THE BARONET 
 RAC-PICKE 
 
 
 m 
 
 CHARLES S. COOM 
 
 -
 
 o 6 9 D
 
 THE BARONET 
 RAG-PICKER
 
 CAROLINE CROYDEN"
 
 THE BARONET 
 RAG-PICKER 
 
 A Story of Love 
 and Adventure 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES S. COOM 
 
 C. Af. CLARK PUBLISHING CO., Inc. 
 BOSTON, MASS., U.&.A. 
 
 1905
 
 Copyright, 1905, by 
 
 C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO., Int. 
 BOSTON, MASS., U.S.A. 
 
 Entered at 
 STATIONER'S HALL, LONDON 
 
 Foreign Copyrights Secured 
 
 Rights Reserved
 
 Contents 
 
 of 
 
 CHAPTERS 
 
 Introductory 
 
 I A Few Introductions . 
 II Making a Start 
 
 III An Indifferent Profession 
 
 IV The Rescue 
 
 V Courtship and Death 
 VI A Writ from the Court 
 
 Chancery . . . 
 VII Catherine Croyden's Story . 
 VIII Before the Trial 
 IX The Trial 
 X Arrest and Imprisonment 
 XI Seeking Evidence 
 XII Trial for Murder. The 
 Fisherman's Evidence 
 
 XIII Trial for Murder. The 
 
 Prisoner's Evidence . 
 
 XIV Trial for Murder. The Doc- 
 
 tor's Evidence 
 
 XV Trial for Murder. The 
 
 Gipsy's Evidence . . 
 
 XVI Trial for Murder. Summing 
 
 Up . . . . 
 
 XVII The Verdict . . - . 
 
 XVIII Before Leaving the Court . 
 
 XIX A Sermon at Parting . 
 
 2135005
 
 
 Contents 
 
 
 
 CHAPTERS 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 XX 
 
 An Introduction Abroad 
 
 162 
 
 XXI 
 
 Courtship and Marriage of 
 
 
 
 Margaret 
 
 170 
 
 XXII 
 
 The Discovery 
 
 177 
 
 XXIII 
 
 The Revelation 
 
 180 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Mutual Explanations 
 
 184 
 
 XXV 
 
 Back to East Looe 
 
 190 
 
 XXVI 
 
 After Eighteen Years 
 
 192 
 
 XXVII 
 
 Father and Daughter 
 
 200 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 A Patient . 
 
 207 
 
 XXIX 
 
 Margaret . 
 
 212 
 
 XXX 
 
 Early Prognostications 
 
 215 
 
 XXXI 
 
 The Vagaries of a Fever 
 
 
 
 Patient . . . 
 
 218 
 
 XXXII 
 
 Only a Woman's Love 
 
 223 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 Farewell Scenes 
 
 230 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 Death of Catherine 
 
 240 
 
 XXXV 
 
 Filled to Overflowing 
 
 247 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 A Resolution . . 
 
 251 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 The Welcome 
 
 256 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 Home, Sweet Home . 
 
 260
 
 illustrations 
 
 Caroline Croyden 
 
 PAGE 
 " Give up your dead ! George, my 
 
 boy, come back to me " . . 10 
 
 "I have a heart as well as this one " . 42 
 
 "A page had been abstracted from the 
 
 register of marriages " . . 77 
 
 " I am sure you would not see George 
 
 hung, would you?" . . 102 
 
 " Don't put those in your nose or ears, 
 
 Madge" .... 132 
 
 I know but one whom I consider 
 beautiful and good " 
 
 She saw her father kneeling by the 
 bedside with his face in his hands' ' 
 
 " Catherine took his head in her lap, 
 and burst into teari " 
 
 "Then the little doctor meekly ap- 
 peared and shook hands ' '
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 THE coast of Cornwall, noted for its rugged 
 outline and precipitous cliffs, and made histor- 
 ical by the many disastrous shipwrecks that 
 have occurred on its shores, is dotted with 
 fishing- villages and small towns, some of which 
 have become famous as health resorts, besides 
 possessing the enchantment derivable from 
 many an ancient legend; others again are 
 simply what a cursory glance reveals them to 
 be, viz., the abode of individuals in the humbler 
 walks of life, who obtain a livelihood from 
 the exhaustless fishing grounds, or from agri- 
 cultural pursuits. 
 
 Among the latter is the village of East Looe, 
 in later years elevated on the polling lists to the 
 rank of a township; but at the period of this 
 story comprising nothing more than a modest 
 fishing-village, embodying in its industries a 
 small ship-yard, from which a few fishing 
 smacks were annually launched; a rope- walk, 
 in which, to this day, a solitary hand-spinner 
 
 vii
 
 viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 can be seen perambulating up and down, spin- 
 ning ropes which are warranted to stand all 
 requisite strain; there is a sail loft where sails 
 are made of substantial duck-cloth, and under- 
 neath is a room devoted to the making and 
 repairing of nets. 
 
 In those days a visitor would not be im- 
 pressed with the commercial importance of 
 East Looe. There was an air of rest about the 
 village throughout the entire week, correspond- 
 ing more to the Sabbath day in larger towns; 
 and even those engaged in regular duties per- 
 formed them in such a perfunctory manner 
 that the labour usually attending it seemed to 
 be abolished. The very children wending their 
 way to the little school-house at the back of the 
 ancient church seemed less boisterous than 
 obtained elsewhere ; indeed it is to be wondered 
 at how East Looe ever arose from its lethargy 
 to become enlisted as a town, only the wonder 
 in this case is not to be construed in a deroga- 
 tory sense ; for there are too few places on this 
 globe where the mind can find rest from the 
 excitement of the world's cares. 
 
 There was possibly too much longevity in 
 East Looe. The healthful atmosphere and 
 model way of living had combined to produce
 
 INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 families of many generations; and though a 
 doctor was numbered among its inhabitants, 
 his ability to exist was best known to himself; 
 for his services were rarely in demand, and 
 then only when the generations were added to. 
 
 The old fishermen, whose advanced age pre- 
 cluded them from following the arduous occu- 
 pation of dragging the seines, could be daily 
 seen lounging around the cliffs with telescopes 
 in hand, at intervals scanning the ocean, osten- 
 sibly in search of schools of fish, to which their 
 offices were relegated ; but in reality to witness 
 some passing vessel, and to dream of days long 
 floated by. 
 
 Beyond the cliffs, approached by a serpen- 
 tine road which led through an extensive lawn 
 dotted with clumps of rhododendron and 
 other flowering shrubs, stood the old manor- 
 house of Croyden, bounded on one side by a 
 pretentious bit of woodland, which contained 
 a rookery, without which no country residence 
 was considered complete. Stretching far into 
 the background was the entailed estate of 
 Croyden, comprising many acres of rich farm- 
 lands, with the appurtenances thereto belong- 
 ing; the contiguity of which estate formed 
 the nucleus of the village, as indeed is the
 
 x INTRODUCTION 
 
 proximity of similar manors the creation of all 
 the other towns and villages on the coast. 
 
 In the year 1867 the very reverend rector 
 of the old parish church of East Looe died. 
 He was found dead in an arm-chair in his 
 library by his aged house-keeper. He had not 
 complained of sickness, and consequently the 
 doctor had not attended upon him ; indeed, but 
 a few hours previous he had been seen totter- 
 ing about the churchyard, his long, hoary locks 
 playfully fondled by the sea breezes; he had 
 spoken to one of his parishioners, placing 
 his hand to his ear, and exclaiming, " I am 
 deaf," as was his usual custom. He died of 
 the disease peculiar to East Looe, which is 
 made less shocking to Christian ears by the 
 coroner's established verdict in such cases, viz., 
 " Died by the visitation of God." 
 
 The old rector was buried in one of the aisles 
 of the ancient church, by the side of his wife, 
 who had not long preceded him; and a plain 
 slab, giving his name and age, covers his grave.
 
 The Baronet Rag-Picker 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A FEW INTRODUCTIONS 
 
 IT was several months after the death 
 of the old rector of East Looe before his 
 successor was appointed, and then ac- 
 cording to no law but that which is com- 
 monly termed hap-hazard, the choice fell 
 upon my honoured father, the Reverend Rob- 
 ert Gardner, who, up to that period, had been 
 vicar at Ware. It transpired that my father 
 had not even a speaking acquaintance with Sir 
 Anthony Croyden, the ancestral owner of the 
 manor of Croyden aforesaid, to whose choice 
 the preferment belonged. 
 
 I was surprised, therefore, to receive word at 
 my lodging in Lincoln's Inn Fields, London, 
 from which bulwark of the nation's laws I 
 had recently received an official document en- 
 grossed on parchment, making known to all 
 whom it might concern, that Edmund Keith 
 Gardner had passed a successful examination,
 
 2 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 entitling him to expound the laws in any part 
 of her Majesty's dominions; that the home 
 of my boyhood had been translated into East 
 Looe, and that a hearty welcome awaited me 
 there. 
 
 After all the long months of study, with its 
 attendant headaches and fear for the result 
 (for passing a law-examination is no sinecure) 
 I, Edmund Keith Gardner, had obtained that 
 glorious Charter, and now I felt limp and help- 
 less; a lassitude created by long days and 
 nights of constant poring over musty lore had 
 crept into my bones, and not being likely to 
 have even an hap-hazard call, as sometimes 
 falls to the lot of the clergy, I was glad to 
 pack my few belongings, including my pre- 
 cious parchment, and take train for East Looe. 
 
 I had not deemed myself of sufficient im- 
 portance to notify my parents of my coming, 
 so I was permitted to walk from the station 
 along the road leading past the old manor, 
 through the narrow street of East Looe, which 
 also led into the churchyard; and from there 
 I made an ignominious entry into the rectory 
 hall by tumbling over a pile of books which 
 had been deposited on the floor to await final 
 disposition.
 
 My next step was to embrace my parents, 
 who appeared begrimed with dirt, for they 
 were both working vigorously on the new 
 broom theory. Having in a short time ex- 
 hausted all I had to relate, I took the keys of 
 the old church for the purpose of exploring it. 
 
 There is a quaint sameness about the external 
 appearance of these ancient churches with their 
 effigies, sun-dials, and for the most part un- 
 decipherable hieroglyphics; but the interior 
 usually comprehends something modern. 
 
 The old church of East Looe, however, 
 boasts of little that is not ancient; the aisles 
 contained tombs covered with slabs recording 
 the names of the tenants beneath; the marble 
 font in which the infant Looeite is baptised 
 is supposed to be a relic of Druidical times; 
 and the seats were old beyond the conception 
 of any of the inhabitants. Quaint inscrip- 
 tions over the Gothic arches had become par- 
 tially obliterated by the over-zealous use of 
 whitewash. The vestry contained, besides a 
 table and two chairs, a collection of broken- 
 backed Bibles, and on the table were three 
 books, representing the register of births, mar- 
 riages and deaths, respectively. 
 
 I opened the books in succession, and discov-
 
 4 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 ered that in all human probability the registers 
 would do service for many generations to 
 come. 
 
 In another day I had introduced myself to 
 the doctor; had turned the wheel for the spin- 
 ner at the rope-walk ; helped to caulk a boat at 
 the ship-yard; and became acquainted with all 
 the arts and sciences practised in the village. 
 
 On the third day, to make the notice of my 
 advent complete, I visited the manor-house. 
 
 I seem to have remembered this day beyond 
 any eventful cause for so doing; it has always 
 appeared clear, and the recollection brings a 
 happiness distinct from any other occasion. 
 
 As the mansion loomed in sight, I intuitively 
 felt the seclusion of the spot; a colony of rooks 
 were drowsily cawing from the rookery over- 
 head, otherwise there was no evidence of life. 
 
 I walked to the main porch, and raising the 
 huge knocker its fall resounded throughout 
 the long hall as though in remonstrance at 
 being disturbed after years of idleness; and 
 to make this impression more realistic, a white- 
 capped servant girl came around a corner of 
 the house to reconnoitre, and after scanning 
 me with a wondering look retreated on a run, 
 finally reappearing at the now open porch-
 
 A FEW INTRODUCTIONS 5 
 
 door, whose hinges manifested opposition by 
 creaking dismally. 
 
 I presented my card and was about to retire, 
 when a middle-aged lady, accompanied by a 
 beautiful girl, stepped from a room adjoining 
 the hallway, and taking the card, addressed me, 
 saying : 
 
 " Mr. Gardner, we heard indirectly of your 
 arrival, and we are very pleased to welcome 
 you to East Looe, and to the mansion, too, for 
 that matter. For private reasons, we have not 
 entertained for many years, but it does not 
 mean that everybody is not welcome to its hos- 
 pitality, nevertheless. It is lunch- time; will 
 you be good enough to join us? This is my 
 daughter, Caroline Croyden, Mr. Gardner." 
 
 The young lady gave a graceful bow, and 
 we entered the dining-room, and were instantly 
 joined by an old gentleman, whom the elder 
 lady addressed, saying: 
 
 " Father, this young gentleman is the rec- 
 tor's son, Edmund Keith Gardner, who intends 
 practising law;" then turning to me, she 
 said: 
 
 ' You are introduced to Sir Anthony 
 Croyden." 
 
 The old gentleman extended his hand and
 
 6 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 shook mine cordially, at the same time fixing 
 his eyes intently on mine, and saying : 
 
 " A lawyer, eh ! but you never intend putting 
 out your shingle in East Looe? " 
 
 " I have not quite gotten over the surprise 
 of having passed my examination," I answered, 
 " but I think well of settling down with my 
 parents, for a while at least." 
 
 " It will never do," commented the old 
 gentleman, " you are far too young to bury 
 yourself alive in this place. How old are 
 you? " 
 
 "Father!" remonstrated the lady. 
 
 :< Tut, tut, my dear," replied the old gentle- 
 man, " men, particularly young men, are never 
 any younger." 
 
 " I am twenty- four, Sir Anthony," I laugh- 
 ingly responded. 
 
 "Ah, poor George! just like my poor dear 
 George!" and excusing himself, Sir Anthony 
 walked away, leaving me with the ladies to 
 wonder who poor George might be. The elder 
 lady sat with downcast eyes, whilst her daugh- 
 ter put her arms lovingly around her mother's 
 neck. 
 
 After lunch I begged permission to with- 
 draw, and was invited to call at any time I felt
 
 A FEW INTRODUCTIONS 7 
 
 so disposed; that no ceremony was given or 
 required. 
 
 On returning homewards, I found myself, 
 for want of more strenuous occupation, deeply 
 in love with Caroline Croyden, and imagining 
 many vain things, besides building castles in 
 the air; but such impressions are innocent 
 enough and properly belong to the right- 
 minded youth ; for if it stultifies the growth of 
 high business aspirations, it also prevents un- 
 holy thoughts from entering and taking 
 possession.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 MAKING A STAET 
 
 I HAD been a resident of East Looe 
 exactly one week, and had made myself 
 familiar with all the delightful walks in 
 the neighbourhood, as well as with the 
 bays and coves in the vicinity, and at last 
 decided to make a start in my profession; for 
 however much I had built castles in the air of 
 becoming great in expounding the law, I dis- 
 covered that dreaming was no way to accom- 
 plish it; and that if I succeeded even in a 
 moderate degree, I would have to study and 
 practise harder than during the period when 
 I was articled. 
 
 To carry out this laudable determination, 
 therefore, I rented a small building located on 
 the heights overlooking the sea, which I discov- 
 ered had been used at one period of its history 
 as a Bryanite chapel; and at all times as a 
 temporary resting place, when the sea gave up 
 her dead.
 
 MAKING A START 9 
 
 Having obtained possession of this uncanny 
 place, I immediately set at work to make it 
 suitable as a place of study. 
 
 I first had the flooring and other woodwork 
 well scrubbed, and the walls papered; then I 
 furnished it with a ponderous table and two 
 chairs, and spread a few rush mats around the 
 floor. 
 
 I piled my law books on one end of the table 
 so as to make the place look as formidable as 
 possible, and put a sign in the window, " Ed- 
 mund Keith Gardner, Attorney-at-law, Deeds 
 and Wills a Specialty, Hours 10 A. M. till 
 6 P. M." 
 
 Providing myself with several reams of 
 paper, I sat down the first day my office was 
 fit for occupancy, determined to make myself 
 heard from, if not to become great. 
 
 I had as constant companion a large w r ater- 
 spaniel, and it stretched itself with a sigh on 
 one of the mats, and watched me intently from 
 under its bushy eyebrows, playing a tattoo on 
 the floor with its tail, whenever at long inter- 
 vals I favoured it with a glance. 
 
 I have often thought since that the dog 
 instinctively felt, from his knowledge of my 
 peregrinations, that my present devotion to
 
 10 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 work was only temporary, for its eyes carried 
 a comical expression whenever I gazed upon it, 
 and its tattoo seemed to indicate, " Keep on, 
 old fellow, the sooner it is over the better for 
 both." 
 
 The first day I wrote unceasingly, making 
 a draft of a lease ; the second day I wrote until 
 noon, when my fingers became cramped ; I had 
 overworked myself. 
 
 Dropping my pen I walked to the door, and 
 from there I strolled towards the cliff, my dog 
 running and barking joyously as if to say, 
 " This is better, this is more natural." 
 
 Reaching the edge of the cliff, I gazed 
 across the sea ; a few ships were scudding along 
 under a stiff breeze, and on the horizon the 
 smoke of a steamer was faintly visible. 
 
 Presently my gaze was attracted to an old 
 gentleman seated on one of the large rocks on 
 the shore immediately beneath the cliff on 
 which I stood; the depth at this point being 
 about forty feet. The tide was flowing and he 
 appeared to be contemplating the waves dash- 
 ing against the rock on which he sat; finally 
 he arose and revealed the person of Sir An- 
 thony Croyden. 
 
 " Give up your dead ! George, my boy, come
 
 Give up your dead! George, my boy, come back to me"
 
 MAKING A START 11 
 
 back to me! " shouted the old man; then lifting 
 his hat and placing his hand on his temples, he 
 tottered across the slippery rocks along the 
 shimmering pebbly beach, and ascending a 
 beaten path to the cliff above, he proceeded on 
 his way to the mansion. 
 
 I returned to my office in a thoughtful 
 mood; I tried to resume my work, but I had 
 lost all interest in it. The apparition on the 
 rock had opened up something more real to me 
 than the morbid study of law, something that 
 suited my present unsettled state of mind. 
 
 I was thinking over the old man's cry, " Give 
 up your dead! " when I was startled by the cry, 
 "rags and bones!" and at the same moment a 
 stalwart individual passed the window, having 
 two granary sacks thrown over his shoulders. 
 I went to the door and gazed after his retreat- 
 ing figure. 
 
 Resuming my seat, my thoughts merged 
 from "Give up your dead!" to "rags and 
 bones ! " and became so commingled that I fell 
 into a doze, to be aroused long after my usual 
 quitting time by my father shaking me and 
 saying, " Edmund, you are evidently over- 
 doing your studies ; there is time for all things 
 under the sun."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AN INDIFFERENT PROFESSION 
 
 THERE were few things in the nat- 
 ural course of events to disturb the 
 equanimity of East Looe; occasion- 
 ally a ship would be wrecked on its 
 treacherous rocks, or the body of a drowned 
 sailor would be found washed on the beach, 
 but by far the most engrossing topics the 
 inhabitants had indulged in for many a 
 decade were the sermons of the new rector, 
 how the young lawyer would obtain a liveli- 
 hood, and who the individual who plied the 
 calling of rags and bones collector might be. 
 
 Now it appeared that the individual desig- 
 nated as " Rags and Bones " had made his ad- 
 vent on the day of my arrival, and failing to 
 get any satisfaction from the strange visitor, 
 the doctor and several others had appealed to 
 me for a solution of his presence, which I was 
 unable to gratify. All that could be discov- 
 ered was that " Rags and Bones " had entered 
 
 13
 
 INDIFFERENT PROFESSION 13 
 
 the village and invaded its narrow streets, 
 vociferating at intervals the burden of his 
 song, adding occasionally, as though to relieve 
 the monotony, " and doctors' bottles." 
 
 */ ' 
 
 Although collectors of rags and bones are 
 familiar objects in all towns of any appre- 
 ciable size, East Looe had never before in its 
 history harboured such a character within its 
 precincts; consequently the presence of the 
 present individual occasioned no small amount 
 of gossip, especially in view of his taciturnity. 
 
 It was several weeks before the inhabitants 
 of East Looe recovered from the surprise of 
 this innovation, but they gradually became 
 accustomed to the call of " rags and bones " ; 
 and its owner became a familiar object to the 
 villagers, w r ho took scrupulous care to lay 
 aside cast-off clothing for the new resident, 
 for resident he became, having selected a small 
 cottage above the cliffs. Here during the time 
 that he was not engaged in collecting rags 
 and bones, he devoted himself to the cultiva- 
 tion of the little garden attached to the cot- 
 tage, and the flowers not only grew in abun- 
 dance therein, but seemed fresher than else- 
 where in the village. 
 
 In most towns the character of such a
 
 14 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 strange individual, with such a calling, would 
 have been investigated, but the assurance of 
 the man saved him any interference. 
 
 On being asked his name by the bailiff, he 
 answered, "Your rent will be anticipated"; 
 after this no person had the temerity to ques- 
 tion him concerning his antecedents, so he was 
 named after his calling, " Rags and Bones." 
 
 Occasionally Rags and Bones would be 
 found walking among the rocks at the foot of 
 the cliff ; at other times he would be seen gaz- 
 ing at the waves beating the shore, and it was 
 rumoured among the gossips that a figure cor- 
 responding to his had been seen in the church- 
 yard lying among the graves during the 
 twilight hours; but the villagers, prone to 
 superstition, reconciled themselves to the 
 belief that the churchyard was haunted. 
 
 It was significant that Rags and Bones 
 never called at the mansion to ply his calling, 
 although he was frequently seen walking in its 
 vicinity and gazing across the lawn. 
 
 One day Rags and Bones was discovered by 
 Sir Anthony Croyden occupied in looking 
 across the lawn, and with his granary sacks 
 thrown carelessly across his shoulders, when 
 the old gentleman addressed him, saying:
 
 INDIFFERENT PROFESSION 15 
 
 " Come with me, man," and leading him 
 around the mansion, pointed to a lot of bones 
 scattered around the dog-kennels, saying: 
 " You can collect all these bones." 
 
 Rags and Bones set to work assiduously, and 
 gathered the bones together in heaps, and then 
 put them in the bags. 
 
 The old gentleman stood and watched him, 
 and chuckled: " Rags and bones, eh, a very in- 
 different calling, but I suppose somebody must 
 collect them. Where did you come from? " 
 
 Rags and Bones looked at the old man curi- 
 ously for a moment without answering; then 
 placing the bags on his shoulders, he walked 
 away. 
 
 Sir Anthony watched his retiring figure, 
 remarking : " Big fellow, fine form, but a great 
 villain, I've no doubt."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE RESCUE 
 
 THE days and weeks were flying 
 swiftly by, but no client put in an 
 appearance, and will-making was 
 usually neglected until the breath 
 was about to leave the body; it was strictly 
 an ante-mortem affair in East Looe, for 
 there was a feeling prevalent among the in- 
 habitants that if a man made his will in the 
 blossom of health, he was likely soon to be in 
 the paleness of death; it was perfectly clear, 
 however, that those who made their wills 
 around the vicinity of East Looe died very 
 soon after for the reason set forth. 
 
 I had exhausted whole reams of paper draft- 
 ing forms of deeds and wills, which in all prob- 
 ability would never be in requisition, and at last 
 I began to feel that I was useless to the world, 
 and looked upon the parchment I was once so 
 proud of as a fraud and a failure. 
 
 I began to absent myself from the office, 
 and spent my time in wandering aimlessly 
 
 16
 
 THE RESCUE 17 
 
 about the shore; first I put up a notice that I 
 would be back at a certain time, and took the 
 precaution to lock the door; finally I omitted 
 the notice, and left the door unlocked. 
 
 How long this condition of affairs would 
 have lasted in the ordinary course of events, it 
 is difficult to state, but what the resultant 
 effect on my subsequent career would have 
 been is not hard to conjecture were it not that 
 my guardian angel, whoever he or she might 
 be, had ordained otherwise and created a turn- 
 ing point in my life. 
 
 I have already related that the antiquated 
 fishermen of East Looe were in the habit of 
 lounging around the cliffs, telescoping the sea. 
 On this particular day, which was delightful, 
 the air being filled with the sweet perfume of 
 myriads of wild-flowers, the old fishermen were 
 out in force. 
 
 I had visited the mansion on the previous 
 evening, as had gotten to be my habitual cus- 
 tom, and had been introduced to a nephew of 
 Sir Anthony Croyden, Newton Bramble, a 
 young man a few years my senior, who had 
 come from Middlesex on a visit. His ungen- 
 erous shake of the hand at our introduction, 
 and his reticence afterwards, were so notice-
 
 18 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 able that I took a dislike to him from the start. 
 Caroline had informed me that her mother 
 and herself were to go a-boating with this 
 nephew on the following day at his invitation, 
 and Caroline regretted that I was unable to 
 accompany them, for I had foolishly resolved 
 to avoid the nephew's society. 
 
 During the afternoon of that day I kept to 
 my office, leaving the door open so that the sea- 
 breezes might enter. I was deploring my 
 seemingly idle life, and thinking of Caroline, 
 when suddenly it seemed as though all the fish- 
 horns in East Looe were on the rampage. 
 
 My dog barked, and springing to its feet, 
 scampered across to where the old fishermen 
 had now congregated. Realising that some- 
 thing unusual had occurred, I threw off my 
 coat, and ran with all my might towards the 
 cliff, and as I sped, a form rushed by me, bare- 
 footed and hatless, with the speed of the roe, 
 and reaching the edge of the precipice, 
 bounded forward with a mighty spring and 
 descended like a meteor among the rocks and 
 surf sixty feet below, to his death I thought, 
 for I felt that no man could plunge from such 
 a dizzy height among such treacherous rocks 
 without being mangled to pieces.
 
 THE RESCUE 19 
 
 A few hundred feet from shore I espied a 
 capsized boat, and, horror of horrors! two 
 female forms were at the mercy of the 
 waves. 
 
 The fishing-boats were moored on the lee 
 shore; time would not admit of delay, and 
 feeling that the lives of those in the waves 
 depended on my own safety, I slid bodily down 
 the cliff, catching at a jagged rock here and 
 there, and finally about midway, shot out, land- 
 ing on a promontory locally known as the 
 "Black Rock"; and from thence I bounded 
 into the sea, twenty feet below. 
 
 Rising to the surface I saw that the two 
 females were still afloat, and with heart beat- 
 ing frantically with excitement, I skimmed 
 the waters; but fast as I sped, there was an 
 object before me which swam with the speed 
 of an otter; there was not a ripple to indicate 
 his motion, but that dark head sped on and 
 finally reached the scene. 
 
 The time seemed ages to me before I did 
 likewise, and there I found Caroline Croyden 
 with her arms folded around my dog's neck; 
 I interposed my body and supported her, and 
 at the same moment looking for the safety of 
 her mother, I discovered her supported on the
 
 20 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 bosom of Rags and Bones, who was making 
 for the shore, from which numerous boats were 
 now advancing. 
 
 Newton Bramble, who had been clinging to 
 the capsized boat without attempting to ren- 
 der aid, seeing that the ladies were saved, pro- 
 ceeded to swim to shore. 
 
 The rescued were escorted to the rectory by 
 my father, who had also been attracted by the 
 unusual commotion, and from thence they 
 were finally driven to the mansion, very little 
 the worse for their immersion. 
 
 The little doctor had attended the ladies at 
 the rectory, but finding his services unneces- 
 sary, called at my office, where Rags and 
 Bones and myself had retired to collect 
 ourselves. 
 
 The doctor placed his hand on the shoulder 
 of the man who had risked his life so recklessly, 
 and said: "Nature's nobleman." 
 
 Rags and Bones arose from his chair, and 
 looking at me, and at the same time pointing 
 to himself, said: "I am simply Rags and 
 Bones "; then he left the office. 
 
 " Strange character," said the doctor. 
 
 " It's a strange case," I replied; " I fully ex- 
 pected to find his body mutilated on the rocks ;
 
 THE RESCUE 21 
 
 no stranger to this coast could have avoided 
 certain death." 
 
 " It came near clearing out the entire fam- 
 ily, and that would have meant a change of 
 title," continued the doctor; " I remember well 
 the last sad case." 
 
 " Will you kindly relate it? " I asked. 
 
 " Certainly. I had almost forgotten the 
 only thing important to talk about in East 
 Looe. It occurred some eighteen years ago. 
 Sir Anthony had an only son, George by name. 
 He was a clever sort of youth as youths go, 
 and was well liked by everybody in the village. 
 All the pretty girls had a smile for him, and he 
 returned the compliment, even to smiling on 
 Madge Morrill, the gipsy; but there was 
 nothing bad about George, he loved them all 
 simply because he was an affectionate fellow. 
 
 " Our rector, at that time, had an only 
 daughter, Catherine Penistan, who was the 
 pride of the village. George fell in love with 
 her, and of course it was returned four-fold, 
 as women are apt to do ; but Sir Anthony for- 
 bade the match, on the ground that it was a de- 
 parture from the old custom of his ancestors 
 for the heir to marry outside of a title. The 
 girl's father, not wishing to be a party to any
 
 22 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 disagreement, tried to persuade George to 
 break the engagement, but finally married 
 them. Sir Anthony thereupon denied George 
 the shelter of the paternal roof, and as a result 
 the couple lived at the rectory. 
 
 "And now the mysterious part of the affair 
 comes in. George and his wife lived like two 
 turtle doves together, regardless of the old 
 gentleman's ire, when suddenly George dis- 
 appeared. There was evidence pointing to his 
 having been drowned, but his body was never 
 discovered. The facts leading up to the sup- 
 position are, that on the day following 
 George's disappearance the body of a well- 
 dressed stranger was found on the shore, and 
 papers found on the body indicated that 
 George had been drowned. The vestry had 
 been broken into, and the page containing the 
 certificate of George's marriage torn from the 
 register; and it was conjectured that George 
 had discovered the theft, and in attempting to 
 arrest the robber, both lost their lives. 
 
 ' The ill-news was broken to George's wife, 
 who took it so to heart that it was inferred she 
 tried to drown herself. She was found on the 
 beach in an unconscious -condition, and for a 
 long time she was looked upon as dead; but
 
 THE RESCUE 23 
 
 she recovered, and after a few weeks a daugh- 
 ter was born, and the mother's sorrow became 
 modified in caring for her child. 
 
 " Catherine continued to live with her father 
 at the rectory for several months, until after 
 the death of Lady Croyden, when Sir An- 
 thony succeeded in persuading her that it was 
 for her advantage to reside with him at the 
 mansion; and they appear to have lived very 
 happily. 
 
 " I am very glad that the accident to-day was 
 so splendidly manoeuvred; it might have been 
 the most deplorable event that ever happened 
 in East Looe." 
 
 " I hope Rags and Bones will not be stub- 
 born, and refuse any pecuniary assistance Sir 
 Anthony will certainly offer, but I feel that 
 he will decline," I commented. 
 
 " So do I," replied the little doctor, and then 
 he left me.
 
 COURTSHIP AND DEATH 
 
 FOR several days after the rescue I 
 had seen nothing of the inmates of 
 the mansion, and I had again set- 
 tled down to study, at intervals 
 seriously contemplating the advisability of 
 starting over again in some large town, 
 when one day a knock came at my office 
 door, followed by the entrance of Caroline 
 Croyden. Her face was suffused with smiles, 
 and extending her hand, she said : 
 
 " Mr. Gardner, this is the first time I have 
 felt like facing the world again, for I am very 
 much ashamed of the trouble we caused. How 
 can I thank you for your bravery? " and turn- 
 ing to my dog, which lay on the mat, she 
 stooped beside it, and patted it, saying : " And 
 you, you dear doggie, how can I talk to you, 
 you are so sensible? " 
 
 I made no answer, but gazed at the dear girl 
 before me, content to hear her talk. 
 
 84
 
 COURTSHIP AND DEATH 25 
 
 " Well, sir, are you going to scold me or to 
 make out a bill for damages? I will try to be 
 content with either or both." 
 
 " Miss Croyden, I have nothing to scold you 
 for," I replied, " and I have no bill for dam- 
 ages. To be candid with you, it looks as 
 though I would never make out a bill for any- 
 thing in this place." 
 
 Caroline looked disconcerted, and exclaimed : 
 " Oh, Mr. Gardner, I am so sorry to find you 
 disappointed in East Looe, but really, I sup- 
 pose there is nobody here who cares to dispute 
 the authority of the law; but is there nothing 
 else you can do? I observe that you are con- 
 siderable of an artist." 
 
 As I glanced at a few etchings I had ex- 
 ecuted during my leisure hours, and hung upon 
 the walls of my office, I carelessly remarked: 
 "Pictures would go a-begging too, I'm 
 afraid." 
 
 "Oh, sir, you make me feel very despondent ; 
 but I have a message for you from my grand- 
 father, inviting you to call upon him this even- 
 ing; may we hope to see you? " 
 
 "Thank you; yes, I will be pleased to 
 call." 
 
 " I am so glad, for you haven't called of late.
 
 26 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 And now, sir, I thank you a thousa nd times for 
 rescuing me from a watery grave. You are 
 so brave that I feel ashamed of my unimport- 
 ance in the world." 
 
 " You have nothing to be ashamed of, Miss 
 Croyden. May I ask if Newton Bramble is 
 still at the mansion? " 
 
 " Newton left the day after our marvellous 
 escape, and without making a reasonable apol- 
 ogy or expressing regret. Mamma is dis- 
 appointed in him." 
 
 " I am glad of it," I hastily remarked, un- 
 able to hide my dislike and the suspicion I had 
 formed concerning the accident. 
 
 Caroline looked at me keenly for a moment, 
 and finally remarked: "You don't like my 
 cousin? " 
 
 " No, I took an intuitive dislike to him from 
 the date of his introduction," I replied. 
 
 " I am sorry," said Caroline. " Are you 
 very busy this afternoon, Mr. Gardner? " 
 
 "No, indeed," I responded; "on the con- 
 trary, I am simply wondering how to fill in the 
 time." 
 
 " Will you accompany me homewards? " 
 
 " Most willingly." 
 
 We wended our steps towards the mansion.
 
 COURTSHIP AND DEATH 27 
 
 After we had gone a short distance, Caro- 
 line, after some little hesitation, said : 
 
 " Mr. Gardner, I trust you will not consider 
 it a liberty if I beg you not to ignore any 
 recognition my grandfather may make to you 
 this evening ; we all feel so very much indebted 
 to you that something besides the mere kindly 
 feeling must be displayed, and if it comes in 
 the nature of employment in your legal capac- 
 ity, you might get to like East Looe. You 
 must not think that I have been instrumental in 
 suggesting anything for your benefit because 
 you rescued me, because I know that no reward 
 could be a substitute for your own happiness 
 in so doing." 
 
 " I shall always like East Looe, Miss Croy- 
 den, because your name is associated with 
 it, and I will welcome anything that is 
 likely to extend the opportunity to be near 
 
 you." 
 
 If Caroline understood the meaning of my 
 little speech she did not betray it, for she made 
 some remark about the beautiful sky, and as 
 quickly turned her eyes to the earth, expatia- 
 ting on the profusion of flowers which dotted 
 the sward. 
 
 I plucked a few flowers and presented them
 
 28 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 to her, and she acknowledged the act by bow- 
 ing and saying they were very pretty. 
 
 Reaching the entrance to the lawn, I thanked 
 her for the agreeable change the walk afforded, 
 and returned to my office. 
 
 That evening I called at the mansion and 
 was gladly welcomed. 
 
 After discussing the accident briefly, Sir An- 
 thony Croyden inquired how I was prospering 
 in my profession. 
 
 I answered that my experience had been so 
 unsatisfactory that I contemplated quitting 
 the district as soon as I could discover a desir- 
 able place to start over again. 
 
 " Ah, my dear boy," responded the old 
 gentleman, "it is easier to build castles in the 
 air than to realise a hut. I have been think- 
 ing upon a plan to keep you out of mischief 
 and to make you satisfied with East Looe. 
 The deep obligation I am under to you in sav- 
 ing my granddaughter's life demands that I 
 should make an effort in your behalf; there- 
 fore I have directed my butler to conrey to 
 your office two cases of deeds and other docu- 
 ments appertaining to the Croyden estate, 
 which I want you to make abstracts of so that 
 those who come after me may better under-
 
 COURTSHIP AND DEATH 29 
 
 stand the nature thereof. I also appoint you 
 my land-agent. A yearly income will be paid 
 to you sufficient for your present needs, and 
 you will be ever welcome here." 
 
 I thanked Sir Anthony, and after spending 
 a short time with the ladies, started for my 
 office with a lighter heart than I had carried for 
 many weeks. " Now," thought I, " my castles 
 are materialising." 
 
 The following day a cart arrived, and the 
 driver deposited two large tin boxes in my 
 office. I immediately set to work examining 
 their contents. 
 
 Many of the deeds were so old that the 
 parchment had broken badly at the folds, and 
 the large wax pendant seals were for similar 
 reasons encased in tin receptacles so that they 
 might not be totally dismembered. 
 
 I listed all the deeds, and put the documents 
 in separate files according to their nature; and 
 now I had left an olla-podrida of memoran- 
 dums and letters, some of them yellow with 
 age. 
 
 Among these papers I found a package 
 which mystified me. In place of the usual 
 strap used for securing packages, it was fas- 
 tened with a chain, the ends thereof having
 
 30 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 ribbons attached which formed the knot; the 
 papers in this package contained memoran- 
 dums which appeared to have no reference to 
 Sir Anthony Croyden or to the estates. On 
 the back of an envelope was written in pencil 
 the words, " The person who attacked me is 
 drowned." 
 
 After carefully perusing the contents of the 
 package, I laid it in one of the boxes, intending 
 to bring the matter up for elucidation later. 
 
 I had now been engaged about two weeks 
 on the contents of the tin boxes, when word 
 was brought to me that Sir Anthony, who had 
 been ailing for some time, was confined to his 
 bed, very ill. 
 
 I hastened to the mansion, and conferred 
 with the little doctor who was in attendance; 
 he stated that Sir Ajithony's condition was 
 critical, and that the patient was nearing his 
 end. 
 
 The old baronet knew that his time was 
 near, and was deeply troubled. At times he 
 would call mournfully, " George, my son, come 
 back to me. Waves, give up your dead." On 
 such occasions it was sad to witness him. 
 
 I was present for a short time at the old 
 man's bedside, at his earnest request, and he
 
 COURTSHIP AND DEATH 31 
 
 looked sadly at me, asking if I thought his son 
 George would come. I pressed his hand, say- 
 ing, "He may come, Sir Anthony;" but of 
 course I felt that the wish was vain. 
 
 Toward the early evening the invalid sank 
 into a slumber, and I left the mansion, promis- 
 ing to return to renew my watch in the 
 evening. 
 
 When I returned to the sick man's bedside, 
 I found Catherine and her daughter and the 
 doctor present. The old baronet lay propped 
 up by the pillows, his face wearing a death- 
 like appearance, yet his eyes were eager. 
 
 " His mind has been wandering," the doctor 
 stated. 
 
 As soon as the old man's anxious eyes 
 detected me, he beckoned me to him with his 
 trembling hand, and cried excitedly, " My son, 
 
 George, Rags and Bones, Rags ." His 
 
 voice became inaudible, and his head slid gently 
 down the pillows. 
 
 I raised him in my arms, but the poor old 
 baronet's last breath had gone out in the effort 
 of calling Rags and Bones.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 A WRIT FROM THE COURT OF CHANCERY 
 
 THE funeral obsequies were per- 
 formed within a few days after Sir 
 Anthony Croyden's death, and his 
 remains were deposited in the family 
 mausoleum, built on a mound overlooking the 
 sea. There was a large attendance of distant 
 relatives, and the entire village turned out to 
 witness the ceremony. 
 
 The coffin was taken from the mansion to 
 the church by pallbearers, comprising old men 
 of the village, and from the church to its final 
 resting place. 
 
 Among those present was Rags and Bones. 
 He was clothed in a new suit of mourning, and 
 was by far the most conspicuous figure pres- 
 ent. He stood bare-headed in such a position 
 that he could see the coffin and the figures of 
 Catherine Croyden and her daughter, who 
 were both closely veiled; but his gaze was riv- 
 
 33
 
 A WRIT FROM CHANCERY 33 
 
 eted on the coffin, and, when at last the iron 
 gate of the mausoleum was closed, and the 
 mourners had departed, he was seen to loiter 
 around the spot. When, later in the day, I 
 strolled to the place, I found Rags and Bones 
 had clambered over the railings, and was seated 
 in front of the locked door. I asked him if 
 he would be good enough to stop at my office 
 on the morrow, that I had a sum of money in 
 trust for him from the dead squire, and his 
 answer came, " I will call to-morrow." 
 
 On the following day I was busily engaged 
 in reading the late Sir Anthony Croyden's 
 will, preparatory to getting it engrossed for 
 probate; it was not different from the usual 
 form of wills, saving that there were several 
 codicils. 
 
 The estate being entailed, the will contained 
 bequests and disposition of such parts of his 
 personal estate as the testator desired should 
 be given to his relatives, who would not benefit 
 through the entailment, and it was these be- 
 quests which I was listing so that Catherine 
 Croyden, who was appointed sole executrix, 
 and to whom most of the personal property 
 was bequeathed, might have no difficulty in 
 comprehending them. Her daughter, Caro-
 
 34 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 line, would eventually come into possession of 
 the estate. 
 
 About noon-time I was interrupted by the 
 arrival of Rags and Bones. I read to him that 
 portion of Sir Anthony's will which referred to 
 him, viz., " I give and bequeath unto the char- 
 acter locally known in East Looe as Rags and 
 Bones, the sum of one hundred pounds and a 
 further annuity of sixty pounds, payable 
 monthly, together with the free rent of the 
 cottage which he now occupies as long as he 
 shall live, as a recognition of his bravery in 
 rescuing my daughter, Catherine Croyden, 
 from drowning." 
 
 As soon as I had read the bequests to him, 
 Rags and Bones stated that he would take 
 nothing for doing what it was every man's 
 obvious duty to perform. He could not be 
 prevailed upon to continue any conversation, 
 and I soon discovered for the second time that 
 it was a hopeless task to attempt it. 
 
 After several days I had engrossed the will 
 for probating, and prepared the necessary affi- 
 davits for Catherine Croyden's signature, and 
 had decided to complete the matter without 
 further delay, when my office door was gently 
 opened and Caroline Croyden entered. She had
 
 A WRIT FROM CHANCERY 35 
 
 raised her veil, and her face revealed a troubled 
 look, removed from the natural sorrow attend- 
 ing her grandfather's death. She bade me 
 " Good-morning," took the proffered chair, 
 and then unfolded a piece of paper which she 
 carried in her hand, and placed it before me, 
 saying : 
 
 " Mr. Gardner, mamma was called upon this 
 morning by a horrid man, who insisted upon 
 seeing her personally, and who, after reading 
 from a slip of parchment, presented her with 
 this paper, which he stated was a true copy. 
 She can't understand what the Queen wants of 
 her, and has sent me to obtain your solution 
 of it." 
 
 One glance was sufficient to show me that 
 it was a writ from the Court of Chancery, 
 issued at the instance of Newton Bramble, he 
 being the son of Sir Anthony Croyden's sis- 
 ter, and the next of kin, provided there was no 
 child from the marriage of George Croyden. 
 I realised that the right of Caroline's succes- 
 sion to the estate of Croyden was to be con- 
 tested, and by no other a scoundrel than her 
 cousin, Newton Bramble, who had courted her 
 without success, and possibly done something 
 worse in the hope of getting possession of the
 
 36 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 estate. Failing in this he had applied to the 
 Court of Chancery. 
 
 I looked at the young girl before me, whom 
 I had secretly learnt to love with a desperation 
 beyond that given by those whose love is ac- 
 cepted. I determined then that an important 
 case was at last opened for me, and that I 
 would make the grand effort of my life. 
 
 Not wishing to increase Caroline's fears by 
 explaining the nature of the writ, I begged 
 leave to accompany her back to the mansion so 
 that I could explain matters to her mother. 
 
 I found Catherine Croyden in the library, 
 and, as she desired that her daughter should 
 know the worst, I explained matters, telling 
 her that as there were but three w r eeks to pre- 
 pare a defence, it was expedient for me to 
 go into the matter at once, if she was will- 
 ing to trust such an important case in my 
 hands. 
 
 Catherine Croyden answered, " I know of 
 nobody else who could undertake it so well, 
 and, since you saved my daughter's life, I feel 
 that you are the one who could save her patri- 
 mony if it can be saved at all." 
 
 I explained how it would be necessary for 
 me to get at some important information only
 
 obtainable through asking her pertinent ques- 
 tions concerning her marriage; and although 
 those questions would revive sorrowful mem- 
 ories, it would be useless to proceed with a 
 brief without it; consequently it was arranged 
 for me to call on the morrow, prepared with a 
 list of questions which I might upon mature 
 consideration deem necessary. 
 
 I thereupon left the mansion and proceeded 
 to my office, where I occupied myself until a 
 late hour in framing a list of questions, for it 
 was impossible, with no knowledge of what the 
 plea might be on the part of the claimant, to 
 anticipate the requirements of the defence. 
 It might be possible to procure sufficient evi- 
 dence in the preliminary trial to quash all 
 further proceedings, or, it was likely, as was 
 usually the case, that the trial would be con- 
 tinued interminably until the estate would be 
 swallowed up in law costs, or the litigants had 
 died. 
 
 Caroline appeared at my office on the fol- 
 lowing morning with a bouquet of flowers as 
 had become her custom since her rescue ; it was 
 all I would allow her to do, she said, and I had 
 told her truly that a single flower from her 
 hands was of more value to me than all the
 
 38 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 world. Caroline laughed at this statement at 
 the time, and on all subsequent occasions would 
 say, " I have brought a bunch of worlds." On 
 this particular morning, pointing to a beauti- 
 ful pink rose, she said, " Isn't this a perfect 
 colour, Mr. Gardner?" 
 
 " It is like your cheeks, my dear," I replied, 
 and growing suddenly audacious, I bent over 
 and kissed her; at the same moment my heart 
 fluttered within me, and I felt annoyed and 
 ashamed, for I was so much older than 
 Caroline. 
 
 Caroline gasped a little, her face became 
 suffused with blushes, and she looked at me 
 intently and curiously, as though doubtful of 
 the propriety of the act. 
 
 I felt so mortified that I hardly dared to 
 look at her, but I finally mustered courage to 
 say, " Miss Croyden, I took the liberty of kiss- 
 ing you, because my heart longed to do so. I 
 promise to refrain from doing so again unless 
 your heart is favourable towards it." 
 
 Caroline did not reply, but evidently de- 
 sired to avoid the subject. She stooped and 
 patted my dog, saying, "Brave dog," then 
 arising and walking towards the door, she 
 asked, " Are you ready to go to the mansion? "
 
 A WRIT FROM CHANCERY 39 
 
 Taking the list I had prepared, we left the 
 office and proceeded on our way to the man- 
 sion. We talked of the blue sky, the birds and 
 the flowers, and my heart felt a void, for I 
 found how useless it was to think of love.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 CATHERINE CROYDEN's STORY 
 
 REACHING the mansion, we en- 
 tered the library, where Caroline's 
 mother immediately joined us, and 
 after making a few commonplace 
 remarks, requested me to proceed with the 
 business I had in hand. 
 
 " The questions will first refer to your mar- 
 riage," I said, thinking that she might desire 
 her daughter not to be present, but as she made 
 no comment, I continued, " You will excuse me 
 for all inquisitiveness, but the case is so impor- 
 tant it is necessary for me to be thoroughly 
 acquainted with all the details of your mar- 
 riage, and instead of propounding the ques- 
 tions I have prepared, it would be better for 
 you to relate those details as you know them; 
 then if necessary I can question you after- 
 wards." 
 
 Catherine Croyden related her story thus : 
 " I was the only child of the Reverend 
 
 40
 
 CATHERINE'S STORY 41 
 
 Howard Penistan, the rector of this parish. I 
 was educated and brought up entirely under 
 the supervision of my parents, and never hav- 
 ing gone far beyond East Looe, nor having 
 the desire to do so, my knowledge of the out- 
 side world is limited to the information gath- 
 ered from books. 
 
 " I was acquainted with most of the young 
 girls, in fact I might say, all the inhabitants of 
 the district, although beyond a friendly recog- 
 nition, I was never in their company for any 
 length of time, my predilections for study 
 making me something of a recluse. 
 
 " When I had reached my nineteenth year, 
 George Croyden, only son of Sir Anthony 
 Croyden, returned from college. I had met 
 him on several occasions at church during his 
 previous vacations, but our acquaintance was 
 slight. I was of a retiring disposition, whilst 
 George was always full of life and sunshine; 
 he likewise knew everybody in the village, and 
 chatted with nearly every girl he met. His 
 good nature extended to frequenting a gipsy 
 camp, which annually located in the neighbour- 
 hood, but, as I remarked, George was fond of 
 everybody, and I for one have no doubt that 
 his heart was as good as his face.
 
 42 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 " Coming in for a share of his attentions, I 
 had no idea that anything more serious was 
 likely to occur, but in course of time George 
 became more devoted; he left off gossiping 
 with the village girls, and made frequent visits 
 to the rectory, and with book in hand he would 
 sit under a tree in the glebe lands. He took 
 tea with us occasionally, and finally I discov- 
 ered that my heart was in his keeping, although 
 one day I was rudely shaken, for George hav- 
 ing neglected his visits to the gipsy camp, was 
 called upon when we were together in the gar- 
 den, by a buxom gipsy lass, who, without any 
 ceremony; exclaimed: 
 
 " George Croyden, are you not coming to 
 visit us again?-" 
 
 " George was confused beyond the power of 
 speech, but as I started to leave them, recov- 
 ered himself, and said, ' Catherine, don't go. 
 I am innocent of any wrong doing.' Then 
 turning to the gipsy, asked, ' Have I done 
 aught that is improper to you? ' 
 
 " ' No indeed, George,' the gipsy replied, 
 ' but I miss your face, it is different from that 
 of our men ; and I have a heart as well as this 
 one,' at the same time pointing at me. 
 
 ' Well,' answered George, ' you do me a
 
 1 have a heart as well as this one "
 
 CATHERINE'S STORY 43 
 
 great injustice; your visit will be misconstrued, 
 perhaps mar my life; please go home.' 
 
 ' The gipsy left, muttering something be- 
 tween her teeth, and George, very much 
 humbled, turned to me, and said : ' I suppose 
 I can go home also after this, but I had no 
 idea that my happy disposition towards every- 
 body was going to redound to my discom- 
 fiture.' 
 
 " I pacified him because I not only believed 
 him, but I loved him too well to cause him un- 
 happiness; but it came nevertheless, and from 
 an unexpected quarter, for Sir Anthony Croy- 
 den, on discovering that we were engaged, 
 visited my father, denounced all the ministers 
 alive and dead, and objected to our court- 
 ship. 
 
 " I tried to persuade George that ours was 
 but a youthful fancy, and that it was best to 
 comply with his father's wish, but he took me 
 in his strong arms and said, ' It is you or no- 
 body'; and after considerable persuasion, the 
 banns were called, and my father reluctantly 
 married us. 
 
 " Sir Anthony Croyden, on hearing of the 
 wedding, denied his son the shelter of his roof, 
 despite the pleadings of Lady Croyden, his
 
 44 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 wife, so we lived at the rectory. Our lives 
 were peaceful and happy, although George 
 was dejected over the action of his father. 
 
 " We lived thus happily together for a 
 period of six months, Lady Croyden driving 
 over frequently to visit us, and to assure us 
 each time of her never-failing devotion, and 
 of her solicitude for our welfare. 
 
 " One evening I missed George from the 
 rectory, something that had never happened 
 before since our marriage. I walked around 
 the glebe grounds calling tenderly for him; I 
 went into the churchyard, and finding the 
 church door open, I procured a lantern and 
 entered the old church. 
 
 " I ascended the spiral steps leading up into 
 the tower; the belfry ropes dangling through 
 the ceiling cast their shadows upon the floor; 
 ascending another flight, the huge clock ticked 
 heavily away the ever-fleeting time. I looked 
 among the old broken seats deposited in this 
 room, but only disturbed a colony of mice. 
 Ascending to the bell-room, the huge bells 
 hanging from their ponderous supports looked 
 like the bodies of decapitated Amazons, and it 
 being the hour of ten, the clock-bell rang out 
 the hour with such a clangour that it deafened
 
 45 
 
 me, and to this day I have associated its knell 
 with the loss of my husband. 
 
 " Another flight brought me to the leads on 
 top of the tower. I gazed around the little 
 village, but it was too dark to discern any form 
 of life. I could hear the soughing of the waves 
 as they swept the sandy beach. I waved my 
 lantern, in the hope that my husband might be 
 attracted by it and come home to me. 
 
 " I started to descend, and becoming ner- 
 vous at the lonesomeness of the spot; I sped 
 down the spiral steps regardless of my foot- 
 ing, many steps at a time. The bells seemed 
 to be clanging together, and their resonance 
 ran off into weird noises as though tossed 
 about by the wind. The big clock ticked right 
 up against the entrance as I passed, instead of 
 against the opposite wall, and as I rushed 
 "by the belfry the ropes seemed to be rattling 
 through the holes in the ceiling, and dancing 
 on the floor; as when they are pulled by the 
 ringers. 
 
 " I reached the ground floor, where many a 
 drowned sailor had been temporarily deposited 
 to await final identification and burial. I had 
 often witnessed those unhappy scenes, and they 
 were all crowded into my senses that night. I
 
 46 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 stood still with fright, peering into the dark- 
 ness beyond the meagre light shed by the 
 lantern; I heard sounds like drops of water 
 falling upon the granite floor; were they foot- 
 steps? I wondered. Finally I thought of 
 George, and recovering my equanimity I 
 walked boldly through the aisles, and over the 
 vaults which contained the bones of many a 
 forgotten knight. Reaching the pulpit, I 
 passed by the niches which contained the rusty 
 armour of knights who had fought during the 
 holy crusade; they appeared to be in motion, 
 and the knights seemed to inhabit them again 
 and frown upon me; yes, I was not mistaken, 
 for on passing by one niche, whose rusty 
 deposit had been secured by a cord to hold its 
 broken joints together, it fell with such a 
 crash that its echo resounded with a metallic 
 sound through the old gothic arches and over 
 the hollow vaults, losing itself among the bells 
 in the tower. One of the jointed hands 
 bounded to my feet as though to lay hold of 
 me; I dropped the lantern in my fright and 
 screamed and screamed again, until the awful 
 echoes mocking me, silenced me. I picked up 
 the lantern and flew into the vestry room, and 
 the night-air rustled the leaves of an open book
 
 CATHERINE'S STORY 47 
 
 upon the table; I looked up and saw that the 
 window was badly broken. I examined the 
 book; it was the register of marriages, and it 
 was open at the page corresponding to the 
 date of our marriage, and a leaf had been 
 abstracted. 
 
 " I, in some manner, connected the sacrilege 
 with my husband's disappearance. I imme- 
 diately dismissed my fright, and started to 
 leave the church, when a bat, attracted by the 
 light, entered the broken window and flickered 
 around the lantern and in my face. Forget- 
 ting the fallen armour, I fell over it, and the 
 lantern flew out of my hand, crashed upon the 
 stone floor, and became extinguished. I was 
 in total darkness. I tried to extricate myself 
 from the armour, but it became so entangled 
 in my skirts that I no sooner released one part 
 than another became fastened, and my fright 
 returned, for it seemed as though one of the 
 old knights was holding me back; I tried to 
 discern it in the darkness, but golden rings 
 would form before my eyes and flicker out. 
 Finally I rushed along dragging what adhered 
 to me, and it clanged along the floor until I 
 reached the churchyard, where I sank down 
 half dead with fright.
 
 48 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 " Again the thought of my missing husband 
 revived me, and dragging off the entangled 
 armour by main force, I ran to the mansion. 
 
 "Arriving thither I plied the huge knocker 
 so vigorously that the dogs howled with 
 alarm, and after waiting for what seemed an 
 interminable time, Sir Anthony Croyden put 
 his head out of a window and interrogated 
 me. 
 
 " I screamed in reply, ' Father, my dear hus- 
 band has been missing all night.' 
 
 " I was weakened with fright and worry over 
 my lost husband, and I fainted, for the next 
 thing I remember was discovering Lady Croy- 
 den's arms around me, and saying, * My poor, 
 dear girl, how could you treat her so; I will 
 certainly leave you, Anthony, if you don't 
 relent towards her.' 
 
 ' ' My poor George ! ' cried Sir Anthony, * I 
 intended forgiving him, and bringing him 
 back.' Then turning to the butler who was 
 present, he said : ' Arouse the servants and 
 begin a search along the shore. I will go with 
 you.' 
 
 " I remained at the mansion until the morn- 
 ing had fairly dawned, when I started towards 
 the cliffs to join the searchers. On the way I
 
 CATHERINE'S STORY 49 
 
 espied a female approaching, and as soon as 
 she came near I recognised Madge Merrill, the 
 gipsy girl; and without giving me a mo- 
 ment's preparation, she shouted: * George is 
 drowned ! ' 
 
 " I clasped my hands to my heart and 
 shrieked ' Murder ! ' I rushed to the cliffs with 
 the speed of the wind; without realising the 
 danger I slid down the precipice, striking on 
 the Black Rock, from whence I rolled into the 
 sea. 
 
 " I was observed by the searchers on the 
 beach, and was rescued, but being unconscious 
 I knew not of it until afterwards. 
 
 " I was taken for dead to the rectory, where 
 I was confined to my bed for several weeks 
 with a raging fever. When I recovered suf- 
 ficiently to bear the ill news, I learnt that the 
 body of an unknown man had been found on 
 the beach, and sufficient evidence to indicate 
 that my dear husband had been drowned, but 
 his body was never discovered. 
 
 ' The birth of my daughter, some time 
 afterwards, assisted me in supporting my deep 
 sorrow, but I never felt satisfied concerning 
 my dear George's death. 
 
 " George's parents grieved very greatly over
 
 50 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 their son's loss, and became greatly attached to 
 my daughter, but Lady Croyden did not long 
 survive the shock. 
 
 " After the death of his wife, Sir Anthony 
 pleaded so strongly that we come to the man- 
 sion to cheer his declining years, particularly 
 as my daughter would eventually come into 
 possession of the estate, that finally, coupled 
 by my father's persuasion, I came hither, and 
 we have been comparatively happy up to the 
 present time, when there is another occasion 
 for sorrow, and a Chancery suit gives rise for 
 fear. 
 
 ' You now know all," Catherine Croyden 
 said in conclusion. 
 
 "Not all," I answered. "Have you the 
 marriage certificate?" 
 
 " No," she replied, " I omitted to state that 
 the page taken from the register in the ves- 
 try room contained the certificate of our 
 marriage." 
 
 "Oh! dear me!" I incontinently uttered. 
 
 Catherine Croyden's story was graphic 
 enough, and I had no occasion, as far as I 
 could see, to ask but this one question concern- 
 ing her marriage certificate. 
 
 Her answer perturbed me, for I could see
 
 CATHERINE'S STORY 51 
 
 nothing but difficulty in the way of proving 
 Caroline's title. 
 
 The matter was so important that I thanked 
 her, and expressed my intention of retiring to 
 my office at once, to prepare a brief, but I was 
 persuaded to remain for lunch, after which I 
 was ensconced in my office.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 BEFORE THE TRIAL 
 
 I PONDERED over Catherine Croy- 
 den's story for several hours before I 
 resolved upon a plan of action. 
 The facts concerning her marriage, as 
 related by herself, were so evident, that a 
 jury would hardly question its veracity; then 
 too the marriage had finally been recognized 
 by Sir Anthony Croyden, but this important 
 witness was dead. 
 
 It seemed absolutely necessary, in order to 
 prove the title to the estate, that the marriage 
 certificate should be produced; even Catherine 
 Croyden's word would go no further than that 
 of any other sworn witness, in the high Court 
 of Chancery. 
 
 I finally stepped over to the church and 
 entered the vestry room. The marriage regis- 
 ter was kept in an unlocked chest. I turned 
 back to the date of George Croyden's mar- 
 riage, and discovered that the then officiating 
 
 52
 
 BEFORE THE TRIAL 53 
 
 rector, Catherine Croyden's father, had made 
 a note on the page immediately opposite the 
 missing one as follows: 
 
 "On March 10, 1849, the vestry window was dis- 
 covered broken, and the register, usually kept in an oak 
 chest, was found opened on the table in the vestry room, 
 with page No. 73 abstracted therefrom; this page con- 
 tained the certificate of marriage of George Croyden 
 with Catherine Penistan, dated September 14, 1848; and 
 was solemnised by the undersigned. 
 
 " HOWARD PENISTAN, Rector. 
 
 " And the witnesses to the marriage were 
 
 " HANNAH PENISTAN, wife of HOWARD PENISTAN. 
 
 " JOHN POLLOCK, Clerk. 
 " Who have subscribed their names hereto. 
 
 " On the morning following this discovery, the body of 
 a well-clothed man, a stranger, was found on the beach 
 east of the Black Rock; he had, to all appearance, died 
 after reaching the shore. 
 
 " Papers found on the body indicated his connection 
 with the robbery, but the certificate was not recovered. 
 
 " This record is made to substantiate the marriage, in 
 case proof thereof should ever become necessary. 
 
 " Signed, HOWARD PENISTAN, Rector." 
 
 The Reverend Howard Penistan, and both 
 the subscribing witnesses, were dead, and al-
 
 54 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 though the memorandum on the register in 
 the rector's own hand- writing might influence 
 the jury, still the prosecution could, and very 
 likely would, object to its introduction. 
 
 I resolved, however, to obtain my father's 
 permission to take the register along as an ex- 
 hibit on the day of trial. 
 
 I removed the deeds and other documents 
 relating to the estate from my office to the 
 rectory, as the safest place until the suit was 
 decided. 
 
 There was nothing further that I could do 
 but to think and plan until the day of trial. 
 
 After another perusal, I discovered that the 
 file of nondescript papers which I had dis- 
 covered among the deeds contained mystifi- 
 cations, which with a proper key might be 
 unravelled, but Sir Anthony Croyden was 
 probably the only person who could throw any 
 light on the subject; on appealing to Catherine 
 Croyden she knew nothing whatever about 
 them. I could not see wherein they applied 
 to the estate, and yet there was a something 
 about them which constantly recurred to my 
 thoughts. 
 
 I had visited the mansion daily for a short 
 time, at Catherine Croyden's request, but little
 
 BEFORE THE TRIAL 55 
 
 was done or could be accomplished beyond 
 what I had decided upon at first. 
 
 The days had slipped by very swiftly. Caro- 
 line had called daily with a fresh bouquet of 
 flowers, and each time she produced the nose- 
 gay she would comment with a serious counte- 
 nance, as if she were afraid I might forget my 
 promise, " You paid for all these." 
 
 I looked at it as a rebuke and felt uncom- 
 fortable. 
 
 We were now within four days of the trial, 
 and I had arranged with Catherine Croyden to 
 accompany her and her daughter to London 
 on the morrow, so that arrangements could be 
 made for their accommodation, and also that I 
 might have ample time to prepare for the trial. 
 
 I had put the papers in my satchel with the 
 register of marriages, and sat back in my chair 
 in contemplation, when the door opened, and 
 Rags and Bones appeared; he came forward 
 and shook hands, after which he sat down. 
 
 Looking at me intently for a moment, he 
 said : " Some time ago you were appointed the 
 medium by which I was to receive a certain 
 sum of money. Does that still remain in 
 force? " 
 
 I replied, " Upon your refusal to accept the
 
 56 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 bequest, the amount was returned to Catherine 
 Croyden, but I am sure there will be no diffi- 
 culty in obtaining it from her." 
 
 " I have no such desire," said Rags and 
 Bones, " I simply wanted to well, never 
 mind now." Then placing his hand to his 
 forehead, he arose to go. 
 
 " My dear sir," I said, " don't hesitate in a 
 matter wherein you would be doing a kindness 
 to Mistress Croyden by accepting an acknowl- 
 edgment in return for saving her life; it was 
 only a few days ago that she referred to the 
 matter as very incomprehensible that a man 
 in apparently moderate circumstances should 
 decline the offer, but she decided that you are 
 more of a nobleman than the surface in- 
 dicated." 
 
 Rags and Bones shook his head " Not now, 
 I cannot," he answered. 
 
 I followed him to the door, offering my 
 services in any way he desired, but he left me 
 unanswered. 
 
 Rags and Bones had no sooner left the office 
 than two ragged urchins, who were tugging at 
 a dilapidated crab-pot full of bones, called out, 
 "Mister, what'll ye give for these bones? say 
 Rags, what'll ye "
 
 BEFORE THE TRIAL 57 
 
 Upon this the object of their attention 
 turned around, gazed at the bones in a medita- 
 tive way, and gave the boys a silver bit, on 
 receiving which they decamped at full speed; 
 and Rags and Bones, after satisfying himself 
 on whatever point the bones had prompted 
 him, went on his way in the direction of the 
 mansion. 
 
 Thinking he was not prepared to take his 
 purchase, I dragged the crab-pot with its con- 
 tents into my office, so that they would be safe 
 on his return ; they were well picked bones, and 
 my dog after sniffing around the basket, 
 resumed his nap on the mat with an injured 
 air. 
 
 Shortly afterwards I had another visitor in 
 Caroline Croyden. She had never appeared 
 before without a bouquet, and as she entered, 
 her face wore a saddened expression. 
 
 "Oh! Mr. Gardner!" she said instantly on 
 entering, " I am afraid my entire ignorance 
 of the proprieties has made me appear ridicu- 
 lous. I was on my way hither with a message 
 from mamma, that everything was in readiness 
 for the journey, when I met Rags and Bones 
 outside the gate. He tried to avoid me, poor 
 man, and attributing it to his poverty, I made
 
 58 THE BARONET BAG-PICKER 
 
 bold to call out to him as sweetly as the words 
 would admit of, 'Rags and Bones.' He in- 
 stantly stopped, and gazed upon me with such 
 a surprised look, that I said, ' I hope, sir, that 
 I am not too bold in addressing you in such a 
 manner, but neither my mother nor Mr. Gard- 
 ner have succeeded in discovering any other 
 name; it is of course meaningless saving as a 
 means of attracting you.' 
 
 " He replied, ' My dear young lady, I owned 
 a different name once, but through untoward 
 circumstances some call it fate I have 
 adopted the profession of a rags and bones 
 collector, and the name of my calling is quite 
 good enough for me.' 
 
 : ' But, sir,' I replied, ' my grandfather, Sir 
 Anthony Croyden, directed before his death, 
 and my mother only recently begged Mr. 
 Gardner to try to influence you to accept some 
 suitable employment on the estate, and it 
 grieves my mother very much to be informed 
 that you will receive no recognition at her 
 hands.' 
 
 "He answered, 'I mean no discourtesy to 
 your mother, nor to you, young lady ; some day 
 I may be permitted to explain, but the time is 
 not yet.'
 
 BEFORE THE TRIAL 59 
 
 " Something prompted me to offer him the 
 flowers I intended for you; he accepted them 
 with a bow, and crushed them with both hands 
 violently against his bosom, and I thought I 
 heard him sobbing as he walked away; he is 
 certainly a strange man. And so you see, Mr. 
 Gardner, you are minus a fresh bunch of 
 worlds to-day ; and that reminds me that in our 
 daily visits to the mausoleum, we always find 
 fresh bunches of flowers laid on both grand- 
 mamma's and grandpapa's tombs. Sometimes 
 they are wild flowers such as grow scattered 
 o'er field and fen, at other times they are the 
 cultivated varieties ; we wonder who is so fond 
 of their memories." 
 
 At that moment Caroline espied the basket 
 of bones, and remarked: " Have you gotten in 
 a supply of bones for Dash during our ab- 
 sence? " 
 
 I explained to her that they were a recent 
 purchase by Rags and Bones. 
 
 "Isn't it strange?" she remarked. "It is 
 cruel to pass remarks, but I wonder if he is 
 exactly right? He does not act nor talk like 
 an ordinary man." 
 
 I answered, " It's a conundrum, and I'll give 
 it up, for the present, at least."
 
 60 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 Nothing further transpired until we reached 
 London, and having seen to the proper accom- 
 modation of my charges, I went to the room I 
 occupied during my examination days, and 
 again gave myself up to thinking over the 
 coming trial.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 A last the day for the trial arrived. I 
 had ascertained that the case was 
 among the earliest on the docket, 
 and I escorted my fair clients early 
 to the Courtroom in Chancery Lane, so that 
 they could escape the vulgar gaze of the 
 crowd, which from time immemorial has found 
 the Court of Chancery the chief spot to gratify 
 its morbid curiosity. There are visitors to the 
 Chancery Court who have no connection with 
 it as far as the cases are concerned, but who 
 nevertheless are as regular in attendance as 
 the judges. 
 
 The Chancery Court is a musty place, and 
 after experiencing the sea breezes of East 
 Looe, the comparison was anything but 
 favourable. The room looked part chapel, 
 part theatre, but without anything fore- 
 shadowed to warrant the anticipation of 
 pleasure. 
 
 61 . .
 
 62 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 Catherine Croyden sat very demurely be- 
 side her daughter, frequently using a bottle of 
 smelling salts ; she had never been absent from 
 East Looe in her life before, and as she related 
 after the trial, she never wanted to leave it 
 again during the balance of her life. She was 
 nervous, not knowing whom she was to con- 
 front, nor what questions would be pro- 
 pounded, and I was unable to encourage 
 her. 
 
 As the hour of ten drew near the room 
 became densely crowded. Several attorneys 
 had assembled around a large table imme- 
 diately in front of the judgment seat, and 
 among a group of the latter sat Newton 
 Bramble, Caroline's cousin, the one concerned 
 in the boating accident, and who was the claim- 
 ant to the estate of Croyden. 
 
 Caroline watched him for a moment and 
 remarked to me that if he succeeded in up- 
 setting her title to the estate as easily as he did 
 the boat, it would not take long to decide the 
 case. 
 
 " Do you mean that? " I asked. 
 
 " I have thought so since the case was insti- 
 tuted," Caroline replied. 
 
 " I wish you had hinted at it before," I com-
 
 THE TRIAL 63 
 
 mented, " as I might have made a case out of 
 it; I thought so all along." 
 
 The cathedral clocks in the neighbourhood 
 were striking ten, and precisely at that hour 
 the Chancery judge appeared; the audience 
 arose, the judge bowed to the exploiters of the 
 law, and sat down in a high-backed chair, 
 which was surmounted by the lion and unicorn 
 upholding a crown. 
 
 The chaplain offered a prayer to Him 
 who made the hearts of all men, to bless her 
 Gracious Majesty, the Queen, and to imbue 
 her judges with wisdom to administer the laws 
 of her realms so that the right might prevail, 
 and peace and happiness abound. 
 
 Then the court crier opened the proceedings 
 of the day with the antiquated phrase, " Oyez, 
 Oyez, her Majesty's Court of Chancery is 
 now open, those having business before the 
 Court will hold themselves in readiness to 
 answer when called upon, the others are com- 
 manded to keep silence." 
 
 The judge, arrayed in his powdered wig and 
 ermine gown, was sufficiently imposing to awe 
 any person unfamiliar with the modus oper- 
 andi of the law, and Catherine Croyden visibly 
 shook.
 
 64 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 The first case called was postponed till the 
 next sitting, owing to the death of one of the 
 litigants. 
 
 The second case was " Newton Bramble 
 versus Catherine Croyden, and Caroline Croy- 
 den, a minor." 
 
 Immediately one of the trio of attorneys 
 surrounding the claimant arose, and stated 
 that the firm of Hunt, Ketchem & Pluck rep- 
 resented the claimant. 
 
 Requesting Catherine Croyden to remain 
 seated, I stepped forward to within easy speak- 
 ing distance of the judge, and in a sonorous 
 voice, stated, "I, Edmund Keith Gardner, 
 have the honour to represent the real owner." 
 
 Mr. Hunt, who appeared to be the harrier of 
 the firm, objected to the words " real owner" 
 being used, on the ground that it would imply 
 an acknowledgment which they did not for a 
 moment propose to grant. 
 
 The judge addressed me, saying, " Will you 
 change the sentence?" Bowing, I said, "I, 
 Edmund Keith Gardner, have the great hon- 
 our of representing the defendant." 
 
 :< We object to the word defendant," said 
 Mr. Hunt. 
 
 I looked at the judge, who nodded, evidently
 
 THE TRIAL 65 
 
 supposing that I had made a blunder. I there- 
 upon said, " I insist upon using the word de- 
 fendant, inasmuch as Catherine Croyden, the 
 lawful widow of George Croyden, is the right- 
 ful owner until her daughter becomes of 
 age." 
 
 Mr. Hunt protested that recognising Cath- 
 erine Croyden as the lawful widow of George 
 Croyden, and therefore the rightful owner, 
 were exactly the points at issue, and insisted 
 that this sentence be entirely expunged. 
 
 Without answering my opponent, I turned 
 to the judge and said: " Your Worship, as at- 
 torney for Catherine Croyden I take the stand, 
 as upon thorough investigation I have found 
 it, that being the possessor she is the rightful 
 owner until proved otherwise." 
 
 The judge replied, " The mere statement 
 made at the beginning of this trial that Cath- 
 erine Croyden is, or combined with her daugh- 
 ter, are defendant or defendants, or that they 
 are the rightful owner or owners, does not pre- 
 vent the claimant from disproving it. It ap- 
 pears to me that it is the duty of the defence 
 to cling to his statement, until the court decides 
 the case." 
 
 My opponent then asked, " Has Mr. Gard-
 
 66 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 ner produced his credentials as a lawyer able 
 to plead in this court? " 
 
 I thereupon handed my certificate to the 
 judge, who, after examining it, returned it 
 with a bow. 
 
 " But how are we to know that he is the per- 
 son named in the certificate? " asked Mr. 
 Hunt. 
 
 " You will have ample opportunity to dis- 
 prove that also," I retorted. 
 
 The trio of lawyers then held a consultation 
 together, and Mr. Hunt sat down, and Mr. 
 Ketchem acted as interrogator. 
 
 " Your worship," said Mr. Ketchem, " Sir 
 Anthony Croyden having recently died with- 
 out leaving living issue, we claim that our 
 client, Newton Bramble, is next of kin, there 
 being no authentic proof that George Croy- 
 den was married according to law." 
 
 " Does your case rest with this statement? " 
 asked the judge. 
 
 " We have no means of making further 
 claims until the case proceeds," answered Mr. 
 Ketchem. 
 
 " In other words," said the judge, " you let 
 the burden of your case rest on the defendant 
 to prove a marriage."
 
 THE TRIAL 67 
 
 " To prove the marriage," said the attorney. 
 
 " I thank you for your lesson in grammar," 
 retorted the judge. 
 
 "Mr. Gardner," continued his Worship, 
 " will you act upon the suggestion given? " 
 
 " Do I understand, your Worship, that the 
 claimant's attorneys are awaiting an oppor- 
 tunity to make a case out of any weakness they 
 may discover in my pleading? " 
 
 " That would be the inevitable in any case," 
 replied his Worship. " It remains for you to 
 prove your client's title to the estate in such a 
 way as will baffle the opposite party." 
 
 I replied, " It appears, your Worship, that a 
 case has been trumped up against two defence- 
 less women, in the hope that they will fail in 
 producing sufficient evidence. There is a 
 mystery attached to the case which needs ex- 
 plaining before the matter of proof can be 
 gone into, and seeing that the claimant has not 
 been put on the stand, and that his attorneys 
 have made no assertions, I take for granted 
 that it means a tilt between lawyers to make a 
 discovery on the one side, or to prevent it on the 
 other side; if I have not fully expressed my- 
 self, I mean that I also can introduce my case 
 without having my client called to the stand."
 
 68 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 At this juncture Mr. Ketchem interrupted, 
 saying that he insisted upon calling the de- 
 fendants to the stand. 
 
 " Now or later? " I demanded. 
 
 At this point the trio of lawyers again held 
 a consultation together, and Mr. Ketchem 
 answered, " We will have Catherine Croyden 
 on the stand at this time." 
 
 I remonstrated: "Your Worship, the law- 
 yers for the claimant have already rested the 
 burden of their case on me to prove my client's 
 title to the estate; I would like to know if this 
 honourable court recognises their right to 
 re-open their case every time they discover a 
 salient point." 
 
 ' We would like to ask Catherine Croyden 
 a few questions," interposed Mr. Ketchem. 
 
 ' Your Worship, before I permit my client 
 to be questioned and cross-questioned, I insist 
 that the claimant be placed on the stand and 
 duly sworn, so that I may renew the doubtful 
 pleasure of feeling his pulse." 
 
 "Have you met the claimant before?" in- 
 quired the judge. 
 
 " We met before this trial was instituted, or 
 perhaps thought of. The claimant visited 
 East Looe ostensibly to make a friendly call
 
 THE TRIAL 69 
 
 upon his cousin, Caroline Croyden. His visit 
 ended very abruptly, and in a manner that, 
 coupled with the present suit, indicates it was 
 for no other purpose than to wrest the estate 
 of Croyden by foul means; for had he ob- 
 tained the hand of Caroline Croyden, which 
 he had first in view, it would have been as bane- 
 ful as his subsequent act, which left no doubt 
 as to his criminal intentions; there are a few 
 incidents in connection with his visit that I 
 would like him to elucidate." 
 
 ' We object to our client being catechised 
 on any matter not appertaining to the case," 
 said Mr. Ketchem. 
 
 " Bring the bring him forward," I de- 
 manded, forgetting for a moment that I was 
 in court. 
 
 Newton Bramble came forward in a shuff- 
 ling manner, and the oath was administered. 
 
 I then addressed him, saying: "Newton 
 Bramble, did you ever see Miss Caroline Croy- 
 den before you visited her at East Looe some 
 few months ago? " 
 
 " Never before," he answered. 
 ' Why did you visit her on that occasion? " 
 ' To make her acquaintance." 
 
 " Had you no other object? "
 
 70 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 " I object to the question," said Mr. 
 Ketchem. 
 
 " What is your objection? " asked the judge. 
 
 " The question leads to the inference that 
 there was another object beyond that stated," 
 answered Mr. Ketchem. 
 
 " I think the question is perfectly relevant," 
 said his Worship ; " go on, Mr. Gardner." 
 
 "Had you no other object?" I repeated. 
 
 " No definite object," was the answer, given 
 in a surly manner. 
 
 " Did you ever have any experience in sail- 
 ing a boat before your visit to East Looe? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Did you ever sail a boat off the coast, be- 
 fore you visited East Looe? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " State where." 
 
 " In the neighbourhood of Plymouth." 
 
 " Do you consider yourself expert in hand- 
 ling a sail-boat at sea? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Can you explain why, on a calm day like 
 that in which you took the defendant and her 
 daughter in a sail-boat off East Looe, the boat 
 capsized?" 
 
 The witness coloured deeply, and for a few
 
 THE TRIAL 71 
 
 moments could think of no answer; finally he 
 said: "The only answer I can make is that the 
 boat capsized." 
 
 " Do you consider yourself an expert 
 swimmer? " 
 
 " Reasonably expert." 
 
 " When the boat was capsized and the two 
 ladies thrown into the sea, how comes it that 
 when I swam to their rescue, you were clinging 
 to the boat without offering assistance? " 
 
 " I didn't consider myself expert swimmer 
 enough." 
 
 " After the ladies were rescued, you swam to 
 shore lively enough," I observed. 
 
 " How comes it that you left East Looe the 
 day following the episode, without making an 
 apology, or even saying good-bye to those who 
 welcomed your visit? " 
 
 " That is my affair," he answered. 
 
 " Who prompted you to institute this suit? " 
 
 Here the trio of lawyers jumped to their feet 
 and objected to their client being questioned 
 on this point. 
 
 " I think, Mr. Gardner," said his Worship, 
 " that you need not press for an answer." 
 
 " Mr. Bramble, I sincerely hope that the 
 thorns you have started on your youthful vine
 
 72 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 to menace others, will meet with an obstacle 
 sufficient to turn the points towards your own 
 body ; I have done with you for the present." 
 
 Then Mr. Ketchem said: " I ask that Cath- 
 erine Croyden be called to the witness box and 
 sworn." 
 
 I stepped over to Catherine Croyden and led 
 her to the stand, advising her to answer just the 
 questions propounded, unless I objected there- 
 to. Caroline stood by her side to encourage 
 her. A clerk handed her a Testament, saying 
 in one breath and without changing the tone of 
 his voice: " Take off your glove take the book 
 in your right hand the evidence you shall give 
 before the court shall be the truth the whole 
 truth and nothing but the truth so help you 
 Gad kiss the book." 
 
 " How many times have you been married? " 
 asked Mr. Ketchem. 
 
 " Once only." 
 
 " Relate the incidents leading up to your 
 alleged marriage." 
 
 I interposed an objection. 
 
 " Objection sustained," said the judge. 
 
 " At what time did your alleged marriage 
 with George Croyden take place? " 
 
 " On September 14, 1848."
 
 THE TRIAL 73 
 
 " Did your parents object to the alleged 
 marriage? " 
 
 " My father was the rector of East Looe, 
 and married us." 
 
 " How old were you at the time of the 
 alleged marriage? " 
 
 " Nineteen years." 
 
 ;< What was the duration of your court- 
 ship?" 
 
 I interposed an objection. 
 
 "Objection sustained," said the judge. 
 
 At this point the lawyers held a few mo- 
 ments' conversation together, and examined a 
 paper. 
 
 " Did you live happily together during your 
 alleged married life? " 
 
 "Oh, very happy; happier than all the 
 world." 
 
 " Did your alleged husband's father object 
 to the marriage? " 
 
 I interposed an objection that, the marriage 
 having been consummated, the father's objec- 
 tion would not change its validity, George 
 Croyden being of age. 
 
 The judge overruled my objection on the 
 ground that subsequent revelations might be 
 affected by the answer.
 
 74 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 Catherine Croyden thereupon answered, 
 " Sir Anthony Croyden objected to our mar- 
 riage at first, but became reconciled to me after 
 after my husband became lost to me;" and 
 at this point she burst into tears. 
 
 " Was there any offspring from that alleged 
 marriage?" 
 
 " A daughter," was the answer. 
 
 ;< What was the date of that daughter's 
 birth?" 
 
 I objected to the question as irrelevant. 
 
 " State your objection," said the judge. 
 
 ' Your Worship, as I stated at the opening 
 of this case, there is a mystery attached to it 
 which, unexplained, leaves all answers without 
 their true significance ; the answer to this ques- 
 tion announces a fact without giving an oppor- 
 tunity to explain the causes leading up to it." 
 
 Mr. Ketchem insisted upon the question 
 being answered. 
 
 I appealed to the court, arguing that 
 answering the question at this time would ma- 
 terially destroy the evidence which would be 
 subsequently adduced. 
 
 The judge thereupon allowed the question 
 to remain in statu quo, until I should later 
 revert to it.
 
 THE TRIAL 75 
 
 The lawyers again consulted, and requested 
 that Caroline Croyden be put on the stand. 
 
 The clerk was about to pass the Testament 
 and repeat his monotonous dirge, when the 
 judge leaned forward and said it was unneces- 
 sary. 
 
 " What is your name? " asked Mr. Ketchem. 
 
 " Caroline Croyden." 
 
 " And your age? " 
 
 " Eighteen years." 
 
 " What date is your birthday? " 
 
 I objected to this stealthy way of obtruding 
 a question which had been relegated to the 
 rear. 
 
 " Your Worship," said Mr. Ketchem, " ask- 
 ing one witness a question and being tempora- 
 rily overruled, does not preclude us from 
 asking another witness the same question." 
 
 " It evidently does not deter you from doing 
 so," replied his Worship; " you are overruled." 
 
 After consulting his partners again, Mr. 
 Ketchem put the question: 
 
 " Have you a suitor? ' J 
 
 I held up my hand to Caroline to prevent her 
 from answering, and objected to the question. 
 
 " How long have you been engaged? " 
 
 I again objected.
 
 76 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 The judge then addressed Mr. Ketchem, 
 saying, " The question has no bearing in this 
 case, but I sincerly hope that Miss Croyden 
 has a suitor who is worthy of her, and who will 
 faithfully guide and protect her." 
 
 Mr. Ketchem thereupon commented, "We 
 have finished for the present." 
 
 Turning to me the judge said, "Now, Mr. 
 Gardner, you can proceed with your case." 
 
 " Your Worship, before I was interrupted, I 
 began by stating there was a mystery attached 
 to this case which it was necessary to explain 
 for its general elucidation. Being a compara- 
 tive stranger to all connected with the case, and 
 even to East Looe until very recently, it was 
 necessary for me to unravel it ; and as many of 
 the actors have left the stage, are dead in fact, 
 the difficulty has been very considerable. 
 
 " The cardinal points, and the only ones 
 which can interest the court, are these: 
 
 " George Croyden, the only son and heir of 
 the late Sir Anthony Croyden, was married to 
 Catherine Penistan, only daughter of the Rev- 
 erend Howard Penistan, rector of East Looe, 
 on September 14, 1848. The ceremony was 
 performed by the rector. 
 
 " Sir Anthony Croyden objected to the mar-
 
 "A page had been abstracted from the register of marriages"
 
 THE TRIAL 77 
 
 riage, on the ground that it was a departure 
 from the example set by his ancestors, to marry 
 outside of the baronetcy ; but he relented after 
 the loss of his son. 
 
 " The couple lived very happily together at 
 the rectory for about seven months, when one 
 night George Croyden was missed. His wife 
 searched the glebe lands and the churchyard, 
 finally entering the church in quest of him. 
 Reaching the vestry room, she discovered that 
 the window had been broken, and that a page 
 had been abstracted from the register of mar- 
 riages, which lay open on the vestry table, in- 
 stead of being in its accustomed place in an 
 oaken chest. 
 
 " Being alarmed for the safety of her hus- 
 band, she then went to the mansion and awoke 
 Sir Anthony Croyden ; and he, with a body of 
 servants, started for the shore in search of his 
 son. 
 
 " Catherine Croyden became unconscious 
 from the efforts of her fruitless search, but on 
 recovering also started for the shore, and on 
 her way was met by a gipsy wench named 
 Madge Morrill, who, without any modification 
 of words, informed her that her husband was 
 drowned.
 
 78 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 " Worried beyond her power to control, 
 Catherine Croyden ran to the edge of the cliff 
 overlooking the beach, and slid down its almost 
 precipitous sides, striking the Black Rock, a 
 huge boulder immediately below the cliff, and 
 rolled into the sea, from which she was res- 
 cued and taken unconscious to the rectory, 
 where she was confined to her bed for several 
 weeks with a fever. 
 
 " The body of George Croyden, supposed 
 to have been drowned, was never found, but 
 the body of a well-dressed man, a stranger, 
 was discovered on the beach, and from memo- 
 randums found upon him, he had evidently 
 lived a short time after having reached the 
 shore. These memorandums are important 
 as bearing in an indirect way on the theft of 
 the leaf from the marriage register. The 
 certificate was never recovered. 
 
 " The parish register, which I now produce, 
 has a memorandum opposite to the page suc- 
 ceeding the missing one, in the handwriting of 
 the rector who officiated at the wedding, set- 
 ting forth the facts of the marriage and the 
 theft of the certificate." 
 
 I then passed the register to the judge who 
 scrutinised it very carefully.
 
 THE TRIAL 79 
 
 " Do you rest your case upon this exhibit? " 
 asked the judge. 
 
 " I have no alternative but to do so," I 
 replied. 
 
 Mr. Ketchem then arose, and stated that the 
 mere fact of a memorandum having been 
 made on the register, of an alleged marriage, 
 was not proof that a marriage had taken 
 place, as the signatures of the parties to the 
 marriage were not subscribed. 
 
 " But the signatures of the witnesses are," 
 I replied. 
 
 " How are we to get the proof of that? " 
 asked Mr. Ketchem. 
 
 " On Catherine Croyden's oath," I an- 
 swered. 
 
 At this point the judge addressed himself 
 to the claimant saying : " Do we understand 
 that you refuse to take the defendant's word 
 under oath, that she was legally married to 
 George Croyden? " 
 
 The claimant looked at his lawyers, hesi- 
 tated for a moment, then replied that he 
 preferred to accept the legal version of the 
 matter. 
 
 His Worship then turned to me and said : 
 
 " I am perfectly satisfied as to the validity
 
 80 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 of George Croyden's marriage with Catherine 
 Penistan, I never had a doubt of it from the 
 beginning; but unfortunately, in order to sat- 
 isfy the claimant, who will not acknowledge 
 his belief in it, and the law itself, which 
 you are aware cannot be modified to suit the 
 case, it is necessary, seeing that the wit- 
 nesses are dead, that the certificate be pro- 
 duced, or that further evidence other than that 
 presented by Catherine Croyden be procured; 
 and an application for further time to enable 
 you to obtain such evidence will be granted 
 upon application." 
 
 I was about to make that application, when 
 there was a commotion in the court room, and 
 Rags and Bones, who had evidently been pres- 
 ent during the entire proceedings, forced him- 
 self up to the witness stand. His face was 
 pale and haggard, and his hand trembled as 
 he drew a paper from his bosom and passed 
 it to me saying: " Please examine that 
 document." 
 
 I took the paper, and opened before my 
 astonished gaze the missing page from the 
 register. 
 
 I then addressed the jlidge, stating that 
 through a marvellous interposition of Provi-
 
 THE TRIAL 81 
 
 dence, the stolen certificate had been recovered, 
 and I passed him the leaf. 
 
 Rags and Bones having handed me the cer- 
 tificate, proceeded to leave the dock, when the 
 judge exclaimed : " Stop that man ! " He there- 
 upon stood in the witness box, with downcast 
 eyes. 
 
 The judge asked for the register of mar- 
 riages, and fitting the leaf in the book at the 
 mutilated page, was evidently engrossed in 
 comparing the writing ; then he stated, " The 
 certificate is, without the shadow of a doubt, 
 the original one, and confirms Catherine Croy- 
 den's statement, and her title to the estate;" 
 then passing the book back to me, he addressed 
 himself to the claimant, saying gruffly : " I de- 
 sire that you examine the certificate." 
 
 The register with the certificate having been 
 passed to Newton Bramble, he reluctantly 
 glanced over it ; then gazed blankly at his attor- 
 neys, who were no less chagrined. 
 
 " Have you anything to say why this case 
 should not be decided against your client, and 
 in favour of Catherine Croyden?" asked the 
 judge. 
 
 " We would like to ask this fellow a few 
 questions under oath," said Mr. Ketchem.
 
 82 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 I objected on the ground that the certificate 
 of marriage having been produced, annulled 
 the claimant's suit, and as far as this case was 
 concerned, it was at an end. 
 
 " I sustain your objection," said the judge, 
 " but the propounding and answering of cer- 
 tain questions may clear up a mystery, which, 
 unsolved, might leave room for future suits." 
 
 Hereupon the clerk went through the pro- 
 cess of administering the oath. 
 
 " How came you in possession of that cer- 
 tificate? " asked Mr. Ketchem. 
 
 " I took it from the original thief," Rags 
 and Bones replied. 
 
 " At what time and place? " 
 
 " On the night of the sacrilege, and at East 
 Looe." 
 
 " Where have you been since that time? " 
 
 " Abroad." 
 
 "And your name?" 
 
 " Rags and Bones." 
 
 " That may be your calling, but we want the 
 name you owned at the time of the robbery." 
 
 " It matters not, the world is dead to me," 
 Rags and Bones replied. 
 
 At this stage the judge interposed, saying to 
 the witness: " It is necessary for the purpose
 
 THE TRIAL 83 
 
 of settling this case for all time, that the mys- 
 tery connected with the marriage certificate be 
 entirely cleared up ; give thy name, man ! " 
 
 With a sorrowful voice, Rags and Bones 
 replied, " I am George Croyden, the missing 
 heir to the estate of Croyden." 
 
 " George Croyden ! " I excitedly exclaimed. 
 
 Catherine Croyden, who had not taken her 
 eyes off the witness from the time he produced 
 the certificate, no sooner heard him aver that 
 he was the lost heir, than she stretched out her 
 arms and arose to go to him ; but the strain had 
 been too much for her, and before she reached 
 him she turned deadly pale, fell to the floor, 
 and was taken unconscious into an anteroom. 
 
 Order was restored in the court room, and 
 the judge summed up the verdict in a very few 
 words, that the case was quashed by the pres- 
 ence of the lost heir, and further, that had the 
 certificate been produced in any other man- 
 ner, the verdict would have been the same. 
 
 The audience was so overjoyed at the result 
 of the case that a distinct applause was given, 
 and the gavel was rapped to restore order. 
 
 No sooner had order been restored than the 
 lawyers for the claimant demanded George 
 Croyden's arrest on the charge of murder.
 
 84 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 " Are you sure that you are warranted in 
 making such a serious charge? " inquired the 
 judge. 
 
 '' We have good and sufficient reasons for 
 so doing," answered Mr. Hunt. 
 
 " Well," replied the judge, " I trust there 
 will be sufficient proof to the contrary. The 
 manner in which you instituted and conducted 
 the present case gives good and sufficient rea- 
 son for denying the warrant unless reasonable 
 proof is adduced beforehand, and I direct that 
 George Croyden be allowed his freedom whilst 
 under this roof; if you insist upon his arrest, 
 you must seek a warrant elsewhere."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 ARREST AND IMPRISONMENT 
 
 A soon as the court had rendered its 
 verdict, I asked George Croyden to 
 visit his wife in the anteroom, but 
 he answered: " I cannot; the time is 
 not yet." 
 
 " But you will certainly be arrested on the 
 serious charge of murder, and it may be a 
 long time before you get the opportunity 
 again." 
 
 " I cannot see her at this time," was his 
 reply. 
 
 Then I asked him what he intended doing, 
 and he replied, "I am going back to East 
 Looe." 
 
 When he started to leave the court room I 
 knew it was useless to advise him, so I followed 
 more for the sake of seeing what would become 
 of him than for any good I might be able 
 to do. 
 
 He had no sooner reached the street than 
 
 85
 
 86 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 two officers, instructed by the lawyers, took 
 hold of him and handcuffing him, led him 
 away. 
 
 In this proceeding I did not interfere, for in 
 such a serious charge, warrant or no warrant, 
 any obstruction from outsiders would result in 
 reprisals of a not very salutary nature. I con- 
 tented myself, therefore, by mingling with 
 the crowd, and following George Croyden 
 to the criminal court at the Old Bailey, 
 where a warrant was sworn out in the names of 
 Hunt, Ketchem & Pluck, on behalf of the 
 commonwealth, against George Croyden, alias 
 Rags and Bones, for the murder of one Ed- 
 ward Marshall at East Looe on or about the 
 tenth day of March, 1849. 
 
 George Croyden was at once committed to 
 prison, bail being refused. I persuaded him 
 to appoint me his attorney, and I obtained a 
 permit from the committing magistrate to visit 
 the prisoner as his legal adviser, and at such 
 times as the prison rules permitted. 
 
 I then returned to the Chancery Court and 
 found the court proceedings adjourned for the 
 day, the judge being present with Catherine 
 Croyden and Caroline, speaking words of 
 comfort. He assured Catherine that courage
 
 ARREST AND IMPRISONMENT 87 
 
 and determination on her part were necessary 
 in the present trouble, more than in the case 
 just ended so favourably, in order that all 
 possible evidence might be secured. 
 
 The judge took my hand and said, " I would 
 like to see more of you; the Chancery Court 
 needs enlightenment, but it will never be 
 obtainable from the darkened characters who 
 make a business of cheating the law and the 
 gospel in it." 
 
 We finally left the court room, and inform- 
 ing Catherine Croyden as gently as could be 
 conveyed by words of the arrest and imprison- 
 ment of her husband, and also of the utter im- 
 possibility of her visiting him at this time, we 
 hastily journeyed back to East Looe. 
 
 Catherine Croyden was in a deplorable state 
 of mind, for the discovery of her husband, and 
 his subsequent arrest on the charge of mur- 
 der, had so shocked her that it seemed im- 
 possible for me to get her to discuss the 
 matter. 
 
 To all my questions she would answer, "I 
 know nothing whatever ; my husband has been 
 dead to me these eighteen years, and now that 
 he has reappeared it is to be cast into prison 
 as a murderer. Would I had died the day he
 
 88 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 first became lost to me, then I would have been 
 saved all these years of sorrow." 
 
 " Have a little more fortitude, I beg of you, 
 Mistress Croyden," I said. "It is necessary 
 that I, almost an entire stranger, should have 
 your assistance in unravelling the case." 
 
 I shut myself in my office for two whole 
 days with a sketch of Catherine Croyden's 
 story before me. I made drawings of the 
 cliffs and the cove, but this did not help me; 
 everything that happened that dark night was 
 wrapped in mystery, and the return of George 
 Croyden made it more mysterious and cloaked 
 him with grave suspicion of guilt; and here, 
 unfortunately, I confounded his disguise of 
 Rags and Bones, together with his refusal to 
 see his wife after so long a separation, as an 
 admission of his guilt, and it retarded me from 
 devoting myself with that keen interest in the 
 case that a freedom from these impressions 
 would otherwise have stimulated. 
 
 I had started in on the third day with the 
 intention of taking a trip back to London to 
 consult the prisoner as the only means of ob- 
 taining adequate information to begin my 
 plea, when I was interrupted by the appear-* 
 ance of Caroline with a bunch of worlds, as,
 
 ARREST AND IMPRISONMENT 89 
 
 she still persisted in calling the roses. She 
 bade me good-morning, and after removing 
 the faded worlds that had remained since the 
 day we started for London, she put the fresh 
 bunch in the vase. 
 
 " Mr. Gardner, I have grown suddenly old," 
 she said. 
 
 " I hope not, Miss Croyden," I replied, " for 
 I want you, above all persons, to remain for- 
 ever young, in heart at least." 
 
 "Unless I die young, that can never be!" 
 Caroline replied. 
 
 "Why not?" I inquired. 
 
 " Because there is too much trouble in this 
 poor old world," she answered. 
 
 " Ah, my dear," I said, " it is these troubles 
 that make us so much better." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, but I know they 
 have made us very unhappy; poor mamma is 
 prostrated with grief, she will scarcely answer 
 me." 
 
 " I know, Miss Croyden, and it is useless 
 for me to attempt to relieve her sorrow." 
 
 "What can be done for papa, do you 
 think? " 
 
 "I am as much at a loss as yourself. Your 
 father knows nothing that will help him, but
 
 90 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 I am going to London to consult him further. 
 Have you any message to send? " 
 
 " Please convey my love to him, Mr. Gard- 
 ner, and say we are prostrated over his im- 
 prisonment."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 SEEKING EVIDENCE 
 
 AlIVING in London I went di- 
 rectly to the prison, and entering 
 George Croyden's cell, I conferred 
 with him on the subject of obtain- 
 ing evidence to disprove the murder, but he 
 knew nothing whatever beyond what he related 
 in the Chancery Court. 
 
 I showed him the bundle of papers which I 
 had found among the deeds, and called his 
 attention particularly to the pencil memor- 
 andum, ' The person who attacked me is 
 drowned;" but he knew no more about it than I 
 did. Finally he saw me replace the old chain 
 around the package as I had found it, and 
 watching it intently for a moment he held out 
 his hand, saying, " Let me look at it? " then as 
 he took off the chain and examined it, he said 
 in an undertone, " I wonder if she is alive? " 
 ' Who do you mean? " I asked. 
 " Oh," he replied, " I am thinking aloud. 
 Well, I am wondering if Madge Morrill, a 
 
 91
 
 92 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 gipsy wench, is alive; let me see, she must be 
 about thirty-six years old; if she were pro- 
 duced in court, knowing that my life depended 
 on her evidence, she might speak, otherwise 
 she would not." 
 
 " Where is she likely to be, if alive? " I 
 inquired. 
 
 " Roaming around with her tribe," was his 
 answer. 
 
 " And there is no telling where, I suppose? " 
 
 " Possibly in the neighbourhood of the hop 
 gardens of Kent." 
 
 " If she can read I will advertise," I added. 
 
 " She can read well enough, but would never 
 get hold of the daily papers," George Croy- 
 den answered. 
 
 " I will post notices in the neighbourhood 
 offering a reward for her appearance; better 
 still, I will go there at once." 
 
 "Do as you please, Mr. Gardner, I cannot 
 help you," was the rejoinder. 
 
 I returned to East Looe and called upon 
 Mistress Croyden at once, and after relating 
 my conference with her husband, stated my 
 intention of visiting Kent. She sighed as I 
 mentioned the gipsy, and said : " She is at the 
 bottom of much of my sorrow; she it was who
 
 93 
 
 told me that George was drowned, and al- 
 though she has visited East Looe yearly, and 
 knew the falsehood, she never relented." 
 
 "I remember. Would you know her?" I 
 inquired. 
 
 " I have only seen her a few times in all 
 these eighteen years, and the last time she was 
 passing from the servant's hall, where she had 
 possibly been inventing more lies; she is a 
 brazen hussy. I could scarcely be depended 
 upon to identify her," Catherine concluded. 
 
 I decided to take a flying trip to Kent, and 
 so eager was I to discover the gipsy, that after 
 leaving the thickly settled districts, I watched 
 from the train as it rushed by the highways and 
 byways, to detect any caravan; and just 
 before I reached my destination, they became 
 so numerous that I despaired of ever finding 
 Madge Morrill among such a multitude. 
 
 The result was no better than I expected. I 
 spent three days in vain inquiry. Finally I 
 had a thousand circulars printed: " To the 
 gipsies: Fifty pounds reward for the dis- 
 covery of Madge Morrill who yearly visits 
 East Looe. Write or visit the undersigned 
 within one week. Edmund Keith Gardner, 
 East Looe."
 
 94 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 I wrote to Catherine Croyden informing her 
 of the result of my mission, and that I would be 
 in East Looe for a few days seeking evi- 
 dence. 
 
 On reaching East Looe, I first visited my 
 parents, who had already been apprised of the 
 success of the Chancery trial, but who had not 
 yet been fully informed of the more serious 
 phase the case had taken. I explained to my 
 father, and his answer was characteristic, 
 " To trust in Providence, and seek among the 
 villagers for evidence." 
 
 On the way to my office I called upon the 
 little doctor, and invited him to call and join 
 me in a smoke. He readily consented, and 
 when our pipes were lit, I explained the whole 
 case to him. 
 
 The doctor stated that the joy of the vil- 
 lagers over the discovery of the lost heir had 
 been suppressed by the horrible news of the 
 arrest for murder. " We were going to ring 
 the bells to welcome him home; it is a bitter dis- 
 appointment to us." 
 
 " But is there not one among the inhabitants 
 who can help me? " I inquired. 
 
 "Not one!" exclaimed the little doctor. 
 " You see everything was wrapped in mystery,
 
 SEEKING EVIDENCE 95 
 
 and George is really the only one who knows 
 anything about how it was done." 
 
 " How what was done? " I inquired. 
 
 "Why! the murder!" replied the doctor. 
 
 " And you really think he did it? " 
 
 ;< Who else could have done it? Great, 
 good-natured George ; everybody liked him. I 
 don't say that he meant to do it, but he was a 
 giant in strength, and he forgot himself." 
 
 ; ' Were there any marks on the body when 
 found? " I asked. 
 
 " Just finger marks around the throat, that's 
 all ; George squeezed him mighty tight there I 
 should say." 
 
 I had grown angry at the little doctor his 
 manner was too easy for my excited nerves, 
 particularly when the life of " dear George," 
 as he styled him, hung in the balance. 
 
 " Now, doctor," I began, " you doubtless 
 know considerable about bodily ailments, but 
 you know nothing about law ; let me tell you it 
 is something that dosing will not make healthy ; 
 it is necessary to go right down to the roots of 
 the disease, dig them out, and hold them in 
 your hands before the court, and say, ' Here is 
 the cause of the trouble, gentlemen ' ; and then 
 you may save your patients from being hung,
 
 96 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 because they kill them in the blossom of health 
 if you don't get at the roots." 
 
 " Just so," said the little doctor, " the root of 
 all evil." 
 
 " Bah! " I ejaculated with emphasis. 
 
 The little man looked at me, wondering what 
 I meant by it, then loading up his pipe afresh, 
 he said, " Come down to the shore with me." 
 
 I followed him in silence. East Looe had 
 grown too small and too shallow, I thought. 
 
 We reached the cove at the east side of the 
 Black Rock, and standing at the base of the 
 cliff facing the beach, the doctor said, " It was 
 somewhere hereabouts, as well as I remember, 
 that I found the body." 
 
 " Did you find it? " I eagerly inquired. 
 
 "No! Oh! no! Madge Morrill, the gipsy, 
 found it; but I was called upon as a profes- 
 sional man to examine it, as I always am, you 
 know; examined scores on and off around this 
 same spot. That's all." 
 
 " That's all ! " I repeated with disgust. " But 
 can't you describe what you saw?" 
 
 " Now look here, Mr. Gardner, I don't want 
 to be a witness in this murder trial; I don't 
 want to see poor George hung, and his wife 
 left a widow for the second time."
 
 SEEKING EVIDENCE 97 
 
 " But, man," I indignantly protested, " you 
 will be the cause of it." 
 
 " I would be no good as a witness," he meekly 
 responded. 
 
 I discovered that the little doctor's mind had 
 become dwarfed to its surroundings, and that 
 he must be handled another way, so I said, 
 " Look here, I don't propose to see good- 
 natured George, as you style him, hung and his 
 wife left a widow for all the doctors in Eng- 
 land or out of it, and unless you give all the 
 information in your power, and answer what 
 questions I propound to you, I will get my 
 father to impeach you from the pulpit as an 
 accessory after the fact, and subpoena you to 
 attend court." 
 
 " Oh ! dear ! dear ! " exclaimed the little man, 
 "why was I ever brought into the profes- 
 sion?" 
 
 " I don't care about your profession!" I re- 
 plied. " I look upon you as an ordinary mortal 
 now; will you relate to me, or perhaps you had 
 better not. I will 
 
 "Oh! come back! Mr. Gardner! I'd poison 
 that gipsy wench if she were here; it was she 
 that came to me in the early morning with the 
 ill news that a corpse had been washed ashore
 
 98 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 in the cove, so I rushed thither, I was younger 
 then, and found the body just here. It was 
 the body of a large man about thirty years 
 old, well-clothed, with long, black, curly hair, 
 natural curls, as the water hadn't straightened 
 them out." 
 
 At this point the little doctor became silent. 
 
 " Did you consider at the time whether the 
 man died from strangulation, or by drown- 
 ing, or both? " 
 
 " At the inquest the verdict was * Found 
 drowned,' " he replied. 
 
 "Was a record made of the verdict?" I 
 inquired. 
 
 "Yes! I have it somewhere," he answered; 
 " there is a record giving a full description of 
 every corpse found on this coast." 
 
 " Anything further? " I asked. 
 
 !< Well, now I think of it, the body hadn't 
 been long in the water. It wasn't swollen like 
 drowned bodies always are; in fact, old Cap 
 Homer (he's dead now) said, ' That 'ere chap 
 swam ashore and died there, or else he's water- 
 proof, his mouth is shut, ye notice.' And so it 
 was. I remember that." 
 
 " And are the mouths of drowned bodies 
 always open? " I inquired.
 
 SEEKING EVIDENCE 99 
 
 "Always," he answered, "although I re- 
 member one that wasn't, but it had a rope tied 
 around its chin." 
 
 " And what would your inference be con- 
 cerning the fact that this particular corpse had 
 its mouth firmly closed?" 
 
 " That it died before it struck the water," the 
 doctor replied. 
 
 " But, if strangled to death, as your words 
 imply, would not that naturally keep the mouth 
 open? " 
 
 " By George ! it looks that way," he replied. 
 ' Yes, looking back at it, I think that he swam 
 ashore and died afterwards." 
 
 " From the effects of strangulation? " I in- 
 quired. 
 
 " I should say so," he answered. 
 
 " Was there nothing found about the body, 
 no papers, for instance, by which it could be 
 identified? " 
 
 'Yes! I remember! Yes; they were taken 
 from the gipsy as she was about to hide them in 
 her bosom. They were finally given to Sir 
 Anthony Croyden after the inquest, at his 
 request." 
 
 " Could you identify those papers?" I in- 
 quired.
 
 100 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 " It is hard to say," he replied. 
 
 " Well, doctor, how long since you saw the 
 gipsy? " 
 
 " She comes around here every year, usually 
 in the f all." 
 
 " Do you know where to find her? " 
 
 "No!" was his answer. 
 
 I decided to subpoena the doctor as one of 
 the witnesses, but not to serve him until the last 
 moment for fear he might disappear; and for 
 the same reason I kept the package secret lest 
 it should assist the doctor in divining my 
 purpose. 
 
 I bid the doctor good-day, returned to my 
 office, and jotted down the information I had 
 drawn from him. 
 
 Many of the antiquated fishermen remem- 
 bered the event, and expressed their firm belief 
 that George Croyden had strangled the 
 stranger, as he deserved to be; so they were 
 more likely to end George's life by their evi- 
 dence than to prolong it. 
 
 A week had now passed, but no tidings of 
 the gipsy had been received, and I began to 
 realise that the slim evidence of the little doc- 
 tor, and the package of papers, were all I had 
 to offer; too scant indeed to offset the charge.
 
 SEEKING EVIDENCE 101 
 
 I pictured Catherine Croyden's anguish if 
 the horrible doom should be fixed, and I be- 
 came so nervous that I walked to the cliff and 
 gazed upon the stormy sea; for an east wind 
 was blowing the waves mountain high, and 
 they dashed upon the Black Rock immediately 
 beneath me. 
 
 Finally I stretched myself upon the ground 
 and in this position I was confronted by a fel- 
 low in gipsy garb, who thrust a paper into my 
 hands, saying, " Knowest thou aught about 
 that? " 
 
 I jumped up instantly and exclaimed, 
 'Yes! my dear fellow! yes! Come with me!" 
 and beyond in the road fronting my office 
 stood a span of horses attached to a light- 
 running gipsy wagon. 
 
 As I approached, I spied a buxom gipsy 
 woman of about thirty-five years; her jetty 
 curls protruded here and there from under a 
 gaudy handkerchief which served as head- 
 gear. She saucily asked, "Are you the man 
 who offers a reward -for a look at Madge Mor- 
 rill, the gipsy?" 
 
 I replied, " I am the man who offered a re- 
 ward for her appearance ; will you please step 
 down? "
 
 102 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 "What do you want?" 
 
 " Did you know George Croyden? " I asked. 
 
 " Ask him," she answered, at the same time 
 pointing to the man. 
 
 That individual replied, " We knows him 
 well enough!" 
 
 " Do you know what became of him? " I 
 inquired. 
 
 " How should I know? " Madge answered. 
 
 I saw it was best to avoid any dispute with 
 her, particularly as I had no subpoena for her, 
 so I continued: 
 
 " You know, of course, that Sir Anthony 
 Croyden is dead." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 ' Would you like to see George Croyden in 
 possession of his rightful estate, or to see 
 strangers steal it from him? " 
 
 "I don't care now," she replied, " since he," 
 pointing again to the man, "is my husband; 
 and I like him well enough as gipsy husbands 
 go. But there was a time when George Croy- 
 den might be hung for all I would do for him, 
 or her." 
 
 " And I am sure you would not see George 
 hung, would you? good-natured, smiling 
 George, who never injured anybody? "
 
 1 am sure you would not see George hung, would you ? "
 
 SEEKING EVIDENCE 103 
 
 "You know nothing about that!" she 
 quickly answered. 
 
 " I have heard so," I remarked. 
 ' Well, he was a mild- tempered youth; but 
 what is this about hanging? Has George 
 Croyden been heard from? " 
 
 I answered, " George Croyden has returned 
 home. A relative in the midland counties 
 claimed the estate, but lost the case, and the 
 lawyers have now arrested George on the 
 charge of murder, and he is in the Fleet Street 
 prison. The case is to be tried next Thursday, 
 and you are the only person who can save him." 
 
 " How do you know? " she asked. 
 ' You remember the package? " 
 
 " I think so," she said hesitatingly. 
 
 " And you saw the body of the stranger? " 
 
 " Is George charged with murdering that 
 fellow? " 
 
 ' Yes," I answered. 
 
 " Well! I don't know that it will do me any 
 good to see George's face again, but I want to 
 see London, and I'll appear on certain con- 
 ditions." 
 
 " What are they? " I eagerly asked. 
 
 " That you will be responsible for the safety 
 of this team during our absence; the horses
 
 104 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 must be carefully exercised daily; that our 
 expenses in London, and to and fro, be paid; 
 and that you won't call upon me as a witness, 
 although I will be present, unless you find that 
 George is likely to hang without my evidence." 
 
 I consented to all this, went to the mansion 
 with them, instructed the groom regarding 
 the team, and arranged at the village- 
 inn for their accommodation until the follow- 
 ing Monday; then, having in the meantime 
 received a subprena from the Old Bailey, I sur- 
 prised the little doctor into threatening to 
 drown himself; but in a few hours thereof the 
 trio were on the train with me going rapidly 
 towards London town. 
 
 Catherine Croyden and Caroline travelled 
 in a separate compartment of the same train. 
 
 Having reached the metropolis, I found 
 lodgings in an old inn for the gipsies, in com- 
 pliance with their desire, and I compelled the 
 doctor to room with me, and to follow me 
 wherever the exigencies of the case required.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 TRIAL FOR MURDER THE OLD FISHERMAN'S 
 EVIDENCE 
 
 I VISITED George Croyden once more 
 in prison, but he had nothing further to 
 disclose, and seemed desirous of being 
 left alone. 
 
 Finally the day fixed for the trial arrived. 
 The Court at the Old Bailey was filled to 
 overflowing. There is a certain element in 
 every large city which appears to live off the 
 excitement furnished in the courts where crim- 
 inal cases are tried. 
 
 Catherine Croyden and her daughter sat 
 near the witness stand, where they could view 
 the face of him so long absent, and who might 
 be led away from them forever. Catherine's 
 face was veiled, but her bent head indicated her 
 gloomy forebodings. 
 
 The lawyers had so hurried matters that the 
 case was the first on the calendar. 
 
 The Lord Chief Justice, whose name we 
 must omit, was as determined a man as ever 
 
 105
 
 106 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 sat on an English bench to mete out death to 
 his fellow-mortals. Knowing his record, I had 
 little hope of any loop-hole of escape that was 
 not supported by facts. 
 
 George Croyden was brought into court 
 handcuffed to an officer, who substituted the 
 railing for himself on reaching the witness 
 stand. 
 
 The proceedings were opened with prayer, 
 and the clerk made the customary cry of 
 "Oyez, oyez"; and the lawyers who were the 
 instigators of the case, although Newton 
 Bramble was present in the background, 
 were duly sworn. 
 
 Lawyer Ketchem, who was the pleader in the 
 Chancery suit, acted also in this case, the other 
 two filling the role of coadjutors. 
 
 Mr. Ketchem opened the case by saying: 
 
 * Your Worship, eighteen years ago, on the 
 night of March 10, 1849, or the early morning 
 of the following day, a cold-blooded murder 
 was committed on the shores of East Looe, in 
 Cornwall; the body of one Edward Marshall 
 was found on the beach, and, according to the 
 record kept of such cases, was unidentified, and 
 was buried in the parish churchyard, at the ex- 
 pense of the parish.
 
 TRIAL FOR MURDER 107 
 
 " At the date of the discovery of the body, 
 George Croyden, heir to the manor of Croy- 
 den, disappeared, which added to the mystery 
 attached to the finding of the body ; and it was 
 reported at the time, and very generally be- 
 lieved, that George Croyden had been drowned 
 a generous reward offered for the finding of 
 his body failing to meet with its discovery. 
 
 " A case affecting the hereditary succession 
 to Croyden estate, in which we were employed 
 as counsel for the claimant, having miracu- 
 lously brought George Croyden to light from 
 his long hiding-place, the suspicion of foul 
 play became most strongly directed against the 
 prisoner on account of his remarkable unwill- 
 ingness to make good his claim to the estate, 
 or to recognise his wife; and the charge of 
 murder has been instituted to carry out the 
 divine ordination, that whosoever shed- 
 deth man's blood, by man shall his blood be 
 shed. 
 
 ' We are candid in stating that we have no 
 witnesses to produce, with the exception of one 
 old fisherman, the inhabitants of that district 
 being very clannish; and several of them, on 
 being approached by me for the purpose of 
 obtaining evidence, threatened to cut me up
 
 108 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 and use me for crab-bait. The present witness 
 was among that number, but discovering his 
 name, we subpoenaed him and brought him 
 hither. 
 
 " We would further state that the time which 
 has elapsed since the finding of the body ap- 
 pears to have blurred the memory of those who 
 were present. 
 
 " We will now call the witness. Joseph 
 Rhodes, step into the witness-box." 
 
 An old grey-headed fisherman stepped for- 
 ward and called out loudly, " That beant my 
 name ! " 
 
 " What is your name, then? " asked the 
 clerk. 
 
 "My name is Nicholas Stocker!" 
 
 In the process of administering the oath, on 
 being told to kiss the book, the old fisherman 
 indicated his unwillingness to testify by re- 
 marking, " I can tell the truth without having 
 to kiss anything! " 
 
 Then Mr. Ketchem began to question him. 
 
 " Nicholas Stocker, how long have you been 
 a resident of East Looe? " 
 
 " All my life," was the answer. 
 
 " How old are you? " 
 
 " Ninety-seven or so, next fishing-moon,"
 
 TRIAL FOR MURDER 109 
 
 " Do you remember anything about the dis- 
 covery of a body in the cove east of Black 
 Rock, eighteen years ago?" 
 
 " What's thou know about Black Rock? " 
 
 " Answer my question." 
 
 " I remember a host of bodies, on and off," 
 replied the old fisherman. 
 
 " I refer to one particular body discovered 
 eighteen years ago, on the night George Croy- 
 den disappeared." 
 
 "Well! what about un?" crustily asked the 
 old fisherman. 
 
 " I am asking you what you know about it," 
 spoke up Mr. Ketchem. 
 
 " All I know about un is that he were a thief! 
 and that he got just what he deserved!" 
 shouted the old man. 
 
 " We are not asking you for your opinion," 
 the lawyer testily remarked. 
 
 " No ! but ye got it," answered old Nicholas. 
 
 " What were you doing at the time of the 
 discovery of the body? " 
 
 " I was in bed, asleep. I am no night 
 prowler." 
 
 " Did you see the body? " 
 
 " I saw some of my comrades carrying it to 
 the shanty Maister Gardner now uses as an
 
 110 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 office, and I remarked, 'Pity there was a law 
 against using him for bait.' ' 
 
 "You can step down!" said' the lawyer. 
 
 " I ain't quite helpless, though I be ninety- 
 seven next fishing-moon," rejoined the old fish- 
 erman.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE PRISONER'S EVIDENCE 
 
 THE lawyer, somewhat disconcerted at 
 the result of Nicholas Stacker's tes- 
 timony, addressed the judge, saying: 
 " We have no alternative but to 
 ask the Court to direct the prisoner to proceed 
 with the explanation of his disappearance on 
 the fatal day, granting us the privilege of 
 cross-examining him afterwards." 
 
 The judge, who was nothing if not severe, 
 directed that the prisoner be sworn. 
 
 George Croyden took the Testament, 
 pressed it to his lips with a steady hand, and 
 returned it to the clerk. 
 
 I then addressed the judge, saying, " Am I 
 to understand, your Worship, that you will 
 compel the prisoner to give information which 
 may, through the absence of absolute knowl- 
 edge of the facts by the prosecution, lead to 
 his own conviction? " 
 
 " He is merely required to explain his dis- 
 111
 
 112 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 appearance from East Looe since the finding 
 of the body," answered the judge. 
 
 " I think, your Worship, that his wife has 
 the moral and legal right to ask that question. 
 There is positively no evidence to prove that 
 the prisoner ever saw the individual whose body 
 was found." 
 
 ' There is enough circumstantial evidence to 
 indicate that he knows all about it! " the judge 
 tartly answered. 
 
 " Your Worship, in making such a serious 
 charge, it would appear from all precedent that 
 there should be a reason advanced for associat- 
 ing my client with the case; there is usually a 
 motive when a murder is committed. Before 
 George Croyden is called upon to answer for 
 his life, I think any knowledge which the prose- 
 cution may have concerning the prisoner's 
 guilt should be introduced. In the first place, 
 the parties whose names figure in the prosecu- 
 tion, believing George Croyden to be dead, and 
 knowing that the record of the marriage had 
 been stolen from the register, instituted a suit 
 on behalf of one Newton Bramble, as claimant 
 to the estate of Croyden ; and the production of 
 the certificate frustrated their designs. 
 
 " Now, I would ask, how comes it that these
 
 THE PRISONER'S EVIDENCE 113 
 
 men, living so far away from East Looe, are so 
 familiar with the facts concerning the finding 
 of the body, even to knowing the name of the 
 individual, something not before obtainable; 
 and also what connection they had with the 
 theft of the certificate? " 
 
 The lawyers conferred, and Mr. Ketchem 
 replied that they were not on trial; that such 
 questions might possibly be permissible later in 
 the trial, but at this stage they would materially 
 strengthen the prisoner's defence. 
 
 " Am I to understand, your Worship, that 
 the prisoner is put on his defence?" 
 
 The judge replied, " The allegation as set 
 forth is sufficient reason in such a charge." 
 
 Knowing that it was no use to take an 
 exception to his Worship's ruling, I turned to 
 the prisoner and said in an undertone, " You 
 are on trial for your life. For your wife's 
 sake, who is well-nigh frantic with grief, and 
 for your daughter's honour, who is to live after 
 you, arouse yourself and make the effort of 
 your life. The sun will shine brighter upon 
 your future life after these dark clouds are 
 swept away. Give a succinct account of your 
 doings since the fatal day." 
 
 Thus adjured, George Croyden looked at
 
 114 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 the judge, and intuitively feeling that there 
 was no sympathy to be derived from that quar- 
 ter, he turned around and faced the jury. 
 
 He began slowly at first, as though the re- 
 membrance of that fatal day was painful to 
 him; but he soon warmed up to a relation of 
 his doings. 
 
 " My name is George Croyden, only son of 
 the late Sir .^thony Croyden, of the manor of 
 Croyden, in the parish of East Looe. 
 
 " After I had left college, having no profes- 
 sion or fixed occupation beyond that of follow- 
 ing in my father's footsteps as the possessor of 
 Croyden Manor, I roamed about the estate and 
 surrounding country, whiling the time away in 
 contemplation, as is the custom of young men 
 in similar circumstances. 
 
 " At the age of twenty-three years I became 
 enamoured of Catherine Penistan, only daugh- 
 ter of the Reverend Howard Penistan, then 
 rector of East Looe ; and against the wishes of 
 my father, we were married. 
 
 "We lived very happily together at the rec- 
 tory, my mother visiting us frequently. 
 
 " One evening, about seven months after our 
 marriage, as I was strolling about the rectory 
 grounds, I saw a light flash in the vestry room
 
 THE PRISONER'S EVIDENCE 115 
 
 of the church, which is not far distant from the 
 rectory, and without stopping to notify my 
 wife, I hastened thither, and looking through 
 the vestry window, I saw a strange man in the 
 act of abstracting a leaf from a book which lay 
 on the table. Without reflecting upon the 
 damage I might do, but realising that the rob- 
 bery was a sacrilege, I took a stone from the 
 wall forming the boundary of the churchyard, 
 and hurled it through the window. An iron bar 
 to which the leaded window was secured di- 
 verted the stone so that it missed my aim. The 
 stranger rapidly folded the abstracted leaf, 
 and placing it in his bosom, seized the dark lan- 
 tern which was on the table, and fled the room. 
 Hastening around to intercept him, the 
 stranger eluded me by hiding in one of the 
 pews, and escaped through a side door of the 
 church immediately after I had entered. I 
 followed in pursuit, but the spot being dark, 
 he could not be clearly discerned, although I 
 heard his footsteps speeding towards the 
 shore. 
 
 " I reached the beach in time to hear the 
 splash of oars, and concluding from the phos- 
 phorescent flash that the man was unacquainted 
 with the lay of the coast, I threw myself into
 
 116 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 the water and swam after the boat, reaching it 
 just outside a dangerous promontory locally 
 known as the Black Rock. I seized one of the 
 oars and twisted it from the stranger's grasp, 
 so as to impede his progress, and immediately 
 he arose in the boat and struck me with the 
 other oar, but the water prevented it from seri- 
 ously injuring me. I seized this oar also and 
 wrenched it from him; the motion brought his 
 body towards the gunwale, and seizing him by 
 the throat with one hand, I held him until he 
 relaxed his grip, which was likewise on my 
 throat. I then placed my hand in his bosom 
 and recovered the stolen certificate, and started 
 to swim ashore. 
 
 " I had not proceeded far when a call from 
 the boat for help decided me to return and 
 guide the boat ashore; but I had no sooner 
 reached the boat than the stranger struck me in 
 the neck with a knife. Then I again started 
 for the shore, when I became unconscious, and 
 I knew no more until the following day, when 
 I found myself in a gipsy caravan, with 
 Madge Morrill, a gipsy lass, standing over me. 
 
 "I inquired how I came there, and she 
 answered that I had run against her the pre- 
 vious evening, and imagining that something
 
 THE PRISONER'S EVIDENCE 117 
 
 unusual was the matter, she had followed me; 
 and later had found me washed on the shore 
 near Black Rock, and had summoned the men 
 from the camp to take me thither. 
 
 ' Without exhibiting the slightest sympathy 
 or regret, she also informed me that my wife 
 had been drowned. I attempted to arise, but 
 was so weak through loss of blood that I fell 
 back unconscious. After a few days I gained 
 sufficient strength to stand, and desired to 
 visit my wife's grave. 
 
 ; ' There was nothing said at the time about 
 the discovery of the stranger's body, but with 
 the assistance of two of the gipsy men I visited 
 what I supposed, and was informed, was my 
 wife's grave; but which, in fact, as I recently 
 discovered, was the grave of the stranger. 
 
 " I again became unconscious through bod- 
 ily weakness, and when I recovered it was to 
 find the caravan moving away from the neigh- 
 bourhood. 
 
 ' The time which elapsed before I fully re- 
 covered my strength was several weeks; and 
 realising that my wife was lost to me, and that 
 my father was the indirect cause of it, and 
 taking umbrage thereat, I decided to go to 
 foreign shores.
 
 118 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 " I took passage from Plymouth for Mexico, 
 where I worked in the gold fields for several 
 years ; and from there I went to Buenos Ayres, 
 where I remained until a few months ago, 
 when enquiry being made concerning my par- 
 ents, I was shocked to discover that my wife 
 and a daughter were alive. 
 
 " I returned to the scenes of my youth, and 
 after baffling an attempt to wrest Croyden es- 
 tate from its rightful owner, I was arrested on 
 the grave charge of murder. 
 
 " If I am guilty in aught I have committed, 
 I am prepared to meet the full penalty of the 
 law ; but my heart has ever been free from any 
 knowledge of guilt, although filled with over- 
 whelming sorrow which my youth encoun- 
 tered." 
 
 " Have you finished? " asked his Worship. 
 
 " I think of nothing else," replied the pris- 
 oner. 
 
 At this point I interposed the question, 
 ' You knew nothing of the discovery of the 
 stranger's body after the attack? " 
 
 Mr. Ketchem objected on the ground that 
 it was putting a negative question into the pris- 
 oner's mouth. 
 
 " Objection sustained," said his Worship.
 
 THE PRISONER'S EVIDENCE 119 
 
 " Did you hear anything of the discovery of 
 the body before you went abroad?" I next 
 asked. 
 
 Here again the lawyer interrupted by say- 
 ing, " It is taken for granted that the prisoner 
 did know. It was impossible for it to be con- 
 cealed." 
 
 Ignoring this remark, I said to the prisoner, 
 " Answer my question quickly." 
 
 The prisoner replied, " I knew nothing about 
 the discovery of the body until after my return 
 from abroad a few months ago." 
 
 ' You left the stranger in the boat after you 
 were stabbed, and swam away? " 
 
 " He was kneeling in the boat as he lowered 
 the knife into my body, and I swam away leav- 
 ing him in that position." 
 
 " We object," said the prosecution, " on the 
 ground that the prisoner already stated that the 
 night was dark." 
 
 " Objection sustained," said the judge. 
 
 " In what location was the boat at the time 
 of the stabbing?" I inquired. 
 
 ' We object on the same ground, that the 
 night was dark," said Mr. Ketchem. 
 
 " Objection sustained," said the judge. 
 
 I then addressed the court, stating that I had
 
 120 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 no desire to compel that the prisoner's replies 
 to these questions be put in evidence; but hav- 
 ing familiarised myself with every foot of the 
 coast, I asked for my own information. My 
 reasons would appear later. 
 
 Here Mr. Ketchem again interposed that 
 valuable time was being taken up by the de- 
 fence in propounding illogical questions. 
 
 I warmly retorted that I didn't care if it took 
 the court's time until doomsday, as long as 
 there was a thread of hope for the prisoner. 
 
 Not waiting for the judge to comment on 
 this remark, I said to the prisoner, " Answer 
 the question!" 
 
 " To the west of the Black Rock." 
 
 :< We object to this forcing of answers," said 
 the prosecution. 
 
 The judge said, " I think, Mr. Gardner, that 
 your questions should be put in such a deliber- 
 ate manner that the prosecution may have an 
 opportunity to object before the answers are 
 given." 
 
 ' Then, your Worship, I will keep on ask- 
 ing, and they can continue objecting. I don't 
 propose to let this man drift to the gallows 
 for the sake of opening my mouth a few 
 times."
 
 THE PRISONER'S EVIDENCE 121 
 
 " Have you experienced any such cases be- 
 fore? " inquired his Worship. 
 
 " No, your Worship ; and if I ever do again, 
 I will take care that my client shall benefit by 
 my experience in the rulings of this court."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S EVIDENCE 
 
 A his juncture I called the doctor to 
 the stand. He came tremblingly, 
 uttering in an undertone, " Mercy ! 
 gentlemen, mercy! I am only a 
 doctor, a very little man." 
 
 The doctor having been sworn, I addressed 
 him, saying, "Pay attention to me, sir! Do 
 you understand what the prisoner is being tried 
 for? " 
 
 "Certainly. Murder! murder!" the doctor 
 replied, in a voice which belied his apparent 
 fear. 
 
 " He is being tried for his life," I continued, 
 " and if you know of anything in the evidence 
 which has been adduced that can be strength- 
 ened by facts coming under your observation 
 at the time of the finding of the stranger's 
 body, it is your bounden duty to give it. You 
 must not misinterpret the questions put by men 
 anxious to bring their fellow-man to the gal- 
 
 122
 
 THE DOCTOR'S EVIDENCE 123 
 
 lows, nor fear the majesty of the law when it is 
 arrayed in garments likely to awe the uniniti- 
 ated ; you simply have to respect your oath and 
 fear nothing." 
 
 ;< We object," said the prosecution. "It is 
 conveyed in the manner of a threat; it is calcu- 
 lated to intimidate the witness." 
 
 " I think, Mr. Gardner, the witness is old 
 enough to answer for himself," said his Wor- 
 ship. 
 
 " Some animals need the whip," I precipi- 
 tately observed. 
 
 " Do you compare the witness to a horse? " 
 asked the judge. 
 
 " There are animals more stubborn than the 
 horse," I replied; "but I will leave the com- 
 parison until after the witness has given his 
 evidence." 
 
 I then commanded the doctor to repeat in a 
 loud voice what he saw on the fatal day, eight- 
 een years ago. 
 
 Thus adjured, the little man swelled with im- 
 portance, and spoke as follows: 
 
 " I heard the report of George Croyden 
 being missed, and went to the cliffs, thinking 
 he might have fallen therefrom; then I de- 
 scended to the beach and found Madge Morrill,
 
 124 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 the gipsy wench, standing over the body of a 
 man. I felt his pulse. He was dead, although 
 his body was warm; he could not have been 
 dead very long. 
 
 " I said to the gipsy lass, ' When did you 
 find the body? ' She answered, * About an 
 hour ago. He was just alive then ; he gave me 
 these papers, and pointed to some writing on 
 the back of one of them ; he was too ill to speak ; 
 he vomited terribly.' 
 
 " I observed that his mouth was closed, and 
 that his knees were drawn up to his stomach. 
 
 :< We held an inquest, and a verdict was ren- 
 dered ' found drowned.' There was nothing 
 in the package of papers, nor about his person, 
 to indicate his name or where he came from ; he 
 was buried in the churchyard." 
 
 : ' What became of the papers which you 
 state the gipsy girl had in her hands?" I 
 inquired. 
 
 " I took them from her. She was unwilling 
 to relinquish them at first, but upon threaten- 
 ing her with imprisonment, she reluctantly 
 gave them up to me." 
 
 ' Was there anything about those papers 
 that you could remember, or that you could 
 identify? "
 
 Here the prosecution objected on the ground 
 that it was unlikely, after a period of eighteen 
 years, that the memory could be relied upon for 
 a knowledge sufficient to entitle it to credence 
 in a murder case. 
 
 I replied, " I intend that those papers shall 
 be put in evidence, and I insist upon getting 
 an answer to the question." 
 
 The little doctor answered, " There was a 
 peculiarity about the package which I don't 
 recall to mind for the moment; I think, how- 
 ever, that I could identify it." 
 
 Taking the package from my pocket and 
 passing it to the doctor, I asked, " Is there any- 
 thing about this package to remind you of 
 that handed to you by the gipsy girl? " 
 
 Here the prosecution objected that unless 
 the papers were marked at the time by a re- 
 sponsible person, and that mark re-established 
 under oath by the same individual, they could 
 not be put in evidence. 
 
 The judge interposed to ask if the papers 
 had been so marked. 
 
 I replied, " I hope to connect the finding of 
 the stranger's body in the condition explained 
 by the evidence, through the identity of this 
 package; but I insist upon propounding as
 
 126 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 many questions as I deem necessary re- 
 garding it. 
 
 " I think you will," curtly replied his 
 Worship. 
 
 I again addressed the doctor. ' What have 
 you to say regarding the identity of this 
 package? " 
 
 The doctor replied, " I recognise in it a sim- 
 ilarity to the package handed to me by the 
 gipsy ; I remember particularly this gew-gaw," 
 pointing to the chain, "because the gipsy 
 demanded it back as belonging to her; and I 
 also remember a pencil memorandum which the 
 gipsy stated the stranger had pointed out to 
 her." 
 
 ; ' What was the purport of that writing? " 
 
 Here again the prosecution vehemently ob- 
 jected that the question was irrelevant. 
 
 I insisted that it was the turning point of the 
 case. 
 
 The judge sustained the question. 
 ." It referred to the drowning of the man who 
 assaulted him, but not knowing of any attack 
 at the time, it was not understood; now it is 
 apparent that " 
 
 " Stop! stop! " yelled Mr. Ketchem. 
 
 " Stop! " cried the judge.
 
 THE DOCTOR'S EVIDENCE 127 
 
 that George Croyden was intended," 
 concluded the little doctor. 
 
 *' Strike that off the records," said the judge. 
 
 " That is all for the present," I said to the 
 doctor. " You would have made a good 
 lawyer. Take your seat and don't leave it." 
 
 I then called for Madge Morrill, the gipsy.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE GIPSY'S EVIDENCE 
 
 MADGE appeared with the hand- 
 kerchief still fastened around her 
 head. 
 
 The gipsy having been sworn, 
 I said to her, "Madge Merrill, look at the 
 prisoner, and tell me if you can identify 
 him." 
 
 She looked saucily at George Croyden, and 
 said to him, " Who am I? " 
 
 The prisoner answered, " You are Madge 
 Morrill, I should say." 
 
 " And you are George Croyden," she 
 replied. 
 
 Here the prosecution interfered, saying, 
 ' The identity on both sides is a mere supposi- 
 tion, inasmuch as there was an apparent hesi- 
 tation." 
 
 ' Well, there is no doubt about their per- 
 sonal identity," I replied ; " and there are facts 
 connected with these two individuals which I 
 am bound to elucidate." 
 
 128
 
 THE GIPSY'S EVIDENCE 129 
 
 Here the prosecution again interposed, and 
 said, " Your Worship, we think it but fair that 
 we should investigate the moral character of 
 the witness before her testimony is accepted." 
 
 The gipsy retorted, " My moral character 
 will stand a better test than yours, I'll go bail." 
 
 The judge commanded her to keep silence 
 or he would commit her for contempt. 
 
 I replied to this unmanly and unjust threat, 
 ' Your Worship, it is characteristic of the 
 prosecution to attempt to slander all the testi- 
 mony I produce; I think the retaliation is not 
 out of place ; I earnestly endorse it." 
 
 " It is not a time for bandying words," his 
 Worship replied. 
 
 Mr. Ketchem said, " We would like to ask 
 this woman a few questions." 
 
 " How long had you known George Croy- 
 den before his marriage? " 
 
 " I knew him by name ever since I was a lit- 
 tle child; our caravan was in the habit of 
 locating in the woods at the back of Croyden 
 
 mansion." 
 
 ' Were you on intimate terms with him? " 
 ' Yes, quite well ; we were almost like real 
 lovers." 
 
 At this point I interposed by saying,
 
 130 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 " Madge, your definition of the word intimate 
 is possibly the correct one, but it is not what 
 these men wish to imply or convey. In plain 
 English, as they should put the question, it is : 
 ' Were you guilty of any impropriety or unus- 
 ual conduct with George Croydon,' that is, 
 any immoral behaviour? " 
 
 "Never! never! George never even kissed 
 me, although he might have hundreds of times 
 if he wanted to; he was always a gentleman, 
 full of fun, but he never once went beyond 
 that." Then realising that the prosecution 
 was trying to injure George Croyden at the 
 expense of her character, she shook her fist at 
 the lawyer, and said, "I'll be bound you would, 
 and if your name is "Ketchup, you are the fel- 
 low who came to our camp a few days after the 
 stranger was discovered, to inquire concerning 
 that package and the wedding certificate, and 
 you were not as particular as George was, 
 either; but I didn't want you, and threatened 
 to turn the dogs on you if you didn't quit the 
 locality." 
 
 After this retort she looked at him with her 
 jetty eyes until the lawyer was completely 
 cowed. 
 
 I then said to the witness, " Relate what you
 
 THE GIPSY'S EVIDENCE 131 
 
 know of the prisoner up to the time of his leav- 
 ing your caravan to go abroad." 
 
 " I first got on speaking acquaintance with 
 George Croyden when he returned from col- 
 lege; he would frequently visit the neighbour- 
 hood of our encampment, and would some- 
 times stop to talk with me. 
 
 " Once he patted me on the face, and said, 
 ' You are not a bad-looking girl, but your hair 
 needs grooming.' I swore at him, and he went 
 away laughing. 
 
 ' The next time I saw him, he was driving a 
 pair of colts, and they had silver curb-chains 
 on. I had my face washed, and my hair was 
 combed out so that it hung down to my feet; 
 he stopped on seeing me, and said, ' Madge, 
 you look as fresh as a rose. I am almost 
 tempted to come down and kiss you/ 
 
 " ' Why don't you? ' I asked, 
 
 " He laughed at this. 
 
 " I said, ' What are you going to give me for 
 a birthday present? ' 
 
 " He answered, ' Do gipsies have birth- 
 days? ' 
 
 ' Of course they do,' I replied. 
 ' What would you like ? ' said he. 
 
 " ' A gold ring,' said I.
 
 132 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 " ' That you can't have,' said he, ' because it 
 is a token of affection. Name something 
 else.' 
 
 " * Give me a pair of those silver curb- 
 chains,' said I. 
 
 " He drove away, but the very next time he 
 came our way he tossed me a small package, 
 saying, ' Don't put those in your nose or ears, 
 Madge.' 
 
 ' I know where to put them,' said I. 
 
 " The next time I saw him was at the rectory 
 when he was courting the rector's daughter. 
 
 " And the next time after that I was hang- 
 ing around the village one night after he was 
 married, and seeing a man running towards the 
 shore with George chasing him, I followed, 
 feeling that something unusual was the matter. 
 I saw George plunge into the sea, and after 
 that the waves deadened all other sounds. 
 
 " I went around the cliff to the cove, and 
 after a considerable time a body was thrown 
 upon the beach by the waves. I went up to it, 
 and found it was George, and he seemed to be 
 dead. I dragged him beyond the rising tide, 
 and hastened to the camp for help, and our 
 men assisted me in taking him to my wagon; 
 there we restored him to consciousness.
 
 Don't put those in your nose or ears, Madge "
 
 THE GIPSY'S EVIDENCE 133 
 
 " Going again to the beach in the early 
 morning to see what became of the other man, 
 I found him sitting at the base of the cliff in 
 the same cove. He had crawled up there, 
 thinking the tide might reach him, but it only 
 comes that high in very stormy weather. 
 
 " I went up to him. He was vomiting 
 badly, and his knees went up to his chin every 
 time he vomited. He couldn't speak for vom- 
 iting, but he took out a package of papers, and 
 pointing to some writing on the back of one, 
 passed the package over to me. The papers 
 were loose, so I took one of the silver curb- 
 chains which George had given me, and 
 fastened it around them. 
 
 " Shortly after this the man gasped horribly 
 and died. 
 
 " Not long afterwards, I saw somebody ap- 
 proaching, and the doctor, this little fellow 
 here (turning around and pointing at the 
 doctor) , came up and said, c What have you 
 here, girl? ' Then he felt the man's wrist and 
 said, ' Hasn't been dead long.' Then he began 
 to search the man's pockets. I said, ' These 
 are his papers ; he gave them to me.' The doc- 
 tor demanded the papers, and I refused to give 
 them up ; but he threatened to send me to gaol
 
 134 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 for the balance of my natural life and to warm 
 quarters afterwards, and snatched the package 
 from me. 
 
 " I asked him to give back my curb-chain, 
 but he refused. I then got mad, and I 
 thought, ' George Croyden didn't care for me, 
 so I'll just make trouble for him,' and I started 
 to find his wife, and on the way I met her hur- 
 rying to the cliffs. I said to her, ' George is 
 drowned.' She screamed and rushed towards 
 the cliff. I followed, and saw her slide down 
 its dizzy side, bounce out and strike the Black 
 Rock, and then fall into the sea. 
 
 " Sir Anthony Croyden and his servants, 
 who were searching among the rocks, saw her, 
 and saved her from drowning. 
 
 " I thought I would make a complete job by 
 telling George his wife was drowned. He 
 grew frantic, and tried to leave the wagon, but 
 he was too weak, and fell back unconscious. 
 When he recovered, he appealed so pathetically 
 to be taken to his wife's grave, that two of our 
 men led him to that of the stranger; he fell 
 upon it, and carried on so pitifully that I was 
 sorry for what I had done. But I loved him, 
 and I couldn't undo it. 
 
 " After that we journeyed up the country
 
 THE GIPSY'S EVIDENCE 135 
 
 by easy stages, and one day George stole away, 
 and I never saw him again until to-day; and 
 that is all I know, and now I will go back to 
 East Looe." 
 
 " One moment, Madge," I said ; and taking 
 the package and passing it to her, I asked, 
 " Can you identify any part of this package? " 
 
 Madge looked at it, and said, " Yes ; here is 
 one of the curb-chains which George gave me." 
 
 "Do you recognise the handwriting?" I in- 
 quired. 
 
 " No," she answered. " I know that at the 
 time I understood it to mean that the man 
 who attacked the stranger was drowned, and 
 that meant George, of course." 
 
 Here again the prosecution interposed. 
 They said that the witness acknowledged she 
 could not identify the writing or any part of 
 the package except by the presence of the curb- 
 chain, and there were thousands of curb-chains 
 of similar design in use; they objected there- 
 fore to the latter being put in evidence. 
 
 I answered, " There could be no clearer evi- 
 dence than that established by the present wit- 
 ness. If the production of this package, 
 found as it was by me among the late Sir 
 Anthony Croyden's papers, who, the doctor
 
 136 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 stated, was given the custody of it, and which 
 is fully identified by the woman, is not conclu- 
 sive, there is no use attempting to produce any 
 evidence whatever on behalf of the prisoner." 
 
 I was fumbling the package, and was struck 
 by the presence of two short pieces of silk rib- 
 bon which were fastened to each end of the 
 chain, and used as a means to form a bow on 
 the package. 
 
 I asked the witness, " Did the curb-chain 
 which you used on the package have any 
 appendage, i.e., anything else fastened to it? " 
 
 * Yes," was the answer, " I used them for 
 garters, and not being long enough, I tied rib- 
 bons to each end, to secure them with, some- 
 thing like this"; and without a moment's 
 hesitation or a blush, she bent over, and lifting 
 her skirts, fumbled around a few seconds, and 
 produced a silver curb-chain with ribbons 
 attached. 
 
 Taking it from her, and blushing the while, 
 I dangled it before the eyes of the astonished 
 jurymen, saying : " What need ye of any 
 further witness? " Then taking its mate from 
 the package, I passed them to the foreman of 
 the jury, a grey-bearded old gentleman, who 
 took them and examined them, smiling the
 
 THE GIPSY'S EVIDENCE 137 
 
 while, and afterwards he passed them around 
 to his companions. 
 
 I then remarked in a loud voice, " Gentle- 
 men! if any further proof is necessary of the 
 innocence of the prisoner, it must come from 
 Edward Marshall, out of the grave!"
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 SUMMING UP 
 
 TURNING to the judge, I said: 
 " And now, your Worship, I desire 
 to say a few words touching the 
 character of the three individuals 
 who have dared to take the liberty of appear- 
 ing in one of her Majesty's courts as prose- 
 cutors. 
 
 " Chagrined at the loss of a case instituted 
 in Chancery to wrest by foul means an estate 
 belonging to others, they trumped up this 
 murder charge on the chance of there being no 
 proof against it. It mattered not to them 
 whether the rightful owner came into posses- 
 sion of the property, they cared nothing 
 whether the innocent man before you was 
 hanged, as long as their personal wishes were 
 realised, and what those wishes are, emanating 
 from such debased minds, it is not difficult to 
 imagine. 
 
 " These men were the real perpetrators of 
 
 138
 
 SUMMING UP 139 
 
 the theft of the marriage certificate at the 
 vestry eighteen years ago; they are the ones 
 who hired Edward Marshall to go down to 
 East Looe and steal the certificate; they are 
 the indirect cause of that man's death." 
 
 Holding up the package, I exclaimed, 
 " These papers are stained with that man's 
 blood! 
 
 " There is nothing in the evidence to indi- 
 cate that George Croyden was responsible for 
 the death of Edward Marshall, but on the con- 
 trary, the latter's death was brought about 
 through his own carelessness in trusting him- 
 self to the mercy of a treacherous coast un- 
 known to him. It was the bounden duty of 
 George Croyden, or any other right-minded 
 man, to arrest the thief; in so doing George 
 Croyden not only jeopardised his own life, but 
 through the complications that followed, was 
 compelled to live a life full of sorrowful 
 reflections. 
 
 " I not only ask that the prisoner be released, 
 free from every stain upon his character, but 
 that the court take steps to impeach these three 
 knaves who caused his arrest." 
 
 The judge leered upon me, and remarked, 
 " This is strong language!"
 
 140 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 I responded, " It is not strong enough ! such 
 rascals should be made an example of for their 
 temerity and audacity in appearing as advo- 
 cates of her Majesty's laws!" 
 
 The court became in an uproar, but the 
 judge soon restored order by rapping his 
 gavel. 
 
 " You are disturbing the equanimity of this 
 court room," the judge remarked; then turning 
 to the jury he said: " Gentlemen of the jury, 
 attend to me. 
 
 ' You have followed the incidents leading 
 up to the murder of Edward Marshall at East 
 Looe ; you have heard the evidence. 
 
 : ' The question, in my judgment, is not so 
 much whether the baubles exhibited by the 
 gipsy witness are the same as presented to her 
 by the prisoner, but as to whether Edward 
 Marshall came to his death by strangulation 
 at the hands of George Croyden, or by drown- 
 ing, or both causes, such as being weakened by 
 strangulation beyond the power to preserve 
 himself in the water. 
 
 '' If you consider his death caused by stran- 
 gulation, you will render a verdict accordingly ; 
 if by strangulation and drowning combined, 
 you will so render it; in either case, let your
 
 SUMMING UP 141 
 
 decision be framed with a due respect for the 
 law in such cases made and provided." 
 
 I held up my hand and said: " Your Wor- 
 ship, it must not be forgotten that those pres- 
 ent at the inquest, who saw the body and were 
 more capable of judging of the cause of death 
 than entire strangers to the event are eighteen 
 years afterward, rendered a verdict that the 
 man was found drowned, meaning that the 
 cause of death was drowning." 
 
 The judge looked at me savagely, then said 
 to the jury, " You have my charge, please 
 retire." 
 
 Neither Catherine Croyden nor her daughter 
 had been called upon during the trial, but they 
 sat in the front seat facing the judge and the 
 prisoner, and I was too deeply concerned 
 throughout the trial to go to them. 
 
 The jury had retired, and I sat watching 
 the three scoundrels on the opposite side of the 
 counsel table; they were huddled in a bunch 
 along with the erstwhile claimant, and were 
 gesticulating to each other like Frenchmen. 
 
 Turning around I looked at the prisoner, 
 who stood gazing in an undefined way, and 
 appeared to be the least concerned as to what 
 fate awaited him. His thoughts were evi-
 
 142 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 dently far away from the court room. At 
 that moment an officer appeared and took him 
 away to a cell to await his final call for judg- 
 ment; and the judge subsequently left his seat 
 to partake of refreshment.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE VERDICT 
 
 IT was shortly after one o'clock when the 
 judge resumed his seat, and after nerv- 
 ously handling some papers which lay 
 before him, he gazed in a curious manner 
 around the court room, which had become 
 darkened by a portending storm without. 
 
 He then ordered the jury to appear, also 
 that the prisoner be brought before him. 
 
 George Croyden was the first to arrive. He 
 was led in from his cell handcuffed to an officer, 
 and appeared to be unconcerned. 
 
 The officer stood in the dock beside him 
 without removing the manacles, reasoning 
 from previous experiences that it was a mat- 
 ter of a few minutes only before the prisoner 
 would have to be escorted back to his cell again. 
 At this point the jury came in. The pris- 
 oner glanced at them as though his attention 
 was merely attracted by moving objects. 
 Nearly all of the jurymen eyed the prisoner as 
 they passed him. 
 
 143
 
 144 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 The court crier stepped forward and ad- 
 dressed the jury, saying: 
 
 " During the rendition of the verdict, the 
 jurors will arise and remain standing until the 
 same is officially recorded and announced." 
 Then with a motion, he signalled the jurors to 
 arise, and said solemnly, " Jurors, look upon 
 the prisoner. Prisoner look upon the jurors.'* 
 
 At that moment a flash of lightning lit up 
 the room, and was followed by an awful crash 
 of thunder immediately overhead, resembling 
 the discharge of heavy artillery. 
 
 As the lightning's glare died away, the room 
 became wrapped in inky darkness, and the vast 
 audience was awed into silence. 
 
 Suddenly a clarion voice resounded, " This 
 room requires the lightnings of heaven to 
 pierce the gloom of death with which its atmo- 
 sphere is darkened ! " 
 
 Again the lightning flashed, and again the 
 thunder crashed, and again from out the inky 
 darkness that clarion voice resounded: 
 
 ;< The judge of all men sends His mighty 
 voice and flaming sword to free the innocent! " 
 
 For several minutes a dead silence prevailed 
 as though the court were wrapped in death. 
 
 As the darkness began to clear away, the
 
 THE VERDICT 145 
 
 prosecutors were seen huddled in a bunch, 
 cowed by the awful revelations; and the 
 judge was as immobile as death. 
 
 Finally the judge directed the crier to pro- 
 ceed, and he resumed, " How say you, gentle- 
 men of the jury, do you find the prisoner at 
 the bar, George Croyden, guilty of the felony 
 of murder whereof he stands indicted, or not 
 guilty?" 
 
 The foreman of the jury, holding a paper in 
 his hand, which he flourished as he spoke, raised 
 his voice to the bawling pitch, exclaiming: 
 ' We are unanimous in finding the prisoner 
 'not guilty,' and we have reduced it to writing 
 so that there may be no mistake about it; 
 and we have also appended our belief that the 
 charge was trumped up by men devoid of char- 
 acter, not for the purpose of supporting the 
 law, but for their own aggrandizement." 
 
 The audience displayed its satisfaction by 
 smiles and audible whisperings, a few hysteri- 
 cal ones going to the shocking extreme of 
 shouting "hurrah," and were ignominiously 
 expelled from the court room. One little old 
 man, in his enthusiasm, shouted " Gentle 
 Jesus," 1 and was found on the court-house 
 1 Witnessed by the author.
 
 146 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 steps late in the day, still rubbing his head as a 
 result of his blasphemy. 
 
 As soon as order was restored the judge 
 
 frowned on the foreman, and tartly answered, 
 
 ' You have done your duty in rendering your 
 
 verdict; it is not necessary for you to give 
 
 your opinions regarding the case." 
 
 ' We think it is due to this innocent man that 
 we voice our sentiments to the world," said 
 greybeard. 
 
 " The world is not trying this case," replied 
 the judge. 
 
 " We think the world would be better for 
 knowing it," replied the old gentleman. 
 
 "Cease thy talk, man! I pass the verdict 
 here." Then scowling at the prisoner, he con- 
 tinued, " Prisoner, look at me." 
 
 George Croyden turned in an unconcerned 
 manner and looked at the judge, who said, 
 " Fortunately for you, the verdict has been 
 rendered in your favour, consequently you are 
 at liberty to walk away from this court, a free 
 man; it has not been made clear to me, how- 
 ever, how Edward Marshall met his death." 
 
 To the surprise of the judge and to all pres- 
 ent the prisoner answered : " Neither has it 
 been made clear to me, but this I do know,
 
 THE VERDICT 147 
 
 although it happened eighteen years ago, it 
 has been efficacious in creating a living death 
 for me. But for the stigma, I prefer to go 
 down to the grave." Then turning to the jury 
 and bowing, he said: " I thank you, gentle- 
 men," but he did not leave the dock. 
 
 As soon as the judge had rendered the ver- 
 dict, Catherine Croyden arose to go to her 
 husband, but as soon as he commenced his 
 statement she stopped, and listened eagerly to 
 his words, and as she divined their meaning, 
 she uplifted her hands, and with an agonised 
 cry, fell into the arms of her daughter.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 BEFORE LEAVING THE COURT ROOM 
 
 YOU are discharged," said the judge. 
 Still the prisoner did not move. 
 " You had better explain to your 
 client," remarked the judge, ad- 
 dressing me. 
 
 I answered, " I wish to ask your Worship, if 
 in making a record of the verdict you intend 
 incorporating the censure made by the jury 
 against the conspirators in this case? " 
 
 " It is unnecessary," replied the judge. 
 
 " It would be only charitable to do so," I 
 replied, " but since the writing is unnecessary 
 among the court records, will you kindly give 
 me the written verdict, so that my client can 
 preserve it? " 
 
 " It is the property of the court," answered 
 the judge." 
 
 " Mr. Gardner, I will see that you get a 
 duplicate engrossed on parchment," testily put 
 in the foreman of the jury. 
 
 148
 
 BEFORE LEAFING COURT 149 
 
 At this stage, Madge Morrill, who had 
 waited to hear the verdict, bawled out, " Give 
 me back my silver curb-chains! give me back 
 my garters!" 
 
 "Put that hussy out!" shouted the judge. 
 
 " My stocking is coming 
 
 Here an officer came forward and seized her, 
 but her husband intervened, and it looked as 
 though an ugly broil would ensue. 
 
 I stepped to Madge Morrill, and said, 
 " Madge, those chains must be preserved. 
 Stop at East Looe and you shall get a diamond 
 pair." Madge then left the court with her 
 husband. 
 
 George Croyden beckoned me to him and 
 whispered, " Explain to Mistress Croyden that 
 I am unfit to converse with her at this time ; the 
 disclosures of to-day have disturbed my mind, 
 so that I beg her to be gracious to me until I 
 reach East Looe ; I shall go thither at once." 
 
 George Croyden left the court with bowed 
 head. Catherine Croyden arose and looked 
 anxiously after his retreating figure, and I 
 went to her and explained what he had desired 
 me to say. 
 
 She sighed, and said : " Come, Caroline, we 
 will go home also."
 
 150 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 Catherine was so concerned over the trial 
 that she left all her luggage behind her. 
 
 And now, the charge of murder ended, it 
 may interest the lovers of justice to learn that 
 within a very few weeks after this trial the 
 judge who officiated was examined by qualified 
 physicians appointed for that purpose, who 
 decided that he was insane, and he was com- 
 mitted to an asylum, in which he shortly after 
 died.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A SERMON AT PARTING 
 
 A) now this story must go back to 
 that period when George had been 
 taken away in the gipsy caravan; 
 when his body was weak, and his 
 his young heart racked with overwhelming 
 sorrow for her he thought dead. 
 
 He had determined to leave the land of his 
 birth, and go to a foreign clime the moment he 
 was strong enough to undertake the journey; 
 and this determination was hastened by an inci- 
 dent which happened shortly afterwards. 
 
 Reaching the outskirts of Liskeard, he 
 secretly left the gipsy encampment, and 
 strolled into the town; there he was attracted 
 by a motley crowd of men, women, and chil- 
 dren, who had assembled outside the old parish 
 church; many of them were in tears, and for- 
 getting his own sorrow for the moment in his 
 sympathy for others, he questioned one of the 
 group, who informed him that a body of 
 
 151
 
 152 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 miners were about to leave in search of gold in 
 Mexico, and that the old rector was going to 
 address them from the pulpit. 
 
 As soon as the church doors were opened, 
 George entered with the rest. 
 
 The miners, numbering some thirty souls, 
 who were about to leave their' native land, sat 
 together in the pews facing the pulpit, while 
 their wives and others who were interested in 
 the proceedings scattered themselves in the 
 adjoining seats. 
 
 It being a secular day, the old rector came 
 unattended either by curate or the formality 
 of the clerk, whose Sunday duties chiefly in- 
 volved the repeating of " Amen," after each 
 prayer. 
 
 The prayers, being orthodox, were rigidly 
 fixed for certain days and special occasions; 
 and those entrusted with the compilation of 
 these prayers in the long ago seeming to have 
 forgotten those who, unable to obtain a liveli- 
 hood on the earth's surface, were digging out 
 an existence deep down in its bowels, there was 
 no departing from the forms already laid 
 down, so that any reference to the miners 
 would ha.ve to be made in the nature of an 
 address.
 
 A SERMON AT PARTING 153 
 
 Having ended these preliminaries, the old 
 rector ascended the pulpit and for a few min- 
 utes gazed sadly around upon the troubled 
 faces before him, for most of them bore the 
 outlines of toil and hardship. 
 
 Then he addressed them saying : " Men and 
 brethren, the words that I shall utter require no 
 Scripture text for reference, although there 
 are many that are applicable. I choose rather 
 to speak to you from the impulses of the heart, 
 as a father would to his children. 
 
 "For sixty years I have preached to con- 
 gregations in this church. 
 
 " Many of those whom I preached to in my 
 advent to this living are sleeping in the church- 
 yard yonder; many of you who have reached 
 man's estate and are the fathers of families 
 were brought to me in your mother's arms to 
 be baptised at the font. Your children have 
 also received the baptismal blessing at my 
 hands, so that aside from my religious duties 
 in pointing out the path of rectitude, I have 
 felt a responsibility for your worldly wel- 
 fare. 
 
 ' The stupendous question concerning the 
 worldly conditions of man I am afraid will 
 never be satisfactorily solved; the two extremes
 
 154 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 between the very rich and the very poor admit 
 of so many diversities of the different stages 
 between, that it is difficult to decide which 
 stage is the most conducive to happiness. 
 
 ;< There are so many things constantly 
 occurring in our lives at variance with our ideas 
 of happiness, it is safe to say that no person 
 is so blessed that he knoweth not sorrow, or 
 is so tortured that the sunshine does not occa- 
 sionally shed its brightness upon his path. 
 
 " A moderate competence, which can be 
 maintained through life, would appear to be 
 the happy medium which fears not famine nor 
 gives room for wanton display. 
 
 " There are many ill conditions, however, 
 which preponderate over the good, so that it 
 is difficult to satisfy the mind at all times that 
 the provisions of Providence are all-wise. 
 
 " We are more or less creatures of natural 
 circumstance; the Esquimau is condemned to 
 a life of eternal winter, whilst the Hottentot 
 swelters under the heat of the tropics; others 
 there are who enjoy a happy medium, which 
 appears to be by far the most gratifying. 
 
 "So, too, in the walks of life ; some men have 
 attained lofty positions commanding great 
 wealth, others are condemned to toil for their
 
 A SERMON AT PARTING 155 
 
 daily bread; both conditions are attended with 
 more or less inconvenience and unhappiness; 
 the happy medium is obviously the best. 
 
 " Yet with all these plausible remarks we 
 cannot dispose of the fact that there will always 
 be lofty positions for men to aspire unto and 
 worry over, and likewise humble toil for those 
 who are compelled by environment and force 
 of circumstance to follow it; these two ex- 
 tremes will be ever present, but the happy 
 medium is what you must aim at. 
 
 " It has been said by one in higher authority 
 than myself that no man's worldly condition is 
 permanent. That is undoubtedly true if we 
 accept the details, but if our worldly condition 
 means our financial condition, and I have no 
 doubt the remark was intended for such, as an 
 old man, who has witnessed the daily struggles 
 of your fathers and those who have come after 
 them, I should say that their worldly condition, 
 practically speaking, was about as permanent 
 as it well could be. 
 
 " I have admired your patience under severe 
 provocation to rebel; I have seen dire oppres- 
 sion cease through your determination to out- 
 live it, and it is only fairness to the manhood 
 you displayed in many cases of destitution, for
 
 156 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 me to state it was in the power of those for 
 whose aggrandisement you risked your lives 
 and lost the sunshine, to have brought more 
 happiness into your homes. I make this remark 
 to show you that my sympathy has penetrated 
 below the surface, but it is not said with the 
 intention of disaffecting you, or to make those 
 who remain- dissatisfied with their lot ; my duty 
 is to encourage you, and to lead you into the 
 path which will tend to brighten your lives, for 
 whether rich or poor, there is a day coming to 
 all of us when we must lay down the pick and 
 shovel forever. Let not the closing scenes of 
 life, and the glinting of the dawn of our eter- 
 nal home be marred by unhappy reflections 
 upon opportunities for noble actions left 
 undone. 
 
 " The desire to improve one's worldly con- 
 dition, particularly when it relieves us from 
 pecuniary hardships, is a sacred duty, and one 
 to be highly commended, but it calls for extra 
 wisdom in regulating how far that desire shall 
 extend to comprehend what our worldly hap- 
 piness requires. 
 
 " Solomon said, ' Contentment is great 
 riches.' I am more than ever satisfied that it 
 is the wisest remark ever made to guide frail
 
 A SERMON AT PARTING 157 
 
 humanity. It is too much to expect, however, 
 that man can be contented on the bare necessa- 
 ries of life, but it is well to limit our de- 
 sires within a sphere that will bring content- 
 ment. 
 
 " And now, my brethren, I have done moral- 
 ising with you, and will make a few remarks 
 on what more directly concerns your every-day 
 life. 
 
 " Several of you who have decided to try 
 your fortunes in a foreign soil will leave wives 
 and families at home. kTo you I will say that 
 your first duty is to them. New scenes and new 
 faces will have an attraction for you, but do 
 not forget the anxious faces you have left at 
 home. Remember her whom, when a young 
 girl, you courted and loved and took to your 
 bosom; remember her who has clung to you 
 through every adversity; remember the little 
 ones who have learned to love you unmindful 
 of the storm without, or the hunger within; 
 they will miss you; remember that they too 
 some day will learn to love other hearts, and 
 that the lesson which you teach them now will 
 have a lasting effect; remember that when the 
 sun is shining for you in foreign lands there 
 may be a tempest at home; remember that
 
 158 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 when you are having a feast abroad, your loved 
 ones may be pinched with hunger, and with 
 many of the ills, of life fluttering about their 
 path, yet piercing the gloom with longing eyes 
 to learn how he fares who left them. 
 
 ' To the unmarried men I would say, you 
 all have sweethearts at home. Remember, that 
 although they may appear rough without, they 
 have tender hearts within, those hearts are in 
 your keeping; they too, will be waiting and 
 longing to hear from you, and w r hen other lips 
 and other hearts their tales of love shall tell in 
 words of subtler meaning, don't forget that 
 still waters run deepest, and the young girl 
 who has entrusted her heart to your keeping 
 is too far away to chide you, but though silent, 
 has a deeper love for you. 
 
 " Lastly, to married and single, let me warn 
 you that the companionship of the glass is to 
 the detriment of your loved ones, it is mis- 
 leading, it is full of deceit and will ensnare 
 you. 
 
 " I would like to hear of the golden days of 
 your prosperity, and to witness your return to 
 your loved ones, bringing sufficient compe- 
 tence for contentment; I would like to see the 
 smiles with which your loved ones w T ill welcome
 
 A SERMON AT PARTING 159 
 
 your return, much more than experience the 
 regret which their tears of sorrow cause me 
 at your departure. But I have lived more 
 than the allotted time of man ; I cannot hope to 
 hear of your prosperity; I cannot hope to live 
 to watch over those who may need a guiding 
 hand like mine, for I have passed the transi- 
 tion stage which allows a man to look back 
 fondly on the golden days of youth, and I 
 have now but to await the call which will sum- 
 mon me to that portal, to receive my welcome 
 to the realms of everlasting day. 
 
 " Men, do not forget an old man's words, 
 your old rector's words ; they will prove golden 
 to you in the darkest midnight hour, they will 
 bring you back to your loved ones, with hearts 
 unscathed. 
 
 " And now a word to your wives and sweet- 
 hearts. I admonish you to be faithful to your 
 husbands and lovers ; depart not from the path 
 of virtue ; so will your hearts be ready to greet 
 them openly without fear and trembling upon 
 their return." 
 
 Then lifting his hands to bless them, he said : 
 " May He, who knows the sparrow's fall and 
 hears the hungry raven's call, look down from 
 His holy seat and hear your prayers, and so
 
 160 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 guide and govern your lives in the purity of 
 His love, that when your earthly career is 
 ended, I may meet you at Heaven's gate, and 
 introduce you to that bliss which knows no 
 parting, nor sorrow, nor strife." 
 
 The old rector then descended the pulpit, and 
 stood underneath the great arch at the main 
 entrance of the church, and as the men 
 came near, he addressed them saying: " It w r as 
 through this arch ye were brought to me when 
 little babes to be baptised, it was through this 
 arch your loved ones were carried to receive the 
 last solemn rites of burial, but ye are passing 
 out of it to go to foreign climes." 
 
 Then he took each in turn by the hand, say- 
 ing: " Good-bye, James; God bless you, Wil- 
 liam ; have a care of your cups, John, good-bye ; 
 Thomas, don't forget your bonnie Jane, good- 
 bye, my lad;" and so on. For each he had a 
 kindly word to suit his particular case, but ever 
 through the trying ordeal, the tears trickled 
 down his wrinkled cheeks. 
 
 "Good-bye! I lose you, my children; 
 good-bye ! " 
 
 At last came George Croyden with saddened 
 face and extended hand. "And you, sir! you 
 are a stranger? "
 
 161 
 
 "Bless me too, father, for I need it very 
 much ; I am going with them." 
 
 " God bless you, my son." 
 
 And so the old rector bid good-bye to those 
 hard-struggling men whom he loved ; bid good- 
 bye to those whom he never saw again on earth.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION ABROAD 
 
 SAD as the parting was between the old 
 rector and the miners, still more sor- 
 rowful were the farewell scenes be- 
 tween husband, wife, and children, and 
 sweetheart and lover. 
 
 All doubt and misgiving were cleared up in 
 affection's warm embrace, and resolutions were 
 formed which, if fulfilled, would make the 
 angels rejoice; the men were going far away, 
 it might be for years, and it might be forever. 
 
 The husbands and lovers started on their 
 long journey, and that night and for many 
 years afterwards, the fond wives dreamed of 
 stormy seas, of black hulls floating against the 
 docks with nobody on board, of strange craft, 
 always getting ready to sail from foreign 
 shores, but never weighing anchor. 
 
 Within two days the miners had shipped 
 from Plymouth, and after a few weeks, arrived 
 at the scene of their future labours, in Mexico. 
 
 162
 
 AN INTRODUCTION ABROAD 163 
 
 George Croyden remained with the miners, 
 and was looked upon by them as one removed 
 from their ilk by superior education and tal- 
 ents, but they tolerated his presence with the 
 same courtesy they would have shown at home. 
 He continued in the same pensive mood that he 
 left with, and after a few years, having accu- 
 mulated considerable wealth, he bid his com- 
 panions farewell, and without any particular 
 object in view, journeyed to Buenos Ayres. 
 
 At Buenos Ayres he located in the delight- 
 ful suburbs and gave himself up to a life of 
 ease, but he still bore that saddened counte- 
 nance which had never left him since that fatal 
 night. 
 
 How long he would have remained in 
 Buenos Ayres but for a somewhat trivial occur- 
 rence, is a conjecture. There are always little 
 things creeping into our lives to change our 
 plans. 
 
 George Croyden took delight in wandering 
 about a particular neighbourhood, which com- 
 prised one of the most beautiful estates in 
 Buenos Ayres ; whether the fates led him to do 
 so the reader must judge, but certain it was, 
 this spot was destined to change the whole 
 course of his life.
 
 164 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 The owner of this beautiful property was 
 no less a personage than Colonel Reginald 
 Glanville, who, after making himself conspicu- 
 ous for bravery in a war between Chile and 
 Peru, visited Buenos Ayres, and married into 
 the possession of a most estimable lady and 
 her estate. An only daughter blessed this 
 marriage. 
 
 It will never be known whether George 
 Croyden ever had a glimpse of the beautiful 
 daughter before the eventful day which 
 brought about an introduction, but if so, he 
 was a silent admirer. 
 
 On this particular day, George was on 
 horseback, cantering along the highway bor- 
 dering the estate, when he espied two ladies 
 and a gentleman at some distance, making 
 hasty steps toward him, whilst in a pasture 
 fenced off from the road a large bull was 
 trying to break through. Realising their 
 danger, George put spurs to his horse and in 
 a few seconds was among them, but too late. 
 The animal, growing more impatient, tried to 
 jump the fence, and the weight of its huge 
 body broke it down; tossing its head it pawed 
 the earth and bellowed with rage, then lowering 
 its horns, it made a dash towards the frightened
 
 AN INTRODUCTION ABROAD 165 
 
 group. The ladies screamed and huddled 
 together, while the gentleman stood guard with 
 a light cane. 
 
 Quick as the lightning flash George spurred 
 his horse in front of them, and shouted : " Help 
 the ladies over the fence, Sirrah! " at the same 
 time turning his horse so as to face the bull ; he 
 received the full charge, the impact forcing 
 his horse to its haunches. 
 
 George slid out of the saddle and, springing 
 to the younger woman, who had just secured 
 the safety of the elder lady, he took her in his 
 strong arms, and lifted her bodily over the 
 fence, then turning to the gentleman, he ejacu- 
 lated, "Save yourself!" 
 
 "No! no!" said the gentleman, "now the 
 ladies are safe, this is too good an opportunity, 
 it is our turn to charge the bull ! " Whilst he 
 talked he bombarded the animal with stones, 
 with which the road abounded, and George fol- 
 lowing his example, the bull fled as precipi- 
 tately as it came. 
 
 Wiping the dust off his right hand, the 
 gentleman extended it to George, saying: 
 ' You have done us a signal service, sir, pos- 
 sibly saved one or more of us from serious, if 
 not fatal injury. I am Colonel Glanville, and
 
 166 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 I live on this estate with my wife and 
 daughter." 
 
 After the bull had retired the ladies ap- 
 proached the fence; so that, as Colonel Glan- 
 ville mentioned his wife and daughter, he 
 bowed, and waved his hand gracefully towards 
 them. 
 
 George bowed in return to a gracious cour- 
 tesy from the ladies. 
 
 The elder lady said, " We are under lasting 
 obligations to you, sir!" 
 
 George replied, " I am deeply thankful 
 that what portended to be a serious affair 
 has led instead to this pleasant introduction; 
 my name is George Croyden, and I am a Cor- 
 nishman." 
 
 ' You will come right along with us to the 
 house, Mr. Croyden," said Colonel Glanville. 
 " I will send a groom to pick up your horse ; 
 it is quietly browsing after its unfriendly 
 introduction, no doubt." 
 
 George offered his arm to the younger lady, 
 and she timidly placed the tips of her fingers 
 thereon, because such a proceeding was un- 
 known to her. 
 
 'Yes! yes! that is English enough and 
 pretty enough, Mr. Croyden ! " and addressing
 
 AN INTRODUCTION ABROAD 167 
 
 his wife, Colonel Glanville said, " Come, my 
 dear! this English fashion of arming it along 
 through life looks quite sociable," and he 
 placed his wife's arm in his. 
 
 As they entered the estate at the main en- 
 trance and proceeded along the path which led 
 through an avenue of fine old trees, the colonel 
 elicited from George that he had been seeking 
 solace abroad as a relief from sorrow, but that 
 his pilgrimage hadn't cured it, and that he 
 intended returning to his native land after a 
 few months' sojourn in Buenos Ayres. 
 
 "You have no ties here?" asked Colonel 
 Glanville. 
 
 " None whatever, or elsewhere, for that mat- 
 ter, saving the natural love of home," answered 
 George. 
 
 " Ah ! home ! sweet home ! " mused the colonel. 
 ' Well, Mr. Croyden, if you desire to extend 
 your kindly assistance beyond that of cham- 
 pion, you will make your home with us during 
 your stay ; the mansion is large, and the rooms 
 numerous, too much so ; they look deserted and 
 are deserted, saving for my daughter here, 
 who sometimes finds time to stray into a room 
 that has been shut up for a long time, and sings 
 for the sake of hearing the echoes."
 
 168 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 "Oh! papa!" remonstrated the daughter, 
 " each room receives a share of my attention! " 
 
 " And each room has a different echo, I'll be 
 bound," retorted her father. 
 
 George Croyden knew that such a thing as 
 inviting a comparative stranger to make his 
 stay at any of the homes in Buenos Ayres 
 was almost without a precedent, and that as a 
 rule the daughters of the household were put 
 under such restraint that they were seldom left 
 out of the espionage of their parents, and that 
 few of them even conversed with a suitor until 
 he was accepted and a day set for the wedding ; 
 therefore, when he reached the mansion, 
 George said, " Colonel Glanville, this pleasant 
 walk has amply repaid me for any little effort 
 I may have made in your behalf. I beg leave 
 to retire to my hostelry." 
 
 " Mr. Croyden," replied Colonel Glanville, 
 " you need make no excuses or apologies here ; 
 we are not natives, and although my wife 
 has more or less Spanish blood in her veins, she 
 fell in love with me simply because I left off 
 masquerading. I was never guilty of keeping 
 her awake during our courtship by playing a 
 guitar underneath her window ; I went straight 
 to her heart ; I came ! I saw ! I conquered ! "
 
 'AN INTRODUCTION ABROAD 169 
 
 " Now, Reginald," laughingly interposed 
 the colonel's wife, "it may not interest Mr. 
 Croyden to know whether you made yourself 
 ridiculous or not." 
 
 ' What I am coming at, my dear, is this : 
 that we want Mr. Croyden to give up mas- 
 querading, and to understand that he is wel- 
 come to the hospitality of our home as long as 
 he desires." 
 
 ' Yes, indeed, Mr. Croyden," answered the 
 lady, " don't decline. We would appreciate 
 your company very much." 
 
 " I will consider your extremely kind offer," 
 George replied. 
 
 " Dinner at six o'clock," said Colonel Glan- 
 ville, " and if you are not here, I won't like it a 
 bit." 
 
 " I will join you at dinner," George replied, 
 and bowed himself away.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE OF MARGARET 
 
 TO an attentive mind it would have 
 been significant that George Croy- 
 den, who had grown somewhat care- 
 less in the matter of dress, took par- 
 ticular pains with his toilet that afternoon, 
 and instead of waiting the near approach 
 of the appointed hour, wended his way back 
 immediately to Colonel Glanville's mansion, 
 and loitered underneath the trees, finally 
 ascending the arched stairway leading to the 
 spacious verandah which fronted the second 
 story of the house. There, seated in a huge 
 rocker, George gazed listlessly on the vista 
 before him. An ample law r n, studded with 
 tropical shrubs, extended to a silver stream 
 which divided it from a park of majestic trees, 
 whilst further in the background the elevated 
 lands were picturesquely dotted with herds of 
 cattle pasturing on the herbage of never- 
 fading green. 
 Was he still thinking of his lost love of eight 
 
 170
 
 MARRIAGE OF MARGARET 171 
 
 long years ago? or had he in so short an ac- 
 quaintance become enamoured of the beautiful 
 face of Margaret Glanville? 
 
 George had been seated thus for nearly an 
 hour when a window facing on the verandah 
 was opened and Margaret appeared. 
 
 As she approached, George arose, and took 
 the hand extended to him. 
 
 " I hope I am not disturbing your reverie, 
 Mr. Croyden," she said with a gladsome voice, 
 " but I am accustomed to obey papa in all 
 things, and he commissioned me to entertain 
 you, and later to escort you to dinner." 
 
 " I could wish for no greater happiness, 
 Miss Glanville," George replied; " but person- 
 ally I am afraid I have lost the art of being 
 agreeable." 
 
 " I have had little occasion to improve that 
 art, Mr. Croyden," Margaret commented, " for 
 our neighbours are very far apart, and their 
 habits are not like ours. I suppose I may be 
 thankful for my liberty, although never having 
 missed it I can't realise how the young ladies 
 feel who are compelled by custom to live se- 
 cluded lives. Evidently they have grown 
 accustomed to it, for several who have visited 
 us, chaperoned by their parents as a matter of
 
 172 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 course, are delightful girls, and very beautiful, 
 too." 
 
 " I do not doubt it," George replied, " but I 
 have had no opportunity to establish it." 
 
 " But in your own country," Margaret sug- 
 gested. 
 
 " There is a variety ; but outside of my rela- 
 tives I knew but one whom I considered beau- 
 tiful and good. Her maiden name was Cath- 
 erine Penistan ; she became my wife, and after 
 seven months of supreme happiness she she 
 died." 
 
 His hesitation in finishing this sentence, and 
 his sad expression, deterred the beautiful girl 
 beside him from expressing her sympathy until 
 George resumed, " She was found drowned, 
 and I have exiled myself from the land of my 
 birth ever .since." 
 
 "How very sad!" Margaret replied, partly 
 rising in the sudden shock it gave ; " my heart 
 beats in sympathy for you." 
 
 ' You are the first and only one who has said 
 as much; but in justice I must add that no 
 opportunity was afforded my relatives to 
 extend their sympathy." 
 
 "Are your parents alive?" Margaret in- 
 quired.
 
 " I know but one whom I consider beautiful and good "
 
 " I know not," George replied. " My 
 father objected to our marriage on the ground 
 that such an alliance was a departure from any 
 precedent among his ancestors." 
 
 "Is your father so prominent, then?" in- 
 quired Margaret. 
 
 " Prominent in name only ; he is, or was, Sir 
 Anthony Croyden, of Croyden Manor." 
 
 " And your wife, sir? " 
 
 ' Was the daughter of the Reverend How- 
 ard Penistan, Rector of East Lope." 
 
 " It is very sad, and grieves me very much," 
 the young lady replied. 
 
 Further conversation was stopped by the ap- 
 pearance of Colonel Glanville, who also came 
 out of the window, and laughingly remarked, 
 " Well, who is the best talker? " 
 
 " Papa, Mr. Croyden has been relating some 
 very sad " and here Margaret hesitated. 
 
 "Yes! I'll be bound he has, and hasn't 
 known you one sunset yet; well, come to 
 dinner!" 
 
 After dinner they all seated themselves on 
 the verandah, and Colonel Glanville enter- 
 tained his visitor by giving accounts of his 
 youthful escapades, innocent enough, and 
 of his courtship, the relation of which seemed
 
 174 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 to fill him with delightful memories, for he 
 laughed unceasingly. 
 
 Colonel Glanville did not wait for George 
 to make up his mind to come to stay, but with 
 a rapidity of action characteristic of him, he 
 sent to the hostelry for his effects, and sum- 
 marily installed him in a suite of rooms over- 
 looking the lawn. 
 
 George did not resent this interference with 
 his rights, but accepted it with a good grace ; in 
 fact, it may be inferred that it suited him to 
 be near the beautiful girl who had so recently 
 entered into his life. 
 
 In order to relate how George and Margaret 
 became deeply attached, and how they acted 
 towards each other, it would be necessary to 
 experience it ; but the days flew into weeks, and 
 the weeks into months, and they were one long 
 day of glorious sunshine and love. The young 
 couple walked around the estate, or in the 
 neighbourhood, and read together and talked 
 together. One evening as they were seated on 
 the verandah enjoying the delightful breezes 
 and listening to the mavis carolling its love 
 song, George took Margaret by the hand and 
 said, " Margaret, do you think you could learn 
 to love me?"
 
 MARRIAGE OF MARGARET 175 
 
 Margaret looked at him earnestly and 
 answered, " If there is room for additional 
 learning, yes ; but I fear I have been too apt a 
 pupil. First you interested me in your lost 
 wife, so that I love her memory ; and you have 
 gradually insinuated yourself into my heart, 
 so that I feel the daily need of your presence." 
 
 " And you, my dear Margaret, have so 
 wrought upon my heart, that the love for my 
 lost wife has become merged into a deeper love 
 for you." He then bent over and kissed her, 
 kissed her for the first time during all those 
 delightful walks and conversations. 
 
 Margaret became startled, and blushed, and 
 exclaimed, " Is it customary for lovers to be so 
 demonstrative? " 
 
 George was taken aback, and showed it by 
 his downcast look and hesitation. " I can 
 answer for nobody but myself," George con- 
 fusedly answered; " I felt I must kiss you." 
 
 " Did Catherine Penistan indulge you in this 
 respect? " asked Margaret. 
 
 " Not until after we were engaged to be 
 married," George replied. 
 
 " Why do you treat me differently? " Mar- 
 garet inquired. 
 
 George bent over her, and kissing her again,
 
 176 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 said, " Let this kiss signify we are engaged, 
 my dear." 
 
 How the days and weeks rolled by more hap- 
 pily still ; how the couple were eventually mar- 
 ried and lived constantly like lovers; how a 
 son was born to them, to add to their happiness ; 
 how they continued to live in the mansion 
 with its numerous rooms, in which echoes were 
 still heard, as in the days before George Croy- 
 den put in an appearance, gives only an epit- 
 ome of their happy lives. 
 
 Ten years of wedded bliss had passed, and 
 might have continued indefinitely; but the 
 fates, who are always at work to even up the 
 balance, interfered. 
 
 Only one event in all those ten joyous years 
 tended to disturb the equanimity of the house- 
 hold. Colonel Glanville, after a long illness, 
 had joined his fathers. There was a period of 
 deep sorrow, but its intensity was materially 
 softened by the Colonel's happy forethought 
 in constantly reminding them that the sorrow- 
 ful parting must come, not only to him, but to 
 all ; that beauty failed, and bright eyes became 
 dim; but that love, true love, was all that 
 humanity might hope to keep alive.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE DISCOVERY 
 
 ONE day Margaret was conversing 
 with George over the probability of 
 his parents being alive, and solicit- 
 ous for her husband's happiness, 
 and thinking that she would have a pleasant 
 surprise in store for him, she wrote the fol- 
 lowing letter : 
 
 "BUENOS AYRES, February 14, 1867. 
 " To the Postmaster at East Looe, Cornwall: 
 
 " SIR. Will you be good enough to inform the writer 
 if Sir Anthony Croyden and Lady Croyden, his wife, 
 are still alive, and very much oblige, 
 
 " Yours respectfully, 
 
 " MARGARET GLANVILLE." 
 
 Margaret used her maiden name so as to 
 avoid suspicion, and the loving wife passed 
 the six weeks or so which would elapse before a 
 reply could be received, in secret exultation over 
 the pleasant surprise she would have for her 
 husband. 
 
 177
 
 178 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 The answer came promptly, as ill news gen- 
 erally seems to do. 
 
 "POST OFFICE, EAST LOOE, CORNWALL, March 2, 1867- 
 " MADAM. Replying to your letter of the 14th ulto. 
 Sir Anthony Croyden is alive and well; as also are 
 his daughter-in-law and granddaughter, the wife and 
 daughter respectively of his son George, who mysteriously 
 disappeared, under circumstances leading to the belief 
 that he was drowned, a few months after his marriage. 
 
 " Lady Croyden died through grief at her son's loss, 
 shortly after his disappearance. 
 
 " I am, Madam, your obedient servant, 
 
 " SAMUEL GUY, P. M." 
 
 When this letter was delivered to Margaret, 
 she went secretly to one of the rooms, unused 
 saving for the echo, and with a heaviness at 
 heart which foreboded evil portent, she began 
 to read. Her hands trembled violently as she 
 finished, and an echo resounded, such as was 
 never before heard in that house; such sounds 
 of grief and lamentation, not piercing, but 
 moaning and sighing, like the zephyrs through 
 the pines; grief had taken hold of the vital 
 chords of the heart, and was tuning them to the 
 breaking point. 
 
 Uplifting her arms in the depth of her 
 agony, she cried, "Oh! my God! what shall I
 
 THE DISCOVERY 179 
 
 do ! what shall I do ! She is alive ! and a daugh- 
 ter also! and I! what am I? Merciful father, 
 help me ! This is truly the pleasant surprise in 
 store for him; but for me, nothing but death 
 awaits!" 
 
 The echo resounded, " Nothing but death 
 awaits." 
 
 The echo's refrain startled her, and she 
 turned her head in the direction of the sound ; 
 then she renewed her agonised cry. 
 
 ;< Why did I write? To ruin my own happi- 
 ness and that of our boy? George would never 
 have known ! " 
 
 The echo repeated, " Never have known." 
 
 And in her great distress, the devil entered 
 and tempted her; "George would never have 
 known; he need not know now; destroy the 
 letter!" 
 
 But there was no response in her heart, or 
 echo from the room, to this great temptation. 
 
 "George must know; he shall know!" she 
 cried; and immediately she applied her 
 thoughts in preparing a way to support the 
 great sorrow which was to be her lot from 
 thenceforth ; but the shock had been too great, 
 and she fell unconscious to the floor.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE REVELATION 
 
 GEORGE had missed her, and the 
 numerous rooms were echoing to 
 his call, " Margaret, my beloved, 
 where art thou? " But the dreamer 
 never heard. He finally came to the room 
 in which she lay, and seeing her prostrate 
 form, and fearing some dreadful mishap, 
 he rushed to her and raising her in his 
 arms, exclaimed, "My darling! what is the 
 matter?" 
 
 The impulse awakened Margaret to the real- 
 isation of her awful position, and she ex- 
 claimed, " George! let me die! I am ruined! I 
 am lost!" 
 
 "Tell me, my love! what has happened?" 
 No answer forthcoming, George pressed her 
 fondly to his bosom and kissed her. 
 
 Seeing the letter on the floor, Margaret 
 stooped and picked it up, and as she tottered 
 
 180
 
 THE REVELATION 181 
 
 towards a chair, she placed the missive in her 
 bosom. 
 
 George followed the movement with a star- 
 tled look. The thought momentarily swept 
 through his brain, " Had anybody conspired to 
 ruin his happiness?" No, no! He instantly 
 banished the unholy thought; no one could 
 come between him and his great devotion to 
 her. 
 
 At last Margaret fortified herself for the 
 unhappy duty which lay before her, and as she 
 studied George's countenance, she introduced 
 the subject by saying, " I have some news to 
 relate, George, that will awaken happy remem- 
 brances in your heart, but which has already 
 blighted my happiness." 
 
 "Oh! stop, my dear!" George exclaimed; 
 " nothing shall ever bring me happiness that 
 will lessen yours." 
 
 ' You know not the import, George ; sit 
 down and let me talk to you. 
 
 ' The account you gave me of your battle 
 with the stranger, and of your finding yourself 
 with the gipsies after your recovery, was 
 graphic enough, but it never occurred to me 
 until this moment that you are unable to sub- 
 stantiate the truth concerning Catherine's
 
 182 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 death, because you continued with the gipsies 
 until just before you left England. I know 
 the matter is painful to you to revert to, but for 
 my sake, kindly give your version of the case 
 over again." 
 
 George instantly surmised that something 
 dreadful was about to be revealed to him, for 
 he looked at Margaret intently, and she gazed 
 upon him in return, with a sad countenance. 
 
 " My dear Margaret, I have related to you, 
 truthfully, every particle of my history from 
 the time I was a boy ; and not one thing, good 
 nor trifling, have I omitted." 
 
 " I believe you, George," said the unhappy 
 woman, " but tell me how you learnt that Cath- 
 erine was dead." 
 
 George realised the truth now, and with his 
 voice choking with fear, he answered, " The 
 gipsy woman informed me, when I was help- 
 less, and afterwards led me to a newly-made 
 grave, stating it was Catherine's, and I wept 
 over it." 
 
 "I am sure you did, George." Then pro- 
 ducing the fatal letter from her bosom, she 
 placed it in his hands, saying, " .The gipsy lied 
 to you." 
 
 George's hands trembled so violently as he
 
 THE REVELATION 183 
 
 read, that he had to place the letter on his knees ; 
 and as he finished reading, and realised its 
 awful import, he placed both hands to his tem- 
 ples, and with a cry of despair, fell forwards 
 upon the floor.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS 
 
 A;oon as Margaret had revived him, 
 she assisted him to a couch, and, 
 locking the door of the room, and 
 secreting the letter, she sat beside 
 him, holding his hands in hers, and tried to 
 console him, saying, "Never mind, George; 
 it is all a horrible mistake, but it need con- 
 cern nobody but our two selves, and Catherine, 
 of course." 
 
 George sorrowfully replied, " It is too late 
 now, Margaret. I will never leave you." 
 
 " Now, George, stop and consider; if it had 
 been me instead of Catherine, would you for- 
 sake me, knowing that I had remained true to 
 you? And I am sure that you loved Cather- 
 ine's memory very deeply before I became 
 the unlucky mark of your affection." 
 
 " Oh ! don't be cruel, Margaret ! I am inno- 
 cent of any wrong intentions." 
 
 ' Yes, George, and I am afraid our talk on 
 
 184
 
 MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS 185 
 
 the subject will end unhappily for both, unless 
 we duly consider what we have to say. As we 
 know the worst, let us carefully plan how to 
 act, and we will discuss matters to-morrow. 
 Let us throw aside any appearance of despair, 
 so that my mother may not be made unhappy. 
 It is my intention to keep the matter secret 
 from her ; and, sad as it is to say, I am glad that 
 papa is not alive to discover his daughter's un- 
 happy degradation." 
 
 In the evening they assembled on the veran- 
 dah as usual, and the song of the mavis was 
 sung, but the soul of its music had fled. So 
 doleful, indeed, did it sound, that Margaret 
 arose, and whispered in a broken voice, 
 " George, my darling, I bid you good-night. 
 You will sleep in our bridal chamber as usual, 
 and I will take the room adjoining it, so that 
 our secret may not be discovered." 
 
 George mechanically caught her by the arm, 
 as though she were about to fly from him, and 
 said with a choking voice, " Margaret, have 
 you discarded me? Will your heart permit 
 you to take this dreadful step? " 
 
 " Hush! George; my love for you will never 
 change, but your lawful wife is alive, and you 
 must go to her!"
 
 186 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 " I can't do it, Margaret ; I can never leave 
 you. Let us forget it, and live together as we 
 have done, or I shall surely die. Catherine's 
 grief for me must have subsided long ago, and 
 my daughter I never saw. Besides, what will 
 become of our dear boy? " 
 
 " I love you the same as ever, George, and 
 my heart is breaking at the thought of losing 
 you ; but knowing that Catherine is alive, I can- 
 not be guilty of any unlawful love, and of de- 
 ceiving her. You would learn to despise me, 
 and the happy life we have lived together up 
 to this time would no longer be a support to me, 
 as it is in this hour of trial." 
 
 " Oh! my love, have I lost your attachment 
 at a single blow? Don't say so, Margaret. I 
 will never despise you ! " 
 
 " Let us retire, George, and we will both 
 think it over in our separate rooms, and to- 
 morrow decide upon what steps to take. Good- 
 night." 
 
 As soon as Margaret had entered the house, 
 George arose and quietly descended to the 
 lawn, and went in a direction where the trees 
 would hide him from view. 
 
 Margaret, who remained hidden by the win- 
 dow curtains, witnessed his departure, and
 
 MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS 187 
 
 silently followed. She saw him put his arms 
 against a tree and rest his head upon them, and 
 then an outburst of grief awakened the still- 
 ness of the night. 
 
 " Oh! my darling, must I lose you? Must I, 
 after sorrowing long years for her whom I 
 thought dead, and finding you, buried that 
 sorrow in our great love, be exiled again with 
 double sorrow burning at my heart? I cannot 
 leave thee, Margaret; and if thy woman's 
 heart can drive me from thee, mine will 
 surely remain true to thee, for it will cease 
 to beat." 
 
 And at this point most dreadful sobs escaped 
 him, and placing his hands to his heart, he 
 stepped deeper into the gloom, as though to 
 hide his sorrow from the world. 
 
 Margaret watched with pitiful eyes, and her 
 bosom rose and fell like the swelling of the 
 ocean, for she dearly loved him ; but she was of 
 noble lineage, and mustering courage, she ran 
 after his retreating figure, and calling, 
 "George! George!" arrested his steps. Then 
 throwing herself into his arms, she exclaimed, 
 " George, my dear, this is not the way to retain 
 my love ; be noble, be brave." 
 
 ' You ask me to be noble and brave," he re-
 
 188 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 plied, "and at one stroke you have deprived me 
 of all that is worth living for. I have lost 
 heart and faith, and with it courage and nobil- 
 ity have fled." 
 
 " What would you have me do, George? 
 You would not demand that I act in any way 
 unworthy of myself?" 
 
 " If it is unworthy, Margaret, no. Is it 
 not enough to lose your fond embrace? 
 Would it be too much to expect that a cold 
 ' good-night ' might be supplemented with that 
 token which denotes affection, though it must 
 rest there? " 
 
 " Oh! George, my dear, I did not mean it," 
 she said between her tears. " I shall miss you, 
 too. I will kiss you good-night if it will en- 
 courage you to hope until you become recon- 
 ciled to the changed conditions." 
 
 " I shall never leave you," George answered. 
 
 " Come, George, rest to-night and we will 
 decide to-morrow." Then she put her arm in 
 his, and together they walked sorrowfully 
 towards the mansion. 
 
 At the threshold of his room, Margaret put 
 her arms around his neck, and kissed him affec- 
 tionately. George pressed her to his bosom 
 and whispered mournfully, " So suddenly to
 
 MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS 189 
 
 lose you, my love, and forever." And they 
 parted as man and wife that night. 
 
 Neither slept, and they were together the 
 following day much as they had ever been. 
 
 George had nothing to suggest to help 
 straighten out the unhappy entanglement ; but 
 it was finally arranged that they would at once 
 journey to England together, and that George 
 should visit his old home, and have ample time 
 to accustom himself to the changed conditions, 
 and to make himself known to his wife. 
 
 Margaret promised to remain in England 
 to give him moral support until he was happily 
 domiciled. 
 
 Upon arrival in England, a comfortable 
 home was secured for Margaret and her son 
 at Exeter, and kissing them an affectionate 
 but sorrowful good-bye, George left them and 
 proceeded to East Looe; where, in order the 
 more readily to conceal his identity, he as- 
 sumed the role of collector of rags and bones.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 BACK TO EAST LOOE 
 
 AER leaving the court room, George 
 Croyden with rapid strides reached 
 St. Pancras station. There was 
 something about his hurried actions 
 and wandering eyes that attracted the atten- 
 tion of an officer, who carefully scanned his 
 features. 
 
 Trains come and go with scarcely any inter- 
 mission at St. Pancras. One was now ap- 
 proaching the platform on which George stood, 
 and the officer placed his hand firmly on his 
 arm, saying, " Down or up, sir? " 
 
 George gazed upon him and answered 
 " Down." 
 
 " Here's your car, sir," and he locked the 
 carriage door. 
 
 Away the train went rushing through the 
 foggy city, out into the suburbs, across the 
 dusty roads, until its course lay through the 
 green fields; and after a few hours George 
 Croyden arrived at East Looe. 
 
 190
 
 B'ACK TO EAST LOOE 191 
 
 Stepping upon the platform, he walked 
 slowly through the shady lane, as though in 
 deep thought. Proceeding past the old man- 
 sion grounds, he stopped suddenly to look at a 
 raven perched overhead. 
 
 " Croak! croak! " quoth the raven. 
 
 George quickened his steps and went in the 
 direction of the cliff above the Black Rock. 
 
 Reaching the edge of the cliff, he took a pic- 
 ture from his bosom and gazed upon it; then, 
 holding it in both hands, he lifted his face to 
 heaven in the attitude of prayer. 
 
 His guardian angel did not forsake him, 
 even now, for as he stood, a bare- footed urchin 
 had stolen up to him, dragging a basket of 
 bones. 
 
 " Say, Mister, ain't ye Rags and Bones? 
 Ain't ye going to buy of us any more? We 
 uns have missed ye." 
 
 George gazed upon the lad with moistened 
 eyes, and asked, " Where is your father? " 
 
 " Haven't any; father's dead; got drowned." 
 
 George continued to gaze upon the boy for 
 a few minutes, as if weighing in his mind what 
 he had said, then passed him a coin, and return- 
 ing the picture to his bosom, with bowed head 
 he took his way towards the little cottage.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 AFTER EIGHTEEN YEARS 
 
 CATHERINE CROYDEN, accom- 
 panied by her daughter, returned to 
 East Looe on a later train. Arriving 
 at the mansion, and without chang- 
 ing her traveling costume, she requested Caro- 
 line to await her return. 
 
 Catherine walked briskly towards the cliffs, 
 and looked intently among the rocks beneath; 
 and finally, as though afraid of making some 
 horrible discovery, she gazed upon the tumultu- 
 ous sea a moment, and shuddered ; then, retrac- 
 ing her steps, she walked towards the cottage. 
 
 As she entered, she espied her husband 
 seated in a chair, with his head resting on his 
 arms on a table. 
 
 Catherine went up to him, and placing her 
 arms lovingly around his neck said, " My long- 
 lost husband, is your heart lost to me? " 
 
 He put his arms around her and drew her to 
 
 192
 
 AFTER EIGHTEEN YEARS 193 
 
 him, and kissed her, but did not answer; his 
 thoughts were too much troubled to speak to 
 her at that moment. 
 
 Catherine knelt beside him, and nestled her 
 head in his bosom, until the fluttering of his 
 heart made known to her woman's discernment 
 that she had surmised aright; that he was wav- 
 ering betwixt love and duty. 
 
 Still she said not a word, although her heart 
 was ready to break. She felt that her husband 
 was not to blame. Innocent of her existence, 
 his heart had found another. 
 
 After the lapse of several minutes she said 
 quietly, " Will you speak to me, George? " 
 
 Pressing her to his bosom, he said, " My dear 
 Catherine, I am lost. I don't know what to do. 
 I feel that it had been better if I had died that 
 night along with the stranger, rather than have 
 lived to cause sorrow worse than murder." 
 
 ;< Who is she, George? Is she worthy of 
 your love? " Catherine asked. 
 
 Ignoring the question, George continued, 
 " If I had known you were alive, I would have 
 flown to your arms from the uttermost parts 
 of the earth. For eight years I mourned for 
 you, and at last your old love reverted to me 
 from another."
 
 194 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 " But, my dear, is her love so much better 
 than mine had ever been?" pleaded Cath- 
 erine. 
 
 " It took eight long, weary years, and yet 
 my love for you, Catherine, was still fresh in 
 me. How is it possible, then,- for me to aban- 
 don the new love in a moment; how is it possi- 
 ble to reconcile myself to the awful fact that 
 she can be no longer mine? " 
 
 " Come to your own home, my dear," Cath- 
 erine answered. " I promise not to intrude 
 myself upon you. There in the room in which 
 your boyhood's days were spent, you will be 
 able to collect yourself in reverting to the 
 happy days before sorrow came upon you." 
 
 " My dear Catherine, don't press me to go ; 
 have patience with me yet a little while, until 
 all the wrongs connected with my life have 
 been cleared away. I feel guilty of many 
 things, yet they have all come about without 
 any disposition to do harm. The estate is 
 yours, irrevocably, as long as you live, and for 
 our daughter afterwards. Let me not take a 
 step that might embroil you; let me remain 
 here until I have cleared the mystery connected 
 with my absence." 
 
 " Tell me now, George, or I will surely die
 
 'AFTER EIGHTEEN YEARS 195 
 
 does she know of all the circumstances attend- 
 ing our marriage? " 
 
 " Everything, Catherine. I have kept 
 nothing from her; in fact, she made the dis- 
 covery of your being alive." 
 
 " Where is she now? " 
 
 " At Exeter, where her son is receiving tui- 
 tion at one of the colleges. I have not seen her 
 since we arrived, and I have been so persecuted 
 that I have not written to her." 
 
 ' You made mention of her son," Catherine 
 remarked with considerable agitation. 
 
 " Our son," George replied. 
 
 The shock this news conveyed silenced her 
 for a few minutes; then she resumed, "Does 
 your knowledge of her disposition lead you 
 to believe that a communication from me 
 would be graciously received?" asked Cath- 
 erine. 
 
 " Her disposition is much like your own," he 
 answered. 
 
 Catherine still clung affectionately to him, 
 and continued her pleading. " My dear, I will 
 be no obstacle to your love. For eighteen years 
 I have loved your memory as of old ; this love 
 kept afresh should have decided me that you 
 were alive. I often dreamt that you were,
 
 196 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 but I feel that my love, strong as it is, will 
 never take the place of your later love, because 
 your old love for me has become merged in 
 that love. I wish I had died, too." 
 
 At this point the poor woman shed bitter 
 tears, exclaiming, " Must I lose you again for 
 ever? Was my love ever so unnecessary to 
 your existence that you can treat me thus? 
 
 George! George " and her sobs prevented 
 
 her from speaking further. 
 
 The unfortunate man pressed her still closer 
 to his bosom and kissed her, saying, " I will not 
 leave you, Catherine. I seem to love you bet- 
 ter than ever ; and with that love my heart still 
 beats for her who came to me when all the 
 world was cold. But however much my affec- 
 tion is beyond my immediate control, my duty 
 is apparent. I will not fail in it. Have faith 
 in me, Catherine, and I will try to forget her 
 for your sake, but you must help me you 
 must teach me how." At this juncture he re- 
 moved his arm from her, and resumed the 
 position in which she first found him. 
 
 The throbbing of his heart could be dis- 
 tinctly heard, and Catherine again clasped him., 
 saying, " Dear heart, don't grieve ; I will help 
 you ; I will try to be happy in your lives. But
 
 r AFTER EIGHTEEN YEARS 197 
 
 won't you come home, George? You need 
 food and rest." 
 
 " Soon, my dear, soon ; let me alone for a few 
 hours longer so that I can collect my scattered 
 senses. I feel so weighted down that I am 
 lost." 
 
 " Do you want me to leave you alone, 
 George? " 
 
 " I have wronged you both unintentionally," 
 he answered, " and I want to think upon how 
 to act." 
 
 " You will do nothing to cause us more sor- 
 row, George? Promise me that." 
 
 " Surely not, my dear." 
 
 " Say you will not, George." 
 
 " I will not ! You will find me here.'^ 
 
 Catherine kissed him and walked sadly away 
 from the cottage. 
 
 Reaching the mansion, she went to her 
 daughter and said, " Caroline, I have been at 
 the cottage to interview your father, my 
 long-lost husband," and then she burst into 
 tears. 
 
 Caroline clung to her lovingly, and said, 
 " Mother dear, what is the matter? " 
 
 "Oh! my child! I can't tell you without 
 breaking my heart. He thought me dead, and
 
 198 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 his love for me is lost. After all these years 
 of sorrow and affection for his memory, to 
 have him appear the husband of another. Oh, 
 that I had died! My child, you have never 
 had a father." 
 
 " Dear mother, don't worry on my account. 
 You have been everything to me, and I never 
 knew it was essential to my happiness to have 
 a father." 
 
 ' Yes, my dear ; but my happiness has been 
 centred in the one fond memory of him." 
 
 " Don't grieve, mother dear. We will live 
 for each other, as we have done." 
 
 " It is changed, Caroline. I have seen my 
 husband alive, and he belongs to me." 
 
 ;< Won't he come to you?" 
 
 ' Yes, oh yes, he will come ; but his love I 
 want. His heart is not his to give." 
 
 Caroline could say nothing in reply. She 
 was too young and inexperienced in affairs of 
 the heart to know what deep affection meant; 
 so she clasped her hands and looked at the 
 floor. Finally an idea struck her, and she said, 
 " Mother, let me go to him ; it is right that I 
 should become known to him." 
 
 Catherine looked at her beautiful daughter, 
 with all her freshness of youth and hope, and
 
 AFTER EIGHTEEN YEARS 199 
 
 wondered why the thought had not intruded 
 itself before ; so she answered, " Go to him, 
 my dear, and take a basket of lunch along with 
 you, because he has evidently fasted for a long 
 time."
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER 
 
 TAKING the basket of lunch, Caro- 
 line kissed her mother and proceeded 
 on her way to the cottage with a pal- 
 pitating heart. 
 
 From childhood up, the only persons she had 
 known were her mother and grandparents and 
 the servants. 
 
 The mother's great sorrow had made her 
 lead a secluded life for several years, and when 
 her daughter was old enough she shared her 
 solitude. 
 
 No father's smile or mild reproof had ever 
 charmed her heart or depressed her spirit, and 
 it was with considerable misgiving and hesita- 
 tion that she at last halted at the cottage door. 
 Caroline had seen her father at the trial, and 
 noticed his saddened countenance ; but her chief 
 effort was in attempting to reconcile him with 
 Rags and Bones, whom she had frequently 
 
 200
 
 "She saw her father kneeling by the bedside with his face 
 in his hands "
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER 201 
 
 i 
 
 seen plying his calling of rags and bones col- 
 lector. 
 
 As she journeyed to the cottage she tried 
 to think upon something suitable to say, but 
 she could not. She never knew a father's love, 
 and her father had never spoken to her as such. 
 
 Caroline remained at the door hesitating, 
 then reflecting upon her mother's sorrow, she 
 opened the door and timidly peeped in. She 
 saw her father kneeling by the bedside with his 
 face in his hands, and just at that moment he 
 was lifting his voice to his Maker, thus : 
 
 " O Thou, who knowest the heart, look down 
 with mercy from Thy Holy Temple upon Thy 
 servant, who is bowed down with anguish too 
 grievous to be borne ; and as Thou in Thy infin- 
 ite wisdom didst guide my feet o'er moor and 
 fen and crag and torrent, so shed Thy light 
 upon my more darksome way, which chosen in 
 garish day pointed not to the impending gloom 
 beyond; that I may enter the path where duty 
 lies, which love's hand beckoning from a fairer 
 shrine blinds from my view. Deal mercifully 
 with her whose love is lost to sight, and grant 
 that we may meet again in endless day, where 
 patient hope is crowned with everlasting love." 
 
 Caroline's entrance was not heard by the
 
 202 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 praying man, so she stood spellbound, watch- 
 ing and listening to her father's words, and 
 when he concluded, and arose and discovered 
 her, she almost dropped her basket. Finally 
 she stammered, " I am Caroline, sir." 
 
 Her father caught her in his arms, and kiss- 
 ing her affectionately, said, " My dear daugh- 
 ter, my long-neglected darling, can you forgive 
 your unfortunate father? " 
 
 Caroline answered, " I am ignorant, sir, of 
 any harm you may have done me." 
 
 " Don't you know, my darling, what I have 
 done? " 
 
 " I know that my mother is very unhappy, 
 and that it has all come about since my grand- 
 father's death; before that we lived very hap- 
 pily together, although mamma was always 
 very sorrowful." 
 
 " Ah, my dear, it's a sad, sad world, and sor- 
 row comes about without our desire to make 
 it." 
 
 Caroline changed the subject by saying, 
 " Papa, I have brought some luncheon ; will 
 you try to eat something? " 
 
 Her father looked at her and smiled. 
 
 Caroline then spread the repast upon the lit- 
 tle table, and taking her father by the arm led
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER 203 
 
 him gently to it. He attempted to eat, more to 
 gratify her than to appease his appetite, for 
 that seemed to have left him. Caroline noticed 
 this, and stepping up to him and throwing her 
 arms around his neck, said, " My dear papa, I 
 have not missed you because I never knew you ; 
 but mother, who has always cherished your 
 memory, feels your lost love so keenly that she 
 is not the same person to me. Come home with 
 me, dear papa, for her sake. I fear she will 
 grieve and die, and then I shall be left alone." 
 
 " Am I nothing to you, Caroline? " the un- 
 fortunate man asked. 
 
 "Oh! yes! yes!" Caroline hastily qualified; 
 " I shall try to love you, but I suppose it must 
 come gradually. I hardly know what to love 
 you for, yet." 
 
 "Oh, is it so?" the poor man sighed. 
 
 " I will begin to love you at once," Caroline 
 timidly ventured, " if you will come home with 
 me." ' 
 
 "Yes, I will come, my dear. Take me to 
 my room, the room of my boyhood. I will be 
 more at ease there. I am strange; I feel it, 
 and I suppose your poor mother feels it. I 
 don't mean to be so, but I feel like you it 
 must come gradually."
 
 204 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 Caroline took his arm, and father and 
 daughter wended their way to the mansion. 
 Caroline was too old to ask childish questions, 
 and not old enough nor familiar enough to 
 enter upon a conversation touching what was 
 nearest his heart ; so she remained silent, happy 
 in the thought that her mother would be 
 pleased. 
 
 They had gone but a short distance from the 
 cottage when two urchins came towards them 
 tugging a basket of bones. Caroline's face 
 grew crimson, and she was about to shake her 
 head at them; but the boys failed to identify 
 their old friend, and possibly observing the 
 flush on his daughter's cheeks, he passed with- 
 out noticing them. 
 
 George Croyden passed through the grounds 
 with his daughter, and reaching the hall door, 
 they entered, Caroline still clinging to him, and 
 leading him up the stairway, until he reached 
 his room. 
 
 As Caroline started to open the door, he. said, 
 " Not yet, my child. Show me your room." 
 
 Caroline led him to a room, and said, " This 
 room is also my mother's room; we have never 
 been separated from each other since I was a 
 child."
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER 205 
 
 He sighed. 
 
 " And this room was grandpa's," she said, 
 " poor grandpa died in it." 
 
 " I know, my dear," he replied. 
 
 "Mother told you?" 
 
 " I was here." 
 
 Caroline looked at him inquiringly and 
 somewhat timidly. 
 
 * Yes, my dear, I stole into this room, and 
 spoke to my father before he died; he recog- 
 nised me." 
 
 Caroline looked at him in anguish, fearing 
 for his sanity, and then led him to his room. 
 
 As Caroline opened the door, her father 
 stood on the threshold and gazed around the 
 room. Not a thing had been disturbed since 
 the day he left, prior to his marriage with Cath- 
 erine Penistan. His mother had scrupulously 
 kept the key, and after her death Sir Anthony 
 Croyden directed that his lost boy's room be 
 left undisturbed. 
 
 How fond recollections of his boyhood must 
 have flitted across his vision; what glorious 
 days when nothing marred his happiness, and 
 everything was like a dream! 
 
 He entered and sat in a rocking chair, but 
 still gazed about him as though longing to
 
 206 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 dwell upon the memory of his youth; and 
 finally, having surfeited himself therewith, he 
 said, " Caroline, kindly send me a pitcher of 
 water, and a glass." 
 
 Caroline returned with the water, and her 
 father drank deeply. 
 
 Caroline took a seat in the room, simply to 
 show a desire to share her father's company, 
 but the introduction had come so abruptly that 
 she said very little, beyond answering a few 
 simple questions. Her father seemed too 
 much depressed to commune with her. 
 
 As the night drew on, Caroline lit a lamp, 
 and her father, who had grown restless, said: 
 " Caroline, my dear, kiss me good-night." 
 
 Caroline embraced him affectionately, but 
 instantly drew back, saying, " Papa, how warm 
 you are ! " 
 
 " Yes, my dear," he responded, " I am burn- 
 ing up with fever. I need rest, leave me, my 
 darling."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 A PATIENT 
 
 CAROLINE hastened to her mother, 
 and explained her father's condition, 
 and Catherine went immediately to 
 her husband's room, and knocking, 
 entered without waiting for a response. 
 Going up to him and kissing him, she said: 
 " George, my dear, you need rest and care, 
 you have been careless of your health of late; 
 let me send for the doctor so that he can pre- 
 scribe for you." 
 
 " No ! no ! " he replied hastily, " I need only 
 rest. Oh! will I ever rest?" 
 
 Catherine's bosom heaved with anguish; it 
 was not necessary for her to doubt the mean- 
 ing of the last remark. 
 
 " Go to bed, my dear," she answered, " and 
 I will prepare a cooling draught for you." 
 
 When Catherine returned, she found her 
 husband in bed; he had thrown the coverings 
 
 207
 
 208 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 back from his chest, as though the combined 
 weight and heat were oppressive. His hands 
 lay on the coverlid. 
 
 Approaching the bedside, she raised his 
 head, and assisted him to drink. His body 
 burned like coals of fire. 
 
 As Catherine laid his head back on the pil- 
 lows she kissed him again and again. "My 
 poor, dear George," she said, " you are very 
 sick." 
 
 She left the room and summoning the butler, 
 directed him to go for the doctor; she then 
 sought her daughter and they awaited his 
 arrival. 
 
 The little doctor soon appeared, and Cath- 
 erine explained to him her husband's fevered 
 condition, and said, "I want you to remain 
 here to-night, so as to be in readiness, in case 
 your services are needed." 
 
 " Yes! yes!" answered the doctor, "but I 
 must know what to do; you say he is burning 
 with fever, I must know what kind of fever; 
 dear! dear! we have no fever cases in East 
 Looe, nor anything else for that matter. Let 
 me go to him!" 
 
 " Softly, don't disturb him." 
 
 " Yes, softly, I won't disturb him."
 
 A PATIENT 209 
 
 They both went on tip-toe to the door of the 
 sick man's room; it had been left ajar, so that 
 they might hear him if he called. 
 
 George was throwing his arms about and 
 murmuring, yet he appeared to be asleep. 
 
 The doctor stepped to the bedside and felt 
 the sick man's pulse, looking at his watch 
 the while. He shook his head at the result; 
 then he slipped a fever gauge under the 
 patient's arm-pit, and after the lapse of a few 
 minutes took it out and examined it, then turn- 
 ing to Catherine, he beckoned her from the 
 room. 
 
 " Don't be frightened," he said, " but your 
 husband has an alarming attack of fever. It 
 will take a few days to decide what kind, but 
 you must have an attendant, a nurse, to wait 
 upon him." 
 
 " I will nurse him," Catherine replied. 
 
 "You cannot! you must not!" replied the 
 little doctor. 
 
 "I can! and I will!" answered Catherine 
 emphatically. 
 
 " You imperil your life, and that of your 
 daughter," the doctor continued. 
 
 " My daughter will keep away." 
 
 " At least have a nurse to help you."
 
 210 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 ' That we will discuss later." 
 
 The doctor called for wine glasses, and 
 water, and spoons ; and taking sundry powders 
 from his grip, he proceeded to install a mini- 
 ature apothecary's shop in the hallway outside 
 the bedroom. 
 
 " I will take him in hand the minute he 
 awakens," the little man said. 
 
 He had not long to wait, for the patient's 
 moaning became groans, and the tossing of his 
 arms developed into the movement of his whole 
 body; the fever sat heavily upon him, and in 
 his agony he turned from side to side and 
 rolled his head continuously. 
 
 Catherine placed her arms around him, and 
 laying her head on the pillow beside his own, 
 whispered, " George, my dear, the doctor is 
 here." 
 
 George laid a hand on her head, and patted 
 it, exclaiming in his agony, " Let me die ! I'm 
 lost to the world! " 
 
 "Don't, my dear, don't worry, I implore 
 you," said Catherine. 
 
 Here the doctor interposed, saying, " It will 
 never do, madam; he must be treated as a sick 
 man or nothing will save him." 
 
 The poor woman released him and stood
 
 r A PATIENT 211 
 
 back, and the doctor administered some of the 
 liquid medicine he had prepared. 
 
 ' You had better prepare for a long siege," 
 the doctor said to Catherine, " He has got it 
 badly, whatever it is." 
 
 Catherine knew what it was ; she knew it was 
 brought on by lack of proper food, worry, and 
 lost affection, and as she reflected upon it all, 
 she cried bitterly. 
 
 Taking a rocking chair in the hall, directly 
 outside the door, so that she could see the 
 patient, her thoughts became wrapped in her 
 unhappy condition. 
 
 As the night advanced the patient became 
 delirious, and he would call out, " Margaret, 
 don't leave me, come back to me," interspersed 
 with calls of " rags and bones." 
 
 Catherine entered the room and taking one 
 of his hands tried to hold it, but the patient 
 was too restless. 
 
 The doctor administered another draught, 
 and the sick man finally fell into a doze.
 
 G 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 MARGARET 
 
 OING to the library, Catherine re- 
 mained in a thoughtful mood for 
 several minutes, then proceeded to 
 indite a letter as follows: 
 
 " CROYDEN MANOR, EAST LOOE, June 14, 1867. 
 " Mrs. George Croyden, Exeter: 
 
 " DEAR MADAM. George is desperately sick with a 
 fever, and in his delirium calls for you. Your presence 
 may save his life, and I pray you to come with all speed. 
 " George's home is open to you, and I will try to make 
 you welcome, for the love that George once bore me. 
 " Sincerely, 
 
 " CATHERINE CROYDEN." 
 
 This letter was franked for special delivery, 
 and late in the day a telegram was received 
 from Exeter, announcing that the recipient 
 was on her way to East Looe. 
 
 A carriage was in waiting at the station, 
 with Caroline to welcome her. As soon as the 
 train arrived Caroline descended from the car- 
 riage and went unto the platform. 
 
 Very few passengers ever made East Looe 
 
 212
 
 MARGARET 213 
 
 a stopping-place, and there was no difficulty in 
 identifying the beautiful woman who, assisted 
 by the conductor, got off the train. Caroline 
 stepped up to her, and said, " I am Caroline 
 Croyden; mamma sent me to welcome you." 
 
 " Oh! my dear," said the lady, kissing Caro- 
 line, " I hope I may take this liberty with you, 
 and I also hope that I shall prove deserving of 
 your mother's very kind condescension. I am 
 so unhappy, and so must you all be." 
 
 They both entered the carriage, and having 
 become seated, the lady continued, "Do you 
 know the circumstances connected with me, my 
 dear? " 
 
 "I know there is something unusual, and 
 that mamma is very unhappy, and papa like- 
 wise. I heard him offer such a sad prayer, 
 that I have been full of wonder ever since," 
 replied Caroline. 
 
 ' Your papa is very tender-hearted, my dear, 
 and I fear this sickness will be severe upon 
 him; but I hope he will be spared for your 
 mother's sake." 
 
 Catherine Croyden was a woman of com- 
 manding presence, and of that type of beauty 
 which carries in the expression the depth of the 
 soul. Her quiet life had assisted in preserv-
 
 214 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 ing her youthful appearance, and her long sor- 
 sow seemed to add a charm to her natural 
 graces, instead of detracting from them. 
 Knowing her own charms, it was perfectly 
 natural she should hope to excel her rival, 
 and it was with a palpitating heart that she 
 awaited the arrival of the carriage. As Mar- 
 garet's stately form entered the hall, Catherine 
 stepped forward, and taking her by both 
 hands, kissed her on the cheek, saying, "My 
 heart is open to you, my dear." 
 
 Margaret was not slow in returning the salu- 
 tation, and replied: " I am sure, my dear, that 
 this propitious welcome will unite our hearts as 
 one. I always loved your memory when we 
 thought you dead; I love you more than ever 
 now I realise how good you are." 
 
 Catherine escorted her to the room prepared 
 for her reception, and saying, " I will return 
 in a few minutes," went to her own room. 
 
 Falling on her knees she buried her face in 
 her hands, muttering between her tears, " There 
 is no hope; she is good as well as beautiful." 
 She remained in this attitude for several min- 
 utes, and then arising, she straightened her 
 dishevelled hair, and hiding the appearance of 
 grief, returned to Margaret's room.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 EARLY PROGNOSTICATIONS 
 
 MARGARET had changed her 
 travelling dress for a simple cot- 
 ton gown. 
 
 Catherine looked at her sweet 
 face, and said : " I don't wonder that George 
 is sick, I think it has been brought about more 
 through the thought of losing you than all his 
 other troubles." 
 
 Margaret, in evident surprise, replied : " You 
 have been weeping, my dear; pray do not do 
 so; tears cannot avail to remedy the past; it 
 is a very unfortunate case for all of us, and 
 although it crushes my heart to lose George 
 after living with him so happily for ten years, 
 it is both his duty and mine to see that your 
 life is made happy after your long forced 
 widowhood. It was all a mistake, and I am 
 sure George was ignorant of your being alive, 
 for he was ever dwelling upon your memory." 
 
 " I always loved his memory too, and 
 
 215
 
 216 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 thought him dead," Catherine replied, " and 
 much as I love him now, I have no intention 
 of making him unhappy. I want him to get 
 well, and if I can only see him and speak to him 
 as I did before we were married, I will be sat- 
 isfied; but I feel he will never be the same 
 to me again." 
 
 " Does he act indifferently towards you? " 
 Margaret inquired. 
 
 " He is so perplexed that he doesn't seem to 
 know what to do," Catherine replied. "He 
 probably realises what his duty is, and yet his 
 heart is not his ; in other words, I know his love 
 is so intense that it can only be bestowed upon 
 one. He loves me in memory his love 
 towards me would be deeper if I were dead." 
 
 "Oh! my dear, don't say so; George would 
 not have it so : he is too noble to wish anybody 
 dead, even if he had to lose all," Margaret 
 replied. 
 
 " I do not mean that he wished me dead, but 
 that with all his great love centred on you, he 
 would in loving you think of the love I had 
 borne him once," said Catherine. 
 
 "Ah, my dear, he thinks so still, he never 
 tired talking about you, but we will see after 
 we have nursed him back to life."
 
 EARLY PROGNOSTICATIONS 217 
 
 The two women then walked to the sick 
 man's room. 
 
 The little doctor having no patient elsewhere 
 had taken up his abode at the mansion and took 
 his meals with the butler. He was now asleep 
 in an easy chair outside the patient's room. 
 
 Catherine and Margaret passed in and gazed 
 on the sick man, who was sleeping peacefully. 
 
 Margaret contented herself with gazing 
 upon his face whilst Catherine took his hand 
 and remarked, " The fever is still heavy upon 
 him. I feel that all we can do for the present 
 is to be near him so, in case he calls, we can go 
 to him. In his first delirium he repeatedly 
 called for you." 
 
 "Did he not call for you also?" asked 
 Margaret. 
 
 " Not at all," Catherine replied. 
 
 " It is customary for fever patients to forget 
 those they love and call upon those who are not 
 so dear to them," remarked Margaret. 
 
 " It is very considerate of you to say so, my 
 dear, but George's case is an exception," re- 
 plied Catherine.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE VAGARIES OF A FEVER PATIENT 
 
 IT would be uninteresting to recount the 
 everyday life at the mansion during the 
 ilhiess of George Croyden. The fever 
 developed into typhoid, and had to run 
 its customary time before a change could be 
 expected. Before the time had elapsed, how- 
 ever, the patient was in such a dangerous 
 condition a specialist was summoned from 
 the metropolis, who, after remaining until the 
 critical period was over, conferred with the 
 local doctor, and afterwards informed the 
 ladies that everything was being done that 
 could be done. 
 
 On several occasions when the patient was 
 delirious he called in loud tones for Margaret, 
 and when she appeared, at Catherine's urgent 
 request, and took his hand, he quieted down. 
 At other times he would gaze quietly on Cath- 
 erine, if she alone were present, but if Mar- 
 garet would appear, he would take her hand 
 
 218
 
 VAGARIES OF A PATIENT 219 
 
 and press it, and draw her face down on the 
 pillow. In consequence of this, Margaret re- 
 frained from visiting the sick room unless sent 
 for, and she spent the long hours in conversing 
 with Caroline, to whom she became greatly 
 attached, and they could be seen daily walking 
 about the lawn, their arms entwined about each 
 other. Sometimes they would go to the cliffs, 
 and then Margaret would become silent in 
 gazing across the ocean, and at such times her 
 thoughts would be carried far, far away, to 
 another home across the seas, where her life 
 had been one long day of uninterrupted 
 happiness. 
 
 Catherine and Margaret were also fre- 
 quently together, although they did not go 
 beyond sight of the mansion, lest they should 
 escape the sick man's call. They acted more 
 like affectionate sisters than women whose 
 relation towards each other would naturally 
 create the greatest antipathy. 
 
 Understanding, as they did, the exact con- 
 ditions which brought about the second mar- 
 riage, they had none but the greatest sympathy 
 for each other ; there was no desire to cause the 
 slightest pain to each other, and their united 
 desire was that George might live, although it
 
 220 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 was not difficult to realise that one of them was 
 to love in secret and alone. 
 
 There was no reference made to this, how- 
 ever; the two women enjoyed each other's 
 society for the goodness which each possessed, 
 and they had evidently resolved nothing 
 should interfere with that happy condition. 
 
 During the sick man's ravings the cries of 
 " Margaret," would be interspersed with " rags 
 and bones," and on one occasion Mar- 
 garet asked Catherine what she supposed it 
 meant. 
 
 "My dear, I would like to spare you the 
 explanation," Catherine answered, "but it is 
 well to illustrate that a sick man's ravings 
 may not be all vagaries. Some months ago 
 East Looe was surprised by the apparition of 
 a man who paraded the streets on certain days 
 calling ' rags and bones,' and who settled down 
 as a resident of the village. He was a sort of 
 a recluse, nobody could get him to converse or 
 even to give his name. He it was who saved 
 me from drowning, he it was who came into 
 court during a trial to test the validity of my 
 marriage, and produced the missing cer- 
 tificate." 
 
 "Oh! say no more, my dear," interrupted
 
 VAGAEIES OF A PATIENT 221 
 
 Margaret, "it was George himself; but why 
 did he assume such a disguise? " 
 
 " It was his great love for you." 
 
 " But can't you see that if he didn't love 
 you, he would not have risked his life to 
 rescue you from drowning," Margaret replied. 
 
 " George would do nothing unmanly," said 
 Catherine. 
 
 After this the two women became wrapped 
 in thought. 
 
 The crisis having been passed, the patient 
 began slowly to recover, and about the sixth 
 week the fever left him as helpless as a babe. 
 His flesh had dwindled away until he was a 
 mere skeleton. There were no ravings now, 
 the sick man was perfectly conscious. It would 
 take careful nursing yet to make him strong 
 again. His long fast had created an appe- 
 tite so ravenous that he once begged for sub- 
 stantial food, but Catherine informed him 
 gently but firmly it was forbidden; he never 
 asked again. 
 
 On one occasion both the women were pres- 
 ent at his bedside, when with an imploring look 
 he asked why they had nursed him back to lif e. 
 
 " So that you can enjoy the sunshine, my 
 dear," Catherine replied.
 
 222 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 "I feel I will never enjoy it again," he 
 answered. 
 
 " I wouldn't feel that way, George," Mar- 
 garet said; " get well and we will both try and 
 make your life happy." 
 
 He looked at her inquiringly, and said: 
 " Can you ever forgive me, Margaret? " 
 
 ' We must learn to forget it, George, and 
 hide our disappointment. It was a deplorable 
 mistake." 
 
 The convalescent buried his head in the pil- 
 lows and moaned. 
 
 After a few days in which the patient gained 
 considerable strength, Margaret asked Cath- 
 erine to take a walk with her, and during the 
 walk she told her that she had decided to return 
 to Exeter, and later to sail to her home in 
 Buenos Ayres. 
 
 "Oh! stay with us, my dear," Catherine re- 
 plied. " I will not be jealous; I have gotten to 
 love you more than I can tell." 
 
 "It can't be, my dear; George is your law- 
 ful husband and he must fulfil his duty 
 towards you, and although I love him, I shall 
 hide it for your sake." 
 
 " Don't go, Margaret," was Catherine's 
 response.
 
 Catherine took his head in her lap, and burst into tears "
 
 ONE day Margaret had been absent 
 with Caroline in visiting the old 
 church and other places of interest 
 in the vicinity; George had missed 
 his daughter, and arising from his chair, he 
 tottered over to Catherine, and kissing her, 
 said, " Has Margaret left us? " 
 
 " No, my dear, and I have begged her to 
 remain with us.'* 
 
 He kissed her again, saying, "You good, 
 kind Catherine, and what was her answer? " 
 
 " I am afraid she will not stay." 
 
 " Beg her to stay a while, Catherine ; I cannot 
 so soon forget her ; I am trying hard. Tell her 
 not to leave me yet," and with trembling limbs 
 the unfortunate man sought to return to his 
 chair, and fell. 
 
 Catherine's heart was already full, and she 
 sprang forward and kneeling beside the pros- 
 trate man, took his head in her lap, and burst 
 into tears. 
 
 223
 
 224 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 At this moment Margaret and Caroline 
 entered the hall. Margaret tried to escape un- 
 seen, but Catherine called upon her to help her 
 to raise him. 
 
 After assisting George to his chair, the two 
 women went into the library, and Catherine 
 explained the cause which led up to George's 
 fall, and said, " Margaret, try to make up your 
 mind to remain here, and whatever befalls, you 
 will find me the same as I have ever been. I 
 only desire that I may see him." 
 
 Margaret promised to remain a few weeks 
 longer, in hopes that George would become 
 reconciled to his wife; but several days after- 
 wards the latter came to her and said, "It is 
 no use for me to deceive myself ; George loves 
 you so desperately that he can never be any- 
 thing to me but the sad-visaged man we see 
 him; take him to your heart; I will go away 
 with my daughter and try to be happy in 
 knowing that I am not an obstacle in your 
 path." 
 
 : 'You do not know me, Catherine!" Mar- 
 garet answered. " Unless George changes his 
 conduct towards you, I will return to my home 
 and forget him." 
 
 " Ah, dearest, you know not what you say;
 
 it is impossible for him, impossible for you. I 
 do not blame George, it is simply beyond 
 human power not to love you." 
 
 Margaret disregarded this remark, and con- 
 tinued: " I find that the strain is too much for 
 you, too much for me ; we must part, and bitter 
 as the pang will be, we must know the worst. 
 To-morrow I shall arrange to confer with 
 George, and end my visit here. It will be best 
 for all concerned," and then the unhappy 
 woman bent over and wept bitterly, and Cath- 
 erine, throwing her arms around her neck, 
 shared her grief. 
 
 Later in the day Margaret was seen at the 
 edge of the cliff looking across the waters. 
 Whether her eyes were really in the direction of 
 her home, which lay so many miles across the 
 ocean; whether she possessed the instinct of 
 the birds, we can never tell, but her thoughts 
 were on that home, where not so long ago- 
 such tender happiness abounded. She would 
 return with her boy to that home, and amid the 
 scenes of her girlhood try to outlive the bitter- 
 ness of the present. 
 
 The following day Margaret spent in watch- 
 ing an opportunity to find George in such a 
 spot that she could converse with him alone.
 
 226 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 She knew the scene would be an unhappy one, 
 and she wished it to be sacred even from Cath- 
 erine's gaze ; but George seemed to be conscious 
 that some evil was impending, something un- 
 happy was about to happen. He may have 
 discovered it in Margaret's eyes, or his own 
 heart may have inspired him; but he carefully 
 avoided everybody that day. Late in the after- 
 noon, however, on entering the hallway and 
 finding Margaret standing there alone, he 
 hurried into the library; Margaret quickly 
 followed, and on entering the room, found 
 George making his egress through the window 
 unto the lawn. 
 
 " Poor fellow," she ejaculated, " I feel that 
 I am hounding him to his death. I must leave 
 without speaking to him." 
 
 That night George retired early, and Mar- 
 garet went to his room, the room he had occu- 
 pied alone ever since he had arrived at the 
 mansion. Knocking and receiving no re- 
 sponse, she called, " George, it is Margaret, 
 may I come in? " Still there was no answer. 
 She opened the door fearfully, and George 
 stood by his bed looking towards the door. 
 
 As Margaret approached him, his eyes w r ere 
 riveted on hers; he seemed to know what her
 
 ONLY A WOMAN'S LOVE 227 
 
 errand was, for he said: " My dear Margaret, 
 if you love me, don't say it; if you don't love 
 me, kill me, for I shall surely die. Why have I 
 escaped the angry waves, and the fever's 
 fiery breath, if it is to die a death more ter- 
 rible?" 
 
 Margaret sat on the bed, and drew George 
 down by her side, then placing her arms around 
 his neck, she said: " George, my dear, listen 
 patiently to me. Have you resolved upon any 
 plans for the future? " 
 
 George, with downcast eyes, shook his head, 
 and answered, " It is impossible." 
 
 " But, my dear, we can't go on for ever thus ; 
 you must remember your first love, it is your 
 sacred duty." 
 
 "I will! I do!" the unfortunate man re- 
 plied. 
 
 ' Your wife is an affectionate woman, and 
 loves you devotedly, and your daughter Caro- 
 line is a sweet, lovely girl." 
 
 " I love them sincerely," George replied. 
 
 ' Think of her, George, left as a young girl, 
 sorrowing for you, and remaining true to your 
 memory all these long years ; consider how Car- 
 oline, poor girl, was brought up without a 
 father's love. Think how your lawful wife
 
 228 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 feels at the knowledge that your affection is 
 wavering." 
 
 "Margaret, I have thought! for months I 
 wandered about without seeing you, trying to 
 follow the path where duty lies, but the heart 
 stays me; I love them, but I cannot let 
 you go. Catherine was my wife only a few 
 months, and it took years to relinquish her 
 memory. We have loved and cherished each 
 other for ten long years, how is it possible for 
 me to do this thing; and you, Margaret, can 
 you so soon forget me? " 
 
 " George, my dear, listen! I shall never for- 
 get you; my heart is breaking whilst I talk to 
 you, but my woman's heart sees the injustice to 
 your wife, too; think how she must suffer; let 
 me but go away a little while, and you will 
 gradually accustom yourself to the new 
 conditions." 
 
 " Never, Margaret; don't leave me; I will do 
 better. I have not fully recovered yet. Stay 
 with us, so that I can see you, and I will do all 
 you wish." 
 
 ' You know nothing you could ask of me, 
 George, would be refused, if it were possible 
 to grant it, but this is so impossible." 
 
 "Oh! my love! don't say so! I can't live
 
 without you ! let me remove to the cottage, and 
 you and Catherine live here together ; any place 
 will do for me, if I only know you are near." 
 
 However much Margaret had steeled her 
 heart, this appeal was too much for her, and she 
 burst into tears, weeping bitterly. 
 
 " Dear heart," she said, " forgive me. I do 
 not want to lose sight of you either," and she 
 promised to remain, if he would only learn to 
 love Catherine more. 
 
 " I will! I will! at once! " the unhappy man 
 promised. 
 
 " Seek her, George, and speak kindly and 
 affectionately to her." 
 
 " I will! I will! " he answered. 
 
 She pressed his hand and started to leave 
 the room ; he looked upon her retreating figure, 
 and called after her in a reproving voice, 
 "Margaret! is that all?" 
 
 ' That's all," she replied, and hesitated, for 
 there was a pleading in the question beyond the 
 meaning of words. 
 
 Then she returned, and pressing his head to 
 her bosom, kissed him passionately, saying, 
 " My heart will never change towards you my 
 dear, take courage." Then she left the room.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 FAREWELL SCENES 
 
 WHATEVER George's ideas 
 were concerning his duties to 
 his wife, and notwithstanding 
 his promises to Margaret that 
 he would fulfil those duties, it was evident that 
 the unfortunate man was unable to carry them 
 out. 
 
 There is no doubt that he had a willingness 
 at heart to be affectionate towards her on 
 whom his first love had been bestowed, but the 
 deeper love that had been engrafted in him for 
 Margaret, through years of uninterrupted 
 happiness, could not be effaced. The new life 
 had so entirely absorbed the old it was impossi- 
 ble for him to abandon it. 
 
 No one could discern this clearer than Cath- 
 erine, no one could realise it better than 
 Margaret. 
 
 It was painful to see how George, after 
 watching Margaret with sorrowful reflections 
 
 230
 
 FAREWELL SCENES 231 
 
 at heart, would attempt to be gracious to Cath- 
 erine. Once, indeed, he kissed her in Marga- 
 ret's presence, but it was executed in such a 
 clumsy manner that the effect on both indi- 
 cated it had been better left undone. 
 
 George and Catherine would walk together, 
 and they would have a common interest in in- 
 specting the flowers, or discussing those mat- 
 ters which occur in everyday life. Catherine 
 felt it was useless to play the part of affec- 
 tion with him, but she endeavoured in many 
 ways to show him that she still loved him. They 
 appeared to feel they were compelled to be 
 close together, yet the one having a secret dis- 
 position to pull himself away. 
 
 In her anxiety to convince Catherine that she 
 desired her uninterrupted happiness, Margaret 
 was anxious to find an excuse for leaving Eng- 
 land ; but it is safe to say that she had no idea 
 that George would ever love his wife devotedly 
 again. 
 
 The weeks passed by, and conditions at the 
 mansion were about the same, when one day 
 Margaret received a letter, stating that her 
 mother was very ill, and that if she desired to 
 see her alive, she must hasten home without 
 delay.
 
 232 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 Margaret showed the letter to Catherine, and 
 informed her that the time had arrived for 
 parting. 
 
 " But for your duty to your mother, I would 
 never consent to your leaving us," Catherine 
 assured her, " but it is the inevitable. Some- 
 thing tells me, however, that I shall never see 
 you again, but if anything should happen to 
 me, Margaret, take George to your heart again 
 at once; don't let him suffer longer on my 
 account. I do not blame him, it is impossible 
 for him to change his love from you to me; 
 his love for me was deep enough once, but a 
 few hours of fateful events were sufficient to 
 take him from me." 
 
 " It was the same in my case, my dear Cath- 
 erine ; I no sooner received word that you were 
 alive than we became separated in body, but 
 not in soul. How is it best to break the news 
 to George? It will never do to leave without 
 bidding him good-bye." 
 
 " It would have been better for you, Mar- 
 garet, if you had never learnt that I was alive, 
 or that George had never returned to me; but 
 I know the goodness of your heart, and that 
 nothing will change the present conditions as 
 long as I live; if I thought otherwise I
 
 FAREWELL SCENES 233 
 
 would beg you to take George along with 
 you." 
 
 " It cannot be, my dear Catherine," Mar- 
 garet replied. " George is your lawful hus- 
 band, and as such, bitter as the pang may be to 
 him, he must endure it just as you have borne 
 your sorrow." 
 
 In order that they might be together as 
 much as possible during the short time that 
 would elapse before they parted, Catherine as- 
 sisted Margaret in packing up such necessary 
 articles as she would require on the voyage. 
 
 Catherine prevailed upon Margaret to have 
 her boy brought to East Looe, and the butler 
 was despatched with a letter to Queen's Col- 
 lege, Exeter, explaining the necessity of his 
 immediate attendance, another missive having 
 been mailed to the faculty giving the butler's 
 credentials. 
 
 When the boy arrived at East Looe, it is 
 doubtful whose greeting was the warmest, for 
 Catherine took him in her arms, and hugged 
 and kissed him till the poor boy perspired, then 
 Caroline came in for her share, although her 
 embrace was more gentle and of shorter 
 duration. 
 
 As soon as the father saw him, he caught
 
 234 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 him in his arms, and in a few minutes they 
 were together underneath the rookery, and 
 George was explaining to his son the habits of 
 those noisy, gregarious birds. Then he took 
 him to the cliffs, and was evidently explaining 
 to his son how he had plunged headlong 
 from it in order to save a lady. Then he 
 took him to the beach and showed him the 
 limpets and mussels adhering to the rocks ; they 
 hunted for periwinkles and hermit crabs, and 
 lured the shrimps from their hiding-places in 
 the shallow pools left by the receding tide; 
 there were lots of interesting things to be 
 found on the beach at East Looe, that a boy 
 at Buenos Ayres would never dream of. Then 
 George took him to the rope-walk, and through 
 the old church, and to the top of the old tower ; 
 it was daylight, and the old clock ticked in its 
 proper place, and the bells were bells and did 
 not look like decapitated Amazons, and the 
 ropes dangled as ordinary ropes should. It is 
 only in the darksome hours of night, when frail 
 womanhood is about, that things seem different 
 from what they really are. 
 
 Then George showed his boy the font in 
 which he was baptised w r hen a child, and then 
 they passed the crypts in the wall containing
 
 FAREWELL SCENES 235 
 
 the old armour; but George knew not how one 
 of these became inhabited by one of the old 
 knights, and came near frightening his young 
 wife to death. Better had her life ended then, 
 perhaps, in the old church, for sorrowing with- 
 out hope is a living death. And lastly they 
 came to the vestry room, and George peeped 
 in. He glanced at the window ; it was unbroken 
 now. He did not enter, but his boy did, and 
 espying the oak chest, pulled out a large book. 
 It was the Register of Marriages. The boy 
 opened it. His eyes glistened as he turned over 
 its pages. Then he said, " What a funny book 
 so old-fashioned. What is it for, papa? " 
 
 George turned pale, and answered, " It is 
 a register of the persons who get married from 
 this parish, my son." 
 
 " And is your name in it, papa? " 
 
 George hesitated for a moment, and with a 
 trembling voice answered, " Not now, my 
 son." 
 
 ' When I am married I shall have my name 
 put in a Register just like this," the boy ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " Come, my son," and George walked out 
 of the old church with downcast eyes, for his 
 heart was troubled.
 
 236 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 Arriving at the mansion, George took his 
 son to his bedroom, and explained to him that 
 it was the room he had assigned to himself 
 when a boy. A long-handled shrimp-net stood 
 in a corner, and the boy, not knowing its use, 
 asked if it was used for catching butterflies. 
 
 George as yet knew nothing of the awful 
 doom awaiting him. 
 
 As the evening advanced, he requested that 
 his son be allowed to sleep with him, and retired 
 to his room. 
 
 Somewhat later Margaret knocked at his 
 door and entered. George arose and looked at 
 her suspiciously, but Margaret requested him 
 to retain his seat. 
 
 For a moment Margaret seemed at a loss 
 how to act. She evidently had intended ex- 
 plaining the nature of her errand, but her 
 heart failed her, and she passed the letter, noti- 
 fying her of her mother's illness, to him. 
 
 George took the letter much as he would a 
 death warrant, and after having perused it, his 
 eyes became riveted upon it. The most dread- 
 ful calamity that could befall frail humanity 
 was about to happen to him. 
 
 As George remained silent, Margaret said,
 
 FAREWELL SCENES 237 
 
 ' Think not, George, that I am anxious to 
 leave you. I had decided never to leave Eng- 
 land until I had seen you both comparatively 
 happy; for I feel that after these awful expe- 
 riences neither of us will be transcendently 
 happy again. But the time has arrived when 
 I must depart. My mother calls for me, and 
 our boy and she are all I have left to com- 
 fort me; and if my mother leaves me for that 
 better land, it will be a lonesome life for me at 
 my old home that home that was once so full 
 of sunshine." And then falling on her knees, 
 and nestling her head against his bosom, she 
 continued, "George, take courage from what 
 I am going to say to you. My love is as 
 deep for you as it has ever been, and ever 
 will be. I shall miss you as much as you will 
 me. We must live in the reflection of those 
 happy days that have passed. Golden days 
 cannot last forever; we must experience some 
 stormy scenes. Time will doubtless heal our 
 wounds, and we can live in the fond reflection 
 of what might have been. At night when you 
 are sad and weary, remember that although I 
 am far away, my heart is ever close to you." 
 
 Then she put her arms around his neck and 
 kissed him, and he pressed her madly to his
 
 238 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 bosom, and his tearful silence betrayed the 
 depth of his grief. 
 
 This was their last meeting before Margaret 
 sailed away. She spent several hours with 
 Catherine after her meeting with George, and 
 at midnight, with her boy, she left them for 
 Buenos Ayres. 
 
 Well it was that the good ship met with no 
 storm to impede its onward course, for when 
 Margaret arrived at her home, without having 
 an opportunity to change her garments, she 
 was ushered into the presence of her mother, 
 who was dying. Sorrow had done its work 
 with her, and she had gradually failed in health 
 since her husband's death. 
 
 Margaret went to her mother's bedside, and 
 bending over and kissing her, said, " Dear 
 mother, I have returned to you." 
 
 " None too soon, my daughter. I am very 
 weak. I was afraid you would be too late. 
 And George, where is he? " 
 
 " He has been very ill, too, mother. For 
 weeks we despaired of his recovery. He 
 wanted to come along with me, but his condi- 
 tion would not admit of it, and I must impart 
 the kiss he gave me for you." 
 
 " You are truthful, my dear? But then,
 
 FAREWELL SCENES 239 
 
 you are too noble to be otherwise." And then 
 the dying woman said, " I feel your presence 
 has encouraged me. Send for your harp, 
 Margaret, and sing to me as you used to do 
 in those happy days before your father died." 
 
 The harp was brought, and to its accompani- 
 ment Margaret sang those songs which her 
 mother loved. At first her voice trembled, for 
 her heart was more sorrowful than it is the fate 
 of most women to bear; but as she proceeded, 
 her melodious voice thrilled through the empty 
 rooms so that the servants congregated in a 
 group to listen, and tears filled their eyes as 
 they realised the additional sorrow awaiting 
 their beautiful young mistress. Her mother 
 seemed to be beating time with her hand at 
 first, then she became still. The music had 
 borne her into the spirit land. 
 
 The poor woman discovering that her mother 
 was dead, threw herself on her knees beside the 
 bed, and cried, " Father and mother and hus- 
 band gone ; there is only one left! " and the echo 
 answered, " Only one left." 
 
 There were many who shed tears at the 
 funeral of Margaret's mother, but they were 
 mostly shed at sight of the noble woman whose 
 bowed form indicated the anguish of her soul.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 DEATH OF CATHERINE 
 
 THE day following Margaret's de- 
 parture was a very quiet one at the 
 mansion. 
 Notwithstanding Catherine's urg- 
 ent wish that George should accompany her 
 to see her safely aboard the vessel, Margaret 
 objected. It might have been that she 
 desired no doubt to arise in Catherine's 
 mind concerning her sincerity, and it might 
 have been that she was afraid that George 
 would at the last moment insist upon following 
 her; instead, therefore, Caroline and the old 
 butler accompanied her. 
 
 Catherine met George in the hall, and going 
 up to him, she took him gently by the arm, 
 saying, ' Will you join me at breakfast, 
 George? " and he suffered himself to be led to 
 the dining-room, but he partook of little food. 
 He had already discovered that the butler was 
 missing, and finding no one at the breakfast 
 table, he divined that Margaret had departed 
 
 240
 
 DEATH OF CATHERINE 241 
 
 on her long journey home. He had some re- 
 gard for his wife, however, even in this hour of 
 grief, for he stepped up to her and kissed her, 
 saying, " Don't worry about my actions, Cath- 
 erine. I shall try to turn my heart towards 
 you, but the time is not yet. I have loved none 
 but you and her, and it is impossible to forget 
 her." 
 
 " I don't want you to forget her, George. 
 It would make me more unhappy to know that 
 you did. Margaret is the most noble and lova- 
 ble woman in the world, and I love her devot- 
 edly myself." 
 
 ' Thank you for saying so," George replied, 
 and he wandered out on the grounds and finally 
 seated himself underneath the rookery, as 
 though desiring to be near something that 
 would change the current of his unhappy 
 thoughts. But he did not remain long. He 
 wandered about from place to place, without 
 any apparent object but to forget himself. 
 
 During the day Catherine also came upon 
 the lawn and walked about conversing with 
 him. She had given up all idea of ever trying 
 to win him back to her; she felt that his love 
 could never be the same, and she preferred to 
 live in the memory of the past.
 
 242 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 On the third day Caroline and the old butler 
 returned. Caroline was very unhappy; she 
 had recently been crying, and she could hardly 
 refrain from doing so again as she entered the 
 mansion. 
 
 The parting on board the vessel was very 
 sad. On finding that his father was not going 
 to accompany them, the boy cried, " I want my 
 papa. I don't want to leave him. Stay with 
 him, mamma," and he kept up this lament until 
 his cries became so heartrending his mother 
 had to be supported by the butler, whose eyes 
 became dim with tears. 
 
 Caroline knelt and enfolded the boy in her 
 arms, saying, " Papa will come to you, my 
 brother, as soon as he is perfectly well. Don't 
 grieve your mamma, dear." The little fellow 
 sobbed bitterly and hid his face in his hands. 
 
 The captain of the boat came forward, and 
 touching his cap, said, " I am sorry to separate 
 you, ladies, but we have already waited beyond 
 our usual time, especially for you." 
 
 " Poor dears," said an old gentleman, " it is 
 too bad that mortals are gifted with the power 
 to feel so sorrowful at parting." 
 
 Then the bell sounded its parting knell, and 
 the vessel sped out into the ocean.
 
 DEATH OF CATHERINE 243 
 
 George met his daughter in the hall, and 
 stepped forward and kissed her. He noticed 
 her saddened face and said interrogatively, 
 ' They have gone, my daughter? " 
 
 * Yes, papa," said Caroline, at the same time 
 bursting into tears, " and I shall miss them so. 
 They cried so bitterly that I shall never be 
 happy again." 
 
 George took out his handkerchief and 
 started for his room, and his sobs could be 
 heard long afterwards. 
 
 It is surprising how much sorrow the heart 
 can bear without breaking, but time seemed in 
 a measure to assuage George's grief over Mar- 
 garet's departure; not that he changed in any 
 way from his confirmed sad demeanour, but he 
 roamed around the old walks he used to fre- 
 quent when a boy, with no other apparent 
 desire but to forget his troubles in the reminis- 
 cences of his boyhood. 
 
 Occasionally Catherine and he would walk 
 together around the lawn, but there was never 
 any display of the lover's affection. 
 
 Catherine had received a letter from Mar- 
 garet stating that her mother had died a few 
 minutes after her arrival. A correspondence 
 was kept up between them of that character
 
 244 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 which is only indulged in by those who discover 
 the depth of each other's souls, or who have a 
 lasting regard for each other. 
 
 Two years had elapsed since Margaret left 
 East Looe, and Catherine had gradually be- 
 come reduced in health, and finally was con- 
 fined to her room. She never complained of 
 George's attitude towards her, but on the con- 
 trary, insisted that he be present as much as 
 possible at her bedside; and it was here that 
 they renewed those happy recollections, broken 
 off too early in their youth. 
 
 It was by her bedside that her beloved 
 daughter, Caroline, was married to him who 
 saved her life, and who loved her from the time 
 new " worlds " were introduced to him. 
 
 At last, after several months, it became 
 evident that the end was approaching, and 
 George arose to call his daughter; but Cath- 
 erine stopped him, saying, " George, after I 
 am dead, go to Margaret, embrace her for me, 
 and tell her I missed her sweet face this side of 
 the sea." Then drawing his head down on the 
 pillow beside her, she continued, " I have often 
 thought what a trivial occurrence will some- 
 times change the current of one's life, and I 
 have wondered what our lives might have been
 
 DEATH OF CATHERINE 245 
 
 had not the fates separated us. It seems so 
 easy to picture how great our happiness would 
 have been, but for some reason we were pre- 
 vented from realising it. Yet through all my 
 sorrow I loved you, George, and your absence 
 made the heart grow fonder." Catherine re- 
 mained in deep reverie for a few minutes, then 
 she resumed, " I want you to think of me as 
 you left me at my childhood's home, what 
 seems to me now so long ago. Promise me 
 that, George." 
 
 " I will, my dear Catherine," he answered, 
 " but I want you to live, so that we can resume 
 that love where the fates separated us. For- 
 give me, Catherine! forgive me, my love! I 
 shall miss you." 
 
 Catherine's face lit up with a heavenly smile. 
 She was happy in the thought of this avowal, 
 although she was aware it was impossible of 
 realisation. 
 
 She lingered along a few hours, perfectly 
 conscious of those about her, and when her last 
 moments approached she kissed her daughter 
 a last farewell, and as she took her husband's 
 hand, she drew him to her and whispered, 
 " Don't forget," and her pure and noble spirit 
 passed away.
 
 246 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 Catherine was buried in the family mauso- 
 leum alongside Lady Croyden, to carry out the 
 latter's dying wish; otherwise it had been her 
 desire to be buried in the little churchyard, 
 alongside her parents. 
 
 George waited around for several months, 
 knowing that if he made any unseemly haste 
 in leaving, without giving due respect to his 
 wife's memory, Margaret would resent it. 
 
 In the meantime, Caroline had taken up the 
 correspondence with Margaret, and had in- 
 formed her of her mother's death. 
 
 One day George received a few lines from 
 Margaret stating: 
 
 " Our boy is very sick. He calls for you. 
 Speed if you would see him." 
 
 That day George spent several hours in the 
 mausoleum, and then notifying his daughter 
 that he was going to Buenos Ayres, he bid her 
 an affectionate good-bye and departed on his 
 journey.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 FILLED TO OVERFLOWING 
 
 MARGARET having buried her 
 mother, was left with her son to 
 occupy the mansion with its many 
 empty rooms, for the servants 
 kept to the first story underneath the verandah, 
 as was the custom in Buenos Ayres. 
 
 For months she was bowed down with a sor- 
 row which knew no healing, and when her boy 
 was absent from her side she would wander 
 through the empty rooms, and the echoes would 
 resound in mournful refrains ; so mournful, in- 
 deed, that the angels might look down from the 
 heights and pity her. 
 
 But even her cup was not yet full, for at last 
 her son was taken grievously ill. The hope 
 which had buoyed her up through all her adver- 
 sity, in having her son to comfort her, was now 
 hanging in the balance ; and she prayed that if 
 her boy could not be spared to her, that her soul 
 too might take its flight. 
 
 The sick boy had constantly called for his 
 
 24T
 
 248 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 father, and one day, after an unusually 
 sick period, the poor boy said, "Mamma, 
 will papa never come? I feel I can't wait 
 much longer." 
 
 " Yes, my dear," the unfortunate woman 
 replied, "he is coming. Live, my boy, to see 
 him;" and then her heart became so heavy she 
 left the sick room, so that her grief would not 
 worry him, and wandered through the great 
 vacant house wringing her hands. 
 
 Blow, ye winds, if ever ye blew good; waft 
 him to the shore to his boy who so fondly hopes. 
 
 Another dread night of watching without 
 hope, and the morning broke. 
 
 ' Will papa come soon, mamma? I am so 
 tired." 
 
 ' Yes, my love, he will be here this morning, 
 
 I feel that " and then the unfortunate 
 
 woman once more left the sick room. Her 
 heart was breaking. She went to a distant 
 room and the pent-up anguish burst from her. 
 
 "George!" she cried, "are you coming!" 
 and then through fear and love and anguish, 
 she screamed, "George! George! he will die!" 
 
 Then a voice which sent a thrill through her 
 echoed through the empty rooms, " Margaret, 
 my darling, where art thou? "
 
 FILLED TO OVERFLOWING 249 
 
 She rushed to him, her eyes bedewed with 
 tears. " Oh ! George ! I fear it is too late ! " and 
 she hastened with him to the dying boy. He 
 was alive, and had heard his father's voice. 
 
 As his father bent over to kiss him, the boy 
 with a last effort put his frail arms round his 
 neck, saying, "Oh! papa, I have missed you. 
 Mamma and I have been so lonely. We will 
 never part again, will we, papa? " 
 
 The father with tears streaming down his 
 cheeks answered, " No, my son, never more. I 
 have missed you also, but the fates willed it. 
 Live, my boy, to let me know who I am, for I 
 know not." 
 
 The boy was silent, and the father, alarmed, 
 gazed upon his countenance. He was so happy 
 in that he had at last seen his father, that it 
 released the tension of the heart, and as he lay, 
 he cast his eyes first upon his mother and then 
 upon his father, and an angelic smile spread 
 over his countenance. " I see her! " he said. 
 
 " Whom do you see, my son? " asked his 
 mother. 
 
 The dying boy answered, " The Lady across 
 the water; she is clothed in white, and she 
 stands in the sunshine beckoning me." Then 
 with a more gladsome smile and an effort to
 
 250 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 raise himself, he' whispered, "I am coming," 
 and the young life which should have known no 
 sorrow, but experienced it nevertheless, drifted 
 away to the land that knows no parting, leav- 
 ing its poor little house of clay for his parents 
 to mourn over. 
 
 And they, poor frantic souls, already over- 
 burdened, took each other by the hand and 
 wandered through the empty rooms, their 
 heart-rending cries echoing, " We will never 
 hear his voice again I "
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 A RESOLUTION 
 
 MARGARET was slow to recover 
 from the shock this additional sor- 
 row occasioned, and rarely left the 
 boundary of the estate. Wherever 
 she was seen, George was with her. They 
 were devoted to each other, but the old love 
 with its glad expression had disappeared, and 
 in its place the sadness of both their lives had 
 taken its place. 
 
 They wandered about as though in deep 
 thought ; indeed, the loss of their boy was ever 
 present with them. They would sit on the ver- 
 andah as in days of yore, and the mavis would 
 sing just as sweetly as ever; but it was a sad 
 song to the lovers. It reminded them of the 
 days when there was no sorrow. 
 
 One evening as they were thus seated, 
 George related to Margaret the death-bed 
 scene of Catherine, and the message he was 
 commissioned to communicate. 
 
 251
 
 252 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 " Catherine was a noble woman," Margaret 
 replied ; " but it has often flashed through my 
 mind that if I had not enquired concerning 
 your parents, Catherine would possibly have 
 been alive to-day, comparatively happy in your 
 memory, and that we likewise might be free 
 from all the sorrow which my solicitude 
 brought about." 
 
 " Never mind, my love," said George. " It 
 was a righteous and a noble act; and although 
 it is impossible to change one's affection when 
 once it has become firmly fixed, it is wise to dis- 
 cover beforehand that there is no obstacle." 
 
 As they were wandering through the house 
 one day, they stopped in the room in which 
 their boy had died, as was their wont to do ; and 
 there they sat down. 
 
 " I wonder if they can see us? " Margaret 
 remarked. 
 
 ' We will never know until we cross the 
 river," George replied. Then, with his eyes 
 fixed upon the harp which had remained in the 
 room, he said, " Margaret, my love, you have 
 not touched the harp since I arrived." 
 
 " I feel I can never play the old tunes or 
 sing those songs again. Perhaps when my 
 spirit is free, and I have joined my loved ones
 
 A RESOLUTION 253 
 
 again, I then may sing the old songs through 
 all eternity." Then seeing that George became 
 more saddened at this speech, she arose, and 
 taking the harp, she ran her fingers over the 
 strings; then she sang Tom Moore's beautiful 
 melody, " The harp that once through Tara's 
 halls," and as she finished, the echoes came so 
 gently, and from such a distance, that they 
 seemed to be wafted from that land where 
 Tara dwelt. 
 
 " Our boy loved so to hear it," Margaret 
 said. 
 
 George kissed her and remarked, " Noticed 
 thou that the echo came from afar? " 
 
 "Ah! if we only knew," the poor woman 
 sighed. 
 
 Again her fingers swept the strings, but to 
 an unknown tune; it was an improvisation 
 from the heart; now low, the strains reverber- 
 ated through the empty rooms as though 
 wafted through the gothic arches of an ancient 
 church; then ascending the scale, the delicate 
 notes filled the soul with enchanting scenes, in 
 which love, and beauty, and music ever dwell; 
 scenes which mortals rarely realise. Finally 
 the music modulated until its echoes were lost. 
 
 Margaret leaned on the harp a moment, and
 
 254 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 said, " George, I feel this is the end of earthly 
 music; my heart throbs so that it cannot endure 
 much longer." Then as she advanced towards 
 him, George clasped her to his bosom and 
 kissed her, and led her to the verandah, saying, 
 " The rooms are oppressive, my dear." 
 
 " Oppressive with sorrowful memories, 
 George, and although those recollections kill 
 me, I cannot leave them." 
 
 "Ah! my dear, if we could fly away and join 
 them, what a relief it would be." 
 
 As the evening advanced, George fell in a 
 deep reverie. Since his arrival at Margaret's 
 home, he had been contented with the happi- 
 ness her presence radiated, and he had not re- 
 newed his suit, nor in any way opposed her 
 inclinations; but he had now become alarmed 
 after her health. 
 
 As he walked up and down the verandah, 
 Margaret approached to kiss him good-night. 
 George took her in his arms and said to her, 
 " My dear Margaret, your old home has no 
 associations left, saving those that lie in the 
 grave. We can honour the memories of our 
 loved ones wherever we may be, although it is 
 a comfort to be near them. 
 
 " I would not prevail upon you to relinquish
 
 A RESOLUTION 255 
 
 your home, did I not discover that your health 
 is visibly failing. Come back with me, my dar- 
 ling. The sea-air and change of scenery will 
 do you good. Besides, you are not a stranger 
 there." 
 
 "Could you leave our boy, George? " 
 
 " We will lay him beside Catherine," George 
 replied. 
 
 Margaret still remained enfolded in his 
 arms, and as she hesitated to make reply, 
 George used the strategy of whispering, " Say 
 ' yes,' my dear, for my sake." 
 
 "Do you intend going at once, George? " 
 
 " As soon as rapid preparations will admit," 
 he replied. ' Your health demands it, Mar- 
 garet." 
 
 " And your exilement from home, and the 
 sorrow it brought about, entitles you to that 
 blessed prospect. My love, I will go there and 
 live with you." 
 
 " O happy day! " and George in his ecstacy 
 kissed her again and again.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 THE WELCOME 
 
 THERE is one event in the annals of 
 East Looe the equal of which was 
 never known in its limited history, 
 and is not likely to occur again in the 
 history of the world. 
 
 One delightful May morning an unusual 
 commotion took place among its inhabitants. 
 
 The old fishermen, arrayed in their best, had 
 congregated in full force on the brow of the 
 cliff, provided with telescopes and fish-horns; 
 and scattered on the slopes of the village the 
 entire inhabitants, men, women, and children, 
 in gala dress, had assembled and were patiently 
 awaiting a signal. 
 
 Presently a stately yacht sailed into the har- 
 bour, and as it came within hailing distance, 
 the fish-horns blared with such enthusiasm in 
 their owners' determination to outdo each other, 
 that old Boreas was for a time at a discount. 
 
 George Croyden had taken this means of 
 
 256
 
 Then the little doctor meekly appeared and shook hands ' '
 
 THE WELCOME 257 
 
 transporting his loved one and her precious 
 treasures to her new home. 
 
 As the yacht touched the dock, Caroline 
 rushed into Margaret's arms, and fairly swal- 
 lowed her up in her warm embrace. 
 
 Next came the rector, who bestowed several 
 kisses on Margaret's cheeks. It was scan- 
 dalous. 
 
 Old Nicholas Stocker, of fishing-moon fame, 
 was standing perilously near, and muttered 
 something about crab-bait; but it is fair to 
 assume that he had no murderous designs on 
 Margaret. 
 
 Then the little doctor meekly appeared and 
 shook hands; and as if this was not welcome 
 enough, the villagers in a body, at a signal 
 from the organist, sang " Home, sweet home;" 
 and although there were some stray voices, and 
 some dissonant ones, and the old fishermen in- 
 sisted upon using their fish-horns now and 
 again, under the inspiration that there was 
 music in them somewhere, it is perhaps well 
 that they did, for Margaret, at the first sound 
 of "home" felt like crying; but the ludicrous 
 interposition of the fish-horns saved her, for 
 she put her handkerchief to her eyes with in- 
 tent to deceive, and hid her face in the lapel
 
 258 THE BARONET RAG-PICKER 
 
 of George's coat and laughed, oh ! such a merry 
 laugh. 
 
 Next came the sound of the merry bells from 
 the old church tower. To be sure, they jan- 
 gled and clanged at first, because the ringers 
 were not accustomed to such sudden emotions. 
 The quaint mottoes on those bells rang out in 
 happy confusion; so much so, indeed, that the 
 old rector who inscribed them in the long ago 
 would never have recognised his work. But 
 they finally got working into rhyme as they 
 were originally designed to do, thus : 
 
 " By music, minds a quiet temper know. 
 Nor swell too high, nor sink too low. 
 Music the fiercest grief can charm, 
 And fate's severest rage disarm. 
 Music can soften pain and ease, 
 And make despair and madness please. 
 Our joys below it can improve, 
 And antedate the bliss above." 
 
 To the music of the bells the villagers, led 
 by the rector, proceeded to the lawn at Croyden 
 mansion, where they spent the day in games 
 and feasting. 
 
 A carriage was waiting for Margaret, but 
 following the example set by George on that 
 fateful day when first they met, she placed her
 
 THE WELCOME 259 
 
 arm in his and walked to the mausoleum, which 
 they found decorated with flowers. 
 
 As they entered Margaret stooped and 
 plucked a violet, and placed it on Catherine's 
 tomb, which she knelt beside in the attitude of 
 prayer. 
 
 The following Sunday the church was filled 
 to overflowing, the villagers being drawn 
 thither in the hope of again seeing the beauti- 
 ful lady whom George had brought to their 
 shores ; and they were not disappointed. 
 
 After the lessons of the day there was 
 another surprise in store, for the rector, hold- 
 ing a slip of paper in his hand, called in a loud 
 voice, " I publish the banns of marriage be- 
 tween George Croyden, of this parish, and 
 Margaret Glanville, late of Buenos Ayres. If 
 any of you know of any just cause or impedi- 
 ment, why these two persons should not be 
 joined together in holy matrimony, ye are to 
 declare it. This is the first time of asking." 
 
 The second and third challenges having been 
 read on the two succeeding Sabbath days, the 
 marriage was immediately solemnised, and ac- 
 companied by another feast to the villagers.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 HOME! SWEET HOME! 
 
 MANY years have elapsed since the 
 occurrences in the preceding 
 chapter. 
 
 The property at Buenos Ayres 
 was placed in the hands of an agent; the land 
 was rented, but it was impossible to find a 
 tenant for the mansion. The agent had 
 written that upon every occasion of his 
 showing the interior to a prospective tenant, 
 the echoes emanating from the various rooms 
 were so plaintive that they fled in terror. 
 Finally the premises had become known as 
 ' The house of many lamentations," and it is 
 very likely it will fall into ruins. 
 
 A boundless love continues to prevail in the 
 atmosphere of Croyden manor. The old quiet 
 sanctity of the place has been enlivened by the 
 merry voices of little children, of whom several 
 bear the name of Croyden. They ramble 
 around the old mansion in such numbers that 
 
 260
 
 nothing is sacred to them. The hall is littered 
 with Noah's arks, and the animals are distrib- 
 uted about in endless confusion, minus heads 
 and legs, representing a miniature battle-field. 
 
 Margaret roams about with her husband 
 over the large estate, and takes daily drives 
 with him in the neighbourhood, enjoying the 
 rural scenes. 
 
 After gratifying her curiosity with the sight 
 of a gipsy encampment, Margaret never could 
 be induced to go near one again, nor, indeed, 
 would she allow them inside the estate. She 
 very properly stated that one unhappy experi- 
 ence emanating from that quarter was enough 
 for many generations of Croydens. 
 
 A beautiful tomb was placed beside Cath- 
 erine's, for the reception of their lost boy, and 
 the mausoleum was a weekly rendezvous. 
 
 George Croyden had the appellation of 
 " Squire " added to his name by the villagers, 
 which Margaret insisted made him a trifle vain. 
 
 Time and the presence of children has "as- 
 sisted in eradicating much of their early sor- 
 row; but George informed Margaret he was 
 unable to dismiss the horror which drove him to 
 the necessity of appearing in the role of " Rags 
 and Bones."
 
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 BEATRICE, THE COLLEGE GIRL HEROINE 
 
 C. M. Clark Publishing Company, Boston
 
 " He has told a strong, honest story and 
 told it well." BROOKLYN EAGLE. 
 
 " A book of uncommon cleverness." 
 
 BOSTON GLOBE. 
 
 HESTER 
 BLAIR 
 
 THE ROMANCE OP A COUNTRY GIRL 
 ... BY ... 
 
 WILLIAM HENRY CARSON 
 
 A BOOK YOU WILL 
 HEAR ABOUT. READ. 
 AND TALK ABOUT 
 
 HESTER BLAIR is a sweet and lovable 
 character though a puzzling one 
 
 Attractively Bound in Red Silk 
 Cloth and Gold, Gilt Top 
 ILLUSTRATED 1.50 
 
 C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING COMPANY. BOSTON
 
 Telling an Hitherto Unrevealed Romance in One of 
 New York's Oldest and Most Exclusive Families 
 
 TITO 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM HENRY CARSON, author "Hester Blair" 
 
 UNANIMOUS PRAISE 'S PRESS 
 
 "A story of strong power, depicting the human emotions." 
 
 CHICAGO JOURNAL, March zj. 
 
 ** There i no more attractive figure in current fiction than that which 
 Mr. Canon has conceived." NKW YORK WORLD, March.i4. 
 
 " Told with delicacy of feeling and thorough knowledge of the Italian 
 temperament." PUBLIC OPINION, April i. 
 
 "The reading public will take it np with increasing and consuming 
 interest will love Tito." CHICAGO RKCOKD-HEKALD, March z8. 
 
 "It contains abundant action, numerous startling scenes and no end 
 of mysteries. There is a fascination about Tito that compels sympathy 
 and interest." BOSTON TRANSCRIPT, April 8. 
 
 ** The author has placed the simple Florence youth far above the 
 characters of recent fiction it is a masterpiece of dramatic fiction." NEW 
 YORK AMERICAN AND JOURNAL, March z8. 
 
 " Mr. Carson has handled his material in a masterly manner and given 
 fiction a strong book." INDIANAPOLIS SENTINEL, April 5. 
 
 Illustrations by C. H. STEPHENS on? A. B. SHUTS 
 Bound In Red Art Crash 
 
 Price, 1.50 
 
 C. M. Clark Publishing Co., Boston
 
 Por $1.50 
 
 IN STAMPS, MONEY ORDER OR 
 EXPRESS ORDER, WE WILL 
 SEND YOU, POSTAGE PREPAID, 
 A SET OF 
 
 9 
 
 7THESE posters 
 are reproduc- 
 tions of original 
 oil sketches done 
 exclusively for us by 
 well-known artists. 
 
 They vary in size 
 from 12 x 18 inches 
 to 18x26 inches, and 
 are most attractively 
 printed in four 
 
 BEAUTIFUL 
 POSTERS 
 
 AND 
 
 VOUR CHOICE 
 
 OF THK FOLLOWING 
 
 POPULAR 
 
 CLOTH BOUND AND ILLUSTRATED fl.SO 
 
 NOVELS. 
 
 MARJIE of the LOWER RANCH, 
 
 By Frances Parker. 
 
 LOVE STORIES fram REAL LIFE, 
 By Mildred Champagne. 
 
 MISS PETTICOATS, 
 
 By Dwight Tilton. 
 
 QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER, 
 
 By Charles Felton Pidgin. 
 
 MY LADY LAUGHTER, 
 By Dwight Tilton. 
 
 ON SATAN'S MOUNT, 
 By Dwight Tilton. 
 
 TITO, 
 
 By William Henry Carson. 
 
 HESTER BLAIR, 
 
 By William Henry Carson 
 
 HOPE HATHAWAY, 
 
 By Frances Parker. 
 
 colors. 
 
 Address G. M. CLARK PUBLISHING COMPANY, BOSTON.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000125193 3