THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 EVE 
 
 B "Novel 
 
 BY THE 
 
 REV. S. BARING GOULD 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 'JOHN HERRING' 'MF.lIALAIl' 'RED SI'IDER' 
 ETC 
 
 2fonbon 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 1 891
 
 TRINTED BY 
 
 SrOTTISWOODR AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUACB 
 
 LONDON
 
 ■ivy 
 
 £13 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. MOEWELL . . 
 
 II. THE LITTLE MOTHER. 
 III. THE WHISH-HUNT . 
 IV. eve's RING 
 V. THE LIMPING HOKSE 
 VI. A BUNDLE OF CLOTHES 
 VII. A NIGHT-WATCH 
 VIII. BAB .... 
 IX. THE rOCKET-BOOIC . 
 
 x. Barbara's petition . 
 xi. granted ! 
 
 XII. CALLED AWAY 
 
 XIII. MR. BABB AT HOME 
 
 XIV. A SIXE QUA NON 
 XV. AT THE QUAY 
 
 XVI. WATT . . . 
 
 XVII. FORGET-ME-NOT ! . 
 XVIII. DISCOVERIES 
 
 xix. Barbara's ring 
 
 XX. PERPLEXITY 
 XXI. THE SCYTHE OF TIME 
 XXII. THE RED STUEAIC 
 XXIII. A BUNCH OF ROSES. 
 XXIV. WHERE THEY WITHERED 
 XXV. LEAH AND RACHEL . 
 XXVI. AN IMP OF DARKNESS. 
 
 PAOH 
 1 
 
 9 
 
 16 
 
 22 
 
 31 
 
 35 
 
 41 
 
 51 
 
 57 
 
 G5 
 
 71 
 
 80 
 
 86 
 
 93 
 
 100 
 
 107 
 
 113 
 
 121 
 
 127 
 
 132 
 
 138 
 
 110 
 
 152 
 
 159 
 
 165 
 
 17:1 
 
 Q ***:*: to 
 
 K* 

 
 (v 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XWll. POOR MARTIN . 
 XXVIII. FATHER AND SON 
 
 xxix. hush-money . . . 
 
 XXX. BETRAYAL . 
 XXXI. CALLED TO ACCOUNT 
 XXMI. WANDERING LIU ITS . 
 XXXIII. THE OWLS 
 XXXIV. THE DOVES 
 XXXV. THE ALARM HEEL . 
 XXXVI. CONFESSIONS 
 
 xxxvii. the rirE of peace 
 
 XXXVIII. TAKEN ! 
 XXXIX. GONE ! . 
 
 XL. ANOTHER SACRIFICE . 
 XI. I. ANOTHER MISTAKE . 
 XLII. ENGAGED . 
 XLIII. IN A MINE 
 XI. IV. TCCKEES . 
 XI.V. DUCK AND GREEN PEAS . 
 
 xi. vi. ' it.eciosa ' 
 XI. v.l. noah's ark . 
 
 XI.V III. IN PART . 
 
 XLIX. THE OLD . 
 
 L. LY Till'. FIRE 
 
 EI. A SllOT .... 
 
 LII. THE WHOLE 
 
 I.III. DY LANTERN-LIGHT . 
 
 LIV. ANOTHER T.OAD . 
 
 LV. WHAT EVERY FOOL EN V, S
 
 EVE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MORWELL. 
 
 Tiie river Taraar can bo ascended by steamers as far as 
 Morwell, one of tlie most picturesque points on tbat most 
 beautiful river. There also, at a place called ' New Quay,' 
 barges discbarge their burdens of coal, bricks, &c, which 
 thence are conveyed by carts throughout the neighbour- 
 hood. A new road, admirable as one of those of Napo- 
 leon's construction in France, gives access to this quay — a 
 road constructed at the outlay of a Duke of Bedford, to 
 whom belongs all the land that was once owned by the 
 Abbey of Tavistock. This skilfully engineered road de- 
 scends by zigzags from the elevated moorland on the 
 Devon side of the Tamar, through dense woods of oak and 
 fir, under crags of weathered rock wreathed with heather. 
 From the summit of the moor this road runs due north, 
 past mine shafts and ' ramps,' or rubble heaps thrown out 
 of the mines, and meets other roads uniting from various 
 points under the volcanic peak of Brent Tor, that rises in 
 solitary dignity out of the vast moor to the height of twelve 
 hundred feet, and is crowned by perhaps the tiniest church 
 in England. 
 
 Seventy or eighty years ago no such roads existed. 
 The vast upland was all heather and gorse, with tracks 
 across it. An old quay bad existed on the river, and tha 
 
 V
 
 2 EVE 
 
 ruins remained of tho buildings about it erected by tlio 
 abbots of Tavistock ; but quay and warehouses had fallen 
 into decay, and no barges came so far up the river. 
 
 The crags on the Devon side of tbe Tamar rise many 
 hundred feel in sheer precipices, broken by gulfs tilled 
 with oak coppice, heather, and dogwo< d. 
 
 In a hollow of the down, half a mile from the oak 
 woods and crags, with an ancient yew and Spanish chi li- 
 mit before it, stood, and stands still, Morwell House, the 
 hunting-lodge of the abbots of Tavistock, built whore a 
 moor- well — a spring of clear water — gushed from ami 
 the golden gorse brakes, and after a short course ran down 
 tli3 steep side of the hill, and danced into the Tamar. 
 
 Seventy or eighty years ago this house was in a better 
 and worse condition than at present : worse, in that it was 
 sorely dilapidated ; better, in that it had not suffered 
 tasteless modern handling to convert it into a farm with 
 labourers' cottages. Even forty years ago the old ban- 
 quetting hall and the abbot's parlour were intact. Now 
 all has been restored out of recognition, except the gate- 
 house that opens into the quadrangle. In the interior of 
 this old hall, on the twenty-fourth of June, just eighty 
 years ago, sat the tenant: a tall, gaunt man with dark 
 hair. He was engaged cleaning his gun, and the atmo- 
 sphere was foul with the odour exhaled by the piece that 
 had been recently discharged, and was now being purifh 'I. 
 The man was intent on his work, but neither tho exertion 
 he used, nor the warmth of a June afternoon, accounted 
 for the drops that headed his brow and dripped from his 
 face. 
 
 Once — suddenly— he placed the muzzle of his gun 
 against his right side under the rib, and with his foot 
 touched the leck. A quiver ran over his face, and his dim 
 eyes were raised to the ceiling. Then there came from 
 near nis feet a feeble sound of a babe giving token with it3 
 lips that it was dreaming of food. The man sighed, and 
 looked down at a cradle that was before him. lie placed 
 the gun between his knees, and remained for a moment
 
 MO R WELL 
 
 gazing at the child's crib, lost in a dream, with the evening 
 sun shining through the large window and illumining his 
 face. It was a long face with light blue eyes, in which 
 lurked anguish mixed with cat-like treachery. The month 
 was tremulous, and betrayed weakness. 
 
 Presently, recovering himself from his abstraction, he 
 laid the gun across the cradle, from right to left, and it 
 rested there as a bar sinister on a shield, black and omin- 
 ous. His head sank in his thin shaking hands, and he 
 bowed over the cradle. His tears or sweat, or tears and 
 sweat combined, dropped as a salt rain upon the sleeping 
 child, that gave so slight token of its presence. 
 
 All at once the door opened, and a man stood in the 
 yellow light, like a mediaeval saint against a golden ground. 
 He stood there a minute looking in, his eyes too dazzled 
 to distinguish what was within, but he called in a hard, 
 sharp tone, l Eve ! where is Eve ? ' 
 
 The man at the cradle started up, showing at the time 
 how tall he was. He stood up as one bewildered, with 
 his hands outspread, and looked blankly at the new 
 comer. 
 
 The latter, whose eyes were becoming accustomed to 
 the obscurity, after a moment's pause repeated his question, 
 1 Eve ! where is Eve ? ' 
 
 The tall man opensd his mouth to speak, but no words 
 came. 
 
 ' Are you Ignatius Jordan ? ' 
 
 ' I am,' he answered with an effort. 
 
 ' And I am Ezekiel Babb. I am come for my daugh- 
 ter.' 
 
 Ignatius Jordan staggered back against the wall, and 
 leaned against it with arms extended and with open 
 palms. The window through which the sun streamed was 
 ancient ; it consisted of two lights with a transom, and the 
 sun sent the shadow of mullion and transom as a black 
 cross against, the further wall. Ignatius stood uncon- 
 sciously spreading his arms against this shadow like a 
 
 B 2
 
 4 EVE 
 
 ghastly Christ on his cross. The stranger noticed the 
 likeness, and said in his harsh tones, ' Ignatius Jordan, 
 thou hast crucified thyself'.' Then again, as he took a 
 scat unasked, ' Eve ! where is Eve ? ' 
 
 The gentleman addressed answered with an effort, 
 • She is no longer here. She is gone.' 
 
 « What ! ' exclaimed Bahh ; ' no longer here ? She was 
 here last week. Where is she now ? ' 
 
 ' She is gone,' said Jordan in a low tone. 
 
 ' Gone ! — her child is here. When will she return ? ' 
 
 1 Return ! ' — with a sigh—' never.' 
 
 ' Cursed he the blood that flows in her veins ! ' shouted 
 the new comer. ' Restless, effervescing, fevered, fantastic ! 
 It is none of it mine, it is all her mother's.' He sprang 
 to his feet and paced the room furiously, with knitted 
 brows and clenched fists. Jordan followed him with his 
 eye. The man was some way past the middle of life. 
 He was strongly and compactly built. He wore a long 
 dark coat and waistcoat, breeches, and blue worsted 
 stockings. His hair was grey ; his protruding eyebrows 
 met over the nose. They were black, and gave a sinister 
 expression to his face. His profile was strongly accentu- 
 atcd, hawklike, greedy, cruel. 
 
 ' I see it all,' he said, partly to himself; ' that cursed 
 foreign blood would not suffer her to find rest even here, 
 where there is prosperity. What is prosperity to her ? 
 What is comfort ? Bah ! all her lust is after tinsel and 
 tawdry.' He raised his arm and clenched fist. ' A life 
 accursed of God ! Of old our forefathers, under the 
 righteous Cromwell, rose up and swept all profanity out ol 
 the land, the jesters, and the carol singers, and theatrical 
 performers, and pipers and tumblers. But they retaiueu 
 again to torment the elect. What saith the Scripture ? 
 Make no marriage with the heathen, else shall ye be un- 
 clean, ye and your children.' 
 
 He reseated himself. ' Ignatius Jordan,' he said, ' I 
 was mad and wicked when I took her mother to wife ;
 
 MO R WELL 5 
 
 and a mad and wicked thing you did when you took the 
 daughter. As I saw you just now — as I see you at pre- 
 sent — standing with spread arms against the black shadow 
 cross from the window, I thought it was a figure of 
 what you chose for your lot when you took my Eve. I 
 crucified myself when I married her mother, and now 
 the- iron enters your side.' He paused ; he was point- 
 ing at Ignatius with out-thrust finger, and the shadow 
 seemed to enter Ignatius against the. wall. ' The blood 
 that begins to flow will not cease to run till it lias all run 
 out.' 
 
 Again he paused. The arms of Jordan fell. 
 
 ' So she has left you,' muttered the stranger, ' she has 
 gone back to the world, to its pomps and vanities, its lusts, 
 its lies, its laughter. Gone back to the players and dan- 
 cers.' 
 
 Jordan nodded ; he could not speak. 
 
 I Dead to every call of duty,' Babb continued with a 
 scowl on his brow, ' dead to everything but the cravings of 
 a cankered heart ; dead to the love of lawful gain ; alive to 
 wantonness, and music, and glitter. Sit down, and I will 
 tell you the story of my folly, and you shall tell me the 
 tale of yours.' He looked imperiously at Jordan, who sank 
 into his chair beside the cradle. 
 
 ' I will light my pipe.' Ezekiel Babb struck a light 
 with flint and steel. ' We have made a like experience, I 
 with the mother, you with the daughter. Why are you 
 downcast ? Bcjoice if she has set you free. The mother 
 never did that for me. Did you marry her ? ' 
 
 The pale man opened his mouth, and spread out, then 
 clasped, his hands nervously, but said nothing. 
 
 I I am not deaf that I should be addressed in signs,' 
 said Babb. ' Did you many my daughter ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' The face of heaven was turned on you,' said Babb 
 discontentedly, ' and not on me. I committed myself, and 
 could not break oil" the yoke. I married,'
 
 6 EVE 
 
 The child in the cradle began to stir. Jordan rocked it 
 with his foot. 
 
 ' I will tell you all,' the visitor continued. ' I was a 
 young man when I first saw Eve — not your Eve, but her 
 mother. I had gone into Totnes, and I stood by the cloth 
 market at the gate to the church. It was the great fair- 
 day. There were performers in the open space before the 
 market. I had seen nothing like it before. What was 
 performed I do not recall. I saw only her. I thought her 
 richly, beautifully dressed. Her beauty shone forth above 
 all. She had hair like chestnut, and brown oyes, a clear, 
 thin skin, and was formed delicately as no girl of this 
 country and stock. I knew she was of foreign blood. A 
 carpet was laid in the market-place, and she danced on it 
 to music. It was like a flame flickering, not a girl dancing. 
 She looked at me out of her large eyes, and 1 loved her. 
 It was witchcraft, the work of the devil. The fire went 
 out of her eyes and burnt to my marrow ; it ran in my 
 veins. That was witchcraft, but I did not think it then. 
 There should have been a heap of wood raised and fired, 
 and she cast into the flames. But our lot is fallen in evil 
 days. The word of the Lord is no longer precious, and the 
 Lord has said, " Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." 
 That was witchcraft. How else was it that I gave no 
 thought to Tamsine Bovcy, of Buncombe, till it was too 
 late, though Buncombe joins my land, and so Buncombe 
 was lost to me for ever? Quiet that child if you want 
 to hear more. Hah! Your Eve has deserted you and 
 her babe, but mine had not the good heart to leave 
 me.' 
 
 The child in the cradle whimpered. The pale man 
 lifted it out, got milk and fed it, with trembling hand, but 
 tenderly, and it dozed off in his arm 
 
 ' A girl? ' asked Babb. Jordan nodded. 
 
 ' Another Eve — a third Eve?' Jordan nodded again. 
 'Another generation of furious, fiery blood to work con- 
 
 'D, to breed desolation. When will the earth open hey
 
 MO R WELL 7 
 
 mouth and swallow it up, that it defile no more the habi- 
 tations of Israel ? ' 
 
 Jordan drew the child to his heart, and pressed it so 
 passionately that it woke and cried. 
 
 1 Still the child or I will leave the house,' said Ezekiel 
 Babb. ' You would do well to throw a wet cloth over its 
 mouth, and let it smother itself before it work woe on you 
 and others. When it is quiet, I will proceed.' He paused. 
 When the cries ceased he went on : 'I watched Eve as she 
 danced. I could not leave the spot. Then a rope was 
 fastened and stretched on high, and she was to walk that. 
 A false step would have dashed her to the ground. I could 
 not bear it. When her foot was on the ladder, I uttered a 
 great cry and ran forward ; I caught her, I would not let 
 her go. I was young then.' He remained silent, smok- 
 ing, and looking frowningly before him. ' I was not a 
 converted man then. Afterwards, when the word of God 
 was precious to me, and I saw that I might have had Tam- 
 sine Bovey, and Buncombe, then I was sorry and ashamed. 
 But it Avas too late. The eyes of the unrighteous are 
 sealed. I was a fool. I married that dancing girl.' 
 
 He was silent again, and looked moodily at his pipe. 
 
 ' I have let the fire die out,' he said, and rekindled as 
 before. ' I cannot deny that she was a good wife. But 
 what availed it me to have a woman in the house who could 
 dance like a feather, and could not make scald cream ? 
 What use to me a woman who brought the voice of a 
 nightingale with her into the house, but no money ? She 
 know nothing of the work of a household. She had bones 
 like those of a pigeon, there was no strength in them. I 
 had to hire women to do her work, and she was thriftless 
 and thoughtless, so the money went out when it should 
 have come in. Then she bore me a daughter, and the 
 witchery was not off me, so I called her Eve— that is your 
 Eve, and after that she gave me sons, and then ' — angrily 
 — ' then, when too late, she died. Why did she net die 
 half a year before Tamsinc Bovey married Joseph Warm-
 
 8 EVE 
 
 inglon ? If slio had, I might still havo got Buncombe — 
 now it is gone, gone for ever.' 
 
 lie knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and put it into 
 his pocket. 
 
 1 Eve was her mother's darling ; she was brought up 
 liko a heathen to love play and pleasure, not work and 
 duty. The child sucked in her mother's nature with her 
 mother's milk. When the mother died, Eve — your Eve— 
 was a grown girl, and I suppose home became unendurable 
 to her. One day some play actors passed through the place 
 on their way from Exeter, and gave a performance in our 
 village. I found that my daughter, against my command, 
 went to sec it. When she ( ame home, I took her into the 
 room where is my great Bible, and I beat her. Then she 
 ran away, and I saw no more of her ; whether she went 
 after the play actors or not I never inquired. ' 
 
 ' Did you not go in pursuit ? ' 
 
 ' AVhy should I '? She would havo run away agaiu. 
 Time passed, and the other day I chanced to come across 
 a large party of strollers, when I was in Plymouth on busi- 
 ness. Then I learned from the manager about my child, 
 and so, for the first time, heard where she was. Now tell 
 jiir how she came here.' 
 
 Ignatius Jordan raised himself in his chair, and swept 
 back the hair that had fallen over his bowed face and 
 hands. 
 
 1 It is passed and over,' he said. 
 
 ' Let me hear all. I must know all,' said Babb. ' She 
 is my daughter. Thanks be, that we are not called to task 
 for the guilt of our children. The soul that sinneth it shall 
 surely die. She had light and truth set before her on one 
 side as surely as she had darkness and lies on the other, 
 Ebal and Gerizim, and she went after Ebal. It was in her 
 blood. She drew it of her mother. One vessel is for 
 honour — such am I ; another for dishonour — such are all 
 the Eves from the first to the last, that in your arms. 
 '•Is of wrath, ordained to be broken. Ah! you may
 
 M OR WELL 9 
 
 cherish that little creature in your arms. You may strain 
 it to your heart, you may wrap it round with love, hut it is 
 in vain that you seek to save it, to shelter it. It is way- 
 ward, wanton, wicked clay ; ordained from eternity to bo 
 broken. I stood between the first Eve and the shattering 
 that should have come to her. That is the cause of all my 
 woes. "Where is the second Eve ? Broken in soul, broken 
 may-be in body. There lies the third, ordained to bo 
 broken.' He folded his arms, was silent a while, and then 
 said : ' Tell me your tale. How came my daughter to your 
 house ? ' 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE LITTLE MOTHER. 
 
 ' Last Christmas twelvemonth,' said Ignatius Jordan 
 slowly, ' I was on the moor — Morwell Down it is called. 
 Night was failing. The place — where the road comes 
 along over the down, from Beer Alston and Beer Ferris. 
 I dare say you came along it, you took boat from Ply- 
 mouth to Beer Ferris, and thence the way runs — the 
 packmen travel it — to the north to Launceston. It was 
 stormy weather, and the snow drove hard ; the wind was 
 so high that a man might hardly face it. I heard cries 
 for help. I found a party of players who were on their 
 way to Launceston, and were caught by the storm and 
 darkness on the moor. They had a sick girl with 
 them ' His voice broke down. 
 
 ' Eve ? ' asked EzeLiel Babb. 
 
 Jordan nodded. After a pause he recovered himself 
 and went on. ' She could walk no further, and the party 
 was distressed, not knowing whither to go or what to do. 
 I invited them to come here. The house is large enough 
 to hold a score of people. Next day I set them on their 
 way forward, as they were pressed to be at Launceston 
 for the Christmas holidays. But the girl was too ill to
 
 io EVE 
 
 proceed, and I offered to let her remain here till she re- 
 covered. After a week had passed the actors sent hero 
 from Launceston to learn how she war, and whether she 
 could rejoin them, as they were going forward to Bodmin, 
 but she was not sufficiently recovered. Then a month 
 later, they sent again, but though she was better I would 
 not let her go. After that we heard no more of the 
 players. So she remained at Morwell, and I loved her, 
 and she became my wife.' 
 
 ' You said that you did not marry her.' 
 
 ' No, not exactly. This is a place quite out of the 
 world, a lost, unseen spot. I am a Catholic, and no priest 
 comes this way. There is the ancient chapel here where 
 the Abbot of Tavistock had mass in the old time. It is 
 bare, but the altar remains, and though no priest ever 
 comes here, the altar is a Catholic altar. Eve and I went 
 into the old chapel and took hands before the altar, and I 
 gave her a ring, and we swore to be true to each other ' — 
 his voice shook, and then a sob broke from his breast. 
 1 We had no priest's blessing on us, that is true. But Eve 
 would never tell me what her name was, or whence she 
 came. If we had gone to Tavistock or Brent Tor to be 
 married by a Protestant minister, she would have been 
 forced to tell her name and parentage, and that, she said, 
 nothing would induce her to do. It mattered not, we 
 thought. We lived here out of the world, and to me the 
 vow was as sacred when made here as if confirmed before 
 a minister of the established religion. We swore to be all 
 in all to each other.' 
 
 Ho clasped his hands on Ins knees, and went on with 
 bent head: 'But the play-actors returned and were in 
 Tavistock last week, and one of them came up here to see 
 her, not openly, but in secret. She told me nothing, and 
 he did not allow me to sec him. She met him alone 
 several times. This place is solitary and sad, and Ev< of 
 a lively nature. She tired of being here. She wearied 
 of me.'
 
 THE LITTLE MOTHER H 
 
 Bal>b laughed bitterly. « And now she is flown away 
 with a play-actor. As she deserted her father, she de- 
 serts her husband and child, and the house that housed 
 her. See you,' he put out his hand and grasped the 
 cradle : ' Here lies vanity of vanities, the pomps of the 
 flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, nestled 
 in that crib, that self-same strain of leaping, headlong, 
 wayward blood, that never will rest till poured out of 
 the veins and rolled down into the ocean, and lost — 
 lost— lost ! ' 
 
 Jordan sprang from his seat with a gasp and a stifled 
 cry, and fell back against the wall. 
 
 Babb stooped over the cradle and plucked out the 
 child. He held it in the sunlight streaming through the 
 window, and looked hard at it. Then he danced it up and 
 down with a scoffing laugh. 
 
 ' See, see ! ' he cried ; ' see how the creature rejoices 
 and throws forth its arms. Look at the shadow on the 
 wall, as of a Salamander swaying in a flood of fire. Ha ! 
 Eve — blood ! wanton blood ! I will crucify thee too ! ' He 
 raised the babe aloft against the black cross made by the 
 shadow of the mulhon and transom, as the child had 
 thrown up its tiny arms. 
 
 ' See,' he exclaimed, ' the child hangs also ! ' 
 
 Ignatius Jordan seized the babe, snatched it away from 
 the rude grasp of Babb, clasped it passionately to his 
 breast, and covered it with kisses. Then he gently re- 
 placed it, crowing and smiling, in its cradle, and rocked it 
 with his foot. 
 
 ' You fool ! ' said Babb ; ' you love the strange blood 
 in spite of its fickleness and falseness. I will tell you 
 something further. When I heard from the players that 
 Eve was here, at Morwell, I did not come on at once, 
 because I had business that called me home. But a 
 fortnight after I came over Dartmoor to Tavistock. I did 
 not come, as you supposed, up the river* to Beer Ferris and 
 along the road over your down ; no, I live at Buckfast-
 
 12 EVE 
 
 leigh by Ashburton, right away to the east across Dart- 
 moor. I came thence as far as Tavistock, and there I 
 found the players once more, who had come up from 
 Plymouth to make sport for the foolish and ungodly in 
 Tavistock. They told me that they had heard you lived 
 with my Eve, and had not married her, so I did not visit 
 you, but waited about till I could speak with her alone, and 
 I sent a message to her by one of the players that I was 
 wanting a word with her. She came to me at the place I 
 had appointed once— ay! and twice — and she feigned to 
 grieve that she had left me, and acted her part well as if 
 she loved me— her father. I urged her to leave you and 
 come back to her duty and her God and to me, but she 
 would promise nothing. Then I gave her a last chance. 
 I told her I would meet her finally on that rocky platform 
 that rises as a precipice above the river, last night, and 
 there she should give me her answer.' 
 
 Ignatius Jordan's agitation became greater, his lips 
 turned livid, his eyes were wide and staring as though 
 with horror, and he put up his hands as if warding off a 
 threatened blow. 
 
 ' You — you met her on the Raven Rock ? ' 
 
 1 1 met her there twice, and I was to have met her 
 there again last night, when she was to have given mo 
 her final answer, what she would do — stay here, and be 
 lost eternally, or come back with me to Salvation. But I 
 was detained, and I could u'jt keep the engagement, so I 
 sent one of the player-men to inform her that I would 
 come to-day instead. So I came on to-day, as appointed, 
 and she was not there, not on the Raven Rock, as you call 
 it, and I have arrived here, — but I am too late.' 
 
 Jordan clasped his hands over his eyes and moaned. 
 The babe began to wail. 
 
 4 Still the yowl of that child ! ' exclaimed Babb. ' I tell 
 you this as a last instance of her perfidy.' He raised his 
 voice above the cry" of the child. ' What think you was 
 the reason she alleged why she would not return with ma
 
 titiS LITTLE MOTHER 13 
 
 at once — why did she ask time to make up her mind? 
 She told me that yon were a Catholic, she told me of the 
 empty, worthless vow hefore an old popish altar in a 
 deserted chapel, and I knew her soul would be lost if she 
 remained with you ; you would drag her into idolatry, 
 And I urged her, as she hoped to escape hell fire, to Acs 
 Morwell and not cast a look behind, desert you and the 
 babe and all for the Zoar of Buckfastleigh. But she was 
 a dissembler. She loved neither me nor you nor her 
 child. She loved only idleness and levity, and the butterfly 
 career of a player, and some old sweetheart among the 
 play company. She has gone off with him. Now I wipe 
 my hands of her altogether.' 
 
 Jordan swayed himself, sitting as one stunned, with an 
 elbow on each knee and his head in the hollow of his 
 hands. 
 
 'Can you not still the brat?' cried Ezekiel Babb, 
 ' now that the mother is gone, who will be the mother 
 to it?' 
 
 ' I — I — 1 1 ' the cry of an eager voice. Babb looked 
 round, and saw a little girl of six, with grey eyes and 
 dark hair, a quaint, premature woman, in an old, long, 
 stiff frock. Her little arms were extended ; ' Baby- 
 sister ! ' she called, ' don't cry ! ' She ran forward, and, 
 kneeling by the cradle, began to caress and play with the 
 infant. 
 
 ' Who is this ? ' asked Ezekiel. 
 
 ' My Barbara,' answered Ignatius in a low tone ; ' I 
 was married before, and my wife died, leaving me this 
 little one.' 
 
 The child, stooping over the cradle, lifted the babe 
 carefully out. The infant crowed and made no resistance, 
 for the arms that held it, though young, were strong. 
 Then Barbara seated herself on a stool, and laid the infant 
 on her lap, and chirped and snapped her fingers and 
 laughed to it, and snuggled her face into the neck of the 
 babe. The latter quivered with excitement, the tiny arms
 
 '4 EVE 
 
 were held up, the little hands clutched in the child's long 
 hair and tore at it, and the feet kicked with delight. 
 'Father! father!' cried Barbara, 'see little Eve; she is 
 dancing and singing.' 
 
 ' Dancing and singing ! ' echoed Ezekiel Bahh, ' that is 
 all she ever will do. She comes dancing and singing into 
 the world, and she will go dancing and singing out of it— 
 and then— then,' he brushed his hand through the air, as 
 though drawing back a veil. The girl-nurse looked at the 
 threatening old man with alarm. 
 
 ' Keep the creature quiet,' he said impatiently ; ' I can- 
 not sit here and see the ugly, evil sight. Dancing and 
 singing! she begins like her mother, and her mother's 
 mother. Take her away, the sight of her stirs my 
 bile.' 
 
 At a sign from the father Barbara rose, and carried the 
 child out of the room, talking to it fondly, and a joyous 
 chirp from the little one was the last sound that reached 
 Babb's ears as the door shut behind them. 
 
 'Naught but evil has the foreign blood, the tossing 
 fever-blood, brought me. First it came without a dower, 
 and that was like original sin. Then it prevented me from 
 marrying Tamsine Bovey and getting Buncombe. That 
 was like sin of malice. Now Tamsine is dead and her 
 husband, Joseph Warmington, wants to sell. I did not 
 want Tamsine, but I wanted Buncombe; at one time I 
 could not see how Buncombe was to be had without Tam- 
 sine. Now the property is to be sold, and it joins on to 
 mine as if it belonged to it. What Heaven has joined to- 
 gether let not man put asunder. It was wicked witchcraft 
 stood in the way of my getting my rightful own.' 
 
 ' How could it be your rightful own ? ' asked Ignatius ; 
 ' was Tamsine Bovey your kinswoman ? ' 
 
 ' No, she was not, but she ought to have been my wife, 
 and so Buncombe have come to me, I seem as if I could 
 S(e into the book of the Lord's ordinance that so it was 
 written. There's some wonderful good soil in Buncombe.
 
 THE LITTLE MOTHER 15 
 
 But the Devil allured me with his Eve, and I was be- 
 witched by her beautiful eyes and little hands and feet. 
 Cursed be the day that shut me out of Buncombe. Cursed 
 be the strange blood that ran as a dividing river between 
 Owlacombe and Buncombe, and cut asunder what Provi- 
 dence ordained to be one. I tell you,' he went on fiercely, 
 ' that so long as all that land remains another's and not 
 mine, so long shall I feel only gall, and no pity nor love, 
 for Eve, and all who have issued from her— for all who 
 
 inherit her name and blood. I curse ' his voice rose 
 
 to a roar, and his grey hair bristled like the fell of a wolf, 
 ' I curse them all with ' 
 
 The pale man, Jordan, rushed at him and thrust his 
 hand over his mouth. 
 
 j Curse not,' he said vehemently ; then in a subdued 
 tone ; ' Listen to reason, and you will feel pity and love for 
 my little one who inherits the name and blood of your 
 Eve. I have laid by money : I am in no want. It shall 
 be the portion of my little Eve, and I will lend it you for 
 seventeen years. This day, the 24th of June, seventeen 
 years hence, you shall repay me the whole sum without 
 interest. I am not a Jew to lend on usury. I shall want 
 the money then for my Eve, as her dower. SJic ' — he held 
 up his head for a moment — ' she shall not be portionless. 
 In the meantime take and use the money, and when you 
 walk over the fields you have purchased with it, — bless the 
 name.' 
 
 A flush came in the sallow face of Ezekiel Babb. He 
 rose to his feet and held out his hand. 
 
 ' You will lend me the money, two thousand pounds ? ' 
 
 ' I will lend you fifteen hundred.' 
 
 ' I will swear to repay the sum in seventeen years. 
 You shall have a mortgage.' 
 
 ' On this day.' 
 
 • This 21th day of June, so help me God.' 
 
 A ray of orange light, smiting through the window, 
 was falling high up the wall. The hands of the men met in 
 the beam, and the reflection was cast on their faces, — on the
 
 16 EVE 
 
 dark hard face of Ezekiel, on tlio white quivering face of 
 Ignatius. 
 
 ' And you bless,' said the latter, 'you bless the name of 
 Eve, and the blood that follows it.' 
 
 ' I bless. Peace be to the restless blood.' 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE WHISII-IIUNT. 
 
 On a wi'd and blustering evening, seventeen years after 
 the events related in the two preceding chapters, two girls 
 were out, in spite of the fierce wind and gathering darkness, 
 in alittlc gig that accommodated only two, the body perched 
 on very large and elastic springs. At every jolt of the 
 wheels the body bounced and swayed in a manner likely to 
 trouble a bad sailor. But the girls were used to the 
 motion of the vehicle, and to the badness of the road. 
 They drove a very sober cob, who went at his leisure, 
 picking his way, seeing ruts in spile of the darkness. 
 
 The moor stretched in unbroken desolation far away on 
 all sides but one, where it dropped to the gorge of the 
 Tamar, but the presence of this dividing valley could only 
 be guessed, not perceived by the crescent moon. The dis- 
 tant Cornish moorland range of Hingston and the dome of 
 Kit Hill seemed to belong to the tract over which the girls 
 were driving. These girls were Barbara and Eve Jordan. 
 They had been out on a visit to some neighbours, if those 
 can be called neighbours wdio lived at a distance of five 
 miles, and were divided from Morwell by a range of deso- 
 late moor. They had spent the day with their friends, and 
 were returning home later than they had intended. 
 
 ' I do not know what father would say to our being 
 abroad so late, and in the dark, unattended,' said Eve, 
 4 were he at home. It is well he is away.' 
 
 • lie would rebuke me, not you,' said Barbara.
 
 THE WHTSH-HUNT 17 
 
 ' Of course lie would ; you are the elder, and respon - 
 dible.' 
 
 ' But I yielded to your persuasion.' 
 
 1 Yes, I like to enjoy myself when 1 may. It is vastly 
 dull at Morwell, Tell me, Bab, did I look well in my 
 figured dress ? ' 
 
 ' Charming, darling ; you always are that.' 
 
 1 You are a sweet sister,' said Eve, and she put her arm 
 round Barbara, who was driving. 
 
 Mr. Jordan, their father, was tenant of the Duke of 
 Bedford. The Jordans were the oldest tenants on the 
 estate which had come to the Bussells on the sequestration 
 of the abbey. The Jordans had been tenants under the 
 abbot, and they remained on after the change of religion 
 and owners, without abandoning their religion or losing 
 their position. The Jordans were not accounted squires, 
 but were reckoned as gentry. They held Morwell on long 
 leases of ninety-nine years, regularly renewed when the 
 leases lapsed. They regarded Morwell House almost as 
 their freehold ; it was bound up with all their family tradi- 
 tions and associations. 
 
 As a vast tract of country round belonged to the duke, 
 it was void of landed gentry residing on their estates, and 
 the oidy families of education and birth in the district were 
 those of the parsons, but the difference in religion formed 
 a barrier against intimacy with these. Mr. Jordan, more- 
 over, was living under a cloud. It was well-known through- 
 out the country that he had not been married to Eve's 
 mother, and this had caused a cessation of visits to Mcr- 
 well. Moreover, since the disappearance of Eve's mother, 
 Mr. Jordan had become morose, reserved, and so peculiar 
 in his manner, that it was doubted whether he were in his 
 right mind. 
 
 Like many a small country squire, ho farmed the 
 estate himself. At one time he had been accounted an 
 active farmer, and was credited with having made a great 
 deal of money, but for the last seventeen years he had 
 
 o
 
 18 EVE 
 
 neglected agriculture a good deal, to devote himself to 
 mincralogical researches. He was convinced that the rocks 
 were full of veins of metal — silver, lead, and copper, and 
 he occupied himself in searching for the metals in the 
 wood, and on the moor, sinking pits, breaking stones, 
 washing and melting what he found. He believed that he 
 would come on some vein of almost pure silver or copper, 
 which would make his fortune. Bitten with this craze, 
 he neglected his farm, which would have gone to ruin had 
 not his eldest daughter, Barbara, taken the management 
 info her own hands. 
 
 Mr. Jordan was quite right in believing that he lived 
 on rocks rich with metal : the whole land is now honey- 
 combed with shafts and adits : but he made the mistake 
 in thinking that he could gather a fortune out of the rocks 
 unassisted, armed only with his own hammer, drawing 
 only out of his own purse. His knowledge of chemistry 
 and mineralogy was not merely elementary, but incorrect ; 
 he read old books of science mixed up with the fantastic 
 alchemical notions of the middle ages, believed in the 
 sympathies of the planets with metals, and in the virtues 
 of the divining rod. 
 
 1 Does a blue or a rose ribbon sr.it my hair best, Bab ? ' 
 asked Eve. ' You see my hair is chestnut, and I doubt 
 me if pink suits the colcur so well as forget-me- 
 not.' 
 
 ' Every ribbon of every hue agrees with Eve,' said 
 Barbara. 
 
 ; You are a darling.' The younger girl made an attempt 
 to kiss her sister, in return for the compliment. 
 
 ' Be careful,' said Barbara, ' you will upset the gig.' 
 
 ' But I love you so much when you are kind.' 
 
 1 Am not I always kind to you, dear ? ' 
 
 • yes, but sometimes much kinder than at others.' 
 
 * That is, when I flatter you.' 
 
 ' if you call it flattery ' said Eve, pouting. 
 
 'No— it is plain truth, my dearest.'
 
 THE WHISH-HUNT 19 
 
 1 Bab,' broke forth the younger suddenly, ' do you not 
 think Bradstone a charming house ? It is not so dull as 
 ours.' 
 
 ' And the Cloberrys— you like them ? ' 
 
 I Yes, dear, very much.' 
 
 ' Do you believe that story about Oliver Cloberry, the 
 page ? ' 
 
 ' What story ? ' 
 
 ' That which Grace Cloberry told me.' 
 
 I I was not with you in the lanes when you were talk- 
 ing together. I do not know it.' 
 
 ' Then I will tell you. Listen, Bab, and shiver.' 
 
 ' I am shivering in the cold wind already.' 
 
 4 Shiver more shivcringly still. I am going to curdle 
 your blood.' 
 
 1 Go on with the story, but do not squeeze up against 
 me so close, or I shall be pushed out of the gig.' 
 
 ' But, Bab, I am frightened to tell the tale.' 
 
 •Then do not tell it.' 
 
 ' I want to frighten you.' 
 
 ' You are very considerate.' 
 
 1 We share all things, Bab, even our terrors. I am a 
 loving sister. Once I gave you the measles. I was too 
 selfish to keep it all to myself. Are you ready ? Grace 
 told me that Oliver Cloberry, the eldest son, was page boy 
 to John Copplestone, of Warleigh, in Queen Elizabeth's 
 reign, you know — wicked Queen Bess, who put so many 
 Catholics to death. Squire Copplestone was his godfather, 
 but he did not like the boy, though he was his godchild 
 and page. The reason was tins : he was much attached 
 to Joan Hill, who refused him and married Squire Clo- 
 berry, of Bradstone, instead. The lady tried to keep 
 friendly with her old admirer, and asked him to stand god- 
 father to her first boy, and then take him as his page ; 
 but Copplestone was a man who long bore a grudge, and 
 the boy grew up the image of his father, and so— Copple- 
 stone hated him. One day, when Copplestone was going
 
 ?o EVE 
 
 out hunting, lie called for his stirrup cup, and young Clo- 
 berry ran and brought it to him. But as the squire raised 
 the wine to his lips he saw a spider in it ; and in a rage 
 he dashed the cup and the contents in the face of the boy. 
 He hit Oliver Cloberry on the brow, and when the boy 
 staggered to his feet, he muttered something. Copplestone 
 heard him, and called to him to speak out, if he were not 
 a coward. Then the lad exclaimed, " Mother did well 
 to throw you over for my father." Some wno stood by 
 laughed, and Copplestone flared up ; the boy, afraid at 
 what he had said, turned to go, then Copplestone threw his 
 hunting dagger at him, and it struck him in the back-, 
 entered his heart, and he fell dead. Do you believe this 
 story, Bab ? ' 
 
 4 There is some truth in it, I know. Prince, in his 
 '* Worthies," says that Copplestone only escaped losing 
 his head for the murder by the surrender of thirteen 
 manors.' 
 
 'That is not all,' Eve continued; 'now comes the 
 creepy part of the story. Grace Cloberry told me that 
 every stormy night the Whish Hounds run over the downs, 
 breathing fire, pursuing Copplestone, from Warleigh to 
 Bradstone, and that the murdered boy is mounted behind 
 Copplestone, and stabs him in the back all along the way. 
 Do you believe this ? ' 
 
 ' Most assuredly not.' 
 
 ' Why should you not, Bab? Don't you think that a 
 man like Copplestone would be unable to rest in his grave ? 
 Would not that be a terrible purgatory for him to be 
 hunted night after night ? Grace told me that old Squire 
 Cloberry rides and blows his horn to egg-on the Whish 
 Hounds, and Copplestone has a black horse, and he strikes 
 spurs into its sides when the boy stabs him in the back, 
 and screams with pain. When the Judgment Day comes, 
 then only will his rides be over. I am sure I believe it all, 
 Bab. It is so horrible.' 
 
 ' It is altogether false, a foolish superstition.'
 
 THE WHISH-HUNT 21 
 
 I Look there, do you see, Bab, we are at the white 
 stone with the cross cut in it that my father put up where 
 he first saw my mother. Is it not strange that no one 
 knows whence my mother came? You remember her 
 just a little. Whither did my mother go ? ' 
 
 I I do not know, Eve.' 
 
 'There, again, Bab. You who sneer and toss your 
 chin when I speak of anything out of the ordinary, must 
 admit this to be passing wonderful. My mother came, no 
 one knows whence ; she went, no one knows whither. 
 After that, is it hard to believe in the Whish Hounds, and 
 Black Copplestone ? ' 
 
 ' The things are not to be compared.' 
 
 ' Your mother was buried at Buckland, and I have 
 seen her grave. You know that her body is there, and 
 that her soul is in heaven. But as for mine, I do not 
 even know whether she had a human soul.' 
 
 ' Eve ! What do you mean ? ' 
 
 1 1 have read and heard tell of such things. She may 
 have been a wood-spirit, an elf-maid. Whoever she was, 
 whatever she was, my father loved her. lie loves her still. 
 I can sec that. He seems to me to have her ever in his 
 thoughts.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Barbara sadly, ' he never visits my mother's 
 grave ; I alone care for the flowers there.' 
 
 1 1 can look into his heart,' said Eve. ' He loves me 
 so dearly because ho loved my mother dearer still.' 
 
 Barbara made no remark to this. 
 
 Then Eve, in her changeful mood, went back to the 
 former topic of conversation. 
 
 ' Think, think, Bab ! of Black Copplestone riding 
 nightly over these wastes on his black mare, with her tail 
 streaming behind, and the little page standing on the 
 crupper, stabbing, stabbing, stabbing ; and the Whish 
 Hounds behind, giving tongue, and Squire Cloberry in 
 the rear urging them on with his horn. Bab ! I am 
 cure father believes in tin's, I should die of fear were
 
 23 EVE 
 
 Copplestone hunted by dogs to pass this way. Hold! 
 Hark ! ' she almost screamed. 
 
 The wind was behind them ; they heard a call, then 
 the tramp of horses' feet. 
 
 Barbara even was for the moment startled, and drew 
 the gig aside, off the road upon the common. A black 
 cloud had rolled over the sickle of the moon, and obscured 
 its feeble light. Eve could neither move nor speak. She 
 quaked at Barbara's side like an aspen. 
 
 In another moment dark figures of men and horses 
 were visible, advancing at full gallop along the road. The 
 dull cob the sisters were driving plunged, backed, and was 
 filled with panic. Then the moon shone out, and a faint, 
 ghastly light fell on the road, and they could see the black 
 figures sweeping along. There were two horses, one some 
 way ahead of the other, and two riders, the first with 
 slouched hat. But what was that crouched on the crup- 
 per, clinging to the first rider ? 
 
 As he swept past, Eve distinguished the imp-like form 
 of a boy. That wholly unnerved her. She uttered a 
 piercing shriek, and clasped her hands over her 
 eyes. 
 
 The first horse had passed, the second was abreast of 
 the girls when that cry rang out. The horse plunged, 
 and in a moment horse and rider crashed down, and 
 appeared to dissolve into the ground. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 eve's king. 
 
 Some moments elapsed before Barbara recovered her sur- 
 prise, then she spoke a word of encouragement to Eve, 
 who was in an ecstasy of terror, and tried to disengage 
 herself from her arms, and master the frightened horse 
 sufficiently to allow her to descend. A thorn tree tortured
 
 EVE'S RING 23 
 
 by the winds stood solitary at a little distance, at a mound 
 which indicated the presence of a former embankment. 
 Barbara brought the cob and gig to it. there descended, 
 and fastened the horse to the tree. Then she helped her 
 sister out of the vehicle. 
 
 ' Do not be alarmed, Eve. There is nothing hero 
 supernatural to dismay you, only a pair of farmers who 
 have been drinking, and oue has tumbled off his horse. 
 We must see that he has not broken his neck.' But Eve 
 clung to her in frantic terror, and would not allow her to 
 disengage herself. In the meantime, by the sickle moon, 
 now sailing clear of the clouds, they could see that the 
 first rider had reined in his horse and turned. 
 
 ' Jasper ! ' he called, ' what is the matter ? ' 
 
 No answer came. lie rode back to the spot where the 
 second horse had fallen, and dismounted. 
 
 ' What has happened ? ' screamed the boy. ' I must 
 get down also.' 
 
 The man who had dismounted pointed to the white 
 stone and said, ' Hold the horse and stay there till you are 
 wanted. I must see what cursed mischance has befallen 
 Jasper.' 
 
 Eve was somewhat reassured at the sound of human 
 voices, and she allowed Barbara to release herself, and 
 advance into the road. 
 
 ' Who are you ? ' asked the horseman. 
 
 ' Only a girl. Can I help ? Is the man hurt ? ' 
 
 ' Hurt, of course. He hasn't fallen into a feather bed, 
 or — by good luck— into a furze brake.' 
 
 The horse that had fallen struggled to rise. 
 
 ' Out of the way,' said the man, ' I must see that the 
 brute docs not trample on him.' He helped the horse to 
 his feet ; the animal was much shaken and trembled. 
 1 Hold the bridle, girl.' Barbara obeyed. Then the man 
 went to his fallen comrade and spoke to him, but received 
 no answer. He raised his arms, and tried if any "bones 
 were broken, then he put his hand to the heart. ' Giva
 
 2| EVE 
 
 the boy tlic bridle, and come here, you girl. Help me to 
 loosen his lieck-cloth. Is there water near ? ' 
 
 ' None ; we are at the highest point of the moor.' 
 
 ' Damn it ! There is water everywhere in over-abund- 
 ance in this country, except where it is wanted.' 
 
 'He is alive,' said Barbara, kneeling and raising the 
 head of the prostrate, insensible man. 'Ho is stunned, 
 but he breathes.' 
 
 'Jasper!' shouted the man who was unhurt, ' for 
 God's sake, wake up. You know I can't remain here all 
 night.' 
 
 No response. 
 
 ' This is desperate. I must press forward. Fatalities 
 always occur when most inconvenient. I was born to ill- 
 luck. No help, no refuge near.' 
 
 ' I am by as help ; my home not far distant,' said Bar- 
 bara, ' for a refuge.' 
 
 ' yes — you I What sort of help is that ? Your 
 house ! I can't diverge five miles out of my road for that.' 
 
 ' We live not half an hour from this point.' 
 
 ' yes — half an hour multiplied by ten. You women 
 don't knew how to calculate distances, or give a decent 
 direction.' 
 
 ' The blood is flowing from his head,' said Barbara : 
 ' it is cut. He has fallen on a stone.' 
 
 ' What the devil is to be done ? I cannot stay.' 
 
 ' »Sir,' said Barbara, ' of course you stay by your com- 
 rade. Do you think to leave him half dead at night to the 
 custody of two girls, strangers, on a moor ? ' 
 
 ' You don't understand,' answered the man ; ' I cannot 
 and I will not stay.' He put his hand to his head. ' How 
 far to your home '? ' 
 
 'I have told you, half-an-hour.' 
 
 1 Honour bright — no more ? ' 
 
 ' I said, half-an-hour.' 
 
 ' Good God, "Watt ! always a fool ? ' He turned sha; 
 towards the lad who was seated on the stone. The boy
 
 EVE'S RING 25 
 
 had imsiung a violin from his back, taken it from its case, 
 had placed it under his chin, and drawn the how across the 
 strings. 
 
 1 Have done, Watt ! Let go the horses, have you ? 
 What a fate it is for a man to be cumbered with helpless, 
 useless companions.' 
 
 ' Jasper's horse is lame,' answered the boy, ' so I have 
 tied the two together, the sound and the cripple, and 
 neither can get away.' 
 
 ' Like me with Jasper. Damnation — but I must go ! 
 I dare not stay.' 
 
 The boy swung his bow in the moonlight, and above 
 the raging of the wind rang out the squeal of the instru- 
 ment. Eve looked at him, scared. He seemed some 
 goblin perched on the stone, trying with his magic fiddle 
 to work a spell on all who heard its tones. The boy 
 satisfied himself that his violin was in order, and then put 
 it once more in its case, and cast it over his back. 
 
 ' How is Jasper ? ' he shouted ; but the man gave him 
 no answer. 
 
 ' Half-an-hour ! Half an eternity to me,' growled the 
 man. ' However, one is doomed to sacrifice self for others. 
 I will take him to your house and leave him there. Who 
 live at your house ? Are there many men there ? ' 
 
 4 There is only old Christopher Davy at the lodge, but 
 he is ill with rheumatics. My father is away.' Barbara 
 regretted having said this the moment the words escaped 
 her. 
 
 The stranger looked about him uneasily, then up at the 
 moon. ' I can't spare more than half-an-hour.' 
 
 Then Barbara said undauntedly, ' No man, under any 
 circumstances, can desert a fellow in distress, leaving him, 
 perhaps, to die. You must lift him into our gig, and we 
 will convey him to Morwclt. Then go your way if you 
 will. My sister and I will take charge of him, and do our 
 best for him till you can return.' 
 
 'Return!' muttered the man scornfully. ' Chiistian
 
 26 EVE 
 
 cast his burden before the cross. He didn't return to pick 
 it up again.' 
 
 Barbara waxed wroth. 
 
 ' If the accident had happened to you, would your friend 
 have excused himself and deserted you ? ' 
 
 'Oh!' exclaimed the man carelessly, 'of course lie 
 would not.' 
 
 ' Yet you are eager to leave him.' 
 
 ' You do not understand. The cases arc widely dif- 
 ferent.' He went to the horses. ' Halloo ! ' he exclaimed 
 as he now noticed Eve. ' Another girl springing out of the 
 turf ! Am I among pixies ? Turn your face more to the 
 light. On my oath, and I am a judge, you are a beauty ! ' 
 Then he tried the horse that had fallen ; it halted. ' Tho 
 brute is fit for dogs' meat only,' he said. ' Let the fox- 
 hounds eat him. Is that your gig ? "We can never lift my 
 brother ' 
 
 ' Is he your brother ? ' 
 
 ' We can never pull him up into that conveyance. No, 
 we must get him astride my horse ; you hold him on one 
 side, I on the other, and so we shall get on. Come here, 
 Watt, and lend a hand ; you help also, Beauty, and see 
 what you can do.' 
 
 With difficulty the insensible man was raised into the 
 saddle. He seemed to gather some slight consciousness 
 when mounted, for he muttered something about pushing 
 on. 
 
 ' You go round on the further side of the horse,' said 
 the man imperiously to Barbara. ' You seem strong in 
 the arm, possibly stronger than I am. Beauty ! lead the 
 horse.' 
 
 ' The boy can do that,' said Barbara. 
 
 'He don't Know the way,' answered the man. 'Let 
 him come on with your old rattletrap. Upon my word, if 
 Beauty were to throw a bridle over my head, I would bo 
 content to follow her through the world.' 
 
 Thus they went on ; the violence of the gale had some-
 
 EVE'S RING 27 
 
 ttlmt abated, but it produced a roar among the heather 
 and gorse of the moor like that of the sea. Eve, as com- 
 manded, went before, holding the bridle. Her movements 
 were easy, her form was graceful. She tripped lightly along 
 with elastic step, unlike the firm tread of her sister. But 
 then Eve was only leading, and Barbara was sustaining. 
 
 For some distance no one spoke. It was not easy 
 to speak so as to be heard, without raising the voice ; 
 and now the way led towards the oaks and beeches and 
 pines about Morwell, and the roar among the branches 
 was fiercer, louder than that among the bushes of furze. 
 
 Presently the man cried imperiously ' Halt ! ' and 
 stepping forward caught the bit and roughly arrested the 
 horse. ' I am certain we are followed.' 
 
 ' What if we are ? ' asked Barbara. 
 
 ' What if we are ! ' echoed the man. ' Why, everything 
 to me.' He put his hands against the injured man ; Bar- 
 bara was sure he meant to thrust him out of the saddle, 
 leap into it himself, and make off. She said, ' We are 
 followed by the boy with our gig.' 
 
 Then he laughed. ' Ah ! I forgot that. When a man 
 has money about him and no firearms, he is nervous in 
 such a blast-blown desert as this, where girls who may be 
 decoys pop out of every furze bush.' 
 
 ' Lead on, Eve,' said Barbara, affronted at his insolence. 
 She was unable to resist the impulse to say, across the 
 horse, ' You are not ashamed to let two girls see that you 
 are a coward.' 
 
 The man struck his arm across the crupper of the horse, 
 caught her bonnet -string and tore it away. 
 
 ' I will beat your brains out against the saddle if you 
 insult me.' 
 
 ' A coward is always cruel,' answered Barbara ; as she 
 said this she stood off, lest he should strike again, but he 
 took no notice of her last words, perhaps had not caught 
 them. She said no more, deeming it unwise to provoke 
 Biich a man.
 
 28 EVE 
 
 Presently, turning his head, ho asked, ' Did you call 
 that girl— Eve ? ' 
 
 1 Yes ; she is my sister.' 
 
 ' That is odd,' remarked the man. ' Eve ! Eve ! ' 
 
 ' Did you call me ? ' asked the young girl who was 
 leading. 
 
 ' I was repeating your name, sweet as your face.' 
 
 1 Go on, Eve,' said Barbara. 
 
 The path descended, and became rough with 
 stones. 
 
 ' lie is moving,' said Barbara. ' Ho said something.' 
 
 ' Martin ! ' spoke the injured man. 
 
 ' 1 am at your side, Jasper.' 
 
 ' I am hurt— where am I ? ' 
 
 ' I cannot tell you ; heaven knows. In some God- 
 forgotten Avaste.' 
 
 ' Do not leave me ! ' 
 
 * Never, Jasper.' 
 
 1 You promise mo ? ' 
 
 ' With all my heart.* 
 
 ' I must trust you, Martin, — trust you.* 
 
 Then he said no more, and sank back into half- con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 ' How much farther ? ' asked the man who walked. ' I 
 call this a cursed long half-hour. To women time is 
 nought ; but every moment to me is of consequence. I 
 must push on.' 
 
 1 You have just promised not to desert your friend, 
 your brother.' 
 
 ' It pacified him, and sent him to sleep again.' 
 
 ' It was a promise.' 
 
 ' You promise a child the moon when it cries, but it 
 never gets it. How much farther ? ' 
 
 4 We are at Morwell.' 
 
 They issued from the lane, and were before the old 
 gatehouse of Morwell ; a light shone through the window 
 over the entrance door.
 
 EVE'S KING 2y 
 
 •Old Davy is up there, ill. lie cannot come down. 
 The gate is open ; we will go in,' said Barbara. 
 
 4 1 am glad we are here,' said the man called Martin ; 
 * now we must bestir ourselves.' 
 
 Thoughtlessly he struck the horse with his whip, and 
 the beast started, nearly precipitating the rider to the 
 ground. The man on it groaned. The injured man was 
 lifted down. 
 
 • Eve ! ' said Barbara, « run in and tell Jane to come 
 out, and see that a bed be got ready at once, in the lower 
 room.' 
 
 Presently out came a buxom womanservant, and with 
 her assistance the man was taken off the horse and carried 
 indoors. 
 
 A bedroom was on the ground-floor opening out of the 
 hail. Into this Eve led the way with a light, and the 
 patient was laid on a bed hastily made ready for his 
 reception. His coat was removed, and Barbara examined 
 the head. 
 
 ' Here is a gash to the bone,' she said, ' and much 
 blood is flowing from it. Jane, come with me, and we will 
 get what is necessary.' 
 
 Martin was left alone in the room with Eve and the 
 man called Jasper. Martin moved, so that the light fell 
 over her ; and he stood contemplating her with wonder 
 and admiration. She was marvellously beautiful, slender, 
 not tall, and perfectly proportioned. Her hair was of the 
 richest auburn, full of gloss and warmth. She had tho 
 exquisite complexion that so often accompanies hair of this 
 colour. Her eyes were large and blue. The pure oval 
 face was set on a delicate neck, round which hung a ker- 
 chief, which she now untied and cast aside. 
 
 ' How lovely you are ! ' said Martin. A rich blush 
 overspread her cheek and throat, and tinged her little ears. 
 Her eyes fell. His look was bold. 
 
 Then, almost unconscious of what he was doing, as an 
 act of homage, Martin removed his slouched hat, and for
 
 30 EVE 
 
 the first time Eve saw what ho was like, when she timidly 
 raised her eyes. With surprise she saw a young face. 
 The man with the imperious maimer was not much above 
 twenty, and was remarkably handsome. He had dark 
 hair, a pale skin, very large, soft dark eyes, velvety, en- 
 closed within dark lashes. His nose was regular, the 
 nostrils delicately arched and chiselled. His lip was 
 fringed with a young moustache. There was a remarkable 
 refinement and tenderness in the face. Eve could hardly 
 withdraw her wondering eyes from him. Such a face she 
 had never seen, never even dreamed of as possible. Here 
 was a type of masculine beauty that transcended all her 
 imaginings. She had met very few young men, and those 
 she did meet were somewhat uncouth, addicted to the stable 
 and the kennel, and redolent of both, more at home follow- 
 ing the hounds or shooting than associating with ladies. 
 There was 00 much of innocent admiration in the gaze of 
 simple Eve ti!iat Martin was flattered, and smiled. 
 
 ' Beauty ! ' he said, ' who would have dreamed to have 
 stumbled on the likes of you on the moor ? Nay, rather 
 let me bless my stars that I have been vouchsafed the 
 privilege of meeting and speaking with a real fairy. It is 
 said that you must never encounter a fairy without taking 
 of her a reminiscence, to be a charm through life.' 
 
 Suddenly he put his hand to her throat. She had a 
 delicate blue riband about it, disclosed when she cast aside 
 her kerchief. He put his finger between the riband and 
 her throat, and pulled. 
 
 'You are strangling me!' exclaimed Eve, shrinking 
 away, alarmed at his boldness. 
 
 ' I care not,' he replied, ' this I will have.' 
 
 He wrenched at and broke the riband, and then drew 
 it from her neck. As he did so a gold ring fell on the 
 floor. He stooped, picked it up, and put it on his little 
 finger. 
 
 'Look,' said he with a laugh, 'my hand is so small, - 
 my fingers so slim — I can wear this ring.'
 
 EVE'S RING 31 
 
 ' Give it me back ! Let me have it ! You must not 
 take it ! ' Eve was greatly agitated and alarmed. ' I may 
 not part with it. It was my mother's.' 
 
 Shen, with the same daring insolence with which he 
 ha n taken the ring, he caught the girl to him, and kissed 
 he*. 
 
 CHAPTEB V. 
 
 THE LIMPING HORSE. 
 
 Eve drew herself away with a cry of anger and alarm, and 
 with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks. At that moment 
 her sister returned with Jane, and immediately Martin re- 
 assumed his hat with broad brim. Barbara did not notice 
 the excitement of Eve ; she had not observed the incident, 
 because she entered a moment too late to do so, and no 
 suspicion that the stranger would presume to take such a 
 liberty crossed her mind. 
 
 Eve stood back behind the door, with hands on her 
 bosom to control its furious beating, and with head de- 
 pressed to conceal the heightened colour. 
 
 Barbara and the maid stooped over the unconscious 
 man, and whilst Martin held a light, they dressed and 
 bandaged his head. 
 
 Presently his eyes opened, a flicker of intelligence 
 passed through them, they rested on Martin ; a smile for 
 a moment kindled the face, and the lips moved. 
 
 'He wants to speak to you,' said Barbara, noticing the 
 direction of the eyes, and the expression that came into 
 them. 
 
 ' What do you want, Jasper ? ' asked Martin, putting 
 his hand on that of the other. 
 
 The candle-light fell on the two hands, and Barbara 
 noticed the contrast. That of Martin was delicate as the 
 hand of a woman, narrow, with taper fingers, and white ; 
 that of Jasper was strong, darkened by exposure.
 
 32 EVE 
 
 •"Will you be so good as to undress bun,' said Barbara, 
 ' and put liim to bid ? My sister will assist me in the 
 kitchen. Jane, if you desire help, is at your service.' 
 
 ' Yes, go,' said Martin, ' but return speedily, as I can- 
 not stay many minutes.' 
 
 Then the girls left the room. 
 
 'I do not want you,' he said roughly to the serving 
 woman. ' Take yourself off ; when I need you I will call. 
 No prying at the door.' He went after her, thrust Jane 
 forth and shut the door behind her. Then he returned to 
 Jasper, removed his clothes, somewhat ungently, with 
 hasty hands. When his waistcoat was off, Martin felt in 
 the inner breast-pocket, and drew from it a pocket-book. 
 He opened it, and transferred the contents to his own 
 purse, then replaced the book and proceeded with the un- 
 dressing. 
 
 When Jasper was divested of hi3 clothes, and laid at 
 his ease in the bed, his head propped on pillows, Martin 
 went to the door and called the girls. He was greatly 
 agitated, Barbara observed it. His lower lip trembled. 
 Eve hung back in the kitchen, she could not return. 
 
 Martin said in eager tones, ' I have done for him all I 
 can, now I am in haste to be off.' 
 
 ' But,' remonstrated Barbara, ' he is your brother.' 
 
 ' My brother ! ' laughed Martin. ' He is no relation of 
 mine. He is naught to me and I am naught to him.' 
 
 ' You called him your brother.' 
 
 ' That was tantamount to comrade. All sons of Ad.v.n 
 are brothers, at least in misfortune. I do not even know 
 the fellow's name,' 
 
 ' Why,' said Barbara, ' this is very strange. You call 
 him Jasper, and he named you Martin.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said the man hesitatingly, ' w t c are chance 
 travellers, riding along the same road. He asked my 
 name and I gave it him — my surname. I am a Mr. Mar- 
 tin — he mistook me ; and in exchange he gave me his 
 Christian name. That is how I knew it. If anvone aska
 
 THE LIMPING HORSE 33 
 
 about tins event, you can say that Mr. Martin passed this 
 way and halted awhile at your house, on his road to Tavi- 
 stock. 
 
 ' You are going to Tavistock ? ' 
 
 1 Yes, that is my destination.' 
 
 ' In that case I will not seek to detain you. Call up 
 Doctor Crooke and send him here.' 
 
 ' I will do so. You furnish me with an additional 
 motive for haste to depart.' 
 
 ' Go,' siid Barbara. ' God grant the poor man may 
 not die.' 
 
 ' Die ! pshaw ! die ! ' exclaimed Martin. ' Men aren't 
 such brittle ware as that pretty sister of yours. A fall 
 from a horse don't kill a man. If it did, fox-hunting 
 would not be such a popular sport. To-morrow, or the 
 day after, Mr. Jasper What's-his-name will be on his feet 
 again. Hush ! What do I hear ? ' 
 
 His cheek turned pale, but Barbara did not see it ; he 
 kept his face studiously away from the light. 
 
 ' Your horse which you hitched up outside neighed, 
 that is all.' 
 
 ' That is a great deal. It would not neigh at 
 nothing.' 
 
 He went out. Barbara told the maid to stay by the 
 sick man, and went after Martin, She thought that in all 
 probability the boy had arrived driving the gig. 
 
 Martin stood irresolute in the doorway. The horse 
 that had borne the injured man had been brought into the 
 courtyard, and hitched up at the hall door. Martin boked 
 across the quadrangle. The moon was shining into it. 
 A yellow glimmer came from the sick porter's window 
 over the great gate. The large gate was arched, a laden 
 waggon might pass under it. It was unprovided with 
 doors. Through it the moonlight could be seen on tho 
 paved ground in front of the old lodge. 
 
 A sound of horse-hoofs was audible approaching slowly, 
 uncertainly, on the stony ground ; but no wheels. 
 
 D
 
 34 EVE 
 
 1 What can the boy have done with cur gig ? ' asleep 
 Barbara. 
 
 I Will you be quiet ? ' exclaimed Martin angrily. 
 
 I I protest — you are trembling,' the said. 
 
 ' May not a man shiver when he is cold?' answered 
 the man, 
 
 She saw him shrink back into the shadow of the 
 entrance as something appeared in the moonlight outside 
 the gatehouse, indistinctly seen, moving strangely. 
 
 Again the horse neighed. 
 
 They saw the figure come on haltingly out of the light 
 into the blackness of the shadow of the gate, pass through, 
 and emerge into the moonlight of the court. 
 
 Then both saw that the lame horse that had been 
 deserted on the moor had followed, limping and slowly, as 
 it was in pain, after the other horse. Barbara went at 
 once to the poor beast, saying, ' I will put you in a stall,' 
 but in another moment she returned with a bundle in her 
 hand. 
 
 'What have you there?' asked Martin, who was 
 mounting his horse, pointing with his whip to what she 
 carried. 
 
 ' I found this strapped to the saddle.' 
 
 ' Give it to me.' 
 
 ' It does not belong to you. It belongs to the other — 
 to Jasper.' 
 
 ' Let me look through the bundle ; perhaps by that 
 means we may discover his name.' 
 
 ' I will examine it when you are gone. I will not 
 detain you ; ride on for the doctor.' 
 
 ' I insist on having that bundle,' said Martin. ' Give 
 it me, or I will strike you.' He raised his whip. 
 
 ' Only a coward would strike a woman. I will not 
 give you the bundle. It is not yours. As you said, tliis 
 man Jasper is naught to you, nor you to him.' 
 
 ' I will have it,' he said with a curse, and stooped from 
 the saddle to wrench it from her hands. Barbara was top
 
 THE LIMPING HORSE 35 
 
 quick for him ; she stepped back into the doorway and 
 slammed the door upon him, and bolted it. 
 
 He uttered an ugly oath, then turned and rode through 
 the courtyard. ' After all,' he said, ' what does it matter? 
 We were fools not to ho rid of it before.' 
 
 As he passed out of the gatehouse, he saw Eve in the 
 moonlight, approaching timidly. 
 
 ' You must give me back my ring ! ' she pleaded ; ' you 
 have no right to keep it.' 
 
 1 Must I, Beauty? Where is the compulsion?' 
 
 ' Indeed, indeed you must.' 
 
 ' Then I will — but not now ; at some day in the future, 
 when we meet again.' 
 
 ' give it me now ! It belonged to my mother, and 
 she is dead.' 
 
 1 Come ! What will you give me for it ? Another 
 kiss ? ' 
 
 Then from close by burst a peal of impish laughter, 
 and the boy bounded out of the shadow of a yew tree into 
 the moonlight. 
 
 ' Halloo, Martin ! always hanging over a pretty face, 
 detained by it when you should be galloping. I've upset 
 the gig and broken it ; give me my place again on the 
 crupper.' 
 
 He ran, leaped, and in an instant was behind Martin. 
 The horse bounded away, and Eve heard the clatter of the 
 hoofs as it galloped up the lane to the moor. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A BUNDLE OF CLOTHES. 
 
 B.uiUARA Jordan r.at by the sick man with her knitting 
 on her lap, and her eyes fixed on his face. He was asleep, 
 and the sun would have shone full on him had she not 
 drawn a red curtain across the window, which subdued 
 
 d 2
 
 36 EVE 
 
 tlie light, and diffused a warm glow over the bed. IIg 
 
 was breathing calmly ; danger was over. 
 
 On the morning after the eventful night, Mr. Jordan 
 had returned to Morwell, and had been told what had 
 happened— at least, the major part— and had seen the sick 
 man. He, Jasper, was then still unconscious. The doctor 
 from Tavistock had not arrived. The family awaited him 
 all day, and Barbara at last suspected that Martin had not 
 taken the trouble to deliver her message. She did not like 
 to send again, expecting him hourly. Then a doubt rose 
 in her mind whether Doctor Crooke might not have refused 
 to come. Her father had made some slighting remarks 
 about him in company lately. It was possible that these 
 had been repeated and the doctor had taken umbrage. 
 
 The day passed, and as he did not arrive, and as the 
 sick man remained unconscious, on the second morning 
 Barbara sent a foot messenger to Beer Alston, where 
 was a certain Mr. James Coyshe, surgeon, a young man, 
 reputed to be able, not long settled there. The gig was 
 broken, and the cob in trying to escape from the upset 
 vehicle had cut himself about the legs, and was unfit for a 
 journey. The Jordans had but one carriage horse. The 
 gig lay wrecked in the lane ; the boy had driven it against 
 a gate-post of granite, and smashed the axle and the 
 Eplashboard and a wheel. 
 
 Coyshe arrived ; he was a tall young man, with hair 
 cut very short, very large light whiskers, prominent eyes, 
 and big protruding ears. 
 
 ' He is suffering from congestion of the brain,' said the 
 surgeon ; ' if he does not awake to-morrow, order his grave 
 to be dug.' 
 
 'Can you do nothing for him?' asked Miss Jordan. 
 
 1 Nothing better than leave him in your hands,' said 
 Coyshe with a bow. 
 
 This was all that had passed between Barbara and the 
 doctor. Now the third day was gone, and the man's brain 
 Ls>l recovered from the pressure on it.
 
 A HUNDLE OF CLOTHES 37 
 
 As Barbara knitted, she stole many a glance at Jasper's 
 face ; presently, finding that she had dropped stitches and 
 made false counts, she laid her knitting in her lap, and 
 watched the sleeper with undivided attention and with a 
 face full of perplexity, as though trying to read the answer 
 to a question which puzzled her, and not finding the 
 answer where she sought it, or finding it different from 
 what she anticipated. 
 
 In appearance Barbara was very different from her 
 sister. Her face was round, her complexion olive, her 
 eyes very dark. She was strongly built, without grace 
 of form, a sound, hearty girl, hale to her heart's core. 
 She was not beautiful, her features were without chisel- 
 ling, but her abundant hair, her dark eyes, and the 
 sensible, honest expression of her face redeemed it from 
 plainness. She had practical common sense ; Eve had 
 beauty. Barbara was content with the distribution ; per- 
 fectly satisfied to believe herself destitute of personal 
 charms, and ready to excuse every act of thoughtlessness 
 committed by her sister. Barbara rose from her seat, 
 laid aside the knitting, and went to a carved oak box 
 that stood against the wall, ornamented with the figure 
 of a man in trunk hose, with a pair of eagles' heads 
 in the place of a human face. She raised the lid and 
 looked in. There lay, neatly folded, the contents of 
 Jasper's bundle, a coarse grey and yellow suit — a suit so 
 peculiar in cut and colour that there was no mistaking 
 whence it had come, and what he was who had worn it. 
 Barbara shut the chest and returned to her place, and her 
 look was troubled. Her eyes were again fixed on the 
 sleeper. His face was noble. It was pale from loss of 
 blood. The hair was black, the eyes were closed, but the 
 lashes were long and dark. His nose was aquiline without 
 being over-strongly characterised, his lips were thin and 
 well moulded. The face, even in sleep, bore an expression 
 of gravity, dignity, and integrity. Barbara found it hard 
 to associate such a face with crime, and yet how else could
 
 33 EVE 
 
 she account for that convict garb die had fi und rolled up 
 and strapped to his saddle, and which she had laid in the 
 trunk ? 
 
 Prisoners escaped now and again from the great jail oi\ 
 Dartmoor. This was one of them. As she sat watching 
 him, puzzling her mind over this, his eyes opened, and he 
 smiled. The smile was remarkably sweet. His eyes were 
 large, dark and soft, and from being sunken through sick- 
 ness, appeared to fill his face. Barbara rose hastily, and, 
 going to the fireplace, brought from it some beef-tea that 
 had been warming at the small fire. She put it to his 
 lips ; he thanked her, sighed, and lay back. She said not 
 a word, but resumed her knitting. 
 
 From this moment their positions were reversed. It 
 was now she who was watched by him. "When she looked 
 up, she encountered his dark eyes. She coloured a little, 
 and impatiently turned her chair on one side, so as to con- 
 ceal her face. A couple of minutes after, sensible in every 
 nerve that she was being observed, unable to keep her 
 eyes away, spell-drawn, she glanced at him again. He 
 was still watching her. Then she moved to her former 
 position, bit her lip, frowned, and said, ' Are you in want 
 of anything ? ' 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 1 You are sufficiently yourself to remain alone for a few 
 minutes,' she said, stood up, and left the room. She had 
 the management of the house, and, indeed, of the farm on 
 her hands ; her usual assistant in setting the labourers 
 their work, old Christopher Davy, was ill with rheuma- 
 tism. This affair had happened at an untoward moment, 
 but is it not always so ? A full hour had elapsed before 
 Miss Jordan returned. Then she saw that the convales- 
 cent's eyes were closed. He was probably again asleep, 
 and sleep was the best thing for him. She reseated her- 
 self by his bedside, and resumed her knitting. A moment 
 after she was again aware that his eyes were on her. She 
 had herself watched him so intently whibt he was asleep
 
 A BUNDLE OF CLOTHES 39 
 
 that a smile came involuntarily to her lips. She was 
 being repaid in her own coin. The smile encouraged him 
 to speak. 
 
 4 How long have I been hero ? ' 
 
 1 Four days.' 
 
 * Have I been very ill ? ' 
 
 * Yes, insensible, sometimes rambling.' 
 
 ' What made me ill ? What ails my head ? ' He put 
 his hand to the bandages. 
 
 * You have had a fall from your horse.' 
 
 He did not speak for a moment or two. His thoughts 
 moved slowly. After a while he asked, ' Where did I 
 fall ? ' 
 
 1 On the moor — Morwell Down.' 
 
 4 1 can remember nothing. When was it ? * 
 
 ' Four days ago.' 
 
 ' Yes— you have told me so. I forgot. My head is 
 not clear, there is singing and spinning in it. To-day 
 is ?' 
 
 * To-day is Monday.' 
 
 * What day was that— four days ago ? ' 
 
 * Thursday.' 
 
 ' Yes, Thursday. I cannot think to reckon backwards. 
 Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. I can go on, but not back- 
 ward. It pains me. I can recall Thursday.' He sighed 
 and turned his head to the wall. « Thursday night— yes. 
 I remember no more.' 
 
 After a while he turned his head round to Barbara and 
 asked, ' Where am I now ? ' 
 
 « At Morwell House.' 
 
 He asked no more questions for a quarter of an hoa-> . 
 He was taking in and turning over the information he had 
 received. He lay on his back and closed his eyes. His 
 face was very pale, like marble, but not like marble in this, 
 that across it travelled changes of expression that stirred 
 the muscles. Do what she would Barbara could not keep 
 her eyes off him. The horrible mystery about the man,
 
 40 EVK 
 
 'Jie lie given to her thoughts of him hy his face, forced her 
 to observe him. 
 
 Presently he opened his eyes, and met hers ; she re- 
 coiled as if smitten with a guilty feeling at her heart. 
 
 ' You have always been with me whilst I was uncon- 
 cious and rambling,' he said earnestly. 
 
 'I have been a great deal with you, but not always. 
 The maid, Jane, and an old woman who comes in occa- 
 sionally to char, have shared with me the task. You have 
 not been neglected.' 
 
 ' I know well when you have been by me- and when 
 you have been away. Sometimes I have felt as if I lay on 
 a bank with wild thyme under me ' 
 
 ' That is because we put thyme with our linen,' said 
 the practical Barbara. 
 
 lie did not notice the explanation, but went on, ' And 
 the sun shone on my face, but a pleasant air fanned me. 
 At other times all was dark and hot and miserable. 
 
 • That was according to the stages of your illness.' 
 
 1 No, I think I w T as content when you were in the room, 
 and distressed when you were away. Some persons exert 
 a mesmeric power of soothing.' 
 
 ' Sick men get strange fancies,' said Barbara. 
 
 lie rose on his elbow, and held out his hand. 
 
 ' I know that I owe my life to you, young lady. Allow 
 me to thank you. My life is of no value to any but myself. 
 I have not hitherto regarded it much. Now I shall esteem 
 it, as saved by you. I thank you. May I touch your hand ? ' 
 
 He took her fingers and put them to his lips. 
 
 ' This hand is firm and strong,' he said, ' but gentle as 
 the wing of a dove.' 
 
 She coldly withdrew her fingers. 
 
 'Enough of thanks,' she said bluntly. 4 I did but my 
 duty.' 
 
 ' Was there ' he hesitated — ' anyone with me when 
 
 I was found, cr was I alone ? ' 
 
 4 There were two — a man and a boy.'
 
 A BUNDLE OF CLOTHES 41 
 
 Tils face became troubled. He began a question, then 
 let it die in his mouth, began another, but could not bring 
 it to an end. 
 
 ' And they — where are they ? ' he asked at length. 
 
 4 That one called Martin brought you here.' 
 
 ' He did ! ' exclaimed Jasper, eagerly. 
 
 • That is — he assisted in bringing you here.' Barbara 
 was so precise and scrupulous about truth, that she felt 
 herself obliged to modify her first assertion. ' Then, when 
 he saw you safe in our hands, he left you.' 
 
 ' Did he — did he say anything about me ? ' 
 
 1 Once— but that I suppose was by a slip, he called you 
 brother. Afterwards he asserted that you were nothing to 
 him, nor he to you.' 
 
 Jasper's face was moved with painful emotions, but it 
 soon cleared, and he said, ' Yes, I am nothing to him — no- 
 thing. He is gone. He did well. I was, as he said— and 
 he spoke the truth — nothing to him.' 
 
 Then, hastily, to turn the subject, ' Excuse me. Where 
 am I now ? And, young lady, if you will not think it rude 
 of me to inquire, who are you to whom I owe my poor 
 life ? ' 
 
 ' This, as I have already said, is Monvell, and I am the 
 [laughter of the gentleman who resides in it, Mr. Ignatius 
 Jordan.' 
 
 He fell back on the bed, a deadly greyncss came over 
 his face, he raised his hands : ' My God ! my God ! this is 
 most wonderful. Thy ways are past finding out.' 
 
 ' What is wonderful ? ' asked Barbara. 
 
 He did not answer, but partially raised himself again 
 in bed. 
 
 'Where are my clothes ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' Which clothes ? ' inquired Barbara, and her voice was 
 hard, and her expression became stern. She hesitated for 
 a moment, then went to the chest and drew forth the suit 
 that had been rolled up on the pommel of the saddle; 
 also that which he had worn when he met with the acci-
 
 42 EVE 
 
 dent. She held cne in each hand, and returned to tho 
 bed. 
 
 ' "Which ? ' she asked gravely, fixing her eyes on him. 
 
 He looked from one to the other, and his pale faco 
 turned a chalky white. Then ho said in a low tremulous 
 tone, ' I want my waistcoat.' 
 
 She gave it him. He felt eagerly about it, drew the 
 pocket-beck from the breast-pocket, opened it and fell 
 back. 
 
 1 Gone ! ' he moaned, ' crone ! ' 
 
 The garment dropped from his fingers upon the floor, 
 his eyes became glassy and fixed, and scarlet spots of 
 colour formed in his cheeks. 
 
 After this he became feverish, and tossed in his bed, 
 put his hand to his brow, plucked at the bandages, asked 
 for water, and his pulse quickened. 
 
 Towards evening he seemed conscious that his senses 
 were slipping beyond control. He called repeatedly for 
 the young lady, and Jane, who attended him then, was 
 obliged to fetch Barbara. 
 
 The sun was setting when she came into the room. 
 She despatched Jane about some task that had to be done, 
 and, coming to the side of the bed, said in a constrained 
 voice, ' Yes, what do you require ? I am here.' 
 
 lie lifted himself. His eyes were glowing with fever ; 
 he put out his hand and clasped her wrist ; his hand was 
 burning. His iips quivered ; his face was full of a, fiery 
 eagerness. 
 
 ' I entreat you ! you are so good, so kind ! You have 
 surprised a secret. I beseech you let no one else into 
 it— no one have a suspicion of it. .1 am hot. I am in 
 a fever. I am afraid what I may say when others are by 
 me. I would go on my knees to you could I rise. I pray 
 
 you, I pray you ' he put his hands together, ' do not 
 
 leave me if I become delirious. It is a hard thing to ask. 
 I have no claim on you ; but I fear. I would have none 
 but you know what I say, and I may say strange things if
 
 A BUNDLE OF CLOTHES 43 
 
 my mind becomes deranged -with fever. You feci my hand, 
 is it not like a red-hot-coal? You know that I am likely 
 to wander. Stay by me— in pity— in mercy — for the love 
 of God —for the love of God ! ' 
 
 His hand, a fiery hand, grasped her wrist convulsively. 
 She stood by his bed, greatly moved, much stung with 
 self-reproach. It was cruel of her to act as she had done, 
 to show him that convict suit, and lot him see that she 
 knew his vileness. It was heartless, wicked of her, when 
 the poor fellow was just returned to consciousness, to cast 
 him back into his misery and shame by the sight of that 
 degrading garment. 
 
 Spots of colour came into her cheeks almost as deep as 
 those which burnt in the sick man's face. 
 
 ' I should have considered he was ill, that he was under 
 my charge,' she said, and laid her left hand en his to 
 intimate that she sought to disengage her wrist from hi3 
 grasp. 
 
 At the touch his eyes, less wild, looked pleadingly at 
 her. 
 
 'Yes, Mr. Jasper,' she said, ' I ' 
 
 ' Why do you call me Mr. Jasper ? ' 
 
 ' That other man gave you the name.' 
 
 4 Yes, my name is Jasper. And yours ? ' 
 
 ' Barbara. I am Miss Barbara Jordan.' 
 
 ' Will you promise what I asked ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' she said, ' I will stay by you all night, and what- 
 ever passes your lips shall never pass mine.' 
 
 He smiled, and gave a sigh of relief. 
 
 ' How good you are ! How good ! Barbara Jordan.' 
 
 He did not call her Miss, and she felt slightly piqued. 
 He, a convict, to speak of her thus ! But she pacified her 
 wounded pride with the consideration that his mind was 
 disturbed by fever.
 
 44 EVE 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A NIGHT-WATCH. 
 
 Barbara bad passed her word to remain all night with the 
 sick man, should he prove delirious ; she was scrupulously 
 conscientious, and in spite of her father's remonstrance 
 and assurance that old Betty Westlake could look after the 
 fellow well enough, she remained in the sick room after 
 the rest had gone to bed. 
 
 That Jasper was fevered was indubitable ; he was hot 
 and restless, tossing his head from side to side on the 
 pillow, and it was not safe to leave him, lest he should dis- 
 arrange his bandage, lest, in an access of fever, he should 
 leap from his bed and do himself an injury. 
 
 After everyone had retired the house became very still. 
 Barbara poked and made up the fire. It must not become 
 too large, as the nights were not cold, and it must not be 
 allowed to go out. 
 
 Jasper did not speak, but he opened his eyes occasion- 
 ally, and looked at his nurse with a strange light in his 
 eyes that alarmed her. What if he were to become frantic ? 
 What— worse — were he to die ? He was only half con- 
 scious, he did not seem to know who she was. His lips 
 twitched and moved, but no voice came. Then he clasped 
 both hands over his brow, and moaned, and plucked at the 
 bandages. ' You must not do that,' said Barbara Jordan, 
 rising from her chair and going beside him. He glared at 
 her from his burning eyes without intelligence. Then she 
 laid her cool hand on his strapped brow, and he let his arms 
 fall, and lay still, and the twitching of his mouth ceased. 
 The pressure of her hand eased, soothed him. Directly 
 she withdrew her hand he began to murmur and move, 
 and cry out, ' Martin ! Martin 1 ' 
 
 Then he put forth his hand and opened it wide, and 
 closed it again, in a wild, restless, unmeaning manner. 

 
 A NIGHT-WATCH 45 
 
 Next he waved it excitedly, as if in vehement conver- 
 sation or earnest protest. Barbara spoke to him, but he 
 did not hear her. She urged him to lie quiet and not 
 excite himself, but her words, if they entered his ear, 
 conveyed no message to the brain. He snatched at hia 
 bandage. 
 
 1 You shall not do that,' she said, and caught his hand, 
 and held it down firmly on the coverlet. Then, at once, 
 he was quiet. He continued turning his head on the pil- 
 low, but he did not stir his arm. When she attempted to 
 withdraw her hand he would not suffer her. Once, when 
 almost by main force, she plucked her hand away, he be- 
 came excited and tried to rise in his bed. In terror, to 
 pacify him, she gave him her hand again. She moved her 
 chair close to the bed, where she could sit facing him, and 
 let him hold her left hand with his left. He was quiet at 
 once. It seemed to her that her cool, calmly flowing blocd 
 poured its healing influence through her hand up his arm 
 to his tossing, troubled head. Thus she was obliged to sit 
 all night, hand in hand with the man she was constrained 
 to pity, but whom, for his guilt, she loathed. 
 
 He became cooler, his pulse beat less fiercely, his hand 
 was less burning and dry. She saw him pass from vexing 
 dreams into placid sleep. She was unable to knit, to do 
 any work all night. She could do nothing other than 
 sit, hour after hour, with her eyes on his face, trying to 
 unravel the riddle, to reconcile that noble countenance 
 with an evil life. And when she could not solve it, sbo 
 closed her eyes and prayed, and her prayer was concerned, 
 like her thoughts, with the man who lay in fever and pain, 
 and who clasped her so resolutely. Towards dawn his 
 eyes opened, and there was no more vacancy and fire in 
 them. Then she went to the little casement and opened it. 
 The fresh, sweet air of early morning rushed in, and wit 1 ) 
 the air came the song of awakening thrushes, the spiral 
 twitter of the lark. One fading star was still shining in a 
 sky that was laying aside its sables.
 
 46 EVE 
 
 She went back to the bedside ar.d slid gently, 'You 
 arc better.' 
 
 'Thank you,' he answered. 'I have given you much 
 trouble.' 
 
 She shook her head, she did not speak. Something 
 rose in her throat. She had extinguished the lamp. In 
 the grey dawn the face on the bed looked death-like, and a 
 gush of tenderness, of pity for the patient, filled Barbara's 
 heart. She brought a basin and a sponge, and, leaning 
 over him, washed his face. lie thanked her with his sweet 
 smile, a smile that told of pain. It affected Barbara 
 strangely. She drew a long breath. She could not speak. 
 If she had attempted to do so she would have sobbed ; for 
 she was tired with her continued watching. To be a nurse 
 to the weak, whether to a babe or a wounded man, brings 
 out all the sweet springs in a woman's soul ; and poor 
 Barbara, against her judgment, felt that every gentle vein 
 in her heart was oozing with pity, love, solicitude, mercy, 
 faith and hope. What eyes that Jasper had ! so gentle, 
 soft, and truthful. Could treachery, cruelty, dishonesty 
 lurk beneath them ? 
 
 A question trembled on Barbara's lips. She longed to 
 ask him something about himself, to know the truth, to 
 have that horrible enigma solved. She leaned her hand 
 on the back of the chair, and put the other to her lips. 
 
 ' What is it ? ' he asked suddenly. 
 
 She started. He had read her thoughts. Her eyes 
 met his, and, as they met, her eyes answered and said, 
 s Yes, there is a certain matter. I cannot rest till I 
 know.' 
 
 ' I am sure,' he said, ' there is something you wish to 
 say, but arc afraid lest you should excite me.' 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 ' I am better now ; the wind blows cool over me, 
 and the morning light refreshes me. Do not be afraid. 
 Speak.' 
 
 She hesitated.
 
 A NIGHT-WATCH 45 
 
 1 Speak/ he said. ' I am fully conscious and self-pos- 
 ecssed now.' 
 
 ' Yes,' she said slowly. ' It is right that I should know 
 for certain what you are.' She halted. She shrank from 
 the question. He remained waiting. Then she asked with 
 a trembling voice, • Is that convict garment yours ? ' 
 
 He turned away his face sharply. 
 
 She waited for the answer. He did not reply. His 
 breast heaved and his whole body shook, the very bed 
 quivered with suppressed emotion. 
 
 ' Do not be afraid,' she said, in measured tones. ' I 
 will not betray you. I have nursed you and fed you, and 
 bathed your head. No, never ! never ! whatever your 
 crime may have been, will I betray you. No one in the 
 house suspects. No eyes but mine have seen that garment. 
 Do not mistrust me ; not by word or look will I divulge tho 
 secret, but I must know all.' 
 
 Still he did not reply. His f.ice was turned away, but 
 she saw the working of the muscles of his cheek-bone, and 
 the throb of the great vein in his temple. Barbara felt a 
 flutter of compunction in her heart. She had again over- 
 agitated this unhappy man when he. was not in a condition 
 to bear it. She knew she had acted precipitately, unfairly, 
 •but the suspense had become to her unendurable.- ; 
 
 1 1 have done wrong to ask the question,' she said. 
 
 1 No,' he answered, and looked at her. His large eyes, 
 sunken and lustrous with sickness, met hers, and he saw 
 that tears were trembling on her lids. 
 
 ' No,' he said, ' you did right to ask ; ' then paused. 
 The garment— the prison garment is mine.' 
 
 A catch in Barbara's breath ; she turned her head 
 hastily and walked towards the door. Near the door stood 
 the oak chest carved with the eagle-headed man. She 
 stooped, threw it open, caught up the convict clothes, 
 rolled them together, and ran up into the attic, where she 
 secreted them in a place none but herself would be likely 
 [0 look into.
 
 48 EVE 
 
 A moment after she reappeared, composed. 
 
 • A packman came this way with his wares yesterday,' 
 said Miss Jordan gravely. ' Amongst other news he brought 
 was this, that a convict had recently broken out from the 
 prison at Prince's Town on Dartmoor, and was thought to 
 have escaped off the moor.' He listened and made no 
 answer, but sighed heavily. ' You are safe here,' she said ; 
 ' your secret remains here ' — she touched her breast. ' My 
 father, my sister, none of the maids suspect anything. 
 Never let us allude to this matter again, and I hope that as 
 soon as you are sufficiently recovered you will go your 
 way.' 
 
 The door opened gently and Eve appeared, fresh and 
 lovely as a May blossom. 
 
 ' Bab, dear sister,' said the young girl, ' let me sit by 
 him now. You must have a nap. You take everything 
 upon you — you are tired. Why, Barbara, surely you have 
 been crying ? ' 
 
 'I crying!' exclaimed the elder angrily. 'What 
 
 have I had to make me cry ? No ; I am tired, and my 
 eyes burn.' 
 
 1 Then close them and sleep for a couple of hours.' 
 
 Barbara left the room and shut the door behind her. 
 In the early morning none of the servants could be spared 
 to sit with the sick man. 
 
 Eve went to the table and arranged a bunch of oxlip.^, 
 dripping with dew, in a glass of water. 
 
 ' How sweet they are ! ' she said, smiling. ' Smell 
 them, they will do you good. These are of the old monks' 
 planting ; they grow in abundance in the orchard, but 
 nowhere else. The oxlips and the orchis suit together 
 perfectly. If the oxlip had been a little more yellow and 
 the orchis a little more purple, they would have made an 
 ill-assorted posy.' 
 
 Jasper looked at the flowers, then at her, 
 
 4 Arc you her sister ? ' 
 
 * What, Barbara's sister ? *
 
 A NIGHT-WATCH 49 
 
 ' Yes, her name is Barbara.' 
 
 1 Of course I am.' 
 
 He looked at Eve. He could trace in her no likeness 
 to her sister. Involuntarily he said, ' You are very beau- 
 tiful- 
 She coloured — with pleasure. Twice within a fow 
 clays the same compliment had been paid her. 
 
 1 What is your name, young lady ? ' 
 
 ' My name is Eve.' 
 
 * Eve ! ' repeated Jasper. ' How strange ! ' 
 
 Twice alco, within a few clays, had this remark been 
 passed on her name. 
 
 ' Why should it be strange ? ' 
 
 ' Because that was also the name of my mother and of 
 my sister.' 
 
 ' Is your mother alive ? ' 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 1 And your sister ? ' 
 
 ' I do not know. I remember her only faintly, and my 
 father never speaks of her.' Then he changed the subject. 
 1 You are very unlike Miss Barbara. I should not have 
 supposed you were sisters.' 
 
 ' Y\ r e are half-sisters. We had not the same mother.' 
 
 He was exhausted with speaking, and turned towards 
 the wall. Eve seated herself in the chair vacated by Bar- 
 bara. She occupied her fingers with making a cowslip 
 ball, and when it Avas made she tossed it. Then, as he 
 moved, she feared that she disturbed him, so she put the 
 ball on the table, from which, however, it rolled off. 
 
 Jasper turned as she was groping for it. 
 
 ' Do I trouble you ? ' she said. ' Honour bright, I will 
 sit quiet.' 
 
 How beautiful she looked with her chestnut hair ; how 
 delicate and pearly was her lovely neck ; what sweet eyes 
 were hers, blue as a heaven full of sunshine ! 
 
 ' Have you sat much with me, Miss Eve, whilst I have 
 seen ill ? ' 
 
 E
 
 50 EVE 
 
 ' Not much ; my sister would not suffer mc. I am such 
 a fidget that she thought I might irritate you ; such a 
 giddypate that I might forget your draughts and com- 
 presses. Barhara is one of those people who do all things 
 themselv< s, and rely on no one else.' 
 
 ' I must have given Miss Barbara much trouble How 
 good she has been ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, Barbara is good to everyone ! She can't help it. 
 Some people arc born good-tempered and practical, and 
 others are born pretty and poetical ; some to be good 
 needlewomen, others to wear smart clothes.' 
 
 ' Tell me, Miss Eve, did anyone come near me when I 
 met with my accident ? ' 
 
 'Your friend Martin and Barbara brought you hero.' 
 
 ' And when I was here who had to do with my 
 clothes ? ' 
 
 Martin undressed you whilst my sister and I got ready 
 what was necessary for you.' 
 
 ' And my clothes — who touched them ? ' 
 
 'After your friend Martin, only Barbara; she folded 
 them and put them away. Why do you ask ? ' 
 
 Jasper sighed and put his hand to his head. Silence 
 ensued for some time ; had not he held his hand to 
 the wound Eve would have supposed he was asleep. 
 Now, all at once, Eve saw the cowslip ball ; it was 
 under the table, and with the point of her little foot she 
 could touch it and roll it to her. So she played with the 
 ball, rolling it with her feet, but so lightly that she made 
 no noise. 
 
 All at once he looked round at her. Startled, she 
 kicked the cowslip ball away. He turned his head away 
 again. 
 
 About five minutes later she was on tiptoe, stealing 
 /.cross the room to where the ball had rolled. She picked 
 it up and laid it on the pillow near Jasper's face. He 
 opened his eyes. They had been closed. 
 
 1 1 thought,' explained Eve, ' that the scent of the
 
 A NIGHT-WATCH 51 
 
 flowers might do you good. They are somewhat bruised 
 and so smell the stronger.' 
 
 He half nodded and closed his eyes again. 
 
 Presently she plucked timidly at the sheet. As he paid 
 no attention she plucked again. He looked at her. The 
 bright face, like an opening wild rose, was bending over 
 him. 
 
 ' Will it disturb you greatly if I ask you a question ? ' 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 ' Who was that young man whom you called Martin ? ' 
 
 He looked earnestly into her eyes, and the colour 
 mounted under the transparent skin of her throat, cheeks, 
 and brow. 
 
 ' Eve,' ho said gravely, ' have you ever been ill — cut, 
 wounded '—he put out his hand and lightly indicated her 
 heart—' there ? ' 
 
 She shook her pretty head with a smile. 
 
 ' Then think and ask no more about Martin. He came 
 to you out of darkness, he went from you into darkness. 
 Put him utterly and for ever out of your thoughts as you 
 value your happiness.' 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 BAB. 
 
 As Jasper recovered, he saw less of the sisters'. June 
 had come, and with it lovely weather, and with the lovely 
 weather the haysel. The air was sweet about the house 
 with the fragrance of hay, and the soft summer breath 
 wafted the pollen and fine strands on its wings into the 
 court and in at the windows of the old house. Hay harvest 
 was a busy time, especially for Barbara Jordan. She 
 engaged extra hands, and saw that cake was baked and 
 beer brewed for the harvesters. Mr. Jordan had become, 
 as years passed, more abstracted from the cares of the 
 
 E 2
 
 52 EVE 
 
 farm, and more steeped in his fantastic scmi-scientiific pur- 
 suits. As his eldest daughter put her strong shoulder to 
 the wheel of business, Mr. Jordan edged his from under it 
 and left the whole pressure upon her. Consequently Bar- 
 bara was very much engaged. All that was necessary to 
 bo done for the convalescent was done, quietly and con- 
 siderately ; but Jasper was left considerably to himself. 
 Neither Barbara nor Eve had the leisure, even if they 
 had the inclination, to sit in his room and entertain 
 him with conversation. Eve brought Jasper fresh flowers 
 every morning, and by snatches sang to him. The little 
 parlour opened out of the room he occupied, and in it was 
 her harpsichord, an old instrument, without much tone, 
 but it served to accompany her clear fresh voice. In the 
 evening she and Barbara sang duets. The elder sister had 
 a good alto voice that contrasted well with the warble of 
 her sister's soprano. 
 
 Mr. Jordan came periodically into the sick room, and 
 saluted his guest in a shy, reserved manner, asked how he 
 progressed, made some common remark about the weather, 
 fidgeted with the backs of the chairs or the brim of his 
 hat, and went away. Ho was a timid man with strangers, 
 a man who lived in his own thoughts, a man with a 
 frightened, far-off look in his eyes. He was ungainly in 
 his movements, through nervousness. He made no friends, 
 he had acquaintances only. 
 
 His peculiar circumstances, the connection with Eve's 
 mother, his natural reserve, had kept him apart from the 
 gentlefolks around. His reserve had deepened of late, and 
 his shyness had become painful to himself and to thoso 
 with whom he spoke. 
 
 As Eve grew up, and her beauty was observed, the 
 neighbours pitied the two girls, condemned through no 
 fault of their own to a life of social exclusion. Of Barbara 
 everyone spoke well, as an excellent manager and thrifty 
 housekeeper, kind of heart, in all things reliable. Of Eve 
 
 yone spoki i abeauty. Some little informal conclaves
 
 8AB S3 
 
 had been held in the neighbourhood, and one good lady 
 had said to the Cloberrys, ' If you will call, so will I.' 80 
 the Clobenys of Bradstone, as a leading county family, had 
 taken the initiative and called. As the Cloberry family 
 coach drove up to the gate of Morwell, Mr. Jordan was all 
 but caught, but he had the presence of mind to slip behind 
 a laurel bush, that concealed his body, whilst exposing his 
 legs. There he remained motionless, believing himself un- 
 seen, till the carriage drove away. After the Cloberrys had 
 called, other visitors arrived, and the girls received invita- 
 tions to tea, which they gladly accepted. Mr. Jordan 
 sent his card by his daughters ; he would make no calls in 
 person, and the neighbours were relieved not to see him. 
 That affair of seventeen years ago was not forgiven. 
 
 Mr. Jordan was well pleased that his daughters should 
 go into society, or rather that his daughter Eve should be re- 
 ceived and admired. With Barbara he had not much in 
 common, only the daily cares of the estate, and these wor- 
 ried him. To Eve, and to her alone, he opened out, and 
 spoke of things that lived within, in his mind, to her alone 
 did he exhibit tenderness. Barbara was shut out from his 
 heart ; she felt the exclusion, but did not resent the prefer- 
 ence shown to Eve. That was natural, it was Eve's due, 
 for Eve was so beautiful, so bright, so perfect a little fairy. 
 But, though Barbara did not grudge her young sister the 
 love that was given to her, she felt an ache in her heart, 
 and a regret that the father's love was not so full that it 
 could embrace and envelop both. 
 
 One day, when the afternoon sun was streaming into 
 the hall, Barbara crossed it, and came to the convalescent's 
 room. 
 
 ' Come,' she said, ' my father and I think you had 
 better sit outside the house ; we are carrying the hay, and 
 it may amuse you to watch the waggons. The sweet air 
 will do you good. You must be weary of confinement in 
 this little room.' 
 
 4 How can 1 be weary where I am so kindly treated ! —
 
 54 EVE 
 
 where all speaks to mo of rest and peace and culture ! 
 Jasper was dressed, and was silling in an arm-chair read- 
 ing, or pretending to read, a book. 
 
 ' Can you rise, Mr. Jasper ? ' she asked. 
 
 He tried to leave the chair, but he was still very weak, 
 so she assisted him. 
 
 ' And now,' she said kindly, ' walk, sir ! ' 
 
 She watched his steps. His face was pale, and the 
 pallor was the more ohservahle from the darkness of his 
 hair. ' I think,' said he, forcing a smile, ' I must beg a 
 littL support.' 
 
 She went without hesitation to his side, and he put his 
 arm in hers. lie had not only lost much blood, but had 
 been bruised and severely shaken, and was not certain of 
 his steps. Barbara was afraid, in crossing the hall, lest he 
 should fall on the stone floor. She disengaged his hand, 
 put her arm about his waist, bade him lean on her shoul- 
 der. How strong she seemed ! 
 
 ' Can you get on now ? ' she asked, looking up. His 
 deep eyes met her. 
 
 ' I could get on for ever thus,' he answered. 
 
 She flushed scarlet. 
 
 1 1 dislike such speeches,' she said ; and disengaged her- 
 self from him. Whilst her arm was about him her hand 
 had felt the beating of his heart. 
 
 She conducted him to a bench in the garden near a bed 
 of stocks, where the bets were busy. 
 
 ' How beautiful the world looks when one has not seen 
 it for many days ! ' he said. 
 
 ' Yes, there is a good shear of hay, saved in splendid 
 order.' 
 
 ' When a child is born into the world there is always 
 a gathering, and a festival to greet it. I am born anew 
 into the beautiful world to-day. I am on the threshold of 
 a new life, and you have nursed me into it. Am I too 
 presumptuous if I ask you to sit here a very little while, 
 and welcome me into it ? That will be a festival indeed.'
 
 BAB 55 
 
 She smiled good-humouredly, and took her place on the 
 bench. Jasper puzzled her daily more and more. What 
 was he ? What was the temptation that had led him 
 away ? Was his repentance thorough ? Barbara prayed 
 for him daily, with the excuse to her conscience that it was 
 always well to pray for the conversion of a sinner, and that 
 she was bound to pray for the man whom Providence 
 had cast broken and helpless at her feet. The Good Sa- 
 maritan prayed, doubtless, for the man who fell among 
 thieves. She was interested in her patient. Her patient 
 he was, as she was the only person in the house to provide 
 and order whatever was done in it. Her patient, Eve and 
 her father called him. Her patient he was, somehow her 
 own heart told her he was ; bound to her doubly by the so- 
 licitude with which she had nursed him, by the secret of 
 his life which she had surprised. 
 
 He puzzled her. He puzzled her more and more daily 
 There was a gentleness and refinement in his manner and 
 speech that showed her he was not a man of low class, that 
 if he were not a gentleman by birth he was one in mind 
 and culture. There was a grave religiousness about him, 
 moreover, that could not be assumed, and did not comport 
 with a criminal. 
 
 Who was he, and what had he done ? How far had he 
 sinned, or been sinned against ? Barbara's mind was 
 fretted with these ever-recurring questions. Teased with 
 the enigma, she could not divert her thoughts for long 
 from it — it formed the background to all that occupied her 
 during the day. She considered the dairy, but when the 
 butter was weighed, went back in mind to the riddle. She 
 was withdrawn again by the demands of the cook for gro- 
 ceries from her store closet ; when the closet door was shut 
 she was again thinking of the puzzle. She had to calcu- 
 late the amount of cake required for the harvesters, and 
 went on from the calculations of currants and sugar to the 
 balancing of probabilities in the case of Jasper. 
 
 She had avoided sceincr him of late more than was no-
 
 56 EVE 
 
 cessary, she had resolved not to go near him, and let the 
 maid Jane attend to his requirements, aided by Christo- 
 pher Davy's boy, who cleaned tlio boots and knives, and 
 run errands, and weeded the paths, and was made gener- 
 ally useful. Yet for all her resolve she did not keep it : 
 she discovered that some little matter had been neglected, 
 which forced her to enter the room. 
 
 When she was there she was impatient to be out of it 
 again, and she hardly spoke to Jasper, was short, busy, and 
 away in a moment. 
 
 ' It does not do to leave the servants to themselves,' 
 soliloquised Barbara. ' They half do whatever they are 
 set at. The sick man would not like to complain. I must 
 see to everything myself.' 
 
 Nov/ she complied with his request to sit beside him, 
 but was at once filled with restlessness. She could not 
 speak to him on the one subject that tormented her. She 
 had herself forbidden mention of it. 
 
 She looked askance at Jasper, who was not speaking. 
 lie had his hat off, on his lap ; his eyes were moist, hi3 
 lips were moving. She was confident he was praying. lie 
 turned in a moment, re-covered his head, and said with his 
 sweet smile, ' God is good. I have already thanked you. 
 I have thanked him now.' 
 
 Was this hypocrisy ? Barbara could not believe it. 
 
 She said, ' If ycu have no objection, may we know 
 your name '? I have been asked by my father and others. 
 I mean,' she hesitated, ' a name by which you would care 
 to be called.' 
 
 ' You shall have my real name,' he said, slightly colour- 
 
 ing. 
 
 ' For myself to know, or to tell others ? ' 
 ' As you will, Miss Jordan. My name is Babb.* 
 ' Babb ! ' echoed Barbara. She thought to herself that 
 it was a name as ugly as it was unusual. At that moment 
 Eve appeared, glowing with- life, a wreath cf wild roses 
 fvound about her hat
 
 i;ab 57 
 
 1 Bab 1 Bab dear ! ' she cried, referring to her sister. 
 
 Barbara turned crimson, and sprang from her seat. 
 
 "The last cartload is going to start,' said Eve eagerly, 
 •' and the men say that I am the Queen and must sit on the 
 top ; but I want half- a- crown, Bab dear, to pay my footing 
 up the ladder to the top of the load.' 
 
 Barbara drew her sister away. ' Eve ! never call me 
 by that ridiculous pet-name again. When we were chil- 
 dren it did not matter. Now I do not wish it.' 
 
 ' Why not ? ' asked the wondering girl. ' How hot you 
 are looking, and yet you have been sitting still ! ' 
 
 ' I do not wish it, Eve. You will make me very angry, 
 and I shall feel hurt if you do it again. Bab— think, dar- 
 ling, the name is positively revolting, I assure you. I hate 
 it. If you have any love for me in your heart, any re- 
 gard for my feelings, you will not call me bv it again. 
 Bab ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE POCKET-BOOK. 
 
 Jasper drew in full draughts of the delicious air, leaning 
 back on the bench, himself in shade, watching the trees, 
 hearing the hum of the bees, and the voices of the harves- 
 ters, pleasant and soft in the distance, as if the golden sun 
 had subdued all the harshness in the tones of the rough 
 voices. Then the waggon drew nigh ; the garden was 
 above the level of the farmyard, terraced so that Jasper 
 could not see the cart and horses, or the men, but he saw 
 the great load of grey-green hay move by, with Eve and 
 Barbara seated on it, the former not only crowned with 
 roses, but holding a pole with a bunch of roses and a 
 flutter of ribands at the top. Eve's golden hair had fallen 
 loose and was about her shoulders. She was in an ecstasy 
 of gaiety. As the. load travelled along before the garden,
 
 53 EVE 
 
 both Eve and her sister saw the sick man on his bench. 
 II i in! so thin, white, anil feeble in the midst of a fresh 
 
 and vigorous nature that Barbara's heart grew soft, and 
 she had to bite her lip to control its quiver. Eve waved 
 her staff topped with flowers and streamers, stood up in 
 the hay and curtsied to him, with a merry laugh, and then 
 dropped back into the hay, having lost her balance through 
 the jolting of the wheels. Jasper brightened, and, remov- 
 ing his hat, returned the salute with comic majesty. Then, 
 as Eve and Barbara disappeared, he fell back against the 
 wall, and his eyes rested on the fluttering leaves of a white 
 poplar, and some white butterflies that might have been 
 leaves reft from the trees, flickering and pursuing each 
 other in the soft air. The swallows that lived in a colony 
 of inverted clay domes under the eaves were darting about, 
 uttering shrill cries, the expression of exuberant joy of Life. 
 Jasper sank into a summer dream. 
 
 He was roused from his reverie by a man coming be- 
 tween him and the pretty garden picture that filled his 
 eyes. He recognised the surgeon, Mr. — or as the country 
 people called him, Doctor — Coyshe. The young medical 
 man had no objection to being thus entitled, but he very 
 emphatically protested against his name being converted 
 into Quash, or even Squash. Coyshe is a very respectable 
 and ancient Devonshire family name, but it is a name that 
 lends itself readily to phonetic degradation, and the young 
 surgeon had to do daily battle to preserve it from being 
 vulgarised. ' Good afternoon, patient ! ' said he cheerily ; 
 ' doing well, thanks to my treatment.' 
 
 Jasper made a suitable reply. 
 
 ' Ah ! I dare say you pull a face at seeing me now, 
 thinking I am paying visits for the sake of my fee, wh< a 
 need for my attendance is past. That, let me tell you, is 
 the way of some doctors ; it is, however, not mine. Lord 
 love you, I knew a case of a man who sent for a doctor 
 because his wife was ill, and was forced to smother her 
 under pillows to cut short the attendance and. bring tho
 
 THE POCKET-BOOK 59 
 
 bill within the compass of his moans. Bless your stars, my 
 man, that you fell into my hands, not into those of old 
 Crooke.' 
 
 ' I am assured,' said Jasper, ' that I am fallen into the 
 best possible hands.' 
 
 ' Who assured yon of that ? ' asked Coyslie sharply ; 
 • Miss Eve or the other ? ' 
 
 ' I am assured by my own experience of your 
 skill.' 
 
 ' Ah ! an ordinary practitioner would have trepanned 
 you ; the whole run of them, myself and myself only ex- 
 cepted, have an itch in their fingers for the saw and the 
 scalpel. There is far too much bleeding, cupping, and 
 calomel used in the profession now — but what are we to 
 say ? The people love to have it so, to see blood and have 
 a squeal for their money. I've had before now to admin- 
 ister a bread pill and give it a Greek name.' 
 
 Mr. Jordan from his study, the girls from the stackyard 
 (or moway, as it is locally called), saw or heard the sur- 
 geon. He was loud in his talk and made himself heard. 
 They came to him into the garden. Eve, with her natural 
 coquetry, retained the crown of roses and her sceptre. 
 
 ' You see,' said Mr. Coyslie, rubbing his hands, ' I have 
 done wonders. This would have been a dead man but for 
 me. Now, sir, look at me,' he said to Jasper ; ' you owe 
 me a life.' 
 
 ' I know very well to whom I owe my life,' answered 
 Jasper, and glanced at Barbara. ' To my hist hour I shall 
 not forget the obligation.' 
 
 ' And do you know why he owes me his life ? ' asked the 
 surgeon of Mr. Jordan. ' Because I let nature alone, and 
 kept old Crooke away. I can tell you the usual practice. 
 The doctor comes and shrugs his shoulders and takes snuff. 
 When he sees a proper impression made, he says, " How- 
 ever ; wo will do our best, only we don't work miracles." 
 He spi inkles his victim with snuff, as if about to embalm 
 the body. If the man dies, the reason is clear. Crooko
 
 60 EVE 
 
 was not sent for in time. If he recovers, Crooke lias 
 wroughl a miracle. That is not my way, as you all know.' 
 lie looked about him complacently. 
 
 ' What will you take, Mr. Coyshe ? ' asked Barbara ; 
 4 some of our haysel ale, or claret? And will you come 
 indoors for refreshment ? ' 
 
 ' Indoors ! dear me, no ! ' said the young doctor ; ' I 
 keep out of the atmosphere impregnated with four or five 
 centuries of dirt as much as I can. If I had my way I 
 would burn down every house with all its contents every 
 ten years, and so we might get rid of half the diseases 
 which ravage the world. I wouldn't live in your old 
 ramshackle Morwell if I were paid ten guineas a day. 
 The atmosphere must be poisoned, charged with particles 
 of dust many centuries old. Under every cupboard, ay, 
 and on top of it, is fluff, and every stir of a gown, every 
 tread of a foot, sets it floating, and the currents bring it 
 to your lungs or pores. What is that dust made up of? 
 Who can tell ? The scrapings of old monks, the scum of 
 Protestant reformers, the detritus of any number of Jor- 
 dans for ages, some of whom have had measles, some 
 scarlet-fever, some small-pox. No, thank you. I'll have 
 my claret in the garden. I can tell you without looking 
 what goes to make up the air in that pestilent old box ; 
 the dog has carried old bones behind the cupboard, the cat 
 has been set a saucer of milk under the chest, which has 
 been forgotten and gone sour. An old stocking which one 
 of the laches was mending was thrust under a sofa cushion, 
 when the front door hell rang, and she had to receive 
 callers— and that also was forgotten.' 
 
 Miss Jordan waxed red and indignant. ' Mr. Coyshe,' 
 she said, ' I cannot hear you say this, it is not true. Our 
 house is perfectly sweet and clean ; there is neither a store 
 of old bones, nor a half-darned stocking, nor any of the 
 other abominations you mentioned about it.' 
 
 1 Your eyes have not seen the world through a micro- 
 scope. Mine have,' answered the unabashed surgeon.
 
 THE FQCKET-BOOK 61 
 
 1 When a ray of sunlight enters your rooms, you can see 
 the whole course of the ray.' 
 
 4 Yes. 
 
 1 Very well, that is because the air is dirty. If it were 
 clean you would be unable to see it. No, thank you. I 
 will have my claret in the garden ; perhaps you would not 
 mind having it sent out to me. The air out of doors is 
 pure compared to that of a house.' 
 
 A little table, wine, glasses and cake were sent out. 
 Barbara and Eve did not reappear. 
 
 Mr. Jordan had a great respect for the young doctor. 
 His self-assurance, his pedantry, his boasting, imposed on 
 the timid and half-cultured mind of the old man. He 
 hoped to get information from the surgeon about tests 
 for metals, to interest him in his pursuits without letting 
 him into his secrets ; he therefore overcame his shyness 
 sufficiently to appear and converse when Mr. Coyshe 
 arrived. 
 
 ' What a very beautiful daughter you have got ! ' said 
 Coyshe ; ' one that is only to be seen in pictures. A man 
 despairs of beholding such loveliness in actual life, and 
 see, here, at the limit of the world, the vision flashes on 
 one ! Not much like you, Squire, not much like her 
 sister ; looks as if she belonged to another breed.' 
 
 Jasper Babb looked round startled at the audacity and 
 rudeness of the surgeon. Mr. Jordan was not offended ; 
 he seemed indeed flattered. He was very proud of Eve. 
 
 ' You are right. My eldest daughter has almost 
 nothing in common with her younger sister — only a half- 
 Bister.' 
 
 • rtaally,' said Coyshe, ' it makes me shiver for the 
 future of that fairy being. I take it for granted she will 
 bo yoked to some county booby of a squire, a Bob Acres. 
 Good Lord! what a prospect! A jewel of gold in a 
 swine's snout, as Solomon says.' 
 
 ' Eve shall never marry one unworthy of her,' said 
 Ignatius Jordan vehemently. She will bt under no eon-
 
 62 EVE 
 
 straint, Slio will bo able to afford to shape her future 
 according to her fancy. She will be com! b fcably off.' 
 
 ' Comfortably off fifty years ago means pinched now, 
 and pinched now means screwed flat fifty years hence. 
 Everything is becoming costly. Living is a luxury only 
 for the w< U-to-do. The rest merely exist under suffer- 
 ance.' 
 
 ' Miss Eve will not be pinched,' answered Mr. Jordan, 
 unconscious that he was being drawn out by the surgeon. 
 ' Seventeen years ago I lent fifteen hundred Is, which 
 
 is to be returned to me on Midsummer Day. To that I 
 can add about five hundred; I have saved something 
 since — not much, for somehow the estate has not answered 
 as it did of old.' 
 
 'You have two daughters.' 
 
 ' Oh, yes, there is Barbara,' said Jordan in a tone of 
 indifference. ' Of course she will have something, but 
 then — she can always manage for herself — with the other 
 it is different.' 
 
 ' Are you ill ? ' asked Coyshe, suddenly, observing that 
 -la -per had turned very pale, and dark under the eyes. 
 ' Is the air too strong for you ? ' 
 
 ' No, let me remain here. The sun does me good.' 
 
 Mr. Jordan was rather glad of this opportunity of 
 publishing the fortune he was going to give his younger 
 daughter. He wished it to be known in the neighbour- 
 hood, that Eve might be esteemed and sought by suitable 
 young men. He often said to himself that lie could die 
 content wi re Eve in a position where she would be happy 
 and admired. 
 
 'When did Miss Eve's mother die?' asked Coyshe 
 abruptly. Mr. Jordan start e L. 
 
 ' Did I say she was dead ? Did I mention her ? ' 
 
 Coyshe mused, put his hand through his hair and 
 ruffled it up ; then folded his arms and threw out his 
 legs. 
 
 ' Now tell me, squire, are you sure of your money ? '
 
 THE POCKET-BOOK 63 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' 
 
 c That money you say you lent seventeen years ago. 
 What are your securities ? ' 
 
 ' The hest. The word of an honourable man.' 
 
 « The word ! ' Mr. Coyshe whistled. ' Words ! What 
 are words ? ' 
 
 ' He offered me a mortgage, but it never came,' said 
 Mr. Jordan. ' Indeed, I never applied for it. I had his 
 word.' 
 
 ' If you sec the shine of that money again, you are 
 lucky.' Then looking at Jasper : ' My patient is upset 
 again — I thought the air was too strong for him. He 
 must be carried in. He is going into a fit.' 
 
 Jasper was leaning back against the wall, with dis- 
 tended eyes, and hands and teeth clenched as with a 
 spasm. 
 
 1 No,' said Jasper faintly, ' I am not in a fit.' 
 
 ' You looked much as if going into an attack of lock- 
 jaw.' 
 
 At that moment Barbara came out, and at once noticed 
 the condition of the convalescent. 
 
 ' Here,' said she, ' lean on me as you did coming out. 
 This has been too much for you. Will you help me, 
 Doctor Coyshe ? ' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Jasper. ' If Miss Jordan will suffer 
 me to rest on her arm, I will return to my room.' 
 
 When he was back in his arm-chair and the little room 
 he had occupied, Barbara looked earnestly in his face and 
 said, ' What lias troubled you ? I am sure something has.' 
 
 'I am very unhappy,' In- an ;wered, ' but you must ask 
 me no questions.' 
 
 Miss Jordan went in quest of her sister. ' Eve,' she 
 said, ' our poor patient is exhausted. Sit in the parlour 
 and play and sing, and give a look into his i£>om now and 
 then. I am busy.' 
 
 The slight disturbance had not altered the bent of Mr. 
 Jordan's thoughts. When Mr. Coyshe rejoined him, wluch
 
 6* EVE 
 
 he did tlio moment lie saw Jasper safe in his room, Mr. 
 Jordan said, ' I cannot believe that I ran any risk with the 
 money. The man to whom I lent it is honourable. Be- 
 sides, I have his note of hand acknowledging the debt ; 
 not that I would use it against him.' 
 
 ' A man's word,' said Coyshe, ' is like india-rubber that 
 can be made into any shape he likes. A word is made up 
 of letters, and he will hold to the letters and permute 
 their order to suit his own convenience, not yours. A 
 man will stick to his word only so long as his word will 
 stick to him. It depends entirely on which side it is 
 licked. Hark ! Is that Miss Eve singing ? What a 
 voice ! Why, if she were trained and on the stage ' 
 
 Mr. Jordan stood up, agitated and angry. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' said Coyshe. ' Docs the sugges- 
 tion offend you ? I merely threw it out in the event of 
 the money lent not turning up.' 
 
 Just then his eyes fell on something that lay under the 
 seat. ' What is that ? Have you dropped a pocket-book ? ' 
 
 A rough large leather pocket-book that was to which 
 he pointed. Mr. Jordan stooped and took it up. Ho 
 examined it attentively and uttered an exclamation of 
 surprise. 
 
 ' Well,' said the surgeon mockingly, ' is the money 
 come, dropped from the clouds at your feet ? ' 
 
 'No,' answered Mr. Jordan, under his breath, 'but 
 this is most extraordinary, most mysterious ! How comes 
 this case here ? It is the very same which I handed over, 
 filled with notes, to that man seventeen years ago ! See ! 
 there are my initials on it ; there on the shield is my 
 crest. How comes it bore ? ' 
 
 ' The question, my dear sir, is not how comes it here? 
 but what does it contain ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing.' 
 
 The surgeon put his bonds in his pockets, screwed up 
 his lips for a whistle, and said, • 1 foretold this, I am 
 always right.'
 
 A NIGHT-WATCH 6 
 
 j 
 
 * The money is not duo till Midsummer- day.' 
 'Nor will come till the Greek kalt&ds. Poor Mis3 
 Eve!' 
 
 CHAPTEK X. 
 
 BARBARA'S PETITION. 
 
 Midsummer-day was come. Mr. Jordan was in suspense 
 and agitation. His pale face was more livid and drawn 
 than usual. Tlio fears inspired by the surgeon had taken 
 hold of him. 
 
 Before the birth of Eve he had been an energetic man, 
 eager to get all he could out of the estate, but for seven- 
 teen years an unaccountable sadness had hung over him, 
 damping his ardour; Lu3 thoughts had been carried away 
 from his land, whither no one knew, though the results 
 were obvious enough. 
 
 With Barbara ho had little in common. She. was 
 eminently practical. He was always in a dream. She 
 was never on an easy footing with her father, she tried to 
 understand him and failed, she feared that his brain was 
 partially disturbed. Perhaps her efforts to make him out 
 annoyed him ; at any rate he was cold towards her, with- 
 out being intentionally unkind. An aver-present restraint 
 was upon both in each other's presence. 
 
 At first, after the disappearance of Eve's mother, things 
 had gone on upon the old lines. Christopher Davy had 
 superintended the farm labours, but as he aged and failed, 
 and Barbara grew to see tho necessity for supervision, she 
 took the management of the farm as well as of the house 
 upon herself. She saw that the men dawdled over their 
 work, and that the condition of tho estate was going back. 
 Tho coppices had not been shredded in winter and tho oak 
 was grown into a tangle. The rending for bark in spring 
 was done un systematically. The hedges became ragged,
 
 56 EVE 
 
 Lli i ploughs out of order, the thistles were not cut periodi- 
 cally and prevented from seeding. There were not men 
 sufficient to do the work that had to be done. She had 
 not the time to attend to the men as well as the maids, to 
 the farmyard as well as the house. She had made up her 
 mind that a proper bailiff must be secured, with authority 
 to employ as many labourers as the estate required. Bar- 
 bara was convinced that her father, with his lost, dreamy 
 head, was incapable of managing their property, even if ho 
 had the desire. Now that the trusty old Davy was ill, 
 and breaking up, she had none to advise her. 
 
 She was roused to anger on Midsummer-day by dis- 
 covering that the hayrick had never been thatched, and 
 that it had been exposed to the rain which had fallen 
 heavily, so that half of it had to bo taken down because 
 soaked, lest it should catch fire or blacken. This was the 
 result of the carelessness of the men. She determined to 
 speak to her father at once. She had good reason for 
 doing so. 
 
 She found him in his study arranging his specimens of 
 mundic and peacock copper. 
 
 ' Has anyone come, asking for me ? ' he said, looking 
 up with fluttering face from his work. 
 
 ' No one, father.' 
 
 ' You startled me, Barbara, coming on me stealthily 
 from behind. What do you want with me? You see I 
 am engaged, and you know I hate to be disturbed.' 
 
 * I have something 1 wish to speak about.' 
 
 ' Well, well, say it and go.' His shaking hands re- 
 sumed their work. 
 
 ' It is the old story, dear papa. I want you to engage 
 a steward. It is impossible for us to go on longer in the 
 Tvay we have. You know how I am kept on the run from 
 inorning to night. I have to look after all your helpless 
 men, as well as my own helpless maids. When I am in 
 the field, there is mischief done in the kitchen ; when I 
 am in the house, the men are smoking and idling on the
 
 BARBARA'S PETITION 67 
 
 farm. Eve cannot help me in seeing to domestic matters, 
 she has not the experience. Everything devolves on mo. 
 I do not grudge doing my utmost, but I have not the time 
 for everything, and I am not ubiquitous.' 
 
 ' No,' said Mr. Jordan, ' Eve cannot undertake any sort 
 of work. That is an understood thing.' 
 
 ' I know it is. If I ask her to be sure and recollect 
 something, she is certain with the best intentions to for- 
 get ; she is a dear beautiful butterfly, not fit to be har- 
 nessed. Her brains are thistledown, her bones cherry 
 stalks.' 
 
 ' Yes, do not crush her spirits with uncongenial work.' 
 
 ' I do not want to. I know as well as yourself that 1 
 must rely on her for nothing. But the result is that I am 
 overtasked. Now — will you credit it ? The beautiful hay 
 that was like green tea is spoiled. Those stupid men did 
 not thatch it. They said they had no reed, and waited to 
 comb some till the rain set in. "When it did pour, they 
 were all in the barn talking and making reed, but at the 
 same time the water was drenching and spoiling the hay. 
 Oh, papa, I feel disposed to cry ! ' 
 
 ' I will speak to them about it,' said Mr. Jordan, with 
 a sigh, not occasioned by the injury to his hay, but because 
 he was disturbed over his specimens. 
 
 ' My dear papa,' said the energetic Barbara, ' I do not 
 wish you to be troubled about these tiresome matters. 
 You are growing old, daily older, and your strength is not 
 gaining. You have other pursuits. You are not heartily 
 interested in the farm. I see your hand tremble when 
 you hold your fork at dinner ; you are becoming thinner 
 every day. I would spare you trouble. It is really neces- 
 sary, I must have it— you must engage a bailiff. I shall 
 break down, and that will be the end, or we shall all go to 
 ruin. The woods are running to waste. There are trees 
 lying about literally rotting. They ought to be sent away 
 to the Devonport dockyard whore they could be sold. Tiii^t 
 spring, when you let the rending, the barbers shaved a 
 
 t- 2
 
 63 F.VE 
 
 whole copse wood, as if shaving :i mau'B chin, instead of 
 leaving the better sticks standing.' 
 
 ' Wo have enough to live on.' 
 
 ' We must do our duty to the land on which wo live. 
 I cannot endure to see waste anywhere. I have only ono 
 head, one pair of eyes, and one pair of hands. 1 cannot 
 think of, see to, and do everything. I lie awake night 
 after night considering what has to he done, and the day 
 is too short for me to do all I have determined on in the 
 night. Whilst that poor gentleman has been ill, 1 have 
 had to think of him in addition to everything else; so 
 some duties have been neglected. That is how, I suppose, 
 the doctor came to guess there was a stocking half-darned 
 linder the sofa cushion. Eve was mending it, she tired 
 and put it away, and of course forgot it. I generally 
 look about for Eve's leavings, and tidy her scraps when she 
 has gone to bed, but I have been too busy. 1 am vexed 
 about that stocking. How those protruding eyes of the 
 doctor managed to see it I cannot think. He was, how- 
 ever, wrong about the saucer of sour milk.' 
 
 Mr. Jordan continued nervously sorting his minerals 
 into little white card boxes. 
 
 ' Well, papa, are you going to do anything ? ' 
 
 •Do— do— what?' 
 
 ' Engage a bailiff. I am sure we shall gain money by 
 working the estate better. The bailiff will pay his cost, 
 and something over;' 
 
 ' You are very eager for money,' said Mr. Jordan 
 sulkily ; ' are yon thinking of getting married, and anxious 
 to have a dower ? ' 
 
 Barbara coloured deeply, hurt and offended. 
 
 ' This is unkind of you, papa; I am thinking rf Eve 
 I think only of her. Yon ought to know that '—the tears 
 came into her eyes. ' Of course Eve will marry some 
 day;' then she laughed, 'no one will ever come for 
 me.' 
 
 ' To be sure,' said Mr. Jordan,
 
 BARBARA'S PETITION 69 
 
 1 1 have been thinking, papa, that Evo ought to be 
 Bent to some very nice lady, or to some very select school, 
 where she might have proper finishing. All she has learnt 
 has been from me, and I have had so much to do, and I 
 have been so unable to be severe with Eve — that— that — 
 I don't think she has learned much except music, to 
 which she takes instinctively as a South Sea islander to 
 water.' 
 
 ' I cannot be parted from Eve. It would rob my sky 
 of its sun. What would this house be with only you — I 
 mean without Eve to brighten it ? ' 
 
 4 If you will think the matter over, father, you will see 
 that it ought to be. "We must consider Eve, and not our- 
 selves. I would not have her, dear heart, anywhere but 
 in the very best school,— hardly a school, a place where 
 only three or four young ladies are taken, and they of the 
 best families. That will cost money, so we must put our 
 shoulders to the wheel, and push the old coach on.' She 
 laid her hands on the back of her father's chair and leaned 
 over his shoulder. She had been standing behind him. 
 ! >id she hope he would kiss her ? If so, her hope was 
 vain. 
 
 ' Do, dear papa, engage an honest, superior sort of 
 man to look after the farm. I will promise to make a 
 great deal of money with my dairy, if he will see to the 
 cows in the fields. Try the experiment, and, trust me, it 
 will answer.' 
 
 ' All in good time.' 
 
 1 No, papa, do not put this off. There is another reason 
 why I speak. Christopher Davy is bedridden. You are 
 sometimes absent, then we girls arc left alone in this great 
 house, all day, and occasionally nights as well. You know 
 there was no one here on that night when the accident 
 happened. There were two men in this house, one, in- 
 deed, insensible. We know nothing of them, who they 
 were, and what they were about. How can you tell that 
 bad characters may not come bore? It is thought that
 
 70 EVE 
 
 you have saved money, and it is known that Morwell is 
 unprotected. You, papa, are so frail, and with your 
 shaking hand a gun would not he dangerous.' 
 
 He started iVoni his chair and upset his specimens. 
 
 ' Do not speak like that,' he said, trembling. 
 
 ' There, I have disturbed you even by alluding to it. 
 If you were to level a gun, and had your finger ' 
 
 He put his hand, a cold, quivering hand, on her lips : 
 'For God's sake — silence ! ' he said. 
 
 She obeyed. She knew how odd her father was, yet 
 his agitation now was so great that it surprised her. It 
 made her more resolute to carry her point. 
 
 'Papa, you are expecting to have about two thousand 
 pounds in the house. Will it be safe ? You have told 
 the doctor, and that man, our patient, heard you. Excuse 
 my saying it, but I think it was not well to mention it 
 before a perfect stranger. You may have told others. Mr. 
 Coyshe is a chatterbox, he may have tallied about it 
 throughout the neighbourhood — the fact may be known to 
 everyone, that to-day you are expecting to have a large 
 sum of money brought you. Well — who is to guard it ? 
 Are there no needy and unscrupulous men in the county 
 who would rob the house, and mn\be silence an old 
 man and two girls who stood in their way to a couple of 
 thousand ] ounds? ' 
 
 ' The sum is large. It must be hidden away,' said Mr. 
 Jordan, uneasily. ' I had not considered the danger' — ho 
 pan si d — ' if it be paid ' 
 
 ' //'. papa ? I thought you were sure of it.' 
 
 'Yes, quite sure; only Mr. Coyshe disturbed me by 
 suggi ing doubts.' 
 
 ' Oh, the doctor!' exclaimed Barbara, shrugging her 
 shouldi 
 
 ' Well, the doctor,' repeated Mr. Jordan, captiously. 
 ' He is a very able man. Why do you turn up your nose 
 at him'? He can see through a stone wall, and under a 
 cushion to where a stocking is hidden, and under a
 
 BARBARA'S PETITION 71 
 
 cupboard to where a saucer of sour milk is thrust away ; 
 and he can see into the human body through the flesh 
 and behind the bones, and can tell you where every nerve 
 and vein is, and what is wrong with each. When things 
 are wrong, then it is like stockings and saucers where they 
 ought not to be in a house.' 
 
 ' He was wrong about the saucer of sour milk, utterly 
 wrong,' persisted Barbara. 
 
 ' I hope and trust the surgeon was wrong in his fore- 
 cast about the money— but my heart fails me ' 
 
 ' He was wrong about the saucer,' said the girl en- 
 couragingly. 
 
 'But he was right about the stocking,' said her father 
 dispiritedly. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 GKANTED I 
 
 As the sun declined, Mr. Jordan became uneasy. He 
 could not remain in his study. He could not rest any- 
 where. The money had not been returned. He had 
 taken out of his strong box Ezekiel Babb's acknowledg- 
 ment and promise of payment, but he knew that it was so 
 much waste -paper to him. He could not or would not 
 proceed against the borrower. Had he not wronged him 
 cruelly by living with his daughter as if she were his wife, 
 without having been legally married to her ? Could he 
 take legal proceedings for the recovery of his money, and 
 so bring all the ugly story to light and publish it to the 
 Avorld ? He had let Mr. Babb have the money to pacify 
 him, and make some amends for the wrong he had done. 
 No ! If Mr. Babb did not voluntarily return the money, 
 Ignatius Jordan foresaw that it was lost to him, lost to 
 Eve, and poor Eve's future was unprovided for. The 
 estate must go to Barbara, that is, the reversion in the 
 tenure of it ; the ready money he had intended for Eve.
 
 73 EVE 
 
 Mr. Jordan felt a bitterness rise in his heart against Bar- 
 bara, whose future was assured, whilst that of Eve was 
 not. He would have liked to leave MorwelHo his younger 
 daughter, but he was nut sure that the Duke would approve 
 of this, and he was quite sure that Eve was incompetent 
 to manage a farm and dairy. 
 
 At the time of which we treat, it was usual for every 
 squire to farm a portion of his own estate, his manor 
 I:,, use was backed with extensive outbuildings for cattle, 
 and his wife and daughters were not above superintending 
 the dairy. Indeed, an ancestress of the author took farm 
 after farm into her own hands as the leases fell in, and afc 
 last farmed the entire parish. She died in 17U5. The 
 J< rdans were not squires, but perpetual tenants under the 
 Dukes of Bedford, and had been received by the country 
 gentry on an equal footing, till Mr. Jordan compromised 
 his character by his union with Eve's mother. The estate 
 of Morwell was a large one for one man to farm ; if the 
 Duke had exacted a large rent, of late years Mr. Jordan 
 would have fallen into arrears, but the Duke had not 
 raised his rent at the last renewal. The Dukes were the 
 most indulgent of landlords. 
 
 Mr. Jordan came into the hall. It was the same as 
 it had been seventeen years before ; the same old clock 
 was there, ticking in the same tone, the same scanty fur- 
 niture of a few chairs, tho same slate floor. Only the 
 cradle was no longer to bo seen. The red light smote into 
 the room just as it had seventeen years before. Tin re 
 against the wall it painted a I Lack cross as it had done 
 seventeen years ago. 
 
 Ignatius Jordan looked up over the great fireplace. 
 
 Above it hung the musket he had been cleaning when 
 
 iel Babb entered. It had not been t.iken down and 
 
 used since that day. Seventeen years! It was an age. 
 
 The little babe that had lain in the cradle was now a 
 
 Litiful marriageable maiden. Time had made its mark 
 upon himself. His back was more bent, La3 hand more
 
 GRANTED/ 73 
 
 ehaky, Lis walk less steady ; a careful, thrifty mau had 
 been converted into an abstracted, half-crazed dreamer. 
 Seventeen years of gnawing care and ceaseless sorrow ! How 
 had he been able to bear it ? Only by the staying wings of 
 love, of love for his little Eve— for her child. Without 
 his Eve, her child, long ago he would have sunk and been 
 swallowed up, the clouds of derangement of intellect would 
 have descended on his brain, or his bodily health would 
 have given way. 
 
 Seventeen years ago, on Midsummer-day, there had 
 stood on the little folding oak table under the window a 
 tumbler full of china roses, which were drooping, and had 
 shed their leaves over the polished, almost black, table 
 top. They had been picked some days before by his wife. 
 Now, in the same place stood a glass, and in it were roses 
 from the same tree, not drooping, but fresh and glistening, 
 placed that morning there by her daughter. His eye 
 sought the clock. At five o'clock, seventeen years ago, 
 Ezekiel Babb had come into that hall through that door- 
 way, and had borrowed his money. The clock told that 
 the time was ten minutes to five. If Mr. Babb did not. 
 appear to the hour, he would abandon the expectation of 
 seeing him. He must make a journey to Buckfastleigh 
 over the moor, a long day's journey, and seek the 
 defaulter, and know the reason why the loan was not 
 repaid. 
 
 He thought of tho pocket-book on the gravel. How 
 came it there ? Who could have brought it ? Mr. Jordan 
 was too fully impressed with belief in the supernatural not 
 to suppose it was dropped at his feet as a warning that his 
 money was gone. 
 
 Mr. Jordan's eyes were fixed on the clock. The works 
 began to whir-r. Then followed tho strokes. One— two 
 —three — four — Five. 
 
 At the last stroke the door of Jasper's sickroom opened, 
 and the convalescent slowly entered the hall and cou- 
 fronted his host.
 
 74 EVE 
 
 The last week had wrought wonders in the man. Ho 
 had rapidly recovered flesh and vigour after his wounds 
 wore healed. 
 
 As he entered, and his eyes met those of Mr. Jordan, 
 the latter felt that a messenger from Ezekicl Babb stood 
 before him, and that his money was not forthcoming. 
 
 ' Well, sir? ' he said. 
 
 ' I am Jasper, the eldest son of Ezckiel Babb, of Owla- 
 comho in Buckfastleigh,' he said. 'My father borrowed 
 money of you this day seventeen years ago, and solemnly 
 swore on this day to repay it.' 
 
 ' Well ? ' 
 
 1 It is not well. I have not got the money. ' 
 
 A moan of disappointment broke from the heart of 
 Ignatius Jordan, then a spasm of rage, such as might seize 
 on a madman, transformed his face ; his eye blazed, and 
 he sprang to his feet and ran towards Jasper. The latter, 
 keeping his eye on him, said firmly, ' Listen to me, Mr. 
 Jordan. Pray sit down again, and I will explain to you 
 why my father has not sent the money.' 
 
 Mr. Jordan hesitated. His face quivered. With his 
 raised hand he would have struck Jasp r, but the com- 
 posure of the latter awed him. The paroxysm passed, 
 and he sank into his chair, and gave way to depression. 
 
 ' My father is a man of honour. He gave you his 
 word, and he intended I" keep it. lie borrowed of you a 
 large sum, and he laid it out in the purchase of some land, 
 lie has been fairly prosperous. He saved money enough 
 to repay the debt, and perhaps more. As the time drew 
 nigh for repayment he took the sum required from the 
 bank in notes, and loci ed them in his bureau. Others 
 knew of this. My father was not discreet: he tal 
 about the repayment, he resented having to make it, com- 
 plained that he would be reduced to great straits with- 
 out it.' 
 
 ' The money was not his, but mine.' 
 
 'I know that,' said Jasper, sorrowfully. 'But my
 
 GRANTED! 75 
 
 father has always been what is termed a close man, has 
 thought much of money, and cannot bear to part with it. 
 I do not say that this justifies, but it explains, his dissatis- 
 faction. He is an old man, and becoming feeble, and 
 clings through force of habit to his money.' 
 
 1 Go on ; nothing can justify him.' 
 
 1 Others knew of his money. One day he was at 
 Totnes, at a great cloth fair. He did not return till the 
 following day. During his absence his bureau was broken 
 open, and the money stolen.' 
 
 ' Was the thief not caught ? Was the money not re- 
 covered? ' ashed Mr. Jordan, trembling with excitement. 
 
 1 The money was in part recovered.' 
 
 4 Where is it ? ' 
 
 • Listen to what follows. You ashed if the — the person 
 who took the money was caught. He was.' 
 
 ' Is ho in prison ? ' 
 
 ' The person who took the money was caught, tried, 
 and sent to jail. When taken, some of the money was 
 found about him ; ho had not spent it all. What remained 
 I was bringing you.' 
 
 ' Give it me.' 
 
 ' I have not got it.' 
 
 4 You have not got it ? * 
 
 ' No, I have lost it.' 
 
 Again did Mr. Jordan start up in a fit of rage. lie 
 ground his teeth, and the sweat broke out in drops on his 
 brow. 
 
 ' I had the money with me when the accident hap- 
 pened, and I was thrown from my horse, and became uncon- 
 scious. It was lost or taken then.' 
 
 1 Who was your companion ? He must have robbed 
 you.' 
 
 4 1 charge no one. I alone am to blame. The money 
 was entrusted to my keeping.' 
 
 • Why did your father give you the money before the 
 appointed day ? '
 
 75 E ! E 
 
 'When my father recovered part of the money, 
 he would no longer keep it i:i his possession, lest be 
 should again lose it ; so he bade me take it to you at 
 once.' 
 
 ' You have spent the money, you have spent it your- 
 self ! ' cried Mr. Jordan wildly. 
 
 ' If I had done this, should 1 have come to you to-day 
 with this confession? I had the money in the pocket-book 
 in notes. The notes were abstracted from the book. As 
 I was so long insensible, it was too late to stop them at 
 the bank. Whoover took them had time to change them 
 all,' 
 
 ' Cursed be the day 1 Lent the money,' moaned Igna- 
 tius Jordan. ' The empty, worthless caso returns, the 
 precious cont< tits are gone. What is the shell without tho 
 kernel? My Eve, my Eve ! ' I'' 1 clasped his hands over 
 his brow. 
 
 ' And now once more hearken to me,' pursued Jasper. 
 ' My father cannot immediately find the money that ho 
 owes }ou. He does not know of this second los !. 1 have 
 not communicated with him since I met with my accident. 
 The blame attaches to me. 1 must do what I can to make 
 amends for my carelessness. I put myself into your hands. 
 To repay you now, my fath< r would have to sell the land 
 he bought. I do not think he could be persuaded to do 
 this, though, perhaps, you might be able to force him to it. 
 However, as you say the money is for your daughter, will 
 you allow it to lie where it is for a while ? I will under- 
 take, should it come to me aft< r my father's death, to sell 
 it or transfer it, so as to make up to IMis.s Eve at the rate 
 of five per cent, on the loan. 1 will do more. If you will 
 consent to this, I will stay here and work for you. I have 
 been trained in the country, and know about a farm. I 
 will act as your foreman, overlooker, or bailiff. I will put 
 my hand to anything. Reckon what my wage would be. 
 lleckon at the end of a year whether I have not earned my ; 
 wage and much more. If you like, I will work for you as
 
 GRANTED! 77 
 
 long as my father lives ; I will serve you now faithfully as 
 no hired bailiff would serve you. My presence here will bo 
 a guarantee to you that I will be true to rny undertaking 
 to repay the whole sum with interest. I can see that this 
 estate needs an active man on it ; and you, sir, arc too 
 advanced in age, and too much given up to scientific pur- 
 suits, to cope with what is required.' 
 
 Those words, 'scientific pursuits,' softened Mr. Jordan. 
 Jasper spoke in good faith ; he had no idea how worthless 
 those pursuits were, how little true science entered into 
 them. He knew that Mr. Jordan made mineraloerieal 
 studies, and he supposed they were well directed. 
 
 'Order me to do what you will,' said Jasper, 'and I 
 will do it, and will double your gains in the year.' 
 
 ' I accept,' said Ignatius Jordan. ' There is no help for 
 it. I must accept or be plundered of all.' 
 
 ' You accept ! let us join hands on the bargain.' 
 
 It was strange ; as once before, seventeen years ago, 
 hands had met in the golden gleam of sun that shot 
 through the window, ratifying a contract, so was it now. 
 The hands clasped in the sunbeam, and the reflected light 
 from their illuminated hands smote up into the faces of the 
 two men, both pale, one with years and care, the other with 
 sickness. 
 
 Mr. Jordan withdrew his hand, clasped both palms 
 over his face and wept. ' Thus it comes,' he said. ' The 
 shadow is on me and on my child. One sorrow follows 
 another.' 
 
 At that moment Barbara and Eve entered from the 
 court. 
 
 ' Eve ! Eve ! ' cried the father excitedly, ' come to me, 
 my angel ! my ill-treated child ! my martyr ! ' He caught her 
 to his heart, put his face on her shoulder, and sobbed. 
 ' My darling, you have had your money stolen, the money 
 put away for you when you were in the cradle.' 
 
 ' Who has stolen it, papa ? ' asked Barbara. 
 
 'Look there!' he cried; 'Jasper Babb was bringing
 
 78 EVE 
 
 me the money, and when he fell from his horse, it was 
 stolen.' 
 
 Neither Barbara nor Eve spoke. 
 
 'Now,' continued Mr. Jordan, 'he has offered himself 
 ns my hind to look after the farm for me, and promises, if 
 I give him time ' 
 
 ' Father, you have refused ! ' interrupted Barbara. 
 
 'On the contrary, I have accepted.' 
 
 * It cannot, it must not be ! ' exclaimed Barbara vehe- 
 mently. 'Father, you do not know what you have 
 done.' 
 
 'This is strange language to lie addressed by a child to 
 a father,' said Mr. Jordan in a tone of irritation. ' Was 
 there ever so unreasonable a girl before ? This morning 
 you pressed me to engage a bailiff, and now that Mr. 
 Jasper Babb lias volunteered, and I have accepted him, you 
 turn round and won't have him.' 
 
 ' No,' she said, with quick-drawn breath, ' I will not. 
 Take anyone but him. I entreat you, papa. If you have 
 any regard for my opinion, let him go. For pity's sake do 
 not allow him to remain here ! ' 
 
 ' I have accepted him,' said her father coldly. ' Pray 
 what weighty reasons have you got to induce me to alter 
 my resolve ? ' 
 
 Miss Jordan stood thinking ; the colour mounted to 
 her forehead, then her brows contracted. 'I have none 
 to give,' she said in a low tone, greatly confused, with her 
 eyes on the ground. Then, in a moment, she recovered 
 her self-possession and looked Jasper full in the face, hut 
 without speaking, steadily, sternly. In fact, her heart was 
 beating so fast, and her breath coming so quick, that she 
 could not speak. 'Mr. Jasper,' she said at length, con- 
 trolling her emotions by a strong effort of will, ' I entreat 
 you— go.' 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 ' I have nursed you ; I have given my nights and days 
 to you. You confessed that I had saved your life. If you
 
 GRANTED ! 79 
 
 have any gratitude in your heart, if you have any respect 
 for the house that has sheltered you— go ! ' 
 
 'Barbara,' said her father, 'you are a perverse girl. 
 He shall not go. I insist on his fulfilling his engagement. 
 If he leaves I shall take legal proceedings against his father 
 to recover the money.' 
 
 ' Do that rather than retain him.' 
 
 ' Miss Jordan,' said Jasper, slowly, and with sadness 
 in his voice, ' it is true that you have saved my life. Your 
 hind hand drew me from the brink of the grave whither I 
 was descending. I thank you with all my heart, but I 
 cannot go from my engagement to your father. Through 
 ray fault the money was lost, and I must make what 
 amends I may for my negligence.' 
 
 1 Go back to your father.' 
 
 ' That I cannot do.' 
 
 She considered with her hand over her lips to hide her 
 
 ation. ' No,' she said, ' I understand that. Of course 
 you cannot go back to your native place and to your home ; 
 but you need not stay here.' Then suddenly, in a burst of 
 passion, she extended her hands to her father, ' Papa ! ' — 
 then to the young man, 'Mr. Jasper! — Papa, send him 
 away ! Mr. Jasper, do not remain ! ' 
 
 The young man was hardly less agitated than herself. 
 He took a couple of steps towards the door. 
 
 ' Stuff and fiddlesticks ! ' shouted Mr. Jordan. ' He 
 shall not go. I forbid him.' 
 
 Jasper turned. ' Miss Barbara,' he said, humbly, 
 •you are labouring under a mistake which I must not 
 explain. Forgive me. I stay.' 
 
 She looked at him with moody anger, and muttered, 
 1 Knowing what you do — that I am not blind— that you 
 should dare to settle here under this honourable roof. It 
 is unjust! it is ungrateful 1 it is wicked! God help us f 
 I lure done what I could.'
 
 8o EVE 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 JASPEBWas installed in Morwell as bailiff ill Spito cf the 
 remonstrances of Barbara. lie was given a room near 
 t!ic gatehouse, and was attended by Mrs. Davy, but he 
 came for his dinner to the table of the Jordans. Barbara 
 had done what she could to prevent his becoming an 
 inmate of the house. She might not tell her father her 
 real reasons for objecting to the arrangement. 
 
 She was rendered more uneasy a day or two after by 
 receiving news that an aunt, a sister of her mother, who 
 lived beyond Dartmoor, was dying, and she was summoned 
 to receive her last sigh. She must leave Morwell, leave 
 her father and sister in the house with a man whom she 
 thoroughly mistrusted. Her only comfort was that Jasper 
 was not sufficiently strong and well to be dangerous. 
 What was he ? Was there any truth in that story he had 
 told her father? She could not believe it, because it 
 would not fit in with what she already knew. What plae • 
 had the convict's garb in that tale ? She turned the nar- 
 rative about in her mind, and rejected it. She was in- 
 clined to disbelieve in Jasper being the son of old Mr. 
 Babb. He had assume d the name and invented the story 
 to deceive her father, and form an excuse for remaining in 
 the house. 
 
 She hardly spoke to Jasper when they met. She wa i 
 cold and haughty, she did not look at him ; and he mado 
 no advances to gain her goodwill. 
 
 When she received the summons to her aunt's death- 
 bed, knowing that she must go, she asked where Mr. Babb 
 was, and, hearing that he was in the barn, vent thither 
 with the letter in her hand. 
 
 He had been examining the horse-turned winnowing
 
 CALLED AWAY Si 
 
 machine, which was out of order. As she came to the 
 door he looked up and removed his hat, making a formal 
 salute. The day was hot ; he had been taking the machine 
 to pieces, and was warm, so he had removed his coat. Tie 
 at once drew it on his back again. 
 
 Barbara had a curt, almost rough, manner at times. 
 She was vexed now, and angry with him, so she spoke 
 shortly, ' I am summoned to Ashburton. That is close to 
 Buckfastleigh, where, you say, you lived, to make my 
 father believe it is your home.' 
 
 ' Yes, Miss Jordan, that is true.' 
 
 'You have not written to your home since you have 
 boon with us. At least — ' she hesitated, and slightly 
 coloured — 'you have sent no letter by our boy. Perhaps 
 you were afraid to have it known where you are. No 
 doubt you were right. It is essential to you that your 
 presence here should not be known to anyone but your 
 father. A letter might bo opened, or let lie about, and so 
 your whereabouts be discovered. Supposing your story to 
 be true, that is how I account for your silence. If it be 
 false ' 
 
 ' It is not false, Miss Jordan.' 
 
 ' I am going to Ashburton, I will assure myself of 
 it there. If it bo false I shall break my promise to you, 
 and tell my father everything. I give you fair warning. 
 If it bo true ' 
 
 ' It is true, dear young lady.' 
 
 ' Do not be afraid of my disclosing your secret, and 
 putting you in peril.' 
 
 ' I am sure you cannot do that,' he said, with a smilo 
 that was sad. 'If you go to Buckfastleigh, Miss Jordan, 
 I shall venture to send word by you to my father where I 
 am, that the money is lost, and what I have undertaken.' 
 
 Barbara tossed her head, and flashed an indignant 
 glance at him out of her brown eyes. 
 
 'I cannot, I will not be a porter of lies.' 
 
 « What lies ? ' 
 
 a
 
 82 EVE 
 
 ' You did not lose the money. Why deceive me ? I 
 know your object in linking here, in the most out-of-the- 
 way nook of England you could find. You think that 
 here you are safe from pursuit. You made up the story 
 to impose on my father, and induce him to engage you. 
 0, you are very honourable ! discharging a debt! — I hate 
 crime, but I hate falsehood even more.' 
 
 ' You are mistaken, Miss Jordan. The story is true.' 
 
 I You have told the whole honest truth ? ' 
 
 I I do not profess to have told the whole truth. What 
 I have told has been true, though I have not told all.' 
 
 ' A pinch of truth is often more false than a bushel 
 of lies. It deceives, the other does not.' 
 
 1 It is true that I lost the money confided to me. If 
 you are going to Ashburton, I ask you, as a matter of kind- 
 ness — I know how kind you can be, alas, and I know also 
 how cruel — to see my father.' 
 
 She laughed haughtily. ' This is a fine proposition. 
 The servant sends the mistress to do his dirty work. I 
 thank you for the honour.' She turned angrily away. 
 
 ' Miss Barbara,' said Jasper, ' you are indeed cruel.' 
 
 ' Am I cruel ? ' She turned and faced him again, with 
 a threntening brow. ' I have reason to be just. Cruel I 
 am not.' 
 
 ' You were all gentleness at one time, when I was ill. 
 Now ' 
 
 ' I will not dispute with you. Do you expect to be fed 
 with a spoon still ? When you were ill I treated you as a 
 patient, not more kindly than I would have treated my 
 deadliest enemy. I acted as duty prompted. There was 
 no one else to take care of you, that was my motive — my 
 only motive.' 
 
 1 When I think of your kindness then, I wish I were 
 sick again.' 
 
 ' A mean and wicked wish. Tired already, I suppose, 
 of doing honest work.' 
 
 ' Mi^s Barbara,' he said, ' pray let me speak.'
 
 CALLED AWAY 83 
 
 • Cruel,' — she recurred to what ho had said before, 
 without listening to his entreaty, ' It is you who are 
 cruel coming here — you, with the ugly stain on your life, 
 coming here to hide it in this innocent household. Would 
 it not be cruel in a man with the plague poison in him to 
 steal into a home of harmless women and children, and 
 give them all the pestilence ? Had I suspected that you 
 intended making Morwell your retreat and skulking den, 
 I would never have passed my promise to keep silence. I 
 would have taken the hateful evidence of what you are in 
 my hand, and gone to the first constable and bid him 
 arrest you in your bed.' 
 
 ' No,' said Jasper, ' you would not have done it. I 
 know you better than you know yourself. Are you lost to 
 all humanity? Surely you feel pity in your gentle bosom, 
 notwithstanding your bitter words.' 
 
 ' No,' she answered, with flushed cheeks and sparkling 
 eyes, ' no, I have pity only for myself, because I was weak 
 enough to take pains to save your worthless life.' 
 
 ' Miss Jordan,' he said, looking sorrowfully at her — 
 and her eyes fell — 'surely I have a right to ask some pity 
 of you. Have you considered what the temptations must 
 be that beset a young man who has been roughly handled 
 at home, maltreated by his father, reared without love — a 
 young man with a soul bounding with hopes, ambition, 
 love of life, with a heart for pleasure, all which are beaten 
 back and trampled down by the man who ought to direct 
 them ? Can you not understand how a lad who has been 
 thwarted in every way, without a mother to soothe him in 
 trouble, and encourage him in good, driven desperate by a 
 father's harshness, may break away and transgress ? Con- 
 sider the case of one who has been taught that everything 
 beautiful — laughter, delight in music, in art, in nature, 
 a merry gambol, a joyous warble — is sinful ; is it not likely 
 that the outlines of right and wrong would be so blurred 
 in his conscience, that he might lapse into crime without 
 criminal intent ? ' 
 
 Q 2
 
 84 EVE 
 
 ' Are y iu i ■ of yourself, or are vou excusing 
 
 another? ' 
 
 ' I am putting a case.' 
 
 Barbara sighed involuntarily. Her own father had 
 ipathetic. He had never been actually severe, 
 he ha i been indifferent. 
 
 'lean see that there were temptations to one so situ- 
 ated tc leave his home,' she answered, 'hut this is not a 
 i c of truancy, but of crime.' 
 
 ' You judge without knowing the circumstances.' 
 
 'Then tell me all, that I may form a more equitable 
 judgment.' 
 
 ' I cannot do that now. You shall be told— later.' 
 
 ' Then I must judge by what I know ' 
 
 ' By what ycu guess,' he said, correcting her. 
 
 ' As you will.' Her eyes were on the ground. A 
 white spar was there. She turned it over with her foot, 
 and turned it again. 
 
 She hesitated what to say. 
 
 ' Should you favour me so far as to visit my father,' 
 said Jasper, ' I beg of you one thing most earnestly. Po 
 not mention the name of my companion — Martin.' 
 
 ' Why not ? ' 
 
 ' He may suspect him of having robbed me. My father 
 is an energetic, resolute man. He might pursue him, and 
 I alone am to blame. Ilosl the money.' 
 
 'Who was that Martin ?' 
 
 ' He told y< a that I was nothing to him.' 
 
 ' Then why do you seek to screen him? ' 
 
 ' Can I say that he took the money ? K my father gets 
 him arrested — I shall be found.' 
 
 Barbara laughed bitterly. 
 
 ' Of course, the innocent must not be brought into sus- 
 picion because he lias ridden an hour alongside of the 
 guilty. No ! I will say n >tlung of Martin.' 
 
 She was still turning ov*r the piece of spar with her 
 foot. It sparkled in the sun.
 
 CALLED AWAY 85 
 
 ' How are you going to Ashburton, Miss Jordan ? ' 
 
 'I ride, and little John Ostler rides with me, conveying 
 my portmanteau.' 
 
 Then she trilled with the spar again. There was some 
 peacock copper on it that glistened with all the colours of 
 the rainbow. Abruptly, at length, she turned away and 
 wont indoors. 
 
 Next morning early she came in her habit to the giiu 
 where the boy who was to accompany her held the horses. 
 She had not seen Jasper that morning, but she knew where 
 be was. He had gone along the lane toward the common 
 to set the men to repair fences and hedges, as the cattle 
 that strayed on the waste-land had broken into the wheat 
 field. 
 
 She rode along the lane in meditative mood. She saw 
 Jasper awaiting her on the down, near an old quarry, the 
 rubble heap from which was now blazing with gorse in full 
 bloom. She drew rein, and said, ' I am going to Ash- 
 burton. I will take your mess;!;;.', not because you asksd 
 me, but because I doubt the truth of your story.' 
 
 ' Very well, Miss Jordan,' he said respectfully ; ' I 
 thank you, whatever your motive may be.' 
 
 ' I expect and desire no thanks,' she answered, and 
 whipped her horse, that started forward. 
 
 'I wish you a favourable journey,' he said. 'Good- 
 bye.' 
 
 She did not turn her head or respond. She was very 
 angry with him. She stooped over her pommel and 
 buckled the strap of the little pocket in the leather for her 
 kerchief. But, before she had ridden far, an intervening 
 gorse bush forced her to bend her horse aside, and then she 
 looked back, without appearing to look, looked back out of 
 her eye-corners. Jasper stood where she had left him, 
 with his hat in his hand.
 
 86 EVE 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MR. BABB AT HOME. 
 
 A lovely July day in the fresh air of Dartmoor, that 
 seems to sparkle as it enters the lungs : fresh, hut given a 
 sharpness of salt : pure, but tinged with the sweetness of 
 heather bloom and the honey of gorse. Human spirits 
 bound in this air. The scenery of Dartmoor, if bare of 
 ; i, is wildly picturesque with granite masses and bold 
 mountain peaks. Barbara could not shake off the anxiety 
 that enveloped her spirits like the haze of a valley till she 
 rose up a long ascent of three miles from the wooded valley 
 of the Tavy to the bald, rock-strewn expanse of Dartmoor. 
 She rode on, attended by her little groom, till she reached 
 Prince's Town, the highest point attained by the road, 
 where, in a desolate plain of bog, but little below the crests 
 of some of the granite tors, stands a prison surrounded by 
 a few mean houses. From Prince's Town Barbara would 
 have a rough moor-path, not a good road, before her ; and, 
 as the horses were exhausted with their long climb, she 
 
 ed at the little inn, and ordered some dinner for herself, 
 andrequired that the boy and the horses should beattendi I 
 10. 
 
 Whilst ham and eggs— nothing else was procurable — 
 were being fried, Barbara walked along the road to the 
 prison, and looked at the gloomy, rugged gate built of un- 
 trimmed granite blocks. The unbroken desolation swept 
 to the very walls of the prison. 1 At that height the wind 
 moans among the rocks and rushes mournfully ; the air is 
 never still. The landlady of the inn came to her. 
 
 ' That is the jail,' she said. ' There was a prisoner 
 broke out not long ago, and he has not yet been caught. 
 
 1 The author has allowed himself a slight anachronism. The 
 prison w I the period of this tale.
 
 MR. BABB AT HOME 87 
 
 How he managed it none can tell. Where he now is no 
 one knows. He may bo still wandering on the moor. 
 Every road from it is watched. Perhaps he may give him- 
 self up, finding escape impossible. If not, he will die of 
 hunger among the rocks.' 
 
 ' What was the crime for which he was here ? ' asked 
 Barbara ; but she spoke with an effort. 
 
 ' He was a bad man ; it was no ordinary wickedness he 
 committed. He robbed his own father.' 
 
 1 His own father ! ' echoed Barbara, starting. 
 
 1 Yes, he robbed him of nigh on two thousand pounds. 
 The father acted sharp, and had him caught before he had 
 spent all the money. The assizes were next week, so it 
 was quick work ; and here he was for a few days, and then 
 — he got away.' 
 
 ' Kobbed his own father ! ' murmured Barbara, and 
 now she thought she saw more clearly than before into a 
 matter that looked blacker the more she saw. 
 
 ' There's a man in yonder who set fire to his house to 
 get the insurance. Folks say his house was but a rum- 
 magy old place. 'Tis a pity. Now, if he had got away it 
 would not have mattered ; but, a rascal who did not re- 
 spect his own father ! — not that I hold with a man prose- 
 cuting his own son. That was hard. Still, if one was to 
 escape, I don't see why the Lord blessed the undertaking 
 of the man who robbed his father, and turned His face 
 away from him who only fired his house to get the 
 insurance.' 
 
 The air ceased to sparkle as Miss Jordan rode the 
 second stage of her journey: the sun was less bright, the 
 fragrance of the gorse less sweet. She did not speak to 
 her young groom the whole way, but rode silently, with 
 compressed lips and moody brow. The case was worse 
 than she had anticipated. Jasper had robbed his father, 
 and all that story of his coming as a messenger from Mr. 
 Babb with the money was false. 
 
 One evening, unattended. Barbara Jordan rode to
 
 88 EVE 
 
 Buckfastleigh, asked for tlio house of Mr. Babb, arid dia 
 
 mounted at the door. The houso was a plain, ugly, square 
 
 modern erection, almost an insult to the beauty of tho 
 
 surroundings. The drive from tho entrance gate was 
 
 grass-grown. There was a stucco porch. The door was 
 
 painted drab, and the paint was blistered, and had flaked 
 
 off. The house also was mottled. It had been painted 
 
 over plaster and cement, and the paint had curled and 
 
 come off in patches. The whole place had an uncared-for 
 
 look. There were no flower beds, no creepers against the 
 
 walls ; the rain-shoots to the roof were choked, and the 
 
 overflowing water had covered the wails where it reached 
 
 with slime, black and green. At the back of tho house 
 
 was a factory, worked by a water-wheel, for cloth, and a 
 
 gravel well-trodden path led from the back door of the 
 
 house to the factory. 
 
 Barbara had descended from her cob to open the gate 
 into the drive ; and she walked up to the front door, lead- 
 ing her horse. There she rang the bell, but had doubts 
 whether tho wire were sound. She waited a long time, 
 and no one responded. She tried the bell again, and then 
 rapped with the handle of her whip against the door. 
 
 Then she saw a face appear at a side window, observe 
 her and withdraw. A moment after, a shuffling tread 
 sounded in the hall, chains and bolts were undone, the 
 door was cautiously opened, and in it stood an old man 
 with white hair, and black beady eyes. 
 
 ' What do you want ? "Who are you ? ' he asked. 
 * Am I speaking to Mr. Babb ? ' 
 1 Yes, you are.' 
 
 ' May I have a few words with yon in private ? ' 
 ' Oh, there is no one in the houso, except my house- 
 keeper, and she is deaf. You can say what you want 
 here.' 
 
 ' Who is there to take my horse ? ' 
 ' You can hold him by the bridle, and talk to me where 
 you stand. There's no occasion for you to come in.'
 
 MR. BABB AT HOME 89 
 
 Barbara saw into the hall ; it was fipcrcd with stone, 
 the Buckfastleigh marble, but unpolished. The walls had 
 been papered with glazed imitation panelling, but tho 
 paper had peeled off, and hung in strips. A chair with 
 wooden seat, that had not been wiped for weeks, a set of 
 coat and hat pegs, some broken, on one a very discoloured 
 great coat and a battered hat. In a corner a bulging green 
 umbrella, the silk detached from the whalebone. 
 
 ' You see,' said the old man grimly, half turning, as 
 he noticed that Barbara's eyes were observing the interior ; 
 ' you see, this is no place for ladies. It is a weaving 
 spider's web, not a gallant's bower.' 
 
 'But ' the girl hesitated, 'what I have to say is 
 
 very particular, and I would not be overheard on any 
 account.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ah ! ' he giggled, ' I'll have no games played with 
 me. I'm no longer susceptible to fascination, and I ain't 
 worth it ; on my sacred word I'm not. I'm very poor, 
 very poor now. You can see it for yourself. Is this houso 
 kept up, and the garden ? " Boos the hall look like a lap of 
 luxury ? I'm too poor to be a catch, so you may go away.' 
 
 Barbara would have laughed had net the nature of 1: r 
 vi«:t been so serious. 
 
 ' I am Miss Jordan,' she said, ' daughter of Mr. Jordan 
 ef Morwell, from whom you borrowed money seventeen 
 years ago.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' he gave a start of surprise. ' Ah, well, 1 have 
 sent back as much as I could spare, borne was stolen. It 
 is not convenient to me after this reverse to find all now.' 
 
 ' My father has received nothing. "What you sent was 
 lost or stolen on the way.' 
 
 The old man's jow fell, and he stared blankly at her. 
 
 ' It is as I say. My father has received nothing.' 
 
 1 1 sent it by my son.' 
 
 4 He has lost it.' 
 
 • It is false. He has stolen it. 
 
 ' What is to be done?'
 
 90 EVE 
 
 ' Oh, that is for your father to decide. When my son 
 robbed me, I locked him up. Now let your father see to it. 
 I have done my duty, my conscience is clear.' 
 
 Barbara looked steadily, with some curiosity, into his 
 face. The face was repulsive. The strongly marked fea- 
 tures which might have been handsome in youth, were ex- 
 aggerated by age. His white hair was matted and un- 
 combed. He had run his fingers through it whilst engaged 
 on his accounts, and had divided it into rat's-tails. His 
 chin and jaws were frouzy with coarse white bristles. In 
 his black eyes was a keen twinkle of avarice and cunning. 
 Old age and the snows of the winter of life soften a harsh 
 face, if there be any love in it ; but in this there was none. 
 If a fire had burnt on the hearth of the old man's heart, 
 not a spark remained alive, the hearth was choked with 
 grey ashes. Barbara traced a resemblance between tho 
 old man and his son. From his father, Jasper had derived 
 his aquiline nose, and the shape of mouth and chin. But 
 the expression of the faces was different. That of Jasper 
 was noble, that of his father mean. The eyes of the son 
 were gentle, those of Mr. Babb hard as pebbles that had 
 been polished. 
 
 As Barbara talked with and observed the old man she 
 recalled what Jasper had said of ill-treatment and lack of 
 love. There was no tenderness to be got out of such a 
 man as that before her. 
 
 'Now look you here,' said Mr. Babb. 'Do you see 
 that stretch of field yonder where the cloth is strained in 
 the sun ? Very well. That cloth is mine. It is woven in 
 my mill yonder. That field was purchased seventeen years 
 ago for my accommodation. I can't repay the money now 
 without selling the factory or the field, and neither is worth 
 a shilling without the other. No — we must all put up with 
 losses. I have mine ; the Lord sends your father his. A 
 wise Providence orders all that. Tell him so. His heai I 
 has been hankering after mammon, and now Heaven has 
 deprived him of it. I've had losses too. I've learned to
 
 MR. BABB AT HOME 91 
 
 bear them. So must he. What is your name ? — I mean 
 your Christian name ? ' 
 
 ' Barbara.' 
 
 1 Oh ! not Eve — dear, no. You don't look as if that 
 were your name.' 
 
 ' Eve is my sister — my half-sister.' 
 
 1 Ah, ha! the elder daughter. And what has become of 
 the little one ? ' 
 
 ' She is well, at home, and beautiful as she is good. 
 She is not at all like me.' 
 
 1 That is a good job — for you. I mean, that you are not 
 like her. Is she lively ? ' 
 
 1 Oh, like a lark, singing, dancing, merry.' 
 
 ' Of course, thoughtless, light, a feather that flies and 
 tosses in the breath.' 
 
 ' To return to the money. It was to have been my 
 sister's.' 
 
 ' Well,' said the old man with a giggle, ' let it so re- 
 main. It was to have been. Now it cannot be. Whoso 
 fault is that '? Not mine. I kept the money for your 
 father. I am a man of my word. When I make a cove- 
 nant I do not break it. But my son — my son ! ' 
 
 ' Your son is now with us.' 
 
 ' You say he has stolen the money. Let your father 
 not spare him. There is no good in being lenient. Bo 
 just. When my son robbed me, I did not spare him. I will 
 not lift a little finger to save Jasper, who now, as you say, 
 has robbed your father. Wait where you are ; I will run 
 in, and write something, which will perhaps satisfy Mr. 
 Jordan ; wait here, you cannot enter, or your horse would 
 run away. What did you give for that cob ? not much. 
 Do you want to sell him ? I don't mind ten pounds. He's 
 not worth more. See how he hangs his off hind leg. That's 
 a blemish that would stand in your way of selling. Would 
 you like to go over the factory? No charge, you can tip 
 the foreman a shilling. No cloth weaving your way, only 
 wool growing ; and — judging from what I saw of your
 
 92 EVE 
 
 father — wool-gathering.' With a cackle the old man slipped 
 
 in and shut the door in Barbara's face. 
 
 Miss Jordan stood patting the neck of her disparaged 
 horse. ' You are not to be parted with, are you, Jock, Lo 
 an old skinflint who would starve you ? ' 
 
 The cob put his nose on her shoulder, and rubbed it. 
 Shu looked round. Everything spoke of sordidness, only 
 the factory seemed cared for, where money was made. 
 None was wasted on the adornment, even on the decencit .;, 
 of life. 
 
 The door opened. Mr. Babb had locked it after him 
 as he went in. He came out with a folded letter in his 
 hand. 
 
 ' Here,' he said, ' give that to your father;' 
 
 'I must tell you, Mr. Babb, that your son Jasper is 
 with us. He professes to have lost the money, Ho met 
 with an accident and was nearly killed. He remains with 
 us, as a sort of steward to my father, for a while, only for 
 a while.' 
 
 ' Let him stay. I don't want him baek, I won't have 
 him back. I dare say, now, it would do him good to have 
 his Bible. I'll give you that to take to him. He may read 
 and come to repentance.' 
 
 'It is possible that there may be other things of his he 
 will want. If you can make them up into a bundle, I will 
 send for them. No,' she said after a pause, ' I will not 
 1 1 nd for them. I will take them myself.' 
 
 ' You will not mind staying there whilst I fetch them?' 
 said Mr. Babb. ' Of course you won't. Y'ou have the 
 horse to hold. If you like to take a look round the garden 
 you may, but there is nothing to see. Visit the mill if you 
 like. You can give twopence to a boy to hold the horse.' 
 Then he slipped in again and relockcd the door. 
 
 Barbara was only detained ten minutes. Mr. Babb 
 came back with a jumble of clothes, a Bible, and a violin, 
 not tied together, but in his arms anyhow. lie threw 
 everything on the doorstep.
 
 MR. BABE AT HOME 93 
 
 ' There,' lie said, ' I will hold the bridle, whilst yon 
 make this into a bundle. I'm not natty with my fingers. ' 
 He took the horse from her. Barbara knelt under, the por- 
 tico and folded Jasper's clothes, and tied all together in on 
 old table cover the father gave for the purpose. ' Take 
 the fiddle,' he said, ' or I'll smash it.' 
 
 She looked up at him gravely, whilst knotting the ends. 
 
 ' Have you a message for your son — of love and for- 
 giveness ? ' 
 
 1 Forgiveness ! it is your father he has robbed. Love 
 There is no love lost between us.' 
 
 ' He is lonely and sad,' said Barbara, not now looking 
 up, but busy with her hands, tightening the knots and 
 intent on the bundle. 'I can see that his heart is ach- 
 ing ; night and day there is a gnawing pain in his breasl . 
 No one loves him, and he seems to me to be a man who 
 craves for love, who might be reclaimed by love.' 
 
 'Don't forget the letter for your father,' said Mr. 
 Babb. 
 
 'What about your son? Have you no message for 
 him?' 
 
 'None. Mind that envelope. What it contains is pre- 
 cious.' 
 
 ' Is it a cheque for fifteen hundred pounds ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, dear me, no ! It is a text of scripture.' 
 
 Then, hastily, Mr. Babb stepped back, shut the door, 
 and bolted and chained it. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A SINE QUA N T CN. 
 
 Bakbaea was on her way homo from Ashburton. She had 
 attended her aunt's funeral, and knew that a little sum of 
 about fifty pounds per annum was hers, left her by her 
 aunt. She was occupied with her thoughts. Was there
 
 94 EVE 
 
 any justification for Jasper? The father was hateful. 
 She could excuse his leaving home ; that was nothing ; 
 such a home must be intolerable to a young man of spirit 
 — but to rob his father was another matter. Barbara could 
 not quite riddle the puzzle out in her mind. It was clear 
 that Mr. Babb had confided the fifteen hundred pounds to 
 Jasper, and that Jasper had made away with them. He 
 had been taken and sent to prison at Prince's Town. 
 Thence he had escaped, and whilst escaping had met with 
 the accident which had brought him to become an inmate 
 of Morwell House. Jasper's story that he had lost tha 
 money was false. He had himself taken it. Barbara could 
 not quite make it out ; she tried to put it from her. What 
 mattered it how the robbery had been committed ? — suffi- 
 cient that the man who took the money was with her 
 father. What had he done with the money ? That no one 
 but himself could tell, and that she would not ask him. 
 
 It was vain crying over spilt milk. Fifteen hundred 
 pounds were gone, and the loss of that money might affect 
 Eve's prospects. Eve was already attracting admiration, 
 but who would take her for her beauty alone ? Eve, Bar- 
 bara said to herself, was a jewel that must be kept in a 
 velvet and morocco case, and must not be put to rough 
 usage. She must have money. She must marry where 
 nothing would he required of her but to look and be — 
 charming. 
 
 It was clear to Barbara that Mr. Coyshewas struck with 
 her sister, and Mr. Coyshe was a promising, pushing man, 
 re to make his way. If a man has a high opinion of him- 
 self he impresses others with belief in him. Mr. Jordan 
 was loud in his praises ; Barbara had sufficient sense to 
 dislike his boasting, but she was influenced by it. Though 
 his manner was not to her taste, she was convinced that 
 Mr. Coyshe was a genius, and a man whose name would 
 be known through England. 
 
 What was to be done ? The only thing she could think 
 of was to insist on her father making over Morwell to Eve
 
 A SINE QUA A'OJV 95 
 
 on his death ; as for herself — she had her fifty pounds, and 
 she could gc as housekeeper to some lady ; the Duchess of 
 Bedford would recommend her. She was was not likely 
 to be thought of by any man with only fifty pounds, and 
 with a plain face. 
 
 When Barbara reached this point she laughed, and 
 then she sighed. She laughed because the idea of her 
 being married was so absurd. She sighed because she 
 was tired. Just then, quite uncalled for and unexpected, 
 the form of Jasper Babb rose up before her mind's eye, as 
 she had last seen him, pale, locking after her, waving his 
 hat. 
 
 She was returning to him without a word from his 
 father, of forgiveness, of encouragement, of love. She was 
 scheming a future for herself and for Eve ; Jasper had no 
 future, only a horrible past, which cast its shadow forward, 
 and took all hope out of the present, and blighted the 
 future. If she could but have brought him a kind message it 
 would have inspired him to redeem his great fault, to per- 
 severe in well-doing. She knew that she would find him 
 watching for her return with a wistful look in his dark full 
 eyes, asking her if she brought him consolation. 
 
 Then she reproached herself because she had left his 
 parting farewell unacknowledged. She had been ungra- 
 cious ; no doubt she had hurt his feelings. 
 
 She had passed through Tavistock, with her groom riding 
 some way behind her, when she heard the sound of a trot- 
 ting horse, and almost immediately a well-known voice 
 called, ' Glad to see your face turned homewards, Miss 
 Jordan.' 
 
 1 Good evening, Mr. Coyshe.' 
 
 ' Our roads run together, to my advantage. What ia 
 that you are carrying ? Can I relieve you ? ' 
 
 1 A violin. The boy is careless, he might let it fall. 
 Besides he is burdened with my valise and a bundle.' 
 
 1 What ? has your aunt bequeathed a violin to you ? ' 
 
 A little colour came into Barbara's cheeks, and she
 
 96 EVE 
 
 answered, ' I am bringing it Lome from over the moor.' 
 She blushed to have to equivocate. 
 
 'I hope you have had something more substantial left 
 you than au old fiddle, 1 said the surgeon. 
 
 ' Thank you, my poor aunt has been good enough to 
 leave me something comfortable, which will enable my 
 dear father to make up to Eve for the sum that has been 
 lost.' 
 
 ' I am glad to hear it,' said Mr. Coyshe. ' Charmed ! ' 
 
 ' By the way,' Barbara began, ' I wanted to say some- 
 thing to you, but I have not had the opportunity. You 
 were quite in the wrong about the saucer of sour milk, 
 though I admit there was a stocking— but how you saw 
 that, passes my comprehension.' 
 
 ' I did not see it, I divined it,' said the young man, with 
 his protruding light eyes staring at her with an odd mis- 
 chievous expression in them. ' It is part of the mysteries 
 of medicine — a faculty akin to inspiration in some doctors, 
 that they seo with their inner eyes what is invisible to tho 
 outer eye. For instance, I can seo right into your heart, 
 and I see there something that looks to me very much like 
 ihe wound I patched up in Mr. Jasper's pate. Whilst Lis 
 lias been healing, yours has been growing worse.' 
 
 Barbara turned cold and shivered. ' For heaven's sake, 
 Mr. Coyshe, do not say such things; you frighten me.' 
 
 lie laughed. 
 
 She remained silent, uneasy and vexed. Presently she 
 said, ' It is not true ; there is nothing the matter with me.' 
 
 ' But the stocking was under the sofa cushion, and you 
 said, Not true, at first. Wait and look.' 
 
 ' Doctor, it is not true at all. That is, I have a sort of 
 trouble or pain, but it is all about Eve. I have been very 
 unhappy about the loss of her money, and that has fretted 
 me greatly.' 
 
 ' I foresaw it would he lost.' 
 
 1 Yes, it is lost, but Eve shall bo no loser.' 
 
 'Look hci-e, Miss Jordan, a beautiful face is like a
 
 A SINE QUA NON 97 
 
 beautiful song, charming in itself, but infinitely better with 
 an accompaniment.' 
 
 1 "What do you mean, Mr. Coyslie ? ' 
 
 ' A sweet girl may have beauty and amiability, but 
 though these may be excellent legs for the matrimonial 
 stool, a third must be added to prevent an upset, and that 
 — metallic' 
 
 Barbara made no reply. The audacity and impudence 
 of the young surgeon took the power to reply from her. 
 
 ' You have not given me that fiddle.' said Coyslie. 
 
 • I am not sure you will carry it carefully,' answered 
 Barbara; nevertheless she resigned it to him. ' When you 
 part from me let the boy have it. I will not ride into Mor- 
 well cumbered with it.' 
 
 ' A doctor,' said Coyslie, ' if ho is to succeed in his pro- 
 fession, must be endowed with instinct as well : s iciencc. 
 A cat docs not know what ails it, but it knows when it is 
 out of sorts ; instinct teaches it to swallow a blade of grass. 
 Instinct with us discovers the di: order, science points out 
 the remedy. I may say without boasting that I am brim- 
 ming with instinct — you have had a specimen or two— and 
 r have passed splendid examinations, so that testifies to my 
 science. Beer Alston cannot retain me long, my proper 
 sphere is London. I understand the Duke has heard of 
 me, and said to someone whom I will not name, that if I 
 come to town ho will introduce me. If once started on the 
 rails I must run to success. Now I want a word with you 
 in confidence, Miss Jordan. That boy is sufficiently in the 
 r, : •;■ not to hear. You will be mum, I trust? ' 
 
 Barbara slightly nodded her assent. 
 
 ' I confess to you that I have been struck with your 
 sister, Mis3 Evo. Who could fail to see her and not be- 
 come a worshipp t ? She is a radiant star ; I have nevei* 
 seen anyone so beautiful, and she is as good as she i.j 
 beautiful.' 
 
 ' Indeed, indeed she is,' said Barbara, earnestly. 
 
 1 Montecuculli said,' continued the surgeon, ' that in
 
 9 8 EVE 
 
 wax three things axe necessary : money; secondly, money; 
 thirdly, money. In love it is the same. We may regret 
 it, but it is undeniable.' 
 
 Barbara did not know what to say. The assurance of 
 the young man imposed on her; she did not like him par- 
 ticularly, but he was superior in culture to most of the 
 young men she knew, who had no ideas beyond hunting 
 and bhooting. 
 
 After a little while of consideration, she said, ' Do you 
 think you would make Eve happy ? ' 
 
 ' I am sure of it. I have all the instincts of the family- 
 man in me. A man may marry a score of times and he 
 father of fifty children, without instinct developing the 
 special features of domesticity. They are born in a man, 
 not acquired. Paicr-familias nascitur, noiifit.' 
 
 ' Have you spoken to my father ? ' 
 
 • No, not yet ; I am only feeling my way. I don't mind 
 telling you what brought me into notice with the Duke. 
 He was ill last autumn when down at Endsleigh for the 
 shooting, and his physician was sent for. I met the doctor 
 at the Bedford Inn at Tavistock; some of us of the faculty 
 had an evening together, and his Grace's condition was 
 discussed, casually of course. I said nothing. We were 
 smoking and thinking rum and water. There was some- 
 thing in his Grace's condition which puzzled his physician, 
 and he clearly did not understand how to treat the case. I 
 knew. I have instinct. Some rum had been spilled on 
 the table ; I dipped the end of my pipe in it, and scribbled 
 a pri ion on the mahogany. 1 saw the eye of the 
 
 doctor on it. I have reason to believe he usi -1 my remedy. 
 It answered, lie is not ungrateful. I say no more. A 
 city set on a hill cannot be hid. Beer Alston is a bushel 
 covering a. light. Wait.' 
 
 ixbara said nothing. She rode on, deep in thought. 
 Tii^ surgeon jogged at her side, his protruding water-blue 
 i\ I peering in all directions. 
 
 ' You think your sifter will not be penniless ? ' he said.
 
 A SINE QUA NON 99 
 
 ' I am certain she will not. Now that my aunt lias 
 provided for me, Eve will have Morwell after my father's 
 death, and I am sure she is welcome to what comes to mo 
 from my aunt till then.' 
 
 ' Halt ! ' exclaimed the surgeon. 
 
 Barbara drew rein simultaneously with Mr. Coyshe. 
 
 ' "Who are you there, watching, following us, skulking 
 behind bushes and hedges ? ' shouted Coyshe. 
 
 ' What is it ? ' asked Miss Jordan, surprised and 
 alarmed. 
 
 The surgeon did not answer, but raised to his shoulder 
 a stick he carried. 
 
 4 Answer ! Who are you? Show yourself, or I fire ! ' 
 
 • Doctor Coyshe,' exclaimed Barbara, ' forbear in pity ! ' 
 
 ' My dear Miss Jordan,' he said in a low tone, ' set your 
 mind at rest. I have only an umbrella stick, of which all 
 the apparatus is blown away except the catch. Who ia 
 there? ' he cried, again presenting his stick. 
 
 ' Once, twice! ' — click went the catch. ' If I call three 
 and fire, your blood be on your own head ! ' 
 
 There issued in response a scream, piercing in its shrill- 
 ness, inhuman in its tone. 
 
 Barbara shuddered, and her horse plunged. 
 
 A mocking burst of laughter ensued, and then forth 
 from the bushes into the road leaped an impish boy, who 
 drew a bow over the catgut of a fiddle under his chin, and 
 ran along before them, laughing, leaping, and evoking un- 
 couth and shrill screams from his instrument. 
 
 ' A pixy,' said the surgeon. ' I knew by instinct one 
 was dodging us. Fortunately I could not lay my hand on 
 a riding whip this morning, and so took my old umbrella 
 stick. Now, farewell. So you think Miss Eve will have 
 Morwell, and the matrimonial stool its golden leg? That 
 is right.' 
 
 h ?■
 
 loo EVE 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AT THE QUAY. 
 
 Ok the day of Barbara's departure Eve attended diligently 
 to the duties of the house, and found that everything was 
 in such order that she was content to helieve that all would 
 go on of its own accord in the old way, without her super- 
 vision, which declined next day, and was pretermitted on 
 the third. 
 
 Jasper did not appear fur mid-day dinner ; he was busy 
 on the old quay. He saw that it must be put to rights. 
 The woods could bo thinned, the coppice shredded for bark, 
 and bark put on a barge at the bottom of the almost pre- 
 cipitous slope, and so sent to the tanyards at Devonport. 
 There was waste of labour in carrying the bark up the hills 
 and then carting it to Beer Ferris, some ten miles. 
 
 No wonder that, as Mr. Jordan complained, the bark 
 was unremunerative. The profit was eaten up by the 
 wasteful transport. It was the same with the timber. 
 There was demand for oak and pine at the dockyards, and 
 any amount was grown in the woods of Morwell. 
 
 So Jasper asked leave to have the quay put to rights, 
 and Mr. Jordan consented. He must supervise proceed- 
 ings himself, so he remained the greater part of the day 
 by the river edge. The ascent to Morwell House was 
 arduous if attempted directly up the steep fall, long if ho 
 went by the zigzag through the wood. It would take him 
 a stiff three-quarters of an hour to reach the house and 
 half-an-hour to return. Accordingly iio asked that his 
 dinner might be sent him. 
 
 On tho third day, to Eve's dismay, she found that she 
 had forgotten to let turn have his food, both that day and 
 the preceding. He had made no remark when he cams
 
 AT THE QUAY 101 
 
 back the day before. Eve's conscience smote her— a con- 
 valescent left for nine or ten hours without food. 
 
 When she recalled her promise to send it him she 
 found that there was no one to send. In shame and self- 
 reproach, she packed a little basket, and resolved to carry 
 it to him. The day was lovely. She put her broad- 
 brimmed straw hat, trimmed with forget-me-not bows, on 
 >.er head, and started on her walk. 
 
 The bank of the Tamar falls from high moorland many 
 hundreds of feet to the water's edge. In some places the 
 rocks rise in sheer precipices with gullies of coppice and 
 heather between them. Elsewhere the fall is less abrupt, 
 and allows trees to grow, and the richness of the soil and 
 the friable nature of the rock allows them to grow to con- 
 siderable dimensions. From Morwell House a long detour 
 through beautiful forest, affording peeps of mountains and 
 water, gave the easiest descent to the quay, but Eve 
 reserved this road for the ascent, and slid merrily down 
 the narrow corkscrew path in the brushwood between the 
 crags, which afforded the quickest way down to the water's 
 edge. 
 
 'Oli, Mr. Jasper!' she exclaimed, 'I have sinned, 
 through my forget fulness ; but see, to make amends, I 
 have brought you a little bottle of papa's Burgundy and a 
 wee pot of red currant jelly for the cold mutton.' 
 
 ' And you have come yourself to overwhelm me with a 
 sense of gratitude.' 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Jasper, I am so ashamed of my naughtiness. 
 I assure you I nearly cried. Bab -I mean Barbara- 
 would never have forgotten. She remembers everything. 
 Her head is a perfect store-closet, where all things are in 
 place and measured and weighed and on their proper 
 shelves. You had no dinner yesterday.' 
 
 ' To-day's is a banquet that makes up for all defi- 
 ciencies.' 
 
 Eve liked Jasper; she had few to converse with, very 
 few acquaintances, no friends, and she was delighted to bo
 
 iCr? tVE 
 
 able to Lave a chat with anyone, espi cially if that person 
 flattered her — and who did not? Everyone naturally 
 offered incense before her ; she almost demanded it as a 
 right. The Tamar formed a little bay under a wall of 
 rock. A few ruins marked the site of the storehouses and 
 boatsheds of the abhots. The, sun glittered on the water, 
 forming of it a blazing mirror, and the dancing light was 
 reflected hack by the flower- wreathed rocks. 
 
 ' 'Where are the men ? ' asked Eve. 
 
 ' Gone into the wood to fell pome pines. We must 
 drive piles into the bed of the river, and lay beams on 
 them for a basement.' 
 
 'Oh,' said Eve listlessly, 'I don't understand about 
 basements and all that.' She seated herself on a log. 
 ' How pleasant it is here with the dicker of the water in 
 one's face and eyes, and a sense of being without shadow ! 
 Mr. Jasper, do you believe in pixies ? ' 
 
 ' What do you mean, Miss ? ' 
 
 ' The little imps who live in the mines and on the 
 moors, and play mischievous tricks on mortals. They 
 have the nature of spirits, and yet they have human 
 shapes, and are like old men or boys. They watch trea- 
 sures and veins of ore, and when mortals approach the 
 metal, they decoy the trespassers away.' 
 
 ' Like the lapwing that pretends to be wounded, and 
 so hues you from its precious eggs. Do you believe in 
 pixies? ' 
 
 Eve laughed and shook her pretty head. ' I think so, 
 Mr. Jasper, for I have seen one.' 
 
 ' What was he like?' 
 
 1 1 do not know, I only caught glimpses of him. Do 
 not laugh satirically. I am serious. I did see something, 
 but I don't know exactly what I saw.' 
 
 ' That is not a very convincing reason for the existence 
 of pixies.' 
 
 Eve drew her little feet together, and folded her 
 arms in her lap, and smiled, and tossed her head. She
 
 AT THE QUAY 103 
 
 had taken off her hat, and tho sun glorified her shining 
 head. 
 
 Jasper looked admiringly at her. 
 
 ' Are you not afraid of a sunstroke, Miss Eve ? ' 
 
 ' dear no ! The sun cannot harm me. I love him 
 so passionately. Mr. Jasper ! I wish sometimes I 
 lived far away in another country where there are no wet 
 days and grey skies and muggy atmospheres, and where 
 the hedges do not drip, and the lanes do not stand ankle 
 deep in mud, and the old walls exude moisture indoors, 
 and one's pretty shoes do not go mouldy if not wiped over 
 daily. I should like to be in a land like Italy, where all 
 the people sing and dance and keep holiday, and the bells 
 in the towers are ever ringing, and the lads have bunches 
 of gold and silver flowers in their hats, and the girls have 
 scarlet skirts, and the village musicians sit in a cart 
 adorned with birch branches and ribands and roses, and 
 the trumpets go tu-tu ! and the drums bung-bung ! — I 
 have read about it, and cried for vexation that I was not 
 there.' 
 
 1 But the pixy ? ' 
 
 ' I would banish all pixies and black Copplestones and 
 Whish hounds ; they belong to rocks and moors and 
 darkness and storm. I hate gloom and isolation.' 
 
 ' You are happy at Morwell, Miss Eve. One has but 
 to look in your face and see it. Not a crabbed line of care, 
 not the track of a tear, all smoothness and smiles.' 
 
 The girl twinkled with pleasure, and said, ' That is 
 because we are in midsummer ; wait till win tor and see 
 what becomes of me. Then I am sad enough. We are 
 shut in for five months — six months — seven almost, by 
 mud and water. 0, how the winds howl ! How the trees 
 toss and roar ! How the rain patters ! That is not plea- 
 sant. I wish, I do wish, I were a squirrel; then I would 
 coil myself in a corner lined with moss, and crack nut in 
 a doze till the sun came again and woke mo up with the 
 flowers. Then I would throw out all my cracked nut-
 
 io[ EVE 
 
 Bhella with both paws, and leap to the foot of a tree, run 
 up it, and skip from branch to branch, and swing in the 
 summer sunshine on the topmost twig. 0, Mr. Jasper, 
 how much wiser than wo the swallows are! I would 
 rather be a swallow than a squirrel, and sail away when I 
 felt the first frost to the land of eternal summer, into the 
 blazing eye of the sun.' 
 
 1 But as von have no wings ' 
 
 ' I pit and mope and talk to Barbara about cows and 
 cabbages, and to father about any nonsense that comes 
 into my head.' 
 
 ' As yet you have given me no description of the pixy-' 
 
 • How c,n\ I, when I scarce saw him? I will tell you 
 exactly what happened, if you will not curl up the corner 
 of your lips, as though mocking me. That papa never 
 does. I tell him all the rhodomontade I can, and he 
 listens gravely, and frightens and abashes me sometimes 
 by swallowing it whole.' 
 
 ' Where did you see, or not see, the pixy ? ' 
 
 'On my way to you. I heard something stirring i/i 
 the wood, and I half saw what I took to be a boy, or a 
 little man the size of a boy. When I stood still, ho stood ; 
 when I moved, I fancied he moved. I heard the crackle 
 of sticks and the stir of the bushes. I am cure of nothing.' 
 
 ■ Were you frightened ? ' 
 
 ' No ; puzzled, not frightened. If this had occurred at 
 
 lit, it would have been different. I thought it might 
 have been a red-deer; they are here sometimes, strayed 
 from Exmoor, and have such pretty heads and soft eyes ; 
 but this wa J fancied once I saw a queer little face 
 
 pi ering at me from behind a pine tree. I uttered a feeble 
 cry and ran on.' 
 
 ' I know e: actly what it was,' said Jasper, with a grave 
 smile. ' There i i a pixy lives in the Raven Rock ; he has 
 
 oithy far down in the heart of the cliff, and there he 
 works all winter at a vein of pure gold, hammering and 
 turning the golden cups and marsh marigolds with which
 
 AT THE QUAY 105 
 
 to strew the pastures and watercourses in spring. But it 
 is dull for the pixy sitting alone without light ; he has no 
 one to love and care for him, and, though the gold glows 
 in his forge, his little heart is cold. He has been dream- 
 ing all winter of a sweet fairy he saw last summer wearing 
 a crown of marigold, wading in cuckoo flowers, and now 
 he has come forth to capture that fairy and draw her down 
 into his stony palace.' 
 
 ' To waste her days,' laughed Eve, ' in sighing for the 
 sun, whilst her roses wither and her eyes grow dim, away 
 from the twitter of the birds and the scent of the gorse. 
 He shan't have me.' Then, after a pause, during which 
 she gathered some marigolds and put them into her hat, 
 she said, half seriously, half jestingly, ' Do you believe in 
 pixies ? ' 
 
 ' You must not ash me. I have seen but one fairy in 
 all my life, and she now sits before me.' 
 
 ' Mr. Jasper,' said Eve, with a dimple in her cheek, in 
 recognition of the compliment, — ' Mr. Jasper, do you know 
 my mother is a mystery to me as much as pixies and 
 fairies and white ladies? ' 
 
 ' Xo, I was not aware of that.' 
 
 4 She was called, like me, Eve.' 
 
 ' 1 had a sister of that name who is dead, and my 
 mother's name was Eve. 8he is dead.' 
 
 ' I did not think the name was so common,' said the 
 girl. ' I fancied we were the only two Eves that ever 
 were. I do not know what my mother's other name was. 
 Is not that extraordinary ? ' 
 
 Jasper Babb made no reply. 
 
 ' I have been reading " Undine." Have you read that 
 story? 0, it has made me so excited. The writer says- 
 that it was founded on what he read in an old author, anc 
 that author, Paracelsus, is one papa believes in. So, 1 
 suppose, there is some truth in the tale. The story of my 
 mother is quite like that of Undine. One night my father 
 heard a cry on the moor, and he went to the place, and
 
 io6 EVE 
 
 found my mother ;ill alone. She was with him for a year 
 and a day, and would have stayed longer if my father could 
 have refrained from asking her name. When he did that 
 she was forced to leave him. She was never seen again.' 
 
 ' Miss Eve, this cannot he true.' 
 
 ' I do not know. That is what old Betsy Davy told 
 me. Papa never speaks of her. He has heen an altered 
 man since she left him. He put up the stone cross on the 
 moor at the spot where he found her. I like to fancy 
 there was something mysterious in her. I can't ask papa, 
 and Bah was — I mean Barbara — was too young at the 
 time to remember anything about it.' 
 
 ' This is very strange.' 
 
 ' Betsy Davy says that my father was not properly 
 married to her, because he could not get a priest to per- 
 form the ceremony without knowing what she was.' 
 
 ' My dear Miss Eve, instead of listening to the cock- 
 and-bull stories ' 
 
 ' Mr. Jasper 1 How can you — how can you use such 
 an expression ? The story is very pretty and romantic, 
 and not at all like things of this century. I dare say 
 there is some truth in it.' 
 
 ' I am far from any intention of offending you, dear 
 young lady ; but I venture to offer you a piece of advice. 
 Do not listen to idle tales ; do not encourage people of a 
 lower class to speak to you about your mother ; ask your 
 father what you want to know, he will tell you ; and take 
 my word for it, romance there always must be in love, but 
 there will be nothing of what you imagine, with a fancy 
 set on fire by " Undine." ' 
 
 Her volatile mind had flown elsewhere. 
 
 ' Mr. Jasper,' she said, ' have you ever been to a 
 theatre ? ' 
 
 ■ Yes.' 
 
 1 0, I should like it above everything else. I dream of 
 it. We have Inchl aid's "British Theatre " in the library, 
 and it is my dearest reading. Barbara likes a cookery
 
 AT THE QUAY 107 
 
 book or a book on farming; I cannot abide them. Do 
 you know what Mr. Coyshe said the other day when I was 
 rattling on before him and papa ? He said I had missed 
 my vocation, and ought to have been on the stage. What 
 do you think ? ' 
 
 'I think a loving and merciful Providence has done 
 best to put such a precious treasure here where it can 
 best be preserved.' 
 
 ' I don't agree with you at all,' said Eve, standing up. 
 'I think Mr. Coyshe showed great sense. Anyhow, I 
 should like to see a theatre — 0, above everything in the 
 world! Papa thinks of Rome or the Holy Land ; but I 
 say— a theatre. I can't help it ; I think it, and must say 
 it. Good-bye ! I have things my sister left that I must 
 attend to. I wish she were back. Oh, Mr. Jasper, do 
 not you ? ' 
 
 ' Everyone will be pleased to welcome her home.' 
 
 ' Because I have let everything go to sixes and sevens, 
 eh ? ' 
 
 1 For her own sake.' 
 
 ' Well, I do miss her dreadfully, do not you ? ' 
 
 He did not answer. She cast him another good-bye, 
 and danced off into the wood, swinging her hat by the blue 
 ribands. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 WATT. 
 
 The air under the pines was balmy. The hot July sun 
 brought out their resinous fragrance. Gleams of lire fell 
 through the boughs and dappled the soil at intervals, and 
 on these sun-flakes numerous i'ritillary butterflies with 
 silver under-wings were fluttering, and countless flies were 
 humming. The pines grew only at the bottom of the 
 crags, and here and there in patches on the slopes. The
 
 10S EVE 
 
 woods were coinposi .1 for the most part of oak, now in its 
 richest, fullest foliage, the golden hue of early spring 
 changing to the duller green of summer. Beech also 
 abounded with their clean stems, and the soil beneath 
 them bare of weed, and horn and there a feathery birch 
 with erect silver stem straggled up in the overgrowth to 
 tbo light. The wood was full of foxgloves, spires of pink 
 dappled bells, and of purple columbine. "Wild roses grow 
 wherever a rock allowed them to wreath in sunshine and 
 burst into abundant bloom over its face. Eve carried her 
 straw bat on her aim, hung by its blue ribands. She 
 needed its shelter in the wood no more than in her father's 
 hall. 
 
 She came to a brook, dribbling and tinkling on its way 
 through moss and over stone. The path was fringed with 
 blazing marigolds. Eve had already picked some, she now 
 halted, and brimmed the extemporised basket with more of 
 the golden flowers. 
 
 The gloom, the fragrant air, the flicker of colour made 
 her think of the convent chapel at Lanherne, whither she 
 had been sent for her education, but whence, having pined 
 under the restraint, she had been speedily "removed. As 
 she walked she swung her hat like a censer. From it rose 
 the fresh odour of flowers, and from it dropped now and 
 then a marigold like a burning cinder. Scarce thinking 
 what she did, Eve assumed the slow and measured pare of 
 a religious procession, as she had seen one at Lanherne, 
 still swinging her hat, and letting the (lowers fall from it 
 whilst Bhe chanted meaningless words to a sacred strain. 
 Then she caught her straw hat to her, and holding it be- 
 fore In r in her left arm, advanced at a quicker pace, still 
 singing. Now she dipped her right hand in the crown and 
 strewed the blossoms to left and right, as did the little 
 girls in the Corpus Christi procession round the convent 
 grounds at Lanherne. Her song quickened and brightened, 
 and changed its character as her flighty thoughts shifted 
 to other topics, and her changeful mood assumed another
 
 WA TT iog 
 
 complexion. Her tune became that of the duet La ci darcm 
 la viano, in ' Don Giovanni,' which she had often sung 
 with her sister. She sang louder and more joyously, and 
 her feet moved in rhythm to this song, as they had to the 
 ecclesiastical chant ; her eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed. 
 
 It seemed to her that a delicate echo accompanied her 
 —very soft and spiritual, now in snatches, then low, roll- 
 ing, long-drawn-out. She stopped and listened, then went 
 on again. What she heard was the echo from the rocks 
 and tree boles. 
 
 But presently the road became steeper, and she could 
 no longer spare breath for her song ; now the sacred chant 
 was quite forgotten, but the sweet air of Mozart clung to 
 her memory, as the scent of pot-pourri to a parlour, and 
 there it would linger the rest of the day. 
 
 As she walked on she was in a dream. What must it 
 be to hear these songs accompanied by instruments, and 
 with light and scenery, and acting on the stage? Oh, that 
 she could for once in her life have the supreme felicity of 
 ; eeing a real play! 
 
 Suddenly a flash of vivid golden light broke before her, 
 the trees parted, and she stood on the Raven Kock, a preci- 
 pice that shoots high above the Tamar and commands a wide 
 prospect over Cornwall — Hingston Hill, where Athelstan 
 fought and beat the Cornish in the last stand the Britons 
 made, and Kitt Hill, a dome of moorclad mountain. As 
 she stepped forth on the rock to enjoy the light and view 
 and air, there rushed out of the oak and dog-wood bushes 
 a weird boy, who capered and danced, brandished a fiddle, 
 clapped it under his chin, and still dancing, played La ci 
 darcm fast, faster, till his little arms went faster than Eve 
 could see. 
 
 The girl stood still, petrified with terror. Here was the 
 I'ixy of the Raven Kock Jasper had spoken of. The 
 malicious boy saw and revelled in her fear, and gambolled 
 round her, grimacing and still fiddling till his tune led up 
 to and finished in a shriek,
 
 no EVE 
 
 'There, there,' said he, at length, lowering the violin 
 and how ; ' how I have scared you, Eve ! ' 
 
 Eve trembled in every limh, and was too alarmed to 
 speak. The scenery, the rock, the hoy, swam in a hlue 
 haze hefore her eyes. 
 
 I There, Eve, don't he frightened. You led me on with 
 your singing. I followed in your flowery traces. Dcn't 
 you know me ? ' 
 
 Eve shook her head. She could not speak. 
 
 ' You have seen me. You saw me that night when I 
 came riding over your downs at the hack of Martin, when 
 poor Jasper fell — you remember me. I smashed your 
 rattle-trap gig. What apiece of good luck it was that 
 Jasper's horse went down and not ours. I might have 
 broken my fiddle. I'd rather break a leg, especially that 
 of another person.' 
 
 Eve had not thought of the boy since that eventful 
 night. Indeed, she had seen little of him then. 
 
 I I remember,' she said, ' there was a boy.' 
 
 ' Myself. Watt is my name, or in full, Walter. If you 
 doubt my humanity touch my hand ; feel, it is warm.* 
 He grasped Eve and drew her out on the rocky plat- 
 form. 
 
 ' Sit down, Eve. 1 know you better than you know 
 me. I have heard Martin speak of you. That is how I 
 know about you. Look me in the face.' 
 
 Eve raised her eyes to his. The boy had a strange 
 countenance. The hair was short-cropped and black, the 
 skin olive. He had protruding and large ears, and very 
 black keen eyes. 
 
 ' What do you think is my age ? ' asked the boy. ' I 
 am nineteen. I am an ape. I shall never grow into a 
 man.' lie began again to slop and make grimaces. Eve 
 shrank away in alarm. 
 
 ' There ! Put your fears aside, and be reasonable,' said 
 Watt, coming to a rest. ' Jasper is below, munching his 
 dinner. I have seen him. Ho would not eat whilst you
 
 WATT in 
 
 were by. He did not suspect I was lying on the rock 
 overhead in the heath, peering down on you both whilst 
 you were talking. I can skip about, I can scramble any- 
 where, I can almost fly. I do not wish Jasper to know I 
 am here. No one must know but yourself, for I have come 
 here on an errand to you.' 
 
 ' To me ! ' echoed Eve, hardly recovered from her 
 terror. 
 
 ' I am come from Martin. You remember Martin ? 
 Oh ! there are not many men like Martin. He is a king 
 of men. Imagine an old town, with ancient houses and a 
 church tower behind, and the moon shining on it, and in 
 the moonlight Martin in velvet, with a hat in which is a 
 white feather, and his violin, under a window, thinking 
 you are there, and singing Deh, vicni alia finastra. Do 
 you know the tune ? Listen.' The boy took his fiddle, 
 and touching the strings with his fingers, as though play- 
 ing a mandolin, he sang that sweet minstrel song. 
 
 Eve's blue eyes opened- wonderingly, this was all so 
 strange and incomprehensible to her. 
 
 ' See here, Miss Zerlina, you were singing La ci darsm 
 just now, try it with me. I can take Giovanni's part and 
 you that of Zerlina.' 
 
 ' I cannot. I cannot, indeed.' 
 
 ' You shall. I shall stand between you and the wood. 
 You cannot escape over the rock, you would be dashed to 
 pieces. I will begin.' 
 
 Suddenly a loud voice interrupted him as he began to 
 play—' Watt ! ' 
 
 Standing under the shadow of the oaks, with one foot 
 on tbe rocky platform, was Jasper. 
 
 ' Watt, how came you here ? ' 
 
 The boy lowered his violin and stood for a moment 
 Bpeechless. 
 
 1 Miss Eve,' said Jasper, ' please go home. After all, 
 you have encountered t\\o pixy, and that a malicious and 
 dangerous imp. Stand aside, Watt.'
 
 H2 EVE 
 
 The boy did not venture to resist. He stood back near 
 the edge of the rock and allowed Eve to pass him. 
 
 When she was quito gone, Jasper said gravely to the 
 boy, ' What has brought you here? ' 
 
 ' That is a pretty question to ask me, Jasper. We Left 
 you here, broken ami senseless, and naturally Martin and 
 I want to know what condition you are in. How could Ave 
 nil whether you were alive or dead ? You know very well 
 that Martin could not come, so I have run here to obtain 
 information.' 
 
 'I am well,' answered Jasper, 'you may tell Martin, 
 everywhere hut here,' he laid his hand on his heart. 
 
 ' With such a pretty girl near I do not wonder,' laughed 
 the boy. ' I shall tell poor Martin of the visits paid you ;:t 
 the water's edge.' 
 
 'That will do,' said Jasper; 'this joking offends me. 
 Teh" Martin I am here, but with my heart aching for 
 him.' 
 
 'No occasion for that, Jasper. Not a cricket in the 
 grass is lighter of spirit than he.' 
 
 ' J dare say,' said the elder, 'he does not feel matters 
 acutely. Tell him the money must he restored. Here J 
 stay as a pledge that the debt shall be paid. Tell him 
 that I insist on his restoring the money.' 
 
 ' Christmas is coming, and after that Easter, and then, 
 all in good time, < Shristmas again ; but money once passed, 
 returns no more.' 
 
 ' I expect Martin to restore what he took. He is good 
 at heart, but inconsiderate 1 know Martin better than 
 you. You are his bad angel. He loves me and is generous, 
 lie knows what 1 have done for him, and when I tell him 
 that I must have the money back he will return it if he 
 can.' 
 
 ' If ho can ! ' repeated the boy derisively. 'It is well 
 you have thrown in that proviso. I once tossed my cap 
 into the Dart and ran two miles along the bank after it. I 
 Ba \ i ( for two miles bobbing on the ripples, but at last it
 
 WATT !M 
 
 went over the weir above Totnes and disappeared. I be- 
 lieve that cap was fished up at Dartmouth and is now worn 
 by the mayor's son. It is so with money. Once let it out 
 of your hands and it avails nothing to run after it. It 
 disappears and comes up elsewhere to profit othei'3.' 
 
 ' Where is Martin now ? ' 
 
 ' Anywhere and everywhere.' 
 
 4 He is not in this county, I trust.' 
 
 4 Did you never hear of the old lady who lost the store 
 closet key and hunted everywhere except in her own 
 pocket ? What is under your nose is overlooked.' 
 
 ' Go back to Martin. Tell him, as he values his safety 
 and my peace of mind, to keep out of the country, certainly 
 out of the county. Tell him to take to some honest work 
 and stick to it, and to begin his repentance by ' 
 
 ' There ! if I carry a preachment away with me I shall 
 never reach Martin. I had a surfeit of this in the olden 
 days, Jasper. I know a sailor lad who has been fed on 
 salt junk at sea till if you put but as much as will sit on 
 the end of your knife under his nose when he is on land 
 he will upset the table. It is the same with Martin and 
 me. No sermons for us, Jasper. So — see, I am off at the 
 first smell of a text.' 
 
 He darted into the wood and disappeared, singing at 
 the top of liis voice ' Life let us cherish.' 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 FORGET-ME-NOT I 
 
 That night Eve could not sleep. She thought of her 
 wonderful adventure. Who was that strange boy ? And 
 who was Martin ? And, what was the link between the a 
 two and Jasper ? 
 
 Towards morning, when she ought to have been stir- 
 ring, rhe fell asleep, and laughed in her dreams. She 
 
 I
 
 H4 EVE 
 
 woke with the sun shining in on her, and her father stand* 
 
 ing by her bed, watching her. 
 
 After the visions in which she had been steeped full cf 
 fair forms and brilliant colours, it was a shock to her to 
 unclose her eyes on the haggard face of her father, with 
 sunken eyes. 
 
 ' What is it, papa ? ' 
 
 ' My dear, it is ten o'clock. I have waited for my 
 breakfast. The tea is cold, the toast has lost its crispm 
 and the eggs arc like tho tea — cold.' 
 
 ' papa ! ' she said sorrowfully, sitting up in bed ; ' I 
 have overslept myself. But, you will not begrudge me tho 
 lovely dreams I have had. Papa ! I saw a pixy yesterday.' 
 
 ' Where, child ? ' 
 
 ' On the haven Hock.' 
 
 lie shut his eyes, and put his bond over his mouth. 
 Then he heaved a deep sigh, said nothing, turned, and 
 went out of the rot m. 
 
 Eve was the idol of her father's heart. He spoiled her, 
 by allowing her her own way in everything, by relieving 
 her of every duty, and heaping all the responsibilities on 
 the shoulders of his eldest daughter. 
 
 Eve was so full of love and gaiety, that it was im- 
 possible to be angry with her when she made provoking 
 akes ; she was so penitent, so pretty in her apologies, 
 and so sincere in her purpose of amendment. 
 
 Eve was warmly attached to her father. She had an 
 late nature, but none of her feelings were deep. 
 Her rippling conv r ation, her buoyant spirits, enlivened 
 the prevailing gloom of Mr. Jordan. His sadness did not 
 depress her. Indeed, she hardly noticed it. Hers was net, 
 a sympathetic nature. She exacted the sympathy of oth< i -, 
 but gave nothing more in return than prattle and laughter. 
 
 She danced down the stairs when dressed, without any 
 regret for having kept her father waiting. He would eat a 
 better breakfast for a little delay, she said to herself, and 
 satisfied her conscience.
 
 FORGET-ME-NO T! 1 1 \ 
 
 She canio into the breakfasfc-roorn in a white muslin 
 dress, covered with little blue sprigs, and with a blue 
 riband in her golden hair. The lovely roses of her com- 
 plexion, the sparkling eyes, the dimple in her checks, the 
 air of perfect content with herself, and with all the world, 
 disarmed what little vexation hung in her father's mood. 
 
 ' Do you think Bab will be homo to-day ? ' she asked, 
 seating herself at the tea-tray without a word of apology 
 for the lateness of her appearance. 
 
 ' I do not know what her movements are.' 
 
 ' I hope she will. I want her home.' 
 
 ' Yes, she must return, to relieve you of your duties.' 
 
 ' I am sure the animals want her home. The pigeons 
 find I am not regular in throwing them barley, and I 
 sometimes forget the bread-crumbs after a meal. The 
 little black heifer always runs along the paddock when 
 Bab goes by, and sho is indifferent to me. She lows when 
 I appear, as much as to say, Where is Miss Barbara '.' 
 Then the cat has not been himself for some days, and the 
 little horse is in the damps. Do you think brute beasts 
 have souls ? ' 
 
 ' I do not know.' Then after a pause, ' What was that 
 you said about a pixy ? ' 
 
 ' papa ! it was a dream.' She coloured. Something 
 rose in her heart to check her from confiding to him what 
 in her thoughtless freedom she was prepared to tell on i ; i 
 awaking. 
 
 He pressed her no further. He doubtless believed she 
 had spoken the truth. She had ever been candid. Nov,', 
 however, she lacked courage to speak. She remembered 
 that the boy had said 'I come to you with a message." 
 He had disappeared without giving it. What was that 
 message ? Was he gono without delivering it ? 
 
 Mr. Jordan slowly ate his breakfast. Every now ard 
 then he looked at his daughter, never steadily, for he could 
 look fixedly long at nothing. 
 
 ' I will tell von all. papn,' said Eve suddenly, shaking
 
 n6 EVE 
 
 her head, to shake off the temptation to be untrue. Il^r 
 better nature bad prevailed. 'It was not a dream, it was 
 a reality. I did see a pixy on the Raven Rock, the mad- 
 dest, merriest, ugliest imp in the world.' 
 
 •We are surrounded by an unseen creation,' said Mr. 
 Jordan. ' The microscope reveals to us teeming life in a 
 drop of water. Another generation will use an instrument 
 that will show them the air full of living things. Then the 
 laugh will be no more heard on earth. Life will be grave, 
 if not horrible. This generation is sadder than the last 
 because less ignorant.' 
 
 1 papa ! He was not a pixy at all. I have seen him 
 before, when Mr. Jasper was thrown. Then he was 
 perched like an ope, as he is, on the cross you set up, 
 where my mother first appeared to you. lie was making 
 screams with his fiddle.' 
 
 Mr. Jordan looked at her with flickering, frightened 
 eyes. ' It was a spirit — the horse saw it and started — that 
 was how Jasper was thrown,' he said gravely. 
 
 'Here Jasper comes,' said Eve, laughing ; 'ask him.' 
 But instead of waiting for her father to do this, she sprang 
 up, and danced to meet him with the simplicity of a child, 
 and chipping her palms, she asked, 'Mr. Jasper! My 
 father will have it that my funny little pixy was a spirit of 
 the woods or wold, and will no! believe thai he is flesh 
 and blood.' 
 
 ' My daughter,' said Mr. Jordan, ' has told mo a strange 
 Btory. She says that she saw a boy on the -tlicRa 
 \\ ick, and tl at you know him.' 
 
 ' Yes, I do.' 
 
 • W hi nee com s ho ? ' 
 1 That I cannot say.' 
 
 ' Where docs he live ?" 
 
 ' Nowhere.' 
 
 'Is ho hero still?' 
 
 1 1 do not know.' 
 
 * Ilavo you re- n him before ? '
 
 FORGET-ME-NOT I 117 
 
 ' Yes — often.' 
 
 • That will do.' Mr. Jordan jerked his head and 
 waved his hand, in sign that he did not wish Jasper to 
 remain. 
 
 He treated Jasper with rudeness ; he resented the loss 
 of Eve's money, and being a man of narrow mind and vin- 
 dictive temper, he revenged the loss on the man who was 
 partly to blame for the loss. He brooded over his mis- 
 fortune, and wa3 bitter. The sight of Jasper irritated 
 him, and he did not scruple at meals to make allusions to 
 the lost money which must hurt the young man's feelings. 
 When Barbara was present, she interposed to turn the 
 onversation or blunt the significance of her father's words. 
 Eve, on the other hand, when Mr. Jordan spoke in a way 
 she did not like to Jasper or Barbara, started up and left 
 the room, because she could not endure discords. 8Us 
 sprang out of the way of harsh words as she turned from a 
 brier. It did not occur to her to save others, she saved 
 herself. 
 
 Barbara thought of Jasper and her father, Eve onlj of 
 herself. 
 
 When Jasper was gone, Mr. Jordan put his hand to 
 his head. ' I do not understand, I cannot think,' he said, 
 with a vacant look in his eyes. ' You say one thing, and 
 lie another.' 
 
 'Pardon me, dearest papa, wo both say the same, 
 that the pixy was nothing but a real boy of flesh and 
 blood, but — there, let us think and talk of something 
 
 else 
 
 'Take care 1' said Mr. Jordan gloomily; 'take care! 
 There are spirits where the wise see shadows; the eye of 
 the fool sees farther than the eye of the sage. My dear 
 Eve, beware of the Raven Rock.' 
 
 Eve began to warble the air of the serenade in 'Von 
 Giovanni ' which she had heard the boy Watt sing. 
 
 Then sho threw her arms round her lather's neck. 
 1 Do not lock so miserable, papa. I am the happiest little
 
 1 18 EVE 
 
 being in the world, and I will lass your cheeks till they 
 dimple with laughter.' But instead of doing so, she 
 dashed away to pick flowers, for she thought, seeing her- 
 self in the glass opposite, that a bunch of forget-me-not in 
 her bosom was what lacked to perfect her appearance in 
 the blue-sprigged muslin. 
 
 She knew where wild forget-me-nots grew. The Ab- 
 bot's Well sent its little silver rill through rich grass 
 towards the wood, where it spilled down the steep descent 
 to the Tamar. She knew that forget-me-not grew at the 
 border of the wood, just where the stream left the meadow 
 and the glare of the sun for its pleasant shadow. As she 
 approached the spot she saw the imp-like boy leap from 
 behind a tree. 
 
 He held up his finger, put it to bis lips, then beckoned 
 her to follow him. This she would not do. She halted 
 in the meadow, stooped, and, pretending not to see him, 
 picked seme of the blue ilowers she desired. 
 
 lie came stealthily towards her, and pointed to a stone 
 a few steps further, which was hidden from the house by 
 the slope of the hill. ' I will tell you nothing unless you 
 come,' he said. 
 
 She hesitated a moment, looked round, and advanced 
 to the place indicated. 
 
 ' I will go no farther with you,' said she, putting her 
 hand on the rock. ' I am afraid of you.' 
 
 ' It matters not,' answered the boy ; ' I can say what 1 
 want here.' 
 
 ' What is it ? Be quick, I must go home.' 
 
 1 Ob, you little puss ! Oh, you came out full of busi- 
 ness ! I can tell you, you came for nothing but the chance 
 of hearing what I forgot to tell you yesterday. I must 
 give the message I was commissioned to bear before I can 
 leave.' 
 
 ' Who from ? ' 
 
 • Can you ask ? Prom Martin.' 
 
 ' But who is Martin ? '
 
 FORGE T-ME-NO 77 1 1 $ 
 
 ' Sometimes he is one thing, then another ; he is Don 
 Giovanni. Then he is a king. There — he is an actor. 
 Will that content you ? ' 
 
 ' What is his surname ? ' 
 
 '0 Eve! daughter of Eve!' jeered the boy, 'all in- 
 quisitiveness ! What does that matter ? An actor takes 
 what name suits him.' 
 
 • What is his message ? I must run home.' 
 
 * Ee stole something from you— wicked Martin.' 
 •Yes ; a ring.' 
 
 ' And you — you stole his heart away. Poor Martin 
 lias had no peace of mind since he saw you. His con- 
 science has stung him like a viper. So he has sent me 
 hack to you with the ring.' 
 
 * Where is it ? ' 
 
 ' Shut your blue eyes, they dazzle me, and put out your 
 
 finger.' 
 
 ' Give mc the ring, please, and let me go.' 
 
 'Only on conditions — not my conditions— those of 
 
 Mart in. He was very particular in his instructions to 
 
 me. Shut your eyes and extend your dear little finger. 
 
 Next swear never, never to part with the ring I put on 
 
 your finger.' 
 
 1 That I never will. Mr. Martin had no right to take 
 
 the ring. It was impertinent of him ; it made me very 
 
 angry. Once I get it back I will never let the ring go 
 
 again.' She opened her eyes. 
 
 ' Shut ! shut ! ' cried the boy : ' and now swear.' 
 
 ' I promise,' said the girl. ' That suffices.' 
 
 1 There, then, take the ring.' He thrust the circlet on 
 
 her finger. She opened her eyes again and looked at her 
 
 hand. 
 
 ' Why, boy ! ' she exclaimed, ' this is not my ring. It 
 
 is another.' 
 
 • To be sure it is, you little fool. Do you think that 
 Martin would return the ring you gave him? No, no. 
 He sends you this in exchange for yours. It is prettier,
 
 r2o EVE 
 
 Look at the blue flower on it, formed of turquoise. For- 
 get-me-not.' 
 
 1 1 cannot keep tlii3. I want my own,' said Eve, pout- 
 ing, and her eyes filling. 
 
 'You must abide Martin's time. Meanwhile retain 
 this pledge.' 
 
 ' I cannot ! I will not ! ' she stamped her foot petu- 
 lantly on the oxalis and forget-me-not that grew beneath 
 the rock, tears of vexation brimming in her eyes. ' You 
 have not dealt fairly by me. You have cheated me.' 
 
 4 Listen to me, Miss Eve,' said the boy in a coaxing tone. 
 1 You are a child, and have to be treated as such. Look at 
 the beautiful stones, observe the sweet blue flower. You 
 know what that means — Forget-me-not. Our poor Martin 
 ha3 to ramble through the world with a heart-ache, yearn 
 ing for a pair of sparkling blue eyes, and for t\vo wild 
 roses blooming in the sweetest cheeks the sun ever kissed, 
 and for a head of hair like a beech tree touched by frost in 
 a blazing autumn's sun. Do you think he can forget these ? 
 Ho carries that face of yours ever about with him, and now 
 he sends you this ring, and that means — " Miss, you have 
 made me very unhappy. I can never forget the little maid 
 with oyvr, of blue, and so I send her this token to bid her 
 forget me not. as I can never forget her." ' 
 
 And as Eve stood musing with pouting lips, and trou- 
 bled brow, looking at the ring, the boy took his violin, and 
 with the fingers plucked the strings to make an accompani- 
 ment as he sang : — 
 
 A mai leu stood beside :i river, 
 
 And with tier pitcher seemed to play; 
 
 Then sudden stooped and drew up water, 
 lUit drew my beait as well away. 
 
 Arid now I sigh beside the river, 
 
 I dream about that maid I saw, 
 I wait, 1 watch, am restless, weeping, 
 
 Until she come again to draw. 
 
 A flower is blooming by the river, 
 
 A floweret with a petal blue, 
 Forget me not, my love, my treasure t 
 
 My flower and heart are both for you.
 
 FORGE T-ME-NO 77 1 2 1 
 
 He played and sang a sweet, simple and plaintive air. 
 It touched Eve's heart ; always susceptible to music. Her 
 lips repeated after the boy, ' My flower and heart are both 
 for you.' 
 
 She could not make up her mind what to do. While 
 siie hesitated, the opportunity of returning the ring was 
 gone. Watt had disappeared into the bushes. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 DISCOVERIES. 
 
 A beautiful summer evening. Eve from her window 
 saw Jasper in the garden; he was trimming the flower- 
 beds which had been neglected since Christopher Davy 
 had been ill. The men were busy on the farm, too busy t.) 
 be taken off for flower gardening. Barbara had said one 
 day that it was a pity the bods were not put to rights ; and 
 now Jasper was attending to her wishes during her absence. 
 Mr. Jordan was out. He had gone forth with his hammer, 
 and there was no telling when he would return. Eve dis- 
 liked being alone. She must talk to someone. She 
 brushed her beautiful hair, looked in the glass, adjusted a 
 scarf round her shoulders, and in a coquettish way tripped 
 into the garden and began to pick the flowers, peeping at 
 Jasper out of the corners of her eyes, to see if lie were 
 observing her. He, however, paid no attention to what 
 she was doing. Li a fit of impatience, she flung the auri- 
 culas and polyanthus she had picked on the path, and 
 threw herself pouting into the nearest garden scat. 
 
 ' Mr. Jasper ! ' she called ; ' are you so mightily busy 
 that you cannot afford me a word ? ' 
 
 ' I am always and altogether at your service, dear Miss 
 Eve.' 
 
 ' Why have you taken to gardening? Are ^ou fond 01 
 flowers ? '
 
 122 EVE 
 
 ' I am devoted to flowers.' 
 
 I So am I. I pick them.' 
 
 ' And throw thcni away,' said Jasper, stooping and col- 
 lecting those she had strewn on the path. 
 
 ' Well — I have not the patience to garden. I leave all 
 that to Barbara and old Christopher. I wish things gene- 
 rally, gardens included, would go along without giving 
 trouble. I wish my sister were home.' 
 
 ' To relieve you of all responsibility and trouble.' 
 
 I I hate trouble,' said Eve frankly, ' and responsibility 
 is like a burr in one's clothes— detestable. There! you 
 are laughing at me, Mr. Jasper.' 
 
 ' I am not laughing, I am sighing.' 
 
 ' Oh, you are always sad.' 
 
 ' I do not like to hear you talk in this manner. Ycu 
 cannot expect to have your sister at your elbow throughout 
 life, to fan off all the flies that tease you.' 
 
 ' If I have not Bab, I shall have someone else.' 
 
 ' Miss Barbara might marry — and then ' 
 
 ' Barbara marry ! ' exclaimed Eve, and clapped her 
 hands. ' The idea is too absurd. Who would marry her ? 
 She is a dear, darling girl, but ' 
 
 ' But what, missie f ' 
 
 1 1 dare say I shall marry.' 
 
 ' Miss Eve ! listen to me. It is most likely that you 
 will be married some day, but what then ? You will have 
 a thousand more cares on your shoulders than you have 
 now, duties you will be forced to bear, troubles which will 
 ( ncompass you on all sides.' 
 
 ' Do you know,' said Eve, with a twinkling face, and a 
 sly look in her eyes, ' do you know, Mr. Jasper, I don't 
 think I shall marry for ever so long. But I have a glorious 
 scheme in my head. As my money is gone, if anything 
 should happen to us, I should dearly like to go on the 
 stage. That would be simply splendid ! ' 
 
 ' The young crows,' said Jasper gravely, ' live on the 
 dew of heaven, and then they are covered with a soft shining
 
 DISCOVERIES 123 
 
 down. After a while the old birds bring them carrion, and 
 when they have tasted flesh, they no longer have any liking 
 for dew. Then the black feathers sprout, then only.' He 
 raised his dark eyes to those of Eve, and said in a deep, 
 vibrating voice, ' I would have this sweet fledgling sit still 
 in her beautiful Morwell nest, and drink only the sparkling 
 drops that fall into her mouth from the finger of God. I 
 cannot bear to think of her growing black feathers, and 
 hopping about — a carrion crow.' 
 
 Eve fidgeted on her seat. She had thrust her pretty 
 feet before her, clad in white stockings and blue leather 
 slippers, one on the other ; she crossed and recrossed them 
 impatiently. 
 
 ' I do not like you to talk to me like this. I am tired of 
 living in the wilds where one sees nobody, and where I can 
 never go to theatre or concert or ball. I should— oh, I 
 should like to live in a town.' 
 
 ' You are a child, Miss Eve, and think and talk like a 
 child. But the time is coming when you must put away 
 childish things, and face life seriously.' 
 
 ' It is not wicked to want to go to a town. There is nc 
 barm in dreaming that I am an actress. Oh ! ' she ex- 
 claimed, held up her hands, and laughed, 'that would be 
 too delightful ! ' 
 
 ' What lias put this mad fancy into your head ? ' 
 
 ' Two or three things. I will confide in you, dear Mr. 
 Jasper, if you can spare the time to listen. This morning 
 as I had nothing to do, and no one to talk to, I thought I 
 would search the garrets here. I have never been over 
 them, and they are extensive. Barbara has always (lis 
 suaded me from going up there because they are so dusty 
 and hung with cobwebs. There is such a lot of rubbish 
 heaped up and packed away in the attics. I don't believe 
 that Barbara knows what is there. I don't fancy papa does. 
 Well ! I went up to-day and found treasures.' 
 
 ' Pray, what treasures ? ' 
 
 ' Barbara is away, and there is no one to scold.
 
 124 EVE 
 
 There are boxes there, and old chairs, all kinds of thing?, 
 some are so heavy I could hardly move them. I could not 
 get them back into their places again, if I were to try.' 
 
 ' So you threw the entire garret into disorder? ' 
 
 ' Pretty well, but I will send up one of the men or 
 maids to tidy it before Barbara comes home. Behind 
 nn old broken winnowing machine- -fancy a winnowing 
 machine up there!— and under a pile of old pans and 
 bottomless crocks is a chest, to which I got with infinite 
 trouble, and not till I was very hot and dirty. I found it 
 was locked, but the rust had eaten through the hinges, or 
 the nails fast* Ding them ; and after working the lid aboul 
 awhile I was able to lift it. What do you suppose I found 
 inside V ' 
 
 ' I cannot guess.' 
 
 'No, I am sure you cannot. Wait— go on with youi 
 gardening. I w ill bring you one of my treasures.' 
 
 She darted into the house, and after a few minute . 
 Jasper heard a tinkling as of brass. Then I've danced out 
 to him, laughing and shaking a taml ourine. 
 
 ' 1 suppose it, belonged to you or Miss .Ionian when you 
 were children, and was stowed away under the mistaken 
 impression that you had outgrown toys.' 
 
 4 .No, Mr. Jasper, it never belonged to either Barbara 
 or me. I never had one. Barbara gave me everything of 
 In r own 1 wanted. I could not have forgotten this. 1 
 would have played with it till I had broken the parchment, 
 and shaken out all the little bells.' 
 
 'dive it to me. I will tighten the parchment, and 
 then you can drum on it with your fingers.' He took the 
 instrument from her, and strained the cover. 'Bo you 
 know, Miss Eve, how to use a tambourine ? ' 
 
 ' Xo. I shake it, and then all the little bells tingle.' 
 
 ' Yes, but you also tap the drum. You want music 
 us an accompaniment, and to that you dance with this toy.' 
 
 ' How do you mean ? ' 
 
 '1 will show you how I have seen it played by Italian
 
 DISCOVERIES 12? 
 
 and gipsy girls.' Ho took the tambourine, and singing a 
 lively dance air, struck, the drum and clinked the brasses, 
 lie danced before Eve gravely, with graceful movements. 
 
 ' That is it ! ' cried Eve, with eyes that flashed with 
 delight, and with feet that itched to dance. ' Oh, give 
 it mo back. I understand thoroughly now, thank you, 
 thank you so heartily, dear Mr. Jasper. And now — I have 
 not done. Come up into the garret when I call' 
 
 ' What for ? To help you to make more rummage, and 
 find more toys ? ' 
 
 ' No ! 1 want you to push the winnowing machine bad-:, 
 and to make order in the litter I have created.' 
 
 Jasper nodded good-humouredly. 
 
 Then Eve, rattling her tambourine over her head, w\\\ 
 in ; and Jasper resumed his work at the flower-beds. 
 Barbara's heliotrope, from which she so often wore a frag- 
 rant flower, had not been planted many weeks. It was 
 straggling, and needed pinning down. Her seedling asters 
 had not been pricked out in a bed, and they were crowding 
 each other in their box. He took them out and divided 
 their interlaced roots. 
 
 ' Mr. Jasper ! ' A little face was peeping out of the 
 email window in the gable that lighted the attic. He 
 locked up, waved his hand, and laid down the young astera 
 with a sigh, but covered their roots with earth before leav- 
 ing them. 
 
 Then he washed his hands at the Abbot's "Well, and 
 slowly ascended the stair to the attic. It was a new! 
 stone flight, very narrow, in the thickness of the wall. 
 
 When he reached the top he threw up a trap in tho 
 floor, and pushed his head through. 
 
 Then, indeed, he v>as surprised'. The inconsidi rate 
 Eve had taken tome candle ends and stuck them on the 
 binding beam of the roof, and lighted them. They cast a 
 yellow radiance through the vast space, without illumining 
 its recesses. All was indistinct save within the ra 
 ;>( ;> few feet around the candles. Tn the far oi'i blackness
 
 126 EVE 
 
 was one silvery grey square of light — the little gable win- 
 dow. On the floor the rafter east its shadow as a bar of 
 ink. 
 
 Jasper was not surprised at the illumination, though 
 vexed at the careless manner in which I've had created it. 
 "What surprised him was the appearance of the young girl. 
 She was transfigured. She was dressed in a saffron- 
 yellow skirt with a crimson lattice of ribbon over it, fas- 
 tened with bows, and covered with spangles. She wore a 
 crimson velvet bodice, glittering with gold lace and bullion 
 thread embroidery. Uut her eyes sparkled brighter than 
 the tarnished spangles. 
 
 The moment Jasper's head appeared through the trap 
 in the floor, she struck the timbrel, and clattered the 
 jingles, and danced and laughed. Then seeing how 
 amazed he was she skipped coquettishly towards him, 
 rattled her drum in his ear, and danced back again under 
 her row of candles. She had caught the very air he had 
 sung recently, when showing her how to manage the in- 
 strument. She had heard it that once, but she had seized 
 the melody, and she sang it, and varied it after* her own 
 caprice, but without losing the leading thread, and always 
 coming back to the burden with a similar set gesture of 
 arms and feet, and stroke of drum and clash of bells. 
 Then, all at once, one of the candles fell over on the rafter 
 and dropped to the floor. Eve brought her tambourine 
 down with a crash and jangle; Jasper sprang forward, 
 and extinguished the candle with his foot. 
 
 'There! Is not this witchc] exclaimed Eve. 
 
 1 Go down through the trap again, Mr. . kper, and I will 
 rej( in you. Not a word to papa, or to barbie when she 
 n 1 1 rns.' 
 
 ' I will not go till the candles are put out and the risk 
 of a tire is past. You can see by the window to take off 
 this trumpery.' 
 
 'Trumpery! Oh, Mr. Jasper! Trumpery!' she ex- 
 claimed in an injured, disap] ointi << tone.
 
 DISCOVERIES 127 
 
 1 Call it what you will. "Where did you find it ? ' 
 
 ' In yonder box. There is more in it. Do go now, 
 Mr. Jasper; I will put out the candles, I will, honour 
 bright,' 
 
 The bailiff descended, and resumed his work with the 
 asters. He smiled and yet was vexed at Eve's giddiness. 
 It was impossible to be angry with her, she was but a 
 child. It was hard not to look with apprehension to her 
 future. 
 
 Suddenly he stood up, and listened. He heard the 
 clatter of horse's hoofs in the lane. "Who could be coming ? 
 The evening had closed in. The sun was set. It was not 
 dark so near midsummer, but dusk. He went hastily from 
 the garden into the lane, and saw the young groom urging 
 on his fagged horse, and leading another by the bridle, 
 with a lady's saddle on it. 
 
 ' "Where is your mistress ? Is anything the matter ? ' 
 
 'Nothing,' answered the lad. ' She is behind. In 
 taking off her glove she lost her ring, and now I must get 
 a lantern to look for it.' 
 
 ' Nelly,' that was the horse, ' is tired. I will get a 
 light and run back. Whereabouts is she ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, not a thousand yards from the eel ire of the moor. 
 The doctor rode with us part of the way from Tavistock. 
 After he left, Miss Barbara took off her glove and lost her 
 ring. She won't leave the spot till it be found.' 
 
 1 Go in. I will take the light to her. Tell the cook 
 to prepare supper. Miss Jordan must be tired and 
 hungry.' 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 babbaba's eing. 
 
 Jasper quickly got the lantern out of the stable, and 
 Ugh tod. the candle in the kitchen. Then ho ran with it
 
 ?53 EVE 
 
 along tlio rough, stone-strewn lane, between walls of moor- 
 stone, till lie came to the moor. He followed the track 
 rather than road which traversed it. With evening, clouds 
 had gathered and much obscured the light. Nevertheless 
 the north was full of fine silvery haze, against which stood 
 up the curious conical hill of Brent Tor, crowned with its 
 little church. 
 
 When suddenly Jasper came up to Miss Jordan, he 
 tools her unawares. She was stooping, searching tho 
 ground, and, in her dark-green riding habit, he had mis- 
 taken her for a gorse hush. When he arrived with the 
 lantern she arose abruptly, and on recognising the young 
 man the riding-whip dropped from her hand. 
 
 'Mr. Jasper!' she exclaimed. 
 
 4 Miss Barbara ! ' 
 
 They stood still looking at each other in the twilight. 
 One of her white hands was gloveless. 
 
 ' What has brought you here ? ' asked Barbara, stoop- 
 in-- and picking up her whip with one hand, and gathering 
 her habit with the other. 
 
 ' I heard that you had lost something.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I was thoughtless. I was warm, and I hastily 
 whisked off my glove that I might pass my hand over my 
 brow, and I felt as I plucked the glove away that my aunt';; 
 ring came off. It was not a good fit. I was so foolish, so 
 unnerved, that I let drop the glove— and now can find 
 neither. The ring, I suspect, is in the glove, but I cannot 
 find that. So I sent on Johnny Ostler for the lantern. I 
 supposed he would return with it.' 
 
 ' I took the liberty of coming myself. He is a boy and 
 tired with his long journey ; besides, the horses have to be 
 attended to. I hope you arc not displeased.' 
 
 ' On the contrary,' she replied, in her frank, kindly 
 tone, 'I am glad to see you. When one has been from 
 home a long distance, it is pleasant to meet a messenger 
 from home to say how all are.' 
 
 • And i- •' : the messenger to bring good
 
 BARBARA'S RING 129 
 
 tidings. Mr. Jordan is well ; Miss Eve happy as a butter- 
 fly in summer over a clover field.' 
 
 If it had not been dusk, and Barbara had not turned her 
 head aside, Jasper would have seen a change in her face. 
 She suddenly bowed herself and recommenced her search. 
 
 ' I am very, very sorry,' she said, in a low tone, 'I am 
 
 not able to be a pleasant messenger to you. I am ' 
 
 she half raised herself, her voice was full of sympathy. ' I 
 am more sorry than I can say.' 
 
 He made no reply ; he had not, perhaps, expected 
 much. He threw the light of the lantern along the ground, 
 and began to search for the glove. 
 
 ' You are carrying something,' he said ; ' let me relieve 
 you, Miss Jordan.' 
 
 ' It is — your violin.' 
 
 ' Miss Barbara ! how kind, how good ! You have 
 carried it all the way ? ' 
 
 1 Not at all. Johnny Ostler had it most part. Then 
 Mr. Coyshe carried it. The boy could not take it at the 
 same time that he led my horse ; you understand that ? ' 
 Her voice became cold, her pride was touched ; she did not 
 choose that he should know the truth. 
 
 ' But you thought of bringing it.' 
 
 1 Not at all. Your father insisted on its being taken 
 from his house. The boy has the rest of your things, as 
 many as could be carried.' 
 
 Nothing further was said. They searched together for 
 the glove. They were forced to search closely together be- 
 cause the lantern cast but a poor light round. Where the 
 glare did fall, there the tiny white clover leaves, fine moor 
 grass, small delicately-shaped flowers of the milkwort, 
 white and blue, seemed a newly-discovered little world of 
 loveliness. But Barbara had other matters to consider, 
 and scarcely noticed the beauty. She was not susceptible 
 as Eve to the beautiful and picturesque. She was looking 
 for her glovo, but her thoughts were not wholly concerned 
 with the glove and ring. 
 
 E
 
 i 3 o EVE 
 
 1 Mr. Jasper, I saw your father.' Slic spoke in a low 
 
 voice, their heads were not far asunder. ' I told him where 
 you were.' 
 
 ' Miss Barbara, did he say anything to you about me ? 
 Did he say anything about the — the loss of the money ? ' 
 
 ' He refused to hear about you. He would hardly 
 listen to a word I said.' 
 
 * Did ho tell you who took the money?' 
 
 'No.' She paused. 'Why should he? I knew — it 
 was you ' 
 
 Jasper sighed. 
 
 'I can see,' pursued Barbara, 'that you were hard 
 tried. I know that you had no happy home, that you had 
 no mother, and that your father may have been harsh and 
 exacting, but — but — ' her voice shook. ' Excuse me, I am 
 tired, and anxious about my ring. It is a sapphire sur- 
 rounded with diamonds. I cannot speak much. I ought 
 not to have put the ring on my finger till the hoop had 
 been reduced. It was a very pretty ring.' 
 
 Then the search was continued in silence, without 
 result. 
 
 ' Excuse me,' she said, after a while, ' I may seem en- 
 grossed in my loss and regardless of your disappointment. 
 I cxp< ct( d that your father would have been eager to for- 
 give you. The father of the prodigal in the Gospel ran to 
 meet his repentant son. I am sure — I am sure you are re- 
 pentant.' 
 
 ' I will do all in my power to redress the wrong that 
 has been done,' said Jasper calmly. 
 
 ' I entreated Mr. Babb to be generous, to relax his 
 i verity, and to send you his blessing. But I could not win 
 a word of kindness for you, Mr. Jasper, not a word of hope 
 and love! ' 
 
 ' Oli, Miss Jordan, how good and kind you are ! ' 
 ' Mr. Jasper,' she said in a soft tremulous voice, ' I 
 would take the journey readily over again. I would ride 
 ! ack at once, and alone over the moor, if I thought that
 
 BARBARA'S RING 131 
 
 would win the word for you. I believe, I trust, you are re- 
 pentant, and I would do all in my power to strengthen 
 your good resolution, and save your soul.' 
 
 Then she touched a gorse bush and made her hand 
 smart with the prickles. She put the ungloved hand within 
 the radius of the light, and tried to see and remove the 
 spines. 
 
 'Never mind,' she said, forcing a laugh. ' The ring, 
 not the prickles, is of importance now. If I do not find 
 it to-night, I shall send out all the men to-morrow, and 
 promise a reward to quicken their interest and sharpen 
 their eyes.' 
 
 She put her fingers where most wounded to her lips. 
 Then, thinking that she had said too much, shown too great 
 a willingness to help Jasper, she exclaimed, ' Our holy reli- 
 gion requires us to do our utmost for the penitent. There 
 is joy in heaven over one sinner that is contrite.' 
 
 ' I have found your glove,' exclaimed Jasper joyously. 
 He rose and held up a dog-skin riding-glove with 
 gauntlet. 
 
 ' Feel inside if the ring be there,' said Barbara. ' I 
 cannot do so myself, one hand is engaged with my whip 
 and skirt.' 
 
 'I can feel it — the hoop — through the leather.' 
 
 ' I am so glad, so much obliged to you, Mr. Jasper.' 
 She held out her white hand with the ring-finger extended. 
 'Please put it in place, and I will close my fist till I reach 
 home.' 
 
 She made the request without thought, considering 
 only that she had her whip and gathered habit in her 
 right, gloved hand. 
 
 Jasper opened the lantern and raised it. The diamonds 
 sparkled. ' Yes, that is my ring,' said Barbara. 
 
 He set the lantern on a stone, a slab of white felspar 
 that lay on the grass. Then he lightly held her hand with 
 his left, and with the right placed the ring on her finger. 
 
 But the moment it was in place and his fingers held it 
 
 k 2
 
 132 EVE 
 
 there, a shock of terror and shame went to Barbara's 
 heart. What inconsiderateness had she been guilty of ! 
 The reflection of the light from the white felspar was 
 in their faces. In a moment, unable to control herself, 
 Barbara burst into tears. Jasper stooped and kissed the 
 fingers he held. 
 
 Sbe started back, snatched her hand from him, clenched 
 her fist, and struck her breast with it. ' How dare you ! 
 You — you— the escaped convict ! Go on ; I will follow. 
 You have insulted me.' 
 
 He obeyed. But as he walked back to Morwell ahead 
 of her, he was not cast down. Eve, in the garret, had 
 that day opened a coffer and made a discovery. He, too, 
 on the down, had wrenched open for one moment a fast- 
 closed heart, had looked in, and made a discovery. 
 
 When Barbara reached her home she rushed to her 
 room, where she threw herself on her bed, and beat and 
 beat again, with her fists, her head and breast, and said, 
 'I hate— I hate and despise myself 1 I hate— oh, howl 
 hate myself I ' 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 TEKPLKXITY. 
 
 Bat.baka was roused early next morning by Eve ; Eve had 
 
 overslept herself when she ought to be up ; she woke and 
 rose early when another hour of rest would have been a 
 boon to poor Barbara. The sisters occupied adjoining 
 rooms that communicated, and the door was always open 
 between them. When Eve was awake she would not suffer 
 her sister to sleep on. She stooped over her and kissed 
 her closed eyes till she woke. Eve had thrown open the 
 window, and the sweet fresh air blew in. The young girl 
 was not more than half dressed. She stood by Barbara's 
 bed with her lovely hair dishevelled about her head, form-
 
 PERPLEXITY 133 
 
 ing a halo of red -gold glory to her face. That face was 
 lovely with its delicate roses of health and happiness, and 
 the blue eyes twinkling in it full of life and fun. Her neck 
 was exposed. She folded her slender arms round Bar- 
 bara's head and shook it, and kissed again, till the tired, 
 sleep-stupefied girl awoke. 
 
 ' I cannot sleep this lovely morning,' said Eve ; then, 
 with true feminina non-scquilur; 'So you must get up, 
 Barbie.' 
 
 ' Ob, Eve, is it time ? ' Barbara sat up in bed instantly 
 wide awake. Her sister seated herself on the side of the 
 bed and laid her hand in her lap. 
 
 ' Eve ! ' exclaimed Barbara suddenly, : what have you 
 there— en your finger ? Who gave you that ? ' 
 
 ' It is a ring, Bab. Is it not beautiful, a forget-me-not 
 of turquoise set in a circlet of gold ? ' 
 
 ' Who gave it you, Eve ? ' 
 
 * A pixy gift ! ' laughed the girl carelessly. 
 
 * This will not do. You must answer me. Where did 
 you get it ? ' 
 
 ' I found it, Barbie.' 
 
 ' Found it — where ? ' 
 
 ' Where are forget-me-not3 usually found ? * Then 
 hastily, before her sister could speak, ' But what a lovely 
 ring you have got on your pincushion, Bab ! Mine cannot 
 compare with it. Is that the ring I heard the maids say 
 you lost ? ' 
 
 1 Yes, dear.' 
 
 ' How did you recover it? Who found it for you ? ' 
 
 ' Jasper.' 
 
 Eve turned her ring on her finder. 
 
 * My darling,' said Barbara, ' you have not been candid 
 with me about that ring. Did Dr. Coyshe give it to 
 you ? ' 
 
 'Dr. Coyshe ! Oh, Barbara, that ever you should think 
 of me as aspiring to be Mrs. Squash 1 ' 
 ■ When did you get the ring ? '
 
 i 3 4 EVE 
 
 * Yesterday. 
 
 ' Who gave it to you ? You must tell me.* 
 
 •I have already told you— I found it by the wood, as 
 truly as you found yours on the down.' 
 
 Suddenly Barbara started, and her heart beat fast. 
 
 ' Eve !— where is the ribbon and your mother's ring ? 
 You used to have that ring always in your bosom. Where 
 is it ? Have you parted with that ? ' 
 
 Eve's colour rose, flushing face and throat and bosom. 
 
 * Oh, darling ! ' exclaimed Barbara, ' answer me truly. 
 To whom have you given that ring ? ' 
 
 « I have not given it ; I have lost it. You must not be 
 angry with me, Bab. You lost yours.' Eve's eyes sank 
 as she spoke, and her voice faltered. 
 
 The elder sister did not speak for a moment ; she looked 
 hard at Eve, who stood up and remained before her in a 
 pretty penitential attitude, but unable to meet her eye. 
 
 Barbara considered. Whom could her sister have met ? 
 There was no one, absolutely no one she could think of, if 
 Mr. Coyshe were set aside, but Jasper. Now Barbara had 
 disapproved of the way in which Eve ran after Jasper be- 
 fore she departed for Ashburton. She had remonstrated, 
 but she knew that her remonstrances carried small weight. 
 Eve was a natural coquette. She loved to be praised, 
 admired, made much of. The life at Morwell was dull, 
 and Eve sought society of any sort where she could chatter 
 and attract admiration and provoke a compliment. Eve 
 had not made any secret of her liking for Jasper, but Bar. 
 bara had not thought there was anything serious in the 
 liking. It was a child's fancy. But then, she considered, 
 would any man's heart be able to withstand the pretty 
 wiles of Eve ? Was it possible for Jasper to be daily 
 associated with this fairy creature and not love her?' 
 
 ' Eve,' said Barbara gravely, ' it is of no use trying 
 concealment with me. I know who gave you the ring. I 
 know more than you suppose.' 
 
 ' Jasper has been telling tales,' exclaimed Eve.
 
 PERPLEXITY 135 
 
 Barbara winced but did not speak. 
 
 Eve supposed that Jasper had informed her sister about 
 the meeting with Watt on the Raven Rock. 
 
 ' Are you going to sleep again ? ' asked Eve, as Barbara 
 had cast herself back on her pillow with the face in it. 
 The elder sister shook her head and made a sign with her 
 hand to be left alone. 
 
 When Barbara was nearly dressed, Eve stole on tiptoe 
 out of her own room into that of her sister. She was 
 uneasy at Barbara's silence ; she thought her sister was 
 hurt and offended with her. So she stepped behind her, 
 put her arms round her waist, as Barbara stood before the 
 mirror, and her head over her sister's shoulder, partly that 
 she might kiss her cheek, partly also that she might see 
 her own face in the glass and contrast it with that of Bar- 
 bara. ' You are not cross with me ? ' she said coaxingly. 
 
 I No, Eve, no one can be cross with you.' She turned 
 and kissed her passionately. ' Barling ! you must give back 
 the little ring and recover that of your mother.' 
 
 ' It is impossible,' answered Eve. 
 
 ' Then I must do what I can for you,' said Barbara, 
 Barbara was resolved what to do. She would speak to her 
 father, if necessary ; but before that she must have a word 
 on the matter with Jasper. It was impossible to tolerate 
 an attachment and secret engagement between him and 
 her sister. 
 
 She sought an opportunity of speaking privately to the 
 young man, and easily found one. But when they were 
 together alone, she discovered that it was not easy to 
 approach the topic that was uppermost in her mind. 
 
 I I was very tired last night, Mr. Jasper,' she said, 
 « over-tired, and I am hardly myself this morning. The 
 loss of my aunt, the funeral, the dividing of her poor little 
 treasures, and then the lengthy ride, upset me. It was very 
 ridiculous of mo last night to cry, but a girl takes refuge in 
 tears when overspent, it relieves and even refreshes her.' 
 
 Then she hesitated and looked down. But Barbara had
 
 136 EVE 
 
 n itrong will, and when she had made up her mind to do 
 what she believed to be right, allowed no weakness to in- 
 terfere with the execution. 
 
 ' And now I want to speak about something else. I 
 must beg you will not encourage Eve. She is a child, 
 thoughtless and foolish.' 
 
 • Yes ; she should be kept more strictly guarded. I 
 do not encourage her. I regret her giddiness, and give 
 her good advice, which she casts to the winds. Excuse 
 my saying it, but you and Mr. Jordan are spoiling the 
 child.' 
 
 ' My father and I spoil Eve ! That is not possible.' 
 
 ' You think so ; I do not. The event will prove which 
 is right, Miss Jordan.' 
 
 Barbara was annoyed. What right had Jasper to dic- 
 tate how Eve was to be treated ? 
 
 ' That ring,' began Barbara, and halted. 
 
 ' It is not lost again, surely ! ' said Jasper. 
 
 Barbara frowned. ' I am not alluding to my ring 
 which you found along with my glove, but to that which 
 you gave to Eve.' 
 
 1 1 gave her no ring ; I do not understand you.' 
 
 ' It is a pretty little thing, and a toy. Of course you 
 only gave it her as such, but it was unwise.' 
 
 ' I repeat, I gave her no ring, Miss Jordan.' 
 
 ' She says that she found it, but it is most improbable.' 
 
 Jasper laughed, not cheerfully ; there was always a 
 sadness in his laughter. • You have made a great mistake, 
 Miss Jordan. It is true that your sister found the ring. 
 That is, I conclude she did, as yesterday she found a chest 
 in the garret full of old masquerading rubbish, and a tam- 
 bourine, and I know not what besides.' 
 
 A load was taken off Barbara's mind. So Eve had not 
 deceived her. 
 
 1 She showed me a number of her treasures,' said Jasper. 
 ' No doubt whatever that she found the ring along with the 
 other trumpery.'
 
 PERPLEXITY 137 
 
 Barbara's face cleared. She drew a long breath. 
 ' Why did not Eve tell me all ? ' she said. 
 
 'Because,' answered the young man, 'she was afraid 
 you would be angry with her for getting the old tawdry 
 stuff out of the box, and she ashed me not to tell you 
 of it. Now I have betrayed her confidence, I must 
 leave to you, Mis3 Jordan, to make iny peace with Miss 
 Eve.' 
 
 ' She has also lost something that hung round her 
 throat.' 
 
 ' Very likely. She was, for once, hard at work in the 
 garret, moving boxes and hampers. It is lying somewhere 
 on the floor. If you wish it I will search for her ornament, 
 and hope my success will be equal to that of last night.' 
 He looked down at her hand. The ring was not on it. 
 She observed his glance and said coldly, ' My ring does 
 not fit me, and I shall reserve it till I am old, or till I 
 find some young lady friend to whom I must make a wed- 
 ding present.' Then she turned away. She walked across 
 the Abbot's Meadow, through which the path led to the 
 rocks, because she knew that Eve had gone in that direc- 
 tion. Before long she encountered her sister returning 
 with a large bunch of foxgloves in her hand. 
 
 ' Do look, Bab ! ' exclaimed Eve, ' is not this a splendid 
 sceptre ? A wild white foxglove with thirty-seven bells 
 on it.' 
 
 ' Eve ! ' said Barbara, her honest face alight with plea- 
 sure ; ' my dearest, I was wrong to doubt you. I know 
 now where you found the ring, and I am not in the least 
 cross about it. There, kiss and make peace.' 
 
 ' I wish the country folk had a prettier name for the 
 foxglove than flop-a-dock,' said Eve. 
 
 ' My dear,' said Barbara, ' you shall show me the pretty 
 things you have found in the attic' 
 
 ' What— Bab ? ' 
 
 ' I know all about it. Jasper has proved a traitor.' 
 
 ' What has he told you ? '
 
 138 EVE 
 
 1 He has told mo where you found the turquoise ring, 
 together -with a number of fancy hall dresses.' 
 
 Eve was silent. A struggle wont on in her innocent 
 heart. She hated falsehood. It pained her to deceive her 
 sister, who had such perfect faith in her. She felt inclined 
 to tell her all, yet she dared not do so. In her heart 
 she longed to hear more of Martin. She remembered 
 his handsome face, his flattering and tender words, 
 the romance cf that night. No! she could not tell 
 Barbara. 
 
 ' We will go together into the garret,' said Barbara, 
 ' and search for your mother's ring. It will easily be found 
 by the blue ribbon to which it is attached.' 
 
 Then Eve laughed, held her sister at arms' length, 
 thrusting the great bunch of purple and white foxgloves 
 against her shoulder, so that their tall heads nodded by 
 her cheek and ear. ' No, Bab, sweet, I did not find the 
 ring in the chest with the gay dresses. I did not lose the 
 ring of my mother's in the loft. I tell you the truth, but 
 I tell you no more.' 
 
 4 Oh, Eve ! ' Barbara's colour faded. ' Who was it? I 
 implore you, if you love me, tell me.' 
 
 ' I love you dearly, but no.' She curtsied. ' Find 
 out if you can.' Then she tripped away, waving her 
 fox 'doves. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE SCVTHE OF TIME. 
 
 ' My papa ! my darling papa ! ' Eve burst into her father's 
 room. ' I want you much to do something for me. Mr. 
 Jasper is so kind. He has promised to have a game of 
 bowls with me this evening on the lawn, and the grass is 
 not mown.' 
 
 'Well, dear, get it mown,' said Mr. Jordan dreamily.
 
 THE SCYTHE OF TIME 139 
 
 • But there is no man about, and old Davy is in bed. 
 What am I to do ? ' 
 
 4 Wait till to-morrow.' 
 
 ' I cannot ; I shall die of impatience. T have set my 
 heart on a game of bowls. Do you not see, papa, that the 
 weather may change in the night and spoil play for to- 
 morrow ? ' 
 
 1 Then what do you wish ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! my dear papa,' Eve nestled into his arms, ' I 
 don't want much, only that you would cut the grass for 
 me. It really will net take you ten minutes. I will 
 promise to sweep up what is cut.' 
 
 ' I am engaged, Eve, on a very delicate test.' 
 
 * So am I, papa.' 
 
 Mr. Ignatius Jordan looked up at her with dull sur- 
 prise in his eyes. 
 
 ' I mean, papa, that if you really love me you will 
 jump up and mow the grass. If ycu don't love me you 
 will go on muddling with those minerals and chemicals.' 
 
 The gaunt old man stood up. Eve knew her power 
 over him. She could make him obey her slightest caprice. 
 She ran before him to the gardener's tool-house and 
 brought him the scythe. 
 
 In the quadrangle was a grass plat, and on this Eve 
 had decided to play her game. 
 
 ' All the balls are here except the Jack,' said she. ' I 
 shall have to rummage everywhere for the black-a-moor ; 
 I can't think where he can be.' Then she ran into tue 
 house in quest of the missing ball. 
 
 The grass had been left to grow all spring and had not 
 been cut at all, so that it was rank. Mr. Jordan did not 
 well know how to wield a scythe. He tried and met with 
 so little success that he suspected the blade was blunt. 
 Accordingly he went to the tool-house for the hone, and, 
 standing the scythe up with the handle on the swath, 
 tried to sharpen the blade. 
 
 The grass was of the worst possible quality. Tho
 
 140 EVE 
 
 quadrangle was much in shadow. TI13 plots wera so 
 exhausted that little grew except daisy and buttercup. 
 Jasper had already told Barbara to have the wood-ashes 
 thrown on the plots, and had promised to see that they 
 were limed in winter. Whilst Mr. Jordan was honing 
 the scythe slowly and clumsily Barbara came to him. She 
 was surprised to see him thus engaged. Lean, haggard, 
 with deep-sunken eyes, and hollow cheeks, he lacked but 
 the hour-glass to make him stand as the personification of 
 Time. He was in an ill-humour at having been disturbed 
 and set to an uncongenial task, though his ill-humour was 
 not directed towards Eve. Barbara was always puzzled 
 by her father. That he suffered, she saw, but she could 
 not make out of what and where he suffered, and he re- 
 sented inquiry. There were times when his usually dazed 
 look was exchanged for one of keenness, when his eyes 
 glittered with a feverish anxiety, and he seemed to be 
 watching and expecting -with eye and car something or 
 some person that never came. At table he was without 
 conversation ; he sat morose, lost in his own thoughts till 
 roused by an observation addressed to him. His temper 
 was uncertain. Often, as he observed nothing, he took 
 offence at nothing ; but occasionally small matters roused 
 and unreasonably irritated him. An uneasy apprehension 
 in Barbara's mind would not be set at rest. She feared 
 that her father's brain was disturbed, and that at any time, 
 without warning, he might break out into some wild, un- 
 reasonable, possibly dreadful, act, proclaiming to everyone 
 that what she dreaded in secret had come to pass — total 
 derangement. Of late his humour had been especially 
 changeful, but his eldest daughter sought to convince her- 
 self that this could be accounted for by distress at the loss 
 of Eve's dowry. 
 
 Barbara asked her father why he was mowing the grass 
 plot, and when he told her thai Eve had asked him to do 
 bo that she might play bowls that evening on it, she re- 
 monstrated, ' Whom is she to play with ?'
 
 THE SCYTHE OF TIME 141 
 
 ' Jasper Babb has promised her a game. I suppose 
 you and I will be dragged out to make up a party.' 
 
 1 papa, there is no necessity for your mowing ! You 
 do not understand a scythe. Now you are honing the 
 wrong way, blunting, not sharpening, the blade.' 
 
 ' Of course I am wrong. I never do right in your eyes.' 
 
 ' My dear father,' said Barbara, hurt at the injustice of 
 the remark, ' that is not true.' 
 
 ' Then why are you always watching me ? I cannot 
 walk in the garden, I cannot go out of the door, I cannot 
 eat a meal, but your eyes are on me. Is there anything 
 very frightful about me ? Anything very extraordinary ? 
 No — it is not that. I can read the thoughts in your head. 
 You are finding fault with me. I am not doing useful 
 work. I am wasting valuable hours over empty pursuits. 
 I am eating what disagrees with me, too much, or too 
 little. Understand this, once for all. I hate to be 
 watched. Here is a case in point, a proof if one were 
 needed. I came out here to cut this grass, and at once 
 you are after me. You have spied my proceedings. I 
 must not do this. If I sharpen the scythe I am all in the 
 wrong, blunting the blade.' 
 
 The tears filled Barbara's eyes. 
 
 'I am told nothing,' continued Mr. Jordan. 'Every- 
 thing I ought to know is kept concealed from me, and you 
 whisper about me behind my back to Jasper and Mr. 
 Coyshc.' 
 
 ' Indeed, indeed, dear papa ' 
 
 ' It is true. I have seen you talking to Jasper, and I 
 know it was about me. What were you trying to worm 
 out of him about me ? And so with the doctor. You 
 rode with him all the way from Tavistock to the Down the 
 other day ; my left ear was burning that afternoon. What 
 did it burn for ? Because I was being discussed. I object 
 to being made the topic of discussion. Then, when you 
 parted with the doctor, Jasper Babb ran out to meet you, 
 that you might learn from him how I bad behaved, what I
 
 142 EVE 
 
 had done, whilst you were away. I have no rest in my 
 own house becau e of your prying eyes. Will you go now, 
 and leave me.' 
 
 ' I will go now. certainly.' said Barbara, with a gulp in 
 her throat, and swimming eyes. 
 
 ' Stay ! ' he said, as she turned. He stood leaning his 
 elbow on the head of the scythe, balancing it awkwardly. 
 ' I was told nothing of your visit to Buckfastleigh. You told 
 lv> \ and you told Jasper— but I who am most concerned 
 o;!y heard about it by a side-wind. You brought Jasper 
 his fiddle, and when I asked how he had got it, Eve told 
 me. You visited his father. Well ! am I nobody that I 
 am to be kept in the dark ? ' 
 
 ' I have nothing of importance to tell,' said Barbara. 
 ' It is true I saw Mr. Babb, but he would not let me inside 
 his house.' 
 
 ' Tell me, what did that man say about the money ? ' 
 
 ' I do not think there is any chance of his paying un- 
 less he be compelled. He has satisfied his conscience. He 
 put the money away for you, and as it did not reach you 
 the loss is yours, and you must bear it.' 
 
 ' But good heavens ! that is no excuse at all. The base 
 hypocrite ! He is a worse thief than the man who stole 
 the money. He should sell the fields he bought with my 
 loan.' 
 
 ' They were fields useful to him for the stretching of 
 the cloth he wove in his factory.' 
 
 ' Are you trying to justify him for withholding pay- 
 ment ? ' asked Mr. Jordan. 'He is a hypocrite. What 
 was he to cry out against the strange blood, and to curse 
 it ? — he, Ezekiel Babb, in whose veins ran fraud and 
 guile ? ' 
 
 Barbara looked wondcringly at him through the veil of 
 tears that obscured her sight. What did he mean ? 
 
 'He is an old man, papa, but hard as iron. He has 
 v, bite hair, but none of the reverence which clings to age 
 attaches to him.'
 
 THE SCYTHE OF TIME 143 
 
 'White hair I " Mr. Jordan turned the scythe, and 
 frith the point aimed at, missed, aimed at again, and cut 
 down a white-seeded dandelion in the grass. ' That is 
 white, hut the neck is soft, even if the head be hard,' said 
 Mr. Jordan, pointing to the dandelion. ' I wish that were 
 
 his head, and I had cut through his neck. But then ' 
 
 he seemed to fall into a bewildered state — ' the blood should 
 run red — run, run, dribble over the edge, red. This is 
 milky, but acrid.' He recovered himself. ' I have only 
 cut down a head of dandelion.' He reversed the scythe 
 again, and stood leaning his arm on the back of the blade, 
 and staying the handle against his knee. 
 
 ' My dear father, had you not better put the scythe 
 away ? ' 
 
 ' Why should I do that ? I have done no harm with it. 
 No one can set on me for what I have cut with it — only a 
 white old head of dandelion with a soft neck. Think — if 
 it had been Ezekiel Babb's head sticking out of the grass, 
 with the white hair about it, and the sloe-black wicked 
 eyes, and with one cut of the scythe — swish, it had tumbled 
 over, with the stalk upwards, bleeding, bleeding, and the 
 eyes were in the grass, and winking because the daisies 
 teased them and made them water.' 
 
 Barbara was distressed. She must change the current 
 of his thoughts. To do this she caught at the first thing 
 that came into her head. 
 
 ' Papa ! I will tell you what Mr. Coysho was talking 
 to me about. It is quite right, as you say, that you 
 should know all ; it is proper that nothing should be kept 
 from you.' 
 
 ' It is hardly big enough,' said Mr. Jordan. 
 
 1 What, papa ? ' 
 
 ' The dandelion. I can't feel towards it as if it were 
 Mr. Babb's head.' 
 
 'Papa,' said Barbara, speaking rapidly, and eager to 
 divert his mind into another channel, 'papa dear, do you 
 know that the doctor is much attached to our pet ? '
 
 M4 EVE 
 
 'It could not be otherwise. Everyone loves Eve; if 
 they do not, they deserve to die.' 
 
 ' Papa ! He told me as much as that. He admires 
 her greatly, and would dearly like to propose for her, but, 
 though I do not suppose ho is bashful, he is not quite sure 
 that she cares for him.' 
 
 ' Eve shall have whom she will. If she does not like 
 Coyshe, she shall have anyone else.' 
 
 Then he hinted that, though he had no doubt he 
 would make himself a great name in his profession, and in 
 time be very wealthy, that yet he could not afford as he is 
 now circumstanced to marry a wife without means. 
 
 1 There ! there ! ' exclaimed Mr. Jordan, becoming 
 again excited. ' See how the wrong done by Ezekiel Babb 
 is beginning to work. There is a future, a fine future 
 offering for my child, but she cannot accept it. The gate 
 is open, but she may not pass through, because she has 
 not the toll-money in her hand.' 
 
 ' Are you sure, papa, that Mr. Coyshe would make Eve 
 happy ? ' 
 
 ' I am sure of it. What is this place for her ? She 
 should be in the world, be seen and received, and shine. 
 Here she is like one hidden in a nook. She must be 
 brought out, she must be admired by all.' 
 
 'I do not think Eve cares for him.' 
 
 But her father did not hoar her; he went on, and as 
 he spoke his eyes flashed, and spots of dark red colour 
 flared on his cheek-bones. ' There is no chance for poor 
 Eve ! The money is gone past recovery. Her future is 
 for ever blighted. I call on heaven to redress the wrong. 
 I went the other day to Plymouth to hear Mass, and I had 
 but one prayer on my lips, Avenge me on my enemy ! 
 When the choir sang " Gloria in Excclsis, Deo" I heard 
 my heart sing a bass, " On earth a curse on the man of ill- 
 will." When they sang the Hosanna ! I muttered, Cursed 
 is he that cometh to defraud the motherless ! I could not 
 hear the Benedictus. My heart roared out " Imprccatus I
 
 THE SCYTHE OF TIME 145 
 
 Imprccatus sit ! " I can pray nothing else. All my 
 prayers turn sour in my throat, and I taste them like gall 
 on my tongue.' 
 
 ' papa ! this is horrible 1 " 
 
 Now he rested both his elbows on the back of the blade 
 and raised his hands, trembling with passion, as if in 
 prayer. His long thin hair, instead of hanging lank about 
 his head, seemed to bristle with electric excitement, his 
 cheeks and lips quivered. Barbara had never seen him so 
 greatly moved as now, and she did not know what to do to 
 pacify him. She feared lest any intervention might exas- 
 perate him further. 
 
 ' I pray,' he began, in a low, vibrating monotone, ' I 
 pray to the God of justice, who protecteth the orphan and 
 the oppressed, that He may cause the man that sinned to 
 suffer ; that He will whet his gleaming sword, and smite 
 and not spare — smite and not spare the guilty.' His voice 
 rose in tone and increased in volume. Barbara looked 
 round, in hopes of seeing Eve, trusting that the sight of 
 her might soothe her father, and yet afraid of her sister 
 seeing him in this condition. 
 
 'There was a time, seventeen years ago,' continued 
 Mr. Jordan, not noticing Barbara, looking before him as 
 if he saw something far beyond the boundary walls of the 
 house, ' there was a time when he lifted up his hand and 
 voice to curse my child. I saw the black cross, and the 
 shadow of Eve against it, and he with his cruel black 
 hands held her there, nailed her with his black fingers to 
 the black cross. And now I lift my soul and my hands to 
 God against him. I cry to Heaven to avenge the innocent. 
 Raise Thy arm and Thy glittering blade, Lord, and 
 smite ! ' 
 
 Suddenly the scythe slipped from under his elbows. 
 He uttered a sharp cry, staggered back and fell. 
 
 As he lay on the turf, Barbara saw a dark red stain 
 ooze from his right side, and spread as ink on blotting- 
 paper. The point of the scythe had entered his side. Ho 
 
 r,
 
 146 EVE 
 
 put liis hand to the wound, and then looked at his palm, 
 His face turned livid. At that moment, just as Barbara 
 sprang to her father, having recovered from the momen- 
 tary paralysis of terror, Eve bounded from the hall-door, 
 holding a ball over her head in both her hands, and shout- 
 ing joyously, ' I have the Jack ! I have the Jack I ' 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE KED STREAK. 
 
 Baubaua was not a girl to allow precious moments to be 
 lost ; instead of giving way to emotion and exclamations, 
 she knelt and tore off her father's waistcoat, ripped his 
 shirt, and found a gash under the rib ; tearing off her 
 kerchief she ran, sopped it in cold water, and held it 
 tightly to the wound. 
 
 1 Run, Eve, run, summon help ! ' she cried. But Eve 
 was powerless to be of assistance ; she had turned white 
 to the lips, had staggered back to the door, and sent the 
 Jack rolling over the turf to her father's feet. 
 
 ' I am faint,' gasped poor Eve. ' I cannot see blood.' 
 
 ' You must,' exclaimed Barbara, ' command yourself. 
 Ring the alarm bell : Jasper — someone— will hear.' 
 
 ' The power is gone from my arms,' sobbed Eve, 
 shivering. 
 
 ' Call one of the maids. Bid her ring,' ordered the 
 elder. 
 
 Eve, holding the sides of the door to prevent herself 
 from falling, deadly white, with knees that yielded under 
 her, staggered into the house. 
 
 Presently the old bell hung in a pent-house over the 
 roof of the chapel began to give tongue. 
 
 Barbara, kneeling behind her father, raised his head 
 on her bosom, and held her kerchief to his side. Th« 
 lirst token of returning consciousness was given by his
 
 THE RED STREAK i 47 
 
 hands, which clutched at some grass he had cut. Then 
 he opened his eyes. 
 
 « Why is the hell tolling ? ' 
 
 1 Dear papa ! it is calling for help. You must be 
 moved. You are badly hurt.' 
 
 ' I feel it. In my side. How was it ? I do not re- 
 member. Ah ! the scythe. Has the blade cut deep ? ' 
 
 ' I cannot tell, papa, till the doctor comes. Are you 
 easier now ? ' 
 
 ' You did it. Interfering with me when I was mowing. 
 Teasing me. You will not leave me alone. You are 
 always watching me. You wanted to take the scythe 
 from me. If you had left me alone this would not have 
 happened.' 
 
 ' Never mind, darling papa, how it happened. Now 
 we must do our best to cure you.' 
 
 I Am I badly hurt ? "What are these women coming 
 crowding round me for ? I do not want the maids here. 
 Drive them back, Barbara.' 
 
 Barbara made a sign to the cook and house and kitchen 
 maids to stand back. 
 
 ' You must be moved to your room, papa.' 
 ' Am I dying, Barbara ? ' 
 
 I I hope and trust not, dear.' 
 
 ' I cannot die without speaking ; but I will not speak 
 till I am on the point of death.' 
 
 ' Do not speak, father, at all now.' 
 
 He obeyed and remained quiet, with his eyes looking 
 up at the sky. Thus he lay till Jasper arrived breathless. 
 He had heard the bell, and had run, suspecting somo 
 disaster. 
 
 1 Let me carry him, with one of the maids,' said 
 Jasper, 
 
 ' No,' answered Barbara. • You shall take his shoulders, 
 I his feet. We will carry him on a mattress. Cook and 
 Jane have brought one. Help me to raise him on to it.' 
 
 Jasper was the man she wanted, He did not lose his 
 
 L 2
 
 i 4 8 EVE 
 
 head, lie did not ask questions, Low the accident had 
 happened ; he did not waste words in useless lamentation. 
 He sent a maid at once to the stable to saddle the horse. 
 A girl, in the country, can saddle and bridle as well as a boy. 
 
 ' I am off for the doctor,' ho said shortly, as soon as 
 he bad seen Mr. Jordan removed to the same downstairs 
 room in which he had so recently lain himself. 
 
 ' Send for the lawyer,' said Mr. Jordan, who had lain 
 with his eyes shut. 
 
 ' The lawyer, papa ! ' 
 
 1 1 must make my will. I might die, and then what 
 would become of Eve ? ' 
 
 ' Ride on to Tavistock after you have summoned Mr. 
 Coyshe,' said Barbara. 
 
 When Jasper was gone, Eve, who had been fluttering 
 about the door, came in, and threw herself sobbing on 
 her knees by her father's bed. He put out his hand, 
 stroked her brow, and called her tender names. 
 
 She was in great distress, reproaching herself for 
 having asked him to mow the grass for her ; she charged 
 herself with having wounded him. 
 
 1 No — no, Eve ! ' said her father. ' It was not your 
 fault. Barbara would not let me alone. She interfered, 
 and I lost my balance.' 
 
 ' I am so glad it was not I,' sobbed Eve. 
 
 'Let me look at you. Stand up,' he said. 
 
 She rose, but averted her face somewhat, so as not to 
 see the blood on the sheet. He had been caressing her. 
 Now, as he looked at her, he saw a red streak across her 
 forehead. 
 
 ' My child ! what is that ? You are hurt ! Barbara, 
 help ! She is bleeding.' 
 
 Barbara looked. 
 
 'It i3 nothing,' she said; 'your hand, papa, has left 
 some of its stains on her brow. Come with me, Eve, and 
 I will wash it clean.' 
 
 The colour died completely out of Eve's face, and she
 
 THE RED STREAK 149 
 
 seemed again about to faint. Barbara hastily bathed a 
 napkin in fresh water, and removed all traces of blood 
 from her forehead, and then kissed it. 
 
 ' Is it gone ? ' whispered Eve. 
 
 « Entirely.' 
 
 1 1 feel it still. I cannot remain here.' Then the 
 young girl crept out of the room, hardly able to sustain 
 herself on her feet. 
 
 When Barbara was alone with her father, she said to 
 him, in her quiet, composed tones, ' Papa, though I do not 
 in the least think this wound will prove fatal, I am glad 
 you have sent for Lawyer Knighton, because you ought 
 to make your will, and provide for Eve. I made up my 
 mind to speak to you when I was on my way home from 
 Ashburton.' 
 
 ' Well, what have you to say ? ' 
 
 ' Papa ! I've been thinking that as the money laid by 
 for Eve is gone for ever, and as my aunt has left me a 
 little more than sixteen hundred pounds, you ought to 
 give Morwell to Eve - that is, for the rest of your term of 
 it, some sixty-three years, I think. If you like to make a 
 little charge on it for me, do so, but do not let it be much. 
 I shall not require much to make me happy. ' I shall never 
 marry. If I had a good deal of money it is possible some 
 man would be base enough to want to marry me for it ; 
 but if I have only a little, no one will think of asking me. 
 There is no one whom I care for whom I would dream of 
 taking — under no circumstances — nothing would move me 
 to it — nothing. And as an old maid, what could I do with 
 this property ? Eve must marry. Indeed, she can have 
 almost anyone she likes. I do not think she cares for the 
 doctor, but there must be some young squire about here 
 who would suit her.' 
 
 'Yes, Barbara, you are right.' 
 
 ' I am glad you think so,' she said, smiled, and 
 coloured, pleased with his commendation, so rarely won. 
 ' No one can see Eve without loving her. I have my little
 
 t,o 
 
 EVE 
 
 scheme. Captain Cloberry is coming home from the army 
 this ensuing autumn, and if he is as nice as his sisters 
 say — then something may come of it. But I do not know 
 whether Eve cares or does not care for Mr. Coyshe. He 
 has not spoken to her yet. I think, papa, it would be well 
 to let him and everyone know that Morwell is not to come 
 to me, but is to go to Eve. Then everyone will know what 
 
 to expect. 
 
 ' It shall bo so. If Mr. Knighton comes, I will get the 
 doctor to be in the room when I make my will, and Jasper 
 13abb also.' He considered for a while, and then said, 
 ' In spite of all — there is good in you, Barbara. I forgive 
 you my wound. There — you may kiss me.' 
 
 As Barbara wished, and Mr. Jordan intended,, so was 
 the will executed. Mr. Knighton, the solicitor, arrived at 
 the same time as the surgeon ; he waited till Mr. Coyshe 
 had bandaged up the wound, and then he entered the sick 
 man's room, summoned by Barbara. 
 
 ' My second daughter,' said Mr. Jordan, ' is, in the eye 
 of the law, illegitimate. My elder daughter has urged me 
 to do what I likewise feel to be right— to leave my title to 
 Morwell estate to Eve.' 
 
 ' What is her surname — I mean her mother's name ? ' 
 
 ' That you need not know. I leave Morwell to my 
 daughter Eve, commonly called Eve Jordan. That is 
 Barbara's wish.' 
 
 ' I urged it on my father,' said Barbara. 
 
 Jasper, who had been called in, looked into her face 
 with an expression of admiration. She resented it, frowned, 
 and averted her head. 
 
 When the will had been properly executed, the doctor 
 left the room with Jasper. He had already given his in- 
 structions to Barbara how Mr. Jordan was to be treated. 
 Outside the door he foun 1 Eve fluttering, nervous, alarmed, 
 entreating to be reassured as to her father's condition. 
 
 ' Dear Barbie disturbed him whilst he was mowing,' 
 Bhe said, ' and he let the scythe slip, and so got hurt.' She
 
 THE RED STREAK 151 
 
 was readily consoled when assured that the old gentleman 
 lay in no immediate danger. He must, however, he kept 
 quiet, and not allowed to leave his bed for some time. 
 Then Eve bounded away, light as a roe. The reaction set 
 in at once. She was like a cork in water, that can only 
 be kept depressed by force ; remove the pressure and the 
 cork leaps to the surface again. 
 
 Such was her nature. She could not help it. 
 
 ' Mr. Jasper,' said the surgeon, ' I have never gone 
 over this property. If you have a spare hour and would 
 do me a favour, I should like to look about me. Tha 
 quality of the land is good ? ' 
 
 ' Excellent.' 
 
 ' Is there anywhere a map of the property that I could 
 run my eye over ? ' 
 
 ' In the study.' 
 
 4 What about the shooting, now ? ' 
 
 ' It is not preserved. If it were it would be good, the 
 cover is so fine.' 
 
 ' And there seems to be a good deal of timber.' 
 
 After about an hour Mr. Ooyshe rode away. ' Some 
 men are Cyclopses, as far as their own interests are con- 
 cerned,' said he to himself ; ' they carry but a single eye. 
 I invariably use two.' 
 
 In the evening, when Barbara came to her sister's 
 room to tell her that she intended to sit up during the 
 night with her father, she said : ' Mr. Jasper is very kind. 
 He insists on taking half the watch, ho will relieve me at 
 two o'clock. What is the matter with you, Eve ? ' 
 
 ' I can see nothing, Barbie, but it is there still.' 
 
 « What is ? ' 
 
 1 That red mark. I have been rubbing, and washing, 
 and it burns like fire.' 
 
 • I can see, my dear Eve, that where you have rubbed 
 your pretty white delicate skin, you have made it red.' 
 
 ' I have rubbed it in. I feel it. I cannot get the feel 
 awav. It stains me. It hurts me. It burns me.'
 
 >52 EVE 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A EUNCH OP KOSES. 
 
 Me. Jordan's wound was not dangerous, but the strictest 
 rest was enjoined. He must keep his bed for some days. 
 As when Jasper was ill, so now that her father was an 
 invalid, the principal care devolved on Barbara. No 
 reliance could be placed on Eve, who was willing enough, 
 but too thoughtless and forgetful to be trusted. When 
 Barbara returned from Ashburton she found her store 
 closet in utter confusion : bags of groceries opened and 
 not tied up again, bottles of sauces upset and broken, 
 coffee berries and rice spilled over the floor, lemons with 
 the sugar, become mouldy, and dissolving the sugar. The 
 linen cupboard was in a similar disorder : sheets pulled 
 out and thrust back unfolded in a crumpled heap, pillow- 
 cases torn up for dusters, blankets turned out and left in a 
 damp place, where the moth had got to them. Now, 
 rather than give the keys to Eve, Barbara retained them, 
 and was kept all day engaged without a moment's cessa- 
 tion. She was not able to sit much with her father, but 
 Eve could do that, and her presence soothed the sick man. 
 Eve, however, would not remain long in the room with 
 her father. She was restless, her spirits flagged, and Mr. 
 Jordan himself insisted on her going out. Then she would 
 run to Jasper Babb, if he were near. She had taken a 
 great fancy to him. He was kind to her ; he treated her 
 as a child, and accommodated himself to her humours. 
 Barbara could not now bs with her. Besides, Barbara 
 had not that craving for colour and light, and melody and 
 poetry, that formed the very core of Eve's soul. The elder 
 sister was severely practical. She liked what was beauti- 
 ful, as a well-educated young lady is required by society 
 to have such a liking, but it was not instinctive in her,
 
 A BUNCH OF ROSES 153 
 
 it was in no way a passion. Jasper, on the other hand, 
 responded to the aesthetic longings of Eve. He could 
 sympathise with her raptures ; Barbara laughed at them. 
 It is said that everyone sees his own rainbow, but there 
 are many who are colour-blind and see no rainbows, only 
 raindrops. Wherever Eve looked she saw rainbows. 
 Jasper had a strong fibre of poetry in him, and he was 
 able to read the girl's character and understand the un- 
 certain aspirations of her heart. He thought that Bar- 
 bara was mistaken in laughing down and showing no 
 interest in her enthusiasms, and he sought to give her 
 vague aspirations some direction, and her cravings some 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Eve appreciated his efforts. She saw that ho under- 
 stood her, which Barbara did not ; she and Jasper had a 
 world of ideas in common from which her sister was shut 
 out. Eve took great delight in talking to Jasper, but her 
 chief delight was in listening to him when he played the 
 violin, or in accompanying him on the piano. Old violin 
 music was routed out of the cupboards, fresh was ordered. 
 Jasper introduced her to a great deal of very beautiful 
 classical music of which she was ignorant. Hitherto she 
 had been restrained to a few meagre collections : the 
 ' Musical Treasury,' the ' Sacred Harmonist,' and the like. 
 Now, with her father's consent, she ordered the operas of 
 Mozart, Beethoven's sonatas, Bossini, Boieldicu, and was 
 guided, a ready pupil, by Jasper into this new and en- 
 chanted world. By this means Jasper gave Eve an 
 interest, which hitherto she had lacked — a pursuit which 
 she followed with eagerness. 
 
 Barbara was dissatisfied. She thought Jasper was 
 encouraging Eve in her frivolity, was diverting her from 
 the practical aims of life. She was angry with Jasper, 
 and misinterpreted his motives. The friendship subsist- 
 ing between her sister and the young steward was too 
 warm. How far would it go ? How was it to be arrested ? 
 Eve was inexperienced and wilful. Before sho knew
 
 F54 EVE 
 
 where she was, Jasper would have gained her young heart. 
 She was so headstrong that Barbara doubted whether a 
 word of caution would avail anything. Nevertheless, con- 
 vinced that it was her duty to interfere, she did speak, 
 and, of course, gained nothing by so doing. Barbara 
 lacked tact. She spoke to Eve plainly, but guardedly. 
 
 'Why, Bab! what are you thinking of? Why should 
 I not bo with Mr. Jasper ? ' answered Eve to her sister's 
 expostulation. 'I like him vastly; ho talks delightfully, 
 he knows so much about music, he plays and sings the 
 tears into my eyes, and sets my feet tingling to daiife. 
 Papa docs not object. When we are practising I leave the 
 parlour door open for papa to hear. He says he enjoys 
 listening. Oh, Barbie ! I wish you loved music as I do. 
 But as you don't, let me go my way with the music, and 
 you go your way with the groceries.' 
 
 ' My dearest sister,' said Barbara, ' I do not think it 
 looks well to see you running after Mr. Jasper.' 
 
 ' Looks well ! ' repeated Eve. ' Who is to see me ? 
 Morwell is quite out of the world. Besides,' she screwed 
 up her pretty mouth to a pout, ' I don't run after him, he 
 runs after me, of course.' 
 
 ' My dear, dear Eve,' said Barbara earnestly, ' you 
 must not suffer him to do so.' 
 
 ' Why not ? ' asked Eve frankly. ' You like Ponto and 
 puss to run after you, and the little black calf, and the 
 pony in the paddock. What is the difference ? You care 
 for one sort of animals, and I for another. I detest dogs 
 and cats and bullocks.' 
 
 'Eve, sweetheart ' — poor Barbara felt her powerlessness 
 to carry her point, even to make an impression, but in her 
 conscientiousness believed herself bound to go on — ' your 
 conduct is indiscreet. We must never part with our self- 
 respect. That is the guardian angel given to girls by God.' 
 
 'Oh, Bab! ' Eve burst out laughing. 'What a dear, 
 grave old Mother Hubbard you are! I am always doing, 
 and always will do, exactly opposite to what you intend
 
 A BUNCH OF HOSES 155 
 
 and expect. I know why you are lecturing me now. I 
 will tell Mr. Jasper how jealous you have become.' 
 
 ' For heaven's sake ! ' exclaimed Barbara, springing to 
 her feet — she had been sitting beside Eve — ' do nothing 
 of the sort. Do not mention my name to him. I 
 am not jealous. It is an insult to me to make such a 
 suggestion. Do I ever seek his company ? Do I not shun 
 it ? No, Eve, I am moved only by uneasiness for you. 
 You are thoughtless, and are playing a dangerous game 
 with that man. When he sees how you seek his society, 
 it flatters him, and his vanity will lead him to think of 
 you with more warmth than is well. Understand this, 
 Eve — there is a bar between him and you which should 
 make the man keep his distance, and he shows a wicked 
 want of consideration when he draws near you, relying on 
 your ignorance.' 
 
 ' What are you hinting at ? ' 
 
 ' I cannot speak out as I wish, but I assure you of this, 
 Eve, unless you are more careful of your conduct, I shall 
 be forced to take steps to get Jasper Babb dismissed.' 
 
 Eve laughed, clapped her hands on her sister's cheeks, 
 kissed her lips and said, ' You dear old Mother Hubbard, 
 you can't do it. Papa would not listen to you if I told 
 him that I wanted Jasper to stay.' 
 
 Barbara was hurt. This was true, but it was unkind 
 of Eve to say it. The young girl was herself aware that 
 she had spoken unfeelingly, was sorry, and tried to make 
 amends by coaxing her sister. 
 
 'I want you to tell me,' said Barbara, very gravely, 
 'for you have not told me yet, who gave you the ring?' 
 
 ' I did not tell you because you said you knew. No one 
 carries water to the sea or coals to Newcastle.' 
 
 *Bo candid with me, Eve.' 
 
 'Am not I open as the day? Why should you com- 
 plain?' 
 
 'Eve, be serious. Was it Mr. Jasper who gave you 
 the turquoise ring ?'
 
 156 EVE 
 
 'Jasper !* Eve held out her skirts daintily, and danced 
 and made curtsies round her sister, in the prettiest, most 
 coquettish, laughing way. 'You dearest, you best, you 
 most jealous of sisters ; we will not quarrel over poor good 
 Jasper. I don't mind how much you pet the black calf. 
 How absurd you are ! You make me laugh sometimes at 
 your density. There, do not cry. I would tell you all if 
 I dared.' Then warbling a strain, and still holding her 
 skirts out, she danced as in a minuet, slowly out of the 
 room, looking back over her shoulder at her distressed 
 sister. 
 
 That was all Barbara had got by speaking— nothing, 
 absolutely nothing. She knew that Eve would not be one 
 wit more guarded in her conduct for what had been said 
 to her. Barbara revolved in her mind the threat she 
 had rashly made of driving Jasper away. That would 
 necessitate the betrayal of his secret. Could she bring 
 herself to this? Hardly. No, the utmost she could do 
 was to threaten him that, unless he voluntarily departed, 
 she would reveal the secret to her father. 
 
 A day or two after this scene, Barbara was again put 
 to great distress by Eve's conduct. 
 
 She knew well enough that she and her sister were 
 invited to the Cloberrys to an afternoon party and dance. 
 Eve had written and accepted before the accident to Mr. 
 Jordan. Barbara had let her write, because she was 
 herself that day much engaged and could not spare time. 
 The groom had ridden over from Bradstone manor, and 
 was waiting for an answer, just whilst Barbara was 
 weighing out sago and tapioca. When Mr. Jordan was hurt, 
 Barbara had wished to send a boy to Bradstone with a letter 
 declining the party, but Mr. Coyshe had said that her father 
 was not in danger, had insisted on Eve promising him a 
 couple of dances, and had so strictly combated her desiro 
 to withdraw that she had given way. 
 
 In the afternoon, when the girls were ready to go, they 
 came downstairs to kiss their father, and let him see them
 
 A BUNCH OF ROSES 157 
 
 in their pretty dresses. The little carriage was at the 
 door. 
 
 In the hall they met Jasper Bahb, also dressed for the 
 party. He held in his hands two lovely bouquets, one of 
 yellow tea-scented roses, which he handed to Barbara, the 
 other of Malmaison, delicate white, with a soft inner blush, 
 which he offered to Eve. "Whence had he procured them? 
 No doubt he had been for them to a nursery at Tavistock. 
 
 Eve was in raptures over her Malmaison ; it was a new 
 rose, quite recently introduced, and she had never seen it 
 before. She looked at it, uttered exclamations of delight, 
 smelt at the flowers, then ran off to her father that she 
 might show him her treasures. 
 
 Barbara thanked Jasper somewhat stiffly; she was 
 puzzled. Why was he dressed? 
 
 'Are you going to ride, or to drive us?' asked Eve, 
 skipping into the hall again. She had put her bunch in 
 her girdle. She was charmingly dressed, with rose satin 
 ribands in her hair, about her throat, round her waist. 
 Her face was, in colour, itself like a souvenir de la 
 Malmaison rose. 
 
 'Whom are you addressing? ' asked Barbara seriously. 
 
 'I am speaking to Jasper,' answered Eve. 
 
 ' Mr. Jasper,' said Barbara, ' was not invited to Brad- 
 stone.' 
 
 ' Oh, that docs not matter ! ' said the ready Eve. ' I ac- 
 cepted for him. You know, dear Bab — I mean Barbie — 
 that I had to write, as you were up to your neck in tapioca. 
 Well, at these parties there are so many girls and so few 
 gentlemen, that I thought I would give the Cloberry girls 
 and Mr. Jasper a pleasure at once, so I wrote to say that 
 you and I accepted and would bring with us a young gentle- 
 man, a friend of papa, who was staying in the house. 
 Mr. Jasper ought to know the neighbours, and get some 
 pleasure.' 
 
 Barbara was acrhast. 
 
 ' I think, Miss Eve, you have been playing tricks with
 
 158 EVE 
 
 me,' said Jasper. ' Surely I understood you that I had 
 heen specially invited, and that you had accordingly ac- 
 cepted for me.' 
 
 ' Did I?' asked Eve carelessly; 'it is all the same. The 
 Cloberry girls will be delighted to see you. Last lime I 
 was there they said they hoped to have an afternoon dance, 
 hut were troubled how to find gentlemen as partners for 
 all the pretty Misses.' 
 
 ' That being so,' said Barbara sternly, turning a 1 she 
 spoke to Jasper, ' of course you do not go ? ' 
 
 ' Not go ! ' exclaimed Eve ; ' to be sure he goes. We 
 are engaged to each other for a score of dances.' Then, 
 seeing the gloom gathering on her sister's brow, she ex- 
 plained, ' It is a plan between us so as to get free from 
 Doctor Squash. When Squash asks my hand, I can say I 
 am engaged. I have been booked by him for two dances, 
 and he shall have no more.' 
 
 ' You have been inconsiderate,' said Barbara. ' Unfor- 
 tunately Mr. Babb cannot leave Morwell, as my father is 
 in his bed— it is not possible.' 
 
 • I have no desire to go,' said Jasper. 
 
 ' I do not suppose you have,' said Barbara haughtily, 
 turning to him. ' You arc judge of what is right and fit- 
 ting — ■ in every way.' 
 
 Then Eve's temper broke out. Her cheeks flushed, her 
 lips quivered, and the tears started into her eyes. ' I will 
 not allow Mr. Jasper to be thus treated,' she exclaimed. 
 ' I cannot understand you, Barbie ; how can you, who are 
 usually so considerate, grudge Mr. Jasper a little pleasure? 
 He has been working hard for papa, and he has been kind 
 to me, and he has made your garden pretty, and now you 
 are mean and ungrateful, and send him back to his room 
 when he is dressed for the party. I'll go and ask papa to 
 interfere.' 
 
 Then she ran off to her father's room. 
 
 The moment Eve was out of hearing, Barbara's anger 
 blazed forth. ' You are not acting right. You forget your
 
 A BUNCH OF ROSES 159 
 
 position ; you forget who you are. How dare you allow 
 
 my sister ? If you had a spark of honour, a grain of 
 
 good feeling in your heart, you would keep her at arm's 
 length. She is a child, inconsiderate and confiding ; you 
 are a man with such a foul stain on your name, that you 
 must not conic near those who are clean, lest you smirch 
 them. Keep to yourself, sir ! Away ! ' 
 
 ' Miss Jordan,' he answered, with a troubled expression 
 on his face and a quiver in his voice, ' you are hard on me. 
 I had no desire whatever to go to this dance, hut Miss Eve 
 told me it was arranged that I was to go, and I am obedi- 
 ent in this house. Of course, now I withdraw.' 
 
 1 Of course you do. Good heavens ! In a few days 
 some chance might bring all to light, and then it would 
 be the scandal of the neighbourhood that wo had intro- 
 duced — that Eve had danced with — an escaped jail-bird— 
 a vulgar thief.' 
 
 She walked out through the door, and threw the bunch 
 of yellow roses upon the plot of grass in the quadrangle. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 WHERE THEY WITHERED. 
 
 Barbara did not enjoy the party at the Cloberrys. She 
 was dull and abstracted. It was otherwise with Eve. 
 During the drive she had sulked; she was in a pet with 
 Barbara, who was a stupid, tiresome marplot. But when 
 she arrived at Bradstone and was surrounded by admirers, 
 when she had difficulty, not in getting partners, but in 
 selecting among those who pressed themselves on her, 
 Eve's spirits were elated. She forgot about Jasper, Bar- 
 bara, her father, about everything but present delight. 
 With sparkling eyes, heightened colour, and dimples that 
 came and went in her smiling face, she sailed past Barbai a
 
 160 EVE 
 
 without observing licr, engrossed in the pleasure of the 
 dance, and in playing with her partner. 
 
 Barbara was content to be unnoticed. She sat by her- 
 self in a corner, scarce noticing what went on, so wrapped 
 up was she in her thoughts. Her mood was observed by 
 her hostess, and atrributed to anxiety for her father. Mrs. 
 Cloberry went to her, seated herself at her side, and talked 
 to her kindly about Mr. Jordan and his accident. 
 
 • You have a friend stajing with you. We rather ex- 
 pected him,' said Mrs. Cloberry. 
 
 ' Oh ! ' Barbara answered, ' that was dear Eve's non- 
 sense. She is a child, and does not think. My father has 
 engaged a steward ; of course he could not come.' 
 
 ' How lovely Eve is ! ' said Mrs. Cloberry. ' I think I 
 never saw so exquisite a creature.' 
 
 1 And she is as good and sweet as she is lovely,' an- 
 swered Barbara, always eager to sing her sister's praises. 
 
 Eve's roses were greatly admired. She had her posy 
 out of her waistband showing the roses, and many a com- 
 pliment was occasioned by them. ' Barbara had a beauti- 
 full bouquet also,' she said, and looked round. * Oh, Bab ! 
 where are your yellow roses ? ' 
 
 ' I have dropped them,' answered Barbara. 
 
 Besides dancing there was singing. Eve required little 
 pressing. 
 
 ' My dear Miss Jordan,' said Mrs. Cloberry, ' how your 
 Bister has improved in style. Who has been giving her 
 lessons ? ' 
 
 The party was a pleasant one ; it broke up early. It 
 began at four o'clock and was over when the sun set. As 
 the sisters drove home, Eve prattled as a brook over stones. 
 She had perfectly enjoyed herself. She had outshone every 
 girl present, had been much courted and greatly flattered. 
 Eve was not a vain girl ; she knew she was pretty, and 
 accepted homage as her right. Her father and sister had 
 ever been her slaves; and she expected to find everyone 
 wear chains before her. But there was no vulgar conceit
 
 WHERE THEY WITHERED 161 
 
 about her. A queen born to wear the crown grows up to 
 expect reverence and devotion. It is her due. So with 
 Eve ; she had been a queen in Morwell since infancy. 
 
 Barbara listened to her talk and answered her in mono- 
 syllables, but her mind was not with the subject of Eve's 
 conversation. She was thinking then, and she had been 
 thinking at Bradstone, whilst the floor throbbed with danc- 
 ing feet, whilst singers were performing, of that bouquet of 
 yellow roses which she had flung away. Was it still lying 
 on the grass in the quadrangle ? Had Jane, the housemaid, 
 seen it, picked it up, and taken it to adorn the kitchen 
 table ? 
 
 She knew that Jasper must have taken a long walk to 
 procure those two bunches of roses. She knew that he 
 could ill afford the expense. When he was ill, she had put 
 aside his little purse containing his private money, and had 
 counted it, to make sure that none was lost or taken. She 
 knew that he was poor. Out of the small sum he owned 
 he must have paid a good deal for these roses. 
 
 She had thrown her bunch away in angry scorn, under 
 his eyes. She had been greatly provoked ; bufe — had she 
 behaved in a ladylike and Christian spirit ? She might . 
 have left her roses in a tumbler in the parlour or the hall. 
 That would have been a courteous rebuff — but to fling 
 them away ! 
 
 There are as many conflicting currents in the human 
 soul as in the ocean ; some run from east to west, and 
 some from north to south, some are sweet and some bitter, 
 some hot and others cold. Only in the Sargasso Sea are 
 there no currents — and that is a sea of weeds. What we 
 believe to-day we reject to-morrow ; we are resentful at 
 one moment over a wrong inflicted, and are repentant tho 
 next for having been ourselves the wrong-doer. Barbara 
 had been in iiery indignation at three o'clock against 
 Jasper ; by five she was cooler, and by six reproached 
 herself. 
 
 As the sisters drove into the little quadrangle, Barbara 
 
 u
 
 1 62 EVE 
 
 turned lier head aside, and whilst she made as though she 
 were unwinding the knitted shawl that was wrapt ahout 
 her head, she looked across the turf, and saw lying, where 
 she had cast it, the bunch of roses. 
 
 The stable-boy came with his lantern to take the horse 
 and carriage, and the sisters dismounted. Jane appeared 
 at the hall door to divest them of their wraps. 
 
 ' How is papa ? ' asked Eve ; then, without waiting for 
 an answer, she ran into her father's room to kiss him and 
 tell him of the party, and show herself again in her pretty 
 dress, and again receive his words of praise and love. 
 
 But Barbara remained at the door, leisurely folding 
 her cloak. Then she put both her own and her sister's 
 parasols together in the stand. Then she stood brushing 
 her soles on the mat — quite unnecessarily, as they were 
 not dirty. 
 
 ' You may go away, Jane,' said Barbara to the maid, 
 who lingered at the door. 
 
 'Please, Miss, I'm waiting for you to come in, that I 
 may lock up.' 
 
 Then Barbara was obliged to enter. 
 
 ' Has Mr. Babb been with my father ? ' she asked. 
 
 ' No, Miss. I haven't seen him since you left.' 
 
 4 You may go to bed, Jane. It is washing-day to- 
 morrow, and you will have to be up at four. Has not 
 Mr. Babb had his supper ? ' 
 
 ' No, Miss. He has not been here at all.' 
 
 1 That will do.' She signed the maid to leave. 
 
 She stood in the hall, hesitating. Should she unbar 
 the door and go out and recover the roses ? Eve would 
 leave her father's room in a moment, and ask questions 
 which it would be inconvenient to answer. Let them lie. 
 She went upstairs with her sister, after having wished her 
 father good-night. 
 
 ' Barbie, dear ! ' said Eve, ' did you observe Mr* 
 Squash ? ' 
 
 'Do not, Eve. That is not his name.'
 
 WHERE THEi- WITHERED 163 
 
 ' I think he looked a little disconcerted. I repudiated.' 
 
 1 What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' I refused to be bound by the engagements we had 
 made for a quadrille and a waltz. I did not want to dance 
 with him, and I did not.' 
 
 'Run back into your room, darling, and go to bed.' 
 
 When Barbara was alone she went to her window and 
 opened it. The window looked into the court. If she 
 leaned her head out far, she could see where the bunch of 
 ."•oses ought to be. But she could not see them, though 
 she looked, for the grass lay dusk in the shadows. The 
 moon was rising, and shone on the long roof like steel, and 
 the light was creeping down the wall. That long roof was 
 over the washhouse, and next morning at early dawn the 
 maids would cross the quadrangle with the linen and carry 
 fuel, and would either trample on or pick up and appro- 
 priate the bunch of yellow roses. 
 
 Barbara remembered every word that she had said to 
 Jasper. She could not forget — and now could not forgive 
 herself. Her words had been cruel ; how they must have 
 wounded him ! He had not been seen since. Perhaps he 
 was gone and would not return again. They and she 
 would see him no more. That would be well in one way, 
 it would relieve her of anxiety about Eve ; but, on the 
 other hand, Jasper had proved himself most useful, and, 
 above all — he was repentant. Her treatment of him might 
 make him desperate, and cause him to abandon his reso- 
 lutions to amend. Barbara knelt at the window, and 
 prayed. 
 
 The white owls were flying about the old house. They 
 had their nests in the great barn. The bats were squeak- 
 ing as they whisked across the quadrangle, hunting gnats. 
 
 When Barbara rose from her knees her eyes were 
 moist. She stood on tiptoe and looked forth from the 
 casement again. The moonlight had reached the sward, 
 drawing a sharp line of light across it, broken by one 
 brighter speck — the bunch of roses. 
 
 M 2
 
 164 EVB 
 
 Then Barbara, without licr shoes, stole downstairs. 
 There was sufficient light in the hall for her to find her 
 way across it to the main door. She very softly unbarred 
 it, and still in her stockings, unshod, went out on the 
 doorstep, over the gravel, the dewy grass, and picked up 
 the cold wet bunch. 
 
 Then she slipped in again, refastened the door, and 
 with beating heart regained her room. 
 
 Now that she had the roses, what should she do with 
 them ? She stood in the middle of her room near the 
 caudle, looking at them. They were not much faded. 
 The sun had not reached them, and the cool grass had 
 kept them fresh. They were very delicately formed, lovely 
 roses, and freshly sweet. "What should she do with them? 
 1 i they were put in a tumbler they would flourish for a few 
 days, and then the leaves would fall off, and leave a dead 
 cluster of seedless rose-hearts. 
 
 Barbara had a desk that had belonged to her mother, 
 and this desk had in it a secret drawer. In this drawer 
 Barbara preserved a few special treasures ; a miniature of 
 her mother, a silver cold-cream capsule with the head of 
 Queen Anne on it, that had belonged to her grandmother, 
 the ring of brilliants and sapphire that had come to her 
 from her aunt, and a lock of Eve's hair when she was a 
 baby. Barbara folded the roses in a sheet of white paper, 
 wrote in pencil on it the date, and placed them in the 
 secret drawer, there to wither along with the greatest 
 treasures she possessed. 
 
 Barbara's heart was no Sargasso Sea. In it ran cur- 
 rents strong and contrary. What she cast away with 
 scorn in the afternoon, she sought and hid as a treasure in 
 the night.
 
 s6$ 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 LEAH AND KACIIEL. 
 
 Sunday was a quiet day at Monvell. As the Jordans were 
 Catholics they did not attend their parish church, which 
 was Tavistock, some four miles distant. The servants 
 went, or pretended to go. Morwell was quiet on all days, 
 it was most quiet of all on a bright Sunday, for then there 
 were fewest people about the old house. 
 
 Jasper Babb had not run away, offended at Barbara's 
 rudeness. He went about his work as usual, was as little 
 seen of the sisters as might be, and silent when in their 
 company. 
 
 On Sunday evening Barbara and Eve strolled out to- 
 gether ; it was their wont to do so on that day, when tho 
 weather permitted. Jane, the housemaid, was at homo 
 with their father. 
 
 They directed their steps as usual to the Raven Rock, 
 which commanded so splendid a view to the west, was so 
 airy, and so sunny a spot that they liked to sit there and 
 talk. It was not often that Barbara had the leisure for 
 such a ramble ; on Sundays she made a point of it. As 
 the two girls emerged from the wood, and came out on the 
 platform of rock, they were surprised to see Jasper seated 
 there with a book on his knee. He rose at once on hear- 
 ing their voices and seeing them. If he had wished to 
 escape, escape was impossible, for the rock descends on 
 all sides sheer to great depths, except where the path leads 
 to it. 
 
 ' Do not let us disturb you,' said Barbara ; * we will 
 withdraw if wo interrupt your studies.' 
 
 ' What is the book ? ' asked Eve. ' If it be poetry, read 
 us something from it,'
 
 r66 EVE 
 
 He hesitiitcd a moment, then with a smile said, ' It 
 contains the noblest poetry — it is my Bible.' 
 
 ' The Bible ! ' exclaimed Barbara. She was pleased. 
 He certainly was sincere in his repentance. He would not 
 have gone away to a private spot to read the sacred volume 
 unless he were in earnest. 
 
 'Let us sit down, Barbie!' said Eve. 'Don't run 
 away, Mr. Jasper.' 
 
 ' As Mr. Jasper was reading, and you asked him to give 
 you something from the book, I will join in the request.' 
 
 ' I thought it was perhaps — Byron,' said Eve. 
 
 ' As it is not Byron, but something better, we shall be 
 all the better satisfied to have it read to us,' said Barbara. 
 
 ' Well, then, some of the story part, please,' asked Eve, 
 screwing up her mouth, ' and not much of it.' 
 
 ' I should prefer a Psalm,' said Barbara ; • or a chapter 
 from one of the Epistles.' 
 
 ' I do not know what to read,' Jasper said smiling, 'as 
 each of you asks for something different.' 
 
 ' I have an idea,' exclaimed Eve. ' He shall hold the 
 book shut. I will close my eyes and open the volume at 
 hap-hazard, and point with my linger. He shall read that, 
 and we can conjure from it, or guess our characters, or 
 read our fate. Then you shall do the same. Will that 
 please you?' 
 
 ' I do not know about guessing characters and reading 
 our fate; our characters we know by introspection, and 
 the future is hidden from our eyes by the same Hand that 
 s.nt the book. But if you wish Mr. Jasper to be guided 
 by this method what to read, I do not object.' 
 
 1 Very \\. 11/ said Eve, in glee; ' that will be fun! You 
 will promise, Barbie, to shut your eyes when you open and 
 put your finger on a page ? And, Mr. Jasper, you promise 
 to read exactly what my sister and I select ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' answered both to whom she appealed. 
 
 ' But mind this,' pursued the lively girl ; ' you must 
 stop as soon as I am tired.'
 
 LEAH AND RACHEL 167 
 
 Then first, eager in all she did that promised entertain- 
 ment or diversion, she took the Bible from Mr. Babb's 
 hands, and closed her eyes ; a pretty smile played about 
 her flexible lips as she sat groping with her finger among 
 the pages. Then she opened the book and her blue orbs 
 together. 
 
 ' There ! ' she exclaimed, ' I have made my choice ; 
 yet— wait ! I will mark my place, and then pass the book 
 to Bab — I mean, Barbie.' She had a wild summer rose 
 in her bosom. She pulled off a petal, touched it with her 
 tongue, and put the leaf at the spot she had selected. 
 
 Then she shut the Bible with a snap, laughed, and 
 handed it to her sister. 
 
 ' I need not shut my eyes,' said Barbara ; ' I will look you 
 full in the face, Eve.' Then she took the book and felt for 
 the end pages that she might light on an Epistle ; just as 
 she saw that Eve had groped for an early part of the book 
 that she might have a story from the times of the patri- 
 archs. She did not know that Eve in handing her the 
 book had not turned it ; consequently she held the Bible 
 reversed. Barbara held a buttercup in her hand. She was 
 so accustomed to use her fingers, that it was strange to her 
 to have nothing to employ them. As they came through the 
 meadows she had picked a few flowers, broken the stalks 
 and thrown them away. There remained in her hand but 
 one buttercup. 
 
 Barbara placed the Bible on her lap ; she, like Eve, 
 had seated herself on the rocky ledge. Then she opened 
 near what she believed to be the end of the book, and laid 
 the golden cup on a page. 
 
 Eve leaned towards her and looked, and uttered an ex- 
 clamation. 
 
 ' What is it? ' asked Barbara, and looked also. 
 
 Behold ! the golden flower of Barbara was shining on 
 the pink petal of Eve's rose. 
 
 ' We have chosen the same place. Now, Barbie, what 
 do you say to this ? Is it a chance, or are we going to
 
 1 68 EVE 
 
 learn our fate, which is bound up together, from the 
 passage Mr. Jasper is about to read ? ' 
 
 1 There is no mystery in the matter,' said Barbara 
 quietly ; ' you did not turn the book when you gave it to 
 me, and it naturally opened where your flower lay.' 
 
 ' Go on, Mr. Jasper,' exhorted Eve. But the young 
 man seemed ill-disposed to obey. 
 
 1 Yes,' said Barbara ; ' begin. We are ready.' 
 
 Then Jasper began to read : — 
 
 ' Jacob went on his journey, and came into the land of 
 the people of the east. And he looked, and behold a well 
 in a field, and, lo, there were flocks of sheep lying by it.' 
 
 ' I am glad we are going to have this story,' said Eve ; 
 ' I like it. It is a pretty one. Jacob came to that house 
 of Laban just as you, Mr. Babb, have come to Morwell.' 
 
 Jasper read on : — 
 
 ' And Laban had two daughters : now the name of the 
 elder was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. 
 Leah was tender eyed ; but Rachel was beautiful and well- 
 favoured.' 
 
 Barbara was listening, but as she listened she looked 
 away into the blue distance over the vast gulf of the Tamar 
 valley towards the Cornish moors, the colour of cobalt, 
 with a salmon sky above them. Something must at that 
 moment have struck the. mind of Jasper, for he paused in 
 his reading, and his eyes sought hers. 
 
 She said in a hard tone, ' Go on.' 
 
 Then he continued in a low voice, ' And Jacob loved 
 Rachel ; and said, I will serve thee seven years for Rachel, 
 thy younger daughter. And Laban said, It is better that 
 I give her to thee, than that I should give her to another 
 man : abide with me. And Jacob served seven years for 
 Rachel ; and they seemed unto him but a few clays, for 
 the love he had to her.' 
 
 The reader again paused ; and again with a hard voice 
 Barbara bade him proceed. 
 
 ' And Jacob said unto Laban, Give me my wife, for my
 
 LEAH AND RACHEL 169 
 
 days are fulfilled. And Laban gathered together all the 
 men of the place, and made a feast. And it came to pass 
 in the evening, that he took Leah his daughter, and 
 brought her to Jacob.' 
 
 • That will do,' said Eve, ' I am tired.' 
 
 1 It seems to me,' said Barbara, in a subdued tone, 
 •that Leah was a despicable woman, a woman without 
 self-respect. She took the man, though she knew his 
 heart was set on Rachel, and that he did not care a rush 
 for her. No ! — I do not like the story. It is odious.' 
 She stood up and, beckoning to Eve, left the platform of 
 rock. 
 
 Jasper remained where he had been, without closing 
 the book, without reading further, lost in thought. Then 
 a small head appeared above the side of the rock where it 
 jutted out of the bank of underwood, also a pair of hands 
 that clutched at the projecting points of stone ; and in 
 another moment a boy had pulled himself on to the plat- 
 form, and lay on it with his feet dangling over the edge, 
 his head and breast raised on his hands. He was 
 laughing. 
 
 1 What ! dreaming, Master Ja:per Jacob ? Of which ? 
 Of the weak-eyed Leah or the blue-orbed Rachel ? ' 
 
 The young man started as if he had been stung. 
 
 ' What has brought you here, Watt ? No good, I 
 
 fear.' 
 
 ' my dear Jasper, there you are out. Goodness per- 
 sonified has brought me here— even your own pious self, 
 sitting Bible-reading to two pretty girls. How happy 
 could I be with either ! Eh, Jasper ? ' 
 
 ' What do you want with me ? ' asked Jasper, redden- 
 ing ; ' I detest your fun.' 
 
 ' Which is it ? ' taunted the mischievous boy. ' Which 
 — the elder, plain and dark ; or the younger, beautiful as 
 dawn ? or — like the patriarch Jacob — both ? 
 
 ' Enough of this, Watt. What has brought you 
 here ? '
 
 17° EVE 
 
 1 To see you, of course. I know you think me void of 
 all Christianity, but I have that in me yet, I like to know 
 the whereabouts of my brother, and how ho is getting on. 
 I am still with Martin— ever on the move, like the sun, 
 like the winds, like the streams, like everything that docs 
 not stagnate.' 
 
 1 It is a hard thing for me to say,' said Jasper, « but it 
 is true. Toor Martin would bo better without you. He 
 would be another man, and his life not blighted, had it 
 not been for your profane and mocking tongue. He was 
 a generous-hearted fellow, thoughtless, but not wicked; 
 you, however, have gained complete power over him, and 
 have used it for evil. Your advice is for the bad, your 
 sneers for what is good.' 
 
 ' I do not know good from bad,' said the boy, with a 
 contemptuous grin. 
 
 ' Watt, you have scoffed at every good impulse in 
 Martin's heart, you have drowned the voice of his con- 
 science by your gibes. It is \ou who have driven him 
 with your waspish tongue along the road of ruin.' 
 
 ' Not at all, Jasper ; there you wrong me. It was you 
 who had the undoing of Martin. You have loved him and 
 screened him since he was a child. You have taken the 
 punishment and blame on you which he deserved by his 
 misconduct. Of course he is a giddy-pate. It is you who 
 have let him grow up without dread of the consequences 
 of wrong-doing, because the punishment always fell on 
 you. You, Jasper, have spoiled Martin, not I.' 
 
 ' Well, Watt, this may be so. Father was unduly 
 harsh. I had no one else to love at home but my brother 
 Martin. You were such a babe as to be no companion. 
 And Martin I did— I do low. Such a noble, handsome, 
 frank hearted brother! All sunshine and laughter ! My 
 childhood had been charged with grief and shadow, and I 
 did my best to screen him. One must love something in 
 this world, or the heart dies. 1 loved my brother.' 
 
 ' Love, love ! ' laughed Watt. ' Now you have that
 
 LEAH AND RACHEL 171 
 
 heart so full that it is overflowing towards two nice girls. 
 I suppose that, enthralled between blue eyes and brown, 
 you have no thought left for Martin, none for father — 
 who, by the way, v& dying.' 
 
 'Dying ! ' exclaimed Jasper, springing to his feet. 
 
 ' There, now ! ' said the boy ; ' don't in your astonish- 
 ment topple over the edge of the precipice into kingdom 
 come.' 
 
 ' How do you know this, Watt ? ' asked Jasper in great 
 agitation. 
 
 ' Because I have been to Buckfastleigh and seen the 
 beastly old hole, and the factory, and the grey rat in his 
 hole, curled up, gnawing his nails and squealing with 
 pain.' 
 
 ' For shame of you, Watt ! you have no reverence even 
 for your father.' 
 
 ' Reverence, Jasper ! none in the world for anybody or 
 anything. Everything like reverence was killed out of me 
 by my training.' 
 
 ' What is the matter with father ? ' 
 
 ' How should I tell ? I saw him making contortions 
 and yowling. I did not approach too near lest he should 
 bite.' 
 
 ' I shall go at once,' said Jasper earnestly. 
 
 ' Of course you will. You are the heir. Eh ! Jasper ! 
 When you come in for the house and cloth mill, you will 
 extend to us the helping hand. you saint ! Why don't 
 you dance as I do ? Am I taken in by your long face ? 
 Ain't I sure that your heart is beating because now at last 
 you will come in for the daddy's collected money ? Poor 
 Martin ! He can't come and share. You won't be mean, 
 but divide, Jasper? I'll be the go-between.' 
 
 ' Be silent, you wicked boy ! ' said Jasper angrily ; ' I 
 cannot endure your talk. It is repugnant to me.' 
 
 ' Because I talk of sharing. You, the saint ! He 
 sniffs filthy mammon and away he flies like a crow to 
 carrion. Good-bye, Jasper ! Away you go like an arrow
 
 i; 2 EVE 
 
 from tke bow. Don't let that old housekeeper rummage 
 the stockings stuffed with guineas out of the chimney 
 before you get to Buckfastleigh ! ' 
 
 Jasper left the rock and strode hastily towards Mor- 
 well, troubled at heart at the news given him. Had ho 
 looked behind him as he entered the wood, he would have 
 seen the boy making grimaces, capering, clapping his 
 hands and knees, whistling, screaming snatches of operatic 
 tunes, laughing, and shouting ' Which is it to be, Rachel 
 or Leah ? ' 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 AN IMP OF DARKNESS. 
 
 Jasper went immediately to Mr. Jordan. He found Eve 
 with her father. Jane, the housemaid, had exhibited 
 signs of restlessness and impatience to be off. Joseph 
 Woodman, the policeman from Tavistock, a young and 
 sleepy man who was paying her his addresses, had ap- 
 peared at the kitchen window and coughed. He was off 
 duty, and Jane thought it hard that she should be on 
 when he was off. So Eve had let her depart with her 
 lover. 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr. Jordan, who was still in bed, ' what i3 
 it ? Do you want me ? ' 
 
 ' I have come to ask your permission to leave for a few 
 dnys. I must go to my father, who is dying. I will re- 
 turn as soon as I can.' 
 
 Eve's great blue eyes opened with amazement. * You 
 3aid nothing about this ten minutes ago.' 
 
 ' I did not know it then.' 
 
 ' What ! ' exclaimed Mr. Jordan, trying to rise on his 
 elbow, and his eyes brightening, ' Ezckiel Babb dying I 
 Is justice overtaking him at last ? ' 
 
 1 1 hear that he is dying,' said Jasper ; ' it is my duty 
 to "0 to him.'
 
 AN IMP OF DARKNESS 173 
 
 'If he dies,' said Mr. Jordan, 'to whom, will his 
 
 property go ? ' 
 
 ' Probably to me ; but it is premature to inquire' 
 
 ' Not at all. My Eve has been robbed ' 
 
 ' Sir ! ' said Jasper gravely, ' I undertook to repay that 
 sum as soon as it should be in my power to do so, princi- 
 pal and interest. I have your permission, sir?' He 
 bowed and withdrew. 
 
 At supper Barbara looked round, and noticed the 
 absence of Jasper Babb, but she said nothing. 
 
 ' You need not look at that empty chair,' said Eve ; 
 ' Mr. Jasper will not be here. lie is gone.' 
 ' Gone where ? ' 
 
 ' Called away suddenly. His father is dying.' 
 Barbara raised her eyebrows. She was greatly puzzled. 
 She sat playing with her fork, and presently said, ' This is 
 very odd — who brought the news ? ' 
 
 ' I saw no one. lie came in almost directly after we 
 left him on the Itaven Rock.' 
 
 ' But no one came up to the house.' 
 ' Oh, yes — Joseph Woodman, Jane's sweetheart, the 
 policeman.' 
 
 ' He cannot have brought the news.' 
 ' I do not think Mr. Jasper saw him, but I cannot say.' 
 ' I cannot understand it, Eve,' mused Barbara. ' "What 
 is more, I do not believe it.' 
 
 Barbara was more puzzled and disturbed than she 
 chose to show. How could Jasper have received news of 
 his father? If the old man had sent a messenger, that 
 messenger would have come to the house and rested there, 
 and been refreshed with a glass of cider and cake and cold 
 beef. No one had been to the house but the policeman, 
 and a policeman was not likely to be made the vehicle of 
 communication between old Babb and his son, living in 
 concealment. More probably Jasper had noticed that a 
 policeman was hovering about Morwell, had taken alarm, 
 tind absented himself.
 
 174 EVE 
 
 Then that story of Jacob serving for Rachel and being 
 given Leah came back on her. Was it not being in part 
 enacted before her eyes ? Was not Jasper there acting as 
 steward to her father, likely to remain there for some 
 years, and all the time with the love of Eve consuming 
 his heart ? ' And the seven years seemed unto him but a 
 few days for the love that he had to her.' What of Eve ? 
 Would she come to care for him, and in her wilfulness 
 insist on having him? It could not be. It must not be. 
 Please God, now that Jasper was gone, ho would not 
 return. Then, again, her mind swung back to the per- 
 plexing question of the reason of Jasper's departure. He 
 could not go home. It was out of the question his show- 
 ing his face again at Buckfastleigh. He would be recog- 
 nised and taken immediately. Why did he invent and 
 pass off on her father such a falsehood as an excuse for his 
 disappearance ? If he were made uneasy by the arrival of 
 the Tavistock policeman at the house, he might have 
 found some other excuse, but to deliberately say that his 
 father was dying and that he must attend his death-bed, 
 this was monstrous. 
 
 Eve remained till late, sitting in the parlour without a 
 light. The servant maids were all out. Their eagerness 
 to attend places of worship on Sunday — especially Sunday 
 evenings— showed a strong spirit of devotion ; and the 
 lateness of the hour to which those acts of worship de- 
 tained them proved also that their piety was of stubborn 
 and enduring quality. Generally, one of the maids re- 
 mained at home, but on this occasion Barbara and Eve 
 had allowed Jane to go out when she had laid the table for 
 supper, because her policeman had come, and there was to 
 be a love-feast at the little dissenting chapel which Jane 
 attended. The lover having turned up, the love-feast 
 must follow. 
 
 As the servants had not returned, Barbara remained 
 below, waiting till she heard their voices. Her father was 
 dozing. She looked in at him and then returned to her
 
 AN IMP OF DARKNESS 175 
 
 place by the latticed window. The room was dark, but 
 there was silvery light in the summer sky, becoming very 
 white towards the north. Outside the window was a jessa- 
 mine ; the scent it exhaled at night was too strong. Bar- 
 bara shut the window to exclude the fragrance. It made 
 her head ache. A light air played with the jessamine, 
 and brushed some of the white flowers against the glass. 
 Barbara was usually sharp with the servants when they 
 returned from their revivals, and love-feasts, and mission, 
 ary meetings, late ; but this evening she felt no impatience. 
 She had plenty to occupy her mind, and the time passed 
 quickly with her. All at once she heard a loud prolonged 
 hoot of an owl, so near and so loud that she felt sure the 
 bird must be in the house. Next moment she heard her 
 father's voice calling repeatedly and excitedly. She ran to 
 him and found him alarmed and agitated. His window 
 had been left open, as the evening was warm. 
 
 ' I heard an owl ! ' he said. ' It was at my ear ; it 
 called, and roused me from my sleep. It was not an owl — ■ 
 I do not know what it was. I saw something, I am not 
 sure what.' 
 
 ' Papa dear, I heard the bird. You know there are 
 several about. They have their nests in the barn and old 
 empty pigeon-house. One came by the window hooting. 
 I heard it also.' 
 
 ' I saw something,' he said. 
 
 She took his hand. It was cold and trembling. 
 
 ' You were dreaming, papa. The owl roused you, and 
 ilreams mixed with your waking impressions, so that you 
 cannot distinguish one from another.' 
 
 ' I do not know,' he said, vacantly, and put his hand to 
 his head. ' I do see and hear strange things. Do not 
 leave me alone, Barbara. Kindle a light, and read me one 
 of Challoner's Meditations. It may compose me.' 
 
 Eve was upstairs, amusing herself with unfolding and 
 trying on the yellow and crimson dress she had found in 
 the garret. She knew that Barbara would not come up-
 
 I/O 
 
 EVE 
 
 stairs yet. Shu would have heen afraid to masquerado 
 before her. She put her looking-glass on a chair, so that 
 she might see herself better in it. Then she took the tim- 
 brel, and poised herself on one foot, and held the instru- 
 ment over her head, and lightly tingled the little bells. 
 She had put on the blue turquoise ring. She looked at it, 
 kissed it, waved that hand, and rattled the tambourine, 
 but not so loud that Barbara might hear. Eve was quite 
 happy thus amusing herself. Her only disappointment 
 was that she had not more such dresses to try on. 
 
 All at once she started, stood still, turned and uttered 
 a cry of terror. She had been posturing hitherto with her 
 back to the window. A noise at it made her look round. 
 She saw, seated in it, with his short legs inside, and his 
 hands grasping the stone mullions — a small dark figure. 
 
 * Well done, Eve ! Well done, Zerlina 1 
 
 La ci clavem la mano, 
 La mi dirai di si ! ' 
 
 Then the boy laughed maliciously; he enjoyed her con- 
 fusion and alarm. 
 
 ' The weak-eyed Leah is away, quieting Laban,' he 
 said ; ' Leah shall have her Jacob, but Rachel shall get 
 Esau, the gay, the handsome, whose hand is against every 
 m:w, or rather one against whom every man's hand is 
 raised. I am going to jump into your room.' 
 
 1 Keep away ! ' cried Eve in the greatest alarm. 
 
 ' If you cry out, if you rouse Leah and bring her here, 
 I will make such a hooting and howling as will kill the 
 old man downstairs with fear.' 
 
 ' In pity go. What do you want ? ' asked Eve, backing 
 from the window to the farthest wall. 
 
 ' Take care ! Do not run out of the room. If you at- 
 tempt it, I will jump in, and make my fiddle squeal, and 
 caper about, till even the sober Barbara — Leah I mean — 
 will believe that devils have taken possession, and as for 
 the old man, he will give up his ghost to them without a 
 protest.'
 
 AN IMP OF DARKNESS 177 
 
 ' I entreat you — I implore you— go ! ' pleaded Eve, 
 with tears of alarm in her eyes, cowering back against the 
 wall, too frightened even to think of the costume she 
 wore. 
 
 4 Ah ! ' jeered the impish boy. 4 Kun along down into 
 the room where your sister is reading and praying with the 
 old man, and what will they suppose but that a crazy 
 opera-dancer has broken loose from her caravan and is 
 rambling over the country.' 
 
 He chuckled, he enjoyed her terror. 
 
 ' Do you know how I have managed to get this little 
 talk with you uninterrupted ? I hooted in at the window 
 of your father, and when he woke made faces at him. Then 
 he screamed for help, and Barbara went to him. Now 
 here am I ; I scrambled up the old pear-tree trained 
 against the wall. What is it, a Chaumontel or a Jargo- 
 nelle ? It can't be a Bon Chretien, or it would not have 
 borne me.' 
 
 Eve's face was white, her eyes were wide with terror, her 
 hands behind her scrabbled at the wall, and tore the paper. 
 * Oh, what do you want ? Pray, pray go ! ' 
 
 ' I will come in at the window, I Aviil caper and whistle, 
 and scream and fiddle. I will jump on the bed and kick 
 all the clothes this way, that way. I will throw your Sun- 
 day frock out of the window ; I will smash the basin and 
 water-bottle, and glass and jug. 1 will. throw the mirror 
 against the wall ; I will tear down the blinds and curtains, 
 and drive the curtain-pole through the windows ; I will 
 throw your candle into the heap of clothes and linen and 
 curtain, and make a blaze which will burn the room and 
 set the house flaming, unless you make me a solemn pro- 
 mise. I have a message for you from poor Martin. Poor 
 Martin ! his heart is breaking. He can think only of lovely 
 Eve. As soon as the sun sets be on the Raven Iiock to- 
 morrow.' 
 
 I cannot. Do leave the window.' 
 
 Very well,' said the boy, ' in ten minutes the house 
 
 N
 
 178 EVE 
 
 will be on fire. I am coining in ; you run away. I shall 
 lock you out, and before you have got help together the 
 room will be in a blaze.' 
 
 ' What do you want ? I will promise anything to be 
 rid of you.' 
 
 ' Promise to be on the Raven Eock to-morrow even- 
 ing.' 
 
 ' Why must I be there ? ' 
 
 1 Because I have a message to give you there.' 
 
 ' Give it me now.' 
 
 ' I cannot ; it is too long. That sister of yours will 
 come tumbling in en us with a Eoley-poley, gammon and 
 spinach, Heigh-ho! says Anthony Roley, oh ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes ! I will promise.' 
 
 Instantly he slipped his leg out, she saw only the hands 
 on the bottom of the window. Then up came the boy's 
 queer face again, that he might make grimaces at her and 
 shake his fist, and point to candle, and bed, and garments^ 
 and curtains : and then, in a moment, he was gone. 
 
 Some minutes elapsed before Eve recovered courage to 
 leave her place, shut her window, and take off the tawdry 
 dress in which she had disguised herself. 
 
 She heard the voices of the servant maids returning 
 along the lane. Soon after Barbara came upstairs. She 
 found her sister sitting on the bed. 
 
 ' What is it, Eye ? You look white and frightened.' 
 
 Eve did not answer. 
 
 ' What is the matter, dear ? Have you been alarmed 
 at anything? ' 
 
 ' Yes, Bab,' in a faint voice. 
 
 ' Did you see anything from your window ? ' 
 
 'I think so.' 
 
 ' I cannot understand,' said Barbara. ' I also fancied I 
 saw a dark figure dart across the garden and leap the wall 
 whilst I was reading to papa. I can't say, because there 
 was a candle in our room.' 
 
 ' Don't you think,' said Eve, in a faltering voice, ' it
 
 AN IMP OF DARKNESS 179 
 
 may Lave been Joseph Woodman parting with Jautj ? ' 
 Eve's cheeks coloured as she said this ; she was false with 
 her sister. 
 
 Barbara shook her head, and went into her own 100m. 
 ' He has gone,' she thought, ' because the house is watched, 
 his whereabouts has been discovered. I am glad he is 
 gone. It is best for himself, for Eve' — after a pause — 
 ' and for me.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 POOR MARTIN. 
 
 Eve was uneasy all next day— at intervals — she could do 
 nothing continuously — because of her promise. The re- 
 collection that she had bound herself to meet Watt on the 
 Raven Rock at sundown came on her repeatedly during 
 the day, spoiling her happiness. She would not have 
 scrupled to fail to keep her promise, but that the horrible 
 boy would be sure to force himself upon her, and in revenge 
 do some dreadful mischief. She was so much afraid of 
 him, that she felt that to keep her appointment was the 
 lesser evil. 
 
 As the sun declined her heart failed her, and just before 
 the orb set in bronze and gold, she asked Jane, the house- 
 maid, toaccompany her through the fields to the Raven 
 Rock. 
 
 Timid Eve dare not trust herself alone on the dangerous 
 platform with that imp. He was capable of any devilry. 
 He might scare her out of her wits. 
 
 Jane was a good-natured girl, and she readily obliged 
 her young mistress. Jane Welsh's mother, who was a 
 widow, lived not far from Morwell, in a cottage on the 
 banks of the Tamar, higher up, where a slip of level 
 meadow ran out from the clilb, and the river made a loop 
 round it. 
 
 N 2
 
 iSo EVE 
 
 As Eve walked through the fields towards tho wood, 
 and neared the trees and rocks, sho began to think that she 
 had made a mistake. It would not do for Jane to see 
 Watt. Sho would talk about him, and Barbara would 
 hear, and question her. If Barbara asked her why she 
 had gone out at dusk to meet the boy, what answer could 
 she make ? 
 
 When Eve came to the gate into the wood, she stood 
 still, and holding the gate half open, told Jane she might 
 stay there, for she would go on by herself. 
 
 Jane was surprised. 
 
 ' Please, Miss, I've nothing to take mo back to the 
 
 house.' Eve hastily protested that she did not want her 
 
 to return: she was to remain at the gate— 'And if I call 
 
 " — come on to me, Jane, not otherwise. I have a headache, 
 
 and I want to be alone.' 
 
 'Very well, Miss.' 
 
 But Jane was puzzled, and said to herself, 'There's a 
 lover, sure as eggs in April.' 
 
 Then Eve closed the gate between herself and Jane, 
 and went on. Before disappearing into the shade of tho 
 trees, she looked back, and saw the maid where she had 
 left her, plaiting grass. 
 
 A lover ! A lover is the philosopher's stone that turns 
 the sordid alloy of life into gold. The idea of a lover was 
 the most natural solution of the caprice in Miss Eve's 
 conduct. As every road leads to Borne, so in the servant- 
 maid mind does every line of life lead to a sweetheart. 
 
 Jane, having settled that her young mistress had gone 
 on to meet a lover, next questioned who that lover could 
 be, and here she was utterly puzzled. Sure enough Miss 
 Eve had been to a dance at tho Cloberrys', but whom sho 
 had met there, and to whom lost her heart, that Jane did 
 not know, and that also Jane was resolved to ascertain. 
 
 She noiselessly unliasped the gate, and stole along the 
 path. The burnished brazen sky of evening shone between 
 the tree trunks, but the foliage liar] lost its Verdure in the
 
 POOR MARTIN l8i 
 
 gathering dusk. The honeysuckles poured forth their 
 scent in waves. The air near the hedge and deep into the 
 wood was honeyed with it. "White and yellow speckled 
 currant moths were flitting about the hedge. Jane stole 
 along, stealthily, from tree to tree, fearful lest Eve should 
 turn and catch her spying. A large Scotch pine cast a 
 shadow under it like ink. On reaching that, Jane knew 
 she could see the top of the Baven Bock. 
 
 As she thus advanced on tip-toe she heard a rustling, 
 as of a bird in the tree overhead. Her heart stood still. 
 Then, before she had time to recover herself, with a shrill 
 laugh, a little black figure came tumbling down before her 
 out of the tree, capered, leaped at her, threw his arms 
 round her neck, and screamed into her face, ' Carry me ! 
 Carry me ! Carry me ! ' 
 
 Then his arms relaxed, he dropped off, shrieking with 
 laughter, and Jane fled, as fast as her limbs could bear her, 
 back to the gate, through the gate and away over the 
 meadows to Morwell House. 
 
 Eve had gone on to the platform of rock ; she stood 
 there irresolute, hoping that the detested boy would not 
 appear, when she heard his laugh and shout, and the 
 scream of Jane. She would have fainted with terror, had 
 not at that moment a tall man stepped up to her and laid 
 his hand on her arm. 'Do not be afraid, sweet fairy Eve ! 
 It is I — your poor slave Martin, — perfectly bewitched, 
 drawn back by those loadstone eyes. Do not be frightened, 
 Watt is merely giving a scare to the inquisitive servant.' 
 
 Eve was trembling violently. This was worse than 
 meeting the ape of a boy. She had committed a gross 
 indiscretion. What would Barbara say?— her father, if 
 he heard of it, how vexed he would be ! 
 
 'I must go back,' she said, with a feeble effort at 
 dignity. 'This is too bad; I have been .deceived.' Then 
 she gave way to weakness, and burst into tears. 
 
 'No,' he said carelessly, 'you shall not go. I will not 
 Buffer you to escape now that I have a chance of seeing
 
 iS-2 EVE 
 
 you and speaking with you. To begin at the beginning— 
 I love you. There ! you are all of a tremble. Sit clown 
 and listen to what I have to say. You Avill not? Well, 
 consider. I run terrible risks by being here; I may say 
 
 that I place my life in your delicate hands.' 
 
 She looked up at him, still too frightened to speak, even 
 to comprehend his words. 
 
 'I do not know you!' she whispered, when she was 
 able to gather together the poor remnants of her strength. 
 
 ' You remember me. I have your ring, and you have 
 mine. We are, in a manner, bound to each other. Be 
 patient, dear love ; listen to me. I will tell you all my 
 storv.' 
 
 He saw that she was in no condition to be pressed. If 
 he spoke of love she would make a desperate effort to 
 escape. Weak and gitkly though she was, she would not 
 endure that from a man of whom she knew nothing. He 
 saw that. lie knew he must give her time to recover from 
 her alarm, so he said, ' I wish, most beautiful fairy, you 
 would rest a few minutes on this piece of rock. I am a 
 poor, hunted, suffering, misinterpreted wretch, and I come 
 to tell you my story, only to entreat your sympathy and 
 your prayers. I will not say a rude word, I will not lay 
 a finger on you. All I ask is : listen to me. That cannot 
 hurt you. I am a beggar, a beggar whining at your feet, 
 not asking for more alms than a tear of pity. Give me 
 that, that only, and I go away relieved.' 
 
 She seemed somewhat reassured, and drew a long 
 breath. 
 
 4 1 had a sister of your name.' 
 
 She raised her head, and looked at him with surprise. 
 
 ' It is an uncommon name. My poor sister is gone. 
 I suppose it is your name that has attracted me to you, 
 that induces me to open my heart to you. I mean to 
 confide to you my troubles. You say that you do not 
 know me. I will tell you all my story, and then, sweet 
 Evo, you will indeed know me, and, knowing me, will
 
 POOR MARTIN 183 
 
 Bhower tears of precious pity, that will infinitely console 
 nie.' 
 
 She was still trembling, but flattered, and relieved 
 that he asked for nothing save sympathy. That of course 
 she was at liberty to bestow on a deserving object. She 
 was wholly inexperienced, easily deceived by flattery. 
 
 I Have I frightened you ? ' asked Martin. ' Am I so 
 dreadful, so unsightly an object as to inspire you with 
 aversion and terror ? ' He drew himself up and paused. 
 Eve hastily looked at him. He was a strikingly handsome 
 man, with dark hair, wonderful dark eyes, and finely 
 chiselled features. 
 
 ' I said that I put my life in your hands. I spoke the 
 truth. You have but to betray me, and the police and 
 the parish constables will come in SLjwsse after me. I will 
 stand here with folded arms to receive them ; but mark 
 my words, as soon as they set foot on this rock, I will 
 fling myself over the edge and perish. If you sacrifice 
 me, my life is not worth saving.' 
 
 I I will not betray you,' faltered Eve. 
 
 ' I know it. You are too noble, too true, too heroic to 
 be a traitress. I knew it when I came here and placed 
 myself at your mercy.' 
 
 1 But,' said Eve timidly, ' what have you done ? You 
 have taken my ring. Give it back to me, and I will not 
 send the constables after you.' 
 
 ' You have mine.' 
 
 • I will return it.' 
 
 'About that hereafter,' said Martin grandly, and he 
 waved his hand. 'Now I answer your question, What 
 have I done ? I will tell you everything. It is a long 
 story and a sad one. Certain persons come out badly in il 
 whom I would spare. But it may not be otherwise. Self- 
 defence is the first law of nature. You have, no doubt, 
 heard a good deal about me, and not to my advantage. I 
 have been prejudiced in your eyes by Jasper. He is narrow, 
 does not make allowances, has never recovered the strait-
 
 ;S4 EVE 
 
 lacing father gave him as a child. His conscience lias not 
 expanded since infancy.' 
 
 Eve looked at Martin with astonishment. 
 
 ' Mr. Jasper Babb has not said anything — ' 
 
 1 Oh, there ! ' interrupted Martin, ' you may spare your 
 sweet lips the fib. I know better than that. He grumbles 
 and mumbles about me to everyone who will open an ear 
 to his tales. If he were not my brother ' 
 
 Now Eve interrupted him. ' Mr. Jasper your brother! ' 
 
 ' Of course he is. Did he not tell you so ? ' He saw 
 that she had not known by the expression of her face, so, 
 with a laugh, he said, ' Oh dear, no ! Of course Jasper 
 was too grand and sanctimonious a man to confess to the 
 blot in the family. I am that blot — look at me ! ' 
 
 Ho showed his handsome figure and face by a theatrical 
 gesture and position. ' Poor Martin is the blot, to which 
 Jasper will not confess, and yet — Martin survives this 
 neglect and disrespect.' 
 
 The overweening vanity, the mock humility, the assu- 
 rance of the man passed unnoticed by Eve. She breathed 
 freely when she heard that he was the brother of Jasper. 
 There could have been no harm in an interview with 
 Jasper, and consequently very little in one with his brother. 
 So she argued, and so she reconciled herself to the situa- 
 tion. Now she traced a resemblance between the brothers 
 which had escaped her before ; they had the same large dark 
 expressive eyes, but Jasper's face was not so regular, his 
 features not so purely chiselled as those of Martin, lie 
 was broader built; Martin had the perfect modelling of a 
 Greek statue. There was also a more manly, self-confi- 
 dent bearing in Martin than in the elder brother, who 
 always appeared bowed as with some burden that oppressed 
 his spirits, and took from him self-assertion and buoyancy, 
 that even maimed his vigour of manhood. 
 
 4 1 dare say you have had a garbled version of my story,' 
 continued Martin, seating himself; and Eve, without con- 
 sidering, seated herself also. Martin let himself down
 
 POOR MARTIN' 185 
 
 gracefully, and assumed a position where the evening light, 
 still lingering in the sky, could irradiate his handsome face. 
 • That is why I have sought this interview. I desired to 
 put myself right with you. No doubt you have heard that 
 I got into trouble.' 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 ' Well, I did. I was unlucky. In fact, I could stay 
 with my father no longer. I had already left him for a 
 twelvemonth, but I came back, and, in Scriptural terms, 
 such a3 he could understand, asked him to give me the 
 portion of goods that fell to me. He refused, so I took it.' 
 
 « Took— took what ? ' 
 
 ' My portion of goods, not in stock but in money. For 
 my part,' said Martin, folding his arms, ' it has ever struck 
 me that the Prodigal Son was far the nobler of the brothers. 
 The eldest was a mean fellow, the second had his faults — I 
 admit it— but he was a man of independence of action ; he 
 would not stand being bullyragged by his father, so he 
 went away. I got into difficulties over that matter. My 
 father would not overlook it, made a fuss, and so on. My 
 doctrine is : Let bygones be bygones, and accept what 
 comes and don't kick. That my father could not see, and 
 bo I got locked up.' 
 
 ' Locked up — where ? ' 
 
 • In a pill-box. I managed, however, to escape ; I am 
 at large, and at your feet — entreating you to pity me.' 
 
 He suited the action to the word. In a moment he 
 was gracefully kneeling before her on one knee, with his 
 hand on his heart. 
 
 1 Oh, Miss Eve,' he said, ' since I saw your face in the 
 moonlight I have never forgotten it. "Wherever I went it 
 haunted me. I saw these great beautiful eyes looking 
 timidly into mine ; by day they eclipsed the sun. What- 
 ever I did I thought only of you. And now — what is it that I 
 ask of you ? Nothing but forgiveness. The money — the 
 portion of gcods that fell to me — was yours. My father 
 owed it to you. It was intended for you. But now, hear
 
 1 86 EVE 
 
 me, you noble, generous-spirited girl ; I have borrowed the 
 money, it shall be returned— or its equivalent. If you de- 
 sire it, I will swear.' He stood up and assumed an attitude. 
 
 1 Oh, no ! ' said Eve ; ' you had my money?' 
 
 1 As surely as I had your ring.' 
 
 1 Much in the same way,' she said, with a little sharp- 
 ness. 
 
 'But I shall return one with the other. Trust me. 
 Stand up ; look me in the face. Do I bear the appearance 
 of a cheat, a thief, a robber ? Am I base, villanous ! No, 
 I am nothing but a poor, foolish, prodigal lad, who has got 
 into a scrape, but will get out of it again. You forgive me. 
 Hark ! I hear someone calling.' 
 
 1 It is Barbara. She is looking for me.' 
 
 ' Then I disappear.' He put his hand to his lips, 
 wafted her a kiss, whispered ' When you look at the ring, 
 remember poor — poor Martin,' and he slipped away among 
 the bushes. 
 
 CHAPTER. XXVIII. 
 
 FATHER AND SON. 
 
 Barbara was mistaken. Jasper had gone to Buckfastleigh, 
 gone openly to his father's house, in the belief that his 
 father was dying. He knocked at the blotched and scaled 
 door under the dilapidated portico, but received no answer. 
 He tried the door. It was locked and barred. Then he 
 went round to the back, noting how untidy the garden was, 
 how out of repair was the house ; and in the yard of the 
 kitchen he found the deaf housekeeper. His first question, 
 shouted into her ear, naturally was an inquiry after his 
 father. He learned to his surprise that the old man was 
 not ill, but was then in the factory. Thinking that his 
 question had been misunderstood, he entered the house, 
 went into his father's study, then up to his bedroom, and
 
 FATHER AND SON 187 
 
 through the dirty window-panes saw the old nwi leaving 
 the mill on his way back to the house. 
 
 What, then, had Watt meant by sending him to the 
 old home on false tidings ? The boy was indeed mischie- 
 vous, but this was more than common mischief. He must 
 have sent him on a fool's errand for some purpose of his 
 own. That the boy wanted to hear news of his father was 
 possible, but not probable. The only other alternative 
 Jasper could suggest to explain Watt's conduct was the 
 disquieting one that he wanted to be rid of Jasper from 
 Morwell for some purpose of his own. What could that 
 purpose be ? 
 
 Jasper's blood coursed hot through his veins. He was 
 angry. He was a forbearing man, ready always to find an 
 excuse for a transgressor, but this was a transgression too 
 malicious to be easily forgiven. Jasper determined, now 
 that he was at home, to see his father, and then to return 
 to the Jordans as quickly as he could. He had ridden his 
 own horse, that horse must have a night's rest, but to- 
 morrow he would return. 
 
 He was thus musing when Mr. Babb came in. 
 
 1 You here ! ' said the old man. ' What has brought 
 you to Buckfastleigh again ? Want money, of course.' 
 Then snappishly, ' You shan't get it.' 
 
 ' I am come,' said his son, ' because I had received in- 
 formation that you were ill. Have you been unwell, 
 father ? ' 
 
 'I — no! I'm never ill. No such luck for you. If 
 I were ill and helpless, you might take the manage- 
 ment, you think. If I were dead, that would be nuts to 
 you.' 
 
 ' My father, you wrong me. I left you because I would 
 no longer live this wretched life, and because I hate your 
 unforgiving temper.' 
 
 ' Unforgiving ! ' sneered the old manufacturer. ' Martin 
 was a thief, and he deserved his fate. Is not Brutus ap- 
 plauded because he condemned his own son? Is not
 
 iSS EVE 
 
 David held to bo weak because lie bade Joab spare Absa- 
 lom ? ' 
 
 ' We v. ill not squeeze old crushed apples. No juice 
 will run from them,' replied Jasper. ' The thing was 
 done, and might have been forgiven. I would not have 
 returned now had I not been told that }-ou were dying.' 
 
 ' Who told you that lie ? ' 
 
 ' Walter.' 
 
 1 lie ! He was ever a liar, a mocker, a blasphemer ! 
 How was he to know ? I thank heaven he has not shown 
 his jackanapes visage here since he left. I dying ! I never 
 was sounder. I am better in health and spirits since I am 
 quit of my sons. They vexed my righteous soul everyday 
 with their ungodly deeds. So you supposed I was dying, 
 and came here to see what meat could be picked off your 
 father's bones ? ' 
 
 Jasper remembered Watt's sneer. It was clear whence 
 the boy had gathered his mean views of men's motives. 
 
 1 I'll trouble you to return whence you came,' said 
 Ezekicl Babb. ' No blessing has rested on me since I 
 brought the strange blood into the house. Now that all 
 of you are gone— you, Eve number one, and Eve number 
 two, Martin and Walter — I am well. The Bon of Peace 
 has returned to this house ; I can read my Bible and do 
 my accounts in quiet, without fears of what new bit of mis- 
 chief or devilry my children have been up to, without any 
 more squeaking of fiddles and singing of profane songs all 
 over the house. Come now ! ' — the old man raised his 
 bushy brows and Hashed a cunning, menacing glance at 
 his son — ' come now ! if you had found me dead — in 
 Abraham's bosom— what would you have done ? I know 
 what Walter would have done : he would have capered 
 up and down all over the house, fiddling like a devil, 
 like a devil as he is.' He looked at Jasper again, in- 
 quisitively. Well, what would you have done ? — fiddled 
 too?' 
 
 4 My father, as ; ; ou desire to know, I will tell you. I
 
 FATHER AND SON iZc, 
 
 would at once have realised what I could, and have cleared 
 off the debt to Mr. Jordan.' 
 
 1 Well, you may do that when the day comes,' said the 
 old manufacturer, shrugging his shoulders. ' It is nothing 
 to me what you do with the mill and the house and the 
 land after I am ' — he turned up his eyes to the dirty ceil- 
 ing — ' where the wicked cease from fiddling and no thieves 
 break in and steal. I am not going to pay the money 
 twice over. My obligation ended when the money went 
 out of this house. I did more than I was required. I 
 chastised my own son for taking it. What was seven years 
 on Dartmoor ? A flea-bite. Under the old law the rebel- 
 lious son was stoned till he died. I suppose, now, you are 
 hungry. Call the old crab ; kick her, pinch her, till she 
 understands, and let her give you something to eat. There 
 are some scraps, I know, of veal-pie and cold potatoes. I 
 think, by the way, the veal-pie is done. Don't forget to 
 ask a blessing before you fall-to on the cold potatoes.' 
 Then he rubbed his forehead and said, ' Stay, I'll go and 
 rouse the old toad myself ; you stay here. You are the 
 best of ray children. All the rest were a bad lot — too 
 much of the strange blood in them.' 
 
 Whilst Mr. Babb is rousing his old housekeeper to pro- 
 duce some food, we will say a few words of the past history 
 of the Babb family. 
 
 Eve the first, Mr. Babb's wife, had led a miserable life. 
 She did not run aw ay from him : .she remained and poured 
 forth the fiery love of her heart upon her children, espe- 
 cially on her eldest, a daughter, Eve, to whom she talked 
 of her old life— its freedom, its happiness, its attractions. 
 She died of a broken spirit on the birth of her third son, 
 Walter. Then Eve, the eldest, a beautiful girl, unable to 
 endure the bad temper of her father, the depressing atmo- 
 sphere of the house, and the cares of housekeeping hnpos. d 
 on her, ran away after a travelling band of actors. 
 
 Jasper, the eldest son, grew up to be grave and resigned. 
 He vas of use in the house, managing it as far a3 he was
 
 190 EVE 
 
 allowed, and helping his father in many ways. But the 
 
 old man. who bad grumbled at and insulted his wife whilst 
 she was alive, could not keep his tongue from the subject 
 that still rankled in his heart. This occasioned quarrels; 
 the boy took his mother's side, and refused to hear his 
 father's gibes at her memory. He was passionately at- 
 tached to his next brother Martin. The mother had 
 brought a warm, loving spirit into the family, and Jasper 
 had inherited much of it. He stood as a screen between 
 his brother and father, warding off from the former many 
 a blow and angry reprimand, lie did Martin's school 
 tasks for him ; he excused his faults ; he admired him for 
 his beauty, his spirit, his bearing, bis lively talk. There 
 was no lad, in his opinion, who could equal Martin ; Watt 
 was right when he said that Jasper had contributed to his 
 ruin by humouring him, but Jasper humoured him be- 
 cause he loved him, and pitied him for the uncongeniality 
 of his home. Martin displayed a talent for music, and 
 there was an old musician at Ashburton, the organist of 
 the parish church, who developed and cultivated his talent, 
 and taught him both to play and sing. Jasper had also an 
 instinctive love of music, and he also learned the violin 
 and surpassed his brother, who had not the patience to 
 master the first difficulties, and who preferred to sing. 
 
 The father, perhaps, saw in Martin a recrudescence of 
 the old proclivities of his mother ; he tried hard to inter- 
 fere with his visits to the musician, and only made Martin 
 more set on his studies witli him. But the most implaca- 
 ble, incessant state of war was that which raged between 
 the old father and his youngest son, Walter, or Watt as 
 his brothers called him. This boy bad no reverence in 
 him. lie scouted the authority of his father and of Jasper. 
 He scoffed at everything the old man held sacred. He ab- 
 solutely refused to go to the Baptist Chapel frequented by 
 bis father, be stopped his ears and made grimaces at his 
 brothers and the servants during family worship, and the 
 devotions were not unfrequently concluded with a rush of
 
 FATHER AND SON 191 
 
 the old man at his youngest son and the administration of 
 resounding clouts on the ears. 
 
 At last a quarrel broke out between them of so fierce a 
 nature that Watt was expelled the house. Then Martin 
 left to follow Watt, who had joined a travelling dramatic 
 company. After a year, however, Martin returned, very 
 thin and woe-hegone, and tried to accommodate himself to 
 home-life once more. But it was not possible ; he had 
 tasted of the sort of life that suited him — one rambling, 
 desultory, artistic. He robbed his father's bureau and ran 
 away. 
 
 Then it was that he was taken, and in the same week 
 sent to the assizes, and condemned to seven years' penal 
 labour in the convict establishment at Prince's Town. 
 Thence he had escaped, assisted by Jasper and Watt, whilst 
 the former was on his way to Morwell with the remnant of 
 tbe money recovered from Martin. 
 
 The rest is known to the reader. 
 
 W'hilst Jasper ate the mean meal provided for him, his 
 father watched him. 
 
 ' So,' said the old man, and the twinkle was in his 
 cunning eyes, ' so you have hired yourself to Mr. Ignatius 
 Jordan at Morwell as his steward ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, father. I remain there as pledge to him that 
 he shall b« repaid, and I am doing there all I can to 
 put the estate into good order. It has been shockingly 
 neglected.' 
 
 ' Who for ? ' asked Mr. Babb. 
 
 ' I do not understand.' 
 
 ' For whom are you thus working ? * 
 
 ' For Mv. Jordan, as you said ! ' 
 
 The manufacturer chuckled. 
 
 ' Jasper,' said he, ' some men look on a pool and see 
 nothing but water. I put my head in, open my eyes, and 
 see what is at the bottom. That girl did not come here for 
 nothing. I put my head under water and opened my 
 eyes.'
 
 IQ2 EVE 
 
 ' Well ? ' said Jasper, with an effort controlling his irri- 
 tation. 
 
 ' Well ! I saw it all under the surface. I saw you. She 
 came here because she was curious to see the factory and 
 the house, and to know if all was as good as you had 
 bragged about. I gave her a curt dismissal ; I do not want 
 a daughter-in-law thrusting her feet into rny shoes till I 
 cast them off for ever.' 
 
 Jasper started to his feet and upset his chair. He was 
 very angry. 'You utterly wrong her,' ho said. 'You 
 open your eyes in mud, and sec only dirt. Miss Jordan 
 came here out of kindness towards me, whom she dislikes 
 and despises in her heart.' 
 
 Mr. Babb chuckled. 
 
 ' Well, I won't say that you have not acted wisely. 
 Morwcll will go to that girl, and it is a pretty property.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, you are wrong. It is left to the 
 second — Eve.' 
 
 ' So, so ! It goes to Eve ! That is why the elder 
 girl came here, to see if she could fit herself into Owla- 
 combe.' 
 
 Jasper's face burnt, and the muscles of his head and 
 neck quivered, but he said nothing. He dared not trust 
 himself to speak. He had all his life practised self-control, 
 but he never needed it more than at this moment. 
 
 ' I see it all,' pursued the old man, his crafty face con- 
 tracting with a grin ; ' Mr. Jordan thought to provide for 
 both his daughters. Buckfast mill and Owlacombo for the 
 elder, Morwell for the younger — ha, ha ! The elder to take 
 you bo as to get this pretty place. And she came to look 
 at it and see if it suited her. Well ! It is a pretty place 
 ■ — only,' ho giggled, ' it ain't vacant and to be had just 
 yet.' 
 
 Jasper took his hat ; his face \va 3 red as blood, and hia 
 dark eyes flashed. 
 
 ' Don't go,' said the old manufacturer ; ' you did not 
 see their little trap and walked into it, eh '? One word of
 
 FATHER AND SON 193 
 
 warning I must give you. Don't run after the younger ; 
 Eve is your niece.' 
 
 ' Father ! ' 
 
 • Ah ! that surprises you, does it ? It is true. Eve's 
 mother was your sister. Did Mr. Jordan never tell you 
 that ? ' 
 
 ' Never ! ' 
 
 ' It is trus. Sit down again to the cold potatoes. You 
 shall know all, but first ask a blessing.' 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIX. 
 
 HUSH-MONEY. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Mr. Babb, settling himself on a chair ; then 
 finding he had sat on the tails of his coat, he rose, held a 
 tail in each hand, and reseated himself between them ; 
 * yes.' 
 
 4 Do you mean seriously to tell me that Mr. Jordan's 
 second wife was my sister ? ' 
 
 ' Well — in a way. That is, I don't mean your sister in 
 a way, but his wife in a way.' 
 
 ■ I have heard nothing of this ; what do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' I mean that he did not marry her.' 
 
 Jasper Babb's face darkened. ' I have been in his 
 house and spoken to him, and not known that. What be- 
 came of my sister ? ' 
 
 The old man fidgeted on his chair. It was not com- 
 fortable. ' I'm sure I don't know,' he said. 
 
 • Did she die ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Mr. Babb, ' she ran off with a play-actor.' 
 
 4 Well— and after that ? ' 
 
 ' After what? After the play-actor ? I do not know, I 
 have not heard of her since. I don't want to. Was not 
 that enough ? ' 
 
 ' And Mr. Jordan— docs he know nothing ? ' 
 
 o
 
 194 EVE 
 
 1 1 cannot tell. If you are curious to know you can 
 aslV 
 
 ' This is very extraordinary. Why did not Mr. Jordan 
 tell inc the relationship '? lie knew who I was.' 
 
 The old man laughed, and Jasper shuddered at his 
 laugh, there was something so base and brutal in it. 
 
 ' He was not so proud of how he behaved to Eve as to 
 care to boast of the connection. You might not have liked 
 it, might have fizzed and gone pop.' 
 
 Jasper's brow was on fire, his eyebrows met, and a 
 sombre sparkle was in his eye. 
 
 1 You have made no effort to trace her ? ' 
 
 Mr. Babb shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' Tell me,' said Jasper, leaning his elbow on the table, 
 and putting his hand over his eyes to screen them from the 
 light, and allow him to watch his father's face — 'tell me 
 everything, as you undertook. Tell me how my poor sister 
 came to Morwell, and how she left it.' 
 
 ' There is not much to tell,' answered the father; 'you 
 know that she ran away from home after her mother's 
 death ; you were then nine or ten years old. She hated 
 work, and lusted after the pomps and vanities of this 
 wicked world. After a while I heard where she was, that 
 she was ill, and had been taken into Morwell House to be 
 nursed, and that there she remained after her recovery.' 
 
 ' Strange,' mused Jasper; ' she fell ill and was taken to 
 Morwell, and I — it was the same. Things repeat them- 
 selves; the world moves in a circle.' 
 
 ' Everything repeats itself. As in Eve's case the sick- 
 ness led up to marriage, or something like it, so will it be 
 in your case. This is what Mr. Jordan and Eve did : they 
 went into the little old chapel, and took each other's hands 
 before the altar, and swore fidelity to each other ; that was 
 all. Mr. Jordan is a Catholic, and would not have the 
 knot tied by a church parson, and Eve would not confess 
 to her name, she had that sense of decency left in her. 
 They satisfied their consciences but it wa3 no legal mar-
 
 HUSH-MONEY 195 
 
 riage. I believe he would have done what was right, hut 
 she was perverse, and refused to give her name, and say 
 both who she was and whence she came.' 
 
 ' Go on,' said Jasper. 
 
 ' Well, then, about a year after this I heard where she 
 was, and I went after her to Morwell, but I did not go 
 openly — I had no wish to encounter Mr. Jordan. I tried 
 to persuade Eve to return with me to Buckfastleigh. Who 
 can lay to my charge that I am not a forgiving father ? 
 Have I not given you cold potato, and would have furnished 
 you with veal pie if the old woman had not finished the 
 scraps ? I saw Eve, and I told her my mind pretty freely, 
 both about her running away and about her connection 
 with Jordan. I will say this for her — she professed to be 
 sorry for what she had done, and desired my forgiveness. 
 That, I said, I would give her on one condition only, that 
 she forsook her husband and child, and came back to keep 
 house for me. I could not bring her to a decision, so I 
 appointed her a day, and said I would take her final answer 
 on that. But I was hindered going ; I forget just now 
 what it was, but I couldn't go that day.' 
 
 1 Well, father, what happened ? ' 
 
 ' As I could not keep my appointment — I remember 
 now hew it was, I was laid up with a grip of lumbago at 
 Tavistock — I sent one of the actors there, from whom I 
 had heard about her, with a message. I had the lumbago 
 in my back that badly that I was bent double. When I 
 was able to go, on the morrow, it was too late ; she was 
 gone.' 
 
 'Gone! Whither?' 
 
 •Gone off with the play-actor,' answered Mr. Babb, 
 grimly. ' It runs in the blood.' 
 
 ' You are sure of this ? ' 
 
 'Mr. Jordan told me so.' 
 
 ' Did you not pursue her ? ' 
 
 • To what end ? I had done my duty. I had tried my 
 utmost to recover my daughter, and when for the second
 
 196 EVE 
 
 time she played me false, I wiped off the dust of my feet aa 
 a testimony against her.' 
 
 ' She left her child ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, she deserted her child as well as her husband — 
 that is to say, Mr. Ignatius Jordan. She deserted the house 
 that had sheltered her, to run after a homeless, bespangled, 
 bepainted play-actor. I know all about it. The life at 
 Morwell was too dull for her, it was duller there than at 
 Buckfastleigh. Here she could see something of the world ; 
 she could watch the factory hands coming to their work 
 and leaving it ; but there she was as much out of the world 
 as if she were in Lundy Isle. She had a hankering after 
 the glitter and paint of this empty world.' 
 
 ' I cannot believe this. I cannot believe that she would 
 desert the man who befriended her, and forsake her 
 child.' 
 
 ' You say that because you did not know her. You 
 know Martin ; would he not do it ? You know Watt ; has 
 he any scruples and strong domestic affections? She 
 was like them ; had in her veins the same boiling, giddy, 
 wanton blood.' 
 
 Jasper knew but too well that Martin and ^Vatt were 
 unscrupulous, and followed pleasure regardless of the calls 
 of duty. He had been too young when his sister left home 
 to know anything of her character. It was possible that 
 she had the same light and careless temperament as 
 Martin. 
 
 1 A horse that shies once will shy again,' said the old 
 man. ' Eve ran away from home once, and she ran away 
 from the pecond home. If she did not run away from 
 home a third time it probably was that she had none to 
 desert.' 
 
 ' And Mr. Jordan knows nothing of her ? ' 
 
 1 He lives too far from the stream of life to sec the 
 broken dead things that drift down it.' 
 
 Jasper considered. The flush of anger had faded from 
 his brow ; an expression of great sadness had succeeded.
 
 HUSH-MONEY 197 
 
 His hand was over his brow, but lis was no longer intent 
 on his father's face ; his eyes rested on the table. 
 
 1 I must find out something about my sister. It is too 
 horrible to think of our sister, our only sister, as a lost, 
 sunk, degraded thing.' 
 
 He thought of Mr. Jordan, of his strange manner, his 
 abstracted look, his capricious temper. He did not believe 
 that the master of M or well was in his sound senses. He 
 seemed to be a man whose mind had preyed on some great 
 sorrow till all nerve had gone out of it. What was that 
 Borrow ? Once Barbara had said to him, in excuse for 
 some violence and rudeness in her father's conduct, that 
 he had never got over the loss of Eve's mother. 
 
 1 Mr. Jordan was not easy about his treatment of my 
 daughter,' said old Babb. ' From what little I saw of him 
 seventeen years ago I take him to be a weak-spirited man. 
 He was in a sad take-on then at the loss of Eve, and 
 having a baby thrown on his hands unweaned. He offered 
 me the money I wanted to buy those fields for stretching 
 the cloth. You may be sure when a man presses money 
 on you, and is indifferent to interest, that he wants you to 
 forgive him something. Pie desired me to look over his 
 conduct to my daughter, and drop all inquiries. I dare say 
 they had had words, and then she was ready in her passion 
 to run away with the first vagabond who offered.' 
 
 Then Jasper removed his hand from his face, and laid 
 one on the other upon the table. His face was now pale, 
 and the muscles set. His eyes looked steadily and sternly 
 at the mean old man, who averted his eyes from those of 
 his son. 
 
 1 What is this ? You took a bribe, father, to let the 
 affair remain unsifted ! For the sake of a few acres of 
 meadow you sacrificed your child ! ' 
 
 1 Fiddlesticks-ends,' said the manufacturer. • I sacri- 
 ficed nothing. What could I do ? If I ran after Eve and 
 found her in some harlequin and columbine booth, could 
 I force her to return ? She had made her bed, and must
 
 198 EVE 
 
 lie on it. What could I gain by stirring in the matter ? 
 Let sleeping clogs lie.' 
 
 ' Father,' said Jasper, very gravely, 'the fact remains 
 that you tool* money that looks to me very much like a 
 brihe to shut your eyes.' 
 
 'Pshaw I pshaw! I had made up my mind. I was 
 full of anger against Eve. I would not have taken her 
 into my house had I met her. Fine scandals I should 
 have had with her there ! Better let her run and dis- 
 appear in the mud, than come muddy into my parlour and 
 besmirch all the furniture and me with it, and perhaps 
 damage the business. These children of mine have eaten 
 sour grapes, and the parent's teeth arc set on edge. It 
 all comes ' — the old man brought his fist down on the table 
 — ' of my accursed -folly in bringing strange blood into the 
 house, and now the chastisement is on me. Are you come 
 back to live with me, Jasper ? Will you help me again in 
 the mill ? ' 
 
 ' Never again, father, never,' answered the young man, 
 standing up. ' Never, after what I have just heard. I 
 shall do what I can to find my poor sister, Eve Jordan's 
 mother. It is a duty— a duty your neglect has left to me ; 
 a duty hard to take up after it has been laid aside for 
 seventeen years ; a duty betrayed for a sum of money.' 
 
 ' Pshaw ! ' The old man put his hands in his pockets, 
 and walked about the room. lie was shrank with age ; 
 his eagle profile was without beauty or dignity. 
 
 Jasper followed him with his eye, reproachfully, sor- 
 rowfully. 
 
 ' Father,' he said, • it seems to me as if that money 
 was hush-money, and that you, by taking it, had brought 
 the blood of your child on your own head.' 
 
 ' Blood ! Fiddlesticks ! Blood I There is no blood in 
 the case. If she chose to run, how was I to stop her ? 
 Blood, indeed 1 Red raddle 1 '
 
 BETRAYAL 199 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 BETRAYAL. 
 
 Barbara came out on the platform of rock. Eve stood 
 before her trembling, with downcast eyes, conscious of 
 having done wrong, and of being put in a position from 
 which it was difficult to escape. 
 
 Barbara had walked fast. She was hot and excited, 
 and her temper was roused. She loved Eve dearly, but 
 Eve tried her. 
 
 * Eve,' she said sharply, ' what is the meaning of this ? 
 Who has been here with you ? ' 
 
 The young girl hung her head. 
 
 • What is the meaning of tins ? ' she repeated, and 
 her tone of voice showed her irritation. Barbara bad a 
 temper. 
 
 Eve murmured an inarticulate reply. 
 
 ' What is it ? I cannot understand. Jane came tear- 
 ing home with a rhodomontade about a boy jumping down 
 on her from a tree, and I saw him just now at the gate 
 making faces at me. He put his lingers into his mouth, 
 hooted like an owl, and dived into the bushes. What is 
 the meaning of this ? ' 
 
 Eve burst into tears, and bid her face on her sister's 
 neck. 
 
 ' Come, come,' said Barbara, somewhat mollified, • I 
 must be told all. Your giddiness is leading you into a 
 hobble. Who was that on the rock with you ? I caught 
 a glimpse of a man as I passed the Scotch fir, and I thought 
 the voice I heard was that of Jasper.' 
 
 The girl still cried, cried out of confusion, because she 
 did not know how to answer her sister. She must not 
 tell the truth ; the secret had been confided to her. Poor 
 Martin's safety must not bo jeopardised by her. Barbara
 
 200 EVE 
 
 was so hot, impetuous, and frank, that she might let out 
 about him, and so he might bo arrested. What was she 
 to say and do '? 
 
 ' Come buck with me,' said Barbara, drawing her 
 sister's hand through her arm. ' Now, then, Eve, thero 
 must be no secrets with me. You have no mother ; I 
 stand to you in the place of mother and sister in one. 
 Was that Jasper ? ' 
 
 Eve's hand quivered on her sister's arm ; in a faint 
 voice she answered, ' Yes, Barbara.' Had Miss Jordan 
 looked round she would have seen her sister's face crimson 
 with shame. But Barbara turned her eyes aw r ay to the 
 far-off pearly range of Cornish mountains, sighed, and 
 said nothing. 
 
 The two girls walked together through the wood 
 without speaking till they came to the gate, and there 
 they entered the atmosphere of honeysuckle frag- 
 rance. 
 
 ' Perhaps that boy thought he would scare me as ho 
 scared Jane,' said Barbara. ' He w r as mistaken. Who 
 was he ? ' 
 
 ' Jasper's brother,' answered Eve in a low tone. She 
 was full of sorrow and humiliation at having told Barbara 
 an untruth, her poor little soul was tossed with conflicting 
 emotions, and Barbara felt her emotion through the little 
 hand resting on her arm. Eve had joined her hands, so 
 that as she walked she was completely linked to her dear 
 elder sister. 
 
 Presently Eve said timidly, ' Bab, darling, it was net 
 Mr. Jasper.' 
 
 • Who was the man then ? ' 
 ' I cannot, I must not, tell.' 
 
 ' That will do,' said Barbara decidedly ; ' say no moro 
 about it, Eve ; I know that you met Jasper Babb and no 
 one else.' 
 
 ' Well,' whispered Eve, ' don't be cross with me. I 
 did not know he was there. I had no idea.'
 
 BETRAYAL 201 
 
 ' It was Mr. Babb ? ' asked Barbara, suddenly turning 
 and looking steadily at her. 
 
 Here was an opportunity offered a poor, weak creature. 
 Eve trembled, and after a moment's vacillation fell into 
 the pitfall unconsciously dug for her by her sister. ' It 
 was Mr. Babb, dear Barbara.' 
 
 Miss Jordan said no more, her bosom was heaving. 
 Perhaps she could not speak. She was angry, troubled, 
 distracted ; angry at the gross imposition practised by 
 Jasper in pretending to leave the place, whilst lurking 
 about it to hold secret meetings with her sister ; 
 troubled she was because she feared that Eve had 
 connived at his proceedings, and had lost her heart 
 to him — troubled also because she could not tell to what 
 this would lead ; distracted she was, because she did not 
 know what steps to take. Before she reached home she 
 had made up her mind, and on reaching Morwell she acted 
 on it with promptitude, leaving Eve to go to her room or 
 stay below as suited her best. 
 
 She went direct to her father. He was sitting up, 
 looking worse and distressed ; his pale forehead was 
 beaded with perspiration ; his shaking hand clutched the 
 table, then relaxed its hold, then clutched again. 
 
 ' Are you feeling worse, papa ? ' 
 
 1 No,' he answered, without looking at her, but with his 
 dazed eyes directed through the window. ' No — only for 
 black thoughts. They come flying to me. If you stand 
 at evening under a great rock, as soon as the sun sets you 
 see from all quarters the ravens flying towards it, uttering 
 doleful cries, and they enter into the clefts and disappear 
 for the night. The whole rock all night is alive with 
 ravens. So is it with me. As my day .declines the sor- 
 rows and black thoughts come back to lodge in me, and 
 torment me with their clawing and pecking and croaking. 
 There is no driving them away. They come back.' 
 
 1 Dear papa,' said Barbara, ' I am afraid I must add to 
 them. I have something very unpleasant to communicate.'
 
 202 EVE 
 
 1 1 suppdse,* said Mr. Jordan peevishly, ' you are out of 
 coffee, or the lemons are mouldy, or the sheets have been 
 torn on the thorn hedge. These matters do nottrouhle 
 me.' lie signed with his finger. 'They arc like black 
 spots in the air, but instead of floating they fly, and they 
 all fly one way — towards me.' 
 ' Father, I am afraid for Eve ! ' 
 
 4 What ? ' His face was full of terror. ■ What of her ? 
 What is there to fear ? Is she ill ? ' 
 
 ' It is, dearest papa, as I foresaw. She has set her 
 heart on Mr. Jasper, and she meets him secretly. He 
 asked leave of you yesterday to go home to Buckfastleigh ; 
 but he has not gone there. He lias not left this neigh- 
 bourhood. He is secreting himself somewhere, and this 
 evening he met darling Eve on the Eaven Rock, when he 
 knew you were here ill, and I was in the house with you.' 
 ' I cannot believe it,' said Mr. Jordan, with every token 
 of distress, wiping his wet brow with his thin hands, clasp- 
 ing his hands, plucking at his waistcoat, biting his quiver- 
 ing lips. 
 
 ' It is true, dearest papa. Eve took Jane with her a3 
 far as the gate, and there an ugly boy, who, Eve tells mo, 
 is Jasper's brother, scared the girl away. I hurried off to 
 the Rock as soon as told of this, and I saw through an 
 opening of the trees someone with Eve, and heard a voice 
 like that of Mr. Jasper. When I charged Eve with having 
 met him, she could not deny it.' 
 
 « What does he want ? Why did he ask to leave ? ' 
 1 1 can put but one interpretation on his conduct. I 
 have for some time suspected a growing attachment be- 
 tween him and Eve. I suppose he knows that you never 
 
 would consent ' 
 
 ' Never, never ! ' He clenched his hands, raised them 
 over his head, uttered a cry, and dropped them. 
 
 ' Ho be careful, dear papa,' said Barbara. « You forget 
 your wound ; you must not raise your right arm.' 
 
 1 It cannot be I It cannot be 1 Never, never I ' He
 
 BETRAYAL 203 
 
 was intensely moved, and paid no heed to Ins daughter's 
 caution. She caught his right hand, held it between her 
 own firmly, and kissed it. ' My God ! ' cried the unhappy 
 man. • Spare me this ! It cannot ho ! The black spots 
 come thick as rain.' He waved his left hand as though 
 warding off something. ' JSlot as rain— as bullets.' 
 
 ' No, papa, as you say, it never, never can be.' 
 
 ' Never ! ' he said eagerly, his wild eyes kindling with 
 a lambent terror. ' There stands between them a barrier 
 that must cut them off the one from the other for ever. 
 But of that you know nothing.' 
 
 ' It is so,' said Barbara ; ' there does stand an impass- 
 able barrier between them. I know more than you sup- 
 pose, dear papa. Knowing what I do 1 have wondered at 
 your permitting his presence in this house.' 
 
 ' You know ? ' He looked at her, and pressed his brow- 
 ' And Eve, does she know ? ' 
 
 'She knows nothing,' answered Barbara; 'I alone — 
 that is, you and I together — alone know all about him. I 
 found out when he first came here, and was ill.' 
 
 1 From anything ho said ? ' 
 
 * No — I found a bundle of his clothes.' 
 
 • I do not understand.' 
 
 1 It came about this way. There was a roll on the saddle 
 of his horse, and when I came to undo it, that I might put 
 it away, I found that it was a convict suit.' Mr. Jordan 
 stared. ' Yes ! ' continued Barbara, speaking quickly, 
 anxious to get the miserable tale told. ' Yes, papa, I 
 found the garments which betrayed him. When he came 
 to himself I showed them to him, and asked if they were 
 his. Afterwards I heard all the particulars : how he bad 
 robbed his own father of the money laid by to repay you 
 an old loan, how his father had prosecuted him, and how 
 he had been sent to prison ; how also he had escaped from 
 prison. It was as he was flying to the Tamar to cross it, 
 and get as far as he could from pursuit, that he met with 
 his accident, and remained here.'
 
 204 EVE 
 
 1 Merciful Leaven ! ' exclaimed Mr. Jordan ; ' you knew 
 all this, and never told me ! ' 
 
 ' I told no one,' answered Barbara, ' because I promised 
 him that I would not betray him, and even now I would 
 have said nothing about it but that you tell me that ycu 
 l:now it as well as I. No,' she added, after having drawn 
 a long breath, 'no, not even after all the provocation he 
 has given would I betray him.' 
 
 Mi*. Jordan looked as one dazed. 
 
 'Where then are these clothes — this convict 3uit ? ' 
 
 ' In the garret. I hid them there.' 
 
 * Let me see them. I cannot yet understand.' 
 Barbara left the room, and shortly returned with the 
 
 bundle. She unfolded it, and spread the garments before 
 her father. He rubbed his eyes, pressed hi3 knuckles 
 against hi3 temples, and stared at them with astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 ' So, then, it was he— Jasper Babb— who stole Eve's 
 money ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, papa.' 
 
 ' And he was taken and locked up for doing 60— 
 where ? ' 
 
 ' In Prince's Town prison.' 
 
 • And he escaped ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, papa. As I was on my way to Ashburton, I 
 passed through Prince's Town, and thus heard of it.' 
 
 ' Barbara ! why did you keep this secret from me ? If 
 I had known it, I would have run and taken the news 
 myself to the police and the warders, and have had him 
 recaptured whilst he wa3 ill in bed, unable to escape.' 
 
 It was now Barbara's turn to express surprise. 
 
 •But, dear papa, what do you mean? You have told 
 me yourself that you knew all about Mr. Jasper.' 
 
 ' I knew nothing of this. My God ! How thick the 
 black spots are, and how big and pointed ! ' 
 
 ' Papa dear, what do you moan ? You assured me 
 you knew everything.'
 
 BETRAYAL 205 
 
 ' I knew nothing of this. I had not the least sus- 
 picion.' 
 
 ' But, papa ' — Barbara was sick with terror — ' you tcld 
 me that this stood as a bar between him and Eve ? ' 
 
 'No — Barbara. I said that there was a barrier, but 
 not this. Of this I was ignorant.' 
 
 The room swam round witb Barbara. She uttered a 
 faint cry, and put tbe back of her clenched bands against 
 her mouth to choke another rising cry. ' I have betrayed 
 him 1 My God 1 My God ! What have I done ? ' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 CALLED TO ACCOUNT. 
 
 1 Go,' said Mr. Jordan, 'bring Eve to me.' 
 
 Barbara obeyed mechanically. She bad betrayed Jas- 
 per. Her father would not spare him. The granite walls 
 of Prince's Town prison rose before her, in the midst of a 
 waste as bald as any in Greenland or Siberia. She called 
 her sister, bade her go into her father's room, and then, 
 standing in the hall, placed her elbows on the window 
 ledge, and rested her brow and eyes in her palms. Shf 
 was consigning Jasper back to that miserable jail. She 
 was incensed against him. She knew that he was un- 
 worthy of her regard, that he had forfeited all right to her 
 consideration, and yet — she pitied him. She could not 
 bring herself to believe that he was utterly bad ; to send 
 him again to prison was to ensure his complete ruin. 
 
 ' Eve,' said Mr. Jordan, when his youngest daughter 
 came timidly into the room, ' tell me, whom did you meet 
 on the Raven Rock ? ' 
 
 The girl hung her head and made no reply. She stood 
 as a culprit before a judge, conscious that his case is hope* 
 less.
 
 2o6 E VE 
 
 'Eve,' lie said again, ' I insist on knowing. Whom 
 did you meet? ' 
 
 She tried to speak, but something rose in her throat, 
 anil choked her. She raised her eyes timidly to her father, 
 who had never, hitherto, spoken an angry word to her. 
 Tears and entreaty were in her eyes, hut the room was 
 dark, night had fallen, and he could not see her face. 
 
 ' Eve, tell me, was it Babb ? ' 
 
 She burst into a storm of sobs, and threw herself on 
 her knees. ' papa ! sweetest, dearest papa ! Do not 
 ask me ! I must not tell. I promised him not to say. It 
 ij as much as his life is worth. lie says he never will be 
 taken alive. If it were known that he was here the police 
 would be after him. Papa dear ! ' she clasped and fondled, 
 and kissed his hand, she bathed it in her tears, ' do not be 
 angry with me. I can bear anything but that. I do love 
 you so, dear, precious papa ! ' 
 
 'My darling,' he replied, 'I am not angry. I am 
 troubled. I am on a rock and hold you in my arms, and 
 the black sea is rising — I can feel it. Leave me alone, I 
 am not myself.' 
 
 An hour later Barbara came in. 
 
 ' What, papa — without a light ? ' 
 
 ' Yes — it is dark everywhere, within as without. The 
 black spots have run one into another and filled me. It 
 will be better soon. When Jasper Babb shows his face 
 again, he shall be given up.' 
 
 ' papa, let him escape this time. All we now want 
 is to get him away from this place, away from Eve.' 
 
 ' All we now want ! ' repeated Mr. Jordan. 'Let the 
 man oil' who has beggared Eve! ' 
 
 ' Papa. Eve will be well provided for.' 
 
 1 He ha; robbed her.' 
 
 'Bui, dear papa, consider. He has been jour guest. 
 He ha:; worked for yon, he has eaten at your table, par- 
 taken of your salt. When you were hurt, he carried you 
 to your bed. lie has been a devoted servant to you.'
 
 CALLED TO ACCOUNT 207 
 
 ' YVe are quits,' said Mr. Jordan; ' He was nursed 
 when he was ill. That makes up for all the good he has 
 done me. Then there is that other account which can 
 never he made up.' 
 
 1 1 am sure, papa, he repents.' 
 
 ' And tries to snatch away Eve, as he has snatched 
 away her fortune ? ' 
 
 ' Papa, there I think he may be excused. Consider how 
 beautiful Eve is. It is quite impossible for a man to see 
 her and not love her. I do not myself know what love is, 
 but I have read about it, and I have fancied to myself what 
 it is — a kind of madness that comes on one, and obscures 
 the judgment. I do not believe that Mr. Jasper had any 
 thought of Eve at first, but little by little she won him. 
 You know, papa, how she has run after him, like a kitten ; 
 and so she has stolen his heart out of his breast before he 
 knew what she was about. Then, after that, everything — 
 honour, duty went. I dare say it is very hard for one who 
 loves to think calmly and act conscientiously ! Would you 
 like the lights brought in, papa ? ' 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 1 You must not remain up longer than you can bear,' 
 she said. She took a seat on a stool, and leaned her head 
 on her hand, her elbow resting on her knee. ' Papa, whilst 
 I have been waiting in the hall, I have turned the whole 
 matter over and over in my mind. Papa, I suppose that 
 Eve's mother was very, very beautiful ? ' 
 
 He sighed in the dark and put his hands together. 
 The pale twilight through the window shone on them ; 
 they were white and ghost-like. 
 
 * Papa dear, I suppose that you saw her when she was 
 ill every day, and got to love her. I dare say you struggled 
 against the feeling, but your heart was too strong for your 
 head and carried your resolutions away, just as I have seen 
 a flood on the Tamar against the dam at Abbotswcar ; it 
 has burst through all obstructions, and in a moment every 
 trace of the dam has disappeared. You were under the
 
 *o8 EVE 
 
 panic roof with her. Then there came a great ache here ' 
 ^slie touched her heart — ' allowing you no rest. Well, 
 dear papa, I think it must have hcen so with Mr. Babb. 
 He saw our dear sweet Eve daily, and love for her swelled 
 in his heart ; he formed the strongest resolutions, and 
 platted them with the toughest considerations, and stamped 
 and wedged them in with vigorous effort, but all was of no 
 avail — the flood rose and burst over it and carried all 
 away.' 
 
 Mr. Jordan was touched by the allusion to his dead or 
 lost wife, but not in the manner Barbara intended. 
 
 ' I have heard,' continued Barbara, ' that Eve's mother 
 was brought to this house very ill, and that you cared for 
 her till she was recovered. Was it in this room ? Was it 
 in this bed ? ' 
 
 She heard a low moan, and saw the white hands raised 
 in deprecation, or in prayer. 
 
 ' Then you sat here and watched her ; and when sho 
 was in fever you suffered ; when her breath came so faint 
 that you thought she was dying, your very soul stood on 
 tiptoe, agonised. When her eyes opened with reason in 
 them, your heart leaped. When she slept, you sat here 
 with your eyes on her face and could not withdraw them. 
 Perhaps you took her hand in the night, when she was 
 vexed with horrible dreams, and the pulse of your heart 
 sent its waves against her hot, tossing, troubled heart, and 
 little by little cooled that fire, and brought peace to that 
 unrest. Papa, I dare say that somehow thus it came 
 about that Eve got interested in Mr. Jasper and grew to 
 love him. I often let her take my place when he was ill. 
 You must excuse dearest Eve. It was my fault. I should 
 have been more cautious. But I thought nothing of it 
 then. I knew nothing of how love is sown, and throws up 
 its leaves, and spreads and fills the whole heart with a 
 tangle of roots.' 
 
 In this last half hour Barbara had drawn nearer to her 
 father than in all her previouD life. For once she had
 
 CALLED TO ACCOUNT 209 
 
 entered into his thoughts, roused old recollections, both 
 sweet and bitter — inexpressibly sweet, unutterably bitter — 
 and his heart was full of tears. 
 
 ' Was Eve's mother as beautiful as our darling ? ' 
 
 ' yes, Barbara ! ' His voice shook, and he raised his 
 white hands to cover his eyes. ' Even more beautiful.' 
 
 'And you loved her with all your heart ? ' 
 
 1 1 have never ceased to love her. It is that, Barbara, 
 which '—he put his hands to his head, and she understood 
 him— which disturbed his brain. 
 
 'But,' he said, suddenly as waking from a dream, 
 ' Barbara, how do you know all this > Who told 
 you ? ' 
 
 She did not answer him, but she rose, knelt on the 
 stool, put her arms round his neck, and kissed him. Her 
 cheeks were wet. 
 
 ' You are crying, Barbara.' 
 
 1 1 am thinking of your sorrows, dear papa.' 
 
 She was still kneeling on one knee, with her arms 
 round her father. ' Poor papa ! I want to know really 
 what became of Eve's mother.' 
 
 The door was thrown open. 
 
 ' Yes ; that is what I have come to ask,' said Jasper, 
 entering the room, holding a wax candle in each hand. 
 He had intercepted the maid, Jane, with the candles, 
 taken them from her, and as she opened the door entered, 
 to hear Barbara's question. The girl turned, dropped one 
 arm, but clung with the other to her father, who had just 
 placed one of his hands on her head. Her eyes, from 
 having been so long in the dark, were very large. She 
 was pale, and her cheeks glistened with tears. 
 
 She was too astonished to recover herself at once, 
 dazzled by the strong light ; she could not see Jasper, but 
 she knew his voice. 
 
 He put the candlesticks— they were of silver — on the 
 table, shut the door behind him, and standing before Mr. 
 Jordan with bowed head, his earnest eyes fixed on the old 
 
 jp
 
 2io EVE 
 
 man's face, lie said again, ' Yes, that is what I have come 
 to ask. Where is Eve's mother ? ' 
 
 No one spoke. Barbara recovered herself first ; she 
 rose from the stool, and stepped between her father and 
 the steward. 
 
 'It is not you,' she said, 'who have a right to ask 
 questions. It is we who have to call you to account.' 
 
 ' For what, Miss Jordan ? ' He spoke to her with 
 deference— a certain tone of reverence which never left 
 him when addressing her. 
 
 ' You must give an account of yourself,' she said. 
 
 ' I am just returned from Buckfastleigh,' he answered. 
 
 ' And, pray, how is your father who was dying ? ' she 
 asked, with a curl of her lip and a quiver of contempt in 
 her voice. 
 
 ' He is well,' replied Jasper. ' I was deceived about 
 his sickness. He has not been ill. I was sent on a fool's 
 errand.' 
 
 ' Then,' said Mr. Jordan, who had recovered himself, 
 ' what about the money ? ' 
 
 ' The recovery of that is as distant as ever, but also as 
 certain.' 
 
 ' Mr. Jasper Babb,' exclaimed Ignatius Jordan, 'you 
 have not been to Buckfastleigh at all. You have not seen 
 your father; you have deceived me with ' 
 
 Barbara hastily interrupted him, saying with beating 
 heart, and with colour rising to her pale checks, ' I pray 
 you, I pray you, say no more. We know very well that 
 you have not left this neighbourhood.' 
 
 ' I do not understand you, Miss Jordan. I am but just 
 returned. My horse is not yet unsaddled.' 
 
 ' Not another word,' exclaimed the girl, with pain in 
 her voice. ' Not another word if you wish us to retain a 
 particle of regard for you. I have pitied you, I have 
 excused you but if you lie — I have said the word, I can- 
 not withdraw it— I give you up.' Fire was in her heart, 
 tears in her throat
 
 CALLED TO ACCOUNT 21 1 
 
 • I will speak,' said Jasper. ' I value your regard, 
 Miss Jordan, above everything that the world contains. 
 I cannot tamely lose that. There has been a misappre- 
 hension. How it has arisen I do not know, but arisen it 
 has, and dissipated it shall be. It is true, as I said, that 
 I was deceived about my father's condition, wilfully, 
 maliciously deceived. I rode yesterday to Buckfastleigh, 
 and have but just returned. If my father had been dying 
 you would not have seen me here so soon.' 
 
 ' We cannot listen to this. We cannot endure this,' 
 cried Barbara. ' Will you madden me, after all that has 
 been done for you ? It is cruel, cruel ! ' Then, unable 
 to control the flood of tears that rose to her eyes, she left 
 the room and the glare of candles. 
 
 Jasper approached Mr. Jordan. He had not lost his 
 Belf-restraint. • I do not comprehend this charge of false- 
 hood brought against me. I can bring you a token that I 
 have seen my father, a token you will not dispute. He 
 has told me who your second wife was. She was my 
 sister. Will you do me the justice to say that you believe 
 me?' 
 
 • Yes,' answered the old man, faintly. 
 
 ' May I recall Miss Jordan ? I cannot endure that she 
 should suppose me false.' 
 
 1 If you will.' 
 
 1 One word more. Do you wish our kinship to be 
 known to her, or is it to be kept a secret, at least for a 
 While ? ' 
 
 ' Do not tell her.' 
 
 Then Jasper went out into the hall. Barbara was there, 
 in the window, looking out into the dusk through the dull 
 -old glass of the lattice. 
 
 • Miss Jordan,' said he, • I have ventured to ask you to 
 return to your father, and receive his assurance that I 
 spoke the truth.' 
 
 'But,' exclaimed Barbara, turning roughly upon him, 
 "•you were on the Raven Bock with my sister at sunset,
 
 112 
 
 I'E 
 
 and had your brother planted at the gate to watch against 
 intruders.' 
 
 ■ My brother ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, a boy.' 
 
 ' I do not understand you,' 
 
 ' It is true. I saw him, I saw you. Eve confessed it. 
 What do you say to that ? ' 
 
 Jasper bit his thumb. 
 
 Barbara laughed bitterly. 
 
 1 1 know why you pretended to go away — because a 
 policeman was here on Sunday, and you were afraid. Take 
 care ! I have betraved vou. Your secret is known. You 
 are not safe here.' 
 
 ' Miss Jordan,' said the young man quietly, ' you are 
 mistaken. I did not meet your sister. I would not de- 
 ceive you for all the world contains. I warn you that 
 Miss Eve is menaced, and I was sent out of the way lest 
 I should be here to protect her.' 
 
 Barbara gave a little contemptuous gasp. 
 
 1 1 cannot listen to you any longer,' she said angrily. 
 • Take my warning. Leave this place. It is no longer 
 safe. I tell you — I, yes, I have betrayed yen.' 
 
 ' I will not go,' said Jasper, • I dare not. I have the 
 interest of your family too near my heart to leave.' 
 
 ' You will not go ! ' exclaimed Barbara, trembling with 
 anger and scorn. ' I neither believe you, nor trust you. 
 I' — she set her teeth and said through them, with her 
 heart in her mouth — ' Jasper, I hale, you I ' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 WANDERING LIGHTS. 
 
 No sooner was Mr. Jordan left alone than his face became 
 ghastly, and his eyes were fixed with terror, as though he 
 saw before him some object of infinite horror. He put his
 
 WANDERING LIGHTS 213 
 
 quivering thin hands on the elbows of his armchair and 
 let himself slide to his knees, then he raised his hollow 
 eyes to heaven, and clasped his hands and wrung them ; 
 his lips moved, but no vocal prayers issued from them. 
 He lifted his hands above his head, uttered a cry and fell 
 forward on his face upon the oak floor. Near his hand 
 was his stick with which he rapped against the wall or on 
 the floor when he needed assistance. He laid hold of this, 
 and tried to raise himself, but faintness came over him, 
 and he fell again and lost all consciousness. 
 
 When he recovered sufficiently to see what and who 
 were about him, he found that he had been lifted on to his 
 bed by Jasper and Barbara, and that Jane was in the 
 room. His motion with his hands, his strain to raise 
 himself, had disturbed the bandages and reopened his 
 wound, which was again bleeding, and indeed had soaked 
 through his clothes and stained the floor. 
 
 He said nothing, but his eyes watched and followed 
 Jasper with a mixture of hatred and fear in them. 
 
 ' He irritates me,' he whispered to his daughter ; ' send 
 him out. I cannot endure to see him.' 
 
 Then Barbara made an excuse for dismissing Jasper. 
 When he was gone, Mr. Jordan's anxiety instead of 
 being allayed was increased. He touched his daughter, 
 and drew her ear to him, and whispered, ' Where is he 
 now ? What is ho doing ? ' 
 
 1 1 do not know, papa. He is probably in his room.' 
 ' Go and see.' 
 
 1 Papa dear, I cannot do that. Do you want him ? ' 
 ' Do I want him ? No, Barbara, but I do not choose 
 that he shall escape. Go and look if there is a light in 
 his window.' 
 
 She was about to send Jane, when her father impa- 
 tiently insisted on her going herself. Wondering at his 
 caprice she obeyed. 
 
 No sooner was the door closed behind her, than tha 
 old man signed Jane Welsh tq pome near him.
 
 214 EVE 
 
 1 Jane,' he said in a whitiper, ' I want you to do some- 
 thing for me. No one must know ahout it. You have a 
 sweetheart, I've heard, the policeman, Joseph Woodman, 
 at Tavistock.' 
 
 The girl pulled at the ends of her apron, and looking 
 down, said, ' Lawk ! How folks do talk ! ' 
 
 ' Is it true, Jane ? ' 
 
 ' Well, sir, I won't deny us have heen keeping com- 
 pany, and on Sunday went to a love-feast together.' 
 
 1 That is well,' said Mr. Jordan earnestly, with his wild 
 eyes gleaming. ' Quick, heforo my daughter comes. 
 Stand nearer. No one must hear. Would you do Joseph 
 a good turn and get him a sergeantry ? ' 
 
 ' please, sir ! ' 
 
 1 Then run as fast as you can to Tavistock.' 
 
 ' Please, sir, I durstn't. It he night and it's whisht ' 
 over the moor.' 
 
 ■ Then leave it, and I will send someone else, and you 
 will lose your lover.' 
 
 'What do you want me to do, sir? I wouldn't have 
 that neither.' 
 
 1 Then run to Tavistock, and tell Joseph Woodman to 
 communicate at once with the warder of the Frince's 
 Town jail, and bid him bring sufficient men with him, and 
 come here, and I will deliver into their hands a runaway 
 convict, a man who broke out of jail not long ago.' 
 
 ' Please, sir, where is he ? Lawk, sir ! What if he 
 were on the moor as I went over it ? ' 
 
 ' Never mind where he is. I will produce him at the 
 right moment. Above all — Jane — remember this, not a 
 word of what I have said to Mr. Jasper or to Miss Barbara. 
 Go secretly, and go at once. Hush ! Here she comes.' 
 
 Barbara entered. ' A light is in his window,' she said. 
 Then her father laughed, and shut his hands. 
 
 1 So,' he muttered, ' so I shall snap him.' 
 
 1 Whisht = uncanny.
 
 WANDERING LIGHTS 215 
 
 When her father was composed, and seemed inclined 
 to sleep, Barbara left his room, and went out of the house. 
 She needed to be by herself. Her bosom heaved. She 
 had so much to think of, so many troubles had come upon 
 her, the future was dark, the present uncertain. 
 
 If she were in the house she would not be able to 
 enjoy that quiet for which she craved, in which to compose 
 the tumult of her heart, and arrange her ideas. There 
 she was sure to be disturbed : a maid would ask for a 
 duster, or another bunch of candles ; the cook would send 
 to announce that the chimney of the kitchen was out of 
 order, the soot or mortar was falling down it ; the laundry- 
 maid would ask for soap ; Eve would want to be amused. 
 Every other minute she would have some distracting 
 though trifling matter forced on her. She must be alone. 
 Her heart yearned for it. She would not go to the Rock, 
 the association with it was painful. It was other with the 
 moor, Morwell Down, open to every air, without a tree 
 behind which an imp might lurk and hoot and make 
 
 mows. 
 
 Accordingly, without saying a word to anyone, Bar- 
 bara stole along the lane to the moor. 
 
 That was a sweet summer night. The moon was not 
 yet risen, the stars were in the sky, not many, for the 
 heaven was not dark, but suffused with lost sunlight. To 
 the east lay the range of Dartmoor mountains, rugged and 
 grey ; to the west, peaked and black against silver, the 
 Cornish tors. But all these heights on this night were 
 scintillating with golden moving spots of fire. The time 
 had come for what is locally called ' swaling,' that is, 
 firing the whinbrakes. In places half a hill side was 
 flaked with red flame, then it flared yellow, then died 
 away. Clouds of smoke, tinged with fire reflection from 
 below, rolled away before the wind. When the conflagra- 
 tion reached a dense and tall tree-like mass of gorse the 
 flame rose in a column, or wavered like a golden tongue. 
 Then, when the material was exhausted and no contiguous
 
 2i6 EVE 
 
 brake continued the fire, the conflagration ended, and left 
 only a patch cf dull glowing scarlet ember. 
 
 Barbara leaned against the last stone hedge which 
 divided moor from field, and looked at the moving lights 
 without thinking of the beauty and wildness cf the spec- 
 tacle. She was steeped in her own thoughts, and was 
 never at any time keenly alive to the beautiful and the 
 fantastic. 
 
 She thought of Jasper. She had lost all faith in him. 
 He was false and deceitful. What could she believe about 
 that meeting on the Raven Rock ? He might have con- 
 vinced her father that he was not there. He could not 
 convince her. What was to be done ? Would her father 
 betray the man ? He was ill now and could do nothing. 
 Why was Jasper so obstinate as to refuse to leave ? Why '? 
 Because he was infatuated with Eve. 
 
 On that very down it was that Jasper had been thrown 
 and nearly killed. If only he had been killed outright. 
 Why had she nursed him so carefully? Far better to 
 have left him on the moor to die. How dare he aspire to 
 Eve? The touch of his hand carried a taint. Her brain 
 was dark, yet, like that landscape, full of wandering sparks 
 of five. She could not think clearly. She could not feel 
 composedly. Those moving, wavering fires, now rushing 
 up in sheaves of flame, now falling into a sullen glow 
 burnt on the sides of solid mountains, but her fiery 
 thoughts, that sent a blaze into her cheek and eye, and 
 then died into a slow heat, moved over tossing billows of 
 emotion. She put her hand to her head as if by grasping 
 it she could bring her thoughts to a standstill ; she pressed 
 her hands against her bosom, as if by so doing she could 
 fix her emotions. The stars in the serene sky burned 
 steadily, ever of one brightness. Below, these wandering 
 fires flared, glowed, and went out. Was it not a picture 
 of the contrast between life on earth and life in the settled 
 celestial habitations ? Barbara was not a girl with much 
 fancy, but some such a thought came into her mind, and
 
 WANDERING LIGHTS 217 
 
 might have taken form had not she at the moment scon a 
 dark figure issue from the lane. 
 
 'Who goes there?' she called imperiously. 
 
 The figure stopped, and after a moment answered: 
 'Oh, Miss! you have a-given me a turn. It be me, Jane.' 
 
 'And pray,' said Barbara, 'what brings you here at 
 night? "Whither are you going?' 
 
 The girl hesitated, and groped in her mind for an ex- 
 cuse. Then she said : 'I want, miss, to go to Tavistock.' 
 
 'To Tavistock ! It is too late. Go home to bed.' 
 
 'I must go, Miss Barbara. I'm sure I don't want to. 
 I'm scared of my life, but the master have sent me, and 
 what can I do ? He've a-told me to go to Joseph Wood- 
 man.' 
 
 ' It is impossible, at this time. It must not be.' 
 
 'But, Miss, I premised I'd go, and sure enough I don't 
 half like it, over those downs at night, and nobody knows 
 what one may meet. I wouldn't be caught by the Whish 
 Hounds and Black Copplestone, not for ' — the girl's 
 imagination was limited, so she concluded, ' well, Miss, 
 not for nothing.' 
 
 Barbara considered a moment, and then said, 'I have 
 no fear. I will accompany you over the Down, till you 
 come to habitations. I am not afraid of returning alone.' 
 
 ' Thank you, Miss Barbara, you be wonderfully good.' 
 
 The girl was, indeed, very grateful for her company. 
 She had had her nerves sorely shaken by the encounter 
 with Watt, and now in the fulness of her thankfulness she 
 confided to her mistress all that Mr. Jordan had said, 
 concluding with her opinion that probably 'It was naught 
 but a fancy of the Squire; he do have fancies at times. 
 Howsomevcr, us must humour 'm.' 
 
 Jasper also had gone forth. In his breast also was 
 trouble, and a sharp pain, that had come with a spasm 
 when Barbara told him how she hated him. 
 
 But Jasper did not go to Morwell Down. He went 
 towards the Raven Bock that lay on the farther side of
 
 218 EVE 
 
 the house. He also desired to be alone and under the 
 calm sky. He was stifled by the air of a house, depressed 
 by the ceiling. 
 
 The words of Barbara had wounded him rather than 
 stung him. She had not only told him that she hated 
 him, but had given the best proof of her sincerity by 
 betraying him. Suspecting him of carrying on an un- 
 worthy intrigue with Eve, she had sacrificed him to save 
 her sister. He could not blame her, her first duty was 
 towards Eve. One comfort he had that, though Barbara 
 had betrayed him, she did not seek his punishment, she 
 sought only his banishment from Monvell. 
 
 Once — just once — he had half opened her heart, 
 looked in, and fancied he had discovered a tender regard 
 for him lurking in its bottom. Since then Barbara had 
 sought every opportunity of disabusing his mind of such 
 an idea. And now, this night, she had poured out her 
 heart at his feet, and shown him hatred, not love. 
 
 Jasper's life had been one of self-denial. There had 
 been little joy in it. Anxieties had beset him from early 
 childhood; solicitude for his brother, care not to offend 
 his father. By nature he had a very loving heart, but ho 
 had grown up with none to love save his brother, who had 
 cruelly abused his love. A joyous manhood never ensues 
 on a joyless boyhood. Jasper was always sensible of an 
 inner sadness, even when he was happy. His brightest 
 joys were painted on a sombre background, but then, how 
 much brighter they seemed by the contrast— alas, only, 
 that they were so few! The circumstances of his rearing 
 had driven him in upon himself, so that ho lived an inner 
 life, which he shared with no one, and which was un- 
 perceived by all. Now, as he stood on the Rock, with an 
 ache at his heart, Jasper uncovered his head, and looked 
 into the softly lighted vault, set with a few faint stars. 
 As he stood thus with his hands folded over his hat, and 
 looked westward at the clear, cold, silvery sky behind and 
 over the Cornish moors, an unutterable yearning strained
 
 WANDERING LIGHTS 219 
 
 his heart. He said no word, lie thought no thought. He 
 simply stood uncovered under the summer night sky, and 
 from his heart his pain exhaled. 
 
 Did he surmise that at that same time Barbara waa 
 standing on the moor, also looking away beyond the 
 horizon, also suffering, yearning, without knowing for 
 what she longed ? No, he had no thought of that. 
 
 And as both thus stood far removed in body, but one 
 in sincerity, suffering, fidelity, there shot athwart the 
 vault of heaven a brilliant dazzling star. 
 
 Mr. Coyshe at his window, smoking, said: 'By Ginger! 
 a meteor ! ' 
 
 But was it not an angel bearing the dazzling chalice 
 of the sangreal from highest heaven, from the region of 
 the still stars, down to this world of flickering, fading, 
 wandering fires, to minister therewith balm to two dis- 
 tressed spirits ? 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIII. 
 
 THE OWLS. 
 
 Baubaka had been interrupted in her meditations, so wa9 
 Jasper. As he stood lost in a painful dream, but with a 
 dew from heaven falling on his parched soul, suddenly he 
 was startled out of his abstraction by a laugh and an ex- 
 clamation at his elbow. 
 
 'Well, Jasper, composing verses to the weak-eyed Leah 
 or the blue-orbed Eachel ? ' 
 
 ' What brings you here, Watt ? ' asked Jasper, dis- 
 guising his annoyance. 
 
 ' Or, my sanctimonious fox, arc you waiting here for 
 one of the silly geese to run to you ? ' 
 
 ' You have come here bent on mischief,' said Jasper, 
 disdaining to notice his jokes. 
 
 The evening, the still scene, the solitary platform raised
 
 220 EVE 
 
 bo high above the land beyond, had seemed holy, soothing 
 as a church, and now, at once, with the sound of Walter's 
 voice, the feeling was gone, all seemed desecrated. 
 
 'Watt,' said Jasper, sternly, 'you sent me away to 
 Buckfastleigh by a lie. Why did you do that ? It ij 
 utterly false that my father is ill and dying.' 
 
 ' Is it so ? Then I dreamed it, Jasper. Morning 
 dreams come true, folks say. There, my brother, you are 
 a good, forgiving fellow. You will pardon me. The fact 
 is that Martin and I wanted to know how matters went at 
 home. I did not care to go myself, Martin could not go, 
 so — I sent you, my good simpleton.' 
 
 'You told me a lie.' 
 
 'If I had told you the truth you would not havo gone. 
 What was that we were taught at school? "Magna est 
 Veritas, et praovalcbit." I don't believe it; experience 
 tells me the contrary. Long live lies ; they win the day 
 all the world over.' 
 
 ' What brings you here ? ' 
 
 ' Have I not told you ? I desired to see you and to have 
 news of my father. You have been quick about it, Jasper. 
 I could scarce believe my eyes when I saw you riding 
 home.' 
 
 'You have been watching?' 
 
 ' Of course I have. My eyes are keen. Nothing 
 escapes them.' 
 
 ' Walter, this will not do. I am not deceived ; you did 
 not come here for the purpose you say. You want some- 
 thing else, what is it?' 
 
 The boy laughed, snapped his fingers, and began to 
 dance, whistling a tune, on the rock ; approaching, then 
 backing from Jasper. 
 
 ' Oh , you clever old Jasper ! ' he laughed, ' now you 
 begin to see— like the puppy pitched into the water-butt, 
 who opened his eyes when too late.' 
 
 Jasper folded his arms. He said nothing, but waited 
 till the boy's mad pranks came to an end. At last Watt,
 
 THE OWLS 221 
 
 seeing that lie could not provoke his brother, desisted, and 
 came to him with affected humility. 
 
 ' There, Jasper— Saint Jasper, I mean — I vrill be quiet 
 and go through my catechism.' 
 
 • Then tell me why you are here.' 
 
 ' Well, now, you shall hear our scheme. Martin and I 
 thought that you had better patch up your little quarrel 
 with father, and then we knew wc should have a good 
 friend at his ear to prompt forgiveness, and so, perhaps, as 
 his conscience stirred, his purse-strings might relax, and 
 you would be able to send us a trifle in money. Is not 
 this reasonable ? ' 
 
 Yes, there could be no denying it, this was reasonable 
 and consistent with the characters of the two, who would 
 value their father's favour only by what it would profit 
 them. Nevertheless Jasper was unsatisfied. Watt was 
 so false, so unscrupulous, that his word never could be 
 trusted. 
 
 Jasper considered for a few minutes, then he asked, 
 1 Where is Martin — is he here ? ' 
 
 ' Here ! ' jeered the boy, ' Martin here, indeed ! not he. 
 lie is in safe quarters. Where he is I will blab to no one, 
 not even to you. He sends me out from his ark of refuge 
 as the dove, or rather as the raven, to bring him news of 
 the world from which he is secluded.' 
 
 ' Walter, answer .me this. Who met Miss Eve this 
 evening on this very rock? Answer me truly. More 
 depends on this than you are aware of.' 
 
 ' Miss Eve ! What do you mean ? My sister who is 
 dead and gone ? I do not relish the company of ghosts.' 
 
 ' You know whom I mean. This is miserable evasion. 
 I mean the younger of the daughters of Mr. Jordan. She 
 was here at sundown this evening and someone was with 
 her. I conjure you by all that you hold sacred ' 
 
 • I hold nothing sacred,' said the boy. 
 
 • I conjure you most solemnly to tell me the whole 
 truth, as brother to brother.'
 
 222 EVE 
 
 1 Well, then — as brother to brother -I did.* 
 
 • For what purpose, "Watt ? ' 
 
 'My dear Jasper, can we live on air? Here am I 
 hopping about the woods, roosting in the branches, and 
 there is poor Martin mewed up in his ark. I must hud 
 food for him and myself. You know that I have made the 
 acquaintance of the young lady who, oddly enough, bears 
 the name of our dear departed mother and sister. I have 
 appealed to her compassion, and held out my hat for 
 money. I offered to dance on my head, to turn a wheel 
 all round the edge of this cliff, in jeopardy of my life for 
 half a guinea, and she gave me the money to prevent me 
 from risking broken bones.' 
 
 ' Oh, Watt, you should not have done this 1 ' 
 
 ' "We must live. We must have money.' 
 
 • But, Watt, where is all that which was taken from my 
 pocket ? ' 
 
 ' Gone,' answered the boy. ' Gone as the snow before 
 south-west wind. Nothing melts like money, not even 
 snow, no, nor butter, no, nor a girl's heart.' Then with a 
 sly laugh, ' Jasper, where does old addle-brains keep his 
 strong box ? ' 
 
 ' Walter ! ' exclaimed Jasper, indignantly. 
 
 • Ah ! ' laughed the boy, ' if I knew where it was I would 
 creep to it by a mouse hole, and put my little finger into 
 the lock, and when I turned that, open flies the box.' 
 
 ' Walter, forbear. You are a wicked boy.' 
 
 1 1 confess it. I glory in it. Father always said I was 
 predestined to ' 
 
 'Be silent,' ordered Jasper, angrily; 'you are insuf- 
 ferable.' 
 
 ' There, do not ruffle your feathers over a joke. Have 
 you some money to give me now ? ' 
 
 ' Watt,' said Jasper, very sternly, ' answer me frankly, 
 if you can. I warn you.' He laid his hand on the boy's 
 arm. ' A great deal depends on your giving me a truthful 
 answer. Is Martin anywhere hereabouts ? I fear ho is,-
 
 THE OWLS 223 
 
 in spite of your assurances, for where you are he is not 
 often far away. The jackal and the lion hunt together.' 
 
 'He is not here. Good-bye, old brother Grave-airs.' 
 Then he ran away, but before he had gone far turned and 
 booted like an owl, and ran on, and was lost in the gloom 
 of the woods, but still aslie ran hooted at intervals, and owls 
 answered his cry from the rocks, and flitted ghost-like about 
 in the dusk, seeking their brother who called them and 
 mocked at them. 
 
 Now that he was again alone, Jasper in vain sought to 
 rally his thoughts and recover his former frame of mind. 
 But that was not possible. Accordingly he turned home- 
 wards. 
 
 He was very tired. He had had two long days' ride, 
 and had slept little if at all the previous night. Though 
 recovered after his accident he was not perfectly vigorous, 
 and the two hard days and broken rest had greatly tired 
 him. On reaching Morwell he did not take a light, but 
 cast himself, in his clothes, on his bed, and fell into a heavy 
 sleep. 
 
 Barbara w 7 alked quietly back after having parted with 
 Jane. She hoped that Jasper had on second thoughts 
 taken the prudent course of escaping. It was inconceiva- 
 ble that he should remain and allow himself to be retaken- 
 She was puzzled how to explain his conduct. Then all at 
 once she remembered that she had left the convict suit in 
 her father's room ; she had forgotten to remove it. She 
 quickened her pace and arrived breathless at Morwell. 
 
 She entered her father's apartment on tiptoe. She 
 stood still and listened. A night-light burned on the floor, 
 and the enclosing iron pierced with round holes cast circles 
 of light about the walls. The candle was a rushlight of 
 feeble illuminating power. 
 
 Barbara could see her father lying, apparently asleep, in 
 bed, with his pale thin hands out, hanging down, clasped, 
 as if in prayer ; one of the spots of light danced over the 
 finger tips and nails. She heard him breathe, as in sleep.
 
 224 EVE 
 
 Then she stepped across the room to where she had 
 cast the suit of clothes. They lay in a grey heap, with the 
 spots of light avoiding them, dancing above them, but not 
 falling on them. 
 
 Barbara stooped to pick them up. 
 
 1 Stay, Barbara,' said her father. ' I hear you. I see 
 what you are doing. I know your purpose. Leave thoso 
 things where they lie.' 
 
 1 papa ! dear papa, suffer me to put them away.' 
 
 ' Let them lie there, where I can see them.' 
 
 ' But, papa, what will the maids think when they come 
 in ? Besides it is untidy to let them litter about the 
 floor.' 
 
 He made an impatient gesture with his hand. 
 
 ' May I not, at least, fold them and lay them on the 
 chair ? ' 
 
 1 You may not touch them at all,' he said in a tone of 
 irritation. She knew his temper too well to oppose him 
 further. 
 
 ' Good night, dear papa. I suppose Eve is gone to 
 bed ? ' 
 
 1 Yes; go also.' 
 
 She was obliged, most reluctantly, to leave the room. 
 She ascended the stairs, and entered her own sleeping 
 apartment. From this a door communicated with that of 
 her sister. She opened this door and with her light en- 
 tered and crossed it. 
 
 Eve had gone to bed, and thrown all her clothes about 
 on the floor. Barbara had some difficulty in picking her 
 way among the scattered articles. When she came to the 
 bedside, she stood, and held her candle aloft, and let the 
 light fall over the sleeping girl. 
 
 How lovely she was, with her golden hair in confusion 
 on the pillow ! She was lying with her cheek on one rosy 
 palm, and the other hand was out of bed, on the white 
 sheet — and see ! upon the finger, Barbara recognised the 
 turquoise ring. Eve did not venture to wear this by day.
 
 THE OWLS 225 
 
 At niglit, in her room, she had thrust the golden hoop 
 over her finger, and had gone to sleep without removing it. 
 
 Barbara stooped, and kissed her sister's cheek. Eve 
 did not awake, but smiled in slumber ; a dimple formed at 
 the corner of her mouth. 
 
 Then Barbara went to her own room, opened her desk, 
 and the secret drawer, and looked at the bunch of dry 
 roses. They were very yellow now, utterly withered and 
 worthless. The girl took them, stooped her face to them 
 — was it to discover if any scent lingered in the faded 
 leaves ? Then she closed the drawer and desk again, with 
 a sigh. 
 
 Was Barbara insensible to what is beautiful, inappre- 
 ciative of the poetry of life ? Surely not. She had been 
 forced by circumstances to be practical, to devote her whole 
 thought to the duties of the house and estate ; she had 
 said to herself that she had no leisure to think of those 
 things that make life graceful ; but through her strong, 
 direct, and genuine nature ran a 'Leitmotif of sweet, 
 pure melody, kept under and obscured by the jar and 
 jangle of domestic cares and worries, but never lost. 
 There is no nature, however vulgar, that is deficient in its 
 musical phrase, not always quite original and unique, and 
 only the careless listener marks it not. The patient, atten- 
 tive ear suspects its presence first, listens for it, recognises 
 it, and at last appreciates it. 
 
 In poor faithful Barbara now the sweet melody, some- 
 what sad, was rising, becoming articulate, asserting itself 
 above all other sounds and adventitious strains — but, alas 1 
 there was no ear to listen to it. 
 
 Barbara went to her window and opened it. 
 
 • How the owls are hooting to-night ! ' she said. 'They, 
 like myself, are full of unrest. To-whit ! To-whoo ! '
 
 «6 EVE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE DOVES. 
 
 Barbara had no thought of going to bed. She could not 
 have slept had she gone. There was a clock in the tower, 
 a noisy clock that made its pulsations heard through the 
 quadrangle, and this clock struck twelve. By this time 
 Jane had roused the young policeman, and he was collect- 
 ing men to assist him in the capture. Perhaps they were 
 already on their way, — or were they waiting for the arrival 
 of warders from Prince's Town ? Those warders were more 
 dangerous men than the constables, for they were armed 
 with short guns, and prepared to fire should their game 
 attempt to break away. 
 
 She looked across the court at Jasper's window. No 
 light was in it. Was he there, asleep ? or had he taken 
 her advice and gone ? She could not endure the thought 
 of his capture, the self-reproach of having betrayed him 
 was more than she could bear. Barbara, usually so col- 
 lected and cool, was now nervous and hot. 
 
 More light was in the sky than had been when she was 
 on the down. The moon was rising over the roof. She 
 could not see it, but she saw the reflection in Jasper's 
 window, like Hakes of silver. 
 
 What should she do ? Her distress became insupport- 
 able, and she felt she must bo doing something to relieve 
 her mind. The only thing open to her was to make 
 another attempt to recover the prison suit. If she could 
 destroy that, it would be putting out of the way one piece 
 of evidence against him — a poor piece, still a piece. She 
 was not sure that it would avail him anything, but it was 
 worth risking her father's anger on the chance. 
 
 She descended the stairs once more to her father's 
 room. The door was ajar, with a feeble yellow streak
 
 THE DOVhs 227 
 
 issuing from it. She looked in cautiously. Then with 
 the tread of a thief she entered and passed through a maze 
 of quivering bezants of dull light. She stooped, but, as 
 she touched the garments, heard her father's voice, and 
 started upright. He was speaking in his sleep — l De pro- 
 fundis clamavi ad tc ; ' then he tossed and moaned, and 
 put up his hand and held it shaking in the air. ' Si 
 iniquitatcs ' — beseemed troubled in his sleep, unable to 
 catch the sequence of words, and repeated ' Si iniquitatcs 
 obscrvaveris,'' and lay still on his pillow again; whilst 
 Barbara stood watching him, with her finger to her lip, 
 afraid to move, afraid of the consequences, should he wake 
 and see her in her disobedience. 
 
 Then he mumbled, and she heard him pulling at his 
 sheet. • Out of love, out of the deeps of love, I have sinned.' 
 Then suddenly he cried out, ' Si iniquitatcs obscrvaveris, 
 Dominc, quis sustincbit V — he had the sentence complete, 
 or nearly so, and it appeased him. Barbara heard him 
 sigh, she stole to his side, bowed over his ear, and said, 
 1 A pud tc propitiatio est: spcravit anima mca in Domino.'' 
 Whether he heard or not she did not know ; he breathed 
 thenceforth evenly in sleep, and the expression of distress 
 left his face. 
 
 Then Barbara took up the bundle of clothes and softly 
 withdrew. She was risking something for Jasper — the 
 loss of her father's regard. She had recently drawn 
 nearer to his heart than ever before, and he had allowed 
 her to cling round his neck and kiss him. Yet now she 
 deliberately disobeyed him. He would be very angry next 
 morning. 
 
 When she was in the hall she turned over in her mind 
 what was best to be done with the clothes. She could 
 not hide them in the house. Her father would insist 
 on their reproduction. They must be destroyed. She 
 could not burn them : the fire in the kitchen was out. 
 The only way she could think of getting rid of them 
 was to carry them to the Raven Rock and throw them 
 
 o 2
 
 228 EVE 
 
 over the precipice. This, accordingly, she did. She left 
 the house, and in the moonlight walked through the 
 fields and wood to the crag and hurled the bundle over 
 
 the edge. 
 
 Now that this piece of evidence against Jasper was 
 removed, it was expedient that he should escape without 
 further delay— if he were still at Morwcll. 
 
 Barbara had a little money of her own. When die 
 unlocked her desk and looked at the withered flowers, she 
 drew from it her purse, that contained her savings. There 
 were several pounds in it. She drew the knitted silk purse 
 from her pocket, and, standing in the moonlight, counted 
 the sovereigns in her hand. She was standing before the 
 gatehouse near the old trees, hidden by their shadow. 
 She looked up at Jasper's other window— that which com- 
 manded the entrance and was turned from the moon. Was 
 he there? How could she communicate with him, give 
 him the money, and send him off? Then the grating 
 clock in the tower tolled one. Time was passing, danger 
 drew on apace. Something must be done. Barbara 
 picked up some pebbles and threw them at Jasper's win- 
 dow, but her aim was bad or her arm shook, and they 
 scattered without touching the glass. 
 
 All at once she heard feet— a trampling in the lane — 
 and she saw also that lights were burning on the down. 
 The lights were merely gorse blazes, for Morwell Moor 
 was being ' swaled,' and the flames were creeping on ; 
 and the trampling was of young colts and bullocks that 
 fed on the down, which were escaping before the fires ; 
 but to Barbara's nervous fear the lights and the tramp 
 betokened the approach of a body of men to capture Jasper 
 Babb. Then, without any other thought but to save him, 
 she ran up the stair, struck at his door, threw it open, and 
 entered. He started from his bed, on which he had cast 
 himself fully dressed, and from dead weariness had dropped 
 asleep. 
 
 'For God's dear sake,' said Barbara, 'come awayl
 
 THE DOVES 229 
 
 Fliey are after you; tliey are close to the house. Hero 
 is money — take it, and go by the garden.' 
 
 She stood in the door, holding it, trembling in all her 
 limbs, and the door she held rattled. 
 
 He came straight towards her. 
 
 ' Miss Jordan ! ' he exclaimed. ' Oh, Miss Jordan 
 I shall never forgive myself. Go down into the garden — 
 I will follow at once. I will speak to you ; I will tell you 
 all.' 
 
 ' I do not wish you to speak. I insist on your going.' 
 
 He came to her, took her hand from the door, and led 
 her down the stairs. As they came out into the gateway 
 they heard the tramp of many feet, and a rush of young 
 cattle debouched from the lane upon the open space before 
 the gate. 
 
 Barbara was not one to cry, but she shivered and 
 shrank before her eyes told her what a mistake she had 
 made. 
 
 ' Here,' she said, ' I give you my purse. Go ! ' 
 
 ' No,' answered Jasper. ' There is no occasion for me 
 to go. I have acted wrongly, but I did it for the best. 
 You see, there is no occasion for fear. These ponies have 
 been frightened by the flames, and have come through the 
 moor-gate, which has been left open. I must see that 
 they do not enter the court and do mischief.' 
 
 1 Never mind about the cattle, I pray you. Go ! Take 
 this money ; it is mine. I freely give it you. Go ! ' 
 
 ' Why are you so anxious about me if you hate me ? ' 
 asked Jasper. ' Surely it would gratify hate to see me 
 handcuffed and carried off ! ' 
 
 ' No, I do not hate you — that is, not so much as to 
 desire that. I have but one desire concerning you -that 
 we should never see your face again.' 
 
 1 Miss Jordan, I shall not be taken.' 
 
 She flared up with rage, disappointment, shanio. 
 * How dare you ! ' she cried. ' How dare you stand hero 
 and set me at naught, when I have done so much for you
 
 230 EVE 
 
 —when I have even ventured to rouse you in the depth 
 of night! My God! you are enough to madden me. I 
 will not have the shame come on this house of having 
 you taken here. Yes — I recall my words — I do hate 
 you.' 
 
 She wrung her hands ; Jasper caught them and held 
 them between his own. 
 
 ' Miss Barbara, I have deceived you. Be calm.' 
 
 ' I know only too well that you have deceived me — all 
 of us,' she said passionately. ' Let go my hands.' 
 
 • You misunderstand me. I shall not be taken, for I 
 am not pursued. I never took your sister's money. I 
 have never been in jail.' 
 
 She plucked her hands away, 
 
 ' I do not comprehend.' 
 
 ' Nevertheless, what I say is simple. You have sup- 
 posed me to be a thief and an escaped convict. I am 
 neither.' 
 
 Barbara shook her head impatiently. 
 
 1 1 have allowed you to think it for reasons of my own. 
 But now you must be undeceived.' 
 
 The young cattle were galloping about in front, kick- 
 ing, snorting, trying the hedges. Jasper left Barbara for 
 a while that he might drive them into a field where they 
 could do no harm. She remained under the great gate 
 in the shadow, bewildered, hoping that what he now said 
 was true, yet not daring to believe his words. 
 
 Presently he returned to her. He had purposely left 
 her that she might have time to compose herself. When 
 he returned she was calm and stern. 
 
 1 You cannot blind me with your falsehoods,' she said. 
 1 1 know that Mr. Ezeldel Babb was robbed by his 
 own son. I know the prison suit was yours. You con- 
 fessed it when I showed it you on your return to conscious- 
 ness : perhaps before you were aware how seriously you 
 committed yourself. I know that you were in jail at 
 Prince's Town, and that youescaped.'
 
 THE DOVES 231 
 
 'Well, Miss Jordan, what you say is partly true, and 
 partly incorrect.' 
 
 1 Are you not Mr. Babb's son ? ' she asked imperiously. 
 
 He bowed; he was courtly in manner. 
 
 ' Was not his son found guilty of robbing him ? * 
 
 He bowed again. 
 
 ' Was he not imprisoned for so doing ? ' 
 
 ' He was so.' 
 
 1 Did he not escape from prison ? ' 
 
 « He did.' 
 
 ' And yet,' exclaimed Barbara angrily, ' you dare to 
 say with one breath that you are innocent, whilst with 
 the next you confess your guilt ! Like the satyr in the 
 fable, I would drive you from my presence, you blower of 
 true and false ! ' 
 
 He caught her hands again and held her firmly, whilst 
 he drew her out of the shadow of the archway into the 
 moonlight of the court. 
 
 ' Do you give it up ? ' he asked ; and, by the moon, 
 the sickle moon, on his pale face, she saw him smile. By 
 that same moon he saw the frown on her brow. ' Miss 
 Barbara, I am not Ezckiel Babb's only son ! ' 
 
 Her heart stood still ; then the blood rushed through 
 her veins like the tidal bore in the Severn. The whole 
 of the sky seemed full of daylight. She saw all now 
 clearly. Her pride, her anger fell from her as the chains 
 fell from Peter when the angel touched him. 
 
 ' No, Miss Jordan, I am guiltless in this matter — 
 guiltless in everything except in having deceived you.' 
 
 1 God forgive you ! ' she said in a low tone as her eyes 
 fell and tears rushed to them. She did not draw her 
 hands from his. She was too much dazed to know that 
 he held them. ' God forgive you ! — you have made mo 
 suffer very much ! ' 
 
 She did not sec hew his large earnest eyes wero fixed 
 upon her, how he was struggling with his own heart to 
 refrain frcm speaking cut what he felt ; but had she met
 
 -32 t VR 
 
 his eye then in the moonlight, there would have been no 
 need of words, only a quiver of the lips, and they would 
 have been clasped in each other's arms. 
 
 She did not look up ; she was studying, through a 
 veil of tears, some white stones that caught the moon- 
 light. 
 
 ' This is not the time for me to tell you the whole sad 
 tale,' he went on. ' I have acted as I thought my duty 
 pointed out — my duty to a brother.' 
 
 'Yes,' said Barbara, ' you have a brother — that strange 
 boy.' 
 
 A laugh, jeering and shrill, close in their ears. From 
 behind the great yew appeared the shoulders and face of 
 the impish Walter. 
 
 'Oh, the pious, the proper Jasper! Oh, ho, ho! 
 What frail men these saints are who read their Bibles 
 to weak-eyed Lcahs and blooming Rachels, and make 
 love to both ! 
 
 He pointed jecringly at them with his long fingers. 
 
 ' I set the down on fire for a little fun. I drove the 
 ponies along this lane ; and see, I have disturbed a pair 
 of ring-doves as well. I won't hoot any more ; but — 
 eoo ! coo ! coo ! ' He ran away, but stopped every now 
 and then and sent back to them his insulting imitations of 
 the call of wood-pigeons — ' Coo ! coo ! coo I ' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 THE ALARM BELL. 
 
 Next morning Barbara entered the hall after having seen 
 about the duties of the house, ordered dinner, weighed out 
 spices and groats, made the under-scrvant do the work of 
 Jane, who was absent ; she moved about her usual duties 
 with her usual precision and order, but without her usual 
 composure,
 
 THE ALARM BELL 233 
 
 When she came into the hall on her way to her father's 
 room, she found Eve there engaged and hard at work on 
 some engrossing occupation. 
 
 1 Oh, Bab ! do come and see how bright and beautiful I 
 am making this,' said the girl in overflowing spirits and 
 pride. ' I found it in the chest in the garret, and I am 
 furbishing it up.' She held out a sort of necklace or 
 oriental carcanet, composed of chains of gold beads and 
 bezants. ' It was so dull when I found it, and now it 
 shines like pure gold ! ' Her innocent, childish face was 
 illumined with delight. ' I am become really industrious.' 
 
 ' Yes, dear ; hard at work doing nothing.' 
 
 ' I should like to wear this,' she sighed. 
 
 That she had deceived her sister, that she had given 
 her occasion to be anxious about her, had quite passed 
 from her mind, occupied only with glittering toys. 
 
 Barbara hesitated at her father's door. She knew that 
 a painful scene awaited her. He was certain to be angry 
 and reproach her for having disobeyed him. But her 
 heart was relieved. She believed in the innocence of 
 Jasper. Strengthened by this faith, she was bold to con- 
 front her father. 
 
 She tapped at the door and entered. 
 
 She saw at once that he had heard her voice without, 
 .and was expecting her. There was anger in his strange 
 eyes, and a hectic colour in his hollow cheeks. He was 
 partly dressed, and sat on the side of the bed. In his 
 hand he held the stick with which he was wont to rap 
 when he needed assistance. 
 
 ' Where are the clothes that lay on the floor last night ? ' 
 was his salutation, pointing with the stick to the spot 
 whence Barbara had gathered them up. 
 
 1 They are gone, papa ; I have taken them away.' 
 
 She looked him firmly in tho face with her honest eyes, 
 umvincing. He, however, was unable to meet her steadfast 
 gaze. His eyes flickered and fell. His mouth was drawn 
 and set with a hard, cruel expression, such as his face
 
 234 EVE 
 
 ranly wore ; a look which sometimes formed, but was as 
 quickly effaced hy a wave of weakness. Now, however, 
 the expression was fixed. 
 
 4 1 forbade you to touch them. Did you hear me ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, dear papa, I have disobeyed you, and I am sorry 
 to have offended you ; but I cannot say that I repent 
 having taken the clothes away. I found them, and I had 
 a right to remove them.' 
 
 ' Bring them here immediately.' 
 
 • I cannot do so. I have destroyed them.' 
 
 ' You have dared to do that ! ' His eyes began to kin- 
 dle and the colour left his cheeks, which became white as 
 chalk. Barbara saw that he had lost command over him- 
 self. His feeble reason was overwhelmed by passion. 
 
 'Papa,' she said, in her calmest tones, ' I have never 
 disobeyed you before. Only on this one occasion my con- 
 science ' 
 
 ' Conscience ! ' he cried. ' I have a conscience in a 
 thornbush, and yours is asleep in feathers. You have 
 dared to creep in here like a thief in the night and steal 
 from me what I ordered you to leave.' 
 
 He w r as playing with his stick, clutching it in the 
 middle and turning it. With his ether hand he clutched 
 and twisted and almost tore the sheets. Barbara believed 
 that he would strike her, but when he said ' Come here,' 
 she approached him, looking him full in the face without 
 shrinking. 
 
 She knew that he was not responsible for what he did, 
 yet she did not hesitate about obeying his command to 
 approach. She had disobeyed him in the night in a matter 
 concerning another, to save that other ; she wculd not 
 disobey now to save herself. 
 
 His face was ugly with unreasoning fury, and his eyes 
 wilder than she had seen them before. He held up the 
 stick. 
 
 ' Papa,' she said, ' not your right arm. cr yen will re- 
 open the wound.'
 
 THE ALARM BELL 235 
 
 Her calmness impressed him. He changed the stick 
 into his left hand, and, gathering up the sheet into a knot, 
 thrust it into his mouth and hit into it. 
 
 Was the moment come that Barbara had long dreaded ? 
 And was she to be the one on whom his madnass first dis- 
 played itself ? 
 
 ' Papa,' she said, ' I will take any punishment you 
 think fit, but, pray, do not strike me, I cannot bear that — 
 not for my own sake, but for yours.' 
 
 He paid no attention to her remonstrance, but raised 
 the stick, holding it by the ferule. 
 
 Steadily looking into his sparkling eyes, Barbara re- 
 peated the words he had muttered and cried in his sleep, 
 1 De profunclis clamavi ad tc, Domine. Si iniquitates ob- 
 servaveris, quis sustinebit ? ' 
 
 Then, as in a dissolving view on a sheet one scene 
 changes into another, so in his wild eyes the expression of 
 rage shifted to one of fear ; he dropped the stick, and 
 Jasper, who at that moment entered, took it and laid it 
 beyond his reach. 
 
 Mr. Jordan fell back on his pillow and moaned, and 
 put his hands over his brow, and beat his temples with his 
 palms. He would not look at his daughter again, but 
 peevishly turned his face away. 
 
 Now Barbara's strength deserted her ; she felt as if the 
 floor under her feet were rolling and as if the walls of the 
 room were contracting upon her. 
 
 1 1 must have air,' she said. Jasper caught her arm 
 and led her through the hall into the garden. 
 
 Eve, alarmed to see her sister so colourless, ran to sup- 
 port her on the other side, and overwhelmed her with in- 
 considerate attentions. 
 
 ' You must allow her time to recover herself,' said 
 Jasper. ' Miss Jordan has been up a good part of the 
 night. The horses en tbc down were driven on tbe pre- 
 mises by the fire and alarmed her and made her rise. iSho 
 will be well directly. 1
 
 2j6 EVE 
 
 1 1 am already recovered,' said Barbara, with affected 
 cheerfulness. ' The room was close. I should like to be 
 left a little bit in the sun and air, by myself, and to 
 myself.' 
 
 Eve readily ran back to her burnishing of the gold 
 beads and bezants, and Jasper heard Mr. Jordan calling 
 him, so he went to his room. He found the sick gentle- 
 man with clouded brow and closed lips, and eyes that gave 
 him furtive glances but could not look at him steadily. 
 
 ' Jasper Babb,' said Mr. Jordan, ' I do not wish you to 
 leave the house or its immediate precincts to-day. Jano 
 has not returned, Eve is unreliable, and Barbara over- 
 strained.' 
 
 ' Yes, sir, I will do as you wish.' 
 
 ' On no account leave. Send Miss Jordan to me when 
 6he is better.' 
 
 When, about half-an-hour after, Barbara entered the 
 room, she went direct to her father to kiss him, but he re- 
 pelled her. 
 
 ' What did you mean,' he asked, without looking at her, 
 ' by those words of the Psalm '? ' 
 
 ' Oh, papa ! I thought to soothe you. You are fond of 
 the De Profundis — you murmur it in your sleep.' 
 
 ' You used the words significantly. What are the 
 deeds I have done amiss for which you reproach me ? ' 
 
 ' We all need pardon — some for one thing, some for 
 another. And, dearest papa, we all need to say ' Apud te 
 propitiatio est : speravit anima mca in Domino.'' 
 
 1 Propitiatio ! ' repeated Mr. Jordan, and resumed his 
 customary trick of brushing his forehead with his hand as 
 though to sweep cobwebs from it which fell over and 
 clouded his eyes. ' For what ? Say out plainly of what 
 you accuse me. I am prepared for the worst. I cannot 
 endure these covert stabs. You are always watching me. 
 You arc ever casting innuendos. You cut and pierce me 
 worse than the scythe. That gashed my body, but you 
 drive your sharp words into my soul.'
 
 THE ALARM DELL 237 
 
 1 My dear papa, you are mistaken.' 
 
 ' I am not mistaken. Your looks and words have 
 meaning. Speak out.' 
 
 ' I accuse you of nothing, darling papa, but of being 
 perhaps just a little unjust to me.' 
 
 She soon saw that her presence was irritating him, her 
 protestations unavailing to disabuse his mind of the pre- 
 judice that had taken hold of it, and so, with a sigh, she- 
 left him. 
 
 Jane Welsh did not return all day. This was strange. 
 She had promised Barbara to return the first thing in the 
 morning. She was to sleep in Tavistock, where she had a 
 sister, married. 
 
 Barbara went about her work, but with abstracted 
 mind, and without her usual energy. 
 
 She was not quite satisfied. She tried to believe in 
 Jasper's innocence, and yet doubts would rise in her mind 
 in spite of her efforts to keep them under. 
 
 Whom had Eve met on the Raven Bock ? Jasper had 
 denied that he was the person : who, then, could it have 
 been ? The only other conceivable person was Mr. Coyshe, 
 and Barbara at once dismissed that idea. Eve would 
 never make a mystery of meeting Doctor Squash, as she 
 called him. 
 
 At last, as evening drew on, Jane arrived. Barbara 
 met her at the door and remonstrated with her. 
 
 ' Please, miss, I could not help myself. I found Joseph 
 Woodman last night, and he said he must send for the 
 warders to identify the prisoner. Then, miss, he said I 
 Was to wait till he iiad got the warders and some con- 
 stables, and when they was ready to come on I might 
 come too, but not before. I slept at my sister's last 
 night.' 
 
 ' Where are the men now ? ' 
 
 1 They are about the house — some behind hedges, somo 
 in the wood, some on the down.' 
 
 Barbara shuddered.
 
 238 EVE 
 
 ' Please miss, they have guns. And, miss, I were to 
 come on and tell the master that all was ready, and if he 
 would let them know where the man was they'd trap 
 him.' 
 
 4 There is no man here hut Mr. Babb.' 
 
 Jane's face fell. 
 
 ' Lawk, miss ! If Joseph thought us had been making 
 games of ho, I believe he'd never marry me— and after 
 going to a Love Feast with him, too ! 'Twould be serious 
 that, surely.' 
 
 1 Joseph has taken a long time coming.' 
 
 1 Joseph takes things leisurely, miss — 'tis his nature. 
 Us have been courting time out o' mind ; and, please, 
 miss, if the man were here, then the master was to give 
 the signal by pulling the alarm-bell. Then the police and 
 warders would close in on the house and take him.' 
 
 Barbara was as pale now as when nearly fainting in 
 the morning. This was not the old Barbara with halo 
 checks, hearty eyes, and ripe lips, tall and firm, and 
 decided in all her movements. No I This was not at all 
 the old Barbara. 
 
 ' Well, Miss Jordan, what is troubling you ? ' asked 
 Jasper. ' The house is surrounded. Men are stationed 
 about it. No one can leave it without being challenged.' 
 
 1 Yes,' said Barbara quickly. ' By the Abbot's Well 
 there runs a path down between laurels, then over a stile 
 into the wood. It is still possible— will you go ? ' 
 
 ' You do not trust me ? ' 
 
 ' I wish to — but ' 
 
 ' Will you do one thing more for me V ' 
 
 She looked timidly at him. 
 
 •Peal the alarm-bell.'
 
 CONFESSIONS 2^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 CONFESSIONS. 
 
 As the bell clanged Mr. Jordan came out of his door. He 
 had been ordered to remain quiet and take no exercise ; 
 but now, leaning on his stick and holding the door jamb, 
 he came forth. 
 
 ' What is this ? ' he asked, and Jasper put his hand to 
 the rope to arrest the upward cast. * Why are you ringing, 
 Barbara ? Who told you to do so ? ' 
 
 ' I bade her ring,' said Jasper, ' to call these,' he 
 pointed to the door. 
 
 Several constables were visible ; foremost came Joseph 
 and a prison warder. 
 
 ' Take him ! ' cried Mr. Jordan : • arrest the fellow. 
 Here he is — he is unarmed.' 
 
 ' What ! Mr. Jasper ! ' asked Joseph. Among the ser- 
 vants and labourers the young steward was oidy known as 
 Mr. Jasper. ' Why, sir, this is — this is — Mr. Jasper ! ' 
 
 ' This is the man,' said Ignatius Jordan, clinging to 
 the door-jamb and pointing excitedly with his stick, — 
 ' this is the man who robbed his own father of money that 
 was mine. This is the man who was locked up in jail and 
 broke out, and, by the mercy and justice of Heaven, was 
 cast at my door.' 
 
 'I beg your pardon, sir,' said Joseph, 'I don't under- 
 stand. This is your steward, Mr. Jasper.' 
 
 ' Take him, handcuff him before my eyes. This is the 
 fellow you have been in search of; I deliver him up.' 
 
 'But, sir,' said the warder, 'you are wrong. This is 
 not our escaped convict.' 
 
 ' He is, I tell you I know he is.' 
 
 ' I am sorry to differ from you, sir, but this is not he. 
 I know which is which. Why, this chap'u hair have never
 
 240 EVE 
 
 been cut. If he'd been with us he'd have a head like a 
 mole's back.' 
 
 ' Not he ! ' cried Mr. Jordan frantically. ' I say to you 
 this is Jasper Babb.' 
 
 1 Well, sir,' said the warder, ' sorry to differ, sir, but 
 our man ain't Jasper at all — he's Martin.' 
 
 Then Joseph turned his light blue eyes round in quest 
 of Jane. 'I'll roast her! I'll eat her,' he muttered, 'at 
 the next Love Feast.' 
 
 The men went away much disappointed, grumbling, 
 swearing, ill-appeased by a glass of cider each ; Jane 
 sulked in the kitchen, and said to Barbara, ' This day 
 month, please, miss.' 
 
 Mr. Jordan, confounded, disappointed, crept back to 
 his room and cast himself on his bed. 
 
 The only person in the house who could have helped 
 them out of their disappointment was Eve, who knew 
 something of the story of Martin, and knew, moreover, or 
 strongly suspected, that he was not very far off. But no 
 one thought of consulting Eve. 
 
 When all the party of constables was gone, Barbara 
 stood in the garden, and Jasper came to her. 
 
 ' You will tell me all now ? ' she said, looking at him 
 with eyes full of thankfulness and trust. 
 
 ' Yes, Miss Jordan, everything. It is due to you. May 
 I sit here by you on the garden seat ? ' 
 
 She seated herself, with a smile, and made room for 
 him, drawing her skirts to her. 
 
 The ten-week stocks, purple and white, in a bed under 
 the window filled the air with perfume ; but a sweeter 
 perfume than ten-week stocks, to Barbara, charged the 
 atmosphere — the perfume of perfect confidence. Was 
 Barbara plain ? Who could think that must have no love 
 for beauty of expression. She had none of her sister's 
 loveliness, but then Eve had none of hers. Each had a 
 charm of her own, — Eve the charm of exquisite physical 
 perfection, Barbara that of intelligence and sweet faith
 
 CONFESSIONS 241 
 
 end complete self-devotion streaming out of eye and 
 mouth— indeed, out of every feature. Which is lovelier — 
 the lantern, or the light within ? There was little of soul 
 and character in frivolous Eve. 
 
 When Jasper seated himself beside Miss Jordan neither 
 spoke for full ten minutes. She folded her hands on her 
 lap. Perhaps their souls were, like the ten-week stocks, 
 exhaling sweetness. 
 
 ' Dear Miss Jordan,' said Jasper, ' how pleasantly the 
 thrushes are singing ! ' 
 
 ' Yes,' she replied, ' but I want to hear your story— 1 
 can always listen to the thrushes.' 
 
 He was silent after this for several minutes. She did 
 not further press him. She knew he would tell her all 
 when he had rallied his courage to do so. They heard 
 Eve upstairs in her room lightly singing a favourite air 
 from ' Don Giovanni.' 
 
 ' It is due to you,' said Jasper at last. ' I will hide 
 nothing from you, and I know your kind heart will bear 
 with me if I am somewhat long.' 
 
 She looked round, smiled, just raised her fingers on 
 her lap and let them fall again. 
 
 When Jasper saw that smile he thought he had never 
 seen a sweeter sight. And yet people said that Barbara 
 was plain ! 
 
 4 Miss Jordan, as you have heard, my brother Martin 
 took the money. Poor Martin ! Poor, dear Martin ! His 
 is a broken life, and it was so full of promise ! ' 
 
 ' Did you love Martin very dearly ? ' 
 
 * I do love him dearly. I have pitied him so deeply. 
 He has had a hard childhood. I will tell you all, and 
 your good kind soul will pity, not condemn him. You 
 have no conception what a bright handsome lad he was. 
 I love to think of him as he was— guileless, brimming 
 with spirits. Unfortunately for us, our father had the 
 idea that ho could mould his children's character into 
 whatever shape he desired, and he had resolved to make 
 
 R
 
 242 EVE 
 
 of Martin a Baptist minister, so he began to write on his 
 tender heart the hard tenets of Calvinism, with an iron 
 pen dipped in gall. When my brother and I played 
 together we were happy — happy as butterflies in the sun. 
 When we heard our father's voice or saw him, we ran 
 away and hid behind bushes. He interfered with our pur- 
 suits, he sneered at our musical tastes, he tried to stop our 
 practising on the violin. We were overburdened with 
 religion, had texts rammed into us as they ram groats 
 down the throats of Strasburg geese. Our livers became 
 diseased like these same geese — our moral livers. Poor 
 Martin could least endure this education : it drove him 
 desperate. He did what was wrong through sheer provo- 
 cation. By nature he is good. He has a high spirit, and 
 that led him into revolt.' 
 
 'I have seen your brother Martin,' said Barbara. 
 4 "When you were brought insensible to this house he was 
 with you.' 
 
 ' Vv'hat did you think of him ? ' aslced Jasper, with 
 pride in his tone. 
 
 ' I did not see his face, he never removed his hat.' 
 
 4 Has he not a pleasant voice ! and he is so grand and 
 generous in his demeanour ! ' 
 
 Barbara said nothing. Jasper waited, expecting some 
 word of praise. 
 
 ' Tell me candidly what you thought of him,' said 
 Jasper. 
 
 4 1 do not like to do so. I did form an opinion of him, 
 but — it was not favourable.' 
 
 ' You saw him for too short a time to be able to judge,' 
 said the young man. 'It never does to condemn a man 
 off-hand without knowing his circumstances. Do you 
 know, Miss Jordan, that saving of St. Paul about pre- 
 mature judgments? He bids us not judge men, for the 
 Great Day will rgveal the secrets of all hearts, and then — 
 what is his conclusion? "All men will be covered with, 
 confusion and be condemned of men and angels"? Not
 
 CONFESSIONS 243 
 
 so — "Then shall every man hava praise of the Lord." 
 Their motives will show better than their deeds.' 
 
 ' How sweetly the thrushes are singing ! ' said Barbara 
 now ; then — ' So also Eve may be misunderstood.' 
 
 ' Oh, Miss Jordan ! when I consider what Martin might 
 have become in better hands, with more gentle and sym- 
 pathetic treatment, it makes my heart bleed. I assure 
 you my boyhood was spent in battling with the fatal 
 influences that surrounded him. At last matters came to 
 a head. Our father wanted to send Martin away to be 
 trained for a preacher, and Martin took the journey money 
 provided him, and joined a company of players. He had 
 a good voice, and had been fairly taught to sing. Whether 
 he had any dramatic talent I can hardly say. After an 
 absence of a twelvemonth or more he returned. He was 
 out of his place, and professed penitence. I dare say he 
 really was sorry. He remained a while at home, but could 
 not get on with our father, who was determined to have 
 his way with Martin, and Martin was equally resolved not 
 to become a Dissenting minister. To me it was amazing 
 that my father should persevere, because it was obvious 
 that Martin had no vocation for the pastorate; but my 
 lather is a determined man. Having made up his mind 
 that Martin was to be a preacher, he would not be moved 
 from it. In our village a couple of young men resolved to 
 go to America. They were friends of Martin, and per- 
 suaded him to join them. He asked my father to give 
 him a fit-out and let him go. But no — the old gentleman 
 was not to be turned from his purpose. Then a tempta- 
 tion came in poor Martin's way, and he yielded to it in a 
 thoughtless moment, or, perhaps, when greatly excited by 
 an altercation with his father. He took the money and 
 ran away.' 
 
 ' lie did not go to America ? '• 
 
 'No, Mi Jordan. He rejoined the same dramatic 
 
 company with which he had been connected before. That 
 
 was how he was caught.' 
 
 n 2
 
 244 EVE 
 
 1 And the money V 
 
 4 Some of it was recovered, but what he had done with 
 most of it no one knows ; the poor thriftless lad least of 
 sill. I dare say he gave away pounds right and left to all 
 who made out a case of need to him.' 
 
 Then these two, sitting in the garden perfumed with 
 stocks, heard Eve calling Barbara. 
 
 1 It is nothing,' said Barbara ; ' Eve is tired of polishing 
 her spangles, and so wants me. I cannot go to her now : 
 I must hear the end of your story.' 
 
 'I was on my way to this place,' Jasper continued, 
 ■ when I had to pass through Prince's Town. I found my 
 other brother there, Walter, who is also devoted to our 
 poor Martin ; Walter had found means of communicating 
 with his brother, and had contrived plans of escape. He 
 had a horse in readiness, and one day, when the prisoners 
 were cutting turf on the moor, his comrades built a turf- 
 stack round Martin, and tlrs warders did not discover that 
 he was missing till he had made off. Walter persuaded 
 me to remain a day or two in the place to assist in carrying 
 out the escape, which was successfully executed. We got 
 away off Dartmoor, avoided Tavistock, and lost ourselves 
 on these downs, but were making for the Tamar, that we 
 might cross into Cornwall by bridge or ferry, or by swim- 
 ming our horses ; and then we thought to reach Polperro 
 and send Martin out of the kingdom in any ship that 
 sailed.' 
 
 ' Why did you not tell mo this at once, when you came 
 to our house '? ' asked Barbara, with a little of her old 
 sharpness. 
 
 ' Because I did not know you then, Miss Jordan ; I 
 could not be sure that you might be trusted.' 
 
 She shook her head. ' Oh, Mr. Jasper ! I am not 
 trustworthy. I did betray what I believed to be your 
 Secret.' 
 
 ' Your very trustiness made you a traitor,' he answered 
 courteously. ' Your first duty was to your sister.'
 
 CONFESSIONS 245 
 
 ' Wliy did you allow me to suppose that you were the 
 criminal ? ' 
 
 1 You had found the prison clothes, and at first I sought 
 to screen my brother. I did not know where Martin was ; 
 I wished to give him ample time for escape by diverting 
 suspicion to myself.' 
 
 ' But afterwards ? You ought, later, to have undeceived 
 me,' she said, with a shake in her voice, and a little accent 
 of reproach. 
 
 ' I shrank from doing that. I thought when you visited 
 Buckfastleigh you would have found out the whole story ; 
 but my father was reticent, and you came away without 
 having learned the truth. Perhaps it was pride, perhaps a 
 lingering uneasiness about Martin, perhaps I felt that I 
 could not tell of my dear brother's fall and disgrace. You 
 were cold, and kept me at a distance ' 
 
 Then, greatly agitated, Barbara started up. 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Jasper ! ' she said with quivering voice, ' what 
 cruel words I have spoken to you — to you so generous, so 
 true, so self-sacrificing ! You never can forgive me ; and 
 yet from the depth of my heart I desire your pardon. Oh, 
 Jasper ! Mr.'— a sob broke the thread of her words — ' Mr. 
 Jasper, when you were ill and unconscious, I studied your 
 face hour after hour, trying to read the evil story of your 
 life there, and all I read was pure, and noble, and true. 
 How can I make you amends for the wrong I have done 
 you ! ' 
 
 As she stood, humbled, with heaving bosom and throat 
 choking — Eve came with skips and laugh along the gravel 
 walk. ' I have found you ! ' she exclaimed, and clapped 
 her hands. 
 
 ' And I — and I ' gasped Barbara — * I have found 
 
 how I may reward the best of men. There ! there ! ' she 
 said, clasping Eve's hand and drawing her towards Jasper. 
 • Take her ! I have stood between you too long ; but, on 
 my honour, only because I thought you unworthy of her.' 
 
 She put Eve's hand in that of Jasper, then before
 
 246 EVE 
 
 cither bad recovered from the surprise occasioned by her 
 
 words and action, she walked back into the house, gravely, 
 with erect head, dignified as ever. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE PIPE OF PEACE. 
 
 Barbara went to her room. She ran up the stairs : her 
 stateliness was gone when she was out of sight. She bolted 
 her door, threw herself on her knees heside her bed, and 
 buried her face in the counterpane. 
 
 'I am so happy!' she said; but her happiness can 
 hardly have been complete, for the bed vibrated under her 
 weight— shook so much that it shook down a bunch of 
 crimson carnations she had stuck under a sacred picture at 
 the head of the bed, and the red flowers fell about her dark 
 hair, and strewed themselves on the counterpane round her 
 head. She did not see them. She did not feel them. 
 
 If she had been really and thoroughly happy when at 
 last she rose from her knees, her cheeks would not have 
 shone with tears, nor would her handkerchief have been so 
 wet that she hung it out of her window to dry it, and took 
 another from her drawer. 
 
 Then she went to her glass and brushed her hair, which 
 was somewhat ruffled, and she dipped her face in the 
 basin. 
 
 After that she was more herself. She unlocked her 
 desk and from it took a small box tied round with red 
 ribbon. Within this box was a shapreen case, and in this 
 case a handsome rosewood pipe, mounted in silver. 
 
 This pipe had belonged to her uncle, and it was one of 
 the little items that had come to her. Indeed, in the 
 division of family relics, she had chosen this. Her cousins 
 bad teased her, and asked whether it was intended for her
 
 THE PIPE OF PEACE 247 
 
 future husband. She had made no other reply than that 
 she fancied it, and so she had kept it. When she selected 
 it, she had thought of Jasper. He smoked occasionally. 
 Possibly, she thought she might some day give it him, 
 when he bad proved himself to be truly repentant. 
 
 Now he was clear from all guilt, she must make him 
 the present — a token of complete reconciliation. She 
 dusted the pretty bowl with her clean pocket-handkerchief, 
 and looked for the lion and head to make sure that the 
 mounting was real silver. Then she took another look at 
 herself in the glass, and came downstairs, carrying the 
 calumet of peace enclosed in its case. 
 
 She found Jasper sitting with Eve on the bench where 
 she had left them. They at once made way for her. He 
 rose, and refused to sit till she had taken his place. 
 
 ' Mr. Jasper,' she said, and she had regained entire self- 
 command, ' this is a proud and happy day for all of us — 
 for you, for Eve, and for me. I have been revolving in my 
 mind how to mark it and what memorial of it to give to 
 you as a pledge of peace established, misunderstandings 
 done away. I have been turning over my desk as well as 
 my mind, and have found Avhat is suitable. My uncle won 
 this at a shooting-match. He was a first-rate shot.' 
 
 ' And the prize,' said Jasper, ' has fallen into hands 
 that make very bad shots.' 
 
 1 What do you mean ? Oh ! ' Barbara laughed and 
 coloured. ' You led me into that mistake about yourself.' 
 
 1 This is the bad shot I mean,' said Jasper : • you have 
 brought Miss Eve here to me, and neither does Eve want 
 me, nor do I her.' 
 
 Barbara opened her eyes very wide. ' Have you 
 quarrelled ? ' she inquired, turning to see the faces of 
 Jasper and her sister. Both were smiling with a malicious 
 humour. 
 
 1 Not at all. We are excellent friends,* 
 
 1 You do not love Eve ? ' 
 
 • I like Eve, I love someone elso.'
 
 248 EVE 
 
 The colour rushed into Barbara's face, and then as sud- 
 denly deserted it. What did he mean ? A sensation of 
 vast happiness overspread her, and then ebbed away. 
 Perhaps he loved someone at Buckfastleigh. She, plain, 
 downright Barbara — what was she for such a man as Jas- 
 per had approved himself? She quickly recovered herself, 
 and said, ' We were talking about the pipe.' 
 
 ' Quite so,' answered Jasper. ' Let us return to the 
 pipe. You give it me — your uncle's prize pipe ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, heartily. I have kept it in my desk unused, as it 
 has been preserved since my uncle's death ; but you must 
 use it ; and I hope the tobacco will taste nice through it.' 
 
 1 Miss Jordan,' said Jasper, ' you have shown me such 
 high honour, that I feel bound to honour the gift in a 
 special manner. I can only worthily do so by promising 
 to smoke out of no other pipe so long as this remains en- 
 tire, and should an accident befall it, to smoke out of no 
 other not replaced by your kind self.' 
 
 Eve clapped her hands. 
 
 1 A rash promise,' said Barbara. ' You are at liberty 
 to recall it. If I were to die, and the pipe were broken, 
 you would be bound to abjure smoking.' 
 
 ' If you were to die, dear Miss Jordan, I should bury 
 the pipe in your grave, and something far more precious 
 than that.' 
 
 ' What ? ' 
 
 ' Can you ask ? ' He looked her in the eyes, and again 
 her colour came, deep as the carnations that had strewed 
 her head. 
 
 ' There, there ! ' he said, ' we will not talk of graves, 
 and broken pipes, and buried hearts ; we will get the pipe 
 to work at once, if the ladies do not object.' 
 
 ' I will run for the tinder-box,' said Eve eagerly. 
 
 ' I have my amadou and steel with me, and tobacco,' 
 Jasper observed; 'and mind, Miss Barbara is to consecrate 
 the pipe for ever by drawing out of it the first whiff of 
 smoke.'
 
 THE PIPE OF PEACE 249 
 
 Barbara laughed. She would do that. Her heart was 
 wonderfully light, and clear of clouds as that sweet still 
 evening sky. 
 
 The pipe was loaded ; Eve ran off to the kitchen to 
 fetch a stick out of the fire with glowing end, because, she 
 said, ' she did not like the smell of the burning amadou.' 
 
 Jasper handed the pipe to Barbara, who, with an effort 
 to be demure, took it. 
 
 1 Are you ready ? ' asked Jasper, who was whirling the 
 stick, making a fiery ring in the air. 
 
 Barbara had put the pipe between her lips, precisely in 
 the middle of her mouth. 
 
 1 No, that will not do,' said the young man ; ' put tlie 
 pipe in the side of your mouth. Where it is now I cannot 
 light it without burning the tip of your nose.' 
 
 Barbara put her little finger into the bowl to assure 
 herself that it was full. Eve was on her knees at her sis- 
 ter's feet, her elbows on her lap, looking up amused and 
 delighted. Barbara kept her neck and back erect, and her 
 chin high in the air. A smile was on her face, but no tre- 
 mor in her lip. Eve burst into a fit of laughter. ' Oh, 
 Bab, you look so unspeakably droll ! ' But Barbara did 
 not laugh and let go the pipe. Her hands were down on 
 the bench, one on each side of her. She might have been 
 sitting in a dentist's chair to have a tooth drawn. She 
 was a little afraid of the consequences ; nevertheless, she 
 had undertaken to smoke, and smoke she would— one whiff, 
 no more. 
 
 ' Ready ? ' asked Jasper. 
 
 She could not answer, because her lips grasped the pipe 
 with all the muscular force of which they were capable. 
 She replied by gravely and slowly bowing her head. 
 
 1 This is our calumet of peace, is it not, Miss Jordan ? 
 A lasting peace never to be broken — never ? ' 
 
 She replied again only by a serious bow, head and pipe 
 going down and coming up again. 
 
 • Ready ? ' Jasper brought the red-hot coal in contact
 
 >5° 
 
 EVE 
 
 with tlio tobacco in the bowl. The glow kindled Barbara's 
 
 face. Sho drew a long, a conscientiously long, breath. 
 Then her brows went up in query. 
 
 ' Is it alight ? ' asked Eve, interpreting the question. 
 
 1 Wait a moment Yes,' answered Jasper. 
 
 Then a long spiral of white smoke, like a jet of steam 
 from a kettle that is boiling, issued from Barbara's lips, 
 and rose in a perfect white ring. Hei eyes followed tho 
 ring. 
 
 At that moment— bang ! and again — bang ! — the dis- 
 charge of firearms. 
 
 The pipe fell into her lap. 
 
 « What is that ? ' asked Eve, springing to her feet. 
 They all hurried out of the garden, and stood in front of 
 the house, looking up and down the lane. 
 
 1 Stay here and I will see,' said Jasper. * There may 
 be poachers near.' 
 
 ' In pity do not leave us, or I shall die of fear,' cried 
 Eve. 
 
 The darkness had deepened. A few stars were visible. 
 Voices were audible, and the tread of men in the lane. 
 Then human figures were visible. It was too dark at first 
 to distinguish who they were, and the suspense was great. 
 
 As, however, they drew nearer, Jasper and the girls 
 saw that tho party consisted of Joseph, the warder, and a 
 couple of constables, leading a prisoner. 
 
 ' We have got him,' said Joseph Woodman, ' the right 
 man at last.' 
 
 ' Whom have you got ? ' asked Barbara. 
 
 ■ Whom ! — why, the escaped felon, Martin Babb.' 
 A cry. Eve had fainted.
 
 TAKEN: 251 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 TAKEN ! 
 
 We must go back in time, something like an hour and a 
 half or two hours, and follow the police and warders afiei 
 they left Morwell, to understand how it happened that 
 Martin fell into their hands. They had retired sulky and 
 grumbling. They had been brought a long way, the twc 
 warders a very long way, for nothing. When they reached 
 the down, one of the warders observed that he was darned 
 if he had not turned his ankle on the rough stones of the 
 lane. The other said he reckoned they had been shabbily 
 treated, and it was not his ankle but his stomach had been 
 turned by a glass of cider sent down into emptiness. Some 
 cold beef and bread was what ho wanted. Whereat he was 
 snapped at by the other, who advised him to kill one of the 
 bullocks on the moor and make his meal on that. 
 
 ' Hearken,' said Joseph ; ' brothers, an idea has struck 
 nie. We have not captured the man, and so we shan't 
 have the reward.' 
 
 ' Has it taken you half an hour to discover that ? ' 
 
 1 Yes,' answered Joseph simply. ' Thinking and 
 digesting are much the same. I ain't a caterpillar that 
 can eat and digest at once.' 
 
 ' I wish I'd had another glass of cider,' said one of tho 
 constables, ' but these folk seemed in a mighty haste to 
 get rid of us.' 
 
 ' There is the " Hare and Hounds " at Goatadon,' said 
 Joseph. 
 
 1 That is a long bit out of tho road,' remonstrated tho 
 constable. 
 
 1 What is time to us police ! ' answered Joseph. ' It u 
 made to be killed, like a flea.' 
 
 • And hops away as fast,' said another.
 
 252 EVE 
 
 4 Let us get back to Tavistock,' said a warder. 
 
 * Ob, if you wish it,' answered Joseph ; ' only it do 
 seem a cruel pity.' 
 
 ' What is a pity ? ' 
 
 4 Why, that you should ha' come so far and not seen 
 the greatest wonder of the world.' 
 
 1 What may that be ? ' 
 
 4 The fat woman,' answered Joseph Woodman. ' The 
 landlady of the " Hare and Hounds." You might as well 
 go to Egypt and not see the pyramids, or to Rome and not 
 see the Pope, or to London and not see the Tower.' 
 
 * I don't make any account of fat women,' said the 
 warder, who had turned his ankle. 
 
 4 But this,' argued Joseph, 4 is a regular marvel. She's 
 the fattest woman out of a caravan — I believe the fattest 
 in England ; I dare say the very fattest in the known 
 world. What there be in the stars I can't say.' 
 
 4 Now,' said the warder, who had turned his stomach, 
 4 what do you call fat ? ' He was hi a captious mood. 
 
 4 What do I call fat ? ' repeated Joseph ; 4 why, that 
 woman. Brother, if you and I were to stretch our arms 
 at the farthest, taking hold of each other with one 
 hand, we couldn't compass her and take hold with the 
 other.' 
 
 ' I don't believe it,' said the warder emphatically. 
 
 4 'Tain't possible a mortal could be so big,' said the 
 other warder. 
 
 4 1 swear it,' said Joseph with great earnestness. 
 
 4 There is never a woman in the world,' said the warder 
 with the bad ankle, 4 whose waist I couldn't encircle, and 
 I've tried lots.' 
 
 4 But I tell you this woman is out of the common 
 altogether.' 
 
 4 Have you ever tried ? ' sneered the warder with the 
 bad stomach. 
 
 1 No, but I've measured her with my eye.' 
 
 4 The eye is easy deceived as to distances and dimen-
 
 TAKEN! 253 
 
 sions. Why, Lord bless you ! I've seen in a fog a sheep 
 on the moor look as big as a hippopotamus.' 
 
 ' But the landlady is not on the moor nor in a fog,' 
 persisted Joseph. 'I bet you half-a-guinea, laid out in 
 drink, that 'tis as I say.' 
 
 ' Done ! ' said both warders. ' Done ! ' said the con- 
 stables, and turning to their right, they went off to the 
 4 Hare and Hounds,' two miles out of their way, to see the 
 fat woman and test her dimensions. 
 
 Now this change in the destination of the party led to 
 the capture of Martin, and to the wounding of the warder 
 who complained of his stomach. 
 
 The party reached the little tavern — a poor country inn 
 built where roads crossed — a wretched house, tarred over 
 its stone face as protection against the driving rains. They 
 entered, and the hostess cheerfully consented to having 
 her girth tested. She was accustomed to it. Her fatness 
 was part of her stock-in-trade : it drew customers to the 
 ' Hare and Hounds ' who otherwise would have gone on to 
 Beer Alston, where was a pretty and pert maid. 
 
 Whilst the officers were refreshing themselves, and one 
 warder had removed his boot to examine his ankle, the 
 door of the room where they sat was opened and Martin 
 came in, followed by Watt. His eyes were dazzled, as the 
 room was strongly lighted, and he did not at first observe 
 who were eating and drinking there. It was in this lonely 
 inn that he and Walter were staying and believed them- 
 selves quite safe. A few miners were the only persons 
 they met there. 
 
 As Martin stood in the doorway looking at tho party, 
 whilst his eyes accustomed themselves to the light, one of 
 the warders started up. ' That is he ! Take him ! Our 
 man ! ' 
 
 Instantly all sprang to their feet except Joseph, who 
 was leisurely in all his movements, and the warder with 
 bare foot, without considering fully what he did, threw his 
 boot at Martin's hearl.
 
 254 EVE 
 
 Martin turned at once and ran, and the men dashed 
 out of the inn after him, hoth warders catching up their 
 guns, and he who was bootless running, forgetful of his 
 ankle, with hare foot- 
 
 The night wac light enough for Martin to be seen, 
 with the hoy running beside him, across the moor. The 
 fires were still flickering and glowing ; the gorse had been 
 burnt and so no bushes could be utilised as a screen. Ilia 
 only chance of escape was to reach the woods, and he ran 
 for Morwell. 
 
 But Martin, knowing that there were fire-arms among 
 bis pursuers, dared not run in a direct line ; he swerved 
 from side to side, and dodged, to make it difficult for them 
 to take aim. This gave great facilities to the warder who 
 had both boots on, and who was a wiry, long-legged 
 fellow, to gain on Martin. 
 
 « Halt ! ' shouted be, ' halt, or I fire ! ' 
 
 Then Martin turned abruptly and discharged a pistol 
 at him. The man staggered, but before he fell be fired at 
 Martin, but missed. 
 
 Almost immediately Martin saw some black figures in 
 front of him, and stood, hesitating what to do. The figures 
 were those of boys who were spreading the fires among the 
 furze bushes, but he thought that his course was inter- 
 cepted by his pursuers. Before be had decided where to 
 run he was surrounded and disarmed. 
 
 The warder was so seriously hurt that he was at once 
 placed on a gate and carried on the shoulders of four of 
 the constables to Beer Alston, to be examined by Mr. 
 Coysbe and the ball extracted. This left only three to 
 guard the prisoner, one of whom was the warder who bad 
 sprained his ankle, and had been running with that foot 
 bare, and who was now not in a condition to go much 
 farther. 
 
 ' There is nothing for it.' sail Joseph, who was highly 
 elated, ' but for us to go on to Morwell. We must lock 
 the chap up there. In that old bouse there are scores of
 
 TAKEN! 255 
 
 strong places where the monks were imprisoned. To- 
 morrow we can take him to Tavistock.' Joseph did not 
 say that Jane Welsh was at Morwell ; this consideration, 
 doubtless, had something to do with determining the 
 arrangement. On reaching Morwell, which they did 
 almost at once, for Martin had been captured on the 
 down near the entrance to the lane, the first inquiry 
 was for a safe place where the prisoner might bo 
 bestowed. 
 
 Jane, hearing the noise, and, above all, the loved voice 
 of Joseph, ran out. 
 
 ' Jane,' said the policeman, ' where can we lock the 
 rascal up for the night ? ' 
 
 She considered for a moment, and then suggested the 
 corn-chamber. That was over the cellar, the walls lined 
 with slate, and the floor also of slate. It had a stout oak 
 door studded with nails, and access was had to it from the 
 quadrangle, up a flight of stone steps. There was no window 
 to it. ' I'll go ask Miss Barbara for the key,' she said. 
 'There is nothing in it now but some old onions. But' 
 — she paused — ' if he be locked up there all night, he'll 
 smell awful of onions in the morning.' 
 
 Beassured that this was of no importance, Jane went 
 to her mistress for the key. Barbara came out and listened 
 to the arrangement, to which she gave her consent, coldly. 
 The warder could now only limp. She was shocked to 
 hear of the other having been shot. 
 
 A lack of hospitality had been shown when the con- 
 stables and warders came first, through inadvertence, not 
 intentionally. Now that they desired to remain the night 
 at Morwell and guard there the prisoner, Barbara gave 
 orders that they should bo made comfortable in the hall. 
 One would have to keep guard outside the door where 
 Martin was confined, the other two would spend the night 
 i;i the hall, the window of which commanded the court 
 and the stairs that led to the corn-chamber. ' I won't 
 have the men in the kitchen,' said Barbara, ' or the maids
 
 256 EVE 
 
 will lose their heads and nothing will he done.' Besides, 
 the kitchen was out of the way of the corn-chamber. 
 
 1 We shall want the key of the corn-store,' said Joseph, 
 ' if wo may have it, miss.' 
 
 ' Why not stow the fellow in the cellar ? ' asked a 
 constable. 
 
 ' For two reasons,' answered Joseph. ' First, because 
 he would drink the cider ; and second, because — no offence 
 meant, miss — we hope that the maids '11 be going to and 
 fro to the cellar with the pitcher pretty often.' 
 
 Joseph was courting the maid of the house, and there- 
 fore thought it well to hint to Barbara what was expected 
 of the house to show that it was free and open. 
 
 The corn-room was unlocked, a light obtained, and it 
 was thoroughly explored. It was floored with large slabs 
 of slate, and the walls were lined six feet high with slate, 
 as a protection against rats and mice. Joseph progged 
 the walls above that. All sound, not a window. He 
 examined the door : it was of two-inch oak plank, and the 
 hinges of stout iron. In the corner of the room was a 
 heap of onions that had not been used the preceding 
 winter. A bundle of straw was procured and thrown 
 down. 
 
 ' Lie there, you dog, you murderous dog ! ' said ono 
 of the men, casting Martin from him. ' Move at your 
 peril ! ' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said the lame warder, • I only wish you would 
 make another attempt to escape that I might give you a 
 leaden breakfast.' He limped badly. In running he had 
 cut his bare foot and it bled, and he had trodden on tho 
 prickles of the gorse, which had made it very painful. 
 
 ' There's a heap of onions for your pillow,' said Joseph. 
 * Folks say they are mighty helpful to sleep — ' this was 
 Bpoken satirically; then with a moral air — 'But, sure 
 enough, there's no sleeping, even on an onion pillow, 
 without a good conscience.' 
 
 As the men were to spend (.he night without sleep—
 
 TAKhA / 257 
 
 one out of doors, to be relieved guard by the other, the 
 lame warder alone excused the duty, as he was unable to 
 walk — Barbara ordered a fire to be lighted in the great 
 hall. The nights were not cold, but damp ; the sky was 
 clear, and the dew fell heavily. It would, moreover, be 
 cheerful for the men to sit over a wood fire through the 
 long night, and take naps by it if they so liked. Supper 
 was produced and laid on the oak table by Jane, who ogled 
 Joseph every time she entered and left the hall 
 
 She placed a jug on the table. Joseph went after 
 her. 
 
 1 You are a dear maid,' he said, ' but one jug don't go 
 far. You must mind the character of the house and 
 maintain it. I see cold mutton. It is good, but chops 
 are better. This ain't an inn. It's a gentleman's house. 
 I see cheese. Ain't there anywhere a tart and cream? 
 Mr. Jordan is not a farmer : he's a squire. I'd not have 
 it said of me I was courting a young person in an inferior 
 situation.' 
 
 The fire was made up with a faggot. It blazed mer- 
 rily. Joseph sat before it with his legs outspread, smiling 
 at the flames ; he had his hands on his knees. After 
 having run hard and got hot he felt chilled, and the fire 
 was grateful. Moreover, his hint had been taken. Two 
 jugs stood on the table, and hot chops and potatoes had 
 been served. He had eaten well, he had drunk well. All 
 at once he laughed. 
 
 ' "What is the joke, Joe ? ' 
 
 ' I've an idea, brother. If t'other warder dies I shall 
 not have to pay the half-guinea because I lost my bet. 
 He was so confounded long in the arm. That will be 
 prime ! And — we shall share the reward without him ! 
 Beautiful ! ' 
 
 1 Umph ! Has it taken you all this time to find that 
 out? I saw it the moment the shot struck. That's why 
 I ran on with a bad loot.'
 
 25S EVE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 GONE ! 
 
 Neither Jasper, Barbara, nor Eve appeared. Mr. Jordan 
 was excited, and had to be told what had taken place, and 
 this had to bo done by Jasper. Barbara was with her 
 sister. Eve had recovered, and had confessed everything. 
 Now all was clear to the eyes of Barbara. The meeting 
 on the Raven Bock had been the one inexplicable point, 
 and now that was explained. Eve hid nothing from her 
 sister; she told her about the first meeting with Martin, 
 his taking the ring, then about the giving of the turquoise 
 ring, finally about the meeting on the Rock. The story 
 was disquieting. Eve had been very foolish. The only 
 satisfaction to Barbara was the thought that the cause of 
 uneasiness was removed, and about to bo put beyond the 
 power of doing further mischief. Eve would never see 
 Martin again. She had seen so little of him that lie could 
 have produced on her heart but a light and transient im- 
 pression. The romance of the affair had been the main 
 charm with Eve. 
 
 "When Jasper left the squire's room, after a scene that 
 had been painful, Barbara came to him and said, ' I know 
 everything now. Eve met your brother Martin on the 
 Raven Rock. He lias been trying to win her affections. 
 In this also you have been wrongly accused by me.' Then 
 with a faint laugh, but with a timid entreating look, 'I 
 can do no more than confess now, I have such a heavy 
 burden of amends to make.' 
 
 ' Will it be a burden, Barbara ? ' 
 
 She put her hand lightly on his arm. 
 
 4 No, Jasper — a delight.' 
 
 He stooped ami kissed her hand. Little or nothing
 
 GONE I 259 
 
 had passed between them, yet they understood each 
 other. 
 
 ' Hist ! for shame I ' said a sharp voice through the 
 garden window. She looked and saw the craeer face of 
 Watt. 
 
 ' That is too cruel, Jasp — love-making when our poor 
 Martin is in danger ! I did not expect it of you.' 
 
 Barbara was confused. The boy's face could ill be 
 discerned, as there was no candle in the room, and all 
 the light, such as there was— a silvery summer twilight — 
 flowed in at the window, and wa3 intercepted by his 
 head. 
 
 ' Selfish, Jasp ! and you, miss — if you are going to 
 enter the family, you should begin to consider other mem- 
 bers than Jasper,' continued the boy. All his usual 
 mockery was gone from his voice, which expressed alarm 
 and anxiety. ' There lies poor Martin in a stone box, on a 
 little straw, without a mouthful, and his keepers are given 
 what they like ! ' 
 
 'Oh, Jasper!' said Barbara with a start, 'I am so 
 ashamed of myself. I forgot to provide for him.' 
 
 ' You have not considered, I presume, what will become 
 of poor Martin. In self-defence he shot at a warder, and 
 whether he wounded or killed him I cannot say. Poor 
 Martin! Seven years will be spread into fourteen j per- 
 haps twenty-one. What will he bo when he comes out of 
 prison ! What shall I do all these years without him ! ' 
 
 ' Walter,' said Jasper, going to the window, and speak- 
 ing in a subdued voice, ' what can be done ? I am sorry 
 enough for him, but I can do nothing.' 
 
 ' Oh, you will not try.' 
 
 ' Tell me, what can I do ? ' 
 
 'There! let her,' he pointed to Barbara, 'let her 
 come over here and speak with me. Everything now 
 depends on her.' 
 
 ' On me ! ' exclaimed Barbara. 
 
 'Ah, on you. But do not shcut. I can hear if you 
 
 s 2
 
 t6o KVk 
 
 whisper, Miss, that poor fellow in the stone box is 
 Jasper's brother. If you care at all for Jasper, you will 
 not interfere. I do not ask you to move a finger to help 
 Martin : I ask you only not to stand in others' way.' 
 
 1 "What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' Go into the hall, you and Jasper, instead of standing 
 sighing and billing here. Allow me to be there also. 
 There are two more men arrived — two of those who car- 
 ried the winged snipe away. That makes four inside and 
 one outside ; but one is lamed and without his boot. Feed 
 them all well. Don't spare cider ; and give them spirits- 
 and-water. Help to amuse them.' 
 
 ' For what end ? ' 
 
 1 That is no concern of yours. For what end! Hos- 
 pitality, the most ancient of virtues. Above all, do m t 
 interfere with the other one.' 
 
 ' What other one ? ' 
 
 ' You know — Miss Eve,' whispered the boy. ' Ijet the 
 maidens in, the housemaid certainly ; she has a sweetheart 
 among them, and the others will make pickings.' 
 
 Then, without waiting for an answer, the queer boy 
 ran along the gravel path and leaped the dwarf wall into 
 the stable yard, which lay at a lower level. 
 
 ' "What does he mean ? ' asked Barbara. 
 
 1 lie means,' said Jasper, ' that he is going to make an 
 attempt to get poor Martin off.' 
 
 1 But how can he ? ' 
 
 'That I do not know.' 
 
 4 And whether we ought to assist in such a venture I 
 do not know,' said Barbara thoughtfully. 
 
 1 Nor do I,' said Jasper ; ' my heart says one thing, my 
 head the other.' 
 
 ' We will follow our hearts,' said Barbara vehemently, 
 and caught his hands and pressed them. ' Jasper, he is 
 your brother ; with me that is a chief consideration. Come 
 into the hall ; we will give the men some music' 
 
 Jasper and Barbara went to the hall, and found that
 
 GONE! 261 
 
 the warder had las foot bandaged in a chair, and stemed 
 to be in great pain. He was swearing at the constables 
 who had come from Beer Alston for not having called at 
 the ' Hare and Hounds ' on their way for his boot. He 
 tried to induce one of them to go back for it ; but the 
 sight of the fire, the jugs of cider, the plates heaped 
 with cake, made them unwilling again to leave the house. 
 
 ' We ain't a-going without our supper,' was their re- 
 tort. • You are comfortable enough here, with plenty to 
 eat and to drink.' 
 
 'But,' complained the man, * I can't go for my boot 
 myself, don't you see ? ' Bat sse they would not. Jane 
 had forgotten all her duties about the house in the excite- 
 ment of having her Joseph there. She had stolen into the 
 hall, and got her policeman into a corner. 
 
 ' When is it your turn to keep guard, Joe ? ' she asked. 
 
 ' Not for another hour,' he replied. • I wish I hadn't 
 to go out at all.' 
 
 1 Oh, Joe, I'll go and keep guard with you ! ' 
 
 Also the cook stole in with a bowl and a sponge, 
 and a strong savour of vinegar. She had come to bathe 
 the warder's foot, unsolicited, moved only by a desire to do 
 good, doubtless. Also the under-housemaid's beady eyes 
 were visible at the door looking in to see if more fuel were 
 required for the lire. 
 
 Clearly, there was no need for Barbara to summon her 
 maids. As a dead camel in the desert attracts all the 
 vultures within a hundred miles, so the presence of these 
 men in the hall drew to them all the young women in the 
 house. 
 
 When they saw their mistress enter, they exhibited 
 uomi) hesitation. Barbara, however, gave them a nod, and 
 more was not needed to encourage them to stay. 
 
 • Jane,' said Barbara, ' here is the key. Fetch a couple 
 of bottles of Jamaica rum, or one of rum and one ol 
 brandy. Patience,' to the under-houeemnid, • bring hot 
 water, sugar, tumblers, and spoons.'
 
 262 EVE 
 
 A thrill of delight passed through the hearts of tho 
 men, and their eyes sparkled. 
 
 Then in at the door came the hoy with his violin, 
 fiddling, capering, dancing, making faces. In a moment 
 he sprang on the tahle, seated himself, and hegan to play 
 some of the pretty ' Don Giovanni ' dance music. 
 
 He signed to Barbara with his how, and pointed to the 
 piano in the parlour, the door of which was open, bho 
 understood him and went in, lit the candles, and took a 
 • Don Giovanni ' which her sister had bought, and prac- 
 tised with Jasper. Then he signed to his brother, and 
 Jasper also took down his violin, tuned it, and began to play. 
 
 ' Let us bring tho piano into the hall,' said Barbara, 
 and the men started to fulfil her wish. Four of them con- 
 veyed it from the parlour. At the same time the rum and 
 hot water appeared, the spoons clinked in the glasses. 
 Patience, the undcr-houscmaid, threw a faggot on the 
 fire. 
 
 ' What is that?' exclaimed the lame warder, pointing 
 
 through the window. 
 
 It was only the guard, who had extended his march to 
 the hall and put his face to the glass to look in at the 
 brew of rum-and-water, and the comfortable party about 
 the fire. ' Go back on your beat, you scoundrel ! ' shouted 
 the warder, menacing the constable with his fist. Then 
 the face disappeared; but every time the sentinel reached 
 the hall window, he applied his nose to the pane and stared 
 in thirstily at the grog that steamed and ran down the 
 throats of his comrades, and cursed the duty that kept him 
 without in the falling dew. His appearance at intervals at 
 the glass, where the fire and candlelight illumined hia 
 face, was like that of a fish rising to the surface of a 
 pond to breathe. 
 
 ' Is your time come yet outside, Joe dear ? ' whispered 
 Jane. 
 
 'Hope not,' growled Joseph, helping himself freely to 
 rum ; putting his hand round the tumbler, so that none
 
 GONE! 263 
 
 might observe Low high the spirit stood in the glass 
 before he added the water. 
 
 ' Oh, Joe duckic, don't say that. I'll go and keep you 
 company on the stone steps : we'll sit there in the moon- 
 light all alone, as sweet as anything.' 
 
 ' You couldn't ekal this grog.' answered the unromantic 
 Joseph, ' if you was ever so sweet. I've put in four lumps 
 of double-refined.' 
 
 ' You've a sweet tooth, Joe,' said Jane. 
 
 'Shall I bathe your poor suffering foot again?' asked 
 the cook, casting languishing eyes at the warder. 
 
 'By-and-by, when the liquor is exhausted,' answered 
 the warder. 
 
 ' Would you like a little more hot water to the spirit ? ' 
 said Patience, who was setting — as it is termed in dance 
 phraseology— at the youngest of the constables. 
 
 'No, miss, but I'd trouble you for a little more spirit,' 
 he answered, 'to qualify the hot water.' 
 
 Then the scullery-maid, who had also found her way 
 in, blocked the other constable in the corner, and offered, 
 to sugar his rum. He was a married man, middle-aged, 
 and with a huge disfiguring mole on his nose ; but there 
 was no one else for the damsel to ogle and address, so she 
 fixed upon him. 
 
 All at once, whilst this by-play was going on, under 
 cover of the music, the door from the staircase opened, 
 and in sprang Eve, with her tambourine, dressed in the 
 red-and-yellow costume she had found in the garret, and 
 wearing her burnished necklace of bezants. Barbara 
 withdrew her hands from the piano in dismay, and flushed 
 wit li shame. 
 
 'Eve!' she exclaimed, 'go back! How can you!' 
 But the boy from the table beckoned again to her, point- 
 ing to the piano, and her fingers ; Eve skipped up to her 
 and whispered, ' Let me alone, for Jasper's sake,' then 
 bounded into the middle of 'he hull, and rattled her 
 tambourine and clinked its jingles,
 
 264 EVE 
 
 The men applauded, and tossed off their rum-and- 
 water; then, having finished the rum, mixed themselves 
 eagerly hot jorums of brandy. 
 
 The face was at the window, with the nose flat and 
 white against the glass, like a dab of putty. 
 
 Barbara's forehead darkened, and she drew her lips 
 together. Her conscience was not satisfied. She suspected 
 that this behaviour of Eve was what Walter had alluded 
 to when he begged her not to interfere. Walter had seen 
 Eve, and planned it with her. Was she right, Barbara 
 asked herself, in what she was doing to help a criminal to 
 escape ? 
 
 The money he had taken was theirs — Eve's ; and if 
 Eve chose to forgive him and release him from his punish- 
 ment, why should she object ? Martin was the brother of 
 Jasper, and for Jasper's sake she must go on with what 
 she had begun. 
 
 So she put her fingers on the keys again, and at once 
 Watt and Jasper resumed their instruments. They played 
 the music in 'Don Giovanni,' in the last act, where the 
 banquet is interrupted by the arrival of the statue. Bar- 
 bara knew that Eve was dancing alone in the middle ol 
 the floor before these men, before him also who ought to 
 be pacing up and down in front of the corn-chamber; but 
 she would not turn her head over her shoulder to look at 
 her, and her brow burnt, and her cheeks, usually pale, 
 flamed. As for Eve, she was supremely happy ; tho 
 applause of the lookers-on encouraged her. Her move- 
 ments were graceful, her beauty radiant. She looked like 
 Zerlina on the boards. 
 
 Suddenly the boy dropped his bow, and before anyone 
 could arrest his hand, or indeed had a suspicion of mischief, 
 he threw a canister of gunpowder into the blazing fire. 
 Instantly there was an explosion. The logs were flung 
 about the floor, Eve and the maids screamed, the piano 
 and violins were hushed, doors were burst open, panes of
 
 GONE! 265 
 
 glass broken and fell clinking, and every candle was ex- 
 tinguished. Fortunately the hall floor was of slate. 
 
 The men were the first to recover themselves — all, that 
 is, but the warder, who shrieked and swore because a red- 
 hot cinder had alighted on his bad foot. 
 
 The logs were thrust together again upon the hearth, 
 and a flame sprang up. 
 
 No one was hurt, but in the doorway, white, with wild 
 eyes, stood Mr. Jordan, signing with his hand, but unable 
 to speak. 
 
 'Oh, papa! dear papa!' exclaimed Barbara, running 
 to him, 'do go back to bed. No one is hurt. We have 
 had a fright, that is all.' 
 
 'Fools!' cried the old man, brandishing his stick. 
 ' He is gone 1 I saw him — he ran past my window.' 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 ANOTHER SACRIFICE. 
 
 Watt was no longer in the hall. Whither he had gone 
 none knew ; how he had gone none knew. The man in 
 the quadrangle was too alarmed by the glass panes being 
 blown out in his face, to see whether the boy had passed 
 that way. But, indeed, no one now gave thought to Watt; 
 the men ran to the corn-chamber to examine it. A lantern 
 was lighted, the door examined and found to be locked. 
 It was unfastened, and Joseph and the rest entered. The 
 light penetrated every corner, fell on the straw and the 
 onion-heap. Martin Babb was not there. 
 
 'May I be darned!' exclaimed Joseph, holding the 
 lantern over his head. 'I looked at the walls, at the floor, 
 at tho door : I never thought of the roof, and it is by the 
 roof he has got away.' 
 
 Indeed, the corn-chamber was uncoiled. Martin,
 
 266 EVE 
 
 possibly assisted, had reached the rafters, thence had 
 crept along the roof in the attics, and had entered the 
 room that belonged to the girls, and descended frcm the 
 window by the old Jargonelle pear. 
 
 Then the constables and Joseph turned on the sentinel, 
 and heaped abuse upon him for not having warned them 
 of what was going on. It was in vain for him to protest 
 that from the outside he could not detect what was in 
 process of execution under the roof. Blame must attach 
 to someone, and he was one against four. 
 
 Their tempers were not the more placable when it was 
 seen that the bottle of brandy had been upset and was 
 empty, the precious spirit having expended itself on the 
 lloor. 
 
 Then the question was mooted whether the fugitive 
 should not be pursued at once, but the production by 
 Barbara of another bottle of rum decided them not to do 
 so, but await the arrival of morning. Suddenly it occur- 
 red to Joseph that the blame attached, not to any of those 
 present, who had done their utmost, but to the warder 
 who had been shot, and so had detached two of their 
 number, and had reduced the body so considerably by this 
 fatality as to incapacitate them from drawing a cordon 
 round the house and watching it from every side. If 
 that warder were to die, then the whole blame might 
 be shovelled upon him along with the earth into his 
 grave. 
 
 The search was recommenced next day, but was in- 
 effectual. In which direction Martin had gone could not 
 be found. Absolutely no traces of him could be discovered. 
 
 Presently Mr. Coyshe arrived, in a state of great ex- 
 citement, lie had attended the wounded mm, and had 
 heard an account of the capture; on his way to Morwell 
 ilis rumour reached him that the man had broken away 
 again. Mr. Coyshe had, as he put it, an inquiring mind. 
 lie thirsted for knowledge, whether of scientific or of 
 social interest. Indeed, he took a lively interest in other
 
 ANOTHER SACRIFICE 267 
 
 people's affairs. So lie came on foot, as hard as lie could 
 walk, to Morwell, to learn all particulars, and at the same 
 time pay a professional visit to Mr. Jordan. 
 
 Barbara at once asked Mr. Coyshe into the parlour ; 
 she wanted to have a word with him heforc he saw her 
 father. 
 
 Barbara was very uneasy about Eve, whoso frivolity, 
 lack of ballast, and want — as she feared— of proper self- 
 respect might lead her into mischief. How could her sister 
 have been so foolish as to dress up and dance last evening 
 before a parcel of common constables ! To Barbara such 
 conduct was inconceivable. She herself was dignified and 
 stiff with her inferiors, and would as soon have thought of 
 acting before them as Eve had done as of jumping over 
 the moon. She did not consider how her own love and 
 that of her father had fostered caprice and vanity in the 
 young girl, till she craved for notice and admiration. Bar- 
 bara thought over all that Eve had told her : how she had 
 lost her mother's ring, how she had received the ring of 
 turquoise, how she had met Martin on the Bock platform. 
 Every incident proclaimed to her mind the instability, the 
 lack of self-respect, in her sister. The girl needed to be 
 watched and put into firmer hands. She and her father 
 had spoiled her. Now that the mischief was done she 
 saw it. 
 
 "What better step could be taken to rectify the mistake 
 than that of bringing Mr. Coyshe to an engagement with 
 Eve? 
 
 She was a straightforward, even blunt, girl, and when 
 she had an aim in view went to her work at once. So, 
 without beating about the bush, ?he said to the young 
 doctor — 
 
 ' Mr. Coyshe, you did me the honour the other day of 
 confiding to me your attachment to Eve. I have been 
 considering it, and I want to know whether you intend at 
 once to speak to her. I told my father your wishes, and 
 he is, I believe, not indisposed to forward them.'
 
 268 EVE 
 
 ' I am delighted to hear it,' said the surgeon ; ' I 
 would like above everything to have the matter settled, 
 but Miss Eve never gives me a chance of speaking to her 
 alone.' 
 
 ' She is shy,' said Barbara ; then, thinking that this 
 was not exactly true, she corrected herself ; ' that is to 
 say — she, as a young girl, shrinks from what she expects 
 is coming from you. Can you wonder ? ' 
 
 1 1 don't see it. I'm not an ogre.' 
 
 ' Girls have feelings which, perhaps, men cannot com- 
 prehend,' said Barbara. 
 
 ' I do not wish to be precipitate,' observed the young 
 surgeon. ' I'll take a chair, please, and then I can explain 
 to you fully my circumstances and my difficulties.' He 
 suited his action to his word, and graciously signed to 
 Barbara to sit on the sofa near his chair. Then he put 
 his hat between his feet, calmly took off his gloves and 
 threw them into his hat. 
 
 'I hate precipitation,' said Mr. Coyshe. 'Let us 
 thoroughly understand each other. I am a poor man. 
 Excuse me, Miss Jordan, if I talk in a practical manner. 
 You are long and clear headed, so — but I need not tell you 
 that — so am I. We can comprehend each other, and for a 
 moment lay aside that veil of romance and poetry which 
 invests an engagement.' 
 
 Barbara bowed. 
 
 ' An atmosphere surrounds a matrimonial alliance ; let 
 us puff it away for a moment and look at the bare facts. 
 Seen from a poetic standpoint, marriage is the union of 
 two loving hearts, the rapture of two souls discovering 
 each other. From the sober ground of common sense it 
 means two loaves of bread a day instead of one, a milliner's 
 bill at the end of the year in addition to that of the tailor, 
 two tons of coals where one had sufficed. I need not tell 
 you, being a prudent person, that when I am out for the 
 day my fire is not lighted. If I had a wife of course a fire 
 would have to burn all day. I may almost say that matri-
 
 ANOTHER SACRIFICE 269 
 
 mony means three tons of coal instead of one, and you 
 know Low costly coals come here.' 
 
 ' But, Mr. Coyshe ' 
 
 ' Excuse me,' he said, ' I may be plain, but I am truth- 
 ful. I am putting matters before you in the way in which 
 I am forced to view them myself. When an ordinary in- 
 dividual looks on a beautiful woman he sees only her 
 beauty. I see more ; I anatomise her mentally, and fol- 
 low the bones, and nerves, and veins, and muscles. So 
 with this lovely matrimonial prospect. I see its charms, 
 but I see also what lies beneath, the anatomy, so to speak, 
 and that means increased coal, butcher's, baker's bills, 
 three times the washing, additional milliners' accounts.' 
 
 ' You know, Mr. Coyshe,' said Barbara, a little startled 
 at the way he put matters, ' you know that eventually 
 Morwell comes to Eve.' 
 
 ' My dear Miss Jordan, if a man walks in stocking 
 soles, expecting his father-in-law's shoes, he is likely to go 
 limpingly. How am I to live so long as Mr. Jordan lives ? 
 I know I should flourish after his death — but in the mean 
 time — there is the rub. I'd marry Eve to-morrow but for 
 the expense.' 
 
 ' Is there not something sordid ' began Barbara 
 
 ' I will not allow you to finish a sentence, Miss Jordan, 
 which your good sense will reproach you for uttering. I 
 saw at a fair a booth with outside a picture of a mermaid 
 combing her golden hair, and with the face of an angel. 
 I paid twopence and went inside, to behold a seal flopping 
 in a tub of dirty water. All the great events of life — 
 birth, marriage, death — are idealised by poets, as that dis- 
 gusting seal was idealised on the canvas by the artist : 
 horrible things in themselves but inevitable, and therefore 
 to be faced as well as we may. I need not have gone in 
 and seen that seal, but I was deluded to do so by the ideal 
 picture.' 
 
 ' Surely,' exclaimed Barbara laughing, 'you put mar- 
 riage in a false light ? '
 
 a;o EVE 
 
 ' Not a bit. In almost every case it Is as is described, 
 a delusion and a horrible disenchantment. It shall not be 
 so with me, so I picture it in all its real features. H you 
 do not understand me the fault lies with you. Even the 
 blessed sun cannot illumine a room when the pani i of the 
 window are dull. I am a poor man, and a poor man must 
 look at matters from what you are pleased to speak of as a 
 sordid point of view. There are plants I have seen sus- 
 pended in windows said to live on air. They are all 
 pendulous. Nov,' I am not disposed to become a drooping 
 plant. Live on air I cannot. There is enough earth in 
 my pot for my own roots, but for my own alone.' 
 
 ' I see,' said Barbara, laughing, but a little irritated. 
 1 You are ready enough to marry, but have not the means 
 on which to marry.' 
 
 ' Exactly,' answered Mr. Coyshe. • I have a magnificent 
 future before me, but I am like a man swimming, who sees 
 the land but does not touch as much as would blacken his 
 nails. Lord bless you ! ' said Air. Coyshe, ' I support a 
 wife on what I get at Beer Alston ! Lord bless me ! ' he 
 stood up and sat down again, ' you might as well expect a 
 cock to lay eggs.' 
 
 Barbara bit her lips. ' I should not have thought you 
 so practical,' she said. 
 
 ' I am forced to be so. It is the fate of poor men to 
 have to count their coppers. Then there is another matter. 
 If I were married, well, of course, it is possible that 1 
 might be the founder of a happy family. In the South 
 Sea Islands the natives send their parents periodically up 
 trees and then shake the trunks. If the old people hold 
 on they are reprieved, if they fall they are eaten. 'We eat 
 our parents in England also, and don't wait till they are 
 old and leathery. Wo begin with them when we are 
 babes, and never leave off till nothing is left of them to 
 devour. We feed on their energies, consume their sub- 
 stance, their time, their brains, their hearts piecemeal.' 
 
 ' Well ! '
 
 ANOTHER SACRIFICE 271 
 
 'Well,' repeated Mr. Coyslie, 'if I am to be eaten I 
 must have flesh on my bones for the coming Coyshes to 
 eat.' 
 
 ' You need not be alarmed as to the prospect,' said 
 Barbara gravely. ' I have boon hit a few hundred pounds 
 by my aunt, they bring in about fifty pounds a year. I 
 will make it over to my sister.' 
 
 ' You sec for yourself,' said Mr. Coyshe, ' that Eve is 
 not a young lady who can he made into a sort of house- 
 keeper. She is too dainty for that. Turnips may be toss d 
 about, but not apricots.' 
 
 'Yes,' said Barbara, • I and my sieter are quite dif- 
 ferent.' 
 
 ' You will not repent of this determination ? ' asked 
 Mr. Coyshe. ' I suppose it would not be asking you too 
 much just to drop me a letter with the expression of your 
 intention stated in it ? I confess to a weakness for black 
 and white. The memory is so treacherous, and I find it 
 very like an adhesive chest plaster — it sticks only on that 
 side which applies to self.' 
 
 ' Mr. Coyshe,' said Barbara, ' shall we go in and see 
 papa ? You shall be satisfied. My memory will not play 
 me false. My whole heart is wrapped up in dear Eve, and 
 the great ambition of my life is to see her happy. Come, 
 then, we will go to papa.' 
 
 CHARTER XLI. 
 
 ANOTHER MISTAKE. 
 
 Barbara saw Mr. Coyshe into her father's room, and then 
 went upstairs to Eve, caught her by the arm, and drew 
 her into her own room. Barbara had now completely made 
 up her mind that her sister was to become Mrs. Coyshe. 
 Eve was a child, never would be other, never capable of 
 deciding reasonably for herself. Those who loved In r,
 
 272 EVE 
 
 those who had care of her must decide for her. Barbara 
 and her father had grievously erred hitherto in humour- 
 ing all Eve's caprices, now they must be peremptory with 
 her, and arrange for her what was best, and force her to 
 accept the provision made for her. 
 
 What arc love matches but miserable disappointments ? 
 Not quite so bad as pictured by Mr. Coyshe. The reality 
 would not differ from the ideal as thoroughly as the seal 
 from the painted mermaid ; but there was truth in what 
 he said. A love match was entered into by two young 
 psople who have idealised each other, and before the first 
 Aveek is out of the honeymoon they find the ideal shat- 
 tered, and a very prosaic reality standing in its place. 
 Then follow disappointment, discontent, rebellion. Far 
 better the foreign system of parents choosing partners for 
 their children ; they are best able to discover the real 
 qualities of the suitor because they study them dispas- 
 sionately, and they know the characters of their daughters. 
 Who can love a child more than a parent, and therefore 
 who is better qualified to match her suitably ? 
 
 So Barbara argued with herself. Certainly Eve must 
 not be left to select her husband. She was a creature of 
 impulse, without a grain of common-sense in her whole 
 nature. 
 
 Barbara drew Eve down beside her on the sofa at the 
 foot of her bed, and put her arm round her waist. Eve 
 was pouting, and had red eyes ; for her sister had scolded 
 her that morning sharply for her conduct the preceding 
 night, and her father had been excited, and for the first 
 time in his life had spoken angrily to her, and bidden her 
 cast off and never resume the costume in which she had 
 dressed and bedizened herself. 
 
 Eve had retired to her room in a sulk, and in a rebel- 
 lious frame of mind. She cried and called herself an ill- 
 treated girl, and was overcome with immense pity for the 
 hardships she had to undergo among people who could not 
 understand and would not humour her.
 
 ANOTHER MISTAKE 273 
 
 Eve's lips were screwed up, and her brow as nearly 
 contracted into a frown as it could be, and her sweet 
 cheeks were kindled with fiery temper- spots. 
 
 ' Eve dear,' said Barbara, ' Mr. Coyshe is come.' 
 
 Eve made no answer, her lips took another screw, and 
 her brows contracted a little more. 
 
 ' Eve, he is closeted now with papa, and I know he has 
 come to ask for the hand of the dearest little girl in the 
 whole world.' 
 
 ' Stuff ! ' said Eve peevishly. . 
 
 1 Not stuff at all,' argued Barbara, ' nor' — intercepting 
 another exclamation — ' no, dear, nor fiddlesticks. He has 
 been talking to me in the parlour. He is sincerely attached 
 to you. He is an odd man, and views things in quite a 
 different way from others, but I think I made out that he 
 wanted you to be his wife.' 
 
 ' Barbara,' said Eve, with great emphasis, ' nothing in 
 the world would induce me to submit to be called Mrs. 
 Squash.' 
 
 ' My dear, if the name is the only objection, I think 
 he will not mind changing it. Indeed, it is only proper 
 that he should. As he and you will have Morwell, it is of 
 course right that a Jordan should be here, and — to please 
 the Duke and you — he will, I feel sure, gladly assume our 
 name. I agree with you that, though Coyshe is not a bad 
 name, it is not a pretty one. It lends itself to corruption.' 
 
 1 Babb is worse,' said Eve, still sulky. 
 
 • Yes, darling, Babb is ugly, and it is the pet name you 
 gi\Q me, as short for Barbara. I have often told you that 
 I do not like it.' 
 
 • You never said a word against it till Jasper came.' 
 
 ' Well, dear, I may not have done so. When he did 
 settle here, and we knew his name, it was not, of course, 
 seemly to call me by it. That is to say,' said Barbara, 
 colouring, ' it led to confusion— in calling for me, for in- 
 stance, he might have thought you were addressing him.' 
 
 ' Not at all,' said Eve, still filled with a perverse spirit. 
 
 T
 
 274 EVE 
 
 1 1 never called him Babb at all, I always called him 
 Jasper.' Then she took up her little apron and pulled at 
 the embroidered ends, and twisted and tortured them into 
 horns. ' It would be queer, sister, if you were to marry 
 Jasper, you would become double Babb.' 
 
 1 Don't,' exclaimed Barbara, bridling ; ' this is un- 
 worthy of you, Eve ; you are trying to turn your arms 
 against me, when I am attacking you.' 
 
 1 May I not defend myself '? ' 
 
 Then Barbara drew her arm tighter round her Bister, 
 kissed her pretty neck under the delicate shell-like ear, and 
 said, ' Sweetest ! we never fight. I never would raise a 
 hand against you. I would run a pair of scissors into my 
 own heart rather than snip a corner off this dear little ear. 
 There, no more fencing even with wadded foil3. "We were 
 talking of Mr. Coyshe.' 
 
 Eve shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 ' Bevenons a nos moutons,' she said, ' though I cannot 
 say old Coyshe is a sheep ; he strikes me rather as a 
 jackdaw.' 
 
 ' Old Coyshe ! how can you exaggerate so, Eve ! Ho 
 is not more than five or six-and-twenty.' 
 
 ' He is wise and learned enough to be regarded as old. 
 I hate wise and learned men.' 
 
 ' "What is there that you do not hate which is not light 
 and frivolous?' asked Barbara a little pettishly. 'You 
 have no serious interests in anything.' 
 
 • I have no interests in anything here,' said Eve, ' be- 
 cause there is nothing here to interest me. I do not care 
 for turnips and mangold, and what are the pigs and poul- 
 try to me ? Can I be enthusiastic over draining ? Can the 
 price of bark make my pulses dance ? No, Barbie (Bab 
 you object to), I am sick of a country life in a poky corner 
 of the most out-of-the-way county in England except Corn- 
 wall. Really, Barbie, I believe I would marry any man 
 who would take me to London, and let me go to the thea- 
 tre and to balls, and concerts and shows. Why, Barbara!
 
 ANOTHER MISTAKE 275 
 
 I'd rather travel round the country in a caravan and dance 
 on a tight-rope than be moped up here in Morwell, an old 
 fusty, mouldering monk's cell.' 
 
 « My dear Eve ! ' 
 
 Barbara was so shocked, she could say no more. 
 
 ' I am in earnest. Papa is ill, and that makes the 
 place more dull than ever. Jasper was some fun, he 
 played the violin, and taught me music, but now you havo 
 meddled, and deprived me of that amusement ; I am sick 
 of the monotony here. It is only a shade better than Lan- 
 herne convent, and you know papa took me away from 
 that ; I fell ill with the restraint.' 
 
 ' You have no restraint here.' 
 
 ' No— but I have nothing to interest me. I feel always 
 as if I was hungry for something I could not get. Why 
 should I have " Don Giovanni," and "Figaro," and the 
 "Barber of Seville" on my music-stand, and strum at 
 them ? I want to see them, and hear them alive, acting, 
 singing, particularly amid lights and scenery, and in proper 
 costume. I cannot bear this dull existence any longer. If 
 Doctor Squash will take me to a theatre or an opera I'll 
 marry him, just for that alone — that is my last word.' 
 
 Barbara was accustomed to hear Eve talk extravagantly, 
 and had not been accustomed to lay much weight on what 
 she said ; but this was spoken so vehemently, and was so 
 prodigiously extravagant, that Barbara could only loosen 
 her hold of her sister, draw back to the far end of the sofa, 
 and stare at her dismayedly. In her present state of dis- 
 tress about Eve she thought more seriously of Eve's words 
 than they deserved. Eve was angry, discontented, and 
 Baid what came uppermost, so as to annoy her sister. 
 
 ' Eve dear,' said Barbara gravely, ' I pray you not to 
 talk in this manner, as if you had said good-bye to all 
 right principle and sound sense. Mr. Coyshe is downstairs. 
 We must decide on an answer, and that a definite one.' 
 
 ' Wc I ' repeated Eve ; ' I supposo it concerns mo 
 only.' 
 
 T 2
 
 2 76 EVE 
 
 « What concerns you concerns mo ; you know that very 
 
 well, Eve.' 
 
 • I am not at liberty, I suppose, to choose for myself? * 
 
 • You are a dear good girl, who will elect what is most 
 pleasing to your father and sister, and promises greatest 
 happiness to yourself.' 
 
 Eve sat pouting and playing with the ends of her apron. 
 Then she took one end which she had twisted into a horn, 
 and put it between her pearly teeth, whilst she looked fur- 
 tively and mischievously at her sister, who sat with her 
 hands on her lap, tapping the floor with her feet. 
 
 ' Barbie ! ' said Eve slily. 
 
 « Well, dear ! ' 
 
 ' Do lend mo your pocket-handkerchief. I have been 
 crying and made mine wet. Papa was so cross and you 
 scolded mo so sharply.' 
 
 Barbara, without looking at her sister, held out her 
 handkerchief to her. Eve took it, pulled it out by the 
 two ends, twirled it round, folded, knotted it, worked dili- 
 gently at it, got it into the compact shape she desired, laid 
 it in her arms, with the fingers under it, and then, without 
 Barbara seeing what she was about—' Hist ! ' said Eve, 
 and away shot the white rabbit she had manufactured into 
 Barbara's lap. Then she burst into a merry laugh. The 
 clouds had rolled away. The sun was shining. 
 
 ' Plow can you ! How can you be so childish ! ' burst 
 from Barbara, as she started up, and let the white rabbit 
 fall at her feet. ' Here we are,' said Barbara, with some 
 anger, ' here we are discussing your future, and deciding 
 your happiness or sorrow, and you — you arc making white 
 rabbits ! You really, Eve, are no better than a child. You 
 are not fit to choose for yourself. Come along with me. 
 We must go down. Papa and I will settle for you as is 
 best. You want a master who will bring you into order, 
 and, if possible, force you to think.' 
 
 - J
 
 ENGAGED 277 
 
 CHAPTER XLIL 
 
 ENGAGED. 
 
 If a comparison were made between the results of well and 
 ill considered ventures, which would prove the most uni- 
 formly successful ? Not certainly those undertakings which 
 have been most carefully weighed and prudently deter- 
 mined on. Just as frequently the rash and precipitate 
 venture is crowned with success as that which has been 
 wisely considered; and just as often the latter proves a 
 failure, and falsifies every expectation. Nature, Fate, 
 whatever it be that rules our destinies, rules them crookedly, 
 and, with mischief, upsets all our calculations. We build 
 our card-houses, and she fillips a marble into them and 
 brings them down. Why do we invariably stop every hole 
 except that by which the sea rolls through our dyke? 
 Why do we always forget to lock the stable door till the 
 nag has been stolen ? 
 
 The old myth is false which tells of Prometheus as 
 bound and torn and devoured by the eagle ; Pro-metheus 
 is free and unrent, it is Epi-metheus who is in chains, and 
 writhing, and looks back on the irrevocable past, and curses 
 itself and is corroded with remorse. 
 
 What is the fine of Forethought but to be flouted by 
 capricious Destiny, to be ever proved a fool and blind, to be 
 shown that it were just as well had it never existed? 
 
 Eve hung back as Barbara led her to her father's door. 
 Mr. Coyshe was in there, and though she had said she 
 would take him she did not mean it. She certainly did 
 not want to have to make her decision then. Her face be- 
 came a little pale, some of the bright colour had gone from 
 it when her temper subsided and she had begun to play at 
 making rabbits. Now more left her checks, and she held 
 back as Barbara tried to draw her on. But Barbara was
 
 278 EVE 
 
 very determined, and though Eve was wayward, she would 
 not take the trouble to be obstinate. ' I can but say no,' 
 she said to herself, ' if the creature docs ask me.' Then 
 she whispered into Barbara's car, ' Bab, I won't have a 
 scene before all the parish.' 
 
 ' All the parish, dear ! ' remonstrated the elder, ' there 
 is no one there but papa and the doctor ; and if the latter 
 means to speak he will ask to have a word with you in 
 private, and you can go into the drawing-room.' 
 
 ' But I don't want to see him.' 
 
 Barbara threw open the door. 
 
 Mr. Jordan was propped up in his bed on pillows. lie 
 was much worse, and a feverish fire burned in his eyes and 
 cheeks. He saw Eve at once and called her to him. 
 
 Then her ill-humour returned, she pouted and looked 
 away from Mr. Coyshe so as not to see him. He bowed 
 and smiled, and pushed forward extending his hand, but 
 she brushed past with her eyes fixed on her father. Bhe 
 was angry with Barbara for having brought her down. 
 
 'Eve,' said Mr. Jordan, 'I am very ill. The doctor 
 has warned me that I have been much hurt by what 
 has happened. It was your doing, Eve. You were 
 foolish last night. You forgot what was proper to your 
 station. Your want of consideration is the cause of my 
 being so much worse, and of that scoundrel's escape.' 
 
 1 papa, I am very sorry I hurt you, but as for his get- 
 ting off — I am glad ! He had stolen my money, so I have 
 a right to forgive him, and that I do freely.' 
 
 ' Eve ! ' exclaimed her father, ' you do not know what 
 you say. Come nearer to me, child.' 
 
 ' If I am to be scolded, papa,' said Eve, sullenly, 'I'd 
 like not to have it done in public' She looked round the 
 room, everywhere but at Mr. Coyshe. Her sister watched 
 her anxiously. 
 
 'Eve,' said the old man, 'I am very ill and am not 
 likely to bo strong again. I cannot be always with you. I 
 am not any more capable to act as your protector, and
 
 ENGAGED 279 
 
 Barbara has the cares of the house, and lacks the authority 
 to govern and lead you.' 
 
 ' I don't want any governing and leading, papa,' said 
 Eve, studying the bed cover. 'Papa,' after a moment, 
 * whilst you lie in bed, don't you think all those little tufts 
 on the counterpane look like poplars? I often do, and 
 imagine gardens and walks and pleasure-grounds among 
 them.' 
 
 ' Eve,' said her father, ' I am not going to be put off 
 what I have to say by such poor artifices as this. I am 
 going to send you back to Lanherne.' 
 
 ' Lanherne ! ' echoed Eve, springing back. ' I can't go 
 there, papa ; indeed I can't. It is dull enough here, but 
 it is ten thousand times duller there. I have just said so to 
 Barbara. I can't go, I won't go to Lanherne. I don't see 
 why I should be forced. I'm not going to be a nun. My 
 education has been completed under Barbara. I know 
 where Cape Guardafui is, and the Straits of Malacca, and 
 the Coromandel Coast. I know Mangnall's questions and 
 answers right through — that is, I know the questions and 
 some of the answers. lean read " Tcleinaque." What 
 more is wanted of any girl? I don't desire any more 
 learning I hate Lanherne. I fell ill last time I was there. 
 Those nuns look like hobgoblins, and not like angels. I 
 shall run away. Besides, it was eternally semolina pud- 
 ding there, and, papa, I hate semolina. Always semolina 
 on fast days, and the puddings sometimes burnt. There 
 now, my education is incomplete. I do not know whence 
 semolina comes. Is it vegetable, papa ? Mr. Coyshc, you 
 are scientific, tell us the whole history of the production ol 
 this detestable article of commerce.' 
 
 1 Semolina ' began Mr. Coyshe. 
 
 ' Never mind about semolina,' interrupted Barbara, 
 who saw through her sister's tricks. 'We will turn up 
 the word in the encyclopaedia afterwards. We are consi- 
 dering Lanherne now.' 
 
 'I don't mind the larcre-grained semolina so much,'
 
 280 EVE 
 
 said Eve, with a face of childlike simplicity; 'that ia 
 almost as good as tapioca.' 
 
 Her father caught her wrist and drew her hand upon 
 the bed. He clutched it so tightly that she exclaimed that 
 he hurt her. 
 
 ' Eve,' he said, ' it is necessary for you to go. 
 
 Her face hecame dull and stubborn again. 
 
 ' Is Mr. Co} she here to examine my chest, and see if I 
 am strong enough to endure confinement ? Because I was 
 the means, according to you, papa, of poor — of the 
 prisoner escaping last night, therefore I am to be sent to 
 prison myself to-morrow.' 
 
 ' I am not sending you to prison,' said her father, 
 ' I am placing you under wise and pious guardians. You 
 are not to be trusted alone any more. Barbara baa 
 been ' 
 
 ' There ! there ! ' exclaimed Eve, flashing an angry 
 glance at her sister, and bursting into tears ; ' was there 
 ever a poor girl so badly treated? I am scolded, and 
 threatened with jail. My sister, who should love me and 
 take my part, is my chief tormentor, and instigates you, 
 papa, against me. She is rightly called Barbara — she is a 
 savage. I know so much Latin as to understand that.' 
 
 Barbara touched Mr. Coyshe, and signed to him to 
 leave the room with her. 
 
 Eve watched them out of the room with satisfaction. 
 She could manage her father, she thought, if left alone with 
 him. But her father was thoroughly alarmed. He had 
 been told that she had met Martin on the rock. Barbara 
 had told him this to exculpate Jasper. Her conduct on the 
 preceding night had, moreover, filled him with uneasi- 
 ness. 
 
 1 Papa,' said Eve, looking at her little foot and shoe, 
 'don't you think Mr. Coyshe's ears stick out very much? 
 I suppose his mother was not particular with him to put 
 them under the rim of his cap.' 
 
 ' I have not noticed.'
 
 ENGAGED 281 
 
 1 And, papa, what eager, staving eyes he has got ! I 
 think he straps his cravat too tight.' 
 
 ' Possibly.' 
 
 ' Do you know, dear papa, there is a little hole just 
 over the mantelshelf in my room, and the other day I saw 
 something hanging down from it. I thought it was a bit 
 of string, and I went up to it and pulled it. Then there 
 came a little squeak, and I screamed. What do you sup- 
 pose I had laid hold of? It was a mouse's tail. Was that 
 not an odd thing, papa, for the wee mouse to sit in its run 
 and let its tail hang down outside ? ' 
 
 'Yes, very odd.' 
 
 ' Papa, how did all those beautiful things come into the 
 house which I found in the chest upstairs ? And why 
 were you so cross with me for putting them on ? ' 
 
 The old man's face changed at once, the wild look came 
 back into his eye, and his hand which clasped her wrist 
 clutched it so convulsively, that she felt his nails cut her 
 tender skin. 
 
 • Eve ! ' he said, and his voice quivered, ' never touch 
 them again. Never speak of them again. My God ! ' he 
 put his hand to his brow and wiped the drops which sud- 
 denly started over it, ' my God ! I fear, I fear for her.' 
 
 Then he turned his agitated face eagerly to her, and 
 said — 
 
 'Eve! you must take him. I wish it. I shall have 
 no peace till I know you are in his hands. He is so wise 
 and so assured. I cannot die and leave you alone. I wake 
 up in the night bathed in a sweat of fear, thinking of you, 
 fearing for you. I imagine all sorts of things. Do you 
 not wish to go to Lanherne ? Then take Mr. Coyshe. He 
 will make you a good husband. I shall be at ease when 
 you are provided for. I cannot die— and I believe I am 
 nearer death than you or Barbara, or even the doctor, sup- 
 poses — I cannot die, and leave you here alone, unprotected. 
 Eve ! if you love me do as I ask. You must cither go to 
 Tianhe.vne or take Mr. Coyshe. It must be one or the
 
 2S2 EVE 
 
 Dther. What is that ? ' he asked suddenly, drawing back 
 in the bed, and staring wildly at her, and pointing at hev 
 forehead with a white quivering finger. 'What is there ? 
 A stain— a spot. One of my black spots, very big. No, it 
 is red. It is blood ! It came there when I was wounded 
 by the scythe, and every now and then it breaks out again. 
 I see it now.' 
 
 4 Papa! ' said Eve, shuddering, 'don't point at me in 
 that way, and look so strange; you frighten me. There 
 is nothing there. Barbie washed it oil' Ion" ago.' 
 
 Then he wavered in his heel, passing one hand over the 
 other, as washing — ' It cannot wash off,' he said, despair- 
 ingly. ' It cats its way in, farther, farther, till it reaches 
 
 the very core of the heart, and then ' he cast himself 
 
 back and moaned. 
 
 ' It was very odd of the mouse,' said Eve, ' to sit with 
 her little back to the room, looking into the dark, and her 
 tail hanging out into the chamber.' She thought to divert 
 her father's thoughts from his fancies. 
 
 ' Eve ! ' he said in a hoarse voice, and turned sharply 
 round on her, ' let me see your mother's ring again. To- 
 day you shall put it on. Hitherto you have worn it hung 
 round your neck. To-day you shall bear it on your finger, 
 in token that you are engaged.' 
 
 ' Oh, papa, dear ! I don't ' 
 
 ' Which is it to be, Lanherne or Mr. Coyshe ? ' 
 
 ' I won't indeed go to Lanherne.' 
 
 ' Very well ; then you will take Mr. Coyshe. He will 
 make you happy. He will not always live here ; he talks 
 of a practice in London. He tells me that he has found 
 favour with the Duke. If he goes to London ' 
 
 ' Oh, papa ! Is he really going to London ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, child ! ' 
 
 'Where all the theatres are! Oh, papa! I should 
 like to live in a town, I do not like being mewed up in the 
 country. Will he have a carriage ? ' 
 
 ' I suppose so.'
 
 E AG AG ED 283 
 
 ' Oh, papa ! and a tiger in buttons and a gold band ? ' 
 
 • I do not know.' 
 
 'I am sure he will, papa! I'd rather have that than 
 go to Lanhcrne.' 
 
 Mr. Jordan knocked with his stick against the wall. 
 Eve was frightened. 
 
 ' Papa, don't be too hasty. I only meant that I hate 
 Lanherne ! ' 
 
 In fact, she was alarmed by his mention of the ring, 
 and following her usual simple tactics had diverted the 
 current of his thoughts into another direction. 
 
 Barbara and Mr. Coyshe came in. 
 
 1 She consents,' said Mr. Jordan. ' Eve, give him your 
 hand. Where is the ring ? ' 
 
 She drew back. 
 
 ' I want the ring,' he said again, impatiently. 
 
 ' Papa, I have not got it— that is — I have mislaid it.' 
 
 4 What ! ' he exclaimed, trying to sit up, and becoming 
 excited. ' The ring— not lost ! Mislaid ! It must be 
 found. I will have it. Your mother's ring ! I will never, 
 never forgive if that is lost. Produce it at once.' 
 
 ' I cannot, papa. I don't know — Mr. Coyshe, 
 
 quick, give me your hand. There ! I consent. Do not be 
 excited, dear papa. I'll find the ring to-morrow.' 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 IN A MINE. 
 
 Eve had no sooner consented to take Mr. Coyshe, just to 
 save herself the inconvenience of being questioned about 
 the lost ring, than she ran out of the room, and to escape 
 further importunity ran over the fields towards the wood. 
 She had scarcely gone three steps from the house before 
 Bhe regretted what she had done. She did not care for Mr. 
 Coyshe. She laughed at his peculiarities. She did not be-
 
 284 EVE 
 
 lieve, like her father and sister, in his cleverness. But she 
 saw that his ears and eyes were unduly prominent, and she 
 was alive to the ridiculous. Mr. Coyshe was more to her 
 fancy than most of the young men of the neighbourhood; 
 who talked of nothing hut sport, and who would grow with 
 advancing age to talk of sport and rates, and beyond rates 
 would not grow. Eve was not fond of hunting. Barbara 
 rarely went after the hounds, Eve never. She did not love 
 horse exercise ; she preferred sauntering in the woods and 
 lanes, gathering autumn-tinted blackberry leaves, to a run 
 over the downs after a fox. Perhaps hunting required too 
 much exertion for her : Eve did not care for exertion. She 
 made dolls' clothes still, at the age of seventeen ; she 
 played on the piano and sang ; she collected leaves and 
 flowers for posies. That was all Eve cared to do. What- 
 ever she did she did it listlessly, because nothing thoroughly 
 interested her. Yet she felt that there might be things 
 which were not to be encountered at Morwell that would 
 stir her heart and make her pulses bound. In a word, she 
 had an artistic nature, and the world in which she moved 
 was a narrow and inartistic world. Her proper faculties 
 were unevoked. Her true nature slept. 
 
 The hoot of an owl, followed by a queer little face peep- 
 ing at her from behind a pine. She did not at once re- 
 cognise Watt, as her mind was occupied with her engage- 
 ment to Mr. Coyshe. 
 
 Now at the very moment Watt showed himself her 
 freakish mind had swerved from a position of disgust at 
 her engagement, into one of semi-content with it. Mr. 
 Coyshe was going to London, and there she would be free 
 to enjoy herself after her own fashion, in seeing plays, 
 hearing operas, going to all the sights of the great town, 
 in a life of restless pleasure-seeking, and that was exactly 
 what Eve desired. 
 
 Watt looked woe-begone. He crept from behind the 
 tree. His impudence and merriment had deserted hi in. 
 Tears came into his eyes as he spoke.
 
 /A A MINE 285 
 
 ' Are they all gone ? ' he asked, looking cautiously 
 about. 
 
 ' Whom do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' The police.' 
 
 ' Yes, they have left Morwell. I do not know whither. 
 Whether they are searching for your brother or have given 
 up the search I cannot say. What keeps you here? ' 
 
 ' Miss Eve ! poor Martin is not far off. It would not 
 do for him to run far. He is in hiding at no great dis- 
 tance, and — he has nothing to eat.' 
 
 ' Where is he ? What can I do ? ' asked Eve, fright- 
 ened. 
 
 ' He is in an old mine. He will not be discovered 
 there. Even if the constables found the entrance, which 
 is improbable, they would not take him, for he would 
 retreat into one of the side passages and escape by an air- 
 hole in another part of the wood.' 
 
 ' I will try what I can do. I dare say I might smuggle 
 some food away from the house and put it behind the 
 hedge, whence you could fetch it.' 
 
 1 That is not enough. He must get away.' 
 
 ' There is Jasper's horse still with us. I will asi 
 Jasper, and you can have that.' 
 
 1 No,' answered the boy, ' that will not do. We must 
 not take the road this time. We must try the water.' 
 
 ' We have a boat,' said Eve, ' but papa would never 
 allow it to be used.' 
 
 ' Your papa will know nothing about it, nor the pru- 
 dent Barbara, nor the solemn Jasper. You can get the 
 key and let us have the boat.' 
 
 'I will do what I can, but' — as a sudden thought 
 struck her — ' Martin must let me have my ring again. I 
 want it so much. My father has been asking for it.' 
 
 ' How selfish you arc ! ' exclaimed the boy reproach- 
 fully. ' Thinking of your own little troubles when a vast 
 danger menaces our dear Martin. Come with me. You 
 must see Martin and ask him yourself for that ring. I dare
 
 2S6 EVE 
 
 not speak of it ; ho values that ring above everything. You 
 must plead for it yourself with that pretty mouth and 
 those speaking eyes.' 
 
 1 1 must not ; indeed I must not ! ' 
 
 ' Why not ? You will not be missed. No one will 
 harm you. You should see the poor fellow, to what he is 
 reduced by love for you. Yes, come and see him. lie 
 would never have been here, ho would have been far away 
 in safety, but he had the desire to see you again.' 
 
 ' Indeed, I cannot accompany you.' 
 
 1 Then you must do without the ring.' 
 
 'I want my ring again vastly. My father is ere 
 because I have not got it, and I have promised to show it 
 him. How can I keep my promise unless it be restored to 
 me ? ' 
 
 ' Come, come ! ' said the boy impatiently. ' Whilst you 
 are talking you might have got half-way to his den.' 
 
 'I will only just speak to him,' said Eve, • two words, 
 and then run home.' 
 
 ' To be sure. That will be ample— two words,' sneered 
 the boy, and led the way. 
 
 The old mine adit was below the rocks near the river, 
 and at no great distance from the old landing-place, where 
 Jasper had recently constructed a boathouse. The ground 
 about the entrance was thickly strewn with dead leaves, 
 mixed with greenish shale thrown out of the copper mine, 
 and so poisonous that no grass had been able to grow over 
 it, though the mine had probably not been worked for a 
 century or even more. But the mouth of the adit wa ; 
 now completely overgrown with brambles and fringed with 
 ferns. The dogwood, now in flower, had thickly clam- 
 bered near the entrance wherever the earth was not 
 impregnated with copper and arsenic. 
 
 Eve shrank from the black entrance and hung back, 
 but the boy caught her by the arm and insisted on her 
 coming with him. She surmounted some broken masses 
 of rock that had fallen before the entrance, and brushed
 
 IN A MINE 287 
 
 aside the dogwood and briars. The air struck chill and 
 damp against her brow as she passed out of the sun under 
 che stony arch. 
 
 The rock was lichened. White-green fungoid growths 
 hung down in streamers ; the floor was dry, though water 
 dripped from the sides and nourished beds of velvet moss 
 as far in as the light penetrated. So much rubble covered 
 the bottom of the adit, that the water filtered through it 
 and passed by a subterranean channel to the river. 
 
 After taking a few steps forward, Eve saw Martin half 
 sitting, half lying on a bed of fern and heather ; the grey 
 light from the entrance fell on his face. It was pale and 
 drawn ; but he brightened up when he saw Eve, and he 
 started to his knee to salute her. 
 
 ' I cannot stand upright in this cursed hole,' he said, 
 ' but at this moment it matters not. On my knee I do 
 homage to my queen.' He seized her hand and pressed 
 his lips to it. 
 
 ' Here you see mo,' he said, ' doomed to shiver in this 
 pit, catching my death of rheumatism.' 
 
 ' You will surely soon get away,' said Eve. ' I am 
 very sorry for you. I must go home, I may not stay.' 
 
 ' What ! leave me now that you have appeared as a 
 sunbeam, shining into this abyss to glorify it ! Oh, no — 
 stay a few minutes, and then I shall remain and dream of 
 the time you were here. Look at my companions.' He 
 pointed to the roof, where curious lumps like compacted 
 cobwebs hung down. ' These arc bats, asleep during the 
 day. When night falls they will begin to stir and shake 
 their wings, and scream, and fly out. Shall I have to 
 sleep in this den, with the hideous creatures crying and 
 Happing about my head ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, that will be dreadful 1 Bat surely you will leave 
 this when night comes on ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, if you will help me to get away.' 
 
 1 1 will furnish you with the key to the boathouse. I 
 will hide it somewhere, and then your brother can find it.'
 
 288 EVE 
 
 ' That will not satisfy me. You must bring the key 
 here.' 
 
 1 Why ? I cannot do that.' 
 
 ' Indeed you must ; I cannot live without another 
 glimpse of your sweet face. Peter was released by an 
 angel. It shall bo the same with Martin.' 
 
 ' I will bring you the key,' said Eve nervously, ' if you 
 will give me back my ring.' 
 
 1 Your ring ! ' exclaimed Martin ; ' never ! Go — call 
 the myrmidons of justice and deliver me into their 
 hands.' 
 
 ' I would not do that for the world,' said Eve with 
 tears in her eyes ; ' I will do everything that I can to help 
 you. Indeed, last night, I got into dreadful trouble by dress- 
 ing up and playing my tambourine and dancing to attract 
 the attention of the men, whilst you were escaping from 
 the corn -chamber. Papa was very angry and excited, and 
 Barbara was simply — dreadful. I have been scolded and 
 made most unhappy. Do, in pity, give me up the ring. 
 My papa has asked for it. You have already got me into 
 another trouble, because I had not the ring. I was obliged 
 to promise to marry Doctor Coyshe just to pacify papa, he 
 was so excited about the ring.' 
 
 ' What ! engaged yourself to another ? ' 
 
 ' I was forced into it, to-day, I tell you — because I had 
 not got the ring. Give it me. I want to get out of my 
 engagement, and I cannot without that.' 
 
 ' And I — it is not enough that I should be hunted as 
 a hare — my heart must bo broken ! Walter ! where aro 
 you ? Come here and listen to me. Never trust a woman. 
 Curse the whole sex for its falseness and its selfishness. 
 There is no constancy in this world.' And he sighed and 
 looked reproachfully at Eve. ' After all I have endured 
 and suffered — for you.' 
 
 Eve's tears flowed. Martin's attitude, tone of voice, 
 were pathetic and moved her. ' I am very sorry,' she 
 Eaid, ' but — I never gave you the ring. You snatched it
 
 IA A MINE 289 
 
 troin me. You are unknown to me, I am nothing to you, 
 and you are— you are ' 
 
 1 Yes, speak out the bitter truth. I am a thief, a run- 
 away convict, a murderer. Use every offensive epithet 
 that occurs in your vocabulary. Give a dog a bad name 
 and hang him. I ought to have known the sex better 
 than to have trusted you. But I loved, I was blinded by 
 passion. I saw an angel face, and blue eyes that pro* 
 mised a heaven of tenderness and truth. I saw, I loved, 
 I trusted — and here I am, a poor castaway ship, lying 
 ready to be broken up and plundered by wreckers. the 
 cruel, faithless sex ! We men, with our royal trust, our 
 splendid self-sacrifice, become a ready prey ; and when Ave 
 are down, the laughing heartless tyrants dance over us. 
 When the lion was sick the ass came and kicked him. It 
 was the last indignity the royal beast could endure, he 
 laid his head between his paws and his heart brake. Leave 
 me — leave me to die.' 
 
 ' Martin ! ' said Eve, quite overcome by his great- 
 ness, and the vastness of his devotion, ' I have never hurl 
 you, never offended you. You are like my papa, and have 
 fancies.' 
 
 ' I have fancies. Yes, you are right, terribly right. I 
 have had my fancies. I have lived in a delusion. I be- 
 lieved in the honesty of those eyes. I trusted your word ' 
 
 ' I never gave you a word.' 
 
 ' Do not interrupt me. I did suppose that your heart 
 had surrendered to me. The delusion is over. The heart 
 belongs to a vulgar village apothecary. That heart which 
 I so treasured — ' his voice shook and broke, and Eve 
 sobbed. ' Who brought the police upon me ? ' he went on. 
 ' It was you, whom 1 loved and trusted, you who possess 
 w\\ innocent face and a heart full of guile. And hero I lie, 
 your victim, in a living grave your cruel hands have 
 scooped out for me in the rock.' 
 
 ' — indeed, this mine wa3 dug hundreds of years ago.' 
 
 i 1 3 turned a reproachful look at her, ' Why do you 
 
 u
 
 ?oo EVE 
 
 interrupt me ? I speak metaphorically. You brought mo 
 to this, and if you have a spark of good feeling in your 
 breast you will get me away from here.' 
 
 ' I will bring you the key as soon as the sun sets.' 
 
 ' That is right. I accept the token of penitence with 
 gladness, and hope for day in the heart where the light 
 dawns.' 
 
 ' I must go — I really must go,' she said. 
 
 He bowed grandly to her, with his hand on his heart. 
 
 ' Come,' said Watt. ' I will help you over these rub- 
 bish heaps. You have had your two words.' 
 
 ' stay ! ' exclaimed Eve, ' my ring ! I came for that 
 and I have not got it. I must indeed, indeed have it.' 
 
 'Eve,' said Martin, 'I have been disappointed, and 
 have spoken sharply of the sex. But I am not the man 
 to harbour mistrust. Deceived I have been, and perhaps 
 am now laying myself open to fresh disappointment. I 
 cannot say. I cannot go against my nature, which is 
 frank and trustful. There — take your ring. Come back 
 to me this evening with it and the key, and prove to 
 me that all women are not false, that all confidence placed 
 in them is not misplaced.' 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 TUCKERS. 
 
 Barbara fat in the little oak parlour, a pretty room that 
 opened out of the hall ; indeed it had originally been a 
 portion of the hall, which was constructed like a letter 
 L. The hall extended to the roof, but the branch at right 
 angles was not half the height. It was ceiled about ten 
 feet from the floor, and instead of being, like the hull, 
 paved with slate, had oak boards. The window looked 
 into the garden. Zvlr. Jordan's father had knocked away 
 the granite mullions, and put in a sash-window, cut of
 
 TUCKERS 291 
 
 keeping with the room and house, but agreeable to the 
 taste of the period, and admitting more light. A panelled 
 division cut the room off from the hall. Barbara and Eve 
 could not agree about the adornment of this apartment. 
 On the walls were a couple of oil paintings, and Barbara 
 supplemented them with framed and glazed mezzotints. 
 She could not be made by her sister to see the incon- 
 gruity of engravings and oil paintings hanging side by 
 side on dark oak panels. On the chimney-piece was a 
 French ormolu clock, which was Eve's detestation. It 
 was badly designed and unsuitable for the room. So was 
 the banner-screen of a poodle resting on a red cushion ; 
 so were the bugle mats on the table ; so were the antima- 
 cassars on all the arm-chairs and over the back of the 
 sofa ; so were some drawing-room chairs purchased by 
 Barbara, with curved legs, and rails that were falling out 
 periodically. Barbara thought these chairs handsome, 
 Eve detestable. The chimney-piece ornaments, the vases 
 of pale green glass illuminated with flowers, were also 
 objects of aversion to one sister and admiration to the 
 other. Eve at one time refased to make posies for the 
 vases hi the parlour, and was always protesting against 
 some neAV introduction by her sister, which violated the 
 principles of taste. 
 
 ' I don't like to live in a dingy old hall like this,' Eve 
 would say ; ' but I like a place to be fitted up in keeping 
 with its character.' 
 
 Barbara was now seated in this debatable ground. Eve 
 was out somewhere, and she was alone and engaged with 
 her needle. Her father, in the next room, was dozing. 
 Then to the open window camo Jasper, leaned his anus 
 on the sill — the sash was up— and looked in at Barbara. 
 
 ' Hard at work as usual ? ' he said. 
 
 She smiled and nodded, and looked at him, holding 
 her needle up, with a long white thread in it. 
 
 ' On what engaged I dare not ask,' said Jasper. 
 
 1 You may know,' she said, laughing. ' Sewing iu
 
 292 EVE 
 
 tuckers. I always sew tuckers on Saturdays, both for 
 myself and for Eve.' 
 
 4 And, pray, what are tuckers ? ' 
 
 ' Tuckers ' — she hesitated to find a suitable description, 
 1 tuckers are — well, tuckers.' She took a neck of a dress 
 which she had finished and put it round her throat. ' Now 
 you see. Now you understand. Tuckers are the garnish- 
 ing, like parsley to a dish.' 
 
 ' And compliments to speech. So you do Eve's as well 
 as your own.' 
 
 ' dear, yes ; Eve cannot be trusted. She would for- 
 get all about them and wear dirty tuckers.' 
 
 ' But she worked hard enough burnishing the brass 
 necklace.' 
 
 ' yes, that shone ! tuckers are simply — clean.' 
 
 ' My Lady Eve should have a lady's-maid.' 
 
 ' Not whilst I am with her. I do all that is needful 
 for her. When she marries she must have one, as she is 
 helpless.' 
 
 ' You think Eve will marry ? ' 
 
 ' yes ! It is all settled. She has consented.' 
 
 He was a little surprised. This had come about very 
 suddenly, and Eve was young. 
 
 ' I am glad you are here,' said Barbara, ' only you have 
 taken an unfair advantage of me.' 
 
 • I — Barbara?' 
 
 ' Yes, Jasper, you.' She looked up into his face with 
 a heightened colour. He had never called her by her 
 plain Christian name before, nor had she thus addressed 
 him, but their hearts understood each other, and a formal 
 title would have been an affectation on either side. 
 
 ' I will tell you why,' said the girl ; ' so do not put on 
 such a puzzled expression. I want to speak to you 
 seriously about a matter that— that— well, Jasper, that 
 makes me wish you had your face in the light and mine in 
 the shade. Where you stand the glare of the sky is behind 
 you, and you can sco every change in my face, and that
 
 TUCKERS 293 
 
 unnerves me. Either you shall come in here, take my 
 place at the tuckers, and let me talk to you through the 
 window, or else I shall move my chair close to the window, 
 and sit with my back to it, and we can talk without watch- 
 ing each other's face.' 
 
 ' Do that, Barbara. I cannot venture on the tuckers.' 
 
 So, laughing nervously, and with her colour changing 
 in her checks, and her lips twitching, she drew her chair 
 close to the window, and seated herself, not exactly with 
 her back to it, but sideways, and turned her face from it. 
 
 The ground outside was higher than the floor of the 
 parlour, so that Jasper stood above her, and looked down 
 somewhat, not much, on her head, her dark hair so neat 
 and glossy, and smoothly parted. He stooped to the 
 mignonette bed and gathered some of the fragrant delicate 
 little trusses of colourless flowers, and with a slight apology 
 thrust two or three among her dark hair. 
 
 ' Putting in tuckers,' he said. ' Garnishing the sweetest 
 of heads with the plant that to my mind best symbolises 
 Barbara,' 
 
 'Don't,' she exclaimed, shaking her head, but not 
 shaking the sprigs out of her hair. ' You are taking un- 
 warrantable liberties, Mr. Jasper.' 
 
 'I will take no more.' He folded his arms on the sill. 
 She did not see, but she felt, the flood of love that poured 
 over her bowed head from his eyes. She worked very hard 
 fastening off a thread at the end of a tucker. 
 
 'I also,' said Jasper, 'have been desirous of a word 
 with you, Barbara.' 
 
 She turned, looked up in his face, then bent her head 
 again over her work. The flies, among them a great blue- 
 bottle, were humming in the window ; the latter bounced 
 against the glass, and was too stupid to come down and go 
 out at the open sash. 
 
 1 We understand each other,' said Jasper, in alow voice, 
 as pleasant and soft as the murmur of the flies. 'There 
 are songs without words, and there is speech without
 
 294 EVE 
 
 voice : what I have thought and felt yon know, though T 
 havo not told you anything, and I think I know also what 
 
 yon thin!: and feel. Now, however, it ig as well that, we 
 should com to plain words.' 
 
 •Yea, Jasper, T think so as well, that is why T have 
 
 come over here with in.}' tuckers.' 
 
 '"We know each other'? heart,' he said, stooping in over 
 her head and the garnishing of mignonette, and speaking 
 as low as a whisper, not really in a whisper hut in his 
 natural warm, rich voice. ' There is this, dear Barbara, 
 about me. My name, my family, are dishonoured by the 
 thoughtless, wrongful act of my poor brother. I dare not 
 ask you to share that name with me, not only on this 
 ground, hut also because I am absolutely penniless. A 
 great wrong has been done to your father and sister by us, 
 and it does not become me to ask the greatest and richest 
 of gifts from your family. Hereafter I may inherit my 
 father's mill at Buckfastleigh. "When I do I will, as I 
 have undertaken, fully repay the debt to your sister, hut 
 till I can do that I may not ask for more. You are, and 
 must be, to me a far-off, unapproachable star, to whom 
 I look up, whom I shall ever love and stretch my hands 
 towards.' 
 
 ' I am not a star at all,' said Barbara, ' and as for being 
 far off and unapproachable, you are talking nonsense, and 
 you do not mean it or you would not have stuck bits of 
 mignonette in my hair. I do not understand rhodomon- 
 tade.' 
 
 Jasper laughed. He liked her downright, plain way. 
 * I am quoting a thought from " Breciosa," ' he said. 
 
 'I know nothing of "Breciosa," save that it is some- 
 thing Eve strums.' 
 
 ' Well — divest what I have said of all exaggeration of 
 simile, you understand what I mean.' 
 
 ' And I want you to understand my position exactly, 
 Jasper,' she said. ' I also am penniless. The money my 
 aunt left me I have made over to Eve because she could
 
 TUCKERS 295 
 
 not marry Sir. Coyshe without something present, as well 
 as a prospect of something to come.' 
 
 ' What ! sewn your poor little legacy in as a tucker tc 
 her wedding gown ? ' 
 
 'Mr. Coyshe wants to go to London, he is lost hero ; 
 and Eve would be happy in a great city, she mopes in the 
 country. So I have consented to this arrangement. I do 
 not want the money as I live here with my father, and it 
 is a real necessity for Eve and Mr. Coyshe. You see — I 
 could not do other.' 
 
 ' And when your father dies, Monvell also passes to 
 Eve. What is left for you ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I shall do very well. Mr. Coyshe and Eve would 
 never endure to live here. By the time dear papa is called 
 away Mr. Coyshe will have made himself a name, he a 
 physician, and rolling in money. Perhaps he and Eve 
 may like to run here for their short holiday and breathe 
 our pure air, hut otherwise they will not occupy the place, 
 and I thought I might live on here and manage for them. 
 Then ' — she turned her cheek and Jasper saw a glitter on 
 the long dark lash, hut at the same time the dimple of a 
 smile on her cheek — ' then, dear friend ' — she put up her 
 hand on the sill, and he caught it — ' then, dear friend, 
 perhaps you will not mind helping me. Then probably your 
 little trouble will be over.' She was silent, thinking, and 
 he saw the dimple go out of her smooth cheek, and the 
 sparkling drop fall from the lash on that cheek. ' All is 
 in God's hand,' she said. ' We do wrong to look forward ; 
 I shall be happy to leave it so, and wait and trust.' 
 
 Then he put the other hand which did not clasp hers 
 under her chin, and tried to raise her face, hut he could 
 only reach her brow with his lips and kiss it. He said not 
 one word. 
 
 ' You do not answer,' she said. 
 
 1 1 cannot,' he replied. 
 
 Then the door was thrown open and Eve entered, 
 Gushed, and holding up her finger.
 
 296 EVE 
 
 ' Look, Bab ! — look, clear ! I liavc my ring again. Now 
 I can shake off that doctor.' 
 
 • Eve ! ' gasped Barbara ; ' the ring ! where did yon 
 get it ? ' She turned sharply to Jasper. ' She has seen 
 him — your brother Martin — again.' 
 
 Eve was, for a moment, confused, but only for a mo- 
 ment. She recovered herself and said merrily, ' "Why, 
 Barbie dear, however did you get that crown of mignonette 
 in your hair ? You never stuck it there yourself. You 
 would not dream of such a thing ; besides, your arm is not 
 long enough to reach the flower-bed. Jasper ! confess you 
 have been doing this.' She clasped her hands and danced. 
 1 what fun ! ' she exclaimed : ' but really it is a shame 
 of me interfering when Barbara is so busy with the 
 tuckers, and Jasper in garnishing Barbara's head.' Then 
 she bounded out of the room, leaving her sister in con- 
 fusion. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 DUCK AND GREEN PEAS. 
 
 Eve might evade an explanation by turning the defence 
 into an attack when first surprised, but she was unable to 
 resist a determined onslaught, and when Barbara followed 
 her and parried all her feints, and brought her to close 
 quarters, Eve was driven to admit that she had seen 
 Martin, who was in concealment in the wood, and that sho 
 had undertaken to furnish him with food and the boat- 
 house key. Jasper was taken into consultation, and 
 promised to seek his brother and provide for him what was 
 necessary, but neither he nor Barbara could induce her to 
 remain at home and not revisit the fugitive. 
 
 • I know that Jasper will not find the place without 
 me,' she said. ' Watt only discovered it by his prowling 
 about as a weasel. I must go with Mr. Jasper, but I 
 promise you, Barbie, it shall be for the last time.' There
 
 DUCK AND GREEN PEAS 297 
 
 was reason in her argument, and Barbara was forced to 
 acquiesce. 
 
 Accordingly in the evening, not before, the two set out 
 for the mine, Eve carrying some provisions in a basket. 
 Jasper was much annoyed that his brother was still in the 
 neighbourhood, and still causing trouble to the sisters at 
 Morwell. 
 
 Eve had shown her father the ring. The old man was 
 satisfied ; he took it, looked hard at it, slipped it on his 
 little finger, and would not surrender it again. Eve must 
 explain this to Martin if he redemanded the ring, which 
 he was like enough to do". 
 
 Neither she nor Jasper spoke much to each other on 
 the way ; he had his thoughts occupied, and she was not 
 easy in her mind. As they approached the part of the 
 wood where the mine shaft was, she began to sing the song 
 in 'Don Giovanni,' La ci clarem, as a signal to "Watt that 
 friends drew nigh through the bushes. On entering the 
 adit they found Martin in an ill humour. He had been 
 without food for many hours, and was moreover suffering 
 from an attack of rheumatism. 
 
 1 1 said as much this morning, Eve,' he growled. ' I 
 knew this hateful hole would make me ill, and here I am 
 in agonies. Oh, it is of no use your bringing me the 
 key of the boat ; I can't go on the water with knives 
 running into my back - , and, what is more, I can't stick in 
 this hateful burrow. How many hours on the water 
 down to Plymouth ? I can't even think of it ; I should 
 have rheumatic fever. I'd rather be back in jail — there 
 I suppose they would give me hot-bottles and blankets. 
 And this, too, when I had prepared such a treat for Eve. 
 Curse it ! I'm always thinking of others, and getting into 
 pickles myself accordingly.' 
 
 1 Why, pray, what were you scheming to do for Miss 
 Eve ? ' asked Jasper. 
 
 '0, the company I was with for a bit is at Plymouth, 
 Bud are performing Weber's new piece, " Preciosa," and I
 
 29S EVE 
 
 thought I'd like to show it to her— and then the manager, 
 Justice Barret, knows about her mother. When I told 
 him of my escape, and leaving yon at Monvell, he said 
 that he had left one of his company there named Eve. I 
 thought it would he a pleasure to the young lady fo mi 1 I 
 him, and hear what he had to tell of her mother.' 
 
 ' And you intended to carry Eve off with ycu ? ' 
 
 ' I intended to persuade her to accompany me. Per- 
 haps she will do so still, when I am better.' 
 
 Jasper was angry, and spoke sharply to his brother. 
 Martin turned on his bed of fern and heathi r, and groan- 
 ing, put his hands over his cars. 
 
 ' Come.' said he. 'Watt, give me food. I can't stand 
 scolding on an empty stomach, and with aches in my 
 bones.' 
 
 lie was impervious to argument ; remonstrance he 
 resented. Jasper took the basket from Eve, and gave him 
 what he required. He groaned and cried out as Watt 
 raised him in his arms. Martin looked at Eve, appealing 
 for sympathy. He was a martyr, a guiltless sufferer, and 
 not spared even by his brother. 
 
 'I think, Martin,' said Jasper, ' that if you were well 
 wrapped in blankets you might still go in the boat.' 
 
 'You seem vastly eager to be rid of me,' answered 
 Martin peevishly, ' but, I tell you, I will not go. I'm not 
 going to jeopardise my life on the river in the fogs and 
 heavy dews to relieve you from anxiety. How utterly and 
 unreasonably selfish you are ! If there he one vice which 
 is despicable, it is selfishness. I repeat, I won't go. and I 
 won't stay in this hole. You must find some safe and 
 warm place in which to slow me. I throw all responsi- 
 bilities on you. I wish I had never escaped from jail — I 
 have been sinking ever since I left it. There I had a dry 
 cell and food. From that I went to the corn-chamber at 
 Monvell, which was dry — hut, faugh ! how it stank of 
 onions! Now I have this damp dungeon that smells of 
 mould. Watt and you got me out of prison, and got me
 
 DUCK AND GREEN PEAS 290 
 
 away from the warders and constables, so you must pro- 
 vide for me now. I have nothing more to do with it. If 
 you take a responsibility on yon, my doctrine is, go through 
 with it ; don't take it up and drop it half finished. What 
 news of that fellow T shot ? Is he dead ? ' 
 
 'No — wounded, hut not dangerously.' 
 
 'There, then, why should I fear? I was comfortable 
 in jail. I had my meals regularly there, and was not 
 subjected to damp. I trust my country would have cared 
 for me better than my brothers, who give mc at one time 
 onions for a pillow, and at another heather for a bed.' 
 
 ' My dear Martin,' said Jasper, ' I think if you try you 
 can walk up the road ; there is a woodman's hut among 
 the trees near the Raven Rock, but concealed in the 
 coppice. It is warm and dry, and no one will visit it 
 whilst the leaves are on the trees. The workmen keep 
 their tools there, and their dinners, when shredding in 
 winter or rending in spring. You will be as safe there as 
 here, and so much nearer Morwell that we shall be able 
 easily to furnish you with necessaries till vou are better, 
 and can escape to Plymouth.' 
 
 ' I'm not sure that it is wise for me to try to get to 
 Plymouth. The police will be on the look-out for me 
 there, and they wiil not dream that I have stuck here — 
 this is the last place where they would suppose I stayed. 
 Besides, I have no money. No ; I will wait till the company 
 move away from the county, and I will rejoin it at Bridge- 
 water, or Taunton, or Dorchester. Justice Barret is a 
 worthy fellow ; a travelling company can't always com- 
 mand such abilities as mine, so the accommodation is 
 mutual.' 
 
 Martin was assisted out of the mine. He groaned, 
 cried out, and made many signs of distress ; he really was 
 Buffering, but he made the most of his suffering. Jasper 
 stood on one side of him. He would not hear of Walter 
 sustaining him on the other side ; he must have Eve as 
 his support, and he could only support himself on her by
 
 300 E VE 
 
 putting his arm over her shoulders. No objections raised 
 by Jasper were of avail. Watt was not tall enough. 
 Watt's steps were irregular. Watt was required to go on 
 ahead and see that no one was in the way. Martin was 
 certainly a very handsome man. He wore a broad- 
 brimmed hat, and fair long hair ; his eyes were dark and 
 large, his features regular, his complexion pale and in- 
 teresting. Seeing that Jasper looked at his hair with 
 surprise, he laughed, and leaning his head towards him 
 whispered, ' Those rascals at Prince's Town cropped me 
 like a Puritan. I wear a theatrical wig before the sex, till 
 my hair grows again.' 
 
 Then leaning heavily on Eve, he bent his head to her 
 ear, and made a complimentary remark which brought the 
 colour into her cheek. 
 
 ' Jasper,' said he, turning his head again to his 
 brother, 'mind this, I cannot put up with cyder; I am 
 racked with rheumatism, and I must have generous drink. 
 I suppose your father's cellar is well stocked ? ' He ad- 
 dressed Eve. 'You will see that the poor invalid is not 
 starved, and has not his vitals wrung with vinegar. I 
 have seen ducks about Morwell ; what do you say to duck 
 with onion stuffing for dinner to-morrow — and tawny port, 
 eh ? I'll let you both into another confidence. I am not 
 going to lie on bracken. By hook or by crook you must 
 contrive to bring me out a feather bed. If I've not one, 
 and a bolster and pillow and blankets— by George and the 
 dragon ! I'll give myself up to the beaks.' 
 
 Then he moaned, and squeezed Eve's shoulder. 
 
 'Green peas,' he said when the paroxysm was over- 
 'Duck and green peas; I shall dine off that to-morrow 
 — and tell the cook not to forget the mint. Also some carrot 
 sliced, boiled, then fried in Devonshire cream, with a little 
 shallot cut very fine and toasted, sprinkled on top. ' Sweet- 
 heart,' aside to Eve into her ear, 'you shall come and have 
 a snack with me. Remember, it is an invitation. We 
 will not have old solemn face with us as a mar-fun, shall 
 we?'
 
 DUCK AND GREEN PEAS 301 
 
 The woodman's but when reached after a slow ascent 
 was found to be small, warm, and in good condition. It 
 was so low that a man could not stand upright in it, but 
 it was sufficiently long to allow him to lie his length 
 therein. The sides were of wattled oak branches, com- 
 pacted with heather and moss, and the roof was of turf. 
 The floor was dry, deep bedded in fern. 
 
 'It is a dog's kennel,' said the dissatisfied Martin ; 'or 
 rather it is not so good as that. It is the sort of place made 
 for swans and geese and ducks beside a pond, for shelter 
 when they lay their eggs. It really is humiliating that I 
 should have to bury my head in a sort of water-fowl's sty.' 
 Eve promised that Martin should have whatever he 
 desired. Jasper had, naturally, a delicacy in offering any- 
 thing beyond his own services, though he knew he could 
 rely on Barbara. 
 
 When they had seen the exhausted and anguished 
 martyr gracefully reposing on the bracken bed, to rest 
 after his painful walk, and had already left, they were re- 
 called by his voice shouting to Jasper, regardless of every 
 consideration that should have kept him quiet, 'Don't be 
 a fool, Jasper, and shake the bottle. If you break the 
 crust I won't drink it.' And again the call came, 'Mind 
 the green peas.' 
 
 As Jasper and Eve walked back to Morwell neither 
 spoke much, but on reaching the last gate, Eve said — 
 
 '0, dear Mr. Jasper, do help me to persuade Barbie to 
 let me go! I have made up my mind ; I must and will 
 see the play and hear all that the manager can tell me 
 about my mother.' 
 
 'I will go to Plymouth, Miss Eve. I must see this 
 Mr. Justice Barret, and I will learn every particular for you.' 
 
 'That is not enough. I want to see a play. I have 
 never been to a theatre in all my life.' 
 
 'I will see what your sister says.' 
 
 ' I am obstinate. I shall go, whether she says yea 
 or no.'
 
 302 EVE 
 
 1 To-morrow is Sunday,' said Jasper, ' when no theatre 
 is open.' 
 
 'Besides,' added Eve, 'there is poor Martin's duck and 
 green peas to-morrow.' 
 
 'And crusted port. It* we go, it must be Monday.' 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 'PRECIOSA.' 
 
 Eve had lost something of her light-heartcdness; in 
 spite of herself she was made to think, and grave alterna- 
 tives were forced upon her for decision. The careless girl 
 was dragged in opposite directions by two men, equally 
 selfish and conceited, the one prosaic and clever, the other 
 assthetic but ungifted ; each actuated by the coarsest self- 
 seeking, neither regarding the happiness of the child. 
 Martin had a passionate fancy for her, and had formed 
 some fantastic scheme of turning her into a singer and 
 an actress ; and Mr. Coyshe thought of pushing his way 
 in town by the aid of her money. 
 
 Eve was without any strength of character, but she 
 had obstinacy, and where her pleasure was concerned she 
 could be very obstinate. Hitherto she had not been re- 
 quired to act with independence. She had submitted in 
 most things to the will of her father and sister, but then 
 their will had been to give her pleasure and save her an- 
 noyance. She had learned always to get her own way by 
 an exhibition of peevishness if crossed. 
 
 Now she had completely set her heart on going to 
 Plymouth. She was desirous to know something about 
 her mother, as her father might not be questioned con 
 cerning her ; and she burned with eagerness to see a play, 
 It would be hard to say which motive predominated. Ons 
 alone might have been beaten down by Barbara's opposi- 
 tion, but two pli it< cl jn ancj out together made so tough g
 
 « PRECiOSA ' 303 
 
 string that it could not be broken. Barbara did what she 
 could, but her utmost was unavailing. Eve had sufficient 
 shrewdness to insist on her desire to see and converse with 
 a friend of her mother, and to say as little as possible 
 about her other motive. Barbara could appreciate one, 
 she would see no force hi the other. 
 
 Eve carried her point. Barbara consented to her 
 going under the escort of Jasper. They were to ride to 
 Beer Ferris and thence take boat. They were not to stay 
 in Plymouth, but return the same way. The tide was 
 favourable ; they would probably be home by three o'clock 
 in the morning, and Barbara would sit up for them. It 
 was important that Mr. Jordan should know nothing of 
 the expedition, which would greatly excite him. As for 
 Martin, she would provide for him, though she could not 
 undertake to find him duck and green peas and crusted 
 port every day. 
 
 One further arrangement was made. Eve was en- 
 gaged to Mr, Coyshe, therefore the young doctor was to be 
 invited to join Eve and Jasper at Beer Alston, and accom- 
 pany her to Plymouth. A note was despatched to him to 
 prepare him, and to ask him to have a boat in readiness, 
 and to allow of the horses being put in his stables. 
 
 Thus, everything was settled, if not absolutely in ac- 
 cordance with Eve's wishes— she objected to the company 
 of the doctor — yet sufficiently so to make her happy. Her 
 happiness became greater as the time approached for her 
 departure, and when she left she was in as joyful a mood 
 as any in which Barbara had ever seen her. 
 
 Everything went well. The weather was fine, and tlie 
 air and landscape pleasant ; not that Eve regarded either 
 as she rode to Beer Alston. There the tiresome surgeon 
 joined her and Jasper, and insisted on giving them re- 
 freshments. Eve was impatient to be on her way again, 
 and was hardly civil in her refusal ; but the harness of 
 self-conceit was too dense over the doctor's breast for him 
 to receive a wound from her liaht words.
 
 304 EVE 
 
 In due course Plymouth was reached, and, as there 
 was time to spare, Eve, by her sister's directions, went to 
 a convent, where 'were some nuns of their acquaintance, 
 and stayed there till fetched by the two young men to go 
 with them to the theatre. Jasper had written before and 
 secured tickets. 
 
 At last Eve sat in a theatre — the ambition, the dream 
 of her youth was gratified. She occupied a stall between 
 Jasper and Mr. Coyshe, a place that commanded the house, 
 but was also conspicuous. 
 
 Eve sat looking speechlessly about her, lost in astonish- 
 ment at tbo novelty of all that surrounded her; the decora- 
 tions of white and gold, the crimson curtains, the chande- 
 lier of glittering glass-drops, the crowd of well-dressed 
 ladies, the tuning of the instruments of the orchestra, the 
 glare of light, were to her an experience so novel that she 
 felt she would have been content to come all the way for 
 that alone. That she herself was an object of notice, 
 that opera-glasses were turned upon her, never occurred to 
 her. Fond as she was of admiration, she was too engrossed 
 in admiring to think that she was admired. 
 
 A hush. The conductor had taken his place and raised 
 his wand. Eve was startled by the sadden lull, and the 
 lowering of the lights. 
 
 Then the wand fell, and the overture began. ' Pre- 
 ciosa ' had been performed in London the previous season 
 for the first time, and now, out of season, it was taken to 
 the provinces. The house was very full. A military 
 orchestra played. 
 
 Eve knew the overture arranged for the piano, fur Ja - 
 per had introduced her to it; she had admired it; but 
 what was a piano arrangement to a full orchestra? Her 
 eye sparkled, a brilliant colour rushed into her cheek. 
 This was something more beautiful than she could have 
 conceived. The girl's soul was full of musical apprecia- 
 tion, and she had been kept for seventeen years away from 
 the proper clement in which she could live,
 
 • PRECIOSA ' 305 
 
 Then the curtain rose, and disclosed the garden of Don 
 Carcarno at Madrid. Eve could hardly repress an excla- 
 mation of astonishment. She saw a terrace with marble 
 statues, and a fountain of water playing, the crystal drops 
 sparkling as they fell. Umbrageous trees on both sides 
 threw their foliage overhead and met, forming a succession 
 of bowery arches. Ptoses and oleanders bloomed at the 
 sides. Beyond the terrace extended a distant landscape of 
 rolling woodland and corn fields threaded by a blue wind-- 
 ing river. Far away in the remote distance rose a range 
 of snow-clad mountains. 
 
 Eve held up her hands, drew a long breath and sighed, 
 not out of sadness, but out of ecstasy of delight. 
 
 Don Fernando de Azevedo, in black velvet and lace, 
 was taking leave of Don Carcamo, and informing him that 
 he would have left Madrid some days ago had he not been 
 induced to stay and see Preciosa, the gipsy girl about 
 lvhoin the town waa talking. Then entered Alonzo, the 
 Bon of Don Carcamo, enthusiastic over the beauty, talent, 
 and virtue of the maiden. 
 
 Eve listened with eager eyes and ears, she lost not a 
 word, she missed not a motion. Everything she saw was 
 real to her. This was true Spain, yonder was the Sierra 
 Nevada. For aught she considered, these were true hidal- 
 goes. She forgot she was in a theatre, she forgot every- 
 thing, her own existence, in her absorption. Only one 
 thought obtruded itself on her connecting the real with the 
 fictitious. Martin ought to have stood there as Alonzo, in 
 that becoming costume. 
 
 Then the orchestra played softly, sweetly— she knew 
 the air, drew another deep inspiration, her flush deepened. 
 Over the stage swept a crowd of gentlemen and ladies, and 
 a motley throng singing in chorus. Then came in gipsies 
 with tambourines and castanets, and through the midst of 
 them Preciosa in a crimson velvet bodice and saffron skirt, 
 wearing a necklace of gold chains and coins. 
 
 Eve put her hands over her mouth to check the cry of 
 
 x
 
 3 o6 EVE 
 
 astonishment ; the dress — she knew it — it was that she 
 had found in the chest. It was that, or one most similar. 
 
 Eve hardly breathed as Preciosa told the fortunes of 
 Don Carcamo and Don Fernando. She saw the love of 
 Alonzo kindled, and Alonzo she had identified with Martin. 
 She— she herself was Preciosa. Had she not worn that 
 dress, rattled that tambourine, danced the same steps? 
 The curtain fell ; the first act was over, and the hum of 
 voices rose. But Eve heard nothing. Mr. Coyshe en- 
 deavoured to engage her in conversation, but in vain. She 
 was in a trance, lifted above the earth in ecstasy. She was 
 Preciosa, she lived under a Spanish sun. This was her 
 world, this real life. No other world was possible hence- 
 forth, no other life endurable. She had passed out of a 
 condition of surprise ; nothing could surprise her more, 
 she had risen out of a sphere where surprise was possible 
 into one where music, light, colour, marvel were the proper 
 atmosphere. 
 
 The most prodigious marvels occur in dreams and ex- 
 cite no astonishment. Eve had passed into ecstatic dream. 
 
 The curtain rose, and the scene was forest, with rocks, 
 and the full moon shining out of the dark blue sky, silver- 
 ing the trunks of the trees and the mossy stones. A gipsy 
 camp ; the gipsies sang a chorus with echo. The captain 
 smote with hammer on a stone and bade his men prepare 
 for a journey to Valencia. The gipsies dispersed, and then 
 PiLciosa appeared, entering from the far background, with 
 the moonlight falling on her, subduing to low tones her 
 crimson and yellow, holding a guitar in her hands. She 
 seated herself on a rock, and the moonbeams played about 
 lier as sbe sang and accompanied herself on her instrument. 
 
 Lone am I, yet am not lonely, 
 
 For I sec thee, loved and true, 
 Round me flits thy form, thine only, 
 
 Moonlit gliding o'er the dew. 
 
 Wander where I may, or tarry, 
 
 Hangs my heart alone on thee, 
 Ever in my brrast I carry 
 
 Thoughts that burn and torture me.
 
 ' PRECIOSA ' 307 
 
 Unattainable and peerless 
 
 In my heaven a constant star, 
 Heart o'erflowing, eyes all tearless, 
 Gaze I on thee from afar. 
 
 The exquisite melody, the pathos of the scene, the 
 poetry of the words, were more than Eve could hear, and 
 tears rolled down her cheeks. Mr. Coyshe looked round in 
 surprise ; he heard her sob, and asked if she were tired or 
 unwell. No ! she sobbed out of excess of happiness. 
 The combined beauty of scene and song oppressed her 
 heart with pain, the pain of delight greater than the heart 
 could contain, 
 
 Eve saw Alonzo come, disguised as a hunter, having 
 abandoned his father, his rank, his prospects, for love of 
 Preciosa. Was not this like Martin ? — Martin the heroic, 
 the self-sacrificing man who rushed into peril that he might 
 he at her feet — Martin, now laid up with rheumatism for 
 her sake. 
 
 She saw the gipsies assemble, their tents were taken 
 down, bales were collected, all was prepared for departure. 
 Alonzo was taken into the band and fellowship was sworn. 
 
 The moon had set, but see— what is this? A red light 
 smites betwixt the trees and kindles the trunks orange and 
 scarlet, the rocks are also flushed, and simultaneously with 
 a burst, joyous, triumphant, the whole band sing the 
 chorus of salutation to the rising sun. Preciosa is exalted 
 on a litter and is borne on the shoulders of the gipsies. 
 The light brightens, the red blaze pervades, transforms the 
 entire scene, bathes every actor in fire ; the glorious song 
 swells and thrills every heart, and suddenly, when it 
 seemed to Eve that she could bear no more, the curtain 
 fell. She sprang to her feet, unconscious of everything 
 but what she had seen and heard, and the whole house 
 rose with her and roared its applause and craved for more. 
 
 It is unnecessary for us to follow Eve's emotions 
 through the entire drama, and to narrate the plot, to say 
 how that the gipsies arrive at the castle of Don Fernando
 
 3 o8 EVE 
 
 where lie is celebrating his silver wedding, how his son 
 Eugenic, by an impertinence offered to Preciosa, ex- 
 asperates the disguised Alonzo into striking him, and is 
 arrested, how Preciosa intercedes, and how it is discovered 
 that she is the daughter of Don Fernando, stolen seven- 
 teen years before. The reader may possibly know the 
 drama; if he does not, his loss is not much ; it is a drama 
 of little merit and no originality, which would never have 
 lived had not Wehei furnished il with a f< . crap ol in 
 comparably beautiful music. 
 
 The curtain fell, the orchestra departed, the boxes were 
 emptying. All those in the stalls around Eve were in 
 movement. She gave a long sigh and woke out of her 
 dream, looked round at Jasper, then at Mr. Coyshe, and 
 smiled ; her eyes were dazed, she was not fully awake. 
 
 ' Very decent performance,' said the surgeon, ' but we 
 shall see something better in London.' 
 
 ' Well, Eve,' said Jasper, ' are you ready '? I will ask 
 e ov the manager, and then we must be pushing home.' 
 
 1 Home ! ' repeated Eve, and repeated it questioningly. 
 
 1 Yes,' answered Jasper, ' have you forgotten the row 
 up the river and the ride before us ? ' 
 
 She put her hand to her head. 
 
 ' Oh, Jasper,' she said, ' I feel as if I were at home 
 now — here, where I ought always to have been, and was 
 going again into banishment.' 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 NOAH'S AEK. 
 
 Jaspkr left Eve with Mr. Coyshe whilst he went in quest 
 of the manager. He had written to Mr. Justice Barret as 
 soon as it was decided that the visit was to be made, so aa 
 to prepare him for an interview, but there had net been
 
 • PRECIOSA ' 309 
 
 time for a reply. The surgeon was to order a supper at 
 the inn. A few minutes later Jasper came to them. Ho 
 had seen the manager, who was then engaged, but re- 
 quested that they would shortly see him in his rooms at 
 the inn. Time was precious, the little party had a journey 
 before them. They therefore hastily ate their meal, and 
 when Eve was ready, Jasper accompanied her to the apart- 
 ments occupied by the manager. Mr. Coyshe was left over 
 the half-consumed supper, by no m^ans disposed, as it had 
 to be paid for, to allow so much of it to depart uneaten. 
 
 Jasper knocked at the door indicated as that to the 
 rooms occupied by the manager and his family, and on 
 opening it was met by a combination of noises that be- 
 wildered, and of odours that suffocated. 
 
 ' Come in, I am glad to see you,' said a voice ; ' Justice 
 sent word I was to expect and detain you.' 
 
 The manager's wife came forward to receive the visi- 
 tors. 
 
 She was a pretty young woman, with very light frizzled 
 hair, cut short— a head like that of the ' curly-headed' plough- 
 boy.' Eve could hardly believe her eyes, this was the real 
 Preciosa, who on the stage had worn dark flowing hair. 
 The face was good-humoured, simple, but not clean, for 
 the paint and powder had been imperfectly washed off. It 
 adhered at the corners of the eyes and round the nostrils. 
 Also a ring of white powder lingered on her neck and at 
 the roots of her hair on her brow. 
 
 ' Come in,' she said, with a kindly smile that made 
 pleasant dimples in her cheeks, ' but take care where you 
 walk. This is my parrot, a splendid bird, look at his green 
 back and scarlet wing. Awake, old Poll ? ' 
 
 ' Does your mother know you're out ? ' answered the 
 parrot hoarsely, with the hard eyes fixed on Eve. 
 
 The girl turned cold and drew back. 
 
 1 Look at my Tom,' said Mrs. Justice Parrot, ' how he 
 races round his cage.' She pointed to a squirrel tearing 
 inanely up the wires of a revolving drum in which he waa
 
 jio EVE 
 
 confined. ' That is the way in which he greets my return 
 from the theatre. Mind the cradle ! Excuse my dress, I 
 have heen attending to bahy.' She rocked vigorously. 
 ' Slyboots, he knows when I como back without opening 
 his peepers. Sucking your thumb vigorously, are you ? I 
 could eat it — I could eat you, you are sweet as barley- 
 sugar.' The enthusiastic mother dived with both arms 
 into the cradle, brought out the child, and hugged it till it 
 screamed. 
 
 ' What is Jacko about, I wonder,' said the ex-Preciosa; 
 ' do observe him, sitting in the corner as demure as an old 
 woman during a sermon. I'll warrant he's been at more 
 mischief. What do you suppose I have found him out in ? 
 I was knitting a stocking for Justice, and when the time 
 came for me to go to the theatre I put the half-finished 
 stocking with the ball of worsted down in the bed, I mis- 
 trusted Jacko. As I dare not leave him in this room with 
 baby, I locked him into the sleeping apartment. Will you 
 believe me ? he found what I had concealed. He plunged 
 into the bed and discovered the stocking and unravelled 
 the whole ; not only so, but he has left his hair on the 
 sheets, and whatever Justice will say to me and to Jacko I 
 do not know. Never mind, if he is cross I'll survive it. 
 Now Jacko, how often have I told you not to bite off the 
 end of your tail? The poor fellow is out of health, and 
 we must not be hard on him.' 
 
 The monkey blinked his eyes, and rubbed his nose. 
 He knew that his delinquencies were being expatiated 
 on. 
 
 'You have not been all my family yet,' said Mrs. 
 
 J '-arret. ' There is a box of white mice under the bed in tho 
 next room. The darlings arc so tame that they will nestle 
 in my bosom. Do you believe me ? I went once to the 
 theatre, quite forgetting one was there, till I came to dress, 
 I mean undress, and then it tumbled out; I missed my 
 leads that evening, I was distracted lest the mouse should 
 get away. I told the prompter to keep him till I could
 
 NOAH'S ARK 311 
 
 reclaim the rascal. Come in, dears ! Come in ! ' This 
 was shouted, and a boy and girl burst in at the door. 
 
 'My only darlings, these three,' said Mrs. Barret, 
 pointing to the children and the babe. ' They've been 
 having some supper. Did you see them on the stage ? 
 They were gipsies. Be quick and slip out of your clothes, 
 pets, and tumble into bed. Never mind your prayers to- 
 night. I have visitors, and cannot attend to you. Say 
 them twice over to-morrow morning instead. What? 
 Hungry still? Here, Jacko ! surrender that crust, and 
 Polly must give up her lump of sugar ; bite evenly between 
 you.' Then turning to her guests, with her pleasant face 
 all smiles, ' I love animals ! I have been denied a large 
 family, I have only three, but then— I've not been married 
 six years. One must love. What would the world be 
 without love ? We are made to love. Do you agree with 
 me, Jacko, you mischievous little pig ? Now— no biting, 
 Polly ! You snapping also ? ' 
 
 Then, to her visitors, ' Take a chair— that is— take 
 two.' 
 
 To her children, ' What, is this manners ? Your hat, 
 Bill, and your frock, Philadelphia, and heaven knows what 
 other rags of clothes on the only available chairs.' She 
 swept the children's garments upon the floor, and kicked 
 them under the table. 
 
 ' Now then,' to the guests, ' sit down and be comfort- 
 able. Justice will be here directly. Barret don't much 
 like all these animals, but Lord bless your souls ! I can't 
 do without them. My canary died,' she sniffled and wiped 
 nose and eyes on the back of her hand. ' lie got poisoned 
 by the monkey, I suspect, who fed him on scraps of green 
 paper picked off the wall. One must love ! But it comes 
 expensive. They make us pay damages wherever we stay. 
 They charge things to our darlings I swear they never did. 
 The manager is as meek as Moses, and he bears like a 
 miller's ass. Here he comes— I know Ins sweet step. 
 Don't look at me. I'll sit with my back to you, baby is
 
 3i2 EVE 
 
 fidgety.' Then entered the manager, Mr. Justice Barret, 
 a quiet man with a pasty face. 
 
 ' That's him,' exclaimed the wife, ' I said so. I knew 
 his step. I adore him. He is a genius. I lovo him— even 
 his pimples. One must love. Now— don't mind me.' The 
 good-natured creature carried off her baby into a corner, 
 and seated herself with it on a stool : the monkey followed 
 her, knowing that he was not appreciated by the manager, 
 and seated himself beside her, also with his back to the 
 company, and was engrossed in her proceedings with the 
 baby. 
 
 Mr. Justice Barret had a bald head, he was twice his 
 wife's age, had a very smooth face shining with soap. His 
 hands were delicate and clean. He wore polished boots, 
 and white cravat, and a well-brushed black frock-coat. 
 How he managed in a menagerie of children and animals 
 to keep himself tidy was a wonder to the company. 
 
 ' Barret dear ! ' exclaimed his lady, looking over 
 her shoulder, and the monkey turned its head at the same 
 time. ' I've had a jolly row with the landlady over that 
 sheet to which I set fire.' 
 
 ' My dear,' said the manager, ' how often have I urged 
 you not to learn your part on the bed with the candle by 
 your side or in your band ? You will set fire to your pre- 
 cious self some day.' 
 
 ' About the sheet. Barret,' continued his wife ; ' I've 
 paid for it, and have torn it into four. It will make 
 pocket-handkerchiefs for yon, dear.' 
 
 ' Rather large '.' ' asked the manager deferentially 
 
 ' Rather, but that don't matter. Last longer before 
 coming to the wash, and so save money in the end.' 
 
 The manager was now at length able to reach and 
 shake hands with Eve and Jasper. 
 
 ' Bless me, my dear child,' he said to the former, ' you 
 remind me wonderfully of your mother. How is she? I 
 should like to see her again. A sad pity she ever gave up 
 the profession. She had the instincts of an artiste in her,
 
 NOAH'S ARK 3' 3 
 
 but no training, horribly amateurish ; that, however, would 
 rub off.' 
 
 ♦She is (lead,' answered Eve. 'Did you not know 
 that ? ' 
 
 ' Dead ! ' exclaimed the manager. ' Poor soul ! so 
 sweet, so simple, so right-minded. Dead, dead ! Ah me ! 
 the angels go to heaven and the sinners are left. Did 
 she remain with your father, or go home to her own 
 parents ? ' 
 
 ' I thought,' said Eve, much agitated, ' that you could 
 have told me concerning her.' 
 
 ' I ! ' Mr. Justice Barret opened his eyes wide. ' I ! ' 
 
 ' My dear ! ' called Mrs. Barret, ' will you be so good as 
 to throw me over my apron. I am dressing baby for the 
 night, and heaven alone knows where his little night-shirt 
 is. I'll tie him up in this apron.' ' Does your mother 
 know you're out ? ' asked the parrot with its head on one 
 side, looking at Eve. 
 
 ' I think,' said Jasper, ' it would be advisable for me to 
 have a private talk with you, Mr. Barret, if you do not 
 mind walking with me in the square, and then Miss Eve 
 Jordan can see you after. Our time is precious.' 
 
 ' By all means,' answered the manager, ' if Miss Jordan 
 will remain with my wife.' 
 
 ' yes,' said Eve, looking at the parrot ; she was alarmed 
 at the bird. 
 
 ' Do not be afraid of Poll,' said Mr. Barret. Then to 
 his wife, ' Sophie! I don't think it wise to tie up baby as 
 you propose. He might be throttled. We arc going out. 
 Look for the night dress, and let me have the apron again 
 for Polly.' 
 
 At once the article required rushed like a rocket through 
 the air, and struck the manager on the breast. 
 
 ' There,' said lie, ' I will cover Tolly, and she will go 
 to sleep and tall: no more.' 
 
 Then the manager and Jasper wont out. 
 
 ' Now,' said the latter, ' in few words I beg you to tell
 
 3M EVE 
 
 me what you know about the wife of Mr. Jordan of Mor- 
 weil. She was my sister.' 
 
 1 Indeed !— and your name ? I forget what you wrote.' 
 
 1 My name is Babb, but that matters nothing.' 
 
 ' I never knew that of your sister. She would not tell 
 whence she came or who she was.' 
 
 ' From your words just now,' said Jasper, ' I gather 
 that you are unaware that she eloped from Morweil with 
 an actor. I could not speak of this before her daughter.' 
 
 ' Eloped with an actor ! ' repeated the manager. ' If 
 she did, it was after I knew her. Excuse me, I cannot be- 
 lieve it. She may have gone homo to her father ; he 
 wanted her to return to him.' 
 
 ' You know that ? ' 
 
 1 Of course I do. lie came to me, when I was at Tavi- 
 stock, and learned from me where she was. He went to 
 Morweil to see her once or twice, to induce her to return 
 to him.' 
 
 ' You must be very explicit,' said Jasper gravely. ' My 
 sister never came home. Neither my father nor I know 
 to this day what became of her.' 
 
 ' Then she must have remained at Morweil. Her 
 daughter says she is dead.' 
 
 ' She did not remain at Morweil. She disappeared.' 
 
 ' This is very extraordinary. I will tell you all I know, 
 but that is not much. She was not with us very long. 
 She fell ill as we were on our way from Plymouth to 
 Launceston, and we were obliged to leave her at Morweil. 
 the nearest house, that is some eighteen or nineteen years 
 ago. She never rejoined us. After a year, or a year and 
 a half, wu were at Tavistock, on our way to Plymouth, 
 from Exeter by Okehampton, and there her father met us, 
 and I told him what had become of her. I know that I 
 walked out one day to Morweil and saw her. I believe her 
 father had several interviews with her, then something 
 occurred which prevented his meeting her as he had en- 
 gaged, and he asked me to see her again and explain his
 
 NOAH'S ARK 315 
 
 absence. I believe her union with Hie gentleman at Mor- 
 well was not quite regular, but of that I know nothing for 
 certain. Anyhow, her father disapproved and would not 
 meet Mr., what was his name ? — 0, Jordan. He saw his 
 daughter in private, on some rock that stands above the 
 Tamar. There also I met her, by his direction. She was 
 very decided not to leave her child and husband, though 
 sorry to offend and disobey her father. That is all I know 
 — yes ! — I recall the day — Midsummer Eve, June the 
 twenty-third. I never saw her again.' 
 
 ' But are you not aware that my father went to Morwell 
 on the next day, Midsummer Day, and was told that Eve 
 had eloped with you ? ' 
 
 ' With me ! ' the manager stood still. ' With me ! 
 Nonsense ! ' 
 
 1 On the twenty-fourth she was gone." 
 
 Mr. Barret shook his head. ' I cannot understand.' 
 
 ' One word more,' said Jasper. ' You will see Miss 
 Eve Jordan. Do not tell her that I am her uncle. Do not 
 cast a doubt on her mother's death. Speak to her only in 
 praise of her mother as you knew her.' 
 
 ' This is puzzling indeed,' said the manager. ' We 
 have had a party with us, an amateur, a walking character, 
 who talked of Morwell as if he knew it, and I told him 
 about the Miss Eve we had left there and her marriage to 
 the squire. I may have said, " If ever you go there again, 
 remember me to the lady, supposing her alive, and tell me 
 if the child be as beautiful as I remember her mother." ' 
 
 ' There is but one man,' said Jasper, ' who holds the 
 key to the mystery, and he must be forced to disclose.'
 
 316 EVE 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 IN PAKT. 
 
 Mr. Jordan knew more of what went on than Barbara 
 suspected. Jane Welsh attended to hirn a good deal, and 
 she took a mean delight in spying into the actions of her 
 young mistresses, and making herself acquainted with 
 everything that went on in the house and on the estate. 
 In this she was encouraged by Mr. Jordan, who listened to 
 what she told him and became excited and suspicious ; and 
 the fact of exciting his suspicions was encouragement to 
 the maid. The vulgar mind hungers for notoriety, and 
 the girl was flattered by finding that what she hinted 
 stirred the crazy mind of the old man. He was a man 
 prone to suspicion, and to suspect those nearest to him. 
 The recent events at Morwell had made him mistrust his 
 own children. He could not suppose that Martin Babb 
 had escaped without their connivance. It was a triumph 
 to the base mind of Jane to stand closer in her master's 
 confidence than his own children, and she used her best 
 endeavours to thrust herself further in by aggravating his 
 suspicions. 
 
 Barbara was not at ease in her own mind, she was 
 particularly annoyed to hear that Martin was still in the 
 neighbourhood, on their land ; naturally frank, she was 
 impatient of the constraint laid on her. She heartily do- 
 sired that the time would come when concealments might 
 end. She acknowledged the necessity for concealment, but 
 resented it, and could not quite forgive Jasper for having 
 forced it upon her. She even chilled in her manner to- 
 wards him, when told that Martin was still a charge. The 
 fact that she was obliged to think of and succour a man 
 with whom she was not in sympathy, reacted on her rela- 
 tions with Jasper, anl produced constraint.
 
 IN PART 317 
 
 That Jane watched her and Jasper, Barbara did not 
 suspect. Honourable herself, she could not believe that 
 another would act dishonourably. She under- valued Jane's 
 abilities. She knew her to be a common-minded girl, fond 
 of talking, but she made no allowance for that natural 
 inquisitivencss which is the seedleaf of intelligence. The 
 savage who cannot count beyond the fingers of one hand 
 is a master of cunning. There is this difference between 
 men and beasts. The latter bite and destroy the weakly of 
 their race ; men attack,- rend, and trample on the nobles! 
 of their species. 
 
 Mr. Jordan knew that Jasper and Eve had gone to- 
 gether for a long journey, and that Barbara sat up await- 
 ing their return. He had been left unconsulted, he was 
 uninformed by his daughters, and was very angry. He 
 waited all next day, expecting something to be said on the 
 subject to him, but not a word was spoken. 
 
 The weather now changed. The brilliant summer days 
 had suffered an eclipse. The sky was overcast with grey 
 cloud, and cold north-west winds came from the Atlantic, 
 and made the leaves of beech and oak shiver. On the 
 front of heaven, on the face of earth, was written Icha- 
 bod— the glory is departed. What poetry is to the mind, 
 that the sun is to nature. The sun was withdrawn, and 
 the hard light was colourless, prosaic. There was nowhere 
 beauty any more. Two chilly damp days had transformed 
 all. Mr. Jordan shivered in his room. The days seemed 
 to have shortened by a leap. 
 
 Mr. Jordan, out of perversity, because Barbara had 
 advised his remaining in, had walked into the garden, and 
 after shivering there a few minutes had returned to hi3 
 room, out of humour with his daughter because he felt 
 she was in the right in the counsel she gave. 
 
 Then Jane came to him, with mischief in her eyes, 
 breathless. ' Please, master,' she said in low tones, look- 
 ing about her to make sure she was not overheard. ' What 
 do y' think, now ! Mr. Jasper have agone to the wood,
 
 3i 8 EVE 
 
 carrying a blanket. What can he want that for, I'd like 
 to know. He's not thinking of sleeping there, I reckon.' 
 
 'Go after him, Jane,' said Mr. Jordan. 'You are a 
 good girl, more faithful. than my own flesh and blood. Do 
 not allow him to see that he is followed.' 
 
 The girl nodded knowingly, and went out. 
 
 'Now,' said Mr. Jordan to himself, 'I'll come to the 
 bottom of this plot at last. My own children have turned 
 against me. I will let them sec that I can counter-plot. 
 Though I be sick and feeble and old, I will show that I am 
 master still in my own house. Who is there ? ' 
 
 Mr. Coyshe entered, bland and fresh, rubbing hid 
 hands. ' Well, Jordan,' said he— he had become familiar 
 in his address since his engagement — ' how are you ? And 
 my fairy Eve, how is she? None the worse for her 
 junket ? ' 
 
 ' Junket ! ' repeated the old man. ' What junket ? ' 
 
 ' Bless your soul ! ' said the surgeon airily. ' Of course 
 you think only of curdled milk. I don't allude to that 
 local dish — or rather bowl — I mean Eve's expedition to 
 Plymouth t'other night.' 
 
 'Eve -Plymouth!' 
 
 ' Of course. Did you not know ? Have I betrayed a 
 secret ? Lord bless me, why should it be kept a secret ? 
 She enjoyed herself famously. Knows no better, and 
 thought the performance was perfection. I have seen 
 Kemble, and Kean, and Vestris. But for a provincial 
 theatre it was well enough.' 
 
 ' You went with her to the theatre ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I and Mr. Jasper. But don't fancy she went 
 only out of love of amusement. She went to see the 
 manager, a Mr. Justice Thing-a-majig.' 
 
 ' Barret ? ' 
 
 ' That's the man, because he had known her mother.' 
 
 Mr. Jordan's face changed, and his eyes stared. He 
 put up his hands as though waving away something that 
 hung before him.
 
 IN PART 319 
 
 * And Jasper ? ' 
 
 'Oh, Jasper was with her. They left me to eat my 
 supper in comfort. I can't afford to spoil my digestion, 
 and I'm particularly fond of crab. You cannot eat crab 
 in a scramble and do it justice.' 
 
 'Did Jasper see the manager?' Mr. Jordan's voice 
 was hollow. His hands, which he held deprecatingly 
 before him, quivered. He had his elbows on the arms of 
 his chair. 
 
 'Oh, yes, of course he did. Don't ycu understand? 
 He went with Eve whilst I finished the crab. It was 
 really a shame ; they neither of them half cleaned out 
 their claws, they were in such a hurry. " Preciosa " was 
 not amiss, but I preferred crab. One can get plays better 
 elsewhere, but crab nowhere of superior quality.' 
 
 Mr. Jordan began to pick at the horse-hair of his chair 
 arm. There was a hole in the cover and his thin white 
 nervous fingers plucked at the stuffing, and pulled it out. 
 and twisted it and threw it down, and plucked again. 
 
 ' What— what did Jasper hear ? ' he asked falteringly. 
 
 ' How can I tell, Jordan ? I was not with them. I 
 tell you, I was eating my supper quietly, and chewing 
 every mouthful. I cannot bolt my food. It is bad— un- 
 principled to do so.' 
 
 * They told you nothing ? ' 
 
 ' I made no inquiries, and no information was volun- 
 teered.' 
 
 A slight noise behind him made Coyshe turn. Eve 
 
 was in the doorway. ' Here she is to answer for herself,' 
 
 said the surgeon. ' Eve, my love, your father is curious 
 
 about your excursion to Plymouth, and wants to know all 
 
 you heard from the manager. 
 
 'Oh, papa! I ought to have told you!' stammr, 
 ■p or 
 
 Eve. 
 
 'What did he say?' asked the old man, half-im[ 
 
 tiently, half fearfully. 
 
 ' Look here, governor,' said the surgeon ; ' it strikes
 
 32o EVE 
 
 me that you are not acting straight with the girl, and as 
 she is about to become my wife, I'll stand up for her and 
 
 say what is fitting. I cannot see the fun of forcing her 
 to run away a day's journey to pick up a few scraps of 
 information about her mother, when you keep locked up 
 in your own head all that she wants to know. I can un- 
 derstand and make allowance for you not liking to tell her 
 everything, if things were not as is reported — quite 
 ecclesiastically square between you and the lady. But 
 Eve is no longer a child. I intend her to become my 
 wife, and sooner or later she must know all. Make a 
 clean breast and tell everything.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Jasper entering, ' the advice is good.' 
 4 You come also ! ' exclaimed the old man, firing up 
 and pointing with trembling fingers to the intruder ; ' you 
 come — ycu who have led my children into disobedience ? 
 My own daughters are in league against me. As for this 
 girl, Eve, whom I have loved, who has been to me as the 
 apple of my eye, she is false to me.' 
 
 ' Oh, papa ! dear papa ! ' pleaded Eve with tears, ' do 
 not say this. It is not true.' 
 
 ' Not true ? Why do you practise concealment from 
 me ? Why do you carry about with you a ring which Mr. 
 Coyshe never gave you ? Produce it, I have been told 
 about it. You have left it on your table and it has been 
 seen, a ring with a turquoise forget-me-not. Who gave 
 you that? Answer me if you dare. What is the mean- 
 ing of these runnings to and fro into the woods, to the 
 rocks ? ' The old man worked himself into wildness and 
 want of consideration for his child, and for Coyshe to whom 
 she was engaged. ' Listen to me, you,' he turned to the 
 murgeon, holding forth his stick which he had caught up ; 
 'u shall judge between us. Thi3 girl, this daughter of 
 •ie, has met again and again in secret a man whom I 
 ;e, a man who robbed his own father of money that 
 prolonged to me, a man who has been a -jail-bird, an 
 Escaped felon. Is not this so ? Eve, deny it if you can.'
 
 IN PART 321 
 
 •Father!' began Eve, trembling, you are ill, you are 
 excited.' 
 
 ' Answer me ! ' lie shouted so loud as to make all start, 
 striking at the same time the floor with his stick, ' have 
 you not met him in secret ? ' 
 
 She hung her head and sobbed. 
 
 ' You aided that man in making his escape when he 
 was in the hands of the police. I brought the police upon 
 him, and you worked to deliver him. Answer me. Was 
 it not so ? ' 
 
 She faintly murmured, ' Yes.' 
 
 This had been but a conjecture of Mr. Jordan. He 
 was emboldened to proceed, but now Jasper stood forward, 
 grave, collected, facing the white, wild old man. ' Mr. 
 Jordan,' he said, ' that man of whom you speak is my 
 brother. I am to blame, not Miss Eve. Actively neither 
 I nor — most assuredly — your daughter assisted in his 
 escape ; but I will not deny that I was aware he meditated 
 evasion, and he effected it, not through active assistance 
 given him, but because his guards were careless, and be- 
 cause I did not indicate to them the means whereby he 
 was certain to get away, and which I saw and they over- 
 looked.' 
 
 ' Stand aside,' shouted the angry old man. He loved 
 Eve more than he loved anyone else, and as is so often the 
 case when the mind is unhinged, his suspicion and wrath 
 were chiefly directed against his best beloved. He struck 
 at Jasper with his stick, to drive him on one side, and he 
 shrieked with fury to Eve, who cowered and shrank from 
 him. ' You have met this felon, and you love him. That 
 is Avhy I have had such difficulty with you to get you? 
 consent to Mr. Coyshe. Is it not so? Come, answer.' 
 
 ' I like poor Martin,' sobbed Eve. ' I forgive him for 
 taking my money ; it was not his fault.' 
 
 ' See there ! she confesses till. ' Who gave you that 
 ring with the blue stones of which I have been told ? It 
 did not In long to your mother. Mr. Coyshe never gave 
 
 Y
 
 32a EVE 
 
 it you. Answer me at once or I will throw my stick at 
 yon. Who gave you that ring ? ' 
 
 The surgeon, in his sublime self-conceit, not for a 
 moment supposing that any other man had been preferred 
 to himself, thinking that Mr. Jordan was off his head, 
 turned to Eve and said in a low voice, ' Humour him. It 
 is safest. Say what he wishes you to say.' 
 
 ' Martin gave me the ring,' she answered, trembling. 
 
 ' How came you one time to be without your mother's 
 ring ? How came you at another to be possessed of it '? 
 Explain that.' 
 
 Eve threw herself on her knees with a cry. 
 
 1 Oh, papa ! dear papa ! ask me no more questions.' 
 
 'Listen all to me,' said Mr. Jordan, in a loud hard 
 voice. He rose from his chair, resting a hand on each 
 arm, and heaving himself into an upright position. His 
 face was livid, his eyes burned like coals, his hair bristled 
 on his head, as though electrified. He came forward, 
 walking with feet wide apart, and with his hands uplifted, 
 and stood over Eve still kneeling, gazing up at him with 
 terror. 
 
 ' Listen to me, all of you. I know more than any of 
 you suppose. I spy where you are secret. That man who 
 robbed me of my money has lurked in this neighbourhood 
 to rob me of my child. Shall I tell you who he is, this 
 felon, who stole from his father? He is her mother's 
 brother, Eve's uncle.' 
 
 Eve stared with blank eyes into his face, Martin — 
 her uncle 1 She uttered a cry and covered her eyes. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLIX. 
 
 THE OLD GUN. 
 
 Me. Jordan was alone in his room. Evening had Get in, 
 the room was not only chilly, it was dark. He sat in his 
 leather-backed leather-armed chair with his stick in -his
 
 THE OLD GUN 323 
 
 hands, — in both hands, held across hirn, and now and 
 then he put the stick up to his mouth and gnawed at it 
 in the middle. At others he made a sudden movement, 
 slipping his hand down to the ferule and striking in the 
 air with the handle at the black spots which floated in the 
 darkness, of a blackness most intense. He was teased by 
 them, and by his inability to strike them aside. His stick 
 went through them, as through ink, and they closed again 
 when cut, and drifted on through his circle of vision un- 
 hurt, undisturbed. 
 
 Mr. Coyshe was gone ; he had ordered the old man to 
 be left as much in quiet as might be, and he had taken a 
 boy from the farm with him on a horse, to bring back a 
 soothing draught which he promised to send. Mr. Jor- 
 dan had complained of sleeplessness, his nerves were evi- 
 dently in a high and perilous state of tension. Before he 
 left, Mr. Coyshe had said to Barbara, ' Keep an eye on your 
 father, there is irritation somewhere. He talks in an un- 
 reasoning manner. I will send him something to compose 
 hira, and call again to-morrow. In the meantime,' he 
 coughed, ' I — I — would not allow him to shave himself.' 
 
 Barbara's blood curdled. ' You do not think — ' She 
 was unable to finish her sentence.' 
 
 ' Do as I say, and do not allow him to suppose himself 
 watched.' 
 
 Now Barbara acted with unfortunate indiscretion. 
 Knowing that her father was suspicious of her, and com- 
 plained of her observing him, knowing also that his sus- 
 picions extended to Jasper whom he disliked, knowing also 
 that he had taken a liking for Jane, she bade Jane remain 
 about her father, and not allow him to be many minutes 
 unwatched. 
 
 Jane immediately went to the old gentleman, and told 
 him the instructions given her. ' And — please your 
 honour,' she crept close to him, ' I've seen him. He is on 
 the Raven Rock. He has lighted a fire and is warming 
 himself. I think it be the very man that was took hero,
 
 3 2 4 EVE 
 
 but I can't say for certain, as I didn't see the face of him 
 as was took, nor of him on the Hock, but they bo both 
 men, and much about a height.' 
 
 1 Jane ! Is Joseph anywhere about ? ' 
 
 ' No sir, — not nigher than Tavistock.' 
 
 1 Go to him immediately. Bid him collect what men 
 he can, and surround the fellow and secure him.' 
 
 ' But, your honour ! Miss Barbara said I was to watch 
 you as a cat watches a mouse.' 
 
 ' Who is master here, I or she ? I order you to go ; 
 and if she is angry I will protect you against her. I am 
 to be watched, am I ? By my own children ? By my 
 servant? This is more than I can bear. The whole 
 world is conspiring against me. How can I trust anyone 
 —even Jane ? How can I say that the police were not 
 bribed before to let him go ? And they may be bribed 
 again. Trust none but thyself,' ho muttered, and stood 
 up. 
 
 ' Please, master,' said Jane, ' you may bo certain I will 
 do what you want. I'm not like some folks, as is un- 
 natural to their very parents. Why, sir ! what do y' 
 think ? As I were a coming in, who should run by me, 
 looking the pictur' of fear, but Miss Eve. And where do 
 y' think her runned ? Why, sir — I watched her, and her 
 went as fast as a leaping hare over the fields towards the 
 Raven Kock — to whore he be. Well, I'm sure I'd not do 
 that. I don't mind a-going to love feasts in chapel with 
 Joseph, but I wouldn't go seeking him in a wood. Some 
 folks have too much self-respect for that, I reckon.' S3ie 
 muttered this looking up at the old man, uncertain how he 
 would take it. 
 
 ' Go,' said he. ' Leave me — go at once.' 
 
 Presently Barbara came in, and found her father 
 alone. 
 
 ' What, no one with you, papa ? ' 
 
 ' No — I want to be alone. Do you grudge me quiet ? 
 Must I live under a microscope ? Must I have everything
 
 THE OLD GUN 325 
 
 I do marked, every word noted? Why do you peer in 
 here ? Am I an escaped felon to be guarded ? Am I 
 likely to. break out ? Will you leave me ? I tell you I do 
 not want you here. I desire solitude. I have had you 
 and Coyshc and Eve jabbering here till my head spins and 
 my temples are bursting. Leave me alone.' Then, with 
 the craftiness of incipient derangement, he said, 'I have 
 had two — three bad nights, and want sleep. I was dozing 
 in my chair when Jane came in to light a fire. I sent her 
 out. Then, when I was nodding off again, I heard cook 
 or Jasper tramping through the hall. That roused me, 
 and now when I hoped to compose myself again, you thrust 
 yourself upon me ; are you all in a league to drive me 
 mad, by forbidding me sleep ? That is how Hopkins, the 
 witch-finder, got the poor wretches to confess. He would 
 not suffer them to sleep, and at last, in sheer madness and 
 hunger for rest, they confessed whatever was desired of 
 them. You want to force something out of me. That is 
 why you will not let me sleep.' 
 
 ' Papa dear, I shall be so glad if you can sleep. I pro- 
 mise you shall be left quite alone for an hour.' 
 
 ' -an hour ! limited to sixty minutes.' 
 
 1 Dear papa, till you rap on the Avail, to intimate that 
 you are awake.' 
 
 ' You will not pry and peer '? ' 
 
 ' No one shall come near you. I will forbid everyone 
 the hall, lest a step on the pavement should disturb you.' 
 
 ' What are you doing there ? ' 
 
 1 Taking away your razor, papa.' 
 
 Then he burst into a shrill, bitter laugh — a laugh that 
 shivered through her heart. He said nothing, but remained 
 chuckling in his chair. 
 
 'I dare say Jasper will sharpen them for you, papa, he 
 is very kind,' said Barbara, ashamed of her dissimulation. 
 So it came about that the old half-crazy squire was left in 
 the gathering gloom entirely alone and unguarded. Nothing 
 could do him more good than a refreshing sleep, Barbara
 
 326 EVE 
 
 argued, and went away to her own room, where she lit a 
 candle, drew down her blind, and set herself to needle- 
 work. 
 
 She had done what she could. The pantry adjoined 
 the room of her father. Jane would hear if he knocked or 
 called. She did not know that Jane was gone. 
 
 Ignatius Jordan sat in the armchair, biting at his stick, 
 or beating in the air with it at the blots which troubled his 
 vision. These black spots took various shapes ; some- 
 times they were bats, sometimes falling leaves. Then it 
 appeared to him as if a fluid that was black but with a 
 crimson glow in it as of a subdued hidden fire was running 
 and dripped from ledge to ledge — invisible ledges they 
 were — in the air before him. He put his stick out to 
 touch the stream, and then it ran along the stick and 
 flowed on his hand and he uttered a cry, because it burned 
 him. He held his hand up open before him, and thought 
 the palm was black, but with glowing red veins inter- 
 secting the blackness, and he touched the lines with the 
 finger of his left hand. 
 
 1 The line of Venus,' he said, ' strong at the source, 
 fiery and broken by that cross cut — the line of life — long, 
 thin, twisted, tortured, nowhere smooth, and here — What 
 is this? — the end.' 
 
 Then he looked at the index finger of his left hand, the 
 finger that had traced the lines, and it seemed to be alight 
 or smouldering with red fire. 
 
 He heard a strange sound at the window, a sound 
 shrill and unearthly, close as in his ear, and yet certainly 
 not in the room. He held his breath and looked round. 
 He could see nothing through the glass but the grey 
 evening sky, no face looking in and crying at the window. 
 What was it? As he looked it was repeated. In his 
 excited condition of mind he did not seek for a natural 
 explanation. It was a spirit call urging him on. It was 
 silent. Then again repeated. Had he lighted the candle 
 and examined the glass he would have seen a large snail
 
 THE OLD GUN 327 
 
 crawling up the pane, creating the sound hy the vibration 
 of the glass as it drew itself along. 
 
 Then Mr. Jordan rose out of his chair, and looking 
 cautiously from side to side and timorously at the window 
 whence the shrill sound continued, he unlocked a cup- 
 board in the panelling and drew from it powder and shot. 
 
 Barbara had taken away his razors. She feared lest he 
 should do himself an injury ; but though he was weary of 
 his life, he had no thought of hastening his departure from 
 it. His mind was set with deadly resolution of hate on 
 Martin — Martin, that man who had robbed him, who 
 escaped from him as often as ho was taken. Everyone 
 was in league to favour Martin. No one was to be trusted 
 to punish him. He must make sure that the man did not 
 escape this time. This time he would rely on no one but 
 himself. He crossed the room with soft step, opened the 
 door, and entered the hall. There he stood looking about 
 him. He could hear a distant noise of servants talking in 
 the kitchen, but no one was near, no eye observed him. 
 Barbara, true to her promise, was upstairs, believing him 
 asleep. The hall was dark, but not so dark that he 
 could not distinguish what he sought. Some one passed 
 with a light outside, a maid going to the wash-house. 
 The light struck through the transomed window of the 
 hall, painting a black cross against the wall opposite, 
 a black cross that travelled quickly and fell on the old 
 man, creeping along to the fire-place, holding the wall. 
 He remembered the Midsummer Day seventeen years ago 
 when he had stood there against that wall with arms extended 
 in the blaze of the setting sun as a crucified figure against 
 the black shadow of the cross. His life had been one long 
 crucifixion ever since, and his cross a shadow. Then ho 
 stood on a hall chair and took down from its crooks an old 
 
 gun. 
 
 'Seventeen years ago,' ho muttered. 'My God! it 
 failed not then, may it not fail me nowl'
 
 328 £VE 
 
 CHAPTEE L. 
 
 BY THE FIEE. 
 
 Mae tin was weary of the woodman's hut, as he was before 
 weary of the mine. Watt had hard work to pacify him. 
 His rheumatism was better. Neither Jasper nor Walter 
 could decide how far the attack was real and how far simu- 
 lated. Probably he really suffered, and exaggerated his 
 sufferings to provoke sympathy. 
 
 Whilst the weather was summery he endured his capti- 
 vity, for he could lie in the sun on a hot rock and smoke or 
 whistle, with his hands in his pockets, and Martin loved to 
 lounge and be idle ; but when the weather changed, he be- 
 came restive, ill-humoured, and dissatisfied. What aggra- 
 vated his discontent was a visit from Barbara, whom ho 
 found it impossible to impress with admiration for his 
 manly beauty and pity for his sorrows. 
 
 ' That girl is a beast,' he said to Walter, when she was 
 gone. ' I really could hardly be civil to her. A perfect 
 Caliban, devoid of taste and feeling. Upon my word some 
 of our fellow-beings are without humanity. I could see 
 through that person at a glance. She is made up of 
 selfishness. If there be one quality most repulsive to me, 
 that is it— selfishness. I do not believe the creature cast 
 a thought upon me, my wants, my sufferings, my peril. 
 Watt, if she shows her ugly face here again, stand against 
 the door, and say, " Not at home." ' 
 
 ' Dear Martin, we will go as soon as you are well enough 
 to leave.' 
 
 ' Whither are we to go ? I cannot join old Barret and 
 his wife and monkeys and babies and walking-sticks of 
 actors, as long as he is in the county. I would go to 
 Bristol or Bath or Cheltenham if I had money, but these 
 miserly Jordans will not find me any. They want to drive
 
 BY THE FIRE 329 
 
 mo away without first lining my pocket. I know what was 
 meant by those cold slabs of mutton, to-day. It meant, go 
 away. I wait till they give me money.' 
 
 ' Dear Martin, you must not be inconsiderate.' 
 
 'I glory in it. What harm comes of it? It is your 
 long-headed, prudent prophets who get into scrapes and 
 can't get out of them again. I never calculate; I act on 
 impulse, and that always brings me right.' 
 
 ' Not always, Martin, or you would not be here.' 
 
 ' 0, yes, even here. When the impulse comes on me to 
 go, I shall go, and you will find I go at the right time. If 
 that Mis3 Jordan comes here again with her glum ugly 
 mug, I shall be off. Or Jasper, looking as if the end of 
 the world were come. I can't stand that. See how 
 cleverly I got away from Prince's Town.' 
 
 ' I helped you, Martin.' 
 
 • I do not pretend that I did all myself. I did escape, 
 and a brilliantly executed manoeuvre it was. I thought I 
 was caught in a cleft stick when I dropped on the party of 
 beaks at the " Hare and Hounds," but see how splendidly 
 I got away. I do believe, Watt, I've missed my calling, 
 and ought to have been a general in the British army.' 
 
 1 But, dear Martin, generals have to scheme other 
 things beside running away.' 
 
 ' None of your impudence, you jackanapes. I tell you 
 I do not scheme. I act on the spur of the moment. If I 
 had lain awake a week planning I could have done nothing 
 better. The inspiration comes to me the moment I require 
 it. Your vulgar man always does the wrong thing when 
 an emergency arises. By heaven, Watt ! this is a dog*s 
 life I am leading, and not worth living. I am shivering. 
 The damp worms into one's bones. I shall go out on the 
 Bock.' 
 
 ' 0, Martin, stay here. It is warmer in this hut. A 
 cold wind blows.' 
 
 1 It is midwinter here, and can't be more Siberia-like 
 out there. I am sick of the smell of dry leaves. I am
 
 330 EVE 
 
 tired of looking at withered sticks. The monotony of this 
 place is unendurable. I wish I were hack in prison/ 
 
 ' I will nlay my violin to amuse you,' said the boy 
 
 ' Curse your fiddle, I do not want to have that squeaking 
 in my ears ; besides, it is sure to be out of tune with the 
 damp, and screw up as you may, before you have gone live 
 bars it is flat again. Why has Eve not been here to tell 
 me of what she saw in Plymouth ? ' 
 
 'My dear Martin, you must consider. She dare noi 
 come here. You cannot keep open house, and send round 
 cards of invitation, with " Mr. Martin Babb at home." 
 
 1 1 don't care. I shall go on the Rock, and have a 
 fire.' 
 
 1 A fire ! ' exclaimed Watt, aghast. 
 
 ' Why not ? I am cold, and my rheumatism is worse. 
 I won't have rheumatic fever for you or all the Jordans 
 and Jaspers in Devonshire.' 
 
 ' I entreat you, be cautious. Remember you are in 
 hiding. You have already been twice caught.' 
 
 ' Because on both occasions I ran into the hands of tho 
 police. The first time I attempted no concealment. I did 
 not think my father would have been such a — such a pig 
 as to send them after me. I'll tell you what, my boy, there 
 is no generosity and honour anywhere. They are like the 
 wise teeth that come, not to be used, but to go, and go 
 painfully.' Then he burst out of the hut, and groaning 
 and cursing scrambled through the coppice to the Raven 
 Rock. 
 
 Walter knew too well that when his brother had re- 
 solved on anything, however outrageous, it was in vain for 
 him to attempt dissuasion. He therefore accompanied him 
 up the steep slope and through the bushes, lending him a 
 hand, and drawing the boughs back before him, till he 
 reached the platform of rock. 
 
 The signs of autumn were apparent everywhere. Two 
 days before they had not been visible. The bird-cherry 
 was turning ; the leaves of the dog-wood were royal purple,
 
 BY THE FiRE 331 
 
 and those at the extremity of the branches were carmine. 
 Here and there umbelliferous plants had turned white ; all 
 the sap was withdrawn, they were bleached at the prospect 
 of the coming decay of nature. The heather had donned its 
 pale flowers ; but there was no brightness in the purples and 
 pinks, they were the purples and pinks not of sunflush, but 
 of chill. A scent of death pervaded the air. The fox- 
 gloves had flowered up their long spires to the very top, 
 and only at the very top did a feeble bell or two bloom whilst 
 the seeds ripened below. No butterflies, no moths even 
 were about. The next hot day the scarlet admirals would 
 be out, but now they hung with folded wings downwards, 
 exhibiting pepper and salt and no bright colour under the 
 leaves, waiting and shivering. 
 
 * Everything is doleful,' said Martin, standing on the 
 platform and looking round. ' Only one thing lacks to 
 make the misery abject, and that is rain. If the clouds 
 drop, and the water leaks into my den, I'll give myself up, 
 and secure a dry cell somewhere— then Jasper and the 
 Jordans may make the best of it. I'm not going to be- 
 come a confirmed invalid to save Jasper's pride, and help 
 on his suit to that dragon of Wantley. If he thinks it 
 against his interest that I should be in gaol, I'll go back 
 there. I'm not eager to have that heap of superciliousness 
 as a sister-in-law, Walter, so collect sticks and fern that 
 I may have a fire.' 
 
 ' Martin, do not insist on this ; the light and smoke 
 will be seen.' 
 
 ' Who is there to see ? This rock is only visible from 
 Cornwall, and there is no bridge over the Tamar for some 
 miles up the river. Who will care to make a journey of 
 some hours to ask why a fire has been kindled on the Raven 
 Rock ? Look behind, the trees screen this terrace, no one 
 at Morwell will sec. The hills and rocks fold on the river 
 and hide us from all habitable land. Do not oppose me; 
 I will have a fire.' 
 
 '0, Martin,' said the boy, 'you throw on me all the
 
 332 EVE 
 
 responsibility of caring for your safety, and you make my 
 task a hard one by your thoughtlessness. 9 
 
 • I am so unselfish,' said Martin gravely. ' I never do 
 consider myself. I can't help it, such is my nature.' 
 
 Walter reluctantly complied with his brother's wish. 
 The boy had lost his liveliness. The mischief and audacity 
 were driven out of him by the responsibility that weighed 
 on him. 
 
 Abundance of fuel was to be had. The summer had 
 been hot, and little rain had fallen. Wood had been cut 
 the previous winter, and bundles of faggots lay about, that 
 had not been removed and stacked. 
 
 Before long the fire was blazing, and Martin crouched 
 at it warming his hands and knees. His face relaxed whilst 
 that of Walter became lined with anxiety. As he was thus 
 seated, Jasper came on him carrying a blanket. He was 
 dismayed at what his brother had done, and reproached 
 him. 
 
 Martin shrugged his shoulders. ' It is very well for you 
 in a dry house, on a feather bed and between blankets, but 
 very ill for poor me, condemned to live like a wild beast. 
 You should have felt my hands before I had a fire to thaw 
 them at, they were like the cold mutton I had for my 
 dinner.' 
 
 ' Martin, you must put that fire out. You have acted 
 with extreme indiscretion.' 
 
 ' Spare me your reproaches ; I know I am indiscreet. 
 It is my nature, as it lies in the nature of a lion to be noble, 
 and of a dog to be true.' 
 
 ' Really,' said Jasper, hotly, disturbed out of his usual 
 equanimity by the folly of his brother, ' really, Martin, you 
 are most aggravating. You put me to great straits to help 
 you, and strain to the utmost my relations to the Jordan 
 family. I do all I can— more than I ought — for you, and 
 you wantonly provoke danger. Who but you would have 
 had the temerity to return to this neighbourhood after your 
 escape and my accident ! Then — why do you remain here?
 
 BY THE FIRE 333 
 
 I cannot believe in your illness. Your lack of common 
 consideration is the cause of incessant annoyance to your 
 friends. That fire shall go out.' He went to it resolutely, 
 and kicked it apart, and threw some of the flaming oak 
 sticks over the edge of the precipice. 
 
 ' 1 hope you are satisfied now,' said Martin sulkily. 
 ' You have spoiled my pleasure, robbed me of my only 
 comfort, and have gained only this— that I wash my hands 
 of you, and will leave this place to-night. I will no longer 
 remain near you — inhuman, unbrotherly as you are.' 
 
 ' I am very glad to hear that you are going,' answered 
 Jasper. • You shall have my horse. That horse is my 
 own, and he will carry you away. Send Walter for it when 
 you like. I will see that the stable-door is open, and the 
 saddle and bridle handy. The horse is in a stable near the 
 lirst gate, away from the house, and can be taken unob- 
 served.' 
 
 ' You are mightily anxious to be rid of me,' sneered 
 Martin. ' And this is a brother ! ' 
 
 ' I had brought you a blanket off my own bed, because 
 I supposed you were cold.' 
 
 1 1 will not have it,' said Martin sharply. ' If you 
 shiver for want of your blanket I shall be blamed. Your 
 heart will overflow with gall against poor me. Keep your 
 blanket to curl up in yourself. I shall leave to-night. I 
 have too much proper pride to stay where I am not wanted, 
 with a brother who begrudges me a scrap of fire.' 
 
 Jasper held out his hand. ' I must go back at once,' 
 he said. • If you leave to-night it may be years before we 
 meet again. Come, Martin, you know me better than your 
 words imply. Do not take it ill that I have destroyed your 
 fire. I think only of your safety. Give me your hand, 
 brother ; your interest lies at my heart.' 
 
 Martin would not touch the proffered hand, he folded 
 his arms and tinned away. Jasper looked at him, long 
 and sadly, but Martin would not relent, and he left. 
 
 ' Got the embers together again,' ordered Martin,
 
 334 EVE 
 
 ' Under the Scottish fir arc lots of cones full of resin ; pile 
 them on the fire, and make a big blaze. Let Jasper see 
 it. I will show him that I am not going to he beaten by 
 his insolence.' 
 
 'lie may have been rough, but he was right,' said 
 Watt. 
 
 ' Oh ! you also turn against me ! A viper I have che- 
 rished in my bosom ! ' 
 
 The boy sighed ; he dare no longer refuse, and he sor- 
 rowfully gathered the scattered fire together, fanned the 
 embers, applied to them bits of dry fern, then fir cones, 
 and soon a brilliant jet of yellow flame leaped aloft. 
 
 Martin raised himself to his full height that the fire 
 might illuminate him from head to foot, and so he stood, 
 with his arms folded, thinking what a fine fellow he was, 
 and regretting that no appreciative eye was there to see 
 him. 
 
 ' What a splendid creature man is ! ' said he to himself 
 or Walter. ' So great in himself ; and yet, how little and 
 mean he becomes through selfishness ! I pity Jasper—, 
 from my heart I pity him. I am not angry— only sorry/ 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 A SHOT. 
 
 ' Of all things I could have desired — the best ! ' exclaimed 
 Martin Pabb as Eve came from the cover of the wood upon 
 the rocky floor. She was out of breath, and could not, 
 speak. She put both hands on her breast to control her- 
 breathing and quiet her throbbing heart. 
 
 Martin drew one foot over the other, poising it on the, 
 toe, and allowed the yellow firelight to play over his hand-. 
 Borne face and fine form. The appreciative eye was there. 
 1 Lovelier than ever ! ' exclaimed Martin. ' Preciosa come^ 
 to the forest to Alonzo, not Alonzo to Preciosa.
 
 A SHOT 335 
 
 The forest green 1 
 Where warm I he summer sheen ; 
 And echo calls, 
 
 And calls — through leafy halls. 
 Hurrah for the life 'neath the greenwood tree I 
 My horn and mv dogs and my gun for me ! 
 Trarah! Trarah ! Trarah !' 
 
 He sang the first verse of the gipsy chorus with rich 
 tones. He had a beautiful voice, and he knew it. 
 
 The song had given her time to obtain breath, and she 
 said, ' Oh, Martin, you must go — you must indeed ! ' 
 
 ' Why, my Preciosa ? ' 
 
 1 My father knows all— how, I cannot conjecture, but 
 he does know, and he will not spare you.' 
 
 ' My sweet flower,' said Martin, not in the least alarmed, 
 ' the old gentleman cannot hurt me. He cannot himself 
 fetch the dogs of justice and set them on me; and he can- 
 not send for them without your consent. There is plenty 
 of time for me to give them the slip. All is arranged. To- 
 nigbt I leave on Jasper's horse, which he is good enough 
 to lend me.' 
 
 ' You do not know my father. He is not alone — Mr. 
 Coyshe is with him. I cannot answer for what he may do.' 
 
 ' Hah ! ' said Martin, ' I see ! Jealousy may spur him 
 on. He knows that we are rivals. Watt, be off with you 
 after the horse. Perhaps it would be better if I were to 
 depart. I would not spare that pill-compounding Coyshe 
 were he in my power, and I cannot expect him to spare 
 me.' He spoke, and his action was stagy, calculated to 
 impress Eve. 
 
 ' My dear Walter,' said Martin, ' go to Morwcll some 
 other way than the direct path ; workmen may be about — 
 the hour is not so late.' 
 
 The boy did not wait for further orders. 
 
 1 You need not fear for me,' said the escaped convict. 
 'Even if that despicable' roll-pill set off to collect men, I 
 would escape him. 1 have but to leave this spot, and I am 
 pafe I presume nut one of my pursuers will be mounted.'
 
 35 6 EVE 
 
 ' Why have you a lire hero? ' 
 
 ' The lire matters nothing,' said Martin grandly ; ' in- 
 deed' — he collected more- fircones and threw them on — ■ 
 1 indeed, if the form of the hare is to ho discovered, let it 
 be discovered warm. The hunters will search the im- 
 mediate neighbourhood, and the hare will be flying far, far 
 away.' 
 
 • You know best, of course ; but it seems to me very 
 dangerous.' 
 
 ' I laugh at danger ! ' exclaimed Martin, throwing a fag- 
 got on the flames. ' I disport in danger as the seamew in 
 the storm.' He unfolded his arms and waved them over 
 the fire as a bird flapping its wings. 
 
 ' And now,' he went on, ' I leave you— you — to that 
 blood-letter. Why do I trouble myself about my own 
 worthless existence, when you are about to fall a prey to 
 his ravening jaw ? No, Eve, that must never be.' 
 
 ' Martin,' said Eve, ' I must really go home. I only 
 ran here to warn you to be off, and to tell you something. 
 My father has just said that my mother was your 
 sister.' 
 
 He looked at her in silence for some moments in real 
 astonishment— so real that he dropped his affected attitude 
 and expression of face. 
 
 ' Can this be possible ! ' 
 
 « He declared before Mr. Coyshe and me that it was so.' 
 
 ' You liave the same name as my lost sister,' said 
 Martin. ' Her I hardly remember. She ran away from home 
 when I was very young, and what became of her we never 
 heard. If my father knew, he was silent about his know- 
 ledge. I am sure Jasper did not know.' 
 
 ' And Mr. Barret, the manager, did not know either, 
 added Eve. ' When my mother was with him she bore a 
 feigned name, and said nothing about her parents, nor told 
 where was her home.' 
 
 Then Martin recovered himself and laughed. 
 
 ' Why, Eve,' said he, ' if this extraordinary story b6
 
 A SHOT 33 y 
 
 true, I am your uncle and natural protector. This has 
 settled the matter. You shall never have that bolus-maker, 
 leech-applier, Coyshe. I forbid it. I shall stand between 
 you and the altar of sacrifice. I extend my wing, and you 
 take refuge under it. I throw my mantle over you and 
 assure you of my protection. The situation is really — 
 really quite dramatic' 
 
 ' Do not stand so near the edge of the precipice,' pleaded 
 Eve. 
 
 ' I always stand on the verge of precipices, but never 
 go over,' he answered. 'I speak metaphorically. Now, 
 Eve, the way is clear. You shall run away from home as 
 did your mother, and you shall run away with me. Re- 
 member, I am your natural protector.' 
 
 'I cannot — I cannot indeed.' Eve shrank back. 
 
 1 1 swear you shall,' said Martin impetuously. ' It may 
 seem strange that I, who am in personal danger myself, 
 should consider you : but such is my nature — I never 
 regard self when I can do an heroic action. I say, Eve, 
 you shall go with me. I am a man with a governing will, 
 to which all must stoop. You have trifled with the doctor 
 and with me. I hate that man though I have never seen 
 him. I would he were here and I would send him, spec- 
 tacles and all ' 
 
 ' He does not wear spectacles.' 
 
 ' Do not interrupt. I speak symbolically. Spectacles 
 and all, I repeat, with his bottles of leeches, and pestle and 
 mortar, and pills and lotions, over the edge of this precipice 
 into perdition. Good heavens ! if I leave and you remain, 
 I shall be coming back — I cannot keep away. If I escape, 
 it must be with you or not at all. You have a horse of 
 your own : you shall ride with me. You have a purse : 
 till it and bring it in your pocket. Diamonds, silver spoons 
 — anything,' 
 
 She was too frightened to know what to say. He, 
 coward 01 m bully as ho was, saw his advantage, and as- 
 sumed the tone of bluster. 'Do vou understand me? I
 
 3J 8 EVE 
 
 u ill not be trifled with. The thing is settled: you come 
 with me.' 
 
 ' I cannot — indeed I cannot,' said Eve despairingly. 
 
 4 You little fool ! Think of what you saw in the theatre. 
 That is the proper sphere for you, as it is for me. You 
 were born to live on the stage. I am glad you have told 
 me what became of my sister. The artistic instinct is in 
 us. The fire of genius is in our hearts. You cannot drag 
 out life in such a hole as this : you must come into the 
 world. It was so with your mother. Whose example can 
 you follow better than that of a mother ? ' 
 
 ' My father would ' 
 
 ' Your father will not be surprised. What is born in 
 the bone comes out in the flesh. If your mother was an 
 actress— you must be one also. Compare yourself with 
 your half-sister. Is there soul in that macs of common- 
 place ? Is there fire in that cake ? Her mother, you may 
 be certain, was a pudding — a common vulgar suet-pudding. 
 We beings of Genius belong to another world, and we must 
 live in that world or perish. It is settled. You ride with 
 me to-night. I shall introduce you to the world of art, 
 and you will soon be its most brilliant star.' 
 
 1 Hark ! ' exclaimed Eve, starting. ' I heard some- 
 thing stir.' 
 
 Both were silent, and listened. They stood opposite 
 each other, near the edge of the precipice. The darkness 
 had closed in rapidly. The cloudy sky cut off the last 
 light of day. Far, far below, the river cast up at one 
 sweep a steely light, but for the most part of its course it 
 was lost in the inky murkiness of the shadows of mountain, 
 forest, and rock. 
 
 Away at a distance of several miles, on the side of the 
 dark dome of Ilingston Hill, a red star was glimmering — 
 the light from a miner's or moorman's cabin. The fire 
 that flickered on the platform cast flashes of gold on the 
 nearest oak boughs, but was unable to illumine the gulf of 
 darkness that yawned under the forest trees.
 
 A SHOT 359 
 
 Martin stood facing the wood, with his back to the 
 abyss, and the light irradiated his handsome features. 
 Eve timidly looked at him, and thought how noble he 
 seemed. 
 
 ' Was it the sound of a horse's hoof you heard ? ' asked 
 Martin. ' Walter is coming with Jasper's horse.' 
 
 ' I thought a bush moved,' answered Eve, ' and that I 
 heard a click.' 
 
 'It is nothing,' said Martin, 'nothing but an attempt 
 on your part to evade the force of my argument, to divert 
 the current of my speech. You women squirm like eels. 
 There is no holding you save by running a stick through 
 your gills. Mind you, I have decided your destiny. It 
 will be my pride to make a great actress of you. What 
 applause you will gain! What a life of merriment you 
 Avill lead ! I shall take a pride in the thought that I have 
 snatched you away from under the nose of that doctor. 
 Pshaw ! ' — he paused — ' pshaw ! I do not believe that 
 story about your mother being my sister. Whether she 
 were or not matters nothing. You, like myself, have a 
 soul, and a soul that cannot live on a farmyard dungheap. 
 What is that ! I hear a foot on the bracken. Can it be 
 Watt ? ' 
 
 He was silent, listening. He began to feel uneasy. 
 Then from behind the wood came the shrill clangour of a 
 bell. 
 
 ' Something has happened,' said Eve, in great terror. 
 1 That is the alarm bell of our house.' 
 
 ' My God !' cried Martin, ' what is Watt about! He 
 ought to have been here.' In spite of his former swagger 
 he became uneasy. ' Curse him, for a dawdle ! am I going 
 to stick here till taken because he is lazy ? That bell is 
 ringing still.' It was pealing loud and fast. ' I shall leave 
 this rock. If I were taken again I should never escape 
 more. Seven years ! seven years in prison — why, the best 
 part of my life would be gone, and you — I should see you no 
 more. When I came forth you would be Mrs. Sawbones. 
 
 z -i
 
 340 EVE 
 
 I swear by God that shall not be. Eve ! I will not have 
 it. If I get off, you shall follow me. Hark ! I hear the 
 tramp of the horse.' 
 
 He threw up his hands and uttered a shout of joy. He 
 ran forward to the fire, and stood by it, with the full glare 
 of the blazing fircones on his eager face. 
 
 • Eve ! joy, joy ! here comes help. I will make you 
 mount behind me. We will ride away together. Come, 
 we must meet Watt at the gate.' 
 
 A crack, a flash. 
 
 Martin staggered back, and put his hand to his breast. 
 Eve fell to her knees in speechless terror. 
 
 ' Come here,' he said hoarsely, and grasped her arm. 
 ' It is too late : I am struck, I am done for.' 
 
 A shout, and a man was seen plunging through the 
 bushes. 
 
 * Eve ! ' said Martin, ' I will not lose you.' He dragged 
 her two paces in his arms. All power of resistance was 
 gone from her. ' That doctor shall not have you— I'll 
 spoil that at least.' He stooped, kissed her lips and cheek 
 and brow and eyes, and in a moment flung himself, with 
 her in his arms, over the edge of the precipice into the 
 black abyss. 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 THE WHOLE. 
 
 A moment later, only a moment later, and a moment too 
 late, Mr. Jordan reached the platform, having beaten tha 
 branches aside, regardless of the leaves that lashed his face 
 and the brambles that tore his hands. Then, when he saw 
 that he was too late, he uttered a cry of despair. He flung 
 his gun from him, and it went over the edge and fell where 
 it was never found again. Then he raised his arms over 
 his head and clasped them, and brought them down on bis
 
 THE WHOLE 341 
 
 hair — he wore no hat ; and at the same time his knees 
 gave way, and he fell fainting on his face, with his arms 
 extended : the wound in his side had reopened, and the 
 blood burst forth and ran in a red rill towards the fire. 
 
 A few minutes later Jasper came up. Watt was at the 
 gate with the horse. They had heard the shot, and Jas- 
 per had run on. He was followed quickly by Walter, who 
 had fastened up the horse, unable to endure the suspense. 
 
 ' Mr. Jordan is shot,' gasped Jasper, ' Martin has shot 
 him. Help me. I must staunch the wound.' 
 
 ' Not I,' answered the boy ; ' I care nothing for him. I 
 must find Martin. Where is he ? Gone to the hut ? There 
 is no time to be lost. I must find him — that cursed bell is 
 
 ringing. 
 
 Without another thought for the prostrate man, Walter 
 plunged into the coppice, and ran down the steep slope to- 
 wards the woodcutter's hovel. It did not occur to Jasper 
 that the shot he had heard proceeded from the squire's 
 gun. He knew that Martin was armed. He supposed that 
 he had seen the old man emerge from the wood, and, sup- 
 posing him to be one of his pursuers, had fired at him and 
 made his escape. He knew nothing of Eve's visit to the 
 Raven Rock and interview with his brother. 
 
 He turned the insensible man over on his back and dis- 
 covered, to his relief, that he was not dead. He tore open 
 his shirt and found that he was unwounded by any bullet, 
 but that the old self-inflicted wound in his side had opened 
 and was bleeding freely. He knew how to deal with this. 
 He took the old man's shirt and tore it to form a bandage, 
 and passed it round him and stopped temporarily the ebb- 
 ing tide. He heard Walter calling Martin in the wood. 
 It was clear that he had not found his brother in the hut. 
 Now Jasper understood why the alarm-bell was ringing. 
 Barbara had discovered that her father had left the house, 
 and, in fear for the consequences, was summoning the 
 workmen from their cottages to assist in finding him. 
 
 Watt reappeared in great agitation, and, without cast-
 
 342 EVE 
 
 ing a look at the insensible man, said, ' Ho is not there, 
 he may be back in the mine. He may have unlocked the 
 hoathouse and be rowing over tbe Tamar, or down — no — 
 the tide is out, he cannot get down.' Then away he went 
 again into the wood. 
 
 Mr. Jordan lay long insensible. He had lost much 
 blood. Jasper knelt by him. All was now still. Tbe bell 
 was no longer pealing. No step could be heard. Tbe bats 
 ilitted about the rock ; the fire-embers snapped. The wind 
 sighed and piped among the trees. The fire had communi- 
 cated itself to some dry grass, and a tuft flamed up, then 
 a little spluttering flame crept along from grass haulm and 
 twig to a tuft of heather, which it kindled, and which flared 
 up. Jasper, kneeling by Mr. Jordan, watched the progress 
 of tbe fire without paying it much attention. In moments 
 of anxiety trifles catch the eye. lie dare not leave the 
 old man. He waited till those who had been summoned 
 by the bell came that way. 
 
 Presently Ignatius Jordan opened his eyes. ' Eve ! ' he 
 said, and his dim eyes searched the feebly-illuminated 
 platform. Then he laid his head back again on the moss 
 and was unconscious or lost in dream — Jasper could not 
 decide which. Jasper went to the fire and threw on some 
 wood and collected more. The stronger tbe flame the more 
 likely to attract the notice of the searchers. He trod out 
 the fire where it stole, snakelike, along the withered grass 
 that sprouted out of tbe cracks in tbe surface of the rock. 
 He went to the edge of the precipice, and listened in hopes 
 of hearing something, he ha rdly knew what — a sound that 
 might tell him Walter had found his brother. He heard 
 nothing — no dip of oars, no rattle of a chain, from tbe 
 depths and darkness belosv. He returned to Mr. Jordan, 
 and saw that he was conscious and recognised him. The 
 old man signed to him to draw near. 
 
 1 The end is at hand* Tbe blood has nearly all run out. 
 Both are smitten — both the guilty and the guiltless.' 
 
 Jasper supposed be was wandering in bis mind.
 
 THE WHOLE 343 
 
 ' I will tell you all,' said the old man. ' You are her 
 brother, and ought to know.' 
 
 1 You are speaking cf my lost sister Eve ! ' said Jasper 
 eagerly. Not a suspicion crossed his mind that anything 
 had happened to the girl. 
 
 ' I shall soon rejoin her, and the other as well. I would 
 not speak before because of my child. I could not bear 
 that she should look with horror on her father. Now it 
 matters not. She has followed her mother. The need for 
 silence is taken away. Wait ! I must gather my strength, 
 I cannot speak for long.' 
 
 Then from the depths of darkness below the rock, came 
 the hoot of an owl. Jasper knew that it was Watt's signal 
 to Martin — that he was searching for him still. No an- 
 swering hoot came. 
 
 1 You went to Plymouth. You saw the manager who 
 had known my Eve. What did he say ? ' 
 
 ' He told me very little.' 
 
 ' Did he tell you where she was ? ' 
 
 • No. He saw her for the last time on this rock. He 
 had been sent here by her father, who was unable to keep 
 his appointment.' 
 
 ' Go on.' 
 
 ' Tbat is all. She refused to desert you and her child. 
 It is false that she ran away with an actor.' 
 
 ' Who said she had ? Not I— not I. Her own father, 
 her own father — not I.' 
 
 'Then what became of her? Mr. Barret told me he 
 had been to see her here at Morwell once or twice whilst 
 the company was at Tavistock, and found her happy. After 
 that my father came and tried to induce her to return to 
 Buckfastleigh with him.' 
 
 Mr. Jordan put out his white thin hand and laid it on 
 Jasper's wrist. 
 
 ' You need say no more. The end is come, and I will 
 tell you all. I knew that one of the actors came out and 
 saw her— not once onlv, but twice— and then her father
 
 344 
 
 EVE 
 
 came, and she met him in secret, Here in the wood, on thia 
 rock. I did not know that he whom she met was her 
 father. I supposed she was still meeting the actor pri- 
 vately. I was jealous. I loved Eve. Oh, my God! my 
 God ! ' — he put his hands against his temples — ' when 
 have I ceased to love her ? ' 
 
 He did not speak for some moments. Again from the 
 depths, hut more distant, came the to-whoo of the owl. 
 Mr. Jordan removed his hands from his brow and laid 
 them flat at his side on the rock. 
 
 • I was but a country gentleman, with humble pursuits 
 — a silent man, who did not care for society — and I knew 
 that I could not compare with the witty attractive men of 
 the world. I knew that Morwell was a solitary place, and 
 that there were few neighbours. I believed that Eve was 
 unhappy here : I thought she was pining to go back to the 
 merry life she had led with the players. I thought she was 
 weary of me, and I was jealous— jealous and suspicious. I 
 watched her, and when I found that she was meeting some- 
 one in secret here on this rock, and that she tried to hide 
 from me especially that she was doing this, then I went 
 mad — mad with disappointed love, mad with jealousy. I 
 knew she intended to run away from me.' He made a sign 
 with his hand that he could say no more. 
 
 Jasper was greatly moved. At length the mystery was 
 being revealed. The signs of insanity in the old man had 
 disappeared. He spoke with emotion, as was natural, 
 but not irrationally. The fact of being able to tell what 
 had long been consuming his mind relieved it, and perhaps 
 the blood he had lost reduced the fever which had produced 
 hallucination. 
 
 Jasper said in as quiet a voice as he could command, 
 1 My sister loved you and her child, and had no mind to 
 leave you. She was grateful to you for your kindness 
 to her. Unfortunately her early life was not a happy one. 
 My father treated her with harshness and lack of 
 sympathy. He drove her, by his treatment, from home.
 
 THE WHOLE 345 
 
 Now, Mr. Jordan, I can well believe that in a fit of 
 jealousy and unreasoning passion you drove my poor sister 
 away from Morwell — you were not legally married, and 
 could do so. God forgive you ! She did not desert you : 
 you expelled her. Now I desire to know what became of 
 her. Whither did she go ? If she be still alive, I must 
 find her.' 
 
 ' She is not alive,' said Mr. Jordan. 
 Then a great horror came over Jasper, and he shrank 
 away. ' You did not drive her in a fit of desperation to — 
 to self-destruction?' 
 
 Mr. Jordan's earnest eyes were fixed on the dark night 
 sky. He muttered — the words were hardly audible — 
 Si iniquitatcs observavcris, Domine : Domine, quis sits- 
 tinebit? 
 
 Jasper did not catch what he said, and thinking it was 
 something addressed to him, he stooped over Mr. Jordan 
 and said, ' What became of her ? How did she die ? 
 Where is she buried ? ' 
 
 The old man raised himself on one arm and tried to 
 sit up, and looked at Jasper with quivering lips; then 
 held his arm over the rock as, pointing to the abyss, 
 ' Here ! ' he whispered, and fell back on the moss. 
 
 Jasper saw that he had again become unconscious. 
 He feared lest life— or reason— should desert him before 
 he had told the whole story. 
 
 It was some time before the squire was able to speak. 
 When consciousness returned he bent his face to Jasper, 
 and there was not that flicker and wildness in his eyes 
 which Jasper had observed at other times, and which had 
 made him uneasy. Mr. Jordan looked intently and steadily 
 at Jasper. 
 
 • She did not run away from me. I did not drive her 
 from my house as you think. It can avail nothing to 
 conceal the truth longer. I did not wish that Eve, my 
 child, should know it ; but now — it matters no more. 
 My fears are over. I have nothing more to disturb me.
 
 346 EVE 
 
 I care for no one else. I saw my wife on this rock meet 
 the actor, I watched thorn. They did not know that I 
 was spying. I could not hear much of what they said ; 
 I caught only snatches of sentences and stray words. I 
 thought he was urging her to go with him.' 
 
 'No,' interrupted Jasper, 'it was not so. He advised 
 her not to return with her father, but to remain with you.' 
 
 1 Was it so? I was fevered with love and jealousy. I 
 heard his last words— she was to be there on the morrow, 
 Midsummer Day, and then to give the final decision. If I 
 had had my gun I would have shot him there, hut I was 
 unarmed. All that night I was restless. I could not 
 r.leep ; I was as one in a death agony. I thought that Eve 
 was going to desert me for another. And when on the 
 morrow, Midsummer Day, she went at the appointed hour 
 to the Raven Rock, I followed her. She had taken her 
 child — she had made up her mind — she was going. Then 
 I took down my gun and loaded it.' 
 
 Jasper's heart stood still. Now for the first time he 
 began to see and fear what was coining. This was worse 
 than he had anticipated. 
 
 ' I crept along behind a hedge, till I reached the wood. 
 Then I stole through the gate under the trees. I came 
 beneath the great Scotch pine' — he pointed in the direction. 
 ' She had her child with her. She had made up her mind 
 — so I thought — to leave me, and take with her the babe. 
 That she could not leave. Now I see she took it only that 
 she might show the little thing to her father. I watched 
 her on the rock. She kissed the babe and soothed it, and 
 fondled it, and sang to it. She had a sweet voice. I was 
 watching — there — and I had my gun in my hands. The 
 man was not come. I saw rise up before me the life my 
 Eve would lead ; I saw how she would sink, how the man 
 would desert her, and she would fall lower ; and my child, 
 what would become of my child ? Then she turned and 
 looked in my direction. She was listening for the step of 
 her lover. She stooped, and laid the child on the moss,
 
 THE WHOLE 347 
 
 where I lie now. I suppose it opened its eyes, and she 
 began to sing and dance to it, snapping her fingers as 
 though playing castanets. My heart flared within me, my 
 hand shook, and God knows how it was — I do not. I 
 cannot say how it came about, but in one moment the gun 
 was discharged and she fell. I did not mean to kill her 
 when I loaded it, but I did mean to kill the man, the 
 seducer. But whether I did it purposely then, or my 
 finger acted without my will, I cannot say. All is dark 
 to me when I look back — dark as is the darkness over the 
 edge of this rock.' 
 
 Jasper could not speak. He stood and looked with 
 horror on the wounded, w r retched man. 
 
 'I buried her,' said Mr. Jordan, 'in the old copper- 
 mine — long deserted, and only known to me — and there 
 she lies. That is the whole.' 
 
 Then he covered his eyes and said no more. 
 
 CHAPTER LIH. 
 
 BY LANTERN-LIGHT. 
 
 When Barbara had finished her needlework, the wonder 
 which had for some time been obtruding itself upon her — 
 what had become of Eve— became prominent, and aw T oke 
 a fear in her lest she should have run off into the wood to 
 Martin. She did not wish to think that Eve w r ould do 
 such a thing; but, if she were not in the house, and 
 neither her step nor her voice announced her presence, 
 where was she ? Eve was never able to amuse herself, by 
 herself, for long. She must be with someone— with a 
 maid if no one else were available. She had no resources 
 in herself. If she were with Jasper, it did not matter ; 
 but Barbara hardly thought Eve was with him. 
 
 She laid aside her needlework, looked into her sister's 
 room, without expecting to see Eve there, then descended
 
 348 EVE 
 
 and sought Jane, to inquire whether her father had given 
 signs of being awake by knocking. Jane, however, was 
 not in the pantry nor in the kitchen. Jane had not been 
 seen for some lime. Then Barbara very softly stole 
 through the hall and tapped at her father's door. No 
 answer. She opened it and looked in. The room was 
 quite dark. She stood still and listened. She did not 
 hear her father breathe. In some surprise, but hardly yet 
 in alarm, she went for a candle, and returned with it to 
 the room Mr. Jordan occupied. To her amazement and 
 alarm, she found it empty. She ran into the parlour — no 
 one was there. She sought through the house and garden, 
 and stables— not a sign of her father anywhere, and. 
 strangely enough, not of Eve, or of Jane either. Jasper, 
 likewise, had not been seen for some time. Then, in her 
 distress, Barbara rang the alarm-bell, long, hastily, and 
 strongly. When, after the lapse of some while spent in 
 fruitless search, Barbara arrived at the Raven Eock, she 
 was not alone— two or three of the farm labourers and 
 Joseph the policeman were with her. Jane had found her 
 sweetheart on his way to Morwell to visit her. The light 
 of the fire on the Rock, illumining the air above the trees, 
 had attracted the notice of one of the workmen, and now 
 the entire party came on to the Rock as Mr. Jordan had 
 finished his confession, and Jasper, sick at heart, horror- 
 stricken, stood back, speechless, not able to speak. 
 
 Barbara uttered a cry of dismay when she saw her 
 father, and threw herself on her knees at his side. He 
 made a sign to her to keep back, he did not want her ; he 
 beckoned to Jasper. 
 
 ' One word more,' he said in a low tone. ' My hours 
 are nearly over. Lay us all three together — my wife, my 
 child, and me.' 
 
 ' Papa,' said Barbara, ' what do you mean ? what is 
 the matter ? ' 
 
 He paid no attention to her. ' I have told you where 
 she lies. When you have recovered my poor child '
 
 BY LANTERN-LIGHT 349 
 
 ' What child ? ' asked Jasper. 
 
 ' Eve ; what other ? ' 
 
 Jasper did not understand, and supposed he was wan- 
 dering. 
 
 ' He — your brother — leaped off the precipice with her 
 in his arms.' 
 
 4 Papa ! ' cried Barbara. 
 
 ' She is dead— dashed to pieces— and he too. 
 
 Barbara looked at Jasper, then, in terror ran to the 
 edge. Nothing whatever could be seen. That platform 
 of rock might be the end of the world, a cliff jutting forth 
 into infinite space and descending into infinite abysses of 
 blackness. She leaned over and called, but received no 
 answer. Jasper could hardly believe in the truth of what 
 had been said. Turning to the policeman and servants, 
 he spoke sternly : ' Mr. Jordan must be removed at once. 
 Let him be lifted very carefully and carried into the house. 
 He has lain here already unsuccoured too long.' 
 
 ' I will not be removed,' said the old man ; ' leave me 
 here, I shall take no further harm. Go — seek for the body 
 of my poor Eve.' 
 
 ' John Westlake,' called Barbara to one of the men, 
 ' give me the lantern at once.' The man was carrying 
 one. Then, distracted between fear for her sister anc] 
 anxiety about her father, she ran back to Mr. Jordan to 
 know how he was. 
 
 ' You need be in no immediate anxiety about him,' 
 said Jasper. ' It is true that his wound has opened and 
 bled, but 1 have tightly bandaged it again.' 
 
 Joseph, the policeman, stood by helpless, staring 
 blankly about him and scratching his ear. 
 
 Then Barbara noticed a blanket lying in a heap on the 
 rock — the blanket Jasper had brought to his brother, but 
 which had been refused. She caught it up at once aud 
 tore it into shreds, knotted the ends together, took the 
 lantern from the man Westlake, and let the light down 
 the face of the crag. The lantern was of tin and horn,
 
 35o EVE 
 
 and through the sides but a dull light was thrown. She 
 could see nothing — the lantern caught in ivy and heather 
 bushes and turned on one side ; the candle-flame scorched 
 the horn. 
 
 ' I can see nothing,' she said despairingly. * "What 
 shall 1 do ! ' 
 
 Suddenly she grasped Jasper's hand, as he knelt by 
 her, looking down. 
 
 1 Do you hear ? ' 
 
 A faint moan was audible. Was it a human voice, or 
 was a bough swayed and groaning in the wind ? 
 
 All crowded to the edge and held their breath. Mr. 
 Jordan was disregarded in the immediate interest attaching 
 to the fate of Eve. 
 
 No other sound was heard. 
 
 Jasper ran and gathered fir and oak branches and 
 grass, bound them into a faggot, set it on fire, and threw 
 it over the edge, so that it might fall wide of the Rock and 
 illumine its face. There was a glare for a moment, but 
 the faggot went down too swiftly to be of any avail. 
 
 Then Walter, whom none had hitherto observed, pushed 
 through, and, without saying a word to anyone, kicked off 
 his shoes and went over the edge. 
 
 'Let him go,' said Jasper as one of the men endea- 
 voured to stay him ; ' the boy can climb like a squirrel. 
 Let him take the lantern, Barbara, that he may see where 
 to plant his foot and what to hold.' Then he took the 
 blanket rope from her hand, raised the light, and slowly 
 lowered it again beside the descending boy. 
 
 Watt went down nimbly yet cautiously, clinging to ivy 
 and tufts of grass, feeling every projection, and trying 
 with his foot before trusting his weight to it. Pie did not 
 hurry himself. He did not regard those who watched his 
 advance. His descent was in zigzags. He crept along 
 ledges, found a cleft or a step of stone, or a tuft of 
 heather, cr a stem of ivy. AH at once he grasped tin; 
 lantern.
 
 BY LANTERN-LIGHT 351 
 
 ' I see something ! Oh, Jasper, what can it he ! ' 
 gasped Barbara. 
 
 ' Be careful,' he said ; ' do not overbalance yourself.' 
 I have found her,' shouted Watt ; ' only her— not 
 him.' 
 
 * God be praised ! ' whispered Barbara. 
 
 ' Is she alive ? ' called Jasper. 
 
 ' I do not know, I do not care. Martin is not here.' 
 
 'Now,' said Jasper, 'come on, you men — that is, ail 
 but one. We must go below ; not over the cliff, but round 
 through the coppice. We can find our way to the lantern. 
 The boy must be at the bottom. She has fallen,' he ad- 
 dressed Barbara now, ' she has fallen, I trust, among 
 bushes of oak which have broken the force of the fall. Do 
 not be discouraged. Trust in God. Stay here and pray.' 
 
 ' Oh, Jasper, I cannot ! I must go with you.' 
 
 ' You cannot. You must not. The coppice and bram- 
 bles would tear your clothes and hands and face. The 
 scramble is difficult by day and dangerous by night. You 
 must remain here by your father. Trust me. I will do 
 all in my power for poor Eve. We cannot bring her up 
 the way we descend. We must force our way laterally into 
 a path. You remain by your father, and let a man run 
 for another or two more lanterns.' 
 
 Then Jasper went down by way of the wood with the 
 men scrambling, falling, bursting through the brakes ; 
 some cursing when slashed across the face by an oak bough 
 or torn through cloth and skin by a braid of bramble. They 
 were quite invisible to Barbara, and to each other. They 
 went downward : fast they could not go, fearing at every 
 moment to fall over a face of rock ; groping, struggling as 
 with snakes, in the coils of wood ; slipping, falling, scram- 
 bling to their feet again, calling each other, becoming 
 bewildered, losing their direction. The lantern that Watt 
 held was quite invisible to them, buried above their heads 
 in the densest undergrowth. The only man of them who 
 came unhurt out of the coppice was Joseph, who, fearing
 
 352 EVE 
 
 for his face and Lands and uniform, unwilling that lie 
 should appear lacerated and disfigured before Jane, instead 
 of finding his way down through the brush, descended 
 leisurely by the path or road that made a long circuit to 
 the water's edge, and then ascended by the same road 
 again to the place whence he had started. 
 
 Jasper, who had more intelligence than the rest, had 
 taken his bearings, before starting, by the red star on the 
 side of Hingston Hill, that shone out of a miner's hut 
 window. This he was able always to see, and by it to 
 steer his course ; so that eventually he reached the spot 
 where was Watt with the lantern. 
 
 • Where is she ? What are you doing ? ' he asked 
 breathlessly. His hands were torn and bleeding, his face 
 bruised. 
 
 'Oh, I do not know. I left her. I want to find 
 Martin — he cannot be far off.' 
 
 The boy was scrambling on a slope of fallen rubble. 
 
 4 1 insist, Watt : tell me. Give me the lantern at 
 once.' 
 
 ' I will not. She is up there. You can make out the 
 ledge against the sky, and by the light of the fire above ; 
 but Martin — whither is he gone ? ' 
 
 Then away farther down went the boy with his lantern. 
 Instead of following him, Jasper climbed up the rubble 
 slope to the ledge. His eyes had become accustomed to the 
 dark. He distinguished the fluttering end of a white or 
 light- coloured dress. Then he swung himself up upon the 
 ledge, and saw, by the faint light that still lingered in the 
 sky, the figure of a woman — of Eve— lying on one side, 
 with the hands clinging to a broken branch of ivy. A 
 thick bed of heather was on this ledge — so thick that it 
 had prevented Eve from rolling off it when she had fallen 
 into the bush. 
 
 He stooped over her. He felt her heart, he put his 
 ear to her mouth. Immediately he called up to Barbara, 
 • She is alive, but insensible.'
 
 BY LANT£kN-LIGHT 353 
 
 Then lie put Lis hands to his mouth and shouted to 
 the men who had started with him. 
 
 He was startled by seeing Watt with the lantern close 
 to him : the light was on the boy's face. It was agitated 
 with fear, rage, and distress. His eyes were full of tears, 
 sweat poured from his brow. 
 
 ' Why do you shout ? ' he said, and shook his fist in 
 Jasper's face. ' Have you no care for Martin ? I cannot 
 find him yet, but he is near. Be silent, and do not bring 
 the men here. If he is alive I will get him away in the 
 
 boat. If he is dead ' then his sobs burst forth. 
 
 ' Martin ! poor Martin ! where can he be ! Do not call : 
 let no one come here. Oh, Martin, Martin ! ' and away 
 went the boy down again. ' Why is she fallen here and 
 found at once, and he is lost ! Oh, Martin — poor Martin ! ' 
 the edge of the rock came in the way of the light, and 
 Jasper saw no more of the boy and the lantern. 
 
 Unrestrained by what his youngest brother had said, 
 Jasper called repeatedly, till at last the men gathered 
 where he was. Then, with difficulty Eve was moved from 
 where she lay and received in the arms of the men below. 
 She moaned and cried out with pain, but did not recover 
 consciousness. 
 
 Watt was travelling about farther down with his dull 
 light, sometimes obscured, sometimes visible. One of the 
 men shouted to him to bring the lantern up, but his call 
 was disregarded, and next moment Watt and his lantern 
 were forgotten, as another came down the face of the cliff, 
 lowered by Barbara 
 
 Then the men moved away with their burden, and one 
 went before with the light exploring the way. Barbara 
 above knelt at the edge of the rock and prayed, and as she 
 prayed her tears fell over her cheeks. 
 
 At length the little cluster of men appeared with their 
 light through the trees, approaching the Rock from the 
 wood ; they had reached the path and were coming along 
 it. Jasper took the lantern and led the way. 
 
 A A
 
 354 £?E 
 
 ' Lay her hero,' lie said, ' near her father, where there 
 is moss, till we can get a couple of gates.' Then, sud- 
 denly, as the men were ahout to ohey him, he uttered an 
 exclamation of horror. He had put the lantern down 
 heside Mr. Jordan. 
 
 1 Stand hack,' he said to Barbara, who was coming up, 
 1 stand back, I pray you ! ' 
 
 But there was no need for her to stand back : she had 
 seen what he would have hidden from her. In the dark- 
 ness and loneliness, unobserved, Mr. Jordan had lorn 
 away his bandages, and his blood had deluged the turf. 
 It had ceased to flow now — for he was dead. 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 ANOTHER LOAD. 
 
 The sad procession moved to Morwell out of the wood, 
 preceded by the man Westlake, mounted on Jasper's horse, 
 riding hard for the doctor. Then came a stable-boy with 
 the lantern, and after the light two gates — first, that on 
 which was laid the dead body of Mr. Jordan ; then another, 
 followed closely by Barbara, on which lay Eve breathing, 
 but now not even moaning. As the procession was half 
 through the first field the bell of the house tolled. West- 
 lake had communicated the news to the servant-maids, and 
 one of them at once went to the bell. 
 
 Lagging behind all came Joseph Woodman, the police- 
 man. The King of France in the ballad marched up a 
 hill, and then marched down again, having accomplished 
 nothing. Joseph had reversed the process : he had lei- 
 surely marched down the hill, and then more leisurely 
 marched up it again ; but the result was the same as that 
 attained by the King of France. 
 
 On reaching Morwell Jasper said in a low voice to the 
 men, • You must return with me : there is another to be
 
 ANOTHER LOAD 355 
 
 sought for. Who saw the boy with the lantern last ? He 
 may have found him by this time.' 
 
 Then Joseph said slowly, ' As I was down by the 
 boat-house I saw something.' 
 What did you see ? ' 
 
 ' I saw up on the hill-side a lantern travelling this way, 
 then that way, so ' — he made a zigzag indication in the air 
 with his finger. ' It went very slow. It went, so to 
 speak, like a drop 0' rain on a window-pane, that goes this 
 way, then it goes a little more that way, then it goes quite 
 contrary, to the other side. Then it changes its direction 
 once again and it goes a little faster.' 
 
 ' I wish you would go faster,' said Jasper impatiently. 
 * What did you see at last ? ' 
 
 ' I'm getting into it, but I must go my own pace,' said 
 Joseph with unruffled composure. ' You understand me, 
 brothers — I'm not speaking of a drop 0' rain on a window- 
 glass, but of a lantern-light on the hill-side — and bless 
 you, that hill-side was like a black wall rising up on my 
 right hand into the very sky. Well then, the light it 
 travelled like a drop 0' rain on a glass — first to this side, 
 then to that. You've seen drops 0' rain how they travel ' 
 — he appealed to all who listened. ' And I reckon you 
 know how that all to once like the drop, after having 
 travelled first this road, then that road, in a queer con- 
 trary fashion, and very slow, all to once like, as I said, 
 down it runs like a winking of the eye and is gone. So 
 •exactly was it with thicky (that) there light. It rambled 
 ■about on the face of the blackness : first it crawled this 
 way, then it crept that ; always, brothers, going a little 
 lower and then— to once— whish ! — I saw it shoot like 
 ■a falling star — I mean a raindrop— and I saw it no 
 more.' 
 
 ' And then ? ' 
 
 ' Why— and then I came back the same road I went 
 ■down.' 
 
 1 You did not go into the bushes in search ? '
 
 356 EVE 
 
 1 How should I ? ' answered Joseph, • I'd my best uni- 
 form on. I'd come out courting, not thief-catching.' 
 
 1 And you know nothing further ? ' 
 
 ' How should I ? Didn't I say I went back up the road 
 same way as I'd come down ? I warn't bound to get my 
 new cloth coat and trousers tore all abroad by brimbles, 
 not for nobody. I know my duty better than that. The 
 county pays for 'em.' 
 
 Directed by this poor indication, Jasper led the men 
 back into the wood and down the woodman's truck 
 road, that led by a long sweep to the bottom of the 
 cliffs. 
 
 The search was for a long time ineffectual ; but at 
 length, at the foot of a rock, they came on the object of 
 their quest — the body of Martin — among fragments of 
 fallen crag, and over it, clinging to his brother with 
 one arm, the hand passed through the ring of a battered 
 lantern, was Walter. The light was extinguished in the 
 lantern and the light was beaten out of the brothers. 
 Jasper looked into the poor boy's face — a scornful smile 
 still lingered on the lips. 
 
 Apparently he .had discovered his brother's body and 
 then had tried to drag it away down the steep slope to- 
 wards the old mine, in the hopes of hiding there and find- 
 ing that Martin was stunned, not dead ; but in the dark- 
 ness he had stumbled over another precipice or slidden 
 down a run of shale and been shot with his burden over a 
 rock. Again the sad procession was formed. The two 
 gates that had been already used were put in requisition a 
 second time, and the bodies of Martin and Watt were 
 carried to Morwell and laid in the hall, side by side, and 
 he who carried a light placed it at their head. 
 
 Mr. Coyshe had arrived. Dor three of those brought 
 in no medical aid was of avail. 
 
 Barbara, always practical and self-possessed, had 
 ordered the cook to prepare supper for the men. Then the 
 two dead brothers were left where they had been laid, with
 
 ANOTHER LOAD 357 
 
 the dull lantern burning at their head, and the hungry 
 searchers went to the kitchen to refresh. 
 
 Joseph ensconced himself by the fire, and Jane drew 
 close to him. 
 
 'I reckon,' said the policeman, 'I'll have some hot 
 grog.' Then he slid his arm round Jane's waist and said, 
 ' In the midst of death we are in life. Is that really, now, 
 giblet pie '? The cold joint I don't fancy ' — he gave Jane a 
 smack on the cheek. ' Jane, I'll have a good help of the 
 giblet pie, please, and the workmen can finish the cold 
 veal. I like my grog hot and strong and with three lumps 
 of double-refined sugar. You'll take a sip first, Jane, and 
 I'll drink where your honeyed lips have a-sipped. When 
 you come to consider it in a proper spirit ' — he drew Jane 
 closer to his side — ' there's a deal of truth in Scriptur'. In 
 the midst of death we are in life. Why, Jane, we shall 
 enjoy ourselves this evening as much as if we were at a 
 love-feast. I've a sweet tooth, Jane — a very sweet tooth.' 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 WHAT EVERY FOOL KNOWS. 
 
 Jasper stood on the staircase waiting. Then he heard a 
 step descend. There was no light : the maids, in the ex- 
 citement and confusion, had forgotten their duties. No 
 lamp on the staircase, none in the hall. Only in the latter 
 the dull glimmer of the horu lantern that irradiated but 
 did not illumine the faces of two who were dead. The oak 
 door at the foot of the stairs was ajar, and a feeble light 
 from this lantern penetrated to the staircase. The window 
 admitted some greyness from the overcast sky. 
 
 * Tell me, Barbara,' he said, ' what is the doctor's 
 report ? ' 
 
 Jasper ! ' Then Barbara's strength gave way, and
 
 35 8 EVE 
 
 she burst into a flood of tears. He put Lis arm round her, 
 and she rested her head on his breast and cried herself 
 out, She needed this relief. She had kept control over 
 herself by the strength of her will. There was no one in 
 the house to think for her, to arrange anything ; she had 
 the care of everything on her, beside her great sorrow for 
 her father, and fear for Eve. As for the servant girls, they 
 were more trouble than help. Men were in the kitchen ; 
 that sufficed to turn their heads and make them leave un- 
 done all they ought to have done, and do just those things 
 they ought not to do. At this moment, after the strain, 
 the presence of a sympathetic heart opened the fountain of 
 her tears and broke down her self-restraint. 
 
 Jasper did not interrupt her, though he was anxious to 
 know the result of Mr. Coy she's examination. He waited 
 patiently, with the weeping girl in his arms, till she looked 
 up and said, ' Thank you, dear friend, for letting me cry 
 here : it has done me good.' 
 
 ' Now, Barbara, tell me all.' 
 
 « Jasper, the doctor says that Eve will live.' 
 
 ' God's name be praised for that ! ' 
 
 ' But he says that she will be nothing but a poor cripple 
 all her days.' 
 
 ' Then we must take care of her.' 
 
 ' Yes, Jasper, I will devote my life to her.' 
 
 ' We will, Barbara.' 
 
 She took his hand and pressed it between both hers. 
 
 ' But,' she said hesitatingly, ' what if Mr. Coy she ' 
 
 She did not finish the sentence. 
 
 ' Wait till Mr. Coyshe claims her.' 
 
 1 He is engaged to her, so of course he will, the more 
 readily now that she is such a poor crushed worm.' 
 
 Jasper said nothing. He knew Mr. Coyshe better than 
 Barbara, perhaps. He had taken his measure when he 
 went with him over the farm after the signing of the 
 
 will. 
 
 ' This place is hers by her father's will,' said Jasper;
 
 WHAT EVERY FOOL KNOWS 359 
 
 ' and, should the surgeon draw back, she will need you and 
 me to look after her interests.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Barbara, ' she will need us both.' 
 
 Then she withdrew her hands and returned upstairs. 
 
 A few days later Mr. Coyshe took occasion to clear the 
 ground. He explained to Barbara that his engagement 
 must be considered at an end. He was very sorry, but he 
 must look out for his own interests, as he had neither 
 parent alive to look out for them for him. It would be 
 quite impossible for him to get on with a wife who was a 
 cripple. 
 
 ' You are premature, Mr. Coyshe,' said Miss Jordan 
 stiffly. ' If you had waited till my sister were able to 
 speak and act, she would have, herself, released you.' 
 
 1 Exactly,' said the unabashed surgeon ; ' but I am so 
 considerate of the feelings of the lady, that I spare her the 
 trouble.' 
 
 And now let us spread the golden wings of fancy, and 
 fly the scenes of sorrow — but fly, not in space, but in time ; 
 measure not miles, but months. 
 
 It is autumn, far on into September, and Michaelmas 
 has brought with it the last days of summer. Not this 
 the autumn that we saw coming on, with the turning dog- 
 wood and bird-cherry, but another. 
 
 In the garden the colchicum has raised its pale lilac 
 flowers. The Michaelmas daisy is surrounded by the 
 humming-bird moth with transparent wings, but wings 
 that vibrate so fast that they can only be seen as a quiver 
 of light. The mountain ash is hung with clusters of 
 clear crimson berries, and the redbreasts and finches are 
 about it, tearing improvidontly at the store, thoughtless 
 of the coming winter, and strewing the soil with wasted 
 coral. 
 
 Eve is seated in the sun outside the house, in the gar- 
 den, and on her knees is a baby — Barbara's child, and yet 
 Eve's also, for if Barbara gave it life, Eve gave it a name. 
 Before her sister Barbara kneels, now just restored from
 
 360 EVE 
 
 her confinement, a little pale and large in eye, looking up 
 at her sister and then down at the child. Jasper stands 
 by contemplating the pretty group. 
 
 1 Eve,' said Barbara in a low tremulous voice, ' I have 
 had for some months on my heart a great fear lest, when 
 my little one came, I should love it with all my heart, and 
 rob you. I had the same fear before I married Jasper, 
 lest he should snatch some of my love away from the dear 
 suffering sister who needs all. But now I have no such 
 fear any more, for love, I find, is a great mystery — it is 
 infinitely divisible, yet ever complete. It is like ' — she 
 lowered her voice reverently — ' it is like what we Catholics 
 believe about the body of our Lord, the very Sacrament of 
 Love. That is in Heaven and in every church. It is on 
 every altar, and in every communicant, entire. I thought 
 once that when I had a husband, and then a little child, 
 love would suffer diminution — that I could not share love 
 without lessening the portion of each. But it is not so. 
 I love my baby with my whole undivided heart ; I love 
 you, my sister, equally with my whole undivided heart ; 
 and I love my husband also,' she turned and smiled at 
 Jasper, ' with my very whole and undivided heart. It is a 
 great mystery, but love is divine, and divine things are 
 perceived and believed by the heart, though beyond the 
 reason.' 
 
 ' So,' said Eve, smiling, and with her blue eyes filling, 
 ' my dear, dear Barbara, once so prosaic and so practical, 
 is becoming an idealist and poetical.' 
 
 1 Wherever unselfish love reigns, there is poetry,' said 
 Jasper ; • the sweetest of the songs of life is the song of 
 self-sacrificing love. Barbara never was prosaic. She 
 was always an idealist ; but, my dear Eve, the heart needs 
 culture to sec and distinguish true poetry from false senti- 
 ment. That you lacked at one time. That you have now. 
 I once knew a little girl, light of heart, and loving only 
 self, with no earnest purpose, blown about by every 
 caprice. Now I see a change — a change from base ele-
 
 WHAT EVERY FOOL KNOWS 361 
 
 meat to a divine presence. I see a sweet face as of old, 
 but I see something in it, new-born ; a soul full of self- 
 reproach and passionate love ; a heart that is innocent as 
 of old, but yet that has learned a great deal, and all good, 
 through suffering. I see a life that was once purposeless 
 now instinct with purpose —the purpose to live for duty, in 
 self-sacrifice, and not for pleasure. My dear Eve, the 
 great and solemn priest Pain has laid his hands on you 
 and broken you, and held you up to Heaven, and you 
 are not what you were, and yet — and yet are the same.' 
 
 Eve could not speak. She put her arms round her 
 sister's neck, and clung to her, and the tears flowed from 
 both their eyes, and fell upon the tiny Eve lying on the 
 knees of the elder Eve. 
 
 But though they were clasped over the child, no shadow 
 fell on its little face. The baby laughed. 
 
 • •••••• 
 
 Some years ago — the author cannot at the moment say 
 how many, nor does it matter — he paid a visit to Morwell, 
 and saw the sad havoc that had been wrought to the vene- 
 rable hunting-lodge of the Abbots of Tavistock. The old 
 hall had disappeared, a floor had been put across it, and it 
 had been converted into an upper and lower story of rooms. 
 One wing had been transformed into a range of model 
 cottages for labourers. The house of the Jordans was now 
 a farm. 
 
 The author asked if he might see the remains of anti- 
 quity within the house. 
 
 An old woman who had answered his knock and ring, 
 replied, • There are none — all have been swept away.' 
 
 4 But,' said he, * in my childhood I remember that the 
 place was full of interest ; and by the way, what has be- 
 come of the good people who lived here ? I have been in 
 another part of the country, and indeed a great deal 
 abroad.' 
 
 ' Do you mean Mr. Jasper ? ' 
 
 1 No : Jasper, no— the name began with J.'
 
 j62 EVE 
 
 ' The old Squire Jordan your honour moans, no doub?., 
 Ho be dead ages ago. Mr. Jasper married Miss Jordan — ■ 
 Miss Barbara we called her. When Miss Eve died, they 
 went away to Buekfastleigh, where they had a house and 
 a factory. There was a queer matter about the old 
 squire's death — did you never hoar of that, sir ? ' 
 
 ' I heard something ; but I was very young then.' 
 
 ' My Joseph could tell you all about it better than 1/ 
 
 ' Who is your Joseph ? ' 
 
 ' Well, sir, I'm ashamed to say it, but he's my sweet- 
 heart, who's boon a-courting of me these fifty years.' 
 
 ' Not married yet ? ' 
 
 ' He's a slow man is Joseph. I reckon he'd 'a' spoken 
 out if he d been able at last, but the paralysis took 'm in 
 the legs. He put off and off — and I encouraged him all I 
 could ; but he always was a slow man.' 
 
 ' Where is he now? ' 
 
 ' Oh, he's with his married sister. He sits in a chair, 
 and when I can I run to 'm and take him some backy or 
 barley-sugar. He's vastly fond o' sucking sticks o' barley- 
 sugar. Gentlefolks as come here sometimes give me a 
 shilling, and I lay that out on getting Joseph what he 
 likes. He always had a sweet tooth.' 
 
 1 Then you love him still ? ' 
 
 The old woman looked at me with surprise. Her hand 
 and head shook. 
 
 ' Of course I does : love is eternal — every fool knows ; 
 that.' 
 
 TnE END. 
 
 1 Kl N III) |;V 
 
 BPornswooDB ixd co., new-stueet squarb 
 
 LOXDON
 
 ALPHABETICAL CATALOGUE OF BOOKS 
 
 IN 
 
 GENERAL LITERATURE AND FICTION 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 CHATTO 6 WlNDUS 
 in St. Martin's Lane, Charing Cross 
 
 Tel tgrams 
 Bookstore, London 
 
 London, W.C. 
 
 Telephone No, 
 3524 Central 
 
 ADAMS (W. DAVENPORT).— 
 A Dictionary of the Drama: A 
 
 Guide to the Plays, Playwrights, Players, 
 and Playhouses of the United Kingdom 
 and America, from the Earliest Times to 
 the Present. Vol. I. (A toG). Demy8vo, 
 cloth 10s. 6d. net. — Vol. II., completing 
 the'Work, is in preparation. 
 
 KEMPIS (THOMAS).— Of the 
 
 Imitation of Christ, as translated from 
 the Latin by Richard Whytford in 
 15=56 ; re-edited into modern English bv 
 Wilfrid Raynal, O.S.B. With illustra- 
 tions in colour and line by W. Russell 
 FLINT. Large crown 8vo, cloth, Is. 6d. 
 net; Edition" de Luxe, small 4to, printed 
 on pure rag paper, parchment, 15s. net ; 
 pigskin with clasp*. 2>t. net. 
 
 ALDEN (W. L.). — Drewitt's 
 
 Dream. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 ALLEN (GRANT), Books by. 
 Post-Prandial Philosophy. Crown 
 8vo, art linen, 3s. fid. 
 
 Crown 8vo cloth, 3 s. Oil. each ; post Svo, 
 
 illustrated board-;, 2$. each. 
 Babylon. With 12 Illustrations. 
 Strange Stories. 
 The Beckoning Hand. 
 For Mnimie'a Sake. 
 Philistia. I In all Shades. 
 The Devil's Die. 
 This Mortal Coil. 
 The Tents of Shorn. 
 The Great Taboo. 
 Dumaresq's Daughter. 
 Under Sealed Orders. 
 The Duchess of Powysland. 
 Blood Royal. 
 
 Ivan Greets Masterpiece. 
 The Scallywag. With 24 Illustrations. 
 At Market Value. 
 
 The Tents of Shem. Popular 
 
 Edition, medium Svo, <\i. 
 Babylon. Cheap Edition, post 8vo, 
 cloth, is. net. 
 
 ANDERSON (MARY).-Othello's 
 
 Occupation. Crown Svo. cloth -??. hd. 
 
 ANTROBUS (C. L.), Novels by. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth. 6s. each. 
 Quality Corner. I WUdorsmoor 
 The Wine of Finvarra. 
 
 ALEXANDER (Mrs.), Novels by. 
 
 Crown 8vo. cloth 3.?. 6d. each ; post Svo, 
 
 picture boards. 2s. each. 
 Valerie's Fate. I Mona's Choice. 
 A Idfo In terest. I Wom an's Wit. 
 
 Crown Svo, colli, 3*. oj. each. 
 The Cost of her Pride. 
 A Golden Autumn. 
 Barbara, Lady's Maid & Peeress. 
 Mrs. Crichton's Creditor. 
 A Missing Hero. 
 A Fight with Fate. 
 The Step- mother. 
 Blind Fate. Post Svo, picture boards, 2s. 
 
 ALMAZ (E. F.).— Copper under 
 
 the Uo ; d. Crown 8vo. c'.oih, 3.5- 6/. 
 
 AMERICAN FARMER, LET- 
 TERS FROM AN. By J. H. St. John 
 CrAvkcoeur, with Prefatory Note by W. 
 P. Trfnt, and Introduction bv Ludwig 
 LEWISOHV. I*» my Svo, cloth.'oc net. 
 
 APPLETON (0. W.), Novels by. 
 Rash Conclusions. Cr. 8vo, cl., 31. 6d. 
 The Lady in Snbles. Cr. 8vo. cl.. 6s 
 
 ARNOLD (E. L.), Stories by. 
 
 The Wonderful Adventures of 
 Phra the Phoenician. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth, with 12 Illusts. by H. M. Paget, 
 ?f. 6d . : pnst Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 The Constable of St. Nicholas. 
 With a Frontispiece. Crown Svo, cloth, 
 3*. 6d. : picture cloth, flat back. 2.?, 
 
 ART and LETTERS LIBRARY 
 
 (The). Large crown Svo. Each volume 
 with 8 Coloured Plates, and 24 in Half- 
 tone. Buckram, 7s. 6d. net per vol. 
 Edition de Luxe, small 4to. with 5 
 ariditl. platen, priited on pure ra^ raper, 
 parchment, 15.S. net per vol. ; vellum, 20s. 
 net per vol. ; morocco, 301. net per vol. 
 
 Stories of the Italian Artists 
 from Vasari. Collected and arranged 
 by E. L. Seei.ey. 
 
 Artists of the Italian Renais- 
 sance: thfir Stories as set forth by 
 Vasari, Ridolfi,Lanzi, and the Chroniclers. 
 Collected ant arranged bv E. L. Seei.ey. 
 
 Stories of the Flemish and Dutch 
 Artists, irom the Time of the Van 
 Eycl-s to the End of the Seventeenth 
 Century, drawn from Contemporary 
 Records. Collected and arranged by 
 Victor Reynolds. 
 
 [W]
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 ART & LETTERS LIBRARY— eentd. 
 
 Stories of the English: Artists, 
 from Vandyck to Turner (1600-1851), 
 drawn from Contemporary Records. Col- 
 lected and arranged by RANDALL DAVIES 
 and Cf.cil Hunt. 
 
 Stories of the French Artists, 
 from Clouet to Ingres, drawn (rem Con- 
 temporary Records. Collected and 
 arranged by P. M. Tuknlk and C. H. 
 Collins Baker. 
 
 Stories of the Spanish Artists 
 until Goya. Drawn from Contempor- 
 ary Records. „ Collected and arranged by 
 LUIS CARRENQ. [Preparing. 
 
 The Little Flowers of S.Francis of 
 
 Jissiai. Trans, by Prof. T. W.Arnold. 
 
 Large crown 8vo, cloth, 7*, 6rf. net each ; 
 parchment. 10s. 6d. net each. 
 
 Women of Florence. By Prof. Isi- 
 doro del Lungo. Translated by Maky 
 G.STEEGMANN. With Introduction by 
 Dr. Guido Biagi, 2 Coloured Plates and 
 24 in Half-tone. 
 
 The Master of Game: The Oldest 
 English Book on Hunting. By Edward, 
 Second Duke of York, Edited by W. A. 
 and F. Baillie-Grohman. With Intro 
 rtuction by Theodore Roosevelt, 
 Photogravure Frontispiece, and 23 full 
 page Illustrations after Illuminations. 
 
 AUTHORS for the POCKET. 
 
 Mostly compiled by A. H. HYATT, lfimo, 
 cloth, 2i.net e.ich ; leather, 3s. net each. 
 
 The Pocket K. L. S. 
 
 The Pocket Thackeray. 
 
 The Pocket Charles Dickens. 
 
 The Pocket Blchard Jefferles; 
 
 Vhe Pocket George IffacDonald. 
 
 Tha Pocket Emerson. 
 
 The Pocket Thomas Hardy. 
 
 The Pocket George Eliot. 
 
 The Pocket Charles Ktngsley. 
 
 The Pocket Raskin. 
 
 The Pocket Lord Eeaconsfleld. 
 
 The Flower of the Mind. 
 
 BACTERIA, Yeast Fungi, and 
 
 Allied Species, A Synopsis of. By 
 W. B. Grove. RA. With 87 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth. 3*. 6d. 
 
 ARTEMUS WARD'S Works. 
 
 Ciown 8vo, cloth, with Portrait, 3s. (id. ; 
 mst 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 ARTIST (The Mind of the): 
 
 Thoughts and Sayings of Artists on their 
 Art. Collected and arranged by Mrs. 
 Laurence Bjnyon. With 8 full-page 
 Plates. Fcap.8vo, cloth, gilt top, 3j.6rf.net 
 
 ASHTON (JOHN).— Social Life 
 in the Reign of Queen Anne. With 
 Ss; Illustrations. Crown 8vo. ctoth, 3$. 6n\ 
 
 AUGUSTINE (Saint), The Con- 
 fessions of, as translated by Dr. E. B. 
 Pusey. Edited by TEMPLE Scott, with 
 an Introduction by Mrs. Meynell. With 
 ii Plates in four colours and 1 in four 
 colours and gold, by Maxwell Arm- 
 field. Large cr. Svo. cloth, 7s. (id. net. 
 Also an Edition he I.lxr, cr. 4to, pure 
 rag paper, with the plates mtd., parchment, 
 15.-. net: p ; gskin with clasps, 25?. net. 
 
 AUSTEN (J AN El, The Works of: 
 
 The ST. MARTIN'S ILLUSTRATED 
 EDITION, in Ten Volumes, each Illus- 
 trated with Ten Reproductions after 
 Water-colours by A. Wallis MILLS. 
 With Bibliographical and Biographical 
 Notes by R. Brimley Johnson. 'Post 8vo, 
 cloth, 3$. (>d. net per vol, The Novels are 
 arranged in the following order. Vols. I 
 and H.. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE; 
 Vols. III. and IV., SENSE AND SENSI- 
 BILITY; Vol. V., NORTHANGER 
 ABBEY : Vol. VI., PERSUASION i 
 Vols. VII. and VIII., EMMA ; Vols. IX. 
 andX., MANSFIELD PARK. 
 
 BALLADS and LYRICS of LOVE, 
 
 selected from PERCY'S 'Kvliques.' Edited 
 with an Introduction by F. Sidgwick. 
 With 10 Plates in Colour after By am 
 Shaw, R.I. Large fcap. 4 to, cloth, 6s. 
 net; Large Paper Edition, parchment, 
 IJ.t. 61. net. 
 Legendary Ballads, selected from 
 Percy's 'Reliques.' Edited wi!h an 
 Introduction by F. Sidgwick. With 10 
 Plates in Colour after Byam Shaw, R.I. 
 Large fcap. <jto, cloth, 6s. net ; Largk 
 Paper Edition, parchment, 125. 6d. net. 
 
 BARDSLEY (Rev. C. W.).— 
 
 English Surnames : Their Sources 
 and Significations. Cr. Svo. cloth, ys- 6,/. 
 
 BARGAIN BOOK (The).— By C.E. 
 
 JERNINGHAM. With a Photogravure 
 Frontispiece. Demy 8vo, cloth, lot. 6d. 
 net. [Preparing. 
 
 BARING-GOULD (S.), Novels by. 
 
 Cr >\vn Svo, cloth, 35. 6d. each ; post Svo, 
 illustrated boards, 2s. each ; POPULAR 
 Editions, medium Svo. 6d. each. 
 Red Spider. I Eve . 
 
 BARKER (ELSA).— The Son of 
 
 Mary Bethel. Crown Svo, cloth. 6s. 
 
 BARR (AMELIA E.).-Love will 
 
 Venture in. Cr. 8vo, cloth, 3.?. 6d. 
 
 BARR (ROBERT), Stories by. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth. 34 6d. each. 
 In a Steamer Chair. With 2 Illusts. 
 From Whose Bourne, &c. With 47 
 
 Illustrations by Hal Hurst and others. 
 Revenge! With 12 Illustrations by 
 
 Lancelot SPEEDand others. 
 R. 'Woman Intervenes. 
 A Prince of Good Fellows. With 
 
 15 Illustrations by E. J. Sullivan. 
 The Speculations of John Steele. 
 The Unchanging Bast. 
 
 BARRETT (FRANK), Novels by. 
 
 Post Rvo, illust. bds.. 7..1. ea.:cl., 21. 6d. ea. 
 The Sin of Olga Zassoulich. 
 Little Lady Linton. 
 Honest Davie. | Found Guilty
 
 Ill ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, W.C. 
 
 BARRETT (FRANK), Novels by— cent. 
 Post 8vo, illust. bds., 2i. ea.; cl., is. 6d.es. 
 
 John Ford; and Hi3 Helpmate. 
 
 A Recoiling Vengeance. 
 
 Lieut. Ba rnabas. 
 
 Cr. 3vo, cloth, js. fid. each ; post 8vo, illust. 
 boards, is. each : cloth limp, is. 6d. each. 
 
 For love and Honour. 
 
 Between Lif a and Death. 
 
 Fetterad for Life. 
 
 A Misaisig "Witness. With 8 Illus- 
 trations by W. H. MARGETSON. 
 
 The Woman of tho Ii'on Bracelets. 
 
 The Harding Scandal. 
 
 A Prodigal's Progress. 
 
 Folly Morrison. 
 
 Under a Strange Mask. With 19 
 
 Illustrations by E. F. l'.KEWTNALL. 
 "Was She Justified? 
 The Obliging Husband. With 
 Coloured Frontispiece. 
 
 Crown 8^0, cloth, 6s. each. 
 Lady Judas. 
 The Error of Her Ways. 
 
 Fettered for Life. Popular Edition, 
 i:i<rdiiui! Svo. 64 
 
 BARR1NGT0N .MlCriAfcL;.— 
 The Knight of the Gotden Sword. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 BASKERVILLE (JOHN): A 
 
 Memoir. By Ralph Straus and R. K. 
 Dent. With 13 Platea. Large quarto, 
 buckram, us, net. 
 
 BATH (The) in Diseases of the 
 
 .Skin, by J. L. Milton. Post Svo, is. ; 
 clocn, is. 6d. 
 
 BEACONS FIELD, LORD. ByT. 
 
 P. O'CONNOR, M.P. Crown Svo. cloth, 5s. 
 
 BECHSTEIN(LUDWIG), and the 
 
 Brothers aRlMM.— As Pretty as 
 Seven, and other Stories. With 98 
 Illustrations by Ricuter. Square 8vo, 
 cloth, 6s. 6d. ; gilt edges, js. 6d. 
 
 BENNETT (ARNOLD), Novels 
 
 by. Crown Svo, cloth. 6s. each. 
 Leonora. I A Great Man. 
 Tereaa of Watllug Street. With S 
 
 Illustrations bv FRANK GiLLETT, 
 
 Talrs of the Five Towns. 
 
 Hugo. 
 
 Sacred and Profane Love. Crown 
 svo, cloth, 6s. ; Cheap Edition, with 
 pie'.ure cover in 3 colours, Js. net. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, 3;. (Id. each. 
 Anna of the Five Towns. 
 The Gates of Wrath. 
 Tho Ghost. I The City of Pleasure. 
 
 The Grand Babylon Hotel. Crown 
 Svo. cloth, 3*, 6d. ; Popular Edition, 
 medium Svo, 6d. 
 
 BENNETT (W. C.).-Songs for 
 
 Sailors. Post 8vo, cloth, is. 
 
 BESANT and RICE, Novels by. 
 
 Cr. Svo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each ; post 8vo, 
 illust. bds. is. each ; cl. limp, is. 6d. each, 
 
 Ready-Money Mortiboy. 
 
 The Golden Butterfly. 
 
 My Little Girl. 
 
 With Harp and Crown. 
 
 This Son of Vulcan. 
 
 The Monks of Thole ni a. 
 
 By Celia's Arbour. 
 
 The Chaplain of the Fleet. 
 
 The Seamy Side. 
 
 The Case of Mr. Lucraft. 
 
 'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay. 
 
 The Ten Years' Tenant. 
 
 BESANT (Sir WALTER), 
 
 Novels by. Crown Svo, cloth, 3s. 6d. 
 each ; post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 each ; cloth limp, is. 6d. each. 
 
 All Sorts and Conditions of Men. 
 With 11 Illustrations by Fred. Barnard. 
 
 The Captain's Koom, &c. 
 
 All in a Garden Fair. With 6 Illus- 
 trations by Harry Furniss. 
 
 Dorothy Forater. With Frontispiece. 
 
 Uncle Jack, and other Stories. 
 
 Children of Gibr.oii. 
 
 The World Went Very Weil Then. 
 With 12 Illustrations by A. FORESTIER. 
 
 Herr Pauius. 
 
 The Bell of St. Paul's. 
 
 For Faith and Freedom. With 
 Illusts. bv A. Forestjer and F. Waddv. 
 
 To Call Her Mine, &c With 9 Illus- 
 trations by A FORESTIER. 
 
 The Holy Hose, Sx. With Frontispiece. 
 
 ArmoreiOf Lyonesse. With 12 Illus- 
 trations by F. Barnard. 
 
 St. Katherine's by the Tower. 
 With 12 Illustrations by C. Green. 
 
 Verbena Camellia Stephanotls. 
 
 The Ivory Gate. 
 
 The Rebel Quean. 
 
 Beyond the Dreams of Avarice. 
 With 12 Illustrations by W. II. HYDE. 
 
 In Deacon's Orders, &c. With Frontis. 
 
 The Revolt of Man. 
 
 The Master Craftsman. 
 
 The City of Roiuge. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth 3s. 6d. each. 
 
 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 The Changeling. 
 
 The Fourth Generation. 
 
 The Orange Girl. With 8 Illustrations 
 by F. Pf.gram. 
 
 The Alabaster Box. 
 
 The Lady of Lynn. With 12 Illustra- 
 tions by g. Demain-Haiimonp, 
 
 Mo Other Way. With 12 Illustrations 
 by C. D. Ward. 
 
 Crown Svo. picturt; cloth, flat back, 2s. each. 
 St. Katherine's by the Tower. 
 Tho Rebel Q ueen. 
 
 Large Type, Fink Paper Editions, pott 
 8vo, cloth, gilt top, is. net each ; leather, 
 gilt edges, 3s. net each. 
 
 London. 
 
 Westminster. 
 
 Jerusalem. (In collaboration with Prof, 
 E, >i, Palmer.)
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 BESANT (Sir Walter)— continued. 
 Fine Paper Editions, pott 8vo, 2s. net ea. 
 Sir Richard Whlttington. 
 Oaspard de Colltfriy. 
 All Sorts an d Co nditions of Men. 
 Popular Editions, medium 8vo, 6./. e.ich 
 All Sorts and Conditions of Men. 
 The Golden Butterfly. 
 Ready-Money Mortiboy. 
 By Cella's Arbour. 
 The Chaplain of the Fleet. 
 The Monks of Thalema. 
 The Orange Girl. 
 For Faith and Freedom. 
 Children of Gibson. 
 Dorothy Forater. | No Other Way. 
 
 Demy 8vo, cloth, 7s. td. each. 
 London. With 125 Illustrations. 
 "Westminster. With Etching by F. S. 
 
 Walkkk, and 130 Illustrations. 
 South London. With Etching by F. S. 
 
 Walker, and 118 Illustrations. 
 East London. With Etching by F. S. 
 
 Walker, and 56 Illustrations by Phil 
 
 Mat, L . Rav en Hill, and J. Pennell. 
 Crown 8vo, buckram, 6s. each. 
 As We Are and Vts We May Be. 
 Essays and Historiettes. 
 The Eulog y of Richard Jefferies. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. (xL. each. 
 Fifty Years Ago. With 144 Illusts. 
 The Charm, and other Drawing-room 
 
 Piays. With 50 Illustrations by'ciiRi* 
 
 Hammo nm, &c 
 
 Art Of Fiction. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, is.net. 
 
 BIBLIOTHECA ROMANICA : A 
 
 series of the Classics of the Romance 
 (French, Italian, Spanish, and Portu- 
 guese) Languages; the Original Text, 
 with where necessary, Notes and Intro- 
 ductions in the language of the Text. 
 Small 8vo, single parte, 8d. net per 
 vol. ; cloth, single parts, is. net per vol. 
 Where two or more units are bound in oive 
 volume (indicated by nambers against 
 the title) the price in wrapper remains 8d. 
 per unit, i.e., two numbers cost is.qd. : 
 three cost 2s. ; four cost a*. &i. In the 
 cloth binding the additional cost is qd 
 for the first, and id. for each succeeding 
 unit : i.e., one unit costs Is. ; two cost 
 is. od. ; three cost 2s. bd.\ four cost 3s. 3d. 
 
 1. Molifere: Le Misanthrope. 
 
 3. Mollere: Lcs Fcmmes savantes. 
 
 3. Cornell le: Le Cid. 
 
 4. Descartes: Discours de la me- 
 
 thode. 
 5-6. Dante : Divina Commedia I. : 
 Inferno. 
 
 7. Boccaccio: Decameron: Prima 
 
 giornata. 
 
 8. Calderon : La vida es suefio. 
 
 9. Restif de la Bretonne: L'an 
 
 2000. 
 
 10. Camoes: OsLusi'adas: Canto I., 1 1. 
 
 11. Racine: Athalic. 
 
 12-15. Petraroa : Rerum vulgarium 
 
 fragments. 
 16-17. Dante : Divina Commedia II. : 
 
 Purgatorio, 
 
 BIBL1OTH0CA KOMANlC\— continued. 
 18-20. TUller: Mon oncle Benjamin. 
 21-22. Boccaccio: Decameron : Seconds 
 
 giornata. 
 
 23-24. Beaumarchats : Le Barbier de 
 
 Seville. 
 
 25. Camoes: OsLusi'adas: Canto III. 
 
 IV. 
 26-28. Alfred de Museet: Comc'dies ct 
 
 Prove; bca : La Nuit venitieune; 
 
 Andr<5 del Sat to ; Les Caprices de 
 
 Marianne; Fantasia; Onuebadine 
 
 pas avee 1'aniour. 
 20- Cornellla: Horace. 
 30-ji. Dante: Divina Commedia III.: 
 
 Paradiso, 
 33-34. Prevost : Manon Lcscaut. 
 35-36. GSuvres de Wait re Francois 
 
 Villon. 
 37-39- Guillem de Castro: Las Moce- 
 
 dades del Cid, I„ II. 
 
 40. Dante: La Vita Nuova. 
 
 41-44. Cervantes : Ciuco Novelas ejem- 
 plares. 
 
 45. Camoes: Os Lusiadas: Canto V, 
 
 VI. , VI t. 
 
 46. Molie.ro: L'Avare. 
 
 47. Petrarca: I Trionfi. 
 
 48-49. Bocoaccio: Decameron: Ter/.a 
 giornata. 
 50. Cornellle: Cinna. 
 
 51 52 Camoes : Os Lusiadas : Canto VIII., 
 
 IX., X. 
 53-54 La Chanson de Roland. 
 55-58 Alfred de Musset : Premieres 
 
 Poesies. 
 59. Bocoaoolo : Decameron: Qunrta 
 
 giornata. 
 
 60-61. Malstre Pierre Pathelln : 
 
 Farce du XV siecle. 
 62-63. Glacomo Leopardl : Canti. 
 6465. Chateaubriand: Atala. 
 
 66. Boooaoclo : Decameron, Quints 
 giornata. 
 
 67-70. Blaise Pascal : Les Provinciales 
 
 BIERCE (AMBROSE).— In the 
 
 Midst of Life. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3*. r*/. ; 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. ; Cheap 
 Edition, picture cover, is. net. 
 
 B1NDLOSS (HAROLD), Novels by. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth. Or. each. 
 The Concession-Hunters. 
 The Mistress of Eonaventure. 
 Daventry's Dautfh «>«•. 
 
 A Sower of Wheat. Cr. 8vo, cl., 3*. 6d. 
 Ainslle's Ju-ju. Crown 8vo, cloth, 
 3s. dd. ; picture cloth, flat back, 2r. 
 
 BLAKE (WILLIAM): A Critical 
 
 Study by A. C. SWINBURNE. With a 
 Portrait. Crown 8vo, buckram, 61. net. 
 
 BOCCACCIO.— The Decameron. 
 
 Willi a Portrait Pott 8vo, cloth, gilt 
 top, at. net : leather, gilt edges, 31, net.
 
 Ill ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, W.C. 
 
 BODKIN (McD., K.C.), Books by 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, is. ixl. each. 
 Cora Myrl, the Lady Detective, 
 uhttielagh and Shamrock. 
 Patsav the Omadaun. 
 
 BOKfcNIUS (TANCRED).— The 
 
 Painters of Vicenza. With 15 Full- 
 page Plates. Demy 8vo.. cloth, 7s. 6tl. net. 
 
 BOURQET (PAUL).— A Living 
 
 Lie. Translated by John De Villiers. 
 down 8vo, cloth, 31. 6d, ; Cheap Edition, 
 pic lire cover, is. net. 
 
 BOYLE" 
 
 Post 
 
 (F.), Works by. 
 
 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 Chronicles of No-Han's Land. 
 Clamp Notes. | Sav age Life. 
 
 BRAND (JOHN).— Observations 
 
 on Popular Antiquities. With the 
 Additions oi Sir HenkY Ellis. Crown 
 8vo. clolh. 3?. 6d. 
 
 BRAYSHAW(J. DODSWORTH). 
 
 — Slum Silhouettes: Stories of London 
 Liie. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3*. *d. 
 
 BREWER'S (Rev. Dr.) Diction- 
 
 aries. Crown 8vo, cloth, 31. (>1. each. 
 TheRoador'sUand book of Famous 
 
 Names in Fiction, Allusions, 
 
 References, Proverbs, Plots, 
 
 Stories, and Poems. 
 A Dictionary of Miracles : Imitative. 
 
 Realistic, and Dogmatic 
 
 BREWSTER (Sir DAVID), 
 
 Works by. Post 8vo. cloth. 4s. 6,1. each. 
 More Worlds than One: Creed of 
 
 Philosopher, Hop« ot Christian. Plates. 
 The Martyrs of Science: Galileo, 
 
 TTCHO Brahr, and Kbplkr. 
 Letters on Natural Magic With 
 
 nniurmua Illustrations. 
 
 BR! DUE CATECHISM. By R. 
 
 H. Bktdges. Fcap, 8vo. cloth, ?.t. 6rf. net 
 
 BRIDGE (J. S C.).— Hroiu Island 
 
 to Empire : A History of the Expansion 
 
 1 f Kntl.Hn ! by Force of Arms. With In- 
 tro auction by Adm. Sir CYPRIAN BRIDGE, 
 M ips and P.ans. Large crown 8vo, 
 c'olh. (<s. net. 
 
 BRIGHT (FLORENCE).-A Girl 
 
 Capitalist. Crown Bvo clolh 1 s. 
 
 BROWN INQ'S ( ROBTO POEMS; 
 
 Plppa Passes; and Men and 
 
 Women. With 10 Plates in Colour 
 
 after Eleanor F. Bkickdale. Large 
 
 fop. 4(0, cloth, 6s. nel ; LARGE PAPER 
 Edition, parchment. 12s. 6d net. 
 Dramatis Person rs j and Dramatlo 
 Romances and L.vrlos. With 10 
 Plates 111 Colour after K. K. BRICKDALK. 
 Large fc.1p.4to, cloth. 6s. net; LARGE 
 PAPER Edi 1 IO N', parchment, 12s. 6,.'. net. 
 
 BRY DEN (H7~A.).— An Exiled 
 
 Scot. With Frontispiece by J. S. 
 CROMPTON, R.I, Crown 8vo, cloth, 3*. to. | 
 
 BRYDGES (HAROLD). — Uncle 
 
 Sam at Home. With 91 Musts. Post 
 
 Svo, iLlust. boards is. : cioih limp. 2s.6d. 
 
 BUCHANAN (ROBERT), Poems 
 
 and Novels by. 
 
 The Complete Poetical Works of 
 Robert Buchanan. 2 Vols., crown 
 8vo, buckram, with Portrait Frontispiece 
 to each volume, 12s. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, is. bd. each ; post 8vo, 
 Illustrated boards, 25. each. 
 
 The Shadow of the Sword. 
 
 A Child of Nature. 
 
 God and the Man. With 11 Illustra- 
 tions by F, Barnard. 
 
 Lady Kllpatrlck. 
 
 The Martyrdom of Madeline. 
 
 Love Me for fiver. 
 
 Annan Water. | Foxglove Manor. 
 
 The New Abelard. | Rachel Dene. 
 
 Matt: A Story of a Caravan. 
 
 The Master of the Mine. 
 
 The Heir of Linne. 
 
 Woman and the Man. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, 3.5. bd. each. 
 
 Red and White Heather. 
 
 Andromeda. 
 
 Popular Editions, medium Svo, 6d. each. 
 
 The Shadow of the Sword. 
 
 God and the Man. 
 
 Foxglove Manor. 
 
 The Shadow of the Sword. Large 
 ivi'K, Fink Paper Edition. Pott Kvo, 
 cloth, gilt to-/, 2s. net ; leather, gilt edges, 
 3«. net. 
 
 Tho Charlatan. By Robert Buchanan 
 and Henry MURRAY. Crown 8vo, cloth, 
 with Frontispiece by T. H. Robinson, 
 3*. 6d. ; post Svo, illustrated hoards, 2s. 
 
 BURGESS (GELE TT) and WILL 
 
 IR'.VIN. — The Picaroons: A San 
 Francisco Night's Entertainment. 
 Crown Svo, Cloth, «. 
 
 BUTTON (RO~BERT% — The 
 
 Anatomy 01 Melancholy. With a 
 Photogravure Front. spiccc. Demy 8vo. 
 cloth 7t. ftd. 
 
 CAINE (HALL), Novels by. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 35. td. each ; post 8vo, 
 illustrated boards, 2s. each; cloth limp, 
 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 The Shadow of a Crime. 
 
 A Son of Hagar. | The Leemster. 
 
 Also Library Editions of the tiuce novels, 
 
 crown Svo, cloth, 6s. each ; CHEAP POPU. 
 
 LAR Editions, medium 8vo,port rait cover, 
 
 6d. each ; and the Fine Paper Edition 
 of The Deemster, pott 8vo, cloth, 
 gill top, 2s. ne t ; leather. gilt edges.31.neL 
 
 CAMERON (V. LOVE IT). -The 
 Cruise of the 'Black Prince* 
 Privateer. Cr. Svo, cloth, with 2 Illus- 
 trationsb P. MACMAB, Jl. 6d. ; post Kvo, 
 picture boards, 2s. 
 
 CAMPBELL (A. GODRIC). — 
 
 I liur- de- Camp : a Daughter of 
 France. Crown Svo, cloth, us.
 
 CHATTO & W1NDUS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 CAMPING JN THE FOREST. 
 
 With Illustrations in Colour and Line by 
 Margaret Clayton. Fcap. 4to, cloth, 
 
 3< <>d net. . 
 
 CARLYLE '(THOMAS).— On the 
 
 Choice of Book s. Post Svo, cloth, is.bd . 
 
 CARROLL (LEWIS), Books by. 
 Alice In Wonderland. With 12 
 loured Edict many Line Illustrations by 
 Mi lucent SOWERBY. Large crown Svo, 
 cloth ;;ilt, Sv. net. 
 Feeding the Mind. With a Preface 
 by W. H. LVRaPEK. Post 8vo, boards, 
 is, nel : l«V 1 ' is. net 
 
 CARkUTH (iiAYDEN). — i he Ad 
 
 ventures ot Jones. With 17 lllusts. 
 Fcap.Hvo picture over, is. : cloth, is. bd 
 
 CHAPMAN'S (GEORGE) Works. 
 
 Vol. I., Plays Complete, including thf 
 Doubtful Ones. — Vol. II., Poems and 
 Minor Translations, with Essay by A. C 
 SWINBURNE. — Vol. III., Translations ol 
 the Iliad and Odyssey. Three Vols, 
 crown Svo. cloth, 3*. bd. each. 
 
 CHATFIELD-TAYLOR (M. o- 
 
 Fame's Pathway. Cr. 8v .. cloth. 6t. 
 
 CHAUCER for Children : A Gol- 
 den Key. By Mrs. H. li. Haweis. With 
 S Coloured Plates and 30 Woodcuts. 
 Crown 4to. cloth, js. bd. 
 
 Chaucer for Schools. With the Story 
 of his Times and his Work. By Mrs. 
 H. P. Haweis. Demy 8vo, cloth, is. bd. 
 
 The Prologue to the Canterbury 
 Tales. Printed in black letter upon 
 hand-made paper, with Illustrations by 
 Ambrose Dudley. Fcap. 410, decorated 
 cloth, red top, is. bd. net. 
 
 CHESNEY (WEATHERBY), 
 
 Novels by. Crown Svo, cloth, 3;. bd. 
 
 each. 
 The Cable-man. 
 The Rom ance of a Q ueen. 
 _ The Clai mant, crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 CHESS, The Laws and Practice 
 
 ©{; with an Analysis of the Openings. 
 By Howard Staunton. Edited by 
 K. B. Wormai.D. Crown 8vo. cioth, 5?. 
 The Minor Tactics of Chess: A 
 
 Treatise on the Deployment of the 
 Porces in obedience to Strategic Principle. 
 By F, K. Young and E. C. Howell. 
 l-'cap Svo, clo'.h, is. bd. 
 The Hastings Cbess Tournament. 
 
 i lie Authorised Account 01 the 2j J Games 
 played Aug.-Sept., 180.5. With Annota- 
 tions by PiLLSBURY, L\skek, Tarrasch, 
 Sjteinitz, Schitt-eks, Teichmaxx, Bar- 
 
 llELKBEN, BLAQSBURKE, GUNSBERG, 
 
 Ti.nsley, Mason, and Albin ; Biographi 
 cal Sketches, and 12 Portraits. Edited by 
 H. F. Cheshire, down Svo. cloth, 5*. 
 
 CHILD-LOVER'S CALENDAR, 
 
 1909. With Coloured lllusts. by Amelia 
 M. BOWBRLBY, i6nio, p'cturebds, U. net. 
 
 CLARE (AUSTIN), Stories by. 
 By the Rise of the River. Crown 
 Svo, cloth, as. M, 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, bs. each. 
 The Tideway. 
 Randal of Randalholme. 
 
 CLODD (EDWARD). —Myths 
 
 and Dreams. Crown Svo, cloth, 3*, bd. 
 
 CLIVE (Mrs. ARCHER), Novels 
 
 by. Post 8vo, cloth. 31. bd. each ; illus- 
 trated boards, is. each. 
 
 Paul Ferroll. 
 
 Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife 
 
 COBBAN (J. MACLAREN), 
 Novels by. 
 
 The Cure of Souls. Post 8vo, illus- 
 trated boards, is. 
 
 The Red Sultan. Crown 8\o, cloth, 
 35. M. ; post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 The liurden of Isabel. Crown 8vo, 
 clo;h, 3$; fid. 
 
 COLLINS (J. CHURTON, M.A.). 
 —Jonathan Swift. Cr. 8vo, c!., 3*. bd. 
 
 COLLINS (MORTIMER and 
 
 FRANCES), Novels by. Cr.Svo, pi., 
 3s. bd. each; post Svo, illustd. bds.. is. each, 
 
 Froii/ Midnight to Midnight. 
 
 You Play me False. 
 
 Blacksmith and Scholar. 
 
 The Village Comedy. 
 
 Frances. 
 
 Post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Transmigration. 
 
 A Fight with Fortune. 
 
 Sweet Anne Page. 
 
 Sweet and Twenty. 
 
 COLOUR-BOOKS: Topographs 
 
 cal. Large fcap.4to, cloth, 2a4.net each, 
 * Switzerland: The Country and 
 its People. By Clarence Rook. 
 With 50 Illustrations in Three Colours by- 
 Mrs. |AMES J ardink. and 24 in Two Tint-". 
 "The Face of China. Written and 
 lllus. in Colour and Line by E. G. KEMP, 
 "The Colour of Rome. By Olavk 
 M. Pun eh. With Introduction by 
 DOUGLAS Sladex, and Illustration- in 
 Three Colours and S.pia by Yoshio 
 Markino. 
 -The Colour of London. By Rev. 
 W. J. Loiilli, l'.S.A, With Introduction 
 by M. H. Sl'IEl.MANN, K.S.A., and Illus- 
 trations in Three Colours and Sepia 
 bv Yosmo Markino. 
 •The Colour of Paris. By MM. lks 
 ACADEMICIENS GOJJCOUKT. Edited by 
 LiciKN Descaves. With Introduction by 
 L. Benedite. Translated by M.D; Frost, 
 Illustrated in Three Colours and Sepia, 
 with an Essay, by Yoshio Markino. 
 »Calro, Jerusalem, and Damascus. 
 Jiy L>. S. Makgoliouth, Litt.D. With 
 Illustrations in Three Colours by W. S. b. 
 Tyrwhitt, R.B.A., and Rlglnai.d 
 E.'.kuait, A.R.W.S.
 
 Ill ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, W.C. 
 
 COLOUR- BOO KS— continued. 
 The Rhine. By H. J. Mackinder. 
 With Illustrations in Three Colours by 
 Mrs. James Jardink, and Two Maps. 
 
 •Assisi of St. Francis. By Mr-?. 
 Robert Gofk. With Introduction by 
 J. Kerr Lawson, Illustrations in Three 
 Colours by Colonel R. Goff, and 
 Reproductions of the chief Franciscan 
 Paintings. 
 
 •Devon: its Moorlands, Streams, 
 and Coasts. By Lady Rosalind 
 Northcote. With Illustrations in Three 
 Colours bv F. J. WiDGERT. 
 The Greater Abbeys of England. 
 By Rij'.ht Rev. ABBOT GASQ.UET. With 
 Co Illustrations in Three Colours by 
 Warwi ck Goblb. 
 
 Large foolscap 4to, cloth, io». 6d. net each. 
 
 *Yonice. By Beryl de Sblincourt and 
 MaySturge-Hexderson. With 30 Illus- 
 trations in Three Colours by Reginald 
 Barratt, A.R.W.S. 
 Lisbon and Cintra : with some Ac- 
 count of nther Oties and Site?; in Portu- 
 gal. By A. C. Inchbold. With 30 Illus- 
 trations In Three Colours by Stanley 
 Inchbold. 
 
 From the Thames to the Seine. 
 
 By Charles Pkahs. With 40 Illustra- 
 tions in Three Colours and Sepia. Larj;e 
 fcap, 4I0, cloth, 12s. 6d. net. [Preparing. 
 
 From tbe North Foreland to Pen- 
 zance. By Clive Holland. With 
 numerous Illustrations in Three Colours 
 by Maurice Randall. Large fcap. 4to, 
 cloth, I2„t. 6d. net. 
 
 In the Abruzzl : The Country and the 
 Pc.pie. By Anne Macdonell. With 
 12 Illustrations in Three Colours by Amy 
 Atkinson. Large crown 8vo, pi., 6s. net. 
 
 The Barbarians of Morocco. By 
 Count Sternberg. translated by 
 Ethel Peck. Willi 12 Illustrations in 
 Three Colours by Douglas Fox Pitt, 
 R.l. Large crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. net. 
 • a * SPECtAL COPIES on pure rag paper 0/ 
 those marked* may be had. 
 
 COLLINS (WlLKlEy-continued. 
 
 Popular Editions, medium 8vo, 6d. each. 
 
 Antonina. 
 
 The Woman in White. 
 
 Tbe Law and the Lady. 
 
 Moonstone. | The New Magdalen. 
 
 The Dead Secret. I No Name. 
 
 Man and Wife Armadale. 
 
 The Hau nted H otel, &c. 
 
 The Woman in White. Large Type, 
 Fine Papier Editiox. Pott 8vo, cloth, 
 gilt top. 2j.net : leather, gilt edges, 3s. net. 
 
 The Fror.en Deep. Large t«ry e Edit. 
 Fcap. Svo, cl., is. net ; leather, Is. 6d. net. 
 
 COLQUHOUN (M. J.).— Every 
 
 Inch a Soldier. Crown 8vo, cloth, 
 3j. 6d. ; post 8vo, illustrated boards. 25. 
 
 COLT-BREAKING, Hints on. By 
 
 W. M. Hutchison. Cr. 8vo, cl., 3.?. 6d. 
 
 COLTON (ARTHUR). — The 
 
 Belted Seas. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3*. 6d. 
 
 COMPENSATION ACT (THE), 
 1906: Who pays, to whom, to 
 what, and when it 1a applicable. 
 
 By A. Clement Edwards, M.P. Crown 
 8vo, is. net ; cloth, is. 6d. net. 
 
 COMPTON (HERBERT), Novels hy. 
 The Inimitable Mrs. Massing- 
 ham. Crown 9vo, cloth, 31. 6d. ; POPU- 
 LAR Edition, medium 8vo, 6</. 
 
 Crown 8ro, cloth, 6s. each. 
 The Wilful "Way. 
 The Queen can do no Wrong. 
 To Defeat the Ends of Justice. 
 
 COOPER (E. H.), Novels by. 
 
 Crown 3to, cloth, js. 6d. each. 
 Geoffory Hamilton. 
 The Marquis and Pa mela. 
 
 CORNISH (J. F.).— Sour Grapes. 
 
 Crown Rvo. cloth, 6s. 
 
 COLLINS (WILKIE), Novels by. 
 
 Cr. 8vo, cl., 3*. 6d. each j postSvo, picture 
 boards, 2s. each ; cL limp, is. 6d. each. 
 
 Antonina. | Basil. I HidoandSeek 
 
 The Woman in White. 
 
 Ttie Moonstone. | Man and Wife. 
 
 The Dead Secret. | After Dark. 
 
 The Queen of Hearts. 
 
 No Name My Miscellanies. 
 
 Armadale. Poor Miss Finch 
 
 Miss or Mrs? I The Black Robe. 
 
 The Now Magdalen. 
 
 Frozen Deep. | A Rogue's Life. 
 
 The Law and the Lady. 
 
 The Two Destinies. 
 
 The Haunted Hotel. 
 
 The Fallen Leaves. 
 
 Jezebel's Daughter. 
 
 Heart and Science. | *I Say No.' 
 
 The Evil Genius. | Little Novels. 
 
 The Legaoy of Cain. | Blind Love 
 
 C O R N W A L L.— Popular 
 
 Romances of the West of Rowland : 
 
 The Drolls, Traditions, and Superstitions 
 of Old Cornwall Collected bv ROBERT 
 Hunt, F.R.S. With two Plates by 
 George Cruikshank. Cr.Svo, cl., 7?. 6,'t. 
 
 COURT (The) of the Tuileries, 
 
 1832 to 1*70. Bv Le Petit Homme 
 Rouge. With a Frontispiece. Crown 
 8vo, cloth, 7*. 6d. net. 
 
 C^ADDOCK (C. EGBERT), by. 
 The Prophet of the Great Smoky 
 Mountains. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3>i. W.j 
 
 post Svo, illustrated boards, 25. 
 Crown Svo. cloth, 3*. 6d. eich. 
 His Vanishe d Scar Tbe Windfall. 
 
 CRESSVVELL (HENRY). — A 
 
 Lady of Misrule. Crown 8vo, cloth, or. 
 
 CRIM (MATT).— Adventures^of 
 
 a Fair Rebel. Crown 8vo, v. loth, i>. 6d. ; 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2j.
 
 8 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 CROCKETT (S. R.) and others.— 
 
 Talcs of our Coast. By S. K. 
 Crockett, Gilbert Parker, Harold 
 Frederic, 'Q.,'and W.Clare Russell 
 
 Willi 13 Illustrations by FRANK BRAKG- 
 wvx. Crown Rvo. cloth. %s. 6d. 
 
 CROKER (Mrs. B. M.), Novels 
 
 by. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3.1, td. eacli ; 
 
 post 8vo. illustrated boards, 2s. each ; 
 
 cloth limp. 2s. M. each. 
 Pretty Misn Neville. 
 A Bird of Passage. | llr. Jervls. 
 Diana Harrington. 
 Two Masters. i Interference. 
 A Family Likeness. 
 A Third Person. | Proper Pride. 
 Villngo Tate3& Jungle Tragedies. 
 The Real Lady Hilda. 
 Married or Single? 
 In the Kingdom of Kerry: 
 Miss Balmaine's Past. 
 Jason. I Beyond the Pale. 
 
 Terence. With 6 Illusts, by S. Paget. 
 The Ca.t's-paw. With 12 Illustrations 
 
 by Fred Pegram. 
 The Spanish Necklace. With 8 
 
 Illusts.by F. Pegram.— Also a Cheap Ed., 
 
 without Illusts.. picture cover, is. net. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each : post 8vo, 
 cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 Infatuati on. | Some One Else. 
 ' To Let.' Post. 8vo, picture boards, 2s. ; 
 
 cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 Popular Editions, medium 8vo. 6d. each. 
 Proper Pride | The Cat's-paw. 
 Siena Barrington. 
 Pretty Miss Neville. 
 A Bird of Passage. 
 Beyond the Pale. 
 A Family Likeness. 
 Miss Balmaine's Past. 
 
 CROSS (M. B.).— A Question of 
 
 Means. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6.5. 
 
 CRU I KSH AN K'S - COMIC AL- 
 
 MANACK. Complete in TWO Sekiks. 
 The First from 1835 to 1843 ; the 
 Second, from 1844 to 1853. A Catherine 
 of the Best Humour of Thackeray. 
 Hood, Albert Smith, &c. With nu 
 inerous Steel Engravings and Woodcuts 
 by Cruikshank, Landells, &c. Two 
 Vols , crown 8vo, cloth, 7s. fid. each. 
 
 CUM MI NO (C. F. GORDON), 
 
 Works by. Demy 8vo, cloth, 6s. each. 
 In the Hebrides. With 24 Illustrations 
 In the Himalayas and on the 
 
 Indian Plains. With 42 illustrations 
 Two Happy Years In Ceylon. 
 
 With 28 Illustrations. 
 Yla Cornwall to Egypt . Frontis. 
 
 CUSSANSfJOHN E.).— A Hand- 
 
 book of Heraldry; including instruc- 
 tions for Tracing Pedicrees, Deciphering 
 Ancient MSS., &c. With 408 Woodcut"- 
 andaColrd. Plates. Crown 8vo, cloth. 6s 
 
 DANBY (FRANK).— A Coquette 
 
 in Crape. Foolscap 8vo, cloth, iy. ne'. 
 
 DAUDET (ALPHONSE).-The 
 
 I \ -1 ii .eli.st ; or, Port Salvation. 
 
 Cr. Xvo. doth, 3.? 6d. ; p .si 8vo. bds . 2*. 
 
 DAVE NANT (FRANCIS).— hints 
 for Parents on Choice of Profession 
 for their Son.s. Crown Bro, is. 6d 
 
 DA V I DSONl H rC7)T— MrTSad - 
 
 ler's Daughters. Cr. 8vo. cloth. 3.5 M. 
 
 DAV1ES (Dr. N..E. YORKE-), 
 
 Works by. Cr. 8vo. is. ea.: cl.. \s. 6rf. en. 
 On a Thousand Medical Maxims 
 
 and Surgical Hints. 
 Nursery Hints: A Mother's Guide. 
 The Dietetic Cure of Obesity 
 
 (Foods for the Fat). With Chapters 
 
 on the Treatment of Gout by Diet. 
 Aids to Long Life. Crown 8vo, at, ; 
 
 cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 Wine and Health : How to enjoy 
 
 b th. Crown Svo, cloth, is. 6d. 
 
 DEAK1N (DOROTHEA), Stories 
 
 by. Crown 8vo, cloth, 35. (id. each. 
 The Poet and the Pierrot. 
 The Princess & the Kitchen- maid . 
 
 DEFOE (DANIEL). — Robinson 
 
 Crusoe. With 37 Illusts. by GEORGE 
 Cruikshank. Large Type. Fine Paper 
 Edition. Pott 8vo, cloth, gilt top, 2s. net ; 
 leather, gilt edges, 3s. net. 
 
 DEMILLE(JAMES).— AStrange 
 
 Manuscript found in a Copper 
 Cylinder. Crown 8vo, cloth, with 19 
 Illustrations by GILBERT Gaul, 35. td, ; 
 post 8vo. illustrated boards. 2t. 
 
 DEVONSHIRE SCENERY, The 
 
 Historv of. By Arthur W. Clayden, 
 M.A. With Illus.foemy8vo.c!.,lov6rf. rfet. 
 Devon : Its Moorlands, Streams, 
 and Coasts. Bv Lady Rosalind 
 NORTHCOTK. With Illustrations in Three 
 Colours by F. J. Widgery. Large fcap. 
 4(0. cloth, 2ot. net 
 
 DEWAR (T. R.). — A Ramble 
 
 Round the Globe. With 220 Illustra- 
 tions. Crown Svo, cloth, Js. 6d. 
 
 DICKENS (CHARLES), the 
 
 Speeches Of. Edited and Annotated 
 by K. H. Shepherd. With a Portrait. 
 Pott 8vo, cloth. 2j. net ; leather, 3.5. net. 
 The Pocket Charles Dickens: being 
 Favourite Pas-ages chosen by ALFRED 
 11. Hyatt, iomo, cloth, gilt top, 25. net : 
 leather, gilt top, 3*. net. 
 
 DICTIONARIES. 
 
 The Reader's Handbook of 
 Famous Katies in Fiction, 
 Allusions, inferences, Pro- 
 verbs. Piots, Stories, and Poems. 
 By Rev. K. C BREWER, LL.D. Crown 
 8vo. cloth. 3;. 6.1. 
 
 A Dictionary of Miracles, 
 Imitative, Realistic, and Dogmatic. By 
 
 Rev. E. c. Brewer, ll.d. Crown 8vu, 
 
 cloth, is. CJ.
 
 Ill ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, W.C. 
 
 DICTIONARIES— continued. 
 Familiar Allusions. L'y William A. 
 
 and Charles G. Wheeler. Demy 8vo, 
 
 cloth, js. bd. net. 
 Familiar Short Sayings of Great 
 
 Men. With Historical and Explanatory 
 
 Notes by Samuel A. Bent, A.m. Crown 
 
 8vo, cloth, 7$. 6d. 
 The Slang Dictionary: Etymological, 
 
 Historical, and Anecdotal. Crown 8vo, 
 
 cloth, bs. bd. 
 Words, Faots, and Phrases: A 
 
 Dictionary »{ Curious, Quaint, and Out- 
 
 ol'-the-Way Matters By Eliezer 
 
 Edwards. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3.$. bd 
 
 DIXON (WI LLMOTT).— Navels 
 
 by. Crown 8vo, cloth, bs. each. 
 The Rogue of Rye. 
 King Hal — of Heronsea. 
 
 DOBSON (AUSTIN), Works by 
 
 Crown 8vo. buckram, bs. each. 
 Four Frenchwomen. With Fonr 
 
 Portraits. 
 Eighteenth Century Ylgnettes. 
 
 In Three Series, each 6s. ; also Fink- 
 
 paper Editions of the Thkee Series. 
 
 pott 8vo, cloth, 2*. Det each ; leather, 
 
 3.?. net each. 
 A Paladin of Philanthropy, and 
 
 Other Papers. With 2 Illustrations. 
 Side-walk Studies. With 5 IUusts. 
 
 DONOVAN (DICK), Detective 
 
 Stories by. Post 8vo, illustrated 
 
 boards, as. each ; cloth, 2s. 6d. each. 
 Caught at Last. 
 In the Grip of the Lawi 
 Link by Link. 
 
 From Information Received. 
 Suspicion Aroused. 
 Riddles Read. 
 
 Chronicl es of Michael D anavltch. 
 Crown 8vo, ci„ 31. ou. each ; picture cL, 
 
 flat back, 2s. each ; post 8vo. illustrated 
 
 boards, 2s. each j cloth limp, is. td. each. 
 The Man from Manchester. 
 The Myst ery gf Jama ica Terrace. 
 
 Crown !*ro. cloth, 3s. bd. each. 
 
 Deacon Brodie i or, Behind the Mask 
 
 Tyler Ta Uoch, Private Detective. 
 
 Cr. 8vo, cl., is. (\i. ca.TpTct7c!.. flat bk. 2s. ea. 
 
 The Records of Vincent Trill. 
 
 Tales of Terror. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each ; post 8vo, 
 
 Ulustrated boards, is. each; cloth limp, 
 
 2s. bd. each 
 Tracked to Boom. 
 A Detective's Triumphs. 
 Tracked and Taken. 
 "Who Poisoned Hetty Duncan? 
 Crown 8vo. picture cloth, flat back, 2s. each ; 
 
 pctet 8vo, illustrated boards, 2«. each; cloth 
 
 limp, 2s. bd. each. 
 "granted 1 | The Man . Hunter. 
 Dark Deeds, down »vo, cloth limp, 
 
 2s. 6i<. ; picture cloth, flat back, zs. 
 
 DOWLING (RICHARD). — Old 
 
 Corcoran'g Money. Cr. 8vo. cl., 35. bd. 
 
 DOYLE (A. CON AN).— The Firm 
 
 of Glrdlestone. Grown 8vo,cloih. 34. <>d. 
 
 DRAMATISTS, THE OLD. 
 
 Edited by Col. CUNNINGHAM. Cr. Svo, 
 cloth, with Portraits. 3*. bd. per Vol. 
 
 Ben Jonson's 'Works. With Notes, 
 Critical and Explanatory, and a Bio- 
 graphical Memoir by William GlFFORD. 
 Three Vols. 
 
 Chapman's Works. Three Vols. Vol. 
 I. contains the Flay, complete ; Vol. Il„ 
 Poems and Minor 'translations, with an 
 Essay by A. C, Swinburne; Vol. III., 
 Translations of the Iliad and Odyssey. 
 
 Marlowe's Works. One Vol. 
 
 Massingev's Plays. From Gifford's 
 TexL One Vol. 
 
 DUMPY BOOKS (The) for 
 
 Children. Roy. Jjsrno, cloth, is. net ea. 
 
 1. The Flamp, The Ameliorator, 
 and The School-boy's Appren- 
 tice. By E. V. Lucas. 
 
 2. Mrs. Turner's Cautionary 
 Stories. 
 
 3. The Bad Family. By Mrs. 
 Fenwick. 
 
 4. The Story of Little Black 
 Sambo. By Helen Bannerman. 
 Illustrated in colours. 
 
 6. The Bountiful Lady. By Thomas 
 Cobb. 
 
 7. A Flower Book. Illustrated in 
 colours by Nellie Benson. 
 
 8. The Pink Knight. By J. R. Mon- 
 Sell. Illustrated in colours. 
 
 8. The Little Clown. By Thomas 
 Cobb. 
 
 10. A Horse Book. By MarvTourtel. 
 Illustrated in colours. 
 
 11. Little People: an Alphabet. By 
 Henry Mayer and T. W. H. Grosland. 
 Illustrated in colours. 
 
 12. A Dog Book. By Ethel Bicknki.l. 
 With Pictures in colours by Carton 
 Moore Park. 
 
 13. The Adventures of Samuel 
 and Selina. By Jean C archer. 
 Illustrated in colours. 
 
 14. The Little Girl Lost. By Eleanor 
 
 EU'KR. 
 
 15. Hollies. By Richard Hunter. 
 Illustrated in colours by Ruth Cobb. 
 
 16. The Bad Mrs. Ginger. By Honor 
 G. Appleion. illustrated in colours. 
 
 17. Peter Piper's Practical Prin- 
 ciples. Illustrated in colours. 
 
 18. Little White Barbara. By 
 Eleanor March. Illustrated in colours. 
 
 20. Tovj locks and his Wooden 
 Horse. By Alice M. Applktox. 
 Illus. iii colours by Honor C. Applkto."*. 
 
 21. Three Little Foxes. By Mary 
 TOUKTKL. IIlu»trated in colours. 
 
 22. The Old Man's Bag. By T. W. 
 H. CROSLAND. lllus. bv 1. K. MONSELL. 
 
 23. Three Little Goblins. I3y M. 
 G. TACGART. Illustrated in colours. 
 
 25. More Dollies. By Richard Hun- 
 TKR. lllus. in colours by Rum Cobb.
 
 10 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 DUMPY BOOKS— continued. 
 26. Little Yellow Wang-lo. By M. 
 
 C. BELL. Illustrated in colours. 
 28. The Sooty Man. By E. B. 
 Mackinnon and Eden Coybke. Ill us. 
 
 30. riosalina. Illustrated in colours by 
 Jean C. Archer. 
 
 31. Saminy and the Snarlywink. 
 Illustrated in colours by LENA and NOR- 
 MAN AiiLT. 
 
 33. Irena's Christmas Party. By 
 Richard Hunter Jtiiia. by KuthCobb. 
 
 34. The Little Soldier Book. By 
 Jessie Pope. Illustrated in colours by 
 Henry Mayer. 
 
 35. The Dutch Boll's Ditties. By 
 C. Aubrey Moore. 
 
 38. Ten Little Nigger Boys. By 
 Nora Cask. 
 
 37. HumptyDumpty's Little Son 
 Bv Helen K. Cross. 
 
 38. Simple Simon. By Helex R. 
 CROSS. Illustrated in colours. 
 
 39. Tha Little Frenchman. By 
 Eden Coybee. Illustrated in colours by 
 K. T. Fricero. 
 
 40. The Potato Book. By lily 
 SCHOFIELD. Illustrated in colours. 
 
 DUNCAN (SARA JEANNETTE), 
 
 Books by. Cr. 8vo, cloth, 7s. 6<i. each. 
 A Social Departure. With m 
 
 Illustrations by F. H. Townsend. 
 An American Girl in London. 
 
 With 80 Illustrations by F. H. Townsknd. 
 The Simple Adventures of a 
 
 Memsahib. With 37 Illustrations. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each. 
 A daughter of To-Day. 
 Vernon's Aunt. With 47 Illustrations. 
 
 DUTT^ROAIESH C.).— England 
 
 and India: Progress during One 
 Hundred Years. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 
 
 DYSON (EDWARD). — In the 
 
 Roaring Fifties. Crown Svo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 EDWARDES (Mrs. ANNIE), 
 
 Novels by. 
 A Point of Honour. Post Svo, 
 
 Illustrated boards, 2s. 
 Archie Lovell. Crown 8vo, cloth, 
 
 ?.t. t>d. ; post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 A Plaster Saint. Cr. 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. 
 
 EDWARDS (ELIEZER).- 
 
 Words, Facts, and Phrases: A Dic- 
 tionary of Curious, Quaint, and Out-of-the- 
 Way Matters. Crown Svo, cloth, 3s. (id. 
 
 EGERTON (Rev. J. C.).- 
 Sussex Folk and Sussex Ways. 
 
 With Four lUusts. Crown 8vo, cloth, 5s. 
 
 EGGLESTON (EDWARD).— 
 
 Roxy. Post Svo, illustrated boards, zs. 
 
 ENGLISHMAN (An) in Paris: 
 
 Recollections of Louis Philippe and th< 
 Empire. Crown Svo, cloth, 3s 61/. 
 
 E PI ST O L/C OBSCUROKUM 
 
 Virorum (1515-1517). Latin Text, 
 with Translation, introduction, Notes, 
 &c, by E.G. STOKES. Royal Svo, buck- 
 ram, 25s. net. 
 
 EVERYMAN : A Morality. 
 
 Printed on pure rag paper, with Illus- 
 trations by Ambrose Dudley. Fcap. 
 4to, decorated cloth, red lop, 25. (id. net. 
 
 EYES, Our: How to Preserve 
 
 Them. By JOHN Browning. Crown 
 8vo, cloth, is. 
 
 FAIRY TALES FROM 
 
 TUSCANY. By Isabella M. Ander- 
 ton. Square i6mo. cloth, with Frontis- 
 piece, is. net. 
 
 FAMILIAR ALLUSIONS: Mis- 
 cellaneous Information, including Cele- 
 brated Statues, Paintings, Palaces, 
 Country Seats, Ruins, Churches, Ships, 
 Streets, Clubs, Natural Curiosities, &c. 
 By W. A. and C. G. Wheeler. Demy 
 8to. cloth. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 FAMILIAR SHORT SAYINGS 
 
 of Great JVUn. By S. A. Bent, A.M. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, "js. 6d. 
 
 FARADAY (MICHAEL), Works 
 
 by. Post 8vo, clothjdj. 6d. each. 
 
 The Chemical History of a 
 Candle : Lectures delivered before a 
 Juvenile Audience. Edited by William 
 Crookes. F.C.S. With numerous Illusts. 
 
 On the Various Forces of Nature, 
 and their Relations to each 
 other. Edited bv William Crookes, 
 F.C.S. With Illustrations. 
 
 FARRAR (F.W., D.D.).— Ruskin 
 
 as a Rellgleus Teacher. Square 
 lutno, cloth, with Froutttp i cce, i s. net 
 
 ANSON^War: 
 
 Crown Svo. cloth, is. M. 
 
 FARRER" (J. 
 
 Three Es«ays. 
 
 FENN (G. MANVILLE), Novels 
 
 by. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each; 
 
 post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 The New Mistress. 
 Witness to the Deed. 
 Tha Tiger Lily. 
 The Whi te Ylrgln. 
 
 Crown Svo. cloth, 3s. 6<2. each. 
 A Woman Worth Winning. 
 Cursed by a Fortune. 
 The Case of Ailsa Gray. 
 Commodore Junk. 
 Black Blood. | In Jeopardy. 
 Double Cunning. 
 A Fluttered Dovecote. 
 King of the Caatlo. 
 The Master of the Ceremonies. 
 The Story of Antony Grace. 
 The Man with a Shadow. 
 One Maid's Mischief. 
 This Man's "Wife. 
 The Bag of Diamonds, and Three 
 
 Bits of Paste. 
 Running Amok.
 
 Ill ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, W.C. 
 
 II 
 
 FENN (G. MANV1LLB)— continued. 
 Crown 8vo. cloth, 6s, each. 
 
 Black Shadows. 
 The Cankerwornt. 
 So Like a Woman. 
 
 A Crimson Crime. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 ?s. 6rfi ; picture cloth, flat back, 2s. 
 
 FICTION, a Catalogue of, with 
 
 Descriptions and Reviews of nearly 
 Twelve Hundred Novels, will be 
 sent free by Chatto & Windus upon 
 application. 
 
 FIREWORK - MAKING, The 
 
 Complete Art cf; or, The Pyrotechnist': 
 Treasury. By Thomas Kentish. Will; 
 267 Illustrations. Cr. Svo, cloth, 3s. 6d. 
 
 FISHER (ARTHUR O.), Novels 
 
 by. Crown Svo, cloth, 6s. each. 
 Withyford. With Coloured Fronti?- 
 
 piece by G. D. Armour, and 5 Plates in 
 
 sepia by R. H. Buxton. 
 The Land of Silent Feet. With a 
 
 Frontispiece by G. D. ARMOUR. 
 
 FITZGERALD (PERCY), by. 
 
 Fatal Zero. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. bd. ; 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, is. each. 
 Bella Donna. | Polly. 
 The Lady of Brantome. 
 Never Forgotten. 
 The Second Mrs. TUlotson. 
 Seventy-five Brooke Street. 
 
 FLAMMARION (CAM1LLE).— 
 Popular Astronomy. Translated 
 by ]. Ellard Gore, K.R.A.S. With Three 
 Plates and 288 Illustrations. A New- 
 Edition, with an Appendix giving the 
 results of Recent Discoveries. Medium 
 8vo, cloth, ioj. (id. 
 
 FLORENCE PRESS BOOKS.— 
 
 For information as to this important 
 Scries, printed from a new type designed 
 by Hekrf.rt P. Horne,' n«w first 
 engraved, see special Proipectus. 
 
 FORBES (Hon. Mrs. WALTER)" 
 
 — Dumb. Crown 8m cloth, 35. 6'1. 
 
 FRANCILLON (R. E.), Novels 
 
 by. Crown Svo, cloth, 35. (>,'. each ; post 
 8vo, illustrated boards, 2.?. each. 
 
 One by One I A Real Queen. 
 A Dog and hia Shadow. 
 Ropes of Sand. With Illustrations. 
 
 Post Svo, Illustrated boards, 2,5. each. 
 Romances of the Law. 
 King or Knave? | Olympla. 
 
 Jack Doyle's Daughter. Crown Svo, 
 cloth, 3.?. <h.\ 
 
 FRANCO - BRITISH EXHIBI- 
 TION Illustrated Review (The), 
 1908. A Complete Souvenir of the Ex- 
 hibition. Profusely illustrated. Edited 
 by F. G. Dumas. Large folio, pictorial 
 cover, 6s. net; cloth, y.s. 6d. net. Also 
 the Edition de Luxe, punted on fine-art 
 paperand in a special binding, ros6rf.net. 
 
 FREDERIC (HAROLD), Novels 
 
 by. Post Svo, cloth, 3$. 6d. each ; 
 
 illustrated boards, 2?. each. 
 Eeth's Brother's Wife. 
 The Lawton Girl. 
 
 FREEMAN (R. AUSTIN).— John 
 Thorndyke's Cases. Illustrated dv H. 
 M, Brock, and from Photographs. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3.5. 6d. net. 
 
 FRY'S (HERBERT) Royal 
 Guide to the London Charities. 
 Edited by John Lane. Published 
 Annually. Crown 8vo, cioth, is. 6d. 
 
 GARDENING BOOKS. Post Svo, 
 
 is', each j cloth, is. 6d. each. 
 A Year's Work in Garden and 
 
 Greenhouse. By George gi.enny. 
 Household Horticulture. By Tom 
 
 and Jane Jerrold. Illustrated. 
 The Garden that Paid the Rent. 
 
 By Tom Jerroi.d. 
 Our Kitchen Garden. By Tom 
 
 Jerrold . Post Svo. clot h, is net. 
 Sir William Temple upon tho 
 Gardens of Epicurus ; together 
 
 with, other XVIIth Century Garden 
 Essays. Edited. with Notes and Introduc- 
 tion, by A. Forbes Sikvekixg, F.S.A. 
 With 6 Illustrations. Small Svo, cloth 
 or boards, is. 6\i. net ; quarter vellum, 
 is. 6d. net : three-quarter vellum, 5*. net. 
 
 GAULOT (PAUL), Books by. 
 
 Tha Red Shirts: A Tale of 'The 
 Terror.' Translated by JOHN DE VlL- 
 LlERS. Crown Svo, cloth, with Frontis- 
 piece by Stanley Wood, 3s. 6d. ; picture 
 cloth, flat back, zs. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. each. 
 
 Love and Lovers of the Past. 
 Translated by C. LaROCHE, M.A. 
 
 A Conspiracy under thn Terror. 
 Translated by C. Laroche, M.A. With 
 Illustrations and Facsimiles. 
 
 GERMAN POPULAR STORIES. 
 
 Collected by the Brothers Grimm and 
 Translated by Edgar Tayi ok. With 
 Introduction by John RDSKIN, and 12 
 Steel Plates after George CruiKSHANK, 
 Square Svo, cloth gilt. 6s. 
 
 GIBBON (CHARLES), Novels 
 
 by. Crown Svo, elo'h. 3*. 6d. each; 
 
 post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 Robin Gray. 
 Tha Golden Shaft. 
 Tho Flower of tha Forest* 
 Tho Braes of Yarrow. 
 Of High Degrea. 
 Queen of the Meadow,
 
 12 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 GIBBON (CHARLES)— ro'/Z/Wd. 
 
 I'. >st Svo, Illustrated boards, 21. each. 
 For Lack of Gold. 
 What Will the World Say? 
 For the King. | A Hard Knot. 
 In Pastures Green. 
 In Love and War. 
 A Heart's Problem. 
 I'y Mead and Stream, 
 Fancy Free. | Loving a Dream. 
 In Honour Bound. 
 Heart's Delight. | Blood-Money. 
 The Dead Heart. Post Bvo, illustrated 
 
 boards, is. ; Popular Editiox, mediun 
 
 Svo, (>d. 
 
 GERARD (DOROTHEA).— A 
 
 Queen of Curds and Cream. Crown 
 8vo. cloth, 3.S. 6d. 
 
 GTl3 N E Y (SOMERVILLE 4 ). — 
 
 Sentenced I Crown Svo. cloth, I*. 6d. 
 
 GIBSON (L. 5.), Novels by. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, 6s. eich. 
 The Freemasons. | Burnt Spicks. 
 
 Ships of De sire 
 
 The Freemasons. Cneap Ei (ion, 
 picture cover, is. net. 
 
 GILBERT (WILLIAM).— James 
 
 Duke, Costermonger. Post8vo, illus- 
 trated hoards, 2s. 
 
 GILBERT'S (W. S.) Ori??nftl 
 
 Plays. In3Series. Fine-Paper Edii ion, 
 Pott Svo, cloth, gilt top, is. net each ; 
 leather, gilt edges, 3s. net each. 
 
 The First Series contains : The Wicked 
 World — Pygmalion and Galatea — 
 Charity— The Princess— The Palace of 
 Truth— Trial by Jury— Iolanthe. 
 
 The Second Series contains : Broken 
 Hearts — Engaged — Sweethearts — 
 Gretchen — Dan'l Druce— Tom Cobb 
 — H.M.S. 'Pinafore' — The Sorcerer— 
 The Pirates of Penzance. 
 
 The Third Series contains: Comedv and 
 Tragedy— Foggerty's Fairy — Rosen- 
 era ntz and Guildenstern— Pativnce— 
 Princess Ida— The Mikado— Ruddigore 
 —The Yeomen of the Guard— The Gon- 
 doliers—The Mountebanks— Utopia. 
 
 Bight Original Comic Operas 
 
 written by W. S. GlLlSKKT. Two Series, 
 demy 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. net each. 
 
 The First Series contains: The Sorcerei 
 — H.M.S. 'Pinafore'— The Pirates of 
 Penzance — Iolanthe — Patience— Prin- 
 cess Ida -The Mikado— Trial by Jurv. 
 
 The SECOND SERIES contains: The Gon- 
 doliers—The Grand Duke— The Yeomen 
 of the Guard— His Excellency— Utopia, 
 Limited— Ruddigore— The Mountebanks 
 — Haste to the Wedding. 
 
 The Gilbert and Sullivan Birth- 
 day Book: Quotations for Every Day 
 in the Year. Compiled by A. Watson*. 
 Roval 161110, eloth, 2r. (id. 
 
 Gl SS rNQ (ALGE RNON), Novels 
 
 by. Crown Svo, cl"th. gilt top, 6s. each 
 
 A Secret of ths North Sea. 
 
 GISS1NU (ALGERNON)— continued. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth (is. each. 
 Knitters in the Sun. 
 The Wealth of Malleratang. 
 An Angel's Portion. 
 Baliol Garth. 
 
 The Dreams of Simon Usher. 
 
 Crown Svo. cloth, 3s. nrf. 
 
 G L A N V ILUeTERNEST), Novels 
 
 by. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 posl Svo. illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 The Lost Heiress. With 2 Illustra- 
 tions by Hume Nishet. 
 
 The Fossicker: A Romance of Mash- 
 onaland. Two lllusts. by Hume Nisbet. 
 
 A Fair Col onist. With Frontispiece. 
 Crown 8vo. cloth, 3s. dd. each. 
 
 The Golden Rock. With Frontispiece 
 bv Stanley Wood. 
 
 Tales from the Veld. With 12 lllusts. 
 
 Max Thornton. With 8 Illustrations 
 
 by 1. S. C rompTON, R.I. 
 
 GLEN NY (GEORGE).— A Year's 
 
 Work in Garden and Greenhouse: 
 
 Practical Advice as to Flower, Fruit, and 
 I ■< o ne Garden. Post 8vo. is. : cl.. It h,t 
 
 GODWIN (WILLIAM). — Lives 
 
 of t he N ecroma ncers. Post Svo, cl. 21. 
 
 G L DEN T REASURY of 
 
 Thought, The : A Dictionary of Quo- 
 tations from the IJest Authors. Pv 
 Theodore Taylor. Cr. Svo, cl.. 3?. <>,i 
 
 GOODMAN (E. J.)— The Fate of 
 
 Herbert Wnyne. Cr. Svo cl.. 35. (vi. 
 
 G R DON (SAMUEL). — The 
 Ferry of Fute : a Tale of Russian 
 Jewry. Crown Svo, cloth, 6.t. 
 
 GORE (J. ELCaRD, F.R.A.S.).— 
 
 Astronomical Curiosities. With two 
 illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth. 6s. net. 
 
 GRACE (ALFRED A.).— Tales 
 
 of a Dyln? Ra ce. Cr. 8vo, cl.. 3t (id 
 
 GREEKS AND ROMANSfThe 
 
 Life of the, described from Antiqus 
 Monuments. Py Ernst Guhi. and W 
 KONER. Edited bv Dr. F. Huekfek' 
 
 With 545 IUusts. Demy 8vo, cl.. js. td. 
 
 GREEN (ANNA KATHARINE), 
 
 Novels by. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. each 
 The Millionaire Baby. 
 The Wo man lr> t ho Atoove. 
 The 
 
 Ametuyst 
 
 cloth. 3^. t>d. 
 
 liOA. Crown 8vo, 
 
 GREENWOOD (JAMES).— The 
 
 Prisoner in the Dock. Crown Svo, 
 
 cloth, 3.5. (vi. 
 
 GREY (Sir~GEORGE). —The 
 
 Romanes of a Proconsul. By James 
 Mil XI' Crown 8vo, buckram, ft.t 
 
 GRIFFITH (CECIL,. -Corinthia 
 
 Alarnzion. < 1 ■■>wn Svo. rlo'h i.e. ud. 
 
 GRIFFITHSTMajorA.).— NoT^ 
 
 and LJIue blood. Ciown Svo, cloth, is.
 
 Ill ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, W.C. 
 
 13 
 
 OUNTER (A. CLAVERING).— A 
 
 Florida Enchantment. Crown Svo, 
 cloth, 3 1. 6,7. 
 
 QUTTENBERQ (VIOLET), 
 
 Novels by. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. each. 
 Neither Jew nor Greek. 
 The Power of the Palmist. 
 
 GYP. — CLOCLO. 
 
 Nora M. statham. 
 
 Translated by 
 Cr. 8vo, ci.. %<. bd 
 
 HABBERTON (JOHN).-Helen's 
 
 Babies. With Coloured Frontispiece 
 
 and Co Illustrations by Eva Rood. Fcap. 
 4to, cloth, 6s. 
 
 HAIR, The: Its Treatment in 
 
 Health, Weakness, and Disease. 
 
 Translated from the German of Dr. J. 
 Pincus. Crown Svo. u. : cloth, r.t. firf. 
 
 HAKE (L)r. T. GORDON), Poems 
 
 by. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. each. 
 New Symbols. 
 Legends of the Morrow. 
 The Serpent Pl ay. 
 Ma iden Bcetasy. Small $to, cloth. 8.t. 
 
 H ALL (MrsTS. C.).— Sketches 
 
 of Irish Character. With Illustra- 
 tions on Steel and Wood by Crijik 
 SHANK, Maclise, Gilbert, and Harvev. 
 
 Dtmr Rvn clolh. 7». M. 
 
 HA LL (OWEN), Novels by. 
 The Track of a Storm. Crown 8vo, 
 
 rW'-rirre cloth, flat b.ick, 2s. 
 Jetsam. Crown 8vo, cloh. 33. bd. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth. <m. each. 
 Eureka . i He rnari rl o. 
 
 HALLIDAY (ANDREW>- 
 
 Every-day Papers. Post 8vo, illus- 
 trated boards, is 
 
 HAMILTON i,COSMd)Tl5loHes 
 
 by. 
 The Glamour of the Impossible; 
 
 and Through a Keyhole. Crown 
 
 Svo, cloth 3* (id. 
 
 Crown Rvo, cloth. 6s, each. 
 Nature's Vagabond, &c. 
 Plain Brown. 
 
 HANDWRITING, The Philo- 
 
 sophy of. With over ioj Facsimiles. 
 Bv Do* Felix de Saiamanca. Post 
 Svo. half-cloth, tt. 6d. 
 
 H A ROY (IZA DUFFUS), Novels 
 
 by. Crown Svo clolh, 6s. each. 
 The Looser Evil. 
 Man, Woman, and Fate. 
 
 A Butterfly. ___ 
 
 HARDY (THOMAS). — Under 
 
 th« Greenwood Tree. Post 8vo, cloth. 
 3$. bd. ; illustrated b ^ards, zs. ; cloth 
 limp, is. bd. Also the Fink Papv.h 
 EDITION, pott 8vo, doth, pit top, is. net ; 
 leather, gilt edges. ?j. net ; and the Cheap 
 Edition medium «vo.iW 
 
 HARKINS (E. F.i.— The Schem- 
 
 eri. Crown Svo, clolh, 64. 
 
 HARRIS (JOEL CHANDLER), 
 
 Books by. $ 
 Uncle Remus. With 9 Coloured and 
 
 50 other Illustrations by J. A. SHEPHERD. 
 
 Pott 4to cloth. pi!t top, 6s. 
 Nights with Uncle Remus. With 
 
 8 Colourt d and 50 other Illustrations by 
 
 J. A. SHEPHERD. Impe rial i6mo. cloth, 6s. 
 
 HARTE'S (BRET) Collected 
 
 Works. LIBRARY EDITION, in Ten 
 Volumes, crown Svo, cloth, 6s. each. 
 Vol. I. Complete Poetical and 
 Dramatic Works. With Port. 
 „ II. The Luck of Roaring Camp- 
 Bohemian Papers— American 
 Legends. 
 „ III. Talks ok the Argonauts — 
 
 Eastern Sketches. 
 „ IV. Gabriel Conroy. 
 „ V. Stories — Condensed Novels. 
 „ VI. Tales of the Pacific Slope. 
 „ VII. Tales of the Pacific Slope -I I. 
 With Portrait bv John Pettie. 
 „ VIII. Tales of Pine and Cypress. 
 „ IX. Buckeye and Chapparkl. 
 X. T alks of T rail and Town. 
 
 Bret Harte's Choice Works in Prose 
 snd Verse. With Portrait and 40 Illus- 
 trations. Crown Svo, cloth, ?s. 6d. 
 
 Bret Harte's Poetical Works, in- 
 cluding Some Later Verses. Crown 
 8vo, buckram, 4s. 6d. 
 
 In a Hollow of the Kills. Crown 
 8vo. picture cloth, flat back, 25. 
 
 Condensed Novels. (Two Series in 
 One Volume.) Pott Svo, cloth, gilt top, 
 zs. net ; leather, gilt edges, 3.?. net. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. each. 
 On the Old Trail. 
 Under the Redwoods. 
 From Sandhill to Pine. 
 Stories in L'ght and Shadow. 
 Mr. Jack Hamlin's Mediation. 
 Trent's Trust. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth. 3*. 6d. each ; post 8vo, 
 
 illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 Gabriel Couroy. 
 
 A Waif of the Plains. With 60 Illus- 
 trations by Stanley L. Wood. 
 A Ward of the Golden Gate. With 
 
 59 Illustrations bv Stani.ky L. WOOD. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3i6rf each. 
 
 Susy. With 2 Musts, bv J. A. Christie. 
 
 The Bell-Ringer of Angel's, &c. 
 With 30 Ulusts. by Dudley HARDY, H,c. 
 
 Clarenoo : A Story of the American War, 
 Wit hs Illustrations by A. Iule Goodman. 
 
 Barker's Luck, Sec With 30 Illustra- 
 tions, by a. korkstier, Paul Hardy, &c. 
 
 Devil's Fori. ftc. 
 
 The Crueade of the 'Excelsior.' 
 With Front is. bvj. Bkknard Partrii •(,!•:. 
 
 Tales of Trail and Town. With 
 Frontispiece by G. P. Jacomb- HOOD. 
 
 Condensed Novels. New s.-ries. 
 
 Three Partners; or, The Bit* 
 Strike on Heavy Tree Hill. 
 With 8 Illustrations by J. Gui.kii. Also 
 the Cheap Edition, medium Svo, 6d.
 
 14 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 HARTG (BRET)-«»/(/ik«. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, $s. bd. each ; picture cloth, 
 flat back, 2s. each. 
 A Sappho of Green Springs. 
 Colonel Starbottle's Client. 
 A Protfegee of Jack Hamlin's. 
 
 With numerous Illustrations. 
 Sally Bows, £x. With 47 Illustrations 
 by \V. D. ALMOND and others. 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, is. each. 
 The Luck of Roaring Camp, rind 
 Sensation Novelci Condensed. 
 
 (Also in picture cloth at same price.) 
 An Heiress of Red Dog. 
 The Luck of Roaring Camp. 
 Californian Stories. 
 
 Post 8vo, illus. bds., 2.?. each : cloth, is. bd. each . 
 Flip. I A Phyllis of the Sierras. 
 
 Maruja. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. bd. ; post 
 Svo, pictu re boards, 2s. : cloth limp, is. bd. 
 
 HAWETs (Mrs. H. R.), Books by. 
 
 The Art of Dress. With 32 lustra- 
 tions. Post 8vo, r.t. ; clofh, Is. bd. 
 
 Chancer for Schools. With Frontis- 
 piece. Demy gvo, cloth, 2s. bd. 
 
 Chancer for Children. With 8 
 Coloured Plates and 30 Woodcuts. 
 Crown 4to, cloth, 3 c. bd. 
 
 HAWEIS (Rev. H. R.).— Ameri- 
 can Htinioflits: Washington 
 Irving, Oliver Wendell Holmes, 
 James Russell Lowell, Artemtjs 
 Ward, Mark Twain, and Bret Harte. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, bs. 
 
 HAWTHORNE (JULIAN), 
 
 Novels by. Crown Svo, cloth, 3s. bd. 
 
 each; post 8vo.ilIuKtrated boards, is. each. 
 Garth. | Kllico Quentin. 
 Fortune's Fcol. | Bust. Four Illusts. 
 Beatrix Randolph . With Four musts. 
 D. Poindexter's Disappearance. 
 The Spectre of the Camera. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cio'.b. 3s. bd. each. 
 Sebastian Stroma. 
 
 XiO\re— or a Name. 
 
 Miss Cadogna. Post Svo, illustrated 
 boards, zs. 
 
 HEALY (CHRLSi, Books by. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, bs. each. 
 Confessions of a Journalist. 
 Heirs of Reuben. 
 Mara. 
 
 The Endless Heritage. Crown 8vo 
 cloth, 3s. bd. 
 
 HELPS (Sir ARTHUR). — Ivan 
 
 de Biron. Crown Svo, cloth 3j. bd. 
 post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 HENTY (Q. A.), Novels by. 
 Rujub, the Juggler. Post 8vo, cloth 
 3s. bd. ; illustrated boards, 2s. 
 Crown Svo, cloth, 3s. bd. each. 
 The Queen's Cup. 
 Dorothy's Double. 
 Colonel Thorndyke'B Secrat. 
 
 HENDERSON (ISAAC).— Agatha 
 
 Page. Crown Svo, cloth, 31. bd. 
 
 HERBERTSON (JESSIE L.).- 
 
 Junta. Crown Svo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 HERMAN (HENRY).— A Leading 
 
 Lady. Post Svo cloth, ts. bd. 
 
 HILL (HEADON).— Zambra tbe 
 
 Detective. Crown Svo, cloth, 3?. bd. ; 
 picture cloth, flat back, zs. . 
 
 HILL (JOHN), Works by. 
 
 Trea30n-Felcny. Post Svo, illustrated 
 
 boards, 2s. 
 The Common Ancestor. Crown 
 
 8vo, cloth, 35. bd. 
 
 HINKSON (H. A.), Novels by. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 6c. each. 
 Fan Fitzgerald. I Silk and Stool. 
 
 HOEY (Mrs. CASHED.— The 
 Lover's Creed. Crown 8vo, cloth, 
 3s. bd. 
 
 HOFFMANN (PROFESSOR).— 
 
 Kinj ICoko. A Ma^ic Story. With 25 
 Illustrations. Crown Svo, cloth, ts. net. 
 
 HOLIDAY, Where to go for a. 
 
 By E. P. Sholl, Sir H. Maxwell, John 
 Watson, Jane Barlow, Mary Lovett 
 Cameron, Justin H. McCarthy, Paul 
 Lange, J. W. Graham, J. H. Salter, 
 Phot.be Allen, S. J. Beckett, L. Rivers 
 Vine, and C F. Gordon Cumming. 
 Crown Svo, cloth, is. bd. 
 
 HOLMES (C. J., M. A.).— Notes 
 on the Science of Picture-making-. 
 
 With Photogravure Frontispiece. Demy 
 8vo, cloth, Js. bd. net. 
 
 HOLMES (O. WENDELL).— 
 The Autocrat of the Breakfast- 
 Table. Illustrated bv J. Gordon 
 Thomson. Fine Paper' Edition, pott 
 8vo, cloth, gilt top, 2s. net.; leather, gitt 
 cd£es. 3i.net. 
 
 HOOD'S (THOMAS) Choice 
 Works In Prose and Verse. W:;i> 
 Life of the Author, Portrait, and 200 
 Illustrations. Crown Svo, cloth, 3* bd. 
 
 HOOK'S (THEODORE) Choice 
 
 Humorous Works; including his Ludi- 
 crous Adventures, Bons Mots, Puns, 
 Hoaxes. With Life and Frontispiece. 
 Crown Svo, cloth, 3.S. bd. 
 
 HOPKINS (TIQHE), Novels by. 
 
 For Freedom. Crown 3vo, cloth, 61. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. bd. each. 
 'Twixt Dove and Doty. 
 The Incomplete Adventnrer. 
 The Nugents of Carriconna. 
 Nell Haffenden. With S Illustrations. 
 
 HORNE (R. HENG1ST).— Orion. 
 
 With Portrait. Crown. Svo, cloth, 7*.
 
 HI ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, V/.C. 
 
 15 
 
 HORNIMAN (ROY), Novels by 
 
 Crown o\'o, cloth, 6c. each. 
 Bellamy the ftlntfrtiiiceni. 
 Lord. Camtnarleig'fa'a Secret. 
 
 Israel Rank; Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. 
 
 INCHBOLD (A. C), The Road of 
 
 NoTgeturn. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 HORNUNG (E. W.), Novels by. 
 
 The Shadow of the Rope. Crown 
 Svo, cloth, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, 6s. each. 
 tingarae. 1 A Thief in the Night. 
 
 HUGO (VICTOR).— The Outlaw 
 
 of Iceland. Translated by Sir Gilbert 
 Campbell. Crown Svo, cloth, js. 6d 
 
 HUME (FERGUS), Novels by. 
 
 The Lady Prom Nowhere. Cr.*8vo, 
 
 cloth, 34. 6d.\ picture cloth, Hat back, 2s- 
 
 The Millionaire Mystery. Crown 
 
 Svo. cloth, it. f>d. 
 The WheeitnjJ Light. Crown 3vo, 
 cloth, pilt top. us. 
 
 INDOOR PAUPERS. By One of 
 
 THEM. Crown Svo, is. ; cloth, Is. 6d. 
 
 HUNGERFORD (Mrs.), Novels 
 
 by. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each; 
 
 cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each. 
 The Professor's Experiment. 
 Nova Crelna. 
 Lady Verner'a Flight. 
 Lady Patty. | Jeter's Wife. 
 The Red-Mouse Mystery. 
 An Unsatisfactory Lover. 
 April's Lady. 
 A Maiden All Forlorn. 
 The Three Graces. 
 A Mental Struggle. 
 Marvel. | A Modern Circa 
 
 In Durance Vile. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth. 3,-. 6d. each. 
 An Anxioua Moment. 
 A Point of Conscience. 
 The Comin g of Ch loe. | Lovice 
 
 The Red-House Mystery. Populai; 
 Edition, medium Svo, 6d. 
 
 IN MAN (HERBERT) and 
 
 HARTLEY ASPDEN.— The Tear of 
 
 Kalee. Crown 8vo, clo th, gilt top, 6s. 
 
 INNKEEPER'S HhaNDBOOK 
 
 (The) and Licensed Victualler's 
 Manual. By J. Trevor-Davies. 
 Crow n Svo, cloth, 2s. 
 
 IRVING~WASHINGTON).— Old 
 
 Christmas. Square i6mo, cloth, with 
 Frontispiece, is. net. 
 
 JAMES (C. T. C.).— A Romance of 
 
 the Queen's Hounds. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth, is. 6d. 
 
 JAMES (G. W.). — Scragg-les: 
 
 The 5tory of a Sparrow. With 6 
 Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth, 25. 6d. 
 
 J A MESO"N~(WILLIAAi).— My 
 
 Dead Self. Post Svo. cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 JAPP 
 
 Pict! 
 
 Dr. 
 
 res. 
 
 A. H.), 
 
 Crown Svo, 
 
 —Dramatic 
 
 cloth, "vs. 
 
 HUNT (Airs. ALFRED), Novels 
 
 by. Crown Svo, cloth, ;s. 6d. each ; nost 
 Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 The Leaden Casket. 
 
 Self-Condemned. 
 
 That Other Person. 
 
 Mrs. Julie t. CrowiTs vo, cloth, 3^. 6d. 
 
 HUTCHINSON (W. M.> — HliTtS 
 
 on Colt- Breaking. With 25 Illustra- 
 tions. Crown 8vo, clo th. 3?. 6rf. 
 
 HYAMSON (ALBERT).— A His- 
 tory of the Jews In England. With 
 
 16 Portraits and Views and 2 Maps. 
 Demv Svo. cloth, 4*. <v/. net. 
 
 HYATT (A. H.), Topographical 
 
 Anthologies by. Pott 8vo, cloth, gilt 
 top, zs. net each ; leather, gilt edges, 
 35. net each. 
 
 The Charm of London. 
 
 The Charm of Edinburgh, 
 
 The Charm of Venice. 
 
 The Charm of Paris. 
 
 JEFFERIES (RICHARD), by. 
 
 The Life of the Fields. Post 8vo, 
 cloth, 2s. 6d. ; Large Type, Fine Paper 
 Edition, pott Svo, cloth, gilt too, 2s. net ; 
 leather, gilt edges, 31. net. Also a New 
 Edition, with 12 Illustrations in Colours 
 by M. U. Clarke, crown Svo, cloth, $s. 
 net ; parchment, 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 The Open Air. Post 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.; 
 Larue Type Fine Paper Edition, pott 
 8vo, cloth, gilt top, 2s. net : leather, gilt 
 edges, 3s. net. Also a New Edition, 
 wiih 12 Illustrations in Colours by Ruth 
 Doll.man, crown Svo, cloth, 5*. net ; 
 parchment, js. 6d. net. 
 
 Nature near London. Crown 8vo, 
 buckram, bs. ; post Svo, cl., 2s. 6d. ; Large 
 Type, Fine Paper Edition, pott 8vo, cl., 
 gilt top, 25. net ; leather, gilt edges, 35.net. 
 Also a New Edition, with 12 Illus- 
 trations in Colours by Ruth Dollman, 
 crown Svo, cloth, 55. net ; parchment, 
 "]s. 6d. net. 
 
 The Pocket Richard Jefferles: 
 
 being Passages chosen from the Nature 
 Writings oi JeFFERILS by ALFRED H. 
 Hyatt. i6mo, cloth, gilt top, 2s. net.; 
 leather, gilt too. 3.5 net. 
 The Eulogy of Richard JefTeries. 
 By b:r Walter Besa.mt. Cr. Svo, cl., 6*. 
 
 JEROME (JEROME K.).— Stage- 
 land. With 64 Illustrations by J. Ber- 
 nard Partridge. Fcap. <tto, it. 
 
 JERROLD (TOM), Works by. 
 
 Post Svo, is. each ; cloth, «. 60, each 
 The Garden that Paid the Rent. 
 Household Horticulture. 
 
 Our Kitchen Garden: The PlantsWe 
 Grow, and How We Cook Them. Post 
 Svo, cloth, is. net.
 
 16 
 
 CIIATTO & WINDUS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 JOHNSTON (R.).— The Peril of 
 
 an Hmpire. Crown 8vo, cloth, bs. 
 
 JONES - "(WILLIAM, F.S.A.). 
 
 —Finger-Ring Lore: Historical, Le- 
 gendary, and Anecdotal. With numerous 
 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3.1. bd. 
 
 J0NS0N'5 (BEN) Works. With 
 
 Notes and Biographical Memoir by 
 William Gieeord. Edited by Colonel 
 CUNNINGHAM* Three Vols, crown 8vo, 
 cloth, 31. bd. each. 
 
 JOSEPHUS, The Complete 
 
 Works of. Translated by William 
 WHISTON. Containing ' Tlie Antiquities 
 of the Jews,' and "The Wars of the Jews. 
 With 52 Illustrations and Maps. Two 
 Vols., demy 8vo, half-cloth, 12s. bd. 
 
 KEATING (JOSEPM).-Maurice. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cluih, bs. 
 
 KEMPL1NG (W. BAILEY).— The 
 Poets Royal 0/ England and Scot- 
 land : Oiig.nal Poems by Royal and 
 Noble Persons. With Notes and b Photo- 
 gravure Portraits. Small 8vo, parchment, 
 bs. net ; vellum, 7j. bd. net. Also an 
 Edition in THE Kino'9 Classics (No. 39). 
 
 KERSHAW (MARK).— Colonial 
 
 Facts and Fictions: Humorous 
 Sketches. Post 8vo, illustrated boards. 
 2s. ; cloth, as. bd. 
 
 KING (LEONARD W., M.A.).- 
 
 A History of Babylonia and Assyria 
 from the Earliest Times until the 
 Persian Conquest. v/nh Maps, 
 Plans, and lllusliations atter all tbt 
 principal Moiiuments of the Period. In 
 3 volumes, royal 8vo, buckram. Each 
 volume separately, ifts.net; or per set ol 
 3 volumes, if subscribed for befoie the 
 issue of Vol. I., £2 ios. net. 
 Vol. I.— A History of Burner and 
 Akkad: An account of the Primi- 
 tive Inhabitants of Babylonia from 
 the Earliest Times to about B.C. 2000. 
 „ II.— A History of Babylon from 
 the Knst Dynasty, about B.C. 2000, 
 until the Conquest by Cyrus, B.C. 531;. 
 „IH— A History of Assyria from 
 the Earlast Period until the Fall ol 
 Nineveh, B.C. 6o5. {Preparing 
 
 KING (R. ASHE), Novels by. 
 
 Post 8vo. illustrated boards. 2s. 
 'The Wearing of the Green.' 
 Passion's Clave. | Bell Barry. 
 
 A Drawn Game. Crown 8vo, cloth. 
 3*. bd. ; post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 KINGS AND QUEENS OF ENG- 
 LAND. Bv K. G. Ritchie and Basil 
 PkociiiR. With 43 Illustrations. Small 
 demy Jjvo, is. net. 
 
 KING'S CLASSICS (The). 
 
 General Editor, Professor I. GoLl.ANCZ, 
 Litt.D. Plinted on laid paper, 161110, 
 each with Frontispiece, jjilt top. Quar- 
 ter bound grey boards or red cloth, 
 is. bd. net each ; quarter vellum, cloth 
 9ides, 2s. bd. net each ; threc-quarler 
 vellum, 5 s. net each. 
 Volumes new in course 0/ puili cation: 
 
 35. Wine, Women, and Song: 
 Mediaeval Latin Students' Swugs. Trans- 
 lated Into English, with an Introduction, 
 by John Adeknoton Symonos. 
 
 36, 37. Ooortfe Pet tie's Petite Pal- 
 lace of Pottle his Pleasure. 
 Ediiixl by Prof. 1. GOLLANCZ. 2 vols. 
 
 38. Walpole's Castle of Otranto. 
 By Sir Walter Scott. With Intro- 
 duction and Preface bv Miss SPTJRORON. 
 
 30. The Poets Royal of England 
 and Seotland. Original Poems uy 
 Kings and otner Royal and Noble 
 Persons, collected and e-iited by W. 
 Bailey Kempllvg. 
 
 40. air Thomas More's Utopia. 
 Edited by Rohkkt Steele, F.s.a. 
 
 41.fChaucer , s Legend of Good 
 
 Women. In Modern English, with 
 No es and Introduction by Proiessor 
 W. W. SUKAT. 
 
 42. Swift's Battle of the Books. 
 Ed'itou, with Notes and Introduction, by 
 A. GUTHKELCH. 
 
 43. Sir William Temple upon the 
 Gardens ef Epicurus, with 
 other 17th Century Garden 
 
 Essays. Edited, with Notes and Intro- 
 duction, by A. Forbes Sib veklng, F.S.A, 
 
 44. The Four Last Things, by Sir 
 Thomas Mure; logcUier with A 
 Spiritual Consolation and 
 other Treatises by John Fisiiek, 
 Bishop 01 Rochester. Edited by Daniel 
 O'Connor. 
 
 45. The Song of Roland. Translated 
 iroru the old Fieuch by Mrs. Ckosland, 
 With Introduction by Prof. BRANDIK. 
 
 46. Dante's Vita Nuova. the 
 Italian text, with Oantb G. KussBTTl a 
 translation on opposite pag.-. With Intro- 
 duction and Notes bv Pro?. H. Oklsner. 
 
 47. t Chaucer's Prologue and 
 Minor Poems. In modern English, 
 with Notes and introduction by Prof. 
 W. W. Skeat. 
 
 ia.'Chaucor's Parliament of 
 Birds and House of Fame. In 
 modern English, with No^es anu Intro- 
 duction by Prof. W. W. Skeat. 
 
 49. Mrs. GasHell's Cranford. With 
 
 Introduction by K. BRI.MLEY |OHNSON. 
 
 SO.fPearl. An English Poem of the 
 Fouileenth Century. Edited, with a 
 Modern Rendering and an Introduction, 
 bv Professor I. Gou.ANCZ. 
 
 51, 52. King's Letters. Volumes III. 
 and IV. Newly edited Irom the oiiginals 
 by Robert Steele, F.S.A. 
 
 53. The English Correspondence 
 of Saint ttoniface. Translated and 
 edited, with an introductory Sketch of the 
 Lile of St. Boniface, by E. J. Kyuk, M.A.
 
 Ill ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, W.C. 
 
 I? 
 
 KING'S CLASSICS (The)— continued. 
 66. The Cavalier to his Lady 
 
 Seventeenth Century Lo\e songs. 
 Edited by F. Sidgwick. 
 
 57. Asser's Idfe of King Alfred. 
 Edited by L. C. JANE, M.A. 
 
 58. Translations from the Ice- 
 landic. By Rev. W. C. GREEN, M.A. 
 
 59. The Rule of St. Benot. Trans- 
 la:ed by Right Rev. Abbot Gasquet. 
 
 60. Daniel's 'Bella' and Drayton's 
 ' Idea.' Edited by Aruxdell Esdailk, 
 M.A. 
 
 61. The Book of tho Duke of 
 True Lovers. A Romance <>!' the 
 Court, by Christine dh Pis an, 
 translated, with Noti-s and Introduction, 
 by Ai ion Kemp-Welch. 
 
 62. Of the Tumbler of Our Lady, 
 and otber Miracles. Translated, 
 from the Middle Flench MSS., with 
 Notes and Introduction, by Alice 
 Kkmp-Wei.ch. 
 
 63. The Chatelaine of Yergl. A 
 Romance of the Court, translated froru 
 the Middle French, by Alice Kemp 
 Welch, w tb Introduc ion bv L. 
 BUANDIN, Ph.D., and with the original 
 Text. Edition Raynaud, 
 
 61. Troubadour Pooraa. Edited by 
 
 ItAKBAKA SMYTHK. 
 
 85. An Anthology of French 
 Verse, selected by C. B. Lewis. 
 Ear iter Volumes in the Series are — 
 
 1. The Love of Hooks (The I'liilobihlon). 
 
 2. *3ix Dramas of Oaldeiou (Fitztierald'F 
 
 Traustatiou). < Double vol.i 
 a Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond. 
 i. 'I tie Life of Sir Tuoiujs More. 
 
 6. Eikon Basil! ke. 
 
 8. King*' Letters : Alfred to the coming of 
 the TuUora. 
 
 7. Kings' Letters : From the Tudora to the 
 
 Love Letter* of Henry VIII. 
 
 8. tt'haucer's Knie-uts Tale ("Prof. Skkat). 
 
 II. ti.'bHiici-r kMhu of Law** Tale (Prof 8KBAT) 
 Id. t<;iiancer's Priorci-s's Tale (Prof. Hkkatj. 
 
 11. The Koiuuiii'u of Eulke Fitzuariue. 
 
 12. The Story of Cupid mid Psyche. 
 
 13. Evelyu's Life of Margaret Uodolphlo. 
 
 14. Harlf Lives of Dante. 
 
 15. Tlie Falstaff Letters. 
 
 Is Polooius. By Kiiwahd FitzObrald. 
 
 17. Mi-diasval Lor<-. 
 
 18. The Vision of Tiers the Plowman (Prof. 
 
 SliKAT). 
 19 The Hull s Hornbook. 
 SO. *Tbe Nun's Kulo, or Ancren Rlwle. (Doubh* 
 
 vol.1. 
 11. Te.e Memoir* of Robert Cory, Earl . f Hon 
 
 mouth. 
 
 IS. F.arly I.Ives of Charlemagne. 
 
 ia Obero's ' Friendship,' ' Old Age,' and 
 
 'Scinio's Dream.' 
 >4 • Wordsworth's Prelude. (Double vol.) 
 J5. Tue Defence of Guenevere. 
 »>i, 27. Browning's Men and Women. 
 28. Foe's Poems, 
 tu. Slmkesneare's Sonnet*. 
 8u. Ueorge Eliot's Silas Marner. 
 31. Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. 
 Hi. Charles Reade s Peg WotBi<gii>n. 
 
 33. The Household of Sir Thuliuu More. 
 
 34. Sapphe : One Hundred Lyrics, lly Br.iss 
 
 Oamcav. 
 
 * Nu in i>pr» 2. to, and 24 are Double Volumes 
 and Double Price. 
 
 ♦ 'l'hf Chaucer Vols., and also No. 50, mil} be bad 
 In stiff raj er covers at Is. act each. 
 
 KING'S LIBRARY FOLIOS 
 
 (The). 
 The Mlrrour of Vertue In World- 
 ly Greatnes, or Tlie Life of Sir 
 Ihonias. Wore, Knight, by h,s 
 
 son-in-law, William Roper, ios. bd. 
 net. (Seven copies of this volume alone 
 remain, and are not to be sold apart from 
 sets.) 
 
 Eikon Basillke, the Portralcture 
 of His Sacred Majestie in his 
 Solitudes and Sufferings. 
 
 Edited by Edward Almack, 1\SA. 
 £1 is. net. 
 
 Shakespeare's Ovid, being 
 Arthur Gelding's Translation 
 of the Metamorphoses. Edited 
 by W. H. D. Kocse, Lilt.D. £1 lis. bd. 
 net. 
 
 The Percy Folio of Old English 
 Ballads tnd Romances. Edited 
 
 by the General Ediiok. In four 
 volumes at £4 4s. the set. (Valiums I, 
 and II. issued; III. at Prtss ; IV. in 
 Preparation.) 
 
 •„• Notk. — Seven comflelc sets of the above 
 /olios remain for sale. Price, per set, 
 £7 17t. del nrt. 
 
 KINO'S LIBRARY QUARTOS 
 
 (The>. 
 The Alchemist. By Ben Jonso.v. 
 Edited by H. C. HART. $s. net ; Japan- 
 ese vellum, £1 is. net. 
 
 The Gull's Hornbook. By Thomas 
 
 DtKKKrt. Ediied by K. B McKeHROW. 
 
 5j. net ; Japanese v_llum, ioj;. bd. net. 
 
 The Beggar'a Opera. By John Gay. 
 E.lited by Hamjlion MacLeod. $s. 
 net ; Japanese vellum, in*. bd. net. 
 
 KIPL1NQ PRIMER (A). Includ- 
 ing Biographical and Critical Chapters, 
 an Index to Mr. Kiping's principal 
 Writings, and Bibliographies. By K. L, 
 
 KNOWLRS. With Two Portraits. Crown 
 8vo, cloth, 3i. bd. 
 
 K N I G H T i\V I L L I A M and 
 EDWARD^— The Patient'* Vado 
 Alecutn : Mow to Get Most Benefit 
 from Medicul Advice. Crown Hvo, 
 cloth, It, cxf. 
 
 LAMB'S (CHARLES) Complete 
 
 Worka in Proee and Verse, including 
 
 ' Poetry for Children ' and ' Prince Dorns.' 
 Edited by R II. Shepherd. With i 
 Portraits and Facsimile ot the ' Essay ou 
 Koasi Pig.' Crown 8vo, cloth, is, bd. 
 The Essays of Ella. (Both Solo.) 
 FlNK Paper Edi noN, pott 8vo, cloth, gilt 
 top, 2j. net: leather, j;ilt edges, 3.V. net. 
 
 LA M BERT 
 
 President 
 
 cloth, iv bd. 
 
 (GEORGE). — The 
 
 of Moravia. Crown Hvo.
 
 i8 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 LANE (EDWARD WILLIAM). 
 
 —The Thousand and One Nights, 
 
 commonly called in England Th<j 
 Arabian Mights' Entertain- 
 ments. Translated from the Arabic 
 and illustrated by many hundred Engrav- 
 ings from Designs by H arvey. Edited 1 1 ■■, 
 E. S. Poole. With Preface by Stan i . s 
 Lane-Poole. 3 Vols;, 8vo, ci. ( 22s. <-J. 
 
 LAUrTsTOUN (PETER). The 
 
 Painted Mountain. Cr. 8vo. cloth, ft* 
 
 LEfc (HOLME).— Legends from 
 
 Fairy Latsd. With about 2^0 Illus- 
 trations by Reginald L. and Horace 
 
 J. Knowles, and an Introduction by 
 E. H. Fkeemantle. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 gilt, 5s. net. 
 
 LEES (DOROTHY N.).— Tuscan 
 
 Feasts arid Tuscan Friends. With 
 
 12 Illustrations. Large crown Svo, cloth, 
 5s. net. 
 
 LEHMAN N" (R. C). - Harry 
 
 Fiudyer at Cambridge, and Conver 
 sationai Hints for Young Shooters 
 
 down Svo, I*. ; cloth, is, 6 ,1. 
 
 LE i Gfti (HENRY S.).— Carols of 
 
 Cockayna. Crown 8v o, buckram, 5s. 
 
 LELAND (C. G.).— A ManuaFoi 
 
 Aleudiug and Repairing. With Dia- 
 grams. Crown Svo, cloth, tt. 
 
 "LEPELLETiER (EDMONSp^ 
 
 Madame Sans-Qene. Translated bv 
 John vr Viluers. Post 8vo, clp^h, 
 3s. tul. ; illustrated boards, 2s. ; POPULAR 
 Edition, medhim 8vo, .v. 
 
 LEY SlJ0HN~iC.). NoveirbyT" 
 
 The Lindsays. Post 8vo, illust. bds.,2s. 
 A Sere Temptation. Cr. Svo, ct, 6s 
 
 LI LB URN (ADAM).— A Tragedy 
 in Alarble. Crown Svo, cloth, 3;. 6d. 
 
 LINDSAY (HARRY), Novels by. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3.5. 6d. each. 
 Rhoda R oberts. [ The Jacobite. 
 
 Crown 870. cloth, 6s. each. 
 Judah Pyecroffc, Puritan. 
 
 The Sto?* of Lean. 
 
 LINTON "( g.~ LYNN)7W orks"bvT 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, 3s. td. each ; post 8vo, illus- 
 trated boards, 2s. each. 
 Patricia Kemtmll. J lone. 
 The Atonement of Learn Sun das. 
 The World Wall Lest. 12 Ulusts 
 The One Too Many. 
 Under which Lord? With r2 Iihists 
 'Kylove.' I Sowing the Wind! 
 Paston Garew. I Dulcia Everion. 
 With a Silfren Thread. 
 The Rebel_of the_Pamily. 
 
 An Octave of Friends. Crcwn 8vo 
 cloth, 3s. td. 
 
 Bowing the Wind. Cheap Edition, 
 8vo, Cloth, 1,1 ml. 
 
 Patricia Kemball. Popular Edi- 
 tion, medium Svo, td. 
 
 LORIMER (NORMA).— The 
 
 Pag an Woman. Cr. 8vo, cloth, 31. td. 
 
 LUCAS (ALICE). - Talmudic 
 
 Legends, Hymns, and Paraphrases. 
 
 Post Svo, half- parchment , ?.*. net. 
 
 LUCAS (E. V.), Books~"by7~ 
 
 Anne's Terrible Good Nature, and 
 other Stories for Children. With 12 
 Illustrations by A. H. Bi.ckland, and 
 Coloured End -Papers and Cover by 
 K. D. BE l> FORK. Crown Svo, cloth 6v 
 
 A Book of Yerses for Children. 
 With Coloured Title-page. Crown Svo 
 cloth, 6s. 
 
 Three Hundred Games and Pa3- 
 timea. By E. V. Lucas and Elizauei 11 
 Lucas. Pott 4to. cloth, 6 S . net 
 
 The Flamp, and othen Stories. 
 Royal l6mo, cloth, is, net 
 
 LUCYIHENRY W7),-GJdio7I 
 
 Fleycc. Crown Svo, cloth, 3s. td. ; post 
 Svo, illustrated boards, 2.s. 
 
 VIACAUl7A\ r lLO^D7^^^e~His- 
 
 tory of England. Large Tv^e. Fink 
 Paper Edition, in 5 vols, pott 8vo, 
 cloth, gilt top, 2s. net per vol. ; leather, 
 oil! ed 'es, jj. net per vol. 
 
 iVIACCOLL (HUGH).— Mr." 
 
 Straager's Sealed Packet. Cr. Svo, 
 cloth, St. 6d . ; po.st Svo, U us hoards, 2c. 
 
 MCCARTHY! JUSTIN), Booksby. 
 
 The Rei£» of Queen linna. Two 
 Vol?., demy Svo, cloth. 12s. each. 
 
 A History of the Four Georges 
 and of William the Fourth. 
 Four Vols., demy Svo, cloth, 12$ each. 
 
 A History of Our Own Times 
 from the Accession of Queen Victoria to 
 the Genera! Election of i83o. Library 
 Edition. Four Vols., demy Svo, cloth, 
 12.S. each.— Also the Popular Edition, 
 in Four Vols., crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. each! 
 —And the Jubilee Edition, with an 
 Appendix of Event* to the end of 1886, 
 in 2 Vols., derav Svo, cloth, 7$. td. each. 
 
 A History of Our Own Times, 
 Vol. V., from 1880 to the Diamond Jubilee 
 Demy Svo, cloth, 12*.: crown Svo, cloth 6s. 
 
 A History of Our Own Times, 
 Vols. VI. and Vll.. from i&»7 to Accession 
 of Edward VII. 2 Vols., demy 8vo, cloth, 
 24s. ; crown Svo, cloth. 12s. 
 
 A Short History of Our Own 
 Times, from the Accession of Queen 
 Victoria to the Accession of King 
 Edwaid VII. New Edition, revised 
 and enlarged. Crown Svo, cloth, gilt 
 top, 6s. ; also the Popular EDITION, 
 post 8vo, cloth, 2s. td. : and the Cheap 
 Edition (t o the year 1880) , med. 8vo, 6d. 
 
 Large Type, Fine Paper Editions. 
 Pott Svo, cloth, gilt top, 2.«. net per vol. ; 
 leather, gilt erlges, 3s. net per vol. 
 The Hei£n of Queen Anne, in 1 Vol. 
 A History of the Four Georges 
 
 and of William IY., in 2 vols. 
 A History of Our Own Times from 
 Accession of Q. Victoria to 1897, in 3 Vols.
 
 Ill ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, W.C. 
 
 19 
 
 McCarthy (justin)-*™//™**. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each ; postSvo, pict. 
 
 boards, is. each ; cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each. 
 The Waterdalo Neighbours. 
 My Snemy's Daughter. 
 A Fair Saxon. | Iiinley Rochford. 
 Dearlisdy Disdain. | The Dictator. 
 Miss Misanthrope. With 12 Illusts. 
 Donna Quixote. With 13 Illustrations. 
 The Comet of a Season. 
 Maid of Athens. With 12 Illustrations. 
 Camiola. 
 Red Dia monds. | The Kiddle Ring. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3J 6d. eich. 
 The Thre a Disgraces . | Mononia. 
 •The Right Honourable.' By Justin 
 
 McCarthy and Mrs. Campbell Praed. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 6.?. 
 Julian Revels to no. Cr. 8vo. cloth, 6s. 
 
 MCCARTHY (J. H.). Works by. 
 The French Re-sraluiion. (Coustl- 
 
 tuent Assembly, 1789-91.) Four Vols., 
 
 demyfivo. cloth, 12s. each. 
 An Outline of the History of 
 
 Ireland. Crown 8vo, it. ; cloth, m.td. 
 Ireland Since the Union— 1798- 
 
 1SSQ. Crown 8vo, cloth. 6s. 
 Haftz in Iiondon. 8vo, gold cloth, 3s. 6d. 
 Out Sensation Novel. Crown 8vo, 
 
 is. : cioth, is. 6d. 
 Doom: An Atlantic Episode. Crown 8vo, is. 
 Dolly : A Sketch. Crown 8vo, is. 
 Lily I<aas. Crown 8vo, is. ; cloth, is. 6d. 
 A London Legend. Cr.8vo,cloth. 3?. 6d. 
 
 MACDONELL (AGNES).— 
 
 Quaker Cousins. Post 8vo, boards, 2s. 
 
 MACHRAY (ROBERT), Novels 
 
 by. Crown 8vo. cloth, 6s. each. 
 A Blow over the Heart. 
 The Mystery of Lincoln's Inn. 
 The Private Detective. 
 
 Ker Honour. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3$. 6d. 
 
 MACKAY (Dr. CHAS.).— Inter- 
 ludes and Undertones. Cr.8vo,cioth,6s 
 
 MACKAY ( WILLIAM). — A 
 
 Mender of Nets. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 MACKENZIE (W. A.).— The 
 
 Drexel Dream. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 MACDONALD (Dr. GEORGE), 
 Rooks bv. 
 
 Works of Fancy and Imagination 
 
 ion Vols., i6mo, cloth, gilt, in case, 21s.; 
 or separately, Grolier cloth, 2.5. 6d. each. 
 Also a New Issue in i6mo, cloth, gilt 
 top, 2s. net per Vol. ; leather, gilt top, 3s. 
 net per Vol. 
 
 Vol. I. Within and Without— The 
 Hidden Life. 
 
 „ II. The Disciple — Th* Gospel 
 Women— Book of Sonnets- 
 Organ Songs. 
 
 „ III. Violin Songs— Songs of the 
 Days and Nights— A Book 
 of Dreams — Roadside Poems 
 — Pokms for Children. 
 
 „ IV. Paraiu.es — Ballads — Scotch 
 V. & VI. Phantasies. [Songs. 
 
 VII. The Portent. 
 
 „ VIII. The Light Princess — The 
 Giant's Heart— Shadows. 
 
 „ IX. Cross Purposes— Golden Key 
 Carasoyn— LittleDayi ight. 
 
 „ X. The Cruel Painter— The Wow 
 O'Rivven — The Castle— The 
 Broken Swqbds— Thh Gray 
 Wolf— Uncle Cornelius. 
 
 Poetical Works oT"6eorge £Cac- 
 
 Donald. 2 Vols., cr.Svo, buckram, 12s. 
 
 Heather and Snow. Crown 8vo, cloth, 
 
 ■ ;. : post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 Ll'.ith. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 The Pocket George MacDonald: 
 Passages Chosen bv A. H. Hyatt. 161110, 
 cloth £ilt,2s. net ; leather g'.lt, 35. net. 
 
 MACLISE PortraitGaUery (The) 
 
 of Illustrious Literary Characters : 
 85 Portraits by Daniel Maclise ; 
 with Memoirs by William Bates, B.A. 
 Crown 8vo. cloth, 3s. 6d. 
 
 MAQIC LANTERN, The, and its 
 
 Management. Bv T. C. Hepworth. 
 With 10 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, is. ; cloth, Is. 6d. 
 
 MAGNA CHARTA: A Facsimile of 
 the Original, 3 ft by 2 ft.. with Arms and 
 Seals emblazoned in Gold and Colours, 5s. 
 
 MALLOCK (W. H.), Works by. 
 
 The IHew Republic. Post 8vo. cloth, 
 3s. 6d. ; illustrated boards. 2s. ; LARGE 
 Type, Fine Paper Edition, pott 8vo, 
 cloth, gilt top, as. net ; leather, g.lt edges, 
 3*. net 
 
 PoemB. Small 4to. parchment, 8s. 
 
 Is Lire Worth Living? Crown 8vo, 
 buckram, 6s. 
 
 MALLORY (Sir THOMAS).— 
 
 Mort d' Arthur, Selections from, edited 
 by 15. M. Ranking. Post 8vo, cloto, 2s. 
 
 MARQUERITTE (PAUL and 
 
 ViCTORi, Novels by. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3*. 6d. each. 
 The Kilnp^ster. Translated bv V. Lees. 
 Vanity. Translated by K. S. West. With 
 
 Poiu ait Frontispiece. 
 
 The Commune. Translated by F. I.E"S 
 
 and B. B. Dougla s. Cr. 8vo. doth, 65. 
 MARIE DE MEDICIS and the 
 
 Court of France in the XVMth Cen- 
 tury. Translated from the French of 
 Lows Batiffol by Mary King. With 
 a Portrait. Demy 8vo, cloth, 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 MARLOWE'S Works, including 
 
 his Translations. Edited with Notes by 
 Col. Cunning h am. C r. Svo, clo th, 3?.fW. 
 
 M AR5H ( R 1 C H A R DJT^A 
 
 Spoiler of Men. Cr. Svo, cloth, 3s. bd.
 
 20 
 
 CHATTO & WIN PUS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 MASTER OF GAME (THE): 
 
 The Oldest English B«ok on 
 Hunting. By Edwahii. Second DuV:. 
 of York. Edited by W. A. and F. 
 Bullie-Grohman. With Introduction 
 bvTHEODORE Roosevelt. Photogravure 
 Frontispiece, and 23 Full-page Illus- 
 trations after Illuminations, Large cr, 
 8vo, cloth, 7s. 6d. net ; parchmenr, 
 lot , fid, net. 
 
 MASSINGER'S Plays. From ihe 
 Text of William Gifford. Edited by 
 Col. Cunningham. Or. Svo, cloth, fc.t r,J\ 
 
 MASTERMAN (J, 
 
 dozen Daughters. 
 
 ).— Half-a- 
 
 Post Svo, bds., is 
 
 MATTHEWS (BRANDER).-A 
 
 Secret of the Sea. Pjst Svo, iTlus 
 hated boards, 2*. ; cloth, 2s. (id. 
 
 M AX 0» REX LTB o o k s~ b y . 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth. $s. td. rach. 
 Her Royal Highness Woman 
 Between Ourselves. 
 Rambles in W omanland. 
 
 MEADE (L. T.), NoveJsbyT 
 
 A Soldier of Fortune. Crown 8vo 
 cloth, 3t. rV /. ; post Svo, illtist. boards, 2_t. 
 Crown 8to, cloth, ^s77>i. each. 
 
 Tho Voice of the Charmer. 
 
 In an Iron Grip. | The Siren. 
 
 Dr. Rumsey's Patient. 
 
 On the Brink of a Chasm. 
 
 The Way of a Woman, 
 
 A Con of Ishmael. 
 
 An Advsnturasa. | Rosebnry. 
 
 Tho Blue Diamond. 
 
 R Stumble by the Way. 
 
 This Troublesome World. 
 
 MED1CIS (Lives of the): from 
 
 their Letters. By Ianbt Ross. With 
 Photogravure Frontispiece and other 
 Illustrations. Demy 8vo, cloth, js. f>d 
 net. IPrepi 1 tin e 
 
 MEDIEVAL LIBRARY (The 
 
 New). Small crown 8vo, pure rag 
 paper, boards, 5s. net per vol. ; pigskin 
 with clasps. <js. 64. net per vol. 
 
 1. The Book of the Duke of True 
 Lovers. Translated from U>e Middle 
 French 01 Chwirtinb dk PlSAN, with 
 Notes by Alice Kemp- Welch. Wood- 
 rut Title and 6 Photogravures. 
 
 2. Of tho Tumbler of oar Lady, 
 and other Miracles. Translated 
 from the Middle French oi Gautiks dk 
 COIKCI, &c. with Notes aiv' Introduction 
 by Alice Kemp-Wblch. Woodcut Title 
 and 7 Photogravures. 
 
 3. The Chatelaine of Vergi. Trans- 
 lated from tho Middle French by Alice 
 Kemp-Welch, with the original Teit, 
 and an Introduction bv Dr. L. Brandin. 
 Woodcut Title and 5 Photogravures. 
 
 4. The Bahoes' Book. Edited from 
 Dr. FlJRNlVAi.L's Texts, with Notes, by 
 Edith Pickert. Woodcut Title and 6 
 Photogravures. 
 
 MEDIEVAL LIBRARY <The)-<™/,W,i. 
 6. The Book of tho Divine Con- 
 solation of Saint Angela da 
 
 i-oiljfno. Translated from ihe Italian 
 by Mary G. Steegmann, with Intro- 
 ductton by Algar Thorold. Woodcut 
 Title and reproductions of Woodcuts 
 
 6. The Legend of tbo Holy Pina, 
 Virgin of Santo Gemlniano. 
 
 Translated from the 14th Century MS. 
 bv M. Mansfield. Woodcut Title and 
 f> Photogravures 
 
 7. Early English Romances of 
 Love. Edited in Modern English by 
 Edith Rickf.rt. 5 Photogravur s 
 
 8 Early English Romances of 
 Friendship. Edited in M dern 
 English, with Notes, by Edith Rickekt. 
 o Photogravures. 
 
 8. The Cell of Self-Knowledge. 
 
 beven Early Mystical Treatises printed in 
 1851. Edited, with Introduction and 
 Notes, by Edmund Gakd.vem, M.A. 
 
 Coll -type Fmn'^P'-'A • Hg colours. 
 
 10. ancient jeinyiian Christmas 
 Carols, 14O0-1700. Collected and 
 arranged by Edith Kjckkrt. Wilh 8 
 Photogravure*. Boards, is. bd. net ; 
 pigskin wi th c lasps ioj. 6d. net. 
 
 ME L B A : A^feiography: By 
 
 Agnes M. Murphy. With Chapters by 
 Madams Melba on The Art of Sing- 
 ing and on The Selection of Music >s 
 A PROFKSSiON.Ponratis.and Illustrations. 
 De-nv Svo, cloth, ifijr. net. 
 
 MERRICk (HOHE). — When a 
 
 Girl's Engng-rd. Cr. Svo. cloth. 3*. (>,/. 
 
 MERRICK (LEONARD), Novels 
 
 by. 
 The Man who was Good. Crown 
 
 Svo, el., 3 <. 6d. : pi>st 8v .-», illust. bds., 2t. 
 Crown Svo, cloth, is. M. each. 
 Cynthia. | This Stage of Foolo. 
 
 METHVEN (PAUL).— 
 
 Influences. Crown Svo, cloth 67, 
 
 MEYNELL (AL1C E).— The 
 
 Flower of the Mind : a Choice 
 eraon'j the Best Poem*. In ifmio, 
 
 ciota, gil t, 21. n t ; leal her, 3*. net. 
 
 MINTO (WM.).-Was She Good 
 
 or Bad? Crown 8vo. el'-th. 1 v. bd. 
 
 MITCHELL (EDM.), Novels hy. 
 
 Crown 8vo, clo'h jj. ftd, each. 
 Tha Loae Star Eush. With 8 Musts. 
 Only a Wiggor. 
 The SaPor's of Culben. 
 Crown Xvo. pictr.re cloth, flat backs, 23. each. 
 Plotters of Paris. 
 The Temple of Death. 
 Towards the Eternal Snows, 
 
 MITFORD (BERTRAM), Novels 
 
 by. Crown Svo. cloth. 3*. fvi. each. 
 Rerishaw Farming's Quest. 
 Triumph of Hilary Blachland. 
 Haviland's Chum.
 
 Ill ST. MARTIN'S LANE , LONDON, W.C. 
 
 21 
 
 MITFORD (BERTRAM)— continued. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3 v. bd. each ; picture cloth, 
 fiat back, 2.1. each. 
 The Luck of Gerard Ridgeley. 
 The King's Assegai. With 6 lllusts. 
 The Gun-Runner. Cr. 8vo, D., ss. 6d.; 
 Cheap Edition, medium 8vo., bd. 
 
 HarleyGreenoak's Charge. Crown 
 
 8vo, cloth, bs. 
 
 MOLESWORTH (Mrs.).- 
 
 Hathercourt Rectory. Crown Svo 
 cloth, 35. (id. ; post 8vo . uliist. boards, 2.5 
 
 MONCRIEFF (W. D. SCOTT^- 
 
 The Abdication: A Drama. With 
 
 Etchings. Imperial 4to, buckram, 21s. 
 
 MORROW (W. C.). -Bohemian 
 
 Paris of To- Day. With ro6 Illtists.by 
 
 EnorARnCi'CTiRi.. Small demv8vo cl.At 
 
 MUDDOCK (J. E.)f Stories by, 
 
 Crown 8vu, cloth. 3s. bd. each. 
 Basile the Jester. 
 Young Lpchlntrar. 
 
 The Golden Idol. 
 
 Post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 The Dead Man's Secret. 
 From frhe B osom of £he Deep. 
 Stories Weird and - Wonderful 
 
 Post 8vo, itlust. boards,w. ; cloth, is. 6d. 
 Maid Marian and Robin Hood. 
 
 With 12 Ujus. by Stanley l. Wood. Cr. 
 
 _ Svo Doth. 3.1. fid. ; pictur e ei. flat back. 2s. 
 
 M U R R A Y (D. C li~RTSTI W> 
 
 Novels by. Crown Svo, cloth, ?t. bd. 
 
 each : post Svo, ilhist rated boards, 3$, each. 
 A Ufa's Atonement. 
 Joseph's Coat. With 12 liberations. 
 Coals of Fire. With 3 MuMra 'loins. 
 Val Strange. I A Wasted Crime, 
 A Capful o* Nails. Hearts. 
 
 The Way of the World. 
 Mount Despair. | A Model Father, 
 Old Blazer c Hero. 
 By the Gwte of the Re*. 
 A Bit o' iluKE "> r. Ha',ui'o. 
 First Person Singular. 
 Bob Martin's Little Girl. 
 Time's Revenges. 
 Cynic Fo rtupo. 1 In D irest Peril. 
 
 Crown 8v». cloth. 3s. bd. each. 
 This Little '27orld'. 
 A Race for Million*. 
 The Church of Humanity. 
 Tales In Prose and Yarse. 
 Despair's Last Journey. 
 Y.C.: A C hroniDe of Cantl e Bar6ekt. 
 Verona's Father. Cnuvn 8vo, cloth, 8*. 
 His Own Ghost. Crown 8vo, cloth, 
 
 3*. W. ; picture cloth, flat back, 2s. 
 Joseph's Coat. Popular Edition, 
 
 medium 8vo. bd. 
 
 MURRAY (D. CHRISTIE) and 
 
 HENRY HERMAN, Novels by. 
 
 Crown 8vo. cloth. 31. bd. each ; post 8vo, 
 
 illustrated boards. 2s. each. 
 One Traveller Returns. 
 The Bishops' Bible. 
 Paul Jones's Alias. With Illustrations 
 
 by A. Eorestiek and G. Nicoi.ET. 
 
 MURRAY (HENRY), Novels by. 
 
 Post Svo, eloth, zs. bd. each. 
 A Game of Bluff. 
 A Bong of Sixpence. 
 
 NEWBOLT (HENRY). — Taken 
 
 from the Enemy. Fcp. 8vo, pic. cov.,i$. 
 
 NISBET (HUME), Books by. 
 
 * Bail Dp t* Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. bd. ; 
 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. ; 
 
 Popular Edition medium 8vo, bd. 
 Dr. Bernard St. Vincent. Post 8vo, 
 
 illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 NORDAU (MAX). -Morganatic : 
 
 A Romance. Translated by Elizabeth 
 
 Lek. Crown 8vo, cloth, eilt top, bs. 
 
 NORRIS (W. E.), Novels byT 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. bd. ea«h j post Svo, 
 illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 Saint An n's. | B illy Bellew. 
 
 Miss Went worth's Idea. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth, 3 .5. bd. 
 
 OUIDA, Novels by. down 8vo, 
 
 Doth, 3s. bd. each ; post 8vo, illustrated 
 boards, 2s. eaDi. 
 
 Trlcotrin 
 Ruftino. 
 Othmar. 
 Frescoes. 
 
 Wanda. 
 
 Ariadne. 
 
 PuoanL 
 
 Chandos. 
 
 Moths. 
 
 Pnck. 
 
 Jdnlia. 
 
 Bimhl. 
 
 Signa. 
 
 Friendship. 
 
 GuilJeroy, 
 
 A Dog of Flanders. 
 Cecil Castlemaine's 
 
 Gage. 
 Princess Napraxine. 
 Held in Bondage. 
 Under Two Flags. 
 Folle-Farinc. 
 Two Wooden Shoes. 
 A Village Commuae a 
 In a Winter City. 
 Santa Barbara. 
 In Maremma. 
 Strathmoro. 
 Pifiist/allo. 
 Two Offenders. 
 I Syrlin. 
 
 Crown Svo, Doth, $s. bd. each. 
 A Rainy June. | The Massarenes. 
 
 The Waters of Edera. 
 Crown 8vo, picture cloth, flat back, 2s eich. 
 Syrlin. 1 The Waters of Edora. 
 Popular Eoinoxs. medium 8vo, bd. eacn. 
 Under Two Flags. Moths. 
 
 Held in Bondage. 
 8trathjmoro. 
 The Mas? arones. 
 
 Puck. 
 Tricotrin. 
 Chandos. 
 Ariadno. 
 Shoos. 
 
 Pascarol. 
 
 Friendship. 
 
 Two kittle Wooden 
 
 Idalia. 1 Othmar. 
 
 A YlLlag^ Commune. 
 Two Little Iff ooden Shoes. I.arok 
 
 Type Edition. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, is. net ; 
 
 leather, is. bd. net. 
 
 Wisdom, Wit, and Pathos, selected 
 from the Works of OuiDA by F. SYDNEY 
 Morris. Post Svo. cloth. 51. 
 
 OHNET (GEORGES), Novels by. 
 
 Doctor Rameau. Post 8vo, illustrated 
 
 boards a<. 
 A Weird Gift. Crown 8vo, cloth, $s.6d. ; 
 
 post Bvo. illustrated board <, 2s. 
 A Last Love. Post 8vo, illust. bds., ».
 
 22 
 
 C HATTO & WINDUS , PUBLISHERS, 
 
 OH ,\ ET (G EORQ ES)-conti«uc J. 
 Crown 8vo, <-lo:h, 3*. 6d % each. 
 The Path of Glory. 
 Love's Depths. 
 The Money-maker. 
 The Woman of Mystery. 
 The Conquerass. 
 
 OLIPHANT (Mrs.). Novels by. 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each 
 Tha Primrose Path. 
 The Grea test Heires s In England 
 
 Whitoladies, Crown 8vo, cloth, with 12 
 on*. 3s, 6d. ; post 8vo, bds., 2?. 
 
 Illustrati 
 
 The Sorceress. Crown 8w, cioth, '3.5. grf. 
 
 05B0URNE (LLOYD), Stories 
 
 by. Crown 8vo, cioth, 3*. td. t ach. 
 The Motoiraanlaca. 
 Throe Speeds Forward, With 
 
 Illustrations. 
 
 O'SHAUGHNESSY (ARTHUR). 
 Mrxsio & Moonlight. Fcp. Svo. cl.. 7*. 6,i 
 
 PAIN (BARRY).— Eliza's Hus- 
 
 bend. Fcap., Svo, it. j cloth, it. 6rf. 
 
 PANDURANQ HARI; or, 
 
 Memoirs of a Hindoo. With Preface 
 
 by Sir Bartlu Frerk. 
 t rated boards, 2,5. 
 
 Post 8yo, ill us- 
 
 PARADISE (The) or Garden of 
 the Holy Fathers: Histories of the 
 Anchorites, Recluses, Coenobites, Monk*, 
 and Ascetic Fathers of the Deserts of 
 Egypt, between about A.n ?**■< s'faej 400. 
 Compt'ed by Hthawasius, PstXArtrcs 
 ST. Jerome, and other«, Transjited 
 from the Svriac, with an Intro- 
 duction, by E. A. WALLlsnnD(;K.I.itt.D. 
 With 2 Frontispieces. 2 vols, huge r.rowo 
 Svo, buckram, 15*. net. 
 
 Post Svo, Illustrated boards. 29. each. 
 tumorous Stories. | Prom Exile. 
 The Foster Brothers. 
 Married Beneath Him. 
 Bentinok's Tutor. 
 Walter's Word. I Fallen Fortunes. 
 A Perfect Treasure. 
 Like Father, Like Son. 
 A Woman's Vengeance. 
 Carlyon's Yaar. | Cecil's Tryst. 
 Murphy 'a Iff aster. 
 Soma Private View". 
 Found Dead. | Kirk Abbey. 
 
 A Marine Residence. 
 The Canon's Ward. 
 Not Wooed. Bat Won. 
 Two Hundred Pounds Reward. 
 Tha Best of Husbands. 
 £?* lv 2 s ;«. ! w hat Ha Cost Tier* 
 Kit : AMamorr. | Under One Roof. 
 Glow- Worm Tale*. 
 A Prince of the Blood. 
 
 A Modern Dick Whlttington. 
 
 Crown Svo, cioth, with Portrait ot Author 
 3S.M.; picture cloth, flat back, 2$. 
 
 The Burnt Million. Cheap Edition, 
 post 8to, cloth, jx. net. 
 
 Notes from the ' News.* Crown Svo. 
 cloth, is. 6d. 
 
 Popular Edittomk, medium Svo, 6d. each 
 Lost Sir Maosingrjard. 
 Walter's Word. | By Proxy. 
 
 PARIS SALON, The Illustrated 
 
 Catalogue of tbo. With about 300 illus- 
 trations. Published annually. Dy Svo, 3.5. 
 
 PAYN (JAMES), Novels by. 
 
 Crown Svo, cfpth, 39. U. each ; post 8vo, 
 illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 I/03t Sir Massingbard. 
 The Clyffards of Clyifa. 
 A County Family. 
 Less Black than We're Pair. tad. 
 By Proxy. 1 For Ctt3h Only. 
 
 High Bpirita. Sunny Stories. 
 
 A Confidential 'igant. 
 A Grape from a Thorn. 11 Jllusts. 
 The Family Scapegrace. 
 Holiday Tasks. | At Her Mercy. 
 The Talk of tha Town. 12 musts. 
 The Mystery of iVJirbrtdge. 
 The Word and the Will. 
 The Burnt Million. 
 A Trying Patient. 
 Gwendoline's Harvcsti 
 
 PAYNE (WILL). _ Jerry the 
 
 Dreamer. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3*. 6d. 
 
 PAUL(MARGARET A.).— Gentle 
 
 and Simple. Grown Svo, cloth, 3s. (>d. ; 
 post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 PEARS (CHARLES).— From the 
 
 Tharses to the Seine. With 40 Illus- 
 trations in Colours and Sepia. Large 
 fcap. 4to, cloth, jzs.id. net. [Prtjia rhie. 
 
 PENNELL - ELMHIRST (Cap- 
 tain E.).— Tha Best of the Fun. 
 
 With 8 Coloured Illustrations and 48 
 _ others. M e dium Svo, c loth, 6s. net. 
 
 PENNY (F. E.), NoyeisTfoyT 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, 3.7. 6a!. earh. 
 Tha Sanyasl. I ThcTea-Planrer. 
 Caste and Creed. J The Inevitable 
 
 __ Law. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, f>*. each. 
 Dilys. ! Dark Corners. 
 The Unluc ky M ark. 
 
 PERRIN (ALICE), Novels - " 
 
 Idolatry. Crown Svo. cl< itli, 69. 
 
 by. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3.* W, each. 
 A Free Solitude. I Ec^t of Suez. 
 The Waters of Destruction. 
 Bed Reoor.is. 
 The 3trongor Clalm._ 
 Popular Editions, medium 8 vo, 6d. each. 
 Tha Stronger Claim. 
 The Waters of Destruction,
 
 Ill ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, W.C. 
 
 23 
 
 PETER PAN KEEPSAKE (The). 
 By D. S. O'Connor. With Introduction 
 
 by W, T. Stead, and Illustrations. 
 Demy 4to, picture cover, is. net. 
 
 PHELPS (E. S.).— Jack the 
 
 Fisherman. Illustrated by C. \V. 
 1-Ieed. Crown 8vo, cloth, is. 6d. 
 
 PH IL MAY^'Sketch-BookT^ 
 
 Cartoons. Crown folio, cloth, 2s, 6d. 
 
 PHIPSON (Dr. T. L.).— Famous 
 
 Violinists anil Fine Violins. Crown 
 Svo, cloth, <;.?. 
 
 PICTURE-MAKING, Notes on 
 
 the Science of. By Professor 
 C. J. H0LME3, M.A. With Photogravure 
 Frontispiece. Demy 8»o, cloth, ys. 6a. 
 net. 
 
 PILKINGTON (L. L.).— MaTIen- 
 
 der's IViSstake. Ooivn 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 PLANCHE (J. R.).— Songs and 
 
 Poems. Edited by Mrs. MacKARKESS. 
 Crown Sto. cioth, 6s. 
 
 plTays of our pore-' 
 
 FATHEWS, and soaie of the Tradi- 
 tions upon which tht-y were founded. 
 By C. M.Gatlkv, LL.D. With numerous 
 illustrations Royal 8vo, cloth, 12.S. 6d. net. 
 
 PLUTARCH'S Lives of Ulus 
 
 trlous Men. With Life of Plutarch 
 by J. and W. Langhorxe, and Por- 
 traits. Two Vols., Svo, half -cloth, 10s. 6d. 
 
 POE'S (gflaXR"XCLXNTC!wice 
 
 Works : Peems, Stories, Essajs. 
 
 With an Introduction by CHARLRs 
 BAUDBI.ArRE. Crown Svo, cloth, }j. 6d. 
 
 POLLOCKIW. H . ) . — TfieCharm , 
 
 and Other Draw+ni-Ro-am Plays. 
 
 By Sir Walter Besaxt and Walter 
 H. Pollock. With 50 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3*. 6d. 
 
 POTTS (HENRY). -His Fina! 
 
 Flutter. Crown Svo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 (Tnc) : a 
 
 Fkanz Blei 
 
 POWDER - PUFF 
 
 Ladies' Breviary. By 
 l-'cap Svo, cloth, $s. 6d. 
 
 PR A e : D~7M7ir c TTniPWellV, 
 
 Movsls by. P ">*( Svo, lllu=:. boards, is. ea. 
 The Romance of a Station. 
 The Soul of_Counteiis_ Adrian. 
 Crown Svo, cloth, jj. 6d. eu. h . post Svo, 
 
 illustrated lxiards, 2s. i a ';. 
 Outlaw and Lawmaker. 
 Chtiatlna Ohard. 
 Mrs. Tregaakiss. With S Illustrations. 
 
 Crown bvo, cloth, 3^. tj. etch. 
 Nulma. | Bla.daina Izan. 
 *Ab a Watch In the Might.' 
 The Lost Ka rl of Hlian. 
 
 Christina Chard. Cheap Edition, 
 post 8vo, cli ith. is. net. 
 
 PRICE (E. C). — Vaientina. 
 
 Crown Svo. cloth, is. 6d. 
 
 PROCTOR (RICHARD A.), 
 
 Works by. Crown Svo.cloth, 3i. 6d. each. 
 Easy Star Lessons. With Star Maps 
 
 for every Night in the Year. 
 Flowers of the Sky. With 55 IUusts. 
 Familiar Science Studies. 
 Mysteries of Time and Space. 
 2'he Universe of Suns. 
 
 Saturn and its System. With 13 
 
 Steel Plates. Derov 8vo, cloth 6s. 
 Wages and Wants of Science 
 Workers. Crown Svo, is. 6d. 
 
 PRYCE (RICHARD). -Miss 
 
 Maxwell's Affections. Crown Svo, 
 cloth, 3s. td. ; post8vo, illust. boards, 25. 
 
 RAB AND HIS FRIENDS.— Bv 
 
 Dr. John Brown. Square i6mo, with 
 Frontispiece, cloth, is. net. 
 
 RAPPOPORT (A. S. t M.A.).- 
 The Corse of the Romanovs : A Stud 9 
 of the Reigns of Tsars Paul I. and 
 Alexander I. of Russia. 1796-1825. With 
 23 Illustrations. Demy Svo.cloth. 16s.net, 
 
 READE'S (CHARLES) Novels^ 
 
 Collected Library Edition, in Seventeen 
 Volumes, crown Svo, cloth, js. td each. 
 
 Peg WofBngton; and Christia 
 Johnstone. 
 
 Hard Cash. 
 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. 
 With a Preface by Sir Walter Besant, 
 
 ' It is Never Too Late to Mend.' 
 
 The Course of True Love Never 
 Did Run Smooth: and Single- 
 heart and £>oiibleface. 
 
 The Autobiography of a Thief: 
 Jack of all Trades ; A Hero and 
 a Martyr? The Wandering Heir. 
 
 Love Me Little, Love R3e Long. 
 
 The Double Maxiiaga, 
 
 GrlCVfch Gaunt. 
 
 Foul Pray. 
 
 Put Yournelf in His Pla-oe. 
 
 A Terrible Temptation. 
 
 A Simpleton. 
 
 A "Woman-Hater. 
 
 The Jilt; and Good Stories of Man 
 and other Animals. 
 
 A Perilous Secret. 
 
 Readiana; and Bible Characters. 
 
 Also in Twenty-one Volumes, post 8vo, illus- 
 trated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Peg Wofflnsfton. | A Simpleton. 
 Christie Johnstone. 
 ' It is Never Too Lata to Mend.' 
 The Course of True Love Never 
 
 Did Run Smooth. 
 Autobiography of a Thier; Jack 
 
 ofall Trades; James Lamb-it. 
 Love Ms Little, Love Me Long". 
 The Double Marriage. 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. 
 A Terrible Temptation. 
 Hard Cash. | Keadlana. 
 Foul Piay. j Griftith Gaunt.
 
 24 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 KEADB (CHARLBSy-cotitiKtud. 
 
 Post 8vo, Illustrated Boards. i.«. each. 
 Put Yourself In His Place. 
 The Wandering Heir. 
 A Woman Hater. 
 Sing lehcart and Doubleface. 
 Good Stories of Man, &c. 
 The Jilt ; and other Stones. 
 A Perilous Secret. 
 
 Large Type, Fine Paper Editions. 
 
 Pott 8vo, cloth, };llt top, 21. net each ; leather, 
 
 pit edges. 3^. net each. 
 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. With 
 
 32 Illustrations by M. B. Hewkkiuvb. 
 'It is Never Too Late to Mend.' 
 
 Popular Editions, medium Svo, bd. each. 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. 
 ' It is Never Too Late to Mend.' 
 Foul Play. | Hard Cash. 
 Peg Wofflngton; and Christie 
 
 Johnstone. 
 Griffith Oaunt. 
 Put Yourself in His Place. 
 A Terrible Temptation. 
 The Double Marriage. 
 Love toe Little, Love Me Long. 
 A Perilous Seorot. 
 A Woman Hater. 
 
 The Wandering Heir. Larck Type 
 
 Edition, icap.Svo, cloth, is. net ; leather. 
 is. (ui. net. 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. 
 With 10 Photogravure and 84 ball-tone 
 Illustrations by Matt B. HeWERIMNE. 
 Small 4to, cloth, bs. net — Also a New 
 Edition, with 20 Iilustr.u. ons in 4 
 Colours and 10 iu Black and White by 
 Byam Shaw. R.I. Demy 8vo, clotli, 
 12s. ltd. ; parchment, 16.?. net. 
 
 RICHARDSON (FRANK), Novels 
 
 by. Crowu Svo. cloth. 3.?. W. each. 
 
 The Man who Lost his Past. Wit!. 
 
 50 Illustrations bv Tom Browne, 1J.I. 
 The Bay s water Miracle, 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth. 6s. each. 
 The King's Counsel. 
 Stem! Society. 
 There and Back. 
 
 RIDDELL {Mrs.), Novels by. 
 
 A Rich Man's Daughter. Crown 
 
 8vo. cloth. 3s. bd. 
 Weird Stories. Crown 8vo, cloth. 
 
 34. bd. ; post 8vo, picture boards, zs. 
 
 Past Svo, illustrated boards, at, each. 
 The Uninhabited Houne. 
 Prince of Wales's Garden Party. 
 The Mystery in Palace Gardens. 
 Fairy Water. | Idle Tales. 
 Her mother's Darling. 
 
 RIVES (AMELIE), Stories byT 
 
 Crown Bvo, cloth, 3s. bd. each. 
 Barbara Bering. 
 Meriel: A Love biory. 
 
 ROBINSON (F. W.)t Novels by. 
 Woman are Strange. Post bvo, 
 
 illustrated boards, at. 
 The Hands of Justice. Crown 8vo, 
 
 cloth. 3j. bd. ; post Svo, illust. bds., 21. 
 The Woman in the Dark. Crown 
 
 8vo. cloth, 35. 6d. ; post8vo. illust. bds., 2s. 
 
 ROLFE (FR.). Novels by. 
 
 Crown 8vo, clolh, bs. each. 
 Hadrian the Seventh. 
 Don Tarqulnio. 
 
 ROLL OF BATTLE ABBEY, 
 
 THE: A List of Principal Warriors who 
 came from Normandv with William the 
 CVvonerrvr. kvVi In (.ivfrl an-l Colours tf. 
 
 ROSENOAR1 EN(A.).— A hand- 
 book of Architectural Style.*. Trans- 
 lated by W. COLI.ETT-SANDARii. With 
 630 Illustrations. Cr. Svo, cloth. js. 6d, 
 
 ROSS (ALBERT).— A Sugar 
 
 Princess. Crown bvo, cloth, is. bd. 
 
 Rl) W S ELL (MARY" C.)^- 
 
 Monsleur de Paris. Ciowh 8vo, 
 cloth, is. bd. 
 
 RUNCIMAN (JAS.), Stories by. 
 Schools and Scholars. Poet bvo, 
 
 cloth, is. bd 
 Skippers and Shellbacks. Crown 
 
 ftv«. cloth, ^i. t)d. 
 
 RUSKiN SERIES (The). Square 
 
 i6mo, cloth, col uii.d tops and decor- 
 ative End-papers, Frontispieces, aud 
 T th-s. it. net each. 
 
 The King of the Golden River. 
 By John El'skin. lllustia.td by 
 Richard Doyi.e. 
 
 Bab und hts Friends. Bv Dr. John 
 Bsoyvn. 
 
 Old Christmas. By Washington 
 
 lUVING. 
 
 Fairy Tales from Tuscany. By I. 
 
 M. Anderton. 
 Rusfcln as a Religious Teaober. 
 
 Bv K. W. Farkak, D.D. 
 
 RUSSLLL (W. CLARK), Novels 
 by. Crown 8vo, doth, ys, bd. each ; 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each ; 
 cloth. 2t. bd. each. 
 
 Round the Galley- Fire. 
 
 In the Middle Watch. 
 
 On the Fo'k'sie Head. 
 
 A Voyage to the Cape. 
 
 A Book for the Hammock: 
 
 The Mystery of the ' Ocean Star.' 
 
 The Romance of Jenny Harlowe. 
 
 The Tale of the Ten. 
 
 An Ocean Tragedy. 
 
 My Shipmate Louise. 
 
 Alone on a Wide Wide Sea, 
 
 The Good Ship ' Mohock.' 
 
 The Phantom Death. 
 
 Is He the Man? | Heart of Oak. 
 
 The Convict Ship. 
 
 The Last Entry.
 
 Ill ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, W.C. 
 
 25 
 
 RUSSELL (W. CLARK)— continued. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. orf. each. 
 A Tale of Two Tunnels. 
 The Death Shi 10. 
 
 The ' Pretty Polly.' With la Illustra- 
 tions hv G. E. Rorkntson. 
 Overdue. | Wrong Side Out. 
 
 The Convict Ship. Popular Edition 
 medium 8vo, bd. 
 
 RUSSELL (HERBERT). -True 
 
 Blue. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. bd. 
 
 RUSSELL (DORA), Novels by. 
 A Country Sweetheart, Crown 8vo, 
 
 picture cioth. fl.st back, zs. 
 The Drift of Fate. Crown 8vo, cloth, 
 
 3.?. bd. ; picture cloth, flat back, zs. 
 
 RUSSELL (Rev. JOHN) and his 
 
 Out-of-door Life. By E. VV. L. 
 
 Daviks. With Illustrations coloured by 
 hand. Royal 8vo, cloth, lbs. net. 
 
 RUSSIAN BASTILLE, THE 
 
 (The Fortress of Schluesselburg). By T. 
 P. YOCVATSHKV. Translated by A. S. 
 Rappoport, M.A. With numerous Illus- 
 trations. Demy 8vo, cloth, ys. bd. net. 
 
 SAINT AUBYN (ALAN), Novels 
 
 by. Crown 8vo, cioth, jj. M. each ; post 
 Svo. illustrated boards. zs. each. 
 
 A Fellow of Trinity. With a Note 
 by Olives Wendell Holmes. 
 
 The Junior Dean. 
 
 Orchard Damerel. 
 
 The Master of St. Benedict's. 
 
 In the Face of the World. 
 
 To Hi3 Own Master. 
 
 The Tremlett Diamonds. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. bd. each. 
 The Wooing of May. 
 Fortune's Gate. 
 A Tragic Honeymoon, 
 Gallantry Bower. 
 A Proctor's Wooing. 
 Bonnie Maggie Lauder. 
 Mrs. Dunbar's Secret. 
 Mary Unwln. With » Illustrations. 
 
 SAINT JOHN (BAYLE). — A 
 
 Levantine Family. Cr. 8vo. cl., 3s. bd. 
 
 SALA (Q. A.).— Gaslight and 
 
 Daylight. Post 8vo. illustrated hoards, 2.t. 
 
 SCOTLAND YARD, Past& Present 
 By Ex-Chief-Inspector Cavanagh. Post 
 8vo. Illustrated boards, 21. ; cloth, zs. bd. 
 
 SERGEANT(ADELINE), Novels 
 
 by. Crown Svo) clotS 3r. bd. each. 
 Under False Pretences. 
 Dr. Endtcott's Experiment. 
 
 The Missing Elizabeth. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth, bs. 
 
 ST. MARTIN'S LIBRARY (The). 
 
 In pocket size, cloth, gilt top, 2s. net per 
 Vol. ; leather, gilt edges, 3*. net per Vol. 
 
 By Sir Walter Besant. 
 London. | Westminster. 
 
 Jerusalem. (In collaboration with l'rof. 
 
 E. H. Palmer.) 
 All Sorts and Conditions of Men. 
 Sir Richard Whittiugton, 
 Gaspard de Collgny. 
 
 By Boccaccio. 
 The Dacameron. 
 
 By Robert BfCHAVAN. 
 
 The Shadow of the Sij-ord, 
 
 Ey Hall Caink. 
 The Deemster. 
 
 By Wilkie Collins. 
 The Woman in White. 
 By Daniel Defoe. 
 Robinson Crusoe. With 37 Illus- 
 trations by G. CRU1KSHANK. 
 
 By Charles Dickens. 
 Speeches. With Portrait. 
 
 By Austin Dokson. 
 Eighteenth Century Vignette3. 
 Three Series, each Illustrated. 
 
 By W. s. Gilbert. 
 Original Plays. Three Snics. 
 
 By Thomas Hardy. 
 Under the Greenwood Xreo. 
 
 By Bret Harie. 
 Condensed Novels. 
 
 By Oliver Wendell Holmes, 
 The Autocrat of the BroakfaEt- 
 Table. Illustrated by J. G. Thomson. 
 Compiled bv A. H. HYATT. 
 The rharm of London: Am Anthology. 
 The Charm of Edinburgh. 
 The Charm of Venice. 
 The Charm of Parle. 
 
 By Richard Jefferies, 
 The Life of the Fields. 
 The Open Air. 
 Nature near London. 
 
 By Charles Lamb. 
 The Essays of Elia. 
 
 JJv Lord Macaihay. 
 History of England, in 5 Volumes. 
 
 By Justin McCarthy. 
 The Reign of Queen Anne, in 1 Vol. 
 A History of the Four Georges 
 
 and of William IV., in a Vols. 
 A History of Our Own Times from 
 Accession of Q. Victoria to 1S97, in3Vols. 
 By George MacDonald. 
 Worksof Fancyand Imagination, 
 in 10 Vols. lomo. (For List, sec p. 19.) 
 By W. H. Mallock. 
 The New Republic. 
 
 r.v Charles readr. 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. With 
 
 ii Illustrations bv M. I'.. HKWERMNE. 
 'It iu Never Too Late to Mend.'
 
 26 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 ST. MARTIN'S LIBRARY— continued. 
 By Roiikrt Louts Stevenson. 
 An Inland Voyage. 
 Travels with a Donkey. 
 Memories and Portraits. 
 Virginlbus Puerisque. 
 Men and Sooks. 
 New Arabian Rights. 
 Across the Plains. 
 The Merry Men. 
 Prince Otto. 
 In the Sooth Seas. 
 Essays of Travel. 
 ■Weir ot Harmiston. 
 Collected Poems. 
 
 By H. A. TA'INE * 
 
 History of English Literature, in 
 4 Vols. With 32 Portraits. 
 
 By Mark twain.— Sketches. 
 By Walton and cotton. 
 The Complete Angler. 
 
 SEYMOUR (CYRIL), Novels by. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, bs. each. 
 The Magic of To-Morrow. 
 Cornet Cha.03. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE LIBRARY. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 THE OLD-SPELLING 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 In Forty Volumes, derny 8vo cloth, 
 2s. bd. net per voL ; or Library Edition, 
 pure rat; paper, half-parchment, 5s. net 
 per vol. In course of publication. 
 
 The Works of WilliamShake9peare 
 
 with the spelling of the Quarto or the 
 Folio as the basis of the Text, and all 
 changes marked in heavy type. Edited, 
 with brief Introductions and Notes, by F. 
 J. Furnivall, M.A., D.Litt., and F. W. 
 Clarke, M.A. A list of the volumes 
 already published may be had. 
 
 Part II. 
 THE SHAKESPEARE CLASSICS. 
 Small crown Sio, quarter-bound antique 
 g'ey boards, 2s. bd. net per vol. ; whole 
 gold-brown velvet persian, 4$. ncl 
 per vol. ; also 500 special sets on larger 
 paper, half parchment, gilt tops (to be 
 subscribed for only in sets), Jj. net. per 
 vol. Each volume with Frontispiece. 
 i. Lodge's 'Rosalynde': the 
 original of Shakespeare's 'As 
 You Like It." Edited by W. W. 
 Okeu, M.A 
 
 2. Greene's ' Pandosto,'or ' Doras- 
 
 tus and Fawnia ' : the original 
 of Shakespeare's ' Winter's 
 Tale.' Edited by P. G. Thomas. 
 
 3. Brooke's Poem of'Romeus and 
 Juliet': the original of Shake- 
 speare's 'Romeo and Juliet.' 
 Edited by P. A. Daniel. Modernised 
 and re-edited by J. ,. Munro. 
 
 4. 'The Troublesome Reign of 
 King John': the Play rewritten 
 by Shakespeare as 'King John.' 
 Edited by F. J. Furnivall, D.Litt. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE LIBRARY-fo»i. 
 
 The Shakespeare Classics — cntitinurd. 
 
 5,6. 'The History of Hamlet': 
 With other Documents illustrative of 
 the sources of Shakspeare'i Play, and an 
 Introductory Study of the Legend OP 
 Hamlet bv Prof. I. GOLLAKCZ, 
 
 7. ' The Play of King Lelr and His 
 Three Daughters ' : the old play 
 on the sunjeot of King Lear, 
 Edited by Sh>n»y Lee, D.Litt. 
 
 8. 'The Taming of a Shrew': 
 Being the old play used bv Shakespeare 
 in 'The Taming of the Shrew.' Edited 
 bv Professor F. S. Boas, M.A. 
 
 9. The Sources and Analogues of 
 ' A MidsummerNight's Dream.' 
 Edited by Frank Sidgwick. 
 
 10. 'The Famous Victories of 
 Henry Y.* 
 
 11. ' The Uensachmi': the original 
 of Shakespeare's 'Comedy of 
 Errors.' Latin text, with the Eliza- 
 bethan Translation. Edited by W. H. D. 
 Rouse. Litt.D. 
 
 12. 'Promos and Cassandra': 
 the source of ' Measure for 
 Measure.' 
 
 13. 'Apolonius and Silla': the 
 source of •Twelfth Night.' Edited by 
 Morton Luce. 
 
 14. 'The First Part of the Conten- 
 tion betwixt the two famous 
 Houses of York and Lancas- 
 ter,' and « The True Tragedy of 
 Richard, Duke of York': the 
 originals of the second and third parts of 
 •King Henry VI.' 
 
 75. The Sources of 'The Tempest.' 
 
 16. The Sources of 'Cymbeline.' 
 
 17. Thfl Sources and Analogues 
 of 'The Merchant of Yenice.' 
 Edited by Professor 1. Gollancz. 
 
 18. Romantic Tales : the sources of 
 • 1 he Two Gentlemen of Verona,' ' Merry 
 Wives,* 'Much Ado about Nothing,' 
 ' All's Well that Ends Well.' 
 
 19.20 Shakespeare's Plutarch: the 
 sources of ' Julius Caisar,' 'Antony and 
 Cleopatra,' • Coriolanus," and 'Timon.' 
 Edited by C. F. Tucker B rooke, M.A. 
 Part ill. 
 
 THE LAMB SHAKESPEARE 
 FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 With Illustrations . -.nd Music. Based on 
 Mary and Charles Lamb'sTales from 
 SHAKESPEARE, an attempt being made 
 by Professor I. Gollancz to insert within 
 the setting of prose those scenes and 
 passages from the Plays with which ihc 
 young reader should early become ac- 
 quainted. The Music arranged by T. 
 Maskell Hardy. Imperial i6mo, cloth, 
 is. bd. net per vol. ; leather. 2s. bd. net per 
 vol. ; Special School Edition, linen, id. 
 net per vol. 
 I. The Tempest. 
 
 II. As You Like It. 
 HI. A Midsummer Night's Dream* 
 
 IV. The Merchant of Yenice. 
 
 V. The Winter's Tale. 
 
 VI. Twelfth Night.
 
 Ill ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, W.C. 
 
 27 
 
 SHAKESPEARE LIBRARY— cont. 
 The Lamb shakkspsark— continued. 
 VII. CymbeUnc. 
 VIII. Romeo and Juliet. 
 IX. Macbeth. 
 X. Much iido About Nothing. 
 
 XI. A Lifa of Shakespeare for the 
 Young. [Prepari/ig- 
 
 XII. An Evening with Shake- 
 speare : 10 Dramatic Tableaux for 
 Young People, with Music by T. 
 Masl'ell HARDY, ami Illustrations. 
 Cloth; 2s. net ; leather, 3s. Od. net ; 
 linen, is. 6d. net. 
 
 Part IV. 
 SHAKESPEARE'S ENGLAND. 
 
 A series of volumes Illustrative of the life, 
 thought, and letters of England in the time 
 of Shakespeare. The fiiit volume* are — 
 
 Robert Laneham's Letter.deseribing 
 part of the Entertainment givea to 
 Queen Elizabeth at Keail worth Castle in 
 J 575. With Introduction by Dr. Furni- 
 VALL, and Illustrations. Demy 8vo, 
 cloth, sv. net. 
 
 The Bogues and Vagabonds of 
 Shak&apearo's Youth : reprints of 
 Awdcley's ' 1'ratcrnitye of Vacaboudes, 
 Harman's 'Caveat for Com monCursctors, 
 Parson Haban'sor Hybcrdyuc's ' Sermon 
 in Praise of Thieves and Thievery,' &c. 
 With many woodcuts. Edited, with In- 
 troduction, by Edward Viles and Dr. 
 FURN'IVALL. D»my 8v«, cl»th, 5s. net. 
 
 Shakespeare's Holinshcd : a reprint 
 of all the passages in Holinshed's 
 . 'Chronicle' of which use was made in 
 Shakespeare '3 Historical Plays, with 
 Notes. Edited by W. G. Boswell 
 STONE. Royal 8vo,' cloth, 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 The Book of Elizabethan Verse. 
 Edited) with Notes, bv William 
 STANLEY BRAITHWAITE. With Fronti*- 
 picca and Vignette. Small crown 8vo, 
 cloth, Ac. net : vellum fiilt. 125. 6i.net. 
 
 The Shakespeare Allusion Book. 
 licpiinU of ail references to Shakespeare 
 and hisWorks before the close of the 17th 
 century, collected by Dr. Inglkby,Miss 
 L. TOOLMIM Smith, Dr. Fcrnivall, aud 
 J. I. MUNKO. Two vols., roy. 8vo. 21*. net. 
 
 Harrison's Description of Eng- 
 land. Part IV. Uniform with Parts 
 I.-III. as issued by the New Shakspere 
 Society. Edited by Dr. Furnivall. 
 With additions by Mrs. C. C. Stopes. 
 ( 250 copies onlv.) 17*. 6d. net. 
 
 A Studyof Shakespeare. By A. C. 
 
 SwrKHURNK. Crown 8\o, c'.oth, Us. 
 The Age of Shakespeare, By A. C. 
 
 Swinuuu.nk, Crown 8vo, buckium, Us. 
 
 net, 
 Shakespeare's Sweetheart : a 
 
 JSomance. Bv Sarah H. sterling. 
 
 With u Coloured Illustrations by C. E. 
 
 PECK. Square 8vo. cloth. 6s. 
 
 SHERARD (R. H.).— Rogues. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, is. 6d. 
 
 SHERIDAN'S (RICHARD 
 
 BRINSLEY) Complete Works. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 35. 6d. 
 
 SHERWOOD (MARGARET).— 
 
 DAPHNE : a Pastoral. Willi Coloured 
 Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth, 31. 6<l 
 
 SHIEL (M. P.), Novels by. 
 The Purple Cloud. Cr.Bvo, cloth, is.6d. 
 Unto the Third Generation. Cr.Svo 
 
 cloth, i's. 
 
 SIGNBOARDS: Their History, in- 
 
 eluding Famous Taverns and Remarkable 
 Characters. By Jacob Lakwood and J. 
 C.Hotten. With 95 Illustrations. Crown 
 8vo, cloth. 3s. 6d. 
 
 SHARP (WILLIAM).— Children 
 of To morrow. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3J.0J. 
 
 SIMS (QEORQE R.), Books by. 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each ; clolh 
 limp, 2s. dd. each. 
 The Ring o' Bells. 
 TInkletop's Crime. | Zeph. 
 Dramas of Life. With 60 Illustrations, 
 My Two Wives. I Tales of To-day. 
 Memoirs of a Landlady. 
 Scenes from the Shoe?. 
 The Ten Commandments. 
 
 Crown 8vo, picture cover, is. each; cloth, 
 1 j. bd. each. 
 The Dagonet Reciter and Reader. 
 The Case of George Candlemas. 
 Dagonet Ditties. | Life Wo Live. 
 Young Mrs. Caudle. 
 Li Ting of London. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each ; post 8vo, 
 
 picture boards, 2s. each ; cloth, 2s. td. each. 
 
 Mary Jane's Memoirs. 
 
 Mary Jane Married. 
 
 Dagonet Abroad. 
 
 Rogues and Vagab onds. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth . 3s. Od. each. 
 
 For Life— and After. 
 
 Once upon a Christmas Time. 
 With 8 Illustration* by CHAS.GREJEN.lt. I. 
 
 In London's Heart. 
 
 A Blind Marriage. 
 
 Without the Limelight. 
 
 The Kmall-part Lady. 
 
 Biographs of Babylon. 
 
 Hi* Wife's Revenge. 
 
 Ti^e Myst ory of Mary anno. 
 Picture cloth, ilat back, 2s. each. 
 
 Rogues and Vagabonds. 
 
 In London' s Hea rt. 
 Popolah Edition's, medium 8vo, td. each. 
 
 Mary Jane's Memoirs. 
 
 Mary Jane Married. 
 
 Rogues and Vag abon ds. 
 
 How the Poor Live; and Horrible 
 London. Crown 8vo, leatherette, is. 
 
 Dagonet Drama s. Cr own 8vo, u. 
 
 Joyce Pleasantry. With a Frontis- 
 piece by Hl'UH TuyMSO.N. CiowuflVO, 
 Cloth, 6*.
 
 28 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 SHELLEY'S Complete WORKS 
 
 In Veriteand Pros*. Edited by R. 
 Herne SHEPHERD. Five Vols, crown 
 Svo, cloth, 3.5. <xl. each. 
 Poetical Works, in Three Vols. : 
 
 Vol. I. Margaret Nicholson ; Shelley's 
 Correspondence with Stockdale ; Wandering 
 Ji-w; Queen Mab ; Alastor ; Rosalind and 
 Helen ; Prometheus Unbound ; Adonais. 
 Vol. II. Laon and Cythna : The Cenci ; 
 ulian and Maddalo ; Swellloot the Tyrant ; 
 The Witch of Atlas ; Epipsychidion ; Hellas. 
 Vol. III. Posthumous Poems; The 
 Masque of Anarchy ; and other Pieces. 
 Prose Works, In Two Vols. : 
 
 Vol. I. Zastrozzi ; St Irvyne ; Dublin and 
 Marlow Pamphlets ; Refutation of Deism : 
 Letters to Leigh Hunt ; Minor Writings. 
 
 Vol. II. Essays; Letters from Abroad; 
 Translations and Fragments ; a Biography 
 
 l 
 
 SISTER DORA. By M. Lonsdale. 
 
 Demy Svo, 4/.'. : cto'.h. 64. 
 
 SLANG DICTIONARY (The): His- 
 
 torical and Anecdotal. Cr. Svo, c!.. 6c. 6,1. 
 
 SMEDLEY (CONSTANCE) . - 
 The June Princess. Crown Svo 
 cloth, 6s. 
 
 SOCl ETY IN LONDON. Crown 
 
 8vo. it. : cloth, if. fni. 
 
 SOMERSET~(Loru HENRY).- 
 
 Songs of Adieu. 4to, Jap. vellum, 6s. 
 
 S 1 \V E R B Y (M. and Q.), 
 
 Children's Books by. 
 
 Bumblotoes : their Adventures with 
 Belinda and the Buttonsboy, pictured 
 in 12 Coloured Scenes and 18 other 
 Illustrations by MrLLrCENT Sowerbt 
 With Verses by Githa Sowerby. Small 
 crown Hvo. decorated board*, is. 6,1. net. 
 
 Childhood: Twelve Day* from our Youth. 
 Pictured In Colours by MlLLKENT 
 .-ovvicitUT and written in Verse by Gjtua 
 SOWERBT. Crown 4to, cloth, Jf. 6,1. net 
 
 Yesterday's Children. With 12 
 Illustrations in Colour and many In \Xs» 
 by MlLLJON'T SOWERDY ; and Verses 
 by GlTHA SOWEKUY. Crown 4to, cloth, 
 3i. 61/. net. 
 
 SPEIGHT (T. W.), Novels by 
 
 Post Svo, illustrated boards, 2$. each. 
 The Mysteries of Heron Dyke; 
 By Devious Ways. 
 Hoodwinked; & Sandycroft Mys 
 tery. I The Golden Hoop. 
 
 Back to Life. | Quittance in Full 
 The Loudwater Tragedy. 
 Burgo's Romance. 
 A Husband lrom the Sea. 
 Crown 8vo cloth, is 6d. each 
 Her Ladyship. I The Grey Monk; 
 The Master of Trenanoe. 
 The Sccrot of Wyvern Towers 
 Doom of Siva. | As it was Written 
 The Web of Fate. 
 Experien ces of Mr. Ve raohoyle. 
 
 Rtoppinff Blindfold: Cr.8vo, cloth. 6s. 
 Wife or No Wlfe.Post 8vo, cloth, u. 6d 
 
 SPEIGHT (E. E.).— The Galleon 
 
 of Torbay. Crown Svo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 SPENSER for Children. HyM.H. 
 
 To wry. With Coloured Illustrations by 
 W. I. MORGAN. Crown 4t>>. cloth, 31. 6,1. 
 
 SPETTIGUE (H. H.). — The 
 
 Heritage ol Eve. Cr. 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 SPIELMANN (MRS. M. H.).— 
 MargeryRedford and her Friends. 
 
 With numerous Illustrations by GORDON 
 Browne. Large crown 8vo,c:olh, 51 net. 
 The Rainbow Book : Sixteen 
 Tales of Fun and Fancy. With 
 37 Illustrations bv Arthur Rackham, 
 Hugh Thomson, Bernard Partridge, 
 and other well-known artists. Large 
 crown 8to, cloth gilt. $s. net. _ 
 
 SPRIOGE (S. SQUIRE). — An 
 
 Industrious Chevalier. Crown 8vo, 
 3-s- 6d. 
 
 STAFFORD (JOHN), Novels by. 
 
 Doris and I. Crown 8vo, cloth, $s. (*/. 
 Carlton Priors. Crown 8vo. cloth. 6.5. 
 
 STANLEY (WINIFRED). — A 
 
 Flash of the Will. Cr. Svo. cloth. 6s. 
 
 STARRY HEAVENS Poetical 
 
 Birthda y Book. Pott 8va cloth. 2s. txt. 
 
 STEDMAN (E. C.).— Victorian 
 
 Poets. Crown Svo, clolh. qj. 
 
 STEPHENS (RICCARDO).— The 
 
 Cruciform Mark. Cr. 8vo. cl„ 3s. 6.1. 
 
 STEPHENS (R. NEILSON).— 
 
 Philip Wlnwood. Cr. 8to cl„ 3* 6,1. 
 
 STERLING (S. H.), Stories by. 
 
 Squaru 8v<>, cloth, 6s. each. 
 Ehakeapaare's Sweetheart. With 
 fi Coloured Illustrations by C. E. PECK. 
 
 A Lady of King Arthur's Court. 
 
 Wiih Illustrations in Colours by CLARA 
 Elsene Peck, and other D ecorations, 
 
 STERN D ALE (R^ A RM ITAG E»T 
 
 —The Afghan Knl.'e. Post 8vo,cloili, 
 3.C M. : illustrated boards. 2j. 
 
 STERNE (LAURENCE).— 
 
 A Sentimental Journey. With S<) 
 Iilusiralions by T. H. Robinson, and 
 a Photogravure Poi trait. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth gilt, 3.5. 6,L 
 
 STEVENSON (BURTON E.).— 
 
 Affairs ol State. Crown Svo, cloth, 
 3s . t«l. 
 
 STOCKTON (FRANK R.).-The 
 
 Young Master of Hyson Hall. With 
 36 Illustrations Crown Svo, cloth, 
 3.1-. 6d. ; picture cloth, f l at back. 21 . 
 
 STODDARD (C. W.), Books by. 
 
 Post Svo, cloth, gilt top, 6s. net each. 
 South-Sea Idyls: Summer Cruising, 
 The Island of Tranquil DoMghlh
 
 Ill ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, W.C. 
 
 29 
 
 5TEVENS0N (R. LOUIS), 
 
 Works by. Cr. Svo. buckram, 6s. eoch. 
 
 Travels with a Donkey. With a 
 Frontispiece by W-altkr Crane. 
 
 An Inland Voyage. With a Frontis- 
 piece by Walter Crane. 
 
 Familiar Studies of Men & Books. 
 
 The Silverado Squatters. 
 
 The Merry Men. 
 
 Underwoods: Poems. 
 
 Memories and Portraits. 
 
 Virginibus Puerisque. 
 
 Ballads. | Prince Otto, 
 
 Aci'ogs the Plains. 
 
 Weir of Hermiston. 
 
 In the South Seas. 
 
 Essays of Travel. 
 
 Tales and Fantasies. 
 
 Essays in the Art of Writing. 
 
 A Lowden Sabbath Morn. Illus- 
 trated by -A. S. Boyd. 
 
 Songs of Travel. Ci. Svo, buckram, 51. 
 
 New Arabian Nights, down 8vo, 
 
 buckiam, ts. ; post Svo, illust. boards, 2s.; 
 
 Popular Edition, mediu m 8v<», td. 
 
 Large crown Svo, cloth, 7*. td. net each ; 
 
 parchment, 10s. td. net each ; Large Paper 
 
 EDITION, pure rag paper, the Plates 
 
 mounted, vellum, 21s. net each. 
 
 An Inland Voyage. With 12 Illus- 
 trations in Colour, 11 in Black and White, 
 and other Decorations, bv NOKL Rookk. 
 Travels wtth a Z>onkey In tha- 
 Ccvennes. With 12 illustrations it 
 Colour, 12 in Black and White, and 
 other Decorations, by Noel Rooke. 
 
 A Child's Garden of Verses. With 
 12 Illustrations in Colour and numtrous 
 Black and White Drawings by Mil.1.1- 
 cent Sowerby. Large crown Svo, cloth, 
 51. ucl ; L-vrgb Paper Edition, parch- 
 ment, los. td. net. 
 
 Post 8vo, cloth backs, is. net each ; leather. 
 23. net each. 
 
 A Christmas Sermon. 
 
 Prayers Written at Yailima. 
 There is also a Miniature Edition oj 
 the Prayers in velvet calf yapp (24 by 
 3? in.), is. td. net. 
 
 The Suicide Club; and The Rajah's 
 Diamond. (From New Arabian 
 NlGH is.) With 8 Illustrations by W. J. 
 HEXNTCSSY. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3i. td. 
 
 The Stevenson Reader. Edited by 
 Lloyd Osbourne. Post 8vo, cloth, 
 is. td. ; buckram, gilt top. 31. 6d. 
 
 The Pocket R.L.S.: Favourite Pas- 
 sages. i6mo. cl., is. net ; leather, 35. net. 
 
 Large Type. Fike Paper Editions. 
 Pott 8vo, cloth, gilt top, 2s. net each ; 
 leather, cilt edges, 33. net each. 
 An Inland Voyage. 
 Travels 'with a Donkey. 
 Virglnlbus Puerisque. 
 Familiar Studies of Men & Books. 
 New Arabian Nights. 
 Memories and Portraits. 
 Aoross the Plains. 
 The Merry Men. | Prlnoa Otto. 
 la the South Seas. 
 
 STEVENSON (R. LOVlSy-covt/nued. 
 
 Assays of Travel. 
 
 Weir of Hermiston. 
 
 Collected Poems of R. D. S. 
 
 R. Lu Stevenson : A .study. ByH.B. 
 Baildon. With 2 Portraits. Crown 
 Svo, buckram, ts. 
 
 Recollections of R. It. Stevenson 
 In the Pacific. By Arthur John- 
 stone. With Portrait and Facsimile 
 Letter. Crown 8vo, buckram, 6j, net. 
 
 STRAUS (RALPH), Novels by. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, 6s. each. 
 The Man Apart. 
 The Little Qod'3 Drum. 
 
 STRUTT (JOStPH ) . — The 
 Sports amd Pastimes of the People 
 of England. With 140 Illustrations. 
 Crown Svo, cloth, 3$. 6d. 
 
 STUART (H. LONQAN.)— 
 
 Weeping Cross. Crowe Svo. cloth, 6s. 
 
 SULTAN (THE) AND HIS SUB- 
 JECTS, liy Kichard Davky. With 
 Portrait. Demy Svo, cloth, 71. 6d net. 
 
 SUNDOWNER, Stories by. 
 Told by the Taffrail. Cr. Svo, 3s. 6d. 
 The Tale of the Serpent. Crown 
 
 8vo. ckxli, Hat back. 2j. 
 
 SIJTRO (ALFRED). — The 
 
 FeoHsb Virylnsi Fcp. 8vo. is.;cl.,is.t>U. 
 
 SWIFT'S (Dean) Choice Works, 
 
 in Prose and Verse. With Memoir, Por- 
 trait, and Facsimiles. Cr. 8vo. cl., 3s. td. 
 Jonathan Swift : A Study. By J. 
 Churtun Collins. Cr. 8vo, cl., 3s. td. 
 
 S W INBTJRN W 5~~(A LG ERN >N 
 
 CHARLES) Works. 
 Mr. Swinburne's Collected Poems. 
 
 In 6 Viiis.. ctuttu Svo, 30*. net the set. 
 
 Mr. Swinburne's Collected Tra- 
 gedies. Ib sVol«_ cj-.Sto, 30s net the set. 
 
 Selections from Mr. Swinburne's 
 Works. With I'rclac: by T. WAITS- 
 Dunton, and 2 Photogravure Plates. 
 Fcap. 8vo, 61. 
 
 The Queen-Mother; and Rosa- 
 mond. Crown Svo, ys. &/. net. 
 Atalanta in Calydon. Crown Svo, 6s. 
 Chast elard : A Tragedy. Crown Svo, ys. 
 Poems and Ballads. First Series. 
 
 Crown Svo, ()s. 
 
 Poems and Ballads. Second Series. 
 
 Crown Svo. cu. 
 
 Poems and Ballads. Third Series. 
 
 Crown Svo. ys. 
 Songs before Sunrise. Crown Svo, 
 
 [a*, td. 
 Both well : A Tragedy. Crown 8vo, 12s. 6d, 
 Songs of Two Nations. Crown 8vo,6i 
 George Chapman. (In Vol. II. of G. 
 
 CHAPMAN s Wr.rks.) down 8vo, 31. 6d. 
 Essays and Studies. CrownSvo, 12*, 
 Erechtheus : A Tragedy. Crown Svo (a. 
 A Note on Charlotte Bronte. Crown 
 
 8vo, 61, 
 A Study of Shakespeare. Crows 
 
 8vo,K4.
 
 30 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 SWINI3UKNH (A. C.)— continued. 
 Songs of the Springtides. Crown 
 
 6s. 
 Studies in Song. Crown 8vo, 7^. 
 Mary Stuart : A .Tragedy. Crown Svo, 8s. 
 Tristram of Lyonesse. Crown 8vo,os. 
 A Century of Roundels. Cr.8vo, ts. 
 A iv; ldsummer Holiday. Cr. 8vo, 7*. 
 Marino Faliero: A Tragedy. Crown 
 Svo, Ixs. 
 
 A Study of Victor Hugo. Cr 8vo, 6s. 
 
 Miscellanies. Ciown Svo, 12s. 
 
 JUocrlne: A Tragedy. Crown Rvo, 6s. 
 
 A Study of Ben Jonson. Cr. Svo, 7s. 
 
 The Sisters : A Tragedy. Crown 8vo, Cs. 
 
 Astrophel, &c. Crown 8vo, 7*. 
 
 Studies in Prose and Poetry. 
 Crown Svo, Q.j. 
 
 The Tale of Balen. Crown Svo, 75. 
 
 Eosamund, Queen of the Lom- 
 bards: A Tragedy. Crown Svo, 6s. 
 
 A Channel Passage. Crown Svo, 7$. 
 
 Love's Cross -Currents: A Year's 
 Letters. Crown Svo, u.s. net. 
 
 William Blake. Crown 8vo, 6.5. net. 
 
 The Duke of G&ndia. Crown Svo, 51. 
 
 The Age of Shakespeare. Crown 
 Svo, bs. net. 
 
 SWENNERTON (FRANK A.).— 
 Tho Merry Heart. Cr. 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 SYRETT (NETTA), Novels by. 
 
 Anna Page. Crown Svo, cloth, 3s. 6d. 
 A Castle of Dreams, down Svo, 
 cloth, 6s. 
 
 TAINE'S History of English 
 
 Literature. Trans. byHENRY Van Laun. 
 Four Vols., demy 8vo, cl., 30s. — PoruLAR 
 Edition, Two Vols., crown Svo, cl., 15s. ; 
 Vtst Paper Edition - , in Four Vols., with 
 32 portraits, pott Svo, cloth.gllt top, 2x.net 
 per vol. ; leather, jjill edges, 3s. net per vol. 
 
 TALES FOR THE HOMES. 
 
 U\ Twenty -Six Wkll-knownAutiioks. 
 Edited by Rev. J. MaRCHAXT. Published 
 /or the benefit of the Har.vardo Me- 
 morial Fund. With 3 Portraits. Crown 
 Svo, cloth. 5*. net 
 
 TAYLOR 
 
 Uracius. 
 
 (TOM). — Historical 
 
 Crown Svo, is. each. 
 
 'Jeanne Darc." 
 
 ' Tvvi.vr Axic AND Crown.' 
 
 'Tiik Fool's Revenge.' 
 
 1 ARKWKnJIIT'S WIFE.' 
 
 ' Anne Boleyn.' 
 'Plot and Passion.' 
 
 THACKERAY : The Rose and 
 
 (be Rirt£. With Coloured trontispiecc, 
 44 Illustrations (12 in Two Tints) and 
 Decorative End-papirs by Gordon 
 Browne. Demy 8vo, cloth," 3s. 6d. net. 
 Thackeray (The Pocket;. Arranged 
 by A. H. Hyatt, iomo, cloth, gill 
 top. 2c. net ; leather, gilt top, 3$. net. 
 
 THOMAS (ANNIE), Novels by. 
 
 The Siren's Web. Cr. Svo, cl., $s. 6d. 
 Comrades True. Crown Svo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 THOMAS (BERTHA), Novels by. 
 
 In a Cathedral City. Cr.8vo,cl.,3i.o<i. 
 
 Crown Svo. cloth, 6s. each. 
 The House on the Gear. 
 The Ron of the House. 
 
 THOREAU : His Life and Aims. 
 
 By A. H. Page. With a Portrait. Post 
 8vo, buckram, 3s. 6d. 
 
 THORNBURY (WALTER).— 
 
 Tales for the Marines. Post Svo, 
 illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 TiMBS (JOHN), Works by. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth. 3.?. 6d. each. 
 
 Clubs and Club Life in London. 
 With <|i Illustrations. 
 
 English Eccentrics and Eccen- 
 tricities. With 48 Illustrations. 
 
 TREETON (ERNEST A.).— The 
 
 Instigator. Crown Svo, cloth, oj, 
 
 TROLLOPE (ANTHONY), Novels 
 
 by. Crown Svo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each; po^t 
 Svo. illusl rated boards, 2.v. each; 
 
 The Way Wa Live Now. 
 
 Fran Frohmann. | Marion Fay. 
 
 The Land-Leaguers. 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, zj. each. 
 Kept in the Dark. 
 The American Senator. 
 The Colden Lien of Granpere. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3*. 6d. each. 
 Mr; Scarborough's Family. 
 John Caidigatc. 
 
 TROLLOPE (FRANCES E.), 
 
 Novels by. Crown Svo, cloth, 3*. <>,/. 
 
 each; post Svo. illustrated boards, 2i. each. 
 Like Ships upon the Sea. 
 Mabel's Progress. | Anne Furness. 
 
 TROLLOPE (T. A.).— Diamond 
 
 Cut Diamond. Post 8vo, ilkis. bds., 2s. 
 
 TURENNE (RAYMOND).— The 
 
 La.st of the I&aojaio'.hs, Crown Svo, 
 cloth. 3s. bj. 
 
 TWAIN'S (MARK) Books. 
 
 UNIFORM LIBRARY EDITION. Crown 
 
 8vo, cloth, 3.1-. 6d. each. 
 Mark Twain's Library of Humour. 
 
 With 197 Illustrations by E. W. KEMfsLK. 
 Houghing It: and The Innocents 
 
 at Home. With 200 Illustrations by 
 
 F. A. y KAbER. 
 
 The American Claimant. With 81 
 Illustrations bv Hal HORST and others. 
 
 Pudd'nhead Wilson. With Portrait 
 and Si.v Illustrations bv LpUIS LOEB, 
 
 * The Advecturesof Tom Sawyer. 
 With in Illustration*.
 
 Ill ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, W.C 
 
 31 
 
 With 
 
 TWAIN (MARK)— cant/nurd. & 
 Tom Sawyer Abroad. 
 Illustrations by Dan Beard. 
 Tom Sawyer, Detective, With Port. 
 
 * A Tramp Abroad. With 314 illusts. 
 •The Innocents Abroad: or, New 
 
 Pilgrim's Progress. With 234 Illu-ts. 
 •The Gilded Ago. By Mark Twain 
 and l... D, Warner. With 212 Illusts. 
 
 * The Prince and the Pauper. 
 
 With 190 Illustrations. 
 
 * Life on the Mississippi. 3ooIlinsts. 
 •The Adventures of Huckleberry 
 
 Finn. 174 Illusts. by E. W. Kemp.i.k. 
 
 * A Yankee at the Court of King 
 
 Arthur. 220 Illusts. by Dan Bkjvkd 
 
 * The Stolen White Elephant. 
 •The £1.000,000 Bank-Note. 
 
 A Double -barrelled Detective 
 
 Story. With 7 Illustrations. 
 Personal Recollections of Joan of 
 
 Arc. With 12 Illusts. by F. V. Du Mono 
 More Tramps Abroad. 
 The US an that Corrupted Hadley. 
 
 burg. With Frontispiece. 
 The Choice Works of Mark Twain. 
 
 With Life, Portrait, and Illustrations. 
 •«* The Books marked • may be had also in 
 
 post Svo, cloth, 2?. each. 
 
 JTYTLER (C. C. ERASER-).— 
 
 Mistress Judith. Crown Svo, cloth, 
 3-t. bd. ; post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2.?. 
 
 UPWARD (ALLEN), Novels by. 
 
 The Queen against Owen. Crown 
 
 Svo, cloth, 3.?. bd. ; picture cloth, flat back, 
 
 2s. ; post 8vo, picture boards, 2s. 
 
 The Phantom Torpedo- Boats. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 6.*. 
 
 VANDAM (ALBERT D.).-A 
 
 Court Trajredy. With 6 Illustrations 
 by J. B. Davis. Crown Svo, cloth, 3s. bd. 
 
 VASHTI and ESTHER. By 
 
 ■ Belle ' of The World. Cr. Svo ii., jj. bd. 
 
 POPULAR Editions, medium Svo, fid. each. 
 Tom Sawyer. | A Tramp Abroad. 
 The Prince and the Pauper. 
 Huckleberry Finn. 
 
 Mark Twain's Sketches. Pott 8vo. 
 cloth, gilt top, 2*. net ; leather, gilt edges 
 3.5. net ; post 8vo, cloth, 2r. 
 
 TWELLS (JULIA H.).— Et tu," 
 
 Sejane ! Crown Svo. cloth, bs. 
 
 TYTLER (SARAH), Novel a by. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3.?. bd. each ; post Svo, 
 
 illustrated, boards, ?.n. each. 
 Buried Diamonds. 
 The Blackhall Ghosts. 
 What She Came Through. 
 
 Post 8>'o, illustrated hoards, ??. each. 
 Saint Mungo's City. I Lady Bell. 
 The Huguenot Family. 
 Disappeared. | Noblesse Oblige. 
 Beauty and the beast. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. bd, each. 
 Th« Tfflr.cnonald Lass. 
 The Witch-Wife. 
 Rachel Langton. I Sapphlra 
 Mrs. Carmichael's Goddesses. 
 A Honeymoons Eclipse. 
 A Young Dragon. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, C*. each. 
 Three Men of Eark; 
 In Clarissa's Day. 
 Sir David's Vi6itorB. 
 The Poet and Kis Guardian Angc 1 
 
 Citoyenno Jacqueline. Crown 8vo, 
 
 picture cloth, llat back, 2.«. 
 
 The Bride's Pass. Post Svo illus- 
 trated boards, u. 
 
 VENICE IN THE EIGHTEENTH 
 Century. By Philippe Moxniek. 
 Translated from the French, with a 
 Frontispiece. Demy 8vo, cl., 7.?. ftd. net. 
 
 VICENZA (The Painters of),— 
 
 By Tancred Borenius. With 15 Full- 
 page Plates. Demy 8vo, cloth, 7s, bd. 
 net. 
 
 VIZETELLY (ERNEST A.), 
 
 Books by. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. bd. each. 
 The Scorpion. 
 The Lover's Progress. 
 
 JR. Path of Thorns. Crown Svo, cloth, bs 
 The Wild Marquis: Life and Adven- 
 tures of Armand Guerry de Maubreuil. 
 Crown Svo, cloth, 6.5. 
 
 WALLACE (LEW.;.— Ben-Hwr: 
 
 A Tale of the Christ. Crown Svo, 
 cloth, 3.?. bd. 
 
 WALLER (S. E.).— Sebsstlani's 
 
 •Secret. With 9 Illusts. Cr. Svo, cl., 65. 
 
 WALTON and COTTON'S 
 
 Complete Angler. Pott 8vo, cloth, 
 gift, as. net ; leather, gilt edges, 3J. net.' 
 
 WALT~WHITMANr Poems by. 
 
 Edited, with Introduction, bv W. M. Ros- 
 SETTI. With Port. Cr. Svo, buckram, 6s. 
 
 WARDEN (FL0RENCE)7byi 
 •Joan, the Curate. Crown Svo, cloth, 
 Ss. bd.; picture cloth, flat back, 2s. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, bs. each. 
 The Heart of a Girl. With 8 Illusts. 
 Tom Dawson. 
 
 Tne Younges t M iss Brown. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 35. od. each. 
 A Fight to a Finish; 
 The Old House at the Corner; 
 t/ovs ant) Lordship. 
 What Ought She to Do? 
 My Lady of Whims. 
 
 WAR/HAN (CY).— The Express 
 
 Messenger. Crown Svo, clcftfc] 3,. h,i. 
 
 WASSERMANN (LILLJAS).— 
 
 The Daffodils. Crown Svo, cloth, is. bd.
 
 32 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PUBLISHERS. 
 
 WESTALL (WILL.), Novels by. 
 
 Trust-Money. Crown 8vo,clolh, 3.1. bd.; 
 post &vo, illu .trated boards, 2?. 
 
 Crown Svo. cloth, 6s, each. 
 Dr. Wynnes Revenge. 
 The Sacred Crescents. 
 A Very Queer Business. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, u. bd. each. 
 A Woman Tempted Him. 
 For Honour and Life. 
 Her Two Millions. 
 Two Pinches of SnuJT. 
 With the Red Eagle. 
 A Red Bridal. | Nigel Portescue. 
 Ben Clough. I Biroh Dene. 
 The Old Factory. 
 Bons of Belial. | Strange Crimes. 
 Her Ladyship's Secoet. 
 The Phantom City. 
 Ralph Norbreck's Trust. 
 A Queer Race. I Red Ryvington. 
 Roy of Roy's Court. 
 As Luck would have It. 
 As a Man Sours. 
 The Old Ban k. 
 
 With the Red Eagle; Popular 
 EDITION, medium Svo, 'mI. 
 
 WARRANT to Execute Charles L 
 
 A Facsimile, with the 59 Signatures and 
 SeHs. 2.5. 
 Warrant to Execute Mary Queen 
 of Scots. Including Queen Elizabeth's 
 Signature and the Gre.u Seal. 2s. 
 
 WEBBER (BYRON).— Sport and 
 
 Spangles. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 
 
 WERNER (A.). — Chapenjra's 
 
 White Man. Crown 8yo. cloth, u. bd. 
 
 WE ST BURY (ATHA). — The 
 
 Shadow of Hilton Fern brook down 
 8vn. cloth, r?. bd 
 
 WHEELWRIGHT (E. Q.).— A 
 
 Slow A wakenlnjj. Crown Svo cloth, 6.t. 
 
 WHISHAW (FRED.), Novels 
 
 by. Crown Svo, cloth, js. bd. each. 
 A Forbidden Name. 
 Many Waysjjf Love. With 8 Iilusts 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, bs. each. 
 Mazeppa. 
 
 Near tho Tsar, near Death. 
 A Splendid Impostor. 
 
 WILDE (LADY).— The Ancient 
 Legends, Charms, and Superstitions 
 of Ireland. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3.?. bd. 
 
 WILLIAM5 (W. MATTIEU).— 
 
 Th s Chemistry of Cookery. Crown 
 8v>. cloth. bs. 
 
 WILLIAMSON (Mrs. F. H.).— A 
 
 Child Widow. Post Svo, illust. bds., 2s. 
 
 WILLS (C. J.), Novels by. 
 An Easy-going Fellow. Crown 8vo, 
 
 cloth 3.5. bd. 
 His Dead Past. Crown Svo, cloth, bs. 
 
 WILSON (Dr. ANDREW), by. 
 Chapters on Evolution. With 259 
 Illustrations. Crown Svo, cloth, 7s. bd. 
 
 Leisure-Time Studies. With Illustra- 
 tions. Crown 8vo, cloth. 6s. 
 
 Common Accidents, and how to 
 Treat Them. Cr.8vo,u. j cloth, is.bd. 
 
 WINTER (JOHN - STRANG E) , 
 
 by. 
 Regimental Legends. Post 8vo, 
 
 illustrated boards, 2s. ; cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 Cavalry Life; and Regimental 
 
 Legends. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3.$. bd. ; 
 
 picture cloth, flat back, 2*. 
 
 WOOD (H. F.), Detective Stories 
 
 by. Post Svo illustrated boards a*, each. 
 Passenger from Scotland Yard. 
 The Englishman of the Rue Cain. 
 
 WOOLLEY(CELIA PARKER).- 
 
 Kachel Armstrong. Post 8vo, 2s. bd. 
 
 WRAGGE (CLEMENT L.).— 
 
 The Romance of the South Seas. 
 
 With 84 Illustrations. Crown Svo, cloth, 
 7.?. bd. net. 
 
 WRIGHT (THOMAS).-History 
 
 of Caricature and of the Grotesque 
 In Art, Literature, Sculpture and 
 Painting. Illustrated by K. W. 
 Fairholt. Crown Svo, cloth, 7*. bd. 
 
 ZANGWILL (LOUIS).— A Nine- 
 
 teen th Century Miracle. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth, 3*. bd. ; picture cloth, flat back, 2t. 
 
 ZOLA (EMILE), Novels by. 
 
 Uniform Edition. Translated or Edited, 
 
 with Introductions, by Ernest A. Vizh- 
 tei.lv. Crown Svo, cloth, 3*. bd. each. 
 
 His Masterpiece. | The Joy of Life. 
 
 Germinal. 
 
 The Honour of the Army. 
 
 Abbe Mouret's Transgression. 
 
 The Fortune of the Rougons. 
 
 The Conquest of Plassans. 
 
 The Dram-Shop. 
 
 The Fat and the Thin. 1 Money, 
 
 His Excellency. 
 
 Tho Downfall. 
 
 Lourdes. 
 
 Rome. 
 
 Paris. 
 
 The Dream. 
 Doctor Pascal. 
 Frultiulnesa. 
 Work. 
 Truth. 
 
 Popular Editions, medium 8vo, bd. each. 
 The Fortune of the Rougons. 
 Lourdes | Rome, The Downfall. 
 
 Paris. I Money. 
 The Joy of Life. 
 
 The Dram- 
 shop. 
 
 Unwin Brothers, Ltd., Printers, 27, Pilgrim Street, Ludgate Hill, London, E.C.
 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 364 771 6