THE STORY OF 
 CHARLES STRANGE 
 
 Mrs. Henry Wood
 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 THE 
 
 STOEY OF CHARLES STRANGE.
 
 MRS. HENRY WOOD'S NOVELS. 
 
 Sale over Two Million Copies. 
 
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 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, New Burlington Street, W. 
 
 publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen.)
 
 THE 
 
 STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Jl ^obcL 
 
 BY VIoQy^. 
 
 d, Elleio CPr/'ce-j 
 
 /*'/ 
 
 \V 
 
 MRS. HENRY AYOOD, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 *'EAST LYNNE," "THE CHAN^7NGS," 'JOHNNY LUDLOW," ETC. 
 
 NEW EDITION. 
 
 jPiftccntf) tir|)ousnnti. 
 
 LONDON: 
 RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON, 
 
 publisljrrs in ^Prtituars to |l|rr ftlajcstu tijc ©uccn. 
 
 1897. 
 
 {All rights 7-eserved.')
 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PniNTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 
 STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. 
 
 Early Days ... 
 
 II. 
 
 Changes ... 
 
 III. 
 
 Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar 
 
 IV. 
 
 In Essex Street ... 
 
 V. 
 
 Watts's Wife 
 
 VI. 
 
 Blanche Heriot ... 
 
 VII. 
 
 Tried at the Old Bailey 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The Vine-covered Cottage at 
 
 IX. 
 
 Complications 
 
 X. 
 
 The House at Marshdale 
 
 XI. 
 
 The Quarrel 
 
 XII. 
 
 Mystery ... 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Suspicion 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Not Lifted 
 
 XV. 
 
 One Night in Essex Street . 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Leah's Story 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Lady Clavering 
 
 xviir. 
 
 The Missing Will 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Annabel 
 
 XX. 
 
 Perry's Eevelation 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Some one else seen ... 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Prowling about ... ,,. 
 
 Pisa 
 
 PAGE 
 1 
 
 12 
 
 26 
 
 40 
 
 52 
 
 62 
 
 79 
 
 96 
 
 107 
 
 119 
 
 134 
 
 150 
 
 1G3 
 
 177 
 
 192 
 
 204 
 
 217 
 
 233 
 
 243 
 
 256 
 
 2G8 
 
 280
 
 71 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Mrs Brightman 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 My Lord and my Lady ... 
 
 XXV. 
 
 On the Watcu 
 
 xxvr. 
 
 Tom He riot 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 An Evening Visitor ... 
 
 xxviir. 
 
 Kestitution 
 
 XXIX 
 
 Confession ... 
 
 XXX 
 
 Danger ... 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 With Mr. Jonks 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 An Accident 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Last Days ... 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 liAST Words 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Down at MafxShdale . . . 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 In the East Wing 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Conclusion ... 
 
 PAGE 
 21)1 
 
 305 
 318 
 331 
 341 
 
 350 
 3G5 
 378 
 387 
 402 
 412 
 420 
 431 
 444 
 459
 
 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 1 
 
 EARLY DAYS. 
 
 I, Charles Strange, have called this my own story, and 
 shall myself narrate a portion of it to my reader ; but not 
 the whole. 
 
 May was quickly passing. The drawing-room window 
 of "White Littleham Rectory stood open to the sunshine 
 and the summer air : for the years of warm springs and 
 long summers had not then left the land. The incumbent 
 of the parish of White Littleham, Hampshire, was the 
 Reverend Eustace Strange.. On a sofa, near the window, 
 lay his wife, in her white dress and yellow silk shawl. A 
 young and lovely lady, with a sweet countenance ; her eyes 
 blue as the heavens, her face growing more transparent day 
 by day, her cheeks too often a fatal hectic ; altogether look- 
 ing so delicately fragile that the Rector must surely be 
 blind not to suspect the truth. She suspected it. Nay, 
 she no longer suspected ; she knew. Perhaps it was that 
 he would not do so. 
 
 " Charley ! " 
 
 B
 
 a THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 I sat at the end of the room reading a book of fairy tales 
 that my father had given me that morning. He was as 
 orthodox a divine as ever lived, but not strait-laced, and 
 he liked children to read fairy tales and wholesome stories. 
 At the moment I was deep in a tale called " Finetta," con- 
 cerning a young princess shut up in a high tower. To me 
 it was enchanting. 
 
 " Yes, mamma." 
 
 " Come to me, dear." 
 
 Putting down the precious book, I crossed the room to 
 the sofa. My mother raised herself. Holding me to her 
 Avith one hand, she pushed with the other the hair from my 
 face and gazed into it. That my face was very like 
 hers, I knew. It had been said a hundred times in my 
 hearing that I had her dark-blue eyes, soft brown hair and 
 well-carved features. 
 
 " My boy," she said caressingly, " I am so sorry ! I fear 
 you are disappointed. You were always promised a birth- 
 day party, you know, when you should be seven years old. 
 I think we might have had them." 
 
 There had been some discussion about it. My mother 
 thought the boys and girls might come ; but my father and 
 Leah said, " No — it would fatigue her." • 
 
 " I don't mind a bit, mamma," I answered. " I have 
 my book, and it is very pretty. They can come next year, 
 you know, when you are well again." 
 
 She sighed deeply. Getting up from the sofa, she took 
 up two books that were on the stand behind her, and sat 
 down again. . Early in the spring some illness had seized 
 her tliat I did not understand. She ought to have been well 
 again by this time, but was not so. She left her room and 
 came downstairs, and saw friends when they called : but 
 instead of growing stronger she grew weaker. 
 
 " She was never robust, and it has been too much for
 
 EARLY DAYS. 8 
 
 her," I overheard Leah say to oue_,of the other servants, in 
 alhision to the illness. 
 
 "What if I should not be here at your next birthday, 
 Charley ? " she asked sadly, holding mo to her side as she 
 sat. 
 
 " But where should you be, mamma ? " 
 
 " Well, my child, I tliink — sometimes I think — that by 
 that time I may be in heaven." 
 
 I felt suddenly seized with a sort of shivering. I neither 
 spoke nor cried ; at seven years old many a child only 
 imperfectly realizes the full meaning of anything like this. 
 My eyes became misty. 
 
 " Don't cry, Charley. All that God does must be for 
 the best, you know : and heaven is a better world than 
 this." 
 
 " Oh, mamma, you must get well ; you must ! " I cried, 
 words and tears bursting forth together. " Won't you 
 come out, and grow strong in the sunshine ? See how 
 warm and bright it is ! Look at the flowers in the grass ! " 
 
 " Ay, dear ; it is all very bright and warm and beautiful," 
 she said, looking across the garden to the field beyond it. 
 " The grass is growing long, and the buttercups and cow- 
 slips and blue-bells are all there. Soon they will be cut 
 down and the field will be bare. Next year the grass and 
 the flowers will spring up again, Charlie : but we, once we 
 are taken, will spring up no more in this world : only in 
 heaven." 
 
 " But don't you think you will get well, mamma ? Can't 
 you try to ? " 
 
 " Well, dear — yes, I will try to do so. I liave tried. I 
 am trying every day, Charley, for I should not like to go 
 away and leave my little boy." 
 
 With a long sigh, that it seemed to me I often heard 
 from her now, she lay for a moment with her head on the
 
 4 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 back of the sofa and closed her eyes. Then she sat forward 
 again, and took up one of the books. 
 
 "I meant to give you a little book to-day, Charley, as 
 well as papa. Look, it is called ' Sintram.' A lady gave 
 it me when I was twelve years old ; and I have always liked 
 it. You are too young to understand it yet, but you will 
 do so later." 
 
 " Here's some poetry ! " I cried, turning the leaves over. 
 The pleasure of the gift had chased away my tears. Young 
 minds are impressionable— and had she not just said she 
 would try to get well ? 
 
 " I will repeat it to you, Charley," she answered. 
 " Listen. 
 
 " ' When death is drawing near, 
 And thy heart sinks with fear, 
 
 And thy limbs fail, 
 Then raise thy hands and pray 
 To Him who cheers the way, 
 
 Through the dark Yale. 
 
 " ' See'st thou the eastern dawn ? 
 Hear'st thou, in the red morn. 
 
 The angel's song ? 
 Oh ! lift thy drooping head, 
 Thou who in gloom and dread 
 
 Hast lain bo long. 
 
 " ' Death comes to set thee free ; 
 Oh ! meet him cheerily. 
 
 As thy true fiiend; 
 And all thy fears shall cease, 
 - And in eternal peace 
 
 Thy penance end.' 
 
 You see, Charley, death comes not as a foe, but as a friend 
 to those who have learnt to look for him, for he is sent by 
 God," she continued in a loving voice as she smoothed back 
 my hair with her gentle hand. " I want you to learn this
 
 EARLY DAYS. 5 
 
 bit of poelry by heart, and to say it sometimes to yourself 
 in future years. And — and — should mamma have gone 
 away, then it will be pleasant to you to remember that the 
 angels' song came to cheer her — as I know it will come — 
 when she Was setting out on her journey. Oh ! very 
 pleasant ! and the same song and the same angel will cheer 
 your departure, my darling child, when the appointed hour 
 for it shall come to you." 
 
 " Shall we see the angel ? " 
 
 " Well — yes — with the eye of faith. And it is said that 
 some good people have really seen the radiant messenger 
 who has come to take them to the eternal shores. You 
 will learn it, Charley, won't you — and never forget it ? " 
 
 " I'll learn it all, every verse ; and I will never forget 
 it, mamma." 
 
 " I am going to give you this book, also, Charley," she 
 went on, bringing forward the other. " You——" 
 
 " Why, that's your Bible, mamma ! " 
 
 " Yes, dear, it is my Bible ; but I should like it to be 
 yours. And I hope it will be as good a friend to you as it 
 is now to me. I shall still use it myself, Charley, for a 
 little while. You will lend it me, won't you ? and later, it 
 will be all your own." 
 
 " fShall you buy another for yourself, then ? " 
 
 She did not answer. Her face was turned to the window ; 
 her yearning eyes were fixed in thought upon the blue sky ; 
 her hot hands were holding mine. In a moment, to my 
 consternation, she bent her face upon mine and burst into 
 a flood of tears. What I should have said or done, I know 
 not ; but at that moment my father came swiftly out of his 
 study, into the room. He was a rather tall man with a 
 pale, grave face, very much older than his wife. 
 
 " Do you chance to remember, Lucy, where that cata- 
 logue of books was put that came last week ? I want "
 
 6 THE STORY t)F CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Thus far bad he spoken, when he saw the state of things ; 
 and he broke off in vexation. 
 
 " How can you be so imprudent, Lucy ! I will not have 
 it. You don't allow yourself a chance to get well — giving 
 way to these low spirits ! What is the matter ? " 
 
 " It is nothing," she replied, with another of those long 
 sighs. " I was talking a little to Charley, and a fit of 
 crying came on. It has not harmed me, Eustace." 
 
 " Charley, boy, I saw some fresh, sweet violets down in 
 the dingle this morning. Go and pick some for mamma," 
 he said. " Never mind your hat : it is as warm as 
 midsummer." 
 
 I was ready for the dingle, which was only across the 
 field, at any time, and I ran out. Leah Williams was 
 coming in at the garden gate. 
 
 " Now, Master Charles ! Where are you off to ? And 
 without your hat ! " 
 
 " I'm going to the dingle, to get some fresh violets for 
 mamma. Papa said my hat did not matter." 
 
 " Oh," said Leah, glancing doubtfully at the window. I 
 glanced too. He had sat down on the sofa by my mother 
 then, and was talking to her earnestly, his head bent. She 
 had her handkerchief up to her face. Leah attacked me again. 
 
 " You've been crying, you naughty boy I Your eyes are 
 wet still. What was that for ? " 
 
 " I did not say what : though I had hard work to keep 
 the tears from falling. " Leah," I whispered, " do you 
 think mamma will get well ? " 
 
 " Bless the child ! " she exclaimed, after a pause, during 
 which she had looked again at the window and back at me. 
 " Why, Avliat's to hinder it ? — with all this fine, beautiful 
 warm weather I Don't you turn fanciful, Master Charley 1 
 And when you've picked the violets, come to me, and I'll 
 find you a slice of cake."
 
 EABLY DAYS. 7 
 
 Leali had been with us about two years, as upper servant, 
 attendiug upon my mother and mc, and doing the sewing. 
 Slie was between twenty and thirty thcii, an upright, 
 superior young woman, kind in the main, though with 
 rather a hard face, and faithful as the day. The other 
 servants called her Mrs. Williams, for she had been married 
 and was a widow. Not tall, she yet looked so, she was so 
 remarkably thin, ller gray eyes were deep-set, her curls 
 were black, and she had a high, fresh colour. Every one, 
 gentle and simple, wore carls at that time. 
 
 The violets were in the dingle, sure enough ; both blue 
 and white. I picked a handful, ran in with them, and put 
 them on my mother's lap. The Hector was sitting by her 
 still, but he got up then. 
 
 " They are very sweet," she said with a smile — " very 
 sweet and lovely. Thank you, my darling boy." 
 
 She kissed me a hundred times, and might have kissed 
 inc a hundred more, but my father drew me away. 
 
 " Do not tire yourself any more to-day, Lucy ; it is not 
 good for you. Charley, boy, you can take your fairy tales 
 and show them to Leah." 
 
 The day of the funeral will never fade from my memory ; 
 and yet I can only recall some of its incidents. AVhat 
 impressed me most was that my father did not stand at the 
 grave in his surplice reading the service, as I had seen him 
 do at other funerals. Another clergyman was in his place, 
 and he stood by me in silence, holding my hand. And he 
 told me, after we returned home, that my mother was not 
 herself in the cold, dark grave, but a happy angel in heaven 
 looking down upon me. 
 
 And so the time went on. My father was more grave 
 than of yore, and taught me lessons daily. Leah indulged 
 and scolded alternately, often sang to me, for she had a
 
 8 THE STORY OF CHAELES STRANGE. 
 
 clear, sweet voice ; and when she was in a good humour 
 would let me read " Sintram " and the fairy tales to her. 
 
 The interest of my mother's money — which was now 
 mine — brought in three hundred a year. She had enjoyed 
 it all ; I was to have (or, rather, my father for me) just as 
 much of it as the two trustees chose to allow, for it was 
 strictly tied up in their hands. When I was twenty-four 
 years of age — not before — the duties of the trustees would 
 cease, and the whole sum, six thousand pounds, would come 
 into my uncontrolled possession. One of the trustees was 
 my mother's uncle, Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar ; the other I 
 did not know. Of course the reader will understand that I 
 do not explain these matters from my knowledge of them 
 at that time ; but from what I learnt when I was older. 
 
 Nearly a year had gone by, and it was warm spring 
 weather again. I sat in my brown-holland dress in the 
 dingle amidst the wild flowers. The air was full of the 
 scent of violets ; cowslips lay about me ; I had picked 
 the flowers from the stalks to make into a ball. The sun- 
 light flickered through the trees, still in their tender green ; 
 the sky was blue and cloudless. 
 
 Why it should have been so, I know not ; but while I sat, 
 there suddenly came over me a remembrance of the day 
 when I had come to the dingle to pick those other violets, 
 and a rush of tears came on. Leah took good care of me, 
 but she was not my mother. My father was good, and 
 grave, and kind, but he did not give me the love that she 
 had given. A mother's love would never be mine again, 
 and I knew it ; and in that moment was bitterly feeling it. 
 
 One end of the string was held between my teeth, the 
 other end in my left hand, and my eyes were wet with tears. 
 I strung the cowslips as well as I could. But it was not 
 easy, and I made little progress.
 
 EARLY DAYS. 9 
 
 " S'all I hold it for oo ? " 
 
 Looking up in surprise — for I had thought the movement 
 in the dingle was only Leah coming to see after me — there 
 stood the sweetest fairy of a child before me I had ever seen. 
 The sleeves of her cotton frock and white pinafore were tied 
 up with black ribbons ; her face was delicately fair, her eyes 
 were a deep blue, and her light curls fell low on her pretty 
 neck. ]\Iy child heart went out to her with a bound, then 
 and there. 
 
 " What 00 trying for, 'ittle boy ? " 
 
 " I was crying for mamma. She's gone away from me to 
 heaven." 
 
 Without warning, the child put her arms round my neck, 
 without waiting my permission, and gave me a dozen kisses. 
 
 " Xow make the ball, boy. S'all oo dive it to me ? " 
 
 " Yes. What is your name ? " 
 
 " Baby. What oors ? " 
 
 "Charles. Do you " 
 
 "You little monkey !— giving me this hunt ! How came 
 you to run away ? " 
 
 The words were spoken by a tall, handsome boy, quite old 
 compared with me, who had come dashing through the 
 dingle. He caught up the child and began kissing her 
 fondly. 
 
 " It was 00 ran away, Tom." 
 
 " But I ordered you to stop where I left you— and to sit 
 still till I came back again. If you run away by yourself in 
 the wood, you'll meet a great bear some day and he'll cat 
 you up. Mind that, Miss Blanche. Mamsic is in a fine 
 way ; thinks you're lost, you silly little thing." 
 
 " Dat 'towslip ball for me, Tom." 
 
 Master Tom condescended to turn his attention upon me 
 and the ball. I guessed now who they were : a family 
 named Heriot, who had recently come to live at the pretty
 
 16 THE STOBY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 white cottage on the other side the copse. Tom was looking 
 at me with his fine dark eyes. 
 
 " You are the parson's son, I talvO it, youngster. I saw 
 you in the parson's pew on Sunday with an old woman." 
 
 " She is not an old woman," I said, jealous on Leah's 
 account. 
 
 " A young one, then. What's your name ? " 
 
 " Charles Strange." 
 
 " He dot no mamma," put in the child. " Tome to my 
 mamma, 'ittle boy ; she love oo and tiss oo." 
 
 " When I have made your ball." 
 
 " Oh, bother the ball ! " put in Tom. " We can't wait 
 for that ; mamsie's in a rare way already. You can come 
 home with us if you like, youngster, and finish your ball 
 afterwards." 
 
 Leaving the cowslips, I caught up my hat and we started, 
 Tom carrying the child. I was a timid, sensitive little 
 fellow, but took courage to ask him a question. 
 
 " Is your name Tom Heriot ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, it is Tom Heriot — if it does you any good to 
 know it. And this is Miss Blanche Heriot. And I wish 
 you were a bit bigger and older ; I'd make you my 
 playfellow." 
 
 We were through the copse in a minute or two and in 
 sight of the white cottage, over the field beyond it. Mrs. 
 Heriot stood at the garden gate, looking out. She was a 
 pretty little plump woman, with a soft voice, and wore a 
 widow's cap. A servant in a check apron was with her, and 
 knew me. Mrs. Heriot scolded Blanche for running away 
 from Tom whilst she caressed lier, and turned to smile at 
 me. 
 
 " It is little Master Strange," I heard the maid say to 
 her. •' He lost his mother a year ago." 
 
 " Oh, poor little fellow 1 " sighed Mrs. Ilci-iot, as she
 
 EARLY DAYS. 11 
 
 held me before her and kissed me twice. "What a nice 
 lad it is ! — what lovely eyes ! IMy dear,, you can come here 
 whenever you like, and play with Tom and Blanche." 
 
 Some few years before, this lady had married Colonel 
 Heriot, a widower with one little boy — Thomas. After 
 that, Blanche was born : so that she and Tom were only 
 half-brother-and-sistcr. When Blanche was two years old 
 — she was three now — Colonel Heriot died, and Mrs. Heriot 
 had come into the country to economize. She was not at 
 all well off ; had, indeed, little beyond what was allowed 
 her with the two children : all their father's fortune had 
 lajjsed to them, and she had no control over it. Tom had 
 more than Blanche, and was to be brought up for a soldier. 
 
 As we stood in a group outside the gate, my father came 
 by. Seeing me, he naturally stopped, took off his hat to 
 Mrs. Heriot, and spoke. This is how the acquaintanceship 
 began, without formal introduction on either side. Taking 
 the pretty little girl in his arms, he began talking to her : 
 for he was very fond of children, Mrs, Heriot said some- 
 thing to him in low, feeling tones about his wife's death. 
 
 "Yes," he sighed in answer, as he put down the child : 
 *' I shall never recover her loss. I live only in the hope of 
 rejoining her there." 
 
 He glanced up at the blue sky : the pure, calm, peaceful 
 canopy of heaven.
 
 12 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CHANGES. 
 
 " I SHALL never recover her loss. I live only in the hope 
 of rejoining her there." 
 
 It has been said that the vows of lovers are ephemeral as 
 characters written on the sand of the sea-shore. Surely 
 may this also be said of the regrets given to the departed ! 
 For time has a habit of soothing the deepest sorrow ; and 
 the remembrance which is piercing our hearts so poignantly 
 to-day in a few short months will have lost its sting. 
 
 My father was quite sincere when speaking the above 
 words : meant and believed them to the very letter. Yet 
 before the spring and summer flowers had given place to 
 those of autumn, he had taken unto himself another wife : 
 Mrs. Heriot. 
 
 The first intimation of what was in contemplation came 
 to me from Leah. I had offended her one day; done 
 something wrong, or not done something right ; and she 
 fell upon me with a stern reproach, especially accusing me 
 of ingratitude. 
 
 " After all my care of you, Master Charles — my anxiety 
 find trouble to keep your clothes nice and make you good ! 
 What shall you do when I haVe gone a Way 't " 
 
 " But you are not going away, Leah.'' 
 
 " I don't know that. We are to have changes here, it 
 seems, and I'm not sure that they will suit me."
 
 CHANGES. 13 
 
 " What changes ? " I asked. 
 
 She sat at the nursery window, which had th{?same aspect 
 as the drawing-room below, darning my socks ; 1 knelt on 
 a chair, looking out. It was a rainy day, and the drops 
 pattered thickly against the panes. 
 
 " Well, there's going to be — some company in the house," 
 said Leah, taking her own time to answer me. '* And I 
 think perhaps there'll be no room for me." 
 
 " Oh yes, there will. Who is it, Leah ? " 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder but it's people over yonder," point- 
 ing her long darning-needle in the direction of the 
 dingle. 
 
 " There's nothing there but mosses and trees, Leah. No 
 people." 
 
 " There is a little farther off," nodded Leah. " There's 
 Mrs. Heriot and her two children." 
 
 " Oh, do you say they are coming here ! — do you mean 
 it ? " I cried in ecstasy. " Are they coming for a long 
 visit, Leah ? — to breakfast here, and dine and sleep ?, Oh, 
 how glad I am ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " groaned Leah ; " perhaps you may be glad just 
 at first ; you are but a little shallow-sensed boy. Master 
 Charley : but it may turn out for better, or it may turn out 
 for worse." 
 
 To my intense astonishment, she dropped her work and 
 burst into tears. I felt very uncomfortable. 
 
 " What is it, Leah ? " 
 
 " Well, it is that I'm a silly," she answered, looking up 
 and drying her eyes. " I got thinking of the past. Master 
 Charley, of your dear mamma, and all that. It is solitary 
 for you here, and perhaps you'll be happier with some play- 
 fellows." 
 
 I went on staring at her. 
 
 " And look here. Master Charles, don't repeat what I've
 
 14 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 said ; not to anybody, mind ; or perhaps they won't come 
 at all," conduded Leah. 
 
 There came a day — it was in that same week — when 
 everybody seemed to go wrong, as far as I was concerned. 
 I had been at warfare with Leah in the morning, and was 
 so inattentive at lessons in the afternoon that my father 
 scolded me, and gave me an extra Latin exercise to do when 
 they were over, and shnt me up in the study until it was 
 done. Then Leah refused jam for tea, which I wanted. 
 Altogether I was in anything but an enviable mood when 
 I went out later into the garden. The most cruel item in 
 the whole was that I could not see I had been to blame, 
 but thought every one else was. The sun had set behind 
 the trees in a fiery red ball as I climbed into my favourite 
 seat — the fork of the pear-tree. My father had gone to 
 attend a vestry meeting ; the little bell of the church was 
 tinkling out, giving notice of the meeting to the parish. 
 
 Presently the bell ceased ; silence ensued ; the bright- 
 ness of the day had given place to the shades of approach- 
 ing evening ; the trees were putting on their melancholy 
 tones. I have always thought — I always shall think — that 
 nothing can be more depressing than the indescribable 
 melancholy Avhich trees in a solitary spot put on after sun- 
 set. All people do not feel this ; but to those who, like 
 myself, see it, it brings a sensation of loneliness, nay, of 
 aive, that is strangely painful. 
 
 " Ho -ho ! So you are up there again, young Charley ! " 
 
 The garden-gate had swung back to admit Tom Heriot. 
 In hastenmg down, I somehow lost my balance and fell 
 on to the grass. Tom shouted with laughter, and made 
 off again. 
 
 The fall was nothing — though my ankle ached ; but at 
 these untoward moments a httle smart causes great pain. 
 It seemed to me that: I was smarting all over, mentally and
 
 CHANGES. 15 
 
 bodily ; and I sat down on the Ijcnch near tho bed of 
 shrubs, and burst into tears. 
 
 Sweet shrubs were tlicy. Lavender and rosemary, old- 
 man and sweet-briar, marjoram and lemon-thyme, musk 
 and verbena ; and others, no doubt. My mother had had 
 them all planted there. She would sit with me where I 
 was now sitting alone, under the syriuga trees, and revel in 
 the perfume. lu spring-time the sweet blossoms would 
 surround us ; she loved their scent better than any other. 
 Bitterly I cried, thinking of all this, and of her. 
 
 Again the gate opened, more gently this time, and l\rrs. 
 Heriot came iu looking round. " Thomas," she called out 
 — and then saw me. " Charley, dear, has Tom been here ? 
 He ran away from me. — Why, my dear child, what is the 
 matter ? " For she had seen the tears falling. 
 
 They fell faster than ever at the question. She came up, 
 sat down on the bench, and drew my face lovingly to her. 
 I thought then — I think still — that Mrs. Heriot was one 
 of the kindest, gentlest women that ever breathed. I 
 don't believe she ever in her whole life said a sharp Avord 
 to any one. 
 
 Not liking to confess my naughtiness — which I still 
 attributed to others — or of the fall from the pear-tree, I 
 sobbed forth something about my mother. 
 
 " If she had not gone away and left me alone," I said, 
 " I should never have been unhappy. People were not 
 cross with me when she was here." 
 
 "My darling, I know how lonely it is for you. Would 
 you like me to come here and be your mother ? " she 
 caressingly whispered. 
 
 "You could not be that," I dissented. "Mamma's up 
 there." 
 
 Mrs. Heriot glanced up at the evening sky. " Yes, 
 Charley, she is up there, with God ; and she looks down,
 
 16 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 I feel sure, at you, and at what is being done for you. If 
 I came home here I should try to take care of you as she 
 would have done. And oh, my child, I should love you 
 dearly." 
 
 " In her place ? " I asked, feeling puzzled. 
 
 " In her place, Charley. For her.'' 
 
 Tom rushed in at the gate again. He began telling his 
 stepmother of my fall as he danced a war-dance on the 
 grass, and asked me how many legs and wings I had 
 broken. 
 
 They came to the Rectory : Mrs. Heriot — she was Mrs. 
 Strange then— and Tom and Baby. After all, Leah did 
 not leave. She grew reconciled to the new state of things 
 in no time, and became as fond of the children as she was 
 of me. As fond, at least, of Tom. I don't know that she 
 ever cared heartily for Blanche : the little lady had a 
 haughty face, and sometimes a haughty way with her. 
 
 We were all as happy as the day was long. Mrs. 
 Strange indulged us all. Tom was a dreadful pickle— so 
 the servants called him ; but they all adored him. He 
 was a handsome, generous, reckless boy, two years older 
 than I, and twice two in height and advancement. He 
 teased Leah's life out of her ; but the more he teased, 
 the better she liked him. He teased Blanche, he teased 
 me ; though he would have gone through fire and water 
 for either of us. He was everlastingly in mischief indoors 
 or out. He called my father " sir " to his face, " the 
 parson " or " his reverence " behind his back. There was 
 no taming Tom Heriot. 
 
 For a short time my father took Tom's lessons with 
 mine. But he found it would not answer. Tom's 
 guardians wrote to beg of the Rector to continue to under- 
 take him for a year or two, offering a handsome recompense
 
 CHANGES. l7 
 
 iu return. But the Hector wrote word back that the lad 
 needed the discipUne of school, and must have it. So to 
 school Tom was sent. He came home iu the holidays, 
 reckless and random, generous and loving as ever, and we 
 had fine times together, the three of us growing up like 
 brothers and sister. Of course, I was not related to them 
 at all : and they were only half related to each other. 
 
 Rather singularly, Thomas Heriot's little fortune was 
 just as much as mine : six thousand pounds : and left in 
 very much the same way. The interest, about three 
 hundred a year, was to maintain and educate him for the 
 army ; and he would come into the whole when he was 
 twenty-one. Blanche had less : four thousand only, and 
 it was secured in the same way as Tom's until she should 
 be twenty-one, or until she married. 
 
 And thus about a couple of years went on. 
 
 No household Was ever less given to superstition than 
 ours at White Littleham Rectory. It never so much as 
 entered the mind of any of its inmates, from its master 
 downwards. And perhaps it was this complete disbelief in 
 the supernatural that caused the matter to be openly spoken 
 of by the Rector. I have since thought so. 
 
 It was Christmas-tide, and Christmas weather. Frost 
 and snow covered the ground. Icicles on the branches 
 glittered in the sunshine. 
 
 " It is the jolliest day ! " exclaimed Tom, dashing into 
 the breakfast-room from an early morning run half over th6 
 parish. " People are slipping about like mad, and the ice is 
 inches thick on the ponds. Old Joe Styles went right down 
 on his back." 
 
 "I hope he was not hurt, Tom," remarked my father, 
 coming into the room in time to hear the last sentence. 
 " Good-morning, my boys." 
 
 c
 
 18 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 "Oil, it was only a Christmas gambol, sir," said Tom 
 carelessly. 
 
 We sat down to breakfast. Leah came in to wait upon 
 me and Tom. The Rector might be — and was — efficient in 
 his parish and pulpit, but a more hopelessly incapable man 
 from a domestic point of view the world never saw. Tom 
 and I should have come badly off had we reUed upon him to 
 help us, and we might have devoured every earthly thing on 
 the table without his saying yea or nay. Leah, knowing 
 this, stood to pour out the colfee. Mrs. Strange had gone 
 to London on Wednesday (the day after Christmas Day) to 
 see an old aunt who was ill, and had taken Blanche with 
 her. This was Friday, and they were expected home again 
 on the morrow 
 
 Presently Tom, who was observant in his way, remarked 
 that my father was taking nothing. Even his coffee stood 
 before him untouched. 
 
 "Will you not take some toast, sir ? " asked Leah. 
 " Presently," said he, and went on musing as before. 
 " What are you thinking about, papa ? " 
 "Well, Charley, I — I was thinking of my dream," he 
 answered. " I suppose it teas a dream," he went on, as if to 
 himself. " But it was curious." 
 
 " Oh, please tell it us I " I cried. " I dreamt on Christ- 
 mas night that I had a splendid plum-cake, and was cutting 
 it up into huge slices. It didn't come true, though." 
 
 " Well — it was towards morning," he said, still speaking 
 dreamily, his eyes looking straight out before him as if he 
 were recalhng it, yet evidently seeing nothing. " I awoke 
 suddenly with the sound of a voice in my ear. It was your 
 mother's voice, Charley ; your own mother's ; and she 
 seemed standing at my bedside. ' I am coming for you,' 
 she said — or seemed to say. I was wide awake in a moment, 
 and kjiew her voice perfectly. Curious, was it not, Leah ? '
 
 CHANGES. 19 
 
 Leah was cutting bread aud butter for Tom. 
 
 " Yes, sir," she answered, gazing at the Rector. *' Did 
 you see anything, sir ? " 
 
 " No ; not exactly," he returned. " I was conscious that 
 Avhoever spoke to me, stood close to my bedside ; and I was 
 also conscious that the figure retreated across the room 
 towards the window. I cannot say that I absolutely saw 
 the movement ; it was more like some shadowy presence in 
 the room. It was very odd. Somehow I can't get it out 
 
 of my head Why, here's Penthorn 1 " he broke oif to 
 
 say. 
 
 Mr. Penthorn had opened the gate, and was walking 
 briskly up the path. He was our doctor : a grey-haired 
 man, active and lively, and friendly with us all. He had 
 looked in, in passing back to the village, to tell the Rector 
 that a parishioner, to whom he had been called up in the 
 night, was in danger. 
 
 " I'll go and sec her," said my father. " You'd be none 
 the worse for a cup of coffee, Penthorn. It is sharp 
 weather." 
 
 " Well, perhaps I shouldn't," said he, sitting down, while 
 Tom went off to the kitchen for a cup and saucer. " Sharp 
 enough, but seasonable. Is anything wrong with you, Leah ? 
 Indigestion again ? " 
 
 This caused us to look at Leah. She was whiter than the 
 table-cloth. 
 
 " No, sir ; I'm all right," answered Leah, as she took the 
 cup from Tom's hand and filled it with coffee and hot milk. 
 '' Something the master has been telling us scared me at the 
 moment, that's all." 
 
 " And what was that ? " asked the ])octor lightly. 
 
 So the story had to be gone over again, rather more 
 elaborately. Mr. Penthorn was sceptical, and said it was a 
 dream.
 
 2a THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE, 
 
 " I have just said so too," assented my father. " But, in 
 one sense, it was certainly not a dream. I had not been 
 dreaming at all, to my knowledge ; have not the least 
 recollection of doing so. I woke up fully in a moment, 
 with the voice ringing in my ears." 
 
 "The voice must have been pure fancy," declared Mr. 
 Penthorn. 
 
 " That it certainly was not," said the Rector. " I never 
 heard a voice more plainly in my life ; every tone, 
 every word was distinct and clear. No, Penthorn ; that 
 some one spoke to me is certain ; the puzzle is — who 
 was it ? " 
 
 " Some one must have got into your room, then," said the 
 Doctor. 
 
 " Impossible ! " cried my father. It was her voice, Pen- 
 thorn, my late wife's. I had never heard it since she left 
 us ; and it has brought back all its familiar tones to my 
 memory." 
 
 The Doctor helped himself to some bread and butter, and 
 gave his head a shake. 
 
 "Besides," resumed the Rector, " no one else ever addressed 
 me as she did — ' Eustace.' I have not been called Eustace 
 since my mother died, many years ago, except by her. My 
 present wife has never called me by it." 
 
 That was true. Mrs. Strange had a pet name for him — 
 " Hubby." 
 
 " Well, I give it up," said Mr. Penthorn, finishing his 
 coffee. " If you were awake, Strange, some one must have 
 been essaying a little slcight-of-haud upon you. Good- 
 morning, all of you ; I must be off to my patients. Tom 
 lleriot, don't get trying the ponds yet, or I may have you 
 on my hands as well as other people." 
 
 We gave it up also. My father went about his duties as 
 usual, and Leah went about hers. The nest day, Saturday,
 
 CHANGES. 21 
 
 Mrs. Strange and Blanche returned home ; and the cold 
 grew sharper and the frozen ponds were lovely. 
 
 On Monday afternoon, the last day of the year, the Rector 
 mounted old Dobbin, to ride to the next parish. He had 
 to take a funeral for the incumbent, who was in bed with 
 gout, 
 
 " Have his shoes been roughed ? " asked Tom, standing 
 at the gate with me to watch the start. 
 
 " Yes ; and well roughed too, Master Tom," spoke up 
 James, who had lived with us longer than I could remember, 
 as gardener, groom, and general man- of -all-work. " 'Tisn't 
 weather, sir, to send him out without being rough-shod." 
 
 " You two boys had better get to your Latin for an hour, 
 and prepare it for to-morrow ; and afterwards you may go 
 to the ponds," said my father, as he rode away. " Goodr 
 bye, lads. Take care of yourself, Charley." 
 
 " Bother I^atin ! " said Tom. " I'm going off now, 
 Will you come, youngster ? " 
 
 " Not till I've done my Latin." 
 
 " Senseless young donkey ! Stay, though ; I must tell 
 mamsie something." 
 
 He made for the dining-room, where Mrs. Strange sat 
 with Blanche. " Look here, mamsie," said he ; " let us 
 have a bit of a party to-night." 
 
 " A party, Tom ! " she returned. 
 
 '* Just the young Penthorns and the Glints." 
 
 " Oh, do, mamma ! " I cried, for I was uncommonly fond 
 of parties. And " Do, mamma ! " struck in little Blanche. 
 
 My new mother rarely denied us anything ; but she 
 hesitated now. 
 
 " I think not to-night, dears. You know we ai'e going 
 to have the school-treat to-morrow evening, and the servants 
 are busy with the cakes and things. They shall come on 
 Wednesday instead, Tom."
 
 22 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Tom laughed. "They muM come to-morrow, mamsie, 
 They are coming. I have asked them." 
 
 " "What — the young Penthorns ? " 
 
 " And the young CHnts," said Tom, clasping his step- 
 mother, and kissing her. "They'll be here at five o'clock. 
 ]Mind you treat us to plenty of tarts and cakes, there's a 
 good mamsie ! " 
 
 Tom went off with his skates. I got to my books. After 
 that, some friends called, and the afternoon seemed to pass 
 in no time. 
 
 " It is hardly worth while your going to the ponds now, 
 Master Charles," said Leah, meeting me in the passage, 
 when I was at last at liberty. 
 
 In looking back I think that I must have had a very 
 obedient nature, for I was ever willing to listen to orders 
 or suggestions, however unpalatable they might be. Passing 
 through the back-door, the nearest way to the square pond, 
 to which Tom had gone, I looked out. Twilight was already 
 setting in. The evening star twinkled in a clear, frosty 
 sky. The moon shone like a silver shield. 
 
 " Before you could get to the square pond, Master Charley, 
 it would be dark," said Leah, as she stood beside me. 
 
 " So it would," I assented. " I think I'll not go, Leah." 
 
 I went back to the parlour. Leah walked to the side 
 gate, wondering (as she said afterwards) what had come to 
 the milkman, for he was generally much earlier. As she 
 stood looking down the lane, she saw Tom stealing up. 
 
 " He has been in some mischief," decided Leah. " It's 
 not like Mm to creep up in that timorous fashion. Good 
 patience ! Why, the lad must have had a fright ; his face 
 is white as death," 
 
 " Leah ! " said the boy, shrinking as he glanced over his 
 shoulder. " Loah ! " 
 
 " Well, what on earth is it ? " asked Leah, feeling a little
 
 CHANGES. 23 
 
 dread lierself. " What have you been up to at that pond ? 
 You've not been in it yourself, I suppose ! " 
 
 " Papa— the parson — is lying in the road by the triangle, 
 all pale and still. He does not move.' 
 
 Whenever Master Tom Heriot saw a chance of frightening 
 the kitchen with a fable, he plunged into one. Leah peered 
 at him doubtfully in the fading light. 
 
 " I think ho is dead. I'm sure he is," continued Tom, 
 bursting into tears. 
 
 This convinced Leah. She uttered a faint cry. 
 
 " We took that way back from the square pond ; I, and 
 .Joe and Bertie Penthorn. They were going home to get 
 ready to come here. Then we saw something lying near 
 the triangle, close to that heap of flint-stones. It was 
 Mm, Leah. Oh ! what is to be done ? I can't tell mamma, 
 or poor Charley." 
 
 James ran up, all scared, as Tom finished speaking. He 
 had found Dobbin at the stable-door, without sign or token 
 of his master. 
 
 Even yet I cannot bear to think of that dreadful night. 
 We had to be told, you see ; and Leah lost no time over it. 
 While Tom came home with the news, Joe Penthorn had 
 run for his father, and Bertie called to some labourers who 
 were passing on the other side of the triangle. 
 
 He was brought home on a litter, the men carrying it, 
 Mr. Penthorn walking by its side. Though not dead, he 
 was quite unconscious. They put a mattress on the study- 
 table, and laid him on it. 
 
 He had been riding home from the funeral. Whether 
 Dobbin, usually so sure-footed acd steady, had plunged his 
 foot into a rut just glazed over with ice, and so had stumbled ; 
 or whether something had startled him and caused him to 
 swerve, we never knew. The Rector had been thrown 
 violently, his head striking the stones.
 
 24 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Mr. Penthorn did not leave the study. Two other 
 surgeons, summoned in haste from the neighbouring town, 
 joined him. They could do nothing — nothing. My father 
 never recovered consciousness, and died during the night — 
 about a quarter before three o'clock. 
 
 " I knew he would go just at this time, sir," whispered 
 Leah to Mr. Penthorn as he was leaving the house and she 
 ■opened the front-door for him. " I felt sure of it when 
 the doctors said he would not see morning light. It was 
 just at the same hour that he had his call, sir, three nights 
 ago. As sure as that he is now lying there dead, as sure 
 as that those stars are shining in the heavens above us, that 
 teas his uwuing" 
 
 " Nonsense, Leah ! " reproved Mr. Penthorn sharply. 
 
 Chances and changes. The world is full of them. A 
 short time and White Littleham Rectory knew us no more. 
 The Reverend Eustace Strange was sleeping his last sleep 
 in the churchyard by his wife's side, and the Reverend John 
 Ravensworth was the new Rector. 
 
 Tom Heriot went back to school. I was placed at one 
 chosen for me by my great-uncle, Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar. 
 Leah Williams left us to take service in another family, 
 who were about to settle somewhere on the Continent. 
 She could not speak from emotion when she said good-bye 
 to me. 
 
 " It must be for years, Master Charles, and it may be for 
 ever," she said, taking, I fancy, the words from one of the 
 many favourite ditties, martial or love-lorn, she treated us 
 to in the nursery. " No, we may never meet again in tliis 
 life, Master Charles. All the same, I hope we shall." 
 
 And meet we did, though not for years and years. And 
 it would no doubt have called forth Leah's indignation had 
 I foretold hoAV, when that meeting came in after-life, she
 
 CUANGES, 25 
 
 would purposely witlihokl her identity from me and pass 
 herself off as a stranger. 
 
 Mrs. Strange went to London, Blanche with her, to take 
 up for the present her abode with her old aunt, who had 
 invited her to do so. She was little, if any, better off in 
 this second widowhood than she had been as the widow of 
 Colonel Heriot. What my father had to leave he left to 
 her ; but it was not much. I had my own mother's 
 money. And so we were all separated again ; all divided : 
 one here, another there, a tliird elsewhere. It is the way 
 of the world.
 
 26 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MR. SERJEANT STILLINGFAR. 
 
 Gloucester Place, Portman Square. In one of its hand- 
 some houses — as they are considered to be by persons of 
 moderate desires — dwelt its owner, Major Carlen. Major 
 Carlen was a man of the world ; a man of fashion. When 
 the house had fallen to him some years before by the will 
 of a relative, with a substantial sum of money to keep it 
 up, he professed to despise the house to his brother-oflficers 
 and other acquaintances of the great world. He would 
 have preferred a house in Belgrave Square, or in Grosvenor 
 Place, or in Park Lane. Major Carlen was accustomed to 
 speak largely ; it was his way. 
 
 Since then, he had retired from the army, and was 
 master of himself, his time and his amusements. Major 
 Carlen was fond of clubs, fond of card-playing, fond of 
 dinners ; fond, indeed, of whatever constitutes fast life. 
 His house in Gloucester Place was handsomely furnished, 
 replete with comfort, and possessed every reasonable 
 requisite for social happiness — even to a wife. And Major 
 Carlen's wife was Jessie, once Mrs. Strange, once Mrs. 
 Heriot. 
 
 It is quite a problem why some women cannot marry at 
 all, try to do so as they may, whilst others become wives 
 three and four times over, and without much seeking of 
 their own. Mrs. Heriot (to give her her first name) was
 
 MR. SERJEANT STILLINGFAR. 27 
 
 one of these. In very little more than a year after her 
 first husband died, she married her second ; in not any 
 more than a year after her second husband's death, she 
 married her third. Major Carlen must have been capti- 
 vated by her pretty face and purring manner ; whilst she 
 fell prone at the feet of the man of fashion, and perhaps a 
 very little at the prospect of being mistress of the house in 
 Gloucester Place. Anyway, the why and the wherefore lay 
 between themselves. Mrs. Strange became Mrs. Carlen. 
 
 Reading over thus far, it has struck me that you may 
 reasonal^ly think the story is to consist chiefly of marrying 
 and dying ; for there has been an undue proportion of both 
 events. Not so : as you will find as you go on. Our 
 ancestors do marry and die, you know : and these first 
 three chapters are only a prologue to the story which has 
 to come. 
 
 Christmas has come round again. Not the Christmas 
 following that which ended so disastrously for us at "White 
 Littleham Rectory, but one five years later. 
 
 It had been a green Christmas this year. We were now 
 some days past it. The air was mild, the skies were blue. 
 Newspapers told of violets and other fiowers growing in 
 nooks, sheltered and unsheltered. Mrs. Carlen, seated by a 
 well-spread table, a sort of high tea, in the dining-room at 
 Gloucester Place, declared that the fire made the room too 
 warm. I was reading. Blanche, a very fair and pretty 
 girl, now ten years old, sat on a stool on the hearthrug, her 
 light curls tied back with blue ribbons. We were awaiting 
 an arrival. 
 
 " Listen, Charles ! " cried my mother. " I think a cab 
 is stopping." 
 
 I put down my book, and Blanche threw back her head 
 and her blue ribbons in expectation. But the cab went on.
 
 28 THE STORY OP CHAELES STRANGE. 
 
 " lb is just like Tom ! " smiled Mrs. Carlen. " Nothing 
 ever put him out as it does other people. He gives us one 
 hour and means another. He said seven o'clock, so we may 
 expect him at ten. I do wish he could-have obtained leave 
 for Christmas Day ! " 
 
 Major Carlen did not like children, boys especially ; yet 
 Tom Heriot and I had been allowed to spend our holidays 
 at his house, summer and winter. Mrs. Carlen stood partly 
 in the light of a mother to us both ; and I expect our 
 guardians paid substantially for the privilege. Tom was 
 nearly eighteen, and had had a commission given him in a 
 crack regiment ; partly, it was said, through the interest of 
 Major Carlen. I was between fifteen and sixteen. 
 
 " I'm sure you children must be famishing," cried Mrs. 
 Carlen. " It wants five minutes to eight. If Tom is not 
 here as the clock strikes, we will begin tea." 
 
 The silvery bell had told its eight strokes and was dying 
 away, when a cab dashing past the door suddenly pulled up. 
 No mistake this time. We heard Tom's voice abusing the 
 driver — or, as he called it, " pitching into him " — for not 
 looking at the numbers. 
 
 What a fine, handsome young fellow he had grown ! 
 And how joyously he had met us all ; folding mother, 
 brother and sister in one eager embrace. Tom Heriot was 
 careless and thoughtless as it was possible for any one to be, 
 but he was warm-hearted and affectionate. When trouble, 
 and something worse, fell upon him later, and he became a 
 town's talk, people called him bad-hearted amongst oth'ir 
 reproaches ; but they were mistaken. 
 
 " Why, Charley, how you have shot up ! " he cried gaily. 
 " You'll soon overtake me." 
 
 I shook my head. " While I am growing, Tom, you will 
 be growing also." 
 
 " What was it you said in your last letter ? " he went
 
 MR. SERJEANT STiLLINGFAR. 2"J 
 
 on, as wc bcgau tea. *' That you were going to leave 
 school ? " - * 
 
 " Well, I fancy so, Tom. Uncle Stillingfar gave noticd 
 at Michaelmas." 
 
 " Thinks you know enough, eh, lad ? " 
 I could not say much about that. That I was unusually 
 well educated for my years there could be no doubt about, 
 especially in the classics and French. My father had laid a 
 good foundation to begin with, and the school chosen for 
 me was a first-rate one. The French resident master had 
 taken a liking to me, and had me much with him. Once 
 during the midsummer holidays he had taken me to stay 
 with his people in France : to Abbeville, with its interesting 
 old chm-ch and market-place, its quaint costumes and 
 uncomfortable inns. Altogether, I spoke and wrote French 
 almost as well as he did. 
 
 " What are they going to make of you, Charley ? Is it 
 as old StilUngfar pleases ? " 
 " I think so. I dare say they'll put me to the law." 
 " Unfortunate martyr ! I'd rather command a pirate- 
 boat on the high seas than stew my brains over dry law- 
 books and musty parchments ! " 
 
 * " Tastes differ," struck in Miss Blanche. " And you are 
 not going to sea at all, Tom." 
 
 "Tastes do differ," smiled Mrs. Carlen. "I should 
 think it much nicer to harangue judges and law courts in a 
 silk gown and wig, Tom, than to put on a red coat and go 
 out to be shot at." 
 
 " Hark at the mamsie ! " cried Tom, laughing. " Charley, 
 give me some more tongue. Where's the Major to-night ? " 
 The Major was dining out. Tom and I were always best 
 pleased when he did dine out. A pompous, boasting sort of 
 man, I did not like hun at all. As Tom put it, we would 
 at any time rather have his room than his company.
 
 30 THE STOEY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 The days I am writing of are not these days. Boys left 
 school earlier then than now. I suppose education was not 
 so comprehensive as it is now made : but it served us. It 
 was quite a usual thing to place a lad out in the world at 
 fourteen or fifteen, whether to a profession or a trade. 
 Therefore httle surprise was caused at home by notice 
 having been given of my removal from school. 
 
 At breakfast, next morning, Tom began laying out plans 
 for the day. " I'll take you to this thing, Charley, and I'll 
 take you to that." Major Carlen sat in his usual place at 
 the foot of the table, facing his wife. An imposing-looking 
 man, tall, thin and angular, who must formerly have been 
 handsome. He had a large nose with a curious twist in it ; 
 white teeth, which he showed very much ; light gray eyes 
 that stared at you, and hair and whiskers of so brilliant a 
 black that a suspicious person might have said they were 
 dyed. 
 
 " I thought of taking you boys out myself this afternoon," 
 spoke the Major. "To see that horsemanship which is 
 exhibiting. I hear it's very good. Would you like to go ? " 
 
 We said we should like it ; said it in surprise, for it was 
 almost the first time he had ever offered to take us any- 
 where. 
 
 " Charles cannot go," hastily interrupted Mrs. Carlen, 
 who had at length opened a letter which had been lying 
 beside her place. " This is from Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar, 
 Charley. He asks me to send you to his chambers this 
 afternoon. You are to be there at three o'clock." 
 
 " Just like old Stillingfar ! " cried Tom, resentfully. Con- 
 sidering that he did not know much of Serjeant Stillingfar, 
 and had very little experience of his ways, the reproach was 
 gratuitous. 
 
 Major Carlen laughed. " We must put off the horseman- 
 ship to another day," said he. " It will come to the same
 
 MR. SERJEANT STILLTNGFAR. 31 
 
 tliinp:. I will take you out somcwliere, instead of the boys, 
 Blancliie," 
 
 Taking an omnibus in Oxford Street, when lunch was 
 over, I went down to Lincoln's Inn. The reader may hardly 
 believe that I had never been to my uncle's chambers before, 
 though I had sometimes been to his house. He seemed to 
 have kept me at a distance. His rooms were on the first 
 floor. On the outer door were the words " Mr. Serjeant 
 Stillingfar." 
 
 " Come in," cried a voice, in answer to my knock. And 
 I entered a narrow little room. 
 
 A pert-looking youth with a quantity of long, light curly 
 hair and an eye-glass, and not much older than myself, sat 
 on a stool at a desk, beside an unoccupied chair. He eyed 
 me from head to foot. I wore an Eton jacket and turn- 
 down collar ; he wore a " tail " coat, a stand-up collar, and 
 a stock. 
 
 " What do ijou want ? " he demanded. ■ 
 
 " I want Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar." 
 
 " Not in ; not to be seen. You can come another day." 
 
 " But I am here by appointment." 
 
 The young gentleman caught up his eye-glass, fixed it, 
 and turned it on me. *' I don't think you are expected," 
 said he coolly. 
 
 Now, though he had been gifted with a stock of native 
 impudence, and a very good stock it was at his time of life, 
 I had been gifted with native modesty. I waited in silence, 
 not kuowino- what to do. Two or three chairs stood about. 
 He no doubt would have tried them all in succession, had 
 it suited him to do so. I did not care to take one of them. 
 
 " Will my uncle be long, do you know ? " I asked. 
 
 " Who is your uncle ? " 
 
 " Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar." 
 
 He put up his glass again, which had dropped, and stared
 
 32 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 at me harder than before. At this juncture an inner door 
 was opened, and a middle-aged man in a black coat and 
 white neckcloth came through it. 
 
 " Are you Mr. Strange ! " he inquired, quietly and 
 courteously 
 
 " Yes. My uncle, Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar, wi'ote to tell 
 me to be here at three o'clock." 
 
 " I know. Will you step in here ? The Serjeant is in 
 Court, but will not be long. As to you, young Lake, if you 
 persist in exercising your impudent tongue upon all comers, 
 I shall request the Serjeant to put a stop to your sitting 
 here at all. How many times have you been told not to 
 take upon yourself to answer callers, but to refer them to 
 me when Michael is out ? " 
 
 "About a hundred and fifty, I suppose, old Jones. 
 Haven't counted them, though," retorted Mr. Lake. 
 
 " Impertinent young rascal ! " ejaculated Mr. Jones, as 
 he took me into the next room, and turned to a little desk 
 that stood in a corner. He was the Serjeant's confidential 
 clerk, and had been with him for years. Arthur Lake, 
 beginning to read for the Bar, was allowed by the Serjeant 
 and his clerk to sit in their chambers of a day, to pick up 
 a little experience. 
 
 " Sit down by the fire, Mr. Strange," said the clerk. " It 
 is a warm day, though, for the season. I expected the 
 Serjeant in before this. He will not be long now." 
 
 Before I had well taken in the bearings of the room, 
 which was the Serjeant's own, he came in, wearing his silk 
 gown and gi'ay wig. He was a little man, growing elderly 
 now, with a round, smooth, fair face, out of which twinkled 
 kindly blue eyes. Mr. Jones got up from his desk at once 
 to divest him of wig and gown, producing at the same time 
 a miniature flaxen wig, which the Serjeant put upon his 
 head.
 
 MR. SERJEANT STILLINGFAR. 33 
 
 " So you have come, Charles ! " he said, shakiug liands 
 with me as he sat down in a large elbow-chair. Mr. Jones 
 went out with his arm full of papers and shut the door 
 upon us. 
 
 " Yes, sir," I answered. 
 
 "You will be sixteen next May, I believe," he added. 
 Ho had the mildest voice and manner imaginable ; not at 
 all what might be expected in a serjeant-at-law who was 
 supposed to take the Court by storm on occasion. " And 
 I understand from your late master that in all your studies 
 you are remarkably well advanced." 
 
 " Pretty well, I think, sir," I answered modestly, 
 
 "Ay. I am glad to hear you speak of it in a proper 
 sort of way. Always be modest, lad ; true merit ever is so. 
 It tells, too, in the long run. Well, Charles, I think it 
 time that you were placed out in life." 
 
 " I suppose it is, sir." 
 
 " Is there any calling that you especially fancy ? Any 
 one profession you would prefer above another ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; I don't know that there is. I have always 
 had an idea that it would be the law. I think I should 
 prefer that." 
 
 "Just so," he answered, the faint pink in his smooth 
 cheeks growing deeper with gratification. "It is what I 
 have always intended you to enter — provided you had no 
 insuperable objection to it. But I shall not make a 
 barrister of you." 
 
 " No ! " I exclaimed. " What then ? " 
 
 " An attorney-at-law." 
 
 I was too much taken by surprise to answer at once. 
 " Is that — a gentleman's calling. Uncle Charles ? " I at 
 length took courage to ask. 
 
 " Ay, that it is, lad," he impressively rejoined. " It's 
 true you've no chance of the Woolsack or a judgeship, or 
 
 D
 
 U THE STOEY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 even of becoming a pleader, as I am. If you had a ready- 
 made fortune, you might eat your dinners, get called, and 
 risk it. But you have not ; and I will not be the means 
 of condemning the best years of your life to anxious 
 jDoverty." 
 
 I only looked at him, without speaking, and he must 
 have seen disappointment in my face. 
 
 " Listen," he resumed, bending forward impressively : 
 " I will tell you a httle of my past experience. My people 
 thought they were doing a great thing for me when they 
 put me to the Bar. I thought the same. I was called in 
 due course, and donned my stuff gown and wig in the glory 
 cast by the glamour of hope. How long my mind main- 
 tained that glamour ; how long it was before it began to 
 give place to doubt ; how many years it took to merge 
 doubt into despair, I cannot tell you. I think something 
 like fifteen or twenty." 
 
 " Fifteen or twenty years ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Not less. I was steady, persevering, sufficiently clever. 
 Yet practice did not come to me. It is all a lottery. I 
 had no fortune ; no one to help me. I was not clever at 
 Writing for the newspapers and magazines, as many of my 
 fellows were. And for more years than I care to recall I 
 had a hard struggle for existence. I was engaged to be 
 married. She was a sweet, patient girl, and we waited 
 until we were both bordering upon middle age. Ay, I was 
 forty years old before practice began to flow in upon me. 
 The long lane had taken a turning at last. I flew in then 
 with a vengeance — more work than I could possibly 
 undertake," 
 
 " And did you marry, then ? " I asked ; for I had never 
 heard of his having a wife. 
 
 " No, lad ; she was dead. I think she died of waiting." 
 
 I drew a long breath, deeply interested.
 
 MR. SERJEANT STILLINGFAR. 3S 
 
 " There tire scores of youug fellows starving upon hope 
 now, as I starved then, Charles. The market is terribly 
 overstocked. For ten barristers striving to rush into note 
 in my days, you may count twenty or thirty in these. I 
 will not have you swell the lists. My brother's grandson 
 shall never, with my consent, waste his best years in fight- 
 ing with poverty, w\aiting for luck that may never come to 
 him." 
 
 " I suppose it is a lottery, as you say, sir." 
 
 "A lottery where blanks far outweigh the prizes," he 
 assented. "A lottery into which you shall not enter. 
 No ; you shall be spared that. As a lawyer, I can make 
 your progress tolerably sure. You may be a rich man in 
 time if you will, and an honourable one. I have sounded 
 my old friend, Henry Brightman, and think he is willing 
 to take you." 
 
 " I am afraid I should not make a good pleader, sir," 
 I acknowledged, falling in with his views. "I can't 
 speak a bit. "We had a debating-club at school, and in the 
 middle of a speech I always lost myself." 
 
 He nodded, and rose. " You shaU not try it, my boy. 
 And that's all I have to say to you to-day, I only wanted 
 to sound your views before making arrangements with 
 Brightman." 
 
 " Has he a good practice, sir ? " 
 
 " He has a very large and honourable practice ; is a good 
 man and a gentteman,^'' concluded the Serjeant emphati- 
 cally. "All being well, you may become his partneu. 
 sometime." 
 
 " Am I not to go to Oxford, sir ? " I asked wistfully. 
 
 " If you particularly wish to do so and circumstancea 
 permit it, you may perhaps keep a few terms when you are 
 out of your articles," he replied, with hesitation. " We 
 shall see when that time comes."
 
 36 THE STOEY OB^ CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " What a shame ! " exclaimed Mrs, Carlou, when I 
 reached home. " IMakc a lawyer of you ! That he never 
 shall, Charles. I shall not allow it. Wc will go down and 
 remonstrate with him." 
 
 Major Carlen said it was a shame ; said it contemptuously. 
 Tom said it was a double-shame, and threw a host of hard 
 words upon Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar. 
 
 After breakfast, next morning, we hastened to Lincoln's; 
 Inn : I and Mrs. Carlen, for she kept her word. I should 
 be a barrister or nothing, she protested. All very fine to 
 say so ! She had no power over me whatever. That lay 
 with Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar and the other trustee, and 
 he never interfered. If they chose to article me to a 
 chimney-sweep instead of a lawyer, no one could say 
 them nay. 
 
 Mr. Jones and young Lake sat side by side at the desk 
 in the first room when we arrived. Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar 
 was in his own room. He received us very kindly, shaking 
 hands with Mrs. Carlen, whom he had seen occasionally. 
 Mrs. Carlen, sitting opposite to him, entered upon her 
 protest, and was meekly listened to by the Serjeant. 
 
 " Better be a successful attorney, madam, than a briefless 
 barrister," he observed, when she had finished. 
 
 " All barristers are not briefless," said Mrs. Carlen. 
 
 "A great many of them are," he answered. "Some 
 never make their mark at all ; live and die strao-fi-lino- men." 
 And, leaning forward in his chair — as he had leaned towards 
 me yesterday — he repeated a good deal that he had then 
 said of his own history ; his long-continued poverty and 
 hopeless struggles. Mrs. Carlen's heart melted. 
 
 " Yes, I know. It is very sad, dear Mr. Serjeant, and 
 I am sure your experience is only that of many others," 
 she sighed. " But, if I understand the matter rightly, the 
 chief trouble of these young barristers is their poverty.
 
 MR. SERJEANT STILLINGFAR. 3T 
 
 Had they means to live, they could wait patiently and com- 
 fortably until success came to them." 
 
 " Of course," he assented. " It is the want of private 
 means that makes the uphill path so hard." 
 
 " Charles has his three hundred a year." 
 
 The faint pink in his cheeks turned to crimson. I was 
 sitting beyond the table, and saw it. He glanced across 
 at me. 
 
 " It will take more money to make Charles a lawyer and 
 to ensure him a footing afterwards in a good house than 
 it would to got him called to the Bar," he said with a 
 smile. 
 
 " Yes — perhaps so. But that is not quite the argument," 
 said my step-mother. "Any young man who has three 
 hundred a year may manage to live upon it." 
 
 " It is to be hoped so. I know I should have thought 
 three hundred a year a perfect gold-mine." 
 
 " Then you see Charles need not starve while waiting 
 for briefs to come in to him. Do you not see that, Mr. 
 Serjeant ? " 
 
 " I sec it very clearly," he mildly said. " Had Charles 
 his three hundred a year to fall back upon, he might have 
 gone to the Bar had he liked, and risked the future." 
 
 " But he has it," Mrs. Carlen rejoined, surprise in her 
 tone. 
 
 " No, madam, he has it not. Xor two hundred a year, 
 nor one hundred." 
 
 They silently looked at one another for a full minute. 
 Mrs. Carlen evidently could not understand his meaning. 
 I am sure I did not. 
 
 " Charles's money, I am sorry to say, is lost," he 
 continued. 
 
 " Lost ! Since when ? " 
 
 " Since the bank-panic that we had nearly two years ago."
 
 38 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Mrs. Caiien collapsed. " Oh, clear ! " she breathed. 
 " Did you — pray forgive the question, Mr. Serjeant — did 
 you lose it .? Or the other trustee ? " 
 
 He shook his head. " No, no. We neither lost it, nor 
 are we responsible for the loss. Charles's grandfather, my 
 brother, invested the six thousand pounds, in bank deben- 
 tures to bring in five per cent. He settled the money 
 upon his daughter, Lucy, and upon her children after her, 
 making myself and our old friend, George Wickham, 
 trustees. In the panic of two years ago this bank u'ent; 
 its shares and its debentures became all but worthless." 
 
 " Is the money quite gone ? " gasped Mrs. Carlen. " Will 
 it never be recovered ? " 
 
 " The debentures are Charles's still, but they are for the 
 present almost worthless," he replied. " The bank went 
 on again, and if it can recover itself and regain prosperity, 
 Charles in the end may not greatly suffer. He may regain 
 his money, or part of it. But it will not be yet awhile. 
 The unused portion of the income had been sunk, year by 
 year, in further debentures, in accordance with the direc- 
 tions of the will. All went." 
 
 "But — some one must have paid for Charles all this 
 time — two whole years ! " she reiterated, in vexed surprise. 
 
 " Yes ! it has been managed," he gently said. 
 
 *' I think you must have paid for him yourself," spoke 
 Mrs. Carlen with impulse. " I think it is you who are 
 intending to pay the premium to Mr. Brightmau, and to 
 provide for his future expenses ? You are a good man, 
 Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar ! " 
 
 His face broke into a smile : the rare sweet smile which 
 so seldom crossed it. " I am only lending it to him. 
 Charley will repay mc when he is a rich man. But you 
 sec now, Mrs. Carlen, why a certainty will be better for 
 him than an uncertainty."
 
 MVu SErjEANT STILLINGFAE. 39 
 
 We saw it all too clearly, aud there was no more remon- 
 strance to be made. Mrs. Carlen rose to leave, just as Mr. 
 Jones came bustling into the room. 
 
 " Time is up, sir," he said to his master. " The Court 
 will be waiting." 
 
 "Ah, is it so? Good-morning, madam," he added, 
 politely dismissing her. " I shall send for you here again 
 in a day or two, Charles." 
 
 "Thank you for what you are doing for me, Uncle 
 Charles," I whispered. " It is very kind of you." 
 
 He laid his hand upon my shoulder affectionately, keep- 
 ing it there for a few seconds. And as we went out, the 
 last glimpse I had was of his kind, gentle face, and Mr. 
 Jones standing ready to assist him on with his wig aud 
 go^vn. 
 
 And we went back to Gloucester Place aware that my 
 destiny in hfe was settled.
 
 40 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IN ESSEX STREET. 
 
 Henry Brightman's offices were in Essex Street, Strand, 
 near the Temple. He rented the whole house : a capital 
 house, towards the bottom of the street on the left-hand 
 side as you go down. His father, who had been head of 
 the firm, had lived in it. But old Mr. Brightman was dead, 
 and his son, now sole chief, lived over the water on the 
 Surrey side, in a style his father would never have dreamt 
 of. It was a firm of repute and consideration ; and few 
 legal firms, if any, in London were more highly regarded. 
 
 To this gentleman my uncle articled me : and a gentleman 
 Henry Brightman was in every sense of the term : a slender 
 man of middle height, with a bright, pleasant face, quick, 
 dark eyes, and brown hair. Very much to my surprise, I 
 found, when arrangements were being made for me, that I 
 was to live in the house. Serjeant Stillingfar had made it 
 a condition that I should do so. He and the lafce Mr. 
 Brightman had been firm friends, and his friendship was 
 continued to Henry. An old lady, one Miss Methold, a 
 cousin of the Brightmans, resided in the house, and I was 
 to take up my abode with her. She was a kind old thing, 
 though a little stern and reserved, and made me very 
 comfortable. 
 
 There were several clerks ; and one articled pupil, who 
 was leaving the house as I entered it. The head of all wa,s
 
 IN ESSEX STREET. 41 
 
 a gentleman named Lennard, who seemed to take all manager 
 ment upon himself, under Mr. Brightman. Edgar Lennard 
 Avas a tall spare man, with a thin, fair, aristocratic face and 
 well-formed features. He looked about thirty-five years 
 old, and an impression prevailed in the oihce that he was 
 well-born, well-connected, and had come down in the world 
 through loss of fortune. A man of few words, attentive, 
 and always at his post, Lennard was an excellent superin- 
 tendent, ruling with a strict yet kindly hand. 
 
 One day, some weeks after I had entered, as I was at 
 dinner with Miss Methold in her sitting-room, and the 
 weather was warm enough for all doors to be open, we 
 heard horses and carriage-wheels dash up to the house. The 
 room was at the head of the stairs, leading from the offices 
 to the kitchen : a large, pleasant room with a window look- 
 ing towards the Temple chambers and the winding river. 
 
 " What a commotion ! " exclaimed Miss Methold. 
 
 I went to the door and saw an open barouche, with a 
 lady and a little girl inside it, attended by a coachman and 
 footman in livery. 
 
 " It is quite a grand carriage, Miss Methold." 
 
 " Oh," said she, looking over my shoulder, " it is Mrs. 
 Brightman." 
 
 " Very proud and high-and-mighty, is she not ? " I 
 rejoined, for the clerks had talked about her. 
 
 " She was born proud. Her mother was an earl's daughter, 
 and she'll be proud to the end," said the old lady. " Henry 
 keeps up great show and state for her. Of course, that is 
 his affair, not mine." ^ 
 
 "I hear he has a charming place at Clapham, Miss 
 Methold." 
 
 " So do I," she answered rather bitterly. " I have never 
 seen it." 
 
 " Never seen it ? " I echoed in surprise.
 
 42 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Never," she answered. " I have not even been invited 
 there by her. Never once. Mrs. Brightman despises her 
 husband's profession ; despises me as belonging to it, I 
 suppose, and as a poor relation. She lias never condescended 
 to get out of her carriage to enter the office here, and has 
 never asked to see me, here or there. Henry has invited 
 me down there once or twice when she was away from home, 
 but I have said, No, thank you." 
 
 Mr. Leunard came in. The clerks, one excepted, had 
 gone out to dinner. " Do you know whether it will be long 
 before Mr. Brightman comes in, or where he has gone to ? " 
 he said to Miss Methold. 
 
 " Indeed, I do not," she answered rather shortly. " I 
 only knew he was out by his not appearing now at luncheon." 
 
 " Charles, go to the carriage and tell Mrs. Brightman 
 that we don't know how long it may be before Mr. Bright- 
 man comes in," said he. 
 
 I rather wondered "why he could not go himself as I took 
 out the message to Mrs. Brightman. 
 
 She had a fair proud face, and her air was cold and 
 haughty as she listened to me. 
 
 " Let this be given to him as soon as he comes in," she 
 said, handing me a sealed note. " Eegent Street ; Oar- 
 bonell's," she added to the footman. 
 
 As the carriage turned and bowled away, I caught the 
 child's pretty face, a smile on her rosy lips and in her 
 laughing brown eyes. 
 
 I may as well say here that young Lake had struck up 
 an acquaintanceship with me. The reader may remember 
 that I saw him at the chambers of Mr. Serjeant Stilliugfar. 
 I grew to like him greatly. His faults were all on the 
 surface ; his heart was in the right place. Boy though he 
 was, he was thrown upon himself in the world. I don't 
 mean as to money, but as to a home ; and he steered his
 
 IN ESSEX STREET. 43 
 
 course nil scathed through its shoals. The few friends he 
 had Hvcd in the country. He had neitlier father nor 
 mother. His lodgings were in Norfolk Street, very near to 
 us. Miss Methold would sometimes have him in to spend 
 Sunday with me ; and now and then, but very rarely, ho 
 and I were invited for that day to dine with Mr. Serjeant 
 Stillingfar. 
 
 The Serjeant lived in Russell Square, one of its hand- 
 somest houses. But he kept, so to say, no establishment ; 
 just two or three servants and a modest brougham. He 
 must have been making a great deal of money at that time, 
 and I supposed he put it by. 
 
 " Ah ! you don't know, Charley," Lake said to me one 
 evening when I was in Norfolk Street, and we began talking 
 of him. " It is said his money went in that same precious 
 bank that devoured yours ; and it is thought that he lives 
 in this quiet manner, eschewing pomps and vanities, to be 
 able to help friends who were quite ruined by it. Old Jones 
 kuows a little, and I've heard him drop a word or two." 
 
 " I am sure my uncle is singularly good and kind. Those 
 simple-minded men generally are." 
 
 Lake nodded. " Few men, / should say, come up to 
 Serjeant Stillingfar." 
 
 A trouble had come to me in the early spring. I thought 
 it a great one, and grieved over it. Major Carlen gave up 
 his house in Gloucester Place, letting it furnished for a long 
 term, and went abroad with his wife. He might have gone 
 to the end of the world for ever and a day, but she was like 
 my second mother, and indeed ivas so, and I felt lost with- 
 out her. They took up their abode at Brussels. It would 
 be good for Blanche's education, Mrs. Carlen wrote to mc. 
 Other people said that the Major had considerably out-run 
 the constable, and went there to economize. Tom Heriot 
 was down at Portsmouth with his regiment.
 
 44 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 I think that is all I need say of this part of my life. I 
 liked my profession extremely, and got on well in it with 
 Mr. Brightman and the clerks, and with good old Miss 
 Methold. And so the years passed on. 
 
 The first change came when I was close upon twenty 
 years of age : came in the death of Miss Methold. After 
 that, I left Essex Street as a residence, for there was no 
 longer any one to rule it, and went into Lake's lodgings in 
 Norfolk Street, sharing his sitting-room and securing a bed- 
 room. And still a little more time rolled on. 
 
 It was Easter-tide. On Easter Eve, it happened that I 
 had remained in the office after the other clerks had left, to 
 finish some work in hand. In these days Saturday afternoon 
 has become a general holiday ; in those days a hohday was 
 unknown. 
 
 Writing steadily, I finished my task, and was locking up 
 my desk, which stood near the far window in the front room 
 on the ground floor, when Mr. Brightman, who had also 
 remained late, came down from his private room, and 
 looked in. 
 
 " Not gone yet, Charley ! " 
 
 " I am going now, sir ; have only just finished my 
 work." 
 
 " Some of the clerks are coming on Monday, I believe," 
 continued Mr. Brightman. " Arc you one of them ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. Mr. Lennard told me I might take holiday, 
 but I did not care about it. As I have no friends to spend 
 it with, it would not be much of a hohday to me. Arthur 
 Lake is out of town." 
 
 "And Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar on circuit," added Mr. 
 Brightman. 
 
 He paused and looked at me, as he stood near the dooi*. 
 I was gathering the pens together.
 
 IN ESSEX STREET. 45 
 
 " Have yoa no friends to dine wiLli, to-morrow —Easter 
 Day ? " 
 
 " Xo, sir. At least, I have not been asked anywhere. I 
 think I shall go for a blow up the river." 
 
 " A blow up the river ! " he repeated doubtfully. " Don't 
 you go to church ? " 
 
 " Always. I go to the Temple. I meant in the afternoon, 
 sir." 
 
 "Well, if you have no friends to dine with, you may 
 come and dine with me," said Mr. Brightmaii, after a 
 moment's consideration. *' Come down when service is over. 
 You will find an omnibus at Charing Cross." 
 
 The invitation pleased me. Some of the clerks would 
 have given their ears for it. Of course I mean the gentle- 
 men clerks ; not one of whom had ever been so favoured. 
 I had sometimes wondered that he never asked me, con- 
 sidering his intimacy with my uncle. But, I suppose, to 
 have invited me to his house and left out Miss Methold 
 would have been rather too pointed a slight upon her. 
 
 It was a fine day. The Temple service was beautiful, as 
 usual ; the anthem, " I know that my Redeemer liveth." 
 Afterwards I went forth to keep my engagement, and in 
 due time reached the entrance-gates of Mr. Brightman's 
 residence. 
 
 It was a large, handsome villa, enclosed in fine pleasure- 
 grounds, near Clapham. They lived in a good deal of style, 
 kept seven or eight servants and two carriages ; a large 
 barouche, and a brougham in which he sometimes came to 
 town. A well-appointed house, full of comfort and luxury. 
 Mr. Brightman was on the lawn when I reached it. 
 " Well, Charles ! I began to think you were late." 
 " I walked down, sir. The first two omnibuses were full, 
 and I would not wait for a third." 
 
 " Rather a long walk," he remarked with a smile. " But
 
 46 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 I should have done the sanie at your age. Diuuer will be 
 ready soon. We dine at three o'clock ou Sundays. It 
 allows ourselves and the servants to attend evening as well 
 as morning service." 
 
 He had walked towards the house as he spoke, and we 
 went in. The drawing-room and dining-room opened on 
 either side a large hall. In the former sat Mrs. Brightman. 
 I had seen her occasionally at the office door in her carriage, 
 but had never spoken to her after that first time. She was 
 considerably younger than Mr. Brightman, who must have 
 been getting towards fifty. A proud woman she looked as 
 she sat there ; her hair light and silky, her blue eyes dis- 
 dainful, her dress a rich purple silk, with fine white lace 
 about it. 
 
 " Here is Charles Strange at last," Mr. Brightman said to 
 her, and she replied by a slight bend of the head, without 
 offering to shake hands with me. 
 
 " I have heard of you as living in Essex Street," she 
 condescended to observe, as I sat down. " Your relatives 
 do not, I presume, live in London ? " 
 
 " I have not any near relatives," was my answer. " My 
 great-uncle lives in London, but is away just now." 
 
 " You were speaking of that great civil cause, Emma, 
 lately tried in the country ; and of the ability of the 
 defendants' counsel, Serjeant Stillingfar," put in Mr. 
 Brightman. " It is Serjeant Stillingfar, if you remember, 
 who is Charles's uncle." 
 
 " Oh, indeed," she said ; and I thought her manner 
 became rather more gracious. And ah, how gracious and 
 charming she could be when she pleased ! — when she was 
 amongst people whom she considered of her own rank and 
 degree. 
 
 " Where is Annabel ? " asked Mr. Brightman. 
 
 "She has gone dancing off somewhere," was Mrs.
 
 In ESSEX STREET. 4t 
 
 Brightman's reply. "I never saw such a cliiltl. She is 
 never five minutes together in one place." 
 
 Presently she danced in. A graceful, pretty child, 
 apparently about twelve, in a light-blue silk frock. She 
 wore her soft brown hair in curls round her head, and they 
 flew about as she flew, and a bright colour rose to her 
 cheelvs with every word she spoke, and her eyes were like 
 her father's— dark, tender, expressive. Xot any resem- 
 blance could I trace to her mother, unless it lay in the 
 same delicately-formed features. 
 
 We had a simple dinner ; a quarter of lamb, pastry and 
 creams. Mr. Brightman did not exactly apologize for it, 
 but explained that on Sundays they had as little cooking 
 as possible. But it was handsomely served, and there 
 were several sorts of wine. Three servants waited at table, 
 two in livery and the butler in plain clothes. 
 
 Some little time after it was over, Mr. Brightman left 
 the room, and Mrs. Brightman, without the least ceremony, 
 leaned back in an easy-chair and closed her eyes. I said 
 something to the child. She did not answer, but came to 
 me on tiptoe. 
 
 "If we talk, mamma will be angry," she whispered. 
 " She never lets me make a noise while she goes to sleep. 
 Would you like to come out on the lawn ? We may talk 
 there." 
 
 I nodded, and Annabel silently opened and passed out at 
 one of the French windows, holding it back for me. I as 
 silently closed it. 
 
 "Take care that it is quite shut," she said, "or the 
 draught may get to mamma. Papa has gone to his room 
 to smoke his cigar," she continued ; " and we shall have 
 coffee when mamma awakes. AVe do not take tea until 
 after church. Shall you go to church with us ? " 
 
 " I dare say I shall. Do you go ? '^
 
 48 THE STOKY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Of course I do. My governess tells me never to miss 
 attending church twice on Sundays, unless there is very 
 good cause for doing so, and then things will go well with 
 me in the week. But if I wished to stay at home, papa 
 would not let me. Once, do you know, I made an excuse 
 to stay away from morning service : I said my head ached 
 badly, though it did not. It was to read a book that had 
 been lent me, 'The Old English Baron.' I feared my 
 governess would not let me read it, if she saw it, because it 
 was about ghosts, so that I had only the Sunday to read it 
 in. Well, do you know, that next week nothing went right 
 with me ; my lessons were turned back, my drawing was 
 spoilt, and my French mistress tore my translation in two. 
 Oh, dear 1 it was nothing but scolding and crossness. So 
 at last, on the Saturday, I burst into tears and told Miss 
 Shelley about staying away from church and the false 
 excuse I had made. But she was very kind, and would 
 not punish me, for she said I had already had a whole 
 Aveek of punishment." 
 
 Of all the little chatterboxes ! *' Is Miss Shelley your 
 governess now ? " I asked her. 
 
 " Yes. But her mother is an invalid, so mamma allows 
 her to go home every Saturday night and come back on 
 Monday morning. Mamma says it is pleasant to have 
 Sunday to ourselves. But I like Miss Shelley very much, 
 and should be dull without her if papa were not at home. 
 I do love Sundays, because papa's here. Did you ever read 
 ' The Old English Baron ' .? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Shall I lend it you to take home ? " continued Annabel, 
 her cheeks glowing, her eyes sparkling with good-natm-c. 
 "I have it for my own now. It is a very nice book. 
 Have your sisters read it ? Perhaps you have no 
 sisters ? "
 
 IN ESSEX STREET. 49 
 
 " I have no real sisters, and my father and mother are 
 dead. I have " 
 
 " Oh dear, how sad I " interrupted Annabel, clasping her 
 hands. " Xot to have a father and mother ! Was it "— 
 after a pause — "you who lived with Miss Methold .? " 
 
 *' Yes. Did you know her ? " 
 
 " I knew her ; and I liked her— oh, very mueh. Papa 
 used to take me to sec her sometimes. With whom do you 
 live now ? " 
 
 " I live in lodgings'." 
 
 She stood looking at me with her earnest eyes— thoughtful 
 eyes just then. 
 
 " Then who sews the buttons on your shirts ? " 
 
 I burst into laughter. "My landlady professes to sew 
 them on, Annabel, but the shirts often go without buttons. 
 Sometimes I sew one on myself." 
 
 "If you had one off now, and it was not Sunday, I 
 would sew it on for you," said Annabel. "Why do yon 
 laugh ? " 
 
 "At your concern about my domestic affairs, my dear 
 little girl." 
 
 "But there's a gentleman who lives in lodgings and 
 comes here sometimes to dine with papa — he is older than 
 you — and he says it is the worst trouble of life to have no 
 one to sew his buttons on. Who takes care of you if you 
 are ill ? " she added, after another pause. 
 • " As there is no one to take care of me, I cannot afford 
 to be ill, Annabel. I am generally quite well." 
 
 "I am glad of that. Was your father a lawyer, like 
 papa ? " 
 
 " No. He was a clergyman." 
 
 " Oh, don't turn," she cried ; " I want to show you my 
 birds. We have an aviary, and they are beautiful. Papa 
 lets me call them mine ; and some of them are mine in 
 
 E
 
 50 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 reality, for they were bought for me. Mamma does not 
 care for birds." 
 
 Presently I asked Annabel her age. 
 
 " Fourteen." 
 
 " Fourteen ! " I exclaimed in surprise. 
 
 " I was fourteen in January. Mamma says I ought not 
 to tell people my age, for they will only think me more 
 childish ; but papa says I may tell every one." 
 
 She was, in truth, a child for her years ; especially as 
 age is now considered. She ran about, showing me every- 
 thing, her frock, her curls, her eyes dancing : from the 
 aviary to the fowls, from the fowls to the flowers : all 
 innocent objects of her daily pleasures, innocent and 
 guileless as she herself. 
 
 A smart-looking maid, with red ringlets flowing about 
 her red cheeks, and wide cap-strings flowing behind them, 
 came up. 
 
 " Why, here you are ! " she exclaimed. " I've been 
 looking all about for you, Miss Annabel. Your mamma 
 says you are to come in." 
 
 " We are coming. Hatch ; we were turning at that 
 moment,^' answered the child. " Is coffee ready "^ " 
 
 " Yes, Miss Annabel, and waiting." 
 
 In the evening we went to church, the servants following 
 at some distance. Afterwards we had tea, and then T rose 
 to depart. Mr. Brightman walked with me across the 
 lawn, and we had almost reached the iron gates when 
 there came a sound of swift steps behind us. 
 
 " Papa ! papa ! Is he gone ? Is Mr. Strange gone ? " 
 
 " What is the matter now ? " asked Mr. Brightman. 
 
 " I promised to lend Mr. Strange this : it is ' The 
 Old English Baron.' He has never read it." 
 
 " There, run back," said Mr. Brightman, as I turned and 
 took the book from her. " You will catch cold, Annabel."
 
 IN ESSEX STREET. 51 
 
 " What a charming child she is, sir ! " I could not help 
 exclaiming. 
 
 " She is that," ho replied. " A true child of nature, 
 knowing no harm and thinking none. Mrs. Brightman 
 complains that her ideas and manners are unformed ; no 
 style about her, no reserve. In my opinion that ought 
 to constitute a child's chief charm. All Annabel's parts 
 are good. Of sense, intellect, talent, she possesses her 
 full share ; and I am thankful that they are not pre- 
 maturely developed. I am thankful," he repeated Avith 
 emphasis, "that she is not a forward child. In my young 
 days, girls were girls, but now there is not such a thing 
 to be found. They are all women. I do not admire the 
 forcing system myself ; forced vegetables, forced fruit, 
 forced children : they are good for little. A genuine 
 child, such as Annabel, is a treasure rarely met with." 
 
 I thought so too.
 
 52 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WATTS'S WIFE. 
 
 Quitting the omnibus at Charing Cross, I was hastening 
 along the Strand on my way home, when I ran against 
 a gentleman swaggering along in a handsome capacious 
 cloak as if all the street belonged to him. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," I said, in apology. "I " 
 
 And there I broke off, for I thought I recognized him in 
 the gaslight. 
 
 " Why ! It is Major Carlen ! " 
 
 " Just so. And it is Charles Strange. How are you, 
 Charles ? " 
 
 " Have you lately come from Brussels ? " I asked, as 
 we shook hands. "And how did you leave Mrs. Carlen 
 and Blanche ? " 
 
 They are in Gloucester Place," he answered. " "We ah 
 came over last "Wednesday." 
 
 " I wonder they did not let me know it." 
 
 " Plenty of time, young man. They will not be going 
 away in a hurry. "We are settling down here again. You 
 can come up when you like." 
 
 "That will be to-morrow, then. Good-night, sir." 
 
 But it was not until Monday evening that I could get 
 away. Mr. Lennard went out in the afternoon on some 
 private matter of his own, and desired me to remain in 
 to see a cUent, who had sent us word he should call,'
 
 WATTS'S WIFE. 53 
 
 although it was Easter Monday. Mr. Brightinan did not 
 come to town that day. 
 
 Six o'clock was striking when I reached Gloucester 
 Place. Blanche ran to meet me in the passage, delighted 
 to see me. I think she was then about fourteen ; perhaps 
 fifteen. A fair, upright, beautiful girl, with the haughty 
 blue eyes of her childhood, and a shower of golden curls. 
 
 " Oh, Charley, I am so glad ! I thought you were never, 
 never coming to us." 
 
 " I did not know you were here until last night. You 
 should have sent me word." 
 
 " I told mamma so ; but she was not well ; is not well 
 yet. The journey tired her, and the sea was rough. Come 
 upstairs and see her, Charley. Papa has just gone out." 
 
 Mrs. Carlen sat over the fire in the drawing-room in an 
 easy-chair, a shawl upon her shoulders. It was a dull 
 evening, twilight not far off, and she sat with her back to 
 the light. It struck me that she looked thin and ill. I 
 had been over once or twice to stay with them in Brussels ; 
 the last time, eighteen months ago. 
 
 " Are you well, mam'ma ? " I asked as she kissed me — 
 for I had not left off calling her by the fond old childhood's 
 name. " You don't look so." 
 
 " The journey tired me, Charley," she answered — just as 
 Blanche had said. " I have a little cold, too. Sit down, 
 my boy." 
 
 " Have you come back here for good ? " I asked. 
 
 " Well, yes, I suppose so," she rephed with hesitation. 
 " For the present, at all events." 
 
 Tea was brought in. Blanche made it ; her mother 
 keeping to her chair and her shawl. The more I looked at 
 her, the greater grew the conviction that something was 
 seriously the matter with her. Major Carlen was dining 
 out, and they had dined in the middle of the day.
 
 54 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Alas ! I soon knew what was wrong. After tea, con- 
 triving to get rid of Blanche for a few minutes on some 
 plausible excuse, she told me all. An inward complaint 
 was manifesting itself, and it was hard to say how it might 
 terminate. The Belgian doctors had not been very reas- 
 suring upon the point. On the morrow she was going to 
 consult James Paget. 
 
 " Does Blanche know .? " I asked. 
 
 " Not yet, I must see Mr. Paget before saying anything 
 to her. If my own fears are confirmed, I shall tell her. 
 In that case I shall lose no time in placing her at school." 
 
 "At school !" 
 
 " Why, yes, Charley. What else can be done ? This 
 will be no home for her when I am out of it. I shall not 
 send her to an ordinary school, but to our old home. White 
 Littleham Rectory. Mr. and Mrs. Ravensworth are there 
 still ; she takes two or three pupils to bring up with her 
 own daughter, and will be glad of Blanche. There — we 
 will put that subject away for the present, Charley. I want 
 to ask you about something else, and Blanche will soon be 
 back again. Do you see much of Tom Heriot ? " 
 
 " I see him very rarely indeed. He is not quartered iu 
 London, you know." 
 
 " Charles, I am afraid — I am very much afraid that Tom 
 is wild," she went on, after a pause. " He came into his 
 money last year : six thousand pounds. We hear that he 
 has been launching out into all sorts of extravagance ever 
 since. That must mean that he is drawing on his capital." 
 
 I had heard a little about Tom's doings myself. At 
 least. Lake had done so, which came to the same thing. 
 But I did not say so. 
 
 " It distresses me much, Charles. You know how care- 
 less and improvident Tom is, and yet Jiow generous. He 
 will bring himself to ruin if he does not mind, and what
 
 WATTS'S WIFE. 55 
 
 would become of him then ? ]\Iajor Carlen says 
 
 Hush 1 here comes Blanche." 
 
 I cannot linger over this part of my story. Mrs, Carlen 
 died ; and Blanche was sent to "White Littleham. 
 
 And, indeed, of the next few years there is not much to 
 record. I obtained my certificate, as a matter of course. 
 Then I managed, by Mr. Brightman's kindness in sparing 
 me, and by my uncle's liberality, to keep a few terms at 
 Oxford. I was twenty-three when I kept the last term, 
 and then I was sent for some months to Paris, to make 
 mj'self acquainted with law as administered in the French 
 courts. That over, arrangements were made for my be- 
 coming Mr. Brightman's partner. If he had had sons, one 
 of them would probably have filled the position. Having 
 none, he admitted me on easy terms, for I had my brains 
 about me, as the saying runs, and was excessively useful to 
 the firm. A certain sum was paid down by Mr. Serjeant 
 Stillingfar, and the firm became Brightman and Strange. 
 I was to receive at first only a small portion of the profits. 
 And let me say here, that all my expenses of every descrip- 
 tion, during these past years, had^been provided for by that 
 good man, Charles Stillingfar, and provided liberally. So 
 there I was in an excellent position, settled for life when 
 only twenty-four years of age. 
 
 After coming home from Paris to enter upon these new 
 arrangements, I found Mr. Brightman had installed a 
 certain James Watts in Essex Street as care-taker and 
 messenger, our former man, Dickory, having become old 
 and feeble. A good change. Dickorv, in crowing old, 
 had grown fretful and obstinate, and liked his own way and 
 will better than that of his masters. Watts was obliging, 
 respectable and trustworthy. His wife's duties were to 
 keep the rooms clean, in which she was at liberty to have 
 in a woman to help once or twice a week if she so minded,
 
 50. THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 aud up to the present time to prepare Mr. Brightman's 
 daily luncheon. They lived in the rooms on the bottom 
 floor, one of which was their bedroom, 
 
 " I like them both," I said to Mr. Brightman, when I 
 had been back a day or two. " Things will be more com- 
 fortable now." 
 " Yes ; I hope you will find them so," he answered. 
 For it ought to be mentioned that, in becoming Mr. 
 Brightman's partner, it had been settled that I should 
 return as an inmate to the house. He said he should 
 prefer it. And, indeed, I thought I should also. So that 
 I had taken up my abode there at once. 
 
 The two rooms on the ground floor were occupied by the 
 clerks. Lennard had his desk in the back one. Miss 
 Methold's parlour, a few steps lower down, was now not 
 much used, excepting that a client was sometimes taken 
 into it. The large front room on the first floor was Mr. 
 Brightman's private room ; the back one was mine ; but 
 he had also a desk in it. These two rooms opened to one 
 another. The floor above this was wholly given over to 
 me ; sitting-room, bedroom, and dressing-room. The top 
 floor was only used for boxes, and on those rare occasions 
 when some one wanted to sleep at the office. Watts and 
 his wife were to attend to me ; she to see to the meals, he 
 to wait upon me. 
 
 " I should let her get in everything without troubling, 
 and bring up the bills weekly, were I you, Charles," 
 remarked BIr. Brightman, one evening when he had stayed 
 later than usual, and Avas in my room, aud we fell to talking 
 of the man and his wife. " Much better than to be coming 
 to you everlastingly, saying you want this and you want 
 that. She is honest, I feel sure, aud I had the best of 
 characters with both of them." 
 
 " She has an honest face," I answered. " But it looks
 
 WATTS'S WIFE. 57 
 
 sad. Aud what a silent woman she is. Speaking of her 
 face though, sir, it puts me in mind of some one's, aud I 
 caunot think whose." . 
 
 " You may have seen her somewhere or other," remarked 
 Mr. Brightman. 
 
 " Yes, but I can't remember where. I'll ask her." 
 
 Mrs. AYatts was then coming into the room with some 
 water, which Mr. Brightman had rung for. She looked 
 about forty-five years old ; a thin, bony woman of middle 
 height, with a pale, gray, ^ATinkled face, and gray hairs 
 banded under a huge cap, tied under her chin. 
 
 " There's something about your face that seems familiar 
 to me, Mrs. Watts," I said, as she put down the glass and 
 the bottle of water. " Have I ever seen you before ? " 
 
 " I can't say, sir," she answered in a low tone, without 
 looking at me. 
 
 " Do you remember me ? That's the better question." 
 
 She shook her head. " Watts and I lived in Ely Place 
 for some years before we came here, sir. It's not impos- 
 sible you may have seen me in the street when I was doing 
 the steps ; but I never saw you pass by that I know of." 
 
 " And before that, where did you live 1: " 
 
 " Before that, sir ? At Dover." 
 
 " Ah ! well," I said, for this did not help me out with 
 my puzzle ; " I suppose it is fancy." 
 
 " Captain Heriot, sir." 
 
 Sitting one evening in my room at dusk in the summer 
 weather, the window open to the opposite wall and the view 
 of the Thames, waiting for Lake to come in, Watts had 
 thus interrupted me to show in Tom Heriot. I started 
 up and grasped his hands. He was a handsome young 
 fellow, with the open manners that had charmed the world 
 in the days gone by, and charmed it still.
 
 6B THE STOBY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Charley, boy 1 It is good to see yon." 
 
 " Ay, and to see i/ou, Tom. Are you staying in London ? " 
 
 " Why, we have been here for days ! What a fellow you 
 are, not to know that we are now quartered here. Don't 
 you read the newspapers ? It used to be said, you remember, 
 that Charley lived in a wood." 
 
 I laughed. " And how are things with you, Tom ? " 
 
 " Rather down ; have been for a long time ; getting 
 badder and badder." 
 
 My heart gave a thump. In spite of his laughing air 
 and bright smile, I feared it might be too true. 
 
 " I am going to the deuce, headlong, Charley." 
 
 " Don't, Tom ! " 
 
 " Don't what ? Not go or not talk of it ? It is as sure 
 as death, lad." 
 
 " Have yon made ducks and drakes of your money ? " 
 
 " Fairly so. I think I may say so, considering that the 
 whole of it is spent." 
 
 " Oh, Tom 1 " 
 
 "Every individual stiver. But upon my honour as a 
 soldier, Charley, other jieople have had more of it than I. 
 A lot of it went at once, when I came into it, paying off 
 back debts." 
 
 " What shall you do ? You will never make your pay 
 suffice." 
 
 " Sell out, I expect." 
 
 " And then ? " 
 
 Tom shrugged his shoulders in answer. They were very 
 slender shoulders. His frame was slight altogether, suggest- 
 ing that he might not be strong. He was about as tall as 
 I — rather above middle height. 
 
 " Take a clerkship with you, at twenty shillings a week, 
 if you'd give it me. Or go out to the Australian diggings 
 to pick up gold. How grave you look, Charles ! "
 
 WATTS'S WIFE. 59 
 
 " It is a grave subject. But I hope you arc sayiug this 
 in joke, Tom." 
 
 "Half in joke, half in earnest. I will not sell out if 
 I can help it ; be sure of that, old fellow ; but I think it 
 will have to come to it. Have you anything to drink, 
 Charley ? " 
 
 " "Will you take some tea ? I am just going to have 
 mine. Or anything else instead ? " 
 
 " I was thinking of brandy and soda. But I don't mind 
 if I do try tea, for once. Ay, I will. Have it up, Charley." 
 
 I rang the bell, and ]\Irs. Watts brought it up. 
 
 " Anything else, sir ? " she asked. 
 
 " Not at present. AYatts has gone out with that letter, 
 I suppose ? Why, you have forgotten the milk ! " 
 
 She gave a sharp word at her own stupidity, and left the 
 room. Tom's eyes had been fixed upon her, following her 
 to the last. He began slowly pushing back his bright brown 
 hair, as he would do in his boyhood when anything puzzled 
 him. 
 
 "Oh, I remember," he suddenly exclaimed. "So you 
 have her here, Charley ! " 
 
 " Who here ? " 
 
 "Leah." 
 
 " Leah ! What do you mean ? " 
 
 " That servant of yours." 
 
 " That is our messenger's wife : Mrs. Watts." 
 
 " Mrs. Watts she may be now, for aught I know ; but 
 she was Leah Williams when we were youngsters." 
 
 " Impossible, Tom. This old woman cannot be Leah." 
 
 " I tell you it is Leah," he persisted. " No mistake about 
 it. At the ilrst moment I was puzzled. I have a good eye 
 for faces, but she is wonderfully altered. Do you mean to 
 say she has not made herself known to you ? " 
 
 I shook my head. But even as Tom spoke, little points
 
 60 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE, 
 
 of remembrance that had worried my brain began to clear 
 themselves bit by bit. Mrs. "Watts came in with the milk. ' 
 
 She had put it down on the tray when Tom walked up to 
 her, holding out his hand, his countenance all smiles, his 
 hazel eyes dancing. 
 
 " How are you, Leah, after all these years ? Shake hands 
 for auld lang syne. Do you sing the song still ? " 
 
 Leah gave one startled glance and then turned her white 
 face away with a sob. 
 
 " Come, come," said Tom, kindly. " I didn't want to 
 startle you, Leah." 
 
 " I didn't think you would know me, sir," she said, in very 
 woebegone tones. " Mr. Charles here did not." 
 
 " Not know you ! I should know you sooner than my 
 best sweetheart," cried Tom, gaily. 
 
 " Leah," I interposed, gravely turning to her, " why did 
 you not let me know who you were ? Why have you kept 
 it from me ? " 
 
 She stood with her back against Mr. Brightman's desk, 
 hot tears raining down her worn cheeks. 
 
 " I coiddti't tell you. Master Charles. I'm sorry you know 
 now. It's like a stab to me." 
 
 " But why could you not tell me ? " 
 
 "Pride, I suppose," she shortly said. "I was upper 
 servant at the Rectory ; your mamma's own maid, Mr. 
 Charles : and I couldn't bear you should know that I had 
 come down to this. A servant of all work— scrubbing floors 
 and washing dishes." 
 
 " Oh, that's nothing," struck in Tom, cheerfully. " Most 
 of us have our ups and downs, Leah. As far as I can fore- 
 see, I may be scouring out pots and pans at the gold- 
 diggings next year. I have just been saying so to Mr, 
 Charley. Your second marriage venture was an unlucky 
 one, I expect ? "
 
 WATTS'S WIFE. 61 
 
 Leah was crying silently. "No, it is not that," she 
 answered presently in low tones. " "Watts is a steady and 
 respectable man ; very much so ; above me, if anything. I 
 have had cares and crosses of my own, Mr. Tom ; I have 
 them always ; and they keep me down." 
 
 " Well, tell me what they are," said Tom. " I may be 
 able to help you. I will if I can." 
 
 Leah sighed and moved to the door. " You are just as 
 kind-hearted as ever, Mr. Tom ; I see that ; and I thank 
 you. Nobody can help me, sir. And my trouble is secret 
 to myself : one I cannot speak of to any one in the world." 
 
 Just as kind-hearted as ever ! Yes, Tom Heriot was so, 
 and always would be. Embarrassed as he no doubt was for 
 money, he slipped a gold piece into Leah's hand as she left 
 the room, whispering that it was for old friendship's sake. 
 
 And so that was Leah ! Back again waiting upon me, as 
 she had waited when I was a child. It was passing strange. 
 
 I spoke to her that night, and asked her to confide her 
 trouble to me. The bare suggestion seemed to terrify her. 
 
 " It was a dreadful trouble," she admitted in answer : 
 " a nightly and daily torment ; one that at times well-nigh 
 frightened her senses away. But she must keep it secret, 
 though she died for it." 
 
 And as Leah whispered this, she cast dread glances around 
 the walls on all sides, as though she feared that eaves- 
 droppers might be there. 
 
 What on earth could the secret be ? 
 
 And now, for a time, I retire into the background, and 
 cease to tell the story.
 
 G2 THE STORY OF CHAELES STEANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 BLxVNCHE HEEIOT. 
 
 On one of those promising days that we now and then see 
 in February, which seem all the more warm and lovely in 
 contrast with the passing winter, the parsonage of White 
 Littleham put on its gayest a]3pearance within — perhaps in 
 response to the fair face of nature without. A group of 
 four girls had collected in the drawing-room. One was 
 taking the brown holland covers from the chairs, sofa, and 
 footstools ; another was bringing out certain ornaments, 
 elegant trifles, displayed only on state occasions : the other 
 two were filling glasses with evergreens and hot-house 
 flowers. It was the same room in which you once saw poor 
 Mrs. Strange lying on her road to death. The parsonage 
 received three young ladies to share in the advantages of 
 foreign governesses, provided for the education of its only 
 daughter, Cecilia. 
 
 Whilst the girls were thus occupied, a middle-aged lady 
 entered, the mistress of the house, and wife of the 
 Keverend John Ravensworth. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Ravensworth, why did you come in ? We 
 did not want you to see it until it was all finished." 
 
 Mrs. Ravensworth smiled. "My dears, it Avill only 
 look as it has looked many a time before ; as it did at 
 Christmas " 
 
 "Mamma, you must excuse my interrupting you,"
 
 BLANCHE IIERIOT. 63 
 
 cried the young girl who ^Yas arranging the ornaments ; 
 " but it will look very different from then. At Christmas 
 we had wretched weather, and sec it to-day. And at 
 Christmas we had not the visitors we shall have now." 
 
 " We had one of the two visitors, at any rate, Cecilia." 
 
 " Oh, yes, we had Arnold. But Arnold is nobody ; we 
 are used to him." 
 
 "And Major Carleu is somebody," interposed the only 
 beautiful girl present, looking round from the flowers 
 with a laugh. " Thank you, in papa's name, Ceciha." 
 
 Very beautiful was she : exceedingly fair, with some- 
 what haughty blue eyes, delicate features, and fine golden 
 hair. Blanche Ileriot (as often as not called Blanche 
 Carleu at the Kectory) stood conspicuous amidst the rest 
 of the girls. They were pleasant-looking and lady-like, 
 but that was all. Rather above middle-height, slender, 
 graceful, she stood as a queen beside her companions. 
 Under diiferent auspices, Blanche Heriot might have 
 become vain and worldly ; but, enshrined as she had 
 been for the last few years within the precincts of a 
 humble parsonage, and trained in its doctrines of practical 
 Christianity, Blanche had become thoroughly imbued 
 with the influences around her. Now, in her twentieth 
 year, she was simple and guileless as a child. 
 
 It was so long since she had seen her father — as she 
 was pleased to call Major Carleu— that she had partly 
 forgotten what he was like. He was expected now on a 
 two days' visit, and for him the house was being made 
 to look its best. The other visitor, coming by accident 
 at the same time, was Arnold Kavensworth, the Rector's 
 nephew. 
 
 Major Carlen's promised visit was an event to the 
 quiet Rector and his wife. All they knew of him was that 
 he was stepfather to Blanche, and a man who moved in
 
 Gl THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 the gay circles of the world. The interest of Blanche 
 Heriot's money had paid for her education and dress. 
 The Major would have liked the fingering of it amazingly ; 
 but to covet is one thing, to obtain is another. Blanche's 
 money was safe in the hands of trustees ; but before 
 Mrs. Carlen died she had appointed her husband Blanche's 
 personal guardian, with power to control her residence 
 when she should have attained her eighteenth year. That 
 had been passed some time now, and Major Carlen had 
 just awakened to his responsibilities. 
 
 The first to arrive was Arnold Ravensworth, a dis- 
 tinguished-looking man, with a countenance cold, it must 
 be confessed, but full of intellect. And the next to arrive 
 was not the Major. The day passed on to night. The 
 trains came into the neighbouring station, but they did 
 not bring Major Carlen. Blanche cried herself to sleep. 
 She remembered how kind her papa used to be to her — 
 indulging her and taking her about to see sights — and she 
 had cherished a great affection for him. In fact, the 
 Major had always indulged little Blanche. 
 
 Neither had he come the next morning. After breakfast, 
 Blanche went to the end of the garden and stood looking 
 out across the field. The shady dingle, where as a little 
 child she had sat to pick violets and primroses, was there ; 
 but she was gazing at something else— the path that would 
 bring her father. Arnold Ravensworth came strolling up 
 behind her. 
 
 " You know the old saying, Blanche : a watched-for 
 visitor never comes." 
 
 " Oh dear, why do you depress me, Arnold .' To watch 
 is something. I shall cross the field and look up the 
 road." 
 
 They started off in the sunshine. Blanche had a pretty 
 straw hat on. Bhe took the arm Mr. Ravensworth held
 
 BLANCHE IIERIOT. CS 
 
 out to her. Very soon, a straiif>er turned into the field 
 and came swinging towards them. 
 
 " Blanche, is this the Major ? " 
 
 It was a tall, large-limbed, angular man in an old hluc 
 cloak lined with scarlet. He had iron-gray hair and 
 whiskers, gray, hard eyes, a large twisted nose, and very 
 white teeth. Blanche laughed merrily. 
 
 " That papa ! What an idea you must have of him, 
 Arnold ! Papa was a handsome man with black hair, and 
 had lost two of his front teeth. They were knocked out, 
 fighting with the Caffres." 
 
 The stranger came on, staring intently at the good- 
 looking young man and the l^eautiful girl on his arm. 
 Mr. Ravensworth spoke in low tones. 
 
 " Are you quite sure, Blanche ? Black hair turns gray, 
 remember ; and he has a little travelling portmanteau 
 under that cloak." 
 
 Even as he spoke, something in the stranger's face 
 struck upon Blanche Heriot's memory. She disengaged 
 herself and approached him, too agitated to weigh her 
 words. 
 
 " Oh — 1 beg your pardon — are you not papa ? " 
 
 Major Carlen looked at her closely. " Are you Blanche ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am Blanche. Oh, papa ! " 
 
 The Major tucked his stepdaughter under his own arm ; 
 and Mr. Ravensworth went on to give notice of the 
 arrival. 
 
 " Papa, I never saw anyone so much altered ! " 
 
 "Nor I," interposed the Major. "I was wondering 
 what deuced handsome girl was strolling towards me. 
 You are beautiful, Blanche ; more so than your mother 
 was, and she was handsome." 
 
 Blanche, confused though she felt at the compliment, 
 could not return it. 
 
 F
 
 66 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Who is that young fellow ? " resumed the Major. 
 " Arnold Kavensworth ; Mr. Ravensworth's nephew. 
 He lives in London, and came down yesterday for a short 
 visit." 
 
 " Oh. Does he come often ? " 
 
 " Pretty often. We wish it was ofteuer. AVe like him 
 to be here." 
 
 " He seems presuming." 
 
 " Deai- papa ! Presuming ! He is not at all so. And 
 he is very talented and clever. He took honours at Oxford, 
 and " 
 
 " I see," interrupted Major Carlen, displaying his large 
 and regular teeth — a habit of his when not pleased. He 
 had rapidly taken up an idea, and it angered him. " Is 
 this >the parson, Blanche ? He looks very sanctimonious." 
 
 " Oh, papa ! " she returned, feeling ready to cry at his 
 contemptuous tone. " He is the best man that ever lived. 
 Every one loves and respects him." 
 
 " Hope it's merited, my dear," concluded the Major, as 
 he met the hand of the Reverend John Ravensworth. 
 
 Ere middle-day, the Major had scattered a small bomb- 
 shell through the parsonage by announcing that he had 
 come to take his daughter away. Blanche felt it bitterly. 
 It was her home, and a happy one. To exchange it for the 
 Major's did not look now an inviting prospect. Though 
 she would not acknowledge it to her own heart, she was 
 beo^inninar to regard him with more awe than love. That 
 the resolution must have been suddenly formed she knew, 
 for he had not come down with any intention of re- 
 moving her. 
 
 " Papa, my things can never be ready," was her last 
 forlorn argument, when others had failed. 
 
 " Things ? " said the Major. " Trunks, and clothes, and 
 rattle-traps ? They can be sent after you, Blanche,"
 
 BLANCHE HERIOT. 67 
 
 " I have a bird," cried Blanche, her eyes lilliug. " There 
 it is, in the cage." 
 
 " Leave it as a souvenir to the Rectory. Blanche, don't 
 be a child. I have pictured you as one hitherto, but now 
 that I sec you I find my mistake. You must be thinking 
 of other things, my dear." 
 
 And thus Blanche Heriot was hurried away. All the 
 parsonage escorted her to the station, the girls in tears, 
 and she almost heart-broken. 
 
 Of late years Major Carlen had been almost always in 
 debt and ditiiculty. His property was mortgaged. His 
 only certainty was his half-pay ; but he was lucky at cards, 
 and often luckier at betting. He retained his club and his 
 visiting connection, and dined out three parts of his time. 
 Just now he was up in the world, having scored a prize on 
 some winter racecourse, and he was back in his house 
 in Gloucester Place. It had been let furnished for three 
 years, portions of which time the Major had spent abroad. 
 
 " It will be very dull for me, papa," sighed Blanche, as 
 they were whirling along in an express train. " I dare say 
 you are out all day long, as you used to be." 
 
 "Xot dull at all," said the Major. "You must make 
 Mrs. Guy take you out and about." 
 
 " Mrs. Guy ! " exclaimed Blanche, her blue eyes opening 
 widely. " Is she in London ? " 
 
 " Yes, and a fine old guy she is ; more ridiculously 
 nervous than ever," replied the Major. "She arrived 
 unexpectedly from Jersey one evening last week, and 
 quartered herself upon Gloucester Place ; for an indefinite 
 period, no doubt. She did this once before, if you re- 
 member, in your poor mamma's time." 
 
 " She will be something in the way of company for me," 
 said Blanche, with another sigh. 
 
 " Aye ! She is a stupid goose, bat you'll be safer under
 
 68 THE STOHY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 her wing and mine than you would have been ruralizing 
 in the fields and the parsonage garden with that Arnold 
 Ravensworth. I have eyes, Miss Blanche." 
 
 So had Blanche, especially just then ; and they were 
 wide open and fixed upon the Major. 
 
 " Doing what, papa ? " cried she. 
 
 " I saw his drift : ' Blanche ' this, and * Blanche ' the 
 other, and his arm put out for you at every turn ! No, 
 no ; I do not leave you there to be converted into Mrs. 
 Arnold Ravensworth." 
 
 Blanche clasped her hands and broke into merry 
 laughter. " Oh, papa, what an idea ! — how could you 
 imagine it ? Why, he is going to marry Mary Stopford." 
 
 Major Carlen looked blank. Had he made all this 
 inconvenient haste for nothing ? " Who the deuce is 
 Mary Stopford ? " 
 
 " She lives in Devonshire. A pale, gentle girl with nice 
 eyes : I have seen her picture. Arnold wears it attached 
 to a little chain inside his waistcoat. They are to be 
 married in the autumn when the House is up. The very 
 notion of my marrying Arnold Ravensworth ! " broke off 
 Blanche, with another laugh. A laugh that was quite 
 sufficient to prove the fact that she was heart-whole. 
 
 " The House ! " repeated the Major. " Who is he, 
 
 then ? " 
 
 " He is very well off as to fortune, and is— something. 
 It has to do with the House, not as a Member, though he 
 will be that soon, I believe. I think he is secretary to one 
 of the IMinisters. His father was the elder brother, and 
 the Reverend John Ravensworth the younger. There is a 
 very great difference in their positions. Arnold is well off, 
 and said to be a rising man." 
 
 Every word increased Major Carlen's vexation. Even 
 had his fear been correct, it seemed that the young man
 
 BLANCHE HERIOT. 60 
 
 would not have been an undesirable match for Blanche, 
 and he had saddled himself with her at a most inconvenient 
 moment ! 
 
 " Well, well," thought he ; " she will soon make her 
 mark, unless I am mistaken, and there's as good fish in the 
 sea as ever came out of it." 
 
 Mrs. Guy, widow of the late Admiral Guy, vegetating for 
 years past upon her slight income in Jersey, was Major 
 Carlen's younger sister, and a smaller edition of himself. 
 She had the same generally fair-featured face, Avith the 
 twisted nose and the gray eyes ; but while his eyes were 
 hard and fierce, hers were soft and kindly. She was a well- 
 meaning but indescribably silly woman ; and her nervous 
 fears and fancies had so grown upon her that they were 
 becoming a disease. Lying before the fire on a sofa in her 
 bedroom, she received Blanche with a flood of tears, supple- 
 mented by several moans. The tears were caused by the 
 jsleased surprise ; the moans at her having come home on 
 a Friday, for that must surely betoken ill-luck. Blanche 
 was irreverent enough to laugh. 
 
 Major Carlen still counted a few acquaintances of con- 
 sideration in the social world, and Miss Heriot was intro- 
 duced to them. Mrs. Guy was persuaded to temporarily 
 forget her ailments, and to act as chaperon. The ]\Iajor 
 gave his sister a new dress and bonnet, and a cap or 
 two ; and as she had not yet quite done with vanity 
 (has a woman ever done with it ?), she fell before the 
 bribe. 
 
 He had been right in his opinion that Blanche's beauty 
 would not fail to make its mark. So charming a girl, so 
 lovely of face and graceful of form, so innocent of guile, 
 had not been seen of late. Before the sjjring had greatly 
 advanced, a Captain Cross made proposals for her to
 
 70 THE STORY OF CHAP.LES STRANGE. 
 
 the J\Iajor. He was of excellent family, and offered fair 
 settlements. The Major accepted him, not deeming it at 
 all necessary to consult his daughter. 
 
 Blanche rebelled. " I don't care for him, papa," she 
 objected. 
 
 The Major gave his nose a twist. He did not intend to 
 have any trouble with Blanche, and would not allow her to 
 begin it. 
 
 " Not care ! " he exclaimed in surprise. " What does 
 that matter ? Captain Cross is a fine man, stands six feet 
 one, and you'll care for him in time." 
 
 " But, before I consent to marry him, I ought to know 
 whether I shall like him or not." 
 
 " Blanche, you are a dunce ! You have been smothered 
 up in that parsonage till you know nothing. Do you 
 suppose that in our class of society it is usual to fall 
 in love as the ploughboys and milkmaids do ? People 
 marry first and grow accustomed to each other afterwards. 
 Whatever you do, my dear, don't betray gaucherie of that 
 kind." 
 
 Blanche Heriot doubted. She never supposed but that 
 he whom she called father had her true interest at heart, 
 and must be so acting. Mrs. Guy, too, unconsciously 
 swayed her. A martyr to poverty herself, she believed 
 that in marrying one so well off as Captain Cross, a girl 
 must enter upon the seventh heaven of happiness. Alto- 
 gether, Blanche yielded ; yielded against her inclination 
 and her better judgment. She consented to marry Captain 
 Cross, and preparations were begun. 
 
 Meanwhile, Arnold Ravensworth had been an occasional 
 visitor at Major Carlen's, the Major making no sort of 
 objection now that circumstances were explained : indeed, 
 he encouraged him there, and was especially cordial. Major 
 Carlen liad invariablv one eve on the world and the other
 
 BLANCHE IIERIOT. 71 
 
 on self-interest, and it occnrved to him that a rising man, 
 as Arnold Ravensworth beyond doubt was, might prove 
 useful to him in one way or another. 
 
 One evening, when it was yet only the beginning of 
 April, Mr. Ravensworth called in Gloucester Place and 
 found the Major alone. 
 
 " Are Mrs. Guy and Blanche out H " he asked. 
 
 " They are upstairs with the dressmaker," replied the 
 Major. " We sent to her to-day to spur on with Blanche's 
 things, and she has come to-night for fresh orders." 
 
 " Is the marriage being hurried on, Major ? " 
 
 " Time is creeping on, sir," was the gruilf answer. 
 
 " Are they getting ahead with the settlements ? When 
 I saw yon last week, you were in a way at the delay, and 
 said lawyers had only been invented for one's torment." 
 
 " They got on, after that, and the deeds were ready and 
 waiting for signature. But I dropped them a note yester- 
 day to say they might burn them as so much waste paper," 
 returned the Major. 
 
 " Burn the settlements ! " echoed ]\Ir. Ravensworth. 
 
 The Major's eyes, that could look pleasant on occasion, 
 glinted at his astonishment. " Those settlements, are being 
 replaced by heavier ones," he said. "Blanche does not 
 marry Captain Cross. It's off. A more eligible offer has 
 been made her, and Cross is dismissed." 
 
 Mr. Ravensworth doubted whether he heard aright. 
 Major Carlen resumed. "And she was making herself 
 miserable over it. She cannot endure Cross." 
 
 " What a disappointment for Cross ! AYhat a mortifi- 
 cation ! Will he accept his dismissal ? " 
 
 " He will be obliged to accept it," returned the Major, 
 pulling up his shirt-collar, which was always high enough 
 for two. " He has no other choice left to him. A man 
 does not die of love nowadays ; or rush into an action for
 
 72 THE STORY OP CHAELES STRANGE. 
 
 breach of promise, and become a laugliiug-stock at his club. 
 Blanche marries Lord Level." 
 
 " Lord Level ! " Mr. Ravensworth repeated in a curious 
 accent. 
 
 " You look as though you doubted the information." 
 
 " I do not relish it, for your daughter's sake," replied 
 Mr. Ravensworth. "She never can — can — like Lord 
 Level." 
 
 " What's the matter with Lord Level ? He may be 
 approaching forty, but " 
 
 " Mr. Ravensworth laughed. " Not just yet, Major 
 Carlen.", 
 
 " Well, say he's thirty-four ; thirty-three, if you like. 
 Blanche, at twenty, needs guiding. And if he is not as 
 rich as some peers, he is ten times richer than Cross. He 
 met Blanche out, and came dangling here after her. I did 
 not give a thought to it, for I did not look upon Level as 
 a marrying man : he has been somewhat talked of in another 
 line " 
 
 "Yes," emphatically interrupted Mr. Ravensworth. 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " Well ! " irritably returned the Major : "then there's so 
 much the more credit due to him for settling down. When 
 he found that Cross was really expecting to have Blanche, 
 and that he might lose her altogether, he spoke up, and 
 said he should hke her himself." 
 
 " Does Blanche approve of the exchange ? " 
 
 " She was rather inclined to kick at it," returned the 
 Major, in his respectable phraseology, " and we had a few- 
 tears. But if you ask questions in that sarcastic tone, sir, 
 you don't deserve to be answered. Not that Blanche 
 wanted to keep Cross ; she acknowledged that she was only 
 too thankful to be rid of him ; but, about behaving dis- 
 honourably, as she called it. ' My dear,' said I, ' there's
 
 BLANCHE IIERIOT. 73 
 
 your absurd rusticity coming in again. You don't know 
 the world. Such things are done in high life every day.' 
 She believed me, and was reconciled. You look black as 
 a thunder-cloud, Ravensworth. What right have you to 
 do so, pray ? " 
 
 " None in the world. I beg pardon. I was thinking of 
 Blanche's happiness." 
 
 " You had better think of her good," retorted the Major. 
 " She likes Level. I don't say she is yet in love with him : 
 but she did not like Cross. Level is an attractive man, 
 remember." 
 
 " Has been rather too much so," cynically retorted Mr. 
 Ravensworth. 
 
 " Here she comes; I am going out ; so you may offer 
 your congratulations at leisure." 
 
 Major Carlen weut away, and Blanche entered. She took 
 her seat by the fire, and as Mr. Ravensworth gazed down 
 upon her a feeling of deep regret and pity came over him. 
 Shame ! thought he, to sacrifice her to Level. For in truth 
 that nobleman's name was not in the best odour, and 
 Arnold Ravensworth was a man of strict notions. 
 
 It has been asserted that some natures possess an affinity 
 tlie one for the other ; are irresistibly drawn together in 
 the repose of full and perfect confidence. It is a mysterious 
 affinity, not born of love : and it may be experienced by two 
 men or women who have outlived even the remembrance 
 of the passion. Had Blanche Heriot been offered to Arnold 
 Ravensworth, he would have declined her, for he loved 
 another, and she had as much idea of loving the man in 
 the moon as of loving him. Nevertheless, that never-dying, 
 unfathomable part of them, the spirit, was attracted, like 
 finding like. Between such, there can be little reserve. 
 
 " What unexpected changes take place, Blanche ! " 
 
 "Do not blame me," she replied, with a rising colour,
 
 74 THE STORY OF CHAELES STRANGE. 
 
 her tone sinking to a whisper. " My father says it is right, 
 and I obey him." 
 
 " I hope you like Lord Level ? " 
 
 " Better than I liked some one else," was her answer, as 
 she looked into the fire. "At first the — the change 
 frightened me. It did not seem right, and it was so very 
 sudden. But I am getting over that feeling now. Papa 
 says he is very good." 
 
 " Papa says he is very good ! The old hypocrite of 
 a Major ! " thought Mr. Ravensworth. But it was not his 
 place to tell her that Lord Level had not been very good. 
 
 " Oh, Blanche ! " he exclaimed, " I hope you will be 
 happy ! Is it to be soon ? " 
 
 " Yes, they say so. As soon, I think, as the settlements 
 can be ready. Papa sent to-day to hurry on my wedding 
 things. Lord Level is going abroad immediately, and 
 wishes to take me with him." 
 
 " They say so ! " was his mental repetition. " This poor 
 child, brought up in the innocence of her simple country 
 home, more childish, more tractable and obedient, more 
 inexperienced than are those of less years who have lived 
 in the world, is as a puppet in their hands. But the 
 awakening will come." 
 
 " You are going ? " said Blanche, as he rose. " Will you 
 not stay and take tea ? Mrs. Guy will be down soon." 
 " Not this evening. Hark ! here is the Major back 
 
 again." 
 
 " I do not think it is papa's step," returned Blanche, 
 bending her ear to listen. 
 
 It was not. As she spoke, the door was thrown open by 
 the servant. " Lord Level." 
 
 Lord Level entered, and took the hand which Mr. 
 Pv,avensworth released. Mr. Ravensworth looked full at 
 him as he passed out : tliey were not acquainted. A
 
 BLANCHE HEPyTOT. 75 
 
 handsome man, with a somewhat free expression — a connte- 
 nance that Mr. Ravcnsworth took forthwith a prejudice 
 a.^ainst, perhaps unjustly. " Who's that, Blanche .? " he 
 heard him say as the servant closed the door. 
 
 Lord Level was a fine, powerful man, of good height and 
 figure ; his dark auburn hair was wavy and worn rather 
 long, in accordance with the fashion of the day. His com- 
 plexion w^as fair and fresh, and his features were good. Alto- 
 gether he was what the Major had called him, an attractive 
 man. Blanche Heriot had danced with him and he had 
 danced with her ; the one implies the other, you will say ; 
 and a liking for one another had sprung up. It may not 
 have been love on either side as yet — bat that is uncertain. 
 
 " How lovely ! " exclaimed Blanche, as he held out to her 
 a small bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley, and their sweet 
 perfume caught her senses. 
 
 " I brought them for you," whispered Lord Level ; and 
 he bent his face nearer and took a silent kiss from her lips. 
 It was the first time ; and Blanche blushed consciously. 
 
 " You did not tell me who that was, Blanche." 
 
 *' Arnold Ravensworth," she replied. " You have heard 
 me speak of him. 
 
 " An ill-tempered-looking man ! " 
 . " Do you think so ? Well, yes, perhaps he did look 
 cross to-night. He had been hearing about — about us — 
 from papa ; and I suppose it did not please him." 
 
 Archibald Baron Level drew himself up to his full 
 height ; his face assumed its haughtiest expression. 
 " What business is it of his ?" he asked. "Does he wish 
 to aspire to you himself ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, no ; he is soon to be married. Ho is a man 
 of strict honour, and I fear he thinks that papa — that I — 
 that we have not behaved well to Captain Cross." 
 
 They were standing side by side on the li earth-rug,
 
 7G THE STOEY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 the fire-light playing on them and on Blanche's shrinking 
 face. How miserably uncomfortable the subject of Captain 
 Cross made her she could never tell. 
 
 " See here, Blanche," spoke liord Level, after a pause. 
 " I was given to understand by Major Carlen that when 
 Captain Cross proposed for you, you refused him ; that 
 it was only by dint of pressure and persuasion that you 
 consented to the engagement. Major Carlen told me that 
 as the time went on you became so miserable under it, 
 hating Captain Cross with a greater dislike day by day, 
 that he had resolved before I spoke to save you by breaking 
 it off. Was this the case, or not ? " 
 
 " Yes, it was. It is true that I felt wretchedly miserable 
 in the prospect of marrying Captain Cross. And oh, how 
 I thank papa for having himself resolved to break it off I 
 He did not tell me that." 
 
 " Because I have some honour of my own ; and I would 
 not take you sneakingly from Cross, or any other man. 
 You must come to me above-board in all ways, Blanche, 
 or not at all." 
 
 Blanche felt her heart beating. She turned to glance at 
 him, fearing what he might mean. 
 
 " So that if there is anything behind the scenes which 
 has been kept from me ; that is, if it be not of your own 
 good and free will that you marry me ; if you gave up 
 Captain Cross liking him, because — because — well, though 
 I feel ashamed to suggest such a thing — because my rank 
 may be somewhat higher than his, or for any other reason : 
 why, then matters had better be at an end between us. 
 No harm will have been done, Blanche." 
 
 Blanche's face was drawn and white. " Do you mean 
 that you wish to give me up ? " 
 
 " Wish it ! It would be the greatest pain I could ever 
 know in life. My dear, have you failed to understand me ?
 
 BLANCHE HERIOT. 77 
 
 I want you ; I want you to be my wife ; but not at tlio 
 sacrifice of my honour. If Captain Cross " 
 
 Blanche broke dowTi. " Oh, don't leave me to him ! " 
 she implored, "Of course, I could never, never marry 
 him now ; I would rather die. Indeed, I do not quite 
 know what you mean. It was all just as you have been 
 told by papa ; there was nothing kept behind." 
 
 Lord Level pillowed her head upon his arm. *' Blanche, 
 my dear, it was you who invoked this," he whispered, 
 "by talking of Mr. Ravensworth's reflection on you in 
 his * strict honour.' Be assured I would not leave you to 
 Captain Cross unless compelled to do so, or to any other 
 man." 
 
 Her tears were falling. Lord Level kissed them away. 
 
 " Shall I huy you, my love ? — bind you to me with a 
 golden fetter ? " And, taking a small case from his 
 waistcoat-pocket, he slipped upon her marriage finger a 
 hoop of gold, studded with diamonds. His deep-gray eyes 
 were strained upon her through their dark lashes — eyes 
 which had done mischief in their day — and her hand was 
 lingering in his. 
 
 " There, Blanche ; you see I have bought you ; you 
 are my property now — my very own. And, my dear, the 
 ring must be worn always as the keeper of the marriage- 
 ring when you shall be my wife." 
 
 It was a most exquisite relief to her. Blanche liked 
 him far better than she had liked Captain Cross. And as 
 Lord Ijevel pressed his last kiss upon her lips — for Mrs. 
 Guy was heard approaching — Blanche could never be sure 
 that she did not return it. 
 
 A few more interviews such as these, and the young 
 lady would be in love with him heart and soul. 
 
 And it may as well be mentioned, ere the chapter quite
 
 78 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 closes, that Mr. Charles Strange was out of the way of all 
 this plotting' and planning and love-making. The whole 
 of that spring he was over in Paris, watching a case 
 involving English and French interests of importance, that 
 was on before the French courts, and of which Brightman 
 and Strange were the English solicitors.
 
 ( 70 ) 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TRIED AT THE OLD BAILEY. 
 
 *' Oh, Mrs. Guy, he is coming, after all ! He is indeed ! " 
 
 Blanche Heriot's joyful tones, as she read the contents 
 of a short letter In'ought in by the evening post, aroused 
 old Mrs. Gay, who was dozing over her knitting one 
 Tuesday evening in the May twilight. 
 
 " Eh ? What, my dear ? "Who do you say is coming ? " 
 "Tom. He says he must stretch a point for once. He 
 cannot let any one else give me away." 
 " The Major is to give you away, Blanche," 
 " I know he intended to do so if Tom failed me. But 
 Tom is my brother." 
 
 " Well, well, child ; settle it amongst yourselves. I don't 
 see that it matters one way or the other. There's a^ knock 
 at the door ! Dear me ! It must be Lord Level." 
 
 "Lord Level cannot be back again before to-morrow. 
 He is at Marshdale, you know," dissented Blanche. "I 
 think it may be Tom. I hope it is Tom. He says here he 
 shall be in town as soon as his letter." 
 
 " Mr. Strange," announced a servant, throwing wide the 
 drawing-room door. 
 
 Charles Strange had only that morning returned from 
 Paris, having crossed by the night mail. The legal business 
 on which he and Mr. Brightman were just now so much 
 occupied, involving serious matters for a client who lived in
 
 80 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Pciris, had kept Charles over there nearly all the spring. 
 Blanche ran to his arms. She looked upon him as her 
 brother, quite as much as she looked upon Tom. 
 
 " And so, Blanche, we are to lose you," he said, when he 
 had kissed her. " And within a day or two, I hear." 
 
 He knew very little of Blanche Heriot's approaching 
 marriage, except that the bridegroom was Archibald, Lord 
 Level. And that little he had heard from Mr. Brightman. 
 Blanche did not write to him about it. She had written to 
 tell him she was going to be married to Captain Cross : but 
 when that marriage was summarily broken off by Major 
 Carlen, Blanche felt a little ashamed, and did not send word 
 to Charles. 
 
 "The day after to-morrow, at eleven o'clock in the 
 morning," put in Mrs. Guy, in response to the last re- 
 mark. 
 
 All his attention given to Blanche, Charles Strange really 
 had not observed the old lady. He turned to regard Iter. 
 
 "You cannot have forgotten Mrs. Guy, Charles," said 
 Blanche, noticing his doubtful look. 
 
 " I believe I had for the moment," he answered, in those 
 pleasant, cordial tones that won him a way with every one, 
 as he -went up and shook the old lady heartily by both 
 hands. " I heard you were staying here, Mrs. Guy, but I 
 had forgotten it." 
 
 They sat down — Blanche and Charles near the open 
 window, Mrs. Guy not moving from her low easy-chair on 
 the hearthrug — and began to talk of the wedding. 
 
 "Tom is really coming up to give me away," said 
 Blanche, showing him Captain Heriot's short note. " ]t is 
 very good of him, for he must be very busy ; but Tom was 
 always good. You are aware, Charles, I suppose, that the 
 regiment is embarking for India ? Major Carlen saw the 
 announcement this morning in the Timpa^
 
 TRIED AT THE OLD BAILEY. 81 
 
 At that moment Charles Strange saw, or fancied he saw, 
 a warning look telegraphed to him by Mrs. Guy : and, 
 placing it in conjunction with Blanche's words, he fancied 
 he caught its meaning. 
 
 " Yes, I heard the regiment was ordered out," he answered 
 shortly ; and turned the subject. " Will Lord Level be here 
 to-night, Blanche ? I should like to see him." 
 
 " No," she replied. " He went yesterday to Marshdale 
 House, his place in Surrey, and will not return until 
 to-morrow. I think you will like him, Charles." 
 
 " I hope you do," replied Charles, involuntarily. " That 
 is the chief consideration, Blanche." 
 
 He looked at her meaningly as he spoke, and it brought a 
 blush to her face. What a lovely face it was — fair and 
 pure, its blue eyes haughty as of yore, its golden hair 
 brilliant and abundant ! She wore a simple evening dress 
 of white muslin and a blue sash, an inexpensive necklace of 
 twisted blue beads on her neck, no bracelets at all on her 
 arms. She looked what she really was — an inexperienced 
 school-girl. Lord Level's engagement ring on her finger, 
 with its flashing diamonds, was the only ornament of value 
 she had about her. 
 
 In the momentary silence that ensued, Blanche left her 
 seat and went to the open window. 
 
 " Oh," she exclaimed, an instant later, " I do think this 
 may be Tom ! A cab has stopped here." 
 
 Charles Strange rose. Mrs. Guy lifted her finger, and he 
 bent down to her. Blanche was still at the window. 
 
 " She does not know he has sold out," warningly breathed 
 Mrs. Guy. *' She knows nothing of his wild ways, or the 
 fine market he has brought his eggs to, poor fellow. We 
 have kept it from her." 
 
 Charles nodded ; and the servant opened the door with 
 another announcement. 
 
 G
 
 82 THE STOBY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 "Captain Heriot." Blanche flew across the room and 
 was locked in her brother's arms. 
 
 Poor Tom Heriot had indeed, as Mrs. Gny expressed it, 
 with more force than elegance, bronght his eggs to a fine 
 market. It was some few months now since he sold out of 
 the Army ; and what he was doing and how he contrived to 
 exist and flourish without money, his friends did not know. 
 During the spring he had made his appearance in Paris to 
 prefer an appeal for help to Charles, and Charles had 
 answered it to the extent of his power. 
 
 Just as gay, just as light-hearted, just as dehonnaire 
 as ever was Tom Heriot. To see him and hear him, as 
 he sat this evening with them in Gloucester Place, you 
 might have thought him as free from care as an Eton 
 boy — as flourishing as a duke-royal. Little blame to 
 Blanche that she suspected nothing of the existing state 
 of things. 
 
 When Charles rose to say "Good-night," Tom Heriot 
 said it also, and they went away together. 
 
 " Charley, lad," said the latter, as the street-door closed 
 upon them, " could you put me up at your place for two 
 nisfhts — until after this wedding is over ? " 
 
 " To be sure I can. Leah will manage it." 
 
 " All right. I have sent a portmanteau there." 
 
 " You did not come up from Southampton to-day, Tom ? 
 Blanche thought you did." 
 
 "And I am much obliged to them for allowing her to 
 think it. I would have staked my last five-pound note, if 
 you'll believe me, Charley, that old Carlen had not as much 
 good feeling in him. I am vegetating in London ; have 
 been for some time. Blanche's letter was forwarded to me 
 by a comrade who lets me use his address." 
 
 " And what are you doing in London ? " asked Charles. 
 
 " Hiding my ' diminished head,' old fellow," answered
 
 TRIED AT THE OLD BAILEY. 83 
 
 Tom, with a laugh. No matter how serious the subject, 
 he could uot be serious over it. 
 
 " How much longer do you mean to stand hero ? " con- 
 tinued Charles — for the Captain (people still gave him his 
 title) had not moved from the door. 
 
 " Till an empty cab goes by." 
 
 " "We don't want a cab this fine night, Tom. Let us 
 walk. Look how bright the moon is up there." 
 
 " Ay ; my lady's especially bright to-night. Rather too 
 much so for people who prefer the shade. How you stare, 
 Charley ! Fact is, I feel safer inside a cab just now thaji 
 parading the open streets." 
 
 " Afraid of being taken for debt ? " whispered Charles. 
 
 "Worse than that," said Tom, laconically. 
 
 " Worse than that ! " reiDcated Charles. " Wiiy, what do 
 you mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing," and Tom Heriot laughed again. 
 " Except that I am iii the deuce's own mess, and can't 
 easily get out of it. There's a cab ! Ho, driver I Tii 
 with you, Charley." 
 
 And on the following Thursday, when his sister's 
 marriage with Lord Level took place, who so gay, who so 
 free from care, who so attractive as Tom Heriot ? — when 
 giving her away. Lord Level had never before seen his 
 future brother-in-law (or half brother-in-law, as the correct 
 term would be), and was agreeably taken with him. A 
 random young fellow, no doubt, given to playing the 
 mischief with his own prospects, but a thorough gentle- 
 man, and a very prepossessing one. 
 
 " And this is my other brother — I have always called him 
 so," whispered Blanche to her newly-made husband, as she 
 presented Charles Strange to him on their return from 
 church to Gloucester Place. T^ord Level shook hands
 
 84 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 heartily ; and Charles, who had been prejudiced against . 
 him of whom tales were told, took rather a liking to the 
 tall, fine man of commanding jjresence, handsome face and 
 easy, genial manners. 
 
 After the breakfast, to which very few guests were 
 bidden, and at which Mrs. Guy presided, as well as her 
 nerves permitted, at one end of the table and Major Carlen 
 at the other. Lord and Lady Level departed for Dover on 
 their way to the Continent. 
 
 And in less than a week after the wedding, poor Thomas 
 Heriot, who could not do an unkind action, who never 
 had been any one's enemy in the whole world, and never 
 would be any one's, except his own, was taken into custody 
 on a criminal charge. 
 
 The blow came upon Charles Strange as a clap of 
 thunder. That Tom was in a mess of some kind he knew 
 well ; nay, in half a dozen messes most likely ; but he never 
 glanced at anything so terrible as this. Tom had fenced 
 with his questions during the day or two he stayed in 
 Essex Street, and laughed them off. What the precise 
 charge was, Charles could not learn at the first moment. 
 Some people said felony, some whispered forgery. By dint 
 of much exertion and inquiry, he at last knew that it was 
 connected with " Bills." 
 
 Certain bills had been put into circulation by Thomas 
 Heriot, and there was something wrong about them. At 
 least, about one of them ; since it bore the signature of a 
 man who had never seen the bill. 
 
 " I am as innocent of it as a child unborn," protested 
 Thomas Heriot to Charles, more solemnly in earnest than 
 he had ever been heard to speak. " True, I got the bills 
 discounted : accommodation bills, you understand, and they 
 were to have been provided for ; but that any good name 
 had been forrjed to one of them, I neither knew nor 
 dreamt of."
 
 TRIED AT THE OLD BAILEY. 85 
 
 " Yet yon knew the name was there ? " 
 
 " But I thought it bad been genuinely obtained." 
 
 This Avas at the first interview Charles held with him 
 in prison, " Where did you get the bills ? " Charles con- 
 tinued. 
 
 " They were handed to mc by Anstcy. He is the true 
 culprit in all this, Charles, and is slinking out of it, and 
 will get off scot-free. People warned me against the 
 fellow; said he was making a cat's-paw of me; and by 
 Jove it's true ! I could not see it then, but my eyes are 
 open now. lie only made use of me for his own purposes. 
 He had alT, or nearly all, the money." 
 
 And this was just the truth of the business. The man 
 Anstey, a gentleman once, but living by his wits for many 
 years past, had got hold of light-headed, careless Tom 
 Heriot, cajoled him of his friendship, and used him. 
 Anstey escaped completely " scot free," and Tom suffered. 
 
 Tom was guilty in the eyes of the law ; and the law only 
 takes cognizance of its own hard requirements. After ex- 
 amination, he was committed for trial. Charles Strange was 
 nearly wild with distress ; Mr. Brightman was much con- 
 cerned ; Arthur Lake (who was now called to the Bar) would 
 have moved heaven and earth in the cause. Away went 
 Charles to Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar : and that renowned special 
 pleader and good-hearted man threw his best energies into 
 the cause. 
 
 All in vain. At the trial, which shortly came on at the 
 Old Bailey, Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar exerted his quiet but 
 most telling eloquence uselessly. He might as well have 
 wasted it on the empty air. Though indeed it did effect 
 something, causing the sentence pronounced upon the 
 unfortunate prisoner to be more lenient than it otherwise 
 would have been. Thomas Heriot was sentenced to be 
 transported for seven years,
 
 86 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Transportation beyond the seas was still in force then. 
 And Thomas Heriot, with a cargo of greater or lesser 
 criminals, was shipped on board the transport Ve/ir/eance, to 
 be carried to Botany Bay. 
 
 It seemed to have taken up so small a space of time ! 
 Very little, compared with the greatness of the trouble. 
 June had hardly come in when Tom was first taken ; and 
 the Vengeance sailed the beginning of August. 
 
 If Mrs. Guy had lamented beforehand the market that 
 poor Tom Heriot had " brought his eggs to," what did she 
 think of it now "i 
 
 One evening in October a nondescript sort of vehicle, the 
 German makers of which could alone know the name, 
 arrived at a small village not far from the banks of the 
 Rhine, clattering into the yard of the only inn the place 
 contained. A gentleman and lady descended from it, and 
 a parley ensued with the hostess, more protracted than 
 it might have been, in consequence of the travellers' im- 
 perfect German and her own imperfect French. Could 
 madame accommodate them for the night, was the sub- 
 stance of their demand. 
 
 " Well — yes," was madame's not very assured ansvrer ; 
 " if they could put up with a small bedroom." 
 
 " How small .? " 
 
 She opened the door of it was certainly not a room, 
 
 though it might be slightly larger than a boot-closet ; 
 madame called it a cabinet-de-toilette. It was on the 
 ground-floor, looking into tlie yard, and contained a bed, 
 into which one person might have crept, provided he 
 bargained with himself not to turn ; but two people, never. 
 Three of her beds wx're taken up with a milor and miladi 
 Anglais, and their attendants. 
 
 Mrs. llavensworth— a young wife — turned to her husband,
 
 TRIED AT THE OLD BAILEY. 87 
 
 and spoke in English. " Arnold, what can we du ? AVo 
 cannot go on in the dark, with such roads as these." 
 
 " My love, I see only one thing for it : you must sleep 
 here, and I must sit up." 
 
 Madame interrupted ; it appeared she added a small 
 stock of English to her other acquirements. "Oh, but 
 dat meeseraable for monsieur : he steef in legs for morning." 
 
 " And stiff in arms too," laughed Arnold Ravensworth. 
 " Do try and find us a larger bedroom." 
 
 " Perhaps the miladi Anglaise might give up one of her 
 rooms for dis one," debated the hostess, bustling away to 
 inquire. 
 
 She returned, followed by an unmistakaljle English- 
 woman, fine 1)oth in dress and speech. Was she the miladi ? 
 She talked enough for one : vowing she would never give 
 up her room to promiscuous travellers, who prowled about 
 with no avang courier^ taking their own chance of rooms 
 and beds ; and casting, as she spoke, annihilating glances 
 at the benighted wanderers. 
 
 " Is anything the matter, Timms ? " inquired a gentle 
 voice in the background. 
 
 Mr. Ravensworth turned round quickly, for its tones 
 struck upon his remembrance. There stood Blanche, Lady 
 Level ; and their hands simultaneously met in surprise and 
 pleasure. 
 
 " Oh, this is unexpected ! " she exclaimed. " I never 
 should have thought of seeing you in this remote place. 
 Are you alone ? " 
 
 He drew his wife to his side. " I need not say who she 
 is. Lady Level." 
 
 "Are you married, then ? " 
 
 " Ask Mary." 
 
 It was an unnecessary question, seeing her there with 
 him, and Lady Level felt it to be so, and smiled. Timms
 
 88 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 came forward with an elaborate apology and a string of 
 curtseys, and hoped her room would be found good enough 
 to be honoured by any friends of my lady's. 
 
 Lady Level's delight at seeing them seemed as unre- 
 strained as a child's. Exiles from their native land can 
 alone tell that to meet with home faces in a remote spot is 
 grateful as the long-denied water to the traveller in the 
 Eastern desert. And we are writing of days when to travel 
 abroad was the exception, rather than the rule. " There is 
 only one private sitting-room in the whole house, and that 
 is mine, so you must perforce make it yours as well," cried 
 Lady Level, as she laughingly led the way to it. " And 
 oh ! what a charming break it will be to my loneliness ! 
 Last night I cried till bedtime," 
 
 *' Is not Lord Level with you ? " inquired Mr, Eavens- 
 worth 
 
 " Lord Level is in England, Whilst they are getting 
 Timms' room ready, will you come into mine ? " she added 
 to Mrs, Ravensworth, 
 
 " How long have you been married ? " was Lady Level's 
 first question as they entered it, 
 
 " Only last Tuesday week." 
 
 " Are you happy ? " 
 
 " Oh yes," 
 
 " I knew your husband long before you did," added Lady 
 Level. " Did he ever tell you so ? Did he ever tell you 
 what good friends we were ? Closer friends, I think, than 
 he and his cousin Cecilia. He used to conic to White 
 Littleham Rectory, and we girls there made much of him." 
 
 "Yes, he has often told me," 
 
 Mrs, Ravensworth was arranging her hair at the glass, 
 and Lady Level held the light for her and looked on. The 
 description given of her by Blanche to her father was a 
 very good one. A pale, gentle girl, with nice eyes, dark,
 
 TRIED AT THE OLD BAILEY. 89 
 
 inexpressively soft and attractive. " I shall like yon very 
 much," suddenly exclaimed Lady Level. " I think you arc 
 very pretty — I mean, you have the sort of face I hke to look 
 at." Praise that brought a blush to the cheeks of Mrs. 
 Ravensworth. 
 
 The landlady sent them in the best supper she could 
 command at the hour ; mutton chops, served German 
 fashion, and soup, which Lady Level's man-servant, Sanders, 
 who waited on them, persisted in calling the potash — and 
 very watery potash it was, flavoured with cabbage. When 
 the meal was over, and the cloth removed, they drew round 
 the fire. 
 
 " Do you ever see papa .? " Lady Level inquired of 
 Mr. Ravensworth. 
 
 "Now and then. Xot often. He has let his house 
 again in Gloucester Place, and Mrs. Guy has gone back 
 to the Channel Islands," 
 
 " Oh yes, I know all that," replied Blanche. 
 
 *' The last time I saw Major Carlen he spoke of you— • 
 said that you and Lord Level were making a protracted 
 stay abroad." 
 
 " Protracted ! " Blanche returned bitterly ; " yes, it is 
 protracted. I long to be back in England, with a longing 
 that has now grown into a disease. You have heard of 
 the mal dii pays that sometimes attacks the Swiss when 
 they are away from their native land ; I think that same 
 malady has attacked me." 
 
 " But why ? " asked Mr. Ravensworth, looking at her. 
 
 "I hardly know," she said, with some hesitation. "I 
 bad never been out of England before, and everything was 
 strange to me. We went to Switzerland first, then on to 
 Italy, then back again. The longer we stayed away from 
 England, the greater grew my yearning for it. In Savoy 
 I was ill ; yes, I was indeed ; we were at Chamberj^ ; so
 
 UO THE STOEY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 ill as to require medical advice. It was on the mind, the 
 doctor said. He was a nice old man, and told Lord Level 
 that I was pining for my native country." 
 
 " Then of course you left for home at once "i " 
 
 " We left soon, but we travelled like snails ; halting 
 days at one place and days at another. Oh, I was so sick 
 of it ! And the places were all dull and retired, as this is ; 
 not those usually frequented by the English. At last we 
 arrived here ; to stay also, it appeared. "When I asked 
 why we did not go on, he said he was waiting for letters 
 from home." 
 
 As Lady Level spoke she appeared to be lost in the 
 past — an expression that you may have observed in old 
 people when they are telling you tales of their youth. Her 
 eyes were fixed on vacancy, and it was evident that she 
 saw nothing of the objects arounol her, only the time gone 
 by. She appeared to be anything but hajDpy. 
 
 " Something up between my lord and my lady," thought 
 Mr. Ravensworth. " Had your husband to w^ait long for 
 the expected letters ? " he asked aloud. 
 
 " I do not know : several came for him. One morning 
 he had one that summoned him to England without the 
 loss of a moment, and he said there was not time for me 
 to be ready to accompany him. I prayed to go with him. 
 I said Timms could come afterwards with the luggage. It 
 was of no use." 
 
 " Would he not take yon ? " exclaimed Mrs. Ravensworth, 
 her eyes full of the astonishment her lips would nob 
 express. 
 
 Blanche shook her head. " No. He was quite angry 
 with me ; said I did not understand my j^sition — that his 
 wife could not travel in that unceremonious manner. 1 
 was on the point of telling him that I wished to my heart 
 I had never been his wife. Why did lie marry me, unless
 
 TIUED AT THE OLD BAILEY. 91 
 
 ho could look upon me as a companion and friend ? " 
 abruptly continued Lady Level, perhaps forgetting that 
 she was not alone. *' He treats me as a child." 
 
 What answer could be made to this ? " When do you 
 expect him back again ? " asked Mr. Kavensworth, after 
 a pause. 
 
 " How do I know ? " flashed Lady Level, her tones 
 proving how inexpressibly sore was the subject. " He said 
 he should return for me in a few days, but nearly three 
 weeks have gone by, and I am still here. They have 
 seemed to me like three months. I shall be ill if it goes 
 on much longer." 
 
 " Of com-se you hear from him ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, I hear from him. A few lines at a time, 
 saying he will come for me as soon as he possibly can,, and 
 that I must not be impatient. I wanted to go over alone, 
 and he returned me such an answer, asking what I meant 
 by wishing to travel with servants only at my age. I shall 
 do something desperate if I am left here another week." 
 
 " As you once did at White Littleham when they forbade 
 your going to a concert, thinking you were too ill ! " 
 laughed Mr. Ravensworth. 
 
 " Dressed myself up in my best frock, and surprised 
 them in the room. I had ten pages of Italian translation 
 for that escapade." 
 
 " Do you like Italy ? " he inquired, after a pause. 
 
 " No, I hate it ! " And the animus in Lady Level's 
 answer was so intense that the husband and wife exchanged 
 stolen glances. Something must be out of gear. 
 
 " What parts of Italy did you stay in ? " 
 
 *' Chiefly at Pisa — that is not far from Florence, you 
 know ; and a few days at Florence. Lord Level took a 
 villa at Pisa for a month — and why he did so I could not 
 tell, for it was not the season when the English frequent
 
 02 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 it : no one, so to say, was there. We made the acquaintance 
 of a Mrs, Page Reid, who had the next villa to ours." 
 
 " That was pleasant for you — if you liked her." 
 
 "But I did not like her," returned Lady Level, her 
 delicate cheeks flushing. " That is, I did and I did not. 
 She was a very pleasant woman, always ready to help us 
 in any way ; but she told dreadful tales of people — making 
 one suspect things that otherwise would never have entered 
 the imagination. Lord Level liked her at first, and ended 
 by disliking her." 
 
 " Got up a flirtation with her," thought Mr. Ravensworth. 
 But in that he was mistaken. And so they talked on. 
 
 It appeared that the mail passed through the village at 
 night-time ; and the following morning a letter lay on the 
 breakfast-table for Lady Level. 
 
 " My deak Blanche, — I have met with a slight accident, 
 and must again postpone coming to you for a few days. I 
 dare say it will not detain me very long. Rely upon it I 
 shall be with you as soon as I possibly can be. — Ever 
 affectionately yours, Level." 
 
 " Short and sweet ! " exclaimed Blanche, in her bitter 
 disappointment, as she read the note at the window. 
 *' Arnold, when you and your wife leave to-morrow, what 
 will become of me, alone here ? If " 
 
 Suddenly, as Lady Level spoke the last word, she started, 
 and began to creep away from the window, as though 
 fearing to be seen. 
 
 "Arnold! Arnold! who do you think is out there?" 
 she exclaimed in a timid whisper. 
 
 " Why, who ? " in astonishment. " Not Lord Level ? " 
 
 " It is Captain Cross," she said with a shiver. '* I would 
 rather meet the whole world than him. My behaviour to
 
 I'RIED AT THE OLD BAILEY. 93 
 
 liiin Was — was nob right ; and I have felt ashamed of 
 myself ever since." 
 
 Mr. Raveusworth looked out from the window. Captain 
 Cross, seated on the bench in the inn yard, was solacing 
 himself with a cigar. 
 
 " I would not meet him for the world ! I would not let 
 him see me : he might make a scene. I shall stay in my 
 rooms all day. Why does my husband leave me to such 
 chances as these ? " 
 
 That Captain Cross had not been well used was certain ; 
 but the fault lay with Major Carlen, not with Blanche. 
 Mr. Ravens worth spoke. 
 
 " Take my advice, Lady Level. Do not place yourself 
 in Captain Cross's way, but do not run from him. I 
 believe him to be a gentleman ; and, if so, he will not say 
 or do anything to annoy you. I will take care he does not, 
 as long as I remain here." 
 
 In the course of the morning Captain Cross and Arnold 
 Ravensworth met. " I find Lady Level's here ! " the Captain 
 abruptly exclaimed. *' Are you staying with her ? " 
 
 " I and my wife arrived here only last night, and were 
 surprised to meet Lady Level." 
 
 " Where's he ? " asked Captain Cross. 
 
 " In England." 
 
 "He in England and she here, and only six months 
 married ! Estranged, I suppose. Well, what else could 
 she expect ? People mostly reap what they sow." 
 
 Arnold Ravensworth laughed good-humouredly. He was 
 not going to give a hint of the state of affairs that he sus- 
 pected himself. 
 
 "You are prejudiced, Cross. Miss Heriot was not to 
 blame for what happened. She was a child : and they did 
 with her as they pleased." 
 
 " A child I Old enough to engage herself to one man,
 
 94 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE 
 
 and to many another," retorted Cai:)tain Cross, in a burst 
 of angry feeling. " And Level, of all people ! " — with 
 sarcastic scorn. " "Why does he leave her in G-ermany 
 whilst he stays gallivanting in England ? What do you 
 say ? Met with an accident, and caii''t come for her ? 
 That's Ms tale, I suppose. You may repeat it to the 
 Marines ; it won't do for me. / know Level ; knew him 
 of old." 
 
 Lady Level was as good as her word : she did not stir 
 out of her rooms all day. Oa the following morning when 
 Mr. Eavensworth came out of his chamber, he saw, from 
 the corridor window, a travelling-carriage in the yard, 
 packed. By the coat-of-arms he knew it for Lord Level's. 
 Tirams moved towards him in a flutter of delight. 
 
 " Oh, if you please, sir, breakfast is on the table, and 
 my lady is waiting there, ready dressed. "We are going 
 to England, sir." 
 
 " Has Lord Level come ? " 
 
 "No, sir ; we are going with you. My lady gave ordere, 
 last night, to pack up for home. It is the happiest day 
 I've known, sir, since I set foot in these barbarious 
 countries." 
 
 Lady Level met him at the door of the breakfast-room ; 
 "ready dressed," as Timras expressed it, for travelling, 
 even to her bonnet. 
 
 " Do you really mean to go with us ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes," was her decisive reply. " That is, you must go 
 with me. 8tay here longer, I will not. I tell you, Arnold, 
 I am sick to death of it. If Lord Level is ill and unable 
 to come for me, I am glad to embrace the opportunity of 
 travelling under your protection : he can't grumble at that. 
 Besides " 
 
 " Besides what ? " asked Mr. Ravensworth, for she 
 suddenly stopped.
 
 TEIED AT THE OLD BAILEY. 95 
 
 " I do not choose to remain at an inn in which Captain 
 Cross has taken np his abode : neither wonld my husband 
 wish me to do so. After you and ]\Irs. Ravensworth left 
 me last night, I sat over the wood fire, thinking tliese things 
 over, and made my mind up. If I have not sufficient 
 money for the journey, and I don't think I have, I must 
 apply to you, Arnold." 
 
 Whether Mr. Ravensworth approved or disapproved of 
 the decision, he had no power to alter it. Or, rather, 
 whether Lord Level would approve of it. After a hasty 
 breakfast, they went down to the carriage, which had 
 already its array of five horses harnessed to it ; Sanders 
 and Timms perched side-by-side in their lofty seat. The 
 two ladies were helped in by Mr. Ravensworth. Captain 
 Cross leaned against the outer wall of the salle-a-mnnger, 
 watching the departure. He approached Mr. Ravensworth. 
 
 "Am I driving her ladyship off ? " 
 
 " Lady Level is going to England with us, to join lier 
 husband. I told you he had met with an accident." 
 
 " A merry meeting to them ! " was the sarcastic rejoinder. 
 And, as the can'iage drove out of the inn-yard. Captain 
 Cross deliberately lifted his hat to Lady Level ; but lifted 
 it, she thought, in mockery.
 
 96 THE StORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE VINE-COVERED COTTAGE AT PISA. 
 
 That Archibald, Lord Level, had been a gay man, fond of 
 pleasure, fond of talking nonsense to pretty women, the 
 world knew well : and perhaps, world-fashion, admired him 
 none the less for it. But his wife did not know it. "When 
 Blanche Heriot became Blanche Level she was little more 
 than an innocent child, entirely unversed in the world's 
 false ways. She esteemed her husband ; ay, and loved 
 him, in a measure, and she was happy for a time. 
 
 It is true that while they were staying in Switzerland a 
 longing for home came over her. They had halted in 
 Paris for nearly a fortnight on their outward route. Some 
 very nice people whom Lord Level knew were there ; they 
 were delighted with the fair young bride, and she was 
 delighted with them. Blanche was taken about every- 
 where, no one being more anxious for her amusement than 
 Lord Level himself. But one morning, in the very midst 
 of numerous projected expeditions, he suddenly told 
 Blanche that they must continue their journey that day. 
 
 " Oh, Archibald 1 " she had answered in a sort of 
 dismay. "Why, it is this very afternoon that we were 
 going to Fontamebleau 1 " 
 
 "My dear, you shall see Fontainebleau the next time we 
 are in Paris," he said, " I have a reason for wishing to go 
 on at once."
 
 THE VINE-COVERED COTTAGE AT VISA. 97 
 
 Aud they went on. Blanche was far too good and 
 dutiful a wife to oppose her own will to her husband's, or 
 to grumble. They went straight on to Switzerland — 
 travelling in their own carriage — but instead of settling 
 himself in one of those pretty dwellings on the banks of 
 Geneva's lake, as he had talked of to Blanche, Lord Level 
 avoided Geneva altogether, and chose a fearfully dull little 
 village as their place of abode. Very lovely as to scenery, 
 it is true ; but quite unfrequented by travellers. It was 
 there that Blanche first began to long for home. 
 
 Next, they went on to Italy, posting straight to Pisa, and 
 there Lord Level took a pretty villa for a month in the 
 suburbs of the town. Pisa itself was deserted : it was hot 
 weather ; and Blanche did not think it had many attrac- 
 tions. Lord Level, however, seemed to find pleasure in it. 
 He knew Pisa well, having stayed at it in days gone by. 
 He made Blanche familiar with the neighbourhood ; to- 
 gether they admired and wondered at the Leaning Tower, 
 in it3 green plain backed by distant mountains ; but he 
 also went out and about a good deal alone. 
 
 One English dame of fashion was sojourning in the place 
 — a widow, Mrs. Page Reid. She occupied the next villa 
 to theirs, and called upon them ; and she and Lady Level 
 grew tolerably intimate. She was a talkative, gay woman 
 of thirty — and beside her Blanche seemed like a timid 
 schoolgirl. 
 
 One evening, when dinner was over, Lord Level strolled 
 out — as he often did — leaving his wife with Mrs. Page 
 Reid, who had dined with them. The two ladies talked 
 together, and sang a song or two ; and so whiled away the 
 time. 
 
 *' Let us go out for a stroll, too ! " exclaimed Mrs. Page 
 Reid, speaking in momentary impulse, when she found the 
 
 time growing monotonous. 
 
 H
 
 l>8 THE STOIIY OF CEIAllLES STRANGE. 
 
 ])hiuclie readily Hgrecd. It was a most lovely night ; the 
 moon bright aud silvery iu the Italian sky. Putting on 
 some fleecy shawls, the ladies went down the solitary road, 
 and turned by-and-by into a narrow lane that looked like a 
 grove of evergreens. Soon they came to a pretty dwelling- 
 place on the left, half villa, half cottage. Vines grew up 
 its trellised walls, flowers and shrubs crowded around it. 
 
 "A charming little spot ! " cried Mrs. Page Reid, as they 
 halted to peep through the hedge of myrtles that clustered 
 on each side the low entrance-gate. " And two people are 
 sitting there — lovers, I dare say," she added, " telling their 
 vows under the moonbeams." 
 
 In front of the vine-wreathed window, on a bench over- 
 hung by the l^ranches of the traihng shrubs, the laurels aud 
 the myrtles, sat two young people. The girl was tall, 
 slender, graceful ; her dark eyes had a flashing fire even in 
 the moonlight ; her cheeks wore a rose-red flush, 
 
 " How pretty she is ! " whispered Blanche. " Look at 
 her long gold earrings ! And he Oh ! " 
 
 " What's the matter ? " cried Mrs. Page Reid, the tone of 
 the last word startling her. 
 
 " It is my husband." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " began Mrs. Page Reid. But after one 
 doubting, disbelieving look, she saw that it was so. Catch- 
 ing Blanche's hand, she drew her forcibly away, and when 
 they had gained the high-road, burst into a long, low laugh. 
 
 " Don't think about it, dear," she said to Blanche. " It's 
 nothing. The best of husbands like to amuse themselves 
 behind our backs." 
 
 " Perhaps he was — was — inquiring the way — or some- 
 thing," hazarded Blanche, whose breath was coming rather 
 faster than usual. 
 
 Mrs. Page Reid nearly choked. " Oh, to be sure ! " she 
 cried, when she could speak.
 
 THE VINE-COVERED COTTAGE AT PISA. 99 
 
 " You don't think so ? You think it was— something 
 else ? " 
 
 "You are only a little goose, my dear, in the ways of the 
 world," rejoined ]\Irs. Page Reid. " Where's the man that 
 does not like to talk with a ])retty woman ? Lord Level, 
 of all others, does." 
 
 "iTcdoes?" 
 
 " Well, he used to do so. Of course he has mended his 
 manners. And the women, mind you, liked to talk to him. 
 But don't take up the notion, please, that by saying that, I 
 insinuate any unorthodox talking," added Mrs. Page Reid 
 as an after-thought, when she caught a look at Lady Level's 
 tell-tale countenance. 
 
 " I shall ask Lord Level " 
 
 ^'AsJc notldng,^^ impressively spoke the elder lady, cutting 
 short the words. " Say nothing to your husband. Take 
 my advice. Lady Level, for it is good. There is no mortal 
 sin a wife can commit so repugnant in her husband's eyes as 
 that of spying upon his actions. It would make him detest 
 her in the end." 
 
 " But I was not spying. We saw it by accident." 
 
 " All the same. Let it pass from your mind as though 
 it had never been." 
 
 Blanche was dubious. 7/* there was no harm, why should 
 she not speak of it ? — and she could not think there was 
 harm. And if there tvas — why, she would not have breathed 
 it to him for the world. Dismissing the subject, she and 
 Mrs. Page Reid sat down to a quiet game at cards. When 
 Lord Level came in, their visitor said good-night. 
 
 Blanche sat on in silence and torment. Should she 
 speak, or should she not ? Lord Level seemed buried in a 
 reverie. 
 
 " Archibald," she presently began. 
 
 " Yes," he answered, rousing himself.
 
 100 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGEi. 
 
 " I — we — 1 and Mrs. Page Reid went out for a little walk 
 in the moonlight. And " 
 
 «' Well, my dear ? " 
 
 " We saw you," Blanche was wishing to say ; but soma* 
 how her courage failed her. Her breath was short, her 
 throat was beating. 
 
 " And it was very pleasant," she went on. " As warm 
 and light as day." 
 
 " Just so," said Lord Level. " But the night air is 
 treacherous, apt to bring fever. Do not go out again in it, 
 love." 
 
 So her effort to speak had failed. And the silence only 
 caused her to think the more. Blanche Level would have 
 given her best diamond earrings to know who that person 
 was in the gold ones. 
 
 An evening or two further on, when she was quite alone, 
 Lord Level having again strolled out, she threw on the 
 same fleecy shawl and betook herself down the road to the 
 cottage in the grove — the cottage that looked like a pretty 
 ))Ower in the evergreens. And — yes 
 
 Well, it was a strange thing — a startling thing ; startling, 
 anyway, to poor Blanche Level's heart ; but there, on the 
 self -same bench, side by side, sat Lord Level and the Italian 
 girl. Her face looked more beautiful than before to the 
 young wife's jealous eyes ; the gold earrings glittered and 
 sparkled in the moonlight. He and she were conversing 
 in a low, earnest voice, and Lord Level was smoking a cigar. 
 
 Blanche stood rooted to the spot, shivering a little as 
 she peered through the myrtle hedge, but never moving. 
 Presently the young woman lifted her head, called out " Si," 
 and went indoors, evidently in answer to a summons. 
 
 " Nina," sang out Lord Level. " Nina " — raising his 
 voice higher — " I have left my cigar-case on the table : 
 brin^ it to me when you come out again."
 
 THE VINE-COVERED COTTAGE AT PISA. 101 
 
 He spoke in English. The next minute the giii returned, 
 cigar-case in hand. She took her place by his side, as before, 
 and they fell to talking again. 
 
 Lady Level drew away. She went home with flagging 
 steps and a bitterly rebellious heart. 
 
 Not to her husband would she speak ; her haughty lips 
 were sealed to him — and should be ever, she resolved in iier 
 new pain. But she gave a hint the next day of what she 
 had again seen to Mrs. Page Reid, 
 
 That lady only laughed. To her mind it was altogether 
 a rich joke. Not only the affair itself, but Blanche's ideas 
 upon it. 
 
 "My dear Lady Level," she rejoined, "as I said before, 
 you are very ignorant of the ways of the world. I assure 
 you our husbands like to chatter to others as well as to us, 
 Nothing wrong, of course, you understand ; the mistake is, 
 if we so misconstrue it. Lord Level is a very attractive 
 man, you know, and has had all sorts of escapades." 
 
 " I never knew that he had had them." 
 
 " Well, it is hardly likely he would tell you of them before 
 you were his wife. lie will tell you fast enough some day." 
 
 " Won't you tell me some of them now ? " 
 
 Blanche was-*peaking very equably, as if worldly wisdom 
 had come to her all at once ; and Mrs. Page Reid began to 
 ransack her memory for this, that, or the other that she 
 might have heard of Lord Level. As tales of scandal never 
 lose by carrying, she probably converted mole-hills into 
 mountains ; most assuredly so to Blanche's mind. Anyway, 
 she had better have held her tongue. 
 
 From that time, Avhat with one doubt and another. Lady 
 Level's regard for her lord was changed. Her feeling 
 towards him became most bitter. Resentment ? — indio-- 
 nation ? — neither is an adequate word for it. 
 
 At the week's end they left Pisa, for the month was up,
 
 102 THE STORY OF CHABLES STRANGE. 
 
 and travelled Ijack by easy stages to Savoy. Blanche wanted 
 to go direct to England, but Lord Level objected : he said 
 she had not yet seen enough of Switzerland. It was in 
 Savoy that her illness came on — the mal du pays, as they 
 called it. "When she grew better, they started towards 
 home ; travelling slowly and halting at every available spot. 
 That his wife's manner had changed to him, Lord Level 
 could only perceive, but he had no suspicion of its cause. 
 He put it down to her anger at his keeping her so long- 
 away from England. 
 
 The morning after they arrived at the inn in Germany 
 (of which mention has been made) Lord Level received 
 a letter, which seemed to disturb him. It was forwarded 
 to him by a banker in Paris, to whom at present all his 
 letters were addressed. Telling Blanche that it contained 
 news of some matter of business upon which he must start 
 for London without delay, he departed ; declining to listen 
 to her prayer that she might accompany him, but promising 
 to return for her shortly. It was at that inn that Arnold 
 Ravensworth and his wife found Lady Level : and it was 
 with them she journeyed to England. 
 
 And here we must give a few words to Lord Level him- 
 self. He crossed the Channel by the night mail to Dover, 
 and reached London soon after daybreak. In the course of 
 the day he called at his bankers', Messrs. Coutts and Co., to 
 inquire for letters : orders having now been given by him 
 to Paris to forward them to London. One only awaited 
 him, which had only just then come in. 
 
 As Lord Level read it, he gave utterance to a word of 
 vexation. For it told him that the matter of business upon 
 which he had hurried over was put off for a week : and he 
 found that he might just as well have remained in Germany. 
 
 The first thought that crossed his mind was — should he 
 return to his wife .^ But it was hardly worth while doing
 
 THE VINE-COVERED COTTAGE AT PISA. 103 
 
 so. So he took rooms in Holies Street, at a comforta])Ic 
 house "where he had lodged before, and looked up friends 
 and acquaintances at his club. But he did not let that first 
 day pass without calling on Charles Strange. 
 
 The afternoon was drawing to an end in Essex Street, 
 and Charles was in his own private room, all his faculties 
 given to a deed, when Lord Level was shown in. It was 
 for Charles Strange he asked, not for Mr. Bright man. 
 
 " What an awful business this is ! " began Lord Level, 
 when greetings had passed. 
 
 Charles lifted his hands in dismay. No need to ask to 
 whom the remark applied : or to mention poor Tom Heriot 
 by name. 
 
 " Could nothing be done, Mr. Strange .'* " demanded Lord 
 Level in his coldest and haughtiest tones. " Were there no 
 means that could have been taken to avert exposure ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think there might have been, but for Tom's own 
 careless folly: and that's the most galling part of it," 
 returned Charles. " Had he only made a confidant of me 
 beforehand, we should have had a try for it. If I could 
 not have found the money myself, Mr. Brightman would 
 have done so." 
 
 " You need only have applied to me," said Lord Level. 
 "I should not have cared how nmch I paid — to prevent 
 exposure." 
 
 " But in his carelessness, you see, he never applied to any 
 one ; he allowed the blow to fall upon him, and then it Avas 
 too late " 
 
 " Was he a fool ? " interjected Lord Level. 
 
 " There is this excuse for his not speaking : he did not 
 know that things were so bad, or that the people would pro- 
 ceed to extremities." 
 
 Lord Level drew in his haughty lips. " Did he tell you 
 that pretty fable ? "
 
 104 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 "Believe this much, Lord Level : what Tom said, he 
 fhought. Any one more rcprehensibly light and heedless I 
 do not know, and he is incapable of falsehood. And hi 
 saying that he did not expect so grave a charge, or believe 
 there were any grounds on which it could be made, I am 
 sure he spoke only the truth. He was drawn in by one 
 Anstey, and " 
 
 "I read the reports of the trial," interrupted Lord 
 Level. " Do not be at the pain of going over the details 
 
 again." 
 
 " Well, the true culprit was Anstey ; there's no doubt 
 about that. But, like most cunning rogues,. he was able to 
 escape consequences himself and throw them upon Tom- I 
 am sure, Lord Level, that Tom Heriot no more knew the 
 bill was forged than I knew it. He knew well enough 
 there was something shady about it ; about that and others 
 which had been previously in circulation, and had been met 
 when they came to maturity. This one bill was different. 
 Of course there's all the difference between shady bills of 
 accommodation, and a bill that has a responsible man's 
 name to it, which he never signed himself," 
 
 " But what on earth possessed Heriot to allow himself to 
 be drawn into such toils ? " 
 
 " Ah, there it is. His carelessness. He has been rcpre- 
 hensibly careless all his life. And now he has paid for it. 
 All's over." 
 
 " He is already on his passage out in the convict ship 
 Vengeance, is he not ? " said Lord Level, with suppressed 
 
 rage. 
 
 " Yes : ever smce early in August," shuddered Charles. 
 ' Plow does Blanche bear it ? " 
 " Blanche does not know it." 
 " Not know it ! " 
 " No, As yet I have managed to keep it from her, I
 
 THE VINE-COVERED COTTAGE AT PISA, 105 
 
 dread it reaching her. It is a fearful disgrace. She is 
 fond of him, and would feel it keenly." 
 
 "But I cannot understand how it can have been kept 
 from her." 
 
 "Well, it has been. Why, she does not even know that 
 he sold out ! She thinks he embarked with the regiment 
 for India last May ! We had been in Paris about ten days 
 — after our marriage, you know — when one morning, 
 happening to take up the 'Times, I saw in it the account of 
 bis apprehension and first examination. They had his 
 name in as large as life — Thomas Heriot. ' Some gross 
 calumny,' I thought ; ' Blanche must not hear of this : ' and 
 I gave orders for continuing our journey that same day. 
 However, I soon found that it was not a calumny : other 
 examinations took place, and he was committed for trial. 
 I kept my wife away from all places likely to be frequented 
 by the English, lest a word should be dropped to her : and 
 as yet, as I tell you, she knows nothing of it. She is very 
 angry with me in her heart, I can see, for taking her to 
 secluded places, and for keeping her away from England so 
 long, but this has been my sole motive. I want the 
 thought of it to die out of people's minds before I bring 
 her home," 
 
 " She is not with you, then ? " 
 
 " She is in Germany. I had to hasten over here upon a 
 matter of business, and shall return for her when it is 
 finished. I have taken my old rooms in Holies Street for a 
 week. You must look me up there." 
 
 " I will," said Charles, 
 
 Mr. Brightman came in, and the trouble was gone over 
 again, liord liCvel felt it keenly ; there could be no doubt 
 of that. He inquired of the oldci and more experienced 
 lawyer whether there was any chance ot bringing Anstey to 
 ft reckoning, so that he might be punished ; and as to any
 
 106 THE BTOEY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 expense, great or small, that might be incurred in the 
 process, he would give carte blanche for that with greater 
 delight than he had given money for anything in his whole 
 life. 
 
 Charles could not help liking him. With all his pride 
 and his imputed faults, few people could help liking Lord 
 Level. 
 
 Meanwhile, as may have been gathered in the last chapter, 
 Lord Level Avas detained in England longer than he had 
 anticipated. Lady Level grew impatient and more im- 
 patient at the delay : and then, taking the reins into her 
 own hands, she crossed the Channel with Mr. and Mrs. 
 Arnold Ravensworth.
 
 ( 107 ) 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 COMPLICATIONS. 
 
 CiiossiNC4 by tlio uight boat from Calais, the travellers 
 reached Dover at a very early hour of the morning. Lady 
 Level, with her servants, proceeded at once to London ; 
 but Mrs. Ptavensworth, who had been exceedingly ill on the 
 passage, required some repose, and she and her husband 
 Avaited for a later train. 
 
 " Make use of our house, Lady Level," said Mr. Ravens- 
 worth— speaking of his new abode in Portland Place. 
 " The servants are expecting me and their mistress, and will 
 have all things in readiness, and make you comfortable." 
 
 " Thank you all the same, Arnold," said Lady Level ; 
 " but I shall drive straight to my husband's rooms in Holies 
 Street." 
 
 " I would nut — if I were you," he dissented. " You are 
 not expected, and may not find anything ready in lodgings, 
 so early in the morning. Drive first to my house and have 
 some breakfast. You can go on to Holies Street afterwards." 
 
 Sensible advice. And Lady Level took it 
 
 In the evening of that same day, Arnold Ravens worth 
 and his wife reached Portland Place from the London 
 terminus. To Mr. Ravensworth's surprise, who should be 
 swinging from the door as the cab stopped but Major Carleu 
 in his favourite purple and scarlet cloak, his gray hair 
 disordered and his eyes exceeding fierce.
 
 108 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Here's a pretty kettle -of -fish ! " cried he, scarcely gi\'iug 
 Arnold time to hand out his wife, and following him into 
 the hall. " You have done a nice thiut^ ! " 
 
 "What is amiss?" asked Mr. Ravensworth, as he took 
 the Major into a sitting-room. 
 
 " Amiss ! " returned the excited Major. " I would advise 
 you not to fall into Level's way just now. How the mischief 
 came you to bring Blanche over ? " 
 
 "We accompanied Lady Level to England at her own 
 request : I took no part in influencing her decision. Lady 
 Level is her own mistress." 
 
 " Is she, though ! She'll find she's not, if she begins to 
 act in opposition to her husband. Before she was married 
 she had not a wish of her own, let alone a will— and there's 
 where Level Avas caught, I fancy," added the Major, in a 
 parenthesis, nodding his head knowingly. " He thought 
 he had picked up a docile child, who would never be in 
 his way. What with that and her beauty — anyway, he could 
 not think she would be setting up a will, and an obstinate 
 one, as she's doing now, rely upon that." 
 
 Major Carlen was striding from one end of the room to 
 the other, his cloak catching in the furniture as he swaved 
 about. Arnold thought he had been drinking : but he 
 was a man who could take a great deal, and show it very 
 little. 
 
 " The case is this," said he, unfasteniug the troublesome 
 cloak, and flinging it on to a chair. " Level has been in 
 England a week or two ; amusing himself, I take it. He 
 didn't want his wife, I suppose ; Avell and good : men like 
 a little society, and as long as they keep their wives in the 
 dark, there's no reason why they shouldn't have it " 
 
 " Major Carlen ! " burst foith Mr. Ravensworth. " Lord 
 Level's wife is your daughter. Have you forgotten it ? " 
 
 "My stepdaughter, What if she is .^ Does that render
 
 COMPLICATION^. 109 
 
 her different from others ? Are you going to climb a pole 
 and crj Morality ? You are a young married man, Arnold 
 Ravenswortb, and must be on your good behaviour just 
 now ; it's etiquette." 
 
 Mr. Ravenswortb was not easily excited, but the red 
 flush of anger darkened his cheek. He could have thrust 
 the old rascal from the house. 
 
 " Level leaves his wife in France, and tells her to remain 
 there. Germany ? "Well, say Germany, then. My lady 
 chooses to disobey, and comes to England, under your wing ; 
 and I wish old Harry had driven you to any place rather 
 than the one she was stopping at. She reaches town to-day 
 and drives to Lord Level's rooms in Holies Street, whence 
 he had dated his letters to her — and a model of incaution he 
 was for doing it ; why couldn't he have dated from his 
 club ? My lady finds or hears of something there she does 
 not like. Well, what could she expect ? They were his 
 rooms ; taken for himself, not for her ; and if she had not 
 been a greater simpleton than ever broke loose from keeping, 
 she would have come away, then and there. Not she. She 
 must persist in putting questions as to this and that ; so at 
 last she learned the truth, I suppose, or something near it. 
 Then she thought it time to leave the house and come to 
 mine ; which is what she ought to have done at first ; and 
 there she has been waiting until now to see me, for I have 
 been out all day." 
 
 " I thought your house was let ? " 
 
 " It was let for the season ; the people have left it now. 
 I came home only yesterday from Jersey. My sister is lying 
 ill there." 
 
 " And may I ask. Major Carlen, how you know that Lord 
 Level has been ' amusing himself ' if you have not been here 
 to see ? " questioned Mr. Ravenswortb, sarcastically. 
 
 " How do I know it ?— why, common sense tells me,"
 
 110 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 stormed the Major. " 1 have not heard a word about Level, 
 except what Blanche says." 
 
 " Is he in Holies Street ? " 
 
 " Not now. He gave up his rooms a week ago, and went 
 down to Marshdale, liis place in Surrey. He is laid up 
 there, having managed to jam his knee against a gate-post ; 
 his horse swerved in going through it. A man I met to-day, 
 a friend of Level's, told me so. To go back to Blanche. 
 She opened out an indignant tale to me, when I got home 
 just now and found her there, of what she had heard in 
 Holies Street. ' Serve you right, my dear,' I said to her : ' a 
 wife has no business to be looking at her husband through a 
 telescope. If a man chose to fill his rooms with wild tigers, 
 it would not be his wife's province to complain, provided he 
 kept her out of reach of their claws.' ' But what am I to 
 do ? ' cried Blanche. ' You must return to France, or wher- 
 ever else you came from,' I answered. ' That I never will : 
 I shall go down to ]\Iarshdale, to Lord Level,' asserted 
 Blanche, looking as I had never seen her look before. ' You 
 can't go there,' I said : * you must not attempt it.' * I tell 
 you, papa, I will go,' she cried, her eyes flashing. I never 
 knew she had so much passion in her, Ravensworth : Level 
 must have changed her nature. ' I will have an explanation 
 from Lord Level,' she continued. ' Rather than live on as 
 I am living now, I will demand a separation.' — Now, did 
 you put that into her head .'' " broke off the Major, looking 
 at Mr. Ravensworth. 
 
 " I do not think you know what you are saying, Major 
 Carlen. Should I be likely to advise Lady Level to 
 separate from her husband ? " 
 
 "Some one has ; such an idea would never enter Blanche's 
 head unless put there. ' You must lend me the means to 
 go down,' she went on. 'I am quite without money, 
 through paying ihe bill at the hotel : Mr. Ravensworth
 
 COMPLICATIONS. Ill 
 
 had partly to supply my travelling expenses.' * Then more 
 fool Ravenswortli for doing it,' said I ; and more fool you 
 were," repeated the Major. 
 
 " Anything more, Major ? " 
 
 " The idea of my lending her money to take her down to 
 ^iFarshdale ! And she'd be cunning to get money from me, 
 just now, for I am out at all pockets. The last supplies 
 I had came from Level ; I wrote to him when he was 
 abroad. By Jove ! I would not cross him now for the 
 universe." 
 
 " The selfish old sinner I " thought Mr. Ravensworth— 
 and nearly said so aloud. 
 
 " Let me finish ; she'll be here in a minute ; she said 
 she should come and apply to you. ' Does your husband 
 beat you or ill-treat you ? ' I asked her. ' ISTo,' said she, 
 shaking her head in a proud fury ; ' even I would not 
 submit to that. Will you lend me some money, papa ? " 
 she asked again. ' No, I won't,' I said. ' Then I'll borrow 
 it from Mr. Ravensworth,' she cried, and ran upstairs to 
 put her bonnet on. So then I thought it was time to come 
 too, and explain. Mind you don't supply her with any, 
 Ravensworth." 
 
 " "What pretext can I have for refusing ? " 
 
 " Pretext be shot ! " irritably returned the Major. " Tell 
 her you won't, as I do. I forbid you to lend her any. 
 There she is ! "What a passionate knock ! Been blundering 
 up wrong turnings, I dare say." 
 
 Lady Level came in, looking tired, heated, frightened. 
 Mr. Ravensworth took her hand. 
 
 " You have been walking here ! " he said. " It is not 
 right that Lady Level should be abroad in London streets 
 at night, and alone." 
 
 " What else am I to do without money ? " she returned 
 hysterically. " I sent the servants and the luggage to an
 
 112 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 hotel this morning, and gave them the few shillings I had 
 left." 
 
 "Do sit down and calm yourself. All this is truly 
 distressing." 
 
 Calm herself ! The emotion, so long pent up, broke 
 forth into sobs. "Yes, it is distressing. I come to 
 England and I find no home ; I am driven about from 
 pillar to post, insulted everywhere ; I have to walk through 
 the streets, like any poor, helpless girl. Is it right that it 
 should be so ? " 
 
 " You have brought it all upon yourself, my lady," cried 
 Major Carlen, coming forward from a dark corner. 
 
 She turned with a start. " So you are here, papa ! Then 
 I hope you have entered into suificient explanation to spare 
 it to me." 
 
 " I have told Eavensworth of your fine exploit, in going 
 to Lord Level's rooms : and he agrees with me that no one 
 except an inexperienced child would have done it." 
 
 " The truth, if you please, Major Carlen," struck in 
 Mr. Eavensworth. 
 
 " And that what vou heard or met with — though as to 
 what it was I'm sure I'm all in a fog about — served you 
 right for going," continued the unabashed Major. 
 
 Lady Level threw back her head, the haughty crimson 
 dyeing her cheeks. " I went there expecting to find my 
 husband ; was that an inexperienced or a childish action ? " 
 
 "Yes, it was," roared the Major, completely losing his 
 temper, and showing his fierce teeth. "When men are 
 away from their wives, tliey fall back into bachelor habits. 
 If they please to turn their sanctums into smoking dens, 
 or boxing dens, or what not, are you to come hunting them 
 up, as I say, with a spyglass that magnifies at both ends ? " 
 
 " Good men have no need to keep their wives away from 
 them."
 
 COMPLICATIONS. 113 
 
 The Major gave his nose a twist. " Good men ? — bad 
 men ? — Where's the difference ? The good have their wives 
 under their thnmb, and the bad haven't, that's alL" 
 
 " For shame, papa ! " 
 
 "Tie Lord Level to your apron-string, and keep him 
 there as long as you can," fired the Major ; " but don't 
 ferret him up when he is out for a holiday," 
 
 " Did I want to ferret up Lord Level ? " she retorted. 
 *' I went there because I thought it was his temporary 
 home and would be mine. Why did he date his letters 
 thence ? " 
 
 " There it all lies," cried the Major, changing his lone 
 to one of wrath against Level. " Better he had dated from 
 the top of the Monument. It is surprising what mistakes 
 men make sometimes. But how was he to think you would 
 come over against his expressed will ? You say he had 
 bade you stop there until he could fetch you." 
 
 Lady Level would not reply : the respect due to ]\Iajor 
 Carlen as her stepfather was not in the ascendant just then. 
 Turning to ]\Ir. Ravensworth, she requested the loan of 
 sufficient funds to take her down to Marshdale. 
 
 *' I tell you, Blanche, you must not go there," interrupted 
 the Major. " Better not. Lord Level does not receive 
 strangers at ]\Iarshdale." 
 
 " Strangers ! " emphatically repeated Lady Level. 
 
 " Or wives either. They are the same as strangers in a 
 case such as this. I assure you Level told me, long before 
 he married you, that IMarshdale was a little secluded place, 
 no establishment kept up in it except an old servant or 
 two ; that he never received company down there, and 
 should never take you to it. Remain at the hotel with 
 your servants, if you will not come to my house, Blanche — 
 there's only a charwoman in it at present, as you know. 
 Then write to Level and let him know that you are there." 
 
 I
 
 114 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Lady Level had better stay here to-night, at all 
 events," put in Arnold Ravensworth. " My wife is expect- 
 ing her to do so." 
 
 " Ay," acquiesced the old Major : *' and Avrite to Marsh- 
 dale to-morrow, Blanche." 
 
 " I go down to Marshdale to-morrow," she replied in 
 tones of determination. " It is too late to go to-night. 
 The old servants that wait upon Lord Level can wait upon 
 me : and if there are none, I will wait upon him myself. 
 Go there I will, and have an understanding. And unless 
 Lord Level can explain away the aspect that things have 
 taken, I— I— I " 
 
 " Of all the imbeciles that ever gave utterance to folly, 
 you are the worst," was the Major's complimentary retort, 
 when she broke down. "Madam, do you know that you 
 arc a peeress of the realm ? " he added pompously. 
 
 " I do not forget it." 
 
 " And you would stand in your own light ! You have 
 carriages and finery ; you are to be presented next season ; 
 you will then have a house in town : what docs the earth 
 contain more that you ran want ? " 
 
 " Happiness," said Lady Level. 
 
 " Happiness ! " repeated the Major, in genuine astonish- 
 ment. " A pity but you had married a country curate and 
 found it, then. Arnold Ravensworth, you must not lend 
 Lady Level the money she desires ; you shall not speed her 
 on this insane journey." 
 
 Mr. Ravensworth approached him, and spoke in low 
 tones. " Do you know of any existing reason that may 
 render it inexpedient for her to go there ? " 
 
 " I know nothing about it," replied the Major, too angry 
 to lower his voice ; " absolutely nothing. The Queen and 
 all the princesses might pay it a visit, for aught I know of 
 any reason to the contrary. But it is not Lady Level's
 
 COMPLICATIONS. 115 
 
 phice to follow her husband about in this clandestine manner. 
 If he wants her there, he will send for her, once he knows 
 that she is in Loudon. The place is not much more than 
 a farm, I believe, and used to be a hunting-box in the late 
 Lord Level's time," 
 
 " Papa, I hope you will forgive me for running counter 
 to your advice — but I shall certainly go down into Hurrey 
 to-morrow," 
 
 "I wash my hands of it altogether," said the angry 
 Major. 
 
 " And you must lend me the money, Arnold." 
 
 " I will not refuse you," was the answer : " and I cannot 
 dictate to you ; but I think it would be better for you to 
 remain here, and let Lord Level know that you are 
 coming," 
 
 Lady Level shook her head. " Good advice, Arnold, no 
 doubt, and I thank you ; all the same, I shall go down as I 
 said," 
 
 " You will be very much to blame, sir, if you help on this 
 mad scheme by so much as a sixpence," spoke the Major. 
 
 " Papa, listen to a word of common sense," she interposed. 
 " I could go to a dozen places to-morrow, and get any 
 amount of money. I could go to Lord Level's agents, and 
 say I am Lady Level, and they would supply me. I could 
 go to Mr. Brightman, and he would supply me — Charles 
 Strange is in Paris again. I could go to other pkces. 
 But I prefer to have it from Mr. Bavensworth, and save 
 myself trouble and annoyance. It is not a pleasant thing 
 for a peeress of the realm — as you just now put it — to go 
 about borrowing a five-pound note," she concluded with 
 a faint smile. 
 
 "Very well, Blanche. If ill comes of this wild step of 
 yours, remember you were warned against it. I can say no 
 more."
 
 116 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANCxE. 
 
 Gathering up his cloak as he spoke, Major Carleii threw 
 it over his shoulder.^, and went forth, muttering, into the 
 night. 
 
 Mr, Ravensworth called his wife, and she took Lady 
 Level upstairs to a hastily-prepared chamber. Sitting 
 down in a low chair, and throwing off her Iwnnet, Lady 
 Level, worn out with all the excitement she had gone 
 through, burst into a flood of hysterical tears. 
 
 " Tell me all about it," said Mary Ravensworth sooth- 
 ingly, drawing the poor wearied head to rest on her 
 shoulder. 
 
 " They meant to stop me from going down to my 
 husband, and 1 will go," sobbed Blanche, half defiantly. 
 " If he has met with accident, and is ill, I ought to be 
 there." 
 
 " Of course you ought," said Mary, warmly. " But 
 what is all the trouble about ? And what was it that you 
 heard, and did not like, in Holies Street ? " 
 
 " Oh, never mind that," said Blanche, colouring furiously. 
 " That is what I am going to ask my husband to explain." 
 
 Upon Lady Level's arrival in London that morning, 
 she sent her servants and luggage to an hotel, and drove 
 straight to Portland Place herself : where Mr. and Mrs. 
 Ravensworth's servants supplied her Avifch breakfast. After- 
 wards she went to Holies Street, arriving there about ten 
 o'clock ; walked into the passage, for the house door was 
 open, Avas met by a young person in green, and inquired 
 for Lord Level. 
 
 " Lord Level's not here now, ma'am," was the answer, as 
 she showed Blanche into a parlour. " He has been gone 
 about a week." 
 
 "Gone about a week!" repeated Blanche, completely 
 taken back ; for she had pictured him as lying at the place 
 disabled.
 
 COMPLICATIONS. 117 
 
 "About that time, ma'am. He and the lady left 
 togetlier." 
 
 Blanche stared, and collected her scattered senses. 
 " What lady ? " she asked. 
 
 The young person in green considered. " Well, ma'am, 
 I forget the name just now ; those foreign names are hard 
 to remember. His lordship called her Nina. A very 
 handsome lady, she was — Italian, I think — with gold 
 earrings." 
 
 Lady Level's heart began to beat loudly. " j\Iay I ask 
 if you are Mrs. Pratt ? " she inquired, knowing that to be 
 the name of the landlady. 
 
 " Dear me, no, ma'am ; Mrs. Pratt's my aunt ; I'm up 
 here on a visit to her from the country. She is gone out 
 to do her marketings. Lord Level was going down to his 
 seat in Surrey, we understood, when he left here." 
 
 " Was the Italian lady going with him ? " 
 
 The country girl — who was no doubt an inexperienced, 
 simple country maiden, or she might not have talked so 
 freely — shook her head. " We don't know anything about 
 that, ma'am : she might have been. She was related to my 
 lord — his sister-in-law, I think he called her to Mrs. Pratt 
 — or some relation of that sort." 
 
 Blanche walked to the window and stood still for a 
 moment, looking into the street, getting up her breath. 
 " Did the lady stay with Lord Level all the time he was 
 here ? " she questioned, presently. 
 
 " Oh no, ma'am ; she came only the day before he went 
 away. Or, stay — the day but one before, I think it was. 
 Yes ; for I know they were out together nearly all the 
 intervening day. ]\Irs. Pratt thought at his lordship's 
 solicitor's. It was about six o'clock in the evening when she 
 first arrived. IMy lord had spoken to Mrs. Pratt that day 
 in his drawing-room, saying he was expecting a relative
 
 118 THE STORY OF CHAKLES STRANGE. 
 
 from Italy for a day or two, and could we let her have 
 a bedroom, and any other accommodation she might need ; 
 and Mrs. Pratt said she would, for we were not full. A 
 very nice lady she seemed to be, ma'am, and spoke English 
 in a very pretty manner." 
 
 Lady Level drew in her contemptuous lips. " Did Lord 
 Level meet with any accident while he was here ? " 
 
 " Accident, ma'am ! Not that we heard of. He was 
 quite well when he left." 
 
 " Thank you," said Blanche, turning away and drawing 
 her mantle up with a shiver. " As Lord Level is not here, 
 I will not intrude upon you further." 
 
 Wishing the young person in green good-morning, she 
 went away to Gloucester Place, feeling that she must 
 scream or cry or fight the air. Blanche knew Major Carlen 
 was about due in London, as his house was vacant again. 
 Yes, the old charwoman said, the Major had got home the 
 previous day, but he had just gone out. Would my lady 
 (for she knew Blanche) like to walk in and wait until he 
 returned ? 
 
 j\Iy lady did so, and had to wait until evening. Then 
 she partly explained to Major Carlen, and partly confused 
 him ; causing that gentleman to take up all kinds of free 
 and easy ideas as to the morals and manners of my Lord 
 Level. 
 
 On the following morning Lady Level, pursuing her own 
 sweet will, took train for Marshdale, leaving her servants 
 behind her.
 
 ( 119 ) 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE HOUSE AT MARSHDALE. 
 
 It was a gloomy day, nob far off the gloomy mouth of 
 November, and it was growing towards mid-day, when 
 a train on a small line, branching from the direct London 
 line, drew up at the somewhat insignificant station of 
 Upper Marshdale. A young and beautiful lady, without 
 attendants, descended from a first-class carriage. 
 
 "Any luggage, ma'am?" inquired a porter, stepping up 
 to her. 
 
 " A small black bag ; nothing else." 
 
 The bag was found in the van, and placed on the plat- 
 form. A family, who also appeared to have arrived at 
 their destination, closed round the van and were tumultuous 
 over a missing trunk, and tlie lady drew back and accosted 
 a stolid-looking lad, dressed in the railway uniform. 
 
 " How far is it to ]\Iarshdale ? " 
 
 " Marshdale ! Why, you be at Marshdale," returned the 
 boy, in sulky tones. 
 
 " I mean Marshdale House." 
 
 " Marshdale House ? — That be my Lord Level's place," 
 said the boy, still more sulkily. " It be a matter of two 
 mile." 
 
 " Are there any carriages to be hired ? " 
 
 " There's one — a fly ; he waits here when the train 
 
 come in."
 
 120 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Where is it to be found ? " 
 
 " It stands in the road, yonder. But if you wants the 
 fly, it's of no use waiting. It have been booked by them 
 folks squabbling over their boxes : they writed here yester- 
 day for it to be ready for 'em." 
 
 The more civil porter now came up, and the lady appealed 
 to him. He confirmed the information that there was only 
 this one conveyance to be had, and the family had secured 
 it. Perhaps, he added, the lady might like to wait until 
 they had done with it. 
 
 The lady shook her head impatiently, and decided to 
 walk. " Can you come with me to carry my bag and to 
 show me the way ? " she asked of the surly boy. 
 
 The surly boy, willing or unwilling, had to acquiesce, and 
 they set off to walk. Upon emerging from the station, he 
 came to a standstill. 
 
 " Now, W'hich way d'you mean to go ? " began he, facing 
 round upon his companion. " There's the road way, and 
 it's plaguy long ; two mile, good ; and there's the field way, 
 and it's a sight nearer." 
 
 " Is it as good as the road ? " 
 
 " It's gooder — barring the bull. He runs at everybody. 
 And he tosses 'em, if he can catch 'em." 
 
 Xot caring to encounter so objectionable an animal, the 
 lady chose the road ; and the boy strode on before her, bag 
 in hand. It was downhill all the way. In due time they 
 reached Marshdale House, which lay in a hollow. It was a 
 low, straggling, irregular structure, built of dark red brick, 
 with wings and gable ends, and must originally have looked 
 more like a comfortable farm-house than a nobleman's seat. 
 But it had been added to at various periods, without any 
 regard to outward appearance or internal regularity. It 
 was exceedingly retired, and a very large garden surrounded 
 the house, encompassed by high walls and dense trees.
 
 l^HE HOUSE AT MAESfiDALE. 121 
 
 The walls were separated by a pair of handsome iron gates, 
 and a small doorway stood beside them. A short, straight 
 avenue, overhung by trees, led to the front entrance of the 
 house. The surly boy, turning himself and his bag round, 
 pushed backwards against the small door, sent it flying, and 
 branched off into a side-path. 
 
 " Is not that the front door ? " said the lady, trying to 
 arrest him. 
 
 " 'Tain't no manner of use going to it," replied the imper- 
 turbable boy, marching on. " The old gentleman and lady 
 gets out o' the way, and the maids in the kitchen be deaf, 
 I think. Last time I came up here with a parcel, I rung at 
 it till I was tired, and nobody heard." 
 
 He went up to a side-door, flung it open, and put down 
 the bag. A neat-looking young woman, with her sleeves 
 turned up, came forward, and stared in silence. 
 
 " Is Lord Level within ? " inquired the lady. 
 
 " My lord's ill in bed," replied the servant ; " he cannot 
 be seen or spoken to. What do you want with him, please ?" 
 
 She seemed a good-tempered, ignorant sort of girl, but 
 nothing more. At that moment some one called to her from 
 an inner room, and she turned away. 
 
 " Are there not any upper servants in the house, do you 
 know ? " inquired the lady of the boy. 
 
 " I doesn't think so. There's the missis." 
 
 A tinge came over the lady's face. " The mistress ! 
 AVho is she ? " 
 
 " She's Mrs. Ed'ards. An old lady, what comes to church 
 with buckles in her shoes. And there's ^Mr. " 
 
 " What is it that you want here ? " interrupted the 
 servant girl, advancing again, and addressing the visitor in 
 a not very conciliatory tone. 
 
 " I am Lady Level," was the reply, in a ringing, imperious 
 voice. " Call some one to receive me."
 
 122 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 It found its way to the girl's alarm. She looked scared, 
 doubtiug, and finally turned and flew off down a long, dark 
 passage. The boy heard the announcement without its 
 ruffling his equanimity in the least degree. 
 
 " That's ail, ain't it ? " asked he, giving the bag a con- 
 descending touch with his foot. 
 
 " How much am I to pay you ? " inquired Lady Level. 
 
 The boy paused. " You baiu't obliged to pay nothing." 
 
 " What is the charge ? " repeated Lady Level. 
 
 " The charge ain't nothing. If follcs like to give any- 
 thing, it's gived as a gift." 
 
 She smiled, and, taking out her purse, gave him half-a- 
 crown. He received it with remarkable satisfaction, and 
 then, with an air of great mystery and cunning, slipped it 
 into his boot. 
 
 " But, I say, don't you go and tell, over there, as you 
 gived it me," said he, jerking his head in the direction of 
 the railway station. "We are not ilet take nothing, and 
 there'd be the whole lot of 'em about my ears. You won't 
 tell ? " 
 
 " No, I will not tell," replied Lady Level, laughing, in 
 spite of her caras and annoyances. And the promising 
 young porter in embryo, giving vent to a shrill whistle, 
 which might have been heard at the twc-mile-off station, 
 tore away as fast as his legs would carry him. 
 
 The girl came back with a quaint old lady. Her hair was 
 white, her complexion clear and fresh, and her eyes were 
 black and piercing as ever they had been in her youth. 
 She looked in doubt at the visitor, as the servant had 
 done. 
 
 " I am told that some one is inquiring for my lord." 
 
 " His wife is inquiring for him. I am Lady Level." 
 
 Had any doubt been wavering in the old lady's mnid, 
 the tunes dispelled it. She curtseyed to the ground — the
 
 THE 110 UHE AT MARSHDALE. 123 
 
 stately, upright, old-fashioaed curtsey of the days gone by. 
 A look of distress rose to her face. 
 
 " Oh, my lady ! That I should live to receive ray lord's 
 wife in this unprepared, unceremonious manner ! He told 
 me you were in foreign parts, beyond seas." 
 
 " I returned to England yesterday, and have left my 
 servants in town. What is the matter with Lord Level ? " 
 
 "That your ladyship should come to such a house as this, 
 all unfurnished and disordered ! and— I beg your pardon, 
 my lady ! I cannot take you through these passages," 
 she added, curtseying for Lady Level to go out again. 
 " Deborah, go round and open the front-door." 
 
 Lady Level, in the midst of much lamentation, was 
 conducted to the front entrance, and thence ushered into a 
 long, low, uncarpeted room on the left of the dark hall. It 
 was very bare of furniture, chairs and a large table being 
 all that it contained. " It is of no consequence," said Lady 
 Level ; " I have only come to see liOrd Level, and may not 
 remain above an hour or two. I cannot tell. You are Mrs. 
 Edwards, I think. I have heard Lord Level mention you." 
 
 " My name is Edwards, my lady. I was housekeeper in 
 the late lord's time, and, when a young woman, I had the 
 honour of nursing my lord. Since the late lord's death, I 
 and my brother, Jacob Drewitt, have mostly lived here. He 
 used to be house steward at Marshdale." 
 
 Lady Level removed her bonnet and cloak, and threw 
 them on the table. She looked impatient and restless, as 
 she listened to the account of her husband's accident. He 
 had received an injury to his knee, when out riding, the day 
 after his arrival at Marshdale ; fever had set in, deepening 
 at times to slight delirium. 
 
 " I should like to see him," said Lady Level. " Will you 
 take me to his chamber ? " 
 
 Mrs. Edwards marshalled her upstairs. Curious, in-and-
 
 124 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 out, wide and shallow stairs they were, with long passages 
 and short turnihgs branching from them. She gently threw 
 open the door of a large, handsome room. On the bed lay 
 Lord Level, his eyes closed. 
 
 " He is dozing again, my lady," she whispared. " He is 
 sure to fall to sleep whenever the fever leaves him." 
 
 " There is no fire in the room ! " exclaimed Lady Level. 
 
 " The doctor says there's not to be any, my lady. In the 
 room opposite to this, across the passage, you will find a 
 good one. It is my lord's sitting-room when he is well. 
 And here," noiselessly opening a door facing the foot of the 
 bed, " is another chamber, that can be prepared for your 
 ladyship, if you remain." 
 
 The housekeeper left the room as she spoke, scarcely 
 knowing whether she stood on her head or heels, so com- 
 pletely was she confounded by this arrival of Lady Level's 
 — and nothing wherewith to receive her ! Mrs. Edwards 
 had her head and hands full just then. 
 
 As Lady Level moved forward, her dress came into con- 
 tact with a light chair, and moved it. The invalid started, 
 and raised himself on his elbow. 
 
 " Why !— who— is it ? " 
 
 " It is I, Lord Level," she said, advancing to the bed. 
 
 He looked strangely amazed and perplexed. He could 
 not believe his own eyes, and stared at her as though he 
 would discover whether she was really before him, or whether 
 he was in a dream. 
 
 " Don't you know me ? " she asked gently. 
 
 " Is it— Blanche ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " But where have you come from ? — what brings you 
 here ? " he slowly ejaculated. 
 
 " I came down by train to-day. I liave come to speak to 
 
 you."
 
 THE HOUSE AT MARSHDALE. 125 
 
 " You were in Germany. I left you in Germany ! " 
 
 " I thought I had been there long enough : too long ; 
 and I quitted it. Archibald, I could not stay there. Had 
 I done so, I should have been ill as you are. I think I 
 should have died." 
 
 He said nothing for a few moments, and appeared to be 
 lost in thought. Then he drew her face down to his, and 
 kissed it. 
 
 " You ought not to have come over without my per- 
 mission, Blanche." 
 
 " I did not travel alone. Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Ravens- 
 worth chanced to put up at the inn on their homeward 
 route, and I took the opportunity to come over Avith them." 
 
 The information evidently did not please Lord Level. 
 His brow contracted. 
 
 " You wrote me word that you had had an accident," 
 she continued. " How could I be contented to remain 
 away after that ? So I came over : and I went to your 
 rooms in Holies Street " 
 
 " Why on earth did you go there," he sharply interrupted, 
 *' when I had left them ? " 
 
 " But I did not know you had left them. How was I to 
 know you had come to Marshdale if you never told me so ? 
 When I found you had left Holies Street, I went straight 
 to Gloucester Place. Papa has just come home from Jersey." 
 
 " You ought to have remained in Germany until I was 
 able to join you," he reiterated irritably ; and Blanche could 
 not avoid seeing that he was growing agitated and feverish. 
 " What's to become of you ? Where are you to be ? " 
 
 " First of all, I want to have an explanation with you," 
 said Blanche. " I came over on purpose to have it ; to tell 
 you many things. One is, that I will no longer submit to 
 be treated as a child " 
 
 " Blanche ! " he curtly interrupted.
 
 126 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 "You are acting as a child now, and as nothing else. 
 This nonsense that you are talking— I arn not in a condition 
 to hear it." 
 
 " It is not nonsense," said Blanche. 
 
 " It is what I will not listen to. It was the height of 
 folly to come here. All you can do now is to go back to 
 London by the next train." 
 
 " Go back where ? " she passionately asked. " I have no 
 home in London." 
 
 " I dare say Major Carlen will receive you for a week. 
 Before that time I hope to be well enough to come up, and 
 prepare a home for you. Where are Sanders and Timms ? " 
 
 " I did not bring them down with me. They are at an 
 hotel. AVhy cannot I stay here ? " 
 
 " Because I won't have it. There is nothing in the place 
 ready for you, or suited to you." 
 
 " If it is suited to you, it's suited to mc. I say I will 
 not be treated as a child any longer. I could be quite 
 happy here. There is nothing I should like so much as to 
 explore this old house. I never saw such an array of ghostly 
 passages anywhere." 
 
 Something in the words seemed dangerously to excite 
 Lord Level. The fever was visibly increasing. 
 
 " I forbid you to explore ; I forbid you to remain here I " 
 he exclaimed in the deepest agitation. " Do you hear me, 
 Blanche ? — you must return by the next train." 
 
 " I will not," she replied, quite as obstinate as he. " I 
 will not go hence until I have had an explanation with you. 
 If you are too ill at present, I will wait for it." 
 
 He was indeed too ill. " Quiet above all things," the 
 doctor had said when he had paid his early morning visit. 
 But quiet Lord Level had not had ; his wife had put an 
 end to that. His talk grew random, his mind wandering ;
 
 THE HOUSE AT MARSHDALE. 127 
 
 a paroxysm of fever ensued. lu terror Lady Level rang 
 the bell. 
 
 Mrs. Edwards answered it. Blanche gazed at her with 
 astonishment, scarcely recognizing her. She had put on 
 her gala dress of days gone liy : a short, full, red petticoat, 
 a chintz gown, looped above it in festoons, high-heeled shoes, 
 buckles, snow-white stockings with worked " clocks," a mob 
 cap of clear lace, large gold earrings, and black mittens. 
 All this she had assumed out of respect to her new lady. 
 
 " Is he out of his mind ? " gasped Lady Level, terrified 
 at her lord's words and his restless motions. 
 
 " It is the fever, my lady," said Mrs. Edwards. " Dear, 
 dear ! And we thought him so much better to-day ! " 
 
 Close upon that. Dr. Macferraty, the medical man, came 
 in. He was of square-built frame with broad shoulders, 
 very dictatorial and positive considering his years, which 
 did not number more than seven-and-twenty. 
 
 "What mischief has been at work here ?"he demanded, 
 standing over the bed with Mrs. Edwards. " Who has been 
 with him ? " 
 
 8he explained that Lady l^cvel had arrived and had been 
 talking with his lordship. She — Mrs. Edwards — had begged 
 her ladyship not to talk to him ; l)ut — well, the young were 
 heedless and did not think of consequences. 
 
 " If she has worried him into -brain-fever, she will have 
 herself to thank for it," harshly spoke the doctor. And 
 Lady Level, who was in the adjoining room, overheard the 
 words. 
 
 " Something has happened to agitate my patient ! " 
 exclaimed Doctor Macferraty, when, in leaving the room, 
 he encountered Lady Level in the passage, and was intro- 
 duced to her by Mrs. Edwards. 
 
 " I am very sorry," she answered. " We were speaking 
 of family affairs, and Lord Level grew excited."
 
 128 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Then, madam," said the doctor, " do not speak of family 
 affairs again, whilst he is in this weak condition, or of any 
 other affairs likely to excite him. You must, if you please, 
 put off all such topics until he is better." 
 " How long will it be ? " asked Lady Level. 
 " I cannot say ; it may be a week, or it may be a month. 
 When once these intermittent fevers get into the system, it 
 is difficult to shake them off again." 
 
 " It will not go on to — to anything worse ? " questioned 
 Lady Level, timidly, recalling what she had just overheard. 
 " I hope not ; but I cannot answer for it. Your ladyship 
 must be good enough to bear in mind that much depends 
 upon his keeping himself tranquil, and upon those around 
 helping to keep him so." 
 
 The doctor withdrew as he spoke, telling Mrs. Edwards 
 that he would look in again at night. Lord Level remained 
 very excited throughout the rest of the day ; he had a bad 
 night, the fever continuing, and was no better in the morn- 
 ing. Mrs. Edwards had sat up with him. 
 
 Lady Level then made up her mind to remain at Marsh- 
 dale, consulting neither her lord nor any one else. As Major 
 Carlen had remarked, Blanche was developing a will of her 
 own. Though, indeed, it might not have been right to 
 leave him in his present condition. She sent for Sanders 
 and Timms, the two servants who had attended her from 
 Germany, and for certain luggage belonging to herself. 
 Mrs. Edwards did the best she could with this influx of 
 visitors to a scantily-furnished house. Lady Level occupied 
 the chamber that opened from her husband's ; it also opened 
 on to the corridor. 
 
 " Madam," said Dr. Macferraty to her, taking the bull by 
 the horns on one of the earliest days, " you must allow me 
 to give you a word of advice. Do not, just at present, enter 
 Lord Level's chamber ; wait until he is a little stronger.
 
 THE HOUSE AT MARSHDALE. 129 
 
 He has just asked me whether you had gone back to town, 
 and I did not say no. It is evident that your being here 
 troubles him. The house, as it is at present, is not in a 
 condition to receive you, or he appears to think so. There- 
 fore, so long as he is in this precarious state, do not show 
 yourself to him. Let him think you have returned to 
 London." 
 
 " Is his mind quite right again ? " 
 
 " By no means. But he has lucid intervals. I assure 
 your ladyship it is of the very utmost importance that he 
 should be kept tranquil. Otherwise, I will not answer for 
 the consequences." 
 
 Lady Level took the advice in all humility. Bitterly 
 though she was feeling upon some scores towards her 
 husband, she did not want him to die ; no, nor to have 
 brain-fever. So she kept the door closed between her room 
 and his, and was as quiet as a mouse at all times. And the 
 days began to pass on. 
 
 Blanche found them monotonous. She explored the house, 
 but the number of x)assages, short and long, their angles and 
 their turnings, confused her. She made the acquaintance 
 of the steward, ]\Ir. Drcwitt, an elderly gentleman who went 
 about in a plum-coloured suit and a large cambric frill to 
 his shirt. One autumn morning when Blanche had traversed 
 the long corridor, beyond the rooms which she and Lord 
 Level occupied, she turned into another at right angles 
 with it, and came to a door that was partly open. Passing 
 through it, she found herself in a narrow passage that she 
 had not before seen. Deborah, the good-natured house- 
 maid, suddenly came out of one of the rooms opening from 
 it, carrying a brush and dustpan. Deborah was the only 
 servant kept in the house, as far as Lady Level saw, apart 
 from the cook, who was fat and experienced. 
 
 " "What a curious old house ! " exclaimed Lady Level. 
 
 K
 
 130 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Nothing but dark passages that turn and wmd about until 
 you don't know where you are." 
 
 " It is that, my lady," answered Deborah. " In the late 
 lord's time the servants took to calling it the maze, it 
 puzzled them so. The name got abroad, and some people 
 call it the maze to this day." 
 
 " I don't think I have been in this passage before. Does 
 any one live or sleep here ? " added Lady Level, looking at 
 the household articles Deborah carried. 
 
 It was a dark, narrow passage, closed in by a door at each 
 end. The door at the upper end was of oak ; heavy, and 
 studded with nails. Four rooms opened from the passage, 
 two on each side, 
 
 " All these rooms are occupied by the master and missis," 
 said Deborah, alluding to the steward and his sister. " This 
 is Mrs. Edwards's chamber, my lady," pointing to the one 
 she had just quitted. " That beyond it is Mr. Drewitt's ; 
 the opposite room is their sitting-room, and the one beside 
 it is not used." 
 
 " "Where does that heavy door lead to ? " continued Lady 
 Level. 
 
 " It leads into the East Wing, my lady," replied Deborah. 
 " I have never entered that wing all the two years I've lived 
 here," continued the gossiping girl. " I am not allowed to 
 do so. The door is kept locked ; as well as the door 
 answering to it in the passage below." 
 
 " Does no one ever go into it ? " 
 
 "Why, yes, my lady; Mr. Drewitt does, and spends a 
 good part of his time there. He has a business-room there, 
 in which he keeps his books and papers relating to the 
 estate. Mrs. Edwards is in there, too, with him most days. 
 A.nd my lord goes in when he is down here." 
 
 " Then no one really inhabits that wing ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, my lady, John Snow and his Avifc live in it ;
 
 THE HOUSE AT MAESHDALE. 131 
 
 he's tlie head gardener. A many years he has been in the 
 family ; and one of the last things the late lord did before 
 he died was to give him that wing to live in. An easy life 
 Snow has of it now ; working or not, just as lie pleases, 
 When there's any unusual work to be done, our gardener on 
 this side is had in to help with it." 
 
 Lady Level did not fool much interested in the wing, or 
 in Snow the gardener. But it happened that not half an 
 hour after this conversation she chanced to see Mrs. 
 Snow. 
 
 Leaning, in her listlessncss, out of an open window that 
 was just above the side entrance, to which she had been 
 conducted by the boy on her way from the station, she was 
 noticing how high the wall was that separated the garden of 
 the house from the garden of the East Wing. Lofty trees, 
 closely planted, also flanked the wall, so that not the slightest 
 glimpse could be had on either side of the other garden. 
 The East Wing, with its grounds, Avas as completely hidden 
 from view as though it had no existence. While rather 
 wondering at this— for the East Wing was, after all, a part 
 of the house, and not detached from it — T^ady Level saw a 
 woman emerge from a little sheltered doorway in the wall, 
 lock it after her, and come up the path, key in hand. This 
 obscure doorway, and another at the foot of the East Wing 
 garden opening to the road, were apparently the only means 
 of entrance to it. To the latter door, always kept locked, 
 was attached a large bell, which awoke the surrounding 
 echoes Avhenever tradespeople or other applicants rang it. 
 
 *' Is that you, Hannah Snow ? " cried the cook, stepping 
 forward to meet the other as she came up the path. " And 
 how are you to-day 'i Do you want anything ? " 
 
 Catching the name, Lady Level looked out more closely. 
 She saw a tall, strong, respectable woman of middle age, 
 with a smiling, happy face, and laughing, hazel eyes. She
 
 132 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 wore a neat Avhite cap, a clean cotton gown, and graj- 
 checked apron. 
 
 " Yes, cook," was the answer, given in a merry voice. " I 
 want you to give me a handful of candied peel. I am pre- 
 paring a batch of cakes for my old mau, never supposing I 
 had not all the ingredients at hand, and I find I have no 
 peel. I'm sure I had some ; and I tell John he must have 
 stolen it." 
 
 " What a shame ! " cried the cook, taking the words 
 more literally than they were intended. Mrs. Snow laughed. 
 
 " Fact is, I suppose I used the last of it in the bread-and- 
 butter pudding I made last week," said she. 
 
 " You are always making cakes for that man o' yours, 
 seems to mc, Hannah," grumbled the cook. " We can smell 
 them over here when they're baking, and that's pretty 
 often." 
 
 " Seems I am : he's always asking for them," assented 
 Hannah. " He likes to eat one now and then between 
 meals, you see." 
 
 "Well, he's a rare one for his inside," retorted the cook, 
 as she went in for the candied peel. 
 
 " They seem to do very much as they like here," was the 
 only thought that crossed Lady Ljvel's mind. 
 
 On this same day Lord Level, who had grown so much 
 better as to be out of danger, dismissed his doctor. Present- 
 ing him with a handsome cheque, he told him that he 
 required no further assistance. Blanche received the news 
 from Mrs. Edwards. 
 
 " But is he so well as that ? " she asked, in surprise, 
 
 " Well, my lady, he is very much better, there's no doubt 
 of that. He will be out of bed to-morrow or the next day, 
 and if he takes care, will have no relapse," was the house- 
 keeper's answer. "No doubt it might be safer for the 
 doctor to continue to come a little longer, if it were only to
 
 THE HOUSE AT MARSUDALE. 133 
 
 ciijoiii strict quiet ; but you sec my lord docs not like 
 l)iin." 
 
 " I faucied lie did not." 
 
 "He is not our own doctor, as perhaps your ladyship has 
 Iieard," pursued Mrs. Edwards. " He is a Mr. Hill : a 
 clever, pleasant man, of a certain age, who was very intimate 
 with the late lord. They were close friends, I may say. 
 "When his lordship met with this accident, it put him out 
 uncommonly that we had to send for the young man, 
 Dr. Macferraty, Mr. Hill being away." 
 
 *' If Lord Level is so well as to do without a doctor, I 
 might go into his room. Don't you think so, Mrs. 
 Edwards ? " 
 
 " Better not for a day or two, my lady ; better not, 
 indeed. I'm afraid my lord will be angry at your having 
 stayed here — there being no fitting establishment or ac- 
 commodation for your ladyship ; and " 
 
 "That is such nonsense!" interrupted Lady Level. 
 "With Sanders and Timms here, I am more attended to 
 than is really necessary. And even if I had to put up 
 with discomfort for a short time, I dare say I should 
 survive it." 
 
 "And it might cause his lordship excitement, I was 
 about to say," quickly continued Mrs. Edwards. " A very 
 little thing would bring the fever back again." 
 
 Blanche sighed rebelliously, but recognized the obligation 
 to condemn herself a little longer to this dreary existence.
 
 13i THE STOEY OF CHABLES STRAKGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE QUAREEL. 
 
 The following day was charmingly fine : the sun brilliant, 
 the air warm as summer. In the afternoon Lady Level 
 went out to take a walk. Lord Level was not up that day, 
 but would be, all being well, on the morrow. It was the 
 injury to the knee more than his general health that was 
 keeping him in bed now. 
 
 Outside the gate Blanche looked about her, and decided 
 to take the way towards the railway station. Upper 
 Marshdale lay close beyond it, and she thought she would 
 see what the little town was like. If she felt tired after 
 exploring it, she could engage the solitary railway fly to 
 bring her home again. 
 
 She went along the deserted road, passing a peasant's 
 cottage now and then. Yery near to the station she met 
 the surly boy. He Avas coming along with a leap and a 
 whistle, and stopped dead at sight of Lady Level. 
 
 "I say," said he, in a low tone, all his glee and his 
 impudence gone out of him, "be you going there? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Lady Level, half smiling, for the boy 
 amused her. He had pointed to indicate the station, but 
 so awkwardly that she thought he pointed to the roofs and 
 chinmeys beyond it. " Yes, I am. "Why ? " 
 
 His face fell. " Not to tell of me ? " he gasped. 
 To tell of you ! What should I have to tell of you r " 
 
 (i nv
 
 THE QUARREL. 135 
 
 "About that there half-crown. You u'ti'c hhn to me, 
 mind ; I never asked. You can't sec the station-master 
 if you try : he's a gone to his tea." 
 
 " Oh, I won't tell of that," said Lady Level. " I am 
 going to the village, not to the station." 
 
 "They'd make such a row," said the boy, somewhat 
 relieved. " The porter'd be mad that it wasn't given to 
 him ; he might get me sent away perhaps for't. It's such 
 a lot, you see : a whole half-crown : when anything is 
 given, it's a sixpence. But 'tain't nothing that's given 
 mostly ; 7wfhin//" 
 
 The intense resentment thrown into the last word made 
 Lady Level laugh. 
 
 " It's a sight o' time, weeks and weeks, since I've had 
 anything given me afore, barring the three penny pieces 
 from Mr. Snow," went on the grumbling boy. "And 
 what's three penny pieces ? " 
 
 " Mr. Snow ? " repeated Lady Level. " AVho is he ? " 
 
 " He is Lord Level's head gardner, he be. He comes up 
 here to the station one day, not long afore you come down ; 
 and he collars the fly for the next down-train. The next 
 down-train comes in and brings my lord and a lady with 
 him. Mr. Snow, he puts the lady inside, and he puts what 
 luggage there w^ere outside. 'Twasn't much, and I helps 
 him, and he dives into his pockets and brings out three 
 penny pieces. And I'll swear that for weeks afore nobody 
 had never given me a single farthing." 
 
 Lady Level changed colour. "AVhat's your name?" 
 she suddenly asked the boy, to cover her confusion. 
 
 " It be Sam Doughty. That there lady—— " 
 
 " Oh, I know the lady," she carelessly interrupted, hating 
 herself at the same time for pursuing the subject and the 
 questions. " A lady with black hair and eyes, was it not, 
 and long gold earrings ? "
 
 13G THE STOEY OF CHAELES STRANGE. 
 
 " Wei], it were. I noticed the earrings, d*ye see, the 
 sun made 'em sparkle so. Handsome earrings they was ; 
 as handsome as she were." 
 
 "And Lord Level took her home with him in the fly, 
 did he ? " 
 
 " That he didn't. tShe went along of herself, Mr, Snow 
 a-riding on the bos. My lord walked across the fields. 
 The station-master tolled liira to mind the bnll, bnt my 
 lord called back that he warn't afraid," 
 
 There was nothing more to ask ; nothing more that she 
 could ask. Bat Lady Level had heard enough to disturb 
 her equanimity, and she turned without going on to Upper 
 Marshdale. That the lady with the gold earrings was 
 either in the house, or in its East Wing, and that that was 
 why she was wanted out of it, seemed clearer to her than 
 the sun at noonday. 
 
 That same evening, Lady Level's servants were at supper 
 in the large kitchen : where, as no establishment was kept 
 up in the house, they condescended to take their meals. 
 Deborah was partly waiting on them, partly gossiping, and 
 partly dressing veal cutlets and bacon in the Dutch oven 
 for what she called the upstairs supper. The cook had gone 
 to bed early with a violent toothache. 
 
 " You have enough there, I hope," cried Timms, as 
 Deborah brought the Dutch oven to the table to turn 
 the cutlets. 
 
 " Old Mr, Drewitt has such an appetite ; leastways at his 
 supper," answered Deborah. 
 
 " I wonder they don't take their meals below ; it's a long 
 Avay to carry them up all them stairs," remarked Mr. 
 Sanders, when Deborah was placing her dish of cutlets on 
 the tray prepared for it. 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind it ; I'm used to it now," said the good 
 humoured girl, as she went olf with a quick step.
 
 THE QUAliREL. 137 
 
 Deborah rclurued with a quicker step than she had 
 departed. "They are quarrelhiig like anything!" she 
 exclaimed in a low, frightened voice. " She's gone into uiy 
 lord's room, aiKl they are having it out over something or 
 other." 
 
 Timms, who was then engaged in eating some favourite 
 custard pudding, looked up. " AVhat ? "Who ? Do you 
 mean my lord and my lady ? How do you know, Deborah ? " 
 
 " I heard them wrangling as I went by. I had to pass 
 their rooms, you know, to get to Mr. Drewitt's rooms, and 
 I heard them still louder as I came back. They are quarrel- 
 ling just like common people. Has she a temper ? " 
 
 " No," said Timms. " He has, though ; that is, he can 
 be frightfully passionate at times." 
 
 " He is not thought so in this house," returned Deborah. 
 " To hear my master and mistress talk, my lord is just an 
 angel upon earth." 
 
 " Ah I " said Timms, sniffing significantly. 
 
 Her supper ended, but not her curiosity, Timms stole a 
 part of the way upstairs, and listened. But she only came 
 in for the end of the dispute, as she related to j\[r. Sanders 
 on her return. Lady Level, after some final speech of bitter 
 reproach, passed into her room and shut the door with a 
 force that shook the walls, and probably shook Lord Level, 
 who relieved his wrath by a little delicate language. So 
 much Timms heard ; but of what the quarrel had been 
 about, she did not gather the faintest glimmer. 
 
 The house went to rest. Silence, probaljly sleep, had 
 reigned within it for some two hours, and the clock had 
 struck one, when wild calls of alarm, coupled with the 
 ringing of his bell, issued from Lord Level's chamber. The 
 servants rose hastily, in terror. Those cries of fear came 
 not from their lord, but from Lady Level. 
 
 Sanders, partly attired, hastened thither ; Timms, in a
 
 138 THE STORY Ot^ CHARLES STRANG^. 
 
 huge shawl, opened her door and stopped him ; Deborah 
 came flying down the long corridor. Mrs. Edwards was 
 abeady in Lord Level's chamber. Lady Level, in a blue 
 silk wrapping-gown, her cries of alarm over, lay panting in 
 a chair, extremely agitated ; and Lord Level was in a 
 fainting-fit on his bed, with a stab in his arm, and another 
 in his side, from which blood was flowing. 
 
 Some hours later, Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Eavensworth 
 were at breakfast in Portland Place, when Major Carleu 
 entered without ceremony. His purple-and-scarlet cloak, 
 without which he rarely stirred out, had come unfastened 
 and trailed behind him ; his face looked scared and crest- 
 fallen. 
 
 " I must see you, I must see you ! " cried the Major, 
 throwing up his hands, as if apologizing for the intrusion, 
 " It's on a matter of life and death." 
 
 " We have finished breakfast," said ]\Irs. Eavensworth ; 
 and she rose and left them together. 
 
 The Major strode up to Arnold, his teeth actually chatter- 
 ing. " I told you what it would be," he muttered. " I 
 warned you of the consequences, if you helped Blanche to go 
 down there. She has attempted his life." 
 
 Mr. Eavensworth gazed at him inquiringly. 
 
 '• By George she has ! They had a blow-up last night, it 
 seems, and she has stabbed him. It can be no one else who 
 has done it. When these delicate girls are put up ; made 
 jealous, and that sort of thing ; they are as bad as their 
 more furious sisters. Witness that character of Scott's — 
 what's her name ? — Lucy, in the ' Bride of Lam ' " 
 
 " For pity's sake. Major Carlen, what are you saying ? " 
 interrupted Mr. Eavensworth, scarcely knowing whether 
 the Major was mad or sane, or had been taking dinner in 
 place of breakfast. " Don't introduce trashy romance into
 
 THE QUARREL. l39 
 
 the woes of real life ! Has anything happened at Lord 
 Level's, or has it not ? " 
 
 " He is stabbed, I tell you. One of Lord Level's servants, 
 Sanders, arrived before I was up, with a note from Blanche. 
 Here, read it ! " But tlie Major's hand and the note shook 
 together as he held it out. 
 
 *' Do, dear papa, hasten down ! A shocking event has 
 happened to Lord Level. He has been stabbed in bed. I 
 am terrified out of my senses. 
 
 "Blanche Level." 
 
 " Now, she has done it," whispered the Major again, his 
 stony eyes turned on Mr. Eavensworth in dread. " As sure 
 as that her name's Blanche Level, it is she who has done 
 it!" 
 
 " Nonsense ! Impossible. Have you learnt any of the 
 details ? " 
 
 " A few scraps. As much as the man knew. He says 
 they were awakened by cries in the middle of the night, and 
 found Lord Level had been stabbed ; and her ladyship was 
 with him, screamiug, and fainting on a chair. ' AVho did it, 
 Sanders ? ' said I. 'It's impossible to make out who did it, 
 sir,' said he ; ' there was no one indoors to do it, and all 
 the house was in bed.' ' AVliat do the poUce say ? ' I asked. 
 'The police are not called in, sir,' returned he ; 'my lord 
 and my lady won't have it done.' Now, Eavensworth, what 
 can be clearer proof than that ? I used to think her 
 mother had a tendency to insanity ; I did, by Jove ! she 
 went once or twice into such a tantrum with me. Thoudi 
 she had a soft, sweet temper in general, mild us milk." 
 
 " \V^el], you must go down without delay." 
 
 The grim old fellow put up his hands, which were trem- 
 bling visibly. "I wouldn't go down if you gave me a
 
 140 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE, 
 
 hundred poimds a mile, poor as I am, just now. Look 
 ■what a state I'm in, as it is : I had to get Sanders to hook 
 my cloak for me, and he didn't half do it. I wouldn't in- 
 terfere between Blanche and Level for a gold-mine. You 
 must go down for me ; I came to ask you to do so." 
 
 " It is impossible for me to go down to-day. I wish I 
 knew more. How did you hear there had been any dis- 
 agreement between them .'' " 
 
 " Sanders let it out. He siid the women-servants heard 
 Level and his wife hotly disputing." 
 
 " Where is Sanders ? " 
 
 " In your hall. I brought him round with mc." 
 
 The man was called in, and was desired to repeat what he 
 knew of the affair. It was not much, and it has been 
 already stated. 
 
 ■" Some one must have got in, Sanders," observed Mr. 
 Ravensworth, when he had listened. 
 
 " Well, sir, I don't know," was the answer. " The curious 
 thing is that there are no signs of it. All the doors and 
 Avindows had been fastened before we went to bed, and they 
 had not been, so far as we can discover, in the least 
 disturbed." 
 
 " Do you suspect any one in the house ? " 
 
 " Why — no, sir ; there's no one wo like to suspect," 
 returned Sanders, coughing dubiously. 
 
 " The servants " 
 
 " Oh, none of the servants would do such a thing," in- 
 terrupted Sanders, very decidedly : and Mr. Ravensworth 
 feared they might be getting upon dangerous ground. 
 He caught Major Carlcn's significant glance. It said as 
 plainly as glance ever yet spoke, " The man suspects his 
 mistress." 
 
 " Is Lord Level's bedroom isolated from the rest of the 
 rooms ? "
 
 THE QUAIUIEL. 141 
 
 " Pretty ^Yell, sir, for that. No one sleeps near him but 
 my Uidy. Iler room opens from his." 
 
 " Coiikl he have dona it himself, Sanders ? " struck in 
 Major Cavlen. " He has been light-headed from fever." 
 
 " Just at the first moment the same question occurred 
 to me, sir ; but we soon saw that it was not at all likely. 
 The fever had abated, my lord was quite collected, and the 
 the stab in the arm could not have been done by him- 
 self." 
 
 " Was any instrument found ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir : a clasp-knife, with a small, sharp blade. lb 
 was found on the floor of my lady's room." 
 
 An ominous silence ensued. 
 
 " Are the stabs dangerous ? " inquired IMr. Raveusworth. 
 
 " It is thought they are only slight, sir. The danger 
 will be if they bring back the fever. His lordship will not 
 have a doctor called in " 
 
 " Not have a doctor called in ! " 
 
 " He forbids it absolutely, sir. When we reached his 
 room, in answer to my lady's cries, he had fainted ; but he 
 soon recovered, and hearing IMrs. Edwards speak of the 
 doctor, he refused to have him sent for." 
 
 "You ought to have sent aU the same," imperiously 
 spoke Mr. Ravens worth. 
 
 Sanders smiled. " Ah, sir, but my lord's will is law." 
 
 Mr. Ravensworth turned to a side-table. He wrote a 
 rapid word to Lady Level, promising to be with her that 
 evening, gave it to Sanders, and bade him make the best of 
 his way back to Marehdale. Certain business of importance 
 was detaining him in town for the day. 
 
 " When you get down there, Ravensworth, you won't 
 say that I wouldn't go, you know," said the Major. " Say 
 I couldn't." 
 
 " What excuse can I make for you ? "
 
 142 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 "Any excuse that comes uppermost. Say I'm ia bed 
 with gout. I have charged Sanders to hold his tongue." 
 
 The day had quite passed before Mr. Ravensworth was 
 able to start on his journey. It was dark wlien he reached 
 Upper Marshdale. There he found Sanders and the 
 solitary fly. 
 
 " Is Lord Level better ? " was his first question. 
 " A little better this evening, sir, I believe ; but he has 
 again been off his head with fever, and Dr. Macferraty had, 
 after all, to be called in," replied the man, " My lady is 
 pretty nearly beside herself too." 
 
 " Have the police been called in yet ? " 
 " No, sir ; no chance of it ; my lord and lady won't have 
 it done." 
 
 " It appears to be an old-fashioned place, Sanders," 
 remarked Mr. Ravensworth, when they had reached the 
 house. 
 
 •' It's the most awkward, turn-about place inside, sir, you 
 ever saw ; nothing luit passages. But my lord never lives 
 here ; he only pays it promiscuous visits now and then, and 
 brings down no servants with him. He was kept prisoner 
 here, as may be said, through jamming his knee in a gate- 
 Avay ; and then my lady came down, and wq are putting up 
 with all sorts of inconveniences." 
 " Who lives here in general ? " 
 
 " Two old retainers of the Level family, sir : both of 'em 
 Bights to look upon ; she especially. She dresses up like 
 an old picture." 
 
 Waiting within the doorwav to receive Mr. Ravensworth 
 was ]\Irs. Edwards. He could not take his eyes from her. 
 He had never seen one like her in real life, and Sanders's 
 words, " dresses up like an old picture," recurred to him. 
 He had thought this style of dress completely gone out of 
 date, excejH in pictures ; and here it was before him, worn
 
 THE QUARREL. 143 
 
 by a living woman ! She dropped him a stately curtsey 
 that would have served for the prelude to a Court mhiuet 
 in the palmy days of Queeu Charlotte. 
 
 *' Sir, you are the gentleman expected by my lady ? " 
 
 " Yes— ;arr. Ravensworth." 
 
 " I'll show you in myself, sir." 
 
 Taking up a caudle from a marble slab — there was no 
 other light to be seen — she conducted him through the 
 passage, and, turning down another which stood at right 
 angles with it, halted at the door of a room. In answer to 
 a question from Mr. Havensworth, she said his lordship was 
 much better within the last hour — quite himself again. 
 " AYhat would you Ije pleased to take, sir ? " she added. " I 
 will order it to be brought in to you." 
 
 " I require nothing, thank you." 
 
 But quite a housekeeper of the old school, and essentially 
 hospitable, she would not take a refusal. " I hope you 
 will, sir : tea — or coffee— or supper ? " 
 
 " A little coffee, then." 
 
 She dropped another of her ceremonious curtseys, and 
 threw open the door. " The gentleman you expected, my 
 lady." 
 
 It was another long, bare room, but not the one already 
 mentioned. Singularly bare and empty it looked to-night. 
 A large fire burned in the grate, half-way down the room, 
 and in an easy-chair before it reclined Lady Level— asleep. 
 Two wax candles stood on the high carved mantelpiece, and 
 the large oak table behind Lady Level was dark with age. 
 Everything about the room was dreary, excepting the fire, 
 the lights, and the sleeper. 
 
 Should he awaken her ? He looked at Blanche Level 
 and deliberated. Her feet rested on a footstool, and her 
 head lay on the low back of the chair, a cushion under it. 
 She wore an evening dress of light silk, trimmed with white
 
 144 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 lace. Her neck and arms, only relieved by the lace, looked 
 cold and bare in the dreary room, for she wore no orna- 
 ments ; nothing of gold or silver was about her — excepting 
 her wedding-ring. Was it possible that she had attempted 
 the life of him who had put on that ring ? There was a 
 careworn look on her face as she slept which lessened her 
 beauty, and two indented lines rose in her forehead, not 
 usual to a girl of twenty ; her mouth, slightly open, showed 
 her teeth ; and very pretty teeth were Lady Level's. No, 
 thought Mr. Ravensworth, guilty of that crime she never 
 had been ! 
 
 Should he arouse her ? A coal fell on to the earth with 
 a rattle, and settled the question, for Lady Level opened 
 her eyes. A moment's dreamy unconsciousness, and then 
 she started up, her face flushing. 
 
 " Oh, Arnold, I beg your pardon ! I must have dropped 
 asleep. How good of you to come ! " 
 
 AYith a burst of tears she held out her hands ; it seemed 
 so glad a relief to have a friend there. 
 
 " Arnold, I am so miserable — so frightened ! Why did 
 not papa come down this morning ? " 
 
 " He was " Mr. Ravensworth searched for an 
 
 excuse and did not find one easily. " Something kept him 
 in town, and he requested me to come down in his stead, 
 and see if I could be of any use to you." 
 
 " Have you heard much about it ? " she asked, in a whisper. 
 
 " Sanders told me and your father Avhat little he knew. ■ 
 But it appeared most extraordinary to both of us. Sit 
 down. Lady Level," he continued, drawing a chair nearer 
 to hers. " You look ill and fatigued." 
 
 "I am not ill; unless uncertainty and anxiety can be 
 called illness. Have you dined ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but your housekeeper insists on hospitality, and 
 will send me up some coffee."
 
 "rm QUARLEL. 145 
 
 " Bid you ever sec so complete a ji^ictiire as she is ? Just 
 like those ens^ravino;s wc admire in the old frames." 
 
 " Will you describe to me this — the details of the l}usi- 
 ncss I came down to hear ? " 
 
 "I am trying to delay it," she said, with a forced langli 
 — a laugh tluit caused Mr. llavensworth involuntarily to 
 knit his brow, for it spoke of insincerity. " I think I 
 will not tell you anything about it until to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 " I must leave again to-night. The last up-train 
 passes " 
 
 " Oh, but you will stay all niglit," she interrupted 
 nervously. " I cannot be left alone. Mrs. Edwards is 
 preparing a room for you somewhere." 
 
 "Well, wo will discuss that by-and-by. What is this 
 unpleasant business al^out Lord Level ? " 
 
 '• I don't know what it is," she replied. *' He has been 
 attacked and stabbed. I only know that it nearly frightened 
 me to death.' 
 
 " By whom was it done ? " 
 
 " I don't know," she repeated. " They say the doors and 
 w^indows were all fastened, and that no one could have 
 got in. " 
 
 Now, strange as it may appear, and firmly impressed as 
 Mr. Raveusworth was with the innocence of Lady Level, 
 there was a tone in her voice, a look in her countenance, as 
 she spoke the last few sentences, that he did not like. Her 
 manner was evasive, and she did not meet his glance openly. 
 
 " W^ere you in his room when it happened ? " 
 
 " Oh dear no ! Since I came down here I have occupied 
 a room next to his ; his dressing-room, I believe, when he 
 stays here at ordinary times ; and I was in bed and asleep 
 at the time." 
 
 " Asleep ? "
 
 14^ THE STORY 01^ CHAELES STRANGE. 
 
 '" Fast asleep. Until something woke me : and when I 
 'entered Lord Level's room, I fomid — I found — what had 
 haiDpened." 
 
 " Had it just happened ? " 
 
 " Just. I Avas terrified. After I had called the servants, 
 I think I nearly fainted. Lord Level quite fainted." 
 
 " But did you not sec any one in the room who could 
 have attacked him ? " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 ' " Nor hear any noise ? " 
 
 " I — thought I heard a noise ; I am positive I thought 
 BO. And I heard Lord Level's voice." 
 
 " That you naturally would hear. A man whose life is 
 being attempted would not be likely to remain silent. But 
 you must try and give me a l^etter explanation than this. 
 You say something suddenly awoke you. What was it ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell you," repeated Lady Level. 
 
 " Was it a noise ? " 
 
 " N — ; not exactly. I cannot say precisely what it was." 
 
 Mr. Eavensworth deliberated before he spoke again. 
 " My dear Lady Level, this will not do. If these questions 
 are painful to you, if you prefer not to trust me, they shall 
 cease, and I will return to town as wise as I came, without 
 having been able to afford you any assistance or advice. I 
 think you could tell me more, if you would do so. 
 
 Lady Level burst into tears and grew agitated. A dis- 
 agreeable doubt— guilty or not guilty 1 — stole over Mr. 
 Ravens worth. " Oh, heaven, that it should be so ! " he 
 cried to himself, recalUng how good and gentle she had 
 been through her innocent girlhood. " I came down, hoping 
 to be to you a true friend," he resumed in low tones. " If 
 you will allow me to be so, if you will confide in me, Blanche, 
 come what may, I will stand by you." 
 
 There was a long silence. Mr. Eaveusworth did not
 
 THE QUATUiKL; 147 
 
 clioose to break ifc. lie had said his say^ aud the rest 
 remained "with Lady Level. 
 
 " Lord Level has made me very angry indeed," she broke 
 out, indignation arresting her tears. " He has made me — 
 almost — hate him." 
 
 " But you are not telling me what occm'red." 
 
 " I have told you," she answered. " I was suddenly 
 aroused from sleep, and then I heard Lord Level's voice, 
 calling ' Blanche ! Blanche ! ' I went into his room, ran 
 up to him, and he put out his arms and caught me to him; 
 Then I saw blood upon his night-shirt, and he told me he 
 had been stabbed. Oh, how I shuddered ! I cannot think 
 of it now without feeling sick and ih, Avithout almost faint- 
 ing," she added, a shiver running through her frame; 
 
 J\L-. Ravensworth's opinion veered round again. " She 
 do it — nonsense ! " Lady Level continued : 
 
 " ' Don't scream ; don't scream, Blanche,' he said. ' I 
 am not much hurt, and I will take care of you,' and he held 
 mc to him as though I were in a vice. I thought he did 
 not want me to alarm the house." 
 
 " Did he keep you there long ? " 
 
 " It seemed long to me : I don't suppose it was more 
 than a couple of minutes. His hold gradually relaxed, aud 
 then I saw that he had fainted. Oh, the terror of that 
 moment ! all the more intense that it had been suppressed. 
 I feared he might bleed to death. I opened the door, aud 
 cried and screamed, and called for the servants ; I rushed 
 back to the room and rang the bell ; and then I fell back 
 in the easy-chair, and could do no more." 
 
 "AVell, this is a better explanation than you gave me 
 at lii-st," said Mr. Ravensworth, encouragingly : and she 
 had spoken more readily, without appearance of disguise. 
 " Then it was Lord Level's calling to you that first aroused 
 you ? "
 
 148 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " No ; oh uo ; it was not that. It " she stopped iii 
 
 confusion. "At least —perhaps it was. It — I can't say." 
 She had relapsed into evasion again, and once more Mr. 
 Eavensworth was plunged in doubt. He leaned towards her. 
 
 " I am going to ask you a question, Lady Level, and you 
 must of course answer it or not as you please. I can only 
 repeat that any confidence you repose in me shall never be 
 betrayed. Did Lord Level inflict this injury on himself ? " 
 
 " No, that was impossible," she freely answered ; " it 
 must have been done to him." 
 
 " The weapon, I hear, was found in your room." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " But how could it have come there ? " 
 
 " As if I knew ! " 
 
 " Why do you object to the police being called in ? " 
 
 " It was Lord Level who objected. When he recovered 
 from his faintness, and heard them speaking of the police, 
 he called Mr. Drewitt to him — who is master of the house 
 under Lord Level— and charged him that nothing of the 
 kind should be done. I would rather they were here," she 
 added after a pause. " I should feel safer. This morning 
 I went to my husband and told him if he would not have 
 in the police, the house searched, and the facts investigated, 
 I should die with terror. He replied, jestingly, then if I 
 chose to be so foolish, I must die : the hurt was his, not 
 mine, and if he saw no occasion for having in the police, 
 and did not choose to have them in, surely I need not want 
 them. I was jwrfectly safe, and so was he, he continued, 
 and he would sec that I was kept so. He would not even 
 have the doctor called in at first ; but towards mid-day, 
 Avhen the fever returned and he became delirious, Mr. 
 Drewitt sent for him." 
 
 " That seems more strange than all— refusing to have a 
 doctor. He "
 
 THE QUARREL. 149 
 
 The arrival of coffee interrupted tliem. Sanders brong-Ut 
 it in a silver coffee-pot on a silver tray, with biscuits and 
 other lii^ht refreshments ; and Mrs. Edwards attended to 
 pour it out. Mr. Ravensworth repeated to her what he had 
 just said about the doctor. 
 
 " The fact is, sir, my lord does not like Dr. Macferraty," 
 she rejoined. " Xone of us in this house do like him ; we 
 cannot endure him. He has not long been in practice, and 
 we look upon him as an upstart. It is a great misfortune 
 that Mr. Hill is away just now." 
 
 " The usual attendant, I presume, Mrs. Edwards ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir ; and a friend besides. He and the late lord 
 seemed almost like brothers, so intimate were they. Mr, 
 Hill's mother is going on for ninety ; she is beginning to 
 break, and he has gone over to see her. Slie lives in the 
 Isle of Man. It is almost a month since he went away." 
 
 " The late lord .' Let me see. He was the present lord's 
 uncle, was he not ? " 
 
 " Why, no, sir ; he was his father," returned Mrs. Edwards, 
 surprised at the mistake. " The late peer, Archibald Lord 
 Level, had two sons, Mr. Francis the heir, and Mr. Archi- 
 bald. Mr. Francis died of consumption, and lies buried in 
 the family vault in ]\Iarshdale Churcli ; and Mr. Archibald, 
 the only one left, succeeded to his father." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I had forgotten," said Mr. Ptavensworth. 
 '* An idea was floating in my mind that the present peer 
 bad not been always the heir-apparent."
 
 a50 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE, 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MYSTERY. 
 
 Silence had fallen upon the room. Coffee had been taken, 
 and the tray carried away by Mrs. Edwards. It was yet 
 only eight o'clock. Mr. Ravensworth sat in mental per- 
 plexity, believing he had not come to the bottom of this 
 dreadful affair ; no, nor half-way to it. 
 
 But Lady Level was in still greater perplexity, her mind 
 buried in miserable reverie. A conviction that she was 
 being frightfully wronged in some way, and ^that she would 
 not bear it, lay uppermost with her. Since meeting with 
 the railway boy, Sam Doughty, the previous afternoon, and 
 hearing the curious information he had disclosed, her 
 temper had been gradually rising. It was temper that had 
 caused her to declare herself to Lord Level while the 
 servants (as related in a former chapter) were at supper in 
 the kitchen, and Mrs. Edwards and the old steward were 
 shut up in their sitting-room, waiting for their own supper 
 to be served. The coast thus clear, in went Blanche to her 
 lord's chamber. Xot to open out the budget of her wrongs 
 — ^lie might not be sufficieiitly well for that — but to announce 
 herself. To let him see that she was still in the house, that 
 she had disregarded his injunction to quit it ; and to assure 
 him, in her rebellious spirit, that she meant to remain in it 
 as long as she pleased. Xot a word of suspected and un- 
 orthodox matters did Lady Level breathe, and the quarrel
 
 MYSTERY. 151 
 
 that ai'ose between them was wholly on the score of her 
 (lisoliedience. Lord Level was passionately angry, thus to 
 have been set at naught. He told her that as his wife she 
 owed him obedience and must give it to him. She retorted 
 that she would not do so. The dispute went no further 
 than that ; but loud and angry words passed on both sides. 
 And the next episode in the drama, some three or four hours 
 later, was the mysterious attack upon Lord Level. 
 
 " Arnold," suddenly spoke her ladyship, looking up from 
 her chair, " T mean to take a very decisive step." 
 
 " In what way ? " he quietly asked, from his seat on the 
 other side of the fireplace. " To send for the police ? " 
 
 " Xo, no, no ; not that. I shall separate from Lord 
 Level." 
 
 " Oh," said Mr. Kavensworth, taken by surprise, and 
 thinking she was jesting. 
 
 " As soon as he is well again, and able to discuss matters, 
 I shall demand a separation. I shall insisf upon it. If 
 he will not accord it to me privately, I shall apply for it 
 publicly." 
 
 " Blanche, you will do no such thing ! " ho exclaimed, 
 rising in excitement. " You do not know what you are 
 saying." 
 
 "And you do not know how much cause I have for 
 saying it," she answered. Lord Level has — has — insulted 
 me." 
 
 " Hush ! " said Mr. Ravensworth. " I don't quite know 
 what you mean by insult " 
 
 "And I cannot tell you," she interrupted, her pretty 
 black satin slipper beating its indignation on the hearthrug, 
 her cheeks wearing a delicate rose-flush. " It is a thing I 
 can speak of only to himself." 
 
 ** But — I was going to say — Lord Level does not, I feel 
 sure, intrude personal insult upon you. Anything that may
 
 152 THE STORY OF CflARLES STRANGE. 
 
 take place outside your knowledge you had better neither 
 notice nor inquire into." 
 
 Lady Level shook her head defiantly. " I mean to do it." 
 
 '• I will not hear another word upon this point," said Mr. 
 llavensworth, sternly. " You are as yet not much more 
 than a child, young lady; when you area little older and 
 wiser, you will see how foolish such ideas are. For your 
 own sake, Blanche, put them away from you." 
 
 " I wish my dear brother Tom Avere here ! " she petu- 
 lantly returned. " It was a shame his regiment should bo 
 sent out to India ! " 
 
 Mr. Eavensworth drew in his stern lips. He had sus- 
 pected that of the dreadful fate of Tom Heriot she must 
 still be ignorant. The suspicion was now confirmed. 
 
 At that moment the steward, Mr. Drewitt, appeared ; 
 and Lady Level introduced him by name. Mr. Ravens- 
 worth saw a pale, venerable man of sixty years, still strong 
 and upright, looking like a gentleman of the old, old school, 
 in his plum-coloured suit and white silk stockings, his silver 
 knec-bucklcs, his low shoes, and his voluminous cambric 
 shirt-frill. He brought a message from his lord, who 
 Avished to see Mr. Eavensworth. 
 
 "Who told Lord Level that Mr. Eavensworth AA'as 
 here ? " exclaimed Lady Level, quickly. 
 
 " J\[adam, it Avas I. My lord heard some one being 
 shown in to your ladyship, and inquired who had come. I 
 am sorry he has asked for you, sir," candidly added the 
 stCAvard, as they left the room together. " The fever has 
 abated, but the least excitement Avill bring it on again." 
 
 Lady Level Avas sorry also. She did not care that Mr. 
 Eavensworth's presence in the house should be known 
 upstairs. The fact Avas that one day Avlien she and her 
 husband were on their homeward journey from Savoy, and 
 ]>lanche Avas indulging in odds and ends of gricA'ances
 
 MYSTERY. 153 
 
 agaiust lier lord, as iu licr ill-feeliug towards him she was 
 then taking to do, she had spoken a few words in sheer 
 perverseness of spirit to make him jealous of Arnold 
 Eavensworth. Lord Level said nothing, but he took the 
 words to heart. He had not liked tbat gentleman before ; 
 he hated bim now. Blanche blushed for herself as she 
 recalled it. 
 
 Of course, it was not the visitor likely to give most 
 pleasure to Lord Level. As the steward introduced Mr. 
 Ravensworth and left them together, Lord Level regarded 
 him with a cold, stern glance. 
 
 " So it is you ! " he exclaimed. " May I ask what 
 brings you down here ? Did my lady send for you ? " 
 
 "IS"©," answered Mr. Ravenswortb, advancing towards 
 the bed, " Major Carlen called at my house this morning 
 and requested me to come down. I could not reach 
 Marshdale before to-night." 
 
 " Major Carlen ? Oh ! very good. Major Carlen dare 
 not interfere between me and my wife ; and he knows 
 that." 
 
 " So far as I believe, Major Carlen has no intention or 
 wish to interfere. Lady Level sent to him in her alarm, 
 and he requested me to come down in his place." 
 
 <'If ILajor Carlen has entered into an arrangement with 
 you to come to my house and pry into matters that concern 
 myself alone— " 
 
 " I beg your lordship's pardon," was the curt inter- 
 ruption. " I do not like or respect Major Carlen sufficiently 
 well to enter into any ' arrangement ' with him. I came 
 down here, certainly in compliance with his desire, but in 
 a spirit of kindness towards Lady Level, and to be of 
 assistance to yourself if it were possible." 
 
 " How came you to 1)nng Lady Level over from 
 Germany ? "
 
 154 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " She wished to como over." 
 
 " And I wished and desired her to stay there until I 
 conld join her. Do you call that interference ? " 
 
 " It was nothing of the kind. On the morning of onr 
 departure from the inn, Lady Level told my wife and 
 myself that she should take the opportunity to travel with 
 us. She and her servants were even tlien dressed for the 
 journey, and her travelling-carriage stood ready packed in 
 the yard. If she did this against your wish, I am in no 
 way responsible for it. It was not my place to dictate to 
 her ; to say she should go, or should remain. Be assured, 
 I am the last man in the world unduly to interfere with 
 other people ; and my coming down now was entirely 
 brought about by Major Carlen." 
 
 Lord Level was not insensible to reason. He remained 
 silent for a time, the angry expression gradually leaving 
 his face. Mr. Eavensworth spoke ; 
 
 " I hope this injury will not prove a grave one." 
 
 " It is a trifle," was the answer ; " nothing but a trifle. 
 It is my knee that keeps me jDrostrate here more than 
 anything else ; and I have intermittent fever with it." 
 
 " Can I be of service to you ? If so, command me." 
 
 " Much obliged. No, I do not want any one to be of 
 service to me, if you allude to this stabbing business. 
 Some drunken fellow got in, and " 
 
 " The servants say the doors were all left fastened, and 
 were so found." 
 
 " The servants say so to conceal their carelessness," cried 
 Lord Level, as a contortion of pain crossed his face. " This 
 knee gives me twinges at times like a red-hot iron." 
 
 " If anyone had broken in, especially any " 
 
 " Mr. Eavensworth," imperatively interrupted Lord 
 Level, " it is my pleasure that this affair should not be 
 investigated. I say that some man got iu— a poacher,
 
 ]\IYSTERy. 155 
 
 probaMy, wlio must Imvc been the worse for drink — and he 
 fittackcd me, not knowing- what he was doing. To liavc 
 a commotion made over it would only excite me in my 
 present feverish condition. Therefore I shall put up with 
 the injury, and shall be well all the sooner for doing so. 
 You will bo so obhging," he added, some sarcasm in his 
 tone, " as to do the same." 
 
 But now, Mr. Eavensworth did not show himself wise in 
 that moment. He urged, in all good faith, a different 
 course of actiou. The presumption angered and excited 
 Lord Level. In no time, as it seemed, and without 
 sufficient cause, the fever returned and mounted to the 
 brain. His face grew crimson, his eye wild ; his voice rose 
 almost to a scream, and he flung his uninjured arm about 
 the bed. Mr. Ravensworth, in self-reproach for what he 
 had done, looked for the bell and rang it. 
 
 " Drewitt, are the doors fastened ? " raved his lordship 
 in delirium, as the steward hastened in. "Ho you hear 
 me, Hrewitt ? Have you looked to the doors ? You must 
 have left one of them open ! Where are the keys ? The 
 keys, I say, Hrewitt ! — What brings that man here ? " 
 
 " You had better go down, sir, out of his sight," 
 whispered the steward, for it was at Mr. Ravensworth the 
 invalid was excitedly pointing. " I knew what it would 
 be if he began talking. And he was so much better ! " 
 
 " Lord Level excites himself for nothing," was the de- 
 precating answer. 
 
 " Why, of course," said Mr. Hrewitt. " It is the nature 
 of fever-patients to do so." 
 
 Mrs. Edwards came in with appliances to cool the heated 
 head, and Mr. Ravensworth returned to the sittiug-rooni 
 below. Blanche was not there. Close upon that. Dr. 
 Macfcrraty called. After he had been with his patient 
 and dressed the wounds, he came busthug into the sitting-
 
 156 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 room. Tills loud young man bad a nose that turned 
 straight up, giving an impudent look to his face, and -wide- 
 open, round green eyes. But no doubt he had his good 
 points, and was a skilful surgeon. 
 
 " You are a friend of the family, I hear, sir," he began, 
 " I hope you intend to order an investigation into this 
 extraordinary affair ? " 
 
 " I have no authority for doing so. And Lord Level 
 does not wish it done," 
 
 " A fig for Lord Level ! He does not know what he's 
 saying," cried Dr. Macferraty. "There never was so 
 monstrous a thiug heard of as that a nobleman should be 
 stabbed in his own bed and the assassin be let off scot-free ! 
 We need not look far for the culprit ! " 
 
 The last words, significantly spoken, jarred on Mr. 
 Eavensworth's ears. " Have you a suspicion ? " he asked. 
 
 "I can put two and two together, sir, and find they 
 make four. The windows were fast ; the doors were fast ; 
 there was no noise, no disturbance, no robbery : well, then, 
 what deduction have we to fall back upon Ijut that the 
 villain, he or she, is an inmate of the house ? " 
 
 Mr. Ravensworth's pulses beat a shade more quickly. 
 " Do you suspect one of the servants ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do." 
 
 " But the servants are faithful and respectable. They 
 are not suspected indoore, I assure you." 
 
 " Perhaps not ; they are out-of-doors, though. The 
 whole neighbourhood is in commotion over it ; and how 
 Drewitt and the old lady can let these two London servants 
 be at large is the talk of the place." 
 
 " Oh, it is the London servants you suspect, then, or one 
 of them ? " 
 
 '■ Ljok here," said Dr. Macferraty, dropping his voicp 
 and bending forward in his chair till his face almos^
 
 MYSTERY. 157 
 
 touclicd Mv. ruivcusworth's : *' that Uie uccd was done by 
 an inmate of the house is ccvUiin. Xo one got in, or could 
 have ffot in ; it is nonsense to su2.'irest it. The inmates 
 consist of Lady Level and the servants only. If you take 
 it from the servants, you must lay it upon her." 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " "Well," went on the doctor, " it is impossible to suspect 
 her. A delicate, refined girl, as she is, could not do so evil 
 a thing. So we must needs look to the servants. Deborah 
 would not do it ; the stout old cook could not. She was 
 in bed ill, besides, and slept through all the noise and 
 confusion. The two other servants, Sanders and Timms, 
 are strangers." 
 
 " I feel sure they uo more did it than I," impulsively 
 spoke Mr. Eavensworth. 
 
 " Then you would fall back upon Lidy Level ? " 
 
 "No, no!" flashed Mr. Ravensworth. "The bare 
 suggestion of the idea is an insult to her." 
 
 Dr. Macferraty drew himself back in his chair. " There's 
 a mystery in the affair, look at it which way you will, sir," 
 he cried raspingly. " My lord snys he did not recognize 
 the assassin ; but, if he did not, why should he forbid 
 investigation .? Put it as you do, that the two servants 
 arc innocent ■ — why, then, I fairly own I am puzzled. 
 Another thing puzzles me : the knife was found in Lady 
 Level's chamber, yet she protests that she slept through it 
 all — was only awakened by his lordship calling to her when 
 it was over." 
 
 " It may have been flung in." 
 
 " No ; it was carried in ; for blood had dripped from it 
 along the floor." 
 
 " Has the weapon been recognized ? " 
 
 " Not that I am aware of. No one owns to knowing it. 
 Anyway, it i^ an affair that ought to be, and that must be,
 
 l58 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 inquired into officially," concluded the doctor from the 
 corridor, as he said good night and went bustling out. 
 
 Mr. Ravensworth, standing at the sitting-room door, saw 
 him meet the steward, who miLst have overheard the words, 
 and now advanced with cautious steps. Touching Mr. 
 Eavensworth's arm, he drew him within the shadow cast by 
 a remote corner. 
 
 "Sir," he whispered, " my lady told Mrs. Edwards that 
 you were a firm friend of hers ; a sure friend ? " 
 
 " I trust I am, Mr. Drewitt." 
 
 *' Then let it drop, sir ; it is no common robber who has 
 done this. Let it drop, for her sake and my lord's." 
 
 Mr. Ravensworth felt painfully perplexed. Those few 
 words, spoken by the faithful old steward, was more fraught 
 with suspicion against Lady Level than anything he had 
 yet heard. 
 
 Returning to the sitting-room, pacing it to and fro in 
 his perplexity for he knew not how long, he was looking at 
 his watch to ascertain the time, when Lady Level came in. 
 She had been in Lord Level's sitting-room upstairs, she 
 said, the one opposite his bed-chamber. He was somewhat 
 calmer now. Mr. Ravensworth thought that he must now 
 be going. 
 
 " I have been of no assistance to you. Lady Level ; I do 
 not see that I can be of any," he observed. " But should 
 anything arise in which you think I can help you, send 
 for me." 
 
 " What do you expect to arise ? " she hastily inquiredi 
 
 " Nay, I expect nothing." 
 
 "Did Lord " Lady Level suddenly stopped and 
 
 turned her head. Just within the room stood two police- 
 men. She rose with a startled movement, and shrank close 
 to Mr. Ravensworth, crying out, as for protection. " Arnold ! 
 Arnold ! "
 
 MYSTERY. 159 
 
 " Do not agitate yourself," he wliispercd. " "What is it 
 that you waut ? " he demanded, moyiug towards the 
 men. 
 
 "We have come about this attack on Lord Level, sir," 
 replied one of them. 
 
 " Who sent for you ? " 
 - "Don't know anything about that, sir. Our superior 
 ordered us here, and is coming on himself. We must 
 examine the fastenings of this window, sir, by the lady's 
 leave." 
 
 They passed up the room, and Lady Level left it, followed 
 by Mr. Ravensworth. Outside stood Deborah, aghast. 
 
 " They have been in the kitchen this ten minutes, my 
 iady," she A\'hispered, " asking questions of us all — Mr. 
 Banders and Mrs. Timms and me and cook, all separate. 
 And now they are going round the house to search it, and 
 Bee to the fastenings." 
 
 The men came out again and moved away, Deborah 
 following slowly in their wake : she appeared to regard them 
 with somewhat of the curiosity we give to a wild animal : 
 but Mr. Raveusworth recalled her. Lady Level entered the 
 room again and sat down by the fire. Mr. Ravensworth 
 again observed that he must be going : he had barely time 
 to walk to the station and catch the train. 
 
 " Arnold, if you go, and leave me with these men in the 
 house, I will never forgive it ! " she passionately uttered. 
 
 He looked at her in surprise. " I thought you wished 
 for the presence of the police. You said you should regard 
 them as a protection." 
 
 " Did ijou send for them ? " she breathlessly exclaimed. 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 She sank into a reverie-— a deep, unpleasant reverie that 
 bompressed her lips and contracted her brow. Suddenly 
 she lifted her head.
 
 160 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " He is my husband, after all, Arnold." 
 
 " To be sure he is." 
 
 " And therefore — and therefore — there had better be no 
 investigation." 
 
 "Why?" asked Mr. Raveusworth, scarcely above his 
 breath. 
 
 " Because he does not wish it," she answered, bending 
 her face downwards. " He forbade me to call in aid, or to 
 suffer it to be called in ; and, as I say, he is my husband. 
 Will you stop those men in their search ? will you send 
 them away ? " 
 " " I do not think I have power to do so." 
 
 " You can forbid them in Lord Level's name. I give you 
 full authority : as he would do, wore he capable of acting. 
 ArnoM, I will have them out of the house. I tciliy 
 
 " What is it that you fear from them ? " 
 
 " I fear — I cannot tell you what I fear. They might 
 question me." 
 
 " And if they did ?— you can only repeat to them what 
 you told me." 
 
 " No, it must not be," she shivered. " I — I— dare not 
 let it bo." 
 
 Mr. Ravensworth paused. " Blanche," he said, in low 
 tones, " have you told me all ? " 
 
 " Perhaps not," she slowly answered. 
 
 " ' Perhaps ! ' " 
 
 " There ! " she exclaimed, springing up in wild excite- 
 nient. " I hear tho3C men upstairs, and you stand here 
 idly talking ! Order them away in Lord Level's name." 
 
 Desperately perplexed, Mr. Ravensworth flew to the stairs. 
 The steward, pale and agitated, met him half-way up. " It 
 must not be looked into by the police," he whispered. " Sir, 
 it must not. Will you speak to them ? you may have more 
 weight with them than L Say you are a friend of my
 
 INirSTERY. IGi 
 
 IbrcVri. I strongly suspect this is tlie work of that meddling 
 Macferraty." 
 
 Arnold Ravensworth moved forward as one in a dream, 
 an under-current of thought asking what all this mystery 
 meant. The steward followed. They found the men in 
 one of the first rooms : not engaged in the examination of 
 its fastenings or its closets (and the Avhole house abounded 
 in closets and cupboards), but with their heads together, 
 talking in whispers. 
 
 In answer to Mr. Ravensworth's peremptory demand, 
 made in Lord Level's name, that the search should cease 
 and the house be freed of their presence, they civilly replied 
 that they must not leave, but would wiUingly retire to the 
 kitchen and there await their superior officer, who was on 
 his road to the house : and they went down accordingly. 
 ]\Ir. Ravensworth returned to the sitting-room to acquaint 
 Lady Level with the fact, but found she had disappeared. 
 In a moment she came in, frightened, her hands lifted in 
 dismay, her breath coming in gasps. 
 
 " Give me air ! " she cried, rushing to the window and 
 motioning to have it opened. " I shall faint ; I shall die ! " 
 
 *' Whatever is the matter ? " questioned Mr. Ravensworth, 
 as he succeeded in undoing tlie bolt of the window, and 
 throwing up its middle compartment. At that moment a 
 loud ring came to the outer gate. It increased her terror, 
 and she broke into a flood of tears. 
 
 "My dear young lady, let me be your friend," he said in 
 bis grave concern. "Tell me the whole truth. I know 
 you have not done so yet. Let it be what it will, I promise 
 to — if possible — shield you from harm." 
 
 " Those men are saying in the kitchen that it was I who 
 attacked Lord Level ; I overheard them," she shuddered, 
 the words coming from her brokenly in her agitation. 
 
 " Make a friend of me ; you shall never have a truer,'*
 
 1(52 l^HE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGLE. 
 
 he continued, for really he knew not what else to urge, and 
 he could not work in the dark. " Tell me all from beginning 
 to end." 
 
 But she only shivered in silence. 
 
 " Blanche ! — did — you — do — it ? " 
 
 '* Xo," she answered, with a low hurst of heartrending 
 sobs, " But I saw it done I " 
 
 \
 
 ( 163 ) 
 
 CHAPTER Xlii. 
 
 SUSPICIOX. 
 
 The church-clock of that small country place, Upper 
 Marshdale, was chiming half-past nine on a dark night, as 
 the local inspector turned out of the pohce-station and 
 made his way with a fleet step across a piece of waste land 
 and some solitary fields beyond it. His name was Poole, 
 and he was hastening to Marshdale House, as Lord Level's 
 place was called. A mysterious occurrence had taken place 
 there the night before : Lord Level, previously an invalid, 
 had been stabbed in his bed. 
 
 The officer rang a loud peal at the outer gate, and a 
 policeman, who had been already sent on, came from the 
 house to answer the summons. He waited when they were 
 both within the gate, knowing that he should be questioned. 
 His superior walked half-way up the avenue, and placed 
 his back against a tree. 
 
 " What have you learnt, Jekyl ? Any clue to the 
 assassin ? " 
 
 The policeman dropped his voice to a whisper, as though 
 afraid the very trees might hear. " Speak up," sharply 
 interrupted the inspector. *' The air carries no tales." 
 
 "The case seems as clear, sir, as any we ever came 
 across ; a clear case against Lady Level." 
 
 It takes a great deal to astonish a police inspector, but 
 this announcement certainly astonished Mr. Inspector Poole. 
 '" Against Lady Level ? " he repeated.
 
 16i THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " She's the guilty one, sir, I fear. But who'd thiuk it, 
 to see her ? Only about twenty or so, and with beauty 
 enough to knock you over, and blue eyes that loot you 
 down in their pride. She's dressed out like those high- 
 born ladies do dress, in light silk that glistens as she 
 walks, her neck and arms uncovered. There's a gentle- 
 man with her now, some friend of the family, and he 
 ■won't let us go on with our investigation. He came and 
 stopped it, and said we were acting against Lord Level's 
 wishes." 
 
 " But why do you suspect Lady Level ? " inquired the 
 inspector. 
 
 " Listen, sir. It appears certain that no one got in ; 
 the doors and windows were left safe, and were found so ; 
 hadn't been disturbed at all ; there has been no robbery, or 
 anything of that sort, and no suspicion attaches to any of 
 the servants so far as I see. Then there are the facts them- 
 selves. The servants were aroused in the middle of the 
 night by Lord Level's bell ringing violently, and my lady 
 screaming. When tliey got to his room, there he lay, fainted 
 dead off, stabbed in two places, and she pretty nearly 
 fainting too, and dropped down in a chair in her silk 
 
 dressing-gown " 
 
 " I am acquainted with the facts so far, Jekyl." 
 " Well, sir. "Not a sign or symptom was there of any- 
 body else being about, or of anybody's having been about. 
 Her ladyship's version is, that she was woke up by Lord 
 Level calling to her, and she found him stabbed and 
 bleeding. That is all she will confess to." 
 " And he ? " 
 
 "lie says nothing, I hear, except that he will not have the 
 police called in. He did not even want to have a doctor. 
 But his lordship is off his head with fever, and may not 
 know what he is saying."
 
 BUSPICION. 165 
 
 *' How docs Lady Level nccount for the knife being 
 found in her room ? " 
 
 " There it is ! " cried the man. " "Whenever these people, 
 let them be high or low, do an evil deed, they are certain 
 to commit some act of folly which allows suspicion to creep 
 in. They over-do it, or they underdo it. If any one else 
 had done it and carried the weapon to her ladyship's room, 
 she must have seen who it was, and would surely have 
 denounced him. And why did sJie put it there of nil 
 places ? There's a fatality on them, I say, sir, and tliey 
 can't escape it." 
 
 " But her motive for attacking him ? " 
 
 " They were on bad terms, it seems. The servants heard 
 them quarrelling violently earlier in the evening." 
 
 "Did the servants tell you this, to confirm their sus- 
 picions against her ? " 
 
 " They don't suspect her, sir," replied Jekyl. " I and 
 Cliff have drawn our own deductions by what they have 
 said, and by personal observation." 
 
 The inspector mused. He was a kindly-disposed man, 
 possessed his share of common sense, and did not feel so 
 sure about the matter as his subordinate. " It appeal's 
 scarcely credible that a young woman like Lady Level, 
 hardly six mouths married, should attempt her husband's 
 life, Jekyl. Where are these servants ? " 
 
 " In the kitchen, sir. This way. There's no establish- 
 ment to speak of. When my lord was detained here 
 through damage to his knee, my lady followed him down — 
 against his will, it's whispered — and brought only her maid 
 and a man-servant." 
 
 " I think you have been listening to a good deal of 
 gossip," remarked Inspector Poole, as he moved on to the 
 house. 
 
 Meanwhile Lady Level, in deep agitation, stood at the
 
 166 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 window which she had had thrown up for air, while she 
 made the confession to Mr. Ravensworth that she had been 
 a witness to the attack on her hnsband. This she had 
 denied before : and it might never have been wrnng from 
 her, but that she overheard the two policemen, already in 
 the house, whispering their suspicions against her. 
 
 She was shocked, indignant, terrified. She leaned for 
 support on the window-frame, panting for breath in the 
 cold night air. 
 
 " Arnold, am I to bear this ? " 
 
 He stood with folded arms. He felt for her deeply : 
 were she connected with him by near ties of blood, he 
 could not have been more anxious to protect her ; but a 
 strong doubt that she might be guilty was working within 
 him. He supposed she must have received some great 
 provocation from Lord Level. 
 
 " How cruel they are to entertain such a suspicion ! If 
 
 they — if they Oh, Arnold, they never will arrest me ! 
 
 — they never will publicly accuse me ! " she uttered, as a 
 new possibility occurred to her. 
 
 " Blanche, listen," he rejoined, talking to her as he had 
 talked when she was a child. " All that can be done for 
 you, I will do ; but I cannot work in this uncertainty. 
 Tell me the truth ; be it good or be it ill, I will stand by 
 you ; but, if I am to be of service to you, I must know it, 
 Was it you who struck Lord Level ? " 
 " No. Have I not just told you so ? " 
 *' What you told mc I do not understand. You say you 
 
 saw it done " 
 
 " Then I did not sec it done," she petulantly interrupted ; 
 and no more questions would she answer. 
 
 " Let me take you back to the fire," said Mr. Ravens- 
 worth, as he shut down the window. " You arc trembling 
 with cold."
 
 SUSPICIOIT. 1G7 
 
 " Xot ^Yit]J cold," was lier reply. 
 
 Stirring the fire into a blaze, he drew the easy-chair near 
 ft for her. He then stood hj, saying nothing. 
 
 "Suppose they should openly accuse me?" she began, 
 after a silence. " Would they arrest me ? " 
 
 " Blanche," he retorted, in sharp, ringing, imperative 
 accents, " are you guilty ? Tell me, one way or the other, 
 that I may know what to be at." 
 
 Lady Level rose and confronted him, her blue eyes 
 wearing their most haughty expression. " You have known 
 me for many years, known me well ; how, then, can you 
 repeat that question ? / guilty of attacking Lord Level ! " 
 
 " I would rather believe myself — I could as soon believe 
 my own wife guilty of such a thing ; but why have you 
 equivocated with me ? You have not told me the truth, 
 as to what passed that night." 
 
 " My husband charged me not to tell any one." 
 
 " Five minutes ago you told me yourself that you saw it 
 done ; now you say you did not see it. "What am I to 
 think ? " 
 
 " In saying I saw it done, I spoke hastily ; what I ought 
 to have said was, that I saw who did it. And then, to-day. 
 Lord Level insisted that 1 had been dreaming," she 
 abstractedly continued. " Arnold, do you believe that we 
 can see visions or dream dreams • that afterwards wear tho 
 semblance of realities ? " 
 
 " I wish you would not speak in riddles. The time is 
 going on ; those men of the law may come in and accuse 
 you, and what defence am I to make for you ? You know 
 that you may trust me. "What you say shall never pass 
 my lips." 
 
 Lady Level deliberated. " I will trust you," she said at 
 length : " there seems to be no help for it. I went to rest 
 last night angry with Lord Level, for we had spoken
 
 1G8 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 irritating words to each other. I lay awake, I dare say for 
 an hour, indulging bitter thoughts, and then I dropped 
 asleep. Suddenly something woke me ; I cannot tell you 
 what it was : whether it was any noise, or whether it was 
 the opening of the door, which I had closed, between my 
 room and Lord Level's. All I know is, that door was wide 
 open, and some one stood in the doorway with a lighted 
 candle. It was a strange-looking object, and seemed to be 
 dressed in flannel — either a long flannel shirt or a flannel 
 gown. In the confusion of the moment I believed it must 
 be Lord Level, and I was struck with amazement, for Lord 
 Level is not able to get out of bed without assistance, from 
 the injury to his knee, and I thought how long his hair 
 was, and how dark it had grown — that was, you know, when 
 I was between sleeping and waking. Then I saw it had 
 large, flashing black eyes, so it could not be Lord Level. 
 
 It crossed the room " 
 
 <' Blanche," he interrupted, "you speak just as if you 
 
 were describing a vision. It " 
 
 " That is what Lord Level now says" it was. Let me 
 go on. It crossed the room as far as the dressing-table. 
 I started up in bed then, and the wild eyes turned upon 
 me, and at the same moment Lord Level called out from 
 his own bed, apparently in agitation or pain. The figure 
 dropped something, turned round, and darted back again 
 through the open door to the other chamber. I saw the 
 candle fall from its hand to 4he floor, and the place was in 
 darkness, except for the little light that came from Lord 
 Level's night-lamp. Terror overwhelmed me, and I cried 
 out, and then my husband called to me by name. I ran to 
 his room, flinging on my warm silk dressing-gown as I 
 went, and there I found him hurt in some way, for he was 
 bleeding from the arm and from the side. Arnold, as I 
 live, as I breathe, that is the whole trut|i," she concluded 
 "with emotion.
 
 SUSPICION. 109 
 
 " Did yon again see the figure ? Was it in Lord Level's 
 room ? " 
 
 " It was not there. I saw no trace of it. I remember 
 I picked up the candlestick, for it was right in my path, 
 and I screamed when I saw the blood upon my husband. 
 He caught me to him by the other arm, as I have told you, 
 telling me not to be frightened, that he would protect me ; 
 and I saw how white he looked, and that his brow was 
 damp. Presently I asked him who and what it was ; and 
 the question seemed to excite him. ' Say nothing of what 
 you have seen,' he cried ; 'I charge you, notJting.'' I don't 
 quite know what I replied ; it was to the effect that the 
 household must be aroused, and the figure searched for. 
 ' Blanche, you are my wife,' he said solemnly ; ' my interests 
 are yours ; I charge you, by your duty and obedience to 
 me, that you say nothing. Bury this in silence, as you 
 value your life and mine.' Then he fainted and his hold 
 relaxed, and I screamed out and the servants came. Had 
 my life de|)ended upon it I could not have helped screaming. 
 TVhat the figure had dropped in my room proved to be the 
 knife." 
 
 " This is a very strange account ! " exclaimed Mr. 
 Eavensworth, 
 
 " It was so strange that I lose myself at times, wondering 
 whether I was dreaming or awake. But it was true ; it 
 was true ; though I could not proclaim it in defiance of my 
 husband." 
 
 " Do you think the figure, as you call it, could have been 
 one of the servants in disguise ? " 
 
 " I am certain it was not. Not one of them has that 
 dark Italian face." 
 
 " Italian face ! " echoed Mr. Eavensworth. " Why do 
 you call it an Italian face ? " 
 
 Lady Level bent her head. " The thought somehow
 
 170 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 struck me," she answered, after a pause. ■' Not at tlie 
 time, but since. I fancied it not unlike the Italian f^ceg 
 that one sees in pictures." 
 
 <' AVas it a man ox a woman ? " 
 
 " I do not know, At the time I took it to be a man, 
 quite young. But since, recalling the appearance — well, 
 jt seems to me that it is impossible to decide which it 
 was." 
 
 "And you saw no signs of this mysterious figure 
 afterwards ? " 
 
 "None whatever. There were no traces, I tell you, of 
 its having been there, except the injury to Lord Level, the 
 knife, and the fallen candlestick. The candlestick may 
 have been left in Lord Level's room the previous night, for 
 it is 'precisely like those used in the household, so that the 
 figure may have lighted it from the night-lamp." 
 
 Mr. Eavensworth could not make much of all this. It 
 puzzled him. "The curious thing is," he said aloud, 
 " where could the fio;ure have come from ? " 
 
 " The curious thing is, that Lord Level wants to persuade 
 me now that this was only a dream of the imagination," 
 
 " That his wounds arc ? " 
 
 " Not his wounds, of course— or the knife, but a great 
 deal of what I told him. He ridicules the bare idea of its 
 being a ' strange figure,' ' strangely dressed.' He says he 
 caught a full view of the man who attacked him ; that he 
 should know him again ; that he was dressed in a sort of 
 Boft light fustian, and was no more wild-looking than I am, 
 except such wildncss as arose from bis state of inebriation, 
 and he suspects he was a poacher who must have got in 
 through one of the windows." 
 
 Mr. Eavensworth pondered over the tale : and he could 
 not help deeming it a most improbable one. But that 
 traces of some mysterious presence had been left behind, hq
 
 SUSPICION. 171 
 
 would have regarded it as her husband appeared partially to 
 regard it — a midnight freak of Lady Level's imagination. 
 "Yet the wounds are realities," said Mr. Ravensworth, 
 speaking aloud, in answer to his own thoughts. 
 
 "Arnold, it is all a reality," she said impressively. 
 " There are moments, I say, when I am almost tempted to 
 question it, but in my sober reason I know it to have been 
 true ; and while I ask myself, ' AVas it a dream ? ' I hold a 
 perfect, positive conviction that it was only too terrible a 
 reality." 
 
 " You have spoken once or twice of its wild appearance. 
 Did it look like a madman ? " 
 
 " I never saw a madman, that I know of. This creature 
 looked wild enough to be mad. There was one thing I 
 thought curious in connection with finding the knife," 
 proceeded Lady Level. " Timms, who picked it up, while 
 Sanders had gone down for some hot water, brought it into 
 Lord Level's room, calling out that she had found the 
 weapon. ' Why, that's Mr. Drewitt's knife ! ' exclaimed the 
 housemaid, Deborah, as soon as she saw it ; and the steward, 
 who had only just reached the room, asked her how she 
 could make the assertion. ' It is yours, sir,' said Deborah ; 
 ' it's your new knife ; I have seen it on your table, and 
 should know it anywhere.' ' Deborah, if you repeat that 
 again, I'll have you punished,' sharply called out the house- 
 keeper, without, you understand, turning from Lord Level, 
 to whom she was attending, to ascertain whether it was or 
 was not the knife. Now, Arnold," added Lady Level, " ill 
 and terrified as I felt at the moment, a conviction came 
 across me that it was Mr. Drewitt's knife, l;>ut that he and 
 Mrs. Edwards were purposely denying it." 
 
 " It is impossible to suspect them of attacking, or con- 
 niving at the attack on Lord Level." 
 
 " They attack Lord Level ! They would rather attack
 
 172 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 the whole world combined, than that a hair of his head 
 should suffer. They are fondly, devotedly attached to him. 
 And Deborah, it appears, has been convinced out of her 
 assertion. Hark ! who is that ? " 
 
 Mr. Ravensworth opened the door to reconnoitre. The 
 inspector was prowlino; about the house and passages, ex- 
 ploring the outlets and inlets, followed by his two men, who 
 had done the same before him. 
 
 " I thought you had forbidden the men to search," cried 
 Lady Level. " Why are they disobeying you ? " 
 
 " Their chief is here now, and of course his orders go 
 before mine. Besides, after what you have told me, I con- 
 sider there ought to be a thorough search," added Mr. 
 Ravensworth. 
 
 " In opposition to Lord Level ? " 
 
 " I think that Lord Level has not taken a sufficiently 
 serious view of the case. The only solution I can come to 
 is, that some escaped madman got into the house before it 
 was closed for the night, and concealed himself in it. If 
 so, he may be in it now." 
 
 " Now ! In it now ! " she exclaimed, turning pale. 
 
 " Upon my word, I think it may be so. The doors and 
 windows were all found safely fastened, you see. Therefore 
 he could not escape during the night. And since the doors 
 were opened this morning, the household, 1 take it, has 
 been so constantly on the alert, that it might be an ex- 
 tremely difficult matter for him to get away unseen. If he, 
 this madman, did enter yesterday evening, he must have 
 found some place of concealment and hidden himself in it 
 for hours, since it was not until one o'clock that he made 
 the attack on Lord Level." 
 
 " Oh, Arnold, that is all too improbable," she rejoined 
 doubtingly. "A madman could not plan and do all that." 
 
 " Madmen are more cunni-ng than sane ones, sometimes."
 
 SUSPICION. 1?3 
 
 "Bub I — I thiuk it was a woman," said Lady Level, 
 lowering lier voice and her eyes. 
 
 Mr. Ravcnsworth looked at her. And for the first time, 
 a feeling flashed into his mind that Lady Level had some 
 suspicion which she would not speak of. 
 
 " Blanche," he said sharply, " do you know who it was ? 
 Tell me, if you do." 
 
 " I do not," she answered emphatically. " I may imagine 
 this and imagine that, but I do not know anything." 
 
 " You are speaking, then, from imagination ? " 
 
 " Y — cs. In a case of mystery, such as this, imagination 
 runs riot, and you can't prevent its doing so." 
 
 Again there was something about Lady Level that struck 
 Mr. Ravensworth as being not honestly true. Before more 
 could be said, steps were heard approaching the room ; and 
 Lady Level, afraid to meet the police, made her escape 
 from it. 
 
 Running swiftly upstairs, she was passing Lord Level's 
 door to enter her own, when she heard his voice, speaking 
 collectedly, and peeped in. He saw her, and held out his 
 hand. He appeared now quite rational, though his fine gray 
 eyes were gUstening and his fair face was flushed. Mrs. 
 Edwards was standing by the bedside, and it was to her he 
 had been talking. 
 
 Blanche advanced timidly. " Are you feeling better ? " 
 she softly asked. 
 
 " Oh, much better ; nearly well ; but for my knee I 
 should be up and about," he answered, as he drew her 
 towards him. " Mrs. Edwards, will you close the door_? 
 I wish to speak with my wife." 
 
 Mrs. Edwards, with a warning glance at her lady, Avhich 
 seemed to say, " He is not fit for it " — at least Blanche so 
 interpreted it — went out and shut the door. Lord Level 
 drew her closer to his side. He was lying propped up by
 
 174 THE STORY 01** CfiARLES STRANGE. 
 
 a mound of pillows, almost sitting up in bed, and kept her 
 standing there. 
 
 "Blanche," he began in very quiet tones, "I hear the 
 police are in the house." 
 
 " Yes," she was obliged to answer, quite taken aback 
 and feehng very much vexed that he had been told, as it 
 was likely to excite him. 
 
 " Who sent for them ? You ? " 
 
 « Oh no." 
 
 " Then it was your friend ; that fellow Ravensworth. I 
 thought as much." 
 
 " But indeed it was not," she eagerly answered, shrinking 
 from her husband's scornful tones. " AYhen the two police- 
 men came in — and we do not know who it was sent them — 
 Mr. Ravensworth went to them by my desire to stop the 
 search. I told him that you objected to it." 
 
 " Objected to it ! I forbade it," haughtily rejoined Lord 
 Level. "And if— if " 
 
 " Oh, pray, Archibald, do not excite yourself ; do not, do 
 not ! " she interrupted, frightened and anxious. " You 
 know you will become worse again if you do." 
 
 " "Will you go and end it in my name ? End it, and send 
 them away from the house." 
 
 " Yes, if you tell mc to do so ; if you insist upon it," she 
 answered. " But I am afraid." 
 
 " Why are you afraid ? " 
 
 Lady Level bent her head until it was on a level with 
 his. " For this, Archibald," she whispered : " that they 
 might question me — and 1 should be obliged to answer 
 them." 
 
 Lord Level gently drew her cool cheek nearer, that it 
 might rest against his fevered one, and remained silent, 
 apparently pondering the question. 
 
 " After I told you all that I saw that uiglit, you bade
 
 SUSPICION. ifS 
 
 ine be silent," she resumed. " Well, I fear the police might 
 draw it from me if they qiiestioued me." 
 
 " But you must not allow them to draw it from you." 
 
 " Oh, but perhaps I could not help it," she sighed. 
 " Ydu know what the police are — how they question and 
 cross- question people." 
 
 " Blanche, I reminded you last night that you were my 
 wife, and you owed me implicit obedience in all great 
 things." 
 
 " Yes, and I am trying to obey you ; I am indeed, 
 Archibald," she protested, almost torn by conflicting 
 emotions ; for, in spite of her doubts and suspicions, and 
 (as she put it to herself) her " wrongs," she loved her 
 husband yet. 
 
 " Well, my dear, you must be brave for my sake ; ay, 
 and for your own. Listen, Blanche : you will tell the police 
 nothing; and ihaj must not search the house. I don't care 
 to see them myself to forbid it ; I don't want to see them. 
 For one thing, I am hardly strong enough to support the 
 excitement it would cause me. But " 
 
 " Will you tell me something, Archibald ? " she whispered. 
 " Is the — the — person — that attacked you in the house 
 now ? " 
 
 Lord Level looked surprised. "In this house ? Why, 
 how could it be ? Certainly not." 
 
 " Was it — was it a woman ? " she breathed, her voice low 
 and tremulous 
 
 He turned angry. " How can you be so silly, Blanche ? 
 A woman ! Oh yes," changing to sarcasm, " of course it 
 was a woman. It was you, perhaps." 
 
 " That is what they are saying, Archibald." 
 
 " What are they saying ? " he retm-ned, in dangerous 
 excitement— if Blanche had only noticed the signs. For all 
 this was agitating him.
 
 in TUE STORY OF CHABLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Why, that," she answered, bursting into tears. " Tlld 
 police are saying so. They are saying that it was I who 
 stabbed you." 
 
 Lord Level cried out as a man in agony. And, with 
 that, delirium came on again.
 
 ( 177 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 NOT LIFTED. 
 
 My Lady Lsvel sat at the open window of her husband's 
 sitting-room, in the dark, her hot face lifted to the cool 
 uight air. Only a moment ago Lord Level had been calling 
 out in his delirium, and Mrs. Edwards was putting cool 
 appliances to his head, and damp, hot bricks to his feet. 
 And Blanche knew that it was she who, by her indiscreet 
 remarks and questioning, had brought on the crisis. She 
 liad not meant to harm or excite him ; but she had done 
 it ; and she was very contrite. 
 
 It was now between ten and eleven o'clock. She did 
 not intend to go to bed that night ; and she had already 
 slipped off her evening dress, and put on a morning one of 
 soft gray cashmere. With his lordship in a fresh attack 
 of fever, and the police about, the household did not tliiuk 
 of going to rest. 
 
 Blanche Level sat in a miserable reverie, her lovely face 
 pressed upon her slender hand, the tears standing in her 
 blue eyes. She was suspecting her husband of all kinds of 
 unorthodox things— this has been said before. Not the 
 least disloyal of them being that an individual named Nina, 
 who wore long gold earrings to enhance her charms, was 
 concealed in that East Wing, which might almost be called 
 a separate house, and which owned a separate entrance. 
 
 And a conviction lay upon Lady Level — caught up since, 
 
 N
 
 178 THE STOTIY OF CII APPLES STRANGE. 
 
 not at the time — that it was this Nina who had attacked 
 Lord Level. She could not drive away the impression. 
 
 Naturally she was bitterly resentful. Not at the attack, 
 but at all the rest of it. She had said nothing yet to her 
 husband, and she did not know Avhether she ever should 
 say it ; for even to speak upon such a topic reflected on 
 herself a shame that stung her. Of course he forbade the 
 search lest this visitor should be discovered, reasoned she ; 
 that is, he told her to forbid it : but ought she to obey 
 him ? Lady Level, cowering there in the darkness, would 
 have served as a perfect exemplification of a small portion 
 of Collins's " Ode to the Passions." 
 
 " Tliy numbers, Jealousy, to uanglit were fixed, 
 Sad proof of thy distressful state ; 
 Of differiug themes the veering song was mixed, 
 And now it courted love, now raving, called on hate." 
 
 Thus was it here. One moment she felt that she could— 
 and should — put Lord Level away from her for his falsity, 
 his treachery ; the next she was conscious that life without 
 him would be one long and bitter penance, for she had 
 learned to love him with her whole heart and soul. 
 
 And until that miserable sojourn at Pisa, she had deemed 
 that he returned her love, truly and passionately. Fie on 
 the deceitful wiles of man ! 
 
 A stir in the passage without. Was there any change iu 
 Lord Level, for better or for worse ? Despite her resent- 
 ment, she was anxious, and she opened the door. ]Mrs. 
 Edwards had come out from the opposite chamber, a basiu 
 in hand. 
 
 "My lady, he is calmer," whispered the housekeeper, 
 answering the unspoken question which she read in her 
 eyes. " If he could only be kept so, if he had nothing to 
 disturb him, he would soon be well again. It is a most
 
 NOT LIFTED. 179 
 
 uiiluclcy thing' that these poHce should have come here, 
 where they are nob wanted. That of itself must bring- 
 excitement to his lordship." 
 
 " It is unlucky that these tales should have been carried 
 to him," haughtily reproved the young lady. " I cannot 
 think who does it, or why it is done." 
 
 " Nay, my lady, but when his lordship questions of this 
 and that, he must be answered." 
 
 Closing the door of the sick-chamber very quietly, Mrs, 
 Edwards passed down the stairs. At the same moment, 
 covert steps were heard ascending them. Lady Level 
 caught a glimpse of Mr. Inspector Poole's head, and stolo 
 back out of sight. 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Ravensworth had been trying to gain a 
 little explanation from that official. " Do you know," he 
 said to him, " that you are here against Lord Le^'el's wishes, 
 and in direct opposition to his orders ? " 
 
 "No, I do not," replied' the inspector. "I did not 
 understand it in that light, I certainly was told that his 
 lordship had said he would not have the case officially 
 inquired into, but I understood that he was light-headed 
 when he spoke, not at all conscious of what he was saying." 
 
 "From whom, then, did you receive your instructions, 
 Mr. Poole 'i " 
 
 " From Dr. Macferraty," was the ready answer. " lie 
 called in at the station this evening." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Arnold Ravensworth. 
 
 " It would be a grave mistake, he said, if so monstrous a 
 thing — they were the doctor's own words — should be left 
 uninvestigated, because his lordship was off his head," 
 added the inspector. "May I ask, sir, if you entertain 
 any suspicion — in any quarter ? " 
 
 " Not any," decisively replied Mr. Ravensworth. " The 
 whole thing is to me most mysterious."
 
 180 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 The speakers looked at one another. Mr. Poole was 
 deliberating whether he should give a hint of what Jekyl 
 had said about Lady Level. But he was saved the trouble. 
 
 " I understand, through overhearing a word or two, that 
 your men have been wondering whether the culprit could 
 have been Lady Level," spoke Mr. Eavensworth, in low 
 tones. " The very idea is monstrous : you have but now 
 used the right word. Believe me, she is as innocent as a 
 child. But she is most terribly frightened." 
 
 "Well, I thought it very unlikely," adaiitted the in- 
 spector. 
 
 "But it seems," slowly continued Mr. Eavensworth, 
 weighing well his words, " that she caught sight at the time, 
 or thought she caught sight, of a figure curiously attired in 
 white flannel, who dropped, or flung, the knife down in her 
 chamber. Lord Level says it was not white flannel, but 
 light fustian, such as a countryman might wear. According 
 to that, he must also have seen the individual. The 
 difficulty, however, is to know whether Lord Level is 
 speaking in his senses or out of them." 
 
 "Some one must have got in, then, after all ; in spite of 
 the doors being found as they were left." 
 
 " I think so. I cannot see any other loophole for 
 suspicion to fall back upon. Concealed himself in the 
 house probably beforehand. And, for all we know, may 
 be concealed in it still. I gathered an impression while 
 Lady Level was talking to me that it might really be some 
 escaped madman. All the same. Lord Level persists in 
 forbidding the matter to be investigated." 
 
 Keen and practical, the oflicer revolved what he heard. 
 The story was a curious one altogether, and as yet he did 
 not see his way in it. 
 
 " I think, sir," he said with deliberation, " that I shall 
 take the affair into my own hands, and act, in the uncertain
 
 KOT LIFTED. 18L 
 
 state of his lordship's mind, upon my own responsibility. 
 First of all, we will just go throiio-h the house." 
 
 Mr. Ravensworth wont with him : they two together. 
 After a thorough search, nothing wrong cou\l they find or 
 discover. The servants and the two policemen remained 
 below ; Mrs. Edwards was in close attendance upon Lord 
 Level ; and the steward, who appeared most exceedingly to 
 resent the presence of these police in the house, had shut 
 himself into his rooms. 
 
 In the course of time, the inspector and Mr. Ravens- 
 worth approached these rooms. Passing Lord Level's 
 chamber with soft footsteps, they traversed the passages 
 beyond it, until they found themselves stopped by a door, 
 which was fastened. 
 
 Mr. Poole shook it. " It must lead to some of the 
 remote rooms," he observed, " and they are uninhabited. 
 Just the spot for an assassin to conceal himself in — or to 
 try to do so." 
 
 " I think these may be the steward's apartments," spoke 
 Arnold Ravensworth, doubtingly. " I remember Lady 
 Level said they were only divided from Lord Level's 
 chamber by a passage or two." 
 
 Whose ever rooms they were, no one came to the door 
 in answer to the summons, and the inspector knocked again. 
 
 This time it brought forth Mr. Drcwitt. They heard 
 him draw a chain, and then he opened the door a few 
 inches, as far as the chain permitted him. 
 
 " Will you let us in, Mr. DrcAvitt ? I must search these 
 rooms." 
 
 " Search for what ? " asked the old man. " It's you, is 
 it, Poole ! I cannot have my rooms searched. This 
 morning, after the alarm, I w'ent over them, to be quite 
 sure, and that's sufficient.'' 
 
 " Allow me to search for myself," returned the officer.
 
 182 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " No, sir," answered the steward, with dignity. " Xo 
 one shall come in to search these rooms in opposition to 
 the wish of my lord. Ilis orders to me were that the affair 
 should be allowed to drop, and I for one will not disohey 
 him, or give help to those who would. His lordship 
 believed that whoever it might be that attacked him came 
 in and went out again. The country might be hunted 
 over, he said, but not this house." 
 
 " I must enter here," was all the answer reiterated by 
 the officer. 
 
 " It shall be over my body, then," returned the steward, 
 with emotion. " My lord forbade a search, and you have 
 no right whatever to proceed with it." 
 
 " My good man, I am a police inspector." 
 
 " You may be inspector-general for all I care," retorted 
 the old gentleman, " but you don't come in here. Get my 
 lord's authority first, and then you will be welcome. "As 
 to reminding me who you are, Mr. Poole, you must know 
 that to be superfluous. And I beg your pardon, sir," he 
 added, addressing Mr. Ravenswortb, " but I would inquire 
 what authority you hold from my lord, that you, a stranger, 
 shonld set at naught his expressed wishes ? " 
 
 The door was shut and bolted in their faces, and the 
 inspector leaned against the wall in thought. " Did you 
 notice his agitation ? " he whispered to Mr. Eaveusworth. 
 "There's more in this than meets the eye." 
 
 It certainly Avore that appearance. However, for the 
 present they were foiled, and the steward remained master 
 of the position. To attempt to enter those rooms by force 
 would create noise and commotion iu the house that might 
 be disastrous to the health of Lord Level. 
 
 " There's something in those rooms that has to be con- 
 cealed," spoke the astute inspector. '• If it be the man wlio 
 attaclccd Lord Level "
 
 KOT LIFTED. 183 
 
 " But the steward, devoted as lie is to his master, would 
 not harbour ///;;;," impulsively interrupted Arnold Kavens- 
 wortli. 
 
 "True. Unless — unless, mind you, there exists some 
 cause, which we cannot even guess at, for his lordship's 
 shielding him," said the inspector. " I must say I should 
 like to get into the rooms." 
 
 " There is no other way of doing it ; no other entrance." 
 
 " I don't know that, sir. Unless I am mistaken, these 
 rooms communicate direct with the East Wing. By getting 
 hilo that, we might find an unsuspected entrance." 
 
 He made his way downstairs in silence, musing as he 
 went. At the foot of the staircase he encountered 
 Deborah. 
 
 " Which are the passages in this lower part of the house 
 that lead to the East Wing ? " he inquired. 
 
 "Not any of them, sir," answered Deborah, promptly. 
 "At least, not any that are ever opened. At the end of 
 the stone passage there's a heavy door, barred and bolted, 
 that leads to other passages, I believe, and to other heavy 
 bolted doors, and they lead into the East Wing. That's 
 what I have heard say. The only entrance in use is the 
 one through Mr. Drewitt's rooms." 
 
 Opposition seemed only to strengthen the will of 'Mr. 
 Inspector Poole. " Into the rooms I mean to make my 
 way," he said to Mr. Eavensworth, as he retraced his steps 
 up the staircase. " Conld you not," he hastily added, 
 " get Lady Level to bring her authority to bear upon old 
 Drewitt ? " 
 
 It was the appearance of Lady Level that probably 
 induced the thought. She, looking pale, haggard and un- 
 easy, was peeping down at them, and did not escape in 
 time. 
 
 Arnold HaVensworth somewhat hesitatingly acceded.
 
 18i THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 They wished to speak to Mr. Drewitt— he put it to her Iq 
 that way — but he had bolted himself into his rooms ; would 
 she U3e her authority and bid him admit them ? 
 
 She complied at once, unsuspiciously. Of all parts of 
 the house, that occupied by the steward must be most free 
 from concealment. And she went with them to th3 
 baiTed-up door. 
 
 The steward did not presume to disput3 Lady Level's 
 mandate, which she gave somewhat imperiously. She 
 entered Avith them. They found themselves in the old 
 gentleman's sitting-room, and he placed chairs for them. 
 "AYe have not come to sit down," said Mr. Poole ; and he 
 passed into the other rooms in rapid succession : the two 
 bed-chambors and the unoccupied room that had nothing 
 in it but a few trunks. A very cursory inspection convinced 
 him that no person was being harboured there. 
 
 " Why could you not have admitted us just now, Mr. 
 Drewit!: ? " he asked. 
 
 " Because you brought not the authority of either my 
 lord or my lady," answered the faithful old retainer. 
 
 The inspector strode to the end of the passage and stood 
 before the oaken door already spoken of, examining its 
 h:avy fastenings. The others had followed him. 
 
 '• This must be the door communicating between the 
 house and the East \Ying," he remarked. '* Will you open 
 it, Mr. Brcwitt ? " 
 
 '' No, sir, I will not." 
 
 " But we nnist have it opened," interposed Arnold 
 liavensworth. " The fact is, we have some reason to fear 
 th3 midnight assassin may yet be hiding himself on the 
 premises. He does not appc^ar to be in the house, so he 
 may be in the East Wing — and we mean to search it." 
 
 " Arc you an enemy of my lord's ? " returned the old 
 man, greatly agitated.
 
 KOT LIFTED. 185 
 
 " Certainly not. I would rather ba his friend. I have 
 been the friend, if I may so express it, of Lady Level since 
 she was a child, and I must see that she is protected, her 
 husband hcln^ for the time laid aside." 
 
 "My lady," called out the old man, visibly trembling, 
 " I appeal to you, as my lord's second self, to forbid these 
 gentlemen from attempting to enter the East Wing," 
 
 " Be firm, Blanche," whispered Mr. Ravensworth, as she 
 came forward. " We must search the East Wing, and it 
 is for your sake." 
 
 She turned to the steward. " I am sure that they are 
 acting for the best. Open the door." 
 
 For one moment the old man hesitated, and then wrung 
 his hands. " That I should be forced to disobey the wife 
 of my lord ! My lady, I crave your pardon, but I will not 
 open these rooms unless I havo the express authority of his 
 lordship to do so." 
 
 " But I wish it done, Mr. Drewitt," she said, blushing 
 hotlv. 
 
 Police inspectors have generally the means of carrying 
 out their own will. Mr. Poole, after critically regarding 
 the fastenings, produced one or two small instruments from 
 his pockets and a bunch of keys. As he was putting one 
 of the keys into the lock for the purpose of trying whether 
 it would fit it, a curious revulsion came over I^ady Level. 
 Possibly the piteous, beseeching countenance of the steward 
 induced it. " He is my husband, after all," she whispered 
 to her own heart. 
 
 " Stop ! " she said aloud, pushing the key downwards. 
 " I may not have the right to sanction this in opposition 
 to the wish of Lord Level. He has forbidden any search 
 to be made, and I nnist do the same." 
 
 There was a moment's silence. The inspector gazed at 
 her.
 
 186 THE STORY OF CHAELES STRANGE. 
 
 " When his lordship shall be sufficiently recovered to see 
 yon, sir, you can take instructions from him if he sees well 
 to give them," she added to the officer civilly. " Until 
 then, I must act for him, and I forbid " 
 
 " Highty-tighty, and what's the matter here ? " broke in 
 a hearty voice behind them, at which they all turned in 
 surprise. Making his way along the passage was a portly, 
 but rather short man of sixty years, with an intellectual 
 brow and benevolent countenance, a red face and a bald 
 head. The change in Mr. Drewitt's look was remarkable ; 
 its piteousuess had changed to radiance. 
 
 The new-comer shook hands with him. Then he turned 
 and affably shook hands with the inspector, speaking gaily. 
 " You look as if you had the business of all the world on 
 your shoulders, Poole." 
 
 " Have you seen my lord, Mr. Hill ? " asked the steward. 
 
 " I got back home to-night and came on here at once, 
 hearing of the hubbub you are in, and I have seen my lord 
 for a few minutes. And this is my lady — and a very 
 charming lady I am sure she is," he added, bowing to Lady 
 Level with an irresistible smile. " Will she shake hands 
 with the old man who has been doctor-iu-ordinary to her 
 lord's family for ages and ages ? " 
 
 Blanche put her hand into his. She, as she was wont 
 sometimes to tell him in days to come, fell in love with him 
 at once, 
 
 " What a blessing that you are back again ! " murmured 
 the good old steward. 
 
 "Ay," assented Mi\ Hill, perhaps purposely misinter- 
 preting the remark: "wc will have Lord Level up and 
 about in no time now. — Mr. Poole, I want a private word 
 with you." 
 
 The doctor drew him into the steward's sitting-room, and 
 closed the door. The coufer«nce did not last more than
 
 NOT LIFTED. 187 
 
 a minute or two, but it was very effectual. For when ]\Ir. 
 Inspector Poole came forth, he aunouuced his decision of 
 withdrawing all search at present. To be resumed if neces- 
 sary, he added, when his lordship should have recovered 
 sufficiently to give his own orders. 
 
 The only one who did not appear to be altogether satis- 
 fied with this summary check was Arnold Eavensworth. 
 He did not understand it. Upon some remark being made 
 as to Lady Level's safety from any attack by the midnight 
 villain, ]\Ir. Hill at once told her lie would guarantee that. 
 And though he spoke with a laugh, as if making light of 
 the matter, there was an assurance in his eye and tone that 
 she might implicitly trust to. 
 
 " Then — as it seems I cannot be of any f urthur use to 
 you to-night, and as I may just catch the midnight up- 
 train, I will wish you good-bye, Lady Level," said Mr. 
 Eavensworth. " I am easy about you, now Mr. Hill is 
 here. But be sure to write for me if you think I can be of 
 service to you or to Lord Level." 
 
 " I will, I will," she answered. " Thank you, Arnold, 
 for coming." 
 
 Marshdale House returned to its ustlal monotony, and a 
 day or two went on. Nothing more was seen or heard of 
 the unknown individual who had so disturbed its peace \ 
 the very mention of it was avoided. Nevertheless, Blanche, 
 turning matters over in her mind, could only look at it 
 and at that detestable East Wino- with an increased sense of 
 mystery. " But for knowing that some one was there who 
 might not be disclosed to the honest light of day, why 
 should he have forbidden the search ? " ran the argument 
 that she was for ever holding with herseK ; and she steeled 
 her heart yet more against her husband. 
 
 On this, the second afternoon after the commotion, she
 
 188 TEE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 was sitting reading a newspaper in the garden, where the 
 sun was shining hotly, when Mr. Hill, who had been np 
 with Lord Level, appeared. 
 
 " ^Yell," said the doctor, cheerily, halting before her, " he 
 is a great deal better, and the knee's ever so much stronger. 
 I- shall have him up to-morrow. And in a couple of days 
 after that he may venture to travel to town, as he is so 
 anxious to get there." 
 
 '' Your treatment seems to agree with him better than 
 Dr. Macferraty's did," she answered. 
 
 " Ay : I know his constitution, you sec. Good-day, Lady 
 Level. I shall be in again to-night." 
 
 Soon after the doctor went out, there was heard a shrill 
 whistle at the gate, together with a kicking about of gravel 
 by a pair of rough boots. Lady Level looked up, and saw 
 th3 boy from the station bringing a parcel. 
 
 " Well, Sam," said she, as the lad approached. " What 
 have you come f or ? " 
 
 " They sent me on with this here parcel — and precious 
 heavy he is for his size," replied Sam Doughty, as without 
 ceremony he tumbled the parcel on to the bench by Lady 
 Level's side. It was addressed to her, and she knew that it 
 contained some books which Mr. Ravensworth had promised 
 to send down. " Come down by the mid-day train," curtly 
 added the boy for her information. 
 
 " Do you get paid for delivering parcels, Sam ? " 
 
 " Me get paid ! " returned the youth, with intense aggra- 
 vation ; " no such luck. Unless," added he, a happy 
 thought striking him, " anybody likes to give me something 
 for myself — knowing how weighty they be, and what a lug 
 it is for one's arms." 
 
 " This parcel is not at all heavy," said Lady Level. 
 
 "I'm sure he is, then, for his size. You should lift, 
 though, what I have to drag along sometimes. Why,
 
 NOT LIFTED. 189 
 
 jesterclay that ever was, I brought a parcel as big as a 
 house to the next door ; one tliat come from Lunnon by 
 the mid-day train just as this'u did ; and Mother Snow she 
 never gave me nothing but a jam tart, no bigger nor tlie 
 round o' your hand. She were taking a tray on 'em out 
 o' the oven." 
 
 " Jam tarts for lier delectation ! " was the thought that 
 flashed through Lady Level's mind. " Who was tbe parcel 
 for, Sam ? " she asked aloud. 
 
 " 'Twere directed to Mrs. Snow." 
 
 " Oh. Not to that lady who is staying there ? " 
 
 " Wliat lady be that ? " questioned Sam. 
 
 " The one you told me about. The lady with the long 
 gold earrings." 
 
 Sam's stolid countenance assumed a look of doubt, as 
 if he did not altogether understand. His eyes grew wider. 
 
 " That un ! Iler baiu't there now, her hain't. Her 
 didn't stop. Her went right away again the next day after 
 she come." 
 
 ''Dkl she?" exclaimed Lady Level, taken by surprise. 
 " Are you sure ? " 
 
 *' Ee I sure as that's a newspaper in your hand ? " re- 
 torted Sam. " In course I be sure. The fly were ordered 
 down here for her the next morning, and she come on to 
 the station in it, Mr. Snow a sitthig outside." 
 
 " She went back to London, then ? 
 
 "She went just t'other way," contradicted the boy. 
 "Eight on by the down-train. Dover her ticket were 
 took for." 
 
 Lady licvel fell into a passing reverie. All the con- 
 jectures she had been indulging in lately — whither had they 
 flown ? At that moment ]\Irs. Edwards, having seen the 
 boy from the house, came out to ask what he wanted. Sam 
 put on his best behaviour instantly. The respect he failed
 
 190 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRAKGE, 
 
 to show to the young lady was in full force before 'Mva. 
 Edwards. 
 
 " I come to bring this here parcel, please, ma'am, for 
 Lady Level," said he, touching his old cap. 
 
 " Oh, very well," said Mrs. Edwards. " I'll carry it in- 
 doors, my lady," she added, taking it up. " You need not 
 wait, Sam." 
 
 Lady Level slipped a sixpence into his ready hand, and 
 he went off contented. Mrs. Edwards carried away the 
 parcel. 
 
 Presently Lady Level followed, her mind busy as she went 
 upstairs. She was taking some contrition to herself. What 
 if — if it was all, or a great deal of it, only her imagination ? 
 ^that her husband was not the disloyal man she had deemed 
 him ? 
 
 His chamber door was closed ; she passed it and went 
 into her own. Then she opened the door separating the 
 rooms and peeped in. He was lying upon the bed, partly 
 dressed, and Avrapped in a warm dressing-gown ; his face 
 was turned to the pillow, and he was apparently asleep. 
 
 She stole up and stood looking at him. Not a trace of 
 fever lingered in his face now ; his fine features looked wan 
 and delicate. Her love for him was making itself heard 
 just then. Cautiously she stooped to imprint a soft, silent 
 kiss upon his cheek ; and then another. 
 
 She would have lifted her face then, and found she 
 could not do so. His arm was round her in a trice, hold- 
 ing it there ; his beautiful gray eyes had opened and were 
 fixed on hers. 
 
 " So you care for me a little bit yet, Blanche," he fondly 
 whispered. " Better this than calling me hard names." 
 
 She Inirst into tears. " I should care for you always, 
 Archibald, if — if — I were sure you cared for me." 
 
 " You may be very sure of f/ud,'' he emphatically
 
 NOT LIFTED. 101 
 
 answered. "Let there be peace between ns, at any rate, 
 my clear ^Yife. The clouds will pass away in time." 
 
 On the ]\Ionday morning following, liord and Lady 
 Level departed for London. The peace patched up be- 
 tween them being honestly genuine and hopeful on his 
 lordship's part, but doubtful on that of my lady. 
 
 Still nothing had been said or done to lift the mystery 
 which hung about Marshdale,
 
 192 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 o:ne xight in essex street. 
 
 "\Ye go on now to the following year : and I, Charles 
 Strange, take up the narrative. 
 
 It has been said that the two rooms on the ground-floor 
 in Essex Street were chiefly given over to the clerks. I 
 had a desk in the front office ; and frequently sat at it still. 
 Lennard's desk stood opposite to mine. On the first floor 
 the larsre front room was furnished as a sitting-room. It 
 was Mr. Brightman's room, and there he recei-ved his 
 clients. The back room was my own room ; but Mr. 
 Brightman had a desk in it, and I had another. His desk 
 sbood in the middle of the room before the hearthrug ; 
 mine under the window 
 
 One fine Saturday afternoon in February, towards five 
 o'clock, I was writing busily at my desk in this latter 
 room, when Mr. Brightman came in. 
 
 " llather dark, is it not, Charles ? " he remarked, as he 
 stirred the fire and sat down in his armchair beside it. 
 
 "Yes, sir ; but I have almost finished." 
 
 " What are you going to do with yourself to-morrow ? " 
 he presently asked, when I was putting up my parchments. 
 
 " Nothing in particular, sir." I could not help some- 
 times retaining my old way of addressing him. " Last 
 Sunday I was with my uncle Stillingfar."
 
 ONE KIGUT IN ESSEX STREET. 19S 
 
 " Then you may as well come down to Clapham and dine 
 with mc. ]\Irs. Brightman is away for a day or two, and 
 I shall be alone. Come in time for service." 
 
 I promised, and drew a chair to the fire, ready to talk 
 with him. He liked a chat with me at times when the 
 day's work was over. It turned now on Lord Level, from 
 whom I had heard that morning. We were not his usual 
 solicitors, bub were doing a little matter of business 
 for him. He and Blanche had been abroad since the 
 previous November (when they had come up together 
 from Marshdale), and had now been in Paris for about a 
 month. 
 
 " Do they still get on pretty well ? " asked Mr. Bright- 
 man : for he knew that there had been differences between 
 them. 
 
 " Pretty well," I answered, rather hesitatingly. 
 
 And, in truth, it was only pretty well, so far as I was 
 able to form a judgment. During this sojourn of theirs in 
 Paris I had spent a few days there with a client, and saw 
 Blanche two or three times. That she was living in a 
 state of haughty resentment against her husband was 
 indisputable, but why or wherefore, I knew not. She 
 dropped a mysterious word to me now and then, of which 
 I could make nothing. 
 
 While Mr. Brightman was talking, a clerk came in, 
 handed him a letter and retired. 
 
 " What a nuisance ! " cried he, as he read it by fire-light. 
 *'Sir Edmund Clavering's coming to town this evening, 
 and wants me to see him ! I can't go home to dinner 
 now." 
 
 "Which train is he coming by ? " I asked. 
 
 " One due at Euston Square at six o'clock," replied 
 Mr. Brightman, referring to the letter. " I wanted to be 
 home early tliis evening." 
 

 
 191 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " You are not obliged to wait, sir," I said. I wished 
 later — oli, liow I wished it ! — that he had not waited ! 
 
 "I suppose I must. He is a good client, and easily 
 takes offence. Recollect that breeze we had with him 
 three or four mouths ago." 
 
 The clocks struck five as he spoke, and we heard the 
 clerks leaving as usual. I have already stated that no 
 difference was made in the working hours on Saturdays in 
 those days. Afterwards, Lennard came up to ask whether 
 there was anything more to be done. 
 
 " Not now," replied Mr. Brightman. " But, Lennard," 
 he added, as a thought seemed to occur to him, " you may 
 as well look in again to-night about half-past seven or 
 eight, if it won't inconvenience you. Sir Edmund Claver- 
 ing is coming up ; I conclude it is for something special ; 
 and I may have instructions to give for Monday morning." 
 
 " Very well," replied Lennard. " I will come." 
 
 He went out as he spoke ; a spare, gentlemanly man, 
 with a fair complexion and thin, careworn face. Edgar 
 Lennard was a man of few words, but attentive and always 
 at his post, a most efficient superintendent of the office and 
 of the clerks in general. 
 
 He left and Mr. Brightman rose, saying he would go aiid 
 get some dinner at the Rainbow. I suggested that he shoukl 
 share my modest steak, adding that Leah could as easily 
 send up enough for two as for one : but he preferred to go 
 out. I rang the bell as I heard him close the front door. 
 Watts answered it, and lighted the gas. 
 
 " Tell your wife to prepare dinner at once," I said to 
 him ; " or as soon as possible : Mr. Brightman is coming 
 back to-night. You are going out, are you not ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, about that business. Mr. Lennard said I had 
 better go as soon as I had had my tea." 
 
 "Very well. It will take you two or three hours to get
 
 ONE NIGHT IN ESSEX STREET. 195 
 
 tbcre and back again. See to the fire in the next room ; it 
 is to be kept np. And, Watts, tell Leah not to trouble 
 about vegetables : I can't wait for them." 
 
 In about twenty minutes Leah and dinner appeared. I 
 coiUd not help looking at her as she placed the tray on the 
 table and settled the dishes. Thin, haggard, untidy, she 
 presented a strange contrast to the well-dressed upper 
 servant I had known at White Littleham Rectory. It was 
 AVatts who generally waited upon me. When Leah knew 
 that she would have to wait, she put herself straight. To- 
 day she had not known. My sitting-room upstairs was not 
 much used in winter. This one was warm and comfortable, 
 with a large fire kept in it all day, so I generally remained 
 in it. I was not troubled with clients after office hours. 
 
 " I wonder you go such a figure, Leah ! " I could not 
 help saying so. 
 
 " It is cleaning-day, sir. And I did not know I should 
 have to wait upon you. Watts has just gone out." 
 
 " It is strange to me that you cannot get a woman in to 
 help you. I have said so before." 
 
 " Ah, sir, nobody knows where the shoe pinches but he 
 who wears it." 
 
 With this unintelligible remark, and a deep sigh, Leah 
 withdrew. I had finished dinner, and the tray was taken 
 away before IMr. Brightman returned. 
 
 "Xow I hope Sir Edmund will be punctual," he cried as 
 we sat talking over a glass of sherry. " It is half -past six : 
 time he was here." 
 
 " And there he is ! " I exclaimed, as a ring and a knock 
 shook the house. After five o'clock the front door was 
 always closed. 
 
 Watts being out, we heard Leah answer the door in her 
 charming costume. But clients pay little attention to the 
 attire of a laundress in chambers.
 
 1% THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 . *' Good heavens ! Cau Sir Edmund have taken too 
 much ! " uttered Mr. Brightman, halting as he was about 
 to enter the other room to receive him. Loud sounds in a 
 man's voice arose from the passage ; laughing, joking with 
 Leah. " Open the door, Charles." 
 
 I had already opened it, and saw, not Sir Edmund 
 •Clavering, but a young country client, George Coney, the 
 son of a substantial and respectable yeoman in Gloucester- 
 shire. He appeared to be in exalted spirits, and had a little 
 exceeded, but was far from being intoxicated. 
 
 " What, is IMr. Brightman here ? I only expected to see 
 you," cried he, shaking hands with both. " Look here ! " 
 holding out a small canvas bag, and rattling it. "What 
 does that sound like ? " 
 
 " It sounds like gold," said Mr. Brightman. 
 
 " Right, sir ; thirty golden sovereigns : and I am as de- 
 lighted with them as if they were thirty hundred," said he, 
 opening the bag and displaying its contents. " Last week I 
 got swindled out of a horse down at home. Thirty pounds 
 I sold him for, and he and the pm'chaser disappeared and 
 forgot to pay. My father went on at me, like our old mill 
 clacking ; not so much for the loss of the thirty pounds, as 
 at my being done : and all the farmers round about clacked 
 at me, like so many more mills. Pleasant, that, for a fellow, 
 was it not ? " 
 
 " Very," said Mr. Brightman, while I laughed. 
 
 " I did not care to stand it," went on George Coney. " I 
 obtained a bit of a clue, and the day before yesterday I 
 came up to London — and have met with luck. This 
 afternoon I dropped across the very chap, where I had 
 waited for him since the morning. He was going into a 
 public-house, and another with him, and I pinned them in 
 the room, with a policeman outside, and he pretty soon 
 shelled out the thirty pounds, rather than be taken. That's
 
 ONE NIGHT IN ESSEX STREET. 197 
 
 luck, I hope." He opened the bag as he spoke, and 
 displayed the gold. 
 
 "Remarkable luck, to get the money," observed Mr. 
 Brightman. 
 
 " I expect they had been in luck themselves," continued 
 young Coney, "for they had more gold with them, and 
 several notes. They were for paying me in notes, but ' No, 
 thank ye,' said I, ' I know good gold when I see it, and I'll 
 take it in that." 
 
 "I am glad you have been so fortunate," said Mr. 
 Brightman. " When do you return home ? " 
 
 " I did mean to go to-night, and I called to leave with 
 you this small deed that my father said I might as well 
 bring up with me, as I was coming " — producing a thin 
 folded parchment from his capacious pocket-book. " But 
 I began thinking, as I came along, that I might as well 
 have a bit of a spree now I am here, and go down by 
 ]\Ionday night's train," added the young man, tying up the 
 bag again, and slipping it into his pocket. " I shall go to 
 a theatre to-night." 
 
 "Not with that gold about you?" said Mr. Bright- 
 man. 
 
 " "Why not ? " 
 
 " Because you would have no trace of it left to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 George Coney laughed good-humouredly. " I can take 
 care of myself, sir." 
 
 " Perhaps so ; but you can't take care of the gold. Come, 
 hand it over to me. Your father will thank me for being 
 determined, and you also, Mr. George, when you have 
 cooled down from the seductions of London." 
 
 " I may want to spend some of it," returned George 
 Coney. " Let's see how much I have," cried he, turning 
 the loose money out of his pockets. " Four pounds, seven
 
 198 THE STOEY OF CHARLES STEANGE, 
 
 sliilliugs, and a few half-pence," he concluded, counting 
 ib up. 
 
 " A great deal too much to squander or lose in one night," 
 remarked Mr. Brightman. " Here," added he, unlocking 
 a deep drawer in his desk, " put your bag in here, and come 
 for it on Monday." 
 
 George Coney drew the bag from his pocket, not without 
 a few remonstrative shakes of the head, and placed it in 
 the drawer. Mr. Brightman locked it, and restored the 
 keys to his pocket. 
 
 " You are worse than my father is," cried George Coney, 
 half in jest, half vexed at having yielded. " I wouldn't be 
 as close and stingy for anything." 
 
 "In telling this story twenty years hence, Mr. George, 
 you will say. What a simpleton I should have made of 
 myself, if that cautious old lawyer Brightman had not been 
 close and stingy ! " 
 
 George Coney winked at me and laughed. " Perhaps 
 he's right, after all." 
 
 " I know I am," said Mr. Brightman. " Will you take 
 a glass of sherry ? " 
 
 " Well ; no, I think I had better not. I have had 
 almost enough already, and I want to carry clear eyes with 
 me to the play. AVhat time does it begin ? " 
 
 " About seven, I think ; but I am not a theatre-goer 
 myself. Strange can tell you." 
 
 " Then I shall be off," said he, shaking hands with us, 
 as only a hearty country yeoman knows how to. 
 
 He had scarcely gone when Sir Edmund Clavering's 
 knock was heard. ]\Ir. Brightman went with him into the 
 front room, and I sat reading the Times. Leah, by the 
 way, had made herself presentable, and looked tidy enough 
 in a clean white cap and apron. 
 
 Sir Edmund did not stay long, leaving about seven. I
 
 ONE NIGHT IN ESSEX STREET. 199 
 
 heard Mr. Briglitmau go back after showing him out, and 
 rake the fire out of the grate — lie was always timidly 
 cautious about fire— and then he returned to my room. 
 
 " No wonder Sir Edmund wanted to see me," cried he. 
 " There's the deuce of a piece of work down at his place. 
 His cousin wants to dispute the will and to turn him out. 
 They have been serving notices on the tenants not to pay 
 the rent." 
 
 "What a curious woman she must be ! " 
 
 Mr. Brightman smiled slightly, but made no answer. 
 
 " He did not stay long, sir." 
 
 " No, he has a dinner engagement." 
 
 As My. Brightman spoke, he tm'ued up the gas, drew his 
 chair to the desk and sat down, his back then being towards 
 the fire. " I must look over these letters and copies of 
 notices which Sir Edmund brought with him, and has left 
 with me," he remarked. " I don't care to go home 
 directly." 
 
 The next minute he was asborbed in the papers. I put 
 down the Times, and rose. "You do not want me, I 
 suppose," I said. " I promised Arthur Lake to go to his 
 chambers for an hour." 
 
 " I don't want you, Charles. Mind you are not late in 
 coming down to me to-morrow morning." 
 
 So I wished him good night and departed. Arthur 
 Lake, a full-fledged barrister now of the Middle Temple, 
 rented a couple of rooms in one of the courts. His papers 
 were in one room, his bed in the other. He was a steady 
 fellow, as he always had been, working hard, and likely to 
 get on. "We passed many of our evenings together over a 
 quiet chat and a cigar, I going round to him, or he coming 
 in to me. He had grown up a little, dandified sort of man, 
 good-humouredly insolent as ever when the fit took him : 
 but sterlintr at heart.
 
 200 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Lake was sitting at the fire waiting for me, and began 
 to grumble at my being late. I mentioned what had 
 hindered me. 
 
 " And I have forgotten my cigar-ease ! " I exclaimed, as 
 I sat down. " I have filled it, all ready, and left it on the 
 table." 
 
 " Never mind," said Lake. " I laid in a parcel to-day." 
 
 But I did mind, for Lake's " parcels " were never good, 
 he would buy his cigars so dreadfully strong. Nothing 
 pleased him but those full-flavoured Lopez, whilst I liked 
 mild Cabanas : so, generally speaking, I kept to my own. 
 However, I took one, and we sat, talking and smoking. I 
 smoked it out, abominable though it was, and took another ; 
 but I couldn't stand a second. 
 
 " Lake, I cannot smoke your cigars," I said, flinging it 
 into the fire. " You know I never can. I must fetch my 
 own. There goes eight o'clock." 
 
 " "What's the matter with them ? " asked Lake : his 
 usual question. 
 
 " Everything ; they are bad all over. I shall be back in 
 a trice." 
 
 I went the short way, through the passages, which brought 
 me into Essex Street, and had my latch-key ready to open 
 the door with as I approached the house. But the door 
 was open. A policeman, standing by the area railings, 
 recognized me, and wished me good evening. 
 
 " AVhose carelessness is this ? " thought I, advancing to 
 tlie top of the kitchen stairs and calling to Leah. 
 
 But no Leah made her appearance. I shut the front 
 door and went upstairs, wondering whether Mr. Brightman 
 had left. 
 
 Left ! I started back as I entered ; for there lay Mr. 
 lirightman on the floor by his desk, as if he had pushed 
 back his chair and fallen from it.
 
 ONt: NIGHT IN ESSEX STREET. 201 
 
 "AVliat is the matter ? " I exclaimed, throwing my hat 
 anywhere, and hastening to raise him. But his head and 
 shonlders were a dead weight in my arms, and there was 
 an awful look upon his face, as the gaslight fell upon it. 
 A look, in short, of death, and not of an easy death. 
 
 My pulses beat quicker, man though I was, and my heart 
 beat with them. I let him fall again and rang the bell 
 violently. I rushed to the door and shouted over the 
 banisters for Leah ; and just as I was leaping down for 
 the policeman I had seen outside, or any help that might 
 be at hand, I heard a latch-key inserted into the lock, and 
 Lennard came in with Dr. Dickenson. I knew him well, 
 for he had attended Miss Methold in the days gone by. 
 
 As he hastened to Mr. Brightman, Lennard turned to 
 me. 
 
 " Mr. Strange, how did it happen ? " he whispered. " Was 
 he ill ? " 
 
 "I know nothing about it, Lennard. I came in a 
 minute ago, and found him lying here. What do you 
 know ? Had you been here before ? " 
 
 " I came, as Mr. Brightman directed," he replied. " It 
 was a little before eight ; and when I got upstairs he was 
 lying as yon see. I tried to rouse him, but could not, and 
 went off for the doctor." 
 
 " Did you leave the front door open ? " 
 
 " I believe I did, in my flurry and haste. I thought of 
 it as I ran up the street, but would not lose time in going 
 back." 
 
 " He is gone, Mr. Strange ! " said Dr. Dickenson, ad- 
 vancing towards me, for I and Lennard had stood near 
 the door. *' It is a case of sudden death." 
 
 I sat down bewildered, unable to believe it. How awfully 
 sudden I " Is it apoplexy ? " I asked, lifting my head. 
 
 " No, I should say not."
 
 202 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Then what is it ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell ; it may he the heart." 
 
 " Are you sure he is dead ? Beyond all hope ? " 
 
 " He is indeed." 
 
 A disagreeable doubt rushed over my mind, and I spoke 
 on the impulse of the moment. " Has he come by his death 
 fairly ? " 
 
 The surgeon paused before he answered. " I see no 
 reason, as yet, to infer otherwise. There are no signs of 
 violence about him." 
 
 I cannot describe my feelings as we stood looking down 
 at him. Never had I felt so before. What was I to do 
 next ? — how act ? A hazy idea w^as making itself heard 
 that some weighty responsibility lay upon me. 
 
 Just then a cab dashed up to the door ; we heard it all 
 too plainly in the hushed silence ; and some one knocked 
 and rang. Lennard went down to open it, and I told him 
 to send in the policeman and fetch another doctor. Look- 
 ing over the banisters I saw George Coney come in. 
 
 " Such a downfall to my plans," he began, seeing me as 
 he ascended the stairs. " I went round to my inn to brush 
 myself up before going to the play, and there I found a 
 letter from my father, which they had forgotten to give me 
 this morning. Our bailiff's been taken ill, cannot leave his 
 bed, and father writes that I had better let the horse and 
 the thirty pounds go for a bad job, and come home, for he 
 can't have me away any longer. So my spree's done for, 
 this time, and I am on my way to the station, to catch the 
 nine o'clock train." 
 
 "Don't go in until you have heard what is there," I 
 whispered, as he was entering the room. " Mr. Brightman, 
 whom you left Avell, is lying on the floor, and " 
 
 " And what ? " asked young Coney, looking at me. 
 
 *' I fear he is dead."
 
 0X1-: NIGHT IN ESSEX STREET. ?M 
 
 After a dismayed jDause he went gently into the room, 
 taking off his hat reverently and treading on tiptoe. " Poor 
 fellow ! poor gentleman ! " he uttered, after looking at him. 
 " What an awful thing ! How was he taken ? " 
 
 " We do not know how. He was alone." 
 
 " What, alone when he was taken ! no one to help him ! *' 
 returned the young man. " That was hard ! What has he 
 died of .'^ " 
 
 " Probably the heart," interposed Dr. Dickenson. 
 
 " Last summer a carter of ours fell down as he was stand- 
 ing near us ; my father was giving him directions about 
 a load of hay, and when we picked him up he was dead," 
 spoke the young man. "That was the heart, they said. 
 But he looked calm and quiet, not as Mr. Brightraan looks. 
 He left seven children, poor chap ! " 
 
 At this juncture Lennard returned with the constable. 
 Another doctor, he said, would be round directly. After 
 some general conversation, George Coney looked at his watch. 
 
 " Mr. Strange, my time's up. Would it be convenient 
 to give me that money again ? I should like to take it 
 down with me, you see, just to have the laugh against the 
 old folks at home." 
 
 " I will give it you," I said. 
 
 But for the very life of me, I could not put my hand into 
 the dead man's pocket. I beckoned to Lennard. "Can 
 you take out his keys ? " 
 
 *' Let me do it," said Dr. Dickenson, for Lennard did 
 not seem to relish the task either. " I am more accustomed 
 to death than you are." 
 
 Dr. Dickenson found the keys and handed them to me. 
 I unlocked the drawer, being obliged to bend over the dead 
 to do so, and young Coney stepped forward to receive the 
 bag. 
 
 But the bag was not there I
 
 :04 Titt) StORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHATTER XVI. 
 
 Leah's story. 
 
 Our dismayed faces might have formed a study for a 
 painter, as Ave stood in my room in Essex Street : the 
 doctor, George Coney, Lennard and I. On the floor, 
 between the hearthrug and the desk, lay the dead man, 
 the blaze of the fire and the gaslights playing on his 
 features. Mr. Brightman was dead. In my mental pain 
 and emotion I could not realize the fact ; would not believe 
 it to be true. He had died thus suddenly, no one near him ; 
 no one, so far as was yet known, in the house at the time. 
 And to me, at least, there seemed to be some mystery 
 attaching to it. 
 
 But, at this particular moment, we were looking for 
 George Coney's sovereigns, which Mr. Brightman, not 
 much more than an hour before, had locked up in the deep 
 drawer of his desk, returning the keys to his pocket. 
 After Dr. Dickenson had handed me the keys I unlocked 
 and opened the drawer. The bag was not there. 
 
 If the desk itself had disappeared, I could not have been 
 more surprised. Lying in the drawer, close to where the 
 bag had been, was a gold watch belonging to Mrs. Bright- 
 man, which had been brought up to town to be cleaned. 
 That was undisturbed. " Coney," I exclaimed, " the money 
 is not here 1 "
 
 LEAH'S STORY. 205 
 
 *' It was pub there," replied young Coney. " Next to tlic 
 watch." 
 
 " I know it was," I answered, opening the drawer on the 
 other side ; bat that was full of papers. I looked about on 
 the desk ; then on luy own desk, even unlocking the 
 drawers, though I had had the key in my own pocket ; then 
 on the tables and mantelpiece. Nob a trace anywhere of 
 the canvas bag. 
 
 " What bag is it ? " inquired Dr. Dickenson, who, of 
 course, had known nothing of this. " What was in 
 it?" 
 
 "A small canvas bag containing some gold that Mr. 
 George Coney had wished to leave here until Monday," I 
 answered. 
 
 " 'Twas one of our sample barley bags ; I happened to 
 have it in my pocket when I left home," explained the 
 young man. " My father's initials were on it : S. C." 
 . " How much was in it ? " asked Lennard. 
 
 " Thirty pounds." 
 
 " I fear you will be obliged to go without it, after all," I 
 said, when I had turned everything over, "for it is not to be 
 found. I will remit you thirty pounds on Monday. AVe 
 send our spare cash to the bank on Saturday afternoons, so 
 that there is nob so much in the house : and I really do not 
 know where Mr. Brightman has put the cheque-book. It is 
 strano-e that he should have taken the bag out of the drawer 
 
 agani 
 
 5> 
 
 " Perhaps it may be in one of his pockets," suggested the 
 doctor. " Sliall I search them ? " 
 
 " No, no," interposed George Coney. " I wouldn't have 
 the poor gentleman disturbed just for that. You'll remit it 
 to me, Mr. Strange. Not to my father," he added, with a 
 smile : " to me." 
 
 I went down with him, and there sat Leah at the bottom
 
 206 THE STOEY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 of the stairs, her head against the banisters, ahnost under 
 the hall lamp. " When did you come in ? " I asked. 
 
 She rose hastily, and faced me. "I thought you were 
 out, sir. I have come in only this instant." 
 
 " What is the matter ? " I continued, struck with the 
 white, strange look upon her face. " Arc you ill ? " 
 
 " Xo, sir, not ill. Trouble is the lot of us all." 
 
 I shook hands with George Coney as he got into his cab 
 and departed, and then returned indoors. . Leah was hasten- 
 ing along the passage to the kitchen stairs. I called her 
 back again. "Leah," I said, "do you know what has 
 happened to Mr. Brightman ? " 
 
 *' Xo, sir," answered she. " What has hajipened to him ? " 
 
 " You must prepare for a shock. He is dead." 
 
 She had a basket in her hand, and dropped it as she 
 backed against the wall in horror. Then her features 
 relaxed into a wan smile. 
 
 " Ah, sir, you are playing a trick upon me, as you used 
 to do in the old days, when you were Master Charles." 
 
 " I wish to my heart it Avas so, Leah. Mr. Brightman is 
 lying upon the floor in my room. I fear there can be no 
 doubt that he is dead." 
 
 " My poor master ! " she slowly ejaculated. " Heaven 
 have mercy upon him ! — and upon us ! Why, it's not 
 more tlian three-quarters of an hour since I took up some 
 water to him." 
 
 " Did he ask for it ? " 
 
 " He rang the bell, sir, and asked for a decanter of water 
 and a tumbler." 
 
 " How did he look then, Leah ? Where was he sitting ? " 
 
 " He was sitting at his table, sir, and looked as usual, for 
 all I saw, but his head was bent over something he was 
 reading. I put some coals on the fire and came away. Mr. 
 Charles, who is up there with him ? "
 
 LEAH'S STORY. 207 
 
 " Dr. Dickenson and- 
 
 A knock at the door interraptcd me. It proved to be 
 the other doctor I had sent for. 
 
 The medical men proceeded to examine Mr. Brightman 
 more closely. I had sent for the police, and they also were 
 present. I then searched his pockets, a constable aiding 
 me, and we put their contents carefully away. But there 
 was no bag containing gold amongst them. How had it 
 disappeared ? 
 
 A most unhappy circumstance was the fact that I could 
 not send for IMrs. Brightman, for I did not know where she 
 was. Mr. Brightman had said she was out of town, but did 
 not say where. 
 
 When Watts came home, I despatched him to the house 
 at Clapham, allowing him no time to indulge in grief or 
 curiosity. Leah had knelt down by Mr. Brightman, tears 
 silently streaming from her eyes. 
 
 The fire in the front room was relighted ; the very coals, 
 which he, poor man, had so recently taken off ; and I, 
 Lennard and Arthur Lake went in to talk the matter over 
 quietly. 
 
 " Lennard," I said, " I am not satisfied that he has died 
 a natural death. I hope " 
 
 "There are no grounds for any other supposition, Mr. 
 Strange," he interrupted. " None whatever." 
 
 "I trust there are none— but I don't quite like the 
 attendant circumstances of the case. The loss of that money 
 causes all sorts of unpleasant suspicions to arise. When you 
 came to the house, Lennard, did you go straight upstairs ? " 
 
 " No, I went into the front office," replied Lennard. " I 
 thought Sir Edmund Clavering might still be here." 
 
 " Was Leah out or in ? " 
 
 "Leah was standing at the front door, looking — as it 
 seemed to me — down the steps leading to the Thames.
 
 208 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Whilst I was lighting my caudle by the hall-lamp, she shut 
 the front door and came to me, extremely agitated, and " 
 
 " Agitated ? " I interrupted. 
 
 " Yes," said Lennard ; " I could not be mistaken. I 
 stared at her, wondering what could cause it, and why her 
 face was so white — almost as white as Mr. Brightman's is 
 now. She asked — as earnestly as if she were pleading for 
 life — whether I would remain in the house for a few 
 minutes, as Mr. Brightmau had not gone, whilst she ran 
 out upon an errand. I inquired whether Sir Edmund 
 C layering was upstairs, and she said no ; he had left ; Mr. 
 Strange was out, and Mr. Brightmau was alone." 
 
 " Did she go out ? " 
 
 " Immediately," replied Lennard ; " just as she was, 
 without bonnet or shawl. I went up to your room, and 
 tapped at the door. It was not answered, and I went in. 
 At first I thought the room was empty ; but in a moment I 
 saw Mr. Brightmau lying on the ground. He was dead 
 even then ; I am certain of it," added Lennard, pausing 
 from natural emotion. " I raised his head, and put a little 
 water to his temples, but I saw that he was dead." 
 - " It is an awful thing ! " exclaimed Lake. 
 
 " I can tell you that I thought so," assented Lennard. 
 " I knew that the first thing must be to get a doctor ; but 
 how I found my way up the street to Dickenson's I hardly 
 remember. No wonder I left the front door open behind 
 me." 
 
 I turned all this over in my mind. There were two 
 points I did not like — Leah's agitation, and Lennard's 
 carelessness in leaving the door open. I called in one of the 
 policemen from the other room, for they were there still, 
 with the medical men. 
 
 "Williams," I began, "you saw me come down the 
 street, latchkey in hand ? "
 
 LRATPS fiTORY. 200' 
 
 " I dill, sir, aud wished you g-ood evening,"' replied 
 "Williams. "It wasn't long after the other gentleman," 
 indicating Lcnnard, " had run out." 
 
 " I did not sec you," cried Lennard, looking at him. " I 
 wish I had seen you. I wanted help, and there was not a 
 soul in the street." 
 
 " I was standing in shadow, at the top of the steps leading 
 to the water," said the man. " You came out, sir, all in a 
 hurry, and went rushing up the street, leaving the door 
 open." 
 
 "And it is that door's having been left open that I don't 
 like," I observed. " If this money does not turn up, I can 
 only think some rogue entered and took it." 
 
 " Nobody entered, sir," said the policeman. " I had my 
 eye on the door the whole time till you came down. To see 
 two folk running like mad out of a quiet and respectable 
 house roused my suspicions ; and I went up to the door and 
 stood near it till you entered." 
 
 " Two running out of it ! " I cried. " There was only 
 Mr. Lennard." 
 
 " I had seen somebody before that — a woman," replied 
 the officer. " She came out, and went tearing down the 
 steps towards the river, calling to some one out of sight. I 
 think it was your servant, Mrs. Watts, but I was only half- 
 way down the street then, and she was too quick for me." 
 
 " Then you are quite sure no one entered ? " 
 
 " Quite sure, sir. I never moved from the door." 
 
 "Setting aside Williams' testimony, there was scarcely 
 time for any one to get in and do mischief," observed Lake. 
 " And no one could take that gold without first getting the 
 keys out of Mr. Brightman's pocket. For such a purpose, 
 who would dare rifle the pockets of the dead 'i " 
 
 " And then replace the keys," added Lennard. 
 
 "Besides," I remarked, "no one knew the money was
 
 210 THE STORY OF CHAELES STRANGE. 
 
 there. Mr. Briglitmau, mysulf, and George Coney were 
 alone cognisant of the fact. The more one thinks of it, the 
 stranger it seems to grow." 
 
 The moments passed. Doctors and pohce had left, and 
 nothing remained but the sad burden in the next room. 
 Lennard also left me to go home, for there was nothing 
 more to be done ; and Arthur Lake, who had gone round 
 to his rooms, came in again. His conscience was smiting 
 him, he said, for having deserted me. We sat down in the 
 front room, as before, and began to discuss the mystery. I 
 remarked, to begin with, that there existed not the slightest 
 loophole of suspicion to guide us. 
 
 "Except one," said Lake quietly. "And I may pain 
 you if I venture to suggest it. I fancy it was Leah." 
 
 " Leah ? " 
 
 "Well, I do. She was the only person in the house, 
 excepting Mr. Brightman. And what did her agitation 
 mean — the agitation Lenuard has referred to ? " 
 
 " No, no, Arthur ; it could not have been Leah. Admit- 
 ting the doubt for a moment, how could she have done it ? " 
 
 " Only in this way. I have been arguing it out with 
 myself in my rooms ; and of course it may be all imagina- 
 tion. Leah took up the water that Mr. Brightman rang for. 
 It may be that he had the drawer open and she saw the 
 money. Or it may even be tliat, for some purpose or other, 
 he had the bag upon the table. Was he taken ill whilst 
 she was in the room ? and did she, overcome by temptation, 
 steal the money ? I confess that this possibility presents 
 itself forcibly to me," concluded Lake. "Naturally she 
 would afterwards be in a state of agitation." 
 
 I sat revolving what he said, but could not bring my 
 mind to admit it. Circumstances— especially her agitation 
 —might seem against her, but I believed t'lc woman honest 
 as the day.
 
 tEAH'S STORY. 211 
 
 There is not the slightest doubt that ahudst evei'y man 
 boru into the world is adapted for one especial calling above 
 all others ; and it is an unhappy fact this tendency is very 
 rarely discovered and followed up. It is the misdirection 
 of talent which causes so many of the failm'cs in life. In 
 my own case this mistake had not occurred. I believe that 
 of all pursuits common to man, I was by nature most fitted 
 for that of a solicitor. At the Bar, as a pleader, I should 
 have failed, and ruined half the clients who entrusted me 
 with briefs. But for penetration, for seizing without 
 effort the different points of a case laid befoi'c me, few 
 equalled me. I mention this only because it is a fact : not 
 from motives of self-praise and vanity. Vanity ? I am 
 only thankful that my talents were directed into their proper 
 channel. And this judgment, exercised now, told me that 
 Leah was not guilty. I said so to Arthur Lake. 
 
 The return of Watts interrupted us. He had brought 
 back with him Mr. Brightman's butler, Perry— a trust- 
 worthy man, who had been long in the family. I shall 
 never forget his emotion as he stood over his dead master, 
 to whom he was much attached. Mrs. and Miss Brightman 
 had gone to Hastings for two or three days, he said, and 
 1 determined to go there in the morning and break the sad 
 tidings to them. 
 
 Sad tidings, indeed ; a calamity for us all. That night 
 1 could not sleep, and in the morning rose unrefreshed. 
 The doubt about Leah also troubled me. Though in one 
 sense convinced that she could not be guilty, the possibility 
 that she might be so kept presenting itself before me. 
 
 She came into the room while I was at breakfast, and 
 i detained her a moment. 
 
 Very spruce and neat she looked this morning. 
 
 "Leah," I began, "there is an impleasant mystery 
 attending this affair."
 
 212 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " As to wliat Mr. Brightman lias died of, sir ? " 
 
 " I do nob allude to that. But there is some money 
 missing." 
 
 "Money!" echoed Leah, in what looked like genuine 
 surprise. 
 
 " Last night, after Mr. Brightman came in from dinner, 
 he put a small canvas bag, containing thirty sovereigns, in 
 the deep drawer of his desk in my room, locked it and put 
 the keys in his pocket. I had occasion to look for that 
 money immediately after he was found dead, and it was 
 gone." 
 
 " Bag and all, sir ? " said Leah, after a pause. 
 
 " Bag and all." 
 
 " Not stolen, surely ? " 
 
 " I don't see how else it can have disappeared. It could 
 not go without hands ; and the question is, did any one get 
 into the house and take it .? " 
 
 She looked at me, and I at her : she was apparently 
 thinking. " How could any one get in, sir ? " she asked, in 
 tones of remonstrance. 
 
 " I do not see how, unless it was when you went out, 
 Leah. You were out some time, you know. You ran 
 down the steps leading to the river, and were in great 
 agitation. What did it mean ? " ' 
 
 Leah rung her hands. " Oh, sir ! " she gasped. "Please 
 don't question me. I cannot tell you anything about 
 that." 
 
 " I must know it, Leah." 
 
 She shook her head, and her tears began to fall. 
 
 " Indeed you must explain it to me," I continued, speak- 
 ing gently. " There is no help for it. Don't you see that 
 this will have to be investigated, and " 
 
 " You never suspect me of taking the money, sir ? " she 
 exclaimed breathlessly.
 
 LEAH'S STORY. 218 
 
 " Xo, I do not," I reiilied firmly. " It is one thing 
 to be sure of honesty, and quite another thing to wish 
 mysterious circumstances cleared up, where the necessity 
 for doing so exists. AVhat was your mystery, last night, 
 Leah ? " . ' 
 
 " Must I tell you, sir ? " 
 
 " Indeed you must. I dare say to tell it will not hurt 
 you, or to hear it hurt me." 
 
 " I wouM die rather than Watts should know," she 
 exclaimed, in low, impassioned tones, glancing towards the 
 door. 
 
 " Watts is in the kitchen, and cannot hear you. Speak 
 out, Leah." 
 
 " I never committed but one grave fault in my life," she 
 began, " and that was telling a deliberate lie. The conse- 
 quences have clung to me ever since, and if things go ou 
 as they are going on now, they'll just drive me into the 
 churchyard. When I lived with your people I was a young 
 widow, as you may remember, sir ; but perhaps you did not 
 know that I had a little child. Your mamma knew it, but 
 I don't think the servants knew, for I was never one to 
 talk of my own affairs. Just your age, sir, was my little 
 Xaucy, and when her father died his sister took to her ; 
 old Miss Williams — for she was a deal older than him. She 
 had a bit of a farm in Dorsetshire, and I'm afraid Nancy 
 had to work hard at it. But it failed after a time, and 
 Miss Williams died ; and Xancy, then about seventeen, 
 had come, I heard, to London. I was at Dover then, not 
 long returned from abroad, and was just married to James 
 Watts ; and I found — I found," Leah dropped her voice, 
 " that some one had turned her brain with his vows and 
 promises, and she had come up to London with him." 
 
 " Why don't you sit down whilst you tell me, Leah ? " 
 
 *' I had told Watts I had no children," she continued.
 
 ^14 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 disregarding my injuuctiou. " And that was the lie, Mr. 
 Charles. More than once he had said in my hearing that 
 he would never marry a ready-made family. For very 
 shame I could not tell him, when I found how things were 
 with Nancy. After we came to London, I searched her 
 out and went to her in secret, begging her to leave the man, 
 but she would not." 
 
 Leah stopped from emotion, but soon resumed : 
 
 " She would not leave him. In spite of all I could say 
 or do, though I went down on my knees to her, and sobbed 
 and prayed my heart out, she remained with him. And 
 she is with him still." 
 
 " All this time ? " 
 
 " All this time, sir ; seven years. He was once superior 
 to her in position, but has fallen from it now, is unsteady, 
 and drinks half his time away. Sometimes he is in work ; 
 oftener without it ; and the misery and privation she goes 
 through no tongue can tell. He beats her, abuses her " 
 
 " Why does she not leave him ? " 
 
 " Ah, sir, why don't we do many things that we ought 
 to do? Partly because she's afraid he would keep the 
 children. There are three of them. Many a time she would 
 have died of hunger but for me. I help her all I can ; 
 she's my own child, sir. You asked me, only yesterday, why 
 I went shabby ; but, instead of buying clothes for myself, 
 I scrape and save to keep her poor body and soul together ; 
 I go without food to take it to her ; many a day I put my 
 dinner away, telling Watts I don't feel inclined for it, 
 and will eat it by-and-by. He thinks 1 do so. She does 
 not beg of me ; she has never entered this house ; she has 
 never told that tyrant of hers that I am her mother." 
 
 " But about last night ? " I interrupted. 
 
 " I was at work in the kitchen when a little gravel was 
 thrown against the window. I guessed who it was, and
 
 LEAH'S STORY. 215 
 
 went 111) ^'^ the door. If AVatts had been at home, I should 
 have taken no notice, but just have said, ' Drat those street 
 boys again ! ' or something of that sort. There she was, 
 leaning against the opposite railings, and she crossed over 
 when she saw me. She said she was beside herself with 
 misery and trouble, and I believe she was. He had been 
 beating her, and she had not tasted food since the previous 
 day ; not a crumb. She kept looking towards the steps 
 leading to the Thames, and I thought she might have got 
 it into her head, in her weak state of body and misery of 
 mind, to put an end to herself. I tried to soothe and 
 reason with her ; what else could I do, sir ? I said I would 
 fetch her some food, and give her sevenpeuce to buy a loaf 
 to take home to her children." 
 
 *' Where does she live ? " I interposed. 
 
 " In this parish, St. Clement Danes ; and there are some 
 parts of this parish, you know, sir, as bad as any in 
 London. "When I offered to fetch her food, she said, Xo, 
 she would not take it ; her life was too wretched to bear, 
 and she should end it ; had come out to do so. It was 
 just what I feared. I scolded her, told her to stay there at 
 the door, and ran down for the food. When I got back, 
 I couldn't see her anywhere. Then a voice from the steps 
 called out ' Good-bye ! ' and I knew she was going to the 
 water. At that moment Mr. Lennard 'came up, and I 
 asked Mm to remain in the house whilst I went out for a 
 minute. I was frightened out of my senses." 
 
 " You found her ? " 
 
 " I found her, sir, looking down at the river. I reasoned 
 her into a little better mood ; she ate a httle of the food. I 
 brought her up the steps, gave her the sevenpeuce, and led 
 her up the street and across the Strand, on her way home. 
 And that's the whole truth, Mr. Strange, of what took mo 
 out last night ; and I declare I know no more of the
 
 216 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 missing money than a babe unborn. I had just come back 
 with the empty basket when you saw me sitting on the 
 stairs." 
 
 The whole truth I felt sure. Every word, every look 
 proclaimed it. 
 
 *' And that's my sad secret," she added ; " one I have to 
 bear about with me at all times, in my work and out of 
 my work. Watts is a good husband, but he prides himself 
 on his respectability, and I wouldn't have him know that I 
 have deceived him for the universe. I wouldn't have him 
 know that she, being what she is, was my daughter. He 
 said he'd treat me to Ashley's Circus last winter, and gave 
 me two shillings, and I pretended to go. But I gave it to 
 her, poor thing, and walked about in the cold, looking at 
 the late shops, till it was time to come home. Watts asked 
 me what I had seen, and I told him such marvels that he 
 said he'd go the next night himself, for he had never heard 
 the like, and he supposed it must be a benefit night. You 
 will not tell him my secret, sir .^ " 
 
 " No, Leah, I will not tell him. It is safe with me." 
 
 With a long-drawn sigh she turned to leave the room. 
 But I stopped her. 
 
 " A moment yet, Leah. Can you remember at what time 
 you took up the water to Mr. Brightman ? " 
 
 " It was some time before the stone came to the window. 
 About ten minutes, maybe, sir, after you went out. I 
 heard you come downstairs, and go out," 
 
 " No one came to the house during my absence ? " 
 
 " No one at all, sir." 
 
 "Did you notice whether Mr. Brightman had either of 
 the drawers of his desk open when you took up the 
 . water ? " 
 
 Leah shook her head. " I can't say, sir. T did not notice 
 .one way or the other."
 
 ( 217 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XYII. 
 
 LADY CLAVERING. 
 
 The people weve coming out of tlie various churches when 
 I reached Hastings. Going straight to the Queen's Hotel, 
 I asked for ]\Irs. Brightman, where Perry had said she was 
 staying. It was, I believe, the only good hotel in the place 
 in those days. Hatch, Mr. Brightmau's maid, came to me 
 at once. Her mistress was not yet up, she said, having a 
 bad headache. 
 
 Hatch and I had become quite confidential friends 
 during these past years. She was not a whit altered since 
 I first saw her, and to me did not look a day older. The 
 flaming ringlets adorned her face as usual, and sky-blue 
 cap-strings flowed behind them this morning. Hatch was 
 glaringly plain; Hatch had a wonderful tongue, and was 
 ever ready to exercise it, and Hatch's diction and grammar 
 were unique ; nevertheless, you could not help liking Hatch. 
 
 But to hear that Mrs. Brightman was ill in bed rather 
 checkmated me. I really did not know what to do. 
 
 " Mj business with your mistress is of very great im- 
 portance," I observed. " I ought to see her ; have come 
 down on purpose to see her." 
 
 "You might see her this afternoon, Mr. Strange ; not 
 before," spoke Hatch, decisively. "These headaches is 
 uncommon bad while they last. Perhaps Miss Annabel 
 would do ? She is not here, though ; but is staying with 
 her aunt Lucy."
 
 218 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " I have brought down bad news, Hatch. I should not 
 like Miss Annabel to be the first to hear it." 
 
 " Bad news ! " repeated Hatch, quickly, as she stared at 
 me with her great green eyes. "Our house ain't burnt 
 down, surely ! Is that the news, sir ? " 
 
 " "Worse than that, Hatch. It concerns Mr. Brightman." 
 
 Hatch's manner changed in a moment. Her voice 
 became timid. " For goodness' sake, Mr. >Strange ! he is 
 not ill, is he ? " 
 
 " "Worse, Hatch. He is dead," I whispered. 
 
 Hatch backed to a chair and dropped into it : we were 
 in Mrs. Brightman's sitting-room. " The Lord be good to 
 us ! " she exclaimed, in all reverence. Her red cheeks 
 turned white, her eloquence for once deserted her. 
 
 I sat down and gave her the details in a few brief 
 words : she was a confidential, trusted servant, and had 
 lived with her mistress many years. It affected her even 
 more than I had expected. She wrung her hands, her tears 
 coursed freely. 
 
 " My poor master — my poor mistress ! " she exclaimed. 
 "What on earth, sir— is it sure he is dead ? quite dead "i " 
 she broke off to ask. 
 
 " Nay, Hatch, I have told you." 
 
 Presently she got up, and seemed to rally her courage. 
 " Anyway, Mr. Strange, we shall have to meet this, and deal 
 with it as we best may. I mean the family, sir, what's left 
 of 'em. And missis must be told — and, pardon me, sir, but 
 I think I'd best be the one to tell her. She is so used to 
 me, you see," added Hatch, looking at me keenly, "and 
 might take it better from me than from you ; that is, it 
 might seem less hard." 
 
 " Indeed, I should only be too glad to be spared the task," 
 was my answer, 
 
 "But you must tell Miss Brightman, sir, and Miss
 
 LADY CLAYERING. 219 
 
 Annabel. Perhaps if you were to go now, wliile I do the 
 best I can with my missis, we might be ready for the after- 
 noon train. That, you say, will be best to travel by • " 
 
 " I said the train would be the best of the trains to-day. 
 Hatch. It is for Mrs. Brightman to consider whether she 
 will go up to-day or to-morrow." 
 
 " Well, yes, Mr. Strange, that's what I mean. My head's 
 almost moithered. But I think she is sure to go up to- 
 day." 
 
 Miss Brightman, who was Mr. Brightman's only sister, 
 lived in a handsome house facing the sea. Annabel visited 
 her a good deal, staying with her sometimes for weeks 
 together. Mr. Brightman had sanctioned it, Mrs. Bright- 
 man did not object to it. 
 
 Upon reaching the house, the footman said Miss Bright- 
 man had not yet come in from church, and ushered me into 
 the drawing-room. Annabel was there. And really, like 
 Hatch, she was not much altered, excepting in height and 
 years, since the day I first saw her, when she had chattered 
 to me so freely and lent me "The Old English Baron." 
 She was fourteen then : a graceful, pretty child, with charm- 
 ing manners ; her dark brown eyes, sweet and tender and 
 bright as her father's, her features delicately carved like her 
 mother's, a rose-blush on her dimpled cheeks. She was 
 twenty now, and a graceful, pretty woman. No, not one 
 whit altered. 
 
 She was standing by the fire in her silk attire, just as she 
 had come in from church, only her bonnet-strings untied. 
 Bonnets were really bonnets then, and made a lovely face 
 all the more attractive. Annabel's bonnet that day was 
 pink, and its border intermingled, as it seemed, with the 
 waves of her soft brown hair. She quite started with 
 surprise. 
 
 " Is it you, Charley ! " she exclaimed, coming forward,
 
 220 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 the sweet rose-blush deepening and the sweet eyes brighten- 
 ing. " Have you come to Hastings ? Is papa with you ? " 
 
 " No, Annabel, he is not with me," I answered gravely, 
 as I clasped her hand. " I wanted to see Miss Brightman." 
 
 " She will be here directly ; would be here now, but she 
 called in to see old Mrs. Day, who is ill : a great friend of 
 Aunt Lucy's. Did papa " 
 
 But we were interrupted by the return of Miss Bright- 
 man— a small, fragile woman, with delicate lungs. Annabel 
 left us together. 
 
 How I accomplished my unhappy task I hardly knew. 
 How Miss Brightman subsequently imparted it to Annabel 
 I did not know at all. Enough to say that we went to 
 London by an afternoon train, bearing our weight of care- 
 all excepting Miss Brightman. Hatch travelled in the 
 carriage with us. 
 
 In appearance, at any rate, the news had most affected 
 Mrs. Brightman. Her frame trembled, her pale face and 
 restless hands twitched with nervousness. Of course, her 
 headache went for something. 
 
 " I have them so very badly," she moaned to me once 
 during the joui'ney. " They unfit me for everything." 
 
 And, indeed, these headaches of Mrs. Brightman's were 
 nothing new to me. She had always suffered from them. 
 But of late, that is to say during the past few months, when 
 by chance I went to Clapham, I more often than not found 
 her ill and invisible from this distressing pain. My intimacy 
 with Mrs. Brightman had not made much progress. The 
 same proud, haughty woman she was when I first saw her, 
 she had remained. Coldly civil to me, as to others ; and 
 that was all that could be said. 
 
 Upon reaching London we drove to Essex Street. What 
 a painful visit it was ! Even now I cannot bear to think of 
 it. Poor Mrs. Brightman grew nervously excited. As she
 
 LADY CLAVE RING. 221 
 
 looked do\vu upon Liiu, in his death-stillness, I thought she 
 would have wept her heart away. Annabel strove to be 
 calm for her mother's sake. 
 
 After some tea, which Leah and Hatch brought up 
 to us, I saw them safely to Clapham, and then returned 
 home. 
 
 ]\Ionday morning rose, and its work with it : the im- 
 mediate work connected with our painful loss, and the future 
 work that was to fall upon mc. The chief weight and 
 responsibility of the business had hitherto been his share ; 
 now it must be mine. In the course of the day I sent a 
 cheque to George Coney. 
 
 An inquest had to be held, and took place early on Tues- 
 day morning. Mr. Brightman's death was proved beyond 
 doubt to have occurred from natural causes, though not 
 from heart disease. He had died by the visitation of God. 
 But for the disappearance of the money, my thoughts would 
 never have dwelt on any other issue. 
 
 After it was over, Lennard was standing with me in the 
 front-room, from which the jury had just gone out, ^mIicu 
 we fell to talking about the missing money. It lay heavily 
 upon my mind. Fathom it I could not, turn it about as I 
 would. Edgar Lennard was above suspicion, and he was the 
 only one, as far as he and I knew, who had been in the room 
 after the bag was put there, Leah excepted. Of her I felt 
 equally certain. Lennard began saying how heartily he 
 wished he had not been told to return that night ; but I 
 requested him to be at ease, for he had quite as much reason 
 to suspect me, as I him. 
 
 ' Not quite," answered he, smiling ; " considering that 
 you had to make it good." 
 
 " Well, Lennard, I dare say the mystery will be solved 
 some time or other. Kobberies, like murders, generally
 
 '222 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 come out. The worst is, we cauuot feel assured that other 
 losses may not follow." 
 
 " Not they," returned Lennard, too confidently. " This 
 one has been enough for us." 
 
 " Did it ever strike you, Lennard, that Mr. Brightman 
 had been in failing health lately ? " 
 
 " Often," emphatically spoke Lennard. " I think he had 
 something on his mind." 
 
 " On his mind ? I should say it was on his health. 
 There were times when he seemed to have neither energy 
 nor spirits for anything. You don't know how much busi- 
 ness he has of late left to me that he used to do himself." 
 
 " AYell," contended Lennard, " it used to strike me ho 
 was not at ease, and that something or other was troubling 
 him." 
 
 " Yes, and now that this fatal termination has ensued, we 
 see that the trouble may have been health," I maintained. 
 *' Possibly he knew that something was dangerously wrong 
 with him." 
 
 *' Possibly so," conceded Lennard. 
 
 He was leaving the room for his own, when a clerk met 
 him and said that Sir Edmund Clavering was asking for 
 ]\Ir. Strange. I bade him show up Sir Edmund. 
 
 Mr. Brightman had for years been confidential solicitor 
 to Sir Ralph Clavering, a physician, whose baronetcy was a 
 new one. When Sir Ralph gave up practice and retired to 
 an estate he bought in the country, a Mrs. Clavering, a 
 widow, whose husband had been a distant cousin of Sir 
 Ralph's, entered it with him as companion and housekeeper. 
 It ended in his marrying her, as these companionships so 
 often end, especially where the man is old, and the woman 
 young, attractive and wily. Mrs. Clavering was poor, and 
 no doubt played for the stake she won. The heir-pre- 
 Bumptive to Sir Ralph's title was his neptew, Edmund
 
 LADY CLA.VERING. 223 
 
 Clavering, but his fortune he could leave to whom he 
 ■would. 
 
 Sir Ralph Clavering died — only about ten days before 
 I\rr. Brightman's own death. The funeral took place on 
 the Tuesday — this very day week of which I am writing. 
 After attending it, Mr. Brightman returned to the office in 
 the evening. The clerks had left, and he came up to my 
 room. 
 
 " Take this off my hat, will you, Charles ? " he said. " I 
 can't go home in it, of course : and Mrs. Brightman has a 
 superstition against hat-scarves going into the house." 
 
 I undid the black silk and laid it on the table. " What 
 am I to do with it, sir ? " 
 
 " Anything. Give it to Leah for a Sunday apron. My 
 lady treated us to a specimen of her temper when the will 
 was read," he added. " She expected to inherit all, and is 
 not satisfied with tlie competency left to her." 
 
 "■ Who does inherit ? " I asked : for Mr. Brightman had 
 never enlightened me, although I knew that he had made 
 Sir Ralph's will. 
 
 " Edmund Clavering. And quite right that he should 
 do so : the estate ought to go with the title. Besides, 
 setting aside that consideration, Sir Edmund is entitled to 
 it quite as much as my lady. More so, I think. There's 
 the will, Charles ; you can read it." 
 
 I glanced over the will, which Mr, Brightman had 
 brought back with him. Lady Clavering had certainly a 
 competency, but the bulk of the property was left to Sir 
 Edmund, the inheritor of the title* I was very much 
 surprised. 
 
 " I thought she would have had it all, Mr. Brightman. 
 Living estranged as Sir Ralph did from his brother, even 
 refusing to be reconciled when the latter was dying, the 
 estrangement extended to the sou, Edmund, and I certainly
 
 224 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 thought Lady Clavering would have come iu for all. You 
 thought so too, sh"." 
 
 " I did, until I made the will. Aud at ouc time it was 
 Sir Ralph's inteution to leave most of it to her. But 
 certain reasons arose, which altered his plans. Sufficient 
 reasons," added Mr. Brightman, in a marked, emphatic 
 manner. " He imparted them to me when he gave instruc- 
 tions for his will. / should have left her less." 
 " May I know them ? " 
 
 " Xo. They were told to me in confidence, and con- 
 cern neither you nor me. Is the gas out in the next 
 room ? " 
 
 " Yes. Shall I light it ? " 
 
 " It is not worth while. That hand-lamp of yours will 
 do. I only want to put up the will." 
 
 I took the lamp, and lighted Mr. Brightman into the 
 front room, his own exclusively. He opened the iron safe, 
 and deposited Sir Ralph Covering's will, to be left there 
 until it should be proved. 
 
 Sir Edmund Clavering, shown up by Leunard himself, 
 came into the room. I had never acted for him ; Mr. 
 Brightman had invariably done so. 
 
 " Can you carry my business through, Mr. Strange ? '^ 
 he asked, after expressing his shock and regret at Mr. 
 Brightman's sudden fate. 
 
 " I hope so. Why not, Sir Edmund ? " 
 " You have not Mr. Brightman's legal knowledge and 
 experience." 
 
 *' Not his experience, certainly ; because he was an old 
 man and I am a young one. But, as far as practice goes, 
 I have for some time had chief control of the business. 
 Mr. Brightman almost confined himself to seeing clients. 
 You may trust me. Sir Edmund." 
 
 "Oh yes,'il dare say it will be all right," he rejoined.
 
 LADY CLAVERING. ho 
 
 zz^ 
 
 " Do you know that Lady Clavcriiig and her cousin John— 
 my cousin also — mean to dispute the will ? " 
 
 " Upon what grounds ? " 
 
 " Upon Sir Ralph's incompetency to make one, I snpposc 
 ■ — as foul a plea as false woman or man ever invented. 
 
 Mr. Brightman can prove Good heavens ! every 
 
 moment I forget that he is dead," broke off 8ir Edmund; 
 *' How unfortunate that he should have gone just now ! " 
 
 " But there cannot fail to be ample proof of Sir Ralph's 
 competency. The servants about him must know that he 
 was of sane mind." 
 
 " I don't know Avhat her schemes may be," rejoined Sir 
 Edmund ; " but I do know that she will not leave a stone 
 unturned to wrest my rights from me. I am more bitter 
 than gall and wormwood to her." 
 
 " Because you have inherited most of the money ? " 
 
 " Ay, for one thing. But there's another reason, more 
 galling to her even than that." 
 
 Sir Edmund looked at me with a peculiar expression. 
 He was about my own age, and would have been exceed- 
 ingly pleasant but for his pride. AYhen he could so fat 
 forget that as to throw it off, he was warm and cordial. 
 
 " Her ladyship is a scheming woman, Mr. Strange. She 
 flnng off into a fit of resentment at first, which Mr. Bright- 
 man witnessed, but very shortly her tactics changed. 
 Before Sir Ralph had been three days in his grave, she 
 contrived to intimate to me that we had better join 
 interests. Do you understand ? " 
 
 I did not know whether to understand or not. It was 
 inconceivable. 
 
 " And I feel ashamed to enlighten you," said Sir Edmund. 
 " She offered herself to me ; my willing wife. ' If you will 
 
 wed no ether woman, I will wed no other man ' How 
 
 runs the old ballad ? Not in so many words, but in terms 
 
 Q
 
 226 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 sufficiently plaiu to be deciphered. I answered as plainly, 
 and declined. Declined to join interests — declined her — 
 and so made her my mortal enemy for ever. Do you know 
 her ? " 
 
 *' I never saw her." 
 
 *' Take care of yourself, then, should you be brought into 
 contact with her," laughed Sir Edmund, " She is a very 
 Jezebel. All the same, she is one of the most fascinating 
 of women : irresistibly so, no doubt, to many people. Had 
 she been any but my uncle's wife — widow — I don't know 
 how it might have gone with me. By the way, Mr. 
 Strange, did Mr. Brightman impart to you Sir Ralph's 
 reason for devising his property to me ? He had always 
 said, you know, that he would not do it. Mr. Brightman 
 would not tell me the reason for the change." 
 
 "N"o, he did not. Sir Ralph intended, I believe, to 
 bequeath most of it to his wife, and altered his mind quite 
 suddenly. So much Mr. Brightman told me." 
 
 " Found out Jezebel, perhaps, at some trick or other." 
 
 That I thought all too likely, but did not say so. Sir 
 Edmund continued to speak a little longer upon business 
 matters, and then rose. 
 
 "The will had better be proved without delay," he 
 paused to say. 
 
 " I will see about it the first thing next week. Sir 
 Edmuud. It Avould have been done this week but for Mr. 
 Brightman's unexjiected death." 
 
 " Why do you whisper ? " asked Sir Edmund, as we were 
 quitting the room. " Do you fear eaves-droppers ? " 
 
 I was not conscious that 1 whispered until recalled to 
 the fact. " Every time I approach this door," I said, 
 pointing to the one opening into the other room, " I feel 
 as if I were in the presence of the dead. He is still lying 
 there."
 
 LADY CLAVEfelNG. 227 
 
 ''What— Mr. Brightmau ? " 
 
 " It is where he died. He will be removed to Jiis late 
 residence to-night." 
 
 " I think I will see him," cried Sir Edmund, laying his 
 hand on the door. 
 
 "As you please. I would nob advise you." And he 
 apparently thought better of it, and went down. 
 
 I had to attend the Vice-Chancellor's Court ; law business 
 goes on without respect to the dead. Upon my return in 
 the afternoon, I was in the front office, speaking to Lennard, 
 when a carriage drove down the street, and stopped at the 
 door. Our blinds were down, but one of the clerks peeped 
 out. A gentleman's chariot, painted black," he announced : 
 " the servants in deep mourning." 
 
 Allen went out and brought back a card. "The lady 
 wishes to see you, sir." 
 
 I glanced at it — " Lady Clavering." And an involuntary 
 smile crossed my face, at the remembrance of Sir Edmund's 
 caution, should I ever be brought into contact withher. But 
 what could Lady Clavering want with me ? 
 
 She was conducted upstairs, and I followed, leaving my 
 business with Lennard until afterwards. She Avas already 
 seated in the very chair that, not two hours ago, had held 
 her opponent. Sir Edmund ; a very handsome woman, 
 dressed as coquettishly as her widow's weeds allowed. Her 
 face was beautiful as to form and colouring, but its free 
 and vain expression spoiled it. Every glance of her coal- 
 black eye, every movement of her head and hands, every 
 word that fell from her lips, was a purposed display of hei' 
 charms, a demand for admiration. Sir Edmund need not 
 have cautioned me to keep heart-whole. One so vain and 
 foolish would repel rather than attract me, even though 
 gifted with beauty rarely accorded to woman. A Jezebel ? 
 Yes, I agreed with him — a very Jezebel.
 
 228 THE STORY OF CHAPvLES STRANGE. 
 
 " I have the honour of speaking to Mr. Strange ? Charles 
 Strange,^ as I have heard Mr. Brightmau call you," she said, 
 ■with a smile of fascination. 
 
 " Yes, I am Charles Strange. What can I do for you, 
 madam ? " 
 
 ""Will you promise to do what I have come to ask 
 you ? " 
 
 The more she spoke, the less I liked her. I am naturally 
 frank in manner, but I grew reserved with her. " I can- 
 not make a promise without knowing its nature, Lady 
 Clavering." 
 
 She picked up her long jet chain, and twirled it about 
 in her fingers. "What a frightfully sudden death Mr, 
 Brightman's has been ! " she resumed. " Did he lie ill 
 at all ? " 
 
 " No. He died suddenly, as he was sitting at his desk. 
 And to render it still more painful, no one was with 
 him." 
 
 " I read the account in this morning's paper, and came 
 up at once to see you," resumed Lady Clavering. " He 
 was' my husband's confidential adviser. Were you in his 
 confidence also ? " 
 
 I presumed that she meant Mr. Brightman's, and 
 answered accordingly. " Partially so." 
 
 "You are aware how very unjustly my poor childish 
 liusband strove to will away his property. Of course the 
 will cannot be allowed to stand. At the time of Sir 
 Ralph's funeral, I informed Mr. Brightman that I should 
 take some steps to assert my rights, and I wished him to 
 be my solicitor in the matter. But no ; he refused, and 
 went over to the enemy, Edmund Clavering." 
 
 " AVe were solicitors to Edmund Clavering before he 
 came into the title." 
 
 " Mr. Brightman was ; you never did anything for him,"
 
 LADY CLAVERING. 220 
 
 she hastily interrupted ; " therefore no obligation can lie 
 on you to act for him now. I want you to act for me, and 
 I have come all this way to request you to do so." 
 
 " I cannot do so, Lady Clavering. I have seen Sir 
 Edmund since Mr. Brightman's death, and have undertaken 
 to carry on his business." 
 
 She threw herself back in her chair, and looked at me 
 from under her vain eyelids. " Leave him, Mr. Strange ; 
 you can easily make an excuse, if you will. Mr. Brightman 
 held all my husband's papers, knew all about his property, 
 and no one is so fitted to act for me as you, his partner. 
 I will make it worth your while." 
 
 ""What you suggest is impossible. Lady Claverlng. "We 
 are enlisted in the interests — I speak professionally — of the 
 other side, and have already advised with Sir Edmund as 
 to the steps to be taken in the suit you purpose to enter 
 against him. To leave him for you, after dohig so, would 
 be dishonourable and impossible." 
 
 She shot another glance at me from those mischievous 
 eyes. " I will make it well worth your while, I repeat, 
 Mr. Strange." 
 
 I could look mischievous too, if I i»leased ; perhaps did 
 on occasion ; but she could read nothing in my gaze then, 
 as it met hers, that was not sober as old Time. 
 
 " I can only repeat my answer. Lady Clavering." 
 
 Not a word spoke she ; only made play with her eyes. 
 Bid the woman mean to subdue me ? Her gaze dropped. 
 
 " I have heard Mr. Brightman speak of Charles Strange 
 not only as a thorough lawyer, but as a fjentleman — xary 
 fond of the world's vanities." 
 
 " Xot very fond, Lady Clavering. Joining in them 
 occasionally, in proper time and place." 
 
 " I met you once at a large evening party. It was at 
 old Jud^e Tartar's," she ran on.
 
 230 THE STORY OP CHATtLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Indeed ! " I answered, not remembering it. 
 " It was before I married Sir Ealph, You came in with 
 your relative, Serjeant Stillingfar— a charming man ! I 
 heard you tell some one you had just come down from 
 Oxford. Won't you act for me, Mr. Strange ? " 
 " Indeed it does not lie in my power." 
 " "Well, I did not think a gentleman "--—with another 
 stress upon the word—" would have refused to act on my 
 behalf." 
 
 "Lady Clavering must perceive that I have no 
 alternative." 
 
 " Who is Edmund Clavering that he should be preferred 
 to me ? " she demanded with some vehemence. 
 
 "Nay, Lady Clavering, circumstances compel the pre- 
 ference." 
 
 A silence ensued, and I glanced at my watch — the lawyer's 
 hint. She did not take it. 
 
 " Can you tell me whether, amidst the papers Mr. Bright- 
 man held belonging to Sir Ealph, there are any letters of 
 mine ? " 
 
 " I cannot say." 
 
 " Some of my letters, to Sir Ralph and others, are miss- 
 ing, and I think they must have got amongst the papers by 
 mistake. Will you look ? " 
 
 " I will take an early opportunity of doing so." 
 " Oh, but I mean now. I want them. Why cannot you 
 search now ? " 
 
 I did not tell her why. In the first place, most of the 
 Clavering papers were in the room where Mr. Brightman 
 was lying — and there were other reasons also, 
 
 " I cannot spare the time, Lady Clavering : I have an 
 appointment out of doors which I must keep. I will search 
 for you in a day or two. But should any letters of yours 
 Ipe here— of which I assure you I am ignorant— you will
 
 LADY CLAVERING. 23X 
 
 pardon my intimatinG^ that it may not be expedient to give 
 them up." 
 
 " What do you mean ? Why not ? " 
 
 " Should they bear at all upon the cause at issue between 
 you and Sir Edmund Clavering " 
 
 " But they don't," she interrupted. 
 
 "Then, if they do not, I shall be hapjDy to enclose them 
 to you." 
 
 " It is of the utmost consequence to me that I should 
 regain possession of them," she said, with suppressed 
 agitation. 
 
 " And, if possible, you shall do so." I rose as I spoke, 
 and waited for her to rise. She did so, but advanced to 
 the window and pulled the blind aside. 
 
 " My carriage is not back yet, Mr. Strange. A friend 
 who came up with me has gone to do a commission for 
 herself. It will be here in a few minutes. I suppose I 
 can wait." 
 
 I begged her to remain as long as she pleased, but to 
 excuse me, for I was already behind time. She drew up 
 the blind a little and sat down at the window as I left her. 
 
 After giving some directions to Lennard, I hastened to 
 keep my appointment, which was at the Temple with a 
 chamber-counsel. 
 
 The interview lasted about twenty minutes. As I turned 
 into Essex Street again, Lady Clavering's carriage was 
 bowling up it. I raised my hat, and she bowed to me, 
 leaning before another lady, who sat with her, but she 
 looked white and fria-htened. What had taken her brilliant 
 colour ? At the door, when I reached it, stood the clerks, 
 Lennard amongst them, some with a laugh on their counte- 
 nances, some looking as white and scared as Lady Clavering. 
 
 " Why, what is thi^ ? " I exclaimed. 
 
 They went back to their desks, and Lennard explained.
 
 232 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRAKGE. 
 
 "You must have seen Lady Clavering's carriage," he 
 began. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Just before it came for her, cries and shrieks were heard 
 above ; startUng shrieks, terrifying us all. We hastened up 
 with one accord, and found that Lady Clavering " 
 
 " Well ? " I impatiently cried, looking at Lennard. 
 
 " Had gone into the next room, and seen Mr. Bright- 
 man," he said. " It took two of us to hold her, and it 
 ended with hysterics. Leah came flying from the kitchen, 
 took off her bonnet, and brought some water." 
 
 I was sorry to hear it ; sorry that any woman should 
 have been exposed to so unpleasant a fright. " But it was 
 her own fault," I said to Lennard. " How could she think 
 of entering a room of which the door was locked ? " 
 
 " What right had she to attempt to enter it at all, locked 
 or unlocked ? I should say," returned Lennard, severely. 
 " And tlie best of it was, she laid the blame upon us, asking 
 what business we had to put dead people into public 
 rooms," 
 
 " She is a curious sort of woman, I fancy, Lennard." 
 
 And the more I thought of her, the more curious I found 
 her. The door between the two rooms had been locked, 
 and the key was lying in the corner of the mantelpiece. 
 Lady Clavering must have searched for the key before she 
 could open the door and enter tlie room. 
 
 With what motive had she entered it .''
 
 ( 233 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE MISSIXCt will. 
 
 Mr. Brightman was buried on the Thursday, and Mr. 
 Serjeant StilHugfar came up from circuit for the funeral. 
 Three or four other gentlemen attended, and myself. It 
 was all done very quietly. After that the will was read. 
 
 He had not left as much money as might have been 
 expected. I suppose the rate at which they lived had 
 absorbed it. Nearly the whole of it was vested in trustees, 
 who would pay the interest to IMrs. Brightman until her 
 death, when it would all descend unconditionally to Annabel. 
 If she married again, one-half the yearly income at once 
 went to Annabel. To my surprise, I was left executor. 
 'My. Brightman had never told me this. Of the two 
 executors originally appointed — for the will had been made 
 many years — one had recently died, and Mr. Brightman 
 had inserted my name in his place. That all the work 
 would fall upon my shoulders I knew, for the otht.'r executor 
 had become a confirmed invalid. 
 
 AYith regard to our own articles of partnership, provided 
 for by a recent codicil, they were very much iu my favour, 
 though somewhat peculiar. If 'Sir. Brightman died before 
 I was thirty years of age, two-thirds of the net profits of 
 the business were to be paid to Mrs. Brightman for three 
 years ; but if I had passed my thirtieth year when he died, 
 only half the profits would go to her. After the first three
 
 234 THE STORY OF CHAELES STRANGE. 
 
 years, one-third of the profits would be hers for three years 
 more ; and then all would revert to me absolutely. 
 
 I wanted some years yet of thirty. Bnt it was an ex- 
 cellent and lucrative practice. Fe\v men fall into so good 
 a thing when still young. 
 
 " So there you are, Charles, the head of one of the best 
 professional houses in London," remarked my uncle Stil- 
 lingfar, as he took my arm when we were leaving the house. 
 " Rather different from what your fate might have been, 
 Lad you carried out your wish of going to the Bar. My 
 boy, you may be thankful that you know nothing of the 
 struggles I had to go through," 
 
 The sad week passed away. On the following Monday 
 I set to professional business in earnest : the previous week 
 had been much given to matters not professional. One of 
 the first things to be attended to was to prove the will of Sir 
 Ralph Clavering, and, in the course of the morning, I un- 
 locked the iron safe in the front room to get it. Xothing 
 was ever placed in that safe but wills and title-deeds, and 
 these were never placed anywhere else. But where this par- 
 ticular will was hiding itself, I could not tell, for I turned 
 over every paper the place contained without coming to it. 
 
 Sir Ralph's will was not there. 
 
 Was I awake or dreaming ? Was there a fairy in the 
 house to remove things, or was the place bewitched ? — or 
 what was it ? I went and examined the Clavering papers, 
 which were in Mr. Brightman's desk in the adjoining room, 
 but the will was not amongst them. I searched other 
 drawers and desks in vain. Then I called up Lenuard. 
 
 " Do you know anything of Sir Ralph Clavering's will ? 
 I cannot find it." 
 
 " It nmst be in the safe," he replied. 
 
 " It is not in the safe. Lenuard, this is very strange : 
 first the money, and now the will."
 
 TnE MISSING WILL. 235 
 
 " Oh, but it cannot be," returned Lennard, after a pause. 
 " That the money went, appears to be too plain, but who 
 would take a will? Money might be a temptation, if 
 any stranger entered Mr. Brightman's room that night, 
 but " 
 
 " It has been proved almost beyond doubt that no one 
 entered, and yet the money went. Lennard, there's some- 
 thing not canny about the house, as the Scotch say." 
 
 Lennard's face had turned grave. " This is very ex- 
 traordinary ! " he exclaimed. " Mr. Brightman would not 
 put it anywhere else." 
 
 " He never put a will up in any other place than this 
 since I have been with him ; and I myself saw him put it 
 in ; held the light for him : it was in the evening of last 
 Tuesday week, after he came back from Sir Ralph's funeral. 
 It has gone after the money." 
 
 " No, no," he cried, almost in agitation ; " it has not, it 
 has not : I will never believe it." 
 
 One slight hope came to me. Mr. Brightman might have 
 given it to Sir Edmund Clavering. But then Sir Edmund 
 would surely have said so when speaking to me about prov- 
 ing the will. 1'hc loss of the money was nothing to this, for 
 that had been easily replaced, and there was an end of the 
 matter ; but this loss could not be replaced, and there was 
 no knowing what the end would be : little short of ruin to 
 Sir Edmund Clavering, and nothing short of ruin to me : 
 for who would continue to employ a firm to lose wills ? 
 
 I was much occupied that day, but the missing will lay 
 upon me as a nightmare, and I forced time to dash up to Sir 
 Edmund Clavering's hotel in the afternoon, bribing the 
 cabman to double speed. By good luck, I found him in, 
 and inquired if he held the will. 
 
 "No," he replied. "Mr. Brightman took it home with 
 him after Sir Ralph's funeral. I have not seen it since."
 
 236 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " I know he brought it home ; but I thought it possible 
 he might since then have given it into your possession. I 
 lioped he had, for I cannot iind the will, though I have 
 searched everywhere." 
 
 " Not find it ! " he echoed. " Perhaps you have looked 
 in every place but the right one," with a slight laugh. '• I 
 can tell you where it is." 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " In the iron safe in Mr. Brightman's room." 
 " It was placed there, but it is not there now. May I 
 ask how you knew it was there, Sir Edmund ? " 
 
 " Because on the day but one following the funeral I came 
 to town and had an interview with Mr. Brightman. It 
 was on the Thursday. Perhaps you remember that I was 
 with him that day ? " 
 " Quite well." 
 
 " During our consultation we differed in opinion as to a 
 certain clause in the will, and Mr. Brightman took it out of 
 the safe to convince me. He was right, and I was wrong ; 
 as, indeed, I might have known, considering that he had 
 made the will. He put it back into the safe at once and 
 locked it up. When are you going to prove the will ? It 
 ought to be done now." 
 
 " I was going to set about it this very day ; but, as I say, 
 I cannot find the will." 
 
 Sir Edmund Clavering was determined to treat the 
 matter lightly : he evidently attached no importance to it 
 whatever, believing that Mr. Brightman had only changed 
 its place. 
 
 I went home again, feeling as uncomfortable as I had 
 ever felt in my life. An undefined idea, a doubt, had 
 flashed into my mind whilst I had been talking to Lennard. 
 It now grew into suspicion. 
 
 TiOt me explain how I arrived at this suspicion. When
 
 THE MISSING WILL. 237 
 
 1 found the will liad disappeared from the safe — Avlieu 1 
 searched and searched in vain — I could only come to the 
 conclusion that it had been stolen. But why ? From what 
 motive ? Why should that one particular parchment be 
 taken, and the others left ? Obviously, it could only 
 have been from interested motives. Now, who had an 
 interest in getting possession of the will — so that it might 
 not be proved and acted upon ? Only one person in the 
 whole world — Lady Clavering. And Lady Clavering had 
 been alone in the room where the safe was for nearly half 
 an hour. 
 
 If she had obtained possession of the will, there was 
 farewell to our ever getting it again. I saw through her 
 character at that first interview : she was a woman absolutely 
 without scruple. 
 
 But how could she have got at it ? Even supposing 
 she knew the will was in the iron safe, she could not have 
 opened it without the key ; and how could she have obtained 
 the key ? 
 
 Again — if Lady Clavering were the guilty party, what 
 became of my very natural suspicions that the will and the 
 gold were both taken by the same hand ? TiOok at it as I , 
 would, perplexities arose ; points difficult, if not impossible, 
 to reconcile. 
 
 Lennard met me in the passage on my return. " Is it all 
 right ? Has Sir Edmund got the will, sir ? " 
 
 " Xo, no ; I told you it was a forlorn hoi^c. Come 
 upstairs, Lennard. Sir Edmund has not the will," I con- 
 tinued, as we entered the front room. " lie says that when 
 he was here last Thursday week, ]\Ir. Brightman had occasion 
 to refer to the will, took it from the safe, and put it back 
 again. Therefore it is since then that the theft has taken 
 place." 
 
 " Must we then really look upon it as stolen ? " cried
 
 S38 THE Story of charles strange. 
 
 Leunard. "Who would steal so valueless a thing as a 
 will ? " 
 
 " Xot valueless to every one." 
 
 " You have a suspicion, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have." 
 
 He began to pace the room. Leuuard was, in truth, 
 completely upset by this loss. " Of whom ? " he presently 
 asked. 
 
 " To all persons, two excepted, the will would be useless. 
 One of those two is Sir Edmund ; and he has it not : the 
 other is Lady Clavering." 
 
 " But surely you cannot suspect Lady Clavering ! " 
 
 " To say that I suspect her would perhaps be too strong a 
 word. If my doubt rests upon her at all, it is because she 
 is the only person who could have an interest in getting 
 possession of the will ; and she is the only stranger, as far 
 as I can recollect, who has been alone in this room suf- 
 ficiently long to take it from the safe." 
 
 Lennard was incredulous, " But she had not the key of 
 the safe. She could not have opened it without it." 
 
 " I know — I see the improbabilities of my suspicion, but 
 can think of nothing else." 
 
 " What mystery has come over the house, about keys, and 
 locks, and things disappearing ? " Lennard murmured, as a 
 man bewildered. 
 
 " Lennard, it is the very question I am asking myself," 
 
 A man has rarely been placed in a more disagreeable 
 predicament than I felt to be in then. It was of no use 
 temporizing with the matter : I could only meet it boldly, 
 and I sent that evening for Sir Edmund Clavering, and 
 laid it before him. I told him of Lady Clavering's visit, 
 and hinted at the doubt which had forced itself on my 
 mind. Sir Edmund jumped to the conclusion (and into a 
 passion at the same time) that she was the culprit, and
 
 ^'HE MISSING WILL. 239 
 
 declared he would apply for a warrant at Bow Street on the 
 morrow, to take her into custody. With extreme diffi^ 
 culty I got him to hear reason against anything of the 
 sort. 
 
 Lennard, who had remained, came round to Sir 
 Edmund's opinion that it must inevitably have been Lady 
 Clavering. Failing her, no shadow of suspicion could 
 attach itself to any one, sift and search into the matter as 
 we would. 
 
 "But neither was there as to the money," was my 
 rejoinder. 
 
 Then after they were gone, and I sat by the fire in the 
 front room, and went over the details dispassionately and 
 carefully, and lay awake the best part of the night, going 
 over them still, my suspicions of Lady Clavering lessened, 
 and I arrived at the conclusion that they were too im- 
 probable to be well founded. 
 
 Nevertheless, I intended to pursue the course I had 
 decided on : and that was to call upon her. She, like Sir 
 Edmund, was now staying in London, at an hotel. Not to 
 accuse her, but to see if I could not indirectly make out 
 something that would confirm my suspicion. 
 
 I went up in the course of the morning. Lady Clavering 
 was sitting alone, her widow's cap on the sofa beside her. 
 She hurried it on to her head, when the waiter aimouuced 
 ma 
 
 " It is so hot and ugly," she exclaimed, in excuse, " 1 
 sit without it when I am alone. So you have condescended 
 to return my visit, j\lr. Strange. I thought you gentlemen 
 of the law took refuge iu your plea of occupation to ignore 
 etiquette." 
 
 "It is not in deference to etiquette that I have called 
 upon you to-day, Lady Clavering, but " 
 
 " You have thought better of your refusal, aud have
 
 240 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 come to say you will undertake my business ! " she inter- 
 rupted, eyes and looks full of eagerness. 
 
 " Nor yet that," I was forced to reply, though, in truthj 
 I should have been glad to conciliate her. " The day you 
 were at our house, did you happen to see— — " 
 
 " Mr. Strange, I must beg you as a gentleman not to 
 allude to what I saw," she interposed, in tones of alarm. 
 " I think it was inexcusable on your part not to have 
 informed me what Avas in the next room." 
 
 " Pardon me. Lady Clavering ; it would have been an 
 unnecessary and unpleasant piece of information to volun- 
 teer : for how could I possibly foresee that you would enter 
 that room ,'' " 
 
 " I never saw a dead person in my life," she rejoined ; 
 " not even my husband ; and I shall not easily recover 
 from the shock. I would give anything rather than have 
 been exposed to it." 
 
 " And so would I, and I shall always regret it," was my 
 warm apology. 
 
 " Then why do you introduce the subject ? " 
 
 " I did not intend to allude to that ; but to your having 
 sat in the front room I must allude ; and I know you will 
 excuse my asking you the question I am about to put. 
 Did you happen to see a parchment lying in that front 
 room ? We have missed one : and if you chanced to 
 notice it, it would be a great assistance to us, as a proof 
 that we need not carry our researches further back than 
 that day." 
 
 " I don't remember that I saw any parchment," she 
 carelessly rejoined. " I saw some papers tied round with 
 l)ink tape on the table ; I did not notice them particularly. 
 I pray you not to make me think about that afternoon, or 
 you will have me in hysterics again." 
 
 " It is not possible that it can have caught your dress
 
 THE MISSING WILL. 241 
 
 in any way, and so have been carried downstairs and out 
 of the honse, and — perhaps — lost in tlie street ? " I per- 
 sisted slowly, looking at her. 
 
 Bnt I could detect no emotion on her face ; no drooping 
 of the eyelid ; no rise or fall of colour, such as one guilty 
 would have been likely to display. She appeared to take 
 my question literally, and to see nothing beyond it. 
 
 "I cannot tell anything about it, Mr. Strange. Had 
 my dress been covered with parchments, I was in too much 
 terror to notice them. Your clerks would be more able 
 to answer you than I, for they had to assist me down to 
 my carriage. Bnt how should a parchment become attached 
 to a lady's dress ? " she added, shaking out the folds of her 
 ample skirts. "The crape is quite soft, you perceive. 
 Say no more about it, Mr. Strange. I cannot bear to think 
 of that day. You will take a glass of wine ? Now don't 
 say no. Why can't you be sociable ? " 
 
 " Not any, thank you," I answered with a laugh. " We 
 lawyers have to keep our heads clear, Lady Clavering : we 
 should not do that if we took wine in the daytime." 
 
 "Sit still, pray. You have scarcely been here five 
 minutes. I want to speak to you, too, upon a matter of 
 business." 
 
 So I resumed my seat, and waited. She was looking at 
 me very earnestly. 
 
 " It is about those missing letters of mine. Have you 
 searched for them, Mr. Strange ? " 
 
 " Partially. I do not think we hold any. There are 
 none amongst the Clavering papers." 
 
 " Why do you say ' partially ' ? " she questioned. 
 
 " I have not had time to search amongst the letters in 
 Mr. Brightman's cupboards and places. Bnt I think if 
 there were any of yours in our possession they would have 
 been with the Clavering papers." 
 
 B
 
 242 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Her gaze again sought mine for a moment, and then 
 faded to vacancy. " I wonder if he burnt them ? " she 
 .dreamily uttered. 
 
 " Who ? Mr. Brightman ? " 
 
 " No ; my husband. You must look everywhere, Mr. 
 Strange. If those letters are in existence, I must have 
 them. You will look ? " 
 
 " Certainly I will." 
 ' " I shall remain in town until I hear from you. You 
 ii'iU go, then ! " 
 
 " One more question ere I do go, Lady Clavering. 
 Have you positively no recollection of seeing this lost 
 parchment ? " 
 
 She looked surprised at my pertinacity. " If I had, I 
 should say so. I do not think I saw anything of the sort. 
 But if I had seen it, the subsequent terror would have 
 taken it quite out of my memory." 
 
 So I Avished her good-morning and departed. " It is 
 not Lady Clavering," I exclaimed to Lennard, when I 
 reached home. 
 
 " Are you sure of that, Mr. Strange ? " 
 
 " I think so. I judge by her manner : it is only con- 
 sistent with perfect innocence. In truth, Lennard, I begin 
 to see that I was foolish to have doubted her at all, the 
 circumstances surrounding it are so intensely improbable." 
 
 And yet, even while I spoke, suspicion crept into my 
 mind again, So prone to iuconsifstcncy is the human 
 heart.
 
 { 213 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 ANNABEL. 
 
 Most men liave their romance in life sooner or later. 
 Mine had come in dne course, and she who made it for me 
 was Annabel Brightman. 
 
 After my first meeting with her, when she was a child 
 of fourteen, and I not much more than a lad of twenty, 
 I had continued to see her from time to time, for Mr. 
 Brightman's first invitation to me was only the prelude 
 to others. I watched her grow up into a good, unaffected 
 woman, lovable and charming as she was when a child. 
 Childhood had passed away now, and thought and gentle- 
 ness had taken its place ; and to my eyes and heart 
 no other girl in the world could compare with Annabel 
 Brightman. 
 
 Her father suspected it. Had he lived only a little 
 longer, he would have learned it beyond doubt, for I should 
 have spoken out more fully upon the matter. 
 
 A little less than a year before his death — it was on a 
 Good Friday — I was spending the day at his house, and 
 was in the garden with Annabel. She had taken my arm, 
 and we were pacing the broad walk to the left of the lawn, 
 thinking only of ourselves, when, raising my eyes, I saw 
 ]\Ir. Brightman looking attentively at us from one of the 
 French windows. He beckoned to me, and I Avent in. 
 
 " Charles," said he, when I had stepped inside, " no
 
 244 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 nonsense. You and Annabel are too young for anything 
 of that sort." 
 
 I felt that his eyes were full upon me as I stood before 
 him, and my face flushed to the roots of my hair. But 
 I took courage to ask a question. 
 
 " Sir, every year passing over our heads will lessen that 
 objection. Would there be any other ? " 
 
 " Time enough to talk of these things when the years 
 shall have passed. You are too young for them, I say." 
 
 " I am twenty-five, sir ; and Miss Brightman " 
 
 "Twenty-five?" he interrupted. "I was past forty 
 when I thought of marriage. You must not turn Annabel's 
 head with visions of what the years may bring forth, for if 
 you do I will not have you here. Leave that to the future." 
 
 But there was sufficient in Mr. Brightman's manner to 
 prove that he had not been blind to the attachment spring- 
 ing up between us, and undoubtedly regarded me as the 
 possible future husband of his daughter. At any rate he 
 continued to invite me to his house. During the past year 
 Annabel had been a great deal at Hastings with Miss 
 Brightman ; I wondered that her father and mother would 
 spare her so much. 
 
 But Annabel knew nothing of that conversation, and 
 I had never yet spoken of love to her. And now Mr. 
 Brightman, who would, or at least might, have sanctioned 
 it, was gone ; and Mrs. Brightman, who would certainly, 
 as I believed, oppose it, remained. 
 
 In the days immediately following Mr, Brightman's 
 death, I was overwhelmed with business. Apart from the 
 additional work that naturally fell upon me — his share as 
 well as mine — no end of clients came pouring in ; and for 
 no earthly purpose, that I could see, excepting curiosity. 
 Besides this, there was the search for Sir Ralph Clavering's 
 will, and the anxiety its loss entailed on me.
 
 ANNABEL. 24S 
 
 Ou the Wednesday afternoon, just as I had got rid of 
 two clients, Lennard came up with the news that some one 
 else was there. I was then in the front room, seated at 
 Mr. Brightman's desk. Too impatient to hear him out, 
 I said I could see no one ; could not, and would not. 
 
 "It is Miss Annabel Brightman," rejoined Lennard 
 quietly. 
 
 " Miss Annabel Brightman ? Oh, that's very different ; 
 I will see her." 
 
 Annabel came in, throwing back her crape veil. She had 
 driven up alone in the carriage to bring me a message from 
 her mother. Mrs. Brightman had made an appointment 
 with me for that evening at her house ; she had now sent 
 to tell me not to keep it, as she was not well enough to 
 attend to business. 
 
 " Mamma wishes you to come to-morrow instead of to- 
 day ; early in the afternoon," added Annabel. 
 
 That would be impossible, and I said so ; my engage- 
 ments would not at present permit me to give up an 
 afternoon. 
 
 " Perhaps to-morrow evening will do," I suggested. " In 
 fact it must do, Annabel. I don't know when I shall have 
 leisure to come down to you in the daytime." 
 
 " I dare say it will do," assented Annabel. " At any 
 rate, you can come to us. If mamma is not able to enter 
 into business matters, another time can be appointed." 
 
 " Is your mother so very ill ? " 
 
 " Sometimes I think so — but she fluctuates," replied 
 Annabel. " She is extremely weak, and her spirits are 
 depressed. She will pass whole hours shut up in her room 
 in solitude. When I ask to go in. Hatch brings out a 
 message that mamma is not able to see even me." 
 
 " Her illness must be on the nerves." 
 
 "I suppose so» Yesterday she came dowii and walked
 
 246 THE STOHY OF CHAELER STRANGE. 
 
 ^viLll me iu the garden iu the sunshine. She seemed pretty 
 tvell then, but not strong. In the evening she shut herself 
 t]) again;" 
 
 " I wish jOn would sit down, Annabel," 1 said, offering 
 lier a chair for the third time. 
 
 " I would if I could stay. Mamma charged me to gO 
 straight back after leaving the message with you. Are 
 you well ? " she continued with hesitation. " You look 
 harassed." 
 
 " I am well, Annabel. But you haVe used the right word 
 — I am harassed ; terribly so." 
 
 " Poor papa ! " she sighed. " It has brought a world of 
 work and care upon you, as well as of grief to us." 
 
 " I should not mind work. But — we have had another 
 loss. A loss as mysterious as that of the gold ; and far 
 more important." 
 
 *' What is it ? " she asked. " More money ? " 
 
 " No ; I wish it were. A will, deposited in that safe, has 
 disappeared. I cannot even guess at the consequences ; 
 ruin probably to me and to one of our best clients. Not 
 only that. If things are to vanish so unaccountably from 
 our strongholds, we must have an enemy at work, and it is 
 impossible to foresee where it may end." 
 
 " How very strange ! What was the will like ? I mean, 
 what did it look like ? I have a reason for asking you." 
 
 " It was a folded parchmento You saw your father's 
 will, Annabel : it looked very much like that. Why do 
 you ask ? " 
 
 " Because I remember papa's bringing home a parchment 
 exactly like the one you describe. It Avas an evening oi' 
 two before he died : the evening before I and mamma went 
 to Hastings. We, left on Saturday, so it must have been 
 Fridiiy. Do you think it could be the missing will ? " 
 
 " Oh no. I have known Mw Brightman — though very
 
 ANNABEL. 247 
 
 rarely — take home deeds Avbich required studying ; but lie 
 was not likely to take home Sir Ealph Clavering's will. 
 He made it himself, and knew every word it contained. 
 Annabel, I did not intend to mention the name, but it will 
 be safe with you." 
 
 " Perfectly so ; as safe as with yourself. I will not 
 repeat it, even to mamma." 
 
 "And what I shall do I cannot tell," I concluded, as 
 I attended her to the carriage. " I would give every 
 shilling I possess to find it." 
 
 ]\Iore work, and then the afternoon came to an end, and 
 after dinner I was at liberty to enjoy a little rest. I had 
 taken to the front room as my sitting-room, and should 
 speedily remove the desk and iron safe into the other, 
 making that exclusively a business-room, and seeing clients 
 in it. Drawing up to the clear, blazing fire, my reading- 
 lamp lighted, I took up the newspaper. But for such habits 
 of order and self-denying, I should never have attained the 
 position I enjoyed. One of those rules was, never to read 
 the Times or any wo'.k of relaxation until my work was 
 over for the day. I c 3uld then enjoy my paper and cigar, 
 and feel that) I had eai ned both. 
 
 I took up the Tinm^ and almost the very first paragraph 
 my eye fell upon was ( he following : 
 
 "We hcfi- that tli;; convict ship Vengeanco, after en- 
 countering stormy woather and contrary winds on her 
 passage out, has been vrecked upon an uninhabited island. 
 It is said thit some olc the convicts have escaped." 
 
 I started up almosl as though I had been shot. Tom 
 Ileriot had gone out in the Vengeance : was he one of those 
 who had escaped ? If so, where was he, and what would 
 be his ultimate fate ? 
 
 The ship had sailed from our shores in August ; this was 
 February : therefore the reader may think that the news
 
 248 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 had been long enough in reaching England. But it must 
 be remembered that sailing-vessels were at the mercy of 
 winds and waves, and in those days telegrams and cable- 
 grams had not been invented. 
 
 Throwing my cigar into the fire and the newspaper on 
 the table, I fell into an unpleasant reverie. My lucky star 
 did not seem in the ascendant just now. Mr. Brightman's 
 unhappy death ; this fresh uncertainty about Tom Heriot ; 
 the certain loss of the money, and the disappearance of the 
 will 
 
 A ring at the visitors' bell aroused me. I listened, as 
 Leah opened the door, curious to know who could be 
 coming after office hours, unless it was Sir Edmund 
 Clavering. Lake was in the country. 
 
 " Is Mr. Strange in, Leah ? " And the sound of the 
 sweet voice set my heart beating. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am. Please go up." 
 
 A light foot on the stairs, and Annabel entered, holding 
 up a parchment with its endorsement towards me. " Will 
 of Sir Ralph Clavering." 
 
 " Oh, Annabel ! you are my guardian angel ! " 
 
 I seized the deed and her hands together. She smiled, 
 and drew away the latter. 
 
 " I still thought the parchment I spoke of might be the 
 missing one," she explained, "and when I got home I 
 looked in papa's secretaire. There it was." 
 
 " And you have come back to bring it to me ! " 
 
 " Of course I have. It would have been cruel to let you 
 pass another night of suspense. I came as soon as I had 
 dined." 
 
 " Who is with you ? " 
 
 " No one ; I came in by the omnibus. In two omnibuses 
 really, for the first only brought me to Charing Cross." 
 
 " You came in by omnibus 1 And alone ? "
 
 ANNABEL. 249 
 
 " Why not ? Who was to know mc, or what could hanai 
 mc ? I kept my veil down. I would not order the carriage 
 out again, for it might have disturbed mamma, and she is 
 in bed with one of her worst headaches. And now, 
 Charles, I nuist hasten back again." 
 
 "Wait one moment, Annabel, whilst I lock up this 
 doubly-precious will." 
 
 " AYhy ? Yon are not going to trouble to accompany 
 me, when you are so busy ? It is not in the least neces- 
 sary. I shall return home just as safely as I came here." 
 
 " Silly child ! That you have come here at night and 
 alone, I cannot help ; but what would Mrs. Brightman say 
 to me if I suffered you to return in the same manner ? " 
 
 " I suppose it was not quite right," she returned laugh- 
 ingly ; " but I only thought of the pleasure of restoring the 
 will." 
 
 I locked it up in the safe, and went down with her. 
 Why Mr. Brightman should have taken the will home 
 puzzled me considerably ; but the relief to my mind was 
 inexpressible, and I felt quite a gush of remorse towards 
 Lady Clavering for having unjustly suspected her. 
 
 The prosy old omnibus, as it sped on its way to Clapham, 
 was to me as an Elysian chariot. We had it to ourselves 
 the whole way, but never a word passed between us that 
 might not have been heard by a committee of dowagers. 
 In fact, we talked chiefly of Miss Brightman. I began it 
 by asking Iioav she was. 
 
 "Aunt Lucy is very delicate," replied Annabel. "Papa's 
 death has tried her greatly : and anything that tries her at 
 once affects her chest. She says she shall not be able to 
 risk another winter in England, even at Ilastiuo-s." 
 
 " Where would she go ? " 
 . " To Madeira. At least, she thinks so now. In a letter 
 mamma received from her yesterday. Aunt Lucy said she
 
 250 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 should leave Etiglaud iu the autumn. Mamma declared she 
 should send me Avitli her, but of course I could not go — 
 and leave her alone. If I only had a sister, one of us 
 might accompany Aunt Lucy, and the other remain at 
 home. What do you think that stupid Hatch said ? " cried 
 Annabel, running on. "We were talking about it at 
 luncheon, and Hatch was in the room. ' It's just the best 
 thing you can do. Miss Annabel,' she declared, following up 
 mamma's remark." 
 
 " Perhaps Mrs. Brightman may take it into her head to 
 visit Madeira also ? " 
 
 " No, I don't think she would do that, Charles. She and 
 Aunt Lucy used to be the very best of friends, but lately 
 there has been some coolness between them. I do not 
 know the reason, but fancy Hatch knows." 
 
 " Hatch seems to be quite a confidential attendant on 
 your mother." 
 
 " She is so. She has lived with us so long, you see ; and 
 mamma, when she was Miss Chantrey, knew Hatch when 
 she was quite a child. They both come from the same 
 place — near Malvern, in AVorcestershire. Aunt Lucy and 
 mamma were intimate in early days, and it was through 
 that intimacy that papa first knew Miss Chantrey. Why 
 she and Aunt Lucy should have grown cool to one another 
 now, I cannot tell ; but they have done so — and oh, I am 
 sorry for it. I love Aunt Lucy very, very much," added 
 the girl, enthusiastically. 
 
 " And I love the name," I said. *' It was my mother's." 
 
 The evening was yet early when we reached Mrs. Bright- 
 man's, for eight o'clock was striking. Hatch, in her new 
 mourning, came stealing down the stairs with a quiet foot- 
 fall, her black cap-strings flying as usual. 
 
 "Why, Miss Annabel, where have you been ? " she cried. 
 " I couldn't imagine what had become of you."
 
 ANi^ABfit. 251 
 
 ^' I Lad to go out, Hatch— to take a deed to the office 
 that poor papa had brought home and left here. Has 
 mamma wanted me ? " 
 
 " Not she," returned Hatch. " She has just dropped off 
 into a doze, and I am trying to keep the house free from 
 noise. I thought you had been sph'itcd away. Miss 
 Annabel, and that's the truth." 
 
 "Mrs. Brightmau has one of her bad headaches?" I 
 remarked. 
 
 Hatch looked at me keenly ; then quickly at her young 
 mistress : as much as to say : " You've been telling him 
 that. Miss Annabel." 
 
 " It is that bad to-night, Mr. Strange, that her temples 
 is fit to split," she answered. " Since master's death she 
 have had 'em a'most constant— and no Avonder, with all 
 the worry and the shock it brought her. Are you going 
 already, sir ? " 
 
 " Will you not stay for tea ? " asked Annabel. 
 
 " Not to-night, thank you," I replied. 
 
 " I'll let you out quietly," said Hatch, advancing towards 
 the hall-door. " And mind. Miss Annabel, you are not 
 to go anigh your mamma's room to waken her," she 
 added, looking back dictatorially. " Whenl one is racked 
 with pain, body and mind, sleep is more precious than 
 gold." 
 
 Hatch had lived there during the whole of Annabel's 
 life, and could not always lay aside the authoritative manner 
 she had exercised towards the child ; possibly did not try 
 to do so. 
 
 Great sway was held by Hatch in the household, and 
 ]\Irs. Brightmau appeared to sanction it ; certainly never iu 
 any way interfered with it. But Hatch, always kindly, 
 was a favourite with the servants. 
 
 With her shrewdness, capability and strong sense, it
 
 252 THE STORY OP CUARL^S STRANGE. 
 
 seemed a marvel that she should not have improved in 
 manners and in her way of speaking. But she remained 
 very much the same rough diamond that she had always 
 been. Strangers were wont to feel surprise that Mrs. 
 Brightman, herself so refined a woman, should put up with 
 Hatch as her personal attendant ; and in her attacks of 
 illness Hatch would be in her mistress's room for hours 
 together. At this time I knew nothing of Hatch's ante- 
 cedents, very little of Mrs. Brightman's ; or of matters 
 relating to the past ; and when circumstances brought me 
 into Hatch's confidence, she enlightened me upon some 
 points of the family history. A few of her communications 
 I cannot do better than insert here, improving somewhat 
 upon her parts of speech. 
 
 I recall the scene now. It was a lovely moonlit evening, 
 not long after the time of which I am writiug. I had gone 
 to Clapham to inquire after Mrs, Brightman, who was then 
 seriously ill, and kept her chamber. Strolling about the 
 garden in the soft twilight, wishing Annabel was at home 
 instead of at Hastings, Hatch came out and joined me, and 
 at once fell to chatting without ceremony. I made a remark, 
 quite by chance, that touched upon Mrs. Brightman's early 
 life ; it was immediately taken up by Hatch and enlarged 
 upon, and I heard much to which I had hitherto been a 
 stranger. 
 
 Colonel Chantrey and his wife, who was the daughter of 
 Lord Onyx, lived at their seat, Chantrey Hall, a beautiful 
 place not far from Malvern, in "Worcestershire. They had 
 three children — George, Frederic and Emma, who were 
 reared in all the pride and pomp of the Chantrey family. 
 The property w^as strictly entailed. It Avould descend to 
 George Chantrey at his father's death ; and as Colonel 
 Chantrey had no other property whatever, and as he lived 
 not only up to his income hr.i beyond it, the future outlook
 
 ANNABEL. 253 
 
 for tlic younger son find tlic daughter was not a very 
 great one. 
 
 "Such a dash they kept up," said Hatch, warming with 
 her subject. " The Colonel liked show and parade, and 
 Madam, as we always called her, had been born to it. 
 She was the Honourable Mrs. Chantrey, you see, sir, and 
 chose to live according. They visited all the noble families 
 round about, and were visited back again. The Somers 
 at Eastnor Castle, the Lyons at Madresfield, the Foleys 
 at Whitley, and other Foleys at Stoke Edith, the Coventrys 
 over at Croome, the Lcchmeres at the Ehydd, the Horny- 
 holds at Blackuore Park, and the Parkingtons at Ombersley 
 —but there'd be no end if I stopped to tell you the half of 
 'em. Besides that, Mrs. Chantrey counted a near relative 
 in one of the cathedral prebendaries at Worcester — and 
 for pride and exclusiveness some of those old prebendaries 
 capped the world. So that " 
 
 "But, Hatch, why are you telling me all this?" I 
 interrupted. 
 
 "To give you a notion of what my mistress was accus- 
 tomed to when she was Miss Emma Chantrey," promptly 
 replied Hatch. " Well, sir, they grew up, those three 
 children, and I watched 'em grow ; not as I was as old 
 as they were ; and I looked upon 'em as the finest and 
 grandest young people in the world. The two sons spent a 
 good deal more than they ought. Mr. Frederic especially, 
 and the Colonel had to find a lot o' money, for 'twas wanted 
 on all sides, and folks wondered how he did it. The end to 
 it came all on a sudden — death." 
 
 " Whose death ? " 
 
 " The Colonel's, sir. Mr. George, who was then Captain 
 Chantrey, and about twenty-seven years old, took the estate. 
 But it was frightfully encumbered, and he complained 
 bitterly to his mother that he should be a poor man for
 
 254 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 years and years to come. Madam resented what he said, 
 and a quarrel ensued. She would not remain at the Hall, 
 as he had expected her to do, but took a cottage at Malvern, 
 and went into it with her daughter, with a parade of 
 humility. She did not live very long after that, and Miss 
 Emma was thrown on the world. Captain Chantrey was 
 married, then, to an earl's daughter ; but his wife and Miss 
 Emma did not get on together. Miss Emma refused to 
 make her home at the Hall with Lady Grace, and she came 
 to London on a visit to Miss Lucy Brightman, whose mother 
 was living there. She and Miss Lucy had been at a finish- 
 ing school together years before, and they had kept up their 
 friendship. It was there she first saw Mr. Brightman, who 
 was a great many years older than his sister ; and it ended 
 in their being married." 
 
 " And you came into their service, I suppose, Hatch ? " 
 " I did, sir. They had been married near upon twelve 
 months when young Mrs. Brightman found occasion to dis- 
 charge two or three of her servants : and she wrote to the 
 late housekeeper at Chantrey Hall, asking her to find her 
 some from our neighbourhood. London servants w^re 
 friijhiful, she said : fine, lazy, extravagant and insolent. 
 Mother heard about it, and spoke for me to go as uuder- 
 housemaid. "Well, I was engaged, Mr. Strange, and I came 
 up here to Clapham : and I was called ' Hatch ' from the 
 beginning, because my Christian name, Emma, was the 
 same as my lady's. Soon after this. Miss Annabel was born. 
 It was my duty to wait upon the nurse and the sick-room ; 
 and my lady — who was ill and weakly for a long while — 
 grew to like to have me there. Slie would talk about the 
 old place to me, for you sec I knew all the people in it as 
 well as she did. Next, she made me upper-housemaid ; and 
 in a very few years, for she had found out how clever I was 
 at dressmaking and with the needle generally, I became her 
 maid." 
 
 ir>
 
 ANNABEL. 255 
 
 "And you arc in her confidence, Hatch?" I rejoined. 
 " Deservedly so, I am sure." 
 
 " lu a measure I am, sir. A lady like my Missis, who 
 never loses her pride day nor night, cannot descend to be 
 over-confidential ^vith an inferior. But I know she values 
 me — and so did my poor master. I mayn't be polished, Mr. 
 Strange, but I'd go through fire and water for them any 
 day." 
 
 And I am sure she would have done so. 
 
 This was a portion of what Hatch told me. But I must 
 now go back to the night whose events were interrupted for 
 the purpose of recording these details. Not that there is 
 anything more to relate of the night in question. Leaving 
 a message that I would call on Mrs. Brightman in good 
 time the following evening, wishing Annabel good-night, 
 and Hatch also, I returned home.
 
 256 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 perry's reyelatiox. 
 
 " Dear Strange, — Have yoii seen the news in to-day's 
 paper ? I have just caught sight of it. If the Vemjeance 
 has foundered, or whatever the mishap may be, and Tom 
 Heriot should be one of the escaped prisoners, he will be 
 sure to make his way home. Rely upon it he has not grown 
 less reckless than he was, but probably more so. "What 
 trouble may not come of it ? Do try and get at the official 
 particulars, as to whether there's any truth in the report or 
 not ; and let me know without delay. 
 
 " Very truly yours, 
 
 " Level." 
 
 Letters froui Paris and the Continent generally were 
 then usually delivered about mid-day. I was talking with 
 licnnard in the front office when this one arrived. The 
 clerks had gone to dinner. 
 
 *' Have you heard the rumour about the ship Vengeance, 
 Lennard ? " I asked, laying down Lord Level's letter. 
 
 " I read it yesterday," he answered. 
 
 " I wonder how I could learn whether there's any 
 foundation for it ? " 
 
 Before he could reply, we were iuteiTupted by Major 
 Carlen. He was in his usual state of excitement ; his face 
 lengthened, his arms thrown about, and his everlasting
 
 PERRY'S REVELATION. 257 
 
 l)luc cloiik trailiug about him. I slipped the letter into 
 my desk. 
 
 " Here's a pretty go, Charles ! " he exclaimed. " Have 
 you heard ? That eouvict ship's gone to the bottom, and 
 Tom lleriot has escaped." 
 
 " You should not assert that so positively, Major 
 Carlen," I remonstrated. " It is not certain that any of 
 the men have escaped, I suppose. If they have, Tom 
 Heriot may not be one of them."' 
 
 " But they have escaped," stuttered the gray old man, 
 plumping himself down on a stool, around which his cloak 
 fell like so much drapery. " Five have got off, and Tom 
 is one of them." 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 " How could I tell you if I didn't know it ? Half an horn- 
 ago I met Percival in Downing Street, and he told me." 
 
 "What little hope had been left within me took flight at 
 once. Percival was First Lord of the Admiralty, and would 
 certainly know the truth. 
 
 " Government has had official news of it," went on the 
 Major, gloomily ; " and with it a list of the fugitives." 
 
 " And Tom's name is amongst them ? " 
 
 " Tom's name is amongst them." 
 
 There was a pause. Lennard had gone into the other 
 room. Major Carlen rose, saying something about luncheon 
 waiting for him at his club. 
 
 " Mark you," he cried. " If Tom takes it into that 
 rattle-pate of his to worm his way back to these shores, 
 there may be the devil to pay. I hope with all my heart 
 Level won't hear of this. The disgrace has been a thorn 
 to him from the first." 
 
 "Blanche knows nothing about it as yet, and thinks 
 Tom is with his regiment in India. The last time I saw 
 Jier in Paris, not long before Mr. Brightman's death, slie 
 
 S
 
 258 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 asked me what could be the reason Tom did not write 
 to her." 
 
 " Much better tell her, and get it over," spoke the Major. 
 " I should, if I were Level. He is more careful of her 
 than she deserves — silly chit ! " 
 
 Major Carlen and his cloak swung out again, the clerks 
 came back, and the day and its duties went on. I wrote 
 to Lord Level ; giving him the substance of what the 
 Major had heard, and telling him that I thought there 
 could be little fear of Tom Heriot's venturing back to 
 England. He would never risk the danger. 
 
 Dinner over, I started for j\Irs. Brightmau's, and was 
 admitted by the l)utler, who told me, in answer to my 
 inquiry, that his mistress had been ill all day and had not 
 come down. Tea waited on the drawing-room table, but 
 no one was in the room. Presently Annabel entered. 
 
 " I am sorry you should have had the trouble to come, 
 when perhaps you could not spare the time," she said. 
 " Mamma is not well enough to see you." 
 
 " I was not busy to-night, Annabel. Perry has just 
 told me your mother has not been down to-day. Is her 
 illness anything more than would be caused by these bad 
 headaches ? Do you fear anything serious ? " 
 
 "Yes — no. I — I hope not." 
 
 Her voice and manner were subdued, as though she 
 could scarcely speak from fear of breaking down. She 
 turned to the table, evidently to avoid notice, and busied 
 herself with the teacups. 
 
 " "What is the matter, Annabel ? " 
 
 " Nothing," she faintly answered, though her tears were 
 even then falling. But I knew that some great trouble 
 must l)e upon her. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Brightman vexed with you for having coine up 
 last nii;ht with that deed ? "
 
 PERRY'S REVELATION, 259 
 
 " No ; oh uo ! I told mamma about it this morninir, 
 and she said I had done quite right to take it up, but that 
 I ought to have gone in the carriage." 
 
 " What, then, is causing you this grief ? " 
 
 " You cannot expect me to be in very good spirits as 
 yet," she replied : which was a decided evasion. " There 
 arc times — when I feel — the loss " 
 
 8hc fairly broke down, and, sinking into a chair, cried 
 l>itterly and without concealment. I waited until she had 
 become calmer. 
 
 " Annabel, my dear, sorrow is not all that disturbs your 
 peace to-night. "What else is there ? " 
 
 "It is true that I have had something to vex me," 
 she admitted after a pause. " But I cannot tell you 
 about it." 
 
 " It is a momentary trouble, I hope ; one that will pass 
 away " 
 
 " It will never pass away," she interrupted, with another 
 burst of emotion, " but will be a weight and a grief upon 
 me as long as life lasts. I almost wish I had died with 
 my father, rather than have to live and bear it." 
 
 I took her hands in mine, and spoke deliberately. " If 
 it be so serious a trouble, I must know it, Annabel." 
 
 " x^nd if it were of a nature to be spoken of, you should 
 know. But it is not, and I can tell you nothing." 
 
 " Could you speak of it to your father, where he still 
 living ? " 
 
 "We should be compelled to speak of it, I fear. 
 
 But " 
 
 t . 
 
 " Then, my dear, you can speak of it to me. From 
 henceforth you must look upon me as in his place ; your 
 protector ; your best friend : one who will share your 
 cares, perhaps more closely than he could have done ; who 
 will strive to soothe them with a love that could not have
 
 260 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 been his. In a short time, Annabel, I shall ask you to 
 give me the legal right to be and do this." 
 
 " It can never be," she replied, lifting her eyes to mine. 
 
 I looked at her with an amused smile. I knew she loved 
 me — and what other obstacle could exist ? Mrs. Brightman 
 might oppose, but I should win her over in the end. 
 
 " Not quite yet, I know," I answered her. " In a few 
 months' time." 
 
 " Charles, you misunderstand me. I said it could never 
 be. Never."" 
 
 " I certainly do not understand that. Had your father 
 lived, it would have been ; and I do not assert this without 
 reason. I believe that he would have given you to me, 
 Annabel, heartily, Avith all good will." 
 
 " That may be true ; I think you are right ; but " 
 
 " But what, then ? One word, Annabel : the objection 
 would not surely come from your heart ? " 
 
 " No, it would not," she softly answered, blushing deeply. 
 " Please do not speak of these things." 
 
 " I did not intend to speak of them so soon. But I wish 
 to remind you that I do possess a right to share your 
 troubles, of whatever nature those troubles may be. My 
 darling, tell me your grief." 
 
 " Indeed I cannot," she answered, " and you know I am 
 nob one to refuse anything from caprice. Charles, let me 
 go and make the tea." 
 
 I let her go ; but first bent over her without warning 
 and kissed her fervently. 
 
 " Oh, Charles ! " 
 
 "As an earnest of a brother's love and care for you, 
 Annabel, if you object for the present to the other," I 
 whispered, 
 
 "Yes, yes; be a brother to me," she returned, with 
 ,'5trange yearning. " No other tie can now be ours."
 
 PP:RRY'S revelation. 2G1 
 
 " My love, it shall be." 
 
 She rang for the uru, which Perry brought in, and then 
 sat down to the table. I placed myself opposite to her and 
 drew the dry toast towards me. " Mrs. Brightman prefers 
 this, I believe ; shall I prepare some for her ? " 
 
 Annabel did not answer, and I looked up. She was 
 struggling with her tears again. "I fear mamma is not 
 well enough to eat," she said, in a faint voice. 
 
 " Annabel ! " I suddenly exclaimed, a light flashing upon 
 me : " your mother is worse than you have confessed : it is 
 her illness which causes you this pain." 
 
 Greater than any that had gone before was the emotion 
 that shook her now. I rose in consternation and approached 
 her, and she buried her face in her hands. It w-as very 
 singular. Annabel Brightman was calm, sensible, open as 
 the day. She seemed to-night to have borrowed another 
 character. Suddenly she rose, and nervously putting my 
 hand aside, walked once or twice up and down the room, 
 evidently to obtain calmness. Then she dried her eyes, 
 and sat down again to the tea-tray. I confess that I looked 
 on in amazement. 
 
 " Will you be kind enough to ring, Charles ? Twice, 
 please. It is for Hatch." 
 
 I did so, and returned to my seat. Hatch appeared in 
 answer to her signal. Annabel held the cup she had filled. 
 
 " Mamma's tea, Hatch." 
 
 " She won't take none, miss." 
 
 It is impossible to resist the temptation of now and then 
 giving the grammar and idioms Hatch had brought from 
 her country home, and had never since attempted to alter 
 or improve. But what Hatch lacked in accuracy she made 
 up in fluency, for a greater talker never flourished under 
 the sun. 
 
 " If you could get her to drink a cup, it might do her
 
 262 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 good," pursued Hatch's young mistress. " Take it up, aud 
 do your best." 
 
 Hatch flirted round, giving me full view of her black 
 streamers, and brought forward a small silver waiter. " But 
 ,'twon't be of no manner of use, Miss Annabel." 
 
 " And here's some toast, Hatch," cried I. 
 
 " Toast, sir ! Missis wouldn't look at it. I might as 
 well offer her a piece of Ingyrubbius to eat. Miss Annabel 
 knows " 
 
 " The tea will be cold, Hatch ; take it at once," interposed 
 Miss Annabel. 
 
 " Annabel, who is attending your mother ? Mr. Close, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " Mr. Close. She never will have any one else. I fear 
 mamma must have been ill for some time ; but I have been 
 so much away with Aunt Lucy that I never noticed it before." 
 
 " Ay ; Hastings and your aunt will miss you. I suppose 
 Mrs. Brightman will not spare you now as she has hitherto 
 done ? " 
 
 Annabel bent her head over the tea-tray, and a burning 
 colour dyed her face. "What was there in my words to call up 
 the emotion ? Presently she rose and left the room, saying 
 she must see whether the tea had been taken. She returned 
 with the empty cup, looking somewhat more cheerful. 
 
 " See, Charles, mamma has taken it : I do think she 
 would take more nourishment, if Hatch would only press 
 it upon her. She is so very weak and depressed." 
 
 Annabel filled the cup again, and Hatch came in for it. 
 " Suppose you were to take up a little more toast ; mamma 
 might eat it," suggested Annabel, placing the cup on the 
 waiter. 
 
 " Oh, well, not to contrairy you. Miss Annabel," returned 
 Hatch. " I know what use it will be, though." 
 
 As she held out the waiter, screams arose from the floor
 
 PERRY'S REVELATION. 263 
 
 above ; piercing screams of fear or terror ; and I felt sure 
 that they came from Mrs. Brightmau. Hatch dropped the 
 waiter on to the table, upsetting the tea, and dashed out of 
 the room. 
 
 I thought notliiug less than that Mrs. Brightman was on 
 fire, and should have been upstairs as quickly as Hatch ; 
 but Annabel darted in front of me, closed the drawing- 
 room door, and stood against it to prevent my exit, her 
 arms clasping mine in the extremity of agitation, the cries 
 still sounding in our ears. 
 
 " You must not go ! Charles, stay here ! I ask it of 
 you in my father's name." 
 
 " Annabel, are you in your senses ? Your mother may 
 be on fire ! She must be on fire : do you not hear ? " 
 
 "No; it is nothing of that sort. I know what it is. 
 You could do no good ; only harm. I am in my own 
 house— its mistress just now— and I tell you that you must 
 not go up." 
 
 I looked down at Annabel. Her face was the hue of 
 death, and though she shook from head to foot, her voice 
 was painfully imperative. The screams died away. 
 
 A sound of servants was heard in the hall, and Annabel 
 turned to open the door. "You will not take advantage 
 of my being obliged to do so ? " she hurriedly whispered. 
 '' You will not attempt to go up ? " 
 
 She glided out and stood before the servants, arresting 
 their progress as she had arrested mine. "It is only a 
 similar attack to the one mamma had last night," she said, 
 addressing them. " You know that it arises from nervous- 
 ness, and your going up would only increase it. She prefers 
 that Hatch alone should be with her ; and if Hatch requires 
 help, she will ring." 
 
 They moved away again slowly ; and Annabel came back 
 to the drawing-room.
 
 26i THE STOftY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 "Charles," she said, "I am going upstairs. Pray con- 
 tinue your tea without waiting for me ; I will return as 
 soon as possible." 
 
 And all this time she was looking like a ghost and shaking 
 like an aspen leaf. 
 
 I crossed to the fire almost in a dream and stood with 
 my back to it. My eyes were on the tea-table, but they 
 were eyes that saw not. All this seemed very singular. 
 A trickling sound attracted my attention, and I saw that 
 the tea Hatch had spilt, was slowly filtering to the carpet. 
 I rang the bell to have it attended to. 
 
 Perry answered the ring. Seeing what was wrong, he 
 brought in a cloth and knelt down. I stood where I was, 
 and looked on, my mind far away. 
 
 "Curious thing, sir, this illness of mistress's," he re- 
 marked. 
 
 " Is it ? " I dreamily replied. 
 
 " The worst is, sir, I don't know how we shall pacify the 
 maids," he continued. " I and Hatch both told them last 
 night what stupids they Avere to take it up so, and that 
 what missis saw could not affect them. But now that she 
 has seen it a second time — and of course there was no 
 mistaking the screams just now — they are turning rebellious. 
 The cook's the most senseless old thing in the world ! She 
 vows she won't sleep in the house to-night ; and if she 
 carries out her threat, sir, she'll spread it all over the neigh- 
 bourhood." 
 
 This was about as intelligible to me as though Perry 
 were talking Sanscrit. He was still over the carpet, and 
 in matter-of-fact tones which shook with his exertion, for 
 hu Avas a fat man and was rubbing vehemently, he con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " I'm sure I couldn't have believed it. I wouldn't have 
 believed it, sir, but that I have been in the house and a
 
 PERKY'S REVELATION. 265 
 
 witness to it, as one may say ; at any rate heard the screams. 
 For a more quieter, amiabler, and peaceabler man never 
 lived than my master, kind to all about him, and doing no 
 harm to anybody ; and why he should ' walk ' is beyond 
 our comprehension." 
 
 " Why he should what ? " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Walk, sir," repeated Perry. " Hatch says it's no doubt 
 on account of his dying a sudden death ; that he must have 
 left something nntold, and won't l^e laid till he has told 
 it. It's apparent, I take it, that it concerns Mrs. Bright- 
 man, by his appearing to her." 
 
 " But what has appeared to Mrs. Brightman ? " I asked, 
 doubting my ears. 
 
 Perry arrested his occupation, and raised himself to look 
 at me. " My dead master, sir," he whispered mysteriously. 
 " Master's ghost." 
 
 " Your master's ghost ! " I echoed. 
 
 " Yes, sir. But I thought my young lady had told you." 
 
 I felt an irreverent inclination to laugh, in spite of the 
 serious surroundings. Ghosts and I had never had any 
 affinity with each other. I had refused to believe in them 
 as a child, and most unhesitatingly did so as a man. When 
 I retm-ned "The Old English Baron" to Annabel, some 
 years before, she wished she had never lent it to me, because 
 I declined to accept the ghost. 
 
 " I am sure, sir, I never supposed but Miss Annabel must 
 have imparted it to you," repeated Perry, as if doubting iiis 
 own discretion in having done so. " But somebody ought 
 to know, if it's only to advise : and who so fit as you, sir, 
 master's friend and partner ? I should send for a clergy- 
 man, and let him try to lay it ; that's what I should do." 
 
 " Perry, my good man," and I looked at his bald head 
 and rotund form, "you are too old, and I should have 
 thought too sensible, to believe in ghosts. How can you
 
 266 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 possibly listen for a moment to stories so absm'cl as 
 those ? " 
 
 " Well, sir," argued Perry, " my mistress did see it or 
 she didn't ; and if she didn't, why should she scream and 
 say she did ? You heard her screams just now ; and they 
 were worse yesterday." 
 
 " Did yon see the ghost ? " 
 
 " Xo, sir ; I was not up there. Hatch thought she saw 
 it as she went into the room. It w'as in a corner, and wore 
 its shroud : but when we got up there it was gone." 
 
 " When was all this ? " 
 
 " Last night, sir. When you left, Miss Annabel took off 
 her bonnet in the drawing-room and rang for tea, which I 
 carried in. Presently Hatch ran in at the front door, and 
 Miss Annabel told me to call her in. ' Has mamma had 
 her tea?' said my young lady. 'Yes, she has,' returned 
 Hatch ; which was a downright falsehood, for she had not 
 had any. But Hatch is master and missis too, as far as we 
 servants go, and nobody dares contradict her. Perhaps she 
 only said it to keep Mrs. Brightman undisturbed, for she 
 knows her ailments and her wants and ways better than 
 Miss Annabel. So, sir, I went down, and Hatch went up, 
 but not, it seems, into Mrs. Brightman's room, for she 
 thought she was asleep. In two or three mmutes, sir, the 
 most frightful shrieks echoed through the house ; those 
 to-night were nothing half as bad. Hatch was first in the 
 chamber, ]\Iiss Annabel next, and we servants last. My 
 mistress stood at the foot of the bed, which she must have 
 left " 
 
 " Was she dressed ? " I interrupted. 
 
 " No, sir ; she was in her dressing-gown, and looked 
 like — like — I don't hardly know Avhat to say she looked 
 like, but as one might suppose anybody would look who 
 had seen a ghost. She was not a bit like herself. Her eyes
 
 PERKY'S KEVELATION. 267 
 
 were starting and her face was red ; almost alight, as 
 one may say ; indeed, she looked mad. As to her precise 
 words, sir, I can't tell you what they were, for when we 
 gathered that it was master's ghost which she had seen, 
 appearing in its shroud in the corner by the wardrobe, the 
 women servants set up a cry and ran away. That stupid 
 cook went into hysterics, and declared she wouldn't stop 
 another night in the house." 
 
 " What was done with Mrs. Brio-htman ? " 
 " Miss Annabel — she seemed terrified out of her senses, 
 too, poor young lady — bade me hasten for Mr. Close ; but 
 Hatch put in her word and stopped me, and said the first 
 thing to be done was to get those shrieking maids down- 
 stairs. Before I and John had well done it, Hatch followed 
 us down, bringing her mistress's orders that Mr. Close was 
 not to be fetched ; and indeed, as Hatch remarked, of what 
 use could a doctor be in a ghost affair ? But this morning 
 Miss Annabel sent for him," 
 
 " Mrs. Brightman must have had a dream, Perry." 
 " Well, sir, I don't know ; it might have been ; but she 
 is not one given to dreams and fancies. And she must have 
 had the same dream again now." 
 
 *' Xot unlikely. But there's no ghost, Perry ; take my 
 word for it." 
 
 " I hope it will be found so, sir," returned Perry, shaking 
 his head as he retired ; for he had done his work and had 
 no further pretext for lingering.
 
 268 THE STORY OF CHxiRLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 so:me one else seen. 
 
 Standing with my back to the fire in the drawing-room, 
 waiting for Annabel's return, the tea growing cold on the 
 table, I puzzled over what I had just heard, and could 
 make nothing of it. That Mr. Brightman's spirit should 
 appear to his wife seemed to be utterly incomprehensible ; 
 was, of course, incredible. That many people believed in 
 the reappearance of the dead, I well knew ; but I had not 
 yet made up my mind to become one of them. 
 
 It was inexplicable that a woman in this enlightened age, 
 moving in Mrs. Brightman's station, could yield to so 
 strange a delusion. But, allowing that she had done so, did 
 this sufficiently explain Annabel's deep-seated grief ? or the 
 remark that her grief would end only with life ? or the 
 hint that she could never be my wife ? And why should 
 she refuse to confide these facts to me ? why, indeed, 
 have prevented my going upstairs ? I might have reassured 
 Mrs. Brightman far more effectually than Hatch ; who, by 
 Perry's account, was a believer in the ghost theory. It was 
 altogether incomprehensible, and I was trying hard to arrive 
 at a solution when Hatch came in, her idioms in full play. 
 
 "My young lady's complemens, sir, and will you excuse 
 her coming down again to-night ? she is not equal to 
 seeing nobody. And she says truth, poor child," added 
 Hatch. " for she's finite done over."
 
 SOME ONE ELSE SEEN. 269 
 
 " How is your mistress now, Hatch ? " 
 
 " Oh, she's better, she is. Her nerves have been shook, 
 sir, of late, you know, through the shock of master's 
 unexpected death, and in course she starts at shadders. I 
 won't leave the room again, without the gas a-burning 
 full on." 
 
 " What is this tale about Mr. Brightmau ? " 
 
 Hatch and her streamers swung round, and she closed 
 the door before answering. " Miss Annabel never told you 
 that ; did she, sir ? " 
 
 " No ; but I have heard a word or two elsewhere. You 
 fancy you saw a ghost ? " 
 . " Missis do." 
 
 " Oh, I thought you did also." 
 
 " I just believe it's a delusion of hers, Mr. Strange, and 
 nothing more," returned Hatch, confidently. " If master 
 had been a bad sort of character, or had taken his own life, 
 or anything of that, why, the likelihood is that he might 
 have walked, dying sudden. But being what he was, a 
 Christian gentleman that never missed church, and said his 
 own prayers at home on his knees regular — which I see him 
 a-doing of once, when I went bolt into his dressing-room, 
 not beknowing he was in it — why, it is not likely, sir, that 
 he comes again. I don't say as much to them downstairs ; 
 better let them be frightened at his ghost than at — at — • 
 anybody else's. I wish it was master's ghost, and nothing 
 worse," abruptly concluded Hatch. 
 
 " Nothing worse ! Some of you would think that bad 
 enough, were it to appear." 
 
 " Yes, sir, ghosts is bad enough, no doubt. But realities 
 is worse." 
 
 So it was of no use waiting. I turned to go, telling 
 Hatch that I would come again the following evening to 
 see how things were progressing.
 
 270 THE STOEY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Yes, do, Mr. Strange ; you had better," assented Hatch, 
 who had a habit, not arising from want of respect, but from 
 her long and confidential services, and the plenitude of her 
 attachment, of identifying herself with the family in the 
 most unceremonious manner. " Miss Annabel's life hasn't 
 been a bed of roses since this ghost appeared, and I fear it 
 is not likely to be, and if there's anybody that can say 
 a word to comfort her, it must be you, sir ; for in course 
 I've not had my eyes quite blinded. Eyes is eyes, sir, and 
 we can't always shut 'em, if we would." 
 
 Hatch was crossing the hall to open the door for me, and 
 I had taken my great-coat from the stand, when Annabel flew 
 down the stairs, her face white, her voice sharp with terror. 
 
 " Hatch ! Hatch ! mamma is frightened again ! " 
 
 Hatch ran up, two stairs at a time, and I went after her. 
 Mrs. Brightman had followed Annabel, and now stood 
 outside her chamber-door in her white dressing-gown, 
 trembling violently. " He is watching me again," she 
 panted : " is standing there in his grave-clothes I " 
 
 " Don't you come," cried Hatch, putting Annabel back 
 unceremoniously. " I shall get my missis round best alone ; 
 I'm not afraid of no ghostesses, not I. Give a look to her, 
 sir," she added, pointing to Annabel, as she drew Mrs. 
 Brightman into her chamber, and fastened the door. 
 
 Annabel, her hands clasped on her chest, shook as she 
 stood. I put my arm round her and took her down to the 
 drawing-room. Then I closed the door, and Annabel sat 
 down on the sofa near the fire. 
 
 " My darling, how can I comfort you ? " 
 
 Emotion prevented her from replying — emotion that 
 I had rarely witnessed. I let it spend itself ; you can do 
 nothing else with grief so violent : and when it was over 
 I sat down beside her. 
 
 " Annabel, you might have confided this to me at first.
 
 SOME ONE ELSE SEEN. 271 
 
 It can be nothing but a temporary delusion of Mrs. 
 Brightman's, arising from a relaxed state of the nervous 
 system. Imaginary spectral appearances " 
 
 " Who told you about that ? " she interrupted, in agita- 
 tion. " How came you to hear it ? " 
 
 " My dear, I heard it from Perry. But he did not break 
 faith in speaking of it, for he thought you had already told 
 me. There can be no reason why I should not know it ; 
 but I am sorry that it has reached the servants." 
 
 Poor Annabel laid her head on tlie arm of the sofa. 
 
 " I do not like to leave you or Mrs. Brightman either, in 
 this crisis. Shall I remain here to-night } I can send 
 a message to Essex Street " 
 
 " Oh no, no," she hastily interrupted, as if the proposal 
 had startled her. And then she continued slowly, hesita- 
 tingly, pausing between her words : " You do not^of 
 course — believe that — that papa " 
 
 " Of course I do not," was my hearty reply, relieving 
 her from her embarrassing question. " Nor you either, 
 Annabel : although, as a child, you devoured every ghost- 
 story you came near." 
 
 She made no reply, only looked down, and kept silence. 
 I gazed at her wonderingly. 
 
 " It terrified me so much last night," she whispered. 
 
 " What terrified you, Annabel ? " 
 
 " I was terrified altogether ; at mamma's screams, her 
 words, the nervous state she was in. Mr. Close has helped 
 to frighten me, too, for I heard him say this morning to 
 Hatch that such cases have been known to end in madness." 
 
 " Mr. Close is not worth a rush," cried I, suppressing 
 what I had been about to uttor impulsively. " So he knows 
 of this fancy ? " 
 
 " Yes, Hatch told him. Indeed, I do not see that there 
 was any help for it."
 
 272 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " He will observe discretion, no doubt. Still, I almost 
 wish you had called in some one who is a stranger to the 
 neighbourhood." 
 
 " Mamma will not have a stranger, and you know we 
 must not act in opposition to her will. She seemed so much 
 better this morning ; quite herself again." 
 
 " Of course. With the return of daylight these fancies 
 subside. Bat as it seems there is nothing I can do for you, 
 Annabel, I must be going, and will come again to-morrow 
 evening." 
 
 The conclusion seemed to startle her. "Had— you — 
 better come ? " she cried, with much hesitation. 
 
 "Yes, I had better come," I firmly replied. "And I 
 cannot understand you, wishing me not to do so, as I see 
 you do." 
 
 " Only — if mamma should be ill again — it is all so un- 
 comfortable. I dare say you never even finished your tea," 
 glancing at the table. All trivial excuses, to conceal her 
 real and inexplicable motive, I felt certain. " Good-night, 
 Charles." 
 
 She held out her hand to me. I did not take it : I took 
 .her instead, and held her to my heart. " You are not your- 
 self to-night, Annabel, for there is some further mystery in 
 all this, and you will not tell it me. But the time will soon 
 come, my dearest, when our mysteries and our sorrows must 
 -be shared together," And all the answer I received was 
 a look of despair. 
 
 In passing through the iron gates, I met Mr. Close. The 
 moon to-night was obscured by clouds, but the lamps revealed 
 us to each other. " How is ]\Irs. Brightman ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yery ill and very strange," I answered. " Do you 
 apprehend any serious result ? " 
 
 "Well — no," said he ; "not immediately. Of course, it 
 will tell upon her in the long-run."
 
 SOME ONE ELSE SEEN. 273 
 
 *' She has had another attack of nervous terror to-night ; 
 in fact, two attacks." 
 
 " Ay ; seen the ghost again, I suppose. I suspected she 
 would, so thought I would just call iu." 
 
 " AYould it not be as well — excuse me, but you are aware 
 how intimately connected I was with Mr. Brightman — to 
 call in a consultation ? Not that there is the slightest 
 doubt of your skill and competency, but it appears to be so 
 singular a malady ; and in the multitude of counsellors 
 there is safety, you know." 
 
 " It is the commonest malady we have to deal with," 
 returned he ; and the answer was so unexpected that I 
 could only stare in silence. 
 
 " Have a consultation if you think it more satisfactory, 
 Mr. Strange. But it will not produce the slighest result ; 
 and the less this matter is allowed to transpire the better. 
 I assure you that all the faculty combined could not do 
 more for Mrs. Brightman than I am doing. It is a lament- 
 able disease, but it is one that must run its course." 
 
 He went up to the house, and I got outside an omnibus 
 that was passing the end of the road, and lighted my cigar, 
 more at sea than ever. If seeing ghosts was the commonest 
 malady doctors had to deal with, where had I lived all my 
 life not to have learned it ? 
 
 The next afternoon I was surprised by a visit from Perry. 
 He brought word from his mistress that she was very much 
 better, though not yet able to see me on business mattei"s ; 
 when she felt equal to it, she would let me know. Miss 
 Annabel, concluded the butler, was gone to Hastings. 
 
 " To Hastings ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 ""Well, yes, sir. My mistress decided upon it this morn- 
 ing, and I have just seen her off by train, with Sarah in 
 attendance. Fact is, sir," added Perry, dropping his voice 
 to a confidential key, " Hatch whispered to me that it was 
 
 T
 
 274 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 thouglit best the poor young lady slioiild be out of the house 
 while it is so troubled." 
 
 " Troubled ! " I repeated, half in scorn. 
 
 " Why, yes, sir, you know what it is that's in it," rejoined 
 Perry, simply. " Mr. Close, too, he said Miss Annabel ought 
 to be away from it just now." 
 
 When every hour of the day is occupied, time glides on 
 insensibly. A week passed. I heard no news of or from 
 Mrs. Brightman, and did not altogether care to intrude 
 upon her unbidden. But when the second week was also 
 quickly passing, I determined one evening to go to Clapham. 
 Dinner over, I was going downstairs, and met Leah coming 
 up. 
 
 " If any one calls, I am out for the evening," I said to 
 her. " And tell Watts when he comes in that I have left 
 the Laiv Times on the table for Mr. Lake. He must take it 
 round to him." 
 
 " Very well, sir." 
 
 I was nearing the top of Essex Street when I met tlie 
 postman. 
 
 " Anything for me ? " I inquired, for I had expected an 
 important letter all day. 
 
 " I think there is, sir," he replied, looking over his lettei*s 
 under the lamp. " ' Messrs. Brightman and Strange ; ' 
 there it is, sir." 
 
 ■ I opened it, found it was the expected letter, and required 
 an immediate answer. So I returned, and letting myself in 
 with my latchkey, went into the front oflice to write it. 
 
 Leah had not heard me come in. She was upstairs, deep 
 in one of the two favourite ballads which now aj^peared to 
 comprise all her collection. During office hours Leah was 
 quiet as a mute ; but in the evening she would generally 
 croon over one of these old songs in an undertone, if she
 
 SOME ONE ELSE SEEN. 275 
 
 thouf,^ht that 1 was out and she had the house to herself. 
 Slie was thinking now, for she sang out in full key, but 
 in a doleful, monotonous sort of chant. Her voice was still 
 very sweet, but had lost much of the power of its earlier 
 days. One of these two songs Avas a Scotch fragment, 
 beginning " Woe's me, for my heart is breaking ; " the other 
 was " Barbara Allen." Fragmentary also, apparently ; for 
 as Leah sang it there appeared to be neither beginning nor 
 ending to it. 
 
 " And as she wandered up and down, 
 She lieard the bells a-ringing, 
 And as they rang they seemed to say, 
 ' Hard-hearted Barbara AUeu.' 
 
 " She turned her body round and round, 
 
 She saw his corpse a-comiug ; 
 • Oil, put liim down by this blade's side, 
 Tliat I may gaze upon him ! ' 
 
 " The more she looked, the more she laughed, 
 The further she went from him ; 
 Her friends they all cried out, 'For shame. 
 Hard-hearted Barbara Allen ! ' " 
 
 Whether this is the correct version of the ballad, I do not 
 know ; it was Leali's version. ]\Iaiiy and many a time had 
 I heard it ; and I was hearing it again this evening, when 
 there came a quiet ring at the bell. My door was not 
 closed, and Leah came biLstling down. "Barbara Allen" 
 was going on still, but in a more subdued voice. 
 
 " Do Mr. Strange live here ? " was asked, when the door 
 was opened. 
 
 " Yes, he does," responded Leah, " but he is out." 
 
 " Oh, I don't want him, ma'am. I only wanted to know 
 if he lived here. What sort of a man is he ? " 
 
 " What sort of a man ? " repeated Leah. " A very nice 
 man ."
 
 276 THE STOPtY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Yes ; but in looks, I mean." 
 
 " Well, very good-looking. Blue eyes, and dark hair, and 
 straiglit features. Why do you want to know ? " 
 
 " Ay, that's him. But T don't know about the colonr of 
 his eyes ; I thought they were dark. Blue in one light, 
 brown in another, maybe. A tallish, thinnish man." 
 
 " He's pretty tall ; not what can be called a maypole A 
 little taller than Mr. Brightman was." 
 
 " Brightman and Strange, that's it ! T'other's an old 
 gent, I suppose ? " was the next remark ; whilst I sat, 
 amused at the colloquy. 
 
 " He was not old. He is just dead. Have yon any 
 message ? " 
 
 " No, I don't want to leave a message ; that's not my 
 business. He told me he lived here, and I came to make 
 sure of it. A pleasant, sociable man, ain't he ; no pride 
 about him, though he is well off and goes cruising about in 
 his own yacht." 
 
 "jSTo pride at all with those he kuows, whether it's 
 fiiends or servants," returned Leah, forgetting discretion in 
 singing my praises. " Never was anybody pleasanter than 
 he. But as to a yacht " 
 
 " Needn't say any more, ma'am ; it's the same man. 
 Takes a short pipe and a social dram occasionally, and 
 makes no bones over it." 
 
 "What?" retorted Leah, indignantly. "Mr. Strange 
 doesn't take drams or smoke short pipes. If he just lights 
 a cigar at night, when business is over, it's as much as he 
 does. He's a gentleman." 
 
 " Ah ! " .returned the visitor, his tones expressing a patron- 
 izing sort of contempt for Leah's belief in Mr. Strange : 
 "gents that is gents indoors be not always gents out. 
 Tiiough I don't see why a man need be reproached with not 
 being a gent because he smokes a honest daj pipe, and
 
 SOME ONE ELSE SEEN. 277 
 
 takes a drop sliort ; and Mr. Strange docs l:>otli, I can 
 tell yc." 
 
 " Then I know he docs not," repeated Leah. " And if 
 you knew Mr. Strange, you wouldn't say it." 
 
 " If I knew Mr. Strange ! Perhaps I know him as well as 
 you do, ma'am. He don't come courting our Betsy without 
 my knowing of him." 
 
 " What do you say he docs ? " demanded Leah, suppress- 
 ing her wrath. 
 
 " Why, I say he comes after our Betsy ; leastways, I'm 
 a'most sure of it. And that's why I wanted to know 
 whether this was his house or not, for I'm not a-going to 
 have her trifled with. She's my only daughter, and as good 
 as he is. And now that I've got my information I'll say 
 good-night, ma'am." 
 
 Leah closed the door, and I opened mine. " Who was 
 that, Leah ? " 
 
 " My patience, sir ! " she exclaimed in astonishment. 
 " I thought you were out." 
 
 " I came in again. Who was that man at the door ? " 
 
 " Who's to know, sir — and what does it matter ? " cried 
 Leah. "Some half-tipsy fellow who must have mistaken 
 the house." 
 
 " He did not speak as though he were tipsy at all." 
 
 " You must have heard what he said, sir." 
 
 " I heard." 
 
 Leah turned away, but came back hesitatingly, a wistful 
 expression in her eyes. I believe she looked upon me as a 
 boy still, and cared for me as she did when I had been one. 
 " It is not true, Mr. Charles ? " 
 
 "Of course it is not true. I neither take drams, nor 
 ofo courting Miss Betsvs." 
 
 ^ CD *^ 
 
 " Why, no, sir, of course not. I believe I must be getting 
 pldand foolish, sir. I should just like to wring that man's
 
 278 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 ueck for his impudence ! " she conchided, as she went up- 
 stairs again. 
 
 But what struck me was this : either one of my clerks 
 was playing pranks in my name — passing himself off as Mr. 
 Strange, to appear great and consequential ; and if so, I 
 should uncommonly like to know which of them it was — or 
 else something was being enacted by those people who made 
 the sorrow of Leah's life ; that daughter of hers and the 
 husband — as we will call him. For the voice at the door 
 had sounded honest and the application genuine. 
 
 Posting my letter, I made the best of my way to Clapham. 
 But I had my journey for nothing, and saw only Perry. 
 His mistress had been getting much better, he said, but 
 a day or two ago she had a relapse and was again confined 
 to her room, unable to see any one. Mr. Close had ordered 
 her to be kept perfectly quiet. Annabel remained at 
 Hastings. 
 
 " And what about that fright, Perry, that you all had 
 a fortnight ago ? " I asked, as he strolled by my side back 
 to the iron gates : for it was useless to go in if I could not 
 see Mrs. Brightman. " Has the house got over it yet ? " 
 
 " Sir, it is in the house still," he gravely answered. 
 
 " Do you mean the scare ? " 
 
 " I mean the ghost, sir. Poor master's spirit." 
 
 I turned to look at his face, plainly discerned in the 
 dimness of the foggy night. It was no less grave than his 
 Avords. 
 
 "The figure does not appear every night, sir; oidy 
 occasionally," he resumed : " and always in the same place 
 — the corner by the wardrobe in Mrs. Brightman's bedroom. 
 Stands there in its grave-clothes. Hatch has seen it twice, 
 sir, and nobody can suspect Hatch of having nerves. The 
 last time was on Sunday night. It stood in its shroud, 
 ga/ing at them witl: a mnnrnfnl face. ]\raRtor's very own
 
 SOME ONE ELSE SEEN. 270 
 
 face, sir, Hatch says, just as it used to be in life ; only white 
 and ghastly." 
 
 Stirring the fire into a blaze when I got back to my 
 room, I sat before it, and tried to think out the prol)lem. 
 But the more I tried, the more effectually it seemed to 
 elude me. 
 
 "With the whir-r-r that it always made, the clock on the 
 mantelpiece began to strike ten. I started. At the same 
 moment the door opened slowly and noiselessly, and I^cah 
 glided in with my chamber candlestick, her face as ghastly 
 as the one Perry had been speaking of that night. 
 
 Placing the candlestick on a side-table, and softly closing 
 the door, she turned to me, her lips trembling, her hands 
 working nervously. 
 
 " Why, Leah ! " I exclaimed, " what is the matter ? " 
 
 " Sir," she then said, in deepest agitation, " I have seen 
 to-night what has almost frightened me to death. I don't 
 know how to tell you about it. Watts has dropped asleep in 
 his chair in the kitchen, and I took the opportunity to steal 
 up here. I wouldn't let him hear for the world. He is 
 growing suspicious, fancying I'm a bit odd at times. He'd, 
 be true in this, I know, but it may be as well to keep it 
 from him." 
 
 " P>ut what is it, Leah ? " 
 
 "AVhen I saw him, I thought I should have dropped 
 down dead," she went on, passing over the question. " He 
 stood there with just the same smile on his face that it 
 used to wear. It was himself, sir ; it was, indeed." 
 
 " But who was it ? " I said, puzzled and astonished 
 beyond expression at the woman's manner, and wondering 
 if there was to be a mystery in my own house, as well as 
 the one I had lately quitted. " Who was it that you saw, 
 Leah ? " 
 
 " Mr. Tom, sir ; Captain Ileriot."
 
 280 THE STORY OF CHAELES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 PROWLING ABOUT. 
 
 So the blow bad fallen. What we were dreading bad come 
 to pass. Tom Heriot was back again. 
 
 I sat balf-paralyzed with terror. Leab stood before me 
 on the bearthrug, pouring out ber unwelcome disclosure 
 with eager words now that her first emotion bad subsided. 
 
 " After you bad gone out this evening, sir, I was in the 
 kitchen, when one of those small bandfuls of gravel I 
 dread to hear rattled against the window. 'Nancy,' I 
 groaned. I could not go to the door, lest "Watts should 
 come up and see me, for I expected to see him back every 
 minute ; and, sure enough, just then I beard his ring. I 
 gave him the Law Times, as you bade me, sir, telling him 
 be was to take it round to Mr. Lake at once. When he 
 was gone I ran up to the door and looked about, and saw 
 Nancy in the shadow of the opposite bouse, where she 
 mostly stands when waiting for me. I could not speak to 
 ber then, but told her I would try and come out presently. 
 Her eldest boy, strolling away with others at play, bad been 
 run over by a cab somewhere in Lambeth ; be was thought 
 to be dying : and Nancy bad come begging and praying me 
 with tears to go with her to see him." 
 
 " And you went, I suppose ? Clo on, Leah." 
 
 " You know her dreadful life, Mr. Ciiarles, its sorrows 
 and misery ; bow could I find it in my heart to deny her ?
 
 PROWLING ABOUT. 281 
 
 When Watts came back from Mr. Lake's, I had my bonnet 
 and shawl on. 'What, going out ?' said he, rather crossly 
 —for I had promised him a game at cribbage. 'Well,' I 
 answered, ' I've just remembered that I have to fetch those 
 curtains home to-night that went to be dyed ; and I must 
 hasten or the shop may be shut up. I've put your supper 
 ready in case they keep me waiting, but I dare say I shall 
 not be long.' " 
 
 To attempt to hurry Leah when once she had entered 
 upon one of her stories, was simply to waste words ; so I 
 listened with all the patience I had at command. 
 
 *' The boy had been carried into a house down Lambeth 
 way, and the doctor said he must not be moved ; but the 
 damage was not as bad as was at first thought, and I 
 cheered Nancy up a bit by saying he would get all right 
 and well. I think he will. Leaving her with the lad, I 
 was coming back alone, when I missed my way. The 
 streets are puzzling just there, and I am not familiar with 
 them. I thought I'd ask at a book-stall, and went up to 
 it. A sailor was standing outside, fingering the books and 
 talking to somebody inside that I couldn't see. J\lr. 
 Charles, I had got within a yard of him, when I saw who 
 it was — and the fright turned me sick and faint." 
 
 " You mean the sailor ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, the sailor. It was Captain Heriot, disguised. 
 Sir, what is to be done ? The boy that I have often nursed 
 upon my knee — what will become of him if he should be 
 recognized ? " 
 
 The very thought turned me sick and faint also, as Leah 
 expressed it. How could Tom be so foolhardy ? An 
 escaped convict, openly walking about the streets of London ! 
 
 " Did he see you, Leah ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; I stole away quickly ; and the next turning 
 brought me into the right road again."
 
 283 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " How did he look ? " 
 
 " I saw no change in him, sir. He wore a round glazed 
 liafe and rough sailor clothes, with a large sailor collar 
 open at the throat. His face was not hidden at all. It 
 used to be clean-shaved, you know, except the whiskers ; 
 but now the whiskers are gone, and he wears a beard. 
 That's all the difference I could see in him." 
 
 Could this possibly be Tom ? I scarcely thought that 
 even he would be so reckless of consequences. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Charles, do you suppose I could mistake him ? " 
 cried Leah. " Indeed, sir, it was Captain Heriot. He and 
 the man inside — the master of the shop, I suppose — seemed 
 talking as if they knew one another, so Mr. Tom may have 
 been there before— perhaps is hiding in the neighbourhood." 
 " Leah ! have you gone up to bed ? " 
 The words came floating np the staircase in Watts's deep 
 voice. Leah hurried to the door. 
 
 "I came up to bring the master's candle," she called 
 out, as she went down. " If you hadn't gone to sleep, you 
 might have heard him ring for it." 
 
 All night I lay awake, tormented on the score of Tom 
 Heriot, and the hours dragged on, one after the other, 
 until daybreak. In spite of Leah's certainty in the matter, 
 my mind refused to believe that she had seen Tom Heriot. 
 Tom was inconceivably daring ; but not daring enough 
 for this. At least, I thought so. 
 
 But if it was indeed Tom— why, then there was no hope. 
 He would inevital^ly be recaptured. And this meant I 
 knew not what of heavier punishment for himself ; and for 
 the rest of us furtlier exposure, reflected disgrace, and 
 mental pain. 
 
 Resolving to go myself at night and reconnoitre, I turned 
 to my day's work. In the course of the morning a some- 
 Avhat curious tiling ha]ipened. I was searching IMr.
 
 PROWLING ABOUT. 2«3 
 
 Briglifcman's small deslv for a paper I thought might be there, 
 and, accidentally touching a spring, the lower part of the 
 desk loosened, and I saw that it had a false bottom to 
 it. Lifting the upper portion, I found several small deeds 
 of importance, letters and other papers ; and lying on the 
 top of all was a small packet, inscribed " Lady Clavering," 
 in Mr, Brightman's writing. 
 
 No doubt the letters she was uneasy about, and which 
 I had hitherto failed to find. But now, what was I to do ? 
 Give them back to her? Well, no, I thought not. At 
 any rate, not until I had glanced over them. Their being 
 in this secret division proved the importance attaching 
 to them. 
 
 Untying the narrow pink ribbon that held them together, 
 there fell out a note of Sir Ralph Clavering's, addressed to 
 Mr. ])rightman. It was dated just before his death, and 
 ran as follows : 
 
 "I send you the letters I told you I had discovered. 
 Read them, and keep them safely. Should trouble arise 
 with her after my death, confront her with them. Use 
 your own discretion about showing them to my nephew 
 Edmund. But should she acquiesce in the just will I have 
 made, and when all things are settled on a sure foundation, 
 then destroy the letters, unseen by any eye save your own ; 
 I do not wish to expose her needlessly. — R. C." 
 
 Lady Clavering had not accpiicsced in the will, and she 
 was still going on with her threatened and most foolish 
 action. I examined the letters. Some were written to 
 her ; not by her husband, though ; some were written hij 
 her : and, take them for all in all, they were about as 
 damaging a series as any it had been my fate to see. 
 
 " The senseless tilings these women are ! " thought I.
 
 284 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " How ou earth came she to preserve such letters as 
 these ? " 
 
 I sent a messenger for Sir Edmund C layering. Mr. 
 Brightman was to use his own discretion ; I hardly thought 
 any was left to me. It was more Sir Edmund's place to 
 see them than mine. He came at once. 
 
 " By George ! " he exclaimed, when he had read two or 
 three of them, his handsome face flushing, his brow knit in 
 condemnation. " "What a despicable woman ! ^Ye have 
 the cause in our own hands now." 
 
 " Yes ; she cannot attempt to carry it further." 
 
 We consulted a little as to the best means of making 
 the truth known to Lady Clavering — an unthankful office 
 that would fall to me — and Sir Edmund rose to leave. 
 
 " Keep the letters safely," he said ; almost in the very 
 words Sir Ralph had written. " Do not bring them within 
 a mile of her hands : copies, if she pleases, as many as she 
 likes. And when things are upon a safe footing, as my 
 uncle says, and there's no longer anything to fear from her, 
 then they can be destroyed. 
 
 " Yes. Of course," I continued, in some hesitation, 
 "she must be spared to the world. This discovery must 
 be held sacred between us • " 
 
 " Do you mean that as a caution ? " he iuterrupted in 
 surprise. " Why, Strange, what do you take me for ? " 
 
 He clasped my hand with a half-laugh, and went cut. 
 Yes, Lady Clavering had contrived to damage herself, but 
 it would never transpire to her friends or her enemies. 
 
 Leah had noticed the name of .the street containing the 
 book-stall, and when night came I put on a discarded old 
 great-coat and slouching hat, and set out. It was soon 
 found : a narr(/W, well-frequented street leading out of 
 the main thoroughfare, full of poor shops patronized by 
 still poorer customers,
 
 PROWLING ABOUT. 285 
 
 The book-stall was on the right, about halfway down 
 the street. Numbers of old books lay upon a board outside, 
 lighted by a flaring, smoking tin lamp. luside the shop 
 they seemed chiefly to deal in tobacco aud snulf. Every 
 now and then the master of the shop — whose name, accord- 
 ing to the announcement above the shop, must be Caleb 
 Lee — came to the door to look about him, or to answer the 
 questions of some outside customer touching the books. 
 But as yet I saw no sign of Tom Heriot. 
 
 Opposite the shop, on the other side the way, was a dark 
 entry ; into that entry I ensconed myself to watch. 
 
 Tired of this at last, I marched to the end of the street, 
 crossed over, strolled back, aud halted at the book-stall. 
 There I began to turn the books about : auything to while 
 away the time. 
 
 " Looking for any book in particular, sir ? " 
 
 The question came from the man Lee, and the voice 
 sounded familiar to my ear. Where had I heard it ? 
 
 "You have not an old copy of the 'Vicar of Wakefield,' 
 I suppose ? " — the work flashing into my mind by chance. 
 
 "No, sir. I had one, but it was bought last week. 
 There's ' Fatherless Fanny,' sir ; a very nice book ; it was 
 thought a deal of some years ago. Aud there's the ' Water 
 Witch,' by Cooper. That's good, too." 
 
 I remembered the voice now. It was that of Leah's 
 mysterious visitor of the night before, who had been 
 curiously inquisitive about me. llecognition came upou 
 me with a shock, and opened up a new fear. 
 
 Taking the "Water Witch" — for which T paid four- 
 pence — I walked on again. Could it be possible that Tom 
 Heriot was passing himself off for me ? Why, this would 
 be the veriest folly of all. But no ; that was altogether 
 impossible. 
 
 Anxious aud uueasy, I turned about again and again.
 
 28G THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 The matter ought to be set at rest, yet I knew not how to 
 do it, 
 
 I entered the shop, which contained two small counters : 
 the one covered with papers, the other wjth smoking gear. 
 Lee stood behind the former, serving a customer, who was 
 inquiring for last week's number of the Fireside Friend. 
 Behind the other counter sat a young girl, pretty and 
 modest. I turned to her. 
 
 " Will you give me a packet of tobacco : bird's-eye, I 
 think ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," she answered in pleasant tones ; and, opening 
 a drawer, handed me the tobacco, ready wrapped up. It 
 would do for Watts. Bird's-eye, I knew, was his favourite 
 mixture. 
 
 " Thank you, sir," she said, returning me the change out 
 of a florin. " Anything else, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes ; a box of wax matches." 
 
 But the matches were not to be found, and the girl 
 appealed to her father. 
 
 " Wax matches ? Wliy, they are on the shelf behind you, 
 Betsy." 
 
 The matches were found, the girl took the money for 
 them, and thanked me again. All very properly and 
 modestly. The girl was evidently as modest and well- 
 behaved as a girl could be. 
 
 So that was Betsy ! But who was courting her in my 
 name ? One of my office clerks — or Captain Thomas 
 Heriot ? 
 
 Captain Thomas Heriot did nut make his appearance, 
 and I began to hope that Leah had been mistaken. It 
 grew late. I was heartily tired, and turned homewards. 
 
 " Mr. Strange, my lord." 
 
 It was the following evening. Restlessly anxious about
 
 PROWLING ABOUT. 287 
 
 Tom Heriot, I betook myself to Gloucester Place as soon 
 as dinner was over, to ask Major Carleu whether he had 
 learnt anything further. The disreputable old man was 
 in some way intimate with one or tv/o members of the 
 Government. To my surprise, Sanders, Lord Level's 
 servant, opened the door, and showed me to the dining- 
 room. Lord Level sat there alone over his after-dinner 
 claret. 
 
 " You] look as if you hardly believed your eyes," he 
 laughed as he shook hands. " Sit down, Charles. Glasses, 
 Sanders." 
 
 " And surprised I may well look to see you here, when 
 I thought you were in Paris," was my answer. 
 
 " We came over to-day ; got here an hour ago. Blanche 
 was very ill in crossing and has gone to bed." 
 
 ♦' Where is IMajor Carlen ? " 
 
 *' Off to Jersey to see his sister, Mrs. Guy. At least, 
 that's what he said ; but he is not famous for veracity, 
 you know, and it is just as likely that he may be catching 
 the mail train at London Bridge en roide for Homburg, 
 as the Southampton train from Waterloo. Had you been 
 half an hour earlier, you might have had the pleasure of 
 assisting at his departure. I have taken this house for a 
 month, and paid him in advance," added Level, as much as 
 to say that the Major was not altogether out of funds. 
 
 A short silence ensued. The thoughts of both were 
 no doubt busy. Level, his head bent, was slowly turning 
 his wine-glass round by its stem. 
 
 " Strange," he suddenly said, in a half-whisper, " what 
 of Tom Heriot ? " 
 
 I hardly knew how to take the question. 
 
 " I know nothing more of him," was my answer. 
 
 " Is he in London, think you ? Have you heard news of 
 him, in any way ? "
 
 288 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Now I could not say that I had heard |news : for Leah's 
 information was not news, if (as I hoped) she was mistaken. 
 And I judged it better not to mention it until the question 
 was set at rest. Why torment him needlessly ? 
 
 " I wrote you word what Major Carlen said : that Tom 
 was one of those Avho escaped. The ship was wrecked 
 upon an uninhabited island, believed to be that of Tristan 
 d'Acunha. After a few days some of the convicts con- 
 trived to steal a boat and make good their escape. Of 
 course they were in hope of being picked up by some 
 homeward-bound ship, and may already have reached 
 England." 
 
 " Listen," said Lord Level, after a pause : " that island 
 lies, no doubt, in the track of ships bound to the colonies, 
 but not in the track of those homeward-bound. So the 
 probability is, that if the convicts were sighted and picked 
 up, they would be carried further from England, not 
 brought back to it." 
 
 I confess that this view had not occurred to me ; in fact, 
 I knew very little about navigation, or the courses taken 
 by ships. It served to strengthen my impression that Leah 
 had been in error. 
 
 " Are you sure of that ? " I asked. 
 
 " Sure of what ? " returned Level. 
 
 " That the island would be out of the track of home- 
 ward-bound vessels." 
 
 " Quite sure. Homeward-bound vessels come round 
 Cape Horn. Those bound for the colonies go by way of 
 the Cape of Good Hope." 
 
 " ]\Iy visit here to-night was to ask Major Carlen whether 
 he had heard any further particulars." 
 
 " I think he heard a few more to-day," said Lord Level. 
 "The Vengeance was wrecked, it seems, on this island. 
 It is often sighted by ships going to the colonies, and the
 
 PliOWLING ABOUT. 289 
 
 captain was in hope that his signals from the island would 
 be seen, and some ship would bear down to them. In 
 vain. After the convicts — five, I believe — had made their 
 escape, he determined to send off the long-boat, in charge 
 of the chief officer, to the nearest Australian coast, for 
 assistance. On the 10th of December the boat set sail, 
 and on Christmas Day was picked up by the Vernon^ which 
 reached Melbourne the last day of the year." 
 
 " But how have you learned all these details ? " I inter- 
 rupted in surprise. 
 
 " They have been furnished to the Government, and 
 Carlen Avas informed of them this morning," replied Level. 
 "On the following day, the 1st of January, the ship 
 Lightning sailed from Melbourne for England ; she was 
 furnished with a full account of the wreck of the Vengeance 
 and what succeeded to it. The Ligldning made a good 
 passage home, and on her arrival laid her reports before 
 the Government. That's how it is." 
 
 " And what of the escaped convicts ? " 
 
 "Nothing is known of them. The probability is that 
 they were picked up by an outward-bound ship and lauded 
 in one of the colonies. If not, they must have perished 
 at sea." 
 
 " And if they were so picked up and landed, I suppose 
 they would have reached England by this time ? " 
 
 " Certainly — seeing that the Ligldning has arrived. And 
 the convicts had some days' start of the long-boat. I hope 
 Tom Heriot will not make his way here ! " fervently spoke 
 Level. " The consequences would almost kill my wife. 
 No chance of keeping it from her in such a hullabaloo as 
 would attend his recapture." 
 
 " I cannot think how you have managed to keep it from 
 her as it is." 
 
 " I have been watchful and cautious— and we have not 
 
 U
 
 290 THE STORY OF CHAKLES STllANGE. 
 
 mixed much with the gossiping English. What ! going, 
 Charles ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have an engagement," I answered, as we both 
 rose. " Good-night, Level. Give my love to Blanche. Tell 
 her that Charley will see her to-morrow^ if he can squeeze 
 out a minute's leisure for it." 
 
 Taking up the old coat I had left in the passage, I went 
 out with it on my arm, hailed a cab that was crossing 
 Portman Square, and was driven to Lambeth. There I 
 recommenced my watch upon the book-stall and the street 
 containing it ; not, however, disclosing myself to Lee that 
 night. But nothing was to be seen of Tom Heriot.
 
 ( 291 ) 
 
 CHAPTER xxnr. 
 
 MRS. BRIGHTMAX. 
 
 " SUR this corns hoppin youle excuse blundurs beiu no 
 skoUerd sur missis is worse aud if youle com ive got som 
 things to tell you I darnt keep um any longer your umbil 
 servint emma hatch but doant say to peri as I sent." 
 
 This remarkable missive was delivered to me by the late 
 afternoon post. The schoolmaster must have been abroad 
 when Hatch received her education. 
 
 I had intended to spend the evening with Blanche. It 
 was the day after her arrival from France with Lord liCvol, 
 and I had not yet seen her. But this appeared to be some- 
 thing like an imperative summons, aud I resolved to attend 
 to it, 
 
 "The more haste, the less speed." The proverb ex- 
 emplifies itself very frequently in real life. Ordering my 
 dinner to be served half an hour earlier than usual, I had 
 no sooner taken it than a client called and detained me. 
 It was close upon eight o'clock when I reached Clapham. 
 
 Perry, the butler, received me as usual. " Oh, sir, such 
 a house as it is ! " he exclaimed, leading the way to the 
 drawing-room. " My mistress is in bed with brain-fever. 
 They were afraid of it yesterday, but it has quite shown 
 itself to-day. And "Miss Annabel is still at Hastings. I
 
 292 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 say she onght to be sent for ; Hatch says not, and tells me 
 to mind my own business : but " 
 
 Hatch herself iuterrapted the sentence. She came into 
 the room and ordered Perry out of it. The servants, even 
 Perry, had grown into the habit of obeying her. Closing 
 the door, she advanced to me as I stood warming my hands 
 at the fire, for it was a sharp night. 
 
 " Mr. Strange, sir," she began in low tones, " did you get 
 that epistle from me ? " 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 "You've not been down here much lately, sir. Last 
 night I thought you might come, the night afore I thought 
 it. The last time you did come you never stepped inside 
 the door." 
 
 " Where is the use of coming, Hatch, when I am always 
 told that Mrs. Brightman cannot see me, and that Miss 
 Annabel remains at Plastings ? " 
 
 " And a good thing that she do remain there," returned 
 Hatch. " Perry, the gaby, says, ' Send for Miss Annabel : 
 why don't you write for Miss Annabel ? ' But that his 
 brains is no bigger than one o' them she-gooses' on New- 
 land Common, he'd have found out why afore now. Sir," 
 continued Hatch, changing her tone, " I want to know 
 what I be to do. I'm not a person of edication or book- 
 learning, but my wits is alive, and they serves me instead. 
 For this two or three days past, sir, I've been thinking 
 that I ought to tell out to somebody responsible what it is 
 that's the matter with my missis, and I know of nobody 
 nearer the family than you, sir. There's her brother, in 
 course, at the Hall, Captain Chantrey, but my missis has 
 held herself aloof from him and Lady Grace, and I know^ 
 she'd be in a fine way if I spoke to him. Three or four 
 days ago I said to myself, ' The first time I see Mr. Strange, 
 I'll tell him the truth.' Last night she was worse than she
 
 MRS. BRIGHTMAN. 293 
 
 has been at all, quite raving. I got friglitcncd, wliicli is 
 a complaint I'm not given to, and resolved not to let 
 another day pass, and tlien, whether she lived or died, the 
 responsibility would not lie upon my back." 
 
 I stood gazing at Hatch. She had spoken rapidly. If I 
 had caught the words, I did not catch their meaning, 
 
 '* Yes ?." I said mechanically. 
 
 "And so, with morning light, sir, I wrote you that 
 epistle." 
 
 *' Yes, yes ; never mind all that. What about Mrs. 
 Brightman ? " 
 
 Hatch dropped her voice to a lower and more mysterious 
 whisper. " Sir, my missis gives way, she do." 
 
 " Gives way," I repeated, gazing at Hatch, and still 
 unable to see any meaning in the words. " What do you 
 say she does ? " 
 
 Hatch took a step forward, which brought her on the 
 hearthrug, close to me. " Yes, sir ; missis gives way." 
 
 " Gives way to what ? " I reiterated. " To her super- 
 stitious fancies ? " 
 
 "No, sir, to stimilinks." 
 
 " To — — " The meaning, in spite of Hatch's obscure 
 English, dawned upon me now. A cold shiver ran through 
 me. Annabel's mother ! and honoured Henry Brightman's 
 wife ! 
 
 " She takes stimulants ! " I gasped. 
 
 " Yes, sir ! stimiUnks," proceeded Hatch. " A'niost any 
 sort that comes anigh her. She likes wine and brandy 
 best ; but failing them, she'll drink others." 
 
 Question upon question rose to my mind. Had it been 
 known to Mr. Brightman ? Had it been a prolonged 
 habit ? Was it deeply indulged in ? But Annabel was her 
 child, and my lips refused to utter them. 
 
 " It has been the very plague of my life and my master's
 
 294 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 to keep it private these many months past," continued 
 Hatch. " ' Hatch does this in the house, and Hatch docs 
 the other,' the servants cry. Yes ; but my master knew 
 why I set up my authority ; and -missis knew it too. It 
 was to screen her." 
 
 " How could she have fallen into the habit ? " 
 
 "It has grown upon her by degrees, sir. A little at 
 first, and a little, and then a little more. As long as 
 master was here, she was kept tolerably in check, but since 
 his death there has been nobody to restrain her, except me. 
 "Whole davs she has been in her room, shuttins; out Miss 
 Annabel, under the excuse of headaches or lowness, drinking 
 all the time : and me there to keep the door. I'm sure the 
 black stories I have gone and invented, to pacify Miss 
 Annabel and put her off the right scent, would drive a 
 parson to his prayers." 
 
 " Then Miss Annabel does not know it ? " 
 
 " She do now," returned Hatch. " The first night there 
 was that disturbance in the house about missis seeing the 
 ghost, her room was thrown open in the fright, and all the 
 house got in. I turned the servants out : I dared not turn 
 out Miss Annabel, and she couldn't fail to see that her 
 mother was the worse for drink. So then I told her some, 
 and Mr. Close told her more next morning." 
 
 Annabel's strange grief, so mysterious to me, was 
 accounted for now. Hatch continued : 
 
 " You see now, sir, why Miss Annabel has been kept so 
 much at Hastings. Master would never have her at home 
 lor long together, afeared her mother might betray her- 
 self. He wanted to keep the child in ignorance of it 
 as long as it was possible. Miss Brightmau knew it. She 
 found it out the last time she Avas visiting here ; and she 
 begged my missis on her bended knees to be true to herself 
 and leave it off. Missis promised— and siich a ])ont of
 
 MRS. BKIGllTMAN. 295 
 
 crying they two had together afore Miss Lucy went away ! 
 For a time she did get l)etter ; hut it all came hack again. 
 And then came master's death — and the shock and grief of 
 that has made her give way more than she ever did. And 
 there it is, sir. The secret's got too weighty for mc ; I 
 coukln't keep it to myself any longer." 
 
 *' Perry says Mrs. Brightman is now lying ill with hrain- 
 fevor." 
 
 "Wc call it hrain-fever to the' servants, me and Mr. 
 Close ; it's near enough for them," was Hatch's cool reply. 
 " The curious thing is that Perry don't seem to suspect ; 
 he sees more of his missis than the rest do, and many a 
 time must have noticed her shaking. Last night her fit 
 of shaking was dreadful — and her fever too, for the matter 
 of that. She is as close as she well can be upon that 
 disorder that comes of drink. If it goes on to a climax, 
 nothing can save the disgrace from coming out downstairs." 
 Nothing could or would save it, in my opinion, down- 
 stairs or up, indoors or out. What a calamity ! 
 
 " But she is a trifle better to-night," continued Hatch. 
 " The medicines have taken effect at last, and put her into 
 a deep sleep, or else I couldn't be talking here." 
 
 " Did you invent the episode of Mr. Brightman's ghost, 
 Hatch, by way of accounting for Mrs. Brightman's state 
 to the servants ? " I inquired. 
 
 " / invent it ! " returned Hatch. " I didn't invent it. 
 My missis did see it. Not, I take it, that there was any 
 ghost to see, in one sense ; but when these poor creatures 
 is in the shakes, they fancy they see all kinds of things — 
 monkeys and demons, and such-like. I can't believe it was 
 master. I don't see why he should come back, being a good 
 man ; and good men that die in peace be pretty sure to rest 
 in their graves. Still, Pd not be too sure. It may be that 
 he comos back, as my nn"ssis fancies, to silently reproach
 
 296 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 her. It's odd that she always sees him in the same place, 
 and in his shroud. Several times she has seen him now, 
 and her description of how he looks never varies. Nothing- 
 will ever persuade her, sick or well, that it is fancy." 
 
 " You have seen him also, I hear ? " 
 
 " Not I," said Hatch. " I have upheld what my missis 
 says. For which was best, Mr. Strange, sir — to let the 
 servants think she is shaking and raving from fear of a 
 ghost, or to let 'em get to suspect her the worse for drink ? " 
 
 Hatch's policy had no doubt been wise in this. I told 
 her so. 
 
 " I have seen the shakes before to-day ; was used to 'em 
 when a child, as may be said," resumed Hatch. " I had a 
 step uncle, sir, mother's half-brother, who lived next door 
 to us ; he was give to drink, and he had 'em now and then. 
 Beer were his chief weakness ; wine is missis's. If that 
 step uncle of mine had been put to stand head downwards 
 in a beer barrel, Mr. Strange, he'd not have thought he had 
 enough. He'd be always seeing things, he would ; blue and 
 red and green imps that crawled up his bed-posts, and 
 hoiTid little black devils. He used to start out of doors and 
 run away for fear of 'em. Once he ran out with nothing 
 but his nightshirt on ; tore past the cottages all down the 
 village, and flung himself into the pond opposite the stocks. 
 All the women watching him from their doors and windows 
 followed after him. The men thought it were at least a 
 mad dog broke loose, seeing the women in pursuit like 
 that ; whereas it were nothing but my step uncle in one of 
 his bouts — half drownded. Mrs. Brightman would never 
 do such a thing as that, being a lady ; but they be all pretty 
 much alike for sense when the fit is on 'em." 
 
 " And Mr. Brightman knew of this, you say ? Knew 
 that she was given to— to liking stimulants ? " 
 
 *' He couldn't be off knowing of jt, sir, habiting, as he
 
 MRS. BRIGHTMAN. 297 
 
 did, the same rooms : and it has just bittered his Hfe out. 
 She has never had a downright bad attack, like this one, 
 therefore we could hide it from the servants and from !Miss 
 Annabel, but it couldn't be hided from him. He first spoke 
 to me about it six or seven months ago, when he was 
 having an iron bedstead put in the little room next to hers ; 
 until then he had made believe to me not to see it. Some- 
 times I know he talked to her, all lovingly and persuasively, 
 and I would see her with red eyes afterwards. I once heard 
 her say, * I will try, Henry ; indeed I will ; ' and I do 
 believe she did. But she got worse, and then master spoke 
 to Mr. Close." 
 
 " Has it been long growing upon her ? " I asked, in low 
 tones. 
 
 " Sir," returned Hatch, looking at me with her powerful 
 eyes, " it has been growing for years and years. I think it 
 came on, first, from idleness " 
 
 " From idleness ! " 
 
 " I mean what I say, sir. She married master for a 
 home, as it were, and she didn't care for him. She cared 
 for somebody else — but things wouldn't work convenient, 
 and they had to part. Miss Emma Chantrey was high-born 
 and beautiful, but she had no money, and the gentleman 
 had no money either, so it would not do. It was all over 
 and done with long before she knew Mr. Brightman. "Well, 
 sir, she married and come home here. But she never liked 
 the place ; commercial, she said, these neighbourhoods was, 
 round London, and the people were beneath her. So she 
 wouldn't visit, and she wouldn't sew nor read ; she'd just 
 sit all day long with her hands afore her, a-doing of 
 nothing. I saw that as soon as I took service here. 
 ' "Wait,' said I to myself, ' till the baby comes.' Well, it 
 came, sw'eet little Miss Annabel, but it didn't make a pin's 
 difference: missis got a maid for it, and then a governess,
 
 298 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 and turned her over to them. Xo more babies followed ; 
 pity but what a score of 'em had ; they might have roused 
 her from her apathy." 
 
 " But surely she did not give way, as you call it, then ? " 
 
 " No, not then. She was just ate up with weariness ; she 
 found no pleasure in life, and she did no work in it ; when 
 morning broke she'd wish the day was over ; and when 
 night came she'd wish it was morning ; and so the years 
 went by. Then she got to say — it come on quite imper- 
 ceptible — ' Hatch, get me a glass of wine ; I'm so low and 
 exhausted.' And I used to get her one, thinking nothing. 
 She took it then, just because she wanted something to 
 rouse her, and didn't know what. That was the beginning 
 of it, Mr. Strange." 
 
 "A very unfortunate beginning." 
 
 " But," continued Hatch, " after a while, she got to like 
 the wine, and in course o' time she couldn't do without it ; 
 a glass now and a glass then between her meals, besides 
 what she took with them, and it was a great deal ; pretty 
 nigh a bottle a-day I fancy, altogether. Master couldn't 
 make out how it was his wine went, and he spoke sharp to 
 Perry ; and when missis found that, she took to have some 
 in on her own account, unbeknowing to him. Then it grew 
 to brandy. Upon the slightest excuse, just a stitch in her 
 side, or her fingers aching, she would say, ' Hatch, I must 
 have half a glass of hot braudy-aud-watcr.' Folks don't 
 stop at the first liquor, sir, when it gets to that pitch ; my 
 step uncle would have swallowed vitriol sooner than have 
 kept to beer." 
 
 " Hatch, this is a painful tale." 
 
 "And I've not finished of it," w-as Hatch's response. 
 " Missis had an illness a year or eighteen months back ; 
 I dare say you remember it, sir. Weak enough she was 
 when she began to get about ; some i)eopU' thought she
 
 MRS. BRIGHTMAN. 299 
 
 wouldn't live. 'She must take stimilinks to strengtlicn 
 her,' says Close. ' She don't want stimilinks,' says I ; 
 'she'll get better without 'em;' for she was a taking of 
 'em then in secret, though he didn't know it. ' Mrs. 
 Brightman must take stimilinks,' says he to master. 'What- 
 ever you thinks necessary,' returns master — though if he 
 hadn't begun to suspect then, it's odds to me. And my 
 missis was not backward to take Close's stimilinks, and she 
 took her OAvn as well ; and that T look upon as the true 
 foundation of it all ; it might never have grown into 
 a haliit but for that ; and since then matters have been 
 going from bad to worse. It's a dangerous plan for doctors 
 to order stimilinks to weak people," added Hatch, re- 
 flectively ; " evil comes of it sometimes." 
 
 I had heard that opinion befoi'c ; more than once. I 
 had heard Mr. Brightman express it to a client who was 
 recovering from an illness. Was he thinking of his wife ? 
 
 " And for the last six months or so my missis has been 
 getting almost beyond control," resumed Hatch ; " one 
 could hardly keep her within l)Ouuds. Me and master 
 tried everything. We got Miss Annabel out of the way, 
 not letting her come home but for two or three days at 
 a time ; and them days — my patience ! if I hadn't to watch 
 missis like a cat ! She didn't wish to exceed in the day- 
 time when Miss Annabel was here, though she would at 
 night ; but you know, sir, these poor creatures can't keep 
 their resolves ; and if she once got a glass early, then all 
 her prudence went to the winds. 1 did my best ; master 
 did his best ; and she'd listen, and be reasonable, and say 
 she'd touch nothing. But upon the least temptation she'd 
 give Avay. My belief is, she couldn't help it ; when it 
 comes to this stage it's just a disease. A disease, Mr. 
 Strange, like the measles or the yellow jaundice, and they 
 can't put it ivom 'cm if thoy would."
 
 300 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 True. 
 
 " On the Thursday night, it was the Thursday before 
 the master died, there was a quarrel," Hatch went on. 
 " Mrs. Brightmau was not fit to appear at the dinner- 
 table, and her dinner was sent up to her room, and master 
 came upstairs afterwards, and they had words. Master 
 said he should send Miss Annabel to Hastings in the 
 morning and keep her there, for it would be impossible to 
 hide matters from her longer if she stayed at home. Mvs. 
 Brightman, who was not very bad, resented that, and called 
 him harsh names : generally speaking, she was as humble 
 as could be, knowing herself in the wrong and feeling 
 ashamed of it. They parted in anger. Master was as 
 good as his word ; he sent Miss Annabel with Sarah down 
 to Hastings on the Friday morning to Miss Brightman. 
 In the evening, when he came home to dinner, missis was 
 again the worse for drink. But on the Saturday morning 
 she was up betimes, afore the household even, and had 
 ordered the carriage, and went whirling off with me to the 
 station to take the first train for Hastings. ' I shall return 
 on Monday and bring back Annabel,' she said to master, 
 when she was stepping into the carriage at the door, and 
 he ran out to ask where she was going, for he had not 
 seen nor heard nothing about it. ' Very well,' said he, in 
 a whisper ; ' only come back as you ought to come.' Mr. 
 Strange, I think those were the only words that passed 
 between them after the quarrel." 
 
 " You mean the quarrel on the Thursday night ? " 
 " Yes, sir ; there was no other quarrel. We went to the 
 Queen's Hotel. And on the Sunday, if you remember, you 
 came down to tell us of the master's sudden death. ]\[rs. 
 Brightman was ill that morning, really ill, I mean, with 
 one of her dreadful headaches — which she did have at 
 times, and when she didn't they was uncommon conveiu'ent
 
 MBS. BRIGHTMAK. 301 
 
 things for tne to fall back upon if I uecded an excuse for 
 her. She had meant to go to church, but was not able. 
 She had had too much ou the Saturday night, though she 
 was always more prudent out than at home, and was worried 
 iu mind besides. But, to be sure, how she did take on 
 about master's death when alone with me. Tliey had 
 parted bad friends : leastways had not made it up after 
 the quarrel ; she knew how aggravathig she had been to 
 him in it, and a notion got hold of her that he might have 
 poisoned himself. When she learnt the rights of it, that 
 he had died peaceful and natural, she didn't get much 
 happier. She was perpetually saying to me, as the days 
 went on, that her conduct had made him miserable. She 
 drank then to drown care ; she fancied she saw all sorts 
 
 of things, and when it came to master's ghost " 
 
 " She could not have been sober when she fancied that." 
 "Nor was she," returned Hatch. "Half-and-half like; 
 bad enough to betray herself to Miss Annabel. ' Now don't 
 you go and contradict about the ghost,' I says to her, poor 
 child ; ' better let the kitchen think it's a ghost than 
 braudy-and-water.' Frightful vexed and ashamed missis 
 was, when she grew sober, to find that Miss Annabel knew 
 the truth. She told her she must go to her aunt at 
 Hastings for a time : ]\Ir. Close, he said the same. Miss 
 Annabel would not go ; she said it was not right that she 
 should leave her mother, and there was a scene ; miss 
 sobbing and crying, mistress angry and commanding ; 
 but it ended in her going. ' I don't want no spies upon 
 me,' says missis to me, ' and she shall stop at Hastings for 
 good.' Since then she has been giving way unbearable, 
 and the end of it is, she has got the shakes." 
 
 What a life ! What a life it had been for Mr. Bright- 
 man ! Lennard had thought of late that he appeared as 
 a man who bore about him some hidden grief ! Once,
 
 30li THE STOKY OF CllAllLES STllANGE. 
 
 wlieii he had seemed low-spirited, I asked whether any- 
 thing was wrong. "We all 'have our trials, Charles ; some 
 more, some less," was the answer, in tones that rather shut 
 nie up. 
 
 Hatch would fain have talked on : if wdne was her 
 mistress's weakness, talking was hers ; but she was in- 
 terrupted by the arrival of J\Ir. Close, and had to attend 
 him upstairs. On his return he came into the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 " This is a disagreeable business, Mr. Strange. Hatch 
 tells me she has informed you of the true nature of the case." 
 
 A disagreeable business ! The light words, the matter- 
 of-fact tone seemed as a mockery. The business nearly 
 overwhelmed me. 
 
 "When you met me the other night, at the gate, and 
 spoke of Mrs. Brightman's illness, I was uncertain how to 
 answer you," continued Mr. Close. " I thought it probable 
 you might be behind the curtain, connected as you are with 
 the family, but I was not sure." 
 
 " I never had the faintest suspicion of such a thing, until 
 Hatch's comnumication to me to-night. She says her young 
 mistress, even, did not know of it." 
 
 " No ; they have contrived to keep it from Annabel." 
 
 " Will Mrs. Brightman recover .? " 
 
 "From this illness? oh dear yes! She is already in a 
 fair way for it, having dropped into a needed sleep ; which 
 is all we want. H" you mean will she recover from tlie 
 liabit — why, I cannot answer you. It has obtained a safe 
 hold upon her." 
 
 " What is to be done ? " 
 
 " What cau be done ? " returned the surgeon. " Mrs. 
 Brightman is her own mistress, subject to no control, and 
 has a good income at command. She may go on drinking 
 to llif end."
 
 una. BKIGHT.MAN. 303 
 
 Go ou drinking to the end I "What a fearful thought ! 
 what a fearful life ! Could notJtiiuj be done to prevent it ; 
 to recall her to herself ; to her responsibility for this world 
 and the next ? 
 
 " I have seen much of these cases," continued Mr. Close ; 
 " few medical men more. Before I came into this practice 
 I was assistant-surgeon to one of the debtors' prisons up in 
 town : no school equal to that in all Europe for initiating 
 a man into the mysteries of the disorder." 
 
 " Ay, so I believe. But can Mrs. Brightman's case be 
 like those cases ? " 
 
 *' Why should it differ from them ? The same habits 
 have induced it. Of course, she is not yet as bad as some 
 of them are, but unless she pulls up she will become so. 
 Her great chance, her one chance, I may say, would be to 
 place herself under some proper control. But this would 
 require firm resolution and self-denial. To liegin with, she 
 would have to leave her home." 
 
 " This cannot be a desirable home for Annabel." 
 
 '' No. Were she my child, she should not return to it." • 
 
 " What is to be done when she recovers from this 
 attack ? " 
 
 " In what way ? " 
 
 In what way, truly ! i\Iy brain was at work over the 
 difficulties of the future. AVas Mrs. Brightman to live on 
 in this, her home, amidst her household of curious servants, 
 amidst the prying neighbours, all of whom would re\cl in 
 a tale of scandal ? 
 
 " When she is sufficiently well she should have change of 
 air," proceeded the doctor, " and get her nerves braced up. 
 Otherwise she may be seeing that ghost for six months to 
 come. A strange fancy that, for her to take up— and yet 
 perhaps not S3 very strange, taking all things into con- 
 sideration. She is full of remorse, thinking she might have
 
 sot THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 done her duty better by her husband, made him less unhappy 
 and all that. Mrs. Brightmau is a gentleAvoman of proud, 
 elevated instincts : she would be only too thankful to leave 
 off this demoralizing habit ; in a way, I believe she strives 
 to do so, but it is stronger than she is." 
 
 " It has become worse, Hatch says, since Mr. Brightman 
 died." 
 
 " Undoubtedly," concluded Mr. Close, " She had taken 
 it to drown care."
 
 ( 305 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 MY LORD AND MY LADY. 
 
 The breakfasL-Uiblc was laid in Gloucester Place, waiiinfij 
 for Lord aud Lady Level. It was the da.j followiuo- the 
 one recorded in the last chapter. A clear, bright morning, 
 til" sun shining hotly. 
 
 Blanche came in, wearing a dainty white dress. Her 
 face, though thin, was fair aud lovely as ever ; her eyes 
 were as blue and brilliant. Ringing for the coffee to be 
 Ijrought in, she began turning over the letters on the table : 
 one for herself, which she saw was from ]\Irs. Guy ; three 
 for her husband. Of these, one bore the Paris postmark. 
 
 " Here is a letter from Paris, Archibald," she said as he 
 entered. " I think from Madame Sauvage, for it is like 
 her writing. I hope it is to say that she has sent off the 
 box." 
 
 " That you may regain possession of your fuiory," rejoined 
 Lord Level, with a light, pleasant laugh. " Eh, Blanche ? " 
 
 " Well, my new lace mantle is in it. So stupid of Timms 
 to have made the mistake ! " 
 
 " So it was. I dare say the box is on its way by this 
 time." 
 
 Blancnc began to pour out the coffee. Lord Level had 
 gone to the window, and was looking up and down the 
 street. As he took his seat to begin breakfast, he pushed 
 
 X
 
 30G THE STOEY OF CHARLES STIIANGE. 
 
 the letters away idly without opening them, and remarked 
 upon the fineness of the morning. 
 
 They were fairly good friends, these two ; always courteous, 
 save when Blanche was seized with a fit of jealousy, per- 
 suading herself, rightly or wrongly, that she had cause for 
 it. Then she would be cross, bitter, snappish. Once in 
 a way I^ord Level retorted in kind ; though on the whole 
 he was patient and gentle with her. In the midst of it all 
 she loved him passionately at heart, and sometimes let him 
 know it. 
 
 "As it is so fine a day, Archibald, you might take me to 
 Kensington, to call on Mrs. Page Eeid, this afternoon. 
 8he sent us her address, you know." 
 
 " I would rather not, Blanche, unless you particularly 
 wish it. I don't care to keep up Mrs. Page Ptcid's ac- 
 quaintance. She's good for nothing but to talk scandal." 
 
 "I do not much care for her either," acknowledged 
 Blanche. " We are not in the least obliged to renew her 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " I wull take you somewhere else instead," said he, pleased 
 at her acquiescence. " We will go out after luncheon and 
 make an afternoon of it — like Darby and Joan." 
 
 Presently, when breakfast was nearly over, Blanche opened 
 her letter from Mrs. Guy ; reading out scraps of it to her 
 husband. It told of Major Carlen's arrival— so that he had 
 really gone to Jersey. Then she took up the Times. An 
 unusual thing for her to do. She did not care for news- 
 papers, and Lord Level did not have them sent to him when 
 in Paris : he saw the English journals at the club. No 
 doubt he had his reasons for so doing. 
 
 Meanwhile he was opening his own letters. The one 
 from Paris came last. Had his wife been looking at him, 
 she might have seen a sudden change pass over his face as 
 he read it, a;i thongh svtartled by some doubt or perplexity.
 
 MY LOUD AND MY LADY. 307 
 
 "Archibald, what cau this mean:'" exclaimed Blauchc 
 in breathless tones. " Listen : ' The names of the live 
 convicts said to have escaped from the ship Veiujeance after 
 her wreck on the island, snpposcd to be that of Tristan 
 d'Acunha, are the following : George Ford, Walter Green, 
 John Andison, Nathaniel Markham, and Thomas Heriot.' 
 That is Tom's name." 
 
 Cramming all his letters into his breast-pocket with 
 a hnrried movement, Lord Level (jnietly took the paper 
 from his wife's hands. This was the very contretemps he 
 had so long striven to gnard against. 
 
 " My dear Blanche, do you suppose there is only one 
 Thomas Heriot in the world ? " cried he, carelessly. " ' Ship 
 Venrjeance ?' ' Escape of convicts ? ' Oh, it is something 
 that has happened over at Botany Bay." 
 
 " Well, the name startled me at the moment. I'm sure 
 Tom might as well be a convict as anything else for all the 
 news he sends us of hims3lf." 
 
 " He was always careless, you know, and detested letter- 
 writing." 
 
 Carrying away the paper, Lord Level left the room and 
 went to the one behind it, of which he made a sort of study. 
 There he sat down, spread the letter from Paris before him 
 on the table, and reperused it. 
 
 " Confound the woman ! " he remarked. " I shall have 
 to go down there now ! " 
 
 Breakfast removed, Blanche began at once to write to 
 Mrs. Guy, AN'hose letter required an answer. That over, 
 she put on her bonnet to call on Mrs. Arnold Ravensworth 
 in Langham Place. She had called on the previous day, 
 but found Mr. and Mrs. llavensworth out of town : they 
 were expected home that evening. So now Blanche went 
 
 again. 
 
 Yes, they had arrived ; and had l-ronght with them
 
 308 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Blanche's old friend, Cecilia Ravensworth, from AVhite 
 Littleliam Eectory. 
 
 How liappy they were together, these two ! It seemed 
 an age since they had parted, and yet it was not in reality 
 so very long ago. Lady Level remained the best part of 
 the morning, talking of the old days of her happy yet 
 uneventfnl girlhood. 
 
 Strolling leisnrely through Cavendish Square on her way 
 home, Blanche fell to thinking of the afternoon : speculating 
 as to where her husband meant to take her. Perhaps to 
 Hampton Court : she had never seen it, and would like to 
 do so : she would ask him to take her there. Quickening 
 her pace, she soon reached her own door, and saw an 
 empty cab drawn up before it. 
 
 " Is auy visitor here ? " she asked of Sanders, when 
 admitted. 
 
 "No, my lady. I have just called the cab for his 
 lordship." 
 
 Lord Level came out of the study at the sound of licr 
 voice, and turned with her into the front room. She 
 thought he looked vexed — hurried. 
 
 " Blanche," he began, " I find I have to run down to 
 Marshdale. But I shall not be away more than a night 
 if I can help it, I shall be back to-morrow if possible ; if 
 not, you may expect me the next day for certain." 
 
 "To Marshdale ! " she repeated, in surprise and vexation. 
 " Then you will not be able to take me out this afternoon ! 
 I was hoping it might be to Hampton Court." 
 
 " You shall go to Hampton Court when I return." 
 
 " Take me with you to Marshdale." 
 
 " I cannot," he replied decisively. " I am going down 
 on business." 
 
 " Why did you not tell me of it this morning ? Why 
 have proposed to— — "
 
 UY LORD AND MY LADY. BOO 
 
 "i ciki nob know of it then," lie iutciTiiptecl. "How 
 dismayed you look, Blanche ! " he added, half hmghing;. 
 
 " I shall be very lonely, Archibald— all l)y myself here 1 " 
 
 He said no more, but stooped to kiss her, and left the 
 room, looking at his watch. 
 
 " I did not think it was (|uite i-'o late ! " he exclaimed. 
 Turning sharjdy, for he had been about to entei* the study, 
 he approached the front door, hesitated, then turned again, 
 and went into the study. 
 
 " No, I can't stop," he said, coming to a final decision, 
 as he once more came forth, shut the study door after him, 
 and locked it, but did not take out the key. " Blanche, 
 don't let any one come in here ; I have left all my papers 
 at sixes and sevens. If I wait to put them up I shall not 
 catch Jenning.". 
 
 " Are you going to the station now, Archibald ? " 
 
 *' No, no ; I want to see Jenning. I shall come back 
 before leaving." 
 
 Getting into the cab. Lord Level was whirled away. 
 Sanders closed the house-door. And Blanche, ascending 
 the stairs to her chamber, in the slow manner we are apt 
 to assume after experiencing some unexpected check, and 
 untying her bonnet as she went up, came upon her maid 
 Timms. Timms appeared to be in trouble : her face was 
 gloomy and wet with tears. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " exclaimed her mistress. 
 " Uj lady, I can't undei'stand it. My belief is she stole 
 it, and nothing less. But for that dreadful sea-passage, 
 there and back, I'd go over myself to-day, if your ladyship 
 would spare me." 
 
 " Now, Timms, what are you talking about ? " 
 "Why, of the box, my lady. I was that vexed at its 
 being left behind that I scribbled a few lines to Yictorine 
 from Dover, telling her to get Sauvage not to delay iu
 
 310 THE STUIIY OF CHAllLES STIJANGE. 
 
 sendiug it on. And I've got her answer this morning, 
 denying that any box has l)cen left. Leastways, saying 
 that she can't see it." 
 
 While Tlnims was speaking, she had pulled a note out of 
 her pocket, and offered it to her mistress. It was fi'om 
 their late chambermaid, and written iu curious English for 
 Timms' benefit, who was no French scholar, and it certainly 
 denied that the box inquired for, or any other box, had 
 been left behind, so far as she, Victorine, could ascertain. 
 
 AVhen departing from Paris three days before, Timms, 
 counting over the luggage with Sanders, discovered at the 
 station that one of the boxes was missing, left behind in 
 their apartments by her own carelessness. The train was 
 on the point of starting, and there was no time to return ; 
 but Lord Level despatched a message by a commissionaire 
 to the concierge, Sauvage, to send it on to London by 
 grande vitesse. The box contained wearing apparel belong- 
 ing to Lady Level, and amidst it a certain dark silk dress 
 which Timms had long coveted. Altogether she was iu a 
 state of melancholy self-reproach, and had wi-itten to 
 Victorine from Dover, urging speed. Victoriue's answer, 
 delivered this morning, had completely upset Timms. 
 
 Lady Level laughed gaily. " Cheer up, Timms," she 
 said ; " the box is on its way. Lord Level has had a letter 
 from Madame Sauvage this morning." The concierge 
 himself was no scribe, and his wife always did the writing 
 for him. 
 
 Timms dashed her tears away. " Oh, my lady, how 
 thankful I am ! "What could Victorine mean, I wonder ? 
 When was the box sent off ? Does your ladyship know ? " 
 
 " No — 0. I — don't know what the letter does say," 
 added Lady Level, calling to mind that she was as yet 
 ignorant of its contents. '• I forgot all about it after Lord 
 T-ievel opened it."
 
 MY hUKl) A.\'D ]\1V LADY. ^Jll 
 
 Timius (lid not ([uitc comprelieiul. "But— I beg yonr 
 pardon, my lady — I suppose Jladanic Sauvagc does say they 
 liave sent it off ? " 
 
 " I dare say she does. What else should she write for ? " 
 
 The maid's countenance fell considerably. 
 
 " But, my lady," she remonstrated, wise in her superior 
 age and experience, " if— if your ladyship has not read the 
 letter, it may be just the opposite. To pretend, like 
 Yictorine, that they have not found the box. Yictorine 
 may have spirited it away without their kuowledge. She 
 would uncommoidy like to get some of those dresses for 
 herself." 
 
 This view scarcely appeared feasible to Lady Level. 
 " How silly you are, Timnis ! " she cried, " You can only 
 look at the dark side of the case. As if Lord Level would 
 not have told me had it been that news ! I wonder where 
 he put the letter ? I will look for it." 
 
 " If you would be so kind, my lady ! so as to set the 
 doubt at rest," 
 
 That she should liud the letter on her husband's table, 
 Blanche no more doubted than that it was written by 
 ]\[adame Sauvage to announce the despatch of the box, 
 8he ran down to the study, unlocked the door, and entered. 
 
 The table was covered with a confused mass of papers, 
 lieaped one upon another. It seemed as though liord Level 
 must have been looking for some deed or other. A despatch- 
 box, usually crammed with i)apcrs, stood on the table, open 
 and empty. At the opposite corner was his desk ; but tliat 
 was locked. 
 
 For a moment Blanche thought she would abandon her 
 search. The confusion looked too formidable to be meddled 
 with, Well for her own peace of mind had she not done so ! 
 
 Bending forward, for papers lay on the carpet as well as 
 the table, slic let her eyes range over the litter, slightly
 
 312 TOE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 lifting with her thumb and forefinger a paper here and 
 there, hoping to discern the required letter. Quite by a 
 stroke of good fortune she came upon it. Good fortune 
 or ill — which ? 
 
 It lay, together with the two letters which had come 
 with it, under an open parchment, close before Lord 
 Level's chair. One of these letters was from Mr. Jenning, 
 his confidential solicitor, requesting his lordship to be with 
 him at twelve o'clock that morning on a special matter ; 
 but that had nothing to do with Blanche, or with us either. 
 She opened the envelope of the one she wished to see, and 
 took out its letter. 
 
 But it was not a letter ; not, at least, as letters run in 
 general. It was only a piece of thin paper folded once, 
 which bore a few lines in a fine, pointed Italian hand, and 
 in faint-coloured ink, somewhat difficult to decipher. 
 
 Now it must be premised that Lady Level had no more 
 thought of prying into what concerned her husband, and 
 did not concern herself, than a child could have had. She 
 would not have been guilty of such a thing for the world. 
 Any one of those parchments or papers, lying open before 
 her eyes, she would Lave deemed it the height of dishonour 
 to read a word of. This letter from the wife of their late 
 concierge, containing news of her own lost box, was a 
 different matter. 
 
 But though the address to Lord Level was undoubtedly 
 in the handwriting of Madame Sauvage, the inside was 
 not. Blanche strained her eyes over it. 
 
 " I arrive to-day at Paris, and find you departed for 
 England with your wife and servants. I come straight 
 on from Pisa without halting, to inform you of a dis- 
 covery we have made ; there was no time to write. As 
 I am so near, it is well to use the opportunity to pay a
 
 MY LORD AKD MY LADY. 813 
 
 short visit to Slars-liclalc to see the child, and I start tliis 
 evening for it ; you can join me there. Pardon the trouble 
 I give you. — Nina." 
 
 AVith her face flaming, with trembling hands and short- 
 ened breath, Lady Level gathered in the words and their 
 meaning. Nina ! It was the Italian girl, the base woman 
 who had troubled before her peace of mind, and who must 
 have got Madame Sauvage to address the letter. Evidently 
 she did not mean, the shameless siren, to let Lord Level 
 be at rest. And — and — and what was the meaning of that 
 allusion about " the child " ? 
 
 Leaving the letter precisely as she had found it, under 
 the sheet of parchment, Lady Level quitted the room and 
 turned the key in the door again. Not for very shame, 
 now that this shameful secret had been revealed to her, 
 would she let her husband know that she had entered. 
 Had she found only what she sought, she would have said 
 openly to him on his return : " Archibald, I went in for 
 Madame Sauvage's note and found it. I hope you don't 
 mind — we were anxious about the box." But somehow 
 her eyes were now opened to the fact that she had been 
 guilty of a dishonourable action, one that could not be 
 excused or justified. Had he not locked his door against 
 intruders — herself as well as others ? 
 
 Passing into the front room, where the table was now 
 being laid for luncheon, which they took at one o'clock, 
 she drew a chair near the fire, mechanically watching 
 Sanders as he placed the dishes on the table, in reality 
 seeing [nothing, her mind in a painful and rebellious 
 tumult. 
 
 Tirams came stealing in. How any lady could be so 
 indifferent as her lady when a box of beautiful clothes was 
 at stake, Timms could not understand : sitting quietly
 
 314 THE HTOllY OF CHAKLES STKANGE. 
 
 there over the fire, and never coming back to set a body's 
 mind at rest with yes or no. 
 
 " I beg pardon for intruding," began Timms, with 
 deprecation, "but did your ladyship find Madame Sauvage's 
 letter ? " 
 
 " No," curtly replied Lady Level. " I dare say the box 
 is lost. Not much matter if it is." 
 
 Timms withdrew, lifting her hands in condemning 
 displeasure when she got outside. " Not much matter ! 
 if ever I heard the like of that ! A whole trunk////// and 
 some of 'em lovely ! " 
 
 " Will you sit down, now, my lady, or wait for his lord- 
 ship ? " inquired Sanders. 
 
 Lady Level answered the question by taking her place 
 at the table. She felt as though she should never care to 
 wait for her husband again, for luncheon or anything else. 
 In a few minutes a cab dashed up to the door, bringing him, 
 
 "That's right, Blanche ; I am glad you did not wait 
 for me," he began. " Sanders, is my hand-bag ready ? " 
 
 " Quite, my lord." 
 
 " Put it into the cab, then." 
 
 He hastened into the study as he spoke, and began 
 putting things straight there with a deft and rapid hand. 
 In an" incredibly short time the papers were all in order, 
 locked up in their various receptacles, and the table was 
 cleared. 
 
 " Good-bye, my love," said he, returning to the front 
 room. 
 
 " Do you not take anything to eat ? " asked Blanche, in 
 short and sullen tones, which he was in too great a Imrry 
 to notice. 
 
 " No : or I should lose the train." 
 
 He caught her to him. Blanche turned her face away. 
 
 "You silly child ! you are cross witli me for leaving you.
 
 MY J.UKD AND MY LADY. 315 
 
 My deal', believe rnc, / could not help it. Charley is coming 
 up to dine with you this evening." 
 
 Leaving his kisses on her lips, but getting none in return, 
 TiOrd Level went out to the cab. As it drove away, there 
 came up to the door a railway luggage van. The lost liox 
 had arrived from Paris. Timms knelt down with extra 
 fervour that night to offer up her thanksgivings. 
 
 Lord Level had snatched a moment to look in upon me, 
 and ask me to dine with Blanche that evening. 
 
 " She is not pleased at being left alone," he said ; " but 
 I am obliged to run down to Marshdale. And, riiarley, 
 she saw something about Tom in the paper this morning : 
 I had to turn it off in the best way I could : so be cautious 
 if she mentions it to you." 
 
 I had meant to look after Tom Heriot again that even- 
 ing, but could not refuse this. Blanche was unusually 
 silent throughout dinner. 
 
 " Is onything the matter, Blanche ? " I asked her, when 
 we were in the drawing-room. 
 
 '* A great deal is the matter," she replied resentfully. 
 " I am not going to put up with it." 
 
 " Put up with what ? " 
 
 "Oh— with Lord Level. With his— his deceit. But 
 I can't tell you now, Charles : I shall speak to himself 
 first." 
 
 I laughed. " More jealousy cro])ping up ! What has ho 
 done now, Blanche ? " 
 
 "What has he gone to Marshdale for?" retort td 
 Blanche, her cheeks flaming. "And what did he go to 
 Pisa for when we were last in Paris ? " continued she, 
 without pausing. " He did go. It was in December ; 
 and he was away ten days." 
 
 " Well, I suppose som« matter or other called him there,"
 
 316 THE STORY OF CilARLES STllANGE. 
 
 I said. " As to Marslidalc— it is liis place ; his home. 
 Why should this annoy you, Blanche ? A man cannot 
 carry his wife with him everywhere." 
 
 " / know," she said, catching up her fan, and beginning 
 to use it sharply. " I know more than you do, Charles. 
 More than he thinks for — a great deal more." 
 
 " It strikes me, my dear, that you are doing your best 
 to estrange your husband from you — if you speak to him 
 as you are speaking now. That will not enhance your own 
 happiness, Blanche." 
 
 "The fault is his," she cried, turning her hot face 
 defiantly upon me. 
 
 " It may be. I don't think so." 
 
 " He does not care for me at all. He cares for — for — ■ 
 somebody else." 
 
 " You may be mistaken. I should be sorry to believe it. 
 But, even should it be so — listen, Blanche — even should it 
 be so, you will do well to change your tactics. Try ami win 
 him harh to you. I tell it you for the sake of your own 
 happiness." 
 
 Blanche tossed back her golden curls, and rose. " How 
 old-fashioned you are, Charles ! it is of no use talking to 
 you. Will you sing our old duet with me — ' I've wandered 
 in dreams ' ? " 
 
 " Ay. But I am out of practice." 
 
 She had taken her place on the music-stool, and was play- 
 ing the first bars of the song, when a thought struck her, 
 and she turned round. 
 
 " Charley, such a curious thing happened this morning. 
 I saw in the Times a list of some escaped convicts, who had 
 been on their way to Van Diemen's Land, and amongst 
 them was the name of Thomas Heriot. For a minute it 
 startled and frightened me." 
 
 Her eyes were upon my face, so was the light. Having a
 
 MY LORD AND MY LADY. 317 
 
 piece of music in my Laud, I let it fall, aud stoojicd to pick 
 it up. 
 
 " Was it not strange, Charles ? " 
 
 " Not particularly so. There may be a hundred Tom 
 Herlots in the world." 
 
 "That's "what Archibald said— or something to the same 
 effect. But do you know, I cannot get it out of my head. 
 And Tom's not writing to us from India has seemed to me 
 all day more strangely odd than it did before." 
 
 " India is a regular lazy place. The heat makes people 
 indolent and indifferent." 
 
 " Yes, I know. Besides, as papa said to me in the few 
 minutes we were talking together Ijefore he went away, 
 Tom may have written and the letters not have reached us. 
 The mail from India is by no means a safe one, he says ; 
 letters often get lost by it." 
 
 " By no means safe ; no end of letters are lost continually," 
 I murmured, seconding old Carlen's invention, knowing not 
 what else to say. " Let us go on, Blanche, It is I who 
 begin, I think — ' I've wandered in dreams.' " 
 
 Wandered in dreams ! If this misery connected with 
 Tom Heriot were only a dream and not a reality !
 
 318 THE HTORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 ON THE AVATCH. 
 
 Me. Serjeant Stillingfar sat at dinner in his bouse in 
 Russell Square one Sunday afternoon. A great cause, in 
 which he was to lead, had brought him up from circuit, to 
 which he would return when the Nisi Prius trial was over. 
 The cloth was being removed when I entered. He received 
 me with his usual kindly welcome. 
 
 " Why not have come to dinner, Charles ? Just had it ? 
 All the more reason why we might have taken it together. 
 Sit down, and help yourself to wine." 
 
 Declining the wine, I drew my chair near to his, and told 
 him what I had come about, 
 
 A. few days had gone on since the last chapter. With the 
 trouble connected with Mrs. Brightman, and the troulMc 
 connected with Tom Heriot, I had enough on my mind at 
 that time, if not upon my shoulders. As regarded Mrs. 
 Brightman, no one could help me ; but regarding the 
 oLher 
 
 AVas Tom in London, or was he not ? How was 1 to find 
 out ? . 1 had again gone prowling about tlie book-stall and 
 its environs, but without result. Had Leah really seen 
 liini, or only seen some one who resembled him ? 
 
 Worried, disheartened, 1 determined to cai-iy the per- 
 plexity t'j the Serjeant. That he was true as steel, full of
 
 ON THE WATCH. 310 
 
 loving-kiudncss to nil the world, no matter what their 
 errors, and that he would aid me with his counsel — if 
 couusel could avail — I well knew. And thus I found my- 
 self at his house on that Sunday afternoon. Of course he 
 had heard about the escape of the convicts ; had seen Tom's 
 name in the list ; but he did not know that he was suspected 
 of iiaving reached London. 
 
 " And now, what can be done. Uncle Stillingfar ? I 
 have come to ask you." 
 
 ills kindly l)lue eyes became thoughtful. "Indeed, I 
 know not," he answered. " Either you must Avait in 
 patience until he turns up some fine day — as he is sure 
 to do if he is in London — or you must quietly pursue 
 your search, and smuggle him away when found." 
 
 " But if I don't find him ? Is it possible that he can be 
 in London ? Did you ever know any one so recklessly 
 imprudent ? " 
 
 " I have never known any one so reckless as Tom Heriot. 
 You must do your best to find him, Charles." 
 
 " I don't know how, and thought you might possibly have 
 suggested some plan. Every day increases his danger." 
 
 " It does : and the chances of his being recognized." 
 
 " It seems useless to search further in Lambeth : he must 
 have changed his quarters. And to search through London 
 will be like looking for a needle in a bottle of hay. I sup- 
 pose," I slowly added, " it would not do to employ a 
 detective ? " 
 
 " Not unless you wish to put him into the lion's mouth," 
 said the Serjeant. " Why, Charles, it would be his business 
 to retake him. Rely upon it, the authorities are noAV look- 
 ing for him if they have the slightest suspicion that he is 
 here." 
 
 At that time one or two private detectives had started in 
 business on their own account, having nothing to do with
 
 320 TQE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 the police : now they had sprung up in numbers. It was 
 to these I alkided. 
 
 Serjeant Stillingfar shook his head. " I would not trust 
 one of them, Charles : ifc would be too dangerous an experi- 
 ment. No ; what you do, you must do yourself. Once 
 let Government get scent that he is here, and we shall 
 probably find the walls placarded with a reward for his 
 appreheosion." 
 
 " One thing I am surprised at," I said as I rose to leave : 
 "that if he is here, he should not have let me know it. 
 "What can he be doing for money ? An escaped convict 
 is not likely to have much about him." 
 
 " There arc points about the affair that I cannot fathom," 
 returned Serjeant Stillingfar. " Talking of money — you are 
 well-off now, but if more than you can spare should be 
 needed to get Tom Heriot away, apply to me." 
 
 " Thank you, uncle ; but I don't think it will be needed. 
 Where would you recommend him to escape to ? " 
 
 " Find him first," was the Serjeant's answer. 
 
 He accompanied me to the front door. As we stood, 
 speaking a last word, a middle-aged man, with keen eyes 
 and spare frame, dressed as a workman, came up with 
 a brisk step. The Serjeant met the smile on the man's 
 face as he glanced up in passing. 
 
 " Arkwright ! " he exclaimed. " I hardly knew you. 
 Some sharp case in hand, I conclude ? " 
 
 " Just so, Serjeant ; but I hope to bring it to earth 
 before the day's over. You know " 
 
 Then the man glanced at me and paused. 
 
 " However, I mustn't talk about it now, so good-afternoon, 
 Serjeant." And thus speaking, he walked briskly onwards. 
 
 " I wonder what he has in hand ? He would have told 
 me, but for your being present," cried my uncle, looking 
 after him. " A keen man is Arkwright."
 
 ON THE WATCH. 321 
 
 " Arliwrlglit ! " I echoed, the name now impressing itself 
 upon me. " Surely not the famous detective ! " 
 
 " Yes, it is. And he has evidently got himself up as a 
 workman to farther some case in hand. He knew you, 
 Charles ; depend upon that ; though you did not know 
 him." 
 
 A fear, perhaps a foolish one, fell upon me. " Surely the 
 case in hand cannot be Toni's ? " I breathed. 
 
 "No, no. That is not likely," he answered, after a 
 moment's consideration. " Anyway, you must use every 
 exertion to find him, for his stay in London is full of 
 danger." 
 
 Monday was bright and frosty ; Monday evening clear, 
 cold and starlight. The gas-lights flared away in the 
 streets and shops ; the roads were lined with wayfarers. 
 
 Sauntering down the narrow pavement on the opposite 
 side of the way, in the purposeless manner that a hopeless 
 man favours, I approached the book-stall. A sailor was 
 standing before it, his head bent over the volumes. Every 
 pulse within me went up to fever heat : for there was that 
 about him that reminded me of Tom Heriot. 
 
 I crossed quietly to the stall, stood side by side with him, 
 and took up a handful of j)enny dreadfuls. Yes, it was 
 Tom Heriot. 
 
 " Tom," I softly cried. " Is it you, Tom ? " 
 
 I felt the start he gave. But he did not move hand or 
 foot ; only his eyes turned to scan me. 
 
 " Tom," I whispered again, apparently intent upon a 
 grand picture of a castle in flames, and a gentleman 
 miraculously escaping with a lady from an attic window. 
 " Tom, surely you know me ? " 
 
 " For goodness' sake don't speak to me, Charley ! " he 
 breathed in answer, the words barely audible. " Go away, 
 for the love of heaven ! I've been a prisoner here for the 
 
 Y
 
 322 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 last three minutes. That policeman yonder would know 
 me, and I dare not turn. It's Wren." 
 
 Three doors off, a poUceman was standing on the pave- 
 ment, facing the shops, as if waiting to pounce upon some- 
 one he was expecting to pass. Even as Tom spoke, he 
 wheeled round to the right, and marched up the street. 
 Tom as quickly disappeared to the left, leaving a few words 
 in my ear. 
 
 " I'll wait for you at the other end, Charley ; it is darker 
 there than here. Don't follow me immediately." 
 
 So I remained where I was, still bending an enraptured 
 gaze upon the burning castle and the gallant knight and 
 damsel escaping at their peril. 
 
 The end of the street to which Tom had pointed was 
 destitute of shops ; the houses were small and poor ; 
 consequently, it was tolerably dark. Tom was sauntering 
 along, smoking a short pipe. 
 
 " Is there any place at hand where we can have a few 
 words together in tolerable security ? " I asked. 
 
 " Come along," briefly responded Tom. " Walk on the 
 other side of the street, old fellow, but keep me in view." 
 
 It was good advice, and I took it. He increased his 
 pace to a brisk walk, and presently turned down a narrow 
 passage, which brought him to a small, triangular green 
 planted with shrubs and trees. I followed, and we sat 
 down on one of the benches. 
 
 " Are you quite mad, Tom ? " 
 
 " Not mad at all," laughed Tom. " Charley, did you 
 come to that book-stall to look after me ? " 
 
 " Ay. And it's about the tenth time I have been there." 
 
 " How the dickens did you find me out ? " 
 
 " Chance one evening took Leah into the neighbourhood, 
 and ;;lie happened to see you. I had feared you might be 
 in England."
 
 ON THE WATCH. 323 
 
 "You had heard of the wreck of the Venrjeance, I 
 suppose ; and that a few of us had escaped. Good old 
 Leah ! Did I give her a fright ? " 
 
 We were sitting side by side. Tom had put his pipe 
 out, lest it should attract the attention of passing 
 stragglers. It was, perhaps, as safe a place as could be 
 found ; nevertheless, I sat upon thorns. 
 
 Not so Tom. By the few signs that might be gathered 
 — his light voice, gay laugh and careless manner — Tom 
 felt as happy and secure as though he had been attending 
 one of her Majesty's levees, in the full glory of scarlet coat 
 and flashing sword -blade. 
 
 "Do you know, Tom, you have half killed me with 
 terror and apprehension ? How could you be so reckless 
 as to come back to London ? " 
 
 " Because the old ship brought me," lightly returned 
 Tom. 
 
 " I suppose a vessel picked you up— and the men who 
 escaped with you ? " 
 
 " It picked two of us up. The other three died." 
 
 " In the boat ? " 
 
 He nodded. " In the open boat at sea." 
 
 " How did you manage to escape ? I thought convicts 
 were too well looked after." 
 
 " So they are, under ordinary circumstances. Ship- 
 wrecks form the exception. I'll give you the history, 
 Charley." 
 
 " Make it brief, then. I am upon thorns." 
 
 Tom laughed, and began : 
 
 " We were started on that blessed voyage, a cargo of 
 men in irons, and for some time made a fair passage and 
 thought we must be nearing the other side. Such an 
 awful crew ! Villainous wretches, who wore their guilt on 
 their faces and suffered their deserts ; most of them half
 
 32i THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 demons. A few amongst them were possibly like me, 
 
 innocent enough " 
 
 " Never mind all that ; go on with the narrative, Tom." 
 " I swear I was innocent," he cried with emotion, heed- 
 less of my interruption. " I Avas wickedly careless, I 
 admit that, but the guilt was another's, not mine. When 
 I put those bills into circulation, Charles, I knew no more 
 they were forged than you did. You believe me ? " 
 " I do believe you. I have believed you throughout." 
 " And if the trial had not been hurried on I think it 
 could have been proved. It was hurried on, and when it 
 was on it was hurried over. I am suffering unjustly." 
 " Yes, Tom. But I want to hear your story." 
 " Where was I ? Oh, about the voyage and the ship- 
 Avreck. After getting out of the south-east trades, we had 
 a fortnight's light winds and calms, and then got into 
 a steady westerly wind, before which we ran quietly for 
 some days. One dark night, it was the fifteenth of 
 November, and thick, drizzling weather, the Avind about 
 north-west, we had turned in and Avere in our first sleep, 
 Avhen a tremendous uproar arose on deck ; the Avatch shout- 
 ing, the officers' orders and the boatswain's mate's shrill 
 piping rising above the din. Next came distinctly that 
 fearful cry, ' All hands save ship ! ' Sails were being 
 clewed up, yards were being swung round. Before we 
 could realize Avhat it all meant, the ship had run ashore ; 
 and there she stuck, bumping as if she Avould knock her 
 bottom out." 
 
 " Less detail, Tom," I Avhispercd. " I feel that every 
 moment puts us in jeopardy." 
 
 " Fortunately, the ship soon made a sort of cradle in the 
 sand, and lay on her starboard bilge," continued Tom, quite 
 equably. "To attempt to get licr off was hopeles.^. So 
 they got us all out of the ship and on shore, and put us
 
 ON THE WATCH. 325 
 
 under tents made of the sails. The skipper made out, or 
 thonglit lie made out, the island to be that of Tristan 
 d'Acuuha : whether it was or not I can't positively say. 
 At first we thought it was uninhabited, but it turned out to 
 have a few natives on it, sixty or eighty in all. In the 
 course of a few days every movable thing had been landed. 
 All the boats were intact, and were moored in a sort of 
 creek or small natural harbour, their gear, sails and oars in 
 them." 
 
 " Don't breathe, Tom, or you are lost ! '* 
 
 A policeman's bull's-eye was suddenly turned upon the 
 grass. By the man's size and form, I knew him for Tom's 
 friend, "Wren. ^Ye sat motionless. The light just escaped 
 us, and he passed on. But we had been in danger. 
 
 " Get on with your story, Tom. I don't want to hear 
 about boats and their gear." 
 
 He laughed. " How impatient you are, Charles ! "Well, 
 here goes. A cargo of convicts cannot be kept as securely 
 under such circumstances as in a ship's hold, and the sur- 
 veillance exercised was surprisingly lax. Two or three of 
 the prisoners were meditating an escape, and thought they 
 saw their way to effecting it by means of one of the boats. 
 I found this out, and joined the party. But there were 
 almost insurmountable difficulties in the way. It was 
 absolutely necessary that we should put on ordinary clothes 
 — for what vessel picking us up but would have delivered 
 us up at the first port it touched at, had we been in convict 
 dress ? We marked the purser's slop-chest, which was 
 under a tent and well filled, and one calm, but dark night, 
 when other people were sleeping, we stole do\VTi to the 
 creek, five of us, rigged ourselves out in the purser's 
 toggery, leaving the Government uniforms in exchange, un- 
 moored one of the cutters, and got quietly away. We had 
 secreted some bread and salt meat ; water there had been
 
 326 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 already on board. The wind was off the land, and we let 
 the bolt drift before it a bit before attempting to make sail. 
 By daylight we were far enough from the island ; no chance 
 of their seeing ns— a speck on the waters. The wind, 
 hitherto south, had backed to the westward. We shaped 
 a course by the sun to the eastward, and sailed along at 
 the rate of five or six knots. My comrades were not as 
 rough as they might have been ; rather decent fellows for 
 convicts. Two of them were from Essex ; had been 
 sentenced for poaching only. Now began our look-out : 
 constantly straining our eyes along the horizon for a sail, 
 especially astern for an outward-bounder, but only saw 
 one or two in the distance that did not see us. What I 
 underwent in that boat as day after day passed and no 
 sail appeared, I won't enter upon now, old fellow. Pro- 
 ^■isions were exhausted, and so was the water. One by one 
 three of my companions went crazy and died. The sur- 
 vivor and I had consigned the last of them to the deep on 
 the twelfth day, and then I thought my turn had come ; 
 but Markham was worse than I was. How many hours 
 went on, I knew not. I lay at the bottom of the boat, 
 exhausted and half unconscious, when suddenly I heard 
 voices. I imagined it to be a dream. But in a few 
 minutes a boat was alongside the cutter, and two of its 
 crew had stepped over and were raising me up. They 
 spoke to me, but I was too weak to understand or answer ; 
 in fact, I was delirious. I and Markham were taken on 
 board and put to bed. After some days, passed in a sort 
 of dreamy, happy delirium, well cared for and attended to, 
 I w'oke up to the realities of life. Markham was dead : he 
 had never revived, and died of exposure and weakness some 
 hours after the rescue." 
 
 " What vessel had picked you up ? " 
 
 "The Discovery, a whaler belonging to Whitby, and
 
 ON THE WATCH. 327 
 
 homeward bound. The captain, Van Hoppe, was Dutch by 
 birth, but had been reared in England and had always 
 sailed in English ships. A good, kind fellow, if ever there 
 was one. Of course, I had to make my tale good and 
 suppress the truth. The passenger-ship in which I was 
 sailing to Australia to seek my fortune had foundered in 
 mid-ocean, and those who escaped with me had died of 
 their sufferings. That was true so far. Captain Van 
 Hoppe took up my misfortunes warmly. Had he been my 
 own brother he could not have treated me better or cared 
 for me more. The vessel had a prosperous run home. She 
 w^as bound for the port of London ; and w'hen I put my 
 hand into Van Hoppe's at parting, and tried to thank him 
 for his goodness, he left a twenty-pound note in it. ' You'll 
 need it, Mr. Strange,' he said ; ' and can repay me when 
 yom* ship comes home." 
 
 " Strange ! " I cried. 
 
 Tom laughed. 
 
 " I called myself ' Strange ' on the whaler. Don't know- 
 that it was wise. One day when I was getting better and 
 lay deep in thought — which just then chanced to be of you, 
 Charley — the mate suddenly asked me what my name was. 
 ' Strange,' I answered, on the spur of the moment. That's 
 how it was. And that's the brief history of my escape." 
 
 " You have had money, then, for your wants since you 
 landed," I remarked. 
 
 " I have had the twenty pounds. It's coming to an end 
 now." 
 
 "You ought not to have come to London, but shonld 
 have got the captain to put you ashore somewhere, and 
 then made your escape from England." 
 
 " All very fine to talk, Charley ! I had not a sixpence in 
 my pocket, or any idea that he was going to help me. I 
 could only come on as far as the vessel would bring me."
 
 328 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " And suppose he had not given you money — what 
 then ? " 
 
 " I must have contrived to let you know that I was home 
 again, and borrowed from you," he lightly replied. 
 
 " Well, your being here is frightfully dangerous." 
 
 " Not a bit of it. As long as the police don't suspect I 
 am in England, they won't look after me. It's true that 
 a few of them might know me, but I do not think they 
 would in this guise and with my altered face." 
 
 " You were afraid of one to-night." 
 
 " Yes ; but he is especially one who might recognize me ; 
 and he stood there so long that I began to think he might 
 be watching me. Anyway, I've l)een on shore these three 
 weeks, and nothing has come of it yet." 
 
 " "What about that young lady named Betsy ? Miss 
 Betsy Lee." 
 
 Tom threw himself back and laughed. 
 
 " I hear the old fellow went down to Essex Street one 
 night to ascertain whether I lived there ! The girl asked 
 me one day where I lived, and I rapped out Essex Street." 
 
 " But, Tom, what have you to do with the girl ? " 
 
 " Nothing ; nothing. On my honour. I have often 
 been in the shop, sometimes of an evening. The father 
 has invited me to some grog in the parlour behind it, and I 
 have sat there for an hour chatting with him and the girl. 
 Can you wonder ? I haven't a soul to speak to in the whole 
 of London. That's all. She is a well-behaved, modest 
 little girl : none better." 
 
 "Well, with one imprudence and another, you stand a 
 fair chance " 
 
 " There ! Don't preach, Cliarlcy. What you call im- 
 prudence is merely a little fun." 
 
 " Are you going to remain on here for ever in this dis- 
 guise ? "
 
 w. G. jtewma:^, 
 
 ON THE WATCH. 329 
 
 "Couldn't, I expect, if I wanted to. I must soon see 
 about getting away." 
 
 " You must get away at once." 
 
 " I am not going yet, Charley ; take my word for tint ; 
 and I am as safe in London, I reckon, as I should be else- 
 where. I don't say but I may have to clear out of this 
 particular locality. If that burly policeman is going to 
 make a permanent beat of it about here, he might drop 
 upon me some fine evening." 
 
 "And you must exchange your sailor's disguise, as you 
 call it, for a better." 
 
 " Perhaps so. That rough old coat you have on might 
 not come amiss to me." 
 
 "You can have it. Why do you fear that constable 
 should know you more than any other ? " 
 
 " He was present at the trial last August, staring me in 
 the face most of the day. His name's Wren." 
 
 I sighed. 
 
 " Well, Tom, it is getting late ; we have sat here as long 
 as is consistent with safety," I said, rising. 
 
 He made me sit down again. 
 
 " The later the safer, perhaps, Charley. When shall we 
 meet again ? " 
 
 " Ay ; when and where ? " 
 
 "Come to-morrow evening, to this same spot. It is as 
 safe as any I know of. I shall remain indoors all day to- 
 morrow. Of course one does not care to run into needless 
 danger. Shall you find your way ? " 
 
 " Yes, and will be here ; but I must go now. Be cautious, 
 Tom. Are you in want of money ? I have brought some 
 with me." 
 
 " Many thanks, old fellow ; I've enough to go on with 
 for a day or two. How is Blanche ? Did she nearly die 
 of the diso-race ? "
 
 330 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " She did uot know of it. Does not know it yet." 
 
 " Why, how can it have been kept from her ? " he ex- 
 claimed in astonishment, " She does not live in a wood." 
 
 " Level has manas-ed it somehow. She was abroad duvino" 
 the trial, you know. They have chiefly lived there since 
 then, Blanche seeing no English newspapers ; and, of 
 conrse, her acquaintances do not gratuitously speak to her 
 about it. But I don't think it can be kept from her much 
 longer," 
 
 " Where does she think I am— all this time ? " 
 
 " She thinks you are in India with the regiment." 
 
 " I suppose he was in a fearful way about it ! " 
 
 " Level ? Yes — naturally ; and is still. He would have 
 saved you, Tom, at any cost." 
 
 " As you would, and one or two more good friends ; but, 
 you see, I did not know what was coming upon me in time 
 to ask them. It fell upon my head like a thunderbolt. 
 Level is not a bad fellow at bottom." 
 
 " He is a downright good one — at least, that's my opinion 
 of him." 
 
 We stood hand locked in hand at parting. " Where are 
 you staying, Tom ? " 
 
 " Not far off. I've a lodging in the neighbourhood — 
 one room." 
 
 " Fare you well, then, until to-morrow evening." 
 
 " Au re voir, Charley."
 
 ( 331 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 TOM HERIOT. 
 
 I FOUND my way the next night to the little green with 
 its trees and shrubs. Tom was there, humming one of our 
 boyhood's songs taught us by Leah. 
 
 " Young Henry was as brave a youth 
 As ever gi-aced a martial story ; 
 And Jane was fair as lovely truth : 
 She sighed for love, and he for glory. 
 
 '• To her his faith he meant to plight, 
 And told her many a gallant story : 
 But war, their lionest joys to blight. 
 Called him away from love to glory. 
 
 " Young Henry met the foe with pride ; 
 
 Jane followed — fought — ah ! hapless story ! — 
 In man's attire, by Henry's side, 
 Slie died for love, and lie for glory." 
 
 He was still dressed as a sailor, but the pilot-coat was 
 buttoned up high and tight about his throat, and the round 
 glazed hat was worn upon the front of his head instead of 
 the back of it. 
 
 " I thought you meant to change these things, Tom," I 
 said as we sat down. 
 
 " All in good time," he answered ; " don't quite know 
 yet what costume to adopt. Could one become a negro-
 
 332 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 melody man, think you — or a Red Indian juggler with balls 
 and sword-swallowiu2: ? " 
 
 How supremely indifferent he seemed ! "Was it real or 
 only assumed ? Then he turned suddenly upon me. 
 
 " I say, what are you in black for, Charley ? My sins ? " 
 
 " For Mr. Brightman." 
 
 "Mr. Brightman!" he repeated, his tone changing to 
 one of concern. " Is he dead ? " 
 
 " He died the last week in February. Some weeks ago 
 now. Died quite suddenly." 
 
 " Well, well, well ! " breathed Tom Heriot. " I am very 
 sorry. I did not know it. But how am I likely to know 
 anything of what the past months have brought forth ? " 
 
 It would serve no purpose to relate the interview of that 
 night in detail. We spent it partly in quarrelling, or rather 
 in differences of opinion. It was impossible to convince 
 Tom of his danger. I told him about the Sunday incident 
 with Detective Arkwright, and my momentary fear that he 
 might be looking after Tom. He only laughed. " Good 
 old Uncle Stillingfar ! " cried he ; "give my love to him." 
 And all his conversation was carried on in the same strain, 
 
 " But you must leave Lambeth," I urged. " You said 
 you would do so." 
 
 '• I said I might, I will, if I see just cause for doing so. 
 Plenty of time yet. I am not absolutely sure, you know, 
 that Wren would recognize me." 
 
 " The very fact of your having called yourself ' Strange ' 
 ought to keep you away from here." 
 
 " Well, 1 suppose that was a bit of mistake," he acknow- 
 ledged. "But look here, brother mine, your own fears 
 mislead you. Until it is known that I have made my way 
 home no one will be likely to look after me. Believing me 
 to be at the antipodes, they won't seurch for me in 
 London."
 
 TOM HERIOT. 333 
 
 " They may suspect that you are iu Loudon, if they 
 don't actually know it." 
 
 "Not they. To begin with, it must be a matter of 
 absohite uncertainty whether we got picked up at all, after 
 escaping from the island ; but the natural conchision will 
 be that, if we were, it was by a vessel bound for the 
 colonies : homeward-bound ships do not take that course. 
 Every one at all acquainted with navigation knows that. 
 I assure you, our being found by the whaler was the merest 
 chance in the world. Be at ease, Charley. I can take care 
 of myself, and will leave Lambeth if necessary. One of 
 these fine mornings you may get a note from me, telling 
 you I have emigrated to the Isle of Dogs, or some such 
 enticing quarter, and have become ' Mr. Smith.' Mean- 
 while, we can meet here occasionally." 
 
 " I don't like this place, Tom. It is far too open and 
 dangerous. Had I not better come to your lodgings ? " 
 
 " No," he replied, after a moment's consideration. " I am 
 quite sure we are safe here, and there it's hot and stifling — 
 a dozen families living in the same house. I will not even 
 tell you where the lodgings are : you might be swooping 
 down upon me to carry me away as Mephistopheles carried 
 away Dr. Faustus." 
 
 After supplying him with money, with a last handshake, 
 a last injunction to be cautious, I left the triangle, and left 
 him within it. The next moment found me face to face 
 with the burly frame and wary glance of Mr. Constable 
 Wren, standing motionless iu the starlight. I walked past 
 him with as much unconcern as I could muster, lie turned 
 to look after me for a time, and then continued his beat. 
 
 " Can you see Lord Level, sir ?" 
 
 It was the following Saturday afternoon, aud I was just 
 starting for Hastings. The week had passed in anxious
 
 334 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 labour. Business cares for me, more work than I knew how 
 to get through, for Lennard was away ill, and constant 
 mental torment about Tom. I took out my watch before 
 answering Watts. 
 
 " Yes, I have five minutes to spare. If that will suffice 
 for his lordship," I added, laughing, as we shook hands : for 
 he had followed Watts into the room. 
 
 " You are off somewhere, Charles ? " 
 
 "Yes, to Hastings. I shall be back again to-morrow 
 night. Can I do anything for you, Level ? " 
 
 " Nothing," he replied. " I came up from Marshdale 
 this morning, and thought I would come round this after- 
 noon to ask whether you have any news." 
 
 When Lord Level went to Marshdale on the visit that 
 bore so suspicious an aspect to his wife, he had remained 
 there only one night, returning to London the following 
 day. This week he had been down again, and stayed rather 
 longer — two days, in fact. Blanche, as I chanced to know, 
 was rebelling ; secretly rebelHng, for she had not brought 
 herself to accuse him openly. 
 
 " News ? " I repeated. 
 
 " Of Tom Heriot." 
 
 Should I tell him ? Perhaps there was no help for it. 
 When he had asked me before I had known nothing posi- 
 tively ; now I knew only too much. 
 
 " Why I should have it, I know not ; but a conviction lies 
 upon me that he has found his way back to London," he 
 continued. " Charles, you look conscious. Do you know 
 anything ? " 
 
 " You are right. He is here, and I have seen him." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " exclaimed Level, throwing himself 
 back in his chair. " Has he really been mad enough to 
 come back to Loudon ? " 
 
 Drawing my own chair nearer to him, i bent forward and
 
 TOM HEEIOT. 335 
 
 in low tones gave him briefly the history. I had seen T om on 
 the Monday and Tuesday nights, as ah*eady related to the 
 reader. On the Thursday night I was again at the trystiug- 
 l)lacc, but Toui did not meet me. The previous night, 
 Friday, I had gone again, and again Tom did not appear. 
 
 " Is he taken, think you ? " cried Lord Level. 
 
 " I don't know : and you see I dare not inquire. But I 
 think not. Had he been captured, it would be in the 
 papers." 
 
 " I am not so sure of that. "What anxiety, what suspense 
 for us all ! Can notliing be done ? " 
 
 " Nothing," I answered, rising, for my time was up. 
 " We can only wait, and watch, and be silent." 
 
 " If it were not for the disgrace reflected upon us, and 
 raking it all up again in people's minds, I Avould say let 
 him be re-taken ! It would serve him right for his fool- 
 hardiness." 
 
 " How is Blanche ? " 
 
 " Cross and snappish ; unaccountably so : and showing 
 her temper rather unbearably." 
 
 I laughed— willing to treat the matter lightly. " She 
 does not care that you should go travelling without her, I 
 take it." 
 
 Level, who was passing out before me, turned and gazed 
 into my face. 
 
 " Yes," said he, emphatically. " But a man may have 
 matters to take up his attention, and his movements also, 
 that he may deem it inexpedient to confide to his wife." 
 
 He spoke with a touch of haughtiness. " Very true," I 
 nuirmured, as we shook hands and went out together, he 
 walking away towards Gloucester Place, I jumping into the 
 cab waiting to take me to the station. 
 
 Mrs. Brjghtman was better ; I knew that ; and showing 
 more self-control. But there was no certaintv that the
 
 336 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 improvement would last. In truth, the certainty lay rather 
 the other way. Her mother's home was no home for 
 Annabel ; and I had formed the resolution to ask her to 
 come to mine. 
 
 The sun had set when I reached Hastings, and Miss 
 Brightman's hons3. ]\Iiss Brightman, Avho seemed to grow 
 less strong day by day, which I was grieved to hear, was in 
 her room lying down. Annabel sat at the front drawing- 
 room window in the twilight. She started up at my 
 entrance, full of surprise and apprehension. 
 
 " Oh, Charles ! Has anything happened ? Is mamma 
 worse ? " 
 
 "Xo, indeed ; your mother is very much better," said I, 
 cheerfully. " I have taken a run down for the pleasure of 
 seeing you, Annabel," 
 
 She still looked uneasy. I remembered the dreadful 
 tidings I had brought the last time I came to Hastings. 
 No doubt she was thinking of it, too, poor girl. 
 
 " Aunt Lucy will be glad to see you ; you are a special 
 favourite of hers," laughed Annabel. " I am not sure that 
 I am not second in her esteem. She will be down soon." 
 
 I drew a chair opposite to her, and talked for a little time 
 on indifferent topics. The twilight shades grew deeper, 
 passers-by more indistinct, the sea less bright and shimmer- 
 ing. Silence stole over us — a sweet silence all too conscious, 
 all too fleeting. Annabel suddenly rose, stood at the window, 
 and made some slight remark about a little boat that was 
 neariug the pier. 
 
 " Annabel," I whispered, as I rose and stood by her, " you 
 du not know what I have really come down for." 
 
 " No," she answered, with hesitation. 
 
 " When I last saw you at your own home, you may re- 
 member tiiat you were in great trouble. I a-ked you to 
 share it with nio, but vou would not do so."
 
 TOM HERIOT. 337 
 
 She grew agitated, and I jiasscd my arui round her 
 ^\"ai!5t. 
 
 " Mv darling, I now know all." 
 
 Her heart beat violently as I lield her. Her hand shook 
 nervously in mine. 
 
 " You cannot know all ! " she cried piteously. 
 
 " I know all ; more than you do. ^Irs. Bright man was 
 worse after you left and Hatoh sent for me. She and Mr. 
 Close have told me the whole truth." 
 
 Annabel would have shrunk away in the full tide of 
 shame that swept over her, and a low moan broke from her 
 lips. 
 
 " Nay, my dear, instead of shrinking from me, you must 
 come closer — for ever. My home must be yours now." 
 
 She stood pale and trembling, her hands clasped, her 
 emotion strong. 
 
 " It cannot, must not be, Charles." 
 
 " Hush, my love. It can be — and shall be." 
 
 "Charles," she said, her very lips trembling, " weigh well 
 Avhat you are saying. Do not snll'er the — affection — I must 
 speak fully — the implied engagement that was between us, 
 ere this unhappiness came to my knowledge and yours — 
 do not suffer it to bind us now. It is a fearful disgrace 
 to attach to my poor mother, and it is reflected upon 
 me." 
 
 " Were your father living, Annabel, should you say thj 
 disgrace was also reflected upon him ? " 
 
 " Oh no, no. I could not do so. My good and honoured 
 father ! Never upon him." 
 
 I laughed a little at her want of logic. 
 
 "Annabel, my dear, you have yourself answered the 
 question. As I hold you to my heart now, so will I, in as 
 short a time as may be, hold you in my home and at my 
 hearth. Let what will betide, you shall have one true 
 
 z
 
 338 THE STORY OP CHAKLES STRANGE. 
 
 friend to shelter and protect you through hfe with his care 
 and love." 
 
 Her tears were falling. 
 
 " Oh, Charles ! I am sure it ought not to be. Aunt 
 Lucy would tell you so." 
 
 Aunt Lucy came in at that moment, and proved to be 
 on my side. She was going to Madeira at the close of 
 summer, and the difficulty as to what was to be done with 
 Annabel had begun to trouble her greatly. 
 
 " I cannot take her with me, you see," she said. " In 
 her mother's precarious state, the child must not absent 
 herself from England. Still less can I leave her to her 
 mother's care. Therefore I think your proposal exactly 
 meets the dilemma. I suppose matters have been virtually 
 settled between you for some little time now." 
 
 " Oh, Aunt Lucy ! " remonstrated Annabel, blushing 
 furiously. 
 
 "Well, my dear, and I say it is all for the best. If you 
 can suggest a better plan I am willing to hear it." 
 Annabel sat silent, her head drooping. 
 " I may tell you this much, child : your father looked 
 forward to it and approved it. Not that he would have 
 allowed the marriage to take place just yet had he lived ; 
 I am sure of that ; but he is not living, and circumstances 
 alter cases." 
 
 " I am sure he liked me," I ventured to put in as 
 modestly as I could ; " and I believe he would have 
 consented to our marriage." 
 
 " Yes, he liked you very much ; and so do I," she added, 
 laughing. " I wish I could say as much for Mrs. Bright- 
 man. Tlie opposition, I fancy, will come from her." 
 
 " You tliink she will oppose it ? " I said — and, indeed, 
 the doubt had lain in my own mind. 
 
 "I am afraid so. Of course tliorc will l)c nothing
 
 TOM HERIOT. 339 
 
 for it but patience. Annabel cannot marry without her 
 consent." 
 
 How a word will turn the scales of our hopes and fears ! 
 That j\Irs. Brightman would oppose and wither our bright 
 prospects came to me in that moment with the certainty 
 of conviction. 
 
 The evening was yet early when I reached London the 
 next day, and I walked home from the station. St. ]\rary's 
 was striking half-past seven as I passed it. At the self- 
 same moment, an arm was inserted into mine. I turned 
 quickly, wondering if any one had designs upon my small 
 hand-bag. 
 
 " All right, Charley ! I'm not a burglar." 
 
 It was only Lake. " Why, Arthur ! I thought you had 
 gone to Oxford until Monday ! " 
 
 " Got news last night that the fellow could not have me : 
 had to go down somewhere or other," he answered, as we 
 walked along arm-in-arm. " I say, I had a bit of a scare 
 just now." 
 
 " In what way ? " 
 
 " I thought I saw Tom pass. Tom Heriot," he added 
 in a whisper. 
 
 " Oh, but that's unpossible, you know. Lake," I said, 
 though I felt my pulses quicken. " All your fancy." 
 
 " It was just under that gas-lamp at the corner of 
 Wellington Street," Lake went on. " He was sauntering 
 along as if he had nothing to do, muffled in a coat that 
 looked a mile too big for him, and a red comforter. He 
 lifted his face in passing, and stopped suddenly, as if he 
 had recognized me and were going to speak ; then seemed 
 to think better of it, turned on his heel and walked back 
 the way he had come. Charley, if it was not Tom Ileriot, 
 I never saw such a hkencss as that man bore to him." 
 
 My lips felt glued. " It could not have been Tom
 
 340 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Heriot, Lake. You know Tom is at the antipodes. We 
 will not talk of liim, please. Are you coming home with 
 
 me ? " 
 
 " Yes. I was going on to Barlow's chambers, but I'll 
 
 come with you instead."
 
 ( 341 ) 
 
 CHAPTER J^XVII. 
 
 AN EVENING VI.SITOR. 
 
 The spring flowers were showing tliemselves, and the may 
 was budding in the hedges. I thought how charming it 
 all looked, as I turned, this Monday afternoon, into Mrs. 
 Brightman's grounds, where laburnums drooped their 
 graceful blossoms, and lilacs filled the air with perfume ; 
 how significantly it all spoke to the heart of renewed life 
 after the gloom of winter, the death and decay of 
 nature. 
 
 Mrs. Brightman, enjoying the spring-tide, sat, robed iu 
 crap3, on a bench amidst the trees on which the sun was 
 shining. AVhat a refined, proud, handsome face was hers ! 
 but pale and somewhat haggard now\ No other trace of 
 her recent illness was apparent, beyond a nervous trembling 
 of the hands. 
 
 " This is a surprise," she said, holding out one of those 
 hands quite cordially. " I thought you had been too busy 
 of late to visit me in the day-time." 
 
 " Generally I am very busy, but I made time to come 
 to-day. I have something of importance to say to you, 
 Mrs. Brightman. Will you hear me ? " 
 
 She paused to look at me —a searching, doubtful look. 
 Did she fear that I was about to speak to her of her failing ? 
 The idea occurred to me, 
 
 *' Certainly," she coldly replied. " Business must, of
 
 342 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 course, be attended to. Would you prefer to go indoors 
 or to sit out here ? " 
 
 " I would rather remain here. I am not often favoured 
 with such a combination of velvet lawn and sunshine and 
 sweet scents." 
 
 She made room for me beside her. And, with as little 
 circumlocution as possible, I brought out what I wanted— 
 Annabel. When the heart is truly engaged, a man at these 
 moments can only be bashful, especially when he sees it 
 will be an uphill fight ; but if the heart has nothing to do 
 with the matter, he can be as cool and suave as though he 
 were merely telling an everyday story." 
 
 Mrs. Brightmau, hearing me to the end, rose haughtily. 
 
 " Surely you do not know what you are saying ! " she 
 exclaimed. "Or is it that I fail to understand you ? You 
 cannot be asking for the hand of my daughter ? " 
 
 " Indeed — pardon me— I am. Mrs. Brightnian, we " 
 
 " Pardon wae," she interrupted, " but I must tell you that 
 it is utterly preposterous. Say no more, Mr. Strange ; not 
 another word. My daughter cannot marry a professional 
 man. / did so, you may reply : yes, and have forfeited 
 my proper place in the world ever since." 
 
 " jMr. Brio-htman would have given Annabel to me." 
 
 " Possibly so, though 1 think not. As Mr. Brightmau is 
 no longer here, we may let that supposition alone. And 
 you must allow me to say this much, sir — that it is scarcely 
 seemly to come to me on such a subject so soon after his 
 death." 
 
 " But " I stopped in emban-assment, unable to give 
 
 my reason for speaking so soon. How could I tell Mrs. 
 ]*)ri!i-litman that it was to afford Annabel a home and a 
 protector : tliat this, her mother's home, was not fitting 
 for a refined and sensitive girl ? 
 
 But I presseil my suit. I told her 1 had Annabel's
 
 AN EVENING VISITOR. 343 
 
 consent, and that I had recently been with her at Hastings. 
 I should like to have added that I had Miss Brightman's, 
 only that it might have done more harm than good. I 
 spoke very slightly of Miss Brightman's projected departure 
 from England, when her house would be shut up and 
 Annabel must leave Hastings. And I added that I wanted 
 to make a home for her by that time. 
 
 I am sure she caught my implied meaning, for she grew 
 agitated and her hands shook as they lay on her crape dress. 
 Her diamond rings, which she had not discarded, flashed 
 in the sunlight. But she rallied her strength. All her 
 pride rose up in rebellion. 
 
 " My daughter has her own home, sir ; her home with 
 me — what do you mean ? Daring my illness, I have 
 allowed her to remain with her aunt, but she will shortly 
 return to me." 
 
 And when I would have urged further, and pleaded as 
 for something dearer than life, she peremptorily stopped me. 
 
 " I will hear no more, Mr. Strange. My daughter is 
 descended on my side from the nobles of the land — yoi^ 
 must forgive me for thus alluding to it — audit is impossible 
 that I can forget that, or allow her to do so. Never, with 
 my consent, will she marry out of that grade : a professional 
 man is, in rank, beneath her. This is my decision, and it 
 is unalterable. The subject is at an end, and I beg of 
 you never again to enter upon it." 
 
 There was no chance of my pursuing it then, at any rate. 
 Hatch came from the house, a folded cloak on her arm, 
 and approached her mistress. 
 
 " The carriage is at the gate, ma'am." 
 
 Mrs. Brightman rose at once, for she was going for a 
 drive. After what had just passed, I held out my arm with 
 Fome hesitation ; she put the tips of her fingers within it, 
 with a stiff " Thank you," and we walked to the gate in
 
 344 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 silence. I handed her into the open carriage ; Hatch 
 disposed the cloak upon her knees, assisted by the footman. 
 With a cold bow, Mrs. Brightman, who had already as 
 coldly shaken hands with me, drove away. 
 
 Hatch, always ready for a gossip, stood within the little 
 iron gate while she spoke to me. 
 
 " ^Ye be going away for a bit, sir," she began. " Did 
 you laiow it ? " 
 
 " No. Mrs. Brightman has not mentioned the matter 
 to me." 
 
 " "Well, we be, then," continued Hatch ; " missis and me 
 and Perry. Mr. Close have got her to consent at last. I 
 don't say that she was well enough to go before ; Close 
 thought so, but I didn't. He wants her gone, yon see, 
 Mr. Strange, to get that fancy out of her head about 
 master." 
 
 " But does she still think she sees him ? " 
 
 " Not for the past few days," replied Hatch. " She has 
 changed her bedroom, and taken to the best spare one ; and 
 she has been better in herself. Oh, she'll be all right now 
 for a bit, if only " 
 
 " If only what ? " 
 
 " Well, you know, sir. If only she can control herself. 
 I'm certain she is trying to," added Hatch. " There ain't 
 one of us would be so glad to find it got rid of for good 
 and all as she'd be. She's put about frightfully yet at Miss 
 Annabel's knowing of it." 
 
 " And where are you going to ? " 
 
 " IMissis talked of Cheltenham ; it was early, she thought, 
 for the seaside ; but this morning she got a Cheltenham 
 newspaper up, and saw that amid the company staying 
 there were Captain and Lady Grace Chantrcy. ' I'm not 
 going where my brother and his wife are,' she says to me 
 in a temper— for, as I dare say you've heard, Mr, Strange,
 
 AN EVENING VISITOR. 3d 5 
 
 tliey don't agree. And now she talks of Brightou. "Whatever 
 l^lacc she fixes on, Perry is to be sent on first to take 
 lodgings." 
 
 " Well, Hatch," I said, " the change from home v;ill do 
 your mistress good. She is much better. I trust the 
 improvement will be permanent." 
 
 " Ah, if she would but take care ! It all lies in that, 
 sir," concluded Hatch, as I turned away from the gate, and 
 she went up the garden. 
 
 "We must go back for a moment to the previous evening. 
 Leaving behind us the churoh of St. Clement Danes and 
 its lighted windows. Lake and I turned into Essex Street, 
 arm-in-arm and reached my door. I opened it with my 
 latch-key. The hall-lamp was not lighted, and I wondered 
 at "Watts's neglect. 
 
 " Go on up to my room," I said to Lake. " I'll follow 
 you in a moment." 
 
 He bounded up the stairs, and the next moment Leah 
 came up from the kitchen with a lighted candle, her face 
 white and terrified. 
 
 " It is only me, Leah. "Why is the lamp not alight ? " 
 
 " Heaven be good to us, sir ! " she cried. " I thought 
 I heard somebody go upstairs." 
 
 *' Mr. Lake has gone up." 
 
 She backed against the wall, more white and terrified 
 than ever. I thought she was about to faint. 
 
 " Mr. Charles ! I feel as if I should die ! I ought to 
 have bolted the front door." 
 
 " ]>nt what for ? " I cried, intensely surprised. " "What 
 on earth is the matter, Leah ? " 
 
 " Mr. Tom, sir. Captain Heriot. He is up there ! In 
 your front sitting-room. I put out the hall-lamp, thinking 
 the house would be best in darkness,"
 
 346 THE STOEY OF CHAELES STEANGE. 
 
 "Light the lamp again," I replied. " It always is alight, 
 yon know. If the house is in darkness, you might have 
 a policeman calling to know what was the matter." 
 
 Tom was laughing when I got upstairs. He had taken 
 off his rough overcoat and broad-brimmed hat, and stood 
 in a worn — very much worn — suit of brown velveteen 
 breeches and gaiters. Lake stared at him over the table, 
 a comical exjiression on his face. 
 
 " Suppose we shake hands to begin with," said Lake. 
 And they clasped hands heartily across the table. 
 
 " Did you know me just now, in the Strand, Lake ? " 
 asked Tom Heriot, 
 
 " I did," replied Lake, and his tone proved that he meant 
 it. "I said to Charley, here, that I had just seen a fellow 
 very like Tom Heriot ; but I knew who it was, fast 
 enough." 
 
 "You wouldn't have known me, though, if I hadn't 
 stood under the lamp-light. I forget myself at moments, 
 you see," added Tom, after a pause. " Meeting you unex- 
 pectedly, I was about to speak as in the old days, and 
 recollected myself only just in time. I say " — turning 
 himself about in his velveteens — " should you take me for 
 a gamekeeper ? " 
 
 " No, I should not : you don't look the thing at all," 
 I put in testily, for I was frightfully vexed with him 
 altogether. " I thought you must have been taken up by 
 your especial friend, Wren. Twice have I been to the 
 trysting-place as agreed, but you did not appear." 
 
 " No ; but I think he nearly had me," replied Tom. 
 
 " How was that ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you," he answered, as we all three took chairs 
 round the fire, and I stirred it into a l)laze. " On the 
 Wednesday I did not go out at all ; I told you I should 
 not. On the Thursday, after dusk, I went out to meet
 
 AN EVENING VISITOR. 347 
 
 yon. It was early, and I strolled in for a smoke with Lee 
 and a chat with Miss Betsy. The old man began at once : 
 ' Captain Strange, Policeman Wren has been here, asking 
 questions about you.' It seems old Wren is well known in 
 the neighbourhood " 
 
 " Captain Strange ? " cried Lake. " Who is Captain 
 Strange ? " 
 
 " I am— down there," laughed Tom. " Don't interrupt, 
 please. ' What questions ? ' I said to Lee. ' Oh, what 
 your name was, and where yon came from, and if I had 
 known you long, and what your ship was called,' answered 
 Lee. 'And you told him?' I asked. 'Well, I should 
 have told him, but for Betsy,' he said. ' Betsy spoke up, 
 saying you were a sailor-gentleman that came in to buy 
 tobacco and newspapers ; and that was all he got out of us, 
 not your name, captain, or anything. As Betsy said to 
 me afterwards, it was not our place to answer questions 
 about Captain Strange : if the policeman wanted to know 
 anything, let him apply to the captain himself. Which 
 1 thought good sense,' concluded Lee. As it was." 
 
 "Well, Tom?" 
 
 "Well, I thought it about time to go straight home 
 again," said Tom ; "and that's why I did not. meet you, 
 CJiarloy. And the next day, Friday, I cleared out of my 
 diggings in that quarter of the globe, rigged myself out 
 afresh, and found other lodgings. I am nearer to you 
 now, Charley: vegetating in the wilds over Blackfriars 
 Bridge." 
 
 " ]Iow could you be so imprudent as to come here 
 to-night ? or bo seen in so conspicuous a spot as the 
 Strand ? " 
 
 " The fit took me to pay you a visit, old fellow. As to 
 the Strand — it's a fine thoroughfare, you know, and I had 
 not set eyes on it since last summer. I walked up and
 
 348 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 down a bit, listening to the church bells, and looking about 
 me." 
 
 " You turn everything into ridicule, Tom." 
 
 " Better that, Charley, than into sighing and groaning." 
 
 *' But what do you think of doing, Ileriot ? " asked 
 Lake. " You cannot hide for ever in the wilds of Black- 
 friars. / would not answer for your safety for a day." 
 
 " Goodness knows ! " said Tom. " Perhaps Charley 
 could put me up here — in one of his top bedrooms ? " 
 
 Whether he spoke in jest or earnest, I knew not. He 
 might remember that I was running a risk in concealing 
 him even for an hour or two. Were it discovered, the law 
 might make me answer for it. 
 
 " I should like something to eat, Charley." 
 
 Leaving him with Lake, I summoned Leah, and bade 
 her bring up quickly what she had. She speedily appeared 
 Avith a well-fitted tray. 
 
 " Good old Leah ! " said Tom to her. " That ham looks 
 tempting." 
 
 "Mr. Tom, if you go on like this, loitering in the open 
 streets and calling at houses, trouble will overtake you," 
 returned Leah, in much the same tone she had used when 
 reprimanding him as a child. " I wonder what your dear, 
 good mother would say to it if she saw you throwing your- 
 self into peril. Do you remember, sir, how often she 
 would beg of you to be good ? " 
 
 " My mother ! " repeated Tom, who w'as in one of his 
 lightest mooJs. " Why, you never saw her. She was dead 
 and buried and gone to heaven before you knew anything 
 of us." 
 
 " Ah well. Master Tom, you know I mean Mrs. Heriot — 
 afterwards Mrs. Strange. It wouldn't be you, sir, if you 
 didn't turn evcrytliing into a jest. She was a good mother 
 to yon all."
 
 AN EVENING VISITOR, 349 
 
 "That she was, Lcali. Excused oar lessjns fur the 
 asking, and fed us on jam." 
 
 He was taking his supper rapidly the while ; for, of 
 course, he had to get away before church was over and 
 Watts was home again. The man might liavc been true 
 and faithful ; little doubt of it ; but it would have added 
 one more item to the danger. 
 
 Lake went out for a cab ; and Tom, his wide-awake low 
 on his brow, his rough coat on, and his red comforter 
 round his throat, vaulted into it, to be conveyed o\-er 
 Blackfriars Bridge to any point he might choose to 
 indicate. 
 
 " An amazing hazard h!s going about like this," cried 
 Lake, as we sat down together in front of the fire. " lie 
 must be got out of England as quickly as possible." 
 
 " But he won't go." 
 
 " Then, mark my words, bad will come of it."
 
 350 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXYIII. 
 
 RESTITUTION. 
 
 Many weeks went by and there is liitle to relate of their 
 passiuo-. Things generally remained pretty mnch as they 
 had been. The Levels were abroad again. Mrs. Brightman 
 on the whole was better, but had occasional relapses ; 
 Annabel spent most of her time at Hastings ; and Tom 
 Heriot had not yet been taken. 
 
 Tom was now at an obscure fishing village on the coast 
 of Scotland, pasung himself oiT as a fisherman, owning 
 a small boat and pretending to fish. This did not allay 
 onr anxiety, which was almost as great as ever. Still, it 
 was something to have him away from Loudon. Out of 
 Great Britain he refused to move. 
 
 Does the reader remember George Coney's money and 
 its strange disappearance the night of Mr. Brightman's 
 deatii ? From that hour to this nothing had been seen or 
 heard of it : but the time for it was now at hand. And 
 what I am about to relate may appear a very common-place 
 ending to a mystery — though, indeed, it was not yet quite 
 the ending. In my capacity of story-teller I could have 
 invented a hundred romantic incidents, and worked them 
 and the reader up to a high point of interest ; but I can 
 only record the incident as it happened, and its termination 
 was a very matter-of-fact one. 
 
 I was sittiu"- one evening in the front room : a sittiug-
 
 KESTITUTION. 351 
 
 room — I think this bas Ijccu said bcl'ore — siiiokiug my 
 after-diiiiiei- cigar. The window was open to tlie summer 
 air, which all day long had been intensely hot. A letter 
 received in the morning from Gloucestershire from Mr. 
 Couey, to which his son had scrawled a postscript : " Has 
 that money turned up yet ? " had set me thinking of the 
 loss, and from that I fell to thinking of the loss of the 
 Clavering will, which had followed close upon it. Edmund 
 Claveriug, by the way, had been with me that day to 
 impart some news. He was going to be married — to 
 a charming girl, too — and we were discussing settlements. 
 My Lady Claveriug, he said, was figuring at Baden-Baden, 
 and report ran that she was about to espouse a French 
 count with a fierce moustache. 
 
 Presently I took up the Times, not oi^ened before that 
 day, and was deep in a police case, which had convulsed the 
 court in Marlborough Street with laughter, and was con- 
 vulsing me, when a vehicle dashed down Essex Street. It 
 was the van of the Parcels Delivery Company. 
 
 "A parcel for Mr. Strange," said the man, who had 
 descended from the seat beside the driver, when Watts 
 went out. 
 
 Upon which the driver whipped up his horse, then turned 
 sharply round, and — overturned the van. It was not the 
 first accident of a similar nature, or the last by many, that 
 I have seen in that particular spot. How it is I don't know, 
 but drivers, especially cabmen, have an unconquerable pro- 
 pensity for pulling their horses round in a perilously short 
 fashion at the bottom of Essex Street, and sometimes they 
 come to grief. I threw down my newspaper and leaned out 
 at the window watching the fun. The street was covered 
 with parcels, and the driver and his friend were throwing 
 off their consternation in choice language. One hamper 
 had contained Avine loosely packed, and the broken bottles
 
 352 THE STORY 01*' CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 were lying in a red pool. Where the mob collected from, 
 that speedily arrived to assist, was a marvel. The van at 
 length took its departure up the street, considerably shorn 
 of the triumph with which it had dashed down. 
 
 This had taken up a considerable amount of time, and it 
 was growing too dark to resume my newspaper. Turning 
 from the window, I proceeded to examine the parcel which 
 Watts had brought up on its arrival and placed on the 
 table. It was about a foot square, wrapped in brown paper, 
 sealed and tied with string ; and, in what Tony Lumpkin 
 would have called a confounded cramped, up-and-down 
 hand, where you could not tell an izzard from an E, was 
 directed " C. Strange, Esquire." 
 
 I took out my penknife, cut the string, and removed the 
 paper ; and there was disclosed a pasteboard-box with green 
 edges, also sealed. I opened it, and from a mass of soft 
 paper took out a small canvas bag, tied round wdth tape, 
 and containing thirty golden sovereigns ! 
 
 From the very depth of my conviction I believed it to be 
 the bag we had lost. It was the bag ; for, on turning it 
 round, there were old Coney's initials, S. C, neatly marked 
 with blue cotton, as they had been on the bag left by George. 
 I wondered if they were the same sovereigns. Where had 
 it been to ? Who had taken it ? Who returned it ? 
 
 I rang the bell, and then called to AVatts, who was coming 
 up to answer it, to bring up Leah with him. It was my 
 duty to tell them of the money's restitution, as they had 
 been inmates of the bouse when it was lost. 
 
 Watts only stared and ejaculated ; but Leah, with some 
 colour, for once in her pale face, clasped her hands. " Oh, 
 sir, I'm thankful you have found it again ! " she exclaimed. 
 " I'm heartily thankful ! " 
 
 "So am I, Leah, thougli the mystery attending the 
 transaction is as great as ever ; indeed, more so."
 
 tlESTlTUTlON. 355 
 
 It certainly was. They went down again, and I sat 
 musing over the problem. Bat nothing could I make out 
 of it, and finally concluded, that the individual taking it 
 (whomsoever it might be) must have been in temporary 
 need of funds, and, the difficulty over, had now restored 
 the money. I locked the bag safely up, wrote a letter to 
 George Coney, and then went out to confide the news to 
 Arthur Lake. 
 
 Taking the short cuts and passages that lead from Essex 
 Street to the Temple, as I generally did when bound for 
 Lake's chambers, I was passing onwards, when I found 
 myself called to — or I thought so. Standing still in the 
 shade, leaning against the railings of the Temple Gardens, 
 was a slight man of middle height. Glancing in doubt, 
 half stopping as I did so, yet thinking I must have been 
 mistaken, I was passing on, when the voice came again. 
 
 " Charley ! " 
 
 I stopped then. And in the revulsion it brought me 
 you might have knocked me down with a feather ; for it 
 was Tom Heriot. My heart, with pain and dismay, beat as 
 if it meant to burst its bonds. 
 
 " I was almost sure it was you," he said in a low voice ; 
 *' but not quite sure." 
 
 " Can it possibly be you ? " I cried. " What brings ycni 
 here, Tom ? AVhy have you come up to London again ? " 
 
 " I reached London this morning, and came here when 
 dusk set in, thinking I might have the luck to see you or 
 Lake, Charley." 
 
 " But why have you left Scotland ? You were safe 
 there." 
 
 " I don't know that I was. And I had grown tired to 
 death of it." 
 
 " It will end in death, or something like it, if you persist 
 in staying here." 
 
 2 A
 
 35'i THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Tom laughed his gay, ringing laugh. I looked round to 
 see that no one was within hearing. 
 
 " What a croaker you are, old Charley ! I'm sure you 
 ought to kill the fatted calf, to celebrate my return from 
 banishment. It was becoming dangerous up there. Since 
 the summer season set in, those blessed tourists are abroad 
 again, with their staves and knapsacks. No place is safe 
 from them, and the smaller and more obscure it is, the 
 more they are sure to find it. The other day I was in my 
 boat in my fishing toggery, as usual, when a fellow comes 
 up, addresses me as ' My good man,' and plunges into queries 
 touching the sea and the fishing-trade. Now who do you 
 think that was, Charles ? " 
 
 " I can't say." 
 
 " It was James Lawless, Q.C. — the leader who prosecuted 
 at my trial." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " 
 
 " I unfastened the boat, keeping my back to him and my 
 face down, and shot off like a whirlwind, calling out that 
 I was behind time and must put out. I took good care, 
 Charles, not to get back before the stars were out in the 
 night sky." 
 
 " Did he recognize you ? " 
 
 " No — no. For certain, no. But he ' would have done 
 so had I stayed to talk. And it is not always that I could 
 . escape as I did then. You must see that." 
 
 I saw it all too plainly. 
 
 " So I thought it best to make myself scarce, and leave 
 the tourist's haunts. I sold my boat ; no difficulty in that ; 
 though, of course, the two men who bought it shaved me ; 
 and came over to Tjondon as fast as a third-class train 
 would bring me. Dare not put my nose into a first-class 
 carriage, lest I should drop upon some one of my old 
 chums."
 
 KESTITUTION. 355 
 
 "Of fill places, Tom, you should not have chosen 
 London." 
 
 " Will you tell me, old fellow, what other place I could 
 have pitched upon ? Go where I will, it seems that the 
 Philistines are likely to find me out." 
 
 We were pacing about now, side by side, keeping in the 
 shade as much as possible, and speaking in undertones. 
 
 " You will have to leave the country, Tom ; you must do 
 it ; and go somewhere over the seas." 
 
 " To Van Diemen's Land, perhaps," suggested Tom. 
 
 " Now, be quiet. The subject is too serious for jesting. 
 I should think — perhaps — America. But I must have time 
 to consider. Where do you mean to stay at present h 
 Where are you going to-night .? " 
 
 " I've been dodging about all day, not showing up much ; 
 and I'm going now to where I lodged last, in Blackfriars. 
 You remember ? " 
 
 " Yes, I remember : it is not so long ago." 
 
 " It is as safe as any other quarter, for aught I can tell, 
 and I really don't know of another." 
 
 " Are you well, Tom .? " I asked. He looked thin, and 
 seemed to have a nasty cough upon him. 
 
 " I caught cold some time ago, and it hangs about me," 
 he replied. " Oh, I shall be all right now I'm here," he 
 added carelessly. 
 
 " You ought to take a good hot jorum of something when 
 you get to bed to-night " 
 
 Tom laughed. " I am likely to get anything of that sort 
 ill any lodging I stand a chance of to-night. Well done, 
 Charley ! I haven't old Leah to coddle me." 
 
 And somehow the mocking words made me realize the 
 discomforts and deprivations of Tom Heriot's present life. 
 How would it all end ? 
 
 Wo parted with a hand-shake : he steahng off on his way
 
 356 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 to his lodging, I going thoughtfully on mine. It was a 
 calm summer evening, clear and lovely, the stars brilliant 
 in the sky, but all its peace had gone out for me. 
 
 It was impossible to foresee what the ending would or 
 could be. At any moment Tom might be recognized and 
 captured, so long as he inhabited London ; and it might 
 be difficult to induce him to leave it. Still more difficult 
 ,to cause him to depart altogether for other lands and 
 climes. 
 
 Not long before, I had consulted Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar 
 as to the possibility of obtaining a pardon for Tom. That 
 he had not been guilty was indisputable, though the law 
 had deemed him so. But the Serjeant had given me no 
 encouragement that any movement of the sort would be 
 successful. The very fact, as he pointed out, of Tom 
 Heriot's having escaped clandestinely, would tell against 
 him. What, I said then, if Tom gave himself up ? He 
 smiled, and told me I had better not ask his opinion upon 
 the practical points of the case. 
 
 So the old trouble was back again in full force, and I was 
 powerless to cope with it. 
 
 The glowing summer sun lay full upon Hastings and 
 St. Leonard's, and the ])road expanse of sea sparkled 
 beneath it. The houses that looked on the water were 
 burning and blistering under the fierce rays. Miss Bright- 
 man, seated at her drawing-room window, knitting in hand, 
 observed that it was one of the most dazzling days she 
 remembered. 
 
 The remark was made to me and to Annabel, as we sat 
 at the table, looking over a book of costly engravings that 
 Miss Brightman had recently bought. " I shall leave it 
 with you, Charles, when I go away," she said ; " you will 
 keep it for me. And if it were not that you are tied to
 
 RESTITUTION 357 
 
 London, and it would be too far for you to go up and down 
 daily, I would leave you my house also— that you might 
 use it during my absence." 
 
 Mrs. Brightman had come to her senses. Very much, 
 I confess, to my astonishment, much also I think to 
 Annabel's, she had put aside her prejudices and consented 
 to our marriage. The difficulty of where her daughter was 
 to be during Miss Brightman's sojourn in Madeira had in 
 a degree paved the way for it. Annabel would, of course, 
 have returned to her mother ; she begged hard to be allowed 
 to do so, and thought it her duty to be with her. But 
 Miss Brightman would not hear of it, and, had she yielded, 
 I should have interposed in Mr. Brightman's name. In 
 Hatch's words, strong in sense but weak in grammar, 
 " their home wasn't no home for Miss Annabel." 
 
 ]\Irs. Brightman could only be conscious of this. During 
 her sojourn at Brighton, and for some little time after her 
 return home, she had been very much better ; had fought 
 resolutely with the insidious foe, and conquered. But alas ! 
 she fell away again. Now she was almost as bad as ever ; 
 tolerably sober by day, very much the opposite at night. 
 
 Miss Brightman, dating forward, seeing, as she feared, 
 only shoals and quicksands, and most anxious for Annabel, 
 had journeyed up to Claphani to her sister-in-law, and 
 remained with her a couple of days. What passed between 
 them even Hatch never knew ; but she did know that her 
 mistress was brought to a penitent and subdued frame of 
 mind, and that she promised Lucy Brightman, with many 
 tears, to strire to overcome her fatal habit. And it was 
 during this visit that she withdrew her opposition to the 
 marriage ; when Miss Brightman returned home she carried 
 the consent with her. 
 
 And my present visit to Hastings was to discuss time 
 and place and other matters ; more pnrticularly the question
 
 358 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 of where our home was to be. A large London house we 
 were not yet rich enough to set up, and I would not take 
 Annabel to an inferior one ; but I had seen a charming 
 cottage at Richmond that might suit us — if she liked the 
 locality. 
 
 Closing the book of engravings, I turned to Miss Bright- 
 man and entered upon the subject. Suddenly her attention 
 wavered and seemed to be attracted by something in the 
 road. 
 
 " Why, bless my heart, it is ! " she cried in astonishment. 
 " If ever I saw Hatch in my life, that is Hatch — coming up 
 the street ! Annabel, child, give me the glasses." 
 
 The glasses were on the table, and I handed them to her. 
 Annabel flew to the window and grew white. She was 
 never free from fears of what might happen in her mother's 
 house. Hatch it was, and apparently in haste. 
 
 " What can be the matter ? " she gasped. " Oh, Aunt 
 Lucy ! " 
 
 " Hatch is nodding heartily, as though not much were 
 wrong," remarked Miss Brightman, who was watching her 
 through the glasses. " Hatch is peculiar in manner, as 
 you are aware, Mr. Charles, but she means no disrespect 
 by it." 
 
 I smiled. I knew Hatch quite as well as Miss Brightman 
 knew her. 
 
 " Now what brings you to Hastings ? " she exclaimed, 
 rising from her chair, when Hatch was shown in. 
 
 " My missis brought me, ma'am," returned Hatch, with 
 composure. "Miss Annabel, you be looking frightened, 
 but there's nothing wrong. Yesterday morning, all in a 
 flurry like, your mamma took it into her head to come 
 down here, and we drove down with " 
 
 " Drove down ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, with four posters to the carriage. My
 
 RESTITUTION. 359 
 
 missis cau't abear the rail ; she says folks stare at her : aud 
 here ^ve be at the Queen's Hotel, she, and me, and Perry." 
 
 " Would you not like to sit down. Hatch ? " said Miss 
 Brightman. 
 
 " My legs is used to standing, ma'am," replied Hatch, 
 with a nod of thanks, " and I've not much time to linger. 
 It was late last night when we got here. This morning, 
 up gets my missis, and downstairs she comes to her break- 
 fast in her sitting-room, and me with her to w'ait upon her, 
 for sometimes her hands is shaky, and she prefers me to 
 Perry or anybody else " 
 
 " How has your mistress been lately ? " interposed 
 Miss Brightman. 
 
 "Better, ma'am. Not always quite the thing, though 
 a deal better on the whole. But I must get on about this 
 morning," added Hatch, impressively. "'Waiter,' says 
 my missis when the man brings up the coffee. ' Mum ? ' 
 says he. ' I am subject to spadical attacks in the chest,' 
 says she, ' and should like to have some brandy in my room : 
 they take me sometimes in the middle of the night. Put 
 a bottle into it, the very best French, and a corkscrew. 
 Or you may as well put two bottles,' she goes on ; ' I may 
 be here some time.' ' It shall be done, mum,' says he. I 
 was as vexed as I could be to hear it," broke off Hatch, 
 "but what could I do ? I couldn't contradict my missis 
 and tell the man that no brandy nnist be put in her room, 
 or else she'd drink it. Well, ma'am, I goes down presently 
 to my own breakfast with Perry, and while we sat at it a 
 chambermaid comes through the room : ' I've put two 
 bottles of brandy in the lady's bedroom, as was ordered,' 
 says she. With that Perry looks at me all in a fluster 
 — he have no more wits to turn things off than a born 
 idiot. ' Very well,' says I to her, drinking my tea as if I 
 thought nothing ; ' T hopes my missis won't have no call
 
 3G0 THE STORY OF CHAKLES STRANGE. 
 
 to use 'em, but she's took awful bad in the chest sometimes, 
 and it's as well for us to be ready.' ' I'm sure I pities her,' 
 says the girl, 'for there ain't uothiug worse than spasms. 
 I has 'em myself occasional ' " 
 
 When once Hatch was in the full flow of a narrative, 
 there was no getting in a word edgeways, and Miss Bright- 
 man had to repeat her question twice : " Does Perry know 
 the nature of the illuess that affects Mrs. Brightman ? " 
 
 " Why, in course he does, ma'am," was Hatch's rejoinder. 
 *' He couldn't be off guessing it for himself, and the rest I 
 told him. Why, ma'am, without his helping, we could 
 never keep it dark from the servants at home. It was 
 better to make a confidant of Perry, that I might have 
 his aid in screening the trouble, than to let it get round 
 to everybody. He's as safe and sure as I be, and when it 
 all first came out to him, he cried over it, to think of what 
 his poor master must have suffered in mind before death 
 took him. Well, ma'am, I made haste over my breakfast, 
 and I went upstairs, and there was the bottles and the 
 corkscrew, so I whips 'em off the table and puts them out 
 of sight. Mrs. Brightman comes up presently, and looks 
 about and goes down again. Three sejjarate times she 
 comes up, and the third time she gives the bell a whirl, 
 and in runs the chambermaid, who was only outside. ' I 
 gave orders this morning,' says my lady, ' to have some 
 brandy placed in the room.' ' Oh, I have got the brandy,' 
 s;ays I, before the girl could speak ; ' I put it in the little 
 cupboard here, ma'am.' So away goes the girl, looking 
 from the corners of her eyes at me, as if suspicious I meant 
 to crib it for my own use : and my mistres^ began : ' Draw 
 one of them corks. Hatch.' ' No, ma'am,' says I, ' not yet ; 
 please don't.' ' Draw 'em both,' says missis — for there are 
 times," added Hatch, " when a trifle puts her out so much 
 that it's hazardous to cross her, I drew the cork of one,
 
 RESTITUTION. 361 
 
 and missis just pointed with her finger to the tumbler on 
 the washhand-stand, and I lironght it forward and the 
 decantsr of water. ' Now you may go,' says she ; so I took 
 up the corkscrew. ' I tokl you to leave that,' says she, in 
 her temper, and I had to come away without it, and the 
 minute I was gone she turned the key upon me. Miss 
 Aimabel, I see the words are grieving of you, but they are 
 the truth, aud I can but tell them." 
 
 " Is she there now — locked in ? " asked Miss Brightman. 
 
 "She's there now," returned Hatch, with solemn enuncia- 
 tion, to make up for her failings in grammar, which was 
 never anywhere in times of excitement ; " she is locked in 
 with them two bottles and the corkscrew, and she'll just 
 drink herself mad — and what's to be done ? I goes at once 
 to Perry and tells him. ' Let's get in through the winder,' 
 says Perry — which his brains is only fit for a gander, as 
 I've said many a time. ' You stop outside her door to 
 listen again downright harm,' says I, ' that's what you'll 
 do ; and I'll go for Miss Brightman.' And here I'm come, 
 ma'am, running all the way." 
 
 "What can I do ? " wailed Miss Brightman. 
 
 " Ma'am," answered Hatch, " I think that if you'll go 
 back with me, and knock at her room door, and call out 
 that you be come to pay her a visit, she'd undo it. She's 
 more afeared of you than of anybody living. She can't 
 have done herself much harm yet, and you might coax her 
 out for a walk or a drive, and then bring her in to dinner 
 here — anything to get her away from them two dangerous 
 bottles. If I be making too free, ma'am, you'll be good 
 enough to excuse me — it is for the family's sake. At home 
 I can manage her pretty well, but to have a scene at the 
 hotel would make it public." 
 
 " What is to be the ending ? " I exclaimed involuntarily 
 as Miss Brightman went in histe for her bonnet.
 
 362 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 "Why, the ending must be — just what it will be," 
 observed Hatch, philosophically. " But, Mr. Strange, I 
 don't despair of her yet. Begging your pardon. Miss 
 Annabel, you'd better not come. Your mamma won't 
 undo her door if she thinks there's many round it." 
 
 xlnnabel stood at the window as they departed, her face 
 turned from me, her eyes blinded with tears. I drew her 
 away, though I hardly knew how to soothe her. It was a 
 terrible grief to bear, 
 
 " My days are passed in dread of what tidings may be 
 on the way to me," she began, after a httle time given to 
 gathering composure. " I ought to be nearer my mother, 
 Charles ; I tell Aunt Lucy so almost every day. She might 
 be ill and dead before I could get to her, up in London." 
 
 "And you will be nearer to her shortly, Annabel. My 
 dear, where shall our home be ? I was thinking of Rich- 
 mond " 
 
 " No, no," she interrupted in sufficient haste to show me 
 she had ideas of her own upon the point. 
 
 "Annabel! It shall not be there: at your mother's. 
 Anywhere else." 
 
 " It is somewhere else that I want to be." 
 
 " Then you shall be. Where is it ? " 
 
 She lifted her face like a pleading child's, and spoke in 
 a whisper. " Charles, let me come to you in Essex 
 Street." 
 
 " Essex Street ! " I echoed in surprise. " My dear Annabel, 
 I will certainly not bring you to Essex Street and its 
 inconveniences. I cannot do great things for you yet, but 
 I can do better than that." 
 
 " They would not be inconveniences to me, but pleasures. 
 We would take another servant to help Watts and Leah ; 
 or two if necessary. Yon would not find me the least 
 encumbranc(i ; I would never be in the way of your
 
 EESTITUTION. 363 
 
 professional rooms. And in the evening, when you Imd 
 finished for the diiy, we would dine, and go down to 
 mamma's for an hour, and then back again. Charles, it 
 would be a happy home : let me come to it." 
 
 But I shook my head. I did not see how it could be 
 arranged ; and said so. 
 
 "No, because at present the idea is new to yon," returned 
 Annabel. " TJdiilc it over, Charles. Promise me that you 
 will do so." 
 
 " Yes, my dear ; I can at least promise you that." 
 
 There was less trouble with Mrs. Brightman that day 
 than had been anticipated. She opened her door at once 
 to her sister-in-law, who brought her back to the Terrace. 
 Hatch had been wise. lu the afternoon we all went for 
 a drive, and returned to dinner. And the following day 
 Mrs. Brightman, with her servants, departed for London 
 in their travelling-carriage, no scandal whatever having 
 been caused at the Queen's Hotel. I went up by train 
 early in the morning. 
 
 And by degrees I began to see that Annabel's coming to 
 Essex Street could be easily managed ; nay, that it would 
 be for the best. Miss Brightman strongly advocated it. 
 At present a large portion of my income had to be paid 
 over to Mrs. Brightman in accordance with her husband's 
 will, so that I could not do as I would, and must study 
 economy. Annabel would be rich in time ; for Mrs. 
 Brightman's income, vested at present in trustees, must 
 eventually descend to Annabel ; but that time had not 
 come. And who knew what trouble and expenses Tom 
 Heriot might yet bring upon me ? 
 
 Changes had to be made in the house. I determined to 
 confine the business rooms to the ground floor ; making 
 Miss Methold's parlour, which had not been much used 
 since her death, my own private consulting-room. The
 
 364 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 front room on the first floor would be our drawing-room, 
 the one behind it the dining-room. 
 
 Leah was in ecstasies when she heard the news. The 
 workmen were coming in to paint and paper, and then 
 I told her that I was going to be man'ied. 
 
 " Of course, sir, it — is " 
 
 " Is what, Leah ? " 
 
 " Miss Annabel." 
 
 " It should be no one else, Leah. We shall want another 
 servant or two, but you can still be major-domo." 
 
 " If my poor master had only lived to see it ! " she 
 uttered, with fervour. " How happy he would have been ; 
 how proud to have her here 1 Well, well, what turns things 
 take, to be sure ! "
 
 ( 365 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 CONFESSION. 
 
 October came in ; and we were married early in the 
 month, the wedding taking place from Mrs. Brightman's 
 residence, as was of course only right and proper. It was 
 so very quiet a wedding that there is not the least necessity 
 for describing it. Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar was present ; 
 Lord and Lady Level, now staying in London, drove down 
 for it ; and Captain Chantrey gave his niece away. For 
 Mrs. Brightmau had chosen to request him to accept her 
 invitation to do so, and to be accompanied by his wife, 
 Lady Grace. Miss Brightmau was also present, having 
 travelled up from Hastings the day before. Three or four 
 days later on she would sail for Madeira. 
 
 I could not spare more than a fortnight from work, 
 leaving Lennard as my locum tenens. Annabel would have 
 been glad to spare less, for she was haunted by visions of 
 what might happen to her mother. Though there was no 
 especial cause for anxiety in that quarter just now, she 
 could never feel at ease. And on my part I was more 
 anxious than ever about Tom Heriot, for more reasons 
 than one. 
 
 The fortnight came to an end, all too soon : and late on 
 the Saturday evening we reached home. "VVatts threw open 
 the door and there stood Leah in a silk gown, ready to 
 receive us with state and ceremony. The drawing-room,
 
 366 THE STORY OF CHAHLES STRANGE. 
 
 gayer than it used to be of old, was bright with a fire and 
 preparations for tea, the flames dancing on the silver 
 service. 
 
 " How homelike it looks ! " exclaimed Annabel. 
 " Charles," she whispered, turning to me with her earnest 
 eyes, as she had been wont to do when a child : " I will 
 not make the least noise when you have clients with you, 
 or put myself in evidence in any way. I do thank you 
 for letting me come to Essex Street : I should not have 
 seemed so completely your wife had you taken me any- 
 where but to your old home." 
 
 The floors above were also in order, the rooms re- 
 furnished. Leah went up to them with her new mistress, 
 and I went down to the clerks' office, telling Annabel I 
 should not be there five minutes. One of the clerks, Allen, 
 had waited ; but I had expected Lennard. 
 
 " Is Mr. Lennard not here ? " I asked. " Did he not 
 wait ? I wrote to him to do so." 
 
 " Mr. Lennard has not been here all day, sir," was 
 Allen's reply. "A messenger came from him this morning 
 to say he was ill." 
 
 We were deep in letters and other matters, I and Allen, 
 when the front door opened next the office door, and 
 there stood Arthur Lake, laughing, a light coat on his 
 arm. 
 
 " I've been down the river for a blow," cried he." " Just 
 landed at the pier here. Seeing lights in your windows, 
 I thought you must have got back, Charley." 
 
 We shook hands, and he stayed a minute, talking. 
 Then, wishing Allen good-night, he backed out of the 
 room, making an almost imperceptible movement to me 
 with his head. I followed, shutting the office door behind 
 me. Lake linked his arm in mine and drew me outside. 
 
 " I suppose you've not heard from Tom Heriot since
 
 CONFESSION. 367 
 
 you were away," breathed Lake cautiously, as we stood 
 together on the outer step. 
 
 " Xo ; I did not expect to do so. Why ? " 
 
 " I saw him three days ago," whispered Lake. " I had 
 a queer-looking letter on Wednesday morning from one 
 Mr. Dominic Turk, asking me to call at a certain place 
 in Southwark. Of course, I guessed it was Tom, and that 
 he had moved his lodgings again ; and I found I was 
 right." 
 
 " Dominic Turk ! " I repeated. " Does he call himself 
 that now ? " 
 
 Lake laughed. " He is passing for a retired school- 
 master. Says he's sure nobody can doubt his being one as 
 long as he sticks to that name." 
 
 " How is he ? Has any fresh trouble turned up ? I'm 
 sure you've something bad to tell me." 
 
 "Well, Charley, honestly speaking, it is a bad look-out 
 in more ways than one," he answered. " He is very ill, 
 to begin with ; also has an idea that a certain policeman. 
 Wren, has picked up an inkling of his return and is trying 
 to unearth him. But we can't very well talk in this place," 
 added Lake. " I've more to say " 
 
 " Come upstairs and take tea with me and Annabel," 
 I interrupted. 
 
 " Can't," said he ; " my dinner's waiting. I'm back 
 two hours later than I expected; it has been frizzling, 
 I expect, all the time. Besides, old fellow, I'd rather you 
 and I were alone. There's peril looming ahead, unless 
 I'm mistaken. Can you come round to my chamber's 
 to-morrow afternoon ? " 
 
 " No : we are going to ]\Irs. Brightman's after morning 
 service." 
 
 " It must be Monday, then ; but I don't think there's 
 much time to lose. Good night."
 
 368 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGlil. 
 
 Lake hastened up the street, and I returned to Allen 
 and the letters. 
 
 With this interruption, and with all I found to do, the 
 five minutes' absence I had promised my wife lengthened 
 into twenty. At last the office was closed for the night, 
 Allen left, and I ran upstairs, to find Annabel waiting tea. 
 
 We had scarcely sat down and x\unabel was pouring out 
 the tea, when there came a knock and a ring at the front 
 door. Not an ordinary knock and ring, but sharp, loud 
 and prolonged, resounding through the house as from some 
 impatient messenger of evil. It startled us both. Anna- 
 bel's fears flew to her mother ; mine to a different quarter, 
 for Lake's communication was troubling and tormenting 
 me. 
 
 As we stood outside on the landing, our senses strained 
 to listen. Watts opened the front door. 
 
 " Has Mr. Strange come home ? " cried a hurried voice — 
 that of a woman. 
 
 " Yes," said Watts. 
 
 " Can I speak to him ? It is on a matter of life and 
 death." 
 
 " Where do you come from ? " asked Watts, with habitual 
 caution. 
 
 " I come from Mr. Lenuard. Oh, pray do not waste 
 time ! " 
 
 I ran down. A young woman stood at the foot of the 
 stairs ; I was at a loss to guess her condition in life. She 
 had the face and manner of a lady, but her dress was poor 
 and shabby. 
 
 " I have come from my father, sir — IMr. Lennard," she 
 said in low tones, blushing very nmch. " He is dangerously 
 ill : we fear he is dying, and he fears so too. He bade me 
 say that he must see you, or he cannot die in peace. Will 
 you please be at the trouble of coming ? "
 
 CONFESSION. 369 
 
 One hasty word despatched to my wife, and I went out 
 Avith Sliss Lennard, hailing a cab, which had just set down 
 Its freight some doors higher up. " What is the matter 
 with your father ? " I questioned, as we were whirled aloug 
 towards Blackfriars Bridge in accordance with her 
 directions. 
 
 " It is inward inflammation of some sort," she replied. 
 " He was taken ill suddenly last night after he got home 
 from the office, and has been in great agony all day. This 
 evening he grew better ; the pain almost subsided ; but the 
 ■doctor said that might not prove a favourable symptom. 
 My father asked for the truth — whether he was really 
 dying, and the answer was that he might be. Then my 
 father grew terribly uneasy in mind, and said he must see 
 you if possil)le before he died — and sent me to ascertain, 
 sir, whether you had returned home." 
 
 The cab drew up at a house in a side street, a little 
 beyond Blackfriars Bridge. We entered, and Miss Lennard 
 left me in the front sitting-room. The remnants of faded 
 gentility were strangely jnixed with bareness and poverty. 
 Poor Lennard was born and bred a gentleman, but had been 
 reduced by untoward misfortune. Tritiiug ornaments stood 
 about ; " antimacassars " were thrown over the shabby 
 chairs. Miss Lennard had gone upstairs, but came down 
 quickly. 
 
 " It is the door on the left, sir, on the second landing," 
 said she, putting a candle in my hand. " My father is 
 anxiously expecting yon, but says I am not to go up." 
 
 It was a small landing, nothing in front of me but a 
 bare whitewashed Avail, and two doors to the left. I 
 blundered into the Avrong one. A nightcap border turned 
 on the bed, and a girlish face looked up from under it. 
 
 " What do you want ? " she said. 
 
 " Pardon me. I am in search of Mr. Lennard." 
 
 2 B
 
 370 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 '* Oh, it is the next room. But — sir ! wait a moment. 
 Oh, wait, wait ! " 
 
 I turned in surprise, and she put up two thiu white 
 hands in an imploring attitude. " Is it anything bad ? 
 Have you come to take him ? " 
 
 " To take him ! What do you mean ? " 
 
 " You are not a sheriff's officer ? " 
 
 I smiled at her troubled countenance. " I am Mr. 
 Strange — come to see how he is." 
 
 Down fell her hands peacefully. " Sir, I beg your 
 pardon : thank you for telling me. I know papa has 
 sometimes been in apprehension, and I lie here and fear 
 things till I grow ill and stupid, A strange step on the 
 stairs, a strange knock at the door, sets me shaking." 
 
 The next room was the right one, and Lennard was lying 
 in it on a low bed ; his face looked ghastly, his eyes wildly 
 anxious. 
 
 " Lennard," I said, " I am sorry to hear of your illness. 
 What's the matter ! " 
 
 " Sit down, Mr. Strange ; sit down," he added, pointing 
 to a chair, which I drew near. " It is inflammation : the 
 pain has ceased now, but the doctor says it is an uncertain 
 symptom : it may be for better, or it may be for worse. 
 If the latter, I have not many hours to live." 
 
 " What brought it on ? " 
 
 " I don't know ; unless it was that I drank a dmight 
 of cold water when I was hot. I have not been very strong 
 for some time, and a little thing sends me into a violent 
 heat. I had a long walk of four miles, and I think I almost 
 ran part of the way, being pressed for time. When 1 got 
 in, I asked Leah for some water, and drank two glasses of 
 it, one after the other. It seemed to chill me at the time." 
 " It was at the office, then ? Four miles ! Why did you 
 not ride ? "
 
 CONFESSION. 371 
 
 " It was not your business I was out on, sir, but my own. 
 Whether that was the cause or not, the illness came on, and 
 it cannot be remedied now. If I am to die, I must die ; 
 God is over all : but I cannot go without making a con- 
 fession to you. How the fear of death's approach alters 
 a man's views and feelings ! " he went on, in different tones. 
 " Yesterday, had I been told I must make this confession, 
 I should have said, ' Let me die, rather ; ' but it appears to 
 me now as an imperative duty, and one I must nerve myself 
 to perform." 
 
 Lennard lay on his pillow, and looked fixedly at me, and 
 I not less fixedly at him. What, in the shape of a " con- 
 fession," could he have to make to me ? He had been 
 managing clerk in Mr. Brightman's office long before I was 
 in it, a man of severe integrity, and respected by all. 
 
 " The night Mr. Brightman died," he began, under his 
 panting breath, " the bag of gold was missing — George 
 Coney's. You remember it ? " 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " I took it." 
 
 Was Lennard's mind wandering ? He was no more 
 likely to take money than I was. I sat still, gazing at him. 
 
 "Yes, it was I who took it, sir. Will you hear the 
 tale ? " 
 
 A deep breath and drawing my chair closer to his bed- 
 side was my only answer. 
 
 " You are a young man, Mr. Strange. I have taken an 
 interest in you since you first came, a lad, into the office 
 and were under my authority — Charles, do this ; Charles, 
 do the other. Not that I have shown any especial interest, 
 for outwardly I am cold and undemonstrative ; but I saw 
 what you were, and liked you in my heart. Y^ou are a 
 young man yet, I say ; and, liking you, hoping for your 
 welfiire, I pray Heaven that it may never be your fate, in
 
 372 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 after-life, to be trammelled with misfortunes as I have been. 
 For me they seem to have had no end, and the worst of 
 them all in later years has been that brought upon me by 
 an undutiful and spendthrift son." 
 
 In a moment there flashed into my mind my later trouble 
 in Tom Heriot : I seemed to be comparing the one with the 
 other. " Have you been trammelled with an undutiful 
 son ? " I said aloud. 
 
 "I have been and am," replied Lennard. "It^has been 
 my later cross. The first was that of losing my property 
 and position in life, for, as you know, I was born and reared 
 a gentleman. The last cross has been Leonard — that is his 
 name, Leonard Lennard — and it has been worse than the 
 first, for it has kept us down, and in a constant ferment for 
 years. It has kept us poor amongst the poor : my salary, 
 as you know, is a handsome one, but it has chiefly to be 
 wasted upon him." 
 
 " What age is he ? " 
 
 " Six-and-twenty yesterday." 
 
 " Then you are not forced to supply his extravagance, to 
 find money for his faults and follies. You are not obliged 
 to let him keep you down." 
 
 " By law, no," sighed poor Lennard. " But these ill- 
 doing sons sometimes entwine themselves around your very 
 heartstrings ; far rather would you suffer and suffer than 
 not ward off ill from them. He has tried his hand at many 
 occupations, but remains at none ; the result is always 
 trouble : and yet his education and intellect, his good looks 
 and perfect, pleasant manners, would fit him for almost any 
 responsible position in life. But he is utterly reckless. 
 Get into what scrape lie would, whether of debt, or worse, 
 here he was sure of a refuge and a welcome ; I received 
 him, his mother and sisters loved him. One of them is 
 bedridden," he added, in altered tones.
 
 CONFESSION. 373 
 
 " 1 went first by mistake into the next room, and probably 
 saw her." 
 
 " Yes, that's Maria. A weakness has settled in her legs ; 
 some chronic alTection, I suppose ; and there she has lain 
 for ten months. With medical attendance and sea air she 
 might be restored, they tell me, but I can provide neither. 
 Leonard's claims have been too heavy upon me." 
 
 " But should you waste means on him that ought to be 
 applied on her necessities ? " I involuntarily interrupted. 
 
 He half raised himself on his elbow, and the effort proved 
 how weak he was, and his eyes and voice betrayed a strange 
 earnestness. " When a son, whom you love better than life 
 itself, has to be saved from the consequences of his follies, 
 from prison, from worse disgrace even than that, other 
 interests are forgotten, let them be what they may. Silent, 
 patient needs give way to obtrusive wants that stare you 
 in the face, and that may bear fear and danger in their 
 train. Mr. Strange, you can imagine this." 
 
 " I do. It must ever be so." 
 
 " The pecuniary wants of a young man, such as my son is, 
 are as the cry of the horse-leech. Give ! give ! Leonard 
 mixes sometimes with distant relatives, young fellows of 
 fashion, who are moving in a sphere far above our present 
 position, although I constantly waru him not to do so. 
 One of these wants, imperative and to be provided for in 
 some way or other, occurred the beginning of February in 
 this year. How I managed to pay it I can hardly tell, but 
 it stripped me of all tlie money I could raise, and left me 
 with some urgent debts upon me. The rent was owing, 
 twelve months the previous December, and some of the 
 tradespeople were becoming clamorous. The landlord, 
 discerning the state of affairs, put in a distress, terrifying 
 poor Maria, whose illness had then not very long set in, 
 almost to death. That I had not the means to pay the man
 
 374 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 out you may judge, wbeu I tell you that we had not the 
 money to buy a joint of meat or a loaf of bread," 
 
 Lennard paused to wipe the dew from his brow. 
 
 " Maria was in bed, needing comforts ; Charlotte was 
 worn out with apprehension ; Leonard was away again, and 
 we had nothing to go on with. Of my wife I will not 
 speak : delicate in frame and delicately reared, the long- 
 continued troubles have reduced her to a sort of silent 
 apathy. No credit anywhere, and a distress in for rent ! 
 In sheer despair, I resolved to disclose part of my difficulty 
 to Mr. Brightman, and ask him to advance me a portion of 
 my next quarter's salary. I hated to do it. A reduced 
 gentleman is perhaps over-fastidious. I know I have been 
 so, and my pride rose against it. In health I could not 
 have spoken to you, Mr. Strange, as I am now doing. I 
 went on, shilly-shallying for a few days. On the Saturday 
 morning Charlotte came to me with a whisper : ' That man 
 in the house says if the rent is not paid to-night, the things 
 will be sold on Monday : it is the very last day they will 
 give.' I went to the office, my mind made up at length, 
 wondering what I should say to Mr. Brightman. Should I 
 tell him part of the truth, or should I urge some foreign 
 plea ? It was an unusually busy day : I dare say you 
 remember it, Mr. Strange, for it was that of Mr. Brightman's 
 sudden death. Client after client called, and no opportunity 
 offered for my speaking to him in private. I waited for 
 him to come down, on his way out in the evening, thinking 
 I would speak to him then. He did not come, and when 
 the clients left and I went u^tstairs, I found he was remain- 
 ing in town to see Sir Edmund Clavering. I should have 
 spoken to him at once, but you were present. He told me 
 to look in again in the course of the evening, and I hoped 
 I might find him alone. You recollect the subsequent 
 events of that night, sir ? "
 
 CONFESSION. 375 
 
 " I shall never forget them." 
 
 " When I came in, as he directed me, between seven and 
 eighc o'clock, there occurred that flurry with Leah — the 
 cause of which I never learned. She said Mr. Brightman 
 was alone, and I went up. He was lying in your room ; 
 had fallen close to his own desk, the deep drawer of which 
 stood open. I tried to raise him ; I sprinkled water on his 
 face, but I saw that he was dead. On the desk lay a small 
 canvas bag. I took it up and shook it. Why, I do not 
 know, for I declare that no wrong thought had then come 
 into my mind. He appeared to have momentarily put it 
 out of the drawer, probably in search of something, for his 
 private cheque-book and the key of the iron safe, that I 
 knew were always kept in the drawer, lay near it. I shook 
 the bag, and its contents sounded like gold. I opened it, 
 and counted thirty sovereigns. Mr. Brightman was dead. 
 I couid not apply to him ; and yet money I must have. 
 The temptation upon me was powerful, and I took it. 
 Don't turn away from me, sir. There are some temptations 
 too strong to be resisted by a man in his necessities." 
 
 " Indeed, I am not turning from you. The temptation 
 was, as you say, overwhelmingly great." 
 
 " Truly," continued the sick man, " the devil was near 
 me then. I put the key and the cheque-book inside, and I 
 locked the drawer, and placed the keys in Mr. Brightman's 
 pocket, where he kept them, and I leaped down the stairs 
 with the bag in my hand. It was all done in a minute or 
 two, though it seems long in relating it. Where should 1 
 put the bag, now I had it ? About my person ? No : it 
 might be missed and inquired for. I was in a tumult — 
 scarcely sane, I believe — and I dashed into the clerks' office, 
 and raising the lid of the coal-box put it there. Then I 
 tore off for a surgeon. You know the rest. When I re- 
 turned with him you were there ; and the next visitor,
 
 376 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 whilst we were standing round Mr. Brightman, was George 
 Coney, after his bag of money. I never shall forget the 
 feeling when you motioned me to take Mr. Brightman's 
 keys from his pocket and open the drawer. Or when — after 
 it was missed — you took me with you to search for it in the 
 very office where it was, and I moved the coal-box under the 
 desk. If you had only lifted the lid, sir ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " 
 
 " When the search was over and I went home, I had put 
 the bag in my breast-pocket. The gold saved me from 
 immediate trouble, but " 
 
 " You have sent it back to me, you knoM- — the thirty 
 pounds, and the bag too." 
 
 " Yes, I sent it back — tardily. I could not do so earlier, 
 though the crime coloured my days with remorse, and I 
 never knew a happy moment until it was restored. But 
 Leonard had been home again, and restoration was not 
 easy." 
 
 Miss Lennard opened the door at this juncture. " Papa, 
 the doctor is here. Can he come up ? He says he ought 
 to see you." 
 
 " Oh, certainly, he must come up," I interposed. 
 
 " Yes, yes, Charlotte," said Lennard. 
 
 The doctor came in, and stood looking at his patient, 
 after putting a few questions. "AVell," said he, "you are 
 better ; you will get over it." 
 
 " Do you really think so ? " I asked joyfully. 
 
 " Decidedly I do, now. It has been a sharp twinge, but 
 the danger's over. You see, when pain suddenly ceases, 
 mortification sometimes sets in, and I could not be sure. 
 But you will do this time, Mr. Lennard." 
 
 Lennard had little more to say ; and soon after the doctor 
 left I prepared to follow him. 
 
 " There's a trifle of salary due to me, Mr. Strange," he
 
 CONFESSION. 877 
 
 ^Yllispered ; " that which has been going on since quarter 
 day. I suppose you will not keep it from me ? " 
 
 " Keep it from you ! No. AViiy should I ? Do you 
 want it at once ? You can have it if you do." 
 
 Lennard looked up wistfully. " You do not dream of 
 taking me back again ? You will not do that ? " 
 
 " Taking you back ? You haven't left me yet, Lennard. 
 You and I shall understand each other better than ever 
 now." 
 
 The tears welled up to his eyes. He laid his other hand 
 — I had taken one — across bis face as I bent over him with 
 a whisper. 
 
 " What has passed to-night need never again be alluded 
 to between us ; and I shall never speak of it to another. 
 We all have our trials and troubles, Lennard. A very 
 weighty one is lying now upon me, though it is not absolutely 
 my own. It was brought upon me, you see, as yours was. 
 And it is worse than yours." 
 
 " Worse ! " he exclaimed, looking at mc. 
 
 " More dangerous in its possible consequences. Now 
 mind," I broke off, shaking him by the hand, " you are not 
 to attempt to come to Essex Street until you are quite 
 strong enough for it. But I shall see you here again on 
 Monday, for I have two or three questions to ask you as to 
 some of the matters that have transpired during my absence. 
 Good night, Ijcnnard ; keep up a good heart, and you will 
 outlive your trials yet," 
 
 And when I left him he was fairly sobbing. 
 
 W, Q. J^EWMAJV,
 
 378 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 DANGEE. 
 
 Mrs. Brtohtman was improviii((. \Vhen I reached her 
 lioiise with Annabel on the following day, Snnday, between 
 one and two o'clock, she was bright and cheerfnl, and came 
 towards the entrance-gates to meet us. She displayed great 
 interest in all we told her of our honeymoon in the Isle 
 of Wight, the places we had visited, the friends we had 
 met. I also noticed that she took only water with her 
 dinner. 
 
 " If she'll only keep to it," said Hatch, joining me in her 
 unceremonious fashion, as later I strolled in the garden to 
 smoke a cigar. " Yes, Mr. Strange, she's trying hard to put 
 bad habits away from her, and I hope she'll be able to do it. 
 Miss Brightman went back to Hastings the day after the 
 wedding ; but before she started she had a long interview 
 with my mistress, they two shut up in missis's bedroom 
 alone. For pretty nigh all the rest of the day my missis 
 was in tears, and she has not touched nothing strong since." 
 
 It seemed almost too good to be true. "Why, that's 
 a fortnight ago ! " I exclaimed. " More than a fortnight." 
 
 " Well, it is so, Mr. Strange. Not but that missis has 
 tried as long and as hard before now— and failed again." 
 
 It was Monday evening before I could find time to go 
 round to Lake's— and he did not come to me. He was at 
 home, poring over some difficult law case by lamp-light.
 
 DANGER. 379 
 
 " Been iu courb all day," he cried. " Have not had 
 a minute to spare for you, CUiarlcy." 
 
 " About Tom ? " I said, as I sat down. " Yon seemed 
 to say that you had more unpleasantness to tell me." 
 
 " Ay, about Tom," he replied, turning to face me. 
 " Well, I fear Tom is in a bad way." 
 
 " In health, you mean ? " 
 
 " I do. He coughs frightfully, and is more like a skeleton 
 than a living being. I should say the illness has affected 
 his lungs." 
 
 " Has he had a doctor ? " 
 
 " Xo. Asks how he is to have one. Says a doctor 
 might — they were his own words — smell a rat. Doctors ai'e 
 not called in to the class of people lodging in that house 
 unless they are dying : and it would soon be seen by any 
 educated man that Tom is not of their kind. My opinion 
 is, that a doctor could not do him much good now," added 
 Lake. 
 
 He looked at me as he spoke, and I took in his full 
 meaning. 
 
 " What do you think he is talking of now ? " returned 
 Lake. " Of giving himself up." 
 
 " What, to justice ? " 
 
 Lake nodded. " You know what Tom Heriot is — not 
 much like other people." 
 
 " But that would end everything ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " I was on the point of asking him for a reason," said 
 Lake. " Whether I should have had a satisfactory answer, 
 I cannot say ; I should think he could not give one ; but 
 we were interrupted by the entrance of Miss Betsy Lee." 
 
 " Who ? " I cried, starting upright in my chair. 
 
 " The young lady you told me about who lives in Lambeth 
 — Miss Betsy Lee. She came over to bring him a pot of 
 jelly."
 
 380 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Then he has let those people know where he is ! Lake, 
 is he mad ? " 
 
 " He is frightfully rash," returned Lake. " I tell you 
 Tom Heriot's not like other men." 
 
 " He will leave himself no chance." 
 
 " She seems to be a modest little woman," said Lake ; 
 " and I'll go bail her visit was quite honest and proper. 
 She had made this jelly, she told Tom, and hoped it would 
 strengthen him, and her father sent his respects, and hoped 
 to hear that Captain Strange was feeling better." 
 
 Lake gave me the address in Southwark, and I determined 
 to see Tom the next evening. In that, however, I was dis- 
 appointed. One of our oldest clients, passing through 
 London from the country on his way to Pan, summoned me 
 on the Tuesday evening. 
 
 But I went on the Wednesday. The stars were shining 
 as I traversed the silent street on my way to Tom's lodgings. 
 He had only an attic bedroom, I found, and I went up to 
 it. He was partly lying across the bed when I entered. 
 
 I almost thought even then that I saw death written in 
 his face. "White, wan, shadowy it looked ; much changed, 
 much worn from what it was three weeks before. But it 
 lighted up with a smile as he got up to greet me. 
 
 " Halloa, Charley ! " cried he. "Best congratulations! 
 Made yourself into a respectable man. All good luck to 
 yourself and madam. I'm thinking of coming to Essex 
 Street to pay the wedding visit." 
 
 " Thank you," said I, " but do be serious. My coming 
 here is hazardous, as you know, Tom ; don't let us waste in 
 nonsense the few minutes I may remain with you." 
 
 "Nonsense !" cried Tom. " Do you think I should be 
 afraid to venture to Essex Street ?— what nonsense is there 
 in that ? Look here ! " 
 
 From some box in a dark corner of the room, he got out
 
 DANGER. 381 
 
 an old big blue cloak lined with red, and swimg it on. The 
 collar, made of some black curly wool, stood up above 
 his ears. He walked about the small room, exhibiting 
 himself. 
 
 " Would the sharpest officer in Scotland Yard take me 
 for any one but old Major Carlen ? " laughed he. " I'm 
 sure I look like his double in this elegant cloak. It was 
 really his once." 
 
 " Major Carlen's ? " 
 
 " Jnst so. He made me a present of it." 
 
 " Yon have seen him, then ! " 
 
 " I sent for him," answered Tom, throwing off the cloak 
 and coughing painfully after his recent exertion . " I thought 
 I should like to see the old fellow ; for I felt there was no 
 fear of his betraying me ; Carlen would never do that ; so 
 I dropped a quiet note to his club, taking the chance of his 
 being in town." 
 
 " And suppose he had not been in town, Tom, and the 
 note had fallen into hands who chose to open it ? " 
 
 " Well — what then ? They would only have given an 
 impatient word to Mr. Dominic Turk, the retired school- 
 master, and closed up the note again for the Major." 
 
 "And what would Major Carlen make of Mr. Dominic 
 Turk ? " 
 
 " Major Carlen would know my handwriting, Charley." 
 
 " And he came in answer to it ? " 
 
 " He came : and blew me up in a loud and awful 
 fashion. First, threatened to go out for the police ; next, 
 vowed he would go straight off to Blanche and tell her 
 all. Finally, he calmed down and promised to send me 
 one of his cast-off cloaks as a disguise, in case I had to 
 go out. Isn't it a beauty ? " 
 
 " Well, now, Tom, what is going to become of you, and 
 what is to be done ? "
 
 382 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " I wish I could tell you, but I don't know myself," said 
 he lightly. 
 
 " What insane thing was that you said to Lake about 
 giving yourself up ? " 
 
 " Upon my word of honour, Charley, I sometimes feel 
 inclined to do it. I couldn't be much worse off in prison 
 than I am here. Sick and sad, needing comforts that can't 
 be had in such a place as this ; no one to see after me, no 
 one to attend to me. And it would end the suspense that 
 is worse than all." 
 
 I sat turning things about in my mind, but from every 
 point of view it seemed full of hazard. That he must be 
 got away from his present quarters was certain, and I 
 told him so. 
 
 I could make no impression upon him and gave up 
 contending. After sitting a little time longer, I promised 
 that he should shortly see me again or hear from me, and 
 took my departure, full of doubt and trouble. 
 
 Three-parts of the night I lay awake, thinking of 
 different plans. None seemed feasible. In the morning I 
 was hardly fit for work, and applied myself with unsteady 
 nerves and worried brain. 
 
 I was upstairs in the dining-room at one o'clock, taking 
 luncheon with Annabel, Avhen the door was thrown back by 
 Watts and there loomed into the room the old blue cloak 
 with the red lining. For a moment I thought it was the 
 one I had seen the past night in Southwark, and my heart 
 leaped into my mouth. Watts's quiet announcement dis- 
 pelled the alarm. 
 
 " Major Carlen, sir." 
 
 The Major unclasped his cloak after shaking hands with 
 us, and flung it across the sofa, just as Tom had flung his 
 on the bed. I pointed to the cold beef, and asked if he 
 would take some.
 
 DANGER. 383 
 
 " Don't miud if I do, Charles," said he, drawing a chair 
 to the table : " I'm too much bothered just now to take my 
 proper meals. A pretty kettle of fish this is, that you and 
 I have had brought upon us ! " 
 
 I gave him a warning look, glancing at Annabel. The 
 old fellow understood me — she had not been trusted with 
 the present trouble. That Tom Heriot had effected his 
 escape, Aimabel knew ; that it was expected he would make 
 his way home, she knew ; but that he had long been here 
 and was now close at hand, I had never told her. Why 
 inflict upon her the suspense I had to endure ? 
 
 " Rather a chilly day for the time of year," observed the 
 Major, as he coughed down his previous words. " Just a 
 little, Mrs. Strange ; underdone, please." 
 
 Annabel, who carved at Inncheon-time, helped him care- 
 fully. "And what kettle of fish are you and Charles 
 troubled with. Major ? " she inquired, smiling. 
 
 "Ah — aw— don't care to say much about it," answered 
 the Major, more ready at an excuse than I should have 
 deemed him. " Blanche is up to her ears in anger against 
 Level ; says she'll get a separation from him, and all that 
 kind of nonsense. But you and I may as well not make it 
 our business, Charles, I expect : better let married folk 
 fight out their own battles. And have -you heard from 
 your Aunt Lucy yet, Mrs. Strange, and how does she like 
 Madeira ? " 
 
 So the subject was turned off for the time ; but down 
 below, in my office, the Major went at it tooth and nail, 
 talking himself into a fever. All the hard names in the 
 Major's vocabulary were hurled at Tom. His original sin 
 was disgraceful enough, never to be condoned, said the 
 Major ; but his present imprudent procedure was desperately 
 wicked. 
 
 " Are Blanche and her husband still at variance ? " 1
 
 384 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 asked, when he had somewhat cooled down on the other 
 subject. 
 
 "They just are, aud are Ukelj to remain so," growled 
 the Major. " It's Blanche's fault. Men have ways of 
 their own, and she's a little fool for wishing to interfere 
 with his. Don't let your wife begin that, Charles ; it's my 
 best advice to you. You are laughing ! "Well, perhaps you 
 and Level don't row in quite the same boat ; but you can't 
 foresee the shoals you may steer into. No one can." 
 
 AVe were interrupted by Lennard, who had come back on 
 the previous day, pale and pulled down by his sharp attack 
 of illness, but the same efficient man of business as ever. 
 A telesram had been delivered, which he could not deal 
 with without me. 
 
 "I'll be off, then," said the Major; "I suppose I'm 
 only hindering work. And I wish you well through your 
 difficulties," he added significantly. " I wish all of us well 
 through them. Good day, Mr. Lennard." 
 
 Lennard stayed beyond time that evening, and was 
 ready in my private room to go over certain business with 
 me that had transpired during my own absence. I could 
 not give the necessary attention to it, try as earnestly as I 
 would : Tom and his business kept dancing in my brain to 
 the exclusion of other things. Lennard asked me whether 
 I was ill. 
 
 " No," I answered : " at least, not in body." And as I 
 spoke, the thought crossed me to confide the trouble to 
 Lennard. He had seen too much trouble himself not to be 
 safe and cautious, and perhaps he might suggest some- 
 thing. 
 
 " Let Captain Hcriot come to me," he immediately said. 
 " He could not be safer anywhere. >Sometimes we let our 
 drawing-room floor ; it i;-; vacant now and he can have it. 
 My wife and my daughter Charlotte will attend to his
 
 DANGER. 383 
 
 comforts and nurse him, if that may be, back to healtli. 
 It is tlie best thing that can be* done with him, Mv. 
 Strange." 
 
 I saw all the advantages of the proposal at a grasp, and 
 accepted it. We consulted as to how best to effect Tom's 
 removal, which Lennard himself undertook. I dropped 
 a hasty note to " Mr. Turk " to prepare him to be in 
 readiness the following evening, and Leunard posted it 
 when he went out. He had no sooner gone, than the door 
 slowly opened, and, rather to my surprise, Leah appeared. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, for presuming to disturb you 
 here," she said, " but I can't rest. There's some great 
 trouble afloat : I've seen it in your looks and ways, sir, 
 ever since Sunday. Your face couldn't deceive me when 
 you Avere my little nursling, sir, and it can't deceive me 
 now. Is it about Mr. Tom ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, it is, Leah." 
 
 Her face turned white. " He is not taken, surely ? " 
 
 " Xo ; it's not so bad as that — yet." 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! " she returned. " I knew it was 
 about him, and am in fear and trembling from morning 
 till night. I can't sleep or eat for dread of the news any 
 moment may bring of him. It seems to me, Mr. Charles, 
 that one must needs be for ever in fear and trembling in 
 this world ; before one trouble is over, another turns up. 
 Xo sooner am I a bit relieved al)out poor Xancy, that 
 unfortunate daughter of mine, than there comes this trouble 
 al)out Mr. Tom." 
 
 The relief Leah spoke of was this : some relatives of 
 Leah's former husljand, Nancy's father, had somehow got 
 to hear of Nancy's misfortunes. Instead of turning from 
 her, they had taken her and her cause in hand, and had 
 settled her and her three children in a general shop in 
 Hampshire near to themselves, where she was already 
 
 2 c
 
 886 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 beginning to earn a good living. Tlie man who was tlie 
 cause of all the mischief had emigrated, and meant never 
 to return to Europe. 
 
 And Leah had taken my advice in the matter and 
 disclosed all to Watts. He was not in the least put out by 
 it, as she had feared he would be ; only told her she was 
 a simpleton for not having confided in him before. 
 
 i
 
 ( 387 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 AVITII MR. JONES. 
 
 " My Dear Charles, — I particularly wish yon to come to 
 me. I want some legal advice, and would rather you acted 
 for me than any one else. Come up this morning, please. 
 
 " Your affectionate sister, 
 " Blanche." 
 
 The above note, brought from Gloucester Place on 
 Monday morning by one of Lady Level's servants, reached 
 me before ten o'clock. By the dashing character of the 
 handwriting, I judged that Blanche had not been in the 
 calmest temper when she penned it. 
 
 " Is Lord Level at home ? " I inquired of the man Sanders. 
 
 "No, sir. His lordship went down to Marshdalc 
 yesterday evening. A telegram came for him, and I think 
 it was in consequence of it that he went." 
 
 I wrote a few words to Blanche, telling her I would bo 
 with her as soon as possible, and sent it by Sanders. 
 
 But a lawyer's time is not always his own. One client 
 after another kept coming in that morning, as though on 
 purpose ; and it was half -past twelve when I reached 
 Gloucester Place. The house had been for some little time 
 now entirely rented by Lord Level. The Major, when in 
 London, had rooms in Seymour Street, but lived chiefly at 
 • his club.
 
 388 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Her ladyship lias goue out, sir," was Sanders's greeting, 
 when he answered my ring at the door-bell. 
 
 " Gone out ? " 
 
 " Just gone," confirmed Major Carlcn, who was there, 
 it seemed, and came forward in the wake of Sanders. 
 " Come in, Charles." 
 
 He turned into the dining-room, and I after him. 
 " Blanche ought to have remained at home," I remarked. 
 " I have come up at the greatest inconvenience." 
 
 " She has gone off iu a tantrum," cried the IMajor, 
 lowering his voice as he carefully closed the door and 
 pushed a chair towards me, just as if the house were still 
 in his occupancy. 
 
 " But where has she gone ? " I asked, not taking the 
 chair, but standing with my elbow on the mantelpiece. 
 
 " Who's to know ? To you, in Essex Street, I shouldn't 
 wonder. She was on the heights of impatience at your 
 not coming." 
 
 "Xot to Essex Street, I think, Major. I should have 
 seen her." 
 
 " Nonsense ! There's fifty turnings and windings between 
 this and Essex Street, where you might miss one another ; 
 your cab taking the straight way and she the crooked," 
 retorted the Major, " When Blanche gets her back up, 
 you can't easily put it down again." 
 
 " Something has gone contrary, I expect." 
 
 " Nothing has gone contniry, but herself," re})licd the 
 ]\Iajor, who seemed in a cross and contrary mood on his 
 own part. " Women are the very deuce for folly." 
 
 " Well, what is it all about, sir r I suj)pose you can 
 tv]\ me ? " 
 
 The Major sat down in an easy-chair, pushed back his 
 cloak, and j^repared to explain. 
 
 "What it's all about is just nothing; but so far as
 
 WITH ^IR. JONES. 389 
 
 Madame Blauclie's versiou goes, it is this," said he. " They 
 were about to sit down, yesterday evening, to dinner — • 
 which they take on Sundays at iive o'clock (good, pious 
 souls !), and limit their fare to roast beef and a tart — Avheu 
 a telegram arrived from Marshdale. J\Iy lord seemed put 
 out about it ; my lady was no doubt the same. ' I must 
 go down at once, Blanche,' said he, speaking on the spur 
 of the moment. ' But why ? AYhy need you go down ? ' 
 returned she. ' Surely there can be nothing at Marshdale 
 to take you away on Sunday in this haste ? ' ' Yes,' said 
 he, ' there is ; there's illness.' And then, Blanche says, he 
 tried to cough down the words, as if he had made a slip of 
 the tongue. ' Who is ill ? ' said I^knche. ' Let me see 
 the telegram.' Level slid the telegram into his pocket, 
 and told lier it was Mr. Drewitt, the old steward. Down 
 he sat again at the table, swallowed a mouthful of foo;!, 
 sent Sanders to put up a few things in a small portmanteau, 
 and was off in a cab like the wind. Fact is," added the 
 Major, "had he failed to catch that particular train, he 
 would not have got down at all, being Sunday ; and 
 Sanders says tliat catching it must have been a near shave 
 for Ins lordship." 
 
 " Is that all ? " 
 
 "No. This morning there was delivered here a letter 
 for licvel ; post-mark Marshdale, handwriting a certain 
 Italian one that Blanche had seen before. She has seen 
 the writer, too, it seems — a fair lady called Nina. Blanche 
 argues that as the letter came from JMarslidale, the lady 
 must l)e at Marshdale, and she means to know without 
 delay, she says, who and what this damsel is, what the tie 
 may be that binds her to liCvel, gives her the right to 
 ])ursue him as she does, and the power to influence his 
 movements, and to be at her beck and call. The probability 
 is," added the shrewd Major, " that this per.son wrote to
 
 390 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 liim on the Saturday, but, being a foreigner, was not aware 
 that he would not receive her letter on Sunday morning. 
 Finding that he did not arrive at Marslidale on the Sunday, 
 and the day getting ou, she despatched the telegram. 
 That's how I make it out, Charles ; I don't know if I am 
 right." 
 
 " You think, then, that some Italian lady is at 
 Marshdale ? " 
 
 " Sure of it," returned the lilajor. " I've heard of it 
 before to-day. Expect she lives there, making journeys 
 to her own laud between whiles no doubt. The best and 
 the worst of us get homesick." 
 
 " You mean that she lives there in — in — well, in a 
 manner not quite orthodox, and that Level connives 
 at it ? " 
 
 " Connives at it ! " echoed the old reprobate. " Why, 
 he is at the top and bottom of it. Level's a man of the 
 world, always was, and does as the world does. And that 
 little ignorant fool, Blanche, ferrets out some inkling of 
 this, and goes and sets up a fuss 1 Level's as good a 
 husband to her as can be, and vet she's not contented ! 
 Commend me to foolish women ! They are all alike I " 
 
 In his indignation against women in general. Major 
 Carlen rose from his chair and began striding up and down 
 the room. I was pondering on what he had said to me. 
 
 " What right have wives to rake up particulars of their 
 husbands' private affairs ? " he demanded fiercely. " If 
 Level does go off to Marshdale for a few days' sojourn now 
 and again, is it any business of 131anche's what he goes for, 
 or what he does there, or whom he sees ? Suppose he 
 chose to maintain a whole menagerie of — of — Italian 
 monkeys there, ought Blanche to interfere and make a 
 bother over it ? " 
 "But "
 
 WITH MR. JONES. 3'Jl 
 
 " He docs not offend her ; he does not allow her to see 
 that anytliing exists to offend her : why, then, should she 
 suspect this and tliat, and peep and peer after Level as if 
 slie were a detective told off expressly to watch his move- 
 ments ? " continued the angry man. " Only an ignorant 
 girl would dream of doing it. I am sick of her folly." 
 
 " "Well now, Major Carlen, will you listen to me for a 
 moment ? " I said, speaking quietly and calmly as au 
 antidote to his heat. " I don't believe this. I think you 
 and Blanche are both mistaken." 
 
 He brought himself to an anchor on the hearthrug, and 
 stared at me under his thick, grizzled eyebrows. " What 
 is it that you don't believe, Charles ? " 
 
 " This that ^you insinuate about Marshdalc. I have 
 faith in Level ; I like him ; and I think you are mis- 
 judging him.' 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " responded the"" Major. " I suppose you 
 know what a wild blade Level always was ? " 
 
 " In his early days he may have l)ecn. But you may 
 depend upon it that when he married he left his wild ways 
 behind him." 
 
 "All right, Mr. Charles. And, upon my word, you arc 
 pretty near as young in the world's ways as Blanche herself 
 is," was the Major's sarcastic remark. " Do you wish to 
 tell me there's nothing up at Marshdale, with all these 
 mysterious telegrams to Level, and his scampers to and fro 
 
 in answer ? " 
 
 " I admit that there seems to be some mystery at Marsh- 
 dale ; something we do not understand, and that Lord 
 Level does not intend us to understand ; but I must have 
 further proof before I can believe it is of such a nature as 
 you hint at. Major. For a long time past. Lord Level has 
 appeared to me like a man in trouble ; as if he had some 
 anxiety on his mind."
 
 392 THE STORY 01' CHAELES STRANGE. 
 
 " Well," acquiesced the Major, equably, " and what cau 
 trouble a mau's mind more than the exactions of these 
 foreign sirens ? Let them be Italian, Spanish, French — 
 Avhat you will — they'll worry your life out of you in the 
 long-ran. What does that Italian girl do at Marshdale ? " 
 
 " I cannot s;iy. For my own part I do not know that 
 one is there. But if she be, if there be a whole menagerie 
 of Italian ladies there, as you have just expressed it " 
 
 " I said monkeys," growled the Major. 
 
 "Monkeys, then. But whether monkeys or ladies, I feel 
 convinced that Lord Level is acting no unworthy part — 
 that he is loyal to his wdfe." 
 
 " You had better tell her so," nodded the Major ; " per- 
 haps she'll believe you. I told her the opposite. I told 
 her that when women marry gay and attractive men, they 
 must look out for squalls, and learn to shut their eyes a 
 bit in going through life. I bade her bottle up her fancies, 
 and let Marshdale and her husband alone, and not show 
 herself a simpleton before the public." 
 
 " What did she say to that ? " 
 
 " Say ? It was that piece of advice which raised the 
 storm. She burst out of the room like a maniac, declaring 
 she wouldn't remain in it to listen to me. The next thing, 
 I heard the street-door bang and saw my lady go out, 
 putting on her gloves as she went. You came up two 
 minutes afterwards." 
 
 It was of no use my remaining longer ; and time, that 
 day, Avas precious to me as gold. Major Carlen threw on 
 his cloak, and we Avent out together. 
 
 "I should not wonder if my young lady has gone to 
 Suymour Street," remarked he. " The thought has just 
 occuiTed to me." 
 
 "To your lodgings, you mean?" I aslscd, thinking it 
 very unlikely.
 
 WITH Mil. JONES. 393 
 
 '' Yes ; Mrs. Guy is there. The poor old thing arrived 
 from Jersey ou Saturday. She has come over ou her usual 
 crraud— to cousulb the doctors ; grows more ridiculously 
 fanciful as she grows older. You might just look iu upon 
 her now, Charles ; it's close by : and then you'll see whether 
 Blanche is there or not." 
 
 I spared a few minutes for it. Pour Mrs. G uy looked 
 really ill ; but she was meek and mild as ever, and burst 
 into tears as I greeted her. Her ailments I promised to 
 go and hear all about another time. Yes, Blanche was 
 there. When we went in, she was laughing at something 
 Mrs. Guy had said, and her indignation seemed to have 
 subsided. 
 
 I could not stay long. Blanche came out with me, 
 thinking I should go back with her to Gloucester Piace. 
 But that was impossible ; I had already wasted more time 
 than I could spare. Blanche was vexed. 
 
 " My dear, you should not have gone out when you were 
 expecting me. l^'ou know how very much I am occupied." 
 
 " Papa vexed me, and drove me to it," she answered. 
 " He said — oh, such wicked things, that I could not and 
 would not stay to listen. And all the. while I knew it 
 was not that he believed them, but that he wanted to make 
 excuses for Lord Level." 
 
 I did not contradict her. Let lier retain, an she could, 
 some little veneration for her step-father. 
 
 " Charles, I want to have a long conversation with you, 
 so you must come to me as soon as you can," she said. 
 " I mean to have a separation from my husband — perhaps 
 a divorce — and I want you to tell me how I must proceed 
 in it. I did think of applying to Jennings and Ward, 
 Lord Level's solicitors, but perhaps you will be best." 
 
 I laughed. " You don't suppose, do you, iilanche, that 
 Level's solicitors would act for you against him r "
 
 394 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGI^. 
 
 ^ 
 
 "Now, Charles, you are speaking liglitly and making 
 game of me. AVhy do you laugh ? I can tell you it is 
 more serious than you may think for — and I'm serious. 
 I have talked of this for a long time, and now I will act. 
 How shall I begin ? " 
 
 " Do not begin at all, Blanche," I said, with earnestness. 
 " Bo nothi)ifj. Were your father living — were your mother 
 living — they would both give you this advice, and this is 
 not the first time I have enjoined it on you. Ah, my dear, 
 you do not know — you little guess what misery to the wife 
 such a climax as this which you propose would involve." 
 
 Blanche's eyes were full of tears. 
 
 " On the other hand, Charles, you do not know, you 
 cannot guess, what I have to bear— what a misery it makes 
 of my life." 
 
 " Are you sure of the facts that make the misery ? " 
 
 " Why, of course I am." 
 
 " I think not, Blanche. I think you are mistaken." 
 
 She turned to me in surprise. " But I cannot be mis- 
 taken," she said. " How is it possible ? If Lord Level 
 does not go to Marshdale to— to— to see people, what does 
 he go for ? " 
 
 " He may go for many things. My dear, I have more 
 confidence in your husband than you have, and I think 
 you are wrong. I must be off ; I haven't another 
 moment ; but these are my last words to you, Blanche.— 
 Take no action. Be still. Do nolhingy 
 
 ]5y half-past four o'clock, the most pressiug of my work 
 was over for the day, and then I took a cab to Lincoln's 
 Inn to see IMr. Serjeant Stillingfar. Some remarkably 
 troublesome business had been laid before me by a client ; 
 I could not see my way in it at all, and was taking it to 
 tlie Serjeant. 
 
 The old chambers were just as they used to be ; as they
 
 WITH MR. JONES. 39S 
 
 Wel-e on the day Avliicli the reader has heard of, when I saw 
 them for the first time. Emmiug up the stairs, there sat 
 a clerk at the desk in the narrow room, where young Lake, 
 full of impudence, had sat that day, Mr. Jones's empty 
 place beside it now, as it was then. 
 
 " Is the Serjeant in ? " I asked the clerk. 
 
 •' No, sir ; he's not out of Court yet. Mr. Jones is in." 
 
 I went on to the inner room. Old Jones, the Serjeant's 
 own especial clerk, was writing at his little desk in the 
 corner. Nothing was changed ; not even old Jones him- 
 self. He was not, in appearance, a day older, nor an ounce 
 heavier. Lake used to tell him he would make his fortune 
 if he went about the country in a caravan and called 
 himself a consumptive lamp-post. 
 
 " My uncle is not back from Court, Graham says," I 
 observed to the clerk, after shaking hands. 
 
 •' Not yet," he answered. " I don't think he'll be long. 
 Sit down, Mr. Strange." 
 
 I took the chair I had taken that first day years ago, 
 and waited. Mr. Jones finished the writing he was about, 
 arranged his papers, and then came and stood with his back 
 to the fire, quill in hand. It must be a very hot day indeed 
 which did not see a fire in that grate. 
 
 " If the Serjeant is not back speedily, I think I must 
 open my business to you, and get your opinion, Jones," 
 I said. " I dare say you could give me one as well as he." 
 
 " Some complicated case that you can't quite manage .^ " 
 he rejoined. 
 
 " It's the most comphcated, exasperating case I ever had 
 brought to me," I answered. " I thhik it is a matter more 
 for a detective to deal with than a solicitor. If Serjeant 
 Stillingfar says the same, I shall throw it up." 
 
 " Curious things, some of those detective cases," remarked 
 Mr. Jones, gently waving his pen.
 
 3D6 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 "They are. I wouklu'b have to deal ^vith them, as a 
 detective, for the world. Shall I relate this particular case 
 to you ? " 
 
 He took out his watch and looked at it. " Better wait 
 a bit longer, Mr. Charles. I expect the Serjeant every 
 minute now." 
 
 " Don't you wonder that my uncle continues to work ? " 
 I cried presently. " He is old now. / should retire." 
 
 " He is sixty-five. If you were nob young yourself, you 
 v.'ould not call that old." 
 
 " Old enough, I should say, for work to be a labour to 
 him." 
 
 "A labour that he loves, and that he is as capable of 
 performing as he Avas twenty years ago," returned old 
 Jones. "No, Mr. Strange, I do not wonder that he 
 continues to work." 
 
 " Did you know that he had been offered a judgeship ? " 
 
 Old Jones laughed a little. I thought it was as much as 
 to say there was little which concerned the Serjeant that he 
 did not know. 
 
 " He has been offered a judgeship more than once — had 
 it pressed upon him. The last time was when Mr. Baron 
 Charlton died." 
 
 " Why, that is only a month or two ago ! " 
 
 " Just about nine weeks, I fancy." 
 
 " And he declined it ? " 
 
 " He declines them all." 
 
 " Bub what can his motive be ? lb would give him more 
 rest than he enjoys " 
 
 "I don't altogether know that," interrupted the clerk. 
 " The judges are very nuich overworked now. It would 
 increase his responsibility ; and he is one to feel that, 
 perliaps painfully." 
 
 " You mean when he had to pass the dread sentence
 
 WITH MR. JONES. 307 
 
 of death, A new judge must always feel that at the 
 beg'iimuig." 
 
 " I heard one of our present judges say — it was in this 
 room, too, Mr. Cliarles — that the first time he put on tlie 
 black cap he never closed his eyes the whole night after it. 
 All the Bench are not so sensitive as that, you know." 
 
 " Surely," I cried, " you do not mean that ihat is the 
 reason for my uncle's refusing a seat on the Bench ! " 
 
 " Xot at all. He'd get over that in time, as others do. 
 Oh no ! that has nothing to do with it." 
 
 " Then I really cannot see what can have to do with it. 
 It would give him rank and position." 
 
 " But it would take from him half his income. Yes, 
 just about half, I reckon," repeated Mr. Jones, attentively 
 regarding the feather of the pen. 
 
 " What of that ? He must be putting by heaps of 
 money — and he has neither wife nor child to put by for." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the clerk, " that is just how we all are apt 
 to judge of a neighbour's business. AVould it surprise you 
 very much, sir, if I told you that the Serjeant is not putting 
 by heaps of money ? " 
 
 "But he must be doing so. Or what becomes of his 
 money ? " 
 
 " He spends it, Mr. Charles." 
 
 " Spends it ! Upon what ? " 
 
 " Upon other people." 
 
 Mr. Jones looked at me from across the hearthrug, and 
 I looked at him. The assertion puzzled me. 
 
 " It's true," he said with a nod. " You have not for- 
 gotten that great calamity which happened some ten or 
 twelve years ago ? That bank which went to pieces, and 
 broke up homes and hearts ? Your money went in it." 
 
 As if I could forget that ! 
 
 " The Serjeant's money, all he had then saved, went in
 
 398 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 it," continued the clerk. " Mortifying enough, of course, 
 but he was in the full swing of his prosperity, and could 
 soon have replaced it. What he could not so easily replace 
 was the money he had been the means of placing in the 
 bank belonging to other people, and wliich Avas lost. He 
 had done it for the best. He held the bank to be 
 thoroughly sound and prosperous ; he could not have had 
 more confidence in his own integrity than he had in that 
 bank ; and he had counselled friends and others whom he 
 knew, who were not as well off as he was, to invest all they 
 could spare in it, believing he was doing them a kindness. 
 Instead of that, it ruined them." 
 
 I thought I saw what the clerk was coming to. After a 
 pause, he went on : 
 
 "It is these people that he has been working for, Mr. 
 Charles. Some of them he has entirely repaid — the money, 
 you know, which he caused them to lose. He considered 
 it his duty to recompense them, so far as he could ; and to 
 keep them, where they needed to be kept, until he had 
 effected that. For those who were better off and did not 
 need present help, he put money by as he could spare it, 
 investing it in the funds in their name : I dare say your 
 name is amongst them. That's what Mr. Serjeant Stilling- 
 far does with his income, and that's why he keeps on 
 working." 
 
 I had never suspected this. 
 
 "I believe it is almost accomplished now," said the 
 clerk. " So nearly that I thought he might, perhaps, have 
 taken the judgesliip on this last occasion. Bat he did not. 
 ' Just a few months longer in harness, Jones,' he said to 
 
 me, ' and then ? ' So I reckon that we shall yet see 
 
 him on the Bench, Mr. Charles," 
 
 " He must be a singularly good man." 
 
 " Good I " echoed old Jones, with emotion ; " he is made
 
 WITH MR. JONES. 399 
 
 up of goodness. There are few people like him. I don't 
 believe there's any man who has ever done a single service 
 for him of the most trifling nature but he would wish to 
 place beyond the reach of poverty. ' I've put a trifle l)y 
 for you, Jones,' he said to me the other day, ' in case you 
 might be at a loss when my time's over.' And when I 
 tried to thank him " 
 
 Mr. Jones broke down. Bringing the quill pen under 
 his eye, as if he suddenly caught sight of a flaw thereon, 
 I saw a drop of water fall on to it. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Charles, he said that to me. It has taken a 
 load from my mind. When a man is on the downhill of 
 life and is not sure of his future, he can't help being 
 anxious. The Serjeant has paid me a liberal salary, as 
 you may well guess, but he knows that it has not been 
 in my power to put by a fraction of it. ' You are too 
 generous with your money, Serjeant,' I said to him one 
 day, a good while ago. ' Ah no, Jones, not at all,' he 
 answered. ' God has prospered me so marvellously in these 
 later years, what can I do but strive to prosper others ? ' 
 Those were his very words." 
 
 And with these last words of Jones's our conference 
 came to an end. The door was abruptly thrown open by 
 Graham to admit the Serjeant. Mr. Jones helped him off 
 with his wig and gown, and handed him the little flaxen 
 top that he wore when not on duty. Then Jones, leaving 
 the room for a few moments, came back with a glass of 
 milk, which he handed to his master. 
 
 "Would not a glass of wine do you more good, uncle ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 " No, Charles ; not so much. A glass of milk after a 
 hard day's work in Court refreshes me. I never touch wine 
 except at a dinner, and then I only take a little." 
 
 Sitting down together when Mr. Jones had again left
 
 4C0 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 US, I opened my business to the Serjeant as concisely as 
 possible. He listened attentively, but made no remark 
 until the end. 
 
 " Xow go over it all again, Charles." 
 
 I did so : and this second time I was repeatedly inter- 
 rupted by remarks or questions. After that we discussed 
 the case. 
 
 " I cannot see any reason why yon should not take up 
 the matter," he said, when he had given it a little silent 
 consideration. " I do not look upon it quite as you do ; 
 I think you have formed a wrong judgment. It is intricate 
 at present ; I grant you that ; but if you proceed in the 
 manner I have suggested, you will unravel it." 
 
 "Uncle Stilliugfar, I can never sufficiently thank you 
 for all your kindness to me, now and ever." 
 
 " Were you so full of anxiety over this case ? " he asked, 
 as we were shaking hands, and T was about to leave. 
 "You look as though you had a weight of it on your 
 brow." 
 
 " And so I have ; but not about this case. Something 
 nearer home. Perhaps 1 had better not tell you." 
 
 " I understand," he slowly said. " Tom Heriot. Why 
 does he not get away ? " 
 
 " He is too ill at present : confined to his room and bis 
 bed. Of course, he doss not run quite so great a risk as 
 he did when he persisted in parading the streets, but danger 
 is almost imminent." 
 
 " He ought to end the danger by getting away. Very 
 ill, is he ? " 
 
 " So ill that I think danger will soon be at an end in 
 another way ; it certainly will be unless he rallies." 
 
 " What is the matter with him ? " 
 
 " I cannot help fearing that consumption has set in." 
 
 "Poor fellow ! Oh, how that fine young man has spoilt
 
 WITH MR. JONES. 401 
 
 liis life ! Consumption ? — Wait a bit — let mc think," broke 
 off the Serjeant. " Why, yes, I remember now ; it was 
 consumption that Colonel Ilcriot's first wife died of — 
 Tom's mother." 
 
 " Tom said so the last time I saw him." 
 
 "Ah I He knows it, then. Better not see him too often, 
 Charles. You are running a risk yourself, as you must l)e 
 aware." 
 
 "Yes ; I know I am. It is altogether a trouble. Good- 
 day, uncle." 
 
 I shook hands with Jones as I passed through his room, 
 and ran downstairs, feeling all the better for my interview 
 with him and with his patron, Mr. Serjeant Slillingfar. 
 
 S :)
 
 402 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRAJTGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 
 
 The drawing-room floor at Leunard's made very comfort- 
 able quarters for Tom Heriot, and his removal had been 
 accomplished without difficulty. Mrs. Lennard, a patient, 
 mild, weak woman, who could never have been strong- 
 minded, made him an excellent nurse, her more practical 
 and very capable daughter, Charlotte, aiding her when 
 necessary. 
 
 A safer refuge could not have been found in London. 
 The Lennards Avere so often under a cloud themselves as 
 regarded pecuniary matters, so beset at times by their 
 unwelcome creditors — the butcher, l)akcr and grocer — that 
 the chain of their front door was kept haljitually fastened, 
 and no one was admitted within its portals without being 
 first of all subjected to a comprehensive survey. Had some 
 kind friend made a rush to the perambulating constable of 
 the district, to inform him that the domicile of those 
 Lennards was again in a state of siege, he would simply 
 have speculated upon whether the enemy was this time 
 the landlord or the Queen's taxes. It chanced to be 
 neither ; l)ut it was well for the besieged to favour the 
 impression that it was one or the other, or both. Police-' 
 men do not wage war with unfortunate debtors, and 
 Lennard's house was as safe as a remote castle. 
 
 " Mr. Brown " was Tom's name in the household, none
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 403 
 
 of them witli the exception of its master, having any idea 
 that it was not his true name. *' One of the gentlemen 
 clerks in Essex Street, who has no home in London ; I 
 have midertakeu to receive him while he is ill," Lennard 
 had carelessly remarked to his wife and daughters before 
 introducing Tom. They had unsuspecting minds, except 
 as regarded their own creditors, those ladies — ladies always, 
 though fallen from their former state — and never questioned 
 the statement, or felt surprised that Mr. Strange himself 
 took an interest in his clerk's illness, and now and then 
 paid him an evening visit. The doctor who was called in, 
 a hard-worked practitioner named Purfleet, did his best for 
 "Mr. Brown," but had no time to spare for curiosity al)0Ut 
 him in any other way, or to give so much as a thought to 
 his antecedents. 
 
 And just at first, after being settled at Lennard's, Tom 
 Heriot seemed to take a turn for the better. The comfort- 
 able rooms, the care given to him, the strengthening diet, 
 and perhaps a feeling that he was in a safer asylum than 
 he had yet found, all had their effect upon him for good. 
 * * * * * 
 
 " Hatch ! " called out Mi's. Briohtman. 
 
 Hatch ran in from the next room. " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Let Perry go and tell the gardener to cut some of his 
 best grapes and arrange them in a basket. I shall go up 
 to Essex Street and see my daughter this afternoon, and 
 will take them to her. Order the carriage for half-paSt 
 two o'clock." 
 
 " Miss Annabel will be finely pleased to see you, ma'am ! " 
 remarked Hatch. 
 
 '* Possibly so. But she is no longer Miss Annabel. Go 
 and see about the grapes." 
 
 When Mrs. Brightman's tones were cold and haughtv, 
 and they sounded especially so just now, she brooked no
 
 404 THE STORY OP CHAPtLES STRANGE. 
 
 dilatoriness in those wlio had to obey her behests. 
 Hatch turned away immediately, and went along talking 
 to herself. 
 
 " She's getting cross and restless again. I'm certain of 
 it. In a week's time from this we shall have her as bad as 
 ever. And for ever so many weeks now she has been as 
 cautious and sober as a judge ! Doctors may well call it a 
 disease when it comes to this stage with people. Perry ! " 
 
 The butler, passing along the hall, heard Hatch's call, 
 "and stopped. She gave her cap-strings a fling backwards 
 as she advanced to him. 
 
 *' You are to go and tell Church to cut a Ixiskct of grapes, 
 the very best and ripest that is in the greenhouse, for 
 J\Iiss Annabel." 
 
 " I'll go at once," answered Perry. " But you need nut 
 snap a man's nose off, Hatch, or look as if you were going 
 to eat him. What has put you out "i " 
 
 "Enough has put me out ; and you might know that, if 
 you had any sense," retorted Hatch. "When do I snap 
 people's noses off — which it's my tone, I take it, that you 
 mean — except I'm that bothered and worried I can't speak 
 pleasant ? " 
 
 " Well, what's amiss ? " asked Perry. 
 
 Hatch lowered her voice to a whisper. " The missis is 
 going off again ; I be certain sure of it." 
 
 " Impossible ! " cried Perry, full of dismay. " But, look 
 here. Hatch " — suddenly diving into one of his pockets — 
 " she can't have done it ; here's the cellar-key. I can be 
 upon my word there's not a drain of anything out." 
 
 " You always did have the brains of a turkey, you know, 
 Peny," was Hatch's gracious rejoinder ; " and I'm tired 
 of reminding you of it. Who said missis had took any- 
 thing ? Not me. She haven't — yet. As yon observe, 
 there's uothiug up for her to take. But she'll be ordering
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 405 
 
 you to bring something up before to-morrow's over ; perhaps 
 before to-day is." 
 
 " Deary me ! " lamented the faithful servant. " Don't 
 you think you may be mistaken, Hatch ? What do you 
 judge by ? " 
 
 " I judge by herself. I've not lived with my missis all 
 these years without learning to notice signs and tokens. 
 Her manner to-day and her restlessness is just as plain as 
 the sun in the sky. I know what it means, and you'll 
 know it too, as soon as she gives you her orders to unlock 
 the cellar. But I think there's one thing we might try, 
 Perry, and that is, run round to Mr, Close and tell him 
 about it. Perhaps he could give her something to stop 
 the craving." 
 
 " I'll go," said Perry. " I'll slip round when I've tol<l 
 Church about the grapes." 
 
 " And the carriage is ordered early — half -past two ; so 
 mind you are in readiness," concluded Hatch. 
 
 Perry went to the surgeon's, after delivering his orders 
 to the gardener. P>ut Mr. Close was not at home, and the 
 man came away again without leaving any message ; he did 
 not choose to enter upon the subject with Mr. Dunn, the 
 assistant. The latter inquired who was ill, and Perry 
 replied that nobody was ; he had only come to speak a 
 private word to Mr. Close, which could wait. In point of 
 fact, he meant to call later. 
 
 But the curiosity of Mr. Dunn, who was a very inquisitive 
 young man, fonder of attending to other people's business 
 than of doing his own, had been aroused by this. He 
 considered Perry's manner mysterious, as well as the 
 suppression of the message, and he enlarged upon the 
 account to Mr. Close when he came in. Mr. Close made 
 no particular rejoinder ; but in his own mind he felt little 
 doubt that Mrs. Brightman was breaking out again, and
 
 406 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 determined to go and see her when he had had hia 
 dinner. 
 
 Perry returned home, and waited on his mistress at 
 hmcheon, quaking inwardly all the time, as he subsequently 
 confessed to Hatch, lest she should ask him for something 
 that was not upon the table. However, she did not do so ; 
 tut she was very restless, as Perry observed ; ate little, 
 drank no water, and told Perry to bring her a cup of coffee. 
 At half-past two the carriage stood at the gate, the 
 silver on the horses' harness glittering in the sunshine. 
 Quickly enough appeared the procession from the hoiLse. 
 Mrs. Brightman, upright and impassive, walking with 
 stately step ; Hatch, a shawl or two upon her arm, holding 
 an umbrella over her mistress to shade her from the sun ; 
 Perry in the background, carrying the basket of grapes. 
 Perry would attend his mistress in her drive, as usual, but 
 not Hatch. 
 
 The servants were placing the shawls and the grapes in 
 the carriage, and IMrs. Brightman, who hated anything to 
 be done after she had taken her seat, was waiting to enter 
 it, when ]\[r. Close, the surgeon, came bustling up. 
 
 " Going for a drive this fine day ! " he exclaimed, as he 
 shook hands with Mrs. Brightman. "I'm glad of that. 
 I had been thinking that perhaps you were not well." 
 " Why should you think so ? " asked she. 
 " Well, Perry was round at my place this morning, and 
 
 left a message that he wanted to see me. I " 
 
 'Mv. Close suppressed the remainder of his speech as his 
 gaze suddenly fell on Perry's startled face. The man had 
 turned from the carriage, and was looking at him in helpless 
 terror. A faithful retainer was Perry, an honest butler ; 
 but at a pinch his brains were no better than what Hatch 
 had compared them to— those of a turkey. 
 
 Mrs. Brightman, her countenance taking its very
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 407 
 
 liangliticst expression, gazed first at the doctor, then at 
 Perry, as if demanding what this might mean ; possibly, 
 poor lady, she had a suspicion of it. But Hatch, ready 
 Hatch, was equal to the occasion : site never lost her 
 presence of mind. 
 
 " I told Perry he might just as well have asked young 
 Mr. Dunn for 'em, when he came back without the drops," 
 said she, facing the surgeon and speaking carelessly. " Your 
 not being in didn't matter. It was some cough-drops I 
 sent him for ; the same as those you've let us have before, 
 Mr. Close. Our cook's cough is that bad, she can't sleep 
 at night, nor let anybody else sleep that's within earshot of 
 her room." 
 
 " "Well, I came round in a hurry, thinking some of you 
 might be suffering from this complaint that's going about," 
 said Mr. Close, taking up the hint in an easy manner. 
 
 " That there spadical cholera," assented Hatch, 
 
 " Cholera ! It's not cholera. There's nothing of that 
 sort about," said the surgeon. " But there's a good bit of 
 influenza ; I have half a dozen patients suffering from it. 
 A spell of bright weather such as this, though, will soon 
 drive it away. And I'll send you some of the drops when 
 I get back, Hatch." 
 
 Mrs. Brightman advanced to the carriage ; the surgeon 
 was at hand to assist her in. Perry stood on the other side 
 his mistress. Hatch had retreated to the gate and was 
 looking on. 
 
 Suddenly an unearthly yell startled their cars. A fierce- 
 looking bull had dashed beliind the carriage on to the foot- 
 path, and set up a terrible roar. ]\Ir. Close looked round, 
 Perry did the same ; whilst jMrs. Brightman, in the very 
 act of getting into her carriage, and whose nerves were 
 more sensitive than theirs, turned sharply round also and 
 screamed.
 
 408 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 Again Hatch came to the rescue. She had closed the 
 umbrella and lodged it against the pillar of the gate, for 
 here they were under the shade of trees. Seizing the 
 umbrella now, she opened it with a great dash and noise, 
 and rushed towards the bull, pointing it menacingly. The 
 animal, no doubt more startled than they were, tore away 
 and gained the high-road again. Then every one had leisure 
 to see that Mrs. Brightmau was lying on the ground partly 
 under the carriage. 
 
 She must have fallen in turning round, partly from fright, 
 partly from the moving of the carriage. The horses had 
 also been somewhat startled ])y tlie noise, and one of 
 them began to prance. The coachman had his horses well 
 in hand, and soon quieted them ; but he had not been able 
 to prevent the movement, which had no doubt chiefly caused 
 his mistress to fall. 
 
 They quickly drew her from under the carriage and 
 attempted to raise her ; but she cried out in such tones of 
 agony that the surgeon feared she was seriously injured. 
 As soon as possible she was conveyed indoors on a mattress. 
 
 Another surgeon joined ]\Ir. Close, and it was found that 
 her leg was broken near the ankle. 
 
 When it had been set and the commotion was subsiding, 
 l^erry was despatched to Essex Street with the carriage to 
 l)ring back Annabel. 
 
 " What did you really come to my surgery for, Perry ? " 
 Mr. Close took an opportunity of asking before he 
 started. 
 
 " It was al)out my mistress, sir," answered the man. 
 " By signs and tokens IIat<^'h felt sure tliat ]\[rs. Brightman 
 was going to be ill again. She sent me to tell you, sir, and 
 to ask if yon couldn't give her sometliing to stop it." 
 
 " Ah, I thought as much. But when I saw you all out 
 there, your mistress looking as well as possit'le and about
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 409 
 
 to take a drive, I couclucled I had been mistaken," said the 
 surgeon. 
 
 I had run upstairs during the afternoon to ask a question 
 of Annahel, and was standing beside her at the drawing- 
 room window, where she sat doing some fine embroidery, 
 when a carriage came swiftly down the street, and stop^icd 
 at the door. 
 
 " Why, it is mamma's ! " exclaimed Annabel, looking 
 out. 
 
 " But I don't see her in it," I rejoined. 
 
 " Oh, she must be in it, Charles. Perry is on the box." 
 
 Perry was getting down, but was not quite so quick in 
 his movements as a slim young footman would be. He 
 rang the bell, and I was fetched down to him. In two 
 minutes afterwards I had disclosed the news to my wife, 
 and brought Perry up that she might herself question 
 him. 
 
 Much agitated, but without losing a moment, Annabel 
 went back in the carriage, and I promised to follow her 
 as early in the evening as I could get away. Relying upon 
 the butler's assurance that Mrs. P>rightman was not in the 
 slightest danger ; that, on the contrary, it would be an 
 illness of weeks, if not of months ; there was no necessity 
 for accompanying Annabel at an inconvenient moment. 
 
 " It is, in one sense, the luckiest thing that could have 
 happened to her," Mr. Close remarked to me that evening 
 when we were conversing together. 
 
 " How do you mean ? " 
 
 " "Well, she mmt be under control now," ho answered in 
 significant tones, "and we were fearina* onlv to-dav, that 
 she was on the point of breaking down again. A long spell 
 of enforced abstinence, such as this, many effect wonders." 
 
 Of course, looking at it in that light, the accident nu'ght
 
 410 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 be called fortunate. " There's a silver lining to every 
 cloud." ■ 
 
 Annabel took up her abode temporarily at her mother's : 
 Mrs. Brightman requesting it. I went down there of an 
 evening — though not every evening — returning to Essex 
 Street in the morning. Tom's increasing illness kept me 
 in town occasionally, for I could not help going to see him, 
 and he was growing weaker day by day. The closing 
 features of consumption were gaining upon him rapidly. 
 To add to our difficulties, Mr. Constable Wren, Avho seemed 
 to follow Tom's changes of domicile in a very ominous and 
 remarkable manner, had now transferred his beat from 
 Southwark, and might be seen pacing before Lennard's door 
 half a dozen times a day. 
 
 One morning when I had come up from Clapham and 
 was seated in my own room opening letters, Lennard entered, 
 closing the door with a quiet, cautious movement. 
 
 "Anything particular, Lennard ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I've brought rather bad news," he said. 
 " Captain Heriot is worse." 
 
 " Worse in \vhat way ? But he is not Captain Heriot, 
 Lennard ; he is Mr. Brown. Be careful." 
 
 " We cannot be overheard here," answered Lennard, 
 "He. appeared so weak last night that I thought I would 
 sit up with him for an hour or two, and then lie down on 
 his sofa for the rest of the night. About five o'clock this 
 morning he had a violent fit of coughing and broke a blood- 
 vessel." 
 
 " What did you do ? " 
 
 " I know a little of the treatment of such cases, and we 
 got the doctor to him as soon as possible. Mr. Purfleet does 
 not give the slightest hope now. In fact, he thinks that 
 a very few days more will bring the ending." 
 
 I sat back in my chair. Poor Tom ! Poor Tom I
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 411 
 
 " It is the best for him, Mr. Strange," spoke Lennard, 
 with some emotion. " Better, infinitely, tlian that of which 
 he has been running the risk. When a man's hfe is marred 
 as he has marred his, heaven must seem as a haven of refuge 
 to him." 
 
 " Has he any idea of his critical state ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and, I feel sure, is quite reconciled to it. He 
 remarked this morning how much he should like to see 
 Blanche : meaning, I presume. Lady Level." 
 
 " Ah, but there are difficulties in the way, Lennard. 
 I will come to him myself, but not until evening. There's 
 no immediate danger, you tell me, and I do not care to be 
 seen entering your house during the day. The wily 
 policeman might be on the watch, and ask me what I 
 wanted there." 
 
 Lennard left the room and I returned to my letters. 
 The next I took up was a note from Blanche. Lord 
 Level was not i/et back from Marshdale, she told me ; kept 
 writing miserable scraps of notes in which he put her off 
 with excuses from day to day, always assuring her he hoped 
 to be up on the morrow. But she could see she was being 
 played with ; and the patience which, in obedience to me 
 and Major Carlen, she had been exercising, was very nearly 
 exhausted. She wrote this, she concluded by saying, to 
 warn me that it was so. 
 
 Truth to say, I did wonder what was keeping Level at 
 Marshdale. He had been there more than a week now.
 
 412 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 LAST DAYS. 
 
 Tom Heriot lay on the sofa in his bedroom, the firelight 
 playing- on his faded features. This, Monday, was the third 
 day since the attack spoken of by Lennard, and there had 
 been no return of it. His voice was stronger this evenino- • 
 he seemed better altogether, and was jesting, as he loved to 
 do. Leah had been to see him during the day, and he 
 was recounting one or two of their passages-at-arms, with 
 much glee. 
 
 " Charley, old fellow, you look as solemn as a judge." 
 
 Most likely I diJ. I sat on the other side the hearthrug, 
 gazing as I listened to him ; and thought I saw in his face 
 the grayness tliat frequently precedes death 
 
 " Did you know that that giant of the force, Wren, had 
 his eye upon me, Charley ? " 
 
 " No ! "Why do you say so ? " 
 
 *' Well, I think he has — a suspicion, at any rate. He 
 parades before the house like a walking ap])arition, and I 
 look at him from behind the curtains in the otlier room. 
 He paraded in like manner, you know, before that house 
 in Southwark and the other house in T;ambeth." 
 
 " It may be only a coincidence, Tom. The police are 
 moved about a good deal from beat to beat, I fancy." 
 
 " Perhaps so," assented Tom, carelessly. " If he came in
 
 LAST DAYS. 413 
 
 and took mc, I don't think lie coiikl do mucli with me now. 
 He stopped Purfleet to-day." 
 
 " What for ? " 
 
 " After his morning visit to me, he went dashing ont of 
 the street-door in his usnal quick way, and dashed against 
 Wren. One might think a regiment of soldiers were 
 always waiting to have their legs and arms cut off, and 
 that Purfleet had to do it siuglehauded, hy the way he 
 rushes about," concluded Tom. 
 
 " AVell ? " 
 
 " ' In a hurry this morning, doctor,' says old AVren, who 
 is uncommonly fond of hearing himself talk, . ' And who 
 is ill at Mr. Lennard's ? ' 'I generally aui in a hurry,' 
 says Purfleet, 'and so would you be if you hud many sick 
 people on your hands. At Lennard's ? Why, that poor 
 suffering daughter of his has had another attack, and I 
 don't know whether I shall save her.' And, with that, 
 Purfleet got away. He related this to mc Avhen he came 
 in at tea-time." 
 
 " But, Tom, does Purfleet know that you are in conceal- 
 ment here ? Or why should he have put his visits to you 
 upon Maria Tjcnnard ? " 
 
 " Why, Charley, how could he be off knowing it ? 
 Lcnnard asked him at first, as a matter of precaution, not 
 to speak of me in the neiglibourhood. Mr. Brown was 
 rather under a cloud just now, he said. I wouldn't mind 
 betting a silver sixpence that he knows I am Tom Heriot." 
 
 I wondered whether Tom was joking. 
 
 " Likely enough," went on Tom. " He knows that you 
 come to see me, and that you are Charles Strange, of 
 Essex Street. And he has heard, I'll lay, that Mr. Strange 
 had a wicked sort of half-brother, one Captain Heriot, who 
 fell into the fetters of the law and escaped them, and — 
 and may be the very jMr. Brown who's lying ill here.
 
 414 THE STORY OF CHAllLES STRANGE. 
 
 Purfleet can put two and two together as cleverly as otlier 
 people, Charley. But," continued Tom, " he'd no more 
 "betray me than he'd betray himself. Doctors don't divulge 
 the secrets of their patients ; they keep them. It is a point 
 of honour in the medical code : as well as of self-interest. 
 If no more harm reaches me than any brought about by 
 Purfleet, I am safe enough." 
 
 At that moment Mrs. Leunard came in with something 
 in a breaMast-cup. "You are a good lady," said Tom, 
 gratefully. " See how they feed me up, Charley ! " 
 
 But for the hollow tones, the hectic flush and the 
 brilliant eyes, it might almost have been thought he was 
 getting better. His cough had nearly left him, and the 
 weakness was not more apparent than it had been for a 
 week past. But that faint, dee\^, far-a/rai/ sounding voice, 
 which had now come on, told the truth. The close was 
 near at hand. 
 
 After Mrs. Lenuard had left the room with the empty 
 cup, Tom lay back on the sofa, put his head on the pillow, 
 and in a minute or two seemed to be asleep. Presently I 
 moved gently across the hearthrug to fold the warm, light 
 quilt upon his knees. He opened his eyes. 
 
 " You need not creep, Charley. I am not asleep. I had 
 a regular good sleep in the afternoon, and don't feel 
 inclined for it now. I was thinking about the funeral." 
 
 " Funeral 1 " I echoed, in astonishment. " Whose 
 funeral ? " 
 
 " Mine. They won't care to lay me beside my mother, 
 will they ? — I mean my own mother. I'hc World might 
 put its inquisitive word in, and say that must be Tom 
 Heriot, the felon. Neither you nor Level would like that, 
 nor old Carlen either." 
 
 I made no answer, uncertain what to say. 
 
 " Yet I should like to lie near her," he IVeut on.
 
 LAST DAYS. ilH 
 
 "There was a large vault made, -when she died, to hold 
 the three of ns— herself, my father and me. They arc 
 both in it ; and I should like to be placed with them." 
 
 " Time enough to think of that, Tom, when— when — 
 the time comes," I stammered. 
 
 " The time's not far off now, Charley." 
 
 " Two nights ago, when I was here, you assured me you 
 were getting better." 
 
 " Well, I thought I might l)e ; there are such ups and 
 downs in a man's state. He will appear sick unto death 
 to-day, and to-morrow be driving down to a whitebait 
 dinner at Greenwich. I've changed my opinion, Charley; 
 I've had my warning." 
 
 " Had your warning ! What does that mean ? " 
 
 " I should like to see Blanche," he whispered. " Dear 
 little Blanche I How I used to tease her in our young 
 days, and Leah would box my ears for it ; and I teased 
 you also, Charley. Could you not bring her here, if Level 
 would let her come ? " 
 
 "Tom, I hardly know. For one thing, she has not 
 heard anything of the past trouble, as you are aware. She 
 thinks of you as in India with your regiment, and calls you 
 a very undutif ul brother for not writing to her. I suppose 
 it might be managed." 
 
 " Dear little Blanche ! " he repeated. " Yes, I teased 
 her — and loved her all the time. Just one visit, Charley. 
 It will be the last until we meet upon the eternal shores. 
 Try and contrive it." 
 
 I sat thinking how it might be done — the revelation to 
 Blanche, bringing her to the house, obtaining the consent 
 of Lord Level t for I could not stir in it without his 
 consent. Tom appeared to be thinking also, and a silence 
 ensued. It was he who broke it. 
 
 " Charles ! '*
 
 416 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " Yes ?" 
 
 " Do you ever recall events that passed iu our old life at 
 White Littleham Rectory ? do any of them lie iu your 
 memory ? " 
 
 " I think they all do," I answered. " My memory is, 
 you know, a remarkably good one." 
 
 " Ay," said Tom. Then paused again. " Do you 
 recollect that especial incident when your father told us 
 al)out his dream ? " he continued j^resently. " I picture 
 the scene now ; it has been present to my mind all day. A 
 frosty winter morning, icicles on the trees and frosty 
 devices on the window-panes. You and I and your father 
 seated round the breakfast-table ; Leah pouring out the 
 coffee and cutting bread and butter for us. He appeared to 
 be in deep thought, and when I remarked upon it, and you 
 asked him what he thinking about, he said his dream. Do 
 you remember } "f 
 
 "I do. The thing made an impression on me. The 
 scene is as clear to me now as though it had happened 
 yesterday. Penthorn, the doctor, came in whilst he was 
 telling us about it. 
 
 " He had gone to bed iu the best of health, probably 
 concocting matter for next Sunday's sermon," resumed 
 Tom, recalling the facts. " Suddenly, he awoke at the 
 sound of a voice ; his late wife's voice ; your mother, 
 Charley. He was wide awake on the instant, and knew 
 the voice for hers ; she appeared to be standing at the 
 bedside. He never said he saw her, but the impression 
 was upon him that a figure stood there, and that after 
 speaking it retreated towards the window. He got up and 
 struck a light and fout.d the room empty, no trace of any 
 one's having been in it. Nevertheless he could not get 
 rid of the belief, though not a superstitious man, that it 
 was his wife who came to him. rcnthoni rather ridiculed
 
 LAST DAYS. 417 
 
 trhe matter ; sayiug it was uotliiny but a dream. I dou't 
 think it made mncli impression njion your fatlier, except 
 that it puzzled him." 
 
 " I don't think it did," I assented, my thoughts all in 
 the past. "As you observe, Tom, he was not super- 
 stitious ; had no particular belief in the supernatural." 
 
 " Xo ; it faded from our minds with the day— Leah's 
 jierhaps excepted. But what was the result ? On the 
 fourth night afterwards he died. The dream occurred on 
 the Friday morning a little before three o'clock ; your 
 father looked at his watch when he got out of bed and saw 
 that it wanted a quarter to three. On Tuesday morning at 
 a quarter to three he died in his study, into which he had 
 been carried after his accident." 
 
 All true. The circumstances, to me, were painful even 
 still. 
 
 " "Well, what do you make of it, Charles ? " 
 
 " Nothing. But I don't quite see the drift of all this." 
 
 " Do yon think his wife really came to him ? — that she 
 was permitted to come back to earth to warn him of his 
 approaching death ? " 
 
 " I have always believed that, and can hardly see how 
 any one could doubt it." 
 
 " "Well, Charley, I doubted. I was graceless and light- 
 headed, you know, and serious things made no impression 
 on me. If I thought about it at all, it was to put it down 
 to fancy ; or a dream, as Penthorn said ; and I don't 
 believe I've ever even thought of it from that time to 
 this." 
 
 ""Why should it come back to you now ? " I asked. 
 
 "Because," answered Tom, "I think I have had a 
 similar warnino-." 
 
 He spoke very calmly. I looked at him. He was sitting 
 upright on the sofa now, his feet stretched out on a stool, 
 
 •2 E
 
 418 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 the quilt lying across his knees, and his hands resting 
 I upon it. 
 
 " What can jou mean, Tom ? " 
 
 " It was last night," he answered ; " or rather, this 
 morning. I was in bed, and pretty soundly asleep. 
 Suddenly I thought I saw my father come in thi'ough the 
 door, opening to the passage, cross the room, and sit down 
 by the bedside with his face turned to me. I mean my 
 own father, Colonel Heriot. He looked just as he used to 
 look ; not a day older ; his fine figure erect, his bright, 
 wavy hair brushed off his brow as he always wore it, his 
 bhie eyes smiling and kindly. I was not in the least 
 surprised to see him ; his coming in seemed to be quite 
 a matter of course. ' "Well, Tom,' he began, looking at me 
 after he had sat down ; ' we have been parted for some 
 time, and I have much to say to you.' ' Say it now, father,' 
 I answered. ' Not now,' he replied ; * we must wait a little 
 yet ; but it won't be long, Thomas.' Then I saw him rise 
 from the chair, re-cross the room to the door, turn to look 
 at me with a smile, and go out, leaving the door open. I 
 awoke at the very moment, I am certain ; and for some 
 time could not persuade myself that what had passed was 
 not reality. The chair in which he had sat stood at the 
 bedside, and the door ^\■as wide open." 
 
 *' But I suppose the chair had been there all night, and 
 that some one was sitting up with you ? Whoever it was 
 must have opened the door." 
 
 "The chair had been there all night," assented Tom. 
 " But the door had not been opened by human hands, so far 
 as I can learn. It was old Faith's turn to sit up last night 
 — that worthy old soul who has clung to the Lcnnards 
 through all their misfortunes. Finding that I slejjt com- 
 fortal)ly. Faith had fallen asleep too in the big chair in that 
 corner behind you. She declared that the door had been
 
 LAST DAYS. * 419 
 
 firmly closed — and I believe she thought It was I who had 
 got up and opened it." 
 
 " It was a dream, Tom." 
 
 *' Granted. But it Avas a warning also. It came— nay, 
 who can say it was not he. who came ? — to tell me that I 
 shall soon he with him. We shall have time and to spare 
 to talk then. I have never had so vivid a dream in my 
 life, or one that so left behind it so real an impression. I 
 had partly forgotten my father's appearance ; I was only a 
 little fellow Avhen he died ; but his visit to me in my 
 dream last night has brought it back most vividly. Come, 
 you wise old lawyer, what do you say to that ? " 
 
 " I don't know, Tom. Such things are, I suppose." 
 
 *' If I got well and lived to be a hundred, I should never 
 laugh at them again." 
 
 *' Tom, it may be nothing l)ut a dream after all. You 
 must not let this trouble you." 
 
 " It does not trouble me," he answered quickly. " Rather 
 the contrary, for it sets my mind at rest. I have had little 
 hope of myself for some time past ; I have had none, so to 
 say, since that sudden attack a few nights ago ; neverthe- 
 less, I won't say but a grain of it may have still deluded 
 me now and again. Hope is the last thing we part with in 
 this world, you know. But this dreaui-visit has shown me 
 the truth beyond all doubt ; and now I have only to make 
 my packet, as the French say, and wait for the signal to 
 start." 
 
 We talked together a little longer, but my time was up. 
 I left him for the night and apparently in the best of 
 spirits. 
 
 I went straight home to Essex Street, and sat down to 
 write to Lord Le\'cl. He would not receive the letter at 
 Marshdale until the following afternoon, but it Avould be in 
 time for him to answer me by the evening post.
 
 420 THE STORY OF CHAELES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIY. 
 
 LAST WORDS. 
 
 The next day, Tuesday, I was very busy, hunying forward 
 to get down to Claphani in time for dinner in the evening. 
 Lennard's morning report had been that Captain Heriot 
 was no worse, and that Purfieet, who had paid him an early 
 visit, said there might be no change for a week or more. 
 
 In the afternoon I received a brief note from Serjeant 
 Stillingfar, asking me to be in RusseU Square the following 
 morning by eight o'clock : he particularly wished to see me. 
 
 Knowing that Avhen he named any special hour he meant 
 it, and that he expected every one who had dealings with 
 him to be as punctual as himself, I came up to town on the 
 Wednesday morning, and was at his house a few minutes 
 before eight o'clock. The Serjeant was just sitting down 
 to breakfast. 
 
 " How is Mrs. Brightman going on ? " was his firat 
 question after I had sat down. 
 
 " Quite well. It will be a long job, the doctors say, from 
 something unusual connected with the fracture, but nothing 
 dangerous." 
 
 " And now tell me at once. Is Captain Heriot," lower- 
 ing his voice, " in a state to be got away ? " 
 
 The words did not surprise me. The whole night it had 
 been in my mind that the Serjeant's mandate concerned 
 Tom Heriot,
 
 LAST WORDS. 421 
 
 " No ; it would be impossible," I answered. " He has to 
 be moved gently, from bed to sofa, and can only walk, if he 
 attempts it at all, by being helped on both sides. Three or 
 four days ago a vessel on the lungs broke ; any undue 
 exertion would at once be fatal." 
 
 " Then do I understand you that he is actually dying ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly he is, sir. I was with him on Monday 
 night, and saw in his face the gray hue which is the pre- 
 cursor of death. I am sure I was not mistaken " 
 
 "That peculiar hue can never be mistaken by those 
 who have learnt it from sad experience," he interrupted 
 dreamily. 
 
 " He may linger on a few days, even a week or so, I 
 believe the doctor thinks, but death is certainly on its road ; 
 and he must die where he is, Uncle Stillingfar. He cannot 
 be again moved." 
 
 The Serjeant sat silent fur a few moments. " It is very 
 unfortunate," he resumed. " Could he have been got away 
 it would be better for him— better for you all. Tliough in 
 truth it is not I who ought to suggest it, as you well know ; 
 but sometimes one's private and public dul-ies oppose each 
 other." 
 
 " Have you heard anything, uncle ? " 
 
 " I have heard from a sure source that the authorities 
 know Captain Heriot to be in London. They know it 
 positively : but not where he is concealed. The search will 
 now commenc3 in earnest." 
 
 " It is indeed unfortunate. I have been hoping he would 
 be left to die in peace. One thing is certain : if the police 
 fmd him they can only let him remain where he is. They 
 cannot remove him." 
 
 "Then nothing can be done: things must take their 
 course," sighed the Serjeant. " You must take precautions 
 yourself, Charles, Most probably the movements of those
 
 422 THE STOEY OF CHAELES STRANGE. 
 
 connected with him will now be watched, in the hope thai 
 they may afford a clue to his hiding-place." 
 
 " I cannot abandon him, Uncle Stilhngfar. I mnst see 
 liim to the end. We have been as brothers, yon know. He 
 wants to see Blanche, and I have written about it to Lord 
 Level." 
 
 " A7ell, well, I cannot advise ; I wish I could," he replied. 
 " But I thought it my duty to let you know this." 
 
 " A few days will in any case see the ending," I said, as I 
 bade hiin good-bye. "Thank you for all your sympathy, 
 uncle." 
 
 " My boy, there is One above," raising his hand reverently, 
 *' who has more pity for us than we have for one another. 
 He can keep him in peace yet. Don't forget that, 
 Charles." 
 
 To my office then and the morning letters. Amidst 
 them lay Lord Level's answer. Some of its contents 
 surprised me. 
 
 " Marshdale House, 
 
 " Tuesday Evening. 
 
 "Dear Charles, 
 
 " If you like to undertake the arrangement of the 
 visit you propose, do so. I have no objection. For some 
 little time now I have thought it might be better that my 
 wife should know the truth. You see she is, and has been, 
 liable to hear it at any moment through some untoward 
 revelation, for which she would not be prepared ; and the 
 care I have taken to avoid this has not only been sometimes 
 inconvenient to myself, but misconstrued by Blanche. 
 When we were moving about after our marriage, I kept her 
 in unfrequented places, as far as I could, to sjiare her the 
 chance of this ; men's lips were full of it Just then, as you 
 know. Blanche resented that bitterly, putting it all down 
 to some curious purposes of my own. Let her hear the truth
 
 LAST WOUBS. 423 
 
 now. I am not on the spot to impart it to Ler myself, and 
 shall he glad if you will do so. Afterwards you can take her 
 to see the invalid. I am sorry for what you say as to his 
 state. Tell him so, and that he has my sympathy and heat 
 wishes. 
 
 " Blanche has been favouring me lately with some letters 
 wi'itten in anything but a complimentary strain. One that 
 I received this morning coolly informs me that she is about 
 to ' Take immediate steps to obtain a formal sejiaration, if 
 not a divorce.' I am not able to travel to London and 
 settle things with her, and have written to her to tell her to 
 come here to me. The fact is, I am ill. Strange to say, 
 the same sort of low fever which attacked me when 1 was at 
 Marshdale last autumn has returned upon me now. It is 
 not so bad as it was then, but I am confined to bed. Spare 
 the time to bring Blanche down, there's a good fellow. I 
 have told her that you will do so. Come on Thursday if 
 convenient to you, and remain the night. She shall heay 
 what I have to say to her ; after that, she can talk of a 
 separation if she likes. Yon shall hear it also. 
 
 '' Ever truly yours, 
 
 " Level," 
 
 Whilst deliberating upon the contents of this letter, and 
 how I could best carry out its requests, Lcnnard came in, 
 as usual on his arrival for the day, to give me his report of 
 Tom Heriot. There was not any apparent change in him, 
 he said, either for better or worse. I informed Lennard of 
 what I had just heard from the Serjeant. 
 
 Then I despatched a clerk to Gloucester Place with a 
 note for Blanche, telling her I should be with her early in 
 the evening, and that she must not fail to be at home, as 
 my business was important. 
 
 Twilight was falling when I arrived. Blanche sat at one
 
 424 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRAKGE. 
 
 of the windows in the drawing-room, looking listlessly into 
 the street in the fading light. Old Mrs. Guy, who was 
 staying with her, was lying on the dining-room sofa, 
 Blanche said, having retired to it and fallen asleep after 
 dinner. 
 
 How lovely Blanche looked ; but how fretful ! She wore 
 a pale blue silk, her favourite colour, with a gold necklace 
 and open bracelets, from which dropped a heart set with 
 sapphires and diamonds ; and her fair, silken hair looked 
 as if she had been impatiently pushing it about. 
 
 " I know what you have come for, Charles," she said in 
 peevish tones, as I sat down near her. „" Lord Level 
 prepared me in a letter I received from him this morning." 
 " Indeed ! " I answered lightly. " What did the prepara- 
 tion consist of ? " 
 
 " I wrote to him," said Blanche. " I have written to 
 him more than once, telling him I am about to get a 
 separation. In answer, my lord commands me down to 
 Marshdale " — very resentfully—" and says you are to take 
 me down." 
 
 " All quite right, Blanclie ; quite true, so far. But " 
 
 '*But I don't know that I shall go. I think I shall 
 not go." 
 
 " A wife should obey her husband's commands." 
 " I do not intend to be his wife any longer. And you 
 cannot wish mo to be, Charles ; you ought not to wish it. 
 Lord liCvel's conduct is simply shameful. AVliat right 
 has he to stay at Marshdale— anmsing himself down 
 there ? " 
 
 " I fancy he cannot lielp staying there at present. Has 
 he told you he is ill ? " 
 
 She glanced quickly round at me. 
 " Has he told you that he is so ? " 
 '' Yes, Blanche ; he has. He is too ill to travel."
 
 LAST WORDS. ^23 
 
 She paused for a moment, and then tossed back her pretty 
 hair with a scornful hand. 
 
 " And you beUeved him ! Anything for an excuse. He 
 is no more ill than I am, Charles ; rely upon that." 
 
 " But I am certain " 
 
 " Don't go on," she interrupted, tapping her dainty black 
 satin slipper on the carpet ; a petulant movement to which 
 Blanche was given, even as a child. " If you have come 
 for the purpose of whitening my husband to me, as papa is 
 always doing, I will not listen to you." 
 
 " You will not listen to any sort of reasoning whatever. 
 I see that, my dear." 
 
 " Reasoning, indeed ! " she retorted. " Say sophistry." 
 
 " Listen for an instant, Blanche ; consider this one little 
 item : I believe Lord Level to be ill, confined to his bed 
 with low fever, as he tells me ; you refuse to believe it ; 
 you say he is Avell. Now, considering that he expects us 
 both to be at Marshdalc to-morrow, can you not perceive 
 how ridiculously void of purpose it would be for him to say 
 he is seriously ill if he is not so ? " 
 
 " I don't care," said my young lady. " He is deeper 
 than any cunning old fox." 
 
 *' Blanche, my opinion is, and you arc aware of it, that 
 you misjudge your husband. Upon one or two points I 
 Icnow you do. But I did not come here to discuss these 
 unpleasant topics— you are in error there, you see. I came 
 upon a widely different matter : to disclose something to 
 you that will very greatly distress you, and I am grieved 
 to be obliged to do it." 
 
 The words changed her mood. She looked frightened. 
 
 By degrees, softening the facts as much as possible, I 
 told the tale. Of Tom's apprehension about the time of 
 lier man-iage ; his trial which- followed close upon it ; his 
 conviction and departure for a pcual settlement ; his escape';
 
 426 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 his return to England ; his conceahnents to evade detection ; 
 his ilhiess ; and his present state. Blanche shivered and 
 cried as she listened. 
 
 " And is there no hope for him, Charles ? " she said, after 
 a while. 
 
 "My dear, there is no hope. And, under the circum- 
 stances, it is happier for him to die than to continue to live. 
 But he would like to see you, Blanche." 
 
 " Poor Tom ! Can we go to him now— this evening ? " 
 " Yes ; it is what I came to propose. It is the best time. 
 
 He " 
 
 " Shall I order the carriage ? " 
 
 The interruption made me laugh. My Lord Level's state 
 carriage and powdered servants at that poor fugitive's door 1 
 " My dear, we must go in the quietest manner possible. 
 We will take a cab as we walk along, and get out of it before 
 turning into the street where he is lying. Change this blue 
 silk for one of the plainest dresses that you have, and wear 
 a close bonnet and a veil." 
 
 " Oh, of course ; I see. Charles, I am too thoughtless." 
 "Wait an instant," I said, arresting her as she was 
 crossing the room. " I must return for a moment to our 
 controversy touching your husband. You complained 
 bitterly of him last year for secluding you \\\ dull, remote 
 parts of the Continent, and especially for keeping you away 
 from England. You adopted the idea, and proclaimed it 
 to those who would listen to you, that it was to serve his 
 own purposes. Do you I'cmember this ? " 
 
 " Well ? " said Blanche, timidly, her colour coming and 
 going as she stood with her hands on the table. " He did 
 keep me away ; he did seclude me." 
 
 " It was done out of love for you, Blanche. Whilst your 
 heart felt nothing but reproach for him, his was filled with 
 care and consideration for you ; Avhere to keep you, how to
 
 LAST WORDS. 427 
 
 guard yon from hearing of the disoTace and trouble that 
 had overtakeu your brother. We knew — I and ^Mr. Bright- 
 man — Lord Level's motive ; and ]\ra]or Carlen knew. I 
 believe Level would have given years of his life to save you 
 from the knowledge always and secure you peace. Xow, 
 Blanche, my dear, as you perceive that, at least in that one 
 respect, you misjudged him then, do you not think you 
 may be misjudging him still ? " 
 
 She burst into tears. " Xo, I don't think so," she said. 
 " I wish I could think so. You know that he maintains 
 some dreadful secret at Marshdale ; and that — that — wicked 
 Italians are often staying there — singers perhaps ; I 
 shouldn't wonder ; or ballet-dancers — anyway, people who 
 can have no right and no business to be there. You know 
 that one of them stabbed him — Oh yes, she did, and it was 
 a woman with long hair." 
 
 " I do not know anything of the kind." 
 
 "Charles, you look at me reproachfully, as though the 
 blame lay with me instead of him. Can't you see what a 
 misery it all is for me, and that it is wearing my life 
 away ? " she cried passionately, the tears falhng from her 
 eyes. " I would ratlier die than separate from him, if I 
 were not forced to it by the goings on at that wretched 
 Marshdale. What will life be worth to me, parted from 
 him ? " 
 
 And too much overcome to say more, she left the room 
 to regain self-control and prepare for our visit. 
 
 They sat side by side on the sofa, IManche's fair head 
 pillowed upon his breast, his arm thrown round her. She 
 had taken off her bonnet and mantle, and was crying 
 quietly. 
 
 " Be calm, my dear sister. It is all for the best." 
 
 " Tom, how came you to do it .'' "
 
 428 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " I didn't do it, my dear one. Tliat's where they were 
 mistaken. I should be no more capaljle of doing such a 
 thing than you are." 
 
 " Then why did they condemn you — and say you were 
 guilty ? " 
 
 "They knew no ])etter. The guilty man escaped, and I 
 suffered." 
 
 " But why did you not tell the truth ? Why did yoti not 
 accuse him to the judge ? " 
 
 " I told the judge I was innocent ; but that is what most 
 prisoners say, and it made no impression on him," replied 
 Tom. " For the rest, I did not understand the affair as 
 well as I did after the trial. All had been so hurried ; 
 there was no time for anything. Yes, Blanche, you may at 
 least take this solitary bit of consolation to your heart — 
 that I was not guilty." 
 
 " And that other man, Avho was ? " she asked eagerly, 
 lifting her face. " Where is he ? " 
 
 " Flourishing," said Tom. " Driving about the world 
 four-in-hand, no doubt, and taking some one else in as he 
 took me in." 
 
 Blanche turned to me in distress. 
 
 " Charles, cannot anything be done to expose the man 
 and prove Tom's innocence ? " she cried. Tom spoke 
 again before I could answer. 
 
 " It will not matter to me then, one way or the other. 
 But, Charley, I do sometimes wish, as I lie thinking, that 
 the truth might be made known and ray memory cleared. 
 I was reckless and foolish enough, Heaven knows, but I 
 never did that for which I was tried and sentenced." 
 
 '' One great difficulty would lie, I believe, in the fact you 
 acknowledge, Tom — your own folly. People argue — they 
 argued at the time — that a young man so reckless as you 
 ^vcre would not stick at a trifle,"
 
 LAST WORDS. 429 
 
 " Just so," replied Tom, " I ouglit to have pulled up 
 before, and — I did not. AVell, you know my innocence, 
 and now Blanche knows it, and Level knows it, and old 
 Carlen knows it ; you are about all that are near to me ; 
 and the public must be left to chance. There's one good 
 man, though, I should like to know it, Charles, and that's 
 Serjeant Stillingfar." 
 
 *' He knows it already, Tom. Be at ease on that score." 
 
 " Does lie think, I wonder, that my memory might ever 
 be cleared ? " 
 
 " He thinks you have one chance in your favour. It is 
 this : The man, Anstey, being what he is, will probably fall 
 into some worse crime which cannot be bidden or hushed up. 
 When conviction overtakes him, he may be induced to con- 
 fess that it was he, and not Captain Heriot, who bore the 
 lion's share in that past exploit for which you suffered. 
 Ilely upon this, Tom — should any such chance of clearing 
 your memory present itself, it will not be neglected. I 
 shall be on the watch always." 
 
 There was silence for a time. Tom was leaning back, 
 pale and exhausted, his breath short, his face gray, wan and 
 wasted. 
 
 " Has Leah been to see you ? " Blanche asked him. 
 
 " Yes, twice ; and she considers herself very hardly dealt 
 by that she may not come here to nurse me," he replied. 
 
 " Could she not be here ? " 
 
 I shook my head. " It would not be safe, Blanche. It 
 would be running another risk. You see, trouble would 
 fall upon others as well as on Tom, were he discovered now : 
 upon me, and more especially upon licnnard." 
 
 " They would be brought to trial for concealing me, just 
 as I was brought to trial for a different crime," said Tom 
 lightly. " Our English laws are comprehensive, I assure 
 y,)U, Blanche. Poor Leah says it is cruel not to let her see
 
 430 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 the end. I asked her what pleasure she'd derive from 
 it." 
 
 Blanche gave a sigh. " How can you talk so lightly, 
 Tom ? " 
 
 " Lightly ! " he cried. " I don't myself see very much 
 lightness in that. When the end is at hand, Blanche, why 
 ignore it ? " 
 
 She turned her face again to him, in utmost sorrow. 
 
 " Don't, Blanche ! " he said, his voice trembling. 
 " There's nothing to mourn for ; nothing. My darling 
 sister, can't yon see what a life mine has been for months 
 past : pain of body, distress and a2)prehension of mind ! 
 Think what a glorious change it will be to leave all this for 
 heaven I " 
 
 " Are you sure of going there, dear .? " she whispered. 
 " Have you made your peace ? " 
 
 Tom smiled at her. Tears were in his own eyes. 
 
 " I think so. Do you remember the aus\Yer to the thief 
 on the cross ? The promise came to him on the instant : 
 ' Yerily, I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou lie with Me in 
 Paradise.' He had been aa much of a sinner as I, Blanche." 
 
 Blanche was shedding qniet tears. Tom held her to 
 him. 
 
 " Imagine," he said, " liow the change must have broken 
 on that poor man. To pass from the sorrow and suffering 
 of this life into Paradise I There was no question as to his 
 fitness, you sec, or whether he had been good or bad ; all the 
 sin of the past was condoned when he took his himiblc aj^pcal 
 to his Eedeemer : ' Lord, remember me when Thou comest 
 into Thy kingdom ! ' Blanche, I know tliat He will also 
 remember me."
 
 ( 431 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 DOWX AT MARSHDALE. 
 
 It was Thursday moruing, the day on which Blanche Level 
 was to travel to Marshdale. She sat in her dining-room at 
 Gloucester Place, her fingers busy over some delicate fancy- 
 work, her thoughts divided between the sad interview she 
 had held with Tom Heriot the previous night, and the forth- 
 coming interview with her husband ; whilst her attention 
 was partially given to old Mrs. Guy, who sat in an easy- 
 chair by the fire, a thick plaid shawl on her shoulders and 
 her feet on the fender, recounting the history of an extra- 
 ordinary pain which had attacked her in the night. But as 
 Mrs. Guy rarely passed a night without experiencing some 
 extraordinary pain or other, Blanche listened absently. 
 
 *' It is the heart, my dear ; I am becoming sure of that," 
 said the old lady. "Last year, if you remember, the 
 physician put it down to spleen ; but when I go to him 
 to-morrow and tell him of this dreadful oppression, he will 
 change his opinion." 
 
 " Don't you think you keep yourself too warm ? " said 
 Blanche, who looked so cool and fresh in her pretty morn- 
 ing dress. " That shawl is heavy, and the fire is warm ; 
 yet it is still quite summer weather." 
 
 "i\.h, child, you young people call it summer weather 
 all the year round if the sun only shines. "When you get 
 to be my age, Blanche, you will know what cold means*
 
 432 THE STORY OF CHAELES STRANGE. 
 
 I dare say you'll go flying off to Marslidale this afternoou iii 
 that gossamer dress you have ou, or one as thin and flowing." 
 
 " No, I shan't," laughed Blanche ; " it would be tumbled 
 and spoilt by the time I got there, I shall go in that pretty 
 now gray cashmere, trimmed with silk brocade." 
 
 " That's a lovely dress, child ; too good to travel in. 
 And you tell me you will be back to-morrow. I don't 
 think that very likely, my dear " 
 
 " But I intend to be," interrupted Blanche. 
 
 " You will see," nodded the old lady. " When your 
 husband gets you there, he will keep you there. Give my 
 love to him, Blanche, and say I hojxi he will be in town 
 before I go back to Jersey. I should like to see him." 
 
 Blanche was nob paying particular attention to this 
 message. Her attention was attracted by a telegraph boy, 
 who seemed to be approaching the door. The next moment 
 there was a loud knock, which made Mrs. Guy start. 
 Blanche explained that it was a telegram. 
 
 " Oh dear ! " cried the old lady. " I don't like telegrams ; 
 they always give me a turn. Perhaps it's come from Jersey 
 to say my house is burned down." 
 
 The telegram, however, had come from Marshdale, It 
 was addressed to Lady Level, and proved to be from her 
 husband. 
 
 Do not come to 3IarsM(de to-day. Put it off until nod 
 wcclc. I amvyritiiuj to you. Wait for letter. Let Charles 
 know,'''' 
 
 Now my Lady Level, staring at the message, and being 
 in chronic resentment against her husband, put the worst 
 possible construction upon this mandate. 
 
 " I hica' how much he would have me at ]\Larshdale 1 " 
 she exclaimed in anger, as she tossed the telegram on the
 
 DOWN AT MARSIIDALE. 433 
 
 table. " ' Don't come down till next wwk ! Wait f(ir 
 letter ! ' Yes, and next week there'll come another message, 
 telling- me I am not to go at all, or that he will be back 
 here. No ; my powers of endurance are at an end ! " 
 
 "But what is it?" cried old Mrs. Gnv, who did not 
 understand, and knew nothing of any misunderstanding 
 between Blanche and her husband. " Not to go, you say ? 
 Is Level ill ? " 
 
 " Oh, of course ; very ill indeed," returned Blanche, 
 suppressing the scorn she felt. 
 
 Putting the telegram into an envelope, she addressed it 
 to me, called Sanders, and bade him take it at once to my 
 office. He did so. But I had also received one to the 
 same effect from Lord Level, who, I suppose, concluded it 
 best to send to me direct. Telling Sanders I would call 
 on Lady Level that evening, I thought no more about the 
 matter, and was glad rather than otherwise that the 
 journey to Marshdale was delayed. This chapter, however, 
 has to do with Blanche and not with me. 
 
 Now whether the step that Lady Level took had its rise 
 in an innocent remark made by Mrs. Guy, or whether it 
 was the result of her own indignant feeling, cannot be told. 
 " My dear," said the old lady, " if my husband were ill, I 
 should go to him all the more." And that was just what 
 Blanche Level resolved to do. 
 
 The previous arrangement had been that she should drive 
 to my office, pick me up, and so onwards to Victoi'ia Station 
 to take the four o'clock train, which would laud us at 
 Marshdale in an hour. 
 
 " My dear, I thought I understood that the telegram 
 stopped your going to Marshdale," said Mrs. Guy, hearing 
 Blanche give orders for the carriage to be at the door at a 
 quarter past three to convey her to Victoria, and perceiving 
 also that she was making preparations for a journey. 
 
 2 F
 
 434 THE STORY OP CHABLES STRANGE. 
 
 "Bat I intend to go all the same," replied Blanche. 
 ** And, dear Mrs. Guy, Charles has sent me word that he 
 will call here this evening. When he comes, please give 
 him this little note. You won't forget ? " 
 
 " Not I, child. Major Carleu is always telling me I am 
 silly ; but I'm not silly enough to forget messages." 
 
 The barouche waited at the door at the appointed time, 
 and Lady Level was driven to Victoria, where she took train 
 for Marshdale. Five o'clock was striking from Lower 
 Marshdale Church when she arrived at Marshdale Station. 
 
 " Get out here, miss ? " asked the porter, who saw Lady 
 Level trying to open the door. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Any luggage ? " 
 
 " Only this bag," replied Lady Level. 
 
 The man took charge of it, and she alighted. Traversing 
 the little roadside station, she looked towards where the fiy 
 generally stood ; but no fly was there. The station-master 
 waited for her ticket. 
 
 " Is the fly not there ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Seems not," answered the master, indifferently. But as 
 he spoke he recognized Lady Level. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my lady. Tlie fly went off with 
 some passengers who alighted from the last up-train ; it's 
 not back yet." 
 
 " Will it be long, do you know ? " 
 
 " Well — I James," he called to the porter, " where 
 
 did the fly go to ? " 
 
 " Over to Dimsdale," replied the man. 
 
 " Then it won't be back for half an hour yet, my lady," 
 said the station-master. 
 
 " Oh, I can't wait all that time," returned Lady Level, 
 rather impatiently. " I will walk. Will you be good 
 enough to send my bag after mc ? "
 
 DOWN AT MAESHDALE, 435 
 
 " I'll seud it directly, my lady." 
 
 She was stepping from the little platform when a thought 
 struck her, and she turned to ask a question of the station' 
 master. " Is it safe to cross the fields now ? I remember 
 it was said not to be so when I was here last." 
 
 " On account of Farmer Piggot's bull," replied he. " The 
 fields are quite safe now, my lady ; the bull went mad and 
 had to be killed." 
 
 Lady Level passed in at the little gate, which stood a few 
 yards down the road, and was the entrance to the field-way 
 which led to Marshdale House. It was a warm evening, 
 calm and sunny ; not a leaf stirred ; all nature seemed at 
 rest. 
 
 " What will Archibald say to me .? " she wondered, her 
 thoughts busy. " He will fly into a temper, perhaps. I 
 can't help it if he does. I am determined now to find out 
 why I am kept away from JMarslidale and why he is for 
 ever coming to it. This underhand work has been going 
 on too long." 
 
 At this moment, a whistle behind her, loud and shrill, 
 caused her to turn. She was crossing the first field. In 
 the distance she espied a boy striding towards her: and 
 soon recognized him for the surly boy, Sam Doughty. Ho 
 carried her bag, and vouchsafed her a short nod as he 
 came up. 
 
 " How are you, Sam ? " she asked pleasantly. 
 
 "Didn't think about its being you," was Sam's imper- 
 turbable answer, as he walked on beside her. " When they 
 disturbs me at my tea and says I must go right off that 
 there same moment with a bag for Marshdale House, I 
 took it to be my lord's at least." 
 
 " Did they not let you finish your tea ? " said Lady Level, 
 with a smile. 
 
 "No, they didn't," retorted Sam, in tones of deep
 
 4.36 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 resentment. " Catch 'em a-letting me stop for Ijite or sup 
 when there's work to do ; not if I was starving. The master, 
 lie's a regular stinger for being down on a fellow, and 
 
 t'other's a I say," broke off Mr. Sam, " did yon ever 
 
 know a rat ? — one what keeps ferreting his nose into every- 
 thing as don't concern him ? Then you've knowed James 
 Pamn." 
 
 " James Runn is the porter, I suppose ? " said Lady 
 Level, much amused. 
 
 " Well, he is, and the ]:)iggest sneak as ever growed. 
 What did he go and do last week ? We had a lot o' 
 passengers to get off by the down train to Dover, the people 
 from the Grange it were, and a sight o' trunks. I'd been 
 helping to stow the things in the luggage- van, and the foot- 
 man, as he was getting into his second-class carriage, holds 
 out a shilling, open handed. I'd got my fingers upon it, 
 I had, when that there James Runn, that rascally porter, 
 clutches hold of it and says it were meant for him, not for 
 me. I wish he was gone, I do ! " 
 
 " The bull is gone, I hear," remarked Lady Level. 
 
 " Oh, he have been gone this long time from here," replied 
 the boy, shifting the bag from one shoulder to the other. 
 " He took to run at folks reg'lar, he did ; such fun it were 
 to hear 'em squav^k ! One old woman in a red shaAvl he 
 took and tossed. Mr. Drewitt up at the House iuterfer.ad 
 then, and told Farmer Piggot the bull must be moved ; so 
 the farmer put him over yonder on t'other side his farm 
 into the two-acre meadow, Avhich haven't got no right o' 
 way through it. After that he went mad and had to be 
 killed. I wish he had tossed that there James Runn first 
 and done for him ! " deliberately avowed Sam, again shift- 
 ing his burden. 
 
 " You appear to find that Ijag heavy," remarked Lady 
 Level.
 
 •X 
 
 Down at maeshdale. 457 
 
 " It's not that heavy, so to say," acknowledged the surly 
 boy ; " it's that I be famishing for my tea. Oh, that there 
 Runn's vicious, he is ! — a sending me off when I'd hardly 
 took a mouthful ! " 
 
 " Well, I could not carry it myself," she said laughingly. 
 
 " He might ha' brought it ; he had took his own tea, he 
 had. It's not so much he does — just rushes up to the 
 doors o' the trains when they comes in, on the look-out for 
 what may be give to him, making believe he's letting folks 
 in and out o' the carriages. I see my lord give him a 
 shilling t'other day ; that I did." 
 
 " When my lord arrived here, do you mean ? " 
 
 " No, 't warn't that day, 't were another. My lord comes 
 on to the station asking about a parcel he were expecting of. 
 Mr. Noakes, he were gone to his dinner, and Runn answered 
 my lord that he had just took the parcel to Marshdale 
 House and left it with Mr. Snow. Upon which my lord 
 puts his hand in his pocket and gives him a shilling. I 
 see it." 
 
 liady Level laughed. It was impossible to help it. 
 Sam's tone was so intensely wrathful. 
 
 " Do you see nuich of Lord Level ? " she asked. 
 
 " I've not see'd him about for some days. It's said he's 
 ill." 
 
 " What is the matter with him ? " 
 
 "Don't know," said Sam. "It were Dr. Hill's young 
 man, Mitcham, I heard say it. Mother sent me last night 
 to Dr. Hill's for her physic, and Mv. Mitcham he said he 
 had not been told naught about her physic, but he'd ask 
 the doctor when he came back from attending upon my 
 L^rd L'jvcl." 
 
 " Is your mother ill ? " inquired Sam's listener. 
 
 " She be that bad, she be, as to be more fit to be a-bcd 
 nor up," replied the boy : and his voice really took a softer
 
 438 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 tone as he spoke of his mother. " It were twins this last 
 time, yon see, and there's such a lot to do for 'em all, mother 
 can't spare a minute in the day to lie by : and father's 
 wages don't go so fur as they did when there was less mouths 
 at home." 
 
 " How many brothers and sisters have you ? " 
 
 " Five," said Sam, " not counting the twins, which 
 makes seven. I be the eldest, and I makes eight. And, 
 if ever I does get a shilling or a sixpence gived me, I takes 
 it right home to mother^ I wish them there two twins had 
 kept away," continued Sam, spitefully ; " mother had her 
 hands full without them. Squalling things they both be." 
 
 Thus, listening to the boy's confidences, Lady Level 
 came to Marshdale House, Sam carried the bag to the 
 front door. No one was to be seen. All things, indoors 
 and out, seemed intensely quiet. 
 
 "You can put it down here, Sam," said Lady Level, 
 producing half a crown. " Will you give this to your 
 mother if I give it to you ? " 
 
 " I always gives her everything as is gived to me," 
 returned Sam, resentfully. " I telled ye so." 
 
 Slipping it into his pocket, the boy set off again across 
 the fields. Lady Level rang the bell gently. Somehow 
 she was not feeling so well satisfied with herself for having 
 come as she felt when she started. Deborah opened the 
 door. 
 
 " Ob, my lady 1 " she exclaimed in surprise, but speaking 
 in a whisper. 
 
 *' My bag is outside," said T^ady Level, walking forward 
 to the first sitting-room, the door of which stood open. 
 Mrs. Edwards met her. 
 
 " Dear, dear I " exclaimed the old lady, lifting her hands. 
 " Then Snow never sent those messages off properly after 
 all ! My lady, I am sorry you should have come."
 
 DOWN AT MARSHDALE. 439 
 
 " I tlionglit I was expected, and l\rr. Strange with me," 
 returned Blanche coldly. 
 
 " True, my lady, so you were ; but a telegram was sent 
 off this morning to stop you. Two telegrams went, one 
 to your ladyship and one to Mr. Strange. It Avas I gave 
 the order from my lord to Snow, and I thought I might 
 as well send one also to Mr. Strange, though his lordship 
 said nothing about it." 
 
 " But why was I stopped ? " questioned Blanche. 
 
 " On account of my lord's illness," replied Mrs. Edwards. 
 " He grew much worse in the night ; and when Mr. Hill 
 saw how it was with him this morning, he said your lady- 
 ship's visit must be put off. Mr. Hill is with him now." 
 
 " Of what nature is his illness ? " 
 
 " My lady, he has not been very well since he came down. 
 When he arrived here we remarked that he seemed low- 
 spirited. In a few days he began to be feverish, and asked 
 me to get him some lemonade made. Quarts of it he 
 drank : cook protested there'd be a failure of lemons in 
 the village. 'It's last year's fever back again,' said his 
 lordship to me, speaking in jest. But, strange to say, he 
 might as well have spoken in earnest, for it turns out to be 
 the same sort of fever precisely." 
 
 " Is he very ill ? " 
 
 " He is very ill indeed to-day," answered Mrs. Edwards. 
 " Until this morning it was thought to be a light attack, 
 no danger attending it, nor any symptom of delirium. 
 But that has all changed, and this afternoon he is slightly 
 delirious." 
 
 " Is there — dans-er ? " cried Blanche. 
 
 " Mr. Hill says not, my lady. Not yet, at all events. 
 But — here he is," broke off Mrs. Edwards, as the doctor's 
 step was heard. " He will be able to explain more of the 
 illness to your ladyship than I can."
 
 440 THE STORY OP CHARLES STRAN(^E. 
 
 She left the room as Mr. Hill entered it. The same 
 cheerful, hearty man that Blanche had known last year, 
 with a fine brow and benevolent countenance. Blanche 
 shook hands with him, and he sat down near her. 
 
 " So you did not get the telegram ? " he began, after 
 greeting her, 
 
 " I did get it," answered Blanche, feeling rather ashamed 
 to be obliged to confess it. " But I — I was ready, and I 
 thought I would come all the same." 
 
 "It is a pity," said Mr. Hill. "You must not let your 
 husband see you. Indeed, the best thing you can do will 
 be to go back again.',' 
 
 " But why ? " asked Blanche, turning obstinate. " What 
 have I done to him that he may not see me ? " 
 
 "You don't understand, my dear," said the surgeon, 
 speaking in his fatherly way. " His lordship is in a critical 
 state, the disease having manifested itself with alarming 
 rapidity. If he can be kept perfectly calm and still, its 
 progress may be arrested and danger averted. If not, it 
 will assuredly turn to brain-fever and must run its course. 
 Anything likely to rouse him in the smallest degree, no 
 matter whether it be pleasure or pain, must be absolutely 
 kept from him. Only the sight of you might bring on an 
 excitement that might be — well, I was going to say fatal. 
 That is why I suggested to his lordship to send off the 
 telegram." 
 
 " Y''ou knew I was coming down, then ? " said Blanche. 
 
 " My dear, I did know ; and But, bless me, I 
 
 ought to apologize to your ladyship for my familiarity," 
 broke off the kindly doctor, with a smile. 
 
 Blanche answered by smiling too, and putting her hand 
 into his. 
 
 " I lost a daughter when she was about your age, my 
 dear; you put me in mind of her: 1 said so to Mrs.
 
 130WN AT MAltSIIDALE. 44i 
 
 Edwards wlien you were here last autumn. She was my 
 only child, and my wife was ah-eady gojic. AVell, well ! 
 15 lit that's beside the present question," he added briskly. 
 '• "Will you go back to town, Lady Level ? " 
 
 " I would rather remain, now I am here," she answered. 
 " At least, for a day or two. I will take care not to show 
 myself to Lord Level." 
 
 " Very well," said the doctor, rising-, " Do not let him 
 either hear you or see you. I shall b3 in again at nine 
 to-night." 
 
 " Who is nursing him ? " asked Blanche. 
 
 " Mrs. Edwards. She is the l)est nurse in the world. 
 Snow, the head gardener, helps occasionally ; he will watch 
 to-night ; and Deborah fetches and carries." 
 
 Lady Level took contrition to herself as she sat alone. 
 She had been mentally accusing her husband of all sorts 
 of things, whilst he was really lying in peril of his life. 
 Matters and mystei-ies pertaining to Marshdale were not 
 cleared up ; but — Blanche could not discern any particular 
 mystery to wage war with just now. 
 
 Tea was served to her, and Blanche would not allow 
 them to think of dinner. Mrs. Edwards had a room pre- 
 pared for her in a different corridor from Lord Level's, so 
 that he would not be in danger of hearing her voice or 
 footsteps. 
 
 Very lonely felt Blanche when twilight fell, as she sat 
 at the window. She thought she had never seen trees look 
 so melancholy before, and she recalled what Charles Strange 
 had always said — that trees in the gloaming caused him 
 to be curiously depressed. Presently, wrapping a blue 
 cloud about her head and shoulders, she strolled out of 
 doors. 
 
 It was nearly dark now, and the overhanging trees 
 made it darker. Blanche strolled to the front gate and
 
 442 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 looked up and down the road. Xot a soul was about ; nob 
 a sound broke tlie stillness. The house behind her was 
 gloomy enough ; no light to be seen save the faint one that 
 burnt in Lord Level's chamber, whose windows faced this 
 way ; or a flash that now and then appeared in the passages 
 from a lamp carried by some one moving about. 
 
 Blanche walked up and down, now in this path, now in 
 that, now sitting on a bench, under the dark trees. By- 
 and-by, she heard the front door open and some one come 
 down the path, cross to the side path, unlock the small 
 door that led into the garden of the East Wing and enter 
 it. By the faint light remaining, she thought she recog- 
 nized John Snow, the gardener. 
 
 She distinctly heard his footsteps pass up the other 
 garden ; distinctly heard the front door of the East Wing 
 open to admit him, and close again. Prompted by idle 
 curiosity, Blanche also approached the little door in the 
 wall, found it shut^ but not locked, opened it, went in, 
 advanced to where she had full view of the wing, and stood 
 gazing up at it. Like the other part of the house, it loomed 
 out dark and gloomy ; the upper windows appeared to have 
 outer bars before them ; at least, Blanche thought so. 
 Only in one room was there any light. 
 
 It was in a lower room, a sitting-room, no doubt. The 
 lamp, standing on the centre table, was bright ; the window 
 was thrown up. Beside it sat some one at work ; crochet- 
 work, or knitting, or tatting ; something or other done 
 with the fingers. ]\Irs. Snow anuising herself, thought 
 ]Uanche at first ; but in a moment she saw that it was not 
 Mrs. Snow. The face Avas dark and handsome, and the 
 black hair was adorned with black lace. AVith a sensation 
 as of some mortal agony rushing and whirling through her 
 veins, Lady Level recognized her. It was Nina, the Italian. 
 
 Nina, who had been the subject of her suspicious
 
 t)OWN AT MARSHDALE. 443 
 
 jealousy ; Nina, who was, beyond doubt, the attraction 
 that drew her husband to Marshdale ; and who, as she 
 fully believed, had been the one to stab him a year ago ! 
 
 Blanche crept back to her own garden. Finding instinc- 
 tively the darkest seat it contained, she sat down upon it 
 with a faint cry of despair.
 
 Ul THE STOEY OF CHAKLES STRANGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYI. 
 
 IN THE EAST WIXG. 
 
 What will not a jealous and angry woman do ? The next 
 morning (Friday) Blanche Level, believing herself to be 
 more ignominioiisly treated than ever wife w^as yet, 
 despatched a couple of telegrams to London, both of them 
 slightly incomprehensible. One of the telegrams was to 
 Charles Strange, the other to Arnold Eavensworth ; and 
 both were to the same effect — they must hasten down to 
 Marshdalc to her "protection" and "rescue." And Mr. 
 Ravensworth was requested to bring his wife. 
 
 " She will be some little countenance for me ; I'm sure I 
 dare not think how I must be looked upon here," mentally 
 spoke my Lady Level in her glowing indignation. 
 
 Lord Level was better. When Mr. Hill paid his early 
 visit that Friday morning, he pronoimced him to be very 
 much better ; and John Snow said his lordship had passed 
 a quiet night. " If we can only keep him tranquil to-day 
 and to-night again, there Avill be no further danger from 
 the fever," Mr. Hill then observed to Lady Level. 
 
 '^riic day went on, the reports from the sick-room con- 
 tiuuing favourable : my lord Avas lying tranquil, his mind 
 clear. My lady, down below, was anything but tranquil : 
 rather she felt herself in a raging fever. lu the evening, 
 quite late, the two gentlemen arrived from London, not 
 having been aljle to come earlier. JMrs. Ilaveusworth was
 
 IN THE EAST WING. 445 
 
 not with tlicm, fur she could not leave her delicate bab}'. 
 Lady Level had given orders for chambers to be prepared. 
 
 After they had partaken of refreshments, which brought 
 the time to ten o'clock, Lady Level opened her grievances — • 
 past and present. Modest and reticent though her language 
 still was, she contrived to convey sundry truths to them. 
 From the early days of her marriage she had unfortunately 
 had cause to suspect Lord Level of disloyalty to herself and 
 of barefaced loyalty to another. Iler own eyes had seen 
 him more than once with the girl called Nina at Pisa ; had 
 seen him at her house, sitting side by side with her in her 
 garden smoking and talking — had heard him address her by 
 her Christian name. This woman, as she positively knew, 
 had followed Lord Level to England ; was now harboured 
 at Marshdale, in the East Wing. She, Blanche, had seen 
 her there the previous evening. 
 
 Mr. Ravensworth's severe countenance took a stern 
 expression as he listened ; he believed every word. Charles 
 Strange (I am not speaking just here in my own person) 
 still thought there might be a mistake somewhere. He 
 could not readily take up so bad an opinion of Lord Level, 
 although circumstances did appear to tell against him. His 
 incredulity irritated Blanche. 
 
 "I will tell you, then, what I have never disclosed to 
 mortal man," she flashed forth, in passionate tones, bending 
 forward her pretty face, now growing whiter than death. 
 " You remember that attack upon Lord Level last autumn. 
 You came down at^tlie time, Arnold " 
 
 " Yes, yes. What about it ? " 
 
 " It was that woman who stabbed him ! " 
 
 Neither spoke for a moment. " Nonsense Blanche I " 
 said Mr. Strange. 
 
 " I tell you that it was she who did it. She was in a 
 white dressing-gown, or something of that sort, and her
 
 446 THE STOHY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 black hair was falling about her ; but I could not mistake' 
 her Italian face." 
 
 Mr. Eavensworth did not forget Lady Level's curious 
 behaviour at the time ; he had thought then she suspected 
 some one in particular. " Are you quite sure of this ? " he 
 asked her now. 
 
 "I am sure, quite sure. And you must both see the 
 danger I may myself be in whilst I am here," she added 
 shivering. "That woman may try to stab me, as she 
 stabbed him. She must have stabbed him out of jealousy, 
 because I — his wife — was in the house." 
 
 "You had better quit the house the first thing in the 
 morning, Lady Level, and return to London," said Mr. 
 Bavensworth. 
 
 " That I will not do," she promptly answered. " I will 
 not leave Marshdale until all these things have been 
 investigated ; and I have sent for you to act on my behalf 
 and bring them to light. Xo longer shall the reproach be 
 constantly cast upon me by my father and Charles Strange, 
 that I complain of my husband without cause. It is my 
 turn now." 
 
 That something must be done, or at least attempted, in 
 justice to Lady Level, they both realized. But what, or 
 how to set about it, neither of them knew. They remained 
 in consultation together long after Blanche had retired to 
 rest. 
 
 ""We will go out at daybreak and have a look at the 
 windows of this East Wing," finally observed IMr. Eavens- 
 worth. 
 
 Perhaps that was easier said than done. With the gray 
 light of early morning they were both out of doors : but 
 they could not find any entrance to the East Wing. The 
 door in the garden wall was locked ; the entrance gates 
 from the road were locked also. In the garden at the back
 
 IN THE EAST WING. 447 
 
 — it was more a wilderness than a garden— they discovered 
 a small gate in a corner. It was completely overgrown with 
 trees and shrubs, and had evidently not been used for 
 many years. But the wood had become rotten, the fasten- 
 ings loose ; and with their united strength they opened it. 
 
 They found themselves in a very large space of ground 
 indeed. Grass was in the middle, quite a field of it ; and 
 round it a broad gravel walk. Encompassing all on three 
 sides rose a wide bank of shrubs and overhanging trees. 
 Beyond these again was a very high wall. On the fourth 
 side stood the East Wing, high and gloomy, its windows all 
 encased with iron bars, and the lower windows whitened. 
 
 Surveying all this in surprise, Arnold Eavensworfch 
 advanced to peer in at the windows. Of course, being 
 whitened, he had his trouble for his pains. 
 
 "It puts me in muid of a prison," remarked Charles 
 Strange. 
 
 " It puts me in mind of a madhouse," was the laconic 
 rejoinder. 
 
 They passed back through the gate again, Mr. Ravens- 
 worth turning to take a last look. At that moment his eye 
 was attracted to one of the windows on the ground floor. 
 It opened like a French window, and was being shaken, 
 apparently with a view to opening it — and if you are well 
 acquainted with continental windows, or windows made 
 after their fashion, you may remember how long it has 
 taken you to shake a refractory window before it will yield. 
 It was at length effected, and in the opening, gazing with 
 a vacant, silly expression through the close bars, appeared 
 a face. It remained visible but an instant ; the window 
 was immediately closed again, Mr. Ravensworth thought by 
 another hand. What was the mystery ? 
 
 That some mystery did exist at Marshdale, apart from any 
 Italian ladies who might have no fair right to be there, was
 
 448 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRx\NGE. 
 
 pretty evident. At breakfast the gentlemen related this 
 little experieiice to Blanche. 
 
 Blanche tossed her head incredulously. " Don't be taken 
 in," she answered. " Windows whitened and barred, indeed ! 
 It is all done with a view to misleading people. She was 
 sitting at the open, window at work on Thursday night." 
 
 After breakfast, resolved no longer to bo played with, 
 Blanche proceeded upstairs to Mr. Drewitt's rooms, her 
 friends following her, all three of them creeping by Lord 
 Level's chamber-door with noiseless steps. His lordsliip 
 was getting better quite wonderfully, Mrs. Edwards had 
 told them. 
 
 Tlie old gentleman, in his quaint costume, was in his 
 sitting-room, taking his breakfast alone. Mrs. Edwards 
 took her meals anywhere, and at any time, during her lord's 
 illness. Hearing strange footsteps in the corridor, he rose 
 to see whose they were, and looked considerably astonished. 
 
 " Does your ladyship want me ? " he asked, bowing. 
 
 "I — yes, I think so," answered Lady Level. "Who 
 keeps the key of that door, Mr. Drewitt ? " pointing to the 
 strong oaken door at the end of the passage. 
 
 " I keep it, my lady." 
 
 " Then will you be kind enough to unlock it for me ? 
 These gentlemen wish to examine the East Wing." 
 
 " The East Wing is private to his lordship," was the 
 steward's re^jly, addressing them all conjointly. " Without 
 his authority I cannot open it to any one." 
 
 They stood contending a little while : it was like a 
 repetition of the scene that had been enacted there once 
 before ; and, like that, was terminated by the same individual 
 — the surgeon. 
 
 " It is all right, Drewitt," he said ; " you can open the 
 door of the East Wing ; I bear you my lord's orders. I am 
 going in there myself to see a patient," he added to the rest.
 
 IN THE EAST WING. 449 
 
 The steward produced a key from his pocket, aud put it 
 into the lock. It was surprising that so small a key should 
 open so massive a door. 
 
 They passed, wonderingly, through three rooms en suite : 
 a sitting-room, bedroom and bath-room. All these rooms 
 looked to the back of the house. Other rooms on the same 
 floor the visitors did not touch upon. Descending the stair- 
 case, they entered three similar rooms below. In the smaller 
 one lay some garden-tools, but of a smaller size than a grown 
 man in his strength would use, and by their side were 
 certain toys : tops, hoops, nine-pins, and the like. The 
 middle room was a sitting-room ; the larger room beyond 
 had no furniture, and in that, standing over a humming-top, 
 which he had just set to spin on the floor, bent the singular 
 figure of a youth, with a dark, vacant face, wild black eyes, 
 and a mass of thick black hair, cut short. This strange 
 figure, a child's whip in his hand, was whipping the top, 
 and making a noise with his mouth in imitation of its hum. 
 
 Half madman, half idiot, he stood out, in all his deep 
 misfortune, raising himself up and looking about him with 
 a vacant stare. The expression of Mr. llavensworth's face 
 changed to one of pity. " Who are you .? " he exclaimed in 
 kindly tones. " What is your name ? " 
 
 " Arnie ! " was the mechanical answer, for brains and 
 sense seemed to have little to do with it ; and, catching up 
 his top, he backed against the wall, and burst into a dis- 
 tressing laugh. Distressing to a listener ; not distressing 
 to him, poor fellow. 
 
 " Who is he ? " asked Mr. Ravensworth of the doctor. 
 
 " An imbecile." 
 
 '• So I see. But what connection has he with Lord 
 Level's family ? " 
 
 " He is a connection, or he would not be here." 
 
 " Can he be — a son of Lord Level's ? " 
 
 2 G
 
 450 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " A son ! " interposed the steward, " and my lord but just 
 married ! No, sir, he is not a son, he is none so near as 
 that ; he is but a connection of the Level family." 
 
 The lad came forward from the wall where he was stand- 
 ing, and held out his top to his old friend the doctor. 
 " Do, do," he cried, spluttering as he spoke. 
 
 " Nay, Arnie, you can set it up better than I : my back 
 won't stoop well, Arnie." 
 
 " Do, do," was the persistent request, the top held out 
 still. 
 
 Mr. Ravensworth took it and set it up again, he looking 
 on in greedy eagerness, slobbering and making a noise with 
 his mouth. Then his note changed to a hum, and he 
 whipped away as before. 
 
 " Why is he not put away in an asylum ? " asked Mr. 
 Ravensw^orth. 
 
 " Put away in an asylum ! " retorted the old steward, 
 indignantly. " AYhere could he be put to have the care and 
 kindness that is bestowed upon him here ? Imbecile though 
 he is, madman though he may be, he is dear to me and my 
 sister. "We pass our lives tending him, in conjunction with 
 Snow and his wife, doing for him, soothing him : where 
 else could that be done ? You don't know what you are 
 saying, sir. My lord, who received the charge from his 
 father, comes down to see him : my lord orders that every- 
 thing should be done for his comfort. And do you suppose 
 it is fitting that his condition should be made public ? The 
 fact of one being so afflicted is slur enough upon the race 
 of Level, without its being proclaimed abroad." 
 
 " It was he who attacked Lord Level last year ? " 
 
 " Yes, it was ; and how he could have escaped to our 
 part of the house will be a marvel to me for ever. My 
 sister says I could not have slipped the bolt of the passage 
 door as usual, but I know I did bolt it. Arnie had been
 
 IX THE EAST WIKG. 451 
 
 restless that day ; he has restless fits ; and I suppose he 
 could not sleep, and must have risen from his bed and come 
 to my sitting-room. On my table there I had left my 
 pocket-knife, a new knife, the blades bright and sharp ; 
 and this he must have picked up and opened, and found 
 his way with it to my lord's chamber. Why he should have 
 attacked him, or any one else, I know not ; he never had 
 a ferocious fit before." 
 
 " Never," assented Mr. Hill, in confirmation. 
 
 Mr. Drewitt continued : " He has been imbecile and 
 harmless as you see him now, but he has never disturbed us 
 at night ; he has, as I say, fits of restlessness when he 
 cannot sleep, but he is suflSciently sensible to ring a bell 
 communicating with Snow's cliamber if he wants anything. 
 If ever he has rung, it has been to say he wants meat." 
 
 " Meat ! " 
 
 The steward nodded. " But it has never been given to 
 him. He is cunning as a fox ; they all are ; and were we 
 to begin giving him food in the middle of the night we must 
 continue to do it, or have no peace. Eating is his one 
 enjoyment in life, and he devours everything set before him 
 — meat especially. If we have any particular dainty up- 
 stairs for dinner or supper, I generally take him in some. 
 Deborah, I believe, thinks I eat all that comes up, and sets 
 me down for a cannibal. He has a hot supper every night. 
 About a year ago we got to think it might be better for him 
 to have a lighter one, and we tried it for a week ; but he 
 moaned and cried all night long for his hot meat, and we 
 had to give it him again. The night this happened we had 
 veal cutlets and bacon, and he had the same. He asked for 
 more, but I would not give it ; perhaps that angered him, 
 and he mistook my lord for me. Mr. Hill thought it might 
 be so. I shall never be able to account for it." 
 
 The doctor nodded assent ; and the speaker went on ;
 
 452 THE STOKY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " His hair was long then, and he must have looked just 
 like a maniac when the fit of fury lay upon him. Little 
 wonder that my lady was frightened at the sight of him. 
 After he had done the deed he ran back to his own room ; I, 
 aroused by the commotion, found hira in his bed. He burst 
 out laughing when he saw me : ' I got your knife, I got 
 your knife,' he called out, as if it were a feat to be proud of. 
 His movements must have Iteen silent and stealthy, for Snow 
 had heard nothing." 
 
 At this moment there occurred an interruption. The 
 Italian lady approached the room with timid, hesitating 
 steps, and peeped in. " Ah, how do you do, doctor ? " she 
 said in a sweet, gentle voice, as she held out her hand to 
 Mr. Hill. Her countenance was mild, open, and honest ; 
 and a conviction rushed on the instant into Blanche's mind 
 that she had been misjudging that foreign lady. 
 
 "These good gentlepeople are come to see our poor 
 patient ? " she added, curtseying to them with native grace, 
 her accent quite foreign. " The poor, poor boy ! " tears fill- 
 ing her eyes. " And I foretell that this must be my lord's 
 wife ! " addressing Blanche. " Will she permit a poor 
 humble stranger to shake her by the hand for her lord's sake 
 — her lord, who has been so good to us ? " 
 
 "This lady is sister to the unfortunate boy's mother," 
 said the doctor, in low tones to Blanche. " She is a good 
 woman, and worthy to shake hands with you, my lady." 
 
 " But who was his father ? " whispered Blanche. 
 
 " Mr. Francis Level ; my lord's dead brother." 
 
 Her countenance radiant, Blanche took the lady's hand 
 and warmly clasped it. " You live here to take care of the 
 poor lad," she said. 
 
 " But no, madam. I do but come at intervals to see him, 
 all the way from Pisa, in Italy. And also I have had to 
 come to bring documents and news to my lord, respecting
 
 IN THE EAST WING. 453 
 
 matters that concern him and the poor lad. But it is over 
 now," she added. " The week after the one next to come, 
 Arnie goes back with me to Italy, his native country, and 
 my journeys to this country will be ended. His mother, 
 who is always ill and not able to travel, wishes now to have 
 her afflicted son with her." 
 
 Back in the other house again, after wishing Nina Sparlati 
 good-day, the astonished visitors gathered in Mr. Drewitt's 
 room to listen to the tale which had to be told them. Mrs. 
 Edwards, who was awaiting them, and fonder of talking 
 than her brother, was the principal narrator. Blanche went 
 away, whispering to Charles Strange that she would hear 
 it from him afterwards. 
 
 " We were abroad in Italy," j\Irs. Edwards began : " it is 
 many years ago. The late lord, our master then, went for 
 his health, which was declining, though he was but a middle- 
 aged man, and I and my brother were with him, his personal 
 attendants, but treated more like friends. The present lord, 
 Mr. Archibald, named after his father, was with us — he was 
 the second son, not the heir ; the eldest son, Mr. Level — 
 Francis was his name — had been abroad for years, and was 
 then in another part of Italy. He came to see his father 
 when we first got out to Florence, but he soon left again. 
 ' He'll die before my lord,' I said to Mr. Archibald ; for if 
 ever I saw consumption on a man's face, it was on Mr. 
 Level's. And I remember Mr. Archibald's answer as if it 
 was but yesterday : ' That's just one of your fancies, nurse : 
 Frank tells me he has looked the last three years as he looks 
 now.' But I was right, sir ; for shortly after that we re- 
 ceived news of the death of Mr. Ijcvel ; and then Mr. 
 Archibald was the heir. ]\Iy lord, who had grown worse 
 instead of better, was very ill then." 
 
 " Did the late lord die in Italy ? " questioned Mr. Eavens- 
 worth.
 
 454 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 " You shall hear, sir. He grew very ill, I say, and we 
 thought he would be sure to move homewards, but he still 
 stayed on. ' Archibald likes Florence,' he would say, ' and 
 it's all the same to me where I am.' ' Young Level stops 
 for the heaux yeux of the Tuscan women,' the world said 
 — but you know, sir, the world always was censorious ; and 
 young men will be young men. However, we were at last 
 on the move ; everything was packed and prepared for leav- 
 ing, when there arrived an ill-favoured young woman, with 
 some papers and a little child two years old. Its face 
 friojhtened me when I saw it. It was as a child what it is 
 now as a growing man ; and you have seen it to-day," she 
 added in a whisper. " ' What is the matter with him ? ' I 
 asked, for I could speak a little Italian. ' He's a born 
 natural, as yet,' she answered, ' but the doctors think he 
 may outgrow it in part.' ' But who is he ? what does he do 
 here ? ' I said. ' He's the son of Mr. Level,' she replied, 
 ' and I have brought him to the family, for his mother, who 
 was my sister, is also dead.' ' He the son of Mr. Level ! ' I 
 uttered, knowing she must speak of Mr. Francis. ' Well, 
 you need not bring him here : we English do not recognize 
 chance children.' ' They were married three years ago,' she 
 coolly answered, ' and I have brought the papers to prove it. 
 Mr. Level was a gentleman and my sister not much above a 
 peasant ; but she was beautiful and good, and he married 
 her, and this is their child. She has been dying by inches 
 since her husband died ; she is now dead, and I am come 
 here to give up the child to his father's peo])le.' " 
 
 " Was it true ? " interrupted Mr. Strange. 
 
 " My lord thought so, sir, and took kindly to the child. 
 He was brought home here, and the East Wing was made 
 his nursery- — - " 
 
 " Then that — that — poor wretch down there is the true 
 Lord Level ! " interrupted Mr. Ravensworth.
 
 IN THE EAST WING. 455 
 
 *' One day, when my lord was studying the documents the 
 woman had left," resumed Mrs. Edwards, passing by the 
 remark with a glance, " something curious struck him in the 
 certificate of marriage ; he thought it was forged. He 
 showed it to Mr. Archibald, and they decided to go back to 
 Italy, leaving the child here. All the inquiries they made 
 there tended to prove that, though the child was indeed Mr. 
 Francis Level's, there had been no marriage or semblance of 
 one. ' All the same,' said my lord, ' the poor child shall be 
 kindly reared and treated and provided for : ' and Mr. Archi- 
 bald solemnly promised his father it should be so. My lord 
 died at Florence, and Mr. Archibald came back Lord Level." 
 
 " And he never forgot his promise to his father," inter- 
 posed the steward, "but has treated the child almost as 
 though he were a true son, consistent with his imbecile 
 state. The East Wing has been his happy home, as Mr. 
 Hill can testify : he has toys to amuse him, the garden to 
 dig in, which is his favourite pastime ; and Snow draws him 
 about the paths in his hand-carriage on fine days. It is a 
 sad misfortune, for him and for the family ; but my lord has 
 done his best." 
 
 "It would have been a greater for my lord had the 
 marriage been a legal one," remarked Mr. Ravensworth. 
 
 " I don't know that," sharply spoke up the doctor. " As 
 an idiot I believe he could not inherit. However, the 
 marriage was not a legal one, and my lord is my lord. 
 The mother is not dead ; that was a fabrication also ; but 
 she is ill, helpless, and is pining for her son ; so now he 
 is to be taken to her ; my lord, in his generosity, securing 
 him an ample income. It was not the mother who per- 
 petrated the fraud, but the avaricious eldest sister. This 
 sister, the one you have just seen, is the youngest ; she is 
 good and honourable, and has done her best to unravel the 
 plot."
 
 456 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 That was all the exi^lanation given to Mr. Ravensworth. 
 But the doctor put his arm within that of Charles Strange, 
 and took him into the presence of Lord Level. 
 
 "Well," said his lordship, who was then sitting up in 
 bed, and held out his hand, "have you been hearing all 
 about the mysteries, Charles ? " 
 
 " Yes," smiled Mr. Strange. " I felt sure that whatever 
 the mystery might be, it was one you could safely explain 
 away if you chose. I have always said so." 
 
 "Ay : though Blanche did take up the other view and 
 want to cut my head off." 
 
 " She was your own wife, your loving wife, I am certain : 
 why not have told hel- ? " 
 
 "Because I wanted to be quite sure of certain things 
 first," replied Lord Level. " Listen, Charles : you have 
 my tale to hear yet. Sit down. Sit down, Hill. How 
 am I to talk whilst you stand ? " he asked, laughing. 
 
 " When we were in Paris after our marriage a year ago, 
 I received two shocks on one and the same morning," began 
 Lord Level. " The one told me of the trouble Tom Heriot 
 had fallen into ; the other, contained in a letter from Pisa, 
 informed me that there had been a marriage after all be- 
 tween my brother and that girl, Bianca Sparlati. If so, of 
 course, that imbecile lad stood between me and the title 
 and estate ; though I don't think he could legally inherit. 
 But I did not credit the information. I felt sure that it 
 was another invented artifice of Annetta, the wretched 
 eldest sister, who is a grasping intriguante. I started at 
 once for Pisa, where they live, to make inquiries in person : 
 travelling by all sorts of routes, unfrequented by the Enghsh, 
 that my wife might not hear of her brother's disgrace. At 
 Pisa I found difiiculties : statements met me that seemed 
 to prove there had been a marriage, and I did not see my 
 way to disprove them. Nina, a brave, honest girl, confessed
 
 IN THE EAST WING. 457 
 
 to me that she doubted them, and I begged of her, for truth 
 and right's sake, to help me as far as she could. I cannot 
 enter into details now, Strange ; I am not strong enough 
 for it ; enough to say that ever since, nearly a whole year, 
 have I been trying to ferret out the truth : and I only got 
 at it a week ago." 
 
 " And there was no marriage ? " 
 
 " Tell him. Hill," said Lord Level, laughing. 
 
 "Well, a sort of ceremony did pass between Francis 
 Level and that young woman, but both of them knew at 
 the time it was not legal, or one that could ever stand 
 good," said the doctor. "Now the real facts have come 
 to light. It seems that Bianca had been married when 
 very young to a sailor named Di'omio ; within a month of 
 the wedding he sailed away again and did not return. She 
 thought him dead, took up her own name again and went 
 home to her family ; and later became acquainted with 
 Francis Level. Now, the sailor has turned up again, alive 
 and well " 
 
 " The first husband ! " exclaimed Charles Strange. 
 
 " If you like to call him so," said Mr. Hill ; " there was 
 never a second. Well, the sailor has come to the fore again ; 
 and honest-hearted Nina travelled here from Pisa with the 
 news, and we sent for his lordship to come down and hear 
 it. He was also wanted for another matter. The boy had 
 had a sort of fit, and I feared he would die. My lord heard 
 what Nina had to tell him when he amvcd ; he did not 
 return at once to London, for Arnie was still in danger, 
 and he waited to see the issue. Very shortly he was taken 
 ill himself, and could not get away. It was good news, 
 though, about that resuscitated sailor ! " laughed the doctor, 
 after a pause. "All's well that ends well, and my Lord 
 Level is own man again." 
 
 Charles Strange sought an interview with his sister— as 
 
 
 '^^' ''t'^ki^jV^
 
 458 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 he often called her — aud imparted to her these particulars. 
 He then left at once for London with Mr. Ravensworth. 
 Their mission at Marshdale was over. 
 
 Lord Level, up and dressed, lay on a sofa in his bedroom 
 in the afternoon. Blanche sat on a footstool beside him. 
 Her face was hidden upon her husband's knee and she was 
 crying bitter tears. 
 
 " Shall you ever forgive me, Archibald ? " 
 
 He was smiling quietly. " Some husbands might say no." 
 
 " You don't know how miserable I have been." 
 
 " Don't I ! But how came you to fall into such notions 
 at first, Blanche ? To suspect me of ill at all ? " 
 
 " It was that Mrs. Page Eeid who was with us at Pisa. 
 She said all sorts of things. But for her nothing of the 
 sort would ever have occurred to me." 
 
 " Ah ! " 
 
 " You will forgive me, Archibald ? " 
 
 " Yes, upon condition that you trust me fully in future. 
 "Will you, love ? " he softly whispered. 
 
 She could not speak for emotion. 
 
 "And the next time you have a private grievance against 
 me, Blanche, tell it out plainly," he said, as he held her to 
 him and kissed her tenderly. 
 
 " My darling, yes. But I shall never have another."
 
 ( 45'J j 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 I, Charles Strange, took up this story at its commence- 
 ment, and I take it up now at its close. 
 
 It was a lovely day at the end of summer, in the year 
 following the events recorded in the last chapter, and we 
 were again at Marshdale House. 
 
 The two individuals who had chiefly marred the peace of 
 one or another of us in the past were both gone where 
 disturbance is not. Poor Tom Heriot was mouldering in 
 his grave near to that in which his father and mother lay, 
 not having been discovered by the authorities or molested 
 in any way ; and the afflicted Italian lad had died soon 
 after he was taken back to his native land. Mr. Hill had 
 warned Nina Sparlati that, in all probability, he would not 
 live long. Mrs. Brightman, I may as well say it here, had 
 recovered permanently ; recovered in all ways, as we hoped 
 and believed. The long restraint laid upon her by her 
 illness had effected the cure that nothing else might have 
 been able to accomplish, and re-established the good habits 
 she had lost. But Miss Brightman was dead ; she had not 
 lived to come home from Madeira, and the whole of her 
 fortune was left to Annabel. " So you can live where you 
 please now and go in for grandeur," Arthur Lake said to
 
 460 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 me and my wife. " All in good time," laughed Annabel ; 
 " I am not yet tired of Essex Street." 
 
 And now we had come down in the sunny August 
 weather when the courts were up, to stay at Marshdale. 
 
 You might be slow to recognize it. Kecalling the picture 
 of Marshdale House as it was, and looking at it now, many 
 would have said it could not be the same. 
 
 The dreary old structure had been converted into a light 
 and beautiful mansion. The whitened windows with their 
 iron bars were no more. The disfiguring, unnaturally high 
 walls were gone, and the tangled shrubs and weeds, the 
 overgrowth of trees that had made the surrounding land 
 a wilderness, were now turned into lovely pleasure-grounds. 
 The gloomy days had given place to sunshine, said Lord 
 Level, and the gloomy old structm-e, with its gloomy secrets, 
 should be remembered no more. 
 
 Marshdale was now their chief home, his and his wife's, 
 with their establishment of servants. Mr. Drewitt and 
 Mrs. Edwards had moved into a pretty dwelling not far 
 from the gates ; but they were welcomed whenever they 
 liked to go to the house, and were treated as friends. The 
 steward kept the accounts still, and Mrs. Edwards was 
 appealed to by Blanche in all domestic difficulties. She 
 rarely appeared before her lady but in her quaint gala 
 attire. 
 
 We were taking tea out of doors at the back of the 
 renovated East Wing. The air bore that sabbath stillness 
 which Sunday seems to bring : distant bells, ringing the 
 congregation out of church, fell melodiously on the ear. 
 We had been idle this afternoon and stayed at home, but 
 all had attended service in the morning. Mr. Hill had 
 called in and was sitting with us. Annabel presided at 
 the rustic tea-table; Blanche was a great deal too much 
 occupied with her baby-boy, whom she had chosen to have
 
 CONCLUSION. 461 
 
 brought out : a lively young gentleman in a blue sasli, 
 whose face greatly resembled his father's. Next to Lord 
 Level sat my uncle, who had come down for a week's rest. 
 He was no longer Serjeant Stillingfar ; but Sir Charles, 
 and one of her Majesty's judges. 
 
 " "Won't you have some tea, my dear ? " he said to 
 Blanche, who was parading the baby. 
 
 By the way, they had named him Charles. Charles 
 Archi])ald ; to be called by the former name : Lord Level 
 protesting he would not have people saying Young Archie 
 and Old Archie. 
 
 " Yes, Blanche," said he, taking up the suggestion of the 
 judge. " Do let that child go indoors : one might think 
 he was a new toy. Here, I'll take him." 
 
 "Archibald need not talk," laughed Blanche, looking 
 after her husband, who had taken the child from her and 
 was tossing it as he went indoors. " He is just as fond of 
 having the baby as I am. Neither need you laugh, Mr. 
 Charles," turning upon me ; " your turn will come soon, 
 you know." 
 
 Leaving the child in its nursery in the East Wing, Lord 
 Level came back to his place ; and we sat on until eveniug 
 approached. A peaceful evening, promising a glorious 
 sunset. An hour after midday, when we had just got safely 
 in from church, there had been a storm of thunder and 
 lightning and it had cleared the sultry air. The blue sky 
 above, flecked with gold, was of a lovely rose-colour towards 
 the west. 
 
 " The day has been a type of life : or of what life ought 
 to be," suddenly remarked Mr. Hill. " Storm and cloutl 
 succeeded by jxiace and sunshine." 
 
 " The end is not always peaceful," said Lord Level. 
 
 " It for the most part is when we have worked on for it 
 patiently," said the judge. " My friends, you may take
 
 462 THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. 
 
 the word of an old man for it — that a life of storm and 
 trouble, through which we have struggled manfully to do 
 our duty under God, ever bearing on in reliance upon Him, 
 must of necessity end in peace. Perhaps not always perfect 
 and entire peace in this world ; but assuredly in that which 
 is to come." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 STAMFORD STRKET AND CIIARINO CROSS.
 
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