly I owe you 
 every excuse for thus disturbing you upon so small a 
 matter. But the thing was neglected yesterday; 
 I must produce my little compliment at dinner; 
 and, as you very well know, a rich marriage is not 
 a thing to be neglected." 
 
 There followed a pause, during which the dealer 
 seemed to weigh this statement incredulously. The 
 ticking of many clocks among the curious lumber of 
 the shop, and the faint rushing of the cabs in a near 
 thoroughfare, filled up the interval of silence. 
 
MARKHEIM 343 
 
 "Well, sir," said the dealer, " be it so. You are an 
 old customer, after all; and if, as you say, you have 
 the chance of a good marriage, far be it from me to be 
 an obstacle. Here is a nice thing for a lady now," he 
 went on, "this hand glass fifteenth century, 
 warranted; comes from a good collection, too; but 
 I reserve the name, in the interests of my customer, 
 who was just like yourself, my dear sir, the nephew 
 and sole heir of a remarkable collector." 
 
 The dealer, while he thus ran on in his dry and 
 biting voice, had stooped to take the object from its 
 place; and, as he had done so, a shock had passed 
 through Markheim, a start both of hand and foot, a 
 sudden leap of many tumultuous passions to the 
 face. It passed as swiftly as it came, and left no 
 trace beyond a certain trembling of the hand that 
 now received the glass. 
 
 "A glass," he said hoarsely, and then paused, and 
 repeated it more clearly. "A glass? For Christmas? 
 Surely not!" 
 
 "And why not?" cried the dealer. "Why not a 
 glass?" 
 
 Markheim was looking upon him with an in- 
 definable expression. "You ask me why not?" he 
 said. "Why, look here look in it look at 
 yourself! Do you like to see it? No! nor I nor 
 any man." 
 
 The little man had jumped back when Markheim 
 
344 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 had so suddenly confronted him with the mirror; 
 but now, perceiving there was nothing worse on 
 hand, he chuckled. "Your future lady, sir, must 
 be pretty hard favored," said he. 
 
 "I ask you," said Markheim, "for a Christmas 
 present, and you give me this this damned 
 reminder of years, and sins and follies this 
 hand-conscience! Did you mean it? Had you a 
 thought in your mind? Tell me. It will be better 
 for you if you do. Come, tell me about yourself. 
 I hazard a guess now, that you are in secret a very 
 charitable man?" 
 
 The dealer looked closely at his companion. It 
 was very odd, Markheim did not appear to be 
 laughing; there was something in his face like an 
 eager sparkle of hope, but nothing of mirth. 
 
 "What are you driving at?" the dealer asked. 
 
 "Not charitable?" returned the other gloomily. 
 "Not charitable; not pious; not scrupulous; un- 
 loving, unbeloved; a hand to get money, a safe to 
 keep it. Is that all? Dear God, man, is that all?" 
 
 "I will tell you what it is," began the dealer, with 
 some sharpness, and then broke off again into a 
 chuckle. "But I see this is a love match of yours, 
 and you have been drinking the lady's health." 
 
 "Ah!" cried Markheim, with a strange curiosity. 
 "Ah, have you been in love? Tell me about that." 
 
 "I," cried the dealer. " I in love ! I never had the 
 
MARKHEIM 345 
 
 time, nor have I the time to-day for all this nonsense. 
 Will you take the glass?" 
 
 " Where is the hurry? " returned Markheim. " It 
 is very pleasant to stand here talking; and life is so 
 short and insecure that I would not hurry away from 
 any pleasure no, not even from so mild a one as 
 this. We should rather cling, cling to what little we 
 can get, like a man at a cliff's edge. Every second 
 is a cliff, if you think upon it a cliff a mile high 
 high enough, if we fall, to dash us out of every 
 feature of humanity. Hence it is best to talk 
 pleasantly. Let us talk of each other: why should 
 we wear this mask? Let us be confidential. Who 
 knows, we might become friends?" 
 
 "I have just one word to say to you," said the 
 dealer. "Either make your purchase, or walk out 
 of my shop!" 
 
 "True, true," said Markheim. "Enough fooling. 
 To business. Show me something else." 
 
 The dealer stooped once more, this time to replace 
 the glass upon the shelf, his thin blond hair falling 
 over his eyes as he did so. Markheim moved a little 
 nearer, with one hand in the pocket of his greatcoat; 
 he drew himself up and filled his lungs; at the same 
 time many different emotions were depicted to- 
 gether on his face terror, horror, and resolve, 
 fascination and a physical repulsion; and through a 
 haggard lift of his upper lip, his teeth looked out. 
 
346 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 "This, perhaps, may suit," observed the dealer; 
 and then, as he began to re-arise, Markheim 
 bounded from behind upon his victim. The long, 
 skewerlike dagger flashed and fell. The dealer 
 struggled like a hen, striking his temple on the shelf, 
 and then tumbled on the floor in a heap. 
 
 Time had some score of small voices in that shop,, 
 some stately and slow as was becoming to their great 
 age; others garrulous and hurried. All these told 
 out the seconds in an intricate chorus of tickings. 
 Then the passage of a lad's feet, heavily running on 
 the pavement, broke in upon these smaller voices 
 and startled Markheim into the consciousness of his 
 surroundings. He looked about him awfully. The 
 candle stood on the counter, its flame solemnly 
 wagging in a draught; and by that inconsiderable 
 movement, the whole room was filled with noiseless 
 bustle and kept heaving like a sea: the tall shadows 
 nodding, the gross blots of darkness swelling and 
 dwindling as with respiration, the faces of the 
 portraits and the china gods changing and wavering 
 like images in water. The inner door stood ajar, 
 and peered into that leaguer of shadows with a long 
 slit of daylight like a pointing finger. 
 
 From these fear-stricken rovings, Markheim's 
 eyes returned to the body of his victim, where it 
 lay both humped and sprawling, incredibly small 
 and strangely meaner than in life. In these poor, 
 
MARKHEIM 347 
 
 miserly clothes, in that ungainly attitude, the 
 dealer lay like so much sawdust. Markheim had 
 feared to see it, and, lo! it was nothing. And yet, 
 as he gazed, this bundle of old clothes and pool of 
 blood began to find eloquent voices. There it must 
 lie; there was none to work the cunning hinges or 
 direct the miracle of locomotion there it must lie 
 till it was found. Found! ay, and then? Then 
 would this dead flesh lift up a cry that would ring 
 over England, and fill the world with the echoes of 
 pursuit. Ay, dead or not, this was still the enemy. 
 "Time was that when the brains were out," he 
 thought; and the first word struck into his mind. 
 Time, now that the deed was accomplished time, 
 which had closed for the victim, had become instant 
 and momentous for the slayer. 
 
 The thought was yet in his mind, when, first one 
 and then another, -with every variety of pace and 
 voice one deep as the bell from a cathedral 
 turret, another ringing on its treble notes the prelude 
 of a waltz the clocks began to strike the hour of 
 three in the afternoon. 
 
 The sudden outbreak of so many tongues in that 
 dumb chamber staggered him. He began to bestir 
 himself, going to and fro with the candle, be- 
 leaguered by moving shadows, and startled to the 
 soul by chance reflections. In many rich mirrors, 
 some of home design, some from Venice or Amster- 
 
348 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 dam, he saw his face repeated and repeated, as it 
 were an army of spies; his own eyes met and 
 detected him; and the sound of his own steps, 
 lightly as they fell, vexed the surrounding quiet. 
 And still ; as he continued to fill his pockets, his 
 mind accused him with a sickening iteration, of the 
 thousand faults of his design. He should have 
 chosen a more quiet hour; he should have prepared 
 an alibi; he should not have used a knife; he 
 should have been more cautious, and only bound 
 and gagged the dealer, and not killed him; he 
 should have been more bold, and killed the servant 
 also; he should have done all things otherwise: 
 poignant regrets, weary, incessant toiling of the 
 mind to change what was unchangeable, to plan 
 what was now useless, to be the architect of the 
 irrevocable past. Meanwhile, and behind all this 
 activity, brute terrors, like the scurrying of rats in 
 a deserted attic, filled the more remote chambers of 
 his brain with riot; the hand of the constable 
 would fall heavy on his shoulder, and his nerves 
 would jerk like a hooked fish; or he beheld, in 
 galloping defile, the dock, the prison, the gallows, 
 and the black coffin. 
 
 Terror of the people in the street sat down before 
 his mind like a besieging army. It was impossible, 
 he thought, but that some rumor of the struggle 
 must have reached their ears and set on edges their 
 
MARKHEIM 349 
 
 curiosity; and now, in all the neighboring houses, 
 he divined them sitting motionless and with uplifted 
 ear solitary people, condemned to spend Christ- 
 mas dwelling alone on memories of the past, and 
 now startlingly recalled from that tender exercise; 
 happy family parties, struck into silence round the 
 table, the mother still with raised finger: every 
 degree and age and humor, but all, by their own 
 hearths, prying and hearkening and weaving the 
 rope that was to hang him. Sometimes it seemed 
 to him he could not move too softly; the clink of the 
 tall Bohemian goblets rang out loudly like a bell; 
 and alarmed by the bigness of the ticking, he was 
 tempted to stop the clocks. And then, again, with a 
 swift transition of his terrors, the very silence of the 
 place appeared a source of peril, and a thing to strike 
 and freeze the passer-by; and he would step more 
 boldly, and bustle aloud among the contents of the 
 shop, and imitate, with elaborate bravado, the 
 movements of a busy man at ease in his own house. 
 But he was now so pulled about by different 
 alarms that, while one portion of his mind was still 
 alert and cunning, another trembled on the brink of 
 lunacy. One hallucination in particular took a 
 strong hold on his credulity. The neighbor 
 hearkening with white face beside his window, the 
 passer-by arrested by a horrible surmise on the 
 pavement these could at worst suspect, they 
 
350 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 could not know; through the brick walls and 
 shuttered windows only sounds could penetrate. 
 But here, within the house, was he alone? He 
 knew he was; he had watched the servant set forth 
 sweet-hearting, in her poor best, "out for the day" 
 written in every ribbon and smile. Yes, he was 
 alone, of course; and yet, in the bulk of empty 
 house above him, he could surely hear a stir of 
 delicate footing he was surely conscious, in- 
 explicably conscious of some presence. Ay, surely; 
 to every room and corner of the house his imagi- 
 nation followed it; and now it was a faceless thing, 
 and yet had eyes to see with; and again it was a 
 shadow of himself; and yet again behold the image 
 of the dead dealer, reinspired with cunning and 
 hatred. 
 
 At times, with a strong effort, he would glance at 
 the open door which still seemed to repel his eyes. 
 The house was tall, the skylight small and dirty, the 
 day blind with fog; and the light that filtered down 
 to the ground story was exceedingly faint, and 
 showed dimly on the threshold of the shop. And 
 yet, in that strip of doubtful brightness, did there 
 not hang wavering a shadow? 
 
 Suddenly, from the street outside, a very jovial 
 gentleman began to beat with a staff on the shop- 
 door, accompanying his blows with shouts and 
 railleries in which the dealer was continually 
 
MARKHEIM 351 
 
 called upon by name. Markheim, smitten into ice, 
 glanced at the dead man. But no! he lay quite 
 still; he was fled away far beyond earshot of these 
 blows and shoutings; he was sunk beneath seas of 
 silence; and his name, which would once have 
 caught his notice above the howling of a storm, had 
 become an empty sound. And presently the 
 jovial gentleman desisted from his knocking and 
 departed. 
 
 Here was a broad hint to hurry what remained to 
 be done, to get forth from this accusing neighbor- 
 hood, to plunge into a bath of London multitudes, 
 and to reach, on the other side of day, that haven of 
 safety and apparent innocence his bed. One 
 visitor had come: at any moment another might 
 follow and be more obstinate. To have done the 
 deed, and yet not to reap the profit, would be too 
 abhorrent a failure. The money, that was now 
 Markheim's concern; and as a means to that, the 
 keys. 
 
 He glanced over his shoulder at the open door, 
 where the shadow was still lingering and shivering; 
 and with no conscious repugnance of the mind, yet 
 with a tremor of the belly, he drew near the body of 
 his victim. The human character had quite 
 departed. Like a suit half-stuffed with bran, the 
 limbs lay scattered, the trunk doubled, on the floor; 
 and yet the thing repelled him. Although so dingy 
 
352 
 
 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 and inconsiderable to the eye, he feared it might 
 have more significance to the touch. He took the 
 body by the shoulders, and turned it on its back. 
 It was strangely light and supple, and the limbs, as 
 if they had been broken, fell into the oddest postures. 
 The face was robbed of all expression; but it was 
 as pale as wax, and shockingly smeared with blood 
 about one temple. That was, for Markheim, the 
 one displeasing circumstance. It carried him back, 
 upon the instant, to a certain fair-day in a fishers' 
 village: a gray day, a piping wind, a crowd upon the 
 street, the blare of brasses, the booming of drums, 
 the nasal voice of a ballad singer; and a boy going 
 to and fro, buried over head in the crowd and 
 divided between interest and fear, until, coming out 
 upon the chief place of concourse, he beheld a booth 
 and a great screen with pictures, dismally designed, 
 garishly colored: Brownrigg with her apprentice; 
 the Mannings with their murdered guest; Weare in 
 the death-grip of Thurtell; and a score besides of 
 famous crimes. The thing was as clear as an 
 illusion; he was once again that little boy; he was 
 looking once again, and with the same sense of 
 physical revolt, at these vile pictures; he was still 
 stunned by the thumping of the drums. A bar of 
 that day's music returned upon his memory; and 
 at that, for the first time, a qualm came over him, a 
 breath of nausea, a sudden weakness of the joints, 
 which he must instantly resist and conquer. 
 
MARKHEIM 353 
 
 He judged it more prudent to confront than to 
 flee from these considerations; looking the more 
 hardily in the dead face, bending his mind to realise 
 the nature and greatness of his crime. So little a 
 while ago that face had moved with every change of 
 sentiment, that pale mouth had spoken, that body 
 had been all on fire with governable energies; and 
 now, and by his act, that piece of life had been 
 arrested, as the horologist, with interjected finger, 
 arrests the beating of the clock. So he reasoned in 
 vain; he could rise to no more remorseful conscious- 
 ness; the same heart which had shuddered before 
 the painted effigies of crime, looked on its reality 
 unmoved. At best, he felt a gleam of pity for one 
 who had been endowed in vain with all those 
 faculties that can make the world a garden of 
 enchantment, one who had never lived and who 
 was now dead. But of penitence, no, not a tremor. 
 
 With that, shaking himself clear of these con- 
 siderations, he found the keys and advanced towards 
 the open door of the shop. Outside, it had begun to 
 rain smartly; and the sound of the shower upon the 
 roof had banished silence. Like some dripping 
 cavern, the chambers of the house were haunted by 
 an incessant echoing, which filled the ear and 
 mingled with the ticking of the clocks. And, as 
 Markheim approached the door, he seemed to hear, 
 in answer to his own cautious tread, the steps of 
 
354 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 another foot withdrawing up the stair. The 
 shadow still palpitated loosely on the threshold. 
 He threw a ton's weight of resolve upon his muscles, 
 and drew back the door. 
 
 The faint, foggy daylight glimmered dimly on the 
 bare floor and stairs; on the bright suit of armor 
 posted, halbert in hand, upon the landing; and on 
 the dark wood-carvings, and framed pictures that 
 hung against the yellow panels of the wainscot. So 
 loud was the beating of the rain through all the 
 house that, in Markheim's ears, it began to be dis- 
 tinguished into many different sounds. Footsteps 
 and sighs, the tread of regiments marching in the 
 distance, the chink of money in the counting, and 
 the creaking of doors held stealthily ajar, appeared 
 to mingle with the patter of the drops upon the 
 cupola and the gushing of the water in the pipes. 
 The sense that he was not alone grew upon him to 
 the verge of madness. On every side he was haunted 
 and begirt by presences. He heard them moving 
 in the upper chambers; from the shop, he heard 
 the dead man getting to his legs; and as he began 
 with a great effort to mount the stairs, feet fled 
 quietly before him and followed stealthily behind. 
 If he were but deaf, he thought, how tranquilly he 
 would possess his soul! And then again, and heark- 
 ening with ever fresh attention, he blessed himself 
 for that unresting sense which held the outposts 
 
MARKHEIM 355 
 
 and stood a trusty sentinel upon his life. His head 
 turned continually on his neck; his eyes, which 
 seemed starting from their orbits, scouted on every 
 side, and on every side were half-rewarded as with 
 the tail of something nameless vanishing. The four- 
 and-twenty steps to the first floor were four-and- 
 twenty agonies. 
 
 On that first story, the doors stood ajar, three of 
 them like three ambushes, shaking his nerves like the 
 throats of cannon. He could never again, he felt, be 
 sufficiently immured and fortified from men's 
 observing eyes; he longed to be home, girt in by 
 walls, buried among bedclothes, and invisible to all 
 but God. And at that thought he wondered a little, 
 recollecting tales of other murderers and the fear 
 they were said to entertain of heavenly avengers. 
 It was not so, at least, with him. He feared the 
 laws of nature, lest, in their callous and immutable 
 procedure, they should preserve some damning 
 evidence of his crime. He feared tenfold more, with 
 a slavish, superstitious terror, some scission in the 
 continuity of man's experience, some wilful illegal- 
 ity of nature. He played a game of skill, depend- 
 ing on the rules, calculating consequence from 
 cause; and what if nature, as the defeated tyrant 
 overthrew the chess-board, should break the mould 
 of their succession? The like had befallen Napoleon 
 (so writers said) when the winter changed the time 
 
356 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 of its appearance. The like might befall Markheim: 
 the solid walls might become transparent and 
 reveal his doings like those of bees in a glass hive; 
 the stout planks might yield under his foot like 
 quicksands and detain him in their clutch; ay, and 
 there were soberer accidents that might destroy him: 
 if, for instance, the house should fall and imprison 
 him beside the body of his victim; or the house next 
 door should fly on fire, and the firemen invade him 
 from all sides. These things he feared; and, in a 
 sense, these things might be called the hands of God 
 reached forth against sin. But about God Himself 
 he was at ease; his act was doubtless exceptional, 
 but so were his excuses, which God knew; it was 
 there, and not among men, that he felt sure of 
 justice. 
 
 When he had got safe into the drawing-room, and 
 shut the door behind him, he was aware of a respite 
 from alarms. The room was quite dismantled, un- 
 carpeted besides, and strewn with packing-cases and 
 incongruous furniture; several great pier-glasses, in 
 which he beheld himself at various angles, like an 
 actor on a stage; many pictures, framed and un- 
 framed, standing, with their faces to the wall; a fine 
 Sheraton sideboard, a cabinet of marquetry, and a 
 great old bed, with tapestry hangings. The windows 
 opened to the floor; but by great good fortune the 
 lower part of the shutters had been closed, and this 
 
MARKHEIM* 
 
 357 
 
 concealed him from the neighbors. Here, then, 
 Markheim drew in a packing case before the cabinet, 
 and began to search among the keys. It was a long 
 business, for there were many; and it was irksome, 
 besides; for, after all, there might be nothing in the 
 cabinet, and time was on the wing. But the 
 closeness of the occupation sobered him. With the 
 tail of his eye he saw the door even glanced at it 
 from time to time directly, like a besieged com- 
 mander pleased to verify the good estate of his 
 defences. But in truth he was at peace. The rain 
 falling in the street sounded natural and pleasant. 
 Presently, on the other side, the notes of a piano 
 were wakened to the music of a hymn, and the 
 voices of many children took up the air and words. 
 How stately, how comfortable was the melody! 
 How fresh the youthful voices! Markheim gave 
 ear to it smilingly, as he sorted out the keys; and 
 his mind was thronged with answerable ideas and 
 images; church-going children and the pealing of 
 the high organ; children afield, bathers by the 
 brookside, ramblers on the brambly common, 
 kite-flyers in the windy and cloud-navigated sky; 
 and then, at another cadence of the hymn, back 
 again to church, and the somnolence of summer 
 Sundays, and the high, genteel voice of the parson 
 (which he smiled a little to recall) and the painted 
 Jacobean tombs, and the dim lettering of the Ten 
 Commandments in the chancel. 
 
358 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 And as he sat thus, at once busy and absent, he 
 was startled to his feet. A flash of ice, a flash of fire, 
 a bursting gush of blood, went over him, and then he 
 stood transfixed and thrilling. A step mounted the 
 stair slowly and steadily, and presently a hand was 
 laid upon the knob, and the lock clicked, and the 
 door opened. 
 
 Fear held Markheim in a vice. What to expect he 
 knew not, whether the dead man walking, or the 
 official ministers of human justice, or some chance 
 witness blindly stumbling in to consign him to the 
 gallows. But when a face was thrust into the 
 aperture, glanced round the room, looking at him, 
 nodded and smiled as if in friendly recognition, and 
 then withdrew again, and the door closed behind it, 
 his fear broke loose from his control in a hoarse cry. 
 At the sound of this the visitant returned. 
 
 "Did you call me?" he asked pleasantly, and 
 with that he entered the room and closed the door 
 behind him. 
 
 Markheim stood and gazed at him with all his 
 eyes. Perhaps there was a film upon his sight, but 
 the outlines of the new-comer seemed to change and 
 waver like those of the idols in the wavering candle- 
 light of the shop; and at times he thought he knew 
 him; and at times he thought he bore a likeness to 
 himself; and always, like a lump of living terror, 
 there lay in his bosom the conviction that this thing 
 was not of the earth and not of God. 
 
MARKHEIM 359 
 
 And yet the creature had a strange air of the com- 
 monplace, as he stood looking on Markheim with a 
 smile; and when he added: "You are looking for 
 the money, I believe?" it was in the tones of every- 
 day politeness. 
 
 Markheim made no answer. 
 
 "I should warn you," resumed the other, "that 
 the maid has left her sweetheart earlier than usual 
 and will soon be here. If Mr. Markheim be found 
 in this house, I need not describe to him the conse- 
 quences." 
 
 "You know me?" cried the murderer. 
 
 The visitor smiled. "You have long been a 
 favorite of mine," he said; "and I have long 
 observed and often sought to help you." 
 
 "What are you?" cried Markheim: "the devil?" 
 
 "What I may be," returned the other, "cannot 
 affect the service I propose to render you." 
 
 "It can," cried Markheim; "it does! Be helped 
 by you? No, never; not by you! You do not know 
 me yet; thank God, you do not know me!" 
 
 "I know you," replied the visitant, with a sort of 
 kind severity or rather firmness. " I know you to the 
 soul." 
 
 "Know me!" cried Markheim. "Who can do 
 so? My life is but a travesty and slander on myself. 
 I have lived to belie my nature. All men do; all 
 men are better than this disguise that grows about 
 
360 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 and stifles them. You see each dragged away by life, 
 like one whom bravos have seized and muffled in a 
 cloak. If they had their own control if you could 
 see their faces, they would be altogether different, 
 they would shine out for heroes -and saints ! I am 
 worse than most; myself is more overlaid; my 
 excuse is known to me and God. But, had I the 
 time, I could disclose myself." 
 
 "To me?" inquired the visitant. 
 
 "To you before all," returned the murderer. "I 
 supposed you were intelligent. I thought since 
 you exist you would prove a reader of the heart. 
 And yet you would propose to judge me by my acts ! 
 Think of it; my acts! I was born and I have lived 
 in a land of giants; giants have dragged me by the 
 wrists since I was born out of my mother the 
 giants of circumstance. And you would judge me 
 by my acts ! But can you not look within? Can you 
 not understand that evil is hateful to me? Can you 
 not see within me the clear writing of conscience, 
 never blurred by any wilful sophistry, although too 
 often disregarded? Can you not read me for a 
 thing that surely must be common as humanity 
 the unwilling sinner?" 
 
 "All this is very feelingly expressed," was the 
 reply, "but it regards me not. These points of 
 consistency are beyond my province, and I care 
 not in the least by what compulsion you may have 
 
MARKHEIM 361 
 
 been dragged away, so as you are but carried in the 
 right direction. But time flies; the servant delays, 
 looking in the faces of the crowd and at the pictures 
 on the hoardings, but still she keeps moving nearer; 
 and remember, it is as if the gallows itself was 
 striding towards you through the Christmas streets ! 
 Shall I help you; I, who know all? Shall I tell you 
 where to find the money? " 
 
 " For what price? " asked Markheim. 
 
 "I offer you the service for a Christmas gift," re- 
 turned the other. 
 
 Markheim could not refrain from smiling with a 
 kind of bitter triumph. "No," said he, "I will take 
 nothing at your hands; if I were dying of thirst, 
 and it was your hand that put the pitcher to my lips, 
 I should find the courage to refuse. It may be 
 credulous, but I will do nothing to commit myself 
 to evil." 
 
 "I have no objection to a deathbed repentance," 
 observed the visitant. 
 
 "Because you disbelieve their efficacy!" Mark- 
 heim cried. 
 
 "I do not say so," returned the other; "but I 
 look on these things from a different side, and 
 when the life is done my interest falls. The man 
 has lived to serve me, to spread black looks under 
 color of religion, or to sow tares in the wheat-field, 
 as you do, in a course of weak compliance with 
 
362 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 desire. Now that he draws so near to his deliver- 
 ance, he can add but one act of service to repent, 
 to die smiling, and thus to build up in confidence 
 and hope the more timorous of my surviving 
 followers. I am not so hard a master. Try me. 
 Accept my help. Please yourself in life as you have 
 done hitherto; please yourself more amply, spread 
 your elbows at the board; and when the night 
 begins to fall and the curtains tobe drawn, I tell you, 
 for your greater comfort, that you will find it even 
 easy to compound your quarrel with your con- 
 science, and to make a truckling peace with God. 
 I came but now from such a deathbed, and the 
 room was full of sincere mourners, listening to the 
 man's last words: and when I looked into that face, 
 which had been set as a flint against mercy, I 
 found it smiling with hope." 
 
 "And do you, then, suppose me such a creature?" 
 asked Markheim. "Do you think I have no more 
 generous aspirations than to sin, and sin, and sin, 
 and, at the last, sneak into heaven? My heart rises 
 at the thought. Is this, then, your experience of 
 mankind? or is it because you find me with red 
 hands that you presume such baseness? and is 
 this crime of murder indeed so impious as to dry up 
 the very springs of good? " 
 
 "Murder is to me no special category," replied the 
 other. "All sins are murder, even as all life is war. 
 
MARKHEIM 363 
 
 I behold your race, like starving mariners on a raft, 
 plucking crusts out of the hands of famine and 
 feeding on each other's lives. I follow sins beyond 
 the moment of their acting; I find in all that the 
 last consequence is death; and to my eyes, the 
 pretty maid who thwarts her mother with such 
 taking graces on a question of a ball, drips no less 
 visibly with human gore than such a murderer as 
 yourself. Do I say that I follow sins? I follow 
 virtues also; they differ not by the thickness of a 
 nail, they are both scythes for the reaping angel of 
 Death. Evil, for which I live, consists not in 
 action but in character. The bad man is dear 
 to me; not the bad act, whose fruits, if we could 
 follow them far enough down the hurtling cataract 
 of the ages, might yet be found more blessed 
 than those of the rarest virtues. And it is not 
 because you have killed a dealer, but because you 
 are Markheim, that I offer to forward your escape." 
 "I will lay my heart open to you," answered 
 Markheim. "This crime on which you find me is 
 my last. On my way to it I have learned many 
 lessons; itself is a lesson, a momentous lesson. 
 Hitherto I have been driven with revolt to what I 
 would not; I was a bond-slave to poverty, driven 
 and scourged. There are robust virtues that can 
 stand in these temptations; mine was not so: I 
 had a thirst of pleasure. But to-day, and out of 
 
364 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 this deed, I pluck both warning and riches both 
 the power and a fresh resolve to be myself. I 
 become in all things a free actor in the world; I 
 begin to see myself all changed, these hands the 
 agents of good, this heart at peace. Something 
 comes over me out of the past; something of what I 
 have dreamed on Sabbath evenings to the sound of 
 the church organ, of what I forecast when I shed 
 tears over noble books, or talked, an innocent child, 
 with my mother. There lies my life; I have 
 wandered a few years, but now I see once more my 
 city of destination." 
 
 "You are to use this money on the Stock Ex- 
 change, I think?" remarked the visitor; "and 
 there, if I mistake not, you have already lost some 
 thousands? " 
 
 "Ah," said Markheim, "but this time I have a 
 sure thing." 
 
 "This time, again, you will lose," replied the 
 visitor quietly. 
 
 "Ah, but I keep back the half!" cried Mark- 
 heim. 
 
 "That also you will lose," said the other. 
 
 The sweat started upon Markheim's brow. 
 "Well, then, what matter?" he exclaimed. "Say 
 it be lost, say I am plunged again in poverty, shall 
 one part of me, and that the worse, continue until 
 the end to override the better? Evil and good run 
 
MARKHEIM 365 
 
 strong in me, haling me both ways. I do not love 
 the one thing, I love all. I can conceive great deeds, 
 renunciations, martyrdoms; and though I be fallen 
 to such a crime as murder, pity is no stranger to my 
 thoughts. I pity the poor; who knows their trials 
 better than myself? I pity and help them; I prize 
 love, I love honest laughter; there is no good thing 
 nor true thing on earth but I love it from my heart. 
 And are my vices only to direct my life, and my 
 virtues to lie without effect, like some passive lumber 
 of the mind? Not so; good, also, is a spring of acts." 
 
 But the visitant raised his finger. "For six-and- 
 thirty years that you have been in this world," said 
 he, " through many changes of fortune and varieties 
 of humor, I have watched you steadily fall. 
 Fifteen years ago you would have started at a theft. 
 Three years back you would have blenched at the 
 name of murder. Is there any crime, is there any 
 cruelty or meanness, from which you still recoil? 
 five years from now I shall detect you in the fact! 
 Downward, downward, lies your way; nor can 
 anything but death avail to stop you." 
 
 "It is true," Markheim said huskily, "I have in 
 some degree complied with evil. But it is so with 
 all: the very saints, in the mere exercise of living, 
 grow less dainty, and take on the tone of their 
 surroundings." 
 
 "I will propound to you one simple question/' 
 
366 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 said the other; "and as you answer, I shall read to 
 you your moral horoscope. You have grown in 
 many things more lax; possibly you do right to be 
 so; and at any account, it is the same with all men. 
 But granting that, are you in any one particular, 
 however trifling, more difficult to please with your 
 own conduct, or do you go in all things with a 
 looser rein? " 
 
 "In any one?" repeated Markheim, with an 
 anguish of consideration. "No," he added, with 
 despair, "in none! I have gone down in all." 
 
 "Then," said the visitant, " content yourself with 
 what you are, for you will never change; and the 
 words of your part on this stage are irrevocably 
 written down." 
 
 Markheim stood for a long while silent, and 
 indeed it was the visitant who first bioke the silence. 
 "That being so," he said, "shall I show you the 
 money?" 
 
 "And grace?" cried Markheim. 
 
 "Have you not tried it?" returned the other. 
 "Two or three years ago, did I not see you on the 
 platform of revival meetings, and was not your 
 voice the loudest in the hymn? " 
 
 "It is true," said Markheim; "and I see clearly 
 what remains for me by way of duty. I thank you 
 for these lessons from my soul ; my eyes are opened, 
 and I behold myself at last for what I am." 
 
MARKHEIM 367 
 
 At this moment, the sharp note of the door-bell 
 rang through the house; and the visitant, as though 
 this were some concerted signal for which he had 
 been waiting, changed at once in his demeanor. 
 
 "The maid!" he cried. "She has returned, as I 
 forewarned you, and there is now before you one 
 more difficult passage. Her master, you must say, 
 is ill; you must let her in, with an assured but 
 rather serious countenance no smiles, no over- 
 acting, and I promise you success! Once the girl 
 within, and the door closed, the same dexterity that 
 has already rid you of the dealer will relieve you of 
 this last danger in your path. Thenceforward you 
 have the whole evening the whole night, if 
 needful to ransack the treasures of the house and 
 to make good your safety. This is help that comes 
 to you with the mask of danger. Up!" he cried; 
 "up, friend; your life hangs trembling in the 
 scales: up, and act!" 
 
 Markheim steadily regarded his counsellor. "If 
 I be condemned to evil acts," he said, "there is still 
 one door of freedom open I can cease from action. 
 If my life be an ill thing, I can lay it down. Though 
 I be, as you say truly, at the beck of every small 
 temptation, I can yet, by one decisive gesture, place 
 myself beyond the reach of all. My love of good is 
 damned to barrenness; it may, and let it be! But 
 I have still my hatred of evil; and from that, to your 
 
368 BEST ENGLISH TALES 
 
 galling disappointment, you shall see that I can draw 
 both energy and courage." 
 
 The features of the visitant began to undergo a 
 wonderful and lovely change: they brightened and 
 softened with a tender triumph, and, even as they 
 brightened, faded and dislimned. But Markheim 
 did not pause to watch or understand the trans- 
 formation. He opened the door and went down- 
 stairs very slowly, thinking to himself. His past 
 went soberly before him; he beheld it as it was, 
 ugly and strenuous like a dream, random as chance- 
 medley a scene of defeat. Life, as he thus 
 reviewed it, tempted him no longer; but on the 
 farther side he perceived a quiet haven for his bark. 
 He paused in the passage, and looked into the shop, 
 where the candle still burned by the dead body. 
 It was strangely silent. Thoughts of the dealer 
 swarmed into his mind, as he stood gazing. And 
 then the bell once more broke out into impatient 
 clamor. 
 
 He confronted the maid upon the threshold with 
 something like a smile. 
 
 "You had better go for the police," said he: "I 
 have killed your master." 
 
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